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@myfictionaldreams
⁀➷ masterlist📚 ✧
Hello lovely human, I hope you’re having an amazing day. Welcome to my blog! I love to write in my spare time and the fiction that I create is for 18+ readers ONLY please. Also, read the tags carefully before continuing.
A03 ♥ Tags ♥ WIP ♥ Question? (requests CLOSED; however, PLEASE read my Rules) ♥ latest works ♥
✧ MARVEL // MAFIA!STUCKY
Individual; Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier ♥ Frank Castle ♥ Helmut Zemo ♥ Loki ♥ Matt Murdock ♥ Moon Knight ♥ Natasha Romanoff ♥ Steve Rogers ♥ Tony Stark Pairings; Steve/Bucky ♥ Bucky/Natasha ♥ Bucky/Wanda ♥ Natasha/Wanda
✧ HARRY POTTER // POLY!MARAUDERS
Individual; Draco Malfoy ♥ James Potter ♥Lily Evans ♥ Lucius Malfoy ♥ Remus Lupin ♥ Severus Snape ♥ Sirius Black Pairings; James/Sirius ♥ Poly!Marauders ♥ Remus/Sirius
✧ STRANGER THINGS
Individual; Eddie Munson ♥ Jim Hopper ♥ Steve Harrington Pairings; Steve/Eddie
✧ ACoTaR & ToG
Individual; Azriel ♥ Adult!Nyx ♥ Pairings; Aelin/Rowan ♥ Azriel/Cassian ♥ Bat Boys ♥ Feyre/Rhysand
✧ MISCELLANEOUS MASTERLIST
Ari Levinson ♥ Daryl Dixon ♥ Dean Winchester ♥ Jefferson (Mad Hatter) ♥ Joel Miller ♥ Lee Bodecker ♥ Lloyd Hansen ♥ Nick Fowler ♥ Sandor Clegane
♡ KINKTOBER 2022 ♡ KINKTOBER 2023 ♡ KINKTOBER 2025 ♡ 15k CELEBRATION DRABBLES
Hello Darling, I’m back again with another request. May I pretty please have a Bat Boys x reader while she’s on her period? Also I saw you posted a ‘Throne Of Glass’ fic, is it that good? I have finished the entire ACOTAR series and was considering reading it. Thank you for the Winterwidow fic it’s so hard to find any at all. 😭😭
Thanks for all your hard work love 🩷🩷
Have a Great Day, Afternoon or Night 🫶🫶
Love, Aaron
⁀➷ Crimson Agony // Bat Boys (Acotar) x F!Reader
Summary: As fae, your cycle comes twice a year in a wave of agony and aches. Your mates, as much as they fuss, are there by your side, taking each second with such care that you're consumed with devotion.
Requested by: Thank you so much, Aaron, for this lovely request! Sorry for the delay in writing, but I hope you enjoy & this is definitely comfort heavy! Side note: PLS READ THRONE OF GLASS. I can't emphasise enough how it's my favourite series. It does start a little slower, but by the end, I was emotionally broken and massively obsessed.
Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, period, pain/agony (!), hurt, comfort, domestic fluff, crying in pain, nausea/sickness, fainting, discussion of period blood, shower sex, rough sex, multiple orgasms, body worship, praise kink, aftercare
Words: 5.9k
my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link
You’re surprised by how easily you’re able to sneak out of your home this morning, as you admire the natural beauty of the city you call home: Velaris. Despite the wind bringing a briskness, the sun still beamed overhead as you strolled beside the Sidra.
Mor glances at you with her usual mischievous grin, her golden hair bouncing in loose, glossy waves. “You do realise your mates are probably losing their minds right now,” she drawled, hand tucked into the pockets of her navy jacket.
“I’m sure they are just fine,” you say simply, continuing.
“Well,” suddenly came the voice of Amren to your other side as she glared at you before taking a steadying breath. “Having just come from your wonderful abode, I can confirm those males have turned full mother-hen mode, and I wasn’t even allowed to step into the entryway, in case I brought in negative energy. Me? I should have cursed them where they stood,” she grumbles halfheartedly as you try and refrain from laughing out loud at the great Amren, all-powerful warrior, stropping and being turned away.
“I don’t know why you are surprised; they are like this every six months. The House transforms into a makeshift medical wing, bakery, and war bunker, all in one. It's ridiculous and yet, I’m somehow jealous that I don’t get that treatment when I’m on my period.”
