delicioushottubpeanut - Tumblr blog

[delicioushottubpeanut]

Being a girl is: wanting to go to bed early but deciding to just get on tumblr/wattpad/Ao3 for a little bit and then end up finding a fic series that you really like and read until well past your usual bedtime then keeping on because it’s already past your bedtime. Then being mad when you wake up in the morning because you overslept your timer.

[delicioushottubpeanut]

i made nine of these.

[delicioushottubpeanut]

The Bet (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Word count: 4.4K

Summary: butcher leaves you to keep an eye on soldier boy and things become interesting when a deck of cards gets involved

Tags: (18+), enemies to lovers (not exactly but kinda), canon-typical behavior, soldier boy being soldier boy (yes that’s a warning), humor/comedy, strip poker, bets, kissing, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, table sex, surprise ending

A/N: been wanting to write for a jensen character for a while and got inspired rewatching the boys. the character is such an ass but I can’t help but be into him lol

Cross-posted to ao3 • the boys masterlist • writing masterlist

“We’ll be back in a bit,” Butcher announced, stepping in the direction of the door. He looked between you and Hughie, as if still trying to decide which ‘we’ he wanted. “Come on, lad,” he addressed the latter. Hughie seemed relieved, eyeing Soldier Boy wearily before standing and joining Butcher.

Hughie gave you an apologetic look, while Butcher pointed at you and said, “you—keep an eye on him.” He pointed at the supe, as if it wasn’t obvious.

You scoffed, narrowing your eyes at Butcher. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“No,” Butcher replied casually, ushering Hughie out the door before he himself attempted to step out. You got to your feet and caught the door before he could shut it. Butcher let out a dramatic sound and cocked his head as he looked down at you.

You didn’t find him intimidating, not anymore. You had squared up against the man more than once. Hell, you thought Butcher respected you more for it.

“You have a problem?” he asked, baiting you.

“He’s gonna try and fuck me,” you said bluntly—albeit under your breath.

Butcher scoffed out a laugh, seeming actually amused. He also knew it was true. Ever since Soldier Boy had laid his eyes on you, he’d been gunning for you. Whether it was lewd comments or hungry gazes, it was obvious to everyone. It wasn’t like he was trying to hide it one bit.

“Well, don’t let him then,” Butcher offered in a mocking tone.

Butcher wouldn’t have left you with the man if he thought you’d actually get hurt, you knew that. And it’s not like the supe scared you—at least not for that reason. The only one who seemed outwardly uncomfortable with his behavior was Hughie. You could handle him, but being alone in his company wasn’t an ideal way to spend your afternoon.

“Gee, thanks,” you replied sarcastically.

“Hey lady, I’m a gentleman,” Soldier Boy piped up in a gruff, annoyed voice. He seemed genuinely offended.

“See?” Butcher said in that stupid, I told you so tone. “Like I said, we’ll be back.”

With an annoyed huff, you pulled your hand from the door and allowed the man to pull it shut in your face. You caught his victorious smirk right before. Everything was a showdown with Butcher it seemed, and boy did he love to win.

“So,” Soldier Boy started as you turned back to him. “Are you gonna be a bitch to me this whole time? Just ‘cause I paid you a few compliments?”

You scoffed and shook your head, wondering how he thought saying shit like, “your tits look great in that shirt,” counted as a compliment. Whatever, he wasn’t going to change and you weren’t going to bother yourself with lecturing the stubborn asshole. You and the boys needed him as a weapon, not as a politically correct member of society. You’d burden yourself with whipping him into shape after he took care of Homelander.

“We’re gonna end up with a few hours to kill,” you noted as a change of topic, looking around the room.

You could hear the smirk in his voice when Soldier Boy said, “if you’re looking for suggestions, I have a few ideas.”

You rolled your eyes, but glossed over it. He was attractive and even charismatic—you couldn’t deny that—but he seemed to counter that with the crudeness of his personality. You spotted a deck of cards and grabbed it. “How’s your poker face?” you asked, holding up the cards for him to see.

“Texas hold ‘em?” He actually seemed into the idea.

“Sure, why not,” you decided.

You sat down across from him at the table where he’d been sitting. He pushed aside wrappers and pill bottles to make room. You began to deal and laid out the cards.

“What, you don’t have any chips?” Soldier Boy asked, looking at you expectantly.

“Where would I have chips at?”

“I don’t know, poker was your idea. You can’t play poker without betting.”

“I mean, you can,” you argued half-heartedly. Being alone with him was exhausting already.

“If you’re fucking boring you can,” he shot back. Suddenly, a look you could only describe as devious crossed his face. “We could play strip poker.”

At first, your instinct was to tell him hell no. You should’ve, honestly. Another part of you wondered if it would be fun— it was that impulsive, indelicate side of you that made you work so well with the boys. You must’ve been curious, crazy, or both to agree. But, you did.

“Fine.”

He practically beamed, grinning in victory. You were already starting to regret it. “Now it’s a real game. Gotta have something on the line.”

Even as he said that, you had an inkling that the stakes would be a bit higher for you. And as the two of you played and clothing began to disappear from the both of you, you suspected he wanted to be naked in front of you almost as much as he wanted you to be naked in front of him. That became obvious when he took off his shirt and pants after his first two losses. You’d opted to remove a sock after yours.

Still, the two of you carried on a conversation during the game. It was a shock to you when you began to relax around him. It was even more surprising when you laughed at some stupid joke he made at Hughie and Butcher’s expense.

“You seem like most of the brains behind the operation,” Soldier Boy continued, laying the charm on thick. You could spot it clear as day, but even you weren’t totally immune to it as you grew to actually enjoy the game.

“More like their wrangler,” you replied with a small laugh.

“Maybe they’re too busy grabbing at each other's dicks,” Soldier Boy suggested. It pulled another laugh from you despite the offensiveness of it. Being around the boys for so long you’d developed a darker sense of humor.

A smile crossed his face, seeming proud of himself as he watched you react.

“You startin’ to hate me less?” he asked suddenly, like he just had to know right then.

“What?” you replied with a small chuckle, hardly registering the question for a minute. “Does it matter?”

It seemed to pain him when he replied unconvincingly, “no,” with a scoff. “Well, maybe.”

“Wow, that must’ve been hard,” you commented sarcastically. “Does my opinion actually matter to you?”

“What, a guy can’t make conversation?” Soldier Boy was getting defensive.

Over the past however long, his ego had been deeply bruised. You saw it back when he realized the truth about his team. He’d been betrayed and forgotten. You suspected there was a part of him, a still human part, that was desperately seeking approval. Even if he covered it up.

Still, you dropped it. You could’ve told him that you were beginning to think he wasn’t so bad, but you didn’t want to risk boosting his ego. He was still a dick, you tried not to forget that.

After a few more hands, you were missing socks and pants—still keeping your bra, underwear, and shirt—and he was missing everything except a sock and boxers. You were sort of in the lead, but things were pretty tied up.

You gathered the cards up again and began to shuffle. “Why don’t we play gin rummy?” you suggested. You were getting a tad tired of the same game over and over.

“What? Why? We’ll keep playing this. Deal.”

You let out a huff, but gave in. You decided to just go ahead and deal.

“One last round,” you told him.

“Whatever,” he replied in a mutter, collecting his cards.

You two played and carried on a light conversation about random things. You weren’t really focused on playing truthfully, but you should’ve been. You lost the hand, meaning you had to lose something else. Soldier Boy seemed eagerly awaiting your decision, most likely assuming you’d take off your shirt. You’d already lost your socks and pants, so it seemed like a natural progression.

So, of course, you had to screw with him.

You reached under your shirt and unhooked your bra. You removed the straps through your sleeves and pulled it out from the bottom of your shirt.

“Oh, you’re killing me, sweetheart,” Soldier Boy said huskily under his breath.

You let out a small chuckle to yourself at his reaction. You let him suffer for another few seconds before announcing, “Alright, I’m bored.”

“What?” Soldier Boy furrowed his brows. “No, c’mon, keep playing,” he tried to convince you yet again.

“We’ve been playing for an hour and you refuse to learn any other game,” you argued back.

“I know how to play other games. I just prefer poker.” Soldier Boy frowned as you scraped together the card to put them back in the box. “What about a bet? One last game, winner takes all.”

You eyed him curiously, wondering where he was going with this. You’d let him convince you to play strip poker and that was already pushing it. “What kind of bet?”

Soldier Boy couldn’t bite back his grin and you had a feeling where he was going with this. “How about I win, you let me fuck you,” he stated casually. You scoffed. Of course he couldn’t help himself. He fully registered the bored I’m over it expression on your face, yet continued anyway. “And if you win, you let me fuck you and I’ll thank you for the privilege.”

At that, you couldn’t help but laugh in his face. “What kind of deal is that?” Your voice was dripping with amusement. It was actually kinda funny, the level of audacity and shamelessness he had. “No thanks, buddy.”

You moved to stand and heard Soldier Boy curse under his breath. “Fine, fine,” he said loudly, regaining your attention. If you could read people the way you thought, he seemed kinda desperate. It was almost comical. Then, his tone shifted. “I heard you earlier,” he said seriously. It threw you off. “That supe you want dead. Not Homelander, the other one. Personal to you.”

Tek Knight… Why was he bringing up that bastard?

“Heard you trying to slip him onto the list for me to take out,” Soldier Boy continued knowingly. “But your boss won’t let you.”

“Butcher isn’t my boss,” you corrected. It was the wrong thing to focus on, so you did something that was probably going to be very unadvised in hindsight. You heard Soldier Boy out.

“Whatever. Because I like you,”—you raised your brows at that and muttered an uh huh to yourself, because you didn’t really believe him—“you win and I’ll take him out.”

