Every time I notice an AI fic that has a lot of notes (either the readers don’t know or don’t care) I feel myself slip a little more into psychosis and fills me with disgust
What if you are so busy you just stop writing anything, period. Anyhow, this is a little preview of Radio Static,
Your leg bounces nervously as you look at the clock, 7:30, then back at the glass to see the dickhead guy who was cutting in to your fucking air time, 7:31 fuck!
Pulling things out of your backpack as quickly as possible, surprisingly, you have a notebook and a pen, pinning the note to the glass, you scribble shittily, “Get OFF THE AIR,” turning the sign, you thwack it against the glass hard enough to get the guy's attention.
“Leave now,” you mouth through the glass, pointing at the sign, and the brown-haired average man sighs as much as physically possible. Finally, finally, at 7:33, the dulcet tones of this guy begin as he concludes his show.
Stuffing everything back into your bag, you run to the heavy door that separates the radio equipment from the station. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice 7:34. You pull on the heavy soundproofed door, rushing in, you bump into the inconsiderate douche 7:35
“Fuck" you groan before whipping around to the brown haired average man now dubbed anomalous host douche,
"My show is at 7:30, not 7:35, not 7:32, 7:30,” you explain slowly as you start moving backwards into the room. “You are supposed to be gone by the time im here do you know that?” you tilt your head condescendingly. 7:36
You turn around ignoring the heavy slam of the soundproof door to begin the erratic process of setting up the next two hours around the room, changing the blinding white lights into a dark pink, finding a pair of headphones from the hangboard where the leather isn't torn to shit, and grabbing a new mic cover because few people have been talking into the same one all day why wouldn't you change it.
You toss off your jacket, hearing it fall into some corner of the room, and slip the large headphones on. You adjust the audio levels, which were left too high! God anomalous host douche sucks finding your bag you force through the clutter quickly pulling out a cassette brand spanking new with a smile, slipping the too big headphones over your head, you watch the timer for the last song AHD left on, and with a breath you bring the mic to your mouth 0:03 0:02 0:01 Click.
“Good evening, Santa Carla. It is a lovely 82 degrees out. The waves are gnarly, and the boardwalk is in full swing. I am your charming host, Final Girl, and you are listening to Santa Carla Radio or….Scar for short".
I'm sorry for being so sappy, but I wanted to show you guys something.
When I first donated to PCRF in December 2023, it was barely 10% close to its goal. Now in March 2024, they're also 100%. Everyone of you has helped support a better future for Gaza.
They're so close to their goal. Please donate or share this post so that they can get to their goal🇵🇸
Alright executive decision time I’m gonna open up requests so I can get actual feedback before writing a full fic and I’ll be slowly coming out with drabbles hit my line!
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.”
💳💳💳💳can I have some Marko please and thank you. Just pure playful, smutty goodness.
➾ pairing ; marko (tlb) x fem!reader.
FORMAT: drabble — requested.
WORD COUNT: 3.7K.
WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), unprotected sex, p in v sex, bloodplay (he’s a vampire), rough sex, multiple positions (missionary & doggy), fingering (f!receiving), dirty talk, making out, biting, hair-pulling, scratching, marking, scent kink, marko is pretty rough & greedy, clothes ripping, cumplay, groping, marko is italian, implied marko/reader/paul relationship, risk of getting caught, possessive & obsessive behavior from marko, his slutty crop top is hot to me
AUTHOR’S NOTES: literally having some insane lost boys brainrot rn ,,, working on some more threesomes and just paul content (love him to death ngl), also !! adding more new characters to the muse list aaaaaand gonna try to focus on horny drabbles. just filth, no thoughts ❤️ love you all and thanks so much for your support!
The sharp, stinging scent of copper fills your nostrils, heavy in your lungs, burning away your senses with every breath. You still aren’t fully accustomed to the smell — it’s vitriolic, visceral with every breath that you take, causing you to briefly press your palm against your face.
Golden irises rake over you over the twitching corpse in the sand, appraising your state of wellbeing. Someone had gotten too handsy, too invasive in your space — and that was always enough to spell doom in the eyes of a very territorial vampire.
Despite Marko’s stature, his appetite dwarfed that of his brothers — twice as insatiable, twice as violent.
His tongue lashed across his lips, pearlescent fangs entrenched in crimson, soon to be lapped clean as he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand. It’s just you and him on some stretch of beach, just out of-sight of the boardwalk.
Marko’s idea of an enjoyable night is hunting and fucking — in no particular order. Paul finally relinquished some of his possessiveness and allowed him to ‘take you out’, which wasn’t entirely subtle. You agreed, of course — Marko was exhilarating in the best of ways.