You sigh, turning to your friends, “As much as I appreciate the effort, I’ve told them so many times that they don’t need to go to this much effort. Did you know last time, Cassian bought twelve new blankets, just in case the ones I already had weren’t up to the task. Twelve. I now own a room solely to the hoards of blankets that he continues to insist that I buy when he knows damn well that when I’m cold, all I need is him to keep me warm.”
“They care,” Mor tries to rationalise, but even she winces at your points.
Amren arched one dark brow. “They’re insane.”
~~~~~
MEANWHILE, AT YOUR HOME.
Cassian was currently attempting to shove the extra pillows into the already full linen cupboard. The siphons embedded on the backs of his broad hands caught the light flashing in a red hue as he pushed, muscles in his arms straining. “We could use more blankets,” he muses to himself, deciding that the five already lying at the end of the bed weren’t enough.
“You bought more blankets yesterday,” Azriel replied without looking up from where he stood by the kitchen island as Cassian joined him. The shadowsinger’s head was bent over a checklist, dark hair falling loosely into his hazel eyes, shoulders wrapped in the familiar sweep of his curling shadows. His scarred fingers tapped the parchment. “You’re not going to survive if she trips over a pile of them.”
Cassian frowns, straightening as he thinks for a moment before slowly smirking with confidence, “I’ll catch her.”
Rhysand strolls in then, tall and unhurried, violet eyes taking in the scene with that quiet amusement. His hair was perfectly mussed, the deep midnight black-blue stands catching the light as he set two paper-wrapped bundles of fresh bread on the counter. “I see we’re continuing the tradition of overscompensating,” he said dryly, looking between his childhood friends.
“It’s not overcompensating,” Cassian shot back, spreading his wings slightly as if that would help his point. “It’s being prepared, and I already bought bread, so now we have enough bread to feed half of Velaris.”
Azriel doesn’t look up as he drawls, “Prepared would be buying one extra blanket, not fifteen.”
“She gets cold,” Cassian insists with a shoulder shrug.
Azriel finally glances up to his friend, “She’s Fae.”
Cassian glances down, scuffing his shoes on the hardwood floor, “Still gets cold,” he mumbles.
By the time the cupboards were stocked with every tea blend the Night Court had to offer, pain tonics lined nearly the counter, and the bed upstairs remained in fresh midnight sheets, they decided it was time to find you.
It didn’t take long to follow the bond to locate you.
The three of them found you halfway inspecting a jeweller’s display, Mor beside you and Amren just inside the doorway.
Three giant shadows blocked the light of the sun as they stepped up behind you. Cassian was the first to speak. “What,” he said slowly, crossing his arms over the width of his chest, “Are you doing out of bed?”
You didn’t even turn to him as you continued to browse, “Existing?”
Azriel was at your right shoulder in that silent way of his, the gently wisping shadows of his shadows curling lazily over your ankles. “You should be saving your strength,” he expounded, voice low enough that it sent a shiver through your body.
“I feel fine,” you protested, finally turning towards them.
“Not the point,” Cass says, wings shifting as he moves closer, taking your bag off your shoulder.
Rhys was the worst of them as he gave you that lazy, knowing smile and held out a hand. “Come on, darling, you can tell us all about the urgent jewellery emergency from the comfort of Cassian’s blanket fort.”
“I think I’m perfectly fine-”, your sentence dies on the tip of your tongue as one minute you’re in the warmth of the sun and the next, he’s winnowing you away into your home's sitting room, your boots already being unlaced by Az before you’d even got your bearings.
Cassian sets your bags down, shouting over his shoulder, “Tea or cocoa?”
“Tea,” you say defiantly, already feeling the comfort of your home and having no energy to reprimand your mates for whisking you away from shopping.
Rhys gave you an apologetic kiss to your temple as Azriel began to steer you towards the soft velvet couch, with a quiet, “sit.”
A blanket you’d never seen before is then tucked around your shoulders as the fire sparked to life, and you sank into the cushions.
You gave them our best unimpressed look, but they were already settling in around you. Cassian, with a steaming mug, Azriel handing you a plate with lemon biscuits and Rhys tucking your feet under his thick thigh to warm them.
You sigh contentedly, sipping on your mug, “You know nothing’s even happening yet, right?”
Cass grins, “We know.”
Az just sipped his own tea, eyes watching you closely from beneath the sweep of his dark lashes.
