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fayes-fics · 1 month

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Lessons In Motion

Lessons Series Masterpost

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (threesome)

Summary: An eventful carriage ride with the boys.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, MMF threesome, no incest, dom/sub dynamics - dom!Bridgertons sub!reader, masturbation, dirty talk, mild degradation, light spanking/slapping, hair pulling, vaginal fingering, cockwarming, exhibitionism, breast play, edging, bondage restraint, sensory deprivation (blindfold), anal sex, vaginal sex, double penetration.

Word Count: 6.3k

Authors note: Is this the threesome I should be writing? No of course not. Sorry. This was indeed inspired by the synchronised head tilt in the s3 trailer 🤷‍♀️ Part of Lessons-verse, chronologically this takes place before Lessons in Breeding. Thank you to @colettebronte for betaing. Enjoy! <3

You bounce nervously in your shoes, craning to see the ride you are awaiting.

You slipped out the side entrance of the music hall, eager to escape prying eyes, leaving them to exit through the front, picking up their family carriage together. Being a guest in the family box for the evening is one thing; an unattached woman leaving publicly with two of the most eligible bachelors in the country is another matter entirely—you have no desire to provoke the wagging tongues of the Ton. But that does not mean you wish for your night with them to be over, far from it.

With a whinny, a two-horse carriage rounds the corner into the quiet street a few hundred yards from the venue and comes to a halt before you. The windows are all obscured by thick, draped curtains. So much so that you hesitate, hang back under the shadow of the mature oak. Until that is, the door swings open, and a very familiar face pops out, expression bemused.

“Does my girl not wish for a carriage?” Anthony teases with an expectant, fond tone.

You giggle and rush towards the vehicle, climbing in quickly. The door slams behind you as a fist knocks upon the ceiling to indicate for the driver to move on. The carriage is dimly lit by one tiny glass lantern flame flickering, both sets of eyes are eager on you, that molten heat in your belly as you sit opposite them, both so handsome.

“Did you enjoy your evening, gentlemen?” you query, feigning innocence.

They both comedically tilt their heads in brotherly unison, matching bemused grins claiming their lips as Benedict giggles behind his fist.

“Considering where you had your hands all night, you know well we did,” he pipes up, raising an eyebrow pointedly.

“Twas rather a boring recital, sir.” Your invocation of his play title makes his chest swell and his pupils dilate. “Should I not have kept myself sufficiently entertained?” He appreciates your sass, nodding with a knowing smirk.

Indeed, you were greatly entertained. But not by the singing onstage. Sitting in the Bridgerton family box, a rigid cock in each hand as you teased them mercilessly, the angle of the seating allowing you the privacy to do so unseen by other patrons. Never letting either of them climax, taking them somewhere close then backing off, each huffing quietly, a white knuckle grip on their chair arms, as your fingers were coated with pre-cum. Most entertaining indeed. At one point, Anthony had hissed how he would have you on your knees and down your throat if you prolonged the torture much longer, but you knew it to be an empty (and entirely welcomed) threat. Now, in the privacy of the carriage, you rather suspect you are about to be taught a lesson for that cheeky behaviour.

“I do believe it is time for payback, brother,” Anthony opines, voicing your exact suspicions, them exchanging their trademark glance—so much communication with no words.

“Yes, I rather suspect a lesson is in order: that which you do unto others, you should expect done unto you,” Benedict forebodes.

Your stomach ripples as he grabs your ankle and roughly pushes it out wide, a hand travelling up your leg, gathering your dress around his forearm as he does. Soon, they discover the secret you held this evening: that you wear no chemise, no stockings, no undergarments at all, in fact—just your blue silk dress and ballet-style shoes.

“You filthy little vixen,” Anthony growls as he sees a flash between your legs.

“Do not pretend this type of indecency is not exactly what you want from her, brother,” Benedict counters dryly as his hand trails up your inner thigh, your breath quickening as he reaches your apex. You cry out, staring Anthony down as Benedict's fingers plunge into your pussy, burrowing deep, leaning his head into yours. “Always so hot, wet and wanting, are you not?” he rumbles into your hair as his fingers start to rock.

“Yes sir,” you know better than to ignore a question that is asked of you. “Only for you and my lord,” you add, knowing they always want to hear it.

“That is right,” Anthony preens, fighting with the buttons of his trousers and taking his sizable cock in hand, watching you moan and squirm on Benedict's invading digits, dripping down onto his palm, the sounds he draws from your body already obscene. You have been soaked since teasing them at the recital.

“I bet even the driver can hear this tight little cunt. Our filthy beautiful girl just drenching herself like the bitch in heat she is…” Benedict remarks casually.

You love it when they call you such taboo names in play, an illicit thrill running down your spine as he smiles predatorily and curls his fingers, hooking against your pussy wall, making you gasp. It's not quite enough pressure. Your head swings to look at him, silently requesting more.

He chuckles. “What did I tell you earlier?”

“Teasing?”

He nods as you pout, sliding his lips right to your ear, his breath hot there. “Until you are a mindless and trembling creature who will do whatever we tell you to.”

You bite your lip and exhale raggedly, your belly constricting at the thought and at the sight of Anthony lazily pumping his cock, wanting to ride it so much your fingers flex upon the velour bench seat, rocking your pelvis with each stroke Benedict takes, hoping to catch a dash of friction upon your engorged clit. He tuts admonishingly when he senses what you are trying to do, curling his free hand around your inner thigh and spanking there. A stinging slap that makes you jump and mewl.

“Stop trying to come so hastily, darling girl. We decide if and when that will ever happen…” Anthony calls out from across the carriage, grabbing your leg and pulling it high and wide. He yanks off your shoe and bites your instep, not hard, but enough to make your whole body jerk, so you slide deeper onto his brother's fingers, moaning and throwing your head back, the rocking motion of the carriage somehow making it a worse tease.

“‘Tis not a long ride to either of your lodgings… surely you cannot tease me forever,” you speculate, spiralling slowly under such expert ministrations, an itch in your brain that needs to be scratched, even your teeth feel on edge.

“Oh, my girl, we are not headed to either place. Oh no. We are headed to our country retreat. The ride will take the rest of the night,” Anthony crows. “Our family will be remaining in London. So it will just be the three of us… with hundreds of acres to ourselves,” he grins devilishly, still slowly pumping his cock as he speaks.

“But…” you splutter, “I have nothing with me! No dresses, no shoes...” fretting mildly even as your stomach quivers with the thought of time spent alone with your boys.

“Oh, you sweet thing,” Benedict chuckles in your hair, rotating his fingers so they drag over that sensitive spot that makes you shudder. “As if we are going to let you wear anything except our jewels. You shall be naked for days.”

“If you truly object, say your word now,” Anthony states clearly. “And we shall drop you at your home.”

Benedict pauses his motions, awaiting your answer, both always respectful of your full consent. You look at them in turn, then merely shake your head fractionally, basking in their wolfish smiles. Wanting to do this with them—a new illicit adventure. The idea of days alone with both of them in a luxury country idyll is so beguiling. And a definite step forward in your dynamic as a throuple.

“Well, then, might as well tear off this dress right now; start as we mean to go on, right brother?” Benedict breezes as he withdraws his fingers from you, making you whine at the loss. But then he trails them across your decolletage, dipping his head to suckle your juices from your skin, his teeth sinking lightly into the swell of your breast, making you groan loudly and push up into his mouth.

“Agreed,” Anthony practically growls, pushing his trousers further down, cupping his balls now with his other hand.

“But my lord,” you stumble, tearing your eyes reluctantly from that tempting sight up to his face. “I need my dress to alight from this carriage when we arrive. Surely your staff should not see me naked?!" Your dissent is light, core pulsing at the mental image of them parading you naked up the front steps of a grand country house for all the gathered staff to greet your debauched arrival.

“Please,” Anthony withers, “what is a touch of nudity when they will likely find us fucking you in every way and place possible? Our darling little plaything, always so keen, are you not?”

“Yes, my lord, Always.”

Your whisper is obedient, watching him squeeze his cock more forcefully in his fist, his gaze locked between your splayed legs as Benedict yanks down your neckline roughly. The sound of fabric tearing fills the carriage, then their approving grunts as they realise you are without stays.

“Get her naked, brother,” Anthony orders brusquely.

He sets about the task with enthusiasm, your dress ripping along the seams as he deploys both large hands and tears the fine silk asunder. It is one Anthony had paid for, so you do not mourn its loss, you rather suspect he will replace it with one identical in short order.

