#bunning masterpost | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

clockwayswrites · 8 months

Text

Like Betta Fish Do- Final Part

WC: 3359, Masterpost

“The response to the article has been great— better even than we had predicted,” Tim informed the various family members as he joined them at the breakfast table, tablet in hand.

Jason glanced up from his porridge to look his little brother over. The eye bags were a little dark, but not to the point of concerning yet, at least not on Tim. Still… “You weren’t up all night running numbers, were you?”

“I slept, I just woke up early.” Tim said defensively. “Besides, it’s best to get data like this when it’s new. It allows me to compare the first reaction to the long term response and see if there are any shifts.”

“Good data gathering is important,” Jazz agreed, “but so is taking care of yourself.”

She set the bowl of porridge that she had just finished adding toppings to in front of Tim and blatantly stuck a spoon in his hand. Tim blinked down at the food for a moment before shrugging and taking a bite. Cass, smiling in amusement, handed Jazz a fresh bowl.

“Best news is,” Tim continued after he had swallowed, “that everyone thinks Danny is, and I quote, a ‘Beautiful Cinnamon Roll Too Good For This World, Too Pure’. I mean, that’s not really a new opinion, but the new article really cemented it.”

“I don’t know how to take that,” Danny said after a pause.

“I mean, I’d just be glad to not be a poor little meow meow,” Duke said as he leaned over to look at Tim’s screen.

“The big change,” Tim continued and tilted his screen for Duke to see better, “is that public opinion of Jason has recovered. It was always solid in Gotham, we get it here, but outside of Gotham people were really having some issues with how quickly Jason pressed the button. Danny going on record to say that he asked Jason to press it— that he knew that’s what he was saying— has made a real difference.”

That was good news, but something about the way that Tim was presenting it made Jason tense and he had to purposefully relax his grip around his spoon. “What’s the bad news?”

Tim glanced over at Jason for a moment before looking back down at his tablet. The way he chewed on his lip pretty much assured there was bad news.

“Tim,” Jason pleaded. He got they were all trying to protect them while Danny was still recovering, but he needed to know, “just tell me. I’d rather hear it here from you than out there on the street.”

“There’s a small, and I mean really small, group that claims we made Danny say those things,” Tim explained with a grimace. “It got dug up that Danny’s on a Wayne Inventors’ Scholarship. They’re saying that we threatened to pull the scholarship if he didn’t clear Jason.”

Maybe it was best just to set the spoon down before he bent it in half.

“We don’t publish those names,” Bruce commented, a heavy frown in place as he joined the breakfast table, own tablet in hand.

Tim nodded. “I know.”

“I’ll look into who at the school may have leaked that information.”

“I mean, it could have just been a classmate?” Danny pointed out. “It’s not like I’ve gone around shouting it to the heavens or anything, but, like, I haven’t kept it a secret how I ended up suddenly mid degree in the program.”

“It could have been,” Bruce acquiesced, “but it still bears looking into. Even if nothing comes of it, reminding the school of how they’re bound by FERPA hardly hurts, not with you returning to classes in a week.”

“Yeah that’s going to be… yeah,” Danny said with a sigh.

Jason leaned over to wrap his arm around Danny’s shoulder and brush a kiss against his temple.

“I’ve got to leave in a few days too,” Jazz said apologetically.

Danny nodded and leaned further into Jason. “You’ll be careful?”

“I will.”

“She will also have assistance in that matter,” Alfred said. The clink of the fresh plate of hot cross buns was a firm period on his declaration.

“That’s a sweet thought,” Jazz managed after a moment, “but I do live in a different state.”

“That is hardly an issue, Miss Jasmine. Master Richard will accompany you for the first week to simply make sure that everything is both secure and calm. When he is certain you will be well, he can make his way back easily enough,” Alfred explained. When Jazz opened her mouth to protest, Alfred held up a staying hand. “Miss Jasmine, I assure you it is not a hardship. You are family now and we very much look after our family. It would do all of us well to know that you are safe and sound.”

“Yes, family now,” Cass agreed as she made a grabbing motion at the plate until Tim passed her one of the buns.

“I, well…” A faint blush spread across Jazz’s cheeks. “I guess if it wouldn’t be a problem? And if you’re okay sleeping on the couch, Dick? We’ve only got one actual bedroom in the place, we use the other as an office for us both.”

“Hey, a couch isn’t the worst place I’ve slept by a long run,” Dick chirped. “But if you’re feeling guilty, I’ll taking getting to pick the tunes on the drive.”

“Don’t do it,” Jason said, an attempt to save Jazz that hell. “Seriously, not worth giving him that power. His music tastes are atrocious.”

Dick pouted. “They’re fabulous.”

“No, Jason’s right on this one,” Tim said.

“If Drake is agreeing with Todd, I am afraid that one has to accept there is some truth in the statement,” Damian interjected.

“Baby bat, no,” Dick whined.

From the look he aimed Dick, Damian was unmoved by the plea. “While you have a great many skills, Grayson—”

“Thank you.”

“—your taste in music, fashion, and other matters of culture is not one of those skills.”

“I’m wounded. You wounded me Damian, my baby bat, so cruel… so callous,” Dick said as he basically melted down into his chair.

“Keep up such antics and you will have a true wound to worry about, Grayson,” Damian said with a sniff.

Jason chuckled. “Ah, it’s not breakfast at the Manor without a threat of violence.”

Duke leaned around Tim to look at Jazz. “You still have time to run, Jazz, you don’t have to be part of this family. You can still get out.”

“Hum, I don’t know. Give me a Creep Stick—”

Multiple people looked at Danny and mouthed ‘creep stick?’.

“—and I think I can manage. Besides, none of the food has come back to life yet so it’s a better breakfast than I had most of my childhood.”

In the following silence, Bruce very carefully set his tablet down and folded his hands on top of it. “Food that came back to life?”

“Lab safety was just sort of an ignored suggestion in our childhood home,” Danny said.

“They kept samples in the fridge,” Jazz continued. “It sometimes had… unexpected results.”

“I don’t know, I think after the tenth time the hotdogs come ‘alive’ it’s an expected result,” Danny argued dryly.

“Good heavens,” Alfred declared softly. “And… the Dr. Fentons did nothing?”

Danny just shrugged. “I ate at school or out with my friends a lot.”

“No wonder you’re so pint sized,” Dick cooed.

“Hey!”

“You are, fish. Just a little guppy,” Jason teased. When Danny grumbled, Jason only pulled him closer.

“It really was just the way things were,” Jazz said, apparently still trying to soothe the table. “We know it’s not normal now, but that was just life at the time. It almost made more sense when there were actual ghosts around haunting Amity Park— and I don’t just mean Danny.”

“Boo.”

“Oh, yeah! You still haven’t shown us your ghost form,” Steph pointed out.

“But only if you’re up for it, dude, like… physically and emotionally,” Duke cut in quickly. “You don’t have to show us if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. I mean, it was strange showing Jason the first time— showing someone who knew me as Danny first,” Danny said, “but, like, there are times when I want to be in that form. I even get restless if I go too long without changing over.”

“Or sometimes he just needs something off the top shel-oof,” Jason winced as Danny elbowed him hard. “Hey, I’m just speaking the truth here.”

“You’re the one who used me instead of a step stool to hang cameras,” Danny said with a perfectly sweet smile. “But anyways, yeah, it’s no issue to show you all! You might want to cover your eyes though, it’s a bit bright.”

“Bright?” Dick asked, right as Danny transformed.

It served him right if he was left blinking away spots.

“Oh wow, your lights are totally different like this,” Duke said, leaning forward to peer at Danny.

Danny peered back. “Lights?”

“Oh, sorry, I’m a meta, I see… like, after images of stuff, kinda You’re all sorts of wild like this,” Duke said, waving a hand at Danny.

“And inverted,” Tim pointed out.

“Oh, yeah, it seems to be a thing with halfas? Like, I was wearing a white with black hazmat suit when I died and the inverted version was what my ghost form was in for ages. I’ve learned to make changes to it since, but it’s easier to stay close to that original form.”

“Easier, how?” Bruce asked. He was clearly brimming with questions now that Danny was talking about ghostly matters, but he was obviously trying not to ask everything at once.

Tim didn’t seem much better in his eagerness.

“Oh, hum, there’s this resistance? Think of it like trying to pull apart two things that have been glued together. If you have the right solvent or heat or tools you can do it, but you have to have that and you still risk damage if you don’t go carefully. So small changes are easier. Also what um, role I’m in changes things.”

“Fascinating,” Bruce murmured.

“Wait, hold up,” Dick interrupted before Bruce could ask a follow up. “If you’re a halfa and Jason is a halfa, does this mean that Jason has a ghost form too?”

Jason had to resist pushing his chair back as all eyes spun to him. Sure this was his family, but that single minded Bat focus was still intimidating.

Cass tilted her head. “Like Duke said, only if up for it.”

“It’s just, I haven’t… transformed yet,” Jason said. He tried for a casual shrug and felt like he had missed by a mile. “We had to wait for my core and everything to form first.”

“But you could transform now?” Tim asked curiously.

Jason glanced at Danny.

“I think you could,” Danny said. He was floating a little above his chair now. Casually, as if it was odd, he crossed his legs and leaned forward onto them. “Your core is strong. You aren’t having the power issues I did, but you aren’t trying to go through this when a teen either. Question mostly is if you’re ready to try.”

Did he want to try?

Jason didn’t know. Part of him wanted to. Part of him wanted to be able to experience this aspect of being that Danny experienced— to experience it with Danny. Another part of Jason was still afraid. It still felt like the final period on everything that had happened with the Joker all of those years ago.

But maybe it was time to put that period on it.

Maybe it was time to let go.

Maybe it was time to live.

“I’d… I’d like to try.” At least if the worst happened he’d have his family here with him. One of them would be able to talk him down from a panic if he came back as Robin.

“After breakfast, Master Jason,” Alfred said firmly.

“Yes Alfie.”

“So… how does this work?” Dick asked.

They were gathered in the gym— originally a room converted for Dick’s gymnastics and since expanded to have various workout gear— on the bright blue mats. Danny was still in his ghost form and drifted in a lazy circle around the group. Jason and Jazz paid him no mind, but Duke and Steph kept glancing at the ghost.

“Well, I mean, when I was a teen I had to say a catchphrase and everything, but I was a lot more in flux at that age so it was all harder. Now it’s much more like just… taking a breath and jumping.”

“Yeah, fish, I’m going to need you to be a little more specific than that,” Jason drawled, his attitude a thin veil over his nerves.

Danny stopped, hovered in front of Jason, and gave him a chaste kiss. “You’ll be okay,” he whispered.

Jason gave a terse little nod.

“Really,” Danny continued, “you’ll be okay. Close your eyes and take a few deep breaths.”

Breathing slowly through his nose, Jason focused on the feeling of Danny’s cold fingers against his cheeks.

“Now feel for your core. Think of what we saw with Frostbite— the fire, the ash, the movement of it. The light of it. Think about how warm it is there under your sternum. Even in this form, it’s part of you.”

Jason let out a breath slowly, feeling his chest fall with it. He focused on that warmth that nestled itself just under skin and bone. He thought about how it had looked in his hands, destructive but full of the promise of life.

“Keep a focus on your core, but think about how it feels to fly through the air as Red Hood. Think about that moment when you’re at the height of a swing and gravity doesn’t seem to matter. Now let go of all of that and fall. Your core will catch you. I’ll catch you.”

Jason gasped. His knees went out under him. He couldn’t breathe.

No…

He didn’t need to breathe. There simply wasn’t that demand on his body. Everything was just… calm. Static. Still. And he felt so warm. He hadn’t been this warm since before he had died only to wake up cold and alone in his own grave.

Jason looked down at his own hands. They were a dark ashen grey and when he flexed them, soot flaked off and scattered. The bat symbol— his bat symbol— glowed molten orange on his chest. He wasn’t in his Robin costume.