Rhys smirked over the rim of his cup. “We like being ready, and I want you to savour all the energy you can before tomorrow. This is why for the remainder of the day, you are going to rest and we are going to look after you.”
You half-heartily roll your eyes, but then close them in a satisfied hum as Cass begins to massage slowly, circling your calf muscle.
~~~~~
You wake just before dawn to a light ache tugging low in your belly, the kind of cramp you could almost pretend is nothing if not for the dull echo in your lower back.
The room is shrouded in darkness and warmth as you’re tucked perfectly between your three mates. Cassian’s a furnace at your back, one huge hand open against your hip, Rhys long and idle, lying on his back with your body draped over his chest, leg thrown over his waist, and Azriel was on Rhys’ other side, his hand curled perfectly around your shoulders.
You breathe through a mild wave, which passes quickly, but the discomfort is enough that you need to move and check you’ve not leaked.
With careful movements, you inch carefully from between them, fingers skimming warm, muscular bodies. Still, thankfully, you’d woken just when they’re in the deepest of REM sleep and didn’t budge as you slipped out of bed and into the washroom.
A fresh change of clothing and a thick pad in your underwear later, you decide that you probably weren’t going to slip back to bed anytime soon. When you step into the hall, the house is cloaked in predawn blue, the chirp of birds beginning to wake outside.
The faelights illuminate the sparkling kitchen as you fill the kettle, leaning against the countertop onto your forearms, eyes closed as the water begins to boil.
He’s silent as he steps behind you, his body flushed against yours, scarred hands circling your waist as he leans in to give gentle kisses along the slope of your throat as you sigh into his touch.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” Azriel asks against your skin, smiling as you shiver at the touch.
“Because you hardly sleep as it is. Anyway, why did you wake up?” you ask, beginning to reach up to get two mugs, but Azriel grabs them before you can, his shadows swirling around his long fingers. “Ah, let me guess, your little friends snitched on me.”
Your answer came in the way of a gentle kiss to the back of your head and a hum. With one hand, Azriel begins to prepare two mugs of tea, and with the other, he holds you tightly to his chest, his fingers lower on your abdomen, massaging where the ache blossoms. You sigh into the touch, eyes closed and letting him subtly rock your body on the spot as the fresh scents of mint waft from the tea.
“Go and sit down, love. I’ll bring it to you.”
You do, whilst trying to hide a yawn behind your palm, settling into the sitting room couch and a moment later, Azriel is bringing you a freshly brewed mug of tea and some buttery warm toast as his shadows curled around your ankles fondly.
“Thank you, Azriel,” you say with as much affection as possible, as he sits beside you, his thumb drawing circles against your abdomen, one more, applying massaging pressure whenever your breath hitches or body tenses.
The horizon begins to pale with the first signs of light as the early morning risers begin to flick on faelights across the city, and you both watch out of your home's window. It’s beauty like this that you savoured with every second that passed as you leaned into his touch, thankful for it all.
And then another cramp would ruin the serenity as you’d breathe deeply through the pain that was beginning to cause your thighs and hips to ache.
By the time Rhys glides in, bare-chested, loose sleep pants, and hair lightly tousled from sleeping, the ache has crept to your lower back.
“Good morning, trouble,” he says, voice sleep rough as his palm cups your cheek. Violet eyes flick over you once, taking stock of the way your shoulders are tense, mouth set tightly. His steady palm cupped the nape of your neck, thumb brushing beneath your ear as he stroked gently against your mental barriers, asking permission to enter, which you do without hesitation.
He finds the aches throughout your body and turns the volume down a notch, enough for your muscles to relax and eyes to droop in relief.
Another ten minutes pass before Cassian thunders in at last, and it’s not all soft touches and gentle goodmornings. He’s an avalanche of size and wild, dark, flopping hair, stubble shading his jaw. His wings flare, reaching nearly wall to wall as he stretches his entire body with an ungraceful groan.
Hazel eyes flick to the pad of Azrie’s hand on your stomach, and it’s all he needs to know as to why he woke up alone in bed and how the morning was going so far. “Okay. Okay.”
“It’s fine,” you say, in no way a complete lie, thanks to Rhys taking some of your pain, but you knew it would only last so long before even his High Lord power couldn’t touch the cramps.
Your mates let you pretend to be okay for a single hour.
