This page is dedicated to fiction works inspired by Bad Omens, if real person fanfiction is something you’re not comfortable with, please move along find another blog
All of my work contains NSFW 18+ content, whether that is sexually explicit content or adult themes, MINORS DNI!
Do not repost, copy or steal from my work
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•My main blog that I follow/like from is @streamingcolors-gvf
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**Disclaimer: Everything written here is intended to be read as complete fiction with utmost respect for the real people these characters may be based on. I do not know any of them personally and do not intend for this to reflect on them as real people in any way.**
*I do not profit or benefit from anything posted on this blog. I’m here to write and share my fictional stories*
What’s Mine is Yours (Nick Folio x f!reader x Noah)
*AO3 link
A Helping Hand (Noah x Folio)
Mixed Signals
*AO3 link
Series
Blood Omens (vampire!au)
*AO3 link
Diamond Eyes
*AO3 link
With the Morning Sun
*AO3 link
A Little Hazy
*AO3 link
Unexpected
*AO3 link
Double Time, Part Two (Nick Folio x f!reader x Craig Reynolds)
*AO3 link
Riptide (lifeguard!au)
*AO3 link
What’s Mine is Yours (Nick Folio x f!reader x Noah Sebastian)
*AO3 link
It’s Late
*AO3 link
More than a Stranger
*AO3 link
A Helping Hand (Folio x Noah)
Say you Miss Me
Blurbs
*AO3 link
A Moment to Himself
Beg For It
See What You Do To Me
Series
The View Between Villages (bluecollarau!Folio) - wip
She might not be the only one he sleeps with, but Folio thinks she just might be the only one that matters.
Content warnings: mentions of drug use, oral (m recieving), cum play, polyamory/partner sharing, lil bit of toxicity if you squint
Contains sexual situations with a fictionalized version of a real person. None of this is real. It never happened.
This is a gift for @withcrossesandframes, inspired by this post, I saw it last night and haven't been able to stop thinking about it all day. Lightly proofread, just a quick lil ditty I pushed out in the span of a few hours 😅
Part of the Polyverse//Masterlist
------------
They’re stoned, snuggled in the bed in Noah’s guest room watching some movie they’ve both seen a hundred times. Not that it matters to Folio. He's too preoccupied with the weight of her body pressed against his, her head resting on his chest while one of her hands starts to wander.
He doesn't think he'll ever admit it to anyone, but he likes it like this with her the most. When the others are doing their own thing and it leaves time for him to grab her for a smoke and a nap—and other things.
Like right now.
The hand that's been slowly running across his belly, tracing mindless shapes over his shirt moves a little lower. Slipping under the hem of his shirt so she can thumb at the jut of his hip bone right above the waistband of his boxer briefs. He can already feel himself stir to life, cock slowly hardening in his sweats as she shifts, creeping down his body until she's resting between his legs.
She doesn't touch him right away, opting instead to caress him over his pants. He can feel her nails run over his shaft, dulled by the fabric separating them, yet heightened at the same time. Her mouth follows, teasing him with her warm breath as she traces him with parted lips. The movie plays on, forgotten, as he looks down to watch the way she nuzzles against his bulge.
Holly must feel his gaze because she looks up, mouth forming into a wry smile, and god, isn't that a fucking sight.
“Am I your favorite girl?”
The question shocks a quiet, breathless laugh out of him, only to turn into a hiss when her teeth come into play. They scrape lightly against his clothed cock, and his hips jerk at the sensation.
“Well?” she mumbles against him as she mouths at his tip, fingers playing with the waistband of his sweats.
“I—Holly--” he breathes, “you’re my only girl.”
They both know it's a lie… but while she might not be the only one he sleeps with, he'd be a liar to say she isn't the only one that actually matters. It's a fucked up thought, but that doesn't make it any less true.
Way back before all this started, he didn't understand what it was about her that had his friends wrapped around her finger. But now he gets it. He really fucking gets it.
Amusement drips from her voice as she hums a quiet, good answer, and then she's pushing his sweatpants down to pull him out of the hole in his boxer briefs. The warm swirl of her tongue on tip has his eyes rolling back, lids fluttering shut as he sinks back against the pillows.
He blinks open his heavy lids, desperate to watch as she sucks him slowly, lazily. Every bob of her mouth feels better than the last as she works him into her throat, taking him to the root she holds him there, swallowing around him before backing off to start all over again.
His orgasm doesn't sneak up on him, bursting forth in a rush like it usually does. It moves over him in a wave, cresting as he empties into her mouth, but instead of the warm suction that usually comes as she swallows, cool air mixes with her warm breath as she parts her lips, spilling his own release back over him.
“Jesus…” he curses quietly, dick twitching as his gaze cuts from her face, watching her lick at the corner of her mouth, to the mess of cum covering him. His fingers move on their own accord, gliding through the sticky, milky white, and as she lets him slip the digits into her open mouth to suck them clean, Folio knows he's gonna get hard again. “You made a mess all over me, baby. You gonna clean it up?”
“Would be a shame to waste it all,” she jokes softly when he pulls his fingers from her mouth, keeping her eyes on his as she works to clean him up. It’s filthy, yet sensual at the same time—almost hotter than having his dick sucked, he thinks. The way her tongue peeks out to lap up his cum, swirling around his shaft, his ball sack, up to the little bit gathered in the wiry curls at the base of his cock.
He's hard by the time she's done, but sensitive after all her attention, and he’s more than content to tuck himself back into his underwear before he pulls her up to kiss him. Her heat seeps into him through the thin layers separating them and he can't help but groan at the taste of himself in her mouth. She tastes like him and it's as much of a claim as he's gonna get.
It makes him sink his fingers into her waist, and as much as he'd love to fuck her, he's not confident in his ability to not explode the moment he slips inside her… so he rolls them, pressing her back into the mattress.
“What about me?” He asks, shuffling down her body to pull her thin lounge pants off. Her face scrunches and her brows furrow even as she lets him do the same with her underwear. “Am I your favorite?”
She smirks down at him, pressing her index finger to her lips as if she's thinking. “Definitely top five.”
