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glittervame · 29 days ago

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Rest now love

Summary: Y/n went away on a week-long trip with her family to Italy and when she came back they decide to have a movie night at his house

Sub!Spencer white (Spider) x FEM!Reader

Just a small blurb

Warning: Smut +18 MDI, Fluff, Hand job

Y/n couldn't help but smile as she navigated the bustling airport terminal. Despite the fatigue tugging at her eyes, she felt an undeniable spark of excitement. Each step brought her closer to Spencer, whose warm embrace and familiar laugh she had missed so much. The week in Italy had been a whirlwind of pasta dishes, breathtaking vistas, and unforgettable memories with her family. Yet, amidst all the beauty and joy, her thoughts frequently drifted back to him, the one constant in her heart.

She scanned the crowd, her eyes eagerly searching for the tall figure with the messy hair and captivating smile that had become her home. The moment she spotted him, her heart skipped a beat.

There he was, Spencer, standing tall and confident against the backdrop of the arrivals board, his messy blond hair seemingly more disheveled than ever, but in a way that only made him more endearing. The sight of him sent a jolt of excitement through her weary body, and she quickened her pace. As she approached, his ocean blue eyes lit up with joy, and his smile grew into that charming, slightly mischievous grin that had first captured her heart.

"Welcome back, my love," Spencer greeted her, extending a hand holding a bouquet of vibrant flowers that matched the color of the Italian countryside she had just left behind, the bouquet was a mix of roses, lavenders, and sunflowers.

Their embrace was tight and filled with the warmth of longing. The scent of his cologne, mixed with the faint aroma of the flowers, was comforting. She felt his strong arms around her, the reassuring beat of his heart, and the gentle brush of his cheek against hers. The jet lag and travel fatigue disappeared, replaced by a rush of love and happiness.

"Missed you so much," he whispered into her ear, his breath tickling her neck.

Her cheeks flushed pink as she pulled back slightly to look into his eyes. "I missed you too. Did you get lonely without me?"

Spencer's smile grew playful. "Lonely, no. But there's definitely something missing in my life without you here to annoy me every day."

She giggled and playfully hit his arm. "You love it when I annoy you."

He feigned injury, clutching his heart dramatically. "You know me so well."

They collected her luggage, and Spencer took the lead, navigating the airport with ease. As they made their way to the parking lot, Y/n felt the weight of her suitcase fade away as she slipped her hand into Spencer's. His grip was firm and steady, grounding her in the present moment.

Once they were in the car, Spencer turned to her with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "So, what's this surprise you have planned for tonight?"

Her smile grew sly. "Oh, you'll see. But let's just say it involves your favorite movies and snacks."

His smile grew wider. "Sounds like the perfect night."

As they drove back to Spencer's house, they chatted about her adventures in Italy. Y/n couldn't help but notice the way Spencer's eyes lit up with every story she told. It made her feel seen and appreciated, and she couldn't wait to be alone with him.

When they finally made it to his place, they both set up the living room with blankets and pillows, creating a cozy fortress in front of the TV. They picked a rom-com they had both been wanting to watch and settled in, their bodies close enough to feel the warmth radiating between them.

Y/n's eyes grew wide with excitement as the opening credits rolled, her voice filled with warmth as she recounted the vivid memories of their adventure. Spencer leaned in closer, his gaze fixed on her as he absorbed every word she said. The soft light from the television danced across her features, illuminating the smile that never seemed to leave her face when she talked about cherished moments.

Spencer's hand rested on her thigh, the warmth of his touch seeping through her skin, a gentle reminder of his presence beside her. As they watched, the characters on screen mirrored their own feelings, and the tension in the air grew as thick as the plot unfolding in the background.

Spencer leaned closer, his breath a gentle caress against her cheek. The moment felt suspended in time, charged with anticipation. Y/n felt her heart thumping in her chest, the rhythm echoing in her ears. She turned to look at him, her gaze dropping to his lips, and in that fraction of a second, it was like they both stopped breathing.

With grace, Spencer leaned in, capturing her mouth with a soft, tender kiss. His lips moved against hers in a silent promise of more to come, a promise that sent a shiver down her spine. The kiss grew in depth, the gentle pressure increasing as their tongues met, exploring the familiar yet always thrilling dance of a newfound intimacy.

Y/n's hand found its way to the back of Spencer's neck, her fingers threading through his hair as she pulled him closer. His hand slid up her shirt, the warmth of his skin setting hers alight. His thumb traced the sensitive line of her lower back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. The fabric of her shirt was the only barrier to the heat of his touch, and she longed for more.

Their kiss grew more urgent, a silent confession of the desire that had been simmering beneath the surface. The world around them faded away, and all that mattered was the feeling of his hands on her, the taste of him on her lips. Spencer's thumb continued to explore, moving in slow, soothing circles that sent waves of pleasure rippling through her body.

Her fingertips dance delicately across his chest, tracing the firm contours of his muscles beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. They glide downward, each movement deliberate and filled with anticipation, until they reach the waistband of his well-worn jeans. Each loop of the belt is carefully unbuckled, one by one, with a soft click that echoes in the quiet room. The belt loosens, and she gently pulls it out from the loops, the leather sliding through the metal with ease.

The zipper whispers open as she tugs it down with her eyes never leaving his, allowing the jeans to gape open slightly, revealing the tantalizing hint of what lies beneath the waistband of his boxers. The denim fabric is pushed aside, and she runs her fingers along the elastic of his boxers, her touch feather-light and electrifying.

Spencer's breath hitches as she traces the waistband, feeling the heat emanating from his body. The tension in the room thickens as she hooks her thumbs into the fabric and begins to pull down, inch by tantalizing inch, revealing the taut muscles of his hips and the trail of hair leading to the center of his desire.

Spencer, with his cheeks slightly flushed and his eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and need, looks at Y/n with an unspoken plea for connection. Y/n's gaze softens as she gently take in the vulnerable yet eager expression on Spencer's face, feeling a warm rush of affection for her. They give a small, reassuring smile before leaning closer, allowing her warm breath to ghost over Spencer's skin.

Spencer's breath hitches as Y/n's hand begins to explore him, tracing the outline of his erection through the fabric of his boxers with a feather-light touch. His eyes flutter shut, his head tilting back slightly as he surrenders to the sensation, his body responding almost instinctively to the gentle movements.

With a soft murmur of consent, Spencer lifts his hips slightly, silently urging Y/n to remove the barrier between their skin. Y/n complies, hooking her fingers into the waistband of Spencer's underwear and sliding it down his legs, revealing his hardened length. The sight of Spencer's arousal brings a spark of desire to her own gaze, and she can't resist running her thumb along the velvety underside of his shaft, watching as he shudders in response.

The first touch of skin against skin sends a jolt of electricity through him. Y/n's hand wraps firmly around Spencer, her thumb caressing the sensitive area just beneath the head as she begins to stroke him with a measured rhythm. Spencer's hips rock in silent invitation, his hands curling into the blanket as he tries to hold back a moan.

Y/n leans in closer, her lips brushing against Spencer's ear as she whispers sweet nothings, praising him for his beauty and responsiveness. Spencer's breathing becomes more ragged as Y/n's other hand finds its way to his chest, tracing circles around his nipples before giving them a playful pinch. The sensation sends a bolt of pleasure directly to his groin, making him buck into Y/n's grip.

Y/n adjusts her rhythm, speeding up slightly as they feel Spencer's body tightening with each stroke. She watches the play of emotions across Spencer's face, the way his brows furrow in concentration and his lips part in silent gasps. The sight is incredibly arousing, and Y/n can feel her own body responding to it her thighs moist with slick.

Spencer's hips are moving more erratically now, his need for release growing with each passing second. He bites his bottom lip, his eyes screwed shut, lost in the sensations Y/n is creating within him. The warmth of her hand is almost too much to bear, and he knows he's close.

"Y/n…" Spencer breathes out, his voice strained. "I'm… I'm going to…"

Y/n nods, her eyes meeting Spencer's for a brief moment before she leans in and presses a soft kiss to his forehead. "I've got you, Spencer," she murmurs, her voice soothing and steady.

With those words, Spencer allows himself to let go, his body tensing as he reaches climax. Y/n's hand continues to move, milking every drop of pleasure from him until he's left panting and spent. She gives his shaft one final squeeze before letting go, and Spencer's legs fall open, his body relaxing onto the floor.

Y/n takes two cum coated fingers and taps them against his lips, "Open up" she whispers, and Spencer does so obediently, swirling his tongue around the taste of himself, sharing in the intimacy of the moment and. The act sends a final shiver of pleasure through him, beads of cum leaking from his tip.

For a moment, there's only the sound of their mingled breaths filling the air. Then, with a contented sigh, Spencer looks up at Y/n, his eyes shining with gratitude. Y/n smiles warmly, reaching out to wipe a bead of sweat from Spencer's brow. "You're welcome," she replies, her voice equally soft. "Now rest, love."

Links for the different position(s): Reference 1

#y/n #spencer white #spencer #spider hbh #hbh #heartbreak #heartbreak high x oc #heartbreak high #mattheo riddle smut #smut #x reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #hand job #mattheo #1cky thoughts #Sub!Spencer white #sub!spencer

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glittervame · 29 days ago

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glittervame · 1 month ago

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I created a community for Mattheo!

link: HERE

#y/n #mattheo #matty #mattheo smut #mattheo fluff #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #theo nott smut #theodore nott smut

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glittervame · 1 month ago

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You can't convince me that Mattheo isn't a tits 'n ass guy and Theo isn't a D1 pussy muncher

#theodore nott smut #theodore nott x reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle

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glittervame · 1 month ago

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Jaw dropped. Flabbergasted. Turned on. In love 🖤

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

fuckfest. the slytherins — groupsome / drunk sex.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: malfoy manor is a great place for drinks, laughs, and…. orgys?

warnings: 18+ MDNI, SMUTTTTTT, porn with negative 100 plot, literally just sex and mentions of alcohol, group of uni students that love to consensually gangbang when they have the chance (sorry i’m cackling at that), pansy and reader kiss a few times, multiple orgasms from some of the boys, anal sex, fingering, oral.

Habits are simple, predictable things, slipping into your life without much thought. Some are reckless, some harmless. And some, well—some come with the taste of someone else's lips.

You're not sure when kissing Pansy Parkinson became one of them. What started as a drunken dare, a little more fun than you'd planned for, has now undoubtedly turned into something else—something almost close to ritual. With every night that stretches long, every round of drinks that comes too fast, it's inevitable that your lips will find hers at one point or another, like clockwork.

And a habit is just a habit, but this one—this one you never feel like breaking.

"You ever try body shots with tequila?" Pansy whispers, breath warm against your lips as her smirk hooks you, the same way it always does.

"Plenty of times." You grin back, your mouth barely brushing hers. "What, you want me to lay back for you, Parkinson? Shirt pulled down—or off?"

Theo whistles, and Pansy giggles. They've seen this before, watched it unfold in countless variations, yet it's still equally as entertaining every single time.

"Pull it down, take it off, whatever gets me there faster." She's already moving, grabbing lime and salt with hands that are too steady for how much you've all been drinking. "You know I won't complain either way."

