Summary: The Appalachian Mountains hide numerous monsters, and it's up to Taylor and the Bad Omens to prevent them from causing any harm.
Word Count: 2.1k+
CW: supernatural themes, witchcraft
This is RPF, and thus will contain real people, but names and events will be changed. If this bothers you too much, then please leave this temple without causing harm.
Divider by @saradika-graphics
An hour later, Nick stood in our bedroom, peering at something on the ceiling I couldn't see. “It makes no sense,” he muttered, barely audible except to me. “This house is warded against evil spirits. I made sure of it.”
He was referring to just after we met, when he secretly under the cover of night spelled my house to keep me safe from anything in the woods. When I became aware of his paranormal world, he put more in place. I hadn't known that it included anti-spirit protection, like it was some kind of home insurance.
I had finally divulged seeing the shadow in the library parking lot, somehow equating it to today's appearance. We had even lumped in the shadow that had been at the edge of the property a few weeks ago, though something nagging in me said that it felt different. I just chalked it up to fear clouding my judgement.
Even more frustrating to Nick was the silence coming from the forest. He had tried to call for Noah multiple times, but his attempts were as fruitful as mine. He even tried casting his senses out, but he found nothing. Like Noah wasn't even out in the forest.
“That's not like him,” Nick had mumbled, casting his eyes towards me as if he expected me to not be looking at him. He quickly averted his eyes when he saw that I was indeed looking, but not fast enough for me to be unable to see the darkness in them.
I should've known that the plan would fail.
Nick had also told me that the ritual worked. He couldn't feel any rot or decay, and that the woods felt… healthy. I wanted to crack a joke about how forest conservation had been solved with three orgasms, but I could tell Nick was still sore about the subject.
In the present, I watched Nick place new protection spells and banishment wards. Jerry, now pleased as punch that he had essentially saved his parent from a ghost-lady, purred loudly on my lap. Though he had only just rammed his head into a wall, I still gave him pets and treats.
“Could it be something else?” I asked.
“Maybe. Some things just don't add up,” he said. He closed his eyes and sighed out loud. “There. All done.” He pretended to dust his hands off.
“I feel safer already,” I said, even though I couldn't feel anything different.
“Oh, hush, you,” he said, waving his hand at me.
“Do you need to suck down on something green?” I asked teasingly. I neatly dodged the sock he threw at me.
“No, I'm fine,” Nick said as he reached back and pulled his shirt off. He pulled back the covers on the bed and neatly slid in.
“What were you doing earlier, before everything happened?” I asked, finally getting the chance.
“Well, firstly, I was dividing which pots were gonna be used for my Practice and which ones were gonna be for other stuff. Then I was getting the shed ready to be my workspace.”
Late last fall, I had stated that a project I had wanted to do for this year was to tear down the old shed on the edge of our backyard. Nick intervened by mentioning that he could turn it into a place where he could make his poultices and oils and other stuff instead. I had agreed with him because all the plants he had brought with him when he moved in nearly gave me a panic attack. They had taken up so much space, and the cats kept kicking the soil out of the pots. After our first fight as a couple, and my subsequent meltdown, Nick had to help me unlearn some of the things my parents had instilled into me.
“You remember what we promised?” I asked, slipping under the covers.
“That I'm supposed to teach you how to practice?” He said. “Of course I haven't.”
I let out a tiny sigh of relief. “Okay.”
“I’m not going back on that promise,” he reassured me as I slipped in next to him. I felt overdressed with my shorts and threadbare shirt.
As I snuggled next to him, I said “Thank you” into a clear patch of olive skin.
Between his even breathing and the two cats purring on either side of us, it didn't take long for me to be lulled to sleep. But one thing still bothered me until I slipped into oblivion:
Where was Noah?
NICHOLAS
It had taken a little bit for Taylor to go to sleep, as if they were restless. Nicholas couldn't blame them, seeming as they were confronted by some sort of spectre.
He had gone over the house three times, poking and prodding at the protection spells he had placed and renewed constantly. And the house wasn't haunted before they moved in; it wasn't haunted when Noah and his mom lived there. He had only just spread the rumor that it was haunted, and what good did that do?
Well, besides bringing Taylor to him.
When Nicholas was absolutely sure that Taylor was in deep sleep and wouldn't be waking up for anything, he slowly got out of the bed. He got redressed and quietly walked out to the front porch, stealing one of his Granny's crochet blankets to take with him.
It was nearly three in the morning, much to Nicholas’ surprise, but that worked for him. It was almost Offering Time. It was almost like clockwork, where Noah would pick up whatever offering Taylor had placed on the silver plate. Except unsurprisingly, it wasn’t Noah who loped out of the woods.
Nick shifted from the white Grim to his human body. “You’re up late again,” Nick said from the steps.
For some reason, his words aggravated Nicholas. “He couldn't come here himself?” He asked. “He had to send you down here instead?”
Nick held his hands up in defense. “Hey, don't shoot me. I haven’t even seen him in a few days,” he said.
The fact that Nick was here instead of Noah felt like another piece of the puzzle sliding home to Nicholas. “So where is he, then?” he asked.
Nick seemed to ignore Nicholas as he stepped onto the porch, his nose lifting at whatever Taylor had left as an offering. “Are those their taco wontons? Oh, fuck me–”
Nicholas stepped into Nick's path. “What's his deal?” He pressed.
He caught the briefest of flashes of anger in Nick's eyes as well as a low warning growl, but it was gone as Nick shrugged. “He went up to Stony Man, dude. I didn't ask why.”
Stony Man. The place was a private, almost sanctuary-like place for Noah. Nicholas had tried to go up there once, but the journey up the mountain almost did him in. He had stayed long enough to get his True Name and was quick to journey back down.
If Noah had retreated up to there, then that meant he really was troubled. And he now had a good feeling he knew why.
He stepped aside to let Nick pass, who was quick to wolf down half of the offering. A cruel part of him wanted to take away the rest, to starve Noah of the offering. The power of the thought took him by surprise and horrified him. No pettiness was worth the danger that would put Taylor in.
“You alright?” Nick asked, his mouth full.
Nicholas let out his anger in a single huff. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. He then stuck a cigarette in his mouth.
The two Nicks sat in silence on the front porch for a bit as they listened to life happening in the woods. It was only broken up when Nick wrapped the remaining wontons in foil. “Are you taking those to Jolly or Noah first?” Nicholas asked.
"Well, Jolly, cuz Noah hasn't said anything about them.”
"He hasn't talked to you? At all?"
“Jolly and I haven't seen him since the ritual happened. I only know he went up to Stony Man because that's where his trait went.” Nick shrugged.
The anger was bubbling in Nicholas' stomach again. “He needs to get over himself," he muttered to himself.
“Hey man, maybe he needs time to recover from–”
"From what?" Nicholas snapped. "From getting my partner for a night? When there's shit happening down here?"
He immediately regretted the outburst, as Nicki's hazel eyes widened. He was pretty sure he had also been a little too loud, as he heard a sound from inside the house that was undoubtedly one of the cats being startled. But he didn't apologize.
“What's happened here?” Nick asked.
Nicholas sighed, and told Nick about Taylor's shadow. When he got to the part where the shadow had been inside their house, Nick's face paled until it was almost the color of his fur. "You know what I'm talking about?
“Well... I don't know if it's the same Thing, but there was something my mom told me when I had kissed a girl who wasn't my first girlfriend. About a woman in black who scared men who were cheating on their wives.”
When Nicholas only squinted in response, Nick blundered on. “If the Woman in Black saw you outside, she'd scare you into going back to your girl, or kill you if she caught you cheating again.”
“Besides the similarity in clothing, what does she have to do with this?” Nicholas asked.
“Because I found two dead guys in the woods, and I know one of them liked to cheat on his wife. They'd go camping every time he did it, and would brag about it. Loudly.”
“But Taylor didn't cheat. I agreed to it. I was a cuck without actually getting to be a cuck.”
"I don't know man! Maybe she doesn't see the... technicality of it. But I didn't even know she was a Thing.”
But none of us believed the Watcher of the Woods was a Thing, either, Nicholas finished Nick's sentence in his mind.
“Do you think those men were killed by a Thing?” he asked.
"I know they had to be. One guy's head was clean ripped off.”
This was bad. Had they done the ritual to banish one evil, only to raise another? And as Nicholas had held back the fact that the ritual wasn't a permanent solution - that it had to be performed once a year - he was certain now that it shouldn't be performed again if it might piss off some kind of vengeful ghost that-
“What're we gonna do?”
Nicki's voice cut through Nicholas' thoughts. Noah was MIA, which meant that their chain of command, as loose of a term as it was, fell to him. Despite him being the only human of the Circle, the others listened to him. “Keep an eye out for now. I'll feel out the forest for anything,” he said, pressing his cigarette butt into the ashtray. "And drag Noah down the mountain by his antlers if you have to. We have to have a talk."
He could see Nicki's apprehensiveness towards confronting the Watcher of the Woods. If the two came to blows, Noah would obviously win. Nicholas has watched them wrestle with each other before. But Nick silently began stuffing the leftovers into his mouth, walking out into the front yard before transforming into the Grim. With a look back towards Nicholas, he bounded into the woods.
Nicholas gave him a moment before standing up, stretching his tired limbs. He still felt wide awake, but he would go back to bed in only a moment. He closed his eyes and let out a breath, extending his mind through the roots in the ground.
He had done this twenty-four hours ago, when he had been woken up suddenly. He hadn't felt anything then, and he wasn't feeling anything now–
He stopped suddenly, and turned towards the door. He quickly opened it, and with a soft yelp, Taylor tumbled forward onto the porch.
"You should be sleeping,” Nicholas scolded softly. "You have work tomorrow."
“I know,” they said quietly. They pushed themself back onto their knees and looked up at him. If it was any other scenario, he might've thought it was hot. “But I heard you talking, and maybe Nick might've heard something about–”
“Come on, forget about him.” Nicholas held out his hands, and Taylor took them so he could pull them up onto their feet. “Let's go back to bed, yeah?”
Taylor puffed out their cheeks, which he knew was their way of showing frustration, so he kissed their forehead and each cheek until they sighed and turned around, leading them back to the bedroom.
As Taylor once again settled against Nicholas' chest, he made up his mind. Either Noah had to come down from his mountain, or he’d go up there himself. Either way, they were going to have to have a talk.
And either way, it was going to be about Taylor.
tysm for reading! If you enjoyed this, please reblog to share the word of the Revered Father. Next chapter coming soon.
I'm going to *remembers suicide is often not a desire for death itself but rather an attempt to radically change one's life because the current state of being has become unbearable but the person can't think of any way to change it other than death* kill myself
Noah x Female!Reader
word count : 940 words
prompt . i saw the size of his hand next to that controller and now i wake up in a cold sweat whispering "yes, sir."
warnings/ tags. soft dom!noah sebastian, lap straddling, hand kink, oral fixation, filthy finger sucking, spit play, casual dominance, clothed grinding, noah’s joggers are the real enemy here, praise kink, overstimulation, dom/sub tension, unspoken power exchange, emotional damage via his hands, minor brattiness, slightly feral reader behavior.
tag list . @lacy1986 , @fadingangelwisp , @bloody-spades , @flowery-mess , @chey-h , @w0manof-flesh44
a/n. this is not a fic. this is a spiritual crisis brought on by one (1) man stretching his tattooed hands like he wasn’t about to spiritually rearrange me. if you've ever watched him hold a controller or a mic and felt yourself ascend and shatter simultaneously—welcome. you are no longer alone.
It starts with the way he stretches his fingers out in front of you, casually flexing the tendons beneath inked skin, like he knows you’re watching. Like he’s purposely doing it to see how you react to such simple movements.
Those hands—tendons flexing under inked skin, accentuating—rest on his thighs like a threat or a promise. You aren’t sure which, but both seem to turn you on. He leans back in his gaming chair, legs spread in those black joggers he always lives in as he stretches his arms over his head, turning to look at where you sat on the edge of his bed.
You avert your gaze quickly, as if looking was a crime and he would punish you if caught. But the question is, why look away if that is exactly what you wanted? His lips pull into a smirk, devilish–tempting, moving his hand to his thigh, fingers tapping against the fabric—and murmurs: “C’mere.”
You don’t even hesitate, which you consider shameful seeing as he didn’t have to do much in order for you to bend to his words. He had that effect on you.
By the time you straddle his hips, knees digging into the material of the chair, his hands are already on your thighs—massive hands that wrap around them like it’s nothing, dragging you forward until your chest brushes his and your heart's in your throat. You could feel his breath on your lips and he hums, smirking as his hands move up over your ass and just under the hem of your shirt.
He is looking at you like he is contemplating what to do, maybe even like he is letting you think that you have some semblance of control before he rips it away from you.
"You're staring again," he mutters, low and amused, his thumb brushing over your skin casually, like it’s second nature and not like it is enough to have you on your knees begging. "You going to be a good girl, or am I going to have to make you beg?"
You don’t answer. Not with words. Instead, you lean in and take his fingers into your mouth—slow, controlled, desperate as you fuck them in like they’re his cock. Hollow cheeks, tongue moving along the digits, moaning around the stretch. Eyes flutter shut while your mouth works his hand, your hips shift, grinding down on his lap, unable to help yourself.
His breath catches in his throat, a low broken laugh tumbling out as his head presses back against the headrest of his chair. “Fucking hell, baby. That doing it for you?”
You moan in response, hips moving against him harder, moving yourself over the hard line of his cock straining against the fabric of his joggers. He’s not trying to hide it, he wants you to feel it, and when he looks at you again his pupils are blown. His smile is gone, lips parted as lust clouds his gaze, and he can’t decide if he’s impressed by the way your tongue is moving against his fingers, or if he is seconds from snapping. Bending you over his desk and taking what he wants.
“Unreal,” he breathes, voice low and rough, fingers twisting in the fabric of your shirt at your lower back, moving you over him, causing enough friction for you to gasp against his fingers. “Sittin’ in my lap, sucking my fingers like that... Fuck.”
“All it takes are my fingers and you fall apart, huh?” His voice drops lower, rougher. “Could’ve had my dick, and you still went for these first.”
You hum around his fingers, nodding, drooling messy over your lips as you open your eyes, and he can see how fucked out you were just by doing this. He watches it glisten, watches the way your mouth moves like it was made for this. For him. You’ve lost all semblance of control, letting more spit drip out, watching as his jaw clenches and his cock twitches under you as it trailed down his hand.
