Summary: After years apart, Noah runs into his old friend and this time, he knows he can’t let her slip away again. Noah needs to tread carefully as this version of her has a child. He’s not sure he’s ready to be anyone’s father figure, but he’s certain he wants to be part of their world. He knows losing them isn’t an option.
An: idk how long this is going to be but I do know so far I feel like I love writing it. Enjoy!
AN: Was going to write something nice and fluffy. Got in a weird mood. So I present to you: pure angst. Again, English isn't my first language so apologies in advance if I've made a mess of it.
Warnings: Angst, hurt, grief, death, loss. There's a bit of fluff in it too, I guess. MDNI
Pairing: Noah Sebastian x F! reader.
Words: 2.5 k
Death was as all consuming as life itself. Perhaps even more so. His death was all consuming. It sank into your very pores, settled in the pit of your stomach. His death was like a wet blanket that you couldn’t shake off, wrapping itself around everything.
He was everywhere. He was nowhere. One moment he was there, solid, warm and breathing. One moment he was gone. But he was all around you. He was in the dirty laundry you couldn’t get yourself to wash, in the half empty cup of coffee on the living room table. He was in the crease in the sofa where he’d collapse after a long day. He was in the wilted flowers in the vase on the dining room table. He was in your skin, your hair, in your being. He was just not where you needed him to be. And he wouldn’t ever be again.
You needed him to hold you together, to gently stitch your wounds and piece you back together. Just like he had done many times before. But he couldn’t. Because he wasn’t there. He had gone from this world in an instant, leaving you with broken pieces of a shared life.
And there you stood. In your home. In his home. The home you had shared. Alone. Rooms that were once filled with music, warmth and laughter felt hollow, unforgiving and unfamiliar.
————
You let out a huff as you slid into the passenger seat after another failed viewing. ”We’re never gonna find the one, are we?”
Noah’s eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled at you, putting a large, warm hand on your thigh. ”Don’t give up hope yet! Our house is out there somewhere, waiting for us! We just have to find it.”
”At this rate it feels like I might just move in with you and the boys.”
”Jesse would love that, you know. I think he likes you more than he likes me.”
You laughed. ”Well duh? I’m clearly the most likeable out of the two of us!”
”You are.”
Noah put the car in reverse, backing out of the driveway of yet another house you wouldn’t purchase. ”I’ve just got a good feeling about this next one, you know. I think it might be the one.”
An hour later you felt your breath catch in your chest. ”Noah… there’s no way we can afford this.” you glanced up at him and continued, ”There’s absolutely no way we can afford a mid century villa in this neighbourhood.”
The house seemed to rise naturally from the landscape, as if it had always been there. Long horizontal lines stretched beneath a gently sloping roof, walls of glass reflected the golden afternoon light. Warm cedar panels glowed against clean stone surfaces.
”It is a bit over budget, yeah. But not by much. It’s doable.”
”Doable..?”
”Doable. Let’s go inside.” Noah reached for your hand, pulling you gently up the pathway to the front door.
When you stepped inside, the space opened around you. Sunlight streamed through large windows, illuminating wood panels and natural stone. Beyond the glass, trees in the garden swayed gently in the breeze.
For the first time in months of endless viewings, you felt calm. Every surface felt warm to the touch, every corner designed to make you linger. For a moment, you simply stood there, taking it all in. It was the kind of place that instantly makes you imagine a life inside it.
You were fixated on the walls around you, eyes widening in barely concealed glee. ”Oh Noah. It’s… it’s perfect.” Looking up at him revealed that he wasn’t looking at the house. He was looking at you, a soft smile warming his face.
”Welcome home, baby.”
————
It had been your home for the last year and a half. It still was, but not really. You slept in the spare bedroom, ate in the kitchen, showered in one of the bathrooms. You still hadn’t been able to sleep in your shared bed or enter his studio.
You wanted to stay. You wanted to live in this house. In the house he had been so proud of. In the house he had bought for the two of you. You wanted to sit where he used to sit, like his crease in the sofa would bring some part of him back to you. You wanted to cook in the kitchen you had stood side by side in. But you couldn’t. He was everywhere. He was nowhere.
And now you had to leave. You couldn’t stay. In the past few days you had put all of your own and all of your shared belongings in cardboard boxes. All of his belongings were still where he had put them. You just couldn’t bring yourself to put them away. Not by yourself.
There was a gentle knock on the door that pulled you from your catatonic state. ”Come in.” You yelled, voice raspy. You watched them enter your home without really seeing them. Not until you felt a pair of strong arms around you did you really see them. Folio held you like he was trying to put you back together. Without being asked Noah’s chosen family started doing what you couldn’t bring yourself to do. Davis was gently sorting through some of the paperwork Noah had left behind. Jolly and Jesse were carefully folding and packing Noah’s clothes. Folio had let go of you, helping Michael and Bryan emptying the garage. You were still standing there, not knowing what to do.
You felt a hand on your shoulder and met Nick's eyes. In all the years you had known him you had never seen him look the way he did now. You had lost the love of your life and your soulmate. And in a way, so had Nick. He glanced at the door to the room that had in so many ways been the heart of the house. Noah’s studio and office. ”Ready?” he asked.
”No.” You whimpered, ”but I don’t think I’ll ever be.” Nick nodded, giving you a careful push in the small of your back.
Your hand trembled on the door handle. When you pushed it down you were met with such profound stillness. The afternoon sun shone through the window, illuminating the dust dancing in the air. You felt your chest tighten. Everything in there was him. This room contained his very essence. His very soul. From the guitars on the walls, the computer on the desk, the microphone in the corner. The crumpled sheets of paper with discarded lyrics. It was just… him. This room was Noah.
Your own sharp sob cut through the silence, making you suddenly aware that you were crying. Nick could only hold you, letting you bury your tears in his shirt. One of his warm hands splayed over your shoulder blades, the other cupped the back of your head.
Slowly but surely the others quietly piled in. They disassembled the studio in silence whilst Nick held your sobbing form. Their own sorrow and grief gathered in their eyes, falling down their faces as they worked. Neither of them bothered to wipe their tears away. You knew they were doing their best to keep themselves together for you.
Jolly opened a drawer in the desk, expecting to find a bunch of guitar picks, cables and pens. He didn’t expect to find an envelope with your name on it. His voice shook slightly as he said your name. You lifted your head from Nicks chest to see Jolly holding out a letter to you. You took it from him with trembling hands. It had your name on it. In Noah’s handwriting. You felt seven pairs of eyes on you as you opened it.
”My love,
Right now you’re getting ready for our date, completely unaware of what’s about to happen.
I can hear you singing from upstairs. You’re doing that thing where you only remember half the lyrics and confidently make up the rest. Every now and then I hear a drawer slam and I know you’re running late, even though you’ve been getting ready for over an hour.
And I am terrified.
Not because I don’t know if I love you. God, I know that.
I’m terrified because in a few hours I’m going to ask you to spend the rest of your life with me.
Maybe by the time you’re reading this we’ll already be married. That’s the plan, anyway.
If that’s true, then I have questions.
How was the wedding?
Did you cry?
Did I cry?
Actually, don’t answer that. We both know I cried.
What did your dress look like? Was it the one you swore you didn’t want and then ended up loving anyway?
Did I wear a tie or a bow tie? I’m hoping you’ll talk me out of the bow tie if I try to get clever.
Are we in our house while you’re reading this? Is there a dog sleeping somewhere nearby? Did you finally convince me to let you get two?
Most importantly, are we happy?
I hope we are.
Not because life is perfect, but because we’re together. Because after all the years and all the versions of my life that existed before you, I still can’t quite believe I found you.
If everything went according to plan, then tonight was the beginning of the rest of our lives.
And if you’re reading this after we’ve said “I do”, then there’s only one thing left to say:
Thank you for saying yes.
I love you.
I’ll love you tomorrow, and next year, and every year after that.
Forever sounds like a long time, but with you it still doesn’t seem long enough.
Love,
Your Noah”
You read it and read it again. And again. Your tears fell thick and fast from your cheeks, landing on the paper in your hands; slightly smudging some of the words. Some of his words.
You barely manage to whisper ”I need a few minutes” before exiting the room. Noah had written the letter you now held in your hands only seven months ago, on what had been the happiest day of your life.
————
”Please.”
Noah is on one knee in front of you. In his hands he’s holding a small, midnight blue velvet box. The fairy lights reflected and danced in the diamond. The ring was simple, sleek and with a diamond large enough to make you feel a bit light headed.
You had suspected that something was happening the whole day. You just hadn’t let yourself imagine this. Noah had been unusually quiet the whole day. He had been twitchy, almost jumpy. He had taken you to your favorite restaurant. Your tall boyfriend, who could easily wolf down both his and your food, had mostly moved his food around the plate. One leg continuously bouncing up and down. ”Noah, baby, what’s up? You seem… not yourself.”
”Oh… I just have a lot on my mind.”
You tried to push. ”Like what?”
”Nothing important baby.” he reached over the table, taking your hand in his, offering an apologetic smile. ”I’m sorry. I just… got a bit lost in my head.”
He looked calmer, and probably could’ve fooled anyone. But not you. You noticed the shallow breathing and the pearls of sweat glistening in his hairline.
Noah was panicking inside. He had this night perfectly planned out in his head, and now his nerves seemed to get the better of him. Dinner at your favourite restaurant. A walk in the nearby park. Him falling to one knee in the gazebo by the lake. The gazebo Jesse and Jolly had spent hours not only guarding so that no one could get in the way, but also decorating with fairy lights and candles. And now Noah was about to ruin the whole night just because he couldn’t control his nerves. He was sure he wouldn’t get a single word out even though he had practiced his speech for weeks.
And now, there he was, on one knee in front of you in the warmly illuminated gazebo. His words failed him. Your eyes opened wide with surprise, delicate hands covering your slightly opened mouth. A breeze drifted through the evening air, teasing loose strands of your curled hair. For a moment, Noah found himself irrationally jealous of the wind and the ease with which it touched you.
He wanted to tell you how much he loved you. How much you changed his life. How just your presence grounded him. How beautiful you were. How pretty you looked. How he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. How he wanted to ease all your pain, worries and fears until his last breath. But he couldn’t. The only word he managed was a choked ”please”.
”Oh my god Noah…” you whispered.
”Please. Please marry me.”
Tears blurred your vision, breaking the evening light into glowing amber orbs. Beyond them stood Noah on one knee, blurred and golden, already looking like a memory.
”Yes!!! Yes of course I’ll marry you!!!”
Noah exhaled loudly and for the first time that day he felt his shoulders relaxing. He stood, wrapping you in his arms. Looking down at you with a single tear running down his face, his lips captured yours in a kiss that said more than he ever could. Taking one step back he took your left hand in his own, large tattooed one. He slipped the ring on your ring finger. You looked at it. You couldn’t quite believe your eyes. You were now his fiancée.
“I had a whole speech, you know.”
“I know.”
“It was really good.”
“I’m sure it was.”
“I forgot every single word.”
————
You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know where to go. Your heart felt like it was exploding in your chest. He had written you a letter. A letter that, unbeknownst to yourself, you were now crumpling in your hand. He was gone. Forever. He had loved you. You had loved him. You loved him. You’d always love him. But that love now had nowhere to go. He was gone, but the love wasn’t.
Your pace quickened. You had to get out of the house. It felt like the walls were closing in around you. You slid the back door open. The afternoon sun felt warm on your skin, an unwelcome reminder that the world has kept spinning even after Noah was gone from it. You fell to your knees in the dry grass. A sob escaped your lips, one shaking hand trying to stifle the sound. The house was quiet. The men still standing in the studio looked at each other, unsure what to do. The scream that left you was born somewhere deep inside, from a place grief had hollowed out. It tore through the house like a living thing, sharp enough to make everyone freeze where they stood.
In the letter he had asked if he’d worn a tie or a bow tie at your wedding. You remembered standing in a funeral home, having to choose what he would be buried in. You hadn’t helped him choose what to wear for your wedding. You’d helped choose what he would be laid to rest in.
And now he was in every room. He was in every memory. He was in every plan you never got to make. He was everywhere. And he was nowhere.
AN: Okaaay, so this is the first fic I've ever published and I've had it sitting in my Google Docs for weeks lol. Not sure what it says about me that the first thing I ever publish is pure filth but hey..! And I think it goes without saying that this is a work of fiction about a real person that isn't in any way shape or form meant to reflect him as a person. Its just for fun! English isn't my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. Ahhh I'm so nervous!!! Ok lets gooo
Warnings: NSFW! 18+, MDNI, oral (m receiving), deep throat, masturbation (f). That's pretty much it.
Pairing: Noah Sebastian x F! reader.
Words: 1.5k
You were in bed, curled up against your boyfriend with his arm lazily wrapped around your waist. The movie the two of you had chosen was playing on the TV. Noah felt stiffer than usual beside you, like always when he had something on his mind that he just couldn’t shake. Your suspicion was confirmed when you glanced up at him. A vacant expression on his face, gaze fixed somewhere between the TV and the doorframe.
“Baby?”
No response.
You sat up a bit straighter, Noah’s hand slipping from your waist. Still no reaction.
You shook his shoulder lightly, his eyes finally finding your face. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
“Oh… nothing.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Noah. You’re the worst liar. I can tell something’s up. Don’t shut me out, please.”
Noah’s gaze softened. He ran a large, tattooed hand over his face and sighed deeply.
“It’s just… a lot right now. With the album and the tour. There’s this song that I just can’t get right. Everyone else thinks it’s fine but… it’s just something, you know?” You nodded, slowly starting to rub his shoulders. He sighed again.
“And Jolly is on my dick about it too. Wanting me to “let it go”. And the summer is coming up and I don’t feel ready for a new tour. For being away from you again.”
You felt your heart ache for him. This beautiful, hardworking man that you were lucky enough to call your boyfriend.
“Noah, I-“ you started.
“I’m sorry angel, I didn’t mean to put this all on you.”
“No, don’t say that. We’re in this together, yeah?”
He offered you a small smile, pulling you into his lap. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you impossibly close. “I know, baby.” He buried his face into the crook of your neck, breathing you in. “I just… I want to be present here with you before I leave for tour. I’m just so stressed out.”
You placed both your hands on his chest, pushing him lightly away from you. His head fell back to the headboard, looking at you from under heavy eyelids. Biting down on your lower lip you gave him your most innocent smile. “My baby is stressed out..?” You tsked. “We can’t have that now, can we?” You slightly moved your hips over his, rocking softly on his lap. “Maybe I could… help you out?”
A grin slowly spread over his lips.
“You know… I think you can.”
“Yeah?” One of your hands nestled into the back of his neck, soft hair spreading between your fingers. Both of his large hands found your lower back, pulling you back into him.
“Yeah.” His lips met yours. The kiss wasn’t hurried. It was soft, slow and filled with unsaid words of affection. You tugged slightly on his hair, earning a soft groan from his lips. Pulling away you slipped the hair tie from your wrist, putting your hair up in a ponytail. “Oh?” One of his eyebrows shot up.
“Just let me take care of my man.” You whispered, leaving a kiss on the sensitive spot right behind his ear. Noah shuddered beneath you. You spent some time kissing, nipping and sucking on his neck. Your teeth sinking into the soft skin where his broad shoulders met his neck, followed by your tongue, soothing the red marks. Your hands slipped beneath the hem of his shirt, lifting it over his head.
You took your time, kissing him over his bare chest, tip of your tongue following the lines of ink over his torso. Slowly you made your way down over his tummy. He groaned and squirmed beneath you. You spent some time kissing the little happy trail of hair between his belly button and the hem of his sweatpants.
You slowly started to palm at his arousal through the fabric of his pants. “Angel… please” he moaned. “Hmm?” You said, looking up at him with innocent eyes. The sight that met your eyes should be hung at the Louvre. Noah was slightly panting, gazing down at you through heavily lidded eyes, pupils blown wide. Jaw slacked, mouth slightly ajar. He was so beautiful.
His pleading look made you hurry up. Your fingers hooked both his sweatpants and his boxers, pulling them down. Both got discarded on the floor. His erection lay hot and heavy against his abs. Long, thick and slightly glistening with precum. The sight made your mouth water. He felt perfect in your hands. Smooth, veiny skin against your palm. You slowly dragged a thumb over the bead of precum at the slit. Noah hissed at the touch. “So sensitive for me…” you cooed.
You leaned over, mouth tantalisingly close to where he needed you. He involuntarily bucked his hips up into your hand. “So impatient.” You teased as you spat into your hand, starting to pump him slowly, mouth still centimeters from his cock.
“Fuck- fuck baby that feels so good.”
You leaned forward, pressing a small kiss on his swollen tip. One of his hands flew down to grab your hair. He didn’t pull, didn’t push, just wanted you to stay there. You licked a long stripe from the underside up, putting his length into your mouth. Noah let out a deep, guttural groan. “Holy shit baby, your mouth feels like it was made just for me.”
You hollowed your cheeks, starting to bop your head up and down. What you couldn’t fit in your mouth you stoked with your hand. Tongue swirling up and down his length as you go.
“Oh my god…” You looked up to meet his eyes. The sight of you, mouth stuffed full of him, made a whimper leave his lips. You smiled and sucked harder. “My perfect girl… taking me so well. You think you could take me deeper?” You nodded, saliva starting to creep out of the corner of your mouth. “Yeah? My filthy girl. Would you hang your head off the bed for me? Let me use - fucking hell- that pretty mouth of yours?”
You could feel the heat burning between your thighs, just the thought of it making you light headed. You pulled your lips off him with a wet pop.
“That’s a yes?”
“Yeah.”
You repositioned yourself to lay on your back, head lolling off the side of the bed. Noah stood up, and the sight of you laying waiting for him with your mouth wide open could make him cum on the spot.
“Theee taps on my thigh if you need me to stop, princess.” You nodded. “Use your words, please.”
“Three taps on your thigh.”
“My perfect girl…” he said as he brushed his fingers over your cheek. “So eager for me to use her.”
And then he stepped in front of you, easing his cock into your mouth. He slowly thrusted in and out until he was buried to the hilt in your mouth. You gagged as his cock hit the back of your throat. “Shh… breathe through your nose baby… that’s it baby.” He allowed you a few seconds to adjust before he started to move his hips. The sensation was overwhelming as he started to fuck in and out of your mouth, his breathing heavy and uneven.
“Fuck baby… I can see myself through your neck.” His long fingers reached down, massaging slow circles over the bulge in your throat. “Jesus…” he hissed, “that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My good, good girl. Treating me so - so fucking good.”
The praise made even more heat rush to your core and you couldn’t resist anymore. Noah’s cock slid in and out of your mouth, pace becoming more and more erratic. With every thrust he hit the back of your throat, making you gag slightly. Saliva spilled out from the corners of your mouth, tears clouding your vision. You slipped your hand beneath the pyjama shorts you were wearing, running your fingers through your wet folds before starting to rub circles on your clit.
“You’re touching yourself as I’m fucking your mouth?” Noah huffed in disbelief. “Shit baby that’s the filithiest, hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.” You moaned around his length, your own release almost embarrassingly close. The added vibration made Noahs breath hitch.
“Fuck - oh my… baby, I’m so close. Gonna let me paint the back of your throat? Gonna be a good girl and swallow it all?”
You nodded enthusiastically, trying to get a “yes” out. And that did it for Noah. Hot, heavy ropes of cum landed on your tongue. As you swallowed, Noah’s cock still in your mouth, the coil in your own core snapped and your orgasm washed over you. Noah hissed slightly as he pulled his wet cock out of you.
He collapsed next to you on the bed, chest heaving with heavy breathing. His hair clung to his sweaty forehead. Noah’s arms pulled you into him, your head tucked under his.
“Are you okay baby? That was… quite intense.”
You giggled. “I’m more than okay.”
“My perfect, beautiful girl. You did so good for me.” He placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “So good.”
You looked up at him. “Are you still feeling stressed?”
Noah let out a soft laugh. “How could I? But if this is the treatment I’m gonna get whenever I tell you I’m stressed out… Well, let’s just say I might let you know a bit more often.”
AN: In honour of the festival season officially starting, here's a little meet-cute! As usual, English isn’t my first language. And shout out to the lovely @copper-locks, for encouraging me to finish this when I felt like deleting it! <3
AN2: I just realised that it’s a bit reminiscent of the festival chapter of @runningincircl3s “who are you?”-series (read it if you haven’t!!!) so I wanna give her some credit. <3
Warnings: This is mostly fluff. Brief mentions of alcohol, a few swear words. MDNI. I slightly describe the reader’s appearance, so if you’re not already a tattooed alt baddie… you are now!
Pairing: Noah Sebastian x F! reader.
Words: 5.1 K
Sitting at the lounge of the bus you tried to angle your face to get the best lighting. Applying makeup on a tour bus really was not for the faint of heart. A slight movement in your peripheral vision made you look over.
”You’re staring, you know.”
”I’m not!”
You lowered the mirror in your hand, meeting Noah’s gaze. He was half sitting on the sofa across from you, phone almost falling from his limp hands. He grinned when you looked over at him with one eyebrow raised. ”Okay, I might be... But who can blame me when I have my pretty girl with me on tour, huh?”
You huffed, focusing your attention back to the mirror. ”What do you think, is it a lipstick or no lipstick kinda day?”
”I think it’s a… whatever doesn’t get all over your boyfriend's face hours before he headlines a festival-kinda day.”
”No lipstick it is then!”
”No lipstick. You done? Wanna grab lunch somewhere?”
”You’re asking me on a date?”
Noah smiled at you. ”Am I asking the prettiest girl at this whole festival on a date? Fuck yeah I am.”
”Got any place in mind?” You stood, smoothing out the skirt of your dress. Noah mirrored you, but almost froze in place when he fully saw what you were wearing.
”Fuck baby that dress… I could just…” he reached out for you in the confined area, his long, tattooed fingers skimming the hem of your dress where it met your thighs.
”Don’t even think about it Noah. I’ve just done my hair and makeup. And I’ve got a pair of biker shorts and panties underneath!” You laughed as you playfully swatted his hand away.
”Cockblocked by my own girlfriend…unbelievable.” he huffed as you made your way through the front lounge of the bus.
Noah squeezed past you to exit first, his hand reaching for yours as you stepped down. The soles of your boots met the gravel outside and you squinted up at the sun, letting the rays warm your face and body. The atmosphere around the buses was electric. There really was nothing that came close to the feeling of festival season. ”Did you have a place in mind? Or are we going to the catering tent?”
Noah gave you a mischievous look ”There’s this one place… it’s outside the grounds though.” He glanced down at his phone. “There’s an uber picking us up at the back entrance in 15 minutes.”
As the driver pulled up right next to one of the smaller entrances of the shopping mall you used to work at, Noah pulled on a hoodie and a cap, sunglasses already perched on his nose. He was now wearing a pair of shorts, long tattooed legs exposed, paired with a black hoodie - tattoos on his neck and hands spilling out of it. The icing on the cake was the fact that both the cap and hoodie were Bad Omens merch. You couldn’t help but giggle.
”What?”
”Oh, nothing, nothing!” You snorted.
”Whaaaat?”
”Your little ensemble…” you said, making a swirling motion with your pointer finger in his general direction. ”It’s giving… Clark Kent. Very anonymous!”
”Oh shut up.” He mumbled as he got out of the car, walked around it to open the door for you. ”You still think that coffee shop is still there?” He said, taking your hand in his. Oh how you loved the feeling of your own hands disappearing in his big ones. ”Can you believe it’s been two years already?”
”No…” you admitted, “I honestly can’t. Marie is still mad at you, you know. She’ll never forgive you for whisking me away.”
Noah smiled. ”That’s a price I’m willing to pay.”
—--
You rubbed small circles with your right hand at your lower back. Re-filling a display case certainly wasn’t ergonomic. You stood up, admiring your work. You were just about to turn around and go on your lunch break when he caught your eye, standing by the men’s perfume section of the store looking a little unsure. He was tall, very tall. Dark hair falling into his brown eyes. He had a little crease between his eyebrows from furrowing. He was casually dressed in a pair of black jeans and a black hoodie paired with plain white vans. A bit warmly dressed for the scorching heat outside, you thought. He was heavily tattooed, judged by the fact that both his hands and neck seemed to be covered in ink. Your mouth went dry. He was, hands down, the most attractive man you had ever seen in your life.
