#erik campbell x fem!reader

[deniable-masterpiece]

blowing Erik's pierced dick | Erik Campbell x Gender Neutral!Reader

a/n -- just a quick fic I half-assed because I really just like the idea of sucking Erik's pierced dick. I love Richard harmon in grave encounters 2 more than here but still

summary -- A squeamish Reader follows Erik to his tattoo shop after meeting in the bar and gets a surprise that Erik is more than happy to practice on himself... with multiple piercings on his dick.

words -- 2,060

warnings -- oral sex, 18+. oral (erik receiving), facials, dom!Erik, sadist!Erik, face-fucking, deepthroating, throat bulging, objectification, cringe writing

~~~

“This is your place?” You asked as Erik undid the lock to the door. The lights were off, but the streetlight outside illuminated the interior of the store enough that you could see the kind of store that it was—a tattoo parlor. Dull in color as a lot of the store contained shades of silver and black, but all of it looked sharp. Painful.

“Totally.” He wasn’t about to let you know that he both wasn’t the boss and was the boss’ bitch. Not that he was cool with either, but unless the guy died in some freak accident—or Erik felt like killing him, which he really did sometimes—would that change anytime soon. So, as far as you knew, it was his place. Erik went in first and held the door for you to follow behind him.

Walking in, your fear only doubled when he turned on the lights. Everything was bathed in red, neon red, but it felt more like blood. It didn’t help that the store was narrow and made everything give it this uncanny height to it, like it leaned in, scaling the walls to get the jump—or to better put it, the drop—on you. Anything could passively slip off the wall and come down on you, and the varying sizes of skulls only made you think the worst.

“We can’t just go back to your house?” You asked in an uneven tone. 

“Relax, all this stuff here is harmless and sanitized.” Erik sounded annoyed already. Were you really worth all this trouble—was a blowjob from a pretty mouth really worth all of this trouble? Erik made up his mind in the moment and decided that it was. He started giving a genuine explanation but deadpanned some jokes to make you feel a little better in a sadistic kind of way. “Also, I live with my family, and being scared of one of those little shits walking in on us is worse than a little acupuncture. Kidding, everything here is made to puncture. There’s nothing small about it.” 

You walked around the store, trying to calm yourself by touching it. Seeing is believing, and feeling is easing your way into making yourself more comfortable. Your hand kept touching things, and you half-expected Erik to continue his barrage of comments. Don’t touch that, don’t break anything, don’t be scared. You knew the last one was supposed to be comforting, but he had this aloof quality about him that blended with the macabre sense of humor he used on you at the bar down the street. Somehow, it worked, and now you were here. Touching things that you would normally avoid or use a ten-foot pole to nudge away gently, like a knife hanging on the wall. It rested back against a frame of wood and black felt, hanging by the bolsters as two hooks came out from the felt and supported it. The blade had some engravings on it that looked cool, so you reached out to trace them with your finger. The pressure of your finger made the blade wobble, and you flinched back with a noticeable haste. 

Erik picked up on it. “If this isn’t your thing, the door’s right there.”

For a beat, you stood still and processed his words. Then, you walked over to the door, and Erik already had an insult ready to throw at you on your way out. He expected you to leave after his offer, but then he heard the snikt of the deadbolt, and any of his reservations died on his lips. 

“Well?” He asked.

You turned around to face him and nodded, “Let’s do it.”

Erik could sense the nervous energy buzzing around your words, no matter how much you tried to put on a brave face for him. Still, he continued down the usual path and hoped that you would lose the nervousness. He didn’t want someone with a dry mouth to blow him. He skipped over the flowery foreplay and decided to get right into the action, since he didn’t know how you would feel being so close to his septum piercing when just looking at piercing needles made you so nervous. That, and he did actually care for you and figured that getting everything out of the way faster would be better for you. Maybe, if he showed you that there was nothing to be scared of in a place like this, with a guy like him, that it would have you coming back for more in the future. The first piece of metal was undone—the button to his jeans—and then the next part was unzipped.

“It’s just a little metal.” Erik said, pulling out his cock. “Nothing to be scared of.”

You watched in awe as it had enough heft to flop over his open jeans and make the opening of both flaps part wider. Thick and girthy and hanging low. But by the time your eyes got to the bottom—got to the tip of his cock—you noticed the big Prince Albert piercing sticking out from his piss slit. From the front, you could only see the beaded tip, and did a double-take when he turned and you could see the curve of it. 

His thumbs worked around the waistband of his jeans and underwear, pushing them all the way down to his ankles. He stepped out of them but kept his shoes on, knowing how dirty the floor could get and that he didn’t want to step on anything sharp that could fall. Erik wasn’t a wuss, but he didn’t want this to end with a trip to the hospital.

Now, he was just in his shirt and shoes, and you could see all of the tattoos along his legs. 

“Cool, huh?”

“Did you want to take the chair? It can lay flat so we can get into a few different positions. Whatever you want to do.” The images flashed in your mind, and all of the things Erik whispered in your ear that he would do to you at the bar started to feel real. One stuck out in your mind, though: “Your mouth would look so good around my dick, and even better bulging your throat when you lay back and let me fuck you.”

“I’ll take the chair.”

“Sick.” 

The chair was in the middle of the madness—Erik included in the ‘madness’—and now you were in the chair and, by extension, in the middle of it too. But Erik didn’t keep you sitting upright for long, and he pressed a pump somewhere further down on the chair to send it collapsing into a flattened state. Your body went with it, and now, your head nearly hung off the edge of it.

Now that his dick was above you, you could see what had been waiting on the underside, like a beast. Erik had more piercings under his cock, too. A Jacob’s ladder was formed by several bars sticking through the underside of his dick. All about an inch apart, adding up to eight in total. Add an extra inch for the space between the last piercing on his shaft and the tip of his dick, where the giant, beading Prince Albert curled out, and you successfully looked death in the eyes. It was so big, staring back at you. Erik stepped forward, and now, it was staring at the thing it wanted: your mouth. 

You swallowed, less nervous than before. And the smooth, easy swallow reminded you that a hard chunk of metal was about to invade your mouth, followed by the thing you actually wanted. Around all that metal was him, which soothed you about the tooth-chipping silver about to hit your face.

“Open,” he said. One word is all that’s needed to breach the seal. Erik could’ve used the tongs to pull your tongue out and hold it out of the way, but you already know to press it flat and stick it out as far as it can go so he can slide right in. He does, and the overhang of his prince scratches the roof of your mouth. Not exactly hard, but not quite that softly, either. It has a bit of a pinch, but after a few swings of his hips, it feels dull against the roof of your mouth. He didn’t push himself in far enough for his ladder of shaft piercings to enter your mouth yet, but you watched them get close to the first one entering.

They threatened to snag on your lips, but when one finally did push through, it was just a little bump. It didn’t slow his pace; it simply added more texture to it as you tried to keep your lips loose and wet. That part was the easiest because his spit-coated cock spread your own saliva on your face every time he pulled out; it wasn’t anything you had to actively do. The rest of them went in and felt bumpy, but smooth enough to take repeatedly. Even when he found a pace to move at.

When he did bury his cock in you, it went down into your throat and made it bulge out. Erik would occasionally bury his cock deep into your throat, and every time he did, he would moan or utter something under his breath like “Oh, fuck.” Adversely, he would pull himself out completely and smack his slobbered-up cock over your face. The piercings added an extra sting to where they hit, but it didn’t hurt; they just smacked harder than skin. Unseen by your eyes, but caught by Erik’s baby blues, they left a certain redness next to your puffy lips and wet cheeks. 

Erik hid himself again; this time, he didn’t pull out a few seconds later. He pressed his hips into you, grinding it against your face and putting a pressure on you as he went as deep as he could. His hand curled around your throat, previously being used to support him while he face-fucked you. 

“Piercings are cool and all—but fuck.” He moaned, giving your neck a rough squeeze. “This is my favorite accessory.”

Every thrust made your throat bulge, and he could feel it pressing into the middle of his palm. The first thing that pushed into it was smaller—the metal bead of his piercing—and it was immediately followed by his fatter cockhead. He took a little enjoyment in knowing that there was a palpable difference between the two, and it was something that you could surely feel.

It felt like something getting stuck in your throat, whether that be a rogue piece of food that refused to go down without some water or a pill attempting to do the same. That’s when Erik wasn’t using your throat like a fucktoy, but when he was moving, it felt more like the constant scratch of an itch you never knew you had. It felt good—amazing, even, to have the dull head of it rubbing along the inside of your throat. The underside of it did the same for the back of your throat, but to a lesser extent. Not to mention how he already stretched your lips, your mouth, and your throat to fit all of his fat cock. Adding those extra studs made it rocky, but it moved smoothly in your mouth.

So smooth that when Erik pushed his cock down into your throat, then he stuttered and nearly gave into his urges. But, with that slick glide of spit, brought it out past your lips in seconds. His hand flew to his shaft, and a few, meek tugs that barely pushed the skin over his tip caused him to drip out. He didn’t really shoot, per se. It foamed around his piercing, running over it and spilling out over your face in a slow stream. What didn’t glob up and drip down onto your face ran down his length. 

He shuddered the whole time, weak and letting out deep whimpers. 

After milking himself until all of the cum seeped out and wiped it over your face, he stepped back and reached for something. He returned into your view with a few paper towels in his hand, throwing them down on your face. He deadpanned again, “Clean yourself up, slut.”

[artsyfemale-writing]

I assume cause you liked my post about Erik that you write for him? Maybe something about cuddling while he plays mortal kombat. Just fluffy and soft. If you want! No pressure boo

Authors Note: I of course will write a cute fluffy and soft short for Erik. First request I love the idea. Thank you for your request. I hope everyone enjoys. I did my best having only watched the movie once, so I hope it's alright.

Cuddles and Kombat

Type: Fluff

Warning: Cussing, Erik being Erik, Erik slightly being ooc (I've only seen the movie once going off how I believe he would act planning on buying the movie for future posts)

Original Work DO NOT COPY

Narrator's Perspective

It was a normal day in the Campbell household, Y/n had been helping Mrs. Campbell prepare lunch for the family, while Erik was playing video games as he had nothing better to do at the moment due to his girlfriend being busy helping his mother. Y/n had flour on her hands when Bobby frantically came into the kitchen asking multiple times if anyone has seen Paco, Y/n cleans her hands, and helps look for Paco with Bobby.

 Bobby goes into the living room where Erik is laying on the couch playing a ranked game of Mortal Kombat telling Bobby to calm down, and that we’d find Paco but Bobby started pushing Erik to look under the pillows. Erik was getting irritated saying “I can’t pause alright, it’s an online matc… are you serious right now” Bobby was persistent, and Erik once again says “Can you do me a kindness, fuck off” 

Then Charlie walks in seeing Y/n, and goes to hug her, she smiles, hugging back when she notices Paco curled up by her bag, she giggles going to grab him.

Y/n’s Perspective

I noticed Paco near my bag, and I picked him up and started to baby talk to him “There you are Paco, you almost gave Bobby a heart attack” I smile, then Stefani walks in shocking her. I hand Paco over to Bobby, when Charlie starts chuckling saying “Oh, dude she's flunking out of school” I head back to the living room where Erik stands up saying “Hey, welcome to the club” with a teasing smile. I roll my eyes, and kiss Eriks cheek which makes him melt, and look like a love sick puppy. 

I ruffle Charlie's hair, and head back to the kitchen. “Here Brenda let me help with that” I offer my help once again, setting the table when Erik walks in with a golf club, I let out a small snort as he looked so cute with his messy hair. We all settled down to eat lunch. I sat next to Erik as normal. The meal was very lively as everyone was chatting, and having their own conversations. I however noticed that Stefani seemed out of place. Not that I blame her because she hadn’t been around much due to school. I started to include Stef in conversations until everyone had finished eating, I offered to help with dishes, and cleaning up.

 However Brenda waved me off letting me know that I could go relax, and that she appreciated my help. I nodded with a smile, and pulled Erik into the living room again, “Oh, feeling risky are we Peach~” Erik teased with that smirk he had when he wanted to tease, and see me blush.

Erik’s Perspective

Y/n pulled me into the living room, and I decided to tease her a little bit since it was just us in the room. I grab my Xbox controller, and lay on the couch opening my arms for Y/n wanting to just relax with her. I notice her beautiful e/c eyes soften, and relax. She finally curls up into my chest. I started a new match resting the controller on the small of her hip while I played, wanting to get my rank back up after Bobby rudely interrupted me earlier. I notice Y/ns breathing started to even out as she slowly fell asleep, I glance down, and smile kissing the crown of her head when Julia walks by heading upstairs to her room but not before saying “You are so whipped for her Kiki”

I was going to deny it, but it was true. I loved the beautiful girl who is sleeping on my chest, she was with me for who I am.

Time Skip: Y/n’s Perspective

You slowly open your eyes, and notice that Erik had fallen asleep probably after a few matches of his game. You smile, moving some hair out of his eyes, and I turn off the console, setting the controller onto the coffee table, and turning the TV off, grabbing a throw blanket, and pulling it over us. I curl into his chest again. When he groans softly, I kiss his cheek. “Sorry to wake you Kiki, was just turning the TV off” Erik doesn’t respond, and he just pulls me closer and slightly opens his eyes when he says “Don’t apologize I like being woken up to you curled into me” he teased in a groggy voice, and I giggle giving him a small peck on his lips feeling his stubble tickle my face. I smile when Erik deepens the kiss as he cups my left cheek with his hand as I place mine on his chest. Just then Charlie throws a pillow saying “Get a room there are children here” Erik glares due to the pillow hitting me and I get out of his hold and start a pillow fight with Charlie, chasing him through the house when he admits defeat and we all laugh.

Erik’s Perspective

After watching Y/n beat Charlie with a pillow, I walk behind her wrapping my arms around her waist kissing her neck softly, I throw her over my shoulder as she squeaks, and I carry her back to the living room so we can cuddle without interruptions. Halfway through the hall I feel a sharp smack on my ass. I hear a giggle, and the words “What!? You have a nice ass Kiki” I roll my eyes at her words, and I toss her onto the couch. I lay my head on her chest, she runs her fingers through my hair and in that moment I knew. Nothing could take this girl from me, I knew I was in love with Y/n, and I know I never want to let her go, she's my rock, she gets me, makes me happy too. 

I look up at Y/n and she smiles at me, that beautiful smile I get to see all the time. I kiss her again wanting to know I’m not dreaming because if I am I don’t wanna wake up. I wanna stay here, in this moment with her.

Y/n’s Perspective

You smile into the kiss with Erik, when he pulls away he looks at me with those soft bluish grey eyes that I love so much. “I love you Kiki” I say with a soft smile and Erik responds with a muffled “And I love you Peach” I kiss his hairline when I notice him reaching for his controller again and I laugh, “Can’t get a break from Mortal Kombat?” I tease. Erik just says, “Gotta rank up Peach, and besides I have you as my lucky charm” a slight pink color dusts my cheeks at his words. Erik turns around laying against me as I continue to play with his hair while I watch him win more matches of Mortal Kombat. While watching Erik with each match I absentmindedly start making small braids in his hair. Every so often I would take the braids out just to run my fingers through his hair again. When randomly I feel something crawling onto my shoulder, and I hear Bobby once again asking if anyone has seen Paco. I glance at my shoulder, and it’s Paco when he sits in the nook of my shoulder and neck, seemingly going to sleep. Bobby comes in asking and I just point to my shoulder, and Bobby leaves knowing Paco is in good hands.

Narrator’s Perspective

The day continues with Erik on Y/n while playing Mortal Kombat and Paco curled up on her shoulder. Erik wins more rounds ranking up like he wanted. When it starts getting dark Y/n gives Paco to Bobby, and Erik takes Y/n to his room where they listen to the playlist Erik made for her, and she changes into one of Erik’s shirts and shorts. While Erik changes into some black sweatpants and lays in his bed shirtless, they both get under the covers with a different playlist playing in the background as they were both just content in each other's presence. Erik holds Y/n as she traces his tattoos as he rubs her back and plays with her hair. Soon they both slowly start to doze off to sleep in a loving embrace clueless to the world around them. Little did they both know there were bets being made about when Erik would propose, everyone already knows that Y/n is the best thing that has happened to Erik, they all want them both to be happy. Clearly, they were made for each other, and that their love will last for a long time.

Author's Note: Hey guys it's been some time since I posted I'm still new on here, I will try and get some more stuff posted tomorrow as I have the day off, and I enjoy writing. Let me know what you guys thought of this. I would love to hear tips to help me improve.

[vanillahrts]

why don’t yall go head and send final destination bloodlines request 🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️ ( let’s make some of them horror related to 💔 ) BUT SEND WHATEVERRR

[babybluebex]

drink the honey | erik campbell x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: in visiting your friends' bar, you happen to meet his older brother, aka the guy who pierced your ears forever ago. cue a lesson in grief and exactly what can be pierced and where, as well as a night you won't soon be forgetting. wc 9.7k (i am. so sorry.) title stolen from closer by nine inch nails. 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: erik campbell (final destination: bloodlines, 2025) x fem!reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: semi-canon compliance (howard has gone to his great reward, the shop fire happened, but none of the death hitlist stuff), drinking, one single mention of jerry fuckin fenbury, mild descriptions of burn injuries/scars, lots of innuendos, smut (minors dni)(holy shit there's a lot here, bear with me yall): p in v, creampie city baby (but then mention of intention to use morning-after pill), oral (f!receiving), genital piercings (like... we all watched the same movie, we know what's going down), lots of teasing, hittin it from the back + spanking (i know yall saw what he did to that garbage truck), biting/hickies, one tiny quick slap to a cheek, panty thief erik, look-in-the-mirror type shenanigans, light choking, halfway decent aftercare considering the circumstances, nicknames such as: sweetheart, baby, babygirl, princess/prince 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: soooo like after a year-long writing hiatus, i am back. it's been. a lot. and as far as this fic goes, i cannot explain myself, i knew i needed erik carnally even before the garbage truck thing so like. idk, dick piercing goes brrrr. anyway. follow @babybluebex-writes to be notified whenever i post a new fic!

You had only seen him once before. He had been the guy at the sketchy tattoo shop downtown that had done your second lobe piercings, and he was totally fine. It hardly hurt, probably because he was able to distract you long enough for the needle to pierce your skin by getting you talking about your own job, and he was pretty good about reminding you how to clean the piercings and everything. You didn’t exactly remember his name— something with an E, or an A? It was a little while ago, and you had been a walk-in— but you acutely remember his big, blue eyes and the stink of cigarettes that lingered on the leather jacket he wore while piercing you. That, actually, was the same jacket he was wearing right now, sitting directly across the bar from you. 

He was by himself, bottle of Hice in hand, seemingly off in his own world as he gazed at the bartop. Every so often, every time the cute blond bartender passed by him, he would lift his head and give him a curt nod or a flick of his eyebrows, but he didn’t talk to anyone else or look in any one direction other than down. You were totally intrigued by him, even though he was not your usual type— as your friend beside you had joked as you walked into the bar earlier that night, maybe your “boyfriend” would be working, AKA Bobby, the cute blond bartender. Bobby was an absolute sweetheart, greeting you with a grin and asking how your night was every single time you came in, but he was a sweetie with everyone that walked into the bar, so, even though it wasn’t necessarily special treatment, it made you like him a whole lot. 

Speaking of your friend… You looked one way and the other, trying to catch sight of her, and you frowned mildly as you tugged your phone from your purse. Just as you suspected, she had texted you about ten minutes before, telling you that she had absconded to go smoke, which was code for “I’m going on an adventure and it’ll be your job in two hours to track me down and get me back home”. You sighed, clicking off your phone screen, and sucked down the last of your liquor from your plastic cup. 

“Lookin’ pretty glum there, friend,” a voice said, and you gazed up to see Bobby. There was a relative lull in the crowd, although the rap music playing over the speakers still shook the walls, and Bobby’s kind smile softened you. “What’s got you down?” 

“Ah, shit,” you chuckled. “Not sad or anything. Just tired.” 

“Tired?” Bobby repeated. “You want a vodka Redbull?”

You shook your head. “Just a long day at work,” you informed him. “Didn’t really even wanna come out, but Anna convinced me, and then immediately…” You trailed off, gesturing around you and the obvious lack of Anna. Even though you had never seen Bobby outside the bar, you had been going for years and knew him well, and Bobby had a good memory of the regulars, so he nodded, familiar with Anna’s disappearing act. “Probably one more of these, then close up my tab.” 

“You got it,” Bobby said. “Single or double?” 

You twisted your mouth as you thought about it. Obviously, you wanted a double, but a single would probably be better for you and your poor wallet. Bobby tilted his head towards you with a smile, almost as if to say C’mon, you know you wanna, and you sighed. “Just a single,” you told him. 

