I'm just a girl

Jules | 23 | She/her | chronically tired

[juleswritesstuff]

Hello beautiful people 💕

I realized I started posting without even introducing myself , kinda rude am I right ?

So, hi everyone ! I'm Jules, I'm 23 and I live in Italy, born and raised. I'm a university student (😀🔫) and I love writing, it's one of my main hobbies.

I also love reading and drawing, sometimes I paint or at least I try.

I absolutely LOVE music, it's my main stress reliver and also the easiest way for me to express my feelings and emotions. I listen to pretty much everything and I can't choose a favorite song to save my life, it basically changes daily. (Also, if you noticed, I try to sneak a song title, or a line from a song in the titles of my works 🤭. It's just a little thing that I love doing, and try to do as much as the plots of my works allow me to. It's kinda my way to merge two of my worlds together)

I like movies and TV shows and I'm always in search of something to watch. I'm also into anime, but I haven't watched one in a while unfortunately (finished AOT in November and I still haven't recovered 😃).

I have the softest spot for cats and an obsession with Greek mythology ever since I was little. I'm a huge introvert and socializing is my worst nightmare, but unfortunately I can't be a heremit forever.

I think that's pretty much it. Thank you for reading my work, I am so freaking grateful and honored ❤.

Bye everyone, I'll see you around 💖

[juleswritesstuff]

How I crave you in the morning when the moon is fast asleep.

You're used to James greeting you less than pure good mornings. Oh, how the tables will turn.

James Potter x fem!reader

Warnings: smut (a sprinkle of somnophilia, subby!James and a whole lot of overstimulation)

It's not the kind of tepor that greets him the way sheets do when his senses sharpen just enough to perceive them tangled around him. 

James Potter wakes up to warmth.

It's not the gentle hug of the morning's sunlight filtering through the curtains, bathing the room in its golden hue and surrounding him with its halo.

No, it's different.

It’s heat in its gentlest yet most consuming form.

One he had never thought he would be greeted with first thing in the morning before he even had the chance to open his eyes. 

One he usually reserved for you because you told him you liked the way flames of desire liked your skin before your brain could even register what was happening to your body, the way every cell of your being recognized him even in slumber.

One that he himself never knew he needed or wanted, but found himself subconsciously craving deep inside.

He was engulfed in that same heat when his words had betrayed him.

“Fuck- to wake up every morning to this sweet mouth, love.”

It had been the spurt of the moment, the way your lips looked too good to be true wrapped around his length, the feeling of you surrounding him in the filthiest of embraces clouding his brain and making every single unholy thought swirling in his mind suddenly want to come out raw, unfiltered. Real. 

At least that is what he told himself.

What he realized later, was that it wasn’t an accident, it wasn’t just his brain supplying him with fleeting fantasies or idle slips of lust. He had actually meant every single word that set itself free without his permission.

He would like to think of it as an epiphany, but it wasn’t.

He wasn’t surprised that he craved you every moment of the day.

Every single one.

He relished in your warmth, in each and every shade of it.

In the heat of your embrace, the way your arms and legs wrapped around him in a mess of limbs.

In the way your bodies intertwined, skin burning and glistening with sweat, decorated by the most beautiful shades of crimson and lavender.

In the way he fit so perfectly inside of you, your body accommodating him like it was his temple, his home.

In the way he wanted to lose himself in every kiss, his mouth opening against yours, pliant and hungry and desperate, tongues tangling and following the enticing steps of the most erotic of dances as he got drunk on you with every brush of lips.

In the way your taste coated his tongue as his mouth teased and coaxed, worshipping your heat with a need that bordered on desperation, your hips chasing his mouth, thighs shaking around his head until he forgot about everything that wasn’t you and the exquisite sounds filling his ears while your fire consumed him whole.

He loved those scorching, breathless moments when flames burned the hottest, the brightest. When the world narrowed down to the shudder of your bodies as they melded into one. 

But of course he loved and treasured the quieter ones too. Those fragments of time when the fire between you two wasn’t burning, all-consuming and raging like an unstoppable force of nature; but a gentle, mellow heat caressing his soul.

When your hand sought his under the table, your fingers threading through his, grounding him like you were his personal anchor, the only thing that could keep him tethered even through the most violent of storms.

When you tucked yourself into his side, your silhouette molding to his not with urgency or desire, but with the quiet feeling of home.

When your voice softened every single time you spoke his name, wrapping around him like the coziest of blankets, steadying him especially in those times when the world felt too cold, too sharp.

When your warmth lingered on his skin even long after your touch had left, as though your very presence seeped into his bones.

When every smile you gifted him felt like sunlight breaking through the darkest sky, a warmth that asked for nothing but gave everything.

But he has to admit it’s quite difficult to think about the more wholesome moments when your mouth is busy gracing him with the most sensual alarm anyone could ask for.

He isn’t even sure of when he regained consciousness, at what point all his senses awoke only to zero in on the feeling of you and your perfect, heaven-sent mouth.

Was it the first whisper of your lips down his length, slow and careful like you were savoring him gently?

Or was it when your tongue flicked against the sensitive underside, just the way you knew unraveled him the fastest?

Maybe it was earlier than that, when the mattress dipped slightly around him, the heat of your body settling between his thighs, familiar and irresistible.

Either way, he’s awake now. Wide awake, as a well-known, irresistible need starts simmering in his veins.

But he doesn’t let you know.

His eyes stay closed, lashes lowered and brushing his cheeks like the grip of sleep still has him trapped in the land of dreams, every muscle perfectly still except for the traitorous spasm of his abs tightening and clenching with every stroke of your tongue, with every inch of him you leisurely welcome between your sinful lips.

That, and the betraying twitch of his fingers in the sheets.

Because for all the might with which he is trying not to let you know that he is definitely not sleeping anymore, he doesn’t think he is doing too much of a good job.

And it’s your fault.

All your damn fault for having him wrapped around your finger in every possible way.

Is he complaining about it? Right now —when he’d like to show you that he has at least some restraint— maybe.

Would he ever change it? Fuck no.

He loves being at your mercy just as much as you love being at his.

His pulse is hammering in his throat, his cock already straining and filling up against your tongue as it becomes harder and harder to keep his little act up.

He forces his hands to relax, suppressing every borderline animalistic urge to just bury his fingers in the soft strands of your hair and follow the sultry movement of your head bobbing up and down sensually and almost maddeningly slow while you indulge in his taste like he is the sweetest treat you have ever tried.

God, he should stop you.

He should open his eyes, pull you up to him, kiss you until you’re both breathless and panting and delirious, and then fuck you deep and utterly consuming for the rest of the morning. The whole day even.

The hell to work, to responsibilities, to whatever that’s not you on top of him, under him, in every other position known to man, taking his cock like you bloody deserve, like he can’t help craving.

He should. But he doesn’t. 

He doesn’t want to.

Because the thrill, the forbiddenness of this moment coils tight in his stomach and dries his mouth more than any other fantasy he has ever had.

Waking up to you worshipping him like this, to you thinking you can sneak a taste of him while he supposedly sleeps…he can’t resist the temptation of seeing how far you’ll go.

How long he’ll be able to not give in to the one and only thing he has never been able to resist.

You.

So he lies there, eyes closed, chest rising and falling as steadily as he can master while you take him deeper into his personal paradise.

And fuck, you’re good at this. At driving him on the brick of insanity.

Way too good.

It’s not like he didn’t know. If there’s anyone who is acquainted with just how good you are with that vicious mouth of yours, it’s him.

He’s the one who’s spent countless nights watching you absolutely transfixed as you worked him apart with nothing but lips and tongue.

The one who’s passed hours of his life drowning in the sinful, hell-scorching bliss of you on your knees for him, or bent between his thighs with a glint of hunger in your eyes.

He knows every trick, every purposeful lick, every ungodly sound you’re capable of, because he’s the one you’ve poured such devotion on.

And God help him you’re wonderful, marvelous, ruinous.

And right now, all that ruin is focused solely on him.

Every stroke of your tongue sends fire licking down his spine, every hollow of your cheeks pulls another poorly concealed moan from his lungs.

He bites down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood, desperate to keep from groaning aloud. Because the second he makes a sound, the game is over. And he is not sure he wants that to happen just yet.

A soft, utterly devastating hum rumbles in your throat and the vibration nearly rips all the pretense right from him, his hips jerking upward before he can stop them. 

He involuntarily pushes himself a little deeper, the tip of his cock just short from brushing your pharynx in a timid, light touch, and he prays you’ll chalk it up to a sleepy reflex.

But you’re clever, wicked, and he knows in the pit of his stomach that you won’t let him keep his little show up for much longer.

Because you know him. 

You know him like the back of your hand.

Always have, always will.

Always.

That’s why, despite your mouth being very much occupied, a small grin fights its way into your features.

Your angle shifts. Just a little. Just enough.

Taking him deeper, you swallow him down until the head of his cock fully yet gently nudges the back of your throat, his length wholly lodged in the velvety heat of your mouth, tongue teasing him in ways that make his toes curl and his back fight the arch it desperately wants to draw away from the mattress.

His jaw goes slack, lips parting soundlessly around a broken moan. 

It takes him every ounce of willpower not to cry your name out in the quiet, early morning for the entire neighbourhood to hear and file a complaint about again.

He foolishly thinks he might survive this if he channels enough will-power, even just barely.

Until he remembers just who the unholy angel currently busy sending him straight to heaven’s gates is.

You pull off of him with a wet, obscene pop, saliva slicking his shaft as you wrap a hand around the base, your palm sliding leisurely in strokes so deliberate and calculated he finds it hard to breathe properly, let alone think straight.

You latch onto his hip, lips skimming hot, golden skin and brushing against the sharp irresistible cut of his Adonis belt, the V-shape muscles practically begging to be worshipped as you begin to leave a path of open-mouthed kisses downwards.

Each press of your mouth is molten, lingering, creating a trail of fire across his flesh while your hand continues to work him up with maddening, unhurried motions.

You travel down to his pelvis, following the line with obscene care, your tongue the sweetest of teases as it drags heat closer and closer back to where he needs you the most.

By the time you reach him again, he’s seconds away from losing that fragile thread of composure he’s hopelessly clinging to.

Your lips part, trailing a line of languid, lascivious kisses along his length, mapping him from base to tip like you want to imprint his shape, his taste, the ridges of the veins scattered here and there in your memory until the end of times.

It’s worship and torment all at once, every press of your mouth higher and higher sending sharp shocks of pleasure spiraling through his body until his muscles twitch helplessly under your touch.

The flat of your tongue laps at his swollen head, circling, tasting the precum that’s gathered there, and you think he’ll finally break.

That for once, he’ll let you win at the little games you loved to play together so much.

Because when he does this to you, when he’s the one greeting you the naughtiest of good mornings, when his tongue is the one taunting you, delving into you and taking you apart with a hunger that bleeds into devotion, you don’t stand a chance.

You never manage to pretend for long. To pretend at all.

Your body betrays you as soon as his touch settles on your skin; every tremor in your legs, every arch of your back, every desperate sob he drags from your throat without mercy.

He can read you too easily, too well, and you know it absolutely thrills him everytime you prove him that it takes nathing more than his mouth on you to have you see not just stars, but whole fucking universes.

The thing is, you can read him just as well.

You know what he likes, know just what tips him over the edge, exactly like what your cheeky tongue is doing right now.  

You know he can’t possibly contain the dizzying pleasure washing over him any longer.

That’s why, when his control gives in just a little and he gives the gentlest, most timid little thrust into your eager mouth, you can’t help the wave of satisfaction that rushes through your body.

He chokes out a moan, his lungs trying to regain power over his breathing in an attempt that is frankly kind of adorable.

And absolutely useless.

James Potter is not a great actor in his everyday life as it is, but he is even worse when you are anywhere near him, naked, and feasting on his cock like it’s the ultimate delicacy. 

You know he is awake, it didn’t exactly take you long to figure it out.

What you’re not so sure about is the reason why he is trying so damn hard to make you believe the opposite whilst clearly failing at it.

It’s not like you would complain if he opened his big, beautiful eyes to finally grace you with probably your favorite sight in the whole wide world.

But, as you give his crown a lewd, gentle suck and his teeth chomp down on his lower lip to suppress a curse that you hear anyway, you finally understand.

James likes to play. And when he does, he plays to win. 

Unfortunately for him, so do you.

So you sink down in one smooth, single glide until he’s seated so profoundly down your throat tears threaten to spill from the corners of your eyes.

Your muscles contract swallowing around him, hot and velvet-slick, the shape of him settling so perfectly inside of you you’d think the universe created you to fit together in every possible way.

The noise that reverberates in the room isn’t human; a strangled groan, half-whimper, half-growl ripped from somewhere deep in his chest as his hips buck helplessly into your mouth the second you welcome him back inside.

His hand shoots down, tangling in your hair at last, like he needs the anchor of you as much as he needs the sublime warmth of your mouth.

Finally, his eyes snap open, hooded and blown-wide with lust, but there’s a softness to them too, shining with the quiet awe that always seeps through when his gaze is on you.

For a moment, he just looks at you, taking in the image of you with his dick buried into your tight, raring mouth and your lips stretched so sweetly, so perfectly around him. 

It’s that exact look that pours gasoline on your already raging firestorm.

“Fuck–” he lets out finally, voice low and ragged as he cups your jaw. 

His thumb brushes instinctively against your cheek, immeasurably tender even in the filth of it all.

That’s when you release him, strings of spit clinging from your lips to his flushed tip. You lick them away slowly, the tip of your tongue just barely caressing him before you flash him the most innocent of smiles, like steel wouldn’t melt on your tongue.

“Good morning,” you purr, a little croaky and far too casual for someone who was deepthroating him with all her might and heart just mere seconds ago. You tilt your head, cheek nuzzling into his palm, hand still wrapped lazily around his length as you give him a slow pump that makes his hips twitch. “Slept well?”

His chest rises sharp, a scoff escaping him like the question is funny, like you don’t know exactly what you’ve done to him.

“Mmh– sure did,” he groans, his teeth rolling on his lower lip like he’s trying not to let out any louder sound than the breathy, almost imperceptible moans leaving him every time your tongue teases his slit. “Woke up even better.”

“Yeah?” your lips brush lazily over the damp head of his cock, tongue darting out to taste the bead of arousal pearling there. “That’s good to hear. Head a feeling you might like it,” you murmur before sucking just the tip and pulling off again with another downright pornographic sound. “I wasn’t wrong, was I?”

You already know the answer to that. Not because of some kind of overhightened intuition, and definitely not because of a damn lucky guess.

You and James always made sure to talk. About everything, really—communication is the key to every loving and respectful relationship, after all—but especially about these kinds of things. 

Things that unfolded inside any four walls that could contain the cacophony of your moans blending together. Which in your case could’ve been any surface of your, unfortunately not soundproofed at all, apartament. 

Boundaries, limits, comforts and discomforts, what was a green light and what was not. You put everything on the table and discussed together what was in and what was out.

Which is how both you and him found out you had a certain curiosity for…creative alarm clocks.

And if you said that he took that information and made the best use of it, it would be the understatement of the century.

The thing is, he never really disclosed what his position was about it when it came to him.

As elated as he was regarding the giving part, you couldn’t exactly be sure he would’ve enjoyed the receiving too.

It is safe to say you had a hunch, though.

You could say it was science, even. The logical conclusion to a series of events happening with regularity, leading you to formulate a thesis you just had to test.

Had it been just a one-time thing —one single, isolated episode and then radio silence— you would’ve let it go, labeling it as the consequence of his neurons momentarily ceasing their proper activity because of the brain-melting head you were providing him with.

The thing is, it wasn’t.

The slip-ups and not so subtle hints he dropped over the past few months —whether you were making a mess of the sheets or just simply lounging on the couch contemplating the mysteries of the universe—  were numerous, and definitely not shy in expressing the sheer desire he felt at the thought of leaving the land of dreams to find you on your knees for him.

‘Feels good, baby? Yeah, I bet it does. Wouldn’t mind being in your place.’

‘Don’t tempt me, sweetheart or I’ll start begging for a turn.’

‘I’d let you do anything to me, Y/n. Whatever you want, whenever you want. It’s yours. I’m yours.’

So the possibility of him liking this was high.

The probability that he would love it? Even higher.

Your theory is proven right when a chocked-out, almost disbelieved laugh escapes him.

“Shit– no. Hell no. You were so right. So fucking right, baby.”

You grin, pleased, and you take a moment to just look at him, to take in the wreck that he already is. The mess of his chocolate strands against the pillow, his lips parted in a way that would almost look sweet, innocent, if it wasn’t for his hooded, lustful gaze laser-focused on you and the way your hand moves on him, his cock sliding hard and heavy between your delicate fingers.

Slowly, you guide yourself back down.

His hips roll, gentle at first, a languid thrust into your lush heat that has him cursing as he sinks deeper. He pushes in measuredly, inch after delicious inch, like he wants to savor the way you open up for him, the way your throat flexes around him as if it was made to cradle him like this.

Your eyes stay locked on his, and that seems to undo him more than the dreamy suction of your lips or the wet sounds filling the room.

Because you’re letting him see you.

The thirst, the lust, the wicked satisfaction of knowing you’re the only one that can unravel him beyond return.

“Love,” he pants, breath sharp and unsteady, hips bucking despite himself. “Can’t, fuck– can’t hold back for long, baby.”

You pull off of him, head tilted in feigned innocence and brows furrowed in slight confusion as your hand pumps him leisurely and near damn hypnotizingly from root to tip.

“Who said I want you to?”

The chuckle that spills from his chest is hoarse, strangled and cut short by the way you dip your head and drag your tongue along the length of him in one long, languid stroke.

His eyes flutter close for half a second, head tipping back into the pillow as his other hand too cups your face, cradling it in his palms like the most precious of treasures.

“I- I thought you just wanted to wake me up,” he nearly whines, the pitch of his voice rising and trembling as you feel him twitch and pulse in your hold.

You almost scoff, baffled by the fact that he would even merely think that. That you just wanted to tease him a bit and call it a day, because–

“Firing you up only to let you jack off all by yourself? Nuh uh, baby,” you smirk against him, devilish, before taking him back into your mouth until he’s fully sheathed once again. You hold him there, hollowing your cheeks, letting your throat flutter around him while his hips jolt, a broken moan coming from deep within him.

When you pull back, it’s just far enough to breathe, to glance up at him through wet lashes, tears silently kissing your skin, voice shattered like broken glass and whisper “I’ll get what I worked hard for,” before diving right back in.

Your pace builds, and so does his, yet the filthy pas de deux you both get lost into never loses that sensual, torturing edge. 

He could fuck your throat right there and then if he wanted, use you as he pleases, ram into you mercilessly like an animal trying to find sweet relief from a mouth that’s willing to let him.

Heaven knows you would let him more than gladly. 

You’d let him do everything, let him ruin you completely and shamelessly just to then glue the pieces back together himself.

He’s done it before. Fucked your throat so hard and deliciously ruthless you couldn’t speak for a good three days, pounded into you with unrelenting, unforgiving thrusts, so deep and powerful you had problems walking straight for a week, ate you out for hours and hours until you couldn’t coherently form words as tears streamed down your cheeks, overtsimulation hitting you as hard a brick wall, your pussy so raw and used and fucking worshipped even sitting down the next day sent a shock of pleasure bordering to pain through your whole body. 

And after all of that, after claiming your body, your soul in every possible way, he spent countless hours more taking care of you, pampering you to oblivion, even apologizing —unnecessarily, because if you said you didn’t like that part of him, that you didn’t like being used and manhandled like a ragdoll at his mercy sometimes, you would’ve lied to yourself— for being too rough, for being too much, for leaving those hickeys you craved on your neck, for painting the bruises on your thighs in the shape of his fingerprints that you longed for, for causing you the slightest bit of pain in your back by having had you folded in half as you took his cock like you were born for it.

He could.

Yet, he doesn’t.

Each thrust that chases your rhythm is careful, pondered, like you’re the finest wine and he is making sure to savor you until the very last mouth-watering drop.

His fingers tangle in your hair, tugging so deliciously you can’t help but moan around him, the vibration wrapping tight and sweet down his length.

His movements falter, hips arching off the bed as he starts fucking into your mouth with a worshipful kind of desperation, hazel eyes glued to yours like they’re the only thing keeping him tethered to Earth.

“Beautiful,” he exhales lowly, thumbs brushing your cheeks adoringly while he hits the back of your throat again and again. “My beautiful girl. So fucking pretty for me.”

The words send fire sparking through you, scorching flames lighting up every cell of your body hotter than his skin sliding over your tongue.

God, you’re so full of him, so blissfully relishing in the way he takes over every part of your being.

You hum in answer, in pleasure as he goes deeper, more desperate.

It’s filthy. It’s consuming. But it’s devotion, too. Every inch of him showing you there’s no place he’d rather be that here, buried deeper inside of you, loving you in the dirtiest, most reverent way he knows.

Suddenly, his voice cuts through, dropping to a husky, shuddering whisper, threaded with something dangerously close to begging.

“Where do you want me?”

The question nearly undoes you. 

Everywhere, you want to say, everywhere, all the fucking time.

But, instead of answering, you just stay there for a moment, lips still sealed around him while your tempo slows down.

Your lashes flutter as you glance up at him, his chest rising in rapid, shallow pulls, his pupils blown so wide they swallow the hazel whole, a sheer veil of sweat shimmering on his skin as the sunlight gets lucky enough to kiss it. 

He looks like a total mess. The kind of mess you thirst for, the kind that only you get to see.

You ease back slowly, letting him slip from your mouth, a string of saliva connecting your lips to the flushed head before breaking and sliding down his length.

The obscene sight makes your core clench, raw need flooding your veins as you swipe your tongue across your lower lip, tasting the tinge of him still clinging there deliberately slow, like you want him to watch.

He throbs in your hold, needy, basically begging for attention, and your eyes flick down, watching as arousal swells again at his tip.

You could lean down and lick it away, let him paint your throat white, brand it as his even when it already is.

You could.

But you don’t.

Instead, you stay kneeled between his thighs, pondering, letting the silence stretch.

Because this is your choice.

Yours.

Like it always is with him.

So you let yourself think.

Think about where you want him, crave him, hunger for him the most.

It takes less than a heartbeat to find the answer, the images flashing across your mind in vivid detail making that decision for you.

The thought alone makes you shiver as you finally move.

You crawl up his body like a predator stalking its prey, every move deliberately calculated to make him lose a small piece of his mind with every second that passes.

The way your hands slide up his stomach, how your nails graze faintly over the lean muscles there, relishing in the way they jump beneath your touch, the way he looks at you like you’ve stolen every last bit of control he thought he had.

You feel the way his body reacts, his breath hitching every time your weight shifts closer, every time your breasts brush against his chest, every time your slick heat grazes the aching line of his cock as you finally straddle him.

Your thighs bracket his hips, your wetness dragging over his shaft in slow, lazy strokes that make both of you gasp for air.

You let him feel you, the way you’ve soaked yourself for him, the proof of just how much you want this.

His hands twitch at his sides, then hover in the air like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch you. As if he doesn’t already own every single part of you.

His attempt at restraint makes your stomach twist with greed and your mouth curl into a tender smile as you lean down, close enough that your lips ghost over his but don’t quite meet them.

Your voice falls into a sinful whisper, soft enough that it forces him to hang on to every word.

“Inside.”

The growl that vibrates in the air after those two syllables leave your mouth is guttural, almost primal, his hands finally snapping to your waist like he can’t survive another second without touching you.

The sweet curve of your lips turns teasing, a little dangerous against his, your teeth nipping at his lower lip before pulling back. “Want to feel you trail down my thighs while I make breakfast.”

His gaze pierces you, dark and searing, glimmering with the slightest spark of astonishment.

“Jesus Christ, Y/n.”

“What?” you tilt your head, giving him the purest, most angelic smile you can master before rolling your hips in an idle circle.

For a moment, you’re certain he’s about to lose it, flip you onto your back, and drive into you until the sheets are ruined and the whole bloody street knows his name.

The hunger is there, unifltered and untamed, flickering in his eyes like wildfire.

Instead, he kisses you so passionately, so reverently your heart almost explodes behind your ribcage. 

He grounds himself in you, hands tracing your silhouette until they reach your face, finding the line of your jaw and cradling it with a tenderness that feels almost at odds with the way his cock throbs hot and hard against your heat. His touch gentle even as his muscles tense with restraint.

“You’re–” his thumb swipes over your lower lip, voice breaking with the weight of it, like the words have been torn for his chest. “You’re absolutely perfect.”

For a heartbeat, your lungs forget how to function.

You’re used to his praise, used to the salacious confessions he spills in the heat of the moment and out of it in equal measure.

But this—this feels different.

It isn’t just lust, desire, or the uncontrollable urge to brand you as his for the umpteenth time.

This is him seeing you. All of you. With hunger in your eyes, with need consuming you down to the bone, with the filthy and shameless words coming out of your mouth.

And, still, he looks at you like you’ve hung the bloody stars. 

Your throat tightens around a laugh that doesn’t quite make it out, your stomach filling with a swarm of butterflies fluttering their wings so fast and hard they might as well reach your heart and take it out of your chest to give it to him.

“Aww,” you practically coo, trying to brush off the warmth spreading through you with humor though your voice wavers with a kind of stunned disbelief that you can’t quite mask. “All because I want you to stuff me up like shepherd’s pie at Christmas dinner?”

The laugh that bursts from him is low, rough-edged and definitely taken aback. But also so immensely real.

His head tips back against the pillow, his chest shaking beneath your palms and that rich, husky melody tugging at something deep in you.

You take a moment to yourself, a moment that is not ruled by lust and blazing desire, to just admire him. The way his lashes tremble and eyelids crinkle as his eyes squeeze shut, the slope of his nose catching the soft morning light, the way his Adam’s apple works as he tries to stifle another fit of laughter and fails.

He is so achingly beautiful, undone not by your mouth or your body, but by the ridiculous little moments between you.

It knocks the air clean off your lungs.

“No,” he manages at last, shoulders still shaking around a cackle as he brings his head up a little, enough to softly brush his nose with yours. “And I’m not sure I like that comparison.” 

You find yourself unable to fight the smile blooming on your face, torn between laughter and wanting to melt into him altogether.

“Sorry,” you quip completely unapologetic, sweeping an unruly curl back from his forehead and trying so hard not to get lost in the pools of adoration staring up at you like you’re his entire world. “It’s way too early for my brain to provide some decent dirty talk.”

The corner of his mouth twitches up as his hand slides from your jaw to your neck.

Goosebumps scatter all over your skin at the contact.

“Mmh,” he hums, feigning thoughtfulness, his tone honey-smooth and teasing. His thumb caresses lightly at the hollow of your throat, his grin widening when your pulse jumps against his touch. “So it’s the illegally early hours of the morning’s fault, then. Got it.”

Despite your stomach doing somersaults and the raw, aching need that washes over you at that simple yet lethal gesture, you roll your eyes.

Your hips give purposeful friction, dragging yourself along the thick length of him, and his breath stutters, a silent curse filling the paper-thin sliver of space between your faces.

“Well, that,” you lean down to brush your smirk against the corner of. “And the fact that I’m way too distracted by the handsome man beneath me, and his rock-hard cock that I’m just dying to have inside of me.”

His answering groan goes straight between your legs before you finally close the little distance separating you, kissing him thoroughly, swallowing and tasting every sound he makes.

His mouth parts immediately, desperate to let you in, his tongue sliding against yours in lazy, unhurried strokes that makes your whole body buzz.

He shifts under you, his hands guiding your hips, lining himself up, and you can feel his blunt head nudging against you, parting your folds, gathering your essence, brushing and teasing that little spot that has you bite back an embarassing mewl.

Every single thought in your head vanishes in an instant.

Your breath catches, breaking the kiss just long enough for you to whisper a breathy “Please,” before your lips find his again.

The stretch is slow, so deliciously slow as you sink onto him inch after aching inch, your walls molding to accommodate him like you were made for him and him only.

Every second feels like delightful torture, your body devouring him greedily while your pace remains mercilessly languid.

You want to feel it. Want to feel everything.

Every ridge, every pulse, every throb, until he’s buried so deep inside of you that you feel him in your goddamn guts.

His arms wrap around you instantly, one hand splayed wide across your back, the other curling at the nape of your neck, his forehead pressing against yours.

“Fuck– Y/n,” he nearly hisses, the words scorching against your lips. “You feel like heaven.”

Shivers ripple all over your body, the fullness so perfect it makes your toes curl and your head spin.

For a moment, neither of you moves. You just cling to each other, your mouths forgetting words and learning the language of heat and hunger, his hands skimming up and down your spine, soothing, as you adjust to him.

You let the stretch settle into something molten, letting him feel the way your body clings to him so tight, so perfectly, warm and slick and delightful as his fingers dance all over your skin. Your shoulders, the arch of your back, hips, thighs, every single centimeter of your body he can reach.

His chest rises and falls hard beneath yours, every breath a struggle against the unbearable bliss of being inside of you.

You lift your hips just a little, just enough to feel the euphotic drag of him against your tender walls.

“Fuck– oh fuck, Y/n, baby. I–I don’t think I’m–”

His whole body goes taught under yours and you can feel him trembling, his muscles straining under your touch as though holding himself together takes everything he has left.

“Look at me,” you coax, tilting his face up when he tries to hide in the gentle slope of your neck. “James, look at me.”

His eyes drag open, lids lifting sluggishly to let you savor the glassy, blown wide gaze you lose yourself in like the only sea you’d let yourself be drowned by. 

The sight of it —of him—sends a wave of emotions strong enough to make your legs weak.

He’s ruined. Completely undone. A beautiful, desperate mess.

But he does what you ask. 

He looks at you, lets you see all of it. How he’s slowly losing himself in the pleasure, in the sublime euphoria of it all.

It happens sometimes in the moments when every single molecule of his being is taken over by the feeling of you enveloping him in the unholiest, most intense way. 

Something inside of him just switches. 

You’re not sure what, you’re not even sure why.

The only thing you know is that at times, when you take even just the slightest bit of the gentle control that would usually belong with him in the bedroom and make it yours, his brain seems to rewire itself in its entirety.

And it’s enthralling to witness, enchanting even. Seeing how pliant, how yielding and desperate he becomes for you, how begs and prayers fall from his lips so readily and effortlessly.

“That’s it,” you whisper, cupping his jaw and guiding his face up to yours. “Right here, Jamie. Stay with me.”

His lips crash against yours before the last syllable even manages to leave your mouth. It’s messy, frantic, all teeth and tongue and shivering gasps. And it’s the hottest fucking thing on the face of the planet.

“Bloody hell– gonna– fuck, I’m gonna–” the words tumble out of him ragged and strangled as his hips jerk helplessly. 

His hands grip your waist like a lifeline, and you can feel the tremors starting in his thighs.

He is close. You can feel it, read it in all the little telltales of his body.

“Shhh,” you lull him, catching his bottom lip between your teeth, dragging it until he whimpers. “Give it to me, James. All of it. Show me how much you need me.”

“Jesus, baby– fuck–” his mouth falls open against yours with a shameless cry, his fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to bruise, hips giving a thrust so powerful and deep it steal the breath off your lungs. “Take it– take all of it– oh, fuck, Y/n– I’m–” 

And then you feel it. Hot and thick and so much, spilling into you in sharp, rampant spurts. His whole body convulses, his eyes squeezing shut from the intensity of it all, cock throbbing wildly as he reaches the highest of highs and comes.

You gasp, wide-eyed and absolutely, utterly speechless, any words attempting to leave your throat cut off by the overwhelming feeling of fullness that suddenly pervades your body.

“‘M sorry– oh fuck, I’m sorry, ‘was fast, I couldn’t–” it rolls out his lips in a strangled cry, muffled by the way he keeps chasing your mouth, your neck, your shoulder. Anywhere he can feel the taste of your skin on his lips.

The warmth floods you in waves and you can’t help but moan wantonly into him, your sounds blending in a symphony of ecstasy.

With all the strength you are able to gather, you push your upper body up enough to meet his eyes and–

“James,” you whisper, absolutely spellbound by the sight of him coming apart like this. Fast, hard and explosive. After barely a couple grinds of your hips.

Bloody fucking hell.

His eyes are glassy as he tries to look at you, tries to explain.

But your body doesn’t let him. It acts on its own, clenching around him involuntarily, dragging another glorious mewl from his lips.

His voice cracks high, breaking on a plea as tears gather in the corners of his eyes. He keeps moving, rutting into you with sloppy, stuttering thrusts that make the wet slap of your bodies echo into the room, spurts of arousal still pouring from him, painting the inside of your body like the dirtiest of art pieces.

And you’re fascinated by how stunning he is like this.

You can’t look away. You want to observe, to keep this memory forever, to imprint it behind your eyelids to be able to conjure it every time you close your eyes even for a fraction of a second.

The way his lips fall open around every broken moan, the flush staining his cheeks and neck, the tears clinging to his lashes, the wild look in his eyes as he shows no intention to stop, driving into you like he hasn’t just come with a force and an intensity that would make any other man probably faint.

“Holy shit,” you pant, dazed, voice utterly failing you as your hips roll on their own accord once again, your body following his as if bound by a spell.

The result is devastating.

He chokes on a sob, his hands gripping your waist like he either might shatter if you keep moving, or crumble if you don’t.

“Ngh– Ah– I know– I know, I’m sorry– God, you feel so good, ’m sorry–”

“Don’t– fuck, James. That was so–” Fucking hot, you want to say as you stare down at him like he’s the most mesmerizing, filthy thing you have ever seen.

Because he is.

And the fact that he is apologising for gifting you one of the most exhilarating things you have ever experienced in your life, just doesn’t sit right with you.

How in the world could he ever be sorry for showing you just how much you affected him, how little it took him to crumble when it came to you?

You couldn’t care less if it was fast. Hell, he could’ve come at the first nudge of his head between your folds and you would still be on cloud nine.

Because the thought that you did this to him, that you’ve reduced James Potter to a sobbing, stuttering mess after barely getting a glimpse of how good you felt around him no matter how many times he had already spent buried in that same perfection before…it makes your body quake with heat.

He’s gasping under you, moaning your name like a prayer, tears sliding hot down his temples as he keeps plummeting into you frantically, needy beyond comprehension.

A need you wholeheartedly and inherently share. 

You cup his jaw, kiss him hard, your tongues tangling as you meet every single, desperate snap of his hips. Your body clings to him, pulls him back deeper into your heat with every flutter of your walls, and you swear you can feel him hardening again as he cries out against your mouth.

Your head fills with just one single, unshakable thought.

You want more.

Of him, of the way he is so ruined and perfect and at your mercy beneath you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” you awe, voice shaking as your tongue teases the seam of his lips. “Give me another one. Show me how well you fill me, baby. Let me feel you.”

The praise shatters him all over again. His lips part around a hoarse moan that you catch with your own, cock twitching inside your already soaked core like he’s trying to feed your greedy cunt every last drop he has to give.

And you let him. Because you want it just as much as he does.

“I– I don’t know if–” he rasps, his own body betraying him through every jerk of his hips.

“You can,” you graze his jaw, pressing soft, tender kisses along his neck as you start to move again, drawing him back to full hardness with every purposeful grind. “I know you can.”

“Too much,” he whimpers, the sound raw and helpless as if you’ve stolen the strength from his body. “S’too much, love, I’m– fuck– I’m sensitive–”

“I know, baby. I know,” you ease, kissing his cheek, tasting the salt of his tears on your tongue, grinding down harder until his whole body jolts. “But you like it, yes? You like being a good boy for me, right Jamie?”

His eyes flutter open, watery and veiled by desperation, hazel swallowed nearly black with need.

“Yes. Yes,” he bites at his bottom lip as he nods almost feverishly. “Fuck– yeah, I love it. Love it so much.”

Your heart soars with adoration, a smile making its way onto your features. One so genuine and full of fondness you can’t bring yourself to fight it.

You can’t help it. 

The sight of him being so eager for you, so enthusiastic to be at your feet does send a wave of pure, unconditional love.

But it also sets the flame of desire already burning in your stomach ablaze.

“Then let me see it. Let me see just how good you are for me,” you whisper, leaning down enough to let your touch ghost the shell of his ear. “Pump me so full of you I can barely take a step without being reminded of who I belong to.”

He groans wildly against your mouth, swallowing your words like he wants to taste the filth in them, his thrusts growing messier, needier, punctuated with helpless, little sounds that make you clench even tighter around him.

“Fuck yes– You’re gonna take it, darling?” he asks, more a desperate plea than anything else as he hammers up into you recklessly, hands sliding down your body to cup the supple flesh of your ass and guide himslef so deep inisde of you you feel him in your goddamn throat. “Every fucking drop– ah– gonna keep you so full you’ll be dripping for days.”

The shock of pleasure that hits as soon as the words leave his lips almost makes you dizzy.

Your head spins, overwhelming need consuming you down to the bone.

“Shit– yes, yesyesyes– gonna take everything you give me, baby.”

You can’t stop the string of whimpers and moans that slips free while he meets that very melody with his own.

His whole body shudders against yours, goosebumps scattering all over his sun-kissed skin, and you know he’s right at that fragile edge again.

His face is so open, so raw, his lips trembling on yours as he chants your name like it’s the only word he remembers.

“Fuck– fuckfuckfuck, Y/n–”

The weak warning doesn’t manage to fully leave his lips before you kiss him hard and breathless, pouring every single ounce of the love and the need you have for him.

You instinctively clamp around him like a vice, hips grinding exactly how you know he likes it, enough to make him feel every centimeter of your heat surrounding him, every inch of flesh that drags along his length, engulfing him completely.