You pour her a shot, liquid gold catching the dim light in the room. You feel the weight of every inebriated gaze on you—Draco, Blaise, Enzo, Mattheo, Theo—all of them watching, same way they always do when you and Pansy put on a show.

You blink and she’s back in front of you, lime and salt in hand. You feel bold, drunk on the moment as you hook your fingers under the hem of your shirt, leaning into her kiss only to break it as you pull the fabric over your head. The boys shift around you—more whistles—and Pansy's hands find your face, greedy and gentle all at once, barely giving you a moment to toss the shirt aside before she nudges you onto your back.

"You're so fucking hot," she purrs, slinking between you and the boys who are seated around the table, grinning. "Tilt your head, that's it—here—"

She nestles the cool shot glass between your tits while sprinkling the salt on your neck—then, the lime slice is between your teeth before you can even register it, and now you're staring straight at Blaise—his dark eyes roving over you like a feast, lips parted just enough that you can imagine the feel of them pressed against your own.

Your thighs tense, heat pooling low in your stomach.

"The boys wanted a show," Pansy whispers as she pulls off her own shirt. "They'll get one."

You hum in agreement and she works like she's done this a hundred times— shot glass disappearing between her lips, tossing the tequila back before she sets it aside— warm tongue dragging along the line of salt on your skin, moving up to suck juice from the lime between your lips. She meets your eyes for what feels like a split second before the lime is yanked free and her mouth is on yours, lips tasting like tequila and salt and something wild—

You close your eyes against the flood of sensation—the alcohol, the heat, the spinning of the room—and kiss her back with equal fervour. Her lips crush yours, sloppy and wild, a thousand impulses spinning through your mind and inevitably, you're too weak to fight them, tugging her closer as a result.

Pansy huffs, fingers curling into your hair as she crawls on top of you—straddling your hips on top of the table as one hand slips down to your chest. The boys are muttering things that you can't hear as the kiss is frantic now, teeth grazing, tongues tangled, the taste of lime and tequila lingering in each exhale.

"Gods, Pansy," you gasp into her mouth, hands sliding down her waist, digging into the fabric of her skirt. "You're insatiable."

She pulls back just enough to smirk, breathless, her dark eyes glinting. "I could say the same about you, babe."

You feel the tension in her greedy fingers as they curl against your scalp, her weight pressing you down into the table, and suddenly—all the teasing, all the playing at flirting feels too far away—you need her closer, need to take control back, need to feel her beneath you instead of towering over you—

"Pans—" your hands find her hips, gripping tight as you push against her, trying to flip her onto her back—but in your haste, you misjudge the edge of the table and before you can stop her she's tumbling forward, off the side, straight into Draco's lap. "Oh—shit—"

Everyone gasps, the room pausing for a moment and you're vaguely aware of Blaise's hands clutching your waist, pulling you steady into his lap as you teeter off the table too, the tequila making your head spin. Pansy is sprawled over Draco on the floor, skirt hitched high enough to give the rest of you a perfect view of her ass—to which everyone in the room is admiring. Shamelessly.

It's a spectacle—and the boys have always loved a fucking spectacle.

"Merlin's sake—" Draco grunts as Pansy slumps over him, straddling his waist. You catch the way his hands grip her thighs, fingers flexing like they don't quite know what to do with themselves. "Always the bloody dramatics with you two.”

"I'm not even sorry." Pansy grins, unrepentant as ever as she leans into Draco's neck, teasing like nothing's even happened, like she's perfectly content to remain there, straddling his lap. "You make a good seat."

Draco scoffs, and Theo snickers from across the table.

"You're a menace." The words from Draco's lips sound a lot like praise, and something about the way his eyes flutter shut when Pansy's tongue finds the sensitive skin at his throat makes your mouth go dry. "You're alright, though?"

"Fine," she murmurs, though her tone suggests she's thinking of anything but her well-being. "Totally fine." Her fingers brush over his chest, tracing the buttons of his shirt. "Are...are you fine?"

"I'm—" his voice catches when her fingers undo the first button. "I'm fine."

"You are," she agrees, voice a little hoarse, as she undoes the second, then the third. "Very, very fine."

Draco's face flushes, and there's a sheepish edge to his smile as his hands—almost without thought—begin to slide higher, fingers trailing under the hem of her skirt, pulling it just a little further up her hips. Her eyes flutter closed for just a second as he settles over the curve of her ass, and there's a spark, a shiver of something between them—

Your gaze flicks to Blaise, feeling his presence at your back—solid, grounding, the warmth of his chest pressed against you as you lean into him. You don't have to see him to know he's watching, though you find the confirmation anyways, his dark eyes tracing every movement, every shift between the two heated Slytherins on the floor.

When you glance back, you see the boys are all watching, too—Theo, Enzo, Mattheo—all glued to the sight, silent in their anticipation.

Pansy grinds down, and Draco's head tips back, eyes closed, hands clinging to her hips, her ass, anywhere he can find—

"They don't waste any time, do they?" Blaise murmurs, words a tickle at your pulse, the sound of his voice pulling you back into your own body, your own skin.

You shiver as his fingers trail lightly up your ribs, teasing the edge of your black lace bra—you tilt your head and you catch Theo's gaze sliding over you, flicking back and forth between Pansy's legs and the way Blaise's hands have begun their slow exploration along your sides. You grin as you meet Enzo's eyes next, his lip pulled between his teeth, fingers tracing the rim of his cup—

"You could take notes, Zabini," you murmur, the words catching in your throat as his lips graze your shoulder—so close, too close.

"Me? Take notes?" He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the spot just below your ear. "I've already got it down to a science, baby.”

"Yeah?" You hum, lost in the feel of his mouth on your skin, the way his fingers are edging dangerously close to your breasts. You can feel Mattheo's gaze, burning into you from across the table, but you don't dare look, you'd crack if you did. "You sure about that?"

"Quiz me if you'd like." As if to prove his point, he pushes past the fabric of your bra, long fingers finding a nipple, and your hips twitch of their own accord, a gasp leaving your lips. "I'll pass any test you give me."

"Cocky." There's a slight edge to your voice as you roll your hips, meeting his heat with your own—just to distract him, of course. "You're gonna' make the others jealous."

"They'll have their fun," his finger toys with the clasp of your bra, now. You feel him undo it. "I want you first."

"Oh," you gasp at the sensation of cool air against bare skin as he yanks it off your arms, exposing your tits to everyone at the table. "Cocky and greedy."

"You'd expect nothing less, baby." He practically growls.

You choke on a moan. "Blaise-"

"That's my name," he's groping, his fingers pinching your nipples just hard enough to make you squeak. "I know you're real familiar with it."

Pansy's moans, soft and breathy, fill the space as Draco works her out of her skirt, mouth moving between her thighs. You clench—seeing them—her fingers in his hair, her gasps growing louder and more frantic—your pulse quickens—

"Jealous?" Blaise's taunts, having caught you staring.

You shake your head, but—Merlin, how could you not be? You'd give just about anything to relieve the heat between your thighs. To feel the heat of all the eyes watching you right now against your skin. Mattheo, Theo, Enzo—

"Not jealous." Even you can hear how breathless you sound. "Just impatient."

"Patience is a virtue," Blaise says, all mock-virtuousness, squeezing your tits again, as if to punish you for being impatient. "One I'm happy to reward—"

Mattheo is the first to snap, shoving the half-empty bottle of alcohol aside and standing up, chair scraping across the floor. Theo considers doing the same, you can tell, eyes still glued to your half-naked body as he drains his cup in one gulp. Your eyes flick to Enzo, who's merely staring, his lip still being bitten to death between his teeth.

Merlin help you.

Mattheo strolls around the table—eyes roaming as he moves, stopping just behind where you sit on Blaise's lap, breath warm on the back of your neck as he murmurs in your ear—

"I've been patient." You think it's to Blaise. "Where's my reward."

Blaise snorts, and then Theo stands up.

"We've been patient." He's looking at Blaise, lips just starting to grin. "Real, real patient."

Enzo laughs as he rises, too—all three of them forming a loose semi-circle around you and Blaise. You can almost taste the testosterone—hot and eager and hungry—as their eyes rake over you.

Blaise tugs you closer, his hands sliding down to your hips. "I'm feeling outnumbered."

"You're outnumbered," Theo agrees, smirk growing as his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you off Blaise's lap and to your feet. "You're also outvoted. You think we're going to just sit around and watch?"

"Not a chance in hell," Mattheo growls as he moves behind you, calloused hand running up your thigh.

Blaise grunts from where he's still seated, watching you with molten eyes, "you lot are animals, you know that?"

You almost laugh at that, considering he had your bra off in minutes.

"We're just—eager." Theo whispers, leaning in just enough to breathe against your neck, kissing a path up your jaw while Mattheo's hands work at undoing your skirt. You're so turned on you're not sure how you're not dripping down your thighs. "I wanted to be inside you three fucking hours ago."

You whimper at his words, the thick air of the room suddenly too much as Mattheo's hands push your skirt down your legs.

"Three hours is generous." Enzo's moving now, but he isn't looking at you—his eyes are locked on Pansy as Draco slams into her—the two of them locked in a trance. "My head's been filled with filth since this afternoon."

"Filth?" Blaise cocks an eyebrow. "Is that what you're calling it now?"

"Filth," Mattheo husks, and his hand comes up to wrap around your throat—lips pressed to your ear. "All I've been able to think about for the past week."

Your hips twitch at the pressure against your throat—and you moan louder than Pansy. "Gods—if one of you doesn't fuck me in the next minute—"

"Told you," Blaise chuckles, watching Mattheo's hand around your throat like a hawk. "Animal."

"Then what?" Mattheo ignores him—fingers pressing against your pulse just a little harder as he pulls you flush against him, teeth finding your ear, and you feel Theo's fingers trail down your front, teasing your slit. "What're you gonna do?"

"Fuck," you mutter, breathless, hips jerking toward the touch. "I'll die—"

"Oh, that's not good." Enzo's looking now, circling around to stand on your free side, his gaze traveling from your face, down your body, to where Theo's fingers are centimetres from pushing into your soaked cunt. "Is it our responsibility to prevent that?"

"Probably. It's only the right thing to do." Mattheo's cooes against your neck. "Can't have you dying on us, now can we?"

"Mm. Not the only," Theo murmurs, pressing his lips to yours as he pushes a finger inside you. "I can think of a dozen things to do right now."

"A dozen?" Blaise scoffs. You're starting to hate the sound of his teasing fucking tone. "Only a dozen?"

You can't even reply—any words you possess are swallowed by another moan as a second, then a third, of Theo's fingers push deep into you. Even his fingers are long, you think. You forgot just how big—

"Merlin, Theo—fuck—"

"That's the idea," he grins against your lips—you moan again when his fingers curl deep.

"You like that?" Mattheos hands are all over you—your tits, your ass, the press of his chest against your bare back—and you think that you need to see his face, need to see his eyes. "You need more?"

"Yes." You're not sure if you're speaking to Mattheo, or Theo, or Enzo or Blaise, or all of them. "Yes, please—please—"

"Oh good," Blaise muses. "She's polite."

"Of course she is," Theo groans as your cunt clenches around his digits—your slick sounds filling the space between you, mingling with the sound of skin smacking from a few feet away. "So good for us."

