#erik campbell x ofc

[fandomficticn]

friends i think i'm gonna do something crazy

okay so it's not so crazy as it is something i don't think i've done here before. so i have a deep love for fanfiction and i don't know if or when i'll stop writing it but as anyone who writes, ideas just come to you for everything, fanfiction or an original idea.

i have had this idea for an original story about a magic school for some months and i hadn't come up with characters specifically, more so ideas of them, but i'm working hard to build the school itself and then i took a break from it.

until i saw the new final destination movie.

for some reason, i could see all of the kids, stefani and her brother and the campbell siblings, as students with a original character fmc and erik campbell as the love interest and following the plot that i have.

like i can see this story and i hadn't really come up with specific characters for it but seeing that movie, all of the characters, and i was like "you know, they actually fit. this is my vision of these characters!"

so who's in the mood for two ongoing fanfiction stories, well three if i pick up my druig fanfic again?

[jennxxe]

Birthday boy.

pairing — erik campbell x fem! reader x bobby campbell

summary — bobby is a 19 year old virgin and erik, being the great brother that he is, decides that his girlfriend can help with that

warnings — 18+, explicit sexual content, virginity loss, cursing, mentions of body piercings (erik ofc), oral sex, mentions of weed, smoking cigarettes, threesome, erik just watches at first, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n — lord this one is wild and i genuinely hope this doesn’t count as inc3st

Bobby’s 19th birthday party was somehow already a disaster and a success at the same time. The house smelled like dollar store candles, pizza rolls, and Axe body spray. Music thumped too loudly through the old speakers Erik had found in someone’s garage last week, and the couch was half-covered in streamers and a suspicious stain no one had dared address.

There were too many people in the kitchen, the lights were too bright, and the snacks had long devolved into chaos, but Bobby? Bobby was thriving.

Wearing a backwards snapback that didn’t match his outfit, sunglasses inside, and a white tee a size too tight, he moved through the crowd like a human Labrador. Slapping backs, flexing biceps, waving a half-eaten slice of cake around like a sword. His voice boomed every few seconds—laughing too loud, misquoting memes from 2017 like they were hot off TikTok.

You were nursing a red solo cup of something too sweet, sitting on the arm of the couch when Erik came up behind you. You felt him before he even spoke, his hand sliding around your waist, breath warm near your jaw, always too close, too cocky.

“Dude, look at him,” Erik muttered, tone just low enough to make it feel like a secret. “You’d think we were celebrating his retirement.”

You turned your head, letting your temple graze his. “He’s happy.”

Erik made a face. “He’s a virgin.”

You snorted. “So?”

“He’s nineteen. And still a virgin. You know what happens if that doesn’t get handled soon?”

You raised an eyebrow, swirling the drink in your cup. “He turns into a werewolf?”

“No. Worse.” Erik took a long sip from his drink like it physically pained him to continue. “He develops an ego complex, falls down a Reddit hole, and two years later he’s blaming women on the internet for the fact that he can’t find the clit.”

You stared at Bobby, watching him bump chests with a guy he just beat at beer pong. His eyes sparkled like a puppy who just got told he was a very good boy.

You leaned a little closer to Erik, voice dropping into something silkier. “He is kind of hot, though.”

Erik stopped breathing. You could feel the shift in him—shoulders tensing slightly, head turning toward you in slow disbelief.

“What.”

You licked your lips, playing it up just to get a rise out of him. “I mean, he’s got those jock arms. Dumb energy. Big heart. Zero clue what to do with it. I could fix him.”

Erik just stared at you like you’d grown horns.

“You wanna cheat on me with my brother?”

“Not cheat,” you corrected sweetly, dragging a nail down his arm. “Help.”

He ran a hand down his face, visibly spiraling. “You are deranged.”

You leaned into his space again, lips grazing the shell of his ear, voice a teasing purr. “You’re hard, aren’t you?”

“Shut up,” he hissed, way too fast. His jaw twitched.

You leaned back just enough to see the look in his eyes—half disbelief, half Oh no I’m into this. The kind of chaos only Erik could embody: territorial and turned on, pissed and amused all at once.

“So?” you prompted.

He stared at the floor for a beat, then the ceiling, then you. You watched his tongue press against the inside of his cheek before he exhaled like he was selling his soul to the devil.

“Alright. Let’s go help him.”

The house was quieter two hours later.

Empty red solo cups littered the counters. Someone’s jacket was crumpled over the microwave. A balloon floated lazily against the ceiling like it, too, had given up. Erik sat at the kitchen table, slouched back in a chair with one leg kicked out and a cigarette dangling between his fingers. Smoke curled lazily toward the overhead light, casting everything in a hazy yellow glow.

Bobby stumbled in, hair a mess, shirt rumpled, cheeks still flushed with leftover adrenaline. He looked like someone who had just been told he was awesome twelve too many times.

“Dude,” Bobby said, breathless, opening the fridge like he was searching for buried treasure. “That was the best party of my life. Did you see Trevor let me carry him up the stairs? I mean, I dropped him on the third step, but like… he laughed.”

Erik didn’t look up from the cigarette. “Congrats, man. You peaked.”

Bobby grabbed a bottle of something halfway expired and twisted off the cap, chugging like he was in a college movie.

“You’re in a good mood,” Erik muttered, finally meeting his gaze.

Bobby leaned against the counter, sipping more slowly now. “Yeah, well. It’s my birthday. Also, I think your girlfriend winked at me.”

Erik exhaled a long stream of smoke and tilted his head. “She did more than that, bro.”

Bobby blinked. “...What?”