He was groveling, but damn him for figuring out something you wanted. You hated Homelander and pretty much all supes just like the rest of the boys, but also, like they all did, you had a grudge against a certain supe. Tek Knight was the reason Butcher found you. Before he even brought in Hughie, he had found you. Because Tek Knight had killed someone you loved.

Que the tragic backstory, right? You all had one. At one point you had believed the superheroes were heroes. That is, until you saw Tek Knight recklessly kill a bus with civilians in it—one of which was your best friend. Vought covered it up, blamed the criminals he’d been chasing, and praised the supe for his heroism. Needless to say, that changed your preconceptions of superheroes. Not long later, Butcher found you and took you under his wing. You bonded over your desire to kill the so-called heroes that had taken someone from each of you.

Except, Butcher was so determined to kill Homelander after what happened to Becca with Ryan that your need for revenge had been set on that back burner. And now here Soldier Boy was, offering you the only thing you really, really wanted. All you had to do was bet your dignity.

Could be worse, right?

“You in?” Soldier Boy asked, bringing you out of your thoughts and back to the moment. He was already grinning, like he knew your answer.

You returned to where you had been sitting across from him previously and smothered any last doubts you had. “Yeah,” you replied curtly.

That cocky smile of his only grew—it was probably the happiest you’d seen the man. He had a nice smile, but you knew his joy was because of your weakness.

You had to win, even if it was only to watch him lose and wipe that stupidly dazzling smile off his stupidly good looking face.

You didn’t trust him to shuffle, so you did. The stakes were high and you could already see the bulge in his boxers when he stood and scooted his chair closer. He was eager and ready to play—and more. You didn’t want to give him the chance to rig the game. You made an effort to avert your eyes as you dealt the cards out.

The cards in your hand weren’t the best, but they were good enough. Hopefully.

Maybe he wouldn’t be thinking with his upstairs brain, he already seemed incredibly impatient, which could work in your favor. Although, that didn’t seem likely since there was no chance either of you would fold. You pushed all the inner back-and-forth thoughts out of your head and tried to focus on the game. You put on your poker face and just hoped he had a worse hand.

You didn’t say much as you played. Neither did he. You avoided eye contact while he threw you a few looks here and there. There was an intensity to the game that hadn’t been there before. Probably because both of you had a good reason to win. At least, a self perceived good reason on Soldier Boy’s part. You thought yours was much more valid.

The game neared the end and it was time to show.

The moment of truth.

“Two pair,” you said, showing the cards that you had.

Soldier Boy let out a breath, which made you wonder if he had been holding one in. That wasn’t a good sign. He laid down his cards. “Full house,” he revealed.

Well fuck. You lost.

“Damn,” you muttered, but it overlapped with his voice.

“Oh fuck yes.” He sounded a little bit too enthused for your liking. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Take it as a compliment, sweetheart,” he commented smugly. “And don’t be a sore loser.”

“You sure got over Countess quick,” you mentioned in an off-handed tone just to mess with his head a little. “I thought you were still into her.”

He scoffed. “She was a bitch.”

“You called me a bitch earlier,” you pointed out.

“I call everyone a bitch.”

“You’re fucking confusing.”

“And you’re hot. I bet you’re a good fuck,” he countered with lascivious tone.

“You’re gross.” You were somehow still taken aback by his crassness even though you should’ve been used to it by now.

“What, you want me to tell you I’m into you?” He said it like it was offensive. “Like actually? Fine, I am. Big fucking deal,” he dismissed. “Now I won, get your ass over here. I’m not gonna fall for whatever mind games you’re playing.”

You could’ve told him no. You should’ve told him no right away. But damn, you couldn’t help but wonder. You couldn’t deny that Soldier Boy was attractive and from the view you got when he stood, you knew he was… large. Yeah, you should be saying no. What were you thinking?

Well, you were thinking you perhaps you did want to fuck him.

That was the truth even though it shouldn’t have been. You admitted that to yourself.

So, keeping with your end of the deal (because you planned to use the bet to justify all future actions to yourself), you stood from your chair. Soldier Boy was running his hands over his thighs when you moved towards him. He just couldn’t wait to touch you. He could hardly contain his excitement.

He pushed back from the table to make room. When you were within reach, his large, firm hands grabbed at you. Soldier Boy pulled you into his lap with a chuckle.

“Hi there,” you greeted in a sarcastic tone when you came face to face with him.

“Hey, darling,” he replied smoothly. Soldier Boy leaned in to kiss you, but you turned your head slightly. You weren’t sure why, you just did it. He scoffed a little, seemingly disappointed. “What—you’re not gonna let me kiss you?”

You eyed him curiously. “Why is that something you want?”

He shrugged a little. “I’m old fashioned.” He leaned in again and you didn’t turn away. “And it wasn’t a lie when I said I liked you,” he admitted under his breath before capturing your lips.

For a guy that hadn’t been in action for a few decades, Soldier Boy was a surprisingly good kisser. His lips were soft and plump, and moved expertly against yours.

When he pulled away, you were left slightly breathless. That seemed to fuel his ego because when he looked at you, a smirk appeared on his lips.

“Maybe we can both be winners,” Soldier Boy decided smugly. You became aware of his hand creeping along your hip. His fingers grazed your skin and then his hand made its way into the front of your underwear.

A spark of pleasure and even excitement shot through you when his thick fingers found what they were looking for.

Soldier Boy let out a deep, content hum when he brushed against your folds. You were already getting wet for him due to anticipation. He pressed one finger into your entrance and you bit back a gasp. Your body welcomed him, which made him chuckle.

You were waiting for some snarky comment, but at the moment he didn’t have one. Soldier Boy was far too focused on getting you ready for him to think of something. He rocked his hips, grinding his hard cock against your thigh as he pushed another finger into you. He moved them expertly, it should’ve been surprising how much care he was taking to elicit pleasure from you. However, you were far too distracted by the feeling of his thick fingers thrusting and curling inside of you to analyze him.

His thumb found your clit and you moaned, writing in his lap. Soldier Boy watched you, lips slightly parted, breaths heavy. His cock was achingly hard—you could feel it against you.

You felt a familiar knot in your belly form due to his motions.

“That’s it,” he said heatedly, feeling your walls begin to tighten around him. “You feel so fucking good. Can’t wait to be inside of you. Want you to come on my fingers first, though.”

His voice did something to you. You shouldn’t have liked it so much, but it was deep and rich and fuck, it was hot. As your eyes scanned his lust blown face, you saw something else. You couldn’t quite place it.

Your body tensed and as he perfectly moved his thumb and fingers in sync, you knew he was going to get what you wanted.

You fell against him when you started to quiver, the pleasure becoming all-consuming. Soldier Boy welcomed you against his firm body.

“For a girl that hates me you’re squeezing my fingers real fucking tight,” he grunted out against your ear.

Barely another second passed before your orgasm crashed over you in a wave. You pressed your lips together to conceal a dizzy moan, but it broke free.

You rode through the aftershocks on his fingers, catching your breath with your head on his shoulder.

When you finally came to your senses, his words rang in your head. “I don’t hate you,” you clarified in a murmur.

You sat up in his lap, head hazy with pleasure and trying to catch your breath, as he withdrew his hand from your underwear. Soldier Boy stared at you, scanning your face with an odd desperation you finally recognized. You meant it and he realized that.

You were yanked from your pleasured daze when his large hands gripped under your thighs.. In a swift motion, Soldier Boy lifted you. He stood as well and suddenly, you were lying with your back on the table, staring up at his lust blown emerald eyes.

His hands flew across your body, ridding you of your last pieces of clothing. Once you were exposed beneath him, Soldier Boy rid himself of his own clothes.

The two of you were completely naked, eyes scanning over each other's bodies. He pulled you to the end of the table and positioned himself between your legs.

Everything moved in an adrenaline filled blur.

There was very little time to prepare yourself as he planted a hand near your head and used the other to grab his cock. You briefly felt him line himself up to your entrance. Then, he was pushing into you. A gasping moan that surprised you both slipped from your lips as he filled you.

You had gotten a glimpse and knew he was big, but that had done nothing to prepare you for the stretch of his thick cock inside of you. There was a twinge of pain laced with the pleasure and it made you quiver around him.

A deep groan came from above. His eyes had fluttered shut. His hand slapped to grab your waist. His fingers flexed and dug into your skin.

“Fuck,” Soldier Boy cursed under his breath.

His cock throbbed inside of you and you could tell he needed a moment. You had to give him credit for maintaining some level of self control given how long it had been for him.

Except, you were getting impatient. In a bold move, you wrapped your legs around his waist encouragingly. Then, you raised your arms to grasp his face in your hands. You pulled him down into a passionate kiss, which he gladly responded to. He pulled back his hips a little, then thrust forward. You gasped against him and he smiled.

He straightened then, moving both hands to your hips. You braced yourself as he withdrew again, fully this time, then shoved forward.

It took a few experimental thrusts before he set a pace, but when he did you could do nothing but lay there and take everything he gave you.

You weren’t sure what you previously thought fucking him would be like, but damn it was good.

Soldier Boy knew what he was doing. He pounded into you hard and fast, forcing pleasure through your body. He was panting above you, then leaning down to press sloppy kisses to your body. His beard scratched against your skin, but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was his cock filling you.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Soldier Boy cursed and muttered the praise. His husky voice cascaded over you. You didn’t reply, but he seemed pleased with the fact that you couldn’t. You were doing everything in your power to not let out embarrassingly loud noises.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with panting breaths from you both.

He brought his hand down and pressed his thumb against your clit. Soldier Boy flicked his eyes up to you, watching your face contort in further ecstasy.

He was fervorous, putting everything he had into fucking you. It was going to be quick, he couldn’t hold back much longer,, but he wanted you to come with him.