"Mm," Mattheo adds, teeth scraping over your shoulder, squeezing your ass to make you gasp. "Very."

"A real angel," Enzo purrs, still circling like a fucking shark, eyes flitting over to Pansy and Draco again as her moans grow louder, more insistent. "Especially when she's begging."

It's all too much—Theo's fingers pumping deep, his thumb swirling your clit, the sounds of Draco and Pansy and the feel of hands and lips and intoxicated eyes everywhere—

Your head falls back against Mattheo’s shoulder. "Oh, please—fuck—please—"

"What're you begging for, Bellissima?" Theo murmurs, drawing your eyes back to his. "Wanna use your words?"

You gasp as his fingers move faster, deeper, as if he's trying to pull the words out of your throat. "Need—"

Blaise snickers. "Yes?"

"Need to cum—" you cry out, hysterical as Mattheo pinches your nipples, groans against your neck. "Need to be—fucked—"

"And I'm the greedy one." That's Blaise again, insufferable as ever.

"We like greedy," Theo grins against your mouth, fingers crooking, and your knees buckle. "Right, boys?"

"We do," Mattheo growls.

"We like it a lot," Enzo agrees, his eyes finally meeting yours. "We love it."

"Then what're you waiting for," you gasp, unable to take much more of the heat building, twisting, every point of contact sending a new wave of need through your body. "Give it to me—"

"Give you what?" It's Blaise again—God, he's driving you fucking insane tonight. "You gotta be more specific, babygirl."

"Give—ohh—" your orgasm is right there. Right. Fucking. There. "Give me your fucking dick, Zabini—fuck—you called first—"

"Oh I did, didn't I?" Blaise still hasn't moved from his seat, but you can see the way his trousers are straining. "Guess it's my lucky day."

Theo lets loose a groan, and you can feel his hips jerking in rhythm with his fingers. "Thank Merlin for small favours."

"Lucky for all of us, really." The corner of Blaise's mouth twitches, almost with the suggestion of a smile. "Don't you think, Enzo?"

Before you can even comprehend Enzo's response, Theo curls his fingers just right, thumb rubbing your clit just right, Mattheo groping your chest and kissing your neck just fucking right—and then you're there—climax charging you, release spilling all over Theo's fingers—

"Oh, fuck—yesyesyes—"

You cry out and shudder forward, only being held up by Theo and Mattheos hands, and you're barely back on earth before you feel Blaise's fingers under your thighs—urging you back and laying you out across the table as if you're a fucking feast for him—

"Patience," Blaise grins down at you, hands finding your thighs, squeezing hard enough to drag you back to reality and realize he's got his trousers undone. "Is really such a virtue."

"Right," you mumble, still breathless as you look up at him. "Too bad I'm fresh out."

Blaise chuckles at that. "I can tell."

Fuck this—

"Blaise—if you don't fuck me right now—" you push up from the table, urging him back into the chair he was sitting in. "I will let everyone else fuck me first and make goddamn sure you watch."

There's a flicker of surprise in Blaise's eyes as he slumps back in the chair—Mattheo snorts behind you and for a second you wonder if you may have just gone too far—

"Not a chance," he smiles, his words coming out in a growl that's all heat and lust and something just a little dangerous. "We'll have none of that."

And then, he's on his feet again. But this time, when he touches you, it’s firm and fast and not at all gentle. He directs you around the table before bending you over it, and you hear someone—Theo, you think?—groan like they're in pain, the sound swallowed by a desperate moan that you know for certain is Pansy's.

Your eyes flutter when you hear it—you just don't know where to look—

"No, look up. Up." Blaise's hand is in your hair, forcing you to look up from the table, and you realize where the sound came from. "I want you to watch."

Your head's spinning in a way you're sure is not entirely from the alcohol, and it only intensifies when your eyes focus on the scene just across the room—Draco and Pansy sprawled on the couch, now, Pansy riding him while stroking Enzo's insistent dick, his glossed eyes glued to yours, watching, just watching—

Blaise's hand is still in your hair. "That's it. Watch."

Enzo smiles at you, cheeky and fucking taunting before Pansy tightens her grip while jerking him off and his head tips back—

"Gonna' be good for me," Blaise murmurs against your back—his tip pressing against your dripping entrance. "Gonna' take it all for me?"

"Yes," you gasp, catching a glimpse of Mattheo and Theo just off to the side of you, sharing a smoke. "Fuck yes—"

"That's it, baby. Just relax," he cooes, and then he's pushing into you. "Relax and enjoy it—"

There's a sting as he stretches you, and keeps stretching you until he's bottoming out far fucking deeper than you'd remembered—there's a moan from you that gets tangled between your teeth, a gasp from infront you, a moan from someone else, and—gods, if Blaise doesn't start moving—

"Blaise—oh, fuck—"

Blaise gives a low moan as your walls flutter around him, a swear under his breath that's punctuated with a hard squeeze of your hip. "Good—god—Merlin—"

He pulls out just enough to make you cry out, shameless—and it melds with Pansy's from across the room.

"Shh," Mattheo steps infront of you, blocking your view of Pansy and Draco and Enzo. "Let Blaise feel you—"

—and suddenly, Mattheo's hand is on your jaw, forcing your head back, coaxing your eyes to his. His other hand disappears, down past his belt, and you moan again—wet walls squeezing Blaise as he slowly starts to rock into you.

"I wanna' fuck your throat," Mattheo murmurs, so close you can feel his breath on your lips. "Badly."

"So needy," your words are a breathless moan, but Mattheo doesn't seem to mind—he just grins as he unbuttons his trousers. "Can't even watch for five minutes without—"

"I know, I can't," he interrupts, and his hand's back at your jaw, gripping hard. "You've got me too fucking hard."

You're about to reply with another smartass comment, but Theo saddles up next to his fellow Slytherin and before you can blink his hand is on the back of your head, tangling in your hair, angling your lips toward Mattheo's now-exposed cock—

"Don't worry about the smart mouth," Theo leans down close to you, every intention of cutting off your reply. "We have other uses for it."

You'd probably roll your eyes at the phrase if it wasn't for Mattheo's dick pushing past your teeth and hitting the back of your throat so quick you gag— eyes squeezed shut as Blaise bottoms out, again and again.

"That's one of them." he adds with a smirk, watching you choke on his best friends dick.

You can't even think. Every thought that enters your head is immediately replaced with another moan, another sensation, another need, another—

"Draco! Fuck!" You hear Pansy cry out from the couch.

"Keep going, Pans," Enzo grunts, his voice sounding choked. "Just like that."

"She taking you good, Blaise?" The question comes out in a moan of his own—you think it's Draco—and you wonder idly who's doing what over there now. "Tight as I remember?"

“Tight and wet and—fuck—" Blaise's voice has taken on a new level of strangled, desperate, need that's almost too raw to hear it, and— "she's—good. She's good."

"That's it," Draco grunts again, like he's pleased to hear it. "She's an—oh, yes, Pansy, fuck—"

The noise from the couch is too much—you're not able to think past the fullness—the desperate, overwhelming heat that's consumed you, and that's when you feel a pair of lips at your ear—

"Does it feel good?" Theo's words are barely louder than a whisper, your gagging sounds almost drowning them out. He grabs your hand, slowly bringing it to his crotch. "Having us like this?"

Your fingers are clumsy, shaky as they wrap around him and try to push his trousers down—it's hard to see past the water in your eyes but once you do you're rewarded with a gasp and a low swear under his breath that sounds so damn good you want to hear it a million times more.

"Mmmfff." You moan around Mattheo as Blaise's fingers find your clit, coaxing you towards a high you're not sure you can handle—

"That's it," Theo whispers, moving your hand just the way he likes it. His fingers are tangled with yours while his free hand finds your hair again, shoving you closer to Mattheo. "Fuck. That's it."

Everything is spinning and whirling in the best way, the best possible way, and you know you're there, so close, but it's so hard to think, so hard to do anything—when—

"You gonna' cum for us, baby?" Another pair of lips at your ear, not Theo's voice, but Blaise's—ragged with his deep thrusts. "Gonna' cum for us good and hard?"

Your response, which most likely would have been something along the lines of: "yes" or "please" or "gods yes fucking please," is completely smothered by Mattheo—his hand at the back of your head alongside Theo's, fingers tangled in your hair, cockhead slamming the back of your throat over and over and over—

"Then do it," Blaise knows your answer anyways. His fingers rub quicker, his hips piston faster. "Now."

And it's in this moment where you lose yourself completely—the world narrows down to your body, every sensation flooding through you, and the fucking sounds—Pansy's moans, Theo's groans, Blaise's pants, Mattheo's swearing, Draco's whimpers and Enzo's fucking grunting—where you can't do a goddamn thing to stop it, not that you even wanted to. You do what Blaise told you, cumming so hard you see stars behind your eyes, and for one blissful, everlasting second—you feel nothing but pure unadulterated pleasure, until it all comes rushing back with force.

You think you hear Theo say "good girl" as your body tenses—shaking, trembling, clenching around Blaise so hard his pace falters and his hips slow and his thrusts turn erratic—and then you feel it—the result of his pent up passion as he slows to to an absolute standstill—spilling his cum deep into your cunt while he shudders against you, gasping out a curse that might have been your name.

"Oh, fuck," he groans, slowly—carefully—and you feel him pull out of you just as Mattheo moans, hands tightening in your hair, spilling his own release down your throat. "Oh, sweet Merlin."

It takes a moment for reality to filter back in, and you try to catch your breath in a way that's probably not very dignified. You're not quite sure what to do with yourself—and quite frankly, you're not given the chance to figure it out as Mattheo pulls out too and Theo slips up behind you—

"Come here, Bella," he murmurs, his lips at your ear again—he sounds like he's trying to catch his breath, too. Through the fog you remember that at one point you were jerking him off—and you feel the confirmation of his need still hard against your ass as he pulls you up against him. "There we go. Easy now."

You try to speak—you're not sure what you would even say—but your voice is as shaky as the rest of you, and all that comes out is a soft moan.

"She's—" Blaise's still trying to steady his breath as he slumps into his prior chair, trousers still half undone. "—she's on mars."

"I've a feeling we all are," Theo mutters, holding you against him. His fingers skim down your stomach, almost like he's mapping out the aftershocks. "Some more than others."

You can almost feel the way his eyes flick across the room with that—noting the way Draco's splayed out on the couch next to Pansy who's now riding Enzo and jerking a still half-hard Mattheo—

"Oh, relax," Draco scoffs, eyes shut and head tipped toward the ceiling. "I'll rejoin the land of the living in a moment."

"Sure, Draco," Mattheo huffs, and you can practically hear the roll of his eyes from here. "We'll be here when you do."

"Mm—fuck, Pansy—"

Enzo's moan cuts through their bantering and it's at that moment where Theo finally decides he's waited long enough—he grabs your wrist and pulls you away from the table, directing you to the couch where he slumps down and drags you into his lap, your thighs on either side of his—throbbing, leaking cock pressing against your cum soaked cunt.

You moan, and Pansy moans beside you.

"I think," Theo murmurs into your neck, his words as thick and as needy as his hardness, "I could get used to this."

