You need to know if you weren't watching that Redoons owned up to the dispenser mine that killed you and Loony f**kin EXECUTED him for it so you were avenged. Also y'all hit the goal yaaayyy jingle jams!
Oh I saw, and I couldn’t be more thankful to Loony, that’s cold Campfire Crew justice right there!!!
After a high-energy performance, world-renowned rock star Semi Eita seeks solace in the company of a fan who captivates him. What started as a reckless game of desire soon blurs into something neither can define.
pairing - eita semi x reader
genre - erotica/smut
rating - 18+ MINORS DNI
chapter word count - 2.8k
content warning - alcohol, explicit sexual content, explicit language, slight dirty talk, oral (giving and receiving), fingering, gagging, hair pulling, choking, degradation, praise, dom/sub elements, overstimulation, rough sex, possessive sex, unprotected sex
Authors Note - This fanfic is inspired by the phenomenal and breathtaking fanart of timeskip Semi. Artist is @freaka_loonyz on tiktok, pinterest, twitter, and instagram!
The roar of the crowd was deafening, a wave of voices screaming Semi Eita’s name, hands reaching out as if they could touch the god they worshipped. He stood at the edge of the stage, sweat glistening under the floodlights, his fingers gripping the neck of his guitar as he let the final note of the set ring out. His voice was hoarse from the hours of singing, but the adrenaline pumping through his veins made him feel invincible.
Another sold-out show. Another night of feeding off the energy of thousands. But as the final bow was taken, and the band disappeared backstage, the high that came from performing began its inevitable fade. The noise, the lights, the endless devotion—it was everything he had worked for, yet it left an ache in his chest he couldn’t quite shake.
He needed something else to keep the high going
He needed you.
No matter the city, no matter how many people screamed his name, you were the one who consumed his thoughts.
He didn’t know when it had started—when you had gone from just another fan in the crowd to the only one he searched for after every show. Maybe it was the way your eyes had found him in the middle of the chaos—locked onto him during that concert, eyes alight with admiration but steady—as if you saw him, really saw him, beyond the flashing lights and deafening screams.
You were a fan, sure. You knew his songs, sang them under your breath, felt the lyrics in your bones the way only someone who had lived through them could. You showed up to his shows and stood in the sea of bodies that swayed and screamed for him, but you never reached for him like he was something untouchable. You didn’t shove your way to the barricade, didn’t beg for his attention, didn’t throw yourself at him the way others did, desperate to be a passing thrill. And yet, somehow, you’d gotten under his skin in a way no one else had.
It had started with a look. A fleeting moment, really—one he shouldn’t have remembered. But during that concert, between the blinding lights and the pulse of the bass, he had seen you. Noticed how, even in a crowd of thousands, you were the only one who wasn’t losing yourself to the frenzy. You were singing, yeah, but there was something grounded about you, something real. And when you met his eyes, just for a second, it felt like the world had shrunk down to that single moment, as if you had peeled back the layers of the performance and seen him.
He hadn’t expected to see you again. But then you were there, at another show. And another. Always in the crowd, never pushing for more. He told himself it was a coincidence—plenty of fans followed the tour—but he started searching for you anyway. Started lingering at the edge of the stage, hoping to find those familiar eyes in the blur of faces.
And then, one night, it happened. A chance meeting after a show—he wasn’t even supposed to be there, just killing time outside the venue when he saw you. Close enough to talk to, close enough to do something about the way you had been haunting his thoughts.
“You’re here again,” he had said, barely thinking.
You had just shrugged, lips curving into a smirk. “And you noticed.”
That was all it took. The beginning of something reckless, something undefined.
He told himself it was nothing. Just curiosity. Just another fan. But then came the late-night conversations, the drinks after shows, the way you never asked for anything more than the moment itself. And before he knew it, he was looking for you after every set, craving your presence like a drug.
Maybe it was because you never asked for more. Never begged for a photo or a memory to clutch onto. Maybe it was because you listened—really listened—to his music like it meant something more than just a performance. Maybe it was because, in a world that worshipped him, you were the only one who made him feel like a person instead of a god.
And that… drove him fucking insane.
It was why, even now, with the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, his thoughts weren’t on the roaring crowd shouting encore. They were on you. Always on you
Slipping past the frenzy of staff and crew, Semi made his way to his dressing room, his pulse thrumming with anticipation. He knew exactly where to find you.
You were already waiting when he entered, lounging on the couch like temptation itself. A drink in hand, a teasing smile adorned your lips, and that glint in your eyes that promised trouble. You weren’t dressed to blend in—you never were. But it wasn’t just the way your clothes clung to you, or how your bare skin invited his touch. It was the confidence you carried, the ease with which you met his gaze, unafraid, unwavering. You weren’t just another fan. You never had been. And that’s what made you dangerous.
