#bus tours deals

[hoponhopoffbustourtickets]

Grab the hop-on-hop-off bus Black Friday deals, and get your bus tours at a discounted rate.

[kazoosandfannypacks]

This holiday season, I am BEGGING you guys to be aware of and kind to the guests at your house who are afraid of /uncomfortable around / allergic to animals.

[smimon]

What if I just report my adventure here lol

09:00 Kaufland Warszawa - Wola: yes oddlygood, no Käärijä 🙁

Surprise Bonus Joker Out - the market is right next to Progresja!

Stay tuned for more

[titsthedamnseason]

i’m laughing so hard i’m crying

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

"The cows or the cantaloupes", huh Fred?

[quaranmine]

I think my dad never developmentally progressed past the age of a toddler who throws a tantrum every time he doesn't get what he wants because he can't handle a SINGLE thing happening in a non-ideal way without throwing a fit

Unfortunately, existing on planet earth is just a series of things happening non-ideal ways,

[raviranjansblog]

Affordable Travel: Cheap Tickets to Thailand and International Trip Packages

Going on an international trip is not as costly as you might think. Thailand has so much to offer with its culture, beauty, and food, and is still affordable for those wanting to travel on a budget. First of all it is important to get a cheap ticket to Thailand and that is the first step toward an amazing trip. If one is to choose a package of different international trips, he or she can even improve the trip’s quality while minimizing costs.

Visit Here : https://telescope.ac/raviranjan/affordable-travel-cheap-tickets-to-thailand-and-international-trip-packages

[vapekingg]

You and Eddie have this running joke.

Or at least it started as a joke.

Once Corroded Coffin started to take off, it was hard to not get jealous. All those pretty girls throwing themselves at him at every show. They'd wait at the merch table or near the back door where the band smokes their cigarettes. Even with you hanging off of his arm, they were relentless.

So Eddie started finding you before they could find him.

You liked being in the crowd during their sets. Some of the guys' girlfriends would sit sidestage, some of them would stay in the green room, but you preferred the energy of the show. Eddie always made sure you were front row, center stage. That way he could always find you.

He made a big deal out of it, too. Pointing you out every night during their last song and handing you a VIP laminate that would get you backstage. To all of these new faces, you were just another face in the crowd. It became a thing amongst their fans. Who would be the lucky girl tonight?

But it was always you.

Because you're his favorite groupie, aren't you?

That's what Corroded Coffin's security team started calling you. Jokingly, of course. But it's carried over.

"You know why you're my favorite fucking groupie?" Eddie hisses close to your face.

You can't respond. He knows you can't respond. If it weren't for both of his hands wrapped around your throat, then because he's got your legs folded up against your chest with your ankles next to his ears. Eddie's thrusts are relentless, his cock punching into your guts with brutality, and you can't make a fucking sound.

"Because you can fucking take it," he continues, punctuating the last two words with particularly rough assaults.

Your face is getting warm from the blood pooling in your head. Your brain is pounding in your temples with each stroke of his thick cock against your slick inner walls. You need to scream, but the wail trapped in your lungs sits right below Eddie's fists at the base of your throat.

"Oh, you have something to say? Didn't lose your voice screaming my name all night?" His voice is beginning to sound far off beneath the sound of your own heart thumping in your ears. "Fuck, you feel good. Squeezing my cock, baby. Don't worry, I'm gonna let you sing."

Your throat is released and Eddie's fingers slide beneath your head, weaving into your hair. A rush of air enters your lungs, and then you hear your own foul sounds.

The sound of begging, of pleading, of crying for him to never stop, to give you more.

"Please, Eddie. Please, harder, harder, harder!" Are the only words you can remember.

And you expect Eddie to mock you. He usually does, and it's usually the final nail in your coffin. What you don't expect is the tightening of his ringed fingers against your roots. He holds your head in place and spits on your face, silencing you for only a moment.

"You know this is when you're the prettiest?" Eddie says between gritted teeth.

With the blood flowing back to your brain, you begin to hear everything again. His little grunts and moans hidden by heavy breathing, the slapping of his sweat slick skin against yours, the creaking of his tour bus bunk bed. It all comes together like some sort of symphony of filth.

"When you're all fucked out. Makeup fucked, sweaty, my spit dripping down your face. You'll be even prettier with my cum leaking out of this pussy."

Your back arches into him at the mention of Eddie filling you up. He doesn't do it often. You're careful most of the time. But on special occasions... the risk is worth it.

Eddie laughs at your response, his cock pumping into your cunt faster.

"That what you want? Me to fill you up?" He asks mockingly.

That knot in your abdomen begins to tighten. Eddie's hips rut against your sensitive clit, stroking it in time with each thrust.

"Then everyone will know you're my favorite groupie, huh?"

Eddie's hips hit your core, his cock buried to the hilt, and he grinds his waist against your clit. Stars dot your vision. Every atom in your body shivers on the edge of oblivion.

"Won't they?"

[jesuistrestriste]

patrick and art who never got into tennis and instead formed an indie band in the early 2000s.

art sings and plays the guitar while patrick plays the drums.

they don’t exactly ‘blow up’, but they do eventually gain a pretty decent following. and with this following came groupies.

they took a handful of them on their small state-wide tour; kissing and touching and humping and fucking each other every night after the shows — fueled by alcohol and weed and a little bit of arrogance.

one of their little groupies happened to be you.

you’re their favorite, actually.

you can take everything they give, and you can deal it right back when they need some sense slapped into them. sometimes literally.

pat likes to pull down your panties at the back of the tour bus and buck into you rhythmically from behind. his fingers will curl into your waist before he sneaks a hand down the front of your stomach and then lower to seek your sweet spot. rubbing it with fast circles of his thumb. his mouth’ll find your neck, and before you know it he’ll be sucking and biting like he’s starved of the taste of your body (even though you sucked him off before they even got on stage). he smells like sweat and peach vodka. “who’s my biggest fan, huh? thaaat’s it… louder, baby… louder—! aagh-! fuck, fuck fuck-“

art’s a lot more sensual and slow. he likes to go down on you, spreading open your legs as he eases you down into a chair in the green room of the show’s venue. licking a glassy stripe up your folds before he smushes his face into your wetness and shakes his head from side to side, pushing his tongue into your hole as he moans. he likes when you grab a fistful of his messy blonde hair and force his head back so he has to look up at you. it’s even better when you let him rut against your foot. he’s a disaster personified; blue eyes rolled back, hands shaking on your thighs, and the scent of his almost-sleazy cologne wafting off of him in waves as he worships you. “mmmnn, god, i could stay here forever… come in my mouth, please… i wanna feel you come on my tongue…”

best band ever.

