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dumbass-mha-simp · 9 days ago

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The Hunter & His Prey

Roger Barel + Fem.Reader

cw - sub fem reader, smut, predator/prey, dubcon, chasing n hiding, semi-public|outdoor sex, size difference (big dick roger), choking/throat holding, fingering, piv, dacryphilia, roger calls reader pup/puppy/bitch, not proofread :p

word count - 2.7k

a/n - this is the first time i’ve written for roger so it may be ooc and/or complete shit (also my first time writing for ikevil at all so i apologize for any mischaracterization). on a side note, if anyone has any suggestions for character studies on the ikevil men pls let me know :’)

Wandering through the garden, it felt like something was watching you. You glance towards the castle, half expecting to see prying eyes peering down from arched windows, but the glare of the early evening sun gives away nothing. You continue deeper into the sea of deep green and late blooms. Autumn was looming with a perpetual chill that clung to the mornings and well into the night. It’s most evident in the flowers, however. A few of the trimmed hedges and well-kept bushes already bare of the early blossoms.

As you casually tread down the well worn path, the uneasy feeling returns. The hairs on your nape rise with a chill that has nothing to do with the setting sun. You cast a wary glance over your shoulders once again. Perhaps Liam was playing a trick on you. Ever since he learned your susceptibility to easy scares, he’d been known to jump out of corners and use his invisibility as a party trick to make you yelp.

But the garden remained silent, eerily so. A breeze passed through, sweeping a few strands of hair into your face as you try to ignore your growing paranoia. You tell yourself you’ve grown too accustomed to living in the shadows, always lurking and waiting for some sinister scheme to come to light. Maybe it’s done something to your psyche, rewritten the part of your brain that could function without being on edge constantly.

You’re still mentally berating yourself when you turn the corner of a tall rose bush. A quiet shriek dies on your tongue when your gaze meets Roger’s. Maybe it was because of your already paramounting unease, but the sight of him standing there sent your pulse spiking. You try to smooth the front of your skirt to keep some semblance of couth intact, but the look in Roger’s eyes had your lips snapping shut on whatever remark you were about to make.

“You have three minutes to hide.”

You had only been running for a minute at most, but you were already gasping for breath. The adrenaline stole the air from your lungs and captured your heart like a vice.

Three minutes.

His words, in that gravelly tone, rang in your ears under the incessant thundering of blood rushing in your ears.

You made it to the edge of the forest that surrounded the castle, the undergrowth darkened by the thick canopy of leaves. You keep running, your soles slipping every few paces on slick rocks or moss-covered logs. The trim of your skirt was already stained with splattered mud as you ran. It felt foolish, to think of possibly outrunning and evading a man like Roger, even not taking into account his inhuman hearing. But the thought triggered an undoubtable thrill down your spine, making your mind dizzy with anticipation and maybe an underlying fear.

Two and a half minutes in, and you forced your pace to slow. You couldn’t run forever, you knew it as well as he did. Sucking in sharp lungfuls of air, you opt to hide. You don’t notice the trembling in your hands as you crawl under the hollow of a half fallen tree trunk. You pull your legs to your chest, arms wrapped around yourself like you could make yourself disappear if you just hugged yourself a bit tighter.

Surely your time is up by now. You don’t doubt he’s somewhere in the woods, listening to the frantic heart that beats futility in your chest, counting the breaths you attempt to stifle with a hand clasped over your mouth and nose.

Every sound you hear from your dark hiding place puts you on edge—a bird crying from the branches above your head, a squirrel pouncing through a trail of leaves. But then came the unmistakable sound of heavy boots against fallen twigs. The undeniable scuff of leather soles on smooth stone. Then, the pause.

The air froze in your lungs, as if the world around you suspended itself like a marionette with its strings pulled taut. Your hair stood on end, a shiver raced down your spine and a lump came to your throat. It was him.

One step. Then another. The third brought the bottom of his legs just into view from where you were hidden and it took everything in you not to cry into the sweaty palm of your hand.

”My pup’s heart sounds like it’s about to give out.” You watch with wide eyes as he takes two more steps, the tips of his boots pointing toward you. You know you’ve lost. “I can smell it too—your fear and desperation.”

Your instincts tell you to press yourself back further, the bite of bark digging into your spine as he comes to stand only an arm’s length from your little hiding spot. You watch in mute horror as he kneels, dark eyes pinning yours with an ease that has you crying out despite yourself. The sound only seems to satisfy him, the smirk on his face sending another chill through you.

You scramble then. Mind blank on everything else except ‘run, run away, don’t stop’. He lets you stumble from the hollow, watching with rapt amusement as you trip over your own feet trying to flee again.

“I have to admit, I’m a little disappointed in your initial hiding spot. Surely you didn’t think you’d actually be safe there?”

No matter how fast you ran, it felt like he was always ten steps behind you. You weren’t even sure if he was running, or where he was, if he was even behind you at all. It was like a twisted game of cat and mouse. He’d let you run, tire yourself, maybe even prod at you, before he went in for the final kill. He was a man who liked to play with his food before enjoying it throughly.

The forest was completely dark now—a sea of shadows and utterly unforgiving. A sharp cry echoes through the brush as you pitch forward. You fall with the grace of a startled deer—eyes wide and head pounding. The sound of him chuckling makes your head snap in every direction, unable to pinpoint where it’s coming from. You roll onto your back, crawling backwards on your scraped palms until your shoulders meet solid trunk.

The forest bed was damp beneath you, twigs stabbing into your legs as you gasp for breath. Your eyes flit uselessly in the dark, not making out a single shape against the murky backdrop.

Then, a warm breath of air against your ear. “That was better, but I’m still rather unimpressed.”

Before you could scream, you press a hand to your mouth. With a strangled breath, you try to get away again, but a large hand wraps around your bicep, pulling you to the ground with a weightless ease.

“Wait, Roger-“

The man above you gives you an unapologetic look, his voice dripping with faux sympathy. “You’ve had your chance.” He leaned in close, so close you could see the cold satisfaction swimming in his eyes. “But this little puppy can’t run from me, can she?”

His hand releases your arm in favor of gripping your chin, pinching your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, drawing your lips into a puffy pout. “Sweet little things like you shouldn’t be out after dark.”

“Roger, please-“ you whimper. For what exactly, you’re not even sure, but between the fear still clinging to your heart and the heat pooling between your legs, you know it’s something only he could give you.

He traps your body under his, large thighs bracketing yours as he effortlessly pins you to the ground. The way he cages you in, the sheer volume of strength he has over you—it has a keening whine bubbling from your throat.

He kisses you then, hungry and messy. It’s a full fledged devouring with teeth against lips. His touch is unforgiving as he pries your mouth open, sucking your tongue into his mouth with domineering possession.

When he pulls away, you can’t see straight. He wipes away a thin string of saliva connecting your mouths together, his lips twisting into a sadistic grin. “Not putting up a fight anymore? Or maybe you know you’re just another prey to be hunted, to be devoured.”

His words have you throbbing. It’s obscene, the way you’re so quickly reduced to this. And Roger thrives on that.

He wraps a hand around your throat, fingers holding it in a possessive grip, just enough to keep you still and pliant. His warm lips brush the shell of your ear as your legs weakly kick against the ground. “I bet you even like this. Me chasing you, treating you roughly, it’s excites you, doesn’t it?”

Oh, gods, you hate how right he is, how certain he is of this undeniable truth.

“I bet my little pup is dripping right now.” As if to prove his point, his other hand drags your disheveled skirt up past your thighs. You let out a breathy whimper when you feel the cool evening air against your soaked panties. Your hands weakly wrap around the wrist at your throat, all while Roger slides his fingertips over the ruined garment with a chilling smile.

He doesn’t even bother removing your panties, just pushes them to the side as one of his thick fingers caress your bare folds. The simple touch has you trying to buck your hips into his hand, but the weight of his thighs over yours keeps you pinned and helpless.

Finally, after he has his fun toying with your wet heat, he pushes his finger into you. The stretch of just one of his fingers is enough to have your eyes fluttering shut with a breathy moan.

“Look at you… I’ve barely even touched you, and you’re already moaning like a bitch in heat.” He ducks down to press a sloppy kiss to your lips. His mouth trails to your jaw, then in favor of replacing his palm at your throat with his lips. He leaves bites against your skin that are far too intense to be called love bites, but you’re sure they’ll bloom into a bouquet of bruises you’ll have trouble hiding for the next week. As his tongue laves over a fresh bite, he all but growls against the tender skin, “So fuckin’ perfect.”

The praise, paired with the sudden addition of a second finger into your cunt, has you moaning his name. You don’t feel the biting chill of the forest floor against your back anymore as his fingers work in and out of you, knuckle deep and occasionally curling into that spot that has your legs trembling under him.

By the time he adds the third finger, you’re certain you’re done for. If the straining bulge in his trousers is anything to go by, you know he’s used up his reservoir of restraint and there’s no hope of you walking tomorrow.

And Roger’s not much better. Despite his collected appearance, you can tell he’s just as desperate as you, mouthing against your neck and chest (thanks to the tear, courtesy of Roger, in your blouse that offered him ample access to your blushing breasts).

You whine when you feel all three of his fingers slip out of you, just before you could come. It was a tortuous game Roger loved to play—one where he’d ease you open, get you nice and ready to come on nothing but his cock. But he’d make up for all of this teasing usually by taking you slow and deep or making you come apart on him until you either were about to pass out (sometimes both).

He shifts so that he can push your thighs to your chest, granting him an uninterrupted view of your dripping pussy. He pulls his cock from his pants, the tip an angry red and leaking, the prominent vein running up the underside of his shaft pulsing as he pumps himself once before teasing his tip through your soaked folds.

You reach out to grab onto his forearms, feeling the corded muscles flex under your touch as he coats his length in your slick.

“F-fuck..” you breathe out, earning a low chuckle from Roger as he shoots you a sweetly condescending smirk.

“Haven’t even put it in, and you’re already moanin’ for me.”

And gods, when he finally does start to ease the fat head of his cock into you? You think you might actually pass out.

“Still so fuckin’ tight f’me…” his gravelly tone would have you clenching around what little he managed to push into you. He leans his face down, forehead resting atop yours before he kisses you again. “Gotta relax f’me lil lady… fuck…”

Part of you wants to cry and say you can’t take him, can’t possibly fit his inhuman length into you. But the other part (the winning part) of your brain is already mush and wants nothing more than for him to fuck and ruin you.

He pushes another inch into you, and then another, and another, until his pelvis ghosts just over your throbbing clit. You feel full, impossibly full. So much so it ached deep inside you.

You barely register the wet kisses Roger mouths against your lips and cheek, strained voice whispering soft praises, “so good f’me.. feel so good, so perfect.”

And then he starts to move, slowly at first, until you’re crying out with each deep punch into your core—so deep that you swear he’s found your soul. Your arms cling to his back and shoulders, grappling for something to hold onto as he rails you into the ground, his face lowering to suck a bruise onto your breast.

Tears wet your cheeks as you babble out incoherent pleas, nails digging into his shirt as he groans against you. Your thighs are already trembling, and you know you won’t last much longer. He angles your hips up slightly, meeting his brutal pace in a way that has stars swimming in your vision as you clamp possessively around his cock. You come with a drawn out moan, throat worn raw.

Two more deep thrusts into your spasming heat, and Roger follows suit, earning another pitched whine from you as hot come fills you, already dripping from where he’s still pulsing inside your pussy.

You feel light and breathless, fatigue coursing dangerously close as he slips out of you. The last thing you remember is the gentle press of his lips against yours.

Before you opened your eyes, you knew you weren’t in your own bed. It smelled too strongly of cedar to be your own private quarters. But the thought didn’t unsettle you. Instead, it brought a quiet comfort followed by the weight of strong arms draping over your waist. Large hands pull you back against an equally strong and broad chest.

You let out a sleepy hum, snuggling further into the pillow. Then, a frown finds your lips. You are so fucking sore. You just barely shift and it feels as thought your legs will fall off, not to mention the quiet ache of your back.

Rolling over with a huff, you come face to face with the cause of said pain. Looking not at all apologetic, the doctor snoozes without a care in the world. You poke his bare chest. The man merely mumbles in response, peaking one eye open.

“G’morning.” On any other morning, you’d bask in the sleepy, husky voice, but today the casual cadence irks you.

You poke his chest again, “Roger.” Your voice is still a bit raw, and it only makes you want to jostle him more. “Roger, I can’t move my legs and I need to pee.”

Roger nuzzles closer to you, lips brushing against your throat. “Mm, I figured that would happen.”

“Oh? So you knew what you were doing.”

You don’t miss the puff of breath warm your skin as he laughs softly. “It had been awhile since I played with my favorite pup, I thought I should make a fun game for her.”

You scoff, but there’s no real malice beneath it as you roll your eyes, “you’re unbelievable.”

He pulls you closer, savoring your warmth. “I don’t hear you complaining though.”

You run a hand through his hair, pressing a chaste kiss to his temple, “Yes, but my legs are so stiff I’m convinced they’ll fall off, and I still have to pee.”

“Mhm… don’t worry, I’ll take care of ya.” Another kiss lands along the column of your throat. “Anything for my favorite girl, right?”

#ikevil #ikemen villains #ikemen series #ikevil smut #ikemen villains smut #ikemen villains roger #ikevil roger #roger barel #roger barel smut #ikevil fanfiction #ikemen villains fanfic #ikevil x reader #roger barel x reader

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dumbass-mha-simp · 19 days ago

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Silly lil comfort edit :3

Richard reminds me of a rabbit

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dumbass-mha-simp · 24 days ago

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𝑾𝑯𝑬𝑵 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑳𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻𝑺 𝑯𝑼𝑹𝑻

A/N: a little comfort fic hehehe, a little chronic migraine comfort with Erik, as fun fact about me. I do struggle with chronic migraines, to the point I'm crying my eyes out from the pain, and it leaves me mentally and physically exhausted as well. I also struggle with dizzy spells as well. Which gets worse when I'm having a chronic migraine attack. And Erik is my comfort character as well. So why not?

Contains: mentions of chronic migraine, comfort from Erik hehehe, he's such a sweetheart I'll let him comfort me with my chronic migraines hehe

Taglist: @dixontardis , @mandyluvsharmon , @emmadellaposta-blog , @kai-komaeda , @dogey290 , @batzy-watzy , @roseglass-writings , @seraphims-sins , @queenbibbleslikesstuff , @misstankthrust

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The pain hit like a freight train.

It started as a dull pressure behind your eyes, but now it pulsed like a drumbeat in your skull, sharp and sickening, radiating down your neck and into your jaw. Every little sound was too loud. Every flicker of light was unbearable. And worst of all, the tears you didn’t want to cry were already slipping down your cheeks as you curled up on the edge of the bed, trembling under the weight of it.

You didn’t even hear him come in — not until the mattress dipped behind you and you felt the warm, familiar weight of Erik settling in.

"Shit… baby," he whispered immediately, voice breaking when he saw you like that. "You’re crying."

You tried to shake your head, to tell him it was fine — but the motion sent a wave of nausea crashing through you, and a sob slipped out before you could stop it.

Erik was already moving.

He gently pulled you back into him, tucking your body against his chest like a protective shell. His arms were warm and solid around you, grounding you through the storm inside your head. You felt his lips brush against your temple — soft and careful, barely there.

“Light’s too much?” he murmured.

You nodded.

In seconds, he reached back and shut off the last lamp, plunging the room into soothing darkness. The only light came from the hallway now, and even that was fading as he got up briefly to close the door. Then he was back — pulling you close, stroking your back, keeping his breathing slow and steady so you could match it.

"I'm here," he whispered. “Just let it out. I’ve got you.”

The pain was overwhelming — but somehow, the feel of Erik’s chest rising and falling behind you, the slow, constant movement of his fingertips against your spine, and the calm weight of his voice started to help. Not make the pain disappear, but… soften it. Make it bearable. Because you weren’t alone in it anymore.

“You always try to hide when it gets bad,” he murmured against your hair. “But I know. I always know.”

Your fingers clutched at the front of his hoodie, desperate for some kind of tether.

“It hurts so bad, Erik,” you whispered, voice thick with tears. “It won’t stop.”

He kissed the crown of your head. “I know, angel. I wish I could take it from you. God, I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat if I could.”

He moved slowly — guiding you to lie on his chest, one arm curled beneath your back and the other rubbing slow, rhythmic circles over your scalp, avoiding the pressure points that hurt. His voice stayed low, gravelly with quiet affection.

“You’re so damn strong, you know that? Most people wouldn’t be able to handle half of what you go through. And you still smile. Still laugh. Still let yourself love.”

You buried your face against his chest, letting the soft thump of his heartbeat distract you from the throbbing behind your eyes.

“Just breathe with me, okay?” he whispered. “In and out. Nice and slow. I’m not going anywhere.”

Minutes passed. Maybe more. Eventually the pain settled into something slightly duller — still sharp, but less world-ending — and you realized the tears had stopped. Your head still ached, but you could finally lie still without shaking.

And Erik was still there, holding you like he’d never let go.

When you finally drifted off, it was to the feel of him brushing his thumb over your cheek, and the sound of his voice — barely a whisper — promising over and over:

“You don’t have to go through it alone. Not ever again.”

