#groupie Au

[gahellhimself-blog]

Hope it’s not too hot for Tumblr…

[wreckedandpolemic]

won’t fuck unless he famous - matty healy

(mdni) in which you're a serial starfucker, and you finally have a chance at the man who tops your wishlist. part of summer75 2024. 3254 words.

warnings: semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), titwank, slightly problematic power dynamic

The energy surrounding you is electric as the final note squeals out of the amplifiers, drawn out as the crowd around you cheers wildly. Fireworks pop and fizz against the inky sky, heralding the end of the evening’s entertainment for so many. Yours, though, is just beginning. As you watch the band leave the stage, your eyes are glued to the frontman with a singular goal in mind: getting under him.

Look. You aren’t famous, by any stretch of the word. Notorious is more like it, a careful balance of easy charm and knowing the right people buying you access nearly anywhere you want. Matty Healy, though, is your white whale, having eluded your grip at every turn, a blank spot in your ever-growing red ledger. You’ve wanted him ever since you first laid eyes on him at 16, screaming along to The 1975 in your bedroom, bars you’d snuck into, the front rows of sold-out arenas.

And you can pinpoint the moment it switched from an idealistic, childish fantasy to a question not of I wish, of if, but of when.

The first time you’d flirted and conned your way backstage at a festival, you were barely legal and making the most of your gap year. It hadn’t led to much, a passing fling with some singer whose album and dick were equally forgettable. The lasting impression of that night was the split-second of eye contact you’d made with Matty as you came — you and the guy hadn’t really tried to hide, just slipped around a corner and backed against a wall. You’ve replayed the memory so many times it’s worn smooth, and you don’t know whether you recall his eyes dilating for a fraction of a second before he stumbled away, or if it was a trick of your mind, imprinted and false.

Either way, he’ll be seeing a lot more than just your o-face if you get your way tonight. Squaring your shoulders and pasting on a blithe smile, fluttering your lashes and describing a nondescript (read: nonexistent) friend who’s crew until the security guard relents and lets you back. By now, you’re an expert in acting like you belong, able not to react when you brush shoulders with celebrities. You know just when to stroke an ego, play up your awe without coming off obsessive, and it’s gotten you under men far more famous than your next target.

The grass is worn through under your feet as you wander up to a bar, carefully scanning for his presence as you scoop up your rum and coke and saunter away. A girl you know is their crew catches your eye, one you’ve met before, the last time you failed to catch Matty’s attention. You wave, and she brightens, dashing up to you like you’re old friends. “Sorry!” she hisses in your ear when she flings her arms around you. “I could not shake that guy.” You laugh, tipping your head back like she said something hilarious, and cast your best disgusted glare at the guy, who thankfully takes the hint. “How’d you get back here, anyway?”

You grin. “Well, you know what they say about lying, right?”

“What, it’s the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off?”

You lean in. “But it’s better if you do.”

She chuckles, eyes alight with mischief. “Hey, you scratch my back, I scratch yours. You want me to introduce you?” Raising an eyebrow, she nods in answer to the question you haven’t even asked. Your eyes practically bug out of your head, unable to hide your shock.

You’d figured that actually getting to him was going to be the hardest part, but clearly it pays to have friends in high places. Steeling yourself, you let your mask of implacable calm fall over your face and follow the girl (whose name you still don’t remember!) as she strolls up to Matty like it’s the most casual thing in the world. He greets her with a smile and a friendly side hug, then lets his gaze flicker over you. He maintains a skilled poker face; if you weren’t so well-versed in what interest looks like on the faces of men like him, you’d miss it entirely, the brief flare of his nostrils, his tongue flickering out to wet his lips, his hand unconsciously raking through his hair.

You let the moment hang for a second, charged as his lips quirk into a half-smile, then introduce yourself. Matty doesn’t remember you, but he recognises you, immediately catching onto exactly what you want. Good. You like it better this way, when you don’t have to play cat and mouse, act coy while they pretend not to want you. As the conversation rolls on around you, Matty starts literally, actually eye-fucking you, gaze lidded as he imagines all the filthy things he’d like to do to you. When there’s a lull, you seize the moment, dipping into your pocket for your out. “Spliff, anyone?”

The others, predictably, decline, so you and Matty wander off until you’re mostly secluded, lights and music fading into the background as you edge towards the tour buses. “I know who you are,” Matty says as you lift the spliff to your lips.

“Then you know what I want,” you say, smirking. The flame from his lighter illuminates him for a second, shadows pooling under his features as he’s cast in an ethereal, golden glow. You inhale deeply, letting the burn in your lungs pull you away from his distracting beauty. You pass Matty the spliff, smoke curling free from your mouth, his gaze glued to your lips. He’s calculating, formulating a response that will give him back his footing. You interrupt before that can happen. “So, why don’t you tell me what you want? You wanna hear how incredible you were tonight? How incredible you’ve been every time I’ve seen you?”

At that, he seems genuinely surprised. “You’ve seen us before?”

The answer comes before you think it through, impassive facade slipping the longer you spend in his presence. “Yeah. This must be, what, the tenth or eleventh time, now?” Matty’s eyes light up, and you thank God for his ego, that his decisions are already being made by his dick and not his rational brain.

“Thought you were just lookin’ for another name in your little black book. But this is personal, isn’t it?” he breathes, voice thick with smoke. “You want me, don’t you, darling?” He leans close, takes a deep pull and slots his lips over yours.

You breathe in greedily, letting the high overtake you, head going hazy with some intoxicating combination of the weed and his hand sliding into your hair. “Yes.”

Matty groans against your lips, the spliff burning forgotten in his other hand. “S’fucking hot. Girl like you, spendin’ all her time looking for a famous fuck, and the whole time you’re just hoping I’ll look your way, right?”

Heat creeps up your spine, warming your cheeks as arousal starts pooling in your belly. You nod, swallowing thickly “Been tryin’ forever. Think about you every fuckin’ night,” you confess, gasping for it as his lips hover cruelly out of reach.

He grins wickedly, backing away to stamp out the spliff. “Why don’t you tell me what you think about, and I’ll decide if you deserve me, yeah? Needy little groupie.” Your thighs clench involuntarily, desire burning in your blood as you search his expression for anything but sincerity.

“Think about waitin’ on my knees for you when you come off stage, lettin’ you take out all your stress on my throat and swallowing like a good girl.” Matty inhales sharply, pupils blowing wide despite his straight face. “Wished you could fuck me backstage, shove your fingers in my mouth to keep me quiet while you just take what you need from me. Knew you’d change my life,” you add, feeding into his ego a little as his smirk grows wider.

Gripping your hips, Matty pulls you in, eyes liquid with desire as your breathing grows laboured. You stumble, crashing into him as his lips meet yours, his kiss commanding. Arousal drips between your legs and you moan into his mouth, knees buckling when he pulls away to mouth at your jaw. “C’mon, darling. Come let me change your life.” His expression is pure arrogance, a man who knows he’s got you exactly where he wants you, wet and needy and made of pure desperation.

You trail after him as he suddenly turns on his heel and strides away, tugging you by the hand and pulling you in for hot, breathless kisses every few steps. Matty knocks the wind from your lungs, pressing you against the outside of their tour bus, kissing and biting possessively at your neck. “Please,” you whimper, writhing under his touch and widening your legs pathetically.

“I don’t think so,” Matty scoffs. “Already bein’ so greedy, baby, gettin’ the dick you’ve been gaggin’ for for so long. M’gonna take my time with you, okay?” You nod frantically, his clothed cock pressing insistently against your core as you soak your panties. Your head is swimming, dizzy and still a little high and disbelieving that Matty fucking Healy has a hand creeping up your thigh. You don’t say a word, not risking anything that could break the spell surrounding you in this breathless moment. “Get your tits out f’me, yeah?”

Thoughtlessly, you obey, tugging your shirt down off your shoulders so your tits spill free, hissing softly at the cold air kissing over your bare skin. Matty groans appreciatively, taking a greedy handful and squeezing hard, a low moan falling from your lips. “You like ‘em?” you murmur, arching up into his touch. “Could fuck ‘em, if you want. S’long as you cum on my face.” His jaw goes slightly slack, suddenly picturing your face painted white and growing impossibly harder against your thigh.

In an instant, your dress is shoved up around your waist and Matty’s tugging your panties down, motioning for you to step out of them when they hit the floor. He tucks them into his pocket with a wicked smirk. “For safekeeping,” he says, kissing his way down your chest until his lips wrap around your nipple. A bolt of arousal strikes in your core at the scrape of his teeth against your sensitive skin, pain flashing under your skin for a second before he soothes you with his tongue. “Such pretty tits, darling. Gonna let me fuck them after I eat you, yeah?”

