Tumgik
#90's girl band
possible-streetwear · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media
725 notes · View notes
netflixnormalthings · 9 months
Text
robin and nancy can't die they need to experience the 90's. just like in general
348 notes · View notes
thataquariusbitch · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Young Roger Taylor in the 60's
He's so cute 🥺🥺🥹
34 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
The Spice Girls
90 notes · View notes
nicolerichiesdiary · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
8 notes · View notes
hcluv · 11 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
this is so boyfriend coded and for WHAT
3 notes · View notes
theshad0wsmadamme · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
6 notes · View notes
fatgoth7 · 2 years
Text
No dude if you live anywhere NYC, like grunge and want to be in a band HMU for ffs i need to start a band. We need to teach these mfs how to live.
Tumblr media
5 notes · View notes
bigforeheadbaddie · 24 days
Text
youtube
TRAGIC KINGDOM TOUR IN HD THIS IS NOT A DRILL
1 note · View note
pat2dee · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Another nostalgic gig, this time at home in Guernsey, with the “It Girl” herself Louise Wener with Sleeper acoustic.
1 note · View note
Text
Tumblr media
Adelaide and Gerry in a late 1980's/early 1990's style.
1 note · View note
possible-streetwear · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media
83 notes · View notes
rip-quizilla · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Eat Me
Pairing: Older!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Popstar!Reader
Summary: (TLDR: you perform with Corroded Coffin, act like a brat the whole time, and Eddie makes you pay for it.) Two years after your hiatus from the music industry, you're back and all grown up now. After collaborating with early 2000's metal sensation Corroded Coffin for several songs off your new album, you debut the new tracks live in a surprise performance with the band during their tour- and the tension between you and frontman Eddie Munson is so thick, you're barely able to keep your pants on throughout the set. (Songs referenced are by Demi Lovato from her album HOLY FVCK, which inspired this fic. I highly suggest listening to the songs "Eat Me" and "Freak" while they're performed in the story for the complete experience!)
Word Count: 14K
Tags: 🔥SMUT, age gap (reader is 27, Eddie is 47), Reader is a brat (Eddie can handle it), fingering, squirting, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap up!!), light degradation, reader has blue hair, reader is a grown-up child star, for the purposes of this fic Corroded Coffin started in the 90s instead of 80s for timeline reasons
🖤🖤🖤
You had no fucking clue what you were doing. 
It had been two years since you’d put out music. Two. Years. That’s enough time for a person’s relevance to crawl into a hole and die, which is something you had been strongly considering doing for the duration of those two years. 
It was a tale as old as time- child star grows up. Child star is not a child anymore, but the world only wants the star to be a child, so if the star wants to keep being a star, they do not. grow. up. 
But you grew up, and guess what happened? 
The world hated you for it. 
So you stopped trying to be a star. You’d dropped off the face of the earth and deleted every social media app from your phone. You’d bought a house in the mountains, and thanks to modern technologies like Amazon and DoorDash, you basically never had to leave. It was a little scary how easily you had become a hermit living in a cabin in the woods. Your life quickly became a never ending cycle of reading, binge-watching tv, and dying/cutting your hair whenever the mood struck (The latest spontaneous color change had left you with a surprisingly pretty shade of faded blue).
It was easy, running away… until it caught up with you.
After all, at your core you had always been a performer. From your first audition at five years old to your big break at twelve, to the first album you’d put out on your television network’s record label- you had always been a person who had something to say and craved an audience to hear it. When your audience had turned on you, it had jolted your rhythm enough that you forgot the words to a song you’d been singing as long as you could remember. 
It had taken you a couple years, but eventually you figured out that when you play the same song on repeat for long enough, it gets old. 
So you wrote a new song. 
To be more precise, you wrote a whole album. Literally. 
Some of the songs were composed, some still needed a tune, but the message of the album was clear: I’m not that little girl on your TV screen anymore. You don’t have to like it, but you sure as hell can’t change it. 
The minute you’d figured that out, you’d called your team. Once they understood the direction your career was headed, they helped get everything in order for your re-entry into the fray that had driven you out in the first place. 
There was only one part of the album that made you nervous. 
I know two years doesn’t seem like that long, your agent had said, but the public eye doesn’t have a very impressive attention span. You only have half of the album composed, right? This is the perfect opportunity to make the other half of the songs collaborations with artists that are in the public eye! 
The idea made sense. Their popularity helps you, and if the songs go over well, then it helps the other artists too. The only issue was that these songs were way more vulnerable than what you used to write… hell, half the songs you’d recorded before your hiatus were written by whatever run of the mill joe schmo had gotten the kid-friendly execs’ stamp of approval. Even when you’d split from the network after turning twenty-three, you’d kept your songs strictly PG-rated since you knew the majority of your audience were minors. These new songs, though… 
You weren’t an idiot. The themes of these songs were not subtle. Anyone who listened to these new songs was going to see a side of you that wasn’t all that pretty. Were you ready for that? Were you ready to bare that darkness to not only the world, but to other artists who meant to help you make music out of it?
Your anxiety about the album had gotten even worse when your agent had given you the list of potential collaborators.
 One song that you were particularly proud of called “Eat Me” had some very metal undertones to it, so you’d told your agent that you’d like to collaborate with a metal band or artist to compose the music that would match the lyrics. Almost immediately, your agent had suggested a collaboration with Corroded Coffin.
The band had been HUGE when you were a kid, topping charts throughout your childhood and making a name for themselves as one of the most culturally relevant turn-of-the-century metal bands. Even now, they were a household name. Your older brother had been a huge fan, so you’d actually listened to their music quite a lot growing up. They weren’t some random collaboration- if Corroded Coffin read your lyrics (which were basically your soul laid out on display) and thought they were shit? It might just send you spiraling right back to your cabin in the mountains. 
You had been equal parts thrilled and terrified when your agent told you they’d agreed to collaborate on the song.
Currently, you were sitting in your home-away-from-home, a cozy apartment that you rented on a month-to-month basis whenever you needed to be in New York, which just so happened to be where Eddie Munson, lead singer/guitarist of Corroded Coffin had asked to meet with you. It was your album, so you had invited him to come to your place and discuss his ideas for the song. You shifted nervously on your couch and glanced at the time on your phone. He was ten minutes late- that shouldn’t bother you, a lot of musicians had a habit of running late. Just because you didn’t subscribe to that stereotype didn’t mean you had to judge him for doing the opposite. 
When you finally heard the buzz of your doorbell, you practically hopped off the couch. You peeped through the little door viewer to catch a glimpse before you had to look one of your childhood heroes in the eye. You… you hadn’t been adequately prepared to see this. 
Eddie Munson had been attractive in his hay day- you could admit that. You’d seen the pictures of him on their album covers, the press photos, the magazines… he had always been cute in a scruffy sort of way. You hadn’t bothered Googling what he looked like now, which you were currently regretting since you had not been adequately prepared for the father of all DILFs to be standing on your doorstep. 
After doing some quick math, you came to the conclusion that Eddie Munson must be in his mid to late forties at this point. His hair was still long and curly and thick as hell, but you noticed other details that you distinctly remembered were not present on the album covers you remember from your brother’s CD collection- dark, whiskery shadow along his cheeks and jawline. Tattoos creeping up from the collar of the crew neck shirt he wore, as well as every inch of his arms. A nose ring. Smile lines. Soft creases forming between thick brown eyebrows. 
Eyebrows drawing together in confusion because you weren’t opening the door. 
Shit. You inhaled sharply and hastily made to open the door. Breathe, you instructed yourself, taking a moment to blow out a semi-relaxing breath before turning the doorknob and plastering on your best entertainment industry smile.
“Hi!” you said, a little too peppy- you knew you sounded too peppy because the rockstar in front of you actually flinched when your high-pitched sorority girl voice slapped him in the face. “Sorry, I think I’m a little caffeine-riddled, I just finished my third cup of coffee.” You said apologetically, swinging the door open wider for him to step through the threshold into your apartment. 
“Too many frappuccinos there, huh popstar?” His voice… if it hadn’t been so condescending, you might have melted on the spot. Your pride, however, had to argue with your clenching thighs. 
“Uhm, no-” you laughed, keeping your voice airy as you shut the door and leaned back on it to ensure it was closed. “-just cold brew, rockstar.” You couldn’t help but add that quip at the end, seeing how he had just called you popstar like it was the same as calling someone a pussy or a wimp. What was his deal?
He looked at you with a raised eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest, and then turned back as if you hadn’t said anything at all. He simply sauntered through the hallway to your living room, where you had laid all the necessary materials for your composing process across the coffee table- but he wasn’t looking at that. He seemed to be inspecting your walls, the decor, the old pictures that sat in frames on your floating shelves, the records you had displayed above your turntable. His eyes surveyed everything like he was a judge at a fucking science fair, and your heart was starting to race as you started to irrationally wonder if you fell short of his expectations or something.
“Ahem,” you cleared your throat to get his attention. 
He turned to face you, irritation flashing across his expression like a cloud blowing past the sun. You took a breath. Calm down, you chided yourself mentally, he’s probably just a prick, don’t take it personally. Be professional. 
“Can I get you something to drink?” You chirped politely, to which he smirked and shook his head.
“Don’t trouble yourself, sweetheart.” 
You bristled; sweetheart? Who did he think he was, Don Draper? Was this the 1950’s? Were you his fucking secretary? Your blood pressure rose by the second. 
“Hm.” you respond, chewing your lip to keep a snarky response to yourself. “Well, we can go ahead and get started if you want.” You gestured to the pages strewn across the coffee table. Notebook pages with your lyrics written out in black pen, empty pages of sheet music that you planned to fill out with a melody to coincide with your words as the morning went on. Your acoustic guitar sat securely in its stand beside the couch, eagerly awaiting your hands to make the message in your music come alive.
Munson sunk into the cushions of your leather couch, manspreading enough to make you feel like a guest in your own apartment. His forearms rested on the thighs of his ripped charcoal jeans as he surveyed the pages before him. He grabbed the notebook page full of lyrics first, chuckling when he saw the title. 
“Eat Me, huh?” he raised an eyebrow at you, and the way he was holding the page between the two of you left only the top half of his face visible from where you sat. You noted that Eddie Munson had extremely expressive eyes. “That’s a pretty evocative title for such a squeaky-clean ‘lil diva.”
Your brow furrowed. “That’s kind of the point.” Using your pointer finger to pull the page down, the bottom half of the rockstar’s face coming into view and spiking your blood pressure again when you saw that fucking smirk still on his face. 
That’s it. This guy is an ass.
“Maybe my agent didn’t accurately portray my vision for this album,” you said, struggling to grit out the words without coming across angry. “If that’s the case, I’m very sorry we got our wires crossed.” 
Ready to listen, Munson leaned back into your couch and crossed one booted foot over his knee, an arm thrown across the top of your couch cushions. The picture of nonchalance. 
Cocky bastard. 
“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I haven’t put any music out in over two years.” you began. “This isn’t just a new album for me- it's more like a debut album for the new direction I want to take my career in. Up until now, I’ve been portraying a very different side of myself that…if I’m being honest, it wasn’t really me. It was childish and immature and I…” 
You huffed out a heavy, frustrated sigh. “-I can’t do it anymore, I can’t keep being a kid, I’m twenty-fucking-seven years old, for god’s sake.” the rockstar’s eyebrows jumped up at hearing your expletive, obviously amused.
What the fuck? Here you were, being vulnerable with a complete stranger, and he thought it was amusing? You half expected him to laugh, but you brushed past it and decided to ignore this asshole being even more of an asshole. 
“What I’m trying to say is this is a very personal album for me. It’s very different from what I’ve been putting out, and that is very much the point. Does that make sense?” 
You watched as he slowly nodded his head, mulling over your words. “So…it’s like a coming of age thing?” he ventured, “Like, ‘little girl’s all grown up and sexy now’ all that?” his mouth turned up at one corner. “How very Miley Cyrus of you, sweetheart.”
You scoffed, physically recoiling a bit. “Are you being serious right now?” you balked. 
He shrugged. 
Oh, you fumed, that is it. Fuck this guy.
You stood from the couch, finally snapping after holding yourself back from giving this asshat a piece of your mind. “What is your problem?” Munson’s smirk faded a bit, but his smug air remained intact as he stared up at you. 
“Look sweetheart-”
“No.” you cut him off, stopping him with a hand in the air. “Stop calling me sweetheart like you know me or like that isn’t a condescending fucking way to speak to someone. You have done nothing but talk down to me since you walked through that door, so no, you do not get to talk to me like that, I don’t care how famous you are.”
There wasn’t a trace of a smile on his face now, and you took pride in that. Maybe there was a conscience in there somewhere that was telling him I told you so right now.
You took the page from his hands and held it up for emphasis. “If you had just read my fucking song before making assumptions, then maybe you would have understood that this song is actually a social commentary on people like you who assume the direct trajectory of a child star’s career is to go from cute and childish to sexy ‘girls gone wild’ or whatever the fuck.” you spat, practically shaking the paper in your hand. “I’m allowed to grow into whoever I damn well please, and that’s exactly what this song is about. If I want to write a song about sex- and I’ve written a few, they’re on the fucking album- I’ll write them because that’s what I want to write! I’m not doing it for shock value or because I like attention; hell, I’ve been a literal hermit in the woods for two years, I don’t give a fuck about attention!”
You finally paused to breathe, and you knew your eyes must look absolutely insane because the man before you genuinely looked terrified. 
Steeling yourself, you inhaled and exhaled slowly, attempting to push down some of that hysteria. “Sorry.” you bit, “Didn’t mean to unload all that on you. It’s just… this song is a part of me, and you just belittled it without even reading past the title.” You looked him directly in those big brown eyes and thought- hoped- for a second that you saw understanding in his gaze. “That was shitty. I’m not letting other people make me feel like shit anymore.” 
When you were finished, silence took over. It settled over the room like a reprieve from a short but heavy rainfall before the sun showed itself again. Suddenly, Eddie Munson stood from your couch and marched to your door, letting himself out with a sharp click of your doorknob latching closed. 
Okay. That went well. The lead singer of one of the most famous metal bands just came to your apartment, got yelled at, and ran away. You were just starting to ponder how you would explain this one to your publicist before you heard a knock at your door. Tentatively, you opened it- you didn’t need to look through the peephole to know who it was. 
