“I’d rather destroy this friendship than pretend I don’t want you anymore.” with Noah and Folio
Prompt from this post // Still accepting!
Hello, yes! This was meant to be cute, and I think I accomplished that, save some internal Noah musings that aren't the cutest. I've never projected on Noah a day in my life, I have no idea what you're talking about.
Haphazardly proofread but written with love. I adore these two (thanks, @dodgersnotebook). No content warnings save perhaps references to mental health issues.
Noah knew that Folio wasn’t straight. Sure, he’d made moon eyes and giggled at a couple women during their time in the band, but he’d also bat his lashes at men — and there was the nonbinary merch employee that he’d scampered after an entire tour, all lost puppy desperate for affection. (Noah was fairly certain Folio had never gotten up the nerve to ask them on a date.)
So the concern wasn’t that Folio wouldn’t be interested because Noah was a guy. The worry was that it had always been obvious when Folio liked someone, and Noah had picked up zero signs that Folio was at all interested in him. None. Folio might have laughed really hard at some of his less clever jokes, but Noah noticed he did that with all of the band members. And Matt, and if Matt counted for something, did it really hold any weight at all?
The problem was that Noah was tired of pining. He was a grown man, and he was more than capable of standing on stage night after night in front of so many people that looking out into the crowd now almost made his eyes cross. He should have been able to tell a guy he’d known for years that he had a crush on him. The length of time he’d harbored the crush wasn’t important.
It would have been smart to prepare a speech beforehand. Noah tried to, he did, but everything he’d rehearsed in his head evaporated the second he decided to broach the subject. He was hanging out with Folio on the tour bus, Nicholas and Jolly having left to do something (he hadn’t paid that much attention, honestly), and it just felt like the moment.
Which meant Noah opened his mouth and words poured out, and every bit of beautiful, masterful word crafting he could harness for his music was painfully, blatantly absent from all of it.
“So, uh, I was thinking, right, and we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I wanted to at least say it, you know, because it’s getting kind of embarrassing, not that I’m not always a little embarrased, but—“
Folio glanced at Noah then, eyes wide and vaguely concerned, and every cell in Noah’s brain shut down. God, he was so fucking pretty. “What’s up?” he asked when awkward, stiff silence fell.
Great. Perfect. If his brain would just boot back up, if his operating system could stop lagging, if he could just talk like a normal fucking person. It wasn’t that difficult a task. Why was Noah making this so difficult? What was the worst thing that happened?
A breath. “I’d rather destroy this friendship than pretend I don’t want you anymore.” It came out all at once, Noah’s lisp thicker than it had been in years, a couple of the words bumping together for the haste with which they escaped.
It was obvious that Folio was processing, so Noah made a show of fidgeting with the camera he’d brought on tour. He had plenty of footage no one else would ever get to see, fragments of time between shows, on the road, after sets. They were all for him, little kernels of joy to remind him that he wasn’t alone and he was surrounded by love, even when his thoughts got loud and dark.
Folio’s hand on his knee made Noah jolt. When Noah glanced up, Folio’s face was flushed and his eyes were even wider than before, but he also had a shy, boyish smile on his lips. “Is this you telling me that you have a crush on me, Noah?” he asked, and there was something about the way the question was phrased that made Noah frown.
“Did you know?” Noah asked, a touch incredulous — and maybe a little frustrated at the thought that they could have avoided all of this.
The question, bordering on an accusation, earned a sheepish shrug from Folio. “I mean, I thought you might have a crush on me? But you’ve never really dated in all the time I’ve known you, and the only people you’ve dated have been women. So I thought maybe I was misreading somehow. Like you were sending signals that didn’t mean anything.”
Which made enough sense that Noah deflated instantly. “Oh.” Folio was right, Noah realized. All of the crushes he’d had over the years, even the embarrassing one on Oli Sykes that had almost ended in disaster, had never reached anyone’s ears but Nicholas’s, and that was because Nick was subjected to every single thought that popped into Noah’s head. He’d always been too lost in his own inner ramblings, trapped in his head, tangled with worries that spiraled down into nothingness; he’d never had the time or energy for dating.
But things had shifted in the past year or two. Noah had done the work enough that things were finally starting to click, and it felt like aspects of life that he’d been unable to reach before were suddenly within his grasp. One of those had been romance (and sex, honestly, but he wasn’t going to admit to Folio in this moment that it’d been a hot minute since he’d gotten laid), and he realized that Folio hadn’t left his thoughts since that particular realization had registered.
Except. Wait. “You thought I was straight?” Noah clarified, as if that mattered at all in the grand scheme of things. Maybe it was a little embarrassing, perhaps he was a tad baffled. Certainly the public persona he presented didn’t give enough away for most people to confidently describe his sexuality in any particular way, but he’d assumed his friends would know.
Folio blinked. “Have you seen the way you dress?” was all he offered, as if that explained everything, and then he shook his head. “We’re not having that conversation right now. You just told me you liked me. Can we focus on that?”
Noah almost wished they wouldn’t. He squirmed a bit in his seat, nodded, realized Folio still had a hand on his knee. The weight and warmth was nice. He sat his camera aside, shoved his hair back out of his face, and frowned out at nothing because it was easier than looking at Folio. At least Folio seemed like the type to let someone down gently. He wasn’t going to take a rock to Noah’s still-beating heart.
But no rejection came. Instead, Folio leaned in, and there was suddenly a chin resting on Noah’s shoulder. Huh. “I like you too.” And once again, every train of thought Noah was conducting (the phrasing, frankly, gave him more agency than he truly possessed when it came to his own thoughts) shut down. The staff went on protest without warning, vacated the premises, left Noah staring at Folio with no lights on at all.
It must have made him look stupid, because Folio giggled and grinned up at Noah. “What? Is it that surprising? You’re handsome and kind and funny sometimes.” Why his friends refused to admit that Noah was hilarious was beyond him. It seemed like a bit that no one had bothered to explain to him.
Noah inched his hand closer to Folio’s — when Folio didn’t move, Noah took Folio’s hand and twined their fingers together loosely. Despite how much bigger Noah’s hand was, the smoother palm, the longer and paler digits, they fit together nicely. It looked right, and it was also easier to admire the sight than look Folio in the eyes when he asked, “So can I take you on a date?”
Another giggle, and this time Noah could hear fondness dripping from the notes. “Yeah, you can take me on a date. As long as I don’t have to dress up,” Folio added, which sounded like a fair enough condition to Noah.
In a bold move, Noah pressed a kiss to Folio’s cheek, and then he pulled back and made a face. “That was a lot easier than I expected it to be.” The admission came out twisted with resentment.
28. “I want to have my way with you.” from the Smut Dialogue Prompts that make me feral with Chris and Will :)
Prompt from this post // Not accepting
So, this is trans woman!Chris, I just don't state it in the fic because it's literally not relevant to anything that happens. I only say it here because it's a darling little headcanon of mine. Every band guy deserves to have their gender trans'ed. Coming for trans man!Ryan and his phallo dick soon.
I had so much fun with this, and I definitely want to revisit these two in the future. This might end up a formal fic that I post on AO3, but it's just . . . this for now. Writing this also made me realize that I'm only okay with het ships if the guy is down bad and pathetic.
Barely proofread, mostly me vibing. References to Chris being a mean domme, oral sex (male receiving), and a bit of overstim, but that's about it as far as content warnings. Enjoy?
(Divider by @/saradika-graphics.)
Touring with Motionless In White had been an entire experience. As a musician, Will was endlessly, impossibly grateful. As a man, though? As a guy? He was fucking suffering.