He kept up his motions, pounding into you, filling you over and over again.

You grasped at his back suddenly, digging your nails in as your body tensed and the knot in your belly exploded. Soldier Boy groaned loudly as your body tensed and shivered around him. You couldn't hold back your moan that time.

That sent him spiraling into his own release.

One, two, three—Soldier Boy slammed into you a final time. You felt his cock twitch. He shuttered above you. Then, he was spilling inside of you. You should’ve stopped him, but you wanted to feel him fill you up.

Soldier Boy let out a heavy exhale and practically collapsed on top of you. He nestled his head into your neck, nose brushing against your ear. The feel of his cock stuffing you full, his come dripping down your thigh, and the weight of his body was all consuming. You couldn’t deny that you loved the feeling.

You ran your hands across his muscular back, listening to his heavy breathing in your ear and his heart pounding from the exertion.

There were no words spoken between you two for several moments as you each caught your breath.

“I’ll take him out,” Soldier Boy muttered into your neck, catching you off guard. It took you a second to register his words, but when you did, you turned your head to look at him. Just in tandem with him to lift himself to hover over you. He planted his hands steady to hold himself up. Your noses were only a few inches apart and you could feel light puffs of breath coming from him against your face.

“What?” you couldn’t help but ask, stunned and wanting to be sure you heard him right.

“That supe you hate,” he clarified. “I’ll kill him for you.” Soldier Boy raised his hand and brushed a few strands of hair back from your face. “If that’s what you want.”

You swallowed. “Yeah,” you told him, nodding slightly. “I want you to.”

“Alright then,” he confirmed with uncharacteristically tranquil demeanor. Seeing a gentle, oddly caring smile instead of a sleazy smirk on his face threw you off.

You thought Soldier Boy was going to lean down to kiss you—he looked like he wanted to—but something caught his attention. He lifted his head towards the door.

That’s when you heard it. The door knob rattled..

A devious grin crossed Soldier Boy’s face. It suited him better than the previous expression.

“Oh shit,” you cursed, knowing what was about to happen and that you couldn’t prevent it.

You turned your head towards the door, just in time to see Butcher and Hughie walking back in.

[delicioushottubpeanut]

noir + size kink

sorry for disappearing! 2.4k words, main warning is in the title, same reader as always, little to no body descriptions, reader has a cat! a TINY tiny amount of dubcon + slight somno at the end, overstimulation, a little bit of edging, i'm using canon noir for this because he's 6'3, make him taller in your brain if you want :) no labels for their relationship

there was a random youtube video playing for background noise while you finished with your skincare. bambi, your cat, walked into the bathroom, meowing and turning her head towards the door. you looked up and didn't see anything in your room.

you decided on just setting out some strawberries and water for her, fixing her bows, and squishing her cheeks before getting back up and finishing with your 'routine', if it could be called that. after turning off the lights, you went to the kitchen to get some water when something brushed your shoulder.

you quickly turned on your phone and pointed the screen at the person's face, breathing out a small sigh of relief when you saw the mask.

"just you," you paused, looking past noir. "do you want anything to drink? i was about to go to sleep-" before your face was being pushed into his chest in some weird attempt at a hug.

you felt your face heat up a bit at the way his shoulders bracketed you, his hands feeling heavy on your ribs as you eventually tried to reach your arms up to hug him back.

"good evening to you too," tiredly, and a bit too loud in your now less empty apartment. you felt something being traced onto your back.

'CAN I STAY' followed by a happy face and a question mark.

it was hard to tell whether or not he could feel you smiling against his shoulder, where you'd moved to and began nuzzling at. noir's hands squeezed a bit tighter, moving to where yours were splayed over his arms and rubbing at your wrists.

'ANGEL', letters traced right over one another into the back of your hand. you began tugging at him, eventually freeing yourself enough to trace a 'yes' into his neck and turn your head towards your room.

noir lifted you, fingers nearly squeezing bruises into the fat on your hips. he set down a towel and turned everything but your lamp off once he reached your bed, setting you down gently and rubbing his hands along the outside of your thighs.

his hands nearly, if not completely, covered the sides of your thighs, and you felt a shiver run down your spine as the thought processed, albeit sluggishly. you felt him begin to press kisses into your stomach and hips through his balaclava.

you could just make out noir's shape in your (darker than usual) room, and clumsily reached for your phone. 2:10 am. you flung it somewhere onto your bed and pushed at his broad shoulders from where they were pressing your thighs apart. you didn't know what you were trying to tell him.

you felt him look up and slide a finger along the top of your shorts before waiting. when you just panted instead of answering, noir reached up, stroking along the lines of the muscles in your arm before tracing out, 'CAN I CONTINUE'.

"yeah-" breathlessly, and your voice came out a bit too quiet this time. noir then lifted you, his large hands reaching across your sides with ease, and gently pushed your shorts down and off. you heard fabric rustling a bit to your right before you squeaked as you felt him press his lips just above your cunt.

'BREATHE', traced into your left hip, and he started by gently rubbing circles into your clit with his thumb, the fabric covering you dampening the feeling. you reached down and let your nails scratch into the fabric covering the back of noir's neck.

you whined as you felt noir lift up a bit, looking around to check if the room was as dark as he wanted it before descending again. you reached for him, and he interlocked the fingers of one of his hands with yours, dwarfing yours. he pushed the fabric of his mask up, bringing his hand back between your legs before beginning to nip at your inner thighs.

you felt a throb in your clit at the way his stubble scraped against your thighs. your legs began to close around his head, and he moved his hand away from your cunt to press them back apart. you were so spread out it nearly hurt.

noir shivered a bit at feeling how much bigger he was than you, biting a bit harder and kissing at the mark that started forming before he pushed your panties to the side and dragged a finger through the wetness that began to drip from you.

you saw the glint of his teeth as he smiled, seeing the way your hips canted up when he'd drag his hand away. noir did this a few more times before laving his tongue through your folds, lingering on your clit before moving away again. a quiet sob clawed its way through your chest and up into your throat before you could stop it.

the sound of his codpiece hurriedly coming off and being thrown to the side rang through the room before noir put his mouth back on you, his lips being able to cover your cunt with no difficulty. you heard his gasps as he stroked himself over his tactical pants a few times to take the edge off before bringing his fingers back up to press into you.

your face flushed even more at how easily you took noir's fingers in. he filled you up easily, having forgotten how big his hands were for a few minutes. tears welled up in your eyes once he mouthed 'wet' into your clit before starting to suck at it, not giving you any reprieve from the feeling. you mewled once he reached a specific place inside you and curled his fingers.

"noir-" strained and wobbly, but audible, and he grabbed one of your pillows and brought it between his legs as he pressed his mouth harder into you. you heard the bed creak and looked back down at him, seeing noir grinding against it while he let out a quiet moan at the feeling.

you brought both your hands to where his neck met his shoulders and dug your nails in, trying to gather your thoughts for the couple of seconds that noir had his face pressed to your thigh before he moved back down. you were going to get beard burn, you thought to yourself before he started pressing into your gspot again.

your orgasm started making itself known in the area right between your hips, where noir was grabbing at you before moving his hand to press into the area underneath your stomach. your thighs started to shake when noir gasped and moaned into you as his hips bucked. you pressed your nails into him harder, and he tossed your pillow to the side.

he added another finger and drew his tongue across your clit slowly, pushing harder and harder until you were whining with how sensitive you were getting. noir pulled off when your gasps started sounding wet, and moved up to lick the tears off your face. he rubbed his hand slowly over your stomach and thighs, nearly silently going 'shh' into your ear until you went quiet. your hips were burning from how much you had to spread your legs to get him close to you like this.

noir worked his way back down, pushing your shirt up and licking over your tits for a little before kissing down to where he was bullying your pussy open. he dug his hand into the muscle of your thigh, leaving a handprint that nearly covered the entire front of the upper part of it before pushing three fingers back into you.

you could vaguely make out the way he pressed his thighs together at the sounds you'd started making, and his fingers found that spot inside you quickly. noir fit his mouth back over your clit and sucked hard, almost like making you cum in his mouth was punishment for something.

in your mind, loose around the edges as it was, you forgot noir was capable of killing you without moving from his spot on the bed. you grabbed him by the back of his head and ground against his mouth, whimpering at the feeling of his stubble scratching at you.

he gave a surprised moan, and that's all it took for you to gush around his fingers. your hand shot up to press against your mouth, muffling your moans from how hard you were cumming before you felt a much larger hand wrap around yours and drag it away from you, leaving you to sob into the space of your room.

noir had a hand around the base of his cock, squeezing to prevent himself from cumming in his pants with how you felt, sounded, tasted in his mouth. he pulled off, panting over you before moving up to kiss you, crowding you where you were laying on your comforter.

he moaned a little where he began mouthing at your jaw, hand bringing yours to wrap around his cock. noir stuttered when he felt you, gathering your thigh closer to him where he was grinding against it. you pushed the fabric of his pants down just enough to free him.

"inside," you said into his ear, letting him put you into a mating press before you felt something being traced into the area below your collarbone.

'NOT GOING TO LAST', and then he whimpered when you notched his head into your folds, letting him grind against your clit.