“Give it to me, James. Please– I need it,” it comes out as nothing more than a whiny, broken plea as you cradle his face in your palms, eyes finding his again, fire meeting gasoline in a chaos of raw, blissful perfection. “I need you.”

That’s all he needs. That one, final push.

His entire body seizes under you with a stifled cry, quiet but so full of release it seeps right into your bones. 

His hips stutter once, twice, eyes rolling to the back of his head while his hands grip you like a lifeline, spilling into you pulse after exquisite pulse, until his strength buckles completely.

The sheer force of it drags you under with him and you follow him, clenching and trembling as your own climax breaks through you so hard you almost scream.

For a heartbeat there’s nothing but the rush of blood in your ears, his hoarse moans against your mouth, and the wet, messy melody of your bodies still moving in sync.

You kiss him through it, lips shivering against his as the tremors slowly subside to leave space to something softer, rawer. A rhythm languid and mellow enough to let you ride the aftershocks of intoxicating pleasure still rippling through both of you.

His hands -–which moments ago were clutching at you like you might’ve dissolved into nothingness if he so much as stopped looking at you— loosen until they’re just palms against your back, rubbing slow, shaky shapes as if to soothe himself as much as you.

You collapse against him, straddling him still, unable to move even a single muscle, both of you catching your breath as his fingers travel on your skin. They follow the line of your spine with feather-light devotion, tracing invisible designs along your shoulderblades, until they reach your neck where they move up and up to meet your jaw.

Your whole body feels as light as air and as heavy as lead simultaneously, your head somewhere far, far away from the reality you know is bound to crush this little idyll you created. A place where nothing matters except the thundering beat of James’ heart against yours.

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice rough and small, his lips still brushing yours in sweet little touches.

“Hi,” you breathe back, before fusing your mouths back together.

The world feels hazy, a little unreal as you bask in the reverence of his touch, like you’re both still suspended in your very personal Eden. 

“You okay?” he asks quietly, breaking your embrace to search your eyes.

You can’t help but smile at how achingly soft his gaze is as it finally meets yours.

With a fleeting peck on his lips, you let your head drop to his chest, feeling the lean, strong yet ever so comfortable planes of his muscles against your cheek.

“I feel like I should be the one asking you that,” you say, half-grin brushing against his now steadying heartbeat. “That was…” you pause, searching for the right words to describe the nearly life-altering experience you just had before settling on a simple yet more than appropriate, “A lot.”

“It sure was,” he chuckles, landing a kiss on your hair while his fingers gently massage your scalp with every soothing stroke of his hand.

Yet, the content smile you hear in his voice does little to calm the slight uneasiness you start to feel in your stomach. 

“Was it too much?” worry oozes from your voice, as you shift enough to be able to look into those magnetic eyes of his, trying to find any sort of negative emotions.

You are met with nothing but a strongly confused crease between his brows and a sea of love threatening to take your breath away. 

“Are you kidding? That was amazing,” he kisses your forehead, gentle fingers tucking misbehaving strands behind your ears. “You were amazing.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to say that just because–”

“Y/n, I’m fine. I promise,” he interrupts you with a tenderness so reassuring and firm it almost makes your knees buckle despite them being still planted in the mattress and framing his hips. A smile brighter than the sun itself makes its way onto his face before he goes on, “Actually, I’m more than fine. I’m ecstatic. I fucking loved that, baby. Not sure if my legs still work anymore, though.”

And with that every single bit of worry fades into nothingness, relief taking its place as a quiet laugh rumbles in your chest.

You place a kiss to the plam gently cradling your cheek, before trying to move. 

Your body feels like gelatin, the muscles of your legs jumping and protesting at every little motion, letting you know that the little workout you just had was taking its toll more than any visit to the gym ever did.

Which is great considering that this choice of cardio is free, way more fun and definitely your favorite.

You go to pull away, trying to relieve him from the weight of your body still slumped against his, hands pressing against his solid chest for balance and knees brushing his sides as the space between your bodies starts to widen slowly.

That is, until James registers your movements.

“Uh uh, darling. Where do you think you’re going?” he inquires, mischief written all over his face as his hold on you tightens instantly, pulling you right back against his chest like the thought of you worrying about his comfort first personally offends him.

“To ensure your blood circulation goes back to do its proper job?” you arch an eyebrow matter-of-factly.

Which would be a little more convincing if the mere inch that separates your mouth from his didn’t affect your sanity as much as it does.

His voice drops to a soft, silky whisper against your lips.

“That can wait.”

“But I don’t want to–”

“Overstimulate me?” he interrupts you, reading your mind as a stupidly handsome and smug grin starts to adorn his features. “I think it’s a bit too late to worry about that now, don’t you?”

Your brows shoot up, lips drawing into a slient gasp as your face contorts in gobsmack.

Oh, the audacity of this man.

You know he is just taunting you, pushing your buttons a little because he loves seeing you all fiery and feisty.

Also, he is kind of right. At least half-right, you would say.

You didn’t stop him, and he didn’t stop you. All square.

Still, you play along. Because life is too short already, and what a pity it would be to make it boring too.

“I’m sorry?” you near damn squeal, your voice so high it sounds almost cartoonish as you sit up straight, pointer finger poking his sternum in exaggerated accusation. “I’ll have you know that you were the one rutting into me like you were in fucking heat, James Potter.”

The little laugh that reaches your ears lights your heart on fire, making it soar behind your ribcage.

“You’re right. You’re right, I’m sorry. And I’m sure I'll be paying the consequences of that by not feeling my toes for at least a couple hours, but–” he doesn’t bother finishing that sentence before he props himself up to match your position, chiseled back leaving the embrace of the mattress only for his torso to find a warmth even more heavenly as his near marble-carved chest connects with yours, his mouth finding the soft slope of your neck. “I definitely wasn’t nor won’t be complaining.” 

The words are muffled against you, the drag of his lips a lazy, soft press lingering just a tad too long to be innocent as he trails lower, brushing along your pulse point, tracing the faint shimmer of sweat that clings to your skin.

You bite your lip, suppressing the knowing smile blooming quietly, your fingers swiping through the untamable mess of his hair, the shorter strands at the base of his skull tickling your palm.

“James.”

He hums a soft note of acknowledgement, the sound so casual it makes you chuckle under your breath as your hand travels downwards, nails gently scraping the wide planes of that body that has you wish each and every one of his shirts disappeared into thin air. 

“What are you doing?”

You can feel the ghost of his smirk on your skin as his tongue darts out teasingly, following the line of your neck right to that sweet spot below your ear that makes you shiver.

“Nothing,” he purrs, taunting your lobe between his teeth.

His hands roam your body almost lazily, taking their time to appreciate every nook and cranny he couldn’t properly worship while lost in the raw need that overtook him not even ten minutes earlier. The plump flesh of your ass as he grabs a gentle handful, driving your hips into his just enough to have hisses falling from both your mouths, the tenderness of your hips and thighs, the soft curve of your waist while his touch lingers.

A shudder dances up your spine, gentle heat licking your skin as his thumbs tease the side of your chest, tracing the silhouette of your breasts with feather-light devotion.   

“Jesus,” you exhale, his teeth grazing the slope of your collarbone.

“What?” the nonchalamce in his tone shouldn’t have the right to be half as sexy as it is.

Not when you know perfectly well what is going on in that boundlessly horny brain of him.

“You seriously want more?”

He pulls back just enough for you to see the dangerous glint of mischief flickering across his still glassy gaze. “What if I do?”

It’s not hard to believe that he would want to keep going until the sun sets and then all night too for good measure. After all, you are well acquainted with your boyfriend’s above-than-average and, frankly, near inhuman stamina.

Still, that doesn’t change the fact that—

“You just came twice, James. In a row.”

“Okay,” he tilts his head, lips quirking up in that infuriatingly cocky grin you both love and fear. “And?”

“And?” you echo, a scoff laced with bewilderment ricocheting through the few inches of space separating you as you gape at him like he just sprouted a second head. “Are you not tired?”

He brushes his nose against yours, that dangerous smile settling just a little. “Are you?”

“Well, no. But you–”

“Then my job is not done,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, cutting your protest off with a fleeting peck on your lips.

You blink up at him, puzzlement bleeding into your features.

What the hell?

“Don’t look at me like that, baby. You know what I’m talking about,” he says with a lilt in his voice that tells you he is definitely not joking around.

The thing is, you really don’t.

What could he possibly do more for you? 

Because from where you’re sitting —like, literally— he’s given you more than enough.

He’s given you fucking everything.

He’s graced you with the experience of a lifetime, let you see him in the sexiest, hottest, rawest version of him, let you take control in a way you never had before, giving you not only the wheel but the whole bloody car, made you come by the sheer force of his hips snapping and pounding into you, and—

Once, your brain supplies suddenly, pumping on the brakes of your thoughts so hard you almost get whiplash from the realization, You came once.

Which is perfectly fine. More than fine, actually. Because you never expected to come at all, hadn’t planned on it.

Everything you did in this early, wonderful morning was for him, not for you.

He already did enough of that. Make you the center of his world, the only axis he gravitated like you were the sun and him the eager planet revolving around you. In and out of the bedroom.

For once, you wanted things to be about him. To be for him. To give him the same blinding, white-hot and back-arching pleasure he gave to you.

But you know your boyfriend. You know how his mind works.

And if there’s one thing you’ve learned about this ridiculous, wonderful man, it’s that he never stops wanting to give, that his urge to please is something that burns so fiercely it almost borders on obsession.

Which means right now, James ‘I Live To Please You’ Potter is sitting beneath you, convincing himself that he hasnt done enough for you in this fine morning. That one orgasm isn’t worthy of you.

Because in his head you deserve everything, every ounce of devotion and worship he can and will pour into you.

You wouldn’t be surprised if he was already strategizing how to make you lose your ability to talk, walk, and think properly in the twenty minutes you still technically have before his real alarm starts to ruin your little utopia.

The absurd part is, you can’t even bring yourself to be frustrated about it.

Because this is James you are talking about, and the need to provide is so intrinsically woven into his DNA it’d be easier to see the end of the world than seeing him being okay with only making you fall apart once and calling it a day.

“Jamie, it’s okay,” you try, your eyes softening as they search for his with all the assurance you can convey through just a simple look. 

“No, it’s not.”

You bite back a chuckle at the almost offended frown you are met with. As predicted, as stubborn as ever.

“James–”

“Nuh uh, none of that,” he cuts you off instantly with a shake of his head,  messy curls bouncing in defiance. “You just made my legs literally shake, love. And you expect me to what? Lie here and not return the favour? What kind of guy would I be if–”

A sudden, aggressive growl cuts through the space like a crack of thunder.

Both of you freeze, the sound echoing embarrassingly loud in the quiet room.

“The kind of guy who’ll starve if he doesn’t listen to his girlfriend?” you muse, cocking a brow and trying to suppress the small laugh threatening to leave the depth of your chest.

But James —the menace— doesn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest.

He simply looks at you, the little speks of gold in his irises glinting in the darkness of his gaze as his mouth curls into an unrepentant, crooked grin.

“Oh, I’ll be eating alright. Trust me.”

Your lips part but nothing comes out, every word swiftly dying on your tongue thanks to the absolute shamelessness of this man. 

“I meant real food, James,” you deadpan, managing to speak at last and rolling your eyes while suppressing a shiver that threatens to overtake your whole body. “Real. Food.”

He leans back, propping his weight on his elbows and giving you the full view of his perfect, statuesque torso.

“What if I don’t need food,” his voice drops low, that playful warmth wrapped around it made several degrees hotter by the way he can’t stop eyeing you up like you were the feast. “What if I only need you.”

Your eyes narrow, a playful glint shining in them as you take him in just as hungrily. 

“And since when am I edible?” you shoot back, fingertips idly tracing the ridges of his abs, following the hard lines with teasing slowness.

“I mean, you are a snack, so....”

And with that, you finally release the laugh that had been bubbling in your throat since his stomac made it very clear it needed actual sustainment. A real one. One so full of fondness and happiness and love you can’t contain it any longer.

You lean down, giggles still fighting to be set free as your mouth finds his in a kiss that is more smile than anything else.

“You. Are. So. Damn. Cheesy,” each word is punctuated by the soft press of your lips on his skin. His cheeks, his temple, his jaw, the corner of his mouth and then back to his lips.

Because you can. Because, maybe, you’re a little corny too.

“But you love me, yeah?” he asks, arms caging you to him and eyes sparkling, as if he doesn’t already know the answer, as if you’re not looking at him and beaming like he’s the center of your world.

You don’t answer. You just smile, giving him one final kiss on that pouty mouth of his before slipping free from his embrace, collecting his shirt from the floor and padding to the kitchen to make breakfast. A buzzing warmth in your heart and tears running down your thighs.

Hello, beautiful people 💗

Seems I came back sooner than I expected 🤭. Which makes me super happy, not gonna lie. Especially because it means I'm finally able to write full pieces again, and not just half assed montrosities 😀

Unfortunately, I don't have much more to say, except for the fact that this is 100% self-indulgent and I was ovulating and definitely in a mood when I wrote this.

I hope you have fun reading it as much as I had writing it ❣

Thank you for reading, and I'll catch you in the next one <3

[juleswritesstuff]

i just read your james fic and

HOLY—, i swear life altering text!!! if i hadn’t been head over heels for this boy i certainly have now, my god, your writing is a gift and thank you 🥹

Oh my, thank you 😭💖

I'm glad that my first steps out of hibernation are so well received, I was actually kinda worried ngl😅

Thank you again!!!

[juleswritesstuff]

How can I snooze and miss the moment?

Basically, a love letter to James Potter because I love him.

James Potter x reader

warnings: none

He is sleeping.

That is all. Just sleeping.

It shouldn’t be extraordinary.

Humans sleep, animals sleep, the entire world sleeps and James Potter, too, needs to close his eyes at some point. 

But when he does, it feels as though the whole universe hushes to make room for him. 

There is no sound in the room but his steady, soft breathing. Yet, it rings louder than any choir, filling your ears with the only sound you hope to hear every day of your life.

The sheets are tangled around him, one arm draped out as though he is claiming space even in his slumber, the other curled around you, the naked curve of your waist.

His hair is chaos, dark strands fanning across the pillow, each one glinting with some kind of holy rebellion. 

You’ve run your fingers through it so many times, countless even; tugged it, teased it, lost yourself in it. And still, seeing it undone like this, you ache with a fresh kind of need.

You want to touch it, once again, bury your hand in it until the world disappears.

His lashes brush the soft planes of his cheeks, long and dark, curling hypnotizingly and casting shadows on his skin.

His mouth —Heavens help you, his mouth— slightly parted now, soft and vulnerable, as if even sleep cannot silence the boy who talks too much, jokes too much, loves too much. 

You know those lips, the way they curl in pride and slight arrogance when he’s smirking across the Quidditch pitch, how they soften impossibly when he kisses you, when he whispers your name like it’s not a word but a spell, how they brush against your skin, leaving sparks in their wake.

And you stare. God, you stare.

Because what else could you possibly do?

He's beautiful. 

Not in the way mere mortals are. No, he is beautiful the way the sun is. 

Dangerous, consuming, impossible to ignore.

You look at him and you know, without a question, that the world was built wrong, because it was not made to contain someone like him.

Still, here he is.

And, still, he is yours.

You tell yourself you’ll only look for a second more. Just one second. Just long enough to memorize the exact angle of his jaw, the way the moonlight spills across his cheekbones, the slope of his shoulder where the sheets have slipped away.

But you are greedy. Always greedy with him.

One second becomes ten, ten become endless.

You are drowning in him and he is not even awake to notice.

His body is sprawled carelessly next to you, his chest rises and falls in a rhythm so steady it feels like the metronome of the universe itself.

In. Out. In. Out. 

The melody of life repeating in the shape of his breath.

You watch the subtle flutter of muscles beneath his skin. 

He is not built like a statue. Statues are cold, still, dead. No, James Potter is alive in every line, in every moment.

He is built like a boy who has sprinted across Quidditch pitches, who has carried laughter on his shoulders, who has fought for every ounce of joy he’s ever tasted.

His body is not perfect in the shallow, pristine way paintings are. No, he is perfect in the way storms are, in the way rivers carve themselves into canyons. 

In the way softness and strength collide in the most perfect of creations.

And oh, how much that body has carried.

It has carried his friends, their secrets and scars.

It has carried a hundred pranks, a thousand reckless runs through the castle corridors.

It has carried you, in moments of dizziness you can hardly breathe at the memory. The feel of his arms around your waist, the press of his palms against your back, the way he lifts you like you’re weightless imprinted in your mind.

Your eyes trace the line of his throat, the soft shadow where his pulse beats steady.

If you pressed your lips to it now, would it stir him? Would he smile in his sleep, murmuring your name, drawing you closer against him even unconscious? 

Or would he wake up and laugh at you and ask why you’re staring at him like you’ve forgotten how to function as a proper human being?

Because that is how you feel. Inhuman. 

As if gazing at him strips you down to something raw, something infinite, something that makes your heart nearly jump out of your chest and lay itself bare to him.

Your mind starts spiraling. It always does when he is near.

You think of him laughing, head thrown back, hair catching the light in a way that makes it look like the sun itself got tangled in him.

You think of the way he walks into every room like it was waiting for him, like he carries the gravity of the whole universe.

You think of how he fights, not because he loves violence, but because he loves people. 

Reckless, selfless, stubborn James Potter, hurling himself into danger with a smile because he would rather bleed than see anyone else do it.

You think of the softness. The way his fingers brush yours absentmindedly, like it’s a reflex, like he cannot not touch you. The way his hazel eyes soften when he looks at you, mischief dimming into something unbearably tender. The way he says your name, like it’s the only incantation that has ever worked on him.

You think of the times you’ve tried to put him into words, to describe him, to capture him in all his essence.

None of them fit.

They never could.

How do you write fire? How do you describe the taste of sunshine? How do you explain the sound of joy when it is bold and roaring and alive?

He sighs in his sleep, turning slightly, his hold tightening on you like second nature, hand settling into the small of your back as if it is his rightful place.

Because it is. His hands belong on your body. The feeling of them, their warmth etched perpetually into your skin; rough, steady, reverent in ways you never thought James Potter could be. The way he has touched you like a man who cannot believe you are real, like every curve of your body is a miracle he’s been entrusted to guard, to worship. 

Instinctively, you ache to move, to fold into that space, to tuck yourself further into his embrace as if you belong there.

And you do. 

God, you do. 

You’ve belonged there since the moment he first looked at you with eyes burning hotter than a sunrise and yet softer than any dawn.

You want to press yourself to him. You want to feel his heartbeat against yours and pretend, just for a moment, that you could fuse like that, that you could stitch yourself into his being so there is no you and no him. 

Only us.

But you don’t. Not yet.

Because right now, you are selfish. 

Right now, you want to look, to take him in, to be drunk on the sight of him, every detail carved into you so deeply you will never forget.

So you keep staring. You hoard this moment, etch every detail into your memory as though your mind is parchment and he is ink. 

The slope of his nose, the curve of his mouth, the way his chest rises and falls in rhythm with the entire cosmos.

You close your eyes for a moment and inhale. 

He smells like him. There’s no other way to put it. It’s just James. Grass and wind still cling to him faintly, the ghost of the morning's Quidditch match lingering on his skin. Underneath that is the warmth of leather, well-worn and sun-soaked, threaded into his very pores. He smells clean, soap-soft but not fussy; some woodsy bar his mum keeps stocked, faintly citrus when you press close enough to taste it on your tongue. 

If you breathe deeper, you catch the fainter things. Ink, parchment dust, the shadow of smoke that clings to jumpers worn too close to the Gryffindor’s common room fire.

And beneath it all, something steady, something safe, something you could bury yourself in and never claw your way free.

You whisper his name into the silence, too softly for him to hear, just loud enough for the universe to remember it.

James.

Your James.

Your impossible boy. The golden light that shines in your life.

You open your eyes again, and you think you’re ruined.

Because you know you will never love anyone else like this.

James Potter has ruined you for everyone else.

What astonishes you the most is that he does not know.

He doesn’t know what he is, what he does to you by simply existing.

He wakes every morning and shrugs his jumper over that body, ruffles that hair with casual irreverence, laughs with his friends as though the earth is not tilting beneath his every step. 

He doesn’t know that you look at him and nearly forget your own name. 

He doesn’t know that you, in this exact moment, are staring at him as though he is the thing ever worth looking at.

And maybe that’s why he is unbearable.

Because if he knew —if he knew— how beautiful he is, how dangerous, how devastating, he might lose that boyish ease, that clumsy, carefree sincerity that seeps into everything he does.

He is not flawless. 

Oh no, James Potter is messy. He is cocky and impulsive and loud, his arrogance as much a part of him as the bones in his body. He picks fights he shouldn’t, smirks at professors, laughs when he is not supposed to.

And still, still, even his flaws only make him brighter.

Because beneath the bravado is loyalty that burns like wildfire. Beneath the recklessness is love so ferocious it terrifies you. 

Beneath it all is a boy who would break himself into pieces, gladly, just to make someone else whole.

You want to bottle him.

You want to hold every version of him inside you.

The reckless James, the cocky James, the laughing James, the James who rolls his eyes when Sirius and Remus tease him, the James who softens when he thinks no one is watching, the James asleep right now, vulnerable and unguarded.

You want to hoard him.

Every face, every breath, every heartbeat.

Because how can you not?

How can you look at him and not feel like you are starving?

Your chest aches.

It is too much.

He is too much.

And yet, isn’t that what love is meant to be? Too much, overflowing, impossible to contain?

Isn’t love meant to feel like drowning and flying all at once? 

You love him.

God, you love him.

You love him in ways that are dangerous, in ways that are unspeakable, in ways that make you feel both blessed and doomed.

Because to love James Potter is to step into fire willingly, to let it consume you, to be grateful as you turn to ash.

Your hand betrays you before your mind can even attempt to stop it and you reach for him.

Your fingers tremble in the moonlight, drifting closer to the chaos that is his hair. 

You tell yourself you will not touch, just admire that wild crown that no comb nor spell could ever tame. Just enough to let the ghost of your touch whisper on his curls.

But then one strand slips across his brow, and you can’t stand it.

You tuck it back.

Just that. Just that one lock, soft and weightless against your fingertips.

And you swear you feel it, the whole world holding its breath at the contact.

James doesn’t stir. His lashes do not flutter, his lips stay parted in that sinful, unguarded way. But the faintest smile, so faint you think you might be dreaming it, curves at the corner of his mouth.

Your chest tightens.

You should stop. You should retreat before you wake him, before he catches you staring like some half-mad devotee kneeling at an altar.

But you don’t stop.

You can’t.

Your fingers trail down, feather-light across his temple, down the line of his jaw.

He is warm. So warm. As though the blood in his veins runs hotter than any flame, as though he was made to banish cold from every corner of your body, of your heart.

“James,” you whisper again, so soft the syllables dissolve in the dark.

His chest rises, falls, steady as always.

No answer, no sign.

And yet, you swear his breath shifts, as even in dreams he knows when you call.

Your hand drifts lower still, to the slope of his collarbone where the blanket has left space to his golden skin.

You trace the faint ridge, the delicate hollow. 

He is a boy made of sharp lines and soft ones. A living contradiction.

You press your palm flat there, just above his heart, and feel it beating steady against your skin.

It’s too much.

Too much to hold, too much to bear, too much to know that this chest, this heart, this boy, all of it belongs to you.

You lean in before you can think better of it.

Your lips brush the curve of his cheekbone. Not a kiss, not really, just a whisper of one, as if your very soul is begging to leave its mark on him.

Then they trail just a breath lower, to the corner of his mouth, leaving the same ghost of contact.

You press another kiss, lower still, at the hollow of his throat where his pulse thrums. The beat hammers against your mouth, steady and sure. 

You close your eyes, breathing him in, letting the rhythm swallow you.

He shifts faintly in his sleep, the hand on your lower back pressing unconsciously, pulling you even closer, your bodies meeting and fitting like two halves of the same whole. 

Reflex. Pure instinct. 

Even in his dreams, James holds you as though losing you is not contemplated.

Your heart aches so badly it almost hurts to stay into your own skin.

So you let yourself do it. You fold into him, nuzzle against his chest, bury your face in the crook of his neck.

His warmth seeps into you instantly, flooding your bones, steadying the frantic beat of your own heart.

A soft murmur slips from his throat, the sound curling around you like smoke.

You only catch one word, half-formed, blurred with sleep.

Your name.

The syllables rasp out low and hoarse, but they strike through you like he has carved them into your chest.

Your breath stutters. 

Your hand stills against him as you move your head back just an inch. Enough to witness the light twitch of his eyelids, the slight frown creasing his brow, the same furrow you’ve seen a hundred times.

He nestles his face in the pillow, the softness of his cheek accentuated by the way he almost squishes impossibly against the linen.

He breathes out slowly, a huff that warms your skin.  

For a fleeting moment, you think he might simply roll back into sleep.

But then his lashes flutter again, stubborn against the weight of dreams.

And then, he is waking.

The hazel of his eyes floods your vision, washing over you like the most mesmerizing of waves. Molten, unfocused at first, then sharpening.

And they find you. 

Of course they do.

Even half-asleep, James Potter’s gravity has only one singular pull.

You.

“Mmh,” he hums, rough with sleep, raspy in a way that drags heat down your spine. “Hi.”

“Hey,” your voice comes out hushed, your breath catching just a little.

His eyes are still half-lidded, a little heavy as he asks, “Morning already?” 

He sounds so drowsy, so utterly unwilling to let the world in, that you almost want to lie and say yes just to see him pout about it.

“Not yet,” you whisper instead, your fingertips dragging lightly across his chest, the lean muscles decorating it, tracing absent patterns onto golden skin.

He hums, low and pleased, his thumb grazing over the curve of your naked hip.

Just that small, almost absentminded movement makes your whole body spark alive, like your nerve endings are wired to answer only to him, to his touch alone.

“Why are you up?” his eyes crack open just a fraction more, catching the faint glimmer of the night sky. “Can’t sleep?”

You shift a little, your head settling further into the pillow as a small smile creeps up your face.

It feels ridiculous to even try to explain it when his arm is heavy in the best of ways and warm around you, when the heat of his bare skin anchors you to the mattress, when your body hums just from being this close to him.

So you don’t.

“Something like that,” you offer simply.

His brow furrows faintly, confusion tugging at him through the haze of sleep as he looks at you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle he can’t quite see the pieces of.

“Let’s say I’m…distracted.”

Because, well, it’s the truth, isn’t it? 

The appeal of a restful sleep was lost the moment you caught the moonlight caressing his face, softening his jaw, kissing his lips like the most mesmerizing of visions. 

He tilts his head, mouth quirking, suspicion already gleaming in his hazy gaze. 

“Staring at me, weren't you?”

It isn’t a question. It can’t be when he already perfectly knows the answer. 

It’s amusement, laced with fondness, with something softer than teasing ever has the right to be.

Your pulse trips, your chest flutters, but you can’t hide the bashful smile decorating your face as you shamelessly lie through your teeth.

You don’t even try.

“No…”

He grins against the pillow, smug and knowing. 

Way too knowing.

“Liar,” he whispers, so softly it feels like a secret between him and the stars, his fingers tracing the length of your spine, leaving goosebumps blooming in their wake, reminding you that you’re nothing but soft clay in his hands.

A sound leaves your throat, a small laugh, quiet enough to fill the small space between your bodies without escaping the bubble of warmth surrounding you.

“I suppose I’m guilty,” you breathe, the attempt of a light joke more of a confession than anything else.

Your gaze falters, dipping lower, because looking at him in the eyes as you admit it feels too much like stepping off a cliff.

He makes you bold and shy all at once, and you hate how much you crave the way he notices every flicker of it, every shade of emotion written on your face, every spark of ember in your gaze.

“Any specific reason why?”

His voice is lazy as he adjusts his body to fully face yours —chest to chest, heart to heart— eyes searching you in a way that makes your lungs feel too small, hazel glinting in the darkness.

“Do I really need a reason to just look at you?”

He watches you closely, his voice quiet, a little raw around the edges. 

“I don't know,” you feel his fingers slowly dancing on your skin, trailing from the small of your back to your hip, up the line of your side, brushing over the curve of your shoulder, grazing the hollow of your throat like he can feel your pulse race beneath it. 

He catches a loose strand of hair and tucks it back behind your ear, his touch lingering, thumb pressing warm into your cheek, stroking gently, hypnotizingly. 

“Do you?”

Your lungs seize, your chest feeling tight under the weight of him, the way he looks at you, the closeness, the warmth of his skin against yours.

You can’t hold that look. Not when it feels like it strips you bare.

So you look away. You search for an escape, for a thread of levity to cling to before the heat between you swallows you whole.

“You were talking in your sleep.” 

The words leave your mouth, desperate for deflection, a silent prayer between the lines.

The fondness in your voice, though, betrays you.

“Was I?” his eyes slip close again for a beat, like it costs him effort to stay awake, but the corners of his mouth are curling now, that damned smirk softened into something wreckingly tender. “Bet I was saying something brilliant.”

“Not quite,” you laugh softly, brushing your nose with his. “Just my name.”

That makes him still. 

It’s only a second, but you feel the shift in his body, the hitch of his breath against your temple.

He opens his eyes again, wide enough that the gold in his irises catches in the moonlight.

“Good,” he murmurs, voice dropping lower, dragging against your skin the way his lips do on your forehead, pressing a light, tender kiss there. “Only dream worth having.”

Your heart clenches so violently you have to take a moment to breathe.

Your hand, almost of its own accord, lifts to cup his face, thumb tracing the smooth skin of his cheek, brushing over the pillowy curve of his lips.

James leans into it like it’s nothing, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to have you touch him as if you’ll break otherwise. 

And then he grins, soft and sleepy and so infuriatingly self-satisfied, like the last two pieces of the puzzle he was trying to solve finally clicked together.

“You were kissing me, weren’t you?”

You startle, pull back a fraction. 

The question lands like a spark in your chest, landing somewhere between teasing and certain.

Heat floods your face before you can stop it. 

“I-”

“Knew it,” James interrupts, grinning in the dark, tugging you flush against him before you can scramble for an excuse, his nose brushing your hair, his laugh rumbling right into your bones. “Knew I felt something.”

Your throat works, but no words come out.

You try for composure, but it’s hopeless. Your pulse is thundering, your mouth dry, your body answering every word, every look.

And the worst part, the most dangerous, is how easy it is for him to see it.

You’re pinned, not by his hold, but by the way he’s looking at you as though he read the truth out of the thundering beat of your heart.

“Please,” he whispers, eyes fixed on you with that particular kind of Potter mischief, his mouth tilting lazily in a cocky grin. “Don’t stop on my account.”

“James,” you almost beg. 

The hand still cradling his cheek like evidence you can’t erase attempts to slowly drift away from the softness of his skin in order to maintain at least a speck of composure.

But he doesn’t let you. His hand slides over yours, fingers curling lightly around the back of your hand, pressing it gently to his face.

There’s no roughness, no impatience. Only the quiet insistence that he wants you here, that your touch belongs exactly where it is.

He turns his face into your palm, presses a kiss into the base of your thumb. Slow, reverent, like he’s the one caught worshipping.

You don’t think there are words big enough to describe the way your chest caves.

“No need to look so guilty,” he says against your skin. “If you think I wouldn’t look at you all bloody night if I was actually able to pull an all-nighter, you’ve gone mad.”

Your laugh catches, dissolves too quickly into a trembling breath.

He shifts next to you, stretching like a lion waking, the sheet slipping lower over the line of his hips.

His arm tightens, anchoring you closer, and when he blinks, fully awake this time, there’s no mistaking it. There’s a kind of hunger beneath the softness, sharp and alive.

“C’mere,” he mumbles, already dragging you up over him, your legs falling into place on either side of him so easily it feels like breathing, his hand sliding from your hip to cradle the nape of your neck.

His hair is a wild halo against the pillow, his grin growing.

“If you’re going to kiss me in my sleep, love, you’d better damn well do it while I'm awake too.”

There is no time to argue, no space to breathe.

His mouth finds yours like it's been waiting. Like he’s been waiting his whole bloody life.

It isn’t clumsy, though he is half-drunk on sleep; it isn’t rushed, though his hand fists into your hair like he’s terrified you’ll vanish.

It’s slow, deep, devastating.

He kisses you like he means to pour his very soul into you, like you’ve hunted his every dream and he won’t risk waking without tasting you again.

Your fingers tangle into his dark strands, finally —finally— and he groans low into your mouth, pulling you harder against him, greedy.

When he breaks the kiss, it’s only to breathe, forehead pressed to yours, his chest rising hard and fast against yours.

“Reckon you’re planning to stay up all night, yeah?” he whispers, eyes blazing hazel-gold in the dark. “Cause if you keep kissing me like that, it’ll definitely work.”

You want to say yes. You want to say no. You want to say everything.

But he doesn’t wait for your answer. His hand skims your jaw, tilts your head bringing your mouth back to his, and his smile breaks wide against your lips as he falls back into you. Messier, hungrier.

His mouth is fire on yours, his hand hot at the back of your neck, heartbeat a war drum under your palm.

He kisses like he does everything else: reckless, consuming, every ounce of himself thrown into it without hesitation.

And God, it undoes you.

Every second of watching him sleep has wound you tight, and now that he is awake and kissing you like this, you’re nothing but a thread snapping.

You gasp against him, his tongue brushing yours, and the sound makes him groan deep in his chest.

He rolls with you easily, pressing you into the mattress, sheets tangling, his body flush and deliciously heavy over yours.

It would be so easy.

It would be so easy to let the hunger swallow you both whole, to let it spill over into something feverish and frantic, to lose yourselves to the want that crackles like lightning between your mouths. Especially since you're still hazy from the memory of it, from the taste of him lingering on your lips, the echo of his touch still written across your skin, your muscles still languid and tender from the way he’d loved you into exhaustion not even a two full hours ago.

But then James stills.

Just a beat. Just enough to breathe your name on your lips, soft and reverent.

He pulls back, barely an inch, but enough to meet your eyes. His are liquid fire in the moonlight, pupils blown wide. Yet his smile, God, his smile is softer than anything you’ve ever seen.

“Baby,” he whispers, his thumb brushing your cheekbone. “As much as I'd love to entertain every single thought swirling in your head right now, I think it's better if we get some sleep. Especially you.”

Your throat tightens, because who says that? Who halts fire in its tracks to hand you gentleness instead? Only James Potter. Only this impossible boy who could have the world burning at his fingertips and still choose to hold it gently.

You lift your hand, trace the messy strands of hair at his temple, and whisper back, “I don’t care. I just want you.”

And oh, how his grin softens at that. 

He ducks his head, presses a slow, devastating, lingering kiss to your mouth, then another to the tip of your nose, then your temple.

He rolls back, tugging you against his chest, his arms curling around you like fortress walls.

“Greedy thing,” he whispers, lips brushing your hairline, “You're gonna wake up tired and sulking tomorrow if you don't rest well, you know that.”

The words are scolding on the surface, but there’s no weight behind them. Just slight worry and affection. Just the faint curl of his breath against your skin, the low vibration of his voice in his chest where your palm rests. 

He says it like he’s pretending to be stern. But you know better.

You know James Potter would carry your exhaustion for you if such a thing were possible. He would prop you up, joke you into laughter, even drag the sun back down from the sky if it dared to rise before you were ready to welcome its light. He always would.

That thought sinks too deep, catches behind your ribs. 

You bury your face in the curve of his neck, lips caressing his skin.

“Good thing I have a boyfriend who knows exactly how to lift my mood up then.” 

His laugh is quiet, warm, humming through you.

“Mmh,” his nose nudges against your hair, and you can feel the shape of his smile ghosting your temple. He sounds almost smug, cocky even, but the gentleness and fondness of his voice makes it break into something much softer. “You're quite lucky, you know?”

You nearly snort at that, because if he only knew. If he only knew the way your whole chest caves every time he so much as looks at you, the way the world feels smaller without his laughter, the way you’ve caught yourself memorizing every feature of his beautiful face as though you could sketch it blind.

Your fingers curl into his chest, nails grazing his skin like you’re trying to leave proof of how desperately you believe his words to be the absolute truth.

Because ‘lucky’ doesn’t even begin to cover it. 

Not for the way he makes the world shrink to just the two of you even in a room full of people. Not for the way he notices every single thing about you, from the curve of your shoulders when you’re tense to the small quirk in your smile when he does something so utterly ridiculous, yet you can’t control the surge of feelings overwhelming you despite that. As if memorizing even the most trivial things about you was the most important task in his life.

So you press closer, slotting yourself tighter against his body like he might be able to read all of it —the gratitude, the hunger, the awe— directly out of your bones, and lean in, your mouth settling just above his heart, pressing a soft, reverent kiss against the steady rhythm.

“I know.”

Then the room goes still, the universe folding back into his steady breathing, his hands firm and sure around you, as though to tether you here forever.

You close your eyes, letting his heartbeat lull you, and think, yes. This.

This is how you want to wake up every day of your life.

Hello beautiful people 💗

Not me greeting you like it hasn't been six months from my last update😀. I know, I know, I deserve all of the tomatos. Trust me, I do. But, thankfully, studying for my English Literature exam brought back some of my creativity and will to write (can you tell I was in my feels ? yeah, it's all the poetry I'm currently reading, I'm sorry) and this little thing came to life.

I hope it's ok, seeing it's the first work I have been able to complete in a while.

Unfortunately, I don't think I will be able to fully come back any time soon. But I want to tell you that I will come back, later rather than sooner maybe, but I will. Don't think you'll get rid of me so easily🤨.

