sashabravodiary

Latest Posts by sashabravodiary

Summary: A slip of the tongue during breakfast reveals Noah’s true feelings towards you.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x f!reader.

CW: absolute fluff and sweetness, a little touch on self doubt, enchanted!noah is crazy in love, declaration of love.

This wasn’t how Noah had intended to say it, not as a slip of the tongue when he went to leave for the day, but something about it felt so natural, a reflex that followed the usual string of goodbye kisses. Always multiple, because he can never stop at just one, not when he knows he’ll be away from you for a while. He always has to go into double digits.

It’s one of those rare mornings when you have the day off and he doesn’t. He has a full schedule of meetings pulling him away for the next few hours, but when he wakes, he finds you in the kitchen—bowl tucked beneath your arm as you whisk the eggs you’ve meticulously cracked.

You’d shown him the trick not long after you started staying over, back when breakfast in bed became a thing for the both of you—one bowl to crack each egg into, and a second to pour it into afterward.

“It’s easier to fish out eggshells from one egg than from a whole mix,” you told him, a little tidbit he’s tucked away and kept using since, especially when you’re not around.

You’re humming as you go—a melody that doesn’t sound familiar but is soft enough to lull him into a sense of peace. He watches the slow sway of your hips, the way you seem dreamlike, lost in your own little world. You look too serene for him to disturb, but when he does, he’s careful—stealthy—as not to catch you off guard. His hands settle at your hips as he steps up behind you, and your hum shifts into one of quiet acknowledgment as you instinctively lean back into him.

He gives your hips a gentle squeeze in greeting, hands sliding around to meet at your front, settling just over your stomach as his head dips. He can’t resist the bare glimpse of your shoulder, where your oversized tee slips off slightly, revealing skin he’s already kissing—nipping gently before trailing his lips up the column of your neck.

“Morning to you too,” you muse, your smile bleeding into your voice. His lips curl into a grin against your warm skin, pressing one final kiss to the nape of your neck as he moves to nuzzle beneath the messy bun you’ve tied up to keep your hair out of your face.

“Morning,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep and unused until now. You’d slipped out of bed before he even woke—a small, selfish disappointment in waking to cold sheets after becoming so accustomed to your warmth beside him.

“What’s for breakfast?” he asks, peeking over your shoulder as you pour the egg mixture into the pan, completely unfazed by the way he clings to you, holding close, just breathing you in—a scent and comfort that makes his chest flutter.

“Omelette,” you reply, turning your head just enough to catch his eye and press a light kiss to his jaw. “I figured you’d be hungry and want to eat before you left.”

Ideally, he would eat. Usually, he’s dragging himself out of bed closer to noon than early morning, and while his stomach grumbles, the idea of actually eating something this early doesn’t sit right with him.

Still, he presses his mouth to the side of your head, murmuring a quiet, “Thank you,” before slipping his arms from around you and stepping aside.

“Coffee?” he asks, reaching up into the cupboard for his usual mug.

“In the pot. I made some fresh,” you reply with a nod, folding the omelette in half and flipping it completely to finish cooking through.

It all feels so domestic, watching you move around his kitchen. Not that it’s an unfamiliar sight, he’s seen it before, even in your own home, but something about it stirs something deeper in him today. You usually spend your Sunday mornings wrapped up in bed together, dragging out the time before finally rolling out for a slow, lazy lunch—time you both savour, and yet now, watching you like this, he realises he wants more of it. More of this. More of you.

He’s already managed to convince you to take your first vacation together—something real couples do, and most days, he finds himself seesawing between what might be ‘too fast’ and what simply feels right, because with you, even the things that should feel fast don’t. They feel natural. Safe. He’s never experienced anything like it before. Never allowed himself to let his guard down like this, not with anyone else, other than you—you make it easy. You make it feel safe to be known.

“Noah!”

You calling his name snaps him out of his thoughts, pulling him back from wherever he’d drifted. That’s when he notices the coffee spilling over the counter.

“Ah, shit,” he mutters, grabbing a nearby rag to wipe it up. Just as he finishes, a car horn blares from outside, drawing his attention to the front window.

