#james’ reaction is the best
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i am literally james cracking up at patrick’s parachute failing to open
#patrick brown#james willems#jacob fullerton#lindsey washburn#funhaus#this part made me laugh so hard#poor patty#FUCKING PULL IT!#i have replayed this moment so many times#james’ reaction is the best#i just love how he can’t stop laughing#i love these dorks so much#rooster teeth#video#text post
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Watership Down graphic novel reaction/icon images: PART I
#watership down#reaction image#best images#hazel#fiver#the black rabbit of inle#strawberry#dandelion#clover#haystack#laurel#boxwood#cowslip#graphic novel#richard adams#james sturm#joe sutphin
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As it's the final, we always come up with a profound and challenging prize category, so we've asked them to bring in their most magnificent stationery.
#taskmaster#kerry godliman#greg davies#james acaster#jessica knappett#s7#one of the best prize task moments#james' and jess' reactions are almost as good as kerry's and greg's#m
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I did not know how much I needed this in my life.
I mean, I didn't know how much I needed all of the gifs taken from The Reynolds Pamphlet. I cannot get enough of the look of regret and despair on Lin-Manuel Miranda's face as he stands in the middle of his political career's farewell party. But I expect to see that. What I did NOT expect to see was his son crawl under Thomas Jefferson's legs, pop up like a gopher , and begin to examine the pamphlet as if it's a letter from a lover off at war who you haven't heard from in months.
#and everyones reactions to it are just priceless#😯#the reynolds pamphlet#i take back everything ive ever said about philip hamilton or anthony ramos#hes the best#hes perfect#gopher boi#i want to give him headpat#he💜#philip hamilton#hamilton musical#hamilton#hamilton the musical#gif#i love this#lets tag#thomas jefferson hamilton#james madison#and#aaron burr#while we're at it#just because#theyre an important part of this too#i feel
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Michael on the Late Late Show a few years ago talking about how he was almost in a production of Hedwig and the Angry Inch and I cannot overstate how much I wish this had actually happened...
(Bonus: Completely unintentional reference to the beginning of episode 3 of The Way at the end by James Corden, along with Michael's reaction. The noise I made...)
#michael sheen#welsh seduction machine#the late late show#hedwig and the angry inch#iconic#someone please let him be a drag queen already#bless his bisexual Welsh chaos#genderfuck!Michael Sheen is the best Michael Sheen#sometimes i think about the fact that Michael has played so many queer roles#and how they all represent different parts of him#i think about that a lot#also his reaction to what James says at the end is killing me#coincidence? foreshadowing?#both is good.gif#amazing
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what are your opinions on louis x aasim?
i dont ship it personally but its fine i have nothing against it. i think its cute that (supposedly. dont ask me for a source but maybe someone else has it) apparently aasim was gonna have embarrassing shit about louis in his journal but it was cut lol. aasim youll always be bi to me in my heart i know its true
i have no reason to split him from ruby tho like theyre fine too so shrugs. the idea of aasim having a crush on louis before clem shows up i can appreciate at least. adds a little Flavor. aasim having an unresolved crush on him i think is a fun addition to their dynamic. definitely see aasim as the sort who would see louis do something goofy or obnoxious and being like "i cant believe i have a crush on you this is so embarrassing for me 😑"
#the way louis flirts and his laugh (and violets glare and his apology) about clem flipping ruby just makes him come off as so straight to me#i know he was lauging at the idea of the proposition but the added bit w violets reaction is so “not that theres anything wrong with that”#which gets a laugh out of me#lesbian and well meaning straight bro best friend is something that can be so personal#i understand why people ship him with aasim and marlon and even james tho#im just not a huge Shipper. i need 2 characters to deeply care for each other and positively impact each other for me to want to ship them#i am indifferent to canon pairings too unless they can prove to me these characters are better together than apart#and like being together Romantically too a lot of the time being friends will suffice. i take romance very seriously#otherwise im just like.... ok sure#also rip to the amount of lousim in the violentine tag using clemvi as a B pairing 😔 i had to exclude them from the search#replies with lexi#incognito#twdg
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Writing anything in the origins comic time is a pain because NOBODY KNOWS HOW OLD ROSE IS
#out ;; jay says stuff#also can i say smitty deserved better#he found his wife dead and his first reaction was wanting to make sure logan was okay#no wonder she fell for him#BUT SERIOUSLY#rose was said to have been hired to take care of baby james#and when she and smitty get married smitty reportedlt considered james/logan like a son#but ALSO rose was called in canon childhood best friends with dog and james#and they're all drawn about the same age and shown playing the same games#and rose even wrote in her own journal that dog and James were her FRIENDS#WHAT IS THE TRUTH#Is she his older babysitter#or his same age friend#that VERY MUCH CHANGES HOW I WRITE THEIR DIALOGUE#Anyway i'm yelling about rose ohara avain what else is new.
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Watership Down graphic novel reaction/icon images: PART II
#Nelthilta#Hyzenthlay#Hazel#Bigwig#Pipkin#Bluebell#Blackberry#the black rabbit of inle#elilhrairrah#homba#marjoram#captain chervil#blackavar#kehaar#thethuthinang#strawberry#dandelion#hawkbit#captain holly#clover#laurel#boxwood#haystack#vilthuril#watership down#reaction image#best images#richard adams#james sturm#joe sutphin
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The demon is just watching her, silently admiring how she looks when she's focused on drawing. He had promised to stay out of her but he can't help it. "Hey Chiyo." She's only given those words, enough to catch her attention and gaze, but that's it. He moves quickly, leaning down to place a soft kiss upon her lips. It's quick, barely lasting a couple of seconds before he breaks it. Yet he's slow to pull away, only blinking at her as he processes what he's actually just done. "Sorry. You just... You looked really pretty."
unprompted | @cursedblessed kisses chiyo!
she doesn't usually have anyone over when she's working. it's just too easy to be distracted, to procrastinate. and she'd like to say that having james beside her is different, that she's completely focused and not at all bothered by the gaze she feels upon her face. she'd like to say that she isn't embarrassingly aware of the warmth just a few inches away from her and that she hasn't thought about scooting closer. she'd like to say that she's comfortable as can be, but it just isn't true ( she thinks too much, puts too much effort into pushing the thoughts down and out of sight ).
she responds to her name much too quickly, she thinks -- or, rather, she would have thought so if not for the lips that gently press against her own. it's chaste, fleeting, but her heart jumps all the same. she stops breathing all the same. she stares up at james all the same, brow furrowed and lips slightly parted.
sorry. you just... you looked really pretty.
anxiety flares to life in chiyo's chest even as butterflies flutter inside her stomach ( or is that anxiety, too? ). she breaks eye contact, gaze falling to james' mouth and then finding a spot off the the side to focus on instead. " you could've just said so, " chiyo utters, and she wants it to sound much more casual than it does. the way she says it makes it sound like she's asking a question. why did you kiss me? what does this mean?
she should ask him plainly. she shouldn't hope james will understand what she isn't saying, but the closest chiyo can get is, " you don't normally kiss your friends to compliment them. "
#cursedblessed#i'm coming to the realization than chiyo is a little dumb when it comes to relationships and i'm ASDFG#someone: literally kisses her#chiyo sweating and refusing to believe they have romantic interest in her: why did you do that :( my heart can't take it :(#i'm so sorry that james is gonna have to deal with her insecure lil butt she's doing her best i promise asdf#but thank you for this bc it was very cute and gave me a big ol' serotonin boost hehe#i'm holding them gently and squishing them together <3#interactions | chiyoko#a chain reaction in your heart | adulthood | chiyoko
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Newcastle hanging on after Yates scores Forest’s third – latest
Good afternoon and welcome to live coverage of Newcastle United vs Nottingham Forest from the Premier League as Eddie Howe’s men look to close the gap in the race for Champions League football.
Newcastle are currently sat in eighth but would climb up to fifth and go within three points of Nuno Espirito Santo’s side, who are in third, with victory this afternoon. The hosts would also go level on points with Manchester City in fourth ahead of the champions’ clash with leaders Liverpool later on this afternoon.
Meanwhile, a win for Forest would see them go seven points clear of Bournemouth and Chelsea in fifth and sixth, respectively, and would take them just three points shy of Arsenal after their title hopes were dealt a blow with defeat against West Ham United on Saturday.
#newcastle united#newcastle united v nottingham forest#newcastle united v nottingham forest match preview#nottingham forest vs newcastle united#newcastle united v nottingham forest premier league#forest vs newcastle#newcastle united fans reaction#newcastle united match preview#arsenal v nottingham forest on tv#newcastle united team news#newcastle#newcastle united news#newcastle united news live#best saves football manager#james lawrence allcott#soccer on espn#newcastle vs nottm forest#newcastle vs nottingham forest#lewis miley#nufc#newcastle fc#newcastle score#newcastle united f.c.#newcastle v nottingham forest#forest#newcastle match#newcastle united f.c. vs nottingham forest#newcastle fixtures#newcastle match today#nufc fixtures
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JAMES POTTER | BOUDOIR PHOTOSHOOT
sum. : you have your bridesmaids show James, your, now, husband, polaroid samples from your boudoir photoshoot on your wedding night while you enjoy his reactions from afar
quick note : boudoir is a photography style showcasing sensual, romantic and even erotic images of the subject person. It showcases and celebrates the person's beauty and sexuality.
tags. : marrying james potter ; fluff ; kinda spicy ; you have the best bridesmaids ; inspired by a tiktok ; james is the perfect man for you ; wedding day! ; james loves your body ; no mentions of specific body type; james can't wait for his wedding 'night' ; shy reader shows her wild side~
length : 2k
navi. | more james potter
In preparation for your wedding day, you participated in a boudoir photoshoot. You were marrying the man of your dreams, the most perfect man for you, James Potter. It was your way of expressing your love, to show him how confident and beautiful he made you feel. Not a day goes by without him whispering an affectionate ‘I love you’ into your ear or expressing how beautiful he finds you despite the imperfections you nitpick along the lines of your body. He doesn’t let your toxic, self-deprecating thoughts linger for long; he loves every beautiful inch of you and he’s not afraid to show it, especially when you make love together. He loves you unconditionally and makes you want for nothing more in life. With him, you’re always content.
This was a thank you to him for loving you so wholeheartedly and to showcase the beauty you were able to find in yourself because of him. You worked with your bridesmaids to pick out the perfect set of lingerie to wear for the photo shoot and had the most amazing photographer guiding you throughout. She was the perfect balance of encouragement, support and positive energy. And she was so respectful too. You were always the shy type so the beginning was quite wobbly but you eventually found your flow and it ended on such a high note. As promised, she created a beautiful photo album of the pictures you approved and made small Polaroid samples of the ones you wanted your bridesmaids to ambush James with on your wedding night.
The shoot was weeks ago and now you were on the evening of your Wedding day. Everyone was dancing around, having a fun time, James’ close friends were a good level of tipsy with several of the guests congregating around the wedding live-painter to admire her work. It wasn’t ready yet but you made sure to check on her and keep her well-fed throughout the night; she was a guest too and was doing something incredible for your wedding, it was the least you could do.