Erik tapped the ash off his cigarette, watching the ember glow. Then he glanced up again, expression unreadable.

“She thinks you’re hot.”

There was a pause. Bobby frowned.

“Wait, like… joking hot or like—”

“Like she offered to take your virginity as a favor to society.”

Bobby’s jaw dropped, a bottle of Sprite halfway to his mouth. “What?!”

“She said you’ve got dumb energy,” Erik added, deadpan.

Bobby blinked. “I mean… I do, but—”

Erik pointed the cigarette at him like it was a moral compass. “Listen to me. I don’t know what kind of glow-up puberty gave you, but if you’re gonna start pulling that kind of attention, you need to know how to handle it.”

Bobby squinted. “Handle what? You’re not seriously saying—wait. Wait, are you mad?”

“Mad?” Erik scoffed. “No. I’m your older brother. I’m here to guide your dumbass into manhood.”

“That sounds like a cult pitch.”

“Shut up.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, cigarette balanced loosely between two fingers. “Look. You’re nineteen. You’ve got that whole boy-next-door thing going for you. Girls love that shit. But if you start swinging your dick around like a prize, you’re gonna crash and burn.”

Bobby raised a brow. “...This is weird advice coming from you.”

“Yeah, well.” Erik gave him a tight smirk. “That’s why I’m not telling you to be me. I’m telling you to take the shortcut. You wanna lose it? Fine. You want her to show you the ropes? Great. Just don’t be a creep about it. Don’t fall in love with your first lay. And never tell Julia.”

Bobby made a choking noise. “Jules would literally kill us all.”

“Exactly.” Erik stood up, stretched his arms overhead, his tank top riding up just enough to show a hint of ink. “So if anything happens… it didn’t.”

Bobby nodded slowly. “Right. Operation: Denial.”

Erik clapped a hand on his shoulder, smirking. “That’s my boy.”

And with that, he walked off down the hall, dragging smoke and bad ideas behind him.

Bobby stood there alone for a second, holding the bottle and blinking at the dark kitchen.

“…Wait, am I about to lose my virginity?”

The next day, you were on the porch, sunglasses on, coffee in one hand, phone in the other. Your legs were kicked up on the railing, Erik’s hoodie slouched over your frame like it lived there now. Hair a little messy. A smudge of something pink on your cheek. You looked like the aftermath of something that left a mark.

Bobby hovered in the doorway like he was approaching a tiger in stilettos.

“…Hey,” he said finally, voice cracking halfway through it.

You lowered your glasses just enough to look at him. “Morning, birthday boy.”

He swallowed. “So. Uh. Last night.”

You took a slow sip from your mug. “Mhm.”

“Did that… like… happen?”

You tilted your head, watching him squirm. “Define that, sweetheart.”

Bobby flushed. “The part where you and Erik were… talking about… you know.” He gestured vaguely at the universe. “Helping me.”

You didn’t answer right away. You just looked at him for a moment, amused, your tongue pressing into your cheek like you were deciding how much chaos to unleash before noon.

“Yeah,” you said finally. “We were.”

Bobby blinked. “You were serious?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think I wink at people as a joke?”

He made a small, confused hand motion. “I don’t know, I just figured it was like… ironic flirting. Y’know, like when people flirt with customer service workers so they don’t feel like dying?”

You leaned forward, placing your coffee down with a soft clink. “Bobby. You’re hot. Tall. Built like a linebacker. Dumb as bricks in the most adorable way possible. You think I wouldn’t want to ruin you a little?”

He stared at you like you just told him he was actually descended from the heavens. “Oh my God.”

You smiled slowly. “Still want my help?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Then—softly, earnestly, with a kind of sacred awe—“I think I’d let you run me over with a truck.”

You laughed. Really laughed. Then stood up and ruffled his hair with both hands. “Good boy.”

Just then, Erik stepped onto the porch, shirtless, yawning, with a cigarette tucked behind his ear.

He paused. Squinted at the two of you.

“…Are you guys flirting?” he asked, deadpan.

You didn’t miss a beat. “No.”

Bobby, nearly vibrating: “YES.”

Erik looked between you both, eyes narrowing. “Do not bang my brother before breakfast.”

You raised your mug in salute. “No promises.”

Later that day, Bobby found you alone in the living room. Erik had just left to pick up some tattoo supplies and probably a breakfast burrito the size of his ego. You were sprawled across the couch in biker shorts and a crop top, one leg hooked over the armrest, flipping through a magazine like you weren’t plotting a moral collapse.

Bobby hesitated in the doorway like his conscience was still buffering.

You didn’t look up. “You gonna hover or sit?”

He obeyed immediately, flopping onto the couch cushion beside you like he’d been waiting for permission to breathe. “Okay, so—hypothetically—if this were to happen…”

You turned your head, one brow raised. “If?”

Bobby flushed. “When. When. Sorry. I’m still, like, mentally short-circuiting.”

You smirked. “Cute.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “So… Friday— Julia’s still on that cabin trip with her friends. Mom and Dad are outta town… So the house’ll be empty.”

“Except for us,” you said, giving him a slow, deliberate look.

He gulped. “Okay. Yeah. That’s… That’s good.”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “What time do you usually wake up on a Friday?”

“Uh. Ten?”

“Make it nine. I want you showered. Teeth brushed. Hair fluffed.”

He blinked. “Fluffed?”

You leaned in slightly, voice dropping into something warm and smoky. “Bobby, this is a once-in-a-lifetime event. You’re about to be ruined for other women. The least you can do is smell good.”

