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aishaspen · 2 days ago

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𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 - 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑

summary: your father - Tony Stark, catches you and peter in a heated moment

warnings: making out, suggestive comments and jokes.

word count: 1.4k

The kitchen was filled with late morning sunlight and the smell of espresso pods you forgot to toss out. You were barefoot, hair still damp from your shower, wearing a tank top and some pajama shorts as you stacked clean dishes into upper cabinets.

“Okay, okay, but hear me out,” Peter said, leaning against the counter behind you, voice animated and a little breathless from excitement, “you know that scene in Return of the Jedi, when Luke walks into Jabba’s palace all calm and mysterious, like—totally owning the place?”

You smirked as you shoved another mug into its place and turned to glance over your shoulder. “Yeah?”

Peter nodded so fast his curls bounced. “Okay, so during the mission yesterday—remember the guys we were tracking near the docks? I did that exact walk. I’m serious. Hoodie blowing in the wind, full hero entrance. I even had my hood up like a cape. I felt so cool.”

You stifled a laugh. “And what happened?”

“I tripped over a box,” he muttered quickly, then went right back to grinning. “But before that? I was just like Luke. Big time.”

You closed the cabinet door and turned to face him fully now, drying your hands on a dish towel as you leaned against the kitchen island. Peter was wearing one of your dad’s oversized hoodies that you’d technically claimed a few months ago, but somehow Peter always ended up in it when he slept over. It was baggy on him, sleeves swallowed his hands, and the neckline hung just a little too wide on his collarbone.

Adorable.

He continued rambling, hopping slightly from foot to foot, like his brain couldn’t keep still. “Anyway, then it reminded me of that Clone Wars episode where Anakin and Obi-Wan—well, mostly Anakin—did this thing where they were totally outnumbered but somehow used, like, a cargo crate as a distraction. Which—fun fact—I used yesterday. I webbed a shipping crate, swung it into the alleyway—took out two guys. No lightsabers needed.”

You stepped forward slowly, biting your lip to keep from smiling too much.

Peter didn’t even notice at first, still caught up in his own whirlwind. “And then there was this part where I was hanging from the side of the scaffolding, and it was so Empire Strikes Back. Like, the whole dangling vibe. I was even humming the theme—”

You reached him in three slow steps and gently cupped his jaw.

He paused mid-thought, lips parting slightly in surprise. “Oh.”

You tilted your head, staring at him with a soft look, your thumbs brushing along his cheekbones.

“You’re so adorable, y’know that?”

Peter blinked, then let out a short, sheepish laugh. “Little ole me?” He joked, his smile plastered wide across his face

You didn’t answer. Instead, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

His hands hovered for a moment before they found your waist, fingers curling slightly, grounding himself in the moment. He kissed you back, deepening it a little with a quiet hum, noses bumping slightly before he smiled against your lips.

Peter was almost breathless, whispering “I think my brain just short-circuited.”

You grinned at him. “You know you love it.”

“Yes, yes I do.”

He kissed you again, longer this time—sliding his hands down to your hips as you wrapped your arms around his neck. The pace quickened, not heated but steady, full of that dizzy sort of affection that comes with knowing each other inside out.

Peter’s tongue traced your bottom lip, and you let him in, your fingers tangling in the ends of his hair. He chuckled into the kiss, clearly enjoying the way your hands tugged just a little.

You gasped slightly when he flipped you around and your lower back hit the counter edge. “Peter—”

“Shhh,” he teased, already kissing along your jaw as his hands gripped under your thighs and lifted you effortlessly onto the marble. You settled there with a breathy laugh, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

He leaned forward, pressing himself between your legs, his hands rubbing up and down them like second nature. Your hands were in his hair again, tugging, pulling, deepening the kiss.

He kissed you like he had all the time in the world.

“Hey kiddo, have you seen my—”

“What. The. FUCK.”

Your head snapped to the doorway to be met with none other than your father - Tony Stark. His eyes were shot wide, his jaw slightly slacked with his eyebrows halfway up to his hairline. Peter shot up with his eyes full of terror. You didn’t breathe. You both didn’t move a single muscle.

“Peter.” Tony spoke, his eyes remained wide before bringing a finger up as he shut his eyes, his hand shaking as he tried to remain semi-calm. “Get your hands off of my daughter this very instant or so help me-“

Peter’s voice cracked as he scrambled back. “Mr. Stark! I—I wasn’t—It’s not what it looked like—well, actually it was, but not—not in a bad way! We were just…kissing..” Peter finished his sentence with his head hanging low, eyes peaking up at your father who your sure would’ve lit on fire if he could.

Tony stepped inside the room slowly, hand already pinching the bridge of his nose. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Is this…is this real? Is this my life? On the counter we eat on? Seriously? That’s where I butter my English muffins, Parker!”

“Dadddd,” you groaned, sliding off the counter in shame, even though Peter’s hands had long left your legs.

Tony held up a hand. “No. Nope. I don’t want to hear the defense. I’m invoking my right as a traumatized parent to not know what the hell was about to happen in my kitchen.”

“We were just kissing! We weren’t gonna have se—” you started.

“NOPE,” Tony barked, hands flying into the air. “Nope! That’s it. I need to pour bleach into my ears and gorge my eyeballs out now.”

Peter looked like he was two seconds from crying. “Sir, I wasn’t trying to disrespect your—your kitchen, or your muffins, or your daughter, or—”

Tony’s eyes narrowed like lasers. “Kid. You were halfway to second base on a marble slab I eat toast off of. In MY tower. With MY daughter.”

“I’m so sorry,” Peter squeaked. “It’s just—she kissed me! And then the Force kind of took over and—”

“Are you seriously referencing Star Wars?” Tony was about to blow while he pointed his finger at Peter once again, which your boyfriend reacted with lowering his head like a lost puppy.

You covered your face with your hands. “This is literally the worst day of my life.”

Tony turned to you, eyes wide. “Worst day? I just caught Spider-boy sucking face with my daughter while she was on the damn kitchen counter! I win. I win that one.”

You dropped your hands with an exasperated sigh. “We weren’t doing anything bad, Dad! It was just kissing.”

Tony raised both hands and began pacing like he was about to deliver a TED Talk. “Oh, just kissing, she says. Just a casual little makeout session on my food-prep surface. What’s next? Foreplay in the suit garage? A quickie by the arc reactor? Where does it end?!”

Peter turned bright red. “I swear I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t planning to—”

“Planning,” Tony echoed, stopping dead in his tracks snapping his head directly at him. “There was planning involved?”

Peter looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. “No! I mean, not like—not planning planning, I just meant—”

Tony waved him off. “Kid, I’m two seconds from installing a laser turret in this kitchen that auto-targets your face.”

“Okay, that seems extreme,” you muttered.

Tony pointed at you, all dad fury and caffeine deprivation. “You don’t get to talk right now, Starklette. You looked like you were seconds away from giving me grandkids on a marble countertop.”

You blinked. “Did you just nickname me Starklette?”

Peter coughed into his hand to hide a laugh.

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Was that a laugh? Are you laughing? Is this funny to you?”

Peter shook his head furiously. “No. No, sir. I am so stressed I might throw up.”

“Good,” Tony muttered. “Let that guilt marinate.”

He walked back toward the counter, stared at it for a moment, then grabbed his untouched mug, only to realize the coffee inside had gone cold. He sighed deeply, like the universe personally betrayed him, and headed to the fridge.

“I need a drink. And it’s only 11AM,” he mumbled, opening the fridge door like it had wronged him. “Where’s the mimosa stuff—FRIDAY, make me something that tastes like forgetting.”

Peter looked at you, wide-eyed and whispering. “Should I leave before he starts building a Peter-proof panic room?”

You smirked, nudging him. “You’re fine. He’s just dramatic.”

Tony yelled from across the room, “I heard that, Starklette.”

Peter turned to him, trying one last time. “Mr. Stark, sir, I—I really do love your daughter. I’m not trying to hurt her. I’d never do that.”

Tony paused, standing still for a beat longer than necessary.

He took a sip of his orange juice and stared straight ahead and said dryly: “Cool. Love her from six feet away. Preferably from another borough.”

Peter gave a tight smile. “Copy that.”

You shook your head, grabbed Peter’s hand, and started pulling him toward the door. “Come on, Spider-Boy. Let’s get out of blast radius.”

“Bye, Mr. Stark,” Peter called, voice high and nervous.

Tony didn’t look up. “FRIDAY, make a new house rule: No boyfriends in the kitchen. Ever again.”

FRIDAY’s voice chimed politely: “Understood, boss.”

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aishaspen · 4 days ago

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Heyyyyyyyyy! I’ve recently become obsessed with your blog! I was wondering if for the 15k celebration you could write poly!marauders with free use and lots of dirty talk? 💖💖💖

⁀➷ Busy Day

✧ Pairing | Poly!Marauders x F!Reader

✧ A/N | heyyyy, welcome to my mess of a blog! Thank you for joining & sending this request, I hope you like it!

✧ Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dom/sub, free use, dirty talk, oral (f and receiving), public sex/oral, size kink, teasing, after care

✧ Words: 1.5k

15k celebration masterlist | my main masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

It’s not the discomfort of being damp between your legs that wakes you first; it’s that you’re audibly moaning that has your eyes opening.

It wasn’t unusual, not when you’d fallen asleep pressed firmly between James and Sirius, with Remus pressed up against the latter with his hand reaching over and resting on your waist.

But this morning? The sensation was unbearable, your body already aching with need.

You whimpered again, hoping one of them would stir, and thankfully, it’s Sirius who blinks awake first.

“Oh, what’s this then?” he says, voice low from just waking as he slips his hand under the covers where you’re rubbing your thighs together. His long fingers slip between your legs, finding the wet evidence of your arousal, “Greedy little thing, are you? Waking up needing cock.”

Your breath catches as he runs the tips of his fingers through your soaked lower lips, teasing. Remus groaned from behind him, “We’ve got class soon.”

“Don’t care,” Sirius says firmly, his mouth exploring your throat. “She’s fucking soaked, she needs me.”

James was now shifting, trying to wake himself up by yawning into your chest. “We can’t fuck her properly, or she won’t walk today, Padfoot.”

You mewled, needy and flushed, your fingers slipping beneath the covers to join Sirius’, pressing against your clit in urgent need as their words made it seem like they weren’t going to look after you.

“Please, anything, I need something.”

Remus leans over Sirius, kissing your temple, vice still heavy with sleep but firm. “You can have what you need, but you have to wait for it. Be patient, love. We’ll use you all day, promise.”

You nodded fast, hips twitching at his promise. “Yes, sir.”

CHARMS

Sirius was chewing gum and looking smug as ever. You knew why as he’d dragged you to the back of the classroom before anyone arrived, shoved your skirt up and instructed, “No knickers today. Don’t even think about covering up.”

Now you were squirming in your seat, feeling entirely exposed with your panties tucked firmly into Sirius’s backpack.

Ten minutes into class, your body nearly flew from the seat, breath hitching as Sirius disappeared from your side and slid beneath the desk. His firm hands wrapped around your thighs, spreading you open and pulling your arse to the edge of your seat.

You felt his tongue immediately, warm and greedy, flicking fast over your still-soaked clit. You tried to clamp your thighs together, pulse thingering, hands gripping the edge of the desk as you looked around, panicked.

James caught your eye, smiling across the room. “Professor?” he called out louder than usual, “Could you explain that last bit again? I think we’re all confused.”

There was no confusion in his gaze, just heat and the need to distract the class as you’re being pleasured.

Meanwhile, Sirius Black was devouring you, sloppy and ruthless, clearly trying to get you to cry out. He loved it, knowing you had to stay silent, even as your whole body felt like it was going to implode with the tightness coiling in your abdomen.

You came with a full body shake, eyes glassy as Sirius finally emerged, straightening his Gryffindor tie, wiping the edge of his mouth with his thumb and looking completely satisfied with himself.

CORRIDOR ALCOVE

Remus had waited until just after the morning bell. He backed you into a shadowed corner, one hand over your mouth, the other pushing the edge of your skirt up.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he admitted hungrily. “Thinking about how tight you’ll be, and how full you’ll feel with me inside you.”

Remus pressed against your back, where you could feel the evidence of how he felt, pressing into your spine. He was already throbbing and so fucking huge.

You moaned beneath his hand as he manoeuvred the two of you, pulling his erection from the confines of his trousers. It always took a minute of trying to find the correct position as you bent over, leaning your face against the stone as Remus lowered his height, so that he could even get his dick in.

The actual penetration was painfully slow and always so deep. Remus was always careful, though, even when he was rough, as he knew your body better than anyone. He knew exactly how to stretch you to your limit.

The head slipped in, aided by spit and the wetness of your earlier pleasure by Sirius. “You’re queezing me so tight, pup,” Remus grunted into your ear, keeping his voice below a whisper, having been in such a public place. Remus pushed deeper and deeper. “You love being filled up, don't you?”

You nod wildly, mouth still covered with his hand as tears form in your lashes from the welcomed stretch of his cock.

“Good girl.”

Those words had you tightening further as he bottomed out, holding your hip still with his other hand, giving you time to adjust to the intrusion.

Remus then set a brutal pace, keeping your body completely still, widening your legs with a kick of his feet, so make sure you were comfortable.

Class was due to start soon after, so Remus didn’t have time for teasing as his fingers pinched and pressed against your clit until you’re throbbing internally, orgasming around his dick.

“That’s it, you’re going to take every drop, understand?” he groans as he cums inside your cunt, his seed hot inside your belly as his hips still.

Later, you were waddling down the corridor, legs trembling, cum slipping down your thighs, and the smug glances from your boyfriends didn’t help.

“Come on, darling, walk properly. People will start to think you’ve been fucked,” Sirius teased whilst poking the tip of your nose.

James just offered his arm with a soft smile. “Need help, love? Maybe a walk in the grounds might help to clear your head.”

QUIDDITCH PITCH

James had practised an hour earlier, and you followed with him the entire way to the pitch, ignoring the discomfort between your legs. As you leaned up onto the tip of your toes to kiss him goodbye, he caught your wrist.

“Wait,” he said, pulling you into the changing rooms bathroom, eyes soft and needy. “Can I have some luck first?”

You already knew what he meant. Kneeling came easily as he placed his jumper on the floor to keep your knees clean. Your hands stroked his thighs before caressing over the visible bulge that throbbed under your touch.

With nifty fingers, you unzipped his trousers and teased in, gripping him firmly before taking him into your mouth. James gasped, mouth remaining open as his hands cupped your cheeks.

“Oh fuck, baby,” he rocked gently, never forcing. “You’re so good to me. Always so good. My perfect girl.”

The praise made you hum, swallowing him further until you’re gagging with him stroking the back of your throat. You always loved sucking off James, the little whimpers and praises constantly stroked that submissive part of your brain, making you feel content and happy.

“Merlin, I love your mouth, always takes me so well, that’s it, take my cock, my love,” he groans and then bites his lip to stop himself being so loud.

Your eyes never leave his as you continue to use your tongue underneath the sensitive head, sucking him deeper as your fingers massage his balls.

He came with a gasp of your na,e, eyes bright beneath his glasses, and leaned down to kiss your forehead after, tucking himself back in with a blissed-out grin.

“That’s my girl.”

GRYFFINDOR DORM

You were barely awake, dozing in the centre of the bed as Remus read, James hummed under his breath, and Sirius was drawing something crude on the side of your thigh with his wand tip.

And yet, you were still horny.

Remus noticed first, always noticing everything about you.

“She’s wiggling.”

“I think she’s trying to hump the sheets, “ Sirius mused.

“Are you still needy, love?” James cooed, moving closer to brush his hand over your bare hip.

You nodded sleepily, peeking up at them through one eye, face flushed with need.

They were gentle this time, seeing how soft and pliant you were on the bed.

James knelt between your thighs, cock pushing in slowly as Sirius kissed your lips and whispered praises. Remus sat behind you, holding your body up with his fingers circling your clit in time with James’ movements.

“You’re our good girl,” Remus praises, causing you to groan deeply, resting your head back again against his shoulders. “Let us take care of you.”

“Look how well she takes it,” Sirius groaned into your ear. “You were made for this.”

James had cradled your face. “you’re perfect, just look at you. So full of me, so fucking beautiful.”

You came with a broken cry, buried into James’s chest as Remus bit gently into your shoulder and Sirius massaged your thigh, holding it in place.

James came deep inside you, his cum mixing with what remains of Remus’s to the point it was starting to pool on the bed.

And yet, they knew you’d had enough and didn’t push for you to take more. They cleaned you up with such care that you were worried you would cry from the heightened emotions of such a lust-filled day. Wrapped in blankets with reassuring kisses to every part of your face, you held onto the three of them as you slipped into a peaceful sleep.

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aishaspen · 6 days ago

Note

himbo!james would cum just form giving head nghhh i love him

himbo!james cumming from eating you out

cw: smut. oral sex (fem receiving). cursing. praise. james is a MUNCH. nipple play. fingering. not proofread!

a/n: i wanna kiss you on the mouth for this anon OML—i received two asks about this y'all are freaks (and i LOVE IT). anyway, remember english isn't my first language!

he gets you on the bed so fast you barely have time to know what is happening.

one second you’re straddling his lap, kissing him fast and desperate because you’ve missed him so much, and the next he’s flipping you onto your back with that cocky smirk, crawling down your half naked body with a single thought in his head.

“what are you-”

“shh, baby. gonna have my meal now,” he mumbles, kissing your stomach, licking at the curve of your hip like he can’t get enough. “don’t need anything else. just—fuck, i just wanna taste you.”

and god, he really means that.

his hands are huge, holding your thighs and spreading you open, your cunt already glistening with need, so ready for him. his mouth falls open, pupils blown wide. you whimper when he presses hot, wet kisses to your inner thighs. slow and gentle in comparison to the one you shared a few minutes ago.

his voice is rough when he speaks again. “so pretty, baby. this all for me?”

you nod, your breath hitching. he grins for just a second before he dives in, groaning like your pussy’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him. the vibration goes straight to your clit, making you shiver.

he eagerly licks a long, slow stripe from your entrance to the sensitive bud of nerves, then does it again—messy and wild, his mouth sucking and lapping like a dog, moaning against your heat like he’s starving, like he’s sick and the only cure is the sweet thing that is your cunt.

“shit, angel,” he gasps in between licks. “you taste so fucking good.”

with a broken moan, you throw your head back as his lips wrap around your clit and start sucking and pulling softly, so filthy and perfect. he’s got one hand gripping your thigh and the other sliding up underneath your shirt to toy and rub your nipples between his fingers.

“you’re shaking,” he whispers, “you gonna come for me already?”

your hips roll against his face when his tongue touches you again, your thighs starting to close around his head, and instead of pulling out, he moans, loudly. he’s mentioned before he’d happily die between your legs, but you never really believed him until this.

“fuck—don’t stop—jamie, please.”

and then a finger slips inside you. thick and slow, curling just right because at this point he knows every inch of your body and how to push your buttons. his tongue flicks fast and wet over your clit as he fucks you with his hand, guiding you straight into oblivion.

“come on, sweetheart,” he groans. “give it to me. i want you dripping all over my face.”

you fall apart so hard your vision blurs.

your orgasm crashes through you, sharp and endless, but james doesn’t stop—he groans, fucking moans, but his tongue never slows. his fingers keep curling, milking every wave of pleasure out of you until you’re sobbing and trembling with overstimulation.

then it happens.

his body tenses, his hips grinding down into the mattress like he’s chasing something too. his hand flexes where it’s gripping your flesh, and you almost miss it—the way his hips stutter, how his moans get just a little more wrecked.

and he’s coming.

still fully dressed, whining into your pussy as he spills into his boxers—hot and leaving him soaked, like he couldn't stop even if he wanted to.

“oh fuck—fuckfuck, you’re so good—couldn’t help it,” he pants, his voice thick and slurred against your skin as he comes down the high. “didn’t have to touch myself, just— god, your taste.”

only then he pulls back, just a little. you can see his mouth slick and shiny, your fluids running down his chin. his cheeks flush when he notices you staring at his pants, a visible wet patch forming there.

“merlin’s beard,” he breathes, eyes wild with awe. “you come like a fucking dream.”

he presses a kiss to your thigh, then your hip, and flops up beside you with a dazed grin.

“that was… a religious experience.”

you laugh, still breathless. “did you really—?”

“yeah. and i’d do it again.”

and he absolutely will.

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aishaspen · 10 days ago

Text

𝘀𝗵𝗲'𝘀 𝘀𝗼 𝗵𝗶𝗴𝗵

summary: you thought that weed and uncle aegon could've been the perfect combo for the nicest afternoon. his jokes, the lightheartedness of the encounter, the hidden piece of freedom... weed left your mind dizzy, carefree, but you were enjoying it — you were with aegon, nothing could've happen to you. or at least, those were your illusions.

pairing: modern!aegon II targaryen x reader

word count: ~1.5k

warnings: not proofread, 18+ mdni, smut, NON-CON, aegon is ass!!, manipulation, reader doesn't understand a thing, language, oral sex (m receiving), drugs (?). ENGLISH ISN'T MY FIRST LANGUAGE!!!

author's note: this ISN'T my prompt, but i read it on @takemywearybones 's blog — i just can't find the post, i'm sorryyy 😭 this was sitting in my draft for a while, and ofc, i hate it :))) hope you can like this more than i do!!

divider by @firefly-graphics, love it!!

“don’t you want to make uncle aegon happy?”, aegon asks, a smirk on his lips, his tone is soft and he knows you are too far lost to catch on the clear manipulation and bad intentions hiding behind that pretty face.

you giggle, an uncoordinated hand reaches for him and the next thing aegon does is to push that same hand down his torso and to the bulge of his pants, his cock getting hard just at the thought of having those pretty lips wrapped around him.

his violet eyes are attentively fixed on you as he guides your flat palm over the fabric – of course aegon is alerted, the last thing he wants is for you to snap out of the bubble and realize how fucking wrong this is, how fucked up your uncle aegon’s mind is.

he can’t - and won’t - imagine your reaction if you regained your consciousness in the middle of it. you would probably cry, snap at him, scream and even might kick him in the balls – and aegon knows he deserves it. you would probably also run back to your family, tell everything to rhaenyra and viserys and it would be surely the end for aegon. but you don’t.

aegon might be worried, but thanks the fucking gods you are so gone and pliant your hand moves on its own, fingers lazily stroking the outline of his cock and it is enough to send a shiver down his spine. he groans and fights the urge to shift his hips against your touch, but he is careful to not startle you and so lets you go to your pace.

you barely understand what you are doing, you're able to register the hardness in your grasp and the sounds coming out of aegon’s lips – but not how wrong it is, not that you are stroking your uncle’s cock and how much of a shitty person he is. you don’t even realize aegon unbuttons his pants and wraps your fingers directly around his dick, your eyes focused on his face and finding solace in how good you are making him feel.

“that’s it, pretty girl,” his voice is low now, and you hardly understand his words because aegon leans forward and his head disappears in the crook of your neck. his lips plant open-mouthed kisses on the column of your throat and your skin tingles, making you moan louder than you should.

the sound goes straight to aegon’s core, his cock twitches in your hand and he wonders how many moans and whimpers he can coax out of you if that is your reaction to a few kisses on your neck. how would you react if he just slipped his fingers in you? would you scream? oh gods, aegon is sure you would if he could fuck you, his cock pistoning in and out of you. he bets your cunt feels like heaven.

aegon realizes those thoughts are sending him on the edge already and he barely got what he wants from you, and no matter how warm and soft your hand is—he wants a taste of your mouth, he wants to have your lips around him and hear you gag and choke on his dick.

a second later his lips are on yours, and the force aegon put in the kiss has you nearly lose balance and fall backwards. your response is messy and lazy, and aegon almost feels bad taking advantage of you in such a state, when your mind is so clouded it takes you a few seconds to understand what is happening to you—if you do. but when could an opportunity like this one recur again?

no, he is going to take it.

“aegon…”

“shh,” aegon nibbles at your bottom lip, your mouths connected by a thin string of saliva when he parts away from you. “want you to make me feel even better.”

by the way he phrases it, you have no choice. and it is not like you ever had one, since you can merely form a coherent thought or sentence. you nod wearily, a loopsided smile on your lips that has aegon almost lose it right there, his heart beating fast against his rib cage. he is going to do it.

his hand guides your head down his lap, his free one wraps around the base of his cock and gives it a shallow stroke. aegon can’t really complain about his size, but next to your face he feels even bigger and he fights the need of mercilessly fuck your face and your pretty little mouth. he can’t stop himself from lightly slap your cheek with it and you just giggle. aegon you should fucking stop it.