"S'that right?" You try to keep your words cool, to be as unaffected as you'd like, but—there's no hiding the way your breath hitches, the way you move your hips just the slightest in his lap. "I can't say the same about your size."

"Take me at your own pace." He husks, a smirk you're sure is attached to the words. "I'm halfway there already from that handjob."

You'd laugh at that if you weren't still so breathless and shaky from before, so instead the laugh comes out as a needy moan as you slide forward, shifting in his lap until you feel his tip brush up against your already sensitive clit—

"Gods," you breathe out the word, bracing your hands on his shoulders. "Such a gentleman."

"Always," he replies, completely sincere just before his hands grab your hips and in one quick motion—he's guiding you down onto him. "Always for you."

You'd reply—you'd probably even say something that might be sweet, if you could, if the rest of the world didn't fade into a sort of pleasurable blankness as you sink down—down until the moan that leaves you is so unbridled that it should have been embarrassing if the whole fucking lot of you weren't so far passed embarrassment—because just the head of him is so thick and you're suddenly thankful Blaise stretched you out so deliciously because otherwise you think it'd be too much, too quick and—fuck.

You're still sensitive, and you know he can tell—

"Oh, she's tight." Theo's voice is low in your ear, his lips tracing your jawline. "Too much?"

"Never," you gasp out, offering some weak shake of your head. "Never too much."

He grins against your pulse, teeth scraping across your skin—

"Good."

He punctuates the word by sinking you down a bit more, the stretch of his shaft drawing out a moan from deep in your chest—

"And when it is?"

—he pauses, tightening his grip on your hips to pull you up slightly before sliding you back down—

"Tell me."

You're only half able to form the thought at this point—the other half of you is so preoccupied with the feeling of his hands holding you, his lips against your skin, his voice in your ear—you nod, anyway, and there's another moan from somewhere in the room—Enzo again, and it's more of a whimper than anything else.

"That’s it, Pansy, so good—"

"Feels good, Enzy?" Her response comes through gasps. "You like it like that?"

Blaise answers for them both—you catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye, slumped back in his chair with a new drink in hand. "Keep that up and he'll never leave that couch again."

"He's not the only one." Theo's words vibrate through you, and while you're not sure if it's the meaning behind them or the way they're sent deep into your neck with a hint of teeth, either way you have to swallow a moan before you can respond.

"Is that so?" You reply, doing your goddamn best to keep your voice steady as Theo's hips roll up into you again.

"It is so," he murmurs. "You think you can handle staying on this couch all summer?"

Summer. Hardly a week away. You think of the days and nights you're going to spend in this manor, in this room—in this room on this fucking couch—

His hands slip to your ass, guiding you up and down. "You think you could last another hour?"

"Mmm," you manage to get the sound out before he rolls up again, the perfect angle to hit that sensitive spot somewhere deep inside you and that's all you have to say before all other higher level thinking goes out the window. "Oh, Theo, you’re fucking deep—"

"I know," he replies, his breath harsh against your throat, his words lost between the moans you can't seem to keep from slipping out. "I know, bella, I know—"

Cocky bastard.

You lean down, pulling his head against your chest with hands in his hair and he follows. You'd think he'd try to pull back, just to say something witty with a smirk on his face—but instead he groans, his tongue flicking over your nipple and that's when you hear Mattheo grunt from somewhere beside you—

"Fuck me." His voice comes out as a gasp that he's struggling to keep from sounding strangled. Pansy's still lazily stroking him, multitasking while riding Enzo. "I'm so fucking hard again."

If you could manage a proper response, you might have said that was the idea—you'd probably have said something very clever about how you wouldn't mind letting him down your throat again.

You can still think, but the thought is a struggle, so all you manage is a breathless—

"Matt—“

"Mmm?" Hardly a hum—and for some reason it's so much more attractive than it probably should be. "Yes, princess?"

The way you shiver at the pet name is something you're going to have to examine at some point—not now, though, because if you have to put any more thought into any single thing you're going to explode.

"You—you—"

Theo interrupts before you can finish the sentence. "Fuck her, Riddle."

If Mattheo's surprise at Theo's apparent order is evident, it's masked by the moan he lets out as Pansy does something that must have felt especially good.

"I, fuck—I already fucked her throat, Nott. If you'd finish gatekeeping her—"

"She's got another hole, Riddle," Theo replies, with that self-assured tone that's too goddamn cocky to be legal and you wonder absently if he knows what it does to you as he gives a sharp, deliberate roll of his hips. "She can handle it, can't you, bella?"

You try to moan out an answer—you're sure there's a sound there—anything to let him know that yes, you not only can but that you're not sure there's anything you'd rather do—yet the words die before you can get them out as Mattheo is already moving—rough hands finding your ass, spreading your cheeks as he leans down to press a kiss to the dimples on your lower back. The sensation catches you off guard but you don't have time to think about that before you feel something wet—his saliva, you think—slick between your cheeks and then his fingers are there, rubbing and massaging against your tight hole—

And then, he's pressing a finger into you. "Oh—"

You're not even sure if your gasp is a reaction to Theo's movement or Mattheo's—all you know is that for a moment it all just combines into a whirlwind that seems to just drown all the oxygen out of your lungs completely—

"I know," Theo's breath is as laboured and rough as yours—the rumble of his words vibrating against your chest, your collarbone. "God, I know—"

"Jesus," another moan, strangled and needy, and it's not from you or Theo or even Enzo—it's from Mattheo. "Oh, this ass is tight—"

That's not something you're going to be able to get over—hearing that coming from him. "Oh fuck, Matt—"

"Mmm?" There's a smile in his voice—and you'd see it on his face if you were facing him, if all of his focus weren't so decidedly somewhere else. "You want me to fuck this perfect ass, don’t you?"

With that he pushes another finger into you while Theo wraps his arms around your waist to hold you steady to his chest. His hips cant up into you, and you swear you're on fire—Mattheo chuckles.

The sensation is so much you’re crying out again, his teasing turning infuriating. "You're a goddamn—ah—bastard—"

"Maybe so," he replies, with a smack to one of your asscheeks. "But a bastard that's going to—"

He stretches you out, pumping and scissoring slow, just as deliberate as everything else he does—and the moan you let out is enough to drown out whatever witty, dirty words you're sure he was going to follow that with—

"Fuck—fuck," the word is all you can manage as you brace your hands against Theo's shoulders, nails digging into his skin— "oh, fuck—"

Mattheo groans against your back and you swear it's intentional because he has to know what all of this is doing to you—what it's doing to Theo by association.

"Fuck, she likes that—" Theo's gasp hits you like a punch in the gut. "I should have—"

It's like there's a whole sentence, some snarky, perfectly articulate statement he had in mind, but whatever words it was comprised of are lost in the way he shivers—in the way his hips jerk more erratically due to how tight you're squeezing him—due to the way your walls spasm as Mattheos fingers keep pumping, stretching—

"Should have what?" It's a miracle you manage the words, and you're feeling particularly proud about the way it's more of a challenge than a question, even if it's half mumbled.

Whatever it is, he can't say it, and whatever retort you had for that is interrupted by the sound of a grunt—Enzo. His face is screwed up in pleasure, his breath is coming in ragged, uneven pants and there's a look in his eyes that looks distinctly broken.

Mattheo groans and pulls his fingers free. You feel the tip of his dick replacing them. "Can’t fucking wait any longer."

Enzo's eyes meet yours, then, and they're absolutely wrecked. "I'm going to—"

Pansy grins and moans out her reply. "Yeah, you are."

There's little else you can say—not that you'd have the words even if you weren't as lost as the rest of them. You just have a flash of thought about how you've never seen Enzo look like that before, open and vulnerable and completely at the mercy of whatever bliss he's riding right now, but then there's another feral moan escaping your lips—

"Oh, Gods, Mattheo!—"

Theo groans into your neck as Mattheo presses in and it takes merely two seconds before your eyes roll back—the way he sinks into your ass is a level of fullness you weren't sure you could reach, and even that's a thought that's too complex for you to process as your head drops, forehead pressed to Theo's shoulder.

There's a hiss from his lips, another muttered curse that you half catch as he bites at your collarbone, his hands moving back to squeeze your hips—

"Fuck, yes," Mattheo's voice sounds more strained than you've ever heard it. "Jesus Christ, that feels good—"

"Don't think the saviour would like you taking his name in vain," Blaise says, from somewhere in the room. "Not in this scenario at least."

No, he wouldn't, you think, but there's no way you've got the wherewithal to speak now—any focus you had is lost now that you're impaled on not one, but two cocks and it's like your entire nervous system's been turned over to the sensation of being so fucking full, so surrounded—of not being able to do anything except try to remember how to breathe.

It's not working very well.

"Mm," Theo's moans, fucking up into you nice and slow. "I think he'd understand."

"I think that's a rather blasphemous stance to take," Blaise replies. "Then again, given the scenario, perhaps that's not the most shocking revelation I've had of you all today."

"Blaise," Enzo groans, his tone somewhere between pleading and demanding. "Are you really going to try and have a conversation right now?"

"Just making an observation," Blaise says casually, and you swear that part of your brain that still functions can see the smirk plastered on his face in your mind. "Merely commenting about the depravity on display."

"Your commentary is duly noted," Mattheo breathes, his words punctuated by a low moan as he smacks your ass. "And dismissed."

There's a grumble of agreement through the room at that, including one from you, but all your words come out as a gasp—

Theo loves you like this. You can tell he's fucking savouring it. "That's it, bella. You don't need to do more than that."

Part of you wants to protest the statement, wants to argue that you have it in you to contribute more, but no matter how hard you try—and you do try—all that comes out around the moans is an inarticulate mess.

"Yeah, that's it," Mattheo groans, and you'd be embarrassed about how utterly ruined by all of this you are if you could focus on anything other than the two dicks pumping you in rhythm. "Just let me and Nott take care of your—mmf—tight fuckin' holes."

There's a whine that worms its way out of your chest and through your lips at that, and you don't know what it's begging for—just that it's begging, and all your mind cares about right now is that Theo and Mattheo understand that.

Theo's response is a moan of his own and a hand finding the back of your neck, his fingers wrapping around your hair. "So fucking wet—tight—"

"And taking us so goddamn well," Mattheo adds as one of his hands grab your ass again, spreading you open. "Fucking hell—I'm so close—"

"So are we," Theo responds for you, and the words are harsh and desperate and make your whole body shudder. "So—ah—so are we—"

The realization that he can feel how close you are makes you clench—walls fluttering around the both of them as they fuck you tempered—it’s only a few more seconds before you're seeing stars so bright you hardly register the sounds of Enzo and Pansy reaching their climaxes next to you—the feeling of Pansy crashing her lips to yours as she cums and moans into your mouth propelling you further over the edge, into your own ecstasy—

And if there were a way to describe it, you're sure you'd think of it later, but right now it's all just fire and lightning—pleasure wracking your body until you're certain you're not going to come down for hours. You can't really hear anything—just the rushing of your own blood pulsing in your ears—but as it starts to subside, your vision returns and the sound follows—your lips still pressed to Pansy's as Theo moans underneath you, spilling his release into your cunt while Mattheo is still thrusting slow—

"Oh my god," you gasp as you break the kiss, all of you breathing so hard you're sure it's going to take a while for the oxygen levels in the room to return to normal. "Oh my god, oh my god—"

"Mmm," is about all Theo seems to be capable of currently.