If he didn't understand the intricacies of this whole thing, this weird relationship they all share with her, his ego would probably be hurt. But he does, and he knows there's two whose places he's never gonna touch. So he laughs, pushing away the small niggling feeling of jealousy, as he plants his hands on either side of her head to hold himself over her. “Top five? Really? Not even top three, huh?”
She hums, reaching up to take the cross on his necklace between her fingers and move it back and forth on the chain. “Well, that depends.”
“On what?”
“If I'm mad at Jolly or not.” She quips back. Arousal tingles in his belly at the little half smile that grows on her face. He has to bite his lip to hold back the groan that wants to escape.
He dips down to kiss her again, breaking away to press his lips to her neck on his way to lie on his stomach beneath her thighs.
“Well, then I better get to work, remind you why I am one of your favorites. And while I'm down here, I'm sure there's something you can decide to get mad at Jolly for.”
His orgasm doesn't sneak up on him, bursting forth in a rush like it usually does. It moves over him in a wave, cresting as he empties into her mouth, but instead of the warm suction that usually comes as she swallows, cool air mixes with her warm breath as she parts her lips, spilling his own release back over him.
Holly's one of the most stubborn, independent women Matt's ever known, and despite the fact that she hates it, he can't help but want to spoil her.
Content warnings: polyamory/partner sharing, hand jobs, ruined orgasm/orgasm denial, oral (m and f receiving), brief sprinkle of daddy kink
Special thanks to @withcrossesandframes for being the best ride or die and always being willing to listen to my polyverse brainrot (and make it worse with her own thoughts) and Illy for giving this thing a look through (all mistakes are still my own)
Title once again from white nail polish by holywatr
And, as always, this contains sexual situations with a fictionalized version of a real person. None of this is real. It's all make believe.
Part of the Polyverse//Masterlist
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Matt Dierkes sent you a deposit $$
The notification comes just as she walks into her favorite nail salon in L.A. It’s not too far from Noah and Jolly’s house, but far enough she feels like she can breathe without being the weight of the pre-tour testosterone that’s filling the place right now. She loves her boys, but sometimes she needs a break.
With a sigh, she thumbs open her and Matt’s text thread.
<Holly> Matt…
<Matt> the guys said you were doing a self-care day or some shit.
<Matt> my treat
<Matt> … seriously. Just say thank you and accept it. I can see you scowling from here.
She immediately relaxes her face. Sometimes it bothers her how well he manages to read her, even over text. She huffs, looking at the transfer again. It’s the exact amount she usually pays, which means he didn’t do this on his own. Sighing again, she shakes her head, pressing the “accept deposit” button as she tries to fight the different emotions swirling inside her.
<Holly> I wasn’t scowling
<Matt> sure you weren’t
<Matt> enjoy your “you” time
⸻
It feels like they’ve been at it for hours, and they probably have. Noah’s usually insanely comfortable studio chair feels like a torture device, and Matt’s back fucking aches. He’s more than thankful for the break. There’s only so much they can go over before even Nick can’t stand Noah’s pissiness anymore and he forces them all out to get fresh air.
Matt yawns, stretching his arms above his head, arching his spine in an effort to relieve some of the soreness he knows is only bound to get worse. He needs to lie down… maybe have Holly walk on his back, see if she can get any of his shit to adjust back to something resembling normal.
Distant voices and muffled laughter float up to him through the open door of Noah’s studio, and while he was thinking of joining them, he wonders if Holly’s back yet. The thought of her has him reconsidering as he pushes to his feet. It’s not that he’s afraid of her, not really, however he knows she wasn’t pleased when he sent her the money—even if she accepted it—and who knows what she’s got up her sleeve as payback.
He’s not afraid of her, but he lingers upstairs anyway. Taking his time as he walks down the hall, stopping at the bathroom before he heads downstairs to get a drink. He’s just finished splashing water on his face when the doorknob jiggles. Matt sighs.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” He wipes his face, but before he can turn and open the door, he hears the lock turn. “Dude, I know it’s your house, but a locked door usually means someone’s in here--” the words die in his throat when he glances up at the mirror and sees who it is. Back flush with the door frame, hands hidden behind her, Holly’s eyes sparkle with mischief as they meet his in the reflection.
“I just figured you’d want to see the nails you paid for.”
“Didn’t think it could wait, huh?”
She shrugs, kicking away from the door. “I figured it’d be better to show you alone.” The sweet smirk on her face should probably put him on guard, but as he watches her close the small distance between them, all he feels is giddy.
“Is that right?”
She hums an agreeing noise into the space between his shoulder blades, pressing herself against his back. It makes a spark of anticipation light up his insides. His breath catches when her fingers slip beneath his shirt, her nails lightly scratching the skin of his back, trailing around his hips. They leave goosebumps in their wake, making the hair stand up on his arms as a shiver rolls through him.
Her hands stay under the thin cotton of his worn band tee, gliding along the edge of the waistband of his sweats before one dips into his underwear. It’s cool against his fevered skin as it slips through the wiry hair. She traces a small arch around the base of his hardening cock, running a teasing finger along his shaft before she retreats.
“What are you doing Holly?” he asks as she pushes his sweatpants down, just enough to free him through the fly of his boxer briefs.
“I told you… I’m showing you my nails. Don’t you like them?”
The sight of her pretty, almost delicate, tattooed fingers wrapped around him makes his mind go blank. Holly’s not necessarily a tiny woman, but the way his dick looks in her hand makes the caveman part of his brain go crazy and he almost forgets what he’s supposed to be looking at. She scrapes the nails of her other hand over the cut of his hip, bringing him back to the present as she prods him again, “What do you think.”
He watches her thumb run over his shaft, and he blinks, trying to focus less on the feel of her touch and more on her nails.
They’re simple. Not super long like the way he’s seen some girls wear, and while they’re pointy, they’re not sharp. The white color seems understated, but as she shifts her grip, it catches the light and Matt thinks he can see a flash of purple.
