#erics muscle cars

[ericsmusclecars]

COMING SOON FOR SALE !

2023 CORVETTE Z06 2LZ

15 MILES

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

The Iron Lung is a Bubbletop Show Rod built by Eric "Eerie Eric" Goodrich of Buffalo, New York.

[pickingupmymercedes]

The things we do for fashion - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

request: "Hey, drop something happy and sexy to get over this terrible weekend with Lewis in merc with that terrible strategy and that bad tire performance, burn that car pls. Thank you" - anon

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: unprotected sexual activities, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie.

Also, wrap it before you tap it

wordcount: +1K

a/n: Cutesy and fun smut, little to no plot, as all my smuts tend to be. Also, been gone (with food poisoning) but this request had to be written.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT.

______________________________________________________________

You started it without any intention for it to end like it did. An innocent clean-up of his spare closet was all it was meant to be. But, living with Lewis was seldom your typical experience, and things with him had a knack for turning into something else entirely within a matter of minutes.

You had the day off and your self-appointed task of the day was relatively simple: get Lewis's paddock outfits out of the boxes Eric had shipped them in and organize them on the racks so Lewis could see the full fit. It should have taken you less than two hours, ample time to spare until Lewis returned from the factory. At least, that's what you thought.

In the middle of the room, you sat surrounded by half-open boxes and only a few racks filled when you heard Lewis call out from the entrance of his London home.

"Hey, love! How's it going in here?"

You scrambled to your feet, pushing aside the box you were sorting through and greeted him with a sheepish smile. "Uh, not quite as planned, to be honest."

Lewis chuckled as he walked over to you, glancing at the mess of boxes and clothes. "Mind if I have a look at what you've got so far?"

"Go ahead, just…it's not finished yet." you said, a little embarrassed.

Lewis began to sift through the clothes, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he pulled out some of the pieces he recalled were his favorites.

"Oh, I've been looking forward this one!" he exclaimed, holding up a vibrant red jacket. "And these trousers! I can't wait to wear this combo."

He continued to go through the clothes, commenting on each piece he was excited to wear. The excitement in his voice infectious, getting you to instantly smile at his enthusiasm.

As he reached the bottom of one of the boxes, his hand paused on a piece of clothing. A black sleeveless turtleneck, skin-tight and oh so sleek.

"Oh, I love this one," you whispered, unable to hide your admiration.

A subtle shift occurred in Lewis's expression. His eyes meeting yours, a hint of intrigue and desire in them.

"You really think so?" his voice already lower, almost to a husky whisper.

"Yeah," you admitted, feeling a rush of heat spread through you. "They accentuate your biceps really well."

A wicked grin spread across Lewis's face, and he took a step closer, the atmosphere in the room growing more intense. "Is that so?" his murmur mimicking his eyes darkening with desire. "Maybe you'd like to see just how well it accentuates them?"

Your breath caught in your throat as Lewis took his sweats off and then slowly pulled the turtleneck over his head, revealing the defined muscles of his biceps. The fabric clung to him perfectly, emphasizing every contour and curve.

"Like what you see?" he teased, his voice low and seductive.

You swallowed hard, unable to tear your eyes away from him. "More than you'll ever know."

With a playful smirk, Lewis leaned in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, the intensity of the moment leaving no doubt that this innocent closet clean-up had taken a decidedly spicy turn.

His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, the heat between you palpable. You responded eagerly, your hands roaming over his toned chest and back, reveling in the feel of his muscles beneath your touch.

Lewis's hands trailed up your spine, sending shivers down your back, and he broke the kiss to pepper soft, lingering kisses along your jawline and neck. His breath was warm against your skin, his touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

"God, you drive me crazy," his murmurs against your skin, voice husky with desire.

You gasped as he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you over to the nearby sofa and gently laying you down. He hovered over you, his eyes dark with passion, and you reached up to pull him down for another searing kiss.

The world seemed to fade away as you lost yourself in the sensation of his lips on yours, his hands exploring your body with a gentleness that belied the intensity of his desire. Time seemed to stand still as you explored each other, the connection between you deepening with every touch, every caress.

Eventually, you both came up for air, breathless and flushed with desire. Lewis's eyes searched yours, filled with a mixture of love, lust, and something deeper, something more profound.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

"I love you too," you replied, your heart swelling with love and contentment.

With a simple exchange, the atmosphere in the room shifted once again, the intense passion giving way to a more tender, intimate connection. You held yourself up by his shoulders, drawing your body close to his, feeling his growing arousal through the fabric of his briefs. Between lingering kisses, his hand found its way to your core, teasing your clit through the fabric of your panties and shorts. Your moans filled the room, mingling with his as his lips stubbornly refused to leave your own.

Growing impatient with the teasing, you took hold of his wrists, his eyes opening wide with a mix of surprise and concern. "Lew, no teasing, please," you murmured in a ragged voice, locking eyes with him. His smirk formed slowly, mischief dancing in his eyes. "You don’t get to start this and not see it through, baby girl," he whispered, his voice incredibly low as he breathed in your scent. His arms wrapped around your legs and waist, effortlessly laying you down once again.

His fingers skillfully undid the silk ribbon of your shorts, slowing down each movement as his eyes met yours, his kisses trailing lower on your body. "When you see me wearing this turtleneck, I want you to remember me eating you up in it," he whispered against your skin.

Reaching your core, he caressed you for a moment before pulling the cotton fabric to the side, blowing gently on your sensitive skin before kissing you, causing your body to quiver in anticipation. Soon, his tongue was exploring every inch of you, his thumb on your clit and two fingers teasing your entrance.

"We need to get you ready, huh?" he said, not waiting for your response before curling his fingers inside you, the angle and traction causing you to writhe in pleasure, reaching your first climax, completely captivated by his touch.

Stepping away from the sofa to remove his sweatpants and boxers, you mustered the energy and courage to sit up and grab his arms before he could take the turtleneck off. "You, sir, you stay just like that while I engrave into my memory how ridiculously hot you look," you said with a playful smirk.

Kneeling in front of him, you took his member in one hand, the other tracing his abdomen beneath the fabric. The sensation of his growing body hair, his precum leaking from the tip, and the low whimpers from the man – who you literally had in your hands – left you feeling overwhelmingly elated.

His hands on the back of your head guided the rhythm as you took him into your mouth, the head of his dick reaching further with each thrust, synchronizing perfectly with your movements. If it weren’t for his hands on your cheeks and the fiery intensity in his eyes, you could have continued for hours.

The raw passion and connection between you two made every touch, every kiss, and every glance get you two more connected than the last. So, when he reached for your arms, he didn’t need to say he was more than ready to take you, fully. His hands on your waist guided you to one of the arms of the sofa, steadying you with one hand while the other spread your leg to get better access.

His first stroke was always the slowest; this time, though, it felt like torture. His eyes closed as he reached deeper and deeper, moans leaving his mouth and yours as you both adjusted to each other, his body coming closer to yours as he embraced you, his lips connecting to yours almost mindlessly. "Babe, I swear… it never gets easier holding myself back."

His thrusts got harder and faster as he continued, your moans turning into gasps the closer you got to another orgasm, his dick ever so slightly brushing that spot that got you whimpering, just for him to smirk down at you and change the angle. He wanted to build the pressure so he could choose when to release it; he was in control, and he knew how to show it.

Just after your eyes started welling up from the overstimulation, he pulled both of your legs behind his neck, making sure he reached your cervix and g-spot each time. His dick throbbing and his thrusts deepened as he let out a guttural groan, his seeds filling you as you saw white, his pubic bone hitting your clit just right one last time.

The room was filled with heavy breaths and a lingering warmth as you both came down from your high. Lewis’s expression soft and his eyes filled with tenderness and care as he looked at you "You okay?" his question gentle, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You nodded, feeling a little overwhelmed but safe in his arms. "Yeah, just a bit worn out, I guess." Lewis smiled warmly, pulling you closer to him. "Let me take care of you," he murmured, as he carefully helped you sit up and stood to grab a towel from the nearby bathroom.

Returning to your side, he dampened the towel with warm water and began to gently clean you up, taking care not to cause any discomfort. Once he was satisfied that you were comfortable, Lewis took off the turtleneck he had been wearing, putting it aside to be washed before sitting back down beside you on the small sofa.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest, offering you comfort and warmth. You snuggled into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your ear. The intensity of the moment had passed, replaced by a comforting sense of closeness and affection.

"The room's a bit of a state, isn't it?" Lewis remarked after a while, bringing you back from the haze you found yourself in, glancing around at the mess of clothes and scattered belongings. "Looks like we've got our work cut out for us." You chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I guess we do. But I wouldn't want to clean up this mess with anyone else."

"The things we do for fashion..." Lewis quipped with a playful smirk. You couldn't help but laugh at his remark, the tension in the room dissipating as you both shared a moment of lightheartedness, wrapped in each other's arms.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[pasukiyo]

PERHAPS, PERHAPS, PERHAPS.

eric (a quiet place: day one) x f!reader word count: 2,894 warnings: a little bit of violence summary: perhaps it's chance. perhaps it's happenstance. but perhaps it is fate. perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

 Hands find the sleeve of her sweater and she’s pulled backwards, her lips parting in a gasp as she turns. A woman, with dark hair beginning to fade into gray, locks her hands around her wrist, trembling. 

 “Please!” The woman shrieks. “I don’t know where to go! I need help! Please! Help me!”

 She’s frozen, her mouth opens and closes but nothing comes out because the truth is, she’s just as helpless. She wishes she could help, she really does, but she’s alone in a foreign city while the world around her falls apart and all she knows to do is run. 

 She tries to shake off the woman, but she only tightens her grip, and it’s not until she screams again that she lets go. It happens in a blur. One moment the woman is on her arm and the next she’s taken away by one of those things. She can’t even process what they look like because they move so fast. 

 She stumbles backwards as a car alarm sounds and she only just manages to duck in enough time to avoid being crushed as the airborne vehicle flies overhead, crashing into the building behind her. Her teeth catch her bottom lip and she whimpers, holding her head in either of her hands. Screams sound and die, wheels screech, vehicles crash, windows shatter, people are torn apart and it’s all just too loud. 

 She sinks to her knees in the middle of the chaos-ridden street and covers her ears, the hot water in her eyes falling fast down the apples of her cheeks. She feels utterly alone and only now does the weight of her family’s abrupt deaths begin to seep in, like poison injecting itself into her veins and wearing down her bones. 

 She wonders if this is it— if today is the day she dies. 

 She wonders if she should just stay here: on the ground, unmoving, waiting for death to take her. 

 It’s harder to breathe than ever now and she can’t calm herself down, can’t even focus on inhaling a steady breath. The ground quakes below and she thinks something explodes, but it’s hard to hear over the ringing in her ears. She only thinks to duck until she faces the ground as smoke pervades the air and ash falls and all she can see is gray. Her hearing is only just coming back to her when she hears a scream— whether it was her own or somebody else’s, she’s uncertain— but all she knows is in the next moment, everything is black. 

 The world is still black when she hears her name. She stirs and thinks it must be death calling upon her but then she hears her name again and it sounds… real. Still, she does not open her eyes, lingering in that state between waking and oblivion. 

 The voice calls her name again and suddenly it sounds… familiar. She’s heard it before but she’s unsure where. She must be dead, she thinks. 

 But is the afterlife supposed to feel so… real? As in, she feels the warmth of fabric above her and thinks it must be a blanket, the cushion of what she can only think can be a pillow beneath her head. She can feel her feet, so she moves them, and she can feel something soft underneath them, something her entire body can feel. It must be a mattress she sleeps on but how when only a moment ago, her knees were on the asphalt of a crumbling street?

 Her name is called again and this time, she feels a weight on her shoulder, a hand. It suddenly registers that she isn’t in the city at all but rather somewhere else entirely different and her eyelids snap open at the realization. A shadow looks over her and she pushes herself to sit upright, her throat tightening as she tries to blink the blurriness away from her vision.

 “Hey!” The voice calls again, the hand on her shoulder firmer. The silhouette before her warps and moves and it must be the source of the voice but her muscles remain taut with panic. “It’s me! It’s just me.”

 She tries to draw air into her lungs but it’s hard when she can hardly make out where she is and the hand falls from her shoulder to instead find her cheek, pulling her face towards the shadow. Her chest rises and falls with her breaths as she continues trying to make out the face of the shadow before her. 

 “It’s me!” The voice says again. “It’s Eric!”

 Eric. 

 The shape in front of her finally materializes and indeed, it is Eric. His brows are drawn in concern, his big, signature doe eyes round and searching hers. Her mouth feels dry and it opens and closes multiple times before he places his hand on her chest, right over her pounding heart. She glances down to his palm, watching as it rises and falls with her breaths before his other hand reaches for her chin. 

 Their eyes meet and for a moment, it’s like the world stills and it is only him she can see. His eyes are so dark a brown that they seem to merge with the sea of black in its midst and she thinks she will lose herself if she stares too long. His lips move to form the words “breathe” and “it’s over now, you’re safe” and it seems easier now that she’s rapt in his eyes, shining like dark topaz. 

 Her chin rises as she inhales and she focuses on his hand on her chest as her head dips with her exhale. Air floods her lungs and the world begins to turn again.

 “Okay?” Eric asks carefully, his hand no longer on her chest but still hovering above just in case. She takes another deep breath before she nods, sniffing. It’s only now set in that she was sleeping and she was living a nightmare, or rather, reliving her nightmare. 

 It’s been three months since day one, since the nightmares began and every day since has been long, some longer than others. Every day since the first sort of happened in a blur, but she remembers the day she met Eric like it was yesterday. 

 She remembers the boat, the boy with the cat who she’d just watched escape death before he swam to his new beginning. She remembers the conversations they had on the (what felt like at the time) seemingly never-ending boat ride, the vow they didn’t speak aloud but seemed to silently agree on that they’d stick together, and they did, even when they arrived on the island. She remembers it all and so she pulls the boy in front of her into her until she can rest her head on his shoulder, fingers clutching his white t-shirt. 

 His arms wrap around her middle and hold her close, his breath warm as it threads through her hair, seeping down to her scalp. Her nails burrow into his shirt, deep enough to snag skin underneath and her heart pounds against her ribcage, dread creeping up her spine at the realization that she doesn’t want to let go. When he inevitably begins to pull away, she sinks her nails into his shoulders like the claws of a cat and a crease forms between his brows. 

 “What is it?” He asks and she swallows, brows pinched together. “Will you stay with me?” She questions and his expression softens, nodding as he lets go of one of her shoulders to gesture with his thumb behind him. 

 “Yeah, you know I’ll always be right over there,” he says, referring to the small sofa bed across the room. He gives her bicep a reassuring squeeze and turns, moving to pull away again but she finds his hand, clasping it between hers as tight as she possibly can. 

  “No, I mean will you…” she pauses, sighing as blood bites her cheeks, filling them with color. “…will you lay with me?” She finishes quieter, his hand growing warm in hers. 

 He turns to face her again and when their eyes meet, silence strings between them. She swears she can see him connecting the dots until realization washes over him and finally, he understands. He blinks again, once down to the bed and once to the open space beside her. On his next blink, color floods his cheeks and he nods, lifting up the blanket to slide underneath it. Their legs touch for the briefest of moments and either of their breaths hitch. His skin lingers for a heartbeat before it’s gone and she has to take in another deep breath through her nostrils to quell her quaking heart. 

 They both settle themselves down on the mattress and it creaks beneath either of their weight. She holds her breath again, still under the guise that one of those things will come snatch her away at the smallest of sounds, but the reminder that they are on the island, that they are safe fills her with some solace. Even though the relief never stays long. The past always comes back to haunt her, as if some sort of evil spirit has made it its sole mission to taunt her. 

 “Hey,” Eric whispers and she turns, realizing he was looking at her. “Are you alright?”

 She nods, sniffing again. “Sorry, I’m just… thinking,” she replies, blinking back towards the ceiling. “I had another nightmare.” He sighs beside her and she hears the sheets shift a little as he adjusts his weight. “It’s okay. I get them too.”

 It’s easy to forget she’s not the only one who experienced the horrors of the invasion, that she isn’t the only one who lost things, people. She forgets she’s not the only one who is haunted by what transpired that day and she peers back over towards Eric. He stares up at the ceiling, his hands neatly folded on top of his stomach and his lips pursed. He taps his fingers against the back of his hands a little awkwardly, as if he wants to speak but isn’t sure what to say. So instead, he remains silent, waiting for the moment he succumbs to sleep. 

 “Tell me about England,” her voice fills that void between them and he almost flinches, snapping his head towards her, an incredulous look upon his face. “What?” He says as if he hadn’t heard her the first time. The corners of her lips twitch, “tell me about England,” she repeats. “I’ve always wanted to go. And well… it doesn’t look like I’ll be going any time soon.”

 He exhales and it almost mimics a laugh but it dies as soon as he rolls his head to face the ceiling once again. He stares into the darkness above, sifting through the memories he has of home. The truth is, it’s been so long since he’s been home, the memories are already beginning to fade away. His mother, his father, his little sister, their cat, his childhood home, the town he grew up in. The more days that pass, the farther away all those things seem. He can still see them toward the horizon but they’re fading behind shadows. He fears that soon enough, they’ll be nothing more than black shapes out in the distance, too far away to make sense of what they are. 

 For a moment, she wonders if he’s going to speak at all. Frodo purrs as he leaps onto the bed, curling into a ball at their feet. And then, Eric finally speaks. 

 “Growing up, I never thought where I grew up was small until I came to the States,” he begins. “Did you know that the entire population of New York City is over four times the population of Kent?” 

 Her lips curve into a tight, genuine grin and she shakes her head. “No,” she replies and he scoffs. “It’s crazy,” he mutters. “I’d never seen so many people in one place before in my life.”

 She laughs again and this time, her grin splits her face and when Eric turns, his gaze lingers. She stares back, finding his eyes even in the darkness. Even in the dark, she can see the way they soften in searching. Whether it is her or his memories he is searching, she is not sure. She grows warm at the sudden awareness of their closeness and she has to turn away again to ease the erratic beating of her heart, folding her hands just beneath it, sucking in a deep breath. 

 Eric clears his throat. Then he continues, “there was this bakery around the corner from my house. My sister and I practically kept that place afloat all on our own with how many times we went.” 

 She turns and watches his side profile as a soft smile curves his lips and she thinks to herself, how can she possibly look away? Neither one of them ever really talked about their life before the invasion much, but maybe they should’ve tried sooner, if he was going to look the way he does now. It’s the brightest she’s ever seen him, the fastest he’s ever talked. His eyes gleam at just the mere mention of home and she wants to know more, wants to learn more about him. 

 “Have you ever had focaccia?” He asks, turning to find she’s already staring and she raises a brow. 

 “Ever had what?” 

 His brow furrows and he looks almost offended, a hand on his chest in mock offense. “Do the Americans not feed you focaccia?” She laughs, shrugging. “I honestly have no idea what you’re even talking about,” she replies and he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

 “It’s only, like, the finest bread in the world,” he says. “But the best is at the bakery near home. It’s the focaccia of all focaccia. Their focaccia beats all focaccia.”

 She chuckles, “I’ll have to take your word for it then.”

 “Well, anyway, my sister and I would get focaccia from that bakery everyday after school,” he blinks, brow dipping. “Except Wednesdays. They were always closed Wednesdays. I always hated Wednesdays because of it.”

 She cannot help it anymore so she laughs, her shoulders wracking with the sheer power of the action. She clasps a hand over her mouth to attempt to suppress any embarrassing chortles and Eric sputters, the mere beginning of his own laugh. 

 It’s something she can’t remember doing last: laughing. At least, genuinely laughed. It must’ve been before the first day but that day feels so long ago that she can’t place a finger on nearly anything before it. 

 So this feels good. It feels like things can be almost perfect, because even if this lighthearted feeling is only fleeting, in the moment, it feels right. It feels right to be here with Eric, laughing over a life that neither one of them will ever have again. Laughing even as the world crumbles around them. Laughing as they pretend that everything is okay, if only temporarily. 

 There are tears in her eyes now from how hard she’s laughing and she blinks them away, peering over at Eric through her watercolor vision. He’s still coming down from the high his laughter gave him when she reaches over, fingers finding his arm. 

 “Eric?”

 He hiccups with laughter, “yeah?”

 She sniffs and bites back another laugh. “Can I kiss you?”

 Maybe it's the spur of the moment. Maybe it’s just happenstance. Or maybe, just maybe, it was meant to be. 

 She doesn’t know. 

 But none of it matters right now. 

 Because his gaze drops to her lips and when he looks up, she finds he wants her just as much as she realizes she wants him too. 

 Eric says nothing, only reaches for her, his hand finding the back of her head to pull her in and her arms wrap around his neck and then their lips are one. They fit together in the perfect mold, as if it truly was just as she thought: meant to be. 

 Perhaps, Eric was who she was meant to find all along. End of the world or not, life— at least on Eric’s end, it was more chance on hers— brought them both to New York at the same time and she can’t help but wonder, as his tongue swirls her mouth, whether she would’ve found him anyways. 

 Perhaps they would’ve run into each other on the street. Perhaps, even on the subway. Maybe they would’ve walked into the same restaurant at the same time and locked eyes. Or maybe they would’ve gone to the same shops, the same hotel, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. 

 An arm slithers around her waist and draws her into his chest and she knows that this is fate. It simply can’t not be. 

