#minimalist exhibition

[leibal]

Within an industrial-style loft in Brooklyn’s Williamsburg neighborhood, Italian design champion Patrizio Chiarparini founded Duplex in 2015. Curating pieces from iconic design brands, groundbreaking talents, and master artisans, Duplex recently revealed Utopia, an exhibition celebrating the revolutionary fervor of post World War II Italian design.

[alexvnderblvck]

"Faces of Tomorrow" by @alexvnderblvck

Feat. Ally

[freshdesignflow]

‘Flow’ by Daisuke Yamamoto for Milan Design Week 23.

[ahomeartgallery]

Had an enjoyable studio visit yesterday with Pollyxenia Joannou.

I’m pleased to be exhibiting some of Polly’s minimalist paintings in Home’s September group show.

[lovefrenchisbetter]

Alvar Aalto : Architecture and Furniture

[criticcritiquing]

[lenamuellerart]

My exhibition „Fernblick“ at Kreativlabor in Erlangen has been extended. These and other works can be seen until May 25th!

More information about opening times: www.kreativlabor-erlangen.com/kontakt

Botschafter # 11 / Watercolour, colored pencil, ink on mould made paper / 395 x 530 mm / 2024

See also: www.instagram.com/lenamueller_artist

[ifyourmindwasaroom]

A large art installation simulates a cigarette box with a lid open, revealing blue water inside. The piece is displayed in a bright gallery, surrounded by white columns.

[santaclaralocalnews]

“Deal with the space around the model,” minimalist artist Brice Marden told a young David Einstein in a life drawing class. That advice, Einstein says, was a turning point for him and the genesis of his half-century adventure of light, color and line. All of these are on display at the Triton’s current exhibit, David Einstein: Works on Paper. Read complete article at SVVOICE.

[sxgakookie]

Summary: You're an author giving a talk for your newest published work, when you're asked a question about your recent engagement to Kim Namjoon. The question gives you an opportunity to relive the chance meeting and the sweet moments that made you fall for your fiancé. Genre: Fluff, Smut (softdom! and idol!Namjoon x reader) Rating/Warnings: Adults Only (Strong language, oral [male and female receiving], riding and missionary sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms) Word Count: ~5.6k words

“Our conversation is about to wrap, and I know that we have questions from the audience, but there is one more thing I’d like to mention.” The interviewer, Ji-ah, said with a bright, white smile. “Your recent engagement to Kim Namjoon. I just wanted to say congratulations.” 

“Thank you.” You blushed, not expecting your fiancé to come up in the interview. The audience clapped, with smiles, clearly happy to see you happy. 

“I just wanted to ask, what is that story?” Ji-ah asked. “How did the two of you get together?” 

“Well,” You laughed, thinking back to past moments, like flipping pages in your memory book. You look out into the audience, speaking to everyone there with sparkling eyes. “We met in this beautiful city, actually. It was during my first trip here, to Seoul.” 

You stood in your hotel room, slipping on a newly purchased pair of black patent leather heels, perfect for your planned night out. It was something you were looking forward to, after working all day, signing Korean-language copies of your most recent best seller. Ever since landing in Seoul, you had wanted to explore the city, particularly its art scene, as art has always been a love of yours, wherever you traveled. 

After you slipped on the heels, you did a quick check in the mirror, making sure your makeup, hair and dress were to your liking. You threw on a beige coat for the cold, winter winds outside, and made your way down the hall of the hotel, to meet your driver outside. 

Seoul was beautiful at night, especially when the snow was light and fluffy. Flakes collected on the glass of the backseat window, where you watched the buildings pass by. The streets were illuminated by the soft glow of street lights, and, despite the cold temperatures, people were bracing the weather, still out and about. You sent a quick text to your literary agent, to thank her for getting you into this exhibition opening, barely being able to press send before you had arrived. 

The gallery was small and intimate, with bright white walls and dark, black floors, giving it a modern yet still warm feel. When you entered, a polite employee took your coat for you, and offered you a glass of red wine. You accepted with a smile and a ‘thank you’ in your best Korean, before heading off into the crowd. 

If there were anyone there that you knew, you wouldn’t have noticed with the way your eyes latched to the work of Agnes Martin. Beautiful, minimalist works graced the white walls, etches of grids with a human touch. You stood in front of one, its color a deep blue, and allowed yourself to get lost in the work. 

A man, who had been walking the circumference of the room opposite of you, had met you in the middle, at this deep blue piece. He stood next to you, towering over you with his rather tall height and toned body. He raised his own glass of wine to his lips, and caught glimpses of you out of the corner of his eye, noticing you were doing the same. 

“This one is gorgeous, isn't it?” You finally spoke, being the first to break the ice. 

“Yeah.” He nodded, taking another short sip. “It’s so easy to just get lost in her work.” 

“Mhm.” You hummed in agreement. “Like you’re melting into it.” 

The man turned to face you directly, making the size difference even more pronounced. He had sparkling dark eyes, and thick black hair, styled well. He was more casually dressed than many of the people there, and like yourself, one of the younger attendees, though you felt he was a couple years older than you. 

“I’m Namjoon.” He introduced himself with a smile. It was infectious, you noted, as you mimicked with your own smile. Your eyes flashed to his deep dimples on his cheeks. 

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.” 

“Y/N… Y/L/N?” Namjoon asked, his eyes widening. “You just published a book here, didn't you?” 

“I did.” You smiled warmly. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to know me here.” 

“Actually, I had read it only like, a day or two after it came out.” Namjoon explained. “Hidden Places, right? Yeah I um, to be honest, I don’t usually read essay collections but your book may have changed my mind.” 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” You said. “And also, you’re Kim Namjoon, right? The musician?” 

“Yeah.” He flashed his dimples. “It’s hard to be a stranger sometimes, right?” 

“Definitely.” You laughed. “But, it’s ok. I suppose you get used to it. So, you collect her work?” You asked, your head motioning towards the work. 

“Not yet.” Namjoon said. “That’s why I came tonight, seeing if anything stuck out to me.” 

“And?” You asked. “Did it?” 

“Maybe.” He said, looking back at you. You smiled under his gaze, and there was a moment of pause, as Namjoon’s eyes lingered on you for just a bit. “Do you, uh… Do you collect her work?” 

“Not really.” You shook your head. “But I’m a fan. Just haven’t sold that many books yet, you know?” 