“If I am always to be naked, then will you warm my body when I am cold, sir?” You coquette, batting your eyelashes, playing up the damsel in distress to Benedict as he pushes aside the remaining fabric from around your front.

“Always sweet girl,” Benedict promises duskily, trailing his palm down your flushed skin, pulling you in for a kiss that is all tongues and heat. It has you canting your now naked body into his, desperate for his fingers, or even better, his cock, to be inside you.

As if sensing your need, Anthony intervenes as your lips break apart, perhaps jealous at the amount of time his brother has had with you.

“Alright, enough of that. I think you are plenty prepared now. Come, my girl,” Anthony pats his thigh invitingly, “come sit on my cock.”

You make a victorious noise and slide out from around Benedict, Anthony grabbing your waist and spinning you around to face away from him.

“Hello, my darling girl,” Anthony greets, his tone like velvet, pulling you snugly against his frame, the brocade of his waistcoat tickling your spine.

Your responding greeting turns into a cry as he guides you down onto his cock, splitting you open in that way it always does, a stretch that is just the right side of discomfort, that heavy weight pressing far inside that you yearn for.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, grabbing your jaw and pulling you back into a plundering kiss, making you pliant in his arms.

“Fuck me, my lord,” you beseech when you realise he is holding your hips down with a slight force, preventing any movement.

“But we have hours,” he drawls unhurriedly, “how about you sit still and just enjoy the ride, hmmm?”

You mewl in protest; as much as the carriage ride is indeed a pleasant rocking motion, your clit is throbbing, needing friction, craving release. You attempt to coax him by squeezing his cock so he groans throatily.

“Stop that. If you defy me, I will never let you come.”

He forcefully grabs your knees and drapes your thighs on either side of his woollen trousers that are bunched around his hips, then splays his legs wide. There’s a burning stretch on your inner thighs as he now holds you obscenely open. You are powerless to do anything but sit obediently upon his cock, whining slightly as the need claws at the edges of your mind.

Across from you, Benedict watches, seemingly transfixed by the sight of you naked and pinned open, speared on Anthony's cock, whimpering as your attempts to move are quelled by those firm hands clamped on your hips. You watch as he unbuttons and takes himself in hand, just as Anthony had, his eyes hungrily raking over your body. It makes you want to climb into his lap and fuck him over and over.

“Will you fuck me, sir?” You lobby, hoping it will get a rise out of Anthony, that it will catalyse him into taking you hard, possessively.

“You know I will, sweet girl,” Benedict responds huskily. “But as my brother says, we have hours, and you will learn your lesson today…”

“I promise I have learned my lesson not to tease either of you,” you implore sincerely, hopeful for absolution, but both of them merely huff a laugh, suspecting it a hollow pledge.

You pout again but relent, leaning back into Anthony, accepting your fate. His lips graze your temple as you rest your head on his shoulder and try to get comfortable. Try to ignore the pulse in your engorged clit with every heartbeat. Try to ignore the press of his frenulum inside, a pressure you feel compelled to rub against. Try to ignore that tingle in your nipples where they pucker hard, desperate for a tongue or some rough fingers.

And that is how you stay for what feels like an eternity. Just the noises of movement and horses upon what is now a dirty track, bright moonlight seeping through the cracks in the curtains as you sit in silent submission, The rocking of the carriage meaning you must occasionally endure the jolts of his cock against your hilt, making your breath catch. Your eyes alternate between fluttering closed and opening to see Benedict idly grasping his cock, but it's too tempting a sight, so you swallow hard and close them again.

However, with your eyes closed, you see worse images dancing before you, taunting you. Flashes of them both lathing their tongues all over your skin, of you on your knees between them, a cock in your mouth and one pounding into your pussy, a loop of carnal push and pull. It makes you leak more, a trickle leaving your body and pooling at the base of Anthony’s cock, nestling in his hair there.

“I can feel how aroused you are,” Anthony purrs into your hairline, almost startling you after many minutes of quiet. “How it is taking every fibre in your being not to defy me. Let’s see how good you can really be for me. Remember, you may not move.”

That’s all the warning you get before his warm, lightly quill-calloused fingers slide over your clit, rubbing an agonisingly light, slow circle. Not enough to do anything but make you shudder and pant, needing more, tiny sparks igniting through your heavy pelvis. Fighting so hard to keep your hips still, wanting more than anything to buck up, bear down onto the hook of his fingers, frottage yourself until you come clenching around his cock so steely and hot inside you.

“Please, my lord,” you grit out, turning to bury your nose into him, huffing his spicy amber cologne, lips brushing the rasp of stubble on his strong jaw.

“I could listen to you beg all night,” Anthony confesses and there’s an edge to his voice that is dark, dangerous, unyielding.

You lament when his fingers disappear, but he rolls his hips with the motion of the carriage, his cock sliding just a fraction deeper, making you cry out, the change of angle promising so much. Your hand flies out for purchase upon something solid but instead seizes the carriage curtain, unintentionally pulling it back so the glass is revealed.

“Oh, excellent idea!” Anthony lauds. “Yes, show yourself to the world, darling girl; show what a wanton thing you are for us.”

By now, though, the busy streets of Mayfair are long behind you. You are out in the darkness past Blackheath, moving fast down the Dover road to rural Kent. If there are any prying eyes, they will only catch a glimpse of you utterly naked, seated upon a clothed Viscount.

“Open the rest, brother,” Anthony clips.

Your eyes ping to Benedict as he releases his cock and pulls open the draped fabric on either side, hooking it back so the inky blackness of night is all around you.

“Imagine being seen, my girl,” Anthony baits. “There could be a highwayman right now lurking among those trees.”

Benedict leans forward, his hand suddenly clasping the jewelled necklace draped around your throat, the one Anthony presented you with just last week. His motion pulls you upright away from Anthony, the tilt of his cock inside you catching your breath.

“They may want this darling girl,” Benedict joins in. “Will you give it to them? Or will you offer something else instead in order to keep it? A more precious jewel perhaps….” He releases your necklace and trails that hand down between your breasts, over your belly, spidering lower until he grazes your clit. “Will you allow him this? Your greatest treasure?”

You moan loudly at his expert touch, a stroke of his middle finger under the hood of your clit making your whole body quake.

“N-no sir, I would not,” you stumble. “That belongs to my lord and to you.”

“Oh, good answer,” he winks, eyes twinkling in the moonlight streaming in as his now wettened finger traces back up over your belly. “But what if that is what we wish? To watch you be fucked by a stranger? A thief in a mask? Would you then?”

“I would do whatever you and my lord want, sir,” you pledge truthfully, then inhale sharply as he grabs the back of your neck and moves in close, his lips ghosting yours as he speaks again, teasing you with an almost kiss.

“I could watch you be fucked by a dozen men and enjoy every single one. I do so love the way your eyes roll when you are being taken rough. How you always, always plead for more, greedy little one that you are.”

Your eyes flit down to see his other fist speeding up around his cock. It makes you clench around Anthony, who groans hard, the air in the carriage somehow notching hotter, tighter, like it’s a fight to breathe.

“Sir,” you murmur on his lips, “Please help me; I am in such need.”

You feel as much as see that crooked, laconic smile claims his face, his cock still in hand. “What do you want from me, darling girl? Be specific, maybe I will do it…”

“Suck my nipples,” you request boldly at his enticement as he tilts back to watch you speak. “Maybe bite them a touch? Use your wonderful fingers upon my pearl; you can surely see it is so swollen...”

You know such explicit language will work for him, and sure enough, his nostrils flare as you ask for precisely what you need, his tongue flicking out to trace around his lips.

“Brother, will you allow it?” Benedict checks, his gaze flitting briefly to the man you sit upon.

“I will,” Anthony concedes, “on one condition: do not let her come, not yet.” He grabs a fistful of your hair, making you inhale sharply, jerking you back against his body, trailing his nose over your cheek. “I do so need her desperate and crying pretty tears for me before I shall allow that.”

Benedict slides to his knees before you, between your splayed legs, and you tremble as his damp lips ghost over the valley between your breasts, nuzzling your skin, inhaling deeply, trailing the point of his nose left to your nipple. You moan loudly as he suckles you into his hot mouth, lips pursed around your puckered teet. Then he glances the edge of his front teeth over your skin, causing a shudder down your spine. His hand cups your other breast, fondling your nipple with swipes of his thumbpad, teasing, while his teeth clamp down and tug away—a beeline to your core.