You sit at the table now while Cass fusses with the stove, preparing your food that initially you didn’t want, but as he adds his special ingredients and the fragrant scents hit your nose, your mouth is watering before it’s even set on the table.
Rhys takes the chair next to you and reads the morning paper, his voice a soothing baritone of calm. Azriel hovers in the doorway, leaning one shoulder against the frame, barefoot and holding a mug he doesn’t drink from as his eyes flick between you and the clock.
The ache climbs steadily as you try your best to ignore it, continuing with your day like the sensation of impending doom wasn’t lingering beneath the skin.
“Might need to…” You start but trail off as you breathe deeply through a cramp radiating right in the centre of your belly. Rhys’s hand curls around your knee under the table, a reassuring touch as your eyes blink open as the pain eases.
Cassian’s eyebrows are already furrowed as he begins to stand. “Heat,” is all he says as he disappears from the room for seconds, before returning with a hot water bottle, pressing it gently into your lap.
“Thank you, handsome,” you say lightly, tipping your head back as he leans down to kiss your lips for a long second and then the tip of your nose affectionately.
After breakfast is over and the morning hours are well on the way, you try to stand with the intention of washing up the dishes. The room tilts violently, the ache meaner, pain flickering down your spine that makes you hiss.
Cassian is there before your chair scrapes, one strong arm looping under your knees, the other around your back, “Nope. We’re going upstairs, sweetheart,” he says, easy and absolute. You wrap your arms around his neck, letting your head drop against his shoulder and count the beats of his heart because it helps to steady your breathing.
Upstairs, they build a nest of endless blankets, candles and aromatherapy. Cassian lays you gently on your side, tucking the heat stone back in place, then wedges a pillow between your knees to take the pressure off your hips. When you shiver, Rhys plans a kiss to your temple, tucking the blankets in more firmly and stroking a firm hand over your spine.
For a while, it's a steady ache, not so constant as you breathe through it. Rhys matches you, doing the breathing techniques that Cassian had taught you whilst training.
By midday, the pains have you praying for the day to end. You try to stand to rush to the bathroom, but you double over, hands braced on your thighs as your vision whites at the edges, your gasp sharp.
They are there in the same heartbeat. Azriel is at your shoulder, shadows fanning cool wisps. “I’ve got you. Breathe for us,” he says whilst taking your weight into his arms, helping you the remainder of the way to the bathroom.
When you return, Rhys is ready with a tonic, helping you to sip the bitter concoction into your mouth as your lips shake. You’re tucked back into their arms before your next breath, cosy and safe, even if you start to project your pain through the mating bond, something you couldn’t help but do as the agony was becoming overwhelming. Each of them grapples with the urge to help take away the pain and relieve their mate, but it was getting to the point of no return.
Then, there was the bleeding, coming heavily and fast. Shame flares, old and useless. Cassian’s already got a towel under you, Azriel is offering to swap to a fresh pad, and Rhys is there, reminding you that “we don’t care about the mess. We’ve each bled on each other for centuries. It is a part of you, it is natural, and we are going nowhere.”
It becomes difficult trying to keep food down as all you can do is tense your body with each wave of pain. It's unbearable, and yet your mates somehow get you through it with soft words of reassurance, massages, fresh clothes, blankets, water, and easily consumed food like soup.
Then the nausea surges, sharp and sudden with no warning beyond a single, cold spike of oh no. A basin appears under your chin before the thought finishes, Rhys of course. Azriel steadies you as Cassian steads your shoulders with slow rubbing circles.
It hurts. It’s humiliating, even when Azriel reassures you, “You’ll feel better in a moment, love. You’re doing so well.”
Afterwards, you begin trembling from exertion. When the nausea settles, Cassian tucks you into his lap like a child, your back to his chest, his chin hooked over your shoulder. He is so big around you that it's impossible to feel upheld.
“Breathe on my count,” He rumbles, and you do because it helps to ground you to something that doesn't just revolve around pain.
The afternoon blurs into a dim evening. The cramps change, becoming sharper, so that you end up spending more time between conscious and unconscious, you can’t even tell what time it is. Your eyes remain clenched tightly shut, your whimpers being the only indicator to your mates if you’re awake or not. They continue to move steadily around you, taking turns to feed you pain tonics, to hold your body to theirs.
“Sleep. We’re here, we’ve got you, darling,” Rhysand whispers, a thumb passing over your brow. And you do, you let your body fall restlessly into sleep. Hoping that the following day would be filled with less agony.
