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dogey290 · 7 days ago

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Gotta read later and imagine with insert Marzi in 🥺👉👈

Birthday boy

18+

A little lap dance never hurt nobody right?

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ASSHOLE!"

You pounced on Erik’s bed, grinning while he groaned into his pillow like a dying Victorian child.

"NO-LET ME SLEEP FOR FUCK’S SAKE," he growled, voice muffled in cotton and rage.

You flopped dramatically beside him, elbow in his ribs.

"Come onnn, get up! Time to celebrate the decay of your youth. It’s showing, babe. Wrinkles and everything."

He cracked one bleary eye open, looking like a demon freshly summoned.

"Weren’t you supposed to be at work today? Why are you here, ruining my life?"

You grinned. "Told my boss my best friend’s got dementia and I had to drag his ass back to the asylum. They bought it. Idiots."

You and Erik,ride or die since high school detention. He got busted for smoking behind the bleachers. You were there for yanking a sixth grader across the cafeteria by his collar. No regrets. Since then, it’s been you two against the world,chaos dorks with a sexual tension problem.

He chucked a pillow at your face. "Fuck off. Let me die in peace."

"Erik Campbell.Get. Out. Of. Bed."

"Make me."

Challenge accepted.

You straddled him, which clearly short-circuited his sleepy brain. His eyes snapped open.

"Peach, you’re giving me a boner. Seriously." He groaned, covering his face.

"Aww, poor baby." You trailed a finger down his chest like you definitely weren’t thinking about how stupidly hot he looked. Or how his hard-on was currently pressing into your ass like it had a vendetta. You tugged at his nipple ring just to be a menace.

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST" he howled, yeeting you off him like a sack of sins.

"PEACH, I SWEAR TO GOD-"

You bolted for the door but he was faster,of course he was faster. He caught you mid-air like and hauled you back. You squealed , laughing.

"See? Now you’re awake!"

"Awake and homicidal," he snapped, but he wasn’t letting go. "I have one day off. ONE. I worked until 4AM. And you-" he tossed you on the bed again, now looming over you like the devil himself, "decide today is brat day? You’re gonna pay for that."

Your heart? Absolutely losing its damn mind. Sure, you’d kissed before. Once. Okay, twice. But that always ended in awkward silence and avoiding eye contact for a week. Since then,just glances. Touches. Maybe too many cuddles. Maybe a few too many neck kisses that weren’t quite pg13. A situationship in denial, with zero sex but way too much tension.

"Okay okay,but your mom made pancakes and I’m starving-" you whined, arms now traitorously wrapped around his neck.

"Nah, I’m craving something else for breakfast," he murmured, voice low enough to fry your spine. "It’s my birthday after all."

He bit your earlobe, then started sucking on your neck like he was trying to ruin your life on purpose. Your skin caught fire.

His eyes shifted,darker, hungry. They landed on your lips like a man looking at dessert and deciding to skip dinner.

"You can’t just use your birthday as an excuse for-"

You gasped when he pressed harder against you. Words? Gone. Brain? Gone. Dignity? Also gone.

"Oh, I absolutely can," he chuckled. "And you’re gonna let me."

He leaned in,lips hovering so close you could practically taste him-

"KIKI! GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE! AUNT VIVIAN CAME TO VISIT!"

Julia’s voice screeched from downstairs like a curse from the underworld. Aunt Vivian: certified bone killer.

Erik sighed like his soul had been ripped out. He stood up, defeated, but not before placing one very deliberate kiss on your collarbone.

"Come on, Peach. Let’s get you some pancakes before I decide dessert’s back on the menu."

You couldn’t even speak. Just lay there, blinking, wondering if anyone’s ever died from being too turned on at 9AM.

Spoiler: probably. And if not,you might be the first.

‚ "What are you guys up to today?"

Julia asked, barely looking up from her phone as she murdered a pancake with her .

"Nothing. I just want to sit in bed and slowly decay," Erik mumbled, slumped over his plate.

You didn’t even hesitate,you slapped him in the face with a pancake.

"We’re going to a concert, actually, fucker," you smirked, proud and dangerous.

"PEACH, LANGUAGE!"

Mrs. Campbell turned around, mom reflexes activated, and gave you a light, disciplinary slap to the back of the head.

"Sorry, Mrs. Campbell. But your son is a menace. He’s aging like a grumpy, dying dog." You sighed dramatically and shoved half a pancake into your mouth .

"He’s been like that his whole life, sweetie," she said, totally unfazed. "They pulled him out of me and the doctors said he hissed at them."