 She pulls away for a moment, just so either of them can catch their breaths, and their eyelids peel open and seemingly nothing else matters. There’s a sort of silent understanding between them— Eric must feel the same. 

 And that’s enough. It’s all she needs to be okay again, to want to live. 

 They crash into one another again, like two stars in a stellar collision. She burns brighter than she ever has before and they melt into one another and relish the notion that this is enough. 

a/n; saw a quiet place day one the other day and i think writing an eric fic was inevitable so... HERE YOU GO! i hope you all enjoy this one and let me know if you'd like for me to write up more eric fics! i'd love to explore this character some more :)

🤍 if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply to let me know! ✨

[permanentswaps]

Breaking Eric’s Trust Pt. 2

Read Part 1, written by vice versa swaps, here.

Will:

After the swap, we walked back through the parking lot and Bryce drove me back to my new home. My new body was much leaner than I was used to, making me feel a bit disoriented as I walked through the door. But I couldn't deny the appeal of Bryce’s youthful a physique – even if it was very different from the heavy muscles I'd worked for decades to build on my own body.

Entering Bryce’s room, I took in the surroundings and decided to try my hand at some sketches.

"Let’s see if this really improves my art skills," I thought to myself.

I quickly found myself engrossed in the creative process, a feeling I'd been craving to get back to. As the sketches took shape, I couldn't help but admire the dexterity of my new hands.

Distracted, I gently traced my fingertips along the veins of my opposite hand. Slowly I traced up my forearm and to my bicep, which I flexed. I then moved my hand over to my muscular chest and grazing my new sensitive nipples. I raised my arm to flex in the mirror and thought to myself “This body may not be as strong as mine, but it’s hot as fuck. Why would Bryce ever want to give this up.”

Hot and bothered, I retreated to the bathroom where I stepped into the hot shower. Felling the hot water falling across my back, I lowered my right hand to my cock while feeling my muscles with my left.

“I’m so fucking sexy. I’m so fucking sexy.” I growled to myself, before eventually cumming across the shower wall. As I came down from climax, I shook off the thought, reminding myself I’m only borrowing this body.

Just as I finished up in the bathroom, my phone rang – it was Eric, asking to hang out. When Eric arrived, I greeted him with a smile, trying to act casual.

"Hey, Eric! What's up, man?" I, now in Bryce's body, said, attempting to sound as natural as possible.

"Not much, man! Just figured I'd swing by and see what you're up to," Eric replied.

I chuckled, "Oh, not much. Wanna play some Call of Duty?"

The two of us settled into the gaming setup, controllers in hand. As we played, I couldn't help but marvel at the experience of hanging out with my son from a different perspective.

In the midst of the gaming session, I saw this as my opportunity to ask about things I wouldn’t normally know about.

"How are you feeling about going away to school?" I asked, trying to keep the question casual.

"A bit nervous, but I’m mostly excited and ready to get out of the house – date some hot girls. I am worried about my dad though; it's gonna be tough for him to be alone like this, I think," Eric replied.

I felt a twinge of sadness at Eric's response but turned my focus back to the game.

Changing the topic, Eric asked, "How about you, how are you feeling about the gap year?"

I hesitated for a moment, then replied, "I'm not sure if it was the right choice, to be honest."

"Well, at least in a year, you'll still be off to college. Then, we’ll be able to hang all the time and you'll have your pick of all the guys there," Eric said with a playful grin.

I smirked to myself, "Yeah, that'll be great," before indulging in a brief fantasy about what it would be like to live Bryce’s life in college instead of just here at home.

Bryce

A week had passed since we visited the lab, and Mr. Sullivan and I had gotten surprisingly good at mimicking each other's mannerisms and habits. As we were packing up the car to move Eric up to campus, he casually asked, “Would it be alright if Bryce came with us to drop me off?”

“I think that’s a great idea,” I responded, happy to not let Mr. Sullivan miss out on this big moment.

The three of us drove up to campus together, joking and listening to music the whole way. We grabbed a quick bite to eat before walking around the campus and bidding an emotional farewell. Mr. Sullivan, in my body, teared up a bit, to which Eric laughed and said, "Don't worry, dude. I'll FaceTime you all the time," before playfully punching his shoulder.

As we climbed back into the car to drive home, I realized this was the first time Mr. Sullivan and I had been alone together since the swap.

"How are you doing?" I asked, glancing at him.

"Alright, I guess. I'm just really going to miss him," Mr. Sullivan responded, a hint of melancholy in his voice. "The other night we were hanging out, and he told me he was worried about me, or you now, I guess. He thought I’d be lonely without him, and damn, I think he’s right."

"Oh, really? I'm sorry to hear that. But at least you know he cares," I said, attempting to offer some consolation.

"Yeah, I guess," he sighed.

"And hey, you've still got me," I added playfully, reaching over to place my thick, callused hand on his thigh. I gripped the steering wheel with the other hand, feeling the warmth radiating from him. It was clear he was blushing, and I couldn't help but smirk.

We pull into the driveway and stumble into the house. I pinned him up against the wall in multiple spots, and we shredded our clothes as we went. I was enjoying the virility of this body – I was strong before, but never like this.

Tossing my former body onto the bed, I asked, “What do you want me to do to you.”

Looking up and biting his lip submissively, Mr. Sullivan asked, “You know the other day at the lab when I said, ‘you can do whatever you want with my body when you’re in it.’” I nodded. “I really meant anything,” he said.

After loosening him up with my fingers, I rolled on a condom and began to slide myself into my former body’s tight hole. It had been a while since I had taken anything this big, and I could feel the tightness around my new cock. Yet, something wasn’t cutting it.

After a few minutes of fucking, I growled “Daddy wants to feel all of you, I hope you like it raw,” growled before taking off the condom and sliding back in. The ecstasy was almost too much to handle and we climaxed together shortly thereafter.

The next morning, I woke up in bed, feeling the warmth of sunlight filtering through the blinds. Stretching and yawning, I rubbed my face, the rough texture of a beard grazing my palms. Glancing to the other side of the bed, I saw Mr. Sullivan in my body still peacefully asleep.

As great as last night was, a slight twinge of remorse tugged at my emotions. The idea of betraying Eric's trust weighed heavily on my conscience.

Deciding to focus on the present, I smiled softly before leaning over and gently kissing Mr. Sullivan on the cheek just like he had done at the swap labs before we had exchanged bodies. As Mr. Sullivan stirred awake, I greeted Mr. Sullivan with a warm smile.

"Good morning," I said, still getting used to a deeper voice. "Sleep well?"

Mr. Sullivan rubbed his eyes and sat up. "Yeah, surprisingly well. This body of yours is quite comfortable."

I chuckled, "Glad to hear it,” before diving back in to start round two.

A few months later

Over the course of the fall, Bryce (we’d begun to refer to each other using our former names) and I navigated the complexities of each other's. I was pretty successful in fighting my lonely streak, having met a lot of new friends at the gym and through my new local softball league.

Meanwhile Bryce was also working out like crazy and had flourished in his artistic pursuits, getting admitted to an art fellowship program that he could do for the rest of his gap year.

Hidden from prying eyes, our secret relationship also continued to thrive. Even though we didn’t tell Eric, he still clocked the positive change. A few weeks ago, during a Facetime call after a particularly enjoyable afternoon session with Bryce, he teased, "Wow, Dad, you're looking great. Honestly glowing... what … or who … have you been getting up to?" I laughed it off in the moment, but as time dragged on the weight of lying to Eric grew heavier on my conscience.

Finally, it was now the day before Thanksgiving break, meaning that Eric will be home tomorrow for the first time since we dropped him off. While Bryce had been up to visit him a couple of times, I still hadn’t seen him in person for months.

I invited Bryce over to the house, ready to figure out what to do. We laid together on the bed. I sat leaning against the headboard and some pillows and his head rested gently on my bare chest.  

"I gotta level with you, Bryce. I'm feeling really guilty,” I said, using my thick fingers to stroke Bryce’s torso through his halfway unbuttoned shirt. “I'm not sure I can keep up this lie to Eric much longer," I confessed.

Will, his expression thoughtful, suggested, "Well what if we just came clean to him now?"

"No, if we did that, I don't think he'd ever trust either of us ever again," I replied.

"We could swap back now," he proposed tentatively, a look of disappointment flickering across his face.

Pulling his lean body in closer to mine, I smirked. Nibbling on ear I said in a raspy whisper, "You wear that ass way better than I ever did, no way in hell am I going to make you give it up."

He looked at me, blushing, and I continued, "No, as much as it kills me, I think we need to end our relationship."

Will nodded, another look of disappointment flashing across his face before he replied, “Alright Will, if that’s what you really think is best.”

“But before we do, I need to feel my tight ass one last time,” I growled.

I got up and moved to his side before finishing unbuttoning his shirt. Then, gently running my hands from his torso around to his lower back, I motioned to take of his pants and briefs.

As I ate out his ass, I could feel my beard scratching against his smooth cheeks. Once he was loose, I got on my knees, raised his legs over my shoulders, and slid my raw cock into his tight hole.

After what feels like hours of fucking in every position imaginable, he’s finally riding on top.

Throwing his head back in ecstasy at me he moans to himself, “Oh fuck yeah. Fuck yeah. This body is so fucking hot.” Feeling himself up, he continues, “This is all mine. I deserve this. I am such a fucking hot hunk.”

I look up at him, a twinge of nostalgic regret washes over me. But as quickly as that feeling arrives, Bryce looks down at me and says, “Oh yeah, and it’s all thanks to you Will.” A naughty smirk crossing his face he continues, “Tell me how much you want me.”

Picking up the pace of my upward strokes I grunt, “Fuck yeah Bryce, you’re so fucking hot.”

“Fuck right I am, say my name again” he yells back.

“Unghhh Bryyyyceeeee,” I moan. “Take that dick, Bryce,” I grunt, grabbing his cock.

He leans over moaning, “Oh fuck yeah Daddy, I’m cumming” before kissing me and gently stroking my sensitive nipples.

That is enough to send me over the edge, coating his insides with my seed as we cum simultaneously.

Basking in the afterglow, I feel my meat still throbbing deep inside him.  “Well even if we can’t be together, I still hope we can do that every once in a while,” he said, continuing to feel up my sweaty, muscular torso.

Biting my lip, I reply, “I don’t see why not.”

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Revenge Body

The day he dumped my sister...

This is a photo of Eric the day he dumped my sister. According to him, she wasn't good enough to be with a hotshot architect like him! Eric thinks highly of his career and appearance, and he loves himself more than he could love any woman.

My sister had to find that out the hard way.

What Eric doesn't know is that his ex-girlfriend comes from a family of witches. In fact, her speciality is contacting the dead, and that's exactly what she did...

My sister summoned me, her dear-old brother, from beyond the grave and spilled the tea on her ex-boyfriend. Even though I was dead, I was furious with the man, so I agreed to help with my sister's revenge scheme. It might've been petty and unethical, but I was in! Eric needed to lose what he loved most...

2 months later...

"He's fattening right up!" I sent a selfie to my sister, cradling the bloated gut that hung from my chest.

That's right. I jumped into Eric's body and possessed his ass! In only a short time, I'd completely transformed the jerk's entire existence. I was dragging his perfect body and career down the drain!

After performing Eric's dramatic emotional breakdown at his architectural firm, I got fired and kicked out of the building. I strutted his body back to his place, and quickly sold everything he owned. I got rid of his fancy clothes, his shiny sports car, and his luxury apartment. All the money went directly to my sister. I used what was left to rent out the crappiest little apartment I could find.

It was in that seedy rat-infested motel that I gleefully began to destroy Eric's carefully maintained body. I packed his tight stomach full of beer and fast food, shaved his perfect head of hair, and donned an unwashed outfit I thrifted from a GoodWill.

Now that he was unemployed, I got him a job with a construction company. I made sure to get started with the same crew that Eric used to supervise as the architect. Needless to say, there were a lot of angry tradesmen who weren't happy to see him...

6 Months Later...

Apparently, construction workers really don't like architects, so they were all constantly badmouthing Eric behind my back. I didn't really stop them, but I also didn't really keep them from doing it to my face either. With me in control, Eric was just a pathetic, submissive loser, and all his new coworkers knew they could push him around.

I didn't wash Eric once while wearing him. My nose eventually became numb to his ripe body odor, but I noticed the disgusted looks on everyone's face when they were near. His skin was constantly itchy with dry sweat and dirt too, but I didn't bother buying him anything else to wear. As far as I was concerned, Eric would get up, work, and sleep in the same repurposed clothes I bought for a few bucks.

By this point, the lean muscles he'd been so proud of were long gone. A heavy layer of blubber hung off his whole body, and he was practically unrecognizable with his shaved head and unkept beard. Giving his heavy beergut a jolly shake, I chuckled and knew it was finally time to move to the final phase...

Present Day...

It was mid-afternoon when I jumped ship. I abandoned his body after a long morning of heavy lifting, leaving Eric exhausted, sweaty, and caked in mud.

Eric regained control of his senses for the first time after 6 months of being possessed by me. He stood there for a moment, all 280 lbs of him, simply staring at his surroundings in disbelief and confusion.

He didn't start yelling until he looked down and saw the state of his precious body. I doubt he had ever felt so slimy and gross before. As I said, I made sure to leave his body as disgusting as possible for him.

Don't feel bad for him though. My sister and I just made Eric as disgusting on the outside as he was on the inside...

[blackleatherjacketz]

Hook, Line and Sinker

Eric Northman (True Blood) x Female Reader

Summary: After Eric threatens your brother to pay off a large debt, he expresses his interest in a different form of payment.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, Explicit Smut, Dubious Consent, Blackmail, Emotional Manipulation, Death Threats, Swearing, Face-Grabbing, Glamoring, Hair Pulling, Biting, Vampirism, Blood Sucking/Drinking, Kissing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Size Kink

Word Count: 2.9k+

Tags: @jessicafangirl @differentcatcat @spice-honey

Read more Eric!

Your brother had always been caught up in the wrong crowd, conning people and moving from state to state to avoid the repercussions of his actions until they finally caught up with him. You just never thought that you’d be there with him when that finally happened. You never thought that the people, the monsters that he had crossed would ever throw bags over your heads and toss you into the trunk of their car to present you in front of their ‘boss’ he had to answer to. You never thought that he’d be dumb enough to cross a nest of vampires, of all things.

This boss is much different from the image you’d cooked up in your head from beneath the black pillowcase. Although he still appears pale, cold and callous from his perch behind his desk, he isn’t that dark, brooding caricature of a vampire you expected to see. His presence is still heavy, warming your body in a blanket of unease from across the room as cropped blonde locks frame his handsome face, but there’s something else there. There’s something more in that split second that he glances your way, almost as if he was fighting the urge to take a longer look, but that could just be the trauma talking.

He takes his time folding his slender fingers together as he speaks to your brother, not even bothering to look over at him while negotiating his terms. It’s almost as if he’s bored of the inconvenience of his presence, annoyed that he even has to do any of this at all. You can tell this isn’t the first conversation they’ve about this, but figure that it may very well be their last. And just like that, with a wave of his hand, one of your captors grasps onto your brother’s arm and turns him away from you despite his many pleas and protests.

“She stays here until you come back.” He looks at you intentionally this time, eyes burning his promise deep into your soul with words clearly meant for your brother.

“What?! No! She doesn’t have anything to do with this, Eric! I was asking her for money! That’s why I was with her!” David pleads as the woman begins dragging him across the room toward the open door. “I’ll get your money, I promise!”

“We’ll see.” Eric states calmly, almost to himself as the sound of your brother’s begging fades out into the darkened hallway, muddled by his scurried footsteps.

You start to run over to the doorway, trying to see which direction they’re taking him in, to get one last look at your brother before the night swallows him whole, but you can barely move. Like in one of those nightmares you can’t manage to wake yourself from, your feet seem to get heavier with each step you take as you feel yourself being pulled back to the center of the room by your host’s words.

“If I knew David had such a pretty sister, I would have threatened him a lot sooner.” Eric starts as he busies himself by looking over his ledger, his long fingers scaling down the page before looking back up at you intently. He holds your gaze with a long azure stare, so dark and serious that you can’t bear to look away, even if you tried. “Now I see why he was keeping you from me.”

“Keeping me from you?” The phrase sounds just as odd coming out of your own mouth as it did his, your voice providing little balm over the idea.

“Don’t pretend to be so naive, sweetheart. It doesn’t suit you.” Eric stands up, moving around the desk toward you in a blur faster than your brain can even begin to register. He stops just a few feet short of you, forcing you to gasp as your muscles tighten in anticipation of what he could do to you in a matter of seconds. If he wanted to. He’s so much taller than he seemed from behind the desk, his shoulders now towering well above your eye line as he takes another slow, purposeful step in your direction. “You’re not nearly as afraid of me as you should be.”

“I’m afraid,” you reassure him shakily, still stunned in your tracks.

“Are you?” He lifts your chin with the tips of his fingers, that cold stare of his softening just a little as his lips curl into a devious smirk. “Or is it something else?”

You wrack your brain of all the vampire trivia you’ve learned over the years, trying to recall if they could read minds, or if that was just something you saw in a movie once. Is it that blatantly obvious that you’re attracted to him despite the situation your brother’s put you in? Has the gift of fear not properly disguised your complex reaction to his large size and good looks? Or is this just a lucky shot in the dark?

“It’s something else,” you hear yourself admit to him before you even decide to tell him the truth. Why did you just do that?

“I could see it all over your face the very second you walked in here.” He grabs ahold of your chin and squeezes until your lips purse, smiling as if he’s won some kind of prize for calling you out on something completely out of your control. “Humans aren’t nearly as good at hiding their emotions as they think they are.”

He chuckles and lets go of your face, turning his back to you before slowly walking over to his desk as a cascade of hormones trickles into your bloodstream. That sudden absence of his touch makes your body ache for another embrace, craving that hit of oxytocin more quickly than you’d ever anticipated from a mere stranger.

“How much does he owe you, exactly?” You attempt to reconnect, stepping toward him as he turns back around to face you.

Maybe he just wants you to ask for it… to beg for what you want in exchange for your brother’s life, but that’s not something you’ve ever done before, not something you’d ever lower yourself to do. The least you could do is try your best to negotiate your way out of this logically.

“A lot,” he answers flatly.

“How much?” You try to stand your ground, looking up at him resolutely as his beautiful features start to heat you up from the inside out.

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

“Jesus, fuck.” You utter, unaware that your brother’s habits had gotten him this upside down with the most lethal of all creatures known to man. There’s no way he’s getting out of this without your help.

“Jesus Fuck is right.” The vampire grins as he makes another move in the unspoken game that you’re playing together, reaching out to touch a lock of your hair and smelling it before laying it back down onto your shoulder. “You seem like the smart one in the family, I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that your brother hasn’t been able to pay his debt to us for some time.” He licks his lips as he looks you over, his gaze moving back and forth from your mouth down to your neck in rapid succession. “And that he’s pushed things just far enough that we’ve had no other choice but to take extreme measures.”

“Are you going to kill him?” Your heart sinks in your chest before dropping down into your stomach, straining the muscles in your torso at the thought of him paying the ultimate price for his stupidity. Sure, the two of you had fallen out of touch over the years because of his habits, but that didn’t mean that you wanted him killed over them. You just wanted this all to be over and done with. Then it hits you; you’re reminded of what your brother was doing business with… not who. “Are you going to kill… me?”

“I’m hoping it doesn’t have to come to that.” The blue in his eyes begins to shrink as his pupils dilate, escaping to the far recesses of his irises as he closes the gap between you. “It’d be such a waste.”

“But I don’t have that kind of money,” you think out loud, still trying to logic your way out of this.

“Oh, I know.” He smirks, the seductive confidence now oozing out of his pores. “That doesn’t necessarily mean that you can’t help him.” He traces his finger over the artery in your neck as it pumps a more potent cocktail of fear and arousal into your bloodstream, forcing your lips to tremble. “Fortunately for me, you were in the right place at the right time when my men picked him up.”

“Fortunately?” You repeat, realizing now that it’s too late for mundane negotiations, that it’s far too late to fight your body’s natural urges.

“You’d do anything for your brother, wouldn’t you?” Eric’s fangs suddenly emerge as he touches more of your bare skin, revealing his true nature as his chest begins to heave.

Oh God. “I’ve never been bitten before,” you whisper without pulling away from his grasp.

“Never?” He leans down and whispers into your ear, the deep musk of his cologne surrounding you in a heady haze as his thumb presses against your racing pulse. He carefully wraps the rest of his cold fingers around your neck, holding you in place as he inhales your scent. “You haven’t even thought about it? About how good it might feel?”

His words turn your insides to quicksand, his breath hot on your skin as you dare to think about his fangs sinking into your flesh. You honestly hadn’t wondered about how it would feel until just now, your mind jumping ahead to the image of him latching onto your throat and tasting your blood before you’re able to give him an honest yet quiet answer. “No.”

“Not even now?” He slides his other hand between your thighs, triggering your most human response as that moisture begins to collect beneath the fabric of your jeans, soaking through the cotton of your underwear as your body takes over. “It only hurts at first.”

“My brother will find a way to get your money.” Your last ditch effort at peace is futile at best, knowing full well that it’s only a matter of seconds before your carnal desires win over.

“Will he?” Eric releases his grip on your neck only to grasp onto your hair, tugging on your scalp just hard enough to expose your throat. “I think we both know how hopeless your brother’s case really is.” He pulls tighter, jutting your chin up toward the ceiling as he turns you around and walks you back toward his desk like a rag doll. “Maybe I should just keep you here to start paying off that debt of his. I’m sure you could be of use.”

