#Bad Moon Art Studio | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cryptfile · 4 months ago

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⋆౨ৎ˚ ࣪ over the moon [ benedict bridgerton x wife!reader ]

summary — based on a request but went slightly off with it aka when your husband starts to stay up painting till late you start plotting a good plan to make him go to bed with you and actually rest instead.

warnings — pure fluff, since the rumors of sophie being latina sparked, personally went crazy with the information so it’s implied that reader is latina also, mentions of sex (nothing explicit,,, implied as part of a establish relationship).

side notes — English is not my first language, so if you find any mistakes i’m sorry in advance. this is for my latin girlies out here reading in tumblr, working extra hard to translate your works to bring new content to the page, tkm <3 reblogs, comments and likes are much appreciated,,,as brittany broski once said: i'm a benedict bridgerton believer, i'm a benedict bridgerton ally.

You really didn’t know what you were getting into when you accepted Benedict’s marriage proposal.

Nobody told you that loving an artist is a tricky thing, cause while you’re always giving Ben’s new ideas, you hate him at the same time when he’s at the art studio until late, painting as if the absence of light it’s not enough to separate him from the canvas.

God, it just drives you crazy. He lacks of a schedule so he’s able to keep on painting till the rays of light start to appear again in the window he leaves opened all night long, and you’re afraid he’s going to catch a cold if he continues with his bad habits.

It suddenly hits him, that inspiration he ends up being the victim of, kissing you quickly as he escapes so fast you aren’t able to say anything when he disappears leaving you alone, you tolerate it at first, but the second? The third? He's just testing your patience at this point.

Your marriage has never been a troubled one, your husband does not make you mad most of the time and you enjoy being in love, those little things that made your heart skip a beat. You enjoy talking to him at night, spend your day in his art room as he encourages you to keep on writing that mystery book you're so into lately, bickering about how unfair life is for women your age — Hell, woman of all ages.

You love the sound of his laugh when he's careless about everything else, when he admits he doesn't want to go that night's party cause he just wants to stay home and fuck you senseless, his way of seeing art and explain it to you as something totally opposite as what you really think it is.

Thing is, you choose to marry Benedict Bridgerton cause you're indeed, head over heels with him. You've fall for the charming smile and sassy attitude that made you finally settle after years of being called a spinster. He finds the way to intrude the walls of the maze that was your heart and managed to plant a flag in the middle of it when you're confident enough to talk to him, let alone be seen in public after all the rumors you've heard that he was looking for a wife that season.

Even when you try to avoid him, he makes you fall in no time, following you around like a lost puppy, going to your house to spend time with your family, convincing everyone he's desperate to try the food your nana makes, cause you've talked about how good it taste all the time.

It's almost like he tricked you into make you love him, to have you between the brushes dipped in a funny smell water. He has you hooked by the first months and soon after? God, he has no education when he makes you love him, how he obliges you to stain yourself with all the things he was his daily life mixed with yours functioning so well.

It's a thorn nailed in the palm of your hand, those moments of privacy when the moon evolves you and your lover completely that are now being taken away. It's selfish, surely it's something childish so you don't want to say anything to your friends, or even Daphne Basset when she visits you to have an afternoon of tea free from her kids, asking you about how everything's going days before you came up with this great idea.

You can take the matter by your hands, that's why the next time Benedict's painting at midnight your mind works like a machine.

After all the time together you happen to know him more than you know yourself, the things he enjoys what he dislikes the most — So it's not very hard to plot against your husband.

Benedict doesn't seem to hear you when you silently glide through the half-open door, unaware as the light of the candle lights is not enough to illuminate the whole room, the fire he kept close to the canvas he was currently working on. He looks handsome all concentrated. His brows furrowed as he takes the pigments with his bare hands and mix them in his wood palette to get that exact color he was looking for. A shade of pink for a piece he hasn't shown you officially yet.

"What are you doing up so late?" you ask coyly when you are close to him, hearing how his breath hitched for a second before noticing it's you, your hands coming from behind just to intrude in his space close to the easel. He's taller than you, but it doesn't stop you from standing in your tiptoes, pressing your cheek against the crook of his neck as you hugged him.

You cannot hide that you're tired. You lost the track of time when you got out of bed, so when you have your husband close and finally smell that nice and subtle aroma he carries with him, you relax in his back, the sound of his heartbeat loud against your ear.

"You scared me for a second," he says with a grin, muscles relaxing under your touch. "Didn't hear you coming in."

He has dry paint on his neck, so while you're cleaning his skin with one hand, he leans into you, back pressed against your chest seeking for your warmth, that contact he always seems to enjoy, your attention in all the ways he can get it.

“Bed’s cold without you” you say, fingers on his recently trimmed hair. "Done waiting for'you."

He has the nerve to laugh at your words, slowly at first, the sound of it making your skin shiver. He's going to defend his choices, you know it, and you hate how much you enjoy it, the way he always seems to find an excuse making you totally offended as you retort something equally ridiculous.

"Just thirty more minutes I promise," he says pressing a kiss in the palm of your hand he so gently grabs. "If you stay with me like this, can do the work in twenty."

"You can fool anyone else with that Ben, not buying it" to be honest, you're just trying to contradict everything he says, far from what you thought doing first when you plotted against him. "You said the same last week, amor. Not falling for any more lies."

"Not falling huh?" he asks, lowering the wood palette to look at you, his eyes meeting yours when you're so comfortable pressing your chin on his shoulder, looking at the painting he was doing — "You've learned the lesson then?"

"Twenty more minutes mean an hour in Benedict's language," he's the one that's now offended when his mouth opens in disbelief "Turns out I know my husband, and we both know that’s way more than twenty minutes.”

He loves it. It’s almost a secret, but he loves how you demand his company, the way you don’t fold against anything and you stand for what you believe. He loves how you claim to know him, your lavender smell filling every single space available in the room as he smiles happily in response. He was so unsure of marrying you at first, but now he doesn’t know what his life would look like without you in the picture.

“Ah, I’m guilty as charge” he says, his own hand going to his chest like it saddens him to hear you talk like that. “Thought you wanted me to paint more.”

You've been encouraging him to show his art to more people, a small gallery that displayed his talent, but that’s using your words for his advantage.

“You little bastard, that’s unfair coming from you.”

“Woah woah, you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Kiss you even” you stick your tongue out, and he’s suddenly turning you around to place a kiss in your forehead, making you move in front of him instead — “You wouldn’t even imagine.”

Benedict’s a romantic. A poet at heart, so he doesn’t let any opportunity slip to show his affection, his infinite devotion to you. His heart flutters in his chest and suddenly he’s kissing you, staining your white nightgown with the fresh paint of his hands and not caring about it at the slightest. Kisses you like he missed you, like he didn’t see you the whole day when in reality you’ve spent all day in the same house, baking cookies cause you’ve suffered from a burst of love to the kitchen.

“You’re not convincing me” you say between kisses, hands pressing you closer to him. “I’m not leaving this room without you.”

He chuckles at your words — “Not even ten minutes?”

He’s devastatingly handsome in a way that makes you stare at him, wonder what you did to make him so interested in you, so attracted to the point he has to marry you.

"No Bridgerton. Ni diez minutos." To be honest, the accent just makes him go weak at the spot. It's pathetic, but he cannot help it, his brain melts at the sound of your voice, even if he doesn't understand much of what you're saying. "Let's go to bed."

You know it's a weapon, your lips are on his face, and he forgets about everything else: How he's supposed to continue on working when your lips are kissing every inch of his face? Seems like an impossible task now that his hands are on your waist and all he can notice are your pink lips, how you're looking at him through half-lidded eyes cause you're sleepy, an smile that eclipses the rest.

Benedict's no longer worried of his painting. Hell, he cannot seem to remember what shade of pink he was so invested in finding before, but he don't care at all when he's the one now leaning in, kissing you with fervent love as he traces the outline of your lips, almost asking for permission to invade you before deepening the contact, tangling his fingers in the strands of your hair cause he simply cannot get enough from you.

"Take me to bed then, my beautiful wife."

He does not protest next. He loves every second of it, the slight force, your gentle touch when your guiding him through the cottage you two share in Wiltshire, the goosebumps in his own skin when you managed to get what you want.

You win. It's a war that Benedict never intended to win, a disaster he knew it would end up with the result of him leaving his work half done cause he cannot resist to the idea of being tangled with you in such an intimate way. He sleeps so well with you on his arms, burying his head on your hair as he relaxes beneath the sheets, the contact of your skin enough to make him have the best night sleep.

Can he resist it? He's neck deep. Talked about it with his brothers before, drinking too much as the words slurred together and he admits how you got him wrapped around your finger, so in love he would do anything to please you, let alone have your full attention — They surely made fun of him, but is it his fault? Being so in love with his wife?

"Can't say no to you," he says defeated "You know it."

In the privacy of the room you two share, you're washing his hands with a wet cloth, preventing him from getting the sheets dirty before pulling his linen shirt to the floor. It's so quickly, he don't seem to realize what you're doing until he's already in bed, covered with the thick duvet as he searches for you.

He realizes now he should have listened to you before, cause his back is surely happy now that he's able to rest, the weariness of being standing so many hours now falling over him as his eyes began to close by themselves.

"When are you going to stop working so late?" You ask, pressing your cheek against his chest as you hugged him, getting closer to him even when you stole more than half of the bed in the process. The second son of the Bridgerton family does not say anything about it, but instead, enjoys how needy you are of his touch, how you want him around.

"Inspiration always come late, angel" he tries to defend himself as you rolled your eyes. “Maybe it’s a curse.”

"Then i’m afraid i’ll have to drag you to bed every night," you protest. "Cause i'm not letting you stay all night in that studio, crazy man."

"Miss me too much in bed?"

"Hm, what if I do?"

"Cannot blame you," Benedict admits later, using the only traces of force he has left to caress your hair, fingertips against your scalp in a gentle massage. "I'm always missing you when you're not around."

Your heart skips a beat: How could you not be head over heels with this man? He always find the right words, what to say exactly.

Gently, your face come up to press a soft kiss against his lips, a quick one that’s not enough for Benedict when he makes you stay in the same position as he steals a much longer one.

Life is simple with him by your side, you know it cause you might as well be over the moon when you’re alone with Benedict Bridgerton.

Every. single. day.

my masterlist.

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #benedict x reader #bridgerton x reader #ben x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fluff #cryptfile // bridgerton

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hwallazia · 5 months ago

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OCEAN, BED, TATTOO – 정우영

synopsis . in which wooyoung tattoos your skin with ink... and with his lips.

pairing . jung wooyoung & fem! reader

genre . smut (mdni!), fluff & comfort, established relationship, tattoo artist! wooyoung

taglist . @bro-atz @purplenimsicle @vampzity @iykyunho | comment your username if you wanna be added to my permanent taglist! ♡

word count . 2,1k

DISCLAIMER! dom! wooyoung (he’s a teasing menace here) sub! (and very whiny) reader, fingering, clit play, light scratches, unprotected sex (boooo👎), tattoos involved, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise, petnames (my love, sweetheart, youngie & more). lmk if i missed anything.

NIC’S NOTES hey, i’m back at the game again after a long month full of exams !! i’m soo glad, i missed writing so much ♡ well, enjoy <3

tattoos aren’t as bad as people say. they look cool on your skin and they are aesthetically gorgeous. when you were about nine years old, your older sister, a few months after she came of age, got a tattoo of a beautiful, fine mandala on her right leg, and from that moment on, you were committed to tattooing your skin—probably the forearm, you often thought.

and you finally did it when you turned 20. with your sister’s company, you arrived at the tattoo parlor in search of a certain “wooyoung”, who would be the artist who would draw the permanent (and hopefully pretty) lines on your skin.

“excuse me. um, we’re looking for wooyoung? he’s supposed to be the tattoo artist for my sister.” your sister said to the man behind an old oak desk that seemed to be some kind of reception, her body leaning against the wood, elbows resting on it.

“guess you’re looking for me then” a voice not participating in the conversation intervened. since you heard it coming from behind you, you turned around. just to meet the most good-looking, jaw-dropping, mouth-watering man you’ve ever seen, his figure leaning against the door’s frame that seemed to lead to his studio with his arms crossed in front of his chest, his notoriously pump chest.

“you must be yn.” he continued as he approached you and your sister’s position. “hi. i’m wooyoung.” he extended his right arm, placing his left hand under it. oh, he looks like a prince, a tattooed prince, but hush. “well, do you want to come in alone or do you want your sister to accompany you?”

fortunately, your sister could read you like a book. so when she saw your momentary inability to formulate coherent sentences —she’d later study the reasons why you suddenly were flabbergasted— and before you could say whatever thought your short-circuited mind processed, she answered for you. “go on. i’ll wait here. sometimes you gotta face situations without your dear older sister’s help, right?” she said as she ruffled your hair playfully, slightly messing up your hairstyle. an annoyed huff escaped from your lips with a small pout in reply.

a cute, quiet snort came from wooyoung, your embarrassed heart racing a little at the sound of it. “come on, then” he tilted his head sharply indicating you to enter his studio. you walked side by side towards its door and before you both could pass the threshold, he stepped aside the door’s frame and extended his arm, his fingertips pointing to the inside of the room.

