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hypocriticalspicewrites · 9 days

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Still one of my favorite Paul fics EVER!!! 😫

FEEDING TIME.

buwan’s notes: oh my god I’m actually so scared to write about this AHAHA, like this is so scary to write bc some people might think it’s weird 😭 happy late Mother’s Day??….

episode summary: when Paul catches a glance at you breast-feeding, he can’t help but feel curious.

taglist: @britany1997

content warnings: NSFW. minors pls don’t interact. Lactation kink, sub-leaning switch!paul. (Would this count at PWP?). AFAB-bodied reader.

[paul x fem!reader.]

“Paul, what are you staring at?” You locked eyes with your blonde boyfriend as he shot you a strange look. his gaze was stuck on you, or rather.. your breasts.

you continued to feed your baby bat, sore and not up for any bullshit Paul might be planning in his head. Paul continued to ignore your question, still staring. If he stared any harder he’d have burned holes in your chest.

Paul’s gaze gently went over your chest’s features, a silk blanket covered the other side of your chests. Your baby was smooshed up to your boobs for easier access to your milk.

His eyes glanced up at your tired expression, obviously a little uncomfortable at the feeling of a baby on your nipples, and maybe the soreness of carrying so much milk and not knowing where to put it.

your baby had your nipple in her mouth as she had her fill of nutrients. Paul watched with intensity, his eyebrows furrowing.

You looked at Paul a bit more before shaking your head, as if to say that you’d rather not deal with his shenanigans.

It was obvious the blonde was curious and confused, was it that good? He just could feel his finger twitch anxiously as your baby finished feeding, her pouty lips falling off from your breasts as she dozed off in your arms.

You coo softly, pulling your nightgown over your breasts before slowly standing up from the bed to put your baby bat in her nursery.

Unfortunately, that meant that Paul would be left to his own thoughts.

Your feet ached as you walked to and from the nursery, holding your sore back as slouching from your breasts. You let out an uncomfortable sigh as you tried relieve some soreness by gently massaging the sensitive areas of your under-boob.

Paul was still at his original spot, it seemed like he hadn’t moved an inch from where you last saw him.

you finally had your break for the night, happily sitting back on you and your boys’ bed. Though, they rarely slept in it, more so using it for more…explicit deeds.

“Gonna tell me what’s on your mind, pretty boy? I’m not a vampire yet, you know.” You looked off at Paul, carefully bringing your swollen feet up on the bed as you awaited his reply.

“nothin’..” Paul shrugged, finally breaking his gaze from your seat to look down at his fingers, chipping at his black nail polish.

You sighed, leaning your head back against the headboard. Your gaze looked around, the silence of the room making you feel uncomfortable.

“Alright, tell me, you’ve got me curious.”

Paul bit the inside of his cheek before walking up to you, sitting by the edge of the bed. “Don’t think I’m weird, babe, but I really want to try your milk..” A silence leaves the both of you, the cave felt cold and you had stopped massaging your sore chest.

“You want to what?” You shot him a confused look, wanting him to clarify what he had asked. “You know, your tits..you always say they’re sore from carrying..” Paul sat closer to you, obviously trying to convince you to let him drink from your breasts.

“Paulie, why do you wanna do that?” You were surprised at his suggestion, feeling his weight move next to you, Paul gently wrapped his arms around your stomach.

“You’re always saying how you’re sore and it always feels heavy, wanna see if I can help you..” Paul looked up at you with his pretty blues, looking like a little puppy asking for a treat.

You couldn’t help but feel your heart melt at Paul’s pretty pout, looking up at you with such gusto. “I guess..I can let you, since you’re asking so nicely.” Paul seemed to perk up at your words, looking at you with a bright smile.

You let Paul position you the way he wanted, his hands lifted you onto his lap. You squirmed in his arms, trying to get comfortable.

You felt Paul’s hands place themselves on your thighs before they moved up, slipping under your nightgown.

“Calm down, Paulie. I’m not going anywhere.” You whispered, caressing his cheek with your palm, your lips meeting his for a quick second before pulling away, your heart palpitating in your chest.

Paul grinned excitedly, as you wrapped your arms around his neck, his hands happily explored under your nightgown. The pads of his fingers gently tapped against your waist, then again in the middle of your chest.

Paul felt himself get shivers up his spine from hearing your fastened heartbeat, he knew he was touching the right places to rile your pretty self up.

You let out a few soft sighs as Paul’s cold hands felt amazing to your sore breasts. You felt his hand finally cup your breasts and swipe his thumb over your nipple, making you flutter your eyes closed at the relaxing feeling.

Paul closed his eyes for a minute just to feel in your presence, he was amazed at how gorgeous you were.

