protectingpluto

[protectingpluto]

Succumb to the lust

On the eve of Halloween your three idiotic friends Mattheo Riddle, Lorenzo Berkshire and Theodore Nott invite you over for an evening of spooky fun watching horror films. However, they don't expect to release a trapped spirit, taking the night for a turn unravelling some longing desires bubbling in the pit between the four of you. Warnings: NSFW 18+, foursome, throat fucking, dirty talk, swearing, anal, double penetration, PIV, cunnilingus, f! orgasm, multiple m! orgasms, fem reader is possessed by a succumbs, a demon that survives on semen. The bold italics is her thoughts. I got vvv carried away in this 8k fic!! An: Apologises for posting this almost a month later 'halloween' fic. heads up i've never written a 4some before so I hope this is okay! <3

The thick lining of emerald covered walls do little to quieten the echo from the rowdy shouts of chatter, the sounds encapsulating around you ensuring you heard the group of boys well before you saw them. As usual, the expansive space of the Slytherin’s boy’s dorm accommodated by your three friends, greets you with the resident pungency of boyish charm. The three of them, congested and huddled like bunnies in a tight-knit burrow, are focused entirely on none other than a muggle computer.

Theo and Lorenzo hover closely behind Mattheo’s shoulder, their tall broad frames hunched with intense focus, their eyes glued to the screen, watching with excitement and a hint of fear.

Theo observes with an eagle’s line of sight, mentioning tactics of strategy to Mattheo, with his finger outstretched, pointing towards the pixelated scenery where Mattheo’s character depicted manoeuvres through the haunted maze. On Mattheo’s other side, Lorenzo presses a firm hand upon his shoulder, taking a more aggressive and chaotic tactic. Shouting bollock loads of commentary on the best way to attack the monster.

Which leaves the victim, Mattheo perched on the chair between them, his eyes flickering like a hummingbird’s wings, his brows furrowed frozen as if moulded in cement. His irritation spikes under the growing overstimulation he’s endeavouring, only resulting in another failure. Three loud shrieks fill the room when the monster jumps at the screen, it now flashing GAME OVER as the character succumbs.

A laugh unable to be contained, bellies out from you with pure delight, having watched Theo and Lorenzo almost knock Mattheo clean out of his chair in fright. The sound makes for an unconcealed alert of your presence, the extent of their swearing coming to a halt. “What’s going on here that’s got you three jumping out of your skins?”

They adjust their positions at your arrival, striking nonchalant relaxing poses, each giving you three gestures of hello. “Nothing, nothing, just playing a game.” It’s the eve of Halloween, a stormy night setting the spooky atmosphere - and what better way to spend it watching horror films. 

“Not the most feared guys in school scared of a little muggle game?” Instantly the tease in your tone replaces their once friendly expressions with the forming of three scowls and loud resorts of denial brushing off your taunt. 

“Uh huh.” You reply sarcastically, letting out a light giggle, shutting the door behind you with a click. The sound of your sweet laugh eases their original annoyance, each of their hearts swooning internally. It didn’t matter that you were making fun of them. It was so light and infectious it had even the toughest of boys’ hearts melting.

“So what movie did we wanna watch?” You ask, removing another layer, tossing it without looking onto one of their unmade beds. The room falls into a comfortable silence and you think nothing of it, assuming they’re deep in thought about your question. With precision, your focus remains entirely on neatly lining your shoes up by their door. Too caught up in the minor details of your perfectionism to notice the lingering brazen glances that follow the way you bend, showing off the fine curve of your ass.

Mattheo, lost in the hypnotisation of sinful exposure, relaxes himself with an overconfident lean on the back feet of his chair. The chair rocks with the unstableness of a stack of playing cards, collapsing out from under him in a sudden thud. The room crackles with the roars of laughter erupting from Theo and Enzo, breaking the peaceful silence. 

The loud antics snap your attention and you turn, assessing the situation of Mattheo’s clumsiness, him sprawled with a bitter grimace on the floor. Quirking a teasing smile, you offer a hand down to him. “Still spooked, Matty?”

He brushes off his embarrassment with a roll of his eyes and accepts your hand. The contact is gentle, showing his softened-down self saved for you before his face hardens, shooting a joking glare at his friends to knock it off.

“Very funny. I don’t scare easily, sweetheart.” He scoffs, shrugging off your minor hit, making the others snicker at his response.

“Sure ya don’t.” Giving a mocking nod, you stifle a laugh at his bitter defiance. “Anyway, imma pop to the bathroom. You guys sort something to watch, yeah?” Backing up towards their shared lavatory, emphasizing your words heavily while you point a finger at the three of them as if to address children. 

They give you a chorus “Yes ma’am!”, watching your frame vanish behind the wooden door. The second you’re no longer within hearing distance, an agitated sigh released from Mattheo. “Dude, what the fuck-.”

“Don’t look at me. You’re the idiot that fell out of his chair-”

“Please, I was stretching-.“

“-don’t play daft. Your jaw was on the fucking floor.”

Lorenzo’s gaze shifts away from the dispute behind him to the screen exiting the game. He takes the moment in charge to inspect around the muggle device - the three of them had stolen it off one of the pretentious muggle born Ravenclaw’s. Their plan originally to throw it off the astronomy tower for fun had switched when Theo had the curious idea to check it out first. Alas, they stumbled upon the game that had grabbed their attention for the last thirty minutes.

He continues to browse through internet explorer before his brows pull together, chuckling with intrigue. “Ooh what’s this?” Lorenzo interrupts the rambling ongoing behind him, his eyes drawn towards the blaring red picture of a busty girl with devil horns. A Halloween game advertisement that all too easily enhances his attention, luring him in with a magnetic pull. 

“Feeling lonely huh Berk, poor Ravenclaw couldn’t satis-oof-the fuck was that for, twat.” Theo releases a low grunt, his tease shut down by the sharpness of Lorenzo’s elbow jabbing into him. 

Mattheo smirks amused, leaning back against the four-poster beam, his gaze flickering over Lorenzo’s shoulder with a curious eye. “Don’t do anything stupid, Enzo.” 

Enzo grins, looking back at him, “Oh shut the fuck up, I’m the smartest here.” 

“I beg to differ.” Theo mutters. 

As if to prove Theo right, he’s already clicking on the ad with little to none rationality before the others can suggest better of it. “Enzo, what the hell did you do?!” Theo comments with frustration, watching as the ad fills up the screen, aggressively taking over control.

The computer once fully functional glitches and sparks shoot out the side, smoke ejecting out the back surrounding the machine. “YOU BROKE THE BOX THING!” “I did nothing!” “Bullshit, you fucking clicked that stupid ad-.” “Yeah! It was working perfectly before!” “don’t blame me! It was fucking tits-.” There’s a swat to the back of his head discipling Lorenzo’s greedy eyes, and he scowls bitterly. 

During the boys’ argument, electricity surges through the circuits, a powerful force traveling along the wires. Unaware to the boys, they’ve just released a deadly spirit trapped inside the confines of a pornographic ad. A wise and extremely driven succubus Mazien, banished to live out a 10000 years, advertising to sinners the luxurious pleasures of sex. A torturous punishment of watching hundreds, thousands of humans cumming over and over but forbidden to unlock the power of semen shown before her eyes.

As you move to exit the bathroom, you reach to flick the light off, but a surge of electricity vibrates through your body, shocking you. The current of electricity zaps with a powerful blast, hurling you backwards into the wall with a loud thud. The hardness of wood breaks your fall, the violent impact leaving you frazzled as you release a deep groan of achiness. 

Silence falls in the bedroom before three shouts of your name call out in panic. A multitude of concerned knocks rat on the door rapidly, wanting your attention, and seemingly only causing your head to throb harder. There’s a moment of weariness in your eyes before a dark glowing red blurs your vision and you pass out. 

Holy shit, it worked! It actually worked. Oh my god! I’m free!! A voice rings vibrating inside your head. The sound is so clear yet so distant. Must have hit your head pretty hard if you’re hearing voices. You try to shift and rub it, but the movement doesn’t happen. Your body acting on its own accord.

You lift your hands, examining them as if inspecting the delicacy of them for the first time. They look normal so far as you watch behind a tunneled vision, standing and stretching, your body cracks as though unmoved for a thousand years. The steps to the mirror feel daunting in your apprehension of what you’re about to witness. 

And then the voice rings out again, a sultry consciousness that’s loud and overbearing, a voice echoing, pounding around your membrane. Fuck me this girl is hot. I sure know how to pick ‘em. 

It’s a woman’s voice, you can tell. Watching with a hypnotized gaze at whose reflection glances back at you in the mirror. You recognize the familiarness of your features, though something lurks behind your usual humanized eyes, and then there’s your abnormal action. 

A wicked grin gleams, your tongue running along the line of teeth seductively as you check yourself out. Whoever she is, she’s clearly happy to have possessed you. Possessed right? That’s the only logical explanation for what’s happening. Though nothing about this is logical!

Her body is fuckin fit. Why are her tits not further out…I’ll just mmh uh huh yeah that’s better. With impatient hands, you pull down the fabric of your shirt, exposing far more skin than you would have preferred, fixing it the perfect way Mazien likes. Next your hair. Fingers that usually carry themselves with tender touches threads aggressively ruffling your hair into a disheveled but sexy mess. Observing peculiarly the tactical style Mazien alters your appearance, you lean forwards inspecting your lips, forming a cute pout reapplying the lip gloss found in your pocket. 

Another round of thumps slams on the door, stealing your attention, pausing the newfound vainness you’re showcasing. Listening to the murmurs, you register male voices, deep tones that lull your ears, a peaceful heaven. A strong whiff of testosterone fills your senses, the scent gliding under the door engulfing you like a familiar drug. It calls towards you like sweet temptation. Inhaling again with a deep breath, you’re able to identify the redolent of not one but three young oversexed guys. 

Gazing back at yourself in the mirror, the reflection projects a gorgeous, overconfident young woman. Beneath the eyes there’s a tinted guard, a hidden panel of glass creating a one sided window that allows a view of Mazien’s perspective of yourself. But deeper there’s an anxious girl watching with uncertainty, feeling as if your heart should beat with a rapid thump on the verge of stopping. Instead, your pulse spikes with ambition and excitement at what awaits. I’m in for a treat. 

You’re practically begging through the thickness of your thoughts to communicate and halt her ambitions with whoever the hell is in your body. She doesn’t appear to listen, moving confidently to unlock the door and greet your friends. 

They each turn to the door and it’s like a scene straight out of an 80s movie. Three boys stand aghast around a beautiful creation emerging from their wildest fantasies. As if a smoke of cloud had appeared behind you, effortless breaths of wind blowing your hair and a gleaming spotlight captivating your beauty. 

You appear normal enough. Flashing them an amused smile, Mazien knows her touch ups to your appearance have worked their magic. Holy fuck, aren’t these boys a sight for sore eyes!

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Cocking a curious brow, you step back into the cozy nest of boisterous chaos that now remains a quiet tension. Your tone is sweet, feigning innocence and obliviousness. 

They shrug nonchalantly, acting as if they hadn’t all just been drooling over you. Though you’ve always been beautiful, there’s something different about you they can’t quite put their tongue on.

Theo is the first to speak. Clicking his mouth with a low hum, he observes you with his usual intenseness, taking in every detail about you. His lips pull in a calming smile, finding interest in the newfound confidence you’re asserting. “You alright bella?” 

Nodding, you grin reassuringly, “yeah I’m perfect, just got a little shock. What happened out here?” Your lips shine under the illuminating lights, enticing their eyes to flutter, taking in the shimmer sparkling on them. Had they always been that pretty, that luscious and full? 

Enzo chuckles, brushing off the issue as no big deal. “nothi-“

“Enzo brought a virus onto the machine and broke it.” Mattheo states blankly, happy to shove his friend under the bus. 

Muttering a bitter motherfucker under his breath, he turns, defending himself with feigned innocence. “What! I did no such thing!” Looking directly at you with playful cuteness, hoping you’ll believe him. 

You’re used to their bickering antics and would normally roll your eyes, but Mazien controlling you is highly entertaining and releases a giggle unlike yourself. It’s not high pitched and cringe like you’d expect. It’s sweet and flirtatious? 

You didn’t even know your voice could break a pitch that high, but it grabs the boy’s attention in a new way as they consume the energy, you’re inviting them to match. “Enzo, what did you click on?” You ask with another teasing tone as you sweet talk him.

He bites his lip, trying to appear nonchalant, but he’s beginning to sweat anxiously. They never talk about their sexual desires around you. “Nothing, I just got curious.”

Oh baby boy I know exactly what you clicked on.

Theo, much like Mattheo, finds enjoyment in ripping the rug out from Enzo. “Curious, my ass. Fuckin horny shit.” Theo rolls his eyes, hiding the smirk at his friend. His tone is low, but you’re able to make out what he’s saying with Mazien’s heightened hearing.  

Pouting with feigned confusion, your brows crease, crossing your arms, projecting your tits to compress. “Horny? What did you click on?” 

A slight flush threatens its way up Lorenzo’s neck, and Theo and Mattheo snicker at his embarrassment. Mattheo speaks up, throwing an arm around your shoulder, “nothing to worry your pretty head about y/n, let’s just watch the movie yeah.” He speaks reassuringly with comfort that the usual you would embrace, but with Mazien inside your veins, she wants a little fun. 

“Oh, I don’t know if I’m feeling that anymore.” Your eyes linger on Enzo as if checking him out. “Not if Enzo’s feeling a little… hot.” 

Lorenzo’s flush finally breaks the surface, adoring his skin a deep red, and he laughs, stretching his arms awkwardly. He’s not entirely sure how to react, but one glance at your tantalizing gaze and he suddenly grins with an idea. “Oh yeah idk if I can focus on anything right now with all this going on.” 

Mattheo and Theo share looks of confusion, “dude wtf.” 

“It’s okay.. I don’t mind helping Enzie out. It is Halloween, after all. You all deserve a treat.” Grinning with satisfaction, you move in front of the three of them. Mazien inspects the difference in their sizes and yourself. It’s not extreme, but it still has your mind spiraling at the strength they could inflict on you, enthusing her of what’s coming.

“Treats?” They repeat their ears tuned in like dogs, the three of them tilting their heads with uncertainty, sharing curiosity with one another. There’s no logical explanation for how you’re acting right now and their minds tick like time bombs trying to unravel the mystery of your sudden change in behavior . 

Despite their brutal confusion, there’s something lingering under the surface, an itch desperate to be scratched. You’ve all been friends since first year, a strong friendship held together by the bonds of trauma, pranks and overall deep respect. The strings threaten to loosen with the suggestion, and their weakening control slips with sexual interest at the opportunity you’re possibly offering them. 

No way they’re actually buying into this? Course they are, sweetheart. These horn dogs may be your friends, but they want to fuck you all the same. Mazien addresses you suddenly through your mind. Is she on your side? 

“Yeah, something with a sweet kick.” Your finger taps lightly under each of their chins, walking past them individually, holding their undivided attention. “A little tang that will tickle my tastebuds.” Until you stop in front of lucky boy number one, Enzo.

His brows furrow at the delicate caress of your hand cupping his jaw, having no time to react as your lips press with an eagerness onto his. A small moan leaves your lips and Enzo’s shock melts instantly away, replaced by a hungry desire kissing back forcibly. His tongue is already diving greedily and getting lost in the sensation of this fantasy. The kiss is messy, and your hands roam over his sides getting excited at his lusted participation. 

Theo and Mattheo share a look with one another, not quite believing the sight presented before them. You’re making out with Enzo right in front of them. Their jaws are practically on the floor. You pull back grinning a seductive look letting out a flirtatious giggle. You look over at Theo and Mattheo. “Aw, are you boys feeling lonely?”

You move quicker than usual, the sexual endurance from Enzo’s kiss fueling your energy levels within. Colliding your lips against Mattheo, the energy eccentric with lust, your fingers threading into the depths of his locks with a force that entices a groan from his throat. Like Enzo’s, it’s messy, his hands sliding around your frame, pressing you up against him. You reach searching for the third boy, looping your fingers through Theo’s pant hoops and guiding him towards you with dominance as you switch to smashing your lips onto his instead. 

The initial shock vanishes as quickly as it arose, the three of them falling into their usual sexual confidence in the bedroom. Mattheo’s fingers skillfully meander, assimilating every nook and grove of your body, his lips finding their place opposite Enzo as they graze feverish kisses on either side of your neck. Both determined to taint the sensitive tissue with prideful marks, while Theo ensures you feel his dominance just with the force of his tongue. A mass of moans meshing amongst the three of you in sexual pleasure. 

This is too easy! I’ll have these boys cumming in no time. 

Tilting your head backwards from Theo, you relish the breath of air that fills you, releasing a satisfied hum at Mattheo and Lorenzo’s actions, forming goosebumps along your skin. Small moans stumble from your needy, enfeebled state, your heartbeat fluttering with rapid thumps down to your core. You close your eyes, caught up in the bliss caging both boy’s lips to your neck, Theo watching with a darkened look in his eye. The pure sounds you utter breathlessly send vibrations straight to their aching groins, the sultriness in your voice blurring their minds in a foggy cloud, a sight they never imagined experiencing. 

The way you carried your confidence in everyday life was nothing compared to the level of seduction present, hooking into their skin with a tight hold. Just like a fish limping out of water, there was no use in struggling for air. You already had your hand on their throats and they invited the feeling in. It’s unlike anything they’d expect from you, the total bliss adorning upon your face with poise, hypnotizing them lustfully. 

Their pants tightening doesn’t go unnoticed and you smirk arrogantly. “Aw, are we feeling a little tense, boys?” Rotating to align yourself in the center of their angled legs, you lower down onto your knees. Fingers lined with yearning graze up the lengths of Mattheo and Enzo thighs, inching up the innermost part towards their dark cravings. “Well, what are you waiting for? Whip out those pretty cocks.” 

The lewd words that glide from your pretty lips short-circuits their brains, a part of them convinced this is a weird connected dream the three of them are sharing. They all start speaking at once, revealing their reactions, looking hesitant, wondering who will be the first brave soldier to succumb. 

“Merlin sake…” “fuckin hell who knew you were such a slut y/n-“ “are you insane!? I’m not getting my cock out in front of these two idiots!” “Aw feeling shy huh Mattheo?” “Dont be such a puss-” “Hey! Shut the fuck up before I shut it up for you.”

“Ah ah ah boys!” Grabbing their attention with a few claps, the sound loud and commanding as you tut at them. Your hands climb their way up Theo’s long trousers, gazing with lustful wide eyes between the three of them. It’s an unholy sight driving Mazien mad while you watch paralyzed within your mind at the scene about to unfold. 

It’s alright baby, we’ll convince them to sit tight. 

Biting your lip, your head tilts innocently. “First one to show me their cock gets to fuck me. You do wanna fuck me don’t you boys?” The mocking undertone rolls of your tongue pleasantly, and your heartbeat spikes a heated desire growing within.

The silence is deafening, your promise hanging in the air within each of their grasps. With lightning speed, they quickly loosened their belts, synchronised and lower their trousers. You giggle, eating up their neediness. The more desperate, the better they’ll cum. 

Your eyes light up, analyzing the three different dicks presented in offering towards you. Theodore stands to your right and even with a brief look, it’s easily the biggest out of the three. The sight creates erotic images thinking about it filling you up. Mattheo standing in the middle pumps his own, his fingers gliding along the thickness, a protruding vein catching your eye. Last, Lorenzo’s pink tip gleams and your eyes take in the slight curve of his length, mouth watering at the view. 

The slow, excruciating moment of your appreciation is short-lived as they grow restless under your tantalizing gaze. Mattheo, never one to show patience, reaches first his hands, diving into your hair and tightly pulling you towards him. “You got what you wanted, so don’t get shy now.” Gladly, you open your mouth, allowing him to glide his cock inside. 

A deep sigh falls from his luscious lips, moaning a quiet, “f-fuck.” Your lips slide along his length, sucking with determination, hollowing your cheeks. Resting a hand on his thigh, you bob, inching further down causing your mouth to salivate. Pulling off, ignoring his protest, you spit the newly created drool in both hands, taking a hold of Theo and Enzo’s dick pumping them.

You can feel the way your pussy clenches, desperate for this fantasy coming to life. A surge of energy fills the air, like a switch being flipped, and you know you’ve lost control. Theo and Enzo rest their hands on your head, encouraging you to take Mattheo’s cock further. The force of their hold makes you gag around Mattheo’s dick, moaning out.

A shared degrading laugh falls collectively. “Aw look, she’s taken you so well Matt.”

“For such a small mouth she sure can fill herself well.”

“Fuck..cant wait to see her really stuffed.”

Mattheo’s hips thrust with vigorous strength, ensuring he grazes the back of your throat. “Oh-h yeah baby like that. Look at that a total fuckin slut taking me so well.” 

“Never thought I’d see the day she was choking on one of our dicks.” Lorenzo smirks, highly entranced by the tears pooling in your eyes threatening to spill with each buck of Mattheo’s hips. 

It’s only a few seconds later and oxygen is being welcomed back into your lungs before being stolen by the tight hold that Theo redirects your head towards his brightening, reddened tip. Mattheo releases an exasperated, audible protest. “What the fuck are you doing?!” 

“You’re fuckin hogging her.” Replacing where your mouth once occupied on Mattheo’s cock with your enthusiastic hands. Theo groans, enjoying the way your jaw relaxes in order to accommodate for his size. “That’s it baby, take it a little more.” 

Your hand falls from Enzo’s grasp as he retreats, moving around behind you, pressing the heat of his chest to your back. A desperate caress of his hands covers your body, sliding up to massage your tits from behind and he whispers grazing your ear, “so perfect. Gonna let me do whatever I want?”

Eyes still glued to Theo’s deepened frown, his low tone muttering curses in Italian, making you moan at the visionary sight. You give a small nod, lips still around his cock at Enzo’s words.

Your knees lift, assisting Enzo in ridding the tedious barrier of your shorts and panties before elevating your ass for him. “You two are missing out. This is the real treat.” Your mind flutters in a flurry as Enzo slides his tongue along your slit in one long, tortuous tease. His hands take hold of your thighs, pushing them apart with a nudge of his knee. 

Erupting a squeal, you moan around Theo’s cock. “F-fuckin hell bella, Enzo keep doing that she’s lovin it.” Theo commands his hand, pulling tighter on your hair. “Oh yeah..yeah like that.”

Mattheo, who’s still bristling at the stolen blowjob attention, releases a shaky breath, attempting to contain his jealousy. Antsy he slides a hand under the top of your tank, groaning when greeted by the bare flesh of your tit. He squeezes urgently, fingers swallowing your skin in his grasp, enticing breathless gasps. 

Waves of hot pleasure course along your veins under the weight of the boys’ touches and their vocal displays of gratification. The sensations enhance your arousal, greedily devoured by Enzo spreading your cheeks further apart to dig deeper, sucking at the new douse of wetness. 

Holy shit! I can feel how much you love this sweet girl. You wanna cum so badly, don’t you? Mazien laugh echoes inside your head. 

From your backseat position, you can feel the way your body is reacting to everything happening. It’s an insatiable feeling experiencing it all while being unable to control your body or actions. Every nerve heightened as if lit by the fires of hell. Your legs tremble under Lorenzo’s grip, weakening your stature, your head spinning with nauseating need.

You don’t have time to feel embarrassed when you are under the control of Mazien. If anything, you feel grateful. She senses that and releases Theo’s cock from your mouth, replacing it with your hand again, smirking at your thoughts. 

Holding both Mattheo’s and Theo’s cocks, you pump them, angling their tips towards your mouth, waiting with your tongue sticking out eagerly. They grunt, their shoulders touching, standing close in order to have the right position for you. You watch how their brows crease, frustrated with pleasure, both their hands holding your hair with iron grips for stability. 

You moan at Enzo’s relentless pace in eating you out, his tongue bringing endless attention towards your clit. The skillful flick of his tongue overwhelming the bundle of senses and your legs convulse, squeezing his head.

You can tell they’re both being stubborn, competing against one another for your praise at who can hold out the longest. You swirl your tongue, licking the tips of both their cocks as one, not caring if they find it awkward. “You’re close aren’t ya..come on boys cum for me.”

“Jesus mate, just fucking cum already.” Mattheo smirks between breaths and moans. 

“Be my guest Riddle.” Theo grunts, his breath equally ragged, “M-maledetto.” 

You roll your eyes at their bickering, continuing to press your ass up, grinding back on Enzo’s blissful face, his hands digging into your cheeks, likely bruising the skin. These boys are so cute, they wanna please us so badly. Deciding their competitiveness is starting to delay the process of Mazien getting what she needs, you give them a glorious offer. “Whoever cums first gets my ass.” 

Eyes widening with lust, Mattheo is quick to cum, the idea of getting to be the first one to fill your tight sacred hole, pushing him over. His hands grip your hair, tugging with a force to ensure your mouth envelops him once more, not allowing you to miss every shot of fluid that jets tainting your tongue. 

Instantly you’re hit with the nostalgic tang of salty cum. It coats your throat like a refreshing elixir hydrating your body after a drought. The taste satisfying glides with ease at your natural mechanism to swallow. Pulling back with a happy pop, you hum heavenly at the first batch. Oh yeah, this is exactly what I need. 

Theo scoffs a laugh, redirecting your focus back onto his aching cock. “God, Matt always has been an ass man, haven’t you?” 

Mattheo’s head still tilted back pants with a blissful expression coating his face, eyes still closed. “Of course it’s the best hole.” When he regains his breath, he squats down, pulling your shirt down and releasing your tit. “Sweet tasty of victory, god these fucking tits y/n.” He mumbles, taking a mouthful of your nipple, swirling his tongue around it, squeezing the other in a circular motion. 

Sensing the arrival of your orgasm, you squeeze Theo’s cock, needing something to grip, your eyes closing with pleasure etched on your face continuously muttering moans. Enzo increases his pace, diving his tongue further inwards, lapping with the intensity of a starved man. Mattheo and Theo hold you still, preventing your body from squirming as you try to both escape and embrace the pleasure.  

He moans, talking you through your climax. “So pretty for’me, that’s it sweetheart soaking my face.” The overstimulation pushes you over the brink, causing the sickly downpour of cum to drench Enzo’s sweet lips. A deep glottal groan ricochets against your clit spurring a high mew, making him chuckle, swallowing your juices with happiness, not bothered about himself not orgasming yet. 

Theo’s hips jut at the peak of his own orgasm, his hands felicitously press a hand to the back of your head, warranting you can’t pull back, making you take the entirety of him. Oh this boy has a load on him. I’ll swallow it all!

Your eyes prick once again, your throat constricting around the depth of his length, snuggly emptying himself with broken groans. You love it, eyes gleaming with a lively sparkle, being used exactly how you need to be. I can feel it working already! But they don’t look down, always have more room for semen.

Mattheo continues his attack, sucking along the tops of your cleavage, relishing in the coughs of air you take in Theo’s release. You clean the access of the drool from the corners of your mouth, resting your chin atop of Mattheo’s head for support. He eats up every gasped whimper you elicit as he plants hickies along the sides of the tissue.

Theo doesn’t hesitate to push him out of the way again. “Quit marking her like she’s yours. Move her on the bed.” 

Mattheo scowls at his scolding, frowning at Theo’s audacity. “Who put you fucking in charge?”

“I think I get a little credit for lasting the longest.” Theo smirks “isn’t that right, bella?” 

You lean back into the comfort of Enzo’s lap, his burly thighs acting in support for your feeble state. Enzo’s arms scoop under yours, lifting and pulling you up and onto the bed, letting you lay fully down. “No need to fight, plenty to go around.” Watching Theo and Mattheo advance you smirk with a desired appetite. 

Enzo hastily lifts you up to release your tits from the confines of your tank and a chorus of groans fills the room, watching with darkened eyes at how your tits bounce, recoiling from the action. Enzo peers overtop, muttering huskily mostly to himself, “Fuck me, she came over not even wearing a bra.” 

“Yeah figured that when I had my one out in the ope-” 

“Piss off Riddle I couldn’t fuckin see.” Enzo rolls his eyes with deep irritation at the amused smug Mattheo shoots him. He redirects his attention down to you, flicking his eyes over the relaxed state your breasts fall, rising with each shallow breath you release. 

He cups a hand under your jaw, tilting it backwards to capture your gaze, giving you a filthy cheek of a grin. Even upside down, he looks handsome as ever, adorned with the glistening remains of yourself on his pretty lips. His eyes hold contact with you, foreheads pressed together intimately as he lowers down, replicating the spiderman kiss. 

His lips move with rushed intensity, tongues tangling with one another, transferring yourself onto your tongue, dirtying your taste. It’s a filthy delicious flavour, rendering you weak with feeling. Mazien doesn’t mind either, relishing in the taste of yourself on your lips. Oh sweet baby you taste absolutely sinful. 

Her words only add to the heat scorching your body, an itch under your skin being scratched delightfully and you moan pressing further into Enzo’s kiss. Cupping his cheek, your nails scratch into his scalp, keeping him perfectly in place. 

Mattheo and Theo roll their eyes, watching Lorenzo’s seduction tactics and crawl up on either side of you, latching a mouthful to each one of your breasts. Their styles differ from one another, Mattheo’s tongue circling and grazing his teeth over the sensitive nipple. While Theo flattens his tongue with slowness, pressing thousands of tender kisses across the surface. The combination of three tongues on your body has you squirming, overwhelmed by such sensations. 

Oh sweetheart these boys are gonna wreck you and I’ll eat it all up deliciously.

The air is sultry with thick desperation, suffocating the room, creating tension and competition between the two boys. In the battle of ascending on who can reach your needy cunt begging for attention first, Theo and Mattheo butt heads, both of them groaning in frustration and pain. You close your legs, their useless coordination at working together irritating Mazien, making you pause pulling away from Lorenzo’s kiss, resting up on your elbows to scold them. 

“I think it’s time Enzo gets his treat and you two take a seat on the bench.” With a press of a heel planting onto each of their chests, the powerful shove tumbles them back off the bed, a look of surprise overcoming them at your sudden strength.

“The fuck-” “when did she get so strong?!” 

Enzo listens to their protests with a smug grin, his lips move, peppering your neck with starved kisses. Of course, his sweet boy antics of worshiping you instead of prioritising himself have paid off in the long run. 

“Stay down there and watch.” The command uttered out of your mouth has them feeling weak, the tone so dominant they feel no other option but to obey. Theo mutters, rolling his eyes irritably, “fottuta stronzata! Why am I being punished for his idiocy?” 

Mattheo scowls at him. “You were equally involved. It was your fat head that bumped mine!” 

Lorenzo lets out a raunchy wolf whistle, his eyes lighting up as you bend, leaning forwards, arching your back and ass up for his pleasure once again. The angle allows you to continue peering down at the two excluded boys in front of you, smirking as you gaze hungrily at their throbbing and erect cocks. Theo and Mattheo quit bickering, watching with sulky eyes, swallowing desperately for a taste they crave now made to wait for. 

“Which hole do you want, Enzo?” 

Enzo’s hands caress your backside, roaming over your heightened skin, putting in the effort to rub his hands captivatingly over the delicacy of your body boasting to the others. His eyes flicker from their pathetic faces, cracking a grin down to the way your body shivers under his teasing touch, unable to believe the alluring view before him. He leans pressing his chest against your back, whispering with a heated hoarse breath, “I wanna fuck that pretty ass of yours.”

Subconsciously you scream, feeling yourself panic, never having experienced anal before, but Mazien only laughs, getting excited about feeling your tight body stretched out by the attractive boy. Relax sweetheart, he’s gonna take such good care of us. 

Mattheo watches with a grumpy and unpleasant expression, groaning with disappointment at the current outcome despite your earlier promise. His fallen face makes you giggle at the trickery and deceptiveness played on the poor boy and you whisper to him, “Patience is a virtue, Matty.” The irony of your words having you mentally scoffing, coming from the sinful lips of the demon in control. Your attention redirects back to Enzo, moaning as you spread your legs for him, allowing him to settle with easier comfort between them. 

He grabs his wand and casts an extra lubricating incarnation, rubbing his thumb, circling it over your hole. Lightly pressing inwards, he applies bit by bit more pressure getting you ready for him. Wet, fervent kisses press urgently to your lower back as he continues to tease before sliding a finger in. The motion stalls your breath, short sharp exhales falling as you moan at the sensation. He grins, thrusting his finger slowly in and out, adding another digit mumbling, “good girl..that’s a good girl gettin ready for me yeah?”

He smirks, biting his lip, his eyes not leaving the way your hole expands and breathes him in, and he gives his cock a quick pump. His composure remains calm and excited, though he’s barely holding it together wanting to get a move on already. He slides his fingers out, gathering your slick along your wet clit, spreading it over his cock before rubbing it against your hole. He goes slow grunting, edging his tip in. 

Moaning at the burning stretch, you smile getting giddy as his length glides slowly but surely bottoming you out. You scream, but it’s only inside your head, never having encountered something so fulfilling before. Feels so good doesn’t it? Wait till we get him, filling us up with his load. 

There’s no air left for you to inhale, your stomach tight with suspense, every nerve prickling with a fiery sensation. Your muscles convulse and you grip the sheets with an iron grip, your eyes rolling back. A deep gasp finally leaves your mouth, staying ajar as you focus on the stimulation of Enzo’s cock inching further in. The sight is mesmerizing for Mattheo and Theo, who gaze with blown pupils, their own hands pumping their cocks. 

“F-fuck mate isnt that the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.” 

“Mi farà venire prima ancora di entrare dentro di leiiii.” Theo responds with a shaky groaning breath, his eyes not leaving your orgasmic face, his lip pulled between his teeth. 