[drchucktingle]

the string

something happens when you join any artform where you connect to the past in invisible string . there is a tradition behind you and the second you pick up that pen or paintbrush or guitar you are connected to the thread and THAT alone is enough. every other success is a bonus

sometimes that thread is late nights on a tour bus cross country. sometimes it is a sold old galley opening. sometimes it is a book deal. but they are just the ones that get the most attention they are far from the most important

that thread also connects to the first garage band practice, to buying a paint set on a whim, to the novel in your head that refuses to trot out. these moments connect you to your heroes and your villains. to the way of legends.

and these quiet moments are SO IMPORTANT. never believe the bumps in the road have severed your tether. buckaroo that IS THE TETHER. you are part of a beautiful tradition and that alone bends timelines. congrats bud. its great to be here with you along the string

[barrackspredator]

Lead Guitarist!Price who writes the lyrics and takes the lead on most of the interviews.

Rhythm Guitarist!Gaz who swoons all the ladies with his voice and charming personality.

Bassist!Ghost who writes the music sheets and can’t be bothered to attend interviews, or deal with fans.

Drummer!Soap who isn’t trusted to speak during interviews and likes to get messy with haters in the crowd.

Groupie!Reader who spends a lot of time getting passed around in the tour bus.

[deadsetobsessions]

Tim Drake, Danny’s human identity in this universe, is a boy trapped in an empty manor with absentee parents a low socialization.

Danny Phantom, on the other hand, is Gotham City himself. He could fly, he could interact, he could be the heart of his city like he needs to be. From the lowest of the lows to the highest of the highs, Danny loved the people that were his. Well, most of them. Child molesters often found themselves crossing paths with a vengeful, mostly recovered Robin.

He is the city, he is Gotham. And with his status came more changes, ones he welcomes more readily that the changes that came with his title of Ghost King.

Being a city couldn’t change him as much as it would have, had he gained the title before becoming King. But now, his shadows are dark, curling around his shoulders and curling away what little light he allowed into his city. His skin, having once glittered green with stars and galaxies and black holes, clouds over just a bit. It gives him a misty quality. His hands become sharper, stronger. Gargoyle-like. He wonders what he looked like to Batman, holding his broken son cradled safely to himself. He’s crueler, now, but that’s easily balanced by his years of being a vigilante himself.

He loves these changes. They are loved in a way changing into Dead Danny Phantom and Ghost King Danny Phantom will never be loved. And even though his human features are different in a way he never had to deal with as Danny Fenton, because it was his body that he died in, Danny finds himself enjoying the distinction. And he enjoys when they combine, because in the end, they’re just facets of who he is, now.

Gotham flies through his city, and enjoys it as a whole. A bigger picture.

Tim Drake walks through his city, and enjoys it as an individual. The smaller picture.

Being Gotham reminds him of what he had to protect as a whole. A duty he gladly bears.

Being Tim reminds him of the people he’s meant to help, the stories he doesn’t get as Danny. A connection he gladly encouraged.

Gotham is power. He is duty, he is fierce love. But for the good of the whole.

Tim is kindness. He is choice, he is gentle devotion. But for the good of the individual.

He’s both.

Danny. Danny Phantom.

Phantom glides through the smog.

The ebb and flow of people is his life blood, the thrumming of life and death and fear and hate and love and everything the city is sung through him and Danny sung back with everything he had. Danny is the gargoyles perched high, watching everything. He’s the stone curves of the sewers, sheltering his rats and mutant murderous crocodile man. The is no love comparable to a city’s mutant rats and their sewers. Ancients, he loves his city.

It would be nice, Danny thinks wryly, if they’d love me enough to stop blowing up buildings.

The sting of destruction to his city would hurt much more, had he not also been King. Regardless, every time there’s an explosion or general large scale property damage, he feels a stab of mild pain. Catching sight of his Bats, Danny stays invisible while following them. He wills the shadows to cradle them, to hide them further. He softens the stone, the mortar, the steel, just a hint. Their footsteps, silent and aided by the city himself. The wind steal away the noise of the grappling guns, so when Danny’s favorite vigilante duo (a fascination he shared with original text!Tim) broke into the building, not a single soul aside them are aware of the intrusion.

Batman skulks across the support beams, Robin following with an anticipatory grin. Danny floats, invisible, undetectable, besides them.

“C’mon!” A goon grunts beneath them. Danny tilts his head. A… Dresden Aberthy. Wow. That’s one hell of a name.

“Hurry it up! Boss said Batman’s going to get here soon!” Another goon- Robbert- said, waving around a gun like a moron at the terrified hostages. Danny could tell half of them were part of a tour bus, mostly because the other half were his Gothamites, bored and unfairly used to this kind of thing. The tourists… He’s fond of them, having kept track of their progress through his city. He doesn’t care for intruders on his haunt, but tourists like to appreciate his city and its doubtlessly Sam-approved architecture. Most of them. Rude tourists get pigeon shit on their heads and food stolen by his lovely rats.

He’ll have to make sure none of the bullets hit the tourists. He likes this group, even if he has enough awareness to question their sanity in choosing his city to sightsee. He knows it’s a mess. It’s Danny’s mess though, so whatever.

——

All said and done, Batman whoops ass and Robin rescues the hostages just fine. Danny grins proudly as Robin knees a guy in the crotch and punches a lady’s throat in order to incapacitate them.

After they tied the goons up, and interrogated them for Two Face’s plans- explode a quarter of Gotham to distract the Bats from his diabolical plan to murder half of Gotham’s judges and lawyers that have been going after him and his people- the duo retreats to the rooftop.

“Didja think Gotham saw that?”

Batman goes to reply, but Danny beats him to it, coming back to visibility with a wind touched laugh.

“I did, little Robin.” Danny smiles, fangs and shadows on display as his vigilantes startles and whips around to face him. “You did well.”

Robin- Jason!- gapes at him.

“I see you’ve recovered, little bird.”

“Gotham! Oh. Wow. People always said Gotham was a lady, but you’re a guy!”

“It was a Lady,” Danny confirmed. “It’s complicated, little bird.”

“So, you’re really… you’re really Gotham? The city?”

Danny looks at Robin with the weight of the city behind his gaze.

“I think you know the answer to that. But yes, I am your city.”

“Constantine,” Batman starts. “He said that city spirits only appear in times of grave danger.”

There is deference in his words. Batman is Batman for Gotham, after all. Danny just wishes he could… well, be friendlier with his knights. May this is a good place to start.

Are you in danger? What threats do we need to handle? How can I help? How can I protect? Please, let me help.