“Keep me here?” Your view of the ceiling tiles shifts in and out of focus as he slides his hand beneath the hem of your pants, lifting you up onto his desk while sliding his fingers between your soaking wet folds. Goddamn, that feels good, oh god… he’s really good at that. But wait a minute… Keep you here? How long was that going to last? How long are YOU going to last? “I don’t want to die.”

“Who said anything about dying?” He grins as he settles in between your legs, pushing his fingers inside your eager entrance as a salacious shade of hunger washes over his face.

His bite somehow takes you by surprise, the sudden piercing pain worse than you imagined as it breaks your skin, shooting daggers up through your spine. That sharp sting only lasts for a second though, his tongue massaging your skin as it works to lap up the hot flow of blood that leaks out of the corners of his mouth, racing down your neck and onto your clavicle. His needy moans vibrate against your throat as his fingers delve deeper inside you, his thumb rubbing delicious circles into your moistened clit, flooding your senses with a deadly concoction of agony and ecstasy.

So this is what all the fuss is about.

You start to moan along with him as he stimulates your most sensitive area, only no sound bothers to escape your lips. Your breath is stifled by the intoxicating mixture of cortisol and oxytocin flowing through your veins and into his mouth, halting any complex brain functions you might otherwise have at this moment. Your fingers find their way into his hair, tightening onto his golden locks in order to hold him against you in this morbidly sensual embrace.

He pulls more of you into his mouth as your strength begins to dwindle, greedily licking the length of your neck before nipping at your chin and jawline in between hungry attempts to clean up the scarlet mess he’s made of your skin. Those tiny little nips quickly turn into affectionate kisses on his way up your face until he reaches your lips, parting them with his blood-soaked tongue.

“Eric,” you’re finally able to moan, whining as his fingers slide out of your sex just in time to unfasten your jeans, leaving a trail of slick up your pelvis as he pulls them off your legs.

“You taste like a dream,” he smirks, your blood smattered across his face like a wild animal, the excess dripping down his neck and onto his chest, stirring something more primal in you than you’ve ever felt before. He can see it in your eyes as he runs his tongue across his teeth, holding his thumb against your bite in order to slow down your bleeding for the time being. “You like it, don’t you?”

You nod in silence.

“I knew you would.” He leans in close and kisses you again, letting you taste the iron of your blood until enough of it fills your mouth that you have no other choice but to swallow. It goes down easier than you anticipated, still hot and fluid down the back of your throat as Eric bites into his own lip, mixing the saltier flavor of his blood with yours. He smirks as you lean forward to kiss him back, no longer afraid as you take his bottom lip between your teeth and suck the spit and blood right off of it.

He has you now; hook, line and sinker.

Your desire for him increases exponentially as if your very life force depends on the continuation of his kiss, on the certainty of his touch. You feel that your very soul is connected to his now, tethered more deeply than you ever have been with anyone else. Your groans become louder as he lazily licks the blood off your tongue and teeth; his hunger for you only growing along with yours as you both continue to consume each other.

Making quick work of undoing his own pants, he shoves them down past his knees to reveal the evidence of his own arousal, grasping onto your thigh to make room for his hips.

Jesus Christ, he’s even bigger than you thought he’d be. Fuck. This is really happening, isn’t it?

“And to think that I was your first,” he snickers, stroking himself with his opposite hand as he spreads the remainder of your blood left on his palm over his enormous girth. He lines himself up with your dripping wet cunt, rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your length as waves of red hot bliss shoot up into your core before he pushes inside.

You cry out as your body takes him in, inch by undead inch as that rare connection between you only tightens like a rubber band pulling you two together as he bottoms out against your thighs. He only gives you a second to adjust to his size, pulling out just a little before slamming his hips back into you without mercy, sheathing himself within your walls before relentlessly repeating the motion again and again. That tingly red heat from before turns scarlet as it burns its way through you, igniting every neuron in your body as he quickens his pace, grunting as he hits that bundle of nerves inside you the way only a man who’s been alive for centuries would know how.

It’s as if he’s unlocked something within you that so many men before had tried and failed to open, expanding your pleasure throughout every tissue in your body from your capillaries right down to your fingertips. Bright, blinding lights flash before your eyes as your toes curl and your back arches, distracting you from his mouth latching onto you once again. You can feel his thrusts becoming more frantic, each pass over your slick special spot triggering another explosion of ecstasy as your muscles clench down around him, draining him of his more prized fluid as you both shake together in unison. His moans turn into groans as he drinks more of your blood, shifting into feral growls against your mangled skin as your heart rate eventually comes down from your climax.

“Fuck!” He pulls his fangs from you as he licks and kisses his way back up to your lips, a thin coat of your blood now covering you in a ruby red sheen as his come drips down your thighs and onto the floor. “I knew I could use you.” He winks before pulling out and kissing your forehead. “Only forty-nine thousand dollars to go.”

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (17)

She never thought she’d be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer and Y/n try to outsmart the situation. wc: 3.5k Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide, mentions of SA A/n: this took longer because trying to come up with a climax scene was SO hard, I hope I did some justice here

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16

HER BODY ACHED. Every muscle seemed to join a protest, sending out persistent signals of pain. The cold air seemed to snake through her limbs, and the chains that bound her wrist seemed to cut into her flesh. The bed underneath didn't do much to ease things—it was as stiff as a board, offering about as much comfort as the floor.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been here. It was likely no more than a week, but it felt like months. Maybe hunger messed with her head, making everything feel fuzzy. The lack of nutrition had her feeling delirious. For someone who claimed to be in love with her, Eric showed no mercy for her well-being.

Of course, he didn't, she thought, because there was no love in the first place, no genuine care, no honest affection—just an illusion crafted by his distorted mind.

Her eyes drifted shut, and a sigh escaped her lips. The air in the barn was thick, almost suffocating, with its heavy, musty scent. It offered no peace for her tonight—or was it already early morning? The darkness seemed to stretch endlessly, blurring the line between night and dawn.

But something felt different.

The atmosphere shifted abruptly, a quiet change that quickened her heart. The unmistakable sound of a vehicle reached her ears before it abruptly stopped on the other side of the wall. A car door creaked open, accompanied by distant voices. Then came the purposeful footsteps, growing louder with each step as they approached her.

The barn door groaned in protest, creaking open slowly, letting in a thin ray of dim light. Her breath caught as Eric stepped in. Yet, it wasn't his presence that shocked her; it was the man he dragged along, someone she least expected to see.

Her eyes widened. Spencer?

He was here. He was really here, right in the flesh, making it harder for her to breathe. Because he looked worlds apart from the last time she saw him—his shirt dirty, bruises marking his face, clear signs of whatever ordeal he'd been through. It also seemed like he hadn't slept for days. His eyes appeared hollow and vacant, yet as they met hers, she noticed a glimmer of relief.

Tears welled up in her eyes. All she wanted was to run into his arms, find comfort in his embrace, and let out the tears for everything that had gone wrong. But she couldn't do anything when she was bound with chains while his hands were tied behind his back. And as glad as she was to see him, it registered her to why he was even here. Anger suddenly flared through her body as she leveled her gaze on Eric with a glare.

"What the hell are you doing?"

He pushed Spencer forward, forcing him to stumble, landing him on his knees. "A little present for you," Eric taunted. "Aren't you glad to see him?"

Spencer looked at her with concern, his eyes slowly assessing every inch of body. His stomach churned when he took in how fragile she looked. She seemed so weak, so helpless, being held captive with those repulsive chains binding her wrist.

“Are you…” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. “Are you okay?”

It was a dumb question. Of course she was far from being fine. But he had to say it, he needed to interact with her to make sure she understood how much it pained to see her like this.

But before she could respond to him, Eric noticed the interaction and pulled out a knife. Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched him circle Spencer, the glint of the blade caught in the dim light, sending a chill through the air.

The cold steel of the knife traced sinister patterns in the air, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from the dangerous dance. "What do you want?" she demanded, her voice shaking but defiant. "Let him go. This has nothing to do with him."

Eric chuckled and shook his head. "Oh, but it does. He's hurt you, and I need to do something about it."

"Eric, please," she pleaded. "You don't need to do this."

He ignored her pleas and narrowed his eyes on Spencer. "What do you think, Dr. Reid? Should I let you go? Let you free while I'm left alone with her, doing anything that I please." Spencer glared at him and Eric's smile grew wider. "That's what I thought."

He started pacing between them again, casually playing with the knife in his hands. "You know, I usually kill my victims before I write anything on their bodies, but tonight I'm making an exception." His eyes glazed over to her. "I think it'll be fun to do the other way around."

The ominous threat hung heavy in the air, and her heart pounded wildly in her chest. Spencer's eyes flashed with defiance, though his bound hands limited his ability to physically intervene. She locked eyes with him. They both knew the odds were stacked against them.

“You don't have to do this,” she begged once more, desperation lacing her voice.

"But I do Sweetheart, I really do." He focused his attention back on Spencer. "Now, what do you reckon I should choose for you, Dr. Reid?"

Eric continued to circle, a predator reveling in the vulnerability of his prey. "What do you think of Proverbs 11:21?” He spread his hands out as if he was imagining the words were written in the sky. “'Be sure of this: The wicked will not go unpunished, but those who are righteous will go free'."

When he was met with silence, he approached Spencer with a menacing glint in his eye. "No? How about Proverbs 21:15 then? 'When justice is done, it brings joy to the righteous but terror to evildoers.'"

Spencer finally looked up and retorted, "Justice isn't about inflicting pain for the sake of satisfaction."

Eric glared back with a sadistic resolve. "The only way to cleanse the evil here is through suffering. Proverbs speaks the truth, whether you like it or not."

At that moment, Spencer's mind suddenly shifted gears, deciding to try a different approach. His narrowed eyes showed he was honing in, not just reacting but strategizing. He was about to do what he did best—understand people, especially those on the brink. Instead of just reacting to the danger, he aimed to get inside Eric's head. He wanted to observe Eric with an intensity that went beyond the immediate threat.

"You're a smart man, Eric,” he started, his tone measured and analytical. “I can see that you've been through a lot, maybe more than most. I don't think this is about justice anymore.”

He noticed Eric stopping from his casual pace around the narrowed space, and Spencer continued. “It seems like you want to reverse the roles. To be the one inflicting pain instead of receiving it."

Eric, though still wearing a facade of defiance, couldn't completely mask the flicker of unease that danced in his eyes. Spencer's words seemed to hit a nerve.

"What do you even know about my past?" He retorted, a hint of vulnerability seeping into his voice.

Spencer, maintaining his calm and analytical demeanor, continued his probing. "I don't need to know the specifics to recognize the signs. People who inflict pain are often trying to regain control over a part of their lives where they feel helpless."

Eric's grip on the knife tightened, his jaw clenching. "You're making assumptions, Dr. Reid. You don't know anything about what I've been through.”

Spencer met his gaze evenly. "I actually do, Eric," He paused, letting the words linger in the air. "Or should I call you Henry?"

The name hung in the air, a heavy silence enveloping the barn. Y/n’s eyes darted between the two men, her confusion mirrored in the furrow of her brow. Henry? His real name was Henry?

"Henry Wyatt," Spencer continued. "Troubled childhood, juvenile records. You changed your name and tried to leave the past behind."

There was a moment of silence as if Eric was weighing his next words. "I no longer associate with that name," he finally insisted, the defiance in his voice trying to mask the vulnerability that lingered beneath the surface.

"I don't think so,” Spencer remarked. “You're still him despite having a different life now. Your current action shows how you're still bound by the past."

Eric vehemently shook his head. "No."

"Your attempt to leave it behind is what brought us here."

"No," Eric shot back, frustration lacing his voice. “You’re wrong.”

"Your sense of betrayal is the root of your actions," He pressed. "Are you deeply hurt by Oliver that you seek revenge this far?"

A growl rumbled in Eric's throat, the grip on the knife tightening. "You have no right to bring that up," he spat out.

"I do, because I want you to realize that your need for revenge is a sign of weakness," Spencer continued with a calculated intensity, his words aimed at striking a nerve. "Not strength."

Eric shot a fierce glare at Spencer as his frustration reached a crescendo. "You know nothing about me. Don't pretend to understand."

"I do understand that inflicting pain won't change anything." His words hung in the air, a challenge that dared Eric to confront the truth.

The subtle tremors of Eric's clenched fists betrayed the storm within him. The knife, once held with purpose, now seemed almost precarious in his grip. Spencer's next move was strategic, pressing on despite the mounting tension. "Romans 12:21—Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good."

Eric's anger boiled over. "Stop talking."

But Spencer saw an opening and seized it. "Hurting others won't bring you the closure you seek."

"I said," Eric snarled, his patience wearing thin. "Stop. Talking."

"Ask yourself, Henry," Spencer goaded, deliberately emphasizing the name. "Is this really about justice, or is it about masking the pain you refuse to confront?"

"Fucking shut up!"

Eric's outburst reverberated through the barn as he grabbed onto the only source of lighting, an old lamp sitting on a nearby crate. He smashed it onto the floor towards Spencer, the crash of the lamp echoing like a gunshot.

Fragments of glass sprayed across the floor, some landing dangerously close to his knees as the room dimmed further, the broken lamp's feeble glow casting eerie shadows on the walls.

"You thought you could defy me?" Eric seethed, his voice low and menacing, closing the gap between them. "You're fucking wrong."

With a sudden, swift motion, Eric brought the knife dangerously close to Spencer's face. Y/n’s mind raced. She couldn't let Spencer get hurt. She had to do something, anything, to protect him.

"S-Stop!" she stammered, trying to intervene. The chains rattled as she tried to move. But Eric kept going, and she tried again with a desperate plea.

“Eric! Look at me! Please!” She begged. “I-I'll do anything!"

There was a slight halt in his steps. "What?" Eric paused.

"What are you doing?" Spencer's voice filled the air. 

She glanced over to him, prepared to see the panic in his eyes. But despite the concern in his voice, he responded to her gaze with a silent plea, as if urging her to keep going.

He was onto something; she was sure of it, even if she wasn't sure of whatever plan he had in mind. She could tell by the slight shift in his demeanor before he quickly looked away. She sent him an understanding nod and redirected her attention to Eric, who was slowly turning toward her, oblivious of their interaction.

"I-I'll do anything you want," she repeated her words. 

A sinister smile played on Eric's lips. "Really? Anything?" he taunted, a cruel glint in his eyes as he considered her offer.

"Yes, just—please, let him go.”

Eric's gaze shifted between her and Spencer, contemplating the power he held at that moment. "You'll do anything to save him?"

Her nod was hesitant but determined. 

Eric's eyes gleamed with a malicious delight as he absorbed her desperation. "Anything, you say? That's quite a tempting offer."

"Just tell me what you want," she pressed, her voice quivering. "I'll do it, but you let him go. He doesn't need to be a part of this."

A wicked grin etched itself on his face. "Oh, it's not that simple, Sweetheart. You see, actions speak louder than words. I need a demonstration of your commitment."

Her mind raced, searching for a way to navigate through the situation. "Tell me what you want me to do," she pleaded, her eyes pleading for mercy.

He bent down and picked a shard of glass from the broken lamp scattered on the floor before throwing it to her feet.

"First, you're going to have to convince me that you're willing to endure pain for his sake." Eric gestured toward Spencer with the knife. "Hurt yourself, and maybe, maybe, I'll consider releasing him."

A chill ran down her spine as she comprehended his twisted demand. She shot a quick glance at Spencer. He met her eyes with a subtle nod, indicating that he was ready to seize the opportunity when it presented itself.

As Eric watched her, a maniacal excitement burning in his eyes, she knew she had to play along, at least for now. With trembling hands, she reached for the shard of glass, but she hesitated for a moment.

"Come on," Eric urged, the sadistic anticipation evident in his voice. "Prove your devotion."

Summoning every ounce of courage, she finally pressed the glass against her palm, wincing as it broke the skin. A suppressed gasp escaped her lips, but she fought to maintain a facade of resolve. 

"Now, that's dedication," Eric mused, enjoying the spectacle of her distress. "But we're not done yet. I want more."

She fought back the nausea, the pain in her skin throbbing with each heartbeat. With a deep breath, she tightened her grip on the glass shard, her hands trembling as she looked up at Eric.

"What more do you want?" she demanded, desperation still present in her voice.

His eyes glinted with sadistic pleasure. "Cut deeper. Prove to me that you're willing to sacrifice for him."

Spencer's eyes widened in silent horror, but she shot him a reassuring glance. The shard pressed against her skin once again, but this time, she hesitated. The internal struggle was evident on her face.

"Do it!" Eric barked, reveling in his perceived triumph.

With a swift motion, she sliced the glass across her skin again, the pain intensifying. A muffled cry escaped her lips as she felt warmth seeping through her fingers. 

"That's more like it," Eric praised, his eyes gleaming with madness. "Now, drop the glass."

She complied, releasing the shard to the floor with a gasp, her eyes never leaving Eric's. The room felt heavy with tension as he considered his next move.

"Now tell me you regret nothing, that you'd do it all over again for him," Eric demanded, the twisted satisfaction evident in his tone.

In a desperate attempt to stall him and buy time, she played into his game. "I regret nothing," she forced the words out, her voice steady despite the pain and fear. "I'd do anything for him."

Eric's triumphant grin faltered for a moment as if he expected her to break. But then, a cruel glint returned to his eyes. "Well, well, well. Seems like we have a devoted lover here.” A chuckle followed through. “But the night is still young."

A chilling silence took place as Eric continued to stare at her, his eyes traveling the line of blood dripping down her skin. His gaze traveled upwards to her shaking body before it settled on her pleading gaze. A sinister smile took hold of his face and she shivered at the sight.

"You know," he began, taking a step forward. "You look rather tempting covered in blood."

Her skin crawled at his words, and she fought to maintain a façade of compliance. The barn seemed to shrink around her as Eric advanced, his eyes fixated on her like a predator closing in on its prey. 

"Look at you, all frightened and desperate." Eric continued, walking closer to her. "I'd say you're quite adorable now."

Every step he took sent a chill down her spine. Eric's sinister smile widened as he reveled in her discomfort. "You thought you could outsmart me, didn't you?" he sneered. "But here we are, and you're at my mercy."

In response, she swallowed her fear and shot back, "Your twisted games won't break me. I-I won't let you win."

His laughter echoed through the barn, a haunting sound that seemed to reverberate within the walls. "Oh, I'm afraid you've already lost, Sweetheart."

Her stomach dropped when she saw him unbuckling his belt with his free hand, the sound of its clinking metal echoed through the suffocating silence. Fear gripped her as Eric's intentions became painfully clear. She struggled against her restraints, her mind racing for a way out of this nightmare. "Y-You promised to let him go," she pleaded, her voice shaking.

"I said I'll consider releasing him," he corrected her. "And right now I'm considering giving him a show."

She felt a wave of nausea and revulsion. Fear clutched at her chest, threatening to overwhelm her. Every inch of her body ached, both from the physical torment and the psychological torture. The chains that bound her seemed tighter, cutting into her wrists.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He taunted. "You'd let me use you while he watches how good I can make you feel."

He unzipped his pants.

“How you’d be screaming my name,” he grinned. “Secretly begging for more.”

His looming figure cast a shadow over her, his attention remained fixated on her. He was too focused on her that he didn't notice Spencer's stealthy movement behind him, and just as she braced herself for the worst, the unexpected happened.

"What do you think, Spencer? Let me—"

A sudden shot echoed in the room. The deafening sound rang through the barn, causing a momentary freeze in the air. Her eyes widened, pupils dilating in shock, as she watched a dark stain spread across Eric's shirt before he crumpled to the ground.

The gunshot rang in her ears and she blinked her eyes, trying to focus her attention on her surroundings. Then Spencer took over her line of sight, sitting on the floor with one leg stretched out. The time she had bid managed to help him escape from his restraints. 

Her gaze then shifted to the subtle holster snug in his sock, revealing the hidden firearm he was carrying all along. Her eyes met his, his expression a blend of exhaustion and concern, and a heavy breath escaped him as he slowly lowered the gun.

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. The weight of the situation hung in the air, and she couldn't find words to express the whirlwind of emotions coursing through her. The fear, the desperation, the relief—they were all tangled together. It was like a tornado had torn through, leaving her standing in the aftermath.

Spencer moved on instinct. Without saying a word, he stumbled towards her, sinking right on the mattress as he reached for her face. His hands were warm against her cold cheeks, and his eyes held a depth of regret as she stared into them. 

"I'm sorry," was the first thing he said as he held her gaze. When the first cry escaped her lips, a raw and unfiltered release of the pent-up anguish, he pulled her into his arms without hesitation. Her wails echoed in the hollow space of the barn as he held her close and continued to utter his apology like a desperate prayer.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he choked, his voice sounding strained. "I'm so sorry."

Her sobs vibrated against his chest. She clung to him, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt, her blood staining the material. The scent of hay and the earthy musk of the barn intertwined with the warmth of his presence.

"S-Spence.." she murmured, her voice a mere whisper.

"Shh, I've got you." Spencer continued to cradle her, his lips pressed gently against the top of her head. His fingers traced soothing circles on her back. "It's over. I'm right here."

Between her cries, she managed to nod, clinging to him as if her life depended on it. And maybe it did. She wasn't sure she could function properly without his presence. So she focused solely on him—the rise and fall of his chest, the soft beating of his heart against her cheek. She shut out everything around her, not even bothering to ask how the authorities knew their location when she heard a faint siren coming from the distance.