Mattheos brows furrow both from pleasure and confusion, “dude I can’t fucking understand you-”

“Would you two shut up, the both of you are ruining my fuck.” Enzo grits out through his ecstasy. The last thing he needs when pounding your ass is their annoying fucking voices in his head. His grasps on your hips tighten with such intensity he’d break glass if holding it, his hips finally pick up pace continuously sliding in and out of your tight hole. “Fucking hell, you like that pretty girl?” 

He spanks your ass when you struggle to find an answer, and a sprawl of moans mumble tumbling out, blocking your efforts to think. Managing out some small words of affirmation, you answer “Holy shit!! Yes! Oh my god enzooooo.” 

It’s almost like your conscious self is slipping through to express the effect they’re having on you. Four gorgeous lustful eyes watch with parted mouths how your tits swing, bouncing with each thrust, their pretty cocks glistening swollen under the dim lights. 

God, you feel that! He’s going sooooo fast. He’s gonna cum soon. 

Enzo grunts, his head hanging slightly mumbling incoherent words, “fuck..oh yeah hmm.” He lands another smack to your backside, propelling you forwards by the force, your head smashing into the mattress. “godd, look at her. My cock looks so good pushin in your tight hole baby ugh.” His hands lather over your blushing ass and spread your cheeks, getting a clearer look. 

You whine erotically, biting your lip as the breath continues to be knocked out of you. Oh my god! Oh my god! The praise chants are around your mind and Mazien just laughs in response. You’re calling out to Theo before you can register what her plans are. “Theo honey c’mere.” He reacts, standing up quickly, entranced by the desperateness laced in your tone. Eager to escape out of timeout, that was definitely, in his opinion, all Mattheo’s doing. 

“Enzo lay back for a sec,” you pant out to him, sitting up as Theo approaches the side of the bed, your eyes gazing up marveling at the Italian hunk in front of you. Enzo moves, rocking back on his ass with deep restraint, having felt moments away from breaking. What are you doing? Why is Theo joining in already? Relax baby, it’s okay.. you can handle it. 

When you direct Theo to lie in front of you with the flick of your hand, Mattheo is quick to his feet too, protesting, “Wait hey what about me goddamit! Enzo, you’ve been in her enough.” Mattheo growls impatiently like a little brat. He maneuvers around to the side of the bed, shooting daggers at Enzo. 

Enzo gives him an incredulous look, “wait your fucking turn.” 

“I’ve been waiting!” He’s complaining as if you’re not even in the room, “dude just let me fuck.”

Theo, whose only focus is on you and receiving his turn, caresses your body with his touch of dominance, guiding you without a word to hover over him. He grips his cock with shaky breaths, lining it with your entrance, “Gonna fuck you so good tesoro.” A promised whisper for only you to hear. 

While he ignores Mattheo’s childish tantrum, he notices your attention averted and commands with a cool tone of authority. “Eyes on me y/n.” His hands cradle your head with a demanding force, the two of your eyes meeting, and he flashes that charming grin. He licks his lips, guiding your hips to lower, allowing your pussy sinking onto his tip. “That’s it..fuck.”

He rocks his hips up, edging in slowly, feeling the pulsing of your warm walls eagerly attempting to drive him in. Theo fills you completely, offering hoarse praises, “Yeah baby…yeah so good taking it all.” 

His thrusts become more erratic, fucking up into your cunt, making you release loud moans, your hands claw gripping exceedingly at his arms. The sweet movement of your hips roll, riding him as much as you can.Your ass aches at the emptiness while Mattheo and Enzo continue their bickering and a deep, wanton whine releases, alerting Enzo of your desperate need. 

Enzo growls at Mattheo’s bickering, redirecting his cock to slide back inside your ass. “Dude shut the fuck up I’m about to cum.” His voice is strained and broken as he continues his pace. “F-fuccck y/n this ass.” 

Mattheo, though irritated, can’t tear his eyes away from how you’re taking both of them, its pure filth. Your mind is a messy blur under the weight of ecstasy, the filling of both their cocks stuffing you. “Yeah yeah, you like taking both our cocks, baby?” Theo mumbles, groping a hand up at your tits, his other arm tightly wrapped around your waist to help guide you along his length. 

“Yesyesyesyes…oh my god.” Incoherent mumbles slip out amongst your breathless groans. 

Enzo doesn’t last much longer, his head falling, dropping onto your back and with a broken moan he cums. The hot jets of semen spurted deep inside your ass sends a static of power along your body, energizing you and making Mazien squeal. Oh fuck yeah! Fuck this is exactly what I need!

Lorenzo pulls back, resting against the headboard, and watches through lidded eyes as your movements on top of Theo grow quicker and faster. Mattheo, not one to wait around, moves laying down on the bed commanding Theo. “Move her on top of me, Nott.” 

In one swift motion, Theo rolls effortlessly, lifting your body up with the ease of a feather, shifting you on top of Mattheo, letting your ass bottom out once more by his throbbing, aching cock. “Salazar fucking shit-“

You moan at his girth, stretching you out before Theo readjusts himself, finding his comfort back inside your pussy. Mattheo shifts, wrapping an arm around your throat as he whispers in your ear, “fuck- ah - thought you could cast me aside sweetheart?” A low throaty chuckle vibrates against your back and you squirm as Theos pace picks up. “I’m gonna bury Enzo’s cum in you so deep it’s going to be dripping out of you for weeks to come” 

The combination of both their cocks stuffing you make your body quiver, shaking with desire, your hands scraping, gripping Theo’s arms. Mattheo’s hips hardly move, but he doesn’t need to, as just the fulfilling feeling of his cock buried inside your snug ass is making your mind a fuzzy blur. He uses his free hand to play with your tits, squeezing, pinching at the nipple, making your head lean back into the crook of his neck. 

Enzo watches lazily, his mind going in and out of consciousness, feeling drained. He rubs his cock tiredly, enjoying your sweet whimpers as he closes his eyes. Body slick with sweat, the air hot with lust, your eyes squeeze shut tightly, the sensations overwhelming you and you know you’re on the verge of breaking. 

You’re the first to cum for the second time, squeezing and drenching Theo’s cock with an almighty force, your body shakes pressing further down onto Mattheos’ cock and he groans a deep guttural sound in your ear that reaches the depth of your soul.

Theo is next but not without making you experience a new sense of pleasure, leaving a lasting impression as he bends your legs driving hard before he releases staining your stomach in his cum. 

Gasps of panting echo around, and while the real you feels wrecked completely mentally, your body feels alive. It’s thrumming, stimming with sexual energy as it absorbs the large ejaculations of cum. It seeps into your body and you giggle excitedly. Oh god, those boys sure know how to fuck. 

Mattheo’s ears pick up on your too relaxed giggle for someone who was just whimpering from overstimulation and he grabs your waist, thrusting up from underneath you, as the last one left inside you. He reached a hand, rubbing at your clit, needing to make you cum just once, for his ego. “Come on baby..give me my fucking treat.” 

The sensation is so overwhelming, having both Theo and Enzo still watching with greedy carnal eyes as Mattheo makes you fall apart again so quickly, squirting with a high-pitched squeal. Back arched, ass pressed down harder on his cock, you whine moaning, “omg omg omg.” Even Mattheo is struggling to keep his composure and cums shortly afterwards. He gently lifts you off him before pumping his cock, squirting his cum over the curves of your ass. 

The room is hot, filled with the smell of sex and sweat, sin tainted everywhere, as your body lies exhausted on the bed. Dirty, sticky heavenly semen sprayed over your body like art on a canvas. The three boys pant, sharing a look amongst each other at what the hell just happened. 

A crossing of your friendship, their eyes tainted with temptation and lust despite their exhaustion. And yet Mattheo speaks up again, noticing your spent expression as he leans down closer to you. “Don’t think next time you get to stay in charge sweetheart” Fuck again!? Might just have to keep this girl. 

tags: @romantasyreader28 i gotchu bb! also tagging some muts who have been hearing me yap about this for a moment appreciate you all and the sweet sweet support! @amongemeraldclouds (thanks wifey for proof reading!!) @papercorgiworld @leona-hawthorne @mattyriddlesbitch @finalgirllx @thatdammchickennugget @slytherinslut0 (thanks for the vote of confidence pookie!) @sylviaonyx. pretty divider from here. Thank you for reading if you got to the end here!! Appreciate your support!

[protectingpluto]

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.

[protectingpluto]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 28th. theodore nott. lorenzo berkshire — humiliation / degradation

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: never let enzo berkshire find out about one of your kinks. unless….

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, halloween ghostface costumes, threesome, fwb!theo, bestfriend!enzo, reader is involved in a bet unbeknownst to her, mask kink, humiliation on high, degradation, fingering, denied orgasm, oral m!rec, PIV, dirty talk, manipulation.

"Black cat mask?"

You shake your head, barely sparing the thing a glance.

"Mm, no. Too unoriginal."

"Right," Enzo sucks his teeth, tossing the mask back into the bin you're both half-heartedly rifling through. "Orange cat, then? That's far more fitting for you anyways."

"Enzo—no cats, please," you mutter, running a hand through your hair, staring down at the disheveled heap of plastic. None of it catches your eye, none of it sparks anything. "It's Halloween. I want something...scarier."

"Of course. Only day of the year you get to pretend you're as terrifying as me." He croons—half-laughing through the words. The tease itches in your mind, and you're halfway to some retort when he's already holding up another mask. "How about this one?"

You glance up, ready to dismiss whatever nonsense he's holding this time, but the sight of it stills the air in your lungs. A Ghostface mask. Stark white, hollow eyes staring back at you—it's grimace cast in a faded glow under tired shop lights. It's nothing—just a mask, just a piece of cheap plastic in Enzo’s hand—but your heart skips, stumbles, clutches at your ribs, and you can't look away.

And there's no goddamn reason for it, no logic—but you're already seeing it, aren't you? Your current fwb—Theo, standing over you; his face hidden, mask in place of those half-lidded eyes that you’ve learned to read so well. And you know—you know the thought is fucking absurd—yet, it knots something in your stomach, spreading heat like a fuse just lit.

"You alright there?" Enzo's teasing pulls you out of your thoughts, and you realize he'd been staring at you that entire time. "You're looking a little...hot."

Hot. Right. Of course he'd notice—of course your best friend would notice the way you went still, frozen in place as if someone struck you with Glacius. You're no good at lying to him, not even on a good day—and right now, your mind is in shambles, already too far gone into the fantasy and—

No. No more of this.

You tear away, fumbling for the edge of a cloak that suddenly seems like the most fascinating thing you've ever seen, your fingers tracing the fabric as if it can save you.

"It's...fine—it's nice," you blurt out, too quickly, too forced, the words tumbling over themselves. "Just—no, not really my thing."

But Enzo knows better. He can spot your lies from miles away. You hear him shift, the quiet rustle of the mask in his hands—and then, he's pulling it over his face, tilting his head just to spite you.

You don't have to look to know he's smirking behind it.

"Bullshit." He steps closer, casually closing the distance, but you know it's deliberate. "You're into this, aren't you?"

The warmth on your face feels like fire now, prickling heat across your skin. He shifts closer again, and for a moment you consider jinxing him—mind scattering into dark, unbidden places—filthy, wild things, flashing behind your eyes, too real. Enzo tilts his head the other way now, letting the mask catch the light, letting it grin.

"Should I get it?" He asks, as innocent as a serial killer. "For Nott, of course."

"No."

It scrapes out of your throat, barely audible, far too small to hold truth. You’re sure he can read you right now—all your depraved thoughts in the rasp of your voice, painfully transparent.

There’s a huff, a snort of sorts. "Are you sure? I think he'd love it."

Despite his insufferableness, he’s probably right. Theo has never shied away from indulging your kinks before. That’s what no strings is about. Maybe he would love it, you know you certainly would—gods how you’d love it—even if you’d rather die before admitting it.

The cloak—you focus on the deep purple velvet, the dark lace edging. "I'm sure. Put it back."

"You don't sound so sure." Gods, he's such an asshole—point only proved further as he takes another step closer. "Does this...does this turn you on?"

"Enzo—For Godric's sake, stop." The humiliation is suffocating. This is just a glimpse at your future should you ever decide to disclose this information to him. Relentless and bloody insufferable. "Let's just—pick something and go. Please?"

A pause, then, and you don't dare look up. The mask slips from his face with another soft, satisfied hum—you don't need to see him to feel the damage done. He knows.

"Sure, angel," he says, trailing as he turns. "Whatever you want."

————

"Matt—have you seen Theo?"

"Uh—not since earlier." Mattheo replies without even looking up, his focus on pouring another dangerous looking drink rather than on you. "He's probably just out for a smoke."

Yeah. Right. Forsure—because his smoke breaks last all bloody day. Doubt twists your stomach, but you nod anyway, grabbing your own drink—something bubbling, far too bright a green to be safe, but it burns down easy all the same. The room spins in a foggy haze, lights bleeding together over costumes, wizard and Muggle and something in between—and you struggle to tell who's who.

Theo had refused to tell you what he was dressing up as—claimed he wanted it to be a surprise. Now, that surprise is nowhere to be found.

"What are you supposed to be?" You raise a brow at Mattheo's striped inmate costume. “Your future?"

Riddle's eye flash as he pretends to be offended for about two seconds until his gaze drops to your own costume and his tongue darts over his lips, taking it in. Beer-maid, tight bodice, shorter than preferred. It's not what you were going for, not in the slightest, but it's all Pansy had in her closet to save you after you and Enzo failed to find anything interesting at the shop the other day.

"Maybe. But you definitely aren't dressed as yours." His attention shifts back to the crowd, a failed attempt at hiding his grin. "Way too much fabric."

You scoff, but that's just how Mattheo is—always a sly comment, always pushing. You roll your eyes and swat at him, but he sticks his tongue out at you and steps back, slipping off into the crowd with a final goodbye wink—and just as you lose track of him, Draco saddles up next to you, prattling on about something you don't care to listen to.

Great, that’s two annoying Slytherins accounted for. Where the fuck is Theo?

Five seconds into pretending to be interested in whatever Malfoy is babbling on about, you give up, turning back to the drink table and skimming over the options when someone new brushes up behind you—

"Enzo told me," the words barely register before you feel it—a hand settling low at your hip. "About your kink."

With lightening speed you twist your neck, glancing over your shoulder—only to fucking gasp at what you find there. That mask. The mask. The Ghostface one from the shop; the one Enzo hasn't let you forget, hasn't stopped teasing you about—you blink, your heart barrelling out of the room, fingers tightening around your cup until it hurts—

The mask tilts, just slightly. "Looks like he was right."

"Theo—"

"Go." His voice is muffled, but sweet Merlin—the sound of it makes your knees threaten to buckle right then and there. His hand slips lower, teasing against the ruffles of your dress. "Run, Bella. Let's play."

Your body locks up, muscles tense and poised on the edge of something feral. You can't look away. Can't think. Can't breathe. His fingers slip lower, lower, until you feel it—cold leather against the heat of your skin and your throat tightens, words dying dead on your tongue.

Run.

A slight lean, and the mask brushes your neck. "Now."

He steps back, a slow retreat, but it feels like he's tugging you with him. You spin to face him, smirking, your voice barely above a whisper—

"And when you catch me?"

"Find out." His head tilts toward the door. It's your cue.

Your feet move before your mind even catches up, slipping through the rowdy crowd, darting through the half-drunk revelers in their costumes—everything blurring into an afterthought as you push past the cobwebs, pumpkins, fake spiders, all the other Halloween decor filling the fogged ballroom. Your fingertips buzz from the adrenaline—pulse echoing in your ears as you dart down one hall after another, not quite sure where you're going, but knowing you need to keep moving.

Theo told you to run—so you run.

You sprint through the castle, the corridors empty save for your hurried footsteps and the scattered Halloween decorations lunging at you from the shadows. You round a corner, making for the dungeons. It's as good a place as any, right? Dark, quiet, somewhere to hide.

Few more minutes and you make it, lungs burning as you stumble into the dreary main hall. You realize the detention room is empty—and it's perfect. You take two steps inside, already thinking you'll be able to catch your breath when—

You slam headlong into something solid.

Head swirling, your vision barely refocuses before you feel a grip on your wrists, pulling you forward with enough force to make you gasp. Everything happens so fast you don't have enough time to process what's occurring before you're forced to focus on the thing you're seeing—ghostface. Staring down at you with those empty, gaping eyes. Unreadable.

It's then that you realize you're caught.

Something shifts behind the mask, an almost imperceptible movement of his head. You'd almost think you imagined it but given that there's nothing else to look at you know it's impossible. The silence is ballooning and you wonder if this is part of the game, if Theo is just savouring the moment, relishing in your reaction. The way you're trembling, your breath stuttering, the way you've gone still—waiting.

You swallow, throat drier than the Sahara, but something about this has you emboldened, the fact he's playing into your fantasy like this—so you decide to tease him, breaking the silence with a soft, breathless laugh as you pull one of your hands free from his grip.

He wanted to play. It's your turn to act the part.

"Looks like you caught me...Mr. Ghostface..." you purr—the silence sticks heavy, making the space between you feel thick, electric. All you can feel are his eyes devouring you. "And now...now that you've caught me...what are you gonna' do with me...hm?"

Gods—the thrill of this is so real, one your certain is more addictive than any drug. An adrenaline rush—not knowing what he's thinking, what he's about to do. Not being able to read him like you normally could. It makes your thighs quake—and there’s half a second where you wonder how much Enzo would pay to see this, how much he’d fucking taunt you for it.

But just as quickly as it came, you shake that thought—focused on Theo, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth and sink to your knees, fingertips teasing from his chest to his abdomen, tilting your head to look up at him through your lashes.

"...please don't punish me." You giggle—and the debauched absurdity of it all makes you nearly choke. "I'll be so good—I'll do anything, Theo—"

You feel him huff, tense, and when your fingers graze the front of his pants—just barely touching his crotch— his hand snaps down like a vice, gripping your wrist, stopping you dead in your tracks.

And then, you hear it. "Salazar sakes—shit—"

Your heart plummets. That voice—it's like being thrown into ice-cold water. No, that's not—it can't be—

"Enzo?"

Your voice cracks as you all but screech, your head whipping up so fast you feel dizzy. No, no, no—

Enzo, who you previously thought was Theo, pulls the mask off and all but verbally confirms it. Your nightmare born to life. Spooling to fruition right in front of you. He smiles, lips curled into something thoroughly entertained, and gods, how his eyes glint with pure assholery—you could fucking kill him.

"Enzo—" you stammer, horror flushing through you, burning through the mortification lodged in your throat. "Gods—what the fuck—"

"Surprise," he breathes, like this is the most casual thing in the world to him.

You scramble back, knees scraping against cold stone—mind spiralling in every direction at once—shame collides with shock and it all burns under your skin, the kind of heat that never settles. You know Theo's voice. You could never mistake it. You know for a fact that was him back at the party— but this, this makes no sense.

"What...what the hell-" your voice stumbles like you're trying to outrun the words. "Why would you—what were you—"

"Relax," he is all too fucking calm. "It was a prank."

"A prank?" You're still on the floor, and for some reason that makes everything worse. "You call that a prank? A—a funny little joke?"

"That's usually the definition—"

"No." You hiss between clenched teeth, anger strangling any hope for composure. "What were you doing in here? This— this isn't—you were trying to-"

"Trying to what?" He sounds so goddamn innocent but you know better. He's toying with you, making sure you know it. He's been your best friend since you were kids but you never said it was by choice. He steps closer. "I was trying to what, angel?"

Your blood boils, the heat spreading fast—pooling low in your core against all specks of your sanity. He's relishing this, drinking in your mortification like it's fine wine—and for some reason, it makes you weak.

"You—" words die with another one of his steps, the toes of his shoes brushing against your skin as he crouches down in front of you, elbows resting casually on his knees. You sit back, ass meeting cold stone. "Enzo—"

"Yeah?" He cocks an eyebrow. "You just gonna' parrot my name all night? Maybe you're too embarrassed to speak?"

The constant mocking feels like ice and you want to slap that smug look right off his face but instead your fucking thighs tense. You have nothing to say—can only stare at him, lungs seizing further as you notice the smirk fading from his lips, something darker replacing it—

"You didn't even know who was under that mask, and you were ready to suck me off," he's whispering, but he may as well be screaming. "You'd do anything for anyone with a mask, huh? I wish I knew about this kink of yours sooner."

He leans in closer, his knees pushing yours apart—you and Enzo had never been strangers to toying the line of friendship one too many times while drunk, but this—

You blink. Staring at him. "You...you're enjoying this way too much."

"Guilty as charged." His smile spreads wider, cockier, his eyes dipping to your lips, then lower. You shiver involuntarily. "I know I should have stopped you sooner, but seeing you on your knees...in front of me...I just..."

He shakes his head before he slowly stands back up—and his eyes flicker to your chest, lingering on your fucking tits and not even trying to be subtle about it.

Then, there’s a sound—the sound of the door creaking open.

You barely hear it, the faint shuffle of footsteps, but it's enough to pull the grin from Enzo's face as he looks up. You're not sure your heart can handle anymore of this—plummeting to the stone beneath you as Theo steps into the room, dressed just like Enzo—black robes, black gloves, Ghostface mask.

"Nott." Enzo's voice is too casual, too easy. "Great timing, mate."

Theo’s silent as he takes in the scene. You—still on the floor, dress hitched up, legs spread. Enzo standing over you, smug, unbothered. Theo's presence fills the room as he shuts the door behind him and locks it, stoking your humiliation into something even hotter, something impossible to escape.

Theo's voice is flat, his tone too even. "Looks like you got caught."

Wait—

"You—" your gaze jumps between them, a wild panic bubbling up inside you. You're so fucking confused. "What is this? You two—"

"Like I said, a prank." Enzo says as he steps toward Theo, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "A bet, really.”

Theo doesn't respond. He doesn't move. He doesn't look away from you.

"A bet?" You choke out, trying to piece everything together. "What bet?"

"Well, you see, angel," Enzo pushes away from Theo and slumps down into a chair just off to the side of you. You feel the dread rolling in like a storm. "I bet big Theo here you'd get so weak in the knees over the mask, you wouldn't even notice the switch. As usual, I was right."

Andddd, there’s the dread. Yup. As expected whenever Enzo is fucking involved in anything.

"Oh, wow—" you'd laugh if you weren't this utterly mortified by the entire situation. "You guys are—gods. You’re going after a whole new high score in the prick olympics, aren't you—"

"Oh, I don't know if you believe that, topolina...I think you're just being shy." Theo cuts through your rambling and you flinch at the sound of his voice. "It's clear this is a fantasy of yours."

Your head tilts up, eyes widening as they meet the empty, hollow eyes of the mask drawing closer.

"I bet you're just embarrassed," Theo's pressing—he's fucking pressing and you don’t think you’ve breathed since he walked in. "Embarrassed that you got on your knees for your best friend...or maybe you're afraid I'd be mad." He pauses, and his gaze sweeps down over you. "Which, to that I'd have to say, I'm far from."

You swallow hard, your mouth dry. "You're...you're not mad?"

Perhaps you were afraid of that—even if you and Theo are unofficial in every aspect.

His answer is instant. "No."

He crouches in front of you, gloved fingers finding your chin, tipping your head up so he can look at you— really look at you.

"In fact...I think you should let him watch..." his thumb ghosts over your lower lip, so soft, so slow—without thinking, your tongue flicks out, barely grazing the leather covered tip, and you hear the soft exhale he releases in response. "After all, this was his idea. He deserves some fun too, don't you think?"

Heat floods your cunt, your stomach tightening at the suggestion. You glance at Enzo, sitting back now with his mask on—legs spread wide, leather hands clasped, calm—you wanted to kill him five minutes ago, but now—

Oh gods—you're really losing it.

"Yeah," you whisper, barely managing the word. "He probably does."

Theo's hand slides down to your thigh, leather fingers curling into the soft skin, pulling your legs open further.

"Mhm." He mutters. "You like being watched, don't you?"

Your breath catches, your pulse thundering in your ears as you nod, your eyes glued to Enzo. "Yes..."

"Say it." His fingers trail higher, teasing the soft skin beneath your dress, fingertips grazing closer—too close—just below the lace hem of your panties.

Salazar save you.

You bite your lip, and the air between you feels like it's thickening, growing too dense to breathe in. That fucking mask. You've fantasized over it. And now, there's two of them. Two sets of eyes—faceless, emotionless, and watching you. It's like something out of your fucking dreams.

"I—I like being watched," you manage to whisper, voice breaking between building lust.

"Louder," Theo growls this time like he's pulling it from somewhere deep in his chest—it sends liquid heat spilling through you. "Louder, topolina. He can't hear you if you're whispering."

Your heart stutters in your chest, and Enzo—gods, Enzo is still watching—stays silent, the mask concealing whatever reaction he might have, but his posture speaks volumes. Stillness, dark fabric of his trousers tight across his thighs, a coiled tension that radiates off him, permeates the space between you.

"I—fuck—" a breathless moan cracks through your words as Theo's leather-clad fingers slip under your panties, grazing your slick slit. "—love it. I love being watched."

Theo hums, the sound vibrating low in his throat, and rewards you by pushing two fingers into your dripping heat. So slow, the pace of his strokes torturous—slick sounds of leather working you open filling the room, mingling with your quiet, shuddering breaths. His thumb brushes your clit, teasing over it until you moan—hard and shameless—

"So loud," Theo mocks, your spine arching into him as his fingers curl inside you. "Eager, filthy little thing. You love being on display, don't you?"

A whimper catches in your throat, your gaze still locked on Enzo, watching him watch you.

You're shaking. You're close. Too close.

Your voice cracks again, nothing more than a whisper caught in a moan. "Theo...fuck—"

"You're so wet, bellissima," Theo breathes behind the mask. You're burning, every nerve sizzling. "You want to cum, don't you?"

You can't speak. Words don't exist anymore, only the pressure—only the way Theo's fingers curl inside you, the way your thighs tremble and ache from holding yourself open, from being watched, from being this goddamn humiliated.

"Y-yes," you choke out, desperate. "Yes, please, I—"

"Ask him." Theo's cuts you off. "Ask Enzo to let you cum."

The room spins. The air thickens into something cloying.

Ask him. Ask Enzo—

You swallow hard, your eyes darting between the two masks. Enzo is silent, still motionless, but he tilts his head slightly, the only indication that he's heard. That he's waiting.

"Please, Enzo—" the humiliation is sickening but you force past it. It’s a broken prayer, vulnerability in verbal form. "Please...let me cum—please—"

Time stretches. It feels like hours, an eternity where nothing exists but the weight of their hidden eyes on you, the way Enzo's fingers twitch, curl over the thick ridge at his crotch, leather knuckles tensing as if he's restraining himself from something primal. You're being devoured whole by this moment—by the unbearable tension, by Theo's fingers inside you, relentless in their assault, and gods—you're going to die if they don't let you—

"Yeah," Enzo finally murmurs, breaking the silence. Theo's gaze flickers to him, waiting. "Yeah, you can cum, angel…”

But as he says it, he shakes his head, and Theo—the absolute bastard—pulls his fingers out without a word.

"…just not yet." Enzo finishes.

The sound that leaves your throat isn't even human, some guttural, helpless whine torn straight from your throbbing, empty cunt. Theo shushes you.

"You'll get to cum, Bella," he coos, standing up slowly. "It'll be soon."

They're toying with you, playing you like a goddamn puppet on strings and it's infuriating in its deliciousness. You've known these men for years, yet it's almost laughable—the way they feel so foreign, so terrifyingly new.

"Oh, Enzo," you sigh, feeling your arousal cool, your body suddenly aware of the icy stone beneath you, of the wet heat slicking down your thighs. "I'm going to kill you tomorrow."

Enzo snorts. "You're welcome to try."

Theo exhales a half-chuckle, helping you off the floor and onto a desk, his hands firm on your thighs as he spreads you open like he's done a hundred times within the last few months.

A moment passes before he moves to loosen his belt and you realize just how close Enzo is now—his chair right beside the desk, his hand palming the bulge in his pants, shameless in his observation. The sight makes you fucking dizzy with filth. Surely, you've lost your mind. This is madness. Every line between friendship and lust—between restraint and indulgence—has blurred and bled into something you can't define, and the thrill of it is intoxicating.

"This is insane," you hiss, breathless, feeling the way Theo's gloves scrape over your skin, two thick digits dragging in your slick. "You're both fucking insane."

"Too much talking," Theo mutters, so infuriatingly calm, even as he drags the head of his dick over your folds, teasing your clit. "So much attitude for someone dripping down their thighs. You want to stop?" The silence stretches, your eyes locked on his, and you can feel the smirk behind the mask. He nods. "That's what I thought. Now shut up and let me fuck this wet cunt."

His hands grip either side of the desk, his body looming over you—the scene from your fantasy you've envisioned a million times. Ghostface—dominant and rough—gods, you want it. So bad it fucking hurts.

Your head lolls to the side, eyes immediately finding Enzo's again—forgetting for half a second that he was even there. His jeans are unbuttoned now, his hand moving rhythmically beneath the denim, mask locked onto you with a single-minded focus that makes your breath stutter.

"Enz-ohhh—" you go to say something to him, but then Theo pushes into you—no warning, no slow build—just a deep, unforgiving thrust that knocks the breath from your lungs, and your voice cracks on his name, the syllables lost in the moan that spills out of you.

"Shit." Enzo groans in response. "Did you just—"

"She did," Theo snarls, his grip on your hips punishing as he slams into you again, harder this time. "The little slut just moaned your name."

There's cursing, from both of them, but it's all a blur in your ears, drowned out by the sound of Theo's hips slamming into yours, the fevered slap of skin on skin, the obscene sounds you can't help but make—

"Yeah, I noticed," Enzo mutters, and fuck, he sounds ruined, completely lost in the sight of you—his best friend, getting fucked by his other best friend. "Fuck."

Theo's hand finds your jaw, forcing your head back to face him, Ghostface mask looming above you like a delicious nightmare.

"Who's fucking you?" His voice is caught somewhere between a snarl and a purr. "Is it Enzo?"

"N-no—" you manage, trembling with every thrust.

"Of course it's not," Theo hisses, driving into you with punctual thrusts to make you feel him, making you cry out when he slams your cervix. "So why'd you moan his name? When it's—fuck—my cock inside you?"

"I—I didn't mean—" you whimper, eyes squeezed shut, but there's no escape. Not from the relentless pace of Theo's dick, not from the way Enzo's eyes never leave you, burning into you like fire. You can't form words.

"Mm—don't be shy now, topolina," Theo purrs, his voice thick with effort. His hips snap forward, and your back arches, a broken sound escaping you. "I think you just love having him in your mouth—his name, his—"

"Fuck, Nott, shut up," Enzo cuts in, his head thrown back, chest tense. "I don't want to hear your voice—"

You can hear the strain, the way he's barely holding it together—

"Look at him," Theo ignores Enzo's words. He lets go of your jaw. "He wants you. He's always wanted you."

Your eyes dart between them, head spinning, unable to form a coherent thought—Theo's fucking relentless, pushing you closer and closer to the edge—and every time you glance at Enzo, you see the way he's breaking, hand moving faster, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths—

"I never knew you were such a voyeur, Nott," Enzo spits, trying to sound casual. "Never took you for being such a filthy bastard."

"What can I say?" Theo groans in response, propping your legs up over his shoulders to drive into you deeper. "Just discovered a new interest, you should try it sometime."

They're still bantering, like this is some kind of fucked-up competition, like you're not about to shatter into a million fucking pieces while your best friend watches—after he got you here and humiliated you with a fucking bet—gods, you'd laugh if you weren't so utterly lost to the pleasure ripping through you.

"And watch you get off on it?" Enzo spits back, voice rough. "I'll—"

Theo snorts, cutting him off. "I think there's more than one person getting off on—"

"Shut the-fffuck up—please-" you manage to moan, the words barely intelligible. You look to Enzo, eyes wide and pleading. "Enz...come here."

"Yeah...?" Enzo breathes out, his voice catching, tipping his head back forward to look at you. “What?”

"Come here," you moan again, trembling, fraying under the pleasure that's building inside you from Theo’s insistent dick. "Let me help you."

For a moment, he hesitates, and you can’t tell what he’s thinking because the goddamn mask hides everything. He's always been the calm one between you—always stopping your drunk kisses, always refraining from taking things too far. But tonight, there’s no more of that calm left in him—

He stands.

Each step he takes feels like a lifetime, but when he's standing next to your head on the desk, towering above where you're laid out like a feast, you don't know whether it's the mask or the situation itself that has your pulse racing. Erotic and terrifying, the not-knowing—a power exchange in its purest form. Theo growls infront of you, his thrusts growing harder, more vicious, as you reach out to pull Enzo's hips closer.

You're already eyeing the throbbing bulge in his jeans, your mouth practically watering as you stare.

"Go on," you rasp, lips parting as you look up through your lashes. "Take it out."

The breath Enzo sucks in is sharp, a hitch in the darkness. His fingers tremble, just barely, as he pushes his pants down his thighs, and the noise that escapes him when his cock slips out and smacks his stomach—low, strangled—makes you moan and clench in response—he's huge.

Your breath catches, a soft exhale of, "oh, fuck."

And the words are barely out of your mouth before both Theo and Enzo respond—low growls and breathless groans that echo in the shadowed room, vibrating through you like electricity.

"Open your pretty mouth," Enzo whispers and you obey without hesitation, tongue slipping out, wanting, eager. His breath shudders, and you wish you could see his eyes. "Good girl."

And then he's pushing into you, sliding hot and thick over your tongue, and at that exact moment, Theo thrusts harder, deeper, and suddenly you're overwhelmed—both of them inside you, filling you, consuming every breath. Moans ripple through the dungeon air, a chorus of sin, and you shake with the sheer intensity of it all.