“Heard,” Bobby nodded. As he made your drink, you watched him walk to the opposite end of the bar and sharply say something to the brooding piercer, and he looked up from the bartop again to say something equally sharp back at him. A weary smile passed over his face, and he pulled at the glass bottle of beer. 

“Hey, so,” you started as Bobby handed you your cup. “Who’s that at the end you keep talking to?” 

Bobby scoffed. “Who’s asking?” he started, popping a small black cocktail straw in your drink. 

“He pierced my seconds for me a few months ago,” you explained. “Was thinking about getting my nose done, and wanted to go back to him, but I couldn’t remember his name.” A total lie; you liked your nose the way it was, with the appropriate number of holes. You just wanted to know more about him; he had a pull, like a magnet, and you needed more. 

“You let that motherfucker stick needles in you?” Bobby chuckled. “And you want more? Ill-advised.” 

“Okay, well, who is he?” you asked, a flash of fear running cold down your body. 

“Erik,” Bobby said, and your brain flashed with recognition. Erik; that’s right. Something with an E. 

“And it’s bad that Erik pierced my ears because…?” you asked. “Did he, like, get his license taken away or something?” 

“No, no,” Bobby sighed. “Ah, I shouldn’t talk shit about him. He’s my older brother, though, I can’t help it. Genetically predisposed to give him hell… Maybe not genetically, but y’know, half-genetically, or whatever…” 

Oh. Throughout the years, you could recall Bobby making passing mentions of his siblings— his older sister graduating college last year, his older brother flunking out of college prior to you ever meeting Bobby, his sister being “back in town”, his brother “traveling for work”, yada yada yada. “This the same brother that flunked outta college?” you asked, and Bobby laughed loudly. 

“Yes!” he wheezed. “Yep, that’s him! Fuck, how do you remember that?” 

“Because I’m a nice person, Bobby!” you smiled. “I remember things that people tell me!” 

“Shit, that’s funny,” Bobby said. “Yeah, one and the same. Went for one semester, decided he didn’t like it, grades went downhill, dropped out before they could boot him out… Probably for the best, honestly, he never really was into the whole ‘establishment’ thing. Think he only ever went there to get our mom off his back.” 

“Dad didn’t care?” you started, and a twinge flashed over Bobby’s face. 

“Well,” he started. “Not necessarily, but y’know… But Dad passed away about a year ago. It sorta sucked for all of us, obviously, and that’s when Ma got intense about… Well, everything. But he had been out of college for… Shit, more than ten years, and when Dad died, Erik just… I don’t know, he had a break or something. You find out, in the wake of your dad’s death, that your dad isn’t actually your dad and that your mom’s friend is actually your dad, and that fucks with you, so I get it, but he got super withdrawn from all of us after that. I mean, shit, this is the first time I’ve seen him in months.” 

“Wow,” you sighed. “That’s… Um…” 

“Sorry,” Bobby said, clearing his throat. “Airing out my half-brother’s dirty laundry, I shouldn’t have… I just worry about him, y’know? He’s my big bro. He used to be so… He lit up whatever room he walked into. He’d come over to grill for family barbecues and to play video games and just to, like, hang out, but ever since that fiasco last year, he’s just… Tattoo shop, his apartment, over and over. Getting him to even stop by tonight was like pulling teeth. Truly, I think he needs a girlfriend. Boyfriend. Cat. Whatever. Something to get him out of his head.”

The man across the bar certainly did not fit the shining description that Bobby gave of the old Erik. By now, he had his phone in his hand, lighting up his face, and the light glinted off a large silver ring hanging from his nose. You remembered the same jewelry from when you met him, and you absentmindedly tugged on your earlobe. “Well, shit,” you said finally. “First of all, sorry for all of that. My dad isn’t really in my life, so I can’t sympathize exactly, but… Y’know. Still sucks. I’m sorry about that. And additionally… Jesus Christ, Bobby, you need to learn to keep your mouth shut!” 

Bobby smiled. “You wanted to close your tab, right?” he asked, and you nodded. “Sure thing.” 

You handed Bobby your card, and your gaze drifted to Erik one more. Still on his phone, but now with furrowed eyebrows, concentrating on something. The POS system was right next to where Erik sat, and you watched Bobby say something to his brother as he ran your card. You couldn’t read lips, so you were at a loss as to the conversation, but you watched Erik roll his eyes and swig at his beer, saying something in response to Bobby. Bobby froze up for a single second, then said something that you could obviously tell was “Really?”, and Erik nodded. Bobby seemed like he was malfunctioning, still for a moment, then turning back to the computer, then back to Erik once more, repeating “Really?”

Erik was obviously annoyed, cocking his head towards his little brother, and he went into the pocket of his leather jacket, extracting his wallet and passing his card to Bobby. Bobby pushed your own card into his empty hand and poked at the computer for a moment, and he ran Erik’s card through the computer. In a second, the POS churned out a receipt, and Bobby shoved it towards his brother as he turned back towards you and came your way. “Um,” Bobby started, a red flush hitting his cheeks. “So, Erik picked up your tab for you.” 

“Huh?” you asked as Bobby slid you your card back. “Why?” 

“Couldn’t tell you,” Bobby shrugged. “Maybe he thinks you’re my friend or something… Well, I mean, you are, kinda, we’re friendly…”

“Or maybe,” you started. “He’s getting a move-on with that ‘girlfriend’ thing you mentioned.” 

“I don’t know about that,” Bobby mumbled. 

“Or, and consider this,” you began, sliding your card back into your purse and grabbing your drink as you edged yourself off the barstool. “I’m a pretty girl who just gets drinks bought for her from time to time.” 

“I mean, obviously,” Bobby said with a smile. “It’s just never my brother doing the buying.”

Erik looked up from his phone as you approached him, and your heart slammed up against your ribcage with anxiety. His hair, all shaggy and a little too long, hung in his eyes, and a careful smile touched at his mouth. “Saw you talking to Bobby,” he said. He shifted slightly, opening his body towards you and not solely at the bar, and you saw Bobby give a sort-of pained smile, almost a “What the fuck?!” type of face. “Figured you were one of his little girlfriends or something.” 

“No, not me,” you said. “I’m just a regular, nothing more.” 

“Ah, well,” Erik shrugged. “Bobby can use as many friends as he can get.” He cast a look at his brother, who swiftly threw up a double bird, and Erik rolled his eyes. “So, does my baby brother’s regular friend have a name?” 

“Yes,” you said, and a smile came across his face when you told him your name. He repeated it back to you, gentle and sweet, like he was committing it to memory. You liked the way he said your name, and the closer proximity allowed you to see his pink mouth, the skin of his lips a little dry and bitten. 

“That’s pretty,” he told you. “I’m Erik, if Bobby didn’t already tell you.” 

“I already knew,” you told him. A flash of confusion wiped across his face, and you put a hand up to your ear, almost as if you were showing them off. “You did my seconds a little while ago.” 

“Oh!” Erik laughed. “Well, shit, I did, didn’t I? I remember you now; I knew I’d seen your pretty face before.”

“God,” you chuckled. “Are you always such a flirt?”

“Not always,” Erik said. “Only when it can make my baby brother uncomfortable.” He gestured towards Bobby with the end of his beer bottle, and Bobby gave him another “What the fuck?” type look before rolling his eyes and going to serve other people at the bar, away from you and Erik. 

“Well, you’re certainly brothers, based on attitude alone,” you said, and watched as Erik hooked the toe of his boot in the barstool opposite him and tugged it out, giving you a place to sit. 

“What, the blindingly good looks didn’t give it away first?” Erik asked. 

“You two look nothing alike,” you told him. After a momentary beat, you added, “I like your look better than his.” 

“Oh yeah?” Erik asked. “You into the brooding, mysterious types?” 

You shrugged. “I could be,” you said. “I think it’s the whole, like, ‘tortured artist’ thing you’ve got going on.”

“So, that answer is yes, the brooding and mysterious type,” Erik nodded. “Tortured artists are, in my experience, inherently brooding and mysterious. Can’t claim the title if you aren’t.” 

“Damn, today I learned,” you replied, and Erik gave a little laugh. You examined his face as he looked to the side, towards Bobby, to flag him down for another beer; soft skin, a little pale with a rosy flush, rough facial hair that showed a little ginger in the blue neon signage behind the bar, with thick, dark eyelashes around his almond eyes, piercing blue. A silver ring inside his nose, to match the ones in his ears; it looked like a thicker metal than you thought piercings typically were. “So, here, you can teach me something else. How did you get your nose ring in?” 

“Like, how you pierce a septum?” Erik asked. 

“No, like, that’s way… I don’t know…” you started, already regretting the question, knowing your next choice of words. “Way bigger and thicker than my earrings. How?” Your face burned hot at having to look him in the eyes and say the phrase “big and thick” to him, but he either didn’t catch the unintentional innuendo or actively chose not to acknowledge it. 

“Oh, I see,” Erik nodded. “Yeah, so, it’s a little complicated, a lot of terminology and shit, but the short of it is that you gotta stretch it out. Like, it wasn’t this big when I first did it, I’ve had to size up the hole over the years so I could get bigger and thicker things in there.” 

You bit your bottom lip to hold in your laughter, and Erik scoffed. “Okay, that was too much eye contact on my part for saying all of that, that’s my bad,” he said and shook his head. “I could have said that way differently.” 

“I-It’s fine,” you told him. He exchanged the empty bottle for another one from his brother, and Bobby passed him the bent-up bottle cap, which he put into an inside pocket of his jacket. “I mean, I started it.” 

“That you did,” Erik said. “But, yeah, it’s a whole thing, sizing up, it takes a while.” 

“Neat,” you said. “I don’t know too much about, like, tattoos or piercings or whatever, that’s not really my style.”

“Well, I’m an open book,” Erik shrugged. “You got questions, I’ve got answers. And I won’t even charge ya for it.” He gave you a playful wink, and the heat returned to your face. 

“Cool,” you nodded. “Do you have any tattoos?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Erik nodded quickly. “Got more ink than skin at this point, I’m pretty sure.” With that, he shrugged off his jacket, leaving him in just the black t-shirt for some band that you didn’t know, with that weird scratchy font that metal bands usually used. You could hardly focus on the t-shirt, though; all along his now-exposed arms, he had different pieces of artwork, all varying sizes, some colorful and some not, none of them remotely similar. You felt your eyes widen as Erik held out his arms to you, and you examined the spiderwebs, serpents, and roses that he had embedded in his skin forever. “You can touch ‘em, if you want,” he offered, then winced. “I promise I’m not trying to say everything as obscenely as possible.”

“It’s fine,” you smiled. Gently, as if you were worried you’d hurt him, you brushed your fingers along the large spiderweb that encompassed the majority of his lower right arm. “I mean, it’s just skin. Skin is skin, ink or not.” 

“I know,” Erik said. “But that’s a sorta cheat code with people like me— let the cute girl touch your tattoos and she might give you her number. A high success rate, you’d be surprised.”

You gently turned his arm over to get a look at the softer, paler skin on the inside of his arm, and you sighed. In large script, the word DAD was inked in, along with a pale scar in the shape of a heart towards the end. “Oh,” Erik started. “So, the heart was, um, sorta an accident. Not sorta, it was an accident, but, like, I don’t know, it’s a long story. The night after my father died, I was closing up shop by myself, and some freak fire got started. Through a series of unfortunate events, I ended up on the floor, but a jewelry case had busted in the fire and I didn’t realize it, and my arm—” He made an exaggerated splat noise that made you giggle despite the horror of the story. “Landed straight on top of it. Worst pain I’ve ever been in that I didn’t enjoy.”

“Wow,” you mumbled. “I’m glad you’re alright… I remember last year, hearing from some friends that there was a fire there, but… And I’m sorry ‘bout your dad.” You only added the last part to try to banish the thoughts that his last remark had ignited, but he did nothing to mitigate it. 

“Yeah, it’s coming up on a full year,” Erik said. “And I was thinking about it recently, and I’m tired of… I don’t know. When he died, I felt like I lost a part of myself. I mean, he’s my dad, y’know, I kinda did lose a part of myself. But one day a few weeks ago, I looked down at the tat and the burn scar, and saw that everything had healed up as nice as possible, like nothing bad happened at all, and I figured that it was Pops, taking care of me one last time. I realized I was tired of being a sad little recluse, especially if he was going to make sure I was okay.”

There’s the explanation that Bobby was looking for on why Erik changed. And, it seemed, like the old Erik was starting to rise from the grave. “That’s a nice thought,” you told him. You let go of his arm and cleared your throat, going after a sip of your drink, and you added, “Do you have any more?” 

“Thoughts?” Erik joked, and you smiled. 

“No, tattoos,” you told him. “I’m assuming it’s not just your arms.”

“Oh,” Erik said, shaking his head. “Nah, got ‘em all over. You can sorta see this one…” He hooked a finger in the collar of his shirt and tugged slightly, showing off the corner of what looked vaguely like a bird’s wing— “And my stomach piece, and the bullshit on my sides… And more.”

You could tell he was fishing for you to ask what “more” meant, and you gave him a soft smile. You could read his energy as easily as a book, and the words that his soul and body gave to you were telling you some things that you’d rather hear his voice say and his lips move around. “More?” you repeated. His hands weren’t all full of ink, and you carefully let your finger trace the lines of his palm as you lowered your voice as quiet as you could. “My, my, Erik. That almost sounds like an invitation.” 

The hand of his that you weren’t tracing touched your knee, moving slowly to give you time to retreat if you wanted to. “An invitation to do what, exactly?” he asked, and you slotted your bottom lip between your teeth. “Oh, don’t you go getting shy on me now, baby. You’re almost there. All you gotta do is ask.” 

A shiver ran down your back at the sweet little name he bestowed upon you, and you battled it with venom. “What if I don’t wanna ask?” you countered. “What if I’m content just looking at the tattoos on your arms, and have no interest whatsoever at seeing what’s under— and inside— your pants?” 

Erik laughed the way that only incredibly hot guys could get away with, his lip between his teeth as his laughter rumbled low in his chest. “Who said anything about getting in my pants?” he asked. Moving slowly, once again giving you time to move if you so wanted, he got up from the stool he was sat on, instead leaning up on the bar on his elbow. He was taller standing than sitting, and having to look just so slightly upward made your mouth run dry. He wasn’t a big guy, but definitely not some twig, but the energy radiating from his chest made you feel so tiny in comparison. You didn’t hate it, though. Now, as close as you were, you could smell the mentholated smoke on him, and it made you dizzy. What the fuck was wrong with you? You had never been so unashamedly turned on by someone before. 

“I did,” you said boldly. 

“Now, that’s mixed signals,” Erik chuckled. “You don’t wanna see the tattoos or piercings I’ve got under my jeans, and yet you wanna get inside ‘em?”

You paused, replaying what he said in your head as your eyes widened, and quietly replied, “Piercings?” 

He smiled slow, biting the edge of his lip, looking like the cat who ate the canary. “It’s like I told you, babygirl,” he said. “All you gotta do is ask.”

He took a half-step closer to you, his hand landing on your waist, and he angled his head down so that his mouth was right next to your ear. To an innocent passerby, it could have looked like he was just talking to you so he wouldn’t have to shout over the music, but the words that spilled from his lips were anything but innocent: “If you knew how fucking hard I was right now, you wouldn’t be wasting any more time out here. You’d take me into the bathroom and lock the door, and you’d open your legs and let me stretch your pussy open and do whatever I want to you. Right?” You nodded quickly, your own hand reaching out and hooking a finger in his belt loop to draw him closer. His tongue slowly wet his bottom lip as he took in your reaction, and he added, “And I bet you’d just love to be split open on my cock, wouldn’t you? Take me in your mouth, in your sopping wet little cunt. I bet you’re such a slut that you’d let me… Nah, you wouldn’t let me, you would beg me… To cum inside you, breed that filthy little cunt of yours until you’re absolutely full of me.”

You nodded quickly and grunted out a meek “Mhm.” 

“You ever had a pierced cock before, baby?” Erik asked softly, almost turning sweet for a moment. But you knew it wasn’t sweetness; it was condescension, he was making fun of how mild-mannered you had turned. It only made the fire under your dress burn hotter. If he could have bent you over that bar that very second, you would have let him. But then his words sank into your skin— Sank maybe isn’t the right word. It hit you like a truck, slammed under your skin like all the ink on his body, needled in with a satisfied pain. Did he say pierced? 

“N-No,” you stammered. “I didn’t even know you could… That anyone would wanna…” 

“Oh, yeah,” he nodded. “You wanna know a secret?” You looked at him with widened eyes, nodding, and his big blues softened at your doe-in-headlights look. “Only just got it last year. You’ll be the first to know what it feels like.” 

“Oh my God,” you gasped. “I’m flattered.” 

“How ‘bout you go check out that bathroom?” he asked, and you nodded again. Your head was spinning at the notion, and Erik’s eyebrows creased for a moment. “If you don’t, that’s alright. Let me know if I’m coming on too strong, I can back off or fuck off completely, if you want.” 

“I like my men strong,” you told him, and you did. Forthright, assertive, commandeering; he was ticking all your boxes. “I was just thinking about it.”

“About what?” Erik asked. “I need words, sweetheart. I can’t do what you don’t tell me about. I’ll do anything for you. Just ask.” 

You cast your gaze to the side, to your forgotten drink and his beer, and you whispered, “How many of those have you had?” 

“That’s only my second one,” Erik told you. “I’m not drunk. Not even a little bit. And you?” 

“Just the one,” you said. “And this has been collecting melted ice since I came over. But you know that, you paid for them.” 

“Fuck, am I glad I did,” Erik smiled. “I wasn’t sure how else to get your attention. You were having such a good conversation with Bobby, I was almost worried the wrong Campbell brother might get a hold of you.” 

“Easy, tiger,” you told him. “You don’t have a hold of me yet.” 

Erik nodded slowly, the hand on your waist carefully sliding upwards to flatten against the small of your back, his pinkie edging oh-so-slightly under the waistband of your skirt. “M’getting there,” he told you. “I like to take my time, y’know?” 

“Slow and steady?” you asked. 

“Something like that,” Erik replied. Then, gently, a shift to a much softer side, he nestled his lips into your neck, just below your ear, and he gave it a gentle kiss. “Go to the bathroom, get all nice and ready for me while I finish up here. Can you do that, sweetheart?” 

You nodded. “Don’t keep me waiting too long,” you told him, squeezing his arm. 

In turn, his hand abandoned your leg and snatched your wrist. His grip wasn’t painfully tight, just enough to let you know that he meant business, and he said, “If I walk in there and catch you touching yourself, you’re gonna be in huge trouble. Okay? None of that shit, I’m the only one who makes you cum tonight.” Your eyes stuck on his mouth as he talked, the way his pink lips pulled and puckered as he talked, and that dizzy, hypnotized feeling came back. You wanted to kiss him, taste his mouth and tongue and feel his pretty lips against yours, but you were nearly certain that a quick fuck in the bathroom of a bar wasn’t exactly a “kiss” sort of situation. 

Luckily, Erik read your mind. His own eyes flicked down to look at your mouth, and he sighed softly. “Lemme…” he whispered, and he surged into you, pressing his lips to yours for just long enough for you to get a head full of his scent. If he had stayed put for one second more, you would have kissed him back (again, if he decided to spread you open on that bar right then and there, you would have let him without question, so a simple kiss felt relatively lowkey), and, as he pulled away, you felt like it was a painful parting. “Just wanted a little taste,” he told you, swiping his thumb along the corner of his bottom lip. “God, if your pussy tastes half as good as your mouth, I might have to really pick my battles ‘bout what I want to do to you.” 

As you departed towards the restroom, Erik sent a quick swat to your ass, and you bit your lip as you smiled at him. The restroom was towards the back, down a corridor about halfway until the room with the sign on the door, and you slowly opened it, expecting the resistance of someone in there shouting, but nothing came. A single-room situation, the counter for the sink painted shitty black with stickers for local bands and Sharpie graffiti littering the walls, and, thankfully, a functioning lock. You set your purse on the hook on the door, tugging out your phone to make sure Anna hadn’t texted you back, and you frowned at a new message from her. r u ok?? She had asked, sent less than 20 minutes ago. u haven’t come and found me and begged to go home yet!! :P

You quickly pecked out a message that was light on details, a simple got to talking to a friend, i’ll be done soon, and you turned towards the mirror, swiping at your lips with your finger to tidy up your lipstick. Erik didn’t seem all too concerned with the state of your makeup, but you still wanted it to look nice, and your concentration on cleaning up lipstick made you jump in shock when the doorknob to the bathroom started to jostle. You took a deep, steadying breath— you had never hooked up with a stranger in the bathroom before, and your chest felt full of nervous energy— and flipped the lock back on the door, then turned back to the mirror, trying to act unaffected and nonchalant. 

