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candywife333 · 29 days ago

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You Could Never

Pairing: Jungkook singer x chubby y/n

PART 1 of Places You Never Were

Not edited as usual and should end with part 2. Really poured my heart out in this one, hope you like it!

Triggers: sad feelings, crude words and description, intense unrequited love, heart break

She had loved him in the silent ways. And he had simply let her, as though he was doing her a favor.

He never asked for anything but he always accepted. The hearty home cooked meals , the cheerful messages reminding him to sleep early and take a break when he needed it, the silence when resounding echoes of the world around him got too loud. When he needed an escape. Always there.

Foolish girl. I was always there. Invisible, woven into the tapestry of his life --a single seamless thread overarching the entire narrative. Always there, but never seen.

Too trivial to be seen. To be seen with. In the background of his life like a never ending tune.

Even the way he broke up with me was trivial. Like I held no meaning to him after 5 long years of holding him down. It was a text, after he had left for one of his international tours with the rest of his group.

I never told him about what I saw in the studio that day. I simply bottled it up, the grief and then the rage, rocking myself to sleep in tears -dwelling on things of the past that would haunt me.

That night was when they all hitched a late night flight to America from South Korea. It was 5 AM when I received the text, "Let's take a break Y/N. I know this feels like it came out of nowhere, but come on. You know that we haven't been the same since a while now. It's best for me and you , so we can stay focused on our professional goals".

I read the text, a manic, dry laugh escaping my throat. Like something in me had cracked. Permanently. Focused on professional goals. So that was what he was doing with that dancer in that studio late into the evening. Pursuing professional goals. I see, I guess that's what they called whoring around nowadays.

We both knew whose goals he truly cared about. His. Because, even though I had been transforming his career and his life selflessly, mine had changed very little. I was still under-study to a producer, not even an official one. That's what happens when you take shit. From everyone. Including people at work. I guess my relationship dynamics had translated into my work as well.

Days evolved into weeks.

Weeks of unwashed, crusty dishes and funky smelling, dirty hair. But if I didn't show up for any more days- I would be unemployed. So I went back to work. The producer I worked under, Kang, still forgot my name though I had been working with him for a number of years. Still getting his dry wash, still making his piss water coffee, still organizing messy shelves-fixing his life instead of mine. Still unnoticed.

But the world doesn't wait for you. Even when you are decaying and decomposing inside. The machine of the industry won't ever stop. For anyone. The world wouldn't let me recover, headlines flooded with rumors of his projects, his hook-ups, his relationships, collaborations, him.

The text still reverberated in my ears, as if he had spoke it out loud , "Let's take a break". Five years down the drain. Spilled milk. And maybe that's why they call these things break-ups. Because it literally breaks you from the inside out... corroding parts of you that you tend to take for granted. Trust and optimism in the world gone in the blink of an eye.

Those were the days I wish my love was unrequited. If it had just stayed a pipe dream, at least it wouldn't have broken me like this.

I still didn't know where I went wrong. I still didn't as I went through the motions of my monotonous life. He had been warm to me. Kind and considerate, loving. He had called me his rock, his calm in the storm that was his life. All lies. I should've known that I was just a phase in his life. A passing summer rain. We were too different to work in reality.

His life is noisy and vibrant. He lives in stages and luxury hotel rooms. Rented Villas. He passes through places, nothing ever permanent. I live in the embrace of soft blankets worn out by the passage of time and faded covers of books I have thumbed through the pages of a million times. In an apartment I had stayed in for 6 years now.

My eyes fall on memories--all too painful. I try not to think of them, to not see them. Mementos of times gone by. A backstage pass, a hoodie he left behind, a birthday card signed in his messy loopy signature. The pain never dulls, even though its been a few months since the fall out. He has been jet-setting across the globe for his tour.

And just when I thought it could not hurt anymore than it already did. I saw them at the award show. The dancer and him. Walking hand in hand. The dancer was dressed in a golden shimmery fabric, floating across with floor with her lengthy, frail arm on his buff, tuxedo clad shoulder. My producer had told me to come, a networking event from hell.

I was dressed in black, as most of the junior crew were. A drab black shirt and pants that couldn't cover my hefty frame well enough. As if it wasn't enough to see him with her, his speech poured salt on the raw edges of my wounds. "Thank you to our fans, our team, our families", he drawled smoothly. "And to all the people behind the scenes who have seen all versions of me and still helped me to walk this path and achieve so much when I was lost. You are all part of my journey and I am forever grateful".

I felt like I had been sharply slapped on my cheek. I had been relegated to the supporting cast in his life, the side character, the background. It seemed to me, that's all I ever was. The supporting character in someone else's life. He looked through the crowd, his gaze fixing on me - a flicker of recognition. A momentary lapse in his nonchalant composure.