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dumbass-mha-simp · 27 days ago

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ON MY KNEES BEGGING

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dumbass-mha-simp · 1 month ago

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Posting my Erik and Family headcanons again but without anything nsfw (some headcanons were changed slightly to make it sfw), there’s some mentions of making out and hickeys thats it. I also added some headcanons. I’m going to make more headcanon posts later because it’s fun. I am still working on my Tryst headcanons and Clay headcanons I haven’t forgotten ♡

ERIK CAMPBELL

-Erik has a tattoo (at least) on his ass, and one on his V line

-Tongue piercing Erik is canon you can't change my mind (also originally he did have one, that was back when his name wasn't even Erik)

-Erik got detention in high school several times for stuff like skipping school or smoking

-Erik's graduating class' senior prank is infamous at the school

-Erik is very touchy, in public and private, he is not afraid of PDA even in front of his family (he will make out with you in the living room on a Wednesday afternoon no he does not care anyone could walk in)

-Erik will make you a mixtape, probably more than one actually. He will give you 'songs that remind me of you' mixtapes and just song recs and sometimes it's all metal. He uses both Spotify to make playlists and actual CDs and cassettes

-Huge horror buff, and he loves watching horror movies with you, if you get scared easily and curl up against him and cuddle him and end up in his lap during a movie he's so smug about it.

-If you don't get scared he still enjoys watching horror movies with you and making commentary with you as the movie plays

-He loves old and/or obscure horror movies, good or bad. He's 100% that guy who's like 'you've got to check this movie out' and it's some 80s B horror movie on VHS no one's ever heard of that's so bad it's good.

-When he was a kid he used to watch movies he was not allowed to watch (or shouldn't have been allowed to watch) sometimes by seeing it at a friends house, sometimes he'd wait till his parents were asleep and watch it, sometimes his parents just didn't check when they rented a movie. When he was old enough to be home alone for a bit but still young enough to not be allowed to watch R Rated movies he'd just sneak into his parents room when they were gone and take a DVD or VHS tape and watch it and put it back when he was done

-They caught him doing this once when they came home earlier than expected and he was in the middle of a slasher

-They also caught him watching Evil Dead 2 when he was 9 and his ass got grounded

-He has so many horror movies on VHS and DVD his favorites are in his room but he doesn't have space for all of them so the rest are with the rest of the movies the family owns, he gets mad if someone (usually Bobby or Julia) takes them.

-Also has a ton of CDs

-Loves seeing you in his clothes, whether it's a shirt, hoodie, underwear, and he’ll tell you.

-Got into a fight as a teenager with some creep who was being gross to Julia

-If you're up for it he will tattoo and pierce you, free of charge.

-Loves taking you to concerts

-Throws popcorn at assholes who talk loudly in the theater, sometimes other snacks, he once hit someone in the back of the head with a peanut M&M

-Will hold your hand if you're anxious and let you squeeze as hard as you need

-If you are in the hospital for some reason he will crawl into the hospital bed and hold you, at least the best he can with IV’s and shit hooked up to you

-Will bring you a teddy bear or something too with a get well soon card he bought that he drew like a smiley face in

-Will walk the halls with you (inspired by the fact that last year I had to walk around while recovering from a Cholecystectomy to get the air out of my abdomen and someone always walked with me also it fucking hurt)

-Sweetheart when you’re sick, I mean he’s still Erik but he’s a sweetheart in his own way

-Loves when you play with his hair

-Loves giving you hickeys

-In middle school he drew a dick on someone’s cast

-Wears guyliner sometimes and knows how to apply eyeliner all fancy (Julia taught him but he perfected the technique)

-Bisexual

-Does not have good impulse control

-He will do basically any dare, he once drank some Everclear straight from the bottle on a dare (horrible idea he immediately started coughing)

-Absolute menace :3

-When he was a kid he’d go to the arcade at the mall, this is actually where his love of Mortal Kombat started, he was the kid who would play games he was not supposed to be playing. He’d go to the arcade and play Mortal Kombat at like 7.

-If you play videogames he loves playing with you, and if you’ve never played Mortal Kombat he’s teaching you how to play you don’t have a say in the matter sorry lmao

-Loves when you stop by the shop, if he doesn’t have a client he’ll just vibe with you, or he’ll work on tattoo designs while you’re there. (He’ll even let you sit in his lap as long as that won’t interfere with drawing, this goes for when he’s home too)

-Loves hearing you laugh loves making you laugh

CAMPBELL-REYES FAM

-Bobby collected Pokémon cards as a kid

-Idk why but I feel like Julia played like Tennis in school or some shit

-Brenda and Howard are the type to tell you to call them mom and dad

-Bobby was a clumsy kid probably

-I think Bobby did play sports in high school and Erik, who doesn't like sports, went to every game, Julia went too whenever she could make it

-Julia did pottery in high school

-When all the kids were younger there were

-Reyes-Campbell family vacations every summer and trips throughout the year

-Family barbecue's at the Campbell's are a common occurrence

-Why can I see Julia doing horseback riding at some point

-Bobby and Julia both still have stuffed animals and will buy more if they see one they really like, Erik doesn't anymore but he still has a teddy bear and some other stuffie from when he was a kid both in his closet but he will not admit to it

-Bobby has so many hoodies, he also likes fun socks and mismatched socks

-When they were kids Erik convinced Bobby that Bobby was actually a nickname/short form of Bobert and Bobert was his real name, Bobby believed this for a solid month until he either mentioned it to his parents or they overheard something about it and corrected him

-Erik used to convince Bobby into believing a lot of dumb shit when they were kids, he did the same to Julia before Bobby was born but he had a higher success rate with Bobby because he was more gullible

-One time when Bobby was little Erik was supposed to babysit him but he already had plans so he just took Bobby with him to hang out with his friends, which sounds like a bad idea, but they all immediately accepted Bobby and referred to him as 'little man'

-Stefani played woodwind in high school, can still play (thank you final destination fandom)

-You know in movies and tv where a family has a big pancake breakfast with bacon and eggs and sometimes fruit to go with the pancakes and the table is packed, yeah the Campbells used to do that when the kids were all still kids.

-Brenda makes the best lemon bars you've ever had, whenever there was a school or class thing going on the kids friends always used to beg them to get Brenda to bring lemon bars

-You'd think it would be Bobby or Erik probably but it's actually Julia who would sneak a peek at her Christmas presents early, she never got caught

-The weirdest place Paco has escaped to was a high shelf in the bathroom, to this day no one knows how he got up there

-Other places he's been found include but are not limited to are the pantry, closets, the couch, middle of the hallway, open drawers, the sink

-Julia took a roadtrip with her friends senior year after they graduated across the country and down the coast

-Julia likes hiking

-Howard and Brenda give lots of hugs, like you're straight up part of the family now

-Julia used to have a Furby

-Julia and Bobby used to play DDR at the arcade

-Bobby would play racing games at the arcade, especially the ones where you’d sit on one of those bikes (he still plays them)

-Erik would always rack up so many tickets

-as a kid Bobby would use those slide things that kids use when bowling, specifically the dinosaur ones, he probably used it a bit longer than he needed because he liked the dinosaur

-Bobby has liked turtles since he was a kid, as a toddler he went as a turtle for Halloween

-Erik was ghostface one year and still has the costume, it still fits.

-Julia was a final girl one year

-Bobby went as the same thing three Halloweens in a row

-When Stef was a baby her parents dressed her up in one of those Halloween costumes for babies, she was a pumpkin.

-Charlie reads comic books, he has a nice collection

-Stef and Charlie had a treehouse as kids, it’s still up in the tree

-Erik used to come up below someone at the pool when they were in a pool tube and pull them under, he specifically did this to Julia and Stef, if they were on a raft he’d just pull them off the side or tip them. Probably did this up to when he was like 12-14

-Erik swimming up under and dragging people (in siblings and cousins) under by the ankles just in general

-Erik and Bobby always ran at the pool

-Erik doing a bellyflop wrong and trying not to cry because he’s tough

-Bobby doing cannonballs

-Julia sneaking up behind Erik with a water gun and shooting him in the back of the head as revenge

-Playing chicken

-Water gun fights during summer and at the pool

-Water balloon fights in the summer

-Homemade lemonade

-Favorite Popsicle Flavors, Bobby’s is Cherry (he also really likes Rocket Pops, Julia’s is Strawberry, Erik’s was Blue Raspberry as a kid and he still likes it, as an adult he likes Cherry better and him and Bobby fight over the last Cherry Popsicle, Brenda’s is Lemon, Howard’s is Orange, Stefani’s is Watermelon, Charlie’s is Green Apple, Marty’s is Kiwi, and Darlene’s is Grape

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dumbass-mha-simp · 1 month ago

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erik campbell being OBSESSED with his gf !! Like, he can't stop talking about her and Bobby and Julia seeing him so in love for the first time <<<3

𝑰'𝑴 𝑪𝑹𝑨𝒁𝒀 𝑨𝑩𝑶𝑼𝑻 𝒀𝑶𝑼

A/N: ask and you shall receive lovely anon! This was such a cute request! Him being obsessed is so Erik coded, especially if he's really in love🥹🩷

Contains: Language, tattoos/piercings mention, mild teasing, established relationship, fluff, Erik in love, Erik being obsessed with his girlfriend

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It started with a tattoo.

That’s what Erik tells people when they ask. He says it all casually, like “Yeah, she came in for a piece, and I never stopped thinking about her.”

But the truth is, he was obsessed from the second you walked in. And now that you’re his? He makes sure everyone knows it.

“I swear to God, if he brings her up one more time…” Julia mutters, half-laughing, as she leans against the counter in the shop.

Bobby lifts a brow, sipping his drink. “What’s she done this time? Saved a cat? Painted the Sistine Chapel?”

“No,” Julia says dryly. “She made Erik lunch. And apparently it was, quote, ‘better than sex.’”

“Damn,” Bobby chokes. “He really said that?”

“Loud enough for a client to hear.”

Erik saunters in from the back at that moment, hoodie sleeves pushed up, showing off the ink trailing down his arms. His hair’s a mess, lip ring glinting as he chews gum. He's got that look on his face—the one that says he’s about to talk about you again.

“Did I tell you guys she made those cinnamon rolls from scratch? Like, she kneaded the dough and everything.”

Julia groans. “We know, Erik.”

“No, but—like, she was wearing my shirt? That old black one with the rips in it? She looked so fucking good, I nearly—”

“Bro.” Bobby throws a wadded-up napkin at him. “You’ve got it bad.”

Erik just smirks, not even pretending to deny it. “Damn right I do.”

Later that night, you’re curled up with him on the couch, legs across his lap, his hand lazily resting on your thigh. The TV’s on, but he’s not watching. He’s watching you.

“Y’know Bobby told me I was disgusting today,” he says, lips brushing your temple.

You look up at him, smiling. “What for?”

“For talking about how cute you looked in my shirt while you baked. Apparently I won’t shut up about you.”

You giggle, turning to face him fully. “You don’t.”

He hums, clearly unbothered. “Can you blame me?”

His fingers trace gentle circles on your skin. “They don’t get it. I’ve never felt this way. Ever. Not like this.”

You feel your heart flutter, soft and full in your chest.

He leans in, kissing you like it’s instinct—like his body needs it.

“I’m crazy about you,” he murmurs against your lips. “The whole damn world could go to shit and I’d still be thinking about how you looked this morning when you woke up next to me.”

“Obsessed much?” you tease, nuzzling his nose.

“Hopelessly.” He grins, flashing that dimple. “And you love it.”

You do.

God, you do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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dumbass-mha-simp · 1 month ago

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Erik Campbell Dating Headcanons

Erik Campbell Masterlist 𐴱 Main Masterlist 𐴱 Taglist 𐴱 Reading List 𐴱 Pinned Post 𐴱 Moodboard side-Blog A/N: Has anyone asked for any of these? no. Am I gonna stop? Probably not. Y'all are eating this man up, so I will officially open requests for him since I've run through my usual basic HCs

Summary: Some General Dating Headcanons for Erik Campbell

This man is giving the couple in highschool who made out in the hallway constantly and didn’t give a fuck who was watching, vibes. One of them was always emo, too. Is that a universal experience, or no? Anyway, he’d be all over PDA. He’ll kiss you no matter where you are or who’s around.

Erik is the biggest softie, especially when you’re alone.

He’s always gotta be touching you in some way. Holding hands, arm draped over your shoulder, hugging you from behind. I think he’d be very grabby, but he would just melt if you got all clingy and were hanging off of him, being all cute.

100% keeps a naked picture of you in his wallet. When the two of you spend more than 24 hours apart, he probably takes it out whenever he’s bored, looks down at it with a little smirk, and then goes on about his day, thinking about your bare skin, distracted.

I think he’s a sappy drunk and gets really emotional, going on about how much he loves you and how he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. Overall, he’d act like a man in yearning who’s longing for your affection as if you weren’t crawling into bed together, attached at the hip and wrapped around one another.

He likes lying down on the couch with his head in your lap when the two of you are watching TV together, especially when you’re alone. He’d just melt feeling your fingers threading through his hair and your nails raking gently over his scalp, absentmindedly, while you focused on whatever it is you’re watching.

Most of the pet names he uses are really not the average ‘baby’, or ‘honey’. He’ll use them sometimes, usually when he’s trying to sweeten you up for something. But most of the time, he’s gonna call you things like ‘asshole’, or ‘fucker’, but affectionately.

I can see Erik being a biter, but in a playful, affectionate way. I think it's more of a cuteness aggression thing, really. Every once in a while, he’ll just squeeze you real tight or sink his teeth into you, seemingly out of nowhere.

He’s still sarcastic as fuck though so if you yelp and and shove him off of you, laughing while asking ‘what the hell was that?’. You’re just gonna get an ‘I love you, asshole. What? I can’t love you?’

Very much the ‘shut up’, ‘make me’ type. The two of you are probably constantly rolling around, wrestling, making out, or arguing, regardless of where you are or who’s around.

I think if he brought you to meet his family and they immediately loved you, it would be the ultimate reassurance for him. He would absolutely love watching you interact with his siblings, throwing yourself into the fold, and getting to know them.

He’s the type to get your name tatted on him after a couple of years and just not tell you. It’s not unusual by any means to see him coming home with a fresh tattoo all wrapped up, so you probably wouldn’t think twice when he comes home with his chest all bandaged up.

He usually shows you whatever it is once he unwraps it after a couple days, you usually help him get it cleaned up, but this time, when you’re peeling the wrap off of it, he’s staring down at you with great interest and a hint of nerves, watching as you freeze, reading the neat lettering inked over his heart with wide eyes.

You’d ask him what the hell he’d gone and done that for. Just as aware as you knew he was that it was generally a big no-no, but he’d just tell you that he’s gonna marry you one day, so it’ll be fine, and if by some tragedy, that isn’t the case, he knows he’ll love you till the day he dies, even if he can’t have you.

This would be a really good time for him to propose, but even if he doesn’t, y’all are about to have the most passionate, loving sex you’ve ever had in your lives.

Dividers made by @saradika-graphics Gif By @sunnyie-eve

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dumbass-mha-simp · 1 month ago

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Monopoly Meltdown

Masterlist 𐴱 Taglist 𐴱 Reading List 𐴱 Navigation A/N: One of y'all requested basically the opposite of Hangover hero, and this is what I came up with. Side note, I found the tortoise ouija planchette pic on Pinterest and immediately thought of the Campbell siblings doing something like that 😭

Summary: You Drop Erik off at family game night with Bobby and Julia and return to find him shit faced and being a menace.

Warning: Very brief mention of puke

The drunk texts started a little after nine.

Jumbled, mispelled words that only vaguely made sense.

Something about Bobby cheating at Monopoly.

You’d dropped Erik off for the biweekly Campbell sibling game night a few hours before with a case of beer and the promise to pick him up when they were finished.

Clearly, he’d slammed a good few back in a short amount of time.

You chuckled every time your phone chimed, amused by the play-by-play you were getting on every game.

Eventually, you got a clearly worded, obviously typed by Julia or Bobby, ‘come get me please’, and drove back over to pick him up.

“Oh, thank god.” Julia sighed tiredly when you knocked on the door. “He’s driving me nuts!”

“What’s he doing?” You raised a brow, brushing past her to find your drunken partner.

“See for yourself,” she gestured towards the living room and disappeared up the stairs.

After venturing further into the house, you found Erik and Bobby wrestling on the ground. The coffee table was on its side, and there was monopoly money everywhere.

“Just admit you cheated!” Erik grunted, struggling to hold his own in his drunken state.

“I didn’t!” Bobby insisted, putting him in a headlock while he flailed. “Stop trying to fight me!”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing.

Bobby had bulked up a bit playing football last season, and Erik seemed to have forgotten that when he’d picked a fight.

“What are you two doing?” You made your presence known before one of them got hurt.

Your name fell from both of their lips. From Bobby, a sigh of relief, while Erik shouted it excitedly.

“Bobby cheated at Monopoly.” He peeled himself off the ground and shot his younger brother a glare.

“I did not!” Bobby rolled out of the way and huffed.

“Ok,” You grabbed Erik by the hand before he decided to keep the argument going and tugged him towards the door. “C’mon, baby. We’re going home.”

“Okay,” he sighed dramatically.

“Bye, love you.” The eldest Campbell sibling nodded to his brother despite having been in a fight just a minute before.