“Keep going like that and I’m not gonna make it—or maybe that’s what you want,” he growls, the smirk that played on his lips threatening to fall apart, unsure how much longer he could keep this up. He grips your hips, fingers digging in tight as he starts to move you for him—slow, deliberate, mean—guiding the rhythm with one hand alone.
“You wanna come just like this?” he murmurs, fingers pressing deeper into your mouth, feeling your throat tighten around them, tears starting to prickle at your eyes, whimpering as you continue to guide him down your throat. “Grinding on my cock while you choke on my fingers? Is that what you’re after?”
Your hips stutter as you nod, lips parting, desperate now, and his smile fades, something darker settling in his eyes. It was like the switch flipped, and you whined louder, head nodding as you practically begged him to keep going. That was the look you were desperate for. The one that promised trouble. The one you knew you’d beg for anyway.
He pulls his fingers from your mouth, your lips swollen from working him, and you can’t help but pout, looking absolutely ruined just by sucking on his fingers.
“Then open your mouth,” he demands, voice rough and low, slipping his fingers into his own mouth for a moment. He moved to drag his thumb over your lower lip, watching as your tongue practically chased the digit, and gave in by pressing his fingers hard against your tongue and pressing his fingers of his other hand to your throat. “And don’t you fuckin’ stop moving.”
Summary: Reader is a detective and is assigned to a murder case which she soon connects with previous killings and figures out the religious affiliation, proving there is a new serial killer within the city. Reader soon becomes obsessed with the killers mind and methods and won’t rest until she figures out who the killer is. All while she gets used to working with her new partner on the case, detective Noah
Warnings: graphic writings of murder/killings, blood, gore, violence, serial killer, swearing, god complex, use of religion, obsession, dark romance, use of a knife in this chapter, wire restraints, I think that’s it for this but please let me know if I’ve missed anything!
Happy 1 year anniversary to this story!!
I honestly can’t thank all of you enough for making this so much bigger than I ever thought it would be! I really didn’t think many people would interested in this, what started off as a small little thought has now become what it is today!
This chapter is a flashback, set during chapter 5, this is once again completely from Noah’s POV and we get a better look at a past event.
Thank you to everyone who’s made this such an incredible journey, I can’t wait to finish this story and see what you all think, but I’ll definitely be sad to say goodbye to detective Noah, he’s got a special place in my heart haha 🖤
Noah dragged the body of his fellow colleague into the dimly lit room of the warehouse, not caring to be gentle with his movements.
He hauled officer Blake up into the chair and proceeded to tie his hands behind his back with wire, making certain there was no chance of escape when he came round.
After Eddie’s little outburst earlier that day, Noah knew that he was the only victim he wanted to fulfil ‘Thou Shalt Not Covet’.
He didn’t flinch when the wire cut into Blake’s skin causing blood to rush to the surface. Noah stepped back, eyes narrowing as he studied the unconscious man slumped in the chair. A flash of his partner’s face crossed his mind, how she’d looked when Blake had been running his mouth with the barely concealed jealousy in his tone.
“All I’m saying is that clearly detective Y/L/N isn’t up for the job, have you seen her recently? She looks like she’s not slept in weeks and isn’t making the right decisions. If I had her position, I’d be doing things so differently, maybe then we’d actually be getting somewhere in this case”
Noah felt his anger building as he remembered, if there was one thing he couldn’t tolerate, it was someone bad mouthing her.
Noah rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck to the side and then reached for the knife, the blade gleaming faintly beneath the flickering overhead bulb. He could already picture the scene he’d leave behind.
And maybe, just maybe, she’d understand eventually. That this wasn’t about vengeance.
It was devotion.
Noah was pulled from his thoughts when officer Blake started to groan, his head lolling forward as he came to. The sharp bite of wire around his wrists made him jolt, he opened his eyes and let them adjust to the light and that’s when he saw him.
A figure in black stood silently across the room. Face masked, hands gloved, posture calm but menacing.
“What the fuck…” Blake muttered, trying to shift in the chair, panic creeping in as he realised that he was trapped. “What is this?”
Noah tilted his head.
“What’s the matter officer Blake? Scared? I thought you could handle a case like this? Isn’t that what you brag about to anyone who will listen to that pitiful, drivelling, little voice of yours”
Eddie’s brows frowned as he listened to the voice, not disgusted in any way.
“Wait…I know that voi…you’re….”
Noah smiled as he reached up and pulled the ski mask from his head and knelt down in front of him so they were eye level.
“Surprise”
Eddie’s eyes went wide as he stared at Noah like a ghost, not believing what he was seeing.
“Davis?! What the fuck is this? This isn’t funny, now let me go!”
Noah smiled and shook his head in a condescending manner.
“Sorry, can’t do that I’m afraid, you’re now a part of something much, much bigger than you”
He brought the knife up to let it catch the light, taking great pleasure in watching the fear pass over the officers face.
“All you ever do is whine and say that you should have a higher position. Well now, I’m giving you that, you’re becoming a part of something much greater, it’s an honour for someone of your pathetic existence”
“I…I don’t understand? What the hell is going on here?!”
Noah sighed as he stood tall.
“I know you’re not the most intelligent man Ed, so I’ll make this easy for you….I’m the ‘10 Commandments Killer’ and…”
“YOU’RE FUCKING CRAZY DAVIS! NOW LET ME G…”
Eddie’s shouts were cut short when Noah used the back of his hand and smacked him so hard around the face that it flew to the side, blood trickling out of his mouth as he tried to catch his breath from the blow.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Eddie, I don’t like being interrupted. I find it extremely…rude”
Eddie groaned in pain but stayed silent as he looked back around at his colleague.
“You truly believed that you would catch me? That you were more deserving of the role of being a detective? Over her?”
Eddie narrowed his eyes as he realised who you were talking about.
“Does..does she know? That it’s you?”
Noah chuckled and shook his head, knife still in hand.
“Not yet. But she will, she’s the most intelligent person I think I’ve ever met…after myself that is. She’ll figure it out soon enough, I know she won’t disappoint me”
Eddie tried to struggle against his restraints and hissed as the wires cut deeper into his flesh.
“You don’t have to do this Davis, you can let me go, I won’t say anything, I swear!”
Noah laughed even harder at his words.
“Do you really think I was born yesterday?” Noah brought his gloved hands up to cradle his face. “You’d love nothing more than to ‘crack’ this case. You’d arrest me in a second just to get that little promotion that you dream of”
Noah sighed again and used the blade of the knife to run it along his cheek, causing Eddie’s breathing to quicken as he tried to pull away.
“But you’ll never be deserving of that, not like she was, and you hated it didn’t you? Couldn’t stand the thought of her being your superior”
Noah grabbed his chin harshly in his grip, taking note of the bruises already forming on his face.
“You’d stab her in the back for that job wouldn’t you?”
Eddie tried to shake his head, his eyes glassing over with unshed tears.
“No? No, you’re absolutely right….you’d stab her in the front, just to watch her fall….So now? It’s only fair that I show you the same courtesy”
Officer Blake looked confused for a moment but before he could even start to comprehend the words, Noah pulled back and plunged the knife deep within his chest.
Eddie started to choke up blood as Noah then twisted the knife a couple times as he gasped for air.
“Thou Shalt Not Covet”
Eddie’s gasps gargled around his own blood as his body started to go limp and his eyes started to close slightly as he tried to cling to life.
Noah stood back and admired his work for a moment, before he stuck his gloved finger into the wound, causing Eddie to jump slightly as he drifted in and out, and gathered the fresh blood.
Noah walked around him and started to write on the wall behind him.
Eddie tried one last feeble attempt at saying something, calling for help but all that was heard was more gargling and wheezing.
“Shhhh, I’m busy”
Noah never paid any more attention to the dying man, unless it was to get more blood on his glove.
‘envy stabs at others and wounds itself’
Just as he was finishing the word ‘itself’ he heard his phone ringing in his pocket.
Noah raised his other hand up to his mouth and pulled the glove off with his teeth so he could reach into his coat and see who was calling.
Bringing the phone up, he smiled as he saw her name flashing across his screen. He carried on ‘painting’ the wall with the other gloved hand as he clicked the answer button on his phone.
“Hello detective”
“Noah, how long until you get here? I’m wasting away from starvation”
Noah chuckled as he finished off his writing and stood back to admire it.
“Not long, just had a couple things to sort out but…”
He turned and glanced at the now dead body slumped in the chair, blood dripping down onto the concrete floor.
“I’m all finished here”
“Good, I’m craving that pizza you promised earlier”
He smiled as he picked up his other glove and mask, he stood in front of his latest message with pride as he took it in.
“I’ll make sure to get extra pepperoni to make up for it”
“You better! I’ll get a couple glasses of wine poured and ready”
“Sounds good to me, I’ll be at yours within the hour”
There was a pause before he heard her speak again.
“Good…if I was being honest…I feel safer when you’re around Noah. Lately I just feel like…like I’m being watched all the time, like he’s here already or something”
Noah couldn’t stop the smirk that formed on his lips.
“I’m glad that you feel safe with me, you know I’ll never let anything happen to you. I promise I’m on my way now”
“Do you….do you think we’ll ever catch this guy Noah?”
Noah took one last look around, making sure he hadn’t left anything and everything was in place before he started to walk out of the warehouse.
“I know we will, you’ll figure this out, I have no doubt about that. Just remember detective, trust no one”
Pairing: Noah sebastian (bad omens) × Reader (female reader)
Summary:
Noah’s back in town, and all that distance you tried to put between you? Gone. All the silly games and one nights have amounted to nothing, but nights left thinking that there could be more here; and now you need more. Now you’re both tangled in feelings neither of you want to name… but can’t stop chasing.
Warnings:
smut (18+), oral (f receiving), dom-ish Noah, soft but filthy, messy emotions, jealousy kinda??? creampie, tensionnnn, a little bit of angst, reader with feelings she’s tryna suppress and failing, not exactly friends with benefits but not dating either, vibes are complicated™
Words: 2793k
Authors note : lol so this is my trying to practise writing and english again. i haven't done this in years and really losing my skill.
Nights like this were when it was hardest to stay away.
When an ocean no longer separated you, when flights and time zones no longer stood in the way, nothing was easier. Nothing was easier to pretend, easier to ignore the pull. But now, with him back in town, everything felt messy again. The fragile distance you’d clung to was gone, leaving only the aching want you’d tried so hard to silence.
All the pieces that had finally fallen into place were now a scattered mess, with so many of those parts missing.
It had always been like this when it came to Noah. Whenever he came back, he brought chaos with him—a storm in his wake, unraveling the careful balance you had built in his absence. Nothing made sense anymore.
Except for the moments in his arms.
The nights spent tangled beside him. The stolen kisses. The glances across crowded rooms. And the confusion that followed every single time.
Did he want this the way you did?
Your eyes drifted to your phone, thumb hovering over his contact. The call button stared back at you, daring you to press it.
It’s 1 a.m. He hasn’t texted me since the tour started. He’s probably busy.
So many reasons to call him. None to stop you.
Your fingers twitched. Your thumb hovered. Then—finally—you gave in.
The line barely rang before he answered, his voice rough, low, like he’d just woken up.
"Hey."
"Hey."
A stretch of silence.
"You wanna come over?" The words slipped out before you could take them back, quiet but weighted, like a fuse waiting to be lit.
Another pause. A beat too long. Then, his answer was just as quiet.
"Yeah."
The call ended as quickly as it started, but the air in your room suddenly felt heavier. Your phone sat in your lap, screen black, but you still stared at it. Your heart pounded harder than it should. Did he even hesitate? Even for a second?
It didn’t matter now because he was coming. After what felt like forever, a knock echoed from downstairs.You hesitated before opening the door, but when you did, there he was.
Noah.
Disheveled. Exhausted. His dark hoodie hung loose off his frame, and his hair was a mess, like he’d run his fingers through it a dozen times. But it was his eyes that stopped you—clouded, unreadable, searching for something in you that you weren’t sure you could give.
"Noah." His name slipped from your lips, barely a whisper.
He didn’t say anything. Not at first. His gaze dragged over your face, slow, measured—like he was memorizing you, like he wasn’t sure if he should be here.
"How was the tour?" you asked, grasping at something—anything—to make this more than what you both knew it was.
"It was okay." His voice was flat, almost empty, and it took you aback.
"Everything okay?"
His jaw flexed.
"Yeah. It is."
Lie.
But you didn’t press him. You never did.
Instead, his fingers brushed against yours—silent, familiar. A test. A question.
You swallowed hard and took his hand.
"Come."
You led him to your bedroom, shutting out the world. Pretending, just for a little while, that it didn’t exist.
Noah lay flat on your bed, eyes on the ceiling, shoulders tense. You settled beside him without a word, waiting.
Something was different tonight.
This wasn’t like the other nights, where clothes were scattered across the floor within minutes, where hands grasped at skin, where the lingering scent of regret seeped into the air before the night was even over.
Slowly, you placed your hand on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall beneath your palm. Then, carefully, you nestled your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the soft scent of his body wash.
Noah let out a quiet hum, his body easing beneath your touch, muscles slowly untensing.
And then, softer than a breath—
"I missed you."
Your fingers tangled into his messy hair. A silent confession. A quiet plea.
"You never called," he murmured, turning to face you now.
The tip of his nose barely grazed yours, and all you could do was hold your breath, waiting for him to break the tension, to do anything.
"Every night I thought you would call, and you never did." His voice was quiet, but something about the way he said it made your chest ache.
The air between you was thick, charged. Your silence wasn’t helping.
"I didn’t think you wanted me to."
Noah exhaled, bringing his hand to your cheek, his touch unbearably soft, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin.
Fuck.
He was making it harder. Making you want to believe in things you knew better than to hope for.
You knew you couldn’t have him forever. The only times you were his—the only times you could call him yours—were this. Moments hidden away under linen sheets. Soft hands caressing places unknown. Heated breaths shared with every inch. Every single inch.
"I wish you had," he whispered, voice strained. "Just needed—" He cut himself off, eyes locked on yours, hesitation flickering in his gaze.
"What?" You inched closer, lips a breath away.
"It’s stupid." He sighed, pulling back, breaking the moment before it could swallow you whole.
Before he could escape, you caught his face in your hands, your thumbs pressing gently against the sharp edges of his jaw, grounding him, keeping him here.
You searched his eyes, looking for answers he wouldn’t say out loud. Weeks of radio silence, months of not knowing.
"Please," you whispered, lips so close your breath was his breath.
His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer, like he needed to feel you were real.
"I needed to hear you," he admitted, voice rougher now, like the words had been trapped inside him for too long.