“Anything you want,” you whine, sliding your hand into his hair to push him back down as he starts to pull away. “Mark me,” you plead. “Please. I need to know this wasn’t a dream when I wake up tomorrow.” You feel Matty smirk against your skin, throwing your head back to allow him access to your neck. He bites a trail of bruises down your neck, collar, over your tits, patches of sore, red skin blooming gloriously under his touch. When Matty drops to his knees, you feel shockingly exposed without his body covering yours, your dress pulled down below your tits and up above your waist so your dripping cunt is bared to the cool night air. Matty’s nails dig into your thighs, pulling your legs further apart so he can slot himself neatly between them.

Your stomach clenches in anticipation. “So fuckin’ wet, baby. D’you get this soaked for everyone before they even touch you, or are you just a little slut for me?” he murmurs, licking a broad, flat stripe across your cunt.  Vision practically whiting out, your answer dies on your tongue, a helpless whine of his name spilling free instead. “C’mon, baby, answer me. Can’t be so dumb already, I’ve hardly touched you,” Matty scoffs, the condescension dripping hot and sticky down your spine.

“Only f’you,” you gasp out. “Fuckin’ dreamed about this, I– oh, fuck,” you moan, his tongue working over your clit in quick, tight circles. You grind down against his mouth, pressure mounting in your belly. You’re on a hair trigger, you can tell, the barest touches already pulling you close. It’s near-Pavlovian, the realisation of all your fantasies exhilarating. Cunt clenching as he tongue-fucks you languidly, you bury one hand in his hair as the other scrambles for purchase against cool metal.

“Close already, aren’t you? So fuckin’ desperate,” Matty croons, fingers coming up to toy with your swollen clit. You buck your hips against his hand, whimpering and pleading incoherently. He laps greedily at you, moaning softly and tugging at your hips so he can drive his tongue ever deeper. He moans into your cunt, the sound vibrating deliciously through you as you tighten your hand in his curls.

Your eyes fall closed, head thudding against metal when you tip it back with a groan. Ecstasy winds tight in your belly, tugging insistently at you as Matty speeds his motions at your clit, every nerve in your body aflame. “Shit, Matty,” you gasp, tense with the effort of holding back. His nails bite into your thighs, the pain at once sweet and grounding, a blissful anchor amongst the night’s unreality. “Feels s’fucking good, Matty.”

Without warning, he pulls away, and you whine pathetically. The sight of him on his knees with his lips and chin dripping with your arousal is almost too much, your legs going weak as you stare unashamedly, cataloguing every second with careful precision. You’re going to fantasise about this night every day for the rest of your fucking life. “Play with your tits for me, okay, angel?”

The epithet makes you hot all over, shivering under his gaze as you obey mindlessly, grasping and pinching at your tits and letting pleasure run over you. You’re helpless against the tide, head thrashing back and forth as Matty makes out with your hole, moaning into your cunt and circling your clit ever faster. Cunt throbbing, you rock your hips, unconscious of anything but Matty’s hands on you, his fingers against your clit, his curls brushing your stomach, his tongue in your cunt. It’s sloppy, soaked with spit and desire, your entire body unspooling under his touch.

“Matty, m’so close, fuck,” you gasp, your words coming out slurred through sick desire. Your heart is hammering, prey caught in a trap you couldn’t escape from if you wanted to, Matty devouring you as you’re pinned, immobile against the pure ecstasy roaring in your ears. “Oh, my fucking God,” you cry, teetering precariously on the edge.

“You gonna cum, darling? Gonna fuckin’ soak me? Go ahead, angel, cum f’me,” Matty murmurs, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking hard. Your knees buckle, your orgasm crashing over you so hard you practically fall out of your body, pure pleasure wiping your mind clean. You can feel it in every inch of your body, your every nerve alive with it, hot and sweet and seemingly neverending. Moaning helplessly, you start to sway on your feet, head swimming in ecstasy that’s making you dizzy and dumb. Matty’s hands are steadying at your waist, electricity jumping from everywhere his skin touches yours.

His lips and chin are fucking soaked, glistening with your arousal, visceral evidence of what you’ve just done. You lick into his mouth greedily when he kisses you, something illicit thrilling in your veins as your bare tits press against the leather of his jacket, the zipper cool against your heated skin. The contrast of him still being fully-clothed while you’re exposed makes you shiver from something entirely separate from cold. Matty steps back, eyes glued to your tits as a smirk stretches across his slick lips. “My eyes are up here,” you scoff.

“Yeah, and your tits are down here.” You can’t find it in yourself to feel shame at the rush of arousal that sweeps over you at his words.

You grab one of your tits, kneading it gratuitously and thumbing over your nipple. “Still wanna fuck ‘em?” His eyes blow wide, shooting you a look that says what kind of question is that? and fumbling to let you into the tour bus. You scramble breathlessly after him, letting him push you down onto a bed and desperately shoving his jacket off his shoulders. He tugs his shirt off, and you drink in the sight of him shirtless from up close, sweat glistening on his toned chest.

There’s a visible wet spot on his boxers when he strips out of his jeans, you notice with a bolt of pride-tinged arousal, your mouth watering as his cock springs free, thudding stickily against his belly. “Shit, got me so fuckin’ hard, angel. Gonna let me fuck those pretty tits, let me cum all over your face?” Matty kneels over you, slowly stroking his dripping cock as he watches your chest heave.

“Please,” you breathe, gazing up at him as he leans down to spit on your tits, the slick, messy slide sending a pulse of heat between your legs. His lips part around a guttural moan as he slides between your tits, thrusting shallowly and groaning out soft praises. You drop your jaw, sticking out your tongue to lick over his head, the salt taste of him intoxicating.

Precum and spit smear across your chest, rhythmic moans filling the tiny, cramped space as Matty fucks your tits. “Doin’ so good, baby. Like a little fuckin’ sex toy f’me, such a good girl. Y’look so pretty, baby,” he coos, your entire body flushing under his affections. You kitten-lick over his head every time he thrusts, his answering moans heating your core, arousal dripping from your cunt. “Such a little cumslut, angel.”

“Mhmm,” you moan, arching your back and pinching a nipple, dizzy with desire. “M’your cumslut, Matty.” His pace speeds, sloppy as he drools precum over your chest and against your tongue. You lap it up eagerly, drunk on him. Pure lust is written across Matty’s face, jaw slack as he watches himself disappear between your tits, awed.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Matty gasps, his cheeks hot and lips wet with drool. “M’getting close, angel. Where do you want me?”

“On my face,” you breathe, the words coming without you even having to think. “In my mouth, please.” With what looks like a monumental effort, he climbs off you, fisting his cock gracelessly. Eagerly, you watch him fuck his fist, jaw hanging open expectantly. With a low moan of your name, Matty spills across your face, ropes of cum splashing hot against your cheeks and on your waiting tongue.

Closing your eyes, you swallow deliberately, moaning at the taste of him and smiling beatifically. “Good girl,” he grins, panting slightly and watching you fondly. “You need anything? Want me to get you cleaned up?” God, you don’t know if you can take him being all sweet with you on top of it all. You’re going to do something embarrassing like beg for his number if you don’t change the mood, and quickly.

“What, you only good for one round, or somethin’? Getting too old to show your groupies a proper fuck?” you taunt.

The glint in Matty’s eye turns dangerous, and you gulp. “Greedy girl’s not satisfied with my cum all over her face, s’that it? You want more?” You murmur out an affirmative, anticipation tense in your belly. “My little cockslut,” he smirks, climbing over you and caging you in with his arms around your head. “Don’t worry, baby. M’gonna give you what you need.”

[papabigtoes]

Murderkrakish says DILF (DAMN, I LOATHE FISHING)

[crimsonlovebartylus]

groupie regulus, wearing a mesh shirt and black leather shorts, and docs, leaving his long pale legs on full display, while wearing an exclusive all black penny lane or cheetah print jacket, leaning against the railing looking up at 80's Rockstar Barty Crouch Jr who's looking down at him with a smirk and hunger.

plot twist: they fuck and get married in vegas. fuck yeah the 80s.

[completelymindfucked]

This just in! Groupie touring with band, rumored to be lead singers brother!

[eyesxxyou]

Backstage Show Pt.5

★🎸 {} .. rockstar!hobie brown x groupie!reader

rating. m

word count. 3.6k

synopsis. a game of body shots goes terribly wrong when things gets heated and hobie walks in on you. you two are forced to come to terms with your feelings

or

hobie gets jealous and fucks you

🍒・．❕warnings. bathroom sex, rough sex, jealous sex, body shots, sorta kinda cheating but not really since they aren't togeteher, claiming kink, writing on v, bathroom sex, oral (m recieving), unprotected sex, p in v sex, a whole lotta angst at the end, yall ain't ready for this

Backstage Show pt.4

Hobie Brown was always so sure of himself. He was sure in his pursuit of music as a career, sure in his bandmates and their ability to perform, sure in his own capabilities when it comes to nearly everything in life. He loved his life just as it was, the glamor, the weed, the alcohol, the fans. He was so sure that he adored it all.