With that said, I want to thank all of you who are still here. You make me so immensely grateful and happy❤

Thank you for reading, and i'll catch you in the next one <3

[juleswritesstuff]

Sugar (and it tastes so sweet)

It started with an ice cream and a smirk. Now, Theo is on the verge of autocombustion. Who knew dessert would come with a side of thirst ?

theo nott x fem!reader

warnings: smut

Ice cream is cold.

He knows it is. Everyone knows it.

It’s a fact. A universal knowledge. An undeniable truth.

It’s fucking science, or whatever. 

He doesn’t care. He can’t think straight right now. Can’t form a singular thought that would make sense.

Because the way you’re eating that sweet, freezing, and addictive treat, sure does the opposite of cooling him down. 

It burns him alive.

Theo sits across from you, one arm draped over the back of the booth, a lazy picture of nonchalance. 

But he is anything but relaxed. 

His fingers flex against the worn leather of the seat, nails pressing crescent moons into the fabric. 

He is supposed to be listening to Mattheo, nodding along to whatever inane thing he is ranting about, but Theo can barely hear him. 

He can hardly think past the way your tongue flicks against the ice cream cone in your hand, slow and unhurried, gathering the melting sweetness with a deliberate sort of attention that makes his breath catch.

“Mate, are you even listening ?” Mattheo waves a hand in front of his face, scowling.

Theo blinks, tearing his gaze away from your lips for half a second.

“Yeah” he lies, voice rough “Something about… a bet ?”

Mattheo snorts. “Right. You’re useless” 

Lorenzo, sitting beside him, chuckles under his breath. 

“More like distracted” his gaze flickers between Theo and you, suspicion glinting in his eyes “What’s got you so out of it, Nott ?”

Theo clenches his jaw. “Nothing”

But it’s not nothing. 

It’s you.

You, who take another lick of your ice cream, lips wrapping around the tip of the cone with obscene slowness. 

It’s purposeful now. 

He knows it is. 

Because your eyes flick to his through the dark fringe of your lashes, gleaming with something wicked. 

Your tongue darts out again, a teasing little flick, and then you hum. Just a soft sound, barely a murmur of pleasure, but it makes heat slam into his gut like a punch.

Theo grips his knee so tightly he might bruise himself. 

His cock twitches in his jeans, stiffening as filthy thoughts barrel into his mind. 

He tries –Merlin, he really fucking tries– to focus on something else. Anything else. The chatter around him, the clinking of glasses, the buzz of conversation. 

But all he can think about is your mouth. That pretty, sinful mouth and all the things it could be doing to him instead.

“Something wrong, Theo ?” your lips curl, like you know exactly what you’re doing to him. 

Of course you do. 

You’re a menace. A goddamn siren sent to drive him mad.

He grits his teeth. “No”

You tilt your head, eyes sparkling. 

“You sure ?” another slow lick, the tip of your tongue flicking against the melting ice cream “You seem… distracted”

Enzo raises a brow. “That’s what I said”

Theo exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. 

“I’m fine” he mutters, his voice tight, strained.

But you aren’t done yet. 

No, because now you’re letting the ice cream melt, a single drop slipping past your lips, trailing down your wrist. 

You sigh as you lick it up, slow and languid, the pink of your tongue gliding against your skin in a way that is absolutely fucking indecent.

Theo swears under his breath. His jaw clenches so hard it aches. 

He shouldn’t be thinking about you like this. Not here. Not in public. Not when he’s surrounded by your friends, his friends, who are all oblivious to the absolute torment he is in. 

He wants to grab you. Drag you out of this booth, press you up against the nearest wall, and shove his fingers into that sinful mouth of yours just to see how far you’ll take this little game. Just to see if you’ll still have that smug look when he’s ruining you.

Your eyes sparkle, like you can read his mind. Like you know exactly what he’s thinking. 

And then –oh, you absolute devil– you moan. 

Softly. Barely more than a whisper. 

But it’s enough. Enough to make his cock throb against his zipper. Enough to have his hands curling into fists, digging his nails into his palms as he fights for control.

Mattheo and Lorenzo keep talking, oblivious, something about Pansy and Blaise owing them ten Galleons over a Quidditch match. But Theo doesn’t hear a word of it.

He grits his teeth, trying to school his features into something remotely neutral, but it’s useless. 

When he dares look back at you, you’re still at it, your lips now wrapped around the tip of the cone, tongue flicking out to lap at the edges. 

Your cheeks hollow ever so slightly as you suck, and Theo’s vision goes white for a second.

He is going to fucking die.

You pull away, just a little, tongue running along your bottom lip, tasting the sweetness there. 

Your gaze flicks to his, and you tilt your head, all wide-eyed innocence.

“Are you sure you're ok ?” you press, eyes locked onto his “Because you seem a little hot”

Lorenzo snickers. “Yeah, mate. You’re flushed”

Theo clenches his jaw, reaching for his drink just to have something to do with his hands. He takes a long sip, the cold liquid doing nothing to quell the heat burning through him. “It’s warm in here. That's all”

You hum, unconvinced. “Right”

Then you take another long, languid lick of the ice cream, and fuck, he’s going to lose his mind.

Mattheo rolls his eyes. “I swear, you two are weird” 

He turns back to Lorenzo, shaking his head.

Theo exhales slowly, trying to compose himself. But you don’t let him. 

Of course you don’t. 

You lean in just a fraction, lowering your voice. “You look like you’re about to break”

Theo gives you a sharp, warning look. 

“Keep pushing” he murmurs, voice low, dark “See what happens”

Your lips curl. “Is that a promise ?”

Oh, you little–

He swallows hard, dragging a hand over his mouth.

He is going to ruin you.

But not here. Not now. Not when he’s one breath away from losing all self-restraint in front of his friends. 

You take one final, exaggerated lick of your ice cream before giving him a look so sweet, so utterly full of feigned innocence, that it takes everything in him not to wipe that smirk off your face in the most sinful way possible right then and there.

Instead, he just smiles –sharp, dangerous, a silent promise.

You want to play, little vixen ? Fine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You hadn’t planned on teasing him.

Really, you hadn’t.

At first, you were just enjoying your ice cream, sitting comfortably in your seat, not thinking much of anything if not the heavenly sweetness coating your tastebuds. 

But then you felt it. It was impossible not to.

That look.

The one that scorches, that lingers, that says a million filthy things without a single word being spoken. The one that makes your skin tingle, your stomach twist, your breath hitch ever so slightly.

Theo’s always looked at you like that –like he’s starving– but tonight ? Tonight, there’s something different about it.

Something darker.

Hungrier.

And maybe that’s what does it.

Maybe that’s why, when you catch him watching you, his fingers flexing like he’s physically restraining himself, you decide –on a whim, really– to be a menace.

You can tell he’s suffering.

It’s in the way his jaw keeps clenching, the way his fingers twitch against his thigh like he’s refraining from doing something reckless.

Like grabbing you.

Like dragging you away from the table and pressing you up against the nearest wall.

Like claiming you right here, right now, in front of everyone.

And honestly ? The thought is thrilling.

Because Theo isn’t patient. Not really. 

Oh, he can pretend to be. Can put on that mask of cool, effortless indifference like it’s second nature. 

But beneath it ? Beneath all that carefully controlled composure ? He’s pure fire.

And right now, that fire is smoldering.

You can see it in his eyes, dark and heavy-lidded as they track every move you make. In the way he watches the slow, deliberate drag of your tongue over the ice cream, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. In the way his hands clench into fists every time you shift just a little closer, teasing the space between you, making it smaller and smaller.

God, he’s trying. He really is.

But you can tell.

You can feel it.

He’s going to break.

The ice cream is almost gone now, but you’re still teasing him, still testing the limits of his patience.

Theo drums his fingers against his leg, watching you with the kind of intensity that should set you on fire. 

Maybe it does. Maybe that’s why your smirk has turned into something softer, something more dangerous.

You’re playing a game. 

But you don’t realize that Theo never plays to lose.

“Alright, that’s it” he mutters under his breath, voice just low enough for only you to hear.

You raise a brow. “What’s it ?”

His tongue flicks over his bottom lip as he leans in slightly, close enough that his breath fans against your cheek. “You keep this up, and I’m going to have to do something about it, bambolina”

Your stomach flips. 

You tilt your head, feigning innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about”

Theo chuckles darkly, shaking his head. “Oh, you’re such a liar”

Mattheo, who has been watching the two of you with barely concealed amusement and a slight hint of disgust, suddenly claps a hand on Theo’s shoulder. “Alright, mate, I can’t take it anymore. Either you stop, or get up and leave so you can finally, royally fuck each other's brains out, ok ? Or I swear to Merlin, I’m going to throw something at you”

Theo glares at him. “Fuck off”

Lorenzo frowns, glancing between the two of you. “Wait, what’s going on ?”

Mattheo smirks. “You didn't notice ? Our boy here has been eye-fucking Y/n for the past ten minutes and doing a shit job at pretending otherwise”

You stifle a laugh, biting your lip as Theo scowls and hisses a “Shut the fuck up, Riddle”

Enzo blinks, then groans loudly. “For fuck’s sake, just shag already. The tension is suffocating”

You grin, swirling the last remnants of your ice cream with your tongue before pressing your lips together thoughtfully. “That’s a tempting suggestion”

Theo clenches his jaw. 

He is two seconds away from losing his mind.

Lorenzo emits another dramatic sigh. “Merlin, just put him out of his misery”

You glance at Theo, amusement dancing in your eyes. “Should I ?”

His fingers flex. His patience is gone, shattered by your relentless teasing and the way his friends are making it worse. 

His lips curl into a slow, wicked smirk.

“No,” he murmurs “I think I should put you out of yours”

His gaze trails on your figure, slow, burning with its intensity, until it stops at your crossed legs.

Your breath catches, your thighs clenching together unconsciously, as if proving to him that you were indeed in a misery of your own.

Mattheo groans, shoving his drink away. “Okay, I’m leaving. I refuse to witness whatever the fuck is about to happen”

Lorenzo just laughs, shaking his head as he follows Mattheo toward the bar. “Try not to get arrested, yeah ?”

Theo waits until they’re gone before leaning in, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You think you’re cute, don’t you ?”

You grin. A little mischievous, a little wicked. “I know I am”

His hand slides under the table, brushing against your thigh. It’s barely a touch, but it sends a shiver up your spine.

“You’ve been playing all night,” his fingers dance on your denim clad skin, light, almost innocent “time to find out if you can handle losing”

Your pulse spikes, heat curling in your stomach. “Seems to me, I’m winning instead”

Theo’s smirk deepens, his fingers squeezing your thigh just enough to send a rivulet of heat down your spine. “We’ll see about that”

You exhale sharply, and he leans in, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Let’s go”

It’s not a request.

Your breath hitches. 

Theo’s fingers are still on your thigh, warm and firm, a silent promise of everything that’s coming.

You should make him work for it. You should smirk, tease him just a little more. 

But the look in his eyes ? Dark, hungry, impatient ?

It makes you want to follow him without a second thought.

“Where ?” you murmur, voice softer now.

His thumb strokes your leg, slow, deliberate. “Somewhere I can shut you up properly, and make good use of that teasing little mouth of yours”

Heat pools in your stomach. Your tongue flicks over your bottom lip, and Theo’s gaze drops to your mouth, his pupils blown wide.

“Tempting” you hum, letting the word drip from your lips like honey.

His jaw tightens. “Get up, sweetheart”

Oh. That was definitely not a request.

You’re about to stand when–

“You cannot be serious”

Mattheo’s voice cuts through the moment like a blade.

Theo exhales sharply, turning to face him with a glare. “What ? Didn’t you say you were leaving ?”

Mattheo throws his hands up. “I left for five minutes to go pay for your horny ass, you wanker. And you’re already about to drag her off to Merlin knows where ? Fucking hell, are you an animal or a man ?”

Lorenzo, standing beside him with a drink in hand, smirks. “Told you he wouldn’t last”

You fight the urge to laugh, but Theo is not amused. His hand leaves your thigh, and you instantly miss the warmth.

“Are you done ?” he deadpans.

Mattheo scoffs. 

“No, actually. Because this-” he gestures between the two of you, his expression a grimace that makes it almost impossible for you to hold the laugh threatening to slip out “-is disgusting to witness. And I would really like to keep my appetite”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re the one interrupting us”

Lorenzo takes a sip from his glass, his mouth curling against the rim as he watches the exchange like it’s the best entertainment he’s had in weeks. “She’s got a point”

Mattheo groans. “Fine, whatever. Go. Be gross. Anything but witnessing live porn”

Theo doesn’t even acknowledge him. His hand is already back on your leg, his fingers gripping just a little tighter.

You let that tension stretch between you, let it build, let him wait–

Then, without a word, you stand.

Theo follows immediately, his hand finding the small of your back as he steers you away from the booth, away from your smirking friends, away from everything that isn’t him.

You hear a distinct “Worse that fucking rabbits, man. I swear” coming from Mattheo, and the heartfelt laugh Enzo lets out right after.

But you don’t focus on it. You can’t. 

Your heart is pounding. The air between you is thick with anticipation.

The second you step outside, Theo is on you.

His hand grips your waist, pulling you flush against him, his other hand tilting your chin up as his lips crash into yours.

It’s not soft. It’s not careful. It’s desperate, full of all the tension that’s been brewing all night.

You moan against his mouth, and that’s all it takes for him to lose the last shred of restraint he had left.

He presses you back against the nearest wall, his body a solid, burning heat against yours. 

His lips move against yours like he’s been starving for this, like he’s making up for every second he had to sit there and watch you tease him.

You tug at his hair, and he groans, the sound vibrating through you. His hands are everywhere –your waist, your hips, sliding under your shirt just to feel your skin.

“Theo” you gasp between kisses.

His lips trail down your jaw, his teeth grazing your neck. 

“This is your fault” he murmurs, his voice rough.

You shiver. “Oh ?”

He nips at your pulse point, soothing the sting with his tongue. “You started this. Now you’re going to deal with the consequences”

Your breath stutters. “And what are these consequences ?”

Theo pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with something dangerous.

“You’ll find out,” he whispers “when we get back to my place”

Your stomach flips. Your hands grip his shirt, your pulse hammering in anticipation.

“Then what are we waiting for ?”

Theo grins –sharp, wicked, possessive.

“Good girl”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night air is cool against your skin, but it does nothing to calm the heat curling low in your stomach. Not when Theo’s hand is gripping yours, his pace unrelenting as he guides you through the dimly lit streets.

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t have to.

His grip is firm, like he’s afraid if he lets go, you might disappear. Like he’s afraid he might wake up and realize this was all just another torturous fantasy.

You squeeze his hand, just to remind him that you’re real. That this is real.

You both may treat it like a game, a reckless race at who will fold first. But you know better than to think it meaningless.

You and Theo might be stubborn, but you aren't stupid.

This is more than what it seems.

Theo’s pace quickens. The fire in his eyes grows.

By the time you reach his place, he barely gets the door open before he’s on you again.

The second you step inside, your back is against the door, his mouth slanting over yours in a kiss that steals the breath from your lungs.

You whimper as his hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against him. You can feel how hard he is through his jeans, can feel the heat of him pressing against you, and it sends a wave of arousal through you.

“You think it’s funny ?” Theo mutters against your lips, his hands sliding up your waist, pushing under your shirt “Teasing me all night like that ?”

Your head spins. “A little”

His fingers tighten, digging into your skin. 

“Well, in that case” his voice is pure sin, his teeth grazing at your bottom lip “You’re going to regret it”

You shiver as a small, mischievous grin blooming on your lips. “I think I'll enjoy it, actually”

Theo’s eyes flash with something hot. Something scorching. Then he’s lifting you –effortlessly, like you weigh nothing– and you barely have time to gasp before your back hits the wall.

Your legs wrap around his waist on instinct, and fuck- the feeling of him pressed between your thighs has your head falling back with a moan.

Theo takes full advantage, his lips trailing down your throat, teeth scraping, biting, soothing with his tongue. His hands slide up, kneading the plump flesh of your ass, elicitng a quiet hiss that gets promptly swallowed by his mouth on yours.

“You drive me fucking insane” he murmurs, his voice rough with need “You know that ?”

You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. “Really ? I hadn't noticed”

Theo growls. Actually growls.

And then he’s moving, carrying you through the darkened apartment with ease, his grip never faltering. You barely register when he kicks open a door before you’re being thrown onto his bed.

You have little time to catch your breath before he’s on you again, hovering over you, his body a mess of heat and tension and barely restrained control.

But not for long.

Not anymore.

He presses a knee between your legs, pushing them apart, and damn, the exquisite and very much needed pressure makes you gasp.

Theo smirks. “Look at you”

Your breath comes in short, ragged pants. “What about me ?”

His fingers trace up your thigh, featherlight, teasing.

“You’re shaking” his lips brush against your ear, his voice barely above a whisper “What happened to all that confidence, sweetheart ?”

You swallow hard. “There's still too much fucking fabric between us, Nott”

Theo chuckles, dark and low. “Not for long”

And then he kisses you again. Deeper, hungrier, filled with every ounce of frustration, every bit of restraint he’s about to shatter.

Maybe that’s why it’s always felt like this –like every lingering glance, every near-touch, every sharp-tongued argument was leading to something neither of you could name, something dangerous and undeniable. Like that unspoken something between you two had never been a coincidence but a carefully woven thread binding you together, tightening with every stolen moment, every unspoken want.

Because it was.

It would explain the years of poorly covered tension.

The way his eyes had always lingered a second too long. The way his voice had always dipped when he said your name. The way he’d pressed too close in crowded hallways, in dimly lit rooms, in the spaces where no one was watching, his fingers brushing over the small of your back when he passed by, fleeting and deliberate.

And you ?

You had played with fire just as much as he had.

The way you’d nursed a drink at a party and let your tongue dart out just so to catch a stray drop, knowing damn well his eyes were on your mouth. The way you’d stretch in front of him, arms overhead, back arching just enough to draw his attention, just enough to make his jaw go tight. The way you’d let your fingers ghost over his wrist when handing him something, pretending not to notice the way his breath hitched.

It had always been obvious to anyone around you. This unnamed thing between you and Theo. 

It wasn’t just stolen glances or accidental touches –it was blatant, undeniable, loud. It was the kind of tension that filled entire rooms, made people shift uncomfortably or roll their eyes because they knew. They all knew. And you didn’t care. 

Because this wasn’t for them. It was never for them.

It was for him.

It was for you.

People commented. Of course, they did.

But you never cared. Not even a little.

Because it was never about making them see. It was about making him see. About testing him, pushing him, seeing how far you could take it –how much he could take– before he finally snapped.

You weren’t playing for an audience.

You were playing for him.

And Theo had played right back.

Your hands drag over the muscles of his back, tracing the shape of him, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin. Your nails dig in just enough to make him feel you, to make him know that you are just as much a part of this as he is.

Your mouth finds the column of his throat, lips trailing lower, your tongue flicking out to taste the salt of his skin, to mark the path down, down, down.

Theo groans, low and wrecked, his head tipping back, his grip tightening around your waist.

His hands are everywhere –trailing up your sides, slipping under your shirt, mapping the curves of your body like he’s trying to memorize them. 

He’s not rushing. No, he’s taking his time, savoring every second, making sure you feel everything.

Your breath stutters as his fingers toy with the hem of your shirt before slipping beneath it, palms warm and firm against your bare, heated skin. His touch is electrifying, sending shivers up your spine.

“You’re so soft” he murmurs almost reverent, dragging his lips down your jaw, across the column of your throat.

You arch into him, your body betraying you, begging for more.

His lips curl against your skin. “So needy already ?”

You glare at him, but it’s useless when you’re gasping under his touch, when you’re gripping his shoulders like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

“You’re talking too much” you manage to breathe out.

Theo chuckles, his teeth scraping over your pulse point before he bites.

You gasp, your nails digging into his arms. “Theo-”

His tongue flicks over the mark, soothing the light sting before he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes are dark, pupils so blown wide with hunger the blue of irises succumbs to the blackness.

“I’ll stop talking” he murmurs, smirking “But only if you beg me”

Your lips curl into a defiant half-smirk, yet your stomach flips. “You wish”

His fingers trail lower, teasing the waistband of your jeans, but never dipping beneath. His touch is maddening, just light enough to leave you desperate.

Theo tilts his head, watching you with a knowing, taunting smirk. “I can do this all night, sweetheart”

You bite your lip, fighting the urge to give in. But he sees it. He knows he’s winning.

His fingers dip just slightly beneath the fabric, and your hips buck on instinct.

Theo groans. 

“Fuck-” his voice is ragged now, the teasing edge slipping “-look at you”

You try to glare again, unsurprisingly failing.

“Admit it-” he breathes, pressing his forehead against yours “-you love this little game, don’t you ?”

Your pride wars with your need. But then his fingers slip just a little lower, and all rational thought disappears.

You grip his shirt, pulling him closer, your lips barely brushing his.

“Please” you whisper.

Theo stills.

Then, ever so slowly, he grins.

“There’s my good girl”

No words should have that kind of power.

And yet, somehow, when they come from him, from that smug, devastating mouth, they do. They slip under your skin, wrap around your ribs, settle low and insistent in your stomach like they belong there. Like he belongs there.

Which is mildly annoying.

Because you’d like to think you have a little more self-control than this. That you’re not the type to get all breathless over two little words and a wicked smirk. That a simple ‘good girl’ shouldn’t make your spine melt like sugar in tea.

And yet, here you are.

Theo’s lips crash back onto yours, and this time, there’s no teasing. No control. Just raw, desperate need. 

His hands move with purpose, tugging your shirt off, discarding it carelessly onto the floor, revealing your bare skin to him.

He doesn’t waste a second, his lips trailing down your neck, over your collarbone, his tongue flicking against your sensitive skin, making you gasp and arch into him.

You’re already on fire, every inch of your body begging for more, your hands roaming to his chest, tugging at his shirt, wanting him as much as he wants you.

Theo watches you with a dark gleam in his eyes as you pull his shirt over his head, throwing it aside and letting your fingers run over his chest. 

His skin is warm under your touch, muscles tense as you feel him quiver just slightly under your hands.

“You have no idea how much I want you” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear.

You shiver. “I think I have a pretty good idea”

And you really do. Because you want him just as much.

He chuckles huskily, his lips brushing against your neck as his hands slide to your jeans, swiftly unbuttoning them before pulling them down your legs. You lift your hips to help him, but the moment the fabric is gone, he pauses, his gaze locking onto your body with such intensity that it makes you dizzy.

“You’re so fucking beautiful” he breathes, raugh and low, like the words slipped out before he could stop them.

His eyes drag over you slowly, taking everything in like he is trying to memorize it, burn it into his mind so he’d never forget.

He looks at you like you are art. Real, breathing art.

His gaze follows the slope of your collarbone, the way your chest rises and falls with every shaky breath. And when it drops lower, he doesn’t even try to hide it.

He stares, shameless and hungry, at the way your nipples harden under his gaze, the way goosebumps ripple over your skin like his eyes alone had touched you.

His fingers trace the outline of your bare thigh, just teasing the edges of your skin before moving closer.

Your breath catches, your body craving more, but you know he’s savoring this. Every single second of it.

“I’m not the only one” you exhale, your hand slipping down to unbuckle his belt. His body shudders as you slide it free, then undo his pants and pull them down along with his underwear with practiced ease.

Theo groans as you finally free him, his breath catching in his throat as you wrap your hand around him. His eyes flutter shut for a moment, as if your touch alone is too much. “Fuck- just like that”

You lean up and kiss him deeply, your hand still moving slowly, torturously, up and down his length. He’s throbbing in your grip, hot and hard, his hips jerking slightly as you tease him with just enough pressure to make him desperate.

Theo’s hands grip your hips, pulling you toward him until there’s barely any space between you. 

“Making me lose my damn mind” he groans.

You smile, a little wicked, and stop.

He opens his eyes, his gaze burning. “Don’t you dare-”

You lean in and whisper against his lips, “Or ?”

He groans in frustration, grabbing you by the wrists and pinning them above your head, his body pressing harder against yours as the soft matress kisses your back once again. 

“This kind of attitude will get you in trouble, you know ?” he warns, his voice hoarse, his breath warm against your cheeks.

“Oh my, I’m shivering” you reply, defiant and eager for what comes next.

Without warning, he shifts. Your heart races as he moves over you, straddling your hips with his knees. His eyes never leave yours as he slowly, deliberately, pulls down your panties, exposing you completely.

You’re aching for him. For the feel of him, of his body against yours, filling you.

He leans down, his lips brushing yours in a slow, teasing kiss before they move lower, trailing across your jaw, down your neck, over your collarbone. 

His breath is warm, his touch even warmer as he moves lower, trailing kisses along the curve of your breasts before his mouth closes around one nipple, his tongue flicking teasingly.

You moan, your back arching involuntarily, chasing his mouth, and Theo groans in approval, his hand moving to your other breast, massaging it gently as his mouth graces you with the sweetest of suctions.

You tug at his hair, urging him to keep going, but he pulls back, his lips just inches from yours. 

“Want me to make you feel good, baby ?” he breathes, his voice rough with need.

You nod, your heart pounding in anticipation. “Yes. Please”

Theo’s grin is dark and satisfied, and without another word, he moves lower, his lips trailing down your stomach, his hands parting your thighs.

“All mine” he murmurs, his voice low and possessive “Sei tutta per me” (You're all mine)

Your body shudders with the intensity of his words, the promise of what’s to come making your chest tighten with desire.

Theo doesn’t waste any more time. His tongue flicks out, teasing you with the slightest brush against your skin. Your hands dig into the sheets as he dips lower, his movements calculated and slow. 

He’s dragging this out, making you feel every second of it.

You can barely catch your breath as he continues, every touch, every kiss, driving you further into madness. 

You’ve never been more desperate for someone in your life.

Theo’s touch is slow, deliberate. Every movement, every brush of his lips against your skin is meant to drive you mad, to pull you deeper into the haze he’s weaving around you. 

His hands grip your thighs, holding you in place as he continues his slow descent, his mouth following the path of his fingers.

Your breath stutters when his lips press to the sensitive skin just above your hip bone, lingering there, teasing. He’s savoring this –savoring you– as if he has all the time in the world, as if he isn’t already unraveling you with every passing second.

“You’re so beautiful like this” he whispers, his voice hushed, reverent “Falling apart for me”

His fingers tighten, a silent reminder of just how much control he has, just how much he’s enjoying this.

You can barely think.

Your fingers slip into his hair, tugging, trying to pull him closer, urging him on. 

He groans softly, the sound vibrating against your skin, sending another shiver down your spine.

“You’re impatient” he muses, lips curving into a smirk, brushing against the sensitive skin of your thigh “Too bad I like taking my time”

You whimper, the fire inside you growing unbearable, and he knows. He can see it, feel it. How wet you are, how you are literally dripping with need. 

And yet, he doesn’t rush.

Instead, he presses another lingering kiss to your thigh, his hands flexing against your skin, his tongue flicking out in a slow, lazy stroke that makes you shudder. He’s taking you apart methodically, savoring every reaction, every tiny gasp and twitch of your body.

Then, finally, his lips move lower.

Without hesitation, without another second of restraint he leans in.

You barely have time to react before his mouth is on you.

Hot. Wet. Heavenly.

A sharp gasp is snatched from your lips as Theo groans against your skin, the sound low, wrecked, vibrating through you like a live wire. It sends a slow shiver rolling through your entire body, stealing the breath from your lungs.

But he doesn't rush.

No, as he said, Theo takes his sweet fucking time.

His tongue flicks out, teasing, tasting, barely there. Just enough to make you ache, to make you squirm. His breath ghosts over your skin, hot and heavy, sending goosebumps skittering up your spine.

Your hands clench in the sheets, fingers grasping at nothing as he presses a slow, lingering kiss on your most sensitive spot.

Soft. Gentle. Torturous.

Your hips jerk instinctively, desperate for more, but Theo just chuckles against you, his lips curving into a knowing smirk.

“What's the rush, bambolina ?” he whispers, his voice a deep, velvety tease “Relax. Let me enjoy you” (babydoll)

A frustrated whimper leaves your throat, your head tipping back against the pillows.

Then, with a calculated slowness, he moves. His hands slide down your thighs, caressing the soft flesh, warm and steady before he effortlessly lifts your legs, draping them over his broad shoulders. 

The movement is seamless, effortless, like this is second nature to him, like you fit here, in his hands, against his mouth, around him. There’s no hesitation, no uncertainty, only the quiet confidence of a man who knows exactly what he’s doing, exactly where he wants you.

The shift in position steals the air from your lungs, a soft gasp slipping from your parted lips as the new angle makes you feel open, vulnerable, his.

Theo settles between your thighs like it’s the only place he’s ever meant to be, like there is nowhere else in the world he wants to be. And the way he looks at you –like he’s on his knees before something divine, like he’s about to worship you in ways you’ve never known– sends a delicious shiver down your spine.

A slow smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as his hands tighten, fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your thighs, holding you steady. The heat in his gaze burns into you, heavy and full of intent.

You think he’s going to dive in right away. You need him to do something, anything, right away.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he leans in slowly, torturously, his breath skimming over your skin, teasing without ever touching. And when his lips finally brush against the inside of your thigh –just the lightest kiss, barely there– it’s enough to make your entire body jolt with anticipation.

He kisses his way up, each one hotter, more deliberate than the last, and you swear each soft press of his lips brands you, leaving his mark on your skin.

He chuckles against your skin, low and knowing. 

He likes this. Loves it. 

Loves the way you react to him, loves the way your breath catches and your fingers twitch like you don’t know whether to pull him closer or push him away.

He presses another kiss, lingering this time, warm and deliberate. Then another. And another. Higher.

“Comfortable ?” he hums on your skin, his voice a dark velvety tease.

The question is laced with something dangerous, something that sends a shiver up your spine. Because you know him. You know that smirk, that low, taunting lilt to his voice. You know he’s enjoying this, enjoying the way your breath stutters, the way your body responds to him.

You don’t answer. You can’t.

You don’t even have time to think of a reply, because he leans in, giving you the barest, laziest drag of his tongue, lapping at your folds languidly.

And, just like that, your brain loses all its proper functions.

You suck in a sharp breath, your fingers flying to his hair, grasping at the thick strands, tugging slightly.

Theo groans at the feeling, his hands tightening on your thighs, holding you in place as he does it again. Slow, warm and excruciatingly unhurried.

He isn’t giving you what you want.

He is giving you what he wants.

And, apparently, what he wants is to savour you like you are the last meal he’ll ever have the pleasure to taste.

His tongue moves with maddening patience, stroking, tasting. 

He isn’t in a hurry. No, he is languid, thorough, tracing every inch of you like he has all the time in the world.

Like he wants to memorize you.

The sounds falling from your lips only seem to encourage him. He hums in satisfaction, the vibration sending another sharp jolt of pleasure through your body.

Your muscles tense around his shoulders, your breath hitching as he closes his lips around you and gives you a gentle suck.

A strangled moan rips from your throat.

Theo groans, low and satisfied, his grip tightening like he can feel the way you're falling apart under him. His hands slide up your thighs, fingers pressing in just enough to ground you, to hold you right where he wants you as he worships you with his tongue, his whole mouth.

You choke on his name, unable to stop the sounds that slip from your lips, to stop the way your body trembles beneath his touch.

“That’s it” he pants, his voice thick with desire, muffled against your drenched heat “Let me hear you”

A wrecked sound tears from your throat as he licks into you, deeper, slower, his tongue moving with excruciating precision, circling, stroking, dipping into you, dragging arousal from your body like a secret he’s coaxing out one breathless moan at a time.

Your hips jolt against him, seeking the friction, the pleasure, but he holds you down with ease, his fingers flexing against your skin in a silent warning.

“Easy, baby” he murmurs, lips dragging against you, his voice dark and dripping with amusement “I’m not going anywhere”

And then –God– he moans.

Low, deep, ruined.

Like he is the one unraveling. Like the taste of you is doing things to him, making him lose himself.

His fingers hold you tighter, his mouth pressing into you deeper, his tongue slow and sinful as he licks into you, savoring the taste, the heat, the way you tremble under him, around him.

“So sweet-” he rasps, the words slurred, heavy with hunger “-so fucking perfect”

Your breath hitches, your fingers tightening in his brown locks as he gives you another slow, deliberate stroke of his tongue.

Your body arches, your thighs trembling, but Theo doesn’t let up. If anything, he goes slower, letting you sink into the unbearable, maddening pleasure of it.

Your vision blurs, the coil in your stomach twisting, winding tighter, and tighter–

And Theo knows.

He can feel it, hear it in the way your breath turns ragged, in the way your body starts to tense.

“Come on, bambolina” he whispers against your soaked heat, tongue flicking once, twice, right where you need it, his voice nothing but smoke and heat “Give it to me”

He groans again, this one deep and satisfied, his fingers tightening, his tongue moving just a little firmer, a little more focused.

Until you shatter.

The pleasure crashes over you in slow, rolling waves, your body shaking, your breath stolen, your fingers fisting in his hair as your thighs clamp around his head.

Theo moans, low and approving, holding you through it, letting you ride it out as he licks you through every aftershock, every little shiver that rocks through you, soothing you with slow, lazy kisses against your skin, his hands tracing gentle patterns over your trembling thighs.

When he finally pulls away, his gaze meets yours, dark and full of pride. His lips are swollen, slick with the essence of your arousal, his breathing just as ragged as yours.

“Fuck- Y/n” he murmurs, brushing his thumb over your cheek, his expression softening “You’re breathtaking”

You barely have time to catch your breath before he shifts, hovering over you once more, his body pressing into yours.

His tongue flicks out slowly, deliberately, dragging across his bottom lip like he is savoring your taste.

Theo doesn’t give you a chance to recover. His lips are on yours before you can even steady your breathing, stealing what little composure you have left.

His kiss is slow, deep, possessive, like he wants to remind you exactly who just unraveled you, who’s about to do it again.

You can taste yourself on him, and the thought alone sends another wave of heat through you.

He must notice the way your breath hitches, because he smirks against your mouth. 

“You like that, don’t you ?” his voice is low, teasing, dripping with satisfaction.

You glare at him, what little glare you can manage while still gasping for breath. “Cocky”

He chuckles, dragging his lips along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot just below your ear. 

“Confident” he corrects, nipping at your skin “And I have every reason to be”

You hate that he’s right.

Your fingers trail down his back, nails scratching lightly as you press your body against his. He’s so warm, his skin hot beneath your touch, his muscles flexing under your fingertips.

Theo groans, his head dropping to your shoulder as you shift beneath him, pressing right where he’s aching for you most. His hands grip your hips, steadying you, holding you in place.

“Don’t start something you’re not ready to finish” he warns, his breath uneven.

You tilt your head, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Who says I’m not ready ?”

His gaze darkens, but before he can make a move, you act first. With a swift motion, you push against his chest, catching him off guard as you flip him onto his back, pinning him beneath you as you straddle him.

Theo blinks, surprised for half a second, before his lips curl into a slow, wicked smirk. His hands instinctively find your waist, gripping you tightly as you settle over him, your weight pressing into him in a way that makes his breath hitch.

“Careful, tesoro” he murmurs, his voice thick with amusement, his hold tightening on your hips “You’re playing a dangerous game”

Your lips curve. “Maybe I like danger”

Theo exhales sharply, his grip flexing as he looks up at you, his blue eyes burning with something dark and unrestrained.

Then you kiss him. Hard.

Not hesitation, not teasing. This kiss is desperate, hungry, relentless. Your hands tangle in his hair, nails dragging along his scalp as you move against him, pressing closer, feeling the sharp inhale he takes beneath you.

Theo groans, his fingers digging into your skin, grounding himself as you take control, as you match his intensity, touch for touch, breath for breath.

“You’re going to be the death of me” he mutters against your lips, his voice rough, strained.

"So dramatic" you grin, brushing your mouth over his again, teasing him "Don't worry, pretty boy. I'm not letting you die”

He huffs a breathless laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, you really think you’re in charge now ?”

His hands slide up your thighs, deliberate and possessive, a silent challenge in his touch. But you don’t back down.

Instead, you lean in, lips ghosting over his ear as you whisper “I know I am”

Theo swears under his breath, his head falling back against the pillow.

But you can feel the battle of control crackling between you like a live wire, a push and pull that neither of you wants to lose. Theo watches you from beneath heavy lashes, his smirk lazy, but his hands gripping you tightly betray just how much you’re affecting him.

His chest rises and falls in uneven breaths as your fingertips trail down his torso, slow, teasing, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. His muscles flex under your hands, inches and inches of sculpted perfection, every sharp inhale making it clear that you’re driving him absolutely mad.

But the best part ? He’s letting you.

“You look good like this” you murmur, tilting your head as you study him beneath you, his dark curls splayed against the pillow, his lips kiss-bruised and swollen “At my mercy”

Theo lets out a sharp breath, a half-chuckle of sorts. 

“Y/n” he warns, voice rough, strained but still carrying his own personal brand of dark amusement “you really shouldn’t push me”

You grin, leaning down, lips ghosting over his jaw. “And if I do ?”

His breath hitches. Then, without warning, his hands shift. One gripping your hip, the other pressing into the small of your back as he suddenly rocks up into you, his cock –hard and aching, and waiting– sliding against your sensitive heat.

A startled gasp escapes you as fire coils deep in your stomach, the pressure of his body against yours sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you, his weeping tip brushing your hyper-sensitive clit almost making you hiss as the line between pain and pleasure starts to blurry dangerously.

Theo grins. “Then I remind you who you’re playing with”

Your hands brace against his chest, your pulse pounding, but you refuse to let him win that easily.