“ladies first” he uttered in a honey-dripping tone that made your heart skip a beat. and the warm smile he gave you after you locked gazes? double kill. heat flushed through your cheeks, now turning into a more reddened hue. when wooyoung saw your adorable, bashful face turning into a cute tomato, his eyes closed even more. two beautiful, heartwarming crescent moons decorating his eyes. you bowed your head slightly at the embarrassment and entered the studio. abstract art pieces hanging on the wall; a melting-type clock on the side of one of them; a few framed diplomas embellishing a narrow decorative table located below a large window, which gave the most beautiful view of the busy downtown of seoul and, at the same time, allowed the entry of divine natural light, changing the ambience completely. he also had some plants here and there.

“so, what did you have in mind for today?” he spoke as he reached for his chair, grabbing it by its back and pulling it to him so he could sit on it. his arms finding support on the top of the chair as his upper body vaguely leaned against it. “is it your first time?” he asked and turned around to prepare the tattoo machine by grabbing the black ink he’d possibly need.

“yes, um. it is, actually” you stuttered, trying to sound as clear and understandable as possible. “i thought about tattooing the word ‘resilience’ on my forearm. is that okay?” your eyes wondered between wooyoung’s fingers and the veins that came from them, a bottle of isopropyl alcohol in his right hand.

“of course it’s okay. you’re the boss in here.” he chuckled a little at your stammering tone. ‘well of course it is, you’re the one getting the tattoo and paying for it anyway, so duh’ a bothering voice in your head replied to you, a soft huff from you was heard. “so, do you have an idea of how you want it to look?” he continued while he stretched the latex glove on his left hand and then replicating the action on his right.

“yeah, let me get my ph-” you started to say as you touched your upper body, and then your hips, and then your pockets, and then your pants... you had totally forgotten your phone, in which you kept the idea you saw on pinterest the other day of the tattoo you wanted to get. a murmured curse coming off your lips when you realized. “i, uh. i don’t have my phone with me right now. i... forgot it at home.”

“oh. well don’t worry! it happens to me more times than i’d like.” he laughed not too exaggeratedly. he wasn’t trying to piss you off by giggling at your disgraceful situation; he was comforting you in the best way he could because, after all, you were strangers. “hm. so do you wanna reschedule or-”

you didn’t think twice before responding by shaking your hands in front of you. “no! i trust you with it! it’s just a word anyway.” the words easily slipped out of your tongue, not a hint of doubt in the spark that glimmered in your orbs.

“but it’s your first tattoo-” wooyoung replied with notorious insecureness in his tone and you, unbothered, interrupted him.

“come on!” you spoke as you lifted your dark purple oversized sweater’s sleeve, revealing your soft skin to his fox-like eyes which doubted for a second before resting his slim, latex-covered fingers on your exposed skin. you were able to see a very close-up of the touch of his fingers against your skin, your hair standing on end as a result. his fingers sent shivers and sparks down your whole anatomy, a weird feeling forming in your belly and chest. you felt how his touch dragging flowers through the meadow of your complexion, creating the most beautiful garden.

who would say that that boy who marked your skin for life with his art would now be the one with whom you wake up every day, the one to whom you trust your most intimate secrets, the one whom you love and kiss every day. the one that makes you see stars.

like now, fucking his fingers sloppily from all the right angles into your wet cunt.

“youngie, wait i- hgh- i don’t wanna cum yet.” you whine as you grip the silk, champagne-colored sheets underneath you. he has spent a generous amount of time prepping you, playing way too much with your sensitive clit. and that has brought you to the brink of abyss. you want to cum when he finally fills you with his rock-hardened cock, but wooyoung seems to have no intention of stopping. he is a hundred-percent committed in making you cum as much as you physically can.

“huh? what’s that, sweetheart? didn’t quite catch that.” he mocks at you, deepening his index and middle fingers inside you and putting his thumb to work on your bud’s stimulation. a desperate cry bubbling out your throat. “but stop crying, baby. so you can respond.” his non-working hand releases its firm grip on your hip and moves up to your cheek to stroke it in the most gently way.

your voice lets you down, your tone drowning in the blubber that erupts from your lips once your body feels the consequences of wooyoung’s incessant thumb swaying over your clit. the palms of your hands sheltering your reddened cheeks.

he chuckles at the sight of you, “covering your face when you’re dripping all over my fingers?” he withdraws his fingers from your warm interior, your walls clenching around nothing due to the nostalgia of being satisfyingly full. he then covers your hands with his and takes them away from your blissed expression and pecks your lips briefly. “shameless.”

he gets on his knees in between your legs, his hands pushing them apart before he bends over your figure, trapping you between his strong, tattooed arms. you have tried in the past putting your legs on his shoulder; and yes, he does push further than usual, but it was an uncomfortable and painful position for you. so you opted for simpler things, nothing so difficult so that it replaces pleasure with pain. wooyoung always puts your satisfaction over his, doing everything he can to give you the most toe-curling orgasm every time. and he never fails.

your hands instinctively find comfort on his back, your fingers mindlessly stroking his back tattoo. “i’m putting it in, love.” he murmurs against the crook of your neck as he pushes in further and further, your nails digging onto his bare back. the combination of a masculine grunt and a whimper floats in the air, which is getting heavier and heavier.

“holy shit- ah, wooyoung. you’re so.. fucking deep.” you blubber as you feel his cockhead faintly rubbing your g-spot. his thrusts are precise and strong, driving you quickly over the edge. his sighs blowing on your face as almost invisible clouds because of the humidity generated by the situation.

“fuck baby. you feel so soft and warm. and tight” he exhals, some strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. he does some kind of push-up to come down your face and kiss your swollen, red lips frantically. your tongues fighting and his winning over yours. “wanna stay inside you forever. ah.” wooyoung pants out his words, hips still going and knocking a little more roughly against your cunt with every push.

“i know you can give me a little more, though” he pants raspily, totally out of breath. your fucked-out mind can only process something about ‘wanting more’ or something like that, you don’t know, way too gone to even say your name without stumbling with your own words. you can only understand what he says when his very familiar touch lingers strokes on your clit, so swollen and tired of overstimulation. the cute, pleasured sounds coming out of you only encouraged him to speed up his fingers and his hips as well. he practically is wanting to break you completely until you aren’t able to even recognize where you are, your name or how much is two plus two. and wooyoung finds your current state quite amusing, so he starts to imitate you, mocking your broken sobs and pathetic mewls exaggeratedly.

“if only you could listen to you right now. but you aren’t even listening to me, are you, doll?” he teases, enjoying a bit too much the tears that pitifully stream down your face profusely. your eyebrows furrow together, your thighs shake more than usual and you start feeling lightheaded; you’re about to fall into the abyss of pleasure and wooyoung is more than happy to receive your warm, dripping juices.

“oh fuck, youngie. ’m gonna cum. you’re gonna make me cum. please let me... fuck... please, i—” you give up on the rambling begging and let yourself just helplessly whine and mewl.

“i know, my love. go on, cum for your youngie. make me proud, angel.” he encourages you, his fingers keeping a steady pace on your bud as well as his thrusts. three or four more are more than enough to melt you under his divine touch as your throat lets out the very last shriek of the night. “ah you’re so good, so fucking tight for your youngie, aren’t you? ugh” he shakes above you as he lets out a moan that sounded more like a cry. he quickly, but carefully pulls out, your body shuddering at the sudden emptiness, releasing hot shots of cum over your belly, painting your navel’s surroundings with pearl-like spurts.

he finally lets his body surrender to the overwhelming tiredness, collapsing above you.

“wooyoung. love. get off of me, i can’t breathe.” you speak, receiving a drowned and unbothered ‘mm’ as a response. you chuckle with the little strength you have left, “at least get off of my arm?” you try to negotiate with him the dumbest thing ever. but he finally does as told and moves a little to the side, releasing your right arm from his weight, “there you go. see? it wasn’t that hard.”

“hush. i’m sleepy. and tired” he mentions separately in a grumpy tone. of course, how could you forget the grumpiness that wraps your boyfriend when he runs out of energy?

“fine, babygirl.”

“don’t call me that!”

| masterlist

#© hwallazia #ateez #ateez smut #jung wooyoung #jung wooyoung smut #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #wooyoung os #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic

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k-hotchoisan · 1 year ago

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Yunho smut with his hands? 🥴

Oh god I love his hands I want them around my neck so bad. My choking kink is off the fucking charts whenever Yunho’s hands are present. Here’s something for you, pretty. Enjoy Yunho and his pretty little hands.

Synopsis: what are the odds of getting a tattoo and getting fucked by your tattoo artist because you cannot stop staring at his fuckin hands

Warnings/genres: tattoo au!, mention of needles, slight size kink, choke kink, unprotected sex, hands kink, cream pies, fingering

A/n: I am so sorry for the amount of typos. I fucking swear this isn’t what usually happens omg

You stood before the apartment door, double checking that you got the right address—yeah you definitely did. He did mention that it was a home-based studio. Your first tattoo appointment and you were so nervous because you don’t know what to expect. Hongjoong had assured you to just go with an open mind. You didn’t know much about your tattoo artist, only knowing that his name was Yunho, nonetheless, you did really like his art style, and you soon settled on him with Hongjoong’s advice.

Back to present, you pushed the doorbell, and it echoes through the apartment. There is a silence before the doorknob clicks. The door pulls back, and before you, stood a really tall male. His sharp eyes make him look very intimidating and for a moment your heart races, and you wonder if you stopped into the wrong house.

“You are?” He asks, and rumbles you even more because his voice is so fucking deep for no reason.

You manage to find the voice stuck in your throat, as you reply, “y/n, here for a 7pm tattoo appointment with Yunho?”

His face softens immediately as his eyes brighten up. “Ah right! Yunho’s client! Come in. I’ll get Yunho in a bit”. He ushers you in as you remove your shoes.

You step inside, soaking in the interior of the apartment. It was definitely a shared space—the common areas were spacious, maybe just spacious enough to serve for two people. It was a pretty clean looking, monochromatic layout.

“Oh right, my name’s Mingi. Song Mingi, but you can call me Mingi”, he introduces himself brightly, his smile contagious. “I’m his room mate.” You smile back.

“Please excuse the mess by the way”, he laughs as he leads you through the corridor, and the both of you are standing in front of a wooden door. Mingi knocks the door before saying “Hyung, I’m coming in” with a raised voice. He pushes the door handle down and the door opens. The subtle hint of lavender hits you from the humidifier and it instantly relaxes you.

On the cushioned rolling stool sat your tattoo artist, his frame is as tall as Mingi’s, messy brunette locks tussled on his head. He’s in simple black shirt but he still looks so fucking good. He’s absorbed on his iPad, still sketching out the little details of what seems to be your tattoo.

You feel your heart beat a little too quickly the moment your eyes land on him because you did not expect him to be that attractive.

And you are gonna be stuck with him for at least a couple of hours together.

Mingi raps the door again, and that’s when Yunho looks up, and you take a good look at his face. He doesn’t look like whatever you expected him to look like, well, not that you had any pictures to reference him from to begin with. But definitely, he is pretty fucking good looking. You stay rooted at the entrance of the door, mooning over your tattoo artist in a tight black shirt while he eyes you up and down with a soft smile.

“Oh right! My apologies”, Yunho finally speaks and he sounds like honey, and it suddenly makes you slightly thirsty. “Hey. I’m Yunho. We finally meet”, he greets with a hand up.

His fucking hands. Oh my fucking gods. He has a silver ring cuffing his index finger. Then he beckons you to go over to him. Mingi tilts his head to Yunho’s direction before saying that he needs to leave, giving you a small nod before shutting the door.

You have no choice but to inch closer to Yunho, who’s smiling at you like a fucking golden retriever, and you wonder to yourself ‘this dude is a fucking tattoo artist?’ Yunho beckons you to take seat on an empty stool across him as he mentions to give him a couple more minutes to finish up the design draft. You nod, even if he doesn’t see it since his attention is back on his iPad. You quietly stare at the way he makes his strokes with his Apple Pencil.

And you get a closer look at this long, slender fingers. You’ve never met anyone with such pretty hands before, yet the way he holds the pencil is so gentle, and almost attractive for some reason. It’s especially the way his fingers are veiny and long—his joints are angled in such a way it frames his fingers so fucking prettily. Yunho looks up and catches your gaze, and you flinch slightly, thinking you are caught in the act.

“Eager to see your design?” He asks playfully, a small smile tugging the corner of his lips. Oh thank fucking god.

“Yeah of course. I wonder what you came up with”, you quickly say, pretending to peek over at the iPad.

He brings up the iPad higher to his eye level and it’s the way his fingers curls around the tablet. He flips it over to you and you soak in the design he drew out for you. It’s what you wanted. You also don’t miss out how clean and neatly trimmed his fingernails are.

“Is it to your taste? Got any last minute changes you want before I print it out?” He asks, as he stands up and walks over to the printer. You shake your head slowly, trying not to swoon at how deliciously tall he is.

He beams. “Great! Then I’ll print a couple of sizes out. Take your pick okay? I’ll go grab some water for you.” You nod as he disappears out of the room through the door. The printer starts up and it begins to print out the stencil.

You look around the room. Despite it looking small, it was pretty cozy looking. The room has comfortable lighting, with lamps, which you assume are for the tattoo work. There’s a small space just behind the empty stool you’re seated on, with smaller studio lights pointing towards the wall, which you deduce is probably where he takes photos of his finished products. His tattoo machine sat near to the tattoo bed, which was cling wrapped for sanitary purposes, including the pillows. Finally, a small desktop computer set up was against the wall, perpendicular to the small studio lights, with a printer at the side. The door knocks, a short pause before it pushes open, and it’s Yunho with a drink in hand.