Crouching down to glance in the mirror by the lipstick display you wiped away a bit of eyeliner that had smudged under your eyes. Standing up straight you began to walk over to him. But Marie, your boss, looked to be a few steps ahead. ”Marie!!” You all but yelled, making her stop in her tracks. She slowly turned to face you, evidently enraged by you yelling inside her store. But hey, desperate times call for desperate measures! You jogged up to her, flashing your most innocent smile. ”I thought maybe I could help the customer by the fragrance section?”
Marie lifted a well-manicured eyebrow at you. ”Why? Aren’t you supposed to go on your lunch break?” She glanced over at him. ”Or does this have anything to do with the fact that Mr. Tattoo over there looks like the man of your dreams?”
”Oh!” You blushed. ”I just… We don’t get all that many, you know, male customers so uh… I thought it’d be good practice?”
”Practice?”
”Yeah! You know. Men’s perfume… cologne… practice!”
Marie shot you a most unconvinced look, obviously seeing right through you. ”He’s all yours.” And she walked away.
You took a deep breath before approaching him, steadying yourself.
”Hi! Are you just browsing or do you need any help today?”
He turned to face you and oh my god. He was even more beautiful up close. You flexed your knees to make sure you wouldn’t just collapse at the spot.
”I think I could use some help actually. I forgot my usual cologne at home and thought I might as well try something new. I’m just not sure where to start.”
Oh… even his voice was beautiful. You told yourself to pull it together. He’s just another customer. The most handsome, gorgeous, beautiful man you had ever laid eyes upon - but still just a customer.
”What are you usually drawn to? That’s usually a good place to start. Do you like muskier, heavier scents or are you more of a fresh, citrusy kinda guy?”
”I’d say I’m more of a fresh, citrusy kinda guy.” He smiled down at you. Okay, this was getting ridiculous! He even had perfect teeth!
”Oh! There’s this one…” you walked over to pick up a bottle and a test strip. ”It’s actually my favorite. It’s very citrusy and fresh, but still has that manly kind of depth.” You sprayed the test strip, wafting it in the air before handing it over to him. He lifted it to his nose and inhaled.
”It’s actually the male version of my most used perfume! I’m wearing it today!” His eyes shot up at you. Oh no… why would you say that?! You could’ve just told him you wanted to get matching tattoos and that you wanted to have his… ”Well… I did notice that you smelled amazing as you walked over. And this…” he wafted the test strip in the air, ”smells pretty damn good.”
You felt the heat creeping up your neck. You were most definitely blushing. Hard. ”Oh! Thank you! I- did you maybe want to try it on? It’s sometimes hard to get a good feeling for the scent without trying it on the skin! If you’d just… roll your sleeve up?”
He squinted a bit at you. ”I don’t even know your name and you’re already trying to get into my clothes?”
Your tummy did a flip and you were now certain you resembled a tomato more than a human. “I didn’t-“ He laughed softly under his breath as he started to roll his sleeve up. “I’m just kidding. I’d like to know your name though. I’m Noah, by the way.”
“I’m Y/N.”
“Y/N…” he said, like he was tasting it. “That’s pretty. Suits you.”
“Thanks.” You said with a small voice. You held the bottle out to him, hand shaking slightly. Noah sprayed his wrist once before bringing it up to his nose. “I think it’s pretty good. What do you think?” He held his wrist out to you, clearly wanting you to smell it. So you did. If you thought it smelled good in the bottle you were not prepared on how it would smell on him. It mixed perfectly with the scent of his skin. “It’s really good. And I’m not just saying that because I want to sell it to you.”
He let out a bark of a laugh. “You know what, that’ll do it! I’d like to buy one, please.”
“Great! I’ll just go ring that up for you!”
A few moments later you were standing by the register. “Are you a rewards club member?”
“I don’t know. Maybe?”
“I can check for you… phone number?”
Noah smirked. “You know, if you wanted my number you could’ve just asked.” You lifted your gaze from the computer in front of you, meeting his eyes. With great effort you prevented your jaw from falling open. “Have you had lunch yet?” He asked before you could say anything. You shook your head slightly. “Look… I’m not usually this forward, but I’d like to buy you lunch. If you want to?”
You could feel a grin spreading over your face as you put his bottle of perfume in a paper bag. ”Yeah, I’d love that.” He smiled back at you, your fingertips brushing his as you handed over the little bag.
”I’m just gonna go get my phone and my wallet.”
”Absolutely not.”
”Huh?”
”I mean, you can obviously go get your phone. But not your wallet. I said I wanted to buy you lunch, didn’t I?” Once again you felt the heat rushing to your face, and all you could do was nod. ”I’ll wait just outside.”
A few moments later you had quickly freshened up in the staff room, sent a very excited text to your best friend and stepped out of the store. He was leaning against a wall opposite, phone in his hand. He shot you a quick smile as he slid his phone into his jeans pocket.
”So… what’s good here?” he asked.
”Oh yeah, I just realised. You left your usual at home - you’re not from here? There’s this one coffee shop with really good sandwiches.” You pointed to your left and started making your way over.
”I’m from Richmond originally, but I’ve lived in Los Angeles for a few years now. You’re from here?” He fell into step beside you, a bit closer than a stranger usually would.
”Yeah. Born and raised.”
—--
”So,” you say, folding the paper napkin in half for no reason at all. “What brings you here?”
“The festival, mostly.”
“Really?” You glance out through the window. “You’re a little early, aren’t you? It’s only Wednesday, it starts on Friday.”
He shrugs. “Maybe.”
”Maybe?”
”Yeah. Are you going?”
You tilt your head slightly. “Why?”
“I don’t know. You look like someone who’d go.”
“That’s a surprisingly specific assumption.”
“I’m trying not to make any hasty conclusions. But the tattoos… the hair. The makeup. You kinda look like the target audience.”
You let out a breathy laugh. ”You’re not wrong… Well, for what it’s worth, I was planning to. Couldn’t get tickets, though.”
“Oh.”
You pick at a piece of lettuce sticking out of your sandwich. “Yeah. Sold out before I even had a chance. I do usually go with my best friend. She thinks it’s this band who’s headlining… Omens something. They apparently blew up on TikTok recently.”
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. I’ve heard of them… they’re okay. I could probably get you and your friends tickets. For Saturday, at least.”
You blink. “What?”
“Yeah. Two tickets. For Saturday.”
“How?”
He looks briefly uncomfortable, like he’s already regretting mentioning it.
“I sort of work there.”
“At the festival?”
“Kind of.”
“Kind of?”
“Yeah with… sound.”
“Sound?”
Noah shrugs again. “Microphones. Sound. Live stuff, you know.”
”That’s… I mean - that would be incredible. You don’t have to though!”
He smiles. ”Don’t worry about it. I want to.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket, ”I however need your phone number to make it happen.” He unlocks it and hands it over to you. You quickly save your number to a new contact and hand it back to him.
”Moment of truth.” he says, looking up at you. You feel your own phone buzz in your pocket and pull it out. There’s a new message from an unknown number.
You raise one eyebrow as you look up at his grinning face. ”Eggplant emoji? Really?”
He puts both hands up, palms facing you. ”Hey! It’s just my latest used one!”
”Do I even want to know?” you say as you save his number.
”Probably not, no.”
—--
Two days later, on Friday, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. A smile immediately crept across your face. You and Noah had been texting all through Thursday. He was funny, attentive and had a deeply sarcastic streak that you really appreciated.
Noah: I’ve got two tickets for you!
You: No way!
Noah: Yes way!
You: Oh my god! Thank you thank you thank you!
Noah: Could you send me a picture of yourself?
You furrowed your eyebrows and were just about to ask him why when he texted you again.
Noah: I realise that sounded creepy as fuck.
Noah: I’m not going to be able to meet you until later in the day. My buddy Bryan will meet you outside. I’m afraid he didn’t think that my description of you as ”the prettiest girl” would suffice.
The prettiest girl? Okay, goodbye! You could actually die right then and there. You sent him one of your favourite pictures of yourself. It was from a night out with your friends, you had been dancing all night and your hair looked a little messy, but your outfit and makeup looked really good. You had a drink in one hand, leaning against a balcony railing. Huge smile plastered on your face, eyes a little glazed over.
You: You’re making me blush.
Noah: Well that’s just wildly unfair. Good lord.
You: Stop it.
Noah: Mind you, I had a perfectly productive day until you sent me this.
You: YOU ASKED FOR IT!
Noah: I know. But still. You chose that photo. Dangerous decision.
—--
To say that your best friend was ecstatic that you had somehow met a guy that could get you tickets to a sold out music festival was an understatement. Makeup, clothes, shoes and jewellery was littered all over your small apartment on Saturday morning.
”Let me get this straight…” she said as she put on another layer of mascara, ”This super hot, tall, tattooed stranger comes in to buy cologne. You help him, and out of the blue he asks you out. You have been texting since then, he’s been super flirtatious and has managed to get us both tickets for today? And you still don’t really know what he does for work?”
You shrugged. ”Something like that. What do you think, dress or skirt? Or shorts? Or pants?”
”Dress or skirt for sure. Preferably short. But what do you mean? You haven’t asked him what he does for a living?”
”I mean not really. He said he works with microphones so I guess he’s like a sound engineer?”
”But aren’t you curious?”
”I mean yeah of course, but I guess we’ll find out today.”
You’d changed outfits four times already. The black dress felt like trying too hard. The band tee felt like trying too hard in the opposite direction. The skirt somehow managed to do both.
”I have nothing to wear!” you cried. Your friend threw her head back in hysterical laughter.
After forty minutes of changing outfits, you ended up right back where you started.
The black dress ultimately won.
It was simple enough not to look like you were trying too hard, which was ironic considering you’d spent nearly an hour deciding on it. Your wonderful friend had finally convinced you that the little black was the safest bet and that ”your ass also looks unreal in it”. You paired it with a pair of chunky platform Dr. Martens, more jewelry than should be allowed and a slightly smokey eye with winged eyeliner.
The festival grounds were already crowded by the time you arrived. Your boots kicked up little clouds of dust with every step. You’d spent thirty minutes curling your hair only for the wind to undo half of it before you’d even made it through the parking lot.
Sunglasses perched on top of your head, phone clutched a little too tightly in your hand.
Because despite telling yourself you were here for the music, there was a very specific reason you’ve had butterflies in your stomach all day.
”So…” your friend said beside you, ”where are we going?”
You opened your phone to the last text Noah had sent you. ”To entrance C. That’s the one furthest away, I think.” You looked up to scan the scene in front of you. There was a large printed map on a sign. You pointed at it. ”Looks like the one that’s gonna be closest to the main stage.”
A few minutes later you stood outside entrance C. It was much calmer than the other entrances to the festival area. You vaguely had time to notice that it was the VIP-entrance when you heard someone call your name.
A guy with shoulder-length hair, a beard, and tattooed arms waved at you nearby, a camera hanging from his neck.
”That must be the friend.”
You made your way over. ”Hi! You must be Bryan?” You shook his hand. ”This is my best friend Y/F/N.”
”Nice to meet you ladies!” He handed over two laminated passes. Two letters stood out to you: AA.
”Wait a minute… all access?” You shook your head. Your best friend's jaw dropped. ”He said he could get us tickets? This is something else.”
Bryan chuckled. ”They’re way better than tickets. Gets you backstage and all.” He winked. ”Noah is busy working for a few more hours. Meet me back here at 7 PM and enjoy the music.” And with that Bryan walked away, leaving the two of you standing with open mouths.
”Okay, Y/N… whoever this Noah guy is, I have a feeling he’s not just a sound engineer.”
You looked down at the all access pass in your hand. ”You know what? You might be right.”
Your friend let out a tinkling laugh. ”At least this means we won’t have to use porta potties this time!”
You just looked at her, and she looked back at you. ”Oh my god.” you said. ”Oh. My. God.” She repeated. And then you both burst out laughing. The kind of hysterical laughter that mostly resembles a pack of hyenas.
”Well… let’s go!” You pulled her with you by the hand as your laughter subsided.
You had been to this festival many times before, but this time it somehow felt a lot bigger.
Your first taste of what all access actually meant was how you could just enter every VIP area without anyone batting an eye.
”I swear I just saw Kellin Quinn.”
”No way!”
”Yes!!! Look over to your left!”
You practically swung your head sideways, and yup. There was the singer of Sleeping With Sirens, just lounging on a chair.
”Very subtle!”
You looked back at her, giggling.
”Holy shit.”
”I know. Holy shit.”
After watching the first set of the day, and after a beer or two, you had to visit the bathroom.
”You think there’s real toilets in the VIP-section?” you asked.
”I bet there is.”
And so there was.
“Y/N.”
“What?”
“There are mirrors in here.”
“Don’t.”
“I’m serious.”
”I’m texting Noah.”
You: Noah. This is insane. I’m at a festival and I’m standing in a toilet with running water AND mirrors?!
Noah: I absolutely love the fact that you seem most excited about the toilet situation.
You: You know how many times I’ve been able to wash my hands with warm water at a festival?
Noah: I’m gonna hazard a guess at none.
You: Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!
You: These passes are ridiculous, you know?
Noah: Only the best for you.
Noah: Now go watch a set and have fun! :)
”You’re blushing.”
”I’m not!”
”Oh you so are!”
”Actually shut up.”
The next few hours passed in a blur.
One minute you and your best friend were wandering between stages, the next you were squeezed into a crowd, singing along to songs at the top of your lungs. You bought overpriced drinks, took approximately two hundred photos you would never look at again and somehow ended up making friends with a group of girls who complimented you on your dress.
Every now and then your phone buzzed in your pocket.
Noah: Having fun?
You: The most!
Noah: Good.
You danced. You laughed until your stomach hurt. You got dust all over your newly polished boots and didn’t care.
Time was ticking down to the headliner of the day. ”They must be really popular,” you stated.
”Who?”
”Bad Omens. Everyone is wearing their merch.”
”They ARE really good. I can’t believe you haven’t checked them out yet!”
”Let’s see after their set. If they impress me I promise I’ll add them to my playlist.” You could practically hear your friend roll her eyes.
At some point you completely forgot about checking the time. The sun slowly began to sink lower in the sky, painting everything gold. Before you knew it, your phone read 6:42 PM.
“Shit,” your friend said, glancing at the screen.
“What?”
“We have to meet Bryan in eighteen minutes.”
Your stomach immediately filled with butterflies.
”Okay, let’s go!”
Bryan stood just where he said he would be. He grinned at the sight of the two of you. ”You ladies had fun so far?”
”So much fun!” You said in unison.
He laughed. ”Good. Ready?”
“Ready for what?”
Bryan grinned.
“Noah told me to bring you backstage.”
Your friend looked sideways at you. Backstage?
”Like… backstage-backstage?”
”What other backstage is there?”
”Like… where all the bands are?”
”…Yes?”
Before you knew it you were right in the middle of it. You had gone past security, showing your passes. There were crew members and security all around you. Band members from acts you’ve danced to earlier in the day all nodded at Bryan like they knew who he was.
You walked past a large line up poster. The name Bad Omens was printed in large letters on it. Your friend did a small double take before typing something on her phone.
”I just googled them.” she whispered, ”The singer of Bad Omens is called Noah.”
You just looked at her.
“Lots of people are called Noah.”
“Y/N.”
“It’s a common name.”
“Y/N.”
”It’s very common actually.”
”Yeah, and every Noah can get you all access passes at festivals? It’s him, I know it.”
Wait, what? That just couldn’t be possible…
Or..?
No.
No way.
Absolutely not.
I sort of work there… microphones… I’ve heard of them… they’re okay.
Before you could even wrap your head around the possibility that Noah could be the lead singer of the headlining act, and not a sound engineer, you had come to a stop.
”We’re here.” Bryan stated, pointing to a door with a piece of paper on it. BAD OMENS.
Bryan opened the door and you realised you were in a dressing room. There were a few people in there, and they all looked like rock stars. Bryan pointed them all out to you, introducing them with names and what instrument they played in the band. This was them. The headlining band, just lounging like this was no big deal. Noah was nowhere to be seen. You felt your heart drop for a second.
Then you heard a door to an adjacent room open. He was wearing black jeans, a black tank top, and a silver chain resting against his chest. For the first time you realised just how heavily tattooed he was. A pair of in-ear monitors hung loosely around his neck, the cables disappearing down his back. His attention was fixed on a piece of paper in his hand.
“I still think we should swap Just Pretend and Miracle,” he said as he walked in. “The transition would work way better if we—”
He stopped as his brown eyes spotted you.
For a second, neither of you said anything.
A smile spread across his face.
“Hey.”
You stared at him. The same man you’d had lunch with. The same man who’d spent three days texting you. The same man who was apparently headlining one of the biggest festivals in the country.
“You lied.”
“What?” Noah laughed.
“You absolutely lied.”
His smile widened, arms crossed over his chest.
“I did not.”
“You told me you worked with microphones!”
“I do work with microphones.”
“You neglected to mention the part where you’re the one singing into them!”
He had closed the distance to you, one large hand gently holding your wrist. “I genuinely thought you knew.”
“How would I know?”
Noah opened his mouth, then closed it again.
“You know what? That’s fair.”
A knock sounded on the door.
“Ten minutes,” someone called from outside.
He gave you an apologetic look.
”You should go.”
”I should.”
There was a small silence.
”You wanna watch from side stage or front of house?”
”I- I don’t know.”
”I’d recommend front of house. Sounds better over there.”
”Okay.”
He gave you a look.
”You okay?”
”I’m a little bit shocked.”
At that, he pulled you into him, wrapping his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin. He was wearing the cologne you had helped pick out. You felt like your heart was about to burst, and you could swear you felt his lips ghost over the top of your head.
”I’ll see you after, yeah?”
You smiled at him. ”Yeah.”
He gave your shoulder a little squeeze before walking away, putting his in ear monitors in.
You turned around to find your friend gawking at you. ”Well…”
”Yeah.”
Her expression changed into the biggest grin you’d ever seen. ”I TOLD YOU!!!”
One moment you were standing backstage with your best friend, the next you were being led to front of house. Standing in front of mixing tables and laptops you watched as the lights suddenly illuminated the stage.
The other members, who you now knew as Folio, Nick and Jolly, walked out on stage. The crowd erupted as a heavy guitar riff was accompanied by a bass line and drums.
And then Noah walked out. The crowd went, if possible, even more wild.
And you almost didn’t recognise him as the guy you had lunch with only a few days ago. And the sound he made as he lifted the microphone to his mouth made your jaw drop. Gone was the sweet man you had gotten to know. This man was something else. The way he commanded the stage was mesmerising. How he went from sounding like a demon to singing like a siren was unbelievable.
The crowd knew every word. Thousands of voices sang back at him. And all you could think about was how he’d been sitting across from you in a coffee shop three days ago.
You could’ve swore he was looking at you more often than not, and you couldn’t peel your own gaze away from him. Beside you, your friend just had to take one look at your face to realise how gone you truly were for this man.
Their set ended and you felt rooted to the spot.
”I think you might have to add them to your playlist.”
You just looked at her and she could do nothing but laugh at the way your eyes sparkled.
Bryan appeared beside you with a grin.
“Come on. Rockstar’s waiting.”
Noah was leaning against a wall inside the dressing room. The rest of the band was nowhere to be seen. Bryan gave your best friend a look. ”Wanna grab a beer?”
”Yup!”
And just like that you and Noah were alone. You closed the door behind you, the ringing in your ears growing louder as you turned to face him.
He had both of his hands behind his back, shoulder blades resting against the wall. His tank top was clinging to his sweaty skin, wet strands of hair hanging down his face. Chest heaving with heavy breathing, adrenaline still pumping in his veins. A grin spread over his face as he looked at you. You felt your mouth go dry.
”So?” He said, pushing himself off the wall.
”Noah…” you started, ”I think that was the best live performance I’ve ever seen.”
He had made his way over to you, standing almost impossibly close.
”Yeah?”
”Yeah.”
He moved even closer, forcing you to take a step back until you were pressed against the door. He placed a hand next to your head, the other gently pressing against your hip; caging you in with his body.
You looked up at him, swallowing slightly. His pupils were blown wide.
”I didn’t tell you how absolutely gorgeous you look tonight, did I?”
”You didn’t.”
”I’m telling you now.”
The hand beside your head moved to gently grip your chin, tilting your face towards his. ”May I?” he asked. You nodded.
Noah’s lips found yours. They were surprisingly soft against yours, his grip on your hip tightening a little. He kissed you softly, reverently, like he wasn’t entirely sure whether this was real either.
You felt like you could’ve stayed in that moment forever. The warmth of his hand against your hip, the faint scent of cologne you’d helped him pick out days earlier. The way he smiled against your lips when you instinctively moved closer.
When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours.
”Hi.” He mumbled, fingertips trailing over your jaw.
”Hi.”
”I’ve wanted to do that since the coffee shop.”
”Noah, that was three days ago!”
”Longest three days of my life. I’ve been suffering.”
One shot Noah Sebastian x ofc rating: explicit | warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex, anal sex, period-typical awkwardness, one night stand, strangers to roommates to lovers.
Hiiii.
Ok so this one is for @choillysblog who wrote my favorite fic of the entire year and i felt morally obligated to deliver something at her level. I hope i did, babe. you deserve the world. 💕
Fun fact!! some things in this fic actually happened to me irl (sadly NOT with noah, it was with some other guy) guess which ones lmaooo. Drop your guesses in the notes or in my ask, i WILL be unhinged about it.
I split the post into two parts because Tumblr and long posts aren't always the best combination, so hopefully it's easier to read this way. Enjoy!
Also, yes, I made the graphics in Canva. The images came from Pinterest, and I genuinely have no idea who the original creators are, otherwise I would have credited them. And one last thing: English isn't my first language, so if you spot any mistakes, no you didn't 😭
If you read this whole thing first of all thank you, second of all please reblog/comment if you liked it, it genuinely makes my whole week. Tell me your favorite line, your favorite scene, scream at me, whatever i live for it.
Kisses from your local ficwriter who clearly needs therapy but chose smut instead 🖤
Part one: the hot mistake
It was Di's fault.
Not entirely. You had said yes, after all, no one had threatened you with death, but the distribution of responsibility was at minimum sixty-forty, and you were willing to go to court to defend that number.
— It's going to be amazing — she had said — Like four bands, I know the people there, there'll be a lounge area, it's gonna be a good night.
— How much is the ticket?
She had said the price with the speed of someone who knows she's about to cause damage.
You had stared at her for five full seconds.
— Di…
— It's cheap for four bands.
— I'm in the red on my credit card.
— You're always in the red on your credit card.
Technically true. Completely irrelevant to her argument. But you went anyway because you were twenty years old, it was Saturday night in Los Angeles, and there was a limit to how many nights in a row you could stand staying in the apartment listening to your neighbor fight with her boyfriend through the drywall.
The venue was smaller than you expected. One of those spaces that operate in a half-renovated warehouse, where half the renovation was intentional and half was simply giving up. High ceiling, brick walls, lighting that was clearly trying to make the place look cooler than the budget allowed. You had liked it as soon as you walked in. It had that energy of a place that still hadn't figured out its own size.
Di had disappeared in literally eight minutes. You had turned to comment on something and she was on the other side of the space hugging three people at once with the golden retriever energy that was her trademark in any social situation. She had shot you a smile from across the room, half apology, half you know how I am, and you had responded with a magnanimous gesture because it wasn't the first time and it wasn't going to be the last.
You knew how to be alone in places like that. You had your system: a drink in your hand to have something to do with your fingers, strategic position with a view of the stage and the crowd, expression of a person who is exactly where she wants to be. It always worked.
The first band was good. Genuinely good, a guitarist who knew what he was doing, a short, well-executed set, the kind of thing that makes you think okay, this might be worth it. You had walked out of there with your mood lifted and the financial guilt slightly relieved.
The second band had gone up and you had been excited for exactly forty-five seconds, until the sound in the speakers exploded at a volume that involuntarily reorganized your thoughts. It wasn't even a question of style, you gave up personal preference easily when the execution was good. It was that you physically couldn't distinguish guitar from vocals, bass, drums, anything. Everything arrived as a compact wall of frequency that hurt behind the eyes.