His Knight always felt more than he ever says. Danny smiles.

“Was Robin’s wellbeing not in grave danger?” Danny floats closer. “I am your city. You protect me, it is only right that I protect you, no?”

“Thank you for saving me, Gotham!” Robin’s grin is a touch more sincere than usual.

“Of course, Robin. You are loved.”

“Is there… a reason you’ve shown yourself today? Gotham.”

Danny chuckles, understanding the awkwardness that was Batman addressing someone with deference.

“I wanted to tell you that you did well tonight. Those tourists weren’t harmed in the slightest. Well done.” Danny gave Robin a playful but sincere thumbs up.

“They weren’t a match for us!”

“No, they weren’t.” Danny ruffles Robin’s hair, noticing how still he grew at it. “Robin was too fast for them. That maneuver at the end was masterfully executed.”

Batman clears his throat and Danny resists the urge to laugh at him. It would be mean.

“Thank you, for the… praise.”

Fuck it. He’s played well behaved for too long.

“Yes. I read in child rearing books that positive reinforcement is necessary for healthy development. You did well, Batman.”

Despite trolling Batman- and somehow holding a straight (and hopefully wise face)- he meant every word.

Allowing a small smile to slip at Robin’s chortles and Batman’s quiet sputtering, Danny moves on.

“Where is Nightwing, Batman?”

“He’s still on a mission...”

“If it is awkward to refer to me as Gotham, Phantom will do.”

Batman dips his head once. “In space, with the Teen Titans.”

“I see. Please tell him I request his presence,” Danny barely waits for Batman’s oddly acquiescing agreement before summoning a pigeon.

“Follow her,” Danny instructs the duo. “She’ll lead you to the places with explosives. I will guide you through her, to Harvey Dent.”

Danny winces as another explosion rings out.

“Your face is cracking!” Robin exclaimed, worried. He surged forward to stare at the hairline cracks appearing on Danny’s jaw.

“That would be the explosives. Any damage to the city will be shown on me.”

“Well take care of it.” Batman growled, shoulders straightening once more into an imposing symbol.

“Yeah!”

“I know you will. Stay safe.” Danny disappears, spreading his awareness and directing his Birds to the explosives that will go off the fastest.

Batman and Robin share a glance and leaps off the roof, ready to save their city once more.

——

Tim Drake wanders around Crime Alley, and meets a blonde nine year old trying to throw hands at her absentee Riddler knockoff of a dad. He dodges the brick en route to his face and kicks the guy’s knees out.

“You okay?”

The girl blinks. She stares at her dad, groaning on the dirty street of crime alley, and flicks her gaze back up to Tim, who waits casually.

“Yep. I’m Stephanie. We’re gonna be friends now!”

She grins at him, a baby tooth missing, and Danny melts.

“Heck yeah. Tim!” He introduces himself for the first time in a long time.

Maybe with Stephanie around, he’ll finally use the name Tim? Maybe he’ll get used to it, finally!

[steddieas-shegoes]

we share that really

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt ‘band politics’

rated t | 905 words | no cw | tags: famous corroded coffin, reunion tour, future fic, steddie dads, everyone has a family and is happy

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Their label said it was too soon to do a reunion tour. They were only in their early 40s and had only been officially “broken up” for ten years.

But they were all in the right place: married, children who were old enough to come on tour but still young enough to be excited about it, and writing music that meant more to them than anything they’d done before.

Rumors had swirled for years after they announced their break up. None of them saw it as a breakup, more an early retirement that let them focus on building their lives. Fans and media alike hadn’t stopped coming up with other reasons for it: Gareth had been in love with Eddie for years and finally said something which caused friction, Jeff’s wife had threatened to divorce him if he didn’t take time off, Frankie had a drinking problem that was spreading like a viral disease.

None of it was even close to true.

The one and only reason for all of them was that they wanted to focus on their families for a while.

They stayed in touch, almost more than when they were on tour together. Jeff and Gareth lived in the same neighborhood, and Frankie bought an RV so he could come visit as often as he wanted. Eddie had traveled for a very extended honeymoon with Steve for nearly a year before finally settling an hour away, halfway between his favorite people and Steve’s favorite person.

They still played together at least once a month, a full set and any new stuff someone brought with them.

So when they all agreed it was time to come back and record a new album and do a tour, it wasn’t really a reunion so much as an excuse to be even closer for a while.

The label was thrilled, willing to give everyone their own tour bus so their families could come with them for the US part of the tour.

One thing none of them were prepared for was the media following the announcement.

“Is it true that you only just reconciled after years of legal battles about rights to songs?” A journalist from Rolling Stone asked.

Gareth snorted. “Not even a little, dude. We’ve been best friends this entire time.”

“So there was never any issue with Eddie being the most famous?”

Everyone looked over at Eddie, who was making faces at his youngest daughter at the side of the stage. Jeff leaned into his mic and gestured over to him.

“None of us have ever had a problem with him being the face of the band. We’re here to make music and perform, not fight over who gets to be in the center of pictures,” he said. “Plus, none of us would wanna deal with what he deals with on a daily basis. He’s not that interesting, I promise.”

Everyone laughed as Eddie turned back to the crowd with a smile. “I’m super boring. Just ask my kids.”

"So you don't mind that he gets creative control?" Another reporter asked.

They all shared looks with each other before Eddie leaned forward into his microphone to answer.

"I don't have creative control. We all share it. We all share everything. That's the point of a band like ours. Sometimes I know what sounds best for a guitar solo, sometimes Jeff does. Sometimes Gareth writes a chorus that people will sing along to, sometimes Frankie does. We've never had any of that lead person bullshit no matter what the media wants to show," Eddie drummed once on the table. "Are there any questions about the upcoming album and tour or is everyone here gonna keep asking about shit that isn't true?"

"Language!" Steve yelled from the side of the room.

Everyone laughed and Eddie waved him off.

They got more questions about the album and the tour and it finally seemed like everyone was done asking about band politics until the very end.

"So will Eddie still be the lead guy for the reunion?" Someone from the back asked.

Eddie banged his head against the table.

"Alright, thanks everyone! We'll see you on tour!" Gareth yelled as he pulled Eddie's arm so they could all exit the stage.

"They want us to hate each other so bad," Frankie shook his head.

"Look at this face," Gareth said as he grabbed Eddie's jaw in one hand, squeezing his cheeks until his lips pouted out. "Who could hate this face?"

"Shit!" A small voice exclaimed from behind them.

Eddie turned to see his youngest daughter smiling up at him and Steve standing next to her with his hands on his hips.

"You're right, sweetie. Daddy's in deep shit," Eddie leaned in to kiss Steve's cheek. "And he is so sorry for breaking the no bad words rule today. He really is."