His eyes looked up at you with adoration for his girlfriend, his smile widening by the second. “Can’t wait to have you in my mouth, mamas..” he quietly mumbled, his hands leaving your hot body for a little while.

You seemed annoyed at the lack of contact, watching Paul impatiently as he pulled off his leather jacket, the various jewelry and chains clinking against each other.

“Hurry up..” you mumbled, getting antsier by the minute. Paul chuckled, looking at you with a smug grin. “And here I thought I was the needy one..” He mused, his fingertips pinching the silk nightgown you wore.

You rolled your eyes before starting to move off his lap, done with Paul’s teasing. “Babe, no! M’sorry! I’ll be good.” Paul instantly turned to begging you, feeling your weight slowly leave his lap.

“Won’t joke around n‘more..” his lidded eyes looked up at you with a pout, upset at you for even moving a few inches off his lap.

You smirked, returning Paul’s smug grin. “That’s what I thought, now pull this off me, pretty boy.” You cooed, raising your arms up for easier removal of your nightgown.

You stopped moving as Paul hastily pulled at the garment, going over your head and onto the floor, your breasts were in full display and Paul couldn’t help but feel his loins stir.

“Fuck babe, I forgot you had such gorgeous girls.” He snickered, his hands instantly cupping both of your tits into his rough hands, his hands felt cold and soothed your soreness immensely, making you moan softly in content.

Paul could feel his mouth salivating at just seeing your breasts in his hands. If he wasn’t a vampire, he’d cower in his bashfulness at the fact that he was basically drooling over your tits.

His hands gently massaged them, almost juggling the two mounds in a pattern. A hum left your lips, letting Paul take his time with your tits.

Paul was enamoured with the two weights in his hands as you felt so warm to him, a perfect match. Hot to Cold, body to body. He continued to massage your breasts, watching your eyelashes flutter and your eyes close in pure relief.

His face happily digged itself into your neck, placing soft kisses from your collarbone and made a path up behind your ear. His lips retreated back to the nook in your neck, licking a long stripe before his fangs gently grazed the skin, making a scratch at most.

Paul felt his eyes close in pure ecstasy in smelling his girlfriend’s sweet blood, his body seemed to twitch excited, so excited that he accidentally squeezed your breasts.

He wasn’t guilty about it though, because suddenly, a liquid ran down his hands, sticky and white. “Mamas…you’re dripping..” He joked, one of his hands leaving your breast as you looked off in embarrassment, Paul’s long tongue made an appearance as he lifted his wet arm up to his lips.

You hit him in the thigh, scoffing at his joke before you realized what he was doing.

His long tongue followed the droplets of milk that made paths on his arm, the sweet nectar spreading across his taste buds as he sucked every last bit of it from his arms.

Your lips opened to say something but nothing seemed to come out, feeling your throat dry at Paul’s dirty display.

You watched with a heated face as Paul hungrily licked every evidence of the liquid on his arms before he growled, looking at you with a hungry look.

Paul pulled your face to meet his, his thick hands gripping the back of your head with needy strength. his teeth clashed with yours as you tasted the bittersweet flavour from his tongue.

you decided to give him some relief, slowly grinding down on his lap, feeling his clothed cock harden under you. His groaned into the kiss, a growl resounding once again.

“Oh baby, now I need to get a taste..” He grunted, his lips latching onto your nipples in record speed as you gasped at the sudden contact.

You jumped from his cold lips making contact with your breasts, your grip tightening around his neck as Paul felt his eyes flutter at feeling you in his mouth.

His tongue flicked over your buds, as a reaction your legs unwillingly squeezed his lap squealing at the cold temperature Paul’s mouth emitted. Your arms made quick work to wrap themselves around his neck, his arms doing the same to your waist.

You couldn’t hold your moans as you felt your milk being sucked out by Paul, unwilling to stop, his lips continued to latch onto your nipples, making the area around it red as his grip seemed to tighten around your waist.

His free hand continued to massage the breast he didn’t suck on, your breastmilk dripping down his arms. You should’ve known this would happen, Paul loved to play with his food, and he was a messy eater.

Paul happily enjoyed the fact that you filled his mouth so, gulping with unstoppable thirst. His hips started to buck, gaining pleasure from drinking you dry in other ways, he’d never thought he’d get to drain you besides your blood.

“Baby, you’ve got me going crazy,” Paul detached from your tits to look up at you once again, his eyes glimmering with want and lust after you, his gorgeous girl.

“I wanna drink from your pretty tits every time I get thirsty, over and over again..” Paul mumbled against your skin, his lips grazing over your chest, obviously enamoured by the way you taste, god he’d never tasted something so delicious before. It’s as if his young vampire years had reawakened, the need to drink strong.