“Love you too.” Bobby mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest like a child.

It never failed to warm your heart how close they were.

“Don’t worry, Sweets” He staggered along behind you, “I’ve got plenty of love left for you.”

You chuckled, pulling him out into the night air.

“Thank god.” You feigned relief.

To your surprise, you managed to get Eric into the car without issue, but in the time it had taken you to get into the driver’s seat, he was already squinting at his phone, trying to pick a playlist.

“I can’t read this shit.” He grumbled, trying desperately to make out the words on the glowing screen to no avail.

“Give it here.” You held your hand out for it. “Let me do it. Which playlist do you want?

“The ‘I just drank seven beers and now my super hot girlfriend is driving me home’ one.” He slurred. “You’re so pretty.”

“Seriously,” you rolled your eyes and started scrolling through his playlists, “Which one-”

You paused when your thumb was hovering above that exact title.

“You fucker!” You exclaimed, laughing loudly, “You planned this, didn’t you?”

“Like a few hours ago,” He couldn’t help but laugh too. “On beer number four.”

“Thought I was gonna tap out at five, but I had to live up to the playlist!”

“Oh my god,” you chuckled, turning the key in the engine. “You do realize that you could’ve just re-named the playlist, right?”

It became abundantly clear based on the look on his face that he hadn’t considered that option.

You blinked at one another for a few seconds, just long enough for the beginning of Motley Crue’s ‘Looks That Kill’ to start blaring through the speakers

Neither of you could contain your laughter.

It took a full minute before you were ready to pull out of the Campbell house driveway, then another fifteen to pull into your apartment complex.

Erik trudged up the stairs, looking increasingly queasy with each step.

You could tell as you were nearing your floor that he was going to puke, and you jogged ahead to get the door unlocked in hopes that the extra thirty seconds would increase the odds of it happening anywhere but the floor in the entryway.

“Bathroom.” You nudged him in the right direction and locked the door behind you once you’d both made it inside. “Or sink if you can’t make it!”

You followed him and poked your head into the bathroom down the hall, relieved to find that he’d made it. You grabbed a glass of water and a washcloth before setting them both on the bathroom counter, joining him on the cool tile floor.

“You okay?” You rubbed his back gently when he was finished.

“Yeah.” He rested his forehead on his arm. “Feels better actually.”

“I bet.” You chuckled sympathetically, pulling yourself to your feet so you could run the washcloth under cold water. “My poor baby.”

You gently rested the cool washcloth on the back of his neck, and Erik sighed in relief.

“Think you’re done?” You asked softly, pressing the glass of water into his free hand. “Take little sips.”

“Thanks, Sweets.” He muttered tiredly, raising his head just enough to sip the water.

“Let's just get you up and into bed.” You kissed the back of his shoulder, nudging him gently to his feet. “Want me to brush your teeth for you?”

“I can brush my own teeth.” Erik poked your cheek once he was up. “I’m not nearly as drunk as you were last time, missy.”

“You’re never gonna let me forget that, are you?” you pouted softly, reaching for your own tooth brush

“Not a chance.” He scoffed.

As you were getting ready for bed, Erik watched you get changed, draped over the mattress, in just his boxers, feeling much better, but exhausted.

“That thong,” Erik trailed off, eyes sweeping up to your raised brow, “... Really brings out your eyes.”

You laughed.

The kind of laugh where you throw your head back and let it wash over you like an early morning tide. It was his favourite sound in the world.

“Just come to bed like that!” Erik waved you over, or, to be more accurate, he tried to.

His arms felt like lead weights.

You made a soft huffing sound, but the corners of your lips were quirked upwards as you crawled into bed with him anyway, dressed in only your thong, and slipped under the covers.

Erik clumsily joined you and pulled you into his chest.

“Thanks for coming to pick me up,” he muttered into the top of your head, “And taking care of me.”

“Course.” You smiled, pressing your lips to his bare chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Sweets.”

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Taglist: @thewinterhunter @dogey290 @zroberts13

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dumbass-mha-simp · 2 months ago

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stranger than fiction

Summary: Bobby keeps talking nonstop about a friend he made at the gym. Contrary to his family's belief, he's more than certain that Erik is the one who would be more than interested to get to know her.

Genre: fluff, some suggestive dialogue

Pairing: Erik Campbell x f!reader (no description for reader aside from her having tattoos and snakebites)

Words: 5.3k

Note: oh yeah, i got carried away again. also, I don't think I made it clear, but reader is a few years older than Bobby (around Julia's age!). This was based on an anon's request. Sorry it took a while, but I hope it was worth the wait >< I'm considering a part 2, so feel free to drop ideas!

The first time Bobby laid his eyes on you, he instantly thought of how well you'd get along with Erik. It was during the early hours of the day, when the gym wasn't filled yet and the area still smelled fresh. He just finished his treadmill warm-up, sipping Gatorade from his Spongebob water bottle—a hand-me-down from Erik.

He took a swig, then saw you as he brought his head back down. You were looking at him a bit shyly, standing near enough to have a conversation. What caught his attention were the pointed ends of two rings near the sides of your bottom lip. They looked like small fangs when you had your mouth closed.

The next thing he took note of were your jogging pants, which had hand-painted spiderwebs on the black cotton. Surely, he would've remembered something as distinct as that. But he's never seen you before up until this moment. Either that or Julia was right, he really could be too oblivious sometimes.

"Hi!" he waved to you.

"Hi, sorry," you chuckled, offering him a small smile. "I didn't want to look like a creep or bother you, but uh, would you happen to know how to use that machine?"

Bobby looked over to the corner you were pointing at. He chuckled. "Oh, that. You know, I've been going to this gym for a year now, and I have yet to see anyone use it."

"Well, at least I know I'm not the only inept one," you laughed. Even down to the humor, you and Erik were so alike.

"I'm Bobby," he stuck his hand out, which you shook when you introduced yourself. He gestured towards his mouth, "I love your pants and your—this."

"Awh, thank you! I got my snake bites just four months ago. They're my favorites from everything I've gotten done."

At the mention of other piercings, his eyes flitted towards your ears, which were decked in rows of metal. On your right side, you even had an arrow going from the upper part of the shell onto another. Curiously, he chanced a look at your arms, which were covered in ink.

"Sorry, got too excited there. I didn't want to disrupt your workout," you shifted awkwardly, taking Bobby's silence as indifference. Bobby snapped out of his train of thought, holding his hand up and waving it around dismissively.

"No, you aren't a disturbance at all! I was just thinking about how much you remind me of my brother."

You inwardly sighed in relief. He was just as sweet as you thought he would be before you approached him. Out of the three other people in the gym, you went up to him because you had spotted his yellow little sports flask. "Oh thank God, I didn't want to be in your way or anything."

"Actually—" he paused, quickly mulling it over twice before he asked you. You had just met, but there was so much about you that was automatically so endearing to him. It might have been his bubbliness at 6 am, or the fact that he was a big guy with Spongebob merchandise. "Do you need a spotter or something? I don't really have much to do for my routine today. I'm mainly working on legs."

"That's perfect! I'm working on legs today, too. Maybe a bit of cardio later, I haven't really made up my mind. Are you sure it won't be a bother?"

"Yeah, it'll be fun!"

And with that, you had stuck to each other like glue. He went from being a stranger to a familiar face you always looked for once you stepped into the building. The time you spent at the gym nearly doubled because of how many times you've lost track of your rest times in between sets. Bobby was fun to talk to, displaying child-like excitement for almost anything and everything.

That was over four months ago.

Presently, you and Bobby were doing your cool-downs in front of the mirror. Real breakfast usually came post-workout, spent at the diner a five-minute walk away. It was tradition for you to go and eat together, so much so that the kind waitress already memorized your orders.

"We have this family thing coming up on Friday. It's a barbecue around lunch, and it would be cool if you'd go." Bobby groaned when he cracked his neck just right.

"You sure I wouldn't be intruding?" You took a sip out of your water bottle, looking on in disapproval as he carelessly smeared sweat all over himself with a hand towel. You whistled at him, gesturing for him to turn around. He followed you, letting you wipe his nape with the towel. "Don't smear your sweat. You need to dab at it."

"Yeah, of course not. They basically already know you by now. Just need to put a face on the name." He turned around to give you two thumbs up—extra reassurance. He added just under his breath, "And I really want you to meet Erik."

You chuckled, slinging your gym bag over your shoulder. Throughout all your workout sessions, he’d been casually name-dropping his mysterious older brother who was “just so much like you” and who you’d “totally get along with.” Truth be told, you’ve been waiting to meet him, too. Like bread crumbs, Bobby laid out a trail for you to piece together who exactly Erik Campbell was. Tatted, pierced up, an artist, an awful fighter, a video game addict, a one-time-winner of a radio station raffle, and an all-time-loser of every arm wrestling game ever—those were just some descriptions he left out for you.

"You know, you've been hyping your brother up for a while now." You brought him up once again as you were walking to the diner. “He better be as cool as you say he is.”

Bobby snorted. “I didn’t say he was cool. I’m just saying that you look like gender-bent versions of each other.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” You grinned at him, waiting for your words to sink in. Bobby’s eyes widened, crinkling in child-like glee.

“So I’ll see you this Friday?”

“As long as you make those killer cocktails.”

────୨ৎ────

When Bobby first told them that he had made a new friend at the gym, Julia and Erik immediately thought that there was a high chance that you would end up together. Bobby always arrived with a certain glow to him after gym sessions with you. He talked about you with the giddiness of a first-grader discovering chocolate milk. Being the youngest meant being the one subjected to the most teasing when it came to anything romantic, but they couldn’t have been anymore wrong about the nature of your relationship.

It was the night before the barbecue when he finally put all speculations to rest.

Erik had asked him about you for the nth time, wondering aloud when Bobby would "bring his mystery gym rat girl" and introduce you to them. Bobby simply calmly chewed his pasta, then set his fork down.

"She's more of your type, actually," he trailed off, punctuating the thought with another forkful of pesto.

Julia breathed a laugh, looking back and forth between her brothers. Erik stilled, glass of water halfway tilted to his lips. He set it down, leaning closer to Bobby. "And that means?"

"Maybe it means you like women who could bend you in half," Julia cut in, earning a pointed "Young lady" from their mother.

Bobby attempted to cover his laugh with a cough, resulting in him choking on his food. Erik rolled his eyes as Bobby thumped his chest, patiently waiting until the coughing fit was over. Julia nestled her chin on her palm, invested in the new information as well.

"Yeah, what do you mean by Erik's type?"

"You'll see," Bobby smirked at them both, resisting the urge to spill any further details. “She’s coming by tomorrow.”

“That’s great! Your mother and I have been wanting to meet your friend as well,” Howard said. He considered for a few moments, before adding a quieter, “She is just your friend, no?”

“Oh my god, yes, Dad, she’s just my friend,” Bobby groaned, letting out an exasperated laugh. Howard held his hands up in surrender, muttering a quick apology.

Dinner wrapped up not soon after. As they were clearing the table, Bobby slinked over to Julia, who was concentrating on not dropping their plates.

“I bet you ten bucks Erik’s gonna ask her out by evening.”

“Who—your girlfriend?”

“Julia,” he hissed, before looking behind them. Erik was obliviously chatting with his dad in the living room, making no indication that he heard their conversation. “She’s like an Erik clone, except she can run faster. Like, like someone looked into our house, saw Erik, and made him in a different font style. It’s insane!”

Julia faced Bobby, folding her arms as she thought. She took in how Bobby’s eyebrows were slightly crumpled, lips in a hard line—the usual tells whenever he was defending something he firmly stood by. Even now, at the last of his teenage years, she still saw him as a kid. “Okay, geez, I believe you. I say ten bucks by afternoon.”

They nodded at each other conspirationally. Over in the living room, Erik wasn’t even the slightest bit aware of what was to come, still not buying into Bobby’s claim. However, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t pique his interest.

“She’s more of your type.”

“She better be as cool as he made her out to be,” Erik thought to himself.

────୨ৎ────

“The grill’s finally on!” Erik gave the grill one last playful smack, a tinny “clang” coming from the metal of his spatula. “Dad, I told you we needed a new one.”

“I’ll get a new one if your sister finally beats me at Jenga without cheating,” Howard chuckled, earning a groan from Julia. Joining them were Marty and Stephanie—the latter miraculously back from college over her break. Erik had a small smile as he saw Julia and Stephanie talking, relieved that they seemed to be rekindling their friendship.

The springs of the trampoline brought his attention over to Bobby and Charlie, who were playfighting recklessly as they bounced. Watching them from the chair swing were Brenda and Darlene. He wasn’t exactly sure what to feel about his estranged aunt reconnecting with the family. Charlie has told him how much he missed her on multiple occasions, but Stephanie seemed the full opposite. She has yet to utter more than a single word to or about her mother.

With the squeak of the back-gate opening, everyone’s heads turned to the new arrival. Bobby beamed, his smile impossibly wide as he hopped off the trampoline. He shouted your name, waving animatedly at you, as if it would be possible to miss him. Julia gawked at you. Bobby really wasn't kidding about Erik's type.

The sight of you sucked the air out of Erik’s lungs. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped, mouth suddenly dry. He took in your body art first, ink swimming on soft skin, flowing on your toned arms. Even though you were a distance away from him, he could see the glint of your snakebites in the sunlight. Where he had only two lobe piercings on either side, your jewelry was far more maximalist, rows of studs, rings, and tiny chains decking your ear. He let his eyes blatantly wander, barely registering the hiss of meat sizzling on the grill.

As Brenda and Howard came over to greet you, Charlie’s voice rang through the yard. “I think something’s burning.”

Erik sniffed, head whipping back to the burgers. Smoke rose up the grill, alarmingly getting thicker. He clumsily poked at the burnt burgers, trying to salvage them by getting them off the grill. “Shit, shit!”

You watched the man you presumed to be Erik try to salvage the food. You chuckled, partly because of what was happening, but also because of how right Bobby had been. His septum piercing was a thicker gauge than usual, meaning this guy may or may not be a hardcore masochist. Tiny tattoos littered his arms, looking like their placements had been done on the spur of the moment. Impulsive too, maybe.

“I’m so sorry, he’s usually not like this,” Bobby whispered to you, feeling a tinge of secondhand embarrassment.

“No worries, I like it when they’re a bit of a dork.” You whispered back before sharing pleasantries with his mom and dad. Bobby introduced you to them, and they were more than happy to finally meet their youngest’s gym buddy. Bobby kindy took the box you had brought, lifting the lid slightly to check what was inside. You perked up, “Oh yeah, I brought some apple pie! No nuts, just apple and cinnamon.”

Howard delightedly thanked you, sharing news of the dessert with the rest of the family. He ushered you to the Jenga stack, where Julia and Stephanie immediately included you in their conversation. When you turned to talk to Stephanie, Julia sent over a knowing look to Bobby, arching her eyebrow as if saying, “Huh, you really weren’t joking.”

Bobby raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement. A silent “Told you so.” He took his place behind the wooden bar, making good on his promise to you. That bartending summer workshop proved to be useful as he expertly mixed drinks as if it were the only thing he knew how to do. In his concentration, he jolted when he turned around and saw you next to him.

“Jesus, you almost made me drop the glass.”

“That’s Erik, huh?” You nodded towards the older guy. Erik had regained control of the grill, getting into his own little zone of flipping burgers and toasting buns—though you’ve caught him staring at you a couple of times.

Bobby nodded enthusiastically, offering you a freshly-made Hice Pale Ale-lemonade mix. “Told you you had the same vibes. Now go drink this and talk to him.”

“Talk about what exactly?” You accepted his offer, gingerly taking a sip. Damn, Bobby wasn’t lying about how good it was. “Just because we look the same doesn’t mean we’d get along.”

“I know the both of you enough to know that you’d get along,” Bobby groaned. “Now please, get over there and blow his mind or something.”

“I know another thing I could blow,” you smirked, muttering under your breath. Bobby theatrically gagged, shivering as you walked away.

“I’m starting to regret this!” He lightheartedly called after you. When you stood nearby Erik, it was Julia’s turn to sidle up to Bobby. Wordlessly, he showed her his watch, tapping the glass as it read “1:30.” Julia rolled her eyes.

“I have plenty of time.” The siblings watched as you and Erik started talking. They didn’t miss the way Erik’s lips lazily quirked up, how he gestured more as he talked—textbook signs that he was nervous.

“Ten bucks,” he reminded her as they contentedly sipped their drinks. They both smiled as Erik laughed, genuine boyishness showing through instead of the usual snark.

When Erik saw you approaching, he had to mentally prepare himself. You looked like an alternative angel in your sleeveless, black turtleneck. The soft fabric hugged your waist, cinched in by a sleek black belt. It was chic—simple, yet unbelievably hot. Don’t get hard, don’t get hard, don’t get hard, he repeated to himself.

“Hey,” he greeted you cooly with a lopsided smile. “So you’re the gym buddy?”

“And you’re the older brother.”

“Bobby’s been talking about me too, huh?” He rubbed his neck shyly. You saw the way his eyes lingered over your arms, the same way yours were taking in his. You pretended not to notice how you ogled each other until Erik was the first one to break. “I like your tattoos.”

“I like yours, especially your centipede. It looks fucking gnarly.”

“If you wanna talk about gnarly, your snake bites,” he whistled lowly. “Pretty good piercer you got there.”