"Our fearless leader appears to be absolutely fucked," Jeff said as he started to walk towards his wife and kids.

Gareth trailed behind him in search of his own family.

Frankie punched Eddie's shoulder. "Good luck, big guy."

"Everyone hates me, call the media and tell them they were right," Eddie pouts.

Steve rolls his eyes and picks up their daughter, walking away.

Eddie turns to his twins. "Well, you guys don't care if I say shit."

"You said worse while getting ready this morning."

"And I'll say worse again! Let's get out of here."

[gotta-winwin]

𓆩🖤𓆪 ... falling in love through songs pt.1

⭐ starring: vernon

💌 genre: fluff, light angst

💬 preview: you really wished someone would've told you that the rockstar you'd be photographing for on his tour was Hansol from school. Yes, that Hansol. Your ex-boyfriend Hansol.

tw/cw: rockstar!vernon x photographer!reader, second chance romance, exes to lovers, sworn enemies to lovers, forced proximity, a cheeky joshua, lots of banter, allusions to sex, weed + alcohol

🪽fic rating: pg/16+

☁�� masterlist & a/n: here i am once again with a vernon fic, but this time to kick off our 500 followers event! this one is based on the song heart out by the 1975, one especially close to my own heart. i know i said the release date was the 20th...but inspiration struck and i have zero patience when posting fics. enjoy!

p.s thank you so much to @lovetaroandtaemin and @chugging-antiseptic-dye for beta reading !

this is a part of my 500 followers event

“Hear me out.” Joshua spread his arms as if to hug the air in front of him. “The two of us, on tour, in a tour bus, a fat paycheck.” 

You pursued your lips, biting back a smile. His proposition had sounded tempting even over the phone, where he had offered you a photography job on the tour he was managing, a spot on the bus and front row seats to every show. 

“It’ll be fun!” He continued, driving the nail in further. “The guy I manage- he’s a chill dude, great rockstar. You’d get along great.” 

“What did you say his name was again?” You asked, looking over the contract he had given you one more time. 

“Vernon.” Joshua nudged your arm, pushing you to sign. “C’mon. It’ll be like the old days again, bandwagoning across the country in the name of making art.” He placed the last words in air quotations as he smiled. “And the paycheck doesn’t hurt.”

“Not at all.” It was a ridiculous amount of money. “When do we start?”

Clapping his hands, Joshua looked joyous to have you along. “First concert’s tomorrow, right here in New York. It starts at 8, but come earlier so you can meet the band first. I’ll introduce you to Vernon- oh, he’s going to be so psyched to see you.” 

As much as you loved his enthusiasm, the jitters of having such a high profile job was catching up to you, once again reminding you just how high the stakes were. You needed this job, for the money, for the recognition it’d give you - you needed it all. 

Flashing Joshua a bright smile, you nodded, looking more confident than you felt. “Great. I’ll go home, pack my things, and see you tomorrow!”

“Alright, sunshine.” Joshua chuckled as you struggled to put your coat back on, your childhood nickname rolling off his tongue like second nature. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“This was not the fucking deal, Josh.” 

You couldn’t believe your eyes as you stared, open-mouthed at the boy in front of you, decked out in silver chains, ripped jeans and sporting a backwards baseball cap. He all but screamed rockstar, yet you keep circling back to the fact that-

“Hansol?” 

-the fact that you knew him. Very well, in fact.

“Y/N?” 

He seemed just as astonished to see you, eyes darting suspiciously towards Joshua. “This, is my tour photographer?” 

“This?” You cried out indignantly, turning to Joshua as well. “Did it just not cross your mind to mention that your rockstar happened to be Hansol from school? You lied to me!” 

“Well-” Joshua put his hands up in defence, the large grin on his face betraying how much he was enjoying the moment. “Surprise?” 

“Joshua!” Both you and Vernon yelled out, anger escaping as the two of you contemplated whether or not throttling Joshua would be worth the consequences.

“I am not staying on a tour bus with her.” Vernon pointed an accusatory finger your way. “Especially not for four months. I’d rather throw myself off a cliff.” 

“I’d rather chop off my own finger and eat it.” You hissed back, equally disgusted at the idea of sharing your space with him. 

“Contract’s signed.” Joshua shrugged, his eyes dancing with mirth as he watched the two of you glare daggers at one another. “Jeez. It’s like the air in here could kill or something.”

“I do not want to breathe the same air as him.” You stabbed a finger at Vernon.

“I hope you choke on it and die.” He punctuated the last word with fervor. 

“Ditto.” 

Joshua let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m starting to regret this. Were you guys always this...stabby?” 

“Yes.” Chan poked his head out from the green room. “Ever since they broke up they’ve been literal bitches. Whatever happened to hey, Chan, we’ll still be friends! This won’t break the friend group apart!” He frowned, disapprovement evident on his face. Time still hadn’t erased the betrayal he had felt when the two of you broke up, killing their friend group with suffocating silence. 

“Whatever.” Vernon muttered, turning away, shoving his in-ears back into his ears. “Stay away from me.” 

“With the utmost pleasure.” 

You had to begrudgingly admit that Vernon looked good doing his thing onstage. Vernon. It was still odd to even call him that, when you had known him your whole life as Hansol. 

Raising your camera, you followed his every movement onstage, staring at him through the viewfinder. He looked almost iridescent under the lights, shining alongside his jewel-encrusted microphone as he rapped, commanding the stage. 

“He’s doing well.” Chan slid up behind you, cradling a bundle of wires in his arms. Your entire high school friend group seemed to have conjoined once again, following Vernon on his tour as various supporting crew members. You supposed all the credit went to Joshua, who had been the only one to keep in contact with everyone else. 

You hummed, eyes still trained on Vernon. 

“Remember when we used to make fun of this? Vernon onstage?” Chan shook his head in mild disbelief. 

You could remember it as clear as yesterday, leaning against Hansol in the school courtyard as your group laughed, thoroughly amused by whatever rap he had performed that day. “Everyone told him it was impossible.”

“Except for you.” Chan looked at you with his eyebrows raised. 

“Yeah.” It was surreal to see him thrive in a life you had basically built with him. You were at his first audition, every coffeehouse show, sitting by him in each shabby and rented studio. “I never thought he’d get this big, though.” 

The sheer size of the crowd had been overwhelming at first. You were greeted by the venue’s cheers when you had entered, taken aback by the crowd and by how many fans Hansol had gained. There were fans waving banners, glow sticks, and various trinkets dedicated to him as they cheered, already excited despite the main act still being backstage. It was a bitter pill to swallow: the idea that he was so beloved. 