“open your mouth,” aegon demands and he is definitely not stopping. you willingly part your lips and even poke your tongue out, the sight is maddening and takes him every ounce of self control to not pounce on you.

finally your mouth envelopes him and aegon shudders, his eyes roll in the back in his head as your tongue takes a teasing lick of his tip and you can detect some saltiness invading your taste buds. you don’t have the time to flick it again that aegon pushes your head down, forcing you to relax your jaw and take more of his cock, more than you can manage. but you don’t know it.

aegon is surprised — he imagined it a lot more awkward, but you are taking him very well and he is very pleased, the waves of pleasure and the weak moans coming out of his lips prove it.

sure, your movement are uncoordinated and messy, and aegon definitely had better blowjobs in his life but his niece is a completely new experience, and you alone definitely make it better than anyone else.

he has to guide your head, the constant up and down has your mind spinning violently and for a second aegon is actually afraid you might throw up on him — and he doesn't want that at all. he gives you a break, relenting the grasp on your hair and maybe also starting to contemplate his choice, his entire life choices that brought him to this day.

his guilt is short-lived because your head willingly returns down his lap, your lips are stretched around him and aegon almost cums on the spot watching you struggle swallowing all of his dick. he wants you to choke on it, to hear those sweet gagging sounds.

you suck him eagerly, maybe your tongue is a little awkard — a few kitten licks here and there and aegon is torn between furrow his brows or smirk in amusement, curious to know what the fuck your mind is making you see and feel. what are you even imagining? to get so eager to lick his cock like a fucking lollipop?

does aegon really care? no, as long as you're doing your job. and you do it so well it's actually embarassing how short aegon lasts, because a few seconds later he's gently pulling at your hair and spilling all over your pretty face.

he barely feels his peak coming, but it must be one of his best in his disgusting life — the heat in his belly pools down in his groins, his balls tighten up and then he fucking explodes, your sweet and innocent features are marked by the result of his deprived mind. his hand frenetically strokes his sensitive cock, drawing out every last drop of his release until he's spent.

your scalp tingles as aegon grips your hair, the sensation has shivers running down your spine and a smile to appear on your face, but it's the warmth of his release that makes you giggle as your skin tickles. you don't know what it is, you're too focused on how fucking good the effects of the weed feel on your clouded mind.

aegon is sure, he has never seen a prettier sight than the one in front of him — pretty is an euphemism: hottest and maddening are more indicated. he can’t even explain how much is driving him insane the way you’re licking your lips, how your tongue cleans away his release. he helps you — because he’s such a good uncle — in his own way, his thumb traces across the soft and flushed skin of your cheeks, smudging his cum and claiming you as his in a dark way, in a way that has you unaware of the deep meaning of his actions.

of the wrongness of all of it.

but aegon won’t stop, and now that he’s got a taste — he’ll probably do it again.

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aishaspen · 10 days ago

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🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖ toxic till the end I ⌗ pairing: james potter x f!reader

ᝰ.ᐟ summary: part 2 (? idk the same thing but in james pov) of this!!

⤑ warnings: angst, literally no fluff, James blaming everyone and anything but himself, and cheating – 2.5k words

James knew you weren’t exactly happy with him at the moment. Just a few hours ago, you'd caught him talking to some girl near the courtyard. He wouldn't call it flirting — not really. He was just being friendly, charming maybe, but that was just how he talked. You got mad, and he figured you’d get over it by dinner. You always did.

But even in the shared classes you had today, you hadn’t once looked his way. Not even a glance. Usually, when you were upset, you’d sneak glances when you thought he wasn’t looking, eyes darting, stubborn but still soft. But today? Nothing.

James brushed it off. Told himself you were just being petty. You'd come around.

Still, something in his chest twisted uncomfortably, and it hadn’t left him since.

After classes ended, he told himself he’d wait, give you space, let you cool off but that ache in his chest only got worse. Eventually, he caved and went searching. He checked all your usual spots: the hidden corner in the library, the tree near the Black Lake. Nothing.

He almost gave up until one final place came to mind. The old clearing just past the gates. He told himself that if you weren’t there, he’d leave it alone. Let you come to your senses.

But then he saw you.

A single figure sitting in the tall grass, still and familiar. He sighed quietly in relief, the tension in his shoulders easing. Of course you'd be here. Of course.

You didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge him, but James noticed the slight shift in your posture. the way your back stiffened ever so slightly when he stepped on a dry leaf. You heard him. You always did.

He slowed as he approached, letting out a quiet exhale. He thought about walking away, letting you cool down more, avoiding a scene but he stayed. You could be dramatic sometimes, but he wouldn’t let your little meltdown win over him trying to fix things.

“Hey,” he said gently, carefully.

You didn’t respond. Your silence tightened something in his chest. It pissed him off a little. The way you ignored him like he had done something awful. Still, he kept it buried. No use pushing your buttons.

While you stared blankly at the trees ahead, James stared at you.

The curve of your shoulders. The tired way you held yourself. There was something different in the way you sat, like you were exhausted. Not angry. Not emotional. Just... done.

Regret started to crawl in then. Slow and quiet.

He wasn’t the best boyfriend. He knew that. But he tried, didn’t he?

Or at least, he thought he did.

That’s when he finally sat beside you.

“You’re not gonna curse me or throw something?” he said, trying to sound light, casual. Like things weren’t already falling apart.

Still, you didn’t look at him. “I thought about it.”

He let out a short laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Would’ve deserved it.”

“You do,” you replied, your voice sharper than he expected. Sharper than you probably meant it.

Silence dropped between you again. But it wasn’t peaceful. It wasn’t comforting. It was heavy. Final.

“I messed up,” he said eventually, voice low.

And for the first time, you looked at him.

His heart kicked in his chest some small, stupid part of him still hoping. But the flutter died the second he saw your face.

Your eyes were tired. Not puffy from crying, not blazing with rage, just tired. Empty. Done.

James frowned, confused. You looked... worn down. Hollowed out. But he hadn’t done that to you. Had he?

“You always mess up,” you said, quiet but steady. “That’s the only consistent thing about you.”

He winced. Not because it wasn’t true, but because you said it like a fact. Like you’d rehearsed it. Like you’d been holding it in for a long, long time.

He wasn’t used to this. You standing up for yourself. You not softening, not folding.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You scoffed. “But you still did. Over and over. And I let you.”

There was a long beat. Just wind in the trees and your voice in his head, over and over.

Then came the final blow.

“James, I never want to see your face ever again.”

He froze. The words sliced through him with a precision he hadn’t expected. No screaming. No drama. Just a clean break. And for once, you actually meant it.

James stared down at his hands, frowning, a crease forming between his brows.

You didn’t say the words ‘we’re done’ but he knew. You didn’t have to.

And maybe, maybe this should’ve felt like relief. Like freedom.

No more worrying about his “crazy” girlfriend getting jealous when he talked to other girls. No more Sirius bitching in his ear about how you were always nagging or how “you’d tamed the mighty James Potter.”

He was free now.

But the word tasted bitter in his mouth.

Because the truth was, he didn’t want to be free. Not from you.

He loved you. And maybe he was too much of a coward to say it — maybe that’s why your face always fell just a little when you said it first and he never said it back.

James felt like a bloody idiot.

His mind started racing, flooded with memories. The late-night walks. Your sleepy laugh. The way your fingers curled when you were anxious. The way you looked at him like he was good, even when he wasn’t.

And he was so caught up in those memories, all the things he should’ve said, should’ve done, that he didn’t even notice you’d stood up.

Didn’t notice until it was too late.

You were already yards away, your figure retreating into the trees, back turned, your pace steady. You didn’t look back.

If he’d noticed sooner, maybe he would’ve stopped you.

But he didn’t.

And this time, he knew...

You weren’t coming back.

🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖

James made it back to the common room about thirty minutes before dinner. Sirius, Remus, and Peter were already lounging on the worn couches, the fire crackling lazily behind them.

The moment James stepped in, Sirius glanced up and raised an eyebrow, that smug little smirk tugging at his mouth, the same look he always wore whenever James disappeared for too long. He didn’t have to say anything. James knew what he was thinking.

He thought James had been off shagging someone again.

And why wouldn’t he? Sirius was the only one James had ever told about the cheating. He couldn’t tell Remus or Peter, they’d get pissed. They’d judge him. Probably even tell you. But Sirius? Sirius encouraged it. Said it was normal. Said that “blokes need variety” and that you were too much work anyway.

So of course he thought James had just been off with another girl.

But he hadn’t.

No, this time he’d just gotten his heart broken by the same girl he swore to everyone, especially Sirius, was the worst girlfriend on the planet.

He dropped into the open seat next to Remus, letting out a slow sigh as he leaned back and stared up at the ceiling like it might have answers.

Remus glanced at him, confused, then looked to the other two for an explanation. Sirius only shrugged, still smirking faintly. Peter blinked and kept quiet.

James didn’t say anything.

He just stared at the ceiling, jaw tight, heart pounding too loud in his ears.

He hadn’t cried. He wasn’t going to cry. But he felt weird. Off. Like the world had tilted a little to the left and no one else noticed but him.

And somehow, Sirius’s smirk only made it worse.

James was still deep in thought when the other boys stood up, ready to head down to the Great Hall for dinner. The only thing stopping them was James.

“Mate?” Remus asked, hovering near the back of the couch. “You coming?”

James blinked, like he’d only just realised where he was. His hands were still clasped in his lap, fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on his sleeve.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “He’s fine. Probably just tired from all the studying he was doing.”

Peter snorted.

James didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look at them.

Remus frowned. “Seriously, you alright?”

James finally sat up, running a hand through his hair, the same way he always did when he was stressed but trying to pretend otherwise. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Just... thinking.”

Sirius clapped him on the shoulder. “Thinking too much’ll kill you, mate. C’mon. Let’s eat.”

The other boys filed out ahead, their voices trailing down the corridor. James followed a few steps behind, quieter than usual.

As they made their way to the Great Hall, his thoughts stayed tangled, all sharp edges and old memories. The clearing. Your voice. That look in your eyes. How cold your words had been. How final.

He kept his head low as they entered the hall. It was already buzzing with noise, laughter, clinking silverware, first years whining about the meatloaf.

James’s eyes instinctively searched for you.

But a frown tugged at his lips when he spotted your friends, Isla and Lydia, seated at your usual spot without you. They were talking quietly, heads close together, but you were nowhere in sight.

It was strange, suddenly looking for you again. He hadn’t done that in weeks. Maybe months. Not since the second month of your relationship, when things were still soft and new and he actually tried. Somewhere along the line, he’d stopped checking the crowd for your face. You’d always been there. Always come to him.

But now, with your absence so loud in the room, he felt off-balance. Like trying to find someone in a crowd and realising you don’t even know what you’re looking for anymore.

Then a hand landed on his shoulder, shaking him slightly.

Sirius.

James blinked, pulled out of the fog. “You alright, mate?” Sirius asked, his voice low, not out of concern, more curiosity.

James just nodded, jaw tight, and followed him to the Gryffindor table. But even as he sat, even as food appeared in front of him, his thoughts stayed somewhere else.

With you.

Where were you? Were you avoiding him? Still angry?

No. Not angry. You hadn’t looked angry the last time he saw you.

You’d looked done.

And that, somehow, was worse.

🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖

James woke up that morning looking like a whole new person — and not in a good way.

He felt like shit.

His head ached, his chest felt heavy, and all he wanted was to stay curled under the covers and rot for the rest of the week. But of course, that wasn’t an option. It was Thursday. Classes still existed. Life, unfortunately, went on.

He let out a long sigh and glanced around the dorm. Remus was already up and dressed, predictably organised. Sirius had just woken up, stretching with a dramatic groan. Peter was still snoring softly, completely unaware of the storm brewing in James’s chest.

Eventually, all four boys found themselves at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Food appeared on golden plates, the chatter of students swelled around them, but James wasn’t listening. He was too busy scanning the hall, eyes darting across the tables, searching for you.

You weren’t there.

Neither were your friends.

And weirdly, that made it okay. If they were gone too, maybe it meant you weren’t avoiding just him. Maybe you’d all slept in. Maybe you were in the library. Maybe—he didn’t know.

He didn’t realise how obvious he was being until Sirius spoke, casually, like he was talking about the weather.

“By the way,” Sirius said, loud enough for the group to hear, “James and his girl aren’t speaking. Might be a full-on breakup, finally.”

James’s head snapped toward him, jaw clenched. He didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes said enough: Shut up.

But it was too late.

A few seats down, a girl perked up. Her name was Arabella — a pretty Gryffindor with a sharp voice and a habit of inserting herself into things that didn’t concern her. James had fooled around with her once, months before you and him had ever become official. He didn’t even remember much of it. But she remembered everything.

She was next to him in seconds, sliding into the open seat at his side like she’d been invited.

“You and her are done?” she asked sweetly, already reaching for his arm, curling her fingers around it like it belonged to her.

James stiffened.

He didn’t pull away. Not yet.

But he didn’t look at her either.

His eyes stayed locked on the doors, willing you to walk through them.

“We aren’t speaking right now. We’re still together,” he muttered.

It was a lie. A pathetic one. And anyone listening could hear it in his voice.

Arabella rolled her eyes. “Ugh, she keeps holding you hostage. You cheat on her all the time, but never with me. Let’s fix that, yeah?”

James’s stomach turned. The little food he’d managed to eat suddenly sat like stone.

He hated hearing it out loud, and hated how casual she made it sound. Like what he did to you was some open secret. Like it wasn’t supposed to matter.

He finally looked at her, his expression cold.

“No thanks.”

She blinked, clearly confused. Rejection wasn’t something James Potter usually handed out, especially not to girls like her.

But she didn’t budge. She stayed pressed up beside him, far too close, closer than you had been in weeks. Closer than you’d ever be again.

And maybe that was the part that really stung.

James was too distracted trying to subtly push her away, all while shooting Sirius a venomous glare for opening his mouth in the first place. Sirius, of course, just shrugged like it wasn’t his fault.

Because of all that, James didn’t notice when you walked into the Great Hall.

Not at first.

It wasn’t until he was about to leave, deciding he’d had enough of Arabella’s clinging and empty flirtation, that his eyes wandered toward your house’s table, the way they always used to, back when you still smiled at him.

You weren’t in your usual spot. He almost sighed and looked away.

But then he saw you.

You were at the far end of the table, flanked by your two friends.

Smiling.

And it wasn’t the polite kind you gave when someone asked if you were okay.

It was real.

And James felt it like a punch to the ribs.

Because for the first time in a long time, you looked light, like a weight had been lifted off you.

And he was just now realising he had been that weight.

lets go finally finished this, what do we think👅🙏🗣️

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aishaspen · 11 days ago

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Date Night and Diapers

remus x y/n

summary: a short little oneshot! sirius babysits as you and remus go on your first date night since having your daughter and you come back a little tipsy and very spicy.

warnings: implication of sex (and daddy kink oop)

y/n: your name

submit requests here! | masterlist

author's note: remus as a girl dad because i just feel like he'd be such a great girl dad 😭

the door nearly slammed into the wall as you and remus stumbled through. it was your first date night since becoming new parents, and you definitely felt the effeects of it. you didn't know where you ended and he started; you were so entangled in each other, making out shamelessly like you used to as teenagers. but you weren't a teenager anymore - the nights of drunken make-out sessions at the party in the common room were gone, replaced by late-night diaper changes and getting tipsy after one glass of wine.

"shh, we're going to wake sirius up!" you giggled against his lips when remus reached for the coat rack and knocked it over, but he only grunted and deepened the kiss even more.

you walked backwards, refusing to unlock your lips from your husband's, and tripped over a stray shoe. remus caught you just in time and pulled you back into him. he whispered, "careful there, pretty. you don't want to break those beautiful ankles of yours."

"oh, my ankles, huh?" you wrapped your arms around remus's neck to draw him down until your noses brushed against each other and your lips tickled his, "my goodness, moony, i knew you were a wild one but i didn't know you were this wild."

he closed the gap between your lips and between kisses, replied, "only for you, my love."

"get a room, idiots." sirius's groggy voice called out, only a tad louder than a whisper. evidently, he had not been asleep.

at the beginning of the night when he first arrived to babysit your daughter, he had taken her from your arms almost immediately and shooed the two of you out of the house. two hours later, he was corpse-like in the armchair by the fireplace with towels flung over his shoulder, baby bottles scattered on the floor, and your daughter, fast asleep, strapped across his chest in the baby bjorn. his head was resting on the teddy he had bought her.

remus rolled his eyes and whispered as to not wake your daughter up, "padfoot, this is our house. the entire place is our room." you stifled a laugh as sirius simply waved a hand at remus and dismissed him completely.

"fine. whatever. just go do it somewhere else. quietly. and do NOT wake her up." the last sentence came out as a hiss of someone who had just battled a fussy baby to sleep.

you took a step towards sirius, reaching out for your daughter, and started to ask, "do you want me to take –" but before you could finish your sentence, remus was tugging you away.

"no no no, you heard him, y/n, he said we could go do it somewhere else. so i'm doing you somewhere else."

from behind you, sirius mumbled, "get it, moony." before falling asleep again.

you smirked at remus and looked up at him through your lashes in the way you knew drove him crazy, and purred, "you're going to do me? wow you're so romantic, so charming." remus moaned and pulled you into the bedroom. he pushed you onto the mattress with an animalistic look of hunger in his eyes and growled, "oh, y/n. you don't even know."

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aishaspen · 14 days ago

Text

⁀➷ Sticky Fingers // Poly!Marauders x F!Reader

Summary: Sirius had his little stash of enchanted sweets that he always claimed were "too strong for you." But you want to feel what he feels, to have fun like they do when they're soft and floaty and grinning. So when you’re left alone and curious, you make a mistake, eating an entire magical aphrodisiac meant to be split between four. What follows is hours of heat, begging, and unbearable need.

Requested by: Anon -- listen, I appreciate & loved this request so much omg, thank you so much! I hope it's not too much for you <3

A/N: PSA; LMAO this is filthy as hell.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, Dom!Remus, Mean Switch!Sirius, Soft Switch!James, Innocent!Reader, dom/sub, drug use (smoking weed/edibles), aphrodisiac, sex pollen effects, extreme body reaction, size kink/difference, begging, crying, rough sex, praise kink, degradation, fingering, belly bulge, squirting, cockwarming, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, subspace, aftercare, slight angst

Words: 6.7k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The Gryffindor common room was warm with an orange hue from the fire, and faint laughter crackling beneath the noise of pages turning.

You sat curled in the crook of James’s lap, your cheek against his chest as he read aloud from one of your shared textbooks, his voice steady and comforting, even though you weren’t listening anymore.

Sirius was pacing nearby, fidgety and barefoot, hair mussed from where he kept tugging on it. His shirt was barely buttoned, and he had that smug look that always meant he was up to something.

Remus, curled sideways in an armchair, long legs hanging over the armrest, watched Sirius with the patience of a saint and the suspicion of someone who knew him far too well.

“So when exactly were you going to tell us?” Remus asked, lazily turning a page in his worn copy of The Hobbit.

Sirius grinned and flopped dramatically into the chair opposite. “Shipment came in this morning. You should’ve seen the owl. Grumpy bastard nearly bit me.

Remus’s brows lifted. “And what exactly did this grumpy owl bring you, hmm?”

James snorted against your temple. “Something that’s going to get us all banned from the tower if McGonagall catches wind of it.”

Sirius wiggled his eyebrows and leaned over to tap the side of his nose. “Let’s just say, the good stuff. Two rolls and three little boxes, plus the new batch of glitter ones. Stronger than last time.”

You blinked, sitting up slightly from James’s chest. “Glitter ones?”

All three of them paused, the kind of pause that made it very obvious they’d forgotten you were in the room.

Sirius immediately flashed you a charming, toothy grin. “Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about, darling.”

James kissed the side of your head, smoothing a hand down your back. “Just stuff we use to unwind. Not really your thing, love.”

Remus, of course, watched you closest. His green eyes flicked over your expression, studying the soft knit of your brows, the way your lips parted just slightly.

“You’re curious,” he said simply.

You ducked your head back into James’ chest, cheeks going warm. “A little.”

Sirius barked a laugh, and James squeezed you gently. “Our little pup wants to go to the moon with us, eh?”

Remus didn’t laugh. His voice lowered just enough to draw your eyes to him. “Curious is one thing. Ready is another.”

~~~~~

The Astronomy Tower always felt like their place. Above the school, above the rules – high enough that it felt like the stars were listening. Sirius had a blanket spread on the stone floor and his cloak wrapped around his shoulders, loose like a shawl. He passed the joint to James with practised ease, laughing around a story you weren’t following.

James sat beside you this time, his hand playing absently with yours. You were snuggled between him and Remus, your head tucked on Remus’s shoulder, both of them warm in the cool night air.

Sirius exhaled smoke toward the stars. “Felt like the first time I saw Reg got absolutely slaughtered on firewhisky. Poor bastard tried to flirt with a mirror.”

James howled with laughter, and even Remus let out a soft chuckle as you rocked with the movement.

You watched them quietly, now hugging your knees to your chest, oversized jumper keeping you warm. They all looked so comfortable, maybe the thing they were smoking smelled funny, but you wanted to feel it too. Feel as relaxed and laugh as hard as they did.

Sirius caught you watching and winked. “Want some, darling?”

You hesitated. “I… maybe? I want to feel what you’re all feeling.”

Remus shifted beside you, his hand heavy against your shoulder, pulling your body until you’re flush against his chest, relaxing into his arms. “It’s not just the joint, love.”

You look up at him over your shoulder, “I thought what you were smoking was making you all feel funny?”

Sirius held up the joint between his fingers. “This, yeah. But I also took a little gummy about an hour ago.” He grinned, proud of himself. “The kind that makes everything feel like clouds and lava all at once.”

James added helpfully, “We took them together before dinner. Mine just kicked in.”

You blinked. “So you’re not just high. You're extra high?”

“Basically.” Sirius passed the joint to James, who took another slow drag, tilting his head toward the sky as he exhaled. “Which is why, love, you might want to wait. This stuff’s not for baby puppies.”

“I’m not a baby,” you mutter, leaning further into Remus with your arms crossed.

Remus’s gaze was sharp, though his touch around your waist was gentle. “No. But you’re ours. And we don’t want you to rush into something you don’t understand.”

James flicked ashes into a little enchanted jar. “We should show her the stash. So that she knows what’s what.”

“Not up here,” Remus said immediately. “Late, maybe. With all of us.”

James leans over, nuzzling your cheek and whispering, “We’ll take care of you, yeah? Always.”

You melt into his touch, giggling to yourself as he kisses all over your face.

Back in the dorm later, the boys let you sit on the edge of their bed as Sirius knelt beside the bottom drawer of his trunk, unlocking it with a quiet flick of magic.

Inside was a velvet-lined box. Several, actually.

Your eyes went wide.

“This,” Sirius began, holding up a shimmery purple chocolate, “is one of the glitter ones. Warmth, light body float, extra giggly.”

He picked up a deep blue one. “This? Time goes weird. Don’t recommend unless you’ve got nothing to do for twelve hours.”

The third is glittery pink, pretty. “This is one I had earlier. Not too strong, just makes you feel happy and relaxed.”

Another, red and shaped like a heart. “This one’s a little special. I was saving it. Makes you, well, hot. All over. Can’t think straight. Touch feels like lightning. Fun for group nights.”

You’re left with more questions than answers. “Hot?”

Remus’s hand slid gently over your lower back. “Aroused, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” you breathed, eyes wide.

Sirius grinned wolfishly and snapped the box shut. “But not for you. Not yet.”

James chuckled, pulling you into his lap. “Not until our good girl is ready. And when you are…” He brushed his lips to your ear, biting on the lobe. “We’ll take care of every inch of you.”

Remus leaned down and kissed your forehead like a promise. “No rushing. No pressure.”

Sirius blew out a breath and flopped backwards onto the bed. “Can’t believe we’re this responsible now. Look at us.”

“Shocking,” Remus deadpanned.

You giggled and curled closer to James, your head on his chest as he rubbed your back.

And as you eventually drifted off in the tangle of arms and warmth, the drawer with the stash stayed in the corner of your mind. Tucked away. Waiting.

~~~~~

The sun was lazy and warm, stretching gracefully across the Hogwarts lawn. It was a rare afternoon, no rain, no wind, no assignments due, just grass, light and the soft hum of spring.

