Tiny Writings

Multi-Chaptered Fics:

Rockabye Baby - SingleMom!Reader x Lost Boys

A polyamorous reader and Lost Boys fanfic. Will feature SingleMom™ reader, smutty times, graphic violence, blood, and copious amounts of angst.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

A Death Loop - Reader x Lost Boys

Found family trope with a twist. Includes horror-comedy themes, gender neutral reader, dark humor, several graphic descriptions of violence/death. (Hiatus)

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

A Students Guide to Raising the Dead - Reader x Lost Boys

Based on the Wattpad cliche of your favorite turning into an animal. Comedy horror, suggestive themes, graphic description of violence/death.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

A Killer Vacation - Poly!Ghostface x Reader x Poly!Lostboys

Roadtrip gone awry, one unfortunate accident leaves you with the ability to see the dearly departed. Who knew California had so many dead murderers hanging around? Dark and suggestive themes, graphic description of violence/death.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

One Shots/Short Fics: 

“I think I could fall in love with you” - Star and Lost Boys, platonic/mild David/Star

Boys coming to S/O’s house during self care day - Reader/Lost Boys

Stu scares you to help Billy - Reader/Poly!Ghostface

Yandere!lost boys when Reader tries to run - Reader/Lost Boys

Poly!lost boys where y/n is super skittish and easily intimidated but tries to act tough and fiesty kinda? - Reader/Lost Boys

Them helping their partner cause they still love to wear dresses so dudes flirt with them then when they say I’m a dude and it goes down hill - Reader/Lost Boys, David Centric

Curiosity Killed the Cat - Reader/Poly!Ghostface

Sadistic, flirty, "I'm going to eat you" Marko x a very horn-knee reader who reads too much Tumblr and is very into that - Reader/Marko, Reader/Lostboys

Marko x reader x paul cuddle session after hard day of work- hint of Poly!lostboys, mostly Paul/Reader/Marko

Reader stands up for Randy, accuses Stu and Billy of being killers, dark bullying - Reader/Poly!Ghostface

The Sin Bin: 

An Eye for an Eye - David x Reader

Being chosen as Marko’s dinner came with some perks.

For one, vampires were real. You could die happy with that knowledge in your back pocket. How many people had lived without knowing that? Not you, that’s for damn sure. Two, you now had friends. Sure, they were friends that wanted to eat you, but friends, nonetheless. And three?

You had friends that wanted to fuck you.

“There we go,” your fingers twined through soft blonde hair, “Suck me, baby.”

You’d just finished the first round of what you would call some extraordinary sex. While you hadn’t expected to spend the rest of your evening being literally wined and dined, you couldn’t quite complain. Marko may not have been up to quench your thirst that first night, but with the promise of a wet throat and pussy he’d been persuaded into correcting his thinking. It’d since led to something you might venture to call a thing.

Except this thing, wasn’t just with Marko.

The lips at your throat grimaced, “Don’t talk.”

You rolled your eyes with the confidence that he couldn’t see you. They all told you to shut up. Paul in particular liked to get creative with it. Meanwhile, the vampire at your throat continued to suck at your neck despite the disturbance, his fingers drawing up and down your body lackadaisically. He’d finished about ten minutes ago and judging from the field evidence you’d gathered thus far; he’d be good to go again in a few minutes.

“Fine, shit—” you gasped, fingers diving between your legs with a startling lack of empathy toward your overworked nerves, “It was supposed to be sexy—”

Scratch that, looks like he’s good to go now. His erection stabbed into your leg, wetness leaking from the tip and painting your skin as he rutted his hips against your own.

“It’s not,” David hummed. Your eyes squeezed shut as his fingers played along the sensitive skin of your thighs, sharp nails skittering over your skin with just the barest hint of pain, “You sound like a whore.”

That really shouldn’t have turned you on the way it did.

“More like your whore. Oh, that rhymed—” teeth slipped deeper into your skin without a speck of mercy, “Fuck, ow! You absolute shit—” whatever surely terrible thing you were about to say was trumped by David’s fingers sliding into you, “Never mind. I forgive you.”

It’d be hard not to with the way his fingers expertly glided through your warmth. With just a touch of ruthlessness, he dragged his calloused finger over your clit and pressed down hard. Propping himself up, he stared down at you as you twitched, one finger slipping into your already abused hole and then shortly after, another. He didn’t bother with slowly warming you up, using your still lingering wetness to guide his fingers deeper.

“Do you?” his fingers crooked, dragging down your inner walls and making you curse, “You shouldn’t.”

Sex with David was never kind, nor was his foreplay. As his hand picked up speed, your hips began to flex— chasing after the soft roar of an orgasm hiding behind your skin. David’s mouth arched into a thin smirk, his glacial eyes trailing down your naked skin with a faint taste of superiority. You curved your hips into the air, hand going around his wrist and squeezing, but it did nothing to slow the pleasure burning over your flesh. A third finger curved into your heat and that was it.

When you finally came, it felt like a religious revival.

“You—” air was trapped in your lungs, “You’re a god among men, David. A god.”

He didn’t immediately remove his hand, keeping his fingers tucked away inside of you. You didn’t have it in you to care. If he wanted to use you as a puppet all night, more power to him. He could slit your throat right now and you’d die with a cute little smile on your face. Letting your eyes fall shut, you took a heavy breath and let your shoulders relax.

The action didn’t go unnoticed.