He made a small whimpering noise. “Oh my God.”

You sat up and leaned toward him, eyes playful but sharp. “No breakfast burritos. No garlic. No Axe body spray. And wear those grey sweatpants.”

He blinked. “You noticed my sweatpants?”

You just smirked. “Everybody noticed your sweatpants.”

Bobby looked like his soul had momentarily left his body. “Okay. Okay. I can do this. This is fine. I’m fine.”

You reached over, gently tugged the drawstring of his shorts. “You better be.”

He swallowed hard. “Wait—where’s it gonna happen? My room? Living toom?”

You chuckled. “Please. The living room’s sacred ground. We’re using Erik’s room.”

His eyes widened. “Dude. That feels… wrong.”

You grinned. “Exactly.”

He choked on his own spit.

You leaned back again, casual and predatory all at once. “So. Friday. Nine a.m. Clean, quiet, ready. You knock once and Erik will open the door. And then…”

“Then?” he asked, eyes huge.

You smiled like a cat with a mouse under her paw. “Then I make you forget every crush you ever had.”

From the hallway, the front door creaked open.

Erik’s voice called out. “Yo! You guys better not be doing bonding shit in there!”

You called back smoothly. “We’re just talking!”

Bobby, under his breath, lips pale: “I think I’m gonna die.”

You glanced at him, tossed your hair back, and whispered, “Not before Friday, you’re not.”

Friday. 9:03 AM.

Erik’s room smelled like him—cologne, smoke, leather, and something distinctly male and reckless. The kind of scent that stayed on your skin, even after a shower. You were perched on the edge of his unmade bed, legs crossed, nails painted and gleaming under the soft morning light that filtered through slatted blinds.

Bobby stood in the doorway, looking like a crime about to happen. Grey sweatpants. White tee stretched over his chest. Hands fidgeting at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with the sudden weight of his body. He looked at you, then glanced toward the corner chair.

Erik was already there. Slouched back, legs spread wide, black joggers riding low on his hips, coffee in one hand and a cigarette burning in the ashtray beside him. His gaze was unreadable, flicking from his brother to you like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or light the match.

“You’re late,” you said, lifting an eyebrow as Bobby stepped inside.

“I—I had to shave. I didn’t want to be prickly. Or sweaty. Or like, too… I don’t know, eager.” Bobby’s voice cracked halfway through and he winced.

You smiled slowly, rising from the bed. “Relax. You’re not being sacrificed.”

Bobby swallowed hard, eyes wide as you walked toward him. He looked like he’d never seen a woman walk in his life.

You hooked a finger through his waistband and gently tugged him closer. “Let’s start slow.”

He nodded so fast it looked like a glitch.

You cupped his jaw, thumb brushing across his cheek, and leaned in, your lips ghosting over his before you pressed into him. His mouth opened on instinct, unsure and eager, but you kissed him like you had all the time in the world to teach him.

His hands hovered at your sides, too polite, too careful.

“Touch her,” Erik said from the corner, voice low and unbothered.

Bobby jerked slightly, blinking at him. “W-What?”

“Jesus, man,” Erik exhaled, eyes sharp but lazy, “you think she’s gonna bite?”

“She will,” you murmured, nipping Bobby’s bottom lip. “But only if you’re lucky.”

That seemed to short-circuit him. His hands slid to your waist, trembling a little, and you kissed him deeper, guiding him backward until the backs of his knees hit the bed. You pushed him down gently, straddling him, hands in his hair, hips rocking just barely to test him.

And oh—he was already getting there. Poor boy was flushed, pupils blown wide, already hard against the thin barrier of his sweatpants.

Erik leaned back, elbow resting on the arm of the chair, watching. Not leering. Not possessive. Just… invested. Smirking. Maybe a little impressed.

“You’re really doing this,” he muttered, voice coated in lazy amusement. “Can’t say I didn’t think about it. But damn.”

Bobby pulled back slightly, panting, lips kiss-bruised. “Is this… like, is this weird? That you’re—”

“I’m here to supervise,” Erik said, deadpan. “Making sure you don’t cry or nut too fast.”

You bit back a grin. “Yeah, baby. This is hands-on mentorship.”

Bobby let out a strangled sound that might’ve been a laugh or a prayer.

You leaned down again, this time slower, with a little more weight in it, your tongue sliding over his as you kissed him like he was something you’d waited for. Like ruining him was a favor you were doing for both of you.

Erik stretched, muscles rippling, his eyes dark now. “Don’t let him get lazy,” he said, voice molasses-slick. “If you’re gonna teach him, teach him.”

“Oh,” you purred, rocking your hips against Bobby’s slowly, “I plan on it.”

You pulled back from Bobby just enough to meet his gaze, your thumb brushing his swollen bottom lip. He looked wrecked already, chest rising and falling too fast, eyes dazed like he couldn’t believe this was real.

You dipped your head again, but instead of kissing him, your lips grazed his jaw, down to his throat, and then to the collar of his t-shirt.

“Take this off,” you murmured.

He obeyed immediately, tugging the shirt over his head with a clumsy kind of urgency. You didn’t rush. You just sat back and watched the reveal—broad chest, soft tan lines, that little trail of hair disappearing into his waistband. He looked like a boy trying hard to be a man, and that innocence made your mouth water.

You slid your hands up his stomach, nails grazing skin just enough to make him twitch. “Not bad, birthday boy.”

He swallowed hard. “Should I—uh—should I take yours off too or—”

Erik cut in from the chair, voice like dry smoke. “Ask permission first, dumbass.”

