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poppy-in-the-woods · 2 hours
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poppy-in-the-woods · 2 hours
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poppy-in-the-woods · 3 hours
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He's very pretty! This is a gorgeous guy! 10 Things I Hate About You (1999) dir. Gil Junger
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poppy-in-the-woods · 3 hours
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poppy-in-the-woods · 3 hours
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bye i can’t
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poppy-in-the-woods · 3 hours
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poppy-in-the-woods · 4 hours
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instagram
Precious.
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poppy-in-the-woods · 4 hours
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#they fight like they're already married ANASTASIA (1997)
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poppy-in-the-woods · 6 hours
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"objectively physically attractive but in possession of negative rizz" is one of my favorite character concepts. i think it's so great when there's an absurdly hot person who's just a complete fucking loser. the mood is unsalvageable the moment they open their mouth kind of deal. you get no bitches because you're so sucks.
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poppy-in-the-woods · 6 hours
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I saw a post about tumblr user ages...
Reblogs are welcomed for that sweet, sweet increased data pool (aka getting more than 20 responses 😅)
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poppy-in-the-woods · 6 hours
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poppy-in-the-woods · 6 hours
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No time to explain, just get in
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poppy-in-the-woods · 6 hours
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From the same photographer (Hélène Verret)
Have some sweet Ruffilo today 🥰
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poppy-in-the-woods · 7 hours
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poppy-in-the-woods · 7 hours
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the last song | n.s.
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With the new album finally completed and a new song dropping in a couple of days, Noah takes his girl to the studio, hoping to show her around without the chaos of past recording days, and maybe, he can get that last song he's been dreaming of.
one shot ✨ | noah sebastian x fem.reader word count: 2.3k tags: established relationship, fluff, fluffy sexual content (it's not too explicit), reader has a slight kink for noah's silver chain (who doesn't, let's be honest), no trigger warnings, just noah being in love and being loved back.
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The studio is finally empty. 
After weeks of relentless work and dedication, days blurring into nights, headaches, frustration, last-minute changes, and ups and downs not only in the sounddeck, but also in the mood of the whole team, the album was finally ready, and in a matter of days, new music would fill spaces beyond the studio’s confines.  
         Noah steps aside to let her in. She is enveloped in the grandeur of the space. Never before had she been in a recording studio, and its magnitude overwhelms her. The expanse stretches out before her, a labyrinth of hallways leading into rooms of creativity. There are framed records adorning the walls, a testament to the artistry that thrives within these walls. This feels like the type of place Noah would call home. Too bad she hasn’t fully realized yet that his home is her,no matter how many hours he’s spent away from her locked in this very right place. 
         While she is fascinated by the array of instruments, cables, and other things she doesn’t know the name of, it’s Noah himself who captivates her the most. His joy is palpable as he gives gently explanations about the use of each room, each instrument. His enthusiasm is infectious. He’s so eager to share his world with her. 
         This is one of the reasons why she’s so in love with him. 
         His passion. 
         And she is lucky enough that he’s equally passionate about music as he is about her. 
         Taking her hand, he leads her from one room to another, continuing his explanations and sharing curiosities about this and that, mentioning the guys, the places where each one usually sits while they review the recordings, the Starbucks cups that pile up in the corner of a table when they’ve been locked in there for twelve hours and start to suffer the effects of not seeing the sunlight or hearing the sounds of the outside world, anecdotes that ignite her laughter, a sound that makes Noah’s heart flutter. 
         She asks him about the new music, she pleads to hear at least one song, a piece, ten seconds. Nearly begs him. She knows she just has to utter the word “please” and Noah will give her anything she wants. This evening, she wants to hear the melodic cascade of his voice, get lost in the way Noah turns words into dreamy melodies. It’s not enough to hear him speak; she wants to hear him weave words into a song; she wants to drown in the melodies he has put into lyrics that speak of her, of the moments when they are stripped of all mundanity, of clothes and fear, when they are alone, skin to skin, and when all that can be heard is only the rhythm of their beating hearts and the symphony of their shared passion. 
         He insists he can’t. He wants it to be a surprise. He has hopes that when she listens to the album, one or two songs will get her on her knees, while others will lead her to beg him to fuck her to the cadence of those. 
         Embedded within the lyrics of the new songs are a few confessions, but there’s a time for those to reach her ears, and it’s not tonight. 
         He silences his phone and sets it aside while she occupies herself by tinkering with the buttons on the soundboard. A few minutes later, Noah sneaks up behind her, enveloping her in his warm and slipping his hands beneath the fabric of her white t-shirt.  