“Took you long enough,” you murmured, swirling the glass in your hand, voice sultry, knowing.
He exhaled slowly, locking the door behind him as his eyes dragged over you, taking in every deliberate detail. “Got caught up.”
He knew you, knew the way your body fit against his, the little sounds you made when he got too close, the way you never quite let him have you completely. It was a game, a dangerous one, and neither of you wanted to give an inch. Every touch, every glance, every unspoken word was a battle for control, a silent dare to see who would break first. But tonight, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to keep playing or if he wanted to end it entirely—one way or another.
You stood, moving toward him with the same quiet confidence that had drawn him to you from the start. The strap of your dress slipped down your shoulder as you reached for him, your fingers ghosting over his jaw, down his throat, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.
“Good show tonight,” you whispered, your nails grazing his chest, setting sparks across his skin. “You looked good out there. Always do.”
“I always am,” he breathed, hands finding your waist, pulling you in. The scent of you, the warmth of your skin, the way you never rushed—just let the tension build, let him unravel bit by bit.
There were no promises between you, no expectations. Just this. The stolen moments, the heat, the chase. Yet every time he had you, it felt like he was losing something too—like whatever this was between you wasn’t nearly as simple as either of you pretended.
Your lips brushed against his ear, your breath hot, teasing. “You need me, don’t you?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The way his hands tightened on your hips, the way his mouth found yours—hungry, desperate, searching—was enough. You had gotten under his skin, and he wasn’t sure if he ever wanted you to leave.
In a flash, he spun you around, your back hitting the door with a soft thud. His hands were on you immediately, pushing your dress up, his lips crashing into yours with an insatiable hunger. You laughed, breathless and teasing, as his lips left a trail of fire down your neck. “You’re insatiable.”
And you love it," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. His hands slid down your body, gripping your thighs, feeling you shudder beneath his touch.
With ease, he lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the vanity, the cool surface of it pressing against your back. His fingers were relentless, pushing your dress higher, determined to peel away every layer that stood between them.
He kissed you again, but this time it was deeper—rougher like he couldn’t get enough. His tongue swept into your mouth, the cold steel of his piercing brushing against the warmth of your tongue He could taste the hint of alcohol on your breath.
You moaned, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. He nipped at your bottom lip before trailing his mouth along your jaw, down your throat, leaving a path of hot, open-mouthed kisses.
"Fuck, I want you," he growled, gripping your thighs and yanking you to the edge of the vanity. "Wanted you all goddamn night."
His teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your neck, marking you as his. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs. "Tell me who you belong to."
You whimpered, tilting your head to give him better access. "Yours. I'm yours, Eita."
"Fuck," he groaned, hands roaming over your body with possessive intent. He squeezed your breasts roughly, thumbs brushing over your nipples through the thin fabric of your dress. "This body is mine. These tits, this pussy...all mine to use however I want."
His words sent a thrill through you, your core clenching with need. You loved it when he said things like that, he made you feel like his sole purpose was your pleasure. His fingers found the edge of your panties. He tugged them down, tossing them aside.
"I need you," he whispered against your lips, his voice rough with desire. "I need to taste you."
He sank to his knees, his hands gripping your hips as he looked up at you with those dark, hungry eyes. lowly, teasingly, he ran his tongue along the inside of your thigh, the cool metal of his piercing sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You shivered, tangling your fingers in his hair as he inched closer and closer to your aching core.
"Please," you whimpered, trying to push his head forward, but he held firm.
"Not yet," he murmured, his breath hot against your folds. "I want to savor you."
He continued his torturous exploration, nipping and sucking at the tender flesh until you were writhing against him, desperate for more. Finally, when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he parted your labia with his thumbs and flicked his tongue over your clit, the cool metal sending a sharp, intoxicating contrast against your heat.
You bucked at the sensation, a moan tearing from your throat. He chuckled, the sound vibrating through you as he leaned in to run his tongue along your slit. Your head fell back at the feel of his hot mouth on you, his skillful tongue delving deep before flicking against your clit.
"Fuck," you panted, hands flying to his hair, holding him in place, as he ate you out like a man starved.
He groaned against you, the sound sending vibrations through your core as he worked you higher and higher. He sucked your clit between his lips, alternating between gentle pulls and sharp flicks of his tongue. Two fingers plunged deep inside you, curling to stroke your sweet spot. Your thighs trembled around his head, gripping him tightly as he worked you over.
"Come on my face," he demanded, fingers pumping faster as he licked and sucked mercilessly. "I want to taste you when you let go."
He doubled his efforts, sucking hard on your clit as he fingered you roughly. Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, your body convulsing as you screamed your pleasure. He didn't let up, continuing to lap at your cunt until you were a boneless, whimpering mess collapsing back against the vanity
But he wasn't done with you yet. Not by a long shot.