His knees felt weak for a second time, but he still didn’t fall. He looked up into Danny’s fanged grin. The other was holding him up by the elbows. Danny had caught him, just like he promised.

Danny's slow grin only uncurled further. “Hey there, hot stuff.”

Jason let his head fall back as he groaned at the joke.

“Nope, you’ve gotta deal with my puns because wow you really took the whole lava core thing to heart, didn’t you?” Danny said, looking Jason over. “Not that you aren’t totally rocking the look.”

“Really?” Jason asked. It was odd to hear his own voice come out modified from the black mask, deep but without the mechanical edge his Red Hood mask did. Steam escaped from the mask at the filters, swirling up into the still air.

“Payback for months of fish jokes,” Danny said and met the glowing red eyes without an ounce of shame. He drew his hands back along Jason’s arms from where he was holding onto his elbows. Jason could feel cold run along his arms and he held back a shiver. “You good to stand?”

Jason nodded. He felt fine now, weird, but fine. “Yeah, I am. Just… this is a lot different.”

“I know,” Danny said easily and a little sadly. He squeezed Jason’s wrists before letting go and drifting back. Without warning, he plunged his hand into his chest to find his Tucker™ phone.

“What the fuck,” Steph whispered from the sidelines.

“Hey, it’s an easy way not to lose things,” Danny said, “and you need a special phone to be able to handle stuff in the ghost zone so I just keep it on me.”

“In you.”

“Same diff,” Danny said with a shrug. He floated back enough to get all of Jason in the frame and snap a photo.

Jason took the phone carefully as it was passed over to him. That was him. He didn’t know what to think of it all yet, but that was him— as much him as Jason or Red Hood were him. This form certainly drew from his current Red Hood uniform, there was no question of that, not with the face mask and hood, but the coat was longer. The end of the coat ended mid thigh in drips and drops of bright red lava that turned to rick black ash and drifted away. The drips gave a clue to the make up of the rest of the coat, an oddly, roughly iridescent black that glowed bright on edges and seems. Inside the hood was almost blindingly bright.

“It’s definitely a look,” Tim said.

“I like it,” Steph interrupted. “You’re going to make the bad guys shit themselves.”

“Miss Stephenie,” Alfred sighed.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it!” Tim grumbled. “I guess I just didn’t expect it to be so… otherworldly after Danny’s form.”

Danny shrugged and tucked himself into Jason’s side. The coat sizzled where Danny touched it. “I’m really the odd ghost out. Most of them are much more dramatic and themed to their obsession or core.”

“I think it is impractical. There will be no ambushing anyone when you glow in such a manner,” Damian sniffed.

“Jason’s ghost form isn’t for taking on criminals, Damian,” Bruce said. Jason knew B was thinking it through though from the slightly constipated look on his face.

“I guess with that coat you could totally say that look is dripping,” Duke said and then reached over to high five Dick as Cass signed ‘fire’ dramatically.

“This is your fault,” Jason let Danny know, “the puns.”

“They were like this when I got here,” Danny said, repentantly. “Come on though, open up.”

“Open up?”

“Your mask,” Danny said, tapping on the hard black surface. “I bet you can retract it. Just think about it pulling back and tucking away.”

Jason frowned under the mask but Danny was right before, so he took a breath and tried to picture the mask collapsing on itself and pulling back behind his neck.

The air of the room felt cold on his face.

“Oh, wow, your hair’s inverted,” Dick said, “just like Danny thought it would be. That’s almost more wild than the outfit.”

Jason reached up self consciously to tug at what must now be a black lock only for Danny to catch his hand and kiss it lightly.

“There you are. It took me a long time, but I finally found you,” Danny said.

“Found me?”

Danny gave a little hum. “Yep. Found that ghost whose haunt I crashed into all that time ago. Who would have thought I’d go from being worried about how angry your haunt felt to actually getting to know you like this— getting to know all of you. Getting to see you.”

Danny drifted up just a little more, just enough to press their lips together into a kiss. Icy cold met magma hot and Jason closed his eyes to sounds of cat calls and ‘steamy’. His siblings might be damn annoying, but they weren’t wrong, the kiss was literally steaming.

“Careful or you’ll be smoked salmon before you know it, fish.”

“I don’t know, I think I’d put up with it for you. You know why? Because I lava you,” Danny said with a cackle of laughter.

Jason rolled his eyes, but pulled Danny into another kiss. He had better get used to the puns, he supposed, but somehow he thought he would manage. He thought he would manage because he was no longer just a dead boy, because he had his family around him supporting him, because he also loved Danny. They had not only their afterlives, but their whole lives ahead of them.

And Jason… Jason was determined to live.

---

AN: And here we are... done! I hope you all enjoyed every moment of this fish's adventure, the love he found, and the life he helped give back! It was a journey for sure, and it took me longer than I expected, but I am ever so grateful for you all being along for it! I'll update ao3 tomorrow!

Stay delightful, darlings!

#the end #dp x dc #dead on main #like betta fish do

632 notes · View notes

simvanie · 1 year

Text

Claw Clip Hairstyles Masterpost

Remember that claw clip hairstyle that came with the laundry day stuff pack? Yeah, I fell into a little claw clip hair rabbit hole and ended up finding many similar ones because I needed some low effort hairstyles for the next generation of my legacy. I thought it might be useful to create a masterpost right away since I was sorting them out. So if you need a claw clip hairstyle, seek no further because this list just might contain the ones that you need!

*Edit 7/28/23: I've added a few more hairstyles I found.

Jamie hair | Matilda hair | Jazmine hair

Borboleta hair | Brie hair | Hadid hairstyle

Signy hair | Lia hair V1 | Lia hair V2

Hudson hair V2 | Hudson hair V1 | Sally hair

Trinity bun | Clawupado hair | Valentina hair

Ambrosia hair | Lucy hair | Gia hair

Matilda hairstyle V1 | Matilda hairstyle V2 | Christie hair

Matilda hairstyle V1 | Matilda hairstyle V2 | Matilda hairstyle V3

Zenais hair V1 | Zenais hair V2 | Willow hair

Tess hair | Kali hair | Perrie hair

Sooa hair | Serena hair | Montay hairstyle

Kelly hair V1 | Kelly hair V2 | Miriam hair Bohemian

Miriam hair Straight | Lydia Hairstyle | Ditto hair Strands

Ditto hair Flowers | Ditto hair Braids | Ditto hair Braidsflowers

Jenny hair

Also check out the other hairs from the creators in this post: @marvell-world @oakiyo @candysims4 @aharris00britney @simcelebrity00 @okruee @greenllamas @yolonaw @dogsill @wsyzxkw @isjao @kamiiri @serenity-cc @vernonsvault @simstrouble @arethabee @casteru @gegesimmer @zurkdesign @sashima @sunivaa

Tagging just in case any of these blogs like to reblog masterposts: @sssvitlanz @mmoutfitters @mmfinds @love4sims4 @emilyccfinds

#the sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 #the sims #simblr #maxis match #ts4cc #sims 4 cc #ts4 hair #sims 4 hair #ts4 masterpost #sims 4 masterpost #ts4 lookbook #vaniepost

2K notes · View notes

gendercensus · 10 months

Text

GOOD NEWS EVERYONE

I felt like doing some important research between annual surveys, and an offhand comment from @averixus prompted a Tournament. This will be the masterpost.

Me and @averixus chose the pairs in the first round using a random number generator on the top 32 pronoun sets from the Gender Census 2023 results.

Round 1

Poll 1: one/one/oneself vs. void/void/voidself

Poll 2: avoid pronouns vs. ze/zir/zirself

Poll 3: pup/pup/pupself vs. vamp/vamp/vampself

Poll 4: star/star/starself vs. thon/thon/thonself

Poll 5: bun/bun/bunself vs. xe/xem/xemself

Poll 6: mew/mew/mewself vs. ae/aer/aerself

Poll 7: xey/xem/xemself vs. they/them/themself

Poll 8: ve/ver/verself vs. ze/zem/zemself

Poll 9: e/em/emself vs. they/them/themselves

Poll 10: ne/nem/nemself vs. he/him/himself

Poll 11: kit/kit/kitself vs. rot/rot/rotself

Poll 12: fae/faer/faeself vs. ey/em/emself

Poll 13: hy/hym/hymself vs. hy/hymn/hymnself

Poll 14: she/her/herself vs. use name as pronoun

Poll 15: voi/void/voidself vs. bug/bug/bugself

Poll 16: it/it/itself vs. ze/hir/hirself

Round 2

Poll 1: one/one/oneself vs. avoid pronouns

Poll 2: vamp/vamp/vampself vs. star/star/starself

Poll 3: xe/xem/xemself vs. ae/aer/aerself

Poll 4: they/them/themself vs. ze/zem/zemself

Poll 5: they/them/themselves vs. he/him/himself

Poll 6: kit/kit/kitself vs. fae/faer/faeself

Poll 7: hy/hymn/hymnself vs. use name as pronoun

Poll 8: voi/void/voidself vs. it/it/itself

Round 3

Poll 1: avoid pronouns vs. star/star/starself

Poll 2: xe/xem/xemself vs. they/them/themself

Poll 3: they/them/themselves vs. fae/faer/faeself

Poll 4: use name as pronoun vs. it/it/itself

Semi-final

Poll 1: avoid pronouns vs. they/them/themself

Poll 2: they/them/themselves vs. it/it/itself

Final

they/them/themself vs. it/it/itself

WINNER: they/them/themself

#pronoust

622 notes · View notes

fayes-fics · 8 months

Text

When The World Is Free: Chapter 1 - Sous le ciel de Paris

MASTERPOST | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Welcome to the start of my new multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. Please note that while I do have a plotted outline, I will be posting chapters as I write them, and I expect that process to take quite a few months. Please bear with me! This first chapter sets up the story - reader moving to Paris in the summer of 1939 and bonding with her new flatmate, Eloise Bridgerton. Please note that Benedict won't be turning up for a couple of chapters yet. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy! <3

August 1939

Emerging from the underground Trocadero metro stop, you round the corner of the recently completed, gleaming Palais de Chaillot and stop dead in your tracks. There before you is the most iconic landmark of Paris. Perhaps all of France.

La Tour Eiffel.

Breathtaking in its metallic magnificence, glowing in the setting sun. A sight that buoys your travel-weary soul seven days after you left New York: boats and trains finally bringing you to this wondrous spot. A light breeze even dances over your neck in greeting, a balm from the cloying subterranean heat of the metro.

It's a light elbow check to your arm that pulls you back from a state of reverie.

“A beautiful sight, but one you’ll get used to,” your uncle Robert chuckles, shaking your heavy leather case to indicate it's time to move along. “In fact, I've been told you will be able to see it from your appartement…”

He has accompanied you to Paris and will see you settled into your new adventures before continuing on to visit friends in England. He spent the roaring 20s living right here in the 16th arrondissement himself and, indeed, has arranged for you to share living quarters with a young British lady, a relative of his English friends. It's a comfort to know you’ll have at least one English speaker to chat with as you dive headfirst into learning proper French as you go.

Robert leads you away from the amazing sight and into the bustling streets, alive with cars, trams, bicycles and pedestrians buzzing in all directions. It's all at once like New York City, but yet so different as well, cafe terraces filling the wide pavements with all manner of people gathered to sip robust cafe au lait and refreshing limonade.

Within minutes, you are on a quieter side street and stopping outside a handsome honey-coloured stone facade with wrought iron window balconies and window guards, teaming with colourful, fragrant flowering pots. The number 14 gleaming white on a traditional navy blue tile. Your uncle pushes the enormous wooden door open, beckoning you into a cool whitewash wall corridor with mosaic floor tiles.

“Ahhh, Robert!!” a sophisticated middle-aged lady bustles from a nearby doorway and greets your uncle warmly, kissing both cheeks. It would appear they are friends of old.