You were curled sideways in Sirius’s lap on a blanket they’d laid out beneath a tree, his arms draped lazily around your waist, his chin hooked over your shoulder. He smelled like cedarwood, smoke and the last of his cologne, and he was warm–too warm, probably, with how the sun bathed the back of his black humper. Not that he cared. Sirius loved the drama of melting for you.

Remus was stretched out nearby, one knee bent, flipping lazily through Advanced Potion Brewing, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up past his forearms so a couple of his scars were visible. James sat beside him, close enough that their legs brushed, his fingers plucking bits of grass and twirling them around. His hair was wild from Quidditch practice, cheeks still flushed pink from exertion.

Sirius blew on your neck. “You’re squirmy today, darling.”

“I’m not,” you mumbled, shifting again to get comfortable. “You’re warm.”

“You love my warmth.”

“I love your mouth shut,” Remus mused without looking up from his book.

“Rude,” Sirius chuckled against your ear. “You hear that? Verbal abuse. In front of a lady.”

James snorted. “You deserve worse, Padfoot.”

“You usually give me worse,” Sirius purred.

That earned a flicker of reaction. Remus’s eyes slid sideways, just enough to pin James in place.

“You do?” you asked softly, turning your head toward James. James’s ears turn pink.

“I mean, sometimes,” he said, tossing the grass away and sitting back. “When Moony lets me.”

Remus’s lips quirked. “When you earn it.”

You felt Sirius’s arms tighten around your waist slightly as he watched them, interest spiking like a cat watching prey. “Here we go,” he whispers into your shoulder.

Remus sat up slowly, his gaze still trained on James. “You’re getting twitchy again, love.”

“I’m fine,” James said a little too quickly, his hands now picking at the hem of his shirt.

“Mm,” Remus reached out, caught Jame’s chin gently between his long fingers, and turned his face to look up at him. “That mouth’s getting cheeky. You sure you don’t need help with that?”

James opened his mouth to sass, but Remus kissed him before he could get the words out. Firm, slow, all knowing. James melted instantly. His hands dropped, and you could see the tension leave his body in waves as Remus deepened the kiss.

Sirius chuckled lightly to himself, clearly delighted. “Gods, I love when he goes soft like that.”

You were watching, wide-eyed, as James whimpered against Remus’s mouth, just once, and Remus took that as an invitation to push him gently backwards until James was leaning on his elbows, staring up like he couldn’t remember what the sky looked like.

“Is he…” You trailed off.

“Melting?” Sirius answered. “Yeah. Happens every time.”

Remus finally pulled back, licking his bottom lip like he was tasting victory. James was flushed, breathless, and slightly stunned.

“You already, pretty boy?” Remus asked softly.

James blinked. “Yeah.”

Sirius grinned, nuzzling your cheek. “I adore watching them. Don’t you?”

You nodded slowly, heat pooling in your belly. The air felt warmer. Everything felt more.

You shifted in Sirius’ hold, curling in closer, and said before you could chicken out. “So if I wanted to try the glitter one, I’d just take a quarter, right?”

Everything stilled. Sirius barked a laugh and leaned his head back, grinning toward the sky. “Merlin, that’s adorable.”

Remus turned his head slowly, one brow lifting. “A quarter?”

“That’s what you said, Sirius–”

“I said a quarter of the purple one if you’re new, not the glitter,” he corrected, smirking. “The glitter one will have you think you’re a mermaid and trying to swim in the sink. It’s euphoric and bright and made, absolutely not starter level.”

James sat up again, still slightly flushed in the cheeks. “Isn’t the glitter one that makes everything smell like strawberries?”

“No,” Sirius said dramatically. “That’s the fizzy. Gods, none of you ever listen to me.”

Remus was now just watching you, head tilted slightly. “Do you even remember what the shimmer one does, love?”

You take a moment to think, “Hands glow?”

“Nope,” Sirius said gleefully, enjoying this moment far too much.

Remus gave you a look that was all affection, all fondness, but with just enough edge to remind you who was in charge. “Not quite ready yet, pup.”

You pouted, turning slightly to tuck your face into Sirius’s neck. “I’m trying.”

“I know,” Remus said gently. “And I love that you’re curious. Bu we’ll wait.”

James scooted forward and kissed your knee. “You’ll get there, sweetheart. And when you do…”

Sirius whispered against your ear, “We’ll make it a very good night.”

You squirmed, suddenly shy again. Sirius gave a lot to him and looked back toward James and Remus, watching the lingering way Remus’s hand rested on James’s thigh now. “Well. Somebody’s getting marked tonight.

James groaned and chucked a flower at him. Remus looked entirely unbothered.

Then the bell rang, echoing faintly through the grounds.

James sighed. “Quidditch. Come on, Padfoot. Let the poor girl go.”

Remus stood and stretched. “Prefect rounds.”

Sirius helped you to your feet and kissed your cheek. “Be good.” He winked. “Or don’t. We’ll find out later.”

James kissed you twice, once on the cheek, once on your lips, and whispered, “Our girl.”

Remus’s hand trailed briefly along your lower back as he passed. “We love you. No exploring the drawers while we’re gone.”

Your cheeks burned. “I won’t!”

They walked away with teasing murmurs and shoulder bumps, Sirius turning around to blow you a kiss before Remus shoved him forward.

You sat back down in the grass with the scent of them still lingering in the breeze, heart whole, belly warm.

An hour passed before you stood from the lawn and decided to head back to the shared dorm room. It was always eerily quiet without any of them in there.

Sirius had left a mess of clothes scattered across the floor, his leather jacket draped over Remus’s desk chair, and James’s broom sat resting against the foot of his bed. The scent still lingered on the pillows, and it was comforting, but not enough.

You were curled in the centre of their oversized bed, arms hugging your legs, chin tucked between your knees. Why was it always so boring when they weren’t around?

You did try just to relax, listening to Remus’s records or reading some of your books, but the drawer kept catching your eye.

Maybe you weren’t ready. But you were tired of feeling left out and being treated like a baby. They all got to float and laugh and kiss and touch each other like nothing in the world could ever go wrong. And you watched that.

You watched to show them you could handle it, that you weren’t just the sweet, sheltered pup. You could be bold. You could belong.

You sat on the edge of the bed, chewing your lip, staring at the drawer like it might open itself.

And then you stood, the drawer wasn’t locked. You opened it slowly, tentatively. Inside the velvet boxes, little tins, colour-coded chocolates and candies lay. You tried to remember which one was which.

“Purple. Quarter. Starter one.”

You squirted. Was the purple one the shimmer? Or the calm one? Your eyes landed on a deep red heart-shaped sweet in a velvet box. Small. Pretty. Safe-looking, not remembering the specifics of the effects that Sirius had explained.

You plucked it out of the pouch and turned it over in your hand. You bit off a corner—just a nibble. Then, after a second, another, until the sweet was consumed completely.

It tasted like a blend of rose and strawberry, with a slight hint of spiciness. Your heart pounded, and you waited. And nothing happened.

No floating, no laughing or waves of bliss. Your shoulders sank. “Seriously?”

You gave it a few more minutes, paced a little, even sat cross-legged on the bed, waiting for anything. But there was no difference. Your tongue still worked. Your mind was clear. Nothing was spinning—no sherbet flavours or dreamy sighs.

Disappointed, you changed into your uniform and headed down to dinner.

The Great Hall was busy, buzzing with students. The candlelight above seemed a little brighter tonight, but you figured it was just your eyes adjusting.

You found them halfway up the Gryffindor table. Sirius immediately scooted over nd patted the bench beside him. “There’s my girl.”

James beamed from the other side of the table. “You look sweet enough to eat.”

Remus gave you a look. A very Remus look. Like he was scanning you for signs of trouble, and your heart did a nervous flutter.

But then he smiled and tugged you gently to sit between him and Sirius. “Missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you said quickly, averting your eyes, always embarrassed when all their eyes are on you.

Sirius leaned over and kissed your temple tenderly, and your breath caught. For just a moment, your skin tingled.

Weird.

You tried to shake it off. It was probably just your imagination or nerves.

Reaching for your goblet, your hands were just the tiniest bit shaky.

“Eat something,” James encouraged. “You’ve gone all flushed.”

“She always does when she has Remus’ full attention on her,” Sirius says proudly, planting another kiss on your skin. “Don’t worry, pup, I do too.”

You smiled, biting back a laugh, and then you felt it.

A low throb in your belly.

You shifted on the bench. Remus was buttering a roll. His hand brushed your knee under the table—just casual, absent-minded affection.

You nearly jolted. Your thighs clenched painfully close. Heat licked up your spine.

You took a shaky breath, eyes flicking to the doorway, the ceiling, anywhere but them.

Sirius reached across you to steal a bite from James’s plate, his arm brushing your chest. “Oi, Prongs, don’t hot the potatoes, love.”

James rolled his eyes and leaned across the table closer to you, reaching over the centre to grip your hand. It was meant just to be a soft show of affection. That’s when you felt it for real.

The ache. Low. Deep. Hot.

Your underwear was damp. Then soaked. Like a tap had opened up between your thighs but it was from your cunt. You froze. Your thighs were wet.

Your stomach cramped sharply, curling inward like a clenched fist. “Oh god,” you whispered, not being able to stop yourself.

Remus looked at you sharply. “What’s wrong?”

You forced a smile, unable to meet his eye, picking up your fork. “N-Nothing. Just a stitch.”

Sirius leaned in closer. “You alright, darling?”

Your eyes burned. Panic bloomed in your chest. You could feel it pooling beneath you, heat, slick, an unbearable pressure in your lower belly as if you needed something and didn’t know what.

You whimpered without meaning to.

Remus’s eyes narrowed, concerned. “Love…”

James’s hand is across the table again, holding onto your wrist, his thumb stroking your skin in soothing strokes. “Wha’ts hurting?”

His touch was making the sensation worse. “ I-I just need–” you couldn’t finish.

You stood up abruptly. Too fast.

Sirius tried to reach for you, but you were already sliding out of the bench on unsteady legs. “Bathroom,” you choked out. “Be right back.”

And you ran. You bolted from the Great Hall, barely aware of your feet hitting the stone, of the voices calling after you.

Your hands trembled as you pushed open the nearest door and locked it behind you, sagging against it with a sob.

Your underwear was soaked. Your thighs were dripping. Your clit was a hard nub, filled with blood and throbbing. The cramps were worse, like your body was begging, screaming, clenching for something, but nothing could fix it.

You were shaking so violently that your teeth were chattering together. You slid to the floor, pressing your palm against your belly, trying not to cry.

You were so stupid. You’d wanted to prove something. To feel like them. To be strong, like Sirius. Cool, like James. In control, like Remus.

But now your body was on fire. And your mind was foggy. And you were so wet that it was running down your legs. And you didn’t even know how to make it stop.

They were going to be so angry. Or worse, they’d be disappointed. You buried your face in your hands.

Outside, the sounds of the castle continued: laughter, footsteps, the clinking of cutlery. But in here? You were falling apart.

~~~~~

The dorm door slammed behind you as you stumbled inside, your fingers trembling before you collapsed onto the edge of the magically sized bed, big enough for all four of you.

As you curled into a ball, all you could feel was how soaked the sheets became the second you sat down. You were panting. Seating. Your skin was boiling. Every inch of you is too tight, too sensitive. Your thighs were slick with arousal, and your panties were drenched; the cramping in your belly was sharp, needy and awful all at once.

You whimpered and clutched at your stomach. “Please…”

You didn’t know who you were begging. Everything hurt. You needed something, anything, to make the pain go away; you just didn’t know what to do.

You’d been stupid. So stupid.

The door suddenly bangs again—voices and rushed steps.

You barely lifted your head before they were flooding in.

“Pup?” All three of your boyfriends stopped dead.

You were curled up on the bed, trembling, your skirt bunched around your hips, one leg pulled up, and your panties, if they could still be called that, were completely soaked, translucent, sticking to your thighs.

The scent of your arousal hit the air like a spell. Sirius was the first to move, instinct sharp and immediate. “Fuck. Fuck, darling–” he was at your side in seconds, on his knees in front of the bed, hands hovering but not touching. “What happened?”

You sobbed, grabbing at his shirt, nails digging into the fabric. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s happening– it hurts, I can’t– I’m so– I’m so wet–”

Remus moved slowly, deliberately, coming up behind you as Sirius cradled your face. James hovered near the door, stunned, lips parted.

Then Remus’s eyes flicked to the drawer. It was open. Wide open. And a red velvet box was missing.

Realisation hit him like lightning. “No. Tell me you didn’t–”

“I just– I wanted– to feel like you– to be strong–” your voice cracked, high and frantic. “I only took the one. I thought it was the nice one–”

Sirius's breath hitched. “What colour, love?”

“Red,” you whispered.

James finally moved, crossed the room and dropped to his knees at your other side. “Oh, love–no.”

“That was the aphrodisiac”, Remus said tightly, jaw clenching. “The strongest one.”

Sirius cupped your face gently, his voice tense. “That was meant to be split for the four of us. Together. You weren’t–fuck, darling, you weren’t ready for that.”

“I know,” you whimpered. “I know, I didn’t know– I tried to be good–”

Remus turned to Sirius. “How strong was it?”

“Really fucking strong.”

Your hips rolled without meaning to. “Please–” you sobbed, tears dripping down your neck. “I can’t– everything hurts– I need – please touch me–”

James climbed onto the bed, stroking your face. His hand found your inner thigh, and his breath hitched. “She’s soaked, Moons. Dripping everywhere.”

Remus’s jaw ticked. “We’ll help you, sweetheart. Just breathe for me, year?”

You nodded frantically, gripping onto the pillow beneath your head and moving it between your legs, rocking your soaked core against it, needing some form of relief.

“Good girl,” Sirius said, voice low, eyes locked on where you’re riding his pillow between your thighs. “You’re gonna let us take care of you. You’ve been so brave.” Your body trembled, completely overwhelmed.

You didn’t even realise you were crying until Remus kissed the tears off your cheeks.

“Love,” he tried to remain calm, encouraging as his thumb brushed your soaked lips, “You have to breathe. Deep, slow. You hear me?”

You nodded, butthe ache in your cunt was so loud it made everything else feel fuzzy. You were soaked, clenching around nothing, slick running down your thighs, pooling under you, your clit swollen and throbbing. It hurt. Everything hurt in the best and worst ways.

Sirius groaned deeply behind Remus. “She’s fucking ruined already, and we haven’t even touched her.”

James pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his voice soft and close to your ear. “You did so well trying to wait for us, honey. We’ve got you now.”

“I-I need–” you gasped. “It’s not enough, nothing's enough, please–”

Remus’s hand moved down between your thighs, two fingers flipping through your soaked folds. “Fuck, you’re burning up, love.”

You whimpered at the slightest contact, throwing the wet pillow across the room to give Remus more room. His fingers hadn’t even pushed in, just brushed past your clit, and your hips jerked, another gush of slick coating his knuckles.

“Sensitive little thing,” Sirius purred, his eyes wild. “Bet your clit’s screaming, huh? All swollen and throbbing. Poor pup.”

“Please–” you sobbed again. “I’m sorry, I just-I just wanted to feel what you do–”

“And now you’re stuck, hm?” Sirius cooed mockingly. “Look at you. Our precious girl’s just a fuckdoll now. Dumb and leaking.”

Remus shot him a look, but Sirius didn’t stop; he just looked hungry. James kissed your temple, helping you stay focused and grounding you in the process. “We’ll help you, my love. You’re notion trouble. Just let Moony take the lead.”

Remus nodded once, getting into the headspace. “James, make sure the pillows are under her head and then get her legs up, keep her thighs open.”

“On it.”

“Sirius, grab the towels, she’s going to soak through the sheets.”

“Already is,” Sirius chortled, but obeyed.

Remus’s fingers slid inside you, just two, and the sensation was already too much, not from pain but from relief.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” he said, voice low and soothing, but his cock was visibly straining behind his trousers.

Your inner walls, warm and tight, clenched immediately, spasming hard enough that you nearly came on the spot. Remus stilled. “You’re not even going to last, are you?” he said in the kindest way, eyes locked on where his fingers were sunk to the knuckle. “That desperate, you’re going to cum from just this?”

“More–” you shouted, head tipping back onto the pillows James had fluffed. “Please, it’s not– Remus–more–”

He pushed a third finger in. Your whole body shook.

James kissed your knee as he held it back. Sirius slides beside you again, licking a drop of sweat from your cheek. “Look at you. Messy little thing.”

Then came the fourth finger. You came hard, a violent, gusting squirt that soaked Remus’s hand and frenched the towel Sirius had shoved under your hips. Your scream cracked, raw and high, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as you tried to catch your breath.

“There she is,” Sirius bragged, watching your juices drip down Remus’ wrist. “Told you she was ready for four.”

Remus didn’t move. Just held his fingers inside you as you trembled and whimpered and blinked up at him, tears still falling.

“You’re still clenching. Still not done?”

You shook your head frantically. “Not enough–”

Sirius leaned in, grinning like a devil. “Greedy little pup. Bet you’d take five if Moony let you. You’d fucking split for it, wouldn’t you?”

Remus shot him a warning glance. “No one’s putting five fingers in her.”

“But she wants it,” Sirius said mockingly, kissing your temple like it was a prize. “Poor baby doesn’t know what to do with herself.”

“I’ll show her what she needs.” Remus pulled his fingers out with a wet, squelching sound. You whined at the loss, trying to chase his hand with your hips. He stripped off his shirt, then unbuckled his belt, eyes never leaving you. His cock was massive, girthy and flushed.

You moaned, reaching for him. “Please–need to be full–”

“Deep breathe, love.” His voice held a gentleness that calmed your soul but still had authority. “You’re going to take it. But I’m not rushing and hurting my girl.”

He lined up and began pressing in, so slowly. Too slowly. You thrashed beneath him, tears in your eyes, trying to roll your hips to take more, but James still held you open firmly, keeping you in place.

Remus groaned, his eyes closing for just a second as his hair began to stick to the perspiration on his forehead. “You’re squeezing me so tight already. Try to relax for me.”

James stroked your inner knee as your lips parted in a silent scream. “She’s gripping him like a vine. Baby, you’ve got to relax for him, if you want him so bad.”

“Can’t–feels too good–urts but feels– I want it all–”

He was halfway in when you sobbed, “Remus–please–cock-ned it, need it all. Deeper!”

“You’re taking me so well,” he grunted, “So full already, look.”

He took your hand and placed it just above your pubic bone. You gasped, head shooting up as you felt the slight bulge in your belly. “Feel that?” he said, breathless. “That’s me. Deep in your tiny cunt.”

You came again. Screamed, soaked him, soaked the towel, soaked everything. Remus moaned, finally bottoming out, holding you still as you trembled beneath him, twitching and crying and shaking like you were going to fall apart.

You were shaking when Remus pulled out of you. A fresh gush following him, your pusy stretched and fluttering now, aching for more. You didn’t even get the chance to breathe before the cramps came back.

Deep, hot, mean little twists low in your belly, like your pussy was begging to be filled again.

“Fuck–” you gasped, back arching, hands clawing for the nearest body. “Please–it hurts again– need–need”

Sirius was on you in seconds. “Shh, pup,” he taunted mockingly, climbing between your spread thighs. “You had the whole sweet, didn’t you? Greedy, greedy girl. Didn't even leave any for us.”

“Hurts,” you cried, reaching for him. “I can’t–Sirius–need you–”

He sat up, grunting as he slapped his now exposed cock against your swollen clit. The overwhelming lightning of sensations caused you to scream once again, trying to roll your hips, but he grabbed them firmly.

“Stay still, pup,” he warned, licking his lips. “You’re not in charge tonight. I’m going to look after you, remember?”

He looked wrecked, eyes blown wide, clothes gone, pale chest heaving, black strands of hair sticking to the side of his sweaty face, but he was there, so focused on you, so in control.

“You want to cum?" he asked, lazily running the tip of his cock through your soaking labias. “Want to soak me like you did Moony?”

You nodded frantically, mewling pathetically. Sirius just grinned.

“Then you’ll cum when I say so. Not a moment before.”

You nodded desperately, needing him to do anything. “Please–”

“You asked for this, just keep looking at me, ok? So I know you’re still with me, darling," he growled, pushing inside you in a single, brutal thrust.

He was lengthy, hitting something high up in your cunt that made your vision flash white, the slight bulge in your lower belly returning with his movements. “Fuck–she’s tighter than ever," he said amased, pulling out and slamming back in. "You’re sucking me in, pup, like your cunt nkows i’ll fill it better than anyone.”

You screamed again, eyes focused on him, trying to do as instructed. And sirius laughed, a wicked sound as he started fucking you fast. His hips slapped against your overstimualted clit with every thrust. Your body jerked and twisted, eyes rolling back as another orgasm tore through you.

Sirius didn’t even have it in him to chastise you for orgasming with his permission, loving how your body was reacting to him, like it was sucking him in as hard as it could, not wanting to let go.

“You’re crying?” he cooed, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Poor thing, so overwhelmed.

His voice dropped lower, almost tender. “But you’re doing so well for me, darling. Taking it so deep, letting me ruin you. So fucking perfect like this.”

You sobbed, clinging to him. “Love you–love you so much–”

His breath hitched as his movements slowed. “Yeah?” he whispered. “Even when I fuck you like this?”

You nodded, and he groaned like it hurt him. “God, I love you too,” he gasped, snapping his hips into you even harder. “So fucking music, it makes me insane.”

Another orgasm crashed over you, your thighs smappemed in James' hold, your back arched off the bed. You were crying so hard you couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, couldn't stop shaking.

You didn’t even realise he was cumming until you felt it, hot thick spurts deep inside, and his hand cupping the bulge in your bell with possessive pride.

“Look at you,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “So full, all mine.”

And then as he pulled out, the cramps came back.

Your hands trembled, already crying out in pain, as another body moved over you, the grip on your legs easing slightly.

“J-James," you whimpered for him, blinking up at him with big, wide eyes.

Your thighs were slick and raw. Your clit was throbbing, swollen and untouched for too long.

James kissed you gently, not caring that your face was covered in tears and sweat. “You’re okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

He didn’t tease like Sirius. He knew what you needed, so without a moment of hesitation, he lined up, slid inside in one slow motion, groaning low as he bottomed out.

With gentler hands, he scooped your legs back up, wrapping them around his waist, holding you still as you fluttered around him, Sirius’s cum mixing with your slick on your thighs.

“You’re so wet, pup. So warm. You feel like heaven.”

You cried out again; he kissed your tears away tenderly. “You’re doing so well,” he whispered against your cheek. “You’ve taken us all like a good girl. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to us. You know that?”

You nod in your delirious state. And then he started to move, not fast and hard but purposeful, making sure you feel the drag of his cock against your sensitive walls. You felt every inch, every praise of love, of devotion as he fucking you through thepain.

“Let go for me,” he said, voice shaking as he kissed the tip of your nose, forehead resting against yours, chest to chest. “Cum on me again, baby. Let me feel you.”

You did, and he followed, soft moans into your ears, his hands shaking as he filled you, holding you tightly. You were sobbing by the end, no longer sure of what, anymore.

Your body was gone, empty, used and loved. Your brain was cotton. You could feel the cum leaking out of you, the wetness between your thighs a mess of Sirius, James and your juices. You were twitching, limbs weak, moaning softly with every little cramp.

“Hurts again,” you whimpered, exhausted. Remus climbed back onto the bed.

“I know, love. Let me help you one more time.”

He guided himself back in, being careful, but your body still melted into the touch. The cramps eased instantly.

You sighed, eyes fluttering closed.

“Cocking warming only,” Remus said, brushing your hair from your face. “No more thrusting. Just keeping you full. That’s all.”

James wrapped you in his arms, Sirius pressing kisses to your fingers, your temple, your wrist.

“You did so well for us,” James whispered.

“So proud of you,” Sirius added.”

Remus kissed your lips. “Sleep, little one. We’ll keep you safe.”

And you did.

~~~~~

You weren’t sure what woke you. You were warm, too warm– your skin damp with sweat, your thighs slick and trembling, and your throat burned like you’d been screaming.

You had been. That much came back quickly. So did the ache.

Between your legs, dull and constant, a deep, used soreness that made your breath catch. Your cunt felt raw, senstive and swollen. Every part of you was heavy and aching and still soaked.

And Remus was still inside you.

You whimpered softly. He stirred at once. “Love?” his voice was a low rasp, thick with exhaustion but sharp with concern. “Are you alright?”

You shook your head, tears springing hot and fast. “Hurts,” you croaked, barely a whisper. “Remus–it hurts…”

He shushed you instantly, cupping your cheek with one warm, steady hand. “I know, I know, baby,” he said calmly. “I’ve got you. Let me out, gonne b quick, alright?”