But Hobie could not be sure of you.

He was initially interested in you because you were pretty and that hole between your legs could constitute a portal to heaven. You were nothing but a way to let off some steam before or after a show. A pretty little thing he could have on his arm just for him to make up for the fact that he was a horrible, lonely, asshole who used girls for his own pleasure because he was a self-sabotaging loser. And once the people he date finally figured that out and eventually left, he’d find someone new to bide his time with until the cycle continued.

And now he could not think of a world where you're not right there by his side. He can't imagine a world where you aren't his girl. Your loyalty was unmatched, your dedication, your silent worship every time you looked at the profile and his slender, beautiful face you simply wanted to run your fingers alone and kiss.

Did you know he wanted to do just the same? DId you know that he thought the world of you? The only difference between you and him was that he had the courage to do it, to rub his fingers upon your lips and trace your jaw where the tips of them touch? It's because you were always a little more his than he was yours. You'd never dare call him yours, never try to make him feel constricted in fear that he may ghost you. 

But because you were not necessarily his and he was certainly not yours. You thought it perfectly fine when Mace was in your ear as he usually was talking about doing body shots with the rest of them. His hands were holding your waist as he pulled you into his body and whispered in your ear that it’ll just be a “bit of fun, nothin’ serious”. You could hear the smirk in his voice, feel his lips curl against the shell of your ear.

You were hesitant at first, glancing over at Hobie who was talking to a roady about stage management, but gained the courage to go off with him and the others to lick tequila shots off of each other's bodies. Why would he not be okay with it? He let the others have their way with you, body shots would be where he crossed the line?

You sat down in the group and watched for a moment. They had gotten a couple of other groupies to play the game with them, shirts all removed as they lay back and let alcohol get poured on them. You were hypnotized by tongues, by the giggling, but the heated makeouts once they reached the top of each other's bodies, mouths seeking each other without discrimination.

They went around the circle, licking each other’s sculpted bodies until it was your turn. You were eager to try. You removed your shirt and layed on your back while Eli poured a shot on the curve of your diaphragm, trickling north and south very quickly before his mouth caught it. 

It was warm and hot, his mouth that is. Even hotter watching his tongue lap up your diaphragm and down your naval, eyes never leaving yours as you let out a shaky breath. He made his way down to the waist of your skirt and kissed the mound of your pussy before going back up to kiss you, the others cheering you on into depravity. You kissed him back, thinking only of Hobie's lips on yours, his hands on your body. 

Eli grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer, your bodies melding into each other much like clay. He smelled vaguely like Hobie, like smoke and musk but a different cologne. All you wanted as Hobie, Eli meant nothing to you but he knew how to make you feel good.

Then his voice manifested behind you.

"Wha' in the bloody fuckin' hell is this, then?" He reached between the two of you and pushed Eli away, your lips tearing apart from each other as you gasped and looked up at him. "Hobie– It's no-"

"Oh, don' gimme tha' bullshit. Come'ere." He did not reach for you, did not help you up, forcing you to sit in your embarrassment as you grabbed your shit and stood to your feet. Hobie grabbed your wrist and pulled you along with him out of the room and towards a nearby bathroom in the busiest part backstage. You held your shirt to your chest to cover whatever little modesty you had left as he put you in the bathroom and closed and locked the door behind the two of you.

His lips were on yours so fast you hardly had any time to comprehend it. It was rough, possessive, demanding all you had and more to offer. He swallowed your moans as you pushed your body against his and dropped your shirt to the ground. “Hobie–” You whined, begging for him to let you explain. His large hands were pulling your clothes off of you until you were just in your bra and your panties were partially pulled down your supple thighs.

“You must like sluttin’ yaself out, don’cha?” He picked you up with a surprising amount of strength and set you down on the sink. “Greedy lil’ whore. One just isn’t enough for you.” Hobie reached around in his pockets to find the marker he always carried around for autographs. Once he finally found it, he uncapped it with his teeth. “Guess I’ll haf’ta remind ya who you belong to.”

In great big, capitol letters, he wrote above the mound of your pussy like a tattoo, like an autograph ‘HOBIES PUSSY’. Hobie capped the marker and tossed it away somewhere before pulling you in and kissing you again with ravenous fervor. He was angry, he was jealous, you realized. 

The thought of him being jealous made your heart swell. Jealousy meant that in some way, he cared, even a little. You kissed him back, let him have his way with you as he licked and bit down the length of your body, your skin still tasting of tequila and bad decisions. You parted your legs a little further as he made his way towards where you needed him the very most.

His breath the warm, fanning along your outer lips, teasing what could be but never quite getting there. Hobie paused a moment and looked up at you. "Nah– you don' deserve i'. That's a privilege." He let you go, standing up and backing away. His body, once warm and covering your partially naked one, suddenly retreated from you and now all you know is the cold and humiliation. You ached. You wanted him badly, needed him.

"Hobie, please." You begged, hopping down from the sink, your hands coming to adjust your panties. His claim on your body still visible through the thin fabric of your underwear. "I know you're mad but it was just some stupid game. I wasn't actually gonna fuck him."

Hobie didn't say anything, didn't look at you from across the small bathroom you two were locked in. He was so good at making people feel unimportant, unheard. He was good at making people feel like they didn't exist in his presence. 

What if he told you he had never even looked at a single person since he first fucked you? Never placed his hands on another person other than to sign tits as some fans love when he did. People have flirted, men and women and everyone in between, but he brushed them all off. What's casual, one time sex when he has you there to offer him something so much more? Would that change what you said? Change the way you brushed it off as if it were nothing?

You got down on your knees in front of him, kissing the crotch of his pants where his cock lay half-hard and growing. "Please forgive me." Your words muffled as you spoke into his dick that was beginning to stir more and more. He was still pretending to ignore you but his body could not. It wanted you as badly as your body wanted him. "'m gonna make it up to you."

Your hands worked his assortment of belts and his jeans until his half-hard length sat before you, twitching with the rushing of blood. You spat into the soft palm of your hand and used that to work your hand up and down the length of his member, your thumb rubbing over the sensitive slit at the tip of his head.

He was hard in your hands in no time, a few short huffs leaving his nose as he attempted to deny himself the pleasure. You knew he would break soon, but it would take more than some feeble handjob to do it. You kissed the wet tip and parted your lips to let him sink into the hot wet cavern of your mouth, your tongue running along the vein on the underside of his cock. 

Hobie shuddered, finally looking down at you and the way your mouth wrapped around him. You took him as deep as you could go, a little more than halfway before your throat constricted and you gagged around him. You looked at him through teary-eyes you drew back, leaving his cock all wet with your saliva before pushing forward again. You bobbed your head at a steady pace, your hands braced against his thighs.

Oh– you sucked dick like a champ, slurping him up like he was an popsicle, looking him up with those big, innocent eyes of yours. You hollowed your cheeks for more suction, letting him go with a pop of your lips before taking him right back into your hot mouth.

Hobie hissed with pleasure, moaning softly as he reached down and gathered up your hair in his hands in some makeshift ponytail. “Jus’ like tha’. Nice, stupid slut, tha’s all ya are.” How his body shuddered for you, for those wet, plump lips of yours, for your tongue that ran over his slit over and over and drove him absolutely insane. He couldn’t stand you and the way you could make him crazy for you, for your mouth, your body, you in all your ways.

He forced you to go faster, pushed you a little further until his cock slid down the tight pocket of your throat. He selfishly took his pleasure in you, slapped your cheek lightly when you resisted him out of instinct. Your throat tightened around his cock and if he were to look underneath, he’d find the outline of his dick in your throat.

Hobie fucked your throat the way he wanted to, fast and deep until your nose met his pelvis and your saliva dribbled down his balls. You were nothing but a means for his pleasure, a way to get off, a sex toy. You offered yourself up to get back into his good graces, not wanting him to hold a grudge against you over some stupid game.

He fucked your throat raw, nice and deep, slowing down to give you a break, speeding up when you got too comfortable with the slow and steady pace. Hobie pushed you to your limits, fucked your mouth until you were lightheaded as hand to tap his leg to get him to give you a break. When he let you go, you broke away with a gasp, coughing as your lungs pleaded for air. Hobie grasped you, picked you up with overwhelming ease and set you back on the sink, tearing your panties away with a rip of fabric like it meant nothing to him. His signature on the top of your pussy spurred him on as he stroked his cock between the sopping lips of your pussy and sunk into you in one swift motion of desperation. 

You let out a gasp, shuddering at the feeling of his cock filling you so suddenly. His tip kissed your cervix before retreating and thrusting back into you. He gave you no time to adjust, no time to savor the feeling of him slowly inching his way into you. He was fucking you hard and fast and you were loving every moment of it. He couldn’t wait. He needed to be inside you, claiming you, owning you.