You shift your weight with intention, a subtle, sinuous motion that starts at your core and ripples through your hips, drawing slow, deliberate circles. Every roll is unhurried, indulgent, crafted to tease. You move over him with featherlight contact, letting your slick heat trace the full length of his shaft, your folds parting with a silken glide that leaves nothing to the imagination.

Each pass sends a subtle shiver through your body, your breath catching as the friction builds in tantalizing waves. The smooth ridge of him slides perfectly between your folds, slick and hot, your body cradling him without yet taking him in, just enough to promise everything, while still holding back.

His fingers flex, his jaw clenching as he swears under his breath.

You linger there, gliding with aching slowness, letting him feel every pulse, every subtle flex of your hips. His head catches slightly at your entrance with each pass, coaxing a flutter deep inside you, making you ache to sink down. But you hold back, savoring the build-up. Your thighs tighten around him, your breath coming a little faster now as the friction grows. You shift just enough to press closer, your body hugging his, dragging over him in a slick, tempting glide that leaves no doubt about what you’re ready for. Still, you stay just out of reach, keeping him right on the edge.

“Looks like I’m winning” you murmur, brushing your lips over his again just barely. Not enough to satisfy. Just enough to torment. Teasing. Taunting. 

Theo’s grip on your thighs is firm but relaxed, like he’s settled in, completely content to let you play your little game. His smirk lingers, lazy and confident, but there’s a flicker at the corner of his mouth, like he’s fighting the urge to bite down on it. His stormy blue eyes flickering with amusement rather than frustration.

But the fire in them ? It could burn the world to ashes.

Slowly, calculatedly, you drag your lips down his jaw, your breath warm against his skin. He hums, the sound low and approving, like he’s enjoying this far too much. His Adam’s apple bobs when you press an open-mouthed kiss just below his ear, lingering there for a moment before moving lower.

His chest rises with a slow, deep breath when your lips brush along the column of his throat, your tongue flicking out just slightly, barely a touch. You hum, pleased at the way his body reacts instantly.

"Impatient ?” you smirk against his skin, echoing his words from earlier, feeling the way his body responds to your touch, how he twitches in interest against you.

Theo chuckles, low and knowing, his fingers stroking idly along your thighs. 

“Take all the time you want, baby” he purrs, voice smooth, teasing “I’m enjoying the show”

Your mouth continues its descent, down the center of his chest, over the ridges of muscle that flex under your touch. Your fingers follow the path of your mouth, trailing featherlight touches, and instead of tensing, he relaxes into it, exhaling a slow, satisfied breath.

Your lips part, your tongue flicking out in a deliberate stroke against his skin, tracing the sculpted lines of his torso, of his defined abs. 

“Mmh” he lets out a pleased hum, voice thick with satisfaction as his fingers tighten ever so slightly on your legs “Teasing, huh ?”

You do it again. Slower. Lazier. Letting your tongue trace over his stomach before your lips follow, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses that leave heat blooming across his skin.

Theo groans softly, watching you through hooded eyes. 

His hand slides up your arm, fingers tracing the curve of your shoulder before trailing down your spine. “That’s cute”

You pause, lips just above his hip, glaring up at him. His smirk deepens, his fingers threading into your hair. Not to push, not to guide, just to touch.

You press another lingering kiss to his skin, your tongue flicking out just enough to make him exhale a sharp breath through his nose.

“Still feeling cocky ?” you murmur, lips ghosting over his skin.

Theo laughs. Slow, and rich. 

“Oh, absolutely” he says, letting out a pleased sound. His thumb strokes over your cheek, his voice dropping lower, warmer “You look so pretty like this, baby. All eager. All mine”

Your stomach tightens at the way he says it. Possessive, pleased.

“Go on” he murmurs, his other hand cradling your face, fingers dancing on your cheeks, your jaw, until they land on the plump and kissed-bruised flesh of your lips, the pad of his thumb caressing it reverently “Show me how good you are”

His body is relaxed, completely at ease beneath you, but his eyes. His eyes burn with satisfaction, dark and full of promise.

Your fingers trace slow, lazy patterns over his skin, your lips pressing teasing kisses along the sharp lines of his hip bones. Theo watches you, his head tilted back against the pillow in a picture of utter relaxation.

He hums, breath a little ragged, a slow smirk tugging at his lips “Taking your sweet time too, huh ?”

You don’t answer. You just glance up at him through your lashes, smirking, as your tongue darts out to taste the warmth of his skin, leaving a wet trail on one side of the sinful V his muscles form, the one that makes your head spin every time you get a slight glimpse of it.

His grin widens, content, pleased.

You bite back a smile of your own, choosing instead to press a slower, wetter kiss lower, your mouth lingering. The muscles beneath your hands tense slightly just for a second but Theo’s expression barely shifts. If anything, he looks pleased.

Until your hand wraps around him, fingers working slowly, teasing, torturing on his length, warm and rock-hard in your palm.

The groan he lets out comes straight from his chest, reverberating in the room, low and almost primal.

Your lips drift lower, tiny, barely-there kisses build a path of fire as you get closer and closer to where he is visibly aching, thick and full, a bead of pre-cum making his head glistening under the moonlight as you brush at the base of his cock.

Your mouth waters, eager. So fucking eager to feel him. To taste him.

Your breath ghosts over him, warm and teasing, and you hear the sharp inhale he takes, see the way his fingers tighten in the sheets. But his eyes stay locked on you, hooded and molten, a smirk tugging at his lips even through the tension in his jaw.

Your grip tightens slightly around him, just enough to feel the weight, the heat of him around your fingers. You give him a slow, deliberate stroke, your thumb dragging over the slickness at his tip, spreading it with a teasing press.

Theo’s breath shudders. “Fuck-”

You glance up through your lashes, your lips curving just slightly. “Good ?”

His laugh is low, wrecked. “Asking like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing, you little vixen”

You smile in satisfaction, pressing your lips just above where he wants them, letting him feel the heat of your breath, the anticipation, the unbearable tease.

Then you give in, your mouth parting as your tongue flicks out, barely tasting him.

Theo’s groan is instant, his head tilting back against the pillow. His fingers twitch like he wants to grip your hair tighter, firmer, pushing you down so he can fill your teasing mouth to the brim, but he doesn’t. Not yet. Instead, he exhales through his nose, controlled, measured, watching you with dark, hungry eyes.

“Come on, baby” he coaxes, voice velvety and rough “I wanna feel you properly”

You don’t make him wait any longer.

Your lips wrap around him, soft, warm, taking him in at an unhurried pace, your tongue pressing just enough to make his abs tighten beneath your hands. His thighs tense, his breath catching in his throat, but it’s the deep, satisfied groan that makes heat bloom through you.

His fingers finally sink into your hair, firm but not forceful, guiding just a little.

“That’s it” he praises, voice strained but steady “Just like that. So good for me”

Your body hums at the praise, and you sink deeper, slow and controlled, letting him feel every second of it.

Theo hisses, his head pushing further in the pillow, but his eyes snap back to you almost immediately. He’s watching you, his gaze heavy, hooded, completely captivated.

“There you go” he coos, voice gravelly, his fingers stroking over your jaw, slow, reverent “That’s my girl”

Your stomach tightens at the heat in his tone, at the way he’s utterly mesmerized by you.

He wants you to enjoy this. Wants to watch you take your time, revel in the effect you have on him.

You hollow your cheeks slightly, taking him just a little deeper, your fingers gripping his thighs as you feel him tense beneath you.

Theo’s groan is deep, guttural, his restraint slipping. His hand in your hair tightens. Not guiding, not pushing, just holding. As if he needs something to keep himself grounded.

“Shit- Y/n” he rasps, his free hand running down his face before settling back into the sheets. His hips twitch, just barely, and you feel the weight of his control pressing down on you “You have no idea what you’re doing to me”

Oh, but you do. 

You can feel it right against your tongue. 

You can feel it in the way he throbs surrounded by the wet heat of your mouth. 

In the way his head brushes the back of your throat deliciously with every bob of your head. 

In the way his hips thrust up just the slightest bit, chasing that exquisit friction you’re providing him. 

“Jesus-” he groans, breath shuddering “Just like that. Nice and deep”

You hum in content, the vibration making him curse under his breath, and when you do it again –slowly, calculatedly– his abs clench, his entire body taut beneath you.

His fingers stroke through your hair again, his grip tightening just a fraction.

“Eyes on me, baby” he pants through broken breaths, voice soft and a little wrecked, yet firm “Let me see that gorgeous face”

Your stomach clenches, heat licking up your spine at the way he says it, at the awe in his tone. You meet his gaze, holding it as you drag your tongue over him again, slow, savoring, tasting the little veins scattered on smooth skin.

His expression shifts, something darker flickering in his eyes, something that tells you his patience is wearing thin.

“You’re too good at this” he groans, his head pressing into the pillow for a second before he forces his gaze back on you. He smirks, tilting his head slightly “Been practicing for me ?”

You pull back just enough to grin, mischievous and a little twisted. “Wouldn’t you like to know ?”

Theo lets out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. 

“Brat” his fingers tighten in your hair just slightly, not in warning but in promise “I will get you back for that”

But, for now, he lets you keep going.

You swallow around him this time, slow and deliberate, your throat contracting around the thick weight of him, molding to him, memorizing his shape, his taste, the way he fills you, hot and heavy on your tongue, stretching you perfectly, and drawing a choked sound from his throat and yours.

“Holy fuck-” he grits out, his voice wrecked, raw with need.

His abs clench beneath your hands, his thighs tense, his entire body taut, wired, locked down with restraint –but his grip in your hair tells you just how close he is to losing it.

You do it again.

Your lashes flutter, your vision blurring slightly, the sheer size of him making your throat burn, making your eyes water. But you don’t stop. You take it, every inch, letting him push just a little deeper, letting him feel just how perfectly you can handle him.

His breath shudders, his jaw tight, clenched like he’s barely holding on, like he's fighting that little voice in his head telling him to let go, and fuck your mouth the way he needs it.

But he doesn't. Because he likes this. He likes this way too much to make it end so soon.

Likes the way you're worshipping his cock, the way your tongue swirls around him like he's the best thing you've ever tasted.

Likes the way your lips stretch around him, how soft they are when they slide down over him again, slow and wet and sinful, like your mouth was made for this—for him, how you take him deep like you crave the weight of him on your tongue. Likes the wet, obscene sounds filling the space between you, proof of just how messy and unbothered you are about it. Likes the way your eyes flick up to meet his, all heat and mischief, like you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

He likes the way your fingers curl around the base of him, working in sync with your mouth, slow and steady. Likes the way your tongue flattens, then flicks, then swirls, like you’re trying to pull every sound out of him one by one. Likes the way you hum when he throbs on your tongue, like you’re pleased with yourself, with him, with this.

He likes the control you have, how he’s letting you take the lead, letting you draw it out, even when his whole body is coiled tight with the need to move. Likes the way you worship him without a single word, like you're showing him exactly how much you want him without ever saying a thing.

And fuck, he likes how hard it is not to come already.

“Christ, fuck-” he groans, his hand flexing in your hair before his other palm drags down his face, like he can’t believe how fucking good you feel.

You moan around him in response, and the vibration rips another harsh curse from his throat. His hips twitch, just barely, but it’s enough to make your breath stutter, enough to send a fresh wave of heat pooling in your stomach.

Then, just to tease him, just to watch that last shred of composure fray even further, you slow down.

You flick your tongue over him in deliberate, teasing strokes, savoring, dragging it along his length before circling back, letting your lips follow the path, sucking just slightly before pulling off with a soft, wet pop.

Theo lets out a rough, unsteady breath. His head tilts up just enough for his dark, stormy eyes to lock onto yours, the smirk on his lips unmistakable despite the wrecked look in his gaze.

“Oh, you little tease” his voice is thick, strained, but dripping with amusement “You think I don’t see what you’re doing ?”

You hum, your tongue flicking out again, tracing a lazy, torturous path over him before you take him back in, slow, savoring.

Because you know he knows. The way you flick your tongue, the way you lick and lap at his shaft. You're working him the same way you had that ice cream earlier, slow, messy, indulgent, like you have all the time in the world.

“Shit- look at you” his voice is low, reverent, almost in awe. His thumb strokes along your cheek, slow and possessive, his scalding gaze locked on yours, unwavering “So pretty- so fucking pretty taking my cock so well”

Your insides flip at the way he says it, at the wrecked pleasure in his voice, the pure satisfaction in the way he watches you, entranced, completely absorbed in the way you take him.

His control is slipping, you can feel it in the way his breathing turns shallow, in the way his thighs tense beneath you.

And then, just to test him, you moan again, slow, dragging your tongue over him as you take him all the way in, hollowing your cheeks, tightening your grip on his thighs as you hold him there for just a second before pulling back, slow, so slow, until your lips just barely brush over him again.

Theo shudders.

His hand flies to his face, covering his eyes for a moment before dragging down his jaw, exhaling hard.

“You’re killing me” he mutters, voice strained, hoarse.

You smirk against his skin, pleased, humming a shattered “And you love it” before diving in once again.

Theo huffs a breathless laugh, his hand moving back into your hair, cradling the back of your head. 

“Can't argue with that” he murmurs, his fingers stroking over your scalp before tightening just slightly.

A slow, measured push, not rough, not forceful, just enough to make your throat stretch, to make your lashes flutter as another tear slips free, your eyes burning with the effort to take all of him.

And then, as if testing you, as if daring you, Theo presses in just a little deeper.

Your hands claw his thighs, nails digging in, and he feels it. He feels every reaction, every little tremor, every way your body is responding to him.

His jaw clenches, his breath uneven. 

“That’s it, baby” his voice is pure sin, husky, dripping with approval as his hips keep giving small, measured thrusts “Take it. Just like that”

Your chest heaves, your lungs burning, your entire body flushed with warmth, with heat, with the satisfaction of knowing just how much you’re undoing him.

Theo exhales hard, another groan tearing from his throat. His hand in your hair shifts, fingers stroking over your scalp in quiet praise.

“So fucking perfect for me” he murmurs, his voice low, wrecked, filled with something almost possessive. His thumb moves gently over your cheek, cantching the wet trail of a tear and brushing it away, his breath shuddering “Look at you. Goddamn masterpiece”

Your stomach tightens, something deep and molten curling through you, your own arousal thrumming through your veins at the raw desire in his tone, the way he watches you with a gaze so intense it makes your head spin.

And you love it.

And when you swallow again, Theo swears, his head tipping back, his hand fisting the sheets as his control starts to crack.

You love every second of watching him unravel.

He is close. You can feel it.

And you wait for it.

You work your mouth around him, lips stretching, tongue teasing, hollowing your cheeks as you take him deeper, eager for the moment when his control finally shatters. You can already imagine it, the way he’ll curse, how his hips will thrust almost involuntarily, his cock hitting the back of your throat as you take everything he gives you, how he’ll give in completely, no longer able to hold back. 

You want it. Want his pleasure to take over you, to invade your senses, to coat your throat and replace the lingering sweet tinge the ice-cream left on your tongue.

But it doesn’t arrive.

Instead, his fingers twitch against your skin, a sharp, shuddering breath tearing from his throat. 

Then, his touch shifts, trailing up, brushing over your cheek with a tenderness that is completely at odds with the way his body trembles.

And before you can even react –before you can take what you know is right there– his grip tightens just enough to lift your head, to slip from your mouth with a soft, wet pop.

Your lips part in protest, in frustration, your eyes flashing up to meet his.

Theo’s chest rises and falls unevenly, his jaw tight, his pupils blown wide with lust. But there’s something else there, too. Something almost wicked curling at the edges of his smirk as he rasps, voice wrecked yet teasing, 

“Come on, baby” a breath, a pause, his thumb dragging over your swollen lips “I think you’ve had your fun”

Before your brain can catch up, Theo moves.

And suddenly, you’re the one beneath him once again.

His weight pins you to the mattress, his body pressing against yours, scorching heat sinking into your skin. 

He’s still grinning, smug, knowing, as if he has all the time in the world to unravel you piece by piece. And in this moment, in this drak room filled with soft breaths and pleading moans, you feel like he does.

You swallow hard, still catching your breath, but the way he’s looking at you makes something sharp and defiant flicker through the haze of pleasure.

Your lips curve, just a little, just enough. 

“What’s the matter ?” your voice is hoarse, but you make sure there’s a teasing lilt to it “Needed a break ?”

Theo stills. Then he laughs. 

Low, quiet, dangerous.

His fingers skim down your waist, a slow drag that makes your stomach tighten. 

“A break ?” he echoes, voice thick with amusement. His hand lingers at your hip, fingers pressing in just enough to make you aware of every point of contact “No, baby. It just wouldn’t have been very gentlemanly of me to fuck your mouth like a savage and choke you with my cock as I painted that pretty tight throat of yours all white, would it ?”  

Bloody fucking hell.

That mouth of his is your very personal damnation. Or the unholiest of blessings.

Heat slams into you, white-hot and unforgiving, your entire body tensing like it’s just been set on fire from the inside out. Your breath catches, thighs clenching uselessly, because fuck, Theo–

Theo just says these things, just drops them into the space between you like they’re nothing. Like he doesn’t even have to try to unravel you.

And the worst part ?

He knows.

He sees the way you freeze, the way your lashes flutter as your mind blanks, as your body reacts before you can even process what the hell he just said. 

His grip on your hip tightens, just enough to remind you he’s right there, pressed against you, soaking up every tiny movement, every twitch, every shaky breath.

“Oh” His smirk is slow, lazy. Devastating “Oh. You’d like that, wouldn’t you ?”

Your pride claws at you, telling you to deny, to roll your eyes, to say something, but the words die in your throat. Because you’re stuck there, lingering in the wreckage of his voice, in the filthy, perfect picture he just painted in your head.

A soft, satisfied chuckle rumbles from his chest. 

“Yeah” Theo murmurs, dragging the pad of his thumb over your lower lip, eyes dark and knowing “You definitely would”

The ache between your thighs sharpens, unbearable, and you hate him for it. Hate him for knowing exactly what he’s doing. Hate that he’s right.

So, you do the only thing you can do.

You bite.

Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to shock him, enough to wipe that smug little smirk off his face as your teeth graze his thumb, as your lips close around the tip in a teasing, deliberate motion.

Theo swears under his breath. His fingers flex against your skin, and his composure –so damn steady, so infuriatingly controlled– fractures just a little.

Good.

You pull back just enough to grind up at him, eyes gleaming with something sharp, something defiant. 

“What’s wrong ?” you purr, voice syrupy-sweet, pretending like your pulse isn’t going haywire, like the fire in your veins isn’t threatening to consume you “You look a little-” your tongue drats out to wet your lips, brushing the pad of his thumb once again with a featherlight touch “-shaken”

His gaze darkens instantly.

Theo stills.

It’s a split second, just the barest flicker of tension in his jaw, the slight narrowing of his eyes, but you see it. Feel it. The shift in the air, the way something sharp and dangerous curls around the edges of his composure, threatening to snap.

And fuck, it thrills you.

For all his smug little comments, for all his teasing and slow, deliberate torment, you got to him. You cracked that perfect, infuriating control of his, even if just for a moment.

But then–

Then he moves.

It’s sudden, seamless. One second you’re grinning up at him, victorious, the next your wrists are pinned above your head, his grip unyielding as he presses you further into the mattress. His body slots against yours, heat sinking into every inch of your skin, his thigh sliding between yours, pressing –fuck.

Your breath shudders, your smirk faltering for just a moment. Just long enough for his lips to brush against your ear, for his breath to ghost over the sensitive skin.

"Shaken ?” he murmurs, voice a low, dark rasp “Sweetheart, I’m ruined for you”

A shiver bolts through you, a full-body tremor that you know he feels.

He laughs, soft and knowing, pleased in a way that has heat licking up your spine like a slow, devastating burn. 

“But don’t get ahead of yourself” he continues, his mouth trailing down, lips grazing your jaw, then lower, lower “Because you just made a mistake”

Your pulse stutters. “Did I ?”

Theo hums, his grip tightening around your wrists, his knee pressing just a fraction harder between your thighs. 

“Oh yeah” his teeth catch the sensitive spot just beneath your ear, sharp enough to make your breath hitch “You bit me”

You suck in a sharp breath.

His tongue flicks over the spot he just nipped, a slow, deliberate tease before he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, eyes heavy with intent.

His mouth crashes against yours, no pretense, no warning. Just raw, dizzying intensity. A slow, deep claim that steals the air from your lungs, leaving you gasping against him, body arching instinctively as heat floods through you.

His hands –God, his hands– are everywhere. One stays firm around your wrists, keeping you exactly where he wants you, while the other ghosts down your side, over your waist, fingers dragging in a way that makes your skin burn.

And you did that.

You whimper against his lips. Fuck, you hate that you do, that he can pull sounds from you so effortlessly, but Theo just grins on your mouth, his breath is ragged as he looks down at you, the smugness from before replaced by something deeper. Something darker. His pupils are blown wide, his lips parted, his chest rising and falling a little too fast. He looks wrecked, ruined, like he’s barely holding himself together.

Something about it sends a fresh wave of heat surging through you, your skin prickling under the intensity of his stare.

“You good, bambolina ?” His voice is rough, edged with something thick and heavy.

You could nod. Could murmur something soft, something sweet.

Instead, you arch up, just enough for your lips to graze his. “Shut up and fuck me, Theo”

The sound he makes –somewhere between a moan and a groan– sends a full-body shiver down your spine.

His lips ghost over your ear, his voice dropping into something dark and utterly devastating.

“You want me to fuck you, baby ?” his tone is slow, deliberate, dark “Want me to stretch this pretty little cunt out until you can't even fucking think ?”

A sharp, burning heat surges through you, your body betraying you with the way you arch up against him, the way your thighs clench instinctively around his waist.

Theo chuckles, low and pleased. 

“God, you’re so damn cute” he murmurs, dragging his lips down your throat, nipping just hard enough to make you shudder “Just a few filthy words in your ear and you’re already soaking for me, aren’t you ?”

You hate how true it is. Hate how your body reacts instantly, how every word that leaves his mouth turns you into a fucking mess beneath him.

But Theo knows.

He feels it.

His fingers trail down, slow and teasing, his touch just light enough to drive you crazy. 

“Bet if I slipped my fingers inside you right now, you’d be dripping all over them” his teeth graze your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin “Bet I wouldn’t even have to work for it. You’d just let me ruin you, wouldn’t you, bambolina ?”

Your breath stutters, a whimper catching in your throat.

Theo groans. 

“Fuck, you love this, don’t you ?” he murmurs, his tone filled with dark amusement “Love being talked to like this. Love knowing how desperate you are for my cock”

You want to fight it. Want to argue. But the way he’s talking, the slow, teasing rock of his hips against yours –it’s too much.

Your body is screaming for it, every nerve on fire, every muscle tightening as you ache for him.

Theo leans in, lips barely brushing against yours, his voice a low, dangerous rasp.

“Tell me how bad you want it”

You suck in a sharp breath, fingers twitching against the hold he still has on your wrists.

“Fuck you” you manage, though it’s breathless, wrecked, your body betraying the bite behind your words, the defiance you liked to put on just for show.

Theo laughs. 

“Oh, baby. I will, trust me” his hand slides lower, fingertips ghosting over your inner thigh, so close, but still refusing to give you what you need “But you’re gonna have to beg better than that”

You swallow hard, pulse pounding in your throat. You hate how much you want it. Hate how easily he has you right where he wants you.

But right now, pride is a distant thing compared to the heat pooling low in your stomach, compared to the ache that’s turning sharp, unbearable.

So, you break.

“Please” you whisper, voice shaky, breathless.

Theo hums, pleased, but he doesn’t give in yet. He waits.

“Come on, sweetheart” he murmurs, his fingers finally, finally dragging through your slick folds, just enough to make you jerk beneath him “Use your words”

A frustrated, wrecked little noise leaves your throat. “Please, Theo- I need you”

“Need me to what ?”

“Fuck me-” you practically plead, your head tilting back, eyes fluttering shut as he teases you with just the tip, pressing against you but not giving it to you yet “Fuck me, Theo, please-”

That’s all it takes.

Theo snaps.

His grip tightens, his restraint shatters, and then–

He drives into you.

All at once. All the way. Burying himself inside of you to the hilt.

He swears, low and guttural, his forehead dropping against yours. His breath is hot, uneven, and fucking hell, you love it. Love the way he sounds when he loses control, the way his body trembles just slightly as he forces himself to stay still for a second, to let you adjust.

A strangled, desperate moan rips from your throat, your body arching up into his as the air punches out of your lungs.

The world fades around you, outside this room.

It’s just you.

Just him. Hot and solid and everywhere, his body pressing into yours, his weight pinning you down in a way that leaves no room for anything but this. But the sharp, searing pleasure that rips through you the second he finally gives in, the way every thought leaves your body as he stretches you open, as he sinks into you deep.

Theo groans, gravelly and filthy as he finally starts moving, thrusting.

“Fuck-” his hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, holding you still as he presses even deeper “You feel so fucking good, baby- so tight for me, so wet”

You whimper, clawing at his back, nails digging over his skin, desperate to anchor yourself against the sheer force of it. Of him.

And Theo knows.

He feels every reaction, hears every little sound you make, and he loves it. Loves how wrecked you already are, how your body takes him so perfectly, how you’re completely at his mercy.

“'This what you wanted ?” his voice is hoarse, dark, his hips thrusting relentlessly, unforgiving “'This what you’ve been aching for all night ?”

You nod frantically, barely able to breathe. “Yes- fuck, yes-”

Theo moans, his rhythm quickening, every snap of his hips sending a new shockwave of pleasure through you.

“Look at you” he rasps, his hand holding your jaw gently, tilting your chin up enough to meet his gaze “So fucking pretty like this. All spread out for me, taking my cock like you were made for it-”

A shudder wracks through you.

Theo’s grip tightens. “Bet you’re close already”

You are.

It’s too much, his words, the way he’s fucking into you like he owns you, like you belong to him.

“I can feel it”  Theo growls, his lips brushing against yours “This tight little cunt squeezing me, fuck- you wanna come for me, baby ?”

“Yes” you gasp, nails raking down his back, digging in his skin, leaving your mark just like he's leaving his.

Theo hisses, a sound that turns into a sinful moan as your walls flutter around him.

“Then do it-” his hand drops between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing, pressing just right while lodging into yourself so impossibly deep you feel his head kiss your cervix “-come for me, bambolina”

The world shatters.

Pleasure slams into you, overwhelming and all-consuming, pulling you under so violently that you scream his name.

Theo groans as you clench around him, his rhythm stuttering, his body tensing.

He follows right after, burying himself deep as he breaks, swearing under his breath as he spills into you, his grip on you bruising, desperate.

For a long moment, neither of you move, your chests heaving, your bodies tangled together, sweat-slick and spent.

Then–

Theo lets out a slow, breathless laugh, his chest still rising and falling with the force of his release. It’s hoarse, wrecked, full of something darkly satisfied, and it sends another weak shiver through your spent body.

“Jesus Christ” he exhales, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. He sounds absolutely fucking ruined, and the knowledge that you did that to him sends a lazy ripple of pleasure through you.

You groan softly, head lolling to the side, still floating, still lost in the lingering aftershocks. Your limbs feel boneless, your body pliant and wrecked, every nerve ending still humming with the echoes of what he just did to you.

Theo watches you, something warm flickering in his heavy-lidded gaze, something almost dangerous in the way his lips curl into that slow, satisfied smirk.

“Told you I’d get you back, you feisty brat” he murmurs, his voice thick with amusement.

You barely manage a breathless huff of laughter before his lips find your jaw, pressing a slow, lazy kiss there, then another, softer this time, a contrast to the utter destruction he just left in his wake.

And fuck, you hate how much you love it.

Hate the way your chest flutters when his nose brushes against your skin, when his fingers trace light, absentminded patterns along your thigh as if he can’t help himself.

The thing is, you don’t hate it at all.

Theo shifts onto his back, exhaling deeply, his body still loose from the intensity of his reliese. But the second his back fully meets the mattress–

“Shit”

He hisses, his muscles tensing, and for a second, his face scrunches up in surprise. Then, just as quickly, it smooths into something else. Something amused, something fond. His head turns toward you, and when he grins, it’s that lazy, post-bliss kind of grin that makes your stomach flutter.

“Damn” he murmurs, voice still thick with satisfaction “A biter and a scratcher ?”

You stretch beside him, completely unapologetic, lips curling into a satisfied smirk. “Not my fault you deserved it”

Theo laughs, the sound warm and real, shaking his head as he shifts again, testing the soreness along his back. “Yeah ? That good, huh ?”

You roll onto your side, propping your head up on your hand, fully enjoying the sight of him, flushed, still catching his breath, the marks you left on him making his skin look even more golden in the dim light.

“You knew exactly what you were doing” you point out, arching a brow “I just reacted accordingly”

Theo hums, twisting slightly to glance over his shoulder, and when he catches sight of the angry red lines, his grin widens. He drags a hand over them, wincing playfully, though the pleased glint in his eyes betrays him.

“Holy shit” he mutters, clearly impressed “You really did a number on me”

You shrug, barely restraining your grin. “Maybe if you hadn't rammed into me with the force of a bloody tank, I wouldn’t have to hold on for dear life”

Theo huffs out a laugh, shaking his head, then shifts onto his side to face you. There’s something softer in his gaze now, something warm and unbearably fond. His fingers trail lazily along your arm, his touch light, absentminded, like he needs to be touching you.

“You okay ?” he murmurs after a beat, his voice lower, gentler.

And just like that your teasing bravado falters just a little.

Because fuck, the way he’s looking at you now, the warmth in his voice, the careful touch against your skin, it melts you.

Your smirk softens, your fingers brushing against his chest as you sigh. “Yeah. More than okay”

Theo’s lips twitch, eyes flickering over your face, searching, reading you like he always does. He must find whatever he’s looking for, because his smirk turns into something even softer, something that makes your heart ache.

Still, you huff dramatically, your fingers trailing over his shoulder before tapping lightly against his chest. 

“Alright, fine” you concede, rolling your eyes “Sorry for the scratches”

Theo grins. “Liar”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Half-sorry, then”

His fingers find your chin, tilting your face up just enough so your eyes meet his. 

“I liked it” he murmurs, voice quieter, his thumb brushing over your jaw “I like everything you do to me”

And fuck, you’re a goner.

You snort, rolling your eyes again, but your stomach flips when he leans in, lips brushing over yours, teasing, promising.

Your throat tightens, your fingers gripping at his skin on instinct. But before you can say anything --before you can find a way to respond without completely melting, and tell him that you love everything he does to you, too– Theo’s smirk returns, a teasing lilt creeping back into his tone. “But you will be making it up to me”

“Mmh. And how will you have me do that ?” you murmur against his mouth.

His grin widens. “I might have some…sweet suggestions”

Well.

Holy shit.

Hello beautiful people 💕

This was for all my Theo enthusiasts whom I have been left starving for months (I'm sorry, please forgive me 🙏🏻). I hope it quenched your thirst, and I hope you liked it 😚.

Thank you for reading, and I'll catch you in the next one <3

[juleswritesstuff]

The Pillow Contract

James Potter seems to have found the best pillow on earth. You.

james potter x fem!reader

warnings: none

James Potter liked to consider himself a man of simple pleasures. 

A good meal ? Heaven. A lazy Sunday spent wrapped in a blanket burrito ? Perfection. A well-timed, sarcastic remark ? Chef’s kiss.

But above all else, there was one thing James had come to love more than anything in the world.

Your chest.

Well, you as a whole, of course. Body and soul alike. He was not a bloody prick, thank you very much. 

He loved you for you, not just for the flawless vessel that carried your golden heart and your beautiful mind.

But he couldn't help the way he was especially drawn to the perfection that peeked from your neckline when your shirt hung a little lower than usual.

And he also could not, in good conscience, ignore the life-altering comfort that was that perfection.

Now, to be clear, James wasn’t just some guy obsessed with his girlfriend’s body –okay, maybe he was a little addicted. 

But, come on, who could blame him when you were said girlfriend ? 

He was supposed to be a bit obsessed with you, right ? That’s what every person in their sane, right and helplessly in love mind would be about their partner, no ? 

Was that just him ? 

Ok, fine, maybe he was a bit of a simp (read, you had him at your feet). So what ? 

He liked it exactly like that. Sue him.

But this ? This was different. 

This wasn’t just about attraction or some primal male instinct. No, this was about something sacred.

This was about comfort.

The kind that he’d accidentally stumbled upon one evening when you had curled up next to him on the couch, and his head had somehow –miraculously– ended up resting right on your chest.

That’s when he had discovered it.

The Holy Grail of pillows. The pinnacle of all headrests.

Your chest was perfect. 

Warm. Soft. Inviting.

It had been life-changing. Existence-altering. World-stopping.

And in that moment, with his head resting against the softest, most heavenly cushion known to mankind, and your heart beating under his ear like a lullaby, James had made a decision.

He was never going back to regular pillows again.

Ever.

The problem was, he didn’t exactly know how to turn this into a permanent arrangement without looking like an absolute fool.

Which, really, was ironic, because James didn’t mind acting like the biggest dumbass in the world when it came to you. Not even a tiny bit.

The man had zero shame, and zero chill when you were involved.

If he had to beg ? Done.

If he had to bribe you with kisses ? Oh no, how awful.

If he had to declare his undying devotion in front of his friends and suffer their relentless teasing ? Call Sirius and Remus over, he was ready to suffer.

If he had to wear one of those, frankly quite obnoxious --yes, even for him-- ‘I ❤️ My Girlfriend’ shirts in public just because you wanted him to suffer a bit for forgetting the chores ? Consider it his new favorite outfit.

He’d do anything and everything –yes, even sacrificing his dignity in front of Pads and Moony– if it meant putting a smile on your face (and making you agree to be used as a headrest for the rest of your life. But let’s just say that was a teeny, tiny, wonderful bonus if the case ever came to be).

Tonight was his chance, he told himself.

You were already curled up on the couch, wearing one of his hoodies, your legs tucked beneath you as you scrolled through your phone. The dim lighting of the room cast a soft glow over you, and James took a moment to appreciate the scene. 

Because, honestly ? You looked really good.

Too good.

Like, unfairly good.

The hoodie –his hoodie, the one he had technically claimed as his favorite, but which spent more time on your body than his closet– was slightly oversized on you, slipping off one shoulder in a way that made his brain short-circuit for a second.

This was his moment.

You were comfortable. The couch was comfortable. 

And your chest ? Well, that was a level of bliss he had yet to find anywhere else in the world.

Time to execute: Operation Smothered by Heaven.

Ok, the name was a little ridiculous. But, to his defence, he had been a little distracted while thinking about it –the dress you were wearing mysteriously met the floor not even five minutes after he had taken a glimpse of you– and his brain had refused to work at his full potential.

Something that he absolutely couldn’t let happen now. 

Not when the fate of his comfort and sanity was at such a high risk.

That’s why he casually –so casually– stretched like a giant cat just waking up from a nap, letting out an exaggerated yawn before –still ever so nonchalantly, of course– leaning closer.

And would you look at that ? His head, as if drawn by an invisible magnetic force he absolutely had no control on –God forbid– found its way to your chest.

It was seamless. 

Flawless execution.

Absolutely fucking nailed that.

He gave himself a mental high five.

Operation Smothered by Heaven: officially successful.

“Wow. Smooth” you blinked down at him, amused.

James grinned but didn’t move. Not even an inch. Nope. 

He had claimed his rightful place, and there was no going back now.

“What can I say ? Gravity is a powerful thing” he purred, his voice smug, his eyes half-lidded like a cat who had just found the warmest sunspot in the house.

“Ah, I see. So this is all gravity’s fault, then ?”

“Absolutely” he confirmed, burrowing his face in just a little more “I have no control over it. Pure science”

You snorted, shaking your head, but you didn’t push him away. 

Of course you didn’t.

If anything, you shifted slightly, letting your arm drape around his back, your fingers absentmindedly tracing along his spine. He hummed in approval, his whole body melting against yours like ice under the warm sunlight of a summer’s day.

Because the thing James didn’t know –or, at the very least, seemed to forget– was that he wore his heart on his sleeve. Always.

James Potter and secret scheming ? Not a good match. 

Not a match at all, actually. But you still liked watching him try.

And with the way he had been ogling you for the past week, it really wasn’t hard to figure out what had been brewing in that ridiculously pretty head of his.

His thoughtful frown, the way his brows scrunched together, his deep-in-thought lip-biting. James had looked like he was trying to crack some highly classified government code.

Except the code in question was you.

Or, more specifically, that area right below your neck that seemed to steal his attention more times then it should've been considered healthy.

Subtle, he was not.

He had been studying you. Analyzing the way your sweaters dipped lower when you leaned forward, the way the fabric of your shirts clung to your curves, the way–

God.

James had the audacity to look like he was pondering the meaning of life when, really, all he was trying to find was an excuse.

Funny how he could’ve just asked.

It wasn’t like you would have refused him.

Hell, you didn’t even think you possessed the ability to refuse him. To refuse him anything, really.

But your smitten and extremely down-bad behavior when it came to your boyfriend was a topic for another time.

James let out a deep, satisfied sigh.

“You know” he murmured, voice slightly muffled as he nuzzled closer “I think I’ve discovered something important”

“Oh ?”

“Mhm” he tilted his head up, his expression dead serious. Like a man delivering a life-changing revelation “Your chest ? Best pillow I’ve ever used”

You raised an eyebrow, a quiet grin making its way onto your mouth. “I should be flattered, I think”

“You should be honored” he corrected, his lips quirking into a lazy smirk “I mean, it’s a very competitive market. But yours ? Easily top-tier”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “Is that right ?”

James nodded solemnly. 

“Hell yeah, baby. I’d even write a five-star Yelp review if that were a thing”

You let out a soft laugh and slid your fingers into his hair, gently scratching at his scalp.

