#professional musician: check

[generalmusicmadness]

from iii's instagram story

[homoqueerjewhobbit]

Thinking about how many people Hannibal would have to kill to cater his and Will's wedding reception. Like, he'd take out a whole orchestra bc he thought they played Music for 18 Musicians too quickly. Or the entire staff of a grocery store that ran out of fresh tarragon. Or every single person who laughed at them in middle school.

[luvsupa]

“YOU’RE A STAR!”

tags: musician!choso x manager fem!reader, reader has a secret fan account, both are in 20, choso has lots of tattoos and is an r&b singer, he has piercings, smut (p in v), ōral sex (f!recieving), sub!choso (ish), voyeurism, etc. mdni.

w.c: 3,2k

a/n: YALL I’m almost at 2k LIKE THATS INSANEEEE!! TY GUYS SOSOS MUCHHH AHHH

+ erm if there’s errors lmkk

you sit in choso’s expansive dressing room, surrounded by his makeup and fashion assistants, eyes glued to the big screen as he finishes his final song of the concrrt. the sound of thousands of screaming fans fills the air, their voices blending with his deep, angelic one. even from back here, you can hear the unmistakable roar of the crowd, hanging onto every note he sings. the way he commands the stage, the way he moves—everything about him makes your chest tighten.

he looks unreal tonight, his stylist outdid themselves. the subversive, edgy look suits him perfectly, especially the ripped wife-beater that showcases his inked arms, gleaming under the stage lights. the body glitter you suggested—yeah, that was definitely a good call- catches the light in all the right ways, making him look out of this world.

you’re supposed to be his manager, maintaining some form of professionalism, but damn, it’s impossible when he looks this good. especially when he runs his hand through those messy brown locks , letting a few strands fall over his face. you bite your lip, trying to focus on anything but the way your heart races when he’s on stage.

the thought of professionalism slips even further when you pull out your phone, dimming the brightness low. not for work—no, not tonight. instead, you open the app you use to connect with his fanbase under your secret username.

chogetsmewetter

it still makes you smirk every time you see it. his fans had been relentless, trying to bribe you for the username. but it’s yours, and you're not giving it up for anyone.

chogetsmewetter: are u guys seeing how good he looks… need him immediately

responses flood in almost instantly.

chososwhore: baby, nobody wants him more than i do…

choochoo: y’all send videos of the concert plzzz :(

kamosbaby: my baby daddy lookin good on stage.

you’re too caught up in scrolling through the candid photos and fan reactions, smiling like an idiot, when the makeup assistant catches you off guard.

“what’s got you smiling like that?” she teases, arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

you quickly shove your phone into your pocket, plastering on your best fake smile. “just checking cho’s schedule for next week. his brothers want to surprise him at the last show.”

it’s a lie, of course, but you’re used to spinning quick stories, and she just shrugs, moving on. but not without another jab. “girl, you love calling him cho, don’t you? does he let you call him that in bed too?”

your eyes widen as choso’s fashion designer giggles along with her. “guys, nothing’s going on. we’re strictly business—i manage his schedule, and that’s it.” but the words taste bitter, even as you force them out. nothing more. yeah, right.

the deafening cheers from the TV rescue you from any more teasing. all eyes turn to the screen as choso wraps up, thanking the crowd with that deep, velvet voice of his. the camera zooms in on his face, his lips curling into a soft smile as he waves and blows kisses to the adoring fans. gosh, he’s perfect.

a few moments later, the dressing room doors swing open, and there he is. choso, in the flesh, followed by his bodyguards. his team erupts in cheers, swarming him with praise, but you move to the back in the corner, blending into the background. moments like this are too chaotic for you, but you know you’ll have your moment later, probably on the tour bus.

amidst the chaos, his eyes find you, and he frowns a little when he sees you typing away on your phone, oblivious to the world. he doesn't know, of course, that you're replying to posts about him.

before you can finish your latest message, you feel him standing right in front of you, towering over you. the air feels thick between you two, and you curse internally as you slip your phone into your pocket once again, heart racing.

“you forgetting something?” his voice is low, teasing, as he glances down at your hands.

you quickly shake your head, trying to play it cool. “c’mon, cho, you know i’d never survive in that crowd,” you say, nodding toward the gaggle of team still dying for his attention.

his hands, cold from the stage, slide into yours, pulling you just a little closer. you swallow hard. “i knowww, but your support matters the most outta all of ‘em,” he says, rocking slightly, his lips curling into that perfect half-smile. the one that makes your stomach flip.

he smells incredible, the scent of his unreleased cologne wrapping around you, making your head spin. you smile, turning away, but he moves with you, trying to catch a glimpse of that smile.

“c’mon, let’s grab dinner. my director’s waiting,” he says, releasing your hands, and you instantly frown, missing his touch.

you follow him and his bodyguards out, offering a quick farewell to the makeup and fashion team. they don’t miss the chance to wink at you, clearly still enjoying the teasing.

as you near the exit, the noise outside grows louder—fans desperate to catch one last glimpse of choso. this is the part of the night you dread, knowing how insane the crowd can get. but when he looks over his shoulder and gives you that grin, the chaos doesn’t seem so bad.

two guards swing open the doors, harsh light flooding in as flashes from cameras blind you instantly. the screams grow deafening, and you brace yourself. this is always the worst part—being unable to see, disoriented, as the paparazzi go wild trying to capture every inch of choso’s presence.

but choso? he thrives in this. he’s in his element, beaming as he dives straight into the crowd. signing albums, posing for photos, accepting gifts—he eats it all up. you trail behind one of his bodyguards, eyes flickering to where he’s standing. your heart clenches as you catch sight of him—his lips locked with a fan.

you swallow hard. it’s not the first time. he always does this with her—his so-called “number one fan.” he remembers her face, her name, every single time. each time he kisses her in front of his adoring crowd, it feels like a punch to the gut. the fans love it. the media laps it up, turning her into a minor celebrity among his fandom.

how do you know? through your secret fan account.

you scoff quietly to yourself as you slip past the crowf, making it safely onto the tour bus. heading straight for the private area at the back, you drop your bag onto one of the leather couches, sinking into the seat by the window. from here, you can still see him outside, giving the fans hugs, taking endless photos. you watch in silence, jealousy simmering just beneath the surface.

finally, after what feels like forever, choso steps onto the bus, breathless and flushed. he walks down the aisle toward you, eyes gleaming with excitement.

“fuckkk, they’re amazing,” he groans, collapsing onto the couch beside you, still riding the high from the crowd.

they’re amazing? or she’s amazing…

you force a smile, eyes glued to your phone. “you looked like you were having fun, choso,” you mutter, distracted by your personal texts. his head drops back with a groan. one thing he can’t stand is when you don’t give him your full attention.

before he can start whining, one of the fashion designers calls your name from the front of the bus. you sigh, getting up quickly to see what the issue is. in your rush, you leave your phone behind on the couch.

choso watches as you walk away, eyes narrowing when he sees your phone lying there. you never leave it behind, always keeping it close, and curiosity gnaws at him. his leg bounces as he contemplates it. fuck it.

he snatches your phone up, eyes widening as the first thing he sees on your notification center is all he need to see.

[chogetsmewetter] new like from choochoo and 100+ others:

I need to fuck choso nowww, he’s so fuckin hot it’s not fairrr.

damn.

a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face. so that’s why you’ve been acting weird. he sets your phone back down just as he hears your footsteps returning.

you return, completely unaware of what just happened. “choso, they said we can’t leave until another hour—” you start to explain, but he’s not listening. his thoughts are elsewhere, his leg bouncing slightly as he bites the inside of his cheek.

“how do you want me to fuck you?” he suddenly blurts out, his voice low and dark.

your eyes widen, body stiffening as his bold words hit you like a train. you fumble for the curtain, pulling it shut so the driver can’t hear.

“w-what the fuck are you talking about?” you stammer, your breath catching in your throat. his dark brown eyes lock onto yours, unwavering. he doesn’t need to say it—his gaze tells you everything.

he knows.

panic rises inside you as you glance toward your phone and then back to him. he nods slowly, confirming your worst fear. he found out.

“so… are you those shy freaks…” he asks casually, standing up from the couch. his towering frame looms over you, and your world feels like it’s shrinking as he removes his leather jacket, revealing his tattooed, muscular arms.

“y-you wanna do this here? in front of the fans?” you whisper loudly, eyes darting toward the windows that are now covered by the blinds.

he chuckles, low and wicked. “you didn’t seem to care posting your dirty thoughts in front of me.”

and he ate with that one.

just like how he’s now devouring you in the back of the tour bus. you’re nestled on the couch, right in front of the curtains that separate the chaos outside from your little world. choso is on his knees, going at you like a possessed man. your legs are pushed tight against your chest as he laps up your juices, sucking and swallowing your sweet fluids. his cold nose piercing nudges your clit as his tongue thrusts deep inside you at an inhumane speed. any trace of shame has long evaporated, replaced by his loud moans vibrating against your cunt, making your eyes cross slightly.

your hands tangle in his silky brown locks, tugging gently, which earns you a whimper as he pulls back, your essence and saliva coating his chin and glossy lips. “mmm, p-pull on it more, pretty,” he urges, gazing up at you with doe eyes, brows furrowed in concentration as he loses himself in you once again.

obeying him, you tug harder on his hair, bucking your hips against his face while his hands grip the back of your thighs, pushing you deeper into your chest. he’s growling now, lost in the pleasure he’s giving you.

“yesss, f-fuck, you’re so goooddd,” you praise, head thrown back as he slurps at your juices like a starving man. he pulls away to admire your twitching hole, his fingers parting your folds wider. he spits a wad of saliva directly into your gaping pussy, making you clench instinctively as he slides in two thick digits, effortlessly gliding through your sloppy walls. his thrusts are calculated as he studies your features, which are now squeezed shut in bliss.

“hmm, she’s fuckin’ wettt,” he comments, your pussy responding with loud, squelching sounds that fill the back of the bus, echoing your mess. “hahh, you put that username to use,” he taunts, your body burning with embarrassment. his thick fingers pick up speed, massaging that sweet spot, and your back arches off the couch, your lower tummy tingling as your breath quickens.

choso can sense you’re close, the way you tighten around him. suddenly, he sucks hard on your clit, swirling his tongue around your poor nub. you cover your mouth with your hands, muffling the moans that threaten to escape .

just before you can cry out his name, he pulls his fingers out, leaving you undone. he retreats from your soaked clit, watching your translucent essence dribble down your convulsing hole, spilling onto the couch. your breath hitches as he delivers a sharp slap to your pussy, jolting electricity through your body, and the sticky remnants of your orgasm cling to his palm, igniting an insatiable addiction to your sensitivity.

“nahhh, is this the wettest you can get?” he says, rising from his knees and unzipping his jeans, pulling his throbbing cock free from its confines. your mind goes blank at the sight. fuck, he definitely never lied about his size, especially in his songs. choso sits beside you, manhandling you onto his lap, your pussy pressing against his hard cock as you whimper,

this is really happening.

“ride me, darling—use me all you want.” he states, and it feels like you’re living out your dirtiest dream, because yu are. he leaves trails of kisses along the side of your neck, his glossy lips—coated in your cum—smudging against your skin. you stare down at his shaft, his leaky tip begging to be touched. raising your hips, you grab the base of his cock, making him wince as you align his rosy tip with your drooling entrance. his crownhead stretches you open, and you whimper at how big he is with each inch you take. your velvety walls accommodate his size, practically expanding as he settles into your pussy.

without warning, choso grips your hips, slamming you down against him. you wail as every inch of his cock plunges deep inside your walls, and he moans at how tight you are around him. “f-fuck, baby, takin’ so fuckin’ l-long,” he says impatiently, thrusting up into you as each movement leaves you more dazed and breathless.

with newfound courage, your hips immediately fuck back into his, faster than his sloppy thrusts, making his eyes roll back in pleasure. your grinding drives him wild, your pussy gripping him like it’s life or death. choso’s head falls back, broken moans slipping past his lips, his adam’s apple bobbing as he struggles to hold back even more sounds of ecstasy.

you can feel the heat building between you, his cock stretching you further with each thrust. you grind down harder, relishing the way his body responds, each movement causing him to whimper and squirm beneath you. his hands grip your waist, guiding you, but you can tell he’s losing himself in the sensation, growing more ditzy with every upward thrust.

“c’mon, baby, ride me h-harder,” he begs, voice thick with desperation. his eyes fluttering as he’s moaning loudly. it’s intoxicating, watching him come undone because of you. you match your pace to the rhythm of his moans, your slickness coating him more with each thrust. the sound of your bodies slapping together drowns out the cheers of the fans outside, your pussy so noisy it’s almost too loud for your own liking.

“mmm, keep your eyes on me, pretty boy,” you purr, brushing your fingertips through his hair, tugging a big- earning a whimper at the pet name. you can see the way he bites his lip, trying to hold back more moans, but you know he won’t last long.

“hgn, you think jus’ cause you’re on top ‘m your bitch?” he groans, the tension between you two thcick. his gaze is wild, pupils dilated, and it only drives you further as you increase your pace, your hips slamming hard against his thighs, coating his throbbing base with your slickness. you giggle as he pathetically moans out, hands gripping your flesh tighter as you grind harder. his chubby tip sloppily kisses your cervix, sending shockwaves through your body as it begins to shake.

the way he reacts to every thrust, every grinding motion sends a thrill down your spine. he’s completely lost in you, his breathing ragged and unsteady. “y-you feel so good,” he stammers, voice breaking as he struggles to keep his focus, each word laced with pleasure. you smirk, feeling powerful, proud at the control you have over him.

“mhmm, ‘m starting to think y’er all talk, cho. you’re not showing me how you’d fuck me,” you taunt, leaning in his ear and tugging on his ear piercings, making him shudder at your seductive voice.

your words truly did something to him, awakening something much darker within. without hesitation, he carelessly picks you up, sliding his cock out of your hole as he slams you against the table adjacent to the couch. bending you over, he realigns himself with your hypnotizing cunt, the air thick with the heat of your lust. choso slams his entire length into your pussy, the sound of slickness echoing in the cramped space as your body squelches loudly, both of you moaning in unison. he grips your hips tightly, pounding mercilessly into you, each thrust sending shockwaves through your body as you cry out, not caring if the bus driver or any staff hears your cries of pleasure.

“cunt so good,” he growls, feeling you clamp down hard on his girthy length. his moan resonates deep within your core as he swats your ass, the sound of skin meeting skin sending electric jolts through you. he feels like he’s deep in your guts, rearranging everything inside you, each thrust making your pussy squelch obscenely. it’s so loud that it drowns out any sounds from outside, the wet slaps of your bodies merging into a symphony of lust. you’re practically squeaking like a damn mouse with every thrust, your body unable to contain the pleasure coursing through you.

without warning, he grips your hair and pulls you up against him, his mouth brushing against your ear as he whispers, “take it all, mama. you can take it.” his words send a shiver down your spine, the duality of his sweet yet dominating tone intensifying your arousal. you nod, feeling yourself surrender completely to him, wanting nothing more than to be his.

“m-more cho’ ,” you whine, and he responds with a primal growl, his hips slamming into yours harder, faster, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. his movements are relentless, each thrust a story to his desire, his need for you. you can feel the tension coiling tighter within you, the pressure building to a breaking point.

but then, in the midst of your euphoric bliss, you slowly open your eyes, and your jaw drops in shock. he placed you directly in front of the window, where all the fans are just outside, oblivious to the scandalous scene unfolding inside. the reality of the moment crashes over you, and you gasp, suddenly aware of the possibility of being seen.

“c-cho… the—fuckk—the fans,” you manage to warn, your entire body jolting with his relentless thrusts, each one motivating him to go even faster, to claim you harder.

“nahh, now you wanna back out?” he snarls through gritted teeth, going absolutely feral. his grip tightens as he reaches to grab the back of your hair, pulling you flush against his chest, forcing you to take him deeper. the blinds rattle as he yanks them open wider, letting in more light for the fans to see everything happening inside. the flashes from paparazzi cameras blind your vision as they snap multiple shots of your fucked out expression, choso grinning behind like a devil at each click.

“say cheese, pretty. you’re gonna be a star,”

[goldfades]

★ YOU AND ME, WE'D BE A BIG CONVERSATION─── PB⁵ (part 1/3)

❪ requested -> "paige x famous!reader (singer, actress, up to u) inspired by endgame by ts where p reveals that r is her celeb crush in an interview and a few days later theres a vid of r responding to it saying shes been obsessed w paige lately / its such a big deal bc r has been involved in a lot of romantic drama lately so everyone is kinda iffy abt her rn, causing her to put up a tough guard. but p sees thru the facade when they start talking and allows her to be herself, making r fall even harder 🥹 " ❫ for my disco nonnie!

─ warnings | gossip, a lot of drama and random ass names (sorry i get confused when i don't name them), mention of panic attacks, hurt to comfort, pretty sure nothing else?

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my wcbb masterlist!

"Y/N L/N, ONE OF the biggest names right now in the music industry has found herself at the center of yet another romantic scandal involving her ex and now, reportedly a new lover."

The 22-year-old pop sensation, who recently topped the charts with her latest single, was spotted last night leaving an upscale Los Angeles restaurant with actress and heartthrob, Camilla Harrison. The two were seen getting into the same car, sparking rumors of a budding romance.

This sighting comes just weeks after Y/N's highly publicized breakup with fellow musician Lauren Marie, with whom she had a tumultuous on-again, off-again relationship for over two years. The split was reportedly mutual, with both parties citing busy schedules and the pressures of their careers as contributing factors. However, sources close to the couple suggest that Marie was unhappy about Y/N's close friendship with Harrison, which began on the set of her recent music video where Marie made a cameo appearance.

"Y/N and Cam have undeniable chemistry," says an insider. "They've been spending a lot of time together, and it's more than just a professional connection. They're trying to keep things low-key, but it's clear there's something more than friendship between them."

Despite the drama, Y/N continues to thrive professionally. Her upcoming album set to release in the next couple month, is already generating significant buzz. Critics are calling it her most mature work yet, with deeply personal lyrics that reflect her recent experiences.

Meanwhile, Harrison, 26, known for her roles in blockbuster films and her good looks, has remained tight-lipped about the rumors. Her publicist declined to comment, stating that Marie is concentrating on her upcoming film projects.

──

"Okay, next question," the reporter smiled as she scrolled through her phone as Paige gave a tight-lipped smile toward the camera. "Oh! Found a good one, okay. Who is your celebrity crush right now."