Eddie Munson stood at your door wearing an expression that you hadn’t seen yet today- he looked open, compassionate, and sorry. One hand in his pocket with the other outstretched, tattoos winding up the expanse of skin, rings glinting light from the sconces on either side of your door. He was offering his hand. 
Smiling slightly, you accepted his gesture. You grasped his ink-scarred hand, feeling the cold metal of his rings press against your skin as you shook it. “It’s lovely to meet you-” he said your name softly, and you realized that when he had entered your apartment earlier, you hadn’t even exchanged pleasantries. Hadn’t introduced yourselves, almost as if fame got rid of the need for normal human introductions. Now, here he was, remedying that.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Munson,” you said, voice less chipper than it had been when the two of you originally stood in these same spots. “I’m a huge fan.” 
He winced at ‘Mr.’, clapping his other hand over yours tightly. “Please, for the love of god, don’t call me Mr. Munson.” his big brown eyes pleaded with you. “Call me Eddie.”
Your smile widened as you nodded. “Eddie.” you repeated. “Is this you telling me we’re starting over?” 
He let go of your hand, and you felt a sudden chill as the warmth of his skin left yours. “If that’s alright with you?” he replied softly, turning up the end of his sentence like a question. 
Instead of saying yes, you simply stepped back to make room for him in your hallway. With a pleasant grin on your lips, you gestured for him to step inside. “Let’s get started, then.”
After sitting down on the couch once more, Eddie took the sheet of notebook paper on which you’d scrawled a part of your soul written in verse and began to read intently. Leaving him to digest the song completely (also because you felt awkward sitting there in silence as he read your work) you left to grab two water bottles from the kitchen. When you returned, he had already grabbed a fresh sheet of notebook paper and begun jotting down notes. 
You placed the bottles on coasters, bracing yourself for the criticism that you knew was coming-
“You were right.”
Huh? 
You craned your neck to see what he had written on the notebook paper. “About what?”
With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Eddie yanked the paper out of your line of sight. “About this song, it’s completely different from what I’d assumed you would write. Actually,” he grinned. “-it’s kinda fucking metal.”
You smiled, once again reaching for the page. “Then let me see what you wrote-”
“I’m not finished yet, keep your panties on.”
The two of you worked for hours that afternoon, Eddie suggesting lines and chords as you wrote corresponding notes and chords on your sheet music. It didn’t take long for you to grab the acoustic guitar and begin strumming out portions of the song until it was finished.
Both of you agreed it was something to be proud of.
“Hey, uh,” Eddie stuttered before exiting your apartment that evening, when you were both happy with the work you’d done for the day. “I hope you know how sorry I am for being such an ass when I got here earlier-”
You shrugged, any traces of anger melted away at this point. “Eh.” you smirked. “You made up for it. That song might be my favorite on the album now, honestly, I meant it when I said I was a fan of yours- wouldn’t have trusted it with anyone else.”
He smiled at you warmly. “I’m honored to have such a talented fan.” The door was open, but he wasn’t leaving yet. Instead, Eddie stood with his tattooed arms crossed over his chest leaning his weight to one shoulder against the doorway. “I mean it though, you’re a talented songwriter. If you want to collaborate on any other songs, just say the word and I’m back here.”
You quirked an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”
He nodded, “Dead serious.”
Smiling excitedly, you ran to your notebook, flipping through the pages until you found what you were looking for. You looked up at Eddie, a knowing grin on your lips. “Remember those songs about sex I mentioned?”
***
The original plan for your album had been to collaborate with multiple artists for about fifty percent of your album, while the other fifty percent would only feature you. What ended up happening was slightly different.
The more songs Eddie saw, the more passionate he became about the message you were working to convey through your lyrics. He ended up reworking every single song with you in a completely collaborative process, where he never overstepped, never tried to take over- simply understood what you were trying to say and added the extra ‘oomph’ each song had been needing to truly become what you had envisioned. 
“I feel like I really can’t just call this my album now, Eddie, you’ve contributed way more to this to just be credited as a featured artist-”
You’d first voiced concerns about how to credit Eddie in the album a few days into your songwriting spree. It became an easy routine, Eddie would come over first thing in the morning, and the two of you would sit in your living room working through your songs and ordering takeout until the sun set. 
“Well it’s not a collaboration album with Corroded Coffin,” Eddie had replied, sticking a bite of noodles into his mouth. The two of you had been seated at your kitchen table, white boxes of Chinese food, napkins, and torn chopstick wrappers decorating the space between you. “Those fuckers haven’t even met you, they don’t get credit for anything they ain’t playing on.” 
“But I’m talking about you.” you pushed, “If we keep going the way we’ve been, you’re going to be a vital part of the composition for every track on this album! I’m not going to let you avoid credit for that.” you gazed at him, unable to hide the admiration you’d begun to feel for the artist at your table. “Let me list you as a composer for every track you help me with. We already know you and your band will be featured on Eat Me and Freak, so obviously you’ll be credited for those…” 
As you continued to ramble on about how Eddie would be credited for each and every song lyric he suggested, he got distracted looking at the way your hair glinted slightly different shades of blue in the sunlight that filtered in through your balcony window. His eyes followed the light along your skin, taking in the way it glistened off the dewey shine on your cheekbone, how it shone directly into the corner of your eye so that colors he had never noticed were brought to the surface of your irises…
This wasn’t the first time that Eddie had gotten distracted watching you rant about something you were passionate about. He knew he was supposed to be listening, that it was very important that he knew what your songs were about, that he understood the details of your plans for the album so that you wouldn’t have to repeat yourself later- but dammit, you were just so pretty. Really fucking pretty, it was hard for him not to get distracted. Initially, this whole collaboration had just been something that Eddie’s publicist had suggested for getting the newer generation listening to Corroded Coffin in time for their new album to drop at the end of the summerl, so when Eddie had first waltzed into your apartment he’d been expecting a kid; an innocent, teeny-bopper sort of persona. He hadn’t expected a loud, firecracker of a woman with hair the color of his old denim jacket. 
Eddie wasn’t an idiot. He was well aware that he was old enough to be your father. You were what- twenty-seven? Twenty-eight? Definitely under thirty. And here he was, pushing forty-seven with a salt and pepper shadow on his jawline. The hair on his head hadn’t started graying yet (he dreaded the day that he would have to use *gulp* hair dye) but he knew it was only a matter of time. For him to be ogling you like this? It would probably make you uncomfortable if you knew how often his eyes forgot to look away when you left the room. What was that old saying? Hate to see you go, love to watch you leave-
“Eddie?” 
Shit. He’d missed an entire conversation, hadn’t he?
He gave you his best apologetic smile, which didn’t work at all. You sighed, hanging your head low exasperatedly. “You didn’t hear a word of that did you?”
“Not a word, zoned out.” 
You threw a fortune cookie at him.
***
You and Eddie didn’t see each other for a while after recording the album. Eddie was there with the rest of Corroded Coffin to record the two tracks that they were featured in for the album, but after that plus a few guitar parts Eddie had been kind enough to record for some other songs, the two of you hadn’t had a reason to see each other. 
That was why you were so nervous for tonight. 
After working all summer and the better part of the fall, the album was finally finished. Copies of CDs and special edition vinyl were already being shipped out to music stores across the country and set to hit shelves in a week, so tonight was the kickoff event for your publicity tour: you would be joining Corroded Coffin tonight onstage for a surprise performance of Eat Me and  Freak. Tonight was October 31st, and premiering those songs on Halloween with the metal king that helped you make them the masterpieces they were? This was just one of those moments when the stars aligned poetically.
You looked yourself in the mirror, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves before heading to sound check. It had been a couple of months since you’d seen Eddie, but that wouldn’t matter, right? You’d spent a whole week workshopping incredibly personal- in some cases, intimately personal- songs with the guy, so singing onstage with him shouldn’t be a big deal. You were a professional, so it didn’t matter that you hadn’t performed in over two years, you could do this. Never mind the fact that this was the first performance of the rest of your career; never mind that sometimes the way Eddie looked at you make you feel like your knees were about to buckle; never mind that Eddie Munson, rock god and sex symbol of the metal world, was going to be within touching distance the moment you set foot on that stage…
A knock at the door of your tiny dressing room startled you, along with a voice letting you know that sound check was about to begin. Decisively, you grabbed your water bottle and headed to the stage before you could psych yourself out any more. 
When you got to the stage, Eddie was the first person you laid eyes on. He smiled at you, dark curls flying around his face and forming a sinful-looking halo around his face as he gave you a friendly nod- god, he was gorgeous. Waving back at him, you returned the nod and grinned. You wouldn’t be going on until the end of their set, so you situated yourself on an empty stool backstage with a view of the band. 
Their practice was fascinating to watch, how all four of the band members were so obviously masters of their craft, each ear trained to notice any imperfection in the way their instruments sounded through the stereos. Every once in a while, Eddie would look your way out the corner of his eye, just to check if you were still watching; you always were. Whenever he saw you looking directly at him, never glancing down at your phone or at the other band members (besides the odd look thrown in Gareth Emerson’s direction; the way his curls bounced was honestly hypnotic), he’d hold your eye contact, smirk into the microphone, and continue to belt out the lyrics to his songs with a smidge more cockiness than he had been prior. 
When the time finally came for you to join them, you took a deep breath and strutted to where Eddie stood in the center of the stage. No one had handed you a mic, so you weren’t sure where you were supposed to stand until Eddie moved aside to make room for you at his mic stand. 
You looked questioningly at Eddie. “You don’t need your mic?”
He chuckled, placing a hand on the small of your back as he put his lips to your ear. You figured he was just trying to avoid the mic picking up his voice, but the hand on your back… that was new. Was this a move? Was Eddie Munson making a move? On you?
Oh. 
That’s a fun development. 
“This one’s all you, darlin’.” Eddie said, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I’ll stay out of your way. Also-” He pulled away enough to look you in the eyes, and your lips must have been a little too close to the mic because it picked up your fucking gasp. You jerked your head away from the mic, cursing yourself for being so nervous. 
Eddie definitely noticed, but all he did was chuckle, still staring at you with giant doe eyes framed by smile lines and bushy brown eyebrows. “-it’s good to see you, popstar.” There was no condescension in his tone this time; all you could find in his gaze was kind, genuine joy that you were here, and you couldn’t help but smile back. 
Confidently, you gripped the mic with both hands, smirking at Eddie through your side eye. You didn’t bother leaning away from the mic when you replied, sprinkling sultry into your voice. If Eddie Munson was trying to drop a hint, you wanted him to know you were receiving it.
“It’s good to see you too, rockstar.”
***
Mic check went flawlessly, which meant it was time for you and the band to eat in the green room while fans began lining up outside the venue, waiting for the doors to open. 
You had a couple drinks with the band while biding your time before you had to get dressed for the show. Much to your delight, Eddie never left your side the whole time. You had been close to him in your living room day after day when you’d worked on your songs, but this was different; you kept noticing little glances and touches that spoke louder than words- how his hands lingered longer than expected, never missing a chance to touch your arm or place a hand on your back to guide you as you walked. How his eyes were most focused whenever he was looking at you, and he never seemed to give you passing glances- every look he gave you was intense and purposeful, it made you shiver in a very good way. When he and the band left to get ready for showtime, he took a moment to check on how you were before leaving to go to his dressing room. 
“You nervous?” he asked. There wasn’t any judgment there, just concern for you. 
“Yes,” you admitted, “But I think I’ve got it.”
Eddie smiled widely, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and squeezing you tightly. “Oh I know you’ve got it, angel.”
You caught his wrist, holding it to your shoulder before he could retract it. Turning to him, you batted your eyes a bit before raising an eyebrow. “Angel, huh?”
Eddie inclined his head, eyes narrowing flirtatiously. “What, should I switch back to sweetheart?”
You smirked. “Only if you wanna make me mad.”
It took everything in you not to shrink back from him as he leaned forward, practically glowering over you. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but must have decided against it. You saw his tongue poke into the inside of his cheek as he nodded to himself, eyes narrowing further as if he were having a whole conversation within his head that you weren’t privy to. Finally, he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze and you let him go, staring at him with every ounce of confidence you could muster. 
“...I’ll remember that, popstar.” he said, voice low and gravelly and sure to throw you into a coma if he said the right words with that voice at the right time. You didn’t let him see how much he was affecting you, though- save for a little grin that you couldn’t hide as he smirked at you and walked away.
When he exited the green room- and you were sure you were alone- you finally let out a breath that you’d been holding for what seemed like entire minutes. You grabbed your drink, chugging down the rest of your liquid courage in the hopes that it might also cool you down a bit. 
***
The cheers from the crowd were deafening, and the gravity of what was about to happen was starting to get to you. 
Corroded Coffin was about to start the song that would be your cue to join them. You stood in the wings like you had during sound check, this time fussing over your outfit to ensure every piece was in place. The fact that it was Halloween combined with the tone of your new album had influenced your wardrobe choice for the evening- ripped black jeans that were more rip than jean, a strappy black bustier top with a plethora of silver buckles that decorating the surface of your bodice where the sides attached at your sternum, fishnet fingerless gloves, and your favorite part of the outfit: the biggest platform boots you’d ever owned. You remembered seeing them and falling in love immediately with the straps that decorated the entirety of the shoe, as well as the silver buckles on each strap that matched your top like a dream. Paired with your blue hair, you looked strikingly goth and nearly unrecognizable from the girl your fans remembered. 
When Eddie announced you onstage, you had to take a deep breath before joining him out there. Slow inhale, slow exhale… and then you were overtaken with hot stage lights.
Out on the stage, you could really take in the size of this crowd- it was far larger than what you were used to, and when they realized who you were, they went wild. You couldn’t help but be intimidated until you felt Eddie’s hand gently grounding you as it ghosted the skin on your back.
His lips tickled your ear as he leaned in and whispered in your ear out of range from the mic, “Knock ‘em dead, sweetheart.” 
You felt a flare of indignation intertwined with delight, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little evilly into the mic at this little shit of a rockstar.
 He did that on purpose. 
You looked at him with the biggest smirk on your face, and it matched the smug, sultry grin on his. Silently, he nodded at the audience as if to say ‘Well? They’re waiting.’
You looked over your shoulder at Jeff on the bass, nodded, and right on cue as Jeff began the first note of the song, the entire stage was flooded with scarlet light. 
***
Eddie could tell you were nervous. Flirting with you probably wasn’t helping, and for all he knew, he might even be making you uncomfortable. 