A mournful noise escapes his mouth before he can hold it back when her hand suddenly leaves him, only for her to shush him with a soft giggle. Through the mirror he can see her bring it up to her mouth, and his dick twitches almost painfully when their eyes lock as she spits into her palm. He can’t help the way his eyes close and his head tips back for a moment when she takes him back in her hand and begins to stroke him.
“You’re kind of an asshole, you know.” The insult lacks any bite. It’s affectionate, even, and combined with the spit-slick drag of her hand, it has him rocking into the tight circle of her fist.
“Why?” he pants, blinking his eyes open to watch the way her hand moves. “Because I did something—fuck—nice for you?”
“I can pay for things myself.”
Oh, he knows. Holly’s probably one of the most independent, stubborn ass women Matt’s ever fucking met. Which is probably why he wants to take care of her so much. Spoil her, even though he knows there are three other men who can and will. It delighted him when the notification went from sent to accepted, and god, if that pretty pearl white doesn’t look so good set against her golden skin.
He grips the counter of the vanity, trying to hold on to every ounce of his self-control as he quips, “You know… you haven’t even said thank you…”
“Isn’t that what I’m doing now?”
Matt laughs, and the sound borders on hysterical as he feels his orgasm start to close in. “Is it?”
“Mhm…” she hums quietly as she nips at his shoulder. Matt tips his eyes up to the mirror, just in time to see her tongue peek out between those red, red lips and lick up the side of his neck, and she whispers into the shell of his ear, “Thank you… daddy.”
She’s playing fucking dirty, and although he should probably know better, he falls for the bait. She twists her wrist, tightening her grip around his tip, and he can feel the telltale tingle in his balls while his heartbeat pounds in his ears. It turns into white noise as he teeters on the edge of his release—god it’s been forever since she’s touched him like this and he doesn’t think it’s ever felt this sweet—only for her to drop him from her grasp, abandoning him just as the sweet sweet pleasure of his orgasm begins to take hold.
Maybe later, when he’s had the time to look back, he’ll be embarrassed at how pathetic the word no sounds as it leaves his mouth while he watches, helpless, as his stomach muscles jump and spasm. His release hits the mirror, the sink, but he feels nothing at all… except frustration.
His ears are still ringing when he looks up to meet her gaze in the mirror again. She’s smirking, and he hates that despite the pent-up feelings swirling inside him, his cock twitches. Trying to bring his heart rate down, he takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Oh, Holly…” he pants around a shaky laugh, “you’re so fucked when you decide to stop punishing me.”
Holly bites her lip, as if she’s imagining exactly what he might do the next time he gets his hands on her. But then she huffs a laugh. “Uh huh, can’t wait.” She gives him a wink, stopping with her hand on the door before she turns to him again. “Thanks again for the nails.”
He throws a half-hearted middle finger her way, and all he gets in return is a giggle as she walks out the door.
⸻
By the time he’s done cleaning up his own mess in the bathroom, the studio is still empty, except for Jolly messing around on the computer, and Matt’s not quiet when he slumps into the bean bag behind him.
Jolly snorts at his exaggerated sigh, but he doesn’t bother looking at him as he asks, “What happened to you?”
“Your girlfriend did. She’s a goddamn sexual terrorist.”
He watches Jolly’s fingers stop moving across the keyboard; the cursor blinking expectantly on the screen as his friend turns the chair in his direction. “Oh?” Jolly’s eyebrows raise. “And what’d she do now?”
“Ruined my orgasm, that’s what.” It should feel weird talking to his friend about the sex he has with said friend’s girlfriend, and sometimes it still is, but Matt’s too frustrated to care right now. Frustrated and pent up in a way that only Holly can make him and who better to vent to than to one of the men she calls her boyfriend?
“Oh, you really fucked up, didn’t you?”
Jolly’s laugh sets him on edge, and he just barely manages to keep his voice down when he responds, “I was trying to do something nice for her!”
“And you did. Thanks for paying for those nails by the way… I was going to do it this time so thanks for taking the heat off me.”
“Does she do this to you too??”
“Oh, no.” Jolly laughs again. “I mean, she hates when any of us spend money on her, but no she hasn’t ruined any of my orgasms because I paid for her nails.”
The comment makes Matt roll his eyes as something that feels a little like jealousy washes through him. “Must be nice having boyfriend perks.”
The comment wasn’t meant as a dig, but he wouldn’t fault Jolly for taking it as one. His friend just grins instead. “Absolutely… and as one of my boyfriend perks, I’m giving you permission the next time she lets you get close to her. Something tells me that was the warmup, so don’t worry about when it happens.”
“The other two gonna be okay with that?”
“You think they prefer you pent up and on edge?”
“Fair point.”
Their conversation hangs in the air as silence stretches between them, and as crazy as it is, he does feel a little better now. He’s still frustrated as hell, and he’s definitely gonna get himself off later to the thoughts of how he’s gonna get her back for this, but he feels slightly more rational. However, he can’t help but ask, “Does it ever weird you out that we have conversations like this about your girlfriend?”
“Not really.” Jolly shrugs with a smile, pushing to his feet. “Now, if you’ll excuse me… I’m going to see if I can admire the way those nails look clenched against my sheets.”
⸻
It takes him a few days into tour to catch her alone, and Holly’s almost surprised. But then again, she hasn’t made it easy for him. She’s spent most of her free time with Davis, helping him out with the pop ups, making sure the displays and merch are exactly how Noah would want them. It's not that she’s avoiding him on purpose. She’d be a liar, though, if she said she didn’t enjoy this little cat-and-mouse game between them—she hasn’t forgotten his promise before she left him in Noah’s bathroom—but the busy work also helps keep her away from Folio’s wandering gaze, and hands. Ever since she found out he definitely wasn’t single when they hooked up in Europe, and hadn’t been since before Halloween, she’s been determined to keep the space between them as wide as possible.
Matt seems to snatch the first opportunity he sees, though, cornering her in the room on the back of the bus. The one with the full-sized mattress the boys take turns sharing (usually with her) when they need a night to spread out away from their bunks, and while she’s sure he locked the door, she doesn’t actually care. Neither does Matt, judging by the way he looks at her spread out on the bed as he looms over her before he peels down her underwear and leggings.