He walks over to you and hands it to you, his fingers brushing against yours and it takes you so much nerves to have any wild thoughts. You take a sip to distract yourself as you hear scissors cutting through the tracing paper. As you open your eyes, Yunho is so fucking near your face that it makes your heart jump.

“Oh gosh! Did I scare you?” Yunho laughs as he takes the cup from your hand. “My apologies.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine. You just move so quietly”, you joke. Yunho smiles in reply as he places the cup on his desk.

“I need you to lift your shirt up for me”, Yunho instructs, staring at your abdomen.

Fuck, for a moment your mind plunges into some unknown territory. You forgot that your tattoo placement was above your hip. You roll the fabric up high enough, and you fucking jump when you feel Yunho’s fingertips brush against your skin, on your waist. “It’s here right? The placement that you wanted?” He confirms, his touch not leaving your skin. “Yeah”, you manage out.

He cuts a piece of tape to adhere the stencil onto your skin before bringing you over to the full length mirror right by the bed to let you confirm your placement. After a few adjustments (and hell of of him touching your waist with his bare hands which was definitely giving you insane haywire thoughts), you came to a placement which you are satisfied with. He sticks the stencil to your skin, much like a temporary tattoo, pulling out the tracing paper and letting it dry, before having you lie down in the bed as he prepared his inks.

“First tattoo?” He asks as he checks his gun.

“Yeah”, you reply, playing with your fingers from the nervousness.

Yunho chuckles. “That placement might hurt a little though. You’re a brave one.”

You only release a nervous laugh—wondering if it is for the tattoo or because of Yunho. He turns to you, tugging against his ring to remove it before snapping black latex gloves on before pushing your shirt higher. You bite you lip.

How the fuck does his hands look even better gloved? The black latex only enhances the length and shape of his hands, which curls around his tattoo gun.

“I’m gonna start now. Let me know if you need a break, yeah?” Yunho assures. You know it’s probably a customer service thing but god, why did he have to be so attentive?

He switches on the gun and it buzzes. He begins tattooing and sure enough, the placement you picked definitely hurt quite like a bitch, but you force yourself to pull through it.

“Is this okay? Does it hurt?” He asks before continuing.

“It does, but I think I’ll be fine”, you reply, thinking of something else to distract yourself from the pain. Throughout the session, Yunho makes conversations with you, making you laugh when you probably shouldn’t because he was stabbing needles at your waist but still. He was amazing at breaking the ice, especially in such a seemingly intimate space. You feel yourself unwind a little, and although it still hurt, you don’t feel so tense anymore. Nonetheless, you could not shake the thought about his hands running down your body every time you glance at Yunho doing your tattoo.

“Yeah, I don’t know why I even wanted to get a tattoo when I have a shit pain threshold”, you say in between soft giggles to cover up the pain and soreness that was starting to sink in.

“But you’re doing so well for me”, Yunho replies absentmindedly with a smile. Your head spins the moment he says that, butterflies were invading your stomach. What the fuck was that even? Now your stomach in twisting into knots when he’s praising you like that.

“We’re almost done. Hold on a little longer for me yeah?” He assures again, as you bear through the pain. It’s over quickly as he smoothes over your tattoo with a final swipe of the paper towel. He moves back a little to admire his work. He looks satisfied. He pulls his gloves off and sits you up gently, your stomach still fluttering as his fingers brush against your skin. He brings you to the full length mirror, and there you admire how gorgeous the tattoo looks.

“It looks amazing” you gasp, turning your side to have a better view of it. Yunho looks proud. He has his phone in his hand now and requests a few photos, which you obliged to of course. He adjusts your shirt before snapping a few pics.

“I really like how this turned out,” you gush. “Thank you Yunho.”

Yunho shakes his head. “Thank you for entrusting me to it, especially as your first tattoo.”

You laugh in response, and you don’t realise that he’s kneeled down at your waist, preparing to stick on the second skin. He sticks it on and instructs you on proper tattoo care before making another appointment for a touch up. You thank him and left the apartment, heart still beating in your ears.

You’ve developed a way too big of a crush on your tattoo artist now.

The touch up appointment came way too quickly than you thought. To be fair, you were still not over it, and as much as the tattoo scabbing and itch , it couldn’t compare to way Yunho’s hands kept brushing against your waist, as he checks on your tattoo. But in the past month, all you think about was Yunho and his fucking hands. Even now, when he’s only taking a look at your healed tattoo, your mind in swimming in the most dirtiest places you wanted him to touch.

You shut your eyes and bite your lip so no weird sound comes out from your mouth. You feel Yunho’s breath right at your waist as it tickles your skin, a soft sigh escapes your lips as your tattoo artist continues to rub against the tattoo.

And it doesn’t go unnoticed by Yunho.

He could very easily just tug your pants down and you would let him because fuck, he’s all you can think about now. Yunho stands up, and definitely notices how flushed your skin is looking, and he decides to test waters. He traps you at the tattoo bed, and you hear your heart in your ears as he inches closer. Now he’s pretty much towering over you as his fingers are tracing against your waist, sending goosebumps down your skin. “Your tattoo healed so nicely”, he says, hooking his index finger and thumb to your chin so you’d meet his gaze. Your gaze travels down to his pretty lips and he takes it as a sign to cup your neck and pull you in for a starved kiss, sending your mind into a fucking frenzy, and fireworks to go off in your eyelids. He tastes even better than you thought. Your eyes flutter open as he pulls back, catching your breath.

“Won’t Mingi hear?” You ask. He shakes his head. “Not anytime soon, doll.” His little pet name making you flush even harder, and it all goes down to your pussy, which is getting wet enough already, no thanks to your little fantasies and the fucking kiss.

“Now, stop thinking about him when I’m here.”

His hands touch your waist again, as he lifts you onto the tattoo bed, the plastic crinkling beneath you. You watch him breathlessly as he tugs against your bottoms, and your clothing articles drop to your ankles. Yunho doesn’t let them touch the ground, instead, he folds it hastily onto the other side of the bed, before turning his attention back to you, or your wet and sopping pussy.

Yunho licks his lips, before stroking your thighs to coax you to spread your legs open, and you do, your eyes following the way his fingers are stroking your thigh, alongside the ticklish feeling it was sending straight to your cunt.

“Such a pretty pussy, doll”, he compliments, his fingers trailing down your slicked cunt, before stopping right at your hole. He hears your little whimpers and cries, and it goes right to his hardened cock that’s pushing against his pants. But he knows being patient reaps the best rewards. He can be patient for you. Yunho’s fingers slowly plunge into your cunt, and your back arches in pleasure, because oh my fucking god, his fingers are long enough to hit a spongy area and it was sending fucking stars beneath your eyelids. Shivers tickle your spine as Yunho’s lips land soft kisses against your skin on your neck. His finger fucking was sending you into the heavens.

A kiss on your cheeks makes your eyes flutter open, and you meet Yunho’s gaze.

“I’ve noticed”, he sighs, slowing down his finger fucking in you. “That you seem really entranced by my hands since our first session.” Then he plunges his fingers in again, another cry leaving your lips as your eyes roll back.

Fuck. He found out.

“You have such pretty hands”, you admit, hiding your face with your arms, wondering what was more embarrassing—the fact that he found out about your fixation with his hands, or that he’s fucking your cunt with said fingers.

“So I should make really good use of it, right?” Yunho chuckles, adoring the way you’re squirming under his touch. He pulls your hands off your face and holds them down, and oh god, he was truly trying to drive you insane. He picks up the pace and every time his fingers press against your g-spot, your moans only grew louder and more desperate, and Yunho is progressively losing his rationale. He wants to fuck you so bad right now, and the thought of him railing you on his workspace only heightened his arousal, because he has never done that before.

Your orgasm only builds up even more quickly when he thumbs your clit after releasing your hands. Your hands are clawing his arms.

“Yunho, please. Oh god. That feels so fucking good. Gonna cum.”, you cry, lifting your legs higher, and that only encourages Yunho to pick up the pace, and the words that leave his lips-“cum on my fingers baby. You know you want to”- and a whimper escapes his lips the moment he feels your walls clench against his fingers, as moans pours out of you when your orgasm floods your senses. Yunho lets you ride your orgasm out, slowly pushing his fingers in and out again, enjoying your cunt squeezing his fingers. He pulls out slowly and you barely catch your breath, as your gaze meet his. His fingers are full of your slick and cream, and plasters it on his lips, giving them a lick before sucking this pretty fingers, covered in your arousal, fucking clean. That does nothing but throw your head into a frenzy, and your cunt clenches at nothing, as you struggle to keep your composure.

But now Yunho is the one starting to lose it, as he haphazardly wipes his fingers on his slacks before hastily pulling his pants down, his cock springing out, glimmering with precum already, very evident thanks to the studio lights. God fuck, as if his hands weren’t pretty enough, his dick is too. Yunho bites his lip, staring at how fucked out you looked, especially since he hasn’t even fucked you good yet. He pushes your knees to bend even more, before lining his cockhead to your hole before sinking his cock right into you. You couldn’t even keep your eyes open at this point. Your cunt feels slightly sore, and your walls are hugging his cock so well that Yunho is fighting not to just fuck you senseless. Yunho groans at the sensation, but he leans in for another hungry kiss with you, before his hand snakes around your neck.

He pulls back. “I’m sorry. I really need to fuck you so bad right now. Fuck.” You can’t help but find that so endearing that he’s holding back. Your fingers tug your folds open more, letting him sink his cock further deeper into your heat, which makes him squeeze your throat. It feels so fucking amazing to have Yunho choke you out like this, and you make it even more evident by clenching around his cock.

He doesn’t hesitate this time, and starts fucking you so deep and good, that you fucking swear you see a bulge below your belly button every time his cock hits your cervix. The sensation of Yunho’s cock stuffing you full every time he thrusts into you paired with his hands around your neck—softly squeezing and letting go—is only pushing your second orgasm to hit you.

“I would have never guessed that you’d get off my hands this much”, Yunho hums, looking at the way your eyes are rolled back as his balls slap your ass every time he fucks into you, your hands grabbing onto his arm, clawing again from the bliss he’s fucking you into. “Do you like them that much?”

You fight every nerve to focus on answering him, eyebrows scrunched. “Y-yeah. Fuck, I fantasise you choking me out like this since that day. I dream about letting you do whatever you want to me with your han-“ getting cut off from a sob as his cock fills you up again—or did he just grow even bigger in you? Ah, fuck, it doesn’t matter.

“Naughty girl”, Yunho mutters with a smirk, his free hand slapping against your ass, the sound rippling through the room, making you arch your back even more.

“Yunho, p-please’, you stutter, the knot in your stomach so taut. “I think I’m gonna cum again”. Now you’re sobbing. This only encourages Yunho to tighten his grip around your neck as his strokes become harder, and you snap—broken sobs leaving your throat as your cunt fucking squeezes Yunho’s cock, the sensation of his hands around your neck only amplifies your orgasm as stars burst in your eyelids, and you cream so fucking much, that it gets onto the cling wrapped bed below you. Yunho immediately loses it, his thrusts becoming straight up ruts. He releases his grip from your neck, and the oxygen returns immediately, leaving your heaving. Yunho is leaning into your ear, as his both hands are now on your waist as he fucks desperately into your overstimulated cunt.

“You’re so fucking adorable, y/n. I’m cumming too”, he grunts, as he ruts a final time before a soft moan hits your ears, then a flood of his warm cum right into your spent pussy, and oh god, did that feel amazing. Yunho stays by your side for a moment, before straightening his back, and pulling out, not missing a beat at the way his cum just trickles down your inner thigh, out of your hole.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. This is your work space and all”, you panic, taking a handful of tissues that Yunho had offered to clean yourself up. Evidently, that doesn’t get to him because Yunho immediately rushes over the moment he notices the red marks around your neck.

“Shit, did I choke you too hard?” He asks rather frantically, lifting your chin up, rubbing against your neck gently. You shake your head, suddenly wanting to just kiss him again, but you hold yourself back. “Also, don’t worry about this. My next appointment isn’t until 4pm. I have time to clean up. You alright though?”

Fuck, why did he have to be hot and gentle? It was genuinely driving you nuts. “Is it okay if I use the toilet?” You ask, fitting your clothes on. Yunho immediately nods, rushing to the door to leave it open for you, as you gingerly head to the washroom.

You sigh as you leave the washroom, wondering if it was about to simply be a one time thing, because you were falling for your tattoo artist, hard and fast. Your gaze meets Yunho’s the moment you shut the door behind you, and Yunho has cleaning supplies in his hands. Suddenly your face flushes again, thinking at the mess the both you made.

Yunho’s smile doesn’t falter though, and you see a tint of red colouring the tips of his ears, which you could have definitely missed if you hadn’t noticed closely. There’s a strange air of silence between the both of you, that is, until Yunho speaks.

“My 4pm client is my last one for the day. I’ll text you when I’m done, if you’re down for dinner?” He asks, rubbing the nape of his neck shyly. Oh my fucking god. You laugh softly, because, holy shit, you never expected this outcome, and then you nod. “I’ll be waiting, Yunho”, you reply.

Yunho steps forward to you and strokes your head. “I’ll see you to the door then. And then I’ll see you tonight.”