I look forward at him as though he was immaterial, as though he was invisible. Because to me in that moment that was what he had become. He had erased my existence from his life. And he did so proudly.

I didn't win anything that night.

But I sure as hell was done losing.

________________________________________________________

The studio looked different now that it had nothing to do with him. I had purged all signs of him from the studio. The ones that I could anyway. Gone were the days were I scurried around like a mouse, silent and hesitant to pitch in ideas.

I stayed longer than everyone else. I was building myself. Something I should have done from the beginning. Instead of building up someone else. Learning and absorbing all the skills of the producers and engineers around me. Fine-tuning layered vocals, manipulating sample sounds to fit in with a track. Lacing together vocals with syncopated beats.

I asked. Something I never did before. I let them take a risk on me, trying the controls myself when they offered. I worked on demos on my own and one day when I was busy munching on a veggie sandwich , my boss came in, a wry smile on his face , crooning melodically, "You've got it".

I stared at him confused. Stuttering, "Sss...ir what do you mean"? He went on resolutely as though he had made up his mind, "You got it kid. The gumption and the genius. Drop all the projects you are working on as of today. You will be working for a solo artist, crafting together their title tracks".

I sat there completely mind-blown as he walked away as fluidly as he had come in, just as silently.

I worked on the tracks day and night. The rough work schedule and my disinterest in food making me lose weight and gain skills I never thought I had. I thought I didn't have it in me. But I layered every track, made every decision regarding arrangements- no matter how minute. I could hear a hint of the insertion of one trumpet and the chords of one piano piece and know which part of which track I was in. I was obsessive. It had to be how I envisioned it.

The room was silent the day of the title track recording. "Alright", I said to the awaiting room, all head producers and boss in to hear the recording. "Let's make sure the verses for track 3 are minimal , raw, with low reverb. Pull in the strings, and build the tension . Make sure to make it sharp in terms of enunciation of lyrics because once we break the tension... there will be silence in the track ".

The young soloist frantically noted it down, teaming with fear and wide eyes as I explained how it should progress.

One of the senior producers who wouldn't even have acknowledged me before raised his hand. "Are you certain that such a drop, with silence, wouldn't be too precarious. Don't you think it would lose the interest of listeners"?

This time was not the time I doubted myself. I had slowly stopped doing that as I had crafted these tracks together. "I am sure", I firmly responded. " There are too many ballads-especially pop ballads nowadays with the same over produced noises. Silence occasionally would do the audience some good".

There was a brief overture of silence in the room till another producer sighed.

"Let's give it a go".

In the booth, the artist sang the song over the arrangement, and as i sat in the control room--I felt so joyous. Something I hadn't felt in a while. The tracks with the voice sounded honest...truthful... and so beautiful. I let his voice crack because that brought beauty to some tracks. The rawness with the music arrangements enveloping them, even brought tears to a few producers in the room.

When the artist came out of the booth, he fearfully looked at me, "I am so sorry... for my voice cracking. I promise I will do better. Please let me record them again". He looked at me, like I would take away everything he worked for. But I am not that type of person...I don't take people away from their dreams.

I whispered back to him, "We are keeping the tracks as is. If your voice didn't crack, I would feel like you were singing lies. But you can't lie on these tracks... they have to be honest , even if they are painful. Thanks for lending your voice and bringing them to life".

He smiled back at me, his pink bangs fringing his watery, teary eyes. And you know what, I was not at all close to this guy. But I could feel my eyes tear up too. Some bonds are forged differently. We laughed at each other , leaky eyes meeting as the rest of the producers clapped me on the back, exiting the room.

It was the birth of something new.

______________________________________________

The track dropped 2 months later. No heavy marketing circuit. Just a midnight release and accompanying dance performance done by the artist to certain tracks on music bank and other channels.

It was everywhere by that morning. Flooding the radio, in all stores, in clubs, cafes , playing everywhere--even in a few ads and the central track anticipated to be in one long awaited korean drama which had already included it in its trailer .

The title track dominated the charts with its "charming simplicity" and "devastating lyrics and arrangement". Even the most astringent of critics lauded it as a "heart wrenching series of compositions that mimicked the death of love". Artists used it in edits and sang along to it. Even avid indie lovers who tended to harp on mostly overproduced pop songs spelled it out to be " the sound of scratching your soul on glass shards , melancholy and akin to slowly bleeding to death".

Placed in cursive handwriting below the title, in credits was my first name. Embossed in red script on the bottom of the album. Something for once, in its entirety, belonged to me.