He tosses his hat onto the bed beside them once he’s between her legs, hands pressing into her thighs bruisingly to keep her spread open while he dives in. He works her up quickly, putting his mouth on her in the way he’s learned she likes, teasing her with his tongue before he seals his lips around her clit. It has her hips bucking up against his mouth as he works two fingers inside her, but just as she feels her orgasm begin to creep up on her, he pulls back. Mouthing at the skin of her thigh, and slipping his fingers from her cunt, he laughs at her noise of protest.
“I told you, Holls. You were so fucked when you decided to stop punishing me… and now I got you exactly where I want you.” He says, raising his head so she can watch the way he sucks her taste from his fingers. There’s something about the way he closes his eyes, making a noise of content in the back of his throat that pulls a whimper from her own mouth. He opens his eyes, squeezing one of her thighs gently. “Don’t worry, baby. We’re just getting started.”
It sounds more than a little condescending, and it does nothing to reassure her. Especially not with the smirk on his face as he lowers his mouth to her once again.
Holly loses track of time, and how many orgasms he denies her. He goes farther and farther each time, getting her closer to the precipice, drawing it out as long as he can before he snatches it away. Every lost orgasm makes her want to sob, and she can feel the tears run down her cheeks as the pleasure gets to be too much.
“Please, Matt—Matt please,” she cries, sinking a hand into his hair, tugging the blonde strands in an attempt to get him to stop or maybe just finally let her cum, she doesn’t quite know for sure. Only for him to grip her wrist. He pins it to the mattress effortlessly, pulling away to look up at her. His chin is soaked, lips red, shining in the low light of the bus as they pull up into a saccharine smile.
The curl of his fingers inside her makes her want to sob, back arching when he lets her wrist go to press the flat of his palm against her lower belly. It's all too much, yet not enough, and when he presses his thumb against her spit soaked clit, she can't take it anymore. She clenches down on his fingers as pleasure builds inside her once again, whimpering at the thought of him snatching it away.
“Daddy please-”
Humiliation and shame bubble inside her gut, heating her cheeks when the words leap off her tongue without her permission. It spreads down her chest as Matt's eyes light up with approval and the unspoken praise sinks into her bones. Tipping his head, he noses along her clit before wrapping his lips around the bundle of nerves and sucks.
The orgasm is almost painful when he finally lets her have it, crashing over her so fiercely she has to clamp a hand over her mouth to muffle the keen that rips through her. Matt doesn't stop. It's almost as if he's apologizing, making up for how many times he denied her by rolling her into another, and fucking her through the aftershocks with his fingers until she's weakly pushing his head away.
Her legs twitch as he kisses up her body, nipping at her belly before he presses mouth to hers. He tastes like her, and it feels like a claim. It does something to her insides, sprouting a feeling Holly doesn't quite want to name, so she doesn't. She puts it out of her mind, putting all her focus into planting a hand on his chest to send him to his back.
She settles on her knees in the v of his legs, palming at the obvious bulge in his sweats. It makes her mouth water. Holly wastes no time; shoving his hoodie out of the way and pushing down the thick fleece of his sweats so she can pull him out of his underwear. He’s already leaking from his tip, the salty precum bursting on her tongue when she leans forward to lick it up.
“Fuck Holls.” he sighs quietly as she smiles against his shaft, sucking wet kisses into the velvet skin before she fully takes him into her mouth.
Petting her hair back from her face with one hand, he cradles her cheek with the other, running his thumb through the wetness gathered at the corner of her eye.
“Fucking pretty.” Matt mumbles as she takes him to the root. The compliment, and the way he looks at her as he says it, is enough to have her clenching her thighs together. Her cunt aches with want at the thought of fucking him, and she would if they had the time, but they don’t. This isn’t a bad alternative, though, she thinks as she watches, through teary eyes, as his eyes roll back when she swallows around him.
He seems content to let her take the reins, thighs shaking under her hands as he holds himself back from thrusting into her mouth… It’s only when he’s close that he takes over. He’s not necessarily rough like he has been in the past, but he’s not gentle either when he holds her head down as he cums down her throat.
⸻
Her panties are missing when he eventually hands over her leggings, but Holly’s certain she sees a scrap of lace peeking out from his pocket when he leans down to kiss her before he goes.
“You’re gonna have to start bringing some of those back,” she calls after him.
“Maybe I’ll just have to start buying you new ones.”
-----
tag team: @mrslumi @ferduttini @ami-gami @dunnkop-bo-eng @branika182 @lacy1986
*if you'd like to be added to my taglist please feel free to comment, dm me, or send me an ask
I tell you all the time, but the way you pull me into this universe… absolute perfection 🤌. You’re the best at writing Matt. Hands down. I can picture him, and the both of the together so well it makes me SICK.
The banter?? The teasing?? The chemistry??
I love Matt and Holly so much. This was devastatingly hot to read. Now I need to go write. I’ve been inspired by this.
warnings: bruh. smut. smut, smut, smut. fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, petnames (pretty girl, good girl, sweetheart, baby), risk of getting caught (mentioned), dirty talk, creampies.
summary: sometimes, there are days where noah’s in a mood and he decides that he’s going to see how long it takes to push you to your limit. today is one of those days.
an: this is my apology to y’all for taking so long to write the companion fic to quarantined. I promise it’s in the works, but while i’m still cobbling it together i hope you enjoy this. this is also my first time putting smut out into the world so pls be kind lmao.
I listened to rule #34 by fish in a birdcage on repeat if you want to set the ~vibes~.
additionally, i’m sorry because i don’t know how to not be a verbose bitch because whhhy is this so long. i also have no beta reader so if anything’s weird you can let me know.
word count: 4,260 (screams)
“Shh, pretty girl. You don’t want them to hear you, do you?”