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez smut #smut #ateez fic #kpop smut #Yunho ateez #y/n x yunho #yunho smut #yunho x reader

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overnowsfcb · 11 months ago

Text

worth it for once; pedri

summary: sometimes the show must not go on. what happens when the curtains fall?

warnings: angst, smut (dom!pedri, pool sex, hickey, blow job (v), masturbation and self-masturbation (p), pet names) mature language, abuse of alcohol, toxic relationship dynamics, emotional distress. if any of these topics makes you uncomfortable, i advise against reading this story.

word count: 5.9k

note: hi! first of all i wanted to thank everyone who interacted with 'halfway out the door', you don't even know how much it means to me that people can read my stories. i knew i said i would do some fluff, but i feel like im not good at it. i cant seem to let the reader be happy can i? (this fic is so long i feel like i got a bit carried away)

p.s.: this is my first time ever writing smut, im sorry if its too bad. also! 'halfway out the door' has ninety percent of possibility to have a second part.

p.s. 2: the party ended an hour ago and he still there. another thing that i wanted to say is that FOR ME 'slut!' is not a love song so that is my reason for this, i take my interpretation of the song and write it down — venus 🫂💐🫧

The sun's rays slipped through the white curtain covering the partially open window, letting in the morning breeze. You nestled in the sheets, still drowsy, but as you did, you snapped wide awake, realizing once again that Pedri wasn't by your side.

You turned over, hoping it was a dream, but the only remnants of him in the room were his lingering scent and memories of the night before, replaying in your mind.

The way he touched you, tracing each of the invisible scars left by your previous lovers who sought only their own pleasure, using you to their liking without paying attention to your desires.

He was different. His kisses felt like a religious experience, filling you with an ever-growing sense of fulfillment. Nothing wrapped around you more securely than the feeling of having him inside of you, merging under the lustful gaze of the moon that welcomed you on a tailor-made altar, adorned with soft sheets and sensations that turned into a celestial orchestra.

And although the next day, perhaps his flaws became evident, your infatuation took you beyond, closing the curtain of the stage within your mind; you didn't have to be displeased or critical when admiring a work of art, right?

When the strength left from the previous night was regained under pressure, and your mind returned to the frosty present, you sat up in bed, feeling your head heavy, needing to blink several times to clear the blurriness that clouded your eyes due to sleep.

Your feet rested on the wooden floor. You didn’t want to face another day with the pain of the mandatory conviction your heart held towards your mind, aiming it with a gun if it tried to move from there.

You sighed with closed eyes and gathered your clothes scattered around the room. When you finished dressing, you approached the window and inhaled a breath of air to refresh your thoughts.

You left your room; the squeak of the door echoed through the house, signaling to Elena that you had already woken up. You couldn't lie; you were afraid to face her.

She, your best friend since you desperately looked for someone to share an apartment with after the owners of your previous apartment unjustly left you out in the cold.

She, who warmly welcomed you full of empathy and commiseration, helped you deal with the storm by receiving you in a studio apartment with an air mattress. She became the person you adored most in the whole world and never lacked frankness in her words.

Both of you moved forward together; now, you succeeded in modeling, and you could search for something much more comfortable living now in a pent-house, but always side by side.

You arrived at the spacious kitchen connected to the dining room and were met with an exquisite aroma, akin to the dishes she professionally prepared. You tied your hair in a ponytail and moved the chair to sit facing the counter.

Crossed fingers and your chin resting on your hands, you noticed she expected your presence when she twisted her torso, leaving a plate with toast and homemade raspberry jam on the marble counter in front of you.

You waited a moment to grab one of the perfectly made toasts and spread the jam in the toast; you felt the tension in the air. You knew of her disapproving stance regarding your situation with Pedri, and you knew she was preparing the usual sermon.

"Want to say something about it?" It was as if she had read your mind; turning her back, you sat up straighter on the stool, your distressed chest making your heart pump more blood than usual.

"No," you replied dryly, as you took a bite of toast.

"Alright, then it'll be up to me." You felt fear travel up your spine to the buzzing in your head and a high-pitched tone ringing in your ears.

You tried to breathe normally, but it was impossible. Her actions guided your eyes; she put the angel food cake in the oven and turned around, sitting on the stool in front of you, looking at you incredulously.

"He left at seven in the morning. When was the last time he stayed the following morning with you? I know you don't want to hear this, and I understand that you're into him. But don't let that blind you from what's really happening here. You're too intelligent for this, too good for someone who treats you like an option." Her words were always harsh, and she never hesitated to tell you the bleak truth without flinching. But it wasn't what you needed now, and her words were insignificant in front of the formidable figure that Pedri occupied in your mind.

There were very few people who dared to challenge your perspective, and Elena was brave enough to do it, even though her attempts always ended in defeats.

And defeats consisted in your denial, where you decided to take off your glasses after seeing what was there. You knew it existed and acknowledged it deep down, but hearing someone throw out statements so lightly without knowing him in the homely intimacy where he could unfold without prejudices, was something only you could discover.

The 'Open Sesame' didn't work with all tones, and not everyone acquired the privilege of opening such a treasure. So, you assumed it was envy.

"Maybe it’s a mess, maybe it’s complicated, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth a damn!" Your voice began to rise in volume the more anger you vented at her, who was innocent of it all. You noticed her furrowed brow, her attempts to help, every time she threw you a lifeline, you chose to ignore it, believing you could swim the remaining yards to shore alone.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, trying to find a balance, but your aggressiveness seemed to have reached its peak.

"I’ll sort it out myself, alright?" You exhaled, continuing your defense. "So just back off, Ele. I’m sick of needing your approval for everything. I’ll make my choices, even if they’re not in your rulebook." You spoke with a passive-aggressive tone. "You think you know him? You have no clue, none whatsoever." You got up from your seat, giving the countertop a light tap, and shook your head indignantly.

"I just want what's best for you, y/n," She whispered, looking you in the eyes with honesty. You headed towards the door disappearing from her sight.

You knew that she wanted to protect you like she did from the very first moment.

Despite being your age, she showed herself to be more mature than you. You were like her baby chick, and she had the instinct to keep you under her wings, but she had to admit that you had to learn defense by yourself.

And sometimes you need to fail to build your path.

There was no better remedy in your routine than drowning yourself in work to stop thinking about all the dilemmas surrounding your life. At least for a few hours.

Growing within the fashion industry was difficult without contacts; if you wanted to achieve something, you had to consider the hurdles you might carry in your backpack. But your resilience and pride prevented anyone else, terrified of having a future of subordination, from winning.

Today's meetings were about agreements for your brand, a dream that grew with you from your mom reading you bedtime stories to the present day.

You had put so much effort and creativity into your project that, regardless of what happened externally, your priority would always be there. No affair or argument could steer you away from that.

All your distractions due to logical thoughts vanished upon arriving at your apartment. You turned on the lights; Elena had left you a message informing you that she would stay at her boyfriend's house for the night.

Your home felt empty without her blasting music through the speakers and constant movements around the house. You cracked your neck, leaving your faux leather coat on the entryway rack. You lazily tossed your bag onto the couch, sitting beside it. You unbuckled your heels, freeing your feet.

A contained sigh escaped your nostrils, easing your chest a bit. You heard thousands of notifications coming from your bag. Worried, you unzipped it and searched for the phone, unsure of what was happening.

You glanced at the news headlines and the numerous social media posts where you were being tagged. You thought you had successfully escaped last time. The carefully revised alibi by both managers to divert media attention from your relationship had been futile.

But it seemed not entirely effective; without any evidence or concrete proof, just a blurry and deficient photo was enough for them to create a compelling scene for the public.

You clicked on a specific article; its name caught your attention, "The New Target of Love: The Boy in Her Chaos - Will He Survive?" You knew it wasn't the smartest decision you could make; the echoes of the voices of the people closest to you resonated in your ears. But you were alone and had nothing better to do at that moment.

The devil on your right shoulder encouraged and forced you to keep reading; with each sentence and word, your tear ducts were ready to expel the salty drops from your eyes.

You couldn't understand why journalists consistently targeted your romantic relationships instead of focusing on your professional endeavors, where you worked, and strived every day to show the world that you were more than just a pretty face. But in a sexist world, you had to accept without a murmur the things they wrote without any pity, driven by money and interactions.

Had you signed up for this life, or was it something gradually inserted into your brain about what it had to be?

You found yourself seated at your computer with a bottle of wine by your side, seemingly engrossed in reading each of the articles criticizing you and perpetuating a negative reputation of yourself.

You had poured a small amount of the burgundy liquid into your glass. Some sort of masochism consumed you, and without noticing, you began to pour more and more wine into the glass, your heart filling with misery, pausing at every clever word that defined your identity on the internet. Because all of the words seemed monotone.

Until the glass was no longer enough to swallow the bitter pill, you stared at the bottle, contemplating your next move. You shrugged and reached for the bottle with difficulty, your vision truly distorted, no longer having a sense of space.

You leaned back in the couch and took a long swig that burned your throat, feeling your heart rate rise.

You decided you had gone too far, abruptly leaving the computer on the table in front of you. When you tried to get up, you fell backward by inertia, unbalanced. That's when you realized you weren't even paying attention to the news but mindlessly scrolling your mouse.

The tears you had been holding back for over an hour and a half streamed down your cheeks immediately. Now, you couldn't turn back and felt trapped within your own uncontrollable body.

Gut-wrenching sobs made your body tremble, and at that moment, all you could think of was his touch, how every time you cried, he carefully wiped your cheeks and assured you that this too shall pass.

With tears and alcohol blurring your vision, it wasn't hard to find his number as you had it pinned in your messaging app. You opened his chat and immediately tapped the call icon.

You placed your phone to your ear, hearing the beeps from the other end, while your body, consumed by sorrow, couldn't help but continue shedding tears.

You perceived a noticeable change from silence to a clear indication that the call had been answered. You tried to stifle your crying by biting your lip, but it seemed this battle wouldn't let you emerge victorious.

"Love, are you crying?" You wanted to respond, but his voice only intensified your desire to cry; you longed to feel his warmth. You still didn't understand why you decided to go this far. "y/n, I'm worried. Did something happen? Did someone hurt you?" You tried to take a deep breath to provide an answer.

You wiped your tears with the back of your hand and then placed it on your chest, trying to assist in the calming process. "It's so exhausting." These were the words that came out of your mouth as you exhaled.

He still didn't understand exactly what you were talking about, but you kept talking. "I think I can't be with you anymore." Your voice came out strained; you truly didn't want to say those words. You clung to the arm of the chair with one hand, squeezing it, waiting to hear the response on the other side.

"What?" He couldn't comprehend how he had woken up at two in the morning, and you were talking about cutting ties. "Love, listen to me. Why don't you go to sleep, and tomorrow, we spend the day at the country house?" On the other end of the line, he easily realized the moment he picked up that you were drunk.

"Okay." You affirmed with a nod, resting your head on the armrest, and lifting your feet to stretch out on the sofa. "I love you a lot." Your face contracted again, a sign that tears would return.

"You too." He replied, and you were the one who ended the call, slightly calmer about the reflections the articles had left and the incoherent thoughts that had arisen from them.

You left the phone by your side and curled up, hugging yourself, seeking warmth without the help of a blanket. You closed your eyes, praying that the world would change radically tomorrow, although you knew it was an unlikely hope. You never wished more than for whoever was in the sky to give you a new chance to love in the right way.

You needed to believe in someone; you needed assistance from the universe to not lose the hope that once brought you immense joy. But perhaps genuine love was like Santa Claus, and sooner or later, it would crumble like any other ingenious belief.

And like a shrewd child who receives his Christmas gifts with the same enthusiasm even after learning the hidden truth, you dipped your feet into the transparent chlorinated water.

He watched each of your movements attentively, leaning on one of the pool edges. You plunged, soaking your entire body, and swam towards his direction, resurfacing enveloped in laughter with him.

He embraced you, sharing some of his warmth to your cold body due to the sudden change in the water, and you placed your hands around his waist, looking up at him from his chest.

"I love you so much." You bit your lip, seeking an outlet for your love. He rested his hands on your cheeks and began planting short kisses that spread across your entire face.

"I love you more." He reciprocated, giving two gentle taps on your legs. You jumped, and he took you into his arms grabbing your ass.

Quickly, he changed his position, leaving your back resting on the cold pool wall. The chills went up through your spinal cord, fusing the temperature of the edge and its expression, which never went out of style to make you think that everything you needed was there, with him.

You ran his sculpted shoulders with your palms open, feeling his muscles and intertwined your fingers behind his neck, brushing his hair.

Your lips brushed, and you could feel the electricity that could arise from a simple and minimal contact.

He brought his face to you, holding you tight against the concrete.

It was undeniable the indissoluble bond tied by the threads that led you each time to the same situation, and the core of your life was nourished by its bond.

As your lips collided with fervor, eager to quell the fervent passion, you pulled him closer with your legs still entwined around his waist. Feeling his hardness against your core ignited arousal as he pressed himself firmly, and both of you gasped in the midst of the kiss at the electrifying contact.

Your lips didn't want to part, too hungry for each other's sweet taste. You caught his lower lip between your teeth, pulling it gently to invite your tongue into his mouth. It had become sloppy as you lightly tugged his hair, eliciting a groan.