“That’s Jolly—he said he was gonna swing by and grab me,” Noah explains, tossing the now coffee-soaked rag into the sink.

“But… your breakfast?” you ask, your voice small as you hold up the plate, presenting the omelette to him like it’s an award, and in his mind, it is one. The gesture alone makes him regret having to dip out so early.

“You have it,” he says gently. “I’ll be back after lunch—we can go out for something together, yeah?”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, then slips his fingers beneath your chin to tilt your face up, stealing the many kisses he needs to sustain him while you’re apart. More than food or air, he’d argue—this is what he needs.

Another blare of the horn breaks the moment, and he pulls away with a reluctant groan. “Okay, I gotta go.” And just like that, the three words tumble out—soft, uncalculated, and entirely unintentional:

“I love you.”

It doesn’t hit him right away—what he said or the gravity of it. Not until he’s already in the car.

He doesn’t even know he left you standing there, dumbfounded, the words still swirling in your head. Spoken like a reflex. Like they’d always been sitting there, waiting for the right moment to fall into place.

For the entire duration of his meeting, Noah is unable to focus. His eyes keep flickering to his phone, and the lack of a message from you sends him into a quiet spiral.

Did you hate that he said it? Was it too soon? Had he come on too strong? Did you not feel the same way?

He wouldn’t blame you. It’s a lot—he’s a lot. He knows he can be hard to love. Maybe you haven’t reached that point yet. Maybe you weren’t ready.

Except he has.

He’s been falling for a while now, even if he hadn’t said the words out loud until this morning. He’s felt it in his chest—the way being near you makes him feel both peaceful and fluttery, a quiet storm of butterflies beneath the surface, but it’s the calm that stands out most. The sense of normalcy.

You’ve never asked anything of him. Never expected the version of him that exists onstage, the performer, the persona. You’ve never demanded he be some dancing monkey just to earn your affection. You’ve seen through all of that.

You’ve accepted the softer, less put-together parts of him with a grace that catches him off guard, and more than that, you’ve offered yourself in return. You lean on him when your days are heavy, and he carries that with a quiet pride.

He’s your safe place, the same way you’ve become his.

By the end of the meeting, he’s out like a shot, nerves stretched thin with the need to come home. The silence from you feels too loud now, too heavy. He’s convinced he has gone too far.

Noah even tells Jolly he’ll Uber home—he doesn’t want to waste a single second letting the Swede take him on one of his infamous detours.

When he finally arrives home, he steps through the door tentatively, calling out for you, but there’s no response. A part of him aches, worried that maybe you’d left, but then he sees your shoes still neatly placed by the door, and relief settles in his chest. He takes the stairs two at a time, following the muffled sound of the TV coming from his room.

When he gets there, he opens the door to find you tucked back into his bed, wearing one of his shirts, the soft glow of the TV illuminating your form. One of the anime series you’ve both been watching recently is playing quietly in the background.

As Noah steps into the room, you shift, moving toward him. Your eyes are wide as you settle on your knees near the center of the bed, watching him approach. He walks to the edge and reaches out for you.

“I was worried you’d left,” he confesses, voice soft, his gaze flicking away from yours.

But you reach out and take his hands in yours, gently tugging him closer. His hands are larger, easily enveloping yours, but it’s a comfort to you both, how naturally you fit there, like you belong.

Finally, you take a steady breath and ask, “Did you mean it? What you said?”

And without missing a beat, Noah replies, “Every word.”

tagged: @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke  @geminigirlfromfinland @fuck1ng-queen @xxkittenkissesxx @lacy1986 @ami--gami @floodflameschosen @dominuslunae @tosoundlessdarkistare @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lonelydragonlady @th4t-em0-k1d @amelia-acero @dollieomens  @sitkowski @athenexe @trvshdxddy @collapsedglasshouses @overmydeadbodysblog @xmads-omensx @ajordan2020 @astronoids @courta13 @oobleoob @bluehairpunklol @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @swissy23 @i-love-the-smell-of-your-blood @kenjipepsi1 @birdie-in-arcadia @blackcherrywhiskey @saythatuwill @concretenoah @death-ofpeace-ofmind @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @blade-dressed-in-red @limerinseme @lilgarbitch @pipidoll @heyyoplayer @iconic-taurus @flowery-mess @jesuisunchaton @bloody-spades @bluestdai @respectfulrebel @dravenskye