James immediately melted.

He let out a low, contented hum, eyes slipping shut, the tension in his body dissolving completely. You thought if he was a cat, he would’ve started purring.

“Mmh. Keep doing that, and I might never get up” he mumbled, voice already laced with drowsiness.

“Wouldn’t mind that” you teased.

Because, really, who in their right mind would complain about this ?

No one, that's who.

And surely not you.

James hummed in response, his arms tightening around your waist burying himself further into you. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of his body seeping into yours. 

His lips brushed absentmindedly against your collarbone, a barely-there press of warmth that sent a quiet shiver down your spine.

This. This was perfection.

Then, because James Potter simply could not help himself, he tilted his head up again.

“So, uh... just out of curiosity. How often do you think I can get away with this ?”

You smirked. “That depends”

“On ?”

“How well you behave”

James’ eyes darkened slightly, though amusement still played at the edges. 

“Define behave” his voice dropped, all smooth and teasing, like he could coax an answer out of you if he said it just right.

You arched a brow, pretending to think. 

“Well, let’s see. No stealing the blankets at night. No pretending you don’t hear me when I ask you to grab something from the kitchen. And definitely no distracting me when I’m trying to get work done”

James gasped, offended.

“That last one is unreasonable and you know it”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh, is it ?”

“Yes. It is literally part of my rights as your boyfriend to distract you”

You hummed, pretending to ponder your decision.

“Well, if we can do nothing about that…” your hand cupped his cheek, slender fingers applying a gentle pressure to lift his face up from that cocoon of warmth he had nestled himself into.

He blinked. “I-wait. What ?”

Before he could fully register what was happening, you leaned down and captured his lips in a slow, lazy kiss.

James melted.

Like, gone. Out of commission. Absolute goner.

The smug confidence he had a second ago ? Obliterated.

His hands, which had been lazily resting at your waist, tightened, pulling you closer like he never wanted to let go. One of them trailed up your spine, fingers tangling into your hair, holding you there like this was oxygen and he needed it to breathe.

You sighed against his lips, feeling the way he shuddered, the way his grip on you tightened, like he was physically trying to keep himself from falling apart.

Like you had just ruined him.

And maybe you had.

Because when you pulled back just enough to catch your breath, James just blinked at you, dazed and utterly wrecked, lips still parted like he hadn’t quite caught up with reality yet.

You bit back a smirk.

Unbelievable.

How had this man made a full-time career out of turning you into putty, and yet one well-placed kiss had him looking like he’d just been personally blessed by the universe ?

You dragged your fingers lazily through his curls, watching the way his lashes fluttered at the sensation, the slow, dopey grin tugging at his lips.

Completely gone.

You tilted your head, murmuring teasingly against his mouth “Was that up to your standards, Mr. Five-Star Review ?”

James, still grinning and still absolutely useless, just nodded.

"Five stars ? That was worth the entire Milky Way, baby"

You let out a laugh, and he practically glowed at the sound, his fingers flexing against your waist like he wanted to bottle it.

Then, before you could say anything else, he tilted his head, brushing his nose against yours in that infuriatingly sweet way of his.

"You know-" he murmured, voice all warm and syrupy "-if this is part of my reward system, I promise to be so good"

You smirked, fingers tracing idle patterns into the back of his neck. “Do you now ?”

James nodded solemnly, though the grin he was fighting gave him away.

“The best. Model citizen. Proper gentleman. Will hold doors, carry bags, call you milady unironically if I have to”

You snorted. Loudly.

"Now that, I need to see"

He hummed, tilting his head up like he was about to deliver the most profound statement of his life.

“Mmh. Maybe after another kiss”

Your eyes narrowed playfully. “That so ?”

He nodded again, already leaning in, his lips curling mischievously.

You let your fingers drag slowly down the back of his neck, feeling the way James shivered under your touch.

The moment stretched, thick with something warm and electric, the air between you charged in that intoxicating way it always was whenever you teased him like this.

You leaned in, lips hovering just over his, close enough that you could feel the ghost of his breath, the heat radiating off his skin.

James, for all his usual smugness, stilled, his lazy smirk faltering into something softer, deeper, his lips parting slightly, pupils dark and expectant.

Waiting.

Wanting.

You let your gaze drop to his lips, watching as his tongue darted out just once, a quick, unconscious flick, like he was already tasting the kiss before it happened.

And, God, he was beautiful like this.

All that usual bravado stripped down to this, his sharp edges melted, his hands twitching slightly where they rested on your hips, fighting the urge to pull you closer.

His restraint was admirable.

His patience ?

Well. That was something you just had to test.

You leaned in that final inch –only for your lips to land on his cheek instead.

Soft. Chaste. Infuriating.

James let out a dramatic, suffering groan, his head tipping forward, nuzzling your neck in defeat.

“Tease” he mumbled, voice hoarse and slightly muffled, his hands finally losing their battle as they gripped your waist, fingers pressing into your sides like he was physically holding back the urge to grab your face and kiss you properly.

You pulled back just enough to grin down at him, impossibly pleased with yourself.

“What ?” you asked innocently, tilting your head “You asked for a kiss. You didn’t specify where, love”

He cracked one eye open, glowering.

“Oh, that’s dirty” he grumbled, before huffing dramatically and rolling onto his back, taking you with him.

You yelped as you landed against his chest, sprawled across him, your laughter cut off when his arms wrapped around you, pinning you against him with the strength of a human vice grip.

“James-”

“Nope” he said, shoving his face back into your neck like a petulant child, muffling his words “You’re stuck here now. Actions have consequences”

You laughed, wiggling in his hold, but he just tightened his grip.

“James”

“Mmm. Nope”

“I-”

“Shh. Thinking about my suffering”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself, your fingers naturally finding their way into his curls again, scratching lightly at his scalp.

He made a sound, deep and content, his body practically melting beneath you.

“See ?” you teased, voice softening “That wasn’t so bad”

He exhaled heavily, but his hands had already started skimming over your back again, lazy and unbothered, like he’d completely forgotten why he was fake-pouting in the first place.

“Mmh” he hummed “Don't know. Still feel like you owe me”

You smirked, arching a brow. “Do I ?”

“Yeah” James sighed dramatically, finally tilting his head up again. Looking at you.

That expression.

Soft. Mischievous. A little challenging.

Maybe even a little hopeful.

Like he was just waiting for you to put him out of his misery.

You let the moment stretch for a beat longer, lips quirking.

Then, with a small, amused sigh, you finally gave in.

And kissed him properly.

For a few moments, the two of you just stayed like that, tangled together, basking in the warmth of each other’s touch.

You felt him smile against your lips before he pulled back just enough to murmur “So… hear me out”

“Oh, boy” you sighed, already knowing. 

James just grinned, completely unbothered by your lack in faith in him.

“What if we made this a permanent arrangement ?”

You let out a soft laugh, tilting your head at him. “A permanent arrangement ?”

“Yeah. Like, an official thing. A contract, even” he lifted his head slightly, his expression the picture of seriousness “Something binding. A legally recognized agreement that states you will be my official human pillow for the foreseeable future”

You stared at him, an eyebrow quirked in amusement, lips twitiching. 

“You want to draft a pillow contract ?”

James nodded, almost professionally. 

“For accountability purposes”

You rolled your eyes, a disbelieved chuckle leaving your lips before you could stop it. 

“You’re ridiculous”

“But lovable” he pointed out.

You exhaled, shaking your head, your heart betraying you with the sheer amount of fondness you felt for this man.

“Fine” you relented, rolling your eyes as if you weren’t already completely gone for him “You win. You can rest on me whenever you want”

James grinned like he’d just won the lottery, wasting no time in smacking a quick, eager kiss right on your lips.

“But” you added, poking him in the ribs “I reserve the right to move if you start drooling”

“Excuse me ?” he gasped, offended “I do not drool”

You smirked. “That’s not what the couch cushions say”

James gasped again, dramatically this time, like you had personally insulted his honor “That was one time-”

“Oh, it so wasn’t”

James pouted, pulling you even closer and pressing his forehead against yours with a grumble.

“You wound me” he muttered, a mock distraught lilt to his voice.

You grinned, the warmth of him, the smell of him, completely surrounding you as you pressed a kiss to his jaw, lingering just enough to feel the way his breath hitched.

“I think you’ll survive just fine”

He hummed, tilting his head slightly, inviting you to keep going.

So you did.

You let your lips trail along his jawline, slow and lazy, your fingers threading through the curls at the nape of his neck, scratching lightly in a way that made him melt.

“Well” James sighed, voice lower, heavier, the tiniest shiver running through him “If this is how you comfort me, I guess I’ll forgive you”

You laughed against his skin.

“How generous”

James smirked, but there was something else in his eyes now, something wicked, something that sparked just before–

Before the menace shimmied down.

Yes. Shimmied. Like a man with a mission.

“What-”

Your protest was cut off by laughter, because he was determined, wriggling lower and lower with expert precision, slipping out of your hold like a human-sized golden retriever trying to find the perfect spot on the couch.

And then, with a triumphant sigh, his head landed where he had been aiming all along–

James let out a deep, satisfied hum, snuggling in, his nose nuzzling into the soft fabric of your shirt like this was some long-lost paradise he had just returned to.

Right on your chest.

Once again.

“Now we’re talking” he exhaled in sheer satisfaction, like the heaviest of weights had been lifted from his shoulders, snuggling even deeper, and muttering an appreciative “Mmh. Yep. Definitely five stars”

You blinked down at him, helpless to fight the way your heart swelled, a smile threatening to bloom against your better judgment.

“Should I start charging you for this service ?” you teased.

James hummed, content, his lips brushing absently against the skin just below your collarbone.

“I’d go broke, baby”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, your fingers finding their way back into his hair, your nails scratching lightly at his scalp.

He groaned, pressing his face deeper into your chest, mumbling something incoherent that you were pretty sure translated to never stop doing that.

Before you could fully process how utterly whipped this man was, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss there. Just because he could.

You pulled back slightly, blinking down at the mop of messy chocolate strands currently buried between your collarbones. 

“Do you make a habit of kissing all your pillows ?” you asked, voice mildly amused despite the unreasonable warmth now flooding your chest.

James, completely unashamed, grinned against you. 

“Pillows don’t usually deserve appreciation, but this one ?” his fingers traced slow, lazy patterns against your waist, his voice dropping to a reverent murmur “This one gets special treatment”

A full-body shiver rolled through you.

And James, that absolute menace, felt it.

His smirk was obnoxiously satisfied as he nuzzled in even deeper, practically purring as he molded himself further against you.

You rolled your eyes, trying –truly trying– to ignore the overwhelming affection clawing at your ribcage. And utterly failing.

“Jamie, you’re gonna choke like this” you warned playfully, fighting against yourself not to let out the endeared laugh threatening to spill.

He made a noncommittal noise, fully unbothered.

“Best way to go, honestly”

And that was it.

Not one beat missed. Not a single ounce of shame registered in his voice.

You stared wide-eyed at the mop of untamable chocolate curls right below your chin, completely bewildered by the words that had just come out of your boyfriend’s mouth.

Did this man, the actual love of your life, just casually declare that he would willingly –no, gladly– perish via boob-related asphyxiation ?

Because that was what it sounded like.

Was that a normal thing for a person to say ?

No. No, it wasn’t.

And yet, here you were.

"James"

“Mmm ?”

"James, get up"

"No"

You sighed, trying to nudge him off, but it was useless.

Because this man –this grown, six-foot, sport-trained, annoyingly fit man– was currently clinging to you like a koala experiencing its first-ever existential crisis.

And you knew –you knew– that there was no reasoning with a man who had just fully committed to making your chest his final resting place.

"James-"

"No"

"You cannot suffocate yourself on my–"

"I can and I will"

"You will not"

James lifted his head just enough to look at you with actual betrayal.

"How dare you harm a man in his final moments ?"

A stunned laugh escaped before you could stop it.

“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous”

James smirked triumphantly.

“And yet-” he murmured smugly “-you don’t seem to mind it”

He barely gave you a second to respond before he nuzzled right back in, burrowing into your chest like you were some long-lost paradise he had finally returned to.

You stared at the ceiling, dead inside.

How was this your life ?

You used to have dignity.

You used to be a strong, independent person.

And yet, somehow –somehow– you had become a glorified human mattress for your very large and very needy boyfriend.

And the worst part ?

You didn’t even mind.

You sighed deeply, fingers slipping into his hair against your better judgment. James melted immediately, exhaling in a way that was obscenely pleased. Like if he were any more relaxed, he'd have dissolved into a puddle of mushy, lovesick goo.

Then, with the solemnity of a man about to deliver a groundbreaking presidential address, he cleared his throat.

You barely had time to register the shift before he–

“Ladies” James began, his voice smooth, reverent “It’s always a pleasure”

Your mouth fell open.

Did he just–

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“I just wanted to take a moment to express my deepest gratitude” he continued talking to your breasts, completely ignoring the look of utter disbelief and sheer horror plastered on your face and sighing dramatically “For your service. For your warmth. For providing me with the best naps of my life”

Your soul, quite frankly, left your body, just straight-up abandoned you.

“James–”

He shushed you.

Shushed you.

“I’m having a moment with my girls, baby” he whispered, like he was delivering a speech at fucking Buckingham Palace.

You gaped at him. “You are not-”

“I am” he placed a hand over his heart “They deserve it”

You had never contemplated murder so seriously in your life.

James, completely unbothered, pressed on. 

“I promise to treat you with the respect and admiration you deserve. To appreciate your softness in all its glory. To-” he paused, tilting his head “Actually, I feel like I should name you”

“For the love of God, James. Don’t you dare-”

He gasped. 

Gasped. 

“That’s a brilliant idea. Baby, why haven’t we named them ?”

You smacked his arm, your eyes so wide they threatened to fall out of your skull. “Because they are literally attached to my body ?!”

But he wasn’t listening. No, the absolute menace was thinking, brows furrowed in deep concentration.

“They deserve names that reflect their greatness. Something regal. Something powerful”

He snapped his fingers. “Got it. Thelma and Louise”

You groaned. “Absolutely fucking not”

James ignored you. 

“Or maybe Hall and Oates ?”

“I- What- Aren’t they both men ?”

“Gender’s nothing but a social construct, darling”

“Ok-”

A sudden gasp interrupted you, as if he had just discovered the meaning of life itself.

"Baby- Baby, I’ve got it"

You sighed, already regretting everything. "James, no"

"Yes" he insisted, eyes alight with the thrill of an idiot about to say something profoundly stupid "Bonnie and Clyde"

You blinked. Once. Twice. 

"You want to name ‘your girls’ after two actual criminals ?"

He nodded solemnly, as if he were making the most reasonable suggestion in the world. "Iconic criminals. Star-crossed lovers. Thrill-seekers. Just like us, babe"

"Just like us ?" you repeated, incredulous "James, they literally died in a hail of bullets"

"Tragic, right ?" he sighed dramatically, resting his cheek against your chest. "Just two outlaws against the world. Inseparable. Madly in love. Probably great at robbing banks"

You stared at him, completely dead inside. "Are you about to compare my chest to a highly coordinated armed robbery ?"

James lifted his head just enough to grin at you. 

"Well” he mused, eyes twinkling “they did steal my heart"

You were done. So done, in fact, that you just gave up entirely.

"I cannot believe this is my life" you muttered, shoving your hands over your face.

James, the absolute menace, took this as encouragement and nuzzled back in, pressing obnoxiously reverent kisses between his newly christened 'Bonnie and Clyde'.

"Rest easy, my loves" he murmured dramatically "Your legacy shall live on"

"James-"

"Shhh" he hushed, patting your side "They're outlaws, baby. They don’t play by the rules"

At that point, you seriously considered pushing him off the couch. Or out the window. 

Maybe both.

You shook your head, defeated, completely annihilated by your boyfriend’s questionable choices.

James grinned, entirely too pleased with himself. 

“Oh, come on. I’m just having a bit of fun” he chuckled lightheartedly, turning his attention back to your chest with the solemnity of a man who had just finished writing a best-selling novel “Well, ladies, whatever your names may be, just know –you have my eternal devotion”

And then, as if he hadn’t just committed the most embarrassing crime against you, he nestled back in with a satisfied hum.

You stared down at him, deadpan. 

“You’re an actual menace”

“And yet, despite that, you love me” he mumbled, already half-asleep.

You sighed, your fingers automatically sliding into his hair once again. It took him less than two seconds to turn into a puddle, his entire body going limp as he exhaled in the most ridiculously pleased way possible, like he had just been given an award for the best nap ever.

“Unfortunately” you muttered, your heart melting just a little bit too, because, yes, he was a ridiculous man, but he was your ridiculous man.

And, as much as you complained, you couldn’t deny it --having James like this, warm and completely wrapped around you, was its own kind of perfect.

The Pillow Contract (Unofficially Signed & Approved) 

Clause 1: James gets unlimited chest pillow privileges.

Clause 2: Y/n reserves the right to kick James off if he drools in his sleep.

Clause 3: Cuddles are mandatory.

Clause 4: James won't ever refer to Y/n's chest as ‘Bonnie and Clyde’ again. Penalty: annulment of Clause 1.

Hello beautiful people 💗

I have no idea of where this thing spouted from. It popped in my head, and I had to bring it to the world 😂.

This is my first attempt at a more humorous type of fic. I had so much fun writing it, and I really hope it didn't downright suck, and you had a good time reading it, too.

Let me know what you think!

Thank you for reading, and I'll catch you in the next one <3

[juleswritesstuff]

hiiii angel!! I looooved your jegulus fics, so could i request a jegulus x fem reader where harry's their son (ofc) and like the grown-ups have a small fight(nothing too sirius) and lil har (who's living a pretty normal life) who's just like 12 or so thinks his mum is leaving(effect of too many muggle movies n shows lmao) and he panics a bit and it gets a lil angsty but then they all comfort him and cuddle while watching something disney perhaps? im sry if its too detailed hehe have a good day <3!

Hi to youuu! This was such a cute request, I loved writing it <3

I hope I did it justice 💗

poly!jegulus x fem!reader

warnings: none

The argument wasn’t even that serious. At least, not in your mind.

James had left the laundry half-done again, Regulus was on his usual tirade about “order” and “structure” in the house again, and you-

Well, you were just trying to drink your tea in peace. 

But, as always, the Potter-Black household couldn’t stay quiet for long.

“I’m just saying-” you sigh, placing your cup down a little harder than necessary “-if you start a chore, finish it. It’s really not that complicated, James”

James, standing in the kitchen, his hands still damp from Merlin-knows-what, throws them up dramatically “I was going to finish it! But then Pads called, and I got distracted”

You suppress a laugh. Of course Sirius was involved.

“Oh, of course” Regulus, seated stiffly at the dining table with his arms crossed like an old-world aristocrat surveying an unworthy subject, lets out a sharp, unimpressed scoff “ Because when Sirius calls, the entire world must stop, and we must all kneel at his feet in reverence”

James pouts, looking genuinely wounded “That’s not true”

You glance at Regulus just in time to catch his expression. One perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched, lips curled into that ‘really?’ smirk he does so well.

You rub your temples, already feeling the impending headache from their antics.

 “James, love, you always do this. You start something, get distracted, and then I end up finishing half your chores because I don’t want Regulus to have an aneurysm”

Regulus clicks his tongue “I do not-”

“Yes, you do” you interrupt “You dramatically sigh, shake your head, and look at me like I’ve let down the entirety of England by allowing James to run unchecked”

James snorts, shoulders shaking with laughter. Regulus shoots him a glare.

“Look-” James says, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair “-it’s just laundry. It’s not like I forgot to pick Harry up or left a potion brewing unattended”

“Not this time” Regulus narrows his eyes.

A dramatic gasp leaves James’ lips.

“I have never, not once in my life, forgotten about my own son, thank you very much” he states, only for his expression to turn a little sheepish as he adds “About the potions, though-”

And you want to laugh, you really do. At the absurdity of the situation, at James’ antics, at Regulus’ vein on his temple almost throbbing from the half-scowl he is sporting. 

But it’s late, you are tired and there’s still a pile of unwashed clothes sitting in the corner who is just waiting for someone to take care of it.

“You know what? Whatever. I’ll just do it myself” you groan, pushing your chair back.

That’s when you hear it. 

A sharp intake of breath from the doorway.

Harry.

You turn and find your son standing there, his posture too rigid, his face too carefully blank. His eyes flicker between the three of you, sharp and searching, and suddenly, the air in the room feels heavier.

Your frustration evaporates in an instant.

“Mum ?” he asks, his voice measured but tight “Are you guys… okay?”

The shift in mood is immediate.

“What ?” James blinks, his lighthearted demeanor slipping instantly.

Harry’s fingers twitch slightly at his sides, his weight shifting from foot to foot almost nervously.

“It’s just- you’re arguing, and it sounds kind of serious, and I-” he hesitates, like he’s not sure he wants to say the next part out loud “I just want to know if I should… be worried”

Your stomach twists. Hard.

Regulus immediately straightens, his earlier exasperation vanishing. “Harry” he says, voice softer now, careful “Of course not”

James frowns, concern overtaking his features. 

“Hold on, you thought-” his voice falters for a second before his face shifts into something stricken, pained “Oh, mate”

But you-

Your breath catches in your throat.

Worried ?

Your heart clenches, sharp and painful, because-

Oh, sweetheart, no. 

You step forward instinctively, reaching for him, like touching him will tether you both to reality, to the undeniable fact that you would never -never- leave him. None of you would.

“Sweetie-” you press a gentle hand to his arm, stroking gently, making him feel your warmth, your presence “-this wasn’t anything serious. We were just bickering. It’s normal”

Your voice almost cracks at the sight of his big, worried eyes.

Harry exhales, but his jaw is still tight.

“Yeah, but-” he lets out a humorless chuckle, but there’s something bitter underneath “-in those Muggle movies you showed us…the parents start arguing about stupid things and pretend it’s nothing, and then boom, divorce”

Your stomach lurches.

Regulus’ breath catches in his throat.

James looks horrified, like someone has just told him Quidditch was canceled forever “Laundry isn’t a ‘boom divorce’ argument! It’s a ‘James is a little shit but we love him anyway’ argument”

“It’s true” Regulus lets out a quiet breath, something almost like a laugh -but there’s no humor in it.

James looks beyond offended.

But you’re barely listening.

Your chest is still tight, your fingers gripping Harry’s arm a little too firmly, because he actually thought you might leave. 

That one argument over laundry could break apart his world.

For the first time in years, something close to heartbreak flares in your chest.

Harry, your baby, your bright-eyed, brilliant, sarcastic little boy -the one who still rolls his eyes when you kiss his forehead but leans into it anyway- he actually thought that you’d walk away. That you’d leave him behind.

And the thought alone almost knocks the breath out of you.

You swallow past the ache, past the guilt clawing at your throat. 

“Harry” your voice is firmer now, but no less gentle “Love, I promise you- we argue, yes, but it doesn’t mean we don’t love each other. It doesn’t mean we’re leaving”

“No ?” 

That one word, that single uncertain word coming out if your little boy’s mouth is almost enough to make your heart stop. 

“No, sweetie-” you reassure him, trying your hardest to ignore the lump in your throat as you take his little hand in yours “-Merlin, no. No one’s leaving, ok ?”

Regulus steps closer, voice still uncharacteristically gentle “We are a family. That doesn’t change just because your dad is insufferable about chores”

“I feel attacked” James mutters, always the one to brighten up the mood. Even when he was panicking and worried himself at the idea of his son having such dark thoughts.

He concealed it well, but not well enough for you and Regulus not to notice.

Harry finally huffs a small laugh, some of the tension leaving his frame.

James grins and pulls him into a loose hug, ruffling his already messy hair and smacking a loud kiss on his forehead “Harry, you really thought we’d let something as stupid as unfinished laundry break up our family ?”

Harry hesitates for half a second before leaning into the embrace. 

“I mean-” he says, muffled against James’s shoulder “I wouldn’t put it past Dad to actually file for divorce over a mess”

Regulus scoffs “That is not true”

Harry pulls back just enough to raise an eyebrow at him, in a way so Regulus-like that you almost start laughing.

Regulus huffs “…Mostly not true”

James cackles, tightening his grip on Harry. Harry follows him, the corners of his lips tilting up in a genuine smile, the frown between his eyebrows melting away.

You feel like you are able to breathe after centuries of suffocation, your son’s smile being the oxygen you need to live.

“See ?” you reach out, running your fingers through Harry’s hair, pressing a soft kiss to his temple “We’re fine. We’ll always be fine”

Harry lets out a breath, and for the first time since he walked in, he fully relaxes.

The heaviest of weights suddenly gets lifted from your chest.

“Alright, I think we need something comforting after all that” after a pause, you smile looking at your son knowingly “Disney movie ?”

Harry tilts his head up so fast his glasses bounce on his nose. The sight is so endearing you almost melt to a puddle on the floor.

“Can we watch The Lion King ?” he asks, eyes sparkling and full of hope.

“Must we ?” James groans like he’s in physical pain “That movie makes me cry every time”

“Oh, yes” Regulus’ mouth curls up in that scheming way of his “Let’s absolutely watch The Lion King”

James groans again, dramatically flopping backward like a man defeated “I don’t know why I suffer like this”

Regulus rolls his eyes but tugs him up by his sleeve “Come on, drama queen”

By the time you all curl up on the couch, James is wedged between you and Regulus, and Harry is sprawled comfortably against his side, absently toying with the hem of James’s sleeve. The tension from earlier is completely gone, replaced by something much warmer, much safer.

Halfway through the movie, you glance over at Regulus. He’s still watching, his sharp features soft in the glow of the screen. James shifts slightly, reaching out to take his hand, thumb brushing over Regulus’s knuckles.

Harry watches the movement, a small, quiet smile tugging at his lips.

You catch his expression, and something warm blooms in your chest. Because this -this closeness, this love, this undeniable proof that you are his family- is what he needed to see.

You squeeze James’s other hand, and he turns to you, his expression sleepy but affectionate. He leans over, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, then shifts to nudge Regulus with his nose until he relents and kisses him too.

Harry lets out a small, amused sound, shaking his head.

“You guys are so- ” he doesn’t finish the sentence, but his voice is lighter, more at ease.

Regulus smirks “So?”

Harry just smiles “Never mind”

A comfortable silence settles between the four of you, the only sound coming from the movie playing in the background.

Then, without warning, Harry shifts. 

It happens so fast that neither of you can react properly before there’s suddenly a twelve-year-old boy flopping dramatically across your laps. His head lands squarely in yours, his legs stretch across Regulus’, and his back presses against James, pinning him in place like an overgrown cat making himself comfortable.

James lets out a surprised ‘oof’, a playful smile on his face as his arms come to rest on your son’s stomach.

Regulus, however, blinks down at the boy now draped over him like a human blanket. “Are you serious?”

“Nope, that’s Uncle Pads” Harry quips, grinning up at him from your lap.

Regulus exhales, long and suffering, and gives you a look. But his lips twitch, betraying him, as he mutters “You are so your father’s child-”

James perks up immediately, grinning proudly “He really is, isn’t he?”

“-and i did not sign up to be used as furniture” Regulus groans, but you can see the way he, instead of moving Harry off of him, shifts slightly, adjusting so the weight is more comfortable, making room for him.

You snort, tucking your feet up onto the couch, smoothing back your son’s hair, fingers slipping easily through the messy strands. 

You glance down at him, warmth flooding your chest at the sight of him looking so utterly at ease. He’s always been sharp and quick-witted, always acting like he’s too cool for affection -but now, with his head resting in your lap and his legs draped across Regulus as he smiles at him like a cheshire cat that got his way, he looks young again. Safe.

Your heart swells.

“Comfy ?” you chuckle, your thumb smoothing over Harry’s soft cheek.

“Very” he sighs dramatically, shifting just enough to make sure he’s well and truly settled, as if the three of you exist purely for his comfort.

Regulus exhales sharply, looking at you as if you can possibly fix this.

“Welcome to parenthood, love” you just shrug, biting back a smile.

Regulus huffs a light, slightly incredulous laugh, but his arms come to rest absentmindedly on Harry’s legs, hands rubbing his shins lightly over the soft fabric of those ridiculous deer printed pajama pants Sirius (and, with not little compliant from his part, Remus) had gifted him on his birthday, a soft glint in his silver eyes as he looks at your little boy and his mischievous grin. 

He looks so much like James like this. Carefree, young James, who ran through Hogwarts’ hallways without a care in the world just to see you and Regulus at the end of your class, and spouted the most absurd pick-up lines you have ever heard in your entire life still to this day.

Your gaze meets Regulus’ and you know he is thinking the same exact thing, the warm fondness in his features giving him away.

Who knew, back then, that those cheesy words and that same troublemaker smile, so similar to the one on your son’s face, would’ve led you here ?

The movie plays on, the soft glow of the television flickering over the four of you, but it’s almost secondary to the warmth settling between you all.

At some point, James shifts, letting his head drop against your shoulder, his hair tickling your neck. 

You hear him sigh. Content, comfortable.

Regulus chuckles “Are you planning to stay there forever?”

“Mmh…”James hums, making a big show of burrowing further into you before turning to press his face into Regulus’s shoulder instead “Yes”

Regulus tenses for all of three seconds before sighing and adjusting slightly. Just enough to make space for him. 

“You silly man” he murmurs, but one of his hands moves from Harry’s legs to James’s hair, fingers brushing through the still unruly as ever strands in slow, absent patterns.

You smirk, reaching over to do the same, your fingers tangling into James’s curls from the other side.

James lets out a pleased little sound, muffled against Regulus’s sweater “You both love me so much”

“Says who ?” Regulus huffs, though his fingers never stop moving. 

“The nearly fifteen years you’ve spent by my side ?” James muses, looking as smug as he did back in Hogwarts, his hair a perpetual mess and that grin that magically got him out of every trouble. 

“I’m afraid he might be right with this one” you laugh softly, letting your hand drift down to squeeze James’s shoulder, your eyes still on Regulus.

Harry, still sprawled across all three of you, cranes his neck just enough to squint up at his father “Papa, do you really require this much attention at all times?”

James, without shame, nods “Yes”

You let out a snort, because it is the truth. And even Harry noticed it.

The movie continues, and the familiar opening notes of the stampede scene start playing. 

James, already bracing himself, shifts slightly in his seat.

Regulus notices instantly. 

“Oh, for- James, are you actually-”

Harry shifts slightly, glancing up at James “Are you crying yet?”

“No” James says preemptively, voice wobbly, his eyes slowly but surely welling with tears.

You smirk “Oh, you absolutely are, Jamie”

“I am not” James insists, voice cracking slightly.

Harry snickers, tapping James’ hand on his tummy in what you are sure is supposed to be a reassuring but still teasing gesture “Sure, Papa”

“It’s not my fault this scene is heartbreaking” James groans, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand.

Regulus hums, unimpressed "It’s a children’s film, James"

"With emotional depth, Reggie!" James gestures wildly with one hand while the other stays firmly wrapped around Harry, who’s still sprawled across all three of you "Do you even have a heart?"

Regulus huffs, lips twitching "No. I sold it the day I met you"

You bite back a grin, watching the way Regulus tries –and fails– to keep a straight face while you press a kiss into James’ curls.

The movie continues to roll, but the warmth of the moment feels like it’s come to life beyond the screen. 

The laughter, the shared glances, the quiet affection -it all wraps around you like a cozy blanket, the kind you never want to leave. 

Harry, still nestled in your lap, lets out a soft sigh, his eyelids drooping as the comfort of the scene lulls him into relaxation. His head, heavy with sleep, tilts gently against your stomach, and you let out a contented breath, your hand brushing through his hair once again.

James shifts, peering down at him “We’re losing him”

You smile, reaching over to brush a few stray strands of hair from Harry’s forehead, his eyes fighting to stay open, trying not to lose their battle against exhaustion.

Regulus, still stroking James’s hair, tilts his head slightly “You’re next”

James gasps, scandalized “I am a grown man, Regulus. I do not just-” He pauses to yawn. Loudly.

“Mmhm. Sure” Regulus smirks.

You chuckle, pressing a kiss to James’s temple before tilting your head to catch Regulus’s gaze. He’s already watching you, something unreadable but unmistakably fond in his expression.

You reach for his hand, lacing your fingers together, and squeeze gently. He exhales, and then, slowly, without fanfare, he leans his head against James’, his free hand coming up to rest lightly over yours.

There’s a long moment of quiet, just the soft hum of the credits rolling in the background.

And then, in the silence-

“Reggie?” James mumbles sleepily, voice thick with drowsiness.

“Mmh ?”

James lifts his head just enough to squint at him, a lazy grin curling at his lips. “You definitely cried when Harry was born”

Regulus stills. His hand falters where it’s been absentmindedly tracing circles against your thigh, fingers going stiff. 

“What does that have to do with anything right now ?” he asks, his mask of indignation barely holding on.

A quiet snicker breaks the stillness. You glance down to find Harry --half-asleep but still listening– curled up against you, his warm breath fanning across your skin. 

He shifts just enough to peer up at Regulus, his voice drowsy but amused “Did you really?”

James grins, tightening his arm around your waist as if to anchor himself. 

“Oh, like a baby” he confirms, his voice rich with teasing as he looks at Harry with a fond but teasing smile “Mum held you up, love, and Reg absolutely lost it. Sobbing. Whole thing.”

You smother a laugh against the back of your hand. 

“I remember” you add, tilting your head to meet Regulus’s gaze “You clung to me like I was going to disappear. Kept saying, ‘He’s so small. He’s so small’”

Regulus exhales, rolling his eyes, though there’s no true irritation -just that quiet, reluctant fondness that always softens his edges when it comes to you, to James, to your son. 

“He was small” he mutters, his fingers resuming their slow, soothing strokes along Harry’s leg.

James hums, rubbing circles into your hip with his thumb. 

“He fit in my hands” he murmurs, a note of awe still lingering in his voice even now “I thought if I breathed wrong, I’d break him”

You smile fondly as the memories of that day flow through your mind. You remember being a mess, tears rolling down your eyes uncontrollably as soon as the nurse put Harry, your baby, your most precious treasure, in your arms for the first time.

And, yet, you also vividly remember that, despite the wreckage that you were, James and Regulus managed to be an even bigger trainwreck.

Harry makes a soft noise, shifting slightly between you. His words come slow and heavy with sleep “’M still here, though”

Regulus’s expression softens as he glances down at him. 

“Yes” his hand drifts almost absently to smooth over Harry’s curls, his fingers gentle and careful “You are”

Harry’s lips curl in a sleepy, knowing smile “Bet you love me even more now”

Regulus huffs a quiet laugh, thumb brushing along his son’s temple. 

“I do” he admits, an emotion in his voice, in his eyes, that he rarely lets shine through.

You and James just smile at each other fondly, sharing Regulus’ sentiment, the love etched in his gaze.

Harry, now fully amused, drowsily smirks up at him “Aw, Dad. You do have a heart”

Regulus exhales, shaking his head in bewilderment. Half of that lovely spark in his eyes turning into amusement.

“Oh, you little shit. You've been spending way too much time with uncle Sirius, you know ?” the words are warm, practically dripping in affection. And instead of pulling away, Regulus lets his hand settle on Harry’s arm, fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns.

But there’s a glint in his gaze that both you and James seem to notice, a smile blooming on your faces. 

Before Harry can react, Regulus’ hand moves down to his side, fingers pressing lightly against his ribs, just enough to make him squirm. Harry lets out a startled yelp, his body twitching instinctively as a breathy laugh spills from his lips.

“Wait- Dad- no-” Harry gasps between shrieks, already trying to wriggle away, but there’s nowhere to go. He’s sprawled across all of you, completely trapped.

“Oh ? I thought I was being soft ?” Regulus only smirks, his fingers dancing against Harry’s side, pressing gently into the most ticklish spots with practiced precision.

You grin, watching fondly as Harry flails, his laughter bubbling uncontrollably “Mercy ! Please !”

Regulus hums, pretending to consider it. 

“Hmm. Fine” he finally lets up just enough for Harry to catch his breath, fingers slowing to a gentle, absentminded rub against his ribs instead.

By the time Regulus is done with his little revenge Harry is breathless, his body lax and boneless. His laughter has faded into soft, lingering giggles, the kind that bubble up after being tickled senseless, but even those are growing quieter.

Regulus’ hands are back on your son’s leg, his touch softened, slow and rhythmic, lulling instead of teasing. He traces gentle circles against Harry’s shin and calf, fingertips barely there, and Harry exhales one last sleepy hum of contentment before completely melting into the warmth of all three of you.

A quiet settles over the room again, the kind that feels like home, like the calm after a summer rain, like steady heartbeats and shared breaths.

You can’t help but smile, watching them, watching all of them, as the flickering light from the television dances across their faces.

You feel the familiar pulse of warmth and affection surge through you. 

This is your family. Your chaotic, imperfect, but undeniably yours family.

James lets out a slow exhale, shifting slightly so that he can get more comfortable, but not enough to disturb Harry. His arm tightens just a little around your waist, pulling you closer, and you let yourself lean into him, your fingers brushing lightly over his chest.

Regulus tilts his head, watching Harry’s face, the way his lashes flutter slightly against his cheeks before going still “He’s asleep”

“Didn’t take long” James lets out a quiet chuckle, his lips curving into a fond smile.

Your chest tightens with emotion at the sight of your little boy, his face serene and content as he succumbs to the tiredness. And you can’t help but lean down, your hand gently cupping Harry’s cheek as he shifts slightly, snuggling deeper into your lap. His warm breath is a steady rhythm against your stomach.

You lean down and press a soft kiss to the crown of his head, your lips lingering there for just a second longer than usual. 