Theo's thumb finds your clit, starts swirling over it, and you keen—eyes rolling back in your head, Enzo’s leather hands in your hair to hold you still. Tears stream down your face as you gag, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth, but neither of them stop—if anything, they're both lost in it, in the wrecked, messy beauty of it all. Your hands claw at the desk, desperate for something to hold on to as the pleasure builds, tightens, spirals out of control.

Time collapses. It's been moments—it's been hours.

And then it happens—all three of you tipping over the edge at once, crashing into a release so fierce it shatters you. Your climax rips through you, violent, leaving you shaking, milking Theo until he's spent—until he's pouring his cum deep inside your cunt at the same time Enzo groans deep and spills his own over your tongue. A moment passes, and then Theo is the first to pull away, panting, tearing off his mask and dropping into the chair beside the desk, and Enzo follows, tugging his jeans back up before slumping into another chair, mask still on—

Both of them are sprawled there, utterly spent, just as wrecked as you.

And then, after a few long, tense moments, you hear it—the clink of Galleons exchanged. You don't even need to look up for it to register. Theo tosses the coins into Enzo’s greedy palm because he was the true fucking winner here. The sound cuts through the stillness, and with it, that smug, unmistakable sneer in Enzo's voice.

"Told you she'd love it."

Asshole.

You roll your eyes. Your limbs feel like they're moving through molasses as you stand, your hands mechanically fixing your costume, adjusting the fabric against your thighs.

"You know, Enzo, if you wanted to watch Theo fuck me that bad, all you had to do was ask."

"What can I say," he shrugs, lazy, like he's discussing the weather. "I enjoy a bit of gambling."

Theo snorts, adjusting his collar, as if none of this fazes him. His eyes flick from you to Enzo. "Next time you'll be paying me."

"Next time?" You cock an eyebrow. "How generous of you."

"There will be a next time," Enzo says, flipping one of the Galleons between his fingers, that same smirk playing on his lips. "And I'll get my turn."

Your pulse quickens at the sheer arrogance of it, the way he says it like it's not even up for debate. You hate how much you like this side of him.

"Maybe next time you should."

They nod, both of them wearing their smirks like crowns. "Until next time, then."

[protectingpluto]

1,2,3,4 i declare a finger war

pairing. brother's bsf! theo x reader

content/mdni. brother’s bsf! theo, fem! reader, bratty! reader, choking, fingering, edging, (slight) brat taming, degradation, enemies-to-lovers tension, dom! theo, manhandling, allusion to overstimulation, light restraints, power play, humiliation, dirty talk, slight dacryphilia, praise (condescending), pet names (condescending), smut with little plot word count. 1.6k

a/n. the little drabble from the poll ✨ it has nothing to do with my big theo fic! you can read it as a standalone. let me know what you think! 💖

ever since you’ve learnt what the middle finger meant, you’ve been shoving it in theo nott’s face every chance you got. be it behind your brother’s back — mostly in your early childhood —  or up front, the middle finger has substituted the classic wave when it came to ‘greeting’ theo.

now, you weren’t doing that out of your own accord.

no.

rather, theo was the first one who refused to greet you like a normal human being.

a snot-nosed brat like you is not deserving of his kindness, he would always say, pushing you away from his face and threatening to snap your middle finger in half.

mattheo never intervened between the two of you; in his eyes it was all just playful banter. it was also quite funny to see the two of you practically wrestling one another, each pressing middle fingers into the other’s skin to assert dominance.

neither of you would have expected to end up like this one day though.

you, almost naked, spread open across theo’s lap, with your well-known middle finger slowly pumping into your cunt.

guided by theo’s larger hand.

his legs were curled around your ankles, stopping you from clamping your thighs around your joined arms. his other hand was latched around your throat, fingers gripping underneath your jaw and redirecting your stupid face down to your needy pussy.

“is this what you wanted, huh, brat?” he grunted in your ear, his hot breath fanning against your skin.

theo was angry, that was for certain, and it was allll your fault.

you fucked around and found out that his stupid threats of sticking your finger up where the sun doesn’t shine were actually true.

you also made the mistake of underestimating theo and his strength, challenging him like you did when you were little. unfortunately for you, theo was now a strong young man who easily managed to fold your body as he pleases.

and there you were, fully trapped by him, each and every movement of yours being controlled by his hands.

his current task? keeping your fidgety eyes on the steady movement of his hand. so, forcing you to lower your gaze, your eyes now observed the way his long and sturdy fingers were guiding your shorter middle finger in and out of your tight hole.

each thrust of his was agonizingly sluggish, yet it made you wetter and wetter, more of your arousal oozing out, staining your inner thighs and both of your hands in the process.

what a slut you were.

“take in the consequences of your actions.”

you were literally taking them in, at a tortuously slow pace.

your hand was twitching in his, eager to add more fingers into your cunt, or at least to speed up the rhythm of your middle finger. but no, theo had to teach you a lesson about flipping him off so arrogantly all the time; and that meant using that exact finger of yours to torture you to death.

“you’re so fucking wet, bloody hell!”

theo was shocked by how drenched you were from something that could barely be considered fingering. he has been taunting your poor pussy for a while, yes, but your body reacted like it has been edged for hours. what could have possibly made you respond so well to him?

oh.

“you like being degraded, huh? hearing me call you a dirty slut turns you on?”

you could feel theo smirking against your face, his lips curling upwards right against your cheek. he was so close, yet you didn’t dare turn around; the pressure of his fingers against your throat was too strong to be defied. he was definitely leaving big circular bruises from how hard he was digging into your skin.

that made more arousal pool in your stomach.

theo should have realized sooner what a nasty girl you were. you like being degraded — your long gasp of pleasure was a clear signal that he guessed it right.

and you were in luck! he loves humiliating you at every step. he might as well take advantage of that, no?

“is this how you usually do it, hm? finger-fucking this greedy pussy with your small fingers?”

forcefully turning your face towards his, the image of your weeping cunt was changed to a closer view of theo’s blown out pupils and grinning lips. he was indeed enjoying himself, having the time of his life subduing you and your bratty attitude.

“faster...”

you managed to bite back, throwing at him a defiant half-smile.

a part of you was begging for it, so overwhelmed with need that release was your only goal. another part of you, however, was still sticking to your rebellious self, striving to regain control and command theo around.

no matter the reasoning behind it, your hand already stiffened against his grip, expecting a serious increase in speed.

too bad theo didn’t think the same.

“you don’t deserve it, baby.”

such a sweet pet name for such malicious words.

simply hearing his cruel verdict made you whine in agony, your entire dream shattered by his refusal. your eyes began to flood with tears when theo ceased the thrusts of your hand completely, removing your finger with a wet squelch from your hole.

nononononononono.

there was no point in trying to plunge your finger back against his will, as theo caged your entire hand in his own, blocking any sort of friction with your poor cunt.

“why–why–why– i hate you so much– ugh–”

tears rapidly spilled from your eyes from frustration, your lips crushing one another into a pout. you looked so devastated, it almost made theo feel bad. almost.

he knew better than to fall for your cheap tricks.

“you think i give a fuck? oh, you’re so dumb.”

you started trashing against his hold, trying to escape the entailment of limbs theo had trapped you in, cussing at him the best you could.

the ache between your legs turned unbearable, and the strong squeeze of his hand against yours, gatekeeping any sort of release, only made you more restless.

“i will finger myself then.”

allowing theo to do as he pleases with your dominant hand, you made use of your spare hand to resume your prior engagement. it was a bit sloppy to finger yourself with your other hand, but you would do anything to defy theo and get that sweet sweet orgasm.

he did not like that.

“behave.”

one word of his and a harsh tug against your throat made your bratty outburst stop. any possible whiny remarks were cut of by his fingers tightening against your airpipe, silencing you for good. your free hand immediately jumped away from your pussy, reaching towards your neck to lessen the pressure on your throat.

you looked so cute like that: wide-eyed, tear-stained, gasping for air.

a quiet mouth that doesn’t bitch about anything.

a stray tear made its way down across your cheek, your eyes swelling with a new wave of tears. was it the actual lack of air or was it his behaviour that made you react like this? perhaps a combination of both.

then what about your needy pussy getting wetter?

“you wanna cum, baby?”

the glint is his eyes told you he was planning something terrible. but the painful throb of need told you he was the only way to orgasm.

the compression on your throat only allowed you to nod, so that’s what you did. eagerly bobbing your head up and down, you offered theo a clear answer.

“ah– th–o–…”

the sudden feeling of his own calloused fingers on your cunt made you moan out loud, half his name rolling deliciously out of your mouth at the slightest contact of his digits with your desperate little hole. just feeling him press against the exterior of your entrance made you dizzy with lust.

“pathetic slut.”

he could see the way you so easily became putty to his touch. and, shit, if it wasn’t a sight to behold. he would memorize the way your entire face was washed over with relief, your tears practically vanishing from your face in an instant; if it weren’t for your red eyes, he could have sworn you never cried.

“i will finger this dirty cunt with my fingers…”

loosening slightly his grasp on your neck, theo allowed you to form full words again.

“yesyesye–”

his middle finger prodded at your entrance, slowly dipping into your cunt up until his first knuckle. his digit was thicker and longer than yours, so the stretch of your warm walls felt so much better with this second intrusion.

even if he was just one knuckle deep.

“but...”

pressing his forehead against the side of your face, theo was gathering up his thoughts to create a condition for you. to torture you more and more.

“yes– plue–ease, theo. anything, please.”

he groaned loudly at your pleas, vibrations running across your tear-stained cheeks, down along your spine.

your sweet desperate voice shot straight to his cock and made him twitch in his pants, his hips buckling into your ass automatically. his arm strained against your leg, veins protruding against his skin from the tension; he was trying his best to not throw you on the bed and fuck you.

self-control, self-control, self-control–

you never say please. never. so for you to do that now?

self-cont–... fuckkk.

if he wanted to impose a condition on you before, he now had no willpower to do so.

“you’re impossible, really.”

you really had each other wrapped around the middle finger.

you threw your head back against his shoulder when theo finally inserted his entire finger. and when he started moving it at a nice even speed, curling his finger into that sweet spot of yours that you barely reach with your fingers— you saw stars.

“oh my god– ish so good.”

and that was only one finger.

“shit, baby, you needed this.”

digging his fingers into your throat again, theo moved your head away from his shoulder and redirected your attention back between your legs, to his hand. hand which was now carefully working in a second finger.

“how many fingers on a hand, pretty?” he asked, now pumping two digits into your pussy.

“f–five.”

“three more to go then.”

tags: @cafechichay, @downbad4reid

[protectingpluto]

caught red-handed (and rock hard)

synopsis. when theo sneaks into your room looking for a charger, he finds something way more interesting — your provocative polaroids. caught in the act, he might as well make the best of it. one thing leads to another, and suddenly, you're both tangled in a mess of teasing, dirty words, and desperate grinding. if you thought he was only good at pissing you off, well… think again.

pairing. brother’s bsf! theodore nott x reader

content/mdni. fem!reader, brother’s best friend!theo nott, dry-humping, enemies-to-lovers tension, degradation & teasing, slight praise (but mostly just theo being a cocky bastard), tit worship (theo is OBSESSED), rough sex, unprotected (wrap it before you tap it tho!!), dirty talk, name-calling (bella, slut, amore), overstimulation & slight dumbification (?), theo begging because he’s down BAD, messy, desperate, absolutely filthy

word count. 3.2k

a/n. first time writing! english is not my first language, so sorry for that! special thanks to my lovely ari (@nottsangel) for encouraging me to write and for making my (horny) gears turn in my head with her sexy blog! <3

more brother's bsf! theo

“stop moving, jackass!” theo hissed, tightening the grasp on mattheo’s limp arm around his shoulders to steady his body. “where the fuck are your keys, mate?” he mumbled again, digging his other hand deeper in mattheo’s front pockets. it was just his luck that mattheo drank himself dumb and, as the ever-caring friend he was, theo had to drag him back to his house.

“hic­– dig a little lower, sweetheart, and you will find the treasure itsel—” mattheo started seductively, and it was clear he was completely gone out of this world. whatever fantasy he was living right now, theo was having none of it. a nice and hard step on his shoe made mattheo frown and moan in pain, his dreams shattered. it also made the key to the front door magically slip into theo’s hand.

finally, he could leave this fool and go to his own place in peace.

luckily for theo, it seemed that you were nowhere to be found. probably out at a party, just like the two of them were minutes ago, perhaps drunk out of your mind, or possibly already snoozing on one of your friend’s couch, already blacked-out. not that he cared what your situation was, really.

dropping mattheo’s heavy body on his bed, theodore contemplated helping him out of his clothes, but when mattheo started calling him sweetheart again and threatening him with a good time, he swiftly stepped away from the bed.

“where’s your charger, mate?” he asked, more or less to himself, aware that his bloke of a friend was too drunk to answer him. looking around his cluttered desk and messy carpet, theo searched for any sign of a cable, but nothing of the sorts was to be found.

that stuck-up brat might have one, he thought, and that’s how theo found his way to your room. he knew the path like the back of his hand, and even after the few drinks he had, his stride was confident and unwavering. he has been there on multiple occasions, mostly running little errands for your lazy brother, yet he also beelined for your room on those days when he wanted to pour his frustration out on a seemingly innocent victim. seemingly, as you also do your best — or worst, in that case — to annoy the shit out of nott every time he stopped by your house.

“she’s definitely out.” he sighed as he sneaked into your room, door immediately bumping into a pile of clothes you’ve left on the floor while picking the perfect outfit for your outing.

the familiar aroma of your perfume entered his nostrils at a similarly fast rate, and he inhaled in deeply without even a second thought. he always loved the way you smell, and it pissed him the fuck off. it was sweet, but not too sweet; it was mature, erotic — yet not too vulgar; it was a mystery to him why he found himself attracted to your fragrance every time he registered it.

“looks like someone will have the surprise of their life.”

theo chuckled as he zeroed into the garments on the bed, three sets of bras all scattered aimlessly all over the sheets. no bra, something you usually do, and something theo can’t help but appreciate. be it your own comfort or simply your disregard for external opinions, he was glad you ditched bras on a daily basis. indeed, you make his blood boil with your bitchy remarks and spoiled attitude, but the sight of your freed tits under whatever excuse of a shirt you choose that day instantly rewires and redirects that blood lower and lower to his cock.

too bad he won’t see you tonight.

“charger.” he promptly reminds himself as he redirected his attention to your desk, full with opened make-ups and all sorts of products. messy just like her brother. and, by the looks of it, charge-less just like him. such a big desk, yet no charger for poor theodore’s phone. he was already on enemy territory, so he might as well check your drawers for it, just in case.

holy fucking shit.

no charger in your top drawer, but something even better. something he would have never imagine stumbling upon while searching for a mere cable.

very suggestive polaroid pictures. of you. in lingerie.

they were nicely stacked in the very far corner of the drawer, almost like your basic game cards. but nothing about them was basic­– fuck, you looked so pretty, and so hot in them. even under the shitty light of the lamppost outside your window.

theo didn’t think twice and immediately turned on the colorful lamp on your desk, the glossy finish of the polaroids now displayed under a soft pink light.

you were so radiant, so confident, and with each and every picture he uncovered, he was sure it was all a dream he’s having while passed out at enzo’s house. he can’t get this lucky on a random wednesday like this.

oh, but he was about to get even luckier, as he finally arrived at the section where you started taking some of your garments off. the view of your bare tits, barely cupped by your palms, pushed forward into the camera lens, made theo let out a needy groan. and, as if the universe was listening to his thoughts, the next one was an even closer shot of the same position, red lips and soft boobs filling the whole picture frame.

if he thought about stealing a couple of the other ones before, he was for sure taking this one and putting it in his wallet.

his fingers gripped the edge of the polaroid tightly, and all he could think about was seeing such a view live. to have your perfect tits in his hands, to cup and squeeze and push them together. to leave wet kisses all over your skin, to place a big bite right on your sternum, to bury his face between them. shit, to put his cock between them as you let him tit fuck you like the slut that you are. maybe you’d actually be nice to him for once. and even if you’re not, he’d just have to push your red lips down hi–

“what the fuck?”

your voice hit him like a truck. the entire lewd image of you completely vanished from his mind, now seeing anger wash all over your figure as you stepped into your room. he registered your voice first, then your perfume, slightly mixed with cigarette smoke, and lastly, your skimpy little outfit.

no bra, just as he deduced.

“the fuck are you doing, nott?” you asked, and in that moment he realized – you caught him.

not only did he break into your room — initially for a very reasonable motive, a charger, but he also rummaged through your stuff, stopping at your personal pictures and acting like a pervert. “have you lost your mind?” it was obvious you were mad; you stomped in your heels all the way to your desk, crushing all your pile of clothes under furious steps. just as you reached your hand to yank the polaroid picture out of his hand, theo beat you to it and raised it so high up, even your shoes did nothing to help you.

“you always posing like a little slut, bella?” he might have been caught red-handed, but he wasn’t the only one: theo caught you too. yeah, you were in no shape or form a prude, yet these polaroids were something even for you. such scandalous pictures, and, unfortunately for you, he now knew about them.

“you always dry-humping desks, nott?” there it was, that smart mouth of yours; always ready with a retort.

you hit the nail on the head with this one, pointing out something he has been doing unconsciously ever since he found your cute pictures. heck, his tent was still pressing against the edge of the desk, offering him some sort of pressure on his aching hardness.

“matty has a desk like this too. go live your depraved wood fantasy in his room.” you scrunched up your nose, disgusted by his behavior, and pointed at the door with your manicured nails. the nice coat of red on your fingernails were the same shade as the ones in the polaroid, and he was now yet again thinking of the way the meaty flesh of your tits spilled between your fingers.

“but i keep the pic–”

“no way.”

“then i am not leaving.”

you visibly scoffed at his refusal, arms crossing over your chest, hips bumping into the edge of your desk. “give me the picture, you, asshole!” you shouted, banging one of your hands against the desk, shaking the polaroids theo has been placing on it for the past few minutes. “give it back and get the fuck out of here!”

oh, if only you could see yourself right now. you were indeed full of rage, throwing daggers at him with your venomous gaze, but you looked so attractive. there was something about the way your hips were resting against the desk, the roundness of your body nicely elevated by the short skirt you were wearing. and your chest, oh lord, your tits were so tightly enclosed in that stretchy tube top, he could see why you decided against wearing a bra. your make-up was a little smudged, but he was glad to see the familiar red shade on your lips.

“get it yourself, slut.” and with that, theo pinched the collar of his shirt and dropped the polaroid down his clothes. did it stop around his torso? did it dip down into his pants? the only way to found out was for you to start exploring.

“you crazy bastard.” now you were fuming.

without wasting any time, you removed yourself from the desk and, putting all your strength into your arms, you pushed nott alll the way to your bed. “don’t move.” you ordered in a serious tone the moment he was seated at the edge of the bed; rebellious theodore nott would never listen to your whiny little commands though, so, of course, he tried to stand from his seat.

“are you stupid, nott?” and with that you pushed him all the way down onto his back, nicely seating your own body straight onto his lap. “don’t do that shit again or i am sitting on you face next.”

“don’t threaten me with a good time, amore.” he had to bite back with that cocky smile of his, but he did not in fact move an inch again.

why would he, when he had you where he wanted you: straddling him, your ass on top of his hard cock, your wandering hands all over his torso, searching for that polaroid, your chest so conveniently close to his face. you were so caught up in your little detective play, you didn’t even feel nott’s warm hands leaving the sheets, sneaking underneath your skirt, and cupping the fat of your ass.

a moan escaped his lips when his nimble hands found your clothed cunt, one of his fingers slowly sliding underneath your thong, lifting it, then letting it slap back against your skin. the sudden action made you jolt on top of him, and the added friction of your body moving on him made his own hips jump upwards. gripping your ass tighter, theo manhandled your hips to his wants, slowly rutting into you at a steady pace.

“no, no– ah–” catching onto what he was doing, you stilled your wandering hands. one of them moved right on top of theo’s, a silent protest for him to stop his teasing and let you be. “d­–don’t do that.” but you couldn’t lie to him, not after you whined so loudly at the contact of his bulge with your needy pussy.

“can’t work with a little distraction, hm?” god, he was so mean, mocking you with his usual arrogant tone like he wasn’t affected as well by the whole thing. “you seem to like it though, your hips are moving against me.” and it was true; your hips were subconsciously matching his rhythm, riding his tent at a similar pace, meeting his thrusts with enthusiasm. your poor clit was already so hard from him dry-humping you, and the rough material of his pants felt amazing with every tiny bumping.

“shut it, desk-pervert.”

“will you stop with the bloody desk? it was your pictures that made me rock hard.”

“you shouldn’t have seen them in the first place.” you were so so mean. you mean to say that he wasn’t meant to see your beautiful breasts in their naked glory? he must have heard it wrong, there was no way you’d say that. you were cruel, but not a monster.

“don’t say that, bella.” theo accentuated his favorite pet name for you with a sharp thrust, making you lose your balance and have your chest leaning more towards his face. “how could i live my life without your gorgeous tits, hm?”

“like you did until now.”

“in agony? no more.”

his words made your cunt sloppier, more and more wetness spilling through your sheer thong onto theo’s crotch. your skirt too gave up, already riding upwards on your hips and covering almost nothing. theo could see the way the shape of his cock disappeared between your clothed folds, the top part of his pants peaking at him from time to time with each thrust of yours against his lap.

“let me see those tits, beautiful.” he raised his hands and grabbed the swell of your breast, thumbling over you nipple to convince you to give in fully. “i will make it up to you, trust me.”

there was no denying it. you both needed relief. fast.

with a slight nod and eager eyes, the two of you removed your top — and more — in an instant. his clothes joined yours on the bedroom floor, and now you had no idea which ones were clean and which ones were due a washing.

“oh my fucking god, mi fai impazzire (you drive me crazy)!” straddling him yet again, this time theo had the honor of burying his face between your bare breasts, inhaling that lovely perfume of yours and mouthing at your feverish skin. moving slowly on top of him, now grinding your drenched thong against his bare cock, you allowed theo to worship your breasts like he promised. twisting and pinching each nipple with dexterous fingers, he got them up and perky for his greedy mouth to suck on. “they’re so soft and warm, fuck.”

“don’t ever keep them away from me, understood?” sucking a purple hickey on the side of your breast, theo looked up at you with his blown-out pupils. was it an actual order or was it a plea? either way, theodore nott was whipped for your boobs and you had no chance of escaping his hands and mouth any time soon. “talk to me, pretty.”

“yes, theo.”

“good fucking girl.” he groaned from between your tits, his lips never leaving your tender skin as he started roaming his hands all over your naked body, desperate to leave marks all over you.

his cock twitches against your aching core, your wetness already mixing with his precum and making a mess all over his crotch and abs. the stickiness had your bodies stay glued together, aiding your movements atop of him; feeling every ridge, every vein, every little throb of need.

“you’re fucking soaked, shit.”  theo couldn’t handle it any longer, stopping his assault on your breasts and pressing his forehead against your chest in order to ground himself. he needed to feel you fully or he might cum only from humping you.

“let me fuck you, amore! i–” he gripped your hips to stop you from moving, otherwise he might have cum then and there. hoping to finish inside you, he eagerly asks for consent. you wouldn’t say no, right?

“apologize for breaking into my room.”

even horny beyond compare, you were still holding that over his head. such a needy girl you are, yet you seem to be the one controlling the strings right now. theo, ready to protest, could only groan when he felt you moving against him again, letting the mushroomy tip of his cock hit your clit. and, the cherry on top, it even slightly caught onto your entrance on its way back, teasing him with endless possibilities.

so he begged.

“i am so sorry, amore. i am a bastard. please– ah! please let me feel that pretty pussy.”

raising your hips just a bit, you dragged your thong to the side and positioned the tip of his cock right at your entrance. slowly, oh so slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, your cunt warm and welcoming to the intrusion. with each inch swallowed by your pussy, theo’s eyes rolled more and more to the back of his head.

“you feel so good, fuckfuckfuck” theo was about to lose his mind over how great your walls felt against his cock. so hot, so wet; your cunt was sucking him in more and more.

and when you started bouncing on him, he was a goner.

“thank you, amore! fuck, this is heaven!” it could have been all the edging he has suffered while dry-humping, or the couple of drinks he had before, but he was extremely sensitive. his deep groans from before were sometimes substituted by high-pitched whines of pleasure and pain, a great addition to your own sultry moans.

“don’t stop, bella! shitshit” gripping your hips with desperation, he pushed you down onto his cock with more fervor than before, his own hips raising from the mattress and plunging into you at a faster pace. theo was using you like his personal fucktoy, slamming you with force against him, reaching deeper and deeper and bullying that sweet spot of yours with every thrust.

your bed was creaking with the intensity of your movements. your ragged breaths, your chanting moans, your wet squelches around his cock. all of it were increasing second by second, signaling that the end was near.

“look at you, amore! you were made to bounce on my cock.” dipping his head lower to your chest one last time, theo sucked one of your hardened nipples into his mouth. one of his hands sneaked its way down to your clit, rubbing tight little circles against it to make you orgasm.

“cream my cock, pretty! make a biiiig mess for me.”

his words pushed you over the edge and, with one last sharp cry, your orgasm hit you like a truck. your gummy walls clenched like a vice around theo, milking his cock for every last drop. his hips shuttered one last time against your cunt, his load shooting straight inside you shortly after. thick ropes of cum spilled into your pussy, some even dripping around his cock and down onto your sheets.

neither of you moved for a couple of seconds, just staring at one another and at the sticky connection between your bodies, heavy breaths and gasps of air filling the silence.

“i guess you got more than tits, huh, nott?”

“lucky me.”

a/n. feedback is always appreciated! thank you for reading!

[protectingpluto]

books and deep throat thoughts

synopsis. one afternoon at your uni, mattheo — the bane of your existence — snoops through your book (he can read?) and finds out you’re not the innocent goodie-two-shoes everyone thought you were. fixated on humiliating you as much as possible, he discovers books are somewhat useful and indeed pleasurable to ride read.

pairing. toxic! mattheo riddle x reader

content/mdni. fem!reader, nerd!reader, not-so-inexperienced!reader, allusions to virginity (nothing confirmed 😈) bully!mattheo (he is cruel), toxic! mattheo, possessive!mattheo, jealous!mattheo, slight mention of harry potter x reader (but nothing serious! NO CHEATING!), inappropriate use of books, humping/book-riding, face-slapping (with his cóck), enemies-to-lovers tension, degradation & teasing, slight praise, clit stimulation, deepthroat/facefucking (is there a difference? lmk), dirty talk, name-calling (whore, sweetheart, princess, baby, but also 2 instances of brains), overstimulation & slight dumbification, messy, no p in v this time folks

word count. 3.6k

a/n. had a dream about this one. mostly self-indulged, but i hope you enjoy it! likes and reblogs are appreciated 🫶

“well, well, well, what do we have here?”

mattheo said condescendingly from behind you, making you jump in your seat from the sudden intrusion. he swiftly snatched the book you were reading with the tips of his fingers, gripping it with such delicacy as if it were the most precious jewel. sadly, that was just the impression he was leaving, actually holding the book as far as possible as if it were trash.

you should be used to it by now — the way he always comes in the afternoons in this empty club room to shoo you away for him and his friends to smoke and gamble all they want. unfortunately for them, you were allowed (and even begged) to occupy the room so that delinquents like mattheo won’t do dangerous stuff inside the university.

“brains reading her stupid books again?” he squinted his eyes at the opened pages, pursing his lips together in a mocking way at the black text on the pages. he twisted and turned the book in all directions, feigning interest, only to snicker at you after his examination. slightly closing the book— still keeping track of your page number with one of his fingers as a bookmark — he tilted the object towards your head and let it tap the top of your head.

“there’s still space left up here?”

oh, how he loved making fun of you and your bookworm attics. you didn’t do anything to him to deserve this, really. it’s just that your mere existence irks something in him.

mattheo riddle is a notorious bully at your uni, especially to solitary souls like you. but no one brings him joy like you do; maybe it’s the way you always make yourself small when you see him around, maybe it’s the way you scrunch your nose and avert your eyes every time he even breaths in the same room as you. maybe it’s the way you get quieter than usual, mumbling sometimes under your breath a half-assed retort to his jabs, or the way you look up at him with your puppy eyes in an attempt to soften his attacks.

bad news, sweetheart. it only makes him bully you even more.

“i read for pleasure.”

“and what do you know about pleasure, brains?” he scoffed in an instant at you, almost laughing out loud at your words. pff, reading for pleasure? yeah, and he gets into fights to bring peace among students. likely story.

cracking the book open on top of your head, he used you as a stand to skim through the text to tease you more.

“this shit putting you to sleep is– ” mattheo was ready to confirm that, yes, maybe books making you go to sleep could count as pleasure, but the end of his sentence got stuck in his throat right as his eyes fell on one of the words on the page. 

“dick? DICK?”

and he burst into a hideous laugh, menace and surprise so clear in his voice. this was a such a great discovery for him… his favourite nerdy girl was enjoying porn at university. in plain sight. with no worry.

what a shameless little whore.

“mattheo, no! stop that!” he hear you protesting, trying your best to grab at the book and push it away from his hands. but he was faster, stronger, more determined than you to discover more of your depravity. so, removing the book from your head, he replaced it with his hand and pushed you down right back into your seat.

“you’re reading porn? at school? oh my god!” he went on to taunt you, continuing to keep you seated as he resumed his reading of the paragraph. if at the beginning of your meeting he was keeping the book as far away as possible from his face, now he was practically buried between the pages, devouring all the description and the dialogue of the sex scene.

“ugh– this is so embarrassing.”

you puffed out loud, slapping your palms against your face and scrunching every muscle into them. you were such a dumbass, making such a mistake around mattheo like you didn’t already know what kind of person he is. he will never let you get away with it. he won’t snitch, he likes to keep blackmail material to himself, but he will remind you about this every. single. day.

“of course it is! the goodie-two-shoe virgin reads this at university.” he said between laughs, still flabbergasted by the entire incident.

“she pulled his pants and boxers down in an instant. his dick sprung free of its confinements and slapped against his tensed torso, the messy precum already stain–”

“stop, please stop! i can’t listen anymore.” you felt blood boil up into your cheeks, the embarrassment getting the better of you. him reading a few sentences from the book was what tipped you over and made you want the earth to split and shallow you in that instant.

putting your hands on your ears and closing your eyes — in an attempt to completely block any input from mattheo — you smashed your forehead onto the table before you.

you were so done.

“now i understand why you said pleasure!” you faintly heard him say from behind you, probably still continuing to scan the pages. at this point, you hoped and prayed he will just leave the room and never come back.

a small thud resonated in the empty room, then some footsteps. and then silence. did he left? was the universe actually listening to your pleas? was it–

“were you touching yourself, princess?”

a deep seductive whisper sneaked between your fingers, hitting your right ear and making your entire body shiver. his voice, soaked with the most seductive tone you’ve ever heard, went down your spine, generating goosebumps all over your skin. something also did a backflip in your tummy at his lustful words, arousal pooling in your stomach and making your thighs clamp together.

“you are such a pervert, mattheo!” you snapped at him with anger, raising your head fast from the table to glare right at him.

“but were you?”

he was so close to you. so so close. and with his second question he reduced the distance between the two of you even more, now his nose almost touching yours, his eyes staring right into your orbs, trying to figure out your nasty secrets.

“no.”

“so if i check right now, i won’t find you allll wet and sticky?” he purred at you, lowering his gaze to your lower half. one of his hands wandered down there, sliding like a snake down your leg riiiiight above your knee.

your leg twitched underneath his palm, the heaviness of it making you needier.

“what does that have to do with me masturbating?”

the pads of his fingers made their way lower and lower towards your inner thigh, only stopping when they made contact with the material of your panties. the drenched material of your panties.

“i–it’s a biological reaction, even without me doing anything.”

a devilish, elongated oh, reaaaally? was whispered into your ear the moment mattheo dipped his fingers further down your clothed crotch. tapping you twice when he made contact with your sensitive clit, he signaled the beginning of slow circular motions.

“mattheo…” a sharp intake of your breath resonated in the room, joined afterwards by a breathy moan of his name. that made his shit-eating grin grow bigger, now smiling at you like a cheshire cat.

“see, it feels good!”

slow but hard figure eights were drawn against your hardened nub, making your legs all twitchy. if it weren’t for the big distance between you and the table, you would have surely knocked your knees against it a few times.

“doesn’t it, princess? how could you not­–”

“n­–no.”

“no?”

be it a cheeky retort or not, mattheo was actually angered by your little remark. gripping your right knee with his spare hand, mattheo forcefully opened your legs wider. your skirt was pushed away from your crotch, nicely folding around your stomach. now he had a clear view of your soaked panties sticking to your cunt, molded around your puffy folds and your clit.

“why are you lying to me, baby?” throwing your right leg over his lap, he continued his ministration on your pussy, right now with more precision. his thumb remained on your clit, pushing and prodding against it, while his other fingers were agonizingly tracing up and down your clothed slit.

“your pussy juices are all over my hand and you’re telling me it doesn’t feel good?”

oh, he was mad. really fucking mad.

his middle finger found your desperate little hole, needly clenching around nothing every couple of seconds. adding a bit of pressure with the pad of his finger, mattheo pressed the material of your panties in, creating a little valley for his curious digits.

“oh, i get it.” he said all of a sudden, abruptly ceasing all movement.

your tiny gasps of pleasure were interrupted by a long whine of dissatisfaction, but he paid it no mind.

“that’s not what’s happening in the book! right. riiiight.”

removing his hands from you, he stood up from his seat and moved away from the table altogether. you tried to turn your head towards him, to register his next moved, but did not have time. mattheo, with his muscular arms, managed to spin the school chair around and have you face him.