“Maybe you should forgive him.” 

You whipped your head to look at Chan, insulted by his suggestion. “I’m not forgiving him.”

“He’s changed!” Chan protested. “He doesn’t actually hate you, he’s just- being stupid.” 

Rolling your eyes, you recalled all the times Hansol had hurt you. “I am not forgiving him.” You repeated, more firmly than the last. 

“Y/N.” Chan’s eyes pleaded with you. You knew the youngest member of your group still believed in fairy tale endings, but this was harsh reality, and Chan needed to learn that. 

“He broke up with me, Chan.” You turned back to the camera, ending the conversation. “I’m not forgiving him.” 

“Hey, man.” Joshua moved Vernon’s headphones off his one ear, catching his attention. “Haven’t you tried…just talking to Y/N?” 

Vernon let out a deep sigh as he turned to face him, rolling his shoulders back as he mulled the idea over. “What’s the point? We just end up fighting either way.”

“Yeah, but try actually talking to her. Nicely.” 

Vernon’s eyebrows furrowed. “How do you do that?”

“Boy.” Joshua pushed Vernon’s forehead with a finger, shaking his head disapprovingly. “How did you even start dating her in the first place? Be nice. Ask questions. Sound interested. It’s not that difficult, Non.”

Vernon had to begrudgingly admit that a part of him did want to speak with you without a fight. He was longing to experience the kind of conversations you had shared with him before, splitting open your heart and baring your soul to one another without fear of judgement. Conversations long forgotten by now.

“I’ll talk to her.” Vernon promised Joshua, moving his headphones back and returning to his laptop. “Don’t worry.”

Joshua nodded, glancing over at Chan, who shot him a knowing look, pointing his chin towards the bunk beds, where you were sitting, blissfully unaware of the conversation that had just taken place. 

“Hey.”

You looked up to find Vernon staring down at you from his spot on the bunk ladder, hands clutching the rails as he balanced himself on the third rung. 

You greeted him with a noncommittal grunt, hoping he’d leave you alone. The amount of tour photos still to be edited on your laptop was overwhelming, and you were in no mood to fight him today.

“Whatcha doing?” Vernon followed up with a question, rocking back and forth on the spot, a lazy drawl in his voice. 

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his sudden interest. “Editing your photos.”

He leaned down for a better look. “They look good.” 

“No.” You sighed, your shoulders sagging a bit at your words. “The colors are off, and the saturation- I can’t get the lighting to behave.” Waving vaguely around the photo where his face was, you sighed again. “It’s not doing you any justice.”

“Are you saying I look good in person?”

Yes. But you’d never admit that. Coughing as you tried to save face, you shot him a heavy side eye. “No, I’m saying it makes you look uglier than you actually are.” 

“You still fucked this ugly person.” 

“A stupid teenage mistake I’ll never make again.”

He fixed you with a withering stare. 

“Are you done now?” You asked, moving your eyes back on your work. “You should leave, unless you want me to release these with you looking ugly.”

Vernon hopped off the ladder, muttering something about why he even bothered trying in the first place.

“Hey.” Joshua invaded your space next, poking his head into your bunk. “I saw you talking to Vernon.” A meddling smile crossed his face when you swore under your breath.

“Nothing special, Josh.” You pushed his head away from your laptop. “Stop trying to stir the pot.”

Ignoring your statement, he continued. “How was it?”

“The conversation? Bland.” You grimaced. “Vernon? Same old, same old.” 

Joshua frowned. “Meaning…what exactly?” 

“Same inflated ego, same dumb face.” You looked up from your laptop once again. “Look. I really need to get this done. So-”

“I got it.” Joshua squeezed your hand before climbing back down, an amused smile on his face the entire time. “Just play nice, alright?”

Rolling your eyes at his comment, you returned to stare at Vernon’s picture, hating how perfect the universe had allowed him to be.

The air was biting and cold as you stepped off the tour bus for the first time in eight hours. Placing down your bags to stretch your legs, you contemplated whether or not it was really worth it to spend a night off the tour bus if it meant rooming with Vernon. 

Both Joshua and Chan had insisted it was the only sleeping arrangement that would make sense. 

“I am not sleeping on the couch.” Vernon announced as you both stepped into the hotel room. 

Throwing your bags on the floor, you let out a guffaw. “You’ve got another thing coming if you think I’m sleeping on the couch.”

“I don’t care where you sleep as long as it’s not next to me. Also, I’m showering first.” 

You looked up from your bags to see him sporting a shit-eating grin, already making his way to the bathroom and locking the door behind him.

“Bitch!” You yelled after him, growing more annoyed when you heard him laugh behind the door. 

“How original.” He called back, the sound of the shower turning on reaching your ears. “Don’t try and peek.”

You scoffed, setting your things on the countertop. “I’m not stupid enough to blind myself.”

“Bitch.”

“Who’s unoriginal now?” 

Cringe pooled into your stomach as you replayed the immature spat you just had with him.

Joshua’s words from the previous night echoed in your mind as you listened to the sounds of Vernon showering, mindlessly unpacking your bags for the night. You’re both adults now. Just talk it out. Play nice. 

Perhaps he had a point about the two of you being adults now. 

“Y/N!” 

The sound of your name coming from his mouth jolted you out of your sudden epiphany. Turning, you spotted a dripping arm poking out from the bathroom, the door opened to a crack. 

“I forgot to grab my clothes.” Vernon mumbled, his ears pink as he poked his head out, eyes pleading with you. “Can you-”

Play nice. Fighting everything in you to not laugh, you nodded, moving over to his suitcase to pull out his clothes, pointedly avoiding eye contact as you handed it to him. 

A snort escaped you as the bathroom door slammed shut. 

A thoroughly embarrassed Vernon stepped out a few minutes later, his hair dripping water onto the carpet, his eyes cast downwards as he made his way to the work desk in the corner, setting up his laptop and the various pieces of equipment he used to produce.

“I can hear you laughing.” He mumbled as he sat down.

Your shoulders shook with the effort to keep quiet. “I’m not laughing.” 

“I can see your shoulders shaking.”

Pulling a chair to sit a few ways away from him, you watched as he began to work, the sight bringing back old memories you thought you had forgotten. Watching him produce late into the night as you laid in bed, the dimmed lights of his laptop keeping you company. 

“What are you working on?” Your voice was soft, quiet, gentle. An olive branch.

Vernon moved his headphones to the side, glancing at you before returning attention to his multicolored launchpad. “Music.” He restrained himself from adding the duh he knew was unnecessary. 

“New song?” You leaned in for a closer look. 

