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arenpath · 19 days

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Fate Yields For No One

Chapter Five

Well y’all, it’s been a month so you know what that means:):) Hope you enjoy the next installment in the series! I can’t wait to show y’all how this fic is going to develop even further!

Poly Lost Boys x Max’s Daughter Reader

Comment to be added to my Taglist for this fic or for all my Lost Boys fics!

FYFNO Masterlist

California, 1986

The boys were too stunned to speak.

Until Paul abruptly broke the silence with a resounding “what the fuck.”

You pulled away from Maria’s embrace when a familiar voice shattered your moment. You sighed, pushing your frustration down and turning to glare at the blond menace.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t alone.

The same feeling you’d had when you’d met Paul a couple weeks ago surged through you once more as you met eyes with each of his friends.

The bleach blond one looked disgusted, almost angry, with his eyes narrowed and his mouth fixed into a sneer.

The curly haired one bit his gloved thumb, his eyes skittered back and forth between you, Maria, and his friends. He bounced, shifting his weight back and forth from one foot to the other, practically vibrating.

The dark haired one was unreadable. Your eyes narrowed as you took in his expression. You searched for nervousness, anger, sadness, anything. But his face revealed nothing, it was almost intriguing.

Paul looked broken. His mouth slightly agape and his eyes resembling those of a kicked puppy. Despite his pitiful appearance, you couldn’t find it in yourself to feel any remorse.

You reminded yourself that you’d always been entitled to make your own damn choices.

The little utterances of “mine” that broke through their lips meant nothing to you. You had never belonged to anyone but yourself. And you had always been your own to give.

You crossed your arms and scowled, daring them to intrude any further on your time with Maria.

You felt a hand slide along your cheek, turning your head slowly until you were faced with your lover.

“Hey,” she soothed, staring into your eyes with a slightly nervous gaze. You softened immediately.

“It’s getting late, we’re already closed, and it seems like you need to talk this out,” she said gently.

You took her soft hands in your own. “No, please don’t go,” you pleaded, “it’s them who should leave.”

When she smiled, it didn’t reach her eyes.

“We’re working the night shift together tomorrow,” she reminded you, “figure this out ok? I’ll be here.”

She leaned in to kiss your cheek, “I’ll always be here for you ok?”

“Ok,” you whispered back as you stroked her face softly, causing a blush to rise on her cheeks.

Paul cleared his throat loudly and you shot him a glare that would have peeled paint.

Maria’s hand over yours calmed you down just a bit. She reassured you with a smile before she slipped out the front door.

With Maria gone, you were free to feel the depth of your frustration at the four men before you.

“What do you want?” You grit out through clenched teeth.

Paul threw up his hands, “what is wrong with you?”

Your face flushed red, half with embarrassment, and half with anger. You clenched your fists. Nothing was wrong with you. Something was clearly wrong with him because he couldn’t. take. a hint.

The dark haired vampire shot Paul a look that seemed to reign him in. Then he stepped forward to put himself between you and the three other men.

“I’m Dwayne,” he introduced himself gently, his face still devoid of any emotion.

“Ok,” you spat, “congratulations.”

His mask broke a bit, looking slightly taken aback by your hostility, but he quickly composed himself.

“We just want to talk,” he said, his hands up in a sort of surrender, “let us explain some things to you.”

Your eyes narrowed, and without Maria there to diffuse the situation, your arms crossed again.

“Explain things to me?” You felt rage bubbling up inside you, “what could you possibly have to explain to me?”

Dwayne, to his credit, maintained his calm, collected demeanor. The bleach blond however seemed to be seething behind him.

“It’s hard to know where to start…we’re your-”

“I know.” You cut him off.

“You know?”

“I know what you are, and I know what we are,” you flashed him your fangs.

The four boys couldn’t hide their shock. The bleach blond one pushed past Dwayne to stare you down. “You’re not a human,” he mused.

Dwayne placed a hand on his shoulder, “David…” he warned.

David rolled his shoulder to shove off Dwayne’s hand.

“Listen sweetheart,”

You scowled at the pointed nickname.

“You’re ours,” Paul cringed at David’s words.

“The sooner you get it through your thick head,” David tapped your forehead, causing you to bare your teeth, “the better.”

“Oh fuck,” Paul whispered.

You stared David down, your body shaking slightly in anger. “If you ever fucking touch me again I will rip your head from your shoulders and burn your decapitated body you arrogant asshole,” You hissed.

He hissed back, his fangs on full display.

“David please,” the curly hair vampire begged.

“Marko,” David turned to growl, “I won’t tolerate this kind of insubordination.”

You gripped the edge of the video store desk so hard you thought it might break off.

Dwayne yanked David back by his arm. With the way the bleach blond man glared at the him you thought they might come to blows.

“Do you think you’re helping right now?” Dwayne asked.

David rolled his eyes, “she’s disrespecting me, she’s disrespecting us.” he glared at you.

You scowled back, trying to seem unfazed by his egotistical display.

“Is that what she’s doing?” Dwayne asked, “or is she setting boundaries and making choices you don’t like?”

Your hostile face dissolved to shock. You weren’t expecting that kind of support.

“Love can’t be forced,” Dwayne continued, “you know that, I know you know that.”

David stared at Dwayne before sighing deeply.

You tensed when he moved towards you. “This isn’t over,” he hissed.

You scoffed, “yeah that’s what he said,” you hooked your thumb towards Paul, “I’ll tell you what I told him. It sure seems like it is.”

David’s eyes narrowed but he kept his mouth shut.

“C’mon boys,” he gestured for the men to follow him out of the store.

Dwayne didn’t even glance back as he left.

Marko shot you a longing look, but when you looked away, he sighed before following Dwayne out the door.

Paul lingered. He opened his mouth, only to close it, time after time.

“What do you want?” you scowled.

“We could make you happy,” he said in the softest voice you’d ever heard. “I could make you happy.”

You stared at him, his eyes full of hope and desire.

“If you really want me to be happy…”

He moved closer, hanging on every word you said. His fists clenched at his side, desperate to touch you but holding back.

“Then I need you to leave me alone.”

His face fell, any hope in his eyes had shattered and dissolved.

He turned away, dead heart breaking in his chest.

“Ok,” was all he could muster as he too disappeared from the store.

As soon as he’d slipped from sight, you rushed to the front door to flip the sign from open to closed.

Grateful for the solace that an empty store provided, you slunk to the back room to mull over the events of the night.

You slid down the door until you were seated, head in hands. Part of you wondered if it would be so bad to give in. The Dwayne guy seemed respectful and kind enough, and if you were honest with yourself, you weren’t unattracted to him either.

If you were really honest, you weren’t unattracted to any of them. Except that David asshole.

It wasn’t his face that bothered you, but his abismal attitude. He might as well have been Max Jr.

He didn’t own you. No one fucking did.

Then there was Maria.

Her beautiful face flashed through your mind. She was kind, she was brilliant, she was caring, and you could see yourself falling for her one day.

God you’d had your first kiss with Maria tonight and you were thinking about those possessive vamps?

How could you ever consider trading her in for these four strangers with nothing but some kind of empty ‘claim’ on you.

You sighed.

You couldn’t deny that you’d felt the pull. You blamed your stupid, uncontrollable vampire instincts.

But what was lust, passion, and desire when compared with connection, comfort, and love?

Maria was the one you wanted. You chose her, and you’d do what you had to to keep her.

Whatever it took.

FYFNO Taglist❤️:

@sad-ghost-of-garbage @6lostgirl6 @misslavenderlady @anna1306 @hypocriticaltypwriter @crustyboypix @kurt-nightcrawler @bitchyexpertprincess @arenpath @lostboys1987girl @vampirefilmlover @dwaynedelight @dwaynesluscioushair @ria-coolgirl @katerinaval @royaltysuite @mack-attack420 @arbesa-mind @fraudfrog @rynsfandomsfun @vxarak @f4iryfxies @chiefdirector @ghostedghostie @its-freaking-bats @solobagginses @warrior-616 @softchonk @walmart-cereal @bloodywickedvamp @mickkmaiden333 @people-are-strange-87 @smut-religiously777 @welcome-to-the-hole @simplyreading96 @blenna3967 @justaspeachy @mihawksdemoness @mad-is-sad @pookiesnatcher @jezabella8 @drascilla @ilikechocolatemilkh @charlotteellis @mommymilkerfanclub @lazygrungekid @buzzybee-26 @sarcastic-sourwolf @cocopuffs1450 @jamie-poopoo @kristel1990 @the-lonely-abyss @hxrror01

#the lost boys #poly lost boys x fem reader #tlb fic #lost boys fic

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arenpath · 24 days

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#the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #david tlb #the lost boys david #david the lost boys #x reader #my memes #memes

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arenpath · 1 month

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𝑯𝒆𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓, 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒆?

"Why do you cry? I've given you my heart what more could you want?"

"Freedom!"

This is the first [sorta] WIP for my The Lost Boys White Wedding AU! I'm posting this here rn because I can't for the life of me draw bg so here's this in case I decide to just leave it like this 😭 I'm hoping I can draw and write for the AU more so be in the lookout!

[Likes, reblogs, comments and feedback appreciated! 🦇🩷]

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #tlb #tlb 1987

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arenpath · 1 month

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they made him this attractive and for what? for him to die??

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arenpath · 2 months

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Coolness

Pairing: Marko x reader

Word count: 1.8K

Warnings: light angst, a little bit of smut, so minors do not interact, description of bruises.

A.N: This is the first time I write about this fandom, so comments are welcome, because I do not know what I think about this work. Gif is mine.

Summary: you are a pole dancer and your boyfriend meets you after a practice.

10.00 pm.

Through the big windows of the studio you could see bright lights of the night boardwalk. It was unbelievable how one place could give so many happy memories and return the motivation to be alive and do what you love, even after you had to give up everything, including your hometown. In the hope of finding freedom or finding someone who will put an end to your suffering, you arrived in Santa Carla, the Murder Capital of the World.

The most eye-catching thing was definitely the giant Ferris wheel, which was visible from almost anywhere in the city, and which was its calling card, luring tourists, the most careless and naive of whom became a snack for them. You associated the Ferris wheel with both cool hands of you lover, travelling over your knees, thighs and arms and couples in love, who were making out, thinking that no one could see them, which you and he laughed at without malice.

The windows were slightly opened in order not to let you all faint from the stuffiness and at the same time not to let you catch a cold from the autumn cool air. You could swear that if it weren't for your rapid breathing and the sound of your heart in your ears, you could hear the screams and laughter of children running from attraction to attraction and from time to time loading up on piping-hot hot dogs or cotton candy because how loud it sometimes was.

Collapsing on the mat next to your pole, you looked at your legs. Bruises, consequences of capillary damage due to too frequent contacts with the pole alternated with hickeys and bites from wild nights. Other dancers never missed the chance to tease you about them and some of them even asked you where you had found your lover boy to find themselves one too. All those comments always caused a smug grin on your face. Marko was definitely the best person you had ever met. Angelic face was combined with wild curls and punk, torn clothes. And loving and caring side was combined with explosive character, love for fights and various means of self-expression. One night two of you could spend drinking alcohol and terrorizing either surf-nazis or the calmest of the whole gang Dwayne and David. And the other night you could just cuddle on your nest until he went to sleep with the boys. On those days when you were particularly persistent, he stayed with you, but still reminding that he was used to sleeping upside down.

Upside down. Yeah. It was a good word to describe how your life changed after you had met him. You stopped feeling superfluous in this world, instead of feeling lonely and helpless, you began to feel loved. You got a boyfriend who genuinely loved you and three new friends who had become practically brothers. The desire to resume a hobby that had to be erased from life returned. Besides, despite the fact that you got up quite late because of night outings and was engaged in part-time work, it was quite dull during the day without your boys. Therefore, here you were, sitting on the mat exhausted after after practicing a series of movements. Once more you looked at the window and on shaky legs you walked up to it. Despite his rebellious nature, when it came to you, he was always punctual. So you expected to see him waiting for you. But only his motorbike was standing under the studio window. Grunting in confusion where he could had gone, you packed up and went to change clothes.

After leaving the studio the very last one, you expected to see your lover, but the street met you with silence, only the lone bike was standing near the exit. Without having time to look around, you were grabbed by a strong hand around your waist and something cold was applied to your neck. You gasped.

-Don’t be scared, baby. It is just your favourite boyfriend and your favourite coke, - he released you from his grasp to give you an opportunity to turn to face him.

Turning to him, you saw a grinning Marko, who was handing you a can of your favorite soda. You didn’t hide the fact that you do pole dancing also in order to keep yourself in feet, but sometimes, after especially hard classes, you couldn’t help but change a bottle of water for soda. It was a bad habit from your childhood to drink lemonade after a hard work. So, a couple of times you asked Marko to stop at the nearest store to buy some coke.

-God, Marko, you scared me to death, - you said on the exhale, pressing your hand to your heart, - I thought it was a creep who wanted to steal my money or something worse.

-Nah, the only thing I need from you is your lips on mine, babe.

-Gross, stop acting like Paul, - you hugged him, - actually, I missed you.

Marko giggled and hugged you back, putting one hand on your back and the other on the back of your head.

-It was just one day and...

-I know, I know. But I really missed you badly.

He placed a short kiss on top of your head. You loved how sweet he could be when he was around you.

-Well, then hop on, - he showed you his soft smile and got on his motorbike.

You took a step towards Marko when a cold wind blew sharply, ruffling your and his hair. You felt freezing autumn wind had passed through your pant legs over your skin, still burning from friction with the pole. It was an incredible feeling, comparable to the feeling of an ice cream on the tongue in a hot summer and a bottle of cold water after a long run with a dry throat. You moaned. A second later, you were overtaken by the realization that you were still standing in the middle of the street at night, and in front of you was your boyfriend patiently waiting for you. You opened your eyes wide. There was a blush on your cheeks. Eyes quickly ran over Marko's face and body to catch the slightest change in his face and posture to understand his emotion, to understand if he was ashamed of you. You knew that Marko was not the one who could condemn you for something so stupid and insignificant, he was basically a person who was up for anything that isn’t a hunger strike. You just needed to be 100% sure.

-What?..- you catched his eyes.

-Oh, nothing really, - he chuckled, - you just stopped for a moment with your eyes closed. I was scared that something had happend during the pole practice and you were hurt, in pain or just in a bad mood. But then that sound. Well, you know, now I’m sure that you really in a good mood.

He winked and smile.

-Don’t make fun of me,- you came to him and and leaned on his bike, - my thighs actually hurt, like they are burning.

-I would never, darling, - he covered your palm with his own.

-Let’s just meet with the boys, - you tried to sit on the motorbike, when Marko stopped you and got off the bike

-Wait a little bit, sugar. You said that your thighs are in pain, right?

-Um, yes. I can’t see where this is going, - he stood before you and you locked your eyes. You pursed your lips and his gaze shifted to them.

-Cold wind made you moan. And as far as you know I can do the same thing and even better, - he winked at you,- You know vampires, cold as hell.

He ran his cool hand over your cheek, so that you blissfully closed your eyes, and leaned to your ear to speak:

-Give me your permission and and you will feel like in heaven and even better, not sure that vampires will ever know what it's like to be in heaven, but still.

-But we are in the middle of street! What if someone sees us?

-We can go around the corner, into the darkness, where people won't see us from the windows, plus, I always can smell the approach of a person.

-And your motorbike? What if someone steals it?

-Then my condolences to the family, - he smirked and kissed your neck, - so, what is your answer?

-Yes.

-Say it louder!

-I said YE...- you wanted to scream when his lips covered yours.

-What’s wrong, darling? I thought you didn’t want us to be red handed, - giggling, he took your hand and led you into the darkness.

-No sooner did you come to your senses than you were pressed against the brick wall in the alley. After pecking you, Marko quickly lowered down. Hands went up to your hips and squeezed them before pulling your wide pants down.

-Be careful, please. Don't lower them too low, the last pants that aren't in the wash.

-If that happens, I will make it up for you. Now and later. Pinky promise. Spread your legs a little bit, - you did as he said.

He passed his hands on your inner thighs and you, as he said, felt like you ascended to heaven, so good his ice-cream-cold hands felt on irritated skin. Light pain and pleasure. So sweet. You grabbed his one hand, bent down and put his fingers into your mouth, sucking it slowly and looking straight into his eyes. but it didn't last long. Marko pulled out his fingers, gently pushed you in the chest, thereby giving a sign that you need to lean against the wall. You obeyed and didn't object. He continued to run his cold big hands on the inside of your thighs. To the arousing mixture of the cold of his hands and your burning legs, your warm saliva was added, which quickly began to play into the hands of Marco and the wind, creating an additional source of cold. To all this was soon added the kisses of his deathly cold lips. It was too much and you moaned loudly. Your boyfriend wanted to feel your arousal with his fingers. But you heard a sound. People. Damn.

-Fuck, darling, you know, I always can take care of them. Just one word and they are dead and we can continue our little party.

-No, Marko, - feeling your legs shaking, you bent down to pick up your pants, - You said that if anything, you're ready to make amends later. So, later.

-But baby, we...

-No buts, no one prevents us from retiring in the toilet of one of the cafes on the boardwalk.

-I love this change from a shy rabbit to a cheeky cat, is that how I affect you?

-Definitely,- you smiled, despite the fact that you felt excitement at the bottom, the smile was warm, as you realized that he was really changing your life for the better.

#the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #tlb x reader

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arenpath · 2 months

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Hey bestie

If the slot is still open can I have any form of Dwayne fluff. I’m back on my bullshit again and that bullshit is just the lost boys once more 🧡

Each Night Before You Go To Bed

(I really don’t do song based fics, this song just gives the vibes of what I’ve written, enjoy)

Of course I can write you some Dwayne Fluff! Hope you love this!

Dwayne x GN Reader

Warnings: some mentions of future child raising (but intentionally “raising” instead of “having” so reader could be whatever sex)

Dwayne’s arm hung around your shoulder, his finger laced loosely with yours. His thumb rubbed gently over your skin, a gesture so natural he barely realized he was even doing it anymore.

You spent every night together nowadays. Neither of you could stand being apart for very long. Dawn was agony, but you were thankful for every dusk that came with the promise of your lover gracing your doorstep. You’d never understood the “madly in love” cliche before Dwayne, but you got it now. Truly, madly, deeply.

As you walked along the boardwalk, intertwined, a thrift store caught your eye. You nudged your shoulder gently, prompting Dwayne to gaze down at you, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Can we go in there?” You pointed with your free hand and Dwayne followed the path of your finger before nodding. “Sure baby.”

You smiled softly, tugging him along with you as you entered the store.

You’d been meaning to check out Artifact for ages on Marko’s recommendation, he’d always had great luck with the pieces here.