“Right.” He nodded. 

“I read Olivia Laing’s essay about her, and I really became a fan of hers through that.” You mentioned, walking to the next piece together. 

“Yeah?” Namjoon said, his brows raised. “Why?” 

“Because it’s amazing to me how a woman with such a complicated and chaotic life, could create work that’s so… still.” You said, as though talking to yourself. “It’s peaceful. Y’know, sometimes, we say that we try to see ourselves in art, but I don’t think that’s true. I think we try to see our ideal version of ourselves in art. So if we live messy, chaotic lives, we’re drawn to something like this. Peaceful. Simple. Because that’s what we’d like our lives to be.” 

Namjoon listened intensely, his focus on your lips, as if he were reading the words you were speaking directly. 

“Is that what you’d like your life to be?” He asked, with another sip of his wine. 

“Maybe.” You shrugged, before realizing how long you’ve talked. “I’m babbling, sorry.” You blushed.

“No, it’s great.” He confessed. “I think you’re right. Maybe that’s why I like her work, too.. I think I’d like my life to be more simple.” 

“Same.” You laughed together, and sipped your wine. 

You continued chatting throughout the night, content to meet a friend in a new city. Namjoon carried himself with a warmth to him that was so genuine, and it radiated throughout the whole room. Many people came up to speak to him, and you couldn’t tell if he knew each one or not, because he spoke to each person as though they had been friends for years. It was nice, you thought, to meet someone so personable in a world that seems so isolated. 

The night was coming to a close, and tipsy patrons were making their way out of the gallery. Namjoon walked out with you, both of you with your hands in your coat pockets. You could see your breath in the cold air, and your driver parked parallel on the street. 

“It was lovely meeting you. Thanks for keeping me company tonight.” You smiled. 

“Any time.” He responded. “Hey, um… How long are you in the city for?” 

“About a week or so,” You said. “I’m here for work, but my nights are free. Next weekend, I’m leaving for some events in Busan.” 

“While you’re here, I was thinking I could show you around.” Namjoon said. “If you’d like to.” 

“Yeah, for sure.” You nodded. “That would be great.” 

You exchanged numbers, and Namjoon gave a promise to call you. He stood on the sidewalk, and watched you run through the falling snow to the black SUV that was waiting for you. When you closed the door, you could see that he was still there, smiling at you and waving you goodbye. 

“Wow.” Ji-ah smiled. “What a chance meeting, right?” 

“It was.” You said gently. “To be honest, I assumed we’d both be too busy and forget to call each other, or I just thought, ‘Hey, I have a new friend in a new city. Sure, he’s cute, but whatever. It’s fine.’” You laughed, and the audience laughed too. 

“But, he obviously did call.” Ji-ah said with a grin. 

“He did.” You nodded. “Just like he said he would, the very next day. And me, being as oblivious as I am, didn’t realize we weren’t just making plans to ‘hang out.’ I never even considered he had more in mind.” 

“You didn’t realize it could’ve been a date?” Ji-ah laughed, alongside you and the audience. 

“No!” You giggled. “I seriously thought he was just my new friend.” 

“So… What happened?” Ji-ah asked. 

Namjoon glanced at the time on his phone, knowing he was early. The reservations weren’t for another fifteen minutes, and as he watched his own breath escape his lips, he cursed his own excitement for bringing him here this early. But, he wanted to make sure you weren’t waiting for him so, here he was, alone and cold in front of the restaurant. 

He watched as people went about their evening, trying to take his mind off the chills he had. Kids across the street laughed as they played in front of the convenience store, where two men in suits ate instant ramen from cheap to-go bowls, seated in front of the window. Namjoon noted their loose ties, and wondered if they worked together, getting food to decompress after a hard day, or if they just found each other in the same place, at the same time. 

“Hey!” You yelled with a wave, snapping Namjoon out of his daze. You were on the other side of the street, waiting for the traffic light to change. He smiled and waved back, and watched how your hair bounced with every fast step you took across the crosswalk. 

“Hey.” He greeted. “How was your day?” 

“Busy.” You smiled. “Yours?” 

“The same.” He said. “I think it’s almost time for our table to be ready. Let’s get you in from the cold.” 

Namjoon opened the door for you, motioning you in with a playfully exaggerated wave of his arm. You giggled at his antics, and entered the warm, dimly lit restaurant. The building was beautiful, clearly upscale, and not a casual “hang out” spot, like you had assumed. 

“Table for Kim Namjoon.” The host smiled politely, gathering a set of menus in his hands. “Right this way, please.” 

Namjoon followed behind you as the two of you made your way to your table; an intimate, private table near the back of the restaurant. Namjoon politely helped you into your seat, before sitting down across from you. You thanked the host, and then began looking over the pages of the menu. Namjoon, however, was looking at you; the woman who had occupied his mind for the last twenty-four hours. 

“I thought about what you said,” Namjoon finally spoke, causing you to glance at him. “About our lives, and if they’re messy and chaotic, we seek out the opposite.” 

“Yeah? You remember my babbling?” You chuckled. 

“I agree with your babbling.” Namjoon corrected with a dimpled smile. “I think, with my own life, I search for peaceful things to try to balance out the chaos.” 

“And are you successful?” You ask. 

Namjoon just smiled warmly, staring at you, wondering how it’s possible for a woman to be that beautiful. “I’m trying.”  He finally answered. 

Throughout the dinner, you were lost in conversation with Namjoon, and Namjoon was struck by just how easy it felt to be with you. The two of you laughed, enjoyed wine and food, and Namjoon knew with his best instincts that you were someone special. Intelligent, personable, beautiful. The ingredients of the girl of his dreams. He knew you were barely an acquaintance, and he cursed himself for always jumping the gun when it came to love. But he also knew how he felt with you, and he couldn’t ignore it. He wanted to get closer. 

“…So, yeah, I have to go to Busan soon.” You said. “I’m sure it’s lovely there, but I have to admit, I just love Seoul so much.” 

“You could come back.” Namjoon suggested, trying to play it off as a nonchalant thought. “When you’re done with work, just come back and spend some more time here.” 

“Maybe.” You smiled at the thought. “I’ll think about it.” 

“And did you think about it?” Ji-ah questioned, leaning in to hear your answer. 