"That's easy!" Paige laughed as she glanced toward the reporter. "Y/N L/N, she's beautiful and insanely talented,"

The room filled with laughter as the reporter raised an eyebrow, clearly delighted by the response. "Y/N L/N, huh? That's a popular choice these days, a lot of people are big fans. Have you met her?"

Paige shook her head, her cheeks slightly flushing. "Nah, I wish. But I'm a huge fan of her music. Every song is a masterpiece and I'm not usually into pop,"

"Interesting," the reporter leaned forward, intrigued. "You know, there are rumors about Y/N's love life all the time. How do you feel about all the speculation surrounding her personal life?"

Paige shrugged, maintaining her relaxed demeanor despite the stupid question. "I think it's tough being in the spotlight like that. People forget that celebrities are human too. Everyone deserves a bit of privacy, I'm more interested in her work and what she brings to the music industry rather than whoever she's dating."

The reporter nodded, appreciating Paige's perspective. "Absolutely. It's refreshing to hear someone focus on the artistry rather than the gossip!"

──

"Okay, quick. Who's your celeb crush right now, other than Cam," Bowen Yang, grinned at you, raising an eyebrow as the audience laughed, eagerly awaiting your response.

You laugh (and decide to ignore the comment about Cam), feeling a slight blush creep up your cheeks. "Oh, come on, Bowen, you can't put me on the spot like that!"

Bowen leaned in, his grin widening. "Come on, Y/N, the people want to know!" He pointed to the crowd as they cheered, causing you to put your face in yours hands.

You then take a deep breath, pretending to think hard. "Fine, if I have to choose... I'd say Paige Bueckers. She's incredible on the court, and I've seen some interviews with her ─ she seems like such a cool person."

The audience erupts with loud cheers, causing both you and Bowen to laugh. Bowen's eyes widen, clearly delighted by your answer as he clapped. "Ooh, scandalous! Paige Bueckers, I love that! Have you met her?"

You shake your head, smiling. "No, not yet. But I did see a clip of her saying some really nice things about me recently. It was super sweet."

Bowen's face lights up with excitement. "She was practically gushing over you, this is perfect, we need to make this happen. Maybe you could collab, I don't know how but uh, if anyone could make it happen, it's you."

"Thank you, I think?" You laugh, nodding. "Totally, we'll see what happens."

Bowen turns to the camera, his enthusiasm infectious. "You heard it here first, folks! Y/N and Paige Bueckers, the crossover we never knew we needed but now desperately want!"

The audience erupts in applause and cheers, and you can't help but smile at the idea. Bowen turns back to you, his tone shifting slightly more serious. "Alright, before we wrap up, I have to ask ─ how do you deal with all the attention and rumors about your personal life? It seems like you're constantly in the spotlight."

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, caught off guard by the serious question. "It's um, definitely challenging at times, but I try to focus on the positive aspects. I love making music and my fans. As for the rumors, I just remind myself that I can't control what people say or think. I stay true to myself and the people who really know me, and that's what matters most."

Bowen nods appreciatively. "Wise words, Y/N. And that's why we love you so. Thank you so much for being here tonight."

"Thank you for having me," you reply, genuinely touched by the support.

"And that's Y/N L/N!"

The crowd erupts in cheers as you genuinely smile, happy for the support, waving toward the audience.

──

"Hey everyone, welcome back to the podcast I'm Lila, and today we've got a lot to talk about. Y/N L/N is at the center of yet another romantic scandal, and there's even a new twist involving basketball star Paige Bueckers. Let's dive in!" Lila said, her enthusiasm palpable.

"Yaya, so excited," Maya chimed in, adjusting her headphones. "So, Y/N was spotted last night leaving an upscale LA restaurant with actress Cam Harrison. They got into the same car, which has everyone buzzing about a possible new romance."

"Yeah, and this is just weeks after her very public breakup with Lauren, I think that's her name? It's been a whirlwind, to say the least. But honestly, I think Y/N is handling it all pretty well. She's focused on her music, and she's just living her life. What's your take, My?" Lila asked, leaning in slightly.

Maya sighed, her skepticism evident. "I don't know, Lila. I get that she's young and living her life or whatever, but it feels like there's always some new drama with her. First Lauren, now Cam Harrison? It's starting to look like a pattern."

"But that's thing, with being in your early twenties. Figuring out what you want, who you want to be with? I mean, she's also incredibly talented and driven. Her new album is generating a ton of buzz and it hasn't even been released yet," Lila countered, her voice full of admiration.

"Sure, but it seems like she's always entangled in some romantic drama. Maybe it's just the nature of fame or whatever, but it can also come off as messy. And now, with Paige Bueckers gushing about her in that interview, it adds another layer. I just hope she’s not stringing people along," Maya replied, her tone annoyed.

Lila nodded, annoyed at Maya's words but maintaining her supportive stance. "I get where you're coming from, but did you see Paige's reaction? She was genuinely excited about Y/N. It was sweet. Plus, Y/N responded so positively on the SNL interview. I think it shows she's got a good heart and she's just navigating her way through a complicated life!"

Maya hesitated for a moment as she glanced at the camera, then continued. "I mean, look at Taylor Swift. She's known for her string of high-profile relationships and breakups, and it hasn't always been received positively. It feels like Y/N is heading down a similar path- What?"

"Come on, Maya!" Lila glared at her, clearly displeased. "Comparing Y/N to Taylor Swift isn't fair. Taylor's faced a lot of unfair criticism for just living her life and expressing herself through her music. Y/N is her own person, with her own journey. She's navigating her twenties in the spotlight, and that's not easy."

Maya just shrugged as she glanced toward the camera, before adjusting her mic. "Well that got awkward, moving on..."

──── COMMENTS

sela 🐾 | is she wrong though... love her music but why'd paige gotta get involved too? ♡ 108

↳ l/nslover | cause they like each other???

↳ 🦕 | has bro ever heard of a pr relationship 😭

↳ ari! | THEYRE NOT EVEN TOGETHER YET BROOO😭😭😭

sarah™️ | LILA GET THE HELL OUTTA THERE BROOOO 😭😭 i never liked maya tbh this is just a weird ass take ♡ 1.7k

kayla 🎀 | listen as a y/n girly i also understand maya's point of view cause.... shes kinda for the streets ♡ 879

↳ ™️ | dont call yourself a """"" y/n girly """""" if ur gonna say she's for the streets??? the fuck??

⭐️ | i was understanding maya's pov up until she started saying all that taylor swift bullshit, they're two separate artists LET US LIVEEEEEEE ♡ 2k

josie may | hardest watch of the day 🥲 maya u let us down with that dumb ass take

──

"I just kinda... wanna disappear for awhile," you confessed, your voice quiet as you pressed the phone to your ear. "Don't know why this keeps happening, you're the only that can... help me through it. Sorry if I woke you up-"

It happened again ─ over the last couple of months (ever since you'd broken up with Lauren) you'd gotten pretty severe panic attacks. You were told by everyone on your team to just stay off social media and what had you done... exactly the opposite of that.

"No, no, I was awake anyway, promise," Paige's voice echoed through the phone. You heard shuffling through the phone as you sniffled, sighing. "And I don't mind, like at all. I meant what I said, I'm always here for you,"

Your heart swelled as you managed a smile, as tears began to build in your eyes. You and Paige had only been talking a month and she already understood you more than anyone had in what felt like forever. Her steady presence was like an anchor in the storm of your life.

The constant media scrutiny and the aftermath of your breakup with Lauren had left you feeling alone, but Paige’s calming influence was slowly becoming your safe haven.

"I just... I don't know how to deal with all of it. The rumors, the pressure, it's all so overwhelming," you admitted, wiping away the tears that had started to fall. "Half of it, it isn't even true."

"Hey, it's okay, I know, I believe you," Paige's voice was soothing, almost like a warm embrace over the phone. Even the smallest affirmation from Paige made you feel all okay again, even if it was just for the moment.

"You're not alone in this. We can figure it out together, step by step."

That part made your lips twitch up in a smile, feeling yourself relax again. You took a deep breath, feeling a bit of the tension ease from your shoulders. "I just feel like I can't breathe sometimes. Like the walls are closing in, y'know?"

"I get it," Paige replied softly. She'd know about it all too well, she'd been through it herself plenty of times. "Sometimes it helps to focus on the small things. One step at a time, remember? Have you tried any of those breathing exercises I taught you?"

You nodded, even though she couldn't see you. "Yeah, a little. They help, but it’s hard to remember in the moment."

"Next time you feel a panic attack coming on, call me. Anytime, okay? We'll get through it together," Paige's voice was firm, reassuring. "You don't deserve the shit they give you, like at all."

"Thank you," you whispered, feeling a surge of gratitude. "I don't know what I'd do without you, P."

"You don't have to thank me. I care about you, and I wanna help. Plus, I like hearing your voice," Paige added with a light chuckle, trying to lift your spirits.

You couldn't help but smile at that. "Me too, especially your cute tired voice."

"Cute, really?" Paige laughed through the phone and you swore you felt like your whole world felt even again. "But uh, if you do really wanna disappear you can always come to Connecticut."

The thought of escaping the relentless spotlight, even for a little while, sounded like a dream. "Really?"

"Yeah, you can stay with me for a bit, if that's uh... what you want." Paige explained through the phone. "My friends are super chill and it's always a fun time, if you ever wanna come. Think about it?"

The idea of spending time with the basketball player you'd quickly become enthralled with, seemed almost like a dream. And getting away from LA and all the madness that came with it sounded heavenly, you were going to give Connecticut a thought.

You sighed, feeling a warmth spread through you that had been absent for far too long. "Yeah, I will. And Paige?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. Really."

"Anytime, Y/N. Sweet dreams."

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | bad reputation

ii. bad reputation by joan jett & the blackhearts 

a/n: andddd we're at chb! reader is mean to luke lol. vaping, smoking, mentions of addiction. crumbs of clarisse x chris!

series masterlist | previous | next

“kid, you really need to look at the bright side,” your dad said, taking a sip of his diet coke. “you get to summer in montauk for free. no paying rent, no worrying about what to eat, the world is your oyster.” 

“i don’t understand why i have to spend the entire summer here,” you glared at him, close to ripping your hair out. 

“you’re smarter than that,” he replied, placing his can down on his table. he kicked back in his chair, letting his sandal-covered feet prop up on his desk. his aloha shirt wrinkled as he placed his arms crossed behind his head. he was taking his camp manager role too seriously. “you got put on probation by your field hockey coach.” 

your eyes narrowed, “and?” 

“... for punching a teammate.” 

“who deserved it!” you argued, huffing as you sat on the seat across from him. if there wasn’t a desk separating you from your dad, you were sure you would’ve strangled him with the camp necklace around his neck. “i promised you i’d be on my best behavior, but no. you decided that i needed to be glued to camp all summer.” 

“listen,” he leaned over on his desk, “the girl probably deserved it, but you still got kicked out from summer conditioning, kid– from the top field hockey team in the country! not everyone gets to attend unc but you did and you fucked that opportunity, so until you can prove to me that you have your shit together, you’re stuck in montauk.” 

“gods, you’re ridiculous!” you howled, getting up from your seat. “i hate you.” 

“love you!” he called out, chuckling to himself. you got your dramatic flair from him so he couldn’t fault you too much for your reaction. he probably would’ve reacted way worse if he was in your position. 

“yeah, yeah,” you yelled back, already out of his office. “love ya, too.” 

you walked out into the campgrounds, still huffing and puffing at your interaction with your dad. groups of children and teenagers were checking in for the summer. it amazed you how popular camp half blood became over the years. your dad wanted to create a summer camp for aspiring musicians and creatives to meet others and learn from professionals. he already had the network for it given that he used to be a hot-shot producer in the mid-nineties until he fell into his addiction. 

your dad never talked much about those dark moments in his life, and not many people knew about it, but he was happy to tell you about what came after it; meeting your mom, falling in love, and having you. his sobriety became his top priority when you were born, after you and your mom, of course. camp half blood started out as a dream your dad had when you were still a child, unsure of what you were passionate about, and he hoped you’d fall in love with music the same way he did. right before you turned four, he opened camp half blood. he said he wanted to have the place up and running and established by the time you were old enough to join. but alas, when you turned six and still had no musical or creative bone in your body, your dad’s hopes of having a musical protégé as a daughter were shattered. 

he bounced back from it though when he saw how passionate you were about field hockey. the second you picked up a stick, he saw your eyes brighten and he knew it was lights out from then on. he attended all of your games, bought you the best gear for the sport, and supported you in any way he could. you were thankful for that, for him, but you also knew that he probably would’ve preferred a kid he could talk music with. you saw it when he bragged about the new artists he signed to olympus records or when he talked about the kids at camp half blood. 

you took a sharp right turn at the corner of the dining hall, making a beeline to the secret spot by the lake that you stumbled across when you were fourteen. it was the place you retreated to whenever you and your dad fought while you were at camp. fights and arguments between you two happened often. your mom said it was because you were too similar for your own good. it was true. you and your dad were both stubborn, hot-headed, and unable to accept when you were wrong, but it also meant that you and your dad understood each other on a level that not many father-daughter duos did. 

even though you refused to tell him–or anyone for that matter– why the altercation with your teammate happened, your dad was on your side. he always was. 

you sat on the worn out bench, years of weather damage evident on the wood, taking out your cherry ice vape from your pocket. it was a vice you picked up in college. you weren’t proud of it, and it definitely started affecting your ability to play, but the stress of being a student-athlete, plus all the commotion with your probation started to get to you. 

you stared out into the view, appreciating the way the trees framed the lake in a picturesque way. camp half blood was beautiful; nature everywhere, there was utter silence except for the sound of water and birds chirping when you got far enough away from the noise and chatter of the campers, and the weather in the summer months was perfect. you let the smoke escape your lips, watching as the cloud dissipated into the air. 

“oh, my bad. i didn’t realize someone would be out here.” 

you turned around to see a boy, an unlit cigarette hanging from the corner of his lips. he wore a black, tight-fitting t-shirt and gray sweatpants. there was a silver chain hanging around his neck with a pendant tucked underneath his shirt. his tussled curls peeked under his backwards yankees cap. 

“spot’s taken,” you said, facing the view once more. you took a deep breath, sliding your vape in the pocket of the hoodie you wore. “go somewhere else.” 

“that thing’s gonna kill you, y’know.” either the boy didn’t hear you or he didn’t care enough to listen because he slid on the bench next to you, taking out a lighter for his cigarette. he closed his eyes, letting the nicotine into his system, “that has like chemicals and shit.” 

you scoffed, “like your cig is any better.” 

“i know what i’m putting in my body,” he shrugged. he motioned aimlessly in your direction, “you don’t know what’s in there. it hasn’t been around long enough for us to know the long term effects.” 

“‘m not planning to be doing this long term.”

“sure,” he smiled at you, unconvinced. “i’m luke.” 

you stared at his outstretched hand, shaking your head, “i’m not interested.” 

“i was just trying to be polite.” 

“if you want to be polite, find another spot to smoke.” 

luke eyed you, undeterred by your hostility. he leaned back on the bench, taking another puff, “nah, i’m good right here.” 

you took out your vape again knowing that you’ll need it to get through this conversation. the two of you sat in silence as you both smoked, letting the smell of the cigarette mix in with the artificial cherry scent. you tried your best to ignore the boy beside you, but it was hard to when he was so close to you. the bench seemed much larger when you were fourteen, when you were alone as its only occupier. 

“so five star, tough day?” 

“what did you call me?” 

“five star,” luke nodded to your hoodie, flicking off the ashes on his cigarette. “your unc field hockey hoodie? like five star recruit.” 

you looked down at your sweater, completely forgetting that you were wearing your team merchandise. you tugged on the collar awkwardly, suddenly feeling like you were exposed. “oh.” 

“so, tough day?” 

you glared at him, “what makes you say that?” 

“well, for starters, it’s the first day of camp and you’re by yourself away from where all the fun shit is happening, smoking a fucking– what is that? strawberry?”

“cherry ice,” you corrected. 

“cherry ice vape,” luke continued, “and you’re biting my head off for trying to start a conversation.” 

“maybe i’m having a bad day because a boy disrupted my me-time and decided to start a fucking conversation when i obviously want to be alone.” 

luke chuckled, pointing to the cigarette between his fingers, “relax, i’ll get out of your hair after this one.” 

“don’t make it a habit.” 

“what? smoking?” he asked, a boyish smile on his face. “already a habit of mine.” 

“interupting my me-time,” you replied, blowing out rings with the smoke in your mouth. “i don’t care what you do to your body.” 

“should we exchange numbers and coordinate when we’ll be using the spot?” 

you rolled your eyes at the teasing tone of his voice. this guy just doesn’t quit, “no, because you won’t be coming back here.” 

“i dunno,” luke looked out into the lake, a soft smile on his face. “i like it here. it’s pretty.” 

“i was here first.” you weren’t backing down. this was your spot. your secret spot, at that. not many campers ventured this far out into the woods, too afraid to get caught by their counselors and get in trouble, or too scared to get lost in the maze of trees. 

“sharing is caring, y’know,” his tone was playful.

you looked at him, no emotion on your features. you studied his face, furrowing your eyebrows like you were trying to place him. he looked familiar like you’d seen his face before. his eyes were big and brown, innocent looking compared to the smirk on his lips. a scar ran down the side of his face, subtle, but noticeable if you looked hard enough. it was slightly discolored compared to the rest of his face. his jaw sharp and cheekbones defined, with beginnings of a summer blush dusted across the bridge of his nose and the high points of his face. behind his ear, a small tattoo of the number “4” was hidden under his curls. his ears were pierced, two, small diamond studs on each earlobe. 

you’d seen him before, but you just couldn’t remember where and when for the life of you. 

you blinked, “i don’t like to share.” 

he threw the butt of his cigarette on the floor, gently stomping out the remnants of it with the tip of his converse convered feet, “noted.” 

you watched as he got up, keeping his promise of leaving you alone after one cigarette. the smirk on his face remained as he turned to face you before he left, “see you around, five star.” 

you made an noncommittal noise, not missing the sound of a deep rumble from his chest as he laughed at your dismissal. you watched him disappear into the trees, noting how his back flexed under his tight shirt as he cleared a path to avoid ducking under stray branches. 

you waited around twenty minutes before getting up to leave. you didn’t want to risk running into luke again, just in case he got lost on his way back. you were not going to lead him back to the safety of camp. if he got lost after trying to take over your spot, then so be it. that wasn’t your problem. 

as you entered the main campgrounds, you saw clarisse, a teammate of yours, who also got put on probation for coming to your defense, leaning against a tree trunk by the registration table. she needed a summer job and housing since she wasn’t allowed to come to practices and live on campus during her probation period, and you were quick to recommend her to your dad to be a camp counselor for the summer. thankfully, your dad was kind enough to say yes. at least you wouldn’t be alone all summer. 

you walked over to her, smiling kindly at the young kids you ran into on the way, excited out of their minds to be away from home for the next few months. “what’s up, la rue?” 

she smacked your arm, “why didn’t you tell me?” 