“you don’t want to be pleasured.”

he said through gritted teeth, somehow a bit offended, somehow a bit excited. keeping his eyes glued to yours, he slowly started to unbuckle his leather belt.

“you want to give pleasure!”

letting his pants drop to the floor with a small clanck, mattheo then opened the buttons of his shirt to give you that sexy manly torso you had been reading about in your stupid porn book. you were also graced with a nice view of his happy trail, fine patches of brown hair disappearing underneath his garments. his boxers were still on and, even though the blackness of the material did not offer much to the eye, your hungry gaze saw the stain of pre-cum.

and, of course, the outline of his hard cock.

“c’mon, sweetheart. you’ve read the beginning of the scene.” mattheo beckoned you to raise from your seat and kneel like a good girl before him.

“come suck me off.”

lust definitely possessed you. there was no other explanation as to why you, one of the most non-problematic students, was actually kneeling in front of mattheo, the top problematic student at your university.

“fuck, you look so good down there!” he groaned at the sight before him, his cock twitching in his briefs at the mere fact that he had you in such a position.

and when you did reach for his undergarments, pulling them down by the hem all the way to his ankles, his shaft slapped against his abs, smearing wetness all over his skin; but unlike the book, his cock then dipped downwards because of its weight, sitting now at eye-level with you.

“touch it, baby! it’s all yours to play.”

your embarrassment was beyond the roof, but so was your arousal. with delicate fingers, you grabbed the base of his cock and tugged it forward, closer to your lips. his red tip was so close to your warm mouth — he could feel your breath on it.

were you scared to take him in? maybe, after all you were a virg­–

“oh, fuckfuck, shiiit.”

his soul almost left him when he felt your lips around him, a few inches already inside your wet mouth. your gooey tongue was tasting every single part of his cock, going flat along his sides and engulfing as much of his shaft as possible.

mattheo had to stabilize himself not to fall from the sudden pleasure, and thank god for an additional chair right by his side. gripping the edge of the wooden back, he continued to groan under his breath from your ministration.

“h–hollow your chee– oh my lord!”

there was no point in giving you instructions. it seems like you were connected telepathically with mattheo, already sucking in your cheeks and taking more and more of him in your mouth. a tear fell from your inner corner down towards your puckered lips, and that’s when you took him out of your mouth, short of breath.

your lips, wet from saliva and his precum, were still connected to his cock by a thick rope of wetness. you looked so pornographic before him, there’s no way he will not use this view in his future jerk-off sessions. and that lewd pop when the wet string broke… fucking sexy.

before letting you go back to business, he grasped the side of your head with his hand, palm sliding against your scalp and gripping at the roots of your hair. your eyes, sparkling with the desire to suck him dry, shot him the nastiest glare he has ever seen.

but he was curious of something.

“you’ve sucked cock before, sweetheart?”

he was sure you were a virgin. the whole university knew no one had a chance of getting in your panties. heck, he’s heard about people betting that you’d finish your studies still a virgin. yet, all this does not align with your exceptional head skills. surely porn books like that one weren’t that good of a manual, right?

your tiny nod of approval solved all the mystery.

your tiny nod of approval also ignited something in mattheo. and, this time, it wasn’t desire. something burned in his chest, something tugged at his heart the very moment you confirmed the fact that you did such a thing with another guy.

clutching your hair tighter, he tilted your face towards his. his brown eyes, still blown wide, were now piercing you with possessiveness and jealousy. his brows furrowed, his nose scrunched up, as he spat his next question right in your face.

“who was it? you better not lie to me, whore!”

keeping your face still, he shooed your hands away from his cock, grasping it with his own free hand. you cracked your mouth open, assuming he was going to ram his dick inside, but were only met with a wet slap. on your cheek. of his mushroomy tip.

 “you don’t even talk to guys, so you must be– no.”

slap. your other cheek got the same treatment, your skin now stained with his arousal and your spit.

he remembered right in that moment that you have been paired with a guy for a project last week. but there was no way he­–

“was it that four-eyed weirdo? potter?”

your eyes widened at his question, and he knew he got it right.

“you’ve sucked–”

slap.

“that nerd’s–”

slap.

“shrimp dick?”

slap.

“and here i thought you are a good girl.” his last slap landed on your lips, still slightly parted from before. nestling his tip between them, mattheo slowly pushed back into your mouth, this time not stopping at a few inches.

“open up, baby! i am gonna fuck that throat raw.” and he was going to keep his promise by the looks of it. not even stopping when you began to slightly choke around him, he stuffed you full of his cock. up to his very base.

your nose was now mere millimeters away from his happy trail; his shaft — a couple inches down your pulsing throat.

“i bet potter never reached that deep spot, huh?”

he was so mean, taunting you with your past experience with potter, while he swiftly started to thrust into your mouth. lips nicely enclosing around his girthy cock, they moved rhythmically and made mattheo feel like he was in heaven.

maybe, just maybe, he will forgive you if you let him cum down your throat.

“breath for me, sweetheart!” it sounded like advice, but, truly, it was a signal that he was going to increase his pace. placing both hands in your hair, mattheo now had full control of your head — bobbing you up and down his length, matching his own hips stuttering inside your mouth.

“atta, girl! fuck, you feel amazing!”

the sloshing sounds of your wet cavity, combined with his stickiness, echoed in the entire room. it was great that the room itself was more secluded, otherwise people passing by would surely realize what was going down in there.

and despite the deafening sounds of his thrusts, mattheo picked up the ruffling of your lower body and the failed attempts of your hands trying to give yourself relief.

“you’re such a pathetic girl!” he laughed out loud, amused by your needy behaviour.

“here, baby, use this.”

knocking around with his foot the book he has dropped — pages down — a while ago on the floor, he slid his shoe between the open pages and moved it in front of you.

“hump the spine like the whore that you are.”

at your visible hesitation, his voice hardened, and a command was issued.

“rub that cunt on it! now!”

moving closer to his foot, you plopped your pussy right on top of the book. the hard cover of the backbone pressed deliciously against your sensitive clit and, without waiting for an invitation, you started rocking your hips against it.

“see? you can listen.”

now, with you chasing your high like a whore with your porn book, he was more enthusiastic about fucking your mouth. hitting the back of your throat without any shame, he lost himself in the feeling of your sticky tongue and tight airpipe.

and, shiiiit, your expressions were doing something to him: your teary eyes, staring at him like a dumb whore, your lips, so deliciously abused by his aggressiveness, going all the way down to his navel with every move.

“don’t ever let potter fuck this mouth again, you heard me?” your eyes were more and more teary and so unfocused, all glossy and blown out; you definitely did not hear him. but he will remind you later. “this is my mouth now.”

dropping his hands from your scalp to the sides of your head, he grasped you tightly, even encapsulating your mistreated cheeks, and dragged you all the way to his torso for the finale.

“take all my cum, sweetheart! all of it.”

you had no other choice but to do as he says, your head practically caged by his hands into his abs. rutting your clit faster against the book, you tried achieving orgasm at the same time as mattheo. the solid material of the cover was a great bonus, and you thank past-you for spending a few extra bucks for a hard cover edition.

the feeling of his thick cum shooting down your throat, together with his moans, did it for you, making your whole body convulse and release all your arousal around the book. completely ruining it with your cum. the book could definitely not be used after this little rendezvous.

but it was all worth it.

 “swallow it all, baby!” mattheo groaned loudly while emptying the last of his load in your mouth, creaming you for good.

he set you free after his high passed completely, allowing you to take a biiiig gulp of air. the sudden volume of air knocked you up literally; you fell backwards on your butt, detaching yourself unwillingly from the book.

“messy girl! my messy girl!”

mattheo groaned, towering above you as he was carefully tucking himself in. he was taking in the image of your wrecked body, proud of himself that he ruined you so well.

by the looks of it, you were still a bit out of it; muscles still spasming, eyes still foggy. that was none of his business, however. you brought this all upon yourself the moment you decided to challenge him with that nasty attitude.

kneeling in front of you, he gazed right at your lips – you seemed to have caught your breath. good. so, without a warning, he gripped the side of your cheek, stretched his fingers across it up to your mouth, and hooked one digit under your lips to open you up for an examination.

“tongue out, sweetheart!”

the pain of him stretching your mouth made you conform to his order fast, cracking open your lips and sticking out your tongue for him.

“you actually swallowed it all? nasty fucking whore.”

“you said to, so–”

there was something about mattheo loving to interrupt you at every moment. this time, he didn’t speak over you, choosing to push down his thumb on your sticky tongue to silence you.

“let potter touch you one more time and i will make sure he won’t walk for weeks. understood?”

his thumb was pressing down against your wet muscle with more force; all you could do was nod. you knew what mattheo was capable of. you saw how his victims look after a fight — poor potter would be hospitalized for months...

mattheo seemed pleased with your answer, humming approvingly at you. swiftly removing his hand from your face, you though he was done with you for today. but he had one more thing to say before completely vanishing from the room.

“i will also make sure you won’t walk for weeks either.”

he dipped his head closer to your ear, hissing condescendingly the repercussion you will face. he won’t beat you up — god forbid. and he made it abundantly clear by the way his palm sneaked all the way down to your overstimulated cunt. with a small slap on top of your wet panties, your legs jumping at his touch, mattheo ingrained his little threat in your body.

“see you tomorrow, princess!”

a/n. had a different ending in mind, but mattheo was too nice so i changed it :)

tags: @downbad4reid, @nottsangel

[protectingpluto]

hiii <33

first i want to say that i absolutely ADORE your page on here, your writing is just wow, perfection!! i really liked your sirius story (even tho i strayed off a bit and started liking rabastan too ahahahah-) it's amazing omg

and i was wondering would you be up for writing for barty? anything with him honestly lol, but if you don't have any ideas feel free to ignore this!

SAY LESSSSSSS (I've been dying for someone to request Barty or rosekiller pls send all the requests). Also! so glad you enjoyed that fic! (I played myself and kinda fell for Rab too 😬)

I Wanna Be Yours | BCJ

feat. Barty Crouch Jr. x blackcat!reader

SUMMARY: Barty is determined to win your affection, but due to his larger-than-life personality and your aloof nature, you find it difficult to trust his intentions.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, pov switches once, a little angst and a little fluff, blackcat!reader, artist!Barty, only soft for each other, mentions of drinking and drug use, strong language, sort of insecure!reader, Barty is a giant simp

AN: i'm having my scene music renaissance, and something about that era is so Barty-coded. I have a few other songs that suit him in my mind, but I'd love to hear any ideas you guys might have!

masterlist | more blackcat!reader | requests open!

“Honestly, I don't know what Slughorn’s problem is. If I want to make a love potion that makes Xeno hard for four days, I can—”

“Four days and I would die of deprivation,” Xenophilius chuckled, his arm draped over Pandora's shoulders.

“Sure, but what a way to go.”

You walked beside them, half-listening to their sugar-dipped conversation, equal parts disgusted and deeply jealous. You'd never admit it, but you so badly wanted what your best friend had. Devotion, affection, complete and total acceptance. But you walked through life like a spring-loaded trap, biting the fingers off anyone that dared come close.

“Should we grab dinner before heading to the library? I'm starved,” Pandora said, turning her attention to you.

“Sure, it's probably quiet this early anyways—”

“Going to dinner, are we?” Evan bound up between Xeno and Pandora, throwing his arms over their shoulders. “I'm fucking ravenous.”

Two arms looped around your waist, hauling you back into a solid chest. The familiar scent of clove cigarettes and paint enveloped you, as if you needed any clues to know exactly who had the audacity to handle you so boldy.

“As am I,” Barty purred against the shell of your ear.

You wriggled in his hold, slapping at his forearms until he released you. “Not in the mood, Junior,” you warned, ignoring the way your stomach flipped when you met his dark eyes, eyeliner smudged along his lashes.

“Aw, don't be cross, gorgeous. You looked like you needed a hug,” he teased, falling into step between you and Pandora, slowing his natural gait considerably. He snatched your books from your arms, ignoring your protest and cradling them against his chest. He was dressed in a white dress shirt and a Slytherin vest, his tie loose and sleeves pushed up, hand-poked tattoos sprawling and dark against his forearms.

“I'm fairly certain she needs a hug as much as she needs your dumbass in her space,” Pandora said, rolling her eyes. “Which is not at all.”

“Oh, she needs me.” Barty grinned. “She just doesn't know it yet.”

“Give it a rest, Crouch,” Xeno cut in. “Keep pushing her and you'll end up on the bottom of the Black Lake.”

“Oh, how exciting! How will you do it, treasure? Stabbing? Maiming? Choking? Oh Merlin’s fuck, please say choking—”

“Maiming sounds about right,” you bit, attempting to get your books back, but he was far too tall, holding them way above your head. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of jumping for it, and crossed your arms over your chest with a huff.

“You can maim me whenever you like,” he said, a cheeky smirk on his stupid, handsome face. “Will you do it now if I ask nicely?”

You ignored him, looking forward again.

Barty Crouch Jr. loved nothing more than fucking with you, finding the gaps in your armor and trying to pry them open. But no matter how attractive you found him, because saints was he attractive, or how endearing he could be in the in-between moments, you refused to play his game.

You would not be made a fool of, not like every other person he set his sights on and got bored with a week later.

“So are we eating or what?” Evan asked, walking backwards at the front of the group. Any student unfortunate enough to be in his path quickly scurried out of it, cowed by the Slytherin's reputation for retaliation.

You watched them shrink away from Barty too, who clearly got some sick sense of pleasure from it. He even bared his teeth at a Gryffindor that veered to close to you, flipping your bodies around so he was on the outside and you were next to Pandora again.

“I'm actually going to head back to the dorm,” you said, slowing so you fell out of line with them. “See you later?” You said to Pandora, who gave you a tight frown.

“Are you sure?” She asked, tilting her head like an avian.

“Yeah, you guys enjoy,” you said, pretending you didn't see the disappointment flash across Barty’s face as you turned on your heel, letting the opposite flow of students sweep you up and away from your friends.

The truth was, Barty scared the shit out of you. He was everything you weren't: outgoing, bold, rebellious, and just charming enough to get himself out of whatever mess he and Evan made. And for whatever reason, he was obsessed with pushing your buttons. And he did, with infuriating efficiency.

Pandora insisted it was all in good fun, that he was harmless, but you knew better. You saw the way he manipulated others to get what he wanted, the way he masked his calculation with charisma.

Barty Crouch Jr. was far from harmless, and even if he had his friends fooled, he would not fool you.

Barty's POV

Barty watched your head bob away through the crowded corridor, your books still heavy in his arms and guilt gnawing a hole in his chest.

Why couldn't he just fucking control himself? He felt like a noxious ball of energy, filling whatever available space he could, unable to contain his own impulses, a slave to his own existence.

He just wanted you so badly. You occupied every part of his mind, owned every thump of his wretched, ruined heart. He was irrevocably, intrinsically yours, but you couldn't stand him, and it was largely his own damn fault.

Because he was broken. Couldn't hold a normal conversation. Couldn't flirt in a way that wasn't deeply vulnerable, or obscene and intense. For Merlin’s sake, he'd begged you to choke him just now.

You were a fix he couldn't get, so he was suffering withdrawals from a drug he never had. He was going mad with it, the desperation for your attention. He would do anything to hear you say his name, to occupy an ounce of space in that beautiful brain, even if meant looking like an idiot. Like a psycho.

It was worth it just to have you look.

After dinner, the four of them returned to the Slytherin common room, Barty still carrying your books with a wrapped bundle on top. Every step towards your shared dorm with Pandora made his heart beat faster, a nervous sweat collecting along his spine.

Nothing made him nervous like you did.

Barty walked into the room last, his eyes immediately drifting towards your bed even though he tried to resist. You were curled up against a pile of pillows, surrounded by parchment and open books, your quill scribbling furiously across the page in your lap.

You glanced up when they entered, meeting his eyes for a split second, low-lidded and disinterested, per usual, and turned your attention back to your work.

The dismissal itched like a bug under his skin, his blood going hot and tingly. He needed you to look at him again.

He set your books on your desk and kicked off his shoes, flopping onto your bed before he really thought about it. It was softer than his, covered with quilts and pillows, and he noticed a little stuffed cat tucked away under your covers. He could smell you all around him, so sweet and warm, and whatever rationality he had left dissolved into goo.

“Who invited you?” You snapped, shoving at his shoulder with little success. A swell of affection at your pitiful attempt made his heart beat quicken, you were just so fucking cute.

He set the paper bundle on your chest. “Thought you might be hungry, sweetness,” he said, hugging one of your pillows to his chest.

Merlin, you were so beautiful when you glared at him like that. He filed the image away for later, mentally sifting through his paint collection for the perfect shade to match your pout.

You looked a bit perplexed at the package, almost angry, and his anxiety returned, fighting through the haze caused by your proximity. “You brought me food?”

He nodded, biting back ‘and dessert too’. He wanted you to actually eat the food, not throw it at his head.

Hesitantly, you unfolded the bundle, as if he'd given you something rotten, or was pulling a prank. It made his lungs squeeze with guilt. He was shitty to a lot of people, most people. But not to you, never you.

Your brow softened with relief when you realized it was just a sandwich, before quickly furrowing again. He wanted to smooth it with his lips, kiss you until it never creased with worry again.

“I'm not hungry,” you said, setting the bag on the side table. A twinge of hurt stabbed between his ribs, but didn't let his smile falter. He knew that's what you would say. And he also knew you would eat it later, when no one was around to see you accept a small gesture of kindness.

That was good enough for him.

You slid out of your bed, leaving his side cold, and he stretched out against your sheets, wallowing in your residual warmth like a niffler in a pile of gold.

The others chatted around you, Xeno lighting up a joint by the cracked window, but you sat down at your desk, turning back to your work and tuning them out.

Barty sighed, letting his eyes flutter closed so he could pretend he was wrapped in you body instead of your sheets, his nose buried into your hair instead of your pillow.

Reader's POV

You and Pandora walked arm in arm into the library, chatting about the idiots in your Transfiguration class. You were headed to your usual spot at the back of library, a collection of over stuffed chairs by a stained glass window overlooking the Forbidden Forest, and stopped short when you saw Regulus, Evan, and Barty already there.

Barty was reclined in the window, his long legs propped up against the other side, a sketchbook in his lap, quill between his teeth.

“Excuse the hell out of me,” Pandora said, startling them all from their abnormal quiet.

Barty's head snapped up, his eyes immediately landing on you, and he about fell out of the window.

“What? Like you own this table?” Evan drawled, not looking up from his book,his expensive loafers propped up on the table.

“Yes,” Pandora shot back, dropping down beside him and pulling out her books with clear agitation. "So if you're staying, keep your mouth shut."

Evan mimed zipping his lips and crossed his heart. Barty just turned back to his sketchbook instead of sauntering over to you with some cheeky quip on his tongue.

A prickle of uncertainty climbed your neck. Perhaps you really had upset him about that sandwich. You wish you hadn't said you were hungry as soon as it came out of your mouth, but you were too proud to apologize. You were so stunned by the gesture, so overwhelmed by his body pressed against you, his warmth mixing with yours, that you clammed up. Shut him down.

But even now, you couldn't bring yourself to approach him and apologize. Thank him. So, you sat down beside Regulus, the only other member of the group you found tolerable most of the time, and he greeted you with a dip of his chin.

You pulled out your work, determined to pretend Barty wasn't there at all.

Of course, you failed. Your eye kept wandering back to him, his sharp jaw silhouetted by the light, his pierced brow furrowed in concentration as his hand moved across the page, silver rings adorning ink stained fingers. He was dressed down today, jeans and Slytherin sweater, the collar of his shirt underneath it crooked.

After an hour or so of quiet, he dozed off, his head lolled against the window, quill dangling loosely in his fingers. Barty did that a lot, slept in unusual places at unusual times when the quiet dragged on a little too long. Evan mentioned once that Barty struggled to sleep at night, insomnia or something, and even the draughts Madam Pomfry made him only worked sometimes.

Unable to quell your curiosity, you got up to retrieve another book, brushing past him and sparing a glance down at his sketchbook. Your own face stared back at you, framed with rough sketches of your hands, your eyes, the bow of your lips.

Your heart gave a painful lurch, a burst of affection making your bones soften, and you nearly stumbled over the carpet, catching yourself on the bookshelf at the last second.

You hurried down another row, praying none of your friends saw you, and braced yourself against the shelf.

Did Barty like you? Like, actually like you? You couldn't fathom it. It didn't make sense. You weren't kind to him, or outgoing, or special. He was all of those things and more, the most fascinating, maddening, all-consuming person you'd ever met in your life.

Surely, he didn't see all of those things in you? But why would he draw you if he didn't see something of interest? Something he liked?

Fuck, you couldn't breathe in this stuffy library. You needed air.

You steeled yourself and walked back to the table, collecting your things.

“Something wrong, y/n?” Regulus asked, always too perceptive, and Barty stirred, picking his head up from the wall to peer at you through drowsy eyes.

“Nothing, I—”

Barty slid off the window and you lost your train of thought, heat scorching your cheeks. “Rushing off to hang out with your more interesting friends?” Barty asked, his voice a little gruff from his brief nap.

“More interesting friends? Not at Hogwarts,” Evan chuckled. “We're as interesting as it gets.”

“If you're bored, babygirl, all you had to was say so,” Barty hummed, striding up to you.

You placed a hand on his sternum to stop him from coming any closer, ignoring the flare of heat that accompanied the contact. “You were asleep five seconds ago,” you argued.

“Asleep and dreaming of all the ways I could keep you entertained.” He grinned, wicked and sharp, and the simmering heat spread to your lower belly, your heart beating fast.

“What are you, a fucking court jester?” You bit, unable to stop your arm bending as he pushed closer, the smell of ink and his cologne making your mouth water.

“I'm whatever you want me to be,” he flirted, and Regulus and Pandora groaned in unison.

“Will you leave her the fuck alone?” Regulus snapped, tugging Barty back by a belt loop. “She's not interested in your act, Junior.”

“Act?” Barty quirked a brow. “I’m dead serious.”

“Don't talk about his brother that way!” Evan shouted, far too excited to make the over-used joke once again, and you rolled your eyes. Apparently, the rare quiet time had come to an end.

“I don't give a fuck about his brother!”

“I don't give a fuck about you!”

“Oh, so you're a bitch and a liar?”

“I'm not a bitch, you cunt!”

“I'll see you guys at the party later,” you said, using their bickering as your window of escape. You all but fled the library, desperate for some fresh air and clarity.

If Barty sincerely liked you…did that change anything? Was there a way to know for sure how he felt? You didn't even know how you felt, not really. You'd never let yourself really consider it for fear of inevitable disappointment.

Sure, you found him attractive, everyone did. And yes, despite yourself you thought he was funny and sweet, in his own, odd way. And he was especially sweet to you. He never brought your other friends food, or waited for them after class, or snuggled in their beds. Well, besides Evan.

He didn't really touch anyone else either. But if you were close enough, as he often ensured you were, he was touching you whenever he could. Knocked together knees in the Great Hall, leaning on you during class no matter how many times you shoved him off, throwing his arms over your shoulder when it was cold, wrapping his pinky around yours in a particularly crowded hall.

Yes, his words were often obnoxious and bordering on insane, but his actions…his actions were sincere, thoughtful, almost tender.

Was that the real Barty?

Maybe you had been fooled just like everyone else into thinking he was nothing more than a joker, a rowdy troublemaker, when the reality was so much deeper.

Had you been all wrong about him?

By the time you and Pandora left your dorm room to join the party, the common room was a madhouse. Green lights flashed in time with the thumping bass, bodies dancing and mingling in every available spot on the dancefloor, a haze of smoke and glitter over their heads.

You were wearing a black mini dress and heels, held together by string and a prayer. Your hair hung in loose waves down your back, your eyeliner sharp and lips painted. You knew you looked good, lethal in the best way, but all you could think about was Barty's reaction.

Would he like it? Hate it? Or even worse, not even notice?

Together, you and Pandora moved through the crowd towards your friends usual place at the far side of the common room.

Of course, you spotted Barty first. He was leaning against the bar, dressed in all black, tailored trousers and a sleeveless undershirt. Apparently he ditched his actual shirt before you arrived in favor of displaying his countless tattoos, most of them done by his own hand. His hair was dark with pomade and pushed off of his face, glitter clinging to the sweat along his lean chest and shoulders.

He looked like a wet fucking dream.

Xeno let out a low whistle when you and Pandora stepped out from the crowd, drawing Barty's attention from Evan and Dorcas.

His jaw dropped instantly and with a dramatic flourish, he pretended to faint into Evan's arms, clutching at his heart. Despite yourself, you giggled, and Pandora shot you a surprised look through a gap in her boyfriends embrace.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Barty gasped, sliding out of Evan's arms and onto his knees. “Look at—baby, look at you!”

You flushed under the attention, your blood heating as it raced through your veins, but you just rolled your eyes at him, a new confidence blooming in your chest. He loved it.

You strode over to the bar, closing his mouth with a finger, and leaned against the counter. “Firewhisky?” You asked the student bartending, and they stared back at you, dumbstruck, before rushing to collect your drink.

Barty leaned against your legs, his cheek against your thigh. “What are you doing to me?” He whined up at you, feeding into your surge of confidence.

You pushed his head away, tugging at the roots of his hair before releasing him, and he groaned, a low, panty-melting sound. “I'm not doing anything. You're just insufferable,” you chastised, accepting your drink.

“And you're beautiful,” he said, sounding almost reverent, and you nearly choked on your drink.

“Fuck off and drool on someone else, yeah?” You snapped, overwhelmed by his candor, even though it was exactly what you thought you wanted.

Fuck, you didn't know what you wanted. And even when you did, it seemed your subconscious wasn't always in agreement. You had wanted him to drool over you. He was literally on his knees, but some broken part of your brain couldn’t accept it. So you pushed him away.

“C’mon, you simpering mutt,” Evan said, hauling Barty up. “I think I saw a kegger over there.”

Barty started to protest, but Evan and Regulus dragged him away.

“You should have some mercy,” Xeno said, leaning on the bar beside you.

“Oh?” You raised a brow at him, taking a sip of whisky.

“Poor prick is besotted,” Dorcas supplied.

“He's full of shit,” you bit, that panicky feeling crawling up your spine.

Pandora shook her head, and your eyes widened. “It's true, I’ve never seen him so fucked up over someone before.”

“He's not the obsessive type. Not when it comes to dating, at least. He loses interest as often as he changes his underwear. But he's been stuck on you for months,” Dorcas said.

“Yeah, he usually obsesses over like quill tips, and arson—”

“You guys are serious?” You asked, cutting off Xeno. “You think he actually likes me?”

They all stare at you, dumbfounded.

“You can't tell?” Pandora asked, grabbing your face and shaking you. “Babe, he's absolutely gone for you.”

“Like, gone gone,” Dorcas added.

“But it's Barty, I mean—he’s never serious—”

“Exactly, that's what makes it so obvious!” Pandora cried, exasperated. “I thought you knew!”

“Why would you think that!” You shouted back.

“Because he says it constantly!” Your friends yell in unison.

“He was on his knees, y/n. Like literally on his knees,” Xeno said, shaking his head. “It doesn't get much more devoted than that.”

Devoted. It clicked then, the signs you'd been brushing off, refusing to see clearly because of your own veil of distrust. Because you didn’t allow yourself to accept the truth out of fear. Barty had been showing you for months how he felt, and not just in his words, in his actions. Bringing you food when you were hungry, walking you from class to class, meeting your barbs and verbal lashes with a smile.

He’d been wearing his heart on his sleeve this entire time, and all you’d done is punish him for it.

Oh, fuck. How could you be so blind?

You set your drink on the bar and pushed through your friends, ignoring their calls as you forced your way through the crowd, searching for Barty in the sea of green. You found him standing with Evan and few other members of the Quidditch team, cheering while a fifth year shotgunned a dandelion draught.

“Barty!” You shouted over the roar, grabbing his wrist.

He turned, his eyes widening in surprise. “Y/n? Are you alr—where are we going?”

You dragged him into a shadowed alcove, slightly hidden from the party. Your heart was pounding in your ears, tears already burning behind your eyes. “Be honest with me,” you said, forcing yourself to hold his gaze.

“Always,” he said automatically, brow heavy with uncertainty.

“How do you feel about me?” You asked.

Understanding dawned, and Barty's expression melted into something painfully soft, painfully sincere. “I just wanna be yours.”

The admission stole the air from your lungs, made your heart freeze in place. "M-mine?"

“Yours,” he breathed, his hands finding your waist, grip tight as desperation filled his eyes. “Please, let me be yours.” He lowered to his knees again, his head by your navel. “I promise—I promise I’ll be good, if you’ll just give me a chance too—”

You leaned down and grabbed the silver chain around his throat like a collar, dragging his mouth to yours in a fervid, frantic kiss. He surged upwards, lifting you into the air and crushing you between his body and the wall, forcing air out of your lungs. You wrapped your legs around his narrow hips as his tongue pried open your mouth, desperate to taste you. Desire pumped through you, scalding hot and more potent than the whisky, making your head spin, your skin tingle.

You tugged at his hair, drawing him closer, and he whimpered low in his throat. Your cunt clenched at the sound, your thoughts turning singular: make him beg. Your tongue traced his lips, tasting beer and cigarette smoke, and you sucked his lower lip between your teeth, biting hard before soothing it with your tongue.

His hips canted up into your core, his hands moving down to squeeze your ass beneath your dress and grind your core against him. You gasped, breaking the kiss for a moment, and he seized the opportunity to pillage your mouth again, licking at your teeth and the roof of your mouth.

“Your dorm,” you panted, yanking his head back by the roots of his hair.

He didn’t hesitate, throwing you up and over his shoulder in a startling feat of strength.

“Barty!” you squealed, giggling and slapping at his back while he carried you to the stairs, his hand keeping your dress in place so you didn’t flash anyone. He couldn’t have made it any more obvious what was happening, and you found that you didn’t care. If you were going to be with Barty, you were going to have to get used to being loved out loud.

“Look at her ass again, see what happens!” You heard him bark, his voice a rumble through his ribcage, and you rolled your eyes, smiling to yourself as he carried you up the stairs.

A moment later, you were being tossed roughly onto his bed, the door slamming shut with a muttered alohomora. Barty crawled up your body, his dark eyes flashing with a feral hunger that made your pussy purr, and he dove into your neck with his teeth and tongue, making you gasp and arch into his body, your whole body alight with pleasure.

“Easy, baby,” you cooed, petting his hair to try and settle his frantic affection. Poor thing couldn’t seem to control himself, so worked up he was rutting against your thigh. “I’m not going anywhere, darling, relax.”

He whined into your neck, clutching at the fat of your lovehandles. “Need you so bad,” he groaned. “M’sorry, can’t help myself.”

You rolled over him, straddling his hips with yours. “I know, love. Just sit still and be good for me, yeah?”

He nodded vigorously, watching you kiss down his body with heavy-lidded eyes. You pushed up the hem of his undershirt, licking a stripe between the valley of his abdomen muscles, admiring the tattoos you’d only gotten glimpses of.

“So pretty, Bat,” you purred, and felt his cock twitch against your chest, his head falling back against the pillows. “Been wanting me this whole time?”

“Yes, so badly—fuck, treasure, please—” he moaned when you grazed your teeth along his hipbone, sucking the skin into your mouth to leave a mark. His hand tangled in your hair, rings cool against your scalp, and you released his skin with a pop, admiring the plum-colored bruise left behind. “I’m getting that tattooed,” he panted, dragging a thumb over your spit slick lips. “Swear to Salazar.”

You giggled, shifting further down to undo his trousers and finding that he apparently skipped boxers. His cock sprung out to slap against this stomach, rigid and flushed, a bead of pearly precum dripping down to his navel. Gently, you traced a finger over the protruding veins along his shaft, admiring him.

Barty hissed through his teeth, his muscles tensing to keep still.

“Good boy,” you praised, wrapping your hand loosely around him, pumping once, twice without any real pressure. He was long and slightly curved, gorgeous, and you couldn’t resist dragging your tongue up the root of him, feeling the velvety texture against your lips.

“Fucking shit, you’re going to kill me.” His fingers tightened in your hair as you lapped at the head, savoring the salty taste of him.

You looked up at him through your lashes, his head thrown back, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths, every muscle flexed tight. Fighting for his life to hold still.

“Baby,” he whined when you stopped, picking up his head to look down at you.

“Say your mine,” you ordered, hovering just over his cock, holding his wild-eyed gaze.

“I’m yours. I’m so fucking yours.”

You smiled and wrapped your lips around him, swallowing down as much of him as you could manage and he cried out, rough and breathless with relief. You bobbed up and down on his length, tongue pressing against the root of his cock and using your hand to stroke what you couldn’t reach, and you watched his soul leave his body.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he chanted, using your hair to lift and lower you a little faster, his control starting to falter as you pulled him apart. “Bloody hell, you’re way too good at this. What the fuck—oh saints. Your mouth feels like fucking heaven.”

You hummed in response, letting him push you further down, gagging on his length before he released you and you pulled off of him to catch your breath, a trail of drool connecting your lips and his head.

Barty groaned. “Never mind, I’m getting that tattooed. Right on my fucking forehead so every time I look in the mirror—”

You climbed back up his body and draped yourself over him, silencing him with a sloppy kiss, his tongue laving across your lips to taste himself. “Do you ever stop talking?” you teased, kissing the corner of his mouth, his cheekbone, his temple.

In a quick movement, he flipped you beneath him. “There’s one sure-fire way to shut me up,” he purred against your ear before kissing and licking down your neck and chest. Every pass of his lips was electric, a bolt of pleasure straight your weeping pussy, swollen against your panties and desperate for attention. “This dress,” he murmured, tracing the swell of your breast with his tongue. “Wear it for anyone in particular?”