He stirs slightly but doesn’t wake. 

Your heart clenches, that protective, overwhelming love filling every inch of your chest.

James’ voice, muffled against Regulus’s shoulder, breaks the comfortable silence. 

“I love this” he says quietly, almost as if to himself, his voice filled with contentment.

Regulus doesn’t respond, but you can see the way his hand stills for a brief second before continuing to move, the gesture one of affection and care, as if he’s trying to imprint this moment in his memory forever.

Finally, you exhale, your voice quieter now, the warmth of the moment settling deep in your chest as you take it all in. 

Your family, your home, the three most important people of your life. 

“Me too” you murmur, your fingers brushing absently through Harry’s hair, holding onto this quiet, fleeting peace.

“I didn’t think I’d end up here” Regulus’ voice cuts through your thoughts, eyes locked on the screen, but you know his words are meant for you and James.

You glance up at him, surprise flickering through your heart “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, a nonchalant movement that tries to mask the emotion beneath. 

“This...us,” he gestures around the room, his gaze sweeping over the three of you and your little treasure asleep on your laps “This wasn’t exactly in my plans. Or in my dreams”

You watch Regulus for a moment, the flickering light of the television casting soft shadows across his face. He’s not looking at you, not fully, but there’s something unguarded in his expression.

James shifts slightly, enough not to wake up Harry, lifting his head just enough to glance at Regulus with a lazy, knowing smile. 

“Yeah, well-” he murmurs, voice laced with fond amusement “-neither was falling for a reckless Gryffindor and the most beautiful woman in the world, I bet. But you did anyway”

“O-ho” you chuckle softly, your fingers gently stroking through James’s messy hair. “You really know how to flatter a person, don’t you?” you tease, your tone warm, though there’s a gentle smile playing at your lips.

Regulus’s lips curl into a small, fond smile at your words, but he doesn’t say anything right away. He’s too busy watching you, a soft intensity in his gaze. 

“It’s true, though,” he murmurs after a moment, his voice uncharacteristically soft “I didn’t expect…this. At all”

“And ?” you ask softly, your grip on his hand firm, warm “Any regrets ?” 

Regulus finally looks at you then, silver eyes meeting yours for half a second before shifting to the man in between your bodies whose sleepy smile was still more blinding than the sun, and the little boy sleeping soundly on top of you who brought the greatest joy in your lives. 

“No,” he admits, quieter now, a genuine curve on his lips “No regrets”

James hums thoughtfully “Not even when I forget the laundry? Or leave potions ingredients out? Or-”

“I suggest you to stop talking before I change my answer, baby” 

James smiles that mischievous grin of his, but doesn’t replicate, his hold on you and Regulus tightening just a bit.

And in this moment, as sleep threatens to take not only you but the men by your side too, you can't help but think that you wouldn't change a thing about your family.

Your imperfectly perfect chaotic family.

As Regulus said. 

No regrets.

Laundry could definitely wait.

[juleswritesstuff]

One love, two mouths

You didn't necessarily need magic to turn fantasies into reality. Sometimes, a broken shower worked just as efficiently.

jegulus x reader

warnings: smut

Hi! So, this is technically part 2 of this request, but it can be read as a standalone, too <3

The hands on your hips guided your movements, bringing your body to collide with his in a dance of uncoordinated limbs, his grip so deliciously tight it made you hum in pleasure.

The changing room was empty, players and students of all houses already scattered through the castle to celebrate after the last match of the season. A thin fog still lingered in the air from the showers running not even half an hour before, steam clinging to the walls in rivulets of water slowly rolling down the surface. 

The same tantalizing drops cascading down your boyfriend’s body, too. You wanted to capture every single one of them with your tongue, trace the hard planes of James' chest, savor the heat of his skin.

His lips chased yours eagerly, urgently, like he starved for them and the way they molded perfectly against his.

“You'll get all wet, baby” he breathed between hungry kisses and playful bites. A sort of warning he himself didn’t seem to care too much for. Not with the way he kept holding your body so close to his, so tight, that not even a breath of hair could come in between.

The beads of water still clinging to his torso soaked your shirt, making it stick uncomfortably to your burning skin.

But you guessed it was a deserved little punishment for not being able to wait for him to even dry himself after his shower before jumping his bones. 

Who could blame you ? James looked a little too good with only that towel around his hips.

Towel that, miraculously and unfortunately, was still holding strong.

Maybe it was for the best. You didn’t want things to end too soon. 

Not before everything actually started, at least.

“That’s hardly news” you whispered playfully, licking into his mouth, your tongues seeking each other’s.

Your hands reached for his still damp hair, carding through the chocolate locks fervently, tasting the sound of his low moans right on your lips.

The muscles of his arms flexed under your touch as the hold on your hips tightened imperceptibly.

“I meant your clothes” he purred with an amused chuckle, lips continuing their torturing journey on your skin, leaving a trail of heated, open-mouthed kisses down your sensitive neck, feeling your heartbeat against his tongue.

“Don’t care,” you exhaled with a smirk he couldn’t see but could definitely hear by the way he smiled on your skin “they’re coming off anyway” 

Or you sure hoped so. 

His hands leaving your lower back to travel up and unbutton your, now soaked and almost see through, shirt with skilled and impatient fingers definitely kept your hopes up.

“Will this be our new victory celebration ? Fucking in the showers ?” 

By the amused tone of his voice, he didn’t seem to mind one bit.

Gryffindor had won the infamous match James had lost nights of sleep for, thinking of strategies to defeat the, apparently unbeatable, Slytherin team and talking about a certain marvelous seeker non-stop.

The same seeker who seemed to be kind of out of it during the whole game, in your humble opinion. 

You were no Quidditch expert, but you were a Regulus one for sure.

You knew something was going on, still you couldn’t put your finger on it, really. 

Maybe he simply got a bit distracted by the sun getting in his eyes ?

Maybe it shined a little too brightly to be ignored ?

And maybe that sun had a name and a last name, too ? 

Who knew ?

Definitely not you. Right ?

Your mouth curved into a grin.

“Win again and you'll find out”

The digits masterfully working on the wet fabric stopped their ministrations, leaving your blouse half open.

His eyes trailed on the exposed skin of your cleavage, the lacy bra that hugged your curves peeking through the now open cloth.

The quiet ‘fuck’ groaned under his breath had no business turning you on the way it did. But how could it not when he looked at you like you were some sort of ethereal Goddess put on earth for him to worship ?

His mouth turned even more eager, hungrier. Fierce kisses decorated your skin, teasing bites complemented it with delicate shades of crimson soothed by the gentle caress of his tongue.

He traveled down, tracing your shoulder, your collarbone, your sternum, almost reaching the tender flesh of your breasts.

Almost.

Because the sound of a throat clearing echoed through the empty changing room like the rumble of thunder announcing a storm on a summer day.

The same storm that colored his eyes.

James nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice shattering the little bubble of intimacy you and him had gotten lost in, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights.

He slowly pulled away from your skin, glossy gaze focused on the source of that sound.

There, in the middle of the room, eyes settled on the mess of intertwined limbs you and your boyfriend were not even a moment ago, stood Regulus.

The corners of your mouth curled up the slightest bit.

“Ehm- I fear this is not the Slytherin changing room” James' words sounded uncertain, cautious. Almost afraid that the brooding angel that had appeared so suddenly would bite him if he said the wrong thing in the wrong way.

And he was absolutely right to be.

Regulus did bite. Metaphorically and physically speaking.

Regulus’ eyes trailed over your flushed cheeks, your neck scattered in hickeys, your soaked and half open blouse almost fully showcasing your chest and letting your bra peek through the fabric.

“I noticed,” he said, silver gaze shifting to roam over your boyfriend’s mouth-watering body, running all over James’ sun-kissed skin and the muscles flexing underneath it, the hard lines of his abs, the alluring way his v-line led down and down until it disappeared under that damn towel “These outrageous colors are hard to miss”

Unfortunately for him, the sharp sarcasm dripping from his tone did nothing to conceal the clear interest written in his eyes.

You had the feeling he wasn't talking about the colors at all.

And they surely didn’t seem so hideous if the way he subconsciously wet his lips at the sight in front of him was of any indication.

You wondered how much he saw, how long he had taken in the scene in front of him before deciding he had enough.

“What brings you here ?” James’ tone wasn't accusing, just curious. Careful. 

The way he gulped soundly at the view of Regulus’ tongue peeking through his parted lips didn’t go unnoticed.

“Except for the questionable decor, of course” you added, teasing. A daring glint shining in your eyes.

Regulus didn’t answer. Not even a word. 

He just kept observing, gaze shifting between you and James as the silver in his eyes melted, the blackness of his pupil almost erasing it completely.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as his eyes set on you at last.

“Our showers stopped working” he stated, looking at you attentively, calculating. Like, somehow, he knew.

You wouldn’t have been surprised if he did. 

It was Regulus Black you were talking about after all.

One of the brightest students in Hogwarts, star player of the Slytherin Quidditch team, the most sharp-minded person you had ever met.

And your ex-boyfriend who knew every corner of the maze your mind was.

No one fooled Regulus Black. Not even you.

“They just…broke ?” the Slytherin’s eyes peeled from your figure to focus on James and his slightly puzzled frown. Like he couldn’t really think it was possible.

“Oh, no. They gave me a warning before they did. Like every inanimate, non-incantated object would do” Regulus deadpanned, eyes narrowed and tone tinged with his trademark bite.

James, to his credit, didn’t seem the slightest bit fazed by it. If anything, he looked amused, every trace of confusion and tentativeness disappearing from his face to make space for an intrigued, mischievous smile. 

“Showers speak ?” he asked in mock bewilderment, “Merlin, I bet they talk real shit about me and my ear-splitting singing, then” his head tilted to the side in that cocky but infuriatingly charming manner of his, looking at Regulus with a spark of challenge.

You shook your head at your boyfriend’s words, eyes rolling in amusement as the corners of your mouth pulled into a grin.

James was playing with fire, and he knew that. 

He knew that perfectly well.

Regulus' gaze narrowed, piercing and intense.

“Are you ever serious ?” a sheer annoyance coated his tone.

James’ eyes lit up.

“No,” he smirked, troublemaker grin on full display “I’m always James”

You almost choked on the chuckle you had to suppress. Not at the joke per se, but at the shameless audacity with which he had made it. 

You knew your boyfriend was a little reckless sometimes, his lack of self-preservation wasn't well-known among his Gryffindor peers for nothing, but you had never seen him come so close to the flames, risking being burned to the bone.

The fire in question being none other than Regulus Black.

“You think you’re funny” he stated utterly unimpressed, a perfectly arched brow cocked up.

“Sometimes” your boyfriend smiled smugly.

A huff escaped the Slytherin’s mouth, head shaking from side to side in disbelief.

When he stopped it was to look directly at you.

“How do you put up with him ?” he asked, aloof and direct as always.

James didn’t seem fazed by the harsh straightforwardness of Regulus’ question, the self-satisfied smile on his lips only growing. 

He was used to the Slytherin being borderline mean to him, and he didn’t seem to mind it one bit. You thought he liked that, even.

He was into feisty people, it appeared.

A similar grin tugged at the corners of your lips.

That was your chance.

It was now or never.

“How about I show you ?”

Both their expressions froze for a second.

Two pairs of eyes set on you as the, almost imperceptible, sound of buttons being freed from their loops followed your words. Your hands reached for your shirt, finishing what James had started.

A shiver ran down your spine as the half-soaked fabric caressed your heated skin, sliding off of your shoulders until it met the floor with a soft rustle.

“If you want,”

You held their gazes, eyes shifting from, equally wide and dumbfounded, cold steel to rich hazel back and forth while your fingers trailed on the hem of your skirt. Your hands worked unhurriedly, rolling the zipper down, letting the fabric slide off your hips as you swayed them just enough to help the cloth glide down your thighs, until it fell on the dark hardwood, joining your already forgotten blouse. 

“If you let me”

The room was still filled with sheer steam, clinging to your almost fully exposed body and making your skin glisten under the warm light of the setting sun seeping through the high windows. However, that wasn’t the reason for the increasing heat spreading through every fiber of your being.

Their eyes trailed on your figure, on the way the lace of the very special set you had chosen to wear under your clothes hugged your curves just right, enhancing your silhouette and fitting you like a glove.

There was a, not so veiled, thrill in James’ stunned stare as he drank you in, his mouth agape like he had never seen you like that. Like you weren't the one chanting his name like a prayer almost every night.

Regulus’ gaze darkened with a scorching intensity, not a glimmer of gray in sight as he took you in completely, eyes traveling on that body he had one worshiped like it was a temple.

He observed you, analyzing your tone, your words, the way your eyes kept bouncing between him and James.

“That’s a dangerous game you’re playing” his voice came out low, hoarse.

One of your brows quirked up.

“What game ?” there was no teasing in your tone, no trace of amusement “I was merely extending an offer”

You weren’t blind, nor stupid. You had eyes and they worked well. Some might say a bit too well. 

You observed, you watched carefully, read the room with a quick glance. It was your thing, noticing things others didn’t.

In all honesty, your discovery had little to do with your observation skills.

It was the shivers along your spine, the hair at the base of your neck standing up, the way every single nerve of your body responded to that magnetic pull. Every time their gazes locked the earth shifted on its axes and gravity wasn’t the reason your feet were on the ground anymore. It was the weight of those eyes, the desire dripping from them. 

Desire for one another. 

Desire for you. 

Their eyes met, slowly, tentatively, like they had done so many times before, that same tsunami of emotions raging in them like a storm waiting to be freed.

The room charged with a buzzing tension, and you swore you could feel it. That spark igniting, those flames burning every doubt to ashes.

Their gazes returned to you, tension becoming electric.

For a moment, nothing happened. Not a sound, not a word.

Then-

The hide covering the soles of his shoes produced a soft, dull sound on the hardwood floor as Regulus suddenly took a step forward, thick leather gloves meeting the ground with a quiet thud.

Your eyes zeroed on that movement, a sudden rush of adrenaline running through your veins.

Another step, and his arm pads were tossed aside, not a single second look spared at them.

Your boyfriend’s gaze matched yours, following every single motion of Regulus’ body.

One more stride, and his shin pads joined the rest of the mess, completely forgotten.

Until he stood directly in front of you and James.

“Do it, then”

A beat of silence passed.

“Show me”

He started with the emerald cape hugging his shoulders, unlacing the thin leather strings, and letting it slip off smoothly until cascaded to the floor in a velvety whisper.

Slender fingers grabbed the hem of his jersey, lifting it up slowly, excruciatingly so, revealing inch after inch of alabaster skin.

Lean, defined muscles rippled underneath his flesh, flexing at every hint of movement, every shift of his body, creating an alluring path that led further and further down.

He unclasped his belt without hesitation, tossing it aside unceremoniously before he went to work on his pants, unbuttoning them with little effort, digits fiddling with the zipper before rolling it down.

In a matter of seconds, he got rid of his shoes, slithered the fabric off his toned legs exposing the milky skin of his thighs, and disregarded them on the floor.

His gaze never faltered. Not even one bit.

Your brain short-circuited at the sight presented in front of you, mouth dry and heart about to jump out of your chest.

“Fucking hell”

Those two strangled words coming out from James' mouth perfectly reflected every thought swirling through your head in that precise moment.

Fucking hell, indeed. 

Because Regulus was practically naked, with that half smirk curving his lips and a firestorm rampaging in his eyes.

You turned to your boyfriend, and your knees almost gave out. 

The eagerness in his eyes, the hunger, the need simmering in them as he drank in the image of you and Regulus, together and bare, before him almost knocked the breath off your lungs.

You looked at him, holding his burning gaze, waiting. A clear question etched in your eyes.

And you ? Would you let me ?

The answer seemed obvious seeing the way he couldn’t take his eyes off of either you or Regulus. 

It was written all over him, the way he craved you, the way he craved both of you.

James wore his heart on his sleeve, it wasn’t hard to figure out what kind of thoughts were flooding his mind.

His response should’ve been obvious to you, crystal clear.

“Isn’t he beautiful ?”

“Y/n…”

“Come on, It's just an innocent question”

“Is it ?” 

"Absolutely”

“Liar”

“Answer me, Jamie. Isn't Regulus gorgeous ?”

“Fuck, fuck- yes. Yes, he is. He is- holy shit. And you are, too. You are. You both are. And I really need you right now or I'll literally combust on the spot”

He had told you not even a week before between low moans, breathy whimpers and your body moving on top of him making him lose every ounce of control. 

But you needed him to say it again. Something, anything, to make sure that conversation wasn’t just another product of your fantasies.

Except that James’ mouth didn’t move. Not until it was on you.

That mere, insignificant step between your bodies turned into dust the moment your lips collided.

It was urgent, desperate, the way he sucked on your lips, on your tongue, his hands gripping your hips so deliciously tight you knew they would leave a mark imprinted on your skin.

And you couldn’t wait for it. You wanted it. 

You wanted more. 

You wanted everything.

“I’m at your mercy” he uttered helplessly, yielding “Whatever you want, however you want it. It’s yours”

“James-”

“It’s yours”

It took you a second to understand, to fully grasp the meaning of his words, but once you did-

Oh, the thrill it sent down your spine.

Yours.

As is in you and Regulus.

Whatever you and Regulus wanted. However you and Regulus wanted it.

The blood running through your veins turned into lava, liquid heat simmering beneath your flesh.

“You mean that ?” Regulus’ voice came out low and more wavering than you had ever heard it, James’ words affecting him just as much as they had affected you. You could hear the control slipping away from him, vanishing little by little like the space between your bodies.

He was close.

They were close.

You were all a mere whisper apart from each other and it was intoxicating how you could feel the heat radiating from their skin, how their hands itched to touch, to feel, how the color in their eyes vanished with every second that passed, swallowed by that need that was raging inside each one of you. 

James’ eyes shifted to your left, settling on Regulus, looking at him breathlessly, speechless, admiring the work of art before him.

Messy curls, glossy eyes, red lips, smooth skin. 

He was a vision.

“Potter” it was bewitching the way that single word rolled off Regulus’ tongue, so firm and yet so soft, as he took a small step forward, lowering his voice to a whisper “I asked if you mean that”

And your boyfriend, who looked like he was about to get on his knees and worship the ground you and Regulus walked on, just looked at him with earnest, lidded eyes.

“I do” he choked out breathlessly “I really fucking do”

Then it happened.

The moment Regulus’ lips met James,’ everything stopped.

For three seconds. 

Three seconds in which the concept of time and space shattered to pieces.

Three seconds that lasted a blink of an eye and a century altogether.

Three seconds for James’ brain to fully understand what was happening, to realize that it was actually happening.

Three seconds and then the world set on fire.

James dived in the kiss like a man starved and Earth started spinning again, faster than it ever did before.

Every cell, every nerve and muscle, every single inch of your being came to life at the image unfolding in front of you.

James latched onto Regulus’ mouth like it was his first meal after weeks of starvation. Like he had been dying to feel that taste on his tongue and was slowly getting consumed by how addictive it was.

Regulus’ hand slipped to the back of James’ neck, drawing him even closer, lips moving on his just as relentlessly, just as famished, pure, and unfiltered need etched in the way he chased after the Gryffindor like he was the oxygen missing in his lungs.

Their tongues brushed, teasing and greedy, mouths swallowing every sound, every moan.

But, as Regulus grazed James’ bottom lip lewdly, feeling the plump and swollen flesh between his teeth while your boyfriend became putty in his hands, you couldn’t help but think that the one who lacked air to breathe was you.

You felt dizzy, high like you were on the most powerful of drugs. 

And, maybe, you even were. Because there was no other explanation for the sudden euphoria taking over your body like a tidal wave, engulfing you in a sea of need, and taking you deeper and deeper until you couldn’t breathe anymore.

You were drowning, and you couldn’t have cared less. The current taking you away was too strong, too compelling for you to resist it.

So, you didn’t.

You had set that storm in motion, after all.

Suddenly, an arm wrapped around you, bringing you back to reality and taking over every other thought running through your brain. 

A shiver ran down your spine and spread all over your body at the gentle yet urgent pressure of a strong hand on your lower back, urging you forward.

The two bodies in front of you disentangled from their embrace of limbs and tongues but never disconnected.

James’ hand was still on Regulus’ hip, sun-kissed fingers against pearly skin. His other arm was on your back, guiding you forward until you were surrounded by heat and wandering hands. Right in between them.

“Enjoying the show ?” Regulus’ breath fanned over the shell of your ear, hot and uneven, smirk concealed from your eyes but unmistakably there. His chest pressed against your back, the lean outline of his abs kissing your skin, molding to your silhouette.

And you would’ve loved to answer, let him know everything that was going through your mind in that precise moment, had it not been for another pair of sinful lips preventing you from doing exactly that.

James' mouth was hungry, relentless as it chased yours, kissing you so intensely you felt his need to your core.

Your bodies were glued, chest to chest, the material of your bra thin enough to make you feel his scorching skin right through it.

Behind you, Regulus’ mouth hovered over your neck, so dangerously close to that sweet spot right below your ear that you were struggling to keep the pathetic moan threatening to leave your throat to yourself.

His lips finally brushed your skin, teeth biting gently, teasing, soothing the delicious sting with his tongue only to start all over again. 

All the fight left your body at once.

Your mouth parted, a cry of pleasure rolling out.

And James, who you felt smirk like he had hit the jackpot himself, took full advantage of that. His tongue dipped between your lips, licking and savoring every inch of your mouth as if he didn't already know it by heart, swallowing every little delighted sound escaping your throat and going even deeper.

You were intoxicated, lost in the feeling of those two bodies that had hunted your fantasies now flushed against yours in flesh, and blood.

“It’s rude not to answer, love” your boyfriend’s voice was breathless, hoarse as he pulled away just long enough to let you breathe. That same smirk plastered onto his kiss-bruised lips.

An airless scoff left your lungs at the audacity of that statement.

“Says the one shutting me up” your retort was weak, winded, yet laced with sheer snark.

The playful half-smile he gave you in return made your knees weak. 

Or, maybe, it was Regulus and his mouth still busy worshiping your neck.

Or the fact that you felt their hands all over your body. Your arms, your waist, hips, thighs. Everyfuckingwhere.

A familiar warmth pooled at the pit of your stomach, a gentle heat that begged to be fueled.

You couldn’t wait anymore.

“James” you exhaled, trying to ground yourself, to not lose focus.

“Yes, love ?” his lips had slid to the other side of your neck, mirroring Regulus in his mission to make you fall apart.

But you had something else in mind.

“The, fuck-” you gasped, Regulus’ hand wandering dangerously close to where you ached the most “-the bench”

You didn’t have to repeat it twice. 

Your boyfriend’s mouth traveled back up swiftly, leaving small, feather-light kisses along your skin until he reached your lips, tasting them briefly once again.

There was no trace of questioning in his eyes, not even a speck of uncertainty. 

His words echoed through your head like a mantra as his body untangled from yours, albeit a bit reluctantly if the lingering touch of his hands on your hips was of any indication, to reach the wooden bench a few steps behind you.

'Whatever you want, however you want it. It’s yours'.

He had said it, and he had meant it. No questions asked.

If Regulus had said something instead, you had no doubt he would have complied just as easily.

Which brought you back to said boy and his unholy mouth teasing that sweet spot on your neck.

You turned around in his embrace, facing him, his arms still circling your figure, caressing your heated skin before they ultimately settled on your hips.

After so much time, you were standing in front of him once again, face to face and barely clothed, like you had done so many times before.

Before James. Before all of that.

It took him less than a second to capture your mouth with his.

The groan echoing in the room went directly to your core.

You weren’t even sure where it had come from.

Was it Regulus ? 

Was it James ? 

It could’ve very well been you, for all you knew.

It didn’t matter.

Not when Regulus’ tongue slipped past your lips, licking into your mouth like not even a day had passed from the last time.

“I missed you” his breath mingled with yours, hot and uneven, as he spoke those words right on you.

A faint, mischievous smirk curved your mouth.

“Yet, you jumped my boyfriend’s bones first chance you got instead” you bit his bottom lip playfully, teasing. Just like the hint in your voice.

Regulus’ grip on your waist tightened imperceptibly, bringing your body fully on his, letting his hands wander.

They slid beneath the hem of your panties, his palms gently smoothing over the supple flesh of your ass, pulling you forward.

“I have your taste branded on my tongue, Y/n” he breathed, looking you in the eyes with a heat that could’ve turned the Forbidden Forest to ashes in seconds “Can you blame me for wanting to try this new one I’ve been craving first ?”

Could you ?

It was James Potter you were talking about, after all. Gryffindor's Golden Boy, the sweetheart, the boy with a smile more blinding than the sun and the body of a God.

You couldn't have blamed Regulus even if you had been actually serious about your little provocation.

Who better than you could’ve understood him ?

Another low grunt reached your ears. And, this time, you were sure it couldn't have come from either you or Regulus.

No, that was James.

James who sat on the bench at the center of the changing room, just a few feet away from you. 

James, whose legs were spread, defined muscles flexing under smooth skin. 

James, whose towel was long forgotten on the floor. 

James who was lazily stroking himself at the sight of you and Regulus together.

Head thrown back enough to expose the blooming red marks on his neck, lustful lidded eyes looking at you through thick lashes, muscles shifting hypnotizingly at every lazy glide of his hand on his half-hard cock.

That view almost brought you to your knees. Literally.

But if the loud gulp bobbing Regulus’ Adam’s apple up and down was of any indication, you weren’t the only one to have such thoughts.

His eyes trailed over your boyfriend’s each and every move. Greedy, hungry.

A dark chuckle left his throat.

“I think I understand you now” his warm breath fanned over the shell of your ear, his lips taunting the skin with every word whispered.

Goosebumps rose all over your body.

“And what is that you understand exactly, mmh ?” your tone was as teasing as his mouth on you as you found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from the scene unfolding in front of you.

James groaned again, guttural, and low as the hand bringing him pleasure sped up just enough to grant him some sweet relief.

“As if you don’t already know” Regulus’ voice was breathy, heavy, the light smirk around his words going straight between your thighs to add fuel to the already raging fire simmering in your veins, his gaze mirroring yours. His words were followed by skillful fingers, traveling up your torso, dancing on your skin, reaching the thin, lacy straps of your bra, and sliding them off your shoulders reverentially, placing a kiss right on that now naked spot.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t” you taunted, your head turning to catch the ravenous glint in those mesmerizing pools of silver.

“Maybe-” your tongue darted out, licking over his lips tantalizingly “-I just want to hear you say it”

The corner of his mouth tilted upward slightly, eyes burning into yours.

“You play dirty, darling” he whispered, his left hand tracing your back, sending shivers down your spine as his practiced fingers unhooked the clasps of your bra in a swift, precise move.

You heard James’ moan, fighting a lost battle as he tried to suppress a curse under his breath.

The humid air hit your bare chest, and you bit your lips to not let the most pathetic whine out.

“I told you, this is not a game” you managed to utter, head falling back, resting on Regulus’ shoulder but inclined enough to still witness James trying not to slowly lose every ounce of control, as he explored your almost naked body like he was studying a map, imprinting it in his brain like he hadn’t already uncovered every inch of it with his hands. Or his tongue.

“What do you want me to say, then ? That he is charming ?” he whispered right on your neck, his body now flushed against yours once again-

“That he is funny ?”

His mouth rested on your pulse point, feeling the blood pumping through your veins like a tsunami, tasting the beat of your heart on his tongue, his teeth grazing your skin sensually-

“That he is the hottest guy I've ever laid eyes on ?”

His lean yet strong muscles surrounded you, kissing your back, circling your silhouette in the filthiest of embraces, bringing you impossibly closer, hands traveling down and down-

“That him sitting there, stroking his cock like that, gets me like this ?”

His erection pressed against the plump flesh of your ass, hard as a rock, letting you feel all of him through the thin fabric of his underwear as his hand slid beneath the hem of your panties-

“That I want to taste him while I worship your sweet cunt, his cum dripping from you as you beg for more ? As you beg for both of us ?”

His slender fingers glided over the tender skin of your folds, collecting your arousal, spreading it all over you, teasing you as he caressed that sweet spot that had you see stars. 

Your head was in the clouds, hazy. You felt drunk, like you had gobbled down an entire liquor store all on your own. Regulus’ words poured gasoline on the already tempestuous fire taking over your body.

Yet, you couldn't help but smile like you had just won the highest prize in that unfair lottery called ‘life’, ecstasy soaking through every nerve, every cell of your body.

Because, right in that moment, it felt like you really fucking did.

And it was better than anything your dirty little brain could’ve ever come up with.

A breathless chuckle escaped your lips, a dark, taunting smile settling on them as your eyes turned as sharp as a cat’s, as inviting as the most forbidden of desires.

“If you wanted a taste, Reggie, you could’ve just said so”

Peeling yourself from his frame, your feet moved.

Regulus followed right behind, his hands unable to leave the soft curve of your waist as you walked that mere meter that separated you from James and his filthy little noises.

A few steps and you were in front of him, a half-smirk tugging at your lips.

“Impatient as always” you teased him, words as smooth as silk albeit the clear breathlessness in your voice “Couldn’t even wait, mmh ?”

James’ head tilted up, looking at you through that lascivious veil glazing his gaze as his mouth brushed the soft flesh of your stomach.

Your hands found place in his hair almost automatically, bringing him unconsciously closer.

“You think I would’ve managed to ?” he asked raggedly, leaving a kiss right above your navel, beginning the sweetest of journeys “With you two in front of me like that ?” he traveled down, leaving a trail of open-mouthed pecks on your heated skin.

He stopped at the hem of your panties, taking the flimsy fabric between his teeth before letting it go with a gentle ‘snap’ on your skin, the sting barely there but still able to elicit a hiss through your teeth.

His mouth dropped even lower, hovering on your aching core.

“You have no idea of the power you have on me, then” the soft kiss he left on your clothed clit snatched a whimper out of you.

James’ dark gaze fell on the boy by your side, a hand on his hip guiding him forward gently.

James’ lips worshiped Regulus’ body with the same reverence they had venerated yours, running over his lean abdomen, tongue tracing every line of his abs, biting his hipbone temptingly. 

“You’re ah-” a throaty groan cut off the Slytherin’s words “-a fucking tease, Potter”

Your boyfriend grinned against smooth, untainted skin, dropping lower and lower until the only thing remaining between his plump lips and Regulus’ clothed, rock-hard erection was less than a breath of air.

“Oh ? Am I ?”

Regulus didn’t answer.

Not because he didn’t want to --the way his lips parted like he was fully ready to bite back being enough evidence of that– but because he couldn’t.

Not with James’ tongue peeking out, licking a wet stripe along his underwear, tracing the outline of his shaft like he wanted to memorize every inch of it by heart, engrave it in his mind forever.

Regulus gasped, followed by a strangled moan.

James’ fingers hooked onto the elastic of his underwear and every word died in his throat. 

The sound of fabric hitting the floor shouldn’t have made you feel that kind of adrenaline, but it did, nonetheless. Your heartbeat was so fast, hammering so strong that you could feel it everywhere.

Your throat, your ears, between your thighs; your whole body was trembling with desire.

Your head was spinning, blood flowing in your veins so hot it burned, legs clenching together unconsciously, seeking even the faintest of reliefs at the sight gracing your eyes. A sight which your fantasies couldn’t have even come close to.

Because Regulus was naked, completely bare before you and James, his delicately sculpted body on full display. And he was painfully hard.

James swallowed, eyes blown wide and trailing on the expanse of Regulus’ alabaster skin, admiring him like he was a piece of art.

He was entranced, mesmerized, so lost into that sight that his words failed him.

He glanced at you, that same enchanted expression etched onto his features.

An incredulous half-chuckle escaped his lips, lifting the corner of his mouth in a disbelieved smile.

“Holy shit-”

It came out as nothing more than a whisper, his gaze fixated on the silhouettes in front of him like he wanted to take in every inch of skin and brand it in his brain for the rest of his life. 

“Everything alright ?”

Your voice echoed through the room, the amused spark around your words surely not going unnoticed.

“Absolutely nothing could be wrong right now, trust me” your boyfriend said with a sincere smile and that speck of euphoria still making his eyes shine under the warm light as they glanced back and forth between you and Regulus “Just trying to figure out if this is a dream, a very realistic hallucination from the deepest part of my mind or I’m truly awake. Which I’m really praying I am”

You couldn’t help but grin at his statement. You felt the exact same way.

“You fantasize about this often, Potter ?” came Regulus' voice, laced with an amusement that caressed your skin with its velvety timbre.

One of his hands rose to comb through James’ unruly locks.

Visible goosebumps raised on James’ sun-kissed skin, Regulus’ sultry voice visibly affecting him as much as it affected you.

The ecstatic curve on your boyfriend’s face didn’t falter for a second. The spark in his eyes lit up even more, burning brighter than the sun and, simultaneously, darkening his gaze like black clouds concealed the sky before the most destructive of storms.

What a remarkable sight. 

All that hunger, all that need, enclosed in a pair of mesmerizing hazel eyes. 

“I think you already know the answer to that” 

Regulus’ eyebrow arched slightly in surprise, his gaze narrowing, studying the boy in front of him, analyzing the provocative hint in his deep voice, the purposefully challenging meaning he had given to his words.

“Do you ?” you asked, gaze focusing on molten silver and black hair.

Two pairs of eyes settled on you, following your every movement, every slight shift of muscles beneath silken skin as you slowly slid your panties down, letting them glide off your legs, until they dropped on the floor, joining the rest of the clothes scattered all over the hardwood surface.

“You do. Don’t you, Regulus ?”

You knew he did. You knew him. 

All the things he tried to conceal from others, all the things he didn’t say with his mouth he spoke them through those damn eyes. And, sometimes, they were louder than words could ever be.

“Fuck-” 

That sole, breathy word coming out of their mouth, spoken in unison, would’ve almost made you crack a smile had it been any other day, any other time.

But at that moment, with their eyes dripping with pure need, showcasing every shade of desire they felt as they took in every single inch of your figure, of the body they had made their mission to adore and cherish and worship, nothing felt amusing.

“Jamie” you called, gaze glued to those pools of silver.

Pure electricity filled the room, charging the atmosphere with a tension so high you felt it sizzle in the air.

A single hum of acknowledgement let you know that he had heard you.

“Come here. Let Regulus have a seat”

He complied without hesitation, leaving the bench and taking his place next to you, hands almost automatically finding home on your waist.

Regulus’ eyes never left your figure, heavy with a plethora of feelings you had never quite seen on his face, as he too, followed your implicit request.

He sat in front of you in all its glory, legs spread, and muscles taut.

Your hand went to gently rest under his chin, guiding his head up until his lidded eyes met yours, your thumb caressing the plump flesh of his kissed-bruised lips.

“Tell me” your voice sounded as sweet as honey to your own ears “What are your fantasies Regulus ?”

The haziness in his eyes almost knocked the air out of your lungs, his lips puckering the faintest bit to leave the gentlest, most enticing feathery kiss on the finger still lingering on the plump, swollen flesh of his lip before curling up in a sweet yet sultry smile.

Your heart almost jumped out of your chest at the near reverent gesture, at the way his glossy gaze dripped with eagerness. 

You were dangerously close to losing yourself in those pits of need, had it not been for the loud gulp coming from right next to you. 

You turned your head to meet James’ gaze.

Except that you weren’t able to.

You couldn’t.

Because it was stuck on Regulus’ mouth and the way it molded against your digit. It zeroed on that simple motion, taking it in like it was the most enthralling sight in the entire world. 

A small, knowing grin made its way on your face as the realization hit you.

A discovery that didn’t get lost on Regulus either if the sensation of his lips widening in a mischievous grin right against the soft pad of your thumb was anything to go by. 

Your eyes were fixated on James, so focused on the hypnotized look on his face as his never left Regulus’ lips, on the way his pupils dilated so much the color vanished completely, on the uneven rise and fall of his chest, that you missed the Slytherin’s lips parting, his tongue peeking out, teasing the pad of your finger, biting it playfully before taking it in his mouth, engulfing it in its heat.

Your head turned to him so fast, your neck almost snapped.

You found him grinning. 

Regulus was grinning.

Not that you could make it out clearly with the way his lips wrapped around your thumb like he was sucking on the tastiest goddamn lollipop ever. His eyes, however --they showed it, they screamed it. How proud, how pleased he was with himself to have not only you, but your boyfriend too, wrapped around his finger with just that dirty little move.

Words failed you.

The air got stuck in your throat.

He looked unreal.

“How about I show you” he said, freeing your digit from the warm embrace of his mouth, his voice so hoarse and compelling it went straight between your legs.

Red-hot heat simmered in his glazed eyes, more scorching than hell itself.

You didn’t have time to even register Regulus’ words fully, your mind too lost, too clouded by the unholy image in front of you to focus on the way his hands reached for your legs, hooking behind your knees, manhandling you like you were deadweight. As he pleased.

Until you were almost sat, nearly straddling him, his length sliding over your naked, drenched heat.

The moan that left you felt downright pathetic to your own ears, but not to the two boys next to you apparently. Not with the way James’ hardness twitched in interest as a strangled groan reverberated in his throat. Not with the way Regulus’ grip reflexively tightened around you, inching you closer, his leaking head pressing on your clit.

The delicious friction made you cry in ecstasy, jolts of pleasure traveling through your whole body.

A euphoric smirk grew on your lips.

“Is this the shape your dreams take, Reggie ?” you whispered, so close to him your warm, ragged breath fanned on his skin “Me riding your cock ? Having my boyfriend watch as you take me apart ? Wishing it was his cock in your mouth ?”

The sound of a choked-out hiss filled the room. 

And it didn’t come from the boy beneath you.

The grin on Regulus’ face turned dangerous, dark.