You fondly eye James as he dances with your family, a bright smile on his face. You still remember walking down the aisle, smiling at him as he wipes at his eyes, sniffling wetly at the sight of you but he was grinning the entire time. Neither of you has stopped smiling the whole day, you believe. It really was the perfect wedding.
“Are you ready, Mrs Potter?” Lily whispers teasingly, trying to suppress a giggle as she flattens a Polaroid sample of your boudoir shoot to her chest. Your other bridesmaids, Marlene, Mary, Dorcas and Alice have also come to surround you, mischievous grins on their faces as they each tightly hold onto a Polaroid sample, making sure that it wouldn’t be seen by anyone but the intended target by holding it close to their chests.
Biting your lip, you temper a wide grin and nod. They squeal and turn to one another with a buzz in their veins, “Just like we planned ladies,” Alice giggles before they all nod and split up with Marlene heading straight for James. You don’t know what photo any of the girls have but Lily informed you that they formed an order from least to most scandalous. It was devious but a good plan. You move to stand in view of James so you can see his reaction to each photo from afar, the girls also hold up their phones to record his reaction from up close so they can send you the video later on.
James was dancing along happily, not having drunk a single drop of alcohol as he wanted to savour every moment of his wedding ceremony. He wanted to remember everything! He was also pretty sure he didn’t need alcohol to feel drunk, the electric feeling in the air was all he needed to fly high above the clouds. He’s never been so happy his entire life; he married the woman of his dreams and she let him give her his last name. He feels complete. And he was still riding that high when Marlene came up to him with a Cheshire grin on her face.
“Yohooo~ Jamsiekins!” James rolls his eyes but smiles at her nonetheless.
“Yes, McKinnon?” a small bolt of worry flashes through him, “Is my wife okay?”
“She’s perfect! She actually wanted me to give you a present~” James raises a brow and tries to look for you in the crowd but is unsuccessful when Marlene steps closer, her phone raised and flips the Polaroid that was pressed to her chest at him. He gives it a brief glance, barely registering the image before going slackjawed and doing a double take. The second time, he looks at it longer and with wide eyes, wanting to imprint the entire image into his brain.
“So beautiful…” James trails off, staring longingly at the image of you in a see-through nightgown leaning against the windowsill with your hair beautifully done and your beauty on show under the gentle sun. He stutters in place when Marlene flips the Polaroid again. He looks at her like a hurt puppy, “Is th-that for me? C-can I keep it?” He reaches for the Polaroid and thankfully, Marlene surrenders it without a fuss. He grins and kisses the photo before tucking it into his blazer's breast pocket, “Thank you~”
“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr Potter,” Marlene salutes him with two fingers before marching off to pull Sirius away from the buffet table and onto the dance floor. James chuckles at her antics before looking through the crowds until he meets your shy eyes. His gaze softens with affection at your bashful demeanour and he sets out a clear path towards you.
But he’s stopped by Alice who has another Polaroid and also has her phone raised. She, too, shows him the Polaroid of you, this time laid across a bed and sweetly looking into the camera at your side with a hidden smile, a lacy, see-through slip dress draping over your figure. His eyes linger on the curve of your spine and the perfect roundness of your butt. He can make out the small, lacy set you wear underneath and he swears he’s found heaven on earth. His hands immediately go up to cover the Polaroid from both sides as he bites his bottom lip to suppress a feral scream.
“God, I’m so lucky…” he looks up at Alice from behind the camera, which perfectly captures the lovestruck look in his eyes and the soft blush on his cheeks, “That’s my wife…she’s my wife” he sounds breathless and giddy, making Alice laugh before surrendering the Polaroid. She sends you the video of James before looking for Frank and silently wishing the rest of the girls luck.
James quickly puts Alice’s polaroid into his breast pocket too and returns on his path to you. But he barely makes it two steps forward before Lily ambushes him with another Polaroid and a phone to his face. He wants to smile like a madman but his dropped jaw makes it too difficult. He immediately snatches the photo and cradles it preciously, admiring your beauty once more. You’re scandalously raising your nightgown to showcase your cute, lace panties, a matching garter belt and thigh highs as you innocently look at the camera with glossy, smiling lips.
“Ho-ly. Shit…” he swallows hard and begins to pant like an animal in heat, “Oh my– fuck!” he holds the Polaroid to his chest with reddening cheeks and wild eyes. He sags comically, dramatically showing how he’s close to collapsing on the spot. He’s seeing an entirely new side of you, not that he’s complaining, he just wasn’t prepared. A feral, primitive instinct builds up from within him. He desperately fights it and the urge to savagely take you in front of everyone, “She’s trying to kill me! This isn’t fair! She’s so sexy!” Lily giggles maniacally at him and pats his shoulder as if to wish him luck and James both dreads and is excited about what may come next.
He’s soon stopped by Dorcas. This time his brows fly up to his hair line and he forgets to breathe. His hands instinctively shield the photo as he bends down to observe the small image so closely his nose touches the film. He pulls back and releases a heavy breath before leaning in again with the same shocked but appreciative look on his flushed face.
“Woah!” he looks around frantically as if he’s doing something he isn’t supposed to do and looks at the picture of you for a third time, trying hard not to groan at the tightening in his trousers. The image is of you from behind, draped over a decorative vintage sofa with your ass in the air, there’s no see-through nightgown, only a red lacy number with a garter belt and thigh highs. He berates himself for the dirty scene that flashes in his mind; he’s perfectly positioned behind you, his hands gripping your hips as he grinds his—
“Keep it in your pants,” Dorcas laughs at him as she walks away, her phone still raised at him.
“You’re not making it very easy for me!” James huffs in mock anger, hastily pocketing his fourth Polaroid that night.
When Mary comes up to him with the same routine, James doesn’t know whether he groans from suppressed excitement or dread at making a fool of himself in front of you for a fifth time. He knows you're watching him and seeing his reactions closely from the videos the girls were taking. And, although he wants to be a gentleman, you’ve always gotten such a big reaction from him over the littlest things, it’s only natural he gets worked up over scandalous images of you too.
This photo of you was the most scandalous and immediately stole James’ breath away. It’s a top-down view of you on a bed with half-lidded eyes, your bra unclasped and in the process of slipping off if it weren’t for your arm coming across your chest to stop it. The position, however, only further accentuates your cleavage and his eyes linger on the delicious sight for an embarrassingly long time. Your other hand reaches down and fingers just beneath your panty line, a suggestive action he desperately wants you to recreate for him in private later. You looked ripe and ready to be eaten alive and James would gladly jump at the opportunity. It’s the perfect snapshot of you just before he devours you whole. The photo has him reaching to unbuckle his belt but he resists and snatches it up instead, panting like a dog with a wild glint in his hazel eyes. “This better be the last one of my wife or else I’m punching a wall,” Mary shakes her head at him with a laugh, “it’s not funny! I’m going crazy!”
With a wink, Mary confirms that it’s the last one and tilts her head in your direction. Without wasting another second, James rushes to you, his beautiful bride, dressed in white. It was the best day of his life but he wants it to hurry up and be over already so he can finally have you to himself. All polaroids are tucked safely into his inner blazer pocket as he wraps you up in his arms and buries his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder. “I’m going mad over you, love,” he voices with a hidden growl to his voice, kissing and sucking at your exposed skin, whilst desperately breathing in the fragrance of you. You’ve never seen him so… animalistic before but it lights a fire inside you that you happily fall into.
“Wait until you see the whole album~” Your comment has him shooting up, away from your neck and leaning into your face. The feral look in his eyes is unmistakable as he whispers against your lips.
“There’s an entire album of you looking like that?”
“Yes~ And it’s all for you~” James almost faints on the spot.
navi. | more james potter
a/n : for those curious, this is the tiktok it was inspired by hehe~ this was a little nsfw but i hope you darlings enjoyed!
#james potter#james potter x reader#marauders#james potter x you#james potter oneshot#james potter fanfic#james potter fluff#james potter imagine#james potter fanfiction#james potter fic
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happy birthday, congressman 💋
pairing: congressman!bucky barnes x female reader
summary: the congressman has been busy all day on his birthday, so before you meet him at the gala you're attending as his date, you send him a playfully revealing photo—and it gets the exact reaction you were hoping for.
warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, sexting, nude photos, age gap (because bucky is 108 and reader's age is never referenced), light spanking, brief dry humping, clothes tearing, tit/nipple play, dirty talk, very light degradation, praise kink, congressman kink, pet names (baby), lipstick marking, possessiveness, teasing, flirting, kissing, some rough kissing, aftercare, cockwarming
word count: 4.1k
a/n: ok listen i know there's other stuff i need to be writing, but i always write a fic for bucky's birthday!! this year it really snuck up on me and i had nothing planned so i threw this idea/fic together today around a very long work day, so apologies if it's not up to my usual standard, but i hope y'all still enjoy it! ♡
Happy Birthday, congressman 💋 See you soon.
The flirty text was sent to Congressman James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes with a swoosh—but that wasn’t all you’d sent. You’d also attached a photo of yourself and, looking at it, you couldn’t help but smirk.
In the photo, you had your lips pursed as you blew a kiss at the camera, one eye closed in a coy wink. Although you knew the expression on your face, which was all dolled up for the gala that evening, would be enough to get Bucky’s attention, it wasn’t the whole focus of the photo.
No, that would be your tits.
Before snapping the photo, you’d pulled down the front of your gown and used your arm to push up your soft mounds, putting them on display for the camera—and, of course, whoever looked at the photo. Namely, Bucky.
But you paused to admire your camerawork. The angle made your tits look lush and supple, as much cleavage on display as was possible for you, and your nipples pebbled in such a way that they seemed to be begging for attention.
It was by far one of your favorite nude photos you’d sent to Bucky and you eagerly awaited his response. Thankfully, you didn’t have to wait long.
Thank you, baby. You look beautiful. I can’t wait to see you.
Your smirk softened into a sweeter smile. It wasn’t the response you were expecting, not after you’d sent the congressman a photo of your tits while he was probably still in official government meetings, but it was appreciated nonetheless, especially since you hadn’t seen him all day.
Bucky had been gone from the apartment you shared by the time you’d woken up that morning, which you suspected was an attempt to avoid any fuss about his birthday. He wasn’t exactly overly fond of attention.
But you’d wanted to wake him up by worshipping his cock, which you were pretty sure he would’ve enjoyed. However, the congressman had had other ideas. You probably should’ve known he’d make sure his day was fully packed so no one would have time to wish him a happy birthday—if anyone aside from you even knew.
The nude photo as a teaser for meeting up with him at the gala that evening was your next best idea to surprise him with something you knew he’d like. Of course, you’d thought it would get a little bit more of a rise out of him, though you couldn’t stop your heart from warming at the praise in his text.
While staring at the text, and smiling at your phone like the silly lovesick idiot you were for Bucky Barnes, another message came in.