“I don’t understand you,” he pulled back, staring over your sweaty skin with an emotion you weren’t familiar enough to identify. His hand found its way back to your throat and you tried to ignore the wetness coating his fingers, “We’re going to kill you. One day, I’m going to rip open your throat,” his hand fell atop the appendage in question, “And I’m not going to feel sorry for it.”

Ah yes, talk about sufficient aftercare. It took every ounce of your willpower not to roll your eyes. They were vampires for god’s sake, where was this sudden hard-on for virtue coming from?

“While I appreciate the concern,” at your smirk, his hand squeezed and you just barely stopped your eyes from fluttering, “I’m cool with this arrangement. I get orgasms, you guys get blood. If this is the death god planned for me, then I’ll get down on my knees all night.”

You weren’t going to think too much about the emotion that just flared across his face.

That’ll be a concern for future you. Current you was more focused on the sudden twitch of David’s dick against your leg. With a tired smile, you sent him a cheeky wink, eyeing the growing appendage with interest, “I totally pegged you for a corruption kink. Glad to know I was right.”

He released a huff of air that could be described as either a sigh or a laugh. With David, it was always a toss-up. Shaking his head in muted disgust, his hand trailed down your throat and to your chest, lithe fingers tweaking at your chest, “You’re incorrigible.”

“Big word—” he twisted his fingers, forcing you to arch your back as he tugged at your nipple, “Not an insult, a big vocabulary’s pretty hot.”

Once upon a time, he’d kill you for that. Now, he merely hummed as he crawled back over your body, “Is that why you salivate over Dwayne like you’re in heat?”

“Oh yeah, big words make brain go burr,” your own hands fell on his shoulders, nails digging into his pale flesh as you arched against his rutting erection. Your legs fell open without resistance, “Don’t knock it till you try it. Speaking of, are heats like a thing? I read some book—”

He didn’t give you a chance to finish your question.

Nearly draping himself over you, he hiked one of your legs up and over his hip. His dick dragged against your heat, and you melted, sinking into the sheets with a blissed sigh. Meanwhile, David’s hand crawled up your chest and found a home back around your throat. It kept you static as he slated his hips against your own, rucking his hard cock against your still wet entrance without a single thread of tenderness. He’d never been one for kindness but, as his fingers twined through your hair and snatched your neck to the side, you’d almost call him caring.

He knew you enjoyed a hint of fang with your orgasms.

Your own hands snaked over his back, a hiss caught in your throat as his erection slid over your sensitive skin and into your heat, “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Warn a gal, would you?”

He didn’t acknowledge your chastisement with anything more than a rough thrust of his hips. Keeping hold of your thigh, he angled your body higher— forcing a whine out of your throat as he drove his dick further into your heat.

“Shut up,” David’s lips were at your mouth, his breath hot against your face. Despite his words, you could hear the smirk in his tone, “You’re too loud. Do you want everyone to hear you?”

That wasn’t the threat he thought it was. Another whine tore out of your throat— equal parts due to the new angle he held you at and the idea of one of his friends walking in on you. You’d had them one at a time— but together? A flush built over your chest, and you slammed your eyes shut, a needy moan working its way out of your lungs and saturating the air.

“Fuck me,” you whined again, nails biting into his skin as your stomach swooned, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

As his hips continued to plow into you, you could feel him lift his head off your face and the action made you groan, tilting your neck in wanton offering. If you could focus past the flood of sensation happening down below, you might have caught the way he was staring at you, something he very rarely did during your Friday night fuck fests.

“David—” you gasped, question turning into a whine as his hand left your thigh and snuck between your bodies.

You weren’t given a chance to ponder his intentions. Before you could fully appreciate the change in pace, David’s hips slowed to a deep, thorough pace. It wasn’t enough. The fire building in your veins began to temper, your long-sought orgasm falling to a simmering boil. You cursed, eyes snapping open just in time to see his face descend toward yours.

The kiss wasn’t kind. With the added force of his insistent thrust, David kissed you like he wanted to devour you. His tongue skirted the edge of your lip, sharp fangs dragging over the sensitive flesh in muted warning. The hand he still had wrapped around your throat squeezed, a subtle sign to open your mouth.

It didn’t take you long to understand why.

The first thing you registered was the warmth. The next thing was the taste. It was unlike anything you’d ever tasted before. The faintest taste of vanilla and iron intermixed with a tinge of musk— something feral and dark hidden in the undertones. The liquid swept into your mouth like a dribbling facet, and without conscious thought, you chased after it like a man possessed.

Cradling David’s face, you moaned into his mouth— the taste of his kiss forcing your orgasm to flare up to its previous strength, your legs clenching over his waist as fire boiled in your veins and made your heartburn. It finally crested as he released your mouth, trailing his sharp teeth down your jaw and latching onto the flushed skin of your neck.

You came with a scream.

As your second orgasm of the night raged through your defenses, David offered no quarter. His hips continued to drill into your own, desperately chasing after his own pleasure and using your body as his own. You could feel heat dripping down your neck and soaking the sheets beneath you, his lips attacking your skin with a fervor he’d yet to entertain. It was messy, raw and when he finally finished, he did so inside of you.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You could still taste vanilla and iron and it forced you to lick your lips. You frowned, blinking up at the man above you. Without the taint of David’s mouth, it didn’t taste nearly as good.

As your post-orgasmic bliss began to fade, you tried to piece together everything that you didn’t understand, “David— what was that?”

A trace of the mysterious liquid spilled over your lip, and you brought a hand up to catch it. It was cool to the touch now but just as thick as it was when he’d fed it into your mouth. David didn’t speak. He merely watched you, an unidentifiable expression masking his face. Pulling your hand back to try and identify the strange taste, all the air whooshed out of your chest with realization.