“Didn’t like the way he looked at you,” Marko confessed, dragging the pad of his thumb across the corner of his mouth. His mane of golden curls billowed with the oceanside breeze, body glittering in specks of red. “He was a little stale.”
To you, blood is blood — but to vampires, it has a certain taste depending on the individual, a particular viscosity and aftertaste. Marko had amusingly compared it to wine — the age, ingredients, and bouquet, an amalgamation that made blood stale or sweet.
Your gaze flickered toward the now-lifeless corpse strewn about in the sand, a Surf-Nazi whose flesh is stone-cold and pale, devoid of lifeblood. “He did reek of something awful.” You replied, stepping away from the body and toward his motorcycle, instead.
“It didn’t ruin the mood, did it?” Marko inquired, calmly stepping over his dinner as he sauntered toward you, hand grasping at your hip. Sometimes, he had a horrible habit of getting carried away with feeding, and it veered off into an adrenaline rush or lust.
“Not in the slightest.” You mused, shaking your head as you swiped away a smear of blood from his chin. Before you could pull your hand away, he snagged your thumb between his teeth, lips curling into a smirk as he sucked the digit clean of any cruor.
An excitable sigh hitched within the bottom of your throat, eyes glued to the sight of his pretty lips wrapped around your finger. His fangs scraped across your flesh, teasing you with a feather-light touch.
Beneath the cherubic features and angelic facade that was Marko, he was a demon — in the best ways, of course. His halo was steeped in blood, crooked atop his mountain of soft, golden curls. His stare was incendiary, twisted together with lust and adoration.
“Should we go back home?” You inquired, voice soft and barely above a whisper. The rest of the pack were out hunting for the foreseeable future — which meant that the cavern would be left for you two.
Marko smirked, dropping your thumb from his maw before he coaxed you in for a kiss, open-mouthed and fueled by a blistering desire. A simpering moan escaped you, feeling his tongue greedily invade your mouth, hands grasping at your hips.
The kiss was more than enough to stoke a fire within your belly, one that demanded to be extinguished. A pang of honey-sweet arousal struck between your thighs, a scent that Marko could detect from miles away.
When he withdrew, those pretty eyes of his flickered toward your stomach, sluggishly tracing your form again until he met your doe-like stare. “If that’s what you want,” Marko clicked his tongue, fingers slinking toward the pliant flesh of your thigh. “You’re beautiful.”
It was exactly what you wanted — time alone with him. You flourished underneath his compliment, spoken through his forked tongue and sweet tone of voice. “I just want you,” You uttered, gasping when he nipped at your jaw. “Wherever that is.”
Admittedly, Marko found some sentiment in that.
Love was a complex ideal to vampires, especially the boys, who’d known nothing but carnage and survival, many decades of self-preservation. People were simply playthings, food — for him to hold some affection for you, a human, was a daunting notion.
He released you from his grasp, gesturing toward the bike with a nod of his head. “I’ll be patient.” Marko murmured, swinging his leg over as he settled onto his bike, feeling you clamor in behind him.
You wrapped your arms around his abdomen, digits idly toying with the hem of his crop-top, able to feel the taut musculature underneath. It drove him crazy every time you rode with him. Judging from the way he sat, rigid and poised, it must’ve had some effect on him.
As the motorcycle roared to life, Marko unceremoniously spun the vehicle around, causing a spray of sand to fly in the other direction. He sped off onto the stretch of beach, making for the cave at dangerous speeds. The cool, oceanic breeze swept over you, tinged with the sting of alkaline.
Snug against him, your digits continued to drift underneath his clothing, icy muscle flush against the warmth of your fingertips. He shot you a look from over his shoulder, incendiary and shadowed — a warning, more than likely.
Feigning innocence, you simply forced a cheeky smile, noticing the way his body shook with a huff of laughter. He invaded your mind, perusing through your thoughts like the pages of an open book.
“Careful, dolcezza.” Marko crooned, issuing yet another warning — it wasn’t as subtle as the last. As you crept into newfound territory, toying with your vampiric paramour, you had a feeling that you were in for it once you reached the cave.
Something warm blossomed within your chest, a familiar heat that simmered with desire. Arousal pooled between your legs as he narrowly guided the bike away from a cluster of trees, grinning like a shark when he noted the little flicker of nervousness on your face.
It was adrenaline intermingled with a twinge of fear, enough to produce a unique pheromone that Marko caught a whiff of. He revved the motorcycle, pushing down on the gas pedal for a boost of speed, wind whipping throughout your hair.