But let me make something clear: You’re in trouble for that photo. The Prime Minister of Japan almost saw your tits. That’s unacceptable, baby.
There it was. The response you’d been hoping for.
The warmth of desire suffused your belly and a grin spread across your face while you laughed happily. You were so delighted by Bucky’s response, you spun around in a circle, too giddy with excitement for what he might be planning to stop yourself from dancing a little in triumph.
Once you finally calmed yourself, you tapped out a response to Bucky’s message, beaming smugly to yourself when you imagined the way he’d growl indignantly at your text when he got it.
You worry too much, old man.
Not even waiting for a response, you gathered your things quickly and shoved them in a clutch. Then you called a car and flounced out of the apartment, heading to see your congressman.
“Who gave you the right to look this gorgeous at such a boring event?”
A cool metal hand slipped around your hip, pulling your body back into something warm and firm. You relaxed immediately into the familiar hold, Bucky’s subtle cologne wrapping around you like your favorite blanket.
Tipping your head back, you brushed a kiss to the underside of his jaw, taking care not to leave any lipstick behind. A tingle of delight danced through your body as you felt the rasp of his scruff against your lips, and you were so wound up, you nearly begged Bucky to take you right there.
Thankfully, in the crowded room full of people, you were able to keep things light.
“I believe it’s you, congressman, who protects my right to look gorgeous at this very important event,” you murmured teasingly, turning in Bucky’s arms so you faced him. You leaned in at the same time he did, your lips meeting in a brief peck before you both pulled away.
There was a time and a place for public displays of affection, but at the gala honoring the anniversary of the Battle of New York, while you were the date to Congressman Bucky Barnes, wasn’t it.
The grand marble hall had been filled with artifacts from the battle, and all of New York City’s wealthiest and most influential people had turned out to gawk while sipping very expensive champagne. You were acutely aware of all the subtle glances you and the congressman were getting as you took brief refuge beside a large piller.
Still, you couldn’t stop yourself from rubbing your hands down the lapels of Bucky’s suit jacket, pretending you were smoothing out any wrinkles from the black fabric, when you were really copping a feel. You never could get enough of touching him, your fingers digging greedily into the soft-padded muscles beneath his clothes.
“Are you having a happy birthday, Buck?” you asked, your voice just above a whisper to make sure no one around you heard your question. You were certain he wanted to avoid a night of birthday wishes on top of all the smalltalk he’d have to endure.
Bucky’s arms had settled around your lower back and he tugged you in a little closer, trapping you against his chest with his vibranium forearm. Your eyes flared with surprise and your smile hitched up a notch. You could feel the beginning of a bulge in the front of Bucky’s suit, which made warmth bloom and unfurl in your lower belly.
“It’s getting better now that you’re here,” Bucky murmured, ducking down to brush a kiss to your cheek. The action also put his mouth close to your ear, giving him the opportunity to growl, “And the moment I get you alone, you’ll be paying the price for that picture you sent.”
Tossing your head back, you let out a light, tinkling laugh that certainly did not sound anything like a devious cackle. You knew the gala wasn’t the right place to be cackling at Bucky’s sinful promise, but that didn’t stop you from giving him as good as you got.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, old man,” you teased with a wink before pressing your own kiss to Bucky’s cheek.
When you pulled back, you noticed you’d left a stain of lipstick in the shape of your mouth. A deep, instinctive part of you wanted to leave the mark on Bucky’s cheek. You wanted him to wear it as a reminder of who he belonged to.
But you knew you couldn’t leave it. It wasn’t the time or the place.
Before you wiped it away, though, you pulled your phone from your clutch and turned again in Bucky’s arms, nestling your back against his chest as you lifted your phone and smiled.
Bucky’s eyes snagged on the mark on his cheek, the corners of his mouth curving into a smug, devastating smirk. His blue eyes were brimming with heat as you snapped a quick selfie of the two of you, his expression offering dark promises as you grinned unrepentantly with your mark on his cheek.
Once your phone was stowed away, you used your thumb to wipe the lipstick from Bucky’s cheek. When that was done, you wrapped yourself around his vibranium arm, tucking your body into his side.
“Alright, congressman, let’s schmooze,” you said, squaring your shoulders and readying yourself for the dozens and dozens of smalltalk conversations you’d have to have with all of New York City’s finest.
“Let’s get this over with,” Bucky agreed grimly, like he was preparing to charge into battle instead of into the crowd of elegantly dressed people milling about the large hall.
Before you stepped into the crowd together, Bucky turned his head and brushed a kiss to your temple, murmuring, “The sooner we get this done, the sooner I get you alone and all to myself—and then I’ll truly get to enjoy my birthday.”
With those words swirling around in your head, Bucky led the way into the crowd, stopping after only a few strides to speak to Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, the director of the CIA. You forced yourself to push Bucky’s tantalizing promise from your mind as you fixed a smile on your face and greeted Valentina.
The door to your apartment hadn’t even snapped shut before Bucky spun you around and pinned your back to the door, his big body crushing you against the firm wood as his mouth crashed down on yours.
His kiss was furious, all the pent up desire pouring out of him in the rough way his lips devoured yours, wringing breathy gasps and keening whines from the depths of your throat in mere minutes.
The gala had lasted for ages, and Bucky hadn’t had a chance pull himself away from the constant smalltalk, let alone make good on his promises. In the car on the ride back to your apartment overlooking the skyline of New York City, both of you had been buzzing with need and desire, and you practically raced each other home.
A moan tumbled from your lips as Bucky sank his teeth into your lower lip, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck to pull him even closer. Greedily, your fingers raked through his soft brown hair, lifting one of your thighs to hook around his hip and press your core against the thick bulge in his pants.
Bucky’s warm hand grabbed your thigh, holding it up an squeezing you hard. There was a possessive hunger in the way his fingers dug into your soft flesh, and it made your own desire ratchet even higher.
In the next moment, Bucky was bending down and grabbing the back of your other thigh. He lifted you up while your legs hooked around his waist, his mouth never breaking from yours as he continued his ravaging kiss.
Your hands cupped his face, giving him just as good as you got, nipping at his lips and licking your tongue into his mouth, consuming him just as wholly as he was you.
“How much do you like this dress?”
Bucky’s question was a growl against the edge of your jaw, his lips breaking from yours to press hot, heated kisses down to your neck. The rasp of his stubble against your throat made you shiver and whine, tilting your head to the side to give him more access to suck at the pulse thundering beneath your skin.
“It’s not…my favorite…” you huffed in between gasping breaths, your hips rocking impatiently against Bucky’s stomach. He had a thin layer of softness padding the hard, super soldier muscles beneath, and it felt divine to grind against, giving you some of the friction your body was craving, even if it wasn’t nearly enough.
Your answer had barely passed your lips before Bucky was pressing you harder to the door, freeing him up to grab handfuls of your dress and tear it open like it was nothing more than tissue paper. But he didn’t stop there, he ripped right through the bodice until the garment was hanging off your shoulders in tatters.
A gasp wrenched from your lips as the cool air of the apartment brushed against your heated skin. You were half stunned by the shear strength of what he’d done, staring at him in awe, but Bucky must’ve misinterpreted your expression because he shot you an apologetic grimace.
“I’ll buy you a new one,” he promised, sounding sincerely remorseful.
You still hadn’t recovered from how hot it’d been for Bucky to literally tear your dress off your body, so you just nodded distractedly.
He hummed in acknowledgement before he continued ravishing your body, burying his face in your tits and lavishing them with attention. You hadn’t been able to wear a bra with your dress so there was nothing stopping Bucky from kissing and nipping your soft mounds, and dragging the flat of his tongue over your sensitive nipples.
“Ah, yes, Bucky, please,” you cried softly, arching your spine and pushing your chest further into Bucky’s mouth. It took you a moment for his words to properly filter through the haze of lust in your mind, and when they did, you snorted. “I don’t care about the dress—make it up to me by getting inside me. Now.”
A growl rumbled up from Bucky’s chest. The sound was muffled by your tits, but no less menacing.
“You’re not in any position to be giving me orders, baby,” he warned, yanking you away from the door and storming deeper into the apartment. His gait was heavy, and even hearing his footfalls somehow turned you on more, imagining the determined way he was moving.
As he walked, the remnants of your dress fluttered to the floor, leaving you in nothing but your drenched panties and the high heels still strapped to your feet. Meanwhile, Bucky was wearing almost his full suit, having shed his jacket in the car ride home.
The starched fabric of his shirt was rubbing deliciously against your nipples as you clung to his neck, and you writhed against him like a cat in heat. You needed more, needed him. Immediately.
“Now that you’ve got me alone, what’re you gonna do with me, congressman?” you murmured huskily in Bucky’s ear as he stalked over to the couch in your living room. You pressed hot, needy kisses his jaw and neck, delighting in every lipstick print your mouth left on his skin.
Bucky paused beside the couch, taking a moment to make sure your legs were arranged in such a way that they wouldn’t be caught beneath him, then he sat down, sinking deep into the soft cushions.
While you perched on his lap, his bulge nestled against the heated juncture of your thighs, Bucky sat back and spread his arms wide across the back of the couch. You pouted a little at the fact that he wasn’t touching you anymore, but before you could voice the complaint, he spoke.
“I’m going to watch your pretty tits bounce while you fuck yourself on my cock,” Bucky rumbled, a self-satisfied smirk curling the corner of his mouth when he saw you suck in an excited gasp of breath. “You’re gonna have to work for my cum, baby, so let’s see you hop to it.”
He gave your ass a sharp spank of encouragement, like one might do to an animal to get it to go, and he lifted a brow in an expectant look, nodding toward his lap.
You knew he was acting like an imperious jerk on purpose, and any other time it might’ve riled you up enough to be a brat. But you were too worked up to care.
With deft, eager fingers, you undid Bucky’s belt and fly, reaching inside his pants to pull out his cock. He was hard and thick, already leaking precum. It was a small tragedy that you couldn’t take your time to swirl your tongue around the tip and taste him first.
But Bucky was already beginning to look impatient, so you made quick work of lifting yourself up onto your knees and lining up your pussy with the tip of his cock. You had to hook a finger around your panties to pull them aside, but then you had a better idea.
“A little help, Buck?” you asked, lifting your eyes to his and tugging on your panties so he’d know what you wanted.
A feral smile stole across Bucky’s face, and then his fingers were curling around the fabric at your hip. He tore through your panties even more easily than your dress, ripping them from your body and tossing the ruined material somewhere over his shoulder.
It was just as hot as him tearing off your dress, but you reveled in it for only a moment before the sense of urgency returned.
You pressed down on the tip of Bucky’s cock, moaning when it slipped inside your dripping hole. The stretch was familiar but no less delicious as you lowered yourself slowly down the shaft, savoring every inch that pushed inside your tight heat.
“Feel soooo good, congressman,” you slurred, your head hazy with pleasure.
“Mm, you feel good too, baby,” Bucky murmured. His hips lifted slightly from the couch and he fucked up into you, burying himself another inch while you gasped in surprise. “Such a tight, hot cunt—perfect for keeping your congressman’s cock warm.”