You squeezed Dwayne’s hand gently as you disentangled from his embrace, leaving him to browse as you flipped through the racks.

A couple minutes later, when you’d found some things to try out, you glanced around to check on your boyfriend.

Your eyes scanned the store, and once they settled on Dwayne, your face twisted in confusion. He was starring intently at something, you couldn’t quite see, on the shelves.

Curious, you crept around quietly to catch a glance of what he was so fixated on. When you peeked over his shoulder, your heart melted.

Dwayne had been starring at a pair of baby tennis shoes. He didn’t even notice you come to his side he was so lost in thought as he stared.

“Whatcha thinking about?” You asked, resting your head on his shoulder and whispering in his ear.

He tensed for a second, then blushed. Actually blushed. You’d never seen him do that before.

“Nothing baby, just uh…got a little distracted,” he smiled sheepishly before taking the clothes from your hands. “Did you want to try these on?” He’d brushed off the subject but you weren’t quite ready to move on.

You gave him a knowing look before reaching around to pick up the shoes. “Let’s get these too,” you suggested.

His eyes widened as his cheeks flushed again, “what would we do with them?”

You grinned, “I don’t know, I just thought we might need ‘em someday.”

The corners of Dwayne’s lips turned up into a bright smile, causing you to smile as well. How had you never noticed he had dimples before? For a tall, dark and handsome creature of the night, he was adorable. You stood on your tiptoes to kiss his nose, causing his cheeks to flush for the third time that night.

He grabbed the shoes almost reverently, smiling to himself and wrapping his arm around you.

“C‘ mon baby, I wanna see how these look on you,” he gestured to the pieces you’d picked, still held in his other hand, as he led you towards the fitting rooms.

After leaving the thrift store the two of you wandered to your favorite spot on the beach.

It was completely deserted, save the two of you. Just the way you liked it.

You leaned against his bare chest, his right arm snaked around your waist in a comforting embrace.

When he’d told you he was a vampire, back before you’d started dating, you’d thought he’d be freezing. No blood circulation and all that.

But every time he held you, you never felt more warm. You leaned your head back to rest on his shoulder, looking up at him fondly.

He smiled softly, leaning down to press his soft lips to yours.

“I love you you know?” he whispered.

You smiled brightly, “don’t get all soft on me because I’m gonna raise a kid with you one day.”

He frowned slightly, his brow furrowing as he shook his head.

“I don’t love you because of that,” he started, “I’d love you no matter what you wanted.”

He moved his head to rest against yours, “I don’t love what you can do for me baby, I love you.” He sighed, his eyes closing blissfully, “I love you more than anything.”

Your eyes watered and you turned your head to kiss his cheek. “I love you just as much,” you assured him. “I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“I wish I couldn’t,” he mused, his brow furrowing “had to wait a long time for you to come around.” He nudged you, “good thing you were worth it.”

You giggled, “no more lonely nights for either of us hmm?”

He nuzzles your nose with his, “never again,” he kissed your cheek, “what a privilege it is to be yours.”

You could feel your entire face flush bright red. “What’s with you tonight Mr. Romantic?” you teased.

He laughed softly, your favorite sound. “Just happy,” he told you.

You moved to loop your arms around him, “me too.”

Dawn was quick approaching as Dwayne dropped you off at your apartment. Your least favorite part of the night.

When the two of you reached the front door, his hands slid to your waist. He pulled your hips in gently as your hands snaked around his shoulders.

He leaned down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. You mewed into his mouth, one of your hands moving to tangle in his gorgeous hair.

You felt him smile against your lips as you stroked his hair. His hand moved up from your hip to your back, pulling you impossibly closer as his tongue slid into your mouth.

After awhile, you pulled away reluctantly. You wished you could keep going, but you’d hate to find yourself making out with a pile of ash.

You reached up to caress his cheek softly. He turned his head, his eyes closing as he kissed your hand.

“See you as soon as the sun goes down?” he asked.

You pressed one last chaste kiss to his lips, “and not a moment later.”

Taglist❤️ (comment to be added):

@6lostgirl6 @misslavenderlady @gothamslostboy @crustyboypix @ghoulgeousimmaculate @sad-ghost-of-garbage @anna1306 @chiefdirector @dwaynedelight @dwaynesluscioushair @its-freaking-bats @kurt-nightcrawler @ria-coolgirl @solobagginses @vampirefilmlover @vxarak @arenpath @bitchyexpertprincess @lostboys1987girl @arbesa-mind @softchonk @f4iryfxies @walmart-cereal @rynsfandomsfun @katerinaval @fraudfrog @memphiscity69

#the lost boys #the lost boys fic #tlb 1987 #the lost boys 1987 #dwayne x reader

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arenpath · 2 months

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Officially 21 y.o 🥳

#birthday #happy birthday

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arenpath · 2 months

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Yandere Paul wasn't something I expected but definitely a thing I needed

Glad you're back though ❤

hey bestie for requests i was thinking something with toxic/stalker/possessive paul with a reader he falls for love at first sight/pining for reader since he first saw them, whether that’s him getting jealous of someone at the boardwalk flirting with HIS partner (whether reader knows it or not yet) or reader hanging with friends and paul hates sharing the reader with anyone other than him or something like that. just super possessive paul sounds *chef’s kiss*. feel free to disregard if you don’t want to do this!

Every Breath You Take

Of course of course! Thought this would be a fitting first story for my return to writing:):) hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: stalker/yandere Paul, general yandere behavior, kidnapping, making out, light touching lol

Paul x fem! Reader

“He’s staring at you again,” the semi concerned words of your boyfriend came with a sharp elbow to the side. You catch the eyes of the same wild-haired blond man who seemed to pop up wherever you were.

Like always, your shared gaze didn’t last long as his blue eyes quickly flitted away. Yours narrowed, curious as to how he always seemed to know where you’d be.

“I’m sick of this asshole,” your boyfriend decides, rolling up his sleeves, “him and I are gonna have a conversation.” As he moved forward to walk towards the blond man you placed your hand on his chest, blocking him.

“Let’s not resort to violence,” you firmly suggested, “he’s not doing anything really he’s just…” you sucked in a breath, watching as the man pulled out a joint, not so subtly avoiding your eyes from afar, “watching.”

Your boyfriend scoffed, “you placate the weird kid you end up at the bottom of a lake.” Your nose scrunched in disgust. “What you didn’t see that Netflix doc babe?” He continued, “you never heard of Dahmer?”

You rolled your eyes, rolling your shoulder so his arm slid off, “you’re such a prick sometimes,” you mumbled.

Your boyfriend glared, “whatever, if I’m such a prick, why don’t you go be with that dude.” He gestured at the blue eyed man, who seemed to be trying (and failing) to pretend he wasn’t listening to your conversation.

“In fact,” your boyfriend pulled his keys from his pocket, “maybe he can give you a ride home.”

“What the fuck? You’re really gonna be like this right now?” you shook your head at your boyfriend’s hysterics, “real nice babe.”

He shrugged, saluting you mockingly before turning and walking away, leaving you stranded on the boardwalk.

Your head fell into your hands, what an asshole.

You looked in the direction of that blond guy, maybe he could give you a ride home. All things considered, he did seem harmless…and he was even sorta handsome. But unfortunately for you, he was also gone.

“Shit,” you muttered, pulling out your phone and clicking open the Uber app. You sighed. ‘This time I’m done with him,’ you thought to yourself, ‘no going back.’

“You sure?” A voice as smooth as silk purred over your shoulder, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin.

As you turned, your wide eyes bore into stunning blue ones. Your jaw went slack. You couldn’t deny that deep down you’d always thought he was an attractive guy…but up close? He might as well have been Adonis.

Maybe he liked seeing you squirm because the corner of his mouth pulled up into a smirk. “You done with him baby? Want a real man? Hmm?” His honeyed voice lulled you into a trance. You gasped like a fish as you stared at his perfect face. You let him slip an arm around your shoulder.

But then your brow furrowed, your shoulder tensing under his grip. “But…I never said I was done with him… not out loud,” you mused, shooting him a confused look.

He huffed a quick laugh. “You musta been thinkin out loud sugar,” he winked, “was half way to my bike when I heard you say that, thought I’d come back and getcha, give ya a ride maybe?”

That sounded nice. Much nicer than walking home. And hey, this guy seemed fine, the only thing he’d ever done to you was hang around while you were at the boardwalk, and damn, it was a public place anyway.

You shrugged and let him lead you towards his motorcycle as his arm slipped from your shoulder to your waist.

As you settled into the seat in front of him, he smiled brightly. “Lucky I was here huh sugar? The breakers is a good five miles from here.”

As one of his hands slid around a handlebar and the other wrapped itself around your hip, you froze. “How do you know which apartment complex I live in?” You whispered, fear coursing through you.

You felt Paul’s grip on your hip tighten as his body tensed behind you. Then he relaxed, fingers drawing light circles on your hip bone. “Fuck babydoll, knew I’d mess this up.” You felt him lean in closer, his head resting on your shoulder.

You willed your body to run, scream, do anything, but you were petrified, held captive by your fear and this man’s firm, veiny hands.

“This might hurt,” he whispered into your ear before his teeth sunk into your neck.

You were awoken by the feeling of a hand running through your hair. You smiled softly, leaning into the touch as your eyes slowly opened.

The scene you’d expected to wake to, of your boyfriend lovingly stroking your locks, vanished as you were met with the same bright blue eyes of the man from the boardwalk.

“Oh good you’re awake,” he smiled his terribly beautiful smile, the sight of it now making you sick.

You tensed and tried to pull away before realizing the blond man had your left wrist handcuffed to the bed.

“Just a precaution for now,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss your forehead, “when you can show me you can be a good girl for me, I’ll take it off.” He promised, almost gently.

You whimpered as you began to feel tears threatening to spill.

Paul softened, “no baby don’t cry,” he managed to gather you up in his arms, your cuffed hand hanging awkwardly from the bed as he cradled you.

“I’ll take such good care of you,” he promised, “I’ll spoil you, hold you, love you, whatever you want.” He buried his face into the nape of your neck and inhaled deeply. “I wanted to do this right, honest!” He told you, “but you’re so damn smart babydoll, you figured it all out so I just had to take ya.”

You sucked in a breath, fighting to hold back your tears as the blond man rambled desperately.

“It’s Paul by the way,” he tells you, “but you can call me anything you want sugar, whatever makes you happy,” I seductive smirk played on his lips, “I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to call me daddy.”

You cringed.

“Not there yet? Ok baby” Paul’s grip on you tightened, you could feel his freezing skin pressed against every part of you.

Your heart rate raced at his touch and he sighed. “I promise I’m not gonna hurt you babydoll,” he whispered, nuzzling his face into the nape of your neck once more. “I’ll be so sweet to you.”

“You bit me,” your quiet voice whimpered, “that hurt.” You reminded him.

Paul sighed, “I know sugar, I won’t ever bite you again…unless you want me to of course,” he promised, purring the last part into your ear.

You squeaked.

His hand moved to caress your cheek as he titled your gaze up to his. “I’ll be so good to you baby I promise. I’ll treat you like a princess.” His thumb rubbed against your cheek as his eyes softened with a boyish sweetness and adoration. “You’re so cute, and soft, and human.” He spoke almost absentmindedly, smiling as he touched you.“I’ll give you anything you want sugar, anything.” He whispered, his voice laced with desperation.

“You always looked so tired when you came home from work,” Paul continued, stroking your hair while he spoke. “Used to get so worried about bills…about everything. I can take care of you baby don’t you see? You’ll never have to worry about anything here, all you gotta worry ‘bout is lookin pretty f’me.” He kissed your cheek.

“Fuck, that shouldn’t be too hard for ya huh baby? You’re always so damn pretty for me,” his eyes clouded with hunger as he looked at you. “I’m gonna be so good to you babydoll” he repeated, his voice dripped with honey as he nipped at your neck.

You gasped at the sensation of him licking and sucking on your sensitive skin. The same sensation that had terrified you moments ago, now had you squirming with pleasure in Paul’s lap.

While you sunk into the feeling of his mouth on your skin, his hand found it’s way to the hem of your shirt. It snaked under to rub gentle circles on your stomach, sneaking higher with every caress.

You mewled in delight. Paul’s touch blew your boyfriend’s out of the water. To him, pleasure had been a game, to Paul, pleasure was an art.

You snapped back to reality when you felt Paul hardening against you in his lap.

Your eyes flew open as you remembered where you were, as you remembered the cuff around your wrist. This wasn’t right.

“W-wait,” you managed to whimper out, pushing his chest back as you did. “This is all a little much right now,” you said hesitantly, bracing yourself for Paul’s reaction.

His gaze softened, “course sugar, don’t wanna push ya.” He planted a chaste kiss on your lips before detangling himself from the bed and kneeling in front of you. “Do you want something to eat baby?” He asked, his pretty blue eyes full of adoration.

You nodded, blushing under his loving gaze.

“What do ya want sugar? I can get you anything,” He offered.

Your brow furrowed as you struggled to decide what you wanted.

Paul stopped you, “I’m sorry baby, don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” He leaned forward to kiss your forehead. “I’ll pick for you, just relax ok? I can make all your choices for you sweetheart.”

With that, he flashed you a boyish grin and took off to get you something to eat.

Once he was gone, you leaned back against the bed frame and sighed. Your free hand moved to your neck, feeling around where Paul had bit and kissed you. Electricity coursed through you at the memory.

You looked around the little cave Paul had you in. The walls were plastered with posters of heavy metal bands and all around the room there were crates filled to the brim with records. A collection that must have taken decades to amass, you realized.

The room actually looked decently clean, you had thought. Until you’d looked a little harder and noticed clothes and leftover pizza boxes poking out from underneath the bed. You smiled to yourself, he’d tried.

The more you thought about it, the more you realized it might not be so bad to have such a devilishly handsome man so hopelessly devoted to you. Your job was exhausting, and you were always stressed. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let someone take care of you, God knows your boyfriend…your ex boyfriend, never had.

And Paul had been so sweet, so gentle, so loving with you. You hated to admit it, but you’d loved the way he touched you. And you found yourself wondering how long it would be till he’d touch you again.

You bit your lip at the thought. How could something wrong, feel so right?

‘Maybe this isn’t so bad,’ you thought to yourself as Paul walked through the entrance to his room with an armful of Chinese takeout boxes.

So when he flashed you his signature bright smile, you allowed yourself to smile back.

Taglist❤️ (comment to be added):

@6lostgirl6 @misslavenderlady @ghoulgeousimmaculate @crustyboypix @anna1306 @bloodywickedvamp @chiefdirector @dwaynedelight @dwaynesluscioushair @sad-ghost-of-garbage @its-freaking-bats @kurt-nightcrawler @ria-coolgirl @solobagginses @vampirefilmlover @vxarak @lostboys1987girl @arenpath @mickkmaiden333 @bitchyexpertprincess @arbesa-mind @warrior-616 @f4iryfxies @rynsfandomsfun @katerinaval @consuming-karma

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #tlb #paul the lost boys

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arenpath · 2 months

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Two's Company - What The Hell Is Six? Part 3

Poly!Lost Boys x GN Reader x Michael

Series Masterlist

Summary: It's date night

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: swearing, touching, angst, arguments, flirting, lil kiss

I really cannot believe it took me so long to finish part 3 like...where did the time go?? It was almost an entire year...I just struggled to find the motivation but I finally did! Not sure if this is even good it's so late when I finished writing lol, hope you enjoy!

Dividers: @saradika & @firefly-graphics

“Okay…I’ll do it.”

“What?” Michael turns towards me and asks bewildered. I can’t blame him, I’m a little shocked by my own acquiescence.

I tear my gaze from David to Michael and briefly at our fingers laced together before meeting his eyes.

“I know this isn’t ideal Mikey, but you heard them, they won’t stop. We can talk about this more later, okay? Just trust me.” Squeezing his hand so tight, to help him to understand why I’m doing this. Why I didn’t have a choice other than to accept their ‘offer’. To protect him from whatever they’re truly capable of. If I said no, they’d take it out on Michael, I know they would.

He takes a moment to respond. Taking me in from top to bottom and squeezing back a non-verbal response before speaking. With more understanding than I initially thought he’d be capable of granting, he nods, brings our hands up to his lips to ghost them over my knuckles and finally lets out a soft 'okay' with a gentle smile only meant for me. I mirror the sweetness in his face back, until the moment is interrupted.

“Well that’s just adorable.” David snorted, all too eager to have our attention not on each other.

“But if you’re finished I’d like to get back to the date you just agreed to.” He directed impatiently.

“Fine, but there are some ground rules we need to establish first.” I said.

“Oh?” questioned David. He seemed amused by my answer, curiosity slipping through at what I could possibly come up with.

“First, no kissing or inappropriate touching-”

Paul cut me off to complain, “damn babe, those are all my go-to moves.”

Dwayne swiftly takes it upon himself to reprimand the wild blonde with an elbow to the side and a ‘shut up Paul’. While said blonde untangles his arm from the taller man's shoulders to soothe his aching side with a look of exasperation, like he’d been completely put out by the interaction.

“Ow, I was only kinda kidding. You can’t hit me like that man, you know I'm sensitive.” He croaked out in a very childlike manner accompanied by a pouty bottom lip. I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually got into the fetal position next with how dramatic of a person he seemed to be. In a different circumstance I would’ve found the exchange funny and how close the two are adorable.

Instead of dwelling, I decided to continue. “Second, we won’t be going anywhere private, we’ll be in public the whole time. Third, no threatening or hurting Michael for any reason. No matter what happens on our ‘date’ you don’t get to do anything to him.” Emphasizing date with a quick eye roll. I may have agreed to this but I don’t have to be happy about it.

Michael let out a small chuckle from my right before he leaned down to whisper in my ear “My hero.” I try my best to hold back the smile threatening to sneak its way past my serious demeanor but it’s useless and I crack. I can never seem to hold myself back when it comes to Michael, he pulls every part of me to the forefront, good or bad, he always embraces it with open arms and a warm smile.

“Is that all or do you have any more demands princex?” Marko piped in, once again directing our attention towards the boys in front of us.

“That’s all for now, but if I think of any more I’ll be sure to let you know promptly.” I finish with faux nicety and the sweetest smile I can muster.

Pulling a sarcastic laugh from him followed by an even more sarcastic “Can’t wait.”

It seems Marko and I will be having the most lively time together on our date, if we don’t kill each other first.

This time, I hear a genuine laugh come from the same curly headed boy. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

I’m baffled at the comment. His joyous response sounded like it was directed at my previous thought, one I definitely thought to myself and didn’t voice aloud.

“Wait, I didn’t say anything. How-”

Paul decides to answer me first. “We've got all kinds of tricks we can show you baby”, with an additional cheeky grin thrown my way.