He rose to his feet, a wicked grin on his face, "You're fucking delicious," he purred, licking his lips. "I could eat this pretty pussy all night.
"Yes," you breathed, still coming down from the high. "Please..."
He smirked, shucking off his jeans and briefs, letting his hard cock spring free.
"On your knees," he commanded, fisting his length. "Time to return the favor."You didn't hesitate, sliding off the vanity and onto your knees before him. You took him into your mouth without preamble, relishing the taste of his pre-cum on your tongue.
He groaned, one hand fisting in your hair as he guided your head."Fuck, just like that, baby," he grunted, hips rocking forward to meet your movements. "Take it all. Fucking choke on my cock."
You gagged as he hit the back of your throat, tears springing to your eyes. But you loved it, loved the way he used your mouth for his pleasure. You hollowed your cheeks and sucked hard, swirling your tongue around the head.
After a few moments, he pulled you off his cock with a wet pop. Before you could protest, he yanked you up and spun you around, bending you over the vanity. You braced your hands against the mirror, watching as he lined himself up and drove forward with a groan.
"Fuck, you're so tight," his hips rolled slowly as he gave you time to acclimate. "You feel incredible."
As he picked up the pace, his thrusts became harder, more forceful, and his grip on your hair tightened. He yanked your head back, exposing your throat to his hungry mouth. He sucked and bit at the sensitive skin, leaving a trail of bruises and marks.
"Shit, look at you," he panted, voice rough with lust. "Taking my cock so fucking well. Such a good little slut, letting me use your tight pussy however I want."
He punctuated his words with a particularly hard thrust, grinding his pelvis against your ass. His free hand moved from your hip to your throat, wrapping around it loosely.
"You like that, don't you?" he growled, fingers tightening slightly. "Like being used like a fuck toy. Being reminded of what a dirty slut you are for my cock."
"Yes," you gasped, pushing back into his touch. "I'm your fucking slut. Use me, ruin me, make me yours."
He smirked, fingers tightening further as he picked up the pace, fucking you harder, deeper. "That's right, baby. Fucking take it. Scream for me."
His hand on your throat squeezed harder as his hips snapped forward, burying his cock to the hilt inside you. Your vision swam, the edges darkening as oxygen became scarce. Just as you thought you might pass out, he released his grip, allowing you to gulp in a lungful of air.
"Shit, you look so fucking hot like this," he panted, fingers stroking your neck almost tenderly. "Choked out on my cock, cunt dripping all over the floor. I'm gonna fuck you so hard you'll be feeling it for days."
With a sudden movement, he pulled out of you completely, leaving you whimpering and aching at the abrupt absence of his throbbing cock inside you. Your slick walls clenched around nothing, desperate to be filled again.
But before you could even catch your breath, he hauled you up suddenly, spinning you around and pinning you against the mirror. The cold surface against your overheated skin was a shock, sending a shiver down your spine. He captured your lips in a bruising kiss before pulling back, eyes dark with possessiveness.
"I'm gonna fuck you senseless," he growled, one hand gripping your hip while the other guided his cock back to your entrance. "Gonna make you watch as I claim every inch of this perfect body. You're mine, understand?"
"Yes," you whimpered, nails scratching down his back. "Yours, all yours. Please, fuck me. Ruin me."
He grinned wolfishly before slamming forward, driving into you with wild abandon. The mirror rattled behind you with each powerful thrust, your reflection a debauched picture of pleasure and submission. His hand found your throat again, squeezing harder this time as he pounded into you relentlessly.
"Take it," he snarled, fingers digging into your skin. "Take my fucking cock like the filthy slut you are."
The combination of the choking, the hard fucking, and the voyeuristic thrill of watching yourself be used so thoroughly sent you hurtling toward another earth-shattering orgasm. Your overstimulation heightened every sensation, your body feeling like it was on the edge of combusting. You came with a scream, eyes rolling back as your cunt spasmed around him. He followed seconds later, with a roar, painting your insides with his hot seed.
He collapsed against you, both of you panting harshly as you came down from the high. After a moment, he pressed a soft kiss to your temple, fingers stroking through your hair almost tenderly.
"Good girl," he murmured, voice low and satisfied. "You did so well, taking my cock like that. Such a perfect little slut for me."
All you could do was hum along in agreement, too fucked out to form any words.
As the haze of lust began to clear, both of you lay there, breaths heavy, bodies still intertwined. Semi leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. His voice was low, rough with desire, barely above a whisper. “You're something else, something rare.”
There was something in the way he said it that made you feel both exposed and cherished, You realized you were more than just a fleeting escape. You were someone valuable, someone he couldn’t let go of.
