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aurynsia · 8 months ago

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Touch Tank

James Potter x Reader

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Summary: Your friends discover that you and James have finally done the deed…

Warnings: 18+ MATURE THEMES, oneshot, suggestive content, implied intimacy, virgin!james x virgin!reader, teasing, Sirius being Sirius, mild wolfstar content, reader is embarrassed about intimacy, and, of course, James Potter is good in bed.

Word count: 1.4K

Masterist

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

James had pleaded for you to stay behind to study at Hogwarts during this week’s Hogsmeade trip, claiming he couldn’t pass his next exam without his pretty girlfriend by his side. You began working at James’ desk before moving to his floor…then to his bed.

He stared at you with pure longing as you transcribed notes from your textbook, his touch was soft against your shoulders as he kissed your skin. His attention had completely abandoned his own notes long ago, preferring to cover you in gentle kisses pressed to your back.

You couldn’t pretend to focus on your textbook any longer, closing it softly before sending it to the dorm room floor. You turned to face your breathless boyfriend, silently begging you with his big brown eyes.

The make out session that followed was more passionate than any other you two had shared, James gripping at your skin as he rocked his hips into yours.

“We can stop here if you want to,” he muttered breathlessly during a short break. The corners of your lips threatened to tilt into a flirtatious smirk as you softly pushed him backwards. James’ growing desperation was obvious, the boy grinning at you while flipping your bodies over, resting on top of you and making you squeal as his lips traveled down your exposed skin.

The events that followed left you naked and panting beneath his sheets, gazing up at the ceiling in a daze as your boyfriend nuzzled into your neck with a satisfied groan and a beaming smile.

He clutched your sides protectively, sighing as he pulled back to gaze at your flustered face, grinning at the result of his handy work. He kissed up and down your jaw, pausing for a second to admire the marks left by his desperate affection.

You were still reeling from the memory of moments ago, brain fuzzy from the overwhelming pleasure. I was sure the first time was meant to be bad… you thought to yourself. Finally, you noticed James’ lovesick gaze at your neck and collarbone, eyes wide as you realised what he was observing.

“Might have to cover these up before breakfast tomorrow, darling,” he smiled apologetically with sleep lacing his whispering voice, “I went a bit overboard, I’m sorry…” He nuzzled back into your neck with a bashful smile, drawing circles on your skin with his fingers.

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

The next day was cold with the promise of impending rain, a perfect climate for inconspicuously slipping on a turtleneck under your uniform before leaving for breakfast with your roommates. You had always maintained a sense of privacy with James, reluctant to tell your friend group quite as much as they tell you about their romantic escapades.

Mary, Dorcas and Lily took their seats on one side of the Gryffindor table as you saved seats for the Marauders on the other. Breakfast was peaceful, the four of you making small talk and enjoying your food before the Great Hall doors opened to reveal the more obnoxious half of your group.

James was looking particularly confident, smiling wide with crinkled eyes and walking with a slight bounce in his step. The boys piled onto the bench next to you while James reached over your head to pluck a peach from the fruit bowl.

“Morning hot stuff,” James winked at you as he slid into the space between you and Sirius, lacing a hand along your back, around your torso and between your thighs. You glared at his cocky grin, face warming at the intimate contact. “What?” he whispered, feigning innocence, “my hands are cold.”

“Uh- Mary was just telling us about this muggle game,” you diverted, “what was it called again?” Mary lit up, returning to her rambling about a complicated board game involving houses and train stations.

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

You were far gone by the time Mary caught the others up to speed, engrossed in the way James was breathing against your skin and holding you against his warm, muscular form.

He began to pull at your turtleneck ever so slightly, first at your stomach to rub soothing circles into your skin, then at your neck to peer at his masterpiece from the previous night. James pressed a soft kiss to the highest mark, causing you to shiver and stare intently at your breakfast to distract yourself.

By the time your boyfriend had removed himself from your skin, Mary had finished her explanation and all eyes were on the two of you.

Sirius furrowed his brows, gazing from James, to you, back to James, then to Remus. Remus watched your interaction curiously, eyes gliding down to where James’ hand met the inside of your upper thigh, a familiar symbol of lust he knew all too well from Sirius’ own actions under the table. The girls across from you glanced at each other, then at Peter, before Dorcas completed the circle of confused looks as she stared at Sirius, who finally broke the silence.

“So, Prongs…get much study done while we were out yesterday?” James’ lustful grin faltered as he finally acknowledged your friends’ presence for the first time that morning, turning away from you and towards his roommate.

“Uh- yeah, yeah we did actually! Totally prepared for the exam, Minnie will be praising me,” he pulled one of his hands away from your skin to the back of his neck, scratching in an awkward display of nervousness. His other hand traveled down your leg to rest on your knee, a far more common sight for the two of you. Sirius wasn’t convinced.

“Uh huh…and what’s that exam on again?” He smirked, looking you up and down as you gulped under his glare, “Anatomy?”

Dorcas choked on a laugh, dribbling juice in the process while the others muffled their amusement with their hands. James bit his lip, wincing at the realisation that he had been far too obvious with his intimate affection.