“I wanted to see your reaction,” you admitted, gasping when his big hand came up to knead your tit, fingertips still a little stained from sketching. His rings were harsh against your skin, and you arched into him, relishing in his greedy touch.

“Sent me to my knees, sweetheart. Damn near killed me.” He pulled the top of you dress down, your tits spilling free, and he took one pert nipple into his mouth, lashing it with his tongue while he teased the other with his hand.

You keened, hands flying into his shaggy hair. Every pull of his mouth went straight to your cunt, making your hips buck against his thigh. He shifted to press his leg harder against you, letting you chase your pleasure, and hummed in approval against your chest.

The friction was amazing, buzzy heat spilling under your skin and making you moan and cling tighter to him, trembling with unspent energy. “Fuck, Barty—please.” You weren’t sure what you were begging for, but he seemed to understand you perfectly.

“Say your mine, treasure,” he said, biting at the side of your breast, and you yelped.

“Yes, Barty! All yours! Just please—”

He pushed two fingers into your mouth, silencing you while he shifted down your body. Without warning, he buried his face between your legs, licking and sucking at your pussy through your panties with an eagerness that made your eyes cross, your teeth sink down on his digits.

“So fucking sweet, baby. Melting like sugar f’me.” He yanked your panties down your legs and returned to his feasting, laving his long tongue through you before sucking hard at you clit. He slipped his fingers from your mouth, needing both hands to spread you open for his consumption.

Your mind was wiped clean, erased completely by all-consuming bliss as he practically mauled your pussy, vicious in his pursuit of your pleasure. His tongue fucked into you, the slurping loud and lewd, while he massaged your clit with his thumb. You dug your nails into his sheets, trying to stifle your screams into his pillow.

"So responsive, baby. Ready for more?" He asked, easing his middle finger inside of your clenching channel, curling against the gooey spot behind your pelvic bone that made you melt into the mattress. Adding a second finger, he started nursing your clit again, letting his dexterous artist’s fingers coax you open.

Once you were moaning, loose and languid against the mattress, he ramped back up, working your g-spot like it stole something from him he was hellbent on getting back. He dragged his teeth against your clit, soothing the flare of pain with his tongue, and you felt yourself draw tight, teetering on the edge of oblivion.

“Barty—oh God, I’m going to come—oh fuck, oh fuck!” You lifted almost completely off the bed as your orgasm slammed into you, ripping through sinnew and bone to consume your heart, devour you entirely.

Barty slowed his ministrations, dragging his tongue through your spasming pussy with long, lush licks, his hold tight on your thighs when you started to inch away from him, your body twitching and shaking as you came down from your high.

“That’s my treasure, so fucking gorgeous when you come for me,” he hummed, smiling against your skin, and nuzzled his nose against your clit while he withdrew his fingers, making you jump and whine. “Not so mean now, are you, sweetness?”

You shook your head, trembling and weak, completely boneless beneath him.

"So soft for me, hm?" He dragged you down the bed, throwing one of your calves over his shoulder while he swiped the head of his cock through your messy slit. “Better hold onto something, darling. You've got me at the end of my leash.”

You wrapped your hands around the bars of his headboard and he grinned, a wicked slash across his handsome face.

“Fuck, I knew you were perfect for me.” He notched his cock at your entrance and with a smooth roll of his hips, buried himself to the hilt. You both cried out, the fullness, the stretch more intense than anything you’d felt before. “I was fucking made for you, baby,” he groaned, dragging his hips back before snapping them forward, your pussy fluttering around him.

“Fuck, B, feels so good,” you mewled, rocking your hips to meet his thrust for thrust, the bed creaking loudly beneath you.

He used his hold on your elevated leg to lift your hips off the bed, ratcheting up to a punishing pace, making you scream and thrash on the bed while he fucked you with every ounce of desperation and determination he’d harbored over the last few months. His teeth sunk into your calf, hard enough to send a bolt of pain down your leg and make you cry out, heightening the pleasure radiating from your core until you were teetering on the edge again, every graze of his cockhead against your cervix winding you tighter, higher—

“Shit, baby, I’m gonna come soon,” he grunted, his thrusts growing sloppy, erratic and rough, and you could only nod. “Can feel it, tres. C’mon, babygirl, come with me. Please, need to feel you come around me, m’dying for it, please, please—”

You came with a scream, your vision whiting out as sunlight blazed through you, eviscerating every ounce of tension, trepidation, fear, and leaving you a beacon of light, nothing but giddy, delirious stardust.

“Fuck, yes, that��s it—fuck!” Barty came a heartbeat after you, the swelling and throbbing of his cock as he painted your inside white prolonging your release, wringing every drop of pleasure from you until you both collapsed onto the bed, chests heaving and sticky with sweat, the glitter from his skin decorating yours.

You reached for him, trembling and raw, and he gathered you into his chest, kissing your cheeks and forehead with a dizzying gentleness. “Barty,” you breathed, hands curling against his chest, too overwhelmed with feeling to say anything else.

“I’m yours,” he whispered, cradling your face to bring your gaze to his. “I’m yours.”

You nodded, leaning forward to kiss him, taste him again, letting the warmth of his body, the heavy beat of his heart, ground you in the reality of this moment. Barty was yours, and you were his. And you were safe. He wanted you despite your attitude, your armor, your callousness. He wanted you exactly as you were, more than happy to lay in the shadows with you, or draw you out into his light to dance.

“And I’m yours,” you breathed against his lips, and he smiled.

“I'll be right back,” he murmured, pressing a delicate kiss to your head before flying out of bed and wrenching open the door, his cock barely stuffed back into his pants. “SHE’S FUCKING MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNEEEEEEE!” He screamed down the stairs to the party.

A chorus of cheers rang out, reaching you from the common room. You buried your face into his pillow, laughter bubbling up despite the embarrassment scorching your cheeks.

Barty whirled around, a maniac’s grin on his face, and he dove back into bed, determined to stake his claim as many times as possible before sunrise.

Thank you for reading!

[protectingpluto]

sorry for all of the requests i just love your writing, could i get another rockstar!sirius fic with these prompts "Swallow it. All of it." "God, you feel so fucking good." "Suck on it."

˚୨୧⋆｡ — title; eased worries (sirius black x fem!reader)

˚୨୧⋆｡ — prompt/s; 4) “swallow it. all of it”, 5) “god, you feel so fucking good” and 6) “suck on it” — from "𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙝, 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩…" 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩 𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙨 

˚୨୧⋆｡ — warnings; rockstar!sirius x reader, established relationship, smut—oral (m receiving), minors do not interact!!!, cum eating/swallowing, post head kisses, sirius is big in love, reader takes care of sirius (733 words)

˚୨୧⋆｡ — a/n; i loved this one

— thank you for celebrating with me || submissions are now closed!!

Sirius had been nervous all of yesterday about today’s show, pacing every room you were alone in. 

which made you worry, he was never like this before shows. 

you’d asked and asked what was wrong, only to be met with a huffed out “nothing” each time. 

once you managed to get him to stop pacing, you’d tried working the tension from his shoulders but that didn’t work either. 

there was only one thing left that you knew would work. 

checking the time, seeing that there was still an hour and a half until Sirius had to go on stage—which left you with more than enough time to make him feel better. 

carefully, you pushed him onto the old rugged couch in his dressing room before sinking to your knees. 

he tried protesting, though he didn’t want you to stop. 

you worked his belt open with ease, before tugging down his zipper, listening as a sigh of relief fell from his lips. 

god you knew him better than he knew himself. 

“too good to me love”

he murmured, watching you through half lidded eyes as you got his cock out of the confines of his trousers. 

you leaned in, pressing a kiss to the head of him and listening to him groan. 

Sirius’ hips rocked in search of more, waiting for you to take him into your mouth. 

“suck on it”

he huffed almost impatiently, though he knew you’d take care of him. you always did. 

after a minute, you took him into your mouth. the warmth surrounding him had a throaty groan spilling from his lips while his head fell back, his thighs spreader a little wider to give you more room. 

slowly, you began to bob your head. working him over with your mouth as he lifted his head, watching you through half lidded eyes as moans fell freely from his parted lips. 

when your eyes flicked up to meet his, his hips bucked up into you, causing you to gag slightly as he hit the back of your throat. 

“shit baby, ‘m sorry”

he apologised, leaning down to wipe the spit that pooled from the corners of your lips. his touch soft as he held your face for a minute, only pulling back as a zing of pleasure shoot up his back. 

your pace continued, bobbing your head as you worked him closer and closer to his rapidly approaching climax. 

it never took long to work Sirius over the edge when he was stressed, and you both knew it. 

“god, you feel so fucking good”

he told, his back arching away from the couch as his climax teetered on the edge. 

his cock throbbed in your mouth, your eyes on his face as he tried to hold off. 

but when your hands soothed across his thighs, he knew he couldn’t last much longer. 

you bobbed your head a couple more times before he spilled himself into your mouth, groaning at the feeling of your mouth still around him as he came down from his high. 

“fuck baby”

Sirius groaned, reluctantly pulling you off of his cock. he watched as some of his cum spilled as he pulled you off of him, his thumbs swiping across your lips before pushing into your mouth. 

his voice was hoarse and still laced with desire as he spoke. 

“swallow it. all of it”

you waited until he removed his thumb to swallow his release, making show of sticking your tongue out to him. 

a tired yet triumphant look spread across his face at the sight, his hands cradling your face as he pulled you up into a lazy kiss, whispering against your lips. 

“so fuckin’ good to me, always know what i need”

you chuckled at his words, brushing a stray curl out of his face before trailing your hands down his chest. 

carefully you helped tuck him back into his trousers, working on his belt and pressing another kiss to his lips as his tour manager knocked on the door. 

Sirius groaned in frustration, stealing another kiss before he stood from the couch. he helped you up onto your feet as he led you to the door, his arm draped around your shoulders as yous walked. 

if there was one thing Sirius loved more than performing on stage, it would always be you and how you knew him better than he knew himself. 

reblogs are highly appreciated !

[protectingpluto]

stalking people on spotify is an underrated hobby

[protectingpluto]

— old dog, new tricks

pairing: wednesday addams x fem!werewolf!reader

warnings: smut, lesbian sex, slight petplay, deragadation, topping from the bottom, strapon referred to as cock, wednesday is STILL a sadist, all characters are aged-up

summary: the control wednesday has over you is frustrating. you're put back in your place the second you try to rebel

word count: 2.5k

“So yeah, since the Furs are gonna be the ones hosting the party, every wolf gets to bring a plus one. There’d be enough of us as it is, we should keep it low. The last time they held a gathering, it ended up... badly,” Enid refrains from going into details, which most likely involved a lot of destroyed furniture and saliva, clearing her throat as she slurps on her orange juice, leaning forward in her seat to gauge your reaction, “It’s free alcohol though! Courtesy of the Scales, so we have to let them in, too.”

Wednesday is sitting next to you, her hands clasped together on her knees, the plate in front of her already clean by the end of the lunch break. Her face is unreadable – but you grin, the thought of having drinks in a nice company of fellow werewolves providing a surge of enthusiasm to finish the school day.

“Sure– “

“I’m afraid we won’t be able to join you, Enid. (Y/n) and I have business for tonight.”

The toothpick you clench in your mouth almost snaps in half.

Enid raises an eyebrow, looking between the two of you, but nods, seeming to take Wednesday’s words as final. It vexes you even further.

The ravenette doesn’t let you say another word. She dabs at her lips with a tissue, caringly grabs both of your trays and walks off. The werewolf’s sky-blue eyes meet yours – she looks like she wants to say something, but the irk in your gaze serves as a good enough warning, and she keeps her mouth shut.

A sigh mixed with an exasperated groan leaves your mouth, and you get up to follow your girlfriend, now staring holes into the back of her head instead.

Recess is over, and with it goes your faux relaxed attitude – you sit with your arms crossed, your knee jumping in an annoyed tick as you stare unblinking at your biology book, almost burning through the paper with your glare. Ajax, who’s unfortunate enough to have to share a desk with you, cowers at the angry aura you induce, the snakes of his hair peeking from under his beanie cautiously.

When your last period ends, you pack your bag hastily and throw it over your shoulder before all but storming out of the class. As you walk through the corridor, you notice Xavier out of the corner of your eye, the brunet artist falling in step with you. When he absentmindedly asks if you’re coming to the party tonight, it takes you all of your willpower not to punch him in the jaw.

The door is slammed behind you as you enter your dorm, your nostrils flaring.

You’re mad. And now that the party is totally out of the question, you need a different way to let out steam.

You don’t waste your time undressing yourself, opting to change for something easy to dispose of and claw into, before you reach for the nightstand, opening the bottom drawer.

The toy inside holds a lot of rather pleasant memories – of Wednesday bending you over the balcony railing, of her driving her hips into you as you all but begged her to fuck you right on the floor of your dorm.

Well. Werewolf heats are known for their feverous intensity. Howling isn’t the only reason one should wear muffled headphones with wolves around.

You grab the silicone toy, quickly tightening the straps around your waist, which surprisingly comes rather natural and makes you wonder why the hell you haven’t thought of doing this before, then tug on a pair of grey sweatpants over the strap-on, glancing at the clock – you still have a few minutes before Wednesday comes back.

You give yourself a once-over in the mirror. The shirt’s neckline is hanging just above your breasts, exposing your collarbones, your hair is disheveled with all the exasperated running your fingers through it you’ve been doing, and the outline of the silicone cock is pretty much visible through your pants. Exactly what you were going for.

The faint sound of footsteps reaches your sensitive ears, and it’s a pattern you recognize easily by now – you step away from the mirror to sit back on the bed just in time with the door creaking open.

“Business?” You mutter instead of a greeting. “I didn’t know we had plans.”

Wednesday freezes in the doorway, eyeing you. Her gaze drops to your pants, and a small, barely noticeable smirk makes its way to her pretty plump lips before its gone like it was a mirage.

“Why, don’t you just sound so eager to spend time with your significant other,” the ravenette deadpans sarcastically, walking over to her desk to abandon her backpack there, her lithe fingers working to undo the buttons of her uniform blazer – slowly, deliberately, the same way she drags her words out as she speaks, completely unbothered, “Would you really rather prefer a... frat party with a bunch of uncivilized mutts?”

She turns to look at you, misty eyes shining with a challenging glint.

“Addictions run in the family. Along with my last name I happen to bear a habit of drinking my stress away,” the mattress creaks in protest as you get up, step closer to Wednesday so that you’re towering over her smaller frame, “That, and valuing my freedom and independency.”

Wednesday doesn’t look intimidated in the least. She looks up at you, her eyebrows raised slightly, “But I can’t really help it. You’ve always been like this – so pliant and submissive,” the girl takes her blazer off, draping it over the back of her chair, never breaking eye contact with you, “It’s just so... entertaining to order you around sometimes, knowing you’d follow every single one of my commands.”

You grit your teeth at her words, partially from irritation, partially because they’re true – Wednesday has had you wrapped around her finger from the first day you met her, and it was a given you’d be so smitten to submit to her every whim. The ravenette’s influence on you is omnipotent.

And now, you’re not sure where it’s coming from, but there’s hot, rebellious fire burning in your chest, and the young woman in front of you is the spark responsible.

“I’m not a dog.”

“Oh? Is my perception wrong, then?”

Wednesday steps closer, her chin raised slightly, and before you know it you’re backing down to your shared bed, the backs of your knees hitting the wooden frame.

“Am I wrong? You’re not my pet, then?” She asks again, “Can you prove it? Can you make me shut up and take it?”

Suddenly you remember what your original plan was supposed to be. You mentally facepalm yourself – Wednesday’s been in the room for less than five minutes, yet you already feel the remains of your pride and resolve crumbling apart and proving her right.

Frustrated, your grasp at her hips, your talons coming out at your exasperation, tearing into her skirt, and turn the small girl around, pressing your mouth to hers hotly.

In a few moments you’re a mess of tangled limbs on the bed, Wednesday’s hands sliding towards the waistband of your pants to slide them down, the cool silicone of the toy pressing against her clothed cunt.

You pull back slightly, hovering over her, your claws catching at the lace of her panties, and it takes you a minute to tear them away – your hands are practically shaking with anger and anticipation. You don’t bother with the skirt, flipping it away for easy access, and Wednesday parts her thighs gently, your gaze subconsciously trailing down to the supple pale skin of her lower body.

Jesus, you want to bruise it so badly.

But no. Not now.

Focus. Focus.

Your hands grab ahold of the plushy flesh, fingers digging in as you part her legs even further, and Wednesday lets out a small sound at the aggressiveness. You’d grin at the small victory of yours, but it’s not really worthy yet – her expression is still unfazed, and you know you’ll have to try harder than that.

Or maybe not, you think as you suppress a chuckle at how positively drenched Wednesday is – of course, you could smell it before you could see the pretty wetness covering the inside of her thighs, and you’re damn sure she knows it, too, judging by the way her jaw tightens before she speaks.

“Do not gloat, dog. That is not your doing.”

Okay, that. That actually makes an angry vein pop on your forehead, the thought of someone else getting Wednesday hot and bothered and gorgeously dripping like this is akin to bothering a hungry animal during its meal.

You align yourself with the beautifully dripping cunt of the small ravenette, pressing your palms into her thighs to keep her still – fuck it, you have to bruise her – and push the tip against the feverish skin, sinking in slowly. You watch her walls wrap around the toy deliciously, the sight almost making you forget the reason for your fury, and an involuntary sigh escapes your mouth as you’re halfway to being sheathed inside Wednesday – the girl herself is silent, except for the wet sound of her pretty pussy taking your fake cock in. You look up to see her watching you with half-lidded eyes. She looks bored.

Her smirk is almost as taunting as her words.

“Is that all you’ve got?”

An irritated huff escapes your nose, fingers digging deeper into her, and in a single sharp thrust you bottom out, your legs pressing flush against the back of her hips.

Wednesday sighs, finally, eyes fluttering shut as all the air is pushed out of her lungs. You wrap your hands around the bottom of her thighs to pull her in as close as possible, and this time you actually grin as the ravenette has to bite back another choked noise, hanging her head back on the pillow and taking a deep inhale.

Then she opens her eyes, meeting yours again. Irritation paints her face at your smug expression.

“Are you getting cocky now, (Y/n)? It was but a mediocre start,” she tuts. “I thought you were going to show me how good you can make me take it. How strong you are.”

Her manicured hand caresses up your bicep, scratching idly.

“Alas, the only thing that’s giving me pleasure right now is telling you you’re not good enough.”

All the thoughts of being gentle and sweet with Wednesday are slapped out of your mind as soon as her words register in your already pussy-drunk brain. With a nearly animalistic snarl you pull out so that the head is barely visible before driving back in, the silicone sinking between her lips, disappearing in a red-hot embrace as you immediately fall into a swift rhythm. Your abdominal muscles contract violently, screaming at you that the pace is too much. Too fast. Too hard.

But you don’t care. You want Wednesday to scream those things.

The ravenette stretches one of her long shapely legs to rest it on your shoulder, the angle pulling you deeper into her with each thrust. You grunt, turn your face to nibble at her ankle through the stocking, making Wednesday shudder.

“You look... angry.” She observes, her words a bit broken, breath stolen by your merciless pounding into her. “Are you angry with me, puppy?”

You growl in response. Her palms reach to cup your face, a condescending smile on her lips.

“For teasing you? Oh, don’t be angry. It is simply the natural way of things. Whatever you do, you will always belong underneath me. Taking me like a good girl. Pretty puppy always wants to be my good girl, doesn’t she?”

You whine, and Wednesday chuckles, satisfied that her words are causing the effect she desired – you melt despite the fact that you’re the one fucking her into the bed, ruining the mattress with how much of her slick is dripping down between your bodies.

“You’re so lucky that I’m letting you do this,” her voice is breathy, and your attention snaps to the way is sounds rather than the words she speaks, “Look at me and say it— Don’t you dare scowl at me.”

Wednesday scolds your bared canines and your furrowed eyebrows, the hold of her palms turning rough on your chin.

“Say thank you. For my letting you be in my cunt right now.”

Her tone sends an array of shivers down your spine – you feel reminded of where your place is supposed to be. It takes some time for you to finally find your voice, your mouth slightly open as you still your hips for a moment, cock buried in Wednesday’s soft heat.

She watches you expectantly. You lean down to press your nose into her shoulder.

“Th... thank you...” You murmur into her neck shakily, hiding your face in embarrassment.

You’ve lost.

The ravenette hums, wraps her legs around you, a gesture of pity and generosity on her part – she knows how much you love it when she does that, the balls of her stocking-clad feet pressing into your back.

“You’re welcome, puppy. Now get back to work.”

Your pace turns slow, meaningful, and Wednesday seems content with the change, her back arching at a particularly strong and deep thrust of your hips, pretty mouth falling open with a breathy sigh, “Oh, mia grande forte cucciola… Trying so hard to make me feel good…”

Her walls flutter around the shaft, her heavy breathing mixing with the obscene sounds of your skin slapping hers.

“Should I cum on you? Should I let you have it just this once?”

At that you perk up, and if you were wolfed out at that moment, you’re pretty sure your tail would be wagging like crazy as you whine a few pathetic ‘please, please’ into her neck.

“I will. I will, amore. But not because of you fucking me so good… Just because I pity you.”

Wednesday brings you closer to her, your chest flush against hers as she tilts her head back, her pussy turning impossibly tight around your cock, a choked moan leaving her burgundy lips, right into your ear, making goosebumps trickle up your neck. You fuck her through her orgasm obediently, wishing you could feel her throbbing around you.

When Wednesday’s hold on you relaxes, your jaw goes slack around her shoulder, her ruined uniform the last thing on your mind as you try to catch your breath.

She sighs with content, pressing a kiss to your cheekbone.

“Good dog.”

There’s no strength left in you to fight the title, so you accept your defeat, leaning most of your body weight onto the small girl and muttering something unintelligible.

“Pull out.” She orders, and you comply, watching as her slick drips down the toy, before the ravenette pushes you back onto the bed, her thighs bracketing your hips. Her warmth against you makes you shudder.

“Now,” her hands reach for the straps, undoing them with masterful precision, “I’m going to reclaim what’s mine.”

The toy is tugged down your legs, and Wednesday licks her lips.

“I hope the ache you’ll feel with every step you take tomorrow reminds you of who you belong to, puppy.”

[protectingpluto]

TAKE YOUR PICK.

wednesday addams x fem!vampire!reader

summary: a werewolf attack leaves you in need of aid, though you find yourself aided in more than just your wounds.

warnings: smut (18+) — slight oral (r receiving), fingering, strap-on referred to as “cock” at one point, slight face-slapping, teasing, dirty talk, virgin!r, withheld orgasm. -> mentions of blood, wounds, werewolf attack, medical equipment, mentions of kidnapping, scarring, and dom!w + sub!r.

word amount: 6900+

a/n: yes you read that right, 6900+ words. i guess i beat you, didn’t i, my ⭐️ anon 😉.

“Our successor greets us with torture by this grouping.” Her words were dull, and as you turned to face her, you were met with her eyes boring into yours. You cocked your head to the side, easily bypassing a tree that would’ve hit anyone else. Your instincts were stressed by your venture into the woods with the murderous woman you labeled your enemy accompanying you.

Your skin itched. Badly. Though you would rather burn in the flames she created than take action for relief, you never dared to let the shorter girl win at her former pleas to have her partner switch, labeling it as having to not deal with your pollen allergy, but everyone knew of your rivalry.

It was no secret after all. You couldn’t count the number of times she tried to assist in your early death, ranging from simple pop-up attacks that your raging instincts guided you with to kidnapping you into the Nightshades library and torturing you—or more so, trying her best to—while reading latin incantations from a book that still scarred your mind to this day.

“You don’t have to tell me.” With your head shifted into it’s former state, staring straight ahead, you expected Wednesday to mirror your action. She hadn’t.

Your eyes darted all around the forest, searching for insects, animals, humans, or anything of the above that would pose a potential life-threat. Unlike Wednesday, you allowed yourself to feel fear because you actually cared for your life.  

You and Wednesday were similar, which was the root of your rivalry. She eyed you as a copycat, but you had always been who you were since the day you were born, and nobody could ever change you. You thrived in academics and sports, taking part in three education-related after school clubs as well as fencing, track, and a modernized human sport known as “soccer” to Americans during the summer.

You easily got more praise for your contribution to the school’s image, while Wednesday held the slimy silver medal praising her for being in second place, and her mind raged at the remembrance of it every time. She wanted to be number one above all else, but she could never bypass you. Hell, you even bypassed Bianca Barclay, forming a small rivalry with her when you first arrived at the academy.

“Would you like me to send you a photographed Polaroid of myself with my signature on it, or shall you continue to stare at me and soon trip over a rock?” Wednesday’s eyes furrowed at the end of the sentence, unable to hold back a yelp when she inevitably did fall over a grounded rock and faceplant on the floor.

You halted your movement, turning your head to the side to catch a glimpse of Wednesday rolling herself on her back, a hand over her knee from a wound forming due to her ignorant choice to wear shorts. “We have thirty minutes remaining to collect all we need for our botanical project. I’d suggest you get off the floor.” 

Before she could even comprehend what you said, she found herself looking up into your eyes as you towered over her. Once more, you cocked your head to the side, allowing a sly grin to form on your face at the sight of blood dousing her hand from the open wound. “And you tell me I’m the clumsy one?”

“You are.” She shot back immediately, her eyes narrowing at your facial expression of humor. You found humor in her; you always have. It was a key part of your romantic attraction to her, though that aspect had always been locked away as a secret, and your humor lied in her inability to keep up with you.

Whether Wednesday wanted to admit it or not, she had found her challenger. Someone who was undeniably better than her, someone who forced her to work harder to be the one at the top, though she knew secretly she’d always be trapped in second place.

You were better than her, and it annoyed her more than anything in the world. That’s why the discovery of her own attraction toward you scared her—the girl who dared not feel emotion. She blamed it on your well-behaved confidence and that stupid grin you flashed her from day to day. 

A grin she wanted to kiss off, she thought once, and she contemplated throwing herself off the balcony in her dorm room when she allowed that sentence to linger in her mind.

You laughed genuinely, your grin growing wider at the sight of Wednesday stumbling to get up, her face crinkling only so slightly at the pain that coursed through the entirety of her leg.

“You’re unfit.” A huff came from her, head flicking up to meet your gaze, eyes lingering on your standstill grin—your pink-lipped mouth—for a second deemed too long before she lunged forward and pushed you aside.

The force of her thrust caused you to stumble back and fall on a pile of leaves, blowing and coughing out a crisp leaf that found it’s home inside your mouth. At the force of her thrust toward you, Wednesday found herself collapsed once more on the floor, her body not correctly stabilized from her injury.

“So, not only are you clumsy, but you’re also an idiot.” You sat yourself upright, hands laid down on the floor behind your body to stabilize yourself, all the while watching the conflict in Wednesday’s eyes over whether she should shoot back or keep quiet.

She kept quiet, eliciting a small, almost unnoticeable groan that Wednesday herself didn’t catch at first. You heard it, though, your grin finding it’s way back onto your face as you practically jumped up, brushing yourself off with a flick of your wrists to your neutral- colored clothing.

You furrowed your eyebrows to see Wednesday still sprawled on the floor, expecting her to have risen up by now, even if a limp tagged along. “The big, challenging girl who fought off the reincarnation of Joseph Crackstone years ago can’t get up because of a wound on her knee.”

You spoke in disbelief, and Wednesday turned her head over to you with might. “Don’t you ever mock my accomplishments.”

“Well, we can’t even accomplish the task of finishing our botanical sciences project if you don’t take your small ass up and off the floor.” You bit back.

Fumed with rage and annoyance due to her growing short temper, Wednesday lunged up at you with all the strength she had in her body. The next second, you found your hands wrapped around her waist as you held her upright from falling again, the girl collapsing into your embrace with a snake-like hiss emitting from her.

Another groan came from her, not even bothering to hide it this time, too preoccupied with the futile stinging of her wound and the warming position she found herself in with you. “Alright, back on the floor.”

Her back met the homing place that was the floor once more, shooting daggers at your inexistent attempt to lay her down carefully, seeing as you dropped her onto the floor without care. Her hand found it’s way back to her knee, coating the skin in blood once more, and you sighed. “Move your hand.”

“No.”

“Since when did you become so stubborn?” She raised her eyebrows at you. “Actually, that’s a dumb question, but I’m not going to ask you again. Addams,” your tone became firm, seriousness rising up amidst your former face of humor, “move your hand.”

Her teeth clenched, jawline protruding out, and her eyes were in their usual wide state, as if she were thinking, but her mind was blank. You found impatience creeping up on you, not daring to alert your eyes to her dark red, bloodied hand from her gushing wound.

With a twitch of your eye, your hand shot forward and clamped on Wednesday’s wrist, pulling it away from her wound with force, and she let out a small whimper that she immediately tried to cover with a cough. Your eyes darted up at her for only a second, having heard it, before looking back down at her wound, which was open and wide.

“I will take you to the Infirmary, and then come back and collect all we need for our project.” You said your plan out loud, your eyes darting back and forth between Wednesday’s open wound and the pathway from which you and the girl had just come. “I am fine. Besides, you would only get all the wrong things we need, seeing as how foolish you are.”

“Foolish is what you claim me to be, yet you’re the one consistently in second place.” Without warning, you sank an arm under her bent knees and another under her back, picking her up in bridal style, to which her eyes drastically widened. You felt her tense under you, muscles contracting, and you groaned. 

“Oh, relax. Being tense will only cause your wound to bleed more, and before I know it, I’ll be carrying your dead weight.”

“Put me down this instant.” Wednesday fought, trying to wiggle herself out of your grasp as you started to walk back to the school grounds, leaving your grip on her to tighten. “No. And don’t presume that I care about your wellbeing either, because I don’t.”

She huffed, her leg jerking up when a low branch made contact with her wound. “Then why not allow me to continue with you?”

“If you haven’t noticed, we’re past the forest barriers that Nevermore set.” When she turned her head in response to your signal to the right, she noticed the wooden line fences that were more intended to serve as a signal for students to turn around than as a means of keeping them out.

“Throats get slit in this neck of the woods,” you continued, mindlessly drifting your eyes all over the forest in caution of any inhumane species. “I’d rather not have a Jason Voorhees copycat lunatic trying to slaughter us, and I can’t go far because you’re disabled.”

“It’d be your own death’s fault for trying to save me.” Her deadpanning words made you want to drop her and let her find her own way back to the academy, but you just let out an annoyed breath while gripping onto her thighs tighter. “Forgive me for actually having a beating heart, Addams.”

“You’re not forgiven, (Y/L/N).”

Soon enough, you found yourself back in the forest, with Wednesday’s presence long gone. You were kneeling down, collecting dirt into a small jar that you had sprayed with pesticides to clear it of any lingering bugs. You hadn’t noticed how the time flew past, the sun fading into the moon, and you took a moment to enjoy the stars, hands settled on your dirt-covered knees.

A sound rang through the forested area, causing you to snap your head in the direction of the noise. It was muffled, but it sounded too closely like the howls of the werewolves you’ve grown to make friends with, and that was enough for you to shoot up instantly from your kneeling position. With a sharp breath, you looked up at the moon, now taking on the shape of a full moon, and you gagged in growing fear.

You’re fine, right? They get locked in the Lupen cages; there’s no way one of them could’ve escaped theirs. Your mind raced for explanations as you crouched down to pick up all that you'd collected, ranging from dirt to plants, before taking steady steps in the direction of the academy.

You took precautionary halts so as not to make major noise, cringing in fear at the sound of a leaf loudly crunching under your foot, and you could hear the howls once more, closer this time. 

You took another five steps before you could hear the thudding stomps of a figure inching closer to you with every second, and you thanked nothing else but your heightened senses as you dropped all of what you held and booked it. 

You dodged tree logs and branches left and right, hands fumbling with your satchel to tear it off your body to release the weight it was holding, and your body shook at the thudding sounds ringing in your ears, inching closer and closer-

Until you woke up, spread out on the floor, and your hands dug around the surface of the floor to help you realize that you were still in the woods. Your body still shook, this time more violently as you gasped in pain, stings shooting all over your body and causing your muscles to tighten.

“Fuck!” You groaned out, clenching your stomach where it hurt the most to feel a liquid coating your skin of the same texture that dripped your hands with Wednesday’s blood hours earlier. Your eyes drooped, sullenly coming to the firm realization that you were bleeding out with a liquid you could not even view properly, the night still too dark.

You blamed it all on a werewolf not properly being contained, but if that was the case, why didn’t they kill you instead of merely injuring you? The thought of the beast not being a werewolf flooded out of your mind quicker than it came in. You could see the outline of large claw slits scarring the skin of your stomach, and you yelled out the most mind-scarring shriek as you forced yourself up.

You moaned out, “Oh,” in pain as you sat yourself on a log, scanning the dark forest for any signs of life, human or not, to which there were none, and you sighed in relief. You took off your jacket first before peeling the shredded, blood-stained white shirt off your body, leaving you with just your bra and an exposed, large wound.

Your eyes closed in despair, feeling the pain dull ever so slightly in your relaxing state. You bent over, to your body’s anguish, to grab your bag with a small first aid kit tucked into it. All the items within the mini-kit were dunked out on the log space beside you, and you hurriedly grabbed multiple anti-septic wipes and shredded open the packaging before pressing them onto your skin.

Fangs bared, eyes darkening at the severe pain, you dug them into your bottom lip and swished the wipes over your wounds before letting out a loud yell of agony. You threw the wipes to the floor when they were all left coated with a dark red, grabbing the bandage roll, and with all of your muscles tightening at the pressure, wrapping your stomach with the bandage that immediately turned red before sealing it with tape.