You turned to shoot Erik a look, half grin, half warning. “He’s learning.”

Bobby blinked up at you. “Can I—can I take yours off?”

You tilted your head, teasing. “You gonna be gentle?”

He nodded so fast it made you laugh softly.

“Then go ahead.”

His hands were hesitant at first, brushing your hips, sliding up your sides to the hem of your crop top. You raised your arms for him, and he peeled it off slowly, like he was unwrapping something forbidden.

His eyes widened as you sat there bare above him—no bra, no shame. You leaned forward and tugged his hands up to your chest.

“Touch,” you said, tone low and warm.

He did. Carefully. Reverently. Like he wasn’t sure if it was a dream. From the chair, Erik exhaled a breath through his nose, blue eyes focused.

“You’re shaking,” you murmured, kissing Bobby’s jaw. “Still scared?”

Bobby let out a breathless little laugh. “Kinda.”

“Good.” You nipped his ear. “Means you’ll remember it.”

Your fingers slipped down his torso, grazing the waistband of his sweatpants.

“These go next,” you whispered. “But you’re not the only one losing layers.”

You stood slowly, watching his eyes follow every movement. You hooked your thumbs into your shorts and shimmied out of them, one side at a time, until they pooled at your feet. The air kissed your thighs, and Bobby’s mouth parted slightly when he saw your panties.

You stepped out and climbed back onto the bed, straddling him again.

“Okay,” you said softly, fingers ghosting along his waistband. “You ready?”

He nodded, almost too fast again.

Erik leaned forward slightly in his chair, elbows on his knees, that lazy smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Don’t pass out,” he muttered. “We just got to the good part.”

You slid closer to Bobby, breath warm against his skin, fingers tracing the line of his jaw before settling at the base of his neck. His pulse hammered beneath your touch, every nerve begging for something, anything, from you.

Without hesitation, you dipped your head, lips ghosting down his collarbone, pausing just above the waistband of his sweats. Your hands cupped his hips as you leaned in, eyes locked with his for a heartbeat before you let your mouth do the talking.

Slow, deliberate kisses trailed lower, teasing, coaxing, until you were tracing the edge of the fabric. Your tongue flicked out, slipping beneath the band, drawing a soft gasp from him that made your pulse quicken.

“Fuck... shit,” Bobby breathed out, voice trembling like it caught him off guard.

You worked with patience, hands sliding up his thighs as your lips parted around the tip, gentle at first like you were savoring the taste, learning every curve. His fingers tangled in your hair, breath hitching, eyes fluttering closed as you took his cock deeper into your mouth, slow and sure.

“God, that’s... fuck, yeah,” he gasped, hips pushing forward with a shaky urgency, desperate for more even as you kept him on the edge.

The heat between you spiked, his hips rolling forward on instinct, pressing closer as you took him in, careful to keep the pace just right—teasing enough to drive him wild but not so fast he lost control.

You looked up through your lashes, lips slick and swollen, and caught the raw need in his gaze. He was already undone, every breath shallow, every muscle tense.

“You good?” you murmured, voice thick with promise.

He swallowed hard, voice rough and ragged. “Never... never been better.”

You’re lost in the moment, every slow, teasing motion drawing Bobby deeper, his breath hitching and his hands clutching your hair like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. His eyes are half-lidded, desperate and stunned, like you’re literally stealing the air from his lungs.

From the corner, Erik’s voice cuts through the haze, low and sarcastic, like he’s calling the play-by-play on a goddamn championship game.

“Alright, folks—Bobby’s in the danger zone now,” he drawls, eyes locked on the scene like he’s got front-row seats. “Slowing the pace, but the crowd’s on edge. Can he handle the pressure?”

Bobby groans, muffled against his hand. “Dude... c’mon, s-stapH.”

Erik smirks, lighting a cigarette. “Oh, he’s begging already! That’s gotta be a first.”

You glance up briefly, biting back a grin before diving back in. Bobby’s hands grip tighter, hips twitching like he’s fighting a losing battle.

“Bobby’s defenses are breaking down—full surrender imminent,” Erik narrates like it’s the final seconds of overtime. “Can he hold out? Or is this gonna be a quick win for Team ‘Girlfriend’?”

“Dude—fuck—c’mon, man!” Bobby whines, voice shaky, lips pressed hard against you, eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll save him.

You hum against his skin, teasing just enough to drive him crazy, fingers threading through his hair, grounding him even as his world spins.

Erik leans back, blowing out smoke, eyes gleaming. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you seal the deal. Bobby’s officially outplayed.”

Bobby groans again, breathless and defeated but grinning like a kid caught stealing cookies.

You finally pull back, letting him catch his breath, his chest rising and falling fast, cheeks flushed like a champ who just scored. You lay back on the bed, parting your thighs for him. He takes a deep breath before climbing on top of you so he’s hovering just above your pussy.

Bobby's inexperienced but eager movements sent tingles through you, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive skin. You watched him, heart fluttering at the sight of him, lost in concentration as he explored your body with tentative touches.

His tongue darted out tentatively, brushing against your folds, making you gasp softly. He looked up at you, eyes wide and questioning, clearly unsure if he was doing it right. You gave him an encouraging nod, threading your fingers through his hair gently.

"You're doing great, Bobby," you reassured him, voice breathy. "Just follow your instincts."

Emboldened by your praise, he leaned in closer, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs. His hands gripped your hips, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your skin. He seemed to be figuring it out bit by bit, his movements becoming more confident as he tasted and teased you.

"Tell me if I'm hurting you," he murmured against your skin, glancing up at you with a blend of trepidation and yearning. "I don't want to mess this up."