However…
Over the years, Eddie’s gotten more perceptive when it came to the subtleties of body language. He didn’t miss the fact that you’d been leaning into every touch he ghosted over your skin, no matter how overt or fleeting those touches might have been. He’d seen the change in your eye contact when it lingered a little longer than necessary- that shift from attentive to intrigued, even a little wanting at times. 
The only question was what you wanted, and Eddie was really hoping it was him.
As he watched you take his place at the mic, standing monochrome in scarlet light, he bit his lip as he tried to hold back the salacious grin that slid across his lips; he was unsuccessful. 
Eddie hit his guitar part easily as you purred the lyrics that the two of you had slaved over into your microphone. 
Be more predictable
Be less political
Not too original
Keep to tradition, but stay individual
Thrusting ever so slightly with his warlock, Eddie channeled the rage and rebellion of your lyrics into every word, smirking with the next few lines- they had been one of the first additions to the song that he’d made, and you more than did them justice. 
Dirty but washable
Winning but stoppable
All that I’m hearing is
You wanna make the impossible possible
Even though you’d been nervous earlier, it looked like you’d been able to shake it all off. Confidence was rolling off you like waves, strength in your comfort onstage practically seeping out of your pores. Eddie felt proud, yes, but mostly? He was turned the fuck on by it. His eyes never left you as you carefully removed the mic from its stand and leisurely strode to the edge of the stage as you sang the next lines, punctuating the last with a little shake of your head and a comically disgusted wrinkle of your nose.
Is this what you’d all prefer?
Would you like me better if I was still her?
Did she make your mouths water?
Ugh.
Just like you’d practiced, flashing white lights littered the stage right on cue when the drums opened up the chorus, and you belted those lyrics with all the anger and exasperation that he knew you’d felt when you’d written them. You were a force to be reckoned with- this was that girl he’d met when he’d walked into your apartment acting like a jackass; this was the firecracker of a woman who wasn’t afraid to tell him exactly what she thought. 
I know the part I’ve played before
I know the shit that I’ve ignored
I know the girl that you adored
She’s dead, it’s time to fucking mourn
I can’t spoon-feed you anymore
I can’t spoon-feed you anymore
Dinner’s served, it’s on the floor
I can’t spoon-feed you anymore
You dropped to a crouch, for the end of the chorus, legs bent but spread slightly, and flashing lights glinted off the metal buckles of your platform boots. Your voice ripped from your chest as you belted into the mic.
You’ll have to eat me as I am
You’ll have to eat me as I am
Eddie was incredibly grateful for the crouch you’d dropped into, because it gave him a view of your ass that was so perfect, he actually groaned. Swooned, practically. Thank god you had his mic and the music was loud enough that no one noticed. He hoped. However, anyone with eyes could probably see that he was basically undressing you with his gaze right now, so he really needed to get it together unless he wanted to be on a front page tomorrow for the wrong reasons. He cringed, imagining the headline Munson Ogles Popstar Half His Age. Mid-Life Crisis? Yeah. His publicist would love that one. 
You stood back up, stalking the edge of the stage as you sang the second verse. When you were about halfway through, you turned to look over your shoulder at Eddie, and it just about knocked the breath from his lungs. Your eyes- lined in black and zeroing in on him like something out of his metalhead fantasies- smoldered like embers on the edge of a cigarette as you sang the second half of the verse to him. 
Longer hair and tighter clothes
Would you like me better if I didn’t oppose?
Silver platters, pretty bows…
You were at his side now, turned sideways from the crowd so you were facing him as he turned to face you in tandem. About a foot away from each other, the only thing between you was his guitar, thankfully big enough to hide the way his hard-on was quickly growing harder with every moment you looked at him with those eyes. 
Your expression shifted, eyes rolling as you threw your head back in mock boredom, amping the lines up to the extreme. As you lifted your head back up, you looked at him with the brattiest fucking face Eddie had ever seen as you delivered the final line of the verse into the mic.
…Fuck. 
And then you smirked, tip of your tongue peeking out of your lips and you winked at him. 
Fucking. Winked. 
Ohhhhhh, you were doing this on purpose. You had to be. 
And Eddie couldn’t do shit about it, because you were in the middle of a performance, on stage, jumping around in platform boots and screaming the chorus into your mic like fucking banshee. So he channeled every ounce of sexual frustration into shredding the fuck out of his guitar and staring you down, salivating at the way you blazed on that stage like a witch at the stake. Then, about halfway through that chorus, at the edge of the stage and working the crowd for all they could give you, Eddie just about had a heart attack.
Because you dropped to your fucking knees.
You let the music take control of you, screaming ‘I can’t spoon-feed you anymore’ into the mic, you dropped down to one knee followed by the other as you delivered the final lines before Eddie’s solo.
You’ll have to eat me as I am
You’ll have to eat me as I am
You held your last note long and loud, widening your knees and leaning into a backbend that didn’t stop until your upper back touched the stage behind you. Eddie was amazed that he was even able to remember his part when you were in front of him doing that. Jesus Christ.
Eddie continued to play, and he saw you crane your neck just in time to make eye contact with him as you delivered the next line of the song. You brought the mic to your lips, your knees still spread open and your spine deliciously arched.
Choke on it!
God…you were gonna kill him. 
You pushed yourself back into a kneeling position, facing the audience. As Eddie’s guitar solo became more complex, and his playing more impressive, your jaw dropped as you looked to the audience and fanned yourself, as if you were all sharing a joint reaction of ‘wow, are you guys hearing this too?!’. Eyes crinkling from your smile, you brought the mic to your mouth again. 
Choke on it!
Once you were back on your feet, you stood at ease in the center of the stage as you waited out Eddie’s solo. When he finished, you stared down the crowd as you delivered the last chorus. At this point, Eddie could see some of the spectators mouthing the words along with you, and his chest swelled with pride at your ability to win over a crowd that hadn’t even been expecting you on stage. Hell, knowing his fans, most of them were probably older than you by several years, and yet here they were singing your song. 
When you drew your first breath after the final note, the crowd went wild. He expected you to be staring at them, soaking up the energy of a satisfied throng of fans, but no- immediately, your eyes were on him, an ear-to-ear smile stretching across your face. You had just absolutely killed your first song performed in two years, and you wanted to share your joy with him before you shared it with anyone else. 
Eddie couldn’t help but mirror your smile- it was the least he could do, after the way you just made his heart swell to triple its usual size. He took a few steps over to where Jeff stood with his bass, nodding to the mic in a silent question, to which Jeff gladly stepped aside. 
“If this is what happens when you take a two-year hiatus,” Eddie said slyly into the mic, “then maybe you should do it more often, rockstar.”
The crowd cheered again, and you looked caught off guard by his calling you rockstar instead of popstar. To Eddie, it made perfect sense- tonight, there was nothing pop about you. You were rock & roll incarnate, his equal in every single way. You took a few steps back until you and he were the same distance from the edge of the stage, and as long as he was speaking, your eyes never left him.
“So I’ve been working with this absolute badass on an album- well no, I’m giving myself way too much credit, she wrote an album, I plucked a few guitar strings, yada yada yada-” You giggled as Eddie reminded the crowd of your name, loud and clear, so they knew who to look up on Spotify later. “-anyway, her album drops in a week, that last song you heard was called…”
Eddie looked at you with expectant eyes and a devilish smile. He wanted to hear you say it. Just for fun. He enjoyed being a little shit. 
You smirked into your mic. “Eat Me.” 
The crowd cheered again, all it took was hearing you say two little words. Eddie knew the feeling.  
“We’ve got one more before our lovely guest has to leave the stage, and this one is my personal favorite off the album.” Eddie started warming up with a couple chords from the song before adding, “This is Freak.”
You had replaced the mic into its stand at center stage, which was where Eddie headed to meet you. During sound check, you had asked him if he would need his own mic for this one, but Eddie- selfishly- had said it was no problem, and he didn’t mind sharing. That was a drastic understatement though, since he would happily leap at any excuse to have his lips close to yours in any capacity at all. 
You smiled at him, and you were doing that thing again- that thing where you looked at him like you were giving him a dare. That thing where you touched the tip of your tongue to your upper lip. 
Eddie wanted to bite that lip.
Instead, he smoldered down at you as he began the opening chords to Freak. 
***
You may not have been sure about Eddie’s feelings before tonight, but you were now. 
He wanted you. Bad. So bad, you felt high off the lust that was rolling off the man beside you. 
You could tell by the way he was looking at you that he wanted to do so many things to you here and now, but due to the giant crowd before you that wasn’t an option. The power trip of knowing that every move you made was driving him crazy and he couldn’t do shit about it made you feel bratty as fuck, and you channeled every ounce of that into each word of your next song. 
Pinch me, singe me, inch me to the edge
Your eyes fluttered shut as you let the sultry lyrics take over, arms bending as you brought them up to dance above your head as you stretched your neck back. Your pose mimicked the way you might have stretched across a bed, arching your back slightly in a way that you knew would make Eddie’s mind wander to all the right places. 
Prod me, laud me, ungodly but heaven-sent
As the tempo picked up for the bridge, your lips brushed the mic and you bounced slightly to the beat. Looking up at Eddie, you felt your chest tighten when you saw how blown his pupils were as they zeroed in on you. There was nothing silly or flirty in his gaze now- this was lust, want, need… it was predatory in a way that made you shiver.
Get your tickets to the freak show, baby
Step right up to watch the freak go crazy.
Eddie’s guitar launched into the chorus with you, both of your mouths breaking your little standoff by smiling because you couldn’t help yourselves- performing together, this close, singing lyrics that the two of you connected with- you were having so much fun. 
Am what I am and what I am is a piece of meat
Take a bite just to watch me bleed
Freak
Say what you want and what you want is behind your teeth
Ain’t gotta spell it out for me
Freak
Now Eddie’s lips were the ones on the mic, his throaty voice tearing through the air in a way that made you stop short from its power alone. He sang the first two lines on his own-
Bait me, you can cage me
Even plate me, I don’t care
You joined him for the bridge on one side of the mic while his mouth remained in place at the other, and his voice dropped down to his chest to create a sound that was more growl than song. He sounded demonic, feral- damn, you wanted to jump his bones right now. 
Get your tickets to the freak show, baby
Step right up to watch the freaks go crazy
As you both sang the chorus together this time, your eye contact across the microphone was charged with feelings reflected as though you were looking in a mirror. Anticipation for what would happen after this show was building with every lyric, and as he growled his lines into the mic you wondered what the headline would be if you stuck your tongue down his throat right now. 
Unfortunately, that wasn’t how you wanted to start this next leg of your career- at least publicly. Different time, different place. Like, say, in about thirty minutes. In your dressing room. Against a wall, preferably.
When you finished the chorus, Eddie shredded through his guitar solo like a bat out of hell, even improvised a scream into the mic that made your jaw drop yet again. Upon hearing it, you couldn’t help but let out a surprised laugh, hopping up and down in your platform boots and headbanging along with him. After he’d finished, you took hold of the mic stand with both hands and began chanting repeating lines that would take you through to the next chorus before ending the song. 
Came from the trauma, stayed for the drama
You sang the line twice before Eddie joined you for the third and fourth repetition, that deep, ripping croon tearing its way through his throat and out of his plush pink lips less than an inch from yours. You wanted to turn your head and look at him so badly, but you were so close that you’d be locking lips if you did. 
As you both sang the final chorus, you pulled back just enough for your gazes to meet; you were rewarded with lust blown umber eyes, sweat-soaked curls framing a face as timeless as music itself, and a grin that sparked pure joy in your very soul. 
If this guy can fuck, you might just fall for him. 
Eddie prompted the audience to cheer for you one more time after the song was over, shooting you a smile as he brought you in for a friendly hug. He was in front of thousands; you knew his hands would remain in strictly G-rated areas (unfortunately), but he did whisper in your ear out of range from the mic. 
“Wait for me in your dressing room.”
Bingo. 
You thought about following his lead- waiting patiently in your dressing room for him to finish up his show then have his way with you- but you had a better idea. You tilted your head up quickly to bring your lips up to his ear, your clear lip gloss catching its shell.
“I’m gonna keep watching you in the wings- you can do whatever you want after that.” 
Your eyes met as you pulled away, and you let yourself revel for a moment at the way he looked at you- like he wanted to, well…eat you. Eyes so dark they were almost black under the stage lights, he shook his head slightly in disbelief. Again, you felt that familiar rush of adrenaline from driving him crazy when he couldn’t do a fucking thing about it; you were beginning to think you might be addicted.
As Corroded Coffin finished their set, you stayed offstage and did exactly what you said you would- you watched Eddie every second. You were like a sponge soaking up every flip of his hair, every deft movement of his fingers as they flew across the frets of his guitar. Every once in a while, his eyes would flick to where you stood, checking to see if you were still there, which of course you were. Each time he saw you, you watched as he shook his head again, or rolled his eyes, or- in one case which almost resulted in you melting into a puddle on the floor- maintaining eye contact as he belted out lyrics to songs he wrote, with a gaze so smoldering it felt as if there were no one in the whole arena but the two of you. With every minute, every note, every song- you felt him spinning a web around you like a spider trapping its prey, and you willingly anticipated the moment he would finally storm off the stage and drink you dry.
And that’s exactly what he did.
The last song ended, and Eddie wasted no time in ripping his guitar from his torso, handing it to a roadie without a second glance and grabbing you by the hand. You didn’t protest as he pulled you into a corner backstage away from any prying eyes. Before you could think a coherent thought besides Wow, I’m wet, Eddie took both your wrists in his strong, ring-dappled hands and slammed them above your head against the wall. His eyes, black with lust and wolfishly hungry, bored into yours as he used the last ounce of restraint to hold himself back long enough to ask the vital question, “Tell me, you want this?”
He bit the words out; growled them into your face as your eyes widened, desire painting your expression a gorgeous shade of pathetic as you nodded desperately. A deep groan sounded from his chest as Eddie pressed his pelvis against yours, and you gasped at how hard he was. “Words, sweetheart, I need you to say it.”
That familiar flare of indignation in your chest mingled with the flames in your core that burned for all he had to give you. Your eyes shifted, screaming rebellion that harmonized with the submission that your body so desperately craved. The corner of your mouth quirked up in a mocking half-smile. “Fuck yes, I want it, what do you think I was bouncing around out there for-”
His lips murmured a “Fucking Christ,” as he cut your sentence short, smashing his needy mouth against your burgeoning smirk. His arms crumbled as he finally felt the release of his skin on yours, caging you in as his forearms collapsed against the wall, hands still closed around your wrists. His biceps flexed, framing your faces as he all but devoured you in a kiss that was so wanting, so possessive- it claimed you. It ruined all kisses that came before it and would ever follow it. 