Sure, Will had a longstanding crush on Chris. Who didn’t? She was bold and brash, and she stomped around on stage like she was fiending to kick someone’s teeth in — and she sure as shit had the boots to do it with. She was tall, goth, and tattooed, so far out of Will’s league that it was laughable. Hell, she might have been out of everyone’s league.
But that was the shallow shit. Hot girl big and scary. He could handle that. Will frothed at the mouth for countless musicians; it was a little awkward the first time Chris was dolled up for a performance and Will stammered his way through the longest two minutes of his life, but it was manageable. Especially when he finally managed to get her to laugh.
No, the problem was that Chris was a sweetheart. Worse, she was a dork. She had stupid banter and made dad jokes, and Will could see her lip piercing scars when she smiled, and she completely demolished him in every video game they played together.
Will realized he’d come down with a tour crush in a big way when Chris invited him over to the Motionless tour bus for some gaming, just the two of them, and he’d clambered onto the bus to find her in a giant, baggy t-shirt that was probably Ryan’s or Justin’s for how it swallowed her, and sweatpants. No makeup, hair piled on top of her head, just existing.
And he still felt like his heart might give out.
Needless to say, Chris had to carry them for every single round of COD they played. She didn’t seem to mind, and she also didn’t comment on the fact that Will was oddly quiet. Eventually, though, she dropped them out of the lobby and sat her controller on the table.
“So,” Chris started, and Will wondered if he was about to get his band kicked off of the tour. That’d be his luck, really. Go so starry-eyed and stupid that his band lost what was one of the biggest opportunities they’d ever had.
Will wiggled around and sat his controller next to hers, stealing a nervous glance. “So,” he echoed, dreading what was about to come next. How would he break it to the guys? How pissed would they be? Would he need to find a new band after this? How—
But Chris tilted her head and smiled. “Tour crushes are dangerous, you know,” she commented, and Will wondered if she could hear the way his heart’s slapdash thudding stuttered.
How the fuck was Will supposed to respond to that? He wasn’t even sure if he could form a coherent sentence. All he could offer was some vague noise, swallowing and licking his lips. He had no idea where she was going with this, unless she had some weird, twisted fetish for ruining people’s lives. That could explain the glint in her eyes.
There wasn’t much distance between the two of them to begin with; they’d sort of bumped knees the entire time they’d gamed, and now Chris didn’t have to reach far to get her hand on Will’s thigh. It settled somewhere mid-thigh, and Will wondered how quickly blood could travel to someone’s dick. He might have set a new record.
“You like me, right? That’s what this is?” Chris clarified, and something told him that Chris didn’t have any real doubt; she just wanted to hear Will say the words out loud.
Will shrugged awkwardly, a big bounce of his shoulders, and wondered where in the hell he was supposed to put his hands. “I mean, yeah, but you’re Chris Motionless. Why wouldn’t I like you? But it’s just— It’s just a tour crush.” It felt important that neither of them lost sight of that.
Once Will didn’t spend every day with this beautiful, silly woman, he wouldn’t keep thinking about her. He wouldn’t go doe-eyed when she laughed, wouldn’t shiver when she brushed by him, wouldn’t have to take care of things in the tour bus bathroom or as quietly as possible in his bunk. It was a proximity thing, surely.
Chris scoffed. “Everyone acts like being me is a big deal. It doesn’t feel like a big deal. But, Will, I have a confession for you.” She slid her hand up an inch or two, leaned in enough that her nose brushed Will’s cheek. Her voice lowered a little, got a little bass to it. “I think I like you too. But I do know something for certain,” she added.
Oh. How was Will supposed to say anything to that? He wanted to just whimper and melt into the couch. If he could find words, he was worried he’d just be begging for her to kiss him. Or touch him more. He wouldn’t even ask for both. He managed an inquisitive noise, sitting still like he was worried about startling her and ruining the moment.
“Cat got your tongue, pretty boy? I haven’t even kissed you yet.” Yet. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, and I want to play.” Chris hummed, gave Will’s thigh a soft squeeze. “That’s not quite right. I want to have my way with you,” she murmured against Will’s ear.
Will would have given Chris anything she had asked for in that moment. His eyes fluttered as he forced himself to take a breath, and he turned his head — she pulled back just enough for them to end up eye to eye, noses bumping. “On the tour bus?” was what he finally managed, which was more than a little misleading.
Chris could have him anywhere she wanted.
The question did made Chris pause. “You’re right. I can’t exactly hurt you until you cry on the couch, can I?” She leaned in and, without warning, kissed Will. Everything went silent in his head, and all he could do was kiss her back. He leaned his whole body into it, one hand hovering over her cheek but not touching, and gasped when she pulled away.
“You could,” Will croaked once he could recall the last thing she’d said.
Will’s enthusiasm earned a soft laugh but, notably, no agreement. Bummer. “We’ll save the main event for a hotel, yeah?” Before any sort of disappointed comment or sound could form on Will’s tongue, Chris was clambering onto his lap, straddling his waist, the movement a little awkward for how long her limbs were.
How in the hell was Will supposed to be disappointed when he had Chris in his lap? His hands went to her hips — or around where they should have been, bunching the fabric of her shirt up in his grasp as he tried to paw at her sides.
Chris shook her head. “Just take it off me,” she instructed, holding her arms up for Will to peel it off of her and drop it aside. And wasn’t she fucking stunning? No bra, sweats riding down enough to give a glimpse of panties, and so much bared, tattooed skin.
Will wondered how long it would take to trace every line and shape with his tongue. His hands went to her waist, and he gave a squeeze just to appreciate the bit of give there. God. “You’re so fucking pretty,” he blurted, unable to look away from her chest. He was a tits man, okay?
They were cute tits, too. Perky, soft little mounds that he knew wouldn’t fill his hands but would be just enough to knead a bit. And her nipples were already hard, snagging his attention completely.
Fingers twined through Will’s curls, though Chris didn’t grasp his hair yet, just caressed it. “You’re pretty too,” she hummed. “And you look like you might explode if you don’t get to touch my tits. Go for it.” She sounded amused, but, honestly, Will would have been even more into it if she made fun of him for it.
Not that he could think about much once he had her left breast in his hand, giving a squeeze or two before his fingers danced toward the peak of her nipple. His mouth latched onto her other tit, all tongue and teeth across the small swell before he latched on to the bud. A tug, a gentle bite — that grew firmer when Chris moaned and pulled on his hair.
“Mm.” Chris arched up against Will, pressed her chest closer to him. “Don’t worry about hurting me. You can—” She hissed at a particularly firm bite to her nipple, the sound drawing out to a keen when he pulled on it without releasing it from his teeth. “Yeah, like that,” she laughed breathlessly when her nipple slipped free.
Will let her pull him back in for a kiss, hands now wandering to her ass; she sat up on her knees a bit to let him grab two handfuls, squeeze tightly. “What do you—” His brain stuttered as Chris fisted his curls now, pulled his head back far enough to strain his neck. “—want?” he managed, voice barely a whisper.
The way Chris laughed sent goosebumps blossoming up Will’s arms. It was sharp, a little mean, a bit biting; it sounded like the kind of amusement that came from a place of elevation. She was definitely laughing down at him, and it made Will even harder than he already was.
And then there was the trail of fingertips down Will’s throat, still held captive by Chris’s grip on his hair. She rocked her hips down a little then lifted back up, grinned wide and hungry where he could see her expression fully. “What I want is to take you apart, lay out all your pieces, and play until I’m satisfied.