"'s fine, you old man," and you felt his face heat up where he was pressing it into your neck. you pressed your lips to noir's temple, over his mask, reaching around and tugging at the curls at the nape of his neck before pushing his cock down to your entrance.

both of you gasped as he sank into you, him at the wetness and feeling of you around him, and you at the stretch. you sunk your teeth into his shoulder when he canted his hips closer to you, making failed attempts at swallowing down his moans.

you felt the word 'fuck' mouthed into the top of your head. he'd nearly encased you with the rest of his frame, looming over you with his thighs bracketing your hips. you were pulsing around him, occasionally squeezing to try to get used to his size, while noir attempted to press his thighs together from where they were surrounding you.

noir grabbed at your waist, hands shaky but still gripping hard enough to bruise, and started grinding into you, gasping. you let out a mewl as he nudged your gspot, and attempted to think.

you grabbed one of his hands, moving it up so you could suck at his fingers before moving your other hand down to rub at your clit. noir looked down and moved your hand out of the way, gently rubbing at the scratches he'd left on your thighs from his grip before placing two of his fingers on you.

you slung your now free hand over noir's shoulder, holding onto him tightly as he started thrusting into you. whenever he bottomed out, you'd grind against his pelvis, feeling another orgasm start building inside of you, and quickly.

noir gasped at the feeling of you inadvertently tightening around him, bucking his hips before resuming his motions, bending down to mouth at your neck. you felt his thighs squeezing around you again, cock kicking where he was bullying it into you.

he panted and whined slightly where his mouth was pressing against you, rubbing harder at your clit. he tried and failed to mouth any more words into your skin, settling for licking and biting at you instead. you let go of the hand he had placed at your mouth, grabbing at the breadth of his shoulders and not knowing whether to push him away or pull him in closer.

you whined urgently as you felt yourself get closer and closer, gasping out noir's name into the armor covering his clavicle. he bit down even harder, whimpering a bit when he felt your grip on him tighten.

you came around him when he moved his fingers out of your mouth and placed them around your neck, biting your lip so hard you drew blood as you felt him sink fully into you, shaking where he was trying not to cum while grinding himself into your clit.

some desperation-addled, dark part of his brain delighted in the feeling of you pushing at his shoulders, whines of 'please', 'cum', and 'sensitive' tumbling quietly from your mouth, all while you were still cumming. noir felt his balls draw up where they were pressed against you, moaning when he felt your nails digging into his skin where his mask had been pushed up.

noir drew back and pounded into you once, twice, and then stuttered where he tried to grind into you a third time as his cum started to pour into you. he reached a hand under you, scratching at your back and whining into your hair as he felt you clench around him and sob again. he drew you into the space between his hips a few more times, his legs shaking.

noir moaned again when your hips bucked from the overstimulation. his hand had been rubbing at your clit the entire time. he continued grinding into you until his cock was throbbing, trying to let out more of his cum even when he'd filled you so much you were leaking onto the towel he'd put down.

both of you whimpered as he pulled out of you, running his hands along your sides and kissing at your forehead. you pointed to your nightstand, and noir used some of the wipes you had there so that you two didn't feel completely gross before he laid down next to you.

noir gently moved you and pressed you up against his chest, dragging a hand along your sides and waiting for your breathing to slow down. he traced petnames into your skin, 'angel', 'bunny', 'baby', 'pretty', and more. he slung his arms over your torso, engulfing you once again like he'd done in your kitchen.

once noir saw your eyes begin to flutter shut, he began to mouth at your neck again. he then let his fingers slip back against your clit, hushing you gently when the feeling made you start to stir.

[delicioushottubpeanut]

Under My Skin (Black Noir x Reader)

Summary: Just when you think you don’t have a chance with Black Noir, an investor gala gives you a new opportunity to get under his skin.

Note: Gender neutral reader and no descriptors are used. This is based on an anonymous request and also the song I’ve Got You Under My Skin. I’m so glad I’ve finally gotten a chance to write for Black Noir! Pre-season 1 where you’re in The Seven. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: None. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

The piece of paper on the table in front of you was mocking you. Black Noir had already won three out of the four tic-tac-toe matches you were silently engaged in during The Seven’s daily briefing, and with the way things were going, he was poised to win a fifth. With a huff, you drew a hopeless circle and silently slid it back to Noir.

“Nightowl,” Homelander said.

You looked up, bringing your attention to him. 

“Great work on the team-up with Noir the other night.”

Noir slid the paper back to you, his tic-tac-toe win marked with a clean line, but he’d also drawn a smiley face.

You smiled. “Anytime.”

Homelander continued on, and you only half paid attention, your focus increasingly on the man sitting beside you. Even before you joined The Seven, you admired Noir for his stealth and prowess, something you aspired to. Upon your first team-up, it was clear your powers, most effective at night, complimented his incredibly well. Plus, he seemed to like you from the start, which put you in Homelander’s good graces most of the time. 

Absentmindedly, you drew a little heart on the paper, feeling your face heat up when you saw Noir’s head turned toward you. He didn’t acknowledge the drawing, instead beginning a new game of tic-tac-toe. Embarrassment flooded your chest, blood rushing in your ears. You hoped he didn’t think you were being weird.

“Last thing…” Homelander said, reading off the agenda. “Oh yeah, investor gala this weekend.”

“Great, another ass-kissing convention,” Maeve mumbled.

“Can we make sure shrimp cocktail isn’t served this time?” The Deep asked. “I just feel like—“

Homelander’s jaw clenched. “Jesus Christ, do I look like a caterer, Deep? Am I carrying around a silver platter–”

After a few more moments of bickering, Homelander ended the meeting, not without everyone still grumbling under their breath about the gala. No one particularly liked schmoozing over rich assholes, but they made your lucrative paychecks possible, so it was a necessary evil. 

You and Noir hadn’t finished the last round of your game, but when he left, he took the paper with him. 

You sighed. You knew you had it bad for him, but it was tough to gauge his feelings for you when his face was constantly covered by his mask. Even when you blatantly flirted, he seemed unaffected by your advances toward him. Of course you’d fall for this mystery of a man, the epitome of cool, calm, and collected. Your endeavor was starting to feel hopeless.

“So, when are you gonna make a move on Noir?” Homelander asked, walking out of the meeting room with you. “And don’t give me that ‘we just work together’ bullshit. The tension’s so thick I could laser through it.”

“You can laser through anything.”

He rolled his eyes, a slight smile on his face. “Look, there’s only so long I can take the two of you making heart-eyes at each other. I mean, get a room.”

“He makes heart-eyes at me?” you asked softly.

“Yes, so do something about it already.”

“Maybe at the gala. Everyone’s there to see you, anyway.”

“That’s true. No one would really notice if you and Noir weren’t there,” he said, before giving you a slightly painful pat on the shoulder. “Well, except me if you’re loud enough.”

You gave him a pointed look. “Thanks, Homelander.”

You never took his comments like that to heart. You knew you weren’t one of the more interesting members of The Seven, especially compared to the likes of Homelander and Maeve. It was a blessing in disguise, as you ended up stuck doing far less schmoozing than they did. Homelander could hide his disdain for whoever Vought wanted him to entertain for the evening, but on more than one occasion, you’d been on the receiving end of his rant about “pandering to the mud people.”

Noir always showed up to these events, despite not interacting with anyone unless it was to get food. Once in a while, you’d watch as someone tried to start a conversation with him, only to be ignored before awkwardly making an excuse to leave. At least he’d give you the time of day, silently letting you people watch with him, acknowledging your observations about the various guests with a nod, or on rare occasions, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly when you’d said something funny. You always felt especially accomplished then.

The night of the gala was only nerve-wracking because you were finally going to be forward with Noir and see where that got you, rather than your tentative approach in the past. 

When you arrived on the floor where the investor gala was being held, you went through all of the necessary introductions as quickly as you could. Across the room, Black Noir was playing the piano, as he tended to do during crowded events. You’d asked him before where he learned to play, and he wrote simply on a cocktail napkin ‘My grandma.’ As much as he trusted you, there were still parts of himself that were guarded, carefully revealing pieces of his past to you, though you could never fully put the whole picture together. In all the years you were a member of The Seven, you weren’t sure you ever would. 

His past didn’t matter to you. You were fond of the man he was, even if he didn’t reveal his whole self to you. Still, you wished you knew more. He didn’t seem to have any family, at least that he was in contact with. Then again, most of your teammates had complicated relationships with your families, yourself included. That one talent of his, however, showed that at one point there was someone he was close to, that he had a life outside of being a member of The Seven. You hoped the two of you could have that together.

Finally able to slip away from the people whose names you couldn’t be bothered to remember, you made your way over to Noir. He looked up from the piano, tilting his head a bit in acknowledgement of you.

“This party’s so boring.” You made a point to lean against the piano, letting the spandex of your suit highlight your body. “I mean, I can think of much better things you and me could be doing with our time.”

You weren’t sure if he was nodding along with your sentiment or the music. Ever so frustratingly difficult to read. Taking his response in stride, you sat down next to him on the piano bench. He didn’t stop playing, but he didn’t move away from you either. 

“Will you show me how to play?” you asked.

He paused, the soft music stopping momentarily. With a nod, he shifted closer to you, placing his gloved hands over yours. You let him guide you, though your gaze was on him rather than the keys. 

“You’re great with your hands, Noir,” you said. “I mean, playing piano, fighting criminals, I’m sure there’s more you can do, if you ever wanna show me sometime.”

No reaction. Maybe it was useless. Maybe Homelander was just messing with you. Maybe—

He rubbed the top of your hand with his thumb, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips. It was something, finally some indication that he returned your affection. 

“You wanna get out of here?” you asked softly. “I only came for you, anyway.”

He took your hand in his, the music from the piano ceasing abruptly again. He brought his pointer finger to his mouth, and you giggled despite his silent instruction to be quiet. 

Glancing around, you noticed everyone else was preoccupied, mainly with competing for Homelander’s attention, as usual. The perfect opportunity for the two of you to slip away from the party with ease. Stealth was his speciality after all. 

You let him lead you away from the gala and to an empty balcony on another floor of the tower. The city seemed to sparkle especially bright that night. Feeling bold, you rested your head on his shoulder, your hand still intertwined with his.