He was ruining you, and you committed the way his whole body covered yours and made you feel both safe and coveted to memory, imprinting it on your mind knowing that you would probably never feel this wanted ever again. 
Then, just as soon as he was on you, his touch lifted away. 
A needy whine escaped your lips before you could hold it back. Eddie slotted his tattooed hand into the space where your neck met your jawline, thumb caressing your skin as he smiled sweetly down at you- but his eyes were anything but sweet.
“I gotta go back out for the encore. Go take these off-” you melted into his touch as his other hand played with the buckles at the front of your top. His hand at your neck crept back, taking your chin between his thumb and the middle knuckles of his forefinger as if he were scolding a child.
“-and wait in your dressing room.”
Your eyelids were heavy, and you smirked as you opened your mouth to argue-
“And don’t fucking argue with me.”
You bit the reply into your bottom lip- you could save the brattiness for later. Just as Eddie had begun to pull away, his eyes dropped to your teeth on your lip and in half a second he was on you again.
He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, running his tongue along the soft skin before biting down firm enough to set off your mental alarms yet soft enough that you didn’t feel any pain from it. He pulled away once more, letting your lip go with a little pop.
“Been wanting to do that all night.” Eddie said, his shit-eating grin back in full force as he winked at you and jogged back to the stage. You stayed put for a second, smiling like an idiot as you heard the roar of the crowd, imagining what Eddie must look like while he returned to the stage with lips pink and swollen from his attempt at eating you alive. No one would know why he looked out of breath and a little extra happy… but you would. 
You’d never walked as fast in your life as you did in that moment, making a beeline for your dressing room, fingers already beginning to work on the buckles at your sternum.
***
When Eddie opened the door to your dressing room about ten minutes later, the gigantic grin on his face fell instantly when he saw you lounging on the couch in the same clothes you’d been wearing during sound check, sans your oversized skull sweatshirt. Your black shorts and knit tank top still showed plenty of skin, but he had explicitly told you to take off your clothes and wait for him. You were still in the mood to brat out, apparently. 
You looked up at him from your phone, smiling sweetly with challenging eyes. “Hi.”
Eddie closed the door behind him, leaning against it as it shut. “Hi.” he mimicked, crossing his inked forearms over his chest. He stared at you silently, expectantly.
You raised an eyebrow, coyly pretending not to know what he was being so pissy about. “What?”
Eddie pushed off the door, walking towards you at a pace that was agonizingly slow. “You know what.” 
You huffed haughtily, looking back at your phone and pretending to be more interested in your screen than the man who’d had you panting up against a wall ten minutes ago. “Well that’s a little presumptuous of you, I’m not a mind reader.”
It didn’t take Eddie long to cross the expanse of your tiny dressing room, deftly sliding the phone from your hands and placing it on a low table beside the couch. “Should’ve known you weren’t listening earlier,” Eddie tsked and shook his head in disappointment. “I know you were a little distracted back there, sweetheart, but when I told you to take your clothes off, I meant it.”
You sighed as Eddie stared down at you from where he stood, towering over you as you laid back against the couch cushions. His gaze devoured you piece by piece as it roved over your wide eyes, glossy lips- your shoulders still shining from sweat after giving your all to the stage, your chest as it rose and fell with your quickening breath. 
“Well,” you purred, like a cat who knew they were the center of attention and didn’t mind it in the slightest. “You didn’t say not to put on clothes after I took the other ones off…”
As you spoke he leaned forward, placing a knee on the couch between your legs so that your heat was only inches from his thigh. His hands splayed across your rib cage, admiring the stark contrast between his ink-covered hands and your soft, cream-colored shirt. It was thin enough to see… wait, were you-?
Eddie smirked, a breathy laugh escaping through his nose as he pulled the fabric taut, confirming his suspicions that yep, you weren’t wearing a bra. 
Oblivious to Eddie’s train of thought, you continued, “...if you wanted me to just wait here for you naked then you should’ve been more specif-”
Rrrrriiiiipp!
Your jaw dropped, cold air hitting your bare breasts without warning as Eddie tore your shirt open. You squealed, your shocked voice jumping up several octaves. “Eddie!” but your eyes told a different story. You were pissed, but the anger you felt was nothing compared to how fucking hot he looked after doing something as dominant and unexpected as ripping your fucking clothes off. 
He raised his eyebrows, giving you a moment to push him away in case he had gone too far- but you didn’t. Instead, you narrowed your eyes up at him and crossed your arms over your bare chest, pressing your cleavage together the way you knew would drive him nuts. “That was fucking Gucci!” you pouted.
Eddie laughed, taking your crossed arms and shoving them up above your head over the arm of the couch as he mockingly imitated your high-pitched “‘That was fucking Gucci!’” he lowered himself over you, bringing his face to the hollow of your neck, and you heard him inhale the scent of you from your collarbone to your ear. He wrapped his lips around the underside of your ear and sucked, then bit, savoring your little moan at the sensation. His mouth met your ear as he growled, “Wouldn’t have happened if you’d just done as you were told, instead of being a little fucking brat.”
Eddie pulled back, sitting up on his knee that was still slotted between your legs as he cupped his hands around your naked breasts. He kneaded them, played with you like he was testing out a brand new toy. He addressed you without looking up into your eyes as he continued to paw at your chest. “You gonna be a good girl now and do what I tell you to?”
You raised your eyebrows, amused that he expected your submission so quickly. Smugly, you looked up at him through narrowed eyes, placing your hands behind your head like a pillow and sighed petulantly. 
“Fucking bite me.”
His eyes snapped up at you, thick with predatory disbelief at your cheek even when he had you half naked beneath you. He’d been challenged before, sure- but at this point, when he had his woman pinned down and moaning under him, he was usually the undisputed decision-maker during sex. The smile that bloomed across his lips was devilish, almost like there was a beast within him that had been kept safely under lock and key- until you’d said that. 
Eddie was on you, grabbing one breast and enveloping the nipple in a harsh suck of his lips, biting down on the little nub hard. You gasped, the sound a lewd, sharp moan that brought out a laugh in him so nefarious it gave you chills. He looked up at you with eyes alight with amusement and feral need that shook you to your core.
“Oh, baby-” he laughed, crawling up until his face hovered over yours. “-I’m gonna have some fucking fun with you.”
Taking your face in his hands, Eddie Munson kissed you like it was what he had been put on God’s green earth to do. His lips moved against yours with a beautiful mix of urgency and devotion, like you could just tell that right here, right now, there was nothing else he cared about except making sure you knew exactly how badly he wanted- needed-  to make you his. He slowly lowered the rest of his body until his pelvis was flat against yours, grinding into your clothed heat and exploiting the chink in your brat armor that was the his fucking size. 
You bucked your hips up into him, craving friction as you moaned into his mouth. Eddie chuckled, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “What’s the matter baby, you need something?” 
You pouted against him, moving a hand to reach between the two of you and palm him through his jeans, but he knocked your hand out of the way, continuing to dry hump you to insanity. You whined as he bit your pouting lip, sucking it into his mouth before his tongue slipped into yours. It explored you, tasting you as your tongue happily let him in. You felt his hand creep down your torso, giving your abused, bitten tit a little squeeze before traveling further down to the button of your shorts.
He undid the button with ease before you registered that he was taking off your clothes after he had denied you access to do the same to him. “Hey,” you panted, reaching for him, “you first, that’s not fair. I’m nearly naked and you haven’t even taken off your shirt.”
Eddie chuckled, tilting his head to the side as he feigned confusion. “Fair?” he asked, “Since when did you want to play fair?” He reached back down to your shorts, button already undone, and gently pulled down the zipper. “You were the one out there- as you said- ‘bouncing around’-” His hands raked up your thighs until they reached the hem of your shorts and slowly tugged them down as you lifted your hips slightly so he could remove them smoothly. Eddie smirked; NOW she does what I want her to do.  “-knowing full well I couldn’t do a damn thing about it… and that fucking wink-” His eyes rolled back in his head just imagining it. He groaned as he pulled your shorts from your feet and discarded them on the floor. “-what the fuck was that, huh? Trying to get a rise out of me, baby?”
You giggled, bubbly laughter floating into a breathy sigh as Eddie’s finger traced the line of your slit through your panties. “Hmmmmm, like it when you call me baby.” you hummed.
 He raised an eyebrow, “Oh you do?” His finger traveled up over the fabric, and he chuckled when you bucked up into his touch as the pad of his finger passed over your clit. That finger slipped under the elastic waistband of your panties, pulling it upwards off your skin as far as it could stretch. “You’re entirely too happy right now,” he stated, matter-of-factly. He let go of the elastic, making you jump with a breathy whimper as it hit your skin with a soft sting. “I’m switching back to sweetheart.”
You whined and he laughed as he continued to play with the elastic on your panties. He stared at them, entranced, before a wolfish grin took up residence on his face. “You like these?” he asked, and you knew where this was going right away. 
You rolled your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. “How kind of you to ask this time.” 
The grin grew, and he took the crotch of your panties into his fist, grabbing the fabric above it with his other hand to do the same. You ground your hips against his knuckles as they brushed your pussy, already soaked and eager for any friction you could get. “Yeah, you know what,” he voiced, as if he were simply thinking out loud. “I don’t really care if you like them or not.” 
And with that, another article of clothing was ripped to shreds by Eddie Munson and his stupid, tattooed, ring-covered, sexy-as-fuck hands. 
This time you couldn’t even be offended; you were just fucking feral at this point. While he was still distracted by your panties, you quickly shoved yourself up to a kneeling position, startling him enough that he moaned into the fervent kiss that crashed into his mouth. The two of you knelt on the couch cushions, hands grabbing at fabric desperately in a quest to make your skin connect at every square inch you had. Eddie allowed you to pull his shirt over his head, and the shallow breath you had left was instantly knocked from your lungs when you took in the ink that decorated his torso. Some tattoos were old and faded almost blue, while others looked newer- song lyrics, mythical creatures, hellish images adorned his skin like a tapestry that belonged in a museum- but it was here, under your hands. All for you. You couldn’t hold yourself back from bending down a little lower, sliding your tongue up his sternum over the masterpieces scarred into his skin and licking a long, broad stripe from his chest until you reached the tip of his chin. You felt him shiver, arms tightening around you after shoving the remains of your tank top over your shoulders. You started to push him back, planning to open his pants and show him what else you could do with your tongue- but Eddie wasn’t about to let you be on top after the way you’d been acting all night. 
“Mm-mm, nope.” he mumbled, stepping off the couch.
“I’m just trying to suck your cock, baby. Please?”  You looked up at him with your best puppy-dog eyes, widening your legs as you knelt on the couch facing him, squishing your boobs together in that way that usually got you exactly what you wanted. For some reason, Eddie was immune. 
He placed his hand along your neck, thumb and forefinger squeezing just enough for him to feel your pulse. The way your eyes widened, looking up at him the same way you had when he’d shoved you up against a wall earlier- it brought a satisfied hum out of Eddie, and he loved the way he could feel your heartbeat quicken slightly. There was no hiding what you felt when his hand was wrapped around your throat. 
“You like calling me baby, sweetheart?”
You gulped. He felt it, of course, and he had to hold back a laugh- you looked so cute like this. Made him want to break you just to see what you’d be like when he picked up the pieces. 
Your eyes were blown wide, like a hunted fox with nowhere to run. “Is that okay? Can I call you baby?”
His face crumpled- god, you were adorable. Eddie smiled sympathetically, “Oh you can call me whatever you want, sweetheart-” His thumb moved up to your bottom lip, stroking gently before working it into your mouth; he groaned, head thrown back when he felt your soft, wet tongue swirl around his digit and coat it with your spit. 
“-don’t care what you’re calling me as long as you know I own your ass tonight.”
And then you moaned- oh, you fucking moaned his name around his finger in your mouth, and his cock twitched at the way it sounded. He wanted to record that, play it on loop, put it in a fucking song, hell- anything for him to be able to listen to it again and again and again. He wanted everyone to hear it, to know it was his name on your fucking tongue.
His thumb ripped from your mouth, replaced by his middle and ring finger, delving surprisingly deep into your mouth as you gagged around them. Your tongue quickly resumed its previous motions, lapping at his thick fingers and sliding over, under, around, between them. You reveled in the taste of metal as you tongued his silver rings. You gasped when he removed his fingers before, without warning, he slid them into your weeping pussy.
Your expression was beautifully obscene, eyes wide with surprise while your mouth- glistening with spit from his fingers leaving in a rush- fallen open in a silent scream. Eddie thrust his fingers up and into you repeatedly, forcing you open wider and wider with the rapid motion.
“Actually, I changed my mind,” Eddie grit into your ear, “I don’t wanna hear anything but my goddamn name leave that pretty ‘lil mouth until I’m done with you, aright?”
You were moaning, but evidently that was still not enough to deter you from being your snarky self. “Well that’s unrealistic, I’ll probably say more than just tha- ah! Oh fuck-!”
Eddie’s pace was relentless, fingers ripping through you with a vengeance as he muttered “Bratty little slut-” spearing you over and over as you sped toward the white-hot precipice that wasn’t quite release, but certainly what Eddie intended to pull out of you. 
You moaned as what felt like a dam within you suddenly gave way, flooding your inner thighs, Eddie’s hand, and the couch beneath you. Eddie smiled wide, the muscles in his arm screaming pointlessly- he wasn’t going to stop until you’d given him every last drop there was to give. 
“-yeah, not so bratty when you’re squirting all over my hand, are you baby? What, are you trying to say something? Spit it out, popstar-”
The noises tumbling from your lips were anything but coherent, Eddie knew that. He just kept grinning like a kid in a candy store as you babbled sounds that might have been his name, might have been a prayer, might have just been yes, yes, yes, Eddie, god yes! 
Whatever it was, it was music to his ears. 