Vernon’s lips twitched, knowing full well you couldn’t understand what you were looking at. “Old one. Wrote it a couple months before we graduated high school.”

You hummed. “Can I hear it?” 

He seemed surprised at your request, his fingers pausing as they hovered over his mouse. “Sure.” 

With trembling hands, he removed his headphones to place them on you, adjusting them until they fit snugly over your ears. 

You got something to say? Why don't you speak it out loud Instead of living in your head? It's always the same Why don't you take your heart out Instead of living in your head? It's just you and I tonight Why don't you figure my heart out? It's just you and I tonight Why don't you figure my heart out?

Vernon’s voice dripped like liquid gold into your ears as you sat and listened, entranced by the melody and taken aback by how nostalgic the music was. This was the Vernon you had known. None of the current rockstar bravado you had seen him display onstage. The Vernon singing in your ears was the same Vernon you had fallen in love with, baggy jeans, unkempt hair, a knack for telling bad jokes. This was Hansol. 

The music ended as you faced him, catching him staring at you already. 

Vernon had always loved watching you absorb his music. 

“Heart out is special.” He mumbled, knowing the words wouldn’t be heard by you. “Wrote it about you.”

The idea had sparked within him one night, after realizing that maybe he just wasn’t a man of many words. How he longed for you to just take apart his heart and understand him that way. 

“Hansol-” You started, taking off the headphones and placing them on the desk in front of you. “We need to talk.”

He nodded. “I-” I still love you. The words caught in his throat. 

“I’ve been thinking about what Joshua said. About us being adults now.” The words spilled from your mouth as you finally bit the bullet. “He’s right. We’ve been bickering like children when we should just talk it out. Talk it out, and then we can both move on. Leave the past in the past. Walk separate ways.”

There was something about the way he was looking at you that made your heart putter to a stop. “But I don’t want to walk separate ways.”

“What?”

His eyes met yours as he repeated himself. “I don’t want to walk separate ways. I want to walk together.”

Rage coursed through you as you stared at him, appalled by how simple he was making it out to be. “You can’t say that.” You blurted out, standing up and pointing a finger at him. “You have no right to say that.”

“Y/N-”

“No.” You cut him off, your tone hard, feeling your eyes well up with sudden tears. “You have no right to say that. Not when you were the one who was cruel.” 

“I wasn’t-” He protested once more, only to be cut off by you again.

“You broke up with me.” You reminded him, your voice holding a steely edge. “Over text. And then you blocked me with no explanation. You made me suffer for months before we graduated- and then you just left!” A stunned laugh escaped you as you relieved your past together. “You have no right to ask for more.” 

“Y/N, please.” Vernon grabbed your hands, clutching them tightly in his. “I- I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Why did you break up with me?” You asked, a question that had been killing you all these years, rotting away as it sat, unanswered. 

Vernon opened his mouth and nothing came out. He closed it and looked away. 

“Of course.” Something between a sob and a laugh echoed from your lips as you pulled your hands away. “You haven’t changed at all, Hansol.”

Vernon watched you walk away, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you. He picked up his headphones and continued to work, ignoring the ache in his chest as the music blurred before him, fresh tears clouding his sight. Vernon knew you were right. He hadn’t changed. All these years and he was still a coward, owning a heart filled with a hundred things to say to you but a mouth that refused to help. 

Vernon couldn’t help but look your way as his concert progressed into the night, sneaking glances towards your section as he plastered a look on his face that he hoped passed as ‘chill.’ 

He hated how your camera seemed to be pointed everywhere except at him. 

Although Vernon would never admit it, he could still remember all the times he had been the focus of your shots, smiling at him from behind your camera as you chided him to stay still. His insecure teenage self had always hated being the center of attention, but now that he had grown and learned what it was like to lose you, he found himself missing once being your muse. 

Perhaps it was time for him to speak out, he thought, as he watched your eyes flitter across the crowd. 

Why don't you speak it out loud Instead of living in your head?

A sickening pang landed in his stomach as he lowered his microphone, his own advice seering through the front of his mind.

He had to tell you that you had never stopped being his.

The tour bus reeked of alcohol and puffs of weed as the band relaxed after their last show. Declining to drink, you sat next to Chan, keeping a watchful eye on the group as their designated sober friend. 

You hated how painfully aware you were that Vernon was missing. It was a habit you still couldn’t kick -- how you still seemed to be hot wired to notice him first, even in a crowded room.

“Y/N.” Joshua poked your ribs to catch your attention. “Vernon’s looking for you.”

Frowning, you scooched away from him to avoid the liquid that was sloshing dangerous from his cup. “Why?”

He shrugged. “He’s waiting outside.” 

You found him sitting on the curb, a few meters away from the bus, scuffing his feet against the gray asphalt. An empty can of beer sat by his side. 

“Hansol.” You could tell from his composure that he was drunk. “Let’s go inside.” Walking closer, you tried pulling him up by his arm, failing as he continued to sit.

Vernon let out an unintelligible grunt. 

“Hansol.” You repeated, suddenly getting a strong sense of deja vu. “We’re not children anymore, Han. I can’t keep picking you up each time you crash out.”

He looked up at you with red eyes, an all too familiar pout on his face. “Y/N.” 

“Hansol.”

“Remember how we used to play two truths and a lie?” He suddenly asked, echoing the countless times the two of you had played the game for fun. “We never finished.”

“What?” Your throat suddenly felt awfully dry as you recalled the instance he was referring to. That one time you guys had played, just a few days before your break up. 

“We got interrupted halfway by my mom. I never got my turn.” He frowned when he realized you were still standing, your hand gripping his arm as yours dangled loosely by your side. “Sit down, let’s play.”

“You’re drunk, Hansol.” You reminded him. 

Shaking his head, he insisted once more. “Let me finish.”

There was nothing you could do but humor him, and you had to admit, you were curious as well. 

Vernon exhaled loudly before speaking, his breath hitting the air in wisps of smoke. “Okay. Two truths and a lie.” 

You looked down at your intertwined hands. 

“I broke up with you because I didn’t love you anymore. I never actually wanted to be a rockstar, not initially at least. And-” He paused, breathing deeply once more. “I’m still in love with you.”

You felt your lungs constrict and explode.

“You’re drunk.” Standing up, you pried your hands apart, throwing his back into his lap. 

Vernon nodded, his eyes unfocused as he stared at some spot on your jeans. “Guess.”

“Hansol.” Your tone sterned, knowing he was a few seconds away from passing out or throwing up. “Vernon.” 

Maybe you were the one who felt like throwing up. 

Because you knew none of the things he just told you could possibly be true. 