While David finishes with a “but we’ll save that for next time. We’ll meet back here tomorrow night where we usually park the bikes, right after sunset. Don’t be late.” He looks between Michael and I as the quartet begin to make their leave. Each boy giving their own version of a goodbye with waves and ‘catch ya laters’ till they’ve vanished from underneath the boardwalk back towards the stairs.

“So…we should probably get home and maybe figure out what the hell you just agreed to.” Michael announces after a bout of silence following the departure.

After Michael drives us back home, he seems to be in a better mood than I expected. He’s acting like his old self again, not letting go of my hand or some part of my body since we arrived. The truth coming out makes him much more at ease, which I can appreciate. The rest of the family noticed his sudden presence at the dinner table with stunned expressions, Sam even commenting ‘what were you dying for moms lasagna or something bud?’ as Lucy shoo’s that off with a wave of her hand and says she’s happy to see everyone together again for dinner with a beaming smile along her face, quickly changing the topic to grandpa’s aversion to giving him an overdue haircut.

Later on, Michael and I found ourselves in the bedroom we share. After a lengthy discussion of the night to come and having to only calm him down a couple of times from leaving to find the boys again and telling them to fuck off, we agree on sticking it out just for tomorrow. After the dates I tell them it won’t work and we can put this mess behind us, hopefully. The matter of Michael being a bloodthirsty creature of the night has yet to be discussed.

“I still don’t like this plan, just so we’re clear.” He proceeds to tell me one final time as we start to lay down to sleep with a few hours of darkness left cloaking the sky before dawn breaks.

“We don’t have any other options…unless one of your new special tricks includes time travel to before you met them.” I jokingly tack on as I cuddle further into his side.

He releases a light chuckle while rubbing my back soothingly. “Sadly no, that’s not in my abilities.”

“It’ll be okay.” I say, not certain if it’s more for his sake or my own. He silently agrees with a kiss to my forehead and a soft goodnight as we both fall asleep in the comfort of this small window of time we have together.

Michael and I silently wake up just hours before we would need to leave, having mostly slept the day away together. As dusk quickly approaches, getting ready seemed an easier task than I initially anticipated. He showers after me and dresses in his usual attire of blue jeans, t-shirt, sneakers, and his newly acquired leather jacket that I can’t help but start to like the more I see him in it. While I put on a nice tank top, black jean shorts, and sneakers, dressing fairly casual but also something I would wear on a date with Michael. My outfit showed a bit more skin due to the heat.

He gives me a once over before asking ‘Is that new?’ as he points to my top. I nod with a look of ‘yeah why?’ and he only shakes his head back before answering, “nothing, you just look nice…and not to sound like a jealous boyfriend but…I can’t say i’m happy seeing you wear something new for them.”

“Hey I can chan-”

“No.” He stops me before I begin. “Like I said you look good and I’ll just have to get over the fact that they’re getting to be with you tonight and not me, when all I want to do now is rip your outfit to shreds and toss you back in that bed till morning.” He says, as he grabs my hips pulling me into a heated kiss. Only allowing himself to pull back as I’m gasping for air.

“Very tempting offer.” I breathlessly snicker while running my hands through his thick head of curls. He pulls me back in for one more peck and reluctantly drags me along to the front door so we can head out.

We arrive at the boardwalk and Michael parks his bike exactly where David said they’d be, watching the crowd go by and laughing amongst themselves till we’ve made our way into the group beside them as they take notice. Michael helps me off his bike as we stand in front of them, hands still intertwined.

David looks at us like it’s cute we’re still trying to hold up some type of front to the situation, and I guess in a way he’s right, they have the upper hand.

Surprisingly Marko is the first to speak, “And here I thought you were dreading going out with us, but by the looks of that outfit I’d say you were trying to put on a show, feel free to show off even more skin if you’d like.” It takes everything in my body to stay calm because I know that comment is only meant to get a rise out of me. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

After I take a soothing breath I reply, “It’s hot outside and I’d rather not keel over from overheating, that’s all.”

He leans closer with a smirk and gives a half-hearted “whatever you say sweetheart”, before leaning back and giggling like school girls about it with Paul. I simply roll my eyes and turn my attention back to David.

“Let’s go.” He announces to the group as we all start to follow his lead. Dwayne walks in stride with Michael and I, sandwiching me between them, with Marko and Paul tailing behind us. I decide to chance it and look at Dwayne as he leans down towards me, not breaking eye contact for even a moment as we continue to walk. “Don’t let him get to you, he just likes to ruffle feathers. But for what it’s worth, you look lovely.” His lips lift into a half smile, half smirk once he notices the heat rising to my cheeks at the complement. I attempt to brush it off with a quick ‘thanks’ and steal a glance at Michaels now taut jaw and lingering gaze on us. I turn my attention forward as Dwayne’s hand coyly slides up my waist and is gone again before I even have time to register it as he picks up his pace to step in time with David. Michael lets out a scoff and pulls me closer to his side by our joined hands.

David walked us to a section of restaurants with outdoor seating we could all gather at, choosing a wooden picnic bench for us. Michael and I are sitting on one bench with the two natural blondes and brunette sitting on the other, while David decides to grab a lone chair from a different table and pull it up on the side so he’s seated at the ‘head’ of the table.

“So how is this going to work exactly? Are we all doing this together or…?” I decide to voice my curiosity before the conversation inevitably gets side tracked or leads to another argument.

All eyes turn to David as he fills me in. “We’ll each take you out individually - Dwayne’s first.” Nodding his head in the direction of his friend. My own gaze found its way back to his dark brown eyes, that same smile from earlier plastered on. In that moment a wave of familiarity washed over me, like I’ve gotten lost in those eyes a million times before and would continue to do so for as long as I’d be allowed to stare into them. Like how it feels to look into Michaels.

Michael.

Remembering he’s sitting right next to me I shake the previous thoughts away and proceed to stand to meet Dwayne on the other side so we can get this night started already.

But I freeze in my tracks as it suddenly occurs to me that Michael will be all alone with the other boys for the rest of the evening, and the thought of him being tormented and teased about this situation he has no control over sends a pang of guilt through me. I decide I have to try and ease some of the tension, if I can.

“Wait- before we go I have another condition to add.”

David leans back in his chair with a raised brow, gloved fingers tapping along the table. “Yes?”

“If this is going to work you can’t be at each other's throats the whole time I'm gone. Michael told me that he barely knows anything about any of you and vice versa, so while I'm on each date the rest of you are going to stay here and get to know each other - like real friends.”

“What?”

“I’m serious, you’re not going to sit here all night and fuck with my boyfriend behind my back, I’m not asking.” I try to muster up as much confidence in my words as I'm sure David actually has naturally coursing through him. He only ponders what I've said momentarily before giving a strained smile that doesn’t exactly meet his eyes and mutters out a quick ‘sure’. Looking towards the others that slowly nod along in agreement - even if their faces say otherwise.

Now feeling better about leaving, I let Dwayne lead the way out of the seating area towards the crowds of people scattered along the boardwalk for whatever he had planned.

Michael turns back to the remaining boys seated with him after staring daggers into Dwayne's back before the two completely disappear from sight. He speaks up before the others can, to get the ball rolling. “Okay so…where should we start?” He sends them each a questioning glance.

David stares back with the most incredulous look he can muster, like he couldn’t believe he was actually going through with the ‘getting to know each other idea’. After a minute a mocking smile takes over his face.

“Yeah…” He draws out. “We’re not doing that.” He says with little room for push back.

Michael crosses his arms over his chest and nods his head in a similar mocking manner, amused by the reply. “You’ve got a lot to learn, they’ll come back and expect a full report on what we talked about, want specifics to make sure you followed through on your promise.”

“We’ll make something up.” David again says matter of factly.

Michael scoffs. “They’ll be able to tell if i’m lying, how do you think I ended up in this situation in the first place? I wasn’t able to keep what you did to me a secret.” The other boys may not want to participate in this but he’d be damned if he got into trouble for not at least trying to play nice.

“Alright, fine. I particularly enjoyed watching you get your ass chewed out in front of half the boardwalk last night. It was the highlight of my week.” David faux relents, like he’s shared intimate knowledge of himself only few know and pretends as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders with a content sigh. Stifled giggles from the terror twins echo in the background.

“You know what, the only one you’re hurting is yourself. Keep it up and they’ll want nothing to do with you. Which will be the highlight of my life.”

Silence followed Michaels statement as the two were now sat in a heated staring match. The tension in the air rapidly increased as neither one backed down. If looks could kill they’d both be six feet under. Even the blondes, who hadn’t said a word since the conversation began, were forced into an awkward stillness watching the interaction unfold, waiting for the underlying hostility to bubble over.

Paul decides someone has to try and mediate before this gets any uglier and, more importantly, his turn for a date is possibly soured by the oldest and newest member of their pack coming to blows. In his opinion the best way to deal with this would be to let them fight it out, but he knows the night can’t end with them covered in blood, scratches, and bite marks - unless they’re fucking.

All eyes are suddenly shifted to Paul as he clears his throat obnoxiously. “Uhhh…my favorite band is Mötley Crüe.” He says with a bright smile, proud that it actually worked since the boys' body languages were all seeming to relax.

Marko, good naturedly, pats Paul on the back as an ‘attaboy’ for the attempt.

As Dwayne and I continue walking through the boardwalk I feel one of his hands graze my lower back and rest there. I quickly snatch his wrist and pull it in front of me.

“I said no touching.” I admonish. Before I can drop it, he seizes the opportunity to grab my hand instead.

“I was only trying to guide you, but you’re right this way is better so we don’t get separated.”

“Right…” I probably should have put up more of a fight, but the crowd is double the size of last night's and we could easily lose each other. Not that I really believe his reason for wanting to hold my hand is so noble. I let it slide anyways.

We make small talk about movies and music as we venture through different stalls. Anytime he asks me a question I have to mentally prepare myself before answering. His intense gaze makes me apprehensive, it's like he’s enraptured by every word and I’m nervous if what I'm saying is even adequate. He hasn’t been judgemental yet, so I let his deep baritone put me at ease when he responds to something I’ve said.

He pulls us to a stop in front of an ice cream shop claiming it's the best in town and we should get some. After ordering and him paying for both of ours, we head towards the other side to lean against the railing while we eat. He watches as I dig out a spoonful of the sweet treat to taste. My eyes go wide from the first bite. He wasn’t kidding about how good it is and he seemed proud of himself once I told him exactly that.

After a few mouthfuls of his own, he silently gestures towards his cup asking if I’d like to try the flavor he had and I nod in agreement. He dips his spoon in and holds it to my mouth for me to try. I squint at it before making eye contact with him and before I can even get a word out he’s anticipated why I won't try it.

“You’re not cheating on Michael by tasting my ice cream.”

“No, but I’m not trying to swap spit by sharing a spoon.” I decline, while gently pushing his arm towards his own face to eat it and he does so with a chuckle.

He relents and allows me to try it with my own spoon. I, in turn, make him the same offer with my cup of ice cream.

Instead, he takes his thumb and swipes it across the corner of my mouth before bringing it back to his own and sucking on the digit.

“Pretty good.” He says casually.

I’m in shock as my whole body is set aflame from the intimate moment. He grants me a small mercy by not acknowledging how much it affected me. I proceed to eat the rest in silence knowing if I look him in the eye or, god forbid, try and have a conversation after that I’d be a stuttering mess.

He takes the lead once more by throwing out our trash and grabbing my hand to help me off the railing.

“Let’s check out a few pop up booths, there might be something there you like.” He says as he walks us in that direction.

“Like clothes and stuff?” I ask. I haven’t really explored the boardwalk before so I don’t know much about what they have or the best places to shop.

“Yeah, that’s usually where we pick something up if we need new clothes, that’s where Marko gets all his patches because they’re…cheap.”

“Do you even own a shirt?” I jest. “Because I’ve only ever seen you in just that jacket.”

He looks back at me with amusement in his eyes.

“I do, but the clean up from a night out is much easier without one.”

I give him a weary look and he tenses slightly like he said something he probably shouldn’t have.

“Do I want to know what that means?”

He shakes his head at me, “no, probably not.”

“Let’s just keep the conversation light for now.” I suggest, hoping not to dive into anything too heavy. I’ve enjoyed the mostly chill atmosphere so far and hope it can stay that way.

“Deal”, he says as he gives me a genuine smile as we continue on our way.

🖤 Taglist 🖤

@britany1997 @faefairi3 @princessmads1820 @1nternetvampire @itsyoboysparkel @nataliewalker93 @thelostone91 @misslavenderlady @ursatanicbunny @warrior-616 @charlizekkelly @ghoulgeousimmaculate @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame @the-faceless-bride @wickedsandwich08 @palomam18 @walt25 @phantomenby @dwaynesbiboyfriend @crustyraccoon @vampirefilmlover @certified-ghostbuster @ofmenanduhhhwellmen @solobagginses @asdorlia @besas-stuff @kathylee2003 @notfoundfootage @milfsrcool @queen-bunny @imacollasaltitan @midnight-shadow-va

#the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #poly lost boys x reader

272 notes · View notes

arenpath · 2 months

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𝕭𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝕸𝖊

{Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Summary: An accidental bite leads to you discovering a new kink—after all, what's the point of having vampire boyfriends if they won't bite you? | Commission by @worstghost

Warnings: SMUT!!, blood kink, blood play, biting kink, polyamorous relationship, F/M/M/M/M, group sex, vampire/human relationship, kink discovery, established relationship (new), fem!reader, reader finger paints her boobies with blood and the boys join in, one use of the word 'slut,' mentions of public sex, mentions of orgasm conditioning, repeated orgasms, overstimulation, blowjobs, handjobs, vaginal sex, shy!reader, implied dumbification, masochist!reader, sadism & masochism, pain play, verbal teasing, light degradation. profanity, low-key Dom/sub dynamics, cunnilingus

A/N: Thank you for the commission! I had a lot of fun working with you 💕 My emergency commissions are still open, you can private message me if you have any questions!

Frenzied kisses and wandering hands force you deeper into the couch cushions. Paul's thighs squeeze your hips as he ruts his half-hard cock against you. He's crazed, and you? You're eager. Eager to keep up, eager to please your insatiable vampire boyfriend. You drag your shirt over your chest, revealing the cute, lacy bra you wore, knowing you were getting laid tonight.

It's a perfect night, and you would have sunk into Paul's touch had Dwayne's voice not broken the spell.

"You gotta be careful with her tonight, man."

Paul stops kissing you long enough to shuck off your shirt, but you're still too hazy to make heads or tails of Dwayne's comment. "Huh?"

Marko takes the chance to steal your mouth for himself, and you're quickly distracted by his tongue and forget your other boyfriend's comment.

"Fuck, baby," Paul whines. He kneads your chest, admiring the way the lace clings to them. "Tits so pretty I have to taste 'em."

Marko slips his hand into your panties as Paul latches on to your neck—sucking until he's branded you with a hickey. You whimper into Marko's mouth; your hips arch off the couch.

You can't deny the thrill that races through you when they kiss your neck. You never thought it was sensitive before—not to this extent, but they brought it out in you.

(Maybe it's because they're vampires, or maybe you're easily aroused when you have four sexy men on you at once.)

Four …

"David," you call out.

"David's here," Marko says. "He's just being a buzzkill. Doesn't want in on all the fun."

Paul nips your throat, and you moan.

"Paul," Dwayne warns.

Paul doesn't stop, though. "'M not doing nothin'."

"He's not doin' nothin'," Marko echoes. He pulls away to get a good look at you and presses two fingers against where you need it most. "I can't wait to fuck your mouth, babe."

That makes you blush. "Marko—!"

He swallows your protest with a kiss as he circles your clit.

Should you be concerned?

No—Dwayne is as breathless as the others. He's probably feeling neglected since Marko and Paul have hijacked your attention.

You slip your hand toward Dwayne's, lacing your fingers together with his as Marko teases your sex. You're dragged into the undertow of pleasure. You buck into Marko's hand, so desperate for release that you cry.

Paul groans, dragging his teeth down your neck, "Can't take it. She smells so good."

And then—

—Paul bites you.

Teeth tear into your throat, sharp and deep; your mouth opens in a silent scream.

It's over as soon as it starts. Paul is gone. All of your boys are gone. You're left alone, shaking, gasping, head reeling from what just happened. When you finally get your wits about you, you prop yourself up.

David shoves Paul against the wall, snarling.

Paul's face is different. His baby blue eyes are yellow; his chin is stained with blood. He looks like a beast, but you're not afraid.

"It was an accident," Paul stammers. "I didn't mean to."

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" David shoves him harder. "You could've killed her!"

Your head feels stuffed with cotton, which might explain why you couldn't immediately put two and two together. Something tickles your skin, and you look down, watching rivulets of blood trickle down the valley of your breasts.

"I could rip your throat out for this," David hisses.

You smear the blood with your fingers, spreading it over your skin as you reach for the puncture wounds. You moan.

"You bit me…"

All heads snap toward you. You can practically hear their confusion, that simultaneous, huh? shouted through their bond.

They've never done that before. You thought they weren't interested or that your blood wasn't appetizing enough to tempt them.

You press your fingers against the wound and moan again, smearing the blood down your chest. That feeling when Paul bit you wasn't pain—not the way pain should feel. Instead, it was like lightning. It shot straight to your cut, yanking that coil of need so tight that it snapped.

Your cheeks burn with equal parts embarrassment and awe as you realize the truth. "You bit me and I came."

You're mortified, and yet, you've never been more aroused.

Paul bit you.

He bit you.

And you liked it.

Paul swallows hard, looking less monstrous than before. "I didn't… mean to?"

"... It's okay …"

"It's not 'okay,'" David says, his voice tight. "None of us have fed tonight."

His implication should have frightened you, but it fails miserably.

Your boys are hungry, and they're craving you. That's nearly as arousing as getting bit. You squeeze your thighs together, shyly glancing between the four of them before staring at the floor.

"If you want to drink a little more ..." You trail off, unsure how to put your thoughts into words. "I wouldn't mind."

Dwayne says your name, but he's hanging on by a thread. His warm brown eyes shifted to that bestial yellow; it wouldn't take much for him to change completely.

"Do you even know what you're asking for?" David prods.

You squirm under his gaze. "I do." David narrows his eyes. You know he needs a direct answer, or he'll keep going in circles. "What's the point of having vampire boyfriends if they're not gonna bite me?"

The boys eye each other, engaging in a silent conversation that you're not privy to. David clenches his jaw.

You haven't been together long, but it doesn't matter. "I trust you."

They watch David, waiting for him to make up his mind.

David steps forward.

He kneels, scrutinizing you like he thinks you're lying. He looks for that flicker of fear so he can say I told you so and kick you out. His overprotectiveness makes you feel all fuzzy inside. They care too much for your safety, and that's how you know you want this more than anything.