It’s a rare thing for him to be rendered speechless—and you'd grin at the knowledge if it weren't for Mattheo still thrusting deep in your ass—leaving Theo trapped inside your cunt, his length still twitching and throbbing within your walls.

"Still with us, princess?" Mattheo's chuckle is somewhat strangled, and the hand he's not gripping your ass with finds your hair again, tugging your head back to expose your neck. "You aren't done already, are you?"

If he expects—or even wants—an actual answer to that question, he's going to be very disappointed because all you can manage is a strangled half-moan that's a decent representation to how you're feeling right now—

"I think she's lost her words," Mattheo murmurs—and then it's like he realizes something. "Maybe we should test that."

"Wha—"

It's not a proper word, but you don't even have the chance to fully get it out before his hand in your hair is pulling your head back even further and you realize that at some point Pansy had gotten off of Enzo and he's now kneeling on the couch in front of you with his cum covered cock aimed directly at your lips—

"Clean me off."

It's another demand you'd probably be inclined to respond to with a snarky reply if you were at all confident in your ability to do anything other than open your mouth and let him press the tip to your tongue—

"Good girl," Enzo says, and the praise is delivered with that voice that sounds like it came from some dark place inside him, the one that's only ever really appeared in the privacy of these walls and with this group of people. "Taste your bestfriend on me, hm? You like that?"

It's a question you'd probably deny a few months ago, but that's not the case anymore—and you know that the answer would be obvious regardless, given how you've just proven you're more than happy to share them with her. So instead you give an answer that's a better representation of how you feel without having to admit it, and it only comes out as a hum of agreement as you taste her.

"I know you do," Enzo replies, and he's got that same smirk he usually has when he's got the upper hand, the one that usually makes you feel at least mildly put out—now it just makes you shiver. "Little slut."

Theo, who's still trapped underneath you and still half hard inside you, moans at that.

"Mmmm-" yes, you want to say, but you can't and the noise you manage instead, around the taste of your bestfriend on your tongue, comes out more like a whimper that has absolutely no business doing as much to you as it does.

Mattheo growls with a deep thrust into your ass, and the whimper turns into a whine as Pansy moves closer to you.

"You look pretty," she murmurs, her mouth pressed against your hair as Enzo pushes his dick deeper down your throat. "You look so fucking pretty right now."

There's something about that, the way her voice caresses the words, that makes something warm rush through you, wrapping around the bliss and squeezing until you're almost overwhelmed again.

Your eyes water, as you gag. "Mmgh—"

"Mhmm," her lips move down your cheek, next to your mouth where Enzo is still slowly fucking it, and it's like the action is deliberate—a way to show, without saying it outright, just how wrecked you are. "And you say I'm insatiable."

That's fair, because right now you're fairly certain you've never wanted something to continue forever quite as much as you do this, regardless of the fact that you know it's not practical.

"Ah, fuck—" Mattheo grunts with a messy thrust. “Oh, fuck—"

He's not the most loquacious person in the world but even he is having a hard time getting words out—and you're not much better, with the only sounds you're capable of making completely indecipherable even for you, let alone the rest of the room.

"Fuck—" with a final curse, he spills his release deep into your ass and Theo groans from under you as you clench as a result. "—yes."

The feeling of him twitching and spilling inside you makes you moan around Enzo, and he groans too—one hand tangled in your hair and the other tangled in Pansy's to keep her close—

"Mm, yes," Enzo moans now, jerking his hips toward your face. "Feels good—so good—“

—and close is an apt word because they're all close to you, all surrounding you—even Blaise and Draco's exhausted presence are felt in the background.

"I'm pretty sure she's gonna be sore for days after this," Pansy says, the words whispered. "I hope you all know—"

"I think she'll be thanking us for that," Theo replies before anyone else can. "In a day or two at least."

Pansy giggles, a sound that's soft and familiar and comforting even in this current state of being surrounded and overwhelmed, and her cheek brushes up against yours as the two of you peer up at Enzo—

"You're probably right." She whispers.

Enzo grunts, pulling his cock from your mouth and offering it to Pansy who greedily takes it in her own—

"Selfless generosity," Theo murmurs from directly under your chin having just witnessed that, and his tone suggests he's got his signature smirk in place. "How noble of us."

"Very selfless," Blaise says, from somewhere in the room again—and even as you're lost in pleasure you know that statement borders on sarcastic. "Absolutely nothing in it for any of you."

"Nothing at all," Theo replies, the same amount of sarcasm in his voice as Blaise's. "It's all self-sacrifice."

"Mm," Mattheo murmurs against your shoulder, before he pushes himself off you and finally pulls out. "Not even a shred of personal satisfaction."

You're still collapsed on top of Theo, as boneless as a human being can be, and a quiet whine escapes your lips at the loss before you can stop it.

"See," Theo murmurs, a hand coming up to run through your hair. "We've practically made a martyr of ourselves here. Selflessness at its finest."

"So humble," Blaise says, and you swear you hear the eyeroll that's almost certainly included. "I think this calls for medals and a parade through the streets. A holiday, maybe. Selfless Slytherin Day."

Enzo huffs—you can tell he's considering telling Blaise to shut up before he ruins his orgasm but as Pansy drags her tongue along the underside of his shaft, he seems to forget about it—

"Absolutely," Mattheo says—and if you had the strength to lift your head and look at him there'd likely be a smug smirk on his face. "I'd volunteer to be parade marshall, personally."

Enzo pulls out of Pansy's mouth with a gasp—and it's all but two seconds before he sprays sticky jets of cum all over your face and hers, his head tipping back as he does—

"I'm sure you would," Blaise says dryly, his voice coming from closer now than before. "I'm sure you would also volunteer to accept the medal, and then offer a speech about how humble you are."

"Mhm,” Mattheo sounds unbothered. You know he is. "Obviously. Someone's got to make sure the truth is told."

Pansy giggles against your face, then, before her tongue drags across your cheek, collecting some of Enzo's release. "Well, it's no good if you all are going to keep doing a poor job at the selflessness part.”

"I think we're well past the point of pretending we're doing this selflessly," Theo mutters dryly as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. "If we were capable of that level of pretending, we'd all be in Ravenclaw."

Your hands find Pansy's hair, holding her close to you as you lick Enzo's cum off her chin and jaw.

"You're welcome to switch houses if you'd like," Blaise responds dryly. "Some of us were sorted to our houses for reasons other than self-satisfaction—"

"Oh, shove it, Zabini," Enzo says as his breath comes back. "You're acting like a bloody dad."

Blaise opens his mouth, presumably to offer some kind of sharp retort, but before they have a chance, Pansy cuts in. "If you're all quite finished with the pissing contest—“

"We've been done for minutes," Theo replies quickly, hand now stroking through your hair. "Now we're just bickering for the sake of it, as usual."

"Which means we've got at least another half an hour to go," Blaise mutters—before apparently giving up all attempt at sounding cool and collected and flopping down on the nearest open section of sofa.

"At least," Mattheo agrees. "Maybe an hour, if we're lucky."

Next to you, Enzo grunts out a laugh as he starts trying to fix himself back to modesty. "Lucky is one word for it—"

"I think lucky is an excellent term for the current state of things," Theo replies, his voice all smooth and silky and perfectly at fucking ease. "In fact, I'd be hard pressed to think of anything more lucky than getting to experience this."

Everyone is in agreement, at that.

#theo nott smut #theo nott x reader

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glittervame · 1 month ago

Text

i sit down to write and suddenly i am the most distracted human alive. the chair is uncomfortable. my coffee is too hot. my playlist isn't quite the vibe. i need to research what victorian houses smelled like in 1872 for exactly 45 minutes even though my story takes place in space. and yet the moment i'm trying to fall asleep? every single sentence i've ever needed just lines up perfectly in my brain like some kind of creative parade i'll never get back.

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glittervame · 1 month ago

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What i need in a man:

FICMAS #4— SLOW DOWN! / mattheo riddle

december 15th

mattheo riddle x fem reader

summary: mattheo’s got a little crush on you, but you keep running away every time he tries talking to you!

warnings: smut, unprotected piv, fingering, creampie, spanking, mentions of blood

words: 3.9k

a/n: i’m very very sorry for pushing this back so much—i’ve been really busy, plus i just procrastinated this one a lot. next one will be posted tomorrow so i can get back on schedule. anyways, enjoy!

navigation ficmas masterlist

The corridor was unnervingly quiet, save for the occasional shuffle of parchment or the faint scrape of shoes against stone. You hugged your books tightly to your chest, trying to make yourself invisible as you hurried toward the sanctuary of the library. The cold December air seeping through the ancient castle walls bit at your skin, but it wasn’t nearly as alarming as the warmth you suddenly felt—someone approaching from behind.

“Hi.”

His voice slid into your awareness before you even heard the sound of his footsteps, sending your heart skittering like a startled bird. Turning your head slightly, you caught sight of him—dark curls falling into his eyes, his signature Slytherin tie loosened at his throat, and that grin. The grin that made your chest feel too tight and your thoughts scatter like spilled ink.

Your first instinct, as always, was to flee.

Before he could say more, you ducked your head and pivoted on your heel, muttering something about being late to the library.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” His hand was warm and firm around your wrist, stopping you mid-flight. He turned you gently to face him, his dark eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your cheeks burn. “Would you please stop running away from me? It’s worrying me, you know. The way you look like you’ve seen a ghost every time I’m around.”

You didn’t dare meet his eyes. Not yet. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the traitorous flush that gave away just how much he affected you. “I’m not running,” you mumbled, though the evidence was damning.

“Oh, come on.” He laughed, soft and incredulous. “You bolt every time I so much as look at you. Do you have any idea how hard it is to catch up with you? You’re like—like a mouse slipping through cracks.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out at first. He tilted his head, the faintest frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t bite, you know. Not unless you ask.”

His teasing tone made your stomach flip. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, dropping your gaze to the floor.

“Don’t be,” he said softly, his grip on your wrist loosening but not letting go entirely. “I just—look, you know I’m not going to hurt you, right?”

“I-I know,” you stammered, and it was true. He wasn’t threatening to you, not even close. But that didn’t make the rapid thudding of your heart any less overwhelming.

His brow furrowed slightly. “Then what is it?” His voice dropped, quieter now, as if he was trying not to spook you. “Am I too much? Too… loud? Intense? I can tone it down if that’s what you need.”

The earnestness in his voice nearly unraveled you. You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault—that it was you, and your inability to handle the way he seemed to draw everyone’s attention with effortless charm. The way he smiled like he knew every secret in the world. The way his presence made you feel like you were standing too close to the sun.

“I—” You bit your lip, scrambling for an excuse, any excuse, but your brain seemed to be short-circuiting under his gaze. “I’m just...not used to people like you.”

“People like me?” His eyebrows lifted, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a half-smile. “What does that mean?”

“You know.” You waved your free hand vaguely, avoiding his eyes again. “Confident. Charming.”

“Ah.” He let out a low chuckle, the sound warm and rich, wrapping around you like a blanket. “So, what? You’re allergic to confidence?”