Vernon knew he had done something wrong when he woke up with a splitting headache, his ears ringing as he rolled out of bed. He had barely regained his bearings before Chan barged in, pulling the curtain that separated his bunk from the world apart. 

“Vernon, Y/N’s leaving.” 

A lighting bolt shot through his spine. “What?” 

“She told Joshua she can’t do it anymore. Something about having enough photos for tour posts already, so she’s leaving.” Chan stared down his disheveled friend, shaking his head. “What did you even say to her last night?”

“What?”

“She came back looking like she wanted to hurl.” 

“I need to go.” Vernon stood up, stumbling to put on his shoes as he unplugged his phone from the charger. 

Chan wordlessly pointed him towards your direction. 

“Y/N!” Vernon scrambled out of the bus, missing the last two steps down entirely as he ran to catch up with you. 

“Hansol-”

“I love you.” He panted out, the words escaping him like a breath of fresh air. 

The rejecting words you had been meaning to say caught in your mouth, slipping back down your throat and choking you. “What?”

“I love you. I always have.” He pulled your bags out of your hands. “Please don’t leave, I just got you back.”

“Hansol, I-”

He held up a hand, a wordless request to let him finish. “Let me tell you something I should’ve said years ago, please. Without the games this time. I love you. Hell, I never stopped. I broke up with you because-” He paused.

You half expected him to bail again. To let history repeat itself. 

“Because I was scared.” He finished, and you felt your lungs begin to work again. “I was being a stupid teenager who felt the touch of a real lover and got spooked. You were so fucking real and it terrified me.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” 

Vernon averted his eyes at your question, chewing at his bottom lip as he thought. “I guess the longer I stayed away the easier it was.” He let out a dry laugh. “You were already so perfect in my memories I didn’t want to risk erasing that by trying again and failing.”

“Why now?” You could feel your chin quivering as tears gathered, awaiting his answer. 

“I don’t want you to leave.” He stated simply. You used to hate the fact that Hansol was a simple man, thinking it meant he could never care for you in that deep and encroaching way you wanted. 

“You wouldn’t have failed.” You told him, because in your life it had only ever been him. “And I was never perfect.”

“You were to me.” Vernon held out his hand, a wordless request to try again. “You still are.”

You took it with no hesitation, because now, you knew simplicity was just his way of life. And to Vernon, loving you was the simplest thing to do in the world. 

[louisupdates]

If you’ve been on social media today, you may have seen a certain word trending: Zouis. But what does it mean? Well, Zouis is portmanteau of Zayn and Louis. Specifically, Zayn Malik and Louis Tomlinson from One Direction.

The pair were spotted together in Los Angeles, with Tomlinson attending Malik’s gig—sending the internet into a frenzy

With Zouis spreading like wildfire on social media, this story operates as an interesting example of how fandoms can deal with grief, and, for once, how the internet can be a positive communal force.

What’s Happening With Zouis? Why Were Zayn Malik And Louis Tomlinson Together?

Zayn Malik is currently on his Stairway To The Sky tour, and is playing several nights at the Shrine Expo Hall in Los Angeles, California.

Louis Tomlinson—who was in boyband One Direction with Malik—attended the show on Jan. 29. This is the first time the pair, known as Zouis, have been together publicly since One Direction bandmate Liam Payne’s funeral on Nov. 20, 2024.

After Malik left the group in 2015, One Direction broke up the year after, and the members have rarely been together since, with each pursuing solo careers.

This makes the appearance of Zouis a special moment for fans, as well as seemingly for Malik and Tomlinson themselves, with the former referencing his bandmate’s attendance at his concert in glowing terms:

How Did Social Media React The Appearance Of Zouis?

The online world went wild for the return of Zouis. There are tens of thousands of tweets about the event. Many of which show pure enthusiasm:

While others contain simple declarations of love towards Zouis:

There’s a sombre tone to some posts which reference the death of Liam Payne:

While difference accounts are self-referential about their own reaction to the partial One Direction reunion:

There’s one overwhelming trend though: pure excitement and adulation.

Why Is Social Media Reacting To Zouis In This Way?

There are a few things at play. Firstly, One Direction fans are renowned for their obsession with the group. Combined with the size of the boyband—3.4 million people saw them during their Where We Are tour alone—this means there’s a huge community of interested people whenever news about them drops. Like Zouis.

But there’s also a more sombre side to this overwhelming online reaction, and that can be linked to a sense of loss.

It’s common for fans to form parasocial relationships with people they follow. Effectively, this is when individuals believe they have a close tie with public figures, even though this is a one-way friendship. Often, this is driven by the perceived intimacy of social media.

This can induce serious emotions. So, when a member of a group like One Direction passes away, as is the case with Liam Payne, it can feel as though someone they’re close with had died.

When Zayn Malik and Louis Tomlinson came together for the first time since the funeral, it can feel like a cathartic moment for fans, as though things are righting themselves. One way of dealing with this outpouring of emotion, then, is to post on social media.

And that’s a key way of viewing this explosion of activity about Zouis: a celebration.

People are not only expressing joy at seeing members of One Direction together, but this enthusiasm also acts a tribute to Liam Payne. This creates a sense of community, of an entire fandom coming together and praising a new chapter in something they love.

Ultimately, the spread of posts about Zouis displays a positive side to social media, one where people share a connection and come together in unity. In these divided times, that’s a beautiful thing to see.

[vinyldreamsfuckup]

Anything Goes

Warnings: threesome, smut, oral (female receiving), fingering (female receiving), unprotected sex, betting, cussing, flirting, fighting, fluff, praise.

I’m sorry I haven’t posted in a week 🫣 I’ll be better about it. I hope this sort of makes up for it 🫶🏻

You and Slash had been dating for the better part of a year and a half. Your relationship was mostly good aside from the occasional fights and arguments. You’d watch him play with Guns and he’d come in to watch you sell vinyls at the record store you worked at. It was an easy enough relationship. That was until he went on tour. You went to see him as much as you could but it was difficult. Well you pulled some strings and you were able to go on tour with them for a month.

You were mostly used to getting hit on by the guys. It happened nearly every time you walked into a room, but living with them? Well that changed everything. Slash went from thinking it was funny and being proud to have a girlfriend all his bandmates wanted to being annoyed with their constant flirting and sexual comments. Right now you were sitting cross-legged on the couch of the tour bus reading a book while you waited for the guys to return with food.

Slash pushed onto the bus with a huff. When he saw you though he smiled and handed you a box of food.

“Thank you,” you said setting down your book and grabbing the food.

“Of course,” slashed exhaled and kissed your cheek.