“I wish we could be like this more often,” you whispered. “You’re the only person I like spending so much time with. I think of you, and I—it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I just wanted you to know.”

After a few minutes of silence, Noir moved away from you, reaching for something in his pocket. A folded piece of paper, the same one the two of you had been playing tic-tac-toe on just a few days earlier. He handed it to you, and you scanned the page before landing on the heart you’d drawn, finding he’d drawn another one around it.

“This is so high school,” you laughed, nevertheless taking his covered face in your hands and kissing him. “So, what do we do now, loverboy?”

He wrapped his arms around you, and you could’ve sworn you heard him sigh contentedly.

[delicioushottubpeanut]

thunderstorms

anthony bridgerton x fem reader. word count: 1675. based off of scenes in the viscount who loved me by julia quinn. in which y/n is scared of thunderstorms and anthony bridgerton brings her comfort.

you found yourself in the bridgerton family library when the thunderstorm began, a flash of lightning struck the grass field outside before the rain began to heavily pour and pound against the thin glass windows. a gasp escaped from your lungs as you wrapped your arms around yourself in an attempt to comfort and protect yourself from one of your biggest fears – thunderstorms. you believed it to be a silly and irrational fear, but a fear nonetheless, and one that had plagued you for as long as you could remember, which would continue to haunt you for the remaining years that you had left.

your family had stayed the night at aubrey hall following last night’s soiree, and you had always struggled to sleep in beds and rooms which did not belong to you, hence why you had no choice but to find solace amongst the books in the library.  the dusty clothbound book that you were examining fell from your hands at the first clap of thunder, which cascaded loudly throughout the house, and you found yourself cowering in the first place which seemed fit to protect you, under a heavy wooden desk. 

anthony was wandering the halls when this occurred, slightly drunk and on his return from … “visiting” one of his many mistresses. he noticed first the flickering candlelight escaping from underneath the door of the family library, and with a shake of his head he impatiently flung open the door and dramatically sighed. “bloody, eloise…trying to kill us all.” she was the one who used the library most often, and so anthony didn’t hesitate to jump to conclusions. after heeding the open book abandoned on the wooden floorboards he stopped abruptly in his tracks. “hello?” anthony called out, picking up the novel before taking a few steps towards where the candle sat, atop of the wooden desk. 

you froze after hearing the door open, holding your breath as the sound of heavy footsteps grew closer and closer and anthony bridgerton’s quiet cursing filled the air. you cleared your throat, eyes widening as anthony and his heavy boots came to stand before the desk. you made haste to wipe the tears from your cheeks with the sleeve of your nightgown before you quietly uttered the words:  “uh… my lord.” anthony jumped a little, eyes scanning the room until he eventually found the location of the voice and crouched down to be eye to eye with yourself. 

his eyes narrowed, looking utterly bewildered and even a little irritated until he noticed your damp cheeks and teary eyes – because why on earth was he finding one of their guests tucked away hiding in his family's library? “good god, miss y/n… you startled me, i must admit.” he paused for a second and you, though unsuccessful, attempted to force a small smile onto your lips. “why are you crying? did someone… did a man do something untoward? hurt you?!” the viscount questioned, becoming a little agitated at the idea. concern lay thick and prominent in his voice. 

you shook your head quickly, his soft brown eyes watching you and filling with perplexity. “i…” before you could find the words to properly form a sentence a crash of thunder echoed through the room once again, making you wince and flinch away from anthony as if you were in a great deal of pain. despite the fact you closed your eyes as tightly as you could manage, more tears escaped and rolled down onto your flushed cheeks. 

anthony frowned in confusion at first but soon understood, and after a few seconds of silence you felt him let out a deep breath and crawl under the desk next to you, bringing his knees up to his chest to allow himself to fit his large body alongside yours. as soon as he settled down next to you the aroma of aftershave and something which smelled vaguely like alcohol filled your nostrils. as much as you didn’t want to admit it, it was a comforting scent. 

squeezing into such a small and confined space reminded him of the games of hide and seek that he used to play with his younger siblings and as much as he hated to see you in such an unpleasant situation he was grateful for the memories that sitting under the wooden desk dug up from the depths of his head. “the storm…”he spoke quietly, nodding mainly to himself as he decided what exactly it was he wanted to say, as well as what would help to comfort you best. “daphne was afraid of storms too when she was a little girl, i used to stay with her during them to bring her comfort after our…” he cleared his throat, blinking slowly as though to stop his own tears from spilling out. “after our father died.”

you nodded, yet couldn’t exactly bring yourself to answer. of course you knew very little about anthony bridgerton, and even less about his family, but you couldn't quite understand why so many seemed to talk so negatively about him – calling him a rake and all sorts, lady whistledown could be terribly unforgiving. when here he was, a man of 5 feet ten squished underneath a desk to comfort you during a storm whilst telling you what seemed to be intimate details about his family. maybe it’s because he was tipsy, or maybe there was something about you which anthony felt he could trust. 

“would you like me to escort you back to your bedchamber?” anthony asked – not that he wanted to be rid of you, but rather that he was somewhat worried what someone would think if someone happened to find the two of you, hiding cosily away in the library. 

you shook your head quickly, glad of his company and far too frightened to even entertain the idea of leaving this little safe space which you had built yourself. “no, no thank you.” you finally spoke. 

anthony nodded his head slightly, before quietly clearing his throat. he moved around for some moments in an attempt to find a comfortable position for himself in the cramped space, he didn’t exactly succeed. “very well then.” 

a few minutes of silence passed between the two of you, the only sounds that filled the air being the heavy rain thrashing against the windows and your quiet sniffles – of course the silence was interrupted by another crash of thunder in time. you seemed to shrink into yourself with each loud noise, making anthony frown to himself and reach out to take your hand without thinking twice. your trembling hand appeared to be tiny in his, and anthony found himself wanting to lean down and kiss the soft bare skin in an attempt to calm you down. though he quickly shook the thought from his head and settled for gently rubbing your skin with his thumb instead. “it’ll soon pass, y/n. i am sure.” he mumbled in a voice which he hoped sounded soothing. anthony didn’t think twice about using your first name, although he was a gentleman, or maybe it was because he was a gentleman, he was willing to do whatever he thought may comfort you best – often in situations like this there was little time for formalities. 

you found yourself shifting closer to the viscount with each echo of thunder, and soon enough you were able to lay your head comfortably upon his shoulder. anthony held his breath, your loose hair ticking slightly against his skin. he held one of your hands tightly, his thumb continuing to massage your skin, whilst his other arm found itself wrapping tightly around your waist and drawing you in to be even closer to himself. a gasp left you, the close proximities making your heart beat faster though distracting you ever so slightly from the anxieties the storm provoked within you.

“shh, shh… you are safe, i promise.” anthony cooed, presuming your gasp to have been caused by the now fading storm rather than himself. “i will not allow you to be hurt whilst i’m here with you, and definitely not by some storm.” 

you allowed the viscount to coddle you for the remainder of the storm, god knows that you needed it, and found your eyelids growing heavier with each second that passed. it was exceedingly difficult to stay awake when tucked up safely in the warmth of anthony’s chest, his comforting scent filling your nostrils and bringing you a greater solace than you could ever have imagined for yourself. 

you didn’t remember falling asleep in anthony’s arms, and you certainly didn’t intend to. but when you awoke the next morning you found yourself cosy in the bedchamber, the pillows to your liking and the soft white bedsheets tucked up to your chin. after stretching your arms out and glancing in confusion around the room, you noticed the book you had retrieved from the bridgerton library in the early hours of the morning sat on the bedside table. 

what you wasn't aware of, was that lord bridgerton himself had stayed with you for at least forty minutes after you fell asleep practically atop of him – he then decided to carefully pick you up from under the wooden desk and carry you as carefully and as quietly as he could manage through the halls back to your bedchamber. this is where he proceeded to tuck you cosily underneath the pale bedsheets, before placing the book that you had dropped in the library onto the table beside your bed. 

after ensuring that you were content, and that the storm was now settled enough not to disturb you, he gently brought his lips to your forehead and kissed your skin as gently as he could muster. “goodnight, y/n.” he whispered, making his way out of the room and to his own bedchamber. though he did not sleep, for his mind was far too preoccupied with thoughts of a certain woman with a fear of thunderstorms.

the very same night, you dreamt of the viscount.

[delicioushottubpeanut]

𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 — benedict bridgerton x female reader . in which benedict discovers a lady asleep on his bed after retiring from the annual bridgerton ball for the night.

3200 words | a fluffy mess ! | masterlist | suggest fics ideas

The last thing that Benedict had expected to see when stumbling into his bedchambers after retiring from the ball for the night, still slightly tipsy, was a lady fast asleep on his bed. But Alas — there you were. Fast asleep, chest slowly rising and then falling again, your lips parted and the material of your ballgown draped in a rather messy manner around you.

He rubbed at his eyes harshly, as if doing so would prove that you were indeed a figment of his imagination, that he was coming down with a fever and therefore hallucinating, that a shadow had taken form on his bed and he had simply mistaken it for a girl. But no. You were actually there. On his bed.

Benedict felt his mouth fall open and shut again – bewildered but slowly coming to his senses. He finally closed the door behind him, so as to ensure nobody would see you, that your reputation wouldn’t be ruined over something which wasn’t anything. “Alright… alright.” he mumbled to himself, taking a few steps closer to the bed and kneeling onto the mattress besides you. Hoping that perhaps his weight shifting underneath would wake you up but… no. Instead you just mumbled something incoherent in your sleep, shifting onto your side as you did so. 