“Y/n, this is Madam DuLac, your landlady,” he explains as you offer a handshake, admiring her boucle jacket and chic bun.

“Qu’est-ce?” she signals with a good-natured frown, obviously finding your polite greeting lacking, pulling you into a hug and two-cheeked kiss. She smells like Chanel perfume, cigarettes and baked goods. “You are in Paris now, ma chérie; this is how we greet one another,” she counsels in heavily accented but perfect English.

“You speak English?” you sigh, relieved, your French decidedly lacking.

“Bien sûr,” she smiles. “And please call me Solène,” she adds with a friendly smile.

“Eloise should be home from the library maintenant; the perfect time for you to meet,” she gestures towards an elevator cage surrounded by a sweeping grey marble staircase.

“I think I would prefer to take the stairs,” you admit, nerves flaring at the idea of such a contraption.

Your uncle laughs. “Well, I am taking it; I am not hefting this case of yours up five flights of stairs,” he adds dryly as you gaze up the swirling stairwell.

“Five storeys?” you squeak.

“The view is the best from the top,” Solène advises as she rattles back the cage entry and steps in, looking at you expectantly.

Reluctantly, you follow, all three of you and your luggage crammed into the metal cage as it jerks to life and begins its ascent.

“You will get used to it,” Solène smiles as she reads the apprehension on your face, your vice-like grip on your small vanity case and handbag.

Luckily, the lift reaches your destination safely. One shudder before it stops, and the door concertinas back in Solène’s hand to reveal a sweeping hallway with doors left and right.

“Ici,” she signals, the last door on the right-hand side.

But before you can knock, the door peels open, and a pretty, petite brunette jumps in surprise, dropping the book she is holding.

“Pardon,” she offers in perfect accented French, and you wonder for a split second if it is the correct apartment.

“Eloise, this is y/n,” Solène gestures.

“Ohhh, hello,” she grins, and the whiplash back to a plummy British accent is momentarily confusing. “I was about to go read in the courtyard, thought you might not be turning up today. Anyway… come in, come in!”

You shake her proffered hand as she ushers you into the apartment. Instantly, you feel a warmth spreading in your belly, like you have come home. It's light and airy, with large windows looking out across the Parisian rooftops, and yes, to the left is indeed the Eiffel Tower, still gleaming in the fading evening light. But the place also feels homely, that sort of messy that is lived in, comfortable. A large velvet sofa with tumbling stacks of books around it, a little kitchenette awash with colourful enamel cookware, and a jumble of art deco posters and random paintings adorning the walls.

“Solène, I don't suppose you've baked any more of those rather delicious madeleines, have you? To welcome my new housemate?” Eloise pipes up with a chipper, conspiratorial wink your way.

You already like her.

“Effronte!” Solène exclaims with fond exasperation before pausing. “There may be some…”

“I remember those!” your uncle adds with a tinge of nostalgia as he drops your suitcase. “You are in for such a treat, y/n.”

“Well, while our landlady decides if she’s willing to share the treats she has obviously baked but is being coy about…”Eloise raises a pointed eyebrow at the woman before returning to you. “...let me show you your room, then maybe a drink? I'm sure it's been a long journey.”

You nod and, with an exchange of grins, follow her down a corridor. She sweeps open the door to a lovely room, a large double bed with matching bedside tables and a dresser. But best of all, french doors onto a Juliet balcony overlooking a quiet courtyard filled with a riot of birch trees, their leaves gently rustling in the evening breeze.

“Mostly, it’s pesky pigeons down there, but you do get the occasional blackbird singing in the morning,” Eloise smiles as if intuiting your thoughts.

You spend some moments wandering the room and checking out the various fixtures, running idle hands over the furniture, already feeling remarkably at home with your new housemate and, indeed, your new home for the next twelve months.

“I'm just next door,” Eloise reveals, pointing a thumb over her shoulder.

Your uncle appears in the doorway to announce that he and Solène are off to catch up as you unpack and suggests you all reunite for dinner later at a local bistro. It all sounds so very Parisian chic; you cannot wait.

“So tell me about yourself,” Eloise flops onto your bed, already wonderfully casual in your presence, as you open your case and the wardrobe to unpack.

“I’m y/n. I'm from a little town on Long Island called Patchogue, about fifty miles outside New York City. I'm 22…”

“Me too!” she interjects, then signals for you to proceed.

“I wanted to see the world before I settled down. And I’ve dreamed of living in Paris since I was a little girl...” You feel your eyes misting at the fact it's now finally coming true as you continue. “So my parents agreed to pay for me to come to Paris for a year. Under the strict agreement, I get married when I return…”

“You have a fiancé?”

“Yes. Well, sort of. Stanley. We practically grew up together, and we’ve been going steady since we were eighteen.”

“Going steady? That's so American,” Eloise chuckles.

You nod with a giggle, then continue. “He hasn't proposed formally yet, says he is saving up for a ‘real nice’ ring, but it will happen. He is the son of my dad’s business partner. They run a construction company. So, while I'm here, they are building a home for us to live in when I return. We will get married next summer and move right in.”

“You don't mind?” Eloise frowns.

“Don’t mind what?” you query as you hang up your favourite dress.

“That your future is so… plotted out. I couldn't bear the idea. It's why I think my mother let me move to Paris. She was so fed up with me refusing to settle down.” Eloise laughs, idly flicking through the magazine you were reading on your journey.

“I suppose I've never really expected anything else,” you shrug, pausing as you put away your hosiery, but her words make you contemplative. “You don't have a boyfriend back home?”

“God, no. Too many pretty Frenchmen to entertain me here,” she winks. “I’ll introduce you to some, just in case you change your mind,” she breezes, climbing off your bed and drifting to the door. “Wine?”

“Oh… well, why not? When in France, etc,” you agree and close the drawer on the pile of cardigans you have just safely stacked.

“That's the spirit!” she effuses over her shoulder as you follow her back into the living room, the Eiffel Tower still glittering in the dusk.

“This place is so lovely,” you sigh, transfixed by the view as she wanders over and hands you a glass.

“It is a pretty magical view,” she agrees, staring at the skyline with you, watching as each window seems to illuminate in soft yellow with the dying light.

“And the decor, too; I see you love books as much as me,” you smile, tilting your head to the piles before taking a sip of red wine. It's the perfect balance of refreshing, mellow fruitiness and tart tannin coating your tongue, so much better than any wine back home.

“Oh god, yes! I work in the library. I can bring home as many as I want,” she enthuses.

“So, are there actually any left on the shelves?” you jest, lightly, savouring your drink and wandering to take a closer look at a smaller painting that catches your eye. It's very different to all of the others.

“My god, this is beautiful,” you breathe, hugging your wineglass to your chest as you stare transfixed at the art. It appears to be a large country house, probably British, bathed in the warm pinkish light of dawn.

“That's home. Aubrey Hall in Kent. I think the family made me bring it in the hopes it would make me homesick,” Eloise deadpans.

“It’s a wonderful piece,” you breathe, fingers reaching out to lightly trace over the heavily oiled brushstrokes. Something about it is so captivating and intimate.

“I'll be sure to let the artist know,” she smirks. “Although I'm reticent to give him any more praise, seeing as, unfortunately, he is my brother.”

“Your brother painted this?” taken aback by the revelation, assuming it an heirloom.

She nods and comes to stand next to you. “Yup. Benedict. Second eldest. I'm fifth of eight, by the way. Hence ‘E’ for Eloise. It's a thing,” she rolls her eyes.

“Wow. Big family. I just have one brother...”

“Lucky you. Although, as much as he is irritating, if I could only keep one sibling, it probably would be him,” she admits, taking a swig of wine.

“I love art,” you sigh, finally tearing your gaze from the canvas but already knowing it is something you will return to again and again. A pull you can’t quite understand.

“Oh, then I know the perfect job for you! There’s a gallery around the corner from the library, and I saw a sign saying they wanted an English speaker to assist international visitors! You would be perfect!”

“I would love that!” you extol, even as a tiny part of your brain lingers on the idea that it would be too good to be true if it all worked out, that fleeting sense of foreboding in paradise.

“Excellent!” Eloise’s enthusiasm pulls you back to the immediate. “So let’s get your glad rags on! It's time to hit the town for your first night in Paris!”

And thus, you find yourself being bundled back into your room to refresh and change for your first night in the city of your dreams. Indeed, as you find yourself being led by Eloise, arm looped in yours, through the bustling evening streets to a little bistro, your uncle and Solène already waiting at a table with smiling faces and drinks in hand, you can't help but feel this really is the only place in the world you could ever want to be…

Your adventure is just beginning.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

382 notes · View notes

startagainaprologue · 6 months

Text

specialagentmizuki -> startagainaprologue

˚　　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　 . ✦　　˚　　✦　 . 　. 　　˚　　　*✦　　.　　　✦　 ˚　.˚

Hello hello!! welcome to my blog ⋆｡°✩

(video made by @/tealgoat, art is mine) ☆- I go by Pastell, (Isa)Beau, Bonnie, Hero, and Aubrey ☆- he/it/sun/bun/bug - 17 - funny little art guy (requests are open, just slow)

☆- I mainly draw and post about In Stars and Time at the moment! but i also occasionally post other things on

@nonbinaryaubrey (omori sideblog)

@lovelymovingcure (rb sideblog)

@/heromariz (twitter)

@/startagainaprologue (artfight!! i have an artfight.)

☆- I dont really have a set DNI at the moment I'll just block you if I think you're gross. if you are proship or support that explode forever i dont want you looking at my stuff

☆- my art is free to use for icons and such with credit unless I state otherwise, please do not repost it!

☆- AUs im currently working on!!

In Recipes and Repetition: AU where Bonnie ends up finding themselves trapped in the loops rather than Siffrin, keeps Loop though! (found under the '#in recipes and repetition' tag on my blog)

Randomized Isatswap AU: AU where all the roles have been swapped around via randomizer, such as Odile being put into the siffrin role or Bonnie being put into the Loop role (found under the '#randomized isatswap au' tag on my blog...better name. sometime maybe.)

Isat Ageswap AU: Collaborative AU with me and my friends (@/the-bitter-ocean, @/tealgoat, @/basilpaste, and @/pixxyofice) where Bonnie is now the only adult of the party, and the rest of them are children (can be found under the '#isat ageswap au' tag, masterpost can be found here)

Equinox AU: Start Again a Prologue dual looping AU where Siffrin and Mira have been trapped in the timeloop together (can be found under the '#equinox au' tag, contains heavy spoilers)

i have other AUs but i either post abt them infrequently or i Forgor.

#like if seen thank you!!#finally a blog intro #mainly bc of the video #pastell speaks

150 notes · View notes

gilliontidestriderchampionoftheu · 2 months

Text

gillion canon design masterpost

ok last one \o/ lmk if i missed anything!

EPISODE 1:

Scute-like armor

Whalebone longsword

Shell shield

Shoulder-length hair

No shoes

Pretzel in tank at his hip

Simple loose black pants

Black sleeveless turtleneck

LOFFINLOT ARC:

Niklaus deal tattoo on wrist/forearm

DESIRE ISLAND ARC:

‘Coral’ colored necklace from Aslana

PARAMOUNT TOURNAMENT ARC:

New platemail armor

BLOCK:

Loses sword

Ring to match chip (never mentioned again)

EPISODE 54:

Broken coral crown (earl steals pieces of it for potions)

ALLPORT ARC 1:

Gains the Golden Lotus (sword), eventually called Destiny’s Blade

EPISODE 82:

Red lightning scars

EPISODE 85:

Magical friendship bracelets

REDESIGN (87):

Hair longer, up in a bun

Pretzel now on shoulder

More traditional fantasy looking armor

Spikes, exaggerated shoulder pads.

Blue black and gold

Helping hands gauntlets

Luxbrious pearl fragment embedded in sword

Shower head spray nozzles on palms of gauntlets. So he can spray people with water.