~~~~~
You wake, full of disorientation, unimaginable exhaustion, and a head feeling woolly. The bedroom is a gentle dusk, the curtains marginally opened to allow a fresh breeze to circulate the room.
“Hey,” Cassian rumbles from behind you, starting the day in the same position as the day before, firm and steady at your back with a heavy arm resting over your waist. “On a scale of one to ‘I’m going to fight the Cauldron’, where are we this morning?”
“Six,” you manage, throat dry and voice rasping.
Rhysand shifts in front of you, propping himself on an elbow, hair perfectly styled, the first indicator that he and neither of your other mates has slept a single moment overnight. His eyes search your face, calculating whether the stiffness in your shoulders is from exhaustion or pain. “Good morning, darling. Are you thirsty?”
“Yes,” you answer simply, eyes drooping sleepily.
Azriel is already moving as he rises from the end of the bed, pouring some water from the jug on the bedside cabinet, holding it out for you to take small sips. “Easy does it. We’re going to take it steady today, as always.”
You hum in agreement, taking dainty sips to wet your tongue. For a while, you drift in and out of sleep, and just like the day before, your mates are attentive to your needs. Azriel places a cool cloth on your hairline, Cassian tucks a second blanket around your legs, and Rhysand massages your sore belly.
“Hungry?” Cass asks eventually, hopeful.
You make a face. “Not really, maybe something small?”
Az is up with a nod, all quiet efficiency and fleeting shadows as he disappears through them rather than using the door. Cassian eases you into a sitting up position, his arm still tucked around your shoulder as you lazily rest against his chest.
You hum. “You’re very pretty, you know,” you tell him, because the filter between your brain and mouth is thinner today. His grin is slow and somewhat sheepish as he has the decency to look taken aback by the comment as he strokes a finger down your cheek.
“So are you,” he says simply.
Azriel returns with fresh stew and bread, although you’re only able to get through half of the meal before your stomach twists with unease.
They keep you mostly in bed. You protest once, and the room tilts meanly. Rhys is already catching you with a hand at your temple, dampening the dizziness. “Let’s not reenact yesterday’s collapsing performance,” he says gently. “The reviews were poor.”
By midday, the ache is a constant low throb. Your mates coax you into a warm bath filled with lavender oil and enough bubbles to spill over the edge as you climb in. The warmth is hot enough that it eases some of the cramping, as Rhys carefully massages your scalp with strong fingers that have you nearly falling asleep.
“Tell us if it’s too much,” Rhys says.
“It’s good,” you respond sleepily without opening your eyes.
Back in bed, you’re warm and a little looser. They take turns reading to you. You don’t remember who starts, only that Az’s voice is low and even, Cassian’s words turn buoyant when the story brightens, and Rhys patronises all of them by doing the accents too well.
Then all of a sudden, the hormones erupt from you in a tidal wave of emotion, just the heaviness of being tired for so long. The tears arrive without warning, hot and pointless and mortifying.
You try to hide your face. Three sets of hands say no.
“Hey,” Cassian quietly says, immediately drawing you into his chest. “Hey, sweetheart, you don’t have to be brave right now. Let it out.”
“It’s stupid,” you say, and the words wobble, and that wobble cracks your breath.
“Nothing about this is stupid. You’re exhausted, you’re in pain, don’t hold it in. We’ve got you, love,” Az says, voice firmer than it’s been all day. He cups your jaw in his scarred palm, thumb catching the wet under your eye.
Rhys kisses the centre of your forehead. “You’ve done well to last this long. How about you stay here with my brothers, and I’ll fetch us some cocoa?”
You sniffle not so delicately as you release a shaking, quiet sob following the movement that you can’t quite swallow back. Azriel and Cassian wrap your body in their arms, until you can feel, sense and breathe in your mates.
By the time Rhysand returns with four cups of steaming hot cocoa, you’re no longer sobbing and now just silently simpering..
“Better?” he asks, violet eyes searching your blotchy, tear-stained face as he hands you your drink.
“A little,” you whisper.
Evening slips in. You’re emptied in a way that makes sleep feel possible. Cassian settles behind you again, his chest to your back, his breath a slow anchor. Az slides close at your front, fingers threaded through yours under the blankets, his thumb tracing the knuckles. Rhys takes watch at the base of the bed, your feet lie over his lap as he massages your calves. For a minute, none of you speaks.