Eddie looped his arms under your knees, pulling you into a sitting position with your legs wide open. Dropping to his knees, he stared at your spread pussy, glistening with the slick he’d just wrestled from you. His hands, wet with all you’d given him, grasped your thighs firmly but gently as he looked up into your eyes. It might have been the post-orgasmic haze you were experiencing, but for a second, Eddie looked at you with nothing in his eyes but care and admiration. His gaze shone like sunlight as he looked up at you, your stomach creasing from the crunch position he'd placed you in, your breasts rising and falling with each breath- the way he stared at you made you feel like an angel. 
“God, you’re fucking beautiful.” he whispered, hands squeezing your thighs affectionately. Before you could even react, his tongue was on you, lapping away at your soaked pussy. You mewled, head thrown back and spine arching as unraveled you from the inside out. He traced endless intricate shapes over your clit, your lips, your hole- thoughts flew from your brain as you let his mouth drive you fucking wild. His ministrations slowed at one point, causing you to open your eyes- you couldn’t even remember when you’d closed them- and look up at Eddie. 
Upon looking up, you were blessed with the sight of Eddie Munson, close-cut beard soaked with your slick, shirtless, pantsless, and currently pulling off his black boxers to reveal a cock that made you salivate on sight.
You let your brattiness fly out the window- there would be time for more of it later, but right now you needed that cock in one of your holes and you didn’t quite care which one. 
Eddie stroked himself leisurely, eyes boring down into yours the whole time. “Tell me what you want, babygirl.”
You spread your legs open wider for him. “Please.” you whined. 
Eddie shook his head, disappointed, sinking to his knees again. “See, this is what I knew would happen,” he murmured, sliding a finger around your clit at a torturously slow pace. “I can’t believe you got fucked stupid already and I didn’t even have to use my cock, those were just my fingers, baby.” From the slick sounds you heard from below your line of sight, you knew that he was jerking himself off as he played with your pussy. It was enough to pull a desperate moan from your throat. He licked one flat, wet stripe from your opening to your clit before murmuring against you, “Can’t even use your words and tell me what you want, sweet girl’s been fucked too dumb to make decisions, is that right?”
You found yourself nodding ‘yes’, the dirty words flying out of his mouth in rapid succession throwing your brain into overdrive. He was right; you barely had the brain capacity to think right now, much less match his attitude with snark. All you could do was stare up at him with wide eyes, waiting for whatever he planned on doing next. 
Eddie clicked his tongue, tilting his head as he looked at you pityingly. “That’s right, don’t worry baby I’ll just make all the decisions now, okay?” He rose, leaning over you as he placed a knee to your side and stroked himself, lining up his fully hard cock at your entrance. Your heartbeat quickened, excitement and anticipation building now that you knew his cock would be inside you soon. You mewled as his tip stroked your slit, up and down and up and down again… and stopping at your hole, hovering outside you. 
You looked up at him desperately, only to breathe in sharply upon seeing his devilish grin paired with coal-black lust-blown eyes. 
“Beg for it.”
You sighed so heavy it became a sob, frustrated and scrunching up your face like you were ready to throw a tantrum. 
“Are you fucking kidding me?” you whined.
“There she is.” he murmured.
If looks could kill, your glare would have sent Eddie Munson to his deathbed. He matched it with a condescending smile that spoke volumes of the power trip he was on right now. Leaning in slightly closer, he repeated himself. “Beg, sweetheart.” 
You narrowed your eyes. “No.”
Eddie shrugged, backing up just enough for his cock to leave your skin- you knew it was over from there. 
“Wait!” you cried, eyebrows drawing together desperately under his cocksure gaze. Christ you didn’t want to beg, but you might not have a choice. Eddie waited patiently, stroking his cock absentmindedly as he watched you squirm below him. 
You looked up at him, giving him your best ‘fuck me’ eyes. “Please fuck me Eddie.” Your voice was honey sweet, soft and submissive.
Eddie crouched down, sticking a finger in his mouth before he used it to play with your pussy, stroking circles around your clit and pumping it slowly in and out of you. “Aww, baby…” he crooned before narrowing his eyes. “-we both know you can do better than that.”
You groaned, back arching as your hands fisted frustratingly into the cushions. “Eddie, pleaaasse-”
“Try harder, sweetheart.”
“Fuck, Eddie you fucking prick, just fucking fuck me, please, I need your cock-”
Eddie smiled- that was good enough for him. “‘Atta girl.” he groaned deeply as he pushed his cock into your waiting hole, your thankful moan mingling with his. 
His dick was perfect, filling you deliciously and long enough to just hit that spot beneath your clit that made your nerves go berserk. You didn’t realize how loud your moaning was until Eddie shut you up by covering your mouth with his own, swallowing down every sound you made and repaying you with noises of his own. 
“God, baby- so fuckin’ tight-”
You moaned, squeezing him as his cock speared you again and again. You were so built up between your squirting earlier and Eddie’s talented tongue- you were already getting close. 
As if he could read your mind, Eddie grunted out as he continued thrusting into you, “I’m nearly there already, baby, you gonna cum with me?”
You whined, nodding ‘yes’ as he pacified your mewling with his thumb. You lapped at it lewdly, covering him with a thick layer of your spit before releasing it with a pop. Eddie brought it down to your clit, working gentle circles around your bundle of nerves as his thrusting picked up the pace. You squirmed under him, chasing your release as you listened to the filth that poured from his mouth while he fucked the living shit out of you. 
“Jesus, fuck, so tight- my sweet girl, gonna fucking ruin you. Gonna make you come undone on my cock, just a fucking mess, gonna cum so hard on my cock-”
That last thing he said seemed to jerk him back into reality- his eyes grew wide, snapped out of his high as he looked down at you. “Shit, I don’t have a condom…baby, I’m so sorry, shit, where should I-”
You reached down, raking your nails softly over his hips. “I’m on birth control.” you said, smiling calmly. You kicked yourself for being so eager; normally you would still insist on a condom even with your implant, but Eddie just did something to you. “You haven’t been fucking any random groupies, have you?”
Eddie huffed, his laughter strained by his fast-approaching orgasm. “You’re the first in a while, angel. Last I checked I was clean, but I can still pull out if you-”
“Inside.” you whispered, grasping his ass and pulling him deeper into you. “I trust you, Eddie, I want you to fill me.”
His movements stuttered, big brown eyes wide and watching you like you were a miracle unfolding underneath him. He was still for half a second before his thumb resumed its movements over your clit as he thrusted faster, harder than before.
“Oh fuck, you want me to fill you baby? You want my fucking cum?” 
His cock speared into you as deep as it could go, Eddie’s attention to your clit driving you over the edge with relentless speed. “Yes, I want it Eddie, fuck, I’m gonna-”
“Fucking take it baby, cum on that cock.”
Eddie groaned as you clamped down on him, his seed spilling inside of you while your pussy fluttered around him. You arched your back until your face was pressed into the cushions behind you, muffling your whimpering voice as you moaned his name. 
A few moments passed, the air thick with the sound of heavy breathing and the smell of sex, before Eddie slowly pulled out of your wet heat. You laid there for a moment before you felt Eddie clean his sticky spend from your thighs and ass using a tissue. 
“Normally,” he said gently, “I would use a warm washcloth to do this, but we have limited options.” 
You sat up as he finished, smiling up at him playfully. “That sounds nice,” you said, “maybe I shouldn’t have listened to you earlier, made you wait until you couldn’t take it anymore and just whisked me off to your place.” 
Eddie sat down beside you, pulling you into his lap. He looked up at you with nothing but content sweetness in his eyes, any trace of the feral dominance from earlier gone for now. “I mean, we can still do that.”
You beamed, “Really?”
Eddie scoffed, tugging you closer. “What do you mean, ‘really’? You think I need to be desperately horny to want you in my bed?” 
You felt your cheeks heat up at the mention of his bed. “I don’t know… I guess I didn’t know if you wanted this to just be a one time thing, or…” You trailed off, unsure of what Eddie’s expectations had been for what happened after.
Eddie’s eyebrows drew together, confused. “Sweetheart,” he said, his finger tracing circles on your thigh affectionately. “We can hash out details whenever you’re comfortable… but tonight? I would count myself a very lucky man if you came home with me tonight.” He touched his forehead to yours, placing a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose. “Okay?” he asked.
You looked down, suddenly shy upon hearing his honey-sweet words. You gave him a quick peck on the lips before looking him in his big brown eyes. “Okay.” you whispered. 
Your eyes stayed connected, melting you until your lips met his again, kissing him sweetly as his hands worked their way to your ass, squeezing as he sighed into your kiss.
“Alright,” he grunted, playfully slapping your thigh as a signal to stand up. “Let’s get you dressed.”
You giggled. “In what? You ripped up all my clothes!” you held up the shredded panties, shaking your head in disbelief.
Eddie shrugged, stepping into his boxers. “I didn’t rip up all of them, don’t be so dramatic.” He picked up your shorts, tossing them to you. “Just go commando with the shorts and wear your sweatshirt, no one will know.” 
You sighed, stepping over your torn Gucci tank top and retrieving your bra from where it sat neatly folded in a chair. Eddie looked over his shoulder at you as you began to put it on and gasped. 
“You did have a bra!”
You smirked, reaching behind your back for the clasp. “Yeah… I wanted to see your face when I wasn’t wearing one.” 
Eddie shook his head, smiling like an idiot as he buckled his jeans. “Unbelievable.” he chided, “Was it worth it?”
You tugged your sweatshirt over the bra, taking a few steps in Eddie’s direction until you were close enough to snake your hand around to the back of his neck and pull him down for one more kiss. When you pulled away, Eddie looked down at you entranced, blinking rapidly as if emerging from a dream. He could only describe the feeling in his chest as complete and utter euphoria. 
You grinned up at him, eyes alight with adrenaline that still lingered from your performance onstage and absolute infatuation with the man before you.
 “So worth it.”
2K notes · View notes
honeyydrunk · 2 months
Text
nct are such fraternity boy college athletes fuckboys coded it's insane !! everyone i see a video of those men with the homosexual tendencies, vaping addiction, and their athletic garments, it really only cements this theory. their disography and music videos add to this too 😔✋ u know 90's love, universe (let's play ball), alley oop, bad alive eng ver.
can imagine them walking around this elite prestigious campus all loud and obnoxious. they know everyone is looking at them and want to fuck them too. they're chronic drinkers, vapers, cheaters, fuckboys. what would get most students expelled, they do on a tuesday afternoon.
nct are mostly made up of foreigners right? watch them walk around the campus as rich international students, some are here on academic or athletic scholarships they don't need. everything they own is designer. playing the 'sorry my korean isn't so good, can you help me?' card, and what they want help with is you sucking their dick.
the korean members aren't any better. they're every single horrible stereotype you hear of korean hongdae fuckboys. will come up to you all sweet and pretty, but they're horrid.
cw for under the cut: they are toxic males
can literally imagine haechan vaping on the college campus, moaning in the back of the class obnoxiously, and pulling the thing where he jokingly asks for your number ALL THE TIME. going to college parties and getting wasted after 3 drinks idk 🤷 ,,, he'd be so whiny and teasing too. bc obviously he's a rude BITCH but he's so pretty and whiny and flirtatious. he's fucking everything in sight, absolute whore!! his body count is triple his age. he'd genuinely try to suck one of his friends' dick and claim it doesn't mean anything because he has clothes on !! 😔✋ he'd be stroking his dick while you're in the room, whimpering your name. the type to get on his knees and beg for any kind of attention from you..
mark lee starting off being a cute college boy canadian transfer but becomes the NOTORIOUS korean pastor's son fuckboy in like the span of 3 months. he'll act real nice, and that's because he is real nice. being super sweet and asking if you want to get coffee with him and study. and he's so good with his words you'll think that's all it is. but then of course, since he's so good with his words he'll have you blushing and giggling as he takes you back to his apartment and gets your clothes off. talking yapping so much you don't even realise what he has you doing, that you're just another girl he's pulled. he'll still be whispering when his face is in your pussy. telling you how easily you cum. "dang girl, wait a lil' can't you?" implying you're the whore,
YUTA yuta is the entire campus crush. the star football ⚽️ player and the rockstar vocalist in a band. has sex with all the groupies that come to his concerts. he's dragging people up on stage to shotgun them while the guitar break plays. absolute heartbreaker. would definitely kick the ball to your head so that when it hits you, he has to go over check if you're alright, take you up to the nurse and wait with you. he is such a liar, it genuinely hurts. lying all the time and making up words and stories left and right. but he smells like cherries and watery perfume !! he tastes like it too. you'll be coming to all his garage concerts just to see if you'll be the one he takes backstage to fuck after. he's like a god, half the time you don't even realise he's a student like the rest of you. he's just an angel sent to have fun and fuck or smth.
jaemin nah he's horrid. he'll cheat on you, and with his cute smile you'll forgive him instantly. 😔✋ he'll spend a little cash dress you in designer, make you cum until you faint, and tell you how beautiful and perfect you are for him. he will genuinely have you thinking those girls meant nothing to him, theyre just a way to vent his stress and you're the only one he loves. and then bro will say he can't stay the night, as he needs to wake up early for training. you agree, obviously. and he left for another girl's house to fuck her too. when you met him he smelled so sweet, and it was someone else's perfume. each of his girls swear they're his favourite of his, and one day he's planning fucking them all in the same room.