At his words, your gaze caught Bucky’s and you found him grinning at you with a hungry glint in his eye.
An excited thrill swooped through your belly and it was in that moment you knew you had a long night ahead of you. A long night with Bucky spent right where he was meant to be—inside you. You couldn’t have held back your eager grin if you’d tried.
“I’ll be happy to keep your cock warm, congressman,” you purred, leaning forward and brushing a kiss to the corner of Bucky’s mouth. “After you’ve filled me up with cum.”
Your cheeky comment earned you another good-natured spank on your ass. It didn’t hurt much, and you giggled as the slight sting made your pussy even wetter.
After that, it took only a few more moments for you to work yourself down on Bucky’s cock, taking him to the hilt. There, you paused and savored the feeling of being full, your hands wandering up from Bucky’s stomach to the collar of his white dress shirt.
At some point in your furious making out, your fingers had undone the top buttons of his shirt and you could see just a hint of the undershirt beneath—and much more tantalizingly, the dark shadow of his chest hair. Your fingers played in the soft hair before you lifted your eyes to Bucky, a taunting smile flirting around the edges of your lips.
“You sure you’re ready for this, old man?”
Bucky’s eyes darkened, his lips pulling back from his teeth in a snarl that had no business being as hot as it was. His vibranium hand slapped your ass, and though he kept a tight leash on his super solder strength so he didn’t hurt you, that one stung a little bit more than his earlier, more playful spanks.
“Bounce that pretty ass on my cock, baby, or I’ll do much worse than make you work for my cum.” His voice was low, dangerous, the anger in it dripping down your spine like hot candle wax and setting your nerves on fire.
Before you’d even decided to comply with Bucky’s command, your hips were lifting up from his lap, then slamming back down on his cock. The force of it nearly knocked the breath from your lungs, and Bucky grunted, affected just as much by the tight grip of your pussy.
True to his word, Bucky didn’t help you fuck him.
Sure, his hands spanked you every once in a while, when you slowed down too much or began rocking your hips on his cock, chasing your release before he was ready. He even made it more difficult for you, torturing your tits by groping your soft flesh in his strong hands and ducking forward to suck on your nipples.
But you were determined to get him there. So it was all your hard work that got Bucky to the edge, your thighs quivering with the effort as you bounced up and down his cock. By that time, you were a whiny, sweaty mess, begging him pathetically to cum inside you.
“Please, congressman, please fill me up, please cum inside me—I need it, I need your cum, Bucky, god, please,” you babbled helplessly. Your hips were rocking and bouncing and working on his cock with every muscle in your body, all of which felt like warmed butter after fucking him for so long.
“Oh, you need it, huh?” Bucky cooed patronizingly, his hand slipping down from your hip so his thumb could find your clit. “Need my cum in this desperate cunt?”
When you nodded emphatically, Bucky chuckled meanly, his eyes going even darker as he held your gaze.
“Then maybe next time you’ll think a little bit more about the consequences of your actions before you send me a picture of your tits while I’m at a summit with half the world’s leaders. Your tits are only for me to see, isn’t that right, baby?”
“Yes, yes, only for you, Bucky, I won’t send you another nude photo while you’re at work, I promise,” you rambled quickly, a whining, pleading tone in your voice.
Bucky’s gaze searched your face, and he must’ve been satisfied by what he saw because something in him snapped. He gave up all pretense of restraint as he fucked up into you from the couch, bracing your hips with his hands.
Your folds were wet and messy, but the pad of his thumb was ruthless as he rubbed circles against your achy clit. Pleasure burst behind your eyes, and you cried out, your body barreling toward your release at breakneck speed.
“Cum, baby, cum all over my cock,” Bucky urged, his voice huskier and more demanding.
Even if you’d wanted to hold back, you couldn’t. Bucky’s cock, his thumb on your clit, his voice in his ears—it was all too perfect, too depraved, too hot.
The tension that had been coiling in your belly snapped and you threw your head back, screaming your release to the rooftops of New Your City as pleasure wracked your body.
Bucky’s metal arm banded around your lower back, pinning you to his lap while he buried his cock balls-deep in your cunt. His face fell to your tits, your soft curves muffling his furious grunts as he chased his release in your fluttering pussy.
He followed you over the edge a moment later, groaning your name as he spilled himself deep inside you.
The twitching of his cock and the warmth of his seed sent more aftershocks of bliss through your body and you trembled in Bucky’s arms, your fingers clinging desperately to the collar of his shirt.
Entwined together on the couch in your apartment, you and Bucky caught your breath, enjoying the feeling of being wrapped up together, your chests heaving in tandem and the smell of sex permeating the air.
After a moment, he leaned back into the soft cushions behind him, pulling you gently to sprawl across his chest. You settled against him with a contented sigh.
Bucky’s metal hand cupped the back of your neck, cradling your head and tucking it beneath his chin while the fingers of his other hand stroked idly up and down your spine. You murmured happily, snuggling deeper into Bucky’s warmth and appreciating the moment of being with him.
“So, did you have a happy birthday, congressman?” you asked teasingly. Your voice was softer than a whisper, but you had no doubt your super soldier could hear you perfectly.
A rumbling came from the depths of Bucky’s chest, but it sounded pleased. “I did. Thank you, baby.”
“You’re welcome, Buck,” you whispered back, turning your head and pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat, right above where his heart beat in his chest.
When you pulled back and saw a faint imprint of your lipstick, the last remnants that had still been clinging to your lips, you smiled. In fact, you were pleased with all the lipstick marks you’d left all over Bucky’s face and neck—that deep, instinctive part of you was very satisfied.
Bucky chuckled, pulling you back down to lay on him again, and you knew he was just as primally satisfied by the promise he’d wrung from you just before he’d made you cum.
Of course, there was always a loophole, and you were determined to find it. But that could wait for another time.
For the moment, you were just glad you’d been able to give your favorite person in the world, Congressman James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, a happy birthday—because he made you happy every day of the year.
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes' birthday#bucky barnes imagine#congressman bucky#congressman bucky barnes#sebastian stan#sebastian stan smut#sebastian stan fanfiction#sebastian stan characters#witchywithwhiskeywork
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𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐮𝐭
pairing: drew starkey x actress!reader
summary: drew appears on the late late show with james corden to play the infamous game ‘spill your guts or fill your guts’. little does he know, you had previously been on the show and specifically requested he be invited.
warning(s): english is not my native language. mild language, secondhand embarrassment, extreme cheesiness and boyfriend material overload.
au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. ⭐️ taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy @winniemoe @emberaurora @watercolorskyy @kravitzwhore @issabellec7
based on this request
“Alright, Drew,” James started, rubbing his hands together.
“First of all, welcome! We are so happy to have you here.”
“Thank you, man, I appreciate it,” Drew said, shifting in his seat.
“Though I gotta say, I have a really bad feeling about this.”
James let out a dramatic laugh.
“As you should! Because, as you saw, your lovely girlfriend Y/N was here not too long ago. And guess what? She personally requested you to be here tonight!”
Drew groaned playfully, running a hand through his hair.
“Oh, I knew it!”
“And,” James continued, “she also made sure we included dark chocolate, which I assume is some kind of inside joke?”
Drew exhaled through his nose, shaking his head.
“Yeah, uh, I hates dark chocolate. Like, passionately. So this is definitely her way of messing with me.”
“Well, my friend, she succeeded!” James laughed.
“Now, let’s get started! First up…”
He gestured toward the table, dramatically lifting the first lid.
James scrunched his nose.
“Oh, this smells absolutely disgusting. So, Drew, here’s your first question: What is the most annoying habit Y/N has that drives you crazy?”
The crowd gasped playfully. Drew tilted his head back, laughing.
“Oh man, I can already hear her reaction to this.”
“Would you like a bite of pickled pig’s feet instead?”
James wiggled his eyebrows.
Drew shook his head.
“No, no, I’ll answer. Uh… okay, Y/N is literally the most perfect human, but if I had to say something…”
He exhaled dramatically.
“She never puts the cap back on the toothpaste. And she squeezes it from the middle instead of the bottom, and it kills me.”
The audience burst into laughter.
“That is valid,” James agreed.
“She’s an amazing actress, but a toothpaste menace.”
James pulled out a glass filled with a murky, grayish-green liquid.
“This is a sardine smoothie. And your question is: What’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for Y/N that she doesn’t even know about?”
Drew winced at the drink.
“That looks awful.”
“It is awful,” James confirmed. “So spill it.”
Drew thought for a moment, then smiled.
“Okay. There was this one time when Y/N had a bad day she didn’t say anything, but I could tell. She had this childhood book she lost years ago, so I spent weeks tracking down a first-edition copy. I left it on her nightstand with a note, but I never told her it was me.”
The audience awed loudly.
James clutched his chest.
“That is the most romantic thing I have ever heard in my life!”
Drew shrugged, grinning. “I just love making her happy.”
James lifted the lid, revealing a large, slimy cow tongue. Drew grimaced.
“Nope. Absolutely not.”
“Then answer this,” James smirked.
“Out of all of Y/N’s past on-screen romantic co-stars, who do you think had the best chemistry with her?”
Drew’s jaw dropped as the audience gasped. “Oh, come on!”
“Answer, or it’s cow tongue time!”
Drew groaned.
“Fine. If I’m being honest… I hated watching her with Jake Gyllenhaal. They just had way too much chemistry, and it made me so jealous.”
James burst into laughter.
“You paused the movie, didn’t you?”
Drew sighed. “Paused it. Left the room. Came back an hour later and still wasn’t over it.”
James lifted the plate.
“Drew, Y/N personally requested the chocolate, but we added wasabi. Your question: What’s the cheesiest thing you say to Y/N in private that you would never say in public?”
Drew groaned.
“Oh no. Nope. I refuse to expose myself like this.”
“You sure?” James taunted.
Drew sighed. “Fine. I call her ‘my little sunshine bean.’”
James lost it. “SUNSHINE BEAN?!”
Drew buried his face in his hands. “I knew this was a mistake!”
James wiped his tears.
“Alright, last one. You have to call Y/N and let her ask you a question. Answer, or take a bite of fermented tofu.”
Drew sighed dramatically before dialing your number.
“Drew?” your voice filled the studio. “Are you on Spill Your Guts?”
The crowd cheered.
“Yeah, baby, I am. And James is making me call you.”
You giggled. “Okay… If you had to get a giant tattoo of my face anywhere, where would you put it?”
Drew groaned as James cackled.
“Fine! I’d put it on my ribs. Right over my heart, happy now?”
You gasped dramatically. “That was actually a really good answer.”
James smirked. “What’s a role you regret turning down or missing out on?”
Drew sighed. “I was this close to being in a Western movie, and I regret not pushing harder for it.”
James lifted the bowl. “If you could travel anywhere right now, where would it be?”
Drew smiled. “Greece. I wanna take Y/N and just disappear on an island for a month.”