“Love you,” you murmur, drowsy and wrecked, because it feels important to say it in the quiet. You’re asleep before they can utter their devoted responses.
Morning comes with aches and a sticky feeling that has you squirming in the centre of the bed until you’re forced to sit up. Dishevelled and eyes barely open, you glance at the males lounging across the room, each still awake, despite days of not sleeping.
“Good morning, darling, how are you feeling?” Rhysand drawls, his voice rough with lack of sleep, as his fingers pressed into your lower back in deep, soothing circles.
“Hmm, two out of ten? I’m feeling better but just need to wash up a bit,” you explain, beginning to slide out of bed. Cassian is already moving from where he’s slouched in a chair, his eyes having only been on you since the moment your eyes flickered open.
He helps you to stand, his wings expanding to block the early morning glare from reaching your eyes. “M’lady,” he offers an outstretched hand, which you take but only to brush it with a kiss to the knuckles.
“Please, can you get some sleep? I’ll be ok, I just want to clean up,” you say, walking slowly past him. When you don’t have a response, you turn back to them as you reach the bathroom door to find each of them sitting up, watching you intently with no plans to get any sleep. You laugh lightly under your breath, but are infinitely grateful for your mates’ mother-hen antics.
You pad into the bathroom and take your time. Steam rising from the shower quickly fills the room with a thick warmth that surrounds you like a hug as you step beneath the spray. Tipping your face back, you let the water run over you for a couple of minutes before beginning to wash.
It was as the soap suds were circling the drain that a large shadow tilted the glass door and slid in. You can sense who it is before his muscular arms circle your waist. Cassian.
He’s all heat and breadth and gentle hands. As nude as you are, he tugs your back against his chest. Despite the muscles covering his body, he feels soft as you sigh into his hold, head tipped back against his shoulder, as he leans down to kiss along your neck in sensual touches.
Cass rocks you in the water, forehead to the curve of your neck, breathes a low hum. “Miss you,” he murmurs against your skin, continuing his unhurried journey of kisses from your shoulder to beneath your ear, the kind that makes your knees soften with relief.
You tip your head to the side, offering your mouth, which he takes slowly, lingering with fervent touches of his fingers exploring the rest of your body from gripping your waist to cupping your breasts, his thumbs stroking your pebbled nipples.
“Mmm,” you moan as his tongue clashes with yours, your arse rubbing against the thickness of his that now throbbed against your lower back. His large palms map you, like he was trying to touch every inch of your body just because he could.
“Let me take care of you,” Cassian says, voice low with lust and need. His fingers trail lower, with no rush, just the kind of focused, steady attention that has you curling your toes against the tiled flooring as the water continues to beat down on you, the two of you.
The moment the rough callouses or the tip of his fingers brush against your clit, you pull back from the kiss to cry out, rising to your tiptoes to chase the touch. “That’s it, baby,” Cass moans as he buries his face into your neck. He applies pressure between your legs, circling and building the pleasure.
Heat tightens in your core as your hips circle with his movements, your fingers digging into his veiny forearms just to have something to hold onto. Just when you think you’re going to slip over the euphoric edge, his hand disappears.
Before you’re even able to whine in complaint, Cassian is turning you and lifting your body into his arms, your back meeting the coolness of the wall as he curls your legs around his waist.
“Easy now, sweetheart,” he groans, slipping a hand between his legs and nudging the head of his cock against your pussy.
“Cass!”, you cry out, eyes closed and nails imprinting into his shoulders as he ever so slowly enters you, being careful not to irritate the ache that naturally comes with being on your period.
The blood used to stop you from seeking pleasure during these days, but after years of complaints and thorough research from Rhys, they had shown you over and over that pleasure can aid with the cramps. And each of your mates was very much unfazed by the blood.
He feels so deep, like he’s trying to reach your belly button from within as your walls clench repeatedly around him, trying to accommodate his size until he finally bottoms out. Cassian grunts, fingers tightening from under your thighs as he continues to hold you up, his cock throbbing inside you.
Much like the kissing, Cass is in no rush, slow thrusts that make you feel every ridge, vein, throb of his cock. However, you were already so close to orgasm that it only took four thrusts before your cunt was contracting through bliss.
“That’s it, good girl,” he praises, leaning back to watch your face as he continues to thrust through your orgasm.