The sound of people entering the barn didn't even faze her moments later. Or the way someone came up to them, insisting the two for a medical check. Instead, she shook her head and tightened her grip, and Spencer reassured the medics they’d come to them in a while.

Time seemed to stop at that moment as she pressed herself further into his arms. The world outside could wait, but for now, all that mattered was him.

>> NEXT PART

a/n: his escape scene is kind of a nod to that truth and dare episode, idk i felt like putting it into the plot :D

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[sohnric]

sweet like candy – e. sohn

pairing: eric sohn x fem! reader

genre: summer au, strangers to something more ?? fluff, suggestive. very much stargazing by the neighbourgood and fantasize by the boyz capsuled into a fic. eric is a simp and a hopeless romantic because i said so. a girl romanticizes sharing a lollipop (its me im girl)

warnings: alcohol, maybe some minimal swearing, a heated make out session that hints onto a hookup (no smut mentioned!). the use of a cheesy nickname babydoll (dont @ me or i will deactivate), reader has hair long enough for a claw clip

word count: 6.9k

a/n: almost cried while trying to name this fic somebody send help. Also this doesn't feel like my best work its kinda rushed imo but 🤠 yolo

part of the @deoboyznet summer on you event! cant believe i made it on time

a summer tradition of renting out a cabin every year invented by a couple of friends takes a turn for eric when a new addition to the circle brings him to his knees - in other words, he never knew tequila could taste so sweet.

If anyone ever asked Eric Sohn if he believed in love at first sight, he would, without a doubt, say yes. 

What was the proof he had? Well, absolutely nothing. All he ever knew about love at first sight was from romance movies he watched during lonely nights with his roommate Juyeon, never having the experience of the whole world stopping and zooming in on one particular person, taking his breath away– but to put it simply, Eric Sohn is a true romantic. Call him cheesy if you want– he wouldn’t like it, but he also wouldn’t disagree. 

On one summer afternoon, though, his world tilts in its axis– the moment comes, and he is finally able to test out his theory.

You walk out of the passenger’s side of a red 2008 Toyota Auris, hair put up into a claw clip, jean shorts showing off your long legs and a pearl white button-up opened and lazily thrown over your outfit, and suddenly, Eric Sohn finds his knees buckling and his palms sweating with affection. He was aware that Juyeon’s girlfriend was bringing her best friend to tag along to their little summer retreat (more like a trip to a cabin in the middle of the woods), but he sure as hell didn’t expect the stranger to make him feel this type of way. 

Sure, it might just be him being incredibly attracted to you. But with how fast his heart was beating when you smiled at everyone after introducing yourself to the group, he was sure he was slowly, but surely falling for you. And he was falling hard.

He feels like the world is moving in slow motion as he watches the group go and unload the car– you and your best friend Yeri were the last ones to arrive– and what wakes him up from the haze is when he watches you struggle to carry a cooler out of the trunk into the cabin, his legs dragging him closer to the vehicle and near to your body.

Now is his time to shine. “Let me help!” he hurries out, sneakers crunching on the gravel. His hands firmly grab onto the handle of the blue cooler, muscles flexing under the weight (making him wonder why you would willingly want to carry the thing and not ask him or any of the guys for help in the first place), and when your eyes look up at come in contact with his, he presses a smile to his lips. “I’m Eric, by the way.”

“Ah,” you gasp, a grateful expression breezing over your features, “thanks. I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Eric hums, watching your every move. Your figure walks over to the front of the car, your head popping in close to the window to look inside, and when a satisfied look overtakes your features, Eric finds himself asking. “Is that everything?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “we can head inside, I think.”

The boy tries hard to keep his cool, he really does. But with how he’s trailing behind you like a lost puppy, attempting to find a topic that would engage him in a conversation with you, he feels like a boy that is just experiencing a crush for the first time in his life. Everything about you is enchanting– and sure, you could say he was just painfully attracted to you and this had nothing to do with love– but he was also convinced that if you asked him to jump off the Empire State Building, he would do it without giving it a second thought (which is kind of worrying, but again– it says a lot). 

You open the door to the cabin for him, and he finds himself speechless at the action. Once your eyes meet again and you offer him another subtle smile, he finds himself gasping at the sentence that comes out of your mouth.

“Hey! We’re matching, kinda,” you note, pointing towards his outfit.

And you’re right– Eric didn’t even notice at first, too enchanted with your sheer existence– but you two were indeed wearing the same thing. Jean shorts, and a white button-up– in your case, thrown over a white tank top, in Eric’s, closed (although he did leave it a bit open at the top, revealing his tanned skin). Suddenly, the boy is glad he’s wearing a red cap to cover up his hair, since he foolishly thinks the hat provides him enough shade in the face to not reveal his burning cheeks as he utters out a weak response.

“It looks so much better on you, though.”

With that, he walks into the cabin– escaping the situation, not really paying a single thought to chivalry and letting you go through the door first– and as he reaches the crowd of people in the kitchen, he prays for all high sources to find him, get to him and wipe his brain clean of all thoughts, because

even though you are basically matching (and he does think you look so much better in the outfit than he does), all he can think about is just how much more he’d like your outfit if the white button-up enveloping your body was the one he’s wearing right now instead.

The next time Eric finds courage to talk to you is when it seems like you’re not finding it to talk to anyone else yourself– the big group is currently sitting around a fire, marshmallows and sausages slowly burning in the blazing flames– and while everyone around was either talking to each other or singing along to the songs Jacob was playing on the guitar, you were sitting alone in the middle of two commotions: Chanhee and Changmin arguing about something seemingly important, and Yeri and Juyeon making out right in front of everyone’s eyes. 

And Eric was supposed to listen to Sunwoo talk about his latest heartbreak– how the man still gets no girls despite having such an objectively handsome face, Eric truly doesn’t know– but the topic of the conversation was too boring for him to engage with it. That, and he was also painfully aware of your every move– you didn’t even move much– and word– you weren’t talking to anybody– and that was slowly driving him insane.

You looked a little out of place. Eric supposes it was because you didn’t really know anyone here– except from your best friend and her awfully sappy boyfriend– but even though it was logical and a little expected for you to be a bit excluded in such a foreign circle, the man took it as his mission to make you feel as welcome and as included as he physically could.

Completely ignoring Sunwoo’s blabbering (like he was doing for the last few minutes anyway), Eric confidently (and a bit shakily– hands sweating and breath hitching in his throat) walks to the other side of the bonfire, from where he’s been watching your stone expression through the flames, and sits down in the small place between you and Changmin. Changmin wasn’t even facing you, too engrossed in the debate he was having with Chanhee, and so it was Eric’s job to wobble his bottom into the place, efficiently making the older boy move away with a light elbow jab sent into his lower back.

“Hi,” he clears his throat, “are you having fun?” he asks, but mentally curses at himself right as the question escapes his mouth– does she look like she's having fun? Of course she doesn't, you stupid idiot.

You smile at the question, though, nodding. “Yeah,” you hum, “having lots of fun listening to your friends argue and my friends making out next to my ear.”

“You seemed like it too, y’know,” Eric laughs, “they’re always like this, by the way. They’ll forget about the fight in the morning.”

“Oh, that could never be me,” you sigh, shaking your head at the sentiment.

“No?”

“No,” you shrug, “I get too petty. If we have a fight, I’m not speaking to you for at least two weeks.”

Eric finds himself laughing at your comment. “I’ll remember that for future reference.”

Straightening your back and looking at your companion– as if you were going to call him out on his subtle hint of there being any future meeting between the two of you– you suddenly gasp and swiftly turn towards the bonfire, an honest mourn escaping your lips.

“Oh fuck!” you curse under your breath as your hand reaches towards a stick that’s had its end in the flame, the device efficiently resting against a rock in a position where you didn’t have to pay any attention to the snack you were cooking– more like burning– for yourself. With a quick move for the stick, you pull the tip of it out of the scorching red of the bonfire and look at it in an examining way, as if the result would be different and the marshmallow would unburn itself if you stared at it long enough. “I completely forgot about this!”

Eric takes a glance at the burnt piece of fluff, letting out a laugh at the black marshmallow in front of your face. “That’s not how you make a good s’more,” he notes, poking fun at your annoyed face.

“Oh, no shit, Sherlock…” you mutter under your breath, but your face looks a bit sad to see the piece go to waste. “I don’t know why I even tried, I’m bad at this stuff.”

There comes his moment, Eric thinks. “Well, you’re lucky, ‘cause you just met an expert at making s’mores.”

“Does a thing like that even exist?” you chuckle, rolling your eyes at the male in disbelief. 

“Of course it does! You’re looking at one now,” he grins, leaning over you to take a brand new marshmallow out of the bag to your right– sandwiched between your thigh and the couple in love– before he reaches over to your hand and takes the roasting stick out of your hand, slides the white fluffy cloud through the sharp tip and hovers it above the flame.

“The key is to hold it above the flame, and not in the flame,” Eric chuckles as he looks at you from the corner of his eye, watching your expression change.

“Oh, but I thought the key is to burn the thing,” you ironically gasp, shaking your head at his teasing. “Where did you even learn all of this?”

“I grew up in the States,” Eric hums, “they would deport me if I didn’t know how to make s’mores.”

The comment gets a giggle out of you– a sound Eric almost folds at and falls into the open fire (thankfully, he held his composure– he doesn’t think 3rd degree burns would suit his look) – and it takes everything in him to not scream like a teenage girl at the thought of making you laugh. Yes, that’s how down bad you managed to get the male.

“Do you have a special recipe?”

“Just the basic one,” he shrugs, turning the skewer in his hand to make the marshmallow equally glazed on each side, “I will make it extra good for you, though.”

“I thought a master always does their best?” you tease, watching as the boy crumbles under your gaze.

“Not always. I don’t like to put effort into things that aren’t worth it,” Eric hums as he takes the marshmallow out of the burning fire, examining it, and after deeming it worthy, taking the skewer and holding it up in between his knees. The male takes a graham cracker and tears it in half, before adding chocolate to one of the sides. After he’s done, he carefully places the golden fluff ball onto the cracker and closes it, offering the sweet sandwich to you with a subtle smile.

“For you,” he winks as he turns back towards the fire, putting another marshmallow onto the stick to make himself a s’more as well (and also mentally kicking himself at the sudden burst of courage). He hears you take a bite out of the snack, his knee bouncing up and down nervously as he awaits the verdict.

“Man,” you hum, “this is so good.”

“Told you,” he says, “if there’s something I’m confident in, it’s making s’mores.”

“That’s a very unuseful skill to have,” you note, but continue to eat. The comment has him chuckle and shrug.

“Well, I used it now, so I’d argue it’s actually very useful.”

A hum cuts out of your throat at this, finishing the s’more he made for you with a satisfied sigh. “Is this how you got girls back in the States?” you ask, making the male choke on his spit.

Eric was too young to get girls when he learned how to make the greatest s’mores. He went camping with his dad and his older sister and he burned a couple before he got it right. He was in middle school and before what the kids call a glow-up these days (back in the days, you just called it overcoming puberty), but still– he decides to test the waters with another lazy, half-assed flirty comment. “Only the pretty ones.”

He hears a chuckle out of you– a reaction he decides to not pay much attention to or overthink, for he doesn’t really remember what a good reaction to flirting is anymore– but then, you sigh and nod. “Well, I give your s’more a 5 star review, so I’d find that believable.”

The comment has Eric press his tongue into the inside of his cheek, battling a victorious smile that wants to oh so desperately appear on his lips. Turning his attention fully to you, he looks at you with confidence coating his insides– it only grows when he notices you staring at the side of his face, the flame of the fire twinkling in your eye and making your features sharper and twice as attractive to the poor boy. 

His eyes scan you over for a few seconds before he notices a glimmer of something on the side of your lip– a chocolate stain that has him cautiously lean in and swipe a thumb over the sweetness, not even thinking twice before smoothing his finger over your skin. 

“You had a little… something there,” he hums as he licks the chocolate off his thumb. Your eyes still trained on him force him to avert his gaze back to the fire– for it was unbearable, as if sparks were flying and burning his skin, everything about the interaction making goosebumps appear over his body; even though he felt hot in his cheeks and not at all cold– when the sight of his marshmallow in flames suddenly comes to him, startling him awake.

Hurriedly dragging out the burnt snack out of the fire, he hears you chuckle at him from the side– so much for not ruining the moment. (It’s okay, though. As long as you’re entertained.)

“I thought you were a master at s’mores,” you poke fun at him, “got distracted?”

Meeting eyes with you, Eric shrugs, a lazy grin settling to his lips. “I guess you could say that.”

The night progresses quickly– with Sunwoo getting so drunk he borrows Jacob’s guitar and clumsily strums the strings, freestyle rapping about the most random topics with flushed cheeks and eyes dramatically glued to the fire; Hyunjae wanting to have a competition of who can jump over the flames and Sangyeon having to stop his drunk friend with the force of his own body– and Eric finds his eyes lacking the candy he’s been occupying himself with the whole evening. You disappeared somewhere into the house a few minutes ago, and although he didn’t want to be clingy, he walked up to the cabin with a nervous pep in his step– that’s it, he just wanted to make sure you were okay.

Eric walks through the doorway, having his body immediately be met with the joined common room slash kitchen area. The cabin is kind of small (too small for the amount of people currently occupying it) and kind of old, but it’s a tradition to rent it every year during the summer, so no one ever questioned the decision or made the move to rent out a bigger one, no matter the growing friend group.

Your figure finally appears in the dimly lit kitchen area, your back turned to the doorway. Standing at the kitchen sink, it seems like you were doing the dishes– tons of plates used to carry grilled meat and sausages dumped carelessly into the sink, forgotten in a minute and leaving the last remains of food dry up on them and get hard to scrape off, a couple of glasses and mugs with their ears broken off from their age waiting with coffee stains at the bottom– and Eric immediately feels his heart fall down to his stomach, because why would one do the dishes in the middle of the night? Those usually get left there until the morning, when the least hungover person will take mercy on the rest and take care of them. Were you feeling excluded from the conversation? Did you feel bored? 

“What are you doing here so alone?” he asks, making you turn your head over your shoulder and smile at him– a stone falling off his heart at the action– before you shrug at him.

“Washing the dishes,” you say, as if it wasn’t clear already.

“I see that,” Eric chuckles, “what I meant to say was, why are you washing the dishes in the first place?”

“Well, somebody’s gotta do it.” 

Eric huffs– and he doesn’t even know why he’s so defensive about it. “That someone didn’t have to be you, y’know.”

He’s standing next to you now– your eyes meeting as you stare at the boy for a heartbeat– a smile spreading on your face at his furrowed brows. The action has him visibly relax, watching as you shrug and get back to the dish washing. “I just wanted some alone time for a bit,” you muse, “outside was getting too loud for a second, I’m not used to crowds.”

“Ah… once Sunwoo drinks, he can’t shut up, so I kinda get that it was starting to feel insufferable,” Eric notes, nodding at you in acknowledgement before the realization hits him. “Wait– you said you wanted to be alone, so I should probably-”

You halt him with a soft laugh– the one Eric finds his heart liking a little too much, with how it jumps up and down and makes all of him feel warm inside– a soapy hand reaching out in his direction. “It’s okay, you can stay,” you muse, “I enjoy your company.”

“O-okay,” Eric stutters– so much for the smooth lines he had prepared in his head before coming in here, all of them flying out of his head straight out of the window– and to not seem so silly, he gets his hands occupied and reaches for the clean dishes you started stacking on the counter next to the sink, deciding to dry them and put them away. The kitchen falls into a comfortable silence that only gets broken by an occasional scream landing through the walls from outside, and Eric can’t help but indulge himself in the domesticity of the act.

He can almost imagine you two washing the dishes like this in your shared apartment after you two cook dinner together and eat it in your cozy living room. That scenario sounds almost too good for the boy, having warmth slowly ooze into his cheeks, and that, he finds to be the hint that he should probably stop thinking about you in that way now or else he’ll get too distracted and break the glasses he is currently putting away. (God forbid– there were not enough of them for the entire friend group in the first place.)

“Are you having a good time, though?” Eric finds himself asking through his weird delirium.

You smile– oh god you smile, you should stop doing that if you want him to survive the night– and nod at the boy, calmness overtaking your aura and slipping into his cracks as well. “I am. It’s nice meeting new people and everyone’s very nice,” you say.

“That’s good to hear. How long have you and Yeri been friends?”

“A couple of years,” you note, “we met during high school. We always dreamt of moving away to college and living together at dorms or something, so it’s… it’s nice that it worked out for us,” you say, having Eric nod at your words with a sweet smile.

“That’s great to hear,” he muses, “I met Juyeon and Sunwoo in my freshman year of college, and the rest just… came along after a while.”

“Your friend group is pretty big,” you point out, having the boy shrug.

“I guess so,” Eric mumbles, never really thinking of it this way– in his eyes, this was normal. This was how he operated, how he lived. A lot of people around him, always close– one would think such a large friend group wouldn’t be as close with each other, but it’s quite the opposite in his case, he thinks. Maybe he was just blessed.

“How do you do that?” you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I dunno,” he snickers, “guess you could say I’m quite the social butterfly.”

“I can see that,” you laugh. Eric watches you, his hands now empty of any dish– he’s been drying them quicker than you manage to clean (and rightfully so, the food is stuck on there) – he starts noticing the details of your sheer presence. How you have a slight smile playing with your lips even when your eyes are glued to the sink, how your hair slightly slips out of the claw clip and frames your face, how close you’re standing– his eyes slip towards your hands, noticing the water running down your forearms and dangerously close to the sleeves of your shirt.

Acting on reflex, mostly, the boy reaches towards your sleeves and gently tugs them up, the contact of your skin that he initiates and should realistically be prepared for making the tips of his fingers tingle, the action having you stop in your movements and glance up at him through your eyelashes– a sight he wishes he could engrave into the back of his eyelids so he could stare at it forever and always.

“Thank you,” you hum, voice barely louder than a whisper when he retracts away from you, taking his previous stance against the kitchen counter.

Eric hangs his head low for a second, clearing his throat to ease his own tension. Now is your turn to start up the conversation, a casual question falling off your lips as you get back to washing the last remains of dishes. “Yeri said you come here often?” 

The boy nods enthusiastically to your sentence. “We do. We started in freshman year, because Juyeon was going to this exchange program to Paris for a couple of months, so we threw him a goodbye party. Then he came back, so we threw a welcome back party here. And then we celebrated Younghoon hyung’s birthday here, and it kind of stuck, I guess? We go here at least once a year during summer.”

“That’s a nice tradition to have,” you sigh, turning the faucet off as you finish rinsing off the last dish– a big bowl that Sangyeon used to marinate the meat a few hours ago.

“It is,” Eric nods, smiling fondly at the sentiment. He reaches for the bowl and dries it with the now damp rag (there were a lot of dishes to dry, after all), and moves to put it back to its place under the sink. With your figure still in its previous spot, the boy puts away the towel onto the kitchen counter and gently grabs your waist with his free hand, moving you away a few inches to the left. He crouches and opens the cabinet under the sink and puts the bowl into the pyramid of other ones, straightening his back when he goes back into a standing position, catching you staring at him from above, watching his every move. Your body is leaning against the counter, having Eric mirror your stance only a few inches away from you before speaking up again. 

“You’re welcome to join us when we come back next time.”

The time reads 3AM– or at least that’s what his circadian rhythm tells him, because he doesn't bother to check as he twists and turns in the bed, too hot and too alert to fall asleep– when Eric decides to walk down the steep stairs and try to get some fresh air. The cabin is hot inside, but he still takes his lost button-up that he had thrown over one of the kitchen chairs and puts it on before he makes his way outside, knowing that the forest will make his bones get cold with the crisp breeze. 

He opens the door and moves to sit on the little patio– the silence of outside is overwhelming even after the cabin has quieted down and everyone has gone to sleep (each one on a different level of tipsy ranging from completely chill Sangyeon to doesn’t know where he is Sunwoo– with Eric somewhere in the middle of the spectrum). His legs drag a little tiredly as he scans his surroundings– god forbid there’s a bear out waiting for him– when the sight of a figure sitting on the floor takes him by surprise, their head already turned to him after hearing the sound of the door opening. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks as he walks over to you, noticing your frame dressed in a tank top and sweatpants, hinting that you at least tried to get some sleep before coming out here, just like he has.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you shrug, confirming his suspicions.

“Same here,” the man sighs, “mind if I sit with you?”

“You’re welcome to join me,” you smile at him, patting the floor next to you and watching as Eric crouches down before taking a seat on the wood, ignoring the sunbeds and old rattan chairs situated all over the patio. (If you’re on the floor, he’s on the floor– it’s as simple as that.)

You’re holding a lollipop in between your fingers, your other hand occupied with a half-empty bottle of tequila that was previously passed around the circle at the bonfire. Eric raises his brows at the sight, having you shamefully avert your gaze from him.

“I thought it would be a waste to not finish this,” you say, snickering, “and I also… kind of hoped that it would put me to sleep…”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures?” 

“I guess you could say that,” you laugh. Taking a sip from the bottle, you gulp the alcohol down before putting the lollipop inside of your mouth, sucking on it and licking your lips after. This is not the way you’re supposed to drink tequila, but Eric figures that gathering salt and a lime would be too much work anyways.

“Are you really using that lollipop as a chaser?” he giggles, making you hum.