The annual Bridgerton ball had taken place that night, was still taking place downstairs in fact, and was still running into the early hours of the morning. But Benedict decided that he had had enough of the ton for one day, that he would get a somewhat early night. Instead one of his mother’s  guests was napping in his bedchambers. Which he had to admit was something completely new to him, in their many years of hosting balls he had never experienced this. 

“Um… Excuse me? Miss?” he half whispered, placing a light hand on the soft skin of your arm and attempting to gently shake you awake. “You really need to wake… You don’t wish to be caught alone together, hm? Especially not in my bedchamber…” 

Upon further inspection, Benedict noticed that your hair had been lazily removed from its updo, and instead fell around you, framing your face and complimenting your features perfectly. He brushed a piece away from you, tucking it behind your ear and frowning as he stared down at you. He was entirely unsure of what to do, and far too aware of how the situation would appear to anybody else - your reputation would be completely ruined if you were caught in this situation. Benedict wanted to ask his mother for help, but was frightened to leave you here alone. What if something happened to you? What if something had already happened to you? 

Benedict was unaware that just a few hours earlier, you had began to grow incredibly bored of the ball – by the mundanity of it all, the endless stream of men that your mother insisted on parading in front of you, the dances, the meaningless and far too polite conversation. You had instead decided to plant yourself in a corner nearest to the drinks table… where you had been drinking the night away ever since. 

You were unsure of how much you had actually drank, but when the entire room began to spin in a rather unpleasant way you had decided that it was probably time to stop. You had managed to stagger out of the ballroom and into a hallway – though you can hardly remember the journey upstairs and through the hallways into Benedict’s bedchamber, nor can you remember falling asleep, but you know that you certainly didn’t intend to fall into such a deep slumber. 

“Miss?” your eyes fluttered open to the sound of a concerned voice – a man. You sat yourself up quickly, too quickly. You immediately regretted it as the room began to sway again, the unfamiliar surroundings rocking back and fourth. You soon discovered the source of the voice, sat besides you on the bed with his eyebrows pulled together in concern. A Bridgerton. You weren’t entirely sure which one, but you knew that he was a Bridgerton.

“Oh dear God.” the words fell from you before you could stop them, bringing your hands upwards in an attempt to cover your face. Although you were still very drunk, you had enough sense to be embarrassed, mortified in fact, by the entire situation. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Mr Bridgerton.” you mumbled — refusing to meet his eyes, which were burning through you with an undeniably intense curiosity. 

Benedict blinked in surprise, he had never got quite used to the entirety of the ton being aware of who he was — most of the time they cannot tell him apart from his brothers, but they are still aware that he is a Bridgerton, meanwhile he is half asleep when introduced to people by his mother, it can be quite rare that he actually remembers a name.

“Are you quite alright?”

“I’m a little bit...”

“Drunk? I know that. I can smell the alcohol on you. But are you alright? I mean you were hiding in my bedchambers, asleep on my bed. Did something happen? Other than the copious amounts of alcohol.” Underneath his concern, his curiosity, his twenty questions – was amusement. You could tell that he was repressing a smile, perhaps even in a small laugh. 

You felt your cheeks begin to warm, feeling completely and utterly  embarrassed – he could smell the alcohol on you after all. You stood from the bed as soon as you could get up, an action which ended up being a complete mistake, you began to stagger sideways almost instantly. Benedict having to stand from where he was sitting in order to prevent you from falling. He placed two firm yet gentle hands on your arms, holding you in one place. 

“It’s alright… I’m not angry, if anything I’m quite amused…” you were forced to make eye contact with him at that point, and discovered that he was practically gazing at you, smiling as if he was biting back a laugh – he became serious again rather quickly. “But are you alright? Has anybody hurt you? Or was the annual Bridgerton ball just that boring?” 

You shook your head quickly. “I’m quite alright… I didn’t mean to fall asleep, do you see? I just needed a rest.” Your excuse didn’t give you any comfort, here you were, apologising to someone who was practically a stranger for falling asleep on his bed because you… needed a rest. 

“So you’re fine. Just sleepy, I suppose.” 

“Just sleepy.” You confirmed.

“And drunk… Too much of my mother’s famous punch.”

A quiet giggle fell from your lips – he was actually quite amusing. Why couldn’t your mother have paraded him in front of you instead of the magnitudes of bores who she insisted on you at least considering? 

“Do you care to tell me your name?” Benedict questioned, his head tilting to one side as his eyes scanned across your features, not making an attempt to hide his curiosity. 

“Y/N.” You replied, raising your head in the most confident and self assured manner that you could muster. 

“Well… It’s lovely to meet you, Miss Y/N.” He removed his hands from each of your arms, instead taking your hand in his and pressing a soft kiss to the bare skin, before gently releasing you. “I’m Benedict — You don’t have to bother with the Mr Bridgerton stuff, I’m just Benedict afterall.” 

“I must be getting back… Benedict.” You smiled, hesitating at first but ultimately enjoying the way that his name sounded on your tongue. Benedict — you decided that you could get used to it. “I am sure that my mother will be worrying.” 

Benedict raised an eyebrow, sitting back on the edge of his mattress. “You can hardly stand, Miss Y/N. I’m not sure that you’re in any fit state to return to the ball just yet.” He stretched his legs out, removing his waistcoat and discarding it somewhere across the room.

“I appreciate the concern but I am perfectly fine.” you crossed your arms across your chest, feining irritation as you stared down at where he now practically laid across the bed. Unbeknown to you, your words were still slurred – very slurred. 

He was now laying back, gazing up at the ceiling. “You’ll be the talk of the town! I can picture it now… Do you think that you’ll be the main feature on Lady Whistledown? Or instead one of the more minor segments?” You stayed silent, arms staying tightly crossed. “Miss Y/N…” He held out an arm dramatically above him “drunken disaster…” 

“That is very rude! Were you not taught never to speak to a lady in such a manner?” you exclaimed, picking up what was nearest to you and throwing it across the room, where it landed on his chest – luckily, it was quite a small book, and did no damage when it came into contact with him. 

Benedict seemed utterly unfazed, laughing quietly to himself and opening the book to a random page – where he seemingly pretended to be utterly engrossed in the chapter. “Apparently not… I have four sisters so I am quite used to bickering with these so called ladies that you speak of.” He paused for a moment. “I will find something to sober you.” he stood, suddenly serious, his gaze turning to where you stood. “But only if you promise to stay here for the time being. If someone sees you leaving my bedchambers it would look most suspicious.” 

You nodded quickly, knowing that as much as you wanted to disagree,  he was most definitely right. “Just sit.” Benedict pointed to the bed, and you did so without hesitating, being very obedient. “And stay there. I won’t be gone for very long.” 

Benedict managed to leave his bedchamber without being spotted – using the servants staircase in order to avoid seeing anybody, and making his way down to the kitchen in order to fetch tea and biscuits for you. Meanwhile, you sat on the edge of Benedict’s bed, inspecting the surroundings the best you could without moving. You noticed an easel in the corner of the room and raised an eyebrow – you wouldn’t have guessed that he was a painter, but then again, you hardly knew him.

The minutes dragged on for what felt like eternity, waiting for Benedict to return to his room, and when he finally did you weren’t expecting him to return carrying a huge tray in a rather clumsily manner. He placed it down on the table besides his bed, shutting the door behind him as quick as he could. “Sorry that took me so long I…” He hesitated for a moment, seeming to carefully think his words over. “If I’m being completely honest I couldn’t work the stove to heat the water… but I got there eventually. Tea and biscuits, for you.” Benedict smiled sheepishly, before beginning to pour you a cup of tea. He handed it to you, and you gratefully took it. “You actually stayed sat there, how obedient!” 

You rolled your eyes, attempting to pay no mind to the way that particular comment made you feel – deciding to ignore it completely. “Thank you, Benedict.” Silence fell between the two of you, Benedict pouring a cup for himself before sitting besides you. “You’re an artist?”

He glanced over at the easel in the corner of the room before looking back to you, nodding as he did so. “Something like that… I like to draw, but whether I am an artist or not is most likely up for debate.” 

“Are you any good? Would you be able to capture my likeness? Can I see one of your sketchbooks?” You inquired, questions falling from you with zero difficulty. You thought that perhaps you might be speaking too much, but Benedict entertained every question that you asked him. 

He paused for a moment, eyes scanning you up and down – you couldn’t help but shiver underneath his gaze. “Hm… I’m certainly not a bad painter, though sometimes I doubt myself – I suppose we all doubt ourselves at times.” He was quiet once again, choosing his words carefully. “I’m unsure whether I’d be able to capture your beauty, but I’m always up for a challenge.” Benedict began to search through his bedside drawers, holding multiple sketchbooks in his hand. “I’m not sure if all of my sketches would be exactly… appropriate for a lady.” 

Once again, your cheeks warmed in embarrassment, and you turned your attention quickly to your tea to hide just how flustered his words made you – trying to ignore him as he began to flick through the pages of the filled books, tossing a few aside as he deemed them as being too inappropriate for your eyes. Of course you were curious, but you chose not to press on. 

You crossed your legs underneath you in the best way that you could manage whilst still wearing your ballgown, leaning forwards with interest as Benedict opened a sketchbook on the bed in front of you – pointing to the charcoal sketches. “My sisters… Daphne, Eloise, Francesca and Hyacinth.” he pointed to each picture, smiling proudly as he did so – proud more so of his actual sisters than he was of the drawings (although he knew that he had captured them well.)

“They’re beautiful, truly. You’re quite gifted.” You turned the page, smiling as you took in each sketch. 

You certainly didn’t miss how Benedict’s cheeks flushed a reddish hue with each compliment, how his lips turned up at the corners into a shy smile. He was clearly passionate about his work, cared more than he wanted to about what others thought of his art, that he valued your opinion. “Thank you… it means a lot. Truly.” 