Erik was quiet as a ghost as he entered, deliberately shutting the door behind him and locking it once more, and he came to stand behind you, looking in the cracked and dirty mirror as well. You could trace his eyeline, though, and he was only looking at you as he moved his arms to brace against the counter, trapping you against his chest. He seemed almost contemplative as he tilted his head, shifting his eyeline to your neck and the sliver of shoulder coming out of the collar, and he pressed his mouth to your bit of shoulder. He left soft, slow kisses on your skin, traveling up to your neck, then pressing another kiss below your ear. “Did you do what I asked?” he whispered in your ear. “Got yourself ready for me?” 

“Not yet,” you admitted. “Was sorta hopin’ you’d do it for me.”

Quick as a flash, one of his hands was up off the counter, slithering around down your front to go up your skirt. His thick bicep pressed up against your body, pulling you closer into him, and you hummed with satisfaction as his big hand roughly cupped your pussy. He hadn’t done anything yet, hardly even touched you, really, but you were already wet, dampening your panties. “Fuck,” he groaned, pressing his cheek into your neck. “I can feel you, sweetheart, you’re soaked. Surely that can’t all be for me.” 

“Who else would it be for?” you asked, and a wicked smile crossed his face. 

Erik moved with confidence, like he had done it a thousand times, his fingers stroking the wetness of your panties with rough pressure, almost like he was threatening to penetrate you through the thin fabric. You realized he seemed to be mapping you out, memorizing the way you felt, and his fingers moved upwards just a bit to grind against your throbbing clit. A choked moan involuntarily left your lips, and he carefully nibbled at your soft neck. You had a feeling that he would have sank his teeth in if you would let him, and you hated to admit that you would have. Something about him made you feel dangerous for even knowing his name, and your blood felt like fire in your veins. 

“You want ‘em?” Erik asked.

You panted, pressing your ass back into him like some pathetic bitch in heat, and your heart skipped a beat at the feeling of him right against your ass, stiff inside his pants. You felt like you could have drooled as Erik laughed, rumbling low in his chest, and your voice came out as a high-pitched whine: “Want your cock, Erik, please!” 

“Oh, yeah?” he asked. “No prep, nothing? You like it when it hurts, huh? Fuck, what a woman…” He bit his bottom lip as he smiled and shook his head, seemingly impressed with you, and, as fast as lightning, his hand cracked against your ass, palm open, echoing around the tin bathroom. The sting and flame of pain made the headrush increase tenfold, and the burn of tears pricked at your eyes. You loved it, though. The dudes you fucked before were pretty easy and vanilla, and even though this wasn’t exactly the kinkiest hook-up to ever take place, even just spanking you was the most wild thing a guy had ever done. Something told you, though, that spanking and hitting it from the back (also something new for you) were part and parcel of Erik’s routine. 

His hand bunched up in the fabric of your panties, pulling it tight for just a moment, before inching it down your legs. He greedily took in the sight through the mirror as you dug your fingernails into your palms, and his free hand moved to grasp your chin, making you look in the mirror with him. “You see that?” he whispered, capturing the soft flesh of your ear in his teeth. You nodded quickly, whimpering, and the quietest growl purred at his throat. “What do you see? Tell me.” 

“I-I see…” you started, and you shuffled a bit to get your panties off completely. Erik balled them up in his fist and slipped them into the front pocket of his jeans, and your whole body pulsed and throbbed. “Am I gettin’ those back?” 

“Debatable,” Erik said swiftly, and he let go of your jaw to land a not-exactly gentle hit on your cheek before grabbing your face once more. “Eyes on the prize, sweetheart, tell me what you’re lookin’ at.”

“You,” you choked out. 

“Oh yeah?” he mused. “What am I doing?” 

The skin-to-skin contact of his rough fingers with your clit made you think you would cum from that alone. His middle fingers circled your bud, putting the perfect amount of pressure to have your legs shake, and you keened high in your throat, squirming to press your back fully against his front. You could feel his heartbeat against your shoulder blade, dampened through your clothes but still quick, fast— he was excited, nervous, on-the-edge-of-his-seat, like you, and then you remembered the secret he had told you. He had never had sex with his piercing before. He was probably as wigged out of his mind about it as you were. “Touchin’ me,” you gasped. “Touching my clit, making me feel so good.” 

“Good girl,” he whispered. His hand on your jaw slunk down, repositioning to grip your throat, and you watched his face tense as he faltered. “If I do something you don’t like, please tell me. Don’t be quiet just ‘cause I like it, okay? I wanna get my rocks off, sure, but, at the end of the day, I’m only satisfied if you are. So, if I’m too rough or say something weird or you wanna do something else, just say the word and I’ll do it.” 

“You’re okay,” you assured him. “I’ve, umm… Never done anything like this before.”

His hands jumped away from your body like your skin had burned him. “Like what?” he asked. “‘Like this’, what is ‘this’?” 

The ceasing of his rubbings on your clit made you sigh, and the shaking in your legs got worse. “The-the slapping,” you started, but a genuine laugh bubbled from your chest. “Looking in the mirror, choking, all of that, it’s new for me.” 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I-I just assumed, that’s totally on me.”

“I never told you to stop,” you offered lightly, raising your eyes to look at him in the mirror. “I never said I didn’t like it. I mean, if you hadn’t stopped rubbing my clit, I probably would’ve cum.” 

Those big blue eyes of his blinked once with surprise, and he said, “Fuck. You were that close?” With your nod, Erik laughed. “Damn. Shame on me, sweetheart.” 

“I do think that I want you to fuck me from the front,” you told him, easily turning to face him. “I mean, I can’t very well watch your cock sink into me if you’re fucking me from the back, can I?” 

“Where have you been all my life?” Erik asked, all breathy like he couldn’t believe what you were saying to him, and you smiled. Your minds seemed to think the same thing at the same time, because his hands went under your ass to help you as you perched on the edge of the counter, opening your legs for him to see all the slick and wet he had left you with. His chest heaved as he drank in the sight of your pussy, his hands skimming up your thighs, and you reached out to grab at his belt buckle, undoing it with much more deft fingers than you were used to having. He let you get as far as pulling down his zipper before he dug his blunt nails into your soft skin, making that growling purr again. 

“I just need a taste of you,” he told you, and before your brain could catch up with what he meant, he was getting down on his knees and he was getting to work, licking a broad, fat stripe up your glistening cunt. The wet warmth of his tongue made a broken moan rip from your mouth, and your head tilted back as he landed a messy kiss on your hole, throbbing and clenching around nothing. “Just like I thought, sweetheart: sweet as candy. I oughta start calling you sugar, huh?” 

He shifted, standing back to his full height, and the fire in your veins grew hotter at the sight of his mouth, shining in the light with your wet. You reached out for him and drew him into a messy kiss, and you let out your first true, full-chested moan of the night as you let yourself sink fully into him, into his smell and taste and energy, and Erik’s hips bucked forward. “Fuck,” he hissed, and drew in a tight breath. “I knew it was sensitive, they told me it would be, but fuck me, that’s intense.” 

“What is?” you asked, chasing him back into another kiss. 

“My stupid dick,” Erik chuckled against your mouth. “Rubbing against my pants, it’s, like, holy shit. You’d think I’d never had my dick touched before, the way it feels.” 

You resumed the job that you had abandoned before as you kissed him, and his hands joined you to help tug down his jeans just enough to shove down the band of his boxers, his belt buckle jingling as it moved. He had a nice dick, decently long and deliciously thick— now you understood what his whole “stretching you out” thing was about, because oh my God— but you couldn’t focus on the whole thing for too long. Extending from his beautiful rosy tip was the silver metal ball, indicative of the end of a piercing, and your stomach pitched. That was going inside of you, and you had never thought something could be so arousing. Quickly, before he could push your hand away, you wrapped your fingers around his length, pulling on his bottom lip with your teeth as you stroked his cock. 

His cock jumped in your hand as he groaned, his eyebrows furrowing with the pleasure of it. “Fuck,” he gasped. “Holy shit, sweetheart, I think you’re gonna kill me if you make me wait any longer.” 

“We wouldn't want that,” you told him. You shuffled a bit, opening your legs wider for him, and his strong hands angled your legs to wrap around his waist. He was quick, obviously rather skilled with it, as he grasped his cock and guided it to your hole, pressing just the smallest bit in before he raised his eyes up to meet yours. A shiver ran down your back at the eye contact, and he seemed to notice the effect he had on you, because he put a hand on your face, keeping you from moving. 

“If it hurts,” he started. “Don’t tell me. Just scream for me.” 

Your breaths timed in tandem as he bullied his way inside you, going slowly to savor your tight resistance, and you gasped. His dick felt so good inside you, that funny little electrical charge working overtime with every bit he gave you, but the hard ball of the piercing in you nearly made tears fall. Not because it hurt— it didn’t; it was noticeable, of course, but you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why it felt so damn good, it just did. His cock was stiff and hard and hot, heated steel under warm velvet, and you cried out a wrecked little noise as he bottomed out, his thick balls nestled against your ass. 

Thankfully, you somehow managed to keep your head on straight and look at his face, and you saw a man possessed. His cheeks pink, his spit-slick rosebud mouth open, eyes squeezed shut and eyebrows pitched, messy hair falling over his forehead. God, the man was in heaven inside you, and his moan came as he opened his eyes. “Fuck,” he laughed. “Look at that— fits like a glove. A really tight, really… Really warm, super wet… Glove— Fuck.” He abandoned the joke almost immediately, instead moving to pull his hips back, his eyes greedily taking in the sight of himself. You watched as well, seeing his softest skin all slick and shiny with your wetness, and he pulled himself out fully, watching as your hole throbbed in his absence. 

“God,” you whined, a pit opening in your stomach. “Erik, baby, put it back in, please.”

“I like the way you say my name,” he told you. “You say it like… I don’t know. Like you love the way it tastes.”

“I do,” you told him. Your chest heaved as you waited for him to take pity on you, and he quickly shoved your shirt up your chest, exposing your tits and the pushup bra you had worn, and he gave a wolfish grin. 

“Good,” he said. “I’m so glad. Now, sweetheart, you said you wanted my cock back inside you?” 

“Yes!” you yelped. He leaned down and kissed the swell of your tits as you writhed, and you added, “Please, Erik, please, put your cock inside me again, I feel so empty without you in my pussy.” 

“Such a filthy fuckin’ mouth,” Erik smiled, and he shook his head. “Nah, Bobby wouldn’t have been able to handle you, you would’ve knocked him out, you’re too much for him.” 

“Y’know,” you started. “I came here tonight to see Bobby. My friend always jokes that he’s my boyfriend.” 

Erik’s eyebrows furrowed, this time in confusion. “Have you fucked him?” he asked with narrowed eyes. 

“No,” you told him quickly. ���Just— I don’t know. Had a little crush on him, that’s all. It’s those blue eyes, makes it hard to keep a girl away. Same as you, actually.” 

“Past tense ‘had’ a crush on baby brother,” Erik repeated. “Not present tense?”

“Not as of… About half an hour ago,” you told him. “Found another somebody to focus on.” 

“Someone caught your attention over Bobby?” Erik laughed. “Whoever that guy is, he is one lucky bastard. I bet you’d let him lick your pussy, wouldn’t you?” He rolled his eyes at his own joke, and you giggled softly. 

“I’d even let him fuck me in this gross-ass bar bathroom,” you said. “If only he would shut his stupid mouth and put his dick back inside me.” 

Erik made a big show of closing his mouth, looking a little like a gaping fish, and you held back a snort of laughter. This time, you watched him, slapping your pussy with the head of his cock a few times, hearing the wet sound echo around the bathroom, and his dick twitched as he ran his thumb across his sensitive head, smearing his pearly pre-cum around. “Jesus,” he gasped. “Gotta quit doing that, s’gonna make me bust before I’ve even really fucked you.” 

You watched as he situated his pierced head back at your entrance, and you felt like all the breath in your chest got knocked out in one punch as he pushed inside, a little quicker and rougher than before. He didn’t waste time to start up a rhythm, wrinkling his nose as he gripped your hips and fucked you, and your arms circled around his neck, hiding in his shoulder and attempting to muffle your noises. It wasn’t quiet exactly in the bathroom, the music from the bar proper still very clearly audible, the walls still sorta rattling with the heavy bass, and you weren’t worried that anyone out there would hear you, but you were also hesitant to risk it. “D-Does anyone know?” you stammered. 

“Know what?” Erik asked. His belt rattled again as he snapped his hips forward into you, and you let out a wrecked moan into the dip of his neck. 

“That we’re in here together,” you said. “Th-That you’re fucking me within an inch of my life.” 

“I don’t think so,” Erik said. “Told Bobby I was heading back here, then was gonna split, but I don’t know if he saw you come back, so who knows what he knows. Why, are you worried your little boyfriend is gonna get jealous?” 

“No,” you told him with a shaky voice. He was so close to that spot inside you with every drag of his cock, and you could almost taste the incoming pop of electricity that would snap on your tongue when he did. 

“You want people to know I’m fucking you back here?” Erik asked. “Let the whole damn bar know that a pretty thing like you would let someone like me violate you? Damn, girl, you might be kinkier than me.” 

“Not likely,” you countered. “I mean, who here has the pierced genitals?” 

“Fair point,” Erik said. “Ya like it?” 

“I might never go back to regular dicks after this,” you chuckled, and Erik nodded in satisfaction. “But I don’t know if it’s the piercing, or if you’re just an absolute godlike fuck, even without that thing.” 

“Mix of both?” Erik offered. “I’m sure my sparkling personality has something to do with it too.” 

Before you could think of a snappy comeback, he fucked into you, and that electricity popped in your mouth as white flashed in your vision. “Fuck!” you squealed, tangling your fingers in his hair. “Erik, oh my God!” 

“Right there?” he asked, and you nodded quickly. His grip on your waist tightened, and you could almost feel the capillaries bursting under your skin to bruise up all tender by tomorrow morning as he fucked into that spot once more. Your whole body jostled with the feeling, and you squeezed your thighs hard around his body, urging him on. He was quick with it now, hammering into you and forcing out uh-uh-uh! moans from you, and you dug your fingernails into his scalp. He wasn’t quiet either, hissing in tight breaths and groaning as you throbbed around him, and a properly loud moan tumbled from his lips when your mouth attached to his neck, sucking at the sensitive pulse point. “Fuck, you gonna mark me up?” he panted, and you looked up at his face. His forehead under his hair was shiny with sweat, his eyes blown way the fuck out, lips bitten all red and raw— he was just about the most handsome guy you’d ever seen. 

“S’that so bad?” you asked, leaning back and biting at a different part of his skin. You intended to leave many bruises, in as many places as possible, and one of his strong hands lifted from your hip to cradle your head against his neck. Your tongue soothed the sting of your bites, and you could feel his throat and chest rumble as he pitched his head towards the ceiling and moaned. 

“Not at all,” he whispered. “‘Specially if you leave your pretty lipstick all over my neck.”

“Wanna leave it everywhere,” you told him. That telltale knot was tightening at the bottom of your tummy, and, based on his shaky breathing and the slow increase in volume, he didn’t have much longer left either. “E, baby,” you whispered, and he touched his forehead to yours, stealing a kiss to your mouth. “Wanna see us. Turn me around.” 

The brief few seconds where he pulled out of you felt like torture, but he guided you off the counter and around, back in the position you started with. You steadied yourself on your hands, and hardly had time to even think again before he was back inside you, anchoring on your hips. It was louder now too, the hits of his skin on yours coming faster with the angle shift, and his dick (and the associated piercing) rubbed against your tender spot with every single thrust. Your legs felt like jelly and you dug your nails into the countertop as you looked up to the mirror, and you jumped with shock. 

Who the absolute fuck were you looking at? By all accounts, the girl in the mirror was you— she had your eyes, your pretty face, the same outfit you wore. But her eyes were blown wide like she was rolling, her lipstick smeared across her face with her mascara gathered and running under her eyes. Her fingers moved when yours did, her chest heaved when yours did, she even moaned when you did. This was you; or, at least, this is what Erik did to you. You didn’t hate the fucked-out look on yourself. 

You cast your gaze to Erik in the mirror and found him studying your reflection as well, his bottom lip firmly between his teeth. He had pulled his shirt up with the position change, and your mouth watered at the collection of tattoos on his chest and stomach, the focal point being the large, dark skull in the middle of his torso. His stomach tensed and flexed as he fucked you, and you only managed to catch a momentary silver glint of nipple rings (what the fuck was with this guy?) before the knot in your stomach began to loosen, threatening the last shreds of your sanity. 

“Erik!” you squealed. Skillfully, he molded his front to your back and placed his arms over top of yours, threading your fingers together as he bit at your shoulder. 

“You gonna cum?” he asked, and you sobbed as his rhythm changed, from quick and hurried, to one hard slam after the other, a decidedly slower flow but all the more serving to get you to your end. “You gonna scream when you cream all over my cock?”

“Yes!” you cried. “Fuck, I’m so close, E, please!” 

“Aw, you poor thing,” he said, all condescending once more. “Little sweetheart, can’t take it anymore, huh?” One of his hands started to inch away from yours, and you knew exactly what he was on his way to do. 

You weren’t sure if his rough fingers actually made contact with your clit when you came. True to your word, you sobbed and moaned through your climax, drawn from so deep within your chest that it almost hurt, your head dropping forward as your whole body shook in the aftermath of the absolute assault on your nervous system. Erik’s strength was on full show now, because he used the little bit of it that he still had harnessed to keep you upright, his arm around your waist as he roughly buried himself up to the hilt in you, and it didn’t take long for you to feel the warmth of his cum inside you. You hadn’t even thought about a condom until right that second, when it was decidedly too late for one. 

And then it was quiet. Not completely, of course; his breathing was rattly and hard from exertion, and you were sniffling and whimpering, but it was much less noise than it had previously been. He cleared his throat and sniffed, and he carefully stood back to his full height with a sigh. “Goddamn…” he whispered. “You alright, sweetheart?” 

“M’good,” you whispered. “Just… Holy shit.” 

Erik chuckled raspily. “I know,” he said. “Think you can stand, or do you need me to hold onto ya?” 

“I can stand,” you assured him, and he slowly withdrew from you, earning himself one last, pathetic moan as his piercing rubbed against the spot inside you that felt raw and ultra-sensitive. The emptiness inside you was a strange feeling that you weren’t used to, and you tried to even out your breathing as he reached around you, grabbing at the stack of paper towels next to the sink. Before you really knew what was happening, he was on you again, turning you and lifting you back onto the counter, and you started, “Erik, I can’t, not again, give me a minute before—”

He shushed you, soft and gentle. “Not what I’m doing, sweetheart,” he told you, lifting your head up to look at him with a finger under your chin. He ran the tap against a few of the paper towels, soaking them with cold water, and he carefully wiped at your cheeks, trying to cool you down and help you settle. “There you go, that’s good, we’re calming down, we’re okay. What’s the shaking for? You alright, is it just the adrenaline? Or is something wrong?” 

You hadn’t even noticed the quivering that had started in your hands until he said something, and you frowned. “I’m alright,” you whispered. “Just… Oh my God.” 

He gave you a lopsided smile, then went to wipe down the sides of your mouth, cleaning up your makeup. “I know,” he said. “That was… I’ve never been like that before. I don’t know what happened to me. S’like I got inside you and, like, Hulked out or something. That was super fucked up, I’m sorry you had to see that.” 

You couldn’t help your laughter. “See that?” you repeated. “Erik, I’m the one you were fucking, I lived through that. Don’t know if I’ll be able to walk tomorrow, let alone out of here tonight.” 

Erik pouted at you. “Poor little princess,” he joked. “Need your prince to carry you into your Uber home?” 

“I don’t need saving,” you smiled. “But I might need your number.” 

Erik shared your smile, and he swooped in to land a kiss on your mouth. “See? I told you; we let cute girls touch our tattoos, and we get their numbers.”

When you woke up the next morning, in your own apartment, Anna already puking her hungover guts out in the bathroom, the first thing you thought about was Erik. You both managed to escape the bathroom unnoticed, even if you were walking like you had just ridden a bike across the country nonstop, and you found Anna out front, sharing a cigarette with some frat-dude-looking motherfucker. She hadn’t seen you and Erik together, so she didn’t try to pry into what you had been doing, but you caught Bobby’s eye, and he absolutely knew. Erik went back to his seat at the end of the bar, and you heard him ask his brother for a shot of tequila, and Bobby asked about what had happened just then, but Anna was whisking you away before you heard Erik’s response. It didn’t occur to you until you were already in the Uber home with a much-more-drunk-than-you Anna that you didn’t actually give Erik your phone number, and you could have hit yourself. How stupid did you have to be? Dude fucks you dumb and cums inside you, and you don’t even get his fucking number? What a fail.