You smiled softly, cupping his cheek. "Just relax and enjoy this."

He nodded, determination settling in his gaze as he returned his attention to pleasuring you. His tongue delved deeper, not quite finding your clit yet.

Bobby looks up at you nervously, his eyes searching yours for guidance. You give him an encouraging smile, reaching out to run your fingers through his hair reassuringly.

"It's okay, you're doing great," you murmur softly, arching your back slightly to press your hips up towards his face invitingly.

Bobby takes a deep breath and closes his eyes briefly before diving in again. This time, his tongue glides across your slick folds with a bit more confidence, circling your entrance before darting inside teasingly.

Bobby’s doing his best. Honestly. He’s trying so hard, and you can feel the effort in every careful movement, every awkward adjustment like he’s solving a Rubik’s cube with his tongue. You let him keep going, because it’s sweet… but that sweetness doesn’t do much when it’s not quite hitting the spot.

From his place nearby, Erik’s been watching with a cigarette half-lit and an eyebrow cocked so high it might fly off his face. His arms are crossed, lip twitching like he’s been holding back commentary for a solid minute.

Finally, he exhales a sharp breath through his nose, flicks the cigarette into a tray, and stands up like a guy who's had enough of watching a YouTube tutorial done wrong.

“Okay,” he says, clapping once like a disappointed professor. “Move over, Bobby. That’s enough community service for one night.”

Bobby looks up, lips wet and confused. “Huh?”

Erik’s already kneeling down next to him, rolling his neck like he’s about to crack his knuckles and fix your entire day. “You gave it the ol’ college try, man. Really. I’m proud of you. But I can’t sit here watching you treat her like a Sudoku puzzle any longer.”

Bobby frowns. “I wasn’t—wait, is it that bad?”

You bite your lip, torn between laughter and arousal. “It’s not bad, it’s just… not illegal either.”

Erik grins, wicked and sure of himself. “Don’t worry, rookie. This is a team sport.”

And before Bobby can protest, Erik’s got one hand sliding over your thigh, the other brushing Bobby’s shoulder like a tag-in at a wrestling match.

“Pay attention, kid,” he murmurs against your skin, voice dark and low. “Class is in session.”

With practiced ease, Erik guides Bobby’s hands, adjusting the angle, encouraging the right touch. His voice drops low and teasing as he coaches, “Not too hard, don’t forget to listen. You feel that? Good. Keep that up.”

Erik's guidance transformed Bobby's touch from uncertain to confident. Under his brother's steady hand, Bobby found a rhythm, alternating between long, slow licks and quick, focused flicks of his tongue.

"That's it, just like that," Erik encouraged, a predatory gleam in his eye as he watched Bobby work. His own arousal was evident, straining against his jeans as he knelt beside you both.

You found yourself lost in the sensation, back arching off the bed as Bobby's tongue circled your clit with growing skill. Erik's fingers dug into Bobby's shoulder, urging him on, his own breath coming faster.

"Fuck, you're doing so good," Erik groaned, his other hand skimming up your thigh, teasingly close to where Bobby's mouth worked. "Keep going, just like that. Make her cum all over you."

Bobby groaned against you, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure racing through your nerves. Erik's filthy words and the knowledge of them watching you together pushed you closer to the edge, your hips rocking instinctively against Bobby's face.

Erik watches intently from his position behind Bobby, his hand guiding the younger man's head as he whispers words of encouragement.

"That's it, just like that," Erik praises, his deep voice sending vibrations through Bobby's mouth directly to your core. "Use more pressure, and focus on her clit."

Bobby follows Erik's lead, latching onto your sensitive bundle of nerves and suckling gently. His inexperienced enthusiasm is actually quite endearing as he explores your body with growing fervor.

Your breathing hitches as the dual sensations of Erik's guiding hand and Bobby's eager mouth overwhelm your senses. You thread your fingers through Bobby's hair, pulling him closer as your thighs begin to tremble.

"F-fuck..." you gasp out, your hips bucking involuntarily against Bobby's face as he brings you closer to the edge with every swipe of his talented tongue.

Erik leaned down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss, swallowing your moans as Bobby brought you to a shattering climax. You came apart between them, tremors wracking your body as Bobby lapped up your release, guided by Erik's knowing hands and gravelly praise.

Erik’s hands are already on your hips, mouth hot on your neck, when he starts shedding layers like he’s got somewhere better to be, but clearly, this is the main event. Shirt flung over the back of a chair, belt clinking as it hits the floor, boots kicked off without a second thought.

Bobby’s still sitting beside you, wide-eyed, probably rethinking every decision that brought him here, especially when Erik’s boxers hit the ground with zero hesitation.

And then—

“Bro,” Bobby chokes, voice cracking halfway through. “You have a piercing on your—on your dick?!”

He’s blinking like he just saw a crime scene. His hand lifts automatically, like he’s about to cross himself or call the authorities.

Erik doesn’t even flinch. He just smirks, one brow raised, stepping fully into view like a man very proud of his hardware.

“Prince Albert, baby,” he says casually, as if it’s just another tattoo. “Adds a little extra sparkle to the family jewels.”

Bobby’s still frozen, blinking rapidly. “Why would you do that to yourself?”

Erik shrugs, not missing a beat. “Because I like making people believe in God again.”

Your laugh breaks the tension, breathless and sharp, and Erik shoots you a wink before crawling back onto the bed like a performer who’s just dropped the mic.

Bobby’s still staring, somewhere between traumatized and deeply curious.