Your mate doesn't stop, though, just continues with the deep, powerful thrusts that each rock you gently against the wall, but his hand moves to support the back of your head, dragging your mouth once more to his as he swallows every gasp and moan that you release.
Cassian completely consumes you until you’re overwhelmed with pleasure, orgasms pulsing into another until he too is groaning lowly, hips stuttering as he finally spills warmly into your cunt. He stays there with you, forehead to yours, cock staying warm inside of you.
You both stare at each other for one blissfully worshipful moment before you’re both grinning at each other and giggling ridiculously. “Mother above, I could live for that sound,” Cassian grins, his nose brushing yours before kissing you sweetly.
Then he pulls back with a shake of his head, his laugh turning into a rough chuckle, “Rhys is calling me unspeakable names in my head,” he is confused, still breathless. “Jealous High Lord wants his mate, it seems.”
He sets you down gently. When the glass door opens, Rhys is already there, hair a dark mess, eyes brightly violet this morning, and hungry in the bathroom light. You’ve barely recovered from Cassian before Rhys is pouncing on you with little to no restraint, his touch greedy, possessive and a little desperate.
He eases you back to the shower wall, one hand cupping your jaw, keeping your mouth exactly where he wanted it, and the other reaching for your thigh, lifting it and wrapping your calf around his lower back.
“Missed you,” he whispers against your mouth, his tongue stroking against your lower lip just to taste you. “Give me those pretty sounds, darling.”
Before you can respond, his cock is right there, hard and thick and pushing into your already pulsing hole, dripping with his best friend's seed. Rhys whines deeply, entering you in one desperate push of his hips as his fingers grip in a bruising way into your skin.
“Rhys, please!” you chant against your lips, eyes flicking between his, your fingers gripping desperately into the hair at the nape of his neck as water continues to bounce off of his shoulders.
“That’s it, beg for it.” Rhysand’s wings appear behind him, balancing him entirely as he pushes into you with more force. Your breath hitches at the sensation, feeling him just as deep as Cassian, just as filling, as he fucks you with much more vigour.
You’re barely able to keep yourself standing on one leg as Rhys pins you to the wall with his vast body. Over and over, he thrusts into you, chasing your pleasure rather than his own.
Your clit pulsed with each stroke of his cock inside you, as you tighten and orgasm around him again and again. It’s almost too much with how many times you shatter around him that you’re exhausted for an entirely new reason now, and finally, he follows with a ragged exhale, pressing you close and still with a possessive growl.
The water and your heavy breathing are what fill the enclosed shower space. The warmth continues to billow around the two of you as he kisses you slowly, savouring these moments alone with you.
Then you spot it, or more so them, out of the corner of your eye as shadows curl around Rhys’s wrists, flicking and demanding. Rhys finally pulls back slightly, chuckling to himself. “All right, all right. She’s safe and she’s yours. For now anyway,” he talks to the shadows, carefully lowering your thigh to the floor, making sure you’re steady against the wall before backing off with a quick smirk and a wink.
Azriel passes him, naked and proud, as he stares hungrily at you. You’re mesmerised by his beauty for a moment, staring up at his tall stature until you’re both toe to toe, water now cascading over his wings and broad shoulders.
His cool fingers tip your chin up as he inspects your swollen lips and flushed appearance. From the way his cock visibly throbs between his legs, knocking against your stomach, you know he likes what he sees as you can’t help but squeeze your thighs together.
With surprisingly gentle touches, Az’s fingers grip your waist and turn your body until your face is now pressed to the chilled tiled wall. His control is vastly more measured than his friends, the sort of hunger and focus that leaves you devastatingly desperate.
One palm spreads over your lower back, the other steadies at the hollow of your throat, not choking, just tilting your face back slightly. “Arch a little for me. Good. Stay with me, love.”
Azriel’s foot taps against the inside of yours, spreading your legs slightly before he lowers his body until his chest is flush against your back and his cock is pressed against your pussy, entering with a gentle rocking motion, being careful not to irritate your already sensitive walls.
You can feel him everywhere. Inside of you. Lips against your cheek. Forehead pressing against yours. Hands possessively pressing into your hips to hold your position.
Much like Cassian, Azriel's thrusts were slow and measured, but were so deep that your knees trembled with each in and out motion. “That’s it. You’re taking me so well. Sing so prettily for me,” he praises against your cheek, pressing your body more firmly against the wall until your breasts pinched against the tiles.