You opened your food and Axl pushed onto the bus. Slash looked over at him angrily.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” Axl said to Slash rolling his eyes.

“Fuck off, Axl,” Slash said back.

“You’re being such a fucking prick,” Axl spat out harshly.

“Yeah? Well you’re a fucking asshole. Find your own fucking girlfriend,” Slash stood up as he spoke.

“Oh I have no problem doing that,” Axl smirked.

“Then stop trying to fuck mine,” Slash nearly yelled. You choked on a french fry.

“You’re just afraid you’ll lose,” Axl smiled.

“Lose what?” You asked looking between them.

“Am not,” Slash quickly said back to Axl.

“No you so are. You’re afraid I’ll win and then what would you do?” Axl taunted as he stepped closer to Slash.

“Win what?” You asked standing up. Slash paused for a second.

“Nothing,” Slash said with a sigh.

“I bet him that I would make you scream louder if he gave me the chance,” Axl smirked. Slash paused and rolled his eyes.

“Dude seriously? Fuck. Off.” Slash sneered.

“Let’s ask the lady what she wants,” Axl said with a smile as he looked at you.

“I’m staying out of this,” you said putting your hands up defensively.

“1000 bucks says I’ll win,” Axl challenged Slash. Slash looked at him anger lacing his face.

“Dude…” Slash trailed off for a second, “fine but if I win you need to stop trying to fuck her.”

Axl smirked, “Deal.”

Slash looked at you, “are you sure you’re fine with this?”

You just nodded, “fuck it.”

Slash smiled gently and lead you back to the room. There was a bed but the room on the bus was mainly used as a rehearsal space. You guys walked in and Slash locked the door.

“I go first,” Axl said with a smile. Slash rolled his eyes. Axl walked up to you and gently cupped your cheek. The assertive, hard shell that seemed to cover Axl faded for just a second, “just relax okay? If anything hurts tell me.”

“Okay,” you smiled back at him. He gently kissed you. You had to admit, Axl was an absolutely amazing kisser. You kissed him back. He grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head. You pulled his over his head. His eyes trailed down your chest taking in every curve.

“God you’re beautiful,” Axl whispered before gently leaning you back on the bed. He started to kiss down your neck and chest. He unclasped your bra and discarded it. His mouth carefully licked and kissed over your nipples earning a soft moan from your mouth. Axl smiled as he continued down your torso.

Axl got to your pants and he carefully pulled the sweats from your body taking your underwear with them. You were already wet. He kissed the inside of your thigh, gently kissing down until he got to your core, “is this okay?”

His breath was hot against your folds. You nodded frantically and he smiled before gently running his tongue through your folds. You groaned out loudly, earning a smile from Axl. He was sure he would win. You gripped the sheets and he ate you passionately but still gently. Slash watched and then smirked.

You looked over to Slash and he took a step toward you. He grabbed your boob and kissed you. You groaned into Slash’s kiss as he let his fingers gently tease your nipples. At the same moment Axl’s tongue swiped across your clit. A loud moan fell from your mouth and your back arched. Axl groaned against you sending vibrations through your body. Your hips bucked against Axl’s face. He gripped your waist tighter as he ferociously ate you. His tongue moved quickly earning gasps and moans to fall from your lips. Slash kissed down your neck still teasing your nipples. Your body shook and you came loudly. Axl smiled as he licked up your folds.

“Fuck off, Hudson” Axl mumbled as he finished licking you clean. Slash rolled his eyes and took a step back. Axl pulled himself over you and lifted your leg onto his shoulder.

“Let me know if this hurts,” Axl said gently. He pushed two fingers into you earring a groan. He pushed in deep and curled flicking over your sensitive spot. You grabbed his arm and dug your nails in.

“Fuck…” you breathed out. Axl smiled. He pumped his hand a few times.

“Is this okay?” Axl asked with a smile. You nodded and bit your lip.

“It’s amazing,” you whispered. Axl smiled and kept pumping his fingers in and out of you.

“God you’re so fucking beautiful. It’s amazing,” Axl whispered. He took his free hand and carefully pulled himself from his pants.

You groaned when you saw him. You could feel the wetness grow between your legs. Axl could feel it too which made him groan. He carefully pulled his hand from you and lined up with your entrance before he pushed into you. The way you were angled meant he could hit nearly every corner of your walls. Loud moans fell from your mouth as he moved.

“That’s it,” Axl whispered, “Beautiful.”

Axl rammed into you hitting every spot. You groaned out and gripped the sheets. Slash leaned forward and whispered in your ear, “you’re beautiful. That’s my baby.”

You looked at him and bit your lip. He connected your lips quickly. Your hands found his hair and quickly tangled in his curls. He smiled as you kissed him. Axl’s hips moved against you quickly and roughly causing loud moans to leave your lips into the kiss. Axl smiled and his body began to tremble as he moved against you. Axl groaned and he pushed into you deeper moving quicker. Your body arched and you groaned loudly as you came. Axl groaned as he finished.

Axl smiled and pulled away, “Beat that.”

Slash smiled, “she moans louder for me every day. Watch and learn.”

Slash stepped up to you and flipped you onto your stomach. You let out a breath. Slash leaned down and whispered in your ear, “You okay, my love?”

You nodded breathlessly and angled your hips for him. Slash smiled and pressed kisses down your spine. Goosebumps were left in with each kiss. He then rammed into you immediately hitting your sensitive spot and you groaned out in pleasure. Slash smiled and kept rocking his hips perfectly hitting every angle. You gripped the sheets tightly and moaned loudly.

“God…slash….” You moaned out. Slash slapped your ass.

“That’s it, baby. God you’re fucking perfect,” Slash said his tone filled with desire. He thrust into you every movement feeling better than the last. Long loud moans fell from your mouth.

“God you’re beautiful. I love you,” Slash groaned out. Your moans became high pitched.

“God…slash…I love you…” you groaned loudly. You felt him twitch and your body started to tremble. He moved deeper and more methodically hitting every spot perfectly. You came undone beneath him. His body began to move sloppily as he helped you ride your high before loudly releasing all over your back.

You both sat there breathless as you tried to gain your composure. Sweat covered your bodies.

“You win,” Axl groaned out. He set $1000 on the bed before walking out. Slash breathlessly laughed. You chuckled and pulled away from him and laid down on the bed. Slash collapsed next to you and put his hand on your face.

“I’ve never met anyone as beautiful and perfect as you,” Slash said wish a smile as he gently brushed your hair from your face. You placed your hand on his arm.

“You’re amazing,” you breathed out. Slash smiled.

“Only because I’m so in love with you,” Slash laughed, “just had to prove it.”

You chuckled, “I love you too.”