"Hobie! Mmh~" You moaned loudly enough for anyone outside of the bathroom to hear. It's just what he wanted, for everyone to know that you were taken, that you were his. He had your legs hanging on either side of his shoulders, toes curling behind his head as he brutalized your cunt.

The way he fucked you could only be described as abuse. It was ruthless, desperate, selfish. Hobie was not at all focused on your pleasure, if you happened to cum during all of this, that would not have been his goal, just a side effect. He was out for his own orgasm, he deserved it, you belong to him.

But did you really? He never applied labels. You were only his in his mind and you had only broken a made up rule he had kept in his brain. 

“Fuck! Ohh~ God, please…I–” Your voice was louder, hands grasping at anything and everything you could from the sink to Hobie’s neck. Your jaw hung open, lips forming a small ‘o’ shape. Your back was against the cool mirror and you wondered in the back of your mind what you looked like right now. Did you look like a whore? You imagined you did, with wild hair and smudged makeup. He probably thought you a slut, just making your rounds with his bandmates until you collected them all like Pokemon.

Hobie readjusted his grip on your thighs, his hold almost bruising as he nudged your jaw with his nose. "Look at i'. Look at the way I fuck you." Your eyes were squeezed shut, hands gripping the sides of the sink to brace yourself. Slowly, you opened your eyes and looked down at the sight before you. His cock bullied its way into you, the lips of your pussy parted for him so nicely. Just above the mess he made of your cunt, a creamy, white ring sitting neatly at the base of his cock, was his signature, 'HOBIES PUSSY’. The words made you moan, made your head face back and your back arch as he fucked you up.

Only he could do you like this, have you screaming his name in the violent rush of an orgasm so everyone could hear the way he fucked you. The sound of him pushing into you was wet and creamy with the residue of an orgasm pulsing through you. Your body shuddered, your hands grasping at him, tugging at his shirt, pulling him closer, teetering on the edge of tears. Your climax crashed upon you, left you desolate and destroyed and sobbing. 

He didn’t stop fucking you, didn’t slow down. “Look a’ me.” One of his hands grasped you chin and forced you to look him in the eye. You could hardly see him through the glaze over your eyes, the tears swelling then falling down your face, taking mascara and eyeliner with it. 

“You see wha’cha done to yaself?” You let out a cry as he gripped you tighter, fucked you harder, his pelvis rubbing against your aching clit with each thrust into your used up cunt. You could hardly take it, barely stand it. Your body scrambled to get away from the brutalization. Hobie held you down. “Why ya runnin’, luv? You said ya make i’ up t’me. Stay righ’ here and take this dick since ya so hungry to be fucked.” You could do nothing but take it, take the jealousy and angry way he fucked you. 

Hobie kissed you when he was close to orgasm. His teeth chewed softly on your bottom lips as he asked you to scream a little louder. You wrapped your body around his, kept you so close he could barely pull out enough to cum. He made a mess of you, coating the outside and inside of your pussy in creamy white.

“You’re such a fuckin’ was’eful, whore.” Hobie dragged his fingers through his cum and pushed it into your leaking hole, watching the white ring of cum forming at the base of his knuckles. When he pulled out his fingers, you slid down from the sink on shaky legs and reached for some toilet paper to clean yourself up while Hobie washed his hands.

There was a long stretch of silence as you got dressed. You couldn’t help but look at the curl in Hobie’s lip through the mirror. He was really upset about it and you figured you should say something to help the situation. You didn’t want any animosity between the two bandmates.

“It truly didn’t mean anything.”

Hobie turned off the water and flicked the water off his hands and he turned to look at you. “Is tha’ s’pposed to make me feel better? I walked in an’ you were shirtless, makin’ out with ma mate. What the fuck was I s’pposed to think. Aw nah, she’s jus’playin’? Come off i’.”

You didn’t understand why he was so upset. He always made it very clear that you two were nothing official. He was not tied to you and you were not tied to him and it didn’t matter either way. “I don’t understand, Hobie. Are we together or are we not because I’m tired of always following you around like a puppy dog wondering when you’d actually look at me as more than just a sex doll you can call up when you need to get your dick wet.” It came out so suddenly, your quiet anger, your silent resentment.

Silence once again. The two of you stared at each other for a long time. 

“I haven’t touched a single person since I first met you.” Hobie admitted, almost throwing it in your face. You scoffed at him. “That’s not fair, Hobie. You know that’s not fair. You always made it clear that we weren’t together. And I’ll have you know that before tonight, I haven’t been with anyone that you haven’t given me express permission to be with.”

“I’m not holding that against you, luv. You don’t even have to bring it up.”

“Then what do you want from me? Are we together or is it just casual? You’re giving me all these mixed signals. One second you’re ghosting me and the next, you’re talking about how obsessed you are with me. Hobie—” Your voice broke, choking on your own words as more tears dappled your messy cheeks. “Hobie, I love you.” You said it, you laid your heart out in front of you and gave him all the opportunity to crush it under his boot.

His lips twitched and he shook his head, placing his hand upon his temples. What did he expect? She hung on his every action, his every word because she hated him? She was in love with him before she ever even knew him. She was in love with him the moment he first interacted with him. She worshiped him like a god.

“It won’ last, babe.” He sighed. “I’m a fuckin’ dickhead an’ an asshole. I don’ do love. One day you’re gonna wake up and realize tha’ I’m not worth ya love or ya time.” He pushed you away because he couldn’t bear to wake up to that day where you don’t look at him with that spark in your eye or you don’t hang on his every word. He can’t face the day where he figures out that he’s in love and you’re not.

“That’s for me to decide.”

“Well, I’m makin’ the decision for ya. Piss off, would ya? I don’t fuckin’ love you ‘n I neva will.” Hobie flung you off with a dismissive wave of his hand like the beads of water that still clung to his skin. It was the period on the matter, the end all be all of this conversation. He left no room for further argument. He wanted you gone and that was that. Who were you to fight it?

So once you were all dressed, you opened the door and looked back at him, tears threatening you to show weakness. You would never give him the satisfaction of crying in front of him. A young you would have begged on your knees. A naive you would have asked him not to turn you away. But you were better now, knew Hobie for what he really was and he was right, he was just some selfish asshole who could never love you.

“Go fuck yourself, Hobie.” 

[steviesbicrisis]

The drama is cleared, the gay ending we all deserve is here.

Corroded Flowers (19/20) - AO3 Prev | Next

And so, this is it. There are a million things I'd like to say but I want to leave them for the epilogue. I wanna thank every single person who has been supporting me through this au, if I got until this point is all thanks to you <3

As for the epilogue, it will be a Q&A to show some stuff I wasn't able to include until now! so if you have any questions you'd like to ask to the fruity four, stuff I've left out, things you're curious about etc. please let me know and I'll do my best to include it!

----

Taglist: @legallymarriedtorobinbuckley @loserwithagodcomplex @unclewaynemunson @bookfrog242 @goawayrvse @whimsicalwitchm @lightwoodbanethings @nelotegreitic @kerlypride @munsonmanor @brassreign @e-dollly @yes-im-your-mom @howincrediblysapphicofyou @courtjestermunson @nancewheelerwife @injectingelation @goingsteddi3 @a-little-unsteddie @undreamingscatworld @crykea @stevesbipanic @narcissist-era @hagbaby420 @feministfandomgeek @scarletzgo @whydamnitwhy

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[oneforthemunny]

groupie love |rockstar!eddie munson x groupie!reader|

prompt: the face of corroded coffin, eddie munson, has a reputation of being out there, rough, raunchy, leaving his fans and tabloids in a tizzy. after seeing him in concert, you try and become one of the lucky ladies he beds for the night. the night turns to one you'll never forget.

takes place before nepo baby!reader. kinda the backstory, lore of eddie and his raunchy ways lol <3

contains: bdsm themes, hard!mean!dom!rockstar!eddie, groupie!sub!reader, degrading, blindfolding, spanking, oral male receiving, big time exhibitonism, use of drugs, language, filthy filthy filthy. MINORS ABSOLUTELY DO NOT ENTER!!!! 18+

You bounced in your studded heels, fishnet stockings ripped around the toes, the aftermath of walking barefoot to try and get to the pit, jumping and screaming the angry, heavy lyrics with the rest of the audience. You'd shimmied your way through the drunken, inked up men, punching the air and screeching, adrenaline from the performance hot-wiring a new kind of rage. You couldn't blame them; the heavy bass shaking the stadium, the screams of the fans, and most importantly the band, Corroded Coffin, standing right in front of you, putting on a performance of a lifetime.