Erik throws an arm around his shoulders as he settles in. “Don’t worry. By the end of this, you’ll be grateful for every disturbing thing I’ve ever done.”

The air in Erik’s room is thick with heat and breathless energy, music humming low in the background like a pulse neither of them can ignore. You’re lying back, already flushed, your skin slick with anticipation, heart thundering like a drumbeat that only speeds up when Erik settles on one side of you and Bobby hesitates on the other.

“Come on, Bobby,” Erik murmurs, voice rough like gravel and whiskey, leaning over you to flash his brother a grin that’s half taunt, half dare. “Don’t get shy now. You’re not gonna break her.”

Bobby looks torn between holy awe and cardiac arrest, his eyes flicking from you to Erik and back again, lips parted as if searching for words but forgetting how they work. Still, he moves closer, drawn like gravity, and when his hand brushes your hip, it’s tentative, reverent.

You reach for him, fingers curling around his wrist, guiding him in with a soft, sultry pull. “You’re doing good, Bobby,” you murmur, and that’s all it takes.

His mouth crashes against yours, all nervous energy and clumsy hunger, but it works and you let him press you down into the sheets as Erik watches with that signature smirk that says he knew it would go like this.

“Christ,” Erik mutters, jerking himself off lazily as he sits back and watches. “This is better than pay-per-view.”

You arch into Bobby’s touch, and Erik finally pushes himself onto his knees with that casual confidence, settling near your face. Bobby turns his head for a split second—and freezes.

“Bro—” he chokes out, face going red. “You’re really just gonna let her suck you off? With that thing?!”

Erik just stretches, shameless and proud. “What, the piercing? You’ll thank me later. She definitely will. Besides do you think she never gave me a blow before?”

He slides behind you now, his chest warm against your back, lips grazing your shoulder. “Mind if I take over for a sec?” he murmurs, voice low enough that Bobby has to lean in to catch it. “You can watch and learn.”

You can feel Bobby nod before he even says anything, his eyes wide, lips wet and slightly parted. Erik’s hands ghost along your sides, slow and deliberate, and Bobby’s still kneeling at your thighs, his breathing uneven, like he’s caught between fascination and overload.

Then Erik reaches forward, guiding Bobby’s hand like he had earlier, but this time it's different—hungrier. More intimate. His voice is a murmur against your ear as he whispers instructions, half for Bobby, half for you.

“Just like that. Feel that?” He smirks as your body reacts, your breath catching. “She likes that. You’re doin’ alright.”

Bobby groans softly, his voice raw. “This is insane…”

“Yeah,” Erik says with a grin, “but you’re not tapping out, are you?”

The silence stretches and then Bobby shakes his head very eagerly, breathless. “Hell no.”

You pull him back to you with a smile that says good, your hands tangled in his shirt, Erik’s body flush against yours, all heat and teasing fingertips and tangled limbs.

And when you moan just loud enough, Erik lets out a laugh, smug and sinful.

“Happy birthday, baby brother.”

It’s happening—really happening—and Bobby’s frozen for a beat, like his brain just blue-screened mid-installation. One second he's hovering, nervous as hell, heart rattling in his ribs like a caged bird, and the next...

He sinks into you.

And that’s when his soul momentarily leaves his body.

His breath punches out of him like he’s been socked in the chest. His hands immediately grip the sheets like he’s trying not to float off the planet. Green eyes wide, jaw slack, a raw, involuntary noise tumbles out of his throat—somewhere between a gasp, a whimper, and a desperate "holy sh—"

You’re warm and tight and real, and for Bobby—who’s only ever known the cold, pixelated touch of incognito mode—it’s too much and not enough, all at once. His whole face flushes a deep, beet-red, and he literally pants over you like he just ran five miles barefoot uphill.

“Oh my god—oh my god,” he stammers, completely wrecked already. “It feels—this is—you’re—”

Erik just leans back against the headboard, grinning like he just sold front-row tickets to the most dramatic moment of Bobby’s life.

“Bro,” Erik says with a laugh, “You look like you just saw the second coming.”

Bobby can’t even look at him. His head dips, breath hitching, forehead brushing your shoulder as he moans, shaky and ruined. “I’m not gonna last—I can’t—dude.”

Erik smirks. “Nah, nah. You’re doing great. Just… maybe think about your taxes or baseball or something.”

“Why would I think about baseball?!”

“Exactly.”

You bite your lip to stifle a giggle as Bobby fumbles, overwhelmed and stunned and completely consumed. He looks up at you, eyes blown wide, voice breathless and reverent.

“You’re so perfect, I swear I’m—this is—thank you, oh my god—thank you.”

Erik just claps once from the sidelines like a proud coach watching his underdog score.

“Look at my boy. Whole personality rewiring in real-time.”

Bobby’s barely hanging onto reality at this point, he’s fully gone, moving with raw instinct now, like something ancient and primal just got lit up inside him. Every thrust is wild and needy, like he’s chasing something he doesn’t even have words for yet. He’s panting against your skin, muttering breathless nonsense like “so good, so good, I can’t—” over and over, caught somewhere between prayer and delirium.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, grounding him as much as they’re clinging for dear life.

And Erik? Oh, he’s collected. Too collected. The exact opposite of his little brother’s desperate rhythm. He’s kneeling above you, mouth twitching into a smirk as he slides two fingers beneath your chin and tilts your head just the way he likes it.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice velvet-draped danger. “Don’t forget about me now.”

His hips move with an infuriating sort of control, slow and deliberate, as if he’s got all the time in the world to teach you exactly how he likes it. One hand holds your jaw steady, the other stroking over your hair like he owns the moment, because he does.