“I did.” You nodded with a laugh. “But, Namjoon isn’t known for his patience, and came to visit me in Busan instead.” 

“Are you serious?” Ji-ah laughed alongside you. “He went all the way there just to see you again?” 

“He really did. I thought he was out of his mind.” You joked, making the crowd laugh too. “But, in all honesty, it was maybe the most romantic gesture I’ve ever had, and it sealed the deal for a first real date.” 

“Excuse me, Ms. Y/L/N, could you sign my book please? I’m a big fan.” 

“Of course!” You said, not looking up at the man in front of the book signing table as you took his paperback copy. “Who can I make it out to?” 

“Did you really forget me that quickly?” 

You furrowed your brows and looked up, to see Namjoon standing at your table with a goofy, shy grin on his face, and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. Your own smile grew and your eyes widened in surprise as you took him in. 

“Oh my God, seriously? What are you doing here?” You laughed. 

“I wanted you to sign my book.” Namjoon playfully answered. “I…um, I wanted to surprise you, too.” 

“You really made a trip down here, and stood in line to surprise me? It definitely worked, I’m surprised.” You giggled. “And… you have flowers?” 

“For you.” He said, his nerves showing. “For um… It’s to congratulate you, on your book and everything.” 

“Thank you.” You said softly, standing up to take the flowers. “I don’t know what to say, that’s so sweet of you.”  

“We can chat in a minute?” He suggested. “I think I’ve taken up my time in line, some women behind me are getting upset.” 

“Ok.” You giggled. “Let me sign your book though, you came all this way.” 

Namjoon watched with complete adoration in his brown eyes as you scribbled a note onto the page of the book. 

“I’ll meet you in a little bit, ok?” 

“Ok.” He nodded, and walked to the side of the bookstore to look at your note. 

“To Joonie, the sweetest man I know. Love, Y/N.”  

Namjoon grinned ear to ear like a schoolboy with a crush. He was nervous to come to Busan, worried that it was too much, and that you wouldn’t like the gesture. But with the validation little note and a soft laugh, he knew he did the right thing. He watched as you signed the books of the rest of the people in line, and listened to each of them compliment your work. You handled yourself so gracefully, he let his mind drift into places it rarely goes with anyone. Could he let you into his world? The public, the paparazzi… Could you handle it? He can only protect you from so much, with so many things out of his control. It was a long way to that point, but he thought just maybe, you would be the right one for him.  

When you were finished, you went over to him with a wave, just as you had the night of your dinner together. 

“What did you want to chat about?” You asked with a sweet tone. 

“I know this might be a lot but,” He paused, looking into your eyes as you looked up at him. “I’d really like to take you out. If you want to.” 

Your smile slowly creeped on your face, and blush painted the apples of your cheeks. 

“Yeah.” You nodded. “I’d like that.” 

“So yeah, I went out with him.” You smiled, recalling the story. “That first date turned into the two of us going out every night that I was in Busan. We would just meet at places in the city, and spend as much time together as we could.” 

“That’s so cute.” Ji-ah cooed. “I still can’t get over that he went all that way just to see you.” 

“Me either.” You laughed. “But I’m thankful every day that he did.”

“So then, how did the two of you finally become a couple?” Ji-ah asked. “You’re running around Busan together, having fun, getting to know each other… and then what?” 

“Well…” You said, blushing brightly at the memories of that night. 

“I think you’ll love this wine.” Namjoon smiled, walking over to you with a bottle in hand while you sat on the sofa. His hotel suite was more like an apartment, with a spacious living room. He asked you to stay over for the night, after you extended your business trip into a personal vacation, just to stay with Namjoon. You knew it would sound crazy to your friends back home, but being with him just felt right to you. It came so naturally. 

“Yeah?” You answered, watching him sit down next to you and pour a glass. “I really love white wines like this.” 

“I know.” He smiled. Namjoon knew so much about you now. Your favorite foods and drinks, the books you liked and the ones you didn’t. He knew details about your family, and the funny stories of your friends. He told you about himself, too, opening up in a way that usually never comes easy to him outside of his music. 

You snuggled into him with a throw blanket tossed across your legs. Namjoon rested his arm on the back of the couch, allowing you easier access to rest on his shoulder. He smiled when you did, and when you looked up at him, he gave you a soft, slow kiss on the lips. 

You had only kissed Namjoon a couple of times. Your first kiss was at the end of your first date, when he walked you back to your room, and asked permission before moving in a little closer. Ever since, he’s stolen kisses from you whenever he could. He was obsessed with your lips, and how he felt connecting them to his own. His heart raced, and every part of him was begging to get closer. 

“Joonie…” You hummed into the kiss. “I’m happy I’m here tonight.” 

“Me too.” He smiled, deepening the kiss. You gently placed your wine glass down on the coffee table in front of you, so that you could rest your hands on his strong chest, over the soft fabric of his sweatshirt. Namjoon reacted to the touch by placing his own hands on your waist, daring to hold you where your shirt raised up just enough where he could directly feel your skin. 

The kiss never broke. But you found yourself growing braver, moving in closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him position you onto his lap to straddle him. You had never felt so close to him, and both of your bodies were pleading for more…more…more…

“Y/N,” He murmured in the kiss. “I hope you know, I’m not expecting anything tonight.” 

“I know.” You said, kissing him again. “But, do you want to?” 

“I do.” He whispered onto your lips. “But only if you’re ready for it. We don’t have to rush.” 

“But I want to.” You whispered back. “I want you. So, why wait?” 

Namjoon responded with a deep breath for his nerves, followed by a passionate kiss. Deeper and stronger than the ones you’ve felt him give you before. He lifted you off the couch, allowing your legs to wrap around his waist as your arms stayed draped around his shoulders. He carried you through the hotel room, into the bedroom, where he laid you down delicately.

He stared down at you, smiling up at him from the bed. Namjoon quickly tossed his sweatshirt off and onto the floor, revealing his toned body, before helping you out of your own shirt. He swooped down and began kissing down your neck and onto the top of your breasts, his large hands cupped them through your bra. “Can I see a little more of you, honey?” 

“Please.” You answered. Namjoon wasted no time unhooking the back of your bra as you raised yourself for him to do so, and pulled the straps from your arms to show your chest. Before you had time to react, Namjoon’s lips were back on your body, licking and kissing your soft breasts, excited to have them to himself. 