“God, I got these forever ago. Delayed my braces because I had them done on a random Tuesday. My mom freaked out when she saw.” You both chuckled at the memory. It hit a little too close to home for Erik, who also had shit timing and spontaneous body mods.

In an instant, you clicked. Unsurprisingly, you had a lot in common. From your music taste to your preferred jewelry brand, you were incredibly in sync. Bobby wasn’t exaggerating how alike you would be. Sure, there were differing opinions in movies—mainly because Erik hated found footage films—but even then, it was fun banter for the two of you.

“Holy shit, an unironic Grave Encounters 2 fan in the flesh,” he put his hand over his chest, gasping dramatically. You laughed, hitting his arm lightly. He tried not to blush too hard. You literally just met, and on top of that, you were Bobby’s friend—in his mind, that made you off limits.

“You’re an actual snob. Grave Encounters 2 was so much fun and Alex—God! Call him my teenage dream,” you swooned, earning an eye roll from him. It felt like talking to a long-time friend, like he was lost familiarity to you.

Eventually, Erik finished cooking all the food. Not once did you leave his side, the two of you losing track of time as you chattered on. He was still fishing for buns in the empty plastic by the time he realized he was all out. He clicked his tongs twice before setting them down.

The entire time, you couldn’t stop yourself from staring at his arms. His tattoo placements were so chaotic, yet they were all perfectly him. Your eyes trailed the inked insect wound around his lower bicep. “You into bugs?”

“You talking about Spencer?”

“Spencer?”

He pointed to his centipede tattoo. “He has a name, you know.”

You laughed, making a show of leaning closer to his arm, peering at the tattoo. It was as if you were talking to a child. “Hello, Spencer! Would you happen to know if your daddy’s into bugs?”

Erik’s face flushed. His breath already hitched when you moved closer to him. But then, you called him that. Daddy? He wasn’t even into that thing—reminded him too much of his own dad and it made him shrivel up. However, it came from you. And you said it so nonchalantly, not even thinking about the impact of your words. His dick twitched in his jeans, and it took everything in himself to try to prevent it from fully erecting.

Think of unsexy things. Furbies. Moldy bread. His boss.

He cleared his throat, commanding steadiness in his voice. “I like them more than most. I used to catch beetles and ladybugs in our yard when I was a kid. It carried over to high school, I guess, and I had this phase where I was enamored by centipedes and millipedes. I don’t know, I just thought that they were so cool and terrifying. Beautiful in an ugly way, almost.”

You nodded in understanding. He was surprised he wasn’t met with the usual comments of shock or disgust at the insects. It drew him further into you, a magnetic-like attraction. Sure, he liked to talk a lot, especially with clients during a session—regardless of whether or not they’re responsive. But this felt more genuine, like he was letting you peek into a crack in his armor

“My mom tried cleaning my room one day—she failed by the way—and saw my old insect drawings. I saw the sketch for this one, refined it a little, then boom. Spencer was born.”

“You drew this yourself?” Your eyes widened in amazement. You brought your hand up, letting it hand halfway to his arm. “May I?”

“Knock yourself out. He won’t bite.” He didn’t think twice before boldly adding on, “His daddy can, though.”

You giggled, feeling your cheeks heat up. Gently, your finger traced over his tattoo, swiping over the skin here and there to take in all the details. The shading was solid, hugged by neat line art. Genuinely, it was such a good tattoo. Its beauty was only amplified by the one wearing it.

All the while, Erik was having an internal crisis. He should not have said that. He didn’t know what he wanted yet. He did know that he wanted to be close to you, but in what way exactly? If, down the road, you became a couple and you broke up, Bobby might end up losing you, too. Plus, he didn’t even know if Bobby would be okay with it. Shit, is Bobby okay with what’s happening now?

His eyes scanned the yard, searching for Bobby. He spotted him next to Julia, standing by the side of the trampoline as Charlie bounced around on it. The pair had their eyes on you, sipping from iced drinks, topped off with the small cocktail umbrellas Bobby loved so much. Julia seemed to anxiously glance at her watch. When he achieved eye contact with them, they swiftly brought their free hands up, giving him a thumbs-up.

Well, the signal couldn’t be clearer then.

“Thank you for letting me pet him,” you straightened up, looking innocently at him. A cruel smirk played on your lips. “Didn’t expect him to be quite big and long.”

“Packs quite a punch, just gotta give him a chance.”

“Hmm, a chance at what?”

“I—”

“Erik!” Bobby came barreling towards him, giving a thump on his back that almost sent his older brother flying. Behind him, Julia was yelling, “You cheater! No interventions allowed!”

Okay? Whatever that meant, you thought as you stepped aside, letting the brothers have their moment. Bobby smiled apologetically at you, while Erik looked more than ready to bite his head off. “Sorry, I remembered something I had to ask Erik over here.”

Bobby threw a not-so-discreet look at his watch. 3:48.

He wrapped an arm around Erik’s shoulder, steering him into the house. Erik was basically dragged along, looking back to mouth “sorry” to you. Before you could even comprehend what just happened, Julia was beside you, linking your arm around hers. “I’m so sorry about that. Bobby can be a real dingus sometimes. How have you been getting on with Erik?”

Inside the house, Erik shook Bobby’s grip off him. He faced his brother, gaze sharp and deadly. “I want you to know that you ruined a very good thing.”

“Holy shit, you totally like her,” Bobby whisper-shouted. He balled his fists up in excitement. “I fucking told you she’s your type.”

“Yeah, yeah, well, how was I supposed to know?” Erik waved him off defensively.

Bobby took in his flushed cheeks, his tense shoulders, and his uneven breathing. He grinned, crossing his arms. “You’re fucking head over heels, aren’t you? Shit, I didn’t expect you to fall for her that much.”

“I’m not! It’s just a crush at most, so what?” Erik mirrored Bobby’s stance, taking a step back. He shrank away from the younger boy, as if he maintained the distance, he could avoid discussing his feelings. “How do you know I don’t see her just as a friend?”

“Are you planning to ask her out?” Bobby ignored his last question. Erik sputtered, looking anywhere but at his eyes.

“What, I—what?!”

“Can you do it after 6 pm?”

“Hey!” Julia slid the glass door open with a loud swish. Erik glanced behind her, seeing how you were now under Stephanie and Charlie’s care, the three of you making use of the trampoline. You turned as you jumped, meeting his eyes through the doorway. Almost immediately, he smiled at you, bringing a hand up in “hello.”

“Holy shit, you’re totally into her, “ Julia quipped, surprised by Erik’s love-struck expression.

“That’s what I said!” Bobby exclaimed, bringing out his arms.

“You!” Julia turned to Bobby, jabbing a finger at his chest. “You are a cheating weasel. You ruined a perfectly good thing!”

“That’s what I said,” Erik murmured in the background, eyes still trained on you. You looked so pretty when you laughed, hair forming a halo around you as you reached the peak of your jump, falling down in waterfalls when you came closer to the ground.

“Erik, if you’re gonna ask her out, do it now. No better time than the present!” Julia patted his shoulders, taking his right arm to pull him out.

“Woah, no!” Bobby grasped his left arm, stopping Julia in her tracks. “Do it later at night. It’s gonna be more romantic that way.”

The two younger siblings bickered, pulling Erik back and forth like a rag doll. Erik blinked twice, snapping out of his trance as he took in his surroundings. He wriggled free of their hold, bringing his hands up. “What the fuck are you two on? I don’t know what you’re planning, but can you do me a kindness and please fuck all the way off? I’m not gonna ask her out.”

After a moment of stunned silence, Bobby and Julia chorused, “What the fuck do you mean you aren’t asking her out?”

Erik shrugged, rubbing his nape. “I don’t know. Now that you’re both on my ass about it, I feel like it’s too soon. I just want to take it slow for now.”

“What the hell?” Julia’s brows furrowed. Bobby’s mouth opened and closed like a dying fish. “Take it slow? As if you took all your Tinder hook-ups slow?”

“Those were hook-ups. This is different.” He stood in front of a small hanging mirror, tousling his hair a little to get it back to its “messy-chic” style. “Now if you fuckers don’t mind, I’m gonna go out there and play Jenga with my girl.”

“Technically, she’s not your girl yet. If anything, she’s my girl. You know, since she’s my best friend,” Bobby muttered, shutting up when Erik glared at him. Quickly, though, he realized something. Bobby smiled to himself, Julia still not catching on to what he had planned.

“Yeah, she’s my girl,” Bobby repeated slightly louder, a hint of shakiness to his voice. “In fact, since you’re taking too long, I might just go and ask her out myself.”

Erik steeled himself, surprised that Bobby’s comments affected him deeper than he expected. There was a certain possessiveness he felt for you, only hours after meeting you. He was more of a free will person rather than a fate one, but it felt like destiny brought you together—like everything fell into place when he laid his eyes on you. And as much as he loved Bobby, he knew that his brother couldn’t handle all that. You were made for Erik—his living, breathing, dream girl. Even though he sensed that Bobby was joking, he couldn’t help but feel even just a tiny bit pissed.

“Fuck you,” he pointed to Bobby. “And fuck you too,” he turned to Julia.

“What did I do?!” Julia yelled, exasperated. “I was supporting you!”

Before she could further defend herself, Erik was out the door, making his way back to you. His spirit was filled with renewed determination and the slightest tinge of jealousy. Bobby watched proudly, slipping out the door, Julia following behind him. “Do you think he’s gonna do it?”

Bobby snorted, “I hope so. Let’s pray he doesn’t chicken out.”

“That was a good pep talk,” Julia hi-fived him as they went back to observing you.

You hopped off the trampoline as Erik went over to you. You winked at him, cheekily smiling. “Hey there, daddy.”

His eyes widened momentarily before remembering the reason for the pet name. He rolled his eyes, pointing to Spencer. “My kid wanted to say hi again.”

You chuckled at your inside joke. Your phone buzzed, tearing your attention away from him. Erik noticed the way your lips twitched into a grimace, the slight crease appearing between your eyebrows.

“You okay?”

“Sorry, I might have to go. Just got an errand from my mom,” you waved your phone at him. Subconsciously, he pouted, something he looked adorable doing. “It was nice finally meeting you, though.”

“Thanks, people usually tip me after.” His eyes crinkled as you laughed. “I enjoyed meeting you too.”

Erik tagged along with you as you said your goodbyes to his family. Any outsider looking in could’ve thought that you’ve been together for years by now. Brenda pulled you in for a surprising, yet not unwelcome, hug. That, alongside an open invitation for you to come around more, made your heart soar. Bobby walked towards you as you neared the back gate.

“Thanks for having me over, big guy,” you said as he enveloped you in a bear hug.

“I’ll see you on Monday? Big day for arms!” He waved at you before turning to Erik.

“I’ll walk her to her car,” Erik tightly smiled at him. He opened the door for you, letting you walk a few steps ahead of him. When he was sure you were out of earshot, he leaned closer to Bobby, patting his shoulder. “Thanks for bringing her over.”

“Better buy me good takeout later,” Bobby muttered, watching his brother run after you like a dog off-leash.

The walk to your car was comfortably silent. Erik moved to the driver’s side to open the door for you, embarrassed when he realized that you hadn’t unlocked it yet. He ended up tugging uselessly on the door, shuffling instead to lean on your car coolly. “Fun fact about cars, they’re very secure.”

“Yeah, would be pretty bad if anyone could just come up to your car and unlock it, huh?” you chuckled together. Neither of you wanted you to leave yet, and you stood there awkwardly, just looking at each other. Finally, Erik broke the silence.

“So… was I everything Bobby raved about? Wouldn’t want to be false advertising.”

You hummed, pretending to think hard. “Wardrobe was on point. Humor was more sarcastic than I thought it would be—not that it’s a bad thing. Overall, better than I imagined.”

Erik’s heart beat hard against his chest. You pressed a button on your keys, letting him actually open the door for you now. When you got settled in, you rolled the window down, peering at him through your lashes. He leaned in, resting an arm on the top of your car. “I might have another look, though. Just to make sure the description was… consistent.”

“Ah, quality control,” Erik nodded, eyes narrowing as he considered your words. “I respect your dedication. When can I schedule an appointment for a second viewing?”

“You into carnivals?” You asked as you stuck your hand out, wordlessly asking for his phone. Erik dug into his back pocket, giving it to you. “There’s one rolling into town by the end of the month. Really good test of other factors… like stamina, courage, and your fun bone.”

After adding your number to his contacts, you brought the phone back to him. He smirked at you. “I have a fun bone right here.”

You sputtered, nervously glancing towards his belt buckle. He caught your gaze, tutting at you. “Oh no, princess, I meant right here.” He tapped a small skull tattoo hidden on the side of his bicep.

You rolled your eyes, tilting your head to smile at him. You looked at his lips. His scent was so prominent, now that it was just the two of you in close proximity. Smoke and menthol. Your eyes flickered to his arm. “It was nice meeting you, Spencer.”

Your gaze slowly went back to him, bright baby blues that reminded you of sparkling water. “It was nice meeting you too, daddy.”

Entranced, Erik stepped aside, watching mutely as you pulled into the road and disappeared into a dot on the horizon. He knew that this wouldn’t be the last time he’d be seeing you. He also had an inkling that somewhere, in their backyard, one of his siblings had won a stupid bet. He shook his head, a smile never leaving his face as he made his way back.

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dumbass-mha-simp · 2 months ago

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Erik & Bobby: *sees their father's face mangled by a lawnmower*

Bobby: "Someone call an ambulance!"

Erik "sOmEoNe CaLL an aMbuLanCe!!!"

(apologies for poor quality, the full bts video is here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AM1F_t6u9N8)

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dumbass-mha-simp · 2 months ago

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"Textual Relationship." Erik Campbell X FEM! Reader.

Okay, so. I have been posting about my newfound love for Erik fucking Campbell and basically this week I wrote a nearly all of 10K fic about being his unlikely sexting FWB. I had so much fun with this, I seriously love Erik and I think that this will not be the last thing I write of him. I hope everyone enjoys this! I do love, love, love this kind of senario. Who knows this might even get a follow up if people really dig it.

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 9.6K. Erik Campbell X FEM!Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Sending Nudes. Sexting. Anonymous Sex. Dirty Talk. Mentions Of Cuckholding. Banter. Playful Relationship. Friends With Benefits. Teasing. Use Of Sex Toys. Cum Eating. Phone Sex. Mutual Masturbation. Blow Job. Hand Job. Riding. Vaginal Sex. Cunnilingus. Lots Of Compliments. Praise. You Are Both Super Into Each Other. Premature Ejacuation. Semi-Public.

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Isn’t it crazy how a tiny change, one single moment, a slight pitch to the right or left, can cause such a massive and undeniable effect? That is what you have been pondering lately, you had been a little fixated on how one mis-entered number when putting in a new cell phone contact brought about such good, how that screw up introduced you to him.

It was an average evening, you were going to have a shower and then sort out dinner, you’d selected the clothing you were going to change into, while in just your robe you sauntered into the bathroom. The door closed, you turned on the fan and took out your phone to put a music playlist on, it was at that exact moment you received a text, you click on it and see it is from an unknown number, a simple, “Hey, you busy tonight?”

Your brows furrow and you type out a response, “Who is this?”

The shower is turned on, and you let it start to heat up, eyes on the bubbles showing whoever on the other end was in the midst of typing a reply, it comes in a moment later reading, “Hilarious, been two whole days, and you already forgot me?”

You did not give out your number to anyone in the past few days, you were about to type out a response when another text came in before you could, “Maybe you just need a refresher.”

Next popped up a picture and your breath caught, eyes going wide, the picture in question was a selfie taken using a mirror, the setting was a dark room, the lighting so low it was hard to make anything out in the background. However, who cares about the room when the focus was a close up of his open pants and belt sitting low on his hips. Creamy skin with a ton of tattoos on display, one hand is in his pocket which is pulling his pants down lower to the point you start to see the beginnings of coarse hair over the edge of his underwear. Okay so, one, hot, two, whoever he was trying to reach out to was very fucking lucky, and three, you definitely do not know this guy, but you think you want to.

You don’t want to lie and lead him on that you are some other person, so you quickly decide a picture for a picture is a fair trade, you open your robe, showing a heathy amount of cleavage and stomach, you take a snapshot of your newly exposed flesh. You look at your work and are satisfied with it, you look hot, no face shown, very minimal risk, so why not take a chance? Then you are sending him a text saying, “Sorry, I don’t think I am who you were meaning to send this to, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be who you are looking for.”

You send the picture along with it and then drop the robe, you turn on your playlist and get into the shower. Once under the spray of water, what you just did really starts to hit, you just sent this admittedly attractive stranger a somewhat scandalous picture, and it was hot, even if it doesn’t go further, you are glad you did it. You begin to feel pretty turned on, you might have to hop in bed to take care of this before worrying about dinner.

After you are clean, you get out and start drying off, once wrapped in a towel you pick up your phone and check to seeing the texts you got in response, “Oh fuck.” And then, “I know I should apologize.” and lastly, “But it’s hard to do it sincerely with a response like that.”

A laugh breaks out, and feeling bold, you text him back, “Nothing to apologize for.” After that you type out “Got me curious what you were planning to get up to with whoever that first pic was meant for, tell me that, and we’ll call it square.”