“ow,” you winced, clutching your upper arm. the girl was strong. there were many moments where you were thankful that you played for the same team. you did not want to be the poor girl who stood in clarisse’s way when she was in the zone. “tell you what?” 

“poisoned mercury!” she hissed, crossing her arms over her chest, “why didn’t you tell me they were gonna be here this summer?” 

“oh,” you rolled your eyes, “i didn’t think it was a big deal.” 

“not everyone grew up around celebrities, y/n,” clarisse reminded you, shaking her head. “sometimes, i forget that you did. you don’t talk about it as much as i would if i grew up like you.” 

“yeah, well, it’s not all glitz and glamor, to be honest.” 

you thought about your last relationship– a boy from california that you met during one of your dad’s work trips. it was a whirlwind summer romance that ended in a lot of heartbreak and a promise to yourself that you would never, ever date another musician again. your dad did try to warn you about him, subtly, of course, since he knew better than to butt into a teenage girl’s relationship. the boy had been begging your dad for a record deal for ages and he thought that by dating you, he’d get one step closer to his goal. your dad dangled the possibility of a record deal in front of him like a carrot, his own personal entertainment since he saw right through the boy, and ended up blacklisting him from the industry after he broke your heart. 

a little extreme? sure, but it wasn’t like he was that talented anyway. you still cringe when you remember his terrible rendition of “grenade” by bruno mars. 

“do you know when they get here?” clarisse asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

“i dunno, don’t care,” you shrugged, “when did you become such a huge fan?” 

“since i saw how hot their bassist is,” she laughed, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “seriously, y/n, chris rodriguez is fine.” 

“enough, there are kids around,” you shoved her playfully, laughing as you motioned for her to follow you into the cabin you were staying in. “i didn’t know they were gonna be here, actually.” 

“your dad didn’t tell you?” 

“i’ve been on a strict ‘no talking, unless it’s yelling’ rule with my dad the past few months,” you explained, entering your room and closing the door behind you. your bags were messily thrown across the floor, bed unmade, and walls empty. you didn’t get around to decorating and putting things in their place before you gave your dad a piece of your mind. “and i refused to accept that i would be staying here all summer.” 

“it’s not that bad so far,” she moved your training bag from your bed, sitting on it, “the kids are adorable little music nerds. i don’t think they’ll cause too much trouble.” 

“for your sake, ares cabin head counselor, i really hope they don’t,” you teased, beginning to put your things away. “i’m not worried about the kids, actually. it’s more of the people our age that i’m worried about. musicians can be such dicks.” 

“true,” she agreed, “do you remember the kid who acted like he was hot shit when he performed at the fall concert at unc?” 

“yes!” you let out a belly laugh, “the one who shamelessly flirted with lena?”

clarisse nodded, falling on your bed in a fit of laughter, “then ran away when he saw charlie.” 

“i mean charlie is a scary-looking dude,” you commented, taking off your hoodie and stuffing it into one of the drawers. you fixed the camp half blood shirt you wore under it, “big ass linebacker.” 

“but the biggest teddy bear.” 

“the biggest,” you grinned, thinking about your friends back on campus. you already missed them and your crazy, late-night adventures in your college town. you and clarisse met charlie the summer before your freshman year at unc during athlete orientation. he shyly asked if he could sit next to you and clarisse in the back row, not wanting to block the view for people behind him if he were to sit in the front. he was a timid guy for someone who could probably bulldoze you and clarisse without breaking a sweat. 

he introduced you to his girlfriend, silena, when the school year started, and the four of you became inseparable ever since. you were glad you found a friend group in college, one that you could trust and depend on. 

“and this is the cabin where you all will be staying.” 

you looked back at clarisse, eyes widening as you heard your dad’s voice in the living room of the cabin. he didn’t tell you that someone other than clarisse was going to be staying in the cabin with you. 

“there are six rooms in total. one master and five others. there are three bathrooms. one’s in the master and the other two are out here. this is the living room and the small kitchen is down the hall,” he continued to explain, “my daughter has dibs on the master bedroom, though, so tough luck for you guys.” 

“i didn’t know you had a daughter, mr. d.” it was a boy’s voice.

“yeah, i do, y/n,” your dad said. you can practically hear the smile in his voice. “she doesn’t like the limelight so i don’t bring her up too much. i’ll introduce you guys to her when i see her.” 

“chris, put that down!” another voice. this time it was a woman. she sounded older, and tired, like she’d said that phrase a million times before. “sorry about them, mr. d. they may all be of age, but i swear it still feels like they’re kids.” 

your dad laughed, “trust me, i get it, may. my little girl is turning 19 soon, but she’d give her 12-year-old self a run for her money.” 

“i call this room!” 

“travis, you can’t just call dibs on rooms when the rest of us haven’t gotten a chance to take a look around.” 

“you snooze, you lose, rodriguez.” 

clarisse jolted from your bed, jaw hanging as she put the puzzle pieces together. she pointed at the door, whispering, “is that poisoned mercury?” 

your dad was in the middle of a conversation with the woman, may, when you opened your bedroom door to investigate. he was nodding along to what she was saying, taking mental notes of her words. you walked towards them, giving may a polite smile when she noticed you coming their way. 

“speak of the devil,” your dad clapped his hands, placing a hand on your back to guide you into the conversation. “may, this is my daughter, y/n. y/n, this is may castellan, poisoned mercury’s manager.” 

you held out your hand, “nice to meet you.” 

“oh god, a teenager with manners,” she exhaled, immediately accepting your handshake, “pleasure to meet you.” 

“you know we can still hear you, right, mama c?” a boy with curly hair peeked his head out from the room beside clarisse’s. he was wearing a white tank top, his tanned skin adorned with patchwork tattoos on full display. he had a pearl necklace around his neck, a charm of the band’s logo resting between his collarbones. he had a wide smile as if he wore his emotions proudly on his face. “these walls are thin.” 

“you were supposed to hear me, chris,” she replied, rolling her eyes jokingly. 

you tilted your head, analyzing the boy. you understood what clarisse meant. he wasn’t your type, but he was definitely hers. she always did like the golden retriever type. you raised your arm, giving him a small wave, “hey, i’m y/n.” 

“it’s the famous y/n!” you turned around at the sound of your name to see a boy with dark hair and a vintage iron maiden shirt on. he was leaning against his doorframe, toned arms flexed as he stuffed his hands in his front pockets. “travis.” 

another boy, looking eerily similar to travis popped his head out his door at the sounds of introductions. you cocked an eyebrow, “are you guys tw–”

the boy shook his head, stating “no we’re not,” at the same time as travis nodded, “yes we are.” 

you looked at may for help. she shook her head, throwing a pointed look at travis, “they are not. travis is older than connor by a year.” 

“which one of you fuckers stole my charger?” 

you froze in your spot. you knew that voice. your mind started connecting the dots then– luke castellan, lead singer of poisoned mercury. you’d seen pictures of him on your twitter timeline from both your friends from college and from home. he seemed to be the topic of conversation every week because there was a new thing to write about. his wild rockstar adventures were a crowd favorite. 

you once heard that he had a pet monkey that he bought with his first check from their album sales, but tmz reported it so it wasn’t the most reliable source. the last article you saw about luke was titled “leaving a trail of broken hearts: luke castellan’s extensive dating history and how they ended.” typical. 

“oh, luke, i want you to meet my daughter,” your dad beamed, none the wiser. he placed his hands on your shoulders, twisting your body to face the boy. 

you pursed your lips, biting the inside of your cheek. so much for him getting lost.

“five star, nice to see you again,” luke’s eyes lit up, the corner of his lips quirking up in a smile, “looks like we’re roommates.”

[twopoppies]

Sign the petition here

The entertainment industry, acclaimed for its glamour and stardom, is equally infamous for the enormous pressure it exerts on the mental health of artists. Resultant issues such as stress, anxiety, depression, substance misuse and even suicide are alarmingly high. According to research, performers are 2-3 times more likely to suffer from these issues compared to the general population.

In recent news of Liam Payne's tragic death as many others, the entertainment industry needs to be held accountable and be responsible to the welfare of their artists. We seek to implore lawmakers to create legislation safeguarding the mental health of artists within the industry.

Such a law would necessitate regular mental health check-ups, adequate rest periods, and the presence of mental health professionals on-set, including any ongoing support during their career. It will ensure a healthier, safer, and more conducive working environment for artists to cultivate their talents reducing phycological distress. This would also include early interventions to protect and minimise before it's too late. Furthermore, the increasing rate of musicians who die before the age of 35, is concerning. We need to act now!

The artist's role is invaluable not just in the world of entertainment but also in society. Let us ensure their protection and wellbeing. Your signature could be a lifeline for these talented individuals, contributing to a larger movement of mental health awareness and care in industries worldwide. Please, sign the petition.

#LiamsLaw

[louisupdates]

Why this petition matters

The entertainment industry, acclaimed for its glamour and stardom, is equally infamous for the enormous pressure it exerts on the mental health of artists. Resultant issues such as stress, anxiety, depression, substance misuse and even suicide are alarmingly high. According to research, performers are 2-3 times more likely to suffer from these issues compared to the general population.

In recent news of Liam Payne's tragic death as many others, the entertainment industry needs to be held accountable and be responsible to the welfare of their artists. We seek to implore lawmakers to create legislation safeguarding the mental health of artists within the industry.

Such a law would necessitate regular mental health check-ups, adequate rest periods, and the presence of mental health professionals on-set, including any ongoing support during their career. It will ensure a healthier, safer, and more conducive working environment for artists to cultivate their talents reducing phycological distress. This would also include early interventions to protect and minimise before it's too late. Furthermore, the increasing rate of musicians who die before the age of 35, is concerning. We need to act now!

The artist's role is invaluable not just in the world of entertainment but also in society. Let us ensure their protection and wellbeing. Your signature could be a lifeline for these talented individuals, contributing to a larger movement of mental health awareness and care in industries worldwide. Please, sign the petition.

SIGN THIS PETITION

Lottie Tomlinson has signed the petition (via LouisTSpainNews)

[ocean-sailor]

#LiamsLaw

The entertainment industry, acclaimed for its glamour and stardom, is equally infamous for the enormous pressure it exerts on the mental health of artists. Resultant issues such as stress, anxiety, depression, substance misuse and even suicide are alarmingly high. According to research, performers are 2-3 times more likely to suffer from these issues compared to the general population.

In recent news of Liam Payne's tragic death as many others, the entertainment industry needs to be held accountable and be responsible to the welfare of their artists. We seek to implore lawmakers to create legislation safeguarding the mental health of artists within the industry.

Such a law would necessitate regular mental health check-ups, adequate rest periods, and the presence of mental health professionals on-set, including any ongoing support during their career. It will ensure a healthier, safer, and more conducive working environment for artists to cultivate their talents reducing phycological distress. This would also include early interventions to protect and minimise before it's too late. Furthermore, the increasing rate of musicians who die before the age of 35, is concerning. We need to act now!  

The artist's role is invaluable not just in the world of entertainment but also in society. Let us ensure their protection and wellbeing. Your signature could be a lifeline for these talented individuals, contributing to a larger movement of mental health awareness and care in industries worldwide. Please, sign the petition.

[yoonia]

overdrive (m) | B.I

⤑ Summary | As his personal manager who always works closely with him in both his professional activities and private matters, it has become one of your duties to cater to his needs, to always be on his beck and call, even if you have to put aside your own needs to please him.

⤑ Title | Overdrive ⤑ Pairings | Kim Hanbin (B.I) x female reader ⤑ Genre | PWP, Smut, Artist/Musician!B.I, Manager!reader ⤑ Word count | 13,345 words

⤑ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; involves mature and explicit sex scenes, including: sexual tension, groping, stripping/nudity, breast play, hand job, oral sex (male receiving/blowjob), deepthroating, unprotected sex, public sex, tour bus sex, accidental voyeurism, rough sex, praise kink, dirty talk, hair pulling (on both), edging, begging, swearing, breast play, nipple play, panty ripping, fingering, clit play, finger licking, cum tasting/eating, cum swallowing, biting, light restraint, implied creampie, panty biting(?), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, aftercare, body worshipping.

⤑ Main Masterlist | Taglist | Feedback | Mailbox | Ko-fi

⟶ Read on AO3

⤑ Story Notes | Written in 2nd person POV (in case you’re new to my writing, I don’t use ‘y/n’ coding as all of my lead characters are considered as OCs). This story is purely a work of fiction, with the usage of artist’s/idol’s names as fictional characters. Any similarities in the usage of names for other characters and circumstances are purely coincidental. | PS. This is only roughly edited, but I hope you’ll still enjoy reading the story. 

It feels like only moments ago this place was thriving with raw energy.

Loud music was blasting through the speakers, while the sounds of fans screaming his name and singing along to his song echoed through the entire venue. Everyone and every part of this place came alive as Hanbin took control of the stage with his mere presence. 

You can almost see him still being there as you look over at the stage, commanding it with his music. You still remember how he kept everyone completely entranced with his alluring voice and hypnotising moves. What he did on stage was pure magic. 

And that magic must have been strong enough that you can still picture him doing his thing on that empty stage. You can still feel his presence even after the lights have been turned off and the crowd has long since left this place to return home. 

Thinking about him like this makes your body burn hot. 

Your heartbeat starts racing the same way it did earlier while you were standing by the side of the stage, watching him move his body to the music. After spending the past year working with him and then joining him on this tour, the reactions he inflicts on you no longer surprise you. 

He captivates you in ways that you can never possibly explain. That you have never experienced before. 

Even once the music has stopped, once his performance has long ended and there are no more of his lively audience around you dancing and screaming his name, you can still feel everything. 

Even without the music, its vibration seems to linger. Still reverberates through the air around you and you can feel it deep within your body. As if the space around you is still humming with his presence even in the silence that remains.

“You’re still here?” a voice calls out, drawing your attention away from the empty stage and out of your thoughts right before they begin to dive into a different, slightly darker place. The road manager comes to your side. The man appears just as exhausted as you are—perhaps even more, knowing what he is required to do before and after these shows—yet he still has a big smile on his face as he greets you. 

“Yeah, I just met up with the promoter, so I figured I’d check in to see how you guys are doing while I’m still around,” you try to make up excuses. Not that he would start questioning further. “How’s everything going?” 

The road manager begins explaining everything—from all the tasks that the road crew had just completed and how they are handing the rest to the local staff. Skipping all the technical details that you have no business with except to report back to Hanbin later. 

Much later.

Once you are done with your actual responsibilities. 

As Hanbin’s personal manager who normally handles his private needs, keeping watch of the road crew dismantling the stage equipment and the stereo system isn’t really a part of your duty in the first place. Especially when there aren’t really that many things they would need to cover in these indoor venues. Getting to know what they are doing isn't even the reason why you still remain here after the show is over. 

You are simply buying time before returning back to him. Which is what you probably should be doing already now that everything else has been taken care of. 

“Everything is packed and ready to go. I think the boys are planning to join the dance crew and grab dinner somewhere nearby, then we’ll be out of here before midnight,” the road manager continues as he walks with you towards the backdoor of the venue. “How about you join us?” 

His offer catches you off guard, yet you quickly refuse. “No, thank you, you guys go ahead. I still have some things to do, so I’ll figure something out later.” 

Just as you are heading towards the exit, you are met with the guys from the dance crew, and Hanbin’s close friends, coming in from the parking lot. Most of them look freshly showered, having found the time to freshen up after getting heated from the show. They all give you a friendly greeting once they notice you there, while Shawn, one of the dancers, steps closer to you to say hi. 

You look over his shoulder to confirm that Hanbin isn’t with them. 

Noticing this, he immediately says to you in a low voice, “Hanbin’s back in the bus. Said he wanted to chill and take it easy for the night. He also said that he’s waiting for you to talk about something.” 

“Ah, I see,” you answer him, trying to stay calm about it when your heart is palpitating at the thought of Hanbin waiting for you to come and see him. 

Alone. 

Which only means one thing—

“We’re heading out to get some food and maybe find some snacks and drinks for the road. Should we get you guys something to eat too?” Shawn kindly offers. You can only smile and nod while trying your best not to take notice of the way he speaks, or the way he is looking at you knowingly. You also ignore the way he seems to be insinuating something else when he speaks about you and Hanbin. 

As if he knows your little secret and the real reason why Hanbin is expecting you. 

“Sure, that would be lovely. Thanks for offering. He’ll probably skip dinner if you don’t get him something to eat.” 

The dancer grins. “I wouldn’t be too worried about it if I were you.” 

Shawn’s cryptic answer stays with you for a while as you walk away from the group. Yet you try not to let it bother you too much as you start making your way to find Hanbin. 

The night breeze welcomes you as you step out of the establishment. Then the silence thickens around you as you walk across the quiet parking lot. You merely take a moment to breathe in the fresh air around you and pay no heed to everything else, having only one destination in mind. But you make sure to remain within the shadows formed under the line of trees on the edge of the parking lot, keeping away from the fans who might still be lingering around or taking their time leaving the place. 

It doesn’t take long before you start seeing them. 

There are some standing beyond the trees in pairs while others are gathering in small groups. Some appear to be lounging around and resting, no doubt trying to come down from the high that they had all gotten from the concert before tracking their way back home or to their hotels. Others seem to linger without any apparent reason. Perhaps nothing other than hoping to get one last glimpse of Hanbin or get noticed by him and his boys if they would just wait around a bit longer. 

You watch them for a brief moment before continuing your walk across the parking lot. Parked at a dark corner at the far end of the parking lot, it feels like it is taking you forever to finally reach the tour bus. As it they had all the intention to tuck it away and keep it from being seen. 

Once the tour bus appears in your line of sight, your heart stutters. 

Under the night sky and kept in the dark, the vehicle looks almost inconspicuous. It doesn’t draw too much attention even with its size and how out of place it seems to be here. 

Yet it draws something else out of your thoughts as you take a good look at it. 

It brings a smile to your face when you remember how it all started, how Hanbin and his team came up with the idea of travelling between places in such a bus throughout this tour. He sold the idea as a way for him to make the most out of it, to embrace every moment that he could get and be able to visit different places in between. He also talked about his wish to live life like a rockstar while he is on the road—something which was quite alarming and made you worry at first, hence why you have been joining him through the whole tour.