You mutter a curse and thrash your head a little, settling on pressing your nose into Anthony’s neck and whimpering lightly, so much sensation coursing through you, his cock is still rigid and unrelenting inside you. Muttering as Benedict keeps feasting upon your breasts, biting, suckling, fondling, not allowing you one moment without the tormenting thrill, a quake in your thighs, an odd tingle in your arms, a pressure behind your belly that is a ball of need, wound tight like a spring.

“Sweet, sweet girl,” Anthony sighs, wrapping an arm around your head, his bicep bulging against your face through his jacket. “Now you have some sense of how we felt earlier tonight…”

At that, Benedict slides his thumb over your clit, flicking in a sideways motion that has you screaming into Anthony’s skin, clawing your hands into both of their hair, grasping their scalps and making them both growl.

“My lord, sir, please….”

It's a broken, pitiful sound, teetering as you are, reality a blur, a buzz in your brain that is febrile. A tear of frustration prickles your eye at the prolonged agony of denied ecstasy. Just as you are incapable of defying them anymore and have to break, Benedict pauses, pulls back, and watches with that killer smile as you protest even louder, breasts wet with his saliva, goosebumps covering your entire body.

“She is so beautiful like this, brother,” Benedict groans, grabbing himself again and squeezing a few times as if staving off his own orgasm. “You should see it from here….” he adds as he falls back upon the opposite bench.

“I want to,” Anthony confesses, kissing your temple. “I want to see what you look like, my girl, struggling like this; I wish this damn carriage had a mirror….”

“There is one way….” Benedict shrugs, probably aiming for nonchalant but missing entirely. “She may do the same to me?”

“Do you want that, my girl? To sit upon my brother as well?”

“Yes, my lord,” you confess, always eager to gratify them both. “Will I be allowed to come if I do?”

He chuckles into your skin. “Not yet. But if you are good for him too, maybe then.”

Hope flares as Anthony closes his legs and hoists you up and off his cock, you emitting a slight lament at the loss of him as he helps you to turn around and guides you onto Benedict’s lap. Before you know it, you are once again invaded intimately, the stretch different in ways you can’t fully articulate but just as wonderful. Sliding deep, Benedict’s responding moan is hot in your ear as you settle upon him. He hooks your legs over his in the same manner Anthony did, pushing his knees wide open, perhaps even more so, and you hiss at the tugging sensation in your tendons.

“See, brother?” Benedict crows. “Look how spectacular she is…” the words are nuzzled into your temple as he drops a sighing kiss there.

“‘Tis quite the sight…” Anthony agrees lowly as he starts to unwind his cravat while sitting back to admire you. “But I feel she may need those rebellious hands restrained….”

Your belly roils as Anthony grabs your wrists, jerking them forward and binding them with the soft white silk, looping the fabrics many times before tying a tight bow that is unyielding. He doesn’t even ask for your colour, knowing such things are always a green light. What’s new is he guides your bound hands up high, then backwards, curling them behind Benedict’s head with an amused arched eyebrow.

“Don’t you dare move those arms until I say so,” Anthony warns, and all you can do is nod and bite your lip.

“Oh, excellent idea,” Benedict rhapsodises, staring fervently down the plane of your body draped naked over him.

It’s all at once similar and yet different to moments ago with Anthony: the stretch of a cock impaling you, the ache in your thighs forced so wide open, but now with the pulse in your wrists with your hands bound behind Benedict’s strong neck, your fingernails sinking into the plush ruched fabric on the wall behind.

“Watch me, my girl,” Anthony commands.

Drowsy and shaky with unmet needs, you observe as he touches himself again, his proud cock still glistening with your juices as it passes through his fist, tempting, teasing you. Attempting relief by undulating upon Benedict, but balance is more difficult now your hands are bound, instead resorting to supplicant pleas, hoping his empathetic nature will win out.

“Not yet,” he soothes through gritted teeth, but you can sense his quandary, wanting so much to rut into you, his hands flexing upon the dip of your waist.

“You believe I have learned my lesson, do you not, sir?” Your soft appeal is blatant manipulation, reluctantly looking away from Anthony to twist sideways and stare beseechingly into his hazy blue eyes, finding a storm of desire there. Your lips tingle for his kiss as he goes to answer but is interrupted.

“Stop trying to cheat my girl,” Anthony counsels tersely. While he has welcomed Benedict into your dynamic, sometimes residual jealousy rears when you appear to have a moment of connection with his brother, wanting to gain control—the upper hand.

“You heard him. So, are you going to be a very good girl for me?”

Benedict’s voice is a resonant vibration through your back, his frilly shirt tickling your spine. You would do anything for him when he asks like that. Your resounding nod is rewarded with a kiss, and his long fingers snagging around your nipples, your pussy clenching reflexively upon him as his tongue rolls over yours. It makes him stutter a growl into your mouth, which tastes like sin laced with smoky whiskey.

And so you do as asked—sitting meekly, submissively, that heavy distracting weight inside you keening quietly, throbbing between your legs as Benedict tweaks your nipples almost lazily between his paintbrush-calloused fingers, his lips on your neck, sucking gently, a sensation that is all soft, wet heat. Your hooded gaze is glued to Anthony idly stroking himself, only a fraction of movement designed to keep himself aroused, no doubt.

Minutes tick by, so you lean back into Benedict’s body as his touch softens, allowing your breathing to syncopate to his, his chest rising and falling against your back. Despite your thrumming arousal, the effect is soporific, and you find yourself growing so sleepy, eyelids too heavy…

…“Wake up, sweet girl,” Benedict’s bemused voice rings in your ear.

You startle, having no concept of how much time has passed. You are impressed when you realise he is still rock-hard inside you, your legs closer together now.

“For how long was I asleep?” You query, stifling a light yawn. A warmth blooms behind your ribs when you realise that, at some point, they unhooked your arms from behind Benedict's head, your hands resting in your lap, still bound in Anthony’s cravat.

“About a quarter hour,” Anthony chuckles. “You looked so peaceful, but we decided to rouse you to deliver the good news. We believe that you have indeed learned your lesson, sweet girl….”

“Yes, my lord, I have!” You enthuse, suddenly awake again, feeling an instant quickened throb in your clit, hoping it means they will finally take pity on you, fuck you, let you come.

“Then it is time for your reward…”

Anthony’s tone is both benevolent and filthy as he flicks open a small vial that he must have retrieved from somewhere while you were sleeping. He shuffles his trousers down his legs a little further, the smell of olives and clove swirling in the air as he pours the oily substance onto his cock.

“What is my reward, my lord?” You ask as your stomach clenches.

But you already know. There is only one reason he does this. It’s when he wants to claim your bottom, not your pussy.

“You get both of us inside you at once, darling,” he answers with a dangerous smile, and Benedict groans as again, on instinct, you clench around him in excitement.

“She likes that idea, brother,” Benedict offers sardonically from behind you.

“Use your cravat, sir, blindfold me,” you petition, twisting your head to look at him, wanting to feel as much as see tonight.

“By god, I adore you,” Benedict gruffs, his voice laden with admiration and arousal as he dives in for a quick kiss.

Then you feel him fighting off the teal silk behind you, unwinding it rapidly before settling it gently over your face, the gossamer soft fibres still warm from his neck, scented lightly of him. He ties a bow behind your head and then drops a kiss on your shoulder. Then two sets of hands assist you up off of Benedict's cock. You revel in their touch as they gently spin you and guide you backwards onto Anthony’s now bare lap, his trousers around his knees.

As the carriage rocks gently, two oiled fingers slide between your cheeks, and Anthony whispers sweetly as he swirls a finger around your bottom, extolling soft praises as he always does when he takes you here, preparing you for him.

When you murmur that you are ready, you exhale shakily as you feel that intense blunt pressure, now more familiar to you, as he breaches your tight hole, your body stretching to accommodate his oiled cock, slowly sinking into his lap as you take slow, relaxing breaths.

“Exquisite,” he stutters, his hands moving to hold your waist tightly, guiding you the last few inches until you are seated to his root—the utter fill like a sense memory. After a few moments of allowing you to adjust, Anthony changes his stance, pulling your legs open wider and shifting inside in a way that feels pleasurable and makes your hands flex in your binding.

“You like that, do you not?” you can hear the smirk in Benedict’s voice even if you can't see it, feeling his intense gaze upon your body as you raise your head to the sound of his voice and nod.

“Hands above your head, my girl,” Anthony instructs, and instantly, your hands shoot up, the silk binding on your wrists flexing as Benedict grabs your arms and hooks them behind Anthony’s head, his heat looming over you as he does so.

“Good, now are you ready for me too?” he checks, and you just know he has an arched brow, that menacing look; you can hear the pump of his cock in his fist, saliva gathering in your mouth at the very thought.