Dark brown eyes stare down at you from beneath the curtain of his bangs, the ends already beginning to curl as they dry from his earlier shower. There’s a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips that says he’s beyond satisfied with himself and the state he’s worked you into beneath him, and all you want to do is kiss that damned look off his face. Besides, who does he think he is, telling you to keep quiet? It’s not like you can make much noise—no matter how much you want to—with the hard currently covering your mouth. He knows this. You know he knows this.
And still Noah grins.
All of this had started when he came back into his room after taking a shower and finding you stretched out on his bed, dressed in an oversized shirt you’d stolen from his closet and a pair of athletic shorts you’d plucked out of his dresser. Sure, you had brought your own clothes with you for the weekend, but there was something about stealing his that was more satisfying than wearing your own. Something about stolen fruit being twice as sweet, you’d told yourself. His clothes were always comfier than your own.
He’d clocked it the minute he walked in, toweling at his hair as he stood in the doorway. There had been a moment where you looked up from scrolling on your phone, catching his stare and lifting your own eyebrow in a what’re you going to do about it kind of way. Noah had taken one step forward, letting the towel drop to rest around his shoulders.
“Those are mine,” he’d said, like the obvious needed to be stated.
“Yeah,” you replied evenly, sitting up just a bit straighter on the bed. “And?”
You’d watched the way he tilted his head to the side, dark eyes watching you with an intensity that had your pulse climbing. You knew that look: that look meant he was plotting. Noah’s gaze had lingered on you for a moment longer before a quick glance was given over his shoulder to the bedroom door—making sure it had closed behind him—and then he was grabbing the towel from his shoulders and tossing it into the clothes hamper near his closet. Bare feet carry him to the bed, a slow and lazy pace set as he saunters forward. One hand reaches up to run long fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face as he comes to a stop beside the bed, staring down at where you’re sitting near the wall.
“You like taking my things?” The words come from deeper in his chest than you’re used to, and it’s enough to have the hair on your arms standing on end.
“Your clothes are more comfortable,” you try to defend, but he’s already bending down and reaching out to grab at your ankles so he can tug you to the edge of the bed before you can protest.
“That wasn’t the question.”
Oh, fuck.
You don’t have much time to think before you’re being tugged across the bed, your legs pushed up and back as your ass settles near the edge, Noah already crowding into the space between your thighs with a firm grip still on your ankles. Your hands fist at the comforter beneath you, breathing coming faster as a rush of adrenaline floods through your veins.
“Yes,” you answer breathlessly, almost too quickly, feeling blood starting to rush up your neck and across your cheeks as a flush settles onto your skin.
His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he looks down at you. You swear that you can see the gears turning inside his head, watch as the plan goes from vague to something fully realized in the span of a few heartbeats. For a moment, Noah stays still, then you watch as that familiar smirk works across his face and settles like it was always meant to be there. The thumb of his right hand rubs against the jut of bone beneath it before Noah begins to trail his fingertips along the inside of your leg.
“And do you think I should just let you get away with that?”
It’s a hypothetical question. He isn’t looking for an answer.
So you stay quiet, swallowing nervously as his fingers brush the inside of your knees, a soft sound catching in the back of your throat and causing Noah’s eyes to immediately snap up to your face. A soft tsk follows as his hand continues its upward climb, palm flattening against the smooth skin of your inside thigh as his hand starts to disappear under the material of the athletic shorts you’d pilfered from his wardrobe. “Makin’ noise already, sweetheart? I haven’t even gotten started.”
Your teeth find the inside of your cheek as you bite down in a bid to keep quiet, even though you know it’s going to be a futile effort in the long run. Noah knows exactly which buttons of yours to press to get the reaction he wants and he’s more than happy to do so. There’s warmth pooling low in your belly, wetness already gathering on the material at the crotch of your underwear, and he’s barely done anything beyond touching you. There’s something infuriating about that—about how little it takes for him to turn you on, to have you melting into a puddle beneath him.
Noah, however, relishes in it. It’s like a game for him to see just how quickly he can have you begging. Some nights you can’t help yourself and you give in easily, others you make him work for it.
You want tonight to be one of those nights where he has to work for it.
The hand on your thigh moves higher, fingertips brushing at the crease where your thigh meets your pelvis, and Noah traces a finger along the edge of your underwear. “I think my favorite thing about you wearing my clothes,” Noah starts to say, hand tipping inward so he can press his index finger against the cotton already clinging to your folds with how wet you are, “is me getting to take them off you.”
A firmer press follows the words and Noah can’t bite back his own groan as he feels the cotton dampen even more against his finger. “Jesus fucking christ,” hisses out of him, body tilting forward to arch over you as his left hand abandons your ankle to press against the mattress beside your head to hold himself up. “You’re already so wet.” When he looks back up at you, that smirk he wore earlier has only grown wider. “This all for me?”
A shudder runs the length of your spine before it bows off the mattress beneath you, hips canting to follow the pressure of his finger even as he pulls it back.
“Don’t tease,” you manage to say, pupils blown as you stare up at him.
Bending his left arm to get closer to you, Noah gently brushes the tip of his nose against yours.
“But that’s my favorite part.”
Just when you’re about to fire back a retort, to let him know what you really think, he’s pulling his hand out from the pant leg of the shorts and pushing off the bed so that he can stand between your spread thighs. A quick, assessing gaze rakes over you, a furrow appearing momentarily between his brows before his hands reach up to hook his fingers into the waistband of the shorts.
“Good girls say what?” Noah asks, eyes half-lidded, low voice.
“Noah—” You start, and he shakes his head.
“Wrong.” He tugs the waistband back and pulls his fingers out so it snaps against your skin. “Try again.”
You’re more surprised than hurt by the sudden snap of elastic against the skin of your waist, but that doesn’t stop you from letting out a hiss at the sting.
“Fuck,” is what comes first, and you see the way he watches, the way his eyes widen, and you’re quickly following it up with a soft, “Please.”
That’s enough to earn a pleased hum from the brunette’s chest as he reaches back up and hooks his fingers into the waistband once more, slowly starting to pull both shorts and underwear down along your legs; only moving to make enough room to get the material down your calves so they can be dropped onto the floor and forgotten about.