"I needed so much those last few months."
He paused, searching your face.
You swallowed, your pulse quickening under his touch.You tried to ease the tension, pulling your leg over his thigh. "What? Needed more of this?" You teased, trying to laugh.
But the way his body tensed told you that wasn’t it.Noah shifted, tilting your chin up, holding you still.
"No," he murmured. "I needed more of you."
Your heart stammered, the words settling deep.
"I needed more of us."
The weight of them hung between you, heavy, fragile—like something you weren’t sure either of you could hold without breaking.
For a moment, the room felt smaller. The air, thicker. Every shadow of doubt fled, leaving only the truth neither of you had ever dared to speak.
"I miss this. I miss you." You held his face but didn’t dare kiss him. Not yet. Not with everything hanging between you, waiting to shatter.
But Noah had never been one for hesitation.
Slowly, he closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours, hesitant at first—like he was afraid of what this meant.
"Why are you so nervous?" you murmured against his lips, pulling back just slightly.
Noah exhaled, his fingers tightening against your skin like he was trying to memorize the shape of you.
"I don’t want to keep doing this in secret," he said, voice rough with something unspoken.
"If we cross this line again, I don’t want to let you go."
His words pierced the seal of all the feelings you had tucked away so deeply. Things you had wanted for so long but had been too scared to admit—even to yourself.
But now, you dared to.
Slowly, you raised yourself from the bed, straddling him. His hands found your hips, fingers pressing into your skin, as if grounding himself—keeping you close but not pulling you in. His eyes never left your face, dark and searching, waiting.
Leaning down, your breath mingled with his, lips barely grazing as you traced a gentle hand along his jaw. His breath hitched. And then, finally, you touched him.
Your lips met his in a slow, testing kiss, gentle at first — like your body was asking the question your mouth still couldn’t. His hair was soft between your fingers, and when you tugged lightly, a strained little sound caught in his throat. You felt it — the way his heart pounded under you, fast and hot and unsteady. His hands moved slowly along your back and thighs, pulling you flush against him, and you arched into his touch when a single fingertip traced down your spine, begging for more.
A quiet moan escaped you as Noah's hips lifted beneath you, seeking more of your weight, your warmth. His palms found your skin, rising under your shirt, fingers drifting higher until they reached your chest. His touch was reverent, careful — brushing against the swell of your breast before he thumbed over your nipple through the fabric. The sensation sent a tremble through you, straight to your core.
Your breath caught as you pinched your other nipple between your own fingers, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. He groaned softly into your mouth, hips rising again as your hand fisted in his hair, grinding yourself down against him. There was so much heat between you now — too much fabric, too much hesitation, not enough of him.
“Can I?” Noah murmured, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt.
You nodded, raising your arms, and he peeled the shirt off you in one slow motion. His hands moved over your now-exposed skin, warm and firm, pulling you down so he could mouth at your breast, tongue circling your nipple in slow, wet patterns. You let your head fall back, your hips rolling against his again, chasing friction.
He hummed, pushing up to meet your motion with his own. You could feel him — hard and hot through his jeans — as you fumbled with the button, desperate to get them off. When they finally slid down, you traced a line down the center of his stomach, stopping just before you reached where he ached for you.
“No teasing,” he said, breathless. “Not tonight.”
You laughed against his mouth, but he pulled you back up, kissing you deeper now — with tongue and teeth and all the desperation you both had been holding in.
By the time Noah had managed to tug your skirt off, your skin was buzzing, every inch of you tingling with need. He rolled you onto your back gently, then hovered over you, pressing soft kisses to your neck.
“I need you to tell me you want me,” he whispered, lips brushing against your skin, fingers just skimming the edge of your panties.
You wrapped your leg around his waist, silently begging him to move closer. His finger dragged down over the fabric, already damp between your thighs, and you whimpered.
“Say it,” he murmured again, now tugging the lace gently to the side.
“Please,” you breathed — because that’s all you could manage.
He grazed your entrance, barely touching, and your body jolted at the contact. His fingers teased you in slow, deliberate strokes, pressing just enough to make you squirm. You moaned into his mouth as your hips bucked up, needing more.
Growing impatient, you slipped your hand between you, cupping him through his boxers, squeezing gently. He hissed into your mouth, the sound rough and broken. Then his fingers — slick from you — came to your lips. You licked them, slowly, tasting yourself as his eyes darkened.
“Good girl,” he said, voice wrecked.
He licked his own fingers next, and something about the sight made you shiver. Your hand found the edge of his boxers, sliding just inside, your fingers barely brushing his length. He shuddered, hips grinding into your palm.
“You want more?” you asked, rubbing your thumb over the head of his cock. Pre-cum slicked your skin, and you brought your finger to your mouth, tasting him.
“Fuck,” he groaned, pressing into your hand again, panting now.
You started to stroke him, slow and steady, building the rhythm. He leaned down, mouthing at your ear, his breath hot against your skin. You curled your toes, biting your lip at the weight of him in your hand, how right this felt.
But then he pulled back, breath ragged.
“Stop—shit, I’m gonna finish in my pants.”
You let go with a smile, and he moved down your body, trailing kisses from your breasts to your navel. His pace was agonizing — like he wanted to memorize every inch of you. You spread your legs wider, silently pleading. He didn’t pull off your panties. Not yet. He just mouthed over them, the wet heat of his tongue pressing against your clit.
You gasped.
Then he pulled away, just enough to use his fingers. He traced slow, lazy circles, teasing you through the fabric.
“You want more?” he asked, voice thick with mischief, before biting softly at your inner thigh.
“Yes,” you said, breathless, too far gone to be embarrassed.
Your panties were finally peeled away, tossed somewhere on the floor, and Noah’s mouth was on you again — this time with nothing in the way. His tongue moved in long, firm strokes, finding exactly what you needed. One finger slipped inside you, then two, and you cried out, overwhelmed.
It was building fast now — the pressure curling in your stomach, the moans falling from your lips uncontrollably.
“I want you,” you choked out, tugging at his shirt, needing him.
But he didn’t move. He laced his fingers with yours, keeping you grounded, his mouth working you through the edge until you tipped over, gasping and shaking, body clenching around nothing.
He kissed his way back up your body, hovering just above your lips.
“Taste yourself,” he whispered, slipping his tongue into your mouth.
You moaned, sucking on it, teasing him. His cock was pressing against your thigh, desperate, twitching with need.
Your hand slipped into his boxers, finally wrapping around him, stroking slowly. He groaned into your mouth, his whole body jerking at the touch. You could feel how close he already was.
Pulling back, you ran your thumb over his tip, collecting more precum. Then, eyes locked, you brought it to your lips.
His mouth fell open.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
You gave him a gentle tug and he bucked his hips. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you guided him to your entrance, gliding him through your slick.
“Noah,” you breathed.
He pressed in slowly, inch by inch, until he was fully seated inside you. He stayed there for a beat, breathing hard, forehead against yours.
Then he started to move — slow, deep, deliberate strokes. Every thrust pulled a sound from you, soft and needy.
“Harder,” you begged.
But he shook his head.
“No. No hard shit tonight,” he said, kissing you gently. “I want to feel you.”
And you understood. This wasn’t about fucking. This was something else — something more. His hands were everywhere, and his lips didn’t leave your skin. You clung to him, breath catching with each slow, deep stroke as he filled you again and again, never rushing, like he wanted to make it last.
Your fingers slid between your bodies, circling your clit in small, desperate motions, chasing that edge again. He groaned when he felt it — your walls fluttering around him, your body tensing beneath his.
And when your breath hitched, when your thighs trembled beneath his, he just held you tighter — like he knew.
It hit you hard — a wave crashing over every inch of you, pleasure blooming through your stomach, curling your toes and blurring your vision. You buried your face in his shoulder, moaning his name as your body shook beneath him, clenching around him so tight he nearly lost control right there.
Noah's breath caught, and with one final thrust, he came undone — a low, broken moan tearing from his chest as he spilled inside you, hips stuttering, body trembling.
You held his face as he came, forehead pressed to yours, neither of you daring to look away.
As you lay next to Noah in a hazy blur, his fingertips traced slow circles along your lower back. You hummed into his chest, sinking into the quiet, into the warmth of just being with him. Touching him. Feeling him.
“Hey,” he murmured, tucking a finger under your chin to tilt your face toward his.
“Hey, you,” you replied with a soft smile, leaning into the gentle touch that now traced the curve of your jaw.
His voice dropped, almost too quiet to hear. “Can I stay?”
There was a flicker of something in his eyes — like he was afraid you’d say no. Like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.
It’s okay to have fantasies that you would never want to do in reality. It’s okay to have fantasies that you don’t want to do with other people. It’s okay to try things in real life and decide you only like them in fantasy. It’s okay to only like certain things in certain contexts. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. You are not any less valid in your kinks if you enjoy the idea of them more than the reality.
can i please get "I’ve wanted this since the moment I met you." with Noah
CW: unprotected sex (p in v), fingering (f receiving)
🔞 nsfw, minors please dni.
The apartment is quiet when you come in, the kind of silence that usually means Noah is either holed up in his room with headphones on or passed out on the couch mid-mix.
You shut the door behind you with a soft sigh, kick your shoes off, and drop your bag by the wall with more force than necessary.
Everything hurts—your shoulders, your back, even your feet. Some dull, unrelenting ache that made your eyes sting when you finally let yourself stop moving.
As you stand there, eyes closed, cataloging every muscle that hurts inside your exhausted body, you realize the place wasn't all that quiet after all—from the kitchen came the low clink of metal against ceramic.
You blink your eyes open, and the smell hits you next: something buttery and warm, faint but unmistakable and—oh. Noah was cooking.
You pad toward the kitchen in silence, too drained to call out. He is standing at the stove, hoodie sleeves shoved up to his elbows, barefoot on the cold tile. His hair is messy, like he’d been running his fingers through it repeatedly, and the speaker on the counter is humming something soft and instrumental, so low you couldn’t hear it from the front door.
He glances up when he hears you, but doesn’t say anything right away. Just takes you in, eyes scanning quickly over your face, the slump of your shoulders, the way you lean on the wall like even standing upright took effort.
“Long day?” He asks finally, turning the burner down.
You let out a breath, laughing without humor as you rub your neck with a wince.
“Understatement of the century,” you mutter. “I swear it feels like the universe is trying to fold me in half like a lawn chair today.”
Noah snorts quietly.
“Do you want me to kill the universe for you?”
“If it’s not too much trouble.” You smile in spite of everything, rolling your shoulders just as he glances over again.
“I’ve got time.” He says as he moves to rinse the pan in the sink, and then— “Shoulder blades again?”
You pause for a second, then nod, too tired to deny the obvious. He leans a hip against the counter, drying his hands on a towel, watching you.
“I could help, you know?”
“How?” You raise an eyebrow, toes curling against the floor. “With your magical roommate chiropractor powers?”
“No. With my hands,” he says, forcefully deadpan. Then shrugs a little like it wasn’t a big deal. “I used to do it all the time on tour. Everyone always had knots from sleeping in the van or lugging gear. I know what I’m doing.”
You blink, shifting your weight.
“You don’t have to—”
“I know,” he says simply. “But I don’t mind. I want to.”
There was no teasing in his voice. No flirting. Just quiet sincerity, like he was offering you a glass of water, not his hands on your bare back.
The silence stretched for a few seconds.
“I should probably shower first,” you say eventually, fingers brushing a loose hair behind your ear.
“Yeah. Go ahead.” He nods, already turning back to wipe the counter. “I’ll be here.”
That was it—no smirk, not even a lingering look. Just Noah, steady and calm, offering to help. Still, you couldn’t ignore the way your pulse quickened as you stepped into the bathroom.
The water was hot—almost too hot—but you needed it that way. You stand still under the spray, forehead resting against the cool tile as the stream runs down your back, loosening the tightness just enough to breathe through it.
God, your muscles were wrecked.
You roll your shoulders slowly, wincing as something cracks. A long shift, too many hours on your feet, and now the aching had settled deep into your spine like it meant to stay.
And as you stand there under the hot, warm pressure of the shower, you try to convince yourself Noah’s offer wasn’t weird. Friends gave each other massages all the time, right? It’s normal. Not a big deal at all.
You were definitely over that crush, anyway. The one that bloomed when you first moved in, when he’d been all quiet glances and late night playlists and the kind of easy, safe warmth that made you lean in without realizing.
It had passed.
You’d pushed it down, and it had passed, because Noah didn’t do relationships—he had music and fame to chase, friends to occupy his time with, dreams with deadlines. You weren’t about to be the one who complicated that.
So no, it wasn’t weird. You’re tired, he’s offering. That’s all.
You turn off the water, heart beating stupidly loudly in your ears, and step out into the steam-heavy air. Toweling off slowly, you move on autopilot—reaching for the panties folded on the counter, slipping them on before wrapping the towel around yourself.
You pause at the door, hand on the knob.
It’s not a big deal, you repeat in your head again. Then again. And one more time, just to be sure. Then you open the door, turn off the bathroom lights, and step out.
Everything is quiet, save for the low, familiar creak of a drawer opening down the hall.
“Noah?” You call out softly.
No answer—just the soft thud of something being set down.
You pad into the hallway, bare feet silent against the cool floor, following the sound until it leads you to his room. The door is half-open, the warm glow of purple LEDs spilling out across the floor like an invitation.
Noah is crouched near the side of the bed, rifling through a low drawer. He’d gotten rid of his hoodie while you were in the shower, his tattooed arms now on full display.
He looks up when you appear in the doorway, eyes flicking up and down your figure, almost on instinct, before he quickly stands up with something in hand.
“Sorry,” he says, holding up a small bottle. You weren't sure why he was apologizing. “I was just looking for this. It’s a muscle relief thing—helps with tension.”
You nod, fingers tightening slightly on the edge of your towel.
“I figured we could just do this in here, if you don’t mind,” he adds, rubbing the back of his neck with the hand not holding the bottle. “Bed’s more comfortable than the couch. And, uh…” His eyes darts to the dim corners of the room. “Lighting’s kinda nice in here. Relaxing.”
“Yeah,” you say quietly, taking a deep breath as you step inside his room. “This is fine.”
The door stays cracked open behind you, but it still feels like the air in the room shifts. He moves to the far side of the bed, giving you space, and you climb up slowly, lying on your stomach with the towel still wrapped securely around your body, the fabric warm against your freshly showered skin.
The only thing covering your body underneath the towel was that underwear, and even though you’d made peace with that in the bathroom, lying here now—on his bed—it suddenly feels so much more real.