“Baby, you’re so fucking beautiful.” He whispered, in between taking a perky nipple in between his lips. “So… Fucking… Beautiful…” 

“Joonie.” You whimpered. His trail of wet kisses moved down your stomach, until he reached the cotton fabric of your lounge shorts. 

“Can I?” He asked, a finger impatiently on the waistband. You nodded and hummed a ‘mhm’ in consent, lifting your hips to help him reveal just your panties. 

“You’re already so wet for me, honey.” He teased, showing his dimples. Namjoon kissed up your thighs, building anticipation with each soft, wet, slow kiss to your skin. You whined, needing him at your core. He wrapped a strong arm around each thigh, keeping you held down for him. “A little wet mark on your pretty panties, and I’ve barely done anything.” 

“Please.” You whined, and Namjoon pushed the wet fabric to the side, locking eyes with you as he slowly began applying long licks to your opening, before adding pressure and quickening movements of his tongue. You threw your head back onto the bed and let out a gasp, responding to the expert flicks of his tongue by grabbing onto the dark locks of his hair. 

“Joonie… Joonie… Please, baby…” 

He slipped a finger into your opening, breeching you for the first time, as his tongue focused on your clit. Namjoon felt your legs shake, encouraging him to add another finger, listening to the pretty noises leaving your lips. His own length was hard and pressed against the fabric of his sweatpants, aching to be released, but he ignored his own needs. This was about you; the way you gripped the sheets, chanted his name, and tasted so, incredibly sweet. The way you squeezed your eyes shut so tightly when his fingers massaged the places you needed him most, and the way you held his head in place as he gave your sensitive bud loving rolls of his tongue. Namjoon could both feel and hear your orgasm; the heaviness of your breath, the tightening of your opening, the way you dripped on his tongue. 

“That’s my girl.” He praised, nibbling your still trembling legs. He slowly pulled out his long fingers, making you shudder. 

You watched as he stood up to remove his own pants, but before he was able to, you rolled on your tummy to be eye-level with his erection, looking up at his face innocently. Your hands were already at his waistband. 

“Honey, you don’t have to.” 

“But I told you, Joonie. I want you.” You responded, slowly helping him lower his pants, letting them fall to his ankles, followed by his underwear. He kicked them to the side, watching with anticipation as your lips were level with his length. 

You started slow, just content to tease him, and to really feel the size of him. He was large, and you knew he’d fill you well. You began to kiss his sensitive, leaking head, tasting the drops on your tongue. Your lips pressed to him, working a trail down the shaft, then back up again. Namjoon’s large hand was now on your head, not forcing, but gently encouraging you to touch him. His breath was heavy, deep inhales and exhales that were audible as he grew more aroused with how you seemingly worshipped his cock. You looked up at him as you took your time working him into your mouth, your tongue caressing his most sensitive areas. 

“Babygirl… Fuck…” Namjoon’s deep voice groaned, and his hand guiding your movements. A steady back and forth, with your fingers wrapped around his balls, giving him just enough pressure to be pleasurable. “Just like that, baby… Can you go a little further for me?… Good girl.” 

Namjoon had never felt so turned on by a woman before. The way you made eye contact with him, and enthusiastically worked to please him the way that he had you, made him feel so wanted and equally aroused. His eyes flickered back and forth from your lips, watching the way his cock disappeared and reappeared, wet and throbbing, to then looking at your curves. Naked on the bed, he could see the dip of your waist, your hips and soft skin of your bottom. Every inch of you, he wanted to kiss. As he let his thoughts drift, he could feel himself go closer to the edge. 

“Wait, hold on honey.” He stopped you.“You’re gonna make me cum, baby.” 

Namjoon leaned down and gave you a quick kiss before finally meeting you on the bed. He laid down, resting his head on the pillow, and letting you straddle him and touch your lips to his. You could feel his cock pushing up against your opening, and Namjoon sighed feeling your skin on his. 

Keeping your lips close to his, but not quite touching, creating a heavy tension, you gently slid his tip into you, causing both of you to let out a quiet noise at the feeling. You sank down on him, working yourself to his length, and Namjoon held your hips, allowing you to take control and be comfortable. You felt so full, every inch of him filling you perfectly. It was as though your body was made just for him to touch, taste and fuck. 

“Fuck, Y/N…” He breathed out. You raised yourself up, and began moving on his length, switching from bouncing to grinding. Namjoon kept one hand on your hip, and place another between your thighs to touch your clit. 

“Joonie… Oh my God, Joonie… Don’t fucking stop.” You whined loudly, throwing your head back. Your hands rested on his chest to keep yourself steady, but you were coming undone again. Your pace quickened as you unraveled, your hips snapping fast as his cock reached right where you needed him most. As sensitive as you were, you both knew it wouldn’t take long for you to hit another high. 

“Cum for me, angel.” Namjoon’s deep voice dripped with arousal. “I’ve got you, baby. Just let go.” 

Your eyes shut tightly and your lips parted in pleasure, and Namjoon throbbed as you came again. He watched as your breasts bounced with every movement, and took in the feeling of your soft skin on his. As soon as you came down, he gently wrapped you in his arms, and laid you down on the bed, knowing you were almost at your limit. 

“Wanna love you just like this.” He whispered, kissing your neck as he took his place on top, resting in between your legs. His tip brushing against your entrance. “Are you too sensitive, honey? Can you take a little more?” 

“I can take it.” You whispered back, smiling as he continued painting your neck with kisses. 

“That’s my pretty girl.” He praised, sliding himself into you gently, listening for noises of discomfort. But none came, and as he bottomed out into you, he groaned and tucked his face into your neck to mark your skin and whisper in your ear. “Your pussy’s so good, babygirl. So fucking beautiful… so tight and wet just for me, aren’t you?” 

Namjoon learned that night that your neck was particularly sensitive, and you loved being kissed there. As he thrusted into you, he littered your skin with nibbles, licks, kisses and love marks. Each deep, hard hit and mark on your skin was proof that he felt something for you. Was it love? Not quite…at least, not yet. But he was falling, and he was prepared to make love to you throughout the night if that’s what it took to make you understand. You were meant to be his, that much was sure. The way you held him, kissed him, touched him, spoke to him, pleasured him was everything he’s ever wanted in a partner and a lover. 

“So close, angel.” His voice said softly, giving you a gentle kiss. 