The aftermath was almost pleasurable; the pain was still there but lessened due to the lack of blood flowing out of you. Managing to stumble up, you discarded your bag on the floor before taking a step forward, your body hunching over immediately from the inability to stand upright, and you carried on in the form of a hunchback.

What Wednesday least expected on an early Saturday morning, 3:30 a.m. to be exact, was the sound of her doorknob snapping off from the door itself. Her eyes perked up, sensing danger, and she immediately dug under her pillow to grab the knife she stored there, pointing it forward with the sharp tip ready to plunge itself into whoever dared to intrude into her and Enid’s dorm.

She had only been released from the hospital a few hours prior, so it seemed as though her knee pain had subsided, but when she put her foot on the ground, it suddenly returned. She ignored the discomfort and advanced toward the opening door, ready to strike.

“Wed-” You threw the door open, stopping immediately when the tip of her knife bore into your throat, one step away from slicing into your carotid artery. Even in the harsh darkness, Wednesday could see the fear and agony in your eyes, the way you were breathing heavily and clutching your stomach, and the skin that your bloodied jacket had now covered.

In the dim light of her bedside lamp, she could see your black jacket with a huge damp spot covering it, clamped over by bloodied hands. Her eyes met yours, and you gulped. “I didn’t know who else to come to.”

Wordlessly, she stepped to the side, inviting you in, which you limped into, and she closed the door. Her hand met your shoulder, an odd warmth coating your body despite her cold figure, and she aided you to the bathroom, choosing to disregard the blood trail you were leaving behind.

A sigh left your mouth as you collapsed on the closed-lidded toilet, leaning all your weight on the material. Wednesday pulled out a medical kit from under the sink, one much bigger than the one you had previously used, and slammed it on the countertop. “So much for not trying to wake up Enid.”

“Do you want me to help you or not? Beside, if you even took a second glance around the room, you’d notice Enid is not here, but in a Lupen cage in form.” She spoke in hushed whispers, and you shut up immediately, shrinking under her gaze. You were better than her, yes, but that didn’t mean you didn’t get scared of her from time to time.

“Take off your jacket.” She said simply, still prepping rounds of wipes with anti-septic liquids on them for your bloodied wound, as the wipes you used earlier did not have much of an effect considering the size of them. Wearily, you zipped down your jacket, peeling it off of you with a grunt or two before throwing it away at the base of the bathtub. You laid yourself back, eyes burning into the side of Wednesday’s face, anticipating her moves.

After she had finished prepping the wipes, she grabbed a sewing kit from under the counter, and you gulped at the largely-sized needles that she pulled out along with them. “All I really needed was for you to clean it, Addams. I’m a vampire; I can self-heal.”

“This is merely a precautionary measure to not leave putrid-looking scars.” She placed the items needed beside you, removing her own jacket, and you noticed how she was still in what she considered “casualwear”, seemingly not changing out of her clothes before drifting off to sleep. “Odd coming from the person who has left me with multiple scars, and why didn’t you change?”

“What?”

Wednesday turned, giving you a full visual of her in a button-up shirt and vest, black slacks tucked in and still belted; sleeping couldn’t have been comfortable for her with a belt digging into her hip. “You’re still in your clothes.” You pointed it out, and she looked down at her choice of fashion before letting out a small huff and advancing toward you, taking up position to the right of you.

“I awaited your presence. I told you before that I wanted to get a start on the project so I would not have to do much with class dealing with you and your miserable antics of getting items confused. Not only do you show up empty-handed in the dead of night, but you are also scarred through your inability to defend yourself.”

She badmouthed you, all the while untangling her sewing needles with harsh movements, but you only focused on one aspect of her words. “You fell asleep waiting for me?”

At once, Wednesday halted her movements, giving you a dead look before turning around and grabbing the large anti-septic wipes, swiftly pushing them into your wounded stomach. You let out a long, loud gasp, groaning at the pain and taking hold of Wednesday’s wrist, trying to push her arm back but to no avail. “Don’t get cocky.”

Your head flew back in agony, your hand still clasped around her wrist with a bruising grip. “I wasn’t! I was asking!”

Wednesday glided the wipes along your scars, to your dismay, until there were little to no signs of blood yet, all the while mindlessly running her eyes over the scars on your body that she created.

It was the only way she could get her mind off your exposed torso and how your muscles gallantly flexed from the pain, unwillingly showing themselves off to her.

Your eyes were squinting, still a bit sore from the antiseptics, but when you noticed that Wednesday had not made any other moves, you let them go from your iron grip. Your gaze landed on her stance, lost in thought. “What?”

"I'm in the process of comprehending an attempt to stitch you together while you remain seated, while I, on the other hand, am standing." Her eyes glanced all around the bathroom, sighing contently as she tried to determine a possible way to play surgeon in a comfortable manner.

“Well, I’m not lying on the floor. Your bed?” You inquired, and Wednesday shook her head, her mind discarded by that thought. “I would like to go to sleep tonight in a bloodless bed.”

“Um,” you gulped. The first real situation droning through your head was one anybody wouldn’t dare share with Wednesday. It's a good thing you weren’t like anybody else. “Sit on me.”

Her head snapped to meet your eyes, yours innocently boring into hers, and she squinted. “What?”

“Sit on my lap. When I lean back, you’ll be able to stitch me up or... whatever it is that you plan on doing without breaking your spine.”

You could see the conflict in her eyes, and she took it into consideration, to your surprise. With a pinch to the bridge of her nose and a long, elated sigh, as a means of balance, she placed her hands on each of your shoulders before swinging her left leg over your body and sitting down on your firmly closed legs. 

“Tell nobody about this, or more of these scars,” she said, pinching down on a drawn out scar that sat just right under your bra, “will litter your skin.” You gave her a hasty nod, eager to put your mind elsewhere while your sworn enemy found a seat on your lap.

Without a word of warning, she dug the needle into your skin, causing you to let out an embarrassingly loud yelp of pain. Your hands flew to her shoulders as a matter of instinct, and you half-expected her to shrug them off, but she prioritized her sewing techniques instead.

The further she got into sewing the deep claw marks, the tighter your hands gripped her shoulders. You’d be surprised if Wednesday woke up bruise-free, as you could almost feel your knuckles turning white.

Wednesday found... amusement? The way your eyes closed at her stinging touch, the way your hands buried themselves into her shoulders, and how your thigh muscles tightened under her ass with every swift movement. She loved seeing you defenseless and submissive to her more than anything, finding profit in the means of mocking you later on if you tried to boast about your betterness.

When she had finally finished her stitching, she found herself still lingering on your lap, her movements awfully slow, even for her, to grab a couple large medical bandages and place them over her work. 

“Stay here.” Her voice was low while she slid off your lap, turning to leave the bathroom before returning a minute later with a baggy jacket in her hands. Your eyebrows furrowed as she laid the fabric on your lap, turning to wash her hands of any remaining blood.

You had a little trouble donning the jacket, which was made of Wednesday's fashion choice's baggy material but looked a little more fitted on you because of your lean frame. Your wounds, formerly the only thing clouding your mind, were long gone. You focused on the seriousness of your enemy’s actions, and the oddly warm jacket filled with her natural scent that was now clinging to your body.

“Why?”

“What?”

“When I came here, I fully expected you to push me away.” You leaned your body up on the toilet, hands running through your disheveled hair, and Wednesday directed her attention toward you. “But you didn’t, for some odd reason, and actually helped me—hell, you even sat on me—when you’ve been nothing but the cause of my terror ever since I’ve arrived at this academy.”

It was all nothing but the truth. Two years have passed since you made your flaunting arrival at Nevermore, head held high with nothing else on your mind other than the determination to be the best student the academy had ever seen, and so you accomplished it. Two years had passed since you crossed paths with the deadly Wednesday Addams, her mind still fresh from her praiseful battle with the former overtaker of Jericho.

Two years passed since you beat Wednesday’s boat in the Poe Cup; the Black Cats determined to win their second trophy in a row, and she swore you as her enemy that day when her eyes laid upon your smirking frame with the golden cup in your hand, sending her a wink of confidence that she mentally fumed at.

Two years had passed since Wednesday Addams made the dreadful discovery that, after all, her black, unbeating heart could feel love but that her taste was awful if she found herself attracted to her enemy. Now she found herself in the middle of her last year at Nevermore, freshly 19, and still rummaging in a cat-dog chase game with you.

Two years had passed since she found herself focused on nothing but her enemy, who was in front of her now, sitting on the toilet seat in her bathroom, all patched up, and looking at her with curiosity. “Are you going to continue to stare at me or answer my question?”

“I’m not required to reply to any of your inquiries.” Swiftly, she made her exit out of the bathroom, leaving you to stumble up on your feet and follow behind her like a lost pup. Your body felt awfully tired, though your mind was wide awake and racing with multiple thoughts at once, overloading and ready to explode any second.

“Add-”

“I’ve patched you up,” She moved to close the door to her closet, and in a rut of refusal to make eye contact with you, solemnly afraid that she’d instantly jump your bones- what? “So you may leave now.”

“I’m not leaving until you’ll answer my ‘inquiry’ on why you were nice, at least in my books, to me. You’re avoiding the question.”

You could see the clench in Wednesday’s jaw as she made her way over to her desk, tidying up the workplace in an attempt to distract herself from the conversation that lingered. “I’m unsure as to what you’re saying.”

“Addams-”

“Leave before I do something I’ll regret, (Y/L/N).” She snapped, finally meeting your gaze with wide eyes, and you furrowed your eyebrows. “Since when have you ever regretted something that included me? Did you not tie me to a tree on a full moon and bait me to the werewolves last year?”

Her eyes closed in annoyance. “That’s not what I mean.” And as she rubbed her face, you could almost feel the mixture of stress and uncertainty in her stance, almost as if she were holding back from something.

“Then what do you mean? I’ve known you for two years, and you’ve never failed to reply to me with a full sentence, whether it’s answering my question or barking out a snarky remark. Tell me what’s changed in tha-”

Your eyes were opening and closing rapidly in stress, causing you to not register Wednesday’s frame hurriedly marking toward you until you felt a body collapse into you and a smooth substance on your lips.

Huh?!

Your eyes shot open and wide. To confirm your suspicions, Wednesday’s arms were thrown over your shoulder while her body leaned into yours, and her lips smashed against yours almost desperately.

That’s what she presumed to regret. 

But it was something you longed for, unbeknownst to her, and you made it known when your hands found their way to her cheeks, pulling her in deeper. You could feel her lips tremble slightly in shock, unprepared for you to be pulling her closer instead of pushing her away.

Wednesday’s legs grew a mind of their own, taking steps forward and causing you to step back until the backs of your knees met her bed, and she tore her lips away from you for a breather. You took the separation as an opportunity to sit yourself down on her bed, all while your eyes never left hers in the process, and the smaller girl hurriedly found her former position on your lap.

“The moon is fading. Enid could come back any minute now.” You spoke between kisses, shivering at Wednesday’s cold touch on your warm skin, her hands slithering underneath the jacket you wore to rub up and down your back. “Then she’ll leave again, because she’s not going to enjoy what she’ll see.”

Your body visibly shivered at her words, or maybe it was just her fingers dancing along your spine, but either way, you found yourself completely engulfed in her and just her. The claw marks, the time, the physical confession—all of it was gone from your mind as Wednesday mindlessly pushed herself even farther into you.

She took a push too close, her body pressing up against your wound, causing you to groan and bite down on her bottom lip, fangs bared from the pain. Your lips never separated, instead pushing farther into them at the feeling and taste of Wednesday’s blood filling your mouths from her punctures, only spurring the two of you further.

“Lay down.” You obeyed immediately, finding nothing more hot in the moment than the husk in the smaller girl's voice, and manuevered from under her plushy thighs on top of you to lay comfortably on her bed. You were engulfed in her natural scent once more—the same scent you had grown accustomed to for over two years now, the scent that followed you everywhere you went.

You adored it, just as you adored her behind your hardening gaze most days.

Her eyes were narrowed, and you would have thought she was tired any other day, but you knew her look was one of need and want. Lust, to put it short, and you wanted nothing more than to fulfill her need, even if it meant submitting yourself to her in a situation you'd never thought you’d willingly put yourself in.

Just as she had earlier, she slid off your lap with a lingering touch on your hips. “Stay here.” 

And as quickly as she left, she returned, though this time with an item in her hand, and you knew exactly what it was. Your eyes widened, and your mouth drew open. Already?

“Yes, already.” Did you say that out loud? “You’d find me pathetic if you knew how long I have deferred using this. To use it on you.” Her eyes were filled with a dark, unmanageable lust that swam through her veins, and you could only imagine the scenarios that swarmed through your head. This wasn’t the Wednesday you knew, but it was one you anticipated figuring out.

“But I can’t just use this on you immediately, no.” A smug grin came across her lips—a sight that you, or really anybody else, rarely ever saw, and it was one you wanted to see more of. “No, I have to prep you, don’t I?”

“Prep me?” You asked, genuine curiosity lacing your voice, and her grin grew wider. “I’ll show you.”

Wednesday positioned herself back on your lap, putting the erotic object on her nightstand, within reach for later use, before pulling you into another kiss. It was bruising, and the kiss was ten times more harsh than before, but you would never complain about her being pressed up against you.

While you found yourself entrapped in her lips, her hands slithered down your body and toward your pants, grabbing the buckle of your belt and undoing it at a steady pace. That’s when it dawned on you—she was going to prep you for an object that withheld some... girth.

Your muscles tensed at the thought, and more so at the feeling of Wednesday pulling down your black jeans with ease, discarding your shoes in the process of leaving your bottom half in just your underwear. “Wednesday…”

She was simple. “Relax.” 

On the down low, she knew that this was your first time engaging with somebody sexually, never failing to notice your soft rejections of the girls and guys that tried to woo you on and failed miserably. It was an aspect she enjoyed even more now, and she wanted nothing more than to rub in the faces of all you rejected that they couldn’t get you to agree to a date, but yet she had you writhing underneath her, moaning her name.

Your breathing grew heavier as the seconds went by, hitching when Wednesday moved your underwear to the side with a slow itch of her hands, and you wanted nothing more than to grab her by the head and bury her in your heat. The lack of restraint you were feeling was lethal and ultimately surprising for a girl who rarely ever even masturbated.

“Such a possessing view.” She murmured in a low tone, her eyes dancing all around your core, and your cheeks flushed at her staring. Her eyes locked with yours, her mind racing at the sight of your eyes narrowed and staring down at her with silent pleads, and those pleads she fulfilled when her tongue darted out to take a swipe at your folds.

You whimpered in a tone around an octave higher than your usual voice, and your eyes widened at the sound that unwillingly left your mouth. It seemed to spur Wednesday on, allowing her to dart her tongue out once more and flick it over your clit, the nub that she wanted nothing more than to swell up with her mouth.

You let out another whimper—louder and needier this time around. “And sensitive. I can put that to use.” She dove her head farther into your heat, her lips wrapping around your clit and taking a harsh suck at the nub. Your thighs shut around her head, eyes never leaving one another, while she feverishly sucked your clit, needing to hear more of the high-pitched whines that left your mouth.

She pulled away soon after, to your dismay that you showed through your pleading whines, to allow a bead of spit to drip out of her mouth and onto your entrance, before taking her finger and rubbing her spit around the area. Your hips instinctively bucked up at the sensation, feeling yourself clench around nothing, and it made Wednesday want to elicit a laugh.

“The way I’m touching you now is a major privilege alone.” Her finger sank into your entrance, and she bit down lightly at the plushness of your thighs when she felt your velvety walls tighten around her. “I adore watching you like this underneath me; you make me want to fuck you braindead.”

She sank her finger into you until her knuckle bared against your heat, curling the bony stature inside of you and eliciting a light moan out of you. You already found yourself on edge from her husky words alone, and the curl of her finger inside of you didn’t help you from almost cumming embarrassingly fast.

“Already close? What a shame; I wanted to have fun toying with you.” Her mouth against her core made you moan from the vibrations, hands flying to grip her head menacingly and push her farther into you, almost crying out for the whole hall to hear when she slipped a second finger into you.

Her fingers picked up pace, thrusting in and out of you with force while the squelching sounds of your slick covering your walls made Wednesday feel a pit of need start to boil in her stomach, one that she desired to fulfill.

The two-on-two action on your core made you clench impossibly tight on Wednesday’s fingers, the ravenhead finding difficulty in her repeated movements. “Want to cum, yeah?”

You nodded profusely, your face growing red from your need for release and the way she released her lips from your clit with a pop. A small grin formed on her face when she pulled out of you, relishing in your whines of despair.

Eyes closed, heavy breathing—you were too blissed out, despite not achieving an orgasm from her underlying teasing, to notice Wednesday sliding off you, strapping the former item in her hand to her core. Her eyes never left your face as she strapped the item on, feeling more than fired up to make you scratch down her back with pitiful whines leaving your mouth.

And so, that’s what she achieved, eyes closing from the burning pains of your nails digging deep into her shoulders down to the middle of her back. Her own mind felt foggy watching the way her silicone became drenched in your arousal, the strap pumping in and out of you with ease, and the way you moaned straight into her ear—god, she regretted never taking your submissive state for profit more early.

Your thighs clenched around her hips when she bottomed into you, settled on her knees, and bent over slightly to curl the strap inside of you, hitting an unfamiliar spongy spot that had you sinfully whining with a hand clenched on Wednesday’s head. “If the entirety of humanity could merely glimpse you in your current state, they would swiftly recognize your rare moment of submissiveness,” her lips dove down, meeting your ear, “all submissive just for me.”

Her movements grew hard, her hands gripping your skin with a bruising force while her hips drove into you with no relent, finding a need for her own release. The so-called “devil” found herself groaning heavy breaths into your ear, all the while slipping a soft moan or two in that she couldn’t hold. The feeling of you finally beneath her, pleading and scratching at her for release, felt ethereal; all of her senses were on cloud nine, and it ignited a burrowed-down spark.

One of Wednesday’s hands removed from your skin, leaving behind darkened marks that would worsen with time to connect with your cheek, the slap making you roll your eyes back at how dirty it felt. “No connected nerves, and I can still feel you pulsating on me; you’re driving me crazy with it.” 

Your moans were muffled at the feeling of the ravenhead’s fingers shoving deep into your mouth, bypassing your uvula, causing a gag to ensue. Your lips wrapped around the digits, absentmindedly biting on them when the pit in your stomach started to burn like wildfire, making you tighten around the raven’s strap and force her to slow her movements, though still managing a speedy pace. 

“Don’t cum.”

The words you wished never left her mouth made you whine around her fingers; your body was too sensitive from your lack of sexual activity and masturbation over the years, making it almost impossible to fight your orgasm off. Her fingers briefly exited your mouth, only to slap your cheek once more before returning to their original location. “Just for a bit.”

The hold-off was tortuous; the muscles in your body tightened incredulously while your mouth pathetically sucked on Wednesday’s fingers in a pathetic attempt to tear your mind away from your orgasm. It didn’t work. 

The overloading, burning sensation in your stomach was almost uncomfortable; the fire burned longer than it intended to while you made putrid eye contact with the roof, Wednesday’s head snug to the side of yours while she drew herself closer to her own orgasm. The words that made  you sigh in relief, your body shaking after seconds of torture, finally came past the girl’s lips, and you adored them.

“Cum for me, la mia dolce metà.”

You obeyed immediately, allowing your muscles to untighten, and Wednesday’s fingers left your mouth, allowing you to spew out a large moan that, without a doubt, woke the entire hall up. Your hands dug into her shoulders, feeling her shudder over you from her own orgasm, though the only thing that left her mouth was heavy pants.

Alas, she pulled out of you after seconds of relishing in one another’s embrace, making you feel empty compared to just minutes ago. The tip of Wednesday’s cock directed to your swollen clit from her previous oral actions, pushing down with enough pressure to make your toes curl and a breathy sigh leave your mouth.

Wednesday had pulled herself up by now, and it was only then that you noticed the girl taking a mental screenshot of your body, more specifically your core and the way your cum leaked out of you at a snail's pace. She licked her lips at the sight, her eyes flickering up to meet yours, and you gulped.

“La mia dolce metà,” she whispered, hands running down your body and to your hips, “I’m not done with you just yet.” The edges of her lips tugged ever so slightly when she dipped her head down to meet your core, leaving you to moan with delight as your hand found it’s way back to her hair.

[protectingpluto]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ riding Ford and getting multiple orgasms out of him 

author note: a little request from ao3 “Reader (by the request of Bill) riding Ford and getting multiple orgasms out of him, basically typical overstimulation stuff? :]” 

tags: nsfw, p in v, riding, overstimulation, praise and degrading, triangle!Bill, tendrils

little bonus to this fic

It’s not just about the way he looks at you when you’re close, or how he touches you like he’s unsure if he deserves it. It’s the little things, those soft gasps he lets slip when you press your lips to his skin as you tease him, the way his hands tremble when you pull him closer, whispering praises in his ear. 

Tonight, though, you want more than just the sweetness. You want him broken, to see the desperation in his eyes, to hear him beg. You want to take your time, savour him, consume him whole. It’s not just about pleasure; it’s about watching Stanford fucking Pines fall apart, piece by piece, under your touch. 

He’s always been the reserved one, the serious one, always ready to protect you at all costs, the intellectual, the scientist who can’t seem to let go of his fears and doubts. But with you, Ford is different. He lets go of his mask, just a little, and it makes you want him even more. 

You start slow, leaning close, kissing his beautiful lips with a tenderness that quickly turns into something deeper as you climb into his lap. It takes Ford’s breath away, and you pull him closer, your hands caressing his chest, guiding him onto his back. 

“Relax,” you murmur, kissing the corner of his mouth, then trailing your lips along his jawline, the scratch of his stubble against your skin making you smile. His chest rises and falls sharply beneath your palms, and you can feel his heart racing, how it betrays his nerves.

“Darling. . .” dear god, his voice is already trembling, his nails digging into your skin just enough to show he’s trying to hold back. But you know it’s only a matter of time before he crumbles. Ford lets out a quiet sound as you kiss him again, this time deeper, your tongue coaxing his lips apart.

You move to his neck, lips pressing delicate kisses along the curve of his throat. He tilts his head back, letting you explore, giving you more space and skin to mark. “You’re so beautiful like this,” you whisper, dragging your tongue over the spot where his pulse thrums wildly captivating beneath his skin.

He shudders as you nip gently. “Darling, sweetheart. . .” Ford’s always-so-calm voice is now already broken with anticipation, and it makes you proud of yourself. “you’re. . . quite bold tonight, aren’t you?” he smiles awkwardly.

“Bold? Sweetheart’s not bold, IQ. She’s fucking feral. Look at her, climbing all over you like she’s about to eat you alive!” Bill’s voice cuts through Ford’s mind like a razor. 

Ford groans softly, tilting his head back, arching as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, flicking your tongue out to taste the sensitive skin there and lick the little bites you made. “Y-you don’t need to rush, love,” he stammers, though the way his cock throbs beneath you tells a different story. 

“Oh, Sixer, would you relax? You’ve got a total bombshell in your lap and you’re too busy being a nerd! Just sit back and let ’er take the reins, huh?”

You laugh softly, pressing your hips down just enough to make him gasp. “Rush? But I’ve been thinking about this all day.” 

“Christ, nerd, she’s fucking desperate! You’d better not disappoint her, though that’d be hilarious.”

Ford flinches, his hands tightening their hold on you, but you soothe him, threading your fingers into his graying hair. “Hey,” you say softly, calming him with a kiss to his temple. “It’s just us tonight, okay? Let me take care of you. I want to make you feel good.”

Ford knows you aren’t alone, but he nods, letting himself sink further into your warm touch. 

The kisses grow deeper, more demanding, your tongue sliding against his as you press your body closer, feeling him hard and throbbing beneath you, so needy already. You grind down against him, a slow roll of your hips that makes him gasp, his head tipping back into the pillows. 

“Darling,” he chokes out, “y-you don’t have to— ahh. . .”

“Shhh,” you soothe, your hands running down his chest, caressing his pretty scars gently, feeling the tension in his body. “let me love you, Ford.”

And with that, you kiss your way lower, down his collarbone, leaving marks as you go. Your fingers find his belt, and he stiffens beneath you.

“Don’t be nervous,” you giggle, kissing another scar on his chest as you slowly undo the buckle. “I’ll be gentle.” 

“That’s pathetic, Sixer. Don’t tell me you’ll cum before she even gets your pants off.” 

He can’t even speak, just nod and watch you with desperation written all over his face as you free his cock from the confines of his pants. Poor man squirms beneath you, all six fingers sliding over your body, unsure of what to do. But you feel like heaven and he could stay like this forever.

Ford’s cock springs free, and he exhales sharply at the sudden exposure. His painfully hot length makes contact with the cool air, and it’s all too much, too fast. He’s achingly hard, his shaft twitching against his stomach, already leaking from how worked up he is. The veins bulge slightly beneath his skin, a visual testament to his desperation. You bite your lip, unable to hide your smile as you run your thumb over the sensitive tip, spreading the bead of precum. His entire body jerks under your touch, hips bucking helplessly as a strangled cry escapes him. 

“Oh, come on, Stanford. You’re shaking already? She’s barely touched you!”

“Please, please don’t stop, I need more. . . ahh, ahnn. . .” Ford’s head falls back.

You give him what he wants. Ford's cock twitches helplessly in your grip as you wrap your fingers around his thickness, stroking him slowly from base to tip. Your thumb brushes over the sensitive, leaking tip again and you smirk. “You’re so hard,” you murmur, admiration lacing your voice as Ford’s moans fill the room. His hips buck upward, driven by desperate need.

“Oh, this is gonna be interesting. Place your bets, sweetheart! Two thrusts? One? How long before Sixer cums like the pathetic man he is?”

Ford whimpers, the sound breaking and soft, so damn apologetic. It only makes you want to ruin him more. And Ford wants it, he wants all of it, all of you.

He shudders, his hands gripping the sheets in a futile attempt to hold onto control. But it’s slipping away fast. “Darling, please, please—”you cut him off with a kiss, your lips crashing into his and swallowing his moans. Your hand continues stroking him, never relenting, only giving him more pleasure.

“God, Ford,” you whisper against his lips, pulling away just enough to watch his needy beautiful face. “You’re so big. . . I can’t wait to feel you inside me.”

Ford’s eyes flutter open, locking onto yours. God, he looks wrecked already, lips trembling, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide with desire.

“Aw, look at you two lovebirds. Makes me sick. No, really, keep going, I’m enjoying the show.”

You smile, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Does that feel good?” you coo, your grip tightening around his aching cock.

“Y-yes,” he whines helplessly. “so good! oh goddd—” the proof of it lies in the way his whole body trembles, his thighs tense beneath you, and your hand slick with his leaking precum. He thrusts up into your grip and he’s losing it. 

But it’s not enough for you. You need more. Your free hand slides down to your own heat, tugging your panties aside. You spread yourself open for him, letting him see everything, how wet you are, how your pussy clenches on nothing, dripping and desperate. “Look at me, Ford. Look at what you do to me.” 

Ford’s eyes snap open at your words, and the sight nearly undoes him. His cock jerks in your hand, more precum spilling onto your fingers. “Honey, you’re s-so beautiful. I— I love you so much. . .” 

“Touch me,” you demand, though it comes out as a plea when you guide one of his six-fingered hands between your thighs. His fingers tremble as they slide against your wet folds. Another groan tears from his throat when he feels how soaked you are.

“Right here,” you beg, pressing his fingertips to your clit. A soft moan escapes you as he begins to circle it, biting his lip.

“At least pretend you know what you’re doing, Sixer. Fake it for her sake!”

Ford’s long fingers move tentatively at first, spreading your wetness. “You’re so wet,” he stutters in awe.

“For you, Ford, only for you,” you whisper, grinding against his hand. 

Ford’s touch grows bolder with every needy sound you make, his thumb finding just the right pressure on your puffy clit. Two fingers slide lower, teasing your dripping entrance. He swallows thickly, his gaze locked on yours as his long digits press into you. Ford curls his fingers inside, brushing that perfect spot that makes you cry out, your walls fluttering around him.

His cock throbs in your other hand, twitching, begging to feel your pussy around him. Pearls of cum drip down his length, making everything so deliciously messy. Your thumb rubs over the sensitive tip in rhythm with the way you ride his hand and it’s too much for him. 

“Darling, please. I— I need to be inside you. Pleasepleaseplease. . .”

You smile as another soft moan escapes your lips. Leaning down to kiss him again, swallowing his desperate mewls, you line his cock with your pussy. The thick, leaking tip presses against your dripping entrance, twitching there, so hot and ready to fill you.

“Do you want this?” you tease, letting the head of his cock slip just barely inside. 

“Ye-yes!” Ford gasps, his hips jerking upward. “Please, love! I’ll do anything. Just please—” 

You don’t make him wait any longer because yourself can’t too. Slowly, you lower yourself onto him, feeling the delicious stretch as you sink down, inch by inch. Your pussy takes him in, wetness welcoming him, the thickness of him stretching you in the most perfect way, leaving you breathless as you take all of him. Your walls flutter around his cock, gripping him tight and you both let out matching moans when he fills you completely.

Ford’s reaction is fucking beautiful. His hands fly to your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as his head falls back, a choked sob spilling from his lips. “Oh god! I can feel everything, fuck, love, you’re so tight, so warm. . .”

The moment you start to move, Ford’s entire body goes rigid, his breath breaking into soft, helpless gasps as he just lays there and lets you ride him. He tries to hold it together, but it’s useless. You’re too much, too perfect, too wet and tight for him, and he doesn’t even know what to do with himself anymore.

And then he’s coming. His hips buck uncontrollably, his cock throbbing as he spills inside you, a pathetic whine leaving his lips. 

You freeze, your eyes wide as you stare down at him, suddenly aware of his warm seed inside you. Ford. . . did he just. . .?

“Oh my fucking god, you actually came?! Holy shit, Sixer, I wasn’t serious about the two-thrust thing, but damn! You’re even more pathetic than I thought!” 

Ford’s face burns with shame as he buries it in his hands. “I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

“What’s wrong? Oh, nothing at all, Fordsy. Couldn’t even last five seconds, huh? That’s embarrassing.”

You can’t help but laugh, though it’s a soft, affectionate sound unlike Bill’s. “Ford,” you say gently, cupping his cute face and tilting it up to meet your gaze. “It’s okay. Really. It just means you felt really good, honey. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.” 

“Nah, you should be ashamed of yourself, IQ. But judging by that stupid look on your face, you’re too far gone to care.”

Oh, sweet heavens, he thinks, you’re too kind to him. Your hands slide up his chest, tangling in his hair as you kiss him again, your lips soft and loving, taking all his embarrassment away. His head is thrown back against the pillows, his eyes glassy, lips trembling like he’s trying to speak but can’t string a single coherent word together. 

“You feel— you feel, ahh. . . so fucking good, Ford,” you breathe as you bounce on him. Ford’s eyes roll back into his head, and he groans. You lean down, stroking his cheek with a tender hand, kissing him sweetly. “Shhh, you’re doing so good, baby,” you whisper, rolling your hips again, feeling his cock pulse as you grind down on him. 

“She’s fucking herself stupid on your cock, and you’re still useless. Can’t even thrust properly anymore, can you? Just lying there, letting her ride you like the limp little mess you are.”

Ford’s hands twitch at your waist like he wants to protest but can’t find the strength. “Pussy’s s-so good,” he mumbles, his words slurred as though he’s drunk. “so tight, so warm. . .”

“Jesus fucking Christ, listen to yourself,” Bill cackles. “You’re out here worshipping pussy like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen one. All that brainpower, and you’re fucking useless when there’s a pretty cunt on top of you!”

Ford only whimpers, his face burning from Bill’s cruel mocking, because himself knows its truth, his cock twitches inside you at the words. Despite the shame, he thrusts up helplessly, chasing more, trying to reach deeper, even though he’s so far gone. 

“Does it feel good, Ford?” you murmur, leaning down to kiss his nose.

“Yesyesyes! yes! so fucking good,” he gasps, bucking his hips whenever you pull yourself up. “I c-can’t, oh, love, I don’t think I can last—” 

“Look at you,” Bill sneers. “All it takes is a tight cunt and a few rolls of her hips. What happened to the big, smart scientist? Where’s Mr. Genius now, huh?”

“It’s okay, Ford. You don’t have to hold back.” 

He can’t stop the whining that spills from his lips, so damn loud, his head tipping back to expose his throat. You seize the opportunity, pressing your lips to his pulse, kissing and sucking until his gasps dissolve into desperate cries. His cock twitches violently inside you, and then his entire body shudders again when he cums inside you with a pleading moan. 

“Oh god,” he whimpers, the realisation hitting him hard. His hands tremble on your waist as he looks up at you, his vision blurry. “I-I’m sorry! I couldn’t—” 

You don’t bother with words. Instead, you kiss him deeply, your hips still moving. Ford lets out a sharp, choked sound as you continue to ride him, your pussy clenching greedily around his now oversensitive cock. 

“W-wait, I. . . oh, fuck, love, wait. . .” 

But you don’t stop. 

“That’s it, you can give me more, can’t you? I know you can, Ford. Please.” 

Ford cries out from the overstimulation, helpless and weak to the way how your pussy swallow all what he gives you. His hands fall uselessly to the bed as you take complete control, but his cock staying rock hard, buried deep inside you. Each slow roll of your hips makes his tip brush against your cervix, what also makes you moan loudly.

“Oh m-my god,” you grind harder, obsessed with how heavenly his cock fills you. “look at you, you’re such a mess. . .”

Ford can’t even respond. He’s too lost in the way your pretty pussy feels, pulling him deeper, clenching around him tight. His mouth hangs open, breathless, his trembling fingers dig into your hips, your ass, trying to pull you closer, but the effort is weak, desperate. 