"Bite me," you beg, "please." You press your bloodstained fingers to his lips. "Drink my blood."

You must have said something right because there's a palpable shift in the air. David blinks, and his blue eyes bleed yellow as he wraps his pretty pink lips around your digits. He wraps a hand around your wrist and forces your fingers deeper into his hungry maw.

The others descend on you silently, eager to claim their place near you. Hands strip you from your jeans and wander below your underwear, playing with your body like it was theirs to toy with.

"You want David to bite you, babe?" Marko teases, nipping the skin behind your ear.

"Yes." You fluster as David drags his tongue between the valley of your fingers, and you can't help but imagine how it would feel elsewhere. He doesn't break eye contact for one second. "I want all of you to."

"All of us?" Dwayne echoes smugly.

"I do." Fuck, you wish your voice were stronger, but how can you think straight when they're touching you like this? "Please."

David turns your wrist over and sinks his teeth into your paper-thin flesh. You drop your head against Paul's chest, gasping. It hurts in the most delicious way possible. That exquisite agony shoots directly to your sex; your pussy gushes. Your panties have to be drenched, the delicate lace ruined by your stupid, masochistic yearning.

David laps at the wound he created, gulping down your blood like he's starving.

"Fuck, you really do like this," Paul moans. "Baby, you're perfect."

"Thank him for biting you," Marko says.

"Thank you!" You smile, eyes glazed over from the intensity of everything. "I-I need more."

Paul drags his tongue between your tits to his mark on your neck, cleaning the mess he created. The wound is sensitive. Every time his tongue moves through the ragged edges, your pussy clenches, and you're all too aware of how empty you are without something to fill you.

Dwayne pulls you sideways, taking advantage of your exposed lower half to kiss and suck your thighs. His teeth scrape the sensitive skin just below your apex before sinking in. This time, you scream. You can't help it. Stars explode before your eyes, but you don't know if it's from pleasure or blood loss. You don't care, either.

A hand moves toward your cunt and strokes you through your ruined panties.

"Look at you," David croons. "You're soaked. You weren't lying about how much you liked this."

Marko snickers, pulling your breast out of the bra. "Someone's a little fang slut."

Tears of pleasure leak down your cheeks, and you laugh. "It feels so good."

You babble, pleading for more, and they give it to you. David tears your underwear off, spreading your pussy with two fingers for Dwayne to ravage your needy hole with his tongue. He licks your puffy clit, prying pleasure out of you like shards of broken glass. The blood loss heightens the sloppy, wet ministrations.

"Oh my—oh my god!"

You can't squirm away; his grip is like iron. David won't let you move, either. He forces your hips down, ensuring you feel every second of Dwayne's glorious torture.

Dwayne abandons your clit in favor of tongue-fucking your cunt, but David refuses to leave it neglected. His thumb circles the nub, slipping under the hood so he can tease your nerves directly.

"Don't stop," you stammer. "Please, I need it—!"

Marko gives you no warning before he bites just above the swell of your breast. It wrecks you. You've never come so hard in your life—the combination of Dwayne's tongue and Marko's fangs hurled you over the edge without warning.

"You're so fucking hot," Marko groans. He spreads the blood with his fingers and licks it off before pressing on the wound once more and starting all over again. "I bet we can train you to come on command."

"Do it," you beg.

"Just think of it." David unbuckles his belt, and you rush to help him. He relinquishes an ounce of control, allowing you to wrap your hand around his throbbing cock. "We'll just graze our teeth against you, and your pussy will be drenched."

"I'd do it in public," adds Paul. "And watch her try not to come in front of all those people."

Shit. If you were a little braver or just a little drunker on overstimulation, you might have the strength to voice how appealing their sadistic proposal is. The mere idea of being unable to stop them from giving you an orgasm from a single bite sends shivers down your spine. You're already helpless compared to them as a human, but this? This would make you pathetic: a vampire's plaything.

You want it all and more.

You stroke David faster. His eyes roll back and lips part as he swears softly. His bloodstained fangs wink at you, taunting you with the boys' lurid fantasies.

Marko straddles your chest, his leaky cock inches from your nose. Your mouth water. You start to surge forward, but Dwayne yanks your hips off the couch and into the air, leaving you to balance most of your weight on your shoulders.

Marko takes advantage of your open, gasping mouth and thrusts inside; Dwayne splits your pussy open simultaneously. They stuff you at both ends, demolishing that gnawing hollowness inside your body.

You don't have the mental capacity to think, only moan. Every thrust from Dwayne makes you choke on Marko; Paul ruts against your free hand, maneuvering it into his pants so you can stroke him and David in tandem. You can already tell that Paul won't last long, but he'll be ready for round two by the time the others finish.

"Why don't we start training you now, hmm?" Marko fucks your throat harder, building a brutal pace that Dwayne matched, thrust for thrust.

You can picture it—your limp body, covered in your blood and their semen, still shaking from the overstimulation; barely human, and utterly theirs.

Marko pulls out just long enough for you to give your answer:

"Bite me."

#the lost boys x reader #the lost boys smut #the lost boys

656 notes · View notes

arenpath · 2 months

Note

can i please request paul from lost boys and stockings, this has been ingrained in my mind, anything else is up to you

➾ pairing ; paul (the lost boys) x fem!reader.

FORMAT: drabble — requested.

WORD COUNT: 3.7K.

WARNINGS: SMUT! (mdni), paul wears a choker in this fic, groping, making out, p in v sex, unprotected sex, cumplay, cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving), face-sitting, stocking/hosiery kink, scent kink, marking, biting, hair-pulling, paul is a boob guy for sure, dirty talk, fingering (f!receiving), tiddy sucking, body worship

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this request was ridiculously sexy and changed the trajectory of my life ngl :’) so thank you for this because I had a ton of fun writing it !!! as always, thank you all so much for your love and support! I’m still trucking on with requests!

Vibrant strands of ribbon held a sizable black box together as it sat directly in front of you, poised along the edge of your makeshift vanity. It was intended to be a surprise — if you could even call it that.

Paul made some offhand comment about wanting to see you in something sultry, dolled up in lace and frilly garters — you wanted to fulfill that for him. You couldn’t tell if it was serious or simply a colorful joke intended to make you flustered.

Out of sheer impulse and the desire to shock Paul, you’d bought lingerie at a shoddy boutique down at the boardwalk, complete with sheer, black stockings. You wondered if he’d care about it when he saw you — it was going to come off, anyway. What was the use?

Candlelight danced across the cavernous alcove of your nest, casting flickering shadows across the tapestry-covered walls. The box seemed to call to you like a siren’s song, tempting you — you hadn’t even tried it on yet, either.

A gilded mirror sat soundly amongst your belongings, as if coaxing you closer. Curiosity and the desire to see how you looked in such risqué garments got the better of you, prompting you to push yourself up from your mattress.

You had time — Paul was out hunting, and you could do a little twirl in the mirror and take it off.

You clamored toward your vanity, hastily plucking the box from its perch as you unraveled the spool of ribbon that held it all together. It fluttered toward the foot of your bed, preparing to be long forgotten as you unveiled the sheet lace and black fabric.

Satin and lace glided between your fingers as you caressed the material, holding up the set toward the glower of orange light. You promptly undressed, not that there was much to begin with aside from an oversized shirt. It smelled of stale hairspray — Paul, no doubt.

It felt strange, putting on a getup that you never envisioned yourself in to begin with. Admittedly, your confidence had blossomed since being with Paul — he was unapologetically himself, and that had some effect on you, too.

Once you shed your shirt and undergarments, you reached for the lingerie, tugging it on with a bit of brute force. It was tight — unnaturally snug, but you assumed that it was intentional. You sat down on the edge of your bed, tugging the stockings on until they perched around the middle of your thighs.

Your reflection was nothing short of stunning — a goddess incarnate. You stepped closer, twisting and turning every which way, occasionally plucking at the placement of the fabric. Some of it felt itchy and uncomfortable, as if it’d strangle you.

Smoothing your hands across your stocking-clad legs, you continued to twirl, catching glimpses of yourself in the glittering glass. You contemplated keeping it on, maybe throwing a robe over it, but it seemed a little too tacky for your taste.

“Woah,” You nearly jumped out of your own flesh at the sound of Paul’s voice. You couldn’t see his reflection — he ceased to exist in the mirror, standing at the entrance to your nest with a dumbfounded expression. “What’s all that you got on, babe?”

Heat crawled over your flesh, causing you to burn with embarrassment. You bit at your lower lip, deliberately swiveling around until you faced him. “It’s nothing.” You mumbled, reaching for the corner of your blanket in an attempt to cover yourself up.

Paul was swift, as fast as a bolt of lightning as he flicked the blanket aside, circling around you like a wolf would a lamb. He let out a whistle of approval, clearly reveling in the sight of you. “Nothing? C’mon, you’re not serious, are you? You look gorgeous.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” You confessed, twisting your hands together as you rocked up and down upon the balls of your feet. “I know you said something about wanting to see me in lingerie. I wasn’t sure how you’d like it.” With a soft exhale, you felt his hand brush against your waist.

His mouth curled into a lopsided grin, eyes bright with obsession and adoration. There was something mildly crazed about his expression, but he was beyond thrilled with the visual feast he was being treated to. “How I’d like it?” Paul inquired, seemingly bewildered.

There was a sudden softness to his tone, as if he cared little for what he thought. To Paul, you were nothing short of delectably gorgeous — it didn’t matter what you wore.

You nodded, chewing at the inside of your cheek. “I suppose so. I mean, it’s just lingerie. I figured you’d rip all of it off anyway.” You mused, watching with intrigue as his countenance contorted into a look of shock.

“Might rip some of it,” Paul smirked, digits hooking themselves into the front of your panties. “But these?” He gestured toward your stockings, which rose up to the middle of your thighs. “These are gonna stay on.”

With a sense of finality, Paul grabbed your hips, sitting down on the bed with you planted firmly in his lap. He ran his hands over the sheer material covering your thighs, feeling his cock twitch inside of his jeans. You were elated, draping your arms around the back of his neck.

Your fingers dove into his stiff, coarse mane of blonde tresses, raking through until you’d grabbed at the roots. Paul kissed you hard, open-mouthed and deliciously sloppy as he grabbed at the swell of your ass. Your breasts looked perfect in that brassiere, but he preferred to see them unclad.

“Shit, baby, you smell so good,” Paul groaned, burying his face into the crook of your neck, littering every inch of flesh with sloppy kisses and bites. “You look so fuckin’ hot like this.” He murmured, and that made you shiver in delight, attempting to press your thighs together.

A swirling, molten heat sank into the pit of your stomach, causing your back to arch into his embrace. Your mouth clamored for his, your lips colliding with one another’s as he groped at your thighs. Paul thoroughly enjoyed the way you looked in stockings — mesmerizing, really.

The gesture was thoughtful — as much as Paul found some sentiment in it, he cared more for fucking you within an inch of your life in those stupid stockings. His mind veered off with lascivious thoughts, all of them purely unholy as he swept his tongue across your lower lip.

Those wandering hands of his immediately reached for the clasps of your brassiere, but instead of trying to properly remove it, he simply tore it apart. You gasped, watching as he discarded the material somewhere on the ground, absentmindedly licking at his lips.

“Paul,” You huffed, able to feel his erection grinding into your core. Goosebumps coalesced along your spine as his hand danced from your back to your hips, digits skirting underneath the waistband of your panties. A soft moan escaped you when he made contact with your aching cunt. “Please.”

A thin sheen of slick coated his eager digits, and Paul wasted no time in touching you. He was grinning, appraising you with a look of passion. “Wet for me already, babe?” He crooned, pressing his mouth against the column of your throat.

Your head bobbed up and down in a lackadaisical nod, lips agape as a simpering moan escaped you. “Feels so good,” Without missing a beat, his thumb grinded into your clit, dragging around the bundle of nerves in agonizingly-slow circles. “I need you so bad.”

“Yeah?” His voice emerged as a tantalizing purr, tongue sweeping across your jaw. Your flesh tasted velveteen, saccharine upon his tongue. There was nothing sweeter than you — his human, his mate. “Need you more.” Paul teased, nipping at your earlobe.

The ghoulish choker adorning his neck served as the perfect anchor as you hooked two fingers beneath it, dragging his mouth back to yours. The enthralled look within his eyes made your breath hitch, cunt clenching pathetically around nothing at all.

Heat and pure tension bled between the both of you, and Paul’s eyes became dilated with lust, glistening with a golden sheen. He kissed you hard, fingers burying themselves between your thighs as he pushed two digits inside of you.

A pleasured gasp escaped you as you rocked atop his hand, savoring the sensation of his fingers pumping in and out of you. The heady, honey-thick scent of your arousal was a delectable smell to him — and Paul wanted so much more.

His attention with kissing was notoriously short-lived as he kissed his way down to your chest — his favorite. Paul licked his lips as if he were preparing to have the most delicious meal, pursing his pouty mouth around one of your nipples.

A calloused palm encircled your other breast, groping and kneading into the soft, pliant flesh. He pinched and tugged at your nipple, mouth suckling at the other. His hand was gingerly rocking back and forth between your legs, pistoning in and out of your tight cunt.

“P—Paul!” A whine tore past your lips, hips jolting and surging into the rhythmic ministrations of his hand. Whatever had gotten into him, you loved it — you wanted him to destroy you. Your hands tugged on his mane of sandy-blonde tresses, head rolling backwards.

“You’ve got the prettiest tits, sweet thing,” Paul groaned against your flesh, mouth hotly returning to your chest. He sucked and nibbled until you were squirming, deciding to switch sides and shower the rest of you in attention. “Wish I could stay here forever.” He mumbled.

Another wave of heat rolled through you, your expression a concoction of pleasure and embarrassment. His compliments were delightful, but sometimes you didn’t believe them. One of your hands fell into his lap, palming at his jean-clad erection.

“Can if you want.” You uttered, feeling his lips curl into a devious grin around your breast. You kept one hand curled into a tight fist, grabbing at his hair as the other wrangled his belt off. It felt unfair that Paul was doing everything.

Paul thoroughly enjoyed listening to your thoughts whenever the two of you fucked — and he didn’t feel like he was doing everything. He wanted to, anyway. “Lookin’ so gorgeous in these,” He huffed, hand dropping to your thigh as he hooked it behind your knee. “Could you wear them all the time? Just for me?”

It was hard not to giggle at Paul’s subtle demand, though the noise quickly tapered off into a moan when his teeth grazed your nipple. His digits slowed, sluggishly rutting in and out of your cunt, thumb focused on playing with your clit. You whimpered, unable to keep from writhing atop his lap.

When he tore his mouth away from your breast, he continued his path of bites and hickeys, leaving behind a trail from your collarbone to sternum. Paul knew what he wanted, shedding his jacket as he tugged his hand away. You groaned, grabbing at his wrist in an attempt to redirect him.

“Please don’t stop,” You whined, feeling his body vibrate with soft chuckles. Paul wasn’t one to edge you like this, but he seemed to have something in-mind. You watched as he moved back on the bed, laying down all the way. “What are you doing?”

Paul grinned, wolfish as could be as he wrapped his fingers around the waistband of your panties, and pulled — the sound of fabric being torn asunder reverberated throughout the alcove. He bumped you up towards his chest, hands hooked behind your knees, digits caressing the material of your stockings.

“Lettin’ you sit,” He mused, and when you were close enough, he kissed your inner thighs. “Unless you don’t want to.” Paul’s nose wrinkled in amusement when you immediately shook your head, knowing exactly what he had intended for you.

“Please,” You bucked forward, desperate to sit on his face. “Paul, please!” You begged, shamelessly pleading with your boyfriend to let you ride his mouth. He hadn’t done something like this before — the opportunity was far too tantalizing.

Through thick lashes and a cheshire smirk, Paul deliberately moved you forward, handling you as if you weighed nothing at all. He bit and kissed at your thighs until he sat you down on his face, wasting no time in lapping at your aching cunt.

If it were up to him, he would’ve stayed here, glued to you for the rest of the night. He was notoriously sloppy and messy, tongue greedily lapping along your slit, hands caging you in behind your knees. You moaned, fingers twisting into his hair, hips rocking forward just slightly.

His cock throbbed within his jeans, feeling confined and uncomfortably snug. Paul was unabashedly passionate, lips sliding from your cunt to your clit, stubbled jaw grinding against your inner thighs. He could feel your nylon-clad knees squeeze toward his head.

Your stomach felt like mush, a pit of heat and swirling warmth as you nearly collapsed altogether. His lips pursed around your clit, suckling and teasing that sensitive clutch of nerves before he returned to lapping at your core, interchanging the two.

“Paul,” You moaned, knowing that you wouldn’t last in this state. Every fiber of your being burned with something incredible, a sense of ecstasy that made you shudder in delight. Paul urged you forward, mouth relentlessly assaulting your cunt until your legs quivered. “Paul!”

His name fell from your lips like a prayer, as if it were the only word you knew how to say. It was a chant, burned into the recesses of your mind as you rocked forward, feeling his hands relocate to the swell of your hips.

In one movement, he had you pinned down on your back, face buried between your thighs. Your legs involuntarily locked him in, threatening to suffocate him — not that he cared in the slightest. Paul’s palms clapped into the pliant flesh of your thighs, fingers slipping against your stockings.

He ate you out like a man starved, tongue raking hot embers across your aching core, hips haplessly rutting themselves against the mattress for a shred of friction. He was painfully hard, getting off on the feeling of nylon pressing into his face and the taste of your cunt.

Your back arched, hands clawing at his unruly tresses as he sucked at your clit again, a low groan stuck within the back of his throat. “M’close,” You slurred, dizzy and drunk with desire as you pushed your hips forward, feeling him drag you onto his tongue. “Fuck!”

Paul loved it when you had a mouth on you — the expletives meant that he was doing a good job. It was all the encouragement and spurring-on that he needed to help you finish, tongue dipping toward your entrance before returning to toy with your clit.

“That’s it, baby,” Paul crooned, licking his lips like a dog as he raked his nails over your leg, letting them snag on the nylon. He was enthralled by the way that you looked — naked save for those stockings of yours. “You taste so good.” He sighed, unbuckling his jeans with a sudden haste.

Between the white-hot explosion of your orgasm and Paul’s manic undressing, you composed yourself just enough to get your hands in his mesh shirt. You wanted it off, tugging at it with a sense of urgency as he stooped down to kiss you — it was hot and messy, accompanied by a barrage of tongue.

His cock was pretty, just like the rest of him.

“You really like these, don’t you?” You mumbled, hooking a leg around his hips. There was a visible spark within his eyes when you did that, chest rising and falling with a flurry of excitement.