The artist, Jimin, blew up overnight as well. He was a part of Jungkook's group and a lesser known member. He had been struggling til now to make an identity for himself, to distinguish himself as he had what some considered " weaker vocals" and only dance skills to show. But with this album, he ascended into the ranks. Showing up on billboard, even getting international acclaim. Invited to perform at the VMAs.

With my production and lyrics, and his innate talent, he beat out Jungkook's solo for the No. 1 spot on the Korean Hot 100- and stayed there for 4 weeks straight.

His fans argued that it was a fluke, a temporary deviation. Nothing to write home about.

But the talents and the machinery of the industry knew better.

Jungkook may have been spectacular, but he lacked depth. Depth and soul that the newcomer had. Singing that sounded like crying... that resounded in the souls of everyone who heard the artist live. And now the soul had someone's name encrypted into it, one that the industry couldn't afford to pretend away any longer.

Headlines ravaged the press, "Rookie member Dethrones Veteran Soloist in Weekly Chart", "Clash of Members due to Superior Skills ", "The Death and Birth of Pop".

All dramatic titles that reached me. I laughed dryly at the soap opera that was being played out in the headlines.

My life sure was changing quickly. I was being fought over...artists wanted me to direct and produce their albums. I had moved out of my apartment into a cozy house that I had always wanted, since I was a little girl. A homey, spacious cottage with a massive garden filled with fruit and flower trees.

My earnings were sky-rocketing and I bought properties to ensure that in case something happened, I still had the means to stay in my new house (that I now never wanted to leave).

At work I felt like I belonged. The other producers listened to my thoughts and took it seriously. I had my hands in a lot of projects. And it was all working out.

I showed up on my first talk show , a panel named "The Sound of Music". It was an entire show talking about female empowerment through music as a medium. The host of the show asked, "You have been behind the scenes for the longest time. Was your success something you expected"?

I pondered the question for a bit. "No, definitely not. But I built it , thinking that the outcome was inevitable . That there is no way I could possibly fail".

And that is how I continued my work. My newfound stability was reflected in my appearance. I had lost some weight from following a healthy lifestyle and my curves that had at one point made me look frumpy, now looked well-proportioned on my frame. No way would I be a model by any means, but my figure suited my frame. I was feeling more active than ever.

But life can't stay perfect like that now, can it? A headline dominated the frame of the news articles, "Idol involved in DUI, severely injured. Can he survive this"?

I stared at the title in bewilderment. Can he? Did he survive? I guess we'll find out.

#bts x plus size reader #chubby reader #bts x reader #angst #bts x reader plus size #bts x y/n #bts x chubby reader #bts x chubby y/n #unrequited love #heartbreak

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waltfrasescazadordepalabras · 2 months ago

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Manual para hacer el amor.

‌Por favor, estimula todos y cada uno de sus sentidos, sus oídos con canciones suaves o de preferencia indaga sobre aquellas que sean sus favoritas, ¿cuáles para cantar?, ¿cuáles para escuchar? y ¿cuáles para bailar?. Si corres con suerte quizá habrá algunas que tengan en común, o regálale una, muéstrale otra, una con la que te recuerde aún después de que el amor se haya ido, si tiene la osadía de irse. Los cuerpos vibran, se estremecen, tiemblan y flotan con una buena melodía. Cántale, has que tu voz retumbe por largo tiempo en su cabeza. Léele tus poemas favoritos, escribe algo especial para ella aunque no seas el mejor de los poetas para después decirle "ven, te voy a leer algo que escribí para ti", no sabes qué tan enorme puede ser un detalle tan pequeño; léele un capítulo de tu libro en turno y mándale una nota de voz tan solo deseándole los buenos días o contándole tu día (bendita tecnología).

‌Tócala, acaríciala, di que eres un experto en masajes (cualquiera se vuelve experto en el cuerpo adecuado), toma su mano mientras beben un café, pequeños movimientos circulares con el pulgar en el dorso de su mano siempre serán bienvenidos, quédate en silencio mientras la miras atentamente y acaricias su mejilla para después sonreírle; abrázala, abrázala mucho, mientras caminan, mientras explotan en carcajadas, desliza tu dedo índice por su antebrazo mientras estudia o lee o hace cualquier cosa; sújetala fuerte de la mano al cruzar la calle, toma su cintura en la menor oportunidad, además debes tocarla con los labios, con los dientes (una mordida es buen ejemplo de caricia), entrelaza tus dedos a sus dedos, enreda tus piernas a sus piernas, cubre sus espalda con toda la extensión de tu pecho, haz una mapa estelar completo de las constelaciones de sus lunares y una cartografía a detalle de su cuerpo, con sus valles, son montes y los hermosos ríos como estrías. Decodifica su cuerpo descubriendo sus puntos erógenos y encarecidamente, no te olvides de dibujar, escribir, delinear con la yema de tus dedos o con tu lengua en su piel arte y poesía.