Your whole body was sore and raw as you shifted in bed, grabbing at your phone tangled in your blankets. It was on 2% battery, having been forgotten the moment you got home, but it wasn’t the battery percentage that you were focused on. You had two texts, both about an hour old and from the same unsaved phone number, a local area code. The first text was a payment to you for $50, and the second said I’m an idiot. Get some breakfast and a Plan B. Take care of yourself. :)

Just as you were unlocking your phone to text Erik back, asking how exactly he got your phone number (probably Bobby), your phone vibrated with a third text; you could envision, for the past hour, him pacing around and debating whether to text you again. You had certainly done it before, and then promptly thrown your phone across the room when you finally hit send. So when will I get to see you again? 

You hit the call button, and the phone trilled for just a few seconds before the call picked up. Erik’s raspy voice, half-morning voice and half an obvious hangover from time spent at the bar after you left, said your name, as sweet as honey, like the first time he said it, but it wasn’t a question, like he was surprised you called. No, he was even and prepared, calm, cool, and collected. The memory of him last night, eyes blown out like he was on molly and his hair in his face, flashed in your mind’s eye, such a contrast from him right now, and you smiled. “If I sent you my address, would you come pick me up?” you asked. “We can get breakfast together, and you can see me again.” 

“Only if you also wanna see me,” Erik said. 

You could hear his smile from across the phone, and it made you smile even wider, like some lovesick teenager. “I would love nothing more.” 

[jennxxe]

Permanently marked.

pairings — erik campbell x fem! reader

summary — he gets your name tattooed over his chest.

warnings — cursing, getting tattooed, he lq wants u to baby him

a/n — manifesting a man like this thru my writing. this is js a cute lil short fic.

He said it like it was nothing. Deadpan, like he was letting you know he was gonna grab a smoke. Not declare lifelong emotional insanity.

“Yeah, I’m getting your name tatted,” he told you, flicking through needles like he was choosing a sandwich order. “Over the sternum. Big.”

You paused, looking up from your phone. “Excuse me?”

Erik didn’t even look up from the tray of freshly sterilized needles he was loading like a psychopath. “You heard me.”

You blinked. “You’re kidding.”

Finally, he looked at you—blue eyes steady, unreadable, but something flickered there. Not joking. Not exactly.

“Nope.” He gestured lazily to his chest. “Right here. Over the bone. Big enough to see from space. Maybe throw a little filigree under it, just to piss off my boss.”

“My full name? Not initials?”

“Yeah. Not some weak ass initials or hidden spot behind my ear. Your full name. Dead center.” A beat. “That way if I die, whoever’s scraping me off the pavement knows who ruined me.”

You couldn’t tell if your heart was pounding from horror, arousal, or some toxic cocktail of both. “Are you insane?”

He tilted his head. “Little bit, yeah. Thought we covered that already.”

And then he was shirtless, because of course he was. Sprawled back in the chair like it was no big deal, his pierced chest on display—those little silver rings glinting in the light like they knew they were part of the problem. He had one arm slung behind his head, the other resting low on his stomach. Ridiculously calm for someone about to have your name drilled into his body forever.

The tattoo artist raised a brow. “You sure about this, man?”

Erik didn’t even blink. “Not even slightly. Let’s go.”

You should’ve stopped him. Should’ve talked him out of it. But something about the way he lay there unguarded, cocky, quiet made your throat go tight. This man, with his temper and his filthy mouth and his emotional range of a microwave dinner, was about to mark himself with you.

And he didn’t even flinch.

You watched every second of it. The machine buzzed loud in the silence, echoing in your chest. The lines started sharp, bold, no delicate cursive. Just unapologetic black ink slicing across skin. Your name, letter by letter, carved into him like a dare.

He winced once, maybe twice, jaw clenching but he didn’t say a word. Just stared at the ceiling, fists curled, breathing steady like it didn’t hurt. Like he’d take a thousand needles if it meant making you unignorable.

The artist glanced at you halfway through. “People usually get initials. Or something abstract.”

Erik snorted. “Yeah, and people are cowards.”

When it was done, the skin around the ink was raw and red, a little swollen, like it was still becoming. He sat up slow, hissed through his teeth, then turned to the mirror. Looked at it.

Then looked at you.

“Well?” he asked, like he didn’t just do the most unhinged romantic gesture anyone had ever done in a strip-mall tattoo shop. “You gonna cry, or kiss me?”

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “You are such a dumbass.”

He stepped closer, eyes still on yours. “Yeah, well. I’m your dumbass now. Legally. Kinda.”

You ran your fingers lightly over the fresh ink and watched him shiver, just slightly. He tried not to show it. He failed.

“If you break my heart,” he said quietly, voice rough, “I’m charging you double to laser it off.”

You laughed, soft. “You wouldn’t laser it off.”

He met your eyes.

“You’re right,” he said. “I’d cover it with a skull and pretend it never happened.”

You go back to your place eventually, pulling up his shirt over his chest as you straddle him on your bed.

“Don’t touch it,” he muttered, voice rough, barely masking how much the fresh ink stung. “It’s pissed off enough already.”

But the second your fingers hovered near the red, swollen skin, he flinched, and then grabbed your wrist—not hard, but firm enough to stop you.

“I said, don’t,” he growled, but his eyes weren’t cold. They were… something softer. Vulnerable, even.

You raised an eyebrow, smiling. “Since when did you get so needy?”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m not needy.”

“Sure.”

He sighed again, looking anywhere but at you. “It’s not the tattoo. It’s the stupid aftercare shit. Gotta keep it clean. Dry. No rubbing.”

You leaned in closer, voice dropping low. “So you want me to baby you.”

Erik blinked, like you’d just solved a puzzle he didn’t want to admit he was stuck on.

“Don’t say that.”

“Say what?”

“That I want you to take care of me.”

You smiled wider. “I’ll take care of you.”

His jaw twitched, and before you could react, he grabbed your hand and pressed it against the fresh ink. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin and just for a moment, the edgy ass exterior cracked.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he whispered, voice rougher now. “Especially not Julia. I’m supposed to be the badass who doesn’t need shit.”

You chuckled softly. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

And as you traced the letters slowly, feeling the raised lines beneath your fingertips, he let out a low, contented hum. The closest thing Erik Campbell had to a purr.

[livingdxadwriter]

Erik Campbell X F!Reader

Just some thoughts I’ve had about intimacy with bf!Erik but am too overwhelmed and tired to write neatly into a fic so I’m spewing them here. This might be a little more self indulgent than normal with some more personal liberties but fuck I’m an alt girly who loves an alt man. It’s also just me spewing words cause I’m horny. There’s no story. Just sex. Hope yall accept this offering.

18+ under the cut, mdni, sexual content below. P in v, oral (fem receiving), spitting, choking, overstimulation, creampie (wrap it before u tap it pls), Erik is literally so gross and mean (I love it), bit of dom!erik (but we know he’s a switch, we’ll get to that), mentions of body piercings and tattoos.

WC: 1.4k

A/N: I do have some more Erik thoughts that I didn’t really fit into this post but would like to explore (some more kinks and switch behaviors perhaps?) and I have an actual longass Erik fic I will get to when uni allows. So if you want me to write more Erik def let me know.

Just thinking about how insane it is to be with Erik. Like that man is feral. You knew he was intense when you realized he did not give a fuck about pda or personal space. He would kiss you unannounced in front of people, in the street, in front of your friends, his family, it didn’t matter. He had to be touching you in some way at all times, not always sexual, sometimes it was entirely sexual. Didn’t matter, he just loved touching you in every way, that’s just simply how it was. He just loves to show everyone that you’re his girl. You knew that he was intense when you randomly caught a glimpse of your name freshly inked on his hand after a couple years of dating. You knew he had ruined you, too when you asked him to tattoo his initials on you not too after. And you knew you were fucked when you no longer cared when, where or how he fucked you, you just wanted him to do it.

He loves to get his head between your legs. He will lick, suck and fingerfuck you for what feels like fucking hours. He will shove his tongue into your pussy, split you wide open with his fingers, spit smeared all over your pussy, thighs, his face. He’s literally so messy and he gives no fucks. What’s the point of eating a meal if he doesn’t get a lil dirty in the process? He literally fucking loves it.

And when he’s done? Because he’s done when he says he is, not when you say it—he grabs your face and is like “open your mouth so you can taste the fucking mess you made.” And he spits into your mouth before he kisses you so you can taste yourself still on his tongue, on his lips. Didn’t we say he was fucking messy?

And then? Erik will fuck you however, wherever he can. He will fuck you from behind, on your side, with you on top, on your back. Take your fucking pick he loves all of them.

When he’s on top of you? His possibilities are endless. It’s just so easy to grab and squeeze your throat with his long tattooed fingers, cutting off your oxygen to the point where you’re absolutely delicious on his cock. Hold you down where he wants and how he wants. He loves watching your micro expressions, each twist of your face, your eyes rolling back, your mouth open with each moan he pulls out of you. It’s so fucking hot.

“Oh, you just love that, don’t you? You fucking slut.” Is what he says when he eventually ends up holding your thighs apart and ultimately pounding into you like that was all you were made for. It was at this point that he just didn’t shut the fuck up. You had a theory that he got off to talking through it just as much as you did.

“You just love taking it raw, huh? Such a whore.” He knows damn well you got off to his mean remarks, your pussy squeezing the fuck of out him was always a good indicator, but he also got off to making you talk back, knowing damn fucking well you couldn’t. “Mmm yeah? Say it then. Say it like you mean it or you won’t get to come.”

The sound you made was absolutely agonizing, a breathy whine of frustration that only added to Erik’s amusement. But it was when his hips no longer smacked against you and your shitty ass headboard stopped smacking the wall that you realized he wasn’t joking. He would absolutely leave you hanging for a while just to get what he wanted. And the worst part? It worked every fucking time.

“Ugh! I’m such a slut, I love taking it like that. Please Erik! Pleasepleaseplease.” What Erik loves the most about this, is how incoherent you get when you’re getting fucked. And that shit he is addicted to. And the way that you’re gasping and whining when he’s pounding into you again, your bed creaking under your movements, you just can’t help it. It just feels so good, the way his pierced cock feels inside you, in so deep it’s damn near touching your cervix. For that alone you stopped using condoms once you realized just how good his cock felt.

And it’s just after your third orgasm (he already made you come twice with his fingers and tongue) that you’re starting to move so fucking much. And Erik can normally take a hint and will get himself to come so he can give you a break. But sometimes when he’s frustrated (from work, he lost a ranked Mortal Kombat match, take your pick, he gets pissed off at the smallest inconvenience), he just doesn’t care.

“Mhmph! Erik!” You barely let out in between moans, he was just fucking you so hard you could damn near feel his ring touching your cervix. It isn’t that you didn’t want it—you had a safe word, you could say it—you’re just so overstimulated, your body twitching and shaking and it’s just too much. Erik definitely noticed the way you were trying to crawl up the bed and away from him.

“Oh? I’m sorry doll, is that too much? You can’t take it?” He shakes his head at you, his tone mocking in between heavy breaths as he simply presses your knees to your chest, spreading you out for him. He uses his body to keep you there, both arms planted on either side of you so you couldn’t go anywhere but right there, impaled by his pierced cock. “You wanted it so bad, you literally begged me to fuck you. Sent me dirty pics while I was at work, saying how much you missed me. Such a needy girl for me but when I give it to you, you can’t take it?”

You can definitely feel it, you’re damn near crying, writhing underneath him and dragging your nails down his back which will definitely be there for a few days. Your loud as shit headboard is hitting the wall so much you know damn well your neighbor is going to scowl and glare at you next time she sees you downstairs doing laundry, horrified by the slut that lives next door and her freak metalhead looking boyfriend. But honestly? You kinda liked that people would know you got fucked, and really fucking good.

Sobbing you’re shaking and squeezing him so tight, he knows you’re so close again.

“Nonono, I can’t—please.” You’re sobbing, your pussy pulsating around his cock. He shakes his head softly at you, firmly grabbing your throat under your jaw to force you to look at him, with the same hand that has your name tattooed above his wristbone. His blue eyes are fixated on you as he uses his free hand to pinch and twist your pierced nipple (which he pierced himself), knowing damn fucking well that drives you insane, how? Because it drove him insane when you messed with his. “Ooooh, fuckfuckfuck, Erik, Erik, Erik—“

You’re just so pathetic when you come, crying and blabbering incoherent shit. Erik loves that shit, it makes his cock twitch, want to fuck you full of his cum until it leaks out of you. And so he does exactly that. You latch onto his hair, his face above yours as he plants his arm on your pillow beside your head again.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come. You’re gonna let me fill you up, right? You’re gonna take it like the good slut that you are?” His voice is gravelly when he speaks, the slightest bit shaky as he thrusts a few more times, only getting sloppier. The way you’re mumbling soft begs and curses, his hand still gripping your throat, definitely isn’t helping him keep his shit together. “Take it just like that. You’re such a good fucking girl. Fuck, baby.”

He sits so deep and heavy inside you when he comes, just loving the feeling of keeping his cum inside you for as long as possible. He just loves marking you as his in every fucking way he can, as if all the tattoos he put on your body (including the E on your inner thigh that he also put there) aren’t enough. And it isn’t until his cum is leaking out of you that he pulls out slowly, strategically angling his hips so that you can feel his ring as he slides out. And it’s after a sloppy tongue kiss that he announces he will be back to clean up his mess and bring you some water.

And this is the type of shit that Erik does. And why have you put up with him for so goddamn long. It’s just never enough. And you always want more.

[cigsafterfics]

in the flesh

summary. you watch longingly as your boyfriend marks strangers with permanent inked lines—but you want something more than a tattoo. you want his initials carved in your skin.

pairing. erik campbell x fem!reader

wc. 3.03k

warnings. smut, piv sex, knife play, blood kink, playing with death (not recommended), degradation kink, petnames, jealous!bratty!reader with internalized misogyny tendencies uhh, dom!erik when he’s angry, spanking, fingering, slight dumbification? 18+ only minors do not interact.

The night isn’t getting younger yet Erik has to tend to another, hopefully last, customer who decided to go for a lower back tattoo as if it was a casual spur of the moment afterthought. Yeah, good luck not regretting that in the morning. Maybe you’re being too harsh with her in your head, but tattooing on the lower back region feels a little too intimate for comfort. Okay, you can’t pretend Erik hasn’t seen it all. He’s probably got tons of people, including women, bent over half naked before him every day to get their backs tatted.

That doesn't bother you one bit. However, it only makes you iffy if the girl starts innocently batting her lashes and flirts at your boyfriend who’s just trying to do his job. Many such fucking cases. Erik remains professionally affable and his naturally talkative self. He may tend to overshare, but he knows better than to entertain their annoyingly coquettish pander. Still, that doesn’t stop jealousy from consuming your guts. What can you say? She’s going to be the center of your boyfriend’s undivided attention for the next three hours or so. It doesn’t help that she’s pretty and about your age. Jealousy’s a perfectly justifiable reaction.

“First time?” Erik asks.

“Yeah, kinda scared.” The girl giggles.

You roll your eyes when Erik asks her to pull her pants down further, revealing more skin for him to work with all the while, giving you more reasons to resent this poor girl. “So, you get the gist. Tattoos hurt, they’re undoable—well, sort of. It’s important to me you know what you’re getting yourself into.” He explains with halfhearted concern. Erik then rolls up his sleeves to don his usual latex gloves.

See, he doesn’t need to do the sleeve rolling thing. It’s all to tease you because he knows how much you love his pale, inked and deliciously veiny forearms. He knows they’re worthy of showing off but you personally think they should be reserved for your viewing pleasure only. Not here, not when a girl with underlying motives to steal your boyfriend is around. She doesn’t deserve to see them.

Before you know it, you’re interjecting the scene and the book you’re reading suddenly isn’t that interesting anymore. “Babe, of course she knows what a tattoo is. Otherwise, she never would’ve gone the trouble to come all this way here and get a trashy tramp stamp.” You snap, immediately regretting how it came out. Too harsh. Even Erik stares at you with widened eyes, a silent look that screams what the hell?.

“I mean my boyfriend’s a professional. He manages to make bad tattoos look like works of fucking art. He’s like emo Michaelangelo and your rear’s the Sistine Chapel ceiling.” You quickly retract upon seeing your boyfriend’s reaction, you look at the girl on the table and force a fake smile at her expense.

“Hey, I wouldn’t go that far.” Erik says modestly, stifling a laugh while he sets up the needles and ink. Your ridiculous poetic analogy has charmed him.

However, the girl isn’t as amused. She shoots you a scrutinizing look over her shoulder instead. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

You open your mouth to reply with an unprompted retort but Erik is quick to step in before fire breaks loose. “She’s my girlfriend. Casual observer when I’m on the clock. She’s good company, usually...” Erik emphasizes the last word while he glances at you intently. Fine, you get the message. Sit pretty in the corner until closing time. Don’t fuck it up and push another customer into rage-reviewing the parlor again because you can’t keep your mouth shut. “When mercury isn’t in retrograde or whatever. You into that shit too?”

“Not a chance. Is she here to solely insult your customers because that’s like, not a good business model.” Tramp stamp girl sneers as Erik starts the mechanical needle. A long dragging buzz emits through the room. The metal music in the background grows more and more palpable as you shoot back daggers in return. “I literally compared your ass to the Sistine Chapel and you still think that’s an insult?”

Erik sighs sardonically when he realizes he has a situation to mediate. “Bet she appreciates that so much, baby.” He says before punching the first needle against the girl’s skin, causing her to groan in pain.

You recognize the sarcasm in Erik’s tone. You deflate slightly. “You’re supposed to side with me.”

“I am. But don’t you think you’re being a little… distracting right now maybe?” Erik replies not bothering to look at you as his eyes zeroes in on the ink work… and her ass.

Oh. Okay. You scoff bitterly in disbelief before admitting defeat. So you did the favor by sitting quietly in the corner, secretly sulking, while attempting to finish a chapter in the book but the words only flew over your head.

You find a way to distract yourself by manning the music as you watch your boyfriend masterfully do his craft. Two hours pass by excruciatingly long but you’re just glad that it’s over when the girl finally hops off the chair and Erik instructs her about aftercare and obligatorily reminds her to like and subscribe in a comically deadpan tone before she leaves.

You join him in closing up, wiping the glass counters and putting bottles of chemicals back in the storage cabinets. Erik is unusually quiet throughout. You take it that he’s exhausted, but you’re not going to let what happened slip easily. You’re famously known for not letting things go and Erik is aware of that. “I think it’s unfair you get to tattoo and look at her ass for two fucking hours.”

Erik huffs, shaking his head. “I kinda have to…”

You walk towards the chair he’s busily cleaning. “I’m just wondering when it's gonna to be my turn.” You smile innocently as you sit on it. Erik tilts his head, slightly bewildered at what you’re implying. A small smirk tugs the corner of lips, “You want me to tattoo you? But you told me repeatedly you’d rather drink that bottle of rubbing alcohol than get a tattoo.”

“You’re right, but maybe I want something more painful than a tattoo.” You say, your lips drawing closer to his but only enough for your hot breath to touch his skin.

Erik is using all his power not to pull you then and there and kiss you sloppily. “I’m listening...” He says, his voice going lower.

You pull yourself away, biting your lip when anxiety finally strikes you. You’ve debated for so long whether or not it is appropriate to bring it up, considering your boyfriend’s trauma. You feel your heart pounding against your chest as you’re about to spill him your shameful fantasy. “You know the knife you got when death came after you… the one you always carry everywhere. I can’t stop thinking about the idea of you using it on me.”

The cat’s out of the bag and you can only hope Erik receives it with open arms. He pauses, surprised by your words before raising his eyebrows. Your boyfriend looks intrigued more than anything. “I’m totally expecting something else, but this is welcomed.”

Relief and that familiar feeling of excitement takes over you.

“So let me get this straight, you want me to play with my knife on you? Is that what you want, you little freak?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, smiling sheepishly at your own request. You’re suddenly shy when Erik’s gaze lingers on you with lust-drunken eyes. “Death isn’t in control anymore. You are. But I understand if you feel uncomfortable, we can ju-“

“No, no, babe. What the fuck? I think you woke up something in me that I didn’t even know existed. This is some spiritual awakening.” One thing about you is that you never fail to amaze Erik with your curiosities.

“I want you to mark me. Claim me as your own. Put a brat like me in her place—” Erik pushes you on the chair, his breath has noticeably gotten heavy as you watch the skull on his stomach rise up and down. “Sit down, when I come back I better see you without your clothes on you fucking slut.”