Boob window on shirt (not said in the episode but its on his character sheet)

ALLPORT ARC 2:

Oozing black scars on chest (only got scratched in “cool places” whatever that means)

Leaves armor there for rufus to customize it for him

ZERO AGAIN:

Gets armor back, now it's retractable

Curse scars heal

BLACK SEA ARC:

Hair braided (but still in a bun)

Gets skinned (“you didnt think i just grew the skin back, did you” but he does he literally does he heals himself and its fine after that)

#my post #jrwi riptide #gillion tidestrider

91 notes · View notes

beansprean · 1 year

Text

My Familiar’s Ghost part 46

Masterpost

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Waist up of Nadja on a blue and mauve background wearing a purple dress and her hair up in a messy bun. She holds up a hand, brow creased in concern, and says ‘Wait, wait, Guillermo, slow down.’ 2. Zoom out to show her and Dolly sitting at a low coffee table with an open box labeled ‘glass eyes’ and a brown taxidermy rabbit wearing a striped sweater and a pair of round wire glasses. Nadja studies it with her hand on her chin, tongue poking out in concentration, and says ‘I am trying to find the best likeness…’ Dolly, little hands perched on the table, pipes up, ‘The mahogany, I think.’ In the foreground, ghost Guillermo’s shoulder and left arm are visible, hand hovering in midair and shaking with frustration. 3. Repeat. Guillermo curls his hand into a fist and lashes it downwards, shouting, ‘Are you even listening to me?!’ The table and all its contents bounces upwards, surrounded by his ghostly light, sending eyes scattering around and knocking the rabbit over. Nadja startles backward in shock and Dolly flicks her eyes toward Guillermo in surprise. 4. Shot of Guillermo on a blazing orange background splattered with red. He hovers, nearly-complete wraith cloak spiking around him with anxiety, and presses his hands to either side of his head with an expression of pure panic. He shrieks, ‘Vampire me is running on pure slayer instinct, mindlessly killing every vampire he comes across! And I just sent Nandor straight to him!’ 5. Reverse shot of Nadja and Dolly busying themselves by putting glass eyes back into their box. Nadja scowls and sucks her teeth dismissively, mocking, ‘’Slayer instinct’… I handled four of you on my own, Nandor can handle one.’ Dolly points out, ‘A vampiric one he can’t hypnotize.’ Nadja shoots back, ‘Whatever! What kind of great warrior would he be if he can’t even beat his own familiar?’ 6. Shot moves to include Guillermo floating on the other side of the table, Nadja in profile. She looks at him with an unimpressed expression and leans forward, elbow on the table, gesturing with her hand. She continues, ‘Besides, unlike your delightful murderful family, you never got the sweaty juice-bumps that made you want to kill us.’ Guillermo, calmed slightly, turns a bit pink and wrings his hands together, replying haltingly ‘Um. I mean. I did, at first. I just…may have…misinterpreted…’ 7. Repeat. Guillermo looks away, flustered, turning redder. Nadja drops her hand and stares at him questioningly. 8. Repeat. Nadja has a realization and gasps in delight, slapping her palm down on the table and grinning proudly at Guillermo, eyes full of stars. She crows, ‘You horny little mongrel!’ Guillermo avoids her gaze, only getting redder and more flustered, and tosses his hands up, saying, ‘Let’s not talk about that now!’ /end ID

#wwdits #my familiars ghost #ghost Guillermo #guillermo de la cruz #nadja of antipaxos #nadja doll #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #fan comic #image described

524 notes · View notes

notjustjavierpena · 1 year

Text

The Making of Ellie - Part I: Baby-Making

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This DILF!Joel piece has rotted my brain for 24 hours straight. I have had absolutely no break from thinking about this, and it’s never been easier to write something.

Summary: A look into how you and Joel’s relationship is going two years in. Joel’s POV on his never-ending love for you and his extreme baby fever.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (MDNI!), Joel’s POV, domesticated Joel Miller, Sarah makes an appearance!!!, tooth-rotting love and fluff, they’re crazy about each other, talk about birth control and ovulation, pussy eating (joel is a cunning linguist), fingering, bit of praise kink, dirty talk, bit of body worship, breeding kink, daddy kink (if you squint real hard), slow and sensual piv sex, intense orgasms, creampie, God they are in love

Word count: 4k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49183051

Song inspiration(!!!): Too Lost In You by Sugababes

Baby-Making

Joel comes home from work around the same time each day now — and it’s never after dinner time. He has made it his mission to make time for Sarah and you, cut down work since you moved in, because two working adults living in the house means that he can slow things down.

His health has improved, his mood too, his fatigue has practically gone and Sarah has had more time to just be a kid, started playing soccer again, and has even taken up coaching the little league team now that she’s 16. It’s good for him. You are good for him. For both of them.

He loves it. He takes the afternoon post-work ritual very seriously. Always texts if he should pick something up from the grocery store. Sometimes brings you flowers too, remembering that one time you’d said that you didn’t actually mind the cheap cellophane-wrapped bouquets.

It’s interesting to him how natural it feels for him to slip right into domestic bliss with you because he never thought that he would get there again after Sarah’s mother. On top of it, he never considered himself a gentle thing, but after you, it’s like you kiss the calluses of him away. He is nothing but gentle now, even in his roughness.

He throws the keys onto the side table by the front door after arriving home, shrugs off his jacket, and bends down to take off his boots. The sound makes you appear in the doorway. Joel notices that you’ve changed into gray sweatpants and a tank top with a strawberry on it since arriving home, basically removed anything from you that is professional and uncomfortable. Joel loves you like this because he is the only one who gets to enjoy you like this; relaxed and beautiful, hair in a messy bun on top of your head and fuzzy socks on your always-cold feet. He smiles at your radiance, then pads across the floor to kiss you hello.

There’s something in your eyes; a flicker of mischief as you grab his wrist to look at his watch. With a grin that nearly sets his heart into overdrive, you hold his hand up so he can look at the time too.

“It’s five minutes past,” you tut.

“Right, but I got ya something,” he says, reluctantly turning away from you to rummage through his jacket pocket. He fishes out a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup and you immediately snatch it from his hands, holding it close to your chest.

“Gremlin,” he teases and you stick out your tongue at him, “No needa hide it. ‘S too sweet for me anyway.”

“I shall save it for later then,” you walk to the kitchen and open the top cabinet that holds the mugs. You stand on your toes to reach into the very back, shirt riding up just a little, and stash the chocolate cup for later consumption.

“Hidden from Sa-rah, the candy thief,” you purposely pronounce her name wrong for dramatic purposes. Then you lower yourself onto the soles of your feet again, not bothering to pull your top down again. Joel watches the slight reveal of the dimples on your back.

“Right,” he chuckles.

Dear Lord, he loves you so much that it is ridiculous. In a way that makes the future look better than it ever has because it’s no longer filled with uncertainty. He knows what’s going to happen; he’ll build a house for the three of you, he’ll marry you in the Texan spring and he’ll give you as many babies as you want. He’d do it all today if he could.

“How was work?” You interrupt his thoughts by wrapping your soft hands around the nape of his neck, resting them there. You have rosy cheeks, feel warm against his skin, with love radiating from your fingertips.

“Good, told Tommy to handle the next few clients. Some hotshot guy comin’ into the office tomorrow,” Joel tells you, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you closer. He thinks that you don’t actually care about any of this, but there’s no indication of boredom on your face.

“He building a castle or something?” You ask.

“Somethin’ like that. Guy’s filthy rich but not from his own doin’, looking at blueprints at the end of the week. Should be interesting,” he continues, “Not that you care about that.”

“I do actually like hearing about your job,” you kiss him on the lips, peck them repeatedly until he cannot help himself and lifts you up to hug you tight. His arms rest along your back and his hands on your sides, fingers sprawled out underneath where your bra had been in the morning. You must’ve taken it off too. He loves you comfortable.

“You just love my hands,” he retorts, nose against your cheek, “Don’t deny it. I see right through ya.”

“It’s definitely not completely wrong,” you admit when he sets you down again.

You walk back to the kitchen, too tempted by the knowledge of what is in your kitchen cabinet. You only take half, proclaiming some bullshit that you have to watch out for your blood sugar since one can never know when it’s going to get you.

Joel rolls his eyes, following you, “I can give ya some sugar.”

“Joel Miller!” You pretend to look shocked. He tastes the peanut butter in your mouth, pushes you against the counter.

“Gross,” a teenage girl’s voice says.

“Oh right, Sarah’s home,” you announce sheepishly.

Joel pulls away to look at his daughter, “Hey kiddo. How was school?”

“You don’t care about that,” she smirks, “But if you must know, it was fine. No homework.”

“That don’t sound like Mrs. uhhh…”

“Green, it’s Ms. Green, Dad,” Sarah says dramatically as she moves across the floor to put on shoes. Her tone turns taunting, “Go ahead and make out with your girlfriend. I’m going to soccer practice.”

“Have fun, Sarah! We’ll have dinner ready,” you chime in.

“See ya, honey.”

The door closes behind her. The house grows quiet for a moment, but then the mischief is back in your eyes, “She’s seeing a boy.”

Joel nearly gets whiplash, not sure why his pulse spikes. He trusts his daughter to make good decisions and has taught her how since she was just a baby, “Nah, she ain’t. Just said she’s going to soccer practice.”

“Joel,” you sigh loudly, “It’s Tuesday.”

“So?”

“She has practice on Thursdays.”

“Christ,” he runs a hand over his stubble, tries to keep his composure, and ignores the urge to send her a text.

“But you know what?” You’re back in his personal space, tugging at his arms to make him hold you close again, “Such a fun coincidence. I’m also seeing a boy.”

Joel can feel the tension seeping out of him in an instant.

“Really? ‘Cause I’m seein’ a girl. She’s real pretty,” he wishes that he could show his past self how tooth-rottingly sweet he is being with you because he’d hate it. Though if past-Joel found out who he was treating like this, he’d instantly become a goner just like present-Joel is now.

“‘S her sweet tooth, unhinged behavior that I love the most though,” he continues.

You whine in his arms, lean your head back and it earns you a kiss on your neck, “Don’t be like that. Not when I’m ovulating. I’ll climb you like a tree.”

Oh.

It may seem innocent but Joel knows this is how you play dirty. It suddenly explains a lot. The sweatpants, the rosy cheeks, the way you glow, no bra, the cravings, why Joel wants you so bad.

Joel wouldn’t say that he is controlled by biology, and he hates the men trying to argue their way out of acting like cavemen. But looking at you right now in your stupid strawberry tank top, knowing that you’re horny and ready because your body wants to make him a daddy... Joel’s head swims.

Something shifts in the air. You can see it on him, but Joel assumes that you wait for him to act on whatever is bubbling up in his chest and below his belt.

And act, he does. He distracts you with deep, long kisses until he can snatch you up from the ground and carry you upstairs. You squeak out a giggle but don’t fight back, enjoying the freedom of being alone with him.

“That’s why you’re so fucking sexy,” Joel says after placing you on your shared bed. He is already shedding himself of his shirt, undressing hurriedly to get close to your skin with his own as quickly as possible.

You crawl back on the bed, untying the strings of your sweatpants and yanking them down your legs. You match his urgency, but still decide to tease him, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Shut your mouth,” he yanks the rest of your pants off as soon as he is naked in front of you. He throws them in the pile of his own clothes, “You know exactly what I’m talking about, dirty girl.”

You’re just about to take your top off before Joel stops you with a hand curled around the hem. He knows you’re sensitive at this point in your cycle, but it’s not why he wants to keep it on, “I love how cute you are in this shirt. Keep it on like this.”

He crawls properly onto the bed to demonstrate and tugs the shirt up over your tits so he can still see the stupid animated fruit on the front. Afterward, he tugs your panties down your legs and off your feet. He will swear to a higher power that he can even smell it on you, sweet like strawberries and honey between your legs and it makes him feel like an animal.