“Cum inside me.” You whispered against his lips, deepening the kiss. “Fill me up, Joonie. Don’t fucking stop, want you to cum deep-” 

“Oh… Oh…” He groaned, his length throbbing against your walls. “Y/N…. Y/N, baby…. OH, FUCK… I… Ah…” 

You held his body close to yours as he buried his face in your neck, coming down from his high. His tanned skin was sweaty, his heart pounding and his breath heavy, as was yours. Namjoon couldn’t remember the last time, or any time, he had made love that intensely to anyone. He couldn’t remember any time he had chanted a woman’s name, or felt so desired, or was held so lovingly. It was beyond sex; it was intimacy. 

Afterwards, laying next to you, he pulled you in and the two of you drifted off to sleep as he held you in his arms, as though protective over you. As if, if he were to let go, you’d slip away. So he kept you close, and kept you safe. 

The next morning, sunlight peeked through the drawn curtains of the bedroom, illuminating everything in warmth. Namjoon had woken up before you, choosing to hold you as you slept, playing gently with your hair and occasionally caressing your bare back as you rested on his chest. Namjoon realized he could easily wake up like this, nude under the  covers with you in his arms, forever. 

After a little while, your eyelids fluttered awake. Namjoon pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, and snuggled you closer. 

“Hi.” He whispered delicately. “How do you feel?” 

“Amazing.” You replied in a hushed tone, still coming out of sleep. “Last night was… yeah.” 

“Yeah.” He smiled, his hand absentmindedly tracing your skin. “I’m really happy right now. With you.” 

“I’m happy with you too.” 

You looked up at him, still resting on his chest. Namjoon raised a hand to your face, running a thumb along the outline of your jaw, appreciating how lucky he felt in that moment. Your hair was tousled, you wore no clothes or makeup, and this was the most beautiful he had ever seen you; well rested and happy, after a night of love making. 

“Be with me.” He whispered, the words leaving his lips before he could catch them. 

“Be with you?” You repeated with sparkling eyes, making sure you heard his request correctly. 

“Yeah.” He confirmed. “I think we should be together. What do you think?” 

“Yeah.” You smiled. “I think so, too.” 

Namjoon smiled wide, showing his dimples that you’ve grown to adore so much. He sealed the deal with a soft kiss, hoping it was the first of many together. 

“…So, I spent some time at his hotel, and when we woke up the next morning, we just knew.” You explained, not giving too much information about what happened behind closed doors that night. 

“You just knew.” Ji-ah smiled, clearly giddy with the fairytale love story.

After the interview ended, and the audience had dispersed, the only person waiting for you was Namjoon. He stood in the empty auditorium by the stage where you had spoken just minutes ago, waiting to take you back home. 

“You ready?” You asked, making your way to him. 

“Yeah.” He replied. Namjoon’s eyes were sparkling and warm, filled to the brim with love for you. “Come here.” 

“What?” You smiled, before giggling as he picked you up and gently sat you down on the edge of the stage, where he could stand between your legs and look up at you. “Why’d you do that, Joonie?” You laughed. 

“I just wanted to look at you.” He said softly. You blushed under his adoring gaze. 

Namjoon had been in the audience tonight. It was your first event after the publishing of your most recent book, a essay collection on falling in love. It revealed your relationship to Namjoon to the world, after several years of dating in private. When he proposed to you one night in total surprise, during a private dinner party with all of your friends and his in attendance, that was when you both decided to go public; when you knew for sure that you both were in love for the long haul. 

Listening to you publicly describe the beginnings of your relationship, brought a flood of memories back to his mind. He wouldn’t change anything, and he was so thankful that somehow, he managed to have you for himself. He felt like he wanted to say a million things, but only one sentence seemed to come out. 

“I love you, Y/N.” 

“I love you too, Joonie.” You replied, meeting him halfway to kiss his lips. 

[hyunnielix]

skinny dipping. | h.h

Series Masterlist

'we'll be thinking about how different we are, from those scared little kids'

— hyunjin x (f) reader

— word count: 1.5k

— genre: non-idol au, artist!hyunjin, second chance romance (I know who would've thought. eventual smut (not in this chapter sorry).

— warning's: fluff, some angst, bestie!felix (and minho)

→ playlist on spotify

The minimalist architecture is what consistently drew you to the local coffee shop. Sure, other customers may have described it as sterile, lifeless and boring (as per the reviews). But the simplicity created a sense of ease within you. Tranquil blues adorned the ivory walls in decorative swirls. Each paint stroke seemed calculated and practiced. Stay Grounded — a silly name for a cafe, despite the fact most days you felt like the opposite.

A creature of habit, most of your friends would find you sitting in a small alcove, observing people, nose in a book, or phone depending on the day. Today, however, you couldn't stay. You promised Felix you would take a baking masterclass with him, much to your chagrin. Your sneakers tapped gently against the stool you occupied, a subtle rhythm and distraction.

The coffee shop hummed with life. A barista, dressed in a grey apron stood behind the counter, skilfully crafting drinks. Steam rose from the espresso machine and the aroma of freshly ground caramel beans filled the air. The menu, black block text on a white background, exuded an air of prestige. Maybe it was snobby. You didn't care.

Nearby, a group of friends occupied a corner booth, their laughter filling the space. Your gaze travelled to the left. A couple sat by the window, engaged in quiet conversation while their mugs rested on a wooden table.

Occasionally, you glanced toward the counter, anticipating the arrival of your coffee. Your phone buzzed, directing your attention to the device.

Lixie 🩵: remember class today. you promised! <3 I'll go easy on you. first timer and all.

An amused smile crawled onto your face, and you scoffed, typing up the response.

Y/N: I have a few tricks up my sleeve Lix. Don't be surprised if I beat you!

Lixie 🩵: didn't know this was a competition :(

Y/N: It is now :)

"The iced long black with an extra shot!" The barista's voice rung through the space. It couldn't be. The order. You knew it off by heart, as familiar as the back of your palm.

"Coffee for Hyunjin!"

You gaze snapped up, ignoring the buzz of your phone. Your face paled. It couldn't be him. Hyunjin lived in Paris. His paintings adorned the walls of reputable galleries, and his exhibits were a media sensation, captivating critics and the public alike. Newspapers and art magazines clamoured to cover every detail. The headlines screamed of a young, rising artist, whose work spoke to the masses. Capturing intimate moments and the simplicity of life in a delicate way. You would know, you owned a few of his pieces yourself.