His hand stealthily ascended, never parting from your lips, traveling from your ass to the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

His tender lips traced a pattern from your cheeks to your neck. You tilted your head back, offering more of your skin for his exploration.

Expertly, his fingers unraveled the straps of your bikini with a single pull, still nestled in your neck. As the air grazed your tightened nipples, your breath hitched when he took one between his fingers, fidgeting and further intensifying the sensation.

Your sensitive boobs elicited desperate whimpers as he continued grinding against you, creating a symphony of pleasure. The air thickened, and your bodies radiated heat.

His lips passionately suctioned a spot, causing your eyes to roll. You were well aware that he would leave a hickey there.

Moving from your neck, his lips trailed down to your collarbone. Frustration built as he skillfully teased the sides of your breasts, deliberately avoiding the attention where you craved it most.

"Pedri, please..." You gently tugged his strands, prompting him to lift his head. Counterfeit innocence gleamed in his pupils.

"What do you need, amor? Tell me, is there something I can do for you?" His gentle caress graced your cheek, and you melted into his simmering touch.

"Please..." He ceased grinding, his hand swiftly traversing to your neck, as your hand descended, grazing his abs.

"If only you could see this beautiful hickey right now," He whispered, tracing the mark and toying with you, his actions inviting your response as he often did.

It was exasperating; no matter how frequently you found yourself in such moments with him, articulating your desires remained a challenge.

"Just do something," you uttered, a touch of despondency in your voice, pouting with pleading eyes. Yet, he remained resolute.

"I just don't know what you want." He shook his head, gently placing a strand of hair behind your ear, mimicking your pout with a teasing tone.

"Alright... just please, babe, suck my tits," you replied with a hint of frustration. His corners lifted, forming a smile, having successfully achieved his goal.

"There she is, that's my good girl, aren't you?" You couldn't help but nod several times steadfastily, just wanting him to stop playing.

His face vanished from your sight as he covered one of your breasts with his mouth. A loud moan escaped your throat, a sound of satisfaction for him as he moved his tongue, savoring your skin. "Was it that difficult?" He gazed at you once more, and you sighed in irritation, prompting him to raise his eyebrows, questioning your actions.

"No." Your fingers traced his chest as he continued sucking with determination.

Moving lower, you reached the edge of the swim trunks' fabric. However, as you did, he pulled away with a frown. "Who said you could touch?" You mirrored his expression confused.

"Last night, you scared me a lot. Do you think it was funny for me? No, so you can't decide who's having fun, okay?" Your chest felt heavy, yet you found a strange allure in his dominant low voice, even though you wanted to object.

"I thought..." He wrapped his hand around your neck, pulling you back and shutting your mouth with his thumb. He watched as you sucked it, humming and biting his plump lips.

"You didn't think shit. Now, jump." He firmly gripped your hips, lifting you effortlessly to the pool's edge. Seated, you patiently awaited his guidance, uncertainty accelerating your heartbeat.

Intense eye contact heightened the tension. His fingers delicately traced over your thighs, starting from the outer part, then gently grazing your clothed intimacy. He devoured you with his gaze.

"Lean back for me, baby." You did as he pleased leaning in your elbows.

He tapped on your thighs, a signal to lift your hips, and he removed the sole fabric covering your body and throwing it to your side. He took your legs and placing them over his shoulders. Spreading you open. A groan escaped him at the sight, reveling in your arousal.

"So wet, just for me," he murmured, running his fingers through your folds, collecting your juices and parting your lips to spread the liquids.

You pressed closer, yearning for more. "Just for you." Suddenly, a firm spank on your sensitive area made you shudder, and you gasped. "Behave," he commanded, throwing you a dominant look.

Circling your clit, he gradually increased the pace. Tilted back, moans escaped uncontrollably. Another spank followed, and you met his gaze. "Keep your eyes on me, princess. Watch as I pleasure you like no one else could."

His words wielded a powerful influence in every scenario. Returning to your pussy, he made his way to slip two fingers inside you easily as you were soaked by now. The reflex to close your eyes surfaced, but his commanding words echoed in your mind.

He initiated a rhythmic motion, penetrating and withdrawing, targeting your most sensitive depths, obscene wet sounds, thumb still teasing your bud. Overwhelmed by the intensity, you sought stability, bringing your index finger to your mouth, biting down to anchor yourself. "You can grab my hair, baby," he suggested, prompting a satisfying sigh as you obediently followed his directive.

As the synchronization of your movements intensified, he decided to elevate the pleasure further. His mouth joined the sensual dance, lasciviously spitting your core, eliciting a contented hum from you.

As his mouth drew near your clit, enveloping it ably, a scream escaped your lips, worthy of a scene of a pornographic film. His name slipped through your mouth, an inadvertent encouragement that fueled his tenacity to excel, delve deeper, move faster, and render you numb in ecstasy.

In the intimacy, he displayed a reflection of his approach on the field, always seeking ways to enhance and achieve peak performance, a relentless pursuit of reaching his full potential at what he knew he was one of the bests, even when he didn't want to admit it.

There was no sweeter melody than your filthy moans. His crotch throbbed aching, aware that just a few pumps would make him reach his climax. But he needed to focus on you first, even though he rolled his hips against the concrete, trying to calm down his needs.

He groaned, shutting his eyes and digging his tongue into your hole. Your legs entwined around his neck, the tight knot of pleasure building as you moved your hips in tandem with the rhythm of his tongue.

"Pedri, I'm..." You shouted, the words hanging in the air unfinished, as he entered both, fingers with tongue, increasing the pace with each successive motion.

He opened his eyes again, locking onto yours, brimming with passion beneath the sun. His nose brushing against your clit, combined with his bambi-like eyes in contrast to the authority he held over you, escalate the moment as you tightly grasped his hair, evoking the release of your juices.

He couldn't help but stop pressing against the wall and squeeze his shaft inescapably, captivated by the way you adhered to what he said, even if it meant he had to assert control with a firm hand, correcting your inclination to lean back a few times.

He loved how obedient you were and how your body reacted.

Your high-pitched sounds spurred him to slip his hand inside his swim trunks, almost moaning at the sensations created by his own touch and the enticing arch of your back. He found himself immersed in the sweet taste and intoxicating fragrance that surrounded him.

He went up and down with his hand on his dick fervently, trembling in sync with you. "Are you going to come, my love? Do it for me," his deep voice making you feel so close. You played with one of your hardened nipples between your fingers. You affirmed with the other hand on his hair, and he hummed against you in response. "Oh, my god." you mumbled.

His vibrations heightened your euphoria, and the combination of his tongue and fingers left you feeling overstimulated. As you screamed arching your back, you became undone, laying flat, straightening your arms at your side and shuddering as you felt him persisting in his ministrations.

Too blind to reach his own pleasure to think about anything else, he continued pounding his dick, gripping his tip as he parted his lips, releasing ecstatic sounds and feeling the reverberations across his body. Leaning against your abdomen, he sensed his shots filling his shorts as he lowered his pace.

You tenderly ran your fingers through his sweaty hair, both basking in the tranquility of the moment as his chest rose and fell. Minds empty.

"Come here, baby," you whispered. He propelled himself up from the water and leaned flat at your side.

As you lay down on the cold poolside with him, he placed his hand on your waist, burying his head in your neck. He rubbed his nose, sensing how your perfume delicately mixed with expelled pheromones, obtaining a small giggle from you.

You swung your leg over his waist, leaning your chest towards him, and stroked his wet hair.

"Thank you," you smiled with closed eyes, sighing. "It's just what I needed."

"I like hearing that," he said, pulling away from your neck to look into your eyes. You looked like a fallen angel with your smudged mascara, swollen lips, tired eyes, and blush spreading across your cheeks.

His gaze instinctively dropped to your neck, observing the love mark on your skin. Though in his mind, he still questioned if this was truly love.

Without delving too much into his thoughts, he gently pecked your lips.

"Pedri..." you sighed, coming down from the adrenaline rush. Sitting up, you supported yourself with your hands and looked at him, recalling internet articles and Elena's words.

"Already want to talk about that?" he asked, huddled up, absorbing the remaining sunlight.

"I'm going to shower," you said, rising from the ground, creating a space for anticipation, allowing him to process and reflect. You knew the house perfectly, having visited many times with the understanding that no one could see you and spend the entire day together.

But meaningful memories were scarce, and you clung to them, hoping that someday it could be more than the fear of being seen together, unable to go to a restaurant or travel together.

You entered the shower, letting the cold water make you reconsider your beliefs. You trusted that, for the first time, you had found something real, a gentleman who stood out in the world of ordinary men, wanting to keep you safe.

You also trusted that you would walk on nails and endure all the thorns of a rose just to be with him. But genuinely, love should be about facing painful situations to prove love for a person, or love should feel welcoming, a place where you would stay for eternity if it had to be so?

You analyzed it, the rain falling on you as you cleaned your body. You wouldn't stay with Pedri; he never felt like a place where you could unload all your baggage without fear.

After all, coming from past relationships, he was your sanctuary at first, stemming from more deficient and unstable experiences. You couldn't stop the solitary tear that escaped your eye.

Since the night you met, you should have realized that nothing good could come from something that was supposed to be just for a night. But you didn't want to listen.

You left the shower, unable to continue ruminating in your head without fainting in the attempt. The drops that weren't allowed to fall from your tear ducts were released by your hair.

You grabbed your clothes, still absorbed in your thoughts. When you finished dressing, you placed your hand on the doorknob. Behind it lay the definition of the future of this strange relationship, and the confrontation was something that terrified you.

You walked into the living room to find him seated, wrestling with his thoughts, head bowed, facing away. Approaching him, you crossed your arms in front of his neck and hugged him, taking in his freshly scented and the slight dampness of his hair. He looked at you wearily, unsure of what would happen, and you gave him a kiss on the cheek before sitting next to him on the gray sofa.

You took his hand with love; you couldn't deny that, despite everything, he had been the source of most of your joys in the last four months. You took a deep breath before letting it out and started speaking.

"Are you mine?" His hand tensed, and his brow furrowed. He didn't understand where such a sudden question came from.

"What?" He responded confused, almost pulling away from you.

"Are you mine or not?" You still hoped for a more certain answer.

"I don't understand where your question is coming from." His expression showed he had never really thought about something like that. At least, was there some kind of feeling for you in his heart? You wondered which person you had been with all this time.

"Just answer it." You let go of his hand; your voice carried a tone of desperation and anguish. You knew you wouldn't get anywhere, but you still needed to cling to the few hopes that remained.

"I don't understand what you mean by 'yours'; we never talked about..." He tried to make another excuse in front of your eyes. It felt as if he were treating you like a little girl, who would eventually leave the question unanswered once she got tired.

"I need to know where we stand! Do you want to be with me or not?" You no longer knew why you kept trying about something that wouldn't change. You stood up from the sofa, and he avoided looking at you.

"Why do you have to make it so complicated? We're just having fun." He shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head. That response could have been worse than a straightforward no.

"Having fun? Do you think I'm with you to have fun with how the media calls me a slut, Pedro?" You shook your head in disbelief, letting out a bitter, pained laugh. "Four months enduring your ambiguities while defending you in front of my friends, saying you needed time." Your voice faltered, recalling all the arguments you had faced, thinking that at some point, everything would change.

"I didn't think you felt that way." He detached himself from his actions, as if it were so simple. Still avoiding eye contact.

"You said you loved me! Did you ever feel genuine love for me?" Your heart tightened; all this couldn't be a big lie where you were the only one playing a game that was already resolved.

"I don't know." He whispered, unsure of how you would react to such an unsure yet determinant answer. Your eyes blurred with contained tears; you couldn't cry like this in front of him.

"You knew everything you were doing; you knew that I was yours, and you didn't care." You screamed, desperate for him to show some emotion, to show that something of everything you had experienced had a hint of reality.

"It wasn't like that." He replied in the same flat tone, this time looking at you and realizing the tears that were falling, while you were motionless, feeling the room spin around you, and your ears ringing again.

"It was exactly like that." You had been sincere from your first conversation, under that neon light on a private yacht. A party where you didn't want to be, he approached you for that simple reason; you were the only girl who hadn't looked at him.

And you had found someone whom you thought had the will and power to heal all your wounds. But you ended up dancing with shadows in glass, with something ephemeral that you thought could be eternal. While you ended up being one of the many prey in his history.

"I gave you everything, I told you about my past and how I needed someone to trust, and you ended up being like everyone else." You released a silent sob and headed towards the room, where you had left your backpack. You were supposed to spend a weekend together, and now everything was withered. Your feigned acts of believing that magic still existed were in vain.

"Where are you going?" You gasped, bumping into him in the door frame; he placed his hands on your shoulders, concerned.

"I called Elena; she'll come to pick me up." You hadn't even talked to your best friend when you sneaked away with Pedri at noon; she would do everything to stop you from leaving, and you preferred not to tell her. But she, without hesitation, as soon as you asked, was already on her way.

"We can try to fix it." You knew he was only offering the response your ears craved. But you weren't going to fall for his spells. This time, his method of still having your strings to manipulate you like a puppet wouldn't work.

"I won't be with someone who never cared about me." You walked to the door, lowering the latch, and turned around once more; he looked at you from a considerable distance. He wasn't going to try to stop you, and that was what hurt the most. "Good luck, Pedro."

You left the house, and the evening air enveloped you. You walked along the walkway made of rocks, each step feeling heavier than the last. Another relationship failing, another person disappointing and discarding you like a crumpled note, forgotten in the margins of a story that never reached its intended conclusion.