He has had baby fever for a while now, even told you his plans on giving you a whole bunch of babies and you’ve merely giggled at him, especially when he told you that twins don’t run in his family, but he is sure that nature will give him a whole litter with you.

“Want me to eat you out?” He asks to which you whimper and nod. He doesn’t give you what you want right then and there, instead climbs up to cradle your head in his hands and gives you a long, slow kiss. He sucks on your tongue, hums into your mouth, and gets you worked up and wet before he’ll treat you right.

“Tell me,” he says when he breaks the kiss, nosing along the bunched-up fabric of his new favorite top of yours. He sucks at the skin between your breasts, places open-mouthed kisses along the swell of the left whilst cupping the right.

“I want you to eat my pussy,” you moan softly, running a hand over his hair as he licks a nipple. You slide your fingers into it, but you don’t tug at it unless you feel like you need to hold onto it for dear life.

“God, you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he growls before going further down your body, his spit leaving a shine where his mouth has been, “Can’t believe I own these tits.”

He goes further down, lets out a satisfied noise when he can see between your legs, “—and this pussy.”

“Yes, it’s yours, fuck, baby,” you sound delirious already, happy and eager to be touched, on the verge of a giggle even, “Joel, need your mou—“

You gasp loudly into the quiet bedroom. Joel has covered you with his mouth, eyes almost rolling back into his skull at the taste of your ripe cunt. He is too lost in you, a complete idiot with how head over heels he is for you, and he shows it by devouring you like he is starved.

“Baby!” You cry out, sensitive, “Fuuuck— just like that!”

He watches your thighs twitch in his peripheral, holds you down by placing a strong hand just below your belly button, and uses his thumb on said hand to pull the hood of your clit back. He sucks the little now-hard nub into his mouth, sending you into a state where he is unsure if you can even sense the sheets underneath you. If you had superpowers, he surely would’ve made you lift off the bed as if you were possessed.

He bobs his head a little, probably looking obscene as he hums against your clit and wiggles his head too. He looks up at you through his lashes, sees the red flush on your chest, and knows that you are close. Christ, he hasn’t been this into someone before.

“I’m gonna— you’re gonna make me—“ you say like always, announcing your departure from reality. He keeps going, feeling your stomach jump in a stuttering manner underneath his palm with how uneven your breathing has become.

“Fuck, I’m coming!” You sob with a yank of Joel’s hair and suddenly your thighs are shaking violently without your control. Joel can feel you coming before you announce it, your cunt clenching rapidly against his lips and your clit pulsing in his mouth as he sucks your folds into his mouth. You taste so good as a gush on slick smears his lips and chin even more. He laps it up.

You push him away when he gets too much, and he turns his head to kiss your inner thigh. You finally release the giggle that you’ve been suppressing, drunk on dopamine and Joel falls in love with you a bit more.

“You’re fucking incredible,” you say. The hand in his hair slides down so you can affectionately run your knuckles over his cheek. He responds by gently rubbing your thighs, soothing you on top of putting such strain on your heart and your breath. You hum, “I love you so much.”

Without warning, he smacks your thigh and you sit up straight. He grins, “Love ya too, sweetheart. Think you can give me one more before I fuck ya?”

“Jesus, what’s gotten into you?” You ask genuinely as you lower onto your back again.

“Wanna fuck a baby into you,” he replies, voice an octave lower than normal. He senses your shiver without having to look at your face, “Please. Wanna get her red and puffy so it fucking sticks.”

You let out an involuntary moan at the idea. You want this as much as him, he hopes, and he slides two fingers into your neglected pussy whilst he waits for the green light to fill you up. He crooks them upwards, fingers the spongy spot that only seems to have been discovered by him, “Lemme in. Lemme come in you.”

You’ve been off the pill for a while with the reasoning that it wasn’t doing any good for your body. Joel had stocked up on condoms since then, actually filled the top drawer of his nightstand to the brim because honey, we’re young and healthy, red-blooded Americans. But it had planted the idea in his mind that he could potentially knock you up, and suddenly the stash of condoms was being used rapidly.

“Okay,” you say with a half-moan, “Fuck, okay.”

Joel immediately sits up on his knees, still fucking you open on his hand. You squirm underneath his touch, trying to get a hold of your breathing this time, holding eye contact with him as he drags another orgasm from you.

It is much less hurried and a lot more intense, muscles clamping down on his digits rhythmically as you bite your lip and close your eyes with a soft gasp. He can’t decide if he finds this more sexy.

“Did you mean it?” He asks as he trails kisses up your belly. He kneels between your legs and places an elbow on either side of your chest so he can hold both your breasts in his hands. He squeezes them together, sucks on a nipple until you sigh deeply, and then watches them bounce back into place.

“Yes,” you say and your voice doesn’t sound unsure at all, “Fuck yes, I want your babies. Wanted them since I saw you. Want you to make me a mommy.”

“The prettiest momma out there,” he says, euphoria evident on his face. He slides his arms underneath you, rests his head on your breasts, and hugs you close to his chest, “Wanna fuck ya.”

“Please,” you say softly, spreading your legs open for him but he has other plans. He releases you from his arms to sit up again, spreading his knees a little. His hands wrap around your ankles to lift your legs up onto his shoulders, your feet behind his ears. He leans over you afterward and bends your flexible legs backward until the front of his thighs are against the back of yours. He can go deep like this, fill you up with his come how he has wanted to for months.

He takes hold of his cock, eases it inside of your spent and warm cunt inch by inch. You feel incredible around his dick without a piece of rubber separating the two of you. He can feel the head of his dick nudge at your cervix, moaning quietly as he is engulfed by your wet, pulsating heat.

“How are you still so fucking tight?” He groans, resting his forehead against your calf as he gives you a moment to adjust to the stretch. He knows he is big, gets a thrill out of how well you take him each time as if you were made specifically for him. There had been one time where he’d called you a trooper, and you had laughed so hard with his dick inside you that it had made him come.

“You feel so big like this,” you say as you look down between the two of you, already sounding out of breath. Joel kisses your calf repeatedly and softly, trying to soothe your overwhelmed body.

“Goddamn. You’re so sexy,” he praises, placing both hands on the sides of your head so he is hovering above you. He finds your hazy eyes, “Look at you.”

He gives an experimental roll of his hips that makes you whimper, both hands reaching for the backs of his knees. You hold onto him, staring up into his eyes with that siren-like look in them, and then you moan softly.

Joel starts fucking you desperately at that. He doesn’t hurry though, keeps his hips’ movements slow and sensual to have you moaning and gasping ever so slightly at the intensity. He knows he could just give in and fuck you rough and fast, but the heavy-lidded gaze that you are giving him with your mouth hanging open is too good to spoil.

“Joel,” you cry but it’s barely audible compared to what he sometimes drags from you. He can feel your nails dig into the flexing muscles of his thighs, creating half-moon shapes in the flesh. He switches to a rocking motion, and it sends your eyes rolling into the back of your head. You moan with your bottom lip between your teeth, “Mhm—“

“I know, baby, let it out,” he can see your pulse jumping wildly underneath the sensitive skin of your neck, feeling the heat of his orgasm pool at the base of his spine. He needs to be closer to you.

“Lift your legs down to the sides,” he tells you gently, thrusts coming to a halt and him realizing that you’ve heard absolutely nothing. He repeats himself, waits for you to follow his instructions, and then hooks his arms underneath your knees.

Joel gets closer to you by resting his weight on his elbows, his own body on top of your slightly contorted one. You reach for him, grabby hands in the air until he allows himself to be pulled in for a kiss. You cradle his face, make him feel safe in your arms.

“I love you, baby,” he breathes deeply. The new position gives him an opportunity to reach deeper inside of you, and it’s accompanied by each upward snap of his pelvis causing his cockhead to push into your g-spot. It makes it difficult for you to continue kissing him, eventually simply breathing into his mouth as he has you speared on his dick. Never once do you let go of his face, thumbs on his cheekbones, and tip of your nose against his.

“I love you,” you whisper, unable to catch your breath. Joel can feel your walls flutter around his dick, threatening to pull his own climax from him too soon. You pant, eyes burning, “You— baby, shit… you’re gonna make me come.”

“Yeah?” He speeds up a little, carding a hand through your hair and gently tugging on the bun. He coaxes you, “Gonna milk my cock into you? Make me a daddy?”

“Yeah,” you whimper wantonly, tightening your legs into his sides as you try moving with him, “Yeah, baby. Gonna make you a daddy! Fuckfuckfuck. Ah— I’m, I—“

Joel doesn’t know if he’s ever made you come like this; without all the muscle and rough touches, without the fast-paced snaps of his hips and the foul taunting from his mouth of how dirty you are. But come you do, with your brows furrowed, gaze on his and a controlled breathing that suddenly becomes erratic and uneven after you let out a high-pitched cry.

“That’s it,” he admires you, “So good f’me.”

You clamp down on his cock so hard that he sees stars, fucks you through each convulsion of your cunt. His mouth drips with filth as he works himself toward his own pleasure, “You make me so fucking horny, baby. Wanna knock— ngh, wanna knock this pretty pussy up all the time. Give ya a whole fuckin’ litter.”

He tips over the edge not long after, heart pounding in his chest and the sensation in his balls tightening. He releases with a groan, settles deep inside of you to make sure he doesn’t waste a single drop. His orgasm pulses through his cock, swirls in his belly, and warms the small of his back.

“Fuuuck,” he pants. He carefully removes his arms from underneath your legs before he collapses, allowing you to stretch out underneath him. You look completely fucked out, gasping feebly as he teasingly gives you another thrust before pulling out.

You wrap your arms around him as he falls onto you, nose against the shell of his ear. He can barely lift his head when you speak, humming into your neck that vibrates as you talk, “You think other people have sex this good?”

“Nah, ‘s why everyone is so fuckin’ miserable, why they gotta build mansions with their parents’ money,” he murmurs.

“Stop thinking about the hotshot client in bed,” you tease as you cradle his head in your arms, lifting your legs to wrap them around his waist. It seems you cannot get close enough, “You should only think about sticky, sweaty me.”

Joel finds that he doesn’t care about sticky, sweaty skin and you feeling like a furnace after three orgasms. He lays with you like this for a while, sure that you’ve drifted off to sleep at one point, until you push at his shoulder, voice back to your normal pitch as the post-orgasmic bliss has faded slowly, “Gotta pee.”

“Sure,” he rolls off of you. The sight of your waddle to the bathroom makes him smile, eyes following the way the fleshiest part of your ass and thighs jiggle with each step.

When you’ve closed the door behind you, Joel finds the strength to rid the bed of the dirty sheets and start dressing again. He’ll have a shower before bed, he decides, ignoring the sensitivity of sliding on boxers and jeans again.

Hurriedly, he bounces down the stairs to the kitchen. He gets the rest of your peanut butter cup, places it on the nightstand with your clothes right beside it.

He checks the time. There’s no point in trying to cook something up for dinner if Sarah is home from ‘practice’ soon, so he goes down into the kitchen to order pizza, heart thrumming in his chest as he hears you shout a thank you from upstairs at the discovery of the other half of your favorite snack. He is happy. So so happy.

Especially as he writes ‘pregnancy test’ into his Notes app shopping list.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel x reader #joel x you #tlou hbo #my writing #dilf!joel

1K notes · View notes

emlovessid · 1 month

Text

@wolfstarbingo2024 for the prompt regulus black, 558 words bingo masterpost

“He’s going to be here in, like, ten minutes.”

Remus and Regulus met in their first week of university when they sat next to each other in one of their lectures, and have been friends ever since. He might even go so far as to say best friends, but Regulus would gag if Remus uttered something as sentimental as that.

“Cool, I’m excited to meet him,” Remus says with a smile, stirring the pot on the stove.