“Yeah,” you stare at him, a grin overtaking your features, “this girl taught me to do that at a party last year. It’s not as good as literally anything else, but it gets the job done. Wanna try?” you ask, offering him the sweetness on the stick and the bottle.

The truth is, you were only a bit tipsy when the group slowly started to scatter into their beds. Eric didn’t drink as much either– only enough to make him laugh at everything that was said and make his staring at you twice as obvious as it was before– so he thinks he can take some more. As you said, it would be a shame if the bottle went to waste– and also, something about the idea of drinking with you alone on the patio was making his hopeless heart hammer against his chest in dangerous measures.

“Sure,” he agrees, taking the bottle first. The boy takes a sip, feeling the alcohol burn down his throat, and when he moves the dark brown glass away from his lips, he is met with the image of you leaning closer to him, offering him the lollipop. His hand instinctively grabs the plastic stick, thinking you’re letting go of it, when he’s met with the feeling of your flesh under his fingertips. You put the lollipop against his lips, making him open up on instinct and suck on the strawberry flavored candy, a million different sensations (all unrelated to the alcohol) swimming through his brain– you’re so close, you smell so good, he’s holding your hand, he’s sucking on the lollipop you previously had in between your lips and it’s driving him crazy– before you take the candy out from between his lips and put it back into your mouth, tongue swirling around the sweet ball. 

The lollipop had an aftertaste of tequila on it, but it was enough to chase down the faint bitterness– Eric finds himself wanting to taste more of the sweet strawberry, but foolishly desiring to get the sensation off your lips instead. His eyes stay locked with yours throughout the whole exchange, sparks flying in between the two of you even though the bonfire has long gone out, his fingers lazily dropping from the candy.

“How was it?” you ask, voice barely louder than a whisper– goosebumps appearing all over Eric’s skin when he swears your eyes flicker to his lips for a split second. 

“Good,” he admits. It’s silly how he feels so breathless at the action.

The sound of the wind playing with the leaves of the forest is the only thing accompanying you two. It’s as if you two were thinking of the same thing when you pull out the lollipop out of your mouth and offer it back to Eric, watching with utmost interest as the boy leans closer to capture it in between his lips, never breaking eye contact. The action feels a little too electrifying to him, a little too intimate, but he can't stop– can't even imagine wanting to.

Taking a sip of the tequila, but not chasing it down with the candy, you speak up again, lazy eyes practically glued to him. “This would be a perfect moment for a kiss…” you mumble, licking your bottom lip for a split second before biting down on it.

“Are you flirting with me?” Eric foolishly asks, tone of voice a bit weak, a little unsure, the candy still in his mouth, making his words come out a little jambled.

“Mhm,” you nod, grinning to yourself– Eric wonders how much of your behavior and how much of his raging heartbeat is due to the effect of alcohol in both of your veins.

His fingers pull at yours as he takes the candy out of his mouth, voice dropping as he answers you. “Then we probably shouldn’t waste the moment.”

Even though the intentions are clear, the boy can’t bring himself to make the first move– he’s completely enchanted with your presence, staring at you with tension in his shoulders and eyes trained onto your face, watching and examining it for any shift or change. Focused on the way you move, he thinks you must have realized you were going to have to be the one to take the first step– your lazily smile before you lean closer, impossibly close– making Eric’s eyes flutter shut with anticipation, your breath fanning his face making goosebumps appear all over his body.

When your lips finally touch his, he feels like he’s being kissed for the first time again, with the amount of fuzziness in his stomach and buzzing in his ears. He regains his composure quite quickly, though, as he positions his head in a way that makes you two even closer to each other, lips pressing firmer against yours now. His hand instinctively reaches out to hold your jaw, fingertips glazing the soft skin under them, your lips retracting only to go in for more. 

Blindly placing the bottle onto the floor next to your bodies, you peck his lips and sigh into the kiss. “Damn, you’re good at this…”

“We’re only getting started,” he muses, making you chuckle. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm,” he nods, watching as you once again lean in and suck on his upper lip, making his eyes flutter close again. A weight appears over him as you shift in your place and move to straddle his lap, your hand moving to cup his cheek and tilt him upwards, everything about the kisses getting more hurried– less gentle, less hesitant– when you tug on his bottom lip with your teeth and grant your tongue entry into his mouth.

Sweetness mixes in between you, your hands moving around his neck, heavy breaths shared across the patio. Eric feels like he’s levitating, his body having an out of body experience, yet being awfully present– every little shift pushing him to overdrive, the slightest touch making his skin burn and heart drum against his ribcage.

You shift in his lap, making him huff under the pressure, his lips trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck. Teeth glazing the jointure of your shoulder, kitten licking the place and sucking in a bruise that will eventually be visible to everyone when you two wake up in the morning, Eric feels your hands tugging down the sleeves of his shirt, fingers feeling up his biceps. The action makes him chuckle into your neck, but the smile fades quickly as he feels your nails scratching gently at his flaming skin.

“Take this off,” you mutter, and Eric finds it endearing– helping you take him out of the button-up, sitting under you in just a white tank top and black basketball shorts. 

“Why?” 

“Your arms looked good in this,” you hiss before you hide your face into his neck, leaning down to give him your fair share of kisses and love bites, having the male teasingly joke as his hands run up under your tank top, painfully aware of the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra anymore.

He moves his head to the side to give you more access before speaking out, tone of voice husky and coated in lust. “What if I get cold now?” 

“Then I’m more than happy to move this to your room,” you purr into his ear.

Eric sighs, fingers playing with the hem of your top before he lets his palms drift towards your exposed stomach, roaming across naked skin. Goosebumps appear all over your body at the action, making the boy victoriously grin. “It looks like you’re the one that's cold, though, babydoll.”

Rolling your eyes at the male, you shut him up by latching yourself onto his lips before you speak against his mouth. “I’ll take that as an invitation, then?”

“Wake up Eric! The girls are leaving, you should at least go say goodbye!” Sangyeon roars into the boy's room, making the male turn over in the bed and huff out in frustration. He drags his arm up to shield his eyes from the sunlight hitting his face, the intention of just rolling over and sleeping more written very clearly in his face.

“Come on man, we’re leaving in an hour too, so you should go send them off and then pack your shit so we can load the cars,” Sangyeon says when he gets no reaction from the youngest. It’s to no use, apparently, and so as the oldest and most observant out of the group, Sangyeon decides to use physical force– he knows Eric would hate to have you go without saying goodbye. He’s not stupid. Or blind. 

A strong hold on his calves drags Eric out of the bed and makes his half-naked body fall to the floor, a yelp coming out of his throat finally making Eric’s body fully alert and awake. 

“Yo! What the fuck–”

“Put a shirt on and go say goodbye to Y/N before she goes, would you, sleeping beauty?” Sangyeon huffs before rolling his eyes at his younger friend, escaping the room and shutting the door close after himself with a loud thud (to add more effect to the scolding, Eric thinks).

The mention of your name has Eric quickly scrambling out of the bed. His heart hammers at the adrenaline rush, pulling a clean shirt out of his bag and dragging it over his head, the basketball shorts from yesterday’s night found on the floor being pulled over his lower frame in approximately 0.5 seconds. Eric takes the stairs 3 at a time– with how steep they are, he questions how exactly does he not trip and break his spine on his way down– and puts on a pair of slippers he finds at the door (that are not his, or his size, for the matter, making his heels comically stick out from the back). 

Without checking his appearance in the mirror anywhere, he swings the door open and walks out of the cabin, watching as the group settles in a half-circle around your car, Yeri loading the trunk with her duffle bag before she closes it shut and smiles at her boyfriend Juyeon on the side. Eric joins the crowd, clearing his throat when his eyes fall onto your figure, the sight in front of him freezing him in his spot.

You’re standing there, in your jean shorts from the day before, an oversized white button-up enveloping your frame. A clueless stranger might not tell the difference, but he does– you put the shirt onto your bare skin and buttoned it just enough to reveal a bit of your cleavage– and it’s so similar to the outfit you had on yesterday, just with one difference. 

You’re wearing Eric’s shirt. You’re wearing his shirt and your neck is scattered with red and purple-ish bruises, and no, Eric wasn’t that drunk and he remembers everything, but the events of last night suddenly play out right in front of his eyes like a movie, still nailing him to his spot and wiping out all of his vocabulary.

The boy feels hot in his cheeks as he watches you and your best friend pay your goodbyes to the rest of the boys, the men pulling you into side-hugs and fist bumps, shared ‘It was nice meeting you’s and ‘You should come by next time too’s resonating through the place. Soon enough, you reach the end of the make-shift half circle and lock your eyes with Eric, a playful smile softly appearing on your face.

“It was nice meeting you, Eric,” you hum, “I had fun,” you note, shooting him a knowing look.

“Me too,” he nods, nervously chewing on his bottom lip. He doesn’t know where the confidence of last night went, but he suddenly feels unarmed and lost. What does one do now?

The sight of you in his shirt makes him feel like his biggest (wet) dream has come true– call him cheesy, but it also wakes up a sense of déja vu in him from the day before– you with sunlight in your eyes, hair messed up in a claw clip. He feels like he just fell in love at first sight again. Is that even possible?

It’s good you have a sense in you that makes you take the initiative and be in charge when you see him faltering. A giggle cuts out of your throat as you lean in and hug the boy around his neck, your lips dangerously close to his ear as you speak in a hushed whisper, not wanting to be heard by the men around you.

“I stole your shirt from you, by the way. You should text me if you want it back, so we can meet up, or something,” you mouth, lips gently glazing the sensitive skin of Eric’s ear, and god does he feel like he's going to suffocate from the lack of oxygen this causes in his lungs.

“You look amazing in my clothes, so I won’t ask for it back,” Eric hums, “but I’ll text you just in case you ever wanna bless my eyes with the sight again.”

“Deal. I’ll make Juyeon text me your number,” you say before you pull away from him, shooting him a wink that almost has his knees buckling like a school boy in love for the first time.

You walk backwards and wave at the group, sending Eric one last look before you join the passenger’s side and close the car door behind you, the sound of Yeri starting the engine resonating through the quiet forest. The men wave at you until the Toyota disappears out of sight, only scattering inside when it does to gather their things and load up their cars as well.

Eric is woken up from his trance by a teasing whistle coming out of Sunwoo’s mouth and a father-like slap to his back from Sangyeon.

He wonders if he’s truly being so obvious. (He's unaware of the fact that you two had very visible matching love bites on your necks. It doesn’t take much effort to put two and two together– don't tell him that, though.)

Still, Eric shrugs and goes inside with a different kind of pep to his step. 

When he licks his lips, he swears he can still taste the strawberries.

[thelonelyempath]

M!Crush x F!Reader: Subtle (NSFW)

18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

THEME: Smut

WARNING(s): Vibrator, Public Play, Public Orgasm, Rough Sex, PiV Sex, Unprotected Sex, Cum, Squirting, Post Orgasm Torture

This was a request, but I somehow lost the ask. So whoever's anon this was, here ya go!

It felt like roses. Too bad you couldn't react, though. Not outwardly, at least. On the inside, you were in heaven. You and C/N were hanging out with a few of C/N's friends, so he of course took this as an opportunity to play with those vibrating panties he bought you.

"You good, Y/N?" Josh asked, noticing how "away" you were. "Y/N?"

"Huh?" you gasped, frantically trying to make it look like everything was normal and nothing at all was out of the ordinary.

"Yeah, babe." C/N chimed in, smirking ever so slightly. "You good?"

"Oh...yeah. I'm fine. I'm just- mmm- just tired." you lied.

You shot your boyfriend a piercing glare, to which his smirk grew more sinful.

"See, babe." he said, very subtly pressing a button on the remote in his pocket to increase the intensity. "This is what happens when you stay up until 3AM watching TikToks."

You were trying your damndest. You almost couldn't handle it. God, what would Josh and Eric think if you had an orgasm right here in front of them? They'd think you were insane and would never want to associate with you again. You looked at C/N, silently begging him with your eyes to turn down the intensity. He was just being mean at this point.

A few more hours passed. These hours were filled with talking, laughing, video games, and your boyfriend randomly stopping and starting the vibrator. How the hell could his friends not hear it buzzing around down there? Perhaps their gamer rage was too loud for them to notice. Either way, you couldn't take it anymore. You needed to either get off now, or get home so C/N could fuck your brains out. Feigning illness was cliche, but you needed an out.

"Babe, I don't feel good." you whined, leaning against the wall, trying so hard to not climax.

C/N looked at you with a raised eyebrow. He knew exactly what you were trying to do and how close you were.

"Aw, do you need me to take you home, love?" he played along with your fake affliction, turning off the vibrator.

"I think so."

He walked over to you and pressed the back of his hand to your forehead to "check your temperature".

"You're a little warm." he said. "We're gonna head out, guys. Y/N's not feeling well."

They said their goodbyes and whatnot before C/N took you by the hand and walked you out to the car. To make it look more believable, you pretended to be fatigued by grabbing onto his arm and leaning on him. Immediately after getting in the car, the facade was dropped.

"Couldn't handle it, huh?" he teased you, turning the car on.

"I didn't want to cum in front of your friends!" you quipped back.

"They were so deep in Warzone, babe. They wouldn't have noticed if you squirted right on Eric's bed."

"Ew."

"Oh don't act like you didn't like it, love. You were so close to cumming so many times that I could practically feel your legs shaking."

Your face went beet red. C/N, with his eyes focused on the road, noticed this and laughed.

"You're so cute when I get you all worked up." he grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it.

He turned the vibrator back on, keeping it on for the duration of the drive home. Once again, roses. It was just the two of you in the car, so you didn't have to hide it anymore.

"Ohhh..." you breathed in pleasure. "goddddd..."

Driving over all those speed bumps was only increasing the pleasure. With his arm outstretched and his hand on the wheel, you couldn't help but notice his muscles. Those sexy fucking muscles. You wished they were holding you against the wall or down on the bed right now.

"Yeah you think it feels good now, babe." C/N said pompously. "I can't wait to hear you scream my name when we get home."

God, even hearing him talk was getting you closer to the edge. His voice was so smooth, so saucy. If butter could speak, it would have his voice.

"Fuck..." you panted.

Another speed bump. This one made your legs quiver.

"You want to cum so bad, baby." C/N observed in a low-toned voice. "I can see it."

"Then fucking let me cum!" you snapped.

"Whoa!" he snapped back at you, pulling into the driveway. "You better watch the attitude or I'm gonna edge you into next week, you little brat."

You rolled your eyes, but you secretly loved when he was dominant like this. You were so goddamn close. You were barely hanging on by a thread. And he was enjoying every second of the torture he was inflicting on you.

"You want to cum? Fine." he said. "But as soon as we get inside, princess, you better cancel everything you've got going on tomorrow because you won't be able to walk."

Finally, you broke. His words produced an intense, powerful orgasm. You whimpered as your legs shook and your eyes rolled back into your head. After a little bit of aftershock, C/N turned off the vibrator, allowing you to breathe for a second.

"You have no idea what you just did, pretty girl." he smirked.

After you both got inside and he led you by the hand to the bedroom, you felt his energy shift. Dom mode was activated. His lips violently attacked yours and he couldn't keep his hands off of your body. You moaned into his mouth as your hands ran through his hair.

"Oh, baby." he breathed. "I'm about to fuck you so good you can't see straight. Strip."

You did as you were told and undressed. He was eager. Eager enough to unhook your bra with his teeth. Once you were completely naked, he pushed you down onto the bed and got on top of you, attacking your neck with his mouth. He left dark hickeys all over your neck as his hands played with your breasts. He was not gentle at all, slapping them around and squeezing them hard enough to leave marks around your nipples. You loved it, especially when he took them in his mouth. His teeth scraping against your nipples felt incredible. It hurt, but in the best way. You couldn't help but moan here and there as his mouth assaulted you.

"I can't believe you're all mine." he said, his hot breath on your skin giving you goosebumps. "My own sexy little fucktoy."

He slid his boxers off and you watched his erection spring free. He was practically throbbing, he was so hard.

"Ride me, princess." he commanded, positioning himself to where you could do so. "Reverse cowgirl."

He wasn't on his back. He was sitting up, leaning his back against the headboard. You got yourself to where you could lower yourself down onto his cock with your back turned to him. Upon feeling him enter you, you moaned again for him. His dick was magical. When you first started having sex with him, you expected to have to fake one or two orgasms every now and then, but your boyfriend had never failed to make you cum.

"That's it, babygirl. Let me stare at your ass while I fuck you."

He had his hands on your hips, rapidly maneuvering them back and forth. As he did so, you started to bounce. It felt amazing. He gave your ass a few sharp smacks, which only added to the pleasure.

"Ohhhh fuuuuck!" you moaned. "C/N!"

"That's right, kitten." he said between his own moans. "You belong to C/N and C/N only. No one else can make your pussy feel this good."

He was right. He wasn't your first, but holy hell, nobody else was able to make you feel the way he made you feel. The day he stopped being able to make you cum would be the day the world stopped turning. With each and every thrust of his cock inside you, you felt all of the negative energy leave you.

"Lean back for me, baby."

You leaned back against his chest, allowing him to thrust upward into you. His cock was brushing your g-spot, which made your eyes roll back. It was ecstasy.

"Your pussy's so fucking wet." he said through clenched teeth. "Feels so good on my cock."

He used his hand to rub circles on your clit, which made you whimper. Everything just felt so fucking good. The combination of his dick pounding into you, your g-spot being touched, and him fingering your clit was beyond belief.

"Yeah," he grunted. "feels good, doesn't it, baby?"

"Mmmm yes!" you could hardly contain yourself.

You never wanted it to end. You were in heaven right now. Your toes curled as you knew you were starting to get close to your high. If he had been fucking you any harder, you would have already come all over his cock.

"Oh god fuck!" you wailed as your body shook.

"Cumming already, princess?" your boyfriend teased, his husky groans and grunts getting deeper and more primal. "Cum for me. Cum for me, baby. Cum all over me."

And just like that, you were screaming. You swear to god you went deaf for a second as you came undone, your juices gushing and spraying everywhere. Your body was so tense. But C/N wasn't done yet. He wasn't gonna stop until he was finished. He continued to pound into you, giving you some painful aftershock. It hurt, but it felt amazing. You couldn't stop twitching, which was making it so much better for him. After a few more big thrusts, his cock started to twitch inside you, signaling to you that he was about there.

"Fuck, baby." he gasped. "Oh fuck...I'm gonna cum...I'm gonna fucking cum, baby!"

Then he let go with a series of deep grunts. You felt his hot liquid shoot into you as he pulsated inside you. After you both took a second to catch your breath and come down, you rolled to his side as he pulled out, his milky cum leaking out of your hole.

"Holy fuck, babe!" he smiled, his face flushed and his eyes glazed over. "I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did."

"It was amazing, baby." you responded, giving him a sweet kiss on the lips.

"I've never loved anyone as much as I love you, Y/N. You drive me fucking insane with how incredible you are."

You blushed as he kissed your cheek, pulling you into him to cuddle. With your head on his chest and his arms wrapped around you, you wanted to stay like this forever. Everything was perfect.

[getyourdirtyhandsoffme]

SKZ REACT TO "PRETEND TO BE MY BF BECAUSE MY EX IS HERE" PT 1

Hyung line!Straykids x Male reader

Warning: gay, probably bad grammar, Ex being a ugly bitch they is. Lino being a bit s3xual but no smut. Might be cringe?! Swearing. Yolo idk fr.

Theme: Fluff, slight-angst or well idk.

BANGCHAN:

3RD POV:

"I know you are in here; your car is parked! Open the door; I just wanted to  talk."The ex kept on banging on the door, his voice getting more and more aggressive as the [Y/N] annoyingly sighed, as he wanted Chan to show up.

At this point, he thought about grabbing the knife from the kitchen and just threatening his ex to make things quicker, but yet again, he didn't want to go to jail, so he just kept on sitting on his couch, covering his ears as the banging continued until it finally stopped.

The reader slowly uncovers his ears, then looks at the side of the front door. He slowly walks up and out of his ears next to the front door to eavesdrop on what is happening.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I don't think it's any of your concerns, mate."

Chan!

The reader quickly opens the door to see two of the men glaring at each other.

The reader quickly looks at [Y/N] with a smirk until Chan pushes him away with a loving smile, hugging the reader and giving several kisses on the cheek.

"Hello, love! I hope this man wasn't bothering you! I hope you got the movie date ready." Chan chuckles, grabbing the reader around his waist.

"What..." The ex stood there in shock, watching the two 'couples' give each other lovey-dovey eyes.

"Hey you, are you going to keep gawking or are you finally going to walk away? I'm taken." The reader comments, side-eyeing his ex as he watches him mumble a few curse words as he walks away.

They both walk back inside, shutting the door behind them.

"Thank you, Chris! I love you so much!" The reader hugs Chan, giving him hard pats in the back.

"I love you too, man. Now let's start the movie date because I brought snacks."

LEE KNOW:

3RD POV:

Lee Know stood there confused, rereading the request over and over again, until he heard running footsteps coming towards him with a shout of "Babe" along with it.

Lee looks up to see the boy smiling, almost happy to see him, but his eyes—something about his eyes—show fear.

The boy opened his arms and gave Lee a hug. Lee was hesitant until he gave the boy a hug, then looked up again to see a stranger walking up to the two of them with anger in his face.

"[Y/N]..." The stranger stopped, then stared at the two.

"Can you stop following me, Eric? I told you I have a boyfriend... I'm not getting back with you." The reader angrily snapped at Eric, then gave a quick peck at Lee Know's cheek, making the boy flustered.