‌Aspírala, haz tuyo el aroma de su cuerpo al despertar, al bailar, al reír, inhala sus palabras. El olfato tiene una excelente memoria. Llena tus pulmones de su aliento. Llévale gardenias, planta en su jardín un jazmín, invítale unos tacos al pastor y observa y disfruta como enloquece cuando aspira. Deja que huela tu cuello perfumado. Seguro ama el olor de un Malbec o una cerveza oscura. Vayan al bosque o al parque a descubrir a que huelen los eucaliptos, los cedros a dejarse seducir por el olor de los oyameles, la delicia de las "huele de noche" y del azhar. También vayan a la playa a aspirar la brisa salada.

Conoce su comida favorita, sus dulces, el sabor de su helado, sus panes predilectos, sus postres, sus carnes, sus frutas, sus pastas, sus sopas, el número de cucharadas de azúcar, su tipo de café, en fin, sus platillos y bebidas predilectas, si puedes cocínale. También has que pruebe tus besos de múltiples sabores, que pruebe tu pecho, que beba de tu boca, de tu sexo, has que el sabor de tu piel ronde por sus labios tal que pase los días mordiéndolos; que devore tu cuello, que bese tu espalda y que tu lengua sea siempre su mejor condimento.

Llena su mirada de bellas artes: teatro, cine, pintura, literatura, escultura, arquitectura,danza. Has que entrecierre los ojos al mirar fuegos artificiales, siéntense en una banca o en una banqueta a observar cómo pasa la vida, a veces el mejor mirador también puede ser una azotea. Sonríe tanto como puedas, has muecas, vuélvete loco, que nunca se aburra de mirarte o de observarte atenta cuando le hablas, cuando le cuentas un chiste o una historia remasterizada; manda un mensaje para que se asome a mirar la luna, deja una nota entre sus libros, que prefiera leer de tu puño y letra una carta a una novela completa, llévala a la biblioteca, a la librería y que se le ilumine el rostro (la de libros usados guardan un gran encanto). Muéstrale museos y tu predilecta obra de arte, deja que vea a través de tus ojos tus lugares favoritos, las películas con las que lloras y queda con ella para mirar una lluvia de estrellas.

‌El amor no sólo se hace en la cama, con el sexo y las pasiones elevadas, hacer el amor es colarte bajo su piel, tener una habitación en su pecho que solo tú puedes ocupar, es tener la magia para hacerla sonreír y la sutileza para hacerla gemir, quedarte impregnado en sus ojos, ser un eco en su alma, flotar en sus pulmones y que se embriague de tu calma.

‌Y cuando quieras decir que nunca nadie le hará el amor como tú, será porque has sido capaz de tomar su corazón en tus manos, cuando hayas conseguido decirle un "Te quiero" con la mirada, cuando seas capaz de oír las cosas que nunca dice, cuando hayas probado el dolor de sus lágrimas, la felicidades de sus risas y el querer en sus labios, cuando hayas percibido el dulce aroma del deseo y se te revuelvan las tripas y hayas olfateado sus miedos e inseguridades aunque aparente parsimonia y sobre todo cuando hayas masturbado sus ideas, apretujado sus ganas y por fin hayas tocado, acariciado y abrazado su intangible alma.

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cheritzteam-es · 1 month ago

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[MM] Corazones que vibran con la brisa primaveral🌷, Evento de mayo 2025 contigo

Hola, somos Cheritz.

Con la llegada de la primavera estos días, las tardes están llenas de cálido sol 🌞

Y los pétalos de flores bailan suavemente en las calles.

Las redes sociales están llenas de fotos de los paseos de todos,

¡Y notablemente más personas caminan por la calle con helados o bebidas refrescantes en mano! 🍓🍹

Ver estas escenas realmente nos hace sentir que la primavera ha llegado.

¡Así que aquí está nuestro evento de mayo preparado para ti!

En este emocionante día de primavera, ¿con quién te gustaría caminar, coordinator? 💕?

Por favor, ¡consulten el aviso a continuación para más detalles~ 😉

< ① #MM_DíaDePrimavera_TúEresMiPrimavera >

Como la suave brisa primaveral, los sentimientos se acercan - ¿quién es la persona con la que quieres caminar esta primavera?