I don’t drink caffeine to wake up. I wake up to drink caffeine.

x

Imagine sitting on Folio's lap while taking hits of a joint he rolled. Imagine being so fuzzy headed, that you start grinding on his hard on and beg to ride his cock. Whimpering as you lower yourself onto his thick cock stretching you out, the joint making you extra sensitive. So focused on how his cock throbs in you and the feeling of his veins against your walls. Going so slow Folio can no longer handle it and grabbing you by your hips and pounds into you, making you feel even more lightheaded as he fucks you until you're a drooling, moaning mess.

I think I’m the one drooling over this thot 🫠 intox kink go brrr.

CW: intox kink, unprotected sex.

It’s not unusual for you two to get high together, or even to make out while doing so, but God, the moment you feel his hard cock pressed against you through his jeans, you’re practically grinding on him like a cat in heat, just purring and begging for Folio to fuck you.

“Please, baby, please… I need you so bad.”

Your clit is throbbing, and that’s through the fabric of your clothes. You’re not even touching him properly yet, but you’re already so worked up, so needy, and he’s such a fucking tease. Every time you lean in close to kiss or plead, he offers you another hit instead, grinning like the smug bastard he is because he knows you’re right where he wants you.

It doesn’t take much coaxing, soon enough, he’s guiding you down onto his cock, helping you sink onto him inch by inch. You feel everything. Every twitch, every throb, every little shift as your walls flutter and clench around him. You moan, gasp, slowly starting to rock your hips, desperate just to feel him, to feel how deep he fills you, how he stretches you open like he owns you.

“Is this what you needed?” he taunts, giving you one last hit before the joint becomes the last thing on either of your minds. His hips start bucking up beneath you, savouring the way your pussy grips him, inviting him deeper.

It’s slow at first, almost torturous, until you beg him.

“F-fuck me. Really fuck me.”

That’s all it takes. He groans, gripping your hips tight and holding you in place as he begins to pound up into you. The room is filled with moans, wet slaps of skin, and between it all, he’s begging you to kiss him, but when you’re too far gone to even respond, his mouth finds your neck instead, latching onto every tender spot, marking you in pretty bruised shades. A reminder that you belong to him just as much as he belongs to you.

P with Davis please? 🥺 Like maybe reader has been super bratty and he’s totally done with the attitude?

NSFW Alphabet - 900 Followers Celebration!

P (pin) | 🔞 SMUT 18+ only! | Thank you for the request ❤️

You could feel the paint on the wall scratching your face as you cheeks pressed against it.

You and Davis didn't even make it to the bedroom before he was pushing your front against the wall right after entering your home. He currently had both of your hands pinned above your head. One of his large palm able to hold both of your hands and make you unable to move.

"I don't see you being so fucking chatty right now", he said in the shell of your ear, breath fanning across you neck and raising goosebumps on your skin.

You stayed quiet.

"Couldn't shut the fuck up when talking to that guy at the bar, and now the cat's got your tongue?"

You remember it vividly. The guy approaching you at the bar when you went to grab yourself another drink. He struck up conversation, and you knew that you should've dismissed him. But the burning of your boyfriend's eyes on you, the feeling of jealousy taking over the place, made you feel bolder.

Or stupider.

"I wasn't doing anything", you argue back, voice quiet and almost indistinguishable due to your cheeks being pressed against the wall.

"I could see the flirtiness dripping from your voice as you talked to him", he said, pressing his front harder against your back. The feeling of his hard on the swell of your ass telling you that he was enjoying this more than he was mad at you. "But it's ok, baby", he brushed your hair away from your neck, peppering a few kisses there. "I have no problem reminding you who you belong to."