The air is cooler in his room than it was in the bathroom, and the damp towel chills fast against your back as your body adjusts. Noah sits beside you, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight.
For a second, there is only the faint click of the lotion cap and the quiet rustle of him moving behind you.
“Okay if I…” He hesitates, voice low. “I’m gonna put a towel right over here.”
You turn your head a little, just enough to catch the corner of your eye on him as he gently drapes a fresh towel across the curve of your ass, his movements careful.
His fingers ghost over your shoulder blade next, pausing.
“Now can you open the one you’re wearing? Just shift it under you so your back’s exposed?”
You swallow, throat terribly dry, but nod anyway.
You fingers find the fold of the towel at your side, loosening it with a quiet breath before adjusting it beneath you—baring the entirety of your back to him.
The new towel stays firmly in place at your hips, covering your ass and thighs, but the cool air kisses your now bare back, making goosebumps rise. And you hear it—the slight hitch in his breathing when you settle back into place, much more exposed now.
“You okay?” He asks, as if you were the one having trouble breathing.
“Yeah,” you murmur, folding your arms under your head and turning your face into the crook of it. “Good.”
Your heart won't stop pounding, heavy in your chest.
And then he touches you.
His hands are warm, steady, careful. The scent of eucalyptus drifts between you, curling around the space like steam had done back in the bathroom, and your muscles slowly begin to loosen beneath his touch—even as something else, deeper, tighter, began to coil low in your belly.
You hear the quiet shift of fabric behind you before you feel it: the weight of the mattress dipping again, and then Noah’s knees bracketing your thighs. Not heavy, not pressing—just there, holding him above you as his palms begin to move with more purpose.
He was straddling your legs now, his breath quiet behind you, and the realization made your heart stutter.
His hands slide up the length of your back again, broad and warm and surprisingly soft. You hadn’t expected that—he was always carrying amps or crates, playing chords or slinging guitar straps over his shoulder—his hands were supposed to be calloused, rough.
But they aren’t, and they move like he is memorizing something, thumbs pressing down along either side of your spine with just enough pressure to make your head dip into the pillow and your lips part around a soft, shaky breath.
The lotion makes the glide smooth, each stroke deliberate, each touch a slow draw over your skin.
He isn’t rushing it, and he isn’t talking, either. The silence grows thick around you, the only sounds being your breathing, the faint swish of fabric, the quiet rhythm of his fingers working lower—down the slope of your back, skimming just under the towel that covered your hips.
And that’s the moment you feel it—that first real ache.
Your thighs clench subtly beneath him, breath catching as his palms sweep along the sides of your waist, dipping lower, moving slower, almost brushing the edge of your underwear.
The motion lights a fuse beneath your skin—heat spreading between your legs, blooming quickly and urgently. You can feel yourself getting wet, can feel your panties start to cling, the cotton dampening as your core pulses—slow and steady at first, then harder with every new touch of his hands.
It isn’t just the touching, though—it’s everything. His scent, his warmth, the knowledge that you’re practically naked in his bed, your towel the only barrier between his bedsheets and your bare breasts.
The tension that had always simmered under the surface of your friendship is suddenly rising like smoke from a spark you could no longer ignore.
You don’t dare shift, don’t dare speak or make the faintest sound. But you know, with every slow brush of his hands, that he feels it too.
Noah’s hands pause for a moment at the small of your back, thumbs circling there like he is gathering courage. You hold your breath without meaning to, lips parted against the pillow, your body still beneath his ministrations—but inside, everything is buzzing.
Then he moves up again, slower now.
His palms skate over your waist, fingers spreading slightly as they glide upward—not quite the same path this time. This time, they curve inward just a little, tracing the dip where your waist flared into your ribs, brushing against the edges of your sides. Skin that had never felt his hands before now buzzes under them.
That’s when you feel it—fingertips grazing the soft sides of your breasts, where they press lightly against the mattress. Just a brush, like an accident, almost. But he doesn’t pull back—he lingers there a beat too long, hands easing over your ribs like they belong there, before retreating up your back again.
You blink slowly, breath shaky, heart slamming so loud in your ears you’re sure he can hear it. The touch wasn’t rough, or demanding. It was tentative—curious. Testing the boundary, maybe waiting for you to say something, to move, to push him away.
But you didn’t. You don't—you stay still, let him feel.
Your panties are soaked now, no use pretending otherwise.
The ache between your legs pulse with every heartbeat, and the way he is still straddling your thighs doesn’t help—the heat of him there, the occasional shift of his weight, the glide of lotion-slick hands over your back, your ribs, your sides.
His fingers find that curve again—the swell of your breasts just where they press against the mattress—and this time, the brush isn’t brief. He exhales through his nose, barely a sound, and you feel it ghost over your shoulder.
He is breathing heavier now, too. Something has shifted, and you both know it.
His hands still on your lower back, fingers flexing slightly against your skin. Noah leans forward slowly, his thighs tightening around yours, caging you in without weight. And then—his nose brushes your neck, soft and warm, dragging along the slope of it like he can’t help himself, like he’d been dying to know how your skin felt there.
Your breath catches when you feel it—the press of him, thick and hard, through the soft fabric of his sweats.
He’s pressing against the swell of your ass, unmistakable and slow as he exhales through his nose, lips hovering just behind your ear now. He doesn’t move away, too—just stays there, breathing you in like he needs the scent of your skin more than air.
You wait a few seconds, frozen. But when nothing comes, you turn your head, lips parting to say his name, and it leaves your throat in a whisper, breathless.
“Noah…”
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he dips his head and gives your shoulder the softest, slowest bite—teeth barely there, just enough pressure to make your spine arch.
Then, finally, his voice: low, rough, right against your skin.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, “and I will.”
But you don’t.
You can’t.
Your body is already answering for you—shifting against the mattress, your thighs tensing beneath him, your panties soaked with want.
You don’t say a word.
And when you don’t, you feel the sound he makes—a soft groan, like relief, like restraint slipping. Noah’s hands shift lower, and you feel the subtle drag of the towel across your skin as he starts to remove it—slow, deliberate.
“Okay?” He asks, his voice rough around the edges now, like it costs him something to hold back.
You nod, cheek still pressed to the sheets.
And then he peels the towel away.
It slides from your ass, baring more and more of you with every inch until it’s gone entirely, leaving only the thin towel beneath you and the heat of his eyes behind you.
The air is cool against your skin, but his gaze burns.
Noah exhales like he’s been punched in the gut.
You don’t have to look at him to know he’s staring—at your back, your waist, the curve of your ass barely covered by the thin stretch of your panties. You can feel the weight of his gaze.
And then his hands are back—no more lotion, no more fabric between you and his touch. Just skin to skin.
He starts at your shoulders again, slower this time—like he needs to relearn the landscape of you now that you are so bare beneath him. His thumbs drag long lines down your back, firm and sure, but gentler now, intimate in a way that makes your whole body tense with anticipation.
When his fingers trace the curve of your waist, dipping just enough to brush the top swell of your hips, you can’t help it—your hips shift against the bed, chasing more, your core aching with how badly you need his hands lower.
You hear his breath catching, the softest curse under it. And when he leans forward again, you feel him even more clearly this time—the full press of his cock through his sweats, thick and hard, grinding slowly against your ass as he bends over you.
“You’re killing me,” he whispers, mouth against your shoulder. “You have no idea.”
But you do, because you’re feeling the same.
So you shift again, just enough to press your ass deliberately into the heat of him, and whisper his name.
“Noah.”
He lets out a strangled sound, low in his throat. You turn your head slightly, enough to catch the edge of his face and the way his jaw is clenched when you look at him.
His eyes meet yours—dark, pupils blown wide. Desperate.
“Tell me stop and I will,” he says again, voice wrecked, lips barely brushing your skin. “I swear I will.”
But again, you don’t. You just hold his gaze as best as you can, and you wait.
That’s all he needs.
The last thread of hesitation breaks, and his mouth is on you in the next breath—hot, open, biting at your shoulder again, then trailing down your spine as his hand slides beneath you, cupping your breast where it is pressed to the mattress.
A moan escapes you, helpless and broken, as his thumb circles your nipple, and his teeth graze the curve of your back. The towel beneath you shifts with the movement of your body, his hips grinding into you, no longer pretending this was anything but what it is: need.
Months of it, maybe. Weeks of holding back. Days of sleeping just a room apart, both of you pretending not to think about this.
Now, none of it mattered.
Noah sits back on his knees, hands spanning your waist, and with careful fingers, he hooks them into the waistband of your panties, pausing one last time.
“Still okay?” He asks, voice trembling despite how deep it has gotten.
You nod—voice gone—and lift your hips in silent answer. He peels them down, slow and reverent, baring all of you to him at last.
When his hands settle on your thighs, spreading you open, you hear his breath hitch yet again, like this is already too much to handle.
Noah’s fingers trace along the inside of your thighs, feather-light, and the anticipation makes you tremble. Then finally, finally, he slides them up between your folds—barely there at first, just a ghost of a touch, but even that has your breath catching, your hips twitching.
He hums behind you, low and rough, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your back where he leans close again.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, dragging the pad of his middle finger through your slick heat. “You’re already soaked.”
You whimper into the pillow, face flushed, heart hammering. You can’t even pretend to be embarrassed—not when your body lifts instinctively, presenting for him, grinding your ass back against his hand, aching for more.
Noah sucks in a breath, and his hand stills for just a beat, like he’s trying to hold on to what little control he has left. But soon he goes back to moving—slow, lazy strokes between your folds, gathering everything you’re giving him, spreading it all over your sensitive skin.
“You’ve been like this,” he whispers, voice hot in your ear now, “since I first touched you, haven’t you?”
You moan, biting your lip hard as he circles your clit—barely any pressure, just enough to tease, to drive you mad. Your hips roll, chasing it, trying to force his hand to give more.
Noah grins against your shoulder, then lets one thick finger slip inside, slow and deep.
“Shit,” he breathes. “How can you feel like this and expect me not to lose my mind?”
You push back against him with a needy sound, hips arching higher, your ass grinding into the hardness still pressed between his thighs.
“Then do it.” You say, breathless. “Lose it, Noah.”
Noah curses as your body clenches around his finger, like even one of them was too much, too good—but he wasn’t close to done. He presses another in beside the first, sliding deep, your slick heat sucking him in without resistance.
Your hips jerk at the stretch, the ache in your belly blooming into something molten and sharp, and you bury a moan into the pillow.
“That’s it,” he mutters, low and tight. “Taking me so well…”
His free hand slides up the curve of your ass, fingers spreading wide, palming it roughly. Then he tugs—pulls the cheek out to the side, spreading you open. You feel the air kiss your skin, cool and sharp against the heat of your core.
“Fuck, look at you.” His voice is rough, wrecked. “So pretty like this. So fucking wet.”
You could hear it too, the slick sound of his fingers working in and out of you, could feel the way your body gripped him every time he twisted, every time he pushed just a little deeper.
Your hips roll again, chasing it, desperate and shameless.
“You want more?” He asks, breath hot against your back. His nose drags over the curve of your spine as he moves over you again, pressing kisses to your skin between thrusts of his fingers. “Say it.”
You gasp, back arching, needing.
“Yes,” you can't help but beg around a whisper. “More. Please.”
“Good girl.” He praises as he crooks his fingers just right, and your vision goes white for a second.
“Please,” you beg again, voice shaky, breath catching on the word.
He stills behind you, and the air in the room seems to thicken around the silence that follows. His hand tightens slightly on your ass, like he’s anchoring himself.
“Say it,” he rasps, voice low and frayed, grazing the shell of your ear. “Tell me what you want.”
You swallow, pulse pounding in your throat. It isn’t like you hadn’t thought about it before—God, you had—but this is real. This is now.
And still, the words came easier than you expected.
“I want your cock, Noah. Please. I need it.”
Something in him breaks—you feel it in the way he pulls his fingers from you with one last, slow stroke that makes you whimper.
Feel it in the sudden shift of his body behind you as he sits up, tugging the waistband of his sweats down just far enough to expose himself. The heat of him returns fast—closer, heavier, his cock brushing against the curve of your ass as he settles on top of you.
Then the tip of him slides between your folds, slow and deliberate, catching on your entrance but not pressing in—not yet.
He does it again, and again, letting you feel every inch, every promise. Teasing you with it.
“Jesus,” he breathes, voice strained. “You’re dripping, baby.” His hands bracket your hips, fingers flexing. “You don’t even know what that’s doing to me.”
You push back against him just enough to make him catch his breath, to make him grunt under it.
“Noah,” you gasp, “please—”
And then he gives in.
With a low, broken groan, he presses forward, the thick head of his cock pushing into you slowly, carefully, stretching you open in the most delicious way. Inch by inch, he fills you, and you can feel him shaking with restraint, with effort not to just slam into you all at once.
“Fuck,” he hisses, sinking deeper. “You feel—Jesus, you feel so fucking good.”
You’re trembling beneath him, fingers curling into his sheets, mouth parted in stunned pleasure as he bottoms out inside you, hips flush to yours. The stretch is deep, perfect, and your body clenches around him without meaning to, drawing a choked sound from his throat.
He folds over you, chest against your back, weight pinning you down in the best way. One hand pressed into the bed by your head, the other sliding around your waist to hold you steady.
His face nuzzles against your neck, breath hot and ragged.
“I’ve wanted this,” he whispers into your ear, voice raspy, trembling, “since the moment I met you.”
And then he rolls his hips, just once—hard, deep, and devastating. Your body rocks forward with it, the motion steady but growing bolder, deeper.
His hand snakes under your body and splays across your stomach, pressing against it and anchoring you to him while his mouth drags over the slope of your shoulder, teeth grazing skin.
Your breath comes out in gasps, your fingers clutching the sheets as your body pulses around him, slick and hot and aching. And still, he doesn’t rush.
Noah takes his time, like he wants to feel every second. Like he wants you to remember.
The stretch of him inside you is maddening, each drag out and push back in setting you alight. You’re so wet he moves without resistance, the glide effortless but thick with tension. The sound of it, of your bodies moving together, fills the room in the filthiest way.
You push back into him again, needy, wordless with it, and he moans like it has been torn from his chest.
As he fucks you, his hand slips lower, fingers brushing between your legs to where you’re swollen and soaked, and he curses under his breath when he feels how stretched you are around him, how wet.
“For me,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “You’re like this for me.”
The words send a pulse through you, your body tightening instinctively.