He stood at the counter, his movements smooth and effortless while he reached for his takeaway coffee. His previous golden locks no longer framed his face, instead replaced by a harsh onyx colour. His sharp jawline and high cheekbones reflected a quiet elegance, while his eyes, deep and almond-shaped, sparkled with a hint of thoughtfulness. He wore a fitted beige coat which draped gracefully over his shoulders. He looked ethereal. His slender fingers wrapped around the iced drink, and he gave a soft, polite smile to the barista, lips curving in such a way that suggested quiet confidence. With a slight tilt of his head, he nodded a thank you, his gaze drifting while he turned around, landing directly on you.

You think you imagined the way his expression softened. Although, he froze, his hesitation painfully visible. You swallowed, offering a hint of a smile and a slight wave of your hand. What's the worst thing that could happen? ignore you?

He shoved his hand into the pocket of his baggy jeans and walked over, towering above you. His tongue poked out and he sipped the coffee before bending down to your height. "Hi."

"Hi," You squeaked out. "I uh- wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Yeah. It was sort of spontaneous. Homesickness kind of thing."

"Oh. When did you get back? from Paris. I mean."

"This morning actually. I can't stand airport coffee, so this is the first place I thought of." He gazed around, then brought his eyes back to you. "It hasn't changed. It's kind of comforting in a way. Something familiar."

"Yeah..." You fidgeted with your phone and ignored his stare, which lingered far too long on your face. Had your makeup smudged or something?

Hyunjin cleared his throat. "How's Felix?"

"He's good. I actually have a baking class with him in an hour."

"You bake now?" He tilted his head, a gesture so endearing it reminded you of a curious puppy, and then came the sound—a soft laugh that spilled from his lips, light and unrestrained.

You froze, the corners of your mouth tugging down. It had been far too long since you’d heard that laugh, warm and melodic.

Before you could respond, your attention snagged on a girl behind him. She wore a maroon mini dress that clung to her like a second skin, confidence radiating with each step. As she drew closer, her focus locked onto Hyunjin. Although, his remained fixed on you, his eyes steady, waiting for your answer, completely unaware.

She reached forward, tapping on Hyunjin's shoulder. "Oh my god! It is you! Jiniret."

"Oh... yeah, that's uhh me." A faint blush tinted his cheeks, so subtle it might have gone unnoticed by anyone else. But you weren’t just anyone—you knew him better than most.

The girl rocked on her kitten heels, pleading with an unmatched intensity. "Can I please get a photo with you?"                                     

"I'd love to but me and my—' He paused, his eyes darting to yours briefly, "friend. my friend have some business to attend to."

You chewed on your bottom lip— an anxious habit you’d picked up during high school. For a split second you swore his gaze dipped to them and back to your eyes.

"Oh my gosh I so get it. I'm sorry again.” The girl gripped one of his hands in hers, bowed, and then scurried away.

The hum of voices and clatter of cups grew as more people filtered in— your least favourite time— rush hour. "Coffee for Y/N!"

You rose abruptly from the stool, eager to leave the establishment and memories attached to it. With him.

"I guess that's me then." You flashed him a tight-lipped smile and approached the counter. Slender fingers wrapped around your wrist, halting your movement. You glanced over your shoulder. The anguish etched across Hyunjin’s face held a strange sort of tenderness.                                                                                                    

He let go, instead running his fingers through his onyx hair. "We should do this again sometime. Like old times.”

"Hyune, do you really think that's a good idea." You shifted your weight, hip jutting out as your brows knitted together. The answer couldn’t have been more obvious.

"We can go to that restaurant. The one you like—"

"You, the Jiniret, want to go to that silly little restaurant with me?" you quipped, crossing your arms over your chest. A smirk tugged at your lips, though your heart thudded a little harder seeing the faint dimple appear in his cheek when he grinned.  

"I’m hurt that you think I’m that pretentious." He pressed his hand against his chest, mouth agape in mock hurt.

Your eyes flicked to the floor, then back to his, catching how he shifted on his feet—just a small move, like he was still trying to find his footing. “I was worried Paris was getting to your head,” you teased, the words carrying a sharp edge.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you crackled, layered with old familiarity and something newer, something fragile. You caught the way his jaw tightened, just slightly, like he wanted to say something but hadn’t decided how.           

 "Quite the opposite, actually," he murmured, his voice barely cutting through the din.

You glanced at your phone. "I have to go. I'm going to be late for my baking class."

"I'll text you."

"I don’t have your number anymore," you admitted, your voice softer than you intended.

His brows furrowed and an emotion you couldn't quite decipher flashed behind his eyes. Without hesitation, he extended his hand, palm up, an unspoken request. The motion felt calm but firm, and something about it made your breath hitch.

You placed the device in his outstretched hand, his fingers brushed yours briefly and he began typing.

“Coffee for Y/N!” The barista’s call cut through the buzz of the coffee shop, pulling your attention away from him. Right your drink. You glanced toward the counter, spotting your drink waiting in its cardboard sleeve, a slight sheen of condensation on the plastic lid.

He reached out with his palm open. “Here,” he said, handing back your phone. His lips curved into a small smirk, and he added with a wink, “Make sure to keep me a pastry.”

You rolled your eyes, the scoff escaping before you could stop it. Turning on your heel, you made your way to the counter. Your shoes clicked softly against the polished floor as you retrieved the drink—melted now. A small frown tugged at your lips as you adjusted the lid, but you didn’t look back at him, even as you felt his gaze following you.

[leibal]

I Too Am is an exhibition presenting Bennet Schlesinger’s debuting at Galerie Timonier. At first glance, a simple bamboo and paper light fixture might seem an unlikely bridge between Italian poetry and American craft traditions. Yet in Bennet Schlesinger’s debut New York exhibition “I Too Am,” this luminous form becomes a meditation on creative sanctuary, sparked by Pier Paolo Pasolini’s contemplation of personal space and translated through the material vocabulary of contemporary design.

[bothsweetandsalty]

I’m so obsessed with the concept of cute men’s stomachs growling in museums.