JOHNNY SUH? he would abuse the american transfer student status. he walks around without a shirt, soaking wet, and never get pulled up. he's rich too, got bands on his wrist and multiple cars. going on holidays overseas every chance he get and hosting parties every weekend. when you get drunk at one of them, almost falling off the balcony, someone will come up and help you to a chair. he'll take real good care of you, going above and beyond. so you can't let this guy leave when he's everything you've ever wanted. so you pull yourself onto him and ride him while the party rages on inside. make sure his dick feels so good he'll ask for your number. but you don't know that you're the fifth girl who's thrown herself at him that night.
taeyongie ^-^ he's the prettiest guy you've ever seen. bros too sweet and shy to be handing out with the rest of the neo WHORES. he's the leader of a lot of clubs but he mainly sits in cute little cafes. genuinely he seemed too adorable? to be considered the 'leader' of some horrific ahh fuckboys. until you check twitter and you see someone's reposted his MANY MULTIPLE HE HAS A LOT sex tapes. he's surrounded by ridiculously hot guys and girls, and they're passing him around like a joint, and he's begging to be humiliated. they're making him cum so much he crying. he's stronger than most of them but he's letting himself be thrown around like a doll. absolutely wrecked. looking in the camera with pretty black eyes and a slurred voice before someone shoves a cock back in this throat "am i pretty?" zhong chenle is the epitome of the chinese international student stereotype. he's almost never there, never takes off his sunglasses. he has several of those douyin type baddies trailing after him. "you have nice collarbones and pretty eyes, i like. what's your instagram?" he'll be talking with his friend renjun about what yacht he should buy during class. he can buy your affection simply because he's just that rich. will shove his black card down his pants and tell you there's only one way to get it. buys rolex watches so that he can have it on while he fingers you. dresses you in diamonds and he doesn't want to be paid back in cash. qian kun is there on an academic scholarship, but he doesn't need it. he's just that good, the school begs to have him attend. he's not a fuckboy in the conventional sense but he's just as nasty. he wants to have the perfect girl for him, to bring back to his family. he'll look for the most naive but academic girl he can. he's a manipulator. he's trying to mold you into what he wants. he'll replace your entire wardrobe with designer, but he picked out all the clothes. he'll plan cute dates for you every day, but it's to stop you from hanging out with your skanky friends. he'll buy you a new phone, but he's already added software tech to spy on you. in some essences, even though he's not a fuckboy, he's much worse than one.
jisung, like taeyong, looks so sweet. but he's NASTY. he'll seem too quiet to be hanging out with the rest of the dreamie WHORES. so you don't mind sitting next to him in your lecture. but he's just a mix of all of dream. he's good with his words like mark, and he'll have you agreeing to meet at his place EASY. he's too cute to refuse like haechan and jaemin. and then the renjun part hits, silent and sneaky, he'll be doing everything to make you think you're coming on to him. once he finally has you, he'll make a mess of you like a feral animal, the way you've heard jeno fucks. and you realise he's just like the rest of the dreamies, you shouldn't have thought otherwise. he might actually be worse than all of them.
tell me if u want me to make these like a full post or add more characters IM SO CRAZY DELULU RN SORRY xx !! 💋
516 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
The Spice Girls in NYC photographed by Ann Summa, 1997
73 notes · View notes
vnti-vntiety-recs · 8 months
Text
The Harder I Fall (M)
Tumblr media
★  PAIRING: Toxic Ex! Haechan x Toxic?Reader
☆ WORD COUNT: 9.5K
★ GENRE(S): Smut, Angst, Drama, Ex2Lover
☆ SUMMARY: You find it hard to return to your normal day-to-day life after you break up with your ex, Haechan. He makes it his duty to make your life a living hell in order to see you. You're not sure why you thought it would be a good idea to date your cute punk rock neighbor, but you are soon to regret it.
★ ☆ WARNINGS: Swearing. Various acts of sexual intercourse. Unprotected sex. Unwanted creampie. Dubcon. Spit. Light choking, Brief mention of drinking. Kinda manipulation on hyuck’s part to get readers attention? Reader got commitment issues. Probably a bad description of punk rock band idk brah. MDNI
☆★ NOTES: this is the final installment of THE POISON ARCHIVES, this one is not as toxic as the other ones but still has toxic elements so beware 
:・゚✧:・.☽˚。・゚✧:・.::・゚✧:・.☽˚。・゚✧:・.::・゚✧:・.☽˚。・゚✧:・.::・゚✧
♫₊˚."Rehashing these feelings Swallowing the pain"♫₊˚.
You don't know why you thought it was a good idea to date someone who lives in the same apartment complex as you. You wish you would have thought this through when you said yes to your next-door neighbor's proposal when he suggested that you two start dating. Because now that you two have broken up, you are stuck seeing him every day.
When you return from work, you can never seem to avoid him, always catching him on the way up to your apartment. If that wasn't awkward enough, you have to listen to him bring girls home every other night. You don't think your relationship ended on bad terms, but he thinks differently. You know he does because on the nights when he doesn't have someone screaming his name, a constant reminder of the person you want to forget, he is blasting music at frequencies you can't drown out. Ever since you two broke up, your ex-boyfriend Haechan has been a pain in the ass. He makes it his duty to make your life a living hell. He knows your schedule, so he knows exactly when to bother you. Tonight is one of those nights. You had come from work late as usual, and all you wanted to do was lay in bed and sleep.
Not on Haechan’s watch
Haechan is blasting old 90s rock music when you're walking up the stairs to your apartment. You internally groan as you fish out your keys from your pocket, unlocking your door, and you try to stay positive. Today has been a good day for you so far, and you wanted to keep it that way.
"At Least he doesn't have someone over," you think in return. You would much rather listen to old rock music than some random girl's high-pitched moaning and the repeated banging of the headboard against the wall. Sometimes you wonder if that's what your other neighbors had to go through when you and Haechan were together. You head for the shower and pray that by the time you get out, he's getting ready for bed. It's already 12 a.m.; he should be tired by now.
The reason you and Haechan were able to get close in the first place was because you both were night owls. You both worked late and always returned home at the same time. You would catch him in the parking lot as you two made your way home. Sometimes he would invite you over, and you two would talk about work and whatever else crossed your mind at 1 a.m. Through these late-night convos You found out that Haechan was just his nickname; your handsome neighbor's name was actually Donghyuk. You also learned that he was in a band that primarily made its income through gigs at bars and other small venues, and that Haechan was the name he used on stage. Although everyone called him Haechan, you thought his real name was cute and couldn't help but give him a nickname based on it. When you first started calling him Hyuck, he hated it, but it grew on him. You enjoyed your late-night chats with Haechan, and you wanted to see more of him, so when one night he asked you out on a date, you couldn't say no. After that, you two started to see each other more often and began to date.
You were in a relationship with Haechan for five months before you broke up with him. You were having to work a lot more overtime to pay the bills, and you just didn't have time for a relationship anymore. You thought Haechan would understand and that things would be cool between you two, but obviously not.
After you exited the shower, his music was still blasting, and you could practically feel the bass rattling your bones. How has he not been evicted by now? Did your other neighbors just not have ears, or maybe yours were just too sensitive? You wrap yourself securely in your robe and march over to his doorstep. You bang on his door repeatedly for at least a minute before he answers. Haechan swings the door open, meeting your gaze with one that matches your level of annoyance. How dare he act like you're inconveniencing him when he's the one keeping the entire neighborhood awake!
"I know you're a struggling artist and all, but you at least own a clock, right?" You deadpan with a quirk of your eyebrow.
"Of course I do. How else would I know what time to piss you off?" He smiles sarcastically.
You absolutely hate this little back-and-forth that you have going on with him. You know he does this to get your attention so that you come charging over here and bang down his door. He just wants to see you, and you hate to give him what he wants, but you know it's the only way to get him to turn down the music.
"Pls Hyuck I have work tomorrow, and it's late. I just want to sleep," you plead with him exasperatedly.
"What do I get in return?" He asks, looking down at you through his bangs. He must have just finished a show because his eyes were still smothered in smokey black liner.
"I won't file a noise complaint; It's my third one this week. Didn't the landlord say they would kick you out if I complained again?" He knows they're empty threats, but he's gotten what he wanted, so he lets them go.
"Since you asked so nicely. I'll do it just this once," he says, shutting the door in your face, and in the next few seconds, the music is lowered to a bearable hum through the walls. Once you play his little game, he's always kind enough to reward you, as he always has. When you return home and find it quiet enough to sleep.
Haechan knew the first thing you would do when the two of you broke up was try to avoid him at all costs, but he wasn't going to let that happen. He's always making excuses to have to see you. Sometimes, when he's not at home and he knows you will be, he asks you to grab a package for him or groceries that he ordered so that you can bring them to him later. Other times he will knock on your door, asking to borrow a few eggs or your hammer—anything he can think of that he knows you have. You have already come to accept the fact that you can't get rid of him, but that doesn't stop you from trying.
It's been a few days since the music incident, and miraculously, you haven't seen him around. Lately, you can hear him getting home just a few minutes ahead of you. He must have been too tired to bother you lately; either that or he's matured past his little pranks. You think tonight is another night that you're in the clear. When you arrive home, you don't see Haechan’s car in the parking lot. You don't want to run into him, so you rush up the stairs to your apartment. You giddyly look for your house keys, thinking you finally got one over on him, when you realize they are missing from your keyring. The keyring is old and bent out of shape, so the key must have slipped off during the day. You were horrified; you were beyond tired and in desperate need of a nice warm shower. You let out a huff of annoyance. You could stay at your friend's house for the night, but she lives 30 minutes away, and you don't think you can get behind the wheel of a car without immediately driving off the nearest cliff.
You were already having a rough day, and this was the icing on the cake. Before you can wrack your brain for a solution, an even bigger problem presents itself. Haechan returns home with his bass strapped to his back and his hair a wild mess. He must have returned from band practice, probably getting into another fight with one of his members. He meets your eyes with a tired smile.
"You look like shit," you comment before you can stop yourself.
"I think you meant hello; how was your day?" He rolls his eyes as he reaches his door. He begins fishing his keys out of his jacket pocket when he turns to you again. "Why are you sitting here?" he questions with a quirk of a brow.
"I think the air is fresher during this time," you say mockingly.
 "Oh really? Well, have fun with that princess," he smirks as he finally unlocks his door, letting himself inside.
He leaves you outside. Curse you and your big mouth. Would it kill you to be nice? You really didn't want to ask, but you really had no choice. You worked a double shift today, and your body was on the brink of collapse. You knew what he wanted; he wanted you to come crawling to him for a favor so he could hold it over your head, and you really didn't want to give into his games, but just like always, you had no choice. After 10 minutes of contemplation, you knock on his door softly. A few seconds pass before he opens the door.
"What? Is the air not fresh enough?" He mocks, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.
"Look, I'm sorry for earlier, but I'm locked out, and today has not been my day. Can I stay over?" You plead. 
Hmm, maybe you should ask a little nicer, and I'll consider it. '' That bastard was definitely getting a kick out of this. What was his redeeming quality again?
"Please, hyuck, just do me this one favor; I promise I'll pay you back." You gritted your teeth.
"You better keep your promise," he says as he opens the door wider for you to come in. "You already know where everything is to make yourself comfortable; I'm gonna hop in the shower." He leaves you to go grab what he needs as you take off your shoes to follow him to his room.
You sat your things down on the nightstand by his bed. "I don't mind sharing a bed with you; just stay on your side, get it?" You look at him with an accusatory glare.
Haechan raises his hands in defense with a smile as he walks backwards into the bathroom. He doesn't say anything more and shuts the door behind him. You busy yourself and go through his drawers to find a comfy shirt and a pair of his boxers. You grab a towel from the towel closet and wait your turn for the shower. You scroll on your phone as you wait. When Haechan finally exits, he's wearing a plain white shirt and his boxers. Even in the simplest of clothes, he looks so good. You distract yourself with your phone again, hoping he doesn't catch you staring at him as he dries his hair in the mirror.
"Did you leave me some hot water?" you question, knowing that he probably used it all just to get on your nerves. He always liked it when you got angry at him.
"Of course, what kind of host would I be if I didn't?" he says as he plops down next to you on the bed. "I also thought of a way you can repay me," he says, looking up at you with a smug look on his face.
"If it's something perverted, absolutely not," you say as you stand to get in the shower.
"It's innocent, I promise," he laughs.
You don't hear him as you shut yourself inside his bathroom, turning on the water. You knew Haechan’s definition of innocence was definitely far from normal. This wasn't good. Sleeping in the same bed as your ex? Especially one that loves tormenting you, was not a smart move. You knew he was up to no good the moment you saw him come up the stairs. He looked tired, but as soon as he laid eyes on you, you could see a fire ignite behind them.
You finish freshening up and sport the clothes you stole from his drawer. When you join him on the bed, he's scrolling on his phone. When he lowers his phone and stares at you with a quirked eyebrow, you finally take notice of how close you were to him. It was a force of habit. Your body was just naturally drawn to him like a magnet. You scoot back a bit with a sheepish smile and a nervous laugh. He sets his phone down and shakes his head. He reaches over, looping an arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest.
"You know better than to run from me, love," he smirks.
Him and that stupid smirk! It was like it was permanently etched onto his stupidly smug face. The stupidly smug face that you fell in love with—the stupidly smug face you're trying so hard not to kiss
"Don't call me that," you hesitantly whisper.
"But you get to call me Hyuk?" He retaliated. He rests his forehead against yours while you hold eye contact.
He had a point; it wasn't fair that you got to call him your favorite nickname when you two were together, but he couldn't. It just felt too intimate to you, though.
"Should I call you Haechan?" You start, but he cuts you off.
"Can we just stay like this? Just for tonight, can you let me pretend that you're mine again?" he whispers, a breath away from your face. He didn't mind you calling him Hyuck; it was the only proof he had left that you still loved him. If you called him Haechan, he had nothing else to hold onto.
"I don't think that's a good idea." You hesitate.
"Please, you owe me, remember? Let me just hold you like this just for tonight." Haechan is often one to make jokes, but at this moment he is as serious as ever.
You sigh in defeat. Owing Haechan a favor is never good, but this was a pretty tame request for him. You just didn't know the effect it might have on your heart later. As usual, you ignore the possible consequences and agree. He leans in and pecks the corner of your mouth, holding his lips there for a second longer than necessary.
"Hey, you said we would only cuddle!" You reprimanded him.
"Let me have just a little more, ok? I promise I'll be good to you from now on. No more loud music," he bargains.
You should have known he would have been content with just cuddling. Haechan was always an affectionate lover, and he always needed to feel all of you to be satisfied. His pecks trail from your cheek to your jaw, and when they reach your neck, they blossom into kisses. At this point, you're breathless and squirming. His arm that was around your waist unwraps itself, so he can use his hand to massage your lower back. His slow, passionate kisses turn wet and sloppy when he grabs your ass. He can't help the groan that escapes his mouth at the feeling. At this point, you wanted to feel more of him. You knew he wouldn't touch you like you wanted, though, Not until you asked. Even when he was the one who started it, he couldn't help but have you begging for him.
He pushes your shirt up past your chest as His kisses move lower, leaving hickeys in his wake. You try to hold on; you really do, but when he ventures even lower to leave kisses near your navel and then to the tops of your thighs, you crack.
"Hyuck… just a little more."
"Just a little more?" He repeats your words back to you. You bite your lip and nod your head. "You want me to touch you more, pretty? I thought we were only going to cuddle?" He questions spreading your legs so he can lay between them.
"Just a little farther; it's ok if we go just a little bit farther," you relent.