You stared at him, but for once, words wouldn’t come.

Working a dead-end job at Blockbuster didn’t leave you with many expectations.

So, when you walked out of the backroom to start your shift and caught sight of the spectacle in front of you, you weren’t really surprised. Randy’s mouth had a bad habit of getting him into trouble and Stu was always loud. That was normal. Relatively easily handled.

No, it was the introduction of Billy Loomis that had your teeth on edge.

One second the group was calm, the next— Randy was cornered. Billy had a hand fisting his shirt and Stu’s arms were wrapped over his shoulders, caging the smaller man between them.

You were rolling your cart over before you could think better of it. While you couldn’t hear what they were saying, you knew it was serious when Billy caught your approach— his dark, piercing eyes scalding your skin as he narrowed them on your face. He didn’t immediately release Randy’s shirt, but as you got closer, he retracted.

“Back off, Loomis,” you weren’t sure what you walked into, but you knew the way Billy held Randy promised trouble, “The hell are you doing? What is this, kindergarten?”

There was a long series of silence as all three boys stared at one another. Billy smirked, a worrying thing as he held his hands up in a surrendering motion. He took several slow steps back, “Nothing. Didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

You didn’t know Billy and Stu the way Randy did, but you knew enough to know Billy wasn’t happy. He was smiling, but there was no mirth in the expression. It made your skin crawl dangerously, something like primal warning ringing in your head. He scared you, more than you wanted to admit.

Randy huffed, taking a step back and fixing the collar of his shirt with a shaking hand, “We’re fine. They’re just being dicks.”

Stu giggled, rubbing a rough hand over Randy’s hair before he followed Billy’s footsteps, “Sorry, Y/N! We’ll keep our hands to ourselves!”

They didn’t stick around long enough to hear your response. You weren’t sure if you should pretend to feel offended when all you truly felt was relief. They didn’t leave the store, but they hovered on the opposite side, away from your cart.

Trailing your stare to Randy, you raised a judging brow, “What was that about?”

“Billy’s the killer,” Randy grumbled, fixing his shirt again and scoffing when he couldn’t flatten out the wrinkles, “He’s got the whole shtick down. He’s gonna kill his girlfriend and get away with it.”

As Randy vented, you listened, halfheartedly doing your job as you put the VHS tapes into their spots. The longer you paid attention, the more it made sense. Randy made several valid points, and his logic wasn’t far off, especially considering the spectacle you’d walked in on in the thriller section. You paused in your work, an idea latching itself inside your head.

“I think you’re right but consider this—” you dipped your voice into a whisper, “It’s them.”

“No way,” Randy retorted. He pursed his lips, watching the boys in question, “Seriously? You think it’s both of them?”

Carefully, you titled your head to look at the people in question. It wasn’t hard to spot them— inconspicuousness never really their strong suit. Three rows ahead of you and a row to the left, Stu Macher and Billy Loomis were engaged in whispered small talk in front of the horror section. They looked normal, but if you looked just past the surface, you’d see it.

There was something off about the two of them.

“Seriously,” you hissed, stabbing your pencil against the desk, “First Casey Becker and then Sidney? That’s more than suspicious, that’s evidence.”

Randy whispered, his eyes locked on the two boys, “Why do you think it’s both of them?”

“It’s obvious,” you mapped it out with your hands, drawing them through the air as you explained, “Stu killed Casey and Steve out of revenge, and knowing that he’d be the first suspect, Billy went after Sidney to throw the cops off. He didn’t kill her— but it made them drop their search into Stu.”

“But why Sidney?” Randy finally cracked, dropping his gaze down to frown at you, “That’s fucked up.”

“Because Sidney and Stu are friends and Billy’s familiar with her house. He knew how to get in,” you explained, “It couldn’t have been Tatum— that’d make Stu even more suspicious, but it needed to be someone Stu knew so the blame would be off him. People can believe he’d kill out of jealousy, but anything other than that? No, not Stu.”

Randy scooted closer, trying to whisper but ultimately failing, “Why?”

“Because he’s him. He’s the perfect killer,” you watched said boy under your lashes, cataloging the way his shoulders shook when he laughed, “Everyone thinks he’s stupid, but he’s not. Not to mention the dude’s huge.”

Silence fell over your table and you caught Randy shooting the boy in a question a strange look. He fiddled with a misplaced VHS tape, “You really think Stu killed them?”

“Not just him,” you corrected, “It had to be both of them. The time of death—”

Someone’s made a noise and you jerked, explanation cut short as you turned toward the interruption. Arms outstretched over his head, Stu leaned back and stretched. Blue eyes met your own and ice sank into your veins.

You couldn’t place the expression he wore. It wasn’t one you’d ever had directed toward you and as your stare drew over the planes of Stu’s face, you realized why. The expression he wore was one you’d seen on your father’s face, in the squinted lines of his brow as he stared down the barrel of a rifle, the flank of a deer only just visible behind a dry bush.

Bile caught in your throat and you swallowed, face suddenly cool.

The skin over Stu’s brow tightened, his usually wild stare suddenly too calm. He tracked his attention down your face and over your neck before a languid smile dented his cheeks. The white sheen of his teeth sparkled under the fluorescent lights as he laughed, loud and hard. It was a grating sound, too much like a mocking jeer than a true expression of amusement.

It caught Billy’s attention and you soon found yourself nailed under both boys’ stares.