“Paul…careful..” you warned your blonde boyfriend, feeling his fangs against your chest, almost scratching and making a mark on you. “Sorry.. you just taste so good..” he whined, digging his head into the middle of your chest, enjoying the warmth your tits generated.

Paul kissed up your cleavage, he couldn’t help himself with sucking hickeys in the middle of your tits, hoping that one of the other boys gets a go at you so that they could see his artwork on your body.

His thick hands moved to your thighs, his cold palms being heated by your thick thighs. Paul continued to make his marks, his sharp fangs giving you a sense of rush as it felt cold to the touch.

His fingers tapped against your thick mounds before the moved towards your inner thigh, his thumb swiping rhythmic patterns to calm you down as he inches towards your cunt.

Being a vampire has its pros, one of them being a good sense of smell. Paul could smell your sweet pussy from under your shorts and your underwear, he could feel himself almost cum from just smelling you.

“Paul—..” you called out for him, knowing he could smell your arousal from this proximity, you held your breath, waiting for him to make a move.

He growled at your call, only opting to push his finger into your shorts, making a small ripple. His long fingernails managed to make a hole big enough for his fingers to come through, ripping it slowly.

His display of pure carnal thirst made you even wetter than before, your hormones were everywhere even though it had been a few months since your baby was born. A desperate, breathy whine left your lips, almost begging Paul to do something.

Your blonde boyfriend moved too slow for your liking, you were in your ripped shorts, only your panties shielded your pussy from the monster who held you in his grasps.

One of his hands wrapped around your waist as he pulled you close to his face once again, his lips stationed instantly on one of your buds, returning to drinking the sweet liquid that left your breasts.

His fingers moved with precision, hooking them into your underwear with little to no trouble. Paul didn’t bother to give your clothes any mercy as he only ripped your panties off in a few seconds.

A jump leaves your body, both at Paul’s tongue and the sudden bareness you felt down under. Your eyes were lidded, unable to get a grip on reality as the buzzing feeling in your stomach grew at the sight of Paul enjoying his meal.

You could see the glint of yellow in Paul’s irises, his vampiric side starting to show. The blonde slowly caressed your inner thighs, your warmth enjoyed by Paul.

He continued to drink from your breasts, his mouth filled up fast with your milk and he had to be gulping every few seconds to keep up with how fast the sweet liquid came out.

Paul looked up at you, his eyes locking onto yours. You were met with the pretty sight of Paul’s messy display. Milk dribbled from the sides of his lips, making streams down his jaw. His free arm had been massaging your other breast, your milk tainting it as well.

It was completely nasty, and Paul knew it, his dick was rock-hard and needed to be released from his jeans, he felt like he could just cum from drinking you. His eyes seemed to roll back, trying to remember the way you taste.

he inadvertently groaned, the buzzing sending waves of pleasure up to your head as you whined, your hands no longer stationed around his arms but propped up to tangle themselves into the blonde’s locks.

Paul’s other arm finally stopped rubbing circles into your inner thigh, inching closer to your cunt where it glistened with lust and need. He pulled back from your nipple, licking his lip for any residue on his lips of you.

“Baby, I can just cum from seeing you like this.” He mumbled, his thumb grazing your clit as your hands gripped his hair tighter in reaction. “I can’t be the only one having fun, right mama?” He spoke into your skin, his lips placing kisses onto your shoulder.

Your eyes closed as Paul’s thumb rubbed your clit in a circular motion, a gasp leaving your lips as unwillingly pushed against Paul’s hand.

He grinned at your reaction, stopping his action and using his thumb to spread your cunt open, it glistened in the natural light of one of the many barrel fires in the cave.

“Fuck. You’d let me get a taste at this pretty pussy, too, won’t you?” He asked, although he already knew the answer. You nodded, desperate for him to do something. “Yes, yes Paul, just, please..” you uttered a breathy complaint, wanting your boyfriend to just do something.

“It’s okay pretty, I’ve got you.” He cooed, he used two of his digits to dig into your cunt, instantly surrounding his cold fingers with warmth. You squeezed your eyes shut at the feeling of coldness in you.

Paul was amused at your expression, slowly pushing his fingers into you, trying to remember every feeling of you. His grin widened, allowing himself to return to your neglected nipple, eager to finish his meal.

a sound of squelching was heard in the alcove, breathy whines and groans accompanied it, Paul was sure the other boys would’ve heard it.

Paul was on a high, the way you tightened around his fingers and how your milk continued to spill no matter how long he sucked was too much; he could feel himself twitch in his jeans.

He was sure you could feel him too. More focused on your release, the pads of his fingers searched for a particular spot inside of you, almost scissoring his digits, making you moan. You digged your fingers into his hair, your other hand sliding down to give yourself a grip onto Paul’s shoulder.