¡Piensa en ese nombre, el que compartirá este día de primavera contigo!💕

Mientras piensas en esa persona que se asemeja a la primavera, ¡deja un comentario con el hashtag #MM_DíaDePrimavera_TúEresMiPrimavera y la razón por la que elegiste a esa persona!💬✨

Entre los participantes, 15 personas serán seleccionadas mediante sorteo para recibir 50 Relojes de Arena⌛ cada una♥

Período del Evento : 7 de mayo (miércoles) ~ 18 de mayo (domingo) KST

Anuncio de Ganadores : 22 de mayo (jueves) KST

< ② Evento de inicio de sesión en el juego >

¡Durante el período del evento a continuación, inicia sesión en el juego y disfruta con la imagen de título de mayo🎉

¡También hemos preparado recompensas especiales de inicio de sesión que han llegado con la brisa primaveral! 🎁✨

Inicia sesión durante el período del evento para recibir recompensas de inicio de sesión, ¡así que no te lo pierdas y asegúrate de recogerlas todas! 😊🎉

Imagen de Título de Mayo : 8 de mayo (jueves), 2025 ~ 18 de mayo (domingo), 2025 KST

Período de Recompensas de Inicio de Sesión : 10 de mayo (sábado), 2025 ~ 13 de mayo (martes), 2025 KST

Finalmente, durante el período a continuación, habrá un evento de descuento del 20% para [Toalla de Playa de Mystic Messenger] [Set de Fotocards de Mystic Messenger] en Cheritz Market. Si has estado dudando en hacer una compra, coordinator, ¿por qué no aprovechar esta oportunidad? ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌ )

Período de descuento de Cheritz Market : 9 de mayo (viernes) 2 PM ~ 15 de mayo (jueves) 2 PM KST

¡Estas son todas las noticias de mayo que hemos preparado!

En esta temporada de brisas cálidas, esperamos que tu vida diaria esté llena de felicidad

Por favor, crea un día de primavera aún más especial con Mystic Messenger 🌷

Muchas gracias.

De Cheritz.

#mysticmessenger #mysme #mm #cheritz

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brideofmbappe · 2 years ago

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Missing My Baby || Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x reader

Raindrops pelted the windows as Kylian stared out, the pitter-patter echoing the rhythm of his racing heart. He had been restless, consumed by thoughts of you. The heated argument still played in his mind, the words exchanged and the raw emotions that had torn you both apart. He missed you terribly; the laughter, the shared moments, the love. Each day without you felt like an eternity, and his regret weighed heavily on him.

He poured himself into football, channeling his emotions onto the field.

The stadium lights illuminated the pitch, casting an intense glow that mirrored the fire within Kylian. As the opponents charged, he couldn't help but see them as an embodiment of his frustrations.

His movements were fueled by a mix of anger and determination. With each dribble, each pass, and each shot, he unleashed his inner turmoil upon the game. The ball seemed to be an extension of his emotions, driven with a ferocity that only he understood. Scoring felt like a release, a brief moment where the weight on his chest lifted.

But even as he dominated the match, a void remained. In between plays, his mind would drift to thoughts of you. He remembered the way your eyes lit up when you saw him, the soft touch of your hand in his, the countless memories that now seemed distant. The cheers of the crowd were a bittersweet symphony, a reminder of how much he had to prove – not just to them, but to himself as well.

Practice was both a sanctuary and a battleground.

Kylian pushed himself harder, the physical strain helping to momentarily overshadow the emotional pain. Yet, there were moments when he faltered, his concentration slipping as your name echoed in his thoughts. He would catch himself, frustration and sadness clashing within him.

The other players noticed the change, the usually happy Kylian appearing somewhat distant and preoccupied.

Nights were the hardest. Exhausted from training and the game, Kylian would return home, hoping to hear your voice, to share the events of the day as he had done countless times before. He would step into the shower, allowing the water to cascade over him, masking the tears that mingled with it. He would close his eyes and for a fleeting moment, imagine that you were there, that the distance between you had vanished. But reality always came crashing back, a cruel reminder that he was alone.

In those moments, the emptiness felt suffocating. The arguments, the regrets, the echoing silence – they all merged into an overwhelming ache that refused to subside. He would call your name softly, almost expecting you to respond from the next room.

The loneliness would settle in, a heavy weight that seemed impossible to escape. And as the water spiraled down the drain, so did his tears, carrying away some of the pain but never truly washing it all away.

But Kylian wasn't the only one struggling.

You had been grappling with the aftermath of the argument as well. The silence between you was deafening, and the emptiness in your heart was unbearable. Every corner of your life seemed to remind you of Kylian, the joy he had brought, and the love you had shared. Each night was filled with tossing and turning, your thoughts consumed by his absence. His words during the argument had cut deeper than you had ever anticipated. The pain was etched into your every thought, replaying his hurtful phrases over and over again.

You found solace in the little pieces of him that remained. Clinging to his pillow, you would bury your face in it, desperately inhaling the lingering scent that was uniquely his. It was a bittersweet comfort, a connection to a time when you were intertwined in each other's lives. But nothing couldn't fill the void he had left behind, and it certainly couldn't mend the shattered pieces of your heart.