You strip off your top and jeans easily. When your arms reach behind to unclasp your bra, Erik comes back almost as if on cue, a sharp fixed blade in hand. Your breath hitches at the sight of the knife, the lamp light casting a glint on its sharp edges. “Stop. Let me get this off for you. ‘S not like you need it anyway.” He commands, deftly flipping the knife between his fingers. You lay back down and let Erik do the work. He secures you on the chair, him on top of you. You are now literally under his mercy.

Erik drags the tip of the knife down your chest, the blade only grazing at your skin lightly. He’s one push of the knife away from drawing a nasty wound. You sigh, feeling yourself getting wetter in your panties at the thought of Erik toying with your safety—with death. He could stab you to your death any moment, but he chooses not to. It’s messed up but that somehow drives you over to the fucking edge. With one swift flick, he cuts your bra in half. You gasp at the sudden cool air hitting your nipples.

Erik chuckles at your reaction. “You look so fucking beautiful, you know that?” His sweet compliment juxtaposes the unholy acts he’s about to do. His hand gropes your boob, kneading it expertly while he dives in on the other, his septum cold against your touch. His mouth wraps around your firm nipple to suck your bud, tongue circling in motion. Erik moans against your skin, sending deep vibrations in your chest.

“Too bad I have to mess up a pretty little thing like you.” Erik pulls away and reveals a stupid smug smile plastered across his face, proud of the writhing mess he made out of you. You only look at him under your lashes, a silent plea for him to do something. Anything. He soon pouts, “Poor baby, always begging for my attention. You can’t even function properly without being tended to, isn’t that right?”

You nod, biting your lip too hard it draws blood. Erik cups your chin, pinching your cheeks slightly. You moan at his strong grip. “Use your words, baby.”

“Yes.” You manage to weakly choke out.

“Pathetic.” Erik spits, letting you go before trailing his knife across your torso. You arch your back when the blunt end of its handle touches your clothed clit. “Bet this pretty pussy is begging for my attention too, huh?” He moves the knife up and down, stimulating your clit with the handle. You buck your hips forward, moaning at the strange yet delicious sensation. “Yes—yes, please touch my pussy.” You whimper.

Erik is forgiving this time and heeds your wishes. He cuts the thin fabric off to expose your throbbing pussy. “God, you’re so fucking wet. Is this all for me?” He dips his fingers on your lips and teasingly rubs them, spreading your juices all over.

“Yes… ‘s all for you.” You moan, desperately in need of his fingers inside you. “Please, please Erik. Please fuck me.” You feel like a ticking bomb ready to explode. Your desperate sounds seem to satisfy Erik enough so he plunges his fingers into your pussy pumping in and out, his rings stretching you out in ways you haven’t felt before.

“Good girl.” Erik coos, marvelled at how tight your walls pull his fingers deep. Before you could feel the tight coil forming in your stomach, Erik does the unthinkable. He lifts up his blade dangerously close to your neck causing your breath to heave out of instinctual fear. You quickly let your guard down when you remember the man wielding the knife is knuckles-deep inside you. “Don’t cum yet or there will be ugly consequences.” He grits his teeth as he speeds up his pace. “You call that a threat?” You smile at him tauntingly.

“Shut the fuck up.” Erik withdraws his fingers to get back at you, leaving your walls hollow and once again unattended. He inches his knife towards your cheek, caressing you longingly with the blade. You can tell he’s getting cocky with it. “Tell me… where do you wanna be marked, slut?”

You thought of him carving his initials in your skin more times than you can count, but you never considered the possibility of it coming true. You’re left tongue-tied, unable to muster words to come out from your mouth. “What? Can’t think for yourself?” Erik coos condescendingly. “Now you need me to do the thinking for you too? Poor baby.”

“How about here?” Erik digs his head on the side of your neck, sucking off the sweet spot until it's tender. “I know you love it when everyone sees how much of a slut you are, and it’s all for me.” Once he leaves an adequate amount of hickeys on your neck, he moves on to your collarbone along with his knife.

“Or here…” He traces the sharp tip on your collarbone, drawing the letter E. His touch feels light as a feather, but this newfound gentleness won’t last long. You hold your breath in anticipation of what’s to come. Erik gives you a reassuring look before he presses the knife in the same spot on your collarbone where he traced his initial. A sharp pang of pain shoots through your senses but you can only elicit a loud moan of heavenly pleasure. “Shh… relax, baby.” He says softly. You watch your blood seep out from the fresh cut as beads of crimson stream down the surface of your skin. Erik wipes the blood off with his bare hand in precise fashion like he’s doing a tattoo on you.

“You’re doing so well.” Erik praises, kissing your tears off your cheek before putting all his attention to the wound he inflicted. E C. Carved on your collarbone for all to see. His initials. “You look so fucking hot. And you’re mine. God, when did I get so lucky?” He kisses the bloody letters, devouring the blood out of your flesh. Erik smiles to reveal red tainting the gaps of his teeth. You’d be lying if you say that’s not the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen in your waking life.

You pull Erik close to clash your lips against his. You kiss him like you're starving, tasting your blood from his tongue. You moan at the sickly sweet metal taste that pairs with the cigarettes and coffee Erik recently had. “Erik, please fuck me. I want your cock so bad.” You whisper in between your messy kisses.

“Since you’ve been such a good girl for being so brave, I think you deserve it.” He replies, tucking your stray hair behind your ears almost too dramatically. “That’s so fucking cliché.” You giggle. Erik smirks, amused at the fact that you still look innocent even after moaning all sorts of dirty profanities. “Yeah? What about this… does this feel cliché to you?” He thrusts his hips forward to let you feel the tight bulge of his cock threatening to burst out from his jeans any moment now. “You made me so hard, baby. You drive me fuckin’ nuts.”

“Turn around.” He says and you immediately comply, unable to wait any longer as you maneuver yourself on the tattoo chair so you’re lying on your stomach. “Ass up, baby girl.” Erik slaps your cheek causing you to gasp and giggle even more. Erik can’t help himself. He always spanks your ass whenever he gets the chance. “Good girl.” He grabs his dick and eases his tip teasingly between your folds, his Prince Albert piercing barely touching your wet pussy. You suddenly got reminded that you're dating an asshole.

You take matters into your own hands by sinking yourself into him but he holds you down. Erik’s strength shouldn’t be underestimated despite his skinny build. “I need you to stay still, princess.” He instructs as he rubs soothing circles on the ample spot of your left cheek. “Think you can handle a little more pain?”

“You can fuck me as hard as you want once this is over. I just need to carve a heart right… here.” There it goes again. You feel his knife slice through the spot he’s been lovingly massaging. Your eyes roll at the pain, as your pussy clenches around his tip. “Please…” You whine while Erik brands you. “God babe, I didn’t think you’d get off to this. You like it when I hurt you, don’t you?”

“Yeah… feels good.” You say breathlessly, making Erik chuckle.

“Now this is what I call a tattoo.” He says, admiring his magnum opus on your ass proudly, a heart shaped lineart with his name spelled out inside of it. Erik didn’t waste another second to ram his dick fully inside you.

“Fuck!!” You scream at the sudden fullness in your pussy, clawing the leather on the chair as he thrusts in and out with such precision, his piercing palpably drags against your walls, hitting your G-spot in the most mind spinning way possible. “That’s it, good girl. You’re taking me so well. Fuck—your tight pussy belongs to me.” Erik mumbles incoherently through in his growls.

The room is filled with the sounds of your salacious moans and skin slapping repeatedly. You look around and see the glass windows, blatantly reminding you that the sight of you getting railed by your boyfriend can be viewed from outside. Someone could be watching. You didn’t care though. You want everyone to know you belong to Erik. Erik pulls your hair, fucking you deeper until his pace becomes unsteady. “I’m gonna cum.” He bites your shoulder. “You better take it like the good girl you are…”

Before you can react, you feel spurts of hot liquid coat every crevices in your pussy. It didn’t take long until you reached your high too. Erik praises you, as you ride your orgasm on his dick with slow and lingering thrusts. You lay your spent body lazily, savoring the euphoric feeling you just experienced.

Erik kisses your back, before slipping out to grab some sterile rags for clean up. He comes back with a mirror so you can properly see the marks he’s given you. “What do you think?” He asks shyly like he’s expecting artistic validation. After the amazing sex he’s given you, it’s only fair you have to give him that in return.

You smile, admiring his work etched on your skin. It’s going to stay that way for a long while. “I love it. I love you.”

“Guess I need to have you around in the shop more often." He helps you stand up, your legs still feel wobbly from the activity. Erik picks up and helps you put on your clothes.

“I guess you do.” You reply contentedly.

“I deserve a five-star review for giving you the best tattoo I’ve ever done.”

author’s note. a week after seeing fd6 and this man still lives rent free in my mind ughhh. been a while since i’ve written something spicy so i apologize for the rusty smut prose! & thank you so much for reading!! <3

[blueberrypancakesworld]

hii hope you're doing okay!! <3 i've just seen bloodlines and i'm absolutely NOT normal about erik, do you think you could write some smut about him, maybe related to that truck scene..... (if you know what i mean!!) if not that's totally okay feel free to ignore this ahah

A kinky discovery

Erik Campbell x fem!reader (girlfriend)

warning : +18, mdni, smut, oral - fem reciving, spanking, tiny teasing, fluff, no use of Y/n

Summary : Being Erik's girlfriend was never going to be boring, whether it was the new tattoos he was showing off, piercings on parts of his body that had a lot to offer or just his slightly weird but loving nature. But there was one side she hadn't seen yet and when she saw Erik flirting with the garbage truck, that interaction stirred something in her that she wanted him to do the same with her.

info : I'm not normal about Erik either, the truck scene showed me so much I wanted to know about Erik and of course you will get your request dear anon, best regards, thanks for the request and enjoy reading ;)

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

Her boyfriend Erik was a ray of sunshine, the nice black sheep of the family, with his piercings and tattoos he stood out and yet once you were in a conversation with him you saw his nice, friendly and also funny side.

He was someone you couldn't help but love, not only his family but also his girlfriend, who he had been dating for almost a year.

It was like meeting a fairy tale, both of them reaching for fallen objects and immediately striking up a conversation, it seemed fated that they should meet.

His family the Campbells and the Reyes also welcomed his girlfriend warmly and soon she was spending family parties and celebrations with both of them, everything seemed perfect and it only seemed to get more perfect when she was with the Campbells one sunny afternoon.

After work, she had arranged to meet Erik at his parents' house for dinner, and now she was standing in the kitchen with Bobby and Brenda, peeling vegetables and chopping meat for the stew, “You two are doing a wonderful job,” the older blonde woman said, seeming completely exhilarated by the teamwork.

Bobby was fast and efficient and she cut the meat precisely into small pieces, "Thanks Mom" came from the son who gave her a smile and quickly slipped a lettuce leaf to his pet turtle who was watching its owner in a small glass box opposite.

Paco was cute, small and would live to be decades old, but the tortoise was always the star of the family. Whether in photos, at parties or for strangers, as soon as the animal was brought out, all eyes were on Paco.

“Really cute,” she commented and saw Bobby's grin, who was glad that Erik's girlfriend also liked the reptile so much.

The three of them in the kitchen kept talking animatedly about the upcoming celebrations, the recipe was carefully written down by Brenda and slipped to her, "Then you can cook something hot together," she said with a wink and the heat rose a little on the younger woman's ears.

Brenda seemed enraptured whenever her firstborn brought his fruit, she seemed so proud and happy that her 'special' son was finally living his life the way he wanted, that he had a future together...and maybe a grandchild soon.

She didn't know whether it was a sexual reference or just some kind advice, but in any case she'd had enough of both with Erik, partner time and sex.

She was just about to help Bobby cut the last pieces of meat and wash her hands when she heard voices from outside, "Erik, Stef and Charlie are back, I'll just say hello," she announced and heard the joyful noises of Brenda, who was already eager to have the family meal.

Walking out through the hallway and opening the front door, she saw Stefani, Charlie and Erik standing in front of the garbage truck discussing something, looking at the spectacle she stopped at the door and smiled slightly.

Stefani was excited and seemed to want to say something to the others, Charlie looked at her indecisively with his arms crossed before Erik walked towards the truck.

Already wanting to shout what this was going to be, the words got stuck in her throat when she saw Erik handling the truck.

The initially lascivious hip swings more dance than serious, almost funny and yet somehow cute, to Erik who put his hands on the yellow metal and she clearly heard the overloud French kiss as he seemed to lick the truck more than kiss it.

Already thinking that this was it, that her heart could calm down again, a warm pull ran through her abdomen as she saw the slap of the flat of his hand on the tire.

The slap as skin met rubber, so firm and yet somehow erotic that she didn't move from her place, not when Stefani and Charlie walked past her and not even when Erik dragged her back into the house with a puzzled look on his face.

Yet the image of her boyfriend spanking the tire and being so open about it didn't leave her mind for the next few hours, replaying over and over like a continuous loop...until they arrived back at the apartment together in the evening.

Erik had clearly noticed that he had become calmer since the meal, although he didn't know the reason, he feared it was something else.

When they had both hung up their jackets and put their shoes in the cupboard, they stood in the kitchen waiting for the water to boil for tea, his eyes searching hers but her gaze seemed to avoid his, “Is everything all right?” he finally dared to ask.

As if he had hit the nail on the head, she seemed to wake up from her thoughts and look at him questioningly, “What?” his girlfriend asked him, not even listening, let alone realizing what had happened.

A sigh came over Erik's lips as he grabbed two cups, put the tea bags in and poured the hot water, “I was wondering if everything was okay, since dinner you've been completely silent and seem to be avoiding me...is it because of my mom?” he asked, knowing that Brenda could sometimes be a bit tempestuous and well, pushy when it came to her loved ones.

Immediately she felt the guilt come over her, that was definitely not the reason, she loved Erik but since his show every time she looked at him she got more than just nervous.

Pulling on the teabag a little and feverishly wondering if she should try to talk her way out of it, Erik's behavior took the decision away from her when he walked up to her and put his hand on hers.

“No matter what it was today, I still love you and you're the most important thing” he made it clear to her and she found his words extremely sweet but that wasn't the reason or stopped her thoughts from showing the scene again.

Her slight shake of her head confused him even more, “That's sweet Erik but that's not the reason...you can't laugh okay?” she demanded and he symbolized that his mouth was closed before gesturing for her to continue.

“So well when you made out with the garbage truck and spanked the tire well that....it turned me on” she confessed to him and as soon as she had finished her sentence Erik began to laugh as if he couldn't contain himself, playfully wiping tears from his eyes.

“Oh-Oh sweetie that's good” he mumbled, still amused, taking a sip of the tea as he caught himself in his amusement, when Erik saw her serious, look, he paused, as if studying her, before a surprised, “You were serious,” actually escaped his lips.

Erik now realized what she meant, what she had really been doing all those hours before he shook his hands and a knowing grin appeared on his face, “So you were turned on by me giving that sexy, tight, hot tire a slap?” he asked, still looking at her brief nod in slight disbelief.

Yet the look in his eyes, the knowledge he now had of what this meant, seemed so much more delicious to them both than the tea that was forgotten when he put his hands on her hips.

He navigated them both towards the bedroom, greedy kisses providing space for air, the two of them only breaking away from each other when it came to getting rid of the now far too distracting clothing.

Every more piece of exposed skin seemed to spur them both on and when Erik sat down on the bed and just patted his thighs, her cheeks burned with heat, “I'll be very gentle with my good girl, of course,” he winked and that took the seriousness out of the situation, which relieved her.

After all, it wasn't about some bdsm relationship with rules and regulations between them, it was about having fun and Erik was just using the new knowledge that made his girlfriend horny.

Trying to relax, moving towards him and bending over his cock, he gave her a moment to get used to it, “So did you like it when I gave you a slap?” he asked, teasingly running his hand down her back, “Yes...I do” she said almost meekly, and he could feel his grin as he too got a taste of the situation.

Silence that wavered between them was broken by a clear slap on her ass, she flinched as a gasp escaped her and Erik gave her a brief moment, “Something like that?” he asked again, wanting to know how firm he could make it.

There was a tingling sensation starting from her cheek, which turned into a fuzzy interesting tug in her body and she only gave a “A little harder” as Erik lightly lifted his hand again and brought it down on her back again.

The sound of the slap went through the room, louder than before and a gasp escaped her, it was what she wanted, the tingling, a surface that would go numb with more slaps, an excited pull in her abdomen and her fingers clinging to the ceiling.

Erik seemed to have seen her reaction exactly when he immediately repeated the slap with roughly the same firmness and her panting mixed with a moan with each further slap, “You take it so well sweetie” he praised her.

After a few slaps let his hand run over the red spot, giving her the moment to recover from it, the stinging pain, the slight numbness and also Erik taking in the beauty he had in front of him.

She noticed the bulge in his black boxer shorts, “You're reacting to it” his girlfriend said as she found her words again and her gaze went to his bulge, which he only returned with a grin as he slowly lay down on the bed.

She slowly straightened up and settled on his clothed midsection, Erik's hands gripping her hips and she felt him press lightly against her, the almost exasperated sigh coming from his lips as she engaged him in another kiss.

“We still have plenty of time...show me what your tongue can do” she said this as she saw his grin when they both knew that they had taken their relationship to a new level thanks to a garbage truck.

As Erik spun her around in one motion and she lay beneath him, his lips parting hers, he began kissing his way down her naked torso.

The bites and caresses made her bury her hands in his dark hair as she let him know whenever he did something particularly well, “You seem to like my hands,” he commented as he took off her underwear and felt her wetness on his fingers as he ran them over her center.

Her giggle was shared as his 'wonder hands' spread her thighs slightly and she let out a sigh as she felt his tongue, she heard his almost smile as he sucked on her nerve spot and her wince only made Erik grip her thighs a little tighter.

The room that had previously been filled with the sound of slapping became filled with the licking and sucking sounds of Erik's head disappearing between her thighs, her gasps and moans whenever Erik teased her clitoris with his tongue.

Two bodies, one of which reared up and shook slightly when she could barely stand the waves of arousal and Erik's hips rubbed against the blanket and mattress to relieve his own arousal.

The aroused looks they exchanged, both of them dazed with lust, had seen nothing more beautiful as Erik heard her cries and her thighs wrapped around his head, his muffled grunts as he came and both heavy breathing came down from their high.

Exhausted and woolly, she heard Erik move closer to her, wrap his arm loosely around her and gently kiss her, “I must make out with garbage trucks more often ” she heard his comment and they both cuddled up, sharing a smile. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@nearest-x-dearest , @captainthomasrobbie , @monkeydoll5 , @zombiepoe , @starry-eyed-wild-child , @porterroths , @amandalove1355 , @mythicalcowboyatheart , @rhaenyrathecruell , @aashy723 , @luluscoff1n , @fapqueen , @sadslasher13 , @everdxen-mellark , @yearsbecomingcool

[kayharrisons]

Caught up in a moment, lipstick on your face [Erik Campbell x Fem!Reader] [18+]

Erik Campbell has escaped death - narrowly.

So, naturally, his first pit stop on the way home is to the first dive bar that crosses his path.

The dive bar where you just so happen to be working that night.

His ex girlfriend. The woman he never got over.

The one that got away.

A/N: ok I know I said I wanted to get my other works out first but I just saw FD6 and 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️ I'm in love with Erik RICHARD HARMON I'VE LOVED YOU SINCE THE MURPHY DAYS anyway have this lil oneshot!!! Happy FD6 release day (note: it was release day when I started writing this LMAOOOO)!!

Warnings: fire mentions, injuries, drinking, smoking, death mentions, making out, thigh riding ehehe, piercings ;) , use of the word cunt and whathaveyou, lot of swearing from our boy LMAO, spoilers for FD6!

Minors dni!

Heat still licks at his skin.

The fire that could have killed him, should have killed him, is looming over him like a frigid chill. Ironic, he knows, but the goosebumps all over his entire fucking body speak for themselves.

If he'd worn one of his band shirts, or literally any-fucking-thing else, he'd be dead.

Lucky, the fire fighters had called him.

Erik prefers invincible.

He certainly felt it, in that moment.

Relief, yes. Smug at his cousin's theory being a big fat wrong-o, most definitely. Still jittery with nerves after literally falling into fucking fire, being branded and almost having his sweet as hell piercing ripped out, absofuckinglutely.

"Get ahold of yourself, Campbell," he breathes, laughing to himself as he trudges away from the smoked husk that was once his livelihood. Boss'd be pissed, but fuck him, he left him to lock up when he wanted to go home, grieve his father and drink himself into a fucking nice long sleep.

Yeah, fuck him.

Ri-fucking-p that sweet leather jacket too, by the way.