“But, like you said, we’re on the tour bus. So I’m going to get your dick in my mouth, and we’ll raincheck the torture.” Though the way she talked about the torture had Will salivating for it.
It was only when Chris was actually on her knees in front of him that Will realized what she’d said. Oh fuck. “Listen,” he started, lifting his hips when she pat one; as she slid down his pants and boxers, his words died in his mouth. Well, no time to give the I promise I know what to do with it disclaimer.
Except Chris looked at Will’s cock, grasped loosely in her hand, like she was captivated. He knew he wasn’t quite average, fell a bit short, and most of his partners didn’t mind, but he always got nervous the first time he hooked up with someone. It seemed like he had no need now; Chris thumbed at the head, black nail polish contrasting sharply with the flushed and leaking tip, and hummed with audible delight.
Chris bat her lashes up at him — not as drastic without whatever makeup trick she did for performances, but still alluring — and looked amused in that wicked way of hers as she flicked her tongue over the head. “You can talk,” she informed him, tone making it clear she didn’t think he would be able to.
He did talk, technically. It was a steady stream of fuck, shit, god, fuck, Chris, holy shit, but he did manage words. They were even mostly-coherent. Will ended up melting into the couch, fingers twisting in Chris’s hair to clutch desperately, as she swallowed him down with ease. She kept taking his dick completely in her mouth, the ridge on the roof of her mouth sliding against it as she nuzzled her nose against skin, and Will thought he might lose whatever sanity he had left.
There was no consideration for that, though. Chris slurped and bobbed her head, kneading his inner thigh with one hand as he moaned pathetically. Both hands ended up on his legs, fingers curling to dig nails into flesh, and Will wailed, fucked up into her mouth, and she just laughed around his cock.
Something about the vibration, combined with the sound itself, had Will dangerously close to unraveling. God, Chris was going to think he was a fucking loser. He kind of was, compared to her, wasn’t he? He wondered if she’d call him that — or worse — and managed to get out, “I think I’m gonna fucking cum.”
Chris kept her same unrelenting pace, not letting up even as Will growled and came with several sharp jerks of his hips. She sucked every drop from him and didn’t stop when he whimpered, held him down when he writhed, only pulled back when he gasped a quiet, quivering please. (He was a little disappointed when she did.)
“Holy shit,” Will gasped when he could finally speak again. He sagged back against the couch, arms splayed and dick still out, as his chest heaved and he stared down at Chris.
To say Chris looked pleased was an understatement. She preened as she helped Will dress again, licking her lips and clambering back into his lap. “I knew you’d make pretty noises,” she told him, grasping his jaw in one hand to hold him in place as she kissed him with so much tongue that he could taste himself.
It seemed like Chris was intent on devouring Will — until the tour bus door opened and someone stomped up the stairs.
“Dude,” a somewhat-familiar voice groaned. “Chris. If Ryan and Vin can’t fuck on the couch, you can’t either.” Oh. Justin.
Will’s face was so hot he felt like he might spontaneously combust, opening his eyes to see Justin towering over them, hands on his hips. He looked exasperated (and maybe a little amused as Will tried to stutter an explanation that came out completely incoherent), arching his eyebrows at Chris when she turned to look at him.
There wasn’t a hint of apology to Chris’s words. “Rick was supposed to text me before you guys came back.” Will wasn’t sure if that was an explanation or an accusation, but he did know that he would have preferred Chris out of his lap before her entire band saw them like this.
Some sort of deity was looking out for him, because Chris plopped on the couch next to Will just as Vinny’s voice carried onto the bus, door opening again. “Rick did text, and you didn’t reply,” Justin told her, glancing at Will and grinning briefly. Yeah, Will was getting roasted. Great.
As Will groaned and covered his face with both hands, Chris checked her phone. “Oh. He did. I guess it was when I was—”
Rib cage that's one word right???, stagnate, wonder with Will and Noah or Noah and Nicholas. Jester's choice!
From this post // Not accepting!
Surprise! Jester went with Nicholas/Noah/Will instead!
This got, as do most prompts for you, out of hand (it's about 2.8k words). I haven't thoroughly proofread it yet, but I might turn it into a proper fanfic after I have. (I also need to reread the first entry to make sure I don't have continuity errors, oops.) For now, take the barely-edited version, newly finished and eager to see the light of day.
Content warnings because Noah almost has a meltdown (in public; I also mean an autistic meltdown, to be clear) and Will gets real self-deprecating. There's a lot of cute stuff, but it's also pretty sad at some points too.
This whole 'verse with autistic!Noah is sort of me musing about loving fellow neurodivergent people. It's beautiful and wonderful, and it also presents its own unique challenges sometimes. In the end, that love is more than worth learning and adapting, and I think that's what should be honored and emphasized. Will just gets lost in the whump.
Divider by @/saradika-graphics.
Will was still surprised that Nicholas had invited him along to his tattoo convention. He knew that Noah usually went with him to these events, but he had assumed it was something that was always just the two of them. (Nicholas had given the sweetest, shyest smile when he’d pointed out that they were dating Will now too, and they both wanted to spend time with him.)
So Will had found a cat sitter he could trust, given said felines approximately six hundred kisses, and then haphazardly shoved clothes and hygiene items in his small suitcase the morning of their flight. It was only a three-day excursion, so he’d probably packed too much, but he always grabbed things with his heart rather than following a list.
The airport had been quiet for the time of day it was, the only upside to a three AM flight. Noah worked on a Rubiks cube the entire time, earbuds in to help with the ambient sound of flights taking off and landing; Nicholas sketched to pass the time, chatting idly with Will; and Will stopped at not one, not two, but three places for food while they waited. What could he say? He was a sucker for overpriced airport food. It just hit differently.
By the time they made it to the hotel, Will was ready to crash, but they couldn’t even check in yet, so Nicholas had gently encouraged some sightseeing that involved dragging their suitcases along with them. Noah had some cheap, throwaway camera that he took countless pictures with, nose scrunching with concentration for each shot. Will tried to ignore how many photos Noah took of him for fear of turning beet red.
Once they’d finally unloaded their things in the hotel room — one king-sized bed, Will noticed, which sparked some unhelpful thoughts when it came to being on his best behavior — Nicholas announced they were meeting up with some of Nicholas’s tattooing friends for dinner.
It was a fun time, even if Noah was quiet for most of it, and Will ate far too much food. He fell into a food coma the second they got to the hotel, thoughts of freak-nasty sex forgotten, and woke up about three AM to find Noah gaming on his Switch. As Nicholas slept, Noah laid back against Will’s chest; Will wrapped his arms loosely around Noah’s waist, chin hooked over his shoulder, and mumbled commentary about Silksong as Noah tried and failed a particularly tricky level, and tried again.
(There was something cute about Noah swearing up a storm at a barely-audible volume. He got really creative with his insults, and Will had to muffle several laughs against Noah’s shoulder.)
The convention was huge. It was in some large, domed building with concrete walls and floors that bounced sound back at them. Noah was clearly on edge the second they got there, earbuds in before they’d even walked through the doors, and he lingered close to Nicholas until the latter had finished his rounds of greetings and they all made their way to Nicholas’s station.
As Nicholas explained how the flash tattoos process worked, Noah chewed on his nails — painted in hopes of deterring that exact thing, apparently, which explained why Noah’s polish was always chipped when Will saw it. Will kept looking around, interest drawn one way and then the other, but his gaze kept returning to Noah and Nicholas.