You had stayed staring at the stage with the expression of someone doing mental math about how much that had cost per minute.
When the second band came down, Di had reappeared with two drinks and the absolutely clean conscience of someone who wasn't there to listen.
— Are you enjoying it?
She had disappeared again before you could elaborate. You had taken the drink and decided to explore. There was a side hallway that led to an area in the back of the venue, not exactly signposted as forbidden, but clearly not the main space. One of those areas that exists in every small venue, a kind of limbo between backstage and nowhere, with a long couch leaning against the wall that had seen too many things to tell and a lamp on the ceiling flickering with a slightly disturbing cadence.
You had sat down because your feet were asking for it and the third band hadn't started yet and you needed five minutes away from the noise.
You were on your phone when you heard footsteps.
The boy who appeared at the entrance was tall in a way that seemed slightly inconvenient. One of those lanky ones who were still finishing understanding their own extension, shoulders slightly curved inward like someone who grew up too fast and hadn't made peace with the ceiling yet. Dark hair, black t-shirt, skinny jeans. He saw you, stopped for exactly half a second with the expression of someone who wasn't expecting an audience, and then made the universal movement of ignore, I have an objective here toward the boxes stacked in the corner.
He stood near the boxes long enough for it to become evident that he had no objective at all.
Then he turned.
You looked at each other.
— Hey — he said.
— Hey.
— You hiding from the noise too?
— More or less. My feet are calling for help.
He looked at the couch, looked at you. Made a slightly interrogative gesture toward the empty space. He sat down, left generous space, elbows on knees, sat looking forward for a few seconds before turning slightly in your direction with the expression of someone who wants to start a conversation but is calculating the approach.
— You liking the bands?
— The first one was good — you said, on autopilot.
— And the second?
You looked at him. He had an open expression, curious, with no sign that he was expecting a specific answer.
You had paid for the ticket. You were in the red. Honesty was the least you deserved.
— The second one I thought was shit, honestly.
He blinked.
You saw the exact moment he considered speaking and decided to speak anyway.
— I'm the vocalist of the second band.
The silence had texture.
You felt the heat rising in your face before any rational thought arrived, and your brain offered, in a completely useless way, a replay of everything you could have said in place of what you said.
— I… — you started.
— No, please continue — he said, and there was something in his voice that was containment with great effort — I accept the feedback.
— I didn't know…
— Clearly.
— In my defense — you reorganized — the sound was blown out. I literally couldn't hear almost anything you guys played.
— That's... technically true — he said, with a calm honesty you weren't expecting — I couldn't even hear myself up there. I was basically screaming into the void and hoping for the best.
— That's horrible.
— It was genuinely one of the worst sonic experiences of my life — he said, with the seriousness of someone being completely honest — and I was participating in it.
You tried not to laugh. It didn't work.
He heard it and something in his face changed, came out of that slightly hunched posture and turned into something else, lighter, more real.
— So technically — you said, when the laughter passed — you also think it was shit.
— I think the sound was shit — he said — The band is good. Important distinction.
— Really?
— I'm legally obligated to say yes.
— Legally?
— I signed a document. I can't elaborate.
You laughed again, and this time he laughed with you, and something in the space between you two changed address without warning.
He had leaned back on the couch, his shoulders finally at peace with gravity. You had lowered your phone at some point without noticing. The lamp continued flickering on the ceiling with its cadence of mild psychological terror and neither of you commented because there were more interesting things happening.
— How did you get in here? — he asked — This area isn't open to the public.
— The door was unlocked — you said — I'm not an intruder. I'm opportunistic.
— That's somehow more concerning.
— Or more honest.
He looked at you with a smile that arrived slowly, from the corner to the center, and there was something in it that was different from the previous smiles, less contained, perhaps more comfortable.
The conversation went to places that venue conversation doesn't normally go. Bands you both had seen, the absurd price of rent in LA which generated a tangent of disproportionate joint indignation, the crowd up front, the questionable architecture of the venue.
— Who puts exposed pipe up there — he said, pointing at the ceiling with genuine aesthetic offense.
— Someone who ran out of money for drywall.
— Or someone who watched too many YouTube videos of lofts.
— Same thing.
He let out a laugh that was more sound this time, real, and you felt that in your chest in a way that was useful information you preferred to ignore for now.
He was funny. Not in the way that tries to be funny, in the way that observes things from a slightly crooked angle and says what it sees without ceremony, and you laugh before realizing you were going to laugh. It was the most dangerous kind. You knew that. This type of funny guy was the one that joke by joke when you noticed you were already without panties.
You stayed anyway.
At some point you had turned more in his direction. At some point he had gotten closer. The geometry of the couch had shifted configuration without either of you consciously managing it.
He was in the middle of an observation about the first band's setlist when he stopped.
Not because he finished the reasoning. Because you were looking at him in a way that wasn't just listening anymore, and he had noticed, and when you lifted your eyes from the place where they had landed without permission he was looking back at you with an expression that didn't have anything shy left in it.
The lamp flickered.
— That lamp is really something — he said, looking up, and his voice had dropped a tone for no apparent reason.
— Ignore the lamp — you said.
He brought his eyes back to you.
The smile that appeared was quiet and completely sure of itself, and it was the first time that night you had seen that smile, and it was exactly then that you understood you had stayed too long on this couch.
The kiss happened in the space between that word and the next flicker of the lamp. Organic the way those things are when neither one of you is pretending you don't want it, without ceremony, without announcement, just the logical continuation of everything that had been said and unsaid in the last forty minutes.
He kissed with attention. Not the performative attention of someone who is aware they're being evaluated, but that of someone who is genuinely interested in what's happening, slow where it should be slow, deeper when you responded in a way that asked for it. His hand went to your face first, then to your hair, and the contrast between that careful gesture and the mouth that wasn't being careful at all caught you off guard in a very good way.
You put your hand on his chest, feeling his breathing accelerate under your fingers, and he came closer as a natural response, his whole body leaning in your direction.
When you stopped to breathe he stayed looking at you for a second with an expression that was hard to categorize.
You laughed against his mouth and he took the moment to pull you in for good, his hand going down to your hip with a firmness that wasn't shy at all, and you went, with no resistance whatsoever, until you ended up in his lap in a way that was clearly where the situation had been going for some time.
He was more solid than the thinness suggested. You felt that in your hands, in his shoulders, in the way he held you without apparent effort. And you felt something else too, when you settled in his lap, that made you stop for half a second.
He noticed that you noticed, and let out that low laugh, more in the chest than in voice, and his mouth went to your neck with an intention that ended any additional processing in progress.
His hand found the way to your thigh, going up slowly under your skirt, and you let it, with your fingers in his hair and your head tilted to the side giving room to his mouth that was doing things on your neck that made it difficult to remember your own name. When his fingers got where they were going and found you already completely without patience for foreplay, he made a low sound of approval that went straight to your stomach.
He knew what he was doing. Not in the insecure way of someone who is trying to get it right, but in the way of someone who pays attention, to the sounds you were making, to the small ways your body had of saying yes, there, like that, and responded to that instead of executing a memorized sequence. His mouth continued on your neck while his fingers worked, and you let your head fall back and the sounds come out because the band up front was making enough noise to cover it and the couch had seen too many things to care.
You came right there, in his lap, with your fingers closed on his t-shirt and your breathing completely undone, and he stayed with you until the end before pulling his hand up and hugging you with a naturalness you weren't expecting from someone who didn't know your name.
You stayed like that for a second that was just breathing.
— Hi — he said, again, his mouth in your hair.
— Stop — you said.
— I'm just saying hello.
— You're horrible.
— You just made a sound on my shoulder that suggests the contrary.
You were going to answer but he kissed you first, and the answer became irrelevant.
At some point the geometry of the couch stopped being enough and you migrated to the back wall. You were on your knees before you had consciously made the decision. It was more a natural consequence of the situation, his hand in your hair, you looking up, and the logic of the moment leading to an obvious place.
You had started to work his pants when he put his hand on your shoulder.
— You don't have to…
— I know. — You looked at him from below, with all the calm in the world — At least let me touch you.
You didn't wait for an answer. You put your hand on him over the fabric and the sentence died in his throat before it came out.
It was a lot. You already knew since his lap, but with your hand you had a more precise dimension of the size of the problem, and the problem was considerable, the kind that requires respect and planning.
You worked slowly, feeling him get harder under your fingers, hearing his breathing lose the constant rhythm he had maintained until now.
You opened his pants.
When you put your hand on him for real he let out a low and involuntary fuck that escaped before it could be held back, and you smiled before you could stop yourself.
He looked at the ceiling with the expression of someone asking for patience from a higher entity, and you found that so funny and so good at the same time that you made an executive decision.
Just the tongue first, light, just the tip, just to see, and the sound that came out of him was longer and deeper than the previous one, his hand closing in your hair without pulling, just holding as if he needed an anchor.
Fuck it, you thought.
And you did, for real.
He went very quiet in a way that was clearly active effort, his hand in your hair firm but without pressing, his breathing going down and up in a rhythm you were controlling without him having given permission for it. You weren't going to be able to take it all, it was obvious you weren't going to, it was too big to pretend otherwise, but what you could do you did well, and the sounds he was emitting were sufficient confirmation of that.
You tried to go deeper, gagged once, tried again and gagged again.
— Wait — he said, after a while, his voice completely unrecognizable — You don't have to… — he stopped. Started again. — It's a lot.
You took your mouth off for exactly one second.
— I know what I'm doing — you said.
— I'm not doubting it, I just…
— Relax.
— I'm trying to…
— I know. — You ran your thumb over him once, slowly, with intention, and the argument died right there. — Let me continue.
He went quiet.
You went back to what you were doing, at your pace, the way you wanted, and his hand in your hair was the only language available to him, how much he tightened when you did something right, how much he loosened when you slowed down on purpose because you had discovered that you liked the sound he made when you took away what he wanted before giving it back.
When he got close you felt it before he spoke, the tension different, the breathing different, the wait, wait, wait low that was honest warning.
He stayed with his eyes closed for a moment, his hand in your hair now just resting, his breathing coming back slowly. He threw his arm over his eyes and stayed like that for a few seconds.
— Give me a second.
— Am I in a hurry?
— No — He took his arm off his face and really looked at you, with an expression that was a lot of things at once — You're a problem.
— I know — you said.
He pulled you back up with his hand on your arm, and when you got to the level of his face he kissed you in a way that was different from all the previous ones, quieter, deeper, the kind of kiss that says something without being able to put it into words yet.
He turned you with your back to the brick, his hands on each side of your head, and the height difference that on the couch was irrelevant now became evident in a way that was completely inconvenient for your nervous system. His lips came back to yours while his fingers went back to between your legs, pushing your underwear aside just enough to be able to slide two fingers into you. And the bastard knew well what to do with those long fingers.
And it was there, in that kiss, leaning against the wall with your knees still weak, that you felt it.
It wasn't dramatic. It was that familiar and absolutely traitorous sensation, a low and discreet cramp that your body chose the worst possible moment to announce.
No.
Not now.
For the love of everything that is sacred, not now.
You stayed quiet for a second, hoping very much that you were wrong.
You weren't wrong.
He felt you stop. His fingers that were practically buried inside you also stopped.
— Is everything okay? — His voice low, his mouth still close to yours.
— I think I… — you started, and didn't finish because there was no elegant way to finish that sentence.
You pulled away a little. Looked at him. He was looking at you with that whole attention turned toward you, no rush, genuinely asking.
— I think I got my period — you said, with the voice of someone delivering bad news at a board meeting.
He blinked.
You saw the processing happen in real time.
— Ah.
— Yeah.
Short silence.
— Are you okay? — he asked, and the tone was real care, not the embarrassment disguised as politeness you were expecting.
— I am, it's just… — you looked at his hand, which had landed on your thigh, and didn't need to finish.
He looked too. A small stain on the tips of his fingers. He stayed looking for a second with no readable expression, then lifted his eyes to you with a calm you definitely didn't deserve.
— Relax — he said, simply.
— I'm so sorry…
— It's okay — Firm, gentle — It happens. It's happened before. I don't care at all.
You had already grabbed a tissue from inside your purse before he finished, passing it to him without being able to look directly, and he cleaned his hand without drama while you died inside on a level that went beyond cellular, reaching molecular.
I wanted it so much, you thought, looking at the couch in front of you. I wanted so much to give it up for this man and my uterus decided to sabotage me at the worst possible time of my entire life.
You stayed in silence for a few seconds doing the bitter calculations of the universe conspiring against you, and that's when the idea appeared. It was a slightly insane idea. It was an idea you would normally save for another occasion, with someone you knew better, in less improvised circumstances.
On the other hand: decommissioned green room. Los Angeles. Tall and funny stranger who had just made you come for the second time against a wall using only his fingers.
— I have an idea — you said.
— Go ahead — he said, with the tone of someone who is genuinely willing to listen but reserving judgment.
You said the idea. The silence that followed had a very specific texture.
— Are you… — he started — Sure?
— I'm very sure.
He ran his hand through his hair. Looked at the ceiling. Looked back at you with an expression that was clearly doing its own calculations.
— I've never done it that way… — he stopped — I mean, it's not that I object, I just want to be sure that you…
— I want to — you said, with a clarity that cut his sentence in half. — I just want you to fuck me. That's all I want right now.
He stayed looking at you for a second with an expression that was a lot of things at once.
— Okay — he said. — But I'm going to use a lot of saliva.
— I know.
— No, for real — He made a pause, slightly mortified with himself — A lot. An embarrassing amount.
— That's fine.
— And I'll go slow. Very slow.
He stopped.
You looked at him.
— Fuck me — you said.
He closed his eyes for exactly one and a half seconds with the expression of someone making peace with an important decision.
— I have a condom — he said.
— Of course you do.
— I'm a responsible adult.
While he went to his wallet you repositioned yourself on the couch, and when he came back there was something different in the way he moved, more focused, more present, that whole attention concentrated on you in a way that made it hard to breathe properly.
He used his fingers first, slowly, with a patience that bordered on cruel, preparing carefully, his voice low and his eyes on you every second, asking and listening to the answer before continuing. His mouth stayed on your neck, on your shoulder, on your ear, keeping you present in your whole body while he opened you up with an attention that was almost irritating it was so good. You had your hands on his shoulders and your face buried in his neck, waiting for your body to give in layer by layer.
And he really kept the promise, every now and then spitting on his own fingers, sliding better to continue stimulating you. When he finally entered it was so slowly that you held your breath and stayed like that.
— Is everything okay? — he asked, his voice completely hoarse, and you felt the effort it was being to hold the rhythm.
— Keep going — you said against his skin — Don't stop.
He didn't stop.
It was slow. It was deep. It was with that attention he had in everything, his hand anchored on your hip, his mouth alternating between your neck and your shoulder, and you went relaxing until you reached a point where it wasn't discomfort anymore but something else entirely, a dense and full sensation that climbed up your spine and left you with your head completely empty.
And then the switch flipped. The shy boy who had just said he had never had sex like this had now assumed the posture of the man who was willing to make you come one more time before having his own relief.
It was a specific and identifiable moment, the rhythm changed, the hand on your hip tightened with that pressure he always got right, and a sound came out of his chest, low and involuntary, that went straight to your stomach.
— Touch yourself — he said, low, his mouth in your ear.
It wasn't an order or a request, it was the exact middle ground between the two, the voice of someone who knows what they're asking and why.
Your hand went down without hesitation, and when you started he deepened the rhythm at the same time, as if the two movements were part of the same thing — and they were. Everything connected, everything building together at a frequency that had no parallel with anything else.
You touched yourself and he moved and the sensation multiplied in a way that left you with your head absolutely empty of any useful thought, dense and constant and growing without pausing. You heard your own breathing turn into something else, louder, less controlled, and your free hand went to his back because you needed to hold onto something.
— That's it, just like that… — he said, more to himself than to you, his voice completely undone.
You came with a sound you would never describe to anyone, your fingers leaving marks on his back that he would feel tomorrow, your whole body tightening around him, and he came right after with God's name in his mouth and his hands on you as if he needed to hold onto something.
You stayed quiet for a while that was just breathing and heartbeat coming back to normal.
The lamp flickered.
He lifted his head. Looked at you with a soft and slightly stunned expression, like someone who didn't expect the night to be like this.
— I really wanted to have fucked you the normal way too.
The mourning in the voice was genuine, measured and absolutely sincere.
You laughed first. He resisted two seconds before going along, and the two of you laughed on the old couch with the lamp flickering above as faithful witness to everything.
— I really need to go to the bathroom — you said, with the urgency of someone making an official statement.
He let out a laugh on your neck.
— Me too. Go first. — A pause — Meet me back here after?
— Sure — you said.
You went to the bathroom. You didn't come back.
It wasn't cruelty. It was more a question of you being sitting in the women's bathroom of the venue doing the balance of the situation and coming to the conclusion that if you went back you'd want to stay more, and wanting to stay more would make it harder to leave and especially to look back into the face of a very handsome stranger who had been the first person to enjoy this kind of unconventional pleasures.
In the Uber home you stayed with your head leaning against the window glass watching the lights of Los Angeles passing by, and your brain went cataloging the night with that specific honesty that only appears when you're alone and don't need to maintain any version of yourself for anyone.
You had let a stranger fuck you in the ass on a green room couch.
Without lubricant. Just the condom, a dream, and an amount of saliva he had promised and delivered without lying.
And it hadn't hurt at all. Like, not at all. It had gone in smoothly in a way you weren't expecting and that clearly said something about the care he had taken, about the irritating and wonderful patience he had in everything, about the fact that he had stayed inside you asking are you okay more times than anyone had bothered to ask in a long time.
You looked at the Uber ceiling.
You don't even know his name, you thought.
That was true.
And you're probably never going to see him again.
That was probably true too.
You stayed with this truth for a second, testing its weight, waiting to feel something that was regret.
Part two: whatsapp, after
you Di
Di i'm here i'm here what was it
you so do you remember when you said it was going to be a good night
Di yes???
you it was
Di TALK
you so i was in the back hallway right sitting on that old couch then a boy showed up very tall very hot very funny
Di CONTINUE
you we kept talking for like an hour then we hooked up, it was delicious but then i got my period in the middle
Di NOOOOOOOOOOOO HOW HORRIBLE POOR THING
you Diiiii LET ME FINISH
Di ok ok sorry talk
you so i was like it's fine but i wanted so much to fuck this man you know so i had an idea
Di what idea?????
you i let him do anal
Di YOU LET HIM DO WHAT???????? YOU LET A STRANGER DO ANAL JUST BECAUSE HE WAS HOT
you he was VERY hot in my defense
Di I DON'T EVEN DO THAT WITH MY BOYFRIEND
you but that's your problem
Di are you okay?? did it hurt??
you it didn't hurt at all he was very careful asked if i was okay like six times
Di oh my god i'm processing
you i'm in an uber going home btw i went to the bathroom and didn't come back
Di YOU GHOSTED HIM???
you i strategically withdrew
Di it's fine i love you but you're crazy
you i know
Di no, seriously stop for a second you went to a show that you complained a lot about the price of the ticket met a hot stranger got your period in the middle and the solution your brain found was to LET HIM DO ANAL
you when you put it like that it sounds crazy
Di BECAUSE IT IS CRAZY but you know what it's very feminist of you
you HOW IS IT FEMINIST???
Di you prioritized your own pleasure literally took it up the ass because you were horny that's feminism applied in practice
you D this has nothing to do with feminism
Di it has everything to do with it simone de beauvoir would be proud
you i'm going to kill myself
Di was it big?? was it or wasn't it just yes or no
you it was a lot
Di MY GODDESS and you left without his number? you're very fearless and very stupid at the same time it's a rare talent
you i know it was better this way it was just one night, you know
Di but his name at least you asked for?
you So…
Di YOU DIDN'T ASK FOR HIS NAME???
you we didn't ask each other's names
Di you let a nameless man do anal on a green room couch of a venue without lube
you he used a lot of saliva
Di I DON'T NEED THESE DETAILS
you you asked
Di i needed to know but i didn't need to KNOW you know i'm putting this in the category of things that only happen to you
you big category
Di very did you get home?
you just arriving now
Di go to sleep drink water take a shower and tomorrow you tell me everything in detail
you i already told you everything and you said you didn't need it
don’t let it in with no intention to keep it. jesus christ, don’t be kind to it. honey, don’t feed it; it will come back.
pairing: incubus!noah x f!reader
word count: 11.4k (?!&£ i got carried away)
warnings: 18+ mdni, nsfw content below the cut. smut, surprising amount of dark humour in lore sections, light prey/predator vibes, dom!noah, manipulation (i mean he's an incubus so,,, do with that what you will), choking, use of panties as restraints, p in v (unprotected but. he’s a demon so), fingering (f!receiving), overstimulation, mirror sex, no aftercare, light blasphemy
summary: when you move into a new city, the last thing you’re expecting is to find your apartment is haunted. especially when said occupant only wants one thing.
You were pretty sure your apartment was haunted.
Well, not necessarily haunted in the traditional sense. But there was most definitely something co-inhabiting the space with you.
It all started when you moved in a few months ago. The place wasn’t a Hilton by any means, but it was a roof over your head and heating and cheap enough that you could just about ignore the sounds of traffic from the busy street below. Moving to Los Angeles for your internship with the tech company had already drained your bank account enough just in flights and U-Haul fees, so the cheaper the better when it came to your accommodation, really.
Sure, there were a few broken floorboards, and there was a stain on the kitchen ceiling that you were sure had already started growing. Of course, the random power outages didn’t help, but they had advertised on the listing that the grid was temperamental, so you had known what you were getting yourself into. The family of cockroaches you had found overtaking one of your cupboards on the second day just added charm… And the constant banging of the boiler was easily drowned out by some music and good mindfulness practice.
So, it was okay. Or, at least, it was a home.
Except for the fact that it was fucking haunted.
The first week, you had simply attributed the slightly odd occurrences to being a part of the furniture; more charming oversights that the landlord had failed to mention. A draft under your bedroom door, the creaking of plaster every time the wind howled outside, the scratching you were convinced was coming from inside the walls…
Things didn’t get weird all at once. Not enough for you to become super suspicious; just aware.
It started small enough that you honestly attributed it to sleep deprivation and lack of a routine. You were still adjusting, after all, to the new city and new lifestyle, so it made sense that your brain would be sluggish in catching up.
When you woke up one day, and your book had shifted on the nightstand, you didn’t think much of it. You could have easily knocked it in your sleep, or simply misremembered where you placed it. You ran out of salt pretty quickly, too, in the first month, but you’d always had a bad habit of being overzealous with the condiment, so that wasn’t much cause for concern.
Of course, you were pretty fucking devastated to learn that your favourite blue panties weren’t anywhere in the house. That one took you a little longer to accept that you had probably left them back at your old place. If you thought about it long enough, you were certain you had a memory of unpacking them, but clearly not. Clearly that was another mystery that your tired brain had cooked up somewhere between long meetings and nights awake due to the sounds of sirens in the city.
Oh well. They would be a nice surprise for the new tenants in your old place.
Still, you went about your days only mildly plagued by the strange occurrences. There were some more simple changes to the exhaustion that had come with a shift of scene after all, the dreams being a big one.
You had always struggled with sleeping back in your old place, but work was so tiring and the climate in LA so different to what you were used to that most nights when you clambered into bed, you were asleep before your head hit the pillow.
It seemed as if your body was finally catching up with over twenty years of not dreaming, for now there was one weekly. They were never anything exhilarating, more mundane recounts of things that brought you a vague satisfaction and left you feeling well rested.
On one particularly long occasion, you had managed to lock yourself out of the apartment. After an hour of sitting in the hallway waiting for your landlord to rescue you, you practically fell into bed, only to dream about that very hallway. Except it was longer, with more doors than you could count. Behind each one was something different: a room filled entirely with darkness, one with a blazing fire, and another overtaken by small creatures you did not recognise as being an actual thing. They had sharp talon-like claws and beady red eyes, and they traversed walls as if able to stick to them.
Any other time, such a sight in your dreamscape may have scared you, but a weird sensation accompanied the vision that had you feeling rather… well, the opposite. When you woke with a stunted intake of breath, you were half expecting terror to rocket through your veins like it would any sane person.