He was on his knees, so close to you that you could smell his cologne, mixed with the reek of weed, booze, and sweat that exuded from the audience. Eddie Munson, bad boy, front man of the band, always shredding the guitar and grunting filthy lyrics into the mic. Parents around the world were repulsed with him, with the entirety of the band, their vulgar ways and even worse press, scandalous and obscene. It's what excited you, and millions of other horny, rebellious ragers- that was apparent with their album sales and the size of this stadium, sold out and rocking.

Their recent press had really stirred up a fury with the media. Eddie, along with Gareth and Nick, seen strutting out of a well known BDSM club in West Hollywood, some leather clad, desperate girl clutched to him, collar and harness on, his leather jacket covering the rest of her- furious red hand prints on her ass that showed through the paparazzi pictures.

They'd never been conservative, quiet about the kind of sex they had, rough and nasty. It's probably why they had a line of groupies waiting behind the venue after each show, hoping desperately that their manager would pick them to come backstage. That they too might get a chance to be used and abused by the rockstars, leaving on shaky legs to tell their friends unimaginable stories.

Eddie's eyes locked with yours. How you'd managed to get that close to the stage, sneaking in behind a burlier man, was beyond you. His tongue was out, lewd licking suggestions between two wiggling fingers that mimicked a 'V' shape. You grinned, winking back at him, sultry and flirty- the way they liked it, all rockstars were the same, after all.

Eddie smirked, eyes flitting to the next screaming desperate girl, picking up another lacy, thong that was thrown on stage. He pushed the crotch of the panties to his nose, eyes closed dramatically when he inhaled, the crows roared. "Whew, that is one sweet pussy right here." Eddie grinned salaciously into the mic, twirling the panties around his fingers.

"Y'all need to get a whiff, here," Eddie pulled the strings of the thong back on his fingers, a make shift slingshot that he launched into the crowd. The crowd bustled, fighting and tearing each other apart for the tiny piece of lace, Eddie laughing in amusement from the stand.

"Animals. I swear." He laughed, shaking his head, looking over at Jeff. "I love it." Eddie grinned, downing the water bottle of vodka beside him. "This one goes out to that sweet pussy out there, whoever you are. Here's Super Soaker."

You blushed, tummy twisting and erupting in butterflies. You looked around carefully, trying to eye the girl who's panties he'd claimed, a tinge of jealousy in your veins. What if he picked her over you? Maybe you should've thrown your panties on stage- Well, you would've if you were wearing any.

Under the nylon, black tights you were bare, for easier access. Tight, red, leather mini skirt that hugged and squeezed your ass deliciously. Your top, a black corset with hooks and zippers- you had to go to the seedy part of town, a run down sex shop, where you'd picked it out amongst the whips, masks, gags, and paddles that lined the walls. It made you clench, mind trailing back to the girl Eddie had on his arm in the tabloid. You picked up a little collar, black and snug, tossing it on top of the corset.

You hoped he'd see it and be reminded of that night. Not that he remembered the girl or much of anything- his coke blown eyes told you that- but the actions of the night. The handprints on her ass, his seed spilling down her legs, cheeks red and neck bruised with hickeys. You wanted that so badly you'd do anything for it. Your copy was worn, corners tearing where you clamped it, rubbing yourself furiously at night to the image, the thought that he might do that to you. You prayed he would.

The concert had ended nearly an hour ago, the bitter cold of the air outside the stadium left you shivering and shaking, clambered together with the other desperate girls near the backdoors. The large, black SUVs were still running and parked behind you, so you knew they were still in there. Your breath clouded and fogged in front of you, teeth chattering in the chill of the night, but you refused to cover up- that was rule number one. Which is why the three sweet, doe eyed girls next to you, covered and cozy in their coats, would be the first to get rejected.

"Alright, alright, back!" The door opened, a gruff looking man, dressed in all black and a shirt that read 'SECURITY' in white, blocked letters. "Make room, ladies! I know you're desperate, but c'mon, make a path!" He barked.

You pressed your lips in a hard line, huffing when you moved back, shuffling to create a very narrow path with the rest of the girls. Then you saw him. Wild curls, frizzed and puffed with the aftermath of the show, leather jacket and heavy boots stomping through the wet asphalt, the other five members following behind him. He didn't look up, lit cigarette between his lips, blowing air and ignoring the cries and pleads from the other girls, stomping to the car.

Your heart sank, smile dropping when they got in, not even so much as an arrogant grin or snarky comment; nothing.

A disheveled man in an opened button up, eyes blood shot and nose twitching scrambled out the doors, security beside him. He scanned the rows, then looking at the writing on a torn piece of paper, rubbing his nose furiously with a twitch.

"Ok, I need, you, you," He scanned the lines, eyes flickering back from the lists to all of you, lined up and desperate like call girls. Like this was an audition and you were chosen for a call back. "You, You-wait, not you, sorry, sweetheart. You, yeah in the red, and," He turned, eyes locking on yours bored, looking down at the paper, then back at you. "You," He nodded.

Your heart stopped, fists clenching and biting back an excited smile. The man didn't wait, shoving his hands in his coat pocket, and motioning to the security guard to let the chosen girls follow. "C'mon, quickly now. Once in a lifetime ladies. Let's go."

The six of you scurried behind him in a line, ducklings to a mother goose- a very coked out, manly, mother goose. Heels clacking against the asphalt, eyes cutting to each other with excited grins.

Your head craned over your shoulder, looking at the desperate girls who pouted and cried, envious glares shot towards all of you as you piled in the car. You pulled yourself in, hunching over to find a seat in the rows.

"Back there, sugar," The man from before pointed from the passenger seat. "Very back. Last row with Ed."

Your heart raced, ducking down to hide your smile, shimmying through through the small area towards the back. Each of the girls were cuddled up, close with their chosen member. A haze of smoke filled the van already, blunts and cigarettes blurring and clouding your vision.

"Hi there," Eddie greeted, brown eyes half lidded. He looked so cool, so calm, spread out in the seats, thighs wide and arm laid out down the length of the leather. You could see his inked skin, the tiny etchings and details you'd seen a million times, now more prominent.

"Hi," You grinned. "This seat taken?" You purred in a teasing tone.

Eddie took a long drag of his cigarette, flicking the ash into the cup holder by the tinted windows. "All yours," His words poured out with the cloud of smoke. "Saved it just for you, baby."

You smirked, thankful the darkness of the van and the smoky haze concealed your blush, sitting next to him, close but not desperate. Thighs touching, but leaned back so you could see him, so he could see you.

"What's your name?" Eddie asked through slow drags of the cigarette. You told him, eyes batting and a little grin on your lips. He repeated it slowly, letting every letter, syllable roll slowly off his tongue.

"That was a killer show." You smiled. "One of the bests I've seen."

Eddie nodded slowly. "You see a lot of shows?" He asked, but you knew what he was implying. You do this often?

"Not all the time, but I've been to a few." You answered cooly. I'm experienced, but not a pro.

Eddie smirked, dimples deepening on the right side of his face. He bummed his cigarette, shifting so his hand was on your tight clad thigh, rolling high up towards the hem of your little leather skirt. "I appreciate you saying that. Glad you had fun." He purred, sweet.

You were shocked, intrigued. Most rockstars wanted you to smother them in praises, tell them how great they are, whether it was their performance on stage or through whiny cries in the back of the tourbus or hotel rooms about how good they were making you feel. Eddie didn't have to be nice to you. He had a million other options that would do anything to be where you were now, some of them even in the car with you, cuddled next to Nick or Darius.

"Yeah, I did. Thanks." You smiled, biting back a flustered blush. His hands were toying with your skirt still, fingers moving and traveling in teasing slow circles towards your hot center. It had you clenching, thighs squirming and pressing together. "It was really entertaining. You don't slow down, do you?" You grinned, teasingly.

His brow lifted, amused. "What was your favorite song?" He asked, fingers tickling the hem of your tights that ran through your slit, warm and damp.

"Hm, that's a tough one." You purred, breath stuttering with his movements. He'd done this before too, that was obvious. "Triple G is always my favorite. It was so cool to see live." You mewled, eyes batting towards him, hips grinding into his touch.

Triple G or Good, Giving, and Game was one of their raunchier songs. Risqué and vulgar from the newest album, all centered around the motto used in BDSM play (according to the expose piece you'd read in a gossip column). The track featured snaps of a whip in the background, and Eddie always brought out a crop or paddle on stage, swinging it around then throwing it into the audience when he sang the infamous lyric about "having his ways to make bad girls behave".

Eddie seemed to like your answer, brows lifting in amusement, but his eyes darkened int something sinister, it made you pulse. "Yeah?" Eddie asked, his thumb pressing hard through the material of your tights to your clit, making you whine and jump. "You GGG, baby? You even know what that means?"

"Of course, I do." Your voice wavered, not nearly as sincere and strong as you wanted it to be. You were melting under his touch.