Saved him, sure, but god at what cost?

He should go home. Should change out of the ratty band shirt that is a few sizes too big and had been left in the lost and found box at work. Should cling onto his family tight and laugh at his luck.

He doesn't.

His feet, he finds, take him on a fun little detour, boots clomping against the pavement in a rhythm that's oddly soothing, like that of a heartbeat.

He's alive. He's alive. His heart is very much still beating, air is still flooding his lungs.

Take that death, motherfucker that you are.

A lamp-post sparks above him, and he flinches back with surprise, blinking at the light as it flickers weakly and then sputters to a dim end.

He holds up his hands, whistling low. "My fucking bad, dude. Jesus, can't even keep my thoughts to myself now?"

A pause.

"I'm not like grammy. Not gonna start that shit and yabber to the fuckin' walls. Fuck you."

That's all he has to say on the matter before he continues down the sidewalk, flipping the bird to the lamp-post as he saunters on down the street.

He shoves his hands in his pockets, kicking a loose pebble and watching it skip across the sidewalk as it would upon the flat calm reflection of a lake.

It's strange, wandering with no sense of purpose. Well, beyond heading home, but he knows that won't be his first stop of the evening.

It's just a matter of what catches his interest on his way there.

Initially, he debates stopping in at 7/11, debates grabbing himself some seriously unhealthy chips and an obnoxiously large slurpee that'll give him an intense as shit brain freeze and make him wish he was dead.

Ha.

But his feet pull him past 7/11, away from cherry syrup and fake cheese covered nachos.

They instead pull him to the end of the street, where the street corner diagonal from him is dimly lit red by one large sign;

BAR

Erik's lips curve up into a toothy, wide grin.

You take the last drag of your cigarette, tilting your head back against cool brick and watching the smoke curl from your lips and fade into the stars above you.

It's been a long night, so far.

Some firefighters had stopped in earlier after their shift, talking about the shitty tattoo shop a few blocks away that had burned down, about the poor man that had only lived by the skin of his teeth.

Or, rather, the leather of his jacket.

You can't help but think of Erik, wondering if it was his shitty tattoo place that had burned, if he was the one who had been inches from death.

No, you decide, flicking your cigarette butt into the trash.

Can't have been his.

Or else he'd have sauntered in here by now, would've taken the best seat at the bar and asked for your shittiest beer all the while staring down your shirt at your cleavage.

Or, well, that's what your boyfriend would've done.

You haven't seen him in a few months. Not since your last argument, your last screaming match post break up that was fucking Oscar or Emmy worthy.

You'd fucked him that night.

Because of fucking course you had.

You don't know what it is about Erik, even at his worst, or more terrifyingly his best, you would crawl back to him and beg him to fuck you like a goddamn bitch in heat.

The man melts your damn brain.

You can't help but wonder if he used one of those damn tattoo guns to etch himself deep beneath your skin, if he's penned himself into your bone marrow; the deepest and most intimate parts of you certainly feel like he has.

With a sigh, you push yourself off the wall, smoothing down your black shirt, your miniskirt, before heading back into the bar.

The juxtaposition of the sweet silence of your alleyway compared to the deafening dad rock of the bar is jarring.

You feel the beginnings of a headache, as you always do when coming back into work. It nips at your temples, the base of your skull. But it will pass, as it always does once you readjust to the noise level.

"You blow through a whole pack out there or something?" Todd asks you as he pours whiskey over ice, giving you side eye as you tie your apron back around your waist.

"Debated it," you hum, tying the ties in front of you in a neat little bow. "Why, you get a hoard when I dipped?"

Judging by the fact that there's only one guy at the bar and the tables are half empty... you're gonna go with a big fat nope.

"Just don't pull bullshit like that again, alright?" Todd scowls, to which you smile angelically back at him before turning around with a roll of your eyes as you start to polish glasses.

Fucking Todd.

You aggressively wipe at a smudge in a martini glass. Fucking Todd and his inability to clean his damn fingers before he touches glasses. Fucking Todd who's worked here not even a year and he thinks he owns the place. Fucking-

"Polish that any harder and you're gonna break it," comes a sing song voice from the end of the bar.

Your head whips around so fast it's a wonder you don't give yourself whiplash.

Erik is sat at his usual seat, elbows leaning against the bartop and expertly dodging any sticky patches. His hands are clasped in front of him, and you follow them up to his wrists, then his left forearm, which now boasts a piece of gauze likely covering a new tattoo.

"Doodling on yourself again, are we?" you ask, arching a brow as you instinctively reach for the shittiest lager you guys have on tap. Just the way he likes it.

"Less doodle, more memoriam," he shrugs, taking a swig from the pint with a content sigh and smack of his lips.

Your expression softens, any venom and fight leaving you within an instant, "I heard about your dad," you frown, reaching over and settling your hand atop his. "I'm really sorry, Erik. He was a great guy-"

"You believe in fate?" he blurts out, those icy blue eyes of his locked onto yours. You feel as though you're stood on thin ice, watching your breath in the air as you wait for it to shatter and pull you beneath and into the freezing depths. "Coincidences? Luck? Any of that bullshit?"

"Like... step on a crack, break your mother's back? That kind of thing?" you clarify, furrowing your brow.

Erik clicks his tongue a little. "No, not quite. Just... fate, like I said. Say every member of your family died a horrific death by the time they were twenty-seven-"

"Morbid."

"My dad got his face mown finer than the damn grass on the fourth of July, literally fuck off. Anyway... they all die by the time you're twenty-seven, but you live past your twenty-eighth birthday... what would you call that?"

You purse your lips in thought, considering your ex a moment as you lean against the bar. His eyes drift down your throat, glimpsing at your cleavage before flicking back up to your face.

"Luck, maybe," you concede, tilting your head. "Divine intervention, maybe."

Erik barks out a laugh, spraying some foam from his lager across the sticky bar. You scrunch up your nose, grabbing a rag to start cleaning.

"Fuck, sorry, babe, just... kind of riding on a high," he explains, pushing his dark hair out of his face, setting his glass down on one of the beer mats.

You'd instilled that into him during the early days of your relationship, ranting about customers who never had the goddamn thought to use the little mats.

Erik, at least when you'd dated him, had never set a drink on the bar.

You arch a brow as he leans in, his smile wide again. "I feel kind of fuckin' invincible right now. Legit on the greatest high of my life."

"Are you high?" you ask, giving him a quick once over.

"What? No. Do I look edible induced to you?"

You grumble your agreement that no, he does not.

"The tattoo parlour burned down," he informs you, casually, as if it's a completely normal thing to drop mid conversation.

Your heart stops in your chest, even if only briefly.

"Erik! Jesus Christ- are you okay-?"

"Fucking obviously, babe. Look at me, not a scratch on me- oh! Telling a lie, I did get this sick branding-"

He moves to lift up the gauze, and you wave him off. "Fuck- no, no. Don't wanna see that, you freak. Cover it back up, slut."

"How is this slutty?" he asks, bewildered, as he waves his left arm around. "In what universe is this slutty?"

"It's you," comes your flat remark. "You once humped a mailbox and asked if she was a good girl."

"...so?"

"You can make anything slutty, if you try hard enough." you say, tutting at him.

Erik considers you a moment, before his lips curl up into a devious smile. Like that of the Cheshire Cat.

You point a threatening finger at him. "Not an invitation, Campbell."

"Not even a little bit?" he asks, batting his lashes.

You hate that it's working.

"No."

"Boo." he pouts, before taking another sip of his lager. "...I almost died tonight," comes his soft admission, eyes glued to the tiny bubbles in his lager. "Literally was on fire. If I hadn't worn that damn leather jacket then... Jesus, I'd be right alongside my ole pops some time next week."

You reach out again, fingers gentle as they rest upon his.

He exhales, shakily, eyes flickering up to meet yours. "I almost died."

"But you didn't," you remind him, thumb gentle as it rubs back and forth along his knuckles.

"No," he agrees, voice softening in that way it always does with you. The same tone that turns your insides into mush. "I didn't."

And with that, he leans over the bar and kisses you.

You startle, lips tingling even as you lean back. "Erik!" you chide, shakily. "This is- we're broken up, we can't keep doing this. It super goes against what being broken up means-"

"Our break up," Erik breathes, eyes glued to your lips as if hypnotised. "Our rules."

That's all it takes to convince you.

It never does take much, when it comes to one Erik Campbell.

"Smoke break!" you bark out to Todd, as you toss your apron aside and dash out from the bar, grabbing Erik's t-shirt and pulling him along behind you.

"Fucking AGAIN?!" you hear Todd cry out indignantly behind you as the door closes, which you pay no mind to.

Erik has you pressed up against the cool brick wall in seconds, your face cradled in his palms as he slams his lips against yours.

You moan at the sensation, at the familiar feel of his hands, of his mouth.

His tongue pushes past yours without a second thought, in no mood to play fight for dominance. No, tonight, he's the one in control.

You slide your fingers beneath his tee, fingers lightly scraping up his chest, tracing designs of familiar tattoos that are burned into your memories.

You wonder if he's gotten anymore recently. It's tempting to rip that shirt off and find out.

But you control yourself, for now. Though your fingers do creep up his chest, lightly brushing over the piercings in his nipples.

Erik groans deep into your mouth, the sound reverberating in your mouth and straight down to your cunt which pulses with want.

You whimper, your hips bucking instinctively. You want him so badly it fucking aches between your legs, your underwear flooding with warmth as you think of his rock hard length filling you up. As you think of that damned piercing he got whilst drunk, and how it feels so fucking good when he-

Erik shifts, sticking his thigh between your legs. "C'mon, baby," he pants against your mouth, hands moving from your face and down your body. His fingers trail fire in their wake, leaving you feeling as though your skin is burning. His digits only briefly linger over your breasts before continuing southward and finally settling on your hips. Gently, he moves you forwards upon his thigh, and then back, then forwards again. "Be good and ride it for me, yeah? C'mon, sweetheart-"

You whimper again, and do as you're told. It doesn't take much more coaxing from Erik before you're leisurely rubbing yourself up and down his thigh. Your panties are a fucking mess already, and you know for a fact that Erik's jeans are going to follow suit soon. "I've missed you," you admit, eyelids heavy as you pick up the pace, grinding harder against his thigh as that ever familiar delicious ache begins to build.

"Missed you too," he murmurs, leaning forward and tipping his forehead against yours. Your noses brush with every desperate grind of your hips against his thigh, and his breath is heavy against your skin. "Fuck- didn't realise just how bad until-" he cuts himself off as he surges down, pressing a heavy kiss to your lips.

Your fingers reach up and tangle in his hair, holding him closer as you move faster, and faster and oh god yes you canfuckingfeelityou'resofuckingclose-

"Dude your smoke break is going on a little lo-OH MY GOD-"

Both your heads snap in the direction of a wide eyed Todd, who is averting his eyes from the pair of you.

"FUCK OFF TODD!" comes your joint yell, to which Todd does, in fact, fuck off, stumbling as he shields his eyes and returns inside.

All the while you are still grinding against Erik's leg, desperately chasing your release. It crashes over you just as the door slams shut, and you cry out softly as you come against Erik's thigh, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your hips.

Like you said; the man practically reduces you to a bitch in heat.

You pant softly as you come down from your high, leaning your forehead against Erik's shoulder as he noses at your hair, pressing kisses to your temple and forehead.

"...that'll teach him to fucking knock, huh?"

"We're outside, dumbass." you can't help but laugh, swatting at his chest.

"Dumbass that you just came all over," Erik sing songs, nothing but smug pride in his tone.

You lean back a little, eyes dancing over his face with a little smile. You could have lost him. You haven't been together in months and yet... the thought fills you with a terror you've never quite experienced before.

You've never not been in love with him.

"...I'm glad you're okay." you say softly, brushing his hair out of his face.

Erik nods, turning his head and pressing a kiss to your palm. His lips linger, his eyes flutter shut as he takes a minute.

Takes a minute to soak it all in, to soak you in. To think about whatche could've left behind, had the fire killed him.

But it hadn't.

And standing out here with you? Your slick heavy against his jeans, the smell of your perfume lingering in his nostrils, your warm touch...

If he thought surviving a fire made him feel invincible...

You make him feel infinite. Immortal. Everlasting. Untouchable.

"Yeah," he agrees, pressing another kiss to your palm. "Me too."

[slashire]

private sessions

Summary: it's late at night, and you are waiting for Erik in the alley behind his work to see him...or maybe you have other reasons why you're there. He doesn't complain anyways when he gets you to himself.

Erik Campbell x fem!reader

Notes / Warning: 18+, rough makeout, oral (m and f receiving), semi public, dom!erik, cursing. That's about all.

words:2667

The alley behind the tattoo shop was narrow and dim, framed by worn red brick, with a busted neon sign flickering faintly above the service door. The sharp buzz of an air conditioner vibrated from an upper floor window, and the faint scent of rubbing alcohol and ink still lingered from inside. A busted light overhead cast a sickly yellow glow across the pavement, making the whole place look like the kind of spot people were warned to stay away from. Which is exactly why you were there. Leaning back against the wall, boot propped up behind you, arms crossed, you waited.

Then the door creaked open. Heavy boots hit pavement. A familiar silhouette stepped into view, hoodie sleeves shoved up, jaw clenched like it always was after a long night of needles and back-to-back clients.

He pulled the door closed behind him with a sharp click and turned, his head tilted slightly when he saw you, but he didn't flinch, didn't pause. Just smirked.

“You stalking me again?”

“What can't I just stand here?” you shrugged. “It's cooler back here.”

He glanced down the alley once, then back at you with that flat, unreadable gaze, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a grin. “Hope you're not expecting anything romantic. I've still got ink on my hands.” 

You stepped off the wall, slow and deliberate. “Good. I didn't come for roses and soft lighting.”

Erik scoffed, rolling his shoulder. His hoodie pulled tight across his arms, inked skin, toned but lean, dusted with old bruises and fresh smudge from work.

“You always dress like this when you're trying to distract me?” he asked, voice low, eyes dragging from your boots up to the exposed skin under your cropped jacket.

“Who's distracted?” you stepped closer, until the toe of your boot touched his. “I just wanted to see what you look like after you've spent six hours putting art on strangers.”

He tilted his head slightly, gaze not leaving yours. “And?” 

You ran your tongue along your bottom lip. “You look like someone who needs to blow off steam.”

He dropped the cigarette behind him without lighting it. One step forward, then another, until your back hits the wall with a soft thud. His hands came up, not touching yet, just braced against the brick on either side of your head. 

“Yeah?” he murmured, voice lower now, breath brushing your lips. “And what exactly do you think i'm gonna do about that?”

You responded by taking the first move. You gripped the front of his hoodie and yanked him forward, mouths colliding in a kiss that was all teeth, lips, heat. He didn't hesitate, didn't waste time. His hands dropped to your hips, fingers digging in as he pulled your body flush against his. His mouth tasted like spearmint gum and cheap coffee. You gasped when his teeth grazed your bottom lip and he took the opening, tongue sliding against yours, aggressive and confident.

The sound you made earned a sharp inhale from him, and then his hands were slipping under your shirt, palms dragging up your sides, rough and hot against your skin. The metal of his rings were cold and jarring in the best way. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him growl softly against your mouth. He pushed you harder into the wall, thigh slotting between yours like he belonged there.

“Been thinking about this,” he uttered between kisses, lips brushing your jaw, yout neck, back to your mouth. “Every goddamn time you walk past the shop like you're not looking in on purpose.”

“And you always stare.” you whispered, breath catching when his teeth scraped your throat.

“Because you wear shit like this,” he said against your skin, hand sliding down your thigh, under the hem of your skirt. “Like you want me to grab you.” 

“I do.”

He groaned, kissing you harder this time, messier, deeper. The kind of kiss that left your lips bruised and breath ragged. The kind that wasn't a question, but a statement. You grinded against his thigh, nails digging into his shoulder through the fabric, and he laughed low in his chest, cocky and hot.

“You're trouble,” he muttered, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “And I don't even care.”

“Good,” you breathed, “because I'm not stopping.”

His hand slid between your thighs again, up, over, possessive. Not tender. He kissed you again, and it was like he was claiming your mouth, his tongue dominating yours, his hand gripping your body like he wanted to leave fingerprints.

Like he wanted proof, physical evidence that he'd had you right there, pinned to cold brick with the world disappearing around the edges. And the way his fingers spread low on your hips, sliding down to grab the back of your thighs, said he didn't care if you bruised from it.

You let out a low breath when he hoisted one of your legs up, anchoring it against his hip. The movement slammed you back against the wall with more force than finesse, the edge of rough concrete biting into your spine through your clothes. You didn't flinch, you liked the bite. Liked the way he manhandled you like a problem he intended to solve with his mouth.

He ground into you slowly, deliberately, letting you feel the outline of him through tight denim. You inhaled sharply at the pressure and he caught the sound with his mouth, swallowed it in a deep, possessive kiss, his tongue curling past your lips like he owned your next breath.

You barely had time to react before his hand slid up under your shirt, skin to skin now, his palm skating over your ribs, fingertips dragging just beneath your bra. His touch was rough, confident, not hesitant in the slightest.

“You're warm,” he muttered against your mouth, voice frayed. “Like fuckin’ fire under here.”

You smirked against his lips, biting his bottom one just hard enough to make him grunt. “Then touch me like you mean it, before you get burned.”

He dropped one hand to your throat, not choking, just holding, controlling, fingers resting beneath your jaw like he was testing how fast your pulse was racing for him. You felt the weight of his rings, the drag of calloused fingers, the scape of his nails as he tilted your chin up and kissed you again, slower now, the kind of kiss that stole your balance.

Your back arched slightly as his free hand pushed your shirt higher. Knuckles grazing the curve of your chest. He didn't say a word, just dragged his thumb along the edge of your bra like he was debating whether to rip it or work around it.

The heat between your bodies climbed fast, oppressive in the best way. You could feel the slight grind of his hips with every kiss, his thigh pressing tight between yours, the alley wall behind you doing nothing to cool the burn building low in your stomach.

His lips ghosted along your jaw, down your neck, stopping to suck hard just beneath your ear. You hissed and clutched the back of his hoodie tighter, dragging your nails down the back of his neck until he groaned into your skin.

“Fuck,” he breathed, voice rough. “I should take you inside.”

You shoved him lightly with a grin. “And miss getting felt up in an alley like a bad decision?”

His eyes flashed, and for once, that smirk of his turned sharp. “You're worse than I thought.”

Then he pushed your leg higher on his hip and pressed into you harder, just enough to make your breath hitch, to make your thighs clench around him. His hand dragged down your body again, slipping under your skirt now, knuckled trailing up the inside of your thigh.

“You're soaked,” he muttered, half in awe, half smug. “You like this way too much.”

“So do you.” you whispered, arching into his touch.

His mouth slammed back onto yours, kiss turning frantic again, messy, open mouthed, the kind that left both of you breathless and wanting more. You could taste the heat on his tongue, the faint salt on his neck, the tobacco clinging to his skin even though he never lit the cigarette.

The alley faded. The night blurred. All you could hear was the slap of hands on skin, the soft grunt of his breathing, the drag of clothes shifting and mouths moving too fast to care. There was nothing sweet about it. It was hunger. Pressure. Lust laced with recklessness. And you were going to let him take whatever he wanted, right here, right now, until both of you were marked up and ruined for anyone else.

His fingers curled tight around your thigh, pushing the fabric of your skirt up higher with not subtly whatsoever. The concrete at your back scraped with every movement, but the sting was nothing compared to the burn between your legs as Erik pressed his hips fully into yours, letting you feel exactly what kind of effect you were having on him.

And fuck, he was hard. Very hard.

“Christ,” he muttered against your neck, biting down just enough to make you gasp. “You gonna let me keep doing this out here like a fuckin’ delinquent, or are you gonna tell me to stop?”

“Do I look like I'm telling you to stop?”

His hand slipped up, two fingers rubbing over the damp fabric of your panties, slow, testing, smug. “Not even close.”

You spread your legs wider, giving him room without needing to say a word. His knuckles dragged your underwear to the side with a practiced flick of his fingers, and he growled under his breath when he found you bare and slick beneath.

“God damn.” His voice was quiet, but sharp, hungry. “You're really soaked for me huh?”

You barely managed a nod before one thick finger slid between your folds, teasing just enough to drive you crazy but not enough to satisfy. His thumb pressed against your clit while he kissed you again, deep, greedy, like he needed your mouth to stay occupied while he worked you open.