You and Julia lost it. Laughter exploded like a grenade across the table.

"That’s because they dared disturb my slumber," Erik deadpanned, giving you a withering glare.

You flipped him off.

He flipped you off right back, but with the enthusiasm of a sleep-deprived vampire.

"And what concert are you dragging me to this time? I swear, if it’s one of your girly-pop glitter fairy shit-"

"LANGUAGE, JESUS CHRIST!" Mrs. Campbell hollered again before vanishing into the garden to drink her coffee and reconsider motherhood.

"First of all, it was one girly-pop concert. And second,you had fun. I saw you busting moves."

"No, I didn’t," he grumbled, chewing aggressively on a mouthful of strawberries like they insulted his family.

You leaned in, smug. "We’re going to Bad Omens. Got the tickets last night."

That finally got his attention.

"...Fine," he grumbled, defeated-

But then his expression twisted. "Wait,what the fuck am I sitting on-?"

He jumped up, chair tipping, looking personally violated.

"OH MY GOD, PACO! I THOUGHT I LOST YOU!"

Bobby flew into the room like a panicked tornado, scooping up his turtle like it was his child after a custody battle.

"That little shit was poking me in the ass!" Erik looked done. Like, call the morgue done.

You didn’t miss a beat.

"Butt-fucked by a turtle... isn’t that in your porn history?"

Erik choked on his coffee. Hard. Julia was crying from laughter.

"I swear to God, I will strangle you in your sleep," he wheezed.

"Good luck today, Peach," Julia sighed. "This one’s a menace."

She made her exit, leaving you and Erik at the table,him still twitching, you still grinning like a criminal who got away with murder.

Later that night. The crowd buzzed with excitement. Everyone was hot. Sweaty. Loud. Just like your brain when Erik grabbed your hand to drag you toward the pit.

“Let’s get close,” he shouted over the noise.

You nodded, trying not to combust. His grip was strong, possessive. He didn’t let go until you were dead center, inches from the barricade. You felt his chest press to your back so you wouldn’t get crushed by the crowd, and your brain short-circuited.

The lights dimmed. Screams erupted. The band walked out.

Music hit like a thunderclap, and you were gone. Screaming, jumping, living your absolute best unholy life. Erik was right there with you, hand in yours during every beat drop, yelling lyrics in your ear, and maybe,just maybe,his hand slid down to your waist and stayed there.

You pretended not to notice.

He pretended not to care.

The tension pretended it wasn’t about to tear the sky in half.

You were drenched in sweat, voice gone, grinning like an idiot. You stumbled out into the night air, breathing like you’d just survived a spiritual awakening.

“That. Was. UNHOLY.” you gasped.

“I need a shower and five years of therapy,” Erik said, still buzzed on adrenaline.

“You loved it,” you nudged him.

“I tolerated it.”

"You screamed every lyric."

"I blacked out. That wasn't me."

You and Erik stood near the back alley for some air. You leaned against the brick wall, head tilted up to the night sky. He stood beside you, hands in his pockets.

“That was… kinda cool,” you whispered.

He looked at you. Really looked. The kind of look that stripped your soul and poked around your deepest secrets.

“Yeah,” he said, quieter now. “It was.”

The silence grew thick. Heavy.

Your heart stuttered when he reached out, tucking a sweaty strand of hair behind your ear like a walking cliché.

“Peach,” he murmured.

You turned your head just slightly,and there he was. Inches away. Lips parted. Breath unsteady. One second of courage away from changing everything.

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” he said, voice rough, raw.

You didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just whispered, “Took you long enough.”

And then he kissed you like the world was ending, like he’d been holding back for years and finally let it all out in one feral, messy, perfect moment. Your back hit the wall. His hands hit your waist. Your brain hit the fuck it button and exploded.

You were still catching your breath, clinging to Erik like he was the only thing holding you up against the brick wall,because, let’s be honest, he was. His mouth was still on yours, hands on your hips, eyes dark with hunger.

Then-

BZZZZZZZ. BZZZZZZZ.

Your phone buzzed violently in your back pocket. You groaned into his lips and pulled back, forehead resting against his.

“…If that’s God calling to stop us again, I’m gonna throw hands,” Erik muttered.

You fished out your phone and stared at the screen.

“Ugh. It’s the Uber. It’s here.”

He sighed like he’d just been told his favorite band broke up. “Are you serious? I just got to the good part.”

You shoved your phone in his chest. “Welcome to the cinematic tragedy of our love life.”

He smirked. “We don’t have a love life.”

“Yet.”

You winked, turned, and strutted off like you didn’t just get devoured by your best friend behind a dumpster.