James leaned in. “What’s your dream project?”
Drew grinned. “Something I can do with Y/N. Whether it’s a rom-com or an action movie, I just wanna work with her.”
James clapped his hands.
“Drew, you survived!”
Drew blew a kiss to the camera.
“I did it for you, baby!”
#drew starkey#drew starkey imagine#drew starkey imagines#drew starkey x y/n#drew starkey x you#drew starkey fanfiction#drew starkey fanfic#drew starkey fluff#drew starkey one shot#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey x famous!reader#drew starkey x actress!reader#drew starkey x singer!reader#drew starkey x female reader
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bloody bird's nest
poly!marauders x reader where Sirius is in one of his moods ✩ 679 words
cw: just sweet silly fluff
an: originally started this as just sirius x reader but then it turned into poly!marauders! so surprise first poly!marauders fic!!!

“This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. It's a bloody outrage, is what it is.”
That's the first thing you hear as you walk into the boys’ flat. They're sitting at the dining table drinking cups of tea, while Sirius is complaining about something. Neither Remus or James look very concerned about their boyfriends musings. You, however, can’t help but feel a twinge of concern at the sharpness of his tone.
You approach him quietly, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on the crown of his head. He doesn’t preen like usual, not even a little. His body is stiff, and your heart clenches in worry.
“Oh, don’t mind him, dovey. He’s just in one of his moods,” Remus says casually, his arm extending to pull you gently into a hug. He presses a quick kiss to your lips before guiding you to sit next to him. You look over to James for confirmation that there really is nothing to worry about, and he's just beaming at you.
“I resent that, moony, this is perfectly justified and I just can’t–” then his eyes meet yours, “doll, when did you get here?”
His face softens and he leans over to give you a kiss on the top of your head this time in apology and then goes back to his furious ranting.
You’re trying your best to keep up with whatever Sirius is saying when a cup of tea is placed in front of you, when you look up it's James that’s made it, he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek ready to round the table back to his seat. Before he can, you tilt your chin up, wordlessly asking for more. He smiles, his lips soft against yours, and then reluctantly pulls back. You take a sip of the tea— made just how you like it—and a silly giddiness is bubbling up inside.
“Thank you, Jamie,” you whisper, smiling softly, making sure not to disturb Sirius.
“You’re welcome, gorgeous,” he replies with a wink, dropping back into his seat.
Remus, ever the peacemaker, reaches across the table to take Sirius’s hand in both of his, trying to calm his boyfriend.
“Pads, it's not that big of a deal that it wasn't in stock, if you order it you can always use James’ until it arrives” Remus consoles.
Sirius seems less tense now, it's mainly from Remus’ touch and not from what he says though you think.
“No offense to you Jamie,” Sirius begins with a dramatic roll of his eyes, “you know I love you and I think your hair is very pretty, but the last time I used your products, my hair looked like a bloody bird’s nest.” James couldn't look less offended, all pleased with himself at being called pretty by the Sirius Black.
“Wait, you’re talking about your fancy curl stuff?” you ask, already moving to grab your bag from where you'd set it down, a light chuckle escaping your lips at how worked up he’s gotten.
Sirius’s response is immediate and petulant. “Yes, obviously. I’m talking about that.”
You hear a light-hearted groan from James and Remus, but you just laugh.
“I stopped and bought some on the way here,” you say nonchalantly, “I noticed you were running low last time I stayed over.”
You expect a simple reaction, but when you turn to face them, all three of your boyfriends are looking at you as if you’ve just performed some sort of magic. Their gazes are filled with awe and adoration.
Sirius is the first to break the stunned silence. He stands abruptly, crossing the room in two long strides to gather you into a tight hug. His lips are warm against your forehead as he presses kiss after kiss to your skin.
“Thank you, Dolly,” he says while showering your head in kisses.
“This is why you're my favourite” he whispers loud enough for the other boys to hear. From across the table, Remus and James groan in protest, and you can’t help the delighted laugh that bursts from you.
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let me know what you think of this! I love any feedback! <3
#flo'sfics#marauders era#marauders fics#marauders au#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders fic#remus lupin x reader#poly!marauders fluff#sirius black x reader#james potter x reader#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders fanfiction#remus lupin fanfiction#james potter fic#sirius black fluff#poly!marauders blurb#poly!marauders x y/n
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on my mind
Ah!! Here it is, I hope you all love it. Pls keep in mind an exhausted doctoral student wrote this with little reviews/edits hehe
Summary: After months of secretly pining over Wilson, you find something suggesting he might feel the same way. Despite it all, curiosity gets the best of you and what you get is far beyond anything you ever fantasized about.
Pairing: James Wilson (House, MD) x Fem!Reader
Content Warning: very self-indulgent smut, 18+ content (NSFW/NSFM) / brief mention of past infidelity, mutual pining, sexual fantasization, slight age gap, fingering, oral (f receiving), cunnilingus, vaginal sex, office sex, desk sex, threat of exhibition, unprotected sex (pls wrap it up), body worship, breeding, soul connection, porn WITH plot and feelings
Word Count: 7.8k
here is the ao3 link if that’s your preferred site
Wilson didn’t have the best romantic track record when you reflected on it, standing outside his office, debating whether or not to knock.
That was what Cameron had told you on the first day consulting the team as a new psychologist at PPTH, when she caught you trying not to stare.
You had been so engaged in observing how the diagnostic team battled through a differential before he arrived. The quick exchange of wits and sly remarks was so enthralling, you couldn’t look away. Until something else distracted you…
The door swung open, and in walked a man who carried himself with an effortless kind of charm. His brown hair appeared perfectly tousled, but still neat enough to be professional, like he had absentmindedly run a hand through it just before coming in. His white coat, crisp and clean, hung open just enough to reveal a comfortably fitting dress shirt and a tie that was loosened ever-so-slightly.
As he stepped into the conference room, he seemed to be already three steps ahead in the conversation he was about to join — like this heated exchange was something he’d been witnessing for years. He paused, silently observing Foreman and House trade intellectually sarcastic banter. As the exchange died down, his eyes met yours. His sharp features softened as he looked at you with curiosity, the hint of a dimple appearing as his lips curved into a playful smirk.
“You know, House, I’m impressed,” he joked, tapping House’s cane with his foot. “It only took you this long to admit you need some serious psychological help.”
His warm brown eyes flicked back to you, winking, amusement lingering just beneath the surface.
A scoff escaped House, followed by a characteristic retort, “I’m not admitting anything, Wilson. Besides, I wouldn’t want you getting jealous watching someone else take the job you volunteered for all these years.”
You couldn’t help but chuckle, despite knowing so little about their dynamic. Apparently, you were not alone in this reaction, as the rest of the team seemed to find House’s response amusing, likely because it was true.
“James Wilson, Head of Oncology,” he said, rolling his eyes at House’s comment. “You must be Dr. Y/L/N. I’ve heard good things from your new colleagues.”
His hand extended towards you welcomingly. Despite a flutter of nerves beneath the surface, you shook it, hoping your feigned confidence wasn’t too obvious.
“Y/N’s fine,” you responded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Dr. Y/L/N has always felt a bit too formal for me.” Your gaze held his for a brief moment, feeling the subtle weight of the connection. A soft gasp escaped your lips, despite trying so desperately to keep it in.
“Y/N,” Wilson repeated softly with a smug smile.
He held your hand just a moment longer than necessary. When he finally released it, the hold he had on you remained. There was something magnetic about him, making it impossible to draw your gaze away as he repositioned himself against the wall. You blinked a few times to ground yourself, quickly glancing down at the file in your hand before instinctively looking up at him again. His eyes caught yours and his smirk deepened ever so slightly, as if he’d caught you giving away exactly what you hadn’t meant to. He appeared to take quiet pleasure in the fact that, for just a moment, you were completely distracted by him… but you were certain that was just wishful thinking getting the best of you.
It was then that Cameron leaned towards you, voice in a low whisper, “Careful with that look — you don’t want to end up in the ex wives club.”
You raised your eyebrows in surprise, not only at the fact that he was divorced but that it seemed to be more than once.
Cameron nodded matter-of-factly, subtly mouthing the word “three” as she held up the same number of fingers under the table before gathering her things to head to the patient’s room.
While you felt the warning in her comment, it didn’t deter you much over the coming months. After all, it was highly unlikely that Wilson would even share your feelings. Despite this, there was something magnetic about his presence, and you often found yourself running into him, both accidentally and — more than you would like to admit — on purpose.
You had bought each other lunch in the cafeteria on a few occasions and took time to chat at least every couple of days. Even when you didn’t run into each other for a few days, both of you exchanged small reminders. One time, when you spent all day managing a patient in psychosis from the emergency department, he left a sticky note on your desk that read, "Missed you at lunch. Hope your patient is doing as well as possible. Also, House is being insufferable — rescue me soon?" A few days after that, after Wilson had an emotionally exhausting morning with some of his late stage patients, you had appeared at his office door with a cup of coffee exactly how he liked it (sickeningly sweet), offering no explanation other than a casual, "Figured you could use a pick-me-up." These exchanges became regular but still made your day every time.
There were quieter moments too, ones that lingered in your mind long after they happened. A late-night conversation in the breakroom when both of you had been too exhausted to keep up pretenses, speaking in hushed voices over lukewarm chamomile tea. A touch that lasted a fraction longer than necessary when he passed you a patient folder for a consultation he requested. Playful glances exchanged across the hallway after House made some inappropriate joke at his expense. Small pick-me-ups scratched onto sticky notes and left on desks or forgotten items.
But today, something a bit different occurred. By the time you finally got back to your office late in the day, you found a vanilla bean scone from the café waiting for you on your desk, a thoughtful surprise he had left earlier that morning. It was nothing out of the ordinary until you saw, across the brown paper, scribbled in pen, a note that read: Saw this and thought of you. Can’t seem to stop doing that lately. Come by my office soon?
At first, you thought he was just being normal Wilson — friendly, with the touch of flirtatious he has with everyone. That was until you read it a few more times and those moments over the past few weeks replayed in your mind over and over. You had been thinking of him incessantly from the moment you first saw him, but always tried to keep it professional. His note to come by sounded charged in your mind, more suggestive than any of your previous conversations. You contemplated his intentions for longer than you would like to admit, but figured you would never truly know unless you asked.
Which is exactly how you ended up here, in front of his office, two cups of coffee in hand, torn between knocking and shamefully walking back to your office. The hum of the hospital growing quiet as the typical business day came to a close.
There was no way he was serious… was he? It was probably just some stupid bet he had made with House. God, that would be embarrassing. Maybe you should just leave the coffee and accept that your relationship would only ever be a friendship. When all those inner arguments (and more) failed to motivate you to turn and head to your office, you thought back to that conversation with Cameron. Even if he was serious, it was unlikely to last. You didn’t want to end up hurt like so many times before… but you were interested to see where this went.
Curiosity is what did you in… so, you knocked. So, what if it’s what killed the cat? “Come in!” his voice called, slightly muffled from the other side.