“Yes, sir.”

“You do not want gentle tonight, do you?” Benedict intuits, likely seeing the hunger writ large across your blindfolded face as he kneels on a little footrest; you can feel his hips at the perfect height, the edge of his cropped jacket snagging the soft skin of your inner thigh.

“No, sir.”

“So very different to the first time we did this,” Anthony remarks knowingly in your ear, invoking the memory of that landmark night in your burgeoning dynamic—the night you truly became a throuple.

It makes you almost wistful even in this carnal moment, that now familiar press of both their bodies, of being sandwiched between them as Benedict leans in. Although tonight, it is not warm skin upon yours, but the slight scratch of wool, the tickle of silk as they remain clothed.

“Perhaps we indulge you too much, with both of us at once…” Anthony chuckles.

“No! Let me have both..” you twist back to implore him, even though you cannot see. “I need you both so much, my lord, sir, I am aching…”

“Well, I cannot deny such a pretty appeal as that, brother,” Benedict avows, and that is all the warning you get before he guides himself into you.

You groan loudly as his tip nudges into your pussy, the stretch of two cocks always making your eyes roll, your toes scrunch hard. Anthony’s hands grasp your thighs, holding you open as Benedict slides deeper inside, their breath uneven, knowing they can likely feel the pressure of each other as much as you can. A curse slips from your lips as they both finally rest entirely within you.

“Darling girl, you always take us so well,” Benedict’s voice lauds, dark and decadent, “so magnificent.”

Your eyelids flutter hard against his cravat, bound and blindfolded, split open upon two cocks… you can think of nowhere else you would rather be.

“Please fuck me…” you entreat, feeling as if you have been pleading for hours with them, your mind scratchy, clawing, like a wild beast clambering up the sides of the carriage, wailing to be sated.

You almost howl as finally, finally, they take pity upon you. Benedict withdraws and then thrusts back into you, aided by the rocking motion as the carriage hurtles through past the fields of Kent, the journey seeming to speed up, mirroring the fevered atmosphere within.

Blindly, you seek a kiss from them both, swivelling to Anthony, then Benedict. Desperate, hot, open mouths meet as you start to set a rhythm together, the friction and fullness radiating pulses of pleasure outwards from where you are joined.

You love it when you are caged between them like this, pinned, hands tied, unable to see. Unable to do anything, indeed, but submit to their whims, entrusting your body and gratification utterly to them, to lay back and take it. Take the endless surges of pleasure, the push and pull, the drag of them both inside you as they change tempo, catching you unawares and making you moan and babble. The noises they wrench from your body are drowned out by the thrum of wheels upon dirt, by the thundering of hooves before you, all of you chasing destinations, literal and ephemeral. Windows fogging with panted breaths, the carriage air almost cloying, all three of you moaning unfettered as pleasure mounts.

“Do you think the coachmen above can hear us?” you gasp out, eyes rolling at the overwhelming sensations of both moving within you, their hips snapping roughly.

“Do you honestly care?” Anthony challenges, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he rolls under you.

“She wants them to watch, most likely,” Benedict pants, his hands a vice-like grip on your waist as he fucks into you.

When you do not respond they both huff a laugh.

“Your silence says so much,” Anthony remarks and suddenly, your hair is in his fist, the force making your back arch, sliding both of their cocks deeper, your moan unbridled. “Whose good little whore are you?” he demands hotly, a glance of his teeth upon your jaw.

“Yours,” you rasp, eyes fluttering against your blindfold, head tilted to the carriage ceiling, feeling the burn on your scalp, your nipples pebbled hard against the rough rasp of Benedict's jacket lapel.

“Then repeat it,” Benedict bites out, his mouth sucking harshly upon your shoulder, leaving his mark, a darkened patch you know he will have you look at in the mirror in the coming days.

“I’m your good little whore,” you echo breathily, for them both, the degrading words ratcheting you higher.

They both groan at your utterance, their hands becoming a more urgent hold. Fingertips grazing and tweaking your nipples, you know not whose. Teetering so close, you beg. Beg them to go faster, to touch your clit, to hold you down, be rough, do anything to make this fever upon your skin, buzzing in your mind, break over you, release you from this prolonged heightened state, leaking profusely around their cocks, slack-jawed, strung out with need.

When a hand worms between your bodies, snagging against your clit, you convulse around them, both groaning at the restriction, curse words falling from them in harsh pants as finally you reach the peak you have been seeking forever. One flick of a thumb, and you are gone.

The intensity of your orgasm is breathtaking: transported and hurtled into the skies far above, your whole pelvis contracting and rippling around both of them as they cry out as your vice-like grip. Static buzzing in your skull as they seem to sandwich into you even harder, your lungs gasping for air as your body feels rearranged, your mind floating on a sea of bliss as their movements become harsher, more desperate, you pulling them over the edge with you. Benedict withdraws suddenly, a warmth splashing upon your lower belly as Anthony growls hard under you, feeling the ripple of his cock as he releases inside your bottom.

For a few moments, it’s just panted breaths, all slumped together in a damp pile. Exchanging sated smiles as they tenderly unwrap the cravat from around your eyes and wrists, delicately kissing your skin as you rearrange. Playtime over, back to yourselves, a shared affection between that is undeniable now.

“How much longer until we reach your country home?” you ask as you curl up into their joint embrace, hands caressing your skin in soothing swirling patterns, a languorous pull in your bones now that you are finally satiated. A flickering glow behind your ribs at the idea this is just the start of something new with your boys.

“I have absolutely no clue, my darling,” Anthony confesses with a carefree bubble of laughter, “and I do not particularly care as long as you are in our arms, right brother?” he adds, tilting his head leisurely towards Benedict.

“Absolutely,” Benedict concurs, “If only all carriage rides were this stimulating…” he jests wistfully.

“They could be… if you always take me with you,” you breeze, giving him a chaste kiss.

“We shall never travel again without you,” Anthony attests over a stifled yawn, his stubble abrading your collarbone as he burrows his head into your neck and sighs contentedly.

And that is how you all finally rest, a tangled pile of limbs, your naked body warmed by their tight hold as the carriage whisks you through the countryside under a blanket of stars.

Taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @vane28282 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @kisskissshutmydoor @y0ur-favgerman @sya-skies

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 days

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SOFT LAUNCH

A/N: luckily i actually wrote this concept for once lol

WORD COUNT: 2k

SUMMARY: You officially soft launch your relationship.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Your usual barely changed when your relationship with Harry moved from a friendship to a romantic relationship. Well, at least your public usual.

Because in the privacy of your home or when around you it’s strictly the people you trust, a lot changed. The kisses, the touches, the looks, it’s obvious just how hard you fell in love with each other and your friends often tease the two of you for being great actors for hiding all of these the moment you step out into the public. Very early into your relationship the two of you agreed to keep it as private as possible, so the world didn’t see a single thing of how you eased from being friends into becoming a couple.

Spotting you out and about together wasn’t a new thing, you’d been friends for a while before you finally took everything down another road, there were plenty of pictures of the two of you grabbing lunch or coffee, hanging out with friends or even attending events. The moment you were spotted for the first time rumors started spreading that you might be an item, but with time they died down and back then, they weren’t true. But what people didn’t see was the shift that happened behind all those simply friendly pictures, how you both fell for each other and your love blossomed steadily and undeniably behind the scenes while everyone else started to accept that you are nothing more than good friends.

There were photos, still, but what the tabloids didn’t see was the kiss you shared the moment you were behind closed doors.

It’s been over ten months and you’re definitely over that first phase where all you can see is the pink clouds, no one around you is questioning if this is just a fling, it’s quite clear you are planning your future together.

There is a downside of keeping your relationship in the shadows however, a kind of freedom is taken away that’s given for everyone else. Date nights have been restricted to your or Harry’s place, if you wanted to go out somewhere you always needed extra people around you so it wouldn’t look romantic. You haven’t been able to go on a vacation, just the two of you, because it would draw suspicion, so it’s been always with others, friends and family. You can’t set your favorite photo of him as your lockscreen, because fans are always quick to spot him in the tiniest details.

It’s not that you want to post about him day and night, that’s not your style, never was, you like to keep things private, it might be selfishness or consciousness, doesn’t matter. But some days it would be nice to hold his hand as you walk down the street, share a reassuring kiss as you wait in line at the coffee shop or share a photo to your Instagram that features him and only him.

So it’s been lingering in the back of your head, the thought of being just the tiniest bit more public, allowing yourself to enjoy your love outside of the comfort of your home.