So far, it has been rare for you to join him and his tight crew riding on the bus during the overnight drives, except for the short journeys and when you had to work side by side with him between shows. 

Other times, you have been travelling solo whenever you were required to. Only so you could be ahead of the entourage to make sure that all the preparations needed for his show would be in place by the time they arrived. 

Tonight, that would be one of the things that is going to change. 

With one last destination left on the tour, the bus and its passengers will be heading down the road right away instead of remaining in this city for the night. And you are going to be joining them on the bus to get to the next destination instead of travelling solo to the next city. 

But as you walk towards the bus, you can feel, deep down, that the travel arrangement wouldn’t be the only thing that is going to be different tonight. 

The place around you is dark and quiet. So quiet that you can almost hear the sound of your rapid heartbeat echoing around you as you reach for the door. Your breath grows heavy as you open the door and climb your way in. More silence welcomes you, which only thickens further once the door is closed behind you. 

Making your way to the back of the bus, you walk past the seats where everyone would usually waste their time while on the road, loitering and chattering loudly with a ton of noises filling this area. The kitchen and the dining area look partly messy—with bags of potato chips and empty bottles left unattended on the counter, even when the tables are wiped clean—and you wonder just how much mess will be added here later once the boys are back. 

And then you reach the area where the bunk beds are. The sleeping quarters that everyone would use to rest and spend the night in while the bus is driving across cities and between borders. With only individual curtains giving each bunk its privacy, noises from outside can still filter through in the night. 

Thinking about this as you walk through the row of bunk beds only brings you back—way back—to the night which started it all. The same night which gave you the reason to be here, tracing your steps through the bus to look for Hanbin. 

It was after the second show when you tracked down this quiet aisle with the same purpose which led to one small mistake that started an entire ripple effect. You came here that night when Hanbin suddenly disappeared after the show while everyone was ready to grab dinner. You came back to the tour bus to find and fetch him so he could eat, knowing how often he would skip his meal when he was focused deeply in work. 

That night was exactly like tonight, with everyone away and on their way to find the nearest local restaurant, leaving the bunk beds empty. At least, that was what you had expected, believing that Hanbin must have lost track of time when he immediately dove straight back into work the way he often would just to burn out the rest of his energy for the night. 

You were heading further back of the vehicle to find him when a faint sound of a groan caught your attention. It sounded like someone or something was in one of the bunk beds, which drew your curiosity. So you stopped to listen.

A bunch of other noises started to become more noticeable then, and it didn’t take long for you to notice that the sounds came from the last bunk on the row. The one that Hanbin was meant to use during the long trips on the road. You carefully crept closer so you could listen better. To know just what was happening behind the curtain. 

There was a mix of cryptic sounds heard coming out of it—the sounds of sheets ruffling, soft knocking against the side of the bunk, and more soft groans.

You wondered for a moment if it was really Hanbin inside the bunk. But when you started suspecting him to be the source of those sounds, you immediately felt annoyed. Livid, even. When the thought of him doing something as risky as getting it on with some stranger crossed your mind. 

It didn’t help when you remembered about his wish to live like a rockstar. Remembered how he had spoken about it before the tour. The thought further led you into believing that he may have actually done it. That he had invited someone, perhaps a willing fan of his, onto the bus. 

It made you want to strangle him just thinking about him actually doing it. The last thing you needed was for him to get caught in trouble in the middle of the tour. Much less for him to get entangled in malicious rumours if something like this should get out in public. 

As the noises continued, you gently grabbed the hem of the curtain, ready to throw it back and bust him. A myriad of scolding went through your head at that point as you were ready to make him pay for it. 

Another groan was heard and you decided to move once you confirmed that it was really his voice that you heard. Ignoring the way the sound of his pleasured moan sent tingles through your body, you whipped the curtain back to catch him in the act, only to regret it as soon as you saw him. 

Hanbin looked like a deer caught in the headlights when he looked up. His eyes were wide open with fear, yet you could also see a dark need emerging from his gaze which became more visible the moment he realised that it was you. 

But you already had your attention somewhere else to notice it.

Reclining in the tight space within his bunk bed, Hanbin was bare-chested, wearing nothing more but his shorts that had been pushed down under his hips. You just couldn’t resist looking down to see his hand wrapped around his thick cock, fully exposed and standing hard against his stomach.

Once the shock wore off, his truth finally came out. He confided in you about his need to release all the energy that was still boiling within him after the show. That it would have made it hard for him to be able to feel calm in the night unless he had all of that energy drained out of him. To have it tamed, so that he could finally relax and have his proper rest. 

“I don’t really think it’s working, though,” he breathlessly said then with a bitter chuckle. “It’s been so long since I’ve been with anyone. And it’s kind of hard to make myself cum when my head is at the wrong places.”

“What if I give you a helping hand? Will it work?” The offer slipped right out of your lips before you could do anything to stop it. You didn’t even realise what you were offering him until the moment you saw the look on his face. He looked surprised, but intrigued at the same time. Then there was this new emotion which seemed raw and fierce coming out through his gaze when he considered taking your offer. 

“Why would I say no to that?” was what he said as he leaned back, allowing you to take matters into your own hands, literally, as you fixed his problems simply with the touch of your hands until he was able to find release. 

That was the first time that you crossed the line just to help him. And it was definitely not the last. 

The arrangement continued after the next show, and the next, and you kept coming to his aid at the end of every concert throughout the ongoing tour. Your help had become the best option available rather than allowing him to find other ways to get out of his predicament once the night got deeper and he was still too hyped up to sleep.

After a short while, your carnal favour has escalated from merely giving him your special aid through your helping hands to taking him deep in your mouth once he needed to be stimulated further. 

That was as far as you had gotten since this arrangement started. Never once had it led to something more. And Hanbin had always been the focus of your “service”, except for the few times he returned the favour by giving you release with the touch of his deft hands when you had to do this in the privacy of his hotel room. 

Your body trembles in heat. Both from reminiscing all the sinful act you had done to help him and from the pleasure that you gained in return through his touch. 

Reaching the end of the aisle, your eyes linger on the last bunk. The curtain is drawn, and there is no sound coming out of it. You can tell that he won’t be there if you pull that curtain open, so you move on.

The only sound that you can hear comes from the small room at the back of the bus instead. The area that was meant to be the master bedroom, altered into a private cabin with sofa beds and desks which would have more purpose for someone like Hanbin. 

You shouldn’t be surprised to know that Hanbin would choose to be there, waiting for you to come to him. Because you know that out of all the sections within the bus, it would be the only place that can provide you all the privacy that you may need to be able to help sort out the uncommon predicament that Hanbin might be facing tonight. 

Right this moment, that is where the faint sound of his moans and slow breaths is guiding you. And you follow its lead, with your heart palpitating the closer you are to get to it. 

As you gently open the door to the cabin, you find Hanbin sitting on the long sofa at the back of the room. The same sofa bed that you would use to sleep on whenever you are riding on the bus, when you are not helping Hanbin finish his work or write his music while everyone else is asleep in their bunks.

You enter the cabin, closing the door behind you. You take a moment to have a good look at him before coming to his side. 

Hanbin still has the same pants that he was wearing on stage. Sill bare-chested after discarding his shirt at the end of the show to toss it to God knows where. The only difference is that he is barefoot, with his shoes left hastily on the floor. The strands of his hair—which appear to be wet with sweat—are now a complete mess with curly strands falling over his face like curtains shielding him from the dim lights illuminating the room.

Hanbin has his head tilted back as he reclines on the sofa, looking awfully exhausted after the hours-long, full-energy show that he had just concluded. You can see his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. His bare skin is glistening with a thin layer of sweat that somehow makes him look even more alluring than he always has been. The glow on his skin further accentuates the lines on his chest, shoulders, and torso, making you feel the urge to touch him there. 

Before you can realise it, your legs begin to move, taking you to him. At first, it appears to you that he has yet to notice your presence. Until you notice the slight tremor in his deep inhale of breath once he senses that you are coming closer.

As you come to him, Hanbin lifts his head to look at you. The dim lighting around you didn’t allow you to see it before, yet as he subtly shifts on his seat, you finally notice that he had left his pants unbuttoned and unzipped before you had gotten here. 

Seeing the sight of his hard-on, partly covered by his pants while the tip is resting heavily on his stomach, it reminds you of the first night you saw him like this. Except that instead of having his hand wrapped around his hard girth, Hanbin keeps his hands to his side this time. Both are clenched tightly into the sofa, allowing you to see the tension rolling out of his body.

That tension seems to grow further when he opens his eyes, watching you coming closer to him with an intense gaze. 

“You’re here,” he says once you are standing right before him. His voice almost feels like an echo in the silence that surrounds you. Still sounds hoarse after the show. 

“I’m here,” you find yourself responding as if you are completely entranced by his gentle voice. You clear your throat, hoping that you can shake away the yearning in your voice before he ever notices it. “I heard you were expecting me. I came right away, assuming that you needed my assistance.” 

You trail your gaze back down on his lap, eyeing closely at the sight of his hard cock. It twitches against his stomach the more you give it attention. You lick your lips, wishing for a taste. Yet you manage to keep your voice steady when you tease him, “I didn’t expect that you would have started already without me.” 

A slow grin appears on his face. “There is no way I could start anything before you got here. I was waiting for you. But as you can see, I needed to do something about it when it was starting to hurt so bad.” 

He stops with a hiss. His body seems to react while he converses with you. “You’re the only one who can help me during times like this,” he says to you before dragging his tongue across his lips. 

There is a subtle disappointment flickering in his eyes when he adds, “Funny, I thought you would be as excited as I’ve been to finally have some time alone like this once the show ended.” 

The look that you see in his eyes and the disdain you hear in his voice catch you by surprise. You didn’t truly expect that he would be anticipating this as much as you have been. It makes you feel guilty for stalling time instead of coming to see him straight away just like you were supposed to. 

You had only lingered back to gather your wits before facing him. It was something that you felt needed to do, after the reactions he wrung out of you while he was performing. 

Even now, you still feel hot as you are picturing him dancing, rolling his body to the music as if he was making love to it. And your body is still reacting the same way. Heat rushes through you, centering at your core. Then you look down again at his throbbing shaft, and that heat shifts into something else. 

You take a deep breath and quickly move your eyes to his face to gain composure. “I was planning to come find you right away, but I had to make sure that everything was going as planned before we could go back on the road,” you try to explain yourself, even if you can tell that what you are giving him is nothing but a lame excuse. 

“Is that so? I guess I can’t blame you for making sure that you’re done with the job. I almost thought that you were avoiding me,” he jokes with a feeble chuckle, to which you quickly respond with,

“I would never do that.” You surprise both him and yourself with your immediate respond. You are mostly surprised at how much you meant it. “There’s no way I could avoid you. Not at times like this, at least.”

Hanbin falls silent, making you tense for a moment. Until he lets out a relieved sigh. “That’s a relief to hear. I’m glad,” he says. A subtle tremor rises from his chest just then, and you can tell that he is still brimming with adrenaline. 

The same adrenaline that he had gotten built up from the stage, and the one that you will have to tame down for him to be able to sleep during the night. 

The same way it has always been. Once the music ends, the overflowing adrenaline that still remains in his body becomes out of control. And it is your job to help him come down from it. 

Only that it would need a different kind of high to make it happen. 

After tonight’s show, you know for sure that this would be a challenging of a task for you to deal with. You can only hope that you won’t get devoured by this new raw energy of his.

“How can I help you this time?” you offer with a soft voice that is nearly drowned by the sound of your rapid heartbeat. 

“Can you—” he starts to say in a whisper, “can you strip out of your clothes this time? Please, I want to see you.” 

His words, despite sounding like an inconspicuous request, are still enough to make you feel the same rushing heat building back up in your body. The only thing that you aren’t completely sure of is whether this feeling comes merely from lust. 

Because the rapid flutters rising in your chest are telling you that there is something else that is present there. Something that is insisting on blooming within you despite all of your efforts to keep it away. 

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” you ask him, trying to make sure that he knows what he is asking of you. That he realises that complying with his request now would only mean that both of you are crossing a new line. 

“I wouldn’t be asking you this if I wasn’t,” he firmly says to you, and you can almost hear his voice growing deeper and heavy with his desire for a moment before he covers it all up to say, “but you don’t have to if you don’t want to go that far.” 

But you do want to. Even if it means you are crossing over boundaries, and things may escalate further than they usually would. 

Somehow, you had predicted that things may turn out differently this time. Unlike those previous nights, lending him your helping hands may not be enough for you to solve this problem of his. Not tonight.

You already felt it since the show earlier, when there was a new raw energy emerging from him throughout the show. As if he was letting loose every pent-up desire on stage, which brought up the rumbling energy now still emerging through his body as he is sitting there, waiting for you to make a decision. 

Fulfilling his request seems risky when you are already getting too deep. You were never supposed to get your emotions involved. Yet it still happened. It happened before you realised it, and now it appears to you that it is already too late for you to try and stop it. 

You have made up your mind to try and ignore your treacherous heart. To focus on doing your job until the final day of his tour. Except that the answer you give him next doesn’t seem to support your decision and your mind decides to take a new risk instead.

“It’s fine. I’ll do it,” you calmly say to him while doing your best not to show how much his words are affecting you. 

“It would be better that way, after all, since you nearly ruined my favourite blouse when you made a mess on me the last time we did this,” you simply add, as you try to convince yourself that there is really nothing else behind this. That you just want to make it more practical. 

Your comment draws a grin to his face, as if he is recalling that salacious night in his head right after you brought it up. The night when you slipped into his dressing room right after a show, using the limited time you had to fix his problem before you were supposed to drive him and the dancers to the hotel where everyone could rest for the night. 

Except that in the rush of him finding release, Hanbin made a complete mess out of himself, and you, when drops of his essence fell all over your blouse. It would have been impossible for people not to notice you coming out of his dressing room wearing nothing but his sweatshirt, had there been people still loitering around after the show was over. 

You had initially believed that your secret was safe with you when you managed to slip out unnoticed, until you remember Shawn’s sly grin earlier when he spoke to you about Hanbin. 

Once again, you try not to dwell on it too much and focus back on the present. Back to the man who is sitting right in front of you, with his chest and cock partly out, as he waits for you to make a move. 

Looking straight into his eyes, you reach down to grip the hem of your blouse and strip it off of your body. Your trousers come next, as you unbutton them at the waist and start pushing the fabric down your hips.

Hanbin’s eyes never waver from you while this is happening. The way his gaze is so focused on you seems to only urge you to continue putting on a show for him. So you begin to sway your hips from side to side as you slowly peel your pants off of you, before letting everything fall on the floor.

Stepping out of your shoes and the pile of your discarded clothes, you leave your undergarments on and stand right between his parted legs. His gaze follows you as you lower yourself to the floor, kneeling down right before him. 

“What do you need me to do next?” 

Hanbin drags his tongue across his lips as he considers his options. Having you kneeling in front of him, with your face hovering close to his crotch is already enough to taunt and challenge him. 

Tension rises between you as he makes you wait. 

The air feels cold on your mostly bare skin, yet your body feels hot as your anticipation increases with each passing second. Being in this position makes you feel completely exposed and helpless, as if you are submitting to his control. Slowly, your knees begin to feel sore from holding up your weight. The rising ache only brings forth the other sensations rising in your body, making you feel sensitive to the slightest movement he makes when he shifts in his seat. 

This wouldn’t be the first time that your body is showing these reactions. When you are made to feel your own carnal desire rising in your body at the thought of pleasing him and fulfilling his needs. 

And this was the reason why you took your sweet time coming to him. Because you couldn’t face him when you had a myriad of emotions rushing through your body. You are already made weak by your forbidden feelings, and it would only be made worse once he brings out your dark desire. 

Because you know that you wouldn’t be able to control yourself once that happens. 

A gentle touch on the top of your head brings your attention back to him before your mind gets too far and your insecurities take over. At the same time, his touch calms you down. 

The moment you look into his eyes, everything else seems to fade away. This is no longer a part of your job, and the world outside of this cabin no longer exists. It stops you from questioning your decision of ever getting yourself involved in this whole thing.

“Help me take these off. I can barely move a muscle since I got here,” he calmly claims with a soft chuckle, completely oblivious to the turmoil happening in your head. 

He probably doesn’t even know how his simple request is making your chest dip. 

You bite back the bashful smile that comes to your face. “Oh, poor you. Here, let me help,” you say to him with a tease, even if it falls short once your eyes return to his twitching erection.

You ignore the warm flutters rising in your chest as you reach up to grab a hold of his waistband. With a firm grip, you start pulling his pants and boxer pants together. Which doesn’t really take a lot of effort when they were barely holding on around his hips, already pushed down just enough for him to free his rigid cock from its restraint. Your fingers graze his skin as you keep pulling them down his hips, causing him to tremble under your touch. 

It gives you some self-satisfaction to be able to draw this kind of reaction from him. It feels good to see that you are not the only one getting affected by all the tension. So you tease him further, keeping light contact with his skin as you continue to bring his clothes down his legs. 

“There. Better?” you ask him with a low voice once the intrusive clothes of his are now gone. 

Seeing him sitting there completely naked leaves you breathless. Yet you find it hard to look away. His erection seems to grow harder under your perusing gaze. It causes the urge to touch him to grow stronger. 

“Touch it,” he suddenly says, as if he knows what you are thinking just by looking at your clenched hands. “Please,” he adds almost breathlessly, “I want to feel your hands on me.” 

Words fail you. While his words pull you like a spell. You reach out to touch him, starting from his thighs, where you trace his skin lightly with the tips of your fingers, drawing light shudders through his body. You continue until you finally reach the area between his legs when you finally stop.

His whole body tenses. Anticipation rolls through him as you move your hand closer. Light fingers start hovering lightly on his hard-on, with only a subtle brush or two grazing at his cock. Each light touch you give him only makes you want more. You want to feel his skin under your palm. To feel the familiar pulse coming from his cock the moment you touch him. Yet you resist the temptation just a bit longer. You want to tease him enough to the point that he feels like he is on the edge before you finally continue. 

And he doesn’t disappoint you when he soon reacts. With a soft whimper, Hanbin subtly pushes his hips up, as if trying to guide you into touching him further.

No longer able to deny your own desire, you finally give in and wrap a gentle hand around the base of his cock. 

At your touch, Hanbin reacts with a groan. His chest trembles as he tries to calm himself with a deep inhale of breath. His hips almost come up from the sofa when you start moving your hand, sliding your gentle grip up and down the length of his cock. 

You continue to move, keeping a steady pace and drawing more and more reactions from him. His rocking hips, his rumbling chest as he moans in pleasure, and his hands that are clenching tightly right by his side. 