He turned back to you, seeing the bright red hue of your face and the embarrassed downturn of your head. He threw his arm around your middle in confident comfort. Your eyes were glued to a single berry on the edge of your plate.

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Your friends had released a long series of sounds of amusement, cheering in celebration at their recent discovery. “With the way James talks about you, love, I’m surprised he didn’t jump you on the first date!” Sirius cackled, causing James to crack a sympathetic smile in your direction before nuzzling into your neck once again.

“I think this makes us the most experienced group in the school now that you two lovesick dogs, have…you know…” Lily trailed off, “Wait, we are talking about these two losing their v-“

“Obviously!”

James had fully phased out the conversation, getting intoxicated on your scent as his held you close with eyes closed in satisfaction. You were warming up to the conversation now, brushing James’ mess of hair away from his mouth as you giggled at the excitement that erupted from your section of the table.

“So,” Sirius continued, leaning over to you with an obnoxiously loud whisper, “is Prongs good in bed?”

“Yes.”

“Sirius,” James whined, sitting up in the process, “don’t push her- wait, what did you say?” He spun around to face you with wide eyes as you smirked back at him. You were already knee deep in this conversation, it couldn’t hurt to boost your boyfriend’s ego and satisfy his recently discovered lust for praise.

“He’s amazing, in fact…boys, why don’t you go on another secret trip to Hogsmeade tonight? I’m sure you’ve already run out of chocolate, and James could probably do with a room to himself…” you teased in the direction of the remaining Marauders before spotting James’ glossy eyes and parted lips in your peripheral.

He clung tighter to your middle as Peter gazed at you with a confused frown. “But we went yesterday, we still have a lot of-“ he glanced at the others, all adorning knowing smirks. “Ohhhh…yeah, yeah we can do that.”

James turned to Peter with a bashful smile, mouthing a thank you that made the group burst out laughing once again.

Finally remembering their breakfast, your companions returned to cleaning their plates as James continued consuming his, kissing you along your jaw and resisting the urge to line you up on the table then and there. He bit into his peach suggestively, batting his lashes at you.

“No more PDA at the table, Jamie.”

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

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fear-is-truth · 1 month ago

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contains. . . established relationship, fluff. post thunderbolts + no spoilers. BOB REYNOLDS x gn!reader

you come up behind him, soft-footed, not bothering to announce yourself. bob is hunched over the stove, shoulders drawn inward with the sheer concentration of a man defusing a bomb. there’s a low, steady hiss of butter bubbling in the pan, occasionally punctuated by the sound of the spatula scraping across the skillet.

“grilled cheese?” you ask hopefully, peering past his arm for a better look. “yeah. sorry it’s not—i know it’s basic.” he presses down lightly with the spatula and watches the cheese drag out further, half-melted and sagging. when he decides it’s done, he carefully plates both sandwiches, then slices them clean on the diagonal. the knife presses through with a soft crunch, the cheese stretching in slow, reluctant strands. your mouth waters.

he slides yours across the table with a nudge, before sitting down opposite you—shoulders square, no eye contact. his leg bumps the underside of the table and he mutters a quiet “sorry,” staring down at his own plate like he’s hoping it’ll start the conversation.

you reach for the sandwich. the crust is warm, just shy of too hot, and the corners are curled in slightly, singed to a crisp. molten cheese oozing out the sides in thick orange ribbons, one edge blistered into a lacy crackle.

you bite in.

the crunch is immediate—golden crust flaking apart beneath your lips. the inside’s a flood of viscous, unevenly melted cheese, coating your tongue in salt and butterfat. there’s this nutty undertone where the cheese hit the pan and crisped, like the edge of a lasagna pan, and it sticks to your molars. your eyes flutter shut, unbidden. a soft groan slips out. bob freezes, his own sandwich halfway to his mouth. he stares at you like a deer in headlights.

“bad?”

you swallow. lick your bottom lip and say, “bob, this is orgasmic.” the tips of his ears go pink instantly. he fumbles for his water glass and gulps half of it.

“thought you hated cooking,”

“i don’t hate it,” he says, still not quite meeting your gaze as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand. “i just… don’t always have the energy. or the appetite.” he lifts one shoulder, gestures vaguely at his plate. “but grilled cheese is manageable. just bread and cheese.”

you go in for a second bite. some of the cheese drips onto your thumb and you lick it off absently.

“sure. and the mona lisa is just paint on canvas.”

when the plate’s empty, you lean back and sigh.

“you’re going to have to keep doing that, y’know”

“making you lunch?”

“blowing my mind.”

and there it is—that little twitch of a smile again. he straightens in his chair.

“okay.”

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srslyblvck · 7 months ago

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── secret santa,, james potter [part one]

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

synopsis: in which you become the secret santa of none other than james potter

genre: fluff

warnings: none

author's note: ik it isn't even december, oh well, i couldn't help myself :)

word count: 1.1k

part two!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ SNOW FLUTTERED GENTLY AGAINST the tall, frosted windows of the Gryffindor common room, casting a soft glow over the cosy space. The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, and the air buzzed with anticipation as the Gryffindor gang gathered in a circle on the floor, laughing and sipping on mugs of cocoa.