This is what your mind is racing about as you watch Harry move around the room. The warm Italian sun is peeking through the curtains, calling your name for another wonderful day, exploring Rome. The white, rippled sheets are snaked around your body comfortably, the other half of the bed is still warm from his body. You’re currently residing in a villa that’s hidden enough from curious eyes to let you be yourself even in the backyard, not just inside.

You mindlessly scroll through your photos from yesterday while Harry is showering and when he appears with a towel wrapped around his hips, hair still damp, water drops running down his chest as he is scratching his jawline and you already know what his question will be. He stops at the end of the bed and opens his mouth, but you’re quicker.

“Do you think I should shave it?” you ask, imitating his voice by lowering yours. He gives you a cheeky look.

“Well, should I?”

“Told you, I love you both ways.”

“Okay, but you surely have a preference,” he pushes.

Sighing, you sink deeper into the pillow, keeping eye contact with him.

“The stache is… always more than welcomed.”

He chuckles and then walks back in. When he emerges a minute later he is dressed and his facial hair is still the same.

“Up, up! We have a lot to see today!” He reaches under the covers and easily finds your leg, wrapping his hand around your ankle he tugs on you gently, to which you just grunt at him disapprovingly.

“Just five more minutes!”

“Come on, don’t you want to explore more?”

“Yeah, but I also want to sleep more.”

“Think of all the pasta and pizza we could be eating right now…” He barely even finishes, you’re already jumping out of bed, sprinting towards the bathroom. Harry just chuckles.

A couple of hours later your little group is grazing the streets of Rome again. You haven’t planned anything major for today, just exploring and having a relaxing time. To be honest, your feet are thankful for a slower day, you feel like you’ve walked around the world these past couple of days.

Sometime after lunch, your group breaks up. Some want to go souvenir shopping, others want to go back to the villa while you and Harry plan to check out a hidden little park you read about online. So now it’s just the two of you strolling down the streets and as you listen to Harry talk, all you can think about is how your hands are hanging by your sides, sometimes even brush against each other, but you can’t hold his.

When you find a great spot with amazing view of the city you instantly want to take a picture together, one where Harry is hugging you from behind, the panoramic view of the city in the background, you can already see the picture in your mind and you also think of a place in your home where it would look amazing framed.

But you know you can’t take a photo like that, you can sense how a few girls recognized the two of you, now they are a few feet away, pretending like they are just casually taking videos, but you know they are recording you and Harry, so you can’t risk it.

Instead, you both just take pictures of each other, staying as friendly as possible. Your phone is still in your hand when the girls come up to Harry at last, starting a chit chat with him and asking for photos that you end up taking of them of course. They thank his time politely and the two of you move on.

When you’re lying in bed at the end of the day you’re scrolling through your gallery, smiling to yourself at some of the candid pictures you’ve snapped of Harry today. These are your favorite, when he is just being himself and you catch a glimpse of his true essence, keeping it forever in that frame.

Then you find a photo you took probably accidentally when the girls approached you earlier. You must have snapped it when you were putting away your phone, it features Harry standing on the cobblestone, but only his feet and his tattooed arm is shown, his skin is a warm tanned color from being out in the Sun so much lately, his tattoos look so cool, you always loved the edge they give him. It’s also such a candid picture and for some reason you just love it so much, it’s exactly the kind of photo you’d post on your Instagram story.

The door to the bedroom opens and Harry walks in with two bottles of water in his hands, he places one to your nightstand before he joins you in bed, opening his.

“Why are you staring at a photo of my… arm?” he asks with a chuckle, when he sees what you have open on your screen.

“You have a nice arm,” you grin up at him. “I just… like this photo,” you add with a shrug.

Harry hums, but doesn’t really get stuck on the topic. He turns his attention to his own phone, sneaking one arm under your head, pulling you closer to cuddle him. But you’re still stuck on the photo and all the feelings and thoughts you’ve been struggling with.

“H?” you finally lift your head to look at him.

“Yes baby?”

“Have you ever thought of… being a bit more public? About us?”

He locks his phone and puts it aside to give you his undivided attention. He never fails to make you feel like his number one priority.

“I have, yeah.”

“And what do you think if we just… went for it? What if we just stopped hiding.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I just… I would love to act like a couple more, not just when we’re alone, behind closed doors. I’m not saying we should make out on the street, but… Holding hands, a few tiny kisses, these would be nice.”

Harry stays silent and you grow nervous that he might see it all entirely differently. You know it better than anyone else that Harry values his privacy highly, however he is not the most private public figure either, that’s also fact.

His gaze finds yours and slowly, you notice a tiny smile hiding in the corners of his mouth.

“Whatever you feel comfortable with, I’m okay with that as well.”

“Really?” You let out a relieved breath as you sit up in surprise. He chuckles.

“Of course. I just wanted to protect you. And I will still be doing that, but if you feel like you’re okay with being a couple for the rest of the world as well, then let’s do that.”

At first you pout at him, touched at how calm and supportive he is about the whole thing, then you just throw yourself at him, kissing him stupid.

“So then can I soft launch you?” you ask against his lips.

“What?” he laughs, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Soft launch. I want to post this picture,” you say holding up your phone again, showing him the photo from earlier, “on my Instagram story. Your face is not shown, but everyone will know it’s you. That’s a soft launch, posting a suspicious but not straight forward picture of your partner.”

“Okay, Miss Urban Dictionary,” he laughs, his hand cupping the back of your head to bring you down for another kiss.

Cuddling to his side you open Instagram and then put the line ‘LOVE-ly day in Rome’ between his tattoos so it’s not quite what you notice at first, but it definitely catches your attention if you look at the photo for a few more seconds.

“How do you like it?” you ask, showing him your phone.

“The best soft launch of history,” he teases you before you finally post it.

Then you watch what happens together. Though you don’t have as many followers as Harry does, a lot of his fans engage with your social media profiles as well, hoping to get some content from you as well. Just a few minutes later the photo starts spreading across the internet of course, it reaches Twitter, Tiktok and other platforms, the reactions are mixed and pretty much all over the place, some aren’t the nicest, but Harry is quick to remind you just how much he loves you.

When you both put your phones away, shutting the rest of the world out, you’re lying in bed, facing each other, your hands laced together between the two of you.

“Now it’s out there,” you whisper.

“Softly,” he jokes and you just roll your eyes at him, smiling. “Is hard launch a thing as well?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s that like?”

“Well, it has to feature your pretty face, preferably in a romantic setting.”

“Will we also be doing that?”

“Hmm… maybe.”

“Okay,” he smiles warmly. “But soft or hard, I will always love you.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

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oliver-quick-ens-my-pulse · 1 year

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I'm begging for some HC of Ominis and Sebastian masturbating over the female player 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻Like where they prefer to do it, how often, how much noise do they make, how much do they cum? Please describe them 😩

Ominis x f!reader; Sebsatian x f!reader

Warnings - 18+ smut content, all characters over the age of 18, masturbation

A/N - This really got to to me after all the Sebastian audio clips that have been floating around 😩

Ominis

- he prefers his privacy in the Undercroft, usually off in a dark part of it somewhere

- he always listens intently somewhat hoping you might stumble in and find him

- he fights his urges and only masurbates to completion in his favorite spot once a week

- other times he’ll mostly edge himself while showering, but he likes to build it up to make it better

- he doesn’t like it about himself, but he can be very noisy. He goes at a time when he knees Seb won’t walk in, if anyone does it’ll be you

- he makes gasps and groans as he thinks about your mouth, your fingers, your breasts

- with all sense but his eyes being so sensitive he just imagine the different textures and temperatures it would all of

- he picture soft breasts that give way to his cock, rough fingers wrapped him, a silky, hot mouth for him to fuck contrasted with your wet pussy clenched around him and feeling impossibly tight

- he loves thinking about you massaging his balls or his sensitive taint and teasing him about how much it makes him whimper

- he takes his time and it often means speeding up and slowing down to the point of his cock weeping, his own stick pre-cum all over his hand and probably his thighs or trousers too

- when he’s finally ready to let go he shouts quite loud, strangled moans of your name and curse words tumbling out of him

- he tries to contain his mess to his hand, but it all just oozes out because he’s usually got so much fun built up

- he’s messy, loud, and likes to maximize the orgasm to the fullest by trying to hold out until he’s so worked up he can’t take it

Sebastian

- his favorite spot is to get comfortable in his bed

- he uses a silencio charm after closing up all of the curtains

- he does it quite often, maybe almost daily with how desperate he is

- he’ll come back from having hang out with you and be ripping his tie off, pulling at all of his clothes because he can’t get naked fast enough