“I. . . oh, I c-can’t,” he stutters your name. “I— I can’t hold on. . . please, please, I— I can’t, just. . .”

Bill chuckles. “My little slut is so goddamn desperate he can’t even form a fucking sentence.”

You smirk, pressing your body closer to Ford’s, grinding into him in time with his shallow thrusts. His cock twitches inside you again, his body practically begging for another release but he feels like nothing might come out.

“I love seeing you like this,” you purr. “all you can think about is cumming, isn’t it?” 

His eyes are glazed, he doesn’t try to answer, he just nods desperately, the sounds escaping his lips a garbled mess. 

“I. . . I need you, da-darling. Please, ahh, please! Don’t stop. God, don’t stop, please! Don’t stop. . . It feels so good, im so close!”

“Yes, let it all out, baby. Don’t hold back. You’re such a good boy for me, Ford.” 

“Yes, yes, please, too much!” his begging is broken, barely coherent, his words dissolving into needy little whimpers. “I need to. . . mhmm, need to cum inside you! nnghn, please, let me—” 

“Aw, isn’t that sweet? He’s so eager to fill you up, he doesn’t even care how pathetic he looks.”

“Yes,” you murmur, leaning down to capture Ford’s lips. “Please cum inside me, Ford, again. Please. . .”

And that’s how he comes again, so obedient. It slams into him like a tidal wave, his cock pulsing deep inside you, spilling into your womb again and again, filling you up, flooding your walls white. He’s not even sure if he has the strength left to moan, his throat is dry.

“Look at you. Shaking, crying, and cumming like it’s the only thing you know how to do. Now that’s the kind of Sixer I like.”

But you don’t stop. He can’t take much more, but you don’t give him a choice. You fuck him harder this time, harder than before, your body slapping against his with each thrust, the sounds of your bodies joining in perfect sync.

You feel his cum dripping out, pooling where your bodies are joined and it’s so dirty and messy there, but you keep moving, grinding against him, chasing your own release now, using Ford for your pleasure now. 

“Such a good boy,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss his temple. “You’re doing so well, Ford. I love you so much.” 

“Sweetheart,” Ford’s voice already hoarse. “I need you, I need you so bad, I— I can’t. . .”

Bill's triangular shape appears directly to Ford's left. “Told ya, two seconds and you’re already a fucking puddle. You’re sobbing and begging like a fucking whore. You like it, huh? You like being used like this?” 

Ford’s body is completely undone as he turns head to look at Cipher, his words barely intelligible. “Y-yes. . . yes. . . I’m a whore. . . love, please, I’m— I’m cumming again. . .”

Before he can finish, it hits him. His cock pulses inside you, spilling another load deep into your pussy. Ford cries out as you keep riding him, milking every last drop out of him. His hands weakly grip your hips, but his body is limp, overwhelmed by the force of his orgasm. 

You smile, feeling his warm liquid until it starts leaking out from how full you are. Leaning down, your lips brush his ear. “You like it, don’t you, Ford? Being so deep inside me, cumming inside me, filling me up. . . gosh, im so close too. . .”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Bill interrupts. “You two are useless. Let me show you how it’s done.”

Before either of you can react, his awfully slick, dark tendrils shoot out, snaking around your bodies. You gasp as one wraps around your thighs, while another slithers up to your clit, teasing the sensitive bundle with agonizing flicks. Another tendril brushes over your breasts, curling around them tightly before twisting and tugging at your nipples in agonising rhythm.

Ford isn’t spared, either. Tendrils wrap around his wrists roughly, pulling his arms above his head and pinning him to the bed, so he’s pretty useless beneath you as he’s forced to stay still, another tendril cups his balls, rolling and kneading them. Dark limb wraps around his torso, circling his nipples before pinching them sharply, then caressing. Ford lets out a broken cry, tears springing to his eyes from the overstimulation. 

“Look at you both,” Bill sneers and his voice is filled with nothing, but pure mockery. “a mewling little slut and a pathetic, whining mess of a man. Poor little humans can’t handle a bit of attention, huh? You’re both so fucking needy. You don’t even deserve this.”

You try to respond, try to form words, but all that escapes your lips is a whimper. The tendril on your clit vibrates suddenly, the slick, wet sound of your soaked pussy taking Ford in only fuels Bill’s mocking tone as he forces you to ride his six-fingered toy faster.

You can’t answer, you can’t think. All that matters is that pathetic whining mess called Ford beneath you, twitching and moaning, his body held immobile by Bill’s tendrils as you ride him, taking him deeper and deeper, feeling yourself close.

“Your cunt? Your cock? Your orgasms? Mine. Every last bit of you belongs to me.”

Your back arches, hands clawing at Ford’s chest to stabilise yourself, but it’s no use. The sensations are too much, your body too sensitive and overstimulated to fight back.

“Oh, please, it’s too much, B-Bill,” you manage to choke out, but even as you beg, your hips buck helplessly into the tendril, chasing the overwhelming pleasure despite the way your thighs shake. 

“Remember this moment, freaks, because you’ll never be able to fuck without thinking of me again.”

Ford isn’t faring any better, ruined by every flick of the tendrils on his nipples and the painful stimulation of his balls.

“B-Bill, my muse, please, stop, I can’t, I c-can’t take it,” he’s breathless, his voice breaks on every syllable. His words are desperate, but his body betrays him, his cock twitching as the tendrils toy with him. “I’ll. . .I’ll cum again, im gonna. . .”

“Oh, you’ll cum again, alright,” demon laughs. “And again. And again. Don’t think I’m letting either of you off easy.”

Bill shifts his attention to you, the tendrils around your clit and breasts tightening, pulling your nipples painfully before switching to gentle, torturous strokes. Your cries fill the room and Bill’s laughter only grows louder. 

“And you, beautiful,” his glowing yellow form leans closer to your face. “You’re no better. Moaning like a bitch in heat while I play with you. Can’t even decide if you want me to stop or go harder, huh? You’re just a messy little thing like him, aren’t you?”

You try to glare at him, but your head falls back with a loud moan as the vibrations on your sensitive clit intensify. The pleasure so sharp it borders on pain. “I’m gonna! oh fuck, I’m gonna cum! Bill, just let me cum!”

“Already, baby? Does it feel that good, having me play with your little clit while poor Sixer can barely keep up?” Cipher appears right in front of you way and his tendrils slow their movements just enough to pull you back from the edge, leaving you trembling and whining in frustration, the orgasm just out of reach when you was so ready for it.

Ford sobs as he feels your cunt grip on him. “B-Bill, please, please, oh god, it’s too much, I c-can’t hold on, please, let me cum, I need to— please! It-it hurts!”

“‘Need to’? Oh, how cute! You need to cum, Sixer? But you wanted to be a pathetic, trembling mess, no? Then I’ll make sure you fucking stay one.” Ford cant believe he’s being denied to orgasm now, when his balls are so tight he might explode. The tendrils on his nipples twist sharply.

You’re no better as your body helpless against these Bill’s disgusting things that tease and torment you mercilessly too. “P-please, I can’t take it anymore, I need to cum, please, Bill, please!” you cry.

Bill leans back, materializing a glass of wine for himself, laughing loudly as he watches. “Listen to yourselves. Begging me like the pathetic little toys you are. God, you’re both so fucking easy to break, it’s even boring.” 

His glowing yellow form looms over you both when his voice lowers. 

“Don’t worry, freaks, I’m not stopping until I’ve ruined you completely.”

[protectingpluto]

Hit Me Where It Hurts The Most p.4 | S.B.

feat. Sirius Black x Rowle!reader

SUMMARY: You attend the Lestrange Gala on Rabastan's arm, finally making your family proud. But all things must come to the light, and with time running out, a decision must be made.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, pure blood ideology, manipulative and abusive families, angst angst angst, protective!Sirius, hurt/comfort, HEA

AN: wow! this is long! but ahhh! can't believe we've reached the final part of the series!! but don't worry, I'm not done with this one quite yet...

series navigation | part one | part two | part three | masterlist

You tried to focus on the book in your lap, but the words were swimming on the page, taking the shape of your argument with Sirius.

He's lying to you.

You don't understand.

Please don't leave.

He'd been so passionate, so single-minded in his desire for you—it scared the shit out of you. His words were pretty, his intentions righteous, but was that enough?

For so long, the story of your life has been drilled into your head. Over and over and over again. A wealthy man's wife, the jewel of his crown, the mother of his children, keeper of the bloodline.

What were you beyond that? Who were you, if not obedient?

The train rolled loudly beneath you, the Scottish country side a blur of green and gray. It was a long weekend, and it seemed loads of students were taking advantage.

Before boarding, you caught a glimpse of James and Sirius with some bags waiting in a patch of sunshine. Of course James Potter would use a free weekend to visit his parents.

Sirius was puffing on a cigarette, staring down at the tracks while James talked animatedly about something you couldn't hear. He looked…sad. And you turned away, following your brother onto the back of the train.

You were in a compartment with Thorfinn, his long legs stretched out and resting on the cushion beside you, his head lolled against the window. But you knew he wasn't sleeping, because his snores would rattle the windows more than the train.

He was oddly quiet, though, and the threat of danger buzzed like a gnat around your head. You wished you'd insisted on sharing at compartment with Rab, but Thorfinn dragged you away before you could open your mouth.

“What are you staring at?” He gruffed, peaking open one of his eyes to peer at you.

You hurriedly looked down at your book, but it was too late. He pushed himself up, cracking his thick neck before bracing his elbows on his knees and leaning towards you.

“We need to talk.”

You closed your book, setting it aside with trembling fingers. “What about?”

He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. A bizarrely human gesture of discomfort. “Father wrote two weeks ago, the—the business is not going well.”

Your stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”

It looked like it genuinely pained him to be telling you this, and your addled mind couldn't begin to decipher it. “We're running out of money, y/n. Rapidly. If things continue, we may lose…” he trailed off, staring down at his fine leather shoes. “We may lose everything.”

“Why are you just telling me this now?” You asked, voice tight with fear. Was there anything secure in your life anymore? At every turn, if seemed danger and uncertainty lurked.

All you ever wanted was safety, and that seemed more impossible by the day.

“I didn't want it to affect—” he waved vaguely towards the closed compartment door. Towards Rabastan. “I didn't want it to be a factor. Father told me to keep it from you, but sister—” he reached for your hand, the bandage removed by Madame Pomfry that morning, and it took every ounce of willpower you'd built to not pull away. “You may be our last hope.”

You shook your head, tears springing to your eyes. “I can't, Thor—”

“You already are,” he said. “With the Lestrange's on our side, Father can turn this around. Save our family.”

You held his icy gaze, shocked by what was transpiring. Thor hadn't spoken to you like this in…Merlin, years? He'd become so tight-lipped, so hostile, you'd forgotten that there was man inside that brutal, glacial exterior.

But…was he a man you trusted?

“I should go to him now, then,” you said, the compartment suddenly stifling. “Have some quiet time before the party.”

Thorfinn nodded. “I'm not supposed to allow unsupervised meetings, but…this once I can let it slide.”

“Thank you, brother.” You leaned forward to kiss his cheek, surprising him, before slipping out of the compartment before he changed his mind.

You slumped against the wall, catching your breath and wiping tears from your cheeks. How had this all ended up on your shoulders? Your family, your future, your feelings, Sirius’ feelings—it was too much.

All you ever wanted was safety. Security.

For a moment of delirious hope you thought about tracing down Sirius’ compartment, begging him to take you to the Potter Manor with him. Let yourself want him as recklessly as he did you. But what Sirius offered was a pipedream, a fantasy, and you'd always been a practical girl.

You could only see one reality laid before you. Unrolled like a red carpet at your feet.

No matter how you felt about Sirius, how much you felt for him, could you risk everything for a shot at something as fickle as love?

What happened when he got tired of you in six months? When the novelty wore off? When the heat of an illicit affair turned tepid and stale?

Sirius would resent you. You would resent him. It could only end in heartbreak for the both you. Could only end in pain.

You raped a knuckle on the door of Rabastan's compartment.

“Come in,” he called, sounding a bit distracted.

You slid open the door, peaking your head in. “Am I disturbing you?”

He closed the book in his lap, setting aside the quill in his hand for notes. Dressed in luxurious clothes, even for a train ride he thought he'd be spending alone. “Never, darling. Are you alright?”

You sat on the cushion beside him, his dark eyes sweeping over you, tangible as a caress. “Thorfinn is snoring too loud for me to think straight,” you lied. “And I thought maybe we could spend some time together, before tonight?”

He smiled, turning so his back was braced against the train window and he was facing you, one leg propped up on the seat. It was a casual position, spread out and languid, and your cheeks flushed with heat at the near indecency of it.

Rabastan never did anything by mistake, and this was no exception. His perceptive eyes watched your reaction, and something sinful flickered to life in them as the blush stained your skin.

“Your brother was under strict orders to prevent unsupervised interactions,” Rab pointed out, tilting his head slightly.

“We'll be in London by the time he wakes up, he won't even notice,” you replied.

He made a soft, contemplative sound in his throat. “I didn't take you for the rebellious type, little doe.” He pushed his dark hair back from his face, revealing every sharp angle and curve, a face carved by the Goddess Aphrodite herself. Flawless.

You'd make beautiful, perfectly pureblood children, that was for sure. Not that you cared much for that, beauty or blood status, and you hadn't ever really contemplated whether you wanted children. It was just what was done.

“I'm not, usually,” you said. “I'm not sure what's come over me.” At least that wasn't entirely a lie.

“You always have this lost look in your eye,” he murmured. “Beautiful, fuck, you're beautiful. But sad, aren't you?”

His words struck a chord, tears brimming once more, weighing down the buoyancy of his praise.

You were so tired of being sad all the time, afraid. You just wanted to forget for awhile, and just be.

Rab shifted, setting his feet on the ground and moving closer to you. His hand came up to cup your cheek, turning your face towards him. “Darling, I could make you so happy.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, achingly tender, and a sob wrenched itself from your chest. “Sh, sh, my love, it's alright now.” He swiped away your tears with his thumbs. “You're safe with me. You'll never know hardship or pain again, if you just let me take care of you.”

You looked up at him with watery eyes, his expression painfully sincere. And you knew he meant it, knew that he would never let harm come to his wife. If you were his, you were as secure as gold in Gringott's. Untouchable.

“Just tell me what you need from me, and it's yours,” he whispered, eyes shimmering with promise.

Right now, all you wanted was to forget. To feel something other than gnawing, consuming fear.

“Don't want to think anymore,” you breathed. “I'm so tired of thinking.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, sharp as a dagger and twice as dangerous. “I think I can manage that.” He dragged you towards him, molding his lips to yours. You leaned into him, letting his mouth guide yours through the lush, toe-curling kiss. His tongue glided over your lower lip, tasting you, and you parted for him, moaning as his tongue twined with yours.

Rab felt so good, so assured and deliberate. It was easy to give in to him, to let him take the lead.

One of his arms looped around your waist, hauling you up and into his lap, straddling him. His hand on your face slid into your hair, gentle but firm as he deepened the kiss. Your heart beat wildly in your chest, heat spilling into your lower belly. You gave a tentative roll of your hips, desperate for more than a kiss, and you felt him smile against your mouth.

“Eager, darling?” He purred, kissing down your neck. “As tempting as you are, little doe, there will be none of that until you're mine.”

“Rab,” you whined, digging your fingers into his muscular shoulders, head tipping back to give him more access.

“Fuck, you sound so pretty.” His arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush to his chest as he thrust his hips up, making you gasp. “Go on, sweetheart. Show me what a perfect little wife you'll be.”

His words send a terrifying, exhilarating thrill through your body, a visceral reaction beyond rationality. It was a like a drunk being passed a handle of whiskey, everything you ever wanted at your fingertips.

Pretty little wife.

A path. A plan. A purpose.

You rocked your hips against him again, crying out when the thick bulge of his cock grazed your clit. Yes, yes, yes. Fuck, it felt so good, losing yourself in him. Letting the world slip free from your shoulders like the moans slipping from your lips.

Rab chuckled low in his throat, his hand skimming down your stomach, dipping beneath your skirt and panties to feel your dripping pussy, leaking obediently into his hand as his middle finger swirled your entrance. “You're a vision, darling. Absolute perfection,” he praised, the words hot and breathy against your skin. “Being so good.” His finger slipped inside of you, curling against your gooey walls, and you keened, aching thighs working you even faster against his palm.

“Mmph—Rab, m’so close,” you whimpered, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

“Go on, let go for me. There's my precious girl, that's it—” his whispered encouragement sent you over the edge, muffling your cry into his neck as pleasure seized you, hips bucking erratically as you rode out your high.

“Fuck, fuck,” you gasped, heart pounding in your ears, between your legs, as you slowly returned to earth, melting into his sturdy embrace.

Rabastan slid his fingers from you, taking a small taste of you for himself before feeding the digit between your lips. “Well done, love. Came so pretty for me.” He kissed along your temple, your cheek while you sucked yourself off of his finger.

He withdrew his finger, patting your cheek like you would an obedient dog, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

Suddenly, what you were doing hit you like a ton of bricks. You'd crawled into his lap like a bitch in heat, desperate and lonely, and so pathetic—your whole body stiffened in his arms, fighting the urge to recoil from him.

How could you have done this? Walked into his trap so willingly after everything? Betrayed Sirius’ open-heart so completely?

It took everything in you to swallow the tears forcing their way up your throat.

The train whistled, long and ear-splitting, and you jumped off his lap, so relieved your knees nearly gave out beneath you.

“Thor is going to wake up, I have to go.” You righted yourself, willfully ignoring the wet spot you left on his designer trousers, the raging hard on still tenting in his lap. “I'll see you tonight?”

“Run along, little doe. I'll see you tonight.” He waved you away.

You hurried back into the hall, nearly tipping over your feet when the train started to slow as it approached the station.

Thor wrenched open the compartment door, blue eyes landing on you. You have him a stiff nod, knowing what he wanted from you, and he grinned, jagged as the spikes of a bear trap.

You stared at yourself in the mirror. The emerald gown Rab selected for you was exquisite, tailored to perfection from its halter neckline to the slit reaching towards your hip. It looked like it had been poured onto you, hugging every curve. You should feel beautiful, but instead you felt deeply vulnerable. Like you may as well walk out there naked. All your secrets from the last month written across your skin.

After departing from the train, you and Thorfinn met up with your parents for tea, and you endured their endless questions and backhanded praise, leaving you feeling battered and even more ashamed than you already had.

It all felt so…hopeless.

Your eye wandered to your trunk, where the invisibility cloak was hidden away. A final sliver of hope. You didn't think you were brave enough to use it, if this morning was any indication. But you'd brought it anyways, knowing it was what Sirius wanted.

Your mind tugged one way, your heart another. Without this marriage your family could be left destitute. Your future a compete mystery.

And clearly, the allure of Rabastan's security and power was more formidable than you'd bargained for. The slightest push, and you'd folded. Fear making you desperate, foolish, cowardly.

And maybe that's what you were. Maybe Sirius was wrong about you.

The door to your suite creaked open, your mother sticking her head through the crack. “Are you finished yet?”

“Yes, mother,” you replied, rising from your makeup table and smoothing your dress. “I'm ready.”

You walked arm and arm with your mother down to the party, tuning out her endless instructions on how you should act and heave, who you should speak to, who you should ignore.

But as soon as you stepped into the ballroom, she fell silent in awe. It was stunningly lavish, every table dripping in velvet and diamonds,the glittering chandeliers overhead extravagant enough to compete with Gringotts. The marble floor clicked under your heels, the sound swallowed up by the band on the stage and the mingling voices floating on the air.

You knew the Lestrange's were wealthy, but this…

“Ah! There are my beautiful girls!” Your father appeared, Reinhard Lestrange on his left, Rabastan and Rodolpus flanking him like sentinels. “Don't you look lovely, darling.” Your father took your hands, bringing your knuckles to his lips, and you had to fight to control your expression. Your father never showed affection

Unconsciously, you glanced up at Rabastan. His eyes were trained on you, a pleased gleam lighting up his face, and you flushed. Reinhard seemed to notice the exchange, and looked at you with more interest.

“It's a pleasure to finally meet you,” he drawled, his voice having the same smooth cadence as his younger son. “Reinhard Lestrange.” He offered a hand, and you placed your fingers in his, and he brushed a kiss to your knuckles.

“It's an honor, sir,” you cooed despite your heart beating wildly in your chest, curtsying low.

A small smile ghosted his mouth, an echo of Rabastan's. “No wonder my son is so besotted, it's rare to meet such a competent young lady. Let alone one as striking as you.”

Besotted. You caught Rodolpus and Rabastan exchange a look, Rodolpus a teasing smirk, Rabastan a half-hearted glare.

“I only have my parents to thank for my nature, sir,” you said, and your parents beamed.

Reinhard chuckled. “So, what went wrong with your brother then?” Reinhard teased, surprising you with his sense of humor.

“Well, there's always one,” you shrugged, glancing at Rodolpus, and Reinhard burst out laughing.

Rabastan gave you a proud wink, and you bit your lip to stop from grinning. Rodolpus chuckled too, elbowing his brother, and you exhaled in relief. Maybe you could do this.

“Quite right, darling. Lucky Bella didn't hear that though, she's rip those pretty eyes right out.” Reinhard clapped Rodolpus on the shoulder. “Come, dinners about to begin.”

Rabastan swooped in as your party began to move, looping your arm through his. He looked wonderful, like one of those American movies stars, so dapper in his perfectly pressed black suit.

He leaned down towards you, keeping you close as you navigated the crowd. “Masterfully done, darling. I haven't seen my father laugh in weeks.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, waving at Evan and Regulus as you walked past them, their jaws a bit slack as they stared at you.

Rab cast them a warning glare, and they snapped their heads back to one another. “You look beautiful, though I doubt it needs to be said considering the trail of broken necks.”

“It's the dress, Rab. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever worn,” you said, looking up at him through dark lashes. “I'm so grateful.”

He leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “You'll have a closet full of the finest things, little doe.”

You reached the table and he pulled a chair out for you. You sat down, letting him slide you closer to he table before taking his seat beside you, to the right of his brother. Thorfinn sat beside your father, who was at Reinhards left. Your brother cast you an appraising glance, but turned his attention back to your father with barely an acknowledgement. Your heart deflated a bit.

Rabastan shook his head, frowning at the hurt tugging down the corners of your mouth. “And I thought my brother was an arse.”

“I resent that,” Rodolpus muttered, taking a sip of champagne. His wild-haired wife sat beside him, curled around his arm like a snake, her eyes meandering over your face.

Bellatrix Lestrange, once a Black. You could see the Black genes written all over her, from the bone structure to the haunting gray eyes. A jilted pang made you wince down at your plate.

How badly you wished Sirius was here. And he would be, you supposed, if Walburga and Orion Black weren't despicable wastes of oxygen.

You glanced down the table, finding them sitting with Regulus' between them, his eyes cast down at his plate while his parents talked over his head. From the movement of Walburgas mouth, you knew what they were talking about: Sirius.

Regulus felt your gaze and looked up, his eyes connecting with yours. His jaw feathered with tension, and thread of connection in spooling between you. He must see the hurt reflected in your eyes well.

You looked away.

Dinner dragged down for what felt like eons, tiny plate after tiny plate of priceless, exotic food, and endless flutes of champagne.

After dessert, Rabastan coaxed you out onto the dancefloor, where you waltzed and turned for another hour or so. But you couldn't get Regulus' expression out of your mind, couldn't shake the harrowing feeling it left behind.

We aren't supposed to be here, it screamed.

You'd never particularly enjoyed these parties, volleying with Sirius had always been your favorite part even if you'd never admit it. You felt his absence like a missing rib.

Had you ever missed Rabastan like that? Felt a moment was lacking, a meal was tasteless, a song was hollow, because Rabastan wasn't there to enjoy it with you?

The answer came with dizzying clarity: not even once.

But you felt it constantly with Sirius. Even at the wretched party, you so wished he could hear the sonorous band, or got to taste the bizarrely sweet squid patté just so you could exchange the same disgusted glance.

Everything felt brighter, lighter with Sirius.

But, the toll of the Lestrange clocktower sounded like a death knell. There was no going back.

You heart fractured, sending a wave of despair so intense, you stumbled over Rabastan’s foot.

He hauled you closer to his chest, steadying you. “Are you alright, darling?” He murmured, gently brushing your hair from your forehead. “Ready to sit for a spell?”

You nodded, allowing him to escort you towards a set of chairs in a quieter corner of the party. He flagged down a waiter to bring you a glass of water, and procured a fan from another.

“I have some business to discuss with my father, will you be alright on your own for a bit?” He asked, petting the top of your head.

“I'm alright, thank you, Rab,” you replied, taking a sip of water to try and force down the knot of emotion in your throat.

He kissed your cheek before disappearing into the crowd. You noticed your brother peel off from his place at the bar with some girl to follow him, and alarm bells sounded in the back of your mind.

You had a terrible, bone-deep feeling that the business they were discussing was you.

When you looked around, no one was paying you any mind. Your parents were nowhere to be seen, and neither were the male Lestrange's.

This might be your only chance to find out what they had in store for you.

As quickly as you could without drawing attention, you made your way out of the party and up to your room, fanning yourself and hoping anyone that noticed you would simply think you were poorly and retiring to your room.

You ditched your heels and grabbed the invisibility cloak, wrapping around yourself. You watched yourself disappear in the mirror, and a thrill of excitement shot up your spine. Sirius' cologne still lingered on the fabric, and it brought you a bit of comfort.

After stuffing some pillows under your duvet, you slipped out of the room, invisible as a wraith, a closed the door softly behind you. You hurried down the halls of the massive manor, wracking your brain to remember the brief tour their house Rabastan gave you upon arrival. You turned down the hall you remembered him skipping over, the walls decorated with art too fine to be unimportant like he'd implied.

A few feet down the hall, you could hear your father's voice floating through a crack in the door.

“This is my daughter we're talking about, Lestrange,” he bit.

“What you're proposing is absurd, Rowle,” Reinhard replied, sounding almost bored. “Especially considering it seems she'd marry my son of her own volition.”

“Not without our permission, she wouldn't. And she will have no such blessing until the amount is paid in full.”

Your throat dried. What amount?

Rabastan chuckled, the sound low and patronizing. “You think she cares what you think, Thorfinn?”

“Of course she does,” your father snapped. “Don't pretend you know her, or care about her.”

Silence echoed around the hall, drawn to a razors edge. You shifted to peer into the room, finding Rabastan leaning against his father's desk, eyes dark with rage.

Thorfinn stepped between Rabastan and your father, and Rodolpus moved to stand beside his younger brother, looking decidedly more casual than the rest of them.

Rodolpus alone could mop the floor with your family, and they knew it.

“Care about her?” Rabastan growled. “Have you not come to my house to sell her like merchandise?”

“Rabastan,” Reinhard warned.

Rabastan pushed off the desk, prowling closer. “Merchandise, which, I feel inclined to mention, you damaged?”

Your stomach dropped, and Thorfinn blanched.

“What?” Your father hissed, turning to Thorfinn.

“Damaged how?” Reinhard asked, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder.

Rabastan went quiet, letting Thorfinn sweat, before he shook his head. “Damaged metaphorically, of course,” he said, leaning back against the desk and Thorfinn sagged a bit in relief.

“Regardless, you ask too much, Rowle,” Reinhard continued, casting a warning glare at Rabastan.

“How much would a daughter of your own be worth, Reinhard?” Your mother asked, and you gasped. Your mother was never one to speak out of turn.

Reinhard’s expression darkened. “That's the difference between us, witch. I would never put a price on my child's head,” he snarled. “I've only agreed to be a part of this because my son insisted.”

You braced a hand on the wall, shock rocking through you. Not only were they trying to sell you, Rabastan wanted to buy you?

“Father—”

“Enough. I know you're soft on the girl, but—”

“Fine,” your father interrupted, making Reinhard grit his teeth. “Make it 15,000 galleons.”

You felt like you might be sick. How could you family do this to you? Thorfinn's words earlier echoed in your mind. The business is not going well. You may be our last hope.

You didn't realize he meant it so literally.

Reinhard looked at Rabastan. “Is she worth it, son?”

You couldn't stick around for his answer. You took off down the hall, bare feet slapping on the marble, tears streaming down your face.

An arranged marriage, one of mutual gain, was one thing, but to be sold? It made you sick. How could Rabastan agree to that? How could he touch you, kiss you, knowing that he was purchasing you like livestock? Had you ever had a choice? Would they drag you down the aisle in shackles?

You pushed your way through the party and out the grand front doors, flying down the steps. The ground was frigid and rough beneath your bare feet, but you ran anyways, leaving the shadow of Lestrange Manor far behind you.

You couldn't get back Hogwarts without the train, and there was only one other place you could think of to go.

In a sickening whirl of color, the spell spit you out on the stone steps of candlelit porch, framed with enchanted flowers that bloomed brightly despite the winter chill: Potter Manor.

You stared up at the front door, heart racing so fast you could barely breathe. There was no turning back from this.

You reached a hand up and knocked three times.

A few moments later, James pulled open the door, dressed like he was about to go to sleep. Fuck, you hadn't even considered how late it was.

“Y/n?” He asked, adjusting his glasses.

“I'm sorry, I—”

“Y/n?” Sirius pushed in front of James, eyes wide. He was shirtless, flannel sweatpants slung low. His smattering of archaic ink a stark contrast to his fair skin, and for a second you forgot what you were doing here. “Are you okay?” Sirius asked, ushering you into the foyer and closing the door. “Are you hurt?” He pushed the cloak from your shoulders, revealing the gown you were wearing, and his eyes widened in surprise.

“No, no. I—” a sob welled up, choking off your voice.

“Oh, darling, come here.” He bundled you into his chest, wrapping his arms protectively around your body while you cried into the curve of his neck, fists balled up against his abdomen. “Sh, sh, it's alright, love. I've got you,” he murmured into your hair, pressing kisses into the side of your head. “I've got you now.”

He held you a bit tighter, lifting you into a bridal holding, making you cry harder.

“What's going on?” You heard an unfamiliar man ask, and you clung tighter to Sirius, fear streaking through you.

“Shh, it's James' father. You're safe,” he whispered, carrying you across the house and depositing you onto a chaise in a sitting room.

Distantly, you could hear James explaining who you were in a hushed voice.

“I didn't know where else you go,” you sniffled, taking a stuttering inhale. “I'm sorry for barging in.”

“Nonsense,” he shushed you, crouching down in front of you and offering a handkerchief. “You're right where your meant to be.”

You dabbed your eyes and nose, smearing mascara all over the clean fabric and cringed.

“Can you tell me what happened, love?” He asked, brows furrowed with concern.

“They—he—” your voice splintered, another wave of panic and sobs dragging you under.

“Okay, you don't have to say anything.” He shifted to sit on the couch and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as you trembled. You buried your face into his neck and let yourself cry, and cry, and cry.

All the stress and fear of the last few weeks bubbled up and poured out of you until you were gasping, hollowed out and raw.

Something shuffled in the room, and you suddenly remembered you were not alone. Sirius appeared to have the same realization, glancing over his shoulder at his friend and his parents.

You braced yourself for the barrage of questions, but instead you heard James’ mother murmur, “Would she like some tea?”

“Love?” Sirius asked, turning to you. “Do you need anything?”

You shook your head, embarrassment scorching your cheeks. “M'okay, thank you Mrs. Potter,” you mumbled.

“Chamomile tea would be great, mama, thank you,” Sirius answered for you, a twinge of exasperated affection in his voice.

“’Course. Be back in a bit,” she said, her voice so gentle it brought tears to your eyes once again, and you heard three sets of slippers shuffle out.

“Look at me,” Sirius murmured, cradling your face and lifting your head from the crook of his shoulder. “I need to apologize for yesterday. I let my own feelings cloud my judgement and I—I’m so sorry if I frightened you.”

“It frightened me because it was true.” You barely recognized your own voice, hoarse and small. “Because I wasn't ready to face it.”

“And now?” His gray eyes welled with something dangerously close to hope, and your heart gave a silly little flip.

For the first time, you didn't try to fight it. You just let the feeling bloom in your chest, warm and glittery, and you nodded into his neck, wrapping an arm around his middle.

“Now I know that I was building my life, myself, around a lie. None of it was real—” tears threatened to choke you again, but you fought them down. “How I feel about you is the only thing I know isn't stained by their lies. I know that it comes from me, the real me. And that’s why it scared me so much. They taught me not to trust myself…”

Sirius was quiet, eyes glossy with unshed tears, his thumb catching a stray tear as it rolled down your cheek.

You weren't sure if you were ready to give voice to what you heard, but you wanted to offer some kind of explanation for your sudden appearance. “I overheard something, and my instincts were screaming at me, and I just…I listened.”

“That's good, love. That was the right thing to do,” he murmured, rubbing soothing circles around your back. “And I'm glad you came here.”

James sauntered into the sitting room, tray in hand. “I was wondering where the cloak went,” he said, crouching down in front of you and handing you a mug of tea. “You alright, mate?”

Mate. The word made your broken heart glow.

“I thought you ran it by him?” You asked, quirking a brow at Sirius.

Sirius shrugged. “James is a loud mouth.”

“Hey!”

“I heard you tried to go toe to toe with my brother,” you said, providing further proof of Sirius' accusation.

“And I'd do it again,” James huffed. “I'll do it now, if you want. Where is he?”

“Not Thorfinn, unfortunately. But you can tangle with me, if you'd like.” A low voice filled the room, startling the three of you to your feet. Rabastan stood leaned against the doorway, twirling his wand in his fingers. “Trusting sort, the Potters. Let me right in.”

James bolted out of the room in search of his parents and Sirius withdrew his wand, tugging you behind him.