While Stu eventually turned his attention back to the videos, Billy didn’t. He watched you like it was his God-given right. You had no doubt he’d overheard you. Unwillingly, your hand began to shake, fingers tightening over your cart handle to halt the unwelcome weakness. Billy’s head tilted, his slicked-back hair falling onto his forehead as he looked at your hand and smirked.

You weren’t sure how long the stare-down lasted, but you were more than ready to get the hell out of dodge. Randy gave you a pitying look before rolling his VHS cart down the next aisle, effectively leaving you alone.

Throwing yourself back into your assigned task, you started to shove the tapes into their assigned spots. It was a worthy effort, but fate had other plans. Before you could even fully begin, a voice was at your back, “What were you saying, Y/N?”

Hands landed on your hips, a sudden smell of expensive cologne taking over the air. Before you could fully grasp just who stood behind you, their fingers dug into your skin and your hand twitched, VHS tapes skittering to the floor.

A customer shot you a worried look but didn’t linger. With the full force of Billy Loomis at your back, you couldn’t find it in yourself to blame her.

“You think we’re the killers too?” Narrow hips slotted against your back, “How much is Randy paying you to suck his dick?”

Before you could think better of it, you stepped forward and shot the boy at your back a look, “Fuck off, Loomis. It wasn’t anything serious. We’re allowed to talk. You don’t have to be such a dick—”

The noise in the store began to filter out, taking with it the remnants of your confidence. Shooting one last look at the door, you managed to catch the back of Randy’s coat as he stepped into the backroom. Billy didn’t move and dread nestled in your stomach.

“Are you?” Billy trailed his gaze up to your neck, a smirk pinching his cheeks as he finished, “What do you think, Stu?”

“I don’t know, Billy,” Stu was suddenly there, a dangerous grin twisting his features, “Seemed a little more than talking. You got a thing for him?” Stu pouted dramatically, “Is he eating your pussy?”

You snapped your head over your shoulder, “Fuck—"

Thin fingers grabbed you by the jaw, “Now, now,” Billy leaned into your personal space, the hand not holding your face propping against the row of tapes and caging you against his chest, “Let’s take a second to cool down. I think we need to talk, Y/N.”

“I don’t think we do,” the floor creaked as Stu stepped toward you, but Billy wouldn’t let you turn your head, “You can let go of me.”

“Not yet,” Billy smiled, a slow and languid grin. It would have been charming, had there been even a speck of emotion in it. His fingers trailed down your face, eventually coming to cup your neck under your jaw, “Stu, what’d you hear them say?”

“They said we’re the killers,” Stu was at your back, his hands crawling up your sides and caging your arms against your waist. There was no slack in his grip, “Said I killed Casey and Steve and you used Sidney as a distraction,” warm lips met your ear as Stu pouted, “That’s a big accusation, babe.”

Your heart lurched, “I didn’t—"

“Don’t try to lie,” Billy’s hand clenched, his short nails digging into your skin, “It’s too late for that. You really think I’d hurt Sidney? Come on, Y/N, you know me better than that. I’m not a killer.”

“We’re not killers,” Stu continued, his own hands following Billy’s example and clamping tighter against your skin. It hurt, but you weren’t brave enough to mention it, “I didn’t kill Casey.”

Saliva caught in your throat, and you licked your lips, “Understood. I won’t joke about it again—”

“Not sure that’s good enough,” Billy sighed, removing his hand from his throat and dragging it through his hair. His dark stare never left your face, “You’re going around and spreading rumors that you can’t back up.”

The room was too cold, but your face was hot. Goosebumps sprung up over your arms and down your chest. The clock on the back of the wall clicked in time with the seconds, drawing your attention away from Billy. It was the wrong thing to do.

“I’m not—” By the time you turned back to the conversation, Billy had moved. Something sharp and cold landed at the base of your throat, and you froze, eyes going wide, “Fuck.”

“Not yet, babe,” Stu leered into your ear, his hot breath coasting down your neck, “You have to ask real nice for that.”

The knife Billy had pressed against your throat trailed down your chest, the pointed edge digging into above your heart, “You know if we were the killer,” the knife dug into your shirt, almost tearing open the fabric as he trailed it down to your stomach, “You’d be in a lot of trouble right now. An empty store, no one here to hear you scream. That’s how it is in the movies,” he leaned into your space and smiled, “The nosey bitch dies first.”

“But this isn’t the movies,” Stu hummed, his arms going tight as he pulled you back into his chest, “Right, Billy?”

“Right,” Billy smiled, the corners of his mouth curling in amusement as you squeezed your eyes shut. He dragged the knife lower, using the sharpened tip to lift your shirt and settle the metal against your feverish skin, “And we’re not killers. Are we, Y/N?”

You nodded your head softly, keeping your eyes shut to avoid looking into the face of the monster in front of you. You didn’t suspect he wanted a verbal answer, which was good. It would be impossible for you to speak— the cool edge of Billy’s knife was skirting over your sensitive flesh and just one wrong move or too deep of a breath would split the skin.

Despite your assumptions, it seemed Stu wasn’t satisfied.

“Come on, Y/N,” Stu grinned into your neck, his hands letting go of your arms to grab you by the head, fingers digging into your cheeks as he twisted your head up and up— forcing you to open your eyes. “Say you’re sorry.”

You swallowed, Billy’s eyes tracking the movement of your throat as you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“What was that?” Stu’s fingers squeezed, making your lips purse as he used his hold on your face to twist your attention back to him. The sight of his smile had your stomach roiling, “Couldn’t hear you, babe.”