You use your hand to wipe the steamed up mirror enough to show your body but still obscure your face, you snap another pic, it shows you wrapped tightly in the towel, showing off you from shoulder to hips and still very wet, and then you send it off.

The picture comes first less than a minute later, similar to the first but this time it is obvious that he is very fucking hard, the outline of his erection clear, then the text comes, “I think I can do that.”

A grin stretches over your face, and you abandon the bathroom and the clothing you’d picked out earlier and made your way back to your bedroom.

Turns out that he thought he was messaging someone he flirted heavily with a few days ago and hooked up with in a bar bathroom, he got her number afterwards, and you guess was just one digit off and ended up getting you instead, crazy how that can happen. He was messaging that person in hopes of meeting up for a repeat session, you express sympathy but also offer some companionship, “I think I can still salvage your night, if you let me.”

You send another picture of you, this time in bed, it shows a hint of the underside of your tits, as well as the sheets that are pooled around your hips and one hand dipping under the fabric between your legs.

He takes you up on that with a simple, “Oh my God, yes.”

Now you take it upon yourself to get the ball rolling, asking, “If you met up with that other person, what did you want to do?”

“Ooh you want to know, huh?” He texts, and you respond with one hand as your other begins to touch yourself slowly, “Badly.”

“You cuck.” Just like that, a clearer picture of him begins to take shape. You wonder what his voice sounds like, but those words paired together gives you a better sense of him, and most importantly, the tone. You swear you can almost hear the teasing timber he would utter that with; the levity combined with an edge of taunting and slightly degrading? It is honestly exactly the kind of thing to turn you on. He follows it up with, “But I can tell you.”

He indulges you, talks about how he had intentions of getting her into a more private space than their last hook-up, tells you about how he has been thinking so much about giving her the chance to not have to muffle her moans when he is eating her out this time. The image of this hot faceless alternative guy on his knees in a filthy bar bathroom, fingers tangled in his hair as he eats pussy really does it for you. He tells you a lot more explicit details of how he’d fuck her, and you pretend to be in her place, you imagine how it would feel to be on the receiving end of.

You don’t let him do all the heavy lifting, you make your own intentions known and tell him in no uncertain terms what you would like to do to him, building off the framework of what he laid out. This sexting is some of the best you’ve ever had and with a complete stranger no less, though you suppose maybe that is part of it, the taboo nature, the freedom you feel because there is no baggage whatsoever.

Many pictures were sent back and forth that first night, plenty were noteworthy, but you have to admit when you get the first picture of him, hard and fully exposed, it literally made your breath stutter and how many guys can claim they have an honestly breathtaking dick? The proportions are good, but the piercing is what really grabs your attention, you are immediately struck with the craving to run your tongue over it and taste the tang of metal mix with the salt of his sweat. You tell him what you want in explicit detail, trying your best to paint the picture with words of you taking him to the base.

Both of you get bolder still, names are not exchanged, a lot more skin is shown, but neither of you reveal your faces. It ends with you both cumming pretty hard. You show this off with sending a picture of your soaked fingers, wet strings of slick between your spread digits.

He shows off the splatters of cum onto his stomach, and you admire how the pools of pearly white play against the black line work of the tattoo on his stomach, as well as how it drips off that piercing adorning his still mostly hard dick. God, you wish you could make this your screensaver.

You play it cool, a very casual text is sent by you, “This was fun, we should do it again sometime.”

In turn, you receive an easy reply of, “Totally, you’ve got my number, hit me up.”

Soon you are getting out of bed, throwing on clothes and heading out towards the kitchen to make dinner.

The following day you find him popping into your mind a few times, you feel your mood overall lifted, you hadn’t realized how much you had been missing sexually interacting with another person. You don’t message him yet though, you decide you will when the mood feels right.

You quote, “hit him up”, about a week after the first time, you are getting dressed for work in the morning and while looking over your underwear options an idea strikes, and remembering how well lack of thought worked in your favour last time, you don’t linger, you do.

It doesn’t take that much time, and you leave on schedule, you have more of a spring in your step and wonder when he will take the bite, not if, you are confident it is when.

Erik finds himself staying up late a lot of the time, whether working or gaming, going out, the usual things that can keep anyone his age from slipping into bed at a decent hour, so waking up in the early afternoon is not uncommon. He rolls over and picks up his phone to find you sent him some messages, with one hand rubbing at his eye the other swipes them open, and he is rather pleasantly surprised to see what you sent.

The first text reads, “Morning!”

Then comes the pictures.

You had chosen a matching bra and panty set in a rich dark jewel tone that looks criminally good against your skin and slipped into it. Three pictures were taken using your floor length mirror, your phone purposefully blocking your face, the lighting and angle also helping to hide your identity; the first is of you, head on, tits tilted forward. The next is you on your knees, taken over your shoulder and leaning to show off how amazing your ass looks in the silky fabric. The last is you back on your feet, mostly dressed but, pants are low and shirt pulled up by your other hand not holding your phone to show you are wearing the set under your clothes today.

The last message reads, “You gonna be around later? Was hoping for a repeat of last week if you are up for it.”

Your phone vibrates in your pocket once, then twice, honestly several times, and when you pull it out you see he has reacted to every picture you sent with exclamation points and black hearts, you laugh lightly thinking of his overall aesthetic, “Very fitting.”

His texts are as follows, “Holy fucking shit, what a way to wake up.” and then, “Yes, I am definitely going to be around later.” and a picture of his own, he seemingly is still in bed and not wearing much, you can tell how hard he is with just the thin bedsheet covering him. The last text is, “You look so fucking hot btw, oh my God.”

You smile, an appropriate response to getting some unprompted sexy pictures on top of him, sending evidence of just how much he enjoyed your efforts. You type out your response, “You are one to talk, I want to see what is under that sheet, badly. I’m going to be done work in a few hours, that cool?”

He treats you further when you get another picture in response of that sheet pulled out of the way, hard dick resting over his hip along with a, “Very cool.”

You laugh, texting, “It’s a date.” You know the rest of the shift is going to drag, too consumed with how excited you are for what is going to happen later.

When you get home later, you don’t even bother showering, you strip on your way to the bedroom until you are just down to the underwear set you took those pictures in this morning. You know you want to kick this off with another picture, and you’d been thinking hard about this on the way home and knew just want to do.

Erik is at work, this day of the week is dedicated to walk-ins, no real appointments, so he is just waiting around at the moment, it’s near the dinner hour, he is expecting some people later but for right now he is kind of bored, until your first text comes in that is. His phone lights up and, he clicks on the notification to see what you sent. It is you in your full length mirror again, face out of frame, bra off and on the ground by your feet and an arm crossed over your tits, wearing nothing else but your panties and fuck, he is glad that the shop is empty at the moment.

The next text reads, “You around?”

He responds automatically, thumbs tapping out, “I am.”

You text him another picture, this one has your chest totally exposed and your free hand sliding your panties tantalizingly down your thighs, with one single word, “Good.”

This time you take the lead, you texted him next, “I’ve been thinking about you ever since you texted back this afternoon, I have been dying to get off with you again.”

You are in your bed now, texting again before he can respond, “Last week was a ton of fun, but I want to ramp it up, if you are into it.”

The next picture Erik gets from you takes him from being half hard to completely erect, it’s you holding a rather sizeable dildo; realistic, prominent veins, and he has the first partial look at your face, just your chin and mouth, tongue out and teasing the tip of your toy.

He makes the picture full screen, taking in the sight of that perfect looking wet mouth, your soft pink tongue, and wishes he was there in place of that toy. The very thought of the slickness of your spit, your warm breath, God, just the heat of your mouth would feel like heaven, he is sure. He responded, with a very enthusiastic, “I am very into it.”

You are torturing him, you have been talking about how much you want to taste him, how badly you want to be filled.

You had taken a few more pictures of you blowing the toy, still focused on the lower part of your face and the anonymous aspect is very much doing it for both of you, he loves that he knows what you look like with drool down your chin but has never seen your eyes, and you love that fact as well as showing off for him.

He is aching in his jeans and dying for relief, he hasn’t sent any pictures himself yet tonight, still sitting in the shop and fully dressed, but he has been typing out responses agreeing with every single thing you’ve been saying and talking about how he is sure it would feel incredible to slide as deep as he can into your mouth.

You ramp it up further, taking him by surprise, sending your very first video, he clicks on it quick as he can and as it starts to run he sees that you have secured the suction cup base of your dildo to a hardcover book. He watches with rapt attention as you swing one leg over, line it up and then start to slide it inside of you. The sound is obscene, he can fucking hear how wet you are, but more than that he can hear you moan out at the satisfaction of being filled. Once you settle down and have it fully inside of you, he can make out your breathy, “Oh my fucking God, yes-”

You start to bounce up and down, he makes it exactly three rolls of your hips before he decides fuck it, he is taking his break now. He grabs the sign that declares, “Be back in twenty.” and hurriedly tapes it to the glass front door and locks it. He makes a beeline for the bathroom and locks himself inside, he had still been watching, phone in hand and eyes glued to the screen, losing his mind at how hot the visual of your soaked cunt taking well moulded silicone. Erik gets his belt and pants open, intent on sending you something back for that.

You pause your riding when you hear your phone ding, you scoop your phone up and see he responded, you are greeted with the words, “You’re killing me.” With a picture of one of his hands gripping the base of his very hard dick. His pants are slung low again, he is leaning against a sink and the lighting is low with a red tint, your mouth is watering. Before you respond to that, he sends his own video, the text reads, “A video for a video seems fair.”

You click on the video, and it is a blissful minute long video of him stroking his dick, you can hear his heavier breathing, the slight jingle of his belt buckle from the rough movements of his hand and of course, the sweetness of the sound of skin on skin.

It is on.

Your next one is you riding the dildo, dirty talking in between moans about how fucking hot he is and how good this feels, but that you are positive that he would feel better.

The next video he sends you into overdrive, it opens with him spitting into his hand and then wrapping it back around his shaft, he strokes himself as he admits, “God, you know I’m at work right now? Fuck, couldn’t focus at all-” He huffs out a breath and confesses further, “-made me take my break early, you’ve got me jerking off in the bathroom right now-”

Your hips pick up the pace, fucking yourself rougher, fingers swirling over your clit as you watch the video, listen to his filthy words, “-who can sketch when all I can think about is you riding me?”

Just listening to him is getting you close, you hold out and soon as you are done watching his video you set your phone back up for the big finish. Your hips roll, you moan out as your hand works, “So-sorry for taking you away from your work, bu-but M’ close-”

A broken gasp as you manage to get out a little more praise, “-seriously you are so fucking hot, I can’t last, fuck! Ahhn I’m gonna-”

You capture it beautifully, managing to get all the clear detail in your low bedroom lighting, the shudder of your thighs and how your pace stutters, moaning out weakly as you tip over the edge and your orgasm sweeps through you. Somehow you manage to ride through your high, shaky, uneven movements, stars bursting behind your eyelids as you think of your swollen walls wrapped around him as you cum.

Once the pleasure finds it’s natural end, your hand falls away, and you sit there with the dildo still inside for a moment. You are panting, still coming down from your orgasm, after another few seconds, you lift off the toy, letting the camera on your phone capture all the excess wetness that leaks out and runs down the toy.

You stop recording, and you send it off, you flop down and wait eagerly for his response, which you get in just a few minutes, right when your breathing comes back to normal, only for the video he sent to steal it again. His video is much shorter, about thirty seconds long, but the best one so far, incoherently moaning out a curse as he cums all over his own fingers.

Honestly, even though you just came the sounds he makes when he is cumming are getting you going again, you are so going to jerk off to that video on loop again when you regain a little strength.

With another flash of inspiration, you remove your toy from the book cover and bring it up, you start to clean it up with your mouth; you took a picture of the soaked toy resting on your cheek, your tongue lolling out and clearly dripping with your own creamy slick, combining it with a text, “Oh my fucking God, how are you this hot? Wish I was there to help you clean up.”

His own response comes back with, “I’m hot? Have you seen you? Also serve return, I bet you taste amazing.”

The texting continues on for a while, you are into the fact he would love to help you clean up and wants you there to do the same, you thank him for helping you out and for all he shared, and he thanked you for making his night at work a lot more interesting. He gets a walk-in and has to get to work, and you go for a shower and to figure out your dinner, and the conversation stops for the night.

This situation keeps going as is for a few weeks, at least once a week, either initiated by you or him, a quick check in with a, “You busy?” accompanied by a risky picture leading to a heavy sexting session, pictures and videos exchanged where you both get off spectacularly. You both have a good sense of when works in each other’s schedules and when the other person is normally busy, the times you catch each other at a bad moment you find yourselves prioritizing finding space to make up for it as soon as possible. You think that you are a tad addicted to these sexting sessions, and you have a sneaking suspicion that he is too.

The times you text after a session become longer and at times you are texting even when you aren’t being nasty and sexual with each other, you learn small details, like some music he likes, that he is a tattoo artist, his brother has a pet turtle that is always getting lost. You still haven’t seen each other’s faces, you don’t know each other’s names, you still like those small things and get off on the anonymous nature.

While in mid-session while in bed, a vibrator in your hand and pressed between your thighs and your other hand holding your phone, in the middle of typing out a response to your sexting buddy when your phone starts ringing. You are so shocked that you nearly drop your phone, the feeling increases when you see that he is the one who is calling you. It has been a while since you had ramped it up, it has been weeks of pictures, voice notes, and videos, but you’ve never actually talked on the phone, the idea of it is exciting enough that all nerves are forgotten and you answer.

“Hello?” Jesus, you didn’t mean to say it so breathy, but you can’t help it, with how turned on you are, the toy still running and how good it feels.

“Hey-” Oh, thank God, he sounds pretty out of breath too, a small moment before he says, “-I just really wanted to hear you.”

Fuck, you feel a surge of arousal and you want to whimper in response. He continues, “I love the videos and shit we do, but there’s this uhm, disconnect right?”

You know exactly what he means, you film the video, send it, he watches it, records the response and then sends his, the process is hot and fun, same story for voice notes, but it does take a bit of time and definitely creates a disconnect.

“I was thinkin’ this could maybe bridge the gap.” You get it totally, have some more immediacy, can respond in real time and also not have to fuss with your phone while jacking off, instead you can just talk. “Not all the time but-”

You breathe out and finish his thought before he can, “Sometimes. Yeah, I’m with you.”

“Good.” He responds and then there is this moment where it sinks in, you are both on the phone together, just listening to each other breathe and you know what the other person is doing. He is fucking his well lubed fist while you are grinding your clit against candy coloured vibrating silicone. You’ve never spoken like this, and you think he is having the same realization, he must have just called you on impulse, you are thankful he took that first step; to show appreciation for how thankful you are, you figure you should break the ice properly.

You turn the toy up and the moan that spills out in response is automatic, “Oh God-” and you can hear his own breath catch, you squirm your hips and hit a particularly good spot that makes you whine slightly; that gets a good moan from him, and it really starts rolling.

“Jesus Christ, the sounds that you are making.” He groans, and you let out this sound that strikes somewhere between a half laugh and half a moan, and he finds it gorgeous, “You can thank the vibrator I am using, ahh-” A harsh inhale in you say, “-you sound so good too.”

“Yeah?” There it is, that teasing tone, that one that you knew he was capable of that first time you were texting, that same one that does you in and ruins you so perfectly. You confess this next part broken only by a few moans, “Yeahhh, I swear, ohh, guys who are too quiet are such a fucking turn-off, bu-but ah! The stuff you send? Perfect to get off to.”

“Couldn’t agree more, what we’ve been gettin’ up, ugh, to has kinda ruined me for regular porn for the time being.” His own admission fuels this all a lot further, because you’ve done the same thing, traditional porn that isn’t stuff he has sent you has very little appeal currently. You normally think about him being physically with you, but that is a Hell of a lot easier with him in your ear like this, you could imagine him in bed beside you as you both play with yourselves, or better yet, have him play with you.

In a few short minutes of losing yourself in the fantasy, with a few more things said back and forth, accompanied by a whole lore more moaning you can feel the pressure building low, and you choke out, “God, M’ getting close over here-”

“Same, fuck, I’m almost there-” He sounds so unbelievably hot when he is near the edge, you wonder briefly if he thinks the same about how you sound, but he keeps talking and your mind goes blank, “C’mon, I want to hear it, fucking do it, cum.”

It wasn’t a question, it had a harsher edge, you’d land it more in the camp of being a command, your eyes squeeze shut as you focus on the idea of him holding the toy to you, of him using it to get you off, and you are done for. You cum so hard that you cannot contain your moans and midway through your own peak you can hear him reach his own end, the broken off curse sounds so good you wish you could make it your text tone. Once you’ve both ridden out your respective highs, you turn your toy off and put it aside, laying back to relax.

The come down is quiet, just the pair of you connected on the phone and panting, feeling amazing. You get an idea and pick up your phone, you snap a quick picture of the lower half of your face, a flirty smile as well as your slick toy resting on your chest, you send it off, and you can hear when he opens it up half a minute later. He laughs, sounding clearly delighted, “Nice picture.”

“Thanks, thought you might like to see the aftermath.” You sigh, and he says, “You guessed right, here, give me a second.”

In a few seconds time, you have a picture of your own in your inbox, him shirtless with cum splattered on his stomach again, it reminds you of that first night from over a month and a half ago, and you smile at the memory. “Very nice, I love these pictures, the cum plays great off your tattoos.”