Sirius, always the self-appointed leader of mischief, stood atop one of the squishy armchairs like he was addressing a crowd of thousands. His dark hair flopped dramatically as he gestured toward the large bowl of folded parchment in his hands.

“Lend me your ears!” Sirius announced with flair. “It is time for the greatest, most legendary Gryffindor tradition—our annual Secret Santa! The only thing that rivals this sacred event is when James hexed Snivellus’—”

“Sirius!” Lily interrupted, fixing him with a sharp glare, though the corners of her mouth twitched in amusement. “If you could manage to keep it PG, that’d be great.”

Sirius sighed dramatically, holding a hand to his chest. “Evans, your lack of faith wounds me. I’m a model of propriety.”

Remus snorted softly from his seat on the arm of the couch. “Sure you are.”

“Can we please get on with it before Sirius bursts into a sonnet about himself?” James chimed in, sprawled out on the floor with his hands behind his head. His untamable hair stuck out in every direction, and his glasses were slightly askew. He was grinning, the kind of grin that could light up an entire room.

“You’re just eager because you’re convinced you’ll get Evans again,” Marlene teased, leaning over to flick James on the shoulder.

James shot her a mock-wounded look. “For your information, I have no such hopes. My heart will graciously accept any gift—except socks. Sirius.”

Sirius gasped. “I would never.”

“You absolutely would,” Dorcas piped up with a smirk, earning a round of laughter from the group.

“Alright, alright!” Sirius cut in, gesturing dramatically toward the bowl in his hands. “The rules are simple: pick a name, don’t tell anyone who you’ve got, and if your gift sucks, prepare to be ruthlessly mocked.”

“Sounds fair,” Peter muttered as he scratched his nose.

One by one, the group leaned forward to pluck a slip of parchment from the bowl. You waited until your turn, your fingers brushing against the cool paper as you grabbed a folded chit. Your heart skipped a beat as you unfolded it and saw the name:

James Potter.

Your eyes instinctively darted toward him. James was mid-laugh, probably at some ridiculous quip Sirius had made, and there was a mischievous sparkle in his hazel eyes. You quickly looked away before anyone could notice the heat rising to your cheeks.

Of all the names you could’ve drawn, it had to be James.

From the moment names were drawn, the common room became a hotbed of shenanigans.

“Oi, love,” James said casually the next evening as you sat near the fire, working on your Potions essay. “You can just tell me who you’ve got, you know. Save yourself the stress.”

You didn’t even look up from your parchment. “Nice try, Potter. Not happening.”

He leaned back in his chair, clutching his chest dramatically. “You wound me! After everything we’ve been through?”

“I’m doing you a favour,” you said with a smirk, finally glancing up. “Imagine the disappointment if I told you someone else got you and not your precious Evans.”

His grin widened, and there was a playful glint in his eyes. “Who says I want Evans?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve only been after her for, what, three years?”

James shrugged, leaning forward on his elbows. “Maybe I’ve had a change of heart. Maybe there’s someone else who’s caught my eye.”

Your cheeks burned, and you quickly ducked your head to pretend you were reading your essay. “Well, whoever they are, I’m sure they pity you.”

He threw his head back with a laugh, and your stomach did an annoying little flip. Merlin, he was impossible.

The chaos only deepened as Christmas approached. James became increasingly annoying in his quest to figure out his Secret Santa, trying to weasel answers out of everyone.

“Wormtail, it’s you, isn’t it?”

“What? No!” Peter said, flustered, clutching his Charms textbook.

“It’s Moony, then,” James decided, turning to Remus.

“I’m not saying anything,” Remus said calmly, flipping a page in his book. “But if you keep pestering me, I’ll make sure whoever has you gets you socks.”

“Traitors, all of you,” James declared, throwing himself onto the couch in defeat.

“I heard Sirius in Honeydukes the other day asking the shopkeeper if they could make a giant chocolate wolf. Like, life-sized.” Marlene whispered, her eyes wide with glee.

You clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle your laugh. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I were,” Marlene said, grinning. “The poor clerk looked like they didn’t know whether to laugh or run.”

“Are you two gossiping about me?” Sirius asked, turning to narrow his eyes at you and Marlene.

“Always,” Marlene quipped, not missing a beat.

Sirius looked pleased. “As you should.”

You spent hours agonising over James’ gift. He was impossible to shop for—he had everything he needed, and he didn’t seem the type to care much about material things. But you wanted it to be special, something that would show you’d noticed the little things about him.

Finally, inspiration struck.

You bought him a small, leather-bound notebook, the kind with a soft cover and faint golden stars embossed on the front. James was always scribbling something—Quidditch plays, spell ideas, random doodles. It seemed like the perfect fit.

Inside the front cover, you wrote:

For all your brilliant (and slightly ridiculous) ideas. - ♡

You also found a tiny enchanted Snitch pin at a shop in Hogsmeade. It was gold and delicate, and its tiny wings occasionally fluttered when touched. You figured it was subtle enough to wear but still a nod to his love for Quidditch.