A pale, silvery moon hung overhead, turning those golden curls to a shade of platinum. Marko whooped and howled, leaving behind a trail of disturbed sand in his wake, guiding the bike over a hill and fallen log.
Your fingers clutched onto him, cheek pressed against the back of his shoulder. The exhilaration of it all made your pulse quicken, excitement climbing to new levels. Marko’s cajoling laughter filled the air, the motorcycle gliding down a dirt path toward the beach.
The cave sat soundly beside the ocean, shrouded by a shadowy chasm and plenty of debris. The rest of the bikes were missing, much to Marko’s delight. As he hit the kickstand on his bike, you stepped off, letting out a strangled gasp when he grabbed your waist.
Without warning, he hoisted you into the air, snickering and teasing you with bouts of laughter as he flew into the cave, taking you right into his nest.
“Marko!” You squealed, feeling your back hit the mattress with a rather unceremonious thud, the wind being ripped from your lungs. His grin remained, pearlescent and glittering as he perched at the foot of the bed, teeth catching on the leather of his glove.
“We’re all alone,” Marko mused, and began to slink closer, abandoning his roost. He nipped at your jaw and lower lip, teeth delightfully close to your jugular. Your flesh felt velvety beneath his palms, belonging to him for the evening, much to his satisfaction. “What am I going to do with you?”
The scent of your arousal flooded his senses, throat beginning to ache with a dull throbbing. He absentmindedly licked his lower lip, hazel hues narrowing slightly as he looked you over as one would a delicious meal, but it morphed into something else.
Something more than that.
Part of him would always view you as a meal, as his thrall, his fragile little human — but the other found affection, a twinge of love that steadily grew into something possessive and obsessive. Marko understood why Paul was so crazy about you, why he worshiped the ground that you walked on.
It was the way you looked at him — smitten and enamored, as if you hadn’t seen something so beautiful before. While he enjoyed the fear, savored your nervousness, this was something else entirely.
“You’re perfect,” You exhaled, visibly charmed by his very presence, by the way he carried himself. Marko reminded you of a Greek sculpture, cold and crafted of an impenetrable marble — beautiful and stoic. Yet, he was devious, the devil disguised as an angel. “Pretty.”
Marko hummed, hands unabashedly roaming underneath your dress, groping at your breasts. “Aren’t you sweet?” He purred, listening to the erratic beating of your heart, nose skirting along your jawline as he inhaled a gust of your saccharine scent.
Your fingers reached for the nape of his neck, perusing through his golden curls as he pushed himself in between your legs. His hand hastily snuck towards the cleft between your thighs, seeking out that familiar heat as he swept his digits over your clothed cunt.
“Marko!” You whimpered, practically writhing underneath him as he dipped his fingers beneath your panties, gliding through your slick slit. He wound his fist into the thin material, shredding it apart with a brusque tug. His sneer made you flustered, shrinking underneath his stare.
“Want me to make you feel good?” He uttered, digits prodding at your cunt with a feather-light touch, enough to drive you insane. “Use your words.” Marko insisted, feeling your hands claw at his patchwork jacket. Your mind was a pool of crass thoughts, interwoven with your own embarrassment.
“Yes,” You blubbered, tugging on his curls with a sense of urgency. “Please, Marko, I — I want you!” His snickering and playful smile caused butterflies to erupt within the pit of your stomach, breath hitching as he shrugged his jacket aside. He peeled away those leather gloves, touching you with smooth, icy palms.
As soon as his mouth met yours, you reciprocated with a flurry of passion, scatterbrained and drunk with desire. His lips felt plush against yours, kiss turning sloppy as his teeth scraped across your lower lip. A gasp escaped you as you listened to the sound of fabric tearing.
Marko ripped your dress, uncouth and showing disinterest in the garment altogether. Your brassiere was next, but you were able to save it from an unfortunate fate, letting it join his jacket instead. His lips roamed over your chest, biting at your breasts, your sternum, littering you in lovebites.
He murmured something in Italian — something indiscernible, but it sounded pretty nonetheless. You felt something sharp just above your breast, the intrusion of fangs as Marko took a bite, enough to satiate. He licked his lower lip, lapping at the crescent-shaped indent before he kissed you again.
Much to your delight, his hand returned to the molten heat between your thighs, digits roaming along your slit before he pushed them forward. You shuddered, legs forced apart by his body as he deliberately stroked at your cunt, thumb teasing your clit.
The coppery twang of blood stained his tongue, which happened to collide with yours. Every kiss ripped away a wisp of air from your lungs, body prickling with an electric pleasure. Marko’s fingers found your entrance, easing themselves inside of you.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” Marko uttered, his gaze wrought with a lust-warped intimacy. You shrank underneath his oppressive stare, heart thudding beneath your collarbone. “My thrall.” He watched the way your countenance blossomed into a vision of pure ecstasy.