“Ma surrey—” you repeated, the strength of Stu’s grip making the apology slurred.

Your struggle humored him. Mirth lit his eyes and a satisfied grin carved through his cheeks. His echoing laughter made your heart lurch, humiliation burning up your spine. Even Billy chuckled behind you. Tears built in your eyes, and you squeezed them shut, heat flooding your cheeks and making your throat tight.

It was your third mistake of the afternoon.

Without letting go of your face, Stu leaned in and smacked a wet kiss against your mouth.

You lurched, but Billy caught you. His arms wrapped around your waist, forcing you to still as Stu assaulted your mouth. As Stu’s tongue pried your lips open, your tears finally fell. There was no finesse in the kiss— he wasn’t doing it out of love or interest. He was doing it out of violence, and you could feel it in every stroke of his tongue.

Yet it wasn’t the violence that scared you. It was the slow drag of interest his advances were dragging out of your chest. The heady mix of fear and adrenaline making your chest hot. Stu’s fingers dragged up your cheeks and twisted into your hair, the grip insistent and unyielding. It was wrong, but it was there.

A humiliated whine lurched in your throat but never escaped.

You weren’t sure how long it lasted. But by the time Stu pulled back, your lips were swollen, and your face was wet with tears. He let go of your face, stepping back with overdone swagger— his wild stare crawling over your bruised cheeks and wet lips with glee. There was something wrong with his expression.

It was rabid.

Feral.

“That was hot, babe,” without a hint of grace, Stu adjusted himself in his pants, grinning when he caught your attention, “Better than Tatum and she gives some really great head.”

The dig at his girlfriend went in one ear and out the other. Adrenaline left you alone and humiliated. You licked your lips, tasting spit and mint. It was enough to finally send you over the edge.

Free from his hold, you tucked into yourself, trying to hide the stream of tears beginning to trickle over your face and down your neck. He said something else, but you weren’t listening. There was a worrying coldness building in your chest and it sank into your bones, weighing you down and making it hard to breathe.

A sob managed to escape, making both boys turn their attention back to you.

“Come on, don’t cry,” Stu pouted. His palm was back on your cheek, making you flinch. The action did not go unnoticed, “I’m not that bad of a kisser.”

It was said teasingly, but there was a hint of threat tied into the reprimand. Your eyes were hot, shivers racking up your spine as you whispered, “I’m sorry,” you repeated again and again, tears drying on your cheeks, “I’m sorry. Please let me—”

You just wanted to leave.

“Shhh,” Billy wrapped his arms around your back in a mockery of a hug, “We forgive you.”

Fear made you desperate, “Please—”

His arms were too warm, too tight. The leather jacket he always wore scratched at your feverish skin, its scent overwhelming your throat and making it that much harder to breathe. He’d put the knife up, but you could feel it against your back, the heavy wooden handle pressing into your skin through the pocket of his jeans.

“Uh-oh,” Stu teased, his voice drawing out into a jeer, “Just broke horror movie rule number two. You’re on a roll, babe.”

There was just enough warning in his tone to have you react. You jerked your head up, catching Stu’s eye before he winked, sticking his tongue out in a manner better saved for porn. It had you flushing— the lingering trace of humiliation eating up your spine from his advances.

“That’s right, Stu,” Billy whispered against your ear, “You never beg the killers for mercy.”

Stu smiled, wide and dangerous. It cut into his cheeks so sharply, it put the Cheshire Cat to shame, “Good thing we aren’t the killing type, huh?”

“Exactly,” you could feel Billy smile against your neck. It scared you more than you’d like to admit, “It’s a good thing. Right, Y/N?”

Logically, you knew it had to be a trick. But you had little choice in your acceptance. Your blood pounded in your ears, tears burning behind your eyes as you squeezed them shut, “You’re right. You’re not killers.”

Billy’s arms tightened and you had the sinking suspicion you’d done something he found intriguing. You couldn’t for the life of you understand what that might be, but the little huff of amusement he released against your throat promised dangerous, dangerous things.

“We’re not what?” Stu teased, humor in his tone. His eyes skewered lazily down your body like he was cataloging the best way to devour you, “I couldn’t hear you, babe. You really got to speak up, unless—” Stu sauntered forward, his blue eyes trailing down your face and latching onto your lips with devious interest, “You need my help?”

Billy chuckled, the air hot against your skin. The noise worried you. Billy didn’t laugh easily, but when he did—

“I said—” you swallowed, stuttering over your words as you shivered, “I said you’re not killers.”

Billy chuckled again and it sent a wave of warning coasting over your shoulders. He caught Stu’s eye over your shoulder, never once letting you go, “There we go,” Billy’s hand drew over your hair, catching the sweat on the back of your neck as he mockingly cooed, “You’re a quick learner.”

But when Billy did laugh, it meant he’d found something he liked.

You never thought you’d come to view this cave as home.

It was barely past sunset, so there wasn’t a lot of light to guide you through the entryway. Ducking under a spiderweb, the familiar hum of bass music and sticky sweet smoke had you moving faster than you could think to consider the arachnid. David and Dwayne were nowhere to be seen, but you spotted a familiar figure sprawled out over the couch and eyeing the space between his body and the cushions, you climbed in.

It smelled like blood, but you thought it best to ignore it.

Taking hold of the only source of warmth, you pulled the rattan blanket over your head, nuzzling deeper into the threadbare couch. It’d been a rough day at work. Beyond rough, really. You’d put up with a lot in your dead end job, but today surpassed anything you’d dealt with before— even last years Black Friday rush.