Paul nodded, mouth tilting into a dazed, lopsided grin. “Yeah,” He confessed, shamelessly grabbing your other leg in order to hitch it up around his hips. “Fuck, you just look so good in them. Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He murmured, hand falling to knead at your swollen breast.

The orange glow of candlelight bathed him in a series of softer hues, igniting his hair with a peculiar shade. You kept your legs locked around him, hands moving toward the column of his throat as he pushed his cock into you, being deliberately gentle, to start.

He looked perfect — that choker he wore around only made him prettier.

You coaxed him close for a kiss, open-mouthed and full of an unrestrained need as he began to fuck you at a steady pace. Paul could get rough and wild if he wanted to, but this time, he seemed fixated on slow and steady — that was more than enough for you.

Your nails raked across the nape of his neck, twining one fist into the roots of his coarse, stiff tresses, the other applying pressure against his neck. The groan he released into your kiss made your cunt clench around his cock, body simmering with another pleasant wave of heat.

Paul bit at your lower lip, sharp enough to withdraw a pearl of blood. He lapped at it before you could say anything, grinning like a wolf, eyes lascivious and stirring with lust as he moved forward. His pace increased into a steady rhythm, fucking you with an incendiary passion.

“Don’t stop.” You whispered, voice hoarse and strung-out with desire. Your chest blossomed with adoration, meeting his cerulean-eyed gaze as your hand trailed from his neck to his jaw. Paul appeared mesmerized and transfixed, hues glistening with a golden sheen.

With another roll of his hips, you lifted your body just slightly, colliding with him. A soft moan escaped you, heat crawling across your flesh, stomach turning to liquid. Your legs tightened around his hips, feeling his lips kiss their way down to your chest once more.

Paul shamelessly took one of your breasts into his mouth again, lips pursed around your nipple as he sucked and bit at the sensitive bud. The steady roll of his thrusts soon increased in pace, cock rutting into you as he reached every perfect spot imaginable.

You whimpered, back arching off of the wrinkled, tousled sheets and into his ministrations, eyes fluttering shut. He showered your swollen chest in constant attention, alternating between suckling and kissing as he hungrily bit at your collarbone. The crescent-shaped indents were merely extensions of his affection.

“So perfect for me, baby,” Paul mumbled against your silken flesh, fucking into you with a noticeable fervor as you squeezed his his hips again. The scratch of your nylon stockings against his skin made him shiver, bucking into you as he kissed at your tits. “Fuck, you’re all mine.” He groaned.

His noises were like music to your ears, breathy grunts and sighs, shameless praises that made your entire body tingle with bliss. You tugged on his tresses again, whimpering when he dragged his cock out nearly all the way before pounding right back into you.

Inch by perfect inch, he filled you up, littering your body in countless marks as if you were a canvas, made just for him. His hands grabbed at your thighs, kneading and groping at the pliant flesh there as he rocked forward, huffing and grunting as he picked up speed.

A dizzying sensation washed over you, ecstasy intermingled with love. He was all over you, consuming you like a fever that you couldn’t sweat out — and you didn’t want to.

Between the flurry, rushed clamor of lips, tongue, bodies, and heat, your scent was emblazoned within Paul’s mind, burned there for days to come. His senses swam with only you, something so overwhelmingly intoxicating for him. The excitable thrumming of your heart made him exhale, fucking into you again and again.

A moan tore past your parted lips, feeling Paul’s rutting slow to a crawl as he pushed into you one last time. A soft grunt escaped him as a few ropes of hot seed filled you, but he pulled out halfway through, painting your stomach and tits in a sticky sheen.

He was aiming for your chest — mostly.

You came in-tandem with him, cunt clenching around nothing at all as you dropped one leg from around his hips, regaining your composure. You caught your breath, letting out a soft huff as you watched him roll away from you.

“You should clean up your mess.” You giggled, grabbing at the corner of one of the blankets strewn across the ground. Before you could clean yourself up, Paul returned with a cloth — wherever he’d gotten it from, you had no idea. He perched himself in front of you, wiping away his cum from your body.

“M’not sorry, babe. You look pretty like that,” Paul smirked, hair a disheveled, crazed mane of flaxen-gold as he tossed the rag elsewhere. He unceremoniously fell onto the mattress in a heap. “You’re keepin’ these on — permanently.” He flicked a finger against your stockings to make his point.

An amused chuckle escaped you as you shrugged your shoulders, settling down beside him. Paul sluggishly crawled over to snuggle, resting his head atop your chest as he’d done several times before. “I don’t know, I like surprising you.” You mused.

Paul snickered, tracing idle, sweet patterns into your leg, other arm hitched around your hips. “Oh yeah? You got any other surprises?” It was an open-ended invoking of a challenge — and you had some ideas.

“A few. You’ll have to be patient.” A gasp left you when Paul playfully bit at your jaw, unable to keep his hands and his mouth off of you. The nest smelled like you — and the scent of sex. Those were his favorites.

“I don’t know about that, sweet thing,” He uttered, squeezing into your hips with a lascivious expression. “I’ve got a few surprises of my own.”

#the lost boys x reader #the lost boys #paul tlb

299 notes · View notes

arenpath · 2 months

Text

ℭ𝔯𝔶 𝔏𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔖𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯; III

{poly!lost boys x fem!reader}

♱ 𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: explicit

♱ 𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: Michael's sudden change is unwelcome in the Emerson household. After an apparent prank that scares you and your brothers, you take matters into your own hands and confront David's gang head on.

♱ 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: emerson!reader, fem!reader, reader is 18-19 (middle child), reader wears glasses, foul language, sibling dynamics, mentions of divorce, stuck-up?reader (she's prissy at times), teasing, temptation at its finest, mentions of stalking, flirting????? at the music store???? get your act together girl,

♱ 𝔞/𝔫: there are a few new scenes in this chapter because I wanted the reader to have more interaction with the boys before giving in. Side note, but I hate when I find a good song and it's released after '87, because it would be perfect for this series. So, the unofficial song for this chapter is Give In to Me by Michael Jackson. Also, if this were a movie, Runaway would start playing as soon as the reader storms out of the house to confront the boys on the boardwalk. OG word count: 2432, revamped word count: 4250

[1] [2] ... [4] ... [8] [9]

Michael is acting weird.

Okay. To be fair, your brother is always weird, but this is different. He's mean. He sleeps all day and wakes up at sunset, then hops on his bike and drives off to God knows where.

At first, you thought he was avoiding Mom after the boardwalk incident. Pissed was not an accurate rage descriptor for how upset she had been when she learned what he did. At first, you defended Michael. You did tell him it would be okay. But when he started acting like an ass, you became less sympathetic.

The night after that, David's gang came to the house. They didn't come inside—but they did tear up the driveway. They revved their engines, jeering Michael's name, goading him to go outside.

Mom had caught Mike on his way out and encouraged him to bring them in.

"They might like a nice, home cooked meal." she said, peering at them through the curtains.

"Maybe next time," was his reply.

There was no next time.

Another notable incident occurred when Sam forgot to untie Nanook and bring him inside.

You chased Michael to the front door, fuming. "What? You're too cool to let the dog in in front of your friends?"

"He's not my dog," said Michael.

"But Mom asked you to do this."

"I don't have to do everything she says. Neither do you, you're an adult."

"And you're being an asshole."

Michael stepped outside, and, of course, David's gang was waiting.

Michael rolled his eyes, "Why can't you get the dog, four-eyes?"

"Because you're already outside!"

Michael narrowed his eyes like he gained the power to see through your bullshit and laughed cruelly: "You're scared of them."

And, for the first time that night, you spared a glance behind him toward the boys. They said nothing, but you're sure they heard every word, considering they watched your squabble unfold like a soap opera.

For the record, you're not scared of them.

You're annoyed. Disgusted. (A little scared of how they make you feel, but that's neither here nor there.)

And you could tell Mike this, but instead you said, "Oh, fuck off." before storming into the lawn.

Nanook, who had been barking at the boys, calmed when you approached; however, you were too distracted to give the dog more than a head-pat. You were conscious of your every movement as soon as you stepped outside—your walk, the sway of your hips, your posture, hell, even your clothes. You liked your clothes, but you almost resented how dowdy they were. Why hadn't you worn something more revealing? You usually hate having people leer at your body but with these guys ...

Michael said something to them, and they laughed. It could have been nothing, but you swore they were talking about you, so you rushed inside and didn't look back.

After that, you did everything you could to avoid seeing them when they came around.

You lie and say these weird feelings began after that dream, but you know that's not true. Those boys have been burrowing in your brain since the beginning. The sound of their bikes roaring up the driveway makes your heart skip a beat.

Sometimes—and you're reluctant to admit this—but sometimes you place yourself where they can see you. The upstairs window, the garage, the doorway—places far enough that they can't call out to you but close enough for them to look.

It's stupid. You don't understand why you do it. These guys are strange and probably dangerous. You shouldn't want anything to do with them.

But that doesn't stop you.

Weirdly, you like being watched. It's like being under a microscope, but you've put yourself on the slide and control the outcome. A shrink would tell you that you're acting out because of your parents' divorce. That's the savory answer, so you refuse to believe there's another reason.

A bird keeps leaving you gifts on your windowsill.

You haven't seen the bird in action, but you know it has to be one. It leaves you items at night. Random things.

The first one you find is a shell. It's beautiful—one of those shells you can't find on the beach, only in tourist shops. It's as big as your palm and bone-white. You assume the bird had placed it there after deciding it was unfit for its nest, so you brought it inside.

Two fluffy yellow dandelions were placed in the same spot the next day. The day after that, a flat stone with a hole in the center. Then, a feather.

On and on the little gifts came. You're not sure what you did to befriend this bird, but you're grateful. In the midst of so much turmoil with Mike, David, and Mom, the gifts never fail to make you smile.

"Honey?"

"Yeah, Mom?"

She quietly thanks the customer for coming and passes the plastic bag across the counter. When they're gone, she turns to you again.

"Why don't you grab a bite to eat?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Oh, please!" Mom shakes her head, giving you that knowing smile. "You've been with me all day. Go and get yourself something to eat. Better yet, stretch your legs."

You flash your 'new' (secondhand) paperback at her. "I already did."

She says your name in warning, but there's no bite to it. You know she's just looking out for you. With a sigh, you tuck the book into your bag and kiss her cheek goodbye.

If this was any other day, you wouldn't have bothered to come with your mom to work, but Max had called and asked if she could work a double because Maria was sick, meaning she would be here until dark. You know she's a big girl and grew up on the mean streets of Santa Carla without you, but today was also her and dad's wedding anniversary, and well...

Mom won't admit it, but you know she's struggling. It's the big reason she took the extra shift; it helps her not think about her failed marriage.

The door swings open, and you barely glimpse who is in your periphery before you swear.

"Shit."

"What is it, honey?" She greets the new group with a big smile. "Hello! If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask ..." She pauses. Squints her eyes, looking, really looking, at the group. "Have we met before?"

"We're frequent flyers," says an all-too familiar voice.

David.

"Oh, alright," Mom cheers.

"Bye," you mutter. You turn fast and nearly collide with Marko, but you dodge at the last second. "Excuse me."

You exit the store and thrust yourself into the night crowd. Of course, the one night they take off from terrorizing Michael, they come after you.

Actually—you glance at the nearest clock—it's too early for them to be at Grandpa's house. (Yes, you have their schedule memorized. No, that's not weird.)

And, no, you don't have an inflated sense of self-importance because one glance over your shoulder told you the four of them left the video store as soon as they came in. You don't know if they're following you or if this is their childish idea of a prank, but you refuse to find out.

You duck into the nearest store before they see you—a music shop. The walls are lined with albums, cassettes, and CDs. Band posters cover what little space is left; somewhere in the corner, a rock song wafts from its boombox.

You don't frequent music shops; you might if you're with Michael or Sammy, but most of your cassettes are inherited from Mom. Still, you wander toward the folk-rock section and figure you have a few moments to kill before you seek out food.

But good things never last.

The door opens, and you don't have to look this time to know.

"So, you're stalking me now?" you ask.

Paul snatches the tape from your hand. "Midnight Voyage? C'mon, girl, you gotta get with the times."

You grab it back. "I like the Mamas and the Papas."

"That song's as old as you."

You cross your arms. "I thought you, of all people, understood good music doesn't have an expiration date?"

Marko, Dwayne, and David snicker, and Paul has the decency to look sheepish. You rest your hip against the display and raise your chin.

"What do you guys want?"

"We're here to look at music," says David.

"Uh-huh. Videos, too?"

He challenges you with a sarcastic look. "It's Friday night."

"Whatever."

You snake around them and move to a different display, but they follow.

"You have to like some rock," Paul tries again.

You fight a smile. He's ... almost charming. "I didn't say I didn't."

Marko joins in, "Who?"

You flip through the singles, not paying them any mind as they throw out different band names.

Aerosmith, Bon Jovi, Depeche Mode, Van Halen - tell me you like Van Halen, baby?

You find what you're looking for and flash it to the boys with a grin. "Iggy Pop, The Passenger."

Marko frowns, but it's more appreciative than judgemental.

Dwayne nods in agreement. "Not bad."

Your answer pacifies Paul, but he's not satisfied. "We need to find you some music that you can dance to, baby."

"I don't dance," you say. "Especially in front of other people."

"Are you always this serious?" David asks.

For some reason, that hits you where it hurts. You glare at him, dropping the single back in its slot. "Do you always stick your nose into other people's business?"

David has the audacity to smirk. "It's just an observation, princess."

You scoff and try to shoulder past him, but David is fast. He catches your bicep. His grip is barely there, but it stops you in your tracks. You hold your breath, all too aware that you're sandwiched between him and Dwayne.

"If you keep running off like this, you're gonna make us think you don't like us," David teases.

"I don't," you lie.

He cocks his head. "You sure?"

You swear he can see through you, but you're unwilling to give in. Not yet.

You step closer, looking him dead in the eye. "I've never been more certain."

Jerking away, you make a b-line for the door. David can't let you have the last word, though.

"Tell Michael we'll see him later," he calls out.

You shove the door open and shout back, "Bite me!"

You're in the kitchen helping Mom with dinner when Michael stomps down the stairs, sunglasses tucked in the neck of his t-shirt.

Mom rushes to meet him. (Even she's aware she only has a finite amount of time before she loses him again.)

"Michael, do you want to take the night off and have dinner with your family?" She reaches for him, but Michael keeps walking. "We haven't eaten together in a while. It would be nice."

He snorts. "Yeah, right."

Michael opens the door without another word, and the roaring of motorcycle engines fills the house.

Mom shrivels the tiniest bit. Had you not been watching her, you wouldn't have noticed, but you did, and it pisses you off.

You sit the bowl down a little too hard and chase after him.

"Michael." He ignores you. "Michael!" You latch onto his stupid leather jacket and yank him back."Look, I don't know what's gotten into you, but it doesn't give you the right to be an ass to Mom."

He smiles, "But I can to you, right?"

Michael tries to walk away, but you hold firm.

"Why are you acting like this?"

"Listen." Michael faces you head-on. "Unlike you, I've got friends waiting for me. So, why don't you run back inside, little sister? Hm?"

Tears burn the back of your eyes, but your anger burns brighter. You release him with a push.

"Well, at least I'm not pretending to be something I'm not."

Michael frowns. For a moment, you think your words hit their mark, and you see the faintest glimmer of the old Michael in his eyes. He opens his mouth to speak.

"Michael!"

"C'mon, Michael!"

"Mikey boy!"

You flinch as they rev their bikes. It works its charm because all traces of remorse are gone from Michael's face.

He looks at you coldly. "I gotta go."

"Michael, you're making a mistake," you say.

He rolls his eyes. "Don't wait up."

"Hey, baby!" Paul shouts. "Don't you wanna come party with us?!"

You flip them off, and they erupt into a chorus of laughter.

You toss the phone onto Michael's chest, startling him from his mid-day nap.

"... What the hell?"

"Mom's on the phone. She wants to talk to you."

Michael cracks his eyes open, wincing. "What time is it?"

"Two o'clock. You slept all day. Again." You don't even try to mask your rage. If he's going to be a jerk, you'll give it right back.

Michael motions for the sunglasses on his bedside table. "Hand me those, will you?"

You scoff but throw them at him, too. "You need sunglasses to talk on the phone? Are you high?"

"Fuck off," he mutters, and picks up the phone. "Hi, Mom..."

You faintly hear her voice drifting from the receiver. "Michael are you still in bed?"

"No. I'm up."

"Can you do me a favor this evening? Will you stay home with Sam tonight? I'm meeting Max for dinner."

"I watch him all the time, Mom," he says unsympathetically. "The only time I have for myself is the evening." He locks eyes with you from behind his sunglasses. "Can't you have her watch him? Or Grandpa? They stay home all the time, anyway."

"I want you to do this," Mom says. "You come home late, sleep all day—Sammy's always alone."

"No, he's not!"

"Michael, please! Your sister should not have to do everything all the time. Now, you always do whatever you want, and I don't stop you ... tonight, I want to do what I want for a change. Do you know how long it's been since someone has asked me out to dinner?"

Michael works his jaw and says nothing.

"Please, Michael?"

He presses his lips into a thin line. "Okay. Fine. I'll watch Sammy."

He hangs up with a groan, rubbing his eyes. You tsk, yanking the phone off his chest.

"I guess it sucks to be you," you say.

"Get out of my room," Michael grumbles, drifting back to sleep.

You leave, but you don't close the door. Sometimes, being petty is better than a middle finger.

Grandpa strolls into the kitchen wearing a khaki-colored jacket and a loud bowtie. He has a pep in his step and another one of his furry creations tucked under his arm.

"Look at you, Gramps!" you coo. "Lookin' all spiffy. What's the occasion?"

"Can't an old fart like me dress up for fun?" He playfully adjusts his bowtie, and his eyes twinkle with mischief. "Anything in here that might pass for aftershave?"

Sammy hops out of his chair and plucks a bottle off the windowsill. "How about this Windex, Grandpa?"

"Ah!" The old man gratefully accepts the bottle, squirts some in his hands, and pats it on his cheeks. Sam exchanges a knowing look with you. "Thanks."

Unfortunately, Michael chooses this time to come in. (And he's still wearing those stupid sunglasses.) He appraises Grandpa, his mouth twisting cruelly. "Big date, Grandpa?"

Grandpa wiggles his eyebrows, smiling slyly. "Just dropping off some of my handiwork to the 'Widow' Johnson."

He holds up a taxidermy dog. Its beady marble eyes stare into your soul. You repress a shudder. Stuffed animals (the kind that used to be alive) aren't the way to your heart, but if this woman likes it, who are you to judge?

You pat him on the back. "Good for you, Grandpa."

Michael peers over the rim of his sunglasses. "Oh, yeah? What did you stuff for her? Mr. Johnson?"