He circles your clit with those same fingers, light at first, just enough to tease. You whimper, hips jerking, so he keeps going—keeps fucking into you at that same maddening pace, his cock dragging against every spot that makes your vision blur, his fingers working your clit coaxing more wetness from your core, your thighs trembling.
You can feel it coming, the way your orgasm begins to coil deep and low, a knot of pleasure just on the edge of snapping. But still, you don’t want it to end—you want to stay here, being held, filled, claimed in this quiet, aching way only he knows how to.
His mouth brushes your ear, breath hot, panting.
“You close?”
You nod, the word caught in your throat. His hand presses harder, movements rougher now, and his voice breaks as he says your name again—this time desperate, reverent.
“Come on,” he rasps against your ear, and it's obvious he’s close to breaking himself. “Come for me. Let me feel you.”
And just like that, as if on cue, your body gives in.
Your orgasm hits like a wave—sharp, strong, curling through you as your muscles clench tight around him, hot and pulsing and soaked. You cry out, forehead pressing to the sheets, body arching helplessly into every roll of his hips.
Noah growls, low and hoarse, the sound barely human.
“Fuck—you feel so good—”
His rhythm stutters, falters.
“God—” he chokes, jaw clenched tight, and then he pushes in deep, grinding against you with one last desperate thrust. He holds there, buried to the hilt, his body shaking with release. You feel the first hot pulse of him spill inside you, deep and thick, followed by another, and another.
Noah grunts against your skin—raw, wrecked—and his hand fists the sheets beside yours, his other arm locked around your waist like he needs to hold you down, like if he doesn’t, he’ll come undone completely.
His hips roll for the last time—lazily, riding it out with trembling gasps against your ear, until the only thing left between you is the heavy silence of shared breath and the thundering in both your chests.
He doesn’t pull out right away. He just stays there—chest to your back, hand splayed over your belly, cock still twitching inside you, like he doesn’t ever want to let go.
Warnings: graphic writings of murder/killings, blood, gore, violence, serial killer, swearing, god complex, use of religion, obsession, dark romance, stockholm syndrome, non sexual shower scene, I’m pretty certain that’s it but please let me know if I’ve missed anything!
Another chapter done, we are getting very close to the end now, how’s everyone feeling about that? I’d love to hear all your thoughts and theories for the end 🖤
You woke the next morning, body heavy and sore and yet somehow blissfully peaceful.
You opened your eyes to see sunlight shining through the little window and illuminating the room around you.
It was then that the events of the night before suddenly came rushing back into your mind.
The sex, the blood, the murder.
You looked over to the corner of the room to see no body, just dark, dried bloodstains smeared across the concrete.
You sat up and held the sheets to your bare body, feeling how deliciously achy you were. You glanced down at your hands and arms to see blood still there, a visual reminder of your sins.
You should have felt guilt, shock, upset. But nothing.
You felt nothing.
“It’s been dealt with”
You jumped slightly and looked over to the open door to see Noah stood there leaning against the door frame with his arms folded and a small smirk across his lips.
“Wha…how?”
Noah chuckled and walked over towards the bed and sat down next to you.
“You were passed out angel, so I took care of it. You don’t need to know anymore than that”
You went to ask another question but you stayed quiet, you knew he wouldn’t tell you if even you asked and he was right, probably for the best that you didn’t know.
Noah reached his hand up and brushed some of your hair behind your ear.
“You looked so beautiful last night, you completely surrendered. Even god himself would have cowered in fear from you”
Noah glanced down at the stains over your skin.
“Come with me”
You stared at him confused.
“I said come with me angel, we should get you cleaned up”
You watched as he stood and walked towards the main door, you glanced over at the small bathroom area that you’d been using all this time.
“Upstairs detective, you don’t need to be down here any longer”
Your heart leapt at the thought of being free of these four walls, although Noah had made your stay here as comfortable as possible, this was still your prison.
You reached over and grabbed your night gown that was hanging off the dresser next to you, stood and wrapped it around your frame.
You felt almost nervous.
Was Noah really going to let you leave this place?
You tentatively took a few steps, the ground cold against your feet as you made your way over to him as he waited in the doorway.
You took a breath and went to walk on the stairs when…
*smack*
Noah’s hand slammed into the wall next to your head, his arm blocking your path as he leaned over you.
“Now I’m trusting you angel, you will be freed from this basement, you’ll be able to go anywhere in the house as you please, but….”
His voice turned cold as he removed his hand from the wall and grabbed you by the back of your neck. Not painful, but firm.
“Don’t do anything….stupid. I’m giving you some trust here baby. Don’t make me regret it. You may not be a prisoner down here anymore but that doesn’t mean I’ll just let you walk free. Understand?”
His thumb traces over your cheek almost lovingly as he stared down at you.
You nodded and grabbed his hand.
“I’m not going to run”
Noah smiled and then moved to the side to allow you to walk up the stairs.
You walked up the dark stairway and saw another door had been left ajar, your fingers reached for the handle. You hesitated, as if Noah was about to laugh and say it was all a cruel joke, but instead you felt his hand press gently into your lower back, guiding you through.
You walked out into a decent sized, modern styled kitchen.
Dark countertops, matte black cabinets. Everything in its place. No clutter, no dishes, not even a smudge of food or old soap on the draining board. The kind of kitchen that didn’t feel used, just…displayed.
It wasn’t cold exactly. Just clean. Neutral. Like a hotel suite that you could abandon at any given moment.
To the right an open doorway led into a living space, you glanced over the dark leather couch, low glass coffee table, books stacked in clean towers, not a cushion out of place and hardly any personal touches had been made to the room.
Noah’s hand guided you forward again, wordlessly, down the hallway that was bare of family photos but did have one or two paintings breaking up the white paint.
Noah stopped you in front of another door and he opened for you to reveal his bathroom.
Again it was modern in style, but vacant of any real decor making it look more like a show room instead of somewhere that’s lived in, although you did see a couple of his products on the shelf in the shower showing that he did in fact use this space.
You took a step in and finally casted your eyes up to the big mirror above the sink and was almost taken back by your reflection.
You stepped forward as if in a trance as you took in your appearance.
Blood was splattered onto your cheeks and temple, there was a bloody hand print covering light brushing on your neck, your hair was a tangled mess, dark circles surrounded your eyes and your skin appeared paler than usual.
You gripped the sink and once again saw blood, it covered your hands, went up your arms and you felt it under your nails.
You didn’t feel discomfort over it as such, just hollow, like a shell of what’s left.
You heard the sounding of running water and then felt Noah’s presence behind you. He kissed the side of your head as he undone the ties to your gown and he it let it fall to the ground in a silent heap.
“Come on”
His voice was gentle, it was almost overwhelming how his moods could change depending on the situation.
You allowed him to guide you over to the shower, the room was already filling with hot steam.
You stepped into the shower and sighed as the hot water cascaded over your body, the water on the ground turning red as it circled down the drain.
You felt Noah step in behind you, the feeling of his broad frame feeling like an anchor as you leant back into him, his arms wrapped around you like a cage, blocking everything else around you out.
You closed your eyes and enjoyed the feeling of your muscles relaxing in the heat.
“Let me clean you up angel”
And you did.
Noah picked up a clean wash cloth and soap and started to wash and rinse your body, washing away your sins.
It felt incredibly intimate, nothing sexual but almost soft. No words were spoken. He just moved with quiet precision, first your shoulders, then your back, then over your chest and down your arms. His touch was gentle, like he wasn’t just cleaning you…he was purifying you.
You felt his fingers pause at your wrists, where blood had dried in the creases. He lingered there for a moment longer than necessary, tracing slow circles with the cloth like he wanted to admire the stains before they were washed away.
You didn’t flinch. You didn’t speak.
You just let him.
As you watched his hands move, you then noticed the red nail marks in his arms, breaking up the ink in his skin. Your mind was then taken back to last night as you held onto his arms as he’d held onto you.
You then looked at his face, he was calm, so calm as if this was an every day occurrence, totally normal. But there was something else in his eyes, something so tender that it almost frightened you.
Once the blood had been completely washed off, Noah then moved to wash your hair, being careful to try and untangle the knots with his fingers before he used the shampoo and conditioner and massage them into your scalp.
You couldn’t help but let out a small grin of satisfaction as your head tilted back into his hands and you felt a low chuckle vibrate against your back.
“There we go”
You opened your eyes and turned around so you were staring up at him.
“Thank you”
Noah gave you a small smile, for a moment it was like old times, like none of the horrors were real. The way he looked at you had you wondering, and you couldn’t stop the question falling from your lips.
“What do you feel for me?”
Noah titled his head slightly at your question as you felt your stomach twist in knots waiting for his response. You knew your feelings for him, you had known for a long time, no matter how hard you’d tried to fight it.
Noah brushed some of your wet hair off your shoulder and let his fingers trace your skin absentmindedly before he leant down and pressed his lips against yours softly and then pulled back slightly so he could look you in the eyes.
“I would kill god for you angel, and then I’d use his bones to crave you a throne”
You felt your chest tighten.
“So…you love me?”
“Better, I worship you”
You didn’t speak after that, there was nothing left to say, you knew.
The steam wrapped around you like a veil as he reached for the water, turning it off with a soft click. Noah stepped out first, grabbing a towel from the rail. He wrapped it around you gently before grabbing his own. He pressed a kiss to your temple as you leaned into him with a small smile.
“Come on detective, let’s get you dressed”
•••••
The next day you were sat in his kitchen, the rest of yesterday had been like a dream, nothing much happened apart from you learning the lay out of his place and following him around.
You sipped on your coffee, still trying to adjust to being free of the basement, but Noah had bought your belongings upstairs and said you were free to place them wherever you liked today.
You heard the sound of the front door unlocking, because of course Noah wouldn’t leave it unlocked if he was out, and you heard his footsteps as he approached the kitchen.
You looked up and saw his tall frame come into view, his clothing a lot more casual today than you were used to seeing him wear and he had a newspaper tucked under his arm.
Noah didn’t say anything, he simply slid the paper across the table so it was in front of you.
NEWSPAPER HEADLINE
“Body Found Outside Courthouse in Apparent Staged Killing”
Photo under the headline only shows police tape and a tent erected outside the courthouse with offices standing on scene.
You put your cup down on the table and picked up the paper, unfolding it so you could read the article.
Victim identified as Ethan Collins, previously acquitted in high-profile cop killing case
Authorities have confirmed that a body discovered outside the downtown courthouse in the early hours of the morning belongs to 54 year old Ethan Collins, a man previously acquitted in the unsolved murder of an LAPD lieutenant 11 years ago.
The scene, which investigators have described as “symbolic” and “highly disturbing” has sparked immediate speculation about a possible connection to the Ten Commandments Killer, whose string of murders abruptly halted nearly two months ago.
Law enforcement has not released further details. The case is currently under investigation. Police have urged the public not to speculate and to report any relevant information to the local authorities.
You glanced up at Noah who was now drinking from his own cup with a small smirk.
“Told you I’d taken care of it”
You put the paper down and pushed your cup away, no longer in the mood.
“By placing the body at the courthouse?”
Noah shrugged casually.
“It sends a message, to the police it’s the 9th murder but you and I both know the commandments are done, it ended with me and you. The world will see my vision soon enough”
You frowned slightly.
“What do you mean?”
Noah leant forward on the table, his eyes boring into yours.
“It means that no matter what angel, my work will be complete. You can stay here with me. ‘Thou Shalt Not Kill’ and ‘Thou Shalt Have No Other Gods Before Me’….but those roles can easily be reversed”
He sat back in his chair with a sinister smile.
“I can’t just let you go free now can I? Stay with me angel, let me be your god”
You took a breath as his words weighed heavily on you, before you looked up to met his gaze.
Summary: Reader is a detective and is assigned to a murder case which she soon connects with previous killings and figures out the religious affiliation, proving there is a new serial killer within the city. Reader soon becomes obsessed with the killers mind and methods and won’t rest until she figures out who the killer is. All while she gets used to working with her new partner on the case, detective Noah Davis.
Warnings: graphic writings of murder/killings, blood, gore, violence, serial killer, swearing, god complex, use of religion, stockholm syndrome, mentions of the death of a parent, smut, PiV, use of an inanimate object, knife kink, blood play (in a way) obsession, dark romance, choking, I’m pretty certain that’s it but please let me know if I’ve missed anything!!
Im so sorry for such a long wait, life once again got in the way haha but as I’m up to date with everything else, I had to dive back into this world!! 5 chapters left until we are finished 👀
You stared up at him in shock, that sinister smile not once leaving his lips.
You tried to say something, anything but your words had become stuck in your throat.
“What’s the matter angel? Cat got your tongue?”
You blinked and shook your head slightly and glanced away to look at the one man you hated the most.
Ethan Collins.
It had been 11 years, 11 years since this man had taken everything from you. The day your father died, a part of you did as well and your life has never been the same since.
You watched as Ethan struggled against his restraints, his muffled cries coming through the gag in his mouth, his eyes fell into you with a plea for you to save him.
Tears pricked your eyes as you looked at the man, none of this feeling real.
You felt Noah’s presence come behind you as he whispered so close into your ear that it sent a chill down your spine, you could feel the heat of his breath and the weight of his words sinking into your soul.
“It ends tonight angel...all that pain, all that rage, just let go. He took everything from you. It’s time to take it back."
A tear ran down your cheek as you turned to look up at him.
“I…I can’t…how…why?!”
Noah smiled and brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear and wiped the tears away.
“Because you are the final piece of my puzzle, don’t you see? You’re my big finale”
“How?”
“Only two commandments left, angel,” he murmurs. “Just two more steps between you and salvation… or damnation.”
He circles you slowly, predatory, his eyes never leaving yours.
”‘Thou shalt not kill.’ That was never meant for people like him. Monsters deserve the grave they dug for others. And you…”
He gestures toward the man before you.
“You’ve carried this weight for too long. I’m giving you a gift, the power to end it.”
He stops in front of you, tilting his head.
“And the last one…’Thou shalt have no other gods before me.’”
A slow, sinister grin pulls at his lips.
“You already worship me. I see it in your eyes. The way your pulse races when I’m near. There’s no heaven waiting for you, not anymore. Just me. I am your beginning, your end…your god.”
Then his tone shifts, cold, final, razor-sharp. “So here’s the choice detective”
“Kill him and stand beside me. Or walk away and I promise you, I’ll put you down myself. No redemption. No escape. Because in the end, you were always meant to be mine…one way or the other.”
Your blood ran cold, this was his plan all along, this was what he wanted from the beginning.