He laughs a little more unsure, “Thanks?”

“It’s a compliment, that’s good praise right there! Appreciate it!” You protest so fervently he belts out a laugh, and the conversation continues on for a while longer, playful banter that flows like water, with a complete and comfortable ease. Twenty minutes flies by before you say, “Well, I’m gonna go, but we should call like this again.”

He agrees, you can hear the smile in his voice, “Yeah, soon.”

“Totally.” You confirm, and before you go, you realize something and so you say, “Wait.”

“Yes?” He asks, and you say, “We haven’t shared names so far and that is fine with me, I know why, but we are deep enough in that I think we should have something to call each other, right?”

“Oooh, you think were there in our relationship?” He teases, and you laugh, “I’d like to think so, but it’s more that I want to have something to moan when I’m cumming for you.”

“You strike a compelling argument.” He hums, and then says, “I’ll trust you to come up with something adequate if you trust me to do the same.”

Eye for an eye, how very like you both, you tell him, “I think I can get behind that, thanks again for the great time, night.”

“Night.” He returns before you hang up.

The phone sex enters the regular rotation, it has really improved your dynamic, and honestly your life, you feel less stressed, more relaxed, overall mood completely improved.

After that first phone call, the non-sexual communication becomes more frequent, you ask him for some music recommendations and pass some back, a few normal pictures are sent, and casual conversation struck, you feel like you are getting to know him better in the times between you are getting off together. A perfect example is you sending a picture of your hand curled around a coffee once you’ve gotten to work, complaining of the long day ahead and him responding, “Least your nails look cute, new polish?”

Since the advancement of the phone calls, you can hear how he’d say it, causing a smile to paint your face as you type out a response, “It is, you want to know the name so you can paint yours to match?”

You joke a lot and have gotten very comfortable teasing each other, part of it is because it is fun, and part of it is to cover your ass just a bit, you think he looks great with his nails painted, you wish he’d indulge in it more but asking for that? Feels a shade too far, a little too intimate for what you are. One of the most frequent pictures you get from him, (when he is clothed), is whatever sketch he is working on, and you love seeing his art and whatever the current project is. He has a great handle on perspective and clearly knows his wheelhouse, if it wasn’t overstepping and would ruin this whole thing you think you’d like and be proud to get a tattoo done by him.

After another lazy afternoon conversation, the conversation was centred again on what you’d both been listening to, you had been cleaning earlier and listening to a song he’d sent and were just complimenting him on his good taste, trying out that nickname you’d been contemplating for a while, “Seriously, how you find such good stuff, music man?”

The response was immediate, ignoring the majority of your sentence and focusing on the last two words, it wasn’t even a text, he sent a voice note, his tone incredulous as he inquires, “Music man? Do I give Broadway vibes?”

You laugh and send your own voice note in response as you defend yourself, “I mean, you are pretty dramatic, but ignoring that, you say you aren’t a Broadway guy, yet you picked up that was a musical theatre reference right away.”

“It isn’t like it’s a deep cut!” Comes his reply that makes you laugh even harder, before sending back, “You are never beating the theatre fan allegations, I am sorry.”

“Goddamnit, okay so, forgetting all that, you think music man is the best nickname you can come up with?” He asks and, you return, “I think it fits a lot better than just calling you the name of some musical artist or band, it is more all encompassing, and with how much new stuff you’ve been turning me onto it makes sense.”

“You talk about me like I’m a drug dealer for music.” It is said jokingly, but it has an undercurrent of fondness.

“I think that’s apt, you’re my music man.” You coo the last two words teasingly, thinking to yourself that you are going to try moaning it out later and see if you can’t change his mind, or at least make him laugh, probably the ladder.

True to your word, later on you do try that, in the heat of the moment, the pair of you touching yourselves while on a phone call you moan it out and that causes you both to break down laughing and halts things for a minute. He manages to get out between laughs, “God, you’re the worst! Totally got the drop on me. I am vetoing, music man is a non-sexual nickname, only! Got it?”

“Got it.” You giggle and soon find your rhythm together again. You know it is all fine because he is nice enough to send you a special video after you’d both gotten off the phone call. He had been using a toy himself, one he bought a bit ago, said he was inspired by your ample toy collection you love to show off to him, and so he took a video of him lifting the fleshlight up and off, letting the messy cum pour back out onto his mostly hard dick.

Your response is simple, an easy joke typed out of, “Hey, so can I eat the cum out of your fleshlight or-?”

“Oh my God, you are such a freak.” You can hear how he’d say it, and you tap out, “You love it <3.”

“True, it’s one of your best qualities.” You knew it.

You had been doing this song and dance for nearly three months, and you are doing your best to not question your arrangement’s longevity, just happy it is still going, why ruin a good thing by overthinking? Both of you have great sexual chemistry and are still having a great time, so on it goes, unquestioned.

It was a Saturday night when the change happens, you had been busy and hadn’t gone out in a couple of weeks, you were going to have a good time, some drinks, maybe take a few risky semi public pictures and send them off to your sext buddy, it’ll be fun. You come home from work, have a shower, then take some serious time to get ready, go out for a late dinner, and after that you head to a cool sounding bar you’ve heard hyped up.

Upon arriving you see the place is about three quarters full, seems to have a good vibe, you make your way up to the bar, take an open stool and pick up a drink menu to see the specialty cocktails they have on offer. You are humming to yourself, some song that he sent to you has been stuck in your head all week, debating whether you want to commit to a vodka or whiskey based drink when your phone vibrates on the bar top. You glance at the phone screen and see that he texted you, a small smile crosses your face as you scoop up your phone and swipe on the notification to see, “Work is dead as shit, I am getting the opportunity to bail early, what’s going on with you?”

“Went out for dinner, just grabbing a drink at a new bar.” You type out your response and the bartender finally addresses you, another quick glance at the menu, and you pick whiskey for the night, he steps away to make your drink as your phone vibrates again. He texted back, “You know, that is a great idea, I might go out for one or two myself before I go home.”

With a grin, you respond, “If you strike out, you want to hook up later?”

The bartender sets the drink in front of you as his response arrives, “Absolutely.”

Something fun to look forward to, and even if he meets up with someone, hey you might be able to sweet talk him into sharing dirty details later, sounds like a win-win to you. Picking up the cool glass, you take a sip and find that yes, the drink is very good too, honestly this is going to be a fantastic night, you can just feel it.

You enjoy the atmosphere, the music, your drink and the general din of the people in the bar. After a little time you debate texting a picture of your drink, or better yet, slipping off to the bathroom to take something much more risque’ to send off. Until someone else walks up beside you at the bar to order, you glance briefly for a moment, or you mean to, until your eyes land on him, then you can’t look away.

There is absolutely no fucking way, I mean what are the chances? It can’t be him but also, it has to be. You have gotten so many pictures over the past few months, you haven’t seen higher than the lower half of his face, that matches though, the septum piercing, the facial hair, that mouth; you have become pretty intimately familiar with the rest of him too. He is in a black t-shirt and pants, leather jacket slung over the empty stool between you both, you scan his arms, and you know those tattoos very well, had seen them in so many pictures it is crazy.

He hasn’t said anything yet, you are sure it is him, but if he speaks then that will really seal it, make it undeniable, you still can’t buy it because just, what are the odds? You and he both ending up beside each other in the same bar on the same night after all that has happened? It is just too good to be true, as much as you wanted it to be, you had never allowed yourself to seriously hope that it could. You never suggested meeting up in person for a few reasons, one, you were worried your chemistry might not transfer to real life and would ruin such a good thing, and two, you assumed you weren’t in the same town, the same area code doesn’t promise that afterall.

Your eyes tear away to focus on your drink, you take another drink and the bartender comes back, you feel brief hope as you listen up, poor you though; he must be a regular here, because without having to ask a drink is placed in front of him. He picks it up, and you are worried he is about to step away, so with another swallow of your drink to give yourself some courage you turn towards him to see he is already looking at you.

The intense eye contact is maintained.

Silence hangs for a long moment.

You speak first, more confident than you thought yourself capable with the nerves twisting your stomach up, “Hey music man.”

Eyebrows raise slightly, lips part, complete surprise overtaking, a shake of his head as he speaks, “No fucking way.”

You smile and laugh lightly as you shrug, “I was thinking that very thing the second I saw you.” With a nod, you gesture to the stool next to you his jacket is still laying on, and he removes it, sits down before he puts it over his lap, and he speaks again, “No seriously, I was looking at you thinking how familiar you looked and wasn’t sure, but I didn’t want to assume-”

“And look totally stupid if you were wrong, right?!” You finish his thought and both of you share a laugh, he responds, “Fuck, exactly!

An hour passes with total ease as you talk, you go over the fact that you both lived in the same town this whole time without realizing it and apparently never crossing paths, the insane odds of this happening, but that you were both glad it shook out this way. You talked about the fact his tattoo shop was on this street, you talked about how near where you lived, and where your job was, a few other things and honestly, you felt good, the energy is managing to carry over to real life, thank God.

Soon you say, “Oh, we should probably actually exchange names now, right?”

He nods and says, “About time, right? I’m Erik.”

You tell him your name and hold your hand out, he takes it with a chuckle, and you shake hands, saying in a light tone, “So nice to finally meet you.”

“Couldn’t agree more.” He responds.

You can’t look away as you both talk, you were totally right, he is very hot, the kind of messy “I don’t care” quality to his hair, his blue eyes, his casual body language, you are very down bad. On top of that, it is fulfilling to get to see the whole picture and talk like this. You wonder if he thinks the same thing about you, is he pleased with the whole picture now that he has it?

After much more conversation, another drink each, much lighter and looser the conversation takes the natural and expected turn, you say, “Sooo, I don’t live that far away.”

“Smooth.” He jokes with a grin, and you nudge his shoulder with yours, “Asshole. You are just as much of a dick in person as on the phone.”

“I think you love it, and besides I can’t help it, getting to see your reactions in person? I can’t pass that up. You are just too easy.” He defends, and you take your in as you say in a flirty tone, “You have no idea how easy I can be.”

He stops leaning on the bar as he leans just a little closer into you instead, eyes clearly raking over you, “I think I might have some idea after all this time, not like I’m much better though.”

Next, you let your hand fall to his knee and squeeze as you say, “I was gonna say, you did kick this whole thing off.”

He scoffs, “Ah the ol’ you started it argument, I’ve been a fan of it since childhood, you really can’t beat it.”

“To be clear, I’m glad you started it, but come on, you have to admit it’s a lot easier to initiate on the phone. You send a dirty pic and the ball is rolling.” You tease, and he hums in agreement, his hand comes down to meet yours on his knee, you lift it, he initiates your fingers twining and tangling together, he retorts in that tone that you’ve become so familiar with over the phone, “So go to the bathroom and send a picture while you are in there, obviously.”

You laugh, your head pitching forward slightly, “God, you are so brilliant, how did I never think of that?”

His hand that isn’t holding yours closes around his glass, he takes a drink, and you take that moment, your hand squeezes his as you say after another moment, “After everything, aren’t you dying to know how it would actually be?”

His drink is set back down.

“If we really fucked?” He asked it a lot quieter, you look up and there is this change in the air, you had felt the tension slowly building over the entire conversation with him, you had both started to get closer, touchier, feeling one another out. You’d have to be stupid to not see where this was inevitably going, you get it, you are now sure that neither of you wanted to assume anything or jump the gun, but it’s painfully obvious you both want this, badly.

This whole time, you have been doing a lot of talking, and you love talking to him, getting to know him has been amazing, but you are in person now, before you didn’t have this option, but now you do. Since this thing began you both continue to escalate, and you figure that now it is your turn again, your other hand comes up to the back of his neck, you tug him down and you kiss him.

The response is immediate, he kisses you back in a way that shows that he has been craving this just as desperately as you and for just as long. Your fingers run through the hair at the nape of his neck, and you pull him just a little closer as his lips part and with the smallest hint of tongue he draws a quiet sound from you at the shock of arousal it delivers. Yeah you cannot continue this here.

You pull back, dropping the volume of your own voice, lips two inches apart as you answer his earlier question, “Yeah.”

The remainder of your drinks are abandoned, you had already paid and off you go, your purse slung over your shoulder and his leather jacket is thrown on as you head out the door. The trip to your place was swift, hand in hand, you are glad you lived so nearby and shortly you were inside and getting your shoes off. The trip to your bedroom is slow going, now that you were away from prying eyes you were back on each other, he initiates it this time, kissing you before you could move away from the door. You return his efforts, dropping your purse to the floor and shrugging out of your coat, you’ll deal with them later.

As the kissing continues, you are helping him out of his jacket, walking backwards as you try to steer you towards your bedroom.

You are kind of losing your mind during this, all the build up and anticipation, the worry this wouldn’t live up to the hype was very real, but turns out the fear was unfounded, this feels incredible. His jacket is tossed on the couch on the way, you manage to pant out between kisses, “Down the hall, here-”

A nod before he kisses you again, following as best he can but clearly much more caught up with the ongoing make out, until you pull away with a laugh and take him the last bit of distance to your room, the door is opened, and you push him inside. He takes a brief look around, giving the normal customary compliment, “Nice room.”

“We can talk room decor later, get on the bed.” You gesture to the plush and soft furniture as you quickly turn on your bedside table lights. He does as he is told, even as he comments, “Awfully bossy in person.”

“Yet you are still so obviously hard, I could get bossier if you want, like how about you start getting some of those clothes off?” As you say this, you start to strip, there isn’t much to tonight’s outfit, you peel off the tight dress and toss it aside, leaving you standing there in the panties you picked out tonight, you’d intended to show them off to him later, now though he is going to be able to take them off of you.

“Oh my God.” His eyes were fixed on you and yes he was rushing to get his own clothes sorted out, shirt taken off and thrown aside, you start to cross over to him as he begins to open his belt and pants. You get onto the bed and start to help him, soon as his pants are down his knees you swing a leg over and straddle him, you’ve been waiting long enough, and you don’t want to wait much longer.

Your lips capture his and his hands are on your back, pulling you close as can be so you are chest to chest, your tongue slips into his mouth and God, you are so far gone for him. You already thought he was mouth-wateringly hot, totally your type, but knowing he is just as into you, and it feels this good, this easy to actually be this way in real life, you know this is going to feel amazing.

A move of your hips, you grind down and feel him through the thin remaining layers you have on and you both gasp out a moaning into the kiss, he grinds up to meet you and fuck, you need him already. “Erik, been dying to ride you, can I?”

“Yes, holy shit-” He agrees, and he reaches down, fumbles to get his underwear down, and you pull your panties to the side, he holds himself steady, and you line yourself up; his tip kisses your soaked hole, and fuck, you can feel his piercing, there is no way you are having him any other way than raw. You take a second to grind on his shaft, to test how he feels sliding against your dripping slit and your aching clit, and you could get used to that.

You wait for just a moment more, taking a deep breath before you drop and begin to take him. Sharing a moan between you both until you come to rest with him fully inside, you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply again.

The make out picks back up, messy tongue kisses, needy as you start to ride him, rocking against him and him working with you. He can’t stop his hands, they slide up down your back and pause at your hips to squeeze, before resting on your hips and helping you move better, you rock down as he fucks up. The most common thing you manage to moan out between kisses is his name, you love that you know it now, the taste of it on your tongue is addicting, getting to pant it while you fuck him raw is setting you completely on fire.

He is breathing your name in kind, the kiss is broken, his head tips back, and you take the chance, your mouth attacks his neck, the salt of his skin invades your senses, and your arms unloop, wanting to touch him again. Your hands start to explore like his had, they run up his sides and your fingers brush over his nipples, and he stiffens in response. You bite the side of his neck gently as you start to play with his piercings in earnest, he acts like he has been shocked from the way it rocks his body. You pull back enough to look at his face, pausing your riding as you check in, “This okay? Do they hurt?”

He laughs lightly, “No-ohh, they hurt to get sure, bu-but now, oh fuck-” Erik releases the best groan he had all night and your blood sings, you crave to hear that again. You tug carefully, ”Is it good?”

You asked it in a teasing voice, and you think you could feel him throb inside you, his hips thrust up involuntarily, oh this is going to be so fun. Starting to ride him again, harder, the sound of skin on skin becoming much louder, you twist and toy with the metal as he chokes out, “Yeah, s’fucking good-”

“God, they seem, ahh, really sensitive.” You comment, eyes fixed on his face as you pinch both of his nipples between two fingers, and he nods, an incoherent moan and this is so good. You are much more concerned with this, with ruining him than cumming yourself, you push him onto his back, and he allows this, he falls easily, and you take in the sight of him under you. Adjusting yourself, you lean forward, hips continuing to work as you kiss down his chest, your tongue circles around one nipple, and he inhales sharply, the sound drives you forward. Your lips close around it, teeth sink in, and you nip lightly, and you aren’t sure you heard him right the first time so you do it again and yes, you are able to confirm he whines.

You don’t think you’ve heard him sound this needy, you bite harder, he exhales harshly, before you are switching to the other side, and he says, “Wa-wait, fuck, hold on-”

Now even though this is your first time fucking, you know that tone, can tell from all those videos, voice notes and phone calls, from all the months of experience, he is getting close. The thought of him being so into you playing with his piercings that it is threatening to make him cum early is making you melt, you have decided that is all you want.