Your fingernails made crescent marks on his shoulder, too immersed in the pleasure your blonde boyfriend gave you.

He hummed at you, the sound adding to the pleasure of your pussy being fingered well. His fingers fastened their pace; trying to get you to your release. Your moans heightened in pitch, feeling the coil in your stomach start to tighten.

Your pussy seemed get more and more sensitive the more Paul dug into it. His palms connected with your clit, adding more to the bliss that ran through your whole body.

Paul could feel how wet you had gotten in his hand, it dripped down to his pants, making a patch of your essence right under you, he didn’t care though, he cared that he could make you scream out by the end of it all.

“Are you close, honey? Just say the word, I can give it to you.” He ushered quietly; Paul looked to you for a go. You nodded desperately, “yes, yes paulie!” You whined, starting to grind your hips into his fingers to get you closer so you could cum.

A squeal left your lips; Paul had fastened his pace. The squelching your cunt made became intense, it was loud enough the rest of the guys should’ve heard what you two have been doing by now.

The coil in your stomach tightened second by second, the overwhelming feeling of Paul’s tongue flicking against your nipple, your moans pitched up, along with your high. Your pussy tightened against his fingers.

Paul had long ago switched to your other breast, drinking the remaining milk left in your boobs, his free hand no longer massaged by held you by the waist.

Everything seemed too much, the overstimulating sensation of Paul being everywhere in your body, the way Paul’s clothed cock poked through his pants and you could feel it on your ass, you were desperate to just ride him.

Your eyes rolled back at the feeling of Paul’s lips and fingers stimulating you to a high you could’ve never reached yourself.

You seemed to grip Paul’s head tightly to your breasts as the coil in your stomach finally snapped, your high reaching so high you could see white spots in your vision. You squeezed your eyes tight, your thighs shaking; you gushed around Paul’s fingers as a long moan left your lips.

Paul stopped latching onto your nipple, pulling away with only a string of saliva connecting the two of you. Paul looked at you once again, a huge small on his face, his pearly fangs clearly showing.

“Enjoyed it mama? Don’t feel sore n’more?” Paul asked, placing his chin in between your cleavage, his pretty blues looking at your features, trying to decipher what you thought.

You nodded at his question, your hands gently petting Paul’s lion mane as both of you huffed at the tiring thrill you both just had.

“That was…amazing, honey.” You mumbled tiredly, a small dopey smile on your face. Paul nodded eagerly, as if to say ‘that’s good.’ He returned back to your nipple, ready to latch on once again.

Your dopey smile turned to confusion, stopping your blonde boyfriend seconds before he could bring your nipple into his mouth once again, “Paulie, haven’t you drank enough?” You asked curiously, placing your hand on his cheek to tilt his head up.

He only excitedly grinned, “I want more, mamas, I always want more.” He replied, before continuing his mission of sucking your breasts dry.

“Paulie, wait! You need to save some for the baby—“ you giggled, trying to pull the blonde away before he grabbed both of your arms with his hands, you gasped at his sudden change in demeanour, more demanding and serious.

“Mama, I know you can make more.” He warned, you and Paul knew better than to test a vampire’s want and thirst. His eyes lidded, but you could tell that his eyes swirled with yellow, you knew it wasn’t going to take any longer until he let his vampire take over.

“You’ll make more milk, won’t you? For me and our baby?”

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hypocriticalspicewrites · 9 days

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Spiciest take, wasn’t originally mine but I’ll share it: David was in an issue of playgirl in the 70s

Others are: Paul and Dwayne used to be strippers and they had this big duo routine that got them decent money

Uhhh I don’t have anything for Marko my bad

Ooooo 👁👁 ngl I'm very curious about that David headcanon now.... Guess I gotta go searchin for more in it teehee~ 👀😏

#Dwayne and Paul being strippers #None of us could handle that #the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #lost boys #tlb 1987

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hypocriticalspicewrites · 10 days

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hypocriticalspicewrites · 10 days

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Lost Boys Fandom let me hear your spiciest/juciest personal headcanons about the boys! 👀

#Just for fun teehee #the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys 1987 #lost boys #tlb 1987 #🍒cherrys spice cabinet🔥

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hypocriticalspicewrites · 10 days

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writing smut like

how many synonyms for “penis” do I actually know?

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hypocriticalspicewrites · 11 days

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How Far?

{david x reader}

rating: explicit

summary: You finally admit one of your secret fantasies to David - being hypnotized.

warnings: hypnokink, mind control kink, established relationship, swearing, Dom/sub undertones, you can't act coy with this man he makes you say it, mentions of choking, mentions of pain play

David waits until the boys leave before he tackles the issue head-on.