“Sit on it, and you’ll find out”

The hint of challenge coating his tone sent pure adrenaline running through your veins.

You couldn’t help the airless chuckle that left your mouth.

If James was a tease, Regulus was a full-on menace.

But luckily, he was a menace you knew how to handle perfectly well.

“Want to fill me up so bad, mmh ?” you murmured, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and pulling lightly, just enough for it to sting.

Licking at the seam of his lips, you rested your arm around his neck, granting you enough of a balance. Meanwhile, your other hand started wandering. Tracing his jaw, his shoulders, the lean yet sculpted planes of his chest, reaching further and further down.

Until it wrapped around him, stiff and hot against your palm, tongue rolling against his in time with your practiced strokes.

The groan that came from his throat felt like enough of an answer.

So, you lowered your body slowly, steadily, angling his tip with your entrance before sinking onto his length like you had been born to.

A fairly easy task, seeing that you were wetter than you had ever been in your entire life.

Every inch of him breaching your velvety walls, every little vein scattered on the hard, smooth surface of his shaft; you felt it.

You felt it all.

Your hips collided, your thighs wrapping around him as he sheathed himself inside of you fully, burying himself so deep his head kissed your cervix, filling you to the brim.

All the oxygen got knocked out of your lungs, the stretch so good your senses go into hyperdrive.

“Shit- Y/n-” a moan reverberated in his chest as your walls clenched, contracting around him as you got used to the, once, familiar and, more than welcome, intrusion.

There was a voice in your head, telling you to move your hips, ride him until you were nothing but a babbling mess on top of him, tears streaming down your face from pure delight.

But you didn’t. You didn’t give in to that extremely tempting thought, no.

You just sat there, impaling yourself on your ex-boyfriend’s dick, letting his shape mold your insides.

“Fuck- You’re tight” Regulus rasped, the twitch of him inside of you nearly making you lose it.

But, once again, you didn’t seem to be alone in that sentiment.

Breathy, barely audible whimpers joined the cacophony of delighted sounds tumbling out of your and Regulus’ mouth, and your eyes fell on James.

On the way his gaze followed the arch of your back, the curve of your breasts, the blissful expression on your face as you took Regulus’ dick like you were made for it.

An elated smile made its way on your face, breaking through the fog of lust and need clouding your brain.

Oh, he liked it.

He seemed transfixed, completely enraptured by that sight, his fingers traveling along his tanned skin. A path that led exactly to where he was aching the most.

That was, until Regulus stopped him.

The hand not busy anchoring you to him searched for James,’ gently but firmly halting his movements right before he could relieve the visibly aching hardness between his legs.

He turned his head slightly, enough to look at the boy to his side straight in the eyes, his gaze never faltering, not even for a second, as the corners of his mouth tilted up in the lewdest, dirtiest smile.

“Don’t-” he panted, adding his alluring, strained voice to the already filthy melody hanging in the air like, spreading his hand on your boyfriend’s hip, and pulling him forward gently “-I want to feel you down my throat while I fuck her”

Bloody fucking hell, you were sure you had reached heaven.

“Jesus-” James hissed through gritted teeth, his shaft twitching in interest, reacting to Regulus’ salacious words “-got quite a mouth there, huh ?”

Regulus looked at the boy in front of him straight in the eyes, his gaze never faltering, not even for a second as the corners of his mouth tilted up in the lewdest, dirtiest little smile.

“Is that so ?” his tongue darted out slowly, tantalizingly as it gave James’ sensitive tip the tiniest of licks. The low, strangled sound that came out of your boyfriend’s mouth felt illegal to even hear “Let’s make good use of it, then”

A rush of adrenaline ran through your veins, setting every cell of your body ablaze, almost driving you to move your hips, relieving some of that need pooling at the pit of your stomach.

You watched as Regulus’ fingers leisurely wrapped around James’ shaft, feeling his weight in his hand, giving him a couple of experimental strokes.

Meanwhile, his mouth kept exploring. Licking, kissing, and teasing along James’ length, following the path of his touch. 

Until he reached his head.

And you couldn’t help but gawk, entranced and lustful, as Regulus’ plump lips sealed around it, enveloping it salaciously into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing slightly as he gave it the gentlest of sucks.

“God-” James visibly shivered, goosebumps covering his skin as the other kept working him up slowly, swirling around his tip, collecting his arousal on his tongue before pulling away with an obscenely wet ‘pop.’

You hadn’t even begun to process what you had just witnessed when Regulus, eyes glossy and lips shiny in what surely was a mix of his own saliva and James’ pre-cum, dived in and kissed you like it was his last day on earth.

It was brutal, uncoordinated, and the hottest thing you had ever experienced. All lips, and teeth, and burning hunger. And, of course, James.

Because you could taste him. Right on Regulus’ tongue.

You moved before you could even formulate a coherent thought.

A symphony of delighted sounds bounced on the walls of that room you felt like you weren’t in anymore.

You were high. Higher than ever before as your hips started gaining a life of their own, swaying back and forth slowly, savoring the sublime friction of Regulus against your tender walls as he slid in and out, inch after delicious inch.

“Think you can help me a little, chérie ?” he panted on your lips; voice shattered glass.

And you understood. 

Even if you knew it wasn’t Regulus’ first time getting acquainted with a male anatomy that wasn’t his own, and, as eager as he seemed at the idea of deepthroating James until he choked on him, it was obvious he wasn’t quite sure on how to approach said scenario.

James was, for lack of better terms, fucking big.

It had taken you a bit of…practice too before you could take him all the way in and make it a pleasurable experience for both of you.

“Regulus-” your boyfriend started, voice disheveled, winded, yet coated with a gentle concern. A hidden hesitation.

“As I said-” Regulus promptly interrupted him, firm and unwavering –or as steady as he could manage with you on top of him– as his hand rested on James’ waist, lips ghosting over the crease of his hip “-I want to feel you down my throat. All of you. I want it”

A jolt of electricity lit up every nerve of your body.

Before you could even react to the absolutely ungodly words he had just spoken, Regulus dived in again, his mouth wrapping around James like he was ready to devour him whole.

Which, to his credit, he did try. And, unfortunately, failed if the gagging sound that ripped out of his throat was of any indication.

“Jesus Christ-” James’ hand flew to Regulus’ black locks, muscles tight and tense as a string of curses left his lips, the sudden contraction around him no doubt almost sending him over the edge in a matter of seconds “-trying to kill me ?”

A small, endeared smile flickered on your face as you took in Regulus’ mildly frustrated look, eyes watery from a kind of exertion he wasn’t used to but still burning with a blinding eagerness.

Bloody hell, you wanted to eat him up. 

“Easy there, pretty boy” you cooed, the shadow of a chuckle in your voice as your lips ghosted over the shell of his ear, hot and teasing.

As enthusiastic and determined as he seemed to be about having James so deep inside of him it hit the back of his throat, and as much as that excitement made your heart nearly jump out of your chest, he needed a little guidance.

The fact that you knew exactly how to make James crumble bit by bit was merely just a bonus.

“Start slow,” you coaxed, voice reaching him in a soft whisper “just like you did earlier”

Regulus followed suit, zero hesitation in his movements as he slowly lowered his head. The tip of James' cock traced the seam of his mouth, a stray drop of arousal making his lips shine beautifully under the lights before his tongue unconsciously darted out to wet them, brushing your boyfriend’s head as if by accident.

James’ nostrils flared, a sharp inhale disrupting his already uneven breathing.

Then, Regulus’ plump lips parted, and every fight left the Gryffindor at once, his eyes zeroing on that unholy mouth as it wrapped around him, surrounding him in its heat.

”Yes, just like that” you encouraged, your own voice breathless, broken by the image your eyes were being graced with. 

An image you wouldn't have easily forgotten. It would’ve hunted your dreams forever. And, goodness, if you weren’t more than just fine with it.

So fine, in fact, that your body decided it couldn’t stay still no longer in front of such a glorious sight.

You felt dizzy, intoxicated by the feeling of Regulus inside of you, by the look of raw pleasure on James’ beautiful features, by the nearly surreal situation you were in.

Your hips started swaying before you could even think. Gently, excruciatingly slow. A rhythm so tortuous anybody else would’ve thought it a punishment.

But you knew Regulus, the same way you knew James. Meaning, you knew exactly how to ruin him too.

The hold Regulus’ arm had on your waist tightened, pulling you closer to him, making your back arch and your hips rock forward by reflex.

Your broken whines filled the air with their melodic tune, mixing with deep grunts and strangled moans, as Regulus kept his descent on James surprisingly steady.

Such a stark contrast with the way his hips snapped up, meeting yours in their desperate dance of filth and lust.

“Deeper” you mewled, your brain fogged up. 

And he complied. He complied near damn perfectly, hips thrusting up and head sinking down in unison.

Just like the cries of pleasure pouring out of your and James’ mouth. A perfect symphony.

“Fuck- baby”

Who had cried that out, you weren’t even sure.

Had you been in your right mind you would’ve definitely recognized the shattered voice that uttered those words like a plea was too low, too husky to be yours. 

But you were so lost, so slowly losing your grasp on reality as a wave of pleasure overtook you, that it didn’t matter. 

Not that it would’ve mattered, anyway.

Your eyes almost rolled back in ecstasy as Regulus lodged himself so impossibly deep inside of you he took your breath away, your insides melting.

His mouth chased James’ length eagerly, welcoming it further, deeper. Until he couldn’t anymore, the sound of his throat contracting and refusing to let any more of the Gryffindor in filling the room.

“Shit- Slowly. Slow down. Breathe” 

Among the haziness taking over your brain, James’ strained, nearly shattered voice arrived at your ears crystal clear, making that last remaining thread of your sanity snap.

You couldn’t see, couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t Regulus’ cock pulsing and pistoning inside of you, your hips rolling and grinding, taking and taking until all you could think about was the chant of his name. An unholy prayer.

“Relax, baby. Hollow your cheeks for me” James’ gentle voice coaxed.

You had to use all your strength, every drop of willpower to get your brain to regain a little clarity, enough to witness the magnificent sight right before you.

And, bloody hell, if it was worth it.

James’ hand was resting on Regulus’ head, swiping through his curls soothingly, guiding him as his head bobbed up and down in an intoxicating rhythm, mouth stretched around him and nose brushing at the base as he took him all the way in. 

Regulus looked absolutely wrecked. Eyes glossy, hazy, a sheer veil of tears that refused to spill coated his scalding gaze while it locked with the hazel flames burning in James,’ following his every word.

“Fuck yeah- Just like that” your boyfriend moaned; head thrown back in complete rapture. So lost in pleasure that he didn’t quite register it when his hips snapped forward in a tentative, uncoordinated thrust.

You watched as a flash of sheer worry traveled through his eyes. The slightest hint of panic.

He stilled immediately, breath hitching, swallowing hard as his mouth parted.

Whatever he meant to say, though, would’ve remained a mystery.

Regulus’ hand flew to James’ hips, shutting him up promptly, his grip tight enough to leave indents under his touch, molding the sun-kissed skin with his imprints.

An obscenely wet sound filled the air as he pulled away from James, releasing him from the wet heat of his mouth.

Your stomach flipped on itself, your walls clenching around him as a jolt of electricity running through your whole body prompted you to rock forward in a move as involuntary as it was needed.

Because, despite the utter dishevelment on Regulus’ face, his eyes held a look that you would have recognized blindly. 

That hunger. That greed. 

“Come on, Potter-” he croaked, voice shattered into millions of tiny little pieces, a taunting smirk on those red, glistening lips “-fuck this mouth like you mean it”

He wanted more.

What a blessing, then, that James lived to give.

So that's exactly what he did.

He gave and gave and gave, thrusting into Regulus’ mouth like a madman chasing his release, feeding him his cock like he had not just asked, but demanded.

The relentless rhythm of James' hips almost sent Regulus stumbling back before the hand not busy guiding the devilish dance of your hips anchored itself on your boyfriend’s strong thigh. 

Lewd, downright pornographic sounds reached your ears as your hips sped up their dance of pleasure, rocking back and forth, using the little leverage you had on Regulus’ thighs and shoulders to ride him, bouncing up and down his cock again and again.

Sharp thrusts pushed James deeper and deeper down the younger’s throat, and he took everything the Gryffindor gave him like he was made for it. Like he craved it. 

A needy whine rumbled in Regulus’ throat, and James' knees damn nearly gave out from the undoubtedly exquisite vibration around his sensitive dick, prompting his movements to turn erratic.

And you could imagine it. No, scratch that. You could fucking hear it.

The wet, obscene sounds of James fucking into Regulus’ mouth like a man possessed, each thrust forcing out choked moans that could've put a pornstar to shame. You could hear how he bottomed out, burying himself to the hilt, stretching Regulus’ throat until there was nowhere left to go.

But fuck, you wanted to feel it.

Your hand found its way to Regulus’ throat, delicate fingers wrapping around his neck adorning it with the prettiest of collars. A slow, gentle squeeze sent a shudder through him, his pulse hammering beneath your palm, muscles flexing as he swallowed around James’ cock. Tight, desperate, taking him in as if he could never get enough. 

You pressed just a little harder, feeling every inch of your boyfriend’s thick length through the heat of Regulus’ throat, the way he clenched and stretched to accommodate him, savoring the weight, the taste, the sheer possession of it.

The sensation nearly undid you. Regulus’ flushed skin burned against your palm, your own hips falling into rhythm with James’ brutal pace, each thrust sending another wave of white-hot arousal through you.

You were on the edge, ready to freefall in that pit of bliss, to bring Regulus with you.

He was close. You could feel it. 

The way he trembled beneath you, the way the grip on your waist turned so tight you were flushed against him, your clit brushing his crotch with every grind of your hips, the way he pulsed and twitched inside of you.

He was right there, threatening to dissolve into pleasure.

James was too, the pitch of his voice turning the slightest bit higher in a mess of moans and half-babbled words as he chased his release like a drowning man chased oxygen. A telltale of his approaching orgasm.

And you knew he wanted it, reach his high and paint Regulus’ throat into the finest of masterpieces.

You, on the other hand, had something else in mind, Regulus’ earlier words echoing in your brain like a hypnotizing mantra.

“Don't let him come” you panted, breath hot and uneven against the Slytherin’s ear.

A broken protest left James’ mouth as Regulus did exactly as you told, lips red and swollen as he pulled away from James’ hard as steel cock.

“Torturing your own boyfriend, chérie ?” he rasped, latching onto your lips not even a second later like you were the air he needed to live. Hungry, desperate, and tasting so undoubtedly James.

The rhythm of your hips got faster and faster, ruthless, your vision slowly fading to black as waves of pleasure washed over you, setting your entire body ablaze.

“No-” you purred, your mouth curling in a blissful smirk, lust taking over all your senses, and annihilating each and every one of your filters “-I just want you to make a mess of me –both of you– until I’m wrecked, dripping, and so full of your cum that I can barely focus on any other thought that’s not your cocks fucking every single grain of sanity out of me”

Muscles tense beneath your touch, alabaster skin slick with sweat and steam rising with goosebumps. 

A deliberate roll of your hips unraveled Regulus completely, his body shuddering beneath you as he spilled over the edge.

Your back arched in bliss, white noise buzzing in your ears as pleasure consumed you. Heat flooded your core, his release marking you once more, just as he had countless times before. 

You drank in every broken moan, tasting them on your tongue as they tangled with your own.

The rhythm of your movements softened, slowing into something languid, drawing out every last pulse of his pleasure. Until it halted completely.

Heavy breaths filled the air, chests rising and falling rhythmically as you and Regulus slowly came down from your high. 

The buzzing noise humming in your ears faded bit by bit, letting you regain a little clarity of your surroundings once again. Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t silence you were met with, but a melody of debauched, open-mouthed moans.

That sinful sound pulled you back in, each desperate, wrecked moan making your already overstimulated body twitch in response. 

With your mind still fogged by pleasure, you turned your head just enough to catch the sight of James. 

His chest heaving, his cock flushed an angry red and aching, still glistening from Regulus’ mouth, his fingers tight around it as he stroked himself.

“Merlin-” he rasped, his voice wrecked, his hips jerking into his hand as his thumb swept over the leaking tip “You both are trying to kill me”

You barely heard him over the sound of slick skin, of his rough breaths catching in his throat. 

Your gaze dropped to the way his fingers tightened, to the desperate flex of his wrist, to how fucking needy he was, fucking into his own palm while he stared at you like he was starving.

You had seen James needy before, seen him desperate, begging even, but not like this. Never like this.

It felt like pure gasoline poured on a fire still burning bright and strong.

And from the way Regulus’ fingers dug into your waist, from the sharp inhale against the back of your neck, you knew he felt it too.

“Fuck-” Regulus exhaled as he leaned in close to your ear. Rough, uneven, still catching his breath “-look at him”

And look you did. Because James with his jaw clenched, his breath ragged, his cock twitching in his grip as he slowly dragged his fist over the length, teasing himself, like he was trying to make it last, like he wanted to savor how utterly ruined you and Regulus looked, looked like an absolute mess.

The hottest, most delectable, and unbelievably gorgeous mess you had ever seen.

You smirked, barely recovered from your own high, but still craving more. Still craving him.

Still craving everything.

You clenched around Regulus, your breath stuttering. A slow, aching pulse thrummed low in your stomach, as your body took full control.

“Like what you see, Reggie ?” you whimpered, the thick veil of tease not enough to conceal the wreckage in your voice. 

Regulus groaned softly beneath you, his cock swelling against your sensitive walls once again, slowly, reacting to that masterpiece of a scene in front of you.

“I do-” his lips brushed your shoulders, his tongue tracing a sultry path up to your neck, his breath caressing the shell of your ear sending another sharp pulse of heat through you “-and I think he does, too”

You knew he did. You could see it. 

The way James’ fist tightened around himself, the way his hips rocked back and forth like he wanted nothing more than to shove you onto your back and bury himself inside you.

And there was nothing you wanted more.

A smirk curled at your lips, despite the way heat sparked in your belly. 

“Should we give him the full show ?”

Then you moved.

Slowly. Deliberately.

You lifted yourself up just enough to make Regulus exhale sharply, feeling every inch of him drag against your walls as you adjusted, turning, shifting, taking your time as you swung one leg over and settled back down onto him, your back molding against his chest, thighs spread wide over his, now facing James.

Now giving him the perfect view.

Your boyfriend’s strokes faltered, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes glued to the sight in front of him.

Your parted lips. Your heaving chest. The way your thighs trembled over Regulus.’ But most of all, the place where you were still stretched full, where slickness dripped down onto Regulus’ lap, where you were spread wide and open for James to see.

“Holy fuck-” Regulus groaned breathlessly behind you, his chest rising and falling hard against your back. His fingers dug into your thighs, a slow, disbelieving exhale brushing your shoulder.

You hummed, tilting your head, feigning innocence as you rocked your hips once. Just enough to feel Regulus shift inside you, just enough to tear a ragged gasp from his throat. 

Just enough to let James see exactly how full you were.

A choked-off curse left your boyfriend’s lips, his fingers twitching against his cock, his hips jerking like he couldn’t help himself, like he would’ve crumbled to pieces if he didn’t get a taste of your skin.

His jaw was slack, his hazel eyes glued to the sight of your body spread open for him, the way Regulus gripped your thighs for dear life, giving James everything as his hips bucked up, just enough to grant him some sweet relief.

James’ rhythm faltered, now uncoordinated and on the verge of desperation, caught between the overwhelming urge to keep touching himself and the way he physically couldn’t look away.

“I-” his voiced cracked “I can’t- I don’t-”

“Tell me what you want, Jamie” you coaxed, voice honey-sweet despite the need threatening to consume you whole “Tell me what you need”

“You-” your boyfriend finally rasped, voice broken, pleading “I fucking need you”

Your stomach flipped, heat licking at your spine at the way James looked at you like he was a breath away from falling apart. Like he would’ve begged to have you.

“Yeah ?” you breathed, a hazy grin settling on your lips, thighs parting slightly wider, a silent invitation “Come and take me, then”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

“Fucking hell-” he growled, tearing his hand away from himself so fast you barely had time to react before he was on you, gripping, pressing, his slick palm sliding over your thigh as he shoved his way between your legs.

“You dangerous, dangerous woman” he muttered, his voice wrecked as his lips crashed against yours, messy and desperate. His cock was hot and heavy against your stomach, smearing precum against your skin as he rutted against you like he couldn’t help himself “You-” his fingers traced over your soaked skin, teasing, testing “-are going to destroy me, you know ?”

“Like you wouldn’t let me” you murmured, tongue brushing against his, tasting him, fingers clawing at his back, feeling the heated skin under your touch.

James groaned, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, his breath shuddering as he throbbed against you.

“I would- I- so fucking would-” he whispered on your mouth, a sharp breath punched from his lungs like he was barely holding himself together. His grip tightened, his body shaking “-I’m at your mercy, remember ? I’m yours. Yours to ruin, yours to wreck, yours to break. I’m yours. You could tear my heart out of my ribcage and stomp on it, and I’d still bleed for you, Y/n”

Heat ignited into every cell of your body.

Because you knew it. Those weren’t just words. James would’ve gladly surrendered to you, laid himself open and raw before you if it meant making you happy, if it meant seeing just the shadow of a smile on your face.

You felt Regulus’ breath hitch behind you. His body suddenly tense.

You could hear it in the way he exhaled sharply, feel it in the way his fingers dug into your thighs like he needed something to hold onto. 

James’ confession had affected him.

You felt him move before you saw it, the way his hand ghosted up James’ arm, up his shoulder. Fingertips tracing, lingering on glistening, taut muscles.

And then --Regulus looked at him, his gaze locked to pleading, begging hazel pools of warmth.

“Reg-”

“Shh-” Regulus whispered, tilting his head, brushing his lips against James’ jaw.

A tease. A question etched in his eyes. Silent, searing.

James broke.

His hands left your skin for only a second, just long enough to grip Regulus by the back of the neck and drag him in.

His answer.

The kiss was hungry.

Not careful, not measured. Just a desperate clash of lips and teeth and tongue, of gasping breaths and ragged moans as James lost himself in it.

Regulus groaned, his fingers tightening in James’ hair, tugging, tilting his chin just enough to take more, enough to brand his taste on his tongue too.

"Fuck-" the Slytherin rasped, his hand on James’s jaw, his thumb swiping over his cheek, bringing him impossibly closer “-does this mean you’re mine too, now ?”

James whimpered into Regulus’ mouth, his body thrumming with heat, with need, his cock pressing hot and heavy against your stomach, slick and aching and-

“I can be”

Regulus’ fingers tightened around him, his breath shuddering as something unreadable, something dangerous, flickered across his face. His thumb traced absently over the curve of James’ shoulder, the touch almost reverent, almost claiming.

James’ breath hitched.

'I can be'

The words still lingered in the air, thick with promise. With surrender.

Your heart stuttered.

Because you knew what that was.

James wasn’t just surrendering to you.

He was surrendering to both of you. You and Regulus.

“God-" you exhaled, thighs instinctively spreading wider, your nails digging into James’ back, into Regulus’ wrist.

Regulus exhaled sharply, his grip flexing where his hand still pressed against James’ back, his body rigid beneath you. You could feel him, still thick and hot inside you, still stretched wide around him, still sensitive from how he had already ruined you once.

And yet, you wanted more.

Regulus must have felt it too, the way your walls clenched around him at just the thought, because his breath hitched, his fingers twitching against James’ skin, his pupils blown as he flicked his gaze down.

James followed his stare, down to where you were still spread open, still taking Regulus, still dripping around him.

"Fuck-" he gritted out, voice strangled "I can’t-"

"Then don’t," you whispered, arching into him, your lips curling slightly, reassuringly "Take what you need, Jamie."

James shuddered.

His hands grasped at your thighs, your hips, gripping, lifting. Your body arching between them, your breath shattering as you felt James press against you, his cock hard and leaking, teasing at your entrance where Regulus already stretched you.

Your whole body shook.

"F-fuck–" you gasped, fingers digging into James' shoulders, into Regulus’ chest beneath you, overwhelmed by the sheer filth of it, of them, of this.

James groaned, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, his body trembling as his hips stuttered, teasing, testing, like he could barely believe this was real. Like he was afraid if he moved too fast, it would all shatter.

Regulus smirked beneath you, low and wrecked, his hands smoothing over your waist before trailing down, down, teasing over where you were slick and spread and waiting for James to take you.

"Come on, James" Regulus murmured, his voice sinful, his fingers ghosting over James’ cock, guiding, lining him up. "Don’t you want to fill her up like she asked ?"

James growled. And then he thrust, sinking into you in one deep, desperate movement.

The stretch was blinding.

A choked moan tore from your throat, your fingers clutching, clawing at James as he sank into you, slow but deep, your body struggling to take him, to take both of them.

James let out a wrecked sound, his entire body trembling as he buried himself to the hilt, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath hot and ragged.

"Fuck- fuck, oh my God- I can feel him," he gasped, his voice cracking, his hands tightening on your waist like he was barely holding himself together.

Regulus groaned beneath you, his fingers flexing where they gripped your thighs, his head tipping back as his hips jerked, just enough to make you whimper. 

"You feel fucking unreal-" James rasped, his lips brushing against yours, his body shuddering, his eyes fluttering shut like he was dizzy with it “-you're so, shit- you're soaked, baby”

“Please- fuck-” you gasped, voice breaking as another sharp wave of pleasure rolled through you. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but feel. Feel them working you open, pushing and pulling, stretching you to the point of delirium.

Regulus exhaled harshly, his grip shifting, one hand sliding up your waist, his fingers pressing into your ribs.

“Good girl-” he mused, his voice strained, his control slipping further with each thrust, his cock throbbing inside you, his breath coming in uneven gasps “-taking us so fucking well”

There was no escape from the sensation, no reprieve from the slow, devastating rhythm of them taking you closer and closer to heaven.

Your own body betrayed you, hips rolling instinctively, chasing every ounce of friction they gave you. Heat coiled deep in your stomach, thighs trembling, pleasure licking up your spine like fire. It was too much. Too much and not enough, your senses overloaded as the pleasure built, scalding and unbearable.

The way you clenched around them sent James spiraling, his body jerking against you. 

“Fuck- fuck- fuck-” he swore, voice cracking, his hips stuttering as his control slipped. “Shit, baby- I’m- fuck-, I can’t-” 

His breath hitched, his fingers digging into your hips as he slammed into you one last time, his body locking up as he came, deep and hot, a wrecked groan spilling from his lips.

Regulus cursed beneath you, a sharp, desperate sound, his hands tightening bruisingly on your waist. Your body spasmed between them, their heat pushing you over the edge, pleasure crashing through you in blinding waves.

You were shattering, piece by piece. Every nerve burning, every thrust driving you further into ruin, making your head spin, your thoughts blank, nonexistent, words a babbling mess of incoherent whimpers and mewls.

"Fucking hell-" Regulus’s voice was strained, hoarse, his rhythm breaking as he chased the high, your body milking him for everything he had. His grip faltered, his breath coming in sharp gasps before he finally gave in, hips snapping up as he spilled inside you, a low, drawn-out groan slipping from his lips.

James was still trembling against you, his forehead pressed to your shoulder, chest rising and falling rapidly. 

Regulus lay back beneath you, utterly spent, his fingers twitching against your skin, his own breath ragged and uneven.

For a moment, none of you moved, the only sound in the room the slow, unsteady rhythm of your breathing.

James let out a weak, breathless laugh, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder “Holy fuck”

A sharp, satisfied hum rumbled from Regulus’s chest, his hands lazily tracing over your waist, like he wasn’t quite ready to let go yet. You felt the lazy glide of James’s fingers along your thigh, his breath still hot against your shoulder as he murmured “Look at you. You’re so fucking full, baby”

The words sent a shiver through you, your body still aching, still sensitive as you felt the heat of them spilling from you, slick and warm, already dripping between your thighs.

“Such a beautiful mess” Regulus breathed, his lips caressing the shell of your ear, his fingers tightening for a moment before he shifted beneath you, pulling out slowly, a strangled moan echoing in his throat.

James groaned, his lips brushing against your jaw as he eased himself back, sliding out of you with a hiss. He trailed his fingers down your thigh, teasing along the mess between your legs, swiping at the slick wetness before bringing them to his lips. His tongue flicked out, tasting, and his eyes fluttered shut. 

“Shit-” the Slytherin murmured, head tilting up slightly, meeting your boyfriend’s hazy eyes, voice thick with something dark, something indulgent “-that’s filthy, Potter”

James’ lips curled into a lazy smirk, fingers still glistening as he slowly brought them to Regulus’ mouth, brushing the plump flesh, teasing, taunting as he smeared the intoxicating mix of your arousals on his lips, making them shine, glisten under the warm light of the setting sun.

“What was it again ?” your boyfriend’s voice dropped low, almost challenging, sending a shiver down your spine “You wanted to taste me on Y/n’s dripping cunt ?”

Regulus breathed, letting out a low chuckle, his eyes dark, dangerous. But you could feel the tension in his body, the way his hands flexed against your hips. 

Your breath hitched, your body still trembling from the aftershocks as, without a warning, Regulus parted his lips, engulfing James’ digits into the warmth of his mouth.

James sucked in a sharp breath as Regulus’s tongue curled around them, dragging slowly and deliberate over the length, tasting himself, tasting James, tasting all of you. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, a quiet, satisfied sound slipping from him.

The Gryffindor's breath hitched, his pupils dilating as he watched, utterly transfixed.

Regulus pulled back with a soft ‘pop’, his tongue flicking out to catch a stray drop at the corner of his mouth. His lips curved slightly, knowing, teasing.

“What ?” he murmured, tilting his head, his voice like silk, smooth and unshaken “Wouldn’t want to waste a drop, would we ?”

James let out a ragged chuckle, his fingers tracing along Regulus’s jaw before he tugged him closer, pressing their lips together in a slow, deep kiss, sharing the taste between them.

You whimpered softly, body shuddering at the sight, at the way their tongues tangled, at the way they both moaned into it. 

Your head spun, heat pooling low in your stomach despite the exhaustion humming in your bones.

Regulus pulled away first, his lips glistening, his eyes dark and knowing as they met yours, your head laying on his shoulder as you basked in utter bliss. He let his fingers ghost down your legs, your waist, your breasts, lips kissing your cheek tenderly, almost reverentially before he moved, shifting carefully, slipping away from behind you and guiding you onto the bench, laying you out before them.

A meal on a silver platter.

Your back hit the cool wood, sending a sharp contrast through the heat still simmering in your veins. 

Goosebumps raised all over your body.

In a heartbeat, Regulus was in front of you, chest to chest with James as he looked at him like he wanted to devour him. 

“Fuck-” James breathed, his voice rough, wrecked, completely entranced.

Regulus’s smirk deepened slightly, pleased, his fingers ghosting over James’s shoulders and then-

“Sit”

And James ? James obeyed without batting an eye, sitting in between your legs, the mess of your clothes on the floor shielding his naked, heated skin from the cold hardwood.

Regulus sank down, deliberate, slow, crawling up until he was straddling James’s lap, pressing their bodies flush together, long fingers tracing his chest as he adjusted himself.

You swore you felt your heart stuttered, a sharp pulse of arousal licking through you at the sight.

James sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers twitching, his head tilting back slightly to meet Regulus’s gaze. His hands instinctively slid down, gripping Regulus’s hips, holding him there like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to push him closer or pull him away before he lost his mind entirely.

Regulus leaned in, close enough that their noses brushed, his breath warm against James’s lips. 

“Don’t lose yourself yet-” he murmured, teasing, his fingers trailing up to James’s jaw. “-we still have a mess to clean up.”

James exhaled shakily, his grip tightening, his head spinning. He was completely gone, completely undone.

He let out a quiet groan, eyes fluttering shut for a second before he forced them open again, dragging his gaze back to you. 

You were still sprawled out on the bench, watching them, lips parted, eyes wide with heat and anticipation.

Regulus turned his attention back to you as well, tilting his head slightly. His fingers trailed down James’s wrist, guiding one of his hands between your legs.

James shuddered as he obeyed, dragging his fingers through the slick mess of them still dripping from you. He brought his fingers up, watching as Regulus smirked, catching his wrist and pulling it toward him.

Without breaking eye contact, Regulus parted his lips and took James’s fingers into his mouth. Again.

James cursed, his entire body tensing, his cock twitching beneath Regulus despite how spent he was. The wet heat of Regulus’s mouth around his fingers, the slow drag of his tongue, the way he sucked every drop from them. It was fucking intoxicating.

When Regulus finally pulled off, his tongue flicking over his lower lip, he huffed a quiet chuckle 

“I think you like this a bit too much, Potter” he murmured, amusement lacing his voice.

James let out a shaky breath, a slow, crooked smirk tugging at his lips “No such thing” he rasped.

Regulus chuckled softly before leaning back slightly, adjusting himself on James’ lap as they both settled between your legs.

James looked mesmerized. By Regulus, by you, by all of it. By the heat still simmering in Regulus’s gaze, by the way he looked so completely at ease straddling him, by the way his weight felt against him.

Regulus hummed softly, trailing a finger along your thigh before flicking his gaze toward James. “Are you just going to stare?” he murmured, teasing “Don’t you want a proper taste ?”

James let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head slightly, his hands flexing on Regulus’s waist. “You’re going to be the death of me. Both of you”

Regulus smirked, leaning in until their lips were nearly touching. 

“Not yet” he murmured.

And then, together, they turned their attention back to you.

“Lay back, love” Regulus whispered, his fingers trailing up your thigh, his touch featherlight but searing “Let us clean you up”

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up, your legs spreading even wider, making space for them, giving them the full view of your dripping cunt, of the mess they had made.

The first slow stroke of their tongues sent a sharp tremor through your body, your breath catching in your throat, your fingers twisting into the bench beneath you.

Regulus was slow, teasing, drawing soft noises from you with every lazy flick of his tongue, while James was deliberate, relentless, his hands gripping Regulus’s hips as he buried himself in the taste of you. 

Their mouths brushed against each other as they moved, tongues sliding together against you as they both worked to devour you completely.

“Ah- ah- Oh my, fuck-” obscene moans rippled from your mouth as your hands flew to their hair, pulling, bringing them closer, seeking the heavenly feeling of their mouths on you.

James groaned into you, completely drowning in it, his grip tightening on Regulus like he needed something to keep himself tethered, his hands sliding lower, cupping Regulus’ ass as he pulled him closer, their cocks trapped between their rocking bodies. 

Regulus hummed in satisfaction, grinding down, tilting his head just enough for their tongues to brush against each other, slick and hungry, savoring you together.

 They licked and kissed and tasted you until you were shaking, until you were barely coherent, until all you could do was feel.

A broken sob ripped from your throat, pleasure tearing through you in an unstoppable wave, your entire body seizing beneath them, breaking, completely at their mercy.

They didn’t stop, didn’t pull away until they had taken everything from you, until you were spent, trembling, wrecked beyond recognition.

When Regulus finally sat back, his lips were swollen, his chin glistening, his body still firmly settled on James’s lap. 

James just stared at him, completely dazed, completely entranced, completely gone. Just like you.

Regulus licked his lips, smirking slightly. 

“You’re surprisingly sweet, Potter” he murmured, a glint of mischief sparkling in his lidded eyes.

James let out a breathless, wrecked chuckle, shaking his head.

“You really are something” a deep, satisfied sigh rumbled from his chest as he slumped back, his head lolling against your thigh. His grip on Regulus’s hips loosened, one hand tracing lazy, absentminded circles against his skin, the other slowly caressing your leg, fingers dancing on your calf.

Regulus made a soft, amused sound, but he didn’t move right away either. He just sat there, still straddling James, his back rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. One of his hands trailed over James’s chest, featherlight, and the other reached for you.

His fingertips grazed your thigh, slow, delicate, before he let his palm settle there, warm and grounding.

For a long moment, the three of you just breathed.

Your body felt boneless, floating. Completely wrecked, completely spent, your limbs weak as you melted into the bench beneath you.

Then, James huffed out a quiet, breathless laugh. 

“Fuck-” His voice was wrecked, hoarse, like he had forgotten how to speak properly.

You let out a small, exhausted chuckle in response, turning your head toward them. Your muscles ached in the best way, your skin still humming with the remnants of their touch. 

“Yeah-” you murmured, voice thick with exhaustion “-that about sums it up.”

James cracked a lazy grin, his fingers tightening slightly on Regulus’s waist “Give me a second, and I swear I’ll be able to think straight again”

Regulus hummed, his lips curving faintly as he leaned down slightly, his nose brushing against James’s jaw. 

“Have you ever had that kind of ability ?” he murmured, voice rich with amusement and that trademark sarcasm.

James huffed, shaking his head, but he didn’t argue.

Instead, he turned his head slightly, looking at you. 

His expression softened, something warm flickering in his eyes as they raked over you, your blissed-out expression, the glow on your skin, the way your chest still rose and fell in uneven breaths.

“You alright, baby ?” he asked softly, eyes glossy and warm, so warm as he left small, soothing kisses on the sensitive skin of your thigh.

Your heart swelled in your chest.

“Mmh,” you let out a soft hum, fingers brushing through his hair reassuringly “More than alright”

And it was true, you were more than just ‘alright.’ You were on cloud nine, cloud fucking ten, if it was possible. 

That had happened. And this time it wasn’t just a fantasy, it wasn’t just a product of your fervid imagination, no.

They were there, James and Regulus, in flesh and blood. 

And you were full of them.

Regulus shifted, still half sprawled on James’ lap, his fingers tracing light patterns on your stomach, featherlight and absentminded, like he was soothing you without even realizing it.

You could feel his gaze on you. Heavy, warm, lingering. 