The common room glowed with the warmth of fairy lights strung around the tree, and the group had gathered again, this time with a pile of wrapped gifts beneath the branches. Sirius had, naturally, donned a Santa hat and was gleefully handing out presents.

When it was James’ turn, he tore into the wrapping paper with childlike enthusiasm, his grin widening as he pulled out the notebook and pin.

“This is…” He trailed off, turning the notebook over in his hands. His hazel eyes softened as he read the note inside, and a small, genuine smile played on his lips. “This is brilliant.”

He held up the pin, letting it catch the light, and glanced around the room. “Whoever got me this, you’ve officially got better taste than Sirius.”

“Oi!” Sirius protested, though he was laughing.

James’ gaze flickered to you for a brief moment, and your heart stuttered. Did he know? The way his smile lingered made you wonder, but you quickly looked away, your cheeks warm.

For now, you were content with the way his smile lit up the room.

#divider by fairytopea #marauders #marauders era #marauders fanfic #marauders fanfiction #james potter #james fleamont potter #james potter fanfiction #james potter imagine #james potter fluff #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #lily evans

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evanchantingpeters · 2 years ago

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All my feminism goes out the window when I lay eyes on this man... Uff😬

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natti-ice · 1 year ago

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Being comforted on your period.

cw: menstrual cramps, just periods in general

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

Your lower belly has been spasming all day and it’s made you so miserable, it feels like your body is trying to fight itself as you toss and turn on the couch desperate to get comfortable. When he walks into the room and sees you laying there in pain his heart begins to ache, he knew how bad it got every month and it killed him. If he could take away your pain he would do it in a heart beat, but unfortunately he cannot, so he has to settle for the next best thing. He immediately goes to get the heating pad, when he comes back he doesn’t say a word he just plugs in the heating pad and puts it on the setting you like. He kneels down beside you and says softly “lift up your shirt for me, baby.” You give him a soft appreciative smile and lift your shirt, you let out a soft relieved sigh as you feel the warmth on your skin. You were so grateful to have a man who truly cared for you.

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fourmoony · 2 years ago

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𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬

remus lupin x f!reader

smut. p in v. creampie. unprotected sex. fingering. sex with a friend. language. 18+ content minors DNI.

3.2k - masterlist

summary - reader can't sleep. remus helps out. not with warm milk, though.

i'm supposed to be working on an assignment for college. but remus lupin is taking up space in my brain. so, enjoy :)

The air feels stuffy, too hot against your slick skin.

You blow a breath out in frustration, a piece of hair stuck to your forehead refusing to budge and you groan. The house is silent apart from the droning on of the electronic device between your legs that does little to abate the feeling clawing at your insides and it only makes you more frustrated. The lights in your bedroom are turned off, the world outside asleep. Everyone apart from you. You’ve spent two hours tossing and turning, and a further half hour trying to cure the ache between your legs.

It’s futile. You’ve tried everything. Every speed your overly expensive vibrator has to offer, every position, you even got out the glittery pink dildo Marlene got you for Secret Santa the previous year, leaving it out to the side after coming to the heart-breaking decision that it simply wasn’t big enough.

You feel like nothing will be big enough. Nothing feels right, nothing feels good enough, nothing is even close to tipping you over the edge. You shift, further to the left, and whine again, pressing the vibrator to a higher speed. It moves as you press the button, and the feeling of closeness is gone just like that. You growl, pushing the blankets off in a fit of rage and choose to stare at the ceiling in defeat. It’s not going to happen. You should just accept that. But you’re worked up, horny, and too fucking clammy.

The flat is quiet. Remus is asleep – the only reason you’re so nonchalant about the noise of your vibrator still buzzing against the mattress next to you, taunting you. You reach to turn it off, sitting up and putting your hair into a makeshift bun. You stare with narrowed eyes at the shadowed outline of the sparkly pink atrocity of a Secret Santa gift. It was given as a joke to make you blush. Your friends like to tease you for your innocence. It’s not something you ever would have bought for yourself. You’d blushed furiously and everyone laughed. It was addictive for the first few weeks, being able to explore your own pleasure. But now. Now, it doesn’t feel enough. Doesn’t feel as good. As big. As filling.

It’s a quick thought, a fleeting thought. A memory that makes your cheeks flush and your eyes close in embarrassment. Remus, fresh out of the shower, two seconds away from closing the towel around his waist. He hadn’t locked the door. It was an accident. You hadn’t meant to walk in on him. You’d been half asleep, bursting for a pee, and he hadn’t locked the door. Even worse, you hadn’t meant to look. But he was wide eyed and frozen, and your fight or flight had you trying to assess every part of the situation. And his nakedness was a large part of the situation.

You’re not proud of it. But you’d looked. And you liked what you saw.

And now.

Well, now, you can’t stop thinking about it. About Remus. Kind Remus who makes you tea on cold mornings, puts your pyjamas in the dryer for you when you get out of the shower, who cooks you dinner and leaves it in the oven when you work the late shift at the café down the road. He’s kind and attentive and always there to lend a helping hand. You feel silly as you clamber off your bed, knowing there’s a high likelihood that Remus will tell you you’ve taken his kindness to its boundaries.