The interactions between the two were still so intimate to Will. He felt less like he was intruding now, finally, after weeks of dating them both, so it was more fondness than anything that swelled in his ribcage. They had such a solid, unwavering connection that spoke volumes of the trust and understanding between them — and Will got to be a part of that, even if he still fumbled and found himself lost at times.
Nicholas insisted on good luck kisses from both of his boyfriends, one to Noah’s cheek and the other to Will’s lips, before he shooed them off with accusations of potential distractions. Will had no problem wandering, offering Noah a hand to hold as they traversed the crowd. Nicholas had said that Noah had gotten better at handling a bunch of people, but Will could tell that the noise at least was making Noah’s skin crawl.
It was easy for Will to strike up conversations with various artists — he never failed to make friends, after all, and these newly made acquaintances had openings for flash tattoos. Will sat down for one when the crowd in the building seemed to stagnate, the bustle near the table settling enough for Noah’s repeated twitching to stop for a bit.
By the time the woman had finished the piece and Will paid (far too much for the small little work of art, though he’d still consider it worth it), Noah looked ready for a walk. “Do you want to go outside?” Will asked, face twisting a little as he struggled to remember if that helped. Yeah, he was pretty sure it did.
But Noah shook his head. “If I leave, I won’t come back in,” he explained, taking Will’s hand without prompting this time. He clutched a little too hard to be comfortable, but Will didn’t complain, just gave a brief squeeze back and tugged him off on another adventure.
The next artist who enticed Will into a flash piece had a small crowd gathered, but Will didn’t really think about it as he squinted at the sheets he could choose art from. Then he realized Noah was gone, and he glanced around to find his boyfriend missing from the area completely. Considering how tall Noah was, the fact that he wasn’t visible sparked momentary panic.
“Sorry,” Will blurted, turning back to the artist. “My boyfriend disappeared. I have to go find him or my other boyfriend’s gonna give me that disappointed little frown of his.” And then he zoomed off, calling to Noah despite knowing his voice would get lost among the crowd with the earbuds Noah wore.
Will found Noah a few minutes later, standing off to the side and almost pressed up flat against a wall. He was chewing on the nails of one hand, the fingers of the other repeatedly twitching and spasming; his gaze was distant and hazy, staring off into nothing but looking in the general direction of the slightly sticky floor, and it took a couple of tries for Will to get his attention with words and waves alone, knowing better than to touch.
Finally, as Will started to wonder if Noah had dissociated completely, Noah blinked a few times and flicked his eyes to settle at Will’s nose. He found Noah tended to look there more than any other feature on Will’s face, and Noah had explained (a bit shyly) that it was because he had such a cute one that he liked settling his gaze there.
It had been an oddly intimate, bizarrely sweet moment when Will realized that Noah had stopped making eye contact as frequently — and that it was actually a good thing, because it meant Noah was no longer forcing himself to do something that he explained made his skin crawl and his palms itch.
“Hey, Noah,” Will started, trying to speak loud enough for Noah to hear. “Do you need to go?” He couldn’t imagine Noah leaving without Nicholas, but he also didn’t think his boyfriend could handle being in the building any longer. Noah's free hand was spasming now, a sure sign that he wanted to shake it out repeatedly and aggressively but was suppressing the urge, and his breaths were short, ragged things despite his blank expression.
Noah nodded jerkily, shook out both of his hands at his side for a brief moment, and then glanced around for the exit. Something seemed to click as they walked, though, Will leading away to split the crowd of bodies: he tugged on Will’s hand and offered a simple, “Nick,” when Will glanced back to check on him.
Oh, yeah. Nicholas. The person who knew Noah best, the person who could talk Noah through a breakdown, the person who had seen Noah at his lowest and knew what to do. Fuck. The problem was that a quick glance told Will they were on the opposite side of the convention space — and the exit was so fucking close now.
So Will, feeling like an absolute dick, shook his head. “We’re too far away. I’ll call him when we get outside. Is that cool?” He felt his stomach clench at the thought of railroading Noah into something he wasn’t comfortable with, but he couldn’t imagine making it to Nicholas without more complications.
Luckily, Noah seemed to like the idea. He nodded and took Will’s hand, gripped it far too tightly; the second they were outside, he released Will’s hand and started shaking both of his own out. He paced back and forth across a three or four foot space, inhales and exhales growing quicker and shallower, until Will said his name a few times and finally got his attention.
“I’m gonna call Nick, okay? Can you breathe for me?” Will knew that Nicholas would guide Noah through breaths sometimes, would demonstrate slow and relaxed breathing, but Will himself was getting closer to hyperventilating as Noah unraveled in front of him, so he knew it’d be useless. He was useless.
But the mention of Nicholas prompted Noah to stop walking back and forth. He rocked instead, side to side, and seemed to be doing his best to breathe calmly — though he wasn’t really nailing it. Or succeeding at all, actually. Shit. Will’s phone was ringing but Nicholas hadn’t answered yet, and he started up an internal chant of answer please, answer please, answer please that grew louder in his head as time passed.
Finally, Nicholas’s voice, a little staticky from the shitty service inside the convention building. “Hey, Will. What’s up?” he asked, clearly unconcerned by the call. He even sounded half-distracted, like he was doing something else at the same time, and Will wondered what he’d interrupted.
Not that it mattered. Noah was more important than anything Nicholas could have been engaged in, and Will knew that Nicholas would agree. “Noah’s panicking. Too many people, I think. He’s doing that thing where he flaps his hands and rocks. I know you usually take him somewhere private, and I got him outside, but there’s nowhere really private and—”
Will wondered if it was the rising panic in his own voice that led Nicholas to interrupt him, his own tone level and patient. “It sounds like Noah’s about to have a meltdown. Can you put me on speaker, please?” he requested, as if Will would deny him anything under normal circumstances.
It took Will three tries to hit the speaker button with how shaky his hand was. “Okay. Noah should be able to hear you. Noah, maybe take an earbud out? If that’s not too much?” He was worried it wouldn’t be manageable, but he also doubted Noah would catch everything Nicholas was saying if he didn’t.
Thankfully, Noah just gave a jerky nod and put one of the earbuds back in its case. He clicked his tongue a few times, hands making that same shaking-out motion for a moment.
“Hey, Noah,” Nicholas started, and Will marveled at how composed he sounded. “It sounds like you’re about to have a meltdown — is that right?”
Noah opened his mouth, paused, shut it again. He tapped his mouth with two fingers and shook his head hard, frowning at the phone despite the fact that Nicholas couldn’t see what he was doing.
When it finally clicked, a few seconds later, what Noah meant, Will’s face heated with embarrassment. Of course the gesture had been meant for him; he was the one who was standing in front of Noah. “I don’t think he can talk,” Will said, a bit too loudly, and bit his bottom lip. He wasn’t Nicholas. He doubted he’d be able to translate what Noah meant like the other man could.
“That’s okay. You don’t need to talk, Noah. All I need you to do is close your eyes and breathe for me. Can you do that? Will, tell me when he’s closed his eyes.” It took Noah a moment, but he eventually scrunched his eyes shut, and Will relayed that. “Good. Noah, I’m going to count breaths for you. You remember how to do box breathing, right?” he asked.
Will wasn’t quite sure what Nicholas was talking about, but it seemed like Noah did. “He nodded.” It felt awful, not being able to do anything but narrate what was happening. He wanted to help, not just watch Nicholas do something from afar that Will couldn’t even comprehend managing in person.