You soon notice how quickly he loses control of himself once he starts thrusting back up into your hand. Seeing how badly he needs this release, you give a firm grip around his girth and slowly pick up your speed, moving your hand up and down his length until the sound of his laboured breathing fills the room. 

“Fuck, that’s it. That feels perfect,” he groans with his head tilted back. Shudders after shudders rush through him, and you keep up what you are doing now when he doesn’t make a move to stop you. 

Until you start to feel it coming. 

A pulse rises from his girth, pressing against your palm. and you take it as a cue that it is time for him to reach his climax. After giving him a few more strokes, you lean down and tease the head of his cock with your tongue. He lets out a deep groan once he feels your lips wrapped around the tip, covering him with your warm mouth. 

You continue the light strokes along the length of his shaft and reach down with your other hand, touching his balls with a light hand and start massaging him lightly as you begin licking your way up and down his member. As the sound of his moans increases rapidly, you finally take his whole cock into your mouth and slide all the way down, taking as much as you can until he is deep in your throat. 

You suck hard as you push him in and out of your mouth, swirling your tongue around his tip each time you come up and tightening your throat when you come back down to swallow him. With your hand, you continue stroking the rest of his length that you cannot cover, until you feel his muscles tightening, his moans stuttering with heavy breathing, a sign that he is ready to explode. 

With one last stroke, and giving him one last hard suck, you swallow him deeply until it finally happens. His hands come up to the back of your head to keep you in place as he rocks his hips, thrusting into your mouth. It takes only a few thrusts before he finally comes into your mouth. His warm release falls on your tongue and the cavern of your mouth, with some drops shooting their way to the back of your throat. 

The last one makes you gargle, yet with his hands keeping you in place and your mouth still pumping his length, you make no move to pull away. You continue sucking, swallowing every last drop until the only thing that remains is the constant pulse of his blood pumping from the base of his cock to the tip that is still buried in your throat. 

You don’t stop, until he finally has enough and releases you, and you pull away so his cock pops out of your lips and falls back onto his stomach. 

You take a moment to catch your breath. But once your mind is cleared, you realise too late how hot your body feels now, triggered solely by the act of pleasing him. There is heat rising between your quivering legs, and you somehow know that if you reach down, you will find yourself growing wet. 

Hanbin’s hands return to you, touching your face gently so you can look at him again. 

His face seems flushed after his release, with a mix of afterglow and raw, unfulfilled hunger that refuses to go away. The glow in his eyes makes you grow curious at first, until your eyes trail down his heaving chest, stopping at his toned stomach to see his cock, still hard and mostly rigid even after its release. 

“As you can see, seems like I’m going to need a little more than that,” he says with a lack of regret shown in his voice. 

This situation makes you laugh. “A little?” you tease him, making him grin.

“Okay, maybe a lot,” he returns with an easy shrug, while your chest feels heavy at the thought of this continuing into something else. Something more risky. 

You realise that you are not feeling this way because you are unwilling, but because deep down, you know that you want this. You have wanted this for some time, ever since the pleasure which you gain from helping him becomes so addicting and your feelings become deeply involved. 

You can barely hear your own voice under the sound of your heartbeat when you ask him, “So what do you have in mind?” 

Hanbin opens his mouth, only to close it again. “I don’t want to make you do something that you don’t want to,” he says while gauging your reaction. Ever since you started spending close, nearly intimate moments like this with him, you have learned that he can be a bit perceptive when it comes to you. 

And it does a lot of things to your heart when he can easily tell what you need. How he always keeps a close eye on you to make sure to notice any discomfort coming from you. 

“No, that’s not what this is,” you answer him with a soft voice as your hands return to touch him again. You trace your fingers on the inner side of his thighs, stopping before you reach his cock when you finally admit to him, “I want this. I want to do all I can to help you.” 

And help myself satiate my needs, the little voice in your head whispers just as your eyes find him. You hate to admit how hopeful you are feeling as you wait, expecting him to express to you exactly what he needs. 

The same way you always make it happen. It makes things easier for you when he guides you through it. Even though it has never been easy for you to deal with the lingering aftermath.

“Good. Now come up here,” he breathlessly says. The need in his voice feels so intense that makes you feel entranced. Pulled by his demand as you carefully plant one knee and the other on either side of him to get over his lap. 

Hanbin has his hands on your waist, helping you up with a gentle hold. Which only makes it hard for you to remain calm when his touch makes your heart stutter. Butterfly wings fluttering wildly from deep within your chest just from that simple touch alone.  

“What’s wrong?” he asks you, as he notices how you become still under the touch of his hands. There is a deep sigh in his voice. It makes you wonder if he is getting affected by the contact at the same time. 

“Just a bit nervous,” you find yourself admitting to him before you can stop it. You quickly bite your tongue, stopping yourself from suddenly dumping your true feelings and trying to divert his attention. “I never realised how tight this sofa is until we’re both sitting on it together like this.” 

He softly chuckles. “I’ll take care of you,” he says to you gently as he wraps an arm around your waist to hold you up against his chest. “But if you’re not sure about this—” 

“I’m sure. Positively sure about this,” you quickly cut him off. The words just come out of you before you realise it happening. 

A smile grows on his face. One that makes you swoon and you simply melt into his hold. “That’s all I need to hear,” is all he has to say to you, before he surprises you by pulling you to him and pressing his lips on yours. 

You grow tense for a moment and he slows down, giving you a chance to process this over. Maybe push him away if you are feeling uncomfortable. 

Because he never kissed you on the lips before. Not like this. Not with this much passion and tenderness that makes you feel like your heart has grown wings and they are fluttering wildly in your chest. 

Slowly, you begin to relax, returning his kiss with the same gentleness that he is giving you. The kiss continues on, and on, until he suddenly traces your lips with his tongue, and you are made to feel as if you are melting into hot lava. 

Hanbin’s hand slides up your back. His touch feels distant as you have your mind muddled by his hot kiss. Though your body still arches into his touch, as if having a mind of its own. You run your hands through his messy hair, pulling at his locks while you are returning his kiss. 

A soft tug is felt against the skin on your back. The next thing you know, he is pulling your bra off of you. He pulls back from the kiss as he throws the bra away, while you let out a gasp when a cold breeze touches your skin. 

Hanbin licks his lips as he takes a good, intense look at your bare breasts. “All this time, I’ve always wondered—” 

The sound of the door at the front of the bus being opened cuts him off before he can finish what he is trying to say. Then the sound of low chatters and laughter follows. You immediately wrap your arms around yourself when you realise that some of the boys are already returning from dinner. 

Blood is drained from your face at the thought of being caught in the middle of this. “Oh no, I forgot to lock the doors.” 

“It’s okay, baby,” Hanbin hushes you with a soft murmur while pressing a finger on your lips. “They know that we need our privacy, so no one will be looking for us back here. Just remember to keep it quiet while they’re still out there.” 

Before you have the chance to ask what he means to say, he pulls your head down and presses his lips on yours. Once again, he silences your thoughts until the only thing that you can focus on is the present. 

To focus on him. 

For someone who is filled with tension, Hanbin’s kiss feels gentle. As if he wants to take it slow, to take his time while making sure that you won’t break. The soft touch he keeps on your waist makes you realise that he is giving you a chance to set the pace, to allow you to slip away if you want none of this. 

But there is no escaping this when have already given in, allowing yourself to submit completely to your true desire. It isn’t hard to let yourself go when you can feel from the way he is kissing you that Hanbin wants this as much as you do. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders as you allow yourself to take more. You meet his kiss by responding to it with the same fervour. You return every mesh of his lips on yours with your own, then you open your mouth to let him slip his tongue right in. 

Hanbin seizes his chance right away, deepening the kiss by pressing harder. His breathing grows heavier as he swirls his tongue around yours, to which you respond by sucking his tongue and pushing back, drawing a faint sound of a groan rumbling through his chest. 

You feel his hands moving right then, tracing your skin and rubbing at your curves, before finding your bottom cheeks. He covers your soft flesh with his palms and gives it a light squeeze, pushing you further into his chest and drawing a warm pulse deep inside your core when your covered pussy rubs against his cock. 

Feeling delirious from his touch and his hot kiss, you run your hands over the smooth muscles on his chest. The tips of your fingers slide down the thin layer of sweat that is covering his skin, while feeling him growing even hotter under your touch. 

All of a sudden, Hanbin pulls away from the kiss. He narrows his eyes when he looks at you, giving you a look filled with lust. 

His gaze moves away from your face as he moves his hands again. His eyes follow his touch as he traces his way up to your breasts. A tremor is visible in his inhale of breath as he gently presses his palms on your soft mounds, matching the subtle tremors that come awake through your body from his touch. 

As soon as his fingers touch your breasts, your nipples grow hard in an instant, and they seem to grow more sensitive the more he touches you that even a soft blow of the breeze makes you shiver. Once he takes notice of this, Hanbin bends his head lower and takes one of the pulsing buds between his lips. He gives a light suck, then brushes his tongue against it. You grit your teeth at the sensation that he is bringing out of you.

You almost forget where you are or the fact that you are no longer alone as Hanbin scrapes his teeth against your flesh, teasing you for a moment before biting to the point of pain. While you resist the urge to moan, your hand wanders down his chest, feeling his heartbeat stuttering under the tips of your fingers, then you continue your way down to his stomach. 

Within moments, your fingers brush the head of his cock. The need to touch him grows stronger then, and you trace your fingertips along his shaft. He moans against your breast, affected by your soft, yet indecent touch, and it pushes him to move further. 

His hand moves down your waist, pulling the waistband of your panties and tries to slip his fingers into the fabric to touch you. Yet your position above him isn’t allowing him to dive deeper to find the source of your pulsing heat. 

With a groan, Hanbin pulls away. He opens his mouth, and you begin to move back, expecting him to tell you to strip out of your panties. But he stops himself as he looks down, studying the offensive fabric for a brief moment before his hands slip under the waistband and he starts pulling.

“Wait, what are you—” You are just starting to question what he is up to when the ripping sound of the fabric fills the room. He doesn’t tear it into pieces like how you had often read it in those steamy romance novels, and he isn’t doing it so expertly either. His brows are furrowed deeply as he struggles with it and it takes him a while before he can get the job done. But as soon as he has the sides ripped up, he pulls the entire thing off of you and tosses it away while cursing out at it. 

“Are you crazy?” you ask him with your mouth gaping open, while he only exhales sharply. 

His brows are still furrowed when he answers you, “I didn’t want you to step down. Can you please wear something thinner next time so it’ll be easier for me to take it off of you?” 

“You can’t be serious?” you ask him with a baffled laugh. 

“You know I don’t joke about things like this,” he says with a sly grin. He may not seem so serious about it when he said it, but knowing him, you know that he truly meant it. “Now, where were we?” 

You are still baffled by his words that you fail to respond in time, and he takes the chance to move his hands down your hips. Hanbin has one hand holding you firmly at your hips as he dips the other between your legs, tracing the tips of his fingers up your inner thighs while gently guiding you to part your legs a bit wider. 

It feels like a struggle to get into position, but you somehow manage. Then he wastes no time to move his hand upward until his fingertips come brushing at your nether lips. 

Your hips lurch forward to meet his touch as he parts them and starts tracing your hot sex. With how sensitive and needy you have become, it doesn’t take much for him to make you start moaning and panting. 

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs while looking amused, but not surprised. He also seems mesmerised as he looks down at his fingers as he slips then between your folds and easily finds the slick mess that was formed while you were pleasuring him. 

He continues stroking your wet slit, drawing more and more of your arousal so that you can hear the slick sound he makes with his fingers. 

His touch draws a gasp out of your lips, and just when you are just beginning to feel high with pleasure, Hanbin bends down and starts sucking at your breast again, intensifying the sensation further that you simply lose all control of your body. 

Your hips begin to rock, moving back and forth against his touch and in tune with each stroke of his fingers on your slit. As he slides his fingers to find your clit, your moan grows a bit louder, and your movement becomes more erratic as you are drunk with carnal pleasure. 

Hanbin takes this chance to grow bold with his touch, as he gently slides a finger into your tight pussy. He feels you clenching around him tightly in response, and he begins pumping his digit in and out of you, drawing more shudders through your body with each stroke. 

While he works his fingers into your pussy, he uses his thumb to explore around it. He glides the wet digit over your clit and presses down while he pushes the rest of his fingers into your depth. 

You let out a breathy moan. Something that isn’t meant to happen, but the wanton sound comes out with your exhale of breath. And in your effort to try to hold back from erupting in pleasure, you simply fail to control yourself. 

Yet the sound you are making only draws an approving sound rumbling through his chest. He gives you a muffled moan as he keeps his mouth latched onto your breast possessively. 

Beyond the blissful fog filling your head, you can hear the faint sounds of footsteps walking away, bags being dropped, and then the distant voice saying something about leaving dinner behind and getting drinks, before you can hear the door of the bus closing. You can barely recognise those sounds, and it doesn’t register to you what it means at first, until you finally remember that you haven’t been alone on the bus for quite a while. 

Yet now that they are gone, there is nothing left behind but silence. The sounds of your ragged breath and his soft groan are the only ones left to fill the room. 

Hanbin finally releases your breast with the sound of a pop coming out of his lips. His hand quickly comes to where his mouth has been, though it doesn’t mean that he is done working his mouth on your skin. From your breasts, he traces your skin with his hot lips—up to your collarbones, then lingering on the side of your neck. 

Your head falls back. A content sigh slips out of your lips from the way he is tasting you, kissing and nibbling around the spot beneath your ear which has always been quite sensitive.

“I need to be inside you,” he finally asks you with his lips grazing against your neck. He makes it hard for you to respond with his hot kisses pressing on your skin and his fingers moving in slow circles against your slit. 

The pleasure that he wrings out of your body feels maddening. It builds in a slow rise, but is still enough to make you feel high in bliss.

“I—” you sigh out an answer, only to continue with a series of moans as you rock your hips on his lap. Too lost in your wanton need, you grind against his fingers, needing something more. Something to get you to find your release.

“I know that you want it too. I can feel it whenever you try to hold back,” he whispers as he leans back, searching for your truth with his deep gaze looking straight into your eyes. Then he surprises you, making you wonder if you have always been so transparent when he asks, “Don’t you ever feel frustrated at night when you need something but can’t have it? Why deny yourself of pleasure when I’m right here?” 

You hate how right he is and you hate that you can’t even deny every word he just said to you. 

Every time you are done with your carnal favours, you always come out of it feeling unsettled. You have always found yourself struggling on your own in the aftermath, left to spend the long hours in those nights tossing and turning in bed. 

Alone and horny. 

Frustrated because you are left with a need that has yet to be fulfilled. 

Disappointed because you have no other way to find release other than your own touch. Which would never be sufficient to give you exactly what you need.

He pushes his fingers back into your pussy, drawing a low moan out of your lips which he covers with a kiss. “Let me return the favour, baby. You’ve done so much for me. Let me do this,” he murmurs against your lips before pressing a gentle kiss, giving you time to answer, while using every sinful touch he is giving you to push you into opening up. 

Though there is really no need for him to do it, when you have already made up your mind the moment you heard his offer the first time.   

Because how are you supposed to refuse when he keeps saying all the right things? And when you can clearly see how genuine he is being? Or when your body is humming with a wanton need that keeps begging to be released, and he keeps touching you at the right places which gives you carnal pleasure? 

“If you want to talk about returning favours,” you start to answer him with a sigh while running your fingers down his heaving chest, “you should know that I only take what I am owed.” 

Hanbin grins at this. He pulls back slowly while drawing his fingers out of your tight pussy, leaving behind a shuddering bliss in its wake. You watch him bring his fingers up to his lips, each one coated with your slick arousal, which he lowly licks with his tongue until he tastes every last drop. 

The sight of him drinking your essence captivates you so that your head spins, almost making you miss what he says to you next, “You don’t have to worry about that at all. I plan on paying everything that I owe you—” he says before tasting the last drop and bringing his hands back to your hips, “even if it takes all night long to pay my debt.” 

“Really?” you ask him, “I’ll keep that in mind, just don’t take back your words once we begin.” 

You reach down, grabbing his hard erection and finding it already grown back to its full girth while he was pleasing you. You give him a few strokes, drawing a gasp from his lips, before aligning the hard tip of his cock right at your entrance. 

The urge to sit down on his hard-on feels so strong. Yet you fight it just a bit longer. You have known that you have grown awfully wet down below, and there is no doubt a mess has been created there from his sinful touches. You can hear the sound of your slick arousal echoing in the room as you guide the tip of his cock back and forth against your slit, coating him with your essence. 

You continue this until you are ready. Until you feel him pushing his hips upward slightly to press his cock against your pussy. With a shudder, you put his cock right back at your entrance and slowly start lowering yourself on him. The sound of his deep moan erupts as you slowly sink down the length of his cock, stopping briefly when there is some restraint from your pulsing walls, keeping you from taking him deeper. 

“Fuck, so tight—” he groans deeply, while you can only respond back with a soft mewl. “Are you feeling okay?” 

“Mm,” is the only thing that you can give him when words fail you. Spasm after spasm of pleasure rocks through you even when you are both silent, remaining in a standstill while your bodies are slowly adjusting to one another. 

“We need to move, baby. You’re sucking me and we’re barely starting.” 

It feels tight, and your legs are trembling so much that it almost makes it hard for you to move. Even pushing yourself up and down his length seems like an effort. 

But once the series of pulses begins to wane down, you finally gather enough will to start moving. After moving slightly back and forth, nearly rocking against him, you manage to take more of him. Taking him inch by delicate inch until he is completely embedded inside your slick heat. 

With a shuddering moan, you slump forward against his chest. Because the pleasure you are feeling with him buried deep inside you is too much. 

He makes you feel full. His girth seems to be the perfect fit inside you. He also makes you feel a myriad of sensations that you have never felt before even just by filling you up like this. 

Perhaps it has been too long since you have gotten laid that your body responds to him so easily. It has been hard for you to hook up with anyone while you are attached to this job, and while you dedicated your long hours to fulfil his needs. 

Hanbin notices the way your body is taking its time to adjust to the sensation rushing through you. Instead of rushing through things, he tightens his hold on your waist to keep you close, holding you up while you let the shudders pass. 

Hot kisses are pressed on your neck, chin, and then your face, as Hanbin tries to soothe your body to relax against him and help you embrace the pleasure. It takes a moment, but you finally feel the tension in your body lessening in his hold. 

That is when you start moving. 