Nights turned into days, and days turned into weeks, but the ache persisted. You moved through life like a ghost, a mere shadow of the vibrant person you once were. The laughter that used to flow so easily now felt like a distant memory. The world had lost its colors; everything seemed to be draped in shades of gray.

Sometimes, in the midst of your loneliness, you swore you could hear his voice. A whisper carried by the wind, a faint echo in an empty room. Your heart would skip a beat, hope sparking briefly before reality crashed down again.

You would find yourself turning around, half-expecting to see him standing there, that familiar grin on his face. But it was always a cruel trick of your imagination.

Part of you longed to reach out, to bridge the gap that had formed between you two. But another part of you held back, afraid of being hurt again, afraid that things might never be the same. The battle waged within you, tearing at your insides and leaving you feeling utterly lost.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. The pain had become a constant companion, an unwelcome guest in the house of your heart. You often wondered if life would ever regain its vibrancy, if you would ever find the strength to forgive or move on.

The uncertainty was suffocating, and you clung to the memories of what once was, hoping that someday, the wounds would heal and you would find a way to piece together the fragments of your shattered heart.

On a rainy night, the sky's tears seemed to mirror the emotions in both your hearts. The doorbell rang, interrupting your thoughts. With cautious hope, you opened the door to find Kylian standing there, soaked to the bone but with a determined look in his eyes. In his trembling hands, he held a bouquet of white roses.

His voice cracked as he began to speak, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I've missed you so much. I can't stand not talking to you. I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry for what I said. It was all my fault, and I wish I could take it back. I regret it all, every word, every moment we've spent apart. I can't bear to be without you. I've been dying to see you, to hold you, to tell you how much you mean to me."

Tears mingled with raindrops on his cheeks as he poured out his heart, his emotions laid bare. The sight of Kylian, usually composed and strong, brought a pang of sympathy to your heart. You couldn't stand to see him like this, broken and vulnerable.

"Kylian," you whispered, your voice a mixture of forgiveness and understanding. "I've missed you too." And with those simple words, the dam holding back your emotions cracked, and tears streamed down your face as well.

Without another word, Kylian pulled you into his arms, his grip strong yet tender. The scent of rain and his cologne filled the air as his embrace melted away the days of distance. The world seemed to fade around you both as he lifted your chin, his eyes locking onto yours.

His lips met yours in a kiss that spoke volumes - a kiss filled with longing, regret, and a burning desire to make things right. It was a kiss that rekindled the fire that had been smoldering within you both. Slowly, he pulled away, his forehead resting against yours as his thumb wiped away the remnants of tears from your cheeks.

"I've been so deprived of your touch ma belle," he admitted, his voice a mixture of husky desire and vulnerability. Without breaking eye contact, he scooped you up in his arms, effortlessly lifting you off the ground. A surprised laugh escaped your lips as he carried you, your heart pounding with a mix of joy and relief.

As he ascended the stairs, each step brought you closer to a reunion you had both been craving. He set you down on the bed, his hands running over your body as if he were memorizing every inch. You could feel him trembling, his breathing coming out ragged as he looked at you, his eyes dark and intense.

You reached for his shirt, pulling it off his shoulders, eager to see him again. He leaned forward, pressing soft kisses along your collarbone, and you felt yourself melt under his touch. His lips brushed against yours, his tongue slipping between them.

You moaned softly, kissing him back, eager for more. His hands slid up your waist, his fingers brushing against your breasts, causing your nipples to harden. Your hands moved to his belt buckle, undoing it with ease, eager to get at his flesh. He stepped back, watching you intently, his eyes dark and hungry.

You could tell he wanted to rip your clothes off, but you weren't about to let that happen just yet. You smiled mischievously as you slowly undid his pants, pulling them down to reveal his boxers.

His cock strained against the fabric, and you couldn't wait to see it again. You ran your hand up the length of his shaft, feeling him throb in response. You gently tugged at his boxers, sliding them down his legs, exposing his cock, already glistening with precum. You looked in his eyes as you took it in your hand, stroking it gently.

He groaned, his eyes closing as he savored the sensation. You kissed his tip, swirling your tongue around the head, tasting him. He gasped, his hands tangling in your hair, pushing you harder against him. You moaned, loving the feel of his cock in your mouth.

You began to bob your head up and down, taking him deeper and deeper, sucking on him like crazy. His hips thrust forward, meeting your motions, urging you to take more. You looked up at him, a smile playing across your face. "Oh yes," you heard him whisper. "That feels so good." You smiled, moving faster, wanting to bring him to climax.

You felt him tense, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he held you close. You kept going, determined not to stop until he came. You felt him explode in your mouth, his cum filling your throat. You followed Kylian's lead as he guided you towards the bed, both of you eager to finish what he had started.