Now, half naked beneath him, you feel the familiar creep of modesty and shyness starting to settle in. You shift your legs in an attempt to close them and all that succeeds in doing is causing his hands to fall to your knees, pushing your thighs open once more as he lowers himself to the ground and settles in front of where you’re sitting on the edge of the bed. With the space now given, Noah crowds in eagerly, his shoulders brushing the insides of your legs..
“No hiding,” he whispers, right hand already moving between your legs so he can press his thumb gently against your clit. The bundle of nerves is already sensitive and swollen as he brushes his thumb back and forth against it, and you watch the way Noah’s attention locks fully onto your cunt. “That’s a good girl.” His thumb slips down to drag between your folds and collect some of the slickness already gathering there, dragging it back up and over your clit.
Your stomach tightens at the pleasure radiating between your hips, lips parting into a silent moan as your thighs twitch with the urge to tighten around the man between them. Looking down the length of your body, you see Noah staring up at you, dark brown eyes watching your face as he circles his middle finger against the entrance of your pussy before slowly pushing it in. The both of you make a sound in unison—you a soft gasp, him a groan—and Noah tips his head down to rest his forehead against your thigh just above your knee.
“Fuck. Fuck. You’re always so wet for me.” Only once he’s sunk his finger all the way to the last knuckle does Noah pull it back, curling it carefully to rub against your front wall before sinking back in. “So fuckin’ warm and tight.”
One of your hands leaves the bed in an attempt to reach down and grab at him, but all you succeed in doing is dragging your fingers against his shoulder and having your hand fall back to the bed. “Noah,” you whine, hips jerking as he pulls his finger back out only to add his ring finger and press into you once more. With two fingers working slowly and methodically inside of you, Noah lifts his head and tips it forward, mouth pressing a quick kiss to your clit before his lips part, tongue slipping out to sweep against the nub. Pleasure, electric and overwhelming, surges through you and has you jerking against his mouth—which only makes the brunette groan against you, left arm hooking under your knees and banding across the top; palm pressing flat against your hip to hold you in place.
Noah works your clit like a man possessed; quick flicks and slower circles given to the sensitive nerves until you can hear the sound of just how wet your pussy is as his fingers continue to pump in and out of you. You know what he’s aiming to do, that he isn’t going to stop until you come, and you know it isn’t going to be long with the pleasure that’s already starting to build. The hand that had tried to grab onto him earlier reaches down once more, and you succeed in threading your fingers through his hair, the strands still damp close to his scalp.
“N-Noah, fuck—” you try and warn him, legs starting to twitch on either side of his head. “Wait, I’m gonna—”
The word wait is enough to have him redoubling his efforts; a hungry groan given against your cunt before he’s withdrawing his fingers entirely and letting his tongue do the work. He lets himself dip his tongue down to your pussy to lick through the slick there before focusing his attention solely on your clit, alternating between gentle sucks and quick flicks against your clit, the rhythm consistent so you can find your release. Only once does Noah stop; head tipping back to look at you, chin slick and pupils blown wide.
“C’mon, baby. You gonna come for me? Lemme have it.” And then his mouth on you once more and that’s all it takes.
Your fingers tighten in his hair as your body arches off the mattress, thighs shaking on either side of Noah’s head as you come, your moan caught behind your teeth because you know that his roommates still exist on the other side of the door.
He keeps going, even as you shake, tongue and mouth greedy as he takes everything you have to give until overstimulation has you whining and shoving at his head. Even then, Noah still gives one last suck to your clit, pulling back and grinning as he stares up at you. The hand on your hip loosens its grip, rubbing back and forth in a soothing pet before he carefully nudges your thighs from the tops of his shoulders.
“Always so fuckin’ good for me.” He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, tongue darting out to drag across his lips after. Pushing himself to his feet, there’s no hiding the effect that eating you out had on him: the front of his own basketball shorts are tented, and Noah reaches down to adjust himself through the material, exhaling heavily as the adjustment turns into him palming himself.
Dark eyes rake over the way you’re spread out before him, pussy wet with your own arousal and his spit. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”
You’d blush if it wasn’t for the fact that your face was already flushed. Pushing yourself up onto your elbows, you watch with your own eyes half-lidded, as Noah pushes down his shorts and boxer briefs and steps out of the puddle they make on the floor. Then he reaches down and grabs at the hem of his tank top to pull that off and toss it behind him, uncaring where it falls, attention snapping back to you as soon as it’s gone.
All you can do is stare at the sight of him; skin still slightly flushed from his earlier shower, the ends of his hair curling where it’s starting to dry, his cock thick and hard where it fights against gravity to strain up toward his belly button. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips the moment he reaches down and wraps his fingers around himself, stroking from base to tip like he’s trying to relieve some of the pressure.
Noah steps forward before you have a chance to say anything, already pushing your legs open and crowding between them, the hand not wrapped around his own cock bracing against the mattress beside you. “Scoot up for me, yeah?” he asks, and you oblige without needing to hear it twice. Scooting back to the center of the bed, you let yourself fall back, arms reaching up above your head as Noah follows after you.
There’s hunger in his eyes, yes—but there’s also something softer; adoration that rarely gets spoken. He may tease, he may push you to your limits, but he’ll always take care of you. You know that just like you know the sky is blue. His knees sink into the mattress as he positions himself between your thighs, holding himself near the base so he can smack the head of his cock against your clit; smirking at the gasp it draws from you.
With most of his weight braced on his knees, Noah takes the opportunity to reach up, his hand covering your mouth as he continues to rub the head of his cock against your clit.
“Shh, pretty girl. You don’t want them to hear you, do you?”
Whatever retort is poised on the tip of your tongue fades immediately as Noah angles his cock down, the flushed head now rubbing through your folds, collecting the wetness there and coating himself in it as he fights back a grunt. His hand has already abandoned your mouth to hold onto your thigh, fingers pressing into the skin just enough to have it dimple beneath his fingertips. That furrow is back between his brows as he stares down between the two of you, lips parted in a look akin to wonder as he watches the way his cock drags through your folds.