Starting with tentative rocking at first, before you slowly start gaining more and more confidence just as the rush of pleasure continues to build up and take over. Scooting forward and back, you rub yourself against his length. Then you gather enough strength on your legs and begin moving up and down his length, causing his cock to retreat and reenter you with each move. 

Your carnal desire quickly takes over control, and your body continues to move naturally in a steady rocking. He raises his hands and begins caressing your breasts, using the rhythm of your rocking hips to gently knead your soft flesh. 

“That feels—good,” you moan softly, mewling while arching your chest into him so you can press your breasts into his palms. He takes this chance to pinch your nipples, playing with them by rubbing and rolling them between his thumbs and forefinger, until he draws an intense wave of pleasure rushing throughout your body. 

Your rocking quickens, and with the way you are arching into him, you are inadvertently grinding your clit against his pubic bone, drawing more and more of those delicate shivers of pleasure surging inside you. They rise through your chest and neck, and once your legs begin to quiver harder, you start losing balance and the rocking of your hips grows unsteady. 

His hands come down to your hips, giving you a firm hold to keep you from flailing and falling back from the sofa. Humming softly, Hanbin becomes aware of the way you are shaking on top of him. He gives you a moment to ride your pleasure before he takes over and starts pumping his cock into you. 

“I...fucking…knew it,” he groans, saying each word between each thrust he is giving you. He slams harder and harder, closing his eyes as he takes this moment to savour the pleasure that he is feeling from being inside you.

“I’ve pictured this so many times, and it feels way better than I imagined it would,” you hear him say with ragged breaths. Your hips buck in surprise, but he tightens his grip on your hips and increases the pace of his fucking, pushing all thoughts, any word you wanted to say to him, out the window. 

Your fingers sink deeper into his bare shoulders as you hold on tightly to him through the rough fucking he is giving you. The pleasure feels so intense. But the sudden tightness in your chest has nothing to do with the sparks rising right where you are joined, when your heart seems to swell at his admission.

To even think that he has been thinking of you this way, for wanting this same thing as you do for a long time, seems unfathomable. 

But you cannot say that you had never suspected it before. You still remember faintly hearing him say your name on that first night you caught him pleasing himself, even if you had suppressed this memory to the back of your mind in your denial. Though the rest of the time you saw the signs had been real, when he kept his eyes open each time you assisted him with his needs, refusing to look away from you as he embraced his release. 

You open your eyes just as he does the same. The look you see coming out of his gaze makes your heart lodged higher in your chest. Because beyond the lust, beyond the desire, you see deep longing looking back at you, returning every yearning that you feel for him as he continues to rock his hips in rapid successions. 

Hanbin pulls your head down until your mouths are joined. He drinks in the sounds of your moans with a deep kiss. Your breasts bounce with each hard thrust he keeps giving you. Each hard tip keeps rubbing against his chest, drawing more wicked sensations through your body which pushes you closer towards your climax. 

Right before you can reach it, Hanbin suddenly stops. He trembles as he holds back from his own release, starting from his legs that are locked under your weight to his chest which heaves with deep, ragged breaths. 

You open your mouth to protest and whine, but stop yourself when you look into his eyes. You can see his intention looking back at you and instantly know that this is not over yet. 

He may have denied both of you from your final release, but he is not done with you yet. 

Keeping his hands on your hips, he gives you a firm hold as he rolls your bodies together, flipping your positions until you are laid right beneath him. 

He lifts your legs in the air, sending you sinking into the sofa as he places your legs on his shoulders. In a blink of an eye, he slides his cock back into you, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips when he pushes in with one firm thrust, drawing a rapid set of spasms from your walls pressing around him. As you look up to him, his eyes are dark with lust, clear desire written all over his face when he begins rocking, thrusting in and out of you at a rapid pace. 

“Hanbin—!” you hiss out his name as he continues fucking you to oblivion. 

Yet hearing you calling out his name seems to work like a spell. It draws him to move quicker, pumping deeper inside you, until all that you can feel is his hardness pushing in and filling you up completely to the brim. 

Allowing himself to get lost in his carnal desire, he no longer cares about the noises that he draws out from both of you while he chases for his release. It feels so intense, so hot, so carnal, that you almost feel like you are melting into the sofa while your whole body trembles violently under each of his hard thrusts. 

Being in this position, you are made helpless. With your body being folded under his weight, it makes you feel off-balanced. There is no escape as he drives into you, pushing you into the height of bliss. 

But you refuse to stay still, wanting to give back and push you both further and faster to find climax. Reaching up, you hold on tightly to his biceps. Keeping a steady leverage there as you rock your hips back up, returning every thrust he is giving you with your own push. 

You scream out his name at how good it feels. The pleasure that feels like ecstasy rolling through your body, shooting straight back up to his rocking hips until you feel him shuddering above you. 

“That feels so good. I’m close, baby,” he groans, just as you feel the first wave of your climax building rapidly inside you. 

“Please, Hanbin. I’m also close,” you moan deeply, almost breathless with the intensity of your pleasure taking over your body. “I’m going to come.” 

He reaches down between your rocking bodies without missing a single thrust. His fingers come down right at where you are joined. With a trembling groan, he finds your clit and gives it a pinch. 

Pain and pleasure spark through your body. Your muscles grow tight, clenching around him, before your orgasm comes crashing through your body, one intense spasm to another. Hanbin cups the nape of your neck as he continues to pump into you hard and fast, fucking you through your orgasm until it feels like it will never end. 

“Fuck—you’re so tight, baby,” he grunts. “You’re gripping at me.” 

His voice fades in and out as your orgasm rolls through you. Once again, your pussy clenches tightly around him, and your final orgasm finally pushes him through his own. He comes with a shout, and you feel him twitching inside you before he starts shooting his warm release inside you. His slow rocking carries on with pulse after pulse of his climax until he fills you up with the very last drop of cum. 

Exhausted and spent, Hanbin collapsed on top of you, completely out of breath. While you no longer have the energy to push him away. He waits until all the spasms growing in your bodies start to calm down when he finally pulls out of you. 

While you fall helplessly on the sofa, breathless and high in your blissful fog, Hanbin moves away to grab a clean paper towel before returning to you. 

He takes his time taking care of you, gently cleaning you off from the mess that has been created from your intense lovemaking. Each delicate brush on your skin draws light sparks from your body that still feels sensitive to the touch. Slowly, he draws your senses back alive, yet his soothing touches help you relax with a content sigh. 

Once he is done, Hanbin rolls you over to face him as he falls right beside you on the plush sofa.

As you lie there by his side, in a post-orgasmic bliss and limbs that feel too heavy for you to move, your mind begins to race. There is no stopping it when you start wondering, questioning about what will happen next. You have crossed boundaries as his personal aid, and what you had taken as your personal responsibility to take care of him has now become something else. 

“That was—” you try to speak once you find your voice again. Yet no words come out of you when you have no idea what to say to him. 

“Amazing? Sensational?” he teases you while wiggling his eyebrows. 

You laugh, shaking your head even when deep down, you cannot really deny it. It was amazing. Shocking and fully insane, may also be the perfect way to describe it.

As you lie down beside him in the tight space of the plush sofa bed, you look at his face closely, still unable to believe that what just happened was real. 

“I mean, whatever works. As long as you enjoyed it,” you find yourself saying this to him as you try to process this moment. 

Because everything feels like a dream. 

Except what remains from your orgasm still lingers like a murmur through your entire body, showing you how real everything was. There is the slickness you still feel oozing out of you when you shift closer to him. Not to mention the soreness between your legs that is still present.

Even lying down side by side with him like this doesn’t feel real at all. You may have spent the past few weeks flirting, teasing, and even satisfying each other. Yet post-coital intimacy has never been a thing to share between you. 

Never before tonight. 

“Me? What about you? I thought I was paying my debts to you?” he asks you with a tease, though he seems genuinely curious to hear your answer. 

“I—” you try to speak, feeling a tug at your heartstrings knowing that he cares. “I thoroughly enjoyed it.” Your smile grows when you see him smiling at your answer. “Let’s just say that it was a good start to pay back what I’m owed.” 

Hearing this, Hanbin laughs. 

He surprises you once again when he pulls you to his chest and gives you a kiss, as if it is the most normal thing for him to do. And you return his kiss as easily as though you are two regular lovers. As if this isn’t the first time you are being this close. To be this intimate, aside from the special arrangement that you have made with each other. 

“Can we—” he says breathlessly as he breaks away from the kiss. “Can we continue like this for a while, just until this tour is over?” 

Just like that, any hope that had a chance to bloom in your chest is depleted. Disappointment washes through you for thinking that this actually has an expiration date. Just when you finally have the courage to admit your true feelings. 

But then your spirit is quickly lifted when Hanbin continues to add, “Once we’re done with this tour and later when we’re back home, let’s talk about this further. That is, only if you want to. I just don’t want you to think that I’m only taking advantage of you and forget everything once we’re back.” 

This time, when you feel that unsolicited hope brewing in your chest again, you do nothing to suppress it or hold it in. You don’t even try to deny it. There is no point in denying it now, after all. As it will always be there, no matter what you do to ignore it. 

And now that the final line has been crossed, you know that there is no turning back. 

“Sure, I’d like that,” you whisper to him with a smile, and with a genuine trust knowing that Hanbin always keeps his words to you.

Just like how he keeps his words about spending the entire night making up to you for all the favours that you are owed. 

Hours later, as the bus continues its journey towards its next destination, both you and Hanbin are still huddled up in the back cabin. The room has grown hot, and the passion that you share has yet to come down. 

A soft moan escapes you when he rocks his hips, pumping deeper into you in a series of rapid thrusts, and he quickly presses a finger on your lips to stop you from making too much noise. “Keep your voice down, baby. You’ll wake everyone,” he urgently whispers. 

Being in your current position, with your folded knees sinking deeper into the sofa and your hands barely able to hold your upper body up against his relentless pounding coming from behind, it really is becoming impossible for you to hold back. “I can’t,” you whisper to him between your strained moans. “It’s too much.” 

After a series of orgasms that he has been giving you all night, with only a brief reprieve taken when you took a break to have dinner—specially delivered to you by Shawn and the dancers while you were both busy in the back—it really is becoming a bit too much. 

Your body has taken a lot of his rough lovemaking that a single thrust is enough to ignite the sparks within you. Your skin has grown too warm, your pussy is tender, and your muscles are getting too sore to keep you up. 

“I know, I’m so sorry. Just a little bit more, okay?” he pleads with you as he continues thrusting in and out of you, slowly quickening his pace as he feels the spasms of your climax rising yet again, with your muscles pressing around his cock in a possessive grip. 

You bend forward and lift your hips higher to take everything that he is giving you. While his words echo through your mind as you embrace the building pleasure, reminding you of the promise that he gave to you earlier. 

Until this tour is over. 

Just one more show. 

You hold on to those words to gain strength. But after what you are experiencing tonight, and after witnessing the adrenaline rush that went through him after tonight’s show, the final arrangement waiting for you at the end of this tour no longer seems to be an easy fix. 

“I doubt that it’ll be anything ‘little’ when it comes to you,” you retort back to him with a moan, “you’re insatiable.” 

Hanbin lets out a soft chuckle as he presses a kiss on your bare shoulder. “It wasn’t my fault this time. You started it first.” 

You hide your smile at his words. Because he was right, after all.

After your tryst continued for a while and you were lying on his side, tracing the lines on his bare chest, the memory of his alluring dance came through your mind. It took you back to the moment you were made to feel hot from the sight of him rocking his hips, and how his sweat-covered chest kept glowing under the stage lights while he was dancing, keeping you under his spell.

That memory gave you the urge to start touching him. Starting with the touch of your fingers tracing down his skin, before you replaced your naughty hands with your lips when you traced the lines on his torso with your kisses. And you kept going lower, and lower, reaching the source of his arousal, until he finally snapped. 

“Guilty as charged,” you admit to him with a deep moan just as he pushes deep into you. “I’ll take all the responsibility for this one.” 

“Good. Because I’m not going easy with you this time,” he says, as he starts thrusting into you harder, faster, while you can only take everything until you are quickly pushed towards the precipice of your climax. 

He makes you bite your ripped panties as he keeps pounding into you, stopping any sounds that may come out through your lips as you embrace your climax. Making sure that your voice won’t wake the boys who are sleeping soundly in their personal bunk beds while the bus continues to drive through the night towards its final destination. 

⤑ Author’s Note | This was supposed to be posted on his birthday, but as always, things don’t always go as planned when it comes to scheduling in my case. I’m glad that I still got to finish this because the idea had been stuck in my head since I’ve been following B.I’s journey through his European tour this year, and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it if I didn’t write it down right away. I hope you enjoyed this thrilling experience. Please leave kudos/likes, comments, and share/reblog it if you liked what you read. Any other form of feedback is also welcomed. Thank you for reading!

— © 2023 @yoonia (Tomoe Dia), all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind, translations, and unsanctioned adaptations are not allowed. | First publication & writing on Nov 10th, 2023

[techtimechronicles24]

🇺🇸 Let's embark on a journey through the captivating history and unique features of the Commodore Amiga 1000—a groundbreaking computer that left an indelible mark on the world of computing.

💾 Introduced in 1985, the Commodore Amiga 1000 heralded a new era of multimedia computing, boasting advanced graphics and audio capabilities ahead of its time. It quickly became a favorite among creative professionals and gaming enthusiasts.

💻 Designed by Jay Miner and his team, the Amiga 1000 featured revolutionary architecture with custom chips for graphics and sound, offering unprecedented performance. Powered by a 7.14 MHz Motorola 68000 CPU, it also ran the unique AmigaOS, renowned for its multitasking capabilities and graphical user interface.

🐕‍🦺 The Amiga 1000's case design was inspired by a lunchbox, giving it a distinctive, compact form. Notably, it's the only model featuring the short-lived Amiga check-mark logo. The case's interior even bears the engraved signatures of the Amiga designers, including Jay Miner and his dog Mitchy's paw print.

🎮 Standout features included the ability to display up to 4096 colors and play stereo sound—unmatched by other personal computers of its time. The Amiga 1000 left a lasting impact, influencing digital art, animation, and video editing industries.

🕹️ A powerhouse for multimedia production, the Amiga 1000 enabled creative exploration for artists, musicians, and video creators. It was also a gaming pioneer, with iconic titles like "Defender of the Crown" and "Lemmings" showcasing its graphical prowess.

🎨 In the summer of 1985, Andy Warhol received his first Amiga 1000 home computer from Commodore International and became an enthusiastic brand ambassador. He famously created digital artworks, including a portrait of Debbie Harry using ProPaint software onstage at Lincoln Center, demonstrating the Amiga's capabilities to a live audience.

🌟 Today, the Commodore Amiga 1000 remains a beloved classic among retro computing enthusiasts, embodying the spirit of innovation and creativity of the 1980s computing era. Let's celebrate this iconic piece of computing history!

[cuubism]

my kingdom for a kiss upon your shoulder

Stockbroker Hob x Musician Morpheus, 80s AU, part 3 / 3

By the time they get downtown, night’s properly fallen. Morpheus leads him through the Village until they reach a narrow side street, where they descend a set of stairs into an actual properly underground club called White Horse.

The bouncer clearly recognizes Morpheus, and they’re let in easily. Hob takes everything in as Morpheus leads him backstage by the hand.

The place is small, with tables and some open space for dancing; low lighting, and a bar along the back wall, but altogether pretty low-key. Granted, it’s not too late yet, so it’s still mostly empty. One thing Hob does note is that there’s not really a stage, just a mic and amp setup that’s level with the rest of the floor. Anyone standing in the front could just reach out and touch Morpheus as he performs. Intimate.

“This is where you ‘promote depravity’?” Hob asks as Morpheus brings him ‘backstage’—really just a hall at the back of the club—and Morpheus actually lifts his hand to his mouth and bites him. “Ow!”

“Be respectful,” Morpheus chides. He leads Hob into what could maybe be considered a ‘green room’ but is more like a combination office-break room-random storage space servicing the whole venue. There, he finds a bottle of already-opened white wine in the small fridge, uncorks it and takes a sip directly from the bottle.

“Real professional operation going on here,” Hob notes, as Morpheus offers him the wine, and Morpheus finally cracks a smile.

“It’s not Madison Square Garden. But you will find the usual crowd sympathetic.”

“I’m glad you brought me along,” Hob says, quite genuinely. “I wanted to hear you sing the moment you said you were a musician.”

Morpheus’s smile is genuinely sweet. “Hob, I do believe you are obsessed with me.”

“You could tell?”

Morpheus’s expression softens further. “Do you know,” he says, no longer teasing, “I cannot remember the last time someone was… simply interested in me, the way that you are.”

“Do you know you’re the most interesting person I’ve met in a very long time?” Hob says.

“I enjoy your attention,” Morpheus says, gaze dipping down to Hob’s lips, and back up. He steps closer, panther-like. Takes the wine back from Hob, and takes another sip, lingering on the mouth of the bottle.

Hob raises an eyebrow, even as his pulse jumps in his throat. “Don’t you have to get ready for your show?”

“We are here already.” Morpheus sets aside his wine. “I do not need much more time.”

And he kisses Hob, hungrily, tipping Hob’s head back. His mouth is tart with the wine, his kiss needy and dominating. He’s clearly comfortable here, the king of his domain, willing to take whatever he wants. And Hob is thrilled to be what Morpheus wants.

Morpheus steals in even closer. Slips his hands under Hob’s shirt, tugging it out from his waistband. His hands are cold, and goosebumps rise along Hob’s belly and sides in the wake of his fingertips. Hob lets Morpheus push him up against the office door, growing quickly hard in his jeans. Before, Morpheus had wanted Hob to fuck him. But Morpheus is so alluring and powerful here that Hob is seriously contemplating the reverse.

“Would you let me have my way with you?” Morpheus murmurs. It’s almost a purr. “I think that you would.”

Hob thinks that Hob would, too. But as Morpheus leans in again, gaze fixed on Hob’s lips, a knock sounds at the door.

“Oi! Morph! None of that, we’ve got sound check in five.”

“Morph,” Morpheus mutters irritably.

Morph, Hob thinks with glee.

“Go on, Morph,” he says. “You’ve got music to play.”

Morpheus nips his lower lip in chastisement, but does open the door with a sigh. The grizzled older man waiting in the hall rolls his eyes when Morpheus pulls Hob out with him, but gestures them on. “Boytoy can come too, just don’t make me late.”

“As you insist,” Morpheus says, but is very long-suffering about it. It’s all very entertaining to Hob. And he makes sure to snatch the wine bottle off the side table before Morpheus drags him off.

-

Morpheus’s wrangler-slash-stage manager—or whatever he is in a place this small—whom Hob learns is named Merv, manages to get Morpheus to the makeshift stage to test the mics and so on. Hob worries it might feel awkward to hang around and watch, but it’s not, really—mainly because there’s no one really here yet. A few people have trickled in and are hanging around the bar, but the place is mostly empty for now.

Hob gets the sense it’s a place mostly frequented by regulars, people who feel comfortable here and know the deal. That seems to suit Morpheus. It’s more like a secretive club, rather than a massive stage with strangers to impress. He’s clearly comfortable here. Hob had thought he was comfortable at the party, or at least making himself comfortable, asserting his right to exist anywhere—but this is different. It’s his habitat. It makes Hob smile to see.

Oh god, he’s feeling fond. He’s going to be absolutely ruined when this night is over.

He puts it out of his mind for now. He wants to enjoy the present. He’s done a terrible job of staying in the moment, these past few years. And there’s little point in setting yourself up for the future if you don’t enjoy the present.

By the time Morpheus and Merv are finished with soundcheck, the place is significantly more busy. Morpheus greets a few people who pass by, but doesn’t seem particularly close to anyone. It gives Hob a moment of pause. A fault in his assumption of Morpheus’s comfort. He’d been figuring Morpheus’s freer lifestyle also came with more entangled relationships—but he’s reconsidering that assumption.

He’s... maybe reconsidering that about himself, too. Sure, Hob can get into any high-end party on the street… but nobody at those parties talks about anything other than sex, drugs, money, all the simple pleasures. If he mentioned feeling aimless, like all that success wasn’t even meaningful… he’d be laughed out of the room. Even if, deep down, others might feel the same.

Hob had been assuming he and Morpheus didn’t have much in common. But maybe he was wrong.

Having finished with the setup, Morpheus comes back over to him. “Are you alright?”

“Just thinking,” Hob tells him, shaking himself out of his head. “You all ready for your show now?”

Morpheus’s eyes glitter. “Yes. And I think you will enjoy it.”

Oh, Hob’s sure he will. That’s if he fucking survives.

As the lights go down, Morpheus steps away from him again, back to the mic. He holds Hob’s gaze until the stage lights break his line of sight, but until then he shines. Hob wants to pounce on him. Instead he holds that desire close, simmers in it, and enjoys the glory of Morpheus in his element.

At the first low, melancholy notes of the song, grating bass and backing piano, the crowd finally falls quiet and draws in. Morpheus waits until he has most of their attention and then presses his lips to the mic, as Hob had imagined, and pulls them the rest of the way in with his voice.

And God, his voice. Hob had only gotten a hint of it in that low, intimate song Morpheus had sung directly into his ear. The full power of his crooning words strikes Hob right in the diaphragm, resets the pace of his breathing, taps into the rhythm of his heart.

It’s pitch dark, now, and all he can see is Morpheus, Morpheus and the distant lights speckled high up on the ceiling that look like stars. Morpheus is, of course, the brightest of them, and Hob is utterly transfixed, watching his long fingers on the mic, the movement of his lips, the elegant crane of his neck. He thinks of that mouth under his, and that throat, and the rumble of Morpheus’s voice when he speaks. God, he is beautiful.

Morpheus doesn’t pause when the first song ends, just sort of slides right into the next one, though he does glance over at Hob and wink. Hob, realizing he’s just standing there dumbly, not moving, loosely holding that bottle of wine from the back room, takes a long drink to steel himself.

It doesn’t work, of course. It only makes him think more about Morpheus’s mouth. But thinking about Morpheus’s mouth is pleasant. Thinking about Morpheus, in general, is lovely. Hob lets himself sink down into the spell Morpheus has created here, this enchantment of baritone darkness, lets himself float on the currents of Morpheus’s voice and the memory of his clever hands in the shower and the sounds of his pleasure.

Morpheus’s music is meditative and hallucinogenic. The crowd is relatively quiet, but totally in Morpheus’s thrall. Hob doesn’t comprehend a single lyric of any of the songs. He might be dissociating. It’s lovely. Why’s he been doing drugs again? Why’s he been going to meaningless parties? He should have been here, in Morpheus’s temple, basking in the radiance of him.

He realizes distantly that he’s finished the wine. He didn’t notice, too busy watching Morpheus and just kind of lifting the bottle mechanically to his mouth. He sets it aside, sways pleasantly on his feet, and catches Morpheus’s eye again just as he’s dropping into the final bars of what Hob thinks must be his last song. Morpheus’s lips curl into a smile, and he swipes his sweaty hair back from his forehead, baring his throat as his neck cranes.

God fucking damn Hob to hell.

And then Morpheus steps far enough into the crowd to grab Hob by the arm and tug him back towards the makeshift stage. Hob stumbles after him. Morpheus wraps a hand around the back of his neck, twists the other in the front of his shirt, eyes glittering with so much life even as the supporting band plays on in the background without him.

Hob’s whole focus narrows in on him. He gazes at the sweat gleaming on Morpheus’s throat, the dark smear of his lips, his heavy-lidded eyes, feels Morpheus’s palm on the back of his neck like a collar dragging him forward, and when Morpheus pulls on him he just goes.

And the thing is… Hob’s always just a little bit… careful, when he’s in a new place. At a party like the one where he had met Morpheus, no one really cared, and the ones who might were too drunk or high to notice anything going on around them. But when he’s somewhere he doesn’t know he plays it closer to the vest. Because Wall Street is still a boys’ club, and this might all be legal now but that doesn’t mean Hob won’t be kicked out of his firm on his arse, and he’s always been too much of a realist, too much of a survivalist, to edge too close to that cliff.

But as Morpheus drags him into a kiss, someone in the audience whoops.

Morpheus is smiling against his mouth, and Hob finds himself grinning, too, and then laughing. Part of it is this floating feeling of seeing Morpheus so unburdened, at least for this brief moment, and part of it is just— just pure joy. Pure joy and freedom in Morpheus’s beautiful voice and his lovely mouth and the live wire of his performance.

Hob curls a hand around his hip, kisses his neck, tasting the sweat there, murmurs into his ear with all the fire that’s inside him, “I want you.”

Morpheus shivers under his hands. He gives the audience an absolutely theatrical bow, and then disappears into the shadows, towing Hob behind him.

-

They tumble into the back hall to the echoing sounds of applause in the main venue, and Morpheus pulls Hob into him, crashes himself up against the wall and yanks Hob’s mouth to his.

Hob moans as he kisses him, absolutely drunk on the high of Morpheus’s performance, his fluidity, his raw appeal. He wants him. He’s desperate for him. He pushes Morpheus’s hips into the wall, grip tightening, and Morpheus gasps.

“You were perfect,” Hob says. Morpheus looks down at him from under his lashes, panting, sweaty hair stuck to his forehead. “You were the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Here,” Morpheus says in response, pulling Hob to him so their erections grind against each other. “I want you.”

“In the fucking hallway?”

Morpheus nods deliriously, already tugging on Hob’s shirt, but Hob takes him by the arms and stills him as clarity cuts in. Lord knows he wants this as badly as Morpheus does, but the idea of just… just fucking him in the back room or something feels wrong. It’s not what Morpheus deserves.

“No,” he says, “come home with me.”

Morpheus whines. “It will take too long—”

Hob drags a hand through Morpheus’s hair. “I’ll call a cab. Won’t make you wait long, darling.” He kisses Morpheus’s neck. “I want to show you how you made me feel.”

“Oh.” Morpheus tilts his head to let Hob mouth his way up under his jaw. “How is that?”

Hob tugs him away from the wall and leads him down the hallway. “Come home and find out.”

Turns out there’s a side entrance that will let them get out without having to go back through the crowds—it’s technically an ‘emergency exit’, but no alarm sounds as they tumble out into the alley. Morpheus hangs off him, leaning drunkenly on Hob even though Hob’s certainly the one more intoxicated between the two of them, as he flags down a cab out on the road and bundles the both of them inside.

Once they’ve set off for Hob’s apartment, Morpheus leans against his side, whispers in his ear, “I believe I am doing better on this night than I did after my last show.”

“Bit of an upgrade?” Hob says, grinning.

“A bit. I’ll be terribly disappointed when I have to lower my standards again.”

Don’t, then. Hob thinks. Don’t go back. Stick around.

“Seems like you need better standards.”

“Mm. Perhaps.”

Traffic is heavy, and the drive feels particularly long with Morpheus leaning against his side. Hob can smell the light tang of sweat from his performance, and Morpheus’s chaotic hair is brushing his cheek, and he’s slipped one hand between Hob and the seat and has begun secretly playing with his waistband, tapping his fingers up and down Hob’s back like he’s practicing a scale. It’s maddening, and almost makes Hob wish he’d just caved and fucked Morpheus back in the green room like he’d wanted.

But when he imagines, instead, laying Morpheus out on his bed, worshiping him, bringing him to near-dissociative bliss the way Morpheus had done to him with his music, proving, if he can, that this is more than just cheap sex—then, he knows he made the right choice.

When they finally pull up in front of his building, he pays the cabbie, bundles Morpheus inside, and by the time they’re back in the endlessly-mirrored elevator he can’t resist anymore.

He pushes Morpheus up against the wall, kissing him deep, pinning him by his hips. Morpheus moans and caves to his touch. Hob slides his hands up under Morpheus’s shirt—no, it’s Hob’s shirt, his, Christ—framing that narrow waist. He pushes their hips together, breath catching at the press of Morpheus’s erection against his. And for a few minutes, during the elevator’s dizzying ascent, he loses himself to Morpheus’s clever hands in his hair, his lax body, the electricity buzzing off him after his performance.

When the doors slide open on Hob’s floor, Morpheus says, smiling sharply, “Do you think you can pick me up and carry me?”

“That a fantasy of yours?”

Morpheus nods, arms draped over Hob’s shoulders, and so, gamely, Hob hefts him up, hands under his thighs. Morpheus squeaks and clutches at his shoulders. He’s tall and gangly but somehow Hob manages it, gets them through the door to his apartment and into the bedroom. And in that moment he feels the same way he’d felt when he turned from making coffee and saw Morpheus sitting on the kitchen counter like he belonged there. His apartment, his life, washed into a haze and only Morpheus left. Like coming home to home the way it was meant to be, like he’s carrying not just some hookup, but his lover to bed.

He lays Morpheus out on the bed, which is still rumpled and unmade from that morning, unties Morpheus’s boots and socks and slides them off his feet as Morpheus watches, rapt, hair fanned across the pillow. He does his jacket next, urging him to lift up enough to slip it from his shoulders, then his jeans, unbuttoning them with care and tugging them down his slim legs. Finally, his shirt, tossing it somewhere on the floor—and then he just has Morpheus, the full glory of him, and he has to take a breath to calm himself.

“Are you coming?” Morpheus asks, raising an eyebrow, when Hob just hovers at the end of the bed.

“You’re just really beautiful,” Hob admits, and Morpheus smiles, a true, pleased smile, the slightest tinge of a blush rising to his cheeks.

“You truly think so,” he says.

“Yeah, of course I do.” I’m not blind, Hob thinks, but it seems like it’s more than that. Like, maybe, Morpheus wants Hob to see him, not just the shape that he’s in.

Morpheus reaches for him, and so of course Hob goes, kicking his shoes off along the way. He settles between Morpheus’s legs, and Morpheus’s thighs come up to bracket his hips, hands framing his face, and he pulls Hob down into a kiss, long, deep, and sweet. The way Morpheus moves under him is heavenly. Hob thinks he could kiss him forever.

Morpheus tugs at his shirt, and Hob lifts up to pull it off over his head. Then Morpheus’s hands are all over his chest, running through his hair, over his shoulders and down to his belly. It’s a quick, feverish, addicted touch, and Hob can’t help but bask in it. God, the idea that Morpheus wants him so much… it’s heady. He could never get used to it. But he wants to get used to it. Oh, imagine getting used to it.

Morpheus’s hands go to the button on his jeans, then undo the zipper blindly as Hob kisses him again, deep, swiping his tongue into his mouth. Hob groans at the release of pressure as Morpheus takes him out.

“Normally I would detest any interruption to my performance, but there was much of me that wanted you to simply do whatever you were thinking when you were watching,” Morpheus confesses. Hob grinds into his hand, his lovely hands with those long clever fingers, already undone by him, and by the revelation of what Morpheus was thinking about during his set. “Drag me off and have your way with me.”

“I was enjoying your performance too much to interrupt it,” Hob says. “Distracting an artist at work? How selfish.”

“How selfish,” Morpheus echoes, eyes glittering. “Perhaps you ought to be selfish.”

“Oh, I’m plenty selfish,” Hob says, and to prove it, kisses him again, taking his mouth, delving deep and pressing Morpheus down into the sheets. His lips are soft, his mouth giving, he kisses back with easy pleasure, one hand still lightly working Hob’s cock, the other twining through his hair. So often Hob’s kissed just to get to sex, but with Morpheus it’s a pleasure in itself. He moves against Hob with passion and skill, that clever mouth that weaves spells with his singing now set to catching Hob and holding him there for his own pleasure.

Hob almost gets lost in the music of him—he could easily let his arousal build just grinding into Morpheus’s body, moving over him, but he wants more, and Morpheus wants more. So he pauses, catching Morpheus’s mouth in nipping kisses as he moves off him, shucks off the rest of his clothes and reaches for the condoms and lube he keeps in the bedside drawer.

Morpheus watches him with dark eyes, tracking the movement of his hands. He looks hungry. It’s an absolutely addictive look on his face.

Hob settles himself back between Morpheus’s legs. “Like this, or—?”

“Like this,” Morpheus says. “I want to look at you.”

Oh, Hell. Hob is not going to survive him. He wants that too, though, wants to see Morpheus’s face as he comes, and kiss him as he fucks him.

He hovers over him as he presses a slick finger to his entrance. Morpheus groans, fingers wrapped around the back of Hob’s neck and tangled in his hair for balance. He angles his hips up into the contact, pushing himself down onto Hob’s finger. Wanting, needy thing. He’s so lovely, he’s perfect.

“I want,” Morpheus demands, voice rougher, now, a register lower, “you in me. You will fill me so well. I know it.”

Hob has to swallow hard to clear his throat at that. “Patience,” he manages.

“Now.”

“Patience.” But if he wants it rougher Hob can do rougher.

He pushes in a second finger and Morpheus cries out. “Yes, yes, Hob—”

His words peter off into a groan as Hob works his fingers in and out, flushed with heat over the sight of Morpheus writhing at his touch. It’s tempting to just give into Morpheus’s demands to fuck him now, but it feels so important, so so important, to make it good for him. He wants Morpheus to cry with pleasure. Wants to take care of him, this strange thing he’s plucked from the wind.

Morpheus keens as Hob presses down hard on his prostate, thighs shaking, arms wrapped tight around Hob’s shoulders. Hob kisses him, catching the sound of that beautiful voice in his mouth. “Now,” Morpheus pants, lips against Hob’s. “Now, please—”

Hob kisses him again, long and lingering. Then sits back to roll on the condom. Morpheus watches him, eyes dark, chest heaving, sweat prickling along his temples and curling his hair. That intense gaze stays trained on Hob as he leans back over him, bracing himself by Morpheus’s shoulders on one arm as he lines up and finally, finally, pushes into him.

He has to bite his lip hard to steady himself at finally being surrounded by Morpheus’s tight heat. Morpheus tips his head back on the pillows, gasping, clutching at Hob’s shoulders. “Yes,” he breathes. His fingertips dig into Hob’s skin, legs wrap around Hob’s waist.

Hob presses his face into Morpheus’s throat, breathing in deep. “Fuck. You’re perfect.”

“I knew you would fill me well.” Morpheus’s voice is right in Hob’s ear, and a shiver runs down his spine. God, Morpheus’s voice, Hob will never get enough of it. “I imagined it, in the shower. How you would feel, holding me down to the bed. Fucking me. The way you’d dreamed of it.”

“Fuck, Morpheus—” Of course he can’t just sing like sex, he’s got to keep speaking it directly into Hob’s ear too. “That’s what you want? Want me to show you everything I was thinking about? Everything I was imagining?”

“Yes. I would have everything—” his voice breaks off into a moan as Hob gives an experimental thrust. He continues, more hoarse— “everything that went through your mind.”

Hob thrusts into him again, harder this time, shifting Morpheus up on the bed. Morpheus moves against him, pushing back onto his cock. Together they find a rhythm, Hob rocking into him, Morpheus meeting each thrust. They move together and it’s everything Hob fantasized about when he carried him to bed, it’s hard and intense but full of feeling. It feels right. Morpheus feels right against him, and when Hob kisses him, it doesn’t feel like a fleeting thing, it feels like it should last. He wants Morpheus to stay.

He drinks in Morpheus’s panting moans, pushed from his lungs every time Hob nails his prostate. Loses himself in the heat of Morpheus’s pleasure, of his body. Groans as Morpheus pulls him in with both hands on his ass, urging Hob ever deeper. Morpheus has no more alluring words then, only calls of “yes, yes, more”, only whimpers and whines as Hob fucks him. In between breaths Hob finds himself saying nonsense, endless streams of perfect, perfect love, you’re so good, you feel so good, tasting the sweat on Morpheus’s neck. It’s perfect. He’s perfect.

Morpheus tangles a hand in his hair, brings Hob in for a searing kiss, much like he’d done at the concert. Hob feels it like a claiming, Morpheus leaving a lipstick mark across his mouth deeper than a bruise. The shock of pain as Morpheus’s grip tightens in his hair yanks Hob over the unexpected edge of orgasm, and he gasps into Morpheus’s mouth as he comes.

Morpheus comes too with a stuttered cry, his spend smearing over their stomachs. Breathing hard, world spinning, Hob collapses onto Morpheus’s chest. Morpheus’s heart races under his ear.

Morpheus pets his hair as they both come down, not unlike he’d been doing when Hob woke up that morning. When Hob’s finally gathered himself enough to lift his head, he finds Morpheus already studying him. His dark lipstick is smeared across his cheek, eyeliner smudged under one eye. He looks utterly glorious.

“Well,” Morpheus says, and the word would be a rich purr were it not for how he’s still out of breath, “that was satisfying.”

Hob laughs. “Oh, yeah? Satisfying?”

Morpheus’s lips curl up in a smile. “Remarkable.”

“Oh, fuck you.” Hob rolls off him as Morpheus laughs. He gets out of bed, but can’t resist leaning in for a quick kiss before he goes into the bathroom to dispose of the condom and grab a wet cloth. Morpheus preens into the kiss. And Hob thinks, it’s nice to do that. Kiss him easily like that. It’s nice to feel like Morpheus isn’t going to just disappear, like hookups so often do when the fun is over.