A harsh slap resounded around the quiet home, and your yelp followed right after. Your ass is stinging from the impact, and your hands fight against his hold, but to no avail.

You know you're in for a good one tonight when he smooths his hand over the reddening flesh, before delivering another one.

"Now, let's see if you can find your voice again and count to ten for me", he instructs. "And if you stop, we start all over again."

Tag List: @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mysterygirl-srl @lacy1986 @dream-machine-love @theanarchymuse95 @missduffsblog @xmads-omensx @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @chey-h @pipidoll @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @kissestomyomens @hedonist-k1l @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @daemontargaryenwife @h0riz0nsiren @astronoids @flowery-mess @renegadebirch @ashlynnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn @jesuisunchaton @carrieontillmay @bloody-spades @amelia-acero @death-ofpeace-ofmind @saythatuwill @kenjipepsi1 @concretejunglefm @renvconta19 @artbyamixx @13-11-95-blog @ichoosetenderomens @oobleoob @concreteangel92

If you haven't been tagged, it's because your blog doesn't mention your age, or it is empty!

Just Breathe ( Poly!Omens )

Summary: Jolly buys Folio a casual collar, a way for the world to know that he was Jolly's. It ends up serving a double purpose as a very effective grounding tool. Pairing: Jolly Karlsson x Nick Folio Warnings: Casual kink, Description of a panic attack Word Count: 864 header by: saradika-graphics ; divider by sitkowski

Jolly enjoys giving gifts to his boys. It's not always planned. Sometimes he'll be walking past a shop and something will catch his eye that he thinks one of them will enjoy. The chain necklace he has in a subtle black box immediately made him think of Folio. It's nothing fancy, just a silver chain with a little weight to it, something that might bring Folio some comfort. Jolly found the lock about twenty minutes later and the set was complete in his eyes. A subtle way to let others know that Folio was collared, that he was Jolly's.

It took Folio a moment to realize what the necklace meant. It wasn't until he'd seen the lock ( "Nicky" engraved on one side, "Joakim" on the other ) that it seemed to click. His eyes widened and he let out a soft gasp that made Jolly chuckle. He picked the necklace up, his thumb running a long each link of the chain before brushing against the lock like it was the most precious gift he'd ever gotten.

"You were gone for two hours."

Jolly snorted at how incredulous Folio sounded. "You wanted something you could wear every day right?"

"Well yeah. Of course."

"Surprise."

Folio laughed softly, and Jolly's expression softened almost immediately. The drummer started to put the necklace on but he paused. His cheeks flushed slightly as his gaze lifted to meet Jolly's.

"Can you put it on for me?"

Jolly's smile widened and he nodded, reaching to take the necklace from Folio. He unhooked the clasp, putting it on so the lock sat at the base of Folio's throat. His fingers ghosted over the lock before they slipped under the chain, giving it a slight tug. His head tilted to the side as Folio seemed to settle, his eyes sliding shut as he took a deep breath.

"Looks good on you pup," Jolly murmured.

Folio's chin lifted a little, looking proud despite the way his cheeks flushed. "Now everyone knows I'm yours."

"All mine pup. No one else's."

Post show adrenaline was a tricky slope for Folio to navigate. More often than not, the crash just made him tired. It would give him just enough energy to walk to the van before immediately falling asleep until they reached the hotel. Sometimes he'd wake up on his own. Other times, Jolly would have to half carry him up to their room and he'd wake up hours later with no idea how he'd gotten where he was.

Then there were nights like tonight, where the adrenaline refused to wear off and Folio felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin. His normal restless energy turned into something closer to a caged animal who needed to be let loose. He couldn't stop pacing and each breath felt like a struggle to fill his lungs with enough air to be considered hyperventilating. Tonight, his heart was racing so hard he was pretty sure it was going to explode.

Jolly noticed. He always noticed.

Folio felt like he blinked and Jolly was a few steps away from him. A soft whimper left him and Jolly's hand lifted to rest on the back of his neck.

"Nicky, can you look at me?" Jolly's voice is soft and calm. Folio's gaze snaps to him and Jolly's smile is soft. "Take a few breaths for me pup."