“No! I just—” You huffed, flustered, and Mattheo’s grin widened.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?” he said, and your stomach flipped violently.

“I am not,” you mumbled, heat rising to your cheeks.

“You are,” he insisted, his tone teasing but gentle. “And I’m not saying that to make you run away again, by the way. I’d really prefer it if you didn’t.”

You glanced up at him then, your heart doing somersaults at the soft, hopeful look in his eyes. And for a moment, you thought maybe you could do this—stay, talk to him, let yourself believe that someone like Mattheo Riddle could actually like someone like you.

But instead, you mumbled something incoherent and, in a sudden burst of courage—or cowardice—twisted out of his grasp and darted down the hallway.

“Wait—! Oh, come on! Slow down!” His exasperated laugh echoed behind you, followed by his voice, playful but resigned. “You’re killing me, you know that?”

Oh, but you weren’t getting away that easily.

Because by some twist of fate—or Mattheo’s uncanny ability to be everywhere you didn’t want him to be—you found yourself crossing paths with him again that very afternoon. And this time, there was no escaping.

The hospital wing was quiet, the kind of quiet that wrapped itself around you like a blanket, broken only by the soft clink of glass vials as you worked. You were perched at Madame Pomfrey’s desk, carefully restocking rows of remedies, when the heavy wooden door creaked open.

You didn’t look up at first, assuming it was Madame Pomfrey returning from her rounds. But then you heard the familiar drawl.

“Madame Pomfrey, I—oh.”

Your hand froze mid-reach for a jar of bruise balm. Your stomach plummeted. You knew that voice.

You froze, your hand stilling mid-reach for a jar of essence of murtlap. Slowly, as though moving too quickly might summon some greater disaster, you turned your head toward the door.

There he was.

Mattheo Riddle, leaning casually against the doorframe, one arm tucked against his side, the other pressed lightly to his jaw where a streak of blood stood out against his pale skin. His shirt was untucked, his tie gone, and his dark curls were just messy enough to make him look infuriatingly perfect.

Your heart started to pound, the air in your lungs thinning to a whisper. “You,” you said before you could stop yourself, the word barely louder than a squeak.

Mattheo grinned, even as he winced slightly, straightening from the doorframe. “Me,” he echoed.

You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the desk as if it might keep you grounded. “What... what happened?”

“I fell,” he said simply, though the smirk on his lips made it impossible to believe him.

“You fell,” you repeated flatly, crossing your arms.

He nodded solemnly, though there was nothing solemn about the way his eyes flicked over you, taking in the rolled-up sleeves of your uniform and the faint smudge of ink on your wrist from earlier. “Tragic, I know. But lucky me—I’ve landed in the most capable hands.”

Your cheeks burned, and you immediately dropped your gaze, fussing with the nearest jar of ointment to avoid his eyes. “Madame Pomfrey isn’t here,” you mumbled. “I’m just helping... for now.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” he said, moving toward one of the hospital beds. “I think I like the idea of you taking care of me.”

Your fingers fumbled, nearly knocking over a bottle of murtlap essence. “Sit,” you said quickly, pointing to the bed without looking at him. “You need to sit so I can... um... look at that.”

He chuckled softly but complied, settling onto the edge of the bed. “As you wish.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you grabbed a cloth and some antiseptic. But when you turned back, he wasn’t sitting anymore. He was standing again, closer now—too close, that lazy grin still firmly in place.

Your breath caught. “You—what are you doing?”

“Stretching my legs,” he said easily, his voice low and warm.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” you said, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to sound firm. “You’re injured—”

“It’s nothing,” he said, his grin widening as he leaned against the desk, his dark eyes fixed on you. “I’m not that fragile, you know.”

“But—”

“Do I make you nervous?” he interrupted, tilting his head slightly, his curls falling into his eyes.

You immediately shook your head, even though you could feel the heat crawling up your neck. “N-no. I mean—why would you think that?”

“Because you’re practically shaking,” he said, his tone softer now, though no less teasing. “And because you keep looking anywhere but at me.”

Your eyes flicked up to his for a fraction of a second before dropping back down to the floor. “I’m not... I mean, I just—”

“You’re adorable,” he said, and the warmth in his voice made your pulse race.

You froze, your fingers tightening on the cloth in your hands. “I should clean your cut,” you mumbled, stepping back toward him.

But before you could reach him, he moved again, his hands finding the edge of the table on either side of you, caging you in.

“Mattheo—”

“I’m not going anywhere this time,” he said softly, his voice barely more than a murmur. His dark eyes held yours, the intensity in them stealing the words right out of your throat. “So stop running.”

His face was so close now, the warmth of his breath ghosting across your cheek, making your skin tingle. You could see the individual lashes framing those mesmerizing eyes, the slight curve of his lips, the way his teeth nipped gently at his lower lip...

"Come on," you muttered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. You lifted the antiseptic in your hand. "Just... please let me help you."

It sounded weak, pathetic even, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

For a long moment, he simply looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he stepped back, giving you space to breathe again.

"You're right," he said, his voice a little rougher than usual. "Thank you."

He sat back down on the bed, his posture a bit less casual now, more tense. He looked up at you through his lashes, his gaze softer than before.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to overwhelm you. I just..." He paused, seeming to struggle for the right words. "I like you, Y/N. A lot. And sometimes I forget myself around you."

You blinked rapidly, processing his words. "You... really?" you asked softly, hardly daring to believe it. Slowly, hesitantly, you took a step closer, drawn to him despite your nerves.

"Yes, really," he confirmed, his voice low and sincere. As you drew near, he reached out, his large hands coming to rest on your hips. In one smooth motion, he pulled you down onto his lap, his strong arms wrapping around your waist to steady you.

You gasped, your hands flying up to press against his chest. You could feel the firm muscles beneath his shirt, the rapid thud of his heartbeat. Your own heart raced in response, your cheeks flaming with heat.

He smiled softly, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your hip bones as he held you close. "There," he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Isn't this better?"

You squirmed slightly in his lap, hyper-aware of every point where your bodies touched. "I... I don't know if this is a good idea," you whispered, even as your traitorous body melted into his embrace. Your hands slid up his chest to loop around his neck, fingers tangling in the soft curls at his nape.

He chuckled lowly, the sound vibrating through you. "Why not? We're alone, aren't we?" His hands slid up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts through your blouse. "No one has to know..."

He leaned in, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat. "Let me take care of you," he breathed against your skin, his other hand sliding down to palm your ass. "I promise I'll make it feel good."

You whimpered softly as his lips and tongue worked magic on your sensitive skin, your head lolling back to give him better access. But as he kissed lower, you suddenly felt something wet and sticky on your throat–his cut.

"Wait," you gasped, pulling back slightly. You brought a hand up to your neck, your fingers coming away streaked with blood. "You're still bleeding, Mattheo. We should clean that first before... before anything else happens."

He paused, looking up at you with lust-darkened eyes. A slow, amused grin spread across his face. "You think I give a fuck about that right now?" he muttered, pulling you flush against him again. "Don't worry about that."

His hand fisted in your hair, tugging your head back as he attacked your throat with renewed fervor, licking and sucking at the bloodied skin.

"M-Mattheo," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "We shouldn't... not here..."

Even as you protested weakly, your hips started to move of their own accord, grinding down against the growing hardness you could feel pressing against your thighs. The friction sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you, making your head spin.

He groaned into your neck, the vibrations rumbling through his chest and into yours. His hands tightened on your hips, encouraging your movements as he rocked up against you.

"Oh, fuck. You're not as innocent as you pretend to be, huh?" he noted, his voice rough with desire.

In one fluid motion, he lifted you off his lap, rising from the bed as you stumbled back. His hands roamed possessively, sliding from your waist to the curve of your lower back before trailing up to cup the soft swell of your tits. His touch was rough and insistent, squeezing and kneading as if he couldn't get enough of you.

Before you could catch your breath, he turned you around, his firm grip guiding you into place. His hand pressed against the small of your back, a silent command that sent heat pooling in your belly as you bent forward, your chest and palms flattening against the bed.

You felt the air shift around you, cool and heady against your heated skin, as Mattheo's fingers toyed with the hem of your skirt. He dragged it up slowly, deliberately, his movements measured, as though savoring every inch of you revealed to him.

"Running from me, again and again," he muttered, his voice dark and edged with amusement. "And now look at you. Right where I’ve always wanted you."

Your breath caught, shame and desire tangling in your chest. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond—not when his hands curled under the waistband of your panties, dragging them down the curve of your thighs in one slow, tantalizing motion.

"Mattheo," you whispered, your voice trembling, barely audible above the pounding of your own heart.

His low laugh sent shivers through you. "Finally saying my name. Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear that? And not just in your shy little apologies."

Your knees nearly buckled as his fingers teased the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, tracing lazy circles closer and closer to where you ached for him. He let the silence hang, heavy and charged, before looping his arm around your front.

"Cute,” he murmured. "You’ve spent weeks avoiding me, playing coy. But I think you’ve wanted this just as much as I have. Haven’t you?"

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think—only gasp as his fingers found your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that sent sparks skittering up your spine.

"Answer me," he demanded, his tone soft but unyielding. "I want to hear you say it."

Your nails dug into the bedspread, and you shook your head, overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch. "I-I don’t…"

"Don’t what?" His fingers curled around the back of your neck, squeezing lightly. "Don’t want me? Don’t need this? Say it, sweetheart, because your body’s telling me a very different story."

You whimpered, the heat pooling between your thighs making it impossible to deny him—or yourself. "I…I want you," you finally choked out, your voice so quiet you weren’t sure he’d heard.

But he did.

"Good girl," he praised, the words dripping with satisfaction. His movements quickened, drawing tight, delicious circles that had your legs trembling. "See? That wasn’t so hard, was it? All you had to do was stop running."

A soft gasp escaped your lips as his hand slid down from your neck, tracing the curve of your hip before gripping your ass firmly. His other hand left your front, joining its twin to knead and grope the plush flesh, his thumbs digging in with a possessive hunger that made heat bloom low in your belly again.

“You’re perfect here,” he mused, his voice a deep hum as he spread your cheeks apart, his touch maddeningly deliberate. “Bent over for me like this. Made for me, aren’t you?”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the whimper that threatened to escape, but Mattheo didn’t miss it. He laughed softly, the sound dripping with smug satisfaction.

“Don’t hold back now,” he coaxed, his hands trailing up and down the back of your thighs, lingering just long enough to tease but not satisfy. “I want to hear every little sound you make for me.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could form a word, his palm landed on your ass with a sharp smack—not hard enough to hurt too much, but enough to send a jolt of heat straight through you.

“Mattheo!”

“There it is,” he purred, his hands smoothing over the spot he’d just struck, his touch soothing and warm. “You sound so fucking sweet when you say my name like that.”

Before you could respond, you felt the hard press of his length against you, separated only by the fabric of his trousers. He rolled his hips, letting you feel the full weight of him, and your knees buckled slightly at the realization of just how much he wanted you.

“You feel that?” he murmured, his lips brushing the back of your neck as he reached down to unbuckle his belt. The soft clink of metal was almost drowned out by the pounding of your heart. “That’s what you do to me. Every time you run, every time you look at me with those shy little glances—you drive me fucking insane.”