As Nicholas repeatedly counted to four, steady and rhythmic, Noah breathed in time with the numbers; it took several minutes, but eventually his chest was rising and falling at a more manageable rate. He opened his mouth, eyes still shut, and then shook his head.
“He’s breathing better,” Will explained, adjusting his grip on the phone. He realized he’d synchronized his own inhales and exhales with Noah’s, following along without really knowing what they were doing, and it seemed it had helped him, too. “I don’t think he can say anything yet, though.” That part wasn’t too unfamiliar: sometimes Noah would be drained at the end of a day and go silent for stretches of time, and Will found it had been easy to adjust to.
Will could hear the smile in Nicholas’s voice, even over the phone. “Good. I’m proud of you, Noah. It sounds like you got close to a meltdown.” A pause. “Thank you, Will. That could have been a lot worse.” Worse? “You did exactly what you needed to,” he added, sincerity warming his words.
It was hard to look at Noah as Will scuffed his shoe against the concrete, glancing away. “I don’t know how it could have been worse,” Will argued, not wanting to touch the idea that he’d helped. It sure hadn’t felt that way.
Noah tensed in Will’s peripheral, hand lifting to his mouth. Will glanced up to see him chewing on his nails, and he offered his free hand for Noah to take instead. There was a brief pause, and then Noah reached out, twined their fingers together rather than continuing to bite at his fingertips.
“Meltdowns are rough, Will. If he gets too worked up, Noah hits himself and screams. It’s— It’s a lot, so I’m glad it didn’t happen in public,” Nicholas explained, and there was that understanding again, that softness that suggested Nicholas would have repeated himself endlessly if he needed to.
Oh. Will wasn’t sure he could have handled that. How did Nicholas handle that? “I’m glad we avoided it,” Will said, giving Noah’s hand a squeeze. He did his best not to follow that frightening suggestion to its concerning end, to let the thought die where it had bloomed. He mostly managed it.
Nicholas’s voice pulled him away from it completely. “I’m gonna clean up my booth, and then we can head back early. We’ll order takeout and watch something on TV, okay? Does that sound good?” Packing up that early in the afternoon would mean a lot of lost money, missed tattoos, abandoned connections — but of course Nicholas would offer. He would have done anything for Noah.
So Will and Noah waited outside, hands entwined but Noah standing off at just enough of a distance for the angle of Will’s wrist to feel awkward. Will yammered once he clarified that Noah was okay with it, ranting about his new tattoo and the artist who had done it, until Nicholas appeared, bag thrown over his shoulder and a bright, warm smile on his lips.
Will got a kiss on the lips, and Nicholas offered Noah his hand; once Noah had taken it with his free one, Nicholas spoke, voice soft and gaze softer. “I’m proud of you,” he told Noah, words wrapped in a sort of affection that felt so impossibly intimate. And then he glanced at Will, small smile unwavering. “I’m proud of you too.”
It was hard not to recoil under the sentiment, but Will forced a grin instead. He nodded, focused on making his curls bounce because he knew it looked silly, and stole another kiss from Nicholas. “I’m just looking forward to takeout. You’re buying, right? ‘Cause I just blew money on a tattoo, and—”
As he began to list off the reasons Nicholas was the best person to buy dinner, Will caught the faint sound of Noah’s laughter. It made him pause, and then he flashed Noah a dimpled grin. “So you agree, right?” he clarified, batting his lashes at Nicholas when Noah nodded. “See? C’mon, Nick. Be our sugar daddy for the night,” he cooed.
Nicholas made a face — or tried to, a grin winning out instead. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he murmured. “I’ll buy us dinner.” The agreement sounded playfully reluctant, but a win was a win.
And if Will kept a little bit of space the rest of the evening, no one said anything.
Since u did such a great job with the last one, how abt “Show me how much you need me.” with Noah and Dolio again???
From this post (still accepting)!!
So, uh, this entry follows the last fill (you can find it here), but the tone's a lot different. Noah's more serious than Folio, I think, though he can be a silly, goofy guy too. He's not this time. He's horny.
I wasn't going to write this until I had some other WIPs done, but then Noah started narrating this while I showered and, well. It just happened. It's got some anal fingering, sex toys, masturbation, exhibitionism/voyeurism (kind of?), and then implied anal sex (not protected this time). Noah gets into a bit of dirty talk. So, clearly, MDNI.
It's written very casually, so the tone and writing aren't the most technically impressive, but Noah wanted to write it this way. I also proofread it two (2) times before posting. I did keep it under 1k words this time, though!! Anyways, uh. Enjoy? (Divider by @/saradika-graphics.)
Noah was aware that he was being more than a little mean, perhaps even edging on cruel. It wasn’t his fault, however, that Folio made it all so enjoyable. The drummer in question was currently face-down in a pillow in an attempt to muffle his pathetic little moans and whimpers, ass in the air as he fucked himself with a toy. The dildo in question was one Noah had secured through slightly shady means at their last tour stop, something not quite the same size as his own dick but enough that Folio would feel it.
They’d gotten to their room and Folio had once more been all but begging for Noah to touch him, to taste Noah, for Noah to fill him up. It didn’t quite make sense why Folio had gotten even needier after the hook-ups started — Noah had helped him out with the impression that it’d alleviate his chronic horniness, not exacerbate it — but Noah, oddly, found that he wasn’t complaining.
Folio had all but writhed against Noah while they made out, hips grinding and Folio’s hands grasping desperately. It took so little to work him up, and soon Noah was pulling away. He paused to admire how flushed Folio was, how swollen his lips were, how wide-eyed he was as he stared up at Noah. And then Noah smirked, slow and slightly lopsided, and he watched in real time as Folio registered that he was about to suffer. This time, though, there’d be a pay-off.
Finding the dildo had taken a moment of digging — Noah had stuffed it down deep enough in his bag that no one would accidentally find it if they’d glanced inside — but then he was offering the package to Folio, feeling more than a little smug about the dawning realization. “Show me how much you need me.”
Noah had already opened the package and cleaned the toy as best he could given the circumstances, so all Folio had to do was yank it out. He chewed his lip and frowned at it thoughtfully, almost hesitantly, as Noah held out the lube, waiting patiently. Then Folio had taken the offered bottle, taken a breath, and sat both on the bed.
Never one to be completely unkind, Noah helped Folio undress and even allowed the smaller man to steal brief kisses, kisses Noah refused to let spiral or linger too long. Then Folio clambered on the mattress, slicked his fingers, and took his current position, upper half dropped to the mattress but his lower half propped up on his knees.
It took a bit of experimenting with the angle of his hips — Folio was still new to a lot of this, which Noah found more than a little thrilling — and then Folio was fingering himself open with far too much lube. The begging started two fingers in. “C’mon, Noah,” he mumbled, head turned so Noah could hear him. “Your fingers are longer than mine. You can get a better angle.”
It wasn’t quite a question, and it was far from polite, so Noah just tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. “It looks like you’re doing a good enough job from here,” he reasoned, and then he added on, “But maybe if you do a good enough job with that toy, I’ll fuck you.” Which was the first time he even suggested that Folio might be getting himself off, though Noah was already strongly inclined toward fucking him through the mattress. Not that Folio needed to know that.
Folio whined and scrunched his eyes shut, pulling his fingers out and grabbing the toy. Another excessive amount of lube to slick it and then he was trying to work it inside himself. He hadn’t stretched himself quite enough and struggled for a moment, but the noise he made as it slid inside had Noah undoing his own pants. “Noah,” he gasped, stilling to adjust once it was buried as close to the base as he could manage in his current position.