Folio tries. He really does, but each breath feels like his chest is too tight to expand. A low whine leaves him and something seems to register in Jolly's eyes.

"I'm gonna give your necklace a little tug. Is that alright?" Folio nods and Jolly hooks the chain with his index finger, giving it a gentle tug.

Just like the first time he'd worn the necklace and every moment since, the tug on Folio's collar helps ground him. The tightness in his chest eases just enough to let him take a full breath.

"Again."

Jolly nodded, giving Folio a moment to catch his breath, his finger still holding onto the chain. This time, he gave it a little harder of a pull, using it to pull Folio a little closer to him.

Folio moved without a thought, letting himself be pulled in before he realized he was in motion. The tension eased even more and that restless energy seemed to finally, finally ebb. He stumbled the last few steps, burying his face in Jolly's chest, wrapping his arms around Jolly's waist.

A soft hum left Jolly as he pressed a kiss to the top of Folio's head. "Deep breaths Nicky. I got you. You're okay."

Folio's grip tightened around Jolly's waist, fingers gripping Jolly's shirt like the piece of fabric was his lifeline. "I'm sorry. I didn't...couldn't calm down."

Jolly frowned before reaching down to tilt up Folio's chin, making the drummer look him in the eye. "You have nothing to apologize for pup. It's alright. How're you feeling now?"

"Better. Thanks."

Jolly nodded, pressing a kiss to Folio's forehead, nose, cheeks and lips. "Good. Think we got a new way to ground you now eh?"

Folio grinned, laughing at each consecutive kiss. "Yeah. Yeah I guess we do."

taglist: @sitkowski, @jestersnotebook, @concretejunglefm, @ami-gami, @fadingangelwisp

being a boring uncool insane mutual is a hard job but someone's got to do it

He’s so sassy and it’s so hot🥵

♱ ⠀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐔

Father Noah, the local priest, is a loyally devout servant of God—yet he desires nothing more than to become a worshipper of you, the town’s new resident. From the moment you walked through the doors of his church, you had his full attention, and now, he wants nothing more than to offer you his love and unwavering devotion.

Pairing: priest!Noah Sebastian x dom f!reader.

CW: smut, corruption kink, religious themes, sub/dom dynamic, power dynamics, blasphemy, priest kink, slight manipulation.

*in order of occurrence.

♱ ⠀Corrupting priest sub!noah ♱ ⠀Animal shelter with priest sub!noah ♱ ⠀Deadly sins with priest sub!noah ♱ ⠀After hours with priest sub!noah ♱ ⠀Cuffing priest sub!noah to a st. andrews cross ♱ ⠀Dom drop with (priest) sub!noah ♱ ⠀First time anal play with sub priest!noah ♱ ⠀Shame and feelings of unworthiness with sub priest!noah ♱ ⠀Charity drive dance with sub priest!noah

thots

could you share a noah x m! reader blurb or some kind of little headcanons <3 (i <3 your writing sm)

hi bb tysm !! here's a little noah x m!reader thing! 💕 I hope you enjoy and thank you @thenmaybehellaintsobadafterall for posting the perfect bestfriend!noah pictures that fit this <3

CW: just complete and utter fluff, boys pining for each other, being flirty and cute, mentions of alcohol

The house party is busier than you ever anticipated, despite Noah insisting he’d only invited a few people. You figure his roommates and friends must’ve added extras to the list, because by the time you arrive, there’s a sea of unfamiliar faces weaving through the house—heads nodding, bodies swaying to the music blasting from a speaker in one corner, while scattered groups linger in every available space.

You’re about ready to give up on finding Noah when he spots you, calling out your name and reaching for you. “There you are! I thought you weren’t gonna make it.”

His long, tattooed fingers graze your arm, and if that isn’t enough, he tugs you closer, wrapping one of his long limbs around you. Even though your height puts you just above his armpit, he still towers over you, still makes you feel small as he pulls you against his side and tucks you there.

“You’re staying with me tonight,” he murmurs—no slur in his voice. If he’s been drinking, it hasn’t hit him yet.