Your feet pad quietly down the hallway of your shared flat. The under counter lights in the open plan kitchen at the end of the hall illuminate the space enough to see. Remus’ door is closed, but you twist the handle and push, wincing when it lets out an annoying squeal. Remus rouses at the sound, squinting sleepily at you as he turns. He lets out a breath, sits up on his elbow and pulls back his blanket to offer you the space beside him.

It’s not the first time you’ve climbed into bed with Remus, but you still shift nervously on your feet, biting at your lip.

“You okay, love?” Remus asks, voice deep and croaky.

It makes you flustered in your reply. Voice quiet, unsure, “Can’t sleep.”

Remus nods, reiterates pulling back the blanket to make room for you. You cross one leg over the other in front of you, fiddling with the metal daisy chain ring on your middle finger. Remus got you it when you got into university last year. It’s your favourite piece of jewellery you own, overpriced tennis bracelet from your overcompensating parents be damned. He catches your nervous tic and his eyes narrow, his head tilts, messy hair flopping sideways with the movement. There’s a slight stubble on his chin from running late this morning and skipping his daily shave and he’s sans pyjama top, having clearly also felt the heat.

He sits up fully and the blanket pools around his waist. His skin glows in the low light of the moon through the window beside his bed. He’s beautiful. This you’ve always known. Now, it’s tenfold because you’ve seen all of him. And all of him is what you want, in this moment. Your face is flames as you edge closer until you’re hovering beside his bed.

“Have you tried warm milk?” Remus asks, his voice almost teasing.

“Don’t want warm milk.” You pout.

There’s something about the way he’s looking at you, trying to sus you out. He knows. He must know something. You’re hardly being subtle. Remus’ lips twitch in a smile when you squeeze your legs together in front of you, again, lip between your teeth, eyes watery.

“What do you want?” He asks, voice breathy.

He wants you to say it. But you can’t. You won’t.

“Rem, please,” You whine, “I’ve tried everything.”

His hand reaches for yours, pulls you until you’re straddling him. His lips are a centimetre from yours, hot breath fanning out over your mouth. You press down hard against him, lips pouted. He doesn’t let up, just raises his eyebrows. A question. What have you tried?

“I couldn’t get the angle right with my vibrator,” You whisper, cheeks bright red and warm to the touch, where Remus’ thumb is gently rubbing back and forth, fingers cupping your wobbling jaw, “Then the thingy Marlene got me wasn’t-“ You huff.

Remus chuckles softly, endearingly.

“It wasn’t enough.”

Remus smiles, “You want my help?”

You nod eagerly, “Please, Rem.”

He’s on you in a second. Lips and tongue and teeth, so hot and heavy it knocks the breath from you. His hands fist the thin material of your shorts, at your waist and you bend into him, hands running up his sides, over his shoulders, into the hair at the nape of his neck. He’s hard beneath the flannel of his pyjama bottoms. You can feel it against the crease of your thigh. It makes you whine into his mouth, shifting until you’re perfectly aligned over him. His grip focusses on your arse cheeks when you grind down, a bruising grip that you relish in.

His hands push you forward, you pull yourself back. His lips leave yours, trailing along your jaw, down your neck. Your head tilts back, panting for breath, lost in the pleasure. Your stomach tightens the harder his grip gets, the harder you press down, the faster you move. You feel like a seedy teenager, dry humping yourself against him. Remus’ teeth nip at your collarbone, only to soothe over it with his tongue. You whine again, making your impatience known, but Remus doesn’t speed up.

He looks up, lips mouthing at the underside of your chin until you tilt your head back up to look at him. His pupils are blown, eyes hooded, lips curved into a sinful smirk.

“So needy.” He mumbles into your lips.

You push down harder in response. Remus grabs your hips, stills you. You pout, doe eyes watery. Remus tuts, shakes his head, “You want my help, we do it my way.”

He shifts until you’re lying beneath him, legs hiked up around his waist. He doesn’t waste time in stripping you. Your shirt, then your shorts, your panties following. He throws them across the room, and they fall into the shadows of his darkened room. You’re glad they’re gone. Your body feels like it’s burning up under his touch, featherlight as he traces the goosebumps across your skin. He presses kisses in the wake of his fingertips, to your collarbones, your chest, the tops of your breasts, your stomach, navel.

His lips are warm, wet, pressing kisses to the insides of your thighs. You’re high strung, keening, and needy. He comes back to face level, and you grumble, deep in your throat. So close. He was so close to where you need him. He’s smug. You’re about to protest when he slides a finger into you. Your mouth opens, head pushing back into the pillow. His fingers are long, but slender, and it’s not long before he adds another. Your back arches, eyes closing. The minute you close your eyes, Remus stops. You look up, furious, to find him smirking something evil down at you.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl.” He whispers, nose bumping yours.