Not nodding, lip trembling and bracing yourself, not able to relax at all despite his calming words.

Remus eased out slowly. And you cried. Not ust from the pain, though the pain was there, in your stretched, raw and puffy hole that leaked his cum from who knows when, and twitched with overuse, but from everything. The pressure, the love, the intensity of your night. You'd never felt so broken open and so held all at once.

The sob hit before you could stop it, and then you were choking on it, sobbing silently, tears streaking down your face as your body curled in on itself. Remus didn't hesitate.

He pulled you to his chest, tucking you against his heart, shielding your overheated body with his own as his lips pressed to your temple.

“I’m so proud of you. You did so good for us, Pup. You were perfect for us. You’re safe now.”

You couldn't speak, your throat so raw that your voice was gone. You could only nod weakly into his chest, gasping softly against his collarbone.

“Is she alright?” came James’s voice a moment later, quieter than usual.

She’s hurting,” Remus said gently. “But I’ve got her. You can go back to sleep, love.”

James hops out of bed, ignoring the suggestion. “Paindraught, I should have one left from my last Quidditch injury.”

Remus sat up just enough to help you sip it from the vial he held to your lips. It was bitter, but cool, and relief came quickly, easing the sharpest edge of the ache. Not all of it, but enough to stop crying and just breathe.

You heard the sound of water pouring into a glass next, and James returned with it and a cool rag.

“Hey, honey,” he said, brushing a hand down your back. “You were screaming for hours. Your throat must be raw. Drink for me, okay?”

You did. Then you were lying back again, your head in James’s lap while Remus wiped your sticky thighs gently with a cloth, careful around your swollen pussy. He kissed the inside of your knee. “We’ll bath you later. Just rest for now.”

However, you couldn’t rest, because you had caught sight of Sirius, who hadn’t spoken. Just watched from the edge of the bed, shirtless, arms crossed, eyes dark and aching with guilt.

James caught sight of him too. “Sirius.”

He blinked like he’d been pulled from a daze. “I shouldn’t have– fuck– I knew she wasn’t ready for that much. She had the whale fucking thing. I should’ve labelled it better. I should’ve stopped–”

“Mistakes happen, and this is not on you, my love,” Remus said, still cleaning your body. “And we all gave it to her last night, not just you.”

“She couldn’t fucking speak,” Sirius whispered, eyes flicking to your saed ody. “She’s never screamed like that before. She basically passed out at the end, Remus.”

“And she’s safe now. We didn’t go too hard on her last night, we were all checking in on her, you know that.”

“But I was mean to her–”

“She loved it,” James cut in, a small, warm smile on his lips. “She always loves it when you’re mean. Because you’re not really, you’re just Sirius, it was just a scene, just in the moment like always.”

Siriu’s mouth twisted like he didn’t believe him. You blinked, still foggy, but reached out a hand toward him. He froze. Then, I crawled down the bed towards you.

“I’m sorry," he whispered, “I shouldn’t have gone so hard. I should have locked them up. I love you too fucking much to see you in pain like that, Pup.”

You shook your head weakly, wanting to say so many things but not able to. “Come here,” you mouthed. Sirius melted.

He pulled you into his lap, cradling you against his bare chest, brushing your damp hair away from your face like you were glass. You curled into him like you were made to.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered over and over. “I’ve got you.”

The boys settled around you soon after. Remus leaned against the headboard, a book in one hand, the other resting on your thigh. James curled at your feet, legs draped over yours, tracing your calf with his fingertips.

And Sirius, he held you like he didn’t want to let go.

1K notes · View notes

aishaspen · 15 days ago

Note

omg can you write a blurb where peter and the reader are in the stage of their relationship where they can't keep their hands of each other and keep leaving hickeys on each other and sexiling their roommates ? love your stuff <3

my place or yours?

ask box | taglist | blurb masterlist | main masterlist

w/c: 793

warnings: 18+!, smut (p in v), language

a/n: hehe one of my fave tropes, when everyone's fed up because they can't get enough of each other :D hope you enjoy! and friendly reminder to join my new taglist it's dead y'all lmao

you move your hips against peter's, rubbing yourself against the growing bulge in his sweatpants. you both make noises of content, lips and tongues intertwined. peter helps you take off your shirt and works on your bra next. you smile coyly from above him as his hands find your chest.

"when's harry gonna be back?"

peter's hands massage your breasts, eyes glazed over with lust.

"uh, i don't know... or care."

he leaves a trail of kisses going down between your breasts. you giggle and push his head back playfully.

"but what if he walks in again?"

"don't worry about it, i put a sock on the doorknob... just in case."

you ruffle peter's hair, dipping your head down so your faces are just inches apart.

"you're so extra, pete. you could've just texted him."

"i know, but i really wanted to piss him off this time."

"i feel kind of bad, though. we've been sexiling him a lot lately."

peter moves his hands down to your hips, guiding you forward so your clothed center presses against him. he gives you a cheeky smile.

"so next time we'll go to your dorm and sexile betty."

you scoff at peter and capture his lips in a kiss. he bucks his hips up, into you, needing you. you need him just as bad.

you can't seem to get enough of each other recently, so much so that you'll go at it anytime and anywhere. your friends aren't too happy about it. they either get kicked out of the room or banned from entering.

you and peter finish undressing each other, fast but somehow still not fast enough. in one swift motion peter flips you over and grabs your leg, lifting it up to his shoulder. his dark eyes lock with yours. you nod repeatedly, desperately. he pushes into you with ease, a moan instantly falling from his lips.

"fuck, baby."

you hum happily. peter keeps his hips still for a moment, lets himself fill you up and feel you wrapped around him. he takes the opportunity to connect your lips once again in a slow kiss. you smile into the kiss and curl your other leg around peter's waist, encouraging him to move. he pulls out of you just enough so he can thrust back in.

peter begins to find a rhythm as his cock thrusts into you again and again. he can tell it's one you like by the way you grab at his shoulders and let out soft moans. he holds your leg in place on his shoulder so he keeps hitting the right spot, at the right angle. you can feel yourself drip between your thighs from how bad you'd wanted him and how good he's fucking you.

"pete... feels so good, baby."

neither of you are making any effort to be quiet. peter presses his forehead to yours, hips moving at the same perfect pace. you take his face in either of your hands. you close your eyes and focus on the pleasure. peter brings a hand down to rub your clit, earning a gasp from you at the sudden intensified feeling. he chuckles at your reaction.

"you like that?"

"mm, you know i do."

"wanted to hear you say it anyway."

you groan at peter's cockiness, but god does it turn you on.

"of course you did."

peter continues stroking in and out of you as his middle and ring fingers circle your clit. you crane your neck so you can kiss across peter's jaw, his chin, then back to his lips, his tussled hair tickling your forehead. you give him a look, the look with the eyes that gets him every time.

"harder."

peter brings your other leg up to his shoulders, holding them both in place, starting to pound into you. he groans out a fuck. you arch your back and reach up, hands still cupping his cheeks. you're breathless and he's panting. you want more and more, as much of him as you can take, even more than that.

"oh my god, y/n. shit, baby."

"needed you so bad, pete."

"i’m all yours."

peter takes one of your hands and kisses your palm. you squeeze your intertwined hands, eyes fluttering closed in pure bliss.

the moment is interrupted when you two hear harry call from outside.

"again, parker? really?"

he bangs on the door for emphasis. peter stifles a laugh, continuing to thrust into you, making you have to stifle a moan.

"hey, man! respect the sock!"

"yeah. you're a real class act, you two."

you wait until harry leaves to join peter in a fit of giggles. you push some damp hair out of his face, scrunching up your nose.

"okay, yeah. my place next time."

tags (join my new taglist!)

@spidermans-gf @sacharinee @thollandsgirl2013 @pettypeety

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aishaspen · 15 days ago

Text

My Shampoo Fairy

Masterlist

synopsis: after being brutally rejected by James Potter, the last thing you expected was for him to show up in your common room—grinning, holding a bouquet, and calling you his girlfriend.

warning: cursing and kinda yearner james

i accidentally made him a yearner because i couldn’t stop picturing that one scene of ATJ in kickass LOL

“Sorry, I just don’t see myself liking fairies,” James tells you, right after you’ve finished confessing your long-standing, deeply rooted crush on him—one that’s been quietly blooming since second year.

The two of you are alone just outside the Quidditch pitch. He had just been practicing with the entire Gryffindor team when you suddenly asked if you could talk to him for a moment. A few Gryffindors had gone, “Ooooh,” or exchanged glances with smug, knowing smirks.

It’s no secret that James Potter—Quidditch Captain and Gryffindor’s Golden Boy—has a long list of admirers at Hogwarts. With his easy-going nature, magnetic charm, and that infuriatingly boyish smile, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t found him attractive at least once. It doesn’t help that he’s genuinely good-looking. The only real flaw, perhaps, is that he’s arrogant, a bully, and a bit of a troublemaker. Still, even that doesn’t stop some girls from loving the thrill of “fixing” the bad boy.

You never really expected him to accept or say that he saw something between the two of you. But still, you didn’t expect this to be his response to your confession.

“Fairies?” you ask, confused. “What do you mean?”

Fairies?

What does that even mean?

He visibly looks awkward before scratching the back of his neck and saying, “You know… really beautiful people, but that’s it.”

You stare at him, confused—and now slightly offended. “Pardon?”

Did he just say you had no personality?

He just sighs and mutters, “This is what I mean…” He continues, “You already know what I mean. Don’t make me hurt your feelings more—then you’ll go telling people I gave you some confusing reply.”

He says it, and all you can do is stare at him with the most offended, confused expression you’ve probably ever made.

You couldn’t believe this was real. Sure, you admit it—you knew he wasn’t going to accept your confession. He was most likely going to reject you. But not like this. He was always known as that really nice, one-year-above-you senior. You didn’t expect that this was how he actually talked.

Can someone really be this full of themselves?

To think that if someone got rejected by them, they’d automatically go around badmouthing him?

That was exactly what you remembered happened last year—when you confessed to James Fleamont Potter about your childhood crush on him.

It was short, bittersweet, and you were ruthlessly rejected.

So why, exactly, had one of your housemates just barged into your room saying that James Potter was waiting for you downstairs… with flowers?

You look at her, confused. “What the bloody hell are you talking about?”

“I’m serious! He’s been standing there for a couple of minutes now—some students are already starting to form a crowd!” she says, her hand still gripping the doorknob.

The two of you just stare at each other for a moment—your eyes narrowing with suspicion, hers wide with urgency, silently begging you to believe her.

Then, you throw on your student robes and rush out of the room together, heading straight for the common room.

When you finally reach the common room, the first thing you notice is the crowd of students gathered near the door, all looking and whispering about something.

“E-Excuse me,” you say. “Please let me through…” you continue as you try to push past the sea of people.

Did no one have classes today? Seriously.

As you finally make it through, your eyes land on the man of the hour—leaning casually against the wall, one hand tucked into the pocket of his robes while the other holds a bouquet of flowers.

He’s staring down at them, looking at each petal as if counting them. But then, as if sensing your gaze, he lifts his head, turns in your direction, and locks eyes with you. His eyes widen—then he grins and immediately jogs over.

“Fairy! I’ve been looking for you!” he calls, picking up his pace before stopping right in front of you—and wrapping you in a hug, right there in front of everyone.

Shit.

He pulls away, and you just stand there, frozen. You don’t even return the hug—you’re still too stunned to move.

He pouts. “Why didn’t you visit me? I missed you,” he says, then offers you the flowers. “Here. Flowers for my beautiful fairy.”

You take them slowly, glance at them for a moment, then look back up at him—still stunned.

Then, without warning, he cups your face—both hands gently resting just below your cheeks—leans in, and presses a kiss to your forehead.

Your eyes go wide.

And it’s not just yours. All around you, you can hear it—the gasps, the stunned whispers. Some girls are even tearing at the sight, as if their world had just ended.

James Potter isn’t in some temporary fling, this isn’t a will-they-won’t-they with Lily Evans again.

No.

He has just publicly declared, to the entire student body of Hogwarts, that Gryffindor’s Golden Boy is officially off the market.

He then looks at you, still grinning. “So, what time are your classes again? Want to sit in the courtyard while we wait?”

You look at him, now slightly confused. “Uh…”

Before you can respond, someone running towards you cuts off your thoughts.

“Prongs!” the person yells again, sprinting over—two other boys close behind him. You squint to get a better look, and sure enough—it’s Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew.

James turns towards the voice and, upon seeing Sirius, waves brightly. “Padfoot!”

Sirius finally reaches you, parting through the crowd as he pushes forward. Once he and the others are close enough, all three immediately fix their eyes on James.

“We’ve been looking all over for you,” Sirius says, slightly out of breath. “You’re not even supposed to be out of bed yet, remember?”

Remus and Peter stand on either side of him, also panting, clearly having run all around the school.

James just laughs. “Poppy said I could go early. Said I heal fast,” he says with a grin, flexing his right bicep for emphasis. Then, he casually throws an arm around you. “Also, I wanted to visit my fairy.” He turns to you, smiling as he gently tightens his grip on your shoulder.

His response makes all three of them look at you—each with a different reaction, but confusion is the most obvious. They glance at one another, then at the lingering crowd still watching everything unfold.

“Hey, Prongs…” Remus is the first to speak. “Can we borrow, uh… Fairy? Just for a quick talk. Won’t take long.”

He steps closer as he says it, and James looks at him, puzzled.

“Why? I’ll just come with you guys. It’s not a big deal.”

“No! Uh… Wormtail… has something to talk to you about,” Sirius says quickly, throwing a pointed look at Peter.

Peter stares back, blinking. “I do?” he asks, which earns him a sharper look from Sirius.

“I mean… yeah, I do! It’s kind of a thing only you can help me with, so…” Peter adds, hoping he doesn’t sound suspicious.

James raises an eyebrow at them but eventually shrugs. “Okay,” he says, then turns back to you. “I’ll talk to you later, yeah? We have a lot of catching up to do.” He caresses your cheek gently before winking.

You, still slightly frozen, can only respond with, “Y-Yeah. I’ll see you… later?”

He grins, then walks away with Peter. You’re still watching him when Sirius and Remus come closer—Sirius lightly taking your arm.

“Haha, yeah. Just talk to her later,” Sirius says, waving back at James, who waves one last time before disappearing down the corridor with Peter.

Once they’re out of sight, both boys turn back to you. “Can we talk somewhere more private?” one of them asks, casting a glance at the students still lingering nearby, though the crowd has thinned.

You just nod. “S-Sure. We can go to the covered bridge. No one’s usually there at this hour.”

They nod, and you lead the way—both of them walking silently just a few steps behind. The air between the three of you is tense and awkward, thick enough to cut with a knife.

You still can’t believe what’s happening.

What was up with Potter? Why did Black and Lupin want to talk to you? Why did he call you Fairy when that’s not even your name??

A hundred questions circle in your head as you finally near the covered bridge—and just like you said, there’s hardly anyone around this early. When you all get there, the three of you just stand in silence for a few seconds before Sirius finally speaks up.

“So… you’re Fairy?” he says, arms crossed, staring straight at you.

You stare at him before replying, “If you mean my name is fairy, then no.”

He squints, narrowing his eyes at you. “I meant—you’re Prongs’ girlfriend. The one he’s apparently had for a couple of weeks that none of us knew about.”

His words make your eyes go wide, and instinctively, you throw your arms up near your chest, as if that could shield you from the absurdity.

“Whoa! I am not his—or anybody’s—girlfriend. I barely even know the guy!”

“You’re not his girlfriend? Then why did he say you were?” Remus jumps in quickly, eyes narrowing slightly.

You all stare at one another for a tense beat, glancing between faces. And then, all your heads click into the same thought.

“I did not give him a love potion!”

“You love potion-ed my best friend!”

“You gave James a love potion, then?”

All three lines fly out at once.

Sirius pointing accusingly at you, you flailing your hands wildly in protest, and Remus standing there with arms crossed and one brow raised.

“Then…” Sirius stands up straighter. “Who are you to Prongs?” he finishes.

“I…” you start, trying to find the right words. “He rejected me last year, if that counts as being something to him.”

They both stare at you, visibly confused by your answer. You got rejected by James and now you’re his… girlfriend?

“Wait…” Remus says, brows furrowing as something clicks in his head.

“Didn’t Madam Pomfrey say something about possible distorted memories? Since he got hit in the head really hard by that quaffle?” he continues, turning to Sirius—whose eyes widen in realization.

“I’m sorry, but who was hit in the head?” you ask, completely lost.

“Prongs was—last week, during the match with Slytherin…” Sirius says, his tone shifting into confusion. “How do you not know that? It’s been a pretty big deal all week.”

You just shrug. “I’m not a Quidditch fan.”

They exchange glances before diving right back into the earlier conversation, discussing everything Madam Pomfrey had told them—the possible outcomes of James forgetting or misremembering things, how there was even a chance he’d forget his name or his friends entirely. Thankfully, that didn’t happen. Only the first part though.

You suddenly cut in, realization hitting you like a train.

“Wait. Are you saying Potter thinks I’m his girlfriend?”

Your voice snaps them both out of the conversation, pulling their full attention back to you.

“Yes—but it’s fine! It’ll just be for a few weeks—” Sirius starts, trying to reassure you that the situation is temporary.

“No way,” you interrupt sharply, immediately turning on your heel to walk away from the madness.

There was no bloody way you were going to pretend to be the girlfriend of the same guy who rejected you. Especially not now, when you’ve finally moved on from him.

They chase after you instantly. “Wait!” they both shout, jogging to catch up to you.

Once they do, Sirius starts again. “It’ll just be until he gets his memories back on his own. We promise.”

“I don’t care. I’m not doing it,” you say, still stubborn, still walking. You turn a corner without slowing down.

Sirius sighs and turns to Remus.

“I just realized this must be why he couldn’t name who ‘Fairy’ was—because he didn’t even know her name at all.”

Remus gives him a look, then replies, “Realize things later. Right now, we’re convincing her.”

And with that, they break into a jog again—just in time to see you turning another corner. You’re speed walking now. You have free period and your classes are done, so you’re heading back to your common room.

“Please reconsider,” Remus calls out. “Madam Pomfrey said it’s not advisable for us to interfere with how he regains his memory.”

You glance at him, before sighing and suddenly stopping—making them nearly crash into each other trying not to bump into you.

“And what is advisable?” you ask, looking at Remus directly.

“That we don’t tell him anything too stressful. Madam Pomfrey said any added pressure might worsen his condition.” he answers calmly.

“And the news that his girlfriend isn’t actually his girlfriend is… kind of stressful. I’d be going insane if I were him,” Sirius adds with a shrug, which earns him a glare from you.

He shuts his mouth, then offers a sheepish smile.

You look at the both of them, arms crossed—still unconvinced, but clearly thinking it over.

“We’re pleading with you here,” Remus says. “We know it’s a little weird, but honestly—what isn’t weird at Hogwarts?”

“It’ll just be a few weeks. Or days, even! Prongsie does heal fast—according to him, at least!” Sirius chimes in.

You’re still staring at them, and just as you’re about to speak—

“Also, being Prongs’ girlfriend is a title every girl in Hogwarts would die for,” Sirius mutters under his breath, and you immediately glare at him then start to turn around again.

“No, no, no! Come back! I was just joking!” Sirius says quickly, reaching out a hand.

Remus simply watches him, sighs, and rolls his eyes.

This tosser.

You turn back around, staring them both down.

“Fine. But only because Madam Pomfrey specifically said those things,” you say. Then, you continue. “Not because of… that.”

You finish with another pointed glare in Sirius’ direction. He just flashes you a sheepish grin again.

“Fairy!”

All three of you are suddenly interrupted by someone calling you. You glance over Sirius’ and Remus’ shoulders—and there he is.

Your apparent boyfriend.

—

Just a day after that, the news had already traveled all around Hogwarts that James Potter was apparently dating a girl no one even knew existed. And by that, they meant you.

You weren’t known as the smartest, like Evans. You weren’t considered one of the prettiest, like anyone from the Black family. You weren’t even a well-known Hogwarts Quidditch player.

No one knew who you were.

So—who was Fairy?

You weren’t aware of any of this yet. You were just heading out, having just finished getting dressed and about to make your way to the Great Hall for breakfast. You told your friends to go on ahead, saying you’d answer their questions another time because you weren’t quite comfortable yet. Truthfully, you just didn’t think it was your place to explain James’ situation.

“Good morning, my fairy.”

The moment you opened the door, the first thing you heard was his voice—the one you now knew far too well.

“Potter!” you exclaim. “W-What… are you doing here?”

You look at him and see him leaning against the wall, just like yesterday. He’s already in his Gryffindor robes, hair still a mess—like he just rolled out of bed.

Has he been waiting for you?

“I’m walking you to breakfast, obviously,” he says with a slight tilt of his head. Then, more pointedly, “Did you just call me Potter?”

You, now slowly walking towards him, glance up. He waits for you to catch up, and the two of you begin strolling together, side by side. His question still lingers in the air. Oh. Should you be calling him something else? Like… what?

“Sorry, uh…” you cough lightly, “love, I didn’t sleep well last night,” you say, deciding on that nickname—because that’s what people in love call each other… right?

He goes quiet. The two of you continue down the corridor towards the Great Hall. There are barely any students around—most of them are already eating. You’ve always been a bit late anyway, so it feels normal to have a few quiet moments before the noise.

Then suddenly, he turns to you with a smirk. “I’m your love now, huh?”

You look at him, confused. “What?”

He grins wider. “Thought you said you weren’t the nickname type? You used to only ever call me James. What changed?” He leans into you, bumping your shoulder like he’s teasing.

“Am I… making you change your ways, fairy?” he whispers in your ear.

Your eyes widened at the way he said it. And before you know it, you shove him away and start walking faster towards the Great Hall. You don’t notice it—but your ears are now the faintest shade of pink.

He laughs at your reaction, finding it adorable, then jogs to catch up.

“Wait for me, love!”

“Sod off, Potter!”

—

You told yourself that you weren’t going to fall for this again.

For him, again.

“And that’s another ten points to Potter!” screamed the Quidditch commentator as James scored once more, causing the crowd beside you to erupt in cheers. You were sitting in the Gryffindor stands because James had asked (begged) you to come. He insisted that the reason he was hit last time was because his “lucky charm” wasn’t there.

Of course you weren’t there. He hadn’t even known who you were.

And yet… you didn’t tell him that. You’d reluctantly agreed, which meant cramming all your homework the night before just so you could make time for James’ game.

“Potter gets the quaffle again, now zooming past the Ravenclaws—will he score another go—He did! Potter scores another goal for Gryffindor! What a game!” the commentator shouted as James’ name echoed across the pitch once more.

James immediately began scanning the Gryffindor stands, eyes darting as though searching for something—or someone. Then he spots you, locking eyes. He then grins and points right at you.

Your eyes widen, and you instinctively shake your head slightly, mortified. James only laughs at your reaction.

“Oh! Looks like Potter is dedicating that goal to someone—who is… his lucky charm?—wait, no, my partner just told me that it’s Potter’s Fairy! Woo!” the commentator cackles, his partner whispering excitedly beside him to clarify just who you were.

The moment the announcement was made, the Gryffindor crowd exploded again. People beside you began pushing playfully at your shoulders, cheering for you, teasing you, all in good fun. James’ “dedicated” goal had now turned you into a minor celebrity. You smiled at them, laughed along with the teasing, trying desperately not to let the heat rise to your cheeks. You were not going to make this a big deal.

You were here to help him recover. To keep your promise to his friends—that you wouldn’t stress him out. That you’d go along with it until his memories returned. And when that day came, you’d forget this ever happened.

That’s what this was supposed to be.

It’s just…

Maybe you were starting to wish it would all be over sooner, because if this went on any longer…

You weren’t sure you’d be able to stop yourself from falling for him all over again.

—

“How long are you going to write that? It’s been hours,” James complains, watching as you scribble another paragraph for your Potions homework.

“As long as I need to, Jamesy. There’s no time limit when it comes to finishing homework,” you reply, skimming over the last paragraph before adding a transition to connect them smoothly.

He just groans again and lays his head down on the table. The two of you are currently in the library. You’d both just finished classes, and he was about to invite you for a walk around the Black Lake—until you told him you were going to finish assignments that weren’t even due for another three days. He’d grumbled at first, clearly displeased with the idea, but eventually gave in, realizing this was the only way he could spend more time with you.

“I’m surprised you didn’t have practice today. I thought Quidditch was like your number one priority,” you say, glancing at him before returning your attention to your parchment.

He gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his heart.

“How dare you?” he says. “Spending time with you is my number one priority. Quidditch is only a close second.” He grins at you.

You make a face at his words before looking up from your work, you punch him playfully on the shoulder.

“Eugh! You’re so cheesy!” you say, scrunching your nose at him.

He laughs, rubbing the spot where you hit him. “I’m not kidding. You’ll always be my priority.”

“Pfft—stop it!” you say, punching him again. “I doubt you even know me that well to say things like that.”

His right brow arches. “Oh? Are you challenging me?” He shifts into a mock-thinking pose, arms crossed. “Let’s see… First off—you like doing your homework way earlier than anyone else in your year,” he says, gesturing toward your parchment, making you giggle.

“You… like arriving late to the Great Hall because you enjoy the silence in the hallways when you walk. You like putting your hair in braids when it gets too hot. You love talking about your family—especially your four dogs…” he goes on, and now you’re smiling, looking right at him.

“Now let’s get into what you hate... hmm,” he muses, tapping his chin. “You hate people telling your stories for you—that’s why you never do that to others either. You hate anything too sweet, especially sweet coffee, because in your words—‘that’s not the purpose of coffee!’ he mimics in a high-pitched tone, trying to sound like you, which makes you laugh.

He carries on, “You hate it when someone uses something and doesn’t put it back where it belongs. You hate running out of ink—so you buy ten bottles every month, just in case. And…”

He leans in closer, the space between you two vanishing, and suddenly it’s just you and him, smiling at each other.

“…You hate knowing that I’m right about everything I’ve said so far,” he finishes, grinning at you.

Then, without another word, he leans in—and kisses you on the lips.

You’re the one who pulls back first, both of you staring into each other’s eyes. His hand gently caresses your left cheek.

“I should’ve never rejected you.”

Your thoughts are suddenly interrupted by what James just said.

“What did you just say?” you ask, now slowly leaning back.

His eyes widened. “I mean—”

Before you can hear another word, you gather your things in a hurry and speed-walk towards the library doors.

“Fairy, wait!” you hear him call out behind you as you rush through the halls toward your common room. Tears are building at the corners of your eyes. Luckily, no one’s around to see it—because if anyone did, you just know this would be all over Hogwarts by tomorrow.

Someone suddenly grabs your shoulder, spinning you around—of course, it’s James Bloody Potter.

He stares at you, eyes pleading. “Please, let me expla—”

“Explain what?” you snap, your voice raising in frustration.

“What I said earlier, it’s not what it sounded like.”

You just stare at him, giving him the chance to explain himself.

“I really, really, really do like you. It’s why I never brought up that… I’ve already remembered what reality is. What you and I actually are,” he says, voice soft, almost desperate. “I know it’s selfish. I know I’m in the wrong…” he trails off.

“But I didn’t want to lose you…” he finishes, his hands now resting gently on either side of your arms.

You just look at him, tears in your eyes as he gazes back at you with those soft, pleading eyes of his. The hallway you’re currently in is quiet—only the two of you, and your voices, would be heard if anyone happened to walk through right now.

You take a breath first before asking, “How long… have you had your memories back?”

He just looks at you, silently begging you not to make him say it. But you shake your head and ask again.

“How. Long. Potter.” You say each word with heavy emphasis.

“…I got them back the night before our game with Ravenclaw,” he admits, still holding onto you.

“Argh!” you push his hands off your arms, clutching your things tightly to your chest as you storm off again—this time faster, heading toward your common room.

“No! Please, just give me another chance—” he calls, catching up to you easily and wrapping his arms tightly around you from behind as you struggle to get free.

“Let go of me, Potter.”

“No. Not until you hear what I have to say,” he insists, still holding you in his arms.

“I’ve already heard what you had to say—and I don’t want to hear anything else,” you say, still struggling.

You can hear his ragged breathing near your ear as you swipe at your tears. “Y-you rejected me… y-you said I-I had no substan—”

“I was wrong. I was so wrong,” he interrupts. “You’re vibrant, sweet, funny, and kind.” His head drops near your shoulder.

“So, so kind… please…”

You try to breathe properly as his words trail off. His warmth surrounds you as he continues to hold you from behind, your tears silently soaking into your hair and robes as you struggle to steady your breath.

“I’ll…” You slowly pull his arms off of you, taking a deep inhale as you try to calm yourself. You turn around to face him, and see that his eyes are red now too, his breathing heavy. You swallow hard before speaking, “I can’t. Not right now… I just… I want some distance between us.”

As soon as you say it, he looks like he wants to object—but then he sees your state. He takes a few more deep breaths, trying to ground himself.

He reluctantly nods. “Okay. Take all the time you need.”

—

It had been a few weeks since that day.

As you predicted, rumors had indeed started swirling around Hogwarts about your supposed breakup with James Potter. The theories varied, most suggesting that James simply wasn’t enamored enough to stay—though you were convinced those were mostly crafted by his more obsessive fangirls.

Just like James had promised, he gave you all the time and space you needed to clear your head before speaking to him again. Still, every now and then, he’d send you a letter just to remind you that he was still waiting. Sometimes, you could feel his eyes on you from across the Great Hall, the Courtyard, the Library... even while walking the hallways. And yet, every time you glanced in the direction of his gaze, he was already looking elsewhere.

You were now walking towards the Quidditch pitch, remembering that James once told you they held practice every Friday after classes. When you finally reached the changing rooms, you approached a player whose name you didn’t know and asked if he could call James for you. He looked confused at first, then his eyes widened slightly as he seemed to recognize who you were, nodding quickly before rushing off.

As you waited outside, you heard a chorus of playful “Ooooh!” followed by James yelling, “Buzzer off, you wankers!”—which was followed by a round of muffled laughter and teasing.

He appeared moments later, scanning the area before spotting you tucked in a corner.

“Hey…” he greeted you with a smile.

“Hey,” you replied, smiling softly back at him.

There was a pause, just a few seconds of quietness before—

“So…” you both began at once.

“Oh no, you go first,” you said quickly.

“No, you go. I’ll just listen,” he insisted, nodding for you to continue.

You smiled again before glancing at the ground, your hands slightly clammy from nerves.

“I’ve thought about it and…” you started, “I think we should move on from everything that happened.”

You raised your head to meet his gaze. James was watching you closely, giving you his full attention.

You continued, “It’s not fair for either of us to stay hung up on a ‘relationship’ that started from something as absurd as memory loss. We both deserve to go through all the cute little things—the awkward first dates, the late-night talks, the butterflies—before being in a real relationship. I don’t want either of us to miss out on that. I’m really sorry.”

You finished your piece and waited. You were bracing yourself for disappointment, maybe even denial—but instead, James just smiled.

He nodded. “I respect that,” he said. “And I hope the person you confess to—or the one who confesses to you—makes you just as happy as I was when I was with you.”

You smiled at that, and almost instinctively, you stepped forward to hug him.

He hugged you back.

A few seconds passed before you both pulled away, exchanging goodbyes. You wished him luck with practice, and he cheekily wished you luck on your walks, which made you laugh.

As you walked away, your heart felt light and a little heavy all at once—happy but sad, calm but kinda conflicted. That was, until you heard that familiar nickname again.

“Hey! Fairy!”

You turned around, surprised to still see James standing in the exact spot you left him. His hands were cupped around his mouth as he called out across the pitch. You tilted your head, confused.

“What is it now, Potter?”

He grinned. “I like you! And I want to get to know you more—over butterbeers in Hogsmeade!!”

Your smile faded, your eyes widening.

What?

He kept going, calling out again with a grin that didn’t falter. “What do you say?!”

You stared at him, frozen—your expression stunned, lips parted slightly. He stood there, just smiling.

A few seconds passed before a grin slowly crept across your face. You laughed, the joy bubbling up inside of you as the words finally registered. He kept grinning, watching your reaction. You cupped your hands around your mouth, your voice carrying back to him.

“Absolutely! I’d love to go on a date with you!”

2K notes · View notes

aishaspen · 22 days ago

Text

daddy's best friend 𐙚 b.b

pairing: dbf!bucky barnes x fem!reader (modern au)

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni, age gap (reader is above 18, bucky is in his late 30s) dirty talk, oral sex (f rec), rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie

summary: your dad’s best friend has been avoiding your eyes all night, until he’s got you pinned against the laundry room door, hand up your thigh. it’s everything you shouldn’t want, but you always do.

word count: 2.7k

author's note: hi loves! honestly, this fic was just meant to indulge myself because i love it so much, i enjoyed writing this throughly 💓 love ya guys and stay safe out there! based on this request | requests are open!

The barbecue’s in full swing when you spot him.

Bucky.

Leaning against the deck rail like a goddamn fantasy, beer bottle dangling from his fingers, jawline kissed by the dying sun. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbow, exposing those forearms, thick, veined—the kind that could hold you down and make you beg.

His jeans hang low on his hips, just shy of indecent, and it’s cruel, really, the way the fabric stretches across his thighs like that.

He’s been avoiding your gaze all evening.

Until now.

You feel it when he looks at you. Like heat, sudden and suffocating. That stare — hot, possessive, slow, crawling up your bare legs like smoke, drinking in every inch of exposed skin in your tiny denim shorts.

Your tank top clings in all the right places, sweat beading at the nape of your neck. But it’s nothing compared to the way his eyes drag over your body, deliberate, slow, like he’s undressing you right there in front of everyone.

And maybe he is.

You raise your drink to your lips, taking a long sip just to distract from the flush creeping up your throat. But your eyes stay locked on his. You don’t look away. Not when he tilts his head the slightest bit, raises a brow like he’s already imagining how you’ll sound when you’re whining his name again.

You glance to your dad—still deep in conversation, laughing too loud with someone from work. Good. Distracted.

You’ve played this game with Bucky before. The stolen glances. The tension thick enough to choke on. The brushing past each other in hallways. The pretending that night never happened.

But tonight—it’s different.

There’s something heavier in the way he looks at you.

Hungrier. Like he’s tired of pretending.

You remember every time he’s had his way with you.

It had started last summer. Another barbecue. Another night where the beer had flowed too easy and your shorts were just a little too short. You’d been buzzed, warm and lazy in the heat.

He was drunk. Looser than usual, mouthier, staring too long. The house was quiet by the end of it, most of the guests long gone, your dad passed out upstairs, the stereo still murmuring something low and slow through the speakers.

You’d been licking the last of a popsicle from your fingers in the kitchen, half on purpose, half because it felt good against the heat, and you could feel him watching.

“Jesus,” he groaned from the doorway, his voice thick, wrecked. “You trying to kill me, sweetheart?”

You turned, slow and coy, leaning back on the counter. Let your tank top slide just a little lower.

“Just cooling off,” you said, like it meant nothing.

But his eyes were dark, hungry, jaw clenched tight as he stepped into the room.

One hand landed beside your hip, warm and calloused against the counter. The other slid up your thigh, rough and daring, knuckles brushing the edge of your shorts.

You didn’t stop him.

“You don’t wanna play with fire, dollface,” he murmured.

You met his gaze, steady. “Maybe I do.”

And that was it.

He kissed you like he was drowning and you were air. Mouth hot, insistent, devouring. His hands gripped your waist hard enough to bruise, pulling you close until there was nothing between you but heat.

You clawed at his belt, the clatter of the buckle loud in the stillness, and then he was lifting you onto the counter like you weighed nothing.

“I shouldn’t,” he rasped against your neck, even as he pushed your shorts down your thighs, his fingers dragging along bare skin.

“Fuck, your dad—”

“Is upstairs,” you whispered, breath hitching as your legs wrapped around him. “Asleep.”

His eyes were wild. Torn.

But he didn’t stop.

He thrust into you in one deep, brutal motion that made you choke on a gasp, your back arching, fingers gripping the edge of the counter like it could keep you grounded.

“Oh my god—”

“That what you want, baby?” he snarled, dragging out just to slam back in. “Want daddy’s best friend to fuck you stupid?”

Your head tipped back, mouth open in a moan you barely bit back, legs locked around his hips.

It was filthy. It was wrong.

It was perfect.

You remembered how he’d gripped your jaw, forcing you to look at him while he fucked you through it, rough and relentless, the sound of your bodies slapping together echoing off the tile.

You remembered the way you bit into his shoulder when you came, muffling your scream in his flesh, and the way he groaned your name like it broke him.

You remembered the way he looked afterward, too.

Hair a mess, sweat gleaming at his temple, lips kiss-bruised and red. Wrecked. Guilty. Starving for more.

And it didn’t stop there.

It never did.

That night had turned into a secret you wore like a second skin. One that burned beneath your clothes. One that only he could touch.

The weeks that followed blurred into a string of reckless, filthy nights. He’d show up with a six-pack, laughing with your dad like nothing had changed, and then, by midnight, he’d be in your bed, hand clamped over your mouth, his body pressed flush against yours as he fucked you slow and deep, every inch of him buried inside you.

“You gotta keep quiet, princess,” he’d murmur into your ear, tongue flicking the shell of it. “Don’t wanna wake daddy, do you?”

You’d shake your head, teary-eyed from how good it felt. From how bad it was. From how much hotter that made it.

One night, he took you in the garage.

Bent you over the hood of your dad’s car, rough fingers in your hair, panties shoved to the side. The metal was cold under your skin, but his body was fire behind you, one hand gripping your hip, the other curved over your mouth as he pounded into you, teeth bared in a snarl every time you moaned his name.

“Such a fuckin’ tease,” he gritted out, voice dark and filthy. “Always walking around in those little shorts like you don’t know what it does to me.”

Another time, it was the guest bathroom.

Your hands braced on the mirror, fogging the glass with your breath as he fucked you from behind.

His fingers had played between your thighs, teasing, relentless, until you were shaking, gasping his name against the wall while he whispered how pretty you sounded when you came. Then he was inside you again, rough and hungry, growling against your shoulder as you clenched around him.

“Can’t get enough of this pussy,” he’d mutter, slamming into you harder. “So fuckin’ tight for me. Always so ready.”

It was always fast. Always desperate.

But nothing compared to the morning you woke up sore and aching, your thighs trembling with leftover pleasure—and saw the faintest bite mark blooming on your skin.

High on your inner thigh. Just where only he would ever see.

You wore it all day like a secret brand.

Pulling your shorts down just enough to hide it whenever you moved, even though a sick little part of you wanted someone to notice.

And the next time he saw it, saw you tugging your waistband down to hide it?

He smirked.

That same wicked smirk he wore now—leaning against the railing, watching you like he already knows he’s going to ruin you again tonight.

Like he’s already planning how.

Now, in the present, you’re staring at him again from across the patio, thighs clenching at the memory.

You shouldn’t be thinking about it.

Not here. Not in broad daylight.

Not when your dad is just a few feet away, laughing with a beer in hand, completely unaware of the filthy things his best friend’s done to you, who had always painted innocent in his eyes. Completely oblivious to the way your body is already reacting, slick and aching—just from a look.

You shift your weight, subtly. The rough seam of your shorts drags across your bare heat, and it’s almost too much. You bite your lip. Your nails dig into your plastic cup.

Bucky pushes off the rail, lazy and slow, that same beer bottle dangling from his fingers. His walk is confident—a little too confident—the kind of swagger that says he isn’t asking for anything.

He’s taking it.

You hold your ground, letting your gaze slide over him shamelessly as he approaches. The way his broad chest stretches the thin cotton of his shirt. The way his jeans cling to his thighs. That familiar twitch in his jaw when he sees the way your legs are crossed—shorts riding just high enough to give him a glimpse of what he already knows is there.

“Those shorts should be illegal,” he murmurs, voice pitched low, meant for you and you alone. His tone is thick with heat, amusement, and want.

You blink up at him, slow and innocent. “I wore them because it’s hot.”

“Mmm.” His gaze dips again, lingering on the curve of your thighs. “You have no idea.”

You smirk, lifting your drink to your lips. “You keep staring like that, someone might notice.”

He grins, wicked and unrepentant. “Let them. You’ve been eye-fucking me all damn day.”

Your heart skips. Your stomach tightens.

Because he’s right—and because now, you don’t want to wait another second.

“You want to keep pretending,” he says softly, leaning in just enough for your skin to prickle, “or do you want to finish what we started?”

You meet his gaze, steady, unflinching. “You’re the one dragging it out. You wanna fuck me or not?”

He breathes out a laugh, low, dark, full of promise. “Oh, I’m gonna fuck you, princess. I’m just deciding how many ways I wanna fuck you.”

Your knees nearly buckle.

Then his hand wraps around your wrist.

Casual. Calm, like he’s not about to desecrate the laundry room of your childhood home. Like he hasn’t already played this game a hundred times.

He leads you inside, moving fast but not rushed. The hallway is quiet—the music outside muffled through the thick patio doors.

The air’s cooler here, darker.

And the moment the laundry room door clicks shut behind you, it’s like something snaps.

Bucky grabs you by the waist and slams you back against it, his mouth crashing into yours. It’s desperate—hungry—months of restraint breaking all at once.

His hands are on your thighs, your hips, dragging you closer as his tongue pushes past your lips. You moan into his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair, dragging your nails across his scalp until he growls.

“I’ve thought about this every night since that first time,” he snarls, kissing down your throat, biting at your skin. “You. Spread open. Moaning my name.”

You let your head fall back, gasping as he sucks a bruise into the soft skin below your jaw. His hands slip beneath the hem of your shorts—and he drops to his knees.

Rough palms press your thighs apart, pushing until you’re forced to widen your stance. He huffs a laugh.

“No panties?” His eyes flick up, gleaming with something dark. “Knew you were a fucking tease.”

“I figured you’d want easy access,” you whisper, breathless already.

He groans. Low and filthy. “Brat.”

Then his mouth is on you.

Hot, wet and devouring.

His tongue drags through your folds like he’s starved for it, lips sealing over your clit, sucking hard. You cry out, your hands shooting to the doorframe behind you for balance as your legs tremble.

“Oh my god—Bucky—”

He pulls back just far enough to smirk against your thigh. “That’s it, baby. Say my name like that again.”

“Fuck—please—don’t stop—”

He doesn’t.

Two fingers slide into you, thick and rough, curling as his tongue returns to your clit. He moves in sync—tongue swirling, fingers pumping—merciless and skilled. You grind against his face, unable to help yourself, chasing that heat curling tighter and tighter in your belly.

“Such a greedy little thing,” he mutters, voice muffled against you. “Look at you, soaking my hand already.”

You come hard. Your whole body seizes, your thighs clenching around his head, a moan ripping from your throat that you barely manage to swallow down.

But he doesn’t stop.

He keeps working you through it, licking every drop, drinking down your release like it’s the only thing he needs. When he finally stands, he licks his fingers clean slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Still think you can handle more?” he murmurs.

You nod, dazed and breathless.

He kisses you again—hot and filthy—and then he’s turning you around with a rough grip on your waist, shoving your shorts down past your knees. Your bare ass hits the edge of the washing machine. The cool metal sends a shiver through your spine.

“Spread your legs,” he orders. “Wider.”

You obey. Of course you do.

The sound of his zipper opening is loud in the small room. Then he’s pressed up behind you, the thick head of his cock teasing through your slick folds. You whimper, grinding back against him, needy beyond words.

“So impatient,” he tuts, fisting a hand in your hair. “Beg for it.”

“Please,” you gasp. “I need you to fuck me. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks—”

“Yeah?” he growls, lining himself up. “Thinking about me bending you over in your daddy’s house like a filthy little slut?”

You moan, loud, eyes fluttering.

Then he thrusts in—hard.

Your cry is guttural, punched out of your lungs as he fills you in one brutal stroke. Your hands scramble for purchase on the washing machine, your body jolting with every deep thrust.

“God, you’re tight,” he groans. “Like you were made for me.”

“Harder,” you manage, already shaking.

He gives it to you. Hard, fast and relentless.

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room. His fingers dig into your hips, dragging you back to meet every thrust, and your legs threaten to give out with each one. He’s panting now, right against your ear, his voice rough and wrecked.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he growls, yanking your head back by your hair. “Bent over like a little cockdrunk toy while your dad’s twenty feet away?”

You nod helplessly, mouth open, eyes rolling.

“I should pull out and make you taste yourself off my cock,” he grits out. “Make you clean up your own mess.”

“Do it,” you whimper. “Use me however you want.”

He curses. Loud. Slams into you even harder.

“Jesus” he groans. “You’re gonna make me lose my fucking mind.”

Your second orgasm builds fast, your body too sensitive, too strung out. And when it hits, it rips through you—a blinding wave of heat that has you sobbing his name, your nails raking across the metal as you convulse around him.

He feels it. Hears it.

And with one final thrust, he presses you down hard against the machine and groans your name as he comes inside you, thick and deep, holding you in place while he pulses through it.

You stay like that for a beat.

Breathless, boneless and wrecked.

His chest against your back, his breath warm on your neck.

Then he presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Next time, you’re on your knees.”

You laugh, hoarse and wicked. “Next time, I’m riding you in your truck.”

He chuckles, pulling back to zip himself up, swatting your ass with a little too much fondness. “Fucking brat.”

You fix your shorts with shaking hands, tugging them up over your still-aching thighs. He’s already peeking out the door, checking for an escape route.

All clear.

He slips out first, walking like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just fuck you senseless in the laundry room.

You follow a minute later, legs trembling, mouth still tasting him.

No one notices. No one ever does.

And Bucky?

He’s already back on the patio. Leaning against the rail like the sin he is.

But when your eyes meet his across the yard, that heat in his stare.

You know he’s not done with you yet.

Not even close.

a/n: if you enjoyed it, please leave a comment or a reblog! thank you my loves 💕

1K notes · View notes

aishaspen · 26 days ago

Note

For the Sweethearts game: Steve Rogers + All Mine 💘😌

more than chocolate

pairing: husband!steve rogers x wife!female reader

summary: after your valentine's day date with your husband, he takes you to a hotel room and you make good use of the bed—but end up heading home to sleep in your own home.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, possessive sex, creampie, breeding kink, daddy kink, choking, biting, rough sex, established bdsm dynamic, light bratting/brat taming, pussy spanking, dirty talk, praise kink, light degradation, husband/wife kink, orgasm control/delay, cockwarming, aftercare, marathon sex, happy ending

word count: 4.5k

a/n: thank you for sending in a prompt, Eva!!! i'm not even the least bit surprised that you chose Steve 🤭 i hope you love this feral, possessive husband version of him, because i had fun writing him. thank you for playing my sweethearts game, i hope you enjoy ♡♡

sweethearts game masterlist

Giddy laughter bubbled up in your chest, tasting like the champagne still lingering on your tongue, which was busy savoring the rich chocolate mousse from the depths of Steve Rogers’ mouth. You dragged his broad body closer, licking the groan from his lips while his arm banded around your waist tightened almost painfully.

The back of his other arm brushed against the soft mounds of your tits while he fumbled for the key card to your hotel room that was stashed in the pocket inside his jacket, and you couldn’t help but moan into his mouth. Your body was suffused in heat and need that grew with every moment, and you finally broke from the kiss to urge Steve on.

“C’mon, captain, your wife’s pussy is feeling so empty and needy,” you purred in his ear, pressing hot kisses along his jaw. The big super soldier shuddered, and you grinned like a cat that got the cream against his cheek. “Don’t you wanna fill me up? Don’t you wanna put a baby in my belly?”

A rough sound wrenched free from Steve’s mouth, his arm tightening around your waist as he caught your lips in a fierce kiss that sent your mind scattering along the ugly rug of the hotel hallway.

Distantly, you heard the rending of metal, but you didn’t pay it much mind since Steve was lifting you up into his arms and carrying you into the room. He kicked the door shut behind the two of you with another screech of metal that sounded wrong, though you couldn’t say why.

Before you could think to pull away and see what damage Steve had done or ask him about it, his hand was cupping the back of your head, holding you close as he kissed the breath from your lungs and strode deeper into the room.

Your chest was burning for air and your body was throbbing with arousal by the time your husband tossed you down on the soft hotel bed. You took only a brief second to glance at the rose petals strewn across the blanket, arranged in the shape of a heart, before you turned back to the glory that was Steve Rogers.

The former Captain America stood at the foot of the bed, his blue eyes blazing with desire as he tore off his dinner jacket and tossed it somewhere in the room. One hand worked open the top buttons of his light blue dress shirt while the other wrapped around your ankle.

“Is this how it’s going to be tonight, wife?” Steve rumbled, a feral smirk on his face as he yanked you down the mattress, manhandling your body even as he took care not to use too much of his super-soldier strength so he didn’t hurt you.