It’s hard to believe that they’ve been friends for close to four years now and Remus still hasn’t met Regulus’ older brother, Sirius. Unlike Regulus, Sirius opted to study abroad, and spends most of his university breaks travelling. He does come back to England to visit Regulus when he can, but these visits never seem to align with when Remus is around.

“Before he gets here, I have just one request.”

“Sure thing, request away,” he says, wondering what on earth Regulus would want to request of him.

Regulus’ face goes serious as he practically begs, “Please don’t fuck my brother.”

Remus had chosen that exact moment to take a sip of water, which he promptly chokes on at Regulus’ words, coughing into his elbow until he’s able to speak again, “Jesus, give a man some warning. No, I won’t fuck your brother. Happy?”

“Yes, very,” Regulus says with a nod, his cheery smile reflecting his answer.

He’s still thinking about the absurdity of the request fifteen minutes later when the doorbell rings and Regulus shouts down the hall, “Coming!”

Remus stays in the kitchen as Regulus jogs down the hall to answer the door, giving the brothers a moment to themselves; it’s been months since Sirius was last in town and, even though Regulus would never say it out loud, he knows that he misses him when he’s been gone so long. Remus busies himself with getting out cutlery and plates for their dinner, setting their small kitchen table as he listens to the brothers chatter in the hall.

“Good to see you, little brother. I think you’ve grown since I last saw you,” Remus hears Sirius say with a laugh.

“Oh, fuck off. I’m twenty-two, you idiot,” Regulus scoffs, but there’s a smile on his lips as he rounds the corner and steps into the kitchen, Sirius following behind him. “Sirius, Remus. Remus, Sirius.”

This is the point where Remus should hold out his hand to shake Sirius’ in greeting, welcome him to his and Regulus’ flat, ask if he’d like something to drink. But instead he’s frozen in place, because somehow in the nearly four years of being friends, he apparently hadn’t seen any recent photos of Sirius.

He’s not even exaggerating when he thinks that the man standing in front of him is quite possibly the most attractive man he’s ever seen, his mouth literally watering at the sight of him – high-waisted jeans and a cropped t-shirt that leaves a strip of his stomach on show, tattoos that litter his arms and even one that peeks out from beneath his collar, hair tied into a half-up bun. Remus wants to devour him, and if the look Sirius is giving him in return is any indication, the feeling is mutual.

Turning to Regulus, Remus winces and says as gently as possible, “Sorry, but I might fuck your brother.”

#wolfstar #wolfstar fic #wolfstarbingo2024 #marauders #sometimes i write things

88 notes · View notes

ask-phantasmverse · 3 months

Note

Can I try to poke the arm thingy? Also, is it heavy at all? You say it's mobile but, those things should have more weight than bones, if I'm not wrong?

Man I hate it when my hand randomly turns into a comedic saw

BNUNNING! BNUUY! BUN!!!

I did not look up your sona’s ref I swear I will next time

—

Masterpost

—

68 notes · View notes

veronicaphoenix · 1 month

Text

zutto — chapter five | wc: 6.5k | series masterpost | prev. chapter

chapter summary: as night settles in and the rain pours on, Lia finally says the three magic words

tags and trigger warnings: fluff, fluff, more fluff, noah making jokes about cucumbers, noah being jealous of brad pitt, mentions of noah's nightmares and references to everything that's happened until now, specifically lia's drinking habits, sexual content including dry humping, oral sex (male rec.), swallowing, one mention of choking, mentions of birth control pills, and p in v (unprotected).

general trigger warnings: this work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction, abuse, & violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

💫 @bluestdai precious fanart of noah and lia in this chapter

The storm was still pounding hard on the apartment windows by the time Noah came out of the shower.

In fact, it seemed to have gotten worse. Noah didn’t remember seeing on the news that such a downpour was going to hit, but at the same time, it’s not like he’d been paying much attention to the weather either when all he’d been focused on was Lia.

And Lia continued to be the center of his attention as he shamelessly walked out of the bathroom naked and into the bedroom.

He could hear her in the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards as she decided what to make for dinner. They could have ordered something, but they’d already used that option several times since returning to Los Angeles. Besides, with the weather outside, it didn’t seem wise to bother the delivery people.

His eyes fell on Lia’s bra, still lying forgotten on the floor beside the bed. Smiling to himself, Noah picked it up and placed it on the dresser where he’d had Lia sitting a while before, as he kissed her and she squeezed her legs around it. He remembered how she had kissed him, her legs wrapped around him. After pampering and cleaning her in bed, Lia had put on one of his T-shirts, slipped back into her panties, and donned some socks. Noah had then gone to take a shower.

Nearby, he spotted the empty condom packet and tossed it into the small wastebasket in the corner. He dressed in a white T-shirt and joggers before crossing the hallway to the kitchen. As he approached, Lia looked up, her expression lighting up.

“Hi,” Noah said, leaning against the counter that separated the kitchen from the dining area.

Lia had trouble looking away, admiring how handsome he looked with his damp hair and fresh scent. She had pulled her hair into a messy bun, but her flushed cheeks and the mix of sweetness and mischief in her eyes reminded Noah of a little girl who had just been kissed by the boy he liked. Unable to resist, he leaned toward her, resting his forearms on the marble countertop. He lifted her chin with two fingers and kissed her.

The kiss was brief but left a lingering warmth. When Lia pulled away, the sensation of Noah’s lips and fingers remained with her. Noah watched as she licked her lips, contemplating whether to take her back to the room or let her eat something first.

“You don’t taste like rain anymore,” Lia said, interrupting his thoughts.

“Ah, no? What do I taste like?”

“Like Noah.”

His smile broadened.

He moved around the counter to stand beside her, trying to keep the lingering euphoria in check as he scanned her bare legs. Picking up a piece of carrot Lia had been chopping, he playfully asked, “And now? Carrot?”

Lia’s laughter filled the kitchen as he kissed her again. Her joy warmed his heart.

“Can you grab the cucumber from the fridge?” Lia requested.

“Sure thing,” Noah replied, retrieving the cucumber. “I didn’t realize it was that big when we bought it,” he teased, pretending to examine the vegetable closely.

Lia rolled her eyes with a chuckle, her cheeks warming as she took the cucumber from him.

“What are you making?” Noah asked, glancing at the pot of boiling water on the stove.

“Rice,” Lia replied. “I don’t want to upset my stomach. Is rice with chicken okay for dinner?”

“Yes, that’s fine. Are you having a stomachache?” Noah’s concern was evident in the way he narrowed his eyes at her.

“No, just being cautious.”

“Hm. And what’s that smell?” he inquired, scrunching his nose in curiosity as he looked back towards the stove.

“I added cumin seeds. They’re good for digestion.”

“Smells good.”

"Uh-huh.”

“I’m sure Davis’ used those before.”

“Likely. Could you hand me the nuts from the cupboard behind you?”

“Of course.” Before doing so, Noah leaned over and gave her a resounding kiss on the top of her head. Lia’s face flushed with a mix of surprise and delight as she began to cut into the cucumber. Although she was accostumed to his affection, she was aware that after that day, the line she had been so afraid to cross was now behind them. She would have to adjust to these new habits: Noah stroking her hair while she drew, her rubbing his leg under the table in public, sharing mischievous glances in crowded rooms, and exchanging kisses during mundane moments around the house.

A surge of happiness washed over her. As she continued with her task, she clung to that happiness, promising herself she would never let it go.

Together, they finished preparing dinner and ate with the rain and thunder as their backdrop. They chatted about the weather and other trivial matters. As expected, Lia brought up work and mentioned the trip to Japan. Noah steered the conversation away from becoming an argument by promising they would discuss it the next day, but not that night.

After dinner, Noah offered to do the dishes. Lia cleared the table and, once done, moved towards the bathroom for a quick visit before settling on the couch to watch a movie and fall asleep in Noah’s arms. However, as she took two steps out of the kitchen, she felt a tug on her shirt. Turning around, she saw that Noah had grabbed the stitching of her shirt and wasn’t letting go.

“What?” Lia asked.

Noah raised his eyebrows and said, “Give me a kiss.”

The intensity of his gaze had grown since they’d made love, and the fluttering butterflies in his stomach had quickened. Lia’s confusing faded, replaced by a warm smile that spread across her face, turning her uncertainty into joy.

“Okay,” she replied, stepping closer and tilting her head up to meet Noah’s lips. He placed a gentle hand on her waist while his other hand held a plate.

“Get used to this,” Noah told her after pulling away. “I’m not letting you go anywhere without a kiss first, got it?”

If Lia’s smile could have gotten any bigger, it would have.

“Understood.”

Seeing her cheeks flush, Noah continued, “Gotta make up for all the ones we’ve missed.”

Lia frowned in mock concern and replied in a low voice, “That’s going to be… a lot of them.”

“Then we’d better start making up for them,” he concluded, dropping the dish he’d been washing. With suds-covered hands, he pulled Lia’s cheeks towards him and kissed her again. Lia’s giggles vibrated against Noah’s lips, and he felt the water from his wet hand slide down her cheek.

When they broke apart, Noah reveled in the fact that he was the one who could make Lia, whom he’d known all his life, so flushed.

He pretended to focus on washing the dishes, saying to Lia, “I think you’ve got some suds on your face,” while gesturing to his own cheek. He let Lia turn away and lose herself in the hallway.

She was so consumed by love that after disappearing in the hallway she had to stop for a moment and steady herself against the wall.

When she emerged from the bathroom five minutes later, the aroma of popcorn filled the house. Lia found Noah sprawled on the couch, legs outstretched, feet resting on a cushion on the coffee table. The TV displayed the Netflix home screen.

“I’ve made popcorn,” Noah announced, pointing to the bowl next to him.

��“I can see that,” Lia replied, walking over and taking a seat beside him.

She couldn’t recall the last time Noah had seemed so relaxed. Even during the days they’d spent in her apartment, sheltered from the outside world, the tension had been palpable in his behavior. Despite their attempts to relax with movies, books, and tending to Lia’s flowers, Noah’s posture always hinted at worry, his attention frequently elsewhere.

As Lia settled next to him, she didn’t realize that that night, their focus would shift away from the movie and onto something much more comforting than the concerns that had weighed on them recently.

“Do you have any preference?” Lia asked, referring to the movie.

Noah shook his head. “Anything, but don’t make it sad.”

Lia leered at him a conflicted half-smile. She reached for the remote on the coffee table and perched on the edge of the couch as she navigated through Netflix.

Behind her, Noah’s eyes fell on her hair. She still wore it in a bun, exposing her neck, but a few strands had come loose. As his eyes traced down her back, almost smiling at how oversized his T-shirt looked on her, Noah couldn’t help but reach out and gently stroke one of the loose strands of hair.

Lia took a deep breath, struggling not to melt under his touch. She feared becoming like a lovesick teenager, but she let Noah touch her hair. As she pretended to be engrossed in choosing a film, Noah’s fingers continued to graze the stray strands of her hair before moving to trace gentle lines down her back over the fabric of his T-shirt.

“Are you feeling better?” Noah’s voice cut through the hushed tranquility of the apartment, his concern soft but clear amidst the rain against the windows.

Lia nodded, turning her head slightly to meet his gaze when she felt his fingers stop the patterns they’ve been tracing at her back. “I have a slight headache, but I can barely feel it,” she said, her voice carrying a trace of weariness but also relief.

Noah’s brow furrowed as his fingers resumed their soothing trail along her back. “Aren’t you tired? The withdrawal episode was pretty rough. And after that, we were cooped up in the room for a while.”

Lia shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I might fall asleep ten minutes into the movie,” she admitted. “But I’m not sleepy—at least not yet—, which is strange.”

“We can go straight to bed if you need,” Noah suggested.

“No,” Lia replied, her hand reaching into the bowl of popcorn. “I feel like being here.” She popped a handful into her mouth, then glanced at him. “Should I bring something to drink?”