"Come on, this guy? He can't be that good." Eric scoffs, looking up and down at him.

Lee Know tsked at the man, rolling his eyes.

"He is actually, he can cook, he takes care of the cats well, which means he can easily take care of our future children, and not only that, he is even GREAT in bed, even better than you, so fuck off."

Lee Know stood there, just nodding away while his ears turned red. Eric rolls his eyes as he walks away, mumbling curse words at the reader.

The boy sighs in relief, crouching down and petting Soonie.

"So, I'm good in bed, huh?"

The reader side-eyes the man as he smacks Lee Know's knee, clearly embarrassed.

CHANGBIN:

3RD POV:

"Yeah, my boyfriend's going to show up and beat ya ass, that's for sure, Shawn." The reader angrily said this to Shawn, his ex, sounding confident.

"I bet your so-called new boyfriend of yours is scrawny; he can't beat me. Look at me!" Shawn flexes his muscles, his muscle meat showing a bit, but it wasn't as big as Changbin.

"Uh huh, you bet on it?"

Shawn nods, taking out his wallet. "I bet your boyfriend isn't even strong enough to beat me up; you're just bluffing. I bet 200 bucks."

The reader nodded, smirking. He looks around to see if Changbin has shown up. He sees a curly black-haired man wearing a black T-shirt, almost fighting for his life through his big muscles.

"BABE! OVER HERE!" The reader shouted, grabbing half of the people's attention, along with Changbin and Shawn, who stood there in shock.

"Hello, babe! So, this is the ex you were talking about." Changbin stared at Shawn, wrapping his arms around the reader's neck.

"Yeah, so, Shawn, about that bet..."

Shawn still stood there, silently staring at Changbin and looking at his buff body.

"What bet are we talking about?" Changbin whispers to the reader. "You beat the sh*t out of him." The reader replies as Changbin stands there in shock.

"Yeah, the bet... here, please don't beat me up, sir." Shawn tosses the 200 bucks to him as he runs away.

The reader grabs the money and smiles, giving Changbin a quick peck in the cheek. "Thank you, babe."

"Uhhh, yeah, sure." Changbin giggles.

HYUNJIN:

3RS POV:

"Alright, Damien, I don't know who told you to have the audacity to sit in front of me; I told you several times that the seat was taken." The reader grumbles, impatiently tapping the table.

"Well, that person isn't here, so technically, it doesn't matter. You know me; I scare people away, so it won't matter, just like I said." Damien smirks, acting cocky.

"Damn, you're still in that damn bad boy phase, just like in high school." The reader sighs, feeling second-hand embarrassment.

"Because I am a bad boy, people love bad boys just like you like me." The reader kept on looking down, tapping aggressively on the table even more, until...

"What this about my love liking bad boys?" The reader quickly looked up, giving Hyunjin a big smile.

Damien looks up to see Hyunjin staring directly down at him. "And not only that, you in my seat, bad boy." Hyunjin side-eyes the man, gripping his shirt.

"Yeah, get your ass off. My boyfriend is here."

Damien scoffs as he gets up and glares at Hyunjin. "Thanks, bad boy." He smirked as he sat himself down.

"I do hope this CREEP wasn't bothering you, love." Hyunjin says it out loud for all the people to hear, leaving Damien feeling embarrassed and having all eyes on him.

Damien walks away, running off.

"No, for real, though, are you into those types of men?" The reader rolls his eyes, chuckling a bit.

[joaofelix70]

A CRESCENT LOVE, AN EPHEMERAL PASSION | joão félix sequeira.

summary: you and joão spent all the summer together. you even met his friends and brother. could this be the beginning of a crescent love or just an ephemeral passion? his friendship with his ex would ruin everything between the two of you?

author's notes: after the win against luxemburgo, where portugal national team set the record of goals, his ex just posted "mysterious" pics with floki, his dog. joão was also there, almost hidden, actually. we all know she always does it, never assuming anything maturely, but instigating the frustration of the fans who care about him and to make every gossip website and tv show talk about it, just like a teenager who wants attention would act. basically, this inspired me. i really don't hate anyone, by the way. even thought influencers who don't spread any impactful content and nepobabies with no talent and only standard beauty annoys me, i can't lie.

warnings: bad language (of course it's joão saying the words), chaotically humorous almost all the time, but also involving sadness and angst. implicit sex reference, i guess? maybe?

what do you feel when you hear my name? shame? embarrassment?

does your brain even bring you any sign or memory involving me?

do you ever think about me?

are your moments with her comparable to ours?

can we talk? can we communicate?

is it my fault? do you miss me?

your head was drunk for the whirlwinds of questions that piled up and get bigger, like waves. they seemed to be drowning you. the glowing light and peace of your woody brown gaze gives you triggers. his smile remains embedded, in your heart, an eternal home. the numbness and wrapping of his lips, every inch of his tanned skin and firm muscles being appreciated and admired by you. his hair was shiny, soft and full by the salty waters of the european beaches: always caressed for you. his laughs at you giving him the most silly and lazy hairstyles, with you pretending to be a professional who was filming your customer to tiktok.

“do that pose! yes, your hand against your face! now, give me that playboy eye. just like that! you’re doing amazing, sweetie!”

when you get carried away in the game ‘who am i?’ and tried so hard doing the mimes, jumping excitedly and demonstrating your animation in a loud tone, before covering your own mouth and feigning naturalness, just to repeat the same instant acts.

when you made joão watch your random dances as soon as you won at uno and he’d tell how hilarious you were. when you cooked your regional foods and desserts for félix, his brother who’s hugo, alex — the photographer — diogo from the movemind channel and all of his friends. when he used to hold your face, rest his touch on your waist and thighs. tracing his fingerprints across your scalp, reveling in the ethereal smell of your hair, laying his lips against your entire face and stature, exalting you completely: from your ears, neck, collarbone, belly, legs and even your feet. being a gentleman, joão opened the car door for you, he intertwined the hands of you both in every single opportunity and helped you eat: having the cutlery for you to open your mouth and giving you support with the napkin. when you did his goal celebration. when the two of you invented a handshake, along with various inside jokes. for example, when joão posted many videos of him swimming and playing in the ocean.

“hey, flounder! ‘the little mermaid’? i loved it!”

“why am i not your ariel, tho?”

“why you didn’t say you’d prefer to be eric of the real life?”

“give me some respect, i’m the protagonist of this shit!”

“slay, king!”

you remember singing the songs that played in his car in the most chaotic way, using his hand as a microphone and taking the opportunity to kiss all over it and his fancy bracelets. you offered him affection biting his skin and enjoyed acting like his personal masseuse. you called him ‘my prince of portugal’.

“please, don’t become a stranger.” your last words, face to face. the intensity of the summer weeks of vacation, which were already ending, consuming you.

“you know i’d never do that. look, you’re such a unique person, and even though we’re gonna go back to our busy routines, i still wanna keep you in my life. i still wanna be that close to you.” joão declared and they both found comfort in each other’s arms. his perfume granted the beg leave and penetrated your lungs, giving you life. you felt like you shouldn’t let it go, but there was nothing else to accomplish. you were single, so was he. you ask yourself if everything would be different. maybe if you had tried your lips once again: asking him to give a chance to them, to have more. to not leave what you went through, together, in the box of forgotten memories. would that really suffice, though?

"it's obvious that you’d choose the blonde influencer with light eyes, slender body and member of a rich family. the one who was with a formula 1 racer days before she went to meet you. before you just disappear from my life, without saying anything. the one that doesn't show an ounce of authenticity and, of course, affective responsibility. who am i in comparison to her?! right, joão?" your voice flashed the disparity of fragility and indignation, trembling hands clutching the phone.

“y/n, listen to me. you’d never understand it, okay? you’re not inside this relationship, me and her are. you’re seeing it from the outside, just like everyone else. yeah, she was hanging out and making out with other people. so was i with you. but then, some things changed.” john seemed to be busy. echoes of other people's voices ran through the call.

“nothing has happened between us since the vacation, joão. what doesn’t make sense because i thought you were liking me. i only think about you!” you vented out and received silence. his answers tried to become existent and complete. he stammered, the audible sound of his familiar backwards cap being pulled off and his honey-colored hair being rubbed against his own fingerprints.

“do you think i don’t like you? holy shit, y/n. i even thought we could have so much more. a future together and everything. i think about you and i swear in the name of my family, and i already said that they mean the fucking world to me. the thing is: there’s something that still keep me going back to her. i don’t know if it’s because i’m with her since i was younger, but…”

“joão, this is emotional dependence. i’m sorry to tell you this, however, it’s necessary. i care about you. you’re so internally and externally beautiful, precious, successful and talented. you deserve better!” you interrupted him, stepping back and forth.

“y/n, i love her. when i looked at you…”

“she’s all that you see, right?”

“hm… yeah…” félix found himself in a bind. paralyzed, he remained without an answer for a while. the coldness of the material of his gold necklace touches his tongue: a way to combat the nervousness that generates the gnawed nails.

“my toxic behavior wants to help and fix you so badly, but i know i can’t get more involved than that. i’m not the one for you.” the words reproduced by yourself reinforced the fragmentation of your heart.

“j, baby… are you coming or not? i’m waiting for you, floki is waiting for his dad!” you heard that female voice call to him and realized the way that just this factor made his breathing destabilize.

“i think this is officially the end of whatever we had, joão. goodbye!” your voice was unstable and he realized it: sharp as deep, transparent and suffocating waters.

“i wish you the best, y/n. i apologize for not being what you expected, what you needed, and…”

“caralho, joão! que merda! (holy fuck, joão! what the hell?). come on, give me your phone!” the girl began to rant. her heels against the floor were exclamatory. she was running out of patience.

the call is over. again, you were superimposed on the ocean of blazing tears. you tried to convince yourself that everything went the way it was supposed to be.

but was it for real?

[bettyfrommars]

Death Becomes Us

Part 5: The Baptism vampire!Eddie x supernatural!fem!Reader

Summary: You venture into the Upside Down for the first time ever to go to a vampire bar called Sacrament, owned by an older vampire named Jareth (inspired by Jamie Campbell Bower & Eric Northman of True Blood), and end up being recognized by one of the employees. Hints to your past are revealed, and you end up with a new protector. wc: 6.8k

18+Only, mature content, vampire sex, vampire orgy,mention of being covered in blood, mention of someone dying in a car accident, mention of a dead body in a morgue, demobats, wielding a knife, visions of sex, vampire!Eddie.

Masterlist

A/N: A few things to keep in mind while you (hopefully) enjoy this chapter: the Upside Down is a place, but does not exist in the same way as in the show. Eddie's vampire origin story is different than the kas!Eddie origin story. All of the ST characters in this story are not acquainted in the same way they were in the show.

pls no minors beyond this point

-----

Part 5: The Baptism

-----

“Seatbelt?”

Windows open, music blaring, Eddie shifted gear on the GTO and motioned for you to strap in. You noticed that he wasn’t wearing his, but then again he had the immortality thing on his side.

“Mind telling me exactly where we are going?” You asked, clipping your lap belt and adjusting the strap.

“I told you,” Eddie cleared his throat. “A vampire bar.”

“But, I work at a vampire bar,” you added. “It’s not exactly new to me.”

Eddie barked a laugh, clamping his hand way up high on he steering wheel. “Those geeks who go to Main Vein are babies, they are all fairly new to the life. No self-respecting vampire with any real years under their belt would go in there.”

“So, you don’t have any self-respect, I assume?” You chided, being that Eddie had been a frequent flier at Main Vein.

Eddie shrugged. “I’m a baby vampire compared to most. I’m talking about vampires who were turned hundreds of years ago. Maybe even thousands in some cases,” he corrected.

A thought crossed your mind as you looked around at the polished and detailed interior of the vehicle you were in, eyeballing the guitar pick necklace dangling from the rear view mirror. “You’re not taking me somewhere in a stolen car, are you?”

Eddie licked his teeth. “Nah, Princess. This baby is all mine.”

The downtown area of Hawkins turned into suburban houses, and then opened up to a long highway flanked by thick forest as the muscle car zoomed along and you watched it all fly by from your window.

A corner of your brain flashed to a daydream just then. One where Eddie’s hand came over to grab your leg, squeezing it, and when you looked over, he’s licking his lips, eyes roaming your body. “Pull over,” you whisper to him, and he immediately obliges, peeling onto the side of the road, tires spitting up gravel, and whips it into park. Eager mouths meet in the middle, over the console, and his hand darts up to cup your breast and thumb your nipple over your shirt. You reach over to palm his erection, your pussy already throbbing and trickling between your legs. It isn’t long before you’re straddling his lap in the driver’s seat dry humping, bare breasts bouncing, begging him to bite you as his eyes go black.

“Did you hear what I said?” Eddie asked.

“No, I--” you swallowed to wet your dry mouth. “What was it?”

He rested the side of his hand on the dash to point in the direction of a green and white street arrow pointing down at a paved street that curved to the right. “It’s a little jarring at first if you’ve never been, but you’ll get used to it.”

Indeed, you’d never been to the Upside Down, but you had heard the stories, and forgot to exhale a breath stuck in your chest as Eddie fishtailed around the corner and a dust cloud enveloped the car. There loomed a big, white church with round windows and a large bell at the very top; it was enormous but also quaint, with flower baskets hanging from the porch and a well kept lawn. Up ahead, you could see a bridge; an old, covered wooden bridge at the end of a narrow, paved road, with a path leading directly to it, a crescent moon stamp in the dark blue sky.

“You ready?” Eddie asked, slowing down to hit the lip of the road with a bounce.

“Sure,” you replied, eyes ahead, getting closer to the bridge and further from the church.

You tried to fix your eyes when you realized the other end of the tunnel appeared to offer nothing but a pitch black void, and not a glimpse of the other side of the woods, as you would assume.

“What the---” you whispered the partial question to yourself just as the tires met the wobbly wood planks and you were under the shelter of the bridge, heading into a big, gaping nothing.

Eddie turned to get a glimpse of your face as you took in what it was like to go to the other side for the first time, and he tried not to smile, but lost the battle.

“Here we go, Princess,” Eddie mumbled, continuing to keep his foot on the gas without any aid of the break as the GTO met with the inky blackness.

Your our eyes closed reflexively at the way the car seemed to meet air and fall, gravity pulling it down, but only for a second or two before the wheels met with the ground again.

You opened your eyes to find that you were somehow on the same road, but it was also, very different. The grass on either side was dead and the dirt was dry; all of the surrounding trees were just bare limbs and jagged trunks jutting out of the earth. The sky was the color of a purple bruise, and you spotted a few large, odd-shaped birds soaring above.

“Demobats,” Eddie said on an exhale, following your line of sight, answering a question you hadn’t asked.

“Demobats.” You repeated the name as you watched a few loop lazily in the sky while Eddie followed the road and headed back toward the old church. “Do vampires turn into Demobats?”

“Damn, I wish,” Eddie snorted a laugh. “Now, that would be fun. But no, we don’t get to do any of the cool shapeshifting stuff of legends, and let me tell you, I felt robbed when I found that one out.”

Now, your focus was on the old church that you’d passed earlier, mouth slightly agape at the transformation. Matte black exterior instead of white, it loomed like bad news with bars over the round windows and a human skeleton hanging from the top rafters where the old bell used to be. Golden light filtered out from the double story building, and there was a large parking lot to the left filled with cars and motorcycles. A few enormous demobats perched along the roof; waiting and watching.

“The Demobats are a part of a hive mind, but they have free will,” Eddie continued filling you in on the set of Dracula that you had just landed in. “If a vampire bonds with one, the creature becomes a companion or protector.”

“Do you have one?” You asked right away, realizing you surely would’ve spotted a demobat hanging around the trailer park.

“Nah,” Eddie shrugged. “I’m not really a fan of them myself. Plus, it only works if you reside in the Upside Down, I think. Demobats don’t care much for humans.”

You were staring at the ones on the roof as they turned their heads to maintain eye contact with you. “That’s good to know,” you said under your breath.

The front door to the church opened as you passed it and you got a glimpse of the red light spilling out, and the crowd of bodies inside, loud music thumping in your chest.

Eddie waited for two tall, pale vampires with platinum hair in black trench coats to cross the parking lot in front of him before he continued in to park.

“Stay there,” he told you. You watched an abnormally tall and muscular, bald man with tattooed lines down his face get off the motorcycle a row ahead of you while Eddie came around to your door.

He opened it and extended his arm as if showcasing the parking lot. “Shall we?”

Although fascinated by this new peak into the odd world of vampires, the fact that this was not at all “on the way” to the trailer park made you a tad suspicious. What did vampire Eddie have planned for you?

The air was thick—humid without being warm or wet—and it smelled like burning firewood with a tang of metal. “Do you want to take my arm or hold my hand?” Eddie asked, running the tip of his tongue over his top lip, letting his eyes flick down your body. “It’s up to you, but we need to send a message that you are with me. It’s for your safety.”

“Arm is fine,” you swallowed, hooking your elbow with his, bare skin on the leather of his jacket. Behind the church was a dense thicket of forest, and the air looked like someone had just blown the fluffy bits off of a big dandelion. You palmed his bicep, feeling the bulge of muscle there, and he tucked your arm close, pinning it to his side.

From the few vampires you’d already seen in the parking lot and on the steps of the church, they were, indeed, physically much different than the vamps who occasionally popped into Main Vein. A group of guys rolled up on their motorcycles; long hair, earrings, bone jewelry, dressed in all black.

“I think that’s a human,” you noted, whispering to Eddie as you spotted the guy who worked in the produce section of the grocery story you frequented.

“Humans are welcome here, “ Eddie shrugged. “But it’s a huge risk because most of the vampires around these parts don’t follow Mainstreaming rules, they don’t like the peace pact that was made with Hawkins. They’d like it to go back the way it was: all of just hiding down here and coming out to feed in the shadows of night like feral animals.”

He squared his shoulders and stretched his neck as you both made it up the stairs. You passed a huddled group of three vampire women in latex outfits sprawled on the steps who seemed to hiss at you as you walked by.

There was a short line to get in the door, and a tall, dominatrix looking woman in a leather bustier with red hair and knee high stiletto boots was checking ID’s and apparently getting a read on people. You noticed her eyeball you a few times as you waited, zipped close to Eddie’s side.

She framed her hips with her hands and took an intimidating step toward Eddie; the two sized each other up with a serious lock of their eyes, but you noticed Eddie had a small smirk lifting up one side of his mouth.

“Edward,” she arched an eyebrow, the extremity of her heels making her just as tall as him.

“Maxine,” Eddie returned. You were so transfixed by the vampire woman in front of you, you barely noticed when Eddie slipped your arm down and took your hand in his. He squeezed it once, quietly reassuring you.

“Only Jareth calls me Maxine, you know this,” and then all of her attention went to you. “You can call me Max,” she said, looking you over from head to foot.

“She’s with me,” Eddie told her.

“I can see that,” Max inclined her head. “Welcome to Sacrament. What brings the two of you to our little corner of hell this evening?”

“She’s never been to a real vampire bar,” Eddie pumped his hand on yours again; it was smooth and cool, dotted in rough callouses. “Or to the Upside Down, for that matter.”

“A virgin, how sweet,” Max cooed sarcastically. “So, what is this? A date?”

“No!” You said it so fast, it made Max chuckle.

“Wait, what is that smell?” Max sniffed the air, got closer to you, and sniffed some more. She got so close, your noses were almost touching. “I can smell your blood, sweetheart, and damn does it make my mouth water.”

“Max—” Eddie warned.

“I know, I know,” she took a step back. “Okay fine, she’s yours. But I won’t be the only one who wants a taste, I hope you know.”

Eddie knew from the moment he met you that you were special. Not just because of the cotton candy electricity in your blood, but also the way you’d looked at him with those white eyes that first night out between the two trailers. You were human, but you were also something else, and he intended to find out what.

Max stepped back, allowing the two of you to continue on through the main door. Inside, the lighting was dim; all deep red and tangerine hues. From large speakers in the back, the song ‘In darkness you will feel alright’ by Horror Vacui filled the air. A long bar to the right, a few chairs and tables scattered around the middle of the room, and then a large dance floor where vampires writhed, some dancing at lightning speed, as if you were watching a video being fast-forwarded. There were two platforms on either side of the floor where dancers worked their bodies on a pole, slithering and spreading their legs wide. At the far back was a stage of some sort, and you could see a drum kit and a microphone.

You slipped your hand free of Eddie grasp, and he let you, but he stayed close; close enough that his arm was always brushing yours. “Drink?” He asked, shouting a bit over the music.

At the bar, you surprised Eddie by ordering straight whiskey, and then he ordered one of the synthetic blood substitutes called NuBlood. The vampire bartender stared at you with blank eyes for a long time as Eddie made the introductions; his name was Craven and he had long, black hair and a wash of dark tattoos over his chest and arms, exposed under the leather vest he wore.

“I see you brought a snack,” Craven flicked his eyes to you as he handed over the drinks. Vampires had the ability to retract their fangs, but Craven’s were out and long, cutting down into his bottom lip

“If that’s what you’d like to call it,” Eddie gave Craven a final nod and palmed both of the tumblers, determined to carry yours as well, and you followed him to a table.

Taking a sip of your whiskey, you chanced a longer look at Eddie. He had one elbow hooked behind the back of the chair, neck muscles tight as he grazed his full bottom lip with his teeth thoughtfully, his stare fixed somewhere in the distance. But then he looked at you and you lost your nerve, dropping your chin, lowering your glass.