The ruffling of fabric being lowered was too hard to ignore, and you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing back over your shoulder. The sight of him—breathing heavily, his cock thick and hard, standing proudly against the taut muscles of his stomach—sent a wave of heat washing over you.

“Eyes front,” he ordered, his voice rough with arousal. When you didn’t obey fast enough, his hand came down on your ass again, the sharp sting making you gasp. “Now.”

You did as he said, pressing your forehead into the bedspread as his hands roamed over you again, his touch both reverent and demanding. One hand slipped between your thighs, spreading you open, while the other gripped your hip, holding you steady.

“God, you’re so wet for me,” he groaned, his fingers sliding through your slick folds. He teased your entrance with the tip of one finger before pushing inside, curling it just enough to make you arch back against him.

“You like that?” he asked, his voice laced with a dark kind of affection as he added another finger, stretching you slowly. “I can feel how tight you are. So perfect. So ready for me.”

Your answer was a broken moan, your body moving instinctively against his hand.

“Shit,” he breathed, pulling his fingers out only to replace them with the blunt head of his cock, teasing your entrance with maddening slowness. “You’re gonna ruin me, you know that?”

The stretch of him entering you was almost too much, but the way he worked you—inch by agonizing inch, his hands gripping your hips to keep you still—sent a wave of pleasure through you that made your toes curl.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice a husky growl as he bottomed out, filling you completely. He stayed there for a moment, his breathing ragged, his hands running over the curve of your back and the swell of your ass. “You feel so fucking good, baby. So tight, so perfect. Tell me how it feels.”

“Good,” you managed, your voice barely more than a whisper. “So good.”

“Yeah?” He pulled back slowly, leaving only the tip of his cock inside you before snapping his hips forward again with a deep thrust, filling you completely. You gasped, your body jerking forward at the force, but he didn’t give you a moment to adjust. He set a slow, measured pace, his thrusts deep but deliberate, pulling out and pushing back into you with an almost agonizing slowness that made your heart race. “You like it when I fill you up like this? When I make you mine?”

Your only response was a strangled moan, your fingers clutching the sheets as he sped up his rhythm, each thrust driving you closer to the edge.

His hand left your hip, sliding down to your front to brush your clit with just the right amount of pressure. "God, you’re perfect," he muttered, his voice rough as he continued to slide in and out of you, each stroke a slow burn. "I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone like I want you right now."

The pressure inside you was building, slow and steady, like the tightening of a coil. You could feel every inch of him, each thrust dragging out the pleasure until it was almost unbearable. You clenched around him, urging him deeper, and he groaned in response, his grip tightening on your hips as he pushed you harder into the bed.

“You’re fucking incredible,” he breathed, his voice rough and full of need. His thrusts picked up, faster now, more urgent, but still controlled, as if he wanted to drag this out as long as possible. “You feel so fucking good, so warm and tight around me. Don’t hold back. I want to hear you.”

Your hands gripped the sheets, nails digging into the fabric as the pleasure mounted. He hit that sweet spot inside you with every thrust, driving you mad with the sensation, and you couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped your lips.

“Please…” you gasped, not sure if you were begging for more or for him to take you faster. It didn’t matter. You just needed him.

Mattheo smirked, his fingers still pressing against your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "You want it faster? You want me to make you come on my cock?"

You nodded, desperate for more. “Yes, please…”

“That’s what I thought,” he rasped, his thrusts quickening as he slammed into you with abandon. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with the low groans escaping both of you.

With one final, devastating thrust, you shattered, your release crashing over you like a tidal wave. Mattheo wasn’t far behind, his rhythm growing erratic as he buried himself deep inside you, groaning your name as he followed you over the edge.

For a moment, the world was nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths and the heat of his body against yours. Then, slowly, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“You’re not running from me again,” he murmured, his voice a quiet promise. “Not now. Not ever.”

ficmas taglist: @winnie1emon @ur-local-wizard @satosugu4-ever @ankoluvs @superstargirll @slytherin-princess-x @abeoavita @mattheoriddle101 @georgiastars13 @smoooore @mattheoriddles-sluttt @2dloveshp @mattysprincess @catching-fire-in-the-wind @revesephemeres @esmerai-artemis @clar2aa @enchantingpatrolharmony @iamaconfusedpan

(comment or dm to be added to the taglist)

#mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle

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glittervame · 2 months ago

Text

I owe you that bonus

Summary: Mattheo and Y/n meet on a roof, they're both assassins

Mattheo Riddle x FEM!Reader Assassin!AU

Warning: Smut+18 MDI, blindfolding, Knife play, spanking, female body piercing, voice kink, Humiliation, Praising, and eating out, overstimulation, Doggy, missionary, Reverse Cowgirl

Y/n looked up at Mattheo, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in his words. She was used to working alone, but the situation was intriguing, to say the least. "Well, isn't this a twist," she murmured, a hint of amusement playing on her lips. "Two cats stalking the same mouse. But I've never been one to share my prey."

The rooftop was a silent dance floor of shadows, the moon casting a pale glow over the tiles as she shifted her weight, her boots barely making a sound. Her outfit was a blend of blacks and dark greys, tailored to hug her lithe form and allow for ease of movement. A sleek ponytail held back her hair, which was covered by her hood, and her eyes gleamed with a sharp intelligence.

Mattheo was equally dressed for the part, his own attire a mix of form and function. His gaze was intense, like he could see right through the shadows and into her soul. But Y/n knew better; she had her own secrets, and she wasn't about to let anyone, not even someone as intriguing as him, get too close.

"Impressive, are they?" she asked, her voice low and smooth. "My methods, I mean." She stepped closer to him, tilting her head slightly to the side. "What makes you say that?"

Mattheo's eyes traveled over her, taking in the way she held herself with an unmistakable air of confidence. He couldn't help but be drawn to her, not just because she was the only thing standing between him and his target, but because there was something about her that was… captivating.

"The way you scaled that fire escape like it was nothing," he said, his voice equally as low. "And the way you blend into the night. It's like watching a ghost at work."

Y/n smirked, a hint of pride in her expression. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Riddle. But I'll admit, I'm curious about how you found me. I didn't leave any tracks."

He shrugged, a smirk playing on his own lips. "I have my ways."

They stared at each other for a moment, the tension thick between them. It was a silent battle of wills, each one daring the other to make the first move. Finally, Y/n broke the silence.

"Alright," she said, her tone cool and calculated. "We're both professionals here." She held out a gloved hand. "Let's make a deal. We both walk away from this job with our pay. I'll even throw in a little bonus for the inconvenience."

Mattheo took her hand, his grip firm but not overpowering. "What kind of bonus?"

"Information," she replied, her eyes locking onto his. "I know something about your mark that could make the job a lot easier for the both of us. But I want half the bounty."

Mattheo raised an eyebrow. "You drive a hard bargain."

"Only because I know I'm worth it," she said with a shrug. "So, what do you say?"

The two of them stood there for a moment longer, the wind whispering around them as it played with the loose strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail. Finally, with a sigh, Mattheo nodded.

"Alright, we'll do it your way. But know this," he warned, his grip tightening slightly. "If you're playing me, you won't like the consequences."

"Oh, I'm not playing," Y/n said with a wink. "I'm just rewriting the rules."

And with that, they both turned their gazes back to the house below, ready to tackle the job as an unexpected but potentially deadly team.

"You get the two guys and I'll get the two women. We'll meet back here when were done, understand?" Her gaze locks onto him.

"Crystal," he nodded. "But remember, no funny business."

Y/n chuckled darkly. "From me?" She leaned closer, her voice a whisper. "Now why would I do anything to jeopardize such a… fruitful partnership?"

With a final nod, they both disappeared into the night, their shadows merging with the darkness as they descended from the rooftop to carry out their respective tasks. The house below was about to become a battleground, and neither of them would leave empty-handed.

She scales the side of the house with the agility of a cat burglar, her blade, a silent sentinel, sheathed at her side. The ivy whispers its approval as she ascends, each leaf a silent witness to the dance of death she is about to perform.

Reaching the second story, she finds an open window, the curtains fluttering gently in the night breeze. She pauses, listening intently for any signs of movement within. The house is as quiet as the tomb it will soon become. Satisfied, she slips inside, the floorboards not daring to betray her.

The hallway is dimly lit by the hall nightlights, flickering shadows playing across the walls. She can feel the tension in the air, the anticipation of what is to come. With the stealth of a ghost, she makes her way through the corridor, her eyes adjusted to the gloom, seeking the room where her targets lay.

The first door is ajar, a sliver of light spilling out into the darkness. She peers inside, her heart beating with calmness, and spots the first woman, asleep in her bed. The room is a picture of serenity, the scent of lavender wafting through the air from a nearby candle. Y/n draws her blade, a gleaming arc of moonlit steel, and with a swift and silent step, she enters the room.

The woman's breathing is deep and regular, showing her peaceful slumber. Y/n approaches the bed, her movements a symphony of lethal intent. The blade slices through the air and finds its home in the woman's chest. The target stirs briefly, a look of shock and pain flitting across her face, and then she is still. The candle flame dances, unfazed by the sudden absence of life.

The second woman's room is further down the hall. Y/n pads softly to the door, pressing her ear to the wood. She can hear the steady rhythm of sleep and Mattheo downstairs with the two men. With a turn of the doorknob that makes no sound, she steps inside. This room is starkly different, filled with the scent of burning incense and the faint hum of a spinning loom. The woman lies in her bed, one arm flung over her eyes, lost in the realm of dreams.

Y/n moves with the grace of a dancer, her blade a silent partner in this deadly ballet. The woman senses a disturbance and starts to stir, but it is too late. The blade finds its mark, a swift and precise stab to the heart, and the second target is dispatched with the same cold efficiency as the first. The loom's wheel continues to turn, the threads of fate now severed.

With the targets neutralized, Y/n takes a moment to ensure the scene appears as natural as possible. She wipes her blade clean and sheathes it, the metal whispering against the leather. She exits the room, leaving the loom's rhythmic turning as the only mournful tune in the now lifeless house.

Her mission complete, she retreats into the shadows of the night, moving to meet Mattheo in the same place they parted.

Their eyes meet again on the rooftop, a silent question passing between them. They had done what needed to be done, but something had changed. The air was charged with a newfound respect, a hint of curiosity, and maybe, just maybe, a spark of something more.

"You're good," he said, his voice holding a note of admiration.

"So are you," she replied, her eyes never leaving his. "Let's not make a habit of this, though."

Mattheo chuckled, a low sound that seemed to resonate with the night itself. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"I believe I owe you that bonus"

The room was dimly lit with a few candles casting flickering shadows across the walls, setting a sultry and mysterious atmosphere. The air was thick with anticipation as Y/n and Mattheo lay on the soft, velvet-covered bed, their hearts racing in unison.

Mattheo began by gently blindfolding Y/n, his calloused fingers brushing against her soft skin as he secured the silky material in place. The sudden darkness heightened her other senses, making every touch, every sound, and every smell more intense. She felt him lean in close, his warm breath tickling her ear as he whispered sweet nothings and filthy promises. His voice was like a siren's song, beckoning her to let go and submit to his desires.