“No, stay here,” he said, his tone dismissive.

As Lia hit play and leaned back on the couch, the ambient light from the screen flickered softly around them, creating a warm glow. Noah wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her snugly against him. Lia curled up beside him, her legs folded beneath her, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder.

“You don’t think about drinking at all?” Noah’s voice was barely a whisper, a low murmur that seemed to blend with the gentle patter of rain.

Lia sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping slightly. Her eyes were fixed on the tv screen, where the familiar Tristar Pictures logo began to dissolve into the opening scenes. “I know it sounds hard to believe, but ever since I woke up in the hospital, every time I think about alcohol, I feel a wave of disgust. It’s not that I haven’t thoguht about dirnking—I have. I just wouldn’t do it now, but I’m worried. I’m scared that once all this calms down… I’m afraid this will be temporary. And if that needs come back along with the withdrawal symptoms…”

“Whether it’s temporary or not, we’ll deal with it together,” Noah reassured her. “No matter what.”

Lia lifted her chin and gave him a tender, grateful smile. “I know.”

Noah kissed her forehead before sinking deeper into the couch, adjusting his position to make her as comfortable as possible. “What movie did you choose?”

“Legends of the Fall.”

Noah raised an eyebrow in mock exasperation. “Brad Pitt again?”

“What do you mean, again? I can’t even remember the last time I saw a movie with Brad Pitt in it,” Lia retorted, a playful edge in her voice.

Noah made a grand, exaggerated gesture of annoyance, raising his eyes theatrically to the ceiling. Lia pulled away slightly and scowled at him, unable to supress a giggle.

“Are you jealous, is that it?”

“Me? Jealous of Brad Pitt? He’d probably enjoy that.”

Lia laughed, and Noah, seizing the opportunity, slid his arm down to her waist and attempted to tickle her. Lia squirmed and laughed louder, gasping as she tried to get his hands off of her. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop.”

After that, they settled into a placid time, the movie playing softly as the rain outside continued to fall, its rhythmic drumming blending with the flicker of the screen and making Noah and Lia’s effortless intimacy even sweeter.

Lia felt the rise and fall of Noah’s chest beneath her cheek, her hand resting on his thigh. Noah felt content; lost in the serene bliss of having Lia so close. He’d spent months —years, possibly— longing and dreaming of moments like this. The sight of her next to him, the ease with which they fit together, the memories of being inside of her and seeing his love reflected in her eyes, was a treasure he knew he would never take for granted.

Contrary to her earlier predictions, Lia remained awake as the film progressed. Her gaze drifted from the screen to her hand resting on Noah’s thigh. A subtle movement of her fingers, a gentle caress against the fabric of his sweatpants, distracted her. She wasn’t sure if she was more absorbed in the finger-dance she herself started or in the knowledge that she had her hand very close to Noah’s crotch.

As her thoughts drifted, she remembered the pleasure Noah had given her in bed, how it had allowed her to focus solely on the rhythm of their bodies moving together. It had been a welcome distraction from the pain she’d felt before, when her body had longed for a pill that would have done nothing to help.

But their lovemaking hadn’t been a mere temporary fix. It had been an act that solidified what had always existed between them and promised to be repeated in the future.

So, Lia found herself completely disengaged from the movie. Her hands, almost at their own accord, crawled towards Noah’s crotch. The moment she rested her hand on top of it, she felt his cock twitch beneath her fingers.

Noah, who had been making an effort to keep his attention on the film and resist the temptation of Lia’s touch, was interrupted when she touched him there. He looked at her, her large brown eyes brimming with a magical allure that always made his heart flutter. When Lia’s fingers moved to encircle the rapidly growing bulge in his sweats, Noah abandoned the movie entirely.

He set the popcorn bowl aside and pulled Lia onto his lap, her legs straddling him as her hands grasped his cheeks to draw him closer. Their lips met in a desperate kiss, as if the calm of the room had been merely a prelude to the passion that would consume them not long after right there.

Their breaths quickened with each brush of their lips, the playful dance of their tongues, and the fervent grip of their hands on each other’s bodies. Lia arched her body against Noah’s, pressing her chest into his. Her fingers glided down the back of his neck before returning to his face. She yearned to touch him everywhere, to feel every inch of his skin. Despite Noah’s hands holding her—one on her waist and the other one cradling her head, pressing her against him—Lia showed no intention of letting go. She tightened her grip behind his head, using the press of her mouth against his to convey that she didn’t want to be even an inch away.

For a fleeting moment, as she heard a moan escape Noah’s lips, Lia opened her eyes. It was a brief second, but it was enough to send an electric thrill through her body. Seein Noah’s closed eyes and feeling his deep, passionate intentions toward her intensified her desire for him.

She relaxed in his arms, rubbing against him. A couple of hours earlier, she might have felt self-conscious about this, but now she was beyond caring.

She moved her hips against him, feeling Noah’s erection grow beneath her with each motion, warming her. Noah’s fingers fumbled with her hair stick, removing it and allowing her long hair to cascade freely. The scent of her shampoo enveloped his senses. Lia was all he could feel, smell, and breathe. He didn’t want it any other way. He caressed her hair, letting the strands slide through his fingers.

To his surprise, Lia pressed her body fully against him and grabbed his hair, tilting his head back and causing him to arch his neck. Without hesitation, Lia kissed her way down his jaw and chin until she reached his neck, where she nibbled on the red apple tattooed on his skin.

“Fuck, Lia.” His voice was restrained with pleasure. He melted beneath her, breathing softly in her ear, making a sound that seemed divinely orchestrated.

Lia continued to explore his neck, her lips trailing feather-light kisses. Her hands remained tangled in his hair while the other slid down to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

Althought Noah had drawn the curtains on the balcony doors, a small gap remained uncovered. If Lia had looked that side, she would have seen her reflection—straddling noah while he reclined on the sofa, his profile illuminated by the soft light of a lamp in the corner, next to a strelitzia that Lia had tended to for over a year.

The tattoo on Noah’s neck seemed to writhe over his flexing tendons, its spirals a warning against anyone daring to disturb its owner. Lia lingered on the snake’s head before slowly moving up his neck and jaw, leaving a trail of delicate kisses.

When Lia released his hair, she moved back up to his mouth, mesmerized by the rhythm of Noah’s breathing. He lifted his head slightly, one hand slipping inside her shirt to rest on her side before moving to her neck, drawing her face closer to his. Lia watched as he closed his eyes and moistened his lower lip with a quick lick. He brushed his lips against hers with incredible softness, breaking contact for a few seconds and creating a tantalizing anticipation. With a slight tilt of his head, he lingered just out of reach. Lia felt gloriously overwhelmed when their lips finally met again, in a kiss so tender and unbearably slow that she felt like she was drowning in it, savoring the salty taste of the popcorn he had been enjoying.

Gradually, Lia began to move against him with increasing fervor, driven by an energy she couldn’t quite pinpoint but knew she needed. She was desperate to feel Noah inside her again. While she was confident Noah would give her what she wanted, she didn’t want to rush. She was savoring the dance, and Noah was clearly enjoying it too.

As her hands slid down his chest, expressing her desire to touch him, she pulled at his shirt. Noah lifted his arms obligingly, allowing Lia to remove it. Her lips immediately claimed his once he was shirtless, and Lia’s body responded to his nudity with euphoric intensity. Noah could feel her nipples hardening as she rubbed against him like a cat in heat.

Driven by his most primal instincts, Noah grabbed a handful of Lia’s hair, kissing her with hunger. His cock throbbed in his pants, craving more attention than the heat of Lia’s groin. Noah’s fingers dug into her waist.

However, in the midst of that moment, a memory struck him—his nightmare from the previous night, where he had been holding Lia so tightly he’d hurt her. His heart lurched in his chest. As Lia’s hand slid down his stomach and she nibbled on his lip, he almost stopped her, fearing he might be hurting her, someway, somehow.

Before he could react, Lia detached her lips from his and, in less than three seconds, slid off the sofa to kneel between his legs, her hands working on the knot of his sweatpants. Noah stared, stunned for a moment, his breathing ragged. Then, as the scene unfolded before him, he realized it wasn’t a nightmare.

It was a fantasy coming to life.

When Lia looked up at him, almost seeking permission, Noah noticed her flushed cheeks and a hint of embarrassment. She tugged at his pants, nonetheless, and Noah lifted his hips to help her remove them alongside his boxers.

Noah, breathless and overwhelmed, felt a rush of heat as Lia took him into her mouth. A curse caught in his throat as he let his head fall back against the sofa, consumed by the sensation of her fingers wrapped around the base. Her teasing licks sent shivers through him before she settled into a steady rhythm. Noah’s hand instinctively moved to her hair, and he tugged gently, his moans escaping uncontrollably. Unable to look away, he watched Lia kneeling before him, each pulse within her mouth heightening his pleasure. Lia, absorbed in the salty taste and strength of him against her lips, found the reality of being with him this way better than she’d ever imagined, though a flutter of doubt lingered in her mind.

Noah gathered Lia’s hair in his hands, his fingers brushing through the strands that framed her face. Lia was so absorbed in the need to please him and the softness of his touch that she wasn’t sure if his murmured encouragments were real or a figment of her imagination. Her fantasies seemed to blend with the sensations of the moment.

Overcome by a moment of insecurity, Lia paused, drawing a deep breath as she looked at the flushed tip and the veins tracing his length. He was breathtakingly beautiful. Noah’s hands fell from her hair. Lia placed her hands on his knees and met his gaze.

“Lia? What’s wrong?” Noah asked. Had he tugged to hard at her hair? Pushed himself to deep? Overwhelmed her?

Before he could voice his worries, Lia spoke softly, almost embarrased, “I’ve never–I’ve never swallowed.”

If he was shocked by her confession, he didn’t show it.

“Lia, that’s okay. You don’t have to. It’s fine. You’re already—”

“But I want to,” she cut him off, her big brown eyes starting up at him with such adoration that his cock twitched on its own. The realization of her wanting him to release in her mouth had his heart racing.

“I just—I might have to—” she trailed off, unsure how to express what she meant. Noah understood immediately and shook his head.

“It’s okay,” he reassured her.

“Can you just—not hold my head when you come?”

“Of course. Whatever you want. But I swear I’d be happy with just—”

She didn’t give him time to finish. Her mouth was back on him, and Noah swallowed hard, trying futilely to grip the sofa. He knew he wouldn’t last long. He had imagined Lia sucking him off countless times, but he hadn’t expected it to happen tonight. He would have been happy just making her feel good, but it was clear now that in their relationship, they were both equally interested in providing each other with as much pleasure as possible.

Two minutes into it, Lia licked his frenulum with a teasing touch that Noah had never experienced before.

“Wha—Fuck. Lia—Fuck.” His orgasm hit him like a tidal wave, making him buck his hips involuntarily.

She gagged slightly as she felt his warmth spreading along his length until it reached the tip. His release filled Lia’s mouth and the back of her throat. The new experience, the taste, was overwhelming, but she forced herself to stay calm. She slowly released Noah from her mouth and swallowed, ignoring his intense gaze, as if he were worried he might come again just by watching her. Lia stood up and hurried to the kitchen, where she poured herself a glass of water and drank it in one go. Noah’s eyes stayed on her the whole time, even though he was sprawled on the couch, completely satisfied.

Lia took a deep breath as she set down the glass of water and smiled.

“You okay?” Noah asked, amused, trying to recover his breath.

“Yeah,” she breathed out, catching her own breath. “Do you want some?” She lifted her now-empty glass.

“Yes, that’d be great.”

She refilled her glass and poured another one for him. When he took it from her hand, he gulped it down and set it on the coffee table. Lia stood in front of him, eyeing the last drips of him that had come out.

“Do you need anything else?”

“Yes,” he said. “You.”

He grabbed the back of her thighs and pulled her astride his lap, making her let out an adorable squeal. Before attacking her mouth, he grabbed the TV remote and switched off the movie that had been playing in the background.