You came until you were dizzy with pleasure. Your walls are in a constant state of fluttering and desperately trying to milk his cock. However, Azriel didn’t stop. He wanted to see just how far he could take you, wanting you to experience only pleasure after days of pain as his fingers now slipped between your legs, pressing against your sensitive clit.
“I-I can’t,” you cry out, hands pressed against the wall, eyes closed as you’re overwhelmed with the sensation.
“Yes, you can. Just one more,” he demands, burying his face into your neck and biting gently into the sensitive skin.
You almost collapse with your final orgasm, knees trembling with so much force that Azriel has to hold up your weight altogether, his groan rumbling against your back as he fills you with heated wetness that mixes with your two mates’ seed.
Your mind is blissfully silent as you remain in place, his cock slipping out of your deliciously sore pussy.
“How’s the pain?” he asks, hands circling your front, resting over your abdomen and massaging the area that’s been in agony for days.
“Gone,” you whisper, dazed and smiling. “Just sleepy now.”
“Good. That’s what I wanted. Let’s get you back to bed.”
He dries you with painstaking care, as if every inch were delicate and carries you back to bed. Cassian is there with a fresh shirt, underwear and pad, and Rhys is prepared with a fresh cool drink and pastry.
They settled around you, the bodies warm, safe and comforting as you settled into the exhaustion, feeling entirely better than hours earlier.
“I love you,” you say in a whisper, half asleep and yet planning a way to show your appreciation for your mates in the following days, as you couldn’t have asked for more devoted and loving care.
Poly!marauders where James and Sirius overhear locker room talk after quidditch practice about how some of the guys want to fuck reader. They tell Remus about it and the next day when the team walks into the locker room they can overhear reader being fucked by Remus in the showers.
⁀➷ Let Them Hear // Poly!Marauders x F!Reader
Summary: After Quidditch practice, James and Sirius overhear crude locker room talk about you that leaves them raging. When they tell Remus, his temper snaps, and by the next practice, the team learns exactly why you’re untouchable.
Requested by: I wrote this ages ago, I'm sorry it's taken me a while to post! thank you so much for the request! <3
Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, protective/possessive marauders, misogyny talk/locker-room talk, anger, threats, shower sex, exhibitionism, size kink, size difference, oral (f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, praise kink
Words: 4.6k
my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link
The showers in the Quidditch changing rooms switched off with a heavy clunk, leaving the room thick with steam curling damp in the air.
James Potter shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose with one hand, towel slung low around his hips, as he padded barefoot across the slick stone floor.
Sirius Black walked just behind him, towel over his shoulder, hair dripping down the line of his jaw as he did nothing to hide his nudity from his boyfriend, all pride and confidence.
They were laughing, still riding the high of Quidditch practice, James mocking Sirius for missing the quarrel with his bat, Sirius swatting at him and insisting it was strategy and he just wanted to flex his arms, especially with you and Remus watching in the stands.
They were just about to return to the main changing area when they heard it.
“Did you see her in the stands with Lupin? Merlin, I’d give anything to have her under me, moaning my name.”
“Do you think they do her one at a time or in a group? I mean, imagine having three boyfriends? She must be a good lay with three of the most popular guys at Hogwarts at her beck and call.”
The group shared in the laughter behind the closed door, unbeknownst to them that Sirius and James were on the other side of the door, knowing full well they were discussing you.
Sirius is the first to react. A flush deepens in shades across his cheeks as his limbs begin to shake, fists tightening at his sides as he moves to storm into the room. It was a moment of reaction, and damn the consequences; as long as someone's face was punched, he didn’t care about the repercussions.
However, James' hand, wrapped around his arm, halted his momentum. “Just think for a minute, Sirius,” James says, his agitation evident from the firmness of his jaw as he grits his teeth together.
“A minute? You think those fuckers deserve a minute left without a bloody nose? Let go of me, James.”
James didn’t let go. “Trust me. I want to knock those wankers out too, but we’ll be kicked off the team, or worse, out of the school if we actually followed through with what's going through my head right now,” he tried to reason with him, always the level-headed one out of the group.
Sirius forcefully removed his arm from James's hold and began to pace on the spot, taking a second to wrap his towel around his waist, covering his nudity. “I don’t particularly fucking care about being kicked out of the school right now,” he fumes, clicking his neck, wishing he had his wand on him, instead of it being with the rest of his clothