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talesofesther · 5 months

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when the world sleeps | the stitches

Astarion Ancunin x Reader

Summary: Small tales of private and precious moments shared with Astarion, when the world still sleeps.

Today's tale: You're trying to stitch back together your shirt, Astarion must intervene to save the day.

A/N: A collection of little stories that will be released sporadically, in no particular order. A place for me to store all the sweet little ideas that lurk in my mind about this darling pale elf. Feel free to send requests for any moments you'd like to see. <3

Masterlist

It was an accident. A split second of distraction that got the blade of your enemy slashing into you. It cut through more cloth than skin, you didn't even need a healing potion. But it was your favorite shirt.

You've never been very adept with the needle and thread. Having lived your whole life with the privileges that rested inside your family's estate back in the city, you didn't have much need to mend your own clothes back together whenever they tore apart.

And now you were paying the price for the unlearned skill.

The night was quiet, most of your companions had already retired for the night. Yet you sat crosslegged on a large pillow in your tent, soft candlelight illuminating just enough so you wouldn't prick your fingers.

Scratch insisted on laying beside you, his soft white fur warm as it rested against your leg.

The silence of the night was most welcome, when the days were as hectic as they have been lately.

As you passed the thread through the fabric of your shirt, needle piercing it quite clumsily, you couldn't help but think the stitches looked too far from each other. Or could it be too close? Should it vary depending on the thickness of the fabric?

"Darling?"

You jumped at the sudden voice—soft as it may have been—yanking the needle back and not piercing your thumb only by an inch. You cursed under your breath.

"What in the hells are you doing?" Astarion's choice of words sounded strange in the tender tone of voice he used.

You looked up to see him staring down at you with a confused frown on his eyebrows. The flickering fire of the candles coming from beside you kissed his features ever so faintly, making him seem like the remains of a dream. Dark red eyes, silver hair that reminded you of stardust. What a goner you were. And to think he chose you, too; if anything to warm his bed on cold nights.

"I'm… mending my shirt," you shrugged, with a sheepish smile on your lips, briefly lifting the shirt and needle in your hands.

Astarion opened his mouth only to close it again. He blinked, and shook his head. "You're doing anything but that." He stated, a little exasperated. "Have you ever done this before?"

You shifted your gaze from him, to the shirt on your hands, and back to him. "… Not really, no."

Astarion scoffed, "Well, clearly not."

"Come on it's not that bad." You raised a brow, finding his indignation at your lack of skills rather amusing.

"Not that bad? That thing is gonna tear itself apart with the first movement of your arms." Astarion gestured wildly as if you'd personally offended him, and started walking to the other side of you that wasn't occupied by Scratch. "Move over," he simply said.

You shuffled to the side a little, giving him space on the fluffy pillow beneath you. It was a tight fit as he sat down, his thigh flush with yours.

"Hand it over." Astarion wiggled his fingers and you did so quietly, handing him your shirt along with the needle and thread.

He mumbled something about basic skills and how you'd be lost without him. You didn't pay much mind to it, instead, you were rather enraptured by the way his fingers worked; precise, gentle, and deftly, with not a single wrong movement as the fabric of your shirt molded between the digits. He sews the pieces together from the inside, the needle hardly piercing, more like caressing its way through. It was evident he had done it many, many times before.

You inched closer, and you only realized you had done so when Astarion's movements halted. Needle hovering in the air as his shoulders tensed. His lips pursed when his throat worked through a gulp. You followed the motion, breath fanning over the skin of his neck, you were almost certain you'd seen goosebumps there.

It was a beat, and then Astarion was back to his work. But it was enough to bloom a warmth to your chest, that maybe you had the same effect on him that he had on you.

Leaning your cheek against his shoulder, you asked; "where did you learn to do it so perfectly?"

A quiet chuckle fell past the elf's lips, though it held no amusement. "The clothes we wore were hardly a concern for Cazador, as long as we looked presentable enough to lure people back for him." He frowned, a bitterness flashing through his eyes as his knuckles grew even paler with the way he gripped your shirt, "If we showed up with a torn shirt or ragged pants, that was on us. Even if it were his orders that caused it." The last words were low and forced out, as if the mere thought of them had thrown Astarion back into those dark streets and into the arms of people who didn't care if they ripped him apart.

You wished there was any amount of comfort or honeyed words that you could tell him that would erase the memories altogether. But there wasn't. All you could do was kiss his shoulder and brush your fingers over his arm until his grip relaxed again. Hoping that your love would seep through your pores and melt into his skin.

Astarion leaned the tiniest bit towards you, his lips brushing your hairline in a silent thank you. It felt… strange, how you were able to bring him back from the depths of his mind so easily.

Moments were spent in silence, until the pad of his thumb brushed over the freshly mended corner of your shirt, admiring his work; it was barely perceptive. If you didn't look too closely, you wouldn't even say it had been slashed through with a sword at all.

"Wow, you're good," you whispered, following the same path he had traced with your own fingers. Feeling over the fabric.

A low hum came from the vampire beside you, "I know."

You bit onto your lower lip. Your fingers tangled with his when he didn't pull away, all timid and tentative yet brimming with affection. "Maybe you could teach me someday, and I could mend your clothes for you, too." It went beyond just torn fabric, he knew it, you knew it.

Astarion ducked his head, he hesitated, yet he squeezed your hand quite tightly. "I would like that."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Astarion’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #astarion baldurs gate #baldur's gate 3 #astarion imagine #astarion x tav #astarion x female reader #imagine #fanfic #angst #fluff #astarion fanfic #my story #astarion ancunin #when the world sleeps

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jksprincess10 · 2 months

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White face and black eyes || Joel Miller x reader

Summary: You explore an abandoned mall and Joel discovers one of your kinks.

CW: Sub/dom dynamics, reader is hinted at being younger and not knowing much of the world before so age gap, mask kink, pet names (darling, honey, baby, little girl), praise kink, Joel is rough, a bit of knife play, fingering, bj, riding, publicish sex in a post-apocalyptical setting, reader is cock drunk, minimal editing and all mistakes are mine.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

“I’m goin’ to the right, you’re goin’ to the left. We join in the middle.” Joel ordered, flashlight over his gun as he looked around carefully, an eagle watching a potential pray.

“Fine.”

Part of your exploration consisted of visiting this old mall to find anything of substance. Sadly, in the midst of the panic, everything was mostly taken. Still, you sometimes found something interesting and new to you. Like this little cabin that looked like a time machine you found after walking for a bit. It was a rectangular cabin, the opening covered by a threadbare curtain. Withing the faded letters, you could barely distinguish the words “photobooth”. You were foreign to this concept, being born not too long before the modern world ended.

Carefully, you stepped inside the weird cabin. It was a tight fit. Inside was a weird broken screen and a tiny seat, that could only fit two people max. You pressed the buttons, and a weird mechanical voice made you jump.

At almost the same time, the curtain opened, and you were met with an elongated white mask with an absurdly long dark mouth and equally black eyes. You muffled a scream under your hand. You heard Joel’s familiar chuckle under the plastic mask.

“What the fuck, Joel!”

“Did I scare ya, darlin’?”

“Yes!”

But the more you looked at him, the more something strange stirred in you. Joel was an attractive man, you weren’t blind. But the familiarity of seeing his flannel-covered chest and broad shoulders mixed with the foreignness of the mask on his face made you feel… aroused.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?”

“Fuck it.” You mumbled and pulled Joel in the cabin. “Sit down.”

It was a tight fit, but curious, Joel obeyed. His spread thighs were taking up the whole space as you kneeled in front of him.

“Keep it on, please.”

His rough hand grabbed the base of your neck and the menacing black holes looked down at you as he tutted. “S’enough orders, honey don’t ya think?”

“S-Sorry.”

“Good.”

You looked down at his gun hidden in his holder as he took his pocketknife in his hand, using the pointy end to keep your chin up. “You gonna listen to me now?”

“Yes sir.”

Joel’s free hand undid his leather belt and you watched in wonder as he freed his strained cock. His hand circled its girth, pumping it a few times.

“Ya want it?”

You let out a desperate noise and with a dark laugh, he freed you, letting you go wild. You wrapped your mouth around his aching cock, tasting the headiness and saltiness of him. You moaned around him, the vibrations of your voice sending shivers down his spine. You kept your eyes strained on his masked face, a mixture of arousal and fear pooling in your panties. You shut your thighs together, desperately trying to gain some friction as you bobbed your head up and down his cock, giving him your best performance. You could hear his muffled grunts under the mask and feel his body tensing, the knife long abandoned on the floor.

“You wan’ more of that cock, yeah?” He grabbed the base of your neck to pull you away, watching as a mixture of spit and pre-cum escaped your lips. You nodded dumbly and let him pull you up, before stripping off your pants and panties.

“Mask kink, huh?” He observed as two of his thick fingers collected some of the wetness on your slit. “Didn’t know ya were such a dirty lil’ girl.” Joel’s calloused digits circled your clit at a practiced pace, and you fell against him, made limp by pleasure.

“Please Joel, can I have it?” You asked between moans.

“Don’t wanna hurt ya.” There was a hint of sweetness in his voice, despite him treating you so roughly minutes ago.

“I can take it!” You whined.

“Yeah? Then don’t ya fuckin’ whine if it hurts, baby.”

You straddled his hips. “I won’t.” You promised.

His big hands held your hips as he let you sink down on his cock, slowly.

“Look at me.”

Your gaze fixated on the white face and black holes that replaced his eyes, your mouth parting slightly as you let him stretch your walls, molding your body to his girth.

“Good girl.” He grumbled while he bottomed out. “Now stay still and le’me fuck ya.”

Joel’s hips moved at a painfully fast pace, letting you no time to adjust. Pain and pleasure melted together in your core and if you weren’t worried about getting killed by strangers in an abandoned mall, you’d scream.

“J-Joel… C-Can I see your face now?”

He slowed his hip thrusts. “Thought you didn’t wanna see it, huh?” He let go of your hips with one of his hands and slipped the mask off, letting it fall on the bottom of the cabin.

“I-I wanna see how y-you look at me while you fuck me, Joel.”

He grabbed onto your hips again and his dark gaze held yours as he thrusted up roughly, hitting that spongey spot inside of you that made you see stars. You struggled to keep your eyes open, but you held your gaze to his honeyed brown orbs, your mouth falling open in a silent scream. Your orgasm was destructive, and his was equally as intense as he stilled inside of you, hot spurts of cum painting your walls.

You fell limply against him, and your mouth slotted onto his, tasting Joel’s new familiarity.

“We might not have found much, but I want to keep the mask.” You chuckled against his lips.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x yn #joel miller x y/n #joel miller tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x f reader

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juniefruit · 4 months

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-{ model bf hyunjin }-

I had writer's block for a bit, but I have written this! ((Also, happy almost friday))

Word Count: 955

Sometimes he takes you along with him to events & photoshoots. For most shoots he can’t take you on set, but just having you in the same city calms his nerves a bit. Paris is one of his favorite cities to visit.

One of his favorite moments to indulge in is the quiet calmness found in the morning. Sun rays shine through the luxurious hotel blinds and cover the room in a staggered array of beauty. You two lay, a tangle of limbs, within the pristine white sheets. Hyunjin tries not to make a sound as he admires your effortless beauty before you wake. Your cheek is squished against the pillow, which he thinks is cute.

On his free day between shooting, He invties you to a walk on the riverside. In a world that is so fast-paced, he has learned to appreciate the seemingly ordinary. You hold his hand as the light breeze passes by. The emerald green leaves flutter up in the branches of the trees that line the walkway. As you walk, A swan meanders through the slow current of the river. It catches your eye, with its elegant white feathers and curved neck. With your free hand, you point to it. Hyunjin comments, ‘It’s not as beautiful as you, though.’ Always jinnie and his cheesy compliments.

Sometimes, he will send you concept photos or videos of a shoot he’s on for your thoughts. Honestly, he just needed an excuse to text you. He’ll ask, ‘Do I look good here? What about this one?’ In what universe does he ever not look good??

He loves taking you to the fanciest, most elegant restaurants. Even if it’s not really your vibe, he’ll try to persuade you. He’ll pay for everything, help you pick an outfit, whatever it takes. He wants you to be comfortable and safe in your own skin.

He is your #1 supporter when you’re going shopping. If you thought your best friend persuaded you to buy more than you need, you haven’t met Hyunjin. He gives out compliments like crazy. They don’t have your size? He will find an employee to order it for you. He will never hesitate to get you what you deserve. Window shopping is nonexistent, because he will drag you into the store instead of just peering through the window.

Hyunjin doesn’t get jealous for every little thing, but he does notice when someone crosses a line, and he’ll step in. He is an expert at reading body language. It’s something you’ve always loved about him; he is observant and notices the small details. He can tell when you need him a little more than usual, or if you need some space to think.

In public, he puts on his ‘business’ persona, which is classy, cool, calm, and collected. The aura he radiates is astonishing. He exudes elegance. However, in the comfort of your own home/hotel room, he has a tendency to be clingy and sugary sweet. There’s a reason he’s the drama llama! He’ll pout, whine, make random noises too. Sometimes when he’s bored he’ll strike a model pose or two in the living room just for fun. He constantly has to be touching you in some way; back hugs, shoulder/neck/waist rubs, anything :(

This is especially escalated when he can smell your presence. He loves the smell of you. With perfume, without, or just your regular shower gel has him go crazy. He’ll nuzzle his face into your neck, and play around with the collar of your shirt.

Your high rise penthouse is chic, with the perfect mix of modern yet ‘old money’ vibes. White and black with accents of warm gold. Kkami has definitely made himself feel at home, too. With no concept of personal space, that dog will leap into your lap at any given chance. Particularly while you’re lounging on the couch or on the bed. Hyunjin jokes that Kkami might like you more than he does. Especially since Kkami does growl when Jinnie gets too close.

He lives in those designer shirts, like the white ones that simply say Gucci, Versace, etc. on the front. Just a simple house shirt and sweats when he wants to be comfy. His shoulder-lenth hair is slightly disheveled, and small strands lay across his forehead and fall into his eyes. His lips are so glossy and pouty, just begging to be kissed. So you do. His head is resting against your shoulder, so you have to do some maneuvering. His response? A small hum and the most delicate smile gracing his face.

After going shopping, he makes you do a ‘fashion show’ in your living room with all the stuff you bought. It’s silly, but he loves it as a couple’s activity.

He loves to create matching couple outfits. Not that cliche cringry kind though. His vision is that your outfits complement eachother in aesthetic ways. Spending as much time as he does with the fashion industry means that he’s picked up a style tip or two. In no way does he see you as incompetent, he will always let you wear whatever you want or say no. But, he just can’t help but try to elevate your style and maybe put his own touch on the things you wear. It’s like his own type of love language. And it’s not like his advice is bad, either. At this point, both of your closets have influences from each other’s styles, and maybe some stolen pieces as well. It goes back to the part where he loves your scent. Scarves especially, because they hold your perfume so well. He will hold it up to his face and it instantly fills him with thoughts of you.

If you liked this, see my masterlist !

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids drabbles #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshot #skz x reader #hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #hyunjin x y/n #skz imagines #skz thoughts #stray kids thoughts #hwang hyunjin imagines #hyunjin imagines

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llunapastell-reads · 6 months

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ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ || ʙ.ᴄ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ :･ bang chan x afab reader ɢᴇɴʀᴇ :･ hurt/comfort | fluffy | smut ᴡ.ᴄ :･ 3.7k ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs :･ profanity | sexually explicit | unprotected piv

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ :･ Amidst the mess of an neglected office space, your boyfriend's forlorn piano evokes a wave of painful recognition. You wonder how much dust could collect on your shoulders before Chan realizes he's forgotten you too.

✧.* ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴠɪᴇᴡ ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀ ʟɪꜱᴛ & ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪɴɢ

An abrupt thud sends a spurt of pain through the crown of your head. It startles you more than anything, breaking your concentration on the drudgery at hand—cleaning out a long-forgotten cabinet nestled in the alcove of your home office. Well, to call it your office isn’t entirely accurate. With all of your boyfriend’s music equipment overtaking the majority of the space, it feels more like a foreign than familiar territory now. You do have your own desk opposite Chan’s makeshift studio setup, right below the room’s largest window so you can draw in the natural lighting. But it’s been a long while since you last picked up a sketch pad.

Hell, it’s been a while since either of you had the time to do anything in this neglected corner of your apartment.

A mumble of curse words falls under your breath as you soothe where you’re sure a decent bump will form later. A small break feels befitting now that the hoard of art supplies is somewhat organized, and you should probably grab an ice pack for good measure. The task has been looming over your head for too long, which is why this rare lull in your afternoon was dedicated to tidying up the room that has been usurped by clutter and storage.

Work has left you drained of all your free time and willpower, and when you did muster up a speck of vigor, it was usually in the name of chores or other responsibilities. Chan was even worse, all his time being spent practicing as he and the guys geared up for another comeback. His life has always been dominated by his craft—the man wouldn’t have it any other way—but you couldn't help but take note of how your moments together had been reduced to fleeting exchanges between late-night studio sessions and pressing deadlines.

You blink away the thought and cast bleary eyes over your shoulder. The beams of light that flood in through slatted blinds appear almost tangible in the air, so much so that you’re tempted to try and grasp one in your hand. Instead, you trace their glowing pathways across the room, where molten colors of gold and clementine reflect off the keys of a piano on the opposing wall. Each ivory piece seemingly ignites in the setting sun’s radiance, and a deep sigh alleviates some of the wistful feelings that thrum in your chest at the sight; it was only a few years ago Chan had bought that secondhand piano from a local shop after months of contemplation.

He somehow always talked himself out of the commitment, too humble to seriously entertain the thought of spending money on himself, especially when there were always bills to pay. Your relationship was fresh then, and even though the secret of mutually bashful affection had only been confessed a few weeks earlier, you were bold and convinced him a bit assertively to think of it as a business expense. The purchase meant aid in refining his skills, to enhance his contributions to his team: the beloved group of friends who looked to him for leadership with nothing but an unwavering confidence that he never quite felt worthy of. That’s what persuaded him to spend the one-and-a-half paychecks it required—the idea of altruism. The recollection of crinkles that formed in the corner of his eyes from unabated joy seems just as vivid as the luminous piano you’re shuffling over to from across the carpet.

Kneeling before it, your body sinks to eye level with the weighted keys. Hesitant fingers hover just above them for a long moment, as if one touch will disturb the magic of its glow and transform it back to an abandoned piece of dusty equipment. You’re not sure what possesses you to purse your lips and blow instead, but it’s a marvel to watch the tiny dust particles suspended in the air become glitter in the sun. A tiny smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth the whole time you tend to the instrument with a delicate touch, taking time to wipe down each crevice and bend. It was pathetically sentimental, but the keys were left for last. It just felt disrespectful to invoke any sound without deliberate intent. Once satisfied, you sit properly on the bench and admire your work.

It tickles to consider the extent of abuse these well-worn keys have endured at the hand of its enthusiast owner. The piano was the very first thing he had unpacked when you moved into this apartment a couple of summers ago, your first place together. Almost instantly it felt like home, even with blank walls and no furniture, aside from numerous stacks of cardboard boxes. The only thing occupying the room was Chan with a pencil tucked behind his ear to notate every tweak made to the piece he was composing. Sometimes, you’d catch him grinning to himself once the right notes fell into place and the room would suddenly appear brighter. His presence transformed any space into a beautiful sanctuary.

Hands clutch your chest as if it will somehow quell the sharp pang of longing deep within. Have you been so busy and distracted you hadn’t noticed the depth of the void that had stealthily crept into your lives? No, it wasn’t obliviousness. You just didn’t want to hinder him, especially when he was dedicating himself so earnestly to the career he’s built, to the team that needs him. You lied to yourself, said it was fine that you couldn’t remember the last time you ate a proper meal together, or got lost in a late-night conversation that stretched into dawn. It’s only when your head falls against the sternum do you acknowledge the wetness collecting in your waterline. The relegated instrument before you breeds a deeply discomforting feeling of recognition in your stomach.

Maybe you should just stay here, see how much dust collects on your shoulders until he notices. It’s painful to consider if he’d notice at all.

A melody he penned resonates amongst your distraught clamor of thoughts. The recollection is fuzzy, like it’s being filtered through an old phone line. Your hand moves on autopilot until a subtle and delicate sound emerges from the slow press of a key, summoning a wave of calmness to fall over you. Like a hushed secret, the note seems to linger, its tone rich and full, as if time itself has slowed down by its enchantment. With another caress of a key, and then another, every nuanced vibration somehow finds its place in the tranquility of the room bathed in hazy light.

Your rendition wasn’t perfect, but it felt good to get lost in the memories that surface from the music. You picture those tufts of soft curls bobbing along to the rhythm, chiseled features set in fixated concentration before he lost himself in the song. Chan’s passion was palpable, but what mesmerized you most was the graceful arc of his hands that moved with a fluidity that spoke to years of diligent practice. Hands of a god, Jisung would say when you watched them in the studio sometimes.

Your heart does a somersault when your playing is accompanied by the distant sound of a lock unlatching, followed by subdued creaks of floorboards. A stifled chuckle approaches from the doorway and pulls you from the daydream. “Please, don’t stop,” Chan smiles once your eyes meet. “I love this song.”

The man is a vision; dampened strands of hair appear dark against the flush of his skin, a result of what must have been an intense dance practice. A display of dimples almost distracts you from noticing how his shirt clings to the broad expanse of his shoulders. The black fabric does nothing to conceal the swell of biceps when he folds his arms over his chest. As he steps past the threshold of the space, the contours of his profile suddenly shimmer in the light. There’s a hitch in your breath, and your cheeks must appear flush too, but for a totally different reason.

“I don’t remember how this part goes,” you admit and bashfully turn your attention back to the instrument. Your fingers falter as you hit all the wrong keys, pulling huffs of laughter from Chan at the dissonant sounds you’ve produced.

All your muscles tense once he closes the space between you. Tone arms wrap around your body so Chan can guide your hands to the right keys. His breath tickles the shell of your ear when he leans in over your shoulder, the rhythm calm and in complete contrast to the erratic thumping of your pulse.

“I’ll show you,” the low octave of his voice incites goosebumps.

With tender patience, Chan guides your overlapping hands through the first set of notes. He hums along to the melody, harmonizing with the song while your interlaced fingers explore their way across the keys. How you yearned for this, the feeling of his warmth enveloping you—it excited every atom of your being, elicited a kind of vibrating sensation under your skin. You lean back against him and nuzzle the crook of his neck. A deep inhale has you feeling dazed, the mixture of his musk and the scent of smoky vanilla like a potent drug.

“Y/N, you’re not paying attention,” your boyfriend coos.

Just one more inhale before you can respond. The corners of your mouth curl upward as you ask how he can tell.

“You’re making me do all the work,” he tsks with feigned disappointment.

“I’ll give you a reward for your efforts,” the plush of your bottom lip ghosts over the edge of his jaw, feeling the muscles clench beneath. An open-mouth kiss presses into the bone and you’re unable to resist swiping your tongue along his skin. It tingles when Chan’s muffled groan reverberates against you. It only encourages you to suckle at the spot you’ve claimed to relish in the salty taste.

You’re so focused on him, it doesn’t register that the music has ceased until you feel your hands guided to your chest. With your fingers still intertwined, Chan helps you knead at the flesh over your tank top. You exhale a satisfied sigh when he makes you cup your breast and squeeze. One hand fondles while the other creeps down the expanse of your torso, tantalizingly slow. You have to face forward and focus on the silhouette of your figures just to try and regulate your breathing.

“Do you know what my favorite instrument to play is?” His voice is velvet in your ear, his mouth hot on the expanse of your skin. A shiver is the only response you can manage.

Teeth nip at the junction where your shoulder and neck meet. There’s so much unabated hunger behind it, the pleasure of sudden pain pools in your gut. Chan gently pushes your thighs apart and forces your fingers to trail up the skin of your thigh. A high-pitched whine falls past your lips as your hands brush over where you need his touch the most. There’s no point in attempting to hide how much you want that sweet friction on you, and he knows it. Your boyfriend chuckles with your flesh still in between his teeth.

“It’s you, baby. You make the prettiest sounds,” his words get lost amongst the sound of your labored breaths. Hips reflexively buck forward to meet where hands hover over your clothed mound and you can feel the wetness through the cotton fabric, already so damp from just his teasing. Chan hums with satisfaction from your undoing, then rewards you with soothing licks to the indents left behind from his bite.

He’s all over you but not close enough. Only thoughts of wrapping your legs around his hips and feeling the weight of his tongue in your watering mouth flood your mind, washing away all traces of doubt and insecurity. He must be thinking the same because there isn’t a speck of resistance when you shift your body around and tackle him onto the carpet. The action is impatient, ravenous, and completely welcomed by your boyfriend if his bruising grip on your waist is any indication. Your eyelids slip shut with the connection of lips, finally slotted together after what felt like a stagnant eternity. One eager lick at the seam of your mouth is all the prompting you need to part your lips and allow him entrance. With each brush against your tongue, tiny spurts of electricity pulsate down to your core.

“Y/N… Miss you so much… It hurts,” Chan’s confession comes out like a pained moan in between sloppy kisses. Something lurches in your chest hearing the rasp in his voice. You pull away just enough to discern the furrow in his brow, the desperation behind his widened brown eyes. He felt it too, didn’t he? Amid the long and grueling hours of work, your boyfriend must have agonized in your absence, just as you did in his. This anguish etched across his features is all the sobering confirmation you need and much more than you can stomach.

Did he genuinely doubt that you missed him too? How utterly unfathomable is that! Yet, It’s not like you’ve done a stellar job expressing your feelings either. Fuck, you’re such a hypocrite, weren’t you just spiraling from the same exact thought? You curse yourself for ever questioning his adoration, and Chan must see the moment guilt flickers in your eyes because his expression turns fearful. How could you be so stupid as to entertain the idea that the most devoted person you know might waver? When he loved, he did so with the entirety of his being, never allowing himself to hold back. His passion was simply too profound to be restrained, especially when it came to the matter of you.

“I miss you too, Channie,” it takes more strength than expected to keep your voice from trembling. “More than I can even articulate.”

A long, hard kiss finds its place at the corner of his mouth. You hope the chaste action will convince Chan of the sincerity of your words. The softened gaze and release of a withheld breath trapped in his throat appear to be signs of success, but there are a few other methods you have in mind to truly prove your infatuation with him; lewd fantasies that flash behind your eyelids practically have you purring.

The back of your hand gently brushes down his face and you feel your eyes crease with adoration for the man underneath you. When your tongue dips back into his mouth, the maneuver is not as rushed as before-–it’s heavier, sensual, and much more calculated. You’re desperate to swallow every one of his whimpers, every response you can solicit with a grind of hips against your boyfriend’s hardened length. Chan threads the hair at the back of your head between his knuckles and pushes your mouths even closer together until he’s literally stealing your breath.

You disconnect to gasp for air in the crook of his neck. It feels like you’re floating, so lightheaded from it all that your brain lags to process the instant he flips you down onto the carpet. His features go uncharacteristically serious as he sits back on his heels in between your splayed thighs.

“I need you–right now,”

Chan’s hands reach for the hem of his shirt and time seems to tick by in slow motion. Fabric bunches in his grasp as he lifts it over his head to reveal the sculpted muscles of his torso. Your gulp is audible when he frees himself from the restraints of his joggers, the head of his cock is glazed with arousal which glistens in the setting sun. You can’t seem to shuffle out of shorts fast enough.

If only you could see the view from above, how drunk in bliss you must appear as Chan peppers wet kisses down your body, discarded clothing littering the floor surrounding your joint forms. Intrinsically, your fingers card through his hair, like the grip on the brunette strands could possibly help you hold on to the bits of composure that are left. His licks at your flesh are slow, messy, and reduce you to a blathering puddle. Whimpers have devolved into tortured whines at this point, but that’s just how he likes it—you can almost feel his crooked smile when he noses past your navel.

“You sound so fucking perfect,” Eyes nearly roll back into your skull in tandem with the flat swipe of his tongue up your entrance. But then Chan leans forward to hover above you again, and a part of you wants to mourn the loss of delicious pressure until his smug grin reminds you the best is yet to come. “And you taste so fucking perfect… I wanna feel how perfect you fit around me.” He teases your folds with the tip of his cock, eyes dancing over your features for signs of discomfort. Any other time you would find the consideration endearing, but you’re fed up with clenching around nothing.

“C’mon babe, show me how much you missed me,” The command comes out more like a hiss, and that revenant look on his face immediately darkens with lust. Your generous lover doesn’t show any hesitation when he sheaths himself in you, and the sudden fullness punches the air out of your lungs. Your brows pinch together from the stretch, but a wild smile grows on you; It's been so long since you had him like this that you feel insane with want. Nails drag up and down the muscles of his back, motivating a wavelike roll of his hips with every new mark that’s made. He’s exquisite with the plush of his lip tucked between his teeth, obviously impacted by the feel of rubbing against your walls.

Chan arches his back and drops his head down to watch himself disappear into you over and over. His cock feels impossibly deep once you angle your pelvis upwards to chase after his movements, and you know he can feel it hit that spongy spot that will have you seeing stars soon. It’s invigorating, this feeling of fucking yourself on his thickness, but it must overwhelm him because it’s all too soon that you’re forcefully pinned down at the waist and rendered immobile.

“So eager,” he chides with a smirk playing at his eyes. “Don’t you want me to last?”

You’ll blame the slip of this filthy admission on being shamefully cock drunk when you replay it in your head tomorrow. No time to be shy now. “I want you fuck me ‘til I black out full of your cum, Bang Chan.”

You can practically see the static whirl in his head until a switch flips. The carnal desire that remained locked away in the name of chivalry is finally unleashed, and exhilaration sets your body ablaze. He says nothing, just stares at you with blown-out pupils as a swift tug brings you flesh against him. The strength of his grip remains unyielding, even as he's buried in you to the hilt, and a silent prayer is made for there to be visible bruises left from where Chan’s fingers dig into your hips. He savors the snug sensation for a moment before rocking his body forward with a gratifying intensity. As each thrust jolts your body further up the floor, the rub of the carpet on your back burns but in the most delectable way. Ceaseless expletives and groans pour out of him with every squelch of your cunt, but in contrast with the pornographic sounds, something much more tender and romantic blooms in the center of your chest. Soon it’s clawing its way up your throat, pricking at your eyes until a cascade of tears dampens the hair around your ears.

“So in love… with you.. with you, with y-you,” your mantra is like fuel to the hot coil that threatens to snap in your stomach. It’s clear you won’t last much longer, but neither will Chan, judging by how fervent and unharmonious his ruts into you have become. As the haze in your vision dissipates, time becomes elusive, suspended between eternity and a fleeting moment all at once. The emerging image you find above finally propels you over the precipice; It’s your lover, his sweat-slicked skin, the keen edges of his beautiful face, illuminated in a light born between waning sunset and encroaching dusk that splinters your heart open. You’re certain this room exists outside of the laws of space and time. That’s how it feels, anyway.

“Clenching s-so tight, baby,” Chan pants onto your lips, trailing right behind you with his eyes sealed in a rapture of pleasure. A few more languid thrusts has him humming with blissful satisfaction.

Within the next minute or century, you coax his body on top of yours with idle caresses smoothed into his lower back. He obliges, resting his cheek between your breasts as he tries to steady his breath to a calmer rhythm. Fingers trace taut muscles before finding their way into the mess of curls at the back of his head, and Chan purrs at the gentle massage you give him, the sound reverberating down into your ribcage. He’s a toasty blanket on you, warmed by a radiant kind of love.

Your mind floats somewhere so giddy and cozy that it requires actual effort to rouse the muscles in your mouth to form words. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how I’ve been feeling lately. I missed you terribly, but didn’t want to guilt you into leaving work. I know that’s where you should be.”

The abrupt loss of heat against your skin jolts you back into reality once Chan raises on his elbows to pin you with a stare. “Where I should be, the only place I ever want to be–is with you. It’s where I’m the happiest. It’s where I belong, yeah?” His voice is firm but there is no actual hardness swimming in his brown eyes, only a will for his heartfelt look to convey the honesty in his words. The smile you return is a knowing one, one full of endearment and serenity.

“Now then,” Chan gruffs as he plops himself back down against you. “What do you want to do tonight?”

Delicate fingers weave through his hair once more as you rest your head on the carpet. Your gaze fixates to the ceiling above, where shadows and soft light sway together in a subtle dance. You can't think of anything you would rather do than this, with him.

ᴀ/ɴ :･ hehe haha been workin on this for a minute! please let me know if you enjoyed it. this fic is v much a self indulgent story born from the lyrics "there is nothin like doin nothin with you" from 'Nothing' by Bruno Major.

#skz smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan fanfic #stray kids fanfic #bang chan fluff #stray kids scenarios #bang chan imagines #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #lluna.p.writes #with you b.c

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kivedreams · 5 months

Text

I WANT YOU. part. I knj.

pair. idol namjoon x f. reader. f. is latina poc.

genre. falling in love, established relationship, romance, marriage

warnings. +18 racism and colorism discussed [this part does not contain smut, but the story is not made for a minor audience] this super delulu coded [pls tell me if i missed anything ]

synopsis; you make my life shine, and I think I also make yours shine or you didn't know how hard a relationship with a famous person would be

word count: 4.7k

A/N: i let my delusions run free with this one, i think ill be four parts.

next part.

Just a the moment you thought the party was dying down they arrived, is not like you hated the idea of having a party, but this week has been hard on you, nothing went exactly as you planned, having your thesis send back two times in a row, draw you down, that thesis was the last thing between you and your PhD, you knew it was going to be hard, but God it really was testing you, of course you were happy for Namjoon today was a big day for him, he was finally releasing the book that he always wanted to publish a full guide on The Joseon era art and its influence in today's korean artwork, Namjoon was really proud of korean artists, so being able to pay homage to them was a big thing for him and for you, because Namjoon happiness was part of your own.

The tight red dress that you were wearing might have been a bit too much, but it was Namjoon’s gift. It might have been tighter because you had put on some weight due to the stress of these months. Going to the gym or doing any type of exercise was the last thing on your mind. You would have been lying if you did not admit that, it was one of the things that were making you feel insecure tonight, your relationship was already hard, nobody believed that Namjoon the first born child of a korean family, the leader of the most successful kpop group and now Namjoon the writer would settle for you, a latin woman of color, that did not appeal to a single one of the korean standards, you weren't insecure by Namjoon’s feelings, but you were insecure on how everyone else feelings and prejudices might influence his decisions, is not like you were desperate for the ring, you really didn't need it, nor were you prepared for marriage, but sometimes it feel like the only thing that could silenced all the voices in your head, all the social media talk, and of course everyone around you.

“Y/N?” He called for you. You were still in the balcony of the apartment, seated in the light brown handmade chair you purchased for the space, with a glass of wine enjoying the Seoul night, a slight breeze, and of course the beauty of the balcony Namjoon and you have crafted together, a lot of plants were everywhere accompanied by artworks and souvenirs that you both had collected through the years, some on your travels together, some alone.

“Yes, darling” you responded looking at him, Namjoon was an extremely handsome man, you loved that haircut in him, and his choice of clothing today was a masterpiece, that beige suit with a purple turtle neck top was a perfect mix. He looked at you with confusion in his eyes, he quickly brushed that look a way and sais,

“My parents are here, they're asking for you” Are they? was the only thing in your mind

You walked to him with a smile taking his hand, to greet them and most of the guest that have arrived since you little rendezvous to the balcony, you were begging that nobody would notice your weight, your thighs were clearly giving a show in that dress, god I hope the concealer is strong enough to cover the sleep bags in my eyes, do I still have lipstick on?

“Y/N!” His father greeted you “You look so beautiful tonight! How is your thesis going? Are you close to the finish line?” His father always looked happy to see you, but was he?

“Mr. Kim! Thank you! And yes I'm close to the finish line, if everything goes as planned, I will be able to present it in a few weeks” You responded with a smile giving him a hug and doing the same with his mother. She always looked at you, at your hair with curiosity? Of course 4B coils were not the norm in Korea, but Korean beauty standards weren't going to pressure you into hating your beautiful hair.

After polite talks and greetings for a whole night with people that were close to both of you, in professional and personal level, the night was over, Namjoon and you finished saying good bye to the last guest and his agent, the night was a success, as you knew it would be, Namjoon never fails to amaze you, you saw him the whole night , moving around and enchanting everyone, you get it, you too were enchanted by him.

Finally being able to get rid of the uncomfortable shoes and the red lace around your waist that made the dress even tighter and letting Namjoon in the living room talking with the service that was in charge of getting everything clean up and tidy again, walking straight to your room, dreaming of the comfort of your bed, you forgot all the things that were placed on top of it, because you didn't trust any of the frail art pieces to be in the open while everybody drank and mingle, with not other option, you moved to the balcony, walking down to the kitchen first taking a glass of wine with you and politely smiling to the service, Namjoon was out of your sight.

Sitting on the cold floor of the balcony letting your hair free from the detailed bun that it was made into, enjoying the silence and peace of the night. You felt empty, maybe too much stress plus the insecurities in your relationship were passing you the bills, in a few months you would be 30, and if you get your PhD granted, working as a full time curator in the national art museum of Seoul, just what you wanted, but was Namjoon on your side for it? you didn't know.

“Babe” He called, putting a blanket on top of you, you did not realize how cold you were until he did so “ Tired? they are almost finishing, our room is ready, lets go”

You looked at him from the floor with your face resting on the wooden bench, giving him a little nod, but your body was not responding to the idea of standing up, maybe you were too tired, maybe it was that third glass of wine, reminding you that alcohol was not your forte.

“Too tired? “ He said lifting you up, you hugged him, getting flooded by his strong musky scent.

Before you could realize it you were already on the bedroom, headlight turn off, the only light in the room coming from the bed stands, Namjoon sat you on the edge of the bed looking at you with curious eyes, his hands on you waist, you could feel his breathing, warmth, “Can we talk in the morning?” you ask, with almost no energy to spare.

“Is everything ok?” he asked back, now with a worried look on his face.

“Yes, I am exhausted, let's talk tomorrow please” you said standing up making your way to the bathroom, trying to unzip the dress off and failing.

“Ok” He said, hugging you from the back, there it was again his scent, it made you feel so calm, at peace.

He started to remove the dress from you, leaving you there exposed to his eyes, and to yours. You could see the reflection in the mirror, how he was hugging you even harder, tighter, Namjoon loved you, you knew that. He started to remove his own clothes, making you move the other side of the sink to remove your makeup.

You heard the water running in the tub, namjoon got close to you naked, “Want to take a bath?”

“No, I’ll take a quick shower and go to bed”

“Ok darling “ He said, kissing your neck. Making you move.

He flicked due to the inspected action “I'm not in the mood to have sex” You said, before he could say anything.

“Is ok, I just want to feel you…” he said with a hurt look, you took a step back using the shower as an excuse. Namjoon was even more confused, because you never rejected physical touch, so it felt as if you were rejecting him, but you weren’t, you just wanted to reject the feeling that you had for him, because it felt like you had everything to lose.

It was around 2AM when you two were in bed together, Namjoon pulled you close, and you couldn't say no, you couldn't do that to him again. Nighttime passed through your eyes seeing the sun rise that sunday morning, you weren't able to sleep just thinking about all the possibilities, weighing your options, you could finish your phd and go back to your country, even though it was useless, jobs for a art history doctor, were not easy to find everywhere, you didn't think that you would be able to continue to live in korea after breaking up with him… the thought made you sob, you couldn't stay in bed anymore, so you quietly stood up, walking to your safe place the balcony.

The living room was like it always use to be everything clean up and in its place, you saw the blanket that namjoon used on you last night perfectly folded, taking it to the balcony with you, a cup of tea to clean your mind and a lonely space for you to cry in peace, and there you were cuddling up in the chair, with the cold morning breeze it was 6AM, but you were crying, because there were no other options for you, you knew, Namjoon would not settle for you, you'll never live up to the standard needed to be his wife, so it was better to finish it now, than wait for later.

Only your cries and the mobile hanging in the side could be heard, so that was it, like that, it was going to be over.

“Y/N?!” He called, and you used all your strength to hide your tears, but of course he noticed.

“Are you ok honey? Talk to me” You could hear the worry in his voice, you really tried to pull back the tears, but seeing him did not help

And there, both of you were, him hugging you and giving you solace, until your crying stopped, and all you could feel was his heartbeat, his hand going up and down comforting you. There he was for you, and you were about to end a 4 year old relationship.

You meet namjoon 7 months into arriving in seoul, while you were doing your master your favorite professor suggested you to pursue a doctorate in Korea, she knew people, she could get you a internship in Seoul’s national museum while you studied, and of course she knew people in HanYang university, you knew she was an important woman in the area, but you sub estimated her contacts and power, and there you were a year later accepted into Hanyang university with a full scholarship and paid internship, you didn't know how, but the rumor that you were there due to nepotism spread all over your department reaching your workplace, while it was true that your professor helped you, the scholarship was won fairly due to your grades and the ingenuity of your master's thesis. It made your work and student life harder, as if the racism and colorism wasn't enough, but of course you weren't there to make friends, you were there to finish your studies and make a name for yourself.

That just made everyone hated you more, your coworkers thought it would be great for you, a newly hire to conduct a private view of a new exposition for a VIP, at that point you did not know if it was the racism, the nepotism rumor or because they did not want to make it themselves; but at the end that's how you met namjoon, of course you knew who he was, you might not been his fan, but you knew what his impact was, the quality of his music, and the power he had. His whole presence made you nervous, but you weren't going to risk your job nor lose the professionalism. He ended up being there because the director invited him to look at the new collection that you direct boss had picked, but he wanted it to be private, he wanted to enjoy it, and that's how the both of you ended up there, sitting on the floor of the museum admiring the work behind the main art piece.

“Now I understand, why he wanted me to look at it in person” he said with a smile “it is magnific, it was worthy escaping from the studio for this”

“I know, art can free you, it's like the whole world shut down for a minute and you can breathe” you said, genuinely happy, because he was really calm and easy to talk to, so you weren't nervous anymore, it was a success.

“Indeed” he said looking at you, you felt the warm in your face because of the way he was looking at you, he stood up and helped you too “It has been a pleasure Y/N, meeting you and the collection, I think now I am supposed to take a photo” You got frozen en place, his voice was deep and raspy, it got you flustered, you came back to your senses

“Y-yes, you do, gimme a minute to look for the camera” You said moving quickly.

You took various photos of him, he looked great in every single one, Namjoon was a handsome man, and on top of that he was so humble and easy, maybe you expectatives where in the low as soon as you heard the world VIP or maybe Namjoon was just different, he made your heart move faster.

While you were tidying up he approached you with a question,

“Y/N would you like to take a photo with me?” it surprised you , but you did not have the ability to say no.

He pulled you close, you didn't know what to do, and he noticed, so he just told you to smile, you did so, but only god knows how you ended up looking in that picture. After that he said his farewell, and you could see his bodyguards getting closer than they were before.

It was such an experience it shaked your life for the next days, you could only think of him and his strong scents, it was so good, like a forest, as the freshness of the summer, Namjoon really did a number on you, you googled half of his life in those days, and started to listing to his music, it was really good, now you understood even more his fame. At the moment that you thought that you were forgetting the flustered feeling that he led on you, he posted it, he posted the photo that he took with you, you had a start sticker on your face, and his caption left you thinking about him even more,

art can free you, the whole world shut down for a minute and you can breathe

Did he post that because of you? Did he?

====================================

It was a normal thursday, you were in the subway on your way to work, thinking about the essay you had due this sunday, it was almost done, but you felt it was missing something, moonchild playing on your airpods. The day promised to be rainy, it always rained in seoul, but not in the sad depressing way it rained in London, Seoul’s rain was calm and nostalgic, sometimes it was full of rage.

You didn't have much to do at work that day, the inauguration of the exposition was a success, you replied to the emails you had, sent some codes and updated the maintenance date of some artworks.

“Miss. Y/N, Mr. Park is asking to see you, if you could go to his office please” the voice caught you by surprise, it came from Mr. Shin, executive assistant of the museum director, the surprise was more in him coming directly to see you instead of sending you an email. Have something happened, did you mess up something…

You colleagues gave you strange and curious looks, it wasn't a normal situation, and their looks worked as a further confirmation.

Walking through the administration hallways behind Mr. Shin, got you nervous, what could've gone wrong why are they calling you, are you fired? no, R.R.H.H would’ve called for that. Mr. Shin led you to the office door and retired, you could not bring yourself to knock at the door scared, but there was no other way of escaping it. You knocked on the door twice, until you heard a deep voice say, “Come in”

You opened the door using all your strength and calm “Good morning Mr. Park, how may I help-

You stopped on your word when you saw Namjoon sitting in the middle of the room, Mr. Park's office was big, two mauve sofas facing each other in front of the big brown desk, and Namjoon was seated in one of them looking at you with a smile.

“Hello ‘Y/N” his deep voice filling the room, “Please sit down’” he said signaling the sofa in front of him

You were frozen in your step, why was Namjoon there? you quickly got back to your senses, and greeted him sitting in front of him, you didn't know if the nervousness was visible, your hands were sweaty, while they rested on your knees.

“I know you got up here thinking you were going to see YoungJo, I am sorry for that, but I did not wanted to make a fuss, hope you understand” you nodded in comprehension, of course it was going to be worse if Kim Nam Joon came calling for you, it was already weird Mr. Park doing so.

“I'm going to be direct, would you like to work for me?” The shock was painted in your face “I want someone to curate some art pieces for my parents house, and for my house too, since our conversation last week, I feel that you would be perfect for it, we share the same art vision”

You couldn't say a word, he was waiting for your response, but since you stood there in silence he continue “Money is not the problem, nor is the time, please name your price and tell me when we can start working together”

“I-I, are you sure? wouldn't you like someone more professional for this? someone with more experience in the area” you muttered, still lacking the words.

“No” he said solemnly “I am not looking for experience or somebody with a name in this, I want you and your fresh views, I read your master thesis, and I know your working in your doctorate, as I said your vision is what I want, it amuse me”

“Can I think about it?” You said, but what was there to think.

“Of course” he said “Here look, this is my personal number, you can call me or add me to Kakao, and my agent number in case I don't respond, but it is unlikely” he handed you both of the cards, looking at your shocked face with a smile. “If someone asks, just tell them that YoungJo confused you with someone else, ok?”

You nodded, still feeling out of place, looking at his almond shaped eyes, he said goodbye and left, letting you there. You slowly stood up, and walked to your department, art acquisitions, as soon as you arrived your coworkers started whispering. You sat down keeping face, when you were about to start working, Anja, who seated next to you asked,

“Hey Y/N what was that about?” with curiosity flooding her face, you smile and said loud enough,

“It was nothing, looks like they were calling someone else and somehow they got to me” you said shrugging your shoulders, resting importance to it, with you saying that the whispering and the looks finished.

The rest of the day was normal, but you still could feel the nervousness in your gut, he read your thesis, and wanted you to help him curate art for his family house and his home, it feel surreal, to good to be truth, but if it was, the opportunity was amazing, Namjoon would become your first private client, the scholarship money was decent, and you pay wasn’t that bad, but you knew that whatever Namjoon would pay you would be enough to pay rent until you found a space in the campus dorms. You weren't sure yet, there wasn't a big reason to say no, but you felt insecure. What if your work does not live up to his expectations?

You arrived home putting those thoughts to rest, working on your assignments and studying your lectures, before you could realize it, it was already past midnight and you knew what you were going to say.

Hello Mr. Kim,

I would love to work with you, please let’s discuss terms and conditions.

Have a great day, “Y/N”

12:51 am

Looking at your phone screen maybe it was too short? but it didn't need any more it was concise, you hit sent, without realizing, that you did not programmed the text message to be sent at 9 in the morning, panicking looking at the screen, until those 3 hell looking dots started blinking,

Amazing, and yes I’ll have a great day ;)

knj

12:52 am

===========================================

And there you were the next day, in front of Namjoon’s workplace building, he asked you to come the next day to discuss the job requirements and pay, you set a 3PM meeting with him, going to the big doors of HYBE ent. you were nervous hand sweating approaching the reception, you'd feel the looks, but is not like you cared anymore, but maybe you should had hided your hair today, everyone at work was already use to it, but this was a new environment, the comfort of your usual places made you forget where you were.

“Hello good evening, I have a meeting” You say approaching one of the well groomed ladies in front of you, she looked you up and down, and say,

“Excuse you?” Your korean might not be the best, but it wasn't bad, now being here for almost 8 months it had clearly improved, you repeated yourself, and then she ‘understood’

“Ok, May I know the name of the person and their department please?” she said with a smirk in her face,

“I don't know his department, the name is Kim Nam Joon” she and the two ladies at her side looked at you like you were a rare species.

“Are you sure of that?” She said with a shuckle, she wanted to laugh, it was clearly on her face.

“Yes I am sure, I wouldn't have come here if I wasn't” you said annoyed.

“Miss please, don't shame yourself in here, please go, or I'll be obligated to call security” the disgusted expression on her face saying everything you needed to know.

“Could you at least call him to verify?” keeping the last strand of politeness you asked.

“No. Please leave or I'll call security” she said standing up signaling the big crystal doors.

You were mad, not knowing what to do walking down to the doors, hearing his laughs and the looks of the people around, until of course your brain reacted, you were a smart girl after all,

Hello Mr. Kim I am already here

2:58 pm

Ok, amazing please come to my studio they'll tell you the floor ;p

2:59 am

I am not being allowed, I went to the front desk and they asked me to go, should I?

3:00 pm

What? why? please dont leave, youre in the lobby right ill come to you

3:00 pm

You read the last text, still being mad but now you knew that namjoon actually wanted you there, you stood close to the door still with some of the looks in you, but they couldn't send you out, you haven't done anything and you could easily say you were going to the store. 5 minutes passed and you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket Namjoon was calling you.

“Hi Y/N? on what side are you?” his voice sounded agitated, as if he had run.

“Hello, yes, I’m close to the doors, I have a white cardigan and a brown plaid scarf”

“I think I see you” and when he said that, you heard the commotion, there he was, his hair looking frizzy, like he had been passing his fingers through it. He had a pale green sweatshirt, a dark brown jacket and light brown trousers.

You heard the call finish, and he was getting closer to you, the people in the lobby were looking at him, and you were too but not with the same eyes. Namjoon looked so hot, he smiled at you, he was happy to see you and that calmed your heart.

“Hello Y/N, I thought you would leave” he said, extending his hand to you, you shaked hands with him.

“I almost did” you said, trying to conceal the discomfort in your voice.

“What happened, why couldn't you come in? it was just a call away” he said smiling to the people around you, you started walking with him and two bodyguards started walking at the sides.

“I explained that to the lady but she did not care to confirm that”

“Who?” the demanding tone clearly in his voice he stopped to look at you, his eyes waiting for an answer

“T-he lady with the ponytail” you mutter, namjoon’s eyes intimidate you.

“Is ok” he said, dragging you to the front desk, “Can I have a visitors pass for MY guest” he was clearly annoyed, and you were too, the face in the lady was priceless, she was between shock and disbelief, until she actually needed to talk,

“C-can I have some form of ID? " she asked, you opened your purse to take your passport, going directly to your work visa.

=========================================

Namjoon drove you to his studio, scanning his face on the door. The hallway to it was beautifully decorated with small and big art pieces, Namjoon really had a great taste, his studio was small but cozy, you could feel how he crafted every space himself, it screamed his whole personality.

“Please sit down” he said and you did so “Before we begin I am obligated to made you sign a NDA, is just protocol” he said sitting in from of you handing you a folder

“Yes, I understand” you said, giving a quick read to the NDA, you signed because it was ok and handed it to him.

“Ok, perfect. Do you want something to drink? I’m making myself a coffee” he stood up waiting for your answer.

“Water would be fine”

“I don't like to beat around the bush Y/N, I want you to pick beautiful and meaningful pieces for me, I would do it myself” he brought a glass of water for you, while holding a cup of smoking coffee “But I am pretty busy right now and I like you, and your style. Your thesis in Seurat, was an enjoyable read, and I feel that your fresh vision would be perfect for what I want” He sat down in front of you taking a sip, you did the same, Namjoon made you nervous, his aura was intoxicating.

“I get it, still, I don't have a full experience curating, I might have the theory but I stick lack the practice” you said being honest

“I'm giving the practice to you, what about 15% for every piece you pick for me? " he said with a smile that made his dimples show up.

You smiled at him “What about 20%?” You smirked.

“25%, do we have a deal?” he put down his cup to look you directly in the eyes.

“W-we do.” you smiled at him nervously due to his gaze.

“You could've said 50% and I would have said yes. I just want you.” He said standing up, giving you his hand, his words made you lose your breath.

=======================

from delululand with love, kive <3

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dpxdcdisneyau · 1 year

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DPxDC Disney AU Week

One Week. 10 prompts.

Hello! I’m Dis aka @disillusioneddanny and with the help of two of the wonderful mods from the Batpham server—Gil and Kate, I would like to announce the summer writing event DPxDC Disney AU week!!!

WHEN?

August 21-25

HOW?

Each day has its own pair of prompts set in popular Disney themes. You can do something using both prompts, or just one! It’s completely up to you as long as it’s Disney themed!

---

Rules

Tag everything properly so people can avoid or search for your content. Content that is not properly tagged with Triggers or Content Warning will not be reblogged or accepted into the collection

You can create anything! One shots, fanart, anything you can think of that fits the prompt, you can create! If you really hate yourself like Dis, you can do multi chapter fics for each one if you so choose! Ship fics and gen fics are welcome! (Also DW I called myself out when I wrote this lol-Dis)

You can post things for a prompt later in the week, but not before.

You can participate in just one day or the entire week if you want!

No sign ups required, just tag your fics properly so that we can showcase them!

You can @ this blog so I can see it and reblog!

FAQ

What kind of fics are allowed?

Ship fics, family fics, platonic ships are all welcome. Everything MUST be properly tagged.

I have an idea for a Dreamworks au can I do that?

Yes! It’s only called Disney AU week because it sounds good! If you’ve got ideas from Dreamworks, Pixar, or even Studio Ghibli they are more than welcome to be a part of the event!

I can’t do the entire week but I want to do certain days, is that okay?

Absolutely! Make sure to post it the day of or after, don’t post it before the day arrives!

If you have any other questions feel free to send an ask!

Can i do just DP or just DC instead of DPxDC?

absolutely! This may be an event for the DPxDC server but that doesn't mean you have to do DPxDC! If you're more comfortable writing DP content--go for it! Same for DC content! Please still tag the works! We would love to see what you come up with!

Tags

#DPxDCDisneyAU2023

ALWAYS: #dpxdc (no spaces)

Tumblr

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/dpxdcdisneyauweek

Misc Information

BatPham (or DPxDC) ship spreadsheet! To check the name of a ship if you’re writing a ship fic

Prompts

Day 1. resurrection/death

Day 2. monster/damsel in distress

Day 3. Ohana (found family) /loss

Day 4. power of love/ revenge curse

Day 5. childhood/adulthood

Special thanks to:

@lapetitechatonne For making the graphic with the prompts

@duskyashe For the banner

@bucketorandomness For the profile picture

#DPxDCDisneyAU2023 #DpXDc

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wannabelife · 4 months

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hello lovely!! i’m not sure if ur asks are open but this is my first req ever im a little nervy

may i please req hard!dom seungkwan who’s into cum stuffing/keeping it in u and exhibitionism? but he’s the sweetest and has amazing aftercare when he’s done bc he knows he goes really rough. i hope this is okay!! thank u so much for ur time

no problem at all, feel free to send me asks anytime !! i actually love your request !! its so hard to find ppl going for hard dom seungkwan so im just always happy to make it come true.

btw i have an one shot that has some of those things you asked, its the ride with you drabble. your ask just reminded me of it.... maybe, you'll like that one too !!

[MDNI] under the cut !! enjoy ;) >>> WARNING!!! it gets a bit too intense, so be careful if you are going to read it!! it has some spanking too <<<

you had no other choice but to bite onto the pillow. a few minutes ago, seungkwan was kissing all over your body and whispering sweet things to you. until he got up, unbuttoned his jeans while staring deep down your figure, he said "in all fours, pretty"

he handled his member, giving a few testing bumps until he was fully erect. you shamelessly stared at his naked form, toned arms and veiny hands while he was working on his cock. you were drooling over him and he knows his effect.

and now, you are here. his hands grabbing your sides harshly, his cock inside you, trusting hard and steady. he is slowly picking up his pace, your moans coming out muffled because of the pillow on your face, making him grunt.

"i want to fucking hear you, yn" he says frustrated and you whine.

you feel so embarrassed by how weak you already are, that you dont answer or do anything. and that's when a slap hits your ass as you whimper, your pussy shameless throbbing around him and he fucking scoffs, a smirk on his lips that you cant see, knowing how much you like it and how good he makes you feel.

"i said i wanna hear you" another slap on the other side and you had no choice but to face up "that's right" he praises, caressing where he slapped, to calm down the burning that it left.

he hovers over you, his member reaching more of you as he starts to trust harder and rough this time. his hands slowly caressing your lower belly until he sneaks to your center. he flicks his fingers on you, bring it to his lips right after, licking his digits dry, humming at your taste. you moan just by the sound he made and the little pop after he suck it off.

his fingers are back on your center, working on your clit this time, making you arch your back, your pussy starting to clench around him.

"feeling good?" he says, a little mock on his tone, as you start to feel dizzy, your high approaching.

then he slips out. just like that. you whine uncontrollably, your pussy wetting asking for relief. "i asked you something" he gives you no chance to protest as he is shifting your position so you can face him. your body is practically thrown, your hair spreads messyly, and your sweat is collected on your forehead.

"yes, feeling good" your voice come out low and timid as you answer him.

"you should havee said" he slips "now stay like this, wanna see this pretty face when you cum"

he goes kiss your neck and shoulders, his velvet lips meeting your throat as you throw your head back, opening space for his kisses.

"so needy, my little slut" he spits while taking his kisses down and in-between your breast.

he envelopes one of your nipples around his mouth while his hand plays with the other one.

"kwannie... please..." you whine, your clit aching.

"what's that?" he says while changing to the other nipple, sucking the flesh. you whimper, your nails meeting the skin of his back as you get sexualy frustrated. he moans with your montion, biting your nipple in response, making you squirm under him.

"i need to cum kwannie please" you beg and he hands his dick to your pussy, just slidding it up and down on you, not entering quite yet.

"please, please, please" you ask repeatedly, the overstimulation so much that you have tears forming around your eyes.

he finally enters you again, sliding so easily that he is able to start trusting without waiting for you to ajust. going fast and hard, you can't help but moan his name. the pleasure built all over again in no time. he feels so proud, hearing his name sleeping from you in every way possible, he needs you to have the best orgasms of your life and he needs to be the one to give you them.

"so fucking pretty and all mine" his voice come out raspy and you feel so close to cumming.

just when you're about to make it through, he stops again. no friction at all, just him inside you as you warm him up. you start to sob, and he laughs at your state. your form so weak and you throbbing so much, giving him such a hard time to not cum inside you already but he will never let you know that.

"FUCK! i hate you seungkwan... i- fuuuck, i need to cum" you're literally crying almost yelling. that's when something shifts on him.

"what did you just say?" he asks, hovering over you one more time, so he can hand your jaw to make you look at him.

"that i fucking hate you" you say and his grip on your face tightens.

"you're going to regret that" he spits, his tone kinda low and steady, making you glup dry. leaving two little taps on your cheeks as a warning.

he pins you down and starts to trust again, way harder than before, like you didn't know that this was even possible. your hands, finding his locks to grip on it to find some stability as he grunts.

one particular trust and your eyes roll back, hitting the sweet spot inside you, making you sob again. he goes faster, hitting your g stop repeatedly now that he has found it.

"say you're sorry" he spits, his lower lips caged in between his teeth as he's getting close too. you're out of your mind, but your ego doesn't let you say anything.

"fucking brat" he says, going back up again, his palm hitting your clit harshly when he slaps you there. you tremble under him, your legs shaking and feeling yourself all over the place.

"guess i will have to teach you how to be a good girl, hm?" he says while his hands go to your neck, leaving a bit of pressure there "say you're sorry" he demands again.

you're throbbing so much, you feel like you are going to pass out if you dont release "im sorry, kwannie. im so sorry. so sorry, kwannie" you whine to him, squirming under his touch.

he chockes you a bit more and keeps trusting on your spot "beautiful" he praises and you feel your high about to release. his dick throb inside you and that's your breaking point. you cum, so much coming out of you, the bed sheets getting wet by your cum.

he cums inside you with a low moan right after, feeling you clench and milk his cock nonstop. he collapses on you while you two try to comedown from the intense orgasm.

when your breath starts to get back to normal, he slowly sleeps out of you, you whine feeling a bit sore from the overstimulation pain.

"i know, i know" he sympathies, making the same face as you as if the pain were in him too "I'm sorry, baby" he says.

"don't be" you reply cutely.

he looks at your center, his cum sleeping slightly out of you that he immediately puts back in "lets not waste any of that. keep me warm inside you" he says, little starts in his eyes as he looks back at you and smiles at your exhausted figure.

"I'll be back" he says and you nod. seungkwan hushes to the bathroom, running the water on the bath before getting some wipes.

he goes back to you, to clean you up with the wet wipes. after he is done, he hugs your form, giving you a peck on the lips "the bath is ready for you, baby" you smile thinking how can someone shift so easily, he might be your dream come true, you're the luckiest.

"c'mon, dont get lazy now" he says, sensing that you won't get up anytime soon. he gets you up bridal stile so he can get you to the bathroom.

"will you help me?" you ask, feeling too weak to wash yourself.

"of course. leave it to me. i wash you up, pretty" he confirms, leaving sweet kisses to your neck as you both smiles.

#yn #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #svt smut #svt ff #svt scenarios #seungkwan smut #seungkwan #seungkwan scenarios #seungkwan fic #wannabelife inbox

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thehorrortree · 1 month

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Deadline: July 31st, 2024 Payment: $5 Theme: Something a little... W3IRD A Literary Journal with Some Art, Comics, and Analysis Thrown in for Good Measure As Quarter Press continues to grow, we’re adding another coin to our pocketful of change. We want to offer a space for shorter works to mingle with art and other bits of nonsense, so we bring you The Quarter(ly): It just makes cents. Issues are themed; however, we consider all interpretations. 2024’s Themes and Deadlines: W3IRD (July 31) ~ W3IRD - July 31 - At this point, the “Weird” themes have become some of my favorite issues, so let’s keep it weird with a third installment! What’ve you got to show us? Stories and / or Poems For Stories: We’re open to micro works all the way up to 10,000 words. Just keep two things in mind: We want to be engaged and the submission must be completed (no pitches, please!) For Poems: We’d love to see up to five poems from you, but you can always just send one, too. Art As long as it has some tie to the current issue’s theme, we’re open to see any art created in any medium at any time. Just know that it will need to “work in print” and—might—be presented in black and white. We WILL NOT Accept any AI-Generated art. For ART ONLY, you may choose to submit via email by sending jpgs, PDFs, or PNGs to chrisatquarterpress(at)gmail(dot)com Graphic Stories Show us your comic strips or complete short works; we’d love to see them all! Please try to keep submissions to 20 pages or less. Feel free to also send a collection of comic strips / one shot comics, as well. (Please note that our publication size / dimensions might change between issues. Our “Norm” is 6x9”). These must be COMPLETE works. For Graphic Work / Comics, you may choose to submit via email by sending jpgs, PDFs, or PNGs to chrisatquarterpress(at)gmail(dot)com Analysis / Interviews / Reviews As long as it is tied to the theme in some way, we’d love to see any and all media analysis (film, music, literature, etc.), interviews with notable creatives, or reviews of past—or present—media. We’re open to anything up to 10,000 words. (Feel free to pitch non-fiction ideas; however, please note that our “Interest in seeing a draft” does NOT guarantee publication.) The Boring, Necessary Bits What We Want / What We (Probably) Don't We Want: Works with fantastical elements: scary, happy, creepy, heartbreaking, bizarre, hilarious, whatever. While you can see our “Loves” lower on the page, we’re pretty open to anything that’s worth picking up. We (Probably) Won’t: Pick up works not tied to or containing fantastical elements. It’s kinda our thing. (However, some themes may lean more heavily on a specific genre or reality. Interpret accordingly.) Where to Tread Lightly: We’re pretty open-minded and okay with just about anything, but there better be a reason for it to be in the work. The darker, more explicit you go, the more we’ll really need to see its necessity to the work. We don’t want shock / horror / violence for its own sake. Definitely Will Not Publish: Any work that is hateful towards any race, creed, religion, gender, or identity. This aims to be an inclusive space. Other Good Things to Know Your work must be ORIGINAL. We will not accept any AI-Generated work. Excluding non-fiction submissions, it must be complete. For these shorter forms, we need to see the whole thing to make an informed decision. We accept simultaneous submissions, but ask that you let us know up front—and if / when it gets picked up by another venue as soon as possible. If your work is accepted, please wait one year before submitting again. (We want to include as many folks as possible!) Rights and Payment Rights: We request one-time, first publishing rights in print and digital PDF forms. All rights will be retained by the creator. We simply ask that when / if published elsewhere, acknowledgment is given to its appearance within The Quarter(ly).

If a “Best of” or Collected Anthology is published, publication rights will be renegotiated for that publication. Payment: We aim to be a paying venue, even if it’s just enough for a cup of coffee. Upon agreement of publication, we’ll pay contributors $5 and a PDF contributor copy. However, in some instances where we’d like to publish a single poem, short work, or piece of art, we may not have the budget for a payout. We may offer publication for a Digital Copy of the PDF only. (We totally understand if you’d rather not, though!) Please feel free to let us know up front if you do not want to be considered with this option. The Fastest Ways to Get Rejected Here’s a brief, incomplete list of ways to increase your rejection chances: Start your story with a narrator waking up and / or not knowing where they are. Sending multiple submissions more than 1k words each, at one time. Lots! Of! Exclamation! Points! (Let the context guide the excitement.) Only sending rhyming poetry. (While I don’t mind some, rhyming poems are not a personal preference and increase the chance of rejection with each new rhyme .) Submit Your Work Written Work Please be prepared to provide your bio, type of submission, and the ENTIRE work(s). For non-fiction, feel free to submit a brief pitch for an interview / article idea. Remember that an interest in the pitch does not guarantee publication. For prose submissions, be sure your document is double-spaced, in a legible font. Art Prepare to send us your bio and work(s) titles. You may include a link to your specific work / works for consideration or upload them as PDFs, jpegs, or pngs. Remember: Your work needs to “work in print” and may be published in black and white. All artwork will be considered for cover artwork. Please let us know if you would NOT like to appear on the cover. Graphic Work Please send us bios for everyone involved in the work’s creation, along with the title and length of your submission. Feel free to link your submission or include it as a complete PDF—whatever makes the most sense for the project. Remember: Final publication size may differ, but our norm is 6x9”. We’re cool with color, but work may be published in black and white. Things we love. As our publishing tastes cover a wide variety, here is a very incomplete list of authors, artists, and various media that we would die to work with / publish / have made. These are a HUGE indication of our aesthetics. Carmen Maria Machado, Erin Morgenstern, Susanna Clarke, Ben Templesmith, Neil Gaiman, Toni Morrison, David Almond, Take Shelter, Hanif Abdurraqib, The 39 Deaths of Adam Strand, Nova Ren Suma, Over the Garden Wall, Haruki Murakami, Donnie Darko, Daytripper, Jeff Lemire, Sean Murphey, Joe Hill, The Golem and the Djinn, Louise Erdrich, Luca, Samurai Jack, What We Do in the Shadows, Coen Brothers, Spirited Away, Hannah Tinti, Brad Neely, Adventure Time, The Hawkline Monster, Michael Deforge, Allie Brosh, Kate Beaton, Graham Annable, Richard Ayoade, Joy Williams… We love the blending of real life and the fantastic, the absurd, the magical, the heartbreaking, and the things that scare the shit out of us. And if you want a more direct line, you can pick up a copy of one of our publications here. Via: Quarter Press.

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mad-voidling · 10 months

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(Shoutout to @house-of-mirrors for inspiring the pic!! Go check out their work it’s great!)

Figure it was time to introduce my own silly little guy!! The picrew is slightly jank cause their design is only roughly humanoid lol, but I’m okay with it! I already have some more of its story planned out in my head besides the stuff I’m going to be putting below the cut, so feel free to ask about anything and/or send a calling card my way!! Their name is the same as my profile name

Info

(minor spoilers for Heart’s Desire)

- Agender and Aroace, not exactly out but it hasn’t had any trouble with people questioning them about it (We’re living underground with devils and people with tentacles for f___’s sake!!)

- Awoke in New Newgate knowing their name and nothing else about itself. When asked about this initially, they would seem to space out for a moment before jolting back to reality and seeming to not have heard the question at all. Thus, most don’t ask anymore

- It’s constantly wrapped up in layers of cloth and such, and no one’s seen what’s underneath it, not even Idris themselves. They’ve tried, but for unknown reasons, it’s physically incapable of removing any of it itself. When anyone else tries, they fly into an uncontrollable panic that they never seem to remember once they’ve calmed down

- Quite tall, but not freakishly so yet, probably around seven feet or so

- Has an almost instinctual loathing and mistrust of Mr. Stones, has complicated feelings on the Masters in general but will choose any of them over Stones

- Sometimes, if it focuses hard enough, it can see the night sky, full of brilliant and vibrant stars

- Has a tendency to hoard things that catch their eye, usually shiny stuff but really anything they find interesting. Their organization of their collection seems chaotic, but there’s a logic to it that only it knows

- Occasionally cloisters itself in its lab for extended periods when it gets really focused on some research

- Not a fan of alcoholic beverages, has mastered the art of subtly dumping drinks into nearby plants

- Has… Complex feelings about the other players of the Marvellous. Their relationships with the Bishop and Beechwood are the simplest because they don’t interact/talk much outside of the game. It’s somewhat concerned about both of them for different reasons, but isn’t about to barge into their lives or anything (Besides, what could they really do? Collecting candles isn’t a crime, and Beechwood is a bit beyond help at this point)

- Certainly not friends with Virginia, but they have a mutual respect for each other. They met even before Idris became a player of the Marvellous when they were both after the Correspondence Stones, which Idris won far and square. Their lives have overlapped several times since then, and they’ve learned to get along fairly well

- Not a big fan of the Manager, finds his whole hotel uncomfortable and doesn’t trust him in the slightest. That isn’t helped when it finds out about the whole Tristram thing, which it thinks is a bit too convenient for their liking based on what they know. Also sick of him making his personal issues the problem of literally everyone else (it’s not our fault you’re not over your divorce yet bro). When the Horrors:tm: get to be to much they’ll stay in the Mirror-Marches, thank you very much

- Speaking of Tristram, Idris has a big soft spot for him. It understands what it’s like not to know yourself, to brush your fingertips against memories but not be able to grab hold of them. As soon as it gets the chance it gets his mind back and returns to it to him with zero hesitation. Once everything is said and done I imagine that the two of them + Cora remain good friends

- Mr. Pages confuses Idris immensely. Though the Master doesn’t usually seek them out, when the two do interact, it acts overly familiar with them. Not to an uncomfortable degree, but it’s still strange, and when it breaks into their wine stores, it almost seems to want to tell them something, but never lets it slip. Hmm. They also both share an interest in books, so that and the Marvellous usually ends up being the focus of their conversations

- Loves their work as a Correspondent, despite the inherent danger that comes with working with the Correspondence. It feels comfortable to them, as if they’re coming home. The letters seem to flow out onto whatever it’s writing on, which has led to them getting lost in thought a few times and their clothes catching on fire

#fallen london #fl #oc #my oc #character intro #Idris Nightlocke #fallen london oc

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pupzzz · 2 years

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Abt me/this acc!

You can skip to dni!

Name - You can call me any of these! - Fang, Lupe, Echo/Ecko, Lobo, Wolfie, Wolve or Pup ☆

+ petnames/titles?: puppy/puppie/pups/pubby (any variation really) puppa, papa and dada (im okay with anything really though feel free to ask about any others!)

Age - 20

Pronouns - he/they/it + neopronouns: pup/pups, canine related neos!

Likes/interests - kpop, anime, sanrio (puppies) animal crossing, cookie run, genshin, idv, collecting plushies + stickers

I am a pet dreamer/regressor aswell as a dog/wolf/canine therian/kin and furry, though i am a cg/handler too! (Both coping mechanisms!) Interested in a cg (puppyreg) and/or pet! Im okay with agere too though^^ just as long as youre around my age, 17 at least! Dont be afraid to dm me (:

Please use tone tags when talking to me!

Srs, nm, j, hj, s, p, r, li, ly, others are okay too but these are usually the ones I need!

I love to make friends!! Dont be afraid to message me or interact :D im also okay with spam likes/reblogs etc! I am quite bad at making conversation but ill try my best! Just bad at messaging first ): i also have a spam insta which i use more and get notifs there, if youd like the user to be friends you can dm me! Or pinterest^^

DNI

If you are an nsfw/kink account or interact with accounts of that nature, this account is strictly sfw

If you are homophobic, transphobic, racist, abliest, anti - therian/petre and agere + participate in cancel or cringe "culture" and things along those lines, I will not tolerate it on my account and you will be blocked

If you are under 15, this account is safe for everyone but i am just not comfortavke with it, or at least dming (:

! If you know me irl or on another platform, this is my safe space, do not take that away from me and do not talk abt/mention it to me either, in the nicest way possible...unless I have personally told you abt this acc I dont want you interacting with me here

Typing quirks (will add more when/if i remember)

m: me/im/i, b: be, s: so, ss/is? jst: just, gnna: gonna, wnt: want/wont, cld: could, shld: should, hve: have, nd: and, yr: youre

+ liked posts may not be safe, if youre looking through those be careful because some may be triggering or upsetting!

If you have read my dni please send me or comment any 1! of these emojis 🐕🐶🍮🐾🦴 if you dont you may be removed, or blocked if your acc is blank cause ill assume its a bot (or pls let me know youre not!)

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everglow-synth · 3 months

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Anonymous asks... 🎭 Send 🎭 for my muse to meet the opposite version of themselves

Save for the thunderstorm, the air was still, and the streets were quiet. Stood at opposite ends of the street the Matthews both stared each other down, both fully aware of the situation before them;

Another me.

On Firefly's side, a city lit up in the dead of night displaying its many places for debauchery. A city of freedom so full to the brim with it that even the police are too busy to stop anything from happening. Daylight theft occurring, only to be stopped by those with a sense of responsibility.

On Blacklight's side, a sprawling cityscape that while very similar feels a lot more dystopian, a glowing tower lighting up the night sky in shades of purple and blue, as if it were watching over the city closely. The streets weren't as free as they claimed, with androids on every street corner reporting in to one man; this man.

And between them, a rift in space that had split the worlds down the middle, allowing these two a glimpse into their alternate timelines.

Blacklight had been in the middle of a collection, slamming a man against a car with his foot, Force Blaster pressed against the panicking man's temple. Firefly had been in the middle of stopping a mugging, having slammed the guy against a car and in the process of tying him up with his own coat.

And now here they stood, staring each other down.

"Hm. Well, isn't this a surprise?" Blacklight mumbles to himself. Though this did come as a bit of a shock, it didn't turn his attention away from the man fully. Not even looking at his victim he pulled the trigger, killing him on the spot.

Firefly however was stunned; he didn't know what he was even looking at. He could recognize that the man before him - the man who looked almost exactly like him - had just killed another man. Under normal circumstances, it would have eaten him up entirely. But right now... he didn't know what was going on. Was he hallucinating? Was this a dream?

Why was he a murderer?

He tried to get up and run over to the man to get some answers, but as he started to move, the rift seemed to crack. Noticing his other's failure, Blacklight couldn't help but share a sadistic grin, offering Firefly a small wave goodbye as the rift shut.

Maybe the two would meet again someday... but this was going to haunt Matthew for some time. For a dream, this all seemed awfully realistic...

#;burning brightly (ic)#;under the blacklight (villain au)

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clickedbaita · 7 months

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The weather was going to be unkind for the remainder of the week and they both knew it too, but neither could've predicted what was to come with it. When it rains... it pours. Brad's car was already at the end of its lifespan after what happened months ago-- yes, it'd only been a tire, but the car itself was old. Dated. Bought used and feeling it. He had been wanting to get something new, but without a better job to lift him up it would have to do. However, it was starting to get too expensive to maintain it and he almost wondered if it'd be better to sell what remained. Maybe it'd do better in the hands of someone else, but not him. Not him and Janet.

If they hadn't had this damn car then they wouldn't be in the situation they found themselves in, Janet sat staring out the window of the passenger seat and Brad with his head against the steering wheel. He could hear the thunder starting to roll in, could hear what was coming and he knew if they didn't get somewhere else they'd be stuck in the car for the long haul until a tow truck could get to them. Maybe he could look? Maybe he could take a quick peek at the engine and see if anything makes sense or looks like it could be popped back into place? He didn't know-- what did he know about cars? He was a science major.

"I'm going to take a look," he reaches down to pull at the hood latch mechanic, unlocking it then pulling his head back from the wheel so he can adjust his glasses. He sniffs a breath and gets out, slipping into the cloudy darkening day. It'd be night soon which made all of this worse for more reason than one, but mostly because it brought back memories of something they had been working so hard to forget. Shit. He really hoped he found an answer soon-- he knew Janet hated storms after everything. He wanted to get her back home to hers so they could unwind from dinner with her parents-- having to pretend you're okay making that harder.

He pushed the hood up on the car and pushed at his hair to get it out of his face and behind his ears. He adjusted his glasses once more, flicking his gaze behind them to see what he could of the engine. But, again, what did he know? He studied time, space, the mysteries of the world-- not how a car ran. That was a solved mystery he didn't have time to unravel. Dammit. He smacks his hand against the frontside of the car, curling both after around the open front. He leans into his hold, hanging his head and shutting his eyes as the sky finally opens up. The first drop that hits him nails the back of his head and he winces before pushing to straighten, looking up at the sky. More drops fall, this time hitting his face-- glasses. He curses and quickly closes the hood before coming back around to get into the car as the clouds let loose what hell it'd been holding in.

Rain pelts the car and he looks over at Janet, a little wet himself from what rain had collected on him in his movements outside. A pause and then he's reaching for @whatscanon, hand sliding over her leg and giving it a squeeze, "This is my fault, Janet." He sighs, free hand raising to pinch the bridge of his nose, "This car is just one big mistake after the other these days--"

Send 🌧️ for our muses to get caught in the rain together

#whatscanon #✦ › answered › brad ᵐᵃʲᵒʳˢ #✦ › verse › brad ᵐᵃʲᵒʳˢ › main

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mint-chip-cigarettes · 2 years

Text

Desert Dancing

Nacho Varga x Lalo Salamanca

Highly recommend popping on some Buena Vista Social Club for the Vibes.

- - - - - -

Darkness had well and truly settled over the massive compound.

The party that never seemed to end had quieted to an almost dignified affair as the cool breeze swept in off the desert sands to chase away the last of the days heat.

And consequently sending string-bikinis aplenty running for the indoor hot tub.

A high-pitched giggle and a playful screech echoed down from a second story window – breaking the quietude of the crackling wood fire and the mellow guitar still audible from Nachos hideaway.

The man let out a long sigh through his nose at the interruption.

Whatever alcohol Don Eladio had been serving was a barely distinguishable flavor on his tongue by this point in the evening, and Nacho supposed that was a testament to its quality as much as anything.

No bitter, gasoline aftertaste to remind him of why he was here.

No edge to match the twin feeling deep in his gut.

Whatever it was, it burned slow and steady like the red, glowing coals at the bottom of the fireplace he sat next to – warming him into a relaxed state he knew he should reject with his entire being.

A complacent man around Don’s and Salamanca’s could very very soon find himself a dead man.

“Ey! Nachito! There you are!”

Speak of the devil.

Lalo swaggered towards Nachos quiet corner of the yard with a surety Nacho could only assume was half-born, half-alcohol as the taller man looked about as inebriated as he’d ever seen him.

A heavy crystal decanter swung carelessly from the Don’s hand. Half-full and dark amber.

Settling himself into the chair next to Nacho with a huff, Lalo wasted no time in clinking a pair of expensive-looking glasses down onto the table between them and filling each with a more than healthy amount.

“Did we scare you away?” Lalo teased, grinning that cat-like smile over at Nacho.

Snorting, the lieutenant didn’t deign to reply – ignoring the Don as well as the second glass he’d scooted closer to Nacho with one long finger.

Pouting at the other man’s dismissal, Lalo leaned back in his chair – sliding a paisley-covered arm across the space to swing halfway in the air.

He took a long sip from his glass.

Nacho glanced over with a blank expression, finally giving Lalo the attention he seemed to want.

Chuckling around his glass, the Salamanca scion made a show of swallowing with a slight grimace.

“I don’t blame you for sticking with the tequila. The rum is…”

He made a waving motions with his free hand – stretching it farther to settle over the back of his companions chair.

“When we get back to my house I’ll get you some of the really good stuff.”

Nacho nodded.

“Okay.”

Lalo’s mustache twitched slightly at his taciturn reply.

Not the type to be dissuaded so easily, the Don laughed lightly, reaching out to slap Nacho on the shoulder.

“Hey, you did good today, Nacho. Real good. A caballero de los Salamanca’s in the making.”

Nachos eyes flicked up to meet Lalo’s.

There were no words in any language to describe how much he didn’t want to be the Salamanca’s caballero.

Not even back when it had just been him and Tuco.

And especially not for Lalo.

“I’ll have the car ready to take us back to the states tomorrow.”

There was too much to do stateside anyway.

Collections to be made, Fring to satisfy, his papa to… what?

Nacho half-wished he’d listened to Manuel when he’d advised his son to call the cops.

A life looking over his shoulder or one caught between a rock and a hard place.

No part of him could decide if one sounded better than the other right now.

“You dance, Nachito?”

Nacho blinked back to the present.

“What?”

Lalo perked up, moving around in his chair a bit and snapping his fingers to the beat of the guitar still playing across the yard.

“You know – dance. You take your girls to the salsa club?”

Nacho scoffed a bit at the idea.

“No. That’s – no. That’s not our scene.”

Sighing, Lalo rolled his eyes dramatically.

“You can, though?”

“Can what?”

“Dance! Oh for – Nacho, if you tell me this guitar doesn’t make you want to get up and swing your hips a little I’ll be very disappointed.”

Letting out a breathy laugh, Nacho relaxed back to stare at Lalo.

“I think my dad listens to this stuff.”

His brow furrowed at the focused look on the others face.

“You’re serious?! Shit, Lalo. I don’t know - That’s not how I dance!”

The older man let out a long, exasperated breath – clapping his hands against his knees and rising to his feet.

He turned to look down at Nacho expectantly.

A long-fingered hand was extended - palm up and waiting.

“Well?”

“… You’re shitting me.”

Lalo grinned.

“If you don’t step on my loafers I might even let you lead.”

Nacho stared up at the other – dumbfounded and floundering for an excuse to get out of the Don’s impromptu dance-class.

“I… someone’s gonna see.”

Lalo made a show of peering around the corner, poking his head up over the small wall of topiary cordoning them off from the rest of the party.

Well damn, Nacho didn’t know his desire for privacy would come back to bite him like this

Scrubbing a hand over his scalp in agitation, Nacho glared minutely up at the Salamanca – who was already swaying and moving in time with the beat.

“Fine. One song.”

Lalo smiled brightly, stepping far too close into Nachos personal space.

“Of course. I’ve got other things to do tonight, you know.”

Bastard.

Letting out an aggrieved sigh, Nacho reached for the other, only to have his wrists caught and held firmly.

“You said I could lead.”

“There was a big If in that statement, Nachito. These are expensive shoes.”

“Jesus Christ…”

Nacho frowned sharply as a long-fingered hand settled at his waist.

“Hand on my shoulder, Nacho. Let’s do this right.”

Nacho was going to kill him. Forget whatever Fring was planning, he’d do it his damn self he’d –

Suddenly Lalo was right there.

Filling every one of Nachos senses and leaning in to whisper in his ear.

“There. Much better…”

Tense was too kind of a word to describe how Nacho felt as Lalo grasped his hand with uncharacteristic gentleness.

Though, was it really uncharacteristic?

He’d seen how Lalo could be almost sweet – like he’d been earlier with Yolanda at the hacienda… hell, even with Hector in the nursing home…

God. He was an idiot.

Lalo wasn’t sweet.

Lalo was a predator. A pack animal.

If he seemed kind it was the ploy of a wild dog wagging its tail.

No sane person would mistake a wolf for a pet.

“Nacho…”

Clearing his throat, the lieutenant blinked up at the taller man.

Lalo was close enough to smell the alcohol on his breath, tempered by his expensive cologne.

A whiff of engine grease made Nacho shiver involuntarily.

“Ready?”

Nacho watched Lalo swallow hard as they stared at each other.

Not nearly as unaffected as he pretended to be.

They stood for a moment – almost chest to chest and waiting – as the heat that had departed with the sun lit back bright and hot in the space between them.

The younger licked his suddenly dry lips and watched the taller Don track the small movement with his eyes.

Jesus…

“… Lalo…”

“LALOOOO!!!”

“LALO SALAMANCA!!! GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE!!”

A loud, drunken call interrupted their quiet, and Nacho sprang away like he’d been burned.

Lalo stood, statue like, still watching him go with an indefinable look in his eyes.

Rustling branches signaled the arrival of more people to the area and, like a switch had been flicked, Lalo turned with arms outstretched and a smile on his face to greet Eladio and the other Dons.

Unruffled and unbothered.

As if he hadn’t just been holding Nacho like…

Fuck.

Nacho hung back as far as he dared while the party pulled them back into its ebbs and flow.

The guitar continued to play – moving on to a more uptempo tune in response to the bikini-clad women starting to writhe about for the group’s enjoyment.

But even watching this, Nacho couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment that the slow, soulful strains were gone.

That he hadn’t taken that first step.

He glanced over across the pool to where Lalo stood laughing; surrounded by men and woman and holding court as only he could.

Dark eyes moved casually across the yard – looking for something.

Nacho didn’t let himself hope it was him.

Turning on his heel, Nacho strode quickly back to his corner.

Where he’d left his tequila and his fire and apparently his damn mind.

His step hitched just a little as he finally settled on a word to describe the look Lalo had given him.

It didn’t change a thing.

It didn’t matter.

It was hunger.

#lacho #better call saul #lalo salamanca #my writing #well here it is kids #nacho varga