The body sharing the couch huffed when you moved, Paul’s voice hoarse as he drawled, “Babe? That you?”

“No,” you mumbled, dipping your chin against the cold skin of his neck, “Go back to sleep.”

“I’m not sleeping—“

“Yes, you are. Now shhh,” you brought the covers over his head too, throwing a leg over his hips and settling against his back, “I want to nap.”

Paul made an amused noise, but didn’t speak again. Instead, he turned. Where you were once cradling his back, you were now pressed tightly against his chest. One hand gripped your thigh while the other swept over the back of your neck and twisted its fingers into your hair. You made an affronted noise, but he only smiled— his lips gracing the shell of your ear with heat.

You sighed, “Paul. No.”

“I’m not doing anything,” despite the reassurance, his hand drew up your thigh and around your waist, “M’just holding you.”

While you would love to believe that, you knew better, “Hands above the covers.”

“Mmmm,” he drawled, ease making his voice lax, “But you’re so warm.”

He left you no choice but to double down, “Paul. Hands.”

While you couldn’t see it due to your positions, you could practically feel his suspicion bubbling. You knew why. This was out of the norm for your relationship. It wasn’t often you turned down his advances, as cuddling with Paul usually only led to one thing and one thing only. But you just didn’t have it in you tonight. You wanted something soft.

You knew better.

They didn’t care about hearing you bitch. While you loved and cherished the boys, you knew their interests lied in more trivial pursuits. When a problem rose, they preferred the quick solution. There wasn’t a lot of leniency for codling. That didn’t stop you from siphoning the little comfort you could without having to explain yourself.

“You okay?” You could feel him blink, his eyelashes tickling your chin, “You’re acting weird, babe.”

Despite the concern hiding in his question, you couldn’t help but grumble, “Yes, Jesus. Just go back to sleep, it’s nothing—“

Before you could suffocate yourself in further self pity, the blanket covering your face was unceremoniously pulled down. You squinted, annoyance building at the sight of curls and an impish grin hovering above you.

“You know we don’t sleep,” Marko propped his hands on the back of the couch, looking down at you with something you might call worry, “Bad day at work?”

You had no idea where he’d come from. Nor had you heard him approach. It was a gift all the boys had, but only Marko and David went out of their way to evade detection. You knew it had something to do with their individual preferences— specifically Davids superiority complex and Marko’s taste for chaos.

That knowledge didn’t stop you from shooting him a petulant glare, “No—“ Paul’s fingers pinched the sensitive skin at your side and you immediately corrected, “Okay, yes, but it doesn’t matter.”

Marko lifted a brow, the expression strangely elegant, “It matters if it upset you.”

“Yeah, babe,” Paul nuzzled deeper into the curve of your jugular, nearly squeezing you too tight as he hugged your body close, “Tell us about it.”

It was a tempting offer. It’d feel beyond good to rant about the ridiculous work load your manager had saddled you with, to complain about the new hire who couldn’t stop staring at your ass, or shit— even going off about the regular who’d only tipped you twenty five cents would have been an improvement. Except, you knew without a doubt, that once you spoke, this would end.

They may not care about the subtleties of empathy, but your boys sure did know how to erase a problem. Or in your specific case, several problems.

“It’s stupid, just a bunch of stuff,” you said instead, wrapping your arms around Paul’s neck with a longing sigh, “Can we just pretend you guys sleep and cuddle for an hour? I’m exhausted.”

Paul smiled, the action warm against your skin, “I can do that, but I’m keeping my hands under the blanket.”

“Ugh,” you huffed but didn’t protest, even as his cool fingers skittered up your shirt and trailed over the sweaty skin on your back, “Whatever. Just don’t get any ideas.”

“Babe, I’ve always got ideas—“

He didn’t get a chance to finish before a body hurdled itself over the couch. Landing inelegantly on top of Paul’s shoulder and your back, Marko sprawled over the both of you. He hadn’t tried to be gentle, but you were pleased to notice most of the rough housing was saved for Paul. Curls fell into your face, but you weren’t able to move them.

“Sorry,” Marko grinned down at you, twisting and rolling just enough to situate himself behind your back and against the sofa cushions, “I’m tired too.”

“Yeah, I caught that,” you raised a sardonic brow, ignoring Paul’s grumbling as you finished, “Think you could get off the blanket, though? I’m kind of stuck here.”

He nodded, lifting his hips just enough for the blanket to get untwisted. All the while, he braced himself up with one hand behind your head, careful not to pull at your hair or suffocate you with his chest. You wouldn’t say it was the most romantic gesture in the world, but it sure did have you feeling some type of way.

Paul scoffed, pulling the blanket out from Marlo’s legs, “You’re stuck? I’m about to fall off this damn thing— and this is my couch!”

Despite his complaint, Paul made sure there was enough room for all three of you. His arms stayed firmly wrapped around your waist, but Paul twisted just enough the he was laying more underneath you than beside you. Sandwiched between the two boys, you could feel Marko’s chest move as he chuckled, his fingers trailing over the sensitive skin of your arm before he rested his chin against the back of your shoulder.

“Suck it up, Paul,” Marko teased, taking the blanket and pulling it over his hips and subsequently your own, “Should have chosen a bigger couch.”

Paul growled, a playful little sound, “I’ll show you bigger—“

Their bickering continued without your input, but you couldn’t stop the smile growing over your face at the familiar sound. It didn’t matter that you were suddenly too hot, it didn’t matter that your back was going to hate you tomorrow morning. No, the only thing that mattered was this.