You hesitantly step inside, jumping a bit as you hear the door click behind you. You had barely stepped into his office before Wilson glanced up from his desk, his expression shifting from slightly stressed to pleased when he saw it was you.
“And here I thought my afternoon was going to be boring,” he said, standing to meet you by the door.
You lift the coffee cup slightly, before handing it to him, “Just returning the favor.”
He raised his brow in curiosity, leaning back to rest against his desk. “Oh, is that all?”
His feigned disappointment was laced with more flirtation than you had noticed before.
You shook your head silently, glancing down at the floor as you felt an embarrassed blush spread across your cheeks.
“Your note,” you say, barely above a whisper, “...intrigued me.”
That got his attention, pausing from taking a sip of the beverage you brought.
“Oh?” His smirk turned curious as he scanned you up and down. “How so?”
You hesitated, but only for a second, “You’ve really been thinking about me?”
You brought your eyes to meet his as you finished your question, masking your nerves by tightening your fingers around your cup of coffee. When your eyes met him, the look on Wilson’s face was a mix of amusement and satisfaction.
“Well, that depends,” Wilson responds, sitting the cup down and crossing his arms across his chest. “Would saying yes make me seem endearing… or deeply concerning?”
You tilt your head, feigning consideration as you build your confidence. “Hmmm… that depends on just how much you’ve been thinking about me.”
A moment of silence passed as Wilson pondered his answer, breaking it with deep breath and a step towards you.
His grin deepened, and he leaned a little closer, admitting. “More than I should, really.”
Your stomach fluttered. You hadn’t expected him to admit it so easily, so effortlessly… or even at all. The part of you that wondered if the note had been some bet was fading, but you couldn’t help expressing your doubt even as your heart pounded into your throat.
“You’re not just… messing with me, right? This isn’t some House-ordained social experiment, is it?” Your voice was softer than you had desired, hesitation dominating your tone. You wanted to believe him more than anything, but you knew better than to take things at face value when House might be involved.
Wilson studied you for a long moment, his expression nearly unreadable, except for the flicker of something undeniably heated in his eyes.
“Is that what you think?” His voice is noticeably lower than before, still smooth and warm. “No, no… this isn’t some bet. If House was putting me up to this, don’t you think it would’ve been months ago?”
He did have a point.
Wilson tilted his head slightly, his smirk deepening as he watched you consider his argument. Then, he slowly brushed his fingertips against the edge of the desk he rested upon, fingers tapping twice, as if considering his next words carefully. Or maybe he was just giving you time to process the shift in the air between you, which had become quickly thick and charged.
"Though if it was, I would’ve lost already," he stated matter-of-factly, bringing himself to stand up right, taking a step towards you. “Because this is painfully real for me.” His gaze flickered over your face, lingering for just a beat too long at your lips before returning to your eyes.
You swallowed, heat creeping up your neck. "What is, exactly?"
Wilson exhaled a quiet chuckle, the sound richer, deeper than his usual easy amusement, “You really have no idea, do you?”
You shook your head, any idea of what he meant absent from your mind.
"The way I catch myself looking for you even when I know you’re not there.” Wilson’s breath came slow and measured, but you could feel the tension humming beneath it, the weight of his restraint barely holding. “The way I think about you when I know I shouldn’t.”
Wilson stepped even closer, rolling the sleeves of his dress shirt up as he thought silently. Your breath caught as you shamelessly notice the veins in his arm becoming more pronounced, the subtle flex of his hand accentuating the tension coiling beneath his skin.
"I tell myself to stop," Wilson admitted, his tone almost confessional. "That it’s unprofessional, that I should focus on work... But then you walk into the room or I hear your voice, and suddenly, I don’t care about anything else."
“Wh-what do you think of?” You asked breathlessly, looking back into his eyes.
He didn’t respond at first, a conflicted look replaced his previous vulnerability. Wilson took the coffee from your grip, gently placing it on the desk next to his before stepping back towards you. He appeared deep in thought, the crease between his brows deepening as they furrowed and he brought his hand to briefly cover his mouth. His warm brown eyes flickered over your face, searching, as if debating how much he should give away.
Then after what felt like an eternity, he spoke, slowly and steadily, “It was small things at first. How the first day we met, your quiet laugh was so genuine and radiant.” Wilson cautiously raised his hand to barely brush fingers through the hair that hugs your cheeks. “Or how you sucked in a little breath when I said your name for the first time…”
You dart your eyes away from him, feeling simultaneous embarrassment and surprise. “I, oh — that wasn’t subtle was it?”
He shook his head with a quiet chuckle, a knowing smirk appearing across his lips.
“Not at all,” Wilson teased, bringing his fingertips to caress your neck. “Should I keep going?”
You nod quickly, likely a bit too enthusiastic. His arms came up by your ears to brace the door behind you, making your heart thud in your chest even harder.
A low hum came from his throat before continuing, “Then I started to notice how your perfume would linger after you left me.” He held still for a moment, stiff with restraint. “It’s so intoxicating… I swear it follows me all day.”
As Wilson finished his sentence, his face buried into your hair and one of his hands dropped to grip your hip. Your breath hitched at his touch as his breath warmed you, shifting from beside your ear to the curve of your neck.
“J-James,” you gasped, a near moan as his breath tickled against your skin, lips so close to touching flesh.
“I’ve tried not to think about all of it, Y/N,” he whispered deeply, barely audible. “I promise, I really have.”
The hold he had upon your hips moved to nest in the small of your back, pulling you closer to him.
“I’ve tried to distance myself, stay professional,” Wilson explained with a tone of desperation, bringing his eyes back to meet yours. “But then I’d always end up coming back… asking you to lunch or finding something, anything, that I could use to get a consultation from you.”
“So, what you're saying is... you’ve been using work to get closer to me?” You let a playful smile slip through, despite your nerves standing on end.
Wilson’s gaze softened, sincerity behind his eyes. “Is that so bad?” His voice was low, almost questioning. “Because, honestly… I couldn’t help myself. Every excuse I found — every consultation or referral or accidental cafeteria meet up — was just an excuse to see you. To be close to you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
The air around you seemed to thicken with the confession, and your breath hitched, feeling the weight of his words pressing against you. His honesty disarmed you, and you found yourself drawn in closer, despite the unspoken tension.
“And you know what?” Wilson asked, his hand in the small of your back spreading open to feel you even closer. “I’m pretty sure you’ve been thinking about me, too.”
“I —,” you breathe, a chill crawling up your spine. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”
Of course you did.
“Don’t play coy with me,” Wilson said with a bit of bite in his tone.
His thumb traced a slow, deliberate path along your jawline, tilting your chin just enough to where you could not avoid his gaze, a knowing look in his eyes.
“You think I haven’t noticed?” His voice was softer now, rich with quiet amusement. “The way you look at me when you think I won’t catch you?”
You opened your mouth to protest, but Wilson only hummed, bringing his thumb to press against your bottom lip.
“Or how you always seem to find a reason to stay just a little longer when we talk,” he continued, his face looming closer to yours. “Like you don’t really want to leave.”
You never realized he had been paying attention to any of that, or really that you had acted on your internal feelings so obviously.
Wilson’s fingers pressed just a little firmer into your waist, bringing your body flush against you. His body was soft and warm against yours.
You swallowed hard, words unsaid stuck tied in your throat. There was no escape from the truth pressing against your ribs, demanding to be spoken. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt before you could stop yourself, gripping just enough to steady yourself.
“I do,” you admitted, voice hushed. “I - I think about you… all of the time.”
You looked up at him through your lashes. Relief washes over him, relaxing the tension in his shoulder and softening his facial expressions. however, the look of desire in his eyes did not fade.
“I thought so,” he murmured, voice lacking its usual teasing lilt. Instead, he sounded almost relieved. “And how do you think about me?”
You swallowed, feeling the weight of his question settle between you. It was so very “Wilson” — turning your own question back to you.
Your fingers stroked against his tie as you thought, evading his gaze. “The same as you — I think about you when I shouldn’t be,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “When I’m supposed to be working. I think of you whenever something good happens… or something bad, and I need to tell someone. When I see something and I wish you were there to see it too.” You bite your bottom lip, pulse thrumming wildly beneath your skin. Then, you barely mumble, “And — I think about you when I’m alone at night...”
Though your voice trails off at the end, Wilson’s body language shows that he heard exactly what you said. He closed his eyes, inhaling sharply, his grip at your waist tightening for just a moment, relaxing again as he exhaled slowly. As he opened his eyes, they were darker, his pupils blown with an unspoken hunger, yearning that simmered just beneath the surface.
The weight of your quiet confession hung between you, making the whole room charged. For once, he didn’t have a quick-witted remark, no teasing quip to defuse the moment. Instead, he reached up, his knuckles brushing along your cheek, his touch achingly gentle.
“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he whispered. There was no real warning in his tone, but rather a slight hint of desperation.
You tilted your head into his touch. “Why not?”
His gaze flickered down to your mouth, lingering there for just a second too long before he looked back into your eyes. “Because,” he said, pausing momentarily, his face riddled with confliction, “...it makes it very, very hard to resist you.”
A rush of heat engulfs every inch of your body, making it nearly impossible to think. Before you can, your fingers dance across the fabric of his tie.
“Then don’t,” you respond quietly, the last bit of uncertainty melting away as the words escape your lips.
He didn’t move, which you had somewhat expected him to. You could feel the weight of his restraint, so tense it could snap at any moment. His jaw was clenched, as though he was just barely holding it together.
You didn’t want to wait anymore. You wanted him to crumble — you needed him to.
With a sharp breath, you curled your fingers tighter around his tie. You thought for only a split second before pulling him down to you with a sudden, desperate urgency that surprised both of you. Before could even think to hesitate, your lips, finally, crashed into his.
The moment your lips met, it was as if a dam had broken inside him. You felt the weight of everything Wilson had been holding back in that kiss — the hunger, the frustration, the overwhelming need. His hand that cupped your lower back pulled you in tighter, while the other cupped your cheek, ensuring you couldn’t break away from his kiss. Wilson’s lips were so soft yet demanding, the hint of sweet coffee on his tongue as he coaxed you open, exploring you with a raw intensity. His breath was hot against your mouth between kisses. A low, needy groan came from him as he deepened your embrace, motivating your entire body to react, heat pooling in familiar, secret places.
The rhythm of the kiss became frantic, desperate, each movement clumsy and raw, breaths coming in quick, uneven gasps. You could feel the loss of control in every touch, every trembling sigh that escaped your lips. Your hands gripped his shirt, pulling him closer with need. He obliged, his fingers tracing feverishly from your back to your waist, skimming upward to your ribcage, then to the curve of your breast, each touch sending jolts of heat through your body.
Then, Wilson’s lips reluctantly left yours, only to trace the line of your jaw with messy kisses, his breath erratic. “Y/N,” he said between kisses, nearly begging. “I can’t… you have to tell me to stop.”