You continue to tongue and bite, speeding up your riding, and he lets out this weak laugh, like he is trying to play it off, but quickly it bleeds, shifts into him moaning brokenly, “No-ohhh, seriously, if you don-don’t, sto-op, I’m gonna-”

He didn’t have as good as of a grip as he thought he did, his end rockets through him, he wraps his arms around you and fucks up into you all the way, a certified whimper as he cums into you. He holds you to him as he unloads, and you feel the slick warmth, you shiver and feel immense satisfaction, mouth letting go of skin and metal as it curves into a smile. His arms loosen, and he sighs into your ear, you sit up, looking down at him, his face is flushed, and it has spread down his neck and chest, he is panting, eyes closed, hair even messier and a little sweaty. With a grin, you ask him, “You still with me, Erik?”

“Yeah, I’m still with you.” He groans, hands rubbing over his eyes, and then when they move, his lids crack open and blue eyes meet yours as he huffs out with a half smile, “Fucking bitch.”

You laugh, light and warm, “What? Wasn’t that good?”

A hand runs through his hair as he admits, “Fucking, of course it was! But this is our first time fucking after how much lead up? I busted in like five minutes, you didn’t even cum, it’s embarrassing.”

You are laughing from his tone, how annoyed he sounds, he is unfairly funny, you reassure, “Hey it’s fine, I kinda purposefully milked it outta you, no hard feelings, you’ll get me next time, right?”

“Are you planning on kicking me out already?” He asked, and you shrugged, “No I wasn’t, why? You wanna sleep over?”

“Sure, but I’m getting you off before that.” His hands close on your hips, and he lifts you up and manages to toss you onto your side next to him on the bed, “Woah!”

His takes the remainder of his clothes off, pants and underwear left on your floor before his hands rip your underwear off leaving you both completely bared. His hands are on your waist, and he adjusts you so you are on your back, and he moves down, before you can protest or really say much of anything he is on his knees on the floor, pulling you nearer and putting your legs over his shoulders. Erik’s tongue swipes up the centre of your folds, and you gasp, so he isn’t afraid of his own cum, very good to know. Another lick right through the middle, from your hole to up and over your clit, and then he starts to slide into finding his rhythm, you sink into the mattress, a moan spilling out, eyes falling closed. Your hand slides down your body and tangles in his hair, and you are thrown back to that first text conversation, that image that permeated your brain, of the hot alternative guy on his knees, eating you out while you hold his hair, and it makes your clit throb against his tongue. You moan in bliss, disbelief that you managed to get into this position.

All this from a mis-entered phone number, who would have ever thought?

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dumbass-mha-simp · 2 months ago

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OKAY, SO AM I BLIND AF OR DID SOMEONE ELSE ALSO NOT NOTICE HE'S ACTUALLY CRYING IN THIS SCENE??

Oh, poor babyyyy

I need more angst of him.

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dumbass-mha-simp · 2 months ago

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i just love that erik is this dickish tatted up mega-pierced punk emo boy and he's also just such a family man. hanging out with his little cousin. his dad is his lockscreen. always hyperaware of his brother's nut allergy. and no one makes fun of him for any of this. just lovely

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dumbass-mha-simp · 2 months ago

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This isn’t really a request but the idea of Erik’s girlfriend saying “no! I will not get your face tattooed on my ass cheek!” really loudly to embarrass him in front of his family (or in public) is living in my head rent free and I had to share

same wavelengths

summary: you have a weird sense of humor and Erik is the only one who could match your freak.

genre: fluff, crack

pairing: erik campbell x reader

words: 1.4k

Note: lmfaoo i can't stop thinking about this and i had to write something for it

Your relationship with Erik was built on love, trust, devotion, and goofiness—which in hindsight is probably why you've had this recurring joke.

The first time it happened, Erik had called you while he was on a family trip. You were at the bar with a couple of friends, more than a little tipsy. He was telling you about the ongoing bonfire he was having alongside his sibling and cousins as the lights flashed on top of you, and the alcohol kept you warm.

"Are you on speaker?" you blurted, words slurring slightly.

You heard rustling at the end of his line. "No, but I am now. Did you want to say something?"

"Yeah, can you get Bobby and Julia on the phone?" His voice sounded farther away as he called for his siblings, ushering Charlie and Stef towards him as well.

"Hi, ___!" Bobby cheerily greeted you, a yawn cutting into the tail-end of your name.

"Hi, everyone!" you paused, listening to their greetings. You smirked to yourself. It was a passing thought, really. All inhibitions were gone, you missed Erik, and you thought that it would be the funniest thing ever.

"I just wanted to say that I formally forgive Erik for putting his underwear in my freezer last week. I know he likes the "cold sensation" or whatever, but I just wanted you guys to know before you find his briefs in your refrigerator," you said in faux sympathy.

There was a long silence on the other line, cut off by Julia's loud laughter. Charlie let out a loud "ew," followed by Stefani's scolding. Bobby's voice was low with disbelief; you barely caught the "Dude, I don't think that's normal."

"I didn't! I didn't—I'm not—where the fuck did that come from?" Erik raised his voice, though you could hear the chuckle behind his words. You giggled uncontrollably, the number of shots you couldn't keep track of amplifying just how silly the situation really is.

"I wouldn't fucking do that, what the hell? ___ pulled that right out of her ass!"

Despite his protests, no one was listening to Erik anymore. He was buried underneath sputters, Bobby and Julia specifically adding onto the bit.

"Oh, is that why you always come down at midnight?"

"I think there's medicine for whatever you have. You should go to a doctor, bro."

Erik turned his attention back to you. His tone was light, just a tiny bit flustered by your sudden claim. "You and I are going to have a heart-to-heart when I get back."

"I love you, Erik," you cooed, voice sickly sweet.

"I love you too, you little shit."

────୨ৎ────

The next time you had an "outburst"—as Erik described it—it was during one of the family barbecues.

Erik stood next to you, his arm wrapped around your waist. Both of you were sipping on cocktails Bobby made while the rest of the family played mega-Jenga and chattered about. Erik leaned over to peck your cheek, shooting you a mischievous grin before lightly smacking your ass while no one was looking.

"Erik," you said his name as a warning. He shrugged, undeterred by your tone.

"What? I was just thinking of asking you to go upstairs so we can play too," he nudged your arm jokingly.

You rolled your eyes, an idea suddenly hitting you. You leaned closer to him, lips barely brushing his. He still had that stupid grin on, but made no move to pull away. He wrapped his other arm around you, pulling you closer so that your hips were pressed against each other.

"You wanna get out of here, Kiki?" you whispered, peering at him below your lashes. He hummed in agreement, slowly moving in to kiss you. That's when you set things in motion.

"For the last time, Erik!" you shrieked, furrowing your brows. The yard immediately went silent, everyone's eyes on you. Erik froze, putting two-and-two together. "I'm not gonna tattoo your face on my ass!"

It was Bobby who broke first, followed by Julia, Charlie, and Stef. He cackled loudly, throwing his head back, damn near jumping off the trampoline. Howard started coughing, trying to cover up his laughter, while Brenda put a hand over her mouth. Even Marty and Darlene caught each other's gaze before turning away to laugh.

To your surprise, Erik stared at you with determination. The corner of his lip curved up, unfazed. He cleared his throat, pausing dramatically.

"Well then, I'm not wearing that dog suit in bed either!" Your jaw dropped in mortification. "I knew you had some kinks, but I really just can't okay?!"

You hit his chest, burying your face in your hands. His chest rumbled beneath you as a second wave of laughter washed around. If you could fold yourself and hide in the grass, you would. You chuckled, letting Erik tug your hands away from your face.

"Can't take what you dish out?" he smirked at you.

"I was just warming up," you wrinkled your nose at him.

For the rest of the day, you were on your toes. Trying to read Erik was difficult. He'd open his mouth and you'd narrow your eyes at him, bracing yourself with an armed retort, only for him to close it and shake his head. You turned away from a conversation with Julia and Stef a couple of times just to see him staring at you with a devious grin and a raised eyebrow.

However, thankfully, you managed to avoid any further absurdities. You both danced around one another, trying to get a feel for when the other person would speak up again.

────୨ৎ────

It would be a few weeks later, during work, when the "game" would restart.

Erik had texted to say if you could come to the parlor and bring the earphones he forgot at your place. You complied, strutting in with confidence oozing out of the baby tee and baggy jeans you wore. The buzz of a tattoo gun filled the shop, leading you to the back.

Erik was hunched over, working on a girl's thigh. His back was towards you, clad in only his favorite leather jacket. Heavy rock music blared in the background, Erik humming along to it.

The girl spotted you first, her eyes lighting up to greet you. You smiled back at her, placing your bag on an empty chair. Erik followed her gaze, eyes landing on you.

"Hey there, doll." He placed the machine down, getting up to quickly embrace you. He planted a kiss on the crown of your head before returning to his work. "Doing anything after this?"

"No, not really," you hummed. "I was thinking I could hang here until your shift was done? Only if I won't be a bother."

"You never are, baby," he mumbled, voice soft. It almost made you feel bad.

"Awh, thank you, honey. I've got your earphones with me, I can give them to you later. And Kiki..." you trailed off, eyes glinting as you watched him. Erik, fully absorbed in his work and still none the wiser, didn't even bat an eyelash.

"Kiki, Bobby's still angry that you ate his turtle. I think you really need to talk to him."

"Paco's a tortoise, babe. Not a turtle," he responded, your words still not sinking in. You bit your lip, grinning as the girl's eyes widened, staring at him in horror. It took him a couple of seconds, only fully realizing what you said when he lifted the machine so he could wipe at the excess ink.

"Wait a fucking minute—what? Can you believe this shit?" He turned towards his customer. She shrugged, still wide-eyed. He whipped his head back to you. "You're really gonna fucking do this?"

You fidgeted in your seat, your smile dying down. Maybe you really did take it too far this time. What if word spread that your boyfriend was a turtle tortoise eater and he got fired? Erik huffed, glaring at you. Then he cracked a smirk. "You're the one who convinced me it was a good plan. You're the one who cooked him, and now you're letting me take the fall?"

You snorted, wrapping your hands around yourself. To the poor girl's bewilderment, the both of you started giggling. It took a few deep breaths for Erik to regain his composure, and even then, he was smiling the entire time he worked.

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dumbass-mha-simp · 2 months ago

Text

slasher summer (m)

Summary: erik gets more than a little excited because of your couple costume for a summer-ween party.

Genre: pwp! smut

Pairing: Erik Campbell x f!reader

Words: 4.9k

CW: Knife play (not a real knife!), mirror sex, face sitting, roleplay (kinda?), very brief panty kink (erik is a freak), gagging, light slapping, degradation

Note: 0% proofread, 100% self-indulgent

It was game over for Erik the second you walked out of the bathroom.

A major thing that you both bonded over was your love for horror films, especially with slashers. There’s just something so fun about watching a group of teenagers getting picked off one by one. Not to mention, how hot some of the killers are. This fixation of yours was something Erik loved to tease you about—not that you were ashamed.

There’s something weirdly sexy about a big, strong man in a mask chasing you. And when he catches you, he pins you against the wall, and sticks something inside you? Verbatim, you’ve explained this to Erik time and time again, only to be met with a soft snort—and at times, followed by rough sex.

This time, Julia and a bunch of her high school friends held a mini-reunion, which was mixed with a Summerween celebration. For the first time in your relationship, you have never seen Erik get so excited over a reunion of any kind. He immediately agreed to putting on a couple costume with you—but of course, done in a way special to only the two of you.

So here he was now, sitting on the foot of your bed, starting to sweat a little under the shimmery, black fabric of the Ghostface robe. He passed the plastic knife from gloved hand to gloved hand while he waited for you to finish your makeup. The mask was lying next to him, ready to be used for the night.

Just as he was about to get up to check on you, the bathroom door opened. You walked out, adding an extra sway to your hips. Subconsciously, Erik licked his lips. The white sweater hugged your figure, tucked under light, baggy jeans. The bob wig was a bit silly, so you made the executive decision to ditch it. You held the cardboard phone up and pressed it against your ear.

“Oh, Mr. Ghostface, the star of your movie is here,” you sing-songed. You walked towards Erik, yelping as he pulled you into his lap. His eyes roamed your body, briefly stopping at the dip of your v-neck, just above the swell of your breasts. You whispered, “Someone likes the costume.”

“As if you don’t like mine.”

He pressed his lips against yours, slowly, deeply. He coaxed your mouth open with his tongue, letting it dance against yours. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him closer. His hand wandered to your chest, kneading your breast over the fabric of the top.

“Erik,” you murmured, trying to pull away. His lips chased yours, continuing to kiss you between words. “We’ll be late.”

“What if we just don’t come?” He pulled away to smirk at you, only to be met with the usual response of you rolling your eyes. He pouted, leaning back into your neck. Finding your sweet spot, he went back to kissing you. This time they came hot and heavy.

You moaned softly as he marked you, alternating between nibbling and licking your skin. When he was satisfied, he sat back, admiring his work. Right under your jaw was a pretty little bruise. You could only hope that the strobe lights and alcohol could mask it.

“Happy?” You furrowed your brows, pretending to be angry, though far from it.

He chuckled, his laugh low and beautiful. “You’d really rather be at that party instead of letting me fuck your brains out?”

“I promised Jules I’d go. She put a lot of effort into planning this, okay?” You ruffled his hair, already getting up. “And Bobby kept talking about how excited he was to show us his costume.”

“He goes as ‘human Lightning McQueen’ every year! You’ve seen this before.” Erik groaned, dramatically plopping back onto the bed.

You giggled at his antics. “We’ll stay for only 30 minutes, and I swear we can book it.”

Just like that, Erik reanimated back to life, a pleased smile on his face. He hurriedly fitted the mask back over his head. Standing next to you in the mirror, he patiently waited as you reapplied your lip gloss.

“Smile for me, gorgeous.” His phone clicked, followed by a flash.

────୨ৎ────

Erik has been eyeing you like prey for the past ten minutes. There you sat, amidst a sea of Bobby’s football friends and Julia’s sorority sisters. True enough, Bobby was chugging a pint of Hice Pale Ale, ignorant of the liquid spilling into his shiny, red, racer jacket. The yellow “95” gleamed across his back. Beneath it, someone had taped some notebook paper with the word “kachow!” on it.

The last time you saw Julia was when she greeted you at the doorway. You almost didn’t recognize her with the red wig. Fake vines wrapped around her limbs, little leaves jutting out of them. They all connected to the back of her green dress, the hem distressed to look like foliage.

“Poison Ivy?” you grinned at her. Her eyes lit up. She hummed in approval, twirling around for you. When she spun back, she took one look at your couple costume and snorted.

“Woah, you guys really are freaky.” She pretended not to notice the hickey on underneath your jaw.

Since then, she’s been whisked away into the backyard. You could barely hear the trampoline springs over the booming music, making you feel as if the whole house was jumping along. Beside you, Stefani was telling you about her latest college troubles. You would’ve taken her more seriously if she weren’t dressed as a Disney-bound version of Mirabel Madrigal. She lost you two topics ago, when you caught Erik basically undressing you with his eyes from his side of the room. Not that you could see his blue irises—of course he kept the mask on.

There he was, your Ghostface. A constant reminder of your 30-minute deadline. He was so focused that he didn’t even drink. You tilted your head, biting your lip as Erik followed suit. He lifted a gloved hand, making a call sign against his ear. You brought your attention to your phone.

Nothing.

You raised your head to look back at him, only to find that he was gone. Glancing around the room, you tried looking for the bright, plastic mask. Still no Erik.

“Hey, you okay?” Stefani asked, looking around with you.

“Yeah, sorry. I just thought I saw Erik just a second ago.”

Right then, your phone buzzed, the screen lighting up. You held the caller screen up apologetically to Stefani. She waved you off, promising to get coffee with you the next day.

You side-stepped between bodies in various outfits, sighing in relief once you stepped out the front door. The music was fainter out in their porch, the air fresher. You took a deep breath of it before answering.

“Enjoying the party?”

Almost immediately, you scanned your surroundings. Save for a few costumed smokers, no one else was outside. You looked up at the windows looming over you, all of them blocked by curtains or blinds.

“Don’t worry your pretty, little head over finding me.” You could almost see Erik’s smirk deepen.

“What, you aren’t even gonna say the line?” you bit back sweetly.

“I already know what your favorite scary movie is,” he paused. “Just like how I already know that you’re out on the porch with wet panties. You thought I couldn’t see you rubbing your thighs together the entire time on the couch?”

Your breath hitched. Swallowing thickly, you heard him laugh. “You sure it’s not just the mask making your eyesight shitty?”

“You better fix your tone before I fix it for you.”

“Yeah? And how are you gonna do that when you aren’t even here?” You bit your lip nervously. It wasn’t beyond Erik to find a good, quiet spot out in the open and take you right there. Honestly, his primal need for you never failed to turn you on.

“That’s up to you to figure out, princess. I want to play a little game with you.”

“Wrong movie, smartass.”

“You mouthing off at me?” He chuckled as you stayed quiet, already slipping into subspace. You wanted to whine at him, to beg him to just take you home and fuck your brains out like he promised. But you also still had your pride, and if he wanted to prolong the chase, then damnit, you’ll give it to him before your ego takes a blow. “That’s more like it. What a good girl.”