What you were not expecting was the vague heat between your thighs that seemed to have established itself through the night. It wasn’t exactly unwelcome, a pleasant throbbing sensation that seemed to have woken you. You would accept way more wacky dreams if they came with such side effects. It was an easy fix after all, reaching your hand out to the top drawer of your nightstand where your vibrator—wasn’t?
You fumbled around in the drawer for a few more minutes before sighing and accepting that you’ll just have to use your fingers. That was an easy mistake to have made, really. You were a young woman living on her own; it could have literally been left anywhere in the house.
So you made do. It wasn’t exactly cause for concern.
The first occasion you really remembered thinking something was off was when you waltzed into the kitchen one day, clad only in an old shirt and an old pair of underwear you spared for lazy days.
The kitchen was cold. Not cold as in hey, we turned off the main building’s heating so now you’ll freeze for three days (as had happened once on only your third day of living there). One single spot was like walking on ice.
You thought you were going insane at first, for you’d always been pretty bad at regulating your temperature, and you weren’t exactly wearing much. That was until you walked through it again. And again. And again and again and again. The boiler was working fine (or as fine as the decades-old thing could be), and the rest of the space was a nice, homely temperature. But that one section by the counter that held your spice rack, about half a metre squared, was like you had been transported to Antarctica itself.
Of course, even then you had found some way to rationalise it when the initial confusion subsided. Maybe it was just your imagination or some faulty plumbing done way back when. Your house had random cold spots and the light flickered occasionally. So what? It was old.
That was until you couldn’t rationalise things anymore.
You had been there for just over two months when you first had the thought; the big oh shit moment.
It was nearing two in the morning by the time you got home from work, some big meeting with a rich client that your boss had wanted you to sit in on for your ‘education’. It was long and boring as hell, and when the door to your apartment finally gave way under the rusted key, all you wanted to do was fall into bed and go to sleep. Sitting in the same clothes in an office for fourteen hours, however, had made you feel rather unsanitary, so you sucked up the tiredness and moved to the shower.
The steam and warmth of the room were a big welcome after such a long day, and you accepted the water washing away any aches from hunching over a desk as if it was made of liquid gold. For a moment, you wondered why you had dreaded this at all, for it was exactly what your body and soul needed.
Until everything went black.
The lights and the shower snapped off all at once, leaving you soaking wet with shampoo running into your mouth, fumbling for a towel that you had not prepared in the dark. The damn breaker must have gone again, which would have meant you had to get on your hands and knees in a kitchen you hadn’t cleaned recently, whilst soaked through and frozen cold.
You were starting to regret a lot of things about this move, more than just the career choices.
Somewhere on the side, your hand found purchase on one of your towels, fluffy and welcoming as you wrapped it around yourself and stepped out of the shower. Now all you had to do was fumble your way out of the bathroom in the dark, because of course you had left your phone in the bedroom. Easy stuff, right? It wasn’t even like you’d bought one of those apartments with a glazed bathroom window to let in some light. Nope. Your bathroom had no windows and was perfectly pitch black.
By some miracle, you found the door handle on only your fourth attempt to grab into empty space.
At which time the lights came back on, and the shower burst into motion once more.
Not weird, though. Just faulty wiring.
Or at least, that would have been what you’d chalked it down to had it not been for the gigantic handprint on the bathroom mirror.
You bolted.
You had enough time to at least grab some clothes so as to not traumatise your neighbours, but then you were gone.
And when you returned the following day (after renting a somehow even creepier motel, where the threat was this time drunken students and rat infestations), it was with books on all sorts of crazy shit in hand.
The librarian had looked at you like you were insane when you first asked for the section on demonology. She more than likely didn’t get many young women coming in for ancient texts on ghosts and ghoulies. But crazy you supposed you had become.
Even as you tried to rationalise every occurrence away, you knew there was only one explanation for it. A sleepless night in the motel room, listening to partying in the room next door and deep diving on Reddit told you that doing some research wouldn’t exactly hurt.
So here you were, armed with five large books on anything that could be helpful, with two more Amazon parcels waiting outside the door.
Of course, there was still that tiny niggling part of your brain that told you it was all in your head. But if that part turned out to be right, then you would let it say I told you so at a later date. Better safe than sorry.
Apparently, there were a lot of ghost-type creatures that could inhabit a space, so the research proved to be more of a task than you had first expected.
The main book you had been recommended after a very quick Reddit search (slash beg) was called The Lesser Book of Solomon, an aptly terrifyingly titled collection listing seventy-two types of demons that ‘existed’ in the world. You weren’t entirely certain what you were dealing with, but that felt like a good place to start. It had been available on Amazon, too, which was a hilarious concept if you thought about it, so it was a no-brainer.
You spent the better part of the day hunched over the gigantic text on your sofa, suddenly hyper aware of every movement in your apartment. Every time you turned your head, you could have guaranteed something was watching you, but it disappeared before you could fully manifest an acknowledgement.
If you had been paranoid once before, you were practically vibrating with tension now.
The Lesser Key of Solomon was not exactly a light read.
For starters, it was old. Not old in the physical sense, considering it was an Amazon reprint, but the text seemed to radiate ancient knowledge to the point it felt like the pages might still disintegrate under your fingertips if you turned them too aggressively. The writing itself was dense and full of references to things you had never heard of in your life, and it assumed a baseline knowledge of the occult that you, a twenty-something tech intern whose most spiritual experience to date had been a guided meditation on YouTube, most certainly did not have.
Still, you persevered. Seventy-two whole demons, each with a name, a rank, a description, and an accompanying set of abilities that read less like a supernatural encyclopedia and more like the world's most fucked up Craigslist job ad. Duke of this, President of that, specialising in manipulation and deception and this and that and everything and nothing. It was like LinkedIn for the underworld.
The problem was that you had no idea what you were looking for.
You didn't have a name to search, or a clear set of symptoms to match. All you had was a cold spot, some missing belongings, a handprint on a mirror and a fucked up feeling. The book was vast, and the descriptions were vague enough to overlap in ways that offered absolutely no help to your cause. One demon could cause disruptions in the home. Great, so could thirty others. Another could manipulate the physical world. Wonderful, join the club. By the time you had gotten three-quarters of the way through, your eyes were burning, and you had about fifteen sticky notes marking pages that could be relevant but probably weren't.
So you moved on.
The second book was a more general text on hauntings; a modern one, mercifully, written in actual English and not some antiquated script that required a degree in theology to decipher. It covered everything from poltergeists to residual hauntings and sentient spirits; the whole lot. There were moments where you thought you were getting somewhere when you read about cold spots as a sign of spiritual presence and felt momentarily vindicated, but then the descriptions would fall short.
Nothing fit. Bits and pieces came close, enough to keep you reading at least, but nothing ticked every box. It was like trying to complete a jigsaw out of a flattened LEGO set.
And throughout it all, something in the apartment felt off. Like someone, or something, was taking great pleasure in watching you fall apart.
By eleven that night, your back ached from sitting in the same position for so long, and the words on the pages had started to blur into one incomprehensible mess. You were no closer to an answer than when you had started, and twice as frustrated. So you did the only sensible thing and gave up for the day, dragging yourself to bed where sleep claimed you embarrassingly quickly.
And with sleep came the dreams.
The water was warm. That was the first thing you registered; not where you were, or why, or how you had gotten there, but that the water surrounding you was warm. It wasn’t distinctive in that it was a bath or an ocean, but it felt personified in a way. It ebbed and flowed and curled around your limbs like it knew where it wanted to be.
You were drowning. You knew that, somewhere in the back of your mind. You were completely submerged, water filling every space around you, pressing in on all sides. It should have been terrifying. It should have sent panic searing through your chest and your arms flailing for a surface.
But it didn't.
If anything, it was the most peaceful you had felt in weeks. The water wasn't pulling you under so much as holding you there, cradling you in a way that mimicked a delicate touch. It moved across your body in slow waves that seemed to respond to your gurgled breaths, pressing closer when it hitched, and then easing off just enough to let you settle before starting again. There was a patient rhythm to it, like it had all the time in the world and intended to use every second of it.
You couldn't see anything. The water was dark and endless in every direction, and yet you were not afraid.
Most importantly, somewhere beneath the warmth and the pressure and the peaceful rocking of whatever this was, there was a heat building that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water.
You woke up at four in the morning, drenched in sweat with your heart hammering so hard you thought for a moment you were having a heart attack.
It took a long second for you to lie there staring at the ceiling, as you tried to figure out if you were still dreaming. Because the sensation between your legs was very much still present and very much not fading. The sheets were tangled around you like you'd been thrashing, and the room was clammy in a way that the shitty heating system in this building had never once managed to achieve.
Fuck.
Fuck.
You were out of bed before you had even made a conscious decision to move, feet hitting the creaky floorboards as you practically lunged for the stack of books on your coffee table. Because that wasn't just a dream. You didn't know how you knew, but you did.
The dreams were part of it. Whatever it was, the dreams were a part of it.
You called in sick to work at six thirty, which was early enough that you got your manager's voicemail rather than having to fake a cough in real time. Small mercies. Then you made the strongest coffee your limited supplies could handle and sat cross-legged on the living room floor with every single book spread open around you, because clearly the desk and the sofa were not providing the right energy for a breakthrough.
If the sensation of being watched before had been unnerving, now it was tenfold.
It took three more cups of coffee and a borderline unhealthy amount of cross-referencing before the identifiers first appeared.
Incubus/Succubus.
You had skimmed past them initially in the Lesser Key, buried somewhere between a demon that could summon storms and another that could turn water to blood. But now, hunched on the floor surrounded by open books like a student on a last-minute revision kick, the description hooked something in your brain and refused to let go. The words melded into one at first, but eventually you were able to piece together some of the basic descriptions. An incubus or succubus was a demonic entity that attached itself to a person, one that visited in the night and that manifested through dreams. Unlike a lot of the other ghoulies you had read about, these guys had the ability to manipulate the physical environment, and they usually chose a target and fixated on them with an obsession that bordered on devotion.
You read it again. And again. And then once more with your hand over your mouth because suddenly every odd occurrence since you had moved in was rearranging itself in your head like the most fucked up crossword solution you had ever seen. The cold spots, the missing items, the handprint, the dreams; God, the dreams. Those weren't just a symptom of stress or exhaustion or too much screen time before bed.
They were the demon’s fucking business card.
The more you read, the worse it got, because apparently, the feeding mechanism of an incubus was not unlike a feedback loop. In short, the thing drew strength from attention. You know, from the very act of someone lying in bed at night thinking about it, and especially from the particular brand of physical response that your dreams had been so generously providing.
Which meant that every time you had woken up flushed with that ache between your legs that had you reaching for your nightstand, you hadn't just been having a weird dream; you had been fucking feeding it.
Wonderful.
This time, when you went to the library, you daren’t ask the lady at the desk to show you to that specific section for fear that she might call the police on you. Which of course meant you spent far more time than you would have liked searching for books with either demon in the title or description, but it spared you a part of your dignity.
Armed with two new texts and your remaining pride, you made it back to the apartment in record time, ready to dive back into your studies. You were getting disturbingly good at this in a rather short time. Maybe if the tech thing didn't work out, you could have had a future in amateur demonology. Your heavily religious mother would be thrilled.
You propped the books under one arm and twisted the key in the door, shoulder barging it open. You missed the counter when you tried to toss the keys onto it, but you didn’t bother stopping to pick them up as you already had the goal of changing into something comfier in mind. So, getting to the bedroom was your first priority.
Which is when you stopped dead in the doorway.
Your blue panties were sitting on the bed. Neatly placed dead centre of the mattress, smoothed over carefully like they were a gift.
For a long moment, you just stared at them.
Then you picked them up, threw them across the room with a force that was entirely unnecessary and said, very loudly, to absolutely no one, "You are not fucking funny."
The light in the hallway flickered.
You chose to interpret that as a coincidence and not as the demonic equivalent of laughter, because if you didn't, you were going to lose what little remained of your sanity.
After as much sleuthing as your tired brain could manage, you decided that books could wait until tomorrow. You needed sleep more than you needed answers, and you were exhausted enough that even the prospect of another dream wasn't enough to keep you awake. Whatever this thing was, it could have one night off from being researched. You were tired, and you were annoyed, and you were going to sleep like a normal person for once in your goddamn life.
Of course, demons didn’t care much for what made something normal.
In this dream, there was no water or endless hallways of doors. There was nothing at all, really, just a vast and endless darkness that stretched in every direction and swallowed any sense of up or down or sideways.
For a while, there was nothing. Just the dark and the sensation of floating, and a quiet that wasn't emptiness so much as it was anticipation.
You felt the hand before you saw it. A pressure at your waist, the unmistakable feeling of fingers splaying wide across the side of your body through your pyjamas.
Then came a second hand, at the back of your neck this time. Fingertips dragging slowly upward into your hair, tracing a path along your scalp that sent a shiver of recognition cascading down your spine. You exhaled, or tried to, but the sound came out more unstable than you intended.
The hands seemed to like that.
You caught a glimpse of them when you looked down. They were large, disproportionately so. Or maybe that was just how they looked against your body, fingers long and deliberate and covered in ink. You couldn’t make out what the markings were in the low light, and you feared that your mind wouldn’t be able to connect the dots anyway in such a state.
A breath ghosted across your collarbone, and you shivered so violently you thought for a moment you might wake yourself up from sheer force. It was teasing and intentional, trailing a path from your shoulder to the dip of your throat in a way that made it very clear this wasn't accidental.
Just as you were prepared to turn your head, to do everything in your power to find the shadowed assailant, the hand at your waist began to drift. It sailed downwards with agonising slowness, fingertips tracing the curve of your hip and dipping lower in a way that made your body arch involuntarily toward it. You could feel the heat of its palm hovering just above your thigh, close enough to make your skin prickle with expectation but not close enough to satisfy anything. It lingered there as if it were waiting for something. Permission, maybe. Or maybe just the pleasure of watching you squirm.
The breath moved to your ear. Just the breath in the air, nothing more; no lips, no face, no voice. Just that constant presence and the overwhelming awareness that whatever this was, it was enjoying itself.
You woke at three twelve in the morning with your hand halfway between your thighs.
The books came out before you'd even fully sat up.
You read until sunrise, which sounds far more romantic and dedicated than it actually was. In reality, it involved a lot of squinting at tiny print with one eye open, intermittently burning your tongue on coffee that you kept forgetting was still fresh, and getting progressively more frustrated as every single text told you the same thing in slightly different words. Incubi and succubi were drawn to a specific person, they fed on desire, visited in dreams, were horrifically persistent, bla bla bla, bla bla bla bla.
None of that was new, nor was it helpful. You needed a how, not a what. How to identify which one, communicate even, or, for god’s sake, how to make it stop. But apparently centuries worth of demonology scholarship had very little to say on the matter beyond pray about it and hope for the best, which was not exactly actionable advice for someone who hadn't been to church since she was a baby (and even then, you had apparently cried throughout the entire service).
By seven thirty, the alarm you'd forgotten to turn off from the previous day scared the shit out of you and brought with it the horrible realisation that you could not, in fact, call in sick again. One mental health day was fine. Two in a row when you were still in your probation period at a company that already thought interns were disposable was career suicide. So you dragged yourself up, shoved the books aside, and began the process of making yourself look like a functioning human being.
You were late, obviously. In the mad dash to find something clean to wear, you yanked open your underwear drawer to find it depressingly sparse. You had intended to do laundry the day before, but it had not exactly been a priority in practice, what with the demonic haunting and all.
That was exactly how you ended up standing in your bedroom doorway staring at the blue panties.
They were still on the floor where you'd launched them at the wall. You stared at them for approximately four seconds before muttering "whatever" and pulling them on, because you were already late enough, and you were not about to let an infernal entity dictate your underwear choices.
If anyone had tried to ask you what had happened at work that day, you probably would have started chanting sixteenth-century banishing spells instead.
By the time you got home, the sun had already begun to set. Every inch of your body was fatigued and achey, because it turns out that lack of sleep thanks to some horny demon took a toll on you after a while. You kicked off your shoes, dropped your bag, and stood in the hallway of your apartment, seriously weighing up the cost/benefits of flying home and choosing a career in farming.
Instead, you straightened up, slapped your face once, and headed to the bedroom. Your clothes came off first, being tossed straight back in the laundry hamper that you promised yourself you would do in the morning. The underwear wasn’t a priority to rid yourself of yet, because you had these stupid fucking overstimulating ass hoop earrings in, that you were two seconds from pulling straight through your lobes if you didn’t rid them immediately.
As you fussed over the back clasp of the left one, you walked past the mirror.
And there, reflected behind you, was the thing that had been keeping you up for so many nights. Standing in the doorway as if it belonged.
As if he belonged. For this thing was very much male.
You turned around.
For a moment, your brain simply refused to process what it was seeing, as if the image in front of you was buffering. Because a man was standing in the doorway of your bedroom, and he had not been there three seconds ago, nor had you heard a door open or a floorboard creak or a single goddamn sound.
He was tall. That was the first thing that registered through the static in your head, because he had to be at least six feet and a bit, nd the door frame you had always thought was generous suddenly looked small with him standing in it. Broad, too, in a way that was less bulky and more proportioned, as if every inch of him had been designed with a specific kind of authority in mind.
He was, of course, dressed entirely in black. A button-up shirt sat open over another black shirt beneath it, both tucked into dress pants that were tailored close enough to suggest this was not a creature that had just thrown on whatever was available. This had been designed to make someone look.
And God, you were looking.
His jaw was defined enough to make you briefly forget that you were supposed to be terrified, and his eyes were a deep, endless sort of dark that reminded you uncomfortably of the void you had floated in during your dream.
His hair was a similar shade, albeit a bit more on the brown side, parted in the middle and falling just below his eyebrows in a style that wasn't quite straight, like it had been pushed back with wet hands and left to do whatever it pleased. It looked damp. Perpetually so, as if he had just stepped out of some netherworld that didn’t account for hairdryers.
Then your eyes dropped to his neck, where you found the image of a hand, tattooed in dark ink across the front of his throat, holding an apple.
You knew that image. You knew what it meant. Every person who had ever sat through a Sunday school class or opened a Bible or even just went on Twitter knew what it meant. ‘The original temptation’, or whatever. It was so on the nose it was almost funny, except you were not laughing, because the tattoos didn't stop there. They continued down past the collar of his shirt, disappearing beneath the black fabric and reappearing at his forearms, where his sleeves were rolled to the elbow.
With the same distinctive lines you had seen on those hands in your dream.
Before your brain had managed to catch up with that final piece of information, the incubus (because this was definitely an incubus) smiled.
“All that reading and you still seem surprised to see me.”
His voice was smooth. Not like honey, or butter, or any of that cliche crap, but the kind of sound that told he was used to giving out orders and expecting everyone to bend to his will without so much as a stuttered breath. Then, he turned his head, just enough to really highlight the curve of his jaw, and motioned with one perfectly curated finger to where the books lay open on the coffee table, The Lesser Key of Solomon on top.
“You know, you could have just asked.”
For what felt like an eternity, you just stood there. Half undressed with one earring still dangling from your hand, staring at the thing in your doorway, standing there like he paid half the rent and had every right to be in the building.
The incubus didn't seem bothered by the silence. If anything, he seemed to expect it.
"I should probably introduce myself." His words were perfectly casual, as if this were a standard meet-cute instead of an underworld haunting, but you could see the faint traces of a grin on his lips. "You can call me Noah."
You stayed silent again, of course. You weren’t entirely certain you remembered how to speak.
The demon’s, Noah’s, eyes drifted back over to the top book on the coffee table again, and this time, there was more open delight on his face. "Of course, that's not what they'll have me listed as in there. Those witches were rather derogatory with some of the titles they gave me." He paused just long enough to lift his attention back to you. "I hope it didn't scare you off."
As if he found his own words, casual as they could be, hilarious, the demon let out a short chuckle.
"My apologies, that's a slight lie, and I don't want to start this friendship on lies." Every syllable of that word, friendship, was laced with something unsettlingly haunting that you did not know how to process. "I actually quite like fear. It's delicious."
You only moved enough to drop the earring to the floor, the metal hitting the ground with a clang and rolling into the abyss under the bed. Noah didn’t break eye contact once during the ordeal, entirely unfazed by your steadily shattering composure.
A tilt of his head was the only signal he had even noticed the commotion in the first place. "Are you scared of me?"
You didn’t need to answer; the truth was written across every inch of your face.
"Good." His voice was a husk this time. "You should be."
The sheer audacity of that, the absolute certainty with which he said it, was enough to crack through your paralysis and let the first coherent thought of the last five minutes reach your mouth. "Pretty overly confident."
Noah wasn’t deterred by your dismissal. The corner of his mouth curved upward in a sick sort of satisfaction. "That would have been very brave of you if not for the fact that I can see you trembling."
You had been so afraid to take your eyes off of him that you hadn’t even noticed the vibrations rippling through your entire body.
The seconds stretched out between you as if he had designed it exactly this way. Noah didn't move; he hardly even blinked. From what you could see in your basic vision, without breaking eye contact, his chest didn’t even rise and fall with the motion of breath. He remained in the doorway, almost giving you the space to process exactly what you were seeing.
Which you were doing, slowly and incredibly anxiously.
Because now that you had noticed the trembling, you couldn't stop noticing it. Your body had apparently made the executive decision to fall apart without consulting your brain first, and there was nothing you could do about it except stand there and feel every single tremor work its way through you while he watched and enjoyed it.
Strangest of all was that under his watch, you didn’t feel scrutinised. You felt appreciated.
That realisation was what snapped you into action.
Your legs obeyed before your brain had signed off on a destination, and suddenly you were lurching forward, straight at the doorway, straight at him, because the only way out of the bedroom was through the space he was occupying, and you would rather collide with a demon than spend one more second pinned under that gaze.
Your shoulder connected with his arm as you shoved past, and two things registered simultaneously. First, that he was solid. Horrifyingly solid, not shadow or illusion like you would have guessed, but a tangible, fiery mass. Second, that he let you pass.
He didn't grab you or block your path or even tense at the contact. He only turned his body just enough to allow you through, with the barest expression of pleasure.
You only made it halfway to the exit before he was in front of you again.
You hadn’t heard him move, nor had you seen it for that matter. But suddenly, he was there between you and the front door.
And to really stop you dead in your tracks of escape, before you even had the chance to lurch past him once again for the door handle, his hand had found your neck.
It wasn't with a force that suggested he wanted to hurt you, but his fingers still closed around the column of your neck firmly enough to stop you in your tracks. Your back hit the hallway wall, and you didn't know if he had pushed you or if your own momentum had carried you there. It didn't matter either way, because all you could focus on was that his hand was warm and his fingers were long enough to span the entirety of your throat in one hold.
”You can’t hide from me, sweetheart. I know exactly how you’re really feeling.” His face dipped just enough so that his lips could brush against your earlobe. “I can practically smell it on you.”
If you were to use the sane part of your brain, you may have even laughed and told him you didn’t know what he was talking about. But you knew that was fruitless, and perhaps even an outright lie.
You hadn’t even really noticed it happening, but there was undeniable heat growing just through being touched by the entity. It was not dissimilar to the heat that gathered after every one of your dreams, except intensified by the physical presence of the man, or thing, now in your space.
It didn’t help, either, that your current state was easily described as scantily clad. Your underwear was the only thing separating you from Noah, and he seemed to come to the realisation at the same time, if the way his free hand snaked around your bare waist was anything to go by.
"You really should have done laundry before now," he teased as his thumb traced a long line against the band of your panties where they rested just below the small of your back. "I'd have been far more creative with them if I'd known you'd be wearing them."
As if to punctuate his words, he gave a small, testing squeeze of your throat. You should have been embarrassed by the sound you let out, but you found that, slowly, your senses were becoming entirely consumed by thoughts and feelings too dangerous to let materialise. The sentence itself should have sent you scrambling for the pepper spray you kept in your handbag, or better yet, running for the fire escape. But instead, they made your stomach tighten in a way that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the way his fingers were now pressing into your skin.
All at once, the sensations against your body disappeared. Noah took a step back, leaving you cold with his absence. His movements were fluid and confident as he stepped over to your front door, not even fumbling with the complex lock system as if it were second nature. It popped into an unlocked position with a vibrant click, and then he turned back to you expectantly.