- he’s thinking about every flash of skin he’s seen from you, a day where you had a particular shirt skirt and you were all thighs

-a day your shirt was big and he got a glimpse at your shoulder, a broader peek at your chest

- Sebastian is really an ass man and heart and just thinks about how lovely it would be for you to be suffocating him with both of your holes just exposed to him

- he flushes but differently than Ominis in that it’s his whole body

- his freckles are peppered over his whole body and the fever from his arousal hair makes his face, neck, shoulders, chest, all of it red

- he’s desperately rutting into his own hand, spit included as he rushes towards the relief that he knows isn’t going to be enough

- he’s murmuring fuck over and over, maybe even little sentences he wish were real “fuck y/n ride me harder” “go faster” “be a good girl for me”

- when he finally cums his facial expression is everything and his whole body spasms, his mouth hanging up, him breathing heavily and tugging at his own sweaty hair

- he’s rougher with himself, he’s full of desperation 24/7 with how much he’s thinking about you, and he wants to take you right in his bed loving the idea of being naked around you when you’re not

#Sebastian sallow #Sebastian sallow smut #ominis gaint #ominis gaunt x reader #ominous gaunt smut #Sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy smut #hogwarts legacy #Sebastian sallow x mc #ominis gaunt x me #anon #hogwarts legacy headcannon #hogwarts legacy hc

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racnrollca · 9 months

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racnrollusa1 · 8 months

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#dance privacy curtain #privacy curtain for dance bag #hanging mirror for dance bag

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mrsriddlenott · 10 months

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~ Caught ll ~

Mattheo Riddle x Fem!reader

masterlist

Warnings:Annoying Friends, Language, Drugs(barley), Smut(almost)

Ever since the boys found out about you and Mattheo it had become increasingly difficult to find alone time since the only one that actually respected your privacy was Enzo. When they first found out Mattheo thought it was perfect, he thought he’d get to take you on dates whenever he wanted, not just at night. And the first time the group crashed one of those dates he was happy to have them join while he got to show off your relationship.

But when it kept happening over and over he became more and more annoyed with their presence. Even when you’d sneak out of the castle to avoid them, the boys seemed to always find you. So it wasnt a surprise when Mattheo saw the group running towards the Black Lake behind your shoulder as he kissed it, “Oh come on!! Can you just give me some fucking time with my girlfriend please?!?!”

“Seriously? This is why you wanted to come here of all places,” Enzo shouted waving his hands in the air as he stood infront of the other three. Over the last few weeks he had desperately been trying to keep the boys from highjacking your dates but to no avail. “I am not about to be a part of this,” he scoffed as he stomped back up the grounds.

“Hellooo Lovebirds, wanna spark this with us?” Theo sang as he held a joint out above Mattheo’s narrowed eyes. “No, no I do not, if I wanted to I would have stayed in our dorm when you fucking rolled it.” Mattheo snapped, already standing and pulling you along with him before Theo could speak.

“Stay here, smoke your joint, and do not come to our dorm anytime soon.” He entangled his hand with yours as you made your way to the castle and down to the dungeons quickly.

You both were giggling and thanking Merlin you could finally be alone again as you slammed the dorm door open to Enzo’s shocked face, “I’ll….Imma….I’ll just give you two the rooooom…” He laughed as he stumbled and rushed from the dorm room. Mattheo immediately turned to put a locking charm on the door before he picked you up to chuck you on his bed, joining you and tugging the deep green curtains closed around you.

“Finally,” He huffed out as he kissed you aggressively and tugged your shirt off above your head, pushing you backwards, covering your body with his. “It has been way too long,” He growled into your neck as he bit and licked up to your jaw, taking your lips in his just as fists pounded on the door. A muttered charm with a click of the lock signaling it was now open.

“Are they fucking serious right now?” He groaned as he collapsed ontop of you. “This is really starting to piss me off.” He muttered moving off of you and grabbing your shirt for you. When you both looked past the hangings of Mattheo’s bed he rolled his eyes back toward you as Draco, Blaise, and Theo took seats around the room, passing their joint without a care in the world, “I think I might go to Azkaban if this keeps up.” Mattheo sighed as he tugged the curtains closed again, falling back onto the bed and pulling you to lay on top of his chest.

When your dates and rendezvous continued to repeatedly fail, Mattheo decided to revert back to his old methods and soon you were being grabbed by the wrist and tugged into an empty classroom with zero warning just like old times. He was almost immediately picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist as you draped your arms around his neck. He kissed you all over as though he was starved while he carried you towards the teachers desk.

“I think we both agree we can just get started right Princess?” he laughed as he roughly placed you onto the desk, throwing papers to the floor and pushing himself between your legs. He moved to hike up your skirt as you unfastened his belt, letting you see how incredibly hard he was from the weeks of waiting to have you.

Mattheo kissed up and down your neck as he moved your underwear to the side while you began pulling him from his boxers and palming him lightly. He moaned louder than usual before smashing his lips into yours as he hastily lined himself up at your entrance beginning to push himself inside of you as the the classroom door was opened to laughs and high pitched mocks of “Princess,” from your friends.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Mattheo groaned with a deep sigh and closed eyes as he slammed his hand onto the desk beside your thigh, “Why the fuck are you guys even here,” He snapped, putting himself, still rock hard, back into his boxers and smoothing out your skirt to make sure you were decent.

“You’re hogging y/n, we barely get to see our best friend anymore,” Theo grumbled sitting in a chair as Mattheo gave him a fake, mocking sympathetic look before Blaise pulled himself up to sit on the desk next to you.

“Oh great just make yourselves comfortable,” Mattheo said with a roll of his eyes, gripping your thighs tightly and gritting his teeth, “not like we were busy with anything,”

“y/n Love, you want us hang out with you don’t you?” Draco asked with a joking pout as he leaned onto the desk beside you, “I know you miss us,” To be honest you did not miss them, there was no way you could, they gave you zero chance to anymore and at this point you were just desperate to be alone with Mattheo.

“How could I when you can’t ever seem to leave us alone” You snapped, looking up to him with a fake smile, “Ooohoohoo, someones sassy today,” Draco and the other boys laughter that filled the room only annoyed you further. “No Malfoy I’m pissed,” You rolled your eyes and took Mattheo’s hand as you hopped off the desk to leave the classroom, throwing your friends the middle finger before slamming the door shut.

“Let’s try my dorm again hm?” You smiled over your shoulder as you led Mattheo to the dungeons with your hand still in his.

“Merlin Princess, you have no idea how hot that was.” He chuckled as you tugged him into your dorm letting him kick the door shut behind you. “Oh really?” You chuckled as you turned back to him, his eyes roaming over your body as his fingers played with his lips, mumbling a very distracted “mhmm”, making you giggle. His eyes widened as he noticed you stepping closer to him, meeting your eyes as you grabbed his belt with a light tug towards your bed. He smirked down at you as he let you guide him, turning as you walked before you shoved him down onto your bed with force.

Mattheo smiled and chuckled happily as he let his head fall back while you crawled over him slowly. It wasn’t often that Mattheo gave over control, but when he did he absolutely loved it. You let your lips slowly trail over every exposed section of his body before finally reaching his lips and straddling his waist as you kissed him deeply. His hands immediately found your hips, tugging you forward on his still hard dick, the friction pulling a desperate moan from the both of you.

You trailed your lips back down his neck as your body moved lower, unbuttoning his shirt slowly and kissing each newly exposed section until your lips met his v-line. “Don’t be a tease Princess,” he sighed as he positioned himself on his elbows to watch your actions.

As you unbuckled his belt and trailed your tongue across the exposed skin above it your door swung open making Mattheo flop back onto your bed with a desperate groan close to a whine. For a second he only stared up at the ceiling, breathing slowly as the three boys made themselves at home around your dorm.

“Y’know what I don’t fucking care anymore,” he sighed as he sat up to grip your waist, pushing the both of you off the bed and tugging you towards your bathroom, “if you don’t wanna give us any privacy than you can just listen to me fuck her if thats what you really want.”