“What do you want?”

“Do you know the game, ‘hot and cold’?” You perked up. The fucker was going to make you find him.

You took a tentative step towards the road. Erik, his eyes never leaving you from wherever he was, automatically responded. “Cold. Freezing, actually. You learn fast, smart girl.”

Turning around, you slipped back into the house, straining to hear him over all the noise. “Warm.”

You made your way to the kitchen, carefully surveying the packed crowd for even a glimpse of him. You felt eyes boring into the back of your neck. Before Erik could speak, you already knew he wasn’t there. Instead, you followed your gut, pointing you to the staircase.

Maneuvering around college kids passed out on the steps, you finally reached the second floor. The music was still going strong, but you could hear Erik clearly this time. Your eyes roamed across all the doors, some of them left ajar, others shut.

“Warmer.”

One by one, you peeked into each room. Before you could even fully step into one, Erik would already steer you away with an “uh-uh” or an even more annoying “cold, lukewarm.” Finally, you’ve exhausted all other options aside from the last door to the left. Without even looking inside, you already knew that it was Erik’s room, your backup hangout spot ever since he moved in with you.

The door was slightly opened, moonlight seeping into the floorboards as it strained against the sheer curtains. So that was how he could see you before.

“You’re on fire.” His voice was lower, dangerously quiet.

You pushed the door open with a creak. The room looked ordinarily chaotic, yet empty. A mountain of CDs was piled over his desk, next to the spot where he used to keep his PC. His sheets were a mess, a deep, blood red and crumpled. A single sock and a hoodie spilled from his tipped-over laundry bin. Laying neatly in the middle of the bed was the Ghostface mask.

Fully inside now, you shut the door softly behind you. At this point, Erik has fully succeeded in messing with you. You were horny, and now, a bit freaked out and spooked. The light still hasn’t been turned on. Your eyes were just starting to adjust to the darkness, the furniture farther away from you looking like dark splotches bleeding into his bedroom walls.

“Erik!” you whisper-shouted. You rolled your eyes, walking to the foot of his bed. All the noise from the party downstairs was muffled. It almost felt like you were in a separate place, an isolated reality where you lived out the character you dressed up as. Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t catch how the closet door slowly opened. Instead, you were glancing at the ceiling, calling out to him mockingly. “Oh, Mr. Ghostface, please don’t kill me! I want to be in the sequel!”

A clothed hand wrapped around your mouth, stifling the scream from your throat. The tip of a plastic knife pressed against your stomach, forcing you back into the masked man’s body. Something hard pressed against your ass, rutting teasingly against you.

“Finally found me, princess,” Erik drawled out.

Your heart hammered against your chest. Blood rushed to your ears, adrenaline fuelling you. You thrashed around in his grasp, fully playing into your role. His grip on you tightened, pushing you until you were pressed against the wall mirror.

“You almost gave me a heart attack, you asshole,” you whined as soon as he took his hand off your mouth. You grinded your ass into you, making him let out a groan.

“Shut up and hold this for me.” He pressed the knife handle sideways against your mouth. Like a brat, you pressed your lips together tightly. Sighing at your antics, he drew a hand back and slapped your ass. When you yelped, he quickly slotted the knife handle in between your teeth. “There we fuckin’ go. Didn’t have to be so difficult.”

Sloppy kisses trailed down your neck. Erik took his time going over the marks he had already made, making a show of holding your gaze through the mirror as he sucked and bit on the little unmarked skin you had left. He pinned your hips against the glass, bucking into your jeans. You swore you were leaking into the denim.

“Did you have fun playing? I still need to give you a prize. Still need to stick something inside you. Isn’t that what you always wanted?” He softened his voice condescendingly.

He let go of your hips, hands travelling up your stomach. His fingers caught on the fabric of your shirt, lifting it teasingly, before settling on the neckline. You saw his knuckles tighten, your eyes widening as you shook your head in protest. Smirking at you, Erik ripped your shirt down the divot of the v-neck. He pulled the tattered fabric under your breasts, bunching it alongside your bra. You shivered as your nipples pressed against the cool glass.

Erik didn’t waste any time. His large hands enveloped your breasts, offering warmth as he kneaded the flesh. You moaned as he rolled your nipples between his fingers, lightly tugging at them. Gritting your teeth, you threw your head back, letting it fall against his shoulder. The additional friction from the leather gloves made your head swim. He cooed, gently prying the knife from your mouth. Strings of saliva fell from it, dribbling down your cheeks and throat.

“You look so good like this, princess,” he whispered into your ear.

He pressed the tip of the knife into your sternum, putting just enough pressure for it to leave a red mark, but not to actually hurt. You brought your head back down, looking at your position. Erik stood behind you, still fully clothed—save for the mask. And you, on the opposite end of the spectrum, looked spent even before you had properly begun.

Your hair was a mess, stray strands sticking to your cheeks with a mix of sweat and spit. Red lovebites littered the sides of your neck, some of them only deepening in color. What used to be your thin sweater was now a mess of fabric crumpled under your breasts, almost as if framing them. You were panting hard.

On the valley between your breasts, Erik ran the knife up and down. He pressed the flat side onto one tit, slowly scraping it until the tip was digging lightly into your nipple. You moaned, steadying yourself against the mirror. “What are you gonna do to me, you psycho?”

Erik chuckled darkly, withdrawing the knife from you. He turned his attention to your pants, quickly unbuttoning them and unzipping. He yanked them down your legs, letting you shift from one foot to another so you could kick them away. With his free hand, he held you by the throat, dragging you with him as he walked backwards. Hitting the foot of the bed, he pulled you into his lap.

Tucking the knife into the waistband of your panties, he pried your thighs open. You breathed heavily, staring at yourself in the mirror. Reaching around you, Erik rubbed your slit through the ruined fabric.

“I’m gonna have some more fun with you. I wouldn’t want to waste something as precious as this.” He brought his fingers up to your face, pressing them together and separating them, a string of your wetness connecting the digits together. “You’re a sick little whore for enjoying this, aren’t you? Getting wrecked up here while your friends don’t know any better.”

“I-I’m not,” you protested weakly, shuddering when he circled his fingers around your clit. Subconsciously, you arched your back, chasing after his touch. He added pressure, listening in bliss as whines and moans spilled out of your mouth.

“Yeah, you’re not what? Enjoying this, or a slut? Can’t make your mind up when you’re too busy gushing through your panties, huh?” With his other hand, he unsheathed the knife from your panties, pressing the dull blade against your neck. His ministrations grew faster, coiling the rope in your stomach tighter. He growled into your ear, “Look at yourself when I ruin you.”

As soon as you tilted your head towards the mirror, you came undone. Erik rubbed you off, slowly down as you rode out your orgasm. Mentally, you thanked the loud music, clouding the animalistic shriek you just let out.

Limbs turned to jelly, you collapsed back into Erik’s chest. He set the knife aside, slipping both fingers into the waistband of your panties. With your remaining strength, you lifted your hips, letting him peel the ruined fabric off you. You watched, entranced, as he uncovered your wet core. Slick coated the sides of your thighs, dripping down into the curve of your ass.

Erik held your panties in his fist, closing his eyes as he took a whiff. “Jesus, I’d get drunk on that.”

“Fucking freak,” you muttered teasingly, grinning at him.

“What the fuck was that?” He raised an eyebrow. He cut you off with a sharp smack to your cunt. Though not painful, the contact made you jolt in surprise. He then cupped a hand over your heat, soothing you. “Color?”

“Green.”

He lifted you off, stretching your legs as he placed you gently on the bed. You waited patiently as he kicked his boots off, lying down so that the top of his head was pointing towards the mirror. He brought his hands up, gesturing for you to come to him. “Take a seat on your throne, princess.”

You chuckled, scrambling to get on top of him. As you slung a leg over his chest, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You lifted your hips, admiring the sight of Erik’s face between your legs. He grabbed both of your thighs, guiding your pussy to his mouth.

“Can you breathe?” You checked on him.

“Don't need to,” he grinned lazily. You rolled your eyes, slowly dropping your weight until you felt his tongue part your folds. You slotted perfectly on him, his gorgeous nose brushing against your clit.

“Fuck yeah,” you hissed, feeling him lick up your slit. His lips suckled your clit, alternsting between kissing and licking.

You whimpered, rolling your hips in time with each flick of his tongue. Steadying youself, you leaned back, planting your arms on the top of his thighs. Through half-lidded eyes, you watched yourself ride his face.

The feeling was addicting, and the noises were pure filth. Erik didn't shy away from moaning in contentment—the act of eating you out was already so sacred to him. He was loud, messy. Nothing turned him on more than to slowly become lightheaded from being smothered by your pretty pussy.

His grip on you tightened, and you thought it was a sign for you to give him some air. So, like a good girlfriend, you moved to lift your hips up. Almot immediately, Erik clamped down your thighs, digging his fingers into your flesh. He lifted his head up, chasing after your dripping cunt.

“Get the fuck back on me,” he growled, eyes dripping with want, pupils blown out the point where there were only blue slivers around it.

You wanted to laugh at his eagerness, but it was cut off by a moan. You relaxed your thighs again, wholly presenting yourself to him. He focused on your clit, licks getting slobbier. He sucked loudly, smacking his lips as he devoured you.

It felt so good you had started to tear up. The feeling of his tongue on the bundle of nerves consumed all of your thoughts. As your moans got more high-pitched, you shifted, leaning forward so he had better access to your clit. You knotted your fingers into his hair, bringing him impossibly closer to your cunt.

“F-fuck, it's so fucking good baby. So close. ‘M close, ‘m gonna cum. Fuck, I'm gonna cum—!”

You threw your head back, tears leaking as you screwed your eyes shut. Beneath you, Erik kept a firm hold on your thighs, refusing to let you off. Your body shook as you came hard, mind going black for a few seconds until you've reached the end of the high.

Clumsily, you rolled off him when he finally loosened his grip. You collapsed next to him, chest moving rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. Beside you, Erik took a few gulps of air before sitting up as if he wasn't inches away from passing out just a few seconds ago.

“What's with the stupid look on your face?” You tried to sass him, though it came out pathetically in between breaths.

He scoffed, smile only growing wider. He made a show of licking his lips. Your cheeks heated up when the moonlight hit his face, revealing the aftermath. Slick coated his mouth, dribbling across his cheeks and down neck. The tip of his nose glistened, equally covered in your juices.

He draped himself over you, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss. His lips moved slowly against yours, tongue slipping sensually into your mouth. You moaned softly as you tasted yourself on him.

“You still alive or are you tapping out, final girl?” He asked when he pulled away. His words were playful, but you could hear the worry in his gentle voice.

“Drew Barrymore was the first ever kill in the franchise, you poser.”

He snorted at your monotoned delivery. You quirked your lip, offering a small smile. Your eyes landed on his crotch, a prominent tent poking into your thighs.

“I remember talk of sticking something inside me?” You wiggled your eyebrows.

“Oh princess, that was a promise.”

As if flipping a switch, Erik's eyes darkened. He hitched up the thin robe, unbuckling his belt and slipping it out of his belt loops. He wrapped it in between both hands, tugging harshly to make it snap. You rubbed your thighs expectantly, doe-eyed as he took both of your wrists and brought them above your head, tying them together.

He sighed in relief when he finally freed himself. Your mouth watered at the sight of his cock, pre-cum dripping from the red tip. It curved towards his stomach, a vein wrapping around his thick shaft. The metal ball of his prince albert glinted invitingly.

Erik fisted himself slowly, looking down at you like a present he can't wait to tear into. His gaze started at your mascara-streaked face. It crawled down to your tits, chest heaving in anticipation. Finally, it settled on your pussy, the oasis in between your legs. He's gotten you so wet that a damp patch had started to form in the covers.

“Why don't you take a picture, it will last longer,” you huffed impatiently. His eyes snapped back to yours, a dangerous glint in them. You swallowed thickly.

He looked pissed. Pissed in a way that got your thighs rubbing and your throat dry.

He clamped a hand over your mouth, then looked around, as if trying to find something. You caught the way his eyes lit up when he finally saw it. He repositioned his hand so he was holding your jaw. Squeezing down, he forced your mouth open, quickly stuffing your ruined panties in.

“Take a picture, it'll last longer,” he mimicked you. He grasped the base of his dick, slapping it twice on your clit. “I'm not taking your shit anymore, princess.”

“That fucking mouth,” he punctuated each word with a light slap to your cheek. “—is a punishment waiting to happen.”

Suddenly, in one move, he buried himself into you. A muffled scream tore its way out your throat, the sudden intrusion becoming a mix of pleasure and pain. You blinked back tears, wriggling your hips away.

“Yeah? That hurt, princess? Little slut gonna cry?” He goaded, bringing his hips back only to thrust into you again. You mewled, seeing stars as the tip of his piercing brushed your cervix. “Not so fucking smart now, huh?”

He continued to fuck you like that, slow and deep. Each time he snapped his hips, he hit the delicious spot that made your brain short-circuit. You gasped out, shuddering breaths barely making it through the balled up cloth.

Everything felt too much, yet too little. He had hooked his arms under your shoulders, hands pressed flat against the top of your head. Erik used you to push himself deeper, pulling you towards him whenever he sheathed himself in you. You were leaking from both ends, tears streaming from pleasure as your pussy gushed and clenched around his thick cock.

“Fuck, you take me so well. Look at this greedy hole, so fucking eager to get filled with cock,” he flicked your clit, which was still sensitive from the earlier round. You cried out, arching out of the mattress. “All bark, no bite. What's wrong, huh? Out of words?”

“Fuck you,” you wanted to scream out. It came out disjointed, more like an “uck ou” intermixing with a prolonged “aah!” when he hit your g-spot again. He widened his eyes in mock sympathy.

“Oh, you poor thing. Is it too much for your pretty head? Fucking you dumb aren't I?”

He pulled out and—in contrast to his harsh words—gently rolled you onto your stomach. Caging you with an arm on either side, he re-entered easily from all the slick you've made. His scent, alcohol and menthol, his moans, his leather, his hair trickling into your own as he bowed his head—everything about him took over you.

No other thoughts, your eyes glazed over, arms dangling off the footboard, wrists marked by the belt—Erik shifted gears and pistoned in and out of you like his life depended on it. You could already feel another orgasm building up in your lower belly. Your walls clenched around him, toes curling as he abused that fucking spot that made you see stars.

“Look,” he rasped, breath stuttering. Using a hand, he pulled your hair back, tilting your head up. You whined, locking eyes with your wrecked reflection. The girl in the mirror barely resembled you anymore, eyes unfocused, neck in shades of red, face coated in spit and sweat and tears—so much tears from how good it all felt. It spurred you more, moans growing high-pitched.

“I know, I know,” Erik cooed. “Gonna cum? Cream all over my cock, princess, go ahead.”

He sped up, the room filling with loud sounds of skin slapping against skin. Your orgasm washed over you like a rolling tide. Your legs shook, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you bit down hard on your panties. Meanwhile, Erik thrusted shallowly a few more times before burying himself to the hilt. His chin laid against your shoulder, hot breath heavy on you when he let out a long groan.

Ropes of his cum spurted against your walls, filling you with warmth. Sweat dripped from his fringe, dropping to intermix with the light sheen on your shoulder blade. His weight pinned you to the bed, an almost comforting feeling as you both stilled—spent.

Sluggish, he reached into your lips, pulling your panties out and chucking them into the oblivion that was his room. You sighed in relief, opening your jaw a few times to get the ache out. Next, he fumbled with his belt, eventually getting it loose. It fell to the floor with a small, metallic thud.

You panted into the sheets, dizzy as you came down from the high. You were too out of it to recognize him sitting back up, nor the quiet ruffling of sheets. Erik grabbed the hair at the base of your scalp, pulling your head back. You barely registered seeing yourself in his phone camera—eyes glossy, lips and chin slicked with spit. Erik loomed behind you, equally a mess but doubly cocky. He fixed the mask back over his head before feeling around for his phone. When he found it, he bit the tip of the glove on his free hand, dragging it off. He stretched his arm past you, angling the device so you were both on screen.

“Smile for me, gorgeous,” he echoed, snapping a picture.

────୨ৎ────

It was reaching 3 a.m. when you finished. You vaguely remembered the feeling of a damp cloth wiping in between your legs, followed by a fluffy towel. You were still incoherent when Erik had carried you over to Bobby's room, now fitted with his oversized shirt and boxers.

“Not your room,” you had mumbled into his shoulder. Your voice was rough, the result of screaming your lungs out and a dry mouth.

“I know, baby, but I'm not letting you sleep on sticky sheets.” He disappeared downstairs to a mellowing party, and came back with a glass of water. He was still wearing his sweat-soaked costume.

After making you drink water, he quickly changed into new clothes and laid down next to you. You shuffled around, letting him place an arm under your head as you faced him to cuddle.

“I think I passed out,” you whispered. You could feel his chest rumble with a chuckle.

“I might have, too.” He threaded his fingers through your hair, attempting to untangle the knots. “You okay?”

“Won't be walking well for a week, but so worth it,” you grinned lazily. “You ruined my costume though.”

“I'll buy you a new one. Or we can go as someone else next time?”

You hummed in consideration. “Pearl and the projectionist?”

“You know the way to my heart.”

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