"If you still want to run." He let the sentence hang in the air between you, his words both an invitation and a threat.
You stayed embarrassingly rooted to the spot, staring at the deadbolt against the door that now hung uselessly against the wood grain. The rational part of your brain was screaming at you to grab your keys, throw on shoes (and maybe some clothes), and accept the offer to escape through the door. The rest of you, however… the part of your brain that had been so consumed and overwhelmed by this awakened arousal over the last few weeks… well, that wasn't listening.
Noah waited, exhibiting far more patience than you had seen on many grown humans. This patience, however, was sinister, lingering, but that did not lessen the weight of his offer. An option, an out.
Despite your better judgment, you stayed.
Slowly, almost maliciously, that grin returned to Noah’s lips, baring white, sharp teeth. He took a step closer, then another, and another. You couldn’t move much further than the wall, so that was where you stayed as he encroached on your personal space.
It was second nature to him for his knee to slip between your legs, the sheer height of him meaning it rested so close, yet all too far away at the same time, from your core, which suddenly ached with a longing you hadn’t experienced before. His hands, large and commanding, found purchase on the wall on either side of your head, not touching in an infuriating show of self-control for one so calculated.
“You know,” he started, looking down at you with eyes inhumanly dark, “I don‘t even have to touch you to make you cum.”
Noah dipped his head at last, lips resting a mere inch above your collarbone so that his breath teased the skin there. Still, he didn’t touch, but none of that mattered when his next words turned your brain to putty.
“It’s just more fun that way.”
There was a moment, blindingly clear amidst everything else, where the fog lifted just enough for you to really understand what was happening. Not what he was doing, but what you were doing. You were standing in your hallway, half-dressed, pinned between a wall and something ancient and inhuman that had been feeding off your desire for weeks, and the door was right there, unlocked. He had given you the out, and you had not taken it, and that was a choice. That was your choice.
And somewhere in the wreckage of every rational thought you had ever had, past the books and the research and the sleepless nights and the incapacitating fear, you knew that it was the right one. You wanted the hands you had felt in your dreams to be real, and they were right here, braced against the wall on either side of your head. You wanted to know if the heat he made you feel asleep was even half as devastating when you were awake and looking at him and conscious enough to remember it.
You wanted him. Terrifyingly, inexplicably, and entirely knowingly.
So you looked up, met those impossibly dark eyes, and managed to cease your shaking.
You didn’t have to voice the complete decision to Noah; he obviously knew. Neither did you distinctly remember the journey to the bedroom, but you came to again when your legs hit the back of the bed, and Noah pushed you down into a seated position at the edge of it.
He didn't kneel so much as descend, terrifyingly predatory as he settled between your spread legs. His hands slid up your thighs, pushing them further apart with an authority that left no room for protest. The rough texture of his palms against your bare skin sent shivers racing through you, and you realised he'd removed his own shirts at some point during the transition to the bedroom. The tattoos you'd glimpsed earlier now covered his chest and arms in intricate, dark patterns that seemed to have a consciousness of their own.
“Wonder if you taste as sweet as you do in your dreams.” Noah's fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, and with one sharp tug, he tore them from your body, the straps on the left side snapping open.
The air was suddenly cold where the fabric had been, but only for a second before his mouth closed over you. His tongue was relentless from the get-go, stroking deep with a focus that threatened you to collapse against the bed. That rational part of your brain that had been screaming warnings earlier was now utterly silent, overwhelmed by the reality of his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise and the way his teeth scraped against you just shy of painful.
Noah didn't give you time to adjust to his rhythm or settle. He simply took, his mouth moving against you with the same absolute certainty he had shown in every action since he started haunting such a space. There was no testing of boundaries or space for gentle teasing, just an immediate and impossible-to-ignore pressure that made a sound rip from your throat before you could stop it. His fingers dug into your flesh in response as if to anchor himself, or maybe to keep you from moving away. Not that you could have, even if you'd wanted to. The force with which he held you in place made it clear that it wasn't an option he was offering.
Your hands flew to his hair, just wanting something physical to steady yourself on, but that only had Noah stopping with a guttural growl that reminded you exactly what he was. When he looked up again, his eyes had taken on an unnatural glow that had a glimmer of that familiar fear mixing in with the unending arousal.
“You’re so good and studious, I’d have thought you’d have better discipline.” Was what he managed before he was pushing away from you with a similar growl and rising to his feet with no further chance at stimulation from his mouth.
Without missing a beat, Noah’s hands found your wrists, practically dragging them to pull you halfway up the bed until your back collided with the sheets. He was on his knees on the mattress in an instant, an item in his hands that you were too nervous to turn away from his disappointed gaze to identify. It didn’t take long to figure out, for something was being tied so tightly around your wrists that it dug into the skin and left only enough room for blood to circulate.
Your panties. Half broken now, utilised fully as an instrument of his perfect seduction throughout every step.
“In case that wasn’t clear,” he hovered over you now, emphasising his words by pulling down the left cup of your bra and sparing a beat to graze his teeth against your nipple in threat, “You don’t get to touch me.”
His hand found your throat again here, but the force was more than before by the door. You could still breathe below it, his technique practically perfect, but it did not lessen the effect of the action as the contact sent a fresh wave of anticipation right to your core. Noah doubled one sensation with another, his free hand trailing a single pointer finger down between the centre of your breasts over the wire of your bra, down your stomach and precisely to where you needed it without even looking.
He did not take his time when he pushed his fingers into you, nor did he take it one at a time. All at once, two long digits entered you with a firm push until he was buried past his knuckles and could go no further without first working you open. The moan that it elicited got caught somewhere below his palm on your throat, instead coming out as more of a strangled gasp.
Noah chuckled more to himself than to you, viewing you solely as an ornament of his satiation, and the sound vibrated through his body and into your skin where you were joined. "You're soaking," the words carried the edge of an insult, but were spoken like a prayer. His thumb pressed suddenly against your clit without warning, finding a maddening pattern that had your wrists fighting against their makeshift restraint to break free. "It's almost insulting how easy this is."
You tried to answer, to say anything at all, but all that came out was a desperate, breathless noise that made his grin wider. Your mind was a hazy blur of pleasure, overcome entirely by the feeling of his fingers inside of you. You had been touched before, and touched yourself countless times, but something about this felt different. You weren't sure if it was his power and influence or genuine spectacle of his skill, but it was as if every nerve in your body was alight with a fever.
Without missing a beat or losing a moment of connection, Noah lifted his knee and deposited it against your hip, pushing you back down against the mattress where your body had just begun to arch. It was a firm reminder of exactly where you stood in this dynamic. You had said a total of three words to him since his arrival, and it was clear he had no intention of allowing you the opportunity for any more at the current moment in time.
Noah kept his eyes on your entrance as he added a third finger, and the stretch was so abrasive you wanted to yell out and grip at his arms, but the hand on your throat and panties tying your wrists together stunted either of these from occurring. Instead, you were left pliant and accepting below him as he took exactly what he wanted.
Not that you minded when it felt like this.
You felt the delirious wave of pleasure cresting quicker than you would have ever intended, but you were powerless to stop it. Noah clearly sensed it approaching, for he dug his knee further into your pelvic bone and doubled the efforts of his thumb against your clit.
The orgasm crashed over you with a violence that left you gasping against his palm on your neck, your body convulsing beneath his unyielding hold. Noah watched with detached fascination as you came apart, his expression one of clinical appreciation rather than shared pleasure as he fed on the tremors of your release.
His fingers didn’t relent even as the first wave attempted to subside, Noah not taking his eyes off of your throbbing heat as he dragged your orgasm out. His knee against your hip did not allow you room to escape, the thrashing of your legs useless against his weight as you tried to move away from the sheer overstimulation of the moment.
When he finally pulled away, it was all at once. Every part of him that had been pressed against you pulled back to leave you gasping against the bedsheets.
It took a long moment for you to come to again, finding Noah sat back against his ankles nearby. There was something in his face, unreadable and oddly blank, and for no reason at all, it had you speaking through broken breaths in a strange reassurance. “I’m okay.”
Noah tilted his head at that, and oddly enough, the gesture made him look more human-like; more empathetic. It didn’t last for long, but the soft murmur of reassurance from your lips clearly served to spur him on as he snapped back into the demeanour that spoke to his desire to devour you whole.
You were still catching your breath, the aftershocks of your climax making your thighs tremble against the sheets, when Noah leaned forward again. His hand came up to cup your jaw, his thumb tracing the line of your bottom lip. The touch was deceptively gentle, but the promise was the opposite.
"Good," he purred, the gentleness leaving his system all at once just as quickly as it had appeared. "Because we're not done."
Before you could process the implication, he was making it clear in actions alone. Swiftly, Noah grabbed you by your restrained wrists once again, dragging you along the bedsheets until you were at the edge. Once there, he pulled you up so effortlessly until you dangled from the air, and deposited you back down on your knees, facing across the room. From this angle, he could step up behind you, body pressed against yours, until you could finally feel the effects of his own arousal.
That alone was practically dizzying, the sudden reminder that he was just as affected as you, even if he seemed so composed. He fed on your desire without even the need for physical contact, that much was true, but to know that, despite that all, there was still a physical remnant of his own wanting…
Your wrists, still tied together, fell limply in front of your body when released, and Noah hooked one arm below them and around the underside of your breasts through your bra so that he could pull you even more firmly against his chest. The motion forced your head up with a jolt, and that was when you noticed exactly where you were positioned.
The mirror was directly across from your body. As if he had been planning this all along.
The reflection presented back to you was a mess. Your hair was tangled up on your head, one earring in, one bra cup pushed down below your breast with the other still covered, and your skin was a blotchy red canvas from overexertion and sheer desire. Noah hovered over your shoulder, his arm wrapped around your ribcage, and his own reflection seemed to take on an unearthly glow in the low light.
You tilted your head to look back at him, but Noah caught your jaw in his free hand with pathetic ease. He applied enough force to turn your head back to the glass until you were eye to eye with him.
“Look at yourself.”
And you did. A mess, yes. But a beautiful, unholy one at that. One that would make the gods you were taught to worship as a child weep if only they could see you. Destroyed from a few touches, held in place by the personification of the very thing they feared. You only hoped they were watching as you gave yourself over to the dark side. As you allowed this thing to feed from you; to gain power from your utter destruction.
“You look like you want to say something.”
He was right. There were far too many thoughts dancing around your brain, but all you could manage to get out was a pathetic “Please…”
Noah grinned at that, sharp teeth reflecting once more in the mirror as he met your pleading eyes that made you look like a lost puppy. Even without his powers, he knew what you were begging for, but that still was not enough for a creature as insatiable as him. He grazed his teeth along your earlobe, and then down the line of your neck, pausing only to growl, “I’m going to need more than that, sweet thing.”
His request was punctuated by a jolt of your body against his, sending your ass back in collision with his clothed erection. It pulled a whimper from you, painfully submissive and needy, and took you a moment to recover before you could speak again. “I need you.”
“Not good enough,” he tutted, accentuating the scold with a firm bite against the crook of your neck. For a moment, you thought he might even pull blood, but his tongue soothed the ache deliciously within a second. “Your desire alone fuels me sufficiently, yes, but to hear you beg is even more delicious. Are you going to do that for me?”
The words tumbled from your throat with ease all of a sudden, when the hand holding your face ceased its hold, only to grip against your thigh with perfectly kept nails digging into skin.
“Please! Please, I want you to fuck me–no–I need you to–” You would have been embarrassed over such desperation had you not heard the breath of a groan leave Noah’s lips “Want you so bad I can’t think straight.”
That seemed to satisfy him, if the way his hand slipped from your thigh and to his pants was anything to go by. The simple motion of it already had you moaning, and it wasn’t long before you felt something warm, hard and incessantly big being pushed between the top of your thighs so that it could brush against your folds.
Noah held himself there for a moment before you could feel his hand from behind, using it to tease his cock against your clit. Throughout it all, his eyes never left you. Even when your own fluttered close over the feeling of him against your heat, Noah watched the whole thing.
You couldn’t see from this angle, and even if you made a move to look, he would not allow it, but you knew he was big. Of course he was, he was a demon, but even so, you were certain the size of him would be overwhelming. These suspicions were confirmed rather quickly when the head of his cock pushed into your entrance with an agonising slowness that told he was devouring the passion it elicited from your lips.
Your head fell forward upon the intrusion, chin finding your chest with an almost inhuman moan, but Noah did not allow such an action. His cock stilled where it was sunk just a quarter of the way into you in favour of that hand returning to your chin and forcing your head up so fast that you were reminded exactly how powerful he was. He could break your neck in one swift, easy motion if he really wanted to. He could hurt you in unimaginable, horrifically painful ways. And yet still, you ached for him more than you ever had anything in your entire time on this earth. You feared you would let him break you in two if it meant you could have some form of release from the misery of constant desire.
When he spoke again, or more growled, into your ear, his breathing was heavier than before. Sinister as ever, this time the command was a threatening growl that you would not disobey. “Watch.”
You did. And quickly, you found that you wouldn’t have been able to tear your eyes away even if you tried.
The slowness of his first breach was gone in an instant, suddenly pushing in as far as he could go in one fast motion. It had you jolting forward against the arm restraining you, but you did not take your eyes off of the mirror image once. At first, you watched him, the way his lips parted as he let himself drink in the feeling of you clenching around his cock. He was watching it from behind now with unbridled awe, the way your cunt took him so perfectly, even if he didn’t completely fit. Noah seemed entirely transfixed, but he didn’t have to look at you to know you were staring at him, and without so much as a lift of his head, he was moving your chin back to look back at your own figure.
You were met with your flushed face, a thin sheen of sweat forming on your forehead. You were just about to choke out a gasp when suddenly, he moved with a relentless force, giving you no time to adjust.
Noah pulled out in one quick motion, then pushed back in just as hard.
He didn't allow you time to settle into a rhythm. He established one, brutal and punishing and exactly what you'd begged for without knowing the cost. Each thrust was a claim, driving the air from your lungs in abrupt, broken gasps. Your bound hands scrabbled against thin air, searching for purchase on something as the fabric of your panties cut deeper into your wrists with each impact. Every nerve in your body screamed, and the only thing that tethered you to reality was the reflection of his eyes watching you fall apart.
You watched, mesmerised and horrified all at once, as your reflection contorted with each impact.
Noah's grip around your ribcage tightened as he pistoned into you, but the hand on your chin finally relented in favour of finding your clit again. The obscene stimulation on your already oversensitive bud had you jerking against him, but he held you still with unnatural ease. The pornographic moan that you let out as he circled over that precious spot just right had him looking back up from your entrance to your face, drinking in the image of you being split open by his cock.
The sight of it all - the obscene stretch, the wet slide, the sheer violation of your own body welcoming it - unlocked something feral in you. A fresh wave of heat coiled low in your belly, tighter and far more urgent than before. You were close again, teetering on that precipice, when Noah adjusted.
In the first telltale sign that he was losing his own composure, he released his grip on your waist and sent you tumbling down to the bed until your backside was arched in the air and your face pressed against the mattress. Your arms were now pressed awkwardly under your body, but that ache could be addressed tomorrow, because Noah’s pace did not falter for a moment.
He kept his thrusts rough and unrelenting, even as his hand now slipped to your hair, gripping your scalp until he could pull your head up. You were face-to-face with yourself again, but this time you could see him more clearly; the way he slammed in and out of you with expert precision.
It was debilitating, watching him use you so freely, and watching your body welcome it as if he were not the type of creature that he was. You wanted more, craved him so deeply, even while he was still thrusting to the hilt with pleasure racketing through your every square inch.
He didn't allow you to look away, not even when the pressure built to a breaking point. His eyes held yours captive in the mirror, a promise in his own demonic ones as his thrusts grew more frantic, losing their measured rhythm. His hand slid from your hair down to your throat now that he was certain you wouldn’t drop your head again, applying just enough pressure to remind you of his control.
The orgasm crept up on you, but you should have suspected the force with which it would hit. You came suddenly with a ragged cry, your body convulsing around him in violent waves of pleasure that made you lose sensation in your hands. It tore through you and left you immediately spent and on the precipice of collapse, but Noah did not stop.
He drove into you through your climax, each thrust prolonging the aftershocks until they blurred into one continuous, overwhelming sensation.
He kept moving through the shattering waves, as if you hadn't just come completely apart. His thrusts became deeper, if that was even possible, each one a blunt extension to the aftershocks still wracking your body. You were limp beneath him, held up only by the hand at your throat and the desperate need to watch his face as he neared his own release, but he showed no mercy. The overstimulation was an electric pain that bordered on pleasure, and you could do nothing but take it, your cries silent due to the rawness of your throat.
You saw the shift in his expression as he reached some sort of release of his own, his hips pressing as flush as they could against your ass as he buried himself as far as he could go and held there.
Noah's climax was not a quiet thing. What could only be described as a snarl ripped from his throat, a sound that was more animal than anything human, and you felt him pulse inside you, hot and impossibly deep.
He wasted very little time pulling out of you in one smooth, fluid motion, leaving you empty and shuddering against the sheets. The absence of him was almost as shocking as the invasion had been.
For a moment, the only sound in the room was your breathing.
It was shaky in a way that would have embarrassed you if you had any capacity left for embarrassment, which you decidedly did not. Your shoulders were still pressed into the mattress, your bound hands trapped beneath you, and you felt more wrung out than you ever had before in your life. You weren't sure you could move even if you wanted to.
Behind you, Noah hadn't made a sound. No breathing, of course, no shift in weight on the mattress, nothing to suggest that what had just happened had cost him even a fraction of the energy it had taken from you. Of course it hadn't. You were the meal. He was just well-fed.
You felt his hand first. Not on your throat this time, but at the back of your neck, fingers sliding into your hair with a slowness that felt at odds with the intensity of the past hour. He gathered a handful of it, gently enough this time that it didn't hurt but firm enough that you understood it wasn't a request, and turned your head to the side.
Then he kissed you.
It wasn't tender, or deep, or romantic in any sense of the word. His lips pressed against yours with an exactness that matched everything else about him, deliberate and controlled, and you felt something pull from your throat. It wasn’t like a physical pain, but more something almost out of body, like something was being drawn out of you through the contact. The last traces of heat still lingering in your bloodstream, the aftershocks still rippling through your nervous system, all of it seemed to flow toward the point where his mouth met yours as if he was collecting what was owed. Even now, he was feeding.
When he pulled back, his eyes had become those same dark voids from before, losing the glow they had obtained in the mirror. There was a satisfaction on his face that went beyond simple smugness, laced with ancient understanding and thoroughly satiated. This was a creature that was not concerned about time or quantity; it was a creature who knew without question that it would get it again.
Noah’s fingers found the knot of fabric around your wrists and pulled it loose with one easy tug. The now broken panties fell away from your skin, and he held them for a moment, running the fabric between his fingers with an expression of vague amusement before dropping them on the bed beside you.
"I have to say," he murmured, still close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek, "you are far more generous than I anticipated." His thumb traced a lazy line along your jaw. "Every demon in the Western Hemisphere is going to want to know my secret."
You opened your mouth to respond, though god knows what you were planning to say, but the air beside you was already empty.
Just like before there had been no sound or sign of music; no dramatic exit. He was simply gone, as instantly and impossibly as he had arrived, leaving nothing behind but the indent on the mattress where his knee had been and a silence so complete it made your ears ring.
You lay there for a long time.
Your bra was still on, lopsided and ridiculous, one cup doing absolutely nothing of use. Your hands were free but marked with faint lines where the fabric had pressed into your wrists. The apartment was quiet in a way it hadn't been for weeks, genuinely quiet, as if whatever presence had been lurking in the walls and the cold spots and the flickering lights had been temporarily satisfied enough to retreat. Slowly, very slowly, you rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling.
You should have felt, at the very least, slightly disturbed by the whole revelation that you were being haunted. You should have been reaching for your phone to call someone, anyone, or googling emergency exorcism services, or packing a bag and getting on the first flight home and away from this state that had brought you nothing but tiredness and trouble.
Instead, you pulled the duvet up to your chin, curled onto your side, and thought about the fact that your shitty, overpriced, cockroach-infested apartment with its broken floorboards and its temperamental power grid and its stain on the kitchen ceiling was starting to feel a lot more like home than it had any right to.
And for the first time since you moved in, you fell asleep without dreaming.
a/n: author hates writing dirty talk so just avoided dialogue like the plague xxxx
uhhhhhhh. so i got very carried away with this as you can tell. but i really enjoy incubus noah so he may become a permanent character on this page so yeah.... more thots to come in the future i am pretty certain.
... i don't really have much to say just,,, hope everyone enjoyed????? strangely insecure about posting this LOL i am running away now
Warnings: smut, p in v, mentions of failed engagement, one night stand, oral (male and female), fingering, public sex (kinda), phone call during sex👀, drinking, smoking, swearing, more sex. Enjoy💀
General idea of the fic: you go to Vegas with your friend and her friends, and meet a guy to help distract you from your failed engagement. Your friend Lily wanted something to take your mind off of everything.
This is all made up and not real, this isn’t AI generated either, idek why I have to mention this. This was off an idea I had while listening to music. I’m also going to Vegas for the first time next month yaay me. Enjoy 🩶
Divider is @dividers-are-us ❤️
Big thanks to @chaoticallycatatonic for helping me write, I love you🩶🫶🏻
This was also not pre checked for spelling and errors, just bear with me I’m not perfect.🧍🏻♀️
Lots of mentions of DJing idk where tf I got this idea from either. Anyway enjoy 👀
“We gotta hurry to the pool, that’s where my brother is at.” Your best friend Lily said, as she dragged you down through the casino to get to the pool.
She knew you had a little hobby doing some DJing, lucky for you her brother was doing a gig in Vegas, you liked DJing but you didn’t know the whole thing of it. You found it cool though. She stopped right in front of the doors before you both were to go outside.
“Hey I know we just got here, but try and relax. I know your fiancé also left you recently, and it’s still fresh. I just want to see you get out again, and smile like old times.” You give her a soft smile at her words.
“I’ll try. Thank you for inviting me on your girls trip you planned.” You hugged her as she smiled while hugging you. She was dressed in pink along with her friend group.
“Let’s find you a man with a big dick!” She giggled as she pulled you out the casino to the pool area with her. You laughed at her comment.
You didn’t care for themes or knew about any. It wasn’t the friend groups fault they were more girlie and fun and like Lily. You were in a navy bikini, followed by shorts, flip flops, a band tee, and trucker hat. It was 103° when you woke up, only to get hotter out.
You followed behind her as she made her way to her friends at the cabana. They acknowledged you and were kind to you, and you didn’t care to know them much. You don’t drink often either but decided since it was a vacation and Vegas it would be acceptable.
After putting your stuff away and stripping off the clothes that covered your bikini, you made your way to the bar. Lily was also there getting some tequila shots.
“Give me 5 tequila shots please.” She looked over at you about to change it to 6 before you corrected her back to 5 and she gave you a look.
“You’re supposed to be having fun.” She whined, handing the bartender her credit card. You chuckled, before hearing someone beside you comment.
“Tequila is not for everyone.” The man had tattoos and sun glasses on, his hair was long and kind of blonde and shoulder length, he looked you up and down slightly before ordering himself a beer.
“Y/n, use to love tequila but now she prefers being sober. Shes so responsible.” She replied, winking at you, giving you a light push. You rolled your eyes at her words.
“I feel better sober.” You mumbled, as you glazed at the wine list they had at the bar. Lily took the tequila shots leaving you at the bar with a huff.
You could feel the man’s eyes on you. He wasn’t staring at you but you can see he was sneaking glances.
“Are you from here?” You questioned, getting his attention after he looked away. He turned his head back to you as you order a glass of dry wine they had.
“Oh no, I’m on a trip with my friends, we do music for a living. I design some stuff for tattoos and sell merch.” He answered. You cocked your head slightly wondering what music they did and what career can you have in music?
“We’re here for a festival. Pretty popular band too. My friend himself doesn’t drink much, but we like pools and what not so decided to stay a couple nights on the strip.” He went on, and then decided to introduce himself. (We like pools and what not. Oh okay👀)
“I’m Davis.”
You gave him your name in return before he nodded his head. “That’ll be $13” the bartender set down your glass of wine as you grabbed your purse to get your card.