You bit his lip this time, tugging, grinding down against his hand. “What, you tattoo people all day and don't use your hands for this?”

He chuckled, sliding a finger inside you slowly, knuckle deep. “I use ‘em for a lot more than art, babe.”

 A second finger followed with little resistance, and you let your head fall back against the wall as he curled them just right. Your hips bucked up into him, moaning softly, half lost in the feeling of his thumb circling your clit while those long, inked fingers thrust in and out with building pace. Erik watched your face while he worked you like he wanted to see the exact moment your control snapped. 

“Louder,” he muttered. “You wanna act like a tease, you better be willing to let someone hear what i'm doing to you.”

You whimpered when he thrust his fingers deeper, the heel of his palm grinding hard against your clit now. Your legs trembled, your nails scraping down the fabric of his hoodie, grabbing at the waistband of his jeans as your orgasm coiled hot and fast in your gut.

“I'm close,” you breathed, voice cracking. “Fuck, Erik-”

“Then cum,” he whispered, voice sharp against your ear. “Right here. Right now.”

You came hard around his fingers, biting your lip to keep from crying out too loud, your thighs trembling against his hips as he kept his hand moving until you were twitching and squirming. 

He pulled back slowly, slipping his fingers out and sliding them past his lips with a grin that was pure sin. He sucked them clean like he wanted to watch you squirm.

“You taste just as good as I figured,” he said, licking the corner of his mouth. Still dazed, you pushed off the wall and sank to your knees on the cold pavement without hesitation, not caring about the dirty concrete digging into your skin. Your eyes stayed locked on his, smug, as your fingers made quick work of his belt, leather sliding through the loops with a snap. The sound echoed just faintly in the alley, mixing with the faint buzz of a far off streetlamp and the pulse hammering in your ears.

His brows shot up. “Oh. That's how this is going?”

You nodded slowly, hands already on his belt. “You got yours,” you said, glancing up at him through your lashes. “Now I want mine.”

Erik didn't move, didn't say another word. He just watched you with that sharp, unreadable expression, jaw clenched, lips parted slightly, chest rising with tight control. But when you tugged his jeans down just enough to free him, already hard, thick, and flushed, he let out a breath that sounded more like a growl.

“Shit.” 

You smirked. “Still think I came out here to ‘stalk’ you?”

He chuckled low, almost breathless. “Im starting to think youre the best fuckin’ idea ive had in weeks.”

You wrapped your hand around him, firm grip, slow stroke, just to tease. He was hot in your palm, already twitching with need. You leaned in, licking up the length with one long drag of your tongue, watching his head tip back as a low groan escaped his throat.

Then you took him into your mouth, slow at first, tongue swirling, lips slick and tight. Careful around his piercing. Erik hissed a curse through his teeth, one hand instantly tangling in your hair, the other braced against the wall behind you.

“Fucking hell-”

You set a rhythm, deep, steady, wet, and he started moving with you, hips rocking forward in sharp, shallow thrusts. His grip in your hair tightens, guiding you, controlling just how deep you went, how fast you swallowed him down.

“Just like that,” he grunted, his voice rough and raw. “Fuck, you look good like this…”

You moaned around him on purpose, feeling the way it made his thighs tense. He was close already, his breathing was uneven, the curses coming faster, lower. “God.. your fuckin’ mouth,” he muttered. “Gonna make me lose it if you don't stop-”

But you didn't stop. You sucked harder, went deeper, letting your throat tighten just enough to make his knees buckle slightly. He bit down a sharp groan and slammed his palm against the wall in front of him.

“Jesus…fuck-”

With a broken sound buried in his throat, hips jerking forward, one last ragged gasp spilling from his lips, Erik came hard down your throat, holding you there, every muscle in his body tense and twitching. You swallowed every drop, slow and smooth, then pulled back with a pop of your lips, mouth swollen, chin wet, smirking like you'd just won a bet. Erik stared down at you, chest rising fast, hoodie pushed up on one side, sweat beading at his temple despite the cold.

“Goddamn,” he breathed. “Youre gonna be a fucking problem.”

You stood, fixing your skirt like nothing happened, brushing off your knees. “Only if you're lucky.”

He zipped up, still catching his breath, still trying to school the look on his face.

“Round two?” he asked, eyes scanning you head to toe like he was already undressing you again. “Or you just planning to walk off after that like a damn thief in the night?”

You arched a brow. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“If you're done working…or I should come back for a private session.”

His smile turned wicked. “Door’ll be unlocked."

[x-prettyboy-x]

Fanfic request

I’m obsessed with the idea of Erik having a “mini me”. Like you and Erik have a son (like 5 ish) and he wants to be just like his dad. He is begging Erik to have his ears pierced, and asking for “tattoos” (Erik uses the tattoo stencil and replaces the needle tip with a pen in his gun). And during family cookouts your son is standing next to Erik holding a root beer to match Erik’s real beer. Erik would be such and softly, but also cocky because of course his son would want to be like him he is so cool!

Little Man

Im so sorry its taking me so long to get to requests loves, I've been editing and binge watching shows😭im still here i swear. Anyway, I adore this request. This is so damn cute, I kinda based this on my 3 year old brother who's obsessed with getting "tattoos"

Pairing: Erik Campbell x Fem! Reader

Contents: Eriks son wanting nothing more than to be just like him✨️

Warnings: none

Wc; 1k

Masterlist

You were terrified when the pregnancy test came up positive. Not that you weren't excited, or that you didnt want a baby. You and Erik have been together for nearly 3 years now, you just didnt know how Erik would react.

But now, as you stood in your kitchen watching Erik with your now 5 year old son in the living room, you knew you had no reason to be. He was born looking just like you, but he wanted nothing more than to be just like Erik. And who could blame him? He has the coolest dad in the world.

You smiled to yourself and walked over to the two of them, sitting by Erik and watching your son play with his many toys he had thrown across the floor.

"Our son wants his ears pierced" Erik smiled, looking over at you with that cocky look he always had. He knew he was the cool dad, and it had his ego through the roof.

"Mm. So it begins" you rolled your eyes playfully, holding your arms out as the little boy looked away from his toys and walked over to you. You scooped him up into your arms carefully.

"Mama, please? Daddy could do it." He gave you those puppy dog eyes you could almost never say no to. Almost.

"Absolutely not, when you're a little older, we'll talk about it again, yeah? Don't let daddy get you in trouble"

-

After you had the baby, the Campbell family cookouts became alot more regular, everyone wanting to see the new family member as often as they could.

"Cmon handsome boy, you need to get your shoes on so we can go see grandma and grandpa!" You called up the stairs, holding the small pair of black converse sneakers in your hand.

You waited for a few seconds, sighing to yourself when a response never came, nor the tell-tale sound of those little footsteps on the wood floor. You walked upstairs and checked his room, empty.

"Erik?" You called out, panic starting to make its way through your body, but it quickly subsided as you heard Eriks voice call back, "In here baby!"

You walked off towards you and Eriks room, your son running out before you reached the door, the little boy smiling from ear to ear, "Daddy gave me a tattoo!"

"Daddy what?" You laughed, looking up as Erik leaned in the doorway.

Your son rolled up his sleeves, several small "tattoos" all over his arms, some of them copies of Eriks own. You could tell from the look of them that Erik had just drawn them up and put the stencil onto the boys skin, nothing permanent.

"Thats so cool bub! You look just like daddy, huh?" You smiled, watching Erik come up behind him and scoop him up into his arms.

"Its only fair. He's practically your twin, he should at least have my style." He wrapped his arm that wasn't holding your son around your waist, pulling you close to place a quick kiss to your lips. "Also I may or may not have broke and promised to pierce his ears"

"Erik Campbell!" You groaned, slapping his shoulder. He laughed and moved away, "Oh cmon! It's the easiest piercing ever, and I'll be the one doing it! Im the best person for the job."

"Erik hes too young for.." you trailed off as you saw the look on your son's face, like his little heart would break if you said no again. You sighed and nodded your head quickly "Fine, fine."

"One point for the boys, up top little man!" Erik smiled, holding up his hand and you watched your son high five him with a laugh.

Eriks smile faltered slightly when he looked at you and saw the look on your face, the way your arms were crossed "Hey, baby.. cmon"

You hummed "You can enjoy the couch tonight." You weren't serious, and he knew that. "Now let's go before your parents start calling me asking where their grandson is."

-

You watched your two boys from across the yard, Julia to your left looking at them with just as much amusement as you.

"Its like you made an exact copy of my brother.." she spoke up first, scoffing quietly under her breath.

"But they're so cute though. And Erik loves it. He was nervous about being a dad at first but he's a natural."

Across the yard, Erik was standing talking to his dad, a beer in his hand, his other handing waving around way too much as he spoke with his hands, completely oblivious to the cuteness happening by his side.

Your son was studying his dad, watching his every move. He stood just like him, taking a sip from his "beer"- A root beer in a glass bottle -every time Erik did, mocking the movement of his hands.

"Yeah, its cute now. Until he hits 16 and he shows up with 3 new piercings and a tattoo because Erik cant tell him no." Julia laughed, shaking her head

"Well. As long as he got them from Erik, I'd be fine with it. Erik wouldnt let him do anything too stupid. I hope so anyway."

-

It was late, your son long tucked away in bed. He'd been exhausted when you got back from the Campbell family house, he'd practically fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

You were laying on Eriks chest, showing him videos you'd gotten of them at the cookout without either of them noticing

"He's practically studying you, Erik. That boy adores you." You spoke softly, smiling lightly as you watched the videos back

"Hes perfect, isn't he? Hes the best thing I've ever done.. and here I was scared to screw him up."

You hummed and put your phone down, turning over to rest your chin on his chest, looking up at him "You're the perfect dad, baby. Just like I knew you'd be."

"Yeah? That means we can have another one now? I still owe you a little girl, dont I? You said we'd talk about it again when he was at least 4. We're beyond that point sooo.." He tilted his head at you with that telling look. That look you could never say no to.

"I guess it wouldnt hurt to try, hm?"

[sundrop-writes]

Hii can I request some basic relationship HC’s for Erik Campbell x Fem hair stylist reader(specifically a color specialist) that has a similar alternative style to his? It’s okay if you can’t or dont want to and sorry I don’t really know how to request😭

I love this concept so much omg. I am just so downbad for Erik, and like I said - I am prioritising requests related to him (an Erik pwp has been calling my name, but the right concept has not struck me yet. so if anybody has an idea for one, send it my way)

anyway, here we go

ALSO I got carried away and the beginning of this turned into a whole detailed 'how they met' fic, so like... idk if that's a good thing or not. lmao. I just love him and this is technically my first time writing for him and I had a good time

Headcanons for Erik Campbell dating an Alternative Hairstylist (Erik Campbell from Final Destination: Bloodlines x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: reader uses she/her pronouns and is generally described as a 'woman'; mentions of the reader having a non-natural coloured hair (but the reader's hair texture is never described, as to not insist upon her race); there is also mentions of the reader having tattoos and piercings and wearing 'alt' clothing; mentions of the reader being cheated on by a man who is not Erik; there is sexual themes in this, but no explicit smut - though I will do Erik smut/kink headcanons if prompted; mentions of Erik giving the reader more than one tattoo; mentions of Erik's family being judgemental toward the reader. I think that's it for this. This fic does not contain any spoilers for the film, so if you haven't seen it yet and you want to, this will not spoil it for you.

...

Erik would have never called the start of your relationship a Meet-Cute. In fact, it was quite literally the opposite. It was more like... a Meet-Bitch. A Meet-Hell. Okay - he was no good with words, and he had no clue what the hell the opposite of a Meet-Cute would be.

But he loved looking back on the day he had met you, because it was one of the best days of his life.

He had been working the shop by himself. It was a Tuesday afternoon, and who the hell comes in to get a tattoo or a piercing on a fucking Tuesday afternoon? Weekends are always the busiest for walk-ins, and his boss always booked appointments in advance for the evenings anyway. So on a Tuesday afternoon where the sun was shining brightly outside, seeping in through the glass storefront, reminding him of the gorgeous day that he was missing out on, Erik was drinking an iced coffee and listening to one of his playlists at a low hum while he worked on a sketch.

It wasn't anything fancy - just a skull with devil horns and a pentagram on the forehead with flames coming out of the eyes. A tattoo that he was considering giving to himself if he could pick a good place for it.

When you burst in through the front door, causing the bell overhead to ring, he was almost startled by your presence.

"Are you free?" You asked. He didn't noticed the trembling in your voice at first, the slight sniffle you gave that would have indicated you had been crying, and when he looked up at you, he honestly thought that the redness in your eyes was from you partaking in a mid-afternoon toke, and not due to crying.

But that redness was far from the first thing he noticed about you.

The first thing he had to notice about you was the fact that you were smoking hot. You had bright blue hair streaked with some jet black, done in a fancy style that said you definitely knew what you were doing. You were wearing skin-tight jeans that looked as though they had been painted onto your body, with a few rips in them revealing streaks of black and somewhat colourful ink underneath - definitely not the only tattoos you had on your body. Complete with a groomer belt that he easily pictured himself unbuckling...

You were wearing heavy combat boots and a tee shirt that said Puppet Master with a picture of some very weird white faced character on it that immediately made him curious. And your look was topped off by a lot of jewellery - bracelets, rings, and a lot of metal adorning your face and ears. Erik found himself immediately attracted to you, and he had no clue how long he stood there, staring without even saying a word.

"Hello?!" You screamed at him, giving another small sniffle. "I asked you a question!"

"Uh, yeah, I'm free." He replied. "What do you-?"

He was about to ask what you wanted done, and before he could, you muttered 'thank god' under your breath, and much to his shock, you reached to the hem of your shirt and proceeded to rip it over your head. His jaw nearly came unhinged as he watched you parade across the room in a black lace bra and immediately lay down on his table, quick to make yourself comfortable as if this was your twentieth session with him and the two of you weren't complete strangers.

"What do you want?" He asked, moving to approach the table, trying to maintain his professionalism despite the fact that his eyes kept migrating to your cleavage as you lounged on your back.

"I want to feel some damn pain." You huffed out. "Just - do whatever you want."

"You know, that's basically giving me license to draw dicks on you," He chuckled, attempting to make a joke.

Your only response was a tired huffed, and his stomach swirled when your lip quivered, and he quickly realised that you were holding back tears. He knew that it wasn't his responsibility to talk you out of it, especially because you already had so much ink and you clearly wouldn't regret it. It was his responsibility to give you something sick, and probably be a listening ear for whatever you needed to blow off.

He moved back to the desk and grabbed the notebook he had been drawing in, and brought it over to show you.

"What about this?" He posed, showing you the flaming skull.

You looked over, and in a moment, your sad eyes lit up.

"That is actually a wonderful summary of how I'm feeling right now." You told him. "Do me up, baby."

"You gonna tell me what fucked you up so badly?" Erik asked.

You let out a huff, and shook your head.

Naturally, you asked for the tattoo to be on your ribs - one of the most painful places to reflect the emotional pain that you were feeling. He wasn't surprised when you sat like a champ, barely showing any signs that you were in pain as he took the needle to your skin, inking in his design. He had to assume that the tears leaking from your eyes had to do with whatever was troubling you emotionally, and not the actual pain of the tattoo, because you seemingly ignored his presence altogether.

It was more than an hour into the session when Erik finally managed to get an answer out of you.

You only spoke up when a particular song came up on shuffle, Erik's playlist still coming out of the speakers at a moderate level. Your face twisted in disgust as LA Devotee by Panic! At The Disco started playing.

"Ugh, can you change this?" You asked, your eyes flickering over to the nearby speaker, as though trying to spite the sound waves coming at you. "This song just reminds me of my stupid - ugh. Would you mind?"

"You can change it." He told you. "Don't wanna touch my phone with the gloves on."

He gestured toward his phone, which was sitting on the edge of his instrument tray, and you didn't hesitate to reach out and grab it. After only a moment of looking at the screen, another song came on, and he was delighted by what you had chosen. So Long And Thanks For All The Booze by All Time Low started playing as you placed his phone down above your head, and you mumbled the lyrics under your breath.

"Break-up tattoo." He theorised aloud, noticing how more tears came to your eyes as you continued to quietly hum along to the song. "I never would have guessed you to be the type to get all heartbroken over a guy-"

"I'm not heartbroken." You barked, cutting him off. "I'm pissed off."

"Okay." He replied. "Usually those are the same thing."

You rolled your eyes.

"What happened?" He had to ask. When you remained silent, he added on: "Come on, it might make you feel better to tell someone about it."

You inhaled sharply through your nose, and then, for the first time since that morning when you had discovered the devastating news, you finally braved bringing the words to life.

"My boyfriend cheated on me." You said. Erik focused patiently on filling in the shading around the skull, not looking at you, giving you the room to speak more because you clearly needed it. "I was in Tulsa for the weekend doing a wedding - one of my regular clients was getting married, and she insisted that I be there-"

"Clients?" He prodded curiously.

"Yeah." You replied. "I do hair. Usually I'm just a colourist, but she wanted me to freshly colour it and style it for the day of her wedding. She wanted her signature look for her pictures."

That would explain why your hair was so nice.

Erik nodded, and focused back on the tattoo as you continued your story.

"Anyway - when I came back early this morning, I came into my apartment and found my boyfriend in bed with some fucking fried blond cocktail waitress... and she said that he told her we were broken up. Apparently he's had her there every late night I've worked for months. She must have been sniffing that Level 40 she uses, because all my stuff is still in that fucking apartment-"

"Sounds like he knows he's not good enough for you and he picked someone who's actually on his level." Erik commended mindlessly.

"I'm not paying you to be some armchair therapist. I'm paying you for the tattoo." You replied.

"Okay." Erik shrugged. "But, I do have to say..."

You gave him a glare as he continued, but as usual, he couldn't stop his mouth from crossing the boundaries that had been set.

"Any asshole that would fumble a hot girl like you is a total idiot. And if you're crying over him, he doesn't deserve it."

"Then what do you recommend, Doctor-?" It became apparent to you then that you didn't know the name of the hot tattoo artist that was currently inking you.

"Doctor Campbell." He winked, playing along with your bit. "But you can call me Erik."

You rolled your eyes at him. "I'm Y/N."

He wanted to make a comment about how he thought even your name was hot, but he didn't want to push it.

"And for the record, I would recommend - instead of wallowing in self pity, getting revenge." He told you, very determined.

"Revenge?" You questioned, raising a brow at him.

"Yeah." He replied, giving you a smirk. "If he's gonna fuck some 'fried blonde cocktail waitress', then you should fuck someone else as revenge. Maybe... a hot tattoo artist with a pierced dick?"

He didn't miss the way your eyes flickered down to the zipper of his jeans, clearly curious about his words.

"You're an asshole." You huffed quietly.

But still, after he had wrapped your new tattoo - which you loved, by the way - he ended up locking the front door and dropping the curtains so that he could show you that piercing. And you ended up riding his cock in the piercing chair.

Then, he escorted you back to your apartment so that he could help you throw all your boyfriends things into garbage bags - some of which you picked out to burn in his family's fire pit - and by the time your boyfriend returned, you had changed the locks, and all his things were in garbage bags in the hallway. And you were too busy showing Erik the fresh sheets you had put on the bed to even bother answering his screaming and banging on the door.

And that was just how the two of you met.

Your relationship from there was... everything. (And definitely a lot better than the relationship you had with your ex.)

After it healed, Erik quickly became obsessed with the flaming skull and how it looked on you. He took any opportunity possible to kiss it, rub his hands on it, even when you were wearing a shirt that covered it (which was a lot of the time), his hand would always migrate to sit right there on your ribs, possessive of the place where he had marked you right when the two of you had first met.

You knew one of the easiest ways to drive him insane was to wear a short crop top that revealed the tattoo to the world, showing off one of his greatest works. And whenever people asked about the amazing body art, you could easily point him and tell them 'my boyfriend did it'. It was a quick way to get creeps off your back if they were hitting on you, or just a way to brag about having him in your life. And whenever you said this, he was quick to throw an arm around your neck and take credit for the work with a smirk at whoever had been leering at your body.

It wasn't long into the relationship that the two of you got matching tattoos.

You both knew about the regret rate of couple tattoos and you knew it would be stupid to get each other's names or something like that - though often, if you annoyed him, Erik threatened to get his tattoo gun and etch his name into your skin so that you 'couldn't run away'. (He had no clue how much this turned you on, and how often you wanted to pull your pants down in the middle of the shop and let him paint his name across your asscheek, even if you might regret it later.)