You noticed a middle-aged man dress like an accountant in the middle of the dance floor grinding with one of the male vampires. The accountant had two sets of fang marks on his neck and the two seemed like they knew each other intimately.

“That’s a Fang Banger,” Eddie apparently knew exactly where your attention had gone, and now you were both trying to watch without making it obvious.

You’d heard the term before, but always had your questions to what exactly it meant.

Eddie continued. “Most of the humans who come here like to have sex with vampires and let them drink their blood,” he worked his jaw as he turned the glass in his hand. “And then of course there are humans who like to ingest vampire blood for it’s euphoric highs and healing benefits.”

You turned to face him. “Am I a Fang...Banger now that I drank your blood?”

“Not technically,” Eddie smirked, but shyly, gaze landing on his glass. “But if you’re interested I think I know a guy.”

For some reason, that little flirtatious moment gave you butterflies and you bit your lip, turning your attention back to the dancers on the floor.

“Didn’t you say you had to come here for work?” You were flustered to change the subject.

“I need to pick something up from a guy here,” he answered, ever so vaguely. “Finish these drinks first and then I’ll deal with it.”

That was when you saw him. Or, he saw you---you weren’t sure which happened first.

On the back stage, there suddenly stood a tall, blonde vampire with hair to his shoulders, slicked back from his face. His features were beautiful; perfect almost to the point of being surreal. Black shirt unbuttoned down to his navel, leather pants, fingers and wrists adorned in jewelry, and lips that were almost ruby red against his pale skin.

Max was on stage too, right next to him, talking as she continued to glance in your direction.

The tall blonde vampire’s gaze never strayed from you as he took in whatever information Max was giving him with a tilt of his head.

“Who is that guy on stage that keeps staring over here?” You tried not to look too obvious, leaning closer to Eddie.

Eddie grumbled. “That’s Jareth. This is his club.”

The vampire named Jareth had a very ancient, even otherworldly look about him. Confidence literally oozed from his perfect posture.

It wasn’t long before Jareth and Max were exiting the stage, and parting the crowd, headed in your direction. More like, the crowd parted for them; they were all in awe of his presence.

‘Aw shit, here we go,” Eddie said under his breath, fingering the rim of his glass.

“Well, well, well,” Jareth said with a velvet voice. He kept his arms to his side, and Max had hers folded across her chest. “What do we have here?” He had the lilt of an accent; British, perhaps?

With an air of reluctance, Eddie introduced you, and you followed his lead, getting to your feet, so that the two men would be eye to eye.

Jareth made his way around to your side of the table, sinking in as close as he could without breaching your personal bubble, and took your hand. “The pleasure is all mine,” he told you, bringing the back of your hand up to brush his lips against your knuckles, maintaining eye contact with you. His eyes were so blue, they were almost purple. You didn’t have to glance over to notice the way Eddie stiffened.

“You’re right, Max,” Jareth cooed. “She does smell good enough to eat.”

Eddie moved up closer to you, body flush against your arm. When Jareth finally released your hand, you turned to check in on Eddie, not realizing his mouth would be mere inches from your face, his hand snaking around the back of your hip.

“This is her first time,” Max reported with an air of amusement on her face.

“I’m glad we could be your first,” a smile warmed across Jareth’s face to show that his teeth were perfectly beautiful and white. “You’re just in time for The Baptism.”

You couldn’t have been more confused.

“That is,” Jareth continued, inclining his head at Eddie. “If it’s alright with your babysitter.”

“Only vampires can receive the Baptism,” Max added, smugly. “But you’re welcome to watch, sweetheart.”

In a flash, Jareth was face to face with you, right in your bubble this time, and you flinched a bit as his hand came up to cup your jaw, smoothing his thumb along the scar on your cheek. In a dreamy voice he said: “I do so love a girl who looks like she has stories to tell.”

Eddie seemed to be playing along for the sake of appearances, but you could hear him growl in reaction to the unwanted touch; you could feel it vibrating in his chest. You got the idea that Jareth knew exactly what he was doing by the way he winked at Eddie.

“You go with Max,” Jareth told you. “While Eddie and I finish up some business in my office.”

You gave Eddie a tentative look over your shoulder, wondering if this was a bad idea.

“I promise no harm will come to your little pet,” Max’s voice dripped with boredom and sarcasm. “And I won’t even take a nibble.”

You stayed close to Max, making your way through the sweaty crowd on the dance floor, checking over your shoulder only once to find that Eddie and Jareth were already nowhere to be found. Max’s shiny latex corset laced up with ribbon in the back, and on the exposed skin above was the top of some sort of large tattoo; it almost looked religious in nature like a Mother Mary motif. She led you down a wide stairway lit with red bulbs from above and the walls were painted black. You heard more music thudding below; you could even feel it in your feet.

“Watch your step,” Max warned as you took the final stair in to a hallway that was so dark you had to squint. Then there was another windowless door made of heavy metal, and it was guarded by that scary vampire with the bald head that you’d noticed in the parking lot.

He immediately stood up, flustered at Max’s presence.

Max patted his arm. “We’re just here to watch, Ronnie,” she told him, and he only glanced at you briefly before opening the airtight door with a loud clack and stepping out of the way.

Once you crossed the threshold, you’d be permanently separated from Eddie, and locked behind a bulletproof door. You only had a second to consider this before it clicked shut behind you.

In front of you now was a large room with a DJ spinning music inside a plexiglass box at the far end. The group of vampires who were already there were all too lost in their own world to notice or even care that someone had just come in. You continued to follow Max as you took in the fact that there were yoga mats and shower drains lined up along the floor.

“In here, sweet cheeks,” Max guided, opening another door and flicking a light on. The light was another deep red crimson color, so not much light at all, but you could see that there were three tiers that went up in elevation, and a row of chairs along each level, all facing a large picture window; the window faced the spacious room with the drains on the floor and the yoga mats.

She told you to take a seat, and you found one in the first row, lowering yourself into it with a noted level of hesitancy. In the seat next to you, Max patted your thigh. “It’s a guilty pleasure of mine to expose virgin eyes to the Baptism. I know you’ll love it.”

Again, you couldn’t tell if Max was being serious, or if she was still being flippantly sarcastic.

Over the speakers, an electronic female voice announced “2 minutes until The Baptism” and it was then you heard the rush of footsteps upstairs; vampires coming down to be a part of...whatever this was. The DJ behind the protected enclosure had green and black hair as the dark, pulsing music played, and a bit of fear hitched in your chest, mouth dropping open at the way the bodies flooded in through the doors. They were making out with each other and swarming in one large mass.

The energy down there was different than above. There was something more primal and… hungry. Perhaps a side of these monsters that they didn’t want to or couldn't let other humans see. You were too focused on the scene in front of you to notice the way Max kept glancing over, deeply amused by you.

The feminine, electronic voice began to countdown the seconds from 10, as the vampires danced and undressed each other, eyes black and fangs out. One of the women you recognized from the from steps earlier seemed to be looking directly at you, sneering, licking her pointed teeth, her short black hair spiky around her face.

“We can see them, but they can’t see us,” Max offered.

3...2...1

Your eyes followed the sound of the click: shower heads popped out from the ceiling. The mass of vampires tilted their heads back and opened their mouths, and then a red liquid you assumed was blood shot out of the sprinkler heads like water, raining down on everyone there, soaking them.

That was when the debauchery really started, and you realized what the yoga mats were for.

The blood shower worked them into a frenzy and they began to lick it off of each other, undressing each other as cocks and breasts were exposed, everyone reaching out to fondle their neighbor with unbridled enthusiasm. Some fell to their knees to orally please, and others were flat on the ground, a puzzle of fucked holes and faces, drinking the blood as they also used it for lubrication. Vampires had no fear of contracting STD’s or getting pregnant, so reasoned that it was all fair game. One of the vampires with long hair, wearing an enormous, lifelike, strap-on dildo, flicked her head back and a splash of blood flecked the window in front of you. A few continued to dance around, lost in the music and you had to look away from the fornication, bashful suddenly, but Max found your eyes.

“Have you ever done this?” You asked her. She was poised in her seat, legs crossed and fingers laced over her knee.

“No, never,” she admitted, to your surprise. “But I do so love to watch.”

While two naked vampires fucked doggy style on the floor right in front of your eyes, and the one on their hands and knees sucked another vampire off, you wondered if Eddie had ever done this. You wondered what it would feel like to see him standing out there, watching you, beckoning to you, while naked and covered in blood. The part of you that had ingested his crimson gift whispered that you would let him split you open right there in front of everyone, begging for his fangs sink into your throat.

It took all of your strength not to run into Eddie’s arms when you finally made it back up the stairs with Max. There were only 10 or 15 people on the main floor at that point, most of them human familiars, as the rest of the clientele were still downstairs breeding. The sprinklers were only on for five minutes or so, but it was enough to drench all of them as they fucked each other with insatiable hunger.

Eddie pushed off the bar when he saw you, eyes lighting up with wholesome relief.

“How was it?” He asked, taking note that Max was close behind you.

“Traumatizing,” you answered, even though a part of you had enjoyed it, but that was a part of you he didn’t need to know about.

“It was a pleasure to take your girlfriend’s Baptism virginity,” Max batted her eyes a few times.

Simultaneously, you and Eddie both:

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“I’m not his girlfriend.”

“Whatever you say,” Max goaded, hands on her hips, waiting to see you both out. Craven was not too far behind her, both hands braced on the bar, staring you down with an intensity that seemed unnecessary at the time.

Eddie extended the crook of his elbow to you. “Let’s get you home.”

----------

“I know that girl,” Craven told Max once you and Eddie were long gone.

Max tilted her chin up, regarding him down the end of her nose. “I’m listening.”

“I read about her in an Unsolved Mysteries forum I belong to, it was a really odd story,” he wiped his hands on a towel as he talked. “At least, I’m pretty sure it’s her. That scar on her cheek, it’s unmistakable.”

Max gave a roll of her eyes. “Spit. It. Out. Craven. For fucks sake, I’m rotting internally over here.”

Jareth walked up beside Max, standing close, working his jaw.

Craven leaned forward, resting on his elbows. “There’s more than one story about her, both equally strange. First, supposedly, she was in a car accident, dead by the time the paramedics got there,” he paused for a beat.

Jareth looked out the bars of the front window just in time to see the taillights of Eddie’s GTO glow bright in the distance, on his way back to the crossing.

Craven spread his fingers on the bar as he explained, his face dire. “But, her body was stolen from the morgue, and it was never found.”

Max and Jareth exchanged a look. “So, she’s a ghoul? A zombie? What? I didn’t see any rotting flesh,” Max pushed. “She smells too good to be dead.”

Craven held his hand up. “Okay, but get this---apparently her grandfather ran a funeral home, and she lived there with her dad in the same house with all of the coffins and the embalming and whatnot. The rumors were that her dad, Dr. Wesley, was a complete nut job. He was some kind of genius, flew through medical school, became a surgeon.”

Max took a few steps closer, balancing her hip on one of the stools.

“But then his wife found out she had cancer and passed away 6 months later, when Eddie’s girl was just a teenager. After her mom died, her dad went off the rails. Became a real reclusive mad scientist, had some kind of laboratory in the basement where he brought road kill back to life and returned them to the woods.”

“That brings us back to her being in that car accident and disappearing from the morgue,” he paused for dramatic effect. “In the forum I belong to, a bunch of people suspected that he brought her back to life somehow, because---now listen to this---when he died a year after that, several witnesses said they saw her standing on the porch, clear as day.”

Max rolled her eyes. “If you’re fucking with us, I’m going to be very upset.”

Craven put his palms out as a sign of surrender. “Not fucking with you at all. But, I haven’t gotten to the best part yet.”

Jareth smoothed back his hair, waiting.

“In his will, Dr. Wesley left the house and all of his belongings to a woman by the name of “Dove”, and everything monetarily was handled through a third party. That was just a few months ago.” He took a sip of NuBlood and rolled his neck. “Jump ahead to a few weeks ago and, did you hear about that bus that got t-boned and then flipped over onto the train tracks, pinning all those kids inside?”

Max shook her head, but Jareth nodded slowly, eyes narrowing with his full attention, nostrils flaring slightly.

“And how somehow, miraculously, the bus was pushed off the tracks and out of danger just before the train came? And then the bus was flipped back onto it’s tires so that the kids could get out? Well, about ten of the kids described our new friend to a T, right down to that cheek scar.”

“Of course, no one believed the kids,” Craven shrugged. “And it wasn’t a vampire because it was still daylight out. But those of us who’ve been following this story think she’s reanimated, like Frankenstein’s monster, and somehow it gave her superhuman strength.”

“This is a stupid story,” Jareth intoned. “Of course this is all rubbish. Myth, legend, a ghost story for children.”

Max looked over at the door, as if you might be standing there.

“You mean, like vampires?” Craven offered with a lift of his eyebrow.

Max squinted, remembering how uneasy you had been earlier. “She doesn’t seem very strong to me.”

Craven brought a beer to a human at the end of the bar, and then continued when he came back. “We don’t think she understands her strength. I personally believe it has something to do with lightning. There was a lightning storm the night she died, and there was also lightning the day of the bus crash.”

“What would lightning have to do with it?” Max asked. Her curiosity was piqued, but she didn’t want to seem too eager. “That makes it sound so dramatic.”

“I have no clue,” Craven shrugged. “Maybe the electricity in the air makes her powers stronger, maybe she becomes some kind of lightning rod? I’m not sure, but I would like to find out.”

“She does smell different,” Max mused.

“There are people looking for her. Bad people,” Craven added.

“What kind of bad people?” Jareth smirked. “Certainly not worse than this lot.”

Craven wiped the bar with his rag. “People who think they know what she is, and want to study her. To harness a way to give humans insane strength without turning them into vampires? She’s not in Hawkins because it’s such a great town,” he snorted. “I think she’s trying to hide in plain sight. No one would think to look for her in a place like that.”

Max flicked her attention from Jareth to Craven. “Do you think Eddie knows? About her?”

Craven licked one of his fangs. “He has been known to do freelance bounty hunter work. I wouldn’t put it passed him. Maybe someone is paying him to be her watchdog until they can know for sure.”

“Interesting,” Max smoothed her lips. “I wonder if there’s some kind of reward out for her?”

“I can find out,” Craven wiggled his eyebrows mischievously.

“You two fiends will stay away from her,” Jareth spoke up, eyeballing both of them. “Until I figure out exactly what it is we’re dealing with.”

“Oh shit,” Max flashed an uncertain grin. “You’ve got a thing for little miss monster mash.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jareth frowned.

--------

On the way out of Sacrament in the GTO, rounding the corner along the sparse forest that would head you back toward the bridge, you and Eddie were painfully quiet. There was the soft hum of At Night by The Cure coming from the orange and green lights of the stereo, and you absently noticed a few demobats swooping down close.

The images from the Baptism were still flashing every time you blinked, and so you rested your head on your fist and kept your eyes open until they dried out.

“Thank you,” Eddie cleared his throat. “For, being cool about all of that tonight.”

He really hadn’t given you a choice. “Um, you’re welcome.”

Internally, Eddie was kicking himself for ever taking you to Sacrament, or the Upside Down in general. He should’ve known Jareth and Max would notice there was something different about you and take an invested interest. Jareth was a much older, stronger vampire, but Eddie wouldn’t let him get close to you without putting up a fight.

“Did you take care of whatever business you came to do?” You wondered allowed, assuming that he made some clandestine exchange with Jareth.

Eddie sighed. “Yep. It’s all good.”

You were about to be nosey and ask exactly what it was he went there to do, when something banged into the grille of the car, making Eddie curse and swerve, slamming the breaks on before the GTO careened into the dead forest.

“Fucking bats,” Eddie hissed, throwing the car into park with a grunt.

The erratic swerve made your adrenaline surge and sent a wave of heat over your flesh. Dust pooled up around the windows and you struggled to see what was out there in the misty, purple gloom. Out in the middle of the street, in the glow of one of the GTO headlights, face down and wings wide, tendrils spread out, was one of those big, spooky demobats you’d seen perched on the eaves of the church.

You noticed it’s wing twitch, and one of the octopus tendrils curled up slowly as if it was trying to move but couldn’t. It didn’t matter what kind of horrifying, killer beast this was---you hated to see any animal suffer and, before you knew it, your hand was on the door handle, cranking it open.

“Wait!” Eddie gripped your arm. With the door open a crack, you snapped a look at him over your shoulder. Eddie checked up through the front window to see if there were any more demobats close by. “What are you doing? Those things are dangerous.”

“It’s hurt, Eddie,” there was an unmistakable determination in your eyes. “I just want to move it out of the street. Maybe its just stunned.”

Eddie’s stare got hard. “That thing out there will eat your face off and not think twice about it.”

Eyes locked on each other, the both of you realized at the same time that your lips were close, noses only mere inches from touching. Eddie’s eyes flicked to your lips, and then back up again, taking in a sharp sip of air.

Be it the bleeding heart you’d inherited from your mother who was always taking in stray pets to nurture and raise as her own, or from watching your father try to save and resurrect every bit of road kill he stumbled across in that last decade of his life, but you couldn’t let it lay out there vulnerable and in pain. Eddie recognized this determination in your countenance, and released your arm.

On a frustrated exhale, he reached across your legs to open the glove box. “Just wait for me, okay?”

He pulled out a butterfly knife, flipping it open with a few deft flicks of his wrist.

“What’s that for?”

He made a stabbing gesture. “If it’s mortally wounded, I’ll have to put it out of it’s misery.”

You stepped out of the vehicle, waiting for Eddie to come around the front of the car and meet you there.

The demobat lifted another tentacle, making a shrill, squealing noise, and then went still again.

“We can’t take it home with us,” Eddie warned. “That is out of the question.”

You had no idea what you were doing. It was face down, but you knew the thing had a mouth of teeth and they seemed incredibly strong and fast.

“Just help me...move it off the road so it doesn’t get squished by another car.”

Eddie did not like this. This thing wasn’t a kitten or a turtle; it was more of the crocodile/shark variety with no real motivations outside of killing.

You knelt down next to it, Eddie positioned above you with the knife, ready to execute if it reared up and tried to bite you. The thing made a little, sad mew noise, and it compelled you to make the nurturing choice to run your fingers along the spine of its wing to comfort it.

“Shhhh,” you coaxed. “You’re going to be okay. We’re not going to hurt you.”

The demobat jerked at your touch, but was still too stunned to do any more than that.

“Okay, you grab one wing and I’ll grab the other---” but just as you said it, one of the slimy, jellyfish tentacles wrapped softly around your wrist.

Eddie bolted forward, thinking maybe he’d need to cut the fucker off, but you stopped him with your other hand. The tentacle gave you a little squeeze before slipping loose again, falling to the pavement with a smack.

“Okay, let’s get this over with,” Eddie huffed. You both pinched a fleshy wing at both ends and were just about to lift up when the demobat screeched louder than ever, flapping free of your grasp and up into the air.

It spun around mid-flight and shrieked like a siren, exposing the jagged teeth in its gapping maw, dripping with tendrils of saliva. The demobat did not look happy.

Eddie dove in front of you, his eyes black and his fangs out, ready for battle, but the bat only screeched again, this time with less heat, and turned to hobble away; one wing not working as well as the other.

Your shoulders sank and your forehead fell to Eddie’s arm, sighing with relief.

“Yeah,” Eddie watched the thing go as it flew low to the ground for a while before scooting higher up in the sky. “Please don’t ever do that again,” he mumbled to you around the fullness of his ejected fangs. He didn’t move though, because now your cheek was resting on his arm and your hand was on his lower back, and he wanted to turn and kiss you so bad. But then you moved and the moment was over.

Back in the car, as Eddie stuffed in behind the wheel, you clicked your seat belt on and said, “I think I’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

“That makes two of us,” he returned, checking the sky for more low-flying creatures before he got back on the road.

Exiting the Upside Down through the old, covered bridge gave you a deep sense of relief. For the first time, you couldn’t wait to get back to your shitty trailer and your wholly ordinary life. Maybe you weren’t ordinary, but you really wanted to be, and the people and places of Hawkins were helping you to embrace that title more and more every second.

The two of you did not return to Hawkins alone.

Your secret companon flew low behind the GTO in the bridge, and then coasted high above in the sky once it was free from the Upside Down, reveling in the cool night air that did not burn her throat. The demobat you’d helped in the road kept pace with the roof of car as a shadow, following out of sight, and darting in through the trees when necessary.

She was your demobat now, and she wanted to keep you safe.

-----

[soobinskii]

UP ALL NIGHT(CLUB) PART ONE.

a/n : this took quite a bit but i'm glad to finally have it out! next part may be around the same or longer. enjoy <3

word count : 2k+

soobin and i were getting ready to go to jackson's party. THE jackson wang's party. we know it's about to be an absolute rager. i decided to wear a dress that would suit a club; a little black dress, with an open back.

as i step out of our shared room in the apartment, he looks me up and down then proceeds to grab my waist and spin me around, slapping my ass in the process.