Nails dug into the skin of your scalp, lithe fingers twisting into your hair and yanking your neck to the side. A surprised laugh caught in your throat, bending into a moan as he lowered his head into the curve of your neck. Marko’s mouth opened against your skin, surprisingly sharp teeth dragging over your fevered flesh and up your jugular.

“That’s it,” warm lips coasted your jaw, “Yeah. I’m going to fucking devour you.”

The chilled air of the cavern he’d used as a ruse to get you alone skittered up your back and gooseflesh spread across your skin. When you shivered, he laughed, pressing your body harder against the stone wall at your back. You could hear his friends in the background, rock music creeping through the small cave you’d disappeared into.

“I—” teeth dug into your lower lip as your fingers tangled themselves in Marko’s long curls, “I can’t—”

You could feel his smile, sharp against your skin, “Can’t what? Speak?”

The hand he’d wrapped around your waist coasted lower, fingers gripping the fleshy skin of your thigh and squeezing hard. You weren’t given a chance to moan before his mouth descended on your own, tugging your hips against his after kicking your leg out of the way. Marko didn’t hesitate to nestle into the space between your thighs.

You panted instead, allowing his teasing to wash over your chest like honey, “I don’t—”

“Let me guess, you don’t do this?” He twisted your declaration around, his fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to bruise. He hiked his hips up against your own, laughing at the groan echoing over the damp cave, “You don’t always pant like a whore?”

He really nailed this dirty talk thing. You’d give it five stars and a solid Yelp review.

It was too much. Your breath caught in your throat, tears building in your eyes as warmth nestled deep behind your belly button, “Oh, my god. Yes.”

“Shut up,” angular hips rutted against your own, pleasure forcing your mouth open into a wordless gasp. Marko’s mouth sank back onto yours, sharp teeth pulling against the tender flesh of your lip before he laughed, “You’re so easy. It’s almost sad.”

That made you peek an eye open.

It was a cruel laugh, tinted in ease and mockery. More of a victorious chuckle than a genuine expression of humor. The giggle nearly choked you as he grinned into your mouth. With a final brutal bite against your lip, he pulled back as his hands crawled up your body and wrapped over your shoulders. From your position in his arms, you were given a first-seat view of how his face began to turn.

“You—” your voice trailed off, hands falling against his sternum as something heavy built in the base of your chest, “You’re a vampire."

It was horrifying. The way human skin shed away to become a monster. Angles grew where there had once been none, eyes once hazel flashed a burnt orange, and fangs descended from a plush mouth. It should have been disgusting, but instead, your legs tightened around his waist.

“Smart pet,” jagged and undoubtedly lethal, his fangs gleamed as Marko smiled down at your flushed face, “You better run.”

It was a great idea, but it wasn’t what you wanted.

You could hear your heart beating in your ears, the sound echoing through your brain with enough power to render you deaf. Where you knew you should feel fear, instead an odd feeling crawled over your flesh and prickled your skin with anticipation. It was so wrong, but a flush of interest crawled up your spine and draped over your nerves with something that was definitely not fear.

You’d read stories about this moment.

Fanfictions that detailed the sweet pain of needle-like teeth dipping into your flesh. Your attention fell back to those dangerous fangs, and you forced yourself to swallow as you stared at them, heat crawling up your chest and making your thoughts dance dangerously close to self-sacrifice. You wondered if the bite would make you cum.

Even if it didn’t, you knew without thinking that it would feel really good.

His teeth gleamed in the shadows, and you swallowed to ease your drying throat, “That’s hot.”

The sound of music was all you could hear as his hands tightened against your shoulders. You could tell it wasn’t what he expected to hear by the twitch of his fingers. Marko bent his head closer to yours, watching with incredulity as your stare flicked down his face and focused on his lips, “What did you say?”

“I’m into it,” heat made your cheeks burn, “Look, you can bite me. Take a good sip, but come on, let me finish,” fingers clenched over his jacket as you very nearly groaned, “Please.”

Before you could stop yourself, your hips flexed against his own. The heat that had been building during the whole encounter was suddenly too much. Pressing your chest against his, you tried to tilt your face up to his own, chasing a kiss that wasn’t coming. As his body turned into stone, you barely resisted the urge to stomp your foot.

“You want me to," Marko’s hands flexed, grip nearly going slack as he stared down at you, “What?”

“Bite me,” You repeated, tilting your head and baring your neck for good measure. Subtlety wasn’t working. It seemed you had to take a more direct approach, “It’s fine. I’m not afraid of needles or anything like that.”

If he had eyebrows in this form, you knew without a sliver of doubt they’d be attached to his hairline. His hands fell from your shoulders, and you nearly growled as he took a step back, “You’re asking me to bite you?”

You didn’t think it should be this difficult to comprehend. One plus one equals two and vampire plus neck equals sexy.

“Yes,” you bared your teeth, motioning to your neck almost frantically. The earlier buzz of pleasure had all but faded. At this point, your insistence was more due to pure stubbornness and irritation at the ruined orgasm, “You said you would.”

To be fair, he said he’d devour you. While you’d initially assumed that to mean he intended to feast upon your lower half, you weren’t too mad with the plot twist. If only he would get with the program. God, it’d be just your luck to get shackled with the vampire fighting off a moral compass.

Marko’s face went through several emotions in the span of a second before he settled on shaking his head, “I can tear you apart with one hand—”

“Then quit wasting time and do it,” you countered with a click of your teeth. You rolled your wrist in a silent gesture to get on with it, “I’m down for rough sex. Blood play’s cool too, but if we start getting into more than that, I’ll need a safe word.”