With a mischievous smirk, he reached for the nightstand and retrieved a small, cold object. It was a knife, the steel glinting in the candlelight. Y/n's breath hitched as he trailed the flat side of the blade along her collarbone, the coolness a stark contrast to the warmth of her body. He was careful, of course, but the thrill of danger made her pulse race even faster. He continued to trace light patterns on her skin, moving lower, teasing the edge of her breasts and making her shiver with excitement.

Mattheo was attentive to Y/n's every reaction, his eyes never leaving hers even though she couldn't see him. He knew her body like a map, every curve and dip, every spot that made her gasp with pleasure. He leaned down to kiss her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh as he felt her arch into him. His hand strayed to her hip, his fingers digging in just enough to leave a temporary imprint. The spanking was light at first, but grew firmer with each slap, turning her skin a rosy hue that made him hungry for more.

Her voice grew breathless as she begged for more, her voice a soft, needy whine that made his cock throb with desire. He loved her voice, the way it cracked and trembled when she was on the edge. It was a powerful aphrodisiac, and it made him want to push her even further. He leaned in closer, whispering sweet praises into her ear as his hand continued to rain down on her ass, alternating between gentle and firm.

The scent of their arousal filled the air as he reached for her piercings, playing with the delicate jewelry adorning her body. He knew the sensation was intense for her, a direct line to her pleasure center, and he used it to his advantage. Twisting and tugging gently, he watched her face contort in ecstasy, her moans growing louder and more desperate.

With the knife safely put away, he moved down her body, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses and licks as he went. When he reached her sex, he paused, taking a moment to admire the wetness glistening in the candlelight. He parted her folds with his thumbs and dove in, his tongue seeking out her clit with unerring precision. The suddenness of the contact made her jolt, her hips bucking against his face as she moaned his name.

He didn't hold back, licking and sucking with a fervor that bordered on obsession. His tongue danced around the sensitive bundle of nerves, teasing and flicking until she was writhing beneath him, her breath coming in panting gasps. His voice grew rough with need as he whispered crude, degrading words into her ear, a dark thrill that only added to her pleasure.

Y/n could feel herself building, the pressure growing with each passing second. She was so close, her body on the brink of exploding. But Mattheo wasn't done with her yet. He knew she could take more, craved more. He pushed two fingers inside her, pumping them in time with his tongue. The overstimulation was almost too much, her muscles tightening around him as she begged for release.

And then it came, a powerful orgasm that ripped through her like a tornado, leaving her trembling and gasping for air. But Mattheo didn't stop, his tongue and fingers relentless as he coaxed another climax from her quivering body. Each wave washed over her, making her scream his name as she rode the crest of pleasure.

When she was finally spent, he moved up to kiss her deeply, sharing her taste with her in a way that was both intimate and possessive. He removed the blindfold, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he looked down at her flushed face as she moved into position.

Mattheo's eyes gleamed with lustful intent as he approached Y/n, who was already on all fours, her back arched like a sleek panther ready for its prey. Her heart raced with excitement and trepidation, knowing the night was going to be one of unbridled passion and uninhibited desire. The room was bathed in a soft, red glow from the neon lights outside their hotel window, casting an erotic hue across their naked bodies.

He took in the sight of her, his gaze lingering on the delicate piercings that adorned her body; the glint of the barbell through her navel, the studs that decorated her nipples, and the subtle shimmer of the ring that pierced her clit. He reached out and traced the path of her spine with his fingertips, feeling the softness of her skin give way to the firmness of her muscles.

"You're so beautiful, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with arousal. "And so fucking obedient."

Y/n whimpered at his touch, her pussy already dripping with anticipation. She loved it when he talked dirty to her, when he praised her body, and when he took control. It sent shivers down her spine and made her want him even more.

Mattheo leaned down, his breath hot against her ear. "You know what I want, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir," she replied, her voice a mix of excitement and submission.

With a smirk, he positioned himself behind her, aligning his thick cock with her slick entrance. He didn't bother with gentle prodding or sweet kisses; he knew she liked it rough, liked to be filled and used. In one swift motion, he thrust into her, burying himself to the hilt.

Y/n gasped, her eyes rolling back in her head at the sudden intrusion. She felt so full, so complete with him inside her. The piercings in her nipples rubbed against the soft fabric of the pillow she was face down on, sending sparks of pleasure straight to her clit.

He began to move, his hips slapping against her ass with each powerful thrust. The sound echoed through the room, a rhythmic symphony of desire. His hands found her hips, his grip tightening as he pulled her back into him, pushing himself even deeper. He could feel her pussy clench around him, desperate to keep him inside her.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, his voice a harsh rumble. "Take it all, baby. Take every inch of me."

Y/n's breath hitched as she felt the beginnings of an orgasm building deep within her. She reached back, her hand blindly searching for his, and when she found it, she laced her fingers through his, squeezing tightly. He responded by spanking her, the sound of his hand meeting her flesh echoing through the room. She yelped, the pain mingling with pleasure in a heady mix that sent her spiraling closer to the edge.

"You like that, don't you?" he taunted, his voice a mix of amusement and lust. "You're such a naughty little slut."

The words were a trigger, and she felt herself climbing higher, her pussy tightening around him as he fucked her harder and faster. He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back as he whispered more filthy praise into her ear, his voice a sweet, sinful melody that made her body sing.

"You're so good for me," he crooned, his hand sliding down to cup her clit, rubbing the piercing in a way that had her panting. "So tight, so wet, so responsive."

He increased the pressure, his thumb working her clit in a merciless rhythm that matched the pounding of his cock. Y/n's body was a live wire, each touch and caress sending jolts of electricity through her veins. She was so close, so very close to falling over the edge.

And then she felt it, the intense pressure building, the heat pooling in her core, and with a scream that was half pleasure, half pain, she came, her body shaking violently as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her.

Mattheo wasn't far behind, his own release building with each thrust. He reached down and slapped her ass one more time, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot.

"That's it, baby," he growled. "Cum for me."

The final slap pushed him over the edge, and with a roar, he emptied himself into her, filling her up with his hot seed. He collapsed onto her, his cock still pulsing inside her, his breath ragged in her ear.

"Wanna see how many more times I can fill you, baby? Hmm?" He asks, his breath fanning over her neck as he maneuvers her into a missionary position, his cock still semi-hard and leaking cum.

"Yes, Sir," she gasped, her voice a breathless whisper.

He smirked, knowing she was insatiable, knowing she'd beg for more. He kissed her, his tongue invading her mouth as he began to move again, his cock hardening with each stroke. He lets out a low groan as throws his head back, his eyes never leaving hers.

"You're so fucking perfect," he murmured, his voice a mix of praise and awe. "So eager, so hungry."

Y/n could only nod, her eyes glazed over with lust as she felt him grow harder and thicker inside her. He picked up the pace, his movements more urgent now, his hips slapping against her with renewed vigor. She could feel the beginnings of another orgasm building, the sensations from her piercings adding an extra layer of intensity.

Mattheo's voice grew more demanding, his words a mix of praise and humiliation that only served to drive her higher. "Look at you, taking it like a champ. So eager for me to use you, to fill you up and make you cum."

Y/n's cheeks flushed, but she didn't protest. Instead, she wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him to go deeper, to fuck her harder. And he did, his hands moving to squeeze her breasts, to pinch her pierced nipples until she screamed.

"You like that, don't you?" he demanded. "You like it when I hurt you, when I make you feel like a dirty little whore."

"Yes, Sir," she whimpered, her eyes welling with tears. "I do."

He chuckled, the sound dark and possessive. "Good girl," he purred, leaning down to kiss away her tears. "So beautiful when you're in pain."

Her body responded to his words, her pussy clenching around him as she reached for another climax. He could feel it, the way she tightened around him, the way her breathing grew erratic. He knew she was close, so close, and he wasn't going to let up until she was a trembling, quivering mess beneath him.

He reached between them, his thumb finding her clit once more. He began to rub it in time with his thrusts, watching as her eyes rolled back in her head and her body tensed. She was so close, so very close, and he could feel it in every fiber of his being.

"Cum for me," he ordered, his voice a gruff whisper. "Cum all over my cock, baby."

Y/n obeyed, her body bowing off the bed as she screamed out her release. It was intense, overwhelming, and she couldn't help the way her pussy clamped down on him, milking him for every drop.

Mattheo growled, his own orgasm ripping through him like a wildfire. He pumped into her, filling her with his cum, marking her as his own. He whispered sweet nothings into her ear, praising her as he came.

"Get up, baby, you gon' sit on me" He groans, leaning back.

She positioned herself atop him, her legs straddling his hips as she leaned back, her back arched in a graceful curve. Her long hair cascaded down her back, tickling the skin of her bare shoulders as she took his length in her hand and guided him to her slick entrance.

Mattheo watched her, his eyes never leaving hers as she began to lower herself onto him. The sensation of her tight warmth enveloping him made him groan, and his hands found her hips, his thumbs tracing gentle circles as she took him in inch by inch. When she was fully seated, she paused, her breath catching in her throat as she felt him fill her completely.

Y/n took a moment to savor the feeling, her eyes fluttering closed as she adjusted to the fullness. Then, she began to move, her hips rocking back and forth in a slow, deliberate rhythm. She felt Mattheo's hands tighten on her, his fingers digging into her flesh as he matched her movements, his own hips rising to meet hers. The sound of their skin meeting filled the quiet room, punctuated by their mingled sighs and moans.

The angle was perfect, hitting all the right spots, and Y/n couldn't help but lean back further, placing her hands on his thighs for balance. She watched as her breasts bounced gently with each movement, the pale light playing across her skin like a lover's caress. The view of her own body, the way she took him in, filled her with a heady sense of power and desire that had her moving faster, her movements growing more urgent.

Mattheo watched the show before him with rapt attention, his eyes never leaving her as she rode him. The way she moved, the look on her face - it was intoxicating. He reached up to cup her breasts, his thumbs flicking over her nipples in time with their rhythm, eliciting a gasp from her lips. The sensation sent shivers down her spine, making her clench around him.

Encouraged, he began to thrust upward, his movements growing more forceful to meet hers. His hips pistoned, driving into her with a primal need that had them both spiraling towards the edge. Y/n's nails dug into his thighs as she felt the pressure building, her orgasm approaching like a crescendo.

Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, a dance of passion that had been building for what felt like an eternity. Sweat beaded on their skin, mingling as their bodies slapped together in a symphony of pleasure. The bed beneath them groaned in protest, but they were lost in their own world, oblivious to anything but the feeling of each other.

Y/n leaned forward, her hair creating a curtain around their faces as she kissed him deeply, her tongue dancing with his as they continued their intimate dance. Her hips ground down onto him, her inner walls tightening as she chased her release. Mattheo could feel her getting closer, her breath coming in pants against his neck, and he knew he wasn't far behind.

With a final, desperate thrust, Y/n threw her head back and screamed his name, her body convulsing around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. The sight of her, lost in ecstasy, was all it took for Mattheo to follow, his own release pulsing through him as he buried himself deep inside her.

I'M BACK BBY'S I MISSED YOU GUYS <3

Links for the different positions: Eat Out, Back shots, Reverse Cowgirl

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