"if we didn't have to leave in 5 minutes, this shit would be torn apart, and all over the floor right now. you look sexy as hell." soobin says, smirking and raising his eyebrow as he speaks curtly.

i smile at him, and tell him "if we didn't have to go, you'd be balls deep inside of me right now." while giving him a feigned innocent look, a glint of mischief in my eyes.

he laughs and grabs the keys to his car, tells me to follow him and of course i do, who am i to not listen to soobin?

he opens the door to his high-class, luxury car for me and gets in the driver's seat, looking absolutely ravishing in his simple outfit of a black polo and blue jeans.

the way his jeans hug his thighs? it makes me want to suck on his fat cock.

we head off to jackson's party, already hearing the heavy bass and smelling weed from down the block. i'm suprised he hasn't gotten any noise complaints yet. soobin parked a bit down the street, so we get out and he grabs my hand then proceeds to take me down to jackson's house. as we enter, there's basically a wall of smoke that hits us, we swear we could have gotten second hand high instantly. jackson spots us and comes over to us, eyes completely bloodshot & stumbling a bit, "heeey!! (y/n), soobin! y'all look great." he's basically talking in slow motion, high off of his ass (definitely close to greening out). we giggle, "very nice to see you jackson, glad to be here." as jackson makes room for us to enter, we shuffle in through the doorway.

soobin goes to the kitchen to get a drink, i go sit with eric, seungcheol, mingi and jaemin on the couch as they pass around a blunt. "mind sharing?" i ask them. mingi replies, "absolutely not doll, we've got so much shit to share." and passes me a fat, heavily rolled blunt.

i inhale it and that shit hits me almost instantly, i cough a bit and seungcheol rubs my back as i pass it to him. "you good? i know that shit's strong. a lil' thing like you doesn't have a high tolerance." he states with a slight pout, and i nod my head while taking a sip of the fruit punch from his hand.

i hear mingi giggling and i slap his shoulder, "shut up bitch, you were just choking down vodka." seungcheol retorts to the younger and mingi rolls his eyes between giggles.

i look over to the dance floor and see jiung and keeho, they're dancing to 'how deep is your love', the most typical 'party' song to ever exist. i think about joining them, but watching is more fun. especially since i feel like i'm planted down into the couch, letting the music flow through my veins and the bass pulse throughout my muscles. i feel like i can hear every single word and beat in my bones.

i look over bit more and find soobin playing a drinking game, about 4 shots deep and it's only been about 30 to 40 minutes since we got here. i soon realize that his close friend, beomgyu is taking the shots for him, and he's taking blinkers off of a pen- he never was much of a drinker. i can tell he's stoned from here, he's moving slow and laughing a lot more than usual. he always looks so good while he's high, he always looks amazing, but there's definitely something about his low, red eyes and tilted smile.

there's just something different right now, the way his hair is pushed back, shirt perfectly fitted to his body line, the look on his face as he's trying to focus but is too giggly to do so.

i decide to text him, "soob, need you, now."

i watch him as he checks his phone and his gaze meets mine, he nods and puts up a finger, telling me to go and wait upstairs. i decide to find an empty guest room, after the initial startle of seeing jihoon hitting his blue bong in one of them, not expecting him to be there, i wave, smile and leave. i find a room down the hall and text soobin, "got it." he sends a thumbs up emoji back and lets me know that he's on his way up.

he comes in, while smirking and trying his best not to giggle. his eyes are fully red with low lids, his hair's messy and pushed back enough to show his eyebrows & forehead. he comes up to me, flips me onto his lap and pulls me in for a messy kiss. i taste his vanilla chapstick mixed with some random fruity drink on his lips. our tongues clash together with a messy mix of spit and teeth as we start making out. he rolls my dress up a bit and starts rubbing my heat through my underwear. i sigh into his lips as i feel his fingers roll against me.

he pulls my underwear to the side and groans, "fuck you're wet, all for me, hm?"

i nod and try to hide my face in between his neck and shoulder, but he lightly pulls my hair, "uh-uh.. wanna see your pretty face as i make you cum all over my fingers." he looks up at me with his red, hazy eyes and inserts two fingers.

i gasp out and bite my lip, his long fingers stretching me out- especially at the angle we're at.

"always takin' my fingers so fuckin' well, 's like you were made for me.." he slurs out, drunk on the atmosphere. he's biting and sucking at my neck & collarbones. i feel myself coming closer to the edge, the familiar warmth at the bottom of my stomach, the shake of my legs, and my eyes tearing up and unable to focus.

soobin takes notice of this and starts picking up his pace, his fingers slipping in and out of my messy heat with the perfect twist of his wrist. i grab his wrist, "fuck, bin- cumming-" i moan out and he giggles as i release onto his hand. my essence drips down into his palm and he licks it up, kissing me after.

i taste the sweetness of my cunt on his lips and tongue. as we pull away, a string of saliva connects us and it averts my gaze to his lips; it looks like he has lipgloss on, knowing it's from me, my face heats up and i stare at his lips.

after bringing me down from the aftershock of my orgasm gently, he helps me stand up, off of his lap and fixes my undergarments and dress for me, then proceeds to fix his collar.

"you ready to go back?" he smiles at me softly as he asks. i nod in reply, a newfound shyness due to the afterglow of our previous activities. soobin holds onto my hand as we travel to & down the stairs, treating me as porcelain so i don't slip.

we both plant ourselves on the big L-shaped couch that i was previously on, now containing mingi, seonghwa, seungcheol, johnny, and taeyong. mingi looks at me and i see his eyebrows raise up behind his bangs "holy shit, you gotta few.. uhm.." as he motions at his neck. i giggle and raise my eyebrow, "pass me the damn blunt."

he follows my request and i take a fat hit and pass it to soobin. he takes a puff and passes it off to seungcheol, while turning to me. he pulls my lips open and blows smoke into my mouth. i inhale it and he rubs my cheek after and smiles.

i look over at the dance floor and i see jiung, keeho, mingyu, yunho and "big matthew" dancing to another random song on the playlist- mostly jiung leading.

i turn to the dining area and see jackson, seonghwa, hongjoong, intak, vernon, and yuta sitting around the table with a small notepad. most likely talking about drug deals running through their company "alchemist subs" and they all look content yet focused, that's how i know sales are going well & the company is flourishing. the boys always give me and soobin deals whenever we buy off of them, very good deals at that.

"(y/n)," soobin says, grabbing my shoulder gently. "i'll be right back, i need some fresh air." he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his blue raspberry vape. i nod, and let him know that i'll be out in a second.

seungcheol leans over to me and says, "you know, buisness is doing well, so i could possibly get you some better deals. we're selling our shit for a little bit more- like 5 percent more- so we can undercharge you more." he shakes his head at mingi when he passes the blunt off and passes the rest off to jaemin.

"you know, jackson really likes you and soobin. he's always talking so highly of you guys. therefore, we get to give you guys the highest deal; and even if our stock is first come, first serve, he always makes sure to save a lot for y'all." he smiles, his dimples making crescents into his cheeks.

"thank you, cheol. i really appreciate it. especially with all the shit me and soobin have been through lately.." i scoff and shake my head. seungcheol pats my head and nods, "if you ever need anything, weed, food, to talk- anything at all! you can call me. love ya (y/n)." he pulls me to him and gives me a tight hug, and i reciprocate, greatful for everything he's done for me.

i excuse myself and go to soobin outside, wondering what he's gotten up to.

as i step out the door, i see him standing with yeonjun, joshua, and wooyoung. i walk up to them, greeting them.

"(y/n)? it's been a while! good to see you." joshua says, pulling me in for a hug, "you look high as fuck." wooyoung giggles, hugging me next and rubbing my hair.

"i am, a few others and i were doing some puff puff pass in the house." i lightly snort as i fix my hair from wooyoungs ministrations on it.

"ahhh.. were mingi and seungcheol in there? typical of them, they're always smoking weed. i was over at mingi's place with san a few days ago, and it smelt of straight pot. i get worried about him sometimes y'know?" wooyoung rambles and speaks fast, yet i understand every word.

"i get you. i'd be worried if someone was smoking like they get paid to do it too." i shrug, "have you ever talked to him, or asked him about it?" i ask as i cross my arms and lean against the wall, looking over to the orange and pink sunset then back at wooyoung.

"nah, i haven't. didn't wanna feel like i'm invading.. but that's most likely a good idea, i'll be doing that soon. after the party and the hangover from the party." he chuckles, "so like.. a few days. these parties are intense." wooyoung trails off, getting lost in thought while pulling his phone out and putting something into his notes.

joshua starts talking, "anyways, i'm really glad i came, i just got back from the states a few days ago. tours are always extremely stressful.. so, i figured i'd let loose a little." the sides of his eyes crinkle while he smiles, "jackson's parties are always something to lock in your memories. good, the bad and the dirty."

soobin agrees, "tonight has most definitely been a night to remember. this is his biggest party in a while, definitely because summer's coming up."

i add on, "oh yeah, everyone's here now, just to get a feel for the summer-" i get cut off as i hear jaehyun yelling into the house, "then come out pussy, come fight me."

we all turn our heads to eric coming out of the house and pushing jaehyun by the shoulders. "the fuck did you just call me? i'm not no fuckin' pussy. i think you're jus' throwing that word around 'cause you've got your head all wrapped up in trying to get your dick wet, but can't"

joshua, wooyoung and yeonjun all gasp in unison, those are fighting words (even if you're intoxicated). soobin and i look at each other, eyes wide and adrenaline coursing through our veins. i can hear my heartbeat in my ears. only specific people know what happened at one of jackson's former party, and none of them dare to speak about it.

whenever someone fucks with jaehyun, or eric, no one knows what's about to go down...

ending a/n : i'm so upset that all of these might be formatted oddly because i write in the notes app 😭.. please consider reblogging if you enjoyed <3

[ericsprincess]

down for your love

You take your car to a car shop for a repair. Your mechanic fucks it up even more. 

~~~

“Hello,” you open the shop door and walk in. There is just an older guy sitting behind a desk. He looks up at you, with a questioning gaze. 

“My name is Y/L/N, I got a phone call today about my car? Something about some unexpected issue? I think it might have been you on the phone, we made an agreement that I would come later today to assess,” you introduce yourself and see his face light up as he remembers. 

“Ah, yes, miss Y/L/N, yes I remember now. I am Mr. Kim, and I am the owner of this shop. I deeply apologize to you, but there has been an unexpected issue with your car,” he shakes your hand and even bows a little. He looks really apologetic, so you already start bracing yourself for whatever unexpected trouble is awaiting you today. 

“What happened? I think it was just some routine fix? Did you find something wrong with the car?” you worry. 

“Uh, no, you see, uh, it’s just that our mechanic that was working on your car, you know, he’s just an apprentice, and..uhhh…he accidentally broke the replacement part, I am really sorry for that,” the old guy babbles and his face is red. You fight the urge to close your eyes and pinch your nose. Great. 

“B-But, don’t worry,” continues the old guy. “We’re gonna order a new part and you won’t be charged for it. It will just take some time again to arrive and I also needed you to come here to sign the additional order paper,” he concludes and you just sigh. Awesome, another at least a week without a car, just Uber with its sleazy drivers.

“Ah, okay, where do I sign?” you ask, and he hands you the papers. 

“Here, miss. Also, Eric will show you the car, just a second- ” the old man says and turns towards the back to yell “ERIC!!!! Come here and show miss Y/L/N your fuckup!!!” he turns back to you with an awkward laugh. “I’m sorry. He’s a good boy and actually good with cars, just sometimes he gets a bit airheaded and spaces out. I guess he thinks about girls too much, or something,” grumbles the old man, when a man appears in the door leading to the back of the shop. He’s very young, early twenties at most - an adult, but still with a lot of boyishness around him. He’s wearing his black uniform overalls with the top part off and tied around his waist, and just a white muscle shirt tucked in, all smudged in oil stains. Actually, he’s dirty everywhere, even on his face and nice, muscular arms. He’s not very tall, but seems nicely fit and his face is cute too, even despite being currently crumpled in anxiety. 

“Uh, hello? Miss Y/L/N?” he asks awkwardly. You open your mouth to reply, but the old guy cuts in. 

“Eric! Take miss Y/L/N to the back and show her everything. Also,” he turns to you. “Eric can also drive you home in one of our cars, as an apology from us for causing you trouble today, if that’s okay with you?” 

“Yes, sure, thank you” you reply. That’s actually nice of them, you came straight from your office and your feet already hurt a lot from your heels. The pencil skirt you’re wearing is also not very comfortable. So you just say goodbye to the owner and go after Eric to the back of the shop, where your car is parked in a big garage amongst all of the tools and spare tires. 

Eric leads you to your car, opens the hood of it and leans forward. “Soo..uhh see this part right here?” he points to something. You have barely any idea about the car internals beyond what you learnt in driving school, but you still lean forwards next to him. 

“Uh, which one again?” you asked, confused. 

“Right here, see?” Eric points out and looks back at you, checking if you got it now. Except - his eyes slide right down your face and end up on your cleavage. And today, his eyes can feast - the weather is getting too hot, so you’re wearing the thinnest blouse you could find that is office-appropriate, and while leaving work you unbuttoned the first few buttons, leaving your cleavage and a bit of a bra exposed.  

It takes you a second to notice him looking and another second for him to collect his sight and look back at your face. He’s blushing. Awww, you think, you find it a little adorable that he was not able to help himself and stares, but still is innocent enough to feel embarrassed about it. 

“Ah, I think I see it now,” you reply with a smile and he turns back towards the engine and continues, a bit nervously. 

“Yeah, so, this is the part I had to replace, and..uh, when I was tightening the bolts, I, I guess I was distracted, and I tightened it too strongly and part of it snapped, so..uh, I really apologize for that,” he stutters. You feel a little bad.

“That’s okay, I guess,’” you smile kindly and straighten up. “At least you’ll know for the next time to keep your focus and not get distracted.” 

He nods and you can really see his inner fight to not stare at your tits again and also the moment he loses. You can feel your nipples getting hard under the weight of his look, and you know that he must see it too, they are probably showing through your thin bra and blouse. 

You can’t help it but you feel really flattered by the effect you seem to have on him. Especially since he’s so young. It’s not that you’re old, the age difference is just a few years, but you have never gone for younger guys before. Now you can see the appeal. 

“Are you getting distracted again?” you tease him and he gets immediately red. “Your boss said something about driving me home, would you be okay to do that?” you snort and he hurries to assure you. 

“Yes, miss, no worries! Let’s go, I’ll show you the car,” he takes you to the outside parking lot and leads you to a quite nice car. Even awkwardly hurries to open the passenger’s door for you. How cute.

He jumps to the driver’s seat, buckles up and turns the engine on while you’re telling him your address. He nods, apparently he knows where that is and off you go. 

The drive is somewhat silent and awkward. You notice that he’s a good driver, he has the style of someone who grew up around cars and was never afraid of driving. But in spite of that, he’s clutching the steering wheel tightly and keeps peeking at you, as if your presence made him nervous. 

And once he notices you’re actually unashamedly looking at him, he gets nervous even more. 

You stretch and let out a sigh, on purpose and his breath hitches. His ears are red now and you decide that it was enough of a tease. 

You put your hand on his thigh. He jerks and almost swerves the car off the road. 

“Stop the car somewhere on the side before you make us crash, would you?” you lean to whisper to his ear and he just nods and does exactly that. 

He picks a nice, semi-hidden spot next to some trees, so you take the opportunity, quickly unbuckle your seatbelt, hop over the console and sit straight on his lap. 

“One question. Do you want this?” you ask him.

“Yes,” he doesn’t even hesitate. “Yes, please,” he breathes out, looking at you as if he’s scared that if he even as much as blinks, you will change your mind. 

You don’t waste time and you unzip his overall pants and pull out his cock. He’s already hard and leaking, the tip almost purple. You raise your eyebrow. “You’re already so hard?”

He laughs, embarrassed. “I’ve been hard since I’ve seen you in the office,” he admits. 

You raise yourself up a little on his lap to move your panties to the side, your pencil skirt is already bunched up around your hips. You’re also already wet, so you just slide his cock into you and sit back down comfortably. He’s a decent size and thick enough so you can feel him in you nicely and you slowly start to ride him, your holding his shoulders. 

He looks like he’s summoning all of his strength to not cum on the spot and keeps staring at your tits that are right in front of his face. 

“You can touch, you know,” you breathe out, and he hesitates “I’ll get you dirty.” 

“I don’t care,” you reply and unbutton your blouse. He takes your tits into his hands and squeezes and kneads them while you keep riding him and sighing from pleasure. 

He pulls your bra down to make your tits pop out and squeezes them like that, leaving oil prints all over. 

“Suck on them,” you order him and he doesn’t waste a second to latch on one, you lean a bit forward and almost suffocate him while he’s sucking on your nipples in a complete bliss. He puts his hands on your ass, guiding our movements and tempo. 

You’re riding him quicker now and you can hear the squelching noises from how wet you are, together with the sound of Eric sucking on your tits. You’re close and you speed up and he whines and moans. 

He’s close too and your tempo is almost frantic when you finally cum and in a few seconds you can feel him pulsating in you. You fall forward, tightly hugging him while you’re both spasming in your orgasms. He whines, sweaty face nuzzling to your neck as he’s cumming inside of you. 

When it’s finally over, you take a moment to relax and take a few deep breaths, and then you’re slumping back to the passenger’s seat, trying to get a hold of yourself. 

Eric is just sitting with a blank stare, like his world was completely flipped, so you laugh and wave your hand in front of his eyes, until he snaps out of it. 

“Let’s go?” you smile. 

He hurriedly tucks his cock back into his pants, not caring about all the mess on his crotch from his cum and your juices and starts the engine. 

The rest of the way to your house doesn’t take long, and suddenly he’s pulling up to your driveway. 

You turn to him. He’s still completely messed up, messy hair, oil stains everywhere, now with added cum and other sex-related mess. He’s still dazed. So cute. 

“Do you wanna come up for a shower?” you ask mischievously. 

He looks at you, blushes and smiles. He turns off the engine. 

[rupertgayes]

How would you pitch watching Due South to someone who doesn't know it?

THE PREMISE: mountie from the northern reaches of canada goes to chicago to avenge dead dad (also a mountie), gets into buddy-cop shenanigans with a detective. said detective leaves the show in season 3 and gets replaced by another detective, shenanigans continue to ensue. there's also a dog. he's very cute.

THE PITCH: honestly, after being in the spn fandom and having most of popular culture awash with prestige shows (that are not spn, but like spn are typically dark and gritty and like killing characters off too) and having most of the popular media landscape try to cover their collective asses by having an aloof, 'you-can't-make-fun-of-this-because-we're-not-taking-it-seriously-ourselves' air, it was truly refreshing to sit down with a close friend of mine and check out this show.

i'm being completely serious when i say there's a certain je ne sais quoi about this show. is it because it's from the 90s? perhaps. is it because it's canadian? maybe. i wasn't even alive when this show first started airing and i'm not a media analyst. it basically takes the premise of the dudeley do-right cartoon and asks 'okay, but what if that was like, a real guy?' and fucking runs with it to the wildest heights. it's a comedy, but it's also so bizarre in some ways that it makes it a truly unique treat to watch. i love psych and brooklyn 99 for having a comedic procedural aspect, and neither of them are comparable in whatever it is that due south is doing.

there's honestly a lot of heart and soul in the entire show, and it has the ability to shift from just being comedic to having drama, mystery, and moments that pull at your heartstrings. it's a show that you can enjoy on the surface as a fun episodic show with fun characters and fun moments, but it also lends itself quite well to extrapolating on the characters, their motivations, etc. (and by etc i'm also including any shipping you might want to do).

i won't say it's a paragon of DEI, but again, i think it has a level of earnestness which makes any slip-ups it does have something i can kinda view with indulgence, versus shows that are making the same (or worse) mistakes 20+ years after this show already ended. these characters are treated with a level of dignity and respect, and i think overall the characterization is pretty consistent - there are some shifts happening between seasons 1-2 and 3-4, but i feel like it has more to do with budgets, a change in creative team, etc., versus writers not 'getting' certain characters.

there's also a lot of memorable episodes, scenes, bits. i think the latter seasons are more campy (my favorite) and some eps from s1 and 2 make for legitimately some great television. even the more mid episodes have something worthwhile, too. some of my fave moments in no order:

fraser (the mountie) saving and talking to? a rat in a strip club

also him going to a leather club

twice

and meeting a mountie in a latex version of his red serge uniform

using a tarp as a parachute

mafia egg conspiracy

aliens??

due south but make it silence of the lambs a little bit

performance arsonist

lake pirates? ghost ship?

also why are most of the major bad guys here doing some form of environmental crime? get your captain planet on ig, i'm into it

also fellow cops can also be bad guys. acab ig??

sick muscle cars eric kripke himself would've enjoyed. sometimes they get set on fire tho

due south but make it to wong foo thanks for everything

fraser running away from women so he doesn't have to kiss or interact with them

way too much time in closets, in general.

fellas is it gay to ask your new partner of one week maybe to pretend he's a woman so he can decide if he finds you attractive

there are red ships and green ships but no ships like partnerships :)

and to reiterate about the dog: there's a dog who's half wolf and all deaf and fraser can talk to him 'because he (the dog) reads lips'

his dead dad shows up too sometimes

anyway, it was really nice to watch this show for the first time, there are still moment i scream-laugh at because they're just so ridiculous and i'd never catch any other moments like that in any other show. i definitely see why there's still active fans for it thirty years later. there's also some wild shipping fodder here, which is at least partially why there are still fics getting written for these guys today. destiel if the cw weren't cowards etc etc. when i watched the finale, i cried tears of joy because while i'd miss the characters, they got an ending that actually seemed to fit, instead of it being a rush job, which is not unique to spn but, you know.

also you can watch it for free on youtube rn.