You've been distant all night, and even though David can be an asshole, he knows he didn't do anything wrong this time. You're not upset, either. (He would smell the annoyance wafting off your feeble human body if you were. It's amazing how expressive you are - and you don't even realize it.) You are agitated, though; a very special, very heady kind of agitated that makes his cock stir.

You're lost in thought when David plops down beside you. The ancient sofa dips under his weight, causing you topple toward him. David doesn't mind. He slings his arm around your shoulder and pulls you close.

"Someone's distracted," David says.

You could deny it, but what's the point? Lying never worked with him.

"Sorry."

You rest your head on his chest, finally giving him the attention he's craved all night. You suppose you have been distracted. It's not your fault, though. It's your stupid boyfriends'.

Unconsciously, you kiss the hollow of his throat and snuggle closer. You have the cave all to yourself ... You might as well make the best of it, especially if it means calming the ache tormenting your core.

David draws you into his lap, trailing his hands down your back until they reach your ass. He squeezes, dragging your hips closer, forcing you to feel the ache that's formed in his pants, too.

"Someone's needy," you murmur.

David raises an eyebrow. "Do you expect me not to get hard when your scent is stinking up the place?"

His words sink in. Your face burns with embarrassment. "Fucking vampires..."

David doesn't need a reason to be smug, but your reply does just that. He eagerly snatches the upper hand, rolling his hips against yours. You bite your lip to keep from moaning.

"Talk to me," David says. "I wanna know what's got you hot under the collar."

You groan and hide your face in his shoulder.

You hate it when he plays this game because he always wins. Sure, you win, too - fuck, if the prize isn't sweet - but it's humiliating. Especially now; especially this.

This isn't like asking him to choke you or slap you around. It's depraved. And while David has never shamed your kinks in the past (even the really disgusting ones), for some reason, this one feels like a deal breaker. After all, even though David is a vampire, he's still a guy from the nineteen-hundreds, and you know that one day you'll scandalize his poor Progressive Era heart.

David says your name, and you shake your head, refusing to show your face.

"I can always make you talk," he states.

The threat shoots down your spine like a lightning bolt. Your thighs clench around him, and you can't help the sudden gush of arousal that dampens your underwear.

You can feel the shift in his posture as he puts two and two together. "Oh?"

Fucking vampires ...

David squeezes your hips, pulling you away from his chest so he can look into your eyes. You try to turn away, but he catches your cheek, coaxing you to face him head-on.

"You're not getting anything if you pout like that." David holds your chin, and, despite that permanent smug expression laced onto his face, he's sincere. "Tell me what you want."

You wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole, but it doesn't. So, you gather your words and slowly, hesitantly admit your desires.

"I want you to control me."

David tilts his head. "To do what?"

"Whatever you want."

Thankfully, he doesn't seem repulsed. He doesn't seem anything. His face is frustratingly impassive; his blue eyes never waver.

"How far are you willing to go, sweetheart?"

How far?

You bite your lip.

Your mind conjures image after image of all the perverted things David could make you do, but telling him spoils the fun. You want to be his little hypnoslave, a mindless fuckpuppet that does whatever he wants.

Besides, it's not like he can't tell. Hypnosis isn't the only talent vampires have - they're mind readers, too. And when David chooses (and he chooses a lot), he can peer into your twisted little brain to get the answers he needs.

You feel him there, tickling the edge of your consciousness as he pokes his nose into your business. You don't mind. Thoughts are easier than words; they're unfiltered, laid bare for his viewing pleasure. David flips through your imagination like pages in a magazine, earmarking the fantasies he finds particularly appealing, prodding the ones he wants more details about.

He knows your limits, the things you would never do in a thousand years. He respects them. You know, even under hypnosis, he wouldn't exploit that.

David doesn't need an answer, but he wants one. So, you say:

"I trust you."

He releases your chin in favor of stroking your hair. "Yeah?" You nod. David smirks. "Give me a kiss, then, sweetheart, and I'll make you feel good."

You close the distance between your bodies. The kiss isn't heated. It's passionate - an exchange of vows between two lovers. You hand him your trust, and he promises not to break it. You crush his jacket between needy fingers as David sinks his hooks into your brain.

Initially, it's a mere whisper of a sensation, but before you know it, it buzzes in your bones and pulses in your veins. That clear, hypnotic suggestion takes root in your nervous system until you're limp in David's arms. The shame is the first thing that goes. Your head is so foggy you can barely remember why you were embarrassed.

And then, you're hot.

That unwavering need in your sex becomes painful as a small, conscious part of you realizes that you're finally under David's control.

David breaks the kiss.