But when you both knew that you wanted matching tattoos, you settled on something cheesy and simple - two halves of a broken heart, positioned above your thumbs so that it came together as one when you held hands. He did yours, and then strangely, even with no experience, he trusted you to do his - he guided you the whole way through it, and said that your 'delicate, steady hands' from hours of colouring hair would make you a natural.

(The edges turned out a bit wonky, the ink bleeding just a bit more than it should have, but he claimed that he loved it nonetheless.)

It wasn't long after that night that Erik finally let you talk him into colouring his hair. Previously, he was convinced that he might look dumb with brightly coloured hair, especially because he definitely wasn't going to let you die his beard, and he didn't want it to be mismatched.

But you picked a few tasteful streaks in the front, and after he spent some time enjoying your boobs dangling in front of his face because of how close you got during the process, he came out of the ordeal with some new bright red hair that looked absolutely badass on him. And he quickly became addicted to cycling through colours, trying them out to see how each would look on him.

Of course, this meant that the two of you ended up matching a few times. The first was when you were mixing up a batch of teal for yourself and claimed that you were simply using the leftovers on him. And though he said that he thought it was dorky - the picture of the two of you with your matching hair was one of his favourites, it remained as his phone lockscreen to this day.

Strangely, Erik's family didn't like you when they met you. At least not at first.

Even though they know and love Erik, they judged you when they met you based on your appearance. They had known Erik forever, and had more than enough of a chance to get to know him past his tattoos and piercings and his general grudgey attitude. They still knew him as the ten year old kid who wore a Ninja Turtles backpack to school.

But when they saw you - (sadly) they immediately thought you were mean. And due to your nerves about meeting his family, you were quiet, standing off to the side, crossing your arms - and they took this to believe that you were snobbish and bitchy, which truly didn't help with the first impression.

Bobby was the first one to come around to you. On the night that Erik had first brought you over to meet everyone, it wasn't going so well, and Erik suggested that you and his siblings hang out at the mall for a bit because his parents kept giving you odd glares and not-so-subtly whispering about you to each other.

He thought that you would better relate to his brother and sister. After an awkward walk through Sephora with sister where she talked about 'glowing skin' and compared shades of pink that you thought were the same and your jaw nearly dropped at the price of a single black eyeliner - while Bobby chewed him out over dating someone 'so cold and stuck-up', the three of you decided to go to the food court. The three siblings were the first to get their food and sit down, and Julia made a joke about how you had ditched them, right before you seemingly came out of no where and nearly tackled Bobby, smacking the corndog out of his hand.

It left an epic mess of mustard over the front of his shirt, and all Bobby, Julia, and Erik looked at you with intense confusion, questioning your sanity before you blurted out:

"Those are fried in peanut oil."

"No they're not!" Bobby quickly argued. "I've eaten stuff from there a dozen times! I think I would know-!"

You grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the kiosk, pointing to a small, barely visible sign that said 'Alert - Allergen Risk'. Apparently the brand had been bought out by a new parent company and switched all their products to being fried in peanut oil. When Erik relayed the story to their father, he went on a rant about how he should sue the company for not having a more visible alert of the allergen, and Bobby praised you as a hero.

He was the one to invite you to the next family dinner, and everyone started coming around to you after that.

Overall, Erik was a sweet, thoughtful boyfriend, even if he didn't always voice it and showed it through is actions instead. He loves you a lot, loves the way that the two of you are alike, and loves how you challenge him with your differences.

...

(Okay, I might have gotten carried away and lost the plot a bit, but I had so much fun with this. I need to write more about Erik so badly. If you enjoyed this, please check out the rest of my Horror Characters Masterlist - there is definitely gonna be more Erik Campbell on it soon. And feel free to request other horror characters that I might put on it too.)

[gennemi]

Hii,can I please get erik campbell x reader smut HC's <3

𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑲 𝑪𝑨𝑴𝑷𝑩𝑬𝑳𝑳 𝑺𝑴𝑼𝑻 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑺

A/N: this is my opinion with some of the stuff but I definitely see this man as a kinky little shit, but enjoy lovely! <333 I enjoyed making this!!! 

Warnings: smut, mentions of piercings (IYKYK), 18+ content, MDI! Mentions of different kinks, sweet soft aftercare, gender not said but can be seen as fem, doesn't matter!

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

. This man definitely knows what he's doing in bed, that's for sure. I definitely see him having a tongue piercing, cause why not? So when he eats HE EATS. The piercing definitely gives good stimulation. He eats like a man STARVED. 

. It doesn't matter the place, he will take his partner anywhere. At the tattoo shop he works at? Taking his partner  right there on the chair he does piercings at. He has no shame with it. 

. And that one piercing? Oh it definitely feels so good, adds to the pleasure he is giving to his partner. Hits that sweet spot every single time. Making his lover's toes curl from the added pleasure his piercing gives. 

. He's definitely into choking, and will choke his partner. If they are consenting to it! He will not do it, unless they consent to it! He's an asshole yes, but he cares about his partner, doesn't wanna hurt them or make them feel uncomfortable in any way. 

. He lovessss slapping his partner's ass. He will use every opportunity to slap their ass while having sex, it's a must to this man. He just loves their ass. (Even better if the partner is chubby! I definitely see him as going feral over his partner being chubby) 

. If his partner has nipple piercings he will use that to his advantage! As they would make his partner's nipples so much more sensitive to his touches, but if they don't have any piercings that's fine with him. Doesn't stop him from going feral over their nipples. 

. He sometimes fucks rough and hard, or soft and sensual. Depends on his mood, or what his partner is feeling at that moment, again he's the KING of consent. If they want him to be rough? Man is going FERAL, they want him to go slow and sensual? He's going to do so for his baby. 

. NICKNAMES GALORE. Call them pretty, baby, sweetheart, you name it! He probably says it. And if they are comfortable with degrading? Man is going crazyyyy. 

. His favorite positions are definitely doggy, because again man's is an ass man. Missionary, just to hold them close to him. Cowgirl is a fiend for his partner riding him. Loves seeing them become a mess while doing so. 

. MIRROR SEXXXXX UGHHHH. he's so into that, makes his partner look at the way he fucks them in the mirror. They look away? He's stopping, to make them look back into the mirror. 

. His nipples are also sensitive because of his piercings as well, and he goes completely crazy when his partner plays with them while they are riding him. He makes noises like grunts. 

. He's definitely the type that puts his partners' pleasure first, wants them to finish first before he ever does. He's definitely into either finishing inside them, or on their chest. MARKINGGGG

.ON THE TOPIC OF MARKING, he definitely gives hickies to his partner. Definitely on the neck where everyone can see them, he has no shame with giving love bites. 

. He definitely has a playlist for when he and his partner have sex, a playlist for rough sex, while another one meant for soft and sensual. And he definitely plays the playlists, making it more intimate to him. 

. He definitely goes crazy seeing his partner wearing his shirts, especially his band tees he owns. The shirt will more then likely stay on while he takes him, it just turns him on when they wear his shirts with no pants on underneath just their underwear. 

. Back on the topic of piercings, we all know he has a prince Albert, but what if also has a Jacob's ladder? That would just add more pleasure to his partner. 

. He is the KING of aftercare, especially if he was rough with them. Making sure they are okay, giving them water. Making them eat a small snack as well, he and his partner will more than likely nap as well after. He would whisper gentle words, letting them know he absolutely loves and adores them. 

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

[butchrgoth]

metalhead Erik Campbell x goth fem reader!

summary : Erik and reader are getting ready for a underground concert and Erik watches reader do her makeup and asks her to do corpse paint on him,,,

warnings : nothing! small kisses and touching,,,

(enjoy - ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ഒ)

It was about 7 pm. slightly windy outside but pretty normal weather.. It was steamy in the small bathroom from the shower running warm water. a small penis drawn in the steam on the mirror. Erik. Erik just finished blow drying his hair, his eyes turning to gaze at his girlfriend who was powdering down her stark white base of foundation.

Erik slipped his black very much washed jeans on and put his hands on her waist, giving her a squeeze before leaning his chin on her shoulder, "You look like a dork." he says, "Glad I'm dating a fuckass ghost." You just glared and pushed him off of you. "Shut up.. its a trust the process kinda thing, you know something you don't know how to do." You barked back.

Erik just clutched his chest and gave an offended look, "Excuse me? my messy hair takes A LOT of time to get right... so fuck off."

You just gave him a look before picking up your eyeshadow brush and started to drag the black from your palette across your eyelid. Erik just stared like a kicked puppy being neglected.

You finished your makeup and looked at him, "You done pouting now...?" Erik sighed dramatically and crossed his arms, "I guess..."

This guy was a brat. You just wanted to smack him. But that's abuse... Don't abuse your Erik's .

You raise your eyebrow noticing how Erik was looking away trying to be nonchalant, batting his eyelashes. "Ookay.. you look like you want something. What." Erik grinned as you finally noticed, "Pretty please make me pretty? Not like you though. You're kinda hard to look at..." He said with a shit eating grin.

And that earned him a smack. Erik was now heartbroken. Well not really. He deserved it.

But soon enough you gave him a small kiss as you apologized. "I'm sorry. Please stop saying you'll call the police for "abuse" now.."

Erik sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine."

You grabbed a headband and pushed it through Eriks hair, please never go bald Erik... he's kinda scary...

Erik just watched as you lathered his face with white foundation, hitting his face with a beauty blender. "Violent...." You just rolled your eyes, "I can just not do this..?" Erik scoffed and shut up again.

You blended everything and grabbed your eyeliner to start the rough sketch outline... Pretty basic corpse paint design. She grabs her black face paint just to make things go by faster and so she doesn't have to literally dry her eyeliner out....

You hum to some fuckass song stuck in your head and give Erik a little kiss. "Happy?" you asked as you dug your brush into the black paint, the cold texture touching his skin, Tracing the sharp design filling it in.

Erik sticks his tongue out and licks the leftover lipgloss you transferred off his lips. "Very sweetheart." You just roll your eyes and finish taking a small brush and making sure the tips are sharp. you grab your black lipstick and trail it across his lips slightly, making pointy edges. Erik was slipping his bracelets on at the same time. multitasking king.

Erik took the headband off and shook his head, fixing his hair. He looked in the mirror. He can't lie. he fucking loved it.. You smiled proudly, "You look hot... Like it?" Erik nodded and pulled you into him. "So much. I look very sick and my girl looks very hot.." Erik kissed you deeply, his tongue asking for entrance. You pulled away, "Nuhuh. not so fast. We have somewhere to be dork." Erik sighs and dramatically pulled his black tanktop on, grabbing his leather jacket. "Whatever... neglect at its finest...."

You just rolled your eyes and grabbed your jacket, pulling it over your outfit. "Yup.. you sleep in a box outside... I know.."

Erik grabbed your hand, your rings clinking against the ones on his own fingers. "Love you." You smiled and kissed his cheek, leaving a small black print of lipstick.

"Love you too." You grinned.

"I still call abuse..."

"shut up." You snarked as the two of you left the apartment.

(A/N: guess who! me! I rlly hope this lives up. uhm. Request page is gonna be pinned to my profile. so if you want me to write anything pls do check that out! I hope you enjoyed....)

[jennxxe]

Jerry fucking Fenbury.

pairing — erik campbell x fem! reader

summary — he cries. during sex with a sad song in the back

warnings — cursing, sex, erik being emo

a/n — best moment in the movie i fear

It started out normal. Well… normal for you two.

Clothes half-off, your thighs around his waist, some song from his “Songs To Be Toxic To” playlist humming in the background.. until it shuffled, cruelly, to something devastatingly sad. Like Phoebe Bridgers at her most lethal. You thought he’d skip it.

He didn’t.

Instead, mid-thrust, Erik fucking Campbell froze. Just stopped. Entire body locked up like a glitching NPC.

You looked up at him, breathless. “What—?”

His head dropped, forehead thunking against your shoulder. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

You blinked. “What? My tits? My—?”

“No.” He sniffed. Sniffed. “Jerry.”

You stared. “Who the fuck is Jerry?”

“My boss.”

A beat. “The one you hate?”

“Yeah.” He shifted, pulled out halfway, and just hovered there, eyes weirdly glassy. “Turns out he’s not just a dick. He’s my biological dad. Found out yesterday. He banged my mom at some biker rally in ‘99.”

The song shifted to something even sadder.

You blinked. “Are you… crying?”

He shook his head, violently. “No. Yes. Shut up.”

He buried his face in your neck and tried to thrust again but let out a broken little groan that was way too emotional for what was happening.

“I hate him,” he mumbled. “I hate him and now I’ve got his nose and apparently he also has a fucking Prince Albert so that’s just—why is this my life—”

You were frozen underneath him, unsure if you should laugh or comfort him or just, like, call a therapist mid-ride.

But all you could say was: “…So, are we still…?”

He didn’t answer. Just sobbed once—once—then muttered, “Keep going. I wanna dissociate.”

You thought after the crying, the climax, and the 7-minute silence while Phoebe Bridgers whispered emotional damage into the air, things would calm down.

Wrong.

He was now sprawled across your bed, one sock on, pants unzipped, legs wide like modesty had officially clocked out. His phone was at 4% and overheating in his hand as he rage-scrolled through Reddit threads like “My boss is my dad: r/familydrama edition.”

His head was in your lap. A little sweaty. Still damp from the tears. Eyes bleary. Voice flat.

“I found an article called 'Trauma Bonding in the Workplace,’” he muttered. “That’s what this is, right? He yells at me, I yell back, and secretly I just want him to teach me how to fix a carburetor and tell me he’s proud of me.”

You ran your fingers through his hair. “Baby, I don’t even think he knows how to fix a carburetor.”

He blinked. “He doesn’t. And he called Blink-182 ‘cringe’ the other day, which should’ve been my first clue that something was off.”

He held up his phone, showing you a stock photo of two dudes arguing in a garage. “This is what I wanted. Instead I got his hairline and unresolved rage.”

“Erik…”

“I let that man schedule my lunch breaks.”

You bit your lip.

“I’ve seen him eat mayonnaise on pizza.”

You nodded sympathetically.

“And now I’m stuck with his DNA and his wrinkly ass scowl.”

His voice cracked a little and he looked up at you with those messed-up blue eyes. “Do you think it’s like, inevitable? Like am I just gonna morph into him one day? Start asking people for their ‘TPS reports’ and firing interns for sport?”

You leaned down and kissed his forehead. “I mean… maybe. But at least you’ll be hot doing it.”

He stared at the ceiling, dazed. “I was inside you while mourning the loss of my father figure. That’s gotta be a Greek tragedy or some shit.”

“You were also listening to Phoebe Bridgers.”

“I know. It was spiritual.”

He sighed, tossed the phone to the floor, looked at his tattoo business card and whispered like a man accepting death:

“Oh my God. I’m a Nepo Baby.”

[adam-stanheight-lover]

What we could have been

Erik Campbell x fem!Reader

(Y/n used once)

{Y/n and Erik broke up 4 months ago, it was messy. But will they ever return to what they could have been?}

It had been 4 months since you and Erik last spoke. It ended in tears and hurtful words being thrown around like they weighed nothing.

You thought you could move on, you really did. But moving on from someone like him was never going to be easy. He was everywhere. From the ink on your skin, the coldness in your bed, the ache in your heart and the constant barrage of memories that came flooding back every time you let your Spotify run on shuffle for too long.

It was supposed to be a normal, mundane Wednesday.

Wake up.

Remember you're alone.

Eat nothing.

Go to work try to forget your ex boyfriend on the way.

Then it started playing, that song. The song. Your song. The one that was everything to you two. And it all came crashing down.

Besides all the weird looks you got on the bus, because you were balling your eyes out at 8 am for seemingly no reason at all. The whole day just felt off now, like something else HAD to go wrong.

Finally crashing down behind that counter felt like the end of a war. The soft hum of the overhead lights flooding your senses, it was grounding. It reminded you that you were here, you were coping. Or at least you were good at lying to yourself.

Most of your shift was rather slow; a few teens coming in to see if you had that new album in stock yet, an elderly couple looking for 60's swing, a really pretty girl and her even prettier girlfriend buying matching vinyls, yeah that one hurt just a bit. That was until you heard the bell above the door chime again, and you were confronted with your worst fear.

Him.

Erik Campbell.

Staring.

Right at you.

His ex.

Awkward didn't even come close to describing this.

"What are you doing here Erik?"

"What, can a guy not look for a CD in peace anymore?" That signature snarky tone oozing from his lips like poison.

"You have Spotify, don't you?" You tried your best to sound as annoyed as you could, but as always, he didn't fall for it.

"What's gotten into you?" He asked rather sarcastically.

You had changed your look quite a bit in the past few months, in a futile effort to rebrand yourself. You changed your hair, got a few new piercings and tattoos, though you could never cover the ones he gave you. Anything, to prove to yourself that you had changed. That you weren't the same person that fell in love with Erik Campbell, and couldn't stop thinking about him for months after the fact.

"Got bored" you replied coldly. You didn't mean it.

"I needed to change Erik, we both did." The words stung as they circled your mind.

"I meant the attitude, Sweets. Though I do like those new tats, shame I couldn't do them."

"Don't even start Campbell." You warned him.

"Look, I know we're not on the best of terms but someone should say something. And I know you're too stubborn to. So that's why I'm here, I don't like admitting that I'm wrong, you know that. But I really fucked up, in fact I don't even think 'fucked up' explains it. I shouldn't have shoved you away that night."

And that's when it all came flooding back, the memories you tried so hard to repress, right here.

You had gone over to visit Erik on a random summer night, something you two loved to do. Julia answered the door.

"Hey Y/n! Wow, is that a new shirt?"

She always sounded so happy to see you.

"Yeah, I made it myself, thought I needed something new for the summer."

"Well I think it looks great, I'm guessing you're not here to show off your new clothes though, are you?"

"Unfortunately not. I'm here to see Erik."

"I'll call him down for you, I don't know why he has to spend all summer indoors when it's so nice outside. He must be a vampire or something."

You waited patiently on the patio, until you heard those all too familiar footsteps.

"Hey, can uhh..... We talk for a minute"

Those words broke you, you just didn't know it yet.

You could feel the anxiety bubbling within you.

"Sure. Lets go for a walk or something."

After walking a couple steps he spoke. Like he couldn't hold it anymore.

"This whole thing...." he pointed between you " should stop."

You were dumbfounded.

"Erik.... What? Why?" Tears pricked the corners of your eyes. "Did I do something??"

"No, just..... I don't think this is healthy anymore."

Not healthy anymore?!? You were fine yesterday, sat cuddled up on your sofa. Watching crappy reality TV!

"Why now Erik? What the fuck do you mean??" Every thought you had was just another question.

"Look I care about you, and we should stop seeing each other. I think it's what we both need"

By now the tears had started pouring. And that's how he left you, on the sidewalk, balling your eyes out. After breaking off an 8 month long relationship for nothing.

"Yeah, I think 'fucked up' doesn't even come close Dipshit! Do you know how long I was stuck in bed for?!? I couldn't do ANYTHING. EVERYWHERE I LOOKED THERE HE WAS ERIK FUCKING CAMPBELL TAUNTING ME. I couldn't even look at myself, because all I saw was someone who fucked it up- the only real relationship they've ever cared about, the only one that meant anything."

Sometime during your big speech both of you had started crying. Hurt and regret flowing like they weighed nothing.

" Sweets...."

"You don't get to call me that anymore Erik." Your words were bitter, you knew they were. But they were the only way you could get your head straight.

"Please.... I was scared, ok? I was so scared that I would lose you, that the only solution I thought of was to force you out of my life on my own terms. I went through hell too, fuck, I even cried to Nickleback on more than one occasion. I wanted to call you, or text you, or something. But I knew you wouldn't pick up, and somehow that hurt more."

You had never seen him cry this much before.

"I fucking spiralled, all I did was work and rot. I was going through the motions, but nothing meant anything. Nothing means anything if I'm not yours. And that sounds pathetic, I'm very fucking aware, but I don't give a shit anymore. I've never hurt this much before, I don't want to fucking drown in this."

You looked straight into his eyes, and saw nothing but his heart. It was real, every word he just said. Every word he had said. Everything. It was real.

You came around from behind the counter and took him into a warm embrace.

He finally felt the cold leaving him, only now. Only with you.

"Can we please just talk again, fuck. I'd give anything."

And with that you knew that you couldn't go back, not to the 4 months you had just lived through. You had to go with him, anywhere he led you, you would go. And you would hold on tight, no matter your fears. Because with Erik, you always knew that you were safe.

Thank you for reading my first ever Fic!! Any requests check my profile<3