“I…I’m not a killer like you!”
Noah chuckled low in his chest as he leant down closer, your lips brushing each other.
“No, you’re my little angel, one that I want to tempt into sin”
Ethan’s muffled cries became louder, causing your head to turn in his direction, seeing a look of fear and bewilderment on his face.
Noah smirked and walked over so he could rip the gag away from him, freeing his mouth so he could talk.
“What the fuck is this shit?! Who the fuck are you?!”
You turned to face him, brows frowned.
“You don’t know who I am do you?”
Ethan continued to struggled in his seat.
“No and I don’t give a shit! You’ll regret this when I get out of here you fucking bitch!”
You felt an anger starting to form in your gut, your hands balling at your side.
“I remember you, I’ve never forgotten your face”
Ethan then looked up at you, clearly trying to place you.
“What? Did I grope that pretty ass of yours in a bar or something? LET ME GO!”
“LOOK AT ME!”
He stopped and stared up at you with daggers, your body was shaking with so much adrenaline.
“You killed my father 11 years ago…”
Ethan studied your face, a sudden realisation overcoming him.
“You’re that daughter of that cop!”
You nodded as Noah came and walked behind you with his arms folded, clearing enjoying this interaction.
“He was a lieutenant and a very respected and loved man and father and you shot him down”
He started to struggle again.
“So what?! He got in my way so I removed the problem! I’ll do the same to you when I get out of this!”
Your blood was boiling, there was no remorse, he didn’t even care about his actions all those years ago.
Noah’s breath was warm against your ear as you felt his knife slipping into your hand.
"This is the last step, angel. He deserves it. You know he does."
The tears flowed freely down your cheeks, you clutched the knife in your hands as you stared at the man you hated the most.
“LET ME GO YOU SICK BITCH!! I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOUR FATHER AND I’LL DO THE SAME TO YOU WHEN I’M FREE!”
“Shut your mouth!”
He didn’t, he carried on yelling and rocking the chair in anger.
“LET ME GO! You don’t have it in you to kill me, you’re weak just like he was! I wonder if you’d have the same pathetic look in your eyes as you die like he did!”
You didn't hear yourself scream. Didn't feel the first swing. Or the second. Just the blood warm, thick, staining your skin like it belonged there as you stabbed away at the man in front of you, the blinding rage had washed over you like a cold winter wind, sharp and merciless, cutting through everything else. The man's laughter died in a wet choke, and still, you couldn't stop.
By the time you did, your hands were shaking, soaked in red. Ethan’s lifeless body slumped forward, crimson pooling beneath him and you felt it splashed onto your cheeks and soaking into your clothes.
The room was silent…except for the sound of your own ragged breath and Noah’s quiet, reverent whisper behind you.
“There she is”
Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of what you’d done crashing over you like a wave of static. Blood on your hands. On your skin. In your mouth.
You didn’t flinch when Noah stepped behind you again, his presence calm, so calm, as if this was always meant to be.
His hand slid around your waist, fingers smearing red across your stomach as he pulled you flush against him.
“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful,” he murmured against your ear, voice thick with reverence and something far darker.
Your heart thundered in your chest, but not from fear. From something else…something hotter, more feral.
You hated how good it felt to hear him say that. You hated how your body leaned into his without thinking. But most of all…you hated that he was right.
He turned you to face him, his fingers still wet with Ethan’s blood as they traced down the side of your neck, painting you like a canvas that he owned.
“You crossed the line” he whispered, tilting your chin up, his eyes burning into yours. “And now there’s no going back.”
Then his lips crushed into yours, hungry, claiming, tasting the ruin he’s created in you.
You kissed him back with as much force as he gave to you, letting yourself get lost in the feeling of him, like he was the only thing keeping you anchored down.
You pulled away and stared up at his face, now covered in the blood that stained yours, something primal and ferocious came over you.
You pulled him back down for another bruising kiss, your teeth nipping at his lips which caused a low growl to come from him.
“Make me feel something! Hit me! Cut me! Anything!”
The knife still clutched in your hand, your emotions numbed as you pushed against Noah, pushing him to fight back, his almost cruel laughter echoing around the room.
Noah grabbed you harshly by your hair at the base of your skull and tilted your head up as he took the knife from you.
“There’s my girl, I knew she was in there somewhere, you’re just as dark and deprived as me”
The next few moments were a blur, both of you ripping each other’s clothes off as he backed you up to the bed.
You found yourself staring up at him, your chest heaving up and down as he suddenly waved the knife at you with a smirk, the blade glistening in the dim light through the blood that coated the steel.
With slow, calculated precision, he drags the tip of the knife, not sharp, not enough to cut, just enough, up your thigh, over your hip, tracing the curves of your body like he's sketching art into your skin as a trail of blood was left in its wake. You arch toward him, breath catching in your throat as you let out a moan.
"That's it," he growls. "Let me see you come apart for me”
Noah drags the blade down and traces around your inner thighs again, you should be scared, but you weren’t, you needed this, needed him like you needed oxygen.
“Open”
You spread your legs at his command, your core already dripping with desire for him.
Noah’s mouth fell open as he gazed down at you like you were the most delicious meal.
“Perfect”
You watched as he flipped the blade in his hand and ran the handle over your slick folds.
“You’re the altar, angel and I’m worshiping. I'm your loyal acolyte, here to worship and to ruin”
Your head fell back as the handle was pushed into you slowly, your walls gripping it instantly.
“His blood’s still warm on it. Do you feel how it fits? Like it was made to be between your thighs instead of between his ribs”
You cried out and moved your hips in time with his hand as he used the blade on you, a sick reminder of what you’ve done but instead of shame, all you felt was heat. Twisted, hungry, consuming heat that wrapped around your spine and ignited everything inside of you.
Noah’s breath was ragged as he watched you writhe beneath him, the blood slick handle pumping in and out with a deliberate rhythm.
“That’s it” he murmured.
Your fingers clawed at the sheets, desperate for more, more pressure, more pain, more of him. You needed to feel him, to lose yourself completely in the madness he’s dragged you into.
He pulled the knife from you slowly, deliberately, coated in you, in death. And then he tossed it aside and climbed on top of you, settling between your legs like he belonged there.
“I want you to ride me,” he growled, dragging you up with him, positioning you in his lap with your back against his chest. “I want you to look at what you did while I ruin what’s left of you.”
Your eyes flicked to the slumped body in the chair, still bleeding out into the floor. You felt no horror, only power pulsing through you like a second heartbeat.
His hand curled around your throat, tightening just enough to make your vision pulse at the edges as you sank down onto him with a cry.
“Eyes open, angel. I want you to watch while I make you mine”
Noah helped you start to move your hips on top of his, the feeling of his hard length reaching deep within you as your breath was being choked under his grasp.
You moan and moved your body faster, desperate to chase the high flooding your body.
Noah’s groans came deep from within his chest that vibrated against your back as he kept your head up and facing your kill across the room.
It was all too much, your bodies moved in a brutal, perfect rhythm, your cries carried around the room.
“Look at him,” he snarled through gritted teeth, dragging your gaze back to the lifeless body still slumped in the chair. “This is what it took to set you free. This…this is who you are now.”
You knew it was true, you felt it, you could taste it.
“Noah…” you choked, voice broken, shaking. “I’m gonna…”
Your vision blurred as your climax hit like a violent wave, tearing through you with a force that stole your breath from your body. You cried out, high and raw as your body trembled, every nerve alight with fire.
He followed with a low, guttural moan, hips jerking up as he spilled inside you, his head falling to your shoulder, teeth grazing your skin like he could devour you whole.
The world was silent again. Except now, it was yours.
Your body went limp in his arms and you felt his hands slide around your middle as he held you close.
Not like prey. Like possession.
Like you're his very own religion.
And @iluvmewwwww75 I don’t know if you remembered this post but you heavily inspired me last year for this chapter so this one is definitely dedicated to you my lovely 🖤
content warnings: partner sharing, oral sex (m receiving), handjob, ✨ sexy birthday surprises ✨, voyeurism, lingerie, feelings and sweeties being sweeties and lots of kissing as always, 18+ only
author’s note: finally matty’s birthday fic is here, several months late, a follow up to this one. here's your request @concretejunglefm. it look a lot of hand holding. i hope you love it bb <3
banner by my beloved @darksigns-exe 💖
Your heart rate spikes as you wait for Matt to walk through the door.
You run your fingers over the expanse of your bare skin, a slight tremble in your hand. Sexy lingerie isn’t new to you and Matt, but the surprise of it is, as is the surprise of what you have waiting for him in the bedroom.
Nagging in the back of your mind is a vague fear that he won’t like it. You don’t want to ruin his birthday, or to embarrass anybody. You know he doesn’t love surprises, even though you’re certain this would qualify as a good one.
He was gone before you woke up this morning, leaving you with a lingering kiss and no time to do more than mumble a happy birthday, baby as he left you. It’s left you with plenty of time to prepare, though you do wish that you had been able to spend his entire birthday treating him special.
The silk of your robe is cool against your skin, soothing but only worsening the goose pimpling of your skin brought on by the anxiety of this evening.
When you hear his key turning in the lock, you wrap your robe around yourself and pad out into the living room to greet him. Upon laying eyes on you, his mouth stretches into a grin that makes your stomach swoop, your cheeks heat.
“You look comfy,” he comments, pulling you close to him and pressing a kiss to your cheek. Before he can pull away, you turn your head to capture his lips, displeased with the lack of birthday kisses he’s had today. His fingers toy with the tie on your robe, and you’re happy to let him pull it loose and expose what’s underneath. His lips spread into a pleased little grin at the sight of the strappy red lace set you’d picked out for him, his lips kissing a path down your neck. “This is different from your usual.”
Your nerves kick up a little as you prepare to tell him. You know he won’t be mad, at least not for long, at least not at you. Still, the thought of confessing a secret makes your stomach turn. “I had a friend help me pick it out.”
The slightest twinge of jealousy flashes across his face, and without your own permission, heat pools in the pit of your tummy. You can’t help that you kind of like that look on him. It’s gone as soon as it appeared, though, a mock calm replacing his expression.
“Oh?” he asks, faking nonchalance. You’re quick to reassure him, not buying his act for even a moment.
“It’s okay, I think you would approve,” you tell him, delighting in the nervous-excited-panicked look that enters his eyes. “There’s a surprise waiting for you in the bedroom.”
It amuses you a bit how he doesn’t wait to turn on his heels and head quickly in that direction, grabbing your hand and dragging you along with him. You can’t blame him: it is his birthday, after all, and everyone loves a treat.
Nothing could have prepared you, though, for what you’re greeted with on the other side of the door.
One week prior.
Things have been different since the last encounter.
Everything when you’re with Matt alone is much the same, just as wonderful as always, but things change when Davis is around.
Matt’s gaze lingers a little long, and you so often catch Davis staring back, almost longing. To their luck, their glances never quite meet each other, but it’s all you can see, the only thing you can pay attention to most of the time.
Nothing else has happened since that night, and it hasn’t come up. It isn’t awkward, per se, but you can’t get it out of your head. The way they had looked at each other, the way they had kissed, the way they handled you with juxtaposing gentle and rough hands.
There isn’t an ounce of jealousy in you as you watch them. All you want is to have them again, for them to have each other.
Your plans for part two had begun to fade the longer no one spoke about it, but it’s still there, nagging. The buzzing beneath your skin, the images of them together.
And you can tell they want each other.
While you’re in your bedroom, looking over the too many lingerie options you’d purchased for Matt’s birthday surprise, an idea pops into your head.
Your finger hovers over his contact for just a moment before sending through the video call.
When his face eventually pops up on your screen, your stomach swoops in a way you still aren’t quite used to. You aren’t used to him making you this nervous — he hasn’t in all the time that you’ve known him — but everything is suddenly so different.
His expression shifts a little incredulous as you remain frozen, suddenly unsure of how to approach this.
“What can I do for ya?” he offers, cutting through the anxiety that’s built up in you.
“You know Matt pretty well, right?” you ask him, and a look of curiosity and slight confusion passes his face before he nods. “I have a surprise planned for his birthday and… I wanted to know if you’d help me.”
Never one to turn down the opportunity to be helpful, he quickly agrees, even as you flip the camera to the lingerie you have laid out on the bed, watch his eyes go a little wide and glazed over.
You pan slowly over all the options you’ve picked out. He makes a snide little comment about how you should have asked for his help before you bought everything, but his pretty little giggle keeps you from having any hurt feelings. His expression changes when you pan over the pink silk teddy, but it shifts right back almost before you have a moment to notice.
“The red one with the straps,” he tells you. “Matty loves red.”
The fire in your tummy kindles — Matty loves red, said so matter-of-fact. Matty slipping past his lips so nonchalantly.
It’s as good of a time as ever. You want to give Matt a little more for his birthday. Something you know he’s really been wanting.
“I had another idea for his birthday, too,” you start, his eyebrows lifting curiously as he motions for you to continue. “You liked what we did, right? You liked it with Matt?”
A shyness you’re not quite used to passes his expression, and for a moment, you worry that you’ve misread the situation. He nods so hesitantly. All you hope is that he isn’t just trying to appease you, until he speaks up, his voice shaky but sure. “I did. I really did.”
He really did.
“Do you want to do it again?”
The excitement in his expression, the twinkle in his eye, answers your question better than his God, yes ever could.
You do feel guilty about how long you left him, but when you told him to go to the bedroom and wait, you didn’t expect much more than that.
Instead, you walk through the threshold of your bedroom to a sight you never could have imagined. Matt’s breath catches in his throat, mirroring your own shock. You chance a look over to your boyfriend to see his eyes glazed over, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, his expression a gorgeous mix of excitement and uncertainty.
Kneeling on the bedroom floor beside the bed is Davis, not clothed as you’d expected, or unclothed. Rather, he’s wearing a pretty little thing, a pink silk teddy with lace lining the hem and neckline. It’s short — he’s exposed almost to the tippy top of his upper thigh, and your eyes unfocus at the sight. You can’t help it.
His hands are folded politely in his lap and he looks beautiful like this, breathtakingly so. You’re so taken aback you just have to reach out for Matt, give his hand a little squeeze. There’s an unspoken plea in his eyes as he turns to you, almost as if to say “Can I?”
“You want him, don’t you?” you ask, parroting his own words back to him. His eyebrow furrows, so nervous, before he nods.
“Go ahead, baby, he’s here for you.”
You don’t know that you’ve ever seen him so unsteady on his feet as he makes his way over to Davis. When he gets close and Davis unfolds his hands, reaches out for him, Matt falls to his knees in front of him. Your heart clenches.