Your tears flowed freely down your cheeks now that you weren't facing him. You stood on the street, waiting for Elena to arrive. She had every right to tell you 'I told you so,' and she would be justified.

You saw her black car approaching from the end of the street, parking right in front of you. You hesitated for a moment to get in, embarrassed to ignore someone who only sought your happiness.

She rolled down the window, and your eyes locked inviting you in. Opening the door, she extended her arms, offering solace. Tears streamed down your face as you looked for refuge on her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Ele." You lifted your head, and she gently wiped away your tears. Shaking her head, she dismissed your apologies.

"I'll always be here by your side. You're the one who needs to learn, but I'll never leave you adrift, okay?" You pouted, and your tears continued to flow.

You both settled back into your seats, stealing glances at the house. A part of you lingered there, and a lump formed in your throat. You sensed that distancing yourself was the only thing that could save you from descending into delirium. Now, you must gather the fragments of your heart once more and rebuild it on your own.

Your eyes went directly to the hickey he had left. You wanted to rip that skin off, not wanting to have him in your memories in any way.

Leaning your head against the window, you wondered what could have been if fame hadn't been the haunting specter in your life. You guessed that you will never actually know.

#pedri x reader #pedri angst #pedri smut #pedri x you #pedri x y/n #football x reader #football imagine #football angst #football smut #pedri imagine

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aklaustaleteller · 2 months ago

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I do not give anyone the permission to translate or repost my work. Please do not plagiarize it! Apart from that, thank you, thank you, thank you so much for fishing out your precious time to read my fics -- it means a lot; I appreciate your support so much! I genuinely hope you enjoy your time here!

All the love always,

Harry Styles ff blog: @0oolookitsme Fic Rec blog (for KM): @niklausmklsn creds to @saradika for the amazing graphics! <3

Last Updated: August 29, 2024

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84 notes · View notes

skellymom · 11 months ago

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"Cup Of Caf"

The Bad Batch CROSSHAIR One Shot

Crosshair x NON GENDERED Reader (PLEASE put YOURSELF into this story! <3)

Background: Crosshair makes it to Pabu with all of his brothers and sister. Will he open himself up to another? What's his future there?

Word Count: 2.1K

Warning: Really none. This is sweetness, some angsty fluff, and character growth. Purposely wrote this piece for ANY reader! You can take this tale as friendship or the start of a blossoming love relationship. And, I purposely wrote NO GENDER/NO SPECIFIC SEXUALITY/POSSIBLY EVEN AGENDER into this story. It's about healing, sharing, growing, and decisions at one of many crossroads in life. Sometimes it's painful, but growth can be.

This One Shot is dedicated to Crosshair Fans, those of you struggling with hard decisions in life, loneliness, and to the amazing @lightspringrain whose art was one of my inspirations for this story.

(Her Etsy shop: https://www.etsy.com/shop/LightSpringRain Just placed my order for the holidays!

(Credit: Dividers by the talented @saradika)

The leaves of the Cascade Tree rippled lazily in the ocean breeze. Its boughs lifted just enough to reveal a man with a scarred head sitting under its canopy at the picnic table.

You were surprised to see someone sitting there at... “your” table. Not really yours, but no one else ever came down this far from the cliffs to watch the surf foam and roil against the shores of Pabu. Every morning walking down to enjoy your cup of caf before starting the day. Today, you were testing out a new mug, fresh off the pottery wheel: Jet black clay with metallic silver phases of the moon depicted in striking detail across its surface. Debated selling this piece, hardly ever keeping anything for yourself.

The man’s back was facing you at quiet approach. He side-eyed you suspiciously, scowling. Immediately recognized him as the newcomer to the island that arrived with his brothers and one sister. Phee Genoa gushed about the one named, “Tech”. She called him “Brown Eyes”. This was the “Grumpy Brother” and was already gaining a reputation as anti-social.

“Uh...hi.”

Silence and unchanging side-eye. He didn’t move from the spot and clearly wanted to be left alone.

“Ok, leaving.”

No reply. He turned back around to stare at the crashing surf.

The next morning you arrived with your fully vetted new mug of caf to find...The Grumpy Man back in “your” spot.

Kriff...what to do? This was awkward. While feeling rather put out and wanting to sit alone, you kind of felt for the guy. The gossip around town was he had been through a lot before arriving in Pabu.

Looking down at the untouched cup of caf: How many people, yourself included, came to this planet looking for solace and safety? How many of the residents of Pabu arrived with baggage before they healed and found community here? How long did it take to be comfortable with others again?

Your heart went out to the man all by himself sitting there. It was an amazing view and perfect place to be alone.

He turned, almost like he had heard your brain humming. Again, scowling over his shoulder. You stepped closer, but he didn’t budge and kept the suspicious side-eye. You approached the table and set the steaming mug next to him.

He seemed briefly surprised, with his features softening slightly.

“Good morning, have a fresh cup on me.”

You awkwardly walked away, leaving him alone with the caf. Heart hammering in your chest.

After closing the pottery studio, you decided to stop by “your” spot on the way home. The Grumpy Man was gone, but the mug was in the same position you left it. You assumed he thought it a weird gesture and refused to touch the mug. But you realized the coffee was gone and there was something in the bottom of the mug. Turning it upside down, a seashell fell out. A very pretty one too. It brought a smile to your face.

Next morning, you looked forward to engaging with Grumpy Man again. The black and silver mug was washed and filled with hot caf for him. Stopping at the local bakery you purchased a large cinnamon pastry on the way.

Grumpy was there. He didn’t turn when approached. You set the mug with the pastry perched on top of it next to him.

“Enjoy.” Walking away.

“Did you like it?” His voice was low, raspy, snakelike.

“What?” Stopping in your tracks and turning slightly to answer. “Oh...yes. Thank you.”

“Hmmm...”

That was all. He said no more and kept his eyes on the crashing surf.

You left and walked onward to the studio.

After close, you walked back to retrieve the mug. It was empty of coffee and now and contained freshly picked flowers.

This carried on for several weeks. Every morning you brought him fresh caf and something to eat. After all, he was skin and bones. Every day something different: a fat muffin, breakfast sandwich, fruit, grain-meal with honey, meats, cheeses, brunch cookies. It was a culinary journey of Pabu, as you picked up things from local shops, or even threw together items from memory of family recipes.

It was almost an obsession to keep this man guessing the food he would be eating. Local shopkeepers noticed you out and about more, enquiring about your sudden social spree. Tongues were starting to wag on the island. You didn’t pay attention to gossip and could care less.

Grumpy seemed to have a decent appetite. You were quite sure he was indeed consuming the food. Of course, he could have thrown it down the ravine to the fish and sea birds, and you would be none the wiser. It was obviously evident his man was thriving as he filled out, less bony, skin no longer a sickly pallor, and his hair was growing back. Hair as silver as the moon.

Every evening he would leave something in the mug as a gift. An unspoken thanks for your kindness:

The split egg of a sea bird, a marine fossil stone, polished sea glass, a cascade tree seed, feathers, bleached bones, a preserved Pabu Butterfly with striking iridescent wings. He even left odd items that suggested a sense of humor. The persnickety land crab attempting to fight you for the mug as its new home. The small octopus bobbing in the salt water filled cup...who inked you in the face.

Every day was a welcome surprise.

You sat the mug and Meiloorun next to Grumpy. There were two covered plates on the table.

He turned around to look you square in the eye. “Sit with me.” It wasn’t a question, but not an order either. “Please.”

This was surprising and you settled in next to Grumpy on the bench.

He slid over a plate and uncovered it: Two stacked grain cakes with a whipped dairy smile and two berry eyes. They were doused in rainbow candy sprinkles, sitting in a huge amount of sugary syrup.

“Wow...uh. I didn’t take you for a happy face kinda guy.” Suddenly regretting the remark and holding your breath.

He rolled his eyes and exhaled. “My sister made them. SOMEONE in town tipped her off that I’m not alone during my ‘Alone Time’.”

You burst out laughing. How could you not?

“Gets better.” He uncovered the second plate: Two cooked sea bird eggs sunny side up with strips of cooked meat centered below them. The “food face” was doused in ketchup to resemble a bullet hole to the head hemorrhaging blood. “I’m more on board with this design.”

You howled with laughter. Grumpy cracked a small smile.

“YOUR sister did THIS??? THAT innocent child?”

“Mhm...” He snickered. “Never. She breathes and farts rainbows. This is my brother's masterpiece.”

The rainbow remark had you roaring again. Wiping away tears. His delivery was so unexpected.

He handed you a fork. Now that ALL his face was visible, you noticed the tattoo.

He produced his own fork. “Let's stab out the eyes and feast upon their faces.”

“Wait!” You lifted the mug of caf. “First, we must drink the blood of our enemies and share the names of the victors.” You were feeling giddy now...never considered maybe taking this Imagined Breakfast Massacre too seriously.

It didn’t seem to matter to Grumpy. In fact, he was smiling.

“Y/N” You took a healthy sip of the caf and passed the mug to him.

“Crosshair” He gulped the caf, giving you a mischievous look.

From that morning on you brought the cup of caf to share and HE brought the food. His sister and brother would cook or bake for Crosshair and “his friend”. According to him, they were overjoyed that he had not been spending his quiet days alone. Then started incorporating his own ideas into the recipes. Crosshair would regale you with “Tales of the Kitchen” interactions with him and his siblings as they cooked. He shared secret ingredients, always asked your opinion on the recipes, and how they could be improved.

However, after the food was eaten and the chatter died he would stare wistfully at the ocean. Deep in thought, mulling over something. You would ask and he would deflect with another topic. Not wanting to push things, you let it go.

This sharing of food and caf carried on for several months. Sometimes you were able to get bits of information out of him: He was a military man before coming to Pabu and was in a special highly trained squad. You asked about his mother and father. He shrugged and said his parentage didn’t matter and that only his sister and brothers were important. You carefully asked about the scar on the right side of his head, now fully covered with thick, unruly silver hair. He glossed over it as an injury and no big deal. He deflected by asking you about yourself. This man was perfectly happy to talk less and hear you speak more. He listened intently and threw brief tidbits in and sometimes his signature “Mmhmm.”

Still, he seemed haunted by something and absolutely refused to talk about it. You sensed it never really left his mind and constantly grappled with something deep. Something he regretted with all his being.

You both sat at the table watching the surf, taking turns sipping from the mug of caf. The breakfast platter was eaten and empty. He was unusually quiet.

Then he finally spoke. “I’m leaving Pabu.”

“What?” You, shocked. It seemed so sudden. “Why???”

“I...” He sighed and looked down at the table. “Need to make amends for certain...things.” His expression was one of thinly veiled shame.

“Don’t know what to say...” Struggling for words. “How long will you be gone?”

“I’m not coming back.” His brows furrowed sadly. There was a lot of emotion, and you could see the difficulty he had expressing it.

Speechless, you stared ahead and watched the surf pull away from the shoreline. There would be no more shared caf and breakfasts with this man. The days of looking forward with anticipation to the mornings would end.

You both sat for some time in silence, listening to the waves. In...out...in...out...as if the island was breathing.

Finally, you felt his gaze. Turning to meet the saddest, deepest brown eyes. Such a pitiful yet touching display that hit you even harder in the gut.

“I’m...grateful to have shared the time we had together. I don’t say that lightly.” His hand slowly advanced palm up on the table begging to be joined with another.

You slid your hand in his and squeezed. “I’ll miss you.” Tears forming in your eyes.

He squeezed back, nodded, then let go. Getting up from the table he whispered “Goodbye.”

“Take this! I made it for you...even if I hadn’t known it yet.” You handed him the empty mug.

He took it with a look of surprise. Then he turned away before you could see the tears in his eyes.

But you saw them. You will never forget that.

Then he was gone.

You sat the rest of the day listening to the ocean breathe. Watching the sun make its progression across the sky, finally dipping below the horizon. You walked home under the stars of Pabu...one of them a low fast-moving light: A ship departing the planet.

Sleep was fretful. Finally frustrated with tossing and turning, you got up, dressed and walked to the studio. Firing up the lights, set the holo on your favorite “create playlist”, and sitting down at the potter’s wheel. Tonight, there would be a new design even if it meant staying up all night to mold, dry, glaze, and fire this creation. You threw yourself into the task, singing, and occasionally wiping away a stray tear.

The sun rose over Pabu. You washed out the new creation: A mug of blazing crimson red, raised relief of the sun, with a magnificent metallic gold corona. Fresh caf brewed in the studio. You poured it steaming hot into the mug. Then closed the studio for the day, leaving a message in the window when it would reopen, and proceeded down to “your” table.

You expected to be alone once again...however...there was someone sitting under the Cascade Tree.

She was blond, dark skinned and looked to be a young teenager. You could tell she had been crying.

“Hello?”

“Sorry...Just wanted some privacy. My brother would come here to sit and be alone.” She moved to get up.

“You don’t have to leave. Please stay.”

She spied the mug in your hand, and the pieces fell into place.

“You’re Y/N!” Her eyes widened. “He talked about you a LOT. He’s never done that with anyone before.”

Warm intense feelings welled up inside you. They spilled out across your face in a smile.

“What’s your name?”

“Omega.”

You set the mug of caf down in front of her.

“Well Omega, looks like I made this for you...even though I hadn’t known it yet.”