Noah pulled his dick out, stroked himself slowly as he watched Folio start up slow, shallow thrusts. “How does it feel?” he asked, licking his lips and staring at Folio’s slightly trembling hand fucking the dildo into himself.
“Good,” Folio admitted, almost shyly. “But I wish it was you.” He was always so honest in moments like this, and the things he said almost felt like something more, but Folio seemed oblivious to the weight of the words and Noah was more than content with leaving it unaddressed for now. Folio pressed his face into the pillow and moaned loudly, body shuddering and back arching a little.
It didn’t take long until Folio was fucking himself in earnest, settling into a rhythm that had his dick visibly leaking even from where Noah was standing. The sight drew Noah in closer and closer, until he was kneeing up on the bed behind Folio and smoothing his free hand up Folio’s spine. He saw him shiver, goosebumps blossoming, and smiled to himself. “Do you want me to fuck you now?” he asked, already knowing Folio’s answer.
Folio’s response came in the form of jerky nods against the pillow, a rock of his hips. He mumbled something too muffled for Noah to catch, but then he turned his head and peeked back at Noah. “‘m already close,” he admitted, pulling the toy out and gasping loudly when it popped free.
Noah laughed softly. “I know. You’ll just have to keep it together until I can get off too, I guess,” he mused, grabbing himself by the base and teasing Folio’s entrance with the head of his cock. “Do you think you can do that for me?” As if Folio had a choice.
I also forgot last time that @sable-fable wanted me to tag them in Bad Omens things I posted, oops. I don't usually tag my tag list in prompt fills, but I figured I'd tag them in this. (Enoch, if you'd prefer I didn't, just let me know.)
Saving them a seat or spot next to you with beloveds trans woman!chris and will
From this post // Still accepting!
I had so much fun with this. I still don't know if Chris is being a little mean with this, or if she's just waiting to see if Will can actually ask her out. Possibly both. It's Chris. The meanest sweetheart you'll ever meet if you're a handsome man. Ladies and nonbinary folks get the sweetheart part exclusively. Men deserve to suffer a little. It's hot.
I love the idea that everyone is giving Will hell, so I'm absolutely running with it. I can't include a ton of banter with the Lorna Shore boys because I don't know them very well, but I did watch a joint interview with Austin and Will, so I can kinda bullshit that.
The urge to make this a whole universe is kind of a problem. I also need Chris dressing Will up all cute and pretty. Anyways. Not proofread extensively (I'm trying to do just casual, easy writing), but I hope you enjoy anyways!
Content warnings for food/eating (Chris's veganism is briefly discussed), mentions of weed, some vague sexual references. I think that's it. It's mostly cute.
Divider by @/saradika-graphics.
It made sense that the lead singers would sit next to each other for press shit, right? Will kept telling himself that was what was going on as he ended up sitting next to Chris for one interview after another. (He also had to ignore the eyebrow waggles that Vinny shot his way and maybe even a grin or two from Justin that seemed far too amused. They weren’t helping, and that wasn’t even accounting for the ribbing from his own bandmates.)
Most of the time, Chris was well-behaved during interviews. She chatted, laughed, tucked her hair behind her ear in that endearing little way of hers. She’d look to Will when it was his turn to answer and nearly derail his thoughts completely, but she mostly kept her hands to herself. Sure, their legs would bump a lot, but it was casual. It didn’t mean anything.
And if Will almost popped a boner on a livestream when Chris squeezed his knee, no, he didn’t.
There was a difference between interviews and this, though. Some random Asian restaurant at four AM for "breakfast," all three bands on tour piled around various tables — most of them were half-awake, but Will still struggled to be quiet. Maybe that was why Chris had made sure Will ended up next to her, calling him over with a crooked finger and patting the empty seat next to her.
“I saved you a spot,” Chris told Will with a smile, and it didn’t seem devious for once. She looked pleased when he sat next to her, and she bumped their feet under the table but otherwise refrained from any cheeky touches.
Chris didn't actually eat much at this particular place, but she still found something to graze over as she discussed with Justin why COD camping was a total guy move. Will couldn’t follow much of the evidence or reasoning, too busy shoveling down food or just staring at her mindlessly, but he knew he liked how she had to bite back her laughter in honor of the small hours of the morning they currently existed in.
As they waited for their bill, Chris dropped her head on Will’s shoulder, and she didn’t react as his entire body tensed up. “I think you ate enough that you should cover the whole thing,” she joked. Even in some ratty sweats and a tank-top that had seen better days, she was still more than captivating as she bat her lashes up at him.
For a single, stupid second, Will almost offered to. Then his face turned bright red and he managed, “Actually, I think I heard Austin say he wanted to pay tonight. His treat.”
Austin’s response was instant. “Oh, fuck off.” He just rolled his eyes as Will snickered far too loudly, making eye contact and raising his eyebrows.
Oh. Wait. Beautiful woman on his shoulder. Beautiful woman he was possibly giving whiplash to with how hard his shoulders were shaking with laughter. Chris didn’t look mad, though, just bemused as Will settled down.
“Why didn’t you eat?” Will asked abruptly, suddenly wondering if he’d missed something.
Justin perked up and leaned over the table, stage-whispering far too loudly, “Your girlfriend’s vegan, dumbass.” He seemed far too pleased with himself, especially when it earned a loud snort from a half-asleep Ricky, and it took Will several seconds to process what he’d said.
Girlfriend. Chris was not his girlfriend. Chris was— “You’re vegan?” Will blurted, as if that was the most important part of that statement.
“Yeah,” Chris answered, audibly amused, “I have been. I’m also straightedge, even though you offered me a blunt last week.” She sounded far from annoyed, and Will wondered how he was supposed to remember anything ever when she smiled at him like that.
Let’s all pretend to be shocked by my request: 11 and 23 from the Smut Dialogue Prompts That Make Me Feral with Will and Noah.
From this post // Still accepting (I have a decently-sized list to fill still, though)
Prompts:
“Louder. Let me hear you.”
“Say my name.”
One day, I'll stop torturing Noah's bandmates. Maybe.
They needed to be quiet. They absolutely needed to be quiet. Jolly and Nicholas were in the hotel room next door, probably sleeping, and Noah assumed the room he was in wasn’t exactly soundproof. It was a cheap hotel with a bed that creaked with every single thrust of his hips, but Noah found any sort of logic unraveling in his hands with each noise Will made.
To Will’s credit, he was trying to muffle the noises he made. He screamed and squealed for a living; he was more than inclined toward being loud, and that extended to romps in bed. When they were at Noah or Will’s place, the sounds were fine — hot, really. Now, though, subtlety was key, especially with all of the hell Noah’s bandmates had given him for Will showing up to surprise him. The last thing Noah wanted was to prove them right, to prove that they were too in love and full of heady, thick lust to behave.
Not that this counted as behaving. Noah tried to quiet Will with rough, open-mouthed kisses; he swallowed each sound that came out for a while, but then he pressed their foreheads together to catch his breath in shallow, shaky pants, and that first uninhibited sound slipped free. It wasn’t even that noticeable, but it tugged at something in Noah.
It twisted at that part of Noah that wanted everyone to know how good he made Will feel, how wholly Will fell apart for him. So Noah adjusted the angle of his thrust, hit the spot that always made Will howl with pleasure, and Will whined, threw his head back, arched up off the bed. Blunt nails scratched at Noah’s back, and Will’s voice came out shaky and reedy.
“You told me to be quiet.” It was thoroughly accusational, and Will was right. Noah had damn near lectured Will as they’d stumbled through shedding their clothes, more inclined to reservation than his boyfriend was and feeling justified in his remarks for that simple fact alone.