“Happy birthday, Matty,” you hear whispered, watch as Matt brings a hand up to the side of Davis’ face, tucks his hair behind his ear.
You want to get closer — you need to be so much closer, but you can’t risk disturbing their delicate moment if you move. You listen in as best as you can, admire the way they both go so soft for each other.
“Some surprise, huh?” Matt says, a tiny chuckle in his uncharacteristically ultra-shy tone.
“Do you like it?” Davis asks, sounding so much shyer himself, like he so desperately needs that reassurance.
Everything is still for a moment, then two. A wave of panic flashes over Davis’ face, and you wonder what they’re both thinking.
Your mind travels back to how you watched them, how they each became so pliant, responsive and malleable under the other’s touch.
Matt cups a hand around the back of Davis’ head and you watch his exhale as every muscle physically relaxes, relief floods his face. You can hear Matt sigh just before he leans in, presses their lips together and melts into him.
The envy that you half-expect to creep in, as you watch your boyfriend kiss and treat someone else so sweetly and gently, doesn’t come. Something you never expected for even a moment, not even as you asked Davis to join you once more, is how right it would feel.
You’ve grown so accustomed to Matt, mean to everyone sweet to you. You’re so endeared by his put-on grouchy exterior, the exterior that you know crumbles the moment he’s around someone he loves. That little bit of extra softness, that vulnerability, has for ages been reserved for you.
As you watch Davis draw all that vulnerability from him so effortlessly — with just a look, a touch — you can’t imagine not wanting to keep this.
You find yourself lost in a trance, until Matt’s voice calling your name draws you out.
“Baby,” he says, his voice still sounding a little distant as you come back to reality, out of your head. “Why are you so far away?”
When you focus in on him, his body is half-turned in your direction with his arm reaching out for you, his other hand still cupping the back of Davis’ head. You find yourself drawn to him, to them, to get closer.
More than anything, though, you find yourself wanting to watch.
“Pretend I’m not here,” you respond, amused as both of their expressions shift, as if it’s an absolutely outrageous request. “I want to look at you two.”
“You can look at us from a little closer,” Davis suggests, and the pretty little plea in his eyes, in both of theirs, convinces you. Their eyes sparkle, delighted as you make your way over to them, kneel next to Matty.
Davis reaches for you first, a gentle hand in your hair as he draws you in, places a delicate kiss to your lips, and then another. His tongue plays at the seam of your lips before you spread them just slightly, let him in. A hand that is unmistakable as Matt’s slips up the back of your robe and settles heavily on your lower back, a kiss on the exposed skin of your shoulder from where it had slipped down. You’re surrounded.
“You do look awfully pretty,” you tell Davis as you pull away, your hand keeping its place on his heated cheek. “Maybe I could put some mascara on you next time.”
“Next time?” Matt asks from behind you, but there’s not a tone there, nothing bad, just a pleased curiosity as he kisses a trail from behind your ear, down your neck, over your shoulder. “We get to have a next time?”
You can’t imagine why you’d say no — not when Matt is touching you like this, kissing you like this; not when Davis is looking at both of you the way he is.
“C’mere, I have a secret to tell you,” Davis chimes in, pulling you close to him once again, pressing his lips to your ear to whisper. “I want to get my mouth on him. You think he’ll let me?”
You feel the smirk spread across your face, watch as Davis turns shy again, unsure what your answer will be. You place a comforting hand on his bare thigh as you turn your attention back to Matt.
“You might want to stand up, honey,” you whisper into the skin of his flushed cheek, kiss a path to his ear, nibble on his earlobe. “Someone wants to get his mouth on you.”
“Oh?” Matt responds as he pulls himself slightly away from you, bringing your face into his focus.
You nod in response, get to your feet and bring Matt along with you. When you redirect his attention back down, you really get the full picture — Davis on his knees, hands folded politely in his lap, looking up at Matt with the sweetest, most desperate expression. “And he looks so pretty, don’t you think?”
“So fucking pretty,” Matt mutters to no one but himself. His thumb fingers over the bulge his cock makes in Davis’ cheek and groans, watches in awe as the angle changes and his eyes flutter closed, taking Matt deeper and deeper until his nose presses just slightly to the skin of his lower belly. “Holy fucking shit.”
As you watch him, you distantly wonder how many times he’s done this, how many guys have had the pleasure of feeling the wet warmth of his mouth, watching his pretty lashes brush against the tops of his flushed cheeks. He goes at it like it’s second nature to him, but still when he pulls back a bit and gazes upwards, his teary expression and the desperation in his eyes are that of someone so new to it, still longing for approval.
Matt seems to catch it too, reluctantly peels his eyes away from Davis for just long enough to tilt his head towards you and press a kiss to your cheek.
“Why don’t you get down there with him?” Matt suggests, shifting his gaze back down towards Davis. It’s a tempting proposition to get yourself closer to him, and when his eyes flutter back open and land on you, you’ve pretty much made your mind up.
You get back down to his level, kneeling slightly behind him, and it’s all so much more from this perspective. Matt towering over you like this isn’t exactly something you’re not used to. Matt towering over you like this, with the heated skin of someone else beneath your fingertips, however, is brand new.
You press kisses to the tops of his shoulders, the nape of his neck, his skin red hot beneath your lips. You sneak your fingers down under his pretty silk teddy, delicately tracing over his tummy, basking in the way his muscles contract and relax beneath your wandering hands. As you move your hands down, down, down — the back of your hand makes contact with him, hard and insistent, and you kind of can’t help yourself.
“Baby,” you whisper into his ear. He shivers, his skin goose pimpling beneath your fingers. You run your hand over him again, feel him twitch. “Can I touch you?”
Even with his mouth full, he nods so desperately. You hear Matt gasp, clear he caught a bit of teeth, and you can’t help but chuckle, tease him.
“Don’t worry, baby, he likes it,” you tell Davis.
Your hand wraps loosely around his cock. Even without much added pressure, he whines through his full mouth, causing another gasp from Matt. You feel so overwhelmed, so surrounded, so grateful that you were able to find yourself here again.
When you look up at Matt, you can tell he’s getting close. His head is thrown back, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. His gaze shifts back down — first to Davis, briefly, then to you — his brow is furrowed, his eyes brimming with tears. You know that look.
Your grip on Davis tightens, insistent, determined to get him there. He’s whimpering so pitifully, whining pathetically as Matt gets a handful of his hair and holds him still, fucking his hips forward sloppily.
You bury your face into Davis’ back, pressing kisses to his skin, muttering little encouragements to him.
“Are you close?” you ask him. You don’t expect an answer — he’s plenty busy — but he groans so gorgeously. “I know, honey. He is, too.”
Without even looking, you can tell from Matt’s sounds alone that he’s reaching his end. You’re determined to get Davis there, too, to hear both your boys’ pretty sounds at once.
Matt pulls out, a telltale sign that he’s almost there. The hand not working his cock reaches out for Davis, a gentle hand cupping his cheek.
“Stick your tongue out for me?” he asks, his thumb stroking along Davis’ bottom lip. You don’t see him blush, but you feel the way his skin heats beneath your cheek where it’s resting on his back. He doesn’t take even a beat before he does as he’s told, lets his mouth fall open for Matt to place himself on his tongue.
It’s not long before Matt stills, releases into Davis’ open mouth. Surprised, you admire Davis’ struggle to remain upright, open, as his orgasm hits him just as hard. His cum spills over your fingers, onto his belly, onto the hem of his pretty dress.
You let go of him slowly, let him adjust. You rest your head on his shoulder, wrap your arms tightly around his middle. Matt, now kneeling on the floor in front of you, runs his fingers through your hair.
“Your turn, baby?” he offers.
“We actually have dinner reservations soon, so we should probably get cleaned up,” you respond. You feel it beneath your hands, the way Davis tenses, though you know he was trying his best not to. You’re quick to reassure him, feel the relief flood through him when you do. “For the three of us.”
You’re sure not to miss the flush this time, when you let your fingers stroke the silky fabric of the item he’s now removing from his body.
“Will you put this back on for my turn later?” you ask, watching his eyes sparkle.
18!!! smut and sexual content!!! do not read if that makes you uncomfortable!!!
i was listening to the interview noah did with joel madden while writing this and holy fuck his voice....that's all 😃
She was finally home. After what felt like the longest day of her life, she was finally home. She heaved a sigh as she shut the front door and set her things down on the kitchen table. The house was dark except for the light coming off the stove and the back porch light reflecting off the kitchen floor from outside.
She noticed Noah’s bags were packed already, sitting near the laundry room door. Her chest felt heavy when she remembered he was leaving in the morning for a festival. He’d be gone for a few days this time but he was going to visit a couple friends on the way back. Shit. Shit shit shit.
She makes her way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water before heading into the bedroom. Noah’s sound asleep, his long torso stretched across the mattress. The sheet’s only covering half of his body; he must’ve gotten too warm under the blankets even though it was November. She checked the thermostat in the hallway and turned it up a little bit. Noah hated being warm but it was a bit cold in this house for her right now.
She tried to find her way to the bathroom in the dark room, trying to be as quiet as possible so she didn’t wake her sleeping boyfriend. Noah was a light sleeper but some days he could sleep through a tsunami.
She washed her face, brushed her teeth, and changed out of her uncomfortable work clothes to get ready for bed. She threw on a t-shirt of Noah’s that she found on the dresser, stripping out of the rest of her clothes and tossing them to the floor. She’d take care of them in the morning, it was too late for her to really care where they ended up right now.
She tried to get into bed without waking up Noah but it was too late; he was already awake when she pulled the blankets up over her legs.
“Sorry,” she said softly, watching the way the sheet drew lower on his body when he stretched to face her.
“S’alright. Couldn’t really sleep anyways.”
“Are you all packed for tomorrow?”
“Mostly.”
She lowered herself under the blankets and reached for him, stroking her thumb over his cheek. He closed his eyes, humming at the feeling of her warm skin against his.
“Wish you were coming with me,” he whispered, a hint of sadness in his voice. Her lips curved up in a small smile. She scooted closer to him and pressed her lips to his gently. He sighed, his hands immediately wrapping around her waist to pull her closer.
“I wish I was too,” she whispered back, holding his face in her hands gently.
“Who am I gonna sleep next to while I’m gone?”
“Probably Jolly,” she teased, rubbing her nose against his. He chuckled.
“I’m not gonna be able to give Jolly any orgasms though.”
She lets out a boisterous laugh into the darkness of their room, one where her eyes scrunched up and her sides start hurting.
“Jesus Christ, Noah!” she laughed, smacking his chest gently. He winked at her, kissing the top of her head and pulling her on top of him.
“I can give you some though,” he teased, his tattooed hands running up and down the soft skin of her thighs. She chuckled, resting her hands over his.
“You have to be up early.”
“But I can’t sleeeeeep,” he whines playfully, intertwining their hands, sticking his nose in the nape of her neck to breathe her in. She giggles and fits their fingers together, staring down at his perfect face. He smiles up at her. She gets an idea.
“Were you good today?”
She feels him tense underneath her and sits up with her in his lap still.
“Yes,” he swallows.
“You promise?” She rests their foreheads together, closes her eyes and inhales him. His scent, his warmth, his everything.
“Yes baby.”
“Wanna fuck me?”
“Fuck yes.”
He barely finishes his words before he’s reaching for the hem of her shirt, his shirt, to pull it over her head. His mouth is immediately on her breasts, sucking her nipples into his mouth, rolling them between his tongue. She moans, tangling her fingers in his hair, rolling her hips against his lap, feeling him harden underneath her.
“Fuck me like this,” she breathes. He nods, dipping his fingers into her underwear, feeling her wetness against the pad of his fingers.
“I’m gonna fucking miss this,” he moans, pressing his fingers against her opening, fucking her slow, “feeling you like this for me. Always feel so good.”
“You’ll be back,” she says, rolling her hips against his fingers, “3 days…”
“Too long,” he kisses her, pressing his tongue into her mouth, tasting her. He needs to be inside of her now.
“I’m gonna come,” she moans, rocking her hips faster against his fingers, clenching around him. He groans at the feeling, pulling his fingers from her. He wants to come inside of her, with her wrapped around him. He needs to feel her.
She whines when he pulls his fingers from her, lying back on the bed to pull her underwear off. Noah does the same, laying against the pillows to drag his boxers down his legs. They both toss their garments to the floor before he situates himself again, wrapping his hand around her wrist to pull her back to him. She stares at him for a moment before grabbing his length and running her hand up and down. He rolls his head back, moaning and squeezing the skin of her thigh.
“Jesus baby,” he breathes, biting his lip and tugging her by the leg this time to wrap them around his waist. She lines his length up with her center, looking adoringly into his eyes as she slowly sinks down on him. They both moan, tightening around one another, wrapping their arms around one another as they rock into each other.
“So good,” she moans, rocking her hips. Noah raises his hips at the same time, creating a delicious rhythm that his head spinning. He loves this woman so much, more than he’s ever loved anyone. More than he could ever fathom.
“You feel so fucking good, holy fuck…”
“I love you, unh..”
Their mouths meet in a messy clash of lips and tongues as they continue to move against one another. The feeling is like nothing he could ever imagine; every time they do this it feels like the first time again. Absolutely nothing compares to the feeling of her wrapped around him, her skin against his, entangled and intertwined but fitting like two pieces of a puzzle. This is everything to him.
“I love you, I love you,” he chants, his hands cupping her face and deepening their kiss as much as he possibly can. As close as he can pull her before it feels like their molding into one another.
“C-close.”
“Fuck me too.”
One of his hands finds her breasts and rolls the flesh in his palm, the other hand moves down to where their bodies meet. He draws circles on her clit with his fingertips, earning a gasp from her. The sensations of his hands on her skin causing her to clench around him again.
“Oh…oh fuck,” her head falls back against her shoulder blades, his lips meeting the skin of her collarbones, sucking gentle kisses into the skin.
“You gonna come baby?”
“Yesss.” Her hips rock faster against him, his length throbbing inside of her as she finishes. He’s not far behind her but her words of encouragement bring him to the end much faster. Her praises, her hands on him, her lips on his jawline, it’s too much for both of them.
“Noah…baby…”
“Almo-” and he’s there. He comes inside of her, his hips stuttering upwards, hands squeezing the skin of her thighs, her breasts, anywhere that he can before he’s gone again. Before he can’t feel this for a week. Before he can’t touch her, kiss her. He needs to feel her a bit longer.