Just imagine.. he’s standing in the middle of an art exhibit, examining minimalist paintings, the entire room is dead quiet, then suddenly his stomach aches and begs, letting out a loud, deep growl.. his face heating up from embarrassment as he desperately tries to play it cool and not turn around to see how many people are looking at him.. everyone in that room definitely heard it..

perhaps skipping lunch before coming here wasn’t such a good idea was it?~

[freshdesignflow]

Sabine Marcelis for Side Gallery.

singular + materiality

[dabisbratz]

B♡Y NEXT DOOR — kuroo tetsuro x male reader

w.c: 1.6k

WARNING: mentions of blowjobs, deepthroating, free-use, creampies, manhandling, fantasizing, kuroo is kinda a perv!, shy reader, college au.

a/n: msorry this is so short!! the request was kinda vague so i tried to put together what i could! it’s mainly kuroo’s thoughts for the nsfw part, but i think it’s still okay!

Dorm life is not your forté. Sure, you haven’t experienced it yet, but you can just tell it’s going to lead to your forthcoming demise. Exhibit A, it’s two in the morning and you’re only just now moving in after orientation. It’s late, the sun had set hours ago and it was time for the moon to occupy the sky. It’s your saving grace from the darkness of the hall, yellow light illuminating off the walls from just one small lamp by the communal mailboxes. You didn’t expect anyone to be awake, especially since you were particularly tired yourself. Your aching body pops with tension as you stretch your arms, lifting them above your head as your shirt rides up and exposes just a hint of your lower abdomen. Just a few more boxes to go.

You’re ready to curl up in bed, away from any prying eyes and fellow students. Starting during the second semester wasn’t a very smart move, everyone knew each other already, and you’d have ten times more issues trying to make friends when groups were already established. Who knew the type of people you’d be sharing a place with. You sigh, a quiet huff through protruding cheeks, and begin dragging a particularly heavy box inside your room.

“Hey! Be careful,” There’s a gruff voice behind you, raspy from either overuse or lack thereof, but fried from sleep nonetheless. You freeze, body stiffening as your back collides with the person behind you, much more solid than you’d originally thought they’d be. But you push through it, already embarrassed and body ablaze from the rocky first meeting. They let you step through, covering their ears dramatically at the sound of heavy cardboard scraping against the hardwood flooring. “What’s your deal?!”

Ah. It’s a man behind you, no older than you, who stands tall with long, lean limbs. His hair is dark, barely even brown, swooped up with what you assume is copious amounts of gel, save for a few tufts of hair that rest along his right eye. In the dark lighting you can’t exactly make out all his features, but you can tell his facial structure is nice, with the way the moonlight peeking through the blinds cups his cheeks.

His footsteps pound against the floor as he turns to walk around you and the box, hunched over to pick it up himself— save the headache. Apologies bubble in your throat, threatening to spill off your tongue, but despite his words he doesn’t seem all that bothered. Your arms fall to your sides, head bowed as he carries the box somewhere with the others. Should you introduce yourself?

“Sorry…” You start, voice quiet and reserved. You can’t tell if he heard you, but you continue anyway, fighting the urge to find the nearest closed off room and hide. “I didn’t… They said no one would be here today.”

You can hardly see him, just a silhouette of a man, but it makes a movement as if he’s scratching his chin. Maybe you said something wrong.

“Oh,” Is all he says, and you can imagine his lips curling into a small ‘o’ along with it. He really should listen more. In fact, the front door features a calendar with this very day circled, written in messy handwriting ‘roommate move-in.’ “Kenma said something about that. I’m Kuroo, just housesitting!”

So he��s..not your roommate, then? There’s a beat of silence before he flickers on the lights, bright and harsh against your unadjusted survey. Your face is distorted cutely, eyes squinting and eyebrows furrowed as you blink around the room, taking in its appearance. It’s minimalistic, not much besides two beds, video game consoles, and freshly organized wires. You assume the other door by the right of the room leads to the bathroom. You look back at the man, finally adjusted, with hesitance.

He’s staring at you, hazel upturned eyes narrowed like a cat. A shiver runs down your spine, ice cold and painfully obvious as you nervously shift your weight from one foot to the other, shrinking under his gaze. He seems to soften at that, manually widening his eyes so he appears less intimidating. Despite it all, though, he’s cute. With a strong jaw and straight eyelashes, a soft yet handsome and defined face. It’s only then you notice his clothing— or, lack thereof. His boxers are striped, black and red, and that’s about it. You shuffle awkwardly, biting your tongue.

“Well! This place is gonna be real quiet,” He jokes to himself, lips curling upward as he tears his gaze away from your handsome face. Between you and Kenma, he’s sure there won’t be much conversation. You’re not exactly blunt, though. Maybe a ball of nervousness, but not blunt, from what he can see.“You’re a lot cuter than I thought.”

“You too.” Your response is immediate, but the wide eyed expression on your face makes him think you didn’t actually mean to say it. You’re really soft spoken, too. If anything else was going on he surely would’ve missed it. Kuroo feels himself smile.

“Oya? Did you think I was ugly?” He strikes a childish pose, resting his face in his palms as he bats his long eyelashes in your direction. He relishes the sound of your laughter, just as quiet as your voice. He wonders how loud you can get.

He watches you shake your head in response, a genuine smile gracing your face as you pick up the last of your things— blankets and pillows—and carry them over to your assigned bed. His eyes never leave you, glued to your face as you place sheets on your bed and fluff your pillows. You look so easy to move, he could just flip you over and do it for you, hold onto your waist and lift you up like you’re a feather. Pretty, too.

Kuroo clears his throat, dropping his arms to discreetly cover his erection. At this rate he’ll have to tuck his dick in his waistband.

He imagines pushing you down onto your knees, pretty mouth open wide enough for him to rest his cock on your pink tongue, loud slaps echoing through the room. The wet squelch of his precum frothing on your tongue, the head of his cock sliding in and out of your mouth at random moments, just so he can hear you gag and choke on his cock.

He imagines a particularly sharp thrust down your throat, watching it bulge and contract around his dick until you can’t breathe. But even then, you’d hold onto the back of his thighs, try to push him deeper while you cry over not being able to take him deeper.

He imagines burying your face in his pubes, watching your teary eyes roll back when he finally fits himself down your throat, cock twitching as your ruined face presses against his hip. That would be enough for him, your pretty, fucked-out face looking back up at him as your throat makes humiliating noises around his shaft.