You shrieked with dizzying laughter, your nice dress riding up to your hips as you spread your legs for your husband, giving him a perfect view of the lacy panties you wore beneath. Steve’s gaze dropped immediately to the juncture of your thighs, his big hands skimming up your legs and pushing them wide open so you were on full display for him.

“You think you can tease me into breeding this pretty little pussy?” he asked darkly, palming your hot cunt through the thin fabric of your panties, which were already damp with your desire. “You think you can bat those pretty eyes and kiss me with those pretty lips and I’ll rut you until you’re so full of my cum, there’s no way you’re not knocked up?”

His fingers pushed shallowly into your dripping hole, fucking you in a poor mimicry of what you actually needed. But your panties were still in the way, preventing him from slipping all the way inside your needy pussy, teasing you with the penetration you so desperately needed.

Your head thrashed on the bedspread, rose petals feeling like silk against your skin, and you made the most pathetic sound, partway between a whimper and a whine. Your hips worked hard against Steve’s hand, grinding your greedy pussy against his palm as you tried to take his fingers deeper, to where you needed them.

“Yes, I do, captain,” you huffed, batting your eyes up at your husband, your hands wrapping around Steve’s strong forearm and trying to shove his hand deeper between your thighs.

But Steve was having none of it. He pulled away from your pussy, gathering your wrists in his big hand and pinned them to the bed above your head. The move had his big body covering yours, but he held himself aloft, making sure you had nothing to grind against while his hips held your thighs open.

“Are you sure about that, baby?” Steve asked in a dangerously calm tone.

Despite the need pounding insistently in your bloodstream, you couldn’t help but rile up your husband even more. So you pursed your lips together and blew him a kiss.

Steve’s blue eyes darkened until they were nearly the mean, murky color of the Atlantic Ocean, and he shifted to one side.

That was all the warning you got before Steve’s big hand came down between your thighs, giving your pussy a sharp spank.

The sting wrenched a shrill sound from your throat, but the pain quickly melted into a burning heat that had your hips squirming and your legs flailing. Your calves curled around Steve’s legs in an attempt to draw him back between your thighs.

“Daddy, please,” you cried, a sob of pleasure falling from your lips while Steve rubbed your pussy, making a mess of your slit as you leaked through your panties and into his hand.

“What was that, baby?” Steve asked mockingly, watching you squirm beneath him with a glint in his eye that made it clear you’d pushed him to the point of no return. “Something about you thinking you could brat your way into getting a baby in your belly?”

Steve pulled his hand away from your pussy and pressed down on your stomach, pinning you to the bed and leaving you to only writhe. He held you like that for a long moment, your legs twisting and hips humping the empty air, until you’d nearly worked yourself up to tears.

“Daddy, daddy, please!” Your voice was a pathetic whine, and your eyes were misty as you stared up at your husband. “I’ll be good, I promise,” you begged, your lips pursed in a perfect pout. “Just fill me up—please, please, please, I need it!”

“Ah, there she is,” Steve rumbled, his voice switching to a deep, pleased tone instantly. “My sweet wife, begging so pretty like such a good girl for daddy.” He ducked down and brushed a kiss to your cheek, catching the single tear that had fallen from your eye. “That’s how pretty girls get what they want—by asking nicely.”

You grumbled a little, but couldn’t help but preen under his sweet kisses and sweeter praise, making Steve chuckle against your skin. He pressed one last kiss to your lips and then he was standing up, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your stomach with ease.

Carefully, he pulled down the zipper of your dress, his fingers skimming along your spine and making you shiver as you pressed your face into the rose petals on the bedspread, inhaling their sweet scent as your husband undressed you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Steve lay the dress carefully over the chair in the corner, then he was back, ripping your panties down over your ass and thighs, shoving them in the pocket of his slacks while his other hand curled around your hip.

“On your hands and knees, wife,” Steve ordered in a gruff voice, helping to lift you up into position. His hands made quick work of his belt and fly while you arranged yourself on your hands and knees on the edge of the bed.

Turning your head, you caught Steve’s eye over your shoulder, shooting him a smile while you arched your back and wiggled your hips for him. His blue eyes sparkled with love as he smiled back, but then his gaze dropped to your ass and he bit back a groan.

Your husband ran his hands appreciatively up your thighs, then down your sides, reaching around to your front to grope your tits while he pressed kisses along your spine. You arched into his touch, letting out a needy whine when he plucked and pinched your nipples in just the way you liked.

“You’re so fucking pretty, baby,” Steve murmured into your skin, making you shiver at the depth of emotion in his tone. “Looked so gorgeous dolled up for our Valentine’s date tonight,” he said, sinking his teeth carefully into the curve of your shoulder, making you moan and melt further beneath his talented mouth. “But I’ll always love seeing you naked and begging for my cock.”

“Thank you, daddy,” you said sweetly, pushing your hips back into Steve’s lap and feeling his cock slip between your thighs. Your legs were already a mess with your arousal and you could feel your dripping heat coating the hard length of him as he thrust lazily between your thighs. “May I have your cock now—pretty please?”

The sweetness in your tone made Steve chuckle against your shoulder blade. But he grabbed his cock and rubbed the tip up and down your wet slit, teasing your tight little hole with everything you wanted.

“Look at you,” he cooed teasingly, and you could hear the self-satisfied smirk in his tone. “Such a good, sweet girl when you ask nicely.” He pushed the crown of his cock into your hole before pulling out, making your whole body shiver with need as a whine worked its way up your throat. “Tell daddy how bad you want my cock, baby.”

“Sooo bad, daddy,” you wailed, trying to push back on Steve’s hard length. But he held your hip in a tight grip, making sure you only got the tip of his cock. “I want it so bad—more than chocolate, more than champagne, more than anything, daddy, please!”

“Good girl, such a good girl for your husband,” Steve purred, sliding inside your dripping cunt and filling you up with one firm stroke.

The feeling of him filling you up after teasing you for so long, his thick cock stretching you out so perfectly, wrung a delighted sob from your lips. You buried your face in the rose petals and blankets as you cried at the pleasure rolling through your body in waves.

Steve gave you a long moment to adjust to his cock, and then his hand was wrapping around the front of your neck and he was lifting your body until your back was to his chest. The position forced his cock even deeper inside your pussy and you moaned loudly, your hands grabbing Steve’s thick thighs for something to hold onto.

“Open your eyes, pretty baby,” Steve cooed in your ear.

As soon as you did, your eyes were met with the sight of your body framed by your husband’s larger form and you realized there was a mirror hanging over the head of the bed. It gave you a perfect view of your pussy impaled on your husband’s cock, your tits bouncing as you breathed heavily.

Your entire, naked body was on display, and behind you stood Steve. He still wore the light blue shirt he’d donned for dinner, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his dark slacks were pushed down his thighs only far enough to free his cock. His strong, golden arms were holding you pinned to his chest, one hand curving possessively around your throat while the other banded around your middle beneath your tits.

Your husband’s blue eyes were sparkling with a possessive hunger as he caught your gaze in the mirror.

“All mine.”

Steve’s voice was little more than a growl in your ear, the possessiveness trickling down your spine and settling in your belly only adding to the heat in your core. In the mirror, you could see the place where his cock split you open, where his hand was holding your throat in a dominating grip, and your pussy gushed with even more arousal.

“You’re all mine, wife,” Steve said again, catching your eye in the mirror and letting you see the depth of the devotion burning in his gaze. “Now and forever.”

His words made you sink deeper into his grip, a pleased smile curling your lips as your hands reached for him. One gripped his strong thigh, nails digging into his golden skin hard enough to make his hips stutter with an instinctive thrust. The fingers of your other hand slid into the blond hair at the back of Steve’s head, curling in the strands and yanking on them just enough to make your husband’s eyes flash in the mirror.

“And you’re all mine, husband, now and forever,” you purred in return, echoing his words and enjoying the way Steve’s cock twitched deep in your cunt at the depth of the possessiveness in your tone. It was enough to make you smirk, the brattiness you’d felt earlier in the evening coming back to the surface. “Now, be a good husband and put a baby in your wife’s belly, captain.”

You barely had the chance to shoot your husband a playful wink before his eyes darkened, his pupils blowing wide and blotting out the blue of his irises. Steve let out a furious growl, his face contorting with determination as he started bouncing you on his cock, using his firm grip on your throat and body to lift you up and slam you down on his hard length.

“You’re going to regret that, wife,” he snarled in your ear, his fingers digging into the sides of your throat while he fucked you. “I’m going to use your body like my own personal fucktoy, and then maybe you’ll get my cum—if you can show me you can be a good girl and take my cock.”

Your husband looked so fierce in the mirror over the bed, fucking you hard and fast and giving you every inch of his cock over and over and over again. Still, you couldn’t help but be a little menace, torturing both of you so you could get everything you wanted.

“Harder, daddy,” you whined, your nails digging deeper into Steve’s thigh, feeling his muscles working beneath your fingertips as he thrust into you hard enough that the sound of his skin slapping against yours met your ears. “Choke me harder.”

“Bratty, perfect girl,” Steve muttered, choking you harder as he fucked you, his fingers digging into the sides of your neck and making pleasure swim across your vision.

It wasn’t long before you were close to the edge of your release, moans and pleading whimpers spilling freely from your lips. You clung to Steve desperately, your hips pushing back to meet his thrusts, but the closer you got, the more he slowed.

Just when you were about to tip over the edge, Steve stopped entirely. He yanked you down on his cock until you were impaled so thoroughly, you swore you could feel him in your guts. Then he dropped the hand not wrapped around your throat to your pussy.

“If you want my seed, baby, you’re gonna cum from getting your clit spanked, d’you hear me?” Steve growled in your ear, his blue eyes glittering and dark in the mirror as you caught his eye.

A whining sound of protest fell from your lips, and Steve waited a beat, but you didn’t voice your safe word. You knew your husband would stop immediately if you said the word you’d established years ago, but you didn’t really want him to stop.

Steve chuckled against your cheek, swatting your clit with the flat of his fingers, making you cry out and squirm in his hold. He adjusted his grip, his hand around your throat pinning you to his chest while he tapped teasingly against your clit.

“You’ll be a good girl for daddy, won’t you, baby?” he cooed mockingly, smacking your clit a little harder and chuckling when your whole body jerked in his hold. But you were no match for his super-soldier strength, so all you could do was sit on his cock and take it, whimpers and moans falling mindlessly from your lips. “Of course you will,” he murmured darkly in your ear. “Because you want daddy to knock you up, don’t you, baby?”

A feral little kitten snarl tore from your mouth at the condescension in his tone, but still you didn’t stop him. Steve was stubborn and you knew you were going to cum from him spanking your pussy simply because he had the sheer determination to make it happen—and because he knew exactly how to work your body, how to walk the line of pleasure and pain until you were seeing stars.

Steve rocked into you with his hips, grinding his cock deep into your cunt, and spanked your clit sharply, making you cry out and convulse in his arms. But that damn super-soldier strength meant you weren’t going anywhere.

After five spanks, you lost count, but thankfully, you came not long after.

Your release rushed over you suddenly, dragging you over the edge kicking and screaming, the stinging pain of Steve’s spanking hand washed away in a deluge of burning, all-consuming pleasure. It was the most intense orgasm of your life, and you screamed your release into the hotel room, your body tightening and your nails digging so hard into Steve’s forearm, you thought you might draw blood.

While you were in the throes of pleasure, you heard Steve grunt and groan behind you. His arms tightened around your body and his hips pressed flush to your ass as he buried himself as deep in you as possible. Then you felt the telltale twitching of his cock, and knew he was spilling his seed deep in your cunt, flooding your womb with his cum.

The two of you rode out your releases together, gasping and clinging to each other as you eked out every ounce of pleasure from your bodies. Before you collapse into a puddle among the rose petals, Steve gathered you up in his arms and climbed into the bed, laying you down in the center with his body behind you, holding you close.

He managed to make sure his cock didn’t pull out of your still fluttering channel and you sighed in relief—you didn’t want him slipping out of you for the rest of the night. You wanted him plugging you full and making sure his seed would take in your womb.

“That was fun,” you murmured, reaching back and tugging on Steve’s hair until your mouth found his for a kiss. It was a little clumsy, but you could feel Steve’s smile against your lips, so it was perfect. “I love it when you get all mean with me,” you whispered against his mouth, unable to stop yourself from grinning.

Steve’s cheeks pinked and he kissed you more tenderly. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked softly, his fingers smoothing gently down either side of your neck, watching your face carefully for any flinches of pain.

“No, I’m ok,” you assured him, waiting patiently while he insisted on kissing every spot where his fingers had dug into your neck when he’d choked you.

“Good,” he said on a relieved sigh, burying his face in your neck. His hand slid down your front, laying possessively over your belly. “Because you’re going to need to take more of my cum if we’re going to make sure you’re knocked up tonight, wife.”

A giggle slipped from your lips and you wiggled your ass back into Steve’s lap, feeling him growing hard again inside you. “Gimme all ya got, captain,” you shot back over your shoulder, catching Steve’s eye and giving him a playful smirk.

For the rest of the evening, you and Steve stayed in that hotel room bed, mussing the blankets and sending rose petals flying as you made love over and over again like you couldn’t get enough of each other—which you couldn’t. You’d never get enough of the feeling of Steve’s cock pumping you full of cum, and he’d never get enough of your sweet sounds while your pussy clenched down greedily on his hard length.

By the time you were too exhausted to move, you’d lost count of how many loads of cum Steve had filled you with, but you were hopeful that his seed would take and your belly would grow with his child. You were cooing deliriously to your cum-filled stomach while Steve carried you to the bathroom and cleaned you up.

When the two of you made it back to the bed, slipping beneath the sheets and not caring when you found some rose petals had made it into the bed, you were half asleep. You curled up into Steve’s side and tried to drift off…

But, even though you’d had enough orgasms that it should’ve been easy to fall asleep, you couldn’t seem to get comfortable in the hotel room bed. The pillows were too lumpy and the sheets were too scratchy, and even with your nose pressed into Steve’s bare skin, the room smelled too different from home.

After a few minutes of your restless body squirming against his, Steve chuckled and brushed a kiss to your forehead.

“Do you wanna go home, baby?” he asked softly, humor and affection thick in his tone. “Sleep in our own bed?”

“Yeah,” you said on a sigh, giving up the fight to fall asleep and lifting your head to look at your husband. Even in the dark of the hotel room, you could see his eyes glittering with love and you felt suddenly guilty, hiding your face in his chest. “I’m sorry—you got us this nice hotel room for the whole night, but I can’t sleep here.”

“That’s alright, baby,” Steve assured you, running his hand soothingly up and down your spine. “We got plenty of use out of it,” he said, laughing softly to himself. Then he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you from the bed, placing you carefully on your feet. “Don’t you think?” he asked playfully.

Steve turned on the light and you looked around at the completely destroyed room. There were rose petals everywhere and the blankets on the bed were mussed beyond recognition, the pillows strewn haphazardly up and down the mattress. It gave you a small flicker of pride to see how thoroughly you’d used the bed with your husband and you grinned at him.

“Yeah, I think we did.”

As quickly as you could manage, you and Steve dressed and made your way to the door. There, Steve had to wrench it open, confirming your suspicions that he’d broken the lock earlier when he couldn’t get the key card out of his jacket pocket.

At the front desk, Steve reported the damage and told the clerk to charge his card for the repairs while you tried to muffle your giggles in the back of his suit jacket.

When he was done checking out, Steve laced his fingers with yours and pulled you toward the parking garage, both of you trying—and failing—to stifle your laughter.

It was late when you leaned against Steve’s side as he unlocked the front door of the brownstone the two of you called home. You toed out of your shoes as soon as you were inside, leaving them by the door as you followed the low, warm light filtering out of the living room.

You padded around to the front of the couch, grabbing the remote for the TV and flicking it off before stopping and taking in the sight in front of you. Steve walked up behind you and slid his arms around your waist, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder as the two of you stared down at the couch.

“Your friends are terrible babysitters,” you whispered, cutting a look at Steve out of the corner of your eye, which only made him snort softly. The sound tickled your skin and sent a small shiver racing down your spine.

“What can I say, our little sweet pea has them wrapped around her fingers,” he responded easily, brushing a kiss to your cheek before unraveling himself from around your body and moving toward the couch.

Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson were both asleep on the couch, their heads lolling against the back and loud snores spilling from their mouths. Between them, your daughter was snuggled in her favorite blanket, which would’ve been adorable if it wasn’t so many hours past her bedtime.

“Papa?” your daughter murmured sleepily as Steve gathered her up in his arms, blanket and all, tucking her in close to his chest while her little arms wound around his neck. “Wan sleep wif you and mama,” she whispered before burying her little face in your husband’s collarbone.

“She refused to go to bed until you got home,” Sam said gruffly from the couch, where he was waking. He covered his mouth with a fist while he yawned, his other hand pushing at Bucky’s shoulder, but the super-soldier ducked out of the way with a grumpy grunt.

“We all know where she gets that stubbornness from, don’t we?” he grumbled, shooting you a wink and cutting his head toward Steve, who was heading in the direction of the stairs leading up to the second floor of the brownstone.

You muffled a snort into your palm and Steve cut you a look over his shoulder that only made you laugh louder.

“Oh, she definitely gets it from me,” you said innocently, shooting your husband a wink as you turned back to his friends, who were standing and gathering their things. “Thanks for watching her.”

“Anytime,” Sam said, giving you a hug. Bucky echoed his sentiment and hugged you as well before the two of them saw themselves out.

You turned off the lights on the lower level, then followed Steve upstairs to your bedroom. He’d already tucked your daughter into the middle of your bed and was in the closet changing into his pajamas. The two of you shared a few sleepy kisses as you changed, then you slipped into bed, snuggling your daughter together.

Before the three of you fell asleep, Steve whispered sleepily, “How do you feel about having a little brother or sister, sweet pea?”

“Want it, papa,” she huffed softly, and you couldn’t help but kiss her little head as affection and love surged in your heart.

Steve caught your eye over your daughter’s head and he shot you a wink. “More than chocolate?” he asked, but his only answer was your daughter’s light snoring.

You and your husband giggled silently and you reached for his hand, your fingers tangling together as your eyelids drooped. You fell asleep within seconds, a smile on your face as you were surrounded by love, delighted by the idea of adding another person to your little family.

You wanted it more the chocolate, more than champagne, more than anything, to grow your family with your husband, Steve Rogers—and you’d get exactly that. Nine months after Valentine’s Day.

sweethearts game masterlist

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aishaspen · 1 month ago

Note

Congrats on 1k! If you're still taking marauders requests can you make one with We can't be friends by Ariana Grande with James Potter?? Ty! 💛

Hi! Sure we can 😌🤝🏻

When you walked through the Portrait hole, weary from the time spent burying your nose in page after page of Transfiguration studies, you weren't expecting to see a whole party going on in the common room. But you understood why James didn't show up tonight to your study sessions.

It feels as if that's all you do with him lately, understand.

Understand that he's got Headboy duties, Captain duties, and he also got other friends, and lessons, and... He's got Lily, too. And you understand, of course. You always knew life would get busy and he would grow up, and a little part of you always suspected he'd become something totally foreign to who you were.

Still, there was also a little part of you that kept hoping his crush on Lily would be one of the things he would grow out of. But alas, that was one thing that seemed to be deeply engrained into who James Potter was as a whole.

Where did that leave you, then? More importantly, what did it mean for the things you felt for him?

"All right, y/n?" Asked the man of the hour, plopping down on the armrest of your chair with a graceful laziness to it. "You look tired. You must've burned your lashes with all that reading..." He joked, taking a casual swig of his butterbeer.

Ah, so he did remember... He just didn't feel like showing up.

You're in the mood to make him feel guilty, or at least try to. After all, you're always doing everything to accomodate him. "I could've left the library earlier, but I kept waiting for you to show up."

James frowns like that's the most nonsensical thing to say. "Why on earth would you do that? I've told you, if I don't show within the first five minutes, I don't show at all. I don't like to make people wait."

"Doesn't seem like it," You mutter, sinking on your seat. Then you raise your voice again so he can hear you over the party noise. "You could've at least sent a message. Or told me beforehand you weren't planning to show at all."

James shrugged looking mildly surprised. "Didn't think much of it, honest. You do those study sessions without me all the time, I didn't think it mattered if I showed or not."

"Well, it's not that, it's more about... About being nice to me."

"Nice?" James laughed and looked down at you as if you were truly spouting nonsense. "Why, y/n, it's just a study session, really, no one's getting married. You can do without me, I know it."

Your argument dies before it reaches your lips, because you would rather not do without him, truly. But the thing is, when James talks that way about you, he's talking about himself.

Celebrate 1.2k followers with us!

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aishaspen · 1 month ago

Text

Good Luck Babe

poly!marauders x nerd!female!reader

summary: after being a wallflower throughout your first five years at hogwarts, you always thought that you could be invisible. but when you hear the marauders talking cruelly about you and proceeding to ask for your forgiveness after, well good luck babe.

warnings: eventual smut! 18+ heavy angst, cursing, reader wants to kill the marauders , swearing, unprotected sex, praise, oral (male receiving), jealousy

a/n: i've been completely MIA, sorry.. i saw this in my drafts, and i was like, let me just continue it. this ended off kind of weird, but there will be smut in the next part! i'm gonna attempt to finish every series.. hopefully. i haven't written in a bit, so i apologize if you hate it. see u next time!

Peter flushed tomato red when the bottle landed on him, and Evan smiled at him in a very seductive way. As long as you've known him, Evan did have a lot of charm—nearly as much as Sirius.

Evan was a close second, though perhaps not Sirius, given his overwhelming appeal.

'Whoops' and applause echoed around the circle as Evan gently crept toward Peter, crawling on his hands and knees.

Peter gulped, sitting still in his seat as Evan rose above him and whispered something in his ear, causing Peter to gasp.

Evan took this opportunity to kiss him slowly and gently, his hands on either side of Peter's face.

You looked around to see everyone's reactions but everyone was either egging it on or talking to each other. You couldn't believe this was the same group you had been 'friends' with last school year.

After what felt like years, Evan finally broke away from Peter, leaving him a swift peck on the cheek as Peter closed his legs together and blushed from the teasing of Dorcas and Marlene.

Your eyes landed on the bottle as Sirius began to grab it for his turn. His eyes were on the bottle as they lifted up to wink at you which made you swallow.

He spun it and it landed on the person next to him, Remus. You honestly expected Remus to have the same reaction as Peter but he actually looked bored at the fact that it was Sirius.

Even Sirius noticed it, "Aw, not excited to kiss me love?" He asked, faking a pout.

Remus smirked, "You think you deserve a kiss after the shit you pulled today?" He asked, using his hands as stands to keep him up as he faced Sirius.

Sirius's pout quickly turned into a matching smirk with Remus, "Have I been bad?" He asked, inching towards him.

You felt butterflies, or maybe a little below your stomach. Were they actually flirting?

"Enough with the foreplay!" Marlene whined, "Get the kiss over with!"

"Yeah," James said with a smile as he sipped his fire whiskey, "Nothing you haven't done before."

Your eyes widened at that as Sirius shrugged and went in for the kiss with Remus. Remus had a hand on his cheek while Sirius intensely grabbed Remus's hair, growing deeper into the kiss.

Sirius was almost climbing into Remus's lap as a moan erupted from Remus's mouth and you felt a tightening in your stomach.

There was no way this was actually happening.

You saw Sirius smile into the kiss as he pulled away, wiping his mouth, "Still bored?" He asked as Remus waved him off with a flushed look his face.

"As much as I don't want to give Sirius another ego boost, that was extremely hot," Mary admitted, sipping her drink.

"Everything's hot about me baby," Sirius replied, winking at Mary as she scowled.

Sirius took a look at you as you quickly avoided his eye contact which was clearly a mistake.

He spoke, "I actually think our dear Y/N should go," He announced, "She seems like she's never played before," He tsked.

Steam almost flew out of your ears as you spoke, "Actually, I think the whole point is to go around in a circle, Black," You spat as Sirius only smiled.

"Oh," His voice dripping in mockery, "I'm sorry, Y/N, if you're feeling a bit scared, you don't have to go," He spoke as your fists clenched.

"Yeah Y/N," Lily gave you a genuine smile, "You don't have to go yet if you don't want to," She hummed as several people in the circle agreed, acting as if Sirius was being genuine.

This only made your face warm up as you sat up, annoyance all over your face, "Actually Lily, I do think I should go to be fair, I'm actually feeling a bit brave," You sent a mocking smile to Sirius as you dragged the bottle back in the circle and spun it.

As it spun, you nervously bit your lip.