Your only warning that he’s going to push in is the gentle squeeze he gives to your leg before the hand falls back to the bed beside you once his hips begin to press forward.
“Oh, fuck—” The words leave you in a breathless exhale as you feel the sudden stretch, Noah pushing in slowly, making sure to take his time and let you adjust. Both his arms are pressed into the mattress on either side of you, caging you beneath him as he works inch after inch into your cunt. Your legs come up and wrap around his waist automatically, adjusting the angle with the movement enough that you feel him drag against somewhere inside of you that has your eyes fluttering shut and you force yourself to swallow back your moan. When he’s finally buried to the hilt, you feel him shiver above you, head dipping down to bury his face into your neck.
“Holy shit, you feel so good, baby.” Warm air puffs against your neck as he speaks. Another shiver follows the words, and Noah gives an experimental roll of his hips that has the both of you moaning. Another breath hits your neck, this time a laugh, and you hear Noah murmur his next words directly against your skin. “S-sshh, I was serious. We gotta… gotta be quiet.”
Easier said than done when he’s stretching you like that and making these little sounds that have your pussy squeezing eagerly around him. The first squeeze is enough to drag a grunt from deep within his chest, and he braces himself on his forearms, reluctantly dragging himself away from you so he can look down at your face instead. That familiar pinch to his brows is back, the one that makes you want to reach up and smooth it away with your thumb, but your hands are already busy grabbing at the blankets beneath you.
“You’re the one making noise,” you whine, aiming for teasing and missing by a mile.
Noah’s only response is a slow drag back of his hips before he snaps them forward again hard enough to jostle you on the bed. Your mouth parts in a gasp, the shock running through you, and he turns his arm so he can clamp a hand back over your mouth before the sound has a chance to escape.
“Keep runnin’ that mouth and see where it gets you.” The dark brown of his eyes are almost completely swallowed by the blacks of his pupils, and though the words might seem harsh, you know Noah’s always more bark than he is bite.
Reaching up, you wrap your arms around his neck, one palm resting flat on the back while your other hand reaches up so you can sink your fingers back into his hair; nails dragging lightly across his scalp in a way that has the brunette making a pleased sound as he begins to set a rhythm. Your heels press into the small of Noah’s back and encourage him forward after he pulls back, the bedroom filling with the soft slap of skin against skin, and the wet noise of Noah’s cock working in and out of your pussy.
His right arm stays braced by your head while the other reaches down to hold onto your hip, thrusts precise and mean as he pulls out until only the head of his cock remains inside, then snapping forward again to sink himself to the root; bottoming out inside of you with the soft slap of his balls against you.
“Fuck, baby—”
His voice is strained above you, and he drops his head to press his forehead into the juncture where your neck and shoulder meet. You can feel the way his cock throbs inside of you, and you meet every pulse with a clench of your own; walls tightening around him and dragging another moan from somewhere deep inside of him. This time, you feel his hips stutter, and Noah’s fingers flex before grabbing desperately at your thigh.
The next thrust has him dragging his teeth against the skin of your shoulder before he bites down—not enough to bruise, certainly not enough to break skin, but just enough to leave behind an impression of his teeth where he attempts to muffle his own sounds.
“M’close.” It’s both a warning and a question.
You hook your legs tighter around his waist in a silent answer.
That’s all the permission he needs before he’s moving his hand from your hip to grab at the blankets beside your head, knuckles turning white with how tight his grip is as he picks up the pace. He shifts, adjusts the angle, and now rubs somewhere inside of you that has your toes curling and your back arching off the bed as pleasure sparks out along your nerve endings. You gasp out a quiet oh god and Noah latches onto it like a man grabbing onto a life preserve, head pulling back so he can crush his mouth against yours.
The kiss is all teeth and tongue, hungry and demanding. His tongue finds yours, exploring every inch of your mouth that he can reach and only breaking apart when lungs demand oxygen. Even then his lips still drag against yours, stubble rasping against your cheek, and then Noah’s pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth; thrusts growing erratic and sloppy.
Working to get an arm between the two of you, Noah clumsily slides his hand down between your bodies, fingers working to find your clit once more. “C’mon, pretty girl,” he groans against the side of your mouth, and you can feel the grin trying to work across his lips. “Lemme feel you come on this cock.”
You’re already close, but there’s something about hearing him say those words, about him demanding it, that pours gasoline on the fire already scorching through your veins. The hand on the back of his neck drops to grab at his shoulder, your fingers curling there and digging crescents into the skin while your other hand tugs at his hair sharp enough to have Noah hissing. All it takes is one more thrust and nimble fingers for you to tip over the edge; climax causing you to tense beneath him, your hand dropping from his shoulder so you can bite down on your knuckles to try and stay quiet.
Noah’s already erratic pace detonates entirely the moment your cunt squeezes around his cock. His face drops once more to bury against your neck as he groans, giving one, two more thrusts before you feel the throb that signals his own end. There’s a string of curses that escapes the brunette, his entire body shaking, thrusts only stopping when it becomes too much for him to bear. Dragging his hand back up between the two of you, it lands on your waist to give a gentle squeeze as Noah forces himself to look up at you once more.
“You okay?” He asks, and you can’t help but find it funny; his face is flushed and there’s sweat dripping down from the hair at his temple across his cheeks, and he asks if you’re okay?
“Yeah,” comes automatically, your fingers smoothing carefully over the divots you’d left in his shoulder in what you can only hope comes across as an apology. “You okay?”
A lopsided grin settles onto his face as he leans forward and presses a kiss to the tip of your nose.
“M’great, actually.”
“Good. Don’t crush me.”
Faux indignation etches onto his face as he stares down at you like you’ve insulted him. In retaliation, he lowers himself down onto you—not enough to crush you, but enough for you to feel some of his weight. You groan like you’ve truly been put out, yet your arms still wrap around his neck to keep him close.
“You’re a dick.”
“You like my dick.”
“Oh my god, that’s not what I said.”
He laughs at that, lips pressing against yours in a kiss that’s softer than any other he’s given you tonight.