You comply. Remus resumes, fingers pumping steadily in and out. When he’s knuckle deep, he curls them and your body jerks in response. It’s too much and not enough, a dizzying euphoria of Remus’ casual confidence and his skilful fingers. His thumb brushes your clit gently, the bundle of nerves swollen and begging for attention. You moan his name, thighs squeezing against his hips where they’re splayed open. It urges him on, he whispers quiet encouragements – good girl, that’s it sweetheart, you’re so wet for me – and you continue to writhe beneath him.

“Rem,” You gasp, hand encircling the wrist that’s pumping in and out of you, “Need you.”

“Soon,” He promises softly, lips pressing to the swell of your breast, teeth lightly nipping at the skin there, “Want you to come on my fingers first.”

His thumb moves in tighter circles, his fingers curl deeper, move faster. He adds a third, the stretch burns but in the best way. Your jaw opens on its own accord, a string of moans emitting from your throat, and you arch into Remus. His eyes meet yours, blazing with lust.

“C’mon, baby,” He urges, voice sinfully deep, demanding. “Come for me.”

You clench around his fingers, and he groans as you gush around his hand, voice high pitched, your grip on his shoulders vice like. He’s surprised you don’t snap in two with how high your back arches. His fingers pump you through the rush in your veins, his quiet reassurances blacked out by the sound of blood rushing to your ears. Your head spins and you see white as the orgasm you’ve been chasing for what must be hours by now crashes over you. You babble nonsense, buck against Remus’ fingers, mouth open, eyes wide, back arched and head pushed violently into the pillow beneath you.

Remus hovers over you when your breathing evens, eye’s a little less clouded, and his usual concerned look on his face. You smile dopily up at him, eyes bright.

“Good?” He asks.

It’s a double ended question – you good? Was that good?

You nod.

“More.” You whine, attempting to pull him closer with your legs around his waist.

“You’re insatiable.” He laughs lightly, head bending down to peck your smiling lips gently.

You nod in agreement, head tilted as you look up at him, “I’m blaming you.”

“Of course.” Remus nods, placating you.

He shimmies his pyjamas off, kicks them off the end of the bed, and comes back to crowd your space, again. Hard, he’s much bigger than you saw from Shower-Gate. Your mouth waters as his hand wraps around his dick, pumping a few times before looking back to you. His face softens when he notices your lip trapped between your teeth.

“Baby?” He questions and you soften.

“That’s,” You sigh, embarrassed, “That’s not going to fit, Rem.”

Remus laughs, the apples of his cheeks rounding out, his teeth appearing from behind his lips. His head hangs over your shoulder and you hide in his hair, mortified. The hand that isn’t supporting his weight runs softly up and down your thigh. You groan to show your mortification, heels digging into Remus’ tail bone to try kill his laughter.

“Rem,” You protest, letting a chuckle of your own slip.

Remus looks up, eyes soft, lips pressed together to stop his laughter, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, pretty girl. I’m not laughing at you. No one’s ever said that before, you just caught me by surprise.”

You giggle, squeezing his waist with your thighs, “They’ve definitely thought it.”

Remus shakes his head, “We don’t have to.”

It’s your turn to shake your head, “I want to. I really want to.”

He smiles, leans in to kiss you. When he pulls away to pump himself again, you let out a low breath. He brushes the tip against your folds, wet and puffy, a couple times before he pushes in slowly. He groans, you moan. You’re tight, fitting around him like perfection. He goes slow until he’s buried to the hilt. You allow yourself to get used to the feeling, whimpering softly when his thumb comes to circle your clit again, working you up.

“That’s it, baby,” He speaks softly, so softly, and you moan.

He pulls back, pushes back in. Takes it slow. Allows you to adjust.

But it’s not enough. You need more. You need the raw pent-up aggression you’ve seen Remus show pervs at bars when they touch you inappropriately. You need angry Remus, who threw a book at the mantle place when your parents missed another birthday. You need the Remus who tries so hard to hide the aggressive side of him but can never fully rid himself of his primal urges, of that white hot fury and determination.

“More,” You breathe, “Faster. Harder. I need more, Rem. Please.”

You’re babbling, begging. But Remus complies. He snaps his hips forward and you all but scream. He groans, breath hot and heavy against your neck. He’s attentive, hips attacking your pelvis. His wooden headboard slams against the wall, your hand reaching up to hold on and stop you from sliding further up the bed. An arm wraps around your waist, pulling you up, closer to him. He feels deeper at the new angle, hips battering into yours. He’s relentless, hitting every spot you need.

You’re babbling nonsense, but so is Remus. Words of encouragement, words that tell you how good you’re taking all of him, how tight you are, how perfect you are. You’re meeting his every thrust, hips grinding against him, the stubble creating friction that tightens the coil in your stomach.

Remus attaches his lips to your shoulder, biting down as he pounds harder against you. You say his name like a mantra, unable to think of anything other than the feeling of him, all over, everywhere, filling, stretching, pounding.

“Rem,” You whine – so close. So, so close – “Come in me.”

Remus’ head snaps up, pupils blown, mouth hung open. He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t falter, “What?”

“Pill. Just,” You gasp when he hits that spot, “Come in me. Please. Wanna feel it.”