The two of you spent as long as possible, talking, laughing, looking through Benedict’s sketchbooks, discussing books you had read recently – until you had sobered up… at least a little bit. The tea and biscuits soaking up some of the alcohol in your system, though there was nothing wrong with being a little bit merry at an event. 

“I suppose you truly should be off now.” Benedict sighed, helping you to your feet. “Most people will be leaving soon…  and you don’t want your mother to end up sending out a search party to find you.” You were certainly a lot more steady on your feet this time around, taking a few hesitant steps with the help of Benedict and feeling fine. 

You nodded, sighing quietly to yourself – you had had a much more enjoyable night, with better conversations in the short amount of time spent with Benedict than you had had at any other ball. “Thank you, for being so kind… and I’m sorry again.” 

Benedict shushed you, pressing a gentle finger to your lips – apparently feeling rather more bold than he usually would. “There’s no need to apologise – as strange as it was, I’ve had a lovely time. A better time than I would had I spent more time actually socialising.” 

“Me too.” You admitted, smiling sheepishly at him. Benedict turned from you, creeping to the door of the room and slowly opening it in order to prevent it creaking — he peered out, eyes scanning the hall to ensure that nobody was around. “It’s clear.” He reached out his hand to guide you to the door and you gladly took it, enjoying the warmth of his skin on yours as you were lead from the door. Benedict walked you to the end of the hall, pointing as he gave you directions back to the ballroom. 

You couldn’t help but feel a sadness within you as you walked the halls, taking in every tiny piece of detail: the paintings; the wallpaper; the furniture; the flooring – certain that you wouldn’t be returning. “Well… Goodbye.” You whispered shyly, offering a small wave before turning and beginning to descend the grand stairs. 

“Wait…” Benedict mumbled, turning and taking your hand in his and spinning you around to face him. You felt your eyebrows furrow together in confusion, watching as he hesitated with his words before finally blurting out the question – “Can I see you again?” 

“Of course you can… Mr Bridgerton.” You smiled, and in a feeling of unnatural and rare moment of courage you leaned up to kiss his cheek – pressing your soft lips to his skin before pulling away and watching as his face began to flush to a pretty shade of rosy pink. Unbelievable. You had managed to make Benedict Bridgerton blush. 

Before he could speak, you practically ran from the scene, gathering up your skirt in your hands to ensure that you wouldn’t trip. You knew that it was probably quite a dangerous thing to do, considering the fact that you weren’t exactly sober.

Benedict watched as you ran from him until you were completely out of sight, his lips slightly parted in surprise as he struggled to process all of the events from that night — it  all felt very much like a fever induced dream.

On returning to his bedchambers, Benedict flipped to a new page in his sketchbook and began to draw – wanting to sketch you to the best of his abilities before his memories began to fade. Despite his previous desire for an early and long night of sleep, he ended up staying awake for most of the night working on the portrait, ensuring that it would be ready before you awoke that morning. 

And when you awoke one of the first things that you discovered was a grand bouquet of roses left on the table besides your bed, made up of all sorts of different shades and sizes… alongside a note. Your lady’s maid had brought the flowers into your room whilst you had slept, creeping along the wooden floor so as not to wake you. She was secretly excited for you, having sneakily seen the note which came with the bouquet – she had unfolded it before tucking it back into place.

Hours after the flowers had arrived, you finally awoke. Still in your nightgown, half asleep and still in your nightgown, half asleep and sporting a small alcohol induced headache - you had leaned over to inspect the flowers before reaching for and unfolding the note — discovering a drawing of yourself. 

 A small gasp escaped you as you took it in. Benedict. He had made you look beautiful, so beautiful – he had captured you perfectly, all of you, seeming to even capture the soul behind your eyes. You just seemed so alive. His signature was at the bottom of the portrait, alongside the words “Sketched with love and care for Miss Y/N. – Benedict Bridgerton.” 

You ran your finger gently across the words, careful not to smudge any of it – the words repeating in your head again and again. A contented sigh falling from your lips, you fell back onto your mattress, holding the drawing close to your chest as the night’s events really sunk into you. It was hard to believe – yet the words on the page were there as proof — sketched with love and care for Miss Y/N. Benedict Bridgerton.

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Taking anti-depressant pills?? Seeing a therapist??? Journaling???? No need babe, my fav writer just dropped another x reader fic.

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whatever penelope and lord debling are looking at in the distance im absolutely hand on heart convinced it's colin bridgerton falling headfirst off his horse or some dramatic ass shit to ruin their picnic

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Was listening to a man without love and I got SO EMOTIONAL I miSS THEM

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OSCAR ISAAC Behind the Scenes of ESQUIRE (2022)

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i ran out fanfics to read

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my biggest ick in fanfic is when the reader is made out to be this hyper childlike person think rapunzel from tangled on crack it’s actually nasty

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Cillian Murphy | Financial Times | April 2024 🔥

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Sleep With Me, Anytime

Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader (with hints of: Marc Spector x Reader and Jake Lockley x Reader)

Summary: You and Steven live opposite each other and have been dating for a couple of weeks. One night you sleep at Steven’s during a storm. You get to meet Marc and Jake.

This is the 3rd and final part to the Suited and Booted series. Part 1 is here, and part 2 is here!

Warnings/Tags: No warnings. Fluff, forehead kisses, sleeping in the same bed, mentions of all 3 Moon Boys, just cute shit :)

Word Count: 3K

A/N: Credit to justoscarisaac for the GIF. It's beautiful. This fic is a personal favourite of mine, but as always if I’ve portrayed anything incorrectly please call me out on it so I can fix it! If anyone has any requests let me know because I would LOVE to write them!

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Outside a storm is raging. It’s past midnight, with the moon high in the sky, and you haven't slept a wink. You've been tossing and turning for a few hours now, and nothing is working.

Every clap of thunder makes you jump and each and every bolt of lightning makes you squeeze your eyes tight, almost as if if you couldn’t see it then it wouldn’t scare you.

But your tactics aren't working. You feel scared and alone.

So, you distract yourself. You decide to think about your boyfriend, Steven Grant.

You think about the past two weeks and everything that's happened, and how happy it's made you. You go over everything Steven told you after your date at the quiz night. He had promised you that he would explain everything about himself, and he had. The pair of you had sat on your sofa, and Steven’s life was revealed to you.

“You see, I’m not alone in this body. I uh- it’s a identity disorder, see? Technically I’m not even the original. I’m an alter. But I’m still me, still a real person. Still Steven.”

Steven’s explanation made sense. You had heard him in his apartment talking to other people, even though he lived alone. You asked him then, who were the other alters? How many of them were there? You wanted to understand, to finally figure out the life of Steven Grant. He had frowned.

“You don’t think of me differently, do you? Knowing that I’m not just…me? We all have the same brain, kind of. We all have the same body.”

“And so, do you all like me?” The question had slipped out before you had time to stop yourself.

Steven had chuckled, a little. He cocked his head to one side slightly, as if listening to a song far away. You couldn’t hear anything.

“Yes. That’s kind of the number one rule. We all have to agree on someone, you know, that we all like. There’s me, obviously. Then there’s Marc, he’s the original. His last name is Spector. And then there’s Jake. Jake Lockley.”

You had stayed silent for a little while, trying to take in the information. It was hard to process the fact there was three of them, and they all liked you.

“Right, so you’re the only one who…who fronts, then? Or is it like you all are there at once? Have I met Marc, or Jake?”

At that point Steven had explained how fronting worked. He explained who Marc was and what his job was. You had pulled away slightly at the word mercenary, and Steven had no choice but to tell you the whole story. He told you about Khonshu. And after everything, after Steven’s love for Egypt and the way he seemed so strong as well as smart, the fact he was a host for a god seemed believable. You believed Steven, and he couldn’t believe it.

“I know it’s a lot. And I promise I’m not making it up, that would be weird. I just want you to know the truth. And if you don’t want to know me after this, I get it. I really do.”

A rumble of thunder disturbs you from your thoughts, making you nearly jump out of your bed. You don’t want to bother Steven, he had enough issues to be worrying about without your irrational fear of storms being added to the list.

But, you can’t stop thinking about him. Can’t stop thinking about being wrapped in his arms, feeling safe and protected.

The pair of you hadn’t shared a bed yet, you hadn’t even done more than making out and holding hands on dates. Not that you minded. But right now all you want is to be in his arms, in his bed, knowing that you have someone to ride the storm out with.

You slip out of bed, flinching at every lightning strike, and find your slippers and keys. You’re wearing shorts and a tee, standard pyjamas by any means, and you don’t care if Steven sees you in them. You just want him.

You pad across the hall and knock on the door. If he’s asleep, and doesn’t answer, you’ll just go back and try to watch something on the telly instead. But deep down, you’re hoping that you knocked loud enough to wake him up.

The door opens and you’re surprised to see Steven looks wide awake. When he realises it’s you at his door, his demeanour relaxes and he pulls you into a hug.

“Y/N you okay? What’s wrong, love?”

He pulls away from you, all worried with scrunched up eyebrows and a pouty lip. He’s wearing an oversized jumper and baggy sweatpants. His feet are bare, which makes you think he might have been asleep, but the look on his face suggests he hasn’t been sleeping at all.

“The storm, I can’t sleep. I was wondering if maybe I could stay with you? But, only if that’s okay?”

Steven quickly glances behind him, and you suddenly realise you've never been in Steven's apartment before. It's always you at his, and you've only ever hung out outside of Steven's apartment before a date while you waited for him.

You can’t see what he’s looking at, and you think he’s going to turn you away and say you can't come in, but when he looks back at you he’s smiling.