"If that's what my princess wants," Haechan pulls your shorts swiftly from your core and settles back down. He looks into your eyes once more to make sure it was really okay, and when you let out a moan and buck your hips into his face, he knows you can't bear to wait any longer. Haechan licks a fat stripe from the heat of your core to your clit and showers it in gentle kisses.
"Please... more," you cry.
"So greedy!" Haechan tsks at you and finally sucks your clit into his mouth.
He can't hold himself back anymore and begins to eat you out like he really means it, wrapping his arms around your thighs to hold you down. He's making a mess as he spits onto your pussy, adding to the slickness. Before you know it, he's fucking his tongue deep into you, moaning at the taste. Your chest is heaving at this point, and you can't help but grab his hair and try to fuck his face. You roll your hips deep into his mouth, practically riding his nose as it bumps against you, clit at your movements.
He pulls away, and before you can even moan out a complaint, he's bringing two fingers to your entrance and slowly penetrates you with them, holding eye contact as he hums a sound of approval at how well you take his fingers. He licks his lips clean as he fucks his fingers into you faster. You pull his hair again, but this time you're pulling him up so you can kiss him. It's the first real kiss you've shared since the breakup, and it's all teeth and tongue as he's knuckle-deep in your pussy. You moan into his mouth as he sucks on your tongue. He pulls away to look at you with heavy lids; a single string of saliva connects you and breaks when he licks his lips.
"You gonna let me fuck you, baby?"
"Hyuck, we really shouldn't be doing this," you slur.
"Just the tip, I promise."
"You also promised just cuddles."
"We are cuddling, extreme cuddling, '' he jests. You've already crossed the line with him, so what's the harm in indulging a little more?
"Just the tip," you say with a nod, pulling him into another messy kiss.
You pull off his shirt and push his boxers down past his hips, and he takes them off the rest of the way. His length slaps against his stomach in all of its glory, and you know you're fucked. There's no way you'll be satisfied with just the tip. You haven't had him in so long, and he's so long. He always made sure to fuck you so that you’d never forget the feeling. He filled you up just right and knew how to make sure you felt every inch of him. He guides his tip to your entrance and coats it in your slick, letting it trail up and down your slit, prodding your entrance. He lazily thrusts forward, making his length slip up and nudging you clit. He did this a few more times, knowing it would drive you up a wall. You wrap your legs around his waist, threatening to pull him closer.
"Just the tip, baby, remember?" He reminds you that you're the one who suggested this stupid idea in the first place.
You shoot him a glare, and before you can choose the right words to verbally abuse him, he's sliding in. He keeps his work and just fucks his tip into you, using his hand to act as a barrier so he couldn't slip father into you. He pushes in, and when he pulls out, he smacks the head of his cock against your pussy creating a wet sound from how drenched you are. He repeats it a couple of times before fucking his tip back into you.
You notice that the longer he fucks you, the lower his hand slides down his cock as he sneakily fucks more into you with each thrust. You don't even think he notices because, when you look up at him, his lip is caught between his teeth. He looks like he's concentrating so hard to not slip more. After a few more thrusts, his hand is gone completely, and he's fucking deep into you.
"You liar," you smile. You knew he couldn't do it from the beginning, but you admire his perseverance. You reward him by clamping your walls down on him. He lets out a shaky whine and takes a deep breath.
"I'm sorry," and the look he gives you genuinely reflects remorse, but not because of what he did but because of what he's about to do.
He roughly unhooks your legs from around his waist and manhandles you onto your arms and knees just to shove you down onto your chest so that your ass is the only thing stuck in the air. He reenters swiftly and fucks you from behind. He's snapping his hips deep into you; it's almost too much. You reach your hand back to rest on his hips, and he grabs onto it and pins it to your lower back.
"Come on love, I know you can take it; fuck me like you mean it," he groans.
He's almost as fucked out as you are; no one else can ever make him feel like you do. He struggles to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his head when you fuck back into him with a vengeance. He told you to fuck him, so you do. You throw your hips back into him so hard that he stops moving. He's trying his hardest to pull himself together, but all he can do is take it. Mouth agape as he moans at the feeling. You think you might have gotten the upper hand on him, but then he pulls out of you and flips you back onto your back, throwing a leg over his shoulder as he starts hitting deep again. At this point, he's gone. He's completely pussy drunk, and you can't see a thought behind his eyes as he drills into you.
 "Hyuck.. Don't forget to pull out," you moan, barely able to catch your breath.
If he can hear you, he sure doesn't show it; his pace doesn't let up, and he's pressing a hand against your lower stomach. He can feel himself inside of you and can only moan. Any previous worries you had are completely wiped from your mind as you tighten around him and release all over his cock. He fucks you through it, and when you meet his eyes again, you know he's about to cum. His brows are furrowed, and he's biting his lip so hard that you're surprised he hasn't drawn blood.
"Hyuck. Pull. out," you try to say sternly, but it comes out as more of a whine as the overstimulation sets in. Haechan shakes his head as his grip on your waist tightens. He can't think straight when you feel this good. At this point, he can't even control his moans as they spill out. He's close, and you do the only thing you can think of to snap him out of it.
You slapped him across the face.
You think you may have brought him back down to earth, but when he lets out a high-pitched moan, you know you're screwed, and not in a fun way. His hips stutter, and he's releasing deep inside you, hiding his face in the crock of your neck as he tries to ride out his high. Every weak thrust is accompanied by a pained moan from him as he continues to fuck you.
"No more hyuck!" You scold him and push on his shoulders. You pull his head back by his hair so he can meet your eyes. "Pull out," you glare.
He knows he messed up and finally pulls out. When he rolls over next to you, you slap and pinch his arms and chest.
"You're unbelievable! Just the tip, my ass!" You yell at him, and he's trying to roll away from you on the bed, but you follow him, continuing your assault.
"I'm sorry I got too carried away; I couldn't resist. Don't worry, I'll buy you a plan B first thing in the morning," he says with a flinch each time you attack him. You finally settle down with a huff and lay facing away from him.
"I know your memory sucks, but remember this was a one-time thing; after tonight we go back to normal," you mumble.
Haechan scoots closer to you and lays a soft kiss on your shoulder. Well, then let me savor this moment," he says in a whisper that you almost don't catch. He pulls you back into his chest and warps you up in his body, and you let him. As much as you want to be mad at him, Haechan is like a giant teddy bear; you always feel safe in his arms, and soon you're fast asleep.
:・゚✧:・.☽˚。・゚✧:・.::・゚✧:・.☽˚。・
The next morning, Haechan stays true to his word and goes to grab you a plan B as you wait for your landlord to give you a new key. When he returns, he finds his apartment empty. He assumes you were able to get into yours. He knocks on your door, and when you answer, he hands you the pills. You don't spare him a look or even a thank-you as you shut the door in his face again. Haechan may suck at keeping his word, but you don’t.
You were set on making sure you didn't cross the line with him ever again. During the week, he begins to notice your colder than usual behavior, so he goes back on his word about the loud music as well. You don't want to see him, so you try texting him instead. When you ask for him to turn the music down, this time he ignores you and leaves you on read. 
It's like you two are back at square one. You should be happy, but a part of you kind of hates the fact that you two have become bickering neighbors once again, this time worse than the last. You know Haechan is only acting like this because he's hurt. You confirm this when you sometimes catch him in the breezeway returning home from work, but he doesn't try to make small talk anymore; he looks more tired as the days progress. One day, you can't ignore the bags under his eyes any longer. You know you're the one who made him like this.
He returned home at the same time as you; you were always scheduled on the closing shift again, so when you arrive, Haechan is unlocking his door. You find the courage to speak.
"Hey, are you okay?" you ask, concern filling your voice.
"I'm fine," he sneers, pushing his door open. Before he can enter, grab his arm.
I'm worried about you. Have you been getting enough sleep?" You ask, trying to meet his eyes, but he's avoiding eye contact. He snatches his arm away from you.
"Since when do you care what happens to me?! I thought you wanted me to stay away. Fuck. off," he snaps and slams his door in your face.
You know to let him cool off when he gets like this, so you decide to leave him be. Maybe you can catch him in a better mood tomorrow and ask. Before you can enter your apartment, you hear a loud thud from Haechan's apartment. You think maybe he dropped something, but the absolute silence that follows has you worried. You don't hear any footsteps or movement coming from the apartment, so you go to knock.
Hyuck, I'm sorry I upset you, but is everything okay in there?" You wait for a response, but nothing comes.
"Hyuck?.....if you're ok, please answer me." You twist the doorknob to his apartment and notice he left it unlocked.
When you open the door, you find him lying on the floor. His eyes were shut tight, and his chest was heaving. You rush over to his side to check on him. When you touch his skin, he's sweating heavily and burning up. He clearly has a fever.
Hyuck, I know you don't feel good, but we've got to get you to a hospital," you say, trying to help him to his feet.
"No, I'll be fine; I just need to lay down," he says, stumbling as he stands.
You help him to his room and lay him down. You help take off his shoes and change him into something more comfortable to sleep in other than his usual ripped skinny jeans and leather jacket. Once you get him settled in bed, you grab a towel and chill it in cool water so you can help cool him down. He's been up for half the night, tossing and turning from the uncomfortable heat of the fever. Eventually, he's able to cool down and enter a deep sleep. You stay by his side all night and call into work once morning comes. When Haechan wakes up the next morning, he finds you asleep by his side and feels terrible. He knows how much you hate missing work and feels bad that he was the reason why. He gently shakes you awake. Once you're up, you immediately reach for his forehead. He's still a bit too warm for your liking, so you hop out of bed.
"Where are you going?" he asks.
"I'm gonna grab you some soup, and you're still running hot, so I'm going to grab you some ice." Before you can get too far, he grabs your arm.
"Thank you for staying with me, but I promise I can take care of myself."
"I've already called out of work today; you might as well let me take care of you," you counter.
He lets your arm go and falls back into the sheets. In truth, he still felt terrible; he was having a hard time even trying to sit up. He's been feeling a little under the weather for a few days now, but he's been able to persevere through it. His body must have just given up on him at this point. When you return, you have an ice pack and some chicken soup. You helped him sit up and fed him since he still seemed really weak. After you made sure he ate, you tucked him back into bed and set the towel on his head. You turned on his TV and put it at a low volume so as not to give him a headache, and you binge-watched a few shows as he fell back asleep.
It's around 9 p.m., and he's still heavily sleeping when you're bored of the shows you've been watching on Netflix. You decide to straighten up around the house a bit. Haechan isn't particularly dirty, but he hasn't had the time to properly clean up in a while due to his schedule. He has band rehearsals during the day and is booked for gigs at night. When he's not with the band, he's out partying. He only ever returns in the dead of night.
When you two were together, though, Haechan made an effort to make more time for you. He showed up late to rehearsals, stopped partying, and even turned down a few well-paying gigs to spend more time with you. You, on the other hand, refused to call off work. You were constantly working overtime, and you made no effort to make time for him. He tried really hard to be understanding; he was happy with the time he got to spend with you; he knew you had a lot of bills to pay, and he did too. At one point, he realized it wasn't enough; if you truly loved him, you would want to make time for him and make an effort. All he wanted was to know that you loved him, so he asked you to take more time off so you guys could go on more dates. When you agreed, he was content. You were finally making time for him; you must love him. He thought everything was going well until you broke up with him. You told him he was a distraction from work and that you didn't have the time for a relationship at the moment. He was heartbroken. He tries to take it back; he tells you that it's ok that you don't see each other, but you insist that he should be with someone who has more time for him. You said it wasn't fair to him. That's how your relationship became what it was.
You think you let him go out of love; he thinks you gave up on him.
You finish cleaning around 11 p.m. and go next door to your place to grab some more of your stuff. You grab your skin care essentials, body wash, and a new pair of clothes. You set up your things in his bathroom as you shower. It was bringing back memories of when you used to be together. You were always at his place and kept a lot of your stuff there. You shower, and when you get out, you start your skin care routine. While looking in the mirror, you can't help but reminisce about the old memories.
You finish up and return to his side. You checked his temperature again with the thermometer you got from your apartment. He was able to kill his fever. You figure his body is just catching up on all the missed sleep from the past couple of days. You don't want to disturb him, so you exit the room and lay on his couch. You stare at the ceiling.
How did it become like this? Since the last time you saw him, feelings that you previously thought had died have come back full force. That's why you were so bent on avoiding him at all costs. You were already confused, and being near him would only muddle your feelings more. You didn’t want to listen to your heart; you wanted to listen to logic. No matter how much you missed him, it would not work out. You couldn't afford to think with your heart; you didn't want to hurt him again, but it seemed the more you pushed him away, the harder he fell for you.
What was that saying? Absence makes the heart fonder. Well, whatever it was, it had you running laps in your mind, trying to escape thoughts of him. All you could think about was Haechan. If you're being honest, your job wasn't the only reason you pushed Haechan away. You were a little scared; you had never cared for someone as much as you did for Haechan. Your other relationships always ended before things got too serious, and you were afraid that this one would end up like the others. You were afraid of being hurt by him. You didn't want him to leave you, so you left first. You hurt him before he could get the chance to hurt you. You were a coward, and it seemed like you would stay that way forever.
You don't know when you fell asleep, but you wake up to the smell of coffee and breakfast. You sit up and feel the weight of a cover as it pools around your waist at your sudden movements. You don't remember grabbing one last night.
"Hyuck?" You call out, half asleep.
"Sorry for all the trouble I caused you, but I'm feeling better now," he reassures you as he sets a plate of food down on the coffee table in front of you.
You smile at him gently and reach for the food. "I'm glad to hear that." Silence falls between the two of you as you both eat. Once you're done, you clean up the mess you left behind and turn to him once again. "Well, I should get going," you say awkwardly.
"You can stay if you want," He says hopefully.
"No, I think I've already overstayed my welcome."
"You're always welcome."
"Hyuck…please" 
He runs his hand across his face, trying to collect his emotions, and says, "You know what? Do whatever you want; I don't care anymore." Even though this is what you wanted, it still hurts to hear him say it. You quietly leave and return home.
:・゚✧:・.☽˚。・゚✧:・.::・゚✧:・.☽˚。・
Tonight, you're going out for the first time in a long time. Your friend Jungwoo was finally able to convince you to take a night off. He even offers to pay you for any hours that you miss. You reject his offer to pay you, but you do join him for a night out. After all this time, you deserve to relax a little. You can't just work until you die.