Back at the Campbells' house:

You walked through the door and the lights flipped on. People yelled. Confetti exploded. Someone blew a party horn with alarming aggression.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ERIK!!”

Erik blinked like he’d walked into the wrong dimension. You were already cackling as he stood there stunned, glitter in his hair, absolute betrayal in his eyes.

"You traitor," he whispered to you.

You grinned. "Surprise, fucker."

His mom came over with a giant cake that said "Another Year Closer to Death <3" in pink frosting. It was decorated with mini skulls and what looked like... knives?

"She gets me," Erik said, actually smiling.

The party was wild. Julia DJed. Bobby tried to do a keg stand with juice boxes. Paco the turtle was not allowed out of his tank this time. There were questionable dance battles, blackmail-worthy pictures, and you may or may not have licked frosting off Erik’s cheek in front of ten people.

You caught him looking at you like he wanted to start the party all over again,just for the two of you.

After everyone left the house was quiet. Lights dimmed. You showered first,needed to scrub off the sweat, beer, and accidental body glitter some cousin of Erik's threw on you.

You walked into his room, towel-drying your hair, wearing one of his oversized black t-shirts and a pair of shorts. Comfy. Dangerous.

And there he was,sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, hair still damp, legs spread in a way that should be illegal.

You raised an eyebrow.

“What,” you said, smirking. “Waiting for your birthday lap dance now?”

He didn’t even blink.

“Depends. You offering?”

You paused. Just for a second.

Then you gave him that look,the one that had gotten you both in trouble at least four times already today.

“Depends,” you teased, walking toward him slow, every step heavy with tension. “You ready for your heart rate to spike again, grandpa?”

He grabbed your wrist and tugged you down into his lap with a force that said he was very much ready.

“Make me feel young again, Peach.”

You grinned.

“Careful what you wish for.”

And this time-

No mom.

No turtle.

No Uber.

No distractions.

Just you. Him.

You slid onto his lap, slow, teasing, like you knew exactly what you were doing,because you did.

Erik’s hands were already there, gripping your waist tight like his palms had memorized the shape of you in every fantasy he’d ever had.

He pulled you in closer, tighter, like he wanted to fuse you to him.

Your fingers found the back of his neck, your touch light but lethal.

“You’re going to ruin me, Peach,” he whispered, voice wrecked already.

You leaned in, lips brushing his jaw.

“That was the plan all along,” you whispered, and kissed his cheek so sweet it made his whole body shudder.

Then—your lips met his.

And it exploded.

Hot. Wet. Desperate.

Like you’d both been holding back for years and now? Fuck it.

You moaned into his mouth,just a little,and it shattered him.

“Fuck, Peach,” he groaned, breath ragged as he trailed kisses down your neck. But not soft ones. No,bites.

Messy, claiming bites that made you gasp and cling to him harder.

He sucked a mark into your skin like a madman. “You’re driving me insane.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, chest heaving.

“You sure about this?”

You grabbed his face with both hands, staring straight into those wild, storm-colored eyes.

“I’ve been craving this since the first time you kissed me, dumbass.”

That was all it took.

He growled, and flipped you onto your back like you weighed nothing, like the mattress had offended him.

“You’re such a brat sometimes,” he muttered, kissing down your throat, lips landing on your collarbone with reverence and danger all at once.

Then softer. “My brat.”

His hand slid under your shirt, palming your stomach, then higher,so slow it was torture.

You arched into him. “You talk a lot for someone who’s not inside me yet.”

He choked on a laugh. “You’re going to be so annoying when I make you come.”

“Then shut me up,” you dared, voice low, lips parted, skin begging.

“Oh, I plan to.”

He yanked off your shirt kissing your bare skin like he wanted to memorize it. He dragged his mouth down to your chest, sucking marks into the soft skin like he was branding you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair.

“Don’t tease-”

“Not teasing,” he said, sliding your shorts down with one hand, “just appreciating.”

Then he was there, fingers slipping through your wetness like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Jesus, Peach,” he whispered, voice cracked. “You’re so fucking wet. For me?That ‘s what I call a birthday gift”

“Always for you,” you gasped, legs already shaking as he rubbed slow, perfect circles around your clit. "Fuck,you always knew what you were doing to me, didn't you?"

He smirked against your skin. “Maybe. Maybe I just liked watching you squirm.”

You grabbed his jaw, pulled him up, and bit his bottom lip. “Your turn.”

He didn’t even answer,just lined himself up and pushed in, inch by inch, like he had all the time in the world to destroy you.