“Okay.” You say it quietly, with a hint of nervous laughter, because truthfully, big gatherings like this aren’t your thing, but being pressed up against Noah makes you feel something else entirely—comfortable, at ease.

His arm stays around you, and while your own rests loosely at his waist, it’s him who pulls it tighter around him as he chats with Davis and one of his roommates—Jesse, you think.

For a moment, you swear his fingers interlace with yours. Just a split second. Then he pulls away, and your hand settles at his hip, gripping gently to steady yourself.

He doesn’t loosen his hold around your shoulders, even as he reaches for a can someone offers him—then brings it to your lips first, offering you a sip before he takes one himself.

“It’s disgusting.” Davis makes a face as he glances over at you, silently warning you not to take a sip, but Noah just scoffs and drinks from the can anyway.

You shake your head, asking for something else—anything that won’t make you wonder if that’s what Noah’s mouth tastes like right now.

When you dare to peek up at him, you catch the way his tongue swipes across his lips, the tip barely grazing the scruffy facial hair he’s been growing out. It’s rough around the edges, but he still looks good—he always has.

It makes you think back to your last conversation, when he was complaining about how patchy and awful his facial hair looked compared to yours. You teased him relentlessly until he had you pinned on the bed, and you swear there was something in that moment—a flicker of heat, a quiet ache, the first stirrings of something deeper.

Looking at him now, you wonder if he feels it too, that same twisting excitement low in your stomach. The green hoodie clings snug to his frame, somehow softening his features and making it even harder to look away.

You’re staring—obviously staring, you’re sure of it, but the moment self-awareness hits, you blink hard, shake your head, and try to bat away the thoughts crowding your mind.

“Hey! Hey!” Michael calls out, a handful of girls trailing behind him and a gleeful look on his face. “Who wants to play spin the bottle?”

It sounds juvenile—something most people would roll their eyes at, wondering why a bunch of twenty-somethings would bother with a game like that, but the guys around you are quick to agree, including Noah, whose arm still hasn’t moved from around you.

“You gonna join?” he asks, glancing down at you, and your heart hammers in your chest. For a brief moment, you swear his gaze flickers to your mouth, just like it did the other day when he had you pinned against his bed.

“And risk kissing you?” you scoff, trying to play it off, but all that does is make Noah pull you even closer, making obnoxiously loud kissy sounds near your ear.

“Fine! Fine! I’ll play!” you relent, laughing despite yourself.

You feel the distinct press of a kiss against the side of your head, soft and quick, before he pulls back and helps usher the group into the far corner of the kitchen, where the game is already starting to take shape.

You’re waiting for your turn, your gaze flickering between the spinning bottle and Noah, who’s seated opposite you. Each time you hear him laugh at a near miss—when the spinner ends up kissing someone on either side of him—you swear you can feel your insides melt.

You’ve long been aware of the effect his voice has on you, but now even his laugh does it too. It’s unfair, how this silly schoolboy crush has gotten so out of hand, turning you into someone who fawns over him more openly than you ever did in the beginning.

It’s always in moments like this that you try to convince yourself he hasn’t noticed—that he doesn’t catch the way your eyes linger a second too long. That is, until he does catch you. Every time he does, he flashes you a smile and says, “Baby boy”—attached to a question, maybe, though whatever follows gets swallowed by the music and the roaring chatter of the crowd around you.

Still, you latch onto the only words that matter, because every time you hear them, something inside you flutters.

He only calls you that. Any other time, you might tell yourself it’s just a broad pet name, nothing special, but you’ve never heard him say it to anyone else. In fact, you’re almost certain—he’s never given anyone a nickname. Just you.

When your turn to spin the bottle finally comes, you brace yourself—scanning the group, calculating the exact force you’ll need for it to land on him.

It doesn’t work.

The bottle skims past Noah—just like it had for everyone else, but unlike them, you’re not drunk enough to giggle your way through the disappointment or get excited about kissing someone else. Instead, you feel deflated and mildly terrified that you’ll have to kiss anyone at all.