You realize he must have left that one part of you awake - just long enough for you to know he was following through, long enough for you to see his smirk before he fully submerged you into the trance.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes," you breathe, drunk on him.

"Good."

David cradles either side of your head, and your mind completely fogs over. His voice echoes in your ears despite his lips never moving.

I'll take care of everything, sweetheart. All you need to do is let go.

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hypocriticalspicewrites · 12 days

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𝕷𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝕾𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗, 𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝕳𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝕯𝖔𝖓𝖊? 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒔 𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝑾𝒆𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑨𝑼

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔: 𝑴𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍 𝑬𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏.

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: 𝑴𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒐𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝑺𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒂 𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒂'𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒉... 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒘 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔. 𝑷𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝑺𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒂 𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒇𝒊𝒆𝒅, 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒆𝒔...

𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑺 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑭𝑰𝑹𝑺𝑻 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑳𝑰𝑬𝑺!! 𝑰'𝒎 𝒔𝒐 𝒆𝒙𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰'𝒎 𝒑𝒖𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒊𝒄 𝒐𝒖𝒕!

𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔: [𝑵𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒕! 𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒂𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓!]

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅, 𝒈𝒐𝒓𝒆, 𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒄 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒂𝒄𝒌, 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒇𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒍𝒕, 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒃𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒔, 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒚 𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔.

“Forgive me.”

He uttered the word with each weak breath that left his lips and into the chill air of the night. He whispered it with every foot forward into the large hole he dug, whenever his grandfathers rusted shovel gathered the moist dirt and damp grass which would be swiftly casted over his shoulder following the rest of the gathering earth.

“Forgive me.”

His sweaty hands gripped firmly onto the wood handle of the shovel, his hold so tight his knuckles grew white as the moon staring that stared down on him, judging him for his actions, weeping stars as if to ask what he has done, what has he done to do this, to violate such a peaceful ground, to step foot into this yard and prey on the vulnerable, who spent their lives fighting, only now to rest?

“Forgive me.”

Michael repeated, his body cold, and yet perspiration seeped from his skin, running down his sharp jaw as he relentlessly worked at digging up the freshly buried grave before him, his arms sore and aching, but he refused to stop, for he knew it was the least he could handle as a punishment for his actions. The end of the shovel halted, the sound of wood splintering at its jagged edge making his rapid movements stop, pulling it away to see the engraved edges of a coffin creeping through the dirt, the beautifully hand-crafted work now ruined by the edge of his shovel.

He fell to his knees, trembling, splintered hands clawing and digging at the thin layer of soil hiding the elegant casket holding it’s treasure inside. His hands matched his heart and soul, dirty. Filthy. Ridden in waste and muck. Digging into the creases and crevices of his purity like the soil that stains his fingertips and buries beneath his fingernails. His hands wiped away the mud from the engraved cross, stray gems planted into it, the moon striking it at a point they seemed to glow. It felt almost like it was stinging his eyes.

He quickly got to his feet again, looking around him to find a crowbar he had brought alongside his equipment. Grasping it with slippery hands as firm as he could, he readied to stab it into the golden hinges and lock keeping him from getting what he needed inside.

“Forgive me.”

He closed his eyes as he carried his strength into the swing of plunging the crowbar into the side of the casket, the sound of wood cracking and hinges weakening, trying desperately to keep it shut, crying out for him to stop. Michael was a very strong boy, and yet even now he found his strength failing to help him carry out his deeds. He gave a grunt as he ripped it out of it’s first location, carefully gliding its curved edge lover, aiming at another lock, and taking one final, and hopeful swing.

On nights like these, he would’ve requested his younger brother to follow and aid him, like the many other nights of carrying out their monthly duty. But tonight was different, just like the many nights he had told his brother that when he asked to help him. It was different. It was dangerous. They were dangerous.

They were growing restless. Impatient. Impatient for what? Michael did not know. He merely knew that the risks of taking his brother with him anymore was something he couldn’t bear to imagine. So, much like his heart and soul, he was alone tonight.

He pushed and pulled with his might, teeth gritted hard enough his jaw grew tense and formed and ached. The casket broke open, revealing the inside. He’d never grow use to the sickening feeling that pooled in his guts, seeing the peaceful, resting face of a human being, now fallen into eternal slumber.

Her name was Patience Willows. A poor, young creature, who had fallen into illness she fought so hard against, but ultimately failed. She was a sweet girl, with a loving family and good friends, and betrothed to a man who was just as hopeless for her as she was for him. Her fair skin, and pale hair stood out under the moon, her black gowns she was buried in contrasted to how lively she seemed to be, the bouquet of orchids and roses, wilting away in her clasped hands, tangled in the beads of rosaries and the small cross hanging from the end nestled atop her stomach.

Michael’s hands came up to her face. Cold to the touch. Like ice on his flesh her face unmoving like stone, as if sculptors carved her body, and she was merely made of the finest marble. But she was a girl. A human, and innocent young woman, taken too soon. Even graceful in death as she was living.