Grandpa's smile falters, then fades away altogether. He grips the stuffed dog a little tighter. "I'll see you kids later."

As soon as he's out of sight, you smack the back of Michael's head.

"Hey!"

But Sammy's on your side. "That wasn't funny, Michael."

Grandpa honks his horn, and an off-key version of La Cucaracha plays as he peels out of the driveway. Sam resumes his task: dinner duty.

"I'm making you a sandwitch," your little brother grumbles.

"Don't bother."

Michael moves, and you catch sight of something shiny. There's a dangly chain piercing his earlobe, and you know for a fact that it wasn't there last night. You wrinkle your nose. "Lose the earring, Michael, it's not happening."

He crosses his arms. "Piss off."

Sam's eyebrows shoot all the way up. "Wow—you have a great personality, Mike! You should open your own charm school."

Michael starts to go in on Sammy, ready, aching, to deliver his retort when the house shakes. A harsh, howling wind rips through the windows. The curtains flap like frantic bird wings; the ground shakes. Outside, motorcycles roar up the driveway and circle the house. Headlights burn through the windows so bright that it's like sunrise.

You grip the table to keep from falling over. Dishes and cutlery fall from their cabinets and smash into the floor, shattering into hundreds of pieces.

"What the hell is going on?!" You can hardly hear your own voice over the noise.

From outside, you hear their voices, shouting, clamoring over one another, melding into a horrific symphony of Michael, Michael, Michael!

Steadily, the noise grows louder. You know it's impossible, but you swear the motorcycles are climbing the walls.

Michael rushes to the front door, and Sam is hot on his heels.

"Don't open it!" Sam cries.

Michael! Michael! Michael!

Michael throws the front door open, and ... it stops.

Everything stops.

All that remains is a faint breeze rustling through the trees and the dainty jingle of wind chimes.

You grab Sam's hand to ground yourself, and he squeezes back, utterly petrified.

No one is outside.

You exchange a look with Sam. "That was real, right?"

He nods, but he doesn't look sure.

You trust your judgment, and Sammy's for that matter, but as you peer into the night, you can't help but doubt yourself.

Was it a shared hallucination? An earthquake? But what were those voices?

Grimly, you realize there's only one answer, and it wasn't a natural phenomenon. You know who's behind it.

Michael shuts the door and locks it, resting his back against it like he alone could prevent them from coming in.

You clench your jaw and storm up to Michael, poking his chest. "Look—I don't know what kind of game you and your friends are trying to play, but it's not funny."

Michael dares to look offended. "I didn't do this."

"The hell you didn't!" Rage boils your blood, and you see red. "I have had it, Michael. This is the last straw."

You shove past him and throw open the door. The night is calm, but you are not. You've played the passive role for too long. No. Fucking. More.

Those four morons could mess with you all they wanted, but not your family. Not their home.

Your brothers call after you, but it's Sammy who asks, "Where are you going?!"

"Out!"

Your anger leads you to the boardwalk.

People laugh, their conversations overlapping until it's nothing but white noise buzzing in your ears. Overhead, Runaway by Bon Jovi crackles through the boardwalk's sound system, but the music is distorted as if filtered through a tunnel.

You find David and his gang easily, almost like you have a homing beacon guiding you straight to them. You don't overthink it. Really, you don't think about it at all. All you know is that you're past your limit for bullshit, and tonight, you'll make it stop one way or another.

Paul is the first one to notice you. He greets you with a cocky grin. "Hey, baby—"

You punch Paul in his stupid, pretty face. It wasn't hard—and the odds are, he's taken worse—but sheer surprise knocks him off his feet into Dwayne.

You only realize what you did when the pain kicks in.

"Sunova—!" You bite back a scream, cradling your fist against your chest. You wish someone would have warned you: punching hurts.

"What is with you Emerson's and punching without provocation?" muses David.

You glare, filling it with as much hate as you can muster. David isn't affected in the least. In fact, he's amused. He grins like he's watching a newborn puppy learn to snarl. He pushes off the railing and invades your personal space.

"Let me see your hand." David reaches for it, but you step back.

"Don't touch me," you snap.

The boys laugh.

Marko throws his arm over your shoulder and nuzzles your hair. "Baby's got teeth, huh?"

You try to shrug him off, but he hangs on. "Stay away from Michael." They murmur his name like it's a private joke. It makes you angrier. "He's a good guy, and he doesn't deserve to be dragged down by a group of dirty degenerates like you."

David bends at the waist so he's eye-level with you. "Did big brother send you here?"

"No," you say, "I came myself."

"So you can go down on dirty degenerates like us?"

"To get you to fuck off," you sneer.

You shove David back for good measure, but he captures your wrist—your injured hand—without blinking an eye.

Gingerly, he looks it over, paying close attention to your knuckles. His leather gloves are soft and worn. They must be thick, too, because you can't feel his body heat through them.

What the fuck. No, you're not thinking about that.

He grazes his thumb over the hills and valleys of your knuckles; he turns your hand over, coaxing you to spread your fingers.

"It's not broken," David says. "You're lucky."

… Huh?

He manipulates your hand into a fist again. "Next time, don't tuck your thumb under your fingers, or you will break it. See?"

"Stop it," you stammer.

"Stop what?"

"Being—" Nice "—weird!"

David releases your hand, and you bring it back to your chest.

"I think you better apologize to Paul," David continues. "You hurt him real bad, and, well, we don't want him to pout all night, right?"

You glance at Paul, who is indeed pouting theatrically. "Can you kiss it better?" He taps his cheek.

You sneer. "Look—just leave Michael and my family alone. That shit you pulled tonight was not cool, and Mike hasn't been acting like himself since you came along, so I know you're the cause. So, back off, okay?"

David smiles. "Okay."

You pause. Then blink. You wait for the punchline, another witty remark that David has locked and loaded, but it never comes.

"Wait, seriously?"

"Sure." David shrugs, "But you've gotta take his place."

"Excuse me?"

David doesn't repeat himself. He gives you a look similar to the one he gave you over a week ago. Daring you, begging you with those unfathomable blue eyes. Paul leans against your other shoulder.

"C'mon," Paul purs. "Join us."

Marko and Dwayne pile on, chanting with Paul, "Join us. Join us. Join us."

David only stares, his hypnotic gaze locked on yours as the chant grew louder. People are starting to stare.

"You know you want to," David says. "Stop lying to yourself."

Marko giggles, "We promise we'll be good."

From behind, Dwayne mutters, "Extra good."

"Don't leave us hanging, baby," Paul whines.

This isn't what you came here to do. All you wanted was to get them to back off before someone—like Sam or Mom—got hurt.

But that teeny-tiny part of you, the one you've been trying to smother since you arrived in Santa Carla, pipes up. You didn't have to come. You could have let Michael handle this. You could have ignored them instead of walking into the lion's den. You knew, deep down, that this would happen. You wanted it to.

Your rage evaporates with every passing second and is replaced with that familiar fuzzy feeling in your abdomen. They're so close.

They pet you—your arms, your hands, your neck. David is content to watch like he knows they're steadily chipping away at your resolve. Dwayne's hands migrate to your hair, toying with the ends. Cool breath fans over your neck. Leather kisses your exposed skin.

You remember too late that you're not wearing your usual maxiskirts but instead a pair of cut-offs that reveal far more skin than you typically like to show. But ... you don't care. If anything, it makes that fuzzy feeling more intense. You want them to look.

"I..." Your breath catches. You don't know what to say, and even if you did, you don't think you can admit it out loud.

David sees this. He knows you. So, he offers his hand instead. Open. Ready. Accepting. You don't need words with him.

Your fingers twitch. It was only a matter of time before they wore you down and coaxed that yes from you.

Slowly, painfully slow, you place your hand in David's. He curls his fingers over yours, sealing the deal.

The boys erupt into cheers, and that hazy bubble of something bursts like fireworks, an explosion of euphoria. Your skin tingles, and you grin. Dwayne wraps his arms around your middle and spins you around, eliciting a surprised shriek from you.

"C'mon, boys." David tosses his cigarette to the ground and stomps it out. "Let's go."

#the lost boys x reader #david lost boys x reader #marko lost boys x reader #paul lost boys x reader #dwayne lost boys x reader #lost boys x reader

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arenpath · 2 months

Text

ℭ𝔯𝔶 𝔏𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔖𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯; II

{poly!lost boys x fem!reader}

♱ 𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: explicit

♱ 𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: another day in santa carla, and it's already stranger than the first. conflicting feelings surface when you encounter the punks from the boardwalk again, and a challenge ends with you seeking help from the kind man running the video store.

♱ 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: emerson!reader, fem!reader, reader is 18-19 (middle child), reader wears glasses, foul language, sibling dynamics, mentions of divorce, sexual harassment, stuck-up?reader (she's prissy at times), non-consensual touching, teasing

♱ 𝔞/𝔫: So, fun fact - I first wrote this fic prior to realizing I was ace, but I wrote the reader with a lot of my same feelings about sex. So, technically, the reader insert can be read as ace if you squint. Or you can read it like she's an awkward virgin because ... she is. original word count was 4861, new word count is 6050

[1] … [3] … [8] [9]

You tuck a well-loved novel into your makeshift bookshelf, muttering a quiet, "Don't look at me like that, Bowie," to the stuffed snowy owl Grandpa deposited last night.

Bowie didn't reply, but you swear his blue-and-green eyes gleam with judgment.

"If you don't like it, then don't read," you remind him, pushing another racy novel behind his perch.

Is it pathetic to talk to a piece of taxidermy? The jury's out. As of right now, he's your only friend. Somehow, both Sammy and Michael have made connections. Even Mom made one in the two seconds you weren't with her.

Maybe you're doomed to be like Grandpa? A curmudgeonly hermit who loafed around the house in a bathrobe and soggy slippers.

Talking Bowie means you were halfway there.

You turn the owl around with a shudder.

You continue your chores softly humming with the Mamas and the Papas when someone knocks on your door.

Mom ducks her head in, wearing an apologetic look for disturbing the peace.

"—Well, I got down on my knees, (got down on my knees) and I pretended to pray!—"

You turn the sound down on your radio, "Yeah?"

"I wanted to check in with you. I'm heading to the video store—you can join me, if you like?" She shrugs. "You don't have to stay the whole time. Michael and Sam are heading to the beach if you'd rather join them."

You note the lack of choice: it's either/or, not neither.

You could hem haw around—Gee, Mom, that sounds great, but I'm having so much fun unpacking!

Yeah. Not happening. She wants you to go out 'like old times,' but you don't have the heart to explain that 'old times' are meant to stay in the past.

And as much as you would love to cling to your mother's arm, you're not a child, and you want to give her a chance to explore this newfound something she formed with the Video Store Man.

"I'll go to the beach with Mike and Sammy."

Mom smiles, relieved. "That's great, honey. We can meet up at the boardwalk after my shift is over and get something to eat."

"Sure."

She blows a kiss and leaves. You hear her melodic voice float up the stairs as she tells Mike the news. He groans—probably complaining about how his bike can't fit three people—but Mom shuts him down by saying he can drive Grandpa's pickup.

Michael barges into your room minutes later.

"Knock first!"

"Shouldda been born first," he fires back. Mike braces his arm on the door frame with a huff. "Listen—we're leaving in ten. Be ready by then."

"Fine—shut the door!"

He doesn't.

Asshole.

You change clothes, having spent all day in your PJs. You throw on a thin waffle knit sweater that used to belong to Mom and a gauzy skirt. You don't intend to get in the ocean, but pack a few books to pass the time.

When you get downstairs, Sam and Michael are packed and ready, wearing wetsuits and sunglasses.

Sam scrunches his nose when he sees you. "Where's your swimsuit?"

"Not wearing one."

"What? Is it shark week or somethin'?"

You flick him in the middle of his forehead. "No, you dweeb. You'd know if it were."

Sammy shudders.

The drive to the beach is pleasant; plus, Grandpa's radio works. Michael tries to get in on the fight for control, but after getting slapped one too many times, he gives up.

Berlin's Take My Breath Away crackled over the speakers, and Michael groans. "Turn this shit off."

"It doesn't make you think of a certain someone?" Sammy teases.

"Oh, that's right," you say. "You were stalker boy last night, weren't you?"

"Shut up."

Sammy piles on, "It's never gonna happen."

"No, never," I add, "your ugly mug's probably what scared her off."

Michael turns the channel.

When you reach the beach, the sky is a murky orange. The sun'll be setting soon, but according to Mike, this is one of the better times to surf.

The boys do all the heavy lifting, and you lay out a towel; you situate yourself far enough from the water so you won't get wet, but not so far that you're on the hot, loose sand.

You watch idly as your brothers paddle out but quickly lose interest. You crack open a book—one of your favorites—and immerse yourself in the story.

When you look up from your book and notice that the sun is halfway down the horizon and the beach is almost empty; Sam trudges up the sand and throws his board to the ground.

You raise an eyebrow. "Had enough?"

"I'm sick of falling off," he grumbles. He spreads his legs, hogging the towel. "Plus, those terrorists wouldn't leave me and Mikey alone."

Sammy juts his chin toward the ocean, and you follow his gaze. Michael is easy to spot—he's the one surrounded by surfers. One of them comes a little too close to Mike, and he, in an attempt to swerve, falls off his board.

Sam sneers, digging through your beach bag for a snack. "What a waste of space."

You peer over the edge of your book. "He's not gonna give up, is he?"

Sam deadpans. "What do you think?"

Michael clamors onto his board. The 'terrorists,' as Sam so eloquently named them, paddle toward him for another go. You roll your eyes and snatch a handful of Bugles from Sammy's bag. You're in for a long night.

Forty minutes later, the sun is completely gone, and dusk overtakes the sky. You give up reading and instead toss M&Ms into Sam's mouth (which is actually harder to do in the dark than read). Michael jogs out of the ocean, frustrated. A little ways behind him, the surfer group terrorizing him laugh. Your stomach churns and you would've thrown a seashell at them if the wind wasn't whipped into a frenzy.

Instead, you toss Michael a towel, and he dries off. His cheeks are pinkish-red, though you don't know if that's a sunburn or embarrassment.

"Let's get outta here. Mom's probably wondering where we are." He jerks his head to Sam. "Help me pack the boards, will you?"

Sammy whines, "I just wanna go home—can you drop me off, Mike? I promise I won't take too long…"

Mikey grabs the scruff of his neck and drags him to the parking lot.

You take your time packing up and sigh. Hopefully, Mom will be happy. You've done your due diligence and made sure Michael and Sam kept their nose clean. You even got some sun. If that doesn't count as socialization, you don't know what would.

It's only when the group of surfers approach that you wish you'd followed your brothers.

Before you can take a step, a wet, slimy hand smacks your ass. You jerk, stumbling over a mound of sand as you try to distance yourself from the offender.

"Hey!"

"How ya doin', beautiful?"

He's an ugly son of a bitch. You don't need sun light to tell you that. His hair is black with a white stripe, like a skunk's. The surfers close rank around you. They're still soaked from the sea, reeking of saltwater and cigarettes.

You think about running, but you won't make it; the six of them will catch you before you clear the dunes. Your stomach flips.

Ass-grabber snickers at your distress. "Why's a nice girl like you hangin' 'round chumps like that?"

The stench of beer and sweat leaks from his pores.

You level a glare, "They're my brothers."

Ass-grabber shares a look with his lackeys. "Your brothers can't surf for shit. All they know how to do is wipe out."

"Yeah," you say, "you tend to fall when you're crowded like that."

They ooo, and your false bravado takes a hit. A few hushed, nasty comments are thrown your way and you out manuver a pair of wandering hands. They're drunk. Drunk and fixated on you. Might as well, right? You're the only Emerson they haven't antagonized.

"You got a mouth on you," says ass-grabber. He closes the distance between you in one stride, snatching your wrist. He pulls you close; his wetsuit soaks your sweater; his disgusting lips brush the shell of your ear. "I'd like to see what else it can do."

"Get off," you plea.

"'M gonna."

"No, get off!" You shove his chest, and he staggers.

"She's not interested, Greg."

The new voice startles you. You free your wrist and come face to face with a black leather jacket. Then, familiar blue eyes. Your lips part (to say—what? One look and he stole all the words from your mouth.) and you search his face.

It takes you a second to place him—and it comes from a shadow of a memory from the night before. The punks from the boardwalk.

You should be scared, but you're not. You see it in those captivating blue eyes of his, he doesn't want to mess with you. He's here to help. For now, at least, you let your guard down.

Greg glowers at the interruption. "Get off my beach."

The punk rips his gaze from yours with a shit-eating smirk. "Last I heard, the beach was public property, ay boys?"

He exchanges a glance with the rest of the boardwalk punks—one full of mirth and … something else. Something that you can't place, but it makes you uneasy. You take a step back lest you involve yourself in an Outsiders-esque rumble.

Greg gets in the leader's face. "I'll fuckin' kill you, man. Don't test me." You step back again, using the punks as a shield. You've never gotten in a fight before and you won't start now.

Greg's eyes flit between you and the group. And then—the strangest thing happens. He takes one look at the boys, and his eyes widen. The wind howls, but you swear you hear a growl. It's probably a passing car, but it chills you to the bone.

Greg's fear vanishes in a flash, and he scoffs. "You don't deserve my time."

The surfers trickle away one by one until they're just pinpricks on the sand, but the punks stay.

Finally, they face you, and you cradle your bulging tote bag like an iron shield. You're disgusted, you feel violated, and you're tempted to lose your cool on the punks, but their arrival prevented a worse outcome. For that, you're grateful.

Reluctantly, you admit that.

"Thank you." You push your hair back, holding it in place as the wind picks up. "I appreciate your help."

"No problem, baby." The taller blond smiles, capturing his tongue between his teeth.

There it is again. That long, drawn-out bay-bee. You clench your jaw. Maybe you should've run off.

These guys make you uncomfortable, but not like the surfers. No, it's a different sort. A discomfort that you've never felt before. It's all warm and awkward, like fluttering in your stomach.

As if he could sense your apprehension, the leader speaks. "Believe it or not, those guys are bigger assholes than us."

You scoff a laugh and his lips twitch.

He continues, "What are you doing out at this hour? Don't you know there are weirdos around?"

"I'm here with my family." They deign to look around the beach, but it's empty. You blush. "They're packing the car."

"Wasn't smart of them to leave you alone. This isn't exactly a safe place, you know?"

"Yeah," says Curly. "Just last week a bunch of body parts washed up on the shore. They dunno if it was a murder or a shark."

You frown. "You're kidding, right?"

Curly's grin is sharp enough to bite. "Why would we lie about something like that? Do you think we like scaring innocent girls like you for fun?"

"Uh, yeah."