Eddie hummed, blowing air from his nose. "I see a million girls like you, all dressed in this cute little leather stuff because it's what they think I like." His mouth was near your ear, breath tickling you, goosebumps covering your arms. His thumb was painfully slow, teasing you. "And I do. I think you look hot, 's why you're back here." He grinned.

You whimpered, grinding into his hand, eyes watching his wrist flex and rotate between your legs. "But are you really into it?" Eddie asked, eyes dark on you. His other hand grabbed your jaw, pulling you to look at him, noses brushing in the closeness. "Are you really Triple G, or you just looking to tell all your friends about how you fucked another rockstar? Another notch in your belt?"

Your head spun, heart hammering in your chest. His question was dark with an unfamiliar edge. Degrading and mean you could take- you'd been tag teamed by Nikki Six and Tommy Lee last summer- but this was making you falter. You supposed that's what he wanted, judging by his intense stare, thumb still mercilessly working you.

"You really game, baby?" Eddie purred, low and gruff, voice raspy from the show and the cigarette.

"I'm game." You croaked out, teeth clenched, coming closer and closer to the edge.

"That why you wore this little collar?" Eddie growled. "You want me to use it?"

"Yes, please." Your eyes rounded, biting down on your lip, toes curing. The coil in your tummy was getting tighter and tighter, his stare and fingers making you grow hotter, melting into his touch. "Please, sir." You whimpered, pathetically.

Eddie's eyes lit up, shocked or impressed, you weren't sure. Either way, you knew you'd done it. Sealed the deal. You'd finally get what you wanted, to be ruined by Eddie Munson.

"Oh?" Eddie grinned. "Alright, baby, alright." He purred, lips brushing your jaw, electrified under the light touch, leaving you shivering and squirming. "Let's see how game you are. How good you can get for me."

Eddie pulled his hand away quickly, falling back into his seat, legs spread, cock hard and straining against his pants. You gasped at the loss of touch, looking at him with betrayed, rounded eyes. "My first rule," Eddie reached for his lighter, tapping his pack of Marlboros against the heel of his palm, his eyes lifted to you darkly. "You don't cum without Master's permission."

You squirmed but nodded obediently, eyes trained on his growing erection. "Yes, Master," You muttered, the flick of the lighter and Eddie's inhale buzzing in your ears next to you.

Eddie smirked, lips curling around the cigarette for a long drag. "We're gonna have fun tonight, baby. I can tell."

The van ride was longer than you expected, but you were sure time was slowing down, inching and crawling because you were buzzing with excitement. Their hotel was in the neighboring city from the concert, hopeful that it would be concealed from badgering paparazzi or crazed fans.

Unfortunately for them, the flashing lights of cameras flickered, lining the front of covered entrance all the way to the door, hotel security lines with roped and pushing them back.

"Goddammit, Nelson, I thought you said we'd be good!" Gareth's open hand palmed slapped against the door.

"I thought we would!" Nelson, the coked out manager of the boy, exclaimed from the passenger seat. "I bet it was that little bitch at the venue. Fuckin' knew she heard. Probably called to make a buck." Nelson seethed.

Your eyes, wide and watching the flashes and screams of the paps as you pulled up. Eddie blew a cloud of smoke at you. "When we get outta here, you don't stop, you don't talk, you don't even fuckin' look at them, or this is ends here." Eddie threatened. "You just follow me. Don't try to be cute, or they'll get a picture of me leaving your ass at the doors. Make you the rejected girl for all these vultures to tear apart. Got it?"

You nodded obediently, heart hammering at the threat. Hotel security opened the doors to the car, helping each of the boys out, the cluster of girls that followed them. Nelson was out, screaming and threatening the paps, then berating the manager of the hotel at the door.

Eddie climbed past you first, not helping you out, but pausing so you could follow him, clambering with your head down, eyes trained on his heavy boots that pounded into the concrete with every step. The flashes were furious, blinding out of your peripheral. The hotel staff greeted you kindly, opening doors and ushering you towards the private elevator.

You were quiet, eyes still down casted. The elevator rose, dinging and climbing the floors until it reached the top. The boys scattered, grabbing their keys from Nelson with the playful threat to "behave".

Room 1029, the end of the hall, secluded from the rest. Eddie pushed the door open, watching you. You stood, waiting his command. He grinned, impressed. "Good," He grumbled, nodding towards the opened door. "Go in."

You padded in, looking around the large, extravagant room. Mini fridge stocked, fruit basket on the table, Eddie's things already inside, including a rather tempting black, leather case on the center of the made bed, constructing against the crips, white linens of the hotel sheets.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Eddie asked, arms crossed leaning against the counter of the small kitchen. His cigarette was dwindled, nearly gone. "Don't want to make you feel like you have to."

You nodded, shoulders shuddering gently. "Please, Master," You purred. "I want to please you."

Eddie grinned, stepping slow and calculated towards you. He cupped your face in his hands, and you could smell the nicotine on the tips of his fingers. "I give all my girls a safe word. In case you don't want to or it gets too much. You say it, we stop." You nodded obediently. "Bat." He said simply.

You fought the tinges in your expression that wanted to smile, pressing and rolling your lips. "Bat?" You repeated.

Eddie nodded firmly. "You say that, we stop, no questions asked, no judgements. Got it?"

You nodded, heat pooling deep in your belly. You hadn't expected it to be this intimate, personal. He really was a pro, more than a flashy, bad boy using this angle for his image.

"So tell me," Eddie's fingers ran down your cheeks, towards your lips. "What do you think about when you put this on? What do you think about me doing to you?" He whispered, thumb pulling your bottom lip, soft and plush.

You shivered. "I-I saw the pictures in the magazine." You admitted, feeling the pad of his thumb across your cheek bone. "The girl you were with coming out of the club. She-She..." You whimpered, his left hand creeping down your jaw, massaging it lightly.

"She what?" Eddie pushed, dark eyed and intense.

"She looked... wrecked." You shuddered at the admission, swallowing thickly when his fingers ghosted, feather light and teasing over your throat.

"And you want that?" Eddie pressed, lifting a brow. "You want me to do that to you, too?" You nodded furiously, his thumb circling your pulse point on your neck, feeling your rapid heart beat under his touch. "You want me to ruin you like that?"

You whimpered behind closed lips, nodding furiously, blushing under his gaze. You were still closed but you felt so exposed, so seen.

"Or do you want me to show you off after too?" Eddie pressed, lips curling into a snarl. "Want me to parade you around after, show everyone what I did to you so some other needy little thing will get off to those pictures too?"

"Please," You whined out, core throbbing.

"That what you want, huh? Want everyone to see?" Eddie teased you, mean and calculated, his grasp around your neck tightening just lightly, cutting off your air supply.

You gasped a little, but kept your hands by your side, your eyes still on him. Eddie squeezed tighter, snarling at you. "I asked you a question."

You wheezed, mouth opening to get air in. "Yes," You rasped. "Please, Master."

Eddie let go of your throat with a shove, stomping towards his bed. "Strip. Everything but that pretty little collar." He ordered, opening the fastens on the case.

Your hands trembled, excited and anxious, unzipping your skirt, shoving it until it was a puddle on the floor beneath you. You kicked off your heels, yanking down the straps of the harness and squeezing it over your frame, tights following. You kicked your discarded clothes into the corner of the room, eyes trained on Eddie, the satin, rolled bag on display in front of him.

Eddie's gaze lifted to you, shirt discard showing you his porcelain skin littered in tattoos, his scars that some had tried to cover. He lifted a ringed hand, motioning you forward with two fingers.

You took a step before he huffed. "Crawl." He barked.

You lowered down to your knees on shaky legs, hands and knees moving against the ivory floors towards the carpeted bedroom. You kneeled in front of Eddie, eyes up and awaiting his next instruction.

Eddie's hand cupped your jaw, rolling it so he could better see your face. "Such a pretty thing," He purred. You blushed furiously, biting back a smile. "Stand up, arms behind your back."

You stood slowly, barely steadied before Eddie clasped your folded hands, pushing you face first towards the bed. You barely registered the cool metal on your wrists before you heard the click, cuffs biting into your skin, closed tight and hard around you, binding you.

You lifted your head out of the pristine linens, the smell of bleach and laundry detergent filling your nose. Eddie's hand found your hair, yanking your hair tight by your scalp, tipping your head back to him.

"You gonna be a good little slut for me?" Eddie growled, his free hand rubbing roughly down your ass and thighs. "Gonna do what Master says?"

"Y-Yes, Master," You shuddered, clenching when his hand swiped through your slick folds.

Eddie hummed. "What's the safe word?" He challenged, fingers working on your clit.

You bit back a moan, squirming against the bed. "Bat." You answered, hips rocking towards his fingers.

Eddie grinned, letting go of your hair, pulling his other hand out of your aching pussy. "Good." He smirked, smacking your ass hard.