Remus moans. Dirty and deep. He fucking moans.

He’s relentless, sweat dripping from his forehead, he releases your waist, hikes your thigh up over his shoulder, you scream. He urges you, tells you sweet things, details how he’s going to fill you up, bites the skin of your calf. His other hand reaches down, draws tight circles that have you seeing stars. You scream his name, loud enough for the entire street to hear, using the leverage on his shoulder to lift your lower back off the bed.

The feeling is dizzying, all consuming. It’s feverish, frantic, a wild chase to the end.

You clench, he hits the right spot, the sting of his teeth on your calf emulates up your leg, the stomach muscles holding you up clench, and he calls you baby, all at the right time. You see white. It feels like your entire body explodes, lights on fire, crashes and burns. You convulse, twitching and screaming, broken words and moans of his names, clenched vice-like around him.

You’re begging. Begging him to follow, to finish in you, even in your pleasure.

You’re still floating, but coherent enough, when Remus grows sloppy, uncoordinated, drops your leg from his shoulder, falls forward, hands at your sides to hold himself up. He jerks, groans, his head falls into your shoulder, and you whine, happily, dopily, when you feel the white-hot spurts of his come against your walls.

He’s breathing heavily, both your bodies slicked with sweat. He drops his weight onto you, and you welcome him happily. Your legs wrap around his lower back, you both wince with the movement. You can feel the slickness between you both, the way he’s dripping out of you. But you’re comfortable, lips pressed to his damp hair. You trace shapes on his back until he comes to, pushing up to press his lips to yours.

The clock on his nightstand reads four in the morning.

He gets up to leave and you whine, “Don’t go.”

Remus chuckles, “Just going to get a warm cloth. Be back.”

You allow him that, grateful he had the idea. You hear him running the tap in the bathroom and he returns with a warm cloth. He’s gentle when he wipes you clear. You wince and flinch, blushing when Remus presses gentle kisses to your thighs as he works. He whispers softly between kisses how pretty you are, how well you did.

He discards the cloth in the wash basket by his door and returns to the bed.

He groans as he settles, holding his arm out for you to fall into him. You do so, swinging a leg over his thighs. It’s then that you realise you’re both still very naked, and your shyness returns. Remus traces shapes on your arm, tucking his head over yours, lips to the crown of your head.

“I can hear your cute little brain running laps, you know.” Remus teases.

You roll your eyes, push your face further into his neck.

“I just came to you in the middle of the night for sex,” the post coital dread sets in tenfold, despite feeling the most relaxed you’ve felt in weeks, “I’m so sorry, Remus.”

You feel Remus shrug, “Don’t fret, sweetheart. I was more than happy to oblige.”

“But-“

“Get some rest, honey. We can talk more tomorrow.” He assures you, pulling the blanket further up your naked bodies.

You concede, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw, the stubble tickling your lips, “Okay.”

He pulls you closer, settles in. You allow sleep to wash over you, let the relaxation in your bones pull you under. It’s a dreamless sleep, a comfortable sleep, wrapped in Remus’ arms.

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uramakimochi · 1 year ago

Note

Milf reader tucking 5 year old Harry back to bed: I gotta go back to sleep before your father realizes I'm not in bed..

James, rubbing his eyes while looking around: (Y/n)?

James, tearing up: (Y/N)?!?!

Harry: ...I thought I'm child of the house-

Harry sweetheart you're the child, but James is the baby.

Sirius: So, how's motherhood treating you?

Y/n: Fine, i just didn't expect this much crying though.

Remus: Don't worry, it's normal for babies.

Y/n: Oh no, Harry is fine. I was talking about James.

James, crying while watching Harry in his crib: I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!

MILF!POTTER!READER SERIE:

previous / next

(the fact that i absolutely love writing for dilf!James + Harry but my favorite marauder is actually Remus, it's your fault y'all🫵)

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vampbloodbunny2 · 6 months ago

Text

Remus: you really put aside everything and came all this way to save me? how did you even get here?

James: several traffic violations

Peter: three counts of resisting arrest

Sirius: roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks

James: also, that's not our car

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starksweasley · 6 months ago

Text

Gravity // Remus Lupin

Summary: In which Remus is jealous (slight angst, fluff)

Word Count: 1243

The Gryffindor common room buzzed with laughter and the mellow warmth of firewhiskey. James had one arm slung around Sirius’s shoulders and the other around yours, his messy black hair flopping into his face as he laughed uncontrollably at one of Sirius’s jokes. Across from you, Lily’s green eyes sparkled as she leaned forward, recounting a tale from Potions class, while Peter, perched on the armrest of a chair, blushed at her playful teasing.

You caught Remus’s eyes from across the room. He was reclined in his usual spot, legs stretched out, a soft smile playing on his lips. But there was something else in his gaze—something that burned brighter than the fire crackling in the hearth. That look wasn’t for the group. It was for you, only you. For months now, those glances had spoken louder than words. They’d said everything he tried so hard to deny.