PLEASE like, comment, and/or REBLOG!

IF YOU WISH TO BE ADDED OR DROPPED FROM MY TAG LIST, PLEASE MESSAGE ME! Don't just comment as I might miss it. Thanks!!! <3

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haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted · 10 months ago

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Shadow Scar - Refuge by Bad Moon Art Studio

#Shadow Scar #Sci-Fi #Bad Moon Art Studio

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ninja-knox-ur-sox-off · 6 months ago

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Alright, I’ve been sitting on this for a while and I think i’ve managed to sort out my thoughts so it’s not just agonized internal screaming. Time to finally talk about Monkie Kid Season 5.

Quick Disclaimers before we get started: please keep in mind i’m probably gonna be a little negative here. I’m not going after the animators or the writers or anything of the sort, I just need to get this out and slapping it on my blog just makes sense so people have the option to ignore it. Yes, I’m still grateful we still have the show, yes I’m still happy we have the same VA’s, don’t come at me. I’m not gonna get too salty cause I’ve gotten most of that out methinks and too much salt is bad for ya health, but I still do wanna talk about it and I’m still gonna be at least a little salty. If you’re not interested in hearing anything negative about the future of season five please don’t feel obligated to read. And please DO NOT take this as an invitation to bash on the new studio or anyone else in the replies, I really don’t wanna see that, go make your own post if you want to do that. I’m going to keep it under the cut so it’s easy to scroll past.

Welp, if you’re here to read, buckle up and here we go!

To start off, let's get the big personal bias thing out of the way: I strongly dislike puppet animation.

I say ‘strongly dislike’ and not hate because, while I hate most puppet animation, there is Bluey which is the best puppet animation can offer. I didn’t even know it was puppet animation for a while because of how beautifully it’s animated, so, puppet animation does have potential, I’m not gonna deny that. However, I hate that it is always used to replace 2D animation. It’s the cheaper, faster option and I can’t even begin to count the amount of shows that have started off with the plans for being 2D before being ultimately scrapped in favor of either puppet animation or 3D. Monkie Kid was the outlier in all that for me. It was 2D and it felt right. It was gorgeous and good for my brain to look at, it made me excited for animation and for art. It really was so incredibly special to me in a way it just can’t be anymore without Flying Bark’s animation. I probably won’t stop watching but, because of my dislike of puppet animation, it might be a bit of a struggle to get my brain to focus on it the way it used to, (we’ll see.) Absolutely no shade to Wildbrain (the new animation studio) they have worked miracles in the short time that they’ve had, they’ve managed to very closely replicate the style of monkie kid, and they are excellent at what they do, but when things are rushed (LEGO, [derogatory]) it makes it very hard to maintain a high standard, especially when we have something like Flying Bark’s animation to compare it to. And listen, please don’t tell me it looks similar to Flying Bark’s animation, please don’t send me shots and tell me but look how close it is! This one’s gorgeous! Because, at least to me… it’s not.

I’m the kind of person who sits in a room and I see a picture is crooked while no one else in the room notices. It could be off by centimeters but I still notice. It hurts my brain to look at and I go a bit insane until I can get up and straighten it, which usually makes people laugh and honestly yeah it’s kinda funny, but I really can’t stand things looking off, and, despite Wildbrain’s valiant attempt and excellent replication of the style, everything in the trailer we got looks off to me. From the framing, to the animation, to the design of the new characters; from the perspective to the coloring, everything is off and my ‘PLEASE LET ME STRAIGHTEN THE PICTURE’ brain hurts looking at it. I’m not trying to rag on the animation, I know they’re doing their best. Off things just hurt my brain to look at.

That’s why I loved Flying Bark’s animation so much. From Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles to Monkie Kid to Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur, Flying Bark’s animation has scratched that itch in my brain that has desperately wanted things to look right. Everything is just so shaped!!! AAA!!!

Now, there are episodes of monkie kid that I’m not as big of a fan of. Impossible Delivery is one of them. I’m not a fan of how some scenes are drawn in it, so I tend to avoid it a lot. And that was done by Flying Bark so, this new animation for Monkie Kid is really doing a number on me.

…that being said: I still aint’ about that ‘flying bark started out awkward too’

Once again, ABSOLUTELY NO SHADE TO WILDBRAIN, (or anyone who’s said this at any point, I ain’t coming for your kneecaps,) they have done a SPECTACULAR job replicating Flying Bark’s style in the time that they have and I’m sure LEGO has been putting them through the wringer and rushing them through stuff (which I’ll complain about in a minute) but that’s the thing… They replicated Flying Bark’s Style. Style and animation are two completely separate things. This same drama was used by critics to bash the crap out of ROTTMNT when it first came out; they kept saying the animation was ugly, but it wasn’t, the animation was gorgeous, it was the style that they disliked because, most shows right now start off clunky and a little ugly and that’s just how it is. (Also the promotional material for Rise dragged it through the mud. I will always be salty about that.)

The pilot of monkie kid’s style wasn't all the way there, I’m not gonna deny that. The crew at flying bark were still figuring things out how to draw lego, BUT. The perspective, the framing, and the animation were all on point and just as gorgeous as the rest of the series. When I hear the argument that Flying Bark wasn’t great at first either it makes me want to tear my hair out because it WAS great. IT WAS ABSOLUTELY GREAT, FROM THE BEGINNING, THEIR ANIMATION HAS BEEN GORGEOUS IN MONKIE KID SINCE DAY ONE. The style is what was off. With this new animation we have the opposite experience. Instead of an awkward style with a god tier animation, we have a pretty excellent replication of a good style with an animation form I personally am not a very big fan of. It’s jarring. And even though I’m sure wildbrain will indeed get into their own groove, it will likely never be as earth shattering as Flying Bark because Flying Bark is Flying Bark and what they did was possible because of 2D.

Onto yelling at lego here we go: 'Be grateful it wasn’t canceled'

I’ma be real, this one bugs me the most.

The animation industry right now sucks. There’s no denying it. We have incredible artists left and right being messed over by studios and companies, entirely completed series being deleted, artists being ripped off, overworked and underpaid, outsourcing in every way they can, the disrespect of A/I, and 2D animation especially being dragged through the mud, even with groundbreaking 2D+3D movies like Spider-Verse and award winning movies like The Boy and the Heron, proving 2D is far from dead. Shows are being canceled before their second or third seasons, ideas are being recycled, so many people have watched their favorite things end too soon, and I’m one of them. Bro I was into DRAGON BOOSTER as a kid. Do you know that show? Probably not. It was canceled after one season YEARS ago and ended on a cliffhanger that makes me hurt to this day and I was a kid back then. (Incredible show btw you should give it a watch.) This cancellation thing isn’t new. I got on board with Rise only to see it sniped because Nickelodeon is stupid. Legend of Korra got messed over by Nickelodeon too. I have experienced cancellation/rushed endings before and it sucks. And it fills me with rage to see the bar is so low, that we should all just be okay with what happened because ‘at least it wasn’t canceled.’ I’m not mad at the people saying this, I’m just upset that this is what the reality of animation is. Heck I'm allowed to be upset about it.

And, let’s be real for a second here… Monkie Kid is LEGO’s product for China. It’s making them money. Canceling monkie kid would be shooti ng themselves in the foot more than anything else. LEGO is not hurting for money. Ninjago ran for FIFTEEN seasons and is still running today in this soft-reboot with even better animation than before. LEGO has the means. They don’t need to rush animators to finish things or underpay people. Flying Bark is in big demand right now because more and more people are noticing how good their stuff is. I’m willing to bet their schedule is packed, (they’re working on the ATLA movie which I have mixed emotions about but at least the animation’s gonna be BANGER and last I heard a stranger things animated series??) and when you’re in that high of demand you have to raise your prices, that’s just how that works. But even with that, given enough patience, time, and proper pay, I have no doubt they could have done Monkie Kid as well. We know Lego was pushing them way too hard to animate Monkie Kid and that animation is INSANE and not cheap. LEGO can afford that. But they decided it wasn’t worth that.

Okay don’t quote me on that last bit. I really didn’t want to start going off about conspiracy theories but I admit I get really frustrated when I hear the ‘at least it wasn’t canceled’ thing because I know there’s more going on behind the scenes, people just aren’t transparent about it. Studios and companies right now don’t really care about the quality of things, it’s the artists and the writers and the creators that care about the quality. There are other 2D studios out there but LEGO chose to go with puppet animation because it's faster and cheaper. I am always going to be upset about that. Am I grateful Monkie Kid wasn’t canceled? Sure. But at the same time I don’t want to feel grateful for the bare minimum. I’m angry at the state of the animation industry that no one in the higher-ups of these industries seem to respect 2D animators or 2D animation in general, that no one seems to understand how much skill it takes to animate and how worth investing in it is. And seeing people tell others upset by this that they should be grateful they have anything at all just rubs me the wrong way.

And the audacity to change the animation is ridiculous to me because a huge part of the audience for LMK is here because of the animation. It’s not like Ninjago, which started off with low budget 3D and slowly got better and better over time with a few dips here and there. We started off with one of the best 2D animated shows of all time, (in my monkey obsessed opinion,) animated the way it was to draw in an audience, and suddenly for no reason at all and no prior warning we’ve dropped down to what every pilot of every puppet animation children show looks like these days. It feels like a crummy thing to do. Yes, I’m aware we’re lucky we still have a show, yes I’m grateful we still have the same VA’s and the same writers. But this is a big and abrupt change and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t suck.

Okay, onto my biggest concern: how the writing of the show will pair with this new animation.

With all due respect and love to the writers, Monkie Kid is awful when it comes to biased narration in their storytelling. It has relied so so heavily on visual storytelling to fill in the gaps and tell us what’s actually going on while the dialogue is lying to our face. If you’re not looking, it can lead you to woefully misunderstand the characters and what is happening. It’s a style of writing that I’m not a super big fan of, BUT I, for the most part (aside from fandom craziness,) enjoyed it! Because the animation helped it hold up. What made the storytelling work was the nuance and incredible detail in Flying Bark’s animation. You could analyze every expression, every style difference in flashbacks, and it would tell you so much; I am a SUCKER for that kind of stuff--drawing expressions and emotions is something I love so much--and Flying Bark served it to me on a silver platter with a golden spoon and crystal clear mountain water. The scope of what Flying Bark was able to do… I just don’t know if it can be replicated in puppet animation and that scares me a bit storytelling wise. Because I don’t want to be stressed out by Monkie Kid and unreliable narrators have a habit of stressing me out. It’s not to bad as long as it’s resolved later, but Monkie Kid has a habit of blowing over things, especially in regards to the lies told about Wukong and the only thing that tells us something different happened are the visuals, which stresses me out cause it results in INTENSE fandom bashing my favorite monkey and it’s really hard to avoid. (This is why I stepped back so far from interacting with the fandom.) I don’t want something that brought me comfort in my darkest times to be twisted into something I no longer want to see.

Is this the worst possible thing to have happened? No, of course not. It’s definitely not all that awesome either. For me it’s like eating at a gourmet restaurant having their insane mac n cheese every day for years and then suddenly you’re served KD from the dollar store and told you should be grateful because it could be worse, all the while the restaurant keeps its gourmet title. There’s nothing wrong with KD but bro I want my mac n cheese--

The fact that there was no prior warning is what really makes all this feel so sucky. I know this isn’t the end of monkie kid, but the animation is one of the biggest things that made the show unique, it’s what drew so many incredible artists in, it’s what inspired me to create and make friends and keep living. The animation provided nuance to the characters when the writing sometimes fell flat. It gave insights and information that worked well with the face-paced storytelling and brought the incredible voice acting to life. It’s not really going to be the same without it.

There is ofc more than just the animation that made monkie kid great. The voice actors, the SOUNDTRACK, the sound effects are all off the charts insanely high quality but man. It’s not complete without it. There’s a big ol’ gaping hole in the show and in my heart and as much as I love the show, that’s really rough. Because it’s not as though this makes things better. The quality didn’t drop because people wanted it to be easier for animators to animate, Wildbrain I’m sure is having a time meeting LEGO’s crazy deadlines right now, just like Flying Bark did. There was so much reused animation in season 4 because of how hard LEGO was riding animators' tails and pushing them to get things out faster and faster and I was more than alright with the reused animation so the animators could catch a break. But instead of backing off and being respectful of the time it takes to animate, LEGO dropped Flying Bark like a hot potato and immediately went to the cheaper, faster puppet animation. (JUST A THEORY/VENT DON’T QUOTE ME.) It’s not like there aren’t other 2D animation studios out there but they picked the puppet. And that SUCKS. I would have been okay waiting another year for monkie kid easy because Flying Bark is WORTH IT. I understand how long things take and that if I want a high quality product its going to take skill and time. It hurts me to watch animators having it rough because no one else seems to get that.

Alright in conclusion: We’ve only seen a few seconds of the trailer.

It’s hard to judge what the entire show will look like based off of that little. It could be incomplete, Wildbrain could get better, they could find their groove, I ain’t gonna rag on the animation because it’s giving you exactly the quality--maybe even higher--expected of what it is. It’s puppet animation. I dunno what to tell you man. But it’s not about that for me. For me it’s about 2D. It’s about some of the greatest animation I’ve ever seen being replaced when it didn’t need to be and that sucks. Flying Bark gave us the world and we didn’t lose that for any reason other than money and greed and impatience. That is so discouraging and upsetting. It is something else to go from every frame leaving me breathless and staring and in awe over the quality of the animation to Puppet Animation. The change hurts. Honestly, I never thought I would be as devastated as I am. I’ve processed a bit but I think it’s always going to suck because of how important monkie kid has become to me. I miss flying bark so much already. I’m still going to try and watch the show, but we’ll see how my brain does with the puppet animation. Don’t go ragging on the animators, guys, they’re doing their best and I gotta respect em.