“Goddamn,” he groans as you take him into your mouth, eyes fluttering shut for a second before snapping back to you with laser focus. “You’re filthy. Look at you—wrecked on both ends.”

Behind you, Bobby moans—a high, desperate sound that he clearly didn’t mean to let out. “I—I’m gonna—oh my god—”

Erik tilts his head, peering over your shoulder like he’s checking in on a toddler making a mess. “Bobby,” he calls out, voice calm but amused. “Buddy. Pace yourself. This isn’t a sprint.”

Bobby’s too far gone to listen, though. He mutters something incoherent and doubles down, rocking into you with a groan that practically trembles in his throat.

Erik watches the two of you, biting down a grin. “Jesus. He’s like a damn dog in mating season.”

Then he looks back at you, voice dropping to something low and wicked. “Good thing I know how to take my time.”

Then—

Bobby cums. Hard. Inside of you.

Bobby’s still inside you, frozen like a statue, lips parted as his brain slowly catches up to what his body just did. He blinks. Once. Twice.

Then he breathes, “...Oh my god.”

You hum, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder, eyes still glazed with pleasure. “That good, huh?”

He looks like he just committed a crime in three states and turned himself in. “I—I didn’t mean to. I mean, I did, but I didn’t—Erik’s gonna kill me.”

For a second, no one says anything.

The air is thick, sticky with sweat and something heavier, Bobby’s breath caught in his throat, your body still twitching with the aftershocks, and Erik?

Erik is staring.

Not blinking. Not speaking. Just… staring.

Bobby’s eyes widen, panicked. “I came in her.” Like it wasn’t obvious.

Erik tilts his head.

“Dude. You lasted two and a half minutes, blew your load in my girl?” Erik stops. Looks at him. Then at you. Then shakes his head with a low whistle. “The audacity…”

You shift, propping yourself up on your elbows. “I mean, you could at least pretend to be mad.”

“I was mad,” Erik says, starting to smirk like the devil. “Until I saw the look on his face. He came like a choirboy seeing heaven for the first time.”

Bobby groans and drops his face into the pillow, mortified. You giggle, fingers running lazily through his hair. “You okay down there?”

“No,” he says, voice muffled. “I just committed emotional incest.”

Erik snorts. “Relax. If I was gonna lose it, I’d have done it the second you started moaning like a Disney prince in heat.”

Bobby peeks up, cheeks still flushed. “You’re not mad?”

Erik’s eyes flick toward you, his smirk softening for just a moment. “Nah. I’m territorial, not jealous. She’s still mine.”

You blink up at him, breath caught somewhere in your chest. “You’re definitely not mad?”

“I’m insulted,” he mutters. “But mostly turned on. That’s the problem.”

You're lying in the wreckage of what used to be a bed—sheets twisted, limbs sprawled, the air still heavy with sweat and something else too wicked to name. Erik's arm is slung across your waist like a claim, thumb idly stroking your skin. Bobby’s somewhere at the foot of the bed, looking like he just won the lottery and got hit by a bus at the same time.

It’s quiet.

Too quiet.

You stretch, all faux-innocent, and murmur into the air, “Y’know… Bobby’s kind of a natural.”

Both men freeze.

Erik’s thumb stops mid-stroke. His head turns, slow, eyes narrowing with surgical precision.

“I beg your pardon?”

You blink up at him, biting your lip, oh-so-casual. “I’m just saying. He was surprisingly good for a first time. Like, if I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s done this before.”

From the foot of the bed, Bobby perks up. “Wait, really?”

Erik sits up like he’s been electrocuted.

“Oh my god,” he mutters. “You liked it?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “I mean… the enthusiasm? Immaculate. And he—”

“Don’t,” Erik cuts in sharply, holding up a finger. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence unless you want me to take your legs off at the knees with my mouth.”

You snort.

“Bobby, put some clothes on,” Erik barks suddenly, not even looking at him.

“Why?” Bobby asks, confused and still very much not moving.

“Because if you don’t, I might black out and do something unspeakable out of pure rage,” Erik hisses.

You hum, still wicked. “Jealous?”

Erik rounds on you with that devil’s grin curling at the corner of his mouth, the kind of look that promises vengeance and velvet sin. “No, sweetheart,” he murmurs, crawling over you like a storm rolling in. “Jealous is what I’d be if you didn’t scream my name louder.”

You smile sweetly. “I don’t remember whose name I screamed louder.”

Erik pauses.

Stares.

And then?

“Okay. That’s it.”

Suddenly you’re flipped onto your stomach with a low growl and a slap to your ass that echoes.

“Bobby, out.”

“Wait—”

“NOW.”

Bobby scrambles off the bed, dragging the sheet with him like a panicked toga. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You didn’t,” Erik calls after him. “She did. But now you both suffer.”

Erik watches Bobby stomp toward the door like he’s just been sentenced to exile, but the second Bobby’s hand hits the handle, Erik calls out, his voice rough but low, almost reluctant.

“Hey, dumbass… come back here.”

Bobby pauses. The door’s still cracked open, the hallway light spilling in, but he hesitates like he’s been yanked back by some invisible leash.

“You really wanna go out there alone after all that? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Bobby’s eyes flicker, and for a second, he looks like he wants to argue.

Erik holds up a hand, cutting him off. “Nope. Come here.”

Bobby gives a shaky breath and turns back.

Erik opens his arms with a grunt, pulling him into this unexpectedly tight, almost protective hug. His chest rumbles low as Bobby melts into the embrace, the tension draining from his shoulders before Erik pushes him into your arms.