         “There’s actually... one last song missing,” he murmurs against the fragrant scent of her hair.  
         “One last song?” She asks, her curiosity piqued. She begins to turn round, but Noah holds her in place. He rests his head on her shoulder, and with a trail of his fingers along the curve of her stomach, he elicits a subtle shiver that she tries to ignore. “I thought you said the album was complete, that you had finished...”
“Not quite yet,” he replies, planting a ghostly kiss on her earlobe. 
         She can sense the cool, minty breath against her neck, and it sends a shiver down her spine. He has been indulging in a mint candy, and her mind wanders to the tantalizing thought of having his mouth between her legs at this moment. The idea of that refreshing sensation sends a rush of desire coursing through her veins, and she can’t help but wonder if it would be enough to push her over the edge. 
         She smells of jasmine and the promise of spring. He wants to inhale her, breathe her in.  
         Concerned, she wriggles in his embrace until she can face him, stepping back a few paces as she speaks. She wants him to take her seriously.
         “I didn’t know, Noah. I wouldn’t have asked you to bring me here if you were still in the middle of—”
         With a single step, he reaches her again, his smile widening at her endearing bewilderment. He captures her lips in a kiss, stealing her breath away. The taste of the candy is still on his lips, and his fresh breath enters her mouth as their lips part.
         It’s in the way their mouths fit together that she finds reassurance that they’re perfect for each other. She knows she’s found the boy of her dreams, and the mere thought of being apart from him feels unbearable. She doesn’t know how she will survive next time he goes away on tour. For now, she will live in the way his tender kisses have a way of evolving into passionate bites that ignites a delightful flutter in her stomach. 
         “You’re adorable,” he says over her lips. 
         For a moment, she feels dizzy. Then, with a determined frown, she grabs a handful of Noah’s black hoodie, attempting to appear assertive, though to Noah, she resembles nothing more than an adorable kitten.  
         “You told me the album was complete, that you would only bring me here once the work was done and this was empty so that you could let me explore and touch things and…”
         “And record the last song,” Noah interjects calmly, looking into her eyes, smile tugging at his lips.
         Her brow furrows even deeper, her head tilting slightly to the side as Noah’s gaze traces the contours of her face, his eyes filled with admiration for every freckle, that little ever so tiny scar earned in a childhood adventure, the faint blush spreading through her cheeks.  
         “Noah, I don’t understand.”
         “Let me show you…”
         With her skin already responding to the anticipation, Noah’s hands find their way under her t-shirt, caressing the skin of her sides. It’s always just one touch and she’s already putty in his hands. She can’t help it; the man has that effect on her, that power over her. She would give him the world if she could because no one ever makes her feel as cherished he does.  
         So, when he gently lifts her t-shirt, after worshipping her with light, seductive kisses along her neck and jawline, she allows him to undress her. His lips touch her shoulder, his tongue tracing a slow path until it finds the pulsing vein of her neck. A sharp intake of breath escapes her lips as he tenderly sucks at her skin, his fingers expertly finding their way beneath her skirt and underwear, eliciting a low, sweet moan from deep within her.  
         It’s the first of many moans to come.  
         Noah smiles against her flushed skin. His cock twitches. His heartbeat races.  
         The music is playing now. 
         He showers her with kisses, his hand cradling the side of her face as he traces a line with his finger from between her legs, through the valley of her breasts, up to her clavicle. 
         Growing impatient, she tugs at his hoodie, and sensing her urgency, he assists her in removing it. Underneath, Noah wears a black tank top, and her eyes immediately gravitate to the silver chain adorning his neck, previously hidden by the hoodie. With a heated spark in her eyes, she hesitates for a moment before seizing the chain and pulling Noah down to her awaiting mouth. 
         With one hand clutching his chain and the other sliding to the back of his head, she revels in the sensation of his soft hair intertwining between her fingers. He emanates the intoxicating scent of masculine perfume and tastes like pure adrenaline—a potent combination that renders him utterly irresistible. He’s as addictive as a man can get. He’s tall, muscular, handsome, and fucking sweet. 
         And best of all, he is hers.  
         Noah scoops her up, intending to place her atop the sound deck. It would be a great place to fuck her on, but he quickly realizes it wouldn’t be comfortable at all, and he doesn’t want her to get hurt. 