Noah groaned into the crook of Will’s neck. “Don’t care,” he grunted, the admission leaving him with an ease he wouldn’t have possessed in any other circumstance. He hooked a hand behind Will’s knee, hiked his leg up to get deeper, to press closer. “Louder. Let me hear you.”
And Will, always one for being rebellious and cheeky outside of the bedroom solely for the sake of frustrating the people around him, was so compliant once he was pressed to a wall, once he’d sunk to his knees, once Noah had him in bed. Even on top, even half-feral as he pounded Noah, he listened in a way most people wouldn’t think him capable of. So, now, there was no hesitation. He dropped his head back, parted his lips, and moaned.
Any thoughts of the hell his bandmates would give him fell away from Noah so wholly it was almost as if they’d never been present to begin with. He grunted in Will’s ear, free hand finding Will’s cock to stroke him slowly, a contrast to the rhythm he set with his thrusts. “Say my name,” he ordered, the keens and gasps not enough to satisfy him.
Noah could be selfish in bed — not in the sense that his orgasm was most important, but in the sense that Will sparked this ever-present need in him. He wanted everything Will could give him, and he could occasionally slip into the headset where he demanded.
God, and did Will give. “Noah,” he cried, a rumble to his voice like he was about to twist his vocal cords into something demonic. Noah could feel the faint shake starting up in Will’s limbs, a tremble to the hands that clutched at him, and knew he was close, was reaching a climax to match the one in Noah’s own gut.
“Fuck,” Noah hissed, still quiet despite the volume was demanding of Will. His grip on Will’s cock tightened fractionally and he stroked faster, murmuring in his ear. “You’re mine.” And he was Will’s, wholly and completely, but that went unspoken.
Will nodded frantically, breath catching. “Yours. Y— Shit, Noah.” It took half a dozen more thrusts to push Will over the edge, and he damn near screamed Noah’s name to punctuate it.
The sound of his name punched out of Will’s chest tipped Noah into ecstasy, and he came with a sharp, brutal snap of his hips, growling Will’s name into the sweat-damp skin at the crook of his jaw.
As they came down — Noah pulling out just to tangle their limbs together, all gross and panting and shuddering to different degrees — the reality hit Noah, partially punctuated by the thump to the wall he shared with two of his bandmates. A ding and his phone lit up; a text from Folio, two rooms down, that Noah was gross and Folio hated him and Will both. Noah just sent a thumbs up emoji and tossed his phone, huffing when it kept skidding across the bedside table and hit the floor. Whatever.
“Who’s paying for the noise complaint?” Will murmured sleepily, nosing into Noah’s hair and grazing soothing fingers down Noah’s scratched-up back.
Noah didn’t even need to think. “Matt.” A soft, sweet kiss. “He might kill us, though,” he added as an afterthought.
Well since ur still taking requests for it, how abt “I can’t get enough of you.” with either Noah and Folio or Noah and Will?? I couldn't decide, so Jester's choice :)
From this post (still accepting)!!
Y'all. Y'all. The brain worms fucking got me. I managed to barely keep this under 2k words, so it's not going to be a Fic, but it is a lot for an ask box fill. Sorry? This is, in terms of tone, so bizarre. I had a lot of fun trying out this kind of voice for Folio and it seems to fit him okay, but I would definitely appreciate feedback on it.
I might also be setting up a casual little series where all of Folio's bandmates "help" him on tour.
Sexual content below the cut, MDNI. We got, uh, briefly mentioned anal fingering and protected anal sex; overstimulation/multiple orgasms; and oral sex (male receiving) with explicit mentions of cum and an odd little bit I added that I thought was funny (hint: Folio doesn't swallow).
Is this any good? Probably not. Am I posting it anyways before I can overthink it, so it's under-edited and haphazard? Yes. Banner by @/saradika-graphics.
It started out as them just messing around. Folio was pent up and frustrated already, only a week into tour and still so restless with desire that everyone noticed. Matt was the first to comment — but of course he’d be the guy to say something, to ask Folio if he really needed to get laid that badly. While Nicholas had contained his amusement and Jolly had almost managed to, Noah snickered outright as Folio’s face heated.
“Are you volunteering to help, Noah?” Matt asked without missing a beat. The smirk half-hid behind his can of Celsius made him look very pleased with himself.
Noah shrugged and leaned back against the green room wall. Everyone had found a spot to chill before their set, but Folio had been wearing out the shitty carpet as he paced. Probably why Matt had asked that stupid question. He had felt Noah’s gaze follow him for a bit, shift to something more interesting, return, leave again. His eyes were definitely on Folio now — the drummer could feel the heat of his gaze, even refusing to look. “I mean, if it’d calm Folio down, sure,” Noah answered as if it was no big deal.
Everyone had treated it like some cheeky joke, except for the brief glance that Nicholas had shared with Folio. It hadn’t been a warning in Nicholas’s eyes, but it had been something, and he blamed it for why Noah’s words got all tangled up in Folio’s head like they did.
And Folio was never good at resisting any stray impulse he might have had, so, when the thought hadn’t left the next day, of course he brought it up to Noah. The worst thing that happened was that Noah had, in fact, been full of shit and it wasn’t a genuine offer. Best case scenario, though, Folio got some fucking relief — and he got to know what it felt like to kiss Noah. Which he might have thought about once or twice.
Which was how Folio ended up pressed to a wall, Noah’s leg slotted between his thighs for Folio to grind on as they made out something rough and sloppy and casual. At least, it was probably casual for Noah — it certainly hadn’t felt that way for Folio. He didn’t get off against Noah’s leg (not because he couldn’t but because Noah wouldn’t let him) so he had to play an entire set half-hard, and he was obviously annoying everyone but Noah even more than before.
Folio swore to god he was going to explode. The next night was a chance to sleep in an actual bed — they’d be staying at a hotel — and maybe Folio’d finally, finally get a chance to fuck, but he had to stay sane until then. It felt impossible, though, because Noah seemed to constantly have a reason to be next to him, in his space, or even touching him. Innocent touches, sure, but still too much for how eager Folio was.
By the time Noah was letting them both into their shared hotel room the next day, Folio was all but vibrating. “You know you have to be quiet, right?” Noah asked, and Folio might have been annoyed by how smug Noah was if he wasn’t so damn excited. “I didn’t bring a gag this tour.”
That stopped Folio in his tracks so abruptly he nearly fell on his face, halfway through yanking his shoes off. His head whipped up once he found balance, eyes locking onto Noah. “This tour?” he echoed, completely unable to tell if Noah was full of shit or not.
Noah shrugged, shedding his jacket and his shoes, discarding his bags and the cheap little camera he’d had hanging around his neck with the sort of ease and grace that made Folio jealous. And frustrated, because he was now fighting his shoe laces and Noah was moving around like some angelic being and just smirking at him as he struggled. “I mean, didn’t see a need to. Nicholas and I haven’t really been messing around much lately.” It was an offhanded answer, easy and uncharged, but it still made Folio feel a little dizzy.
Folio tried to find any words at all to respond to that information but just ended up slamming into Noah and hauling him in for a kiss instead. He swallowed Noah’s laughter, clutched at his hair and pressed their bodies flush; he hoped that he could just convey how badly he needed this and Noah wouldn’t make him say it out loud.