The leader cocks his head, sizing you up. You swear his gaze burns you from the inside out, like hellfire. You resist the urge to shudder.

"You left before we could introduce ourselves," he says, referencing last night. "I'm David. That's Paul—" bay-bee boy "—Marko—" Curly "—and Dwayne." The pretty brunette.

You try not to look interested (because you're not) and nod. "Well, have a nice night."

"You're not gonna tell us yours?" Marko asks.

You start to tell him 'no,' but you get the feeling he won't quit until you admit it, so tell them your first name. "I have to go."

"What? Can't hang, baby?" Paul snickers, ruffling your hair. You smack his hand away.

"It's not that—I have people waiting for me." You glance over the ridge again, praying your idiot brothers haven't left you. "Plus, I doubt I'd be much fun."

Your words elicit a new wave of laughter. Paul slings his arm over Marko's shoulder, "I think we'll be the judge of that."

Your face burns, and you stammer, "That's not what I meant."

God, they're disgusting. You hug yourself, willing your stomach to stop flipping.

"I dunno, Paul, that seems like the only way to take that," says Marko. He pinches your nose. "You're cute when you're flustered."

"I'm not—"

A hand reaches out—too fast for you to identify which boy, but you assume it's one of the terror twins—and snatches your glasses from your face.

You react a second too late. "Hey!"

"Wow—" Paul, you think, "—You're pretty blind. How can you see?"

"I can't, you jerk! That's why I wear glasses!"

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Marko thrusts his hand in your face.

"Give them back!" You lunge at where you thought he was, but he vanishes into thin air.

You stumble into a chest. A pair of hands curl around your biceps. "What's the magic word, baby?"

Paul.

You bite your cheek. You refuse to cry in front of them. "Please?"

"Actually, it's da—oof!" Someone punches him before he can finish.

Paul vanishes from behind you, and you sniffle; you're pissed, you're embarrassed, and you wish that you were standing in quicksand. (Better yet, you wish they were standing in quicksand.)

"Here."

Someone presses your glasses into your hands. You put them on quickly, ignoring the fingerprint smudges on the lenses.

You blink up at your savior—the gorgeous brunette. The one who, until now, hadn't said a single word. Dwayne, maybe?

"Thank you," you whisper, wishing your voice was stronger.

There may be a decent one among them, after all.

He smiles, and your heart stutters. This man could be on the cover of a romance novel, Jesus. You quickly look down, but that was the worst choice because he's shirtless under that leather jacket. You pinch your lips together and look literally anywhere else—there's a seagull, an abandoned kite, some trash...

"Don't tell me Dwayne makes you nervous," says Marko. "He doesn't bite, do you big guy?"

Dwayne shrugs, "Not hard."

Killing you would have been kinder. You’re a pile of goo, your face burns (but you tell yourself it’s from the sun), and if they keep this up you don’t know what will become of you.

"Do you want a ride?" David asks. "Seems like yours ditched you."

Michael. Sam.

Fuck, that's right.

"No, they're just waiting for me," you say again.

On cue, Michael peers over the dunes, shouting your name. "C'mon! What's taking you so long?! Sammy's about to have an aneurysm."

A squeaky "Am not, Mike!" follows.

"Coming!" You burst through the boys but stop halfway up the dunes. "Um, thanks again, I guess."

David tilts his head, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. "The offer still stands."

But you pretend you don't hear him and jog to the waiting truck.

Michael waits for you with a frown, eyeing the boys. "Are you okay?"

You don't want to get into it, so you say, "Let's go."

Mom is anxiously waiting when Michael pulls into the lot. She greets you with a hug and a kiss. "Where's Sam?"

"Home," says Michael. "He's beat."

"Okay." She eyes his bike and squeezes your hand. "How was the ride over?"

You scoff, "At least he didn't crash this time."

Mike takes offense. "That was one time."

You stick your tongue out. One time and one ER visit too many in your book.

"Well, I'm starved." Mom rubs her hands together, smiling. "What do you say we go out to eat? I saw a great little place over there…"

Michael shrugs. "I think I wanna look around for a bit."

"Oh. Well, that's okay."

"I'll meet up with you later," he says, disappearing into the crowd.

"I guess it's just you and me, kiddo. What do you say? You wanna go home and make some pasta?"

"Yeah," you say, but your voice is an octave too high.

Mom sighs, but she's not disappointed. "What do you really want to do?"

Damnit. She's good.

Sheepishly, you tell the truth, "There's a bookshop around the corner, and I'd really like to check it out."

"Aw, sweetie." Mom squeezes your arm, pulling you into another hug. "I want you to have fun. You're not going to hurt my feelings by saying no, I promise."

"Yeah, but…"

"No buts. Go look at books. I think I'll head home. Are you okay riding with Michael again? I know how you feel about…"

She gestures to the bike.

You cringe at the offending metal. "We made it here in one piece. I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Okay, honey. Enjoy yourself, alright? And you have Grandpa's number if you need it?"

"Yeah."

"I won't tell you not to stay out too late because you're a big girl, but be safe."

You smile, "I'll be home before midnight. I promise."

She relaxes ever so slightly, and it warms your heart. It almost makes you change your mind.

She waves goodbye, heading for the Land Rover. You square your shoulders and head back into the masses.

The bookstore is overcrowded tonight.

Well, it's not, but you spot a few unsavory characters (namely Greg and his surfer douches), which makes you rush back to the parking lot. You're not ready for round two.

Luckily, Michael's bike was still there, otherwise you would've been screwed.

You sit on the Death Trap (the name you gave Mike's stupid motorcycle a few years back) until you see Michael heading your way. You almost call out ...

... until you see he's with a girl.

"Shit," you whisper.

Michael's puppy dog grin diminishes when he spots you.

He looks ... different. He's wearing a leather jacket with the tag sticking out of the shirt sleeve. He's even combed his hair back. He looked like an off-brand version of David and his gang.

The girl eyes you warily. Michael rubs the back of his neck, glancing between you and her.

"Um. Star, this is my sister."

You wave. If you were in a better mood, you would have teased him, but after the day you've had, ribbing Michael is the last thing on your mind.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't think you'd have company and Mom ... took off, and I'm... I'm sorry."

You've never felt more shitty in your life. For all the crap you give him, Michael's a decent guy. There's no way he'd choose a random girl over his sister.

But at the same time, you don't want him to make that choice. It's not fair.

"It's fine," he says. "We'll work this out."

Star readjusts her purse, "Maybe we should do this another time."

"Star," Michael starts to say something, but it fizzles out.

Before he can try to salvage the evening, the roar of engines rips through the air. You jerk out of your seat as four stripped-down bikes corner you. Driving the beasts are four familiar faces, so familiar that you almost say, What? Are you guys stalking me?

But you don't because David beats you to the punch.

David raises his eyebrows. A dangerous aura overcame him—an aura that made you feel small and insignificant. "Where ya going, Star?"

Oh.

Apparently, they're not here for you. It ... stings, if you're honest.

She set her jaw. "For a ride. This is Michael."

David's gaze jumps to your brother. He sizes him up and smirks. It's like you're not even there.

He turns back to Star and says, "Let's go."

Star hesitates, and you wonder—why? Clearly, there's something there. Their history is palpable; regardless of whether it's romantic or platonic, you don't care. But the look on Michael's face crushes you.

Subtly, you insert yourself in between her and Michael. The last thing you need is for some girl to string him along.

"Star," David says again, impatience seeping into his lazy drawl.

She makes a face, but David doesn't budge. He stares her down as if daring her to challenge him. Reluctantly, she chooses David, draping her arm languidly over his chest as she climbs on.

You expect David to burn rubber. He's got his girl; he's made his point. Now's the time to peel out and leave the Emersons in the dust.

But he doesn't.

Finally, David looks at you, and that weird feeling returns. You cross your arms, but you can't look away.

David doesn't want you to, though. And even though he speaks to Michael, he doesn't stop staring at you. "Do you know where Hudson's Bluff is, overlooking the point?"

Michael's confidence falters. "I can't beat your bike."

David revs his engine. "You don't have to beat me, Michael. You just have to keep up."

There's a pause, and it breaks the spell David held over you. Michael shifts his attention to you, Star, and the gang. You know your brother—your idiotic, competitive brother. He's considering it. There's one surefire way to get under his skin: challenge him. David, whether he knows this weakness or not, is exploiting it.

But Michael holds back. He nods toward you. "I've got my little sister with me..."

"You can bring her," says Marko. "We don't mind, do we, baby?"

He winks, snickering as Paul whispers in his ear.

"Don't talk about her," Michael snaps.

You hold your hand out, "Mike, don't."

"Yeah, Mikey." Paul grins; you don't like what it does to you.

David says your name, and you instantly react. He gives you the same look he gave Star, goading you, commanding you. It's an invitation as much as it's a demand.

Again, he says, "The offer still stands."

You swallow hard and say, "I shouldn't."

David frowns.

You turn to Michael, keeping your voice soft. "I know you want to go."

Michael grits his teeth. "I'm not going to leave you here."

"I'll be fine."

A beat of silence. He purses his lips. "Are you sure?"

You're not. You're scared shitless at the thought of being left alone on the boardwalk, but you can't tell him that. You won't. You see the way he grips his handlebars. He wants to impress these guys—impress that girl.

Michael is annoying, but he's your brother, and you refuse to hold him back even if he will make stupid choices.

You can't be his voice of reason when he'll tune you out.

So, you say, "I'll figure something out. Maybe that guy from the video store will know something?"

Mike relaxes. "... Fine."

You go to leave, but David catches you. His grip is gentle—barely there. He slips his hand from your wrist to your cheek, forcing you to look at him.

He's touching you.

Your skin tingles.

"Last chance," he says.

No sits on the tip of your tongue. It's the comfortable answer—the only answer—but saying yes is tempting. It dangles from your lips like a snake's hiss, your yes, your acceptance of David and everything he offers.

You can picture it perfectly: climbing onto their bikes, feeling their leather jackets against your skin.

Skin on skin, chests crushed against each other. Hot, deep kisses that leave you breathless.

Hands trailing over your body—up your sweater, down your skirt, around your waist, over your breasts.

Tongues exploring every inch of your skin.

It would be easy to say yes. You ... You want to say yes.

Michael says your name, and you snap back to the present. You blink, rapidly clearing that perverted vision from your mind, your thoughts evaporating like smoke.

You step away from David, letting his hand drop.

"Like I said," you murmur, "I wouldn't be much fun." You turn to Michael, plastering a wholesome grin on your face. "Be safe, Mikey."

"Tell your little sister bye-bye, Mikey," Paul jeers.

Knowing you'll change your mind, you can't make yourself look back. So, you thrust yourself into the crowd and embrace the chaos.

By some miracle, you don't spot Greg or the surfers again when you reach the video store. A rush of cold air kisses your sweat-slick skin when you cross the threshold. Soft music plays overhead, and a handful of customers browse the offerings hung on the wall. It's a brightly colored dreamland, everything neon and glittery, designed to catch your attention.

In the center of the room is a counter, and behind it stands a tall, broad-shouldered man. He passes change to his customer and greets you with a smile.

"Hello, how may I help you?"

"Are you Max?" His eyebrows twitch inward, but he nods, still smiling. You give him your name. "I'm Lucy's daughter."

"Lucy's—of course you are! What can I do for you on this lovely evening? Did she forget something?"

"Yes and no." You readjust your glasses. "My ride bailed and I was looking for a phone to call her. You don't happen to have one, do you?"

"By all means!" He pulls a sleek, rotary phone from beneath the counter. "Have at it."

"Thank you."

You dig through your purse and withdraw a neatly-folded piece of paper with Grandpa's number. Everything's going to be fine, you reassure yourself. You tuck the receiver under your ear and dial. The line rings ... and rings ... and rings.

Nothing.

You try again, consciously aware of Max watching you from the corner of his eye.

The phone rings again. No one picks up.

Shit.

Did you write the number wrong? You don't have a phone book or you'd triple check, but you swear you did that before leaving the house.

"Is everything okay?" Max leans against the counter, concern coloring his face.

Defeated, you hang up and push the phone toward him. "I'm sure it is."

"Did someone pick up?"

"No." You bite your cheek to keep the panic at bay. "No, uh, they didn't. Thank you, anyway. I'll figure something out. Maybe hitch a ride, or ..."

"Have you hitched before?"

You strain to smile. "There's a first time for everything, right?"

Max doesn't smile. "No, I'm afraid I can't let you do that. Santa Carla isn't the wholesome place it used to be and I cannot, in good conscience, have you go out alone. I'll drive you."

Eyes wide, you backpedal, "Oh, no! You can't, you're in the middle of work and I just, I can't."

"Nonsense. Maria!" He motions for the pretty cashier to come closer. "Can you handle the store for a little bit? I have an errand to run. It shouldn't take more than an hour."

"Not a problem."

Max slides out from behind the counter and parrots Maria's words. "See? Not a problem."

"I don't want to get you in any trouble..."

Max chortles. He lays a hand on the small of your back and guides you out of the store. "My dear, I own the place. Although, if it makes you feel better, I'll reprimand myself when I get back."

Max has a nice car. Like, a really nice car. It has air conditioning that actually works and a stereo system that's out of this world. Plus—you can crank the windows up and down without them getting stuck! It's nothing like Mom's car, and everything like your father's back in Phoenix.

But Max isn't anything like your dad, which is probably why Mom loves him.

He makes light conversation in between you giving directions.

"Your necklace is pretty."

"Oh, thank you." You wear it so much that you barely think about it anymore. It's simply a chunk of quartz on a cord. You touch it, feeling its weight in your palm. "It used to be my mom's, but I took it so often she eventually gave it to me."

When you were younger, you used to think it was a magic rock that could grant you wishes. Now, you feel naked if you don’t wear it.

"Do you like crystals?"

"I guess so, yeah. They're pretty."

Max hums, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "What's your favorite?"

"Um, well, I like quartz, but I think my favorite is obsidian."

He nods, "Remind me, which one is that again?"

"It's black. I don't know why, but it's always been my favorite."

"There's a shop on the boardwalk, somewhere around the theater, I think. I never go that way, myself, but I have met the owner during the occasional meeting. She's a nice woman. Has a big selection of crystals, if I'm right. You might like it."

His thoughtfulness strikes a cord with you. You can see why Mom likes him, he's charming.

"I'll have to check it out," you say. "Maybe I'll find my mom something to replace this old thing."

Max chuckles. "That's very generous of you. Most people think of themselves first. You have a giving heart—just like your mother."

"Oh, I don't know about that. She makes it easy."

Max turns the corner, and picks a new thread of conversation. "How do you like Santa Carla so far?"

"It's okay. We used to come out here a lot during the summer, but we haven't in ... almost a decade, I think?"

"It's a wonder we never met until now."

You shrug. "There's a lot of people in Santa Carla."

"That's true." Max turns the dial. A new radio station sifts through his speakers, and though it's not a genre you like, you don't mind. It's not like you're listening anyway.

To fill the void, you keep talking. "My dad never liked it here. He always cut our visits short. I can't remember even coming to the boardwalk back then."

"And your father, he's ...?"

"Back in Phoenix," you say. "They're divorced."

"I see." He keeps his tone light, but you can tell he's secretly glad to hear that. "It must be tough for you. You've uprooted your entire life."

"I’d do it again if it helped Mom, but if I’m honest? I feel like an outcast here. Everything is so different."

"Do you not like different?"

"It's not that I don't like it, I'm just not used to it." You laugh at yourself, adding, "I'm not the adventurous type. Mike and Sammy, they're outgoing, but I'm ... not. I tried, but it's not for me. I'm a homebody."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

"You'd be the first to think it."

Maybe that's not fair to Mom, but it's true. She doesn't get it. You know she means well when she sends you out with your brothers, and you'll suffer through if it makes her happy, but you'd rather be at home. Even now, you're kicking yourself for not going with her.

Max glances at you. "Home is where the heart is, as they say."

"The heart is Mom," you say, not-so-subtly implying that Santa Carla isn't home. "I'm just ... there."

"A home needs a heart, a mother; that much is true. But a home also needs a solid foundation, something to hold it steady, something that makes sure it doesn't sink or shift. Now, some people might say that's the father's role, but not always. You strike me as that kind of person."

You're thankful it's dark because you fluster when he speaks. "That's kind of you to say."

"It's just an observation from an old man."

You snort. Max isn't old. "I guess I'm an exception to the middle kid stereotype—you know, how they're supposed to be wild and all that." You tried to be that a long time ago. You were that way, but ... "Mom's always needed a friend, especially this last year with everything. She does her best, but sometimes she needs help. I don't mind doing that."

Max softens, fondly glancing your way. "I wish my boys had someone like you around. Maybe you could knock some sense into them."

"You have sons?"

"Oh, yes. They are," Max whistles, "they're a handful, that bunch. I try. I've given them everything, but they're reckless. As untamed as wild horses."

"I'm sure you do fine."

"They would disagree with you," he laughs. "What they need is something they've never had: a mother. Now, I can give them discipline, but they need that-that heart. Or, a foundation, for that matter." He winks at you conspiratorially. "I hope they get that one day before it's too late."

You smile awkwardly, but words evade you. The conversation took a strange turn.

Max pulls up to your house. The totem poles tower over his sleek car like grim sentinels welcoming you back to the pit. But, Max doesn't unlock the car.

"Look, I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but I have to ask," Max says. "I like your mother very much. She's ... She's unlike any woman I've ever met. I know I haven't known her long, and I understand you all are going through a difficult transition ..."

You gently cut his ramblings short. "She likes you, too, Max."

"Really?" You nod. Max exhales, running his hands through his perfectly coiffed hair. "Then ... you wouldn't mind if I ask her on a date?"

"You seem like a great guy. I think she would love that. But it's up to her to say yes," you remind him.

"Of course! Thank you—your consent means more to me than you know."

He unlocks the car and you hop out. "Thanks again for this."

"Any time. Have a good night, my dear!"

You wave goodbye and head inside.

Everyone's asleep by now. The house is dark, save for a lone lamp Mom must have left on for your arrival. You wander into the living room and snatch the phone off the wall. But, instead of the dial tone, you're met with silence.

Damnit, Grandpa. What's the point of having a phone if it doesn't work? If you hadn't found Max, you would have been in serious shit tonight.

You don't remember until later that you stopped giving Max directions at some point.

That night, you dream of David, Dwayne, Paul, and Marko. They flight through your window one by one wearing jackets made of animal fur and leaves and dance on the ceiling.

"Can I come with you?" You watch them with awe, wishing you could fly, too. "Please?"

David extended his hand. "All you had to do was ask."

They lift you out of bed and you soar through the sky. You're not afraid, not as you touch the stars or do loops around the boardwalk rollercoaster. You find comfort in their company. They give you freedom when you hold their hands.