         He pivots towards the couch—a place where he had envisioned her countless times before… Sitting there with pen and paper, crafting songs about her, he had often pictured her naked form, her eyes shimmering with anticipation, beckoning him to find his place between her legs, to envelop her with his body, to fill her up with every inch of him.
          With care, he lays her down on the couch, positioning one knee on the cushions to remain close to her, determined to prolong their kiss for as long as possible. He doesn’t think he can breathe without her nearby. 
         She is never shy when it comes to showing how much she wants him, how much she needs him. She’s unapologetically about her desperate desire, and that’s something that drives him to the brink of madness. Her eagerness only serves to make her so fucking attractive that he thinks he could eat her up. He’s consumed by that need, to bite and taste her in a surge of primal instinct, yet he manages to maintain a sweet and seductive demeanor. She brings out both the beast and the tender lover in him, and somehow, it’s a harmonious blend that feels inexplicably beautiful. 
         With each touch, nibble, and kiss, her passionate responses start escaping from her lips, wet with lust for him. Their clothes disappear in a matter of minutes, and as Noah finds himself —and his skilled tongue— nestled between her legs, savoring her essence, and impregnating her with his fresh minty breath, the symphony of his name being carried through long feminine moans fill the studio walls in ways he could never have imagined. 
         But it’s when he’s buried deep inside her that the music truly comes alive. 
         Together, they create a melody of ecstasy, Noah playing her body like a virtuoso, eliciting the perfect notes and sounds with each touch, kiss, thrust. She’s a tangled delicious mess beneath him, but every whimper and sigh and plea for more is a testament to her trust and love for him, a hymn sung in the throes of passion. 
         Occasionally, a primal growl escapes him, the beast within yearning to be unleashed, but she, the angel, the muse,keeps him grounded, wrapped in her wings, guiding him along the lines of their shared musical score. 
         As their bodies glisten with sweat, the tempo of their lovemaking begins to slow, descending from its crescendo, their ragged breaths filling the remaining spaces of their song. She smiles against his cheek, nuzzling her nose against his skin. She holds him close, unwilling to let go just yet. Unwilling to ever let go. 
         “So?” She murmurs, teasingly playing with her teeth on Noah’s earlobe.
          He squirms in an attempt to escape her, but her teeth follow him, leaving him with no choice but to retaliate by biting her shoulder and descending to capture on of her nipples in his mouth, coaxing one final sound from her lips. 
         “So?” he repeats, mumbling between clenched teeth, his tongue teasing her hardened nipple. 
         “Did you record the song?” she asks playfully, gesturing with her eyes towards the sound deck. 
         “No. No, I didn’t,” he admits with a laugh, feeling himself softening inside of her. 
         “Oh, well…” she licks her lips, pretending to think of what to do now. The weight of Noah feels so nice on top of her that it would be enough to just keep on holding him. “What are we going to do about it?” she continues. “Any idea?”
         She does have an idea. 
         Her cheeky tone catches him off guard, and this time, it’s him who frowns as he gazes up at her. His chest and stomach press against hers, and with each laborious breath she takes, he feels the rhythmic rise and fall of her body beneath him. He considers moving, but before he can act, she wraps her leg around his, anchoring him in place.
         She bites her lip, tempting him to do the same; to lower his head and kiss her and bite her and leave her breathless. 
         A second later, she reaches down towards her bag on the carpeted floor beside the couch and retrieves her phone, unlocks it, and opens the recording app. 
         “Maybe we should try again, don’t you think? And perhaps we should try to be… a bit louder?”
         His eyes darken. 
         “Think you can do that?” she asks him, a devilish smile painted on her face. 
         “I can definitely make you sing louder,” he growls, feeling himself hardening once more while still inside of her. His home. 
         She has a way of provoking him that never fails to get him hard anywhere, anytime, in no time. 
         “Do I… press play now?” Her fingertip hovers over the screen. 
         Noah responds by pulling a few inches out and thrusting hard into her, their bodies moving in perfect synchronization against the worn fabric of the sofa they are laid on. She lets out a scream as her fingertip presses the play button. The phone falls with a thud on the floor. 
         And with that, they’re making music once again. 
         One last song. 
         One more time. 
         Louder. 
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poppy-in-the-woods · 8 hours
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𝖠𝗋𝗍 𝖻𝗒 𝖠𝗇𝗇𝖺-𝖫𝖺𝗎𝗋𝖺 𝖲𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗇 | 𝖨𝖦: 𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗋𝖺_𝖺𝗋𝗍
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poppy-in-the-woods · 8 hours
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