Since the girls were sweet and you could probably get away with just given them a peck, you wouldn't mind if it were any of them.

Or perhaps even Evan, who you liked because he certainly wasn't ugly and genuinely seemed kind.

Even Peter, he would most likely be as nervous as you and you probably wouldn't have to kiss for long.

Just anybody—aside from the three arrogant, blithering, shitheads—

James looked like a deer in headlights as the bottle fell straight onto him. He looked at you, and your expression was exactly the same.

"Well come on lovebirds!" You stood motionless in nervousness as Evan cheered.

You swallowed as James moved towards you slowly, your eyes tracing his every move. His eyes were locked onto you like you were the only person in the room.

Your gaze shifted to Sirius, and his arrogant demeanor had softened; he was now observing you and James differently.

You had never seen Sirius become stiff in his life, but it seemed as though his eyes had darkened and his entire demeanor had shifted.

Remus had almost the same expression when you turned to face him, but he seemed more anxious than anything else, as though he was unsure of what to anticipate.

"Y/N," James said as your gaze returned to him. "I've wanted to do this since last school year," he said softly, in a whisper.

As he leaned in and gave you a gentle peck on the cheek, your expression shifted to one of disbelief.

All outside cheers and hollering had been muffled, making it seem as though you two were the only people in the room. It felt like you could feel every sense ten times more than normal.

After giving you another glance, he moved in and kissed you, feeling his soft, plump lips as his hands gently gripped the sides of your face.

At first, the kiss was tender, with him giving you a deep, meaningful kiss. After that, it began to feel like the stress, the rage, and the words from that evening. His tongue invaded your mouth unexpectedly as a moan escaped from your mouth.

Your mouth fought against his as you both deepened into the kiss, your hands running through his soft curls.

He abruptly pulled away from you, staring at you while you both gasped and caught your breath. You were certain that he couldn't read your expression, but you couldn't read him either.

James was flushed, his chest heaving as he looked at you in astonishment.

You always knew that James was beautiful but in this state he was ethereal.

You were certain that while your state was comparable to his, it was probably not as lovely.

Marlene was the first to speak, "That was more steamy than I thought it would be," while taking a drag from her cigarette.

You were snapped out of your thoughts, "I actually have to be in bed, huge reading to catch up on," You said hurried to your feet. You started to hurry away and excused yourself.

Lily said, "Oh, I see. See you tomorrow!" She waved you away, looking a little perplexed and anxious.

You gently closed the door, careful to not wake up your roommates as you changed out of your school clothes and into your nightwear.

There were multiple feelings racing through you,

"I've wanted to do this since last school year."

It confused you.

James had been nothing but horrid to you.

All the things he had said about you and how much of a loser you basically were. Now he had wanted to kiss you since last school year? It didn't make sense to you.

And the kiss.

You didn't feel disgusted with it, in fact, you enjoyed it.

Your body was happy in ways you hadn't experienced in a long time, even if your conscious mind wasn't.

But James was a jerk and a boy you had hated all summer, so you couldn't feel that way about him.

In fact, you had promised yourself you wouldn't.

One night couldn't change what you had worked so hard for. You couldn't let them take your self-respect again.

It wasn't worth it.

As you lay in bed, you closed your eyes and wished that the tingles in your body and the restless thoughts in your head would stop.

Hoping to leave this night into some intense nightmare.

"Y/N," When you moaned and shook them off, the voice said, "Don't be a twat right now, I am already about to be late as is, wake up!" You let out a loud grunt and opened your eyes to discover a displeased Penelope staring at you as the loudness of the voice increased.

"Shit, what time is it?" You asked, your eyes widening.

"Time to get to bloody class, have you lost your mind?" As you hurriedly sat up and searched through your cupboard for clothing, she said in an increasingly anxious tone.

With frustration, you groaned, "There's no way I slept in again."

"Um, there is a way," Penelope chuckled. "I've been telling you to fix that janky alarm clock since last school year or to even enchant one but no, you stick with it," She huffed, eyeing said alarm clock with intense hatred.

She crossed her arms and looked at you. "I don't even understand why I wake you up, I should've just gone to class," she said, crossing her arms.

"Because you are a good housemate and friend and you sincerely love me," You replied as she struggled to contain the ghost of a smile. "But as much as you love me, get to class!" You urged, "I'll meet you there."

She looked at you hesitantly, "Are you sure?"

"Go!" You rushed her off as she shrugged, grabbing her bag.

"Don't be late," She winked, leaving and closing the door.

Rolling your tights up your legs before your skirt, you rolled your eyes. Even though you looked like a complete disaster when you looked in the mirror, it was sufficient for the day. You hurriedly put on your shoes, picked up your bag, and left the room.

You practically ran down the hallways in order to get to your class, being warned several times by Professors around you to slow down, you always murmuring an apology before continuing a speed walk.

You finally made it in front of the Charms room, and you slowed down your breathing as you entered. You avoided gazes from the entire class as you started walking to find your seat.

"Oh nice to see you Ms. L/N!" Professor Flitwick happily said, "Please sit next to Mr. Lupin," He instructed before giving you a nod and continuing his lesson.

You weren't surprised that Flitwick wasn't mad at you, he had always been extremely nice to you since you had met him.

Your jaw tensed as Remus watched your movements as you sat next to him.

Remus had eyed you multiple times since you sat down throughout the lesson, his eyes glazing over you every two minutes.

You sighed, "What is it, Lupin?" You asked, your eyes still focused on the front.

He looked shocked that you had spoken to him, "Sorry, what?" He asked, staring at you.

You looked at him, "Well, you have been glancing over at me for about every two minutes now, so I'm assuming you have something to say." You said, his mouth gaping, that you had actually said that to him.

"I just wanna talk about what you overheard last year," He started as your eyes went back to the front.

"I don't want to speak about it," You murmured.

Remus frowned, "I just don't want you to think we meant something we didn't." He said as you scoffed.

"So you didn't mean that I was basically a sad case and that you felt bad for me, you all practically mocked me," You countered.

He fiddled with his fingers, "I know what it sounded like, but I swear-" He began.

Professor Flitwick bellowed, "And for this project, you will work with the pairs behind you." Everyone turned behind them as he spoke.

The idea of working with Lupin made your stomach turn, but you were relieved that others would be working with both of you rather than just him.

However, when you turned to look behind you, your gaze met Sirius, the most annoyingly charming person you couldn't seem to forget.

And James, his accomplice.

You gasped in shock, swearing they had never been there before, and then suddenly they were.

"Oh great love, we are gonna be partners!" Sirius grinned as you instantly got up to persuade Flitwick to change and make up some nonsense justification.

Sirius pouted, "Oh love, I wouldn't do that, you don't want Flitwick thinking you're difficult to work with." You rolled your eyes at him, not falling for it. "He might just not write your recommendation for you to be an Auror," He remarked firmly as your eyes widened.

How could he possibly know what?

You sat back down carefully and glared at him, but all he offered you was a smug smirk. You looked away from the boys before you and crossed your arms.

James cleared his throat. He responded, "Well, I say we work in our dorm tonight," and the boys nodded, showing their agreement.

You scoffed, "Why not the library?" You asked, annoyed.

"Because Madam Pince insists on continuing to convince us that she will forever have a stick up her bum," Sirius said in a hushed tone.

"Well, maybe you should learn to shut your mouth once in a while," You spat, giving him a stern look.

He grinned and said, "I love it when you talk dirty to me." He leaned in closer with a whisper, "And I think you would love my mouth."

Your face contorted to disgust as Remus spoke and glared at Sirius, "We will be on our best behavior, and we will even do the most work." He tried to make the situation better.

"I'm not a charity case, I don't need your help," You remarked.

"Trust me love, we know," He replied with a laugh, "But it's the least we can do,"

You sighed, "Fine, but not too late, I don't want Filch to have his knickers in a twist if I'm coming to my dorms at eleven."

"We'll have you in bed by nine," James said, winking,

You rolled your eyes as you began writing something down in your journal. You felt eyes on you as you looked at all of them, "Problem?" You asked.

They all looked away, and you just gave them a strange look as you continued to write.

They had been extremely more weird than last year.

You shrugged the thought off as you tried to cram in as much of your part of the assignment as you could before having to work with them.

The bell chimed, and you instantly started packing up your quills and papers, shoving them into your bag in hopes of escaping this horrible situation as soon as possible.

"Don't be late tonight," Sirius whispered, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

You scowled at him, "Just hope I show up at all, Black." You said as you stood from your seat.

"Oh, trust me," He whispered as he locked eyes with you, "You will."

You swallowed, quickly trying to exit the classroom. You were starting to believe that this school year was a bizarre dream.

You must've been racing out of the room, considering the out-of-breath voice you heard rushing after you, "Y/N!" You looked to see Lily racing after you as you stopped.

She caught up to you as she tried catching her breath, "Merlin, you walk extremely fast," She huffed, throwing a quick laugh.

"How can I help you, Evans?" You asked, clearly not in the right mood for this conversation.

Her face straightened. "I was just hoping that we could talk about everything." She spoke hopefully.

You sighed, "Lily, now is not the best time." You replied, already starting to turn around.

"But!" Lily moved in front of you, "I just don't want you to think that I never cared about our friendship or forgot about you," She said regretfully.

You scoffed, "Lily, we can both be honest with ourselves." You folded your arms. "We were never friends, and you only pretended we were because you pitied me." You said blankly. Lily's eyes saddened as you continued, "But I'm not saying this to make you feel bad, you are a good and kind person, Lily, but we aren't friends."

Lily paused, "Do you actually believe that?" She asked, fiddling with her fingers.

"I'm surprised you don't." You replied as Lily looked down, "Don't get down on yourself, Lily, it wasn't only you." You laughed lightly.

She mustered up a smile, "Thank you for talking to me." She said before exiting the hall.

You hadn't meant to make Lily feel bad but she couldn't have possibly believed that you guys were friends.

Especially after what you had heard.

You were honestly starting to wish it was Winter break already.

This group project was probably one of the most dreadful things that you have had to do in your life.

But your plan was to finish the rest of your part and go back to your dorm, leaving the Marauders and any chance of communicating with them in that room.

Considering that, you were dressed in just your tank top and sleep shorts, wearing a silk coverall.

You knew it wasn't the most appropriate thing in the world, but there was no way the Marauders would ever see you in that way.

You took a deep breath before trying to knock on the door, but before you could, it swung open. Your eyes widened in surprise as James was looking at you with a flustered look as he eyed you up and down.

You looked at him confused, "Uh hi," You uttered.

He gulped, "Hey." He scratched the back of his head as you clicked your teeth.

"Are you gonna invite me in or just stare at me awkwardly?" You asked.

"Oh, sorry," He spoke quietly, widening the door for you.

You came in with your books pressed to your chest as you spotted Remus already at his desk while Sirius lay on his bed, looking at a magazine.

He looked away from the magazine to you, "Well, isn't this a sight?" He hummed, setting it aside on his dresser.

He stood, coming near you with a smug smile as he stared into your eyes.

"I've come here to actually work on the project, Black." You said sternly, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach.

"We can't do pleasantries, dollface?" He asked, coming so close that you could smell his signature scent of Ash and a mix of dark chocolate and mint. You looked up at him, almost feeling his breath fanning your face, "Or maybe we can skip them."

You nervously looked into his eyes, the air growing thick.

"Sirius." Remus warned.

You swallowed as Sirius only smirked, moving near Remus. "I'm only joking, Moony, I'm just trying to make dear Y/N feel more welcome." He sat on the leg of Remus's chair.

You exhaled as James spoke, "You can sit on my bed." He smiled, urging you towards it.

"Thanks." You muttered, sitting on his bed.

You were actually surprised by how soft the mattress was, yours felt like a rock compared.

As if he read your mind, James said, "It took fifty bloody spells to figure out how to break in that mattress." He laughed as you gave a slight nod in response.

"Where do you guys want to start?" You asked, "I've already done most of my writing portion and-"

Remus cut you off, "Maybe we could talk first."

You gave him a confused look, "All due respect, I would rather complete the assignment." You replied, opening your book.

It disappeared in your hand as you spotted Sirius with his wand, giving you a shake of his head.

You huffed, "I came here to work on this project, and if we aren't, I would prefer to be elsewhere." You glared at the boys, beginning to stand.

James stopped you, "Once chance, dove." He pleaded as you crossed your arms, "Just one." He spoke softly

You sat back down as you looked at the boys, "I'm listening." You exhaled.

"We know you overheard us that night.

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aishaspen · 1 month ago

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Social Media [Steve Rogers x Reader]

Summary: Reader teaches Steve how to use social media and he sees her more provocative pictures.

Authors Note: This was written with the intention of a second part so let me know by the end if that sounds appealing. Enjoy!

WC: 1.2k

Steve might have been over a hundred years old but he did his best to keep up with the times. Over the past two years of being with the Avengers, Steve and you had fallen into routine of you casually keeping him up to date with societal standards and routines. Whether it was explaining to him hookup culture or ubers, he was always attentive during your lessons.

You hadn't recognized it, but the past few months, Steve had been taking extra care to impress you. Listening and being there for you was something he took extra pride in as he wanted you to know that he cared.

Little did he know, you had also grown quite fond off the talks you would share. The way his shoulder would brush yours would send shocks down your spine as you tried to ignore any type of non platonic feelings. You truly believed he could never feel that way about you, so you did your best to maintain the friendship.

It was especially hard to keep this act up though when he was staring at you with those bright blue eyes that peered straight into your thumping heart, as he was doing now.

"Please teach me how to use the online medias. Tony won't stop posting pictures of my butt and posting them on the bird app calling it 'America's Ass'." Steve shuttered as he recounted the memes the team would make of him when he wasn't looking. Tony did have a secret spam that he would use to often make fun of the team in a loving way. Everyone assumed it was Peter's doing until you walked in one day on Tony snickering while posting a photo of Clint having fallen asleep in one of the vents.

Looking back at the tall and brutally handsome man in front of you, you sighed and patted the seat on the couch next to you. Steve gave you that faint worthy smile as he politely sat within arms reach of you. The body heat he gave off made you want to melt but you brushed it off and gestured for his phone.

"Oh right!" He fumbled as he patted his pockets down for the phone under Stark Technologies. Steve was one of the only people who denied all the updates Tony would provide for all the team's tech. You always felt bad as using technology for Steve was hard enough without all the constant updates of flashy nonsense.

"So first I'm going to go to the app store and download some of the more common social media apps like Twitter and Instagram." You gently explained as Steve watched you maneuver throughout his phone. He was always left in awe of how natural it all came to you.

"And I don't have to pay for it?" He questioned as you shook your head.

"Nope! Some apps cost money but most don't. Either way, Tony probably would cover it no problem." You stated as the apps downloaded.

Once they were loaded, you opened Instagram and began to sign Steve up. Since there was already an account for Captain America, run by the team's press, there was no need to create a professional one.

"Now I'm gonna make you an account just for your personal use, not to promote any avengers things. Just for Steve!" He nodded along as you rambled, just in awe of you. Honestly you could say anything and he would probably go along with it.

"You can use this account to post or not post whatever. Some people use it for aesthetic pictures they take, photos of friends and family or just selfies of themselves."

"What do you post?" Steve asked as your rambling was cut short. You should've expected this question but you never thought your crush/friend/coworker would ever see your feed (seeing as Steve is clueless when it comes to the internet).

You blushed and stammered to answer, "Well I post pictures of my friends, food I really liked or photos that I look good in I guess..." You mumble the last part and internally beg he wouldn't request to see it. The reason for this being that you had a couple bikini pictures up that usually weren't a problem or shameful secret, but you just didn't want Steve seeing them.

"Can I follow you?" Steve asks with a soft look in his eyes. Your heart fluttered as you pretended to be chill and shrugged looking back at his phone. You proceeded to look up your account and followed it before quickly exiting before he had a chance to see anything.

Steve smiled at you before continuing the conversation, "Thank you for helping me with all this. I didn't want to ask the others and have them make fun of me." He shyly stated as you looked at the man with wide eyes. You didn't realize how comfortable he felt around you until you realized you were the person he came to for help with all of this.

"Oh Steve, it's no problem at all! Plus you're such a fast learner that it's no big deal." Plus you loved being around him so that made it easy. You weren't gonna tell him that last part though...

After another hour of explaining how social media worked, Steve gave you another genuine smile and excused himself to go finish up a last minute report. The second he left the room you let out an exhausted sigh and sunk back into the couch.

Everytime Steve was around you, you got so in your own head that he basically consumed your mind. Little did you know you had the same effect on Steve. The second he stepped into his office, he let out a sigh he didn't realize he was holding. The only real reason he wanted to get on social media was to see all the photos you always seemed to be posting. He saw one of your photos on Natashas phone the other day when she left it out and had never felt so compelled to steal something before.

Within the privacy of his office, Steve finally brought his phone back out and opened Instagram. Going to his following page like you taught him, he opened your account and almost passed out. Right there on your third latest post was a picture of you and Wanda from a hike you had gone on a couple days prior.

Looking at the blissful smile on your face, Steve felt himself falling even harder for you. He continued to scroll through your account until he landed on one of your posts from a couple months ago. You had gone with the girls on a beach trip (funded by Tony) and had a mini photoshoot at the beach. Steve's face flushed bright red as he tried not to look too hard at the photo. He couldn't help but admire the red one piece you were wearing and how it hugged each of your curves in a way that left his mouth watering.

Fumbling to exit out of the photo before he continued to think the lewd thoughts forming in his mind, Steve accidentally hit the like button. Actively trying to not mess up further, Steve threw his phone across the room, hoping it would turn off. Digging his nails into the desk, he took deep breaths as to try and erase the image of you looking so breathtakingly stunning in his mind.

Hesitantly going to pick back up his phone, Steve noticed a new message from you. He quickly opened it up to find a text that made his breath catch, "Come meet me in my room in 10". Holy shit.

Authors Note: Comment if you want a part 2 with smut ;)

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aishaspen · 2 months ago

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Old Dog, New Tricks

From a lovely 'Sweet Sunday' ask!

Prompt from @whiskeytangofoxtrot555: Our soft boi Steve is in a relationship with a fellow Avenger (but not Keeps—this is in another timeline) who is just as sexually inexperienced as he is, but when Steve comes back from a particularly long and dangerous mission he realizes life is too short to not “take it to the next level’ with his girl—and she feels the same way.

WC- 4306 (🤯 yeah, what the hell happened, you ask? i don't know. you get what you get 🤷🏻‍♀️) Also completely written in a couple of hours, so if there was editing, it was all a joke and everyone can laugh with me...

If you couldn't tell from the prompt, THERE'S SMUT. Minors DNI.

Steve didn’t notice anything until months and months of fighting with you—no, that sounds wrong—beside you. He fights beside you, and sometimes behind you where he gets to see the sides of you, all of you really, and the curves…he just…

He’s having trouble putting it all together basically. You’re highly efficient and dedicated to the Team; you have been since day one. It started with Steve admiring that dedication, and seeing a lot of his own workaholic tendencies in you—oh dear, no, that’s also. Uh boy.

Steve can’t seem to pull it together.

The real problem started with a very typical situation. The Team came home from a mission, and to blow off some steam, they played a game. Since they love to tease each other about how little they all get to have personal lives, “Never Have I Ever” is a favorite. Steve takes it on the chin, but he notices that you never play. Sure, being too tired or wanting to check in with your family and other friends is a good excuse for a while, but every single time over months is…suspicious. When Steve saw that familiar shy smile, the one he puts on right before the game starts, he knew, and suddenly, so many things made so much sense to him.

So he didn’t feel so alone. That was really nice for a while. Then he accidentally noticed you—that way—because he thought “why wouldn’t she?” He knows why he has no experience, but look at you! It doesn’t make sense to him. Well, it does. He gets it, but…

Steve can’t find the words to describe how angry he is at other men for not noticing and wanting to touch you…except, he really gets angry thinking about if other men did that now. He knows it’s not fair to be jealous or possessive of someone who he is not with and has no right to, but…Steve has hopes.

In classic Steve Roger’s fashion, though, he sits on those hopes. He thinks he’ll die with those hopes, and that’s fine until a bullet catches your shoulder during a fight. You were pushing Natasha out of the way while she took out targets from another direction, and Steve was too far away to chance running all the way over. He had to let someone else get you back to the jet. He had to pay attention and finish the mission, so they could all get out of here and get you to real medical help.

He may have punched a few guys much harder than was necessary to knock them out. It’s not like he killed anybody… He just let Natasha kill a few extra people. No big deal. One of them shot you, so…justice?

Steve tries to play it all off from the moment Sam says over comms that you’re stable and will be fine. Steve doesn’t feel any better about it, but he starts rationalizing immediately.

It’s a through and through.

They’ve got the best med team on the planet.

You’re a fighter and a trouper and a strong woman, and you’ll be fine. Fine. Fine.

The word echos in his head, rattling around while the meaning warps back and forth until he’s sitting in the cargo hold, swallowing thickly while you’re leaned against him, his hands on either side of your shoulder keeping pressure on the wound.

“Just one more hole, eh, Cap?”

How much morphine did Sam give you? You’re pupils are dilated, and you’re taking this pretty well. You have a bullet wound, and you’re giggling. Nat’s even smiling. Steve glares at her for taking this too lightly, and Natasha puts her hands up in defeat and walks away to check on Bruce.

Your tongue rolls slowly over your bottom lip. “I’m thirsty.”

Steve swallows what feels like a whole bottle of saliva at once, but he can’t move his hands from your shoulder—which is also incidentally very close to one of your breasts—but he’s not thinking about that, is he?

“I gotcha,” Bucky obliges, coming back with a canteen, holding your chin still while he slowly pours water into your mouth—and get it together, Steve. This isn’t the time.

Buck pours too fast for a second, and water drips down to your chest. It’s ignored for the most part.

“Better?” Bucky releases your chin as you nod, and he heads up front to Sam.

Your head tilts down, your free hand slowly, clumsily raising to swipe the droplets from your tact suit. “If I could learn to swallow,” you mumble.

Mother of mercy, Steve would give anything not to have super-hearing at this moment. That’s going to haunt him while he’s alone—alone at night, he reminds himself. He wants to disappear into the shadows just so he won’t have to control his face (or body) for five minutes while all these thoughts bounce around in that giant head of his. No. Stop, punk, do not.

Steve’s so fucking screwed and not in a good way.

He’s sweating worse when the jet lands than he was in the throws of battle. He lets the med team take over and get you on a gurney, but he stays seated because…he just needs a minute.

Of course, Bucky notices.

“She’ll be fine, pal. Don’t worry.”

“I know,” Steve says far too quickly. “It’s not that.” He can’t lie worth beans.

“Uh huh.” Buck clicks his tongue. “Right, well, I think we’ll all feel better after we get cleaned up.”

Steve comes down to the conference room after his shower, but he had to actively think of what he’d normally do instead of rush to the infirmary to check on you. Debriefs. Those were a thing after missions. You are usually at them, too, which makes his heart sink a little lower in his gut to realize.

They can’t start the meeting yet because Tony isn’t down. He takes the longest showers on the planet, so all the military personnel sit and twiddle their thumbs per usual while they wait.

Steve takes his usual seat by Bucky, not expecting an incredibly unusual conversation.

“Go ahead. Ask me anything.”

Steve looks rightfully confused while sipping on a cup of coffee.

“Look, if you don’t get off your ass, one of us is gonna lock you two in a room until you fuck.”

Scalding hot coffee spews across the table, and while Buck may have truly whispered all that, everyone is now staring at Steve.

He sets down the cup and says the first—and stupidest—thing that comes to mind. “It’s hazelnut.”

Bucky smirks. “Stevie hates hazelnut,” he deadpans, slapping Steve unreasonably hard on the back a few times.

The burning in Steve’s mouth is nothing compared to the glares he feels. He’d be lobotomized by now if looks could kill, but the group takes it in stride, ignoring the profuse and almost scary shade of red that creeps up his neck.

The flush hasn’t fully dissipated by the time you’re wheeled in. The chair is not from injury but because you’re shaky on pain meds and will need rest. He wants to fawn over you and ask to do a million little things for you, but all Steve manages is a crooked smile and intense fear of whatever Bucky’s about to do.

But it’s not Bucky.

Sam Wilson charms his way around the back of your wheelchair slowly, pushing you up to the table right beside Steve, and coos, “can I get you anything? A coffee perhaps?”

He doesn’t have to do it though because Natasha is already setting a mug down in front of you.

“Careful, dear. It’s hazelnut.” Natasha puts on her best if-you-could-hit-a-woman smirk and aims it right at Steve’s cardinal red face.