“S’gonna be a mess when I pull out,” Noah warns, and you sigh because, yeah, you know.
“Then don’t pull out.”
Another laugh, softer this time, and he leans his forehead against yours.
“Yeah, you’re gonna hate that idea in thirty minutes.” Still, Noah’s lowering himself even more, then carefully trying his best to roll onto his back so that you’re on top without him pulling out. “But, alright. Let’s see how long this lasts.”
You give a content sound and let yourself melt into him, now taking your turn to bury your face into his neck, sleep already starting to creep in around the edges.
warnings: mentions of vomiting and getting sick, violence, blood.
summary: how long can you keep a secret from your friends? how long before the past catches up with you and drags your skeletons out of the closet and forces you to acknowledge them? unfortunately for noah, he’s about to find out—and something tells him that he isn’t going to like it.
an: this was a brain worm that made itself at home and refused to leave, so i’m hoping that by putting it into writing and doing something with it, i’ll actually be able to give it the love it deserves. i hope y’all enjoy it as much as you’ve enjoyed my other fics. this one is going to be a little different, as it focuses more on noah and the band than a reader situation. but hey, who knows what the future holds?
also - a huge thank you to @the-way-of-words for being an absolute sweetheart and encouraging me to actualize this idea.
word count: 1,041
“Motherfucker.”
It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that drinking on an empty stomach in a venue where the AC had decided to shit itself in the middle of August in the midwest was a bad idea, but fortunately for NASA, Noah wasn’t trying to launch anything into orbit: just making stupid ass decisions like always. The toilet he’s currently resting his forehead against doesn’t even have the decency to be cold, just this awful room temperature that has the brunette wondering how long the last person sat on it to radiate enough body heat into it to warm it up to gas station microwave levels of lukewarm. That thought alone is enough to have his stomach roiling once more, threatening more stomach acid and bile up into the back of his throat before he swallows it back down.
Yeah, maybe don’t think about that, dumbass.
Fate was kind enough to him that the bathroom was a single occupant one. At least he didn’t have to worry about someone stumbling in and busting open a stall next to him while he was still trying to scrap his dignity off the floor. Lifting a hand to push his hair back from his face, Noah does his best to ignore just how badly it’s shaking—because if he looks at it, if he notices it, he’s going to be pissed all over again. There’s an ache in his knees from the tile he’s been kneeling on for the last, what? Ten, fifteen minutes? Venue bathrooms are a liminal space where time stops having meaning.
Sucking at his teeth, Noah spits into the toilet after, remembering a line he’d heard from a friend growing up: Can’t be hungover if you keep drinking, dude. It’s all about the puke and rally. An unamused snort escapes him at the thought, a slight shake of the head following like that’d be enough to dislodge the memory, but all it does is make the room tilt at the edges and he immediately regrets it. Another heave threatens, stomach aching in that hollow, sore way that always follows after throwing up, and Noah momentarily debates whether he should sink two fingers down the back of his throat just to make sure there’s nothing else that will come up later.
A sharp rap of knuckles against the thin wood of the door disrails the thought before he even has time to act on it.
Groaning softly, he reaches up and presses the handle down to send the last remnants of a bad decision away before he pushes himself to his feet. “Occupied!” He yells, shuffling over toward the sink because he still has enough decency about him to wash his hands—and his mouth—out before joining civilized folks once more. A stretch, he thinks to himself, especially when half those fuckers are just as drunk as I am. Smacking the back of his hand against the faucet handle to push it up and on, Noah reaches his other hand beneath the automatic soap dispenser.
The mechanic whir goes.
Nothing comes out.
Dark brown eyes drag up to it and take in the way the soap bottle on the inside is crushed and crumpled: empty as his stomach.
“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”
Another knock sounds at the door, this more aggressive than the last.
“Holy shit, I said it was occupied!”
Sticking his hands beneath the ice-cold water—because of course it is—Noah pantomimes personal hygiene and then cups his palm to bring enough water to his mouth that he can swish and spit into the basin. Smacking the faucet handle back down to turn the water off, though it fails and a small trickle remains dripping, he simply rolls his eyes and then shambles the three feet to the door.
His fingers are curling around the handle when a third knock hits against the wood so hard it rattles in the frame. Jesus Christ, is this guy gonna shit his pants or what? Flicking the lock, Noah yanks the door open with enough force that there’s no way the move can be read as anything but aggressive, because what the fuck is wrong with this prick?
The person waiting on the other side of the door for him isn’t familiar in the face.
Nah, that would be too easy.
They’re familiar in presence. In that way that prey inherently knows a predator is standing before them: that sick, unnerving animal panic that starts at the base of your skull and works down all the way down to the tips of your fingers and your toes. Noah’s stomach turns for a third time in the span of ten minutes, but not for the same reasons it was rebelling earlier.
Scowling like he’s smelled something offensive, his lips pull back into a snarl.
“Michael.”
The man standing before him simply tilts his head in acknowledgment.
“Lucifer.”
“It’s Noah, cocksucker.”
Undeterred, the stranger simply steps back from the door to make room for Noah to exit.
“Inconsequential,” he replies, disdain dripping from every syllable of the single word. “With me. Now.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Noah leans against the door frame, eyes dragging lazily over the Archangel before he smirks.
“Oh, yeah? And what makes you think I’m gonna do that, hm?”
Before Noah has a chance to register what’s happening, Michael’s hand snaps out, fingers tangling in long strands and yanking his face down in the same movement that the Archangel’s knee comes up to meet his nose.
Warmth gushes from his nostrils as the world swims sickeningly around him. Disoriented, all the brunette can do is jerk his hands to his face to cover his nose, a litany of curses spilling out of him as he stumbles on his feet.
“My fucking nose!”
“I said now.”
He isn’t given a chance to retaliate or make another smart-ass comment before there’s a hand on the back of his neck, forcing him toward the rear exit of the venue.
“My friends—” Noah tries to argue, one hand still covering his nose while the other attempts to reach out and grab at the door frame to keep from being dragged out.
“You think they’ll miss you?” Michael hisses out. “No one ever misses you.”