Except, of course, it was Noah. He made Folio ask for what he wanted more than once, had him begging while stripped down in the bed and leaking all over his stomach. It would have been embarrassing how quickly Folio came, barely holding on to sanity as Noah fingered him open and then unraveling completely when he slid inside, if he had been able to feel anything but pleasure. Pleasure that twisted into overwhelm in the best way as Noah just kept fucking him.
Folio somehow managed to cum a second time before Noah finished, and he was twitching and writhing with overstimulation when Noah finally emptied into his condom with a groan in Folio’s ear.
They got a noise complaint, even with Noah shoving his fingers halfway down Folio’s throat as he fucked him, and Matt would not let it go. He acted annoyed, presented his words like he was complaining, but Folio knew him — he thought it was fucking hilarious. And, for a while, Folio settled. Kind of. He kept watching Noah, was keenly aware of where the taller man was in the room, always had a tangle in his gut whenever he was around, but he was calmer on the outside, and that was what mattered.
It lasted approximately four tour stops, and then Folio was back to pacing. No one got a chance to tease him this time, though: Noah walked into the green room Folio was lapping like no one’s business, and Folio was suddenly in his face, grabbing his hand and hauling him out the door.
(Folio was pretty sure Jolly called something out after them, but he only half-heard it and figured it was just more shit-talking.)
Noah seemed to know what Folio wanted, based on his smirk, but he looked nothing short of surprised when Folio found an empty closet and shoved him inside. “We can’t—“ he started, frowning when the door shut behind Folio.
“Fuck if we can’t,” Folio argued, suddenly up against Noah and mouthing at his throat. “You said you’d help me, right?” He rocked his hips against Noah’s, let him feel how worked up he already was. Hands went up under Noah’s shirt, nails scratching at a stomach that flexed beneath his touch.
A groan from Noah, head tipping back to bare his throat to Folio’s lips and tongue. “I meant that one time. As a— Fuck,” he hissed, bucking up into the hand that Folio now had rubbing against Noah’s bulge through his pants. “As a favor.” Except it hadn’t felt like a favor to Folio.
Something occured to him and Folio stopped abruptly, pulled back to look up at Noah. “Do you not want this?” he asked, trying to ignore how flushed Noah already was, how his pupils were blown to hell.
Noah blinked. “I . . .” He grabbed Folio’s arm, checked the watch on the other man’s wrist as best he could upside down. “We have an hour still. So, I mean, they’re going to give us hell, but we’re already here.” When it was clear that wasn’t enough, he sighed and trailed fingers along Folio’s jaw. “I want this,” he promised.
Which was all Folio needed. He kissed Noah fiercely, pulling him down by fistfuls of hair to minimize the height difference. He groaned low in his throat when Noah’s hands found his hips, slid around to his ass to pull their bodies flush.
“Thought once would be enough,” Noah murmured when they broke the kiss, staring down at Folio as he dropped to his knees. He carded fingers through Folio’s hair, leaned back against the closet wall as best he could, watched as Folio made quick work of freeing his dick.
Folio spit on his hand, started stroking Noah eagerly. “You did?” He couldn’t understand why Noah would think that. Had he really thought he could fuck Folio senseless and then Folio would be satisfied forever?
Noah’s response twisted into a groan as Folio swallowed him down. There was no hesitation, just a sloppy rhythm and messy sounds. It was probably obvious that Folio wasn’t used to doing this — he couldn’t take very much into his mouth, kept gagging on Noah’s cock — but he hoped his enthusiasm made up for it.
After a moment, Noah took a loud, shaky breath. “Do you even know what you’re doing?” he managed.
Folio pulled off with another gag and a slurp, staring up at Noah as he jerked him. “Am I doing a bad job?” he asked, only half-worried. Noah had sounded pretty into it, after all.
“No, you’re just . . .” Noah’s breath hitched in his throat when Folio tried a little twist of his wrist. “You’re making a mess.” A glance down at his own shirt and, yeah, Folio had kind of soaked it already.
It made Folio blush, which felt weird, but only because the answer he offered left him before he could censor himself. “I just want to do this for you. It feels different. I can’t get enough of you.” And, before Noah could get all smug about the vulnerability, Folio took his dick back between his lips.
Noah’s hand found the back of Folio’s head, though he let Folio set and maintain his own pace. Besides, he didn’t need any help gagging himself. He did thrust up into the heat of Folio’s mouth as he hit his climax, groaning a little louder at the noise Folio made (Folio thought it was gross, personally, but Noah seemed into it).
By the time Folio tried to decide if he was going to swallow the cum in his mouth or spit it, too undecided on the taste, Noah had tucked himself back into his pants. He’d just spit it in the corner of the closet and feel bad later, he decided — just as someone knocked on the door and he choked on it.
Any chance of staying silent and hoping whoever it was left was lost as Folio choked and coughed, making a mess and thumping his own chest. Noah made a face at what got on his own pants, ruffling Folio’s hair soothingly.
“Are you two done?” Matt called through the door. “Gotta do sound check early. Be on in ten. Long story, I’ve already bitched about it.”
Noah sighed loudly. “Yeah, we’ll be out in a minute,” he answered, clearly resigned to the ribbing they would get for this. He helped Folio up, wiped his face with Folio’s already-soiled shirt. “Guess we gotta go.” And then he slipped out the door, leaving Folio to realize he was still achingly hard with no relief in sight.
Wrath, forevermore, and mercy with Noah and Will, of course.
From this meme (temporarily not accepting)!!
Plot twist, Jester wrote something twisted and fucked up with The Boys[TM] for Malice.
This is kind of in the same universe as the last one I did with these two, so similar content warnings apply. It's dark and fucked up; there's possessiveness, a brief description of cutting/bleeding, a knife being used for the aforementioned bit, and unhealthy relationship dynamics. Be mindful, take care of yourself, etc.
(Also, typed very quickly and only read through twice; apologies for typos, but I'm suddenly inspired to clear out my ask box.)
Noah might have been angry, but he was never malicious without a reason — and, really, justified as it was, his wrath seemed more poised and exact than vicious and clumsy. He knew Will was used to being on the other side of the blade, to Noah on his back and bleeding at Will’s behest, but there were certain things that Noah just would not, could not tolerate.
In his opinion, Will should have seen this coming. He should have known that Noah was not inclined toward sharing; he should have been aware that such an act would spark the type of fury in Noah that could only end brutal and bloody. Will always cooed about how much he adored Noah, promising to keep him close forevermore as he etched another scar into Noah’s flesh; it felt foolish of him to make such a misstep in light of those words.
Because there was no possibility in Noah’s mind that Will had been lying. Will had been nothing but honest from the beginning, even about things he shouldn’t have confessed to. Will wanted to keep Noah, had marked and claimed him in every way imaginable, but perhaps Noah had made a mistake by not returning the favor before now. Maybe Will had acted out because Noah hadn’t etched a mark into his flesh in turn. Such an oversight was an easy one to fix, though.
So here Will was, face sleep-flushed but eyes wide and alert. Noah had woken him by shoving him onto his back and straddling his waist; Will had been groggy at first, blinking blearily up at him, but the glint of light on a familiar blade had caught his attention and jerked him into alertness. He looked confused but far from scared — if anything, Noah was fairly certain he could feel Will half-hard beneath him already, just from the faint trailing of the knife down his bare torso.
“I’m not going to punish you,” Noah mused, tilting his head. There was no warning, just an increase in pressure, a splitting of flesh and a swelling of red. “This is a gift, because I love you. No . . .” His eyes dropped to watch the letter he was carving blossom and bleed; black eyes flicked up to meet Will’s, and he smirked. “It’s a mercy.”