I do wish we’d gotten more time to mourn flying bark’s absence. I wish people had gotten a heads up when season 4 had ended so they could have time to adjust and then get ready for the new style, because watching everyone hype themselves up for flying barks’ animation only to be told they're gone by a trailer kiiiinda sucks. But I digress.

I do find it funny it took changing animation studios for us to finally get a trailer and poster on time before the eps drop. So in a way, I appreciate that much of a warning at least. Better than nothing! And we’ve always wanted a trailer out first lol HGLKJSDF

I ain’t even gonna pretend I ain’t spoiled as HECK by flying bark’s animation. Honestly without it, I don’t know if I’d be as attached to the characters as I am. Real talk, I don’t know if I ever would have even watched Monkie Kid without it. I’m gonna miss flying bark with all I have in me and it's going to make rewatching and enjoying the show hard because of all this. I’m going to miss the time when every part of this show was a comfort to my brain and soul. Flying Bark's energy is unmatched, they bring a life to things that I haven’t seen anywhere else and I’m always gonna be grateful for the time I had with them animating Monkie Kid.

This is it. No more more Flying Bark monkie kid. The end. And that’s going to sting for a while. And probably keep stinging throughout the new season because… well… I love monkie kid. So seeing it become something else is going to hurt, especially if you hold it so close to your heart.

These new animators are doing their best and we can’t fault em for that. It ain’t their fault the animation industry is what it is. It’s great we still have the show going when so many other things have gotten canceled but the fact the bar is so low can hurt like heck too.

We’re gonna miss flying bark for a long time. It’s so goofy that something as simple as animation could have burrowed so deep into our hearts but it has and that’s truly wondrous and the magic of storytelling. I love shows. I love movies. I love what monkie kid was, and I hope I can learn to be okay with what it will be now. (Even with my ‘STRAIGHTEN THE PICTURE’ brain screaming at me lol.) Wishing you all the best, don’t make fun of the animation needlessly or go after the animators, be kind to them and to each other. If you wanna be salty don't send it to me just make ur own post thanks ima drop this and then go try some positivity lol. Until next time! I’ll see you in Monkie Kid season 5

Knox out

#aint no way im putting this in the main tag #knox rambles #comeback kid #monkie kid salt #salt #not sure how to tag this ITS A LONG ONE BOYS #i had 3k worth of thoghts built up #you can see where i get more RAAA emotions lol #its out we good #i think that'll be it for me for salt about the animation change #unless the season comes out and its wild #salt about writing may show up now that flying barks outta here we'll see i like to keep things light but eh #HOPE Y'ALL HAVING AS A GOOD A DAY AS U CAN #boi did i ramble HDJFJJGG #i do watch puppet animation shows from time to time but i have always wondered what they would look like in 2D gods #the three caballeros show is one of em i desperately wanted 2d of |;A;/#okay im outta here gotta get ready to go getting out of rhe house this evening PEACE #it is a bit of a vent so #vent #hdjfjjgg ALRIGHT SKIDADDLIN

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morganbritton132 · 2 years ago

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based on one of your latest tiktok saga posts:

I'm convinced that when people heard billy hargrove apparently had a crush on steve, a small but dedicated portion of eddie's followers started jokingly stanning billy. the cross section of conspiracy theorists / shitposters absolutely clowns all over eddie's comments with shit like "simping for the man who hit you with his car is king behaviour" and "wow, steve literally ran this guy over and he really just said thank you m'am. pathetic. I'm kissing him on the mouth btw."

I also like to imagine eddie would absolutely loathe this development

Oh my god, this is hilarious and very, very apt for internet culture. People were jokingly stanning Billy and then someone with an old Hawkins High yearbook posts a picture of him, and people realized he was hot then, game over. It’s the worst week of Eddie’s life and he once was on the run for murder, fought an interdimensional slime monster with daddy issues, and died in the same week.

I think Eddie absolutely adores fan art. His studio is lined with art that people have given him and that he’s bought from fans. He was even more over the moon when people started drawing art of him and Steve, but then. Then, these very talented jokesters in his comments are posting fan art of Steve with Billy.

Just imagine the amount of discourse Billy would create on the internet. It’d be worse than the discourse in the ST fandom, because Eddie has never had an opinion that he hasn’t shared. He’d let people know that he hates this. Billy was a bully who harassed him and his friends and liked shitty music.

This would egg people on more, I think, because that’s how the internet works. But Dustin, as president of the Steve Harrington fan club, would not let that slide. He posts a Tiktok like, “Uh, guys. You’re very talent artists and all, but uh. Billy Hargrove tried to kill Steve. He *picture of Steve after Hopper took him to the hospital* beat Steve up really bad and he wouldn’t have stopped if Max didn’t drug him. He ran me and my friends off the road once. And he was racist. He tried to fight Lucas.”

Max also posts. She talks about how hard it was after Billy died and how it nearly killed her, but she also talks about how he wasn’t a good brother, how afraid she was of him, and how he attacked Lucas and attacked Steve for sticking up for them. She doesn’t really want to see him on her FYP.

This leads to so much fighting between people who view Billy as their new white boy of the month and people who are like, why are you retraumatizing that girl in a wheelchair (I imagine post-season 4 Max does have mobility of her legs and walks with a limp or a cane, but sometimes still has to use a wheelchair). It’s just very annoying until the next big scandal happens and people stop talking about it.

#I maintain that Eddie is pretentious enough about his music that he separates heavy metal and hair metal #the only overlap is that I think both are probably Motley Crue fans but Eddie won’t acknowledge that #Steve is still blissfully unaware that a portion of the internet ship him with his high school bully #anti billy hargrove #I actually really like Billy as a character. I think he’s interesting but these characters should hate him #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson tiktok saga

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blackmoonlightexpress · 1 year ago

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Fun Facts behind TTEOTM!

Creative Team

Till the End of the Moon is the second TV drama produced by newcomer Otters Studio (獭獭文化), which was originally set up for dangai/BL drama Immortality (皓衣行), also featuring Luo Yunxi.

The Hangzhou-based Otters Studio is a subsidiary of Nanpai Entertainment (南派泛娱), the company owned by Kenneth Xu (aka “Third Uncle" 南派三叔). Xu is best known as the novelist and screenwriter behind "Grave Robbers' Chronicles" (盗墓笔记).

A big part of TTEOTM's core creative team also worked on Immortality. And a lot of the Immortality team came from Ashes of Love (2018) with Luo Yunxi. This includes...

He Fang (Screenwriter) - Immortality

Luo Xuan (Screenwriter & Associate Producer) - Immortality

Huang Wei (Costume Designer) - Immortality

Guan Dazhou (Music Director) - Immortality

Wang Yirong (Lead Producer) - Immortality

Wang Haiqi (B Unit Director & Action Director) - Immortality & Ashes of Love

Tsang Mingfai (Makeup Designer) - Immortality & Ashes of Love

Shen Xufei (Special Effects Director) - Immortality & Ashes of Love

Hua Tian World Concept - Immortality & Ashes of Love

Wang Haiqi was the stunt coordinator who trained Luo Yunxi in Ashes of Love

Part of the creative team came from Huanyu (Bai Lu's management company, aka the production company of Yanxi Palace). This includes award-winning art director Luan Hexin, Huang Xinyao (Yue Fuya) and Liu Min (Nan'an).

This is the second time Luo Yunxi and Bai Lu have paired up in a drama. They previously played a couple in modern workplace romance Love is Sweet (2020). Bai Lu expressed interest publicly in pairing up with LYX again in a costume drama numerous times.

In addition, a number of Love is Sweet actors have minor roles or cameos in TTEOTM:

Zhao Yuanyuan (Qiao Na aka Yuan Shuai's colleague who has a crush on him) plays the Moon Goddess

Cheng Chang (Jiang Jun's father) plays Ye Xiwu's father

Deng Jinghong (Jiang Jun and Yuan Shuai's shady client) plays Ye Xiwu's brother Ye Zeyu

The popularity of TTEOTM has generated renewed interest in Love is Sweet on iQiyi. In the first half of 2023, Love is Sweet is ranked #5 on Yunhe's "old/classic drama" list, receiving 360M views (10M views/episode), equivalent to airing a new medium-budget drama.

Two actors in Ashes of Love also have minor roles in TTEOTM:

Wang Yifei (Shuihe aka peacock princess in Ashes of Love) plays the Devil God's lieutenant Siying

He Zhonghua (Heavenly Emperor aka Runyu's father) plays the King of Sheng, again terrorizing Luo Yunxi's childhood

In addition, a number of TTEOTM actors play minor roles in the unaired Immortality:

Huang Yunyun (Yue Yingxin) plays Song Qiutong

Zheng Guolin (Qu Xuanzi aka Susu's father) plays Jiangxi

Huang Haibing (Zhaoyou) plays Nangong Zhangying

He Zhonghua (King of Sheng) plays Nangong Liu

Geng Yeting (Ye Qingyu) plays an unknown role

Production

The source novel (黑月光拿稳BE剧本) was optioned by Otter before it was complete due to strong early hype around the IP and interesting characters & premise. It's one of the top 10 most-saved web novels of that genre on the Jinjiang platform. Its title literally translates to "black moonlight is guaranteed a bad ending screenplay".

The screenplay was written for 40 episodes, which was edited into 50 episodes of probably 45 mins each. The original plan (based on governmental records) was to air 34 episodes as part 1 and 16 episodes as part 2. However, the NRTA (Chinese government agency that regulates TV) closed the loophole around airing two seasons back to back early this year, which is why TTEOTM was edited back down to 40 episodes of 55 mins each so that it could air in one go.

TTEOTM changed its Chinese title twice. It was originally named 月照千峰为一人 (The moon shines for one person). It was then renamed to 长月无烬 (long moon without Jin/ember, also a pun for without limit or endless), which is the official publication name proposed by fans of the web novel. Right before the booting ceremony, it was renamed 长月烬明 likely for auspicious reasons (especially after the LYX accident and Immortality not airing)

Some keen netizens have noticed that if you break apart the characters of its Chinese title, 长月烬明, it becomes 长月火尽日月, which literally means....

长月 (long moon) - how people refer to the drama, in its short form

火 (fire) - Chinese internet lingo for explosive or popular

尽日月 (to the end of sun and moon)

(Gotta give one to Chinese people for coming up with auspicious names)

Luo Yunxi was injured right before production began when filming his final scene in Light Chaser Rescue. He got punched in the mouth by a costar which required emergency surgery and left a scar on the top left corner of his mouth. Production was delayed as a result. Bai Lu had to film her solo scenes first starting Oct 19, 2021. The booting ceremony took place on Nov 6, 2021 after Luo Yunxi joined the set.

Luo Yunxi was the first actor to be cast, according to an interview with the producer. It is rumored that he might have even picked which novel to adapt as Otter initially optioned both "Black Moonlight" and "Black Lotus Casebook". Bai Lu is also the "only choice" for Li Susu according to Yu Zheng.

Yin Tao (Who Rules The world, Love & Redemption, and Ancient Love Poetry) was originally considered for director, but he worked on the Blood of Youth instead. In the end they went with Kuk Kok Leung, an award-winning veteran TVB director who has adapted 7 out of 8 Jin Yong novels. One of the Cantonese songs Luo Yunxi kept singing on set is the OST of the 1983 Condor Heroes where Kuk served as Assistant Director.

Sun Zhenni (Pianran) and Zhao Shiyi (Fuyu) won their roles through open casting call. Sun Zhenni was a big fan of Bai Lu, and the two became close friends during the shoot. She is 1/4 German Jewish through her paternal grandmother.

Chen Duling (Ye Bingchang / Tian Huan) briefly dated Xichao Wang (who plays Jing Mie, the demon god's other lieutenant). They were apparently introduced by Yu Zheng (boss of Bai Lu's studio).

Luo Yunxi and Sun Zhenni are the only actors who dubbed themselves in the drama. Bai Lu is dubbed by Duan Yixuan, who is also the voice behind Linglong in Love & Redemption.

This is the second time Luo Yunxi plays a dragon god (Runyu is the first). This is also the second time Bai Lu plays a character who leaps off the tower to her death in a costume drama.

Post-production was rumored to be delayed and then rushed due to a number of reasons, including covid which hit the special effects team hard and the last minute change of the 40-episode rule.

Promotion

During the premiere day, celebrities posted on Weibo to promote the drama in support of Luo Yunxi (usually actors only ask for this favor when it's a really important project to their career): Huang Xiaoming, Tan Songyun, Wu Jingyan, Chen Yuqi, Cheng Xiao, Victoria Song, Zhang Ruonan, Huang Xuan, Chen Yao. The most noteworthy ones were Chen Xiao (whose drama was also opening on the same day) and EDG (the esports team that LYX supports)

#till the end of the moon #luo yunxi #bai lu #black moonlight holds the be script #cdrama #chang yue jin ming #chinese drama #tantai jin #tteotm #ye xiwu #ashes of love #immortality #2ha #love is sweet #leo luo

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