“One more,” he starts moving his hips again, laying her down onto the mattress. She moans, spreading her legs for him. He presses kisses to her thighs, knees, down her legs, her ankles, before coming back up where she needs him the most.
“Can you give me one more?”
“Mhm.”
“That’s my girl.” He nips at the crease between her stomach and her thigh, causing a giggle to slip from her lips. It’s turned into a moan as he suddenly nips at her center, his tongue slipping inside of her. He moans against her, tasting the two of them on his tongue from their lovemaking. Her hands are in his hair, tangling deeply in the roots as he makes her come again with his mouth. Her favorite.
Her breath comes fast and her legs shake against his head, entrapping him. He’s not complaining; he could stay here forever with her. Tasting her, worshipping her.
His tattooed hands, forever contrasting against the clean skin of her thighs, are so hot to her and she could go again if she wasn’t tired already. He stays between her legs for a few more seconds before kissing her thighs again and moving up to kiss her stomach, trailing all the way up to her lips. She cups his face in her hands, tasting herself on his tongue and her stomach flips. He’s so hot.
“You’re fucking incredible,” he sighs in her mouth, feeling so overwhelmed and tired and sated from the feeling of her, the feeling of their intimacy.
“Says you,” she says sleepily. He smiles, kissing her one more time before laying next to her, pulling the blankets up over them and encasing them in their own little bubble, yet to burst as he still has to wake up in four hours. He’s relaxed though now; he’s glad he could spend one more night with her before leaving again.
“I love you. A lot.”
“I love you,” she closes her eyes, wrapping her arm around his torso, her legs tucking against his. Their naked skin has a thin layer of sweat between them but it doesn’t bother them; it feels like home, the smell of sex and vanilla coming from Noah’s skin.
“Gonna go to the airport with me in the morning?”
“Mmm,” is the only answer he gets. Close enough. He smiles, kissing the corner of her mouth and pulling her as close as he can. He loves this woman and he knows that no matter what, she’ll be there.
and i was making you a wish in every skyline ( jolly karlsson x noah sebastian )
pairing: jolly karlsson x noah sebastian
cw: 18+ MDNI ⚠️ dom/sub undertones, a blip of angst, subby noah who’s a little bit of a brat, hair tie as a cock ring (don't try this at home kids), spitting, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, blowjobs, masturbation, praise kink.
word count: 1.7k
author's note: happy sunday, i'm still not over the new content so have some jolly and noah smut. deeply inspired by @ladyveronikawrites giving me the idea of a use for "the boyfriend's hair tie". title comes from "how big, how blue, how beautiful" by florence and the machine. divider by @cyberangel-graphics.
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Jolly has ulterior motives when he tells Noah there’s something wrong with the song and he wants him to stay behind to listen to it. He feels a little bad when he sees the immediate anxiety spread across Noah’s face as everyone is leaving. He isn’t trying to stress him out, he’s trying to get Noah alone. As soon as everyone’s gone, Noah makes a beeline for the computer, shoulders tense. Before he can touch the keyboard, Jolly’s grabbing one of his wrists, twisting it behind his back effectively enough to draw a surprised whine out of Noah’s throat.
“The song is perfect, I lied,” Jolly whispers in his ear, pressing a soft kiss to the skin just beneath it. “But you’re still not done here tonight.”
He feels Noah slowly relax into him and he uses his hold on Noah’s wrist to pull him away from the desk until he’s got him in the middle of the recording room. The led lights cast him in the soft, purple glow and Jolly’s never seen anything more beautiful. He walks a circle around him and he doesn’t even need to say anything, Noah just keeps both of his arms behind his back, one wrist clasping the other as he squares his shoulders.
“You’re amazing, you know?” Jolly stops in front of him so he can see his reaction, the way he inhales sharply before a bashful smile spreads across his face. He tries to duck his head, but Jolly tucks a hand beneath his chin. “Ah no. Eyes on me, baby. You know the rules.”
Nodding, Noah meets his gaze head on. “Do I have to repeat it?”
“You do.”
There was a time when he wouldn’t have, when Jolly had to wring the words out of him and even then it had been a struggle because Noah didn’t believe it. He worked hard to get him to understand he deserved every bit of praise anyone gave him. Noah would see it as ego, but Jolly had explained it to him that it was more that Noah should be able to show himself that he deserved the praise.
“I’m amazing.” he says it confidently, still blushing. “What do I get for saying it?”
Jolly likes when he gets sassy with him, when he makes it fun. He likes to let him set the tone of how this is going to go. He walks around him again, fingers tiptoeing along Noah’s shoulders until he laughs and lets out some of the tension there that he’s still holding. He only lets go of his wrist when Jolly starts to pull the hair tie free from it. Noah doesn’t have to be told to resume his previous position, he just does it.
“You look good like this,” Jolly says, stepping close enough that his chest presses into Noah’s, and his hands slide over his hips, curling around them and tugging Noah even closer. He moans and does his best to stay still, until Jolly reaches between them to palm his cock. His fingers close around him, stroking him over his pants. Noah doesn’t look away from him, but Jolly can see it in his eyes that he’s going to move, seconds before he does it.
Noah’s mouth collides with Jolly’s desperately, and he lets him. He kisses him back for a few minutes before he puts his hand around Noah’s jaw and pushes his head back. Noah whines again but Jolly only shakes his head. He leans in long enough to brush his nose against his.
“Take off your clothes for me.”
Noah takes off his hat and tosses it aside, before reaching back to pull his shirt up and off. Jolly watches him greedily as he leaves everything on the floor. His eyes track over tattoos that he’s memorized with his hands and his mouth, down to his cock which he’s become just as acquainted with. Noah stays still under his appraisal, waiting.
“You know what I’m going to do with this, right?” Jolly asks as he twirls the hair tie around on his finger. Noah nods. “You can say no, but I’d like you to try it for me.”
“Okay. You can put it on me.”
It’s a little unconventional, but it gets the job done. Noah whimpers as Jolly fits it around the base of his cock, and he has to check that it’s not going to hurt him while also making sure that there’s something to remove it should he need to be nearby.
“The minute this starts to feel more than just uncomfortable, take it off for yourself, okay? Don’t wait to tell me.”
“Yes,” Noah breathes out.
Jolly sets an alarm on his phone for thirty minutes. That’s all he’ll risk him wearing the hair tie for. As it is, Noah’s grown more flush, and he’s getting twitchy. Jolly ghosts his fingers along his length, fascinated with the way it jumps beneath his touch.
“Perfect,” Jolly murmurs, giving Noah a chaste kiss. “Why don’t you get on your knees for me, baby? If you can make me come before the alarm goes off, you’ll get to come before we leave.”
Noah’s eyes gleam at the challenge. Jolly thinks that he’s just going to get on his knees right there but he doesn’t, not at first. Putting his hands on Jolly’s hips, he backs him up until he sits down on the sofa, and then he sinks down to kneel between his spread legs. Jolly puts his phone on the cushion beside him and reaches down to shove his sweatpants down his thighs. Noah immediately reaches up to grab onto his cock. He gives it a light squeeze and works his hand up and down a few times, rising up further on his knees.
“Wait,” Jolly curls a hand around the edge of Noah’s jaw, sitting up a little. Noah seems to know what he’s going to do without him having to say and he opens his mouth. The noise that he makes when Jolly spits on his tongue makes his cock twitch, and he presses his fingers beneath Noah’s chin to close his mouth for him. “Okay, go ahead.”
He watches as Noah gathers his own saliva in his mouth to mix with Jolly’s and spits it onto the head of Jolly’s cock. Never looking away from him, Noah drags his tongue down to the base and back up, spreading the spit around as he licks over the head slowly. Despite the current time limit he's been giving, he's taking his sweet time. He teases at the underside of Jolly's cock with his tongue and then takes him in slowly.
He settles in a steady rhythm, and if Jolly didn't know any better he'd think he's going to miss the alarm on purpose. He digs his fingers into the cushion beside him, eyes flicking from Noah's face to his phone before meeting Noah's eyes again.
"Hands behind your back again," he groans out.
Noah whines around his cock, doing what he was told. and Jolly immediately threads his hands into Noah's hair to try to guide him faster. He can hear him breathing raggedly through his nose, tears streaming down his face. He’s trying to be careful in how far he’s pushing him, but Noah presses his head back against Jolly’s hands until he’s able to pull off enough to suck in a breath. He’s crying now, which is something he does and something Jolly’s always been into.
“You can make me take it, Jolls,” his voice is absolutely wrecked and if they’re recording tomorrow then Jolly is going to be in big trouble. “It’s okay.”
Growling out a curse, Jolly takes him at his word. His fingers tighten in Noah’s hair and he shoves his head back down, until Noah gags around him. Jolly can hear the little sounds he's making in his throat, whining groans that push him closer to the edge, and Noah works to take him further into his throat. He's so proud of him and he thumbs the tears from Noah's cheek and licks them off his fingers.
“My beautiful boy,” Jolly whispers and he can see the pride in his eyes as he bobs his head. “Are you still okay down there?”
He nods as best he can, and Jolly looks towards his phone. Noah’s only got a few minutes left to go, and Jolly’s aware of his hand coming from behind his back to fumble to get the hair tie off. He immediately gets back in his previous position, humming around Jolly’s cock and moving his head faster. Jolly doesn’t even get a chance to warn him when he comes, but Noah doesn’t even blink, he just swallows it all and keeps sucking until Jolly has to give his hair a none too gentle tug.
The alarm sounds through the room loudly.
Noah pulls off, laughing breathlessly as he presses his face against Jolly’s knee. His face is a mess of spit, tears and come, and Jolly pets his fingers through his hair until he finally looks up at him.
“Looks like I won,” Noah murmurs. “Do I get to come?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
Narrowing his eyes at Jolly’s nonchalance while he pulls up his sweatpants, Noah runs his hands through the mess on his face before reaching down and wrapping his fingers around his cock. Jolly pulls him up so he's back on his knees and so he'll be able to watch. Noah strokes himself hard and fast, his gasps and pants echoing between them. Jolly wants to tease him about being nicer to himself, but he's too distracted by how good he looks. He cups Noah’s face in his hand, looking down between them and watching the blur of Noah’s fist.
"You're incredible, you're so fucking incredible. Are you gonna come for me, baby?"
Noah lets out a noise, high pitched and desperate and comes all over his fist practically on command. He'd never done that before and Jolly watches on in awe as he slumps forward half in Jolly's lap. He tips Noah’s head back so he can kiss him, soft and slow until they need to pull away to catch their breath.
“C’mon, let’s get dressed and go home,” Jolly says, grabbing some tissues and passing them off to Noah.
He helps him back into his clothes and they lock up for the night. By the time they get home and get into a shower, Noah’s tired and boneless and Jolly makes sure he eats something for a later dinner before he bundles him in comfy clothes and into their bed. Noah’s unresistant as Jolly wraps himself around him and pulls the blankets up over them.
author’s note: a special birthday treat for my beloved @darksigns-exe who wanted a little euclid. i hope you enjoy! happy birthday bestie have the best day 🩷✨
author’s note 2: thank you @concretejunglefm, @concretenoah, and @baddestomens for taking a peek when i was worrying ily guys!!
title from "emergence" by sleep token / dividers by enchanthings / header for once by me :)
You startle awake to a crashing noise from the direction of the kitchen and an empty bed.
You peer over at the clock on your bedside to see it’s still only quarter ‘til 8. It’s your birthday morning, and years with the boys have taught you that you likely have a delightful day ahead of you, planned meticulously by them. You’re all too eager to see where they’ve started, too impatient to wait in bed and pretend to be asleep like you’re sure they’d like for you to do.
You get out of bed carefully, pad down the hallway on your tippy toes so as not to give yourself away.
When you find yourself in the kitchen, leaning against the island watching them, they don’t notice you at first. They’re a little too wrapped up in each other, Nick’s arms drawn tightly around Noah’s middle, dishes strewn all about because they never can quite keep it together when you’re not around to keep them in line.
Noah is pressing a sloppy kiss to Nick’s cheek when from the corner of his eye, he spots you. His expression drops just slightly, for only a moment, before Nick turns his head to follow Noah’s gaze.
You know you’ve ruined the surprise, seeing breakfast and the mess before they had the chance to present it to you. You never get to see this part, though, and you couldn’t help your curiosity. It endears you, more than anything — you didn’t know they managed to make this much mess every time.
“Ruined the surprise, sorry,” you say, but they’re already separating from each other and making their way over to you and crowding into your space before you have any time to feel guilty.
“Happy birthday, honey,” Nick says first, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth and a warm, gentle hand just beneath the hem of your t-shirt. His t-shirt.
Noah parrots his sentiment, a kiss of his own pressed to the top of your head, before throwing Nicky under the bus. “We would have been back to you before you woke up, but Nicky burnt an omelette.”
You feel them fighting a little behind you — no matter how long, always on occasion still bickering teenagers. You leave them to it, turning on your heels to find what they have set up for you at the kitchen table.
Two happy birthday balloons and a vase of pretty, pink and purple flowers. You wonder for a moment who helped them pick them out — Nick’s mom or his sister. You always love what the boys pick, but this has the ladies written all over it.
There’s a big box from the bakery down the street, and when you lift the lid, it’s all of your favorite treats.
There’s a rectangular gift, daintily wrapped, with an envelope tucked into the ribbon. Your name is written in Noah’s messy scrawl.
“I thought we could go to the botanical gardens today, the weather is nice,” Nick says, sidling up behind you.
“Maybe the art museum after? Grab a late lunch?” Noah continues, carrying a suspiciously small plate of pancakes in from the kitchen. You wonder how many he burnt. Your cheeks warm, so endeared.
“And then we have to be back by 7:30, because there will be some people waiting to celebrate you, please try to act surprised.”
You don’t have a moment to shoot Nick a glare of fake outrage before the smoke detector starts to go. The second omelette, you suppose.
“Okay, how about this,” you say, grabbing the box of pastries and heading for the back door while Noah waves a tea towel at the alarm and Nick gets the skillet off the stove. “We can order in some breakfast, and go sit outside while we wait.”
You think about the wonderful day ahead of you as you sit yourself down in the sun, a boy on either side of you. The botanical gardens will be nice, a stroll through your favorite art exhibit, a late afternoon lunch at the café.
You’re sure you could be happy just like this — your head resting on Nick’s shoulder, Noah’s resting on yours, both of their hands warm on the bare skin of your thighs.
You’ll go and let yourself be pampered by them, though you’ve long ago come to find that every day with them is a treat, flanked by their adoration always.
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