You shook your head, against his request. “Not a chance, James,” you breathed, your voice raw with need. The next words felt like they were ripped from your soul, a silent plea to let go, to fully give in to what had been brewing for months before. “Don't stop. Please – don’t stop.”
Wilson’s lips found yours again, rougher this time, his hands clutching you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. Wilson pushed you further against the wall, lifting you up just slightly so his hips aligned with yours.
There was an undeniable ache between your legs, where the heat had gathered earlier, beginning to throb and grow slick with need. Your desire for friction was so overwhelming, you hadn’t even noticed your hips rolling into his with desperation until Wilson groaned, low and guttural, separating your kiss once more.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stop?” he asked, his words soft and just centimeters away from your lips.
“I’m sure,” You nod with reassurance. “Because this,” you whisper against his cheek, the heat of your breath brushing against his ear, “is just the beginning of what I think about when I’m alone.” The words were more than a confession, but also a promise and a challenge all at once.
“Christ, are you trying to kill me?” Wilson muttered, words laden with shock.
He dipped his head lower, pressing open-mouth kisses from your lips down the nape of your neck and onto your collarbone. His hands began to explore further, tugging your blouse from its tucked position, slipping his finger beneath the fabric. The built up tension made his touch sting, sending a shiver down your spine and the heat beneath your legs becoming practically unbearable.
“Please, James,” you whimper, a handful of his hair and the other dipping down, applying friction in an attempt to relieve your need.
He drew back, studying the quiet plea upon your face and your hand trembling against your still-clothed center, attempting to find satisfaction as you rocked your hips. You could only imagine how pitiful you looked, but it was entirely overwhelming for Wilson. His breath caught in his throat and he fell to his knees, lips parted with desire and his brown doe eyes looking up, with an expression that was almost fawning.
Wilson reached behind you to find the handle of his office door, which he clicked into the lock position. Still on his knees, he watched you silently for a few more seconds, admiring the look upon your face. Your brows furrowed in desperation, soft grunts escaping your lips, as you unsuccessfully searched for your release. He stared up at you, soaking it all in.
Then, suddenly, both his hands gripped the fabric on the outer sides of your thighs, shifting your skirt upwards to your waist and revealing your shamelessly soaked panties. The sudden rush of air hitting your sex made you gasp, chills climbing up your stomach and hardening your nipples.
Before you could fully process the atmosphere overwhelming your senses, Wilson brought his pointer finger to slowly glide over the damp spot of your underwear, running perfectly between your covered folds. As he reached your clit, your breath hitched, prompting a teasing smirk to grow across his cheeks.
“Now,” he sighed, still basking in the sight. “I’m going to show you what I’ve thought about doing to you,” he paused, placing a gentle kiss against your mound, before continuing slowly, “…Every. Single. Time. You wear a skirt like this.”
A moan escapes you as his fingers hook on either side of your underwear, pulling them down to expose you entirely. Instinctively, you kick them off your ankles.
“God, you’re so…,” Wilson places careless kisses against your thighs, admiring your bare pussy before him, “so perfect.”
You look down at him, reveling at the sight of your pussy on full display. Just as you wrap your fingers in his hair, he lunges forward, pressing his lips against your clit, bracing your back with one hand, and spreading your thighs open with the other. Your legs go weak as his tongue darts out and begins lapping at you relentlessly. The mix of his soft lips intermittently sucking your clit and the deep pressure of his fingers digging into your flesh, is so consuming that you absentmindedly tighten your grip on Wilson’s hair. You begin pushing and pulling him while bucking your hips into his mouth, fighting desperately to reach your climax.
He can sense your need, which is reflected as his tongue begins to flick more methodically against your clit in addition to providing suction. His dominant hand joins his mouth, one finger massaging your entrance before slipping between your folds. Your body responds almost immediately, becoming even more aroused as he introduces a second finger, pumping you with a complementary rhythm to the one he is devouring you with.
The sensation is so overwhelming that there are tears in your eyes, and cry-like whimpers escape softly from your mouth. “P-please, I’m so close.”
He maintains his pace, but curls his fingers just enough to find the exact spot where you needed stimulation most. Looking down at him, seeing his mouth full of you and his pupils blown wide with desire is too much to handle. His lips provide deep suction against your swollen clit and the tension burning in your stomach releases. You are overcome with pleasure as you ride out your orgasm on Wilson’s face, his fingers and tongue still putting in work to ensure he can lap up every last drop.
When you were finally able to catch your breath, your legs were impossibly weak. You steadied yourself against Wilson’s body as he rose to his feet, a look of teasing satisfaction on his face.
“You taste so sweet," he hummed, his voice low and lustful. He pulled you flush against him, the heat between you both rising with every second. As his tongue flicked against yours, you could taste yourself mixed with him, the fire inside you burning brighter with every passing second. He groaned softly as you deepened the kiss as if he couldn’t help himself anymore.
You pulled back, barely able to catch your breath, lips swollen from the intensity of his kiss. "You know, I did expect you to be a giver," you teased, running your tongue over your lips. "But that… that was better than anything I ever imagined."
“That’s because I’ve been obsessed with the idea of what you’d taste like…,” he breathed, his words thick with need, “And the scent of you… God - I’ve been dreaming about it, craving it, for months now.” He couldn’t stop himself from groaning, the raw honesty in his admission pushing you to pull him down by his tie, lips crashing together again in a messy, heated kiss.
You broke away after a few moments, breathing heavily, a smile curling on your lips as you slowly pulled his tie loose. “Well, since one of your fantasies has been fulfilled," you sighed, tone heavy with teasing lust, “it’s only fair that one of mine gets to be, too. Don’t you think?”
You look up at him through half-lidded eyes. There were so many thoughts that had run through your mind — so many fantasies you’d envisioned over and over again, but there was one that had played over and over in your mind far more than the rest.
For a moment, he was mute with anticipation, admiring how your fingers began to undo the buttons of his dress shirt. By the time words finally break from his throat, one of your hands is caressing down his chest, the other grazing along the waistline of his pants.
“I’ll give you anything, whatever you want.” He assures, reaching to cup your cheek. Pressing his forehead to yours, he closes his eyes for a moment, trying to steady himself, but his voice cracks as he pleads in a near whisper, “Just tell me — but don’t stop touching me, please.”
His plea is so raw, so desperate, it makes your heart race, your pulse quickening in response. You can feel the weight of his need, how much he’s willing to surrender, and it sends a wave of satisfaction through you. You can’t help but feel a deep sense of accomplishment hearing the vulnerability and desperation in his voice.
You let your fingers trail over his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your touch. A slow, teasing smirk grows across your face as you lock eyes with him. “I’ve been thinking about this for months, you know.”
His breath catches, his pupils dilating as his gaze flickers to your lips. The heat between you both is undeniable, and the anticipation thickens.
“Tell me... tell me what you’ve been thinking,” he mutters with desperation.
You lean in closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you speak, your words a slow, tantalizing whisper, “I’ve been imagining you… having your way with me, right here on your office desk.”
The words hang in the air and you watch as his body reacts, muscles tightening and his throat bobbing with a heavy swallow.
"I’ve imagined you pushing me onto this desk, your hands all over me, taking control, claiming me,” you hum, bringing your hand to brush against the bulge in his pants. “No hesitation. Just you, making me lose myself in you."
A deep groan escapes his lips, your words and touch unraveling him. Wilson’s eyes squeeze shut as he tilts his head back as if he’s struggling to regain some sense of control. Then, without warning, his lips crash against yours. His kiss is frantic, starved for you. His hands grip you, sliding up your back, threading through your hair, pressing you so close it’s like he wants you under his skin.
"You have no idea," he moans between kisses, breath hot and uneven, "how many times I’ve wanted this, too. How many times I’ve thought about throwing everything off this desk and putting you right where you belong — right under me.”
The words send chills down your spine, desire coiling tight in your stomach. His hands are already moving, feverish and impatient, pushing under your clothes, dragging his fingertips over every sliver of bare skin he can reach. You gasp into his mouth as his grip tightens around your waist.
Then, in one swift motion, Wilson’s hands slide down to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto the desk. The sound of scattered papers and objects hitting the floor barely registers before he’s on you again, mouth crashing against yours, feverish and insatiable, his tongue sweeping in, tasting, teasing, like he’s trying to devour every gasp, every moan.
His hands roam with an urgency that borders on worship — gripping, kneading, learning every inch of you that he’s been deprived of for far too long. Then, with a low, needy groan, his fingers find the hem of your blouse, tugging it up, over your torso, leaving your top nearly bare before him. The fabric is barely gone before his lips descend, hot, open-mouthed kisses trailing down your neck, over your collarbone. A sharp gasp comes from your throat as chills scatter across the tops of your breasts, your skin prickling at the contrast of the cool air and the heat of his breath.
Wilson takes a slow, deliberate step back, his gaze raking over you like he’s trying to memorize every inch of the sight before him. His chest rises and falls, his lips still parted from your last kiss. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, his fingers move to his belt. The slow slide of leather through the loops is deliberate. His knuckles graze his waistband as he pulls the belt free, the flex of muscle beneath his sleeves hinting at the tension coiling just beneath his skin.
As Wilson tosses his belt to the ground, the air feels thicker, heavier, expectation crackling between you, leaving you breathless with want. You have truly never felt this aroused in your life, your heart rate quickening, muscles tense, and every sensitive part of you swollen with desire. You never expected that you would ever really be laying on top of Wilson’s desk, watching him undress and waiting for him to take advantage of your body — let alone that he had thought about it, too.
As he moves back towards you, slacks now undone, you can’t help but notice the outline of his prominent erection straining beneath his boxer briefs. You reach out to touch him, but he meets you first — his hands slipping under your skirt, fingers digging into your skin before drawing the fabric down your legs. As the garment falls to the ground, Wilson kisses up your legs and to your torso, caressing every part he does not touch with his lips with his fingertips. Eventually, he meets your breasts, still guarded by your bra, placing kisses along the valley between them. He then cups both of them with his hands before sliding behind you to unhook the final bit of clothing that was keeping you from being completely nude before him.
As Wilson pulled the thin barrier of fabric from your body, his warm hand replaced the supportive cups that protected your tender breasts. His eyes linger on your chest, admiring as it rises and falls, thumbs grazing over your hardened nipples. Your breath seizes in your throat as he takes one into his mouth, suction pulling between gentle flicks of his tongue.
As much pleasure as you feel in this moment, you can’t help but remember Wilson’s bulge, hard and twitching just underneath a layer of cloth. You sit forward, propping yourself up on your forearms, prompting a perplexed look from Wilson who was reluctantly releasing his mouth from your breast.
“Everything okay?” he inquires, catching his breath.
You do not answer him with words, instead you lean forward and bring your palm to press softly against his bulge. Wilson’s eyes squeezed shut, mouth parted in a struggle between ache and pleasure as a grunt escaped him. He was full and swollen as you gripped him firmly through his briefs, precum staining the fabric darker.
You kiss his chest softly as you sneak your hand beneath his waistband. His flesh was hot as your fingers danced across his erection, which jerked in response. You wrap your hand around him, savoring how strained and tense his thick cock feels, before bringing your thumb to glide down the slit.