“Ooo,” you squeak quietly, “I love hazelnut.”

Steve determines he’ll make a move anyway, but in a very typically, shy, Steve Rogers way.

When the meeting’s over, he volunteers to roll you back to your room for some sleep. He’s overly polite and cautious helping you out of the chair and changing out of partial hospital clothes. They cut away the top of your uniform, but your gown keeps you covered while he yanks off the pant legs of your skintight suit. He’s proud of himself for keeping it professional and friendly until he chickens out and tries to leave.

You’ve started to cry and ask for, of all things, a hug.

Steve’s melting faster than a Coney Island ice cream cone in the dead of summer. Of course, he’ll hug you. He’s literally dying to hold you.

It is, however, awkward with your injured arm. After trying a few angles, he swings around to wrap his arms at your waist and set his chin on your good shoulder. Steve’s never hugged anyone for so long and yet it was not long enough.

He never officially asks you out. He just keeps coming around every day and helps you do everything. When you’re in rehab for your shoulder, he helps with your muscle stretches, but he also simply hangs out near you.

When you two are alone he holds your hand or puts his arm over you. Eventually, he just snuggles up to you, standing, seated, or prone. Steve adores touching you, but not like that, not yet.

In hushed conversations, fingers wrapped together, cheek pressed to his chest, you’ve explained that it’s just never happened for you. You weren’t comfortable or a guy was too pushy or the timing was all off. Steve’s terrified now because he wants nothing more than for you to be comfortable, to not push you to anything ever, and—GAH—he hopes he has good timing. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t, but he relishes what you two have.

He especially relishes the one night when you two fell asleep in each other’s arms only to wake up—and it’s only because of what happened that Steve will admit this—horny as all hell. Nobody even removed clothing, but he was rock hard and moaning as you tossed a leg above his hip and rubbed against him. If he’s not mistaken, his poorly muffled shout when he came pushed you over the edge. That or Steve’s tight grip on your ass to help you move at a feverish pace.

Steve Rogers is a terrifically patient man, however, so he follows your lead and enjoys lots of intimacy even without, ya know, penetration. He cares and he wants to, but he doesn’t really care and doesn’t need it. If that makes sense. He’s not sure whether that’s wholly true or whether he’s just justifying stalling. He’s afraid of hurting you or being awful at it—or both. Could be both.

Luckily, the Team has now assumed you two are, well, having sex, and misinterpret the pair of you excusing yourselves from “Never Have I Ever” as a way to hide what you’ve done, not what you haven’t done. Steve isn’t correcting anyone, but that means he can’t really ask for advice without admitting very personal things.

He eavesdrops on conversations, even jokingly, that other Avengers and agents have about their sexcapades. He’s fascinated and a little shocked to learn a lot has changed since the good ol’ days when his Ma explained the birds and the bees to him.

Steve will need to do what? Right where? Is that legal? Wait, multiple times? He’s a logistics guy, so the hand-waving of specifics is irritating. How come the clitoris and G-spot have to be so damn hidden? He’s got a cock and balls. Boom. They’re out there for the world to see, well, no, sorta, but it’s certainly easier to get the gist where to touch. Instead, he’s gonna have to dig around and try angles? He has to control his tongue how?

The more Steve tries to plan and prepare himself, the more nervous he gets because this isn’t some sort of practice round: it’s you.

It’s such a strange thing that breaks him. On a mission that ends up being more of a retrieval of some evil douchebag from his palace in another country, Steve sees a woman. She may be the guy’s wife or mistress, but she has that look, the exact same look you had when you told him about men who did not treat you right. He understands why it bothers him so much in that moment.

She thinks that’s what she deserves. She thinks that’s all there is.

Steve feels sick with that thought the entire way home, and he knows you don’t understand when he shows up pounding at your door in the compound. He knows you don’t understand what’s happened when he takes you in his arms, cradles the back of your head, and kisses you like you’ll both be gone tomorrow. He knows you sense something has shaken him when he hoists your legs around his waist and carries you to your bedroom, but then he knows it’s time to talk.

“I love you, and I need you to know it.” He’s stern even when pinning you to your sheets and holding your face to only see him.

“Ok,” you gasp breathlessly. “I love you, too, Steve.”

“No, but—“ he’s had hours in a quinjet to figure out how to say this and he’s still fumbling “—I need you to know you deserve love.”

He watches that hit you harder than his body in the doorway, watches the soft refocusing of your eyes, watches the tensing brow in disbelief, watches the barely-there quiver of your lip. All of this, he watches, and that’s how he knows you heard, even if you don’t understand yet.

He slowly inches down to kiss you again. It’s completely different from every other kiss before, slow and tender, but not at all soft. His hand slides to your hip and pulls you as close to him as possible, flush with him, fused with him.

“Do you think we could try…” he mutters into your mouth in between ragged breaths. He hears your heartbeat hammering like a frantic drumline beneath him, and you nod. He’s both so outrageously excited and petrified that he’ll lose his nerve. He just has to remember what he told himself in the jet: if he can try six different times to get enlisted into the army, he can find a gosh darn g-spot.

No one—no one—would categorize what he does as a graceful disrobing. If you weren’t clearly surprised and nervous, you probably would have laughed at him, and Steve has a mind to tear the crew responsible for his suit a new one over how many pieces there are to loosen and remove until he can finally crook his fingers through the band of your shorts and settle between your legs.

Your shirt is still on, and he hasn’t pressed himself against you because honestly, he’s admiring the view for a moment. He can’t get over how you’re chewing the ever-loving hell out of your bottom lip while looking so greedily at his naked body. Steve knows he doesn’t look the way he grew up seeing himself in the mirror. Never hurts to remind him, and it still makes him blush.

Your eyes dart between his. “It’ll hurt.”

“You tell me the instant it hurts, and we stop. I promise.” Steve lowers himself again and plants a feather-light kiss to your bitten lips. “We don’t have to, you kn—“

“No, I—“ your hands grip at his broad shoulders “—I mean, I’m…just scared, but I…”

“Sweets, I don’t think either of us is ever going to not be scared.” Steve smiles when he sees you grin up at him.

“Somewhere, there’s a grammar Nazi who’ll come find you for that one, Rogers.”

Steve has to laugh, but he doesn’t have to laugh without kissing you feverishly again. Of your own accord, your hands move down, and down, and down to his ass (which only makes him chuckle a little more), and your hips roll up to meet his in a lazy rhythm.

A familiar heat building in his gut, Steve breaks away. “Can I touch you?”

He sees your mouth open for a witty retort, but nerves take over. You simply nod again.

Steve takes it back. It’s like jumping out of a plane into enemy terrain. With just his fingertips gliding along the soft skin of your folds, he has no idea what he’s doing. What if he tries to press into your ass by accident? Jesus, what if this is just the beginning of his confusion? He tries to press just a little, hoping it seems less exploratory that way.

You clench, and he feels it.

“I’m ready, Steve. I trust you.”

Well, that’s nice and all, but he’s pretty sure he’s made a huge mistake. If he’d been braver, if he’d thought this through, he’d’ve asked for advice. Who he would have asked, Steve doesn’t know.

He can feel it now, your entrance. One finger snags along its edge before he slowly pushes in. Your whine is quickly released into a sigh. It’s ok. You’re ok. No pain, or at least very little of it, so he presses on, smearing around some of the slick coating his finger before adding a second. That makes your fist ball up the sheets at your hips and hiss around a sob. Steve immediately pulls his fingers out.

“Alright? I can stop.”

“No. No,” you pant, “it’s just, uh, the stretch of it stings, but it’s not…I’m ok.”

Steve’s an idiot. He watches your chest rise and fall, realizing something he’s overheard a bunch of times in various ways: if you’re more aroused, you can take him easier. He forgot real foreplay.

Steve doesn’t have to know anatomy and logistics to know that he’d like to kiss you everywhere, so he nuzzles up the hem of your shirt and snakes his fingers (some wet and some dry) up your sides. He’s rewarded with breathy gasps and whimpers he could hear on repeat for a lifetime. He really loves the delicate kind of heft your breasts have in his hands and commits the balance of firm plushness to memory. The texture of your nipple across his lips and tongue is interesting, but he likes your sounds a lot more. He really likes when you arch up into him and grab his hair.

Tentatively, while you’re wholly distracted by his hot mouth dancing all over your chest, Steve returns his hand to your mound. He doesn’t need to press closer to feel the damp pooling heavily between your legs. He’s pleased with himself, to say the least, but it’s still about you even if he is oddly close to finishing untouched based on sound and smell alone. His fingers glide in almost easily now, so easily (and knowing his own size) that he adds a third which is still a stretch.

Oh lord, the guttural thing that rattles out of your throat, though, will haunt his dreams forever. He wants to make you do that again. That’s not a pained sound; it’s close but not quite, and while Steve can’t explain why, he feels pride brewing along with the heat within him.

He curls his fingers, remembering that’s one of those oft-mentioned moves, and he doesn’t expect how immediately your legs fall wider for him. He also suddenly understands the difference in feel between the ridging on your walls and this one spongy spot right there.

Steve looks up from your breast, smiling, only to see that your head is thrown back. That’s ok. He’ll just have a smug moment all to himself because he found it, and he didn’t even have to ask or look it up. Take that, unhelpful euphemisms. Steve Rogers is good at sex.

A very high-pitch whine escapes you before he realizes what he’s doing. Steve buried his fingers in your heat while in his own thoughts, resting the heel of his palm against you, and then started pumping shallowly. Oh. Oh. Alright, he’s starting to get the hang of this, he thinks.

He debates simply watching you continue to fall apart or moving on, but a flash of something deeply feral, carnal all the way down to his core, teases him with the prospect of him being buried inside you, mouths within reach, eyes aligned. It’s not a difficult sell at this point. Steve’s fully supportive of his body existing to be used in this—

“Shit,” Steve hisses. He forgot the freaking condom. He plays it off as you struggle to participate in a coherent conversation, but he’s glad you’re not too far gone when you toss out your arm.

“Implant,” you huff, another groan rolling past your trapped upper lip. “’s fine. Please.”

What kind of gentleman would he be if he quit now, huh?

His whole body is just hot, blood pumping but somehow not efficiently for any other function than to crawl atop you and bask in the look of stunned bliss behind your blown out pupils. Smug is maybe too light of a word. Steve’s ecstatic.

He’s so excited, in fact, and slightly tricked by how wet you are when he first nudges his length against you, that he plunges right in. Your yelp tells him that was wrong, and Steve kisses the few tears that escape your tightly closed eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, sweets. Let me—“

“Don’t. Just don’t move for a sec,” you whisper, though he’s not sure you mean to.

Your legs scramble up the back of his, adjusting you and your angle, shifting him deeper even though he isn’t meaning to move. It’s torturous, but he stays completely still.

The few deep breaths you take brush your breasts up against him, and Steve can’t stop himself from taking one in hand again, kneading gently.

“Yes,” you finally sigh, hips rocking a little against his. He has permission to move, and oddly, he realizes he has permission to feel your body so tight around him. It’s a consistent and sensual pressure that Steve admits might be so glorious it should be illegal, but hell, if he’s gonna deny himself this ever again.

You’re perfect. You’re so perfect. You feel so good. He’ll never feel anything as wonderful as you and—

Steve snaps his mouth shut just as the short thrusts he’s been revving up with bring him nearly all the way out of you. Every thought in his head was coming out of his mouth. Maybe he’s a little too excited. He feels a tight pool of pressure that’s not directly gripped by your body, and he’s got to focus on you again. Focus. He can do it.

But then he sinks back into your heat, and no, he cannot do it.

“You want to try…” he’s breathing pretty hard now, too, apparently “…on top?”

“Yeah,” you huff, sloppily propping up on your elbows, “how do I—“

He’s wasting no time. Steve pulls you up into him for a kiss and rolls. He flops so heavily on your mattress, you bounce on him without either of you trying and this is awesome.

It’s that instant that Steve sees the same playful, delirious enjoyment in your eyes as he feels right now. You’ve dipped a toe in, and the water is nice. Jump on in. Steve’s like to let himself drown at this point, so whatever you want…

You experiment with a few types of movement while he watches in total fascination. The style you settle on is pressing your hands flat to his pecs, leaning slightly forward (which pinches your breasts together and dangles them right before his eyes), and dragging your pelvis down over him.

He’s done for. Your tightness pulls on his cock just rough enough to drive him crazy, and that feral urge snaps to the forefront of his brain again. He tweaks your nipples between his fingers and lifts his hips each time you get closer, allowing him deeper. When your body gets tired, torn between fatigue and the heavy coil trying not to break inside, Steve’s hands latch onto your hips and help you keep pace just like they did when you dry humped each other on this very bed. Nothing dry about this though, except maybe his mouth that’s been hanging open for however long now.

He licks his lips just as your head falls and your eyes lock onto his. You whine his name in the downright dirtiest, sexiest, mind-numbing way that the feral piece of him takes completely over. He’s just frantically rutting, pumping your hips into his in whatever way feels so fucking amazing he’s—

Your choked scream startles him for a split second until a deep moan rumbles behind it. Fuck, you’re gorgeous. Fuck, he loves you. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he’s coming, and then everything dissolves in a toe-curling rush of tangible feelings and heart-stopping emotions.

And then he’s surprised again.

You both come back down to your bodies, he pulls out of you cautiously, and you lay down at his side. Steve pets a thumb over your cheek and softly kisses your lips each time your eyes open back up to him. He shifts around to cover you both in blankets and listens to you hum while you start to fall asleep. Finally, just when he thinks you’re dead to the world, you jump forward (but about as fast as a sloth ‘jumps’ forward) to snuggle against him.

Steve’s already so whipped for this. He’ll give you anything and everything just to be here with him now, all night, all day, months and months, forever. He’ll fight with you, beside you, behind you, on you, inside you. Anything.

He’s done waiting to try.

[Find more on my Masterlist]

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The Sequel: Your Dog, His Tricks

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aishaspen · 2 months ago

Text

Big Pharma

Steve Rogers x doctor!Reader

Written for @stargazingfangirl18's Birthday Bonenanza--HAPPY BDAY, SIRI!--using the scenario prompt ~quick, frantic, secret sex in an almost public place + babe's hand over your mouth to keep you quiet~ and the dialogue prompt "goddamnit, will you just f***ing let me do this for you?" with free use kink for good measure. Why not?

Summary: The extreme drug cocktail you devise to save Steve Rogers has one major side effect.

Warnings for smut 🥴, sorta dub-con because it's like sex pollen, F E E L S, Steve being the most chivalrous gentleman while railing you (do it for your country, babes 🫡), completely unintentional dirty talk from Steve but 😮‍💨 we'll allow it, Tony being Tony, and--as always-- terrible puns. (There are no mentions of any medical instruments, except an IV, which is not used.) MINORS DNI. This is a mature gift work; see my Light Masterlist for all-age fanfic that is fine for minors. WC 2k

The constant photoflash burns into your retinas obnoxiously, and you’re not even the subject of the paparazzi.

Captain America is alive—all thanks to you—though he could easily have been six-feet under by now. The mysterious infection was so bad and spread so far, the drug regimen you administered constitutes one of the Avengers’ biggest Hail Marys to date, but it’s working. That’s all that matters…to the world. Behind the scenes is a different story.

As Captain Rogers turns to the next hand he must shake, his sharp blue eyes find you, twinged with a familiar fear.

This stupid event scheduled by Stark to boost morale, to show Cap is just fine and back in fighting form, has gone on too long. It’s happening again.

You worried Rogers might not make it when suddenly Stark showed up hours earlier than the initial, planned press conference—because, of course, there’s meet-and-greets, quick interviews, and these damn handshakes. He’s only gone so long between treatments for the last week.

You nod at Cap and make your way in the small crowd back to Stark. You tell him you’ll need a room, somewhere private to put in the IV, and at least thirty minutes to administer the huge dose. Rogers’s super-metabolism makes it necessary to use approximately forty times the prescription average for antibiotics and steroids. In theory, the side effects are well worth his speedy recovery.

Well, the only side effect.

Stark looks horrendously annoyed. “Can’t you just shoot him up with it and be done?” He doesn’t need your lecture repeated though. “Fine, there’s a greenroom thing over there, but you’ve got fifteen minutes at most, you hear me?”

“Twenty-five, Mr. Stark. He’s not a water balloon.”

“Twenty or he can wheel the damn thing around with him.”

You gulp in nervousness, but the problem isn’t Stark’s attitude. Rogers isn’t going to like rushing this. He feels shame enough already.

“I’ll make it work,” you assure the stubborn playboy. If he only knew…

“Good. A team player. We value that here.”

You have no fucking idea how ironic that is, you scream internally, but you follow him to a door off a back hallway, a room that shares a wall with the space all those people are gathered, and thank Stark.

“Oh good, he’s heard the dog-whistle of treat time,” Tony quips, and you swivel to see Cap trailing behind you.

He’s already made his excuses to step away, too. It must be bad.

You’re sure to pull out your props of a saline drip and tubing from your bag while Tony can still see, but you drop the act the instant the door clicks shut.

Cap take one step forward to flip the lock, immediately unzipping the fly of his iconic leather suit.

See, the only side effect of the drugs is Rogers gets hard, often, and can’t find relief from his efforts alone. Through trial-and-error, the clear solution has been help—discretely—from the only medical professional allowed around him until his condition improved.

Of course, he fought it. Of course, you wanted to preserve his dignity. Of course, you tried to keep it as perfunctory, methodical, and uninspired as possible, but the thing is, that didn’t last.

The more distant and cold the experience, the faster he became desperate and wanting again, and now you have just twenty minutes to make sure Captain America can hold out for hours.

Steve, you remind yourself. He prefers you not use respectful address when engaging is what he deems entirely disrespectful behavior.

You need to get him off in essentially no time at all, so you’ve decided: go big or go home.

Bag tossed to the floor, you unbutton your pants and shimmy out of everything from shoes to panties, letting the longer tail of your dress shirt barely cover your modesty.

Steve looks dumbfounded. It’s bad enough he has to run to you for a handy every few hours, but this?

“Doc, no,” he breaths.

“I understand the procedure,” you say calmly, echoing his harrowing consent from that first night he needed you.

Steve’s brow furrows in strain. “We shouldn’t…”

‘We’ are way past ‘shouldn’t,’ buddy.

“Can’t ask you to…“ but he also knows time’s a wasting.

He’s already fisting himself, struggling to be the gentleman he never stopped being, which at the moment is a huge problem because both of you need to get through the day—you without losing your job and him without popping a boner on national television.

It’s your job to break him and break him right now.

“Goddamnit, will you just fucking let me do this for you?”

There’s a flat smack on the door.

“Do whatever the lady wants and then get back out here,” Tony yells from the other side. “Put us all out of our misery,” he ends with a grumble.

That is by far the most helpful thing Stark has said in the last week, so you mouth “see” and begin undoing your blouse from the bottom, giving Steve his first peek of you. His hand speeds along his length, adam’s apple bobbing in concentration.

“Here, I’ll make it easy for you,” you whisper. You walk to the far corner of the room, put your hands up, shirt rising over your bare ass, and face the wall. Your voice is soothing, pleading even. “Just take what you need.”

In some ways, you feel responsible for his predicament. You are the prescribing doctor, he isn’t in a relationship where a partner could assist, and he insists no one else know. He doesn’t deserve to be poked and prodded more than necessary, and you can’t give him any other meds in combination. None of it is his fault same as none of it is yours. You only intended to heal him.

Truthfully though, none of this is just about his release anymore, much as you’d like to dismiss your feelings.

You can’t deny, however, that each time the air gets a little thicker with tension, the body language a little more intimate. Steve has kept his eyes open, clutched your free hand to his chest, rolled his hips open, and thrust up into your fist. The greater the satisfaction of his climax, the longer he retains control.

“When this is over…I swear,” he grits out, getting closer word by word until his deep voice is right by your ear.

He tugs your shirt up to dip his fingers between your legs. “Been smelling you for two days. Can’t do anything until—” Steve growls, feeling how slick you’ve become in anticipation “—you’re ready for me.”

His concern washes away when two fingers easily breech you to the knuckle and are immediately replaced by the blunt head of his cock dragging between your folds.

You didn’t expect him to give in so fast. You didn’t expect him to have known this aroused you. The idea he might want to continue, to go further, races down your spine, following the opposite path of Steve leaning into you. His forehead presses your occipital as yours presses the wall. The heat of him makes you arch in luxurious proximity.

Steve fucking forward to enter you in one smooth motion makes you forget to be quiet, but before the whole shout of ecstasy escapes, his hand covers your mouth.

“Shhh, Doc,” he breathes at the base of your neck. “Be good for me.”

That only gets you moaning into the seam of his gloves.

His hips start a staccato rhythm, a second of loud friction for each second of silent, fulfilling pressure.

Steve slips his still wet fingers under your shirt and beneath the cup of your bra to swirl a smooth pattern over your nipple. Instead of voicing your approval, you shove yourself back into him faster.

You notice the muffled chatting of Tony and someone else outside while your eyes roll. The slap of your skin against the Cap suit becomes the loudest thing in the room, but that’s not what Steve minds.

He pulls out and spins you around, pausing to see the cream you’ve created at the base of him drip to the carpet below.

Deep sea eyes meet yours through golden lashes.

“If I can’t hear you…” Steve hoists you up to his waist, threading one arm through the bend in your knee, spreading you wide and diving in swiftly.

Your body curls forward automatically to grasp at him and smother yourself in the leather of his shoulder pad. This pace is much faster, purposeful, utterly unravelling you. The position delivers more range of motion, all of the buildup and less of the noise, with the added benefit of his tool belt nudging your clit repeatedly.

Tony pounds on the door. “‘Bout done in there, guys? Let’s go.” How apt, the unknowing jester.

Steve pants, open-mouthed, against your temple.

You smile but can’t stop your own ruin.

A groan gets buried in your disheveled hair. “Are you…close?” His hips snap brutally. “Are you—“ he sounds wrecked “—you gonna…come on my—uungh.”

You tip over the edge, clutching him tight and fluttering for him in every way. The detonation of your orgasm burns red behind your eyelids like camera flashes, a dirty snapshot for you alone.

“Mercy,” Steve begs, gripping your ass to rut into you, desperate to join. His neck tenses as he spills inside you, pulse throbbing in time with his cock.

He leans against you and the wall, his steady weight stilling your shaky legs. Slowly, your feet are guided to the floor and Steve steps away to wipe away any evidence of his ‘therapeutic treatment.’ His breathing settles much faster than yours, and by the time he’s tucked back in with his suit righted, you’re simply sliding down the wall to catch up.

He hurries over to the small vanity and mini fridge—usually ‘guests’ for speaking (or interrogating) wait here—to bring you supplies.

A box of tissues is set by your side.

“So…” he hands you a bottle of water “…maybe…dinner tonight?”

You set the water down in favor of cleaning yourself, glancing up to offer a reassuring dismissal. “This morning was your last dose,” you remind him. “It should be over soon.”

Steve may not need this anymore, may never need you again, but he doesn’t miss a single beat.

“I’d like—I want to take you some place nice, but…” He chugs his whole water then quickly unclasps the glove on his left hand, rolling up his sleeve, veins jumping over a thick forearm.

“I don’t know what food you enjoy.”

Arguably, he knows a few other things that you enjoy.

There’s another impatient bang at the door.

“I—“ Your heart soars with the soft sincerity of his face, no trace of fear left behind, no hesitation. “I’m gonna need a minute.”

Steve stands, smoothing a hand over his hair. “I’ll lock it behind me…and, um, thank you, Doc.”

It’s the first time he hasn’t apologized this whole week.

“You’re welcome, sir.”

Steve flashes you a dopey smile and shakes his head. “See you out there,” he chuckles.

You can’t be seen when the door opens just enough for Steve to step out, but he makes a show of rolling the suit’s sleeve back down like he really did have an IV infusion, selling the lie like a pro. He keeps Tony talking while shutting you back into your debauched bubble.

Through the wall, you still hear “could you have gone any slower?” followed by a curt, “yes,” and have to stifle a laugh.

“What’d you do, blow a vein?”

You’re picturing an incredibly ironic look on Captain Rogers’ face.

“Just be grateful she puts up with us, Tony…” and their voices disappear down the hall.

His treatment may be finished, but Steve wants you to stick around. He wants you.

Would having dinner with that man really be so terrible? No. Not at all. Even the ‘worst’ of this situation has been a great fucking experience. You don’t want to give that up yet.

It seems you’re both addicted now.

[Main Masterlist; Steve Rogers One-Shots; Ko-Fi]

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