Your hips twitched, jolting and rolling into the sensation of his fingers. He found a pleasurable rhythm, easing his digits in and out of your tight cunt. Your hand moved underneath his crop-top, reveling in the feeling of sinewy muscle underneath.
“Take this off,” You moaned, tugging at the tattered fabric with a sense of insistence. “Please, Marko.” Your voice tapered off into a whine when he curled his fingers ever so slightly, thumb grazing your clit yet again.
With a bemused huff, he obeyed, treating you to the charming sight of his lean musculature. His flesh was cold to the touch, impenetrable and sturdy like marble, somewhat sunkissed. Paul was pretty in a different way — wild, untamed, and unapologetically himself.
Marko reminded you of a sculpture, a cherub with a carefully-concocted veil — tear it aside, and you would find a rather beautiful demon. He stared at you with a strange intensity, savoring the way your nails dug into his bicep.
Candlelight danced across his skin, producing an attractive shade of orange that only made him look painfully perfect. He smirked when you bucked forward, chasing after his fingers — he cruelly let them drift away, only for you to let out a disgruntled whine.
He showered you in a barrage of rough bites and hickeys, letting them trail from your neck to collarbone, something noticeable. They were right alongside Paul’s — though, most of his were all around your breasts.
With another careful pistoning of his digits, Marko withdrew his fingers from your slick core, crudely sucking them free of your nectar. You tasted divine, a taste that he’d begun to crave. His hand moved toward the fly of his jeans and chaps.
Marko occasionally entertained you with foreplay — that was more Paul’s forte than anything else. The curly-headed leech was much more absorbed in fucking you until you were a sobbing mess, and that was what he intended on doing.
“Don’t be quiet,” Marko crooned, grinning like the cat who’d just caught the canary. The doe-eyed, mesmerized look you gave him was enough to make him pause for a moment, letting the intimacy crackle between the both of you. He kissed you, feeling your arms loop underneath his. “Sweet little human.”
There was something unusually attractive about Marko referring to you as that — he had all the power. Knowing that he possessed the ability to rip you open and chose not to added some amorous layer to your relationship.
His cock pushed against your cunt, and he let himself linger there until you were moaning, desperately pushing your hips forward. His soft, cajoling giggle made you involuntarily smile, but it dissipated as soon as he fucked his way inside of you.
Marko huffed, savoring the stinging sensation of your nails digging into his shoulder blades, knees squeezing at his narrow nips. “Marko,” You whimpered, knowing that he didn’t have the intention of being gentle. “I need you.” You sighed with passion.
His initial thrusts were erratic and desperate, not soft or coddling. Marko wanted to find a rhythm that worked for him, and not you. Roughness and brutality were the only ways he knew how, evident in the way he began to move into you. His cock slammed away at your sensitive cunt, feeling you clench and shake around him.
A blistering heat consumed you, coursing throughout your body like a tidal wave. It was beyond pleasant, white-hot and visceral as Marko wasted no time in picking up his pace. A low growl resonated from the back of his throat, cock battering away at your cunt.
You felt his hand spread your legs apart, hips brushing against yours as he rutted into you. Your fingers left scratches behind on his back, angry-red with little pearls of crimson. The way Marko obliterated you was borderline godly — a stark juxtaposition to the vampire himself.
Despite the roughness of it all, there was an intimacy to be found within it, a deep obsession that Marko felt for you. His face moved toward your neck, lips peppering messy kisses wherever he could.
A cacophony of lewd noises filled the cavern, accompanied by your string of pleasured moans and needy whimpers. “Marko!” You cried, unabashed as you yelped into the abyss of the cave.
When he pounded into you with the force of a battering ram, you swore you saw the heavens themselves, lips agape as you clawed at his musculature. Marko didn’t care whatsoever — in fact, it only added fuel to the fire as he nipped at any inch of available flesh.
“I’m close.” You panted, listening to the sounds of his heavy huffs and soft grunts. You were ensnared, trapped between his insatiable jaws. Clamoring forward, you attempted to kiss him, only to be met with a flurry of dizzying desire and teeth.
Marko’s lips curled into a grin, scent of your arousal stinging his senses again. It turned him into some feral animal, fueled by the primal need to rut. You savored this, drunk on his passion and ferocity. You felt his mouth press along your jaw; wherever he could reach.
You threatened to tear Marko asunder, digging into his flesh with such force that a human would find it painful. Thankfully, your paramour was supernatural — he was indomitable. Your throat burned from the constant barrage of sound that escaped you, lips swollen from the flurry of kisses.