He lightly shoved you forwards through the door of your bathroom before slamming it behind you, turning to mutter a locking charm before looking at you with angry, hungry eyes.

~~~~

Caught III

Caught IV

Caught V

Caught VI

#Mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x fem!reader #harry potter #harry potter smut #smut #secret relationship #yn #x reader #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #theodore nott #lorenzo berkshire #mattheo riddle fluff #fluff #harry potter fluff

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prythianpages · 4 months

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Like An Angel | Eris x Reader

summary: Eris is dancing on the edge of despair when he finds you. The one person who reignites the flickering flame within him, breathing life back into his weary soul.

warnings: angst, slight mentions of abuse/burn marks

a/n: this is purely inspired by Kali Uchis's song Igual Que un Angel. I've been listening to it all day on repeat, it's sooo good! Eris came to mind when I thought of which ACOTAR male to pair to this song and I have been wanting to write something for him for awhile now 🥰

Eris slumps into an intricately carved chair, sore and bruised body sinking into the softness of the cushions. He hastily undoes the top buttons of his white dress shirt, wincing as he catches a glimpse of the maimed skin below. Exhaustion tears through his mind, body and soul. He tilts his head back, a silent effort to contain the tears that sting at the corners of his eyes, despite being in the privacy of his room. He refuses to let those tears cascade down his cheeks. He refuses to let his father’s cruelty win.

Sensing the weight of his pain, the oldest and leader of his hound pack approaches with a measured grace, emitting a soft, empathetic whine. Ember, her dark fur tinged with the wisdom of seasons, brushes against his trembling hand. The remaining hounds, still and watchful on their plush cushions in front of the fireplace, pivot their heads towards their master, their sharp eyes mirroring her concern.

A gentle lift graces the corner of Eris's lips as he strokes Ember's fur. He then eyes the other hounds and notices there is one missing. “Where’s Clover?” He quietly asks Ember.

As if answering his question, Ember nuzzles him once more before pacing toward the window. Intrigued by her behavior, Eris follows suit. He pulls back the heavy curtains and a panorama of gloom unfolds before him. The sky is laden with heavy gray clouds that hang low, concealing any glimpse of the sun. Raindrops compose a melancholic symphony, mirroring his inner turmoil, as they tap rhythmically against the window.

In the midst of the rain-soaked courtyard, he easily spots Clover–the youngest but fiercest of his hounds. She’s prancing around one of the court’s magnificent fountains, tail wagging happily behind her. Eris feels the beginnings of a smile forming on his face. It falters when his eyes catch the movement of another presence outside with Clover.

You.

You’re like a burst of sunshine on the gray canvas of the day– like an angel sent from above to shine light into the darkest corners of his soul, reigniting the flickering flame within. Your soft pink dress molds to your skin, yet you remain indifferent to the elements. As Eris marvels at your beauty, he thinks heaven must be your residence because not even the pouring rain can bring you down.

He blinks sharply, snapping out of his trance, as he hears the echo of Clover’s bark. His eyes widen when your laughter follows, and he watches as Clover chases after you. It's not the usual chase he sends his hounds for. This one is rare, playful, and Eris finds himself at a loss for words when Clover licks your arm and nuzzles against you. Such a tender gesture from one of his fiercest hounds. You must be the Cauldron’s favorite, he thinks as he feels a gentle stirring within him, awakening something deep in his chest.

Eris can’t bring himself to care for the way the cold rain stings at his fresh wounds nor the way his shirt and pants drenches immediately along with his hair. Clover’s ears twitch at the approaching footsteps but you don’t seem to hear them. You’re lost in your own world, eyes shut as you tilt your head up toward the sky and embrace the cool touch of rain against your burning skin.

Clover nudges at the hand at your side, alerting you of the new presence behind you, before happily darting toward Eris. He can sense the way his beloved hound holds back, as she must smell the injuries hidden beneath his clothes. She licks at his hand instead of jumping on him.

Eris wonders if he should wait to see how long it takes for you to finally notice him but he’s much too impatient for that. He clears his throat, and at the sound, you gasp, spinning around to meet his gaze. His amber eyes pierce through you, delving into the very depths of your soul, causing you to falter and instinctively step back.

A fleeting frown threatens to mar his features. He banishes it, concealing any vulnerability behind a stoic mask. "Who are you?" he questions, his voice sharp, the intensity of his gaze unwavering.

"y/n," you respond, blinking at him, your eyebrows furrowing at the abruptness of his tone. Your own voice carries a softer, much lighter tone and it’s as if the sky responds to your warmth, the rain slowing to a mild drizzle. Definitely the Cauldron’s favorite. "And who are you?"

Eris, with a taunting scoff, asserts himself as he takes a step forward. Closer to you. "You enter this court without knowing who I am? Has your mother neglected to teach you any manners?"

A downpour of regret engulfs him, more turbulent than the relentless rain from earlier, as he witnesses the glistening in your eyes and the subtle downturn of your lips into a frown.

“My mother is dead,” you say quietly, more to yourself than him, as you drop your gaze.

“I’m sorry,” his tone carries a genuine sincerity, and for a fleeting moment, his impassive mask wavers, the amber gaze softening. It invites you to meet his eyes once more. “I’m Eris.”

“Eris,” you repeat, eyes widening in recognition. There’s no hint of anger or guilt in your eyes at his earlier harsh demeanor. He finds a rare softness instead, the corner of your eyes crinkling as your lips form a small, welcoming smile.

“It’s nice to meet you, Eris.”

There’s a gentle fluttering, akin to the delicate wings of butterflies, awakening in the pit of his stomach because now that he’s up close and the rain has stopped, he can appreciate the depths of your beauty as you smile at him.

Clover nudges at Eris’s waist, eliciting a wince from the male. Your gaze swiftly descends, settling on his exposed chest, where a glimpse of red and irritated skin meets your eyes.

"Are you hurt?" you ask, and Eris is unexpectedly comforted by the genuine concern etched across your face over him. Someone you just met.

Engrossed in observing every little subtle shift in your expression, Eris fails to notice the hand you extend toward him. Delicate fingers graze against his skin, tender and cautious to avoid causing further harm and his breath catches in his throat. He’s almost certain you can feel the rapid heartbeat beneath.

“y/n! I’ve been searching everywhere for you! What are you doing out here? Are you mad? You’re going to catch a bloody cold and–” Sawyer, one of Eris’s younger brothers, voice wavers, prompting you to take a couple of steps back and put as much distance between you and Eris.

“Brother,” The younger Vanserra greets Eris as glances between you two. With his hands behind his back and shoulders held high, he approaches Eris. Fear flashes in his eye and he comes to an abrupt stop when Clover lets out a deep menacing growl, baring her sharp teeth at him. A striking contrast to the way she regarded you.

“I see you’ve met my future bride.” Sawyer steps closer to you instead, lips curling up into a smirk as he wraps an arm around your shoulder, forcing you closer to him. Eris doesn’t miss the way your body tenses at the possessive gesture.

Future bride. As the words sink in, Eris feels a rage of distaste simmering beneath his skin. No.

“Your father and mine are asking for you.” Sawyer says to you, brown eyes taking in your drenched form. His nose crinkles in disgust. “Gods, you’re a mess. Let’s hurry and get you changed. My father does not take lightly to those who make him wait. Why are you barefoot??”

Sawyer doesn’t bother to spare his brother a glance as he pulls you along with him, missing the way Eris fists clench at his sides. Even Clover’s gaze darkens, not liking the way Sawyer speaks to you in a condescending manner.

“I didn’t want to get my shoes wet…”

Eris hears you reply quietly as you struggle to keep up with Sawyer’s longer strides and the burn marks marring his skin are nothing compared to the burning ache set alight in his chest. Clover nudges his hand, sensing his distress the same way Ember had earlier.

“Heaven must’ve sent you, love,” he murmurs softly, his voice full of longing, as he recognizes the magnetic pull, akin to a golden thread, in his chest the further you walk away from him.

It’s as if you feel that pull too. You’re turning back to steal one more glance at him and in that moment, a myriad of emotions floods your wide eyes. Yet, there’s a purity that remains in the depth of your eyes, mirroring the innocence of heavenly beings and bringing life back into his weary soul. If only you had a halo and wings, the image would be complete…

Eris was aware of Sawyer’s upcoming arranged marriage but he never fathomed for someone as sweet as you to be his bride. People like you are a rarity, the subject of fervent prayers. A heart like yours is precious and on the verge of extinction in a brutal world like this.

You’re pure light, a beacon of goodness. One that the Cauldron favors but how cruel, he thinks, that the Cauldron does not favor him. It’s a bittersweet dance of fate because though you are close to him, you remain just beyond his grasp…promised to another.

a/n: if you'd like to read more about soft reader x Eris, you can find the masterlist for it here (:

#eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris acotar #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vandaddy #eris imagine #eris fluff #eris angst #acotar x reader #acotar imagine