It was a dangerous game, the one you played with him. Secret meetings, whispered promises, kisses that left you breathless and aching for more—and then the inevitable, his anguished voice pulling you back to reality. “We can’t do this,” he’d say, guilt clouding his honey-colored eyes. “I can’t risk hurting you.” Yet here you were, caught in a relentless cycle, tethered to him by something neither of you could control.

Lily’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “So,” she began, her tone light and teasing, “that Slytherin boy in Potions—what’s his name again? Avery? He’s been staring at you like you’re Amortentia. Are you going to say yes if he asks you out?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Not a chance. I’d rather kiss the Giant Squid.”

James let out a loud guffaw, and Sirius raised his glass in mock salute. “Good taste, love. That Slytherin’s a jerk.”

But your laughter caught in your throat when you saw Remus. His jaw clenched, his knuckles white against the arm of the couch. He quickly averted his gaze, staring into the flames as though they might temper the storm brewing inside him. You’d seen this look before. The quiet possessiveness he tried to hide. It sent your heart racing.

Eventually, the group began to drift apart. James slung an arm around Sirius as they stumbled toward the boys’ dormitory, still laughing. Lily bade you goodnight with a knowing smile, and Peter yawned his way upstairs. Left alone, you lingered for a moment, watching the embers glow. Then, with a sigh, you headed toward your dormitory. Or at least, that was the plan.

The castle was quiet as you wandered the corridors, the cool air brushing your skin like a whisper of the night. You’d detoured for a glass of water, your footsteps echoing softly against the ancient stone walls. But as you turned a corner, a hand caught your wrist and yanked you into the shadows with a force that sent your heart racing. Your back hit the wall, the cool stone biting through your jumper, and before you could react, his lips were on yours.

“Remus,” you gasped against his mouth, the word barely audible, lost in the intensity of his kiss. His hands found your waist, strong and unyielding, fingers digging into your hips as though he needed to anchor himself to you. His kiss was searing, desperate—like he was pouring every unspoken word, every buried feeling, into this moment. His teeth grazed your lower lip, a low growl escaping his throat, and your knees nearly gave way beneath you. Possessive. Wild. Devastating.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes locked onto yours, ablaze with a fire that made your breath hitch. His chest heaved with the effort of restraint, and yet his hands stayed firm on your waist, refusing to let you go. For a heartbeat, neither of you spoke, the silence between you crackling with unspoken desire and frustration. The world outside seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you in this charged, stolen moment.

“What the hell, Remus?” you whispered, your voice trembling but your tone firm. “What’s this about?”

“Do you think I didn’t notice?” he growled, his voice low and rough. “That prat in Potions looking at you like you’re something he could just… have?” His fingers tightened on your waist, nails digging into your skin. “You’re mine.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, but you rolled your eyes, though your cheeks burned. “Oh, really?” you hissed. “You’re allowed to act like this, but then you tell me we can’t be together? Stop telling me we can’t do this and then pulling shit like this, Remus!”

He exhaled sharply, stepping back and running a hand through his hair, his fingers tugging at the roots as if trying to wrangle his thoughts into submission. His eyes darted away for a moment, but they quickly returned to you, filled with a vulnerability that made your chest ache. “I’m a big, stupid idiot,” he muttered, his voice breaking slightly. “I know I am. But I can’t stay away from you. And I… I can’t stop thinking about what might happen if I hurt you.” His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his fears.

Your resolve softened, the tension in your shoulders easing, but you refused to let him off the hook so easily. “You’re not going to hurt me,” you said, stepping closer, your voice steady despite the rapid thrum of your heart. Your hands brushed against his, daring to close the distance. “But you can’t keep breaking my heart like this, Remus. Either we’re together, or we’re not. No more in-between.”

His gaze locked onto yours, searching, pleading, his expression torn between hope and fear. He opened his mouth as if to speak but hesitated, his throat working against the words. Finally, he exhaled, his shoulders slumping. “I want to be with you,” he admitted, his voice so quiet it was nearly lost to the silence. “Even if it scares me. Even if it’s selfish and stupid. I want you. Only you.”

The confession sent a rush of warmth through you, your heart swelling until it felt too big for your chest. Slowly, deliberately, you reached up and cupped his face, marveling at how beautiful he looked in the dim light. His features were alight, the sharp planes of his cheekbones softened by the look in his eyes, those molten gold irises that held the weight of a thousand secrets and a million promises. Your thumbs brushed against the rough stubble on his jaw, the texture grounding you in the reality of this moment. He leaned into your touch instinctively, his eyes fluttering shut for a fleeting moment as if savoring every ounce of your presence. You pulled him into a kiss that was softer, deeper this time, a perfect blend of passion and quiet devotion that made your knees weak. His arms came around you, enveloping you completely, holding you as though the world might shatter and steal you away if he let go for even a second.

When you broke apart, you rested your forehead against his, your breaths mingling haphazardly. “Good,” you finally murmured. “Because I’m not letting you go, Remus Lupin.”

A faint smile curved his lips, and for the first time that night, his eyes shone with certainty. “I think I could get used to that,” he said, his voice warm and steady. And in that moment, it felt like you’d finally broken the cycle.

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