After he’s cleaned them both up, he lies beside Morpheus in bed again. Morpheus rests against him, fingers tapping up Hob’s side like he’s playing a piano. He probably can play piano, come to think of it. Maybe Hob will get to keep him long enough to see it.

Perhaps it’s a mistake, hoping Morpheus will stay longer. It will only make it hurt more when he leaves. But Hob can’t help it. He’s always been greedy.

“Stay for breakfast again,” he says, hushed in the darkness. “I’ll even cook for you this time.”

“In your empty kitchen,” Morpheus muses.

“Well, we’ll have to get groceries. I can actually cook, you know. Just... never do.”

Always too long at work, Hob, and not for necessity but for enjoyment of the game of it—or maybe to not have to think about how this could be just at his fingertips, if he made space for the risk of it, the vulnerability of it. The much greater complexity of wanting it.

“I’ll look forward to it, then,” says Morpheus. His lips curl up in amusement. “But don’t expect help.”

“No, I can only imagine you sitting on the counter, sipping your coffee and sampling things off a spoon. Like a prince.” It’s an appealing image, Morpheus sat there and setting the whole kitchen aglow.

Hob wants it. And not as a temporary pleasure. But having slipped past the madness of arousal, and the euphoria of Morpheus’s performance, it’s a more frightening thing to want. Hob’s life isn’t like Morpheus’s, his underground clubs and tiny secret worlds where he can be whatever he wishes. The space he’s grown himself into is different. The person he’s grown himself into is different.

“Did you ever consider pretending you were… different?” he asks quietly.

“Perhaps when I was a teenager,” Morpheus says, picking up on his meaning. “But I would not have survived if I did.”

“You’re barely surviving now,” Hob says before he can think better of it.

Morpheus’s lips slant in a sad smile. “Yes, well. Even more so.” He lays a hand on Hob’s chest, plays with his hair. “Are you pretending?”

“Maybe.” Hob’s not ashamed of who he is. Never has been. But he’s built all he has so carefully that it’s hard to contemplate risking it all imploding. He could keep Morpheus a secret, that is assuming Morpheus wants to be kept in any capacity in the first place. But he doesn’t deserve to be squirreled away, hidden like Hob is ashamed of him. “Never had anything worth changing that.”

Morpheus hums in thought. “I’m hardly preoccupied with social change,” he says. “But, once, my sibling, in a very rare moment of wisdom said something that I occasionally think about. ‘If no one takes the first step into the light, then the light will never fall on us.’ Perhaps we are beyond the first step. But there is still the next.”

Hob, too, is hardly preoccupied with social change. But perhaps he ought to be. Perhaps he ought to be doing… more, than this. If not for any grander purpose… then at least for himself. For how he felt, watching Morpheus sit on the kitchen counter, outlined by light. For the simple sake of wanting.

“Sounds wise,” he says, and Morpheus’s lips tip up in a wry smile. 

“Will you change, then?” he asks. “Stop pretending?”

“Don’t know,” Hob says, honestly. It’s hard to want to commit to the risk. But, just last night, he had been lamenting to Morpheus that he’d been feeling bored, aimless, unfulfilled. Perhaps it’s time for a change. Perhaps there’s more to lose here, in this one moment, than there is in the entire rest of his life. “Maybe with a good enough reason.”

He tucks a long strand of Morpheus’s hair behind his ear. Morpheus looks at him, eyes almost aglow in the dark. He seems at peace now, in contrast to his malaise and despair the prior night. Hob wishes he could keep him that way. Keep him happy.

“Stay and I’ll cook for you,” he says again, softer.

“I agreed to already,” says Morpheus, but seems to pick up on the added inflection in it. He captures Hob’s hand where it’s still playing in his hair, tangles their fingers together. “What will you make for me?”

“Anything you want.”

“Hmm.” Morpheus considers. “Crepes, perhaps.”

“Wow. Start easy, why don’t you?”

“With lemon and sugar,” Morpheus continues, unrepentant, “and strawberries.”

“Alright.” Hob can’t help smiling at him, though. “I’m making the grocery list.”

Morpheus plays with Hob’s fingers, pressing his lips to Hob’s knuckles. He looks up at Hob from under his lashes, eyes dark. God, he’s devastating like that. “How long would you have me stay?”

“Long as you want?” Hob says. He feels very daring. He can feel his pulse in his throat. “Suppose I have work on Monday, but, you know.” It feels insignificant now. How’s he supposed to walk into the office next week when he knows he could be here?

Maybe he shouldn’t. Maybe he really shouldn’t.

“The financial markets shan’t manipulate themselves,” says Morpheus, with a smirk. Hob’s going to get flack for his career every day from this one, he just knows it. Fond flack, but nevertheless.

He thinks he can live with that.

“They really won’t,” he says, and Morpheus chuckles. “Someone’s got to crash the economy.”

“Someone has to,” Morpheus agrees. Then, “Hm. I’ve changed my mind. It does sound somewhat entertaining. There’s a certain appeal in… bending the world. If one has the stomach for the results.”

Hob’s not sure he does have the stomach for it, not anymore. The race has become tiring. The coffers full of sand. “Should put that in a song.”

“Perhaps I will.”

“Don’t ever stop making music, Morpheus,” Hob says, full of sudden fervor. He remembers what Morpheus said last night. About being very tired. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget it. “Even if it doesn’t fix anything.”

“I don’t think I would survive it,” Morpheus says.

Hob is feeling very invested in Morpheus surviving. The feeling isn’t quite so desperately sad as when he was drunk, but he still can’t stand the thought of anything happening to him. Especially at his own hand.

“Stick with it, then,” Hob repeats. Stick with me.

Morpheus tips his face into Hob’s hand, so Hob is cradling his cheek on the pillow. “I have not had crepes in some time,” he observes. “Not had someone make them for me, anyway.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to it,” Hob says. Having Morpheus around to cook for… a small thing shouldn’t feel like such a privilege, but Hob has become so used to people, to feelings being ephemeral that the thought of Morpheus here for another morning feels so special. He wants to seize it and not let go.

“Perhaps…” Morpheus says, a questioning, hesitant look on his face, “you might make a habit of it?”

Hob’s heart soars. It should be embarrassing, to be so affected, but it feels so good. “Yeah,” he says, smiling too hard to manage anything more eloquent, “yeah, okay.”

Morpheus’s expression opens in a gorgeous, light smile. He kisses Hob’s palm. And Hob draws him in, helplessly, into a hug.

He imagines coming home to an apartment that instead of being empty has light and music in it. Imagines Morpheus sprawled on the couch picking lightly at guitar strings as Hob makes actual use of his kitchen cooking dinner. Sitting on the balcony sipping wine over dinner and not worrying about Morpheus leaning too far over the railing. Listening to Morpheus write music late into the night, the city lights bright through the windows. Morpheus’s jewelry on the nightstand and his makeup cluttering the bathroom. Morpheus curled up in bed wearing one of Hob’s t-shirts.

It feels good to want again, even if it’s frightening.

It feels even better to have.

[saberamane]

...so I have a very specific excerpt from a mid-work fantasy I had today.

All you need to know is Desmond is a bartender at a new bar, conveniently owned by Ezio's family in modern times (assassin's may or may not exist, it really doesn't matter). Giovanni still is the head of a bank and very Important and has decided to have a Very Important Bussiness Dinner at his son's (Ezio) restaurant. It's an authentic Italian place, of course, with all the recipes made by Maria. Friday nights have live, Italian music.

On this specific night, their live performers have failed to appear, and Giovanni's Very Important Bussiness Dinner guests are expecting authentic Italian cuisine and live music. Things are looking bad.

Desmond, newly hired bartender and trying to stay on his new bosses good side (Claudia and Federico also work in the restaurant, but Ezio is the 'main' boss), overhears their predicament and goes all 'I know a guy...'

Cue cousin Clay, who is a classicly trained pianist, being unexpectedly called by his little cousin for a favor.

Clay is not what the Auditore were expecting when he shows up. Ripped jeans, leather jacket, pierced ears, combat boots... Desmond did not mention Clay worked as a bouncer at a club, and dressed like he was in a biker gang...

'Don't worry, I'll fix him up before the performance.'

Clay, in the staff room, trying to squeeze into Desmond's spare uniform.

'Your clothes sizing makes no fucking sense Desmond. Tiniest waist I've ever seen on a man, but with a fat ass and thunder thighs to put a woman to shame. What the fuck is your gym routine?' The black dress pants Clay is currently trying to fit into are distressed where he is trying to pull up the zipper. The waist is just not big enough. The button isn't going to hold, the zipper won't stay up, the seams are straining...

Meanwhile, the Auditore siblings are huddled in the kitchen, eyeing their fathers potential new clients from the little windows in the kitchen doors. They look impressed, so far. The decor is high-end, the wine fantastic, the food both authentic and good...

The entertainment though... Playing the piano is all well and good, but the singer is usually singing in Italian... Would their father's potential clients still be impressed with an English singer??

Clay and Desmond set up on the stage, Clay looking... mostly presentable. There aren't many professional musicians that play classical music with that many studs in their ears...

But Clay plays beautifully, and Desmond can sing? And it's in Italian??

The night goes a lot better than expected after the last-minute canceling of their usual musicians. Desmond and Clay wow the patrons of the restaurant, their father's new clients sign on with enthusiasm.

Desmond and Clay are offered to perform every Friday, should they wish it. It earns Desmond not only an extra check each week, but also an uptick in his tips. Clay, even hating playing something as prissy as piano, can't say no with Desmond's big doe eyes staring at him.

And well...Desmond's employers are worth coming back around to see... Especially when Clay catches the eldest Auditore son eyeing him up and own covertly.

And besides... Clay would do nearly anything to help out his baby cousin. Even something as embarrassing as playing piano.

Especially if the promise of a certain man's attention is on the table.

[steddiewithachance]

Will You Still Need Me?

Summary: Steve Harrington is avoiding telling his professional-musician-boyfriend, Eddie, that he's going deaf because he's worried about what will happen when he does.

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Or Read on AO3

June 13, 1992: A month later

Steve startles awake when he hears something fall on the other side of the apartment. The bed’s empty, he notices. That's disappointing. Steve brushes a hand across Eddie’s side of the bed to feel how cold it is, to check how long Eddie’s been up for, but he pauses when he feels a piece of paper where his boyfriend should be. Did Eddie leave a note? That goof.

Steve snatches it off the pillow and holds it over his face.

Steve, 

I was going to recite to you this big long monologue of all the reasons I love you and all the ways you’re important to me, but maybe it’s better if you read them. Don’t want you to miss a single syllable of my devotion to you, Sweetness. So I made a long cheesy trail of notes for you to follow, don’t make fun of me for it.

Yours Always,

Teddy

Steve is still half asleep so it takes him another groggy read-through to understand what he’s looking at. 

He sits up and does indeed see a trail of little pink notes, photographs, and rose petals twisting around the bedroom, under the door, and presumably down the hall. And Steve’s heart is pounding because, well he doesn’t want to get his hopes up or anything, but this sappy romantic gesture sounds like a precursor to something bigger. He’s frozen in place, too afraid to move. He eventually scoots off the bed and picks up the first note. 

‘I love you for engaging in my interests even though I wouldn’t blame you for not caring.’ It’s paired with an old photo of a DND game with the kids. Eddie’s DMing with Steve on his lap. 

The next few: ‘I love you for always trying to make little kids in shopping carts smile when we pass them at the store.’ and ‘I love how you can tell if I wasn’t in the shower long enough to condition my hair to your high standards so you make me get back in and do it right. Sometimes I take quick showers just so you’ll lay into me for it.’

The notes and photos are a lot more random than Steve had anticipated. ‘I love the way you will patiently explain the rules of various sports to me even when it’s been seven years of watching games together and I still don’t get it.’ There’s a photo near that note that was taken by Robin of the time Steve and Eddie swapped clothes at a sleepover. Eddie’s posing in Steve’s letterman jacket and tiny gym shorts and Steve is giggling in the background dressed in leather and denim. 

Steve gets to the door and realizes none of the notes have mentioned music or anything related to Eddie’s shows at all. Steve wonders if it was a conscious decision. Wonders if Eddie was being sensitive about Steve’s hearing problem. He swings the door open to see the trail continue all the way down the hall and around the corner. He huffs and keeps reading. There are notes about being a good “mom”, one about Eddie cherishing the nights they cook together. There’s a note about Steve’s smile, what it felt like to decorate their first apartment together, how Eddie loves that both of them have taken to calling Wayne “Pops”, but none about music. When Steve finally rounds the corner he sees Eddie sitting on the couch nervously.

“This was actually a terrible idea because I had to listen to you slowly shuffle down the hallway reading my notes. My anxiety is at an all-time high!” Eddie announces dramatically and Steve laughs. 

On the coffee table in front of him, there’s a big bouquet of flowers and a basket full of snacks and skin/hair care products that Steve loves. This is all a fucking lot. Positive attention makes Steve’s skin crawl. Eddie pats the couch and Steve slowly ambles over. He sits down and proceeds to not know what to do with himself.

“Stevie,” Eddie digs into his pocket and sets a little green velvet box on Steve’s thigh. 

Oh boy. 

“Obviously we can’t do anything legal, but I still want you to know that I wanna be yours forever. A tangible promise of loyalty. Is that okay?” 

Steve covers his face. He doesn’t know how people handle being proposed to in public. It’s mortifying enough in private. All he can do is nod. He feels Eddie prop the little box open. Inside is a golden ring, patterned with fancy flourishes. It reminds Steve of ornate picture frames in art galleries. He likes it a lot. Steve holds out his left hand.

Eddie beams, slips the ring on, and looks like he’s relieved it fits.

“Mwahaha. You’re mine now.” Eddie proclaims with the tone he uses to voice villains when he plays DND. Then he grabs Steve’s left hand and pushes the middle and ring finger down while pulling out the thumb, pointer, and pinky. Steve’s pinky finger barely stays up on its own but Eddie gives him a coy smile.

“This means ‘I love you’ in sign language.” 

And that’s the first expression Steve learns in ASL.

[the-ria]

I'm back at it again with kiljoys headcanons and AUs 😩

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This is my idea of a poster or a cover for the story's epilogue. Continuing the plot of TFK:California, we follow The Girl and her life in the zones long past the death of the Killjoys and a few years after the raid on Battery city. She tries to find a new purpose and a new place in the desert while being haunted by memories of people from her past

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ALSO while I was looking for reference pictures for this piece, I found Grace's page. She's built a career as a professional musician and it just so turns out that she released a new EP just the other day :D So consider checking it out for yourself @ graceclark.music (insta)

[twopoppies]

https://chng.it/6NCwN8XhTL

Hello, Gina. This is a petition so safeguard artists mental health 🤍

Hi love. Thank you so much. 🩷

The entertainment industry, acclaimed for its glamour and stardom, is equally infamous for the enormous pressure it exerts on the mental health of artists. Resultant issues such as stress, anxiety, depression, substance misuse and even suicide are alarmingly high. According to research, performers are 2-3 times more likely to suffer from these issues compared to the general population.

In recent news of Liam Payne's tragic death as many others, the entertainment industry needs to be held accountable and be responsible to the welfare of their artists. We seek to implore lawmakers to create legislation safeguarding the mental health of artists within the industry.

Such a law would necessitate regular mental health check-ups, adequate rest periods, and the presence of mental health professionals on-set, including any ongoing support during their career. It will ensure a healthier, safer, and more conducive working environment for artists to cultivate their talents reducing phycological distress. This would also include early interventions to protect and minimise before it's too late. Furthermore, the increasing rate of musicians who die before the age of 35, is concerning. We need to act now!

The artist's role is invaluable not just in the world of entertainment but also in society. Let us ensure their protection and wellbeing. Your signature could be a lifeline for these talented individuals, contributing to a larger movement of mental health awareness and care in industries worldwide. Please, sign the petition.

Sign the petition here

[badkitty3000]

What job do you think Five would have pursued had he never time travelled (if he ever decides to leave the academy)?

This is a very interesting question and I had to think about it for a while. I love this concept that he would have a real, real-person job if his life had gone in a different direction, and it's one I have not put much thought into before. But I like it!

So, for the sake of argument, I'm going to say that if he never time traveled to the future, then maybe the team would have been a little closer and his relationship with Viktor would have healed some wounds. In which case, Viktor wouldn't have been so angry and there would be no 2019 Apocalypse.

With that little pesky problem out of the way, Five and the rest of the gang would have been left to pursue their own lives, etc. We already know Diego went into the police force, Allison became an actress, and Viktor was a professional musician. Luther was busy on the moon, Ben was busy being deceased, and Klaus...well, who the hell knows what Klaus was doing. So, that leaves Number Five.

It's weird to think of him doing something ordinary, like working in an office, or even as a professor as some have theorized before. Unfortunately, we don't ever get a chance to see what his interests or passions are, since he jumps when he's 13 and then the rest of the time is spent trying to save the world. We only know he's exceptionally smart and good at math, but it seems fair to say that if he never ran away, he'd develop some real hobbies and interests that would maybe turn into a career of some sort. What if he found he loved botany and gardening and became a biologist or opened his own plant nursery? What if he got really into cars and became a mechanic or auto engineer? Maybe he would have started to pay attention to Grace when she was tending to their wounds and decided medicine was his calling? It's kind of cool to think about the possibilities, but also sad since he never got that chance to find out, even for himself.

Which brings us back to the original question. I have only ever written Five as either being a hitman of some sort (either Commission, Mafia, or independent) or retired. Not very creative on my part for sure! But in one of my stories, I do have his grown son that has similar powers to himself run a tech company using their teleportation powers as the basis for it. I never go into detail as to what it involves, mostly because I'm not that smart to come up with something cool like that, and also because I figure most readers don't care.

However, I am going to make that my answer for Five, as well. We know (well, maybe not know but most of us assume) that Five used his knowledge of his powers as the basis for developing the briefcases for the Commission when he founded it. I would think he would still use that same knowledge to develop some sort of technology that would (hopefully) better the world, if he never had to create the Commission in the first place. Something very heavily science-based, very complicated, and very cutting-edge. Perhaps even incorporating time travel into the technology itself. Basically, he would be a much cooler, non-asshole, hot version of Elon Musk or Steve Jobs. He'd probably be famous and be on the cover of Fortune 500 or Scientific American or something, rolling his eyes at the interviewer's questions while checking his watch and sipping his coffee.

So, there you have my very convoluted answer to your very good question. If you were looking for a much more every day type job, then I would say he might open his own coffee house/bar that also offers axe throwing 😄