He lay you gently onto the soft sheets, and then knelt between your legs. He spread them wide, inviting him into you. He took you with one long stroke, burying himself deep inside you. You threw your head back, arching your body towards him, your muscles tightening around him. He groaned, his teeth nipping at your neck. Your nails dug into his back, marking him.

Kylian pounded into you hard, making you cry out again and again. He was close, and you knew it. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper into you. "Oh fuck, yes!" you cried, your body convulsing as you came. He groaned, slowing his pace, but never stopping. You clung to him, feeling every inch of him buried inside you.

You couldn't get enough of him. Finally, he gave one last thrust and collapsed on top of you, his body still shaking. You could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He kissed your shoulder, breathing deeply. You turned your head and kissed him softly. "I love you so much mon amour," he said breathless. You smiled, stroking his cheek.

"I love you too kyky."

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flagtism · 8 months ago

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vibran

vibranite (general) term

#♣️#vibran #vibranite #mogai

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bluu3berry · 3 months ago

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Club night!

-You stumble apon a lonesome sleeping hound, as you approach it immediately woke up. You both stared before you awkwardly left, seeing it go back to sleep as it awoken.

ANYWAYS!! finished price of my drawing plbbth!! Iike how the colors came out, very vibranate :33 I also like rhe pose little out of comfort zone!! I even used references

Don't repost reblogs encouraged

@anon-coke @scramble-eg @superbfirnacho @phishyypawss @the-second-reason

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lapetitemortarts · 11 months ago

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Tomba Lacrimata - Roberto Ferri

Roberto Ferri, nacido en 1978 en Taranto, Italia, es un pintor contemporáneo que ha dejado una huella imborrable en el mundo del arte con su estilo neobarroco. Su habilidad para capturar la esencia de la condición humana es inigualable. Profundamente influenciado por Caravaggio, Ferri ha logrado una fusión magistral entre lo clásico y lo moderno, creando obras que vibran con una intensidad emocional sin par. Su vida, aunque mayormente privada, refleja una devoción total al arte, con un enfoque casi obsesivo en alcanzar la perfección técnica y en explorar temas oscuros y apasionados.

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Roberto Ferri, born in 1978 in Taranto, Italy, is a contemporary painter who has left an indelible mark on the art world with his neo-baroque style. His ability to capture the essence of the human condition is unmatched. Deeply influenced by Caravaggio, Ferri has achieved a masterful fusion of the classical and the modern, creating works that vibrate with an unparalleled emotional intensity. His life, though largely private, reflects a total devotion to art, with an almost obsessive focus on achieving technical perfection and exploring dark and passionate themes.

#art #pintura #artist #arts #Roberto Ferri

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crazy-haku-blog · 8 days ago

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Entre las sombras (Anakin x Reader / Lectora)

Resumen: Eres quién se encarga de arreglar las naves de la República y llevas una relación secreta con Anakin, en la cual piensas constantemente si es lo correcto. Género: Fluff, leve angst, romance prohibido.

Posible continuación.

El taller olía a aceite de nave y metal caliente. Tus manos estaban manchadas de grasa hasta los nudillos cuando sentiste su presencia detrás de ti. Ya eran altas horas de la noche, nadie más que tú solía quedarse despierto en el taller, por lo que descartaste la idea de que fuera alguno de tus compañeros.

No necesitabas darte vuelta para saber que era él. Nadie más caminaba con esa mezcla de sigilo y seguridad, como si el mundo entero se adaptara a su paso.

-Llegás tarde -dices, sin mirar atrás. Una mezcla de emoción y enojo luchaban en tu pecho por ser el dominante.

-El Consejo me retuvo -responde Anakin, su voz grave rozándote la nuca-. Como siempre.

Te das vuelta y lo ves ahí, con la túnica aún puesta, los ojos brillando bajo la capucha, como si la oscuridad del taller no pudiera apagar esa intensidad que tanto te atraía. Se veía imponente, tan alto y controlador, exudando esa aura invencible.

-Sabés que si alguien nos ve...

-No lo harán.

Anakin avanza a paso decidido hasta quedar frente a ti. Una de sus manos -esa que no es metálica- acaricia suavemente tu cintura, como si no pudiera evitar tocarte aunque el universo se viniera abajo. Sus dedos tocan tu piel, dejando suaves caricias y compartiendo su calor corporal. Anakin adoraba tenerte cerca de ese modo.

-No deberías estar aquí, general-murmurás, aunque tu cuerpo ya está reaccionando a su cercanía.

-¿Quieres que me vaya? -pregunta él, con ese tono desafiante, sabiendo que no lo vas a echar.