Your back arched. Your moan was filthy.

“Oh my god-”

He stilled inside you, jaw clenched.

“Feel that?” he whispered. “That’s mine now.”

Then he moved.

Slow at first. Deep. Deliberate.

Every stroke like a promise, every snap of his hips a confession.

You met him thrust for thrust, moaning, laughing, gasping,your hand slapping the headboard at one point like it was personally responsible.

“I’m gonna make you scream, Peach.”

“Already did,” you gasped. “Want a replay?”

He smirked. Then pulled out, flipped you over, and pulled you up onto your knees, gripping your hips like handlebars.

“Oh, you’re gonna replay it. Loud as hell.”

And when he slammed into you again, skin on skin, every sound between you echoing through the room,you did.

And then some.

You collapsed face-first into the mattress, hair a disaster, body twitching like you’d just been exorcised. Erik dropped next to you, panting like he’d just escaped prison, one arm lazily thrown across your ass like he was claiming it.

No one spoke.

Mostly because your souls had left your bodies.

Finally, you groaned into the sheets. “...I think I saw my past lives.”

Erik let out a raspy laugh. “One of them definitely owed me money. I think I just fucked the debt out of him.”

You wheezed. Your legs were jelly. Your spine was dust. Your thighs were screaming at you in six different languages.

“Jesus Christ, Erik. What the hell was that? You’ve been holding out on me.”

“I blacked out halfway through,” he muttered. “I woke up mid-thrust like, ‘am I... ascending?’”

You lifted your head an inch. “You bit my shoulder.”

He rolled to look at you. “You told me to shut you up.”

“Not with your teeth, maniac.”

He smirked. “Could’ve fooled me. You were moaning like I was giving you eternal salvation.”

You reached over, smacked his chest. “You were jackhammering my soul into the stratosphere. Of course I was moaning.”

He caught your wrist and kissed it, then kissed your knuckles, and licked your palm.

“Stop it!” you squealed, yanking your hand back. “You’re still in horny mode, I can see it in your eyes.”

He grinned like the devil himself. “Nah. That was round one. This is just cooldown.”

“I need water. And possibly medical attention.”

“You need to ride me again in ten minutes.”

You stared at him. “You’re unwell. You need Jesus and a therapist. And maybe a cold shower.”

He rolled onto his side, chest to your back, pressing a kiss to your shoulder,right where the bite mark was.

“You need to admit you liked that.”

You glared over your shoulder. “I’ll admit it if my legs start working again before sunrise.”

His hand slid down your thigh, slowly.

“Test it,” he whispered.

Your whole body shivered.

You turned to face him, half-laughing, half-horny. “You’re trying to kill me.”

“Peach,” he said, dragging a finger across your hip, “if I wanted to kill you, I’d be nice about it. I’d cuddle you to death. This is just... birthday cardio.”

You snorted. “Do I at least get cake after this?"

He grinned. “You’ll get creamed, if that counts.”

You smacked him with a pillow.

He kissed the top of your head. Soft. Familiar. Dangerous.

Silence settled in for a moment,comfortable, intimate. Too intimate.

That’s when it hit.

Oh no.

You were cuddling.

Post-sex cuddling.

With your best friend.

Who just rearranged your insides.

And called you “my brat” like it was a love language.

Your heart did something stupid.

You glanced up at him. He was already staring at you. Not smirking. Not joking. Just… looking. Quiet. Intense.

You blinked. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, but his voice was too soft, too real.

That silence returned,and this time, it was screaming.

You panicked. Naturally.

“So…” you said, shifting on top of him, trying to diffuse the tension. “Think I’ve got another lap dance in me?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You trying to break me?”

“I’m trying to make sure we don’t accidentally fall in love and start naming our future children, actually.”

He stared at you for a second, lips twitching,then laughed. Hard.

“God, you’re such a disaster,” he said, flipping you over effortlessly. “You think a little post-sex existential crisis is gonna scare me?”

“I don’t know, do feelings give you hives?” you teased, even as your legs wrapped around him again.

“Only when I’m sober,” he muttered, kissing your neck again. “Good thing I’m high as fuck on you.”

You groaned. “That was awful. Say it again.”

He laughed against your skin, voice rough with desire. “Say please.”

“Please,” you whispered, grinding up into him again. “Ruin me, birthday boy.”

And just like that round two began.

Just outside the door, Julia walked past,then paused.

She stared at the closed door, heard the suspicious creaking of a bed frame, and Erik whispering something about “just get back on top for a sec.”

She turned around and walked away like she’d seen something unholy.

“Nope.”

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