You and Jungwoo go clubbing, and you're having a great time. Haechan was right; you have to stop working so much and live a little. If you have to budget a little harder or even move into a smaller apartment, you think it's worth it if you get to spend less time at work and more time around the people you actually care about. You're sitting at the bar with Jungwoo when you hear a commotion behind you. At the back of the club was a stage. The club had strippers that put on shows some nights; tonight must have been one of those nights. That's what you think when you see people crowding around the stage, but when you see a band set up on the stage, you think that's highly unlikely.
"Oh god, please no," you silently pray.
Jungwoo turns once he realizes you're not paying attention to the story he's telling you. He follows your line of sight to the stage. "A band must be playing tonight," he says, taking a sip from his drink. Hey, didn't your ex used to... oh my god," he says as he finally catches up to speed with the situation. "You don't think..." he asks, turning to you again.
You pray and pray that it's not who you think it is when you see five silhouettes walk onto the dark stage. The band finally finishes setting up in the dark, and when the lights illuminate them in all their glory, you can't help but curse every god in existence.
Of course, it was The Neos.
"It's fucking him," you say, turning to Jungwoo with wide eyes.
Look, don't worry about him tonight; we came here to have fun, and seeing your hot ex isn't going to change that."
"Jungwoo!" 
"I'm sorry, look at him!"
look at him? You could barely take your eyes off of him! His messy hair is a little longer than the last time you saw him. His eyes were adorned with his signature black eyeliner, and he was wearing simple black ripped skinny jeans and a baggy t-shirt. His fingers were littered with rings, and he was wearing his favorite bracelet. When you looked closely, you spotted a silver lip piercing sitting pretty against his plump, heart-shaped lips.
"Wanna get closer?" Jungwoo suggests you can only nod your head, still distracted by your ex’s new look.
You get closer to the stage, and he looks even more delectable up close. You're so terrible. You pushed him away all those times just to imagine pulling him closer to you under different circumstances. This was your first time ever hearing him play with his band. He’s played you a few songs before at home, but you never made time to actually see him play at a gig. He was amazing; he was truly born to be on stage.
As the band played, the crowd got bigger and more lively, jumping to the music. You almost forgot you were at a club and not a concert. Reality comes crashing back down on you when you lock eyes with Haechan. You immediately stop dancing, and it's like the entire world slows down. The flashing strobe lights and the bodies around you all move in slow motion as you're locked into this moment with Haechan. You can't hear anything; all you can see is Haechan. His eyes don't leave you for a few more moments, but when they finally do, it's like the spell is broken.
Everything begins to move again, and you can hear the music blaring, but you're still rooted to your spot on the floor. Jungwoo turns to look at you to ask if you're okay, and that's when you notice the band has wrapped up their last song. The crowd is starting to thin out when you see him jump down from the stage with the bass still hanging from his shoulders. When Jungwoo doesn't get a response from you, he turns to see where your eyes are looking.
"Oh shit he's coming this way." Jungwoo tries to be a good friend and pull you away, but it's too late.
"Hey, can I talk to you for a bit?" Haechan says it loud enough to be heard over the music of the club that resumed playing after their set.
"I don't think..." Jungwoo starts before looking at you for reassurance.
"It's ok, Woo, I'll just be a minute, ok?" You say this as you finally manage to pull yourself together.
"Are you sure?" he hesitates.
"Positive, I'll text you when I'm ready, ok?" You say this before following Haechan to the back of the club. He's guiding you through the back halls of the club when you two finally reach the spare room the band was using to store their extra equipment. Everyone was already packing up.
"Hey, we're heading out—oh, who's this?" the one with the pink hair says.
"This is my ex," Haechan somewhat introduces you.
‘Hello ex. I’m Jaemin," he flirts with a smile.
"Cut it out Jaem, before he punches you again," said a smaller male with messy brown hair.
"I'm just messing around Renjun. We all know he still loves his ex; he won't shut up about her." Jaemin laughs,adjusting a gig bag over his shoulder.
"Im going to fucking kill you." Before Haechan can make a move forward, another male finally speaks up; this one was probably the buffest next to Jaemin. He grabs a hold of Haechan's arm.
Guys, cut it out. Mark is already waiting for us in the van. Come on before he leaves us again."
"Jen's right, let's go. They obviously want to be alone," the one they called Renjun said.
The boys clear out the room supplies in tow, leaving the room almost as barren as when they arrived, save for you two still occupying the space. Haechin heaves a big sigh, his cheeks still tinted pink with embarrassment. "I'm sorry about them; they just like to tease me," he tries to cover up.
You nod, trying to help him change the subject. "You guys were amazing tonight. I knew you were good at playing, but hearing you with a band was incredible," you gush.
Haechan can't fight the huge smile that takes over his face. "That means a lot." An awkward silence falls between you two as you run out of things to say.
"So you wanted to talk to me?" You rock back and forth on your heels nervously.
"Honestly, I didn't really have anything to say; I just wanted to see you again."
It's been a hot minute since the last time you saw Haechan. Lately, you have been completely missing him in the parking lot and in the breezeway. He stopped playing loud music completely, and if he was bringing home girls, you couldn't hear them anymore. It's almost like the apartment next to you is empty.
Well, here I am," you say with an awkward smile.
A few beats pass, and he finally speaks again. "I see you came out with Jungwoo. What? Are you two together now?" He says it a bit bitterly.
"Oh god, Hyuck, don't start; you know I don't do relationships."
"So you're fucking him?"
"I didn't say that!"
Well, what is it then? He can convince you to take off work for a night out, but I couldn't even get you to spare me a few hours of your time?"
"Hyuck, you know that's not true! Look, I didn't come here to argue, ok?" You yell exasperatedly.
"Come home with me," he states. It's not really a question.
"I'm out with someone right now." You look away from him.
He stands in front of you now, "still too busy to fit me into your schedule?"
You remain silent.
"Too busy for me, but never too busy to take my cock like a fucking slut," he sneers.
"Go to hell," you say, pushing him away from you.
"What. Am I wrong? The only time you spent with me was when we were fucking. Let's be real." The usual warmth isn't behind his eyes anymore; they are almost as cold and steely as the lip ring that adorns his lip.
You're such a fucking jerk; I broke up with you because I knew I couldn't provide you with the attention you so desperately crave all the time. I kept it real with you from the beginning! I could have strung you along, but I ended it before it got too serious." At this point, you're fuming.
Oh, yeah, right! I'm sick of hearing your excuses; you knew your schedule from the moment you said yes. You knew what you were signing up for. Just admit it. You're scared of commitment; you were scared of it getting too serious."
You feel called out because he was 100% right. "Fuck you, Haechan."
"I bet you would love to, princess," he spits back.
You both stare at each other, chests heaving from anger. "Tell him you're not going back with him."
"You can't seriously still be on tha-" Before you can finish your sentence, his lips are locked on yours.
One moment you're screaming at each other; the next you're ripping each other's clothes off. There was no way this was healthy, but you didn't care because Haechan was your favorite drug. He's pushing you back into the vanity in the corner of the room and lifting you onto the tabletop. You spread your legs, allowing him room in between. You can feel his hard length through the tight fabric of his pants. You feel The cool metal of his lip piercing when you kiss him, and you can't help but imagine how it would feel on other, more intimate parts of your body. You grind against the front of his pants, trying to feel more of him as you breathe him in like he's the only air you need, until your lungs are screaming at you for air.
"You're no good for me, but I can't get enough," he mumbles between breaths.
Your fingers find purchase in his already messy hair as you use it to pull him towards you once again. You two continue to make out when your phone starts ringing in your back pocket. You try to ignore it, but Haechan can’t. He knows who's probably calling. He pulls away from you, biting into your bottom lip and tugging it with him until he lets go.
"Answer it," he demands. You try to pull him back into you, but he shrugs you off. "Answer it or I will," he threatens.
You want to test him, but the way he's looking at you makes you want to give him everything he's ever wished for. You decide to be his good girl tonight. You slip your phone from your back pocket and answer it.
"You good? It's getting late; we need to leave soon," Jungwoo voices through the phone speaker.
You hesitate with your response, trying to find your voice.
"Hellooo… Don't make me come find you." Jungwoo says you can hear him readjust his phone against his ear as he whispers sorry to someone, probably pushing through bodies looking around for you.
"Im good, Woo; go ahead and head home without me; I'm going to catch a ride with Hyuck.'' As you speak to Jungwoo on the other line, Haechan is peppering kisses up and down your neck, and you can't help but let out a few quiet, breathless moans.
"oh-OHH!" Jungwoo exclaims. "You're nasty; have fun and stay safe, bye!" Jungwoo hands up the phone upon realization of what's going on.
You drop your phone on the counter and continue where you left off. See, I can be good for you," you say.
"Only when you want something," he punctuates as he uses his teeth to snip at your neck.
Haechan knows you guys only have so much time before security comes around and makes sure they have vacated the room. They only have it for the duration of the time they booked the gig. He pulls you off the vanity and turns you around to face it. He flips up your skirt and pulls the neckline of your shirt down past your boobs, keeping you partially covered in case you have to cover up quickly. You met the eyes of your reflection, and you were able to see for the first time how fucked out you already looked. He hasn't even properly touched you, and you're already dripping down your thighs.
"Look at how pretty you are, angel. I want you to look at yourself as you take my cock. Don't you dare look away." Haechan lays a sweet kiss on the top of your head, and you know that's his promise to you that he's going to absolutely ruin you.
He makes quick work of his studded belt and pushes his jeans down past his waist. He pulls your panties to the side and quickly works in a finger. He stretches you until you seem ready enough to take him, so he frees himself completely and spits down onto his tip. He mixes his saliva with your juices as he strokes his tip through your wet folds. He doesn't hold back any longer and thrusts into you. You keep your promise and don't take your eyes off of your reflection. You can see the way your mouth drops at the way he fucks you deep, and you watch as your brows furrow up when he hits a particular spot inside you.
"Right there! Please don't stop!" You cry.
Haechan leans over your back and rests his chin on your shoulder, looking at you through the mirror. His movements slow as he uses precision to repeatedly bully the spot inside you that's making you see stars.
"Do you feel that love? No one else knows you like I know you; who else is gonna make you feel like this, huh, baby? Tell me." His eyes don't leave your face, and when you don't respond, he lands a harsh smack against one of your ass cheeks. "You can't fucking hear me? I said answer me!" he yells as he picks up his pace. He wraps his hand around your neck, and you can feel the cool metal of his rings against your skin.
 "No one! Only you can make me feel this good. Only you can fuck me like this. Fuck me until I can't remember my name," you rasp.
"That's my good girl," he whispers in your ear.
He tugs you back into him with the hold he has on your neck. Your back meets his chest as he fucks into you at a new angle. You can't hold on any longer, so you let go. You come all over his cock, and when he doesn't slow down for even a second, you feel your second high quickly approaching.
Hyuck, please, I can't take another one; I'll make a mess," you plead. You know this next one is going to be messy. You can feel the pressure building up in your stomach.
That's ok, baby; I want to drown in you; let go for me." And for the second time that night, you come again, but this time you're squirting, and it's dripping all onto the ground below you. "You're so fucking nasty," he says to you as he pushes you to your knees on the wet ground. A hand goes to your hair, and you can feel the sting as Haechan tugs your head back so that you can meet his eyes.
"Open your mouth, slut."
You do as you're told and stick your tongue out for him. He moans at the visual and slowly lets a trail of spit fall from his mouth into your awaiting one. When you swallow his spit, he can't help but be proud: "That's my good girl."
He guides his length into your mouth, and you choke on him before you know it. Mascara running down your face, spit covering your lips This is what Haechan wanted you to see: you made him a mess on the inside, but he was always going to ruin you on the outside. It's a shame you couldn't see it. He fucks your face, and you take it like a champ. You look up at him, and all you can see is infatuation. That's when you realize it. He was never going to let you go. He was going to keep forcing himself into your life, whether you liked it or not, because he was disgustingly in love with you. Even as you kneel on the floor of a dingy club, covered in your own release, choking on his dick, his eyes are filled with love. His brows furrowed, and he let out a long moan as he released down your throat. He's still feeling a little mean, so he pinches your nose and makes you gag. He holds your head down and fucks deep into your throat a few more times before letting you go.
Did he love you? Yes.
Was he above making you suffer a little bit? No.
You catch your breath as you look up at him. Before a word can be spoken between the two of you,a knock comes at the door. Security announces themselves and tries to open the door but finds it locked. You and Hyuck look at each other in fear as you scramble to dress yourselves properly.
"One second, we were still cleaning up," He calls to the door.
"You guys were supposed to be gone 20 minutes ago." The security guards' annoyed voice can be heard through the door.
"Sorry, dude, we will be right out."
"You guys have 5 minutes!" security yells before walking away.
You fix your hair in the mirror, and Haechan tries his best to clean up the mess on the floor with whatever he can find. "Come on, let's go home," he says as he grabs your hand as he guides you through the back halls of the club on to the main floor and to his car.
In a matter of 15 minutes, you're back at your shared apartment complex. You're making your way up the stairs when Haechan offers to properly clean you up. You had left some of your skin care products over at his place a while ago anyway, so you agree. He runs a bath for the two of you, and afterwards, while you remove your makeup, you also help him remove his eyeliner. He's sitting on the counter when you gently wipe his eye makeup away. The silence between you is no longer awkward but a comforting one. You decide to break the silence first.
"I thought about what you said before, and you're right; I was making excuses. I was afraid you would break my heart, so I decided to hurt you first." You switch to taking off the makeup on his other eye. "I'm sorry for that, but I realize now that you would never hurt me; no matter how hard I push you away, you will never leave me alone."
"You make me sound like a nuisance," he said, glaring playfully at you.
"Because you are," you peck him softly on the lips, "but I've decided I don't want to live hurting the people I love anymore. I want to try again with you. Will you accept me?"
Haechan has been waiting forever to hear those words again. "You love me?"
Yes, I love you, idiot. Is that all you heard?" you joke.
"I love you too," he responds with a kiss. "Do you promise not to run from me again?" He looks at you, and you can see the vulnerability in his eyes.
"I promise, I'll never leave your side again". 
You finish removing his makeup, and you two set off to bed. This time, when you go to sleep in his arms, you don't dread the morning after; you know this is not a mistake. When the morning comes, you're going to be a new person and not the one that gives up on Haechan again and again; this time, you will love to the fullest.
1K notes · View notes