“Dumbass,” Erik mutters, the edges of his lips twitching into something like a smile. “You’re lucky you got me. Nobody else would’ve put up with your shit today.”

Bobby laughs softly, voice muffled against your bare skin. “Thanks, man.”

Erik pulls back, brushing a stray hair from Bobby’s forehead, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Now go put some clothes on before I change my mind and kick your ass again.”

[x-prettyboy-x]

I LOOOVEEDD DOMESTICATED !! The part about the street cat turning into a fat, spoiled, indoor cat was so good ughh

if you're down, could you do more domestic scenarios? I'm so into fluff rn hdushs maybe erik asking Bobby and Julia for help in baking a cake for you as a birthday surprise (I feel like Julia's gonna be the only functioning adult in this scenario ngl)

Surrounded by Idiots

Bestie, you're my mutual. I'd write the most out of pocket shit if you asked me to, so ofc. I hope this fits your request, once i got the idea for this chaos i couldnt let it go. So sorry it's so short. Sidenote: I 100% looked up an actual fuckin cake recipe for this even though there was absolutely no reason to.

Pairing: Erik Campbell x Reader(Though reader isn't present until the end)

Warnings: none

Contents: Siblings dynamics, Julia being the only one with common sense(until she isnt), Bobby just happy to be included and caught in the crossfire.

Wc; 700

No gendered language used:)

Masterlist

Erik had begged. Yes, begged, for Julia and Bobby to help him out with this cake. He'd tried it by himself first and damn near set the kitchen on fire because he forgot the cake was in the oven- definitely not cause he got wrapped up playing the game- he just has a bad memory.

Bobby was happy to help, Julia not so much. But she agreed eventually, after Erik may or may not have agreed to give her whatever tattoo she wanted for free.

Thats how he ended up in this situation, cake ingredients laid out on the counter in front of them while Julia read a recipe off her phone and Bobby just waited for instructions.

"Okay, Bobby. Grease the pan, Erik preheat the oven to 350." Julia hummed, setting her phone down and grabbing a bowl to start mixing the dry ingredients.

"Remind me again why we couldn't just make a box cake?" Erik rolled his eyes, preheating the oven and leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, "I used a box cake last time."

Julia scoffed, turning to him with a hand on her hip "Yeah? And that worked out so well for you, didnt it? This kitchen still smells like burning cake. We're making it from scratch because your partner deserves better than a box cake for putting up with you everyday."

"Wow, thanks Jules." Erik gave her the most fake smile he could manage, watching her add in the wet ingredients and start to mix it together.

Then he had an idea.

Julia gave him a confused look as he dipped his finger into the bowl, "what the fuck are you-"

Erik just grinned as he smeared the cake batter across her face, quickly taking a step back after and licking the excess from his finger "Oops. Gotta say, Jules, browns a good color on you."

Julia took a deep breath to calm herself, turning back to the bowl and carefully pouring it into the pan Bobby had greased. Erik knew better though, there's no way she was gonna let that go. So, he kept his distance while he watched her calmly poor the batter into the pan, and put it into the oven. Erik tilted his head ever so slightly as she walked over to him. By the time he noticed the grin on her face it was too late.

Julia grabbed an egg from the open carton on the counter and smashed it over his head before he had time to react, some of it hitting Bobby in the process. "Oops. Too bad yellow doesn't suit you."

"Oh, its on bitch." Erik scoffed, and within seconds the kitchen was a war zone. Flour and Eggs being thrown, laughs and random swears filling the otherwise quiet room, Erik and Bobby ducked behind a counter like they were dodging bullets.

All 3 of them froze as the front door opened, all of them just praying it was anyone but mom.

You stepped inside and slipped off your shoes, setting your keys down and freezing as you turned to witness the disaster that was once the kitchen.

"What the hell?"

Erik glanced at Bobby and Julia, and within seconds the 3 were on the same page as they slowed walked towards you.

You quickly picked up on what they were doing as you slowly backed away with a small nervous laugh, "Hey, no. It's my birthday. You guys cant do this shit to me on my birthday."

Erik got to you first, wiping cake batter across your face as he kissed you gently, "Happy birthday, baby."

Bobby was way too excited as he tossed a handful of flour at you, Julia quickly following after to smash an egg over your head, the both of them shouting a quick "Happy birthday!"

Let's just say Brenda wasnt at all happy when she came home to her kitchen an absolute mess of cake ingredients, the 4 of you having a food fight and laughing like children.

But once you all had cleaned up the kitchen, you had to admit, the cake wasnt bad. The cake aside, you couldn't be happier with the family you'd one day marry into.

[yupstillaghost]

when will another chapter of the boogeyman drop? ofc no pressure whatsoever because i know you’re busy and that is valid :))

of course with that big big good luck and have fun with the current project/s you’re doing rn <3

Hi there!! I am currently writing the first chapter of my Erik Campbell (from final destination bloodlines) fan fic. Once that's finished and I posted it, then I will start a rough draft of part 3 of The Boogeyman. When I write, I always start with a rough draft and then add things in and edit things as I think of new ideas weither it be right there on the spot or as I am going about my day. After I have a rough draft and I have a whole list of ideas in my head, that's when I lock in and start writing the final draft. You can probably expect part 3 of The Boogeyman sometime at the beginning of next month. And that's probably the most accurate time frame I can give.

I'm very happy that you inquired about it though. It lets me know that people are still interested in more Cryptid! Vessel x reader. So thank you!!