“Put it on cabana 5’s tab.” Davis replied, the bartender nodded before walking away. He winked while walking away.
“Feel free to come by if you’re bored or need another glass of wine. It’s on me and my friends.” You heard as you walked back to your cabana, Lily’s friends were at.
“Cheers.” You heard everyone yell before throwing back shots. A lot of them already pre gamed and looked pretty drunk. You weren’t a big fan of drunk people.
The music finally cut to Lily’s brother Drew, the DJ. You watched as many people including your friends raced up to the crowd of people standing by his station.
Drew played a few songs that you liked. Classic party songs you’d hear in a club and a few rap songs too. You were impressed. You knew a little bit of how to DJ but not as much as he did. He did it for a living too while meanwhile you worked as some admin in a healthcare place.
Feeling dehydrated, you made your way back to the bar to order some water. Drew also happened to be there while he put some auto setting on getting himself a drink. He bumped you slightly.
“I can see you watching my set from the corner. You enjoying it?” Drew picked up his drink they handed him, waiting to your reply.
“I like it, I mix some stuff myself but it’s not as cool as yours.” You replied nodding your head. He offered you to go up there with him. You hated crowds but the wine in you was telling you to go, so you followed him back to his station.
He had a shit ton of buttons, mix discs and a whole computer set up. It was loud as can be but he let you take the stage as he watched. The crowd including your friends were yelling and vibing.
You didn’t know what to choose so you just chose some pitbull stuff to remix. It made everyone louder, and seemed to get stuff going. You felt a pair of eyes on you one that you couldn’t help but notice. Yes there was eyes all on you but ones that’s caught your attention.
Back at a cabana where Davis was, but it wasn’t Davis. It was someone else with tattoos and sunglasses. He had shorter hair and a La croix in hand. You looked away not thinking much of it, watching your friends take the dance floor. Lily knew you messed around with music and thought it was cool, she didn’t know you could mix so it was almost a surprise. She was also dancing with some tattooed guy with a man bun. He looked like he could also be friends with Davis maybe.
You finished a few songs before handing it back over to Drew. He thanked you and before you left he invited you to come perform with him at the nightclub.
“I want to see more of what you got. You’re very impressive and I want you to get another shot of doing this.” You smiled at his offer before accepting it. You had nothing else to do tonight.
You walked back to the cabana they were all at waiting. Some of them drinking water while the others were lying down. Lily managed to drag the tattooed man over to you guys.
“Guys this is Jolly. He’s the sweetest guy ever, and he invited us out to dinner with friends. Isn’t that cool?” Lily was pretty drunk but Jolly was too and happy to be around her.
“Ooooh Jolly found someone, finally!” Davis followed by La Croix guy, joined the conversation. You could feel his eyes more intensely on you.
“We’re going to have dinner at this cool place if you all wanna join us, we’d love to have you.” Davis turned towards you before raising an eyebrow. The girls of course accepted it, you shrugged before he poked you while you drank your water.
“You best be there y/n. Also Greta job up there, you’re good with music too.” He teased, you thanked him smiling at his comment.
“See you guys later.” Davis yells. As they waved and walked away.
You sat down, watching them walk. Well mainly him, something about him caught your attention but you weren’t sure what. You pulled out a cigarette before walking to the smoking lounge. You didn’t smoke often but you went to Japan with your ex and it was some of the last things you both enjoyed together. They were different from American cigarettes and you didn’t care much of what anyone says.
——
*Time skip*
“This place is amazing!” Lily announced, as she drank it in. It was all fancy and sparkly. Probably a couple hundred dollars a plate to even eat here and hard to get in from the looks of it.
Jolly told her to make sure we were all fancy with dresses and closed toed heels. You put your little black dress and heels to use. You forgot to mention to anyone you were meeting Drew at the club and had to leave early to get into the club and find out what you going to mix. You were kinda nervous from not having any experience mixing in a club, almost not wanting to show up from your nerves.
They showed everyone to the table. It had many different names on it. “Davis, Noah, Nick, Jolly..”
Yes it was assigned seating in a place like this. You found your name next to “Noah”. You always liked that name, it was simple and easy to remember. To your surprise it was La Croix guy who you were drooling about.
His voice found you as he got your attention. “Hi I’m Noah.” He greeted, while sitting next to you. You dranked him in. The black tailored pants, black shirt, tucked into his black dress pants with a belt, and button up.
He was 100% your type, and you were trying not to freak out. This was the something about him feeling you were getting again almost like you’re meant to be drawn to eachother.
“Y/n.” You smiled back at him as he mirrored your smile, before putting up the menu. Looking at it. He sneaked another glance at you shyly.
He put the menu down, nervously bouncing his leg. He wasn’t use to things like this or meeting new people and randomly inviting them out to dinner. “Thank Davis.”
“You DJ? You did a great job, looked like you knew what you were doing.” He picked up the wine in front of him sipping out of it.
“Yeah, it’s pretty fun. Lily’s brother does it for a living and has a few gigs out here in Vegas.” You replied.
“He seems cool. I’ve never met him. We’re also here for a music gig too..” Noah nodded to himself while looking over the menu. He didn’t want to give too much away about his own life. But there was something about you.
“Yeah I have to leave here early, I got something I have to take care of. Maybe I’ll see you around if I don’t see you again the next day.” You shrugged not thinking much about the conversation.
Noah glanced over at you looking at how you were dressed and how different you were from your friend and her friends. Almost the complete opposite. He thought you were beautiful.
You bite your lip looking at all the entrees costing all around more than $100. It was kinda of conflicting for you. You were about to not order anything and maybe hit a fast food place by the club when Noah ordered for you.
“She’ll have the same as me.” He glanced over at you confirming with you, which you nodded agreeing to it. You didn’t know what he got and you weren’t a vegetarian so it should be okay.
“I can’t really afford-“ you mumbled feeling a little sick at the idea.
“It’s on me, and my friends. Don’t worry about it.” His hand pet your hair slightly moving it out of your face. You felt flustered at you shyed away. You haven’t been with someone in a little bit but your ex fiancé and since the engagement everything feels new to you again.
The food arrived fast. As you listened a little bit to Davis talk about the music stuff they do. You tuned in and out of it. Not knowing much or asking questions. They were a band apparently but you didn’t care to research.
You looked over at Noah he was finished his food. You softly whispered a “thank you” to him, before getting up to smoke and Irish goodbye.
You walked out announcing you were going to smoke, followed by the comments about smoking and how it was bad for you and all the stuff. You didn’t care much. It was for your nerves mainly.
You found a good little corner where no one was, a little ways away from the restaurant before taking one out and lighting it.
“I’ll take one too.”
The voice beside you asks. You didn’t recognize Noah for a second about to tell the stranger no. But you glance at him, he was looking at you grin in his face.
“Why?”
You asked. Making the smile disappear. You puffed out the smoke. They’re from Japan, I don’t have many of them. “They were giving to be by my ex fiancé when he went on a work trip there and cheated on me. There’s good though, they have a weird mint flavor to them.”You handed one to him. (“Here damn.”)
“I’m sorry he did that to you. Sounds like a shit guy.” He took your lighter before lighting it.
“He’s dead to me.” You replied to him like it was nothing before he had a chance to say a word, you asked him another question.
“Why are you out here with me?”
You took your cigarette putting it out on the ground. He did the same as you. “Just was curious, maybe a little nosey to what you had to go and do. That’s all…” he mumbled looking down feeling like he was imposing maybe.
You laughed a little. “It’s none of your business, and you and your band probably have some cool fancy shit to tonight, while I go back to my little private boring life. Going to DJ with my friend’s brother.”
Noah nodded at the idea of watching you DJ again before inviting himself. “Let’s go to the club.” He pulls you with him. You pull away.
“Why? I’m just going to make a fool of myself..”
Noah scoffed, before taking you with him. He watched you up there, and overheard Drew talking about the club he was going to, they were able to get a table at the night at the club a different night, at the same club you were headed to.
You both walked up to the bouncer. “Hi I’m y/n, I’m with Drew. The bouncer nodded granting you access. They stopped Noah.
“Who are you?” The deep voice made you freeze. You needed him to come with you or you were going to humble yourself in front of all these people.
“Oh that’s just my boyfriend, Drew told me I could bring him too.” You quickly made an excuse as to why he should come with you. The guy looked at you and then him before granting him access too.
“Thank god.” You whispered, Noah took your hand in his. You didn’t even know this guy that well to have any business stringing him along with you.
“Hey! Y/n, are you ready. I’ve been waiting for you. It’s R&B night, hope you can mix something good for us.” He greeted you before giving you access. Noah followed behind you too. He acknowledged him too patting his back.
“This your man too?” He asked, as you put the headphones on, you replied, “Just a friend Drew.” You rolled your eyes at his comment. “Don’t worry u won’t tell Lily.” He nodded before leaving you to it.
Noah found a popular R&B song starting it up, before adding some beats, and more bass to it. You found a song compatible to it that would compliment the beat well, before mixing it with him. The crowded liked it before going with it.
Drew came up to you guys with a bottle before opening it, and offering it to you both. A dry red wine. One of Noah’s favorites and you liked it too, deciding on sharing it straight out the bottle.
Noah thanked him, before take a swig out of it. It was just as he imagined the both of you. He over heard Drew mentioning about playing at this nightclub and when he saw you up there with him he connected the dots, especially at dinner. He couldn’t stop thinking about you.
He watched as you smiled, while being so focused at finding the right tempo and beat to the song. It was enough to make people rock against each other on the floor. The things he would do to get to do that with you. Davis told him a little about you, after meeting you at the bar.
“She’s kind of similar to you, but girlie. Shes super kind, and her friend said she just got out of an engagement..”
Noah could hear Davis’s voice in his head. He spin the disc and few times before starting the flow of the last song. It was one of your favorite R&B songs. You obviously had to lock in. You decided beside him rocking your body. He watched and grinned to himself. You drank more out of the wine glass taking turns with him until it was empty. You both felt a little tipsy.
His arm reached over your yours brushing it slowly, turning a button. He whispered down in your ear.
“Do you want to get out of here, and hand it back to Drew?”
You were pretty tipsy and a little tired. Turning your head looking at Noah you admired all his facial features and how his hair was kind of in his eyes. He looked divine.
“Of course. We can go hangout on my balcony if you’d like.” You invited him, whiling taking the headphones off, as Drew came up taking them from you.
“Thank you, thank you. You guys were awesome, appreciate you. Hope to see you guys around soon.” As Drew spun the disc changing the music to something more upbeat and funky, making the crowd move.
Noah took your hand as you guys excited out of the nightclub to the strip. He waved down one of the portable self driving cars, as he took both of your back to the same hotel you guys were both staying at.
You rested against his shoulder in the car. He put his arm around you stabilizing you. He smelt good. Like a familiar men’s cologne that you couldn’t get enough of. You stared at his face for a little bit. He was lost in thought so he didn’t notice. You wanted to kiss him. Something about him made you want him. Maybe it was kindness or want to spend time with you. It wasn’t something you felt before, not even from your fiancé when you were engaged.
“Alright this is us.” He unbuckled the seat belt and yours. His hands brushed softly on the side on your thigh. It felt good, almost too good. You followed him out of the car as he took your hand in his leading you into the hotel to the elevator.
“Which floor?” He asked, as both of you were just in the elevator alone. He held you against him as he saw you were stumbling a little. His face was flustered from the alcohol and he was more smiley.
“Floor 12.” You answered, as he pressed it, pushing his head into your neck, taking in your scent. No one called or texted either of you which was surprising but you were sure everyone already suspected what was going on.
“You’re beautiful.” Noah mumbled against your skin, placing a kiss to your shoulder. It warmed your heart. The elevator doors opened as Noah took you with him by hand.
“Room 1245.” You stated as he nodded while humming a song in his head as you grabbed your room card while he waited for you.
He took the card from you sliding it before unlocking the cold dark hotel room. You could smell a fate trace of your perfume you sprayed on while you were getting ready for dinner.
Noah closed the door pressed you against it. You welcome him in your arms kissing him back. His tongue entered your mouth exploring and hungry for you. His hands roamed you once were on your waist now on your ass.
He pulled away to start sucking on your neck. The fate groan you let out was sinful to his ears. His fingers went to fabric of your dress before his mouth came to your ear asking you “can I take this off of you?”
You said yes. Wanting to feel him closer to your skin and on your skin. His fingers unzipped your mini black dress letting it pool to your feet leaving you in your panties and bra that didn’t match.
He kissing you more before setting you on the bed as he unbuttoned his shirt you fell to your knees going for his belt.
“Wait. Please I want to please you first.” He begged, almost weak in the knees to please you. He wanted you badly and of course he wanted to feel your mouth but he wanted to taste you more.
Of course you let him. He took off his shirt while he laid you down on the bed. He started at the top with your lips, kissing them a few times before moving down to your neck. He sucked lightly, not leaving a mark but he could if he really wanted to.
You moaned lightly at the feeling. He came to your bra before unhooking it gently taking it off of you. He wasted no time going straight to your rock hard nipples. His tongue ran over the harden peck, as your breathing began getting harder while the other hand would pitch and squeeze the other.
He kissed down to your panties lightly running his painted finger nails along them. The dim light you could see him as he smirked as he pulled your panties off watching your glistening cunt.
You were drenched for him. He barely even touched you and you were spilling out everywhere. He awed.
“Are you this wet for me?” He teased as his finger ran across your clit to your entrance. You squirmed at the feeling slightly but moaned in a reply.
“Y-yes. All for you.” You murmured, feeling the pat of his thumb circle your clit. He toyed with it for a little bit listening to the sounds you would make if he went fast or slow.
You looked now at his other hand. They were perfectly manicured a matte black. You were worried he would ruin them with how pretty they looked.
You felt his finger tips at your entrance but you stopped him. Make him look up at you thinking he did something wrong.
“N-noah, your nails. I don’t want ruin them..” he looked down at his hands and this back at your cunt. He smiled lightly to himself and snickered.
“They’re matte, but maybe I want a glossy shine to them.”
With that he kissed you as he slipped two long pretty fingers inside of you. You cried out at the stretch of his fingers. He did have pretty big hands. His fingers could reach places you didn’t think they could.
He got on the ground to his knees and immediately started sucking your clit, while his fingers moved in and out of you. Like he was chasing after something you.
“F-fuck. Right there. Omg.” Your head arched back as his fingers deep in you curled at the spongey stop inside of you.
Noah replaced his fingers with his tongue and started sucking you while his fingers were rubbing fast circles on your clit, making your legs close around his head. You could feel his unshaved face slightly against your cunt making you groan at the friction.
He could hear your moans getting louder as he went faster feeling you cry under him. You finally let go and released around him feeling him stop as he licked you clean, before coming back up.
He looked at his fingers under the dim light smirking to himself, while using his shirt to dry his face from your release.
After the world came back to you, got up and fall straight on your knees in front of him looking up like you wanted to return the favor. He nodded at you still catching his breath even though he knows you’re going to steal it.
You’re pretty good at sucking dick. It was your ex fiancés favorite thing about you. You didn’t have a gag reflex either so you could swallow him whole.
“You… have-e the prettiest pussy ever.” Noah said in between breaths as you worked him out his pants, unzipping them. You palm him as you watched his head tip back.
You unbuttoned his pants as he helped you pull them off, leaving him in his boxers. They were black, right, and had a huge bulge in them waiting for you.
You palm him again hearing him groan lightly. It’s been a while since he’s been with anyone, he was worried and a little nervous and wanted to do things right. You didn’t deserve to do this. A perverted thing for him, but at the same time his mind was finding him along with his groin.
Your finger tips dance along the top of his boxers, as his hands find your head making a loose ponytail holding it from your head. His thumb glazed your lips slightly as you took it in your mouth sucking on it, swirling your tongue.
Noah knew he was done for. Your mouth was the softest and wettest thing apart from your pussy that he’s felt in a while. He nodded at you to take them off as you silently asked him with your eyes.
You pulled them down, and he was the biggest dick you’ve ever seen. He was red and raw too, almost looking like it hurt. You gently took him in your hand feeling him twitch slightly. You lightly pumped him testing the water works.
His eyes were closed. Lip was biting so hard he could dry blood. The grip on your hair was a little tighter. He was trying to hold himself together and you haven’t even put him in your mouth yet.
“Do you want to use me?” You asked, taking your hand away from his cock. He let go of your hair looking at you a little confused.
“Use you? Why?”
“Not use me for sex silly. I mean, use my moan and control the pace maybe??” You mumbled feeling a little embarrassed like you might of killed the vibe. Although his eyes widened at what you meant.
He hasn’t done that in years. I m fact it felt wrong, but the eager look in your eyes said else wise. You wanted this as much as he did.
“Tap my thigh if it’s too much.”
He whispered, placing a kiss to your head before pulling your hair into a ponytail again moving your head closer to his cock. His dick was huge, you felt like you were going to have trouble with it. But if you were going choke on it in the end when you’d put it in later it’d probably feel even better.
You opened your mouth to welcome him into your soft lips. He was heavy on your tongue like you thought but he was soft and tasted a little salty but good. He started with a slow shallow thrust to test your limits. He keeps going a little more till he could put more in.
The moan he let out was something out of a porn video, it sounded like it hurt even thought it was the opposite.
“F-fuck. You’re so perfect.” He thrusted little by little, as he inched closer to the back of your throat. You encouraged him to fully put himself in though he was a little hesitant, you looked back up at him as he went deeper in to your throat feeling him touch the back as his tip caught a tight space in the back of it.
You moaned around him liking the feeling of it, eyes watering, as you listening to him as well, swearing while speeding up the pace.
He was going faster, your nose was pressed into his trimmed pelvis. He smelled good, like some type of body wash that went with his cologne.
“Shit, I’m going cum. Oh-fuck.” He cried out. As he came in your throat as you swallowed it. He felt gross for doing that without asking but you loved it. You would’ve wanted it that way anyway.
He pulled out being wiping the mascara and tears off your face. He pulled his boxers back on, pulling you into his arms as you both laid in bed together.
“You’re amazing, you know. Your fiancé didn’t deserve you. You’re a fun person, very to yourself in your own little world with your own little things, it’s very beautiful.” Noah confessed. He was falling in love with you even though he just met you. He wanted to know more about you. Anything.
*time skip*👹
——
You woke up sheets still around you. It was 3am Vegas time. You’ve only been asleep for and hour and half. Noah was eating some room service he ordered (and took care of bill wise.), while he waited for you to get up. He was sitting in silence, phone on the table you didn’t know what he was eating but you know it looked good. Of course he ordered you some too.
You sat up covers still bunched around you as you took the sheet while walking outside onto the balcony. You got his attention. You were so quiet he didn’t even know you got up. He placed the food on the beside because following you outside.
You were over looking the strip. Right under you guys were the pools you were in earlier. It looked peaceful out even with all the noise.
He held you from behind as you held his arms around you. He kissed your exposed shoulder that the sheet was slipping from.
Then feeling cheeky you whispered to him.
“I’ve always wanted to have sex on a balcony, do you want to?” You smirked slightly feeling frisky at the idea. Idea of someone seeing or getting caught. But you didn’t care, with him you couldn’t care what was going on in the world, it was like your own little world with him.
Noah bought his phone out with him he set it on the outside table by you guys. “We can do that. We have the sheet to cover us too.” He smiled at idea of it. You could feel his boner pressing into your back knowing he was picturing the idea.
He reached for your clit, rubbing it lightly as you bite your lip from moaning too loud. He tested your entrance to find you were wet, but leaned down to spit directly on your hole.
You gasped loudly at the feeling. Noah smirked himself at your reaction, but he lowered his boxers and slowly pushed himself inside. You gripped the balcony so tight your knuckles turned white.
“Such a pretty view, with a pretty girl, and a tight cunt.”
He whispered into your ear, as he felt you tighten around him as he said that. He pushed more inside you till he was fully in stretching you out more than ever. It felt heavenly, he was the biggest you’ve ever had. He felt the best too.
He let you breathe a few times and steadied himself too since you were gripping him tight. He pulled out a little and pushed back in slowly to test to see how you would react. Your head fall back slightly at the feeling of him.
He knew he was good to move after that. He was so deep in you, you could feel him in your stomach, he had both hands on your hips you felt his skin slap against you slightly as he thrusted a little more shallowly, more desperate. You mistakenly let out a loud moan.
—— pool pov
“What the fuck was that?” Folio questioned as he sipped the margarita that they got from the pool bar they got before getting into the hot tub. He stole Noah’s sparkly pink hat that said “less naggin more gaggin” Davis wanted to get gag gifts for everyone.
“Mmm someone is lucky tonight probably.” Jolly mumbled before picking up his phone deciding to call Noah instead of texting him again.
—-
The phone went off right as he was going faster. He had to put his hand over your mouth to stop you from crying so loud. The sheet that was once over the both of you down was draped over the balcony shielding both of you.
Noah picked it up. Your eyes widen as you realized he was going to keep going. He looked at you with a look that looked along the lines of “be quiet”
Noah: “hey what’s up?”
Jolly: “dude where you been you’ve been gone for so long, I thought you might’ve flown back home.”
Noah: “I-i went walking on the strip, shopped a little bit…” he breathed as he picked up the pace more as you groaned into his hand. “And now I’m back at the hotel.”
Jolly: yeah we’re back at the hotel. You weren’t in your room. We’re just wondering where you are.” There was a pause between the both of them. Noah was hoping he wouldn’t ask what he was doing he felt it coming.
Jolly: “are you out of breathe?” Folio turned his head towards jolly. So did Davis, and Nicholas. Now they were all wondering what was going on.
Noah thought if something quit off the top of his head that would make sense between him and Jolly.
Noah: “yeah, my anxiety was getting bad so I decided to stop-p, by at the gym and workout a little bit.” He breathed as he felt you get closer and tighten around him. He was going fast like skin on skin slapping hoping that jolly couldn’t hear on the other line.
Jolly: “ah that makes sense.” Jolly looked up at the rooms and saw you guys without realizing it was you. So did Folio in the moment. “Someone is getting some on the balcony dude, wish you could see this.”
You groaned at the words you heard slightly panicking only to have Noah hold you against him as he went so face you saw stars and he had to hold the phone away to moan in your ear.
Noah: “gross man, give them some privacy it is Vegas after all. Let them enjoy themselves.” He laughed a little. “I’m going to-o head up to MY room, and I’ll see you guys tomorrow I’m tired.”
Noah ended the call without another word throwing it down on the table. He could feel how close you are. Jolly put his phone down with a weird look on his face.
“What?” David asked, curious as to what is going on and where Noah is.
“He’s up to something but you know how he covers up for what he’s really doing.” Jolly laughed a little before going back to the margarita that Folio got him.
“Fuck I’m so close Noah.” You cried, as he held you against him. His hand sneaked down to your clit rubbing it to get you closer, while he watched view of the fountains from the balcony. It was a beautiful sight with you.
You couldn’t hold it anymore so you released around him. He felt it, and pumped himself a few times before releasing into you. You were on birth control so it didn’t matter in the moment. He took the sheet and put it around both of you before heading back in the room with you.
He laid you down in the bed. He was still out of breath, while going to get a wet rag to clean you with.
“Thank you. For everything.” You whispered to him, making him flush at your words. “Of course baby.” He hasn’t heard anyone appreciate him in a long time. He placed a kiss to your lips. It was news to him, and was new to him. You laid back down with him giving him your phone number as well.
“I won’t be here in the morning, I have to be at the festival for my gig.” You looked at him remembering he was in a band, and he tours. Things would be complicated between the two of you.
You sigh, disappointed to not have more time, but happy with the time you spent with him. “I can give you a ticket so you can come if you’d like?” He invited you. But you knew Lily had some plans for you and the girls and it just wouldn’t work out.
“I’m sorry Noah, we have stuff planned and paid for tomorrow. But you can call me whenever you like and I would love to see you more.” You reassured him, even as disappointed as you both were you didn’t have more time together it was worth all of it.
—- *8 months later*
“You have arrived in Germany, welcome.”
The speaker announced over you as you walk to the man who flew you out here to see him.
“Welcome to Germany baby.” Noah embraced you as you walked to the car waiting for both of you.