“What did you do?” Sirius growled, and Rab rolled his eyes.

“Nothing, cousin. Now, get your hands off of my girl.” Rab straightened to his full height, but Sirius didn't falter.

Fuck this. “I heard you,” you snapped, stepping out from behind Sirius and raising your own wand as you stalked towards him. “I heard you talking with my parents. You fucking bought me?”

Rabastan's smug smile dropped. “No, I--”

“What am I worth, Rabastan? 15,000 galleons? Twenty?” you hissed, jabbing your wand under his chin.

“You didn't stick around for my answer, darling?” He countered, taking a step forward, closing the gap between you. “I said you were worth the trip to Azkaban after I gutted your brother like a fucking fish.”

You blinked. “What—”

“We were never going to buy you,” he admitted, his voice softening. “Or at least, I wasn't. I would only have you if you wanted me in return.” His fingers came up to caress your cheek, and you flinched away, taking a step back. “I thought you wanted me too,” he whispered, hurt straining the edges of his voice.

“You've been lying to me,” you said, taking another step back. “I can't trust you, or any of them.”

Rab's jaw flexed, his chin dropping to his chest in shame. “I'm sorry, little doe—”

“Don't fucking call me that.”

He turned his head like you’d slapped him, his hand flexing around his wand, eyes squeezing shut. A part of your heart ached with guilt, but you couldn’t forgive him. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

James returned, wand raised. “You need to get out, Lestrange. Now,” he ordered.

“James, wait,” Sirius said, stepping forward and placing a steady hand on your shoulder. “So, you didn't go through with it?” The question was directed at Rab, who lifted his head to meet Sirius’ eyes.

“That’s why I came,” he said, looking back at you. “I called it off. All of it. But I need you to understand, you...you can’t go home.”

“What?” Panic closed like a fist around your throat.

“I’m sorry, darl—y/n.” He took a tentative step towards you, pocketing his wand. “When we discovered that you ran, your father—he disowned you.”

You sagged to the side, Sirius catching you around the waist. They disowned you. Cast you side like damaged goods. Like you were worthless to them now. “W-what?”

The room tilted around you again, your vision tunneling to a pinprick--

“Easy, love.” Sirius eased you back onto the chaise, cupping your face in an effort to keep you tethered to consciousness. “Take a breath for me, in—good girl—now breath out. Nice and long, that’s it.”

You followed his instructions, taking big, deep breaths until the darkness at the edge of your vision receded, your heart rate starting to slow.

“All they’ve done is set you free, doll,” Sirius said, smoothing your hair from your face. “You’re going to be alright.”

“Where will I go?” You sniffed, clutching at Sirius’ shirt. Over his shoulder, you saw pain flicker across Rabastan’s face, but he looked away, towards James.

“If I provide a stipend, would your family be able to house her? Since you Potter’s like stray’s so much?” He gestured to Sirius.

“It’s up to her,” Sirius interrupted, throwing his cousin a glare. “She can go where she wants.”

“You’re more than welcome,” James said, looking past the others towards you. “We’ve got plenty of room, no stipend required.” The last bit was directed at Rab, his voice turning barbed.

“The semester’s almost over,” Sirius added. “Could stay for the summer, than get your own place in London. If that's what you want to do.”

“And we’ll keep your brother far away, if needed,” Rabastan added. “I meant what I said. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

Despite yourself, some of your resentment towards him loosened. He’d done the right thing in the end, and perhaps it wasn’t all a lie. This world had chewed you all up, one way or another, how much could you fault him for baring the scars of the monster that made him?

Those same scars nearly cost you everything. Everything being the man on his knees in front of you, the sincerest and most loyal person you'd ever known. The only person you ever trusted unconditionally and without restraint. He was everything you'd ever wanted, you'd just been to blinded by fear to see it.

“Thank you, Rab,” you murmured, and he dipped his chin. “And thank you, James,” you said, and he gave you two thumbs up. You took Sirius’ chin, turning his face to yours. “And you, Sirius, there aren’t enough ‘thank you’s’ in the world,” you whispered, and the smile he gave you was so lovesick, it nearly brought tears to your eyes.

“Don’t you dare thank me,” he said, taking your hand from his face and placing it over his heart, beating rhythmically in the center of his bare chest. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, love. I’ll maim Lestrange’s pretty face right now if you want—”

“Fuck off, mutt—”

“That won’t be necessary,” you chuckled, leaning in to peck Sirius’ lips. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“I suppose that’s my cue,” Rabastan said, adjusting his cuffs and looking everywhere but you and Sirius. “I’ll see you around the common room, then?”

“We’ll see—”

“Of course,” you placed a hand over Sirius’ mouth, silencing his attitude. He nibbled your palm in retaliation.

Rabastan dipped his chin in farewell and took his leave, glancing back at you a final time before stepping out into the quiet night.

You lowered your hand from Sirius’ mouth, giving him a phony scowl, and he bared his teeth, teasing you back.

“I’ll talk to my parents,” James said, rubbing the back of his head. “Sirius can show you to the empty guest room, though I suppose you won’t be using it—oi!” Sirius launched a pillow at James’ head, and he scampered away, disappearing down the hall.

Sirius turned his attention back to you, expression softening. “Are you alright, love?” He asked, holding your hands in his.

You nodded. “I’m okay…afraid, I suppose. But in a different way.” You traced the web of your fingers with your eyes, and brought your joined hands up to kiss across his scarred knuckles. “But Sirius, I’m not sure we should jump into anything quite yet.”

Sirius nodded, his eyes lingering on your lips. “We’ll go at your pace, whatever you want—so long as I can kiss you every six hours.”

You grinned, affection blooming like a burst of sunlight in your chest. “I think we can arrange that.” You leaned forward, pressing your tear-dampened lips to his, and for the first time, it didn’t hit you where it hurts the most, in your battered, bruised heart. It touched your soul instead, somewhere deeper, uncharted.

Somewhere new.

Thank you so much to everyone that read and supported this series! I'm so proud of it, and it was a joy to scream about it with you all 🫶

But don't worry, you haven't seen the last of Rabastan 😉

taglist: @lovelykat001, @carmenschemtrails, @lolalleins, @fangirl-swagg, @batboysanonymous, @watchmerora, @iheartnostalgia, @simars3, @elizabethblood9, @unstable-cucumber, @holholliday, @itisjustwhatitis

[protectingpluto]

A list of k*nks without explanation: Jim Hopper's Edition

Mature contents: keep reading

Size kink

You look so small compared to him. So delicate, and fragile. And you feel so tight for his big cock — he dominates you in every way possibile. Despite being so gentle, as he forces his lenght into you, his hands are still so big, his fingers so thick, his shoulder so wide and powerful, his sexy dad bod and his heavy mustache are just mmmh. He's all big and all man. And dear god, if it doesn't excite him.

Power Play & Dynamics

"I'm the Chief of Police, I can do whatever I want."

He's got the power, and you know it, and he knows it. You can read it in his eyes, as their bright blue get darker, and he's drunk on power. "Hands behind your back, and get down on your knees. Now, darling. I don't want to repeat myself, 's that clear enough?"

The things you'll let him do to you...

Praising & Degradation

Both, yes. He can be very vanilla, calling you his precious, lovely girl, praising you in every way, and the next time he'll call you a dirty slut knowing you'll love it just the same.

But god — when you are the one telling him he's so good. You have him in the palm of your hands. He'll hug you tight against his chest, silently begging you to say it again as he get deeper and slower inside of you, making the sweetest love to you.

Free Use

Stay still for him, and let him use you — your body, your mouth, your butt, your nipples — whenever he wants, how does that sound?

Outdoor Intercourse

That's a little wild. But he is a little wild, isn't he? He's a savage beast, deep down. And he secretly likes this wild, savage part of himself. He wants to chase you into the woods, bend you down on your hands and knees and fuck you like an animal would.

[protectingpluto]

stuck

Paring: Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Summary: Yes, it’s exactly what you think it is. MDNI

WC: 4.6k+

Includes: no plot all filth, unrealistic “stuck” porn trope, friends to horny idiots, dirty talk, pet names/name calling, unprotected PiV sex, oral (f receiving), briefest mention of monsterfucking, brief anal play, a smidge of humiliation kink with a healthy side of a praise kink, d/s dynamic, etc.

A/N: Literally got this idea from a certain filthy piece of DBD fanart that I can’t find, but if you know the one I’m talking about, please lmk so I can properly credit for the inspo!! Is this ridiculous? Yes. Was this originally for Halloween? Also yes. We hate rules here (and deadlines). Hope y’all enjoy it <3 (dividers from @/saradika-graphics)

Everyone told Steve he was insane to venture back into the Upside Down, but he couldn’t leave you there alone. 

He felt sick for even leaving you behind at all. Quite honestly, no one felt good about evacuating without you, but it was smarter to go home, gear up, grab another working walkie, before wandering back into hell to find you.

See, among the chaos of trying to help Eddie, trying to keep Max alive, he worried about you and your unusual absence from the group, but you were strong enough to handle nearly anything— that much, he was confident on. You had fought side by side with him over the years, protecting everyone in the group, and one another; through demodogs, a shit summer job gone awry, and anything in between, you could hold your own with a bravery he wished he didn’t need to front at times.

That didn’t quell his anxiety one bit, though. When and where you had disappeared to, he wasn’t sure.

It wasn’t until your voice broke through over the airwaves, when Steve, Eddie, Nancy, and Robin were on the lake, that he felt relief you were at least alive. Your voice was tinny through the static.

“Guys?”

The only reason a signal existed at all was because the group floated just above the gate at the bottom of the lake— they just didn’t know it yet.

Steve had just thrown his sweater off, ready to dive in, when the sound of your voice made his eyes widen. 

“Holy shit, give me the—“ He rocked the tiny boat a little too much for anyone’s comfort as he fell to his knees, grabbing the walkie from the floor. “Where the fuck are you?!”

“Hi to you too, Harrington.”

Robin yanked the device from Steve’s grip, “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“Long fuckin’ story, but—“ Your voice cut out, static filling the dead air for a few seconds. “And that’s—“ Cut off again. “Upside Down, but I- I don’t know where I am, exactly. Why didn’t any of y’all tell me how bad this place sucks?”

Steve laughed to himself, unaware his eyes became glassy, hearing the familiar attitude and sailor’s mouth you carried; the other three noticed just how relieved and emotional he was right away. He grabbed the walkie back from Robin with shaky hands.

“We’re gonna come find you, we think we found a gate,” He rushed out. “Are you safe at least?”

“For now, but these—“ Signal cutting out, Steve hit the walkie a few times, as if that’d fix the disconnect between literal dimensions. “— Th- they’re everywhere. I don’t know where to hi— oh, shit—“ Your end fell dead again, leaving the four on edge, waiting for you to speak. White noise droned on for less than a minute; you weren’t coming back. 

Wasting not a second longer, Steve dove into the dark, chilled waters of the lake. He found the gate they suspected of, and broke the surface to alert his friends. As he relayed the information, rushed and panicked, wanting to find you as soon as possible, something tugged on his leg. Only startling the group at first, Steve was caught off guard, pulled under, back down to the bottom. He kicked, struggled, lungs burning as he fought off the urge to gasp for a breath he couldn’t dare to take.

It was all a blur, being dragged through the gate and tossed around like a rag doll; the bats diving towards him, finding an oar to defend himself with among the Upside Down’s mirrored decay of the lake, only to be bombarded by the gnarly creatures. They tore at his flesh as he was being strangled to death; brain growing fuzzy as he put up a good fight, he began to accept this fate. He wasn’t sure when his friends came through the gate, but one by one they retaliated against the bats, leaving just the one still strangling Steve.

“Get fucked!”

Unexpectedly, you appeared, slamming an ax— one you always left in your trunk, just in case— down onto one of its wings, chopping through completely, yet it still tried to flee as Steve bit down on its tail. Stunned, you all watched as Steve swung it around, slamming it down into the ground before violently ripping its spine out, fueled by pure rage.

Blood dripped from his mouth while he glanced up at you, rage and fear fading as relief flooded every inch of his heart. Despite your ragged appearance— covered in grime, soot, and blood— he was just happy to see you alive; a sight for sore eyes.

“I fuckin’ hate those things.” You wanted to run and hug him, but restrained yourself at the sight of his wounds. Taking in the sight of all four friends, you sighed, “Y’all okay?”

Another screech in the sky tore everyone’s attention away, “C’mon!” Where everyone ran off to the rocks, you made the mistake of running off in the opposite direction. The group of bats split off, heading towards both you and the others; when you looked over your shoulder, you watched Steve do the same, panic fueling you both to run for your lives.

You sprinted off towards the woods, hoping you’d find each other again soon, and alive.

Steve climbed back through the gate in Eddie’s trailer, and had searched for what felt like hours; he was losing hope of finding you by the minute. He knows you; you wouldn��t give up without a fight. You had to be alive, but dread was still building within him.

At least he caught a signal over the walkies.

“What do you mean you’re stuck?”

Your voice warbles through the speaker of Steve’s walkie, barely coherent through the sharp static. 

“Okay, okay, where are you?”

“The— g—“ Feedback rips through your words, shrill and sharp. “I’m tr—“

“You’re cutting out—“

“Gate! I’m—“ A drone of white noise floods the speaker, and you’re gone.

“Shit. Fuck. God-fucking-dammit!” He hits the device with his free hand, slams the buttons and messes with the knobs and antenna— if only he actually paid attention when Dustin tried showing him how to work this fucking thing.

He did hear you say ‘gate’ at least, but which one? You clearly weren’t at the one he just entered, and the one at the lake had closed up by now. 

This would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.

Steve’s exhausted, searching high and low for you, at every possible spot that crosses his mind. It had to have been another hour since he last heard from you, and he’s running out of ideas of where you could be.

“Checked around town,” He begins murmuring to himself, listing and eliminating options out loud. “No luck there… but— shit, didn’t check the library…” Could a gate even open in there? Anywhere was possible, right? And if that was the case, he’d have to tear through every room of every building, circle each structure, check any cars, houses, sheds, backyards, parks, the woods—

Christ, at this rate, he’ll never find you—

“Oof!” Steve loses his footing, tumbling over something in the stretch of woods he was combing through. Colliding with the ground, he groans on impact.

“What the fuck?”

Steve rolls over quickly, sitting up to find he had tripped over you.

“Oh, thank fuck.” He scrambles to his feet, brushing debris off his body as he finally glances your way.

When you said you were stuck, Steve didn’t picture the sight before him now; you, halfway through a gate found in a tree trunk, unable to move because it began to close up around your waist. Your upper half is on the other side, but your bottom half is still stuck in the Upside Down.

“Oh…. You’re… wow, okay.” He snickers, “Yeah. You’re stuck, alright.”

Steve’s muffled cackling echoes through the slimy gate. You huff and roll your eyes; not like he can see.

“Just help me out of here, would ya’?!”

“Okay, okay… Jesus.” He drops to his knees, still towering over you— well, your back half, at least. “Does it hurt?”

“No, it’s just fucking annoying. Maybe try, I dunno, pulling at the edges of it, or something?”

“I don’t think that’s how these things work—“

“Steve!”

“Okay, right, yeah, sorry.” He bites his bottom lip, stifling more laughter. It’s certainly an… awkward position, leaning over you from behind, but it’s the only way he can pull at the edges with both hands at once. He gives the gate’s edge a tug, but it’s stone solid. He tries again, this time with a grunt that has your mind wandering elsewhere. “Yeah, this is, uh… that’s not gonna work.”

“Oh my god, I’m stuck here forever,” You groan, kicking your feet. “I’m gonna die here.”

“Calm down, drama queen. Gimme a second, I’ll try again.” Steve keeps himself balanced on one knee, while the other leg plants a steady foot into the ground. Again, he attempts to pry open the gate, hoping to free you; his foot slips, causing him to rub against your backside.

Okay, ‘rub’ is a generous term— more like roughly falling against your ass, then whining over the pressure on his bulge.

“Steve, what the fuck?” You crane your neck, only able to see where the tree bark opens up into the gate, snug around your waist. “Did you just—“

“I didn’t mean to, I swear! M- my foot slipped!”

“Oh, bullshit.”

“Look, it’s not exactly the easiest to move around you without touching you right now,” He argues. “You really think I’m trying to make a move on you in a situation like this?!”

“Well, I can’t see shit, Harrington. I don’t know what the hell’s going on back there.”

Ignoring you, Steve murmurs, more to himself but loud enough for you to still hear, “The hell are you wearing these tiny shorts for, anyway?” He tugs at the hem around your thigh, elastic snapping back against your skin. You bite back whatever pathetic noise threatens to escape your lips.

“It was warm out earlier!”

“It’s March—“

“And unreasonably warm for March, y- you jerk.”

“That why you’re shivering?”

“Considering the sun set, uh, yeah?”

You grumble, annoyed how wet this easily has made you. You need out, and Steve needs out, too, and the two of you need to just forget about all of this.

“Okay, just—“ You can’t think straight, mind clouded with dirty thoughts— how embarrassing. “Push me through.”

“You… want me to push you… how?”

“With your hands, St—“

“I know with my h— I meant, like, where?”

You can’t see the way he licks his lips, staring at your ass, but you sure can hear the strangled moan he miserably tries to hide in his throat. 

“Wherever works— I don’t know, I’ve never been stuck between dimensions before!”

He shudders a breath before calling through the gate, “I’m gonna— if I touch anything I shouldn’t, I swear to god I’m not trying to—“

“Okay, yeah, I get it, Steve— just push me out of here!”

“Christ, you’re fucking bossy…”

His hands grip the plush of your hips, first, hoping he can grip hard enough and push this way— it’s useless; his hands lose grip, sliding up your body. His knuckles run into the tree, and he’s grateful for that barrier; who knows how far his hands could’ve slipped. He yelps and recoils away. “Sorry!”

“Dude, I don’t care, just do whatever works.” You sound exhausted, and who wouldn’t be in a situation like this? You had to have been here at least an hour, and even if it doesn’t hurt, it can’t be very comfortable. 

Steve shakes his nerves off, hands reaching for the back of your thighs; his fingers splay apart, pushing as hard as he can, and you finally begin to budge. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

Until you cry out for him to stop. “Shit, that fuckin’ hurts— It’s— ow, fuck! My hips—”

He immediately backs off, hands releasing pressure, but still resting gently on your thighs. It’s automatic, the way his thumbs rub slow circles into your exposed skin to try comforting you; the shorts you’re wearing are not helping either of you. It was warm out earlier, like you said, but did you have to wear these now?

Goosebumps prickle up under his fingers, and it’s hard to miss the way you clench your thighs together. 

“You, uh…” Steve gulps, fingers gently kneading at the meat of your thighs. “You okay over there?”

“Uh-huh,” Your answer isn’t very convincing, with a trembling voice. “Everything okay back there? W- with you, I mean.”

“Sure, yeah, it’s… I’m good.” He feels like such a pervert, fantasizing about taking you right here, like this. It’s wrong when you’re trapped like this. “Honey, I- I don’t know what else to do.”

The pet name twists at a coil deep within you, building up a pressure of some kind. 

“This is gonna sound fucked up, but just— push my ass— Steve, that better not be you laughing!”

He can’t hold back his immature giggling, but he’d rather this than moan.

“You sure? I don’t want you to get mad or anything.” He tries to settle down, focus on getting you unstuck. “Tell me to stop if it hurts again, alright?”

You imagine hearing those words of sweet consent in a different circumstance, biting back a whimper. “Ye- yeah, I will.”

Steve slides his hands up to the curve of your ass, unable to restrain himself before digging his fingers into your soft, plushy body. “Gonna count down, sweetheart, okay?”

This time a whimper does beat you to the punch before you can actually reply. He squeezes a little harder.

“Three… two… one—“ Steve shoves his hands against you, pushing as hard as he can. Again, your hips shove up against the tree trunk, and you cry out from the pinch. He pulls you back an inch, wincing with guilt. “M’sorry, I—“

“Again,” You boldly call back to him.

“… You sure?”

“Just do it, please,” His hands are so warm, touch so soft; you wish the fabric of your shorts would just disappear. There’s an extra whine to your voice, “Don’t hold back, I can take it.”

“Oh, fuck…” He mumbles, sucking in a sharp breath. “Go— I’m gonna try again, ready?” He hears a faint noise of consent, shoving himself into you; this time, his hips rut into you, too. You still can’t get through the gate, but you’re not sure that’s either of your concern at this moment. His bulge, rock-hard now, brushes up against your ass, and you both moan out. This is bad.

The way you push back against him isn’t helping much, either.

Both of you still, falling silent while trying to steady your breaths. Are you really about to do this here? Now?

Steve makes the decision for you both, muttering, “I can’t fuckin’ take it anymore.” He’s purposefully grinding against you, head lolling back with a groan as you push into him in return. From either end, both of you are shuddering out sinful noises. “Always wanted to kiss you first, but—“

“As soon as you rescue me, y’can kiss me all ya’ want.”

“Shit, princess, never took you for the damsel in distress type.” He tugs your shorts down, choking on air when he discovers you’re completely nude underneath. “Jesus, did you think at all about your outfit today?”

“Uh, considering I don’t have a bra on… no.”

“You don’t have a—“ Steve comically pouts that part of you is through the other side of the gate; he’s grateful you can’t see the pathetic expression. “What, did you just roll outta bed and stroll down here?”

“Steve, the longer we talk about the logistics of my outfit, the dryer I’m becoming.”

“Good thing I can help with that.”

“Okay, that was goofy to s— oh…” His thumbs spread your folds apart; despite your failed quip, you’re soaked as sin. 

“So fuckin’ pretty…” He leans down, kissing the swell of your ass, trailing his lips down your backside until he’s level with your heat. There’s no warning, just his tongue gliding along your folds, lapping up your arousal. A feral sounding groan vibrates through your core as he loses himself tasting you. It’s not rushed— not on purpose, at least— but any restraint is long gone now.

“Oh m’god,” You shudder while his tongue swirls around your clit, sucking it softly. His arms wrap around your thighs from behind, hooking you in place. You twitch back, like you’re desperate to grind on his face, but worried to freak him out.

Steve’s far from freaked out; in fact, he’s delving his tongue deeper, nearly incoherent when he mirrors your earlier words, “Don’t hold back. I can take it.”

That’s all the permission you need, rolling your body back as far as the gate allows, trembling as he sloppily makes out with your cunt. If only you could see the glistening mess on his pretty features. “Steve…”

He angles his nose against your clit just right, making you squeal into the empty forest around you. His tongue laps away, eventually tapering to fuck into you with it.

“Fuck, more, ple- please,” You pant, grateful Steve’s holding you upright, or you’d go limp against the tree. “Please— god!”

He slides a finger into you, curling it just right as he kisses and sucks back to your clit. He’s rougher this time when he suckles on the sensitive bud, rolling your eyes back and tensing your body up. You chant his name in whimpers, like a desperate prayer, only urging him to finger fuck you harder.

“Jesus, sweetheart, you’re gripping me so hard.” He groans into you, adding another finger. “Taste so good, I could be here all night—“

An orgasm startles you, going 0 to 100 without warning; lewd noises floating back through the gate toward Steve only challenge him to keep going.

“S- Steve, ha- hang on—“

“You want me to stop?” He slows his pace, but you ram yourself back into his hand and lips.

“No! Please, god, no—“

“Then what is it?” His tongue flits out, teasing around your sensitive nub.

“M- move your fingers up, back where you had it— ohhhmyfuckinggod—“

“C’mon, come for me, y’can do it again,” he coaxes, spitting onto your folds while relentlessly ruining you with his thick, long fingers. Your legs tremble wildly. “I can tell you’re close, angel. Make a mess, come for me again—“

This time, you cry out, praying whatever woods you found yourself in was deep enough, away from the public. Your hips twitch and convulse, while you flutter around his digits, soaking his face while he continues to delve deeper, as if that’s even possible.

The pumping pace of his fingers never relents, despite how overstimulated you feel already.

“St- Steve…”

“Got one more in ya’?” You feel his hot breath fanning over your folds again. It’s not long before he’s flicking his tongue back out, teasing your clit while adding another finger. “Christ… yeah… yeah, angel, that’s it…” He laps at the nectar dribbling from your centre, grunting as his free hand pulls you by your thigh, guiding you to bounce against his face. The fingers buried in you curl just right, earning a broken, breathy noise from the other side; he hits the right spot, and under a minute in, you’re gushing against his pretty face.

You can hear how drenched he is when he speaks, licking his lips between his words, “That was… oh, fuck, that… that was so… can we do that every day?”

Winded, you manage to laugh weakly, “If you can figure out how to get me un-stuck, I’ll let you do that as much as you fuckin’ want.”

You’d kill to see his face right now, dripping with your release, but until then you’ll just need to use your imagination.

“…. Can we—“

“Please.”

The head of his cock slides along your folds, teasing as it runs over your sensitive clit. You jolt back, and he grips you by the hip, holding you in place with one hand.

“Be patient for me, angel. I don’t wanna hurt you,” he slides in, taking his time, paying attention to your gasps. “You okay?”

“Uh-huh, ju- just go slow.”

Like earlier, when Steve tried pushing you through the gate, he soothes you with his touch, thumbs rubbing soft circles against your skin. He sinks a bit further, feeling you clench around him with anticipation. “Angel, gotta relax to let me in…”

“I- I know, m’trying, you’re just— you’re so… so…”

“Shhh, it’s okay, I have you. You’re okay…” He slides deeper, hips almost flush against your backside. “Just relax… that’s it, that’s my girl.”

The praise elicits a pornographic moan out of you, only triggering his cock to twitch against your walls.

“God, wish I could see your face right now,” his mumbling fades into a gravelly groan, sinking deep into you. 

“Y’can if you fuck me when we’re outta here,” you strain out, taking him to the hilt. His cock twitches again, making you both shudder.

“I dunno, what if we can’t get you out, sweetheart?” The tides turn with his tone. He pulls out slowly, teasing your clit with the head of his cock. You twitch and clench around nothing, making him smirk. “What if you’re stuck here forever?” Slamming back into you, your walls clamp down on him, tighter than before. “Oh, what, you like that idea?”

“Steve…”

“You wanna be left here? Where anyone can walk by, use you however they want?” He draws back, snapping his hips back into your ass, relishing in the way you cry out. “Anyone can find you in the woods over there, use that pretty mouth of yours…” Gripping your hips, he pulls back slowly, thrusting in with everything he’s got. It’s becoming a torturous pattern, but he can tell you’re enjoying it with the way you’re soaking his cock. 

“Oh my— fuck…” You gasp from the other side, throwing yourself back into him as far as the gate allows you. He grunts as you meet his thrusts.

“You’d be up for grabs over here too, y’know…” Hands trailing back to your ass, he spreads your cheeks, spitting lewdly on your pretty, puckered hole. “But maybe you’re not that much of a freak—“ You don’t hold back the sinful sound building in your throat over his unfinished concept. “Oh. Oh. You’d like gettin’ fucked by some monsters too, huh? That’s so fuckin’ gross, babe.”

“That ain’t even the half of it,” you manage to reveal through panting and whimpering.

His mind races over the possibilities, slamming into you a little faster.

Steve circles the tight entrance with the pad of his thumb, throbbing deep inside you as he tests the waters, sinking in just a bit. You squirm and whine, relaxing as he continues on, eventually making it past his knuckle— which, wouldn’t be too much, but with the size of his hands, you feel so full off that alone.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, I don’t think I’ll l- last long,” he murmurs while he pistons his hips into you, growing sloppier by the minute. 

“S’okay… m’not…” You can’t grasp onto the words you need, not when he’s fucking you absolutely brainless between dimensions. “God, Steve, you’re so deep.”

His thumb slips out of you, leaving you emptier than before, making desperate, pathetic mewls and cries. Ignoring you, his hand slides underneath, pressing down onto the peak of your mound. “Where do you feel me? Here?”

“N- no, deeper…”

Steve splays his hand wide, fingers blanketing over your skin; he inches his touch up, just where your belly and pelvis begin to meet. The further he stretches his touch, the more he leans over you, kissing along any bare skin on your back he can reach.

“Here?”

You shake your head, but he can’t see. Your lapse in verbal response earns a smack on your ass, causing you to cry out into the expanse of the woods. 

“Where, babe? Tell me.”

“Up,” whimpering, you push back into him. Hand gliding up to your belly button, he stops.

“Here?”

Eyes rolling back, you let out a broken sob, “Yes!”

Steve pushes down on your belly, just enough for the pressure to meet his thrusts.

“You’re takin’ me like a slut… sound like one, too.” He grunts while bucking wildly into you. His hand disappears, only to join the other in grabbing you by the thighs, nearly lifting your lower half off the ground against him.

The sound is absolutely what you’d expect from two, hopelessly horny idiots, fucking in a circumstance like this one right here. Skin on skin slapping roughly, echoing out into the woods of the Upside Down, in time with his near-feral grunts and throaty groans. On your side, in your world, you can only imagine how close to an injured animal you might sound like, or someone in actual distress, unable to cover your mouth as you hold yourself up while he fucks into you relentlessly.

“M’pretty close, angel,” Steve pants through the gate, hips stuttering while he still gives his all, thrusting mercilessly into you. “Where—  where can I—“

“‘Side…” You groan out, lost in a lust-driven delirium.

Attitude softening, he manages to ask, “In— you mean inside?”

“Uh-huh, wanna be full,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear. “Make me yours—“

“Oh, fuck,” Steve’s hips freeze over your words, finally reaching his high. One final cry tears out of you as your fourth and final orgasm trembles through your body, rolling into his. The delicious squeeze and fluttering around him helps milk his release, doing just as you asked, filling you up with his spend. 

Involuntarily, his entire lower half twitches violently into you, and finally, finally, the gate gives, allowing him to tumble through to the other side, shoving you out first. He lands on top of you, rolling over onto the forest floor while you both groan. The woods are quiet, aside from occasional crickets and your loud, ragged breaths, weaving through the branches above.

Though the two of you are ready to fully collapse, the squelching sound of the gate constricting catches your attention; the damn thing closes completely.

Steve chuckles weakly, while you push past any shame that might still linger, shyly smiling over at him.

“Hey…” You attempt to greet him, now that you’re face to face— which, speaking of, his features are still glistening from sweat and your multiple releases. 

“Hi,” he breathes, eyes trailing over your figure, landing and pausing on your exposed core, dripping a lewd mixture of fluids. “Fuck…” He leans forward, but stops himself, mumbling, “If we weren’t in the woods, I’d, uh, help clean you up, but…”

Your eyes widen, taking in his words; neither of you are in a state to fuck around any further, but you make a mental note of the suggestion for the future. “I’m— I’ll remember that.”

Surging towards him with an ounce of renewed energy, you capture his lips in a long-awaited kiss. He makes the cutest noise of surprise, melding against you. Pausing, he murmurs against your lips, “Sorry we couldn’t do that first.” It’s a wild shift in his demeanor post-sex, from a dominant, feral wreck, to this soft, precious person before you.

“We can make up for it though.”

“After a super long fuckin’ nap.” Then he cringes, “And the— y’know, the whole—“ He waves his hand around, rolling his eyes, “the Vecna thing.”

“Right. Yeah. Priorities.” You’re looking forward to all of this coming to an end. All you want is to curl up in bed with Steve, and sleep a whole day away, but that’ll have to wait. 

As clarity brings you back down to earth, you realize you’re still naked from the waist down… which means— 

“Um… Steve?”

“Yeah, angel?”

“… Where’s my shorts?”

[protectingpluto]

Happy birthday to THE album of all time

[protectingpluto]

✦ sweet tooth - percy jackson x reader

summary: percy jackson can’t differentiate between multivitamin gummies and normal ones wc: 446 a/n: ok but seriously who allowed vitamin gummies to be so good…

you and percy were about to head to your aunt’s house. you were searching every drawer, every shelf, practically tearing your room apart.

you searched for that one bottle your aunt had specifically asked for. her reminder rang in your mind: “don’t forget those multivitamin gummies for your little cousin. for some reason, they’re the only ones she’ll have!”

but, of course, they’d vanished. 

after 5 minutes of searching to no avail, you whirled around, spotting percy sitting on your bed next to all your bags he had packed for the road trip. he was watching you with an equal parts confused and equal parts amused expression. 

“what are you looking for?” he asked curiously. “you need help?”

“yeah actually,” you sighed, running your hands through your hair.

strange. percy didn’t respond, and his silence made you turn around and give him a questioning look. “is there something you’re not telling me?”

he just sat there, mute, his gaze shifting away ever so slightly.

your eyes narrowed. suspicious, you turned to the bed’s edge and finally spotted the bottle lying beneath one of your tossed pillows. 

you picked it up, shaking it, but there was no familiar rattle. no sound at all.

the bottle was empty.

you looked up at percy, who blinked at you, the picture of innocence.

he stayed silent.

you stood up, giving him another look as you held the bottle up. “percy?”

“i’m sorry! i didn’t know they were multivitamin gummies!” he scrambled to defense, “they were so good— i tried one, and it was like something kept pulling my hand to the bottle—“ 

“you seriously ate them all?” you cut him off, pointing to the big letters in bold that read: 

MULTIVITAMIN GUMMIES for supporting growth, ages 3+. 

“percy!” 

he stared at it for a few seconds, eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinted, before his mouth fell open in O shape. 

he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “sorry…” he mumbled, before his voice pitched up as he remembered something, “but hey, in my defense, it’s not like i could read it!”

you sighed, waving the bottle in his face again to reiterate your point. “120 multi vitamin gummies, percy! one hundred and twenty!” you almost squealed. 

“forget my aunt or not being able to read it, how on earth did you manage to eat 120 gummies in one day?”

percy was silent, and he just blinked at you for a moment before shrugging.

“… 120 really good multivitamin gummies.” 

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