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cranberryjuice-posts · 5 months

Text

No good thing last’s and you’re the best..

Parings - Abby Anderson X Fem! Veterinarian reader

Tw- the slur dyke is used (I’m a lesbian I can say it) , uhh some angst idk

Synopsis - Abby loves you.. but she’s to scared of her what people will think of her

Abby laid with you in the small single sized mattress. The snow was softly covering the ground outside, the curtains were pulled over the large window inside her tiny apartment so you had the most privacy that she could offer.

“Uh huh.. so issacs top scar killer just so happened to forget to turn her dog in today right” you playfully chastised Abby for keeping Alice after hours. Her blonde hair was locked around your fingers with your faces close.

“Just because I have that dumb title doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to forget shit” she joked back and lightly kissed you, She squeezed your hip as she did. You moaned as Abby added tongue and giggled knowing where this was going— however your sensual moment was abruptly ended when Abby pushed you off of her and quickly got out of the bed when the front door of the apartment opened, stepping inside Owen, mel, Nora, and manny.

“Speaking of the devil” mel smiled. “Hey Abby”

Abby nodded and looked back at you for a moment. You stood up and fixed your shirt trying to make the scene look like you two were just hanging out.

The group started talking and began setting up to have a movie night together. Manny had found a three pack of the first scream movies on his patrol out. You rolled your eyes as manny started to share theory’s about what the movie would be like with Owen while Alice was snuggling up to Mel and Nora going through everything for the night.

“Shit..” Norah sighed. “I forgot lettuce and tomatoes for the burgers back at the cafeteria” she shook her head. Abby’s face seemed to brighten.

“Get started on the movie yeah, me and y/n will go grab it” she offered. Norah tried to say it was fine but Abby insisted. “Common we’ll be right back” she chuckled and walked out the door with you following behind.

——

The two of you walked in silence for a moment, neither wanting to talk about what the other was thinking.

Abby looked over. “I love you”

“Great” You spoke in a flat unamused Tone.

“Common babe please don’t do this” she grabbed your arm and pulled you aside into a lesser known hallway. You scruntched your nose and pulled away but ultimately failed as Abby was stronger. “I love you y/n I’m serious”

“No Abby.. you love covering your ass” you pulled your arm free and stepped back giving each-other space.. space Abby hated.

“Y/n—“

“I love you to Abby but it fucking hurts that your so ashamed to be gay.. you tell me how you can’t stand to be away from me and if you could you would give me the world but the second someone else is around your to fucking scared to say I’m anything but a friend.. if you want a friend just say that, I don’t have sex with friends” you turned and started to walk down the stairs.. once you two grabbed the extra condiments and returned back to the room you could tell your words had actually hurten Abby.

You knew how she was.. yeah being gay wasn’t really a problem I mean you were in the apocalypse for crying out loud but, you knew if people found out about Abby being a lesbian most would judge her and her reputation would slightly be tarnished.. you looked over from your spot on the floor not really caring about the girl being killed with the garage door on screen.. you could tell there was a haze in her eyes, they only did that when she was deep into thought.

Soon the group was passed out onto the floor mostly drunk tired and high.. you however were still up. And so was Abby.

You moved over and sat by Her. “I didn’t mean it..”

No response.

“Abby” your voice broke but she just grabbed your hand and looked you in the eyes.

“You.. have no idea how much I want to show you off.. I mean shit my girlfriend is the top vet in this place and she’s so insanely smart, patient because you put up with not only mine but manny and owens bullshit but your also soft and kind” she grabbed your face and leaned into you. “I swear you know my body better than me.. no matter what you do you always make me feel more pleasure than I deserve”

Abby kissed you finally still speaking compliments against your lips. “And don’t get me started on your body.. fuck I have to retrain myself when you wear shit like this” she added as she stuck her hands under your top, Abby rested her hands on your waist and looked you in the eyes.. “I don’t deserve you”

You shook your head. “Abs.. all I want is to love you out in the open and not be thrown off you when someone walks in on us Making out” you chuckled hiding the hurt.

“I promise” she rested her forehead against yours. “I promise you I will give you the love you deserve” she squeezed your waist and kissed your temple. “It’s late and, I’d hate for you to get cold” she joked and pulled you ontop of her kissing you once again before laying back.

A couple days passed..

You were mentally complaining as you moved the heavy bags of dog food around. You carried the sack but before you knew it you lost your balance and fell… but you never hit the ground.

Standing behind you holding you with a sly smile was your favorite blonde. “Careful.. I’d hate for my favorite woman to get hurt” Abby joked and helped you stand up and grabbed the bag with easy.. you were slightly drooling over how Abby looked with her thick jacket and beanie on.

However you snapped out of it and shut the shed after Abby set the food down.. Abby looked around to make sure no one was looking before softly grabbing your waist and pulling you close to her. “You know” she spoke with that same dumb sarcastic smile that you couldn’t help but love. “Manny is gonna be out late tonight, he’s got some chick he’s gonna meet at one of his sex caves in another QZ.. so I was thinking maybe you would i don’t know maybe Wanna have a sleepover”

“We’re not 5 you can ask to hookup”

“Yeah but I wanna be a gentlewoman” she chuckled and kissed you softly.. in the corner of you eye you saw Mona, some girl in the WLF who always seemed to have a grudge out on you. You thought nothing of it, but that soon turned and bit you in the ass.

About a week later a small announcement had been made a out a winter dance. It was rare for Issac to allow you all to have a group party but no one complained when he did.

You showed up wearing something simple, just a pair of flared jeans a tanktop that showed off your figure and a nice flannel.. you could feel Abby’s eyes on you but you knew deep down she wouldn’t try to show you Any affection.. not with the crowd around.

—

By this point you were drunk and dancing with manny. “So you an abby? is there something” he questioned while spinning you but you just rolled your eyes.

“As if Abby” You paused showing some hesitation. “Abby isn’t gay she’s not into women”

“Uh huh”

“I’m serious” you chuckled and lightly hit him.

Manny laughed and shook his head. “All I’m saying is that abby looks at you like she wants to rip your clothes off.”

Before you could respond you heart a loud screeching noise, thanks to Mona grabbing the microphone from the man who was singing with a guitar.

Everyone looked over confused with some mumbling coming from a few people.

“Hello everyone” Mona spoke in a salty tone. You rolled your eyes and leaned onto manny. “As you all know Issac so graciously allowed us to have a party but what’s a party without some drama yeah” she led the crowd on and got some cheers.

“Abigail Anderson” she chided and your stomach dropped. You knew exactly where this was going. “Our favorite solider has been fucking around with Y/n the best veterinarian we have to offer” she chuckled sarcastically, everyone looked over and you could feel the harsh stares.. you knew no one would care but some of the older men and women seemed to really really disapprove.

Abby chuckled and gave a sarcastic response. “What?”

“You heard me Abby is a dyke” Mona continued. “Y/n’s her girlfriend”

You looked back at abby.. praying.. hoping she would tell them all the truth but you knew she wouldn’t. Abby just shook her head and laughed. “As if. Y/n’s great n all but I’m not gay trust me, we just happen to be good friends that’s all”

Some people scoffed and told mona to get off the stage. Abby looked over and started to walk towards you. You let go of manny however and walked out the cafeteria avoiding Abby all together.

——

An hour passed. You sat in your apartment crying when you heard a rhymthic nock one you knew was Abby. At first you didn’t want to open the door.

“Y/n let me in please..”

That’s all it took for your to cave. You opened the door and saw Abby standing out front holding a few flowers she must of stolen from the garden. “Hey pretty girl” she smiled softly and leaned forward but was pushed away by you.

You tried to shut the door but she caught it and slid in.

“We’re done” You finally spoke.

“What..” Abby’s smile fell and she set the flowers down. “Babe—“

“Get out abby.. your not gay remember” you spoke bitterly. Abby sighed and gently grabbed your hips but you pushed her away.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that” she frowned and soon realized how serious this was. “I love you y/n you know th-“

“Stop with this bullshit Abby!” You yelled with tears in your eyes. “Who gives a shit that we’re together! You always do this” your face now filled with hot tears you put a finger on Abby’s chest. “You always say you love me but never once do you actually try to prove it outside of the bedroom.. I said it once I’ll say it again. Get out” you as calmly as you could demanded.

“Y/n—“

“I don’t have sex with friends” that was the final thing you spoke to her before she walked out. You apartment never felt so empty and cold.. but if you’ve gotten use to the infected you knew you could get use to anything.

PART 2 is up!! 😋

Pt 2

#Spotify #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby tlou #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #lesbian #angst

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