A/N: holy fucking shit, hello. Glad you’re still with me.🧍🏻♀️👹 hope you enjoyed. I’m going to Vegas next month and got this idea on a whim. Don’t forget to like and repost and maybe they’ll be a part 2 🫶🏻🩶
Noah Sebastian x ofc
rating: explicit | warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex, dirty talk, light degradation, safe sex (we love a responsible king), fluff at the end because i'm soft
part one & two
GUYS. sixty notes on part one?? i genuinely was not expecting that and i'm so grateful, thank you to every single person who read, liked, reblogged, commented, you have no idea what it means to me. 🥹
so here we are. Part three and four. The slow burn pays off (finally) and noah gets to redeem himself from the green room incident. as always this was a gift for the lovely @choillly who started this whole thing by writing the best fic of the year and inspiring me to try. Love you babe, hope this one lives up. 💕
Also, yes, I made the graphics in Canva. The images came from Pinterest, and I genuinely have no idea who the original creators are, otherwise I would have credited them. And one last thing: English isn't my first language, so if you spot any mistakes, no you didn't 😭
Reminder that this is a work of fiction. I have absolutely no idea what noah sebastian is like in real life and i don't know if he's anything like this. Please don't take this as a representation of him as a person.
If you read this whole thing thank you, truly. Reblogs and comments feed my broke ficwriter soul more than you'll ever know, tell me your favorite line, scream at me in the tags, send me asks, i live for it.
You can find all my fics on ao3 too → LittleMalkavian
tag list: @choillysblog, lowergroundfloor, gayfiretruck
Part three: the problem of living with your hot mistake
Three weeks before the venue incident, you had arrived in Los Angeles with a suitcase, a cardboard box, and the specific energy of someone who is starting from zero and prefers not to think too much about it.
The ad had appeared in a Facebook group for students in LA that you followed more out of paranoia than actual use. Room available, shared apartment, two other residents, no pets, no smoking inside, questions in the direct messages. The price was the only one in the city that hadn't made you laugh with that sad laugh of someone being charged for oxygen.
You had messaged in ten minutes.
Rania was a woman in her fifties with short gray hair and the energy of a person who has already seen everything and is no longer impressed by anything, which you had found comforting. She had shown you the apartment with the efficiency of someone who had done this tour many times: room, shared bathroom, kitchen, living room that no one uses but exists.
— There are two other residents — she had said, consulting her notebook — A girl, works at night, you'll barely see her. And a guy, musician, travels a lot. Disappears for weeks.
— Cool — you had said, because it was. You weren't there to make friends. You were there to work, save money, and eventually have a life that didn't look like it was about to collapse.
You had unpacked your box, organized the shelf, and slept the heavy sleep of someone too exhausted to feel homesickness yet.
In the following days you had learned the anatomy of the apartment through traces. The coffee mug on the drying rack that wasn't yours, a pair of huge sneakers near the door that definitely weren't yours, the muffled sound of something that sounded like guitar coming through the hallway late at night. The ghost of the back bedroom existed in evidence without ever materializing.
Until the note.
You had opened the fridge on a Tuesday morning and your strawberry yogurt had disappeared. In its place there was a post-it stuck on the shelf with large and slightly crooked handwriting:
Took your yogurt by accident. I owe you one. — N
You had stared at the note for a second with an expression that had no name.
You had taken the post-it, turned it over, and written on the back:
You owe me two. It was strawberry which is the best flavor.
You had stuck it back on the shelf and gone to work.
When you came back at night there was another post-it next to two yogurts.
Valid argument. Two strawberry yogurts. — N
You had smiled at the post-it alone in the kitchen at eleven at night like a completely normal person.
And it had been like that for weeks. Post-its in the kitchen. Traces of a person who existed in parallel to your life without ever really crossing. Once you had come home and the stove was slightly warm and smelled of something that had been cooked recently, and you had stayed in the kitchen for an irrational second as if the presence were still there.
It wasn't.
It's better this way, you had thought. You didn't come to LA to get distracted.
You had made your dinner and gone to your room and not thought about it anymore.
You had tried not to think about it anymore.
The day off fell on a Thursday like an unsolicited but very welcome gift.
Five weeks. You had counted. Thirty-six consecutive days of work between the regular job and the weekend freelance gigs, and your body was at that point of tiredness that goes beyond physical and starts to look philosophical.
But it was Thursday. You had woken up at ten — at ten, a luxury that bordered on obscene — and stayed lying down for another twenty minutes just because you could, looking at your bedroom ceiling with your brain wonderfully empty.
Then you had gone to the kitchen in shorts and a faded band t-shirt, hair in a bun that was more intention than execution, and put water on to boil with the placidity of someone who owes nothing to anyone on this day.
You were with your back to the hallway, waiting for the water, when you heard footsteps.
You had forgotten, momentarily, that other people lived there.
— Hi.
The voice arrived before you turned. Deep, a little hoarse, with that specific kind of someone who had just woken up and hadn't made peace with the world yet.
You turned.
The world did that annoying thing it sometimes does, a small leap out of place for half a second before reorganizing.
He was standing at the entrance to the kitchen with a wrinkled white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, his hair in the way hair gets when a person has slept and hasn't yet made any decision about it. Tall, very tall. With that long body you knew, hat had been kept in a specific place in memory you had made considerable effort not to visit.
He had the expression of someone who came to get coffee and found a situation that was going to require processing.
You too.
The two of you stood frozen for exactly two seconds that seemed considerably longer.
You knew that face. You knew that face in a very specific and very detailed way that had absolutely nothing to do with a shared kitchen at ten in the morning on a Thursday.
— Hi — you said, with a perfectly normal voice of a person who had never seen this man before in her life.
— Hi — he said, equally normal.
A half-second pause in which the two of you made a silent and simultaneous choice.
— You must be the new resident.
— You must be the musician roommate.
— That's right.
— That's right.
He crossed the kitchen toward his cabinet with the naturalness of someone who does this every day, which, technically, he did, and you turned back to the stove because the water was almost boiling and you needed something to do with your hands and with your eyes and with the rest of your nervous system.
You heard the cabinet open, close. The chair being pulled out. The comfortable silence of an early morning kitchen that shouldn't have been as deafening as it was.
— How do you take your coffee? — he asked.
— Black and strong.
— Same as me.
You didn't turn. But the smile appeared before you could do anything about it.
— Must be the only thing we have in common — you said.
— It might not be the only thing — he said, and there was something in the tone that was too casual to be innocent.
You finally turned with the two prepared mugs and put one in front of him before sitting on the opposite side of the small table. He was looking at you with an expression you recognized, that corner of a smile that didn't reveal anything but made everything understood.
You held the gaze.
— What's your name? — you asked, because it was the natural thing to ask a roommate.
— Noah — he said. — And yours?
You said your name.
He repeated it slowly, testing the weight of the word.
— Pretty — he said.
— Thank you.
Silence, coffee, the morning sun came through the kitchen window making everything look slower than it was.
— What do you do? — he asked.
— Freelance mostly, but I have a regular job too. Trips. I work at an agency, actually — You wrapped your hands around the mug — You're a musician, Rania told me.
— I have a band.
— What kind of music?
He looked at you for a second with an expression hard to decipher.
— Metalcore. We scream childhood and religious traumas.
— Cool — you said, with the neutrality of someone who had never been at a rock show at a venue that changed the course of her adult life.
— You into that style?
— Sometimes — you said. — When the sound isn't blown out.
He let out a low sound that could be agreement or contained laughter, and you drank your coffee looking to the side. The two of you knew, neither one of you was going to say it.
— You have the day off today? — he asked.
— First in five weeks.
He raised his eyebrows.
— Me too. First in three.
The two of you sat with that for a second.
— We work too much — you said.
— We work too much — he agreed.
His mug was almost empty. So was yours. Neither one of you stood up.
Inside the small kitchen of Rania's apartment, two financially fucked people with a rare day off and a story neither one of them had named yet sat at the table drinking coffee as if the whole day were exactly that.
Part four: the day that explodes everything
Life had returned to the impossible rhythm of the two of you. Him disappearing for days when he had a show out of town, you spending weeks leaving before eight and coming back after ten, and every time the schedules coincided it was a small window that ended too quickly.
But in the following days the traces changed quality. It wasn't just the mug on the drying rack and the sneaker at the door anymore, it was a message on the board that had stopped being about yogurt and become just conversation, it was him leaving a yogurt for you in the fridge, it was you leaving coffee made when you heard him come home late because it had become automatic without you having decided that it would.
Until that fateful Thursday. The day everything exploded. And which was also the day off.
Breakfast had turned into lunch without either of you making a conscious decision about it. It had started with eggs. His idea, executed with a concentration you had found disproportionate for the activity.
— Why do you make that face? — you asked.
— What face?
— Neurosurgeon.
— Scrambled eggs have to have respect.
— Scrambled eggs are scrambled eggs.
— That's a crime and I'm going to pretend I didn't hear it.
The two of you had eaten at the kitchen table with Thursday sun in everything, and the conversation had continued and unfolded and ended up in places that kitchen conversations don't normally go. Work, choices, the things you give up when you decide that something matters more than the comfort of not taking risks.
He had talked about the band with the kind of honesty people normally save for when they've known you for longer. You had talked with anger about the airlines that took away your peace with more sincerity than usual, including the parts that weren't glorious.
At some point you had migrated to the living room. At some point you had ended up facing each other on the couch. At some point the distance between you had decreased in a way that neither of you had consciously initiated but both of you had allowed.
Noah had his elbow propped on the back of the couch and his head in his hand, looking at you with that look, and you had reached a point where sustaining the fiction seemed more exhausting than simply stopping.
— Why didn't you say anything? — you asked.
He tilted his head slightly.
— Because you didn't say anything. And it seemed like you had a reason for it.
— My reason was that it was easier to pretend it hadn't happened.
— And now?
You looked at him for a full second.
— Now it's being very hard to keep pretending.
He didn't say anything. He just moved, slowly, without hurry, without any performative urgency, and put his hand on your face in a way that was simple and completely devastating at the same time.
— Then don't pretend — he said, very low.
The kiss was different from the first one.
The first one had been urgent, full of the energy of a night with an expiration date. This one was slow, the kind that builds before delivering. His hand on your face moving to your hair, you getting closer without conscious decision, the two finding a rhythm that seemed familiar in a way that shouldn't be possible in two people who had spent months pretending not to know each other.
You put your hand on his chest and felt his breathing faster than his calm voice suggested, and that made you want to smile in the middle of the kiss, he noticed and pulled back a millimeter to look at you.
He was looking at you in that way. The one you had learned to recognize over a few days and post-its and shared coffees and almost-moments in the hallway, firm and unhurried, like someone who has already made a decision and is simply waiting for the right moment to say it out loud.
You hadn't seen him without clothes yet. That was the first thought — clear and completely inconvenient — when he pulled his t-shirt over his head and threw it aside with no ceremony at all, like someone who has no awareness of the effect he's causing.
You stared.
He was thin in the way musicians sometimes are, not careless, just natural, the kind that carries its own weight well without needing to announce it. But the tattoos. You weren't prepared for the tattoos. Spread across his chest, his arms, going down his forearm with that quality of a collection built over time, each one with its story, and the sum of everything was anything but discreet.
— What is it? — he asked, with that tone.
— Nothing — you said, with the voice of someone who is clearly lying.
— You're looking at me in a very weird way.
— I'm processing.
— Again?
— You have a lot of tattoos.
— I do — he agreed, without any remorse.
— That's a problem.
— Why is it a problem?
— Because I already had enough of a problem with you clothed.
He let out that low laugh, and then he was kissing you again and the processing went to the same place all the other useful thoughts had gone that night.
You couldn't piece together a timeline between the living room couch and his bedroom. But when you noticed, the rest of the clothes were gone too. His, yours, without hurry but without hesitation, and when you finally ended up with nothing between you he stood looking at you for a second with that whole attention, from top to bottom and back to your eyes, lingering enough not to be discreet.
— Holy shit… — he started — You're definitely the prettiest girl I've ever had…
— Liar… — you said, feeling your cheeks burn.
You laughed, and he took the moment to pull you back to him, and the laughter went away immediately because the contact without clothes was new and overwhelming information to process all at once.
You already knew. You knew since the green room, knew since the lap on that old couch, but without clothes and with enough light to see there was a considerable difference between knowing and confirming and you confirmed, with your hand and then with your eyes, that the problem was exactly as big as your memory had registered.
He let out a sound that was half laugh, half something else, and pressed his forehead to yours for a second.
— You have no idea — he said, low — How much I wanted to do this the right way.
— Do what?
— This. — His mouth went to your jaw, your throat, the place just below your ear that made your breath catch — All of it. The first time, at the venue.
— You did plenty.
— Not what I wanted.
You felt the smile against your skin before you saw it.
— I wanted to eat you out — he said, simply, like it was a confession he had been holding for too long — That night. I thought about it the whole way back to home. About how I didn't get to taste you.
Your hand stopped on his shoulder.
— You're telling me this now?
— I'm telling you this now.
— Noah...
— What?
— That's information that could've been useful weeks ago.
He laughed against your collarbone, low and a little dark, and the laugh turned into teeth on your skin.
— The first day I saw you in the kitchen — he said, his mouth moving down your sternum — Fuck the coffee. I would've bent you over that counter and fucked you right there, with the water still boiling.
— Jesus...
— I thought about it for weeks. Every time you walked into the kitchen. Every time you left one of those fucking post-its. Every time I heard the shower running and knew you were in there.
— You can't say things like that...
— Why not?
— Because...
— Bad answer.
He kept going down, his hands warm on your hips, on your thighs, mapping you with the same patient attention he had brought to everything else except patient was starting to look like a different word now, something with more teeth in it. He paused at the inside of your knee, at the soft place above it, at your thigh, and looked up at you from there with an expression that wasn't shy at all anymore. It was hungry, and it was unapologetic about being hungry.
— Look at this fucking pussy — he said, almost to himself — I've been thinking about this for weeks.
You made a sound that wasn't a word.
— Is this okay?
You nodded because words were currently a complicated technology.
— I need to hear it, baby.
— Yes.
— Yeah?
— Yes, please...
The please did something to his face, you saw it happen.
— That's it — he said, low — That's what I wanted.
And he lowered his mouth to you.
The sound that left you was not a sound you had given permission for.
He was not careful in the way that means tentative. He was careful in the way that means he had been planning this for a long time and was going to take what he wanted. His hands stayed on your thighs holding you open with a firmness that left no room for negotiation, and the noises he was making against you — low, hungry, the occasional muffled fuck into the inside of your thigh when he came up for breath — were almost worse than what his mouth was doing, except nothing was worse than what his mouth was doing, because what his mouth was doing was the best thing that had happened to your life.
He paused once. Just long enough to look up at you, your hand half-buried in his hair, your other hand in the sheet, your whole body asking for something it couldn't name.
— You taste so fucking good — he said, with the seriousness of a man reporting a fact — I'm going to be eating this pussy for hours. You know that, right?
— Noah...
— Say it.
— I...
— Tell me you know.
— I know — you managed.
— Good girl.
You felt that in your spine.
He went back to what he was doing with renewed commitment, and now there was nothing patient about it. Now it was a man who had decided what he was going to do and was simply doing it, the rhythm relentless, his tongue exactly where you needed it, his hands holding you in place when your hips tried to move away from the intensity of it.
— Stay still — he said, against you, and it wasn't a request — Take it.
You tried to say his name and it came out as something else entirely. The ceiling of his bedroom became a fixed point you stared at without seeing because seeing required processing power you no longer had available.
When he hummed against you — low, satisfied, like he had found exactly what he was looking for — you felt it all the way through.
— Come on — he said, the words rough against you — Cum in my tongue, baby. I want to feel it.
That was all it took.
You came with your hand fisted in his hair and his name in your mouth for the second time, and he didn't stop, he stayed with you through every wave of it, pulling every last sound out of you with the focus of someone who had no intention of being done anytime soon. Only when your hips stopped trying to escape him, when your breathing started to remember what it was for, only then did he climb back up your body with a slowness that felt almost cruel after everything else.
He kissed you on the mouth before you could think about whether you wanted that and you tasted yourself on him, and he made sure you did, his tongue in your mouth with the same intention he had brought to everything else.
— I told you — he said, low, his face inches from yours — Worth the wait.
— I'm going to kill you.
— Later. — He smiled, that quiet certain smile, the one that meant he had already made his decision about what came next — I'm not done with you.
He reached over to the nightstand without taking his eyes off you, and the drawer opened with the familiar sound of someone who knew exactly where things were. The foil packet appeared between his fingers a second later.
— Responsible adult — you said, your voice still wrecked.
— Told you.
You watched him roll it on with the kind of attention you would deny later if asked. He noticed.
— Like what you see?
— Shut up.
— Make me.
You pulled him down by the back of his neck and kissed him to do exactly that, and he laughed into your mouth, and then he wasn't laughing anymore.
He started on top, and this time there was no green room, there were no clothes in the way, there was no lamp flickering creating artificial urgency. There were just the two of you with enough time and no reason to be in a hurry, and the difference was considerable.
He entered you slowly, slow enough that you felt every inch of it, slow enough that your hands closed on his back before you remembered making the decision to put them there. His forehead pressed to yours, his breath uneven against your mouth, and when he was finally as deep as he was going to get he stayed there for a second, not moving, just letting you both feel it.
— Fuck — he said, very quietly — You feel even better than I remembered.
— Noah...
— Yeah?
— Move.
— Yeah?
— Please.
He made a sound at that, low, a little broken, and started to move.
The rhythm built itself, deep and constant, the kind that doesn't let you think about anything else besides what's happening now. His mouth went to your neck, your shoulder, your mouth, and you felt when he stopped measuring and started simply moving, his weight on you exactly right, the tattoos under your fingers while you explored his back without hurry.
— Look at you — he said, his voice doing something to the skin behind your ear — Taking it so well.
You couldn't answer. He didn't seem to need you to.
— You have any idea — he said, between deep, deliberate thrusts that were making it actively harder to remember language — How many times I jerked off thinking about this exact moment? How many fucking times?
— Noah, oh my God...
— Every time. Every time you walked past my bedroom door. Every time I heard the shower.
— You can't...
— I can.
He punctuated it with a thrust that pushed every remaining thought out of your head, and you made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and something else entirely, and he caught it with his mouth.
— You okay? — he asked, low, his mouth in your ear.
— Very — you said, which continued being the most honest answer available.
At some point he rolled onto his back and took you with him, his hands on your hips anchoring you, and you settled on top of him with a deliberate slowness that made a sound come out of his chest before it could be held back.
— Jesus, fuck — he said, looking up at you with something close to reverence — Look at you.
— Stop looking at me like that.
— Like what?
— Like that.
— Get used to it.
His hands stayed on your hips accompanying without directing, letting you take what you wanted at the pace you wanted it. And you took. The rhythm you chose was slow at first, deliberate, watching him watch you, watching his jaw work when you came down on him in a particular way, watching the muscles in his stomach tighten when you held still and made him wait.
— You're killing me — he said, voice wrecked.
— You'll live.
— Baby...
— What?
— Faster.
— Ask nicely.
His hands tightened on your hips. Something flashed in his face that was new, not impatient, not exactly, but close to it.
— Please.
You gave him what he wanted because you wanted it too, and the sounds he started making then were not sounds he was trying to make, low and stuttered and entirely involuntary, his head falling back against the pillow, his hands moving up to your waist, your ribs, finding your breasts and staying there like he had been waiting for permission to.
— That's it — he was saying, half to you, half to nothing — That's it, just like that, fuck, you're so fucking pretty when you ride me...
Your climax arrived with you on top of him, your fingers pressed on his tattooed chest and his name in your mouth, and he stayed with you, his hands squeezing, until your hips slowed and your breathing started to come back.
You stayed quiet for a moment, collapsed forward onto his chest, his hand stroking down your back.
Then he flipped you onto your stomach, with his hands on your hip and a care that was anything but shy, and you barely had time to register the change of position before he was inside you again, deeper in this angle, his mouth on your back, your shoulder, the nape of your neck.
— Okay? — he said, against your skin.
— Yes.
— You sure?
— Noah, please...
He laughed, low and a little dark, and gave you what you were asking for. In this position there was nothing leisurely left in him. His hand went into your hair, not pulling, just holding, just keeping you exactly where he wanted you, and the other stayed on your hip with a grip you were going to find bruises from in the morning and not mind even a little. You buried your face in the pillow and let it happen, the sounds coming out without control because the bedroom was his and you didn't have to worry about anything else besides what was happening now.
— This pussy — he was saying, more to himself than to you — Fucking Christ. I knew it was going to be like this. I knew.
You made a sound into the pillow.
— What was that, baby? I can't hear you.
You turned your head sideways enough to breathe.
— Don't stop...
— Wasn't planning to.
The last time was with your leg on his shoulder, and in that position there was something different. More intense, more deep, more everything, and he went slowly at the beginning with his eyes on you, checking, watching your face for anything that wasn't yes and when you said keep going with a conviction that left no doubt he continued and stopped measuring completely.
— Look at me — he said, somewhere in the middle of it.
You opened your eyes.
— Stay with me.
— I'm here.
— Yeah you are.
He kissed you then, deep and a little desperate, and when he pulled back his face was inches from yours and he was watching you like you were the only thing in the room.
— You gonna come for me one more time?
— I can't...
— Yes you can.
— Noah...
— One more, baby. One more. I want to feel it.
His hand went down between you and you broke open under it the way you always did, the way he had figured out within minutes of touching you the first time and had been using against you ever since.
You came for the last time with him deep and your eyes closed and a specific clarity of someone who is exactly where she needs to be, and he came right after, his face going to your neck, a sound leaving him that was almost a word and almost wasn't, his hands on you as always as if he needed to hold onto something, as if you were the most solid thing available in the room.
He stayed next to you, his breathing coming back slowly, and you stayed looking at the ceiling of his room that had become familiar in a way you hadn't planned and no longer minded having planned.
The silence that came after was the good kind, the kind that doesn't need anything.
He rolled onto his side at some point, his head on the pillow next to yours, and stayed there just looking at you, not saying anything, just looking, with that quiet attention that had been the problem from the very beginning and was clearly going to continue being the problem.
— What? — you said, finally.
— Nothing.
— You're staring.
— I am.
— Why?
He took a moment before he answered. His finger traced the line of your collarbone, slow, like he was learning it.
— I kept thinking about you — he said, low — Many times. Since we met here at home.
You stayed quiet, waiting.
— No — he corrected himself — Before that. Since the venue. I kept thinking about you since the venue.
— Yeah?
— Yeah.
His finger stopped at the dip of your throat.
— That night was insane, by the way — he said, with a small laugh that didn't have a lot of humor in it — I wanted to fuck you so bad. From the moment you said the show was shit, honestly. But when you suggested… that. — He shook his head, still half in disbelief — I was not expecting it.
— You weren't?
— No. — His mouth pulled into a half-smile — I mean, I wanted you. Obviously. But I figured we'd just, I don't know, exchange numbers and try again another time. The fact that you just… offered an alternative.
— I was determined.
— You were terrifying.
You laughed.
— I went home that night and I genuinely couldn't process it — he said — I kept thinking, who was that? Who does that? Who looks a guy in the eye and says fuck me anyway?
— Apparently me.
He shook his head again, smiling now for real.
— I thought I was never going to see you again — he continued, with that defenseless honesty that was completely him — I left the bathroom, came back, and you were gone, and I was like…
He paused and started again.
— I was nervous for weeks.
— Nervous why?
He looked at you in a way that was too serious to be casual.
— Because I was afraid I had done something wrong to you. That I hadn't been careful enough, that you had left feeling bad and I would never know. I really hated not knowing.
Something in your chest did something complicated.
— You were perfect — you said — It was the most careful thing anyone has ever done with me.
You watched something in his face loosen, slowly, like a knot that had been held for a long time and was finally letting go.
— Yeah?
— Yeah.
He let out a breath he had clearly been holding for weeks.
— I kept thinking about you since that day at the venue too — you said, after a moment — Much more than I should have.
— How much more?
— A concerning amount.
— Tell me.
— No.
— Please?
— You're not getting that information out of me today.
He smiled at that, slow and pleased, and pulled you a little closer.
— Fine — he said — I'll get it out of you later.
— Confident.