You can’t back out now, no matter how much you want to.

It takes everything in you not to tense up when the brunette the bottle landed on leans in and presses her mouth to yours. It’s sloppier than you expected—her tongue trying to push into what was meant to be a quick, polite peck.

It lasts only seconds, but they stretch endlessly. When you finally pull away, you discreetly wipe your mouth and glance across the circle, your eyes finding Noah again.

You wish—desperately—that it had been his mouth on yours. That it had been his tongue trying to get in. You wouldn’t have stopped him.

You spend the whole night wishing it had been him, especially when you watch the girl you kissed spin the bottle and have it land on him.

Jealousy stabs through your chest, sharp and sudden, and you force a smile along with everyone else cheering her on. It’s all in good fun, you try to convince yourself, sitting on your hands to stop yourself from reaching across the circle to kiss him in her place.

You watch his mouth the moment theirs meet, your heart heavy in your chest, rising to your throat. It’s not a real kiss—he’s holding back. God, please let him be holding back.

The seconds stretch, long and unbearable. When they finally pull apart, you release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Then, from across the room, Michael yells, “Who wants to play Seven Minutes in Heaven?”

Your eyes dart to Noah’s, and when they meet, there’s a silent agreement to play. A silent prayer that the two of you will be picked together.

By some miracle—or maybe because of Noah whispering in Davis’s ear—you both end up in the closet together.

The space is tight, mostly due to the clutter: items stacked on shelves, hanging from the door, or scattered across the floor, but you don’t really need space, not when Noah’s hands are already resting at your waist, keeping you close.

His breath is warm as it ghosts across your skin, and even in the darkness, you can see him gazing down at you. You can just make out the shift in his dark eyes, something unspoken lingering there.

You swallow, try to clear your throat and speak, but it’s Noah who speaks first.

“I wanted it to be you back then.”

His confession hits you—hard, fast, and completely unexpected. You blink, thankful he can’t see your expression in the dark.

“You… you what?” You ask for clarification, like you didn’t just hear him perfectly, even though you did.

“The kiss,” he says. “I wanted it to be you.”

For a second, you wonder if he’s had more to drink than you thought, but you saw him, he barely finished the can.

Then his head dips, and you feel the brush of his nose against yours, his breath warm against your lips, and the unmistakable tug at your shirt as he pulls you closer, holding you in place.

His mouth is soft when it meets yours. Soft and cautious, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. You feel the prickle of his facial hair against your own, and it sends a quiver through you, but you melt into it, hands pressing to his chest, welcoming the kiss and returning it fully.

It starts tender, but quickly shifts—something deeper, hungrier, like he’s been holding back far longer than he wants to admit.

Your hand finds the side of his neck, cradling it as you let him in, welcoming his tongue. You don’t even care about the taste of the beer—it’s sweet and bitter, unmistakably him, and it’s intoxicating. It takes everything in you not to moan aloud.

You wonder, briefly, if this is just for the game, for the playful thrill of Seven Minutes in Heaven, until he presses his forehead to yours, breath shallow, and whispers:

“Can we do that again?”

n + folio

NSFW Alphabet - 900 Followers Celebration!

N (no), this is bestfriend!folio, by the way! | 🔞 SMUT 18+ only! | Thank you for the request 💜

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The conversation started with random topics. It always did when you came over to Folio's house on a Friday night after work.

It was usually to decompress from the week you both had, drink a couple beers, watch some game that's on the TV at the moment, and smoke a joint that he always has ready even before you arrive.

He started talking about the new drum stuff that he bought to try out how it sounds like, and how they can use it on the new album. He knows you don't understand a thing about drums, despite being his friend for years, and him trying to teach you countless times. But you're a good listener, and he's thankful for that.

Somehow, the topic of how hard he hits the drums, turns into the topic of how his hands could probably deliver a mean slap.

You did start saying that his arms were probably stronger than other's, since, you know, he spends hours drumming away, and almost every night when he's on tour.

It's him who turns it into something dirty.

And all of a sudden, you're both telling each other if you like or not being slapped in bed.