You gasped, shockwaves flooding into your aching core, leaving your sighing out contently, raising on your toes to arch your back further, silently asking for more.

Eddie scoffed, rummaging through the black container again. You weren't sure if you were allowed to look, opting to keep your eyes forward, leaning up just a bit to see into the mirror on the dresser. You could see Eddie, wild curls and bare chest, hunched over his menacing black box of what appeared to be toys.

You saw him move closer, feeling his presence behind you. "Here, I'll take care of your wandering eyes." Eddie growled, back skull patterned bandana in his hand. He spread it between his hands, stretching out the folded material and bringing it over your eyes, your vision going black. You recognized the material, usually tucked under his bangs as a make shift headband on stage, now tied around your head, leaving you reeling and tingling with anticipation.

Your vision was blacked completely, Eddie's hand on your back suddenly making you jump with anticipation. His touch was soft, light, teasing and tracing all the way down your spine.

"So," Eddie purred. "You're a professional star fucker, hm?"

You shivered under the touch, fists clenching behind your back. "Something like that." You sighed, breathy and airy.

Eddie's hand cracked down on your ass, leaving you yelping and lifting with the impact. Eddie hummed, fingers swiping between your legs. You gaped, shoving your face into the sheets to try and conceal your sounds.

"Seems like it." Eddie scoffed, pumping his fingers slow in and out of you, your slick coating his fingers easily, slipping further and further inside you.

You moaned, hips swirling in pleasure, grinding further and further onto his hand. His thumb circled your clit. "Any other rockstar fuck you like this?" Eddie asked lowly. "Or am I the first one?"

You gasped, the heat in your tummy was building quickly, much faster than you expected. Now with the blindfold and the restraints, you were sure you'd come soon.

"P-Please, Master," You whimpered, whining high pitched and nasally. "Oh, fuck, please may I cum? Please, 'm so close."

Eddie's fingers kept pumping at the same pace, thumb circling your clit without any signs of letting up. "Hm, let me think about it..." He sighed dramatically, mocking. You couldn't see his face but you could picture his salacious smirk, dark and unfair.

Your thighs clenched, waves of pleasure already beginning to flood your system, teetering you closer and closer. "Oh! Please, please, please, Master, please let me cum, please!" You begged, writing to escape his touch, grip unforgiving even as you closed around his hand.

"Hold it," Eddie hissed into your ear, hair tickling your neck. Your thighs trembled, clenching shut, body twitching with pleasure. "I said, hold it. You better not cum if you know what's good for you."

Your eyes pinched shut under the bandana blindfold, jaw clenching so hard you were sure your teeth would crack. He was making you feel so good, too good. You knew you wouldn't last.

"Ah-ah, fuck, please let me cum!" You squealed, back arching, a last resort to try and get away from his fingers that teased you, free yourself from the orgasm you were so close to having.

"I don't think you deserve it." Eddie grunted, his chest dropping on your back to keep you from moving. You could feel his hot skin on yours, smell the remnants of sweat mixed with spicy cologne. It only made you hotter, small whimpers leaving your lips, pathetic and begging.

"You think you deserve to cum? A little slut like you?" Eddie pressed, his teeth grazed the lobe of your ear, biting around your dangled earrings, pulling at the flesh so you cried out. It sent you over the edge, your body convulsed, gushing hard over his fingers.

You heaved, falling into the mattress, body quaking with the shockwaves of pleasure. Eddie's fingers didn't leave you, pumping hard and punishing into you, the vulgar squelch your pussy made around his fingers filling the room, mixing with your breathy cries and the buzz of the radiator.

Eddie tsked behind you, his fingers making you squirm, overstimulated from his touch. You shuddered when he did finally pull them from you. "Oh, now why'd you do that, hm?" Eddie cooed, mocking and mean.

You could hear him move behind you, clatters and rummaging through what you assumed was his box. Eddie's boots were muffled on the carpet, but still hard and menacing when they came towards you.

"I told you not to cum, and what did you do?" Eddie sighed. You whimpered, feeling his sigh of disappointment on your shoulder blades, goosebumps erupting on your skin.

Cold, leather rubbed across the globes of your ass, making you jump, gasping loudly enough for Eddie to hear. His mouth was next to your ear, ringed hand pressing on the small of your back. "I'm gonna make you regret that, honey." He purred.

Your only warning of what was to come was the soft taps on your upturned cheeks, before the leather paddle cracked down right in the center of your backside.

You cried out, back arching, bound hands clenching into white knuckled fists. Your senses barely had time to register, pain just setting in before another searing swat came fast and hard to your left cheek, then again to your right.

You bucked, hips shimmying to dodge each hit, but your pussy ached, filled again with that desperate, deep need and want you craved.

"Wanna be a bad girl?" Eddie grunted, another resounding smack! of the paddle colliding with your ass. "I'll show you how I treat bad girls."

You sobbed, tears heaving the itchy cotton of the bandana. Your arms wrested to get free from the handcuffs, to reach down and stop the assault on your behind, but were stopped by the metal digging into them.

"Yeah, you wanna act like such a bad girl, such a little whore." Eddie seethed, paddle swinging and striking your red, angry cheeks.

"You want to go tell everyone about how Eddie Munson fucked you? Make sure you tell him about how I fucking ruined you. You got that?" Eddie growled, spanking you hard, sending you flying further into the bed with a gasp. "Tell that to your friends, sell that story to the tabloids. Tell them all about how I handle bad girls."

You sobbed, abs clenching and pleasure rolling through your body again, the final hit close to your center, making your legs shake. Eddie scoffed, mocking and mean, but he set the paddle down, threw it on the floor with a loud thud.

"How you doin'?" Eddie asked lowly, hands smoothing, squeezing and kneading your hot flesh.

You shuddered, sniffling hard. "G-Good." You cried, thighs rubbing together.

"Good." Eddie repeated, you could practically hear his dimpled grin through the words. The kiss he gave to your right cheek was unexpected, wet and loud, making you jump slightly, staggering back into his touch.

Metal on metal scraping behind you, then your right hand was free, falling onto the clean linen beneath you. You rolled your wrist only for a second before Eddie rolled you, sore ass colliding with the cool sheets. You recoiled, hips lifting, only for his hand splayed on your tummy to push you back down.

"You took that beating well." Eddie purred, pulling your free hand in front of you. "Better than some of the girls at the Hellfire Club, and they're supposed to be professional. Maybe you should go work there."

You grinned, glad the bandana covered your blushing cheeks under the compliment, but you were sure he could see it on your exposed chest. "Thank you," You sighed.

"I'll call Marco, the manager. Put in a good word for ya." Eddie quipped, the handcuffs snapping back onto your wrists just as tight as before.

Eddie pulled up forward by the metal chain between the cuffs, your legs steady and unsure when you stood, legs shaky, following blinding behind him, his guiding hand on your cuffs. "After this, you'll have a hell of a resume." Eddie's voice was teetering on the edge of playful and something dark, salacious. "They'll be beggin' to have you in the dungeon."

The sound of the sliding door, squeaky and heavy through the hinges could be heard, the cold gust of the air on your chest, nipples pebbling hard.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Eddie asked, his hand gentle on your hip. You could hear the sound of the paparazzi, clambering and shouting beneath you, arguing with hotel security and each other. "Last chance. Call it and we go inside."

You shuddered, pulsing between your legs though your heart hammered in your chest. "It's alright." You said quietly.

Eddie adjusted the bandana, pulling it further to cover your eyes and some of your nose, hand cracking down on your ass. "Good girl." He growled, pulling your cuffs behind him.

"Hey!" Eddie yelled, a loud, piercing whistle following. You froze, body stilling and breath catching. You were doing this, you were actually doing this. "Up here, you bastards!" Eddie roared down to the paparazzi below. "Here's your money shot!" He cackled loud, electrified like he was on stage down at them.

You grunted softly, pulled over the cool concrete, then pressed forward onto the cold, wet steel, your hands leaning over the rail. It hit just below your ribs, sending you forward just slightly, Eddie's hand steadying you on your hip.

You could hear him shoving his boxers down to the middle of his thigh, condom wrapped crinkling before his erection was flush, rubbing against your ass through the latex. "Give 'em a show for me, alright, baby?" He purred in your ear, before you were bent over.

You could see the faint, blinding flashes through the material of the blindfold, the roars and clambering of the paparazzi beneath you as they screamed frantically, deafening. You gasped loudly when Eddie pushed in, hard and quick, filling you swiftly with no warning.

Your head tipped back, crying out when his hips were flush against yours, barely giving you anytime to adjust before he was fucking you hard. Unrelenting, fast thrusts that had you crying out, sobbing and moaning beneath the bandana, handcuffed hands balled over the rail.