The declaration only served to make him frown, taking another slow step back, “I’ll kill you."

“As long as I finish first,” when he didn’t budge, you threw your arms up, “What was the point of this then? You were just going to kill me before I got off?”

“I—” Marko barely just managed to blink, “Are you serious?”

“Yes!” You stepped away from the wall, crossing your arms over your chest in indignation, “You left me hanging. I don’t give a shit if I die— we’re all dead anyway,” you scoffed, “But I do give a damn about my orgasms, and you just ruined a really fucking good one.”

He stared at you for a long time. Seconds clicked into minutes. It was enough to work your nerves back into a frenzy and you had to quell the superficial urge to smooth your hair down. You didn’t think it was that odd of a request, but his reaction had your opinion faltering. When he eventually broke the silence, you nearly jumped.

“Hey!” Marko yelled, turning his back on you as he marched toward the exit, “I need help!”

You gaped at his back, incredulous. How did he need help? He wasn’t the one getting edged on the chopping block!

“No, we don’t!” You argued, grabbing at Marko’s sleeve before he tried to walk back out to the main cave segment, “We’re fine— don’t make such a big deal out of a little bite—”

Marko didn’t let you catch him, but he did twist his wrist back to snag you by the arm. Tugging you through the small entrance you’d snuck down for a quick fuck, he pulled you under the low overhang and into the main section of the cave. It was still night out, so the main cavern remained dark, but in your absence, his friends had lit a few candles and placed them sporadically across the room.

The small hint of light allowed you to see how all three of them were watching you with a variety of expressions. It made a part of you anxious, while another more salacious shadow began to crawl to the surface of your psyche.

“You take them,” Marko all but shoved you into a man’s chest. You weren’t overly familiar with him, but you recognized the dark hair from many a night at the boardwalk. You thought his name was Dwayne, “I can’t do this. They’re insane.” He cut you a strange look before he shivered, “Food shouldn’t talk.”

You scoffed. That was rude and quite frankly uncalled for.

“Food? You go from humping my leg to calling me food?” The dark-haired one’s hands flexed on your shoulders, something like a snort crawling out of his throat and you turned your glare on him, “Are you a vampire too? Is this a like a— what is it— oh! An orgy cave?”

There was a movie about that once. You think.

Dwayne stared at you, his hands falling off your shoulders with a hard shake of the head, “I’m not doing this.”

Without a second glance at you, he stalked toward the left side of the room and observed. You caught Marko throwing his hand at you in an empathizing gesture, but your attention was snatched by a new figure crawling out of his chair and sauntering toward you. He walked in the same way Marko did— feline and graceful, like gods of old.

You knew his name. You’d watched him for a while.

David’s stare drew over you, glacial eyes narrowing before he turned to Marko, “When did you tell them?”

“Just now,” he huffed, plopping his butt onto a flat-looking couch, “What do you do with the crazy ones?”

“I’m not crazy,” you snapped back. You forced yourself to ignore David’s scrutinization, “All I wanted was an orgasm. Not my fault you ruined it by prematurely fanging.”

It was a struggle not to snarl when Marko rolled his eyes. You weren’t sure when he’d lost the vampire persona, but with its disappearance so went the rest of your libido. Wasn’t that great. It was a terrible time for a new kink to occur. Maybe if you got out of this in one piece, you’d explore that further.

“The hell is that?” The one previously introduced as Paul cackled, his arms sprawled over the back of the couch Marko sat in, “Come on man, don’t tell me you—”

“Shut the fuck up, Paul, ” Marko swung his hand through the air, smacking Paul in the shoulder. Hard.

You would have laughed but your attention was snagged by the man in front of you.

“You’re not scared?” The platinum blonde man stepped into your space, a smile as sweet as sin darkening his face, “We could destroy you. Rip your scalp right off your head, leave you bleeding out and decaying on the floor—”

You lifted a hand in a gesture for him to stop. Ignoring the victorious expression that crawled over David’s face, you scrunched your nose in distaste. You’d really rather the conversation go back to biting and exploring possible avenues of vampire sex. Necrophilia just wasn’t your cup of tea.

“Okay, that’s a bit dramatic,” you eventually deadpanned, “If you’re going to kill me, get on with it. I have work in the morning and I need to know if I need to shower.”

It wasn’t an alibi. It was an honest concern. Judging from the infrastructure you’d seen so far, you heavily doubted they had hot water here.

“You think you’re brave?” Before you could blink, a taloned hand was streaking through the air. David latched onto your wrist with enough force to hurt and you didn’t have the chance to hide your pained yelp.

“God, ow—” you grit out through clenched teeth, shooting the haughty man in front of you a dark glower, “I prefer the term pragmatic. Take my blood or break my neck, anything else is excessive.”

Dwayne spoke this time, his voice tinted in what could possibly be labeled as confusion, “You want to die?”

“Not really,” you winced as David squeezed your wrist once before releasing you. Cradling the sore appendage to your chest, you huffed, “But if it’s coming down to it, it’s a never-ending dark abyss versus taxes. Which one do you think is gonna win here?”

Paul laughed in the background and nudged Marko with an elbow, but you weren’t kidding. Not only did you have taxes to consider, but there was a growing pile of student loans and credit card debt with your name on it. You didn’t even have a cat to go home to. If you couldn’t get involved in the vampire orgy, the least they could do was offer you a way out of your misery.

David smiled, the movement slow and languid as he took a slow step toward you, “Interesting."

Your little declaration was apparently just what he hoped to hear.