Y no lo hacés.

Lo besás primero. Con hambre. Con rabia contenida. Con deseo acumulado en días de miradas cruzadas y palabras disfrazadas en pasillos llenos de vigilancia. Esos momentos robados, fugaces, pero intensos. Como éste.

Anakin te alza para sentarte sobre la mesa del taller, las herramientas vibran al caer, pero ninguno de los dos presta atención. Por un instante, el templo, el Consejo, el Código, todo desaparece. Solo están tus labios, su respiración agitada, el pulso acelerado que parece sincronizado entre los dos.

-Te pienso todo el tiempo -susurra contra tu cuello-. Incluso cuando no debo.

Te ríes bajito. Luchando contra las emociones que azotan tu interior. Sabes que esta mal, te duele reconocer que lo suyo es difícil, pero a la vez no puedes dejarlo.

-Y aún así vienes. Arriesgás todo por esto.

-No es esto. Eres tú.

Silencio. Cargado. Intenso.

Y entonces lo ves dudar, solo un segundo. Porque es un Jedi. Porque está entrenado para ignorar el amor, el apego, el miedo. Pero tú no eres parte de ese mundo. Y eso te hace libre. Y, quizás, peligrosa.

Tus dedos estaban por acariciar de forma familiar su uniforme, hasta que recuerdas que tus manos están sucias. Una sensación de incomodidad y tristeza se hunde en tu pecho, por que no solo es grasa o aceites de máquinas lo que te preocupa, sino la clara distinción que hay entre ambos.

-Anakin... -empiezas a decir algo, tal vez una advertencia, tal vez una despedida. Siempre realizas amagues.

-No digas nada -te interrumpe, acariciándote la mejilla con una sorpresiva suavidad. Es notable la tensión en su cuerpo, pero a pesar de todo a lo que este sometido, intentaba tratarte con suavidad -. Solo... déjame este momento.

Y tú se lo das. Como siempre. Porque sabés que al salir por esa puerta, vuelve a ser el Caballero Jedi, el Elegido, el Padawan de Obi-Wan.

La noche cae sobre Coruscant, pero el taller sigue iluminado por la luz cálida de un único panel en la pared. Afuera, el tráfico aéreo zumbaba como un río infinito de luces. Adentro, todo era quietud.

Anakin se recostó junto a ti en el catre improvisado entre mantas viejas y piezas de nave que habías apartado a un lado. No era un lugar cómodo ni lujoso. Pero era suyo. De ustedes. Y eso lo hacía sagrado.

Volver a tu casa resultaba un desperdicio, si de todas formas ya era demasiado tarde. Faltaban horas para que tu turno comenzará nuevamente, así que te permitiste recostarse en su pecho, pensando muy en lo profundo que te merecías ese trato.

Su brazo estaba rodeando tu cintura, su otra mano jugaba distraídamente con un mechón de tu pelo. No hablaban. No hacía falta. Cada respiración, cada roce lento de labios, cada caricia en silencio, era una confesión que las palabras no sabrían sostener.

-¿Te vas a quedar hasta que salga el sol? -preguntaste, apenas audible.

-No puedo -responde sin moverse-. Pero voy a quedarme todo lo que pueda.

Apoyás tu rostro en su pecho. Podés escuchar los latidos. Rápidos. Humanos. No como los de un Jedi que domina sus emociones. No esta noche.

-Esto no es justo -susurrás, otra vez envuelta en miedo.

Anakin aprieta su abrazo. Te besa la frente.

-No lo es -admite-. Pero no importa. Porque acá... entre estas paredes... eres lo único real y que importa para mí.

Tus dedos recorren las costuras de su túnica con mucha delicadeza, habías limpiado tus manos anteriormente, sintiéndote ahora libre de poder tocarlo, memorizando su forma, como si tuvieras que reconstruirlo en tu mente cada vez que se vaya. Porque sabés que mañana va a pasar junto a vos en un pasillo y no va a mirarte. Va a ser distante. Frío. Invisible.

Pero esta noche es tuyo. Solo tuyo.

Y aunque el miedo a ser descubiertos late detrás de cada caricia, el amor inocente -ese que se siente como un refugio en medio de la tormenta- les gana la batalla. Una y otra vez.

Anakin se inclina hacia ti. Te besa despacio. Largo. Como si ese beso pudiera sostenerlo hasta que vuelvan a encontrarse. Y, de algún modo, sabés que sí.

-Siempre voy a volver -dice finalmente, rozando tu nariz con la suya-. Siempre.

Y esa promesa, hecha entre sombras y susurros, se convierte en el único escudo que los protege del mundo allá afuera.

#anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x you #anakin x reader #anakin x you #star wars anakin #star wars x reader #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen #hayden

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