He imagines cumming down your throat, guiding himself out when it’s apparent you might black out, watching you catch your breath with loud, rushed pants. He’d cup your face, tapping it gently so you look up at him, forcing you to follow his slow breaths, chest expanding with ease. He’d call you his good boy, slapping his dick against your cheek.

He imagines lifting you up by the soft skin of your throat, watching you stumble over your own feet and lean into him for stability. Your eyes would be glassy, glazed over as you beg him for something, anything. Any type of release, any touch to your pretty body. You’d beg so pretty, soft voice suddenly loud and high pitched as you bounce where you stand, whining out, “Ple—ase, Tets!”

He imagines slutting you out, turning you into a shameless whore while he slides back into you for the third time that day. He wonders if you’d hide your face, closing your legs and whining about the intrusion just to have them parted again, Kuroo’s much stronger, bigger hands digging into the plush of your thighs to inspect your sopping hole. That just wouldn’t do, he’d pull your hands away from your face, holding your jaw between his fingers so you can watch his cock sink into you again and again, cum cascading down your thighs and dripping onto the floor.

He imagines making you beg for it, your entire body tense as he fucks into you, holds you open with his hands to watch his cock get swallowed by your velvety walls. You’re so shy, so quiet and timid. So he imagines your squeals, your mind too far gone after hitting your sweet spots over and over and over. You’d be his sexdoll, pliant and moldable in his hands as he bounces you on and off his cock, even feeding his leaking cum back to you. He wants to smear it over your lips and have you wear it like lipgloss—

Your mattress squeaks, loud enough to snap the business major out of his thoughts, and he finds you shyly sitting crisscross on your bed. Your head is tilted, sweet like a puppy as you blink up at him, voice barely above a whisper.

“Uhm, Kuroo…? Are you okay?”

“Right, right!” Kuroo nods, glad the patch of precum pooling in his boxers is covered by the deep shade of fabric. He bounces on his heels, stiffly shuffling further toward the bathroom as he speaks. “There’s a place opening up on campus that sells really good fish. We should go sometime! Get to know each other, right?”

[aestradairio]

. the Aestra Art House Gallery Exhibition 𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི

— Nestled in the heart of a bustling city, a new art gallery has opened its doors, inviting art enthusiasts to experience a unique and inspiring event. Fully glamed, you decided to attend this event as it seemed very important after you received the invitation.

As you approach the gallery, you’re welcomed by an elegant facade, its modern architecture blending seamlessly with the urban surroundings. The large windows offer glimpses of the art inside, drawing you in with their promise of discovery. Stepping through the grand entrance, you find yourself in a serene and minimalist lobby. The atmosphere is calm and inviting, with light colors and tasteful decor creating a sense of tranquility.

Standing near the entrance is an elegant lady, dressed in a chic, tailored outfit that exudes both sophistication and warmth. Her attire is a perfect blend of classic and modern, with a flowing silk blouse paired with a sleek pencil skirt, complemented by tasteful jewelry that adds a touch of sparkle without being overpowering. Her posture is poised, and she carries herself with a grace that is both welcoming and refined.

With a genuine smile, she steps forward to greet you. Her voice is warm and melodic, instantly putting you at ease.

"Welcome to our humble Gallery." she says, her eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. "We're delighted to have you here. My name is Aestra , and I'll be your guide today."

She extends her hand for a light, friendly handshake, her grip firm yet gentle. As she leads you into the main gallery, she gestures gracefully to the various sections.

"We have a wonderful collection of art from talented artists around the world. Each room has a unique theme designed to inspire your creativity and imagination. If you have any questions or need any assistance, please don't hesitate to ask me."

Her demeanor is both professional and approachable, making you feel not just a visitor but a valued guest. Throughout your tour, she provides insightful commentary on the artworks, her passion for art evident in every word. Her knowledge is extensive, yet she shares it in a way that is engaging and accessible, ensuring you feel connected to the art and the stories behind each piece.

As you move through the gallery, Aestra checks in with you periodically, offering additional information and answering any questions you might have. Her presence is a perfect balance of attentive and unobtrusive, allowing you to enjoy the exhibition at your own pace.

— Welcome to the Aestra Art Exhibition. This exhibition features a curated collection of artworks, each showcased in thoughtfully designed rooms that offer a different theme, perfect for sparking creativity and helping you build your own artwork.

The exhibition is divided into six distinct rooms, each with a unique theme designed to inspire your creativity and help you craft beautiful artwork. Each room in the gallery is a portal to a different world, that transports you between dimensions and allows you to see the beauty of other worlds realms.

1.Dreamy Pastels Room 2.Cozy Cottage Room

3.Cosmic Wonders Room 4.Nostalgia Nook Room

5.Shades of Simplicity Room 6.Noble Narratives Room

୭ ˚. You are required to do your own artwork inspired by a well chosen room that the host of the exhibition will give you @aestraevents . all you have to do is send them a letter and ask them to give you a distinct room.

୭ ˚. Show your support by liking and reblogging this event post. Let your friends know about this magical experience! Spread the word by mentioning three of your closest friends in your reblog. Share the creativity and inspiration with those who matter most and secure your place in this artistic adventure by commenting 'joining' in the comments section below.

୭ ˚. Immerse yourself in the themes of our exhibition and craft your unique artwork. Be sure to tag us and use the hashtag #. ✿ ae–art house event⠀ ⠀❀𓊇⠀ .⠀ , so we can admire your creation.

Originality is Key: Please ensure your artwork is a reflection of your own creativity. Any copied artworks will lead to disqualification.

We can't wait to see your beautiful artworks and share in this artistic celebration with you!

Warm regards,

—The Lady Aestra.

my honored list⁚ @p-oisn @n-americano @neapolitism @gumishio @hcvenue @muruffin @sugarish @sukisng @obrigados @orientarla @iyuliae @iyunjin @c-heriis @i6gyu @ieailu @ritualdenoche @voladitos @vapeofdolls @versocanibal @nulliaely @winterfea @fre-sitas @flordoipe @eternacrueldad @snowithv @chaer-yeons @coralfragil @chaetopia @chaewebs @lacediore @graveroom @xooee @pommecita @zahraism @taroism @awwriri @rkkuri .

my note⁚ thanks guys for 100+ followers finally I m hosting my first event I worked hard on this for the last two weeks to host it on my first month anniversary I wish you all appreciate it🫶🏻❕