“I need to feel you inside of me,” you insist with a begging tone, eyes fluttering up at him with need.
Before any words come from his lips, his dick is already out and Wilson is stroking it with painfully slow, drawn-out motions. The head of his cock is swollen and flushed and a prominent vein on the underside is near-throbbing with with every motion.
“God, yes,” he groaned in agreement with your request, before pulling you down closer to the edge of the desk. “Spread yourself open for me, beautiful.”
Without taking time to think, you separate your legs, bringing your fingers down to glide through your slickness. Wilson revels in the sight, but still moves towards you — his earlier restraint melted away entirely. Placing one hand on your thigh, he uses the other to guide his cock to massage between your labia, tip grazing against your clit, sending shock-like waves of pleasure through you. He stays there for a moment, gliding himself through your folds, properly preparing both of you before lining up with your entrance.
You lock eyes, both of your faces twisted with anticipation and desperation, as he begins to sink into you with a pace so slow and deliberate it is nearly excruciating. At the same time, you were grateful for this patient approach, as the thickness of his cock stretches you out, creating the perfect mix of pain and pleasure across every inch of your body.
“Y/N,” Wilson cries in a hushed whisper, nearly half-way inside of you. “Y-you’re so tight a-and warm… damn.”
You moan in satisfaction at his words, hands searching for something to hold onto as you unravel beneath him. Seeing your fingers wrap around the edge of the desk, Wilson reaches one hand down to intertwine with yours. There is something intimate and touching about how he holds your hand as he presses deeper into you, true care mixing into this moment of raw lust.
As he bottoms out, feeling the base of his dick against your pussy, your free hand clings to his back, fingernails digging into the skin beneath his shoulder blades. Wilson fills you perfectly, stretching you just enough to still surround him like a sheath. You have never felt this full before, which makes you even more aroused, bucking your hips to grind your clit against his groin. It must look utterly pitiful, but you can’t help but search for friction.
“Fuck, you’re stretching me out so good,” you whine, pitch higher than before and laced with pleasure.
Looking up for reassurance, you see Wilson’s face is blown with pleasure, slack-jawed and brows knit together, pupils blown. “You’re perfect,” he mumbles, slowly pushing the first full thrust into you.
It doesn’t take long for him to build up the pace, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease, despite your walls attempting to cling to him with every entrance and exit.
Despite the pace being steady and his strokes being deep enough you feel them in your stomach, there is something so soft in the way Wilson fucks you — more as if it wasn’t fucking at all, but more like making love. His eyes look over you with admiration, like he’s soaking in every motion of your body, and the hand not holding yours roams freely across your skin, frequently nestling fingers against your aching clit. When a cry escapes you as he begins rubbing it in figure eights, he presses a kiss to your lips — not only to muffle the sound but as an indication that he loves to make you feel this way.
He whispers against your lips as he breaks the kiss. “You feel amazing, better than anything I ever dreamed…” You feel him trembling with overwhelm as he continues breathlessly. “I-I’ve never felt — fuck — any pussy as perfect as yours.”
“James,” you gasp, feeling his dick hit against the most sensitive area inside you. “Please, keep going… r-right there.”
Wilson nods eagerly, in surrendering agreement, “Anything you want, my love. I’ll do anything for you.”
He keeps true to his promise, continuing the same pressure and angle of his thrusts until you’re completely undone beneath him — vision blurry and every inch of your body nearly numb with pleasure. The only thing keeping you grounded is your back against wood and his hand still holding yours.
You can barely form thoughts, let alone words when he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking on them needily and grunting enough that low vibrations hum against your chest. Every inch of you was buzzing with pleasure, but you felt the familiar pressure grow deep within you.
“I - I’m going to cum,” you manage to say, looking down at him with pleading eyes.
Wilson releases his latch from your breast, barely taking time to catch his breath when he provides a pressured reply, “Please, please cum on my cock. Shit — I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.”
His permission is all you need to let go as he keeps up his pace, working your clit relentlessly with his free hand. Your eyes roll back into your head as the sensation of heat rushes across your trembling thighs, walls clenching around Wilson’s thick cock as you cum. The pressure slowly lessens and your clit is throbbing from overstimulation when you come back to reality, your mind still foggy in bliss.
“That was so fucking hot,” Wilson whines, face scrunched with the sweet agony of pleasure. You can tell he’s close, before he even tells you, through strained breaths. “Y/N — tell me where I can cum. I’m so close, please.”
“Cum in me,” you beg, consumed with feverish need. “I’m on the pill. Baby, please — fucking fill me with your cum.”
A guttural groan leaves Wilson’s lips as he hears your request, his dick twitching inside of you. “Christ — yes. I was hoping you’d say that.”
With a few more strokes, you feel him become rigid inside of you and his breath hitches in his throat as he releases inside of you. The warmth of his cum coating your walls sends a rush of bliss throughout your body, a soft yet satisfied smile growing across your face.
You both try to catch your breath as you come down from your shared high, soaking in the last seconds of being physically one. As Wilson’s tense body relaxes, he nearly collapses on top of you, bare chests still heaving and sweat-laden pressed against one another. You’re both exhausted, yet idyllically happy. You run your fingers through his now-damp hair as his breath slowly returns to a normal pattern.
The quiet hum of the room settles around you and the faint rustle of fabric begins to fill the air. You both begin to dress, but the heat between you lingers, tangible and unspoken. As you pull your skirt up over your hips, the soft fabric brushing against your skin, you instinctively glance at him. His eyes are fixed on you, intense, almost reverent, as if he wanted every moment, every movement, etched into his mind. The tenderness in his stare is enough to make your heart race like he's memorizing every inch of you, this closeness, this shared silence.
You gather your hair, pulling it into a ponytail, a vain attempt to fix the mess it’s become. As your fingers complete the final loop, Wilson steps towards you, cupping your face with his hands and bringing you in for a tender kiss. His thumb traces your cheek with a tenderness so light, it feels almost like a whisper. Your fingers weave through his hair, drawing him closer, as if you’re aching to be closer, wanting to melt into him, as if he hadn’t just been inside you. The moment is quiet and brief — but feels like an eternity. You both linger in it, savoring the silence that speaks volumes.
As the kiss ends, the absence of his lips on yours leaves a hollow ache, but it is almost immediately remedied when he speaks. “Come home with me?” Wilson asks, his voice wrapped in a quiet, inviting warmth.
His eyes search yours, steady and sincere, yet there’s something more behind it, something vulnerable like he’s offering you a piece of himself. “I’ve wanted this for so long... wanted you,” he says in a near-whisper, his tone thick with emotion. “Now that I’ve had you... I can’t stand the thought of letting you go.”
The sensitivity in his voice makes your heart race, his words carrying all the unspoken hopes you’ve both held onto these past few months. You let the moment stretch between you, just enough to collect yourself, but not long enough to let the fear of doubt slip into his mind.
“Of course, I’ll come with you,” you respond quietly, your voice filled with affection as you press a gentle kiss to his flushed cheek. “I don’t want to be anywhere but with you. We’ve both waited long enough for this, haven’t we?”
A soft, almost disbelieving smile appears on his face, as he threads his fingers gently around yours. “I’m so glad you said that,” he sighs in relief, his voice thick with sincerity.
“I’m yours, James,” you assure him, squeezing his hand in return. "I have been for a long time.”
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that,” he murmurs in a pleased tone, a look of admiration beaming down at you.
“I think you’ve shown me that tonight,” you reply with a slight tease. The months of longing, of stolen glances and unspoken feelings, all seem to settle into this one moment—solid, certain, and undeniably real. “Take me home?”
His smile deepens, tender and unguarded as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get out of here,” he says softly, opening his office door.
The silence as you walk hand-in-hand down the hall is no longer heavy with anticipation but is instead filled with something quieter, more certain. Peaceful.
Outside, the cool night air hits your skin, stinging as it contrasts your flushed cheeks. Wilson pulls you close as you walk, his thumb tracing soft circles against the back of your hand. Neither of you speaks, but the silence is full of contentment and understanding. Every glance, every brush of his fingers against yours, a language all its own.
When you reach his car, he pauses, turning to face you as if needing to see you clearly beneath the dim glow of the streetlights. His gaze lingers on your face, soft and searching, before he leans in and presses a tender kiss to your lips, sealing some still-unspoken promise.
“Home,” he whispers breathlessly, the single word carrying more weight than it should. As you settle into the passenger seat beside him, heart thrumming in your chest, you know, deep within you, that you’re finally right where you’re meant to be.
#james wilson#house md#james wilson smut#james wilson x reader#house md fanfiction#house md fandom#james wilson fanfiction#dr wilson#gregory house#house fanfiction#house fandom#x reader#smut#malpractice md#dr james wilson
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begging - april 30 - jegulus - background wolfstar and rosekiller - NSFW (implied sex) - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 314
“Hey, Reg? What did you take from James last night?” Sirius asked as he, Regulus, James, Remus, and a bunch of their other friends settled down in front of the TV in Sirius and James’s apartment to watch a movie.
Regulus gave his brother an odd expression. “What? What d’you mean?”
“Last night! I heard him yelling at you! He was begging you to give something to him!” Sirius insisted, frowning.
Remus, who usually stayed out of these conversations, looked over from picking a film on the TV, mouth opening with realization. “Sirius, maybe leave them alone, eh?” he mumbled after to his boyfriend. Meanwhile, James was sinking into the couch he was sitting on, mortification written all over his face, and Regulus was looking thoroughly amused.
“No, he was!” Sirius insisted. “He kept saying ‘please’ over and over! Honestly Reg, we all know Prongs likes it when you’re mean to him, that’s half the reason he’s dating you, but you should let up on him a little.”
“Please don’t,” James mumbled, face half-hidden in his hands, while Regulus all-out smirked in triumph.
But the rest of the group, who had been exchanging looks of amusement and glee, could only stay quiet for so long.
“Oi, Rosie! Wanna take something from me later?” Barty yelled out from his spot on the floor, making everyone dissolve into fits of laughter.
This, of course, was enough to tip Sirius off. “What d’you…oh no.” The way his face melted from confusion to disgust would have been comical if Remus wasn’t so worried about his reaction. “James?” he asked softly, voice barely above a whisper, as he stared at his best friend with a horrified look.
But it was Regulus who spoke up. “Don’t worry, Sirius. I gave him exactly what he asked for,” he said, grinning salaciously.
Both Sirius and James groaned, smothering their faces in blankets.
#marauders#harry potter#marauders era#marauders fandom#fanfic#harry potter marauders#the marauders#hp marauders#marauders harry potter#the marauders era#marauder era#marauders fanfiction#marauders fic#sirius black#marauders fanfic#james potter x regulus black#james x regulus#regulus x james#regulus black#regulus black x james potter#jegulus#the black brothers#sirius and regulus#regulus and sirius#black brothers#sirius being sirius#sirius orion black#wolfstar
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