He brusquely pulled himself out of you, cock oozing with beads of precum as he grabbed at your hips. “Just a little more, dolcezza.” Marko murmured, biting at your shoulder as he put you down onto all fours, bringing you right back against him.
You gasped, choking on air as he pounded back into you, cock hitting new depths as he hunched in close. You could feel his hand tangling into your hair, breath fanning out across your back.
A series of desperate whines left you, face buried near the pillows as Marko fucked you through your orgasm. That familiar rush of white-hot pleasure made you feel as if you were floating, hot and heavy between your thighs. Your stomach churned with molten heat, flesh crawling with fire.
You felt like you were going to collapse, carried away within the sea of ecstasy. Marko didn’t stop for anything, his pace voracious as he consumed you completely, cock buried deep inside of you — as far as it would go. His core felt tight, body snug against yours.
Marko’s grasp on your hips was ironclad, hard enough to leave behind imprint-shaped bruises. His chest erupted with a grunt, his noises subtle compared to your symphony of delight. You shuddered, body spasmodic in the wake of your release.
“Good girl.” Marko purred, finding amusement in the way you attempted to push your thighs together. He began to rut into you again, the intensity climbing to new heights before he pulled out, painting your back in ropes of sticky seed. That was his favorite.
He used the torn remnants of your dress to clean you up, pressing a string of kisses along your spine as you settled back down, body quivering. Marko was more than happy to gather you into his arms, smirking all the while as he pressed a kiss against your brow.
“I’m sorry for scratching you,” You mumbled, visibly sheepish when you noticed the marks you’d left behind. It wasn’t pretty — his cruor was drying underneath your fingernails. “I got carried away.”
Marko giggled, head canting to one side. “Apologizing for scratching the vampire,” He clicked his tongue, absentmindedly biting at the corner of his thumb before he cupped your chin. “You know how much I like it.” He reminded you, tracing your lower lip with the pad of his finger.
A sigh of relief escaped you, body damp with a layer of dewy perspiration. “So does Paul.” Paul enjoyed it when you choked him, too. Sometimes you worried you’d hurt them — even if it was an outlandish thought.
“He does love it,” Paul’s voice reverberated from the makeshift doorway, coat splattered in fresh bloodstains. Even his chin carried faint remnants of crimson, but his grin was more present than ever. “Are you gonna make it happen?” He asked.
You gawked at your mate, but Marko had some sly expression on his face. “Maybe when she’s done resting from us.” Marko interjected, careening into the sensation of your fingers perusing through his curls.
Paul huffed, letting out a soft ‘pfft’. “As long as you don’t break what’s mine, bud.” He mused, and sauntered away from the nest, leaving you and Marko alone once more. Much to Marko’s delight, you leaned into him, feeling his teeth snag along your jaw once more.
“I might break you,” Marko uttered, lips ghosting above the shell of your ear as his hand snuck in between your legs. You shivered, unable to bite back the throaty whimper that left you. “Just a little bit.”
POV: I actually put my Lost Boy Fics to paper instead of just daydreaming I’ve always dug the idea of the boys listening to the radio and hearing their mates voice
Hey team all these Smiling Critters x readers are platonic right cause the critters are children right so it would be weird for it to not be platonic/Sibling/Parental right team? RIGHT???????
Do I want a Lost Boys revival? Sure, but do I want it to be a musical? Really??? Being a musical theater fan, I'm cautiously optimistic, but I just wanted it to blow up on tik tok or something i just wanted more fanfic
hey netizens! i'm not sure how many people are aware, but youtube's been slowly rolling out a new anti-adblock policy that can't be bypassed with the usual software like uBlock Origin and Pi-Hole out of the gate
BUT, if you're a uBlock Origin user (or use an adblocker with a similar cosmetics modifier), you can add these commands in the uBlock dashboard (under My Filters) to get rid of it!
Ch: 2 The teenage hobby of making out [Promises] (s.h. x gn!reader)
Summary: Hopper is mad that his kids are kissing boys.
Word count: 5.8k
Warnings: use of (y/n), making out (lots of it), Suggestive, Steve Harrington being Steve Harrington i.e. lots of flirting, mentions of sex and some steaminess but no smut, lil bit of fluff, angst, sad stevie :(, sad reader :(, arguing, Hopper and reader being mean to each other, curse words.
A/n: omg bro i didn’t plan this chapter to be this sad but oh well. This one is kinda steamy ngl but no real smut or anything as the reader is gn! Anyway hope y'all liked that!! I will now start with the desi!reader fic so the next chapter for this series might take some time
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theartofmadeline
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