— Realistic.
You laughed against his shoulder, and he laughed too, the sound low in his chest where your ear was pressed.
— It was the craziest experience of my life — he said, after a moment — An old couch, a flickering lamp, a stranger who had just told me my show was shit, and then proceeded to be the most unforgettable person I've ever met.
— That's a lot of weight on one sentence.
— I meant every word.
You went quiet, your fingers absent on his chest, tracing one of the tattoos there without really looking.
— The sound was shit, by the way — you said — The band is good. Important distinction. You said it yourself.
— You remember that?
— I remember everything.
He went quiet for a second. When he spoke again his voice was different, softer, with something underneath it.
— Me too.
The distance that remained between you was just formality now. You felt it close before either of you moved.
— You're gonna want to do that again — he said.
You raised your gaze.
— That a question?
— A statement.
— Confident.
— Realistic.
You laughed.
— You're not wrong.
— I know.
— But not today.
— No?
— No. I literally cannot move.
He let out a small laugh against your hair.
— Fair.
— Tomorrow, maybe.
— Tomorrow's good.
— Day after, definitely.
— Even better.
He went quiet for a second, his hand sliding down your back, slow.
— For tonight — he said, low — I just want to eat you out again.
You stopped breathing for a second.
— Noah.
— What?
— You can't just say things like that.
— Why not?
— Because I just told you I can't move.
— You don't have to move. That's the whole point.
You closed your eyes and his mouth went to your temple, to your hair, slow and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. Which, you were starting to realize, he kind of did.
— Later — he said, against your hair — When you can move again. I'll do it right.
— You did it right the first time.
— I'll do it better.
You made a small sound that you would deny later if asked, he pulled you closer without ceremony, his arm settling around you with that naturalness that still caught you off guard. You let him. Your head on his chest, his hand stroking slow up and down your back, the breathing of the two of you finding the same rhythm and staying there.
Outside, Los Angeles crossed its own existence without paying attention to you.
Summary: you went to a party with your boyfriend vessel, ended up getting overwhelmed and hid in a coroner until he noticed and calmed you down by kissing your neck and hugging you. After a few hours you also tease him and he dragged you to a bathroom and finger fucked you.
Warnings: drinking, chokeing, public sex, panic attack., a sort of sh?,.
Parts of the story darker and more sad before the smut.
Smut below the cut.
As you were laying in bed still cuddled up in vessels arms, everything felt overwhelming and all too much but you needed to get up. You needed to shower and get ready for the party that was happening later that night. Now your not really the biggest fan of parties
You groaned and wiggled in vessels arms, but he pulled you closer “no.. stay in my arms baby” he whispered in your ear “Ves… I need to shower.. We have that party remember", all you get in response is him rolling so you're pinned under him, your wrists quickly up and held in place above your head with one of his hands. As you two make eye contact you squirm up a small bit, mainly due to the position you're in, he smirks knowing what he's doing to you, knowing it works you up.
He lets out a low chuckle and gets off you before standing up.
“Go shower now, we need to get ready for that party, remember?" you nod as you scramble to get up and head to the shower.
After you shower and once you and vessel were both done getting ready, you head to the party venue.
It was all going good, you were talking to people, vessel had a right yet not painful grip on around your waist, making sure everyone knew that you were his.
“So vess? Want a beer?” III asked, holding out an extra one, the bottle already opened. Vessel shakes his head no.
“No thanks III, Im trynna quit” III nods as he takes a swig of his own beer before handing off the other bottle to II.
You look over your shoulder at II as he calls your name, you twist in Vessel's grip so you're facing him. You see II pouring the beer into a glass before he pulls out a redbull and starts mixing the beer and redbull into one glass.
“What”
“Wanna come dance with me?”
You looked up at vessel and gave you a look that says it's okay to go, he trusts II, he trusts I won't do anything weird or sexual to you. He also knows you and II are friends, you wouldn't even dream of you dating II since you only had eyes for him.
Before you go to walk away you turn to vessel and grab his shirt, pulling him down and kissing him. The kiss is gentle at first, but quickly becomes rough and desperate. Vessel moves one hand to your hip and the other to your hair titling your head back so he can deepen the kiss.
He pulls back and a string of saliva connects your bottom lip to his.
“Go have fun and dance love” vessel whispers in your ear as he lets go of your hair and smooths it out.
He gently slaps your ass making you giggle as you turn back around and walk over to II.
He links his arm with yours as you two move to the maina area of the venue, where there were a lot more people there all dancing and having a good time, laughing and giggling.
Vessel is sitting at a table, talking among some friends as you dance and talk to II, you try to focus on him and not the people surrounding you.
You manage to focus on II for a while before you start to feel a tightness in your chest. You try to ignore it for a couple more moments before you just freeze. Hands letting go of II, your shaking and your breathing catching more before you run off without a word. You run into the bathroom, the door slams behind you as you fall to the floor.
Once your body hits the floor you throw your head back against the wall. Tears stream out of your eyes, all over your dress and hands as you grip your thighs roughly leaving small crescents on them.
Meanwhile II just shrugs and goes back to talking with other people before he notices that you didn't return so he goes up to your boyfriend thinking maybe you ran back to him
.
“Hey is y/n not back with you yet?” he asked.
“No? I thought she was still with you” Vessel looked up from where he was sitting. His eye Barrows knit together in a confused and anger almost behind his eyes.
“Yeah.. She was but then kinda just ran off”
II looked down, worried for where you went, Vessel stood up as he sighed.
“Okay go look at that area and I'll go look over here. Call me if you find her”
II nodded at Vessels worried command and ran off to go look for you. He was unsuccessful until he ran into IV.
“Man, why are you running around like a chicken with your head cut off?” IV would ask as he planted a gentle hand on II's shoulder.
“Lost y/n. Well more like she ran away, and Vess might just make me a chicken with my head cut off” he laughed nervously. Scratching the back of his neck. Worry is clear in his voice.
“Oh dude she ran that way” Iv stated as he pointed to the bathrooms.
“Thanks” was all IV heard before II ran off to the bathroom.
He entered and froze in whole as he saw you.
Hands tugging roughly at your hair, eyes and face red, eyes streaming waterfalls and you banging your head on the well. He was aware of your panic attacks. But never seen you have one this badly.
He assumed since your normally with Vessel he managed to calm you down before they got bad.
“Hey y/n-”
“GO AWAY! GO AWAY!” was your only reply. To lost in your mind to calm down and bring yourself back to the real world. II sighed and left the bathroom, finding Vessel and telling him what he saw.
II didn't even get half his words out before Vessel darted off to the bathroom. He walked in without knocking. He quickly shuts and locks the door before going up to you.
“Hey baby” he says softly, crouching down in front of you. You try to push him away but don't succeed since he quickly moves one hand to grab your wrists gently and holds it in your lap.
“Let go of me!!” You cry out and hit your head on the wall again.
“Not until you calm down”
You hit your head again and try to free yourself but Vessel keeps his firm yet gentle grasp on your wrists before he stands up and pulls you back to your feet, before he quickly pulls you into his chest, hugging you tightly and whispering soft things into your ear in hopes to calm you down.
You managed to pull back from him after a few moments before falling back to the floor he lets go of your wrists and sits down beside you and gently pulls you into his lap.
He wraps his arms around your waist to hold you in place, his hands falling onto your thighs as he rests his head on your shoulder, breathing softly.
Your body tenses up at the touch and movement of him before you feel his hands on your hips, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles over your hip bones.
“Baby deep breaths for me and focus on my voice baby”
When Vessel notices how tense your body is as you let out a shaky breath as you listen to his voice. You listen to how deep yet soothing it is.
He knew that even if you try to push him away and scream at him that holding you closely and physical contact will help sooth you.
“Shh baby it's okay, just breathe with me ready?”
You don't answer as tears and sobs become silent, the water still rolling down your face.
“Deep breath in… and hold it” he whispers as he counts down from five to zero, he repeats this a few times until your breathing is no longer heavy and panicked. Until your chest goes up and falls down at a more normal pace.
“There we go, good girl”
You blush at the phrase but look down and grab a hold of Vessel's fingers and start to gently play with them. He lets you and you two sit in the bathroom for a while longer before you speak. He waited until you spoke first not wanting to pressure you into talking quite yet.
“Thabk you” was all you could manage to whisper out. Your voice is soft and quiet.
“Of course love, so do you want to tell me what caused this panic attack?”
You nod and rest your head on his shoulder, your face tilting up.
“There was.. To many people.. I couldn't see you either and I felt like everyone was staring and judging me. It was too loud and overwhelming.”
He nods understanding that, you having ADHD and anxiety along with other things it was hard for you to regulate your emotions.
After a few more minutes of just sitting there so you could fully calm down he starts to kiss your neck gently, another way to help you. You let out a soft squeak and hold his fingers more firmly.
He chuckles and moves his hands from yours and plants them on your thighs, due to your dress bunching up higher on you. He squeezes his nails a bit into your soft flesh as he leaves more wet kisses on your neck.
“V-Vess-”
“Hm? What's wrong, my love?”
“I- what are you doing?” you asked, breathing hitching a bit as he bites into your sensitive neck. Trying to maintain composure.
“Making you feel better”
“By making me horny?”
He nods and bits down again, earning a moan from you. One hand slides up your bunched dress and closer to your pussy.
“Vess- but”
“Shh, I can stop if you want me to”
“No.. please dont.. But we are in a party bathroom”
“So? We fucked in worse places baby”
Your face turns red, remembering all the other public spots you two have had intercosure in. you quickly pulled from that thought as you felt Vessel's index and middle finger slowly dance across your already wet pussy.
“Fuck your so wet I can feel you even throguh your underwear”
You whimper out again and start to rock your hips down onto his fingers. He lets out a low chuckle in your ear before moving your underwear to the side and slipping his fingers inside of you.
You moan at the feeling, loving his fingers inside you, your pussy clutches around him as he slowly pulls his fingers out before thrusting them back in.
His pace is slow at first, his free hand sliding under your dress to palm and play with your breasts, alternating between one to the other. His fingers pinch and twist your nipples a bit making you moan louder.
His pace quickens, becoming more brutal and rough. You grab ahold of his wrist and moan his name loudly, loud enough other people could hear.
“Shhh baby I dont want others to hear your sweet moans” you hear Vessel grunt and move his hand from your breasts to your mouth, covering it to muffle some of your noises. Although he loves the sounds you make and how loud you get, he didn't want to get kicked out of the party.
As he keeps his steady pace your pussy starts to confuse more, tightening around his fingers as your back arches off his chest. You moan loudly even though his hand. Your moans just get louder as you come closer to your release.
Vessel removes his hand from your mouth not giving a damn any more as he keeps fingering you, he starts biting and leaving huskies all over your collar bone and neck. You're about to come before he stops, leaving his fingers inside of you.
“Why-”
“Beg for realse”
You whine at his words as his free hand moves to grip your throat, to choke you a bit. You moan as he cuts off your air way a bit.
“Vessel please..please I need to cum”
“Beg harder”
“Vessel! Please. Please let me cover your fingers in ym cum. Please let me make your hand smell like my cum”
He stays silent for a second, before ramming his fingers back into you roughly. He lets go of your neck a bit but keeps his hand wrapped around your throat.
“Then fucking cum on my fingers, prinsece”
With his words and his fingers working magic inside of you, you let out a loud moan of his name as your cum coats his fingers. He waits for you to come down from your high a bit, by keeping his movements up, but softer and gentle this time. He lets go of your throat so he could lean down into you.
When he leans down he bites the sensitive spot on your neck and sucks roughly as he pulls his fingers out of you. You let go on his wrist and let out deep, sharp pants. He brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks off your arousal and cum, smiling down at you as you had turned on his lap to now be facing him.
“Fuck, you taste so good”
You become red, even more than before as he leans down and kisses you. You're able to taste yourself in his mouth. You two kiss for a bit before you break it. Pulling back to look at him, eyes half lidded and hair messy.
“Feel better?”
“Fuck you” you roll your eyes at his dumb question, knowing he asked it to tease you a bit.
“But yes.. I do feel better thanks.. For everything”
His smile gets wider before he kisses you softly again.
After the kiss he stands up, still holding you as he walks over to the sink and counter. He places you gently down on it as he grabs some paper towel, turning the tap on and damping it.
He cleans you up before making you stand up on your feet to help fix your dress and hair. After cleaning up you two walk back out into the venue, people still talking and dancing with each other, nobody seemed to notice you being gone, or you moaning so loudly the whole building could have heard you, but thanks to the amount of people and how loud the music was it was unlikely.
For the rest of the night you stayed beside Vessel, not like you had much of a choice, you could hardly walk without stumbling over yourself.
Summary: vessel was teasing you and you picked to tease him back during a show, little did you know how it would end in you being railed by him.
Warnings:
- unprotected sex
- hair pulling
- a bit of degrading
theres also probably more I forgot
Sorry this ones shorter
Smut below the cut
It was an hour before the show and everyone was getting ready. I was in my dressing room putting on the black body paint and clothing on.
After I was done getting ready I left the dressing room area and went into the backstage area and was talking with some of the other band members until it was time to go on stage. I grabbed my guitar and headed out, getting into position and waiting for the first song to start.
As the song started and as the concert went on I waited for the right time to put my idea I had earlier into play, seeing as Vessel kept teasing me before we were on stage and he teased me as we were on the tour bus. I couldn't handle it any more, the teasing was making me horny and I needed to do something about it soon, and so I did, as vessel was sitting down singing and playing “fall for me” I went up to him and sat down on his lap, causing him to hitch his voice a bit and trying to keep it steady despite the fact he couldn't I chuckled and grinned on him a bit before getting up and continuing to play my guitar.
After the show and the teasing of us back and forth, he grabbed my waist as I was about to walk to my dressing room, he pulled me into his and closed and locked the door. He pushed me onto the sofa that was in the room as he climbed on top of me gripping my hair roughly and leaning down kissing me.
I moan softly and grip the back of his head to try and pull him closer.
He grinned down on me slightly making me moan and buck my hips trying to feel more, he did this a few times until I pushed him off and straddled his lap, gripping his shoulder softly and looking down. He chuckles and moves one hand to my hip and the other to my hair and softly pulling my head back, I moan softly and he leans towards me and kisses me deeply and roughly. I let out soft whimpers as I grind down on him and pretty much humping his thighs.
I do this till he removes the hand from my hair and moves me onto his dick. I let out a lewd moan and slowly started to ride him, he chuckles and groans gripping my hips and starts to move me up and down. Slowly at first then rougher and faster.
“Fuck your so good for me baby~” he groaned into my ear making me blush and hide my face in his chest.
“Your taking me so good baby~ ngh~ keep going like this and i'll cum in you slut”
I let out a needy moan in response and look up at him and kiss him as I start to moan loudly feeling my climax coming.
“Nghh~ c-close v-vess” I moan out and bounce myself roughly on him as he moves his face to be in contact with my neck and starts to bite it roughly.
“Cum for me baby~ cum on my dick like the cum slut you are baby~” with those words I do just that and cum all over him, I feel as his grip on my hips tighten and his thrusts become sloppy and harsh as he cums in me. The room is filled with loud and needy moans and groans, heavy pants and breathing.
After a few minutes of us riding out highs down he pulls me off his dick and pucks me up bringing me to the bathroom before running a bath and placing me in. he helped wash myself and then he did the same for himself before getting out and drying the two of us off and taking us back to get changed and to sleep.
Summary: You and Noah discover a new kink that he’s really into..
Content Warning: Established relationship, smut (unprotected p in v), heavy on the breeding kink/creampie, talk about birth control, teasing, light joking/spanking, Noah trying to keep it dom but he’s kinda pussy whipped hehe
Masterlist Taglist
18+ MDNI
Noah sat across from you at the dinner table in your apartment. Cleared plates sat between the two of you. A comfortable silence filled the air as you finished eating. He had barely been available the last few weeks, spending most of his time post-tour and pre-festival season in the studio. A relaxing night in was much overdue. Noah picked up the plates and walked them into the kitchen, scraping the remnants of dinner into the garbage before moving to the sink. Your phone lit up on the counter, buzzing as an alarm filled the screen. Noah turned off the water and picked up your phone, studying it with a furrowed brow.
“What’s ‘bc’?” he asked, confused.
“Oh, it's my alarm to take my birth control” you said, shuffling over to take your phone. You walked to your bag and pulled out the small blister packet. “I have to take it at the same time every day.”
“Oh, okay” he responded softly. He thought for a second. “Since when have you been on that?”
“Only 3 or 4 weeks” you replied, popping the pill in your mouth and washing it down, “I thought because, you know, things are getting a lot more serious between us, and with my new job and your music career exploding it might be good to be extra careful I guess”
Noah nodded quietly. “It doesn’t make you sick or anything does it? I know there can be a lot of side effe-” You cut his concerned rambling off, a soft smile on your lips.
“Noah, I'm fine. I did a lot of research and I feel great, if anything there's just added benefits.” you said, shrugging your shoulders alluringly.
“What do you mean?” he questioned. The concerned look had left his face and he spoke carefully, stepping towards you and placing his hands on your hips.
“Well, a more regular cycle, clearer skin,” you took a step closer to him and eyed him up and down with a sultry look, “...no condoms…. You can finish inside me.” You teasingly dragged a finger down his chest to the buckle of his belt, looking up into his deep brown eyes. “Have you ever done that before?”
“No.” he answered flatly. Noah’s eyes darkened and his expression was unreadable. He didn’t say a word, just picked you up over his shoulder, tattooed hand resting on your ass. You giggled as he walked to the bedroom and plopped you onto the bed with a light thud. He wasted no time, his hands roamed up and down your body toying at your breasts through your shirt. He kissed you feverishly and heat pooled low in your core. You shifted further onto the bed and he followed you. He reached behind his head and tugged his shirt off, leaving wisps of hair falling over his face. Your eyes raked down his tattooed body and you followed suit, slipping your shirt over your head. Noah cupped your face with one hand and pulled you towards him gently, planting a soft kiss to your lips.
“When were you gonna tell me, huh?” he asked, thumb gently brushing your bottom lip.
“I don’t know, I didn’t even think about it I guess. I-”
“Mhmm” his hand slipped down to your throat, gripping gently and cutting off your rambling. “I could have been fucking you raw, feeling your warm wet pussy around my cock, and filling you up with my cum this whole time…and you didn’t think you should tell me?” His grip tightened slightly. Wetness pooled in your panties at his words and you let out a soft whimper. The anxious boy, always so vigilant and careful, was gone. You took back the upper hand, deciding to take a bold step.
“You wanna breed me, Noah?” You asked, fluttering your lashes innocently. He threw his head back and screwed his eyes shut, letting out a deep groan as his grip on your throat loosened. “Is that a yes baby?” you asked, raising your brows expectantly. He pressed his forehead to yours and you wrapped your arms around his neck. He breathed out a quiet yes.
“Then take me.”
He gently pushed you down to the bed and your head rested against the pillows. He desperately tugged at his belt, removing the rest of his clothes like you could have disappeared at any moment. You hooked your thumbs into your panties and stripped them off before Noah positioned himself over you. His hand cupped your heat and his fingertips gently dipped into your core.
“So wet” he praised, “You like the thought of that? You want to be filled by me so badly, don’t you?”
You ground your clip against his palm to find some relief, whimpering out a soft yes in reply. He lined himself up at your entrance and a hint of hesitation shone in his eyes as he met yours.
“.. you sure?” He asked.
“Yes. It's okay, I promise” You reassured him with a soft smile and brushed the strands of hair from his eyes. At that he thrusted into your dripping pussy, immediately cursing at the feeling of you around him. He had never felt you, or anyone, bare like this before. He settled into a euphoric pace, rolling his hips into yours, leaving you a moaning mess. You could feel every ridge, every vein heightening the sensations.
“Goddamnit you feel so fuckin good” he huffed through heavy pants “So wet and warm and tight.” Feeling him fully like this sent tingles up your spine. He pulled out and rolled you over, dragging your hips up so your ass met his hard length and your face laid flat on the mattress. He thrusted into you and gripped your hips hard. You rocked forward as his hips snapped into you repeatedly and you peered over your shoulder at Noah. His muscles flexed and sweat was beginning to bead across his forehead. Pleasure rippled across his face and every so often he stilled, gritting his teeth and wincing.
“You good back there?” you asked teasingly.
He replied, voice strained and gravely, “Yup, just don’t want this to be over too soon.”
You laughed at his restraint, cut off with a loud yelp as his palmed smacked against your ass.
“Laugh again and you’re not getting a single fucking drop.” He said firmly. Your pussy clenched around him at his demeanor and he gripped your hips in response. “Now get on your back and beg me to fill you.”
You were lost for words.You flipped around and settled into the mattress, spreading your thighs for him. The sight of him alone was devastating, his eyes were glazed over with lust, tattoos trailed over his toned chest, his rock hard length glistened with your wetness. A warmth spread through your chest at the thought of him taking you like this. The level of trust and intimacy, the submission of letting him claim you. Your heart raced with anticipation.
His forearms braced each side of your head as he held himself above you. You reached between your bodies and gripped his cock, teasing your entrance as you rubbed the tip up and down your folds. He pushed into you suddenly and stilled deep inside you. Your hands tangled in his hair.
“I said beg.” He growled through gritted teeth.
“Noah, fuck-” you sighed “Please I want it so bad”
“I’m not moving until you ask for it properly.”
“Noah, I want you to fill me with your cum.” You whined, sudden shyness overtaking you at the pure filth leaving your lips.
“Good girl, now ask me again.” He said with a conceited grin.
“Noah, please breed my pussy” you said coyly.
He captured your lips in an open mouth kiss as he finally fucked into you. Your body nearly shook with pleasure. Countless times with Noah and somehow this felt like the first, learning the feel of him inside you with no barrier and having him take you, desperately and passionately. He thrusted into you deep, knocking the breath from your lungs as you clung to him, thighs wrapped tightly around his waist.
“You take me so well baby. I’m gonna breed this pussy and you’ll take every last fuckin drop like a good girl, yeah?” He whispered against your lips. You moaned in response, grinding your hips for more friction. He bent one knee beside you to take you deeper and the feeling had you seeing stars. The pleasure was building rapidly in your core and you knew your release was close.
“You want me to put a fuckin baby in you?” he teased.
“Oh God, please” you mewled.
“God isn’t the one about to make you cum.” Noah spat as his pace quickened.
“Noah” you cried as you fell apart around him. Your walls tightened over and over and his thrusts became messier as he chased his release. He watched your face as you moaned and begged for him to fill you, the pleasure still wracking through your body. He stilled and began to spill inside you. Your breath was stolen by the new sensation. A warmth spread within you and made you feel impossibly full. You could feel him pulsing inside you as he groaned deeply and buried his head in your neck. His hips jerked sporadically as he dragged out his orgasm, the most fucked out you’d ever seen him. He panted and a thin layer of sweat made his inked skin shine. He pushed himself up and knelt before you, slowly pulling out. His lips parted and you studied his face, pupils blown and eyes dazed. He watched as his tip slipped out of you with a subtle pop from the wetness, and his release seeped out of you slowly. You let out a playful giggle and began to close your thighs, his hands reached out to spread them again and his gaze never left your leaking, spent pussy.
After a moment you carefully slid off the bed and stood up, his cum beginning to drip down your thighs. He watched you, enamored, as you grabbed your panties from the floor and slipped your shirt on, then walked towards the door to clean up. You looked over your shoulder to see him still gawking.
“You okay?” you asked
“I uh- um, yeah” he stammered, meeting your eyes, “That was just... really fucking hot.”
You walked back over to him and stood between his thighs where he sat on the edge of the bed.
“First of many” you quipped, pecking him quickly on the lips before walking to the bathroom to clean up.
Noah fell back on the bed and ran his hands through his sweat-dampened hair, exhaling sharply. Without a doubt his mind was consumed with thoughts of the next time he could take you like that.
A/N: I think this is the filthiest thing I’ve written and I await my punishment from the heavens, but I hope you guys eat it up HAHA I had to get these thoughts out of my head. I have so much shit to do the next couple days so I wanted to post something before I have no time to write. I am so grateful for the love you guys have shown for my writing. It literally has me giggling and kicking my feet. As always feel free to chat with me or send me requests/questions/whatever!