You shivered, your eyes flicking up to his as he watched you with something too knowing in that sea of molten silver. 

Curiosity. Interest. 

“Come on” a tired chuckle rolled off your lips “Ask me. I know you want to”

He didn’t say anything. Just looked at you with that calculating gleam that told you more than words could, his fingers still trailing over your skin.

A half-smirk curled at his lips.

“How long ?” he asked then, voice low, smooth as silk.

James, still catching his breath, shifted slightly. 

“Mmh ?” he let out a tired, confused hum, his head still blissfully propped on your thigh “How long what ?”

But you weren’t looking at James.

Your eyes were locked on Regulus, and his searching gaze.

“You planned this-” he murmured, ignoring your boyfriend entirely, his voice laced with amusement “-so I want to know-” his head tilted “how long have you been waiting for this exact moment?”

“Long enough” you admitted finally, your hand taking Regulus’ and holding it, playing with his slender absentmindedly “Ever since I caught you two eye-fucking each other in the Great Hall like the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables didn’t exist”

Regulus let out a quiet, sharp breath through his nose, like he'd been caught in a checkmate he hadn’t even realized he was playing. But the corner of his mouth curled up, eyes glinting with something darkly entertained.

James’ eyebrows scrunched; confusion etched all over his face.

“So that’s why-” Regulus continued “-why you seemed so confident when you suggested this. Why you didn’t hesitate. Why you knew I’d say yes.”

“I didn’t” you admitted, lips twitching. 

And it was the truth. You couldn’t have known for sure. It was a total leap of faith, a jump in the darkness of your own fantasies, though you could see the faintest flicker of light sparkling at the end of the tunnel, the heat of their gazes as fire met ice.

Regulus arched an eyebrow.

The ghost of a smirk hunted your lips “Let’s just say I had a hunch”

“So, you messed with the Slytherin showers” Regulus stated, bemused. He was not asking. He already knew. 

“Oh, no. I didn’t even touch the showers” you answered, almost innocently, a coy grin slowly blooming on your lips “Barty did it for me”

Silence.

Then-

“I’m sorry, what ?!”

James sat up so fast you almost laughed, his entire body snapping upright as if someone had just hexed him. 

He looked between you and Regulus, his mouth parting slightly, like he had just connected the dots, put together the pieces of a puzzle that still hadn’t revealed its full design to him. 

“You-” He blinked rapidly, his gaze flickering to you like your words had just registered in his brain “-you what ?”

Regulus chuckled, shaking his head, the corners of his lips tilting up with something close to admiration.

”Y/n here has been playing chess while we’ve been playing Quidditch, Potter” he said smoothly, watching as realization wrecked James with the force of a Bludger to the chest as his hand traced patterns on his thigh “She planned this”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you as James gawked at you, his lips parting, then closing, then parting again.

It was like watching a short-circuited broom struggle to regain balance.

His fingers curled, uncurled.

“She-” James gaped, eyes widening almost cartoonishly, eyebrows fusing with his hairline “-What ?!”

“She planned this” Regulus repeated, his expression nothing short of entertained as he watched James’ entire worldview slowly implode “Your sweet little girlfriend set us up, James”

For a moment, just a single moment, he didn’t say anything.

You grinned.

"You said it yourself, didn’t you ?" you whispered lowly, a hint of amusement laced in your tone as you pushed yourself off the bench, finally slipping down to the floor between them, your back pressing against James’ chest as you stretched your legs over Regulus’ “Hogwarts showers can’t just break”

James inhaled sharply, simply sitting there, goggling at you absolutely floored. The gears in his brain turned and twisted, almost letting smoke out of his ears as you watched the realization hit him fully in the chest.

“Fucking hell-” he gasped, letting out the most flabbergasted laugh you had ever heard, turning his full frantic attention to you “-you did plan this !”

Regulus let out a quiet chuckle, his hands still skimming over your thighs.

"You really had no idea ?" he deadpanned, despite his lips curling into a grin.

James whipped to face him so fast you thought he might give himself whiplash.

"I-" he gestured wildly, looking between you and Regulus like he had just stumbled into some grand, ancient conspiracy. "What? No! How- when-" he huffed a breathless laugh, running a hand through his already thoroughly ruined hair. "I knew you were smart, but this is- you're-" his voice wavered somewhere between awe and sheer disbelief “Baby, you’re a bloody mastermind”

Your head tipped back against his shoulder, a laugh you couldn’t stop vibrating in your chest at your boyfriend’s utterly transfixed expression, like a kid seeing cotton candy for the first time.

“I wouldn’t go that far” you sighed fondly, cupping James’ face between both hands and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. 

The moment your mouth met his, he melted. His hands, still gripping your waist, pulled you tighter against him, fingers pressing into your skin like he needed the contact to ground himself. His lips parted under yours, his breath warm and uneven as he kissed you back slow and deep, as if he was trying to memorize the shape of your mouth. The bafflement from earlier dissolved, forgotten, swallowed by the warmth of your lips and the press of your body against his.

“You don’t seem too mad,” you murmured sweetly, a playful lilt in your voice as your fingers absently toyed with a stray lock of his hair.

James exhaled sharply, his hands tightening their grip on you, like he had to physically hold onto something to keep from floating away.

“Mad ?” he repeated, sounding almost delirious. He blinked rapidly, as if still trying to process the past hour of his life. “I mean-” he let out a breathless, wrecked little laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t know if being scared and beyond turned on is entirely normal, but mad ? Hell no”

“Scared and horny ?” you chuckled, tracing light patterns over his collarbone with your fingertips “That’s ok. I can work with that”

“Of course, you can” Regulus murmured, his voice smooth as silk as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against the side of your face. His lips brushed featherlight against your temple before moving down, leaving a slow, almost lazy kiss beneath your jaw.

You sighed, your body melting further into James behind you, your fingers reaching for Regulus’ wrist, pulling him in just a little more.

You could feel your boyfriend’s gaze on you, the way his fingers traced your sides, your arms, your hair. Like he couldn't believe the last hour of his life had been reality and not a dream, like it had been just a fever dream.

“You look like you’re having a bit of a crisis” Regulus mused, voice smooth, teasing as his lips moved from your skin to James’ “Need a moment?”

James let out a breathless, incredulous laugh, still trying to wrap his head around it all.

“I- Yes? Maybe?” his hands trailed over Regulus’ body, hazel eyes focused on his sinuous figure as he crawled to you, to him “Shit- I don’t know, my brain isn’t working properly right now”

Regulus hummed, smirking slightly “Is that supposed to be news ?”

James shot him a half-hearted glare, still dazed, still drunk on the feeling of your body on his, of Regulus’ lips ghosting over his pulse “I’ll have you know I have a perfectly functioning brain…most times”

“Sure you do” Regulus drawled, but there was a glint of playfulness in his stormy eyes, amusement as his lips traveled up, dragging slow, open-mouthed kisses along James’ throat. James let out a sharp breath, hands tightening on Regulus' waist, body tensing beneath him like he was barely keeping himself together.

You could feel the way James’ heart stuttered in his chest when Regulus hovered, lips just barely grazing his jaw, his breath warm against his skin. 

And then, finally, he closed the space between them.

The kiss was deliberate, slow, intoxicating, an exhale of heat between them. James sighed into it, one hand threading into Regulus’ hair, tugging him closer like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

You watched, mesmerized, warmth blooming deep in your chest, pooling lower when James tilted his head slightly, parting his lips just enough to let Regulus deepen the kiss, their tongues brushing, slow and teasing.

Regulus made a pleased sound against his mouth, swallowing James’ quiet groan, like he could drink him in.

It was unfair, really, how good they looked like this, how easy they made it seem. Like they had always belonged in this moment.

Your lips parted slightly, breath caught in your throat, the ache of need spreading like fire beneath your skin.

Regulus must have noticed, because he pulled back just enough to glance at you, his silver eyes heavy-lidded, dark with amusement and something deeper.

“Do it, chérie” His voice was low, knowing, showcasing his ability to read your mind with just a simple glance “I know you want to”

“Shit-” James blinked, dazed, like he had just remembered you were there. “Sorry, love, I got a little-”

You huffed a soft laugh, shaking your head, before you reached out, fingers curling at the back of Regulus’ neck, tugging him toward you.

His breath hitched slightly, but he let you pull him in, his lips slotting over yours effortlessly.

It was warm, dizzying, the slow drag of his mouth, the way he sighed into the kiss like he had been waiting for it.

Then James' hands were on your waist, sliding up, tilting your face slightly toward him, his lips ghosting over your jaw, your cheek, before finally capturing your mouth in a kiss of his own, deeper this time, desperate and sweet all at once.

Regulus hummed against you, amused, pleased, as he leaned back in, his lips brushing against both of yours, soft, fleeting, before deepening again, the three of you tangled in warmth, in breathless, hazy want.

You felt utterly consumed. By the weight of James’ hands, the heat of Regulus’ mouth, the way they both fit against you so perfectly, like this was always meant to happen.

By the time you finally broke apart, all of you were flushed, breathless, lips tingling from the sheer intensity of it.

James let out a stunned, wrecked sort of laugh, his head falling back against the bench “Okay. Yeah. That was- that was definitely new”

“I’d say you handled it well enough, Potter” Regulus smirked, dragging his fingers down James’ arm, his other hand skimming over your body.

“Barely” James scoffed, half-amused, half-dazed.

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to James’ jaw before shifting toward Regulus, lips brushing over his one last time, basking in the warmth, in pure bliss.

“We should do that again” you offer, batting your eyelashes in the fakest attempt at innocence.

James scoffed softly, a hint of disbelief shining through. 

“You’re a menace” he murmured, though the way his arms curled tighter around you, the way his lips brushed your shoulder between words, made it clear he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Regulus hummed in agreement, his lips curving faintly against your skin. 

“An insatiable menace” he corrected, but there was something undeniably fond in his tone.

“And yet-” you murmured, a playful smirk tugging at your lips “-I don’t see either of you complaining” 

“Complaining ? Are you kidding ?” James let out a breathless laugh, tipping his head back against the bench with a dazed grin “This is the best day of my fucking life”

Regulus scoffed, but the small smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. "Salazar, you’re ridiculous," he muttered, shaking his head. 

Then, softer, he let his fingers trace lazy circles on your hip, his gaze trailing on your pleased smile "But I suppose you’re not wrong”

“Damn right I’m not” James beamed, pressing a kiss to your temple before reaching for Regulus, pulling him in with a smirk. 

You hummed, utterly content, stretching like a cat between them as their hands instinctively roamed over you, absentminded, reverent, like they never wanted to stop touching you. 

A satisfied sigh escaped your lips, your fingers brushing against James’ jaw, then gliding down Regulus’ arm.

A reminder that they were there, they were real, and you were full of them.

In more ways than one.

Hello my beautiful people 💗

It's been quite a while, isn't it ? I hope you're all doing good and that life is treating you kindly.

To make up for my absence I made sure to make this extra long, and extra filthy because I felt EXTRA guilty.

I hope you enjoy this, and thank you again for waiting literal MONTHS for this.

I hope it's worth it 💖

Thank you again for reading my work, and I'll see you in the next one <3

[juleswritesstuff]

heyy!

i dont want to sound petulant or anything but i keep thinking about what could have happened in the second part of that jegulus x reader oneshot!

Hey to you 💗

Oh my God, I am so sorry for seeing this and answering this so late, please forgive me.

First of all, I wanted to apologize for my extended absence and for keeping you waiting for MONTHS (I swear, just saying that makes me want to physically throw myself under a bus). I am SO sorry you had to wait so long, and I genuinely feel terrible for leaving you hanging like this.

Life happened, and then exams happened and all my will to live decided to literally evaporate into thin air, and, with that, my ability to write anything remotely close to decent.

BUT- I am happy announce that part 2 is finally ready! It will be up either tomorrow or on Wednesday max, because I still need to revise it. But I can assure you it will be there. No more delays, I promise. I kept you waiting enough as it is.

I'd like to apologize once again for literally disappearing on you, I am beyond mortified. I will try my best not to let something like this happen again.

Thank you for your patience and thank you for waiting for me.

I hope my little creation will be worth the wait ❤

[juleswritesstuff]

Your most recent Regulus Black smut fic.

That shit but was amazing

OMG idk what to say because I'm at a loss for words

The way it was written and I usually HATE smut fics for him but you did that RIGHT

10/10 I'm reading all of your fics now 🙏🏻🙏🏻

I'm so grateful for that, thank you 💗 💗

It's kind of tricky for me finding good ideas for smut fics with Regulus, because I feel like the majority of the plots I come up with don't really fit him, or, to say it better, the characterisation I have of him. But I felt like that one would've actually suited him pretty well, so I'm super happy you enjoyed it ❤

[juleswritesstuff]

'Cause I’m a taker, 'cause I’m a giver

or

Would our beloved marauders and skittles prefer to be on the giving or the receiving end during oral ? 

warnings: smut

James would be a giver through and through, one hundred percent, no questions asked.

He’d be the type of man that gets fully offended when he hears other guys refuse to go down on their girlfriends. He wouldn’t understand it, wouldn’t even start to comprehend how that could even be possible.

He’d live to please, to make sure you are spoiled, worshiped like you were more holy than human. Especially in the bedroom. Your body is a temple, and he’d be devoted to it, every single inch of it.

He’d use just his tongue to bring you to tears the first couple of rounds, nothing else. Not even his fingers.

He would start slowly, teasing, leaving feather-light kisses on the soft skin of your inner thighs, giving you the sweetest of tortures and creating a path that’d lead to the very object of his desires.

He’d pick up his pace as soon as a drop of your essence makes contact with the tip of his tongue. From then on, he’d be gone. He’d lick and suck and lap at your core like his life depended on it.

He'd delve his tongue in to feel you whole, feel your softness, your tightness, the way your sensitive and velvety walls would contract around the delicious intrusion, how wet you'd be by just the attention of his skilled mouth.

He'd take his sweet time with it, too, alternating between relentless flicks of his tongue and languid laps that make your legs shake in both need and impatience. He’d add his fingers then, slowly, one by one, stretching you out and brushing that sweet spot until he brings you so close to the edge that your vision blurs, your mind blanks, and you come undone with a cry of his name on your lips.

He'd dirty talk you through the whole thing, too. And when I say dirty, I mean absolutely filthy. 

It wouldn't matter if his mouth is already occupied with its mission to make you fall apart piece by piece; he'd let it run free and wild to add fuel to the fire already consuming every cell of your body.

Sirius would be both, in equal parts.

I feel like he wouldn't really have a preference. He'd love to please you as much as he'd love to be pleased. 

It would depend on the mood, on the vibe, and on who decides to make the first move.

If it's you, he'd let you take the reins, look at you with the lewdest bedroom eyes ever (this man has the most sensual ‘fuck me’ gaze, I just know that) as you sink to your knees, and he’d fully let you do whatever you wish to him. Slow strokes, fast rhythm, swallowing him whole, sucking his head leisurely, using your hands, using your mouth; it wouldn’t matter. You set the pace, make the rules, and he’d gladly take everything you offer him. Not without any complaints, though, especially when you’d have a little too much fun. He’d whine and grumble and grab the chair handles or the sheets so tight his knuckles would lose all their blood flow, but he’d never tell you to stop.

Because the truth is he’d love to be teased a little but would absolutely never admit it.  He wouldn't need to; you'd feel it right down your throat.

If it's him, you better buckle up because you'd be in for a ride.

He’d be a full-on menace, the biggest of teases.

He’d drag it out as much as he could without making you actually come, slowly but surely work you up with his tongue, his fingers, pumping them carefully, precisely, spreading your wetness all over your tender cunt just to dive in right after and eat you out like a madman until your eyes get watery, and it’s the fourth time he brings you so close to heaven, only to snatch it away from you when you’re just about to get through the gates of pleasure. 

And he’d do all of that with the sultriest smirk on his face.

Remus would be both, but with a little twist.

Because I feel like no matter the scenario, he'd be the one to have the upper hand.

It would be the softest, gentlest kind of dominance, but he'd still be the one leading, whether it's his head between your thighs or the other way around.

His words would be as sweet as honey, his voice a velvety whisper sending shivers throughout your whole body, the coaxing tone he'd use betrayed by his labored breathing, his filthy words, and his hands shaking as he'd resist every instinct his brain would scream at him to succumb to.

But he wouldn't listen to it; he'd keep politely telling you to relax your throat for him, hollow your cheeks a bit more, stroke him faster, swallow around him.

He wouldn't straight-up order you around; that's not the kind of ‘control’ he would be into, in my opinion. He'd be firm, sure -or as firm as he'd manage to be with your mouth or hands on him- but his tone would be laced with a sensuality, a sultriness that would turn his words more into enticing suggestions.

And you'd listen to him so well, of course.

So much so that you would deserve a reward for it, wouldn't you ?

He'd gladly give it to you, gently nudging your legs open, kneading the supple flesh of your thighs with his big hands as he approaches your heat slowly, kissing and worshiping every inch of skin under his lips except for where you’d need him the most, where you’d be dripping for him.

Because he wouldn’t simply give you what you want; no, that would be too easy. He would make you beg for it, tease you until you’re nothing but a stuttering mess throwing insults at him because you're losing your mind over him and his cruel little games.

He’d honestly be endeared by it, thinking you’re so cute with that frown on your face and the flames of desire and impatience burning in your eyes so brightly.

He’d give in, in the end. Because you deserve it.

And because, let’s face it, he couldn’t go one second more without your taste on his tongue.

Regulus would be a giver for the most part.

Why ?

Because he would want to look at you and all your little blissed-out expressions as he is taking you apart piece by piece.

He is an observer; he has learned to study people ever since a very young age, reading every single change in someone’s voice, posture, walking pattern, micro-expressions, and mannerism.

But with you it would be different. He wouldn’t observe you like he does with other people, like he is reading an instructions manual to know what to expect from the person in front of him with just a quick, simple glance. He’d read you like a poem. Attentively, carefully, taking his time to understand the magnificent work of art that is you. 

He wouldn’t do that because he has to. But because he wants to.

He'd want to catch every single shift in your features, every soft exhale leaving your lips, every moan you’d try to swallow down as he lays next to you, his skilled fingers pumping leisurely in and out of you, breaching through your sensitive core, massaging the tender skin of your walls in a rhythm so exquisite yet so excruciatingly slow that you’d have to start begging for him to do something, anything, to relieve the growing ache between your legs.

The heel of his palm would press on your clit with every prod, every stroke of his long and slender fingers inside of you; the friction so good, so sweet and addicting it would snatch the breath out of you, leaving you a blubbering mess as he takes in the way your features contort in pleasure.

Only then, when you would be a step away from reaching your high, your mind hazy and filled only with a perpetual chant of his name that would also roll off your lips, would he get his mouth on you.

And you’d already be soaked, drenched, and so hypersensitive that he would only need to get a taste of you, gather your essence on his tongue, and spread it on your folds, licking and lapping until he’d reach that little bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs, wrapping his lips around it and sucking gently.

You’d be gone in seconds, and he’d have the image of your blissful, fucked-out expression engraved in his brain forever.

Barty would be a receiver. One hundred percent.

And with that I don't mean he would never ever go down on you, because he would, and with immense pleasure too, might I add.

But the feeling of euphoria he'd get from seeing you on your knees, your mascara messy and ruined from the sheer veil of tears coating your eyes as your lips stretch around his cock, would send him into overdrive.

He’d look at you the whole time, lidded eyes darkened with hunger, looking at you through his lashes even when all he’d want to do is throw his head back and get lost in the feeling. He wouldn’t let himself do that, though; he would keep his eyes on you, drinking in the sight he’s being blessed with. His hands would be everywhere: in your hair, sometimes pulling gently, some other times moving them out of the way to fully see you and your sinful mouth working him up; on your face, brushing away the black ink staining your cheeks as they hollow to accommodate him better, farther. 

But his favorite place would be right on the curve between your chin and your neck, where, if he’d put just the slightest bit of pressure, he’d feel your throat contracting and relaxing every time he drags his cock in and out of you. It’d make his head spin.

His whole body would be tense, too, the muscles of his thighs, of his torso, flexing beneath his heated skin as he’d try to stop himself from literally choking you with his erratic thrusts.

But his hips would gain a consciousness of their own, arching forward to meet your greedy mouth, seeking its warmth, its perfect embrace around him, slithering himself in deeper, faster, his head hitting the back of your throat as a string of breathless groans rolls off his tongue.

He’d like it a little messy, honestly. Just like him.

Hello to all of you beautiful people 💗

How are you ? I hope you're doing good and that you spent some amazing holidays ❤

For the first time in months, I finally managed to write something decent, or at least I hope so. So here it is.

It's not exactly what I had promised you, I know (part two of the last request is in the works, don't you worry but I am afraid you'll have to wait a little more), and, on top of that, is also later that I had anticipated, so I am once again really sorry.

I'm also sorry to inform you that I'm taking another writing break until mid February. My exam session will end around then, and I'll finally be able to write more and better 😭

Sorry again for my absence, and sorry for having to disappear again for a little while.

I hope you enjoyed this little thing I came up with, and thank you again for reading my work💗

[juleswritesstuff]

Hey girlie, it’s been a while, you feeling alright? 🥹🫶🏻

Hey <3 I'm feeling ok now, thanks for asking 💗

My mind is just a little bit all over the place right now with exam season dreadfully approaching, that's why I haven't been active much.

BUT, my braincells seem to have healed and right now I am indeed cooking something 🤭 I hope I can finish it and edit it before Christmas so that I can leave you a little gift to apologize for my absence in these weeks.

I'm again really sorry for leaving you hanging, it wasn't my intention at all. I thought I could organize my life a little better, but it turns out I'm shit at it 💀

Sorry again, and thank you for waiting for me ❤

[juleswritesstuff]

Hello beautiful people 💕

I promise I didn't disappear, I just had the worst flu of my life which also left me with a beautiful gift, apparently, because my braincells are FRIED and it's taking me longer than expected to complete my works 😭

I feel so guilty for leaving you hanging, I am so genuinely sorry. But I promise I am pushing through this sort of slump to get to post as soon as possible.

It's already getting better, but I wanted to apologize nonetheless. It felt only right.

Thank you for your patience, and thank you for reading my works.

I am beyond grateful ❤

[juleswritesstuff]

i lurvedddddd that last request. could i… maybe…. possibly…. part 2??

also, following you now cause damn you’re good at writing!

Oh my, thank you so much 😭

I will ABSOLUTELY do a part two, don't you worry <3 I slowed down a little because I came up with the flu and I feel like I got ran over by a car, but I promise as soon as I feel a little better I'll work on it 💗

[juleswritesstuff]

Hello fellow italian!

I don’t really know if you take in requests but i’ll try anyway.

I was thinking jegulus x reader where reader is in a current relationship with james but also has a past with regulus, reader’s being intimate with james when he starts bringing up his worries about thenext quidditch match against slytherin, especially mentioning that regulus is too much of a good seeker to beat. Reader teases james bc he sounds like he has a crush on him but at the same time thinks of a way to arrange a ménage à trois. 😋

Hello to you, and thank you so much for your request 💌

This is my first request ever, and I am not kidding when I tell you I am so nervous I'm literally shaking in my boots. I tried my best and I really hope you like it 💗

jegulus x reader

warnings: suggestive

James’ neck had always been his weakest spot. 

The way he shivered everytime your lips started teasing the sensitive skin of his throat was almost enchanting to see, the low breathy groans that escaped his mouth were pure music to your ears.

He became putty in your hands as soon as your tongue made contact with his flesh.

And yet in that moment, with your hips straddling his, bodies flushed against each other and mouth latched to that spot on his neck you knew made him melt, he was uncharacteristically quiet.

“James” you called softly, head still buried in the gentle curve of his shoulder.

“Mmh” his hands were on your hips, just resting there. No teasing, no fingers traveling everywhere until you were nothing but a bubbling mess on top of him. Every trace of the hungry, playful James he always was when he had you in that close of a proximity was dulled, clouded. 

His body was there, but you weren’t sure you could say the same thing about his mind. Not after that barely audible mumble fell from his lips, anyway.

Something was wrong.

You lifted your head, eyes slightly narrowed and worried, ready to investigate whatever had made your boyfriend so quiet and distant when he was the most vocal guy you had ever met. 

Especially in bed.

“James” you tried again, hand cradling his cheek and gaze searching for his seemingly absent one.

That gentle touch seemed to bring him back to reality.

“Huh ?” he blinked a couple of times with that lost puppy look in those hazel eyes finally focusing on yours.

“You’re rigid” your thumb started to caress his cheek gently, a grin curved your lips “And not in the good kind of way”

Realization seemed to hit him all at once as his eyes trailed over your body still straddling him, clothes all rumpled and eyes glazed.

He groaned.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry, love. I-” his hands left your waist, reaching up to rub his face in what felt like pure frustration “-you’re here on top of me, looking like that and all I can think about is this bloody Quidditch match. I must be going insane”

He sounded so appalled by his self proclaimed lack of sanity that a grin blossomed on your lips. 

He was so cute you wanted to eat him up.

“The one against Slytherin ?” you already knew the answer, but that feeling in your chest told you you should’ve asked anyway.

“Yeah” he exhaled a defeated breath.

The smile on your face turned sweet, reassuring. 

“You’ll do amazing, James” you said on his lips right before placing a light kiss on them “Like you always do”

The hand on your back started to rub slightly, a silent ‘thank you’ for your encouraging words. His face, however, was still morphed in an unconvinced frown.

“It’s just-” his eyes met yours and you could feel every ounce of uncertainty in them “Their team has been great this year, you know ? They have very strong players and a strategy that basically demolished Ravenclaw last time. Their beaters are ruthless, their chasers are as fast as lightning and have one hell of an aim, the keeper is absurdly good at bending at every angle to not let the quaffle even graze the hoop. And Black-” he paused, uncertainty shifting to pure, raw wonder “Merlin, Regulus is brilliant this year. He is quick, and precise, and so damn fast, like- did you see him last time ? He caught the snitch in less than thirty minutes. Thirty. Minutes. That’s gotta be some kind of record, right ? He is so talented it is actually marvelous to witness. It’ll be hard beating him and his outstanding skills, especially with how swift he is on his broom. Have you noticed it becomes like an extension of him when he is on the field ? He has an excellent control of his body and his mind is extremely focused on the game, but his eyes constantly follow the snitch, like the perfect seeker that he is”

“Sounds like you have paid very close attention to him” there was a smirk on your lips, one he couldn’t see with the way your head had returned back to tease his neck.

You could feel his heartbeat stutter right against your knowing grin, blood pumping faster and erratic at your words.

And you couldn’t even blame him in the slightest.

Regulus was, for lack of better words, utterly magnetic. He had an aura that was hard to ignore, luring you in with those raven curls and silver eyes, words sarcastic and aloof, but a mouth so sweet, so addicting that you couldn’t help crave more. 

And you knew it too well.

You knew the feeling of those lips on yours, kissing and worshiping every inch of your body, you knew the touch of his hands, burning and teasing and reverent. And you knew the sensation of his eyes on you, heating your skin, making you shiver with their intensity.

The same passion with which they still looked at you, even after months of ending your little encounters. 

The same fervor with which they looked at James, too.

And James ? Oh, he definitely looked back.

And you did, too.

”He’s on the opposing team, baby. I have to pay attention” his voice trembled as the words rolled out of his mouth, and you honestly didn’t know if it was because you were now biting the sweet spot right below his ear, or because he was clearly lying “For weak spots and, ah-“

Oh, his low moans were delicious music to your ears. 

You couldn’t help your brain wandering to dangerous places. 

Places where the music became a full symphony, accompanied not only by your breathy, needy whimpers harmonizing with his deeper, gruffer ones, but also by a chorus of filthy words and desperate sounds coming from a mouth you were more than familiar with.

“Mmh” your tongue darted out to soothe the bitten skin “Or maybe someone has a little crush”

“What ?” came out of his mouth in breathless disbelief.

You grinned, lips continuing their torturing journey. 

Your hands went to his shirt, all rumpled and misplaced, unbuttoning it slowly, leisurely.

Because there was one thing that James couldn’t help doing while he was lost in pleasure. 

Speaking his mind without veils.

Usually that led to some of the lewdest things your ears had ever been graced with.

But right in that moment, as your fingers danced on the skin of his sculpted bare chest, traveling down and down slowly, you hoped it would lead to some other kind of truth.

One where he got rid of all his inhibitions and finally allowed himself to admit his desires.

You weren’t blind, nor stupid, and the way James looked at both you and Regulus with that same fire in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

“Isn’t he beautiful ?” you asked, mouth slotting with his in a filthy dance of lips and tongues.

“Y/n” he grunted, sounding more pleading and desperate rather than annoyed.

The way his body reacted told you everything you needed to know.

“Come on” you bit his lower lip, feeling the plump flesh between your teeth “It's just an innocent question”

“Is it ?” his hands on your waist tightened, making you hiss at the way his fingers were burning on your skin.

"Absolutely” you whispered right on his mouth, hips gaining a life of their own and starting to move right over his crotch.

The grunt he let out went straight to your core.

“Liar” he said with a grin on his lips, not buying your fake coyness even for a minute.

He saw right through you. 

But you saw right through him, too. 

James wore his heart on his sleeve.

“Answer me, Jamie” you whispered in his ear, your hips rolling on his in a sultry, sensual rhythm. 

Wanting him to fall apart under your touch. Wanting him to let go. 

Your hands buried in his hair, tugging lightly and eliciting a deep moan from his kissed bruised mouth.

“Isn't Regulus gorgeous ?” 

Your hips moved faster, erratic and filthy and determined to make him see stars.

His head tilted back in pleasure, hands gripping your waist for dear life.

And, finally, all his walls crumbled.

“Fuck, fuck- yes. Yes, he is. He is- holy shit. And you are, too. You are. You both are. And I really need you right now or I'll literally combust on the spot”

He barely made it to the last word before your lips were on his once again. 

There wasn't much talking after that, both your mouths way too busy in other more pleasurable activities.

But that didn't mean the gears of your brain had stopped turning.

Oh, no. They were working even faster, picturing some of the filthiest things you had ever thought about.

Scenarios that involved an empty quidditch changing room, a running shower and two very sweaty, very handsome boys with adrenaline still filling their veins and fire burning in their eyes.

Yeah, you could have definitely worked with that.

Might do a part two with a little bit of...spice 😏

Ps: I absolutely take requests <3, so feel free to send me your ideas and I'll try to fulfill them the best I can. It might take a while to write them though because uni is currently killing me 😀.

[juleswritesstuff]

Omg hi I loveee your fics, the way you write is just amazing 😭🫶🏻🫶🏻

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[juleswritesstuff]

Blind

james potter x reader

I saw that post right in the middle and I just had to.

Warnings: none (it's a bit suggestive, but nothing major)

You could live like this, you think.

It would truly be the best life ever in your humble opinion.

Sitting on his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, holding on to him like a lifeline as your bodies fit perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle. His hands are all over your body, fingers exploring wherever they can reach before sneaking swiftly under your shirt to trace along the length of your spine, pads dancing on your soft skin and making shives erupt all over you.

And his lips. Oh God, his lips. 

James has the face of an angel, and the mouth of a demon. And you love it. You revel in the feeling of his lips claiming every part of you, every inch of flesh. They are soft and reverent and teasing and filthy, and in this moment they are devouring yours with a hunger that matches the fire blooming inside of you.

“You have no right to look this good” you whisper on his lips, biting his bottom one before swiping your tongue right over it.

You couldn’t help yourself when you saw him. All disheveled after quidditch practice with his hair still a little damp, the first three buttons of his shirt free, tie loose and crooked and a half smirk on that perfect face of his; knocking on your door completely clueless of the effect he had on you.

He looked like sex on legs. A literal sin in human form, and you were ready to fall from grace when it came to him.

“Didn't know post-quidditch me was so sexy to you” his voice has a little strain to it, breathless and teasing as his hands roamed all over your body.

You let out a breathless chuckle, hyper aware of every centimeter of him pressed against you.

“You have no idea” your hands get to work on his shirt, unbuttoning it as fast as you can, until his perfectly chiseled torso graces your eyes in its full glory.

Your mouth waters at the sight.

You slide the fabric off of his shoulders, brushing the smooth skin and feeling all those firm muscles that he hides behind his beloved sweatshirts, biting your lip as the flames inside your body grow hotter by the second. 

Your mouth latches to his once again, never having enough of his taste, of him.

He starts to lay down and you follow him, never breaking the embrace of your lips, intoxicated by the way his tongue caresses yours in the filthiest of dances. His back hits the mattress and you are fully all over him, chest to chest.

The kiss becomes messy, a clash of teeth and lips and tongues. You are sure the thing running through your veins is not blood anymore, but liquid fire, consuming every cell of your body and setting you ablaze with desire.

“Woah, you're fucking blurry” 

“Hold on, love. I have to-”

One of his arms leaves your waist and reaches up, until his fingers are wrapped around the slim, golden frame of his glasses, taking them off in a way that should be considered illegal in at least twenty countries. All smooth and seductive with that little grin of his.

God, he was so beautiful like this. All worked up and breathless, laying underneath you like the tastiest meal you ever had the pleasure to taste and-

For a split second the room falls silent, not a single sound can be heard inside those four walls.

You blink a few times, enough to let his words sink in.

And when they do you can't help but burst out laughing.

A real, genuine laugh coming straight from your belly and echoing through the room like you had just heard the joke of the century.

James’ eyes are wide in disbelief, flabbergasted by your reaction. But his mouth is stretched in an incredulous grin, sprinkled with a glint of mirth as he himself can’t stop the chuckle bubbling in his throat.

“Are you making fun of my blindness ? How cruel, Y/N” there is not an ounce of offense in his tone, just light-hearted and hilariously exaggerated teasing.

“Me ?” the fake and over the top innocence in your voice makes him smile even harder, the little dimple on his left cheek that you adored so much peeking through. You dip forward, leaving a kiss on those dreamy lips of his before whispering right against them “I wouldn't even dream of it” 

“Oh, you wouldn't ?” he cocks a perfectly arched brow in a challenging and yet adorable manner, eyes sparkling with mischief as his fingers start poking at your ribs, making you squirm and giggle like a middle schooler.

“No ! No, no, no ! Jame-”

He is laughing too, now. Glasses back in their place and eyes glistening with joy and pure adoration as he looks at you struggling not to lose a lung from the almost hysterical shriek coming from your lips at the ticklish attack he had you under.

You are so focused on not collapsing from the laughter and the skillful way his fingers move in every place he knew was the most ticklish for you, that you don't even register the way his hands suddenly stop.

They land on your hips, holding them in a delicate but firm grip, and, before you know it, you are being flipped over. Your back makes contact with the mattress of your bed as the delicious weight of your boyfriend’s sculpted body settles over you. 

You let out a yelp of surprise at the sudden change of position, a sound that threatens to turn into a full moan considered your current situation.

James is now on top of you, and the breath almost gets knocked out of your lungs as you admire him in his full glory.

His hair is wild and messy, but they frame his face in a way both so beautiful and so sexy that it makes your heart stop beating and your body run hotter. His eyes are still crinkled up in the ghost of a smile, but the haziness in them, that glint of adoration and reverence as he looks at you through his eyelashes, renders you speechless. His golden specks are hung a bit low on the bridge of his nose, giving him an adorable but mouth watering beautiful look. His lips are curled up in a half smile, playful and gorgeous and so, so incredibly sensual that you are not even sure if he knows the power that mouth has on you.

“Cat got your tongue, love ?” he brushes his nose with yours as he murmurs the question right on your lips, leaving a kiss on your cheek right after.

You wish you could just function like a normal person and tell him that, no, your tongue is definitely still in its place and it works perfectly fine, thank you. But your boyfriend is shirtless on top of you, with your legs still wrapped around his hips and that deadly handsome grin plastered on his face. Suddenly, the only thing you can think about are some other couple of ways in which your mouth could definitely be useful. 

“I-” you gulp loudly as you try not to drool at the sight of his muscles flexing right before your eyes “-what ?”

He lets out a chuckle, his head hung low as his shoulders shake with laughter. His wild locks tickle your chin and you can feel the ghost of his smile pressed lightly on your collarbone

You can’t help but follow him as the delightful sound of his laugh echoes through the room, spreading a warmth in your heart that you had never felt before meeting James.

When he lifts his head back up and his eyes find yours again, all sparkling with joy and fondness, you really think your heart is seconds away from bursting in your chest.

“Am I really that distracting ?” there is still a hint of that cocky smirk on his face, but it fades into something sweeter as he catches the light blush blossoming on your cheeks.

“You know perfectly well that I stop functioning properly when you are on top of me, Potter” your grumbling tone doesn’t faze him one bit, he just dips his head lower and captures your lips in a searing kiss.

“Really ? I hadn’t noticed” the unimpressed deadpan look you give him makes him chuckle again and you can feel the vibration right on your chest with how close he is.

“Sorry, sorry” his laughter dissipates, replaced by a more relaxed smile.

“If it’s of any consolation-” the hand not busy holding his upper body up and preventing his full weight to be laid on you, reaches the supple flesh of your thigh, letting his fingers dance on the exposed skin as they please “-my brain stops working, too” 

His mouth starts a journey that begins on your lips and slowly and tortourously ends on your neck, which seems to be his favorite place to worship to make your brain short-circuit.

“Mmh, does it actually ?” you don’t know how the hell you manage to let a single word out, especially in that teasing tone, as you are sure nothing except pure filthy sounds threaten to come out of your throat.

He grins against your skin before lifting his head up once again.

“Oh, trust me. It does” he whispers sensually against your lips “In every position you have me in”

Yes, you could definitly live like this.

I am not sure if I am a 100 % satisfied with this, but I tried my best.

I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading 💗