“Fuck Brad Pitt,” he sentenced.

Lia’s mouth was hot, her lips slippery.

Lia’s clothes disappeared in no time—her socks, t-shirt, and panties scattered on the living room floor.

Noah’s lips traveled across her face, down her neck and chest, nibbling at her breasts and giving her nipples the attention they demanded. He was already hard again, and Lia would be lying if she said she didn’t feel a hint of pride in getting Noah so excited twice in less than five minutes.

Noah wrapped his arms around her and tried to move them so he could lay her down, but Lia pressed her hands on his shoulders and leaned her body weight against him, grounding him.

“I want to do it like this,” she said.

At this point, Noah was convinced he had been granted the greatest gift on earth. Lia wanted to ride him. There was no way he was going to deny her that.

“I’m all yours.”

He slid down a bit, reclining his head and body so that he was half lying down, half sitting, but comfortably. This position would also give him a great view of her as she moved on top of him. His hands never left Lia’s hips.

“Condom?” he asked.

Lia’s eyes shot up. She glanced over her shoulder as if trying to recall if she had any condoms left anywhere in the house. She muttered a soft curse. “That was the last one,” she acknowledged, a hint of worry in her voice. Noah’s thumbs stroked her thighs.

“You’re not on the pill, are you?” he asked.

Lia shook her head. With all the medication she had been taking, one good thing was that she didn’t add another. Condoms had always been sufficient.

“I’m clean,” Noah said, hesitation in his voice. “I’m not saying it because I…”

“I’m good, too.”

“Lia…” he said, a warning in his tone.

“I don’t mind, really. I’d love to feel you like this. As long as… you know, just…”

Noah nodded fervently, “I will.”

He fused his mouth with hers.

He had chosen her. Out of all the women—and men—at his feet, he had chosen her. A rockstar like him, with his bank account growing by the day, could have had anything, but he had chosen her. It had always been her.

“You’re going to spoil me, you know that?” Noah said.

“Maybe you deserve to be spoiled.”

She slowly sank onto him, her face contorting into an expression of blissful pleasure, mirroring Noah’s. She fit so well around him.

Just like that, she began a decadent dance on top of him, making the temperature in the room rise and their bodies start to glisten with a thin layer of sweat as they provided each other with pleasure not only through their bodies but also with the sounds escaping their mouths.

Occasionally, Noah would grab Lia by the hair and pull her closer to kiss her, unable to stay away from her even while inside her.

At one point, with their breathing calming, Lia rested her head on his shoulder. Her skin was flushed, and Noah’s kisses on her other shoulder and the caresses of his hands sliding up and down her back didn’t soothe her; they only heightened her arousal. Noah kissed her neck, lingering there longer than usual to leave a mark that would be visible for the next few days.

“Tired?” he asked after noticing her movements had slowed.

“Yeah,” she admitted, her breath heavy against his shoulder. “It’s been a long day.”

He gently lifted his hips, his hands guiding her as he took control. As he eased her down onto him, she let out a deep sigh, her eyes fluttering closed in response.

“I want to pleasure you,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

“What makes you think you’re not?” he countered, his tone light yet sincere. “You could be out in the garden, pulling weeds, and I’d still find pleasure just watching you. Don’t be silly, Lia.”

His words seemed to drift away as her focus narrowed to the intense feeling of him filling her completely. Drawing on her remaining energy, she braced herself by placing her hands on his chest. Her expression was a mix of determination and fatigue.

“As you wish,” Noah said with a resigned smile, lifting his hands in a gesture of surrender.

He observed her intently, his gaze tracing the subtle signs of her fatigue. The once-lively spark in her eyes was now dulled, overshadowed by a weariness that clung to her features. Her breaths came in shallow, uneven gasps, and her shoulders drooped slightly, as if the weight of her exhaustion had become almost tangible. Her movements, once fluid and confident, had slowed to a laborious rhythm, each shift of her body marked by a visible strain. The effort was etched in the way her brow furrowed and her lips pressed together in a thin line. Noah’s concern deepened as he noticed the tremor in her hands and the slight unsteadiness in her posture, the kind that spoke of both physical and emotional fatigue.

“Lia, stop for a moment,” he said, his hands gently gripping her hips. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. It’s not necessary. Try just moving your hips and let the rest of your body relax. Can you do that?”

She nodded. Slowly, she began to shift her movements. With a deep breath, she eased herself up and then lowered her hips, her motions turning softer and controlled. Her body felt heavy, but she managed to find a rhythm, focusing on the subtle undulations of her hips rather than the whole of her being. Each descent was measured, the motion more fluid and less strained than before. She let her upper body remain still, leaning into his touch for support, while her hips did the work, creating a gentle, rolling rhythm against him. Her breathing steadied as she adjusted, her movements becoming a blend of exhaustion and desire, finding a delicate balance that allowed her to continue without overexertion.

Noah’s hands remained steady on her hips, guiding her with a supportive touch, and his gaze softened as he watched her, appreciating the effort she put into adjusting her dance.

“Feels good?”

“I feel full,” she replied.

Full of me, Noah thought.

She looked so beautiful on top of him, with her head thrown back, neck exposed, lips parted, and the little furrow between her brows that told him she was lost in pleasure. He felt an intense urge to wrap his hand around her neck and apply just enough pressure to elevate her pleasure to new heights, but he hesitated. Knowing her past made him wary of pushing her boundaries. Instead, he let his fingers trail gently down her chin, neck, and chest. Her long hair, cascading over her shoulders and down her back, framed her as she moved her hips in seductive circles.

He knew there wasn’t anything in this world he wouldn’t do for her—his girl.

They loved being in each other’s arms. It didn’t feel unfamiliar. It was comfortable and nice. If Lia had felt any shyness or inhibition about being naked and on top of him, it was gone. With the press of her palms on his chest, she helped herself move up and down on Noah’s cock, much to his pleasure. It was one thing to be inside of her, and another to see her use him to pleasure herself. She looked like a goddess on top of him, stunningly beautiful with her hair flowing freely. When she threw her head back one more time with a long moan, her lips red from his kisses, he grunted and his hips lifted uncontrollably, earning a follow-up cry of pleasure from Lia.

She tightened around him in a way that nearly left him breathless. His brows furrowed, his body tensing.

“What did you…? How did you do that? Fuck,” he managed, his voice thick with surprise.

She did it again and smiled wickedly at his expression.

“Are you trying to kill me? Is that what you’re doing?” he asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and challenge. Then he pounded into her hard, once, twice.

Lia smiled widely.

“What are you smiling at, huh?” Noah asked, one hand sliding up to flick her nipple with two fingers.

“Nothing,” she replied with a smirk.

“Nothing? You know exactly what you’re doing.”

He thrust all the way in again, making her breath catch in her throat. She gripped his shoulders, her body surrendering to the overwhelming sensation of him buried deep inside her.

“Noah…”

Both their orgasms were imminent.

A few more thrusts, their movements growing increasingly sloppy, and Lia announced she was about to come. The knowledge sent a jolt of excitement through Noah, his heart racing and his cock responding with fierce urgency. Lia clenched around him, rubbing her clit with the tips of three fingers, her moans building in intensity.

Just as her cries reached a fever pitch, a particularly heavy clap of thunder roared outside, its explosive sound nearly drowning out her primal scream, the thunderous crack coinciding perfectly with Lia’s climax. She exploded in a wave of ecstasy, her cries mingling with the storm’s fury, as if nature itself was echoing the intensity of her release.

Noah, driven by the electric energy of the moment, gripped her hips roughly and thrust into her with a raw, relentless rhythm. The thunder outside seemed to be in sync with his movements, each rumble intensifying his own impending orgasm. With a final, forceful thrust, he reached his peak, his body convulsing in a series of spasms as he pulled out of Lia, lifting her effortlesly from him. He unloaded himself onto his own stomach, a restrained wail escaping his lips, barely audible over the storm’s roar.

Breathing heavily, he drew her close, careful not to get her dirty with his come. Their movements were weary but the affection was still present. He kissed her, his touch tender despite the explosive moment they had shared. His hand moved to brush the hair from her face, revealing her post-orgasmic glow. She looked radiant—exhausted but deeply satisfied.

Outside, the storm continued to rage, its fury unrelenting. The heavy thunder that had marked their climaxes now became a distant rumble, a lingering reminder of the night’s dramatic and passionate intensity. Lia carefully turned around and reached for the box of tissues on the coffee table, her movements slow. With a slight grimace of effort, she grabbed a few tissues and returned to him. She began to clean him. The soft rustle of the tissues and their quiet breaths filled the room, the rain and thunder background music.

As she worked, a hint of wistfulness crossed her face. “Do you remember...” Her expression was bittersweet, as if she was wrestling with her own emotions. Noah’s gaze shifted from her fingers, carefully wiping the last traces of his release with a crumpled tissue, to the way her lashes cast shadows over her eyes. “The night we had sex—drunk sex,” she clarified, avoiding his eyes. “It was also raining.”

Noah’s gaze softened as he took in the reminiscence.

“I remember,” he said, his voice low and reflective. He placed his hands on her hips and begand rawing circles with his thumbs, sensing how she relaxed under his touch. “Maybe the rain knew all along… It knew this was meant to be, you and me.”

“Then it had more clarity than I did,” she replied, a trace of frustration in her voice as she chided herself.

Determined not to let Lia’s demons intrude, he sat upright and lifted her, instructing her to lie down and relax. He placed her back on the sofa, picking another tissue to wipe her before he took the rest of tissues from her hands and walked to the kitchen to dispose of them.

When he returned, he found her lying on the couch, utterly spent. Her body was relaxed, one of her hands grazing her clavicle, her legs bent comfortably with her feet flat on the cushions. He sat down beside her, a satisfied smile gracing his features. With an almost reverent touch, he extended his arm and placed his hand on her stomach, starting to run his fingers up and down in an hypnotizing pattern. His expression changed, softening as he took in the sight of her, vulnerable and serene. The warmth shared, the scent of their coupling, and the gentle rain outside made the room feel like a safe haven.

“Lia, I need to hear you say it,” he said then, softly, his voice rich with earnestness.

She paused, taking in his request. It took her a moment to speak, not out of doubt but because she wanted to convey the full depth of her feelings. It was the first time she would vocalize them, and she wanted him to fully grasp the significance of her words.

After a deep, steadying breath, she finally said, “I love you, Noah.”

The way he smiled then could’ve stopped wars.

Moments later, he lifted her off the sofa, eliciting a surprised little scream from her.

“Where are we going?” she asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and excitement.

“To the bedroom,” he replied. “So I can keep loving you. Think you can give me a fourth one?” His hand slid down to her bottom, giving it a gentle, affectionate pat, as his question vibrated in her ear.

She nestled against his neck, a mix of sleepiness and joy washing over her. “That depends on your performance,” she murmured, fully aware of how her words would tease him.

“On my performance?” He said, souding both incredulous and slightly amused. His tone shifted to a teasing lilt. “Seems like you haven’t seen me on stage.”

Lia giggled against his shoulder.

“I have… But you might have to remind me,” she replied with a mischievous glint in her eye.

He carried her to the bed, laying her down gently. He turned her onto her stomach and dove straight into her left buttock, nibbling and growling playfully. Her laughter bubbled up as she lifted herself on her forearms, watching him over her shoulder. Her gaze was filled with both trust and desire as he positioned himself behind her.

“With pleasure.”

— prev. chapter | chapter six

Taglist:

@sweetwombatpizza | @missduffsblog | @shilohrosechicken

@somebodyels3 | @respectfulrebel | @xcllnt | @bluestdai

If there's anyone I'm forgetting or that wants to be added to the taglist, please let me know 🥰

#noah sebastian x ofc #noah x lia #the inevitability of love at second sight #zutto #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fic

74 notes · View notes