"Oh, love. Come in, yeah? Good thing I was awake. I uh-" Steven pauses as you step into his apartment. The layout is identical to yours, but Steven's flat is way more lived in. There's stacks upon stacks of books all around the apartment, some on bookshelves and some rising up in wobbly towers from the floor. There's lamps on all around the apartment, giving it a warm and cosy feel, even though the storm is still raging outside. Somehow though, just by being with Steven, it doesn't seem to bother you as much.

There's a goldfish tank at the far end of the room, and there's maps and Egyptian posters plastered all over the walls and, just like the layout of your apartment, Steven's bedroom is on show. But it's much different to yours...

There's sand all around the bed, and some sort of restraint is tied to a pole at the end of the bed.

"It's not uh, not a sex thing. Promise." Steven shuts the door behind you and scoots over to his bed, shoving the restraint under it. "Before I figured everything out about Marc and Jake, I thought - well I thought I was losing my mind - but I thought it was a sleeping disorder. I haven't got rid of it because it's kind of, habit? I don't know. Sorry."

Steven is babbling, flattening out his bedsheets and trying to tidy the place up while you stare at him. You think it's cute, the way he gets flustered around you. You take a step closer to him, and take his hand.

"You don't have to apologise Steven. It's alright. Is that why you haven't wanted me to come over before?"

Steven shakes his head, "No no no, Y/N, I've wanted you to come round. I've just...not had the balls to ask."

He squeezes your hand and leads you to his bed, where you both sit down.

"Anyway, you're here now. The storm's scaring you, huh?" Steven brushes a hand through your hair, coming to rest his hand against your cheek. You move to kiss his palm.

"I hate them. And I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to disturb you, but the thought of sleeping with you just seemed so much better than sleeping alone."

Steven moves his hand away from your face, bringing it down to meet your hand. He blushes at your words, but he’s no longer seems ashamed of the affect you have on him. He wears his reddening cheeks with pride.

"You know I'd do anything for you, love. You can sleep with me anytime." His words are sweet, but as soon as he says them his eyes widen, "I mean like, in my bed. Not like sleeping together together, you know? Well, maybe. If you wanted."

You shut Steven up by laughing. Even the rumble of thunder doesn't make you jump. Instead, you pull Steven in for a kiss. "I know what you're trying to say. It's okay." You pause, "Why were you up anyway?"

Steven's blush has gone down, and his expression becomes more serious. "Khonshu. There's a mission. The lads are trying to plan something."

Steven glances at the mirror on his wall, and you follow his gaze. You know he's talking to himself, either Marc or Jake has something to say. You want to say hello, even though you can't see what Steven's seeing. You wish you could meet them.

"Oh. Right. Scary stuff then?"

Steven looks back at you, and a fork of lightning flashes in the window behind him. You jump a little, and Steven puts an arm around you.

"Let's not worry about that now, yeah? Why don't you get in bed? I'll turn out the lights."

You do as he says.

His sheets are soft and his pillows smell like him and you feel like you're in the midst of one big Steven hug. He goes about, turning off the light's one by one until it's just the bedside lamp left. His bare feet patter against the floor before he slinks into bed next to you.

"Shall I turn this light off, love?"

He turns to you, propped up in the bed on his elbows, and you drink in the sight. Suddenly, the storm doesn't even seem so bad. All you care about is Steven.

You scan him, looking at his perfect curls and kissable lips. His kind eyes and his gorgeous, goofy smile. You nod, and the light goes off.

It takes you a second for your eyes to adjust to the darkness, and while you do all you can here is Steven getting comfy beside you. You're on your side, facing him, and when your eyes adjust you realise he's facing you too.

You can feel his breath on your cheek and when a flash of lightning illuminates the room, Steven smiles at you.

"Hi." He whispers, as if just because it's dark now he has to be quiet. It makes you smile.

"Hi." You say back. You're aware of his body heat beside you, but there's a distance between you and none of your body is touching his. You reach an arm out and put it against his chest.

He reacts by shuffling closer, and puts an arm on your waist. Your pyjama top has risen up slightly and Steven makes contact with your skin. It makes your brain tingle with delight.

"So," you say, trying to distract yourself, "When you say the lads are planning something, does that involve you?"

Steven's rubbing slow circles against your skin with his thumb, and it's the most soothing thing you've ever experienced. You start moving your fingers against his chest, rubbing the fabric of his sweater.

"Yeah, yeah. It involves me. I'm 1 out of 3 of the protector of the night, you know?"

There's a joking tone in his voice, and you're aware he's trying to make the situation lighter than it actually is. You almost laugh, because you realise now you're both whispering to one another about a very serious topic of conversation.

“So, you’ll have to go soon, then? To deal with…whatever the mission is?”

"Yeah. It's okay though. I've got the suit. I've got Marc and Jake. They'll have my back and we'll be home to you in no time." Steven moves his hand from your waist to stroke your cheek again.

"The suit?"

"Yeah. The ceremonial suit of armour from Khonshu's temple. Although my suit isn't like Marc or Jake's, mine's sharp and has style, you know? I did say to you that I'm suited and booted sometimes." Steven chuckles to himself and you smile. You've never seen the suit, but the way Steven describes it makes you believe you'd find him sexy in it.

But your mind isn't fully focused on that. Your mind keeps replaying something he said only moment's again

"Hold on. What did you say? You said we'll be back to me in no time. As in, all three of you. Like, like-"

"Love, I did say to you we all have feelings for you. We all want to come home to you after this mission. You're what keeps us going."

At Steven's words you subconsciously move closer. You move your leg on top of his and he shifts. He's on his back and now you're hugging him like a koala on a tree. Neither of you say anything, because neither of you mind. Your heart is racing.

"That's the nicest thing anybody has ever said to me." You tilt your head upwards to look at Steven, who's already looking at you. Thunder and lighting go off at once, suggesting the storm is close, but it doesn't matter to you. You take one look at Steven and kiss him, hard. One of his hands is playing with your hair, and the other is resting on your hip.

When you pull away, there's a thought lodged in your brain.

"Can I meet them? Jake and Marc? Only for a minute or two, only if that's okay? Can you do that, at will?"

Steven goes silent, and you're worried you've pushed your boundaries. The last thing you wanted to do was make him uncomfortable.

"Yes. Yeah. They...they'd like that. Are you okay with that? Try to think of it as me, but different. If you like them too, I won't be mad. If you want, it'll be like three boyfriends in one." Steven plants a kiss on your forehead, and you practically melt under his touch. The idea of being the girlfriend to all three alters makes you sweat, and your excitement has fully outweighed your fear of the storm.

"Okay." You whisper, " Let's do it. Please."

You're not sure what to expect, you know they'll look the same so it doesn't matter that the room is dark, but you don't know if they'll sound the same or act the same. You're not sure if you should move off of him or not, when something happens.

Something passes through Steven, and you feel the change immediately. The grip on your hip is slightly tighter and his body tenses slightly. You look up at him and it's the same guy, but different. In the dim light you can see his jaw is more set, and his eyes don't quite hold the same, soft glow as Steven does. But he's still drop dead gorgeous.

"Hey, Y/N. How's Steven's babygirl doing?" You do not expect the American accent that come's out of his mouth. He too is whispering, but he sounds much more confident. You're blushing at his word choice - babygirl - and you can't help but giggle.

"Oh, okay. Listen to you." His voice is full of satire and there's a smug smirk on his lips as he looks down at you. He's loving every second of how flustered you are. "I'm Marc, by the way."

First introductions are usually followed by a handshake, but instead Marc just pulls you closer to him so that your head rests on his chest and the hand on your hip moves to snake around you.

"Is this okay? Are you comfortable with this?" He whispers into your ear and if you were standing, your knees would have buckled.

Steven was sexy in his own goofy, lovable way. But Marc was next level. And in a weird way, after what Steven said, you didn't even feel like you were cheating. This all felt totally normal, as if you had spent just as much time with Marc as you had with Steven. You guess, in a way, you had.

"This is good." You don't want to look at Marc because you know you'll blush.

"Steven says he knew you'd love me as much as you love him." You can hear the smile in Marc's voice. He's started rubbing your scalp, your hair intertwined in his fingers. Then, Marc laughs. "Steven also says he doesn't mean love like love. What an idiot. I know the pair of you are taking it slow and haven't said that just yet but, by the way, it's obvious."

You look up at Marc this time, totally distracted by the way he's playing with your hair, and he winks at you. Although meeting Marc is exciting, and it's all very surreal, you're slowly getting sleepy. Your body's relaxed against Marc's and you stare at him through a happy, sleepy gaze.

"You wanna sleep soon, huh? Wanna meet Jake first?"

"Mhmh. Sure." You're nearly falling asleep. Your eyes droop and shoot back open, trying to stay awake.

"We'll make it quick, sleepy girl." Marc leans over to kiss your forehead.

You don't notice when he changes to Jake. But he doesn't disturb your sleepiness. He simply snuggles closer to you, resisting all his sexual urges, and holds you closer as you begin to drift off to sleep.

"Sleep well, princesa. I'll get my time with you yet. Guess I'm the lucky one who gets to watch you sleep."

Jake's words fall into the void, and you're asleep.

He watches over you all night, protectively cuddling you and brushing hair out of your face. Before morning comes, he switches back to Steven, who plans on sleeping for a couple of hours before you wake up. Jake has done Steven a favour by taking off the sweatshirt, and now he's shirtless beside you. Steven's nervous about it, but Jake gives him the confidence he needs. As Steven settles down, and you subconsciously cuddle into him, he whispers one last time.

"We're so lucky. So bloody lucky."

The boys agree.

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taglist: @later-gators12 @alicetweven @bristark616 @toracainz @dopeqff @insomniacfigure @allthingsvicf @leh2393

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season 2 spell like to charge reblog to cast