And he had to take that away from her. He had to take it away from her family.

“Sweet Patience. Sweet, sister Patience.” He spoke as if he’d expect a reply, as if her big dark eyes would open again to the sound of his voice. “Forgive me for what I must now do with your mortal body…” Michael’s voice was barely above a whisper, his trembling hands left her face, one moved beneath her back, and the other the back of her legs, ripping her body away from its casket and into the night air where he stood tall, holding her like a sleeping maiden. Her head fell back, her arm falling from its gently clasped pose, and limped at her side. Her gowns and hair blew in the chill breeze, the sight was almost haunting.

Michael’s heart ached, he could feel it pound in his chest and wished for him to end this. But he couldn’t. There was no other way. He was beginning to grow desperate, finding every fresh body he possibly could, anything that seemed tempting or tantalizing enough to catch their eye and keep their attention long enough before they grew restless again. But he was beginning to grasp the straws the longer time began to go on. This was his last hope to keep his family and the town of Santa Carla safe.

He trudged through the forests of his family grounds, the settled grass and astray rotting logs pushed away from the path he had spend years creating took him deeper and deeper into the woods. The creeping vines and branches tugging and pried at his holy robes, like teasing fingers and wandering hands, the leaves and grass brushing around him sounding like hisses and whispers. The deep thickets pulled and tore at the gentle fabric of Patience gown, her beautiful resting garments now ruined and made imperfect. It only made Michael’s heart hurt further with sympathy.

The longer he walked, the more the space began to clear, the moon now crept through casting shadows across the trees, and the grass began to shorten. Thorned vines caught on his boots, always overgrowing the path he had created. No matter how many times he’d pull them out, it seemed they merely grew back every night.

Roses sprouted around them light weeds, deep blood reds, and the purest white buds all around, replacing the bushes and trees once hiding him from the moon and the stars shameful stare. The thorned vines and roses wrapped around everything like snakes, choking away like and growing over the ancient stone and ruins Michael was walking to. The closer he got, the more dreadful he felt. It was like the place carried the same evil of the ones who resided in it- yet it could have been the most holiest grounds decades ago, and now it was left to time and darkness to swallow it whole.

The ruins of this Chapel were very large, even if it hadn’t seemed that way from the outside or whatever angle you might have stumbled across it with fate in mind. So much so it was almost like once you walked in, you could never find you way out. Michael was walking toward the back of it, the caved in roofs and broken foundation greeting him routinely night after night. His chest heaved with exhaustion, his arms were throbbing, his legs were burning, the body in his arms felt too heavy to keep going, but he continued. The only thing keeping him going was the thought of his family, waiting for him at home. His mother sleeping soundly by now, and his Grandfather, if not doing the same, was awake busying himself with the strange taxidermy residing in their home and even the Church they ran. And Sam, his dearest brother Sam, he only hoped he wasn’t awake, waiting for him, worried about him. He hoped his brother was sleeping well, not wasting good hours on a brother who had trapped him in such a life he was to live now.

“Lord Jesus,” Michael’s voice trembled, taking each step up the ruined, cracked stares, the moon’s hateful light shining down atop the alter like a spotlight, reveled in display. “Son of God… Have mercy on me, a sinner.” He walked with slow, cautious steps, his footwork calculated, like a waltz, his boots echoing through the rubble stone.

“Wash me from my guilt with Your precious blood and cleanse me of my wrongdoings…” Patience heavy body left his arms, setting her atop the alter, his dirtied hands touching her fair face one final time, the cold feeling of her skin one he had felt many times before, and would forever feel as long as he breathed. “Create in me, a clean heart… Oh God,” He stepped away from her, backing away from the alter and down it’s steps, all the way till he couldn’t see her body put out on display under the moonlight, and even then, he couldn’t handle it, his eyes closing and turning his head away from a sight even imagining made him sick. “Forgive me from all my sins and take not Your Holy Spirit from me by Your mercies…”

The air grew cold, and he could feel the wind on the back of his neck. Wind blowing through the cracks of foundation sounded like whispers, he could hear voices in the trees, and laughs ring out in the halls. Shadows dance on the walls, tempting for him to open his eyes, but they remained shut, not daring to open and witness a sight that would claw through his eyes and carve it’s name on his mind to never forget.

“Forgive… And renew a right spirit within me. Amen.”

And just like that, it went silent. Too silent. The wind halted, and the forest and life within paused. The whispers ceased and it felt as if even Michael’s heart came to a stop for just a moment. His eyes fluttered open, slowly turning his head back up to the steps, only taking a few more just to peek up at the alter.

Patience’s body was gone.