"Where are we going?" you ask.

"Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning," Marko jokes.

They take you to their hideout in the trees and lay you on a bed of moss. They stroke your nude body. You can't remember losing your clothes, but it's okay. You like it when they touch you. It feels different. It feels good.

Hands turn into mouths; tongues lick your flesh, mouths suck your nipples, your neck, and lower. Much, much lower.

"Join us, wendy-bird." Their voices warp, whispering, overlapping over one another. "Be our lost girl."

Be ours.

The pleasure intensifies. Your surrounding blur, but you see their faces with perfect clarity. They're beautiful. You want to tell them this. Why haven't you?

Be ours.

They laugh. They moan. They take turns lavishing you with their attention until you're drunk on them.

The dream ends the moment one of them tries to penetrate you. It was so vivid, so real, that when you wake the next morning you're ... disappointed?

Yeah, disappointed. Not that you'll admit it outside of this drowsy state, warm, yet, alone in your bed. You're disappointed in yourself, and disappointed in your imagination, but most of all, you're disappointed that you didn't tell David yes.

#the lost boys x reader #the lost boys #tlb x reader

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arenpath · 2 months

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Political memes let's go

#the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #tlb 1987 #the lost boys 1987 #david tlb #paul tlb #dwayne tlb #marko tlb #paul the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #david the lost boys #the lost boys marko #my memes #memes

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arenpath · 3 months

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The Sharing Series: Paul/Marko

Word Count: 274

Warnings: 18+, NSFW mentions, Dirty talk, no actual sex scenes. I block on sight. Teasing. Wholesome at the end. Headcanons.

A/N: I may make this a new series >:))

════ ⋆★⋆ ════════ ⋆★⋆ ════════ ⋆★⋆ ════

♡ these two boys are almost TOO comfortable with sharing you.

♡ The moment the topic is even breathed, these two are on your like butter on toast.

♡ They don't even have to talk, they were just so in time with each other, it was making you dizzy.

♡ hands, fingers, tongues, fangs. It was almost too much for little ol you

♡ “Marko, look how sweet our pup is for us.” “I see Paul. They already look fucked out and we've barely even touched them.”

♡ public sex? Yes please. The boardwalk, the Farris Wheel, under the boardwalk, the beach. Anywhere they can get their horny little mitts on you, they're doing it.

♡ They also have absolutely no shame when it comes to sex around the other boys. Let them look, only Paul and Marko can touch their prize.

♡ I hope you like being dependent, because these two wont let you lift a finger.

♡ anything from dressing, to baths, even eating on a rare occasion, they handle it. You are their pretty little doll, and dolls don't do anything.

♡ Aftercare is PHENOMENAL with them. Baths, food, candy, back rubs. They pull every single stop, though its sadly not enough to rid yourself of the limp you'll be sporting in the evening.

♡ if they are dating you, they dont hang from the rafters. Instead they sleep in your next during the day, legs tangled around each other, blankets a mess.

♡ Paul sleep with curlers in his hair and Marko hogs the blanket.

♡ 9/10 for a poly relationship! Super dorky surfer boyfriends!

#x reader #the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #tlb

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arenpath · 3 months

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V - NSFW Alphabet

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Cw: smut, sexual objectification, restraints, toys, and other things that come with the NSFW alphabet. A/n: The NSFW alphabet for V has arrived woooo! I had a blast writing these. To me, V isn't your typical sex god that we tend to see a lot in erotic writings. It was very refreshing and a treat for me to write about a character that doesn't exactly fit into the whole "plows you into the mattress for 5 hours" trope.

V - SFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

V is quite cuddly after sex and he is attentive with his aftercare. He will bring you whatever you need without complaint, whether it be a glass of water, a snack, some more blankets, or a towel to clean up. That man is at your beck and call.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

V's favorite body part on both you and him is your hands. For him, he likes his hands because they can be used to bring you pleasure--to caress you gently or to plunge into your swollen and slippery pussy, angling his lithe and talented fingers just right to bring you orgasm after orgasm. As for you, V loves your hands because of you use them for such beautiful things. To sign language, create art, and hold him. But V's absolute favorite thing about your hands is how they claw into his back whenever he's inside you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Loves the sight of his cum decorating your skin. While V loves to come inside you, he also cannot deny that rush of pleasure that courses through him when he sees his cum dripping down your folds, painting your stomach and thighs, glistening on your flushed cheeks and pouty lips.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Oh to be tied up and at your mercy. The desire of being roped and gagged by you, laid down on the bed and at your utter mercy as he encourages you with his gaze to straddle his hips and use his cock to your hearts content. V has a bit of a fetish for being used by you. He wants you to take your pleasure from him, to use his body to make yourself feel good, while he sits back and watches.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

V is not very experienced when it comes to sex. But his eagerness to please you more than makes up for it. He's receptive to your guidance and a quick learner. It's actually crazy how fast he learned and mapped the sensitive parts of your body. How to quickly he figured out how to make you writhe and arch and cry out his name as you squirt all over the bedsheets.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary. V's a romantic, and he loves looking in your eyes whenever the two of you are making love. Being able to also feel your arms wrapping around him and pulling him closer as he sinks his cock all the way inside you? Heaven.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

As I mentioned in the SFW alphabet, V has a bit of a dorky sense of humor. It wouldn't surprise me if he threw in a little joke or a teasing remark in during sex. V loves not only the sound of your moans and cries, but also the beautiful sound of your laughter.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

V maintains himself down there, although he doesn't have a lot of hair to begin with so he doesn't need to shave. Just a slight trim to keep things neat and he's good to go.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

This man is a hopeless romantic. Oh boy, let me count the ways in which this man shows his affections for you during the act. Spoiling you from head to toe with adoring kisses, fingers painting the shape of your body as they worship each groove, curve, and imperfection--the whisper quiet praise that falls from his lips. To V you are the most precious thing in his life, and he needs you to understand that fact to the very depths of your soul.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

V's not really in the habit of jacking off. He much prefers to come to you whenever he's in the mood. However, that being said, should you and V be separated for a time he does get pent up, and he has to find a little private moment to himself. He's usually quick about it, fisting his dick in a tight grip, groaning as he imagines you bouncing on it--your tight pussy milking him so sweetly as you come.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Like I mentioned before, V's got a bit of a sexual objectification kink. He loves you and trusts you and wants you to use his body to satisfy your own desires. Whether that be his cock, his fingers, or his face, V is sooo ready to give you free reign. Outside of the sexual objectification kink though, V also has a bit of a hand kink. Even the most fleeting of thoughts of your pretty little fingers wrapping around his cock makes his breath draw short.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

V prefers privacy so that he can more leisurely make love to you. He wants to savour you, and quickies in an alley or in the DMC van (while enjoyable) isn't his preferred way to have you. V would much prefer to have you naked, spread and waiting for him in the comfort of your shared bed.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

The sight of your naked body is the quickest and more sure fire way to turn V on. But you can also get V going with a sultry glance, a suggestive smile, gliding your hand along the expanse of his tattooed skin.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

V is not interested in bringing you pain. While he realizes that for some, pain can be just as intoxicating and welcomes as pleasure, he cannot bear the thought of hurting you. To V, your body is a temple for his reverence and worship--never to be marred by a violent or cruel hand.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

V is undoubtedly a giver. That man could spend hours between your thighs, dining on the sweetness of your arousal if you let him. When it comes to skill, V wasn't particularly skilled at going down on you at first. But with a little gentle instruction, V now makes your legs tremble and give out with only a few swipes of his talented tongue.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual for the most part. V can go faster and treat you a little roughly if you would like, but he much prefers to slowly have you come apart his arms. Turning you to putty in his hands as he slowly and masterfully guides you towards that exquisite release.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not the biggest fan of quickies, but you won't ever see V saying "no" at any opportunity to feel your sweet and tender skin against his own. To bask in how your body arches and then softens against his own.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

V is open minded, and he does like to explore with you in the bedroom. He's always interested in trying different positions or indulge you with different kinks and scenarios. When it comes to risks, V isn't that interested in semi-public or public sex or with being caught. He feels that your intimate moments between the two of you should stay private.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

V's stamina is below average I would say. He's usually spent after one round. Given how his body loses its strength more and more with each passing day, it's really no surprise. But you are unbothered by it and V's lack of stamina certainly doesn't stop him from letting you leave the bed unsatisfied. Just because V's too exhausted for one more round, doesn't mean he can't make you come in other ways. On his fingers, using his mouth, or even toys. Speaking of which...

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

V loves to use toys on you. He's always eager to learn about new ways that he can make you come. Bullet vibes, anal plugs, and dildos are some of his favorite toys to pleasure you with. V's favorite though? Using multiple on you at once while also satisfying you with his cock. A plug lovingly nestled in your ass, coupled with a vibe massaging your clit and this throbbing length stuffing your pussy full? Nevermind that V isn't one for multiple rounds, you'll be exhausted after just one.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

V is certainly a tease, but he's not one to leave you hanging. He's more of a flirtatious tease when it comes to foreplay and the build up to sex. Once he's inside you though, it's becomes all about making you feel good however quickly or slowly you want.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's relatively quiet, but V makes the sweetest and most adorable little sounds whenever he's feeling good. The airy moans and soft sighs that tumble from his lips are like music to your ears, and you're always thirsty for more. V's a little embarrassed about the sounds that he makes though, so it's really only in the throes of passion that you hear them the most.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

V's quite sensitive and sometimes he has a habit of coming a little too early (especially if it's been a while since the two of you have made love). The two of you usually just laugh it off though, teasing one another with light hearted quips as V works his fingers into you to finish the job.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

V's dick is average sized, and it's one of the prettiest dicks you've ever seen. A soft pink head, coupled with his smooth shaft and an adorable little mole that decorates the underside of it. V is certainly pleasant to look at and play with.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive ranges from standard to low depending on how his body is holding up. While V enjoys sex greatly, to him it's one of the many ways in which he can show his affection towards you. Cuddling with you under the covers, opening his heart up to you with hushed whispers in the dead of night--all of these are ways in which V reveals his yearning for you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

V doesn't tend to fall asleep right away after sex. Usually you're the first one that slumber takes, leaving V a quiet opportunity to trace your body with his hands. Admiring the work of art that is you.

nsfw alphabet template

#dmc 5 #v dmc5 #dmc v x reader #v x reader #dmc v x you #devil may cry

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arenpath · 3 months

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What a comeback

I was so excited to learn your requests are open!! I don't know about you but I'd love a lost boys piece where they play a fun game of hide and seek (the kind where they get to play hunter and get a very sensual reward if they find their victim/lover). I hope this is good for you! If you would rather just pick one boy to focus on, then it's your choice who you want 😊

In The Dark

Pairing: David x G/N!Reader

TW: Predator/Prey Dynamic, Hints of intercourse, few curse words, slightly 18+

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: This was a wonderful request and im so sorry it took so long to finish and there wasn't much smutty goodness. I hope you enjoy reading, regardless! ❤️

“I don’t do games, Doll.”

For once, David wasn’t paying much attention to you; instead, he was searching for his misplaced lighter while you were grinning sweetly over his seated form. He swears he put the damn thing in his pocket; now where the hell did it go?

"But I think you'll enjoy this one." You shot back, observing his predicament and taking out an extra lighter and offering it to him. David was prone to misplacing his cigarette lighters. You were usually carrying extra after he misplaced one so many times and became irritable as a result.

David turned towards you, seeing the pretty smile on your face and holding out another lighter for him. He smirked before taking the offered lighter, his gloved fingertips brushing against your own, leaving your skin tingling. “Thanks, babe.” He said, putting his cigarette in his mouth and flicking the lighter.

As he did, you automatically cupped your hands around the lighter to stop any breeze that would prevent the flame from starting. You had a little pout on your face, feeling like he was ignoring you to end the conversation. David gently pulled your hands back a little with his finger after noticing that they were too close to the oncoming flame. He didn't want to take the chance of burning you by mistake, as he did once before.

When he had lit the cigarette, he reclined in his wheelchair without tearing his eyes away from you, taking a small drag. He observed the small frown on your face, your eyes averting from his own. Even though he would never admit it, he disliked seeing you unhappy, especially when it was because of him. He sighed and released smoke from his mouth after giving it some thought.

“Alright, come here.” He muttered, giving you a two-fingered gesture and widening his legs in invitation.

Hearing his words, you turned to face him, that charming smile coming back as you approached him. You proceeded to situate yourself sideways on his lap, perched on his knee, with your arms wrapped around his neck. David placed one arm around your waist to restrain you against him, his other hand holding the cigarette rested on your thigh, and the small stick turned away so that it wouldn't hurt you.

“What game are we playing?” He questioned, his hand holding your waist and trailing up and down your side. Without looking away, he took another inhale of his cigarette before putting it down once more.

Your heart was racing in your chest, and you were filled with excitement and anticipation. You bent down to whisper in his ear as your hand extended to rub his stubble, and your nails teased his skin. Though you weren't generally this teasing to anyone, however, your lover wasn't just anyone and possessed the ability to bring out your adventurous side.

Whispering sensually in his sensitive ear, you were unable to notice the way your mate’s eyes flashed a menacing yellow and a wicked smile appeared on his face. But the way his grasp tightened around your waist was unmistakable. His gaze followed the fingers caressing his cheek before he turned his head to press a possessive kiss on the sensitive skin of your wrist, his fangs grazing your pulse.

“And my reward?” He growled, his eyes reverting to normal as he took another puff on his cigarette to calm himself down, turning back to face you. His hand, placed on your side, squeezed you once more, his resolve crumbling.

“You’re looking at it.” You replied with a mischievous smirk.

As you dashed through the thick underbrush of the forest, the moon served as your sole source of illumination and complete dread. Shadows loomed large, threatening to swallow you, as the moon's beams shined through the dense tree trunks. Your lungs were straining to take in much-needed oxygen, and your heart was pounding rapidly inside your heaving chest. You didn't want to slow down, even though your whole body ached for a moment to recuperate.

After all, you wanted to give him a good chase.

Before the game began, David was nice enough to give you a head start. At the time, his back was turned towards you, with his hands shoved inside his pockets. The ease with which he held himself should have been apparent from his posture. But being his mate, you knew otherwise. His eyes possessed a feral gleam in them, and the strain in his shoulders suggested that his control was gradually slipping away. As soon as he turned his back on you, you took advantage of his mercy and hurried into the trees, never turning back.

You've been running for an extended period of time, and if you kept going, your lungs were bound to burst. It seems strange that you haven't heard or seen any signs of David. Perhaps he hasn't searched for you yet? You hesitated, stopping briefly to give yourself a chance to gather your thoughts and catch your breath.

You peered through the trees, attempting to acclimate yourself to the surrounding darkness. Small birds were moving about their daily lives, and the sounds of insects buzzing filled the woods. The most frightening predator on the planet, David, was someone you knew you would never hear approaching, and you needed to be cautious. A sinking feeling grew in the pit of your stomach, as if David could suddenly emerge from the shadows.

Your hand was lying on your chest to regulate your heartbeat as you fought to regain your breath. With every exhale, small clouds passed through your lips from the frigid weather. You closed your eyes, attempting to think of a different plan of action. At this point, you were too preoccupied to notice that the only sounds in the area were your own breathing.

Your breathing gradually calmed down, and you opened your eyes and looked around the woods once again. But your stomach began to twist into knots as the sinking sensation increased. The glowing golden eyes within the darkness were peering straight through you and chills traveled down your spine.

“I see you…” He whispered menacingly, his chest rumbling in the form of a growl.

You began to sprint in the opposite direction without thought, an intuitive urge for survival taking over every fiber of your being. When it came to him, there were no limitations or holding back; therefore, you should have known better than to tease him. The realization that you wouldn't make it through the night exhilarated you.

His deep chuckle reverberated across the forest, resonating with the trees. Everything within you shuddered, causing you to glance behind you as you tried to maintain distance. You nearly passed out from the horror of what you witnessed above you. David was soaring through the treetops, a manic grin on his newly-transformed face as he peered down at you.

Without warning, he dove down towards you, his arms outstretched in an attempt to snatch you. His fangs were gleaming underneath the moonlight, threatening to sink themselves into your delicate skin.

You managed to sidestep his strike somehow, almost falling to the ground as you hurried away in an alternate direction. His enraged hissing pierced your ears as he continued to pursue you. However, you knew he could snatch you at any given moment, waiting for the perfect opportunity. He enjoyed the scared look in your pretty eyes and your blood pumping from adrenaline.

Game’s over.

His loud hissing stopped instantaneously, and all that could be heard were your scurrying footsteps. You were too afraid to stop running, thinking that David was trying to trick you. However, the burning sensation in your lungs forced you to stop.

Your gaze scanned the area around you as the sinking sensation in your stomach intensified once more. You backed away until you bumped into the trunk of a nearby tree, resting your hand on your chest.

“D-David?” You whispered.

Just as you were whispering his name, there was a thump from above, sending shivers down your spine, coming from the tree. Your breaths became unstable, your hands trembling as you cocked your head back towards the sound, filled with horror and absolute excitement.

David was perched on the branch above you, crouching with his forearms resting on his knees. His glowing eyes were gleaming with mischief. He was leaning towards you, his supernatural abilities allowing him to stay perfectly balanced, similar to a vulture staring down at their meal.

“Where you goin’?” He purred in a condescending tone, flashing his sharp fangs that glimmered underneath the moonlight.

You were trying to flee again before you had a chance to think things through, and then you were thrown to the ground. Sprawled down over the ground, you weren't even able to get up when a gloved hand clutched at the back of your neck, rendering you immobile.

David chuckled darkly, his knees caging you underneath him as he leaned down towards your ear. “I win.” He growled, the tips of his fangs grazing the shell of your ear.

The sensation made your whole body tremble, and his weight pinning you down made your cheeks flush with arousal. Everything felt primal, being underneath your mate as he held you down in the dirt with his fangs aching to sink into you.

“Mm, you did.” You whispered, a smirk appearing on your face as your mate proceeded to press heated kisses against your jawline, trailing down towards the junction between your neck and shoulder. “And your reward?”

“You know what I want.” He snarled into your delicate neck.

Without another word, his gloved hands gripped your hips, roughly pulling you into arching your back for him.

Over the course of the night, your lover of the night growled with delight in response to your delicious cries. One thing was certain: you needed to feed into his sadistic pleasures more often.

Taglist: Comment to be added!!

@prettywhenibleed @britany1997 @leiasolo77 @slaasherslut @rottent33th@ghoulgeousimmaculate @misslavenderlady @luv4fandoms @crustyboypix @arianamhm @blenna3967 @bloodywickedvamp @swagfancroissantpizza2 @sad-ghost-of-garbage @rynsfandomsfun @kirishimasfiance @arenpath @jezabella8

#the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys

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