"I don't know. There's just something about girls slapping guys that's so hot for me", Folio says, taking a swig of his beer.

"You'd let a girl slap you, then?", you ask, finding his statement a little odd. Bu then again, it's Folio, so you don't expect much else from him.

"Of course I would", he says, as if the choice is obvious.

"I don't think I could ever slap someone in bed.", you wonder out loud, never really having given the topic any thought before now.

"Angel, you wouldn't even slap someone out of the bedroom, let alone in the bedroom."

Folio always knew you were too kind for these things. It wasn't in your nature being violent, not even in a fully consensual situation.

"It's just so weird hitting people, and I don't understand the point of it", you explain further.

"You wouldn't do it even the other person asked you to?"

You think over your answer for a second, but the two of you already know what you're going to say.

"No, I wouldn't. It wouldn't make me feel comfortable, even with the knowledge that it's for pleasure."

Folio hums in understanding. He honestly thinks you're so cute for this. And he finds himself a little amazed at how good you are at expressing what you want - and don't want - in the bedroom.

"That's completely fair. But what about the other way around?", he asks, and you frown in confusion. "Would you ever want someone to slap you?"

He has half a mind to think that he's maybe taking this a little too far. But he's too curious now to back off.

"On the face is a hard no", you shake your head vigorously. "But in other places, I'm ok with it."

"Are you just ok with it, or do you really like it?", he asks. "And I agree on the face thing, yours is too pretty to endure such disrespect."

You laugh at his remark before answering the previous question.

"I like it if it's not too hard. I like if it's like, praising in some way, you know? Like, a 'you're doing so well' slap, instead of a 'I want to hurt you' slap", you explain yourself and he thinks it makes complete sense. "Do you do it with your partners?", you throw in a questions of your own.

"If they want it, yeah, I do. But it's not something I do all the time", he answers and you only nod.

A silence settles over the two of you. It's not uncomfortable in any way. You think you and Folio are past the stage where these conversations makes the atmosphere weird.

"Did you see that video of that weird fish they found in a lake? I think it went viral on TikTok?", he suddenly changes the topic and you burst out laughing at the absurdity of what he just said.

And then you tell him that, no, you have not watched the video of the weird fish they found in a lake.

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Folio with red nails, just imagine how happy he is while you’re holding his hand, slowly applying the polish, and then think about how steady his hand is when he does yours in return 🥹

He's just so adorable when he does this. He probably even sticks his tongue out while he tries to get the polish on evenly. And then he intertwines your hands to admire how it looks.

But I wonder why the red color in the first place. I can definitely picture him with black nails, but red... does something to my brain. Is that his favorite color? Was he high when he agreed to this? Or is he just an obedient sub who'll do anything to be so good for you?

lexi, hi!! we moved on too quickly from folio with red nails. think about him too much. what was that

hi bb! 💕 I may or may not need a reminder because 👀 I'm having little thots about the potential of this 🤭

lexi, hi!! we moved on too quickly from folio with red nails. think about him too much. what was that

hi bb! 💕 I may or may not need a reminder because 👀 I'm having little thots about the potential of this 🤭

That post about casual kink has me thinking about puppy!Folio wearing a chain necklace instead, maybe with a subtle little lock on it. Something a partner could just hook their finger around and tug ever so slightly just randomly. Just to watch his eyes slide shut, the way his brain shifts into pup space for that brief moment.

literally the first time I'm seeing a video of this moment, I've only ever seen the same two pictures

whined. whimpered. cried. moaned. mewled.

Tell me what's mine and tell me what's yours Why I never got a say, never got a choice?

I'M STILL HERE. SEND HELP BECAUSE I'M ABOUT TO DIE

slut era (overthinking, ruined sleep schedule, constant feeling of loneliness and existential emptiness)

wanna come over & cry in the shower with me

“Can You Feel My Heart” VEVO UK GO show | bring me the horizon | 2013

Leaving this here. Goodnight

Ive been on survival mode for so long, I forgot how to live.

daily fave folio 💕

This picture is doing shit to my brain! Omg 🤯🤯🤯🤯