Michael let out a breath he forgot he was even holding, a hand coming up to his head, wiping away the thick layer of sweat forming a residue on his forehead, his fingers tangling in his dark curls. His stomach turned, making him swallow thickly and audibly, shallow breathes leaving past his parted lips. It was done. It was over for those few, spare days. Those few spare, haunting days.

And then he heard it. Quiet at first, so much so he could have merely considered it his mind playing a trick on him and went his way, but Michael knew better. And it grew louder. It was laughter.

Not joyous, not happy or a warm laugh, it was cruel. It was mocking, taunting, and it slowly began to grow louder, and voices joined it, resonating along the walls and ringing through the ruins of the Chapel. Cackles and barking laughter that made Michael’s blood run cold as the sound fed through his ears and froze him from the inside. His hand left his side, reflexively coming to the cross that hung around his neck, nestled against his chest right where his heart was. He clutched the powerful silver in his hand, his fingers running slow circles into the vibrant colored stones embedded into it’s surface as if silently praying, but a prayer wasn’t on Michael’s mind the the moment.

The laughter ensued, louder and louder as though circling him, in the sky, beneath the cobblestone floors, behind him right in his ear or standing before him, yet there was no one to be seen- but he knew very well he wasn’t alone. Not here. And as if his thought were read, the laughter quickly began to silence, very, very slowly. Going silent for only a split second with a few chaste whispers exchanged, and the world slowly began to grow alive yet again in the dead of night.

Michael’s hand stayed firmly grasping his crucifix, feeling his fast heartbeat against his fingers as he took only a few more steps up the stares toward the alter, when he saw a body. The very same body that was lying there just minutes before. He just felt his fear rise the longer he stared at Patience body back on the surface where she was once an offering, now turned away.

Her dress ripped up, legs and arms full of cuts and claw marks. Her blouse was ripped open and her peeled away flesh on display. Her ribs cracked open, like it was a cage, revealing her now hollowed chest where a heart would be, now gone from her bosom with only the bloody remnants of her lungs as the crimson liquid wept from her body and down the pure white marble and stone of the alter, staining the steps, and the petals of roses and orchids stuck to her skin where blood had crept into every curve and crevice along her baren flesh creeped out.

A beautiful woman, a sweet creature, who’s looks reflected the beauty and pureness of her soul… Now mangled and violated in a gruesome slaughter, just for Michael’s eyes to see. He all but stumbled toward her, falling to his knees as he threw his arms over her body, his mind riddled with confusion and utter distraught, blue eyes wandering her face and finding himself unable to understand. Why?

The laughter quickly came back, but it wasn’t all around him now. Instead, it echoed from the seemingly large opening into the ground behind the alter, a cave. Going deep, deep, and down, down into darkness, you couldn’t even see your footing as you would descend into its cavern. The laughter, the voices called out to him, calling his name, and mocking him with snickers and cackles.

“I don’t understand…” He spoke genuinely, eyes dancing between Patience and the cavern below. “I don’t understand.” He asked once more, his voice raising. “What do you want from me?” His guilt, his fear, his confusion all of it was fogging his mind, making him frustrated. It made him angry. It made him enraged.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!” He shouted, finding himself unable to handle any more of this cruel madness he was going out through, his voice ringing through the Chapel, echoing back to him and the fluttering sound of bats and disturbed birds followed. The laughter died down as well, but it wasn’t to put his mind at peace. It was to leave him yet again, another night with no answers to his plea.

“I’ve done everything you wanted… I’ve committed atrocities for you. I’ve hurt people, I’ve betrayed my family, my covenants… What more could you want of me?” He cried out, awaiting an answer. And with little hope left, it died out following the silence. He looked to his hands in defeat, now riddled in dirt and innocent blood. “What have a done..”

Silence. Only the quiet comforted him, succumbing him to accepting that he would spend the next month restless, with no answers, with more people getting hurt, with more families coming to his church pleading for prayers and blessings of safety from the beasts of Santa Carla. More missing posters around any wall surface in the town, more questions from his mother. He could barely handle it anymore. How, he was willing to do anything to get this madness to stop.

His heart felt heavy, and as body numb as he got to his feet, wiping the dirt and blood off his Holy robes as best he could, looking toward the disgusting sight of the body splayed out atop the alter, just like the many other past offerings these last few weeks. And like the many weeks before,

He began his walk back home. Dawn approaching, the sun creeping over the view of the boardwalk far, far into the distance...

#🦇🤍White Wedding AU🤍🦇#fruitbats🦇🍒#🍒daily dose of cherry🍒#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #tlb #the lost boys fanfiction #tlb david #tlb paul #tlb dwayne #tlb marko #tlb michael #michael emerson

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