Eddie's free hand went to your jaw, grabbing tightly as his other stayed on your hips, balls slapping hard against your abused ass. His face was next to yours, cheek to cheek. "Yeah, this what you want? This what you want, you sick fucks?" Eddie mocked them loudly. His tongue licked a long, wet stripe down the side of your face.

You cried out loudly, mouth stretching and contorting around his ringed grip, bottom lip tucking between your teeth dramatically. You didn't need to play it up this much, it really did feel that good, but Eddie told you to, so you did.

You clenched hard around him, squirming into his touch. "'M close," Eddie muttered in your ear, before his hand moved, tracing lightly over your collared neck, squeezing your throat lightly. You gasped, clenching hard around him. "Fuck, keep doing that, baby." Eddie growled, fingers pressing further into your neck.

The paparazzi never quieted down, shutter of the cameras and flashes never stopping, but they seemed to wash away, drowning out when you fell forward, hard metal rail cutting into your ribs. You laid limply, whimpering and crying as Eddie fucked you, hard and fast, his face still against yours and his hand still around your neck.

You heard him groan, low and guttural in your ear before he slowed, hips rocking to a slow stop, hand dropping from your neck. You fell limp against the rail, Eddie's hand pulling you back. Your legs were weak, knees falling and colliding onto the hard cement. Eddie laughed wildly back at the crowd, taunting them some more while you tried to catch your breath.

"Here," Eddie whispered, bent down with a hand on your shoulder. He helped you up, slow, before you felt the familiar ivory on the ground instead of the cement, hearing the closing of the sliding door.

"That was pretty sick, honey." Eddie laughed. Your blindfold was falling down your nose. "You can take that off. We're done now."

You pushed the soaked, black fabric over your eyes, letting it rest on your sticky forehead. Eddie stood by the balcony doors, cigarette back between his lips, dimpled grin on his face. "I gotta say, you impressed me." He shrugged. "Didn't think you'd really be down with it."

You let out a breathy laugh, smile lopsided. "What can I say? I told you I was game." You said sweetly, eyes glassy and dazed.

Eddie grinned, blowing the smoke out slowly through his nose. "There's a car for you 'round back, so the vultures don't see you alright? Unless you want them to, whatever you want." Eddie shrugged.

You sighed, legs shaky, and skin burning with every step. You reached for your corset, pulling it up your legs, hissing when it touched your sensitive flesh. "I'm serious about the Hellfire Club or even the White Lotus Lounge," Eddie said, arm propped in a lean by the doorway. "You'd be really good down there." He grinned, dark and suggestive.

"I might take you up on that." You smirked, zipping your skirt up. "Will you be my reference?"

Eddie snorted. "After that? Fuck yeah." He grinned. You reached for the bandana around your neck, pulling it off and reaching to give it back to him. Eddie shook his head, ashing his cigarette on the floor lazily. "Nah, you keep that. You earned it." He winked.

You blushed, rolling your eyes lightly. "Thanks for this, and the show tonight. It really was great." You padded to the door, heels and bandana in hand.

Eddie walked towards you. "Thanks, means a lot." He smiled. "This was fun too, by the way. Real fun."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah." Eddie smirked. "Don't be surprised when I sing about it on my next album."

You snorted lightly. "I'll be looking forward to it." You smiled, opening the hotel door. "See ya later, Eddie. Best of luck with everything."

"You too, sweet heart." Eddie winked, leaning out the doorway. He watched you pad towards the private elevator, legs still a little wobbly. "You make sure you talk nice about me to those tabloids alright?"

You laughed, pressing the elevator button. "I would never." You bantered. "I never kiss and tell, baby." You purred playfully, winking back at him. The elevator dinged, and you stepped on. "Thanks for a good time, Eddie. Have a good one." You called through the closing doors. Eddie grinned wide, inhaling the cigarette deeply before shutting his door.

The next day, the tabloids were booming, buzzing with the pictures of the bad boy rockstar and his mystery woman, fucking wildly on the hotel balcony. The buzz from the press was enough to have the media talking about Corroded Coffin for months, selling out most of their shows, and scoring them more covers of gossip columns than they knew what to do with.

It was good for you, too. You got to brag to your friends that you were Eddie Munson's infamous 'Balcony Babe' (the name was questionable, but the song made the top 100, appearing on the album like Eddie told you). A history making, raunchy hookup the world would never forget.

[hlxtn]

[pinksiames]

Me and @clevenhq are constantly cooking it’s crazy

Gale is a 24 year old groupie thats obsessed and follows the band John plays guitar in, knows all the songs by heart, has as much he could humanly buy, he is quite literally John’s biggest fan!

John is a 28 year old guitarist who plays in the band him and his best friend curt put together in high school, having sky rocketed and topped the charts within a few years of being in the industry. The sudden fame and money has definitely turned the man into a bit of a narcissist, only really thinking of himself until he keeps seeing the same face in the crowd.

The same pretty face with the dark hair that seems to be following them, given John and only John the biggest heart eyes he’s ever seen and he is hooked. He ends up searching through show pictures of the crowd just to find one with a decent frame of the mystery boy, running it through google just to try and find out any information about him.

A few more shows go by, they’ve developed some kind of non verbal communication, giving each other little waves and smiles, maintaining eye contact while John does the hornest guitar solo known to man, practically fucking the instrument while looking at Gale. They end up hooking up a few times till the hooks of jealously get John and he can’t stand Gale being with anyone else but him, to the point he has Gale become a roadie so he can keep his eye on him.

Basically rockstar John and groupie Gale au 😋

Not even gonna lie I was listening to rockstar by nickelback when we were talking

[ddlcbrainrot]

guess who has been procrastinating studying for their exams by drawing 😁😁😁👍👍👍

[n33dlew0rk]

Inspired by the song below 🌸

Steve and Robin deciding they need to have some semblance of a normal college student life instead of spending every night watching movies together eating popcorn on their couch. So they resolve to go out on a Friday and end up in a club not knowing there would be live music. They queue outside and raise a skeptical eyebrow when paying what looks like a very overpriced ticket, but they never go out so they think it's normal even if unfair and then find themselves front row for this up and coming band debuting their first full album live.

Enter this very technical very only instrumental, very genre-bending band with hot-as-hell guitarist Eddie "nimblefingers" Munson shredding like there's no tomorrow. But wait they have a feat. with another young alt/hyperpop artist called Chrissy who incidentally is also Eddies's bff, incredibly cute and totally Robin's type.

Steve will have his eyes glued to Eddie's hands for the entire show and Robin will nearly faint as soon as Chrissy says that breathy "fuck" at the end of the first verse.

Steve and Robin will later agree that they both never felt less straight than that night, that being a groupie is not that bad if you're older than 21 and consent, end up top listeners to both artists at the end of the year with jointed fan accounts on all social platforms and will never miss another gig manifesting vip passes everytime the band does a giveaway on IG.

[wreckedandpolemic]

😣😣Cant stop thinking about Matty fucking girlie whilst in that shirt and tie combo he always wears at shows. Like, balls deep in her saying the most insane things, like praising her and teasing her as he fucks her deep, pressing on her lower abdomen and pointing out how deep his dick is and how he can practically see it. And he’s all cocky about it, laughing at every noise she makes, getting her all shy and blushing. All whilst she’s gripping at his shirt covered shoulders, the tie loose around his neck. And like his curls sticking to his forehead- ugh.

I need him in ways which concern my feminist morals.

oh something is PURRING… this is soo groupie au when you’re basically his little sex toy waiting in the tour bus. he knows you’re naked and wet and ready for him the second he comes off stage, so he doesn’t even strip, just pulls his cock out and fucks into you so hard you’re practically choking on it. jesus, y’so fuckin’ full of me, he mutters, pressing down on your stomach to feel how deep he is. i’m in your fucking guts, baby. can you feel that?

he knows the answer, your manicured nails gripping his shoulders. that’s it, good girl. fucked you too dumb to talk, huh? s’okay, baby, i know. just lay back and let me have what i need, okay? all you can do is whine, let him lick into your mouth and swallow every noise you make. he makes you pathetic, and you fucking love it.

[pizzacastella]

drummer porter with a loose tank top on, had his hair in a pony tail but he's been playing for a while and has been headbanging a lot so it loosened and it's just a sexy mess

[llinstarr]

Forced to be a teenage girl in 2024, born to be marauder’s groupie in the 80’s.

[spicyraeman]

Hello!

How do you think your Lae'zel would respond to the inevitable rabid groupies they would attract by being the ridiculously hot drummer?

Oh boy, she would react exactly like a cat, one moment she's lavishing in all the attention and love cuz why wouldn't she? Her skill, her performance, her stage presence? Impeccable. More than worthy of all the praise.

Then the next moment she's decidedly had enough. Its too much and she may be worth the attention but they certainly aren't, so why should she have to give them the time of day? Most interactions end with a strong "fuck off" and her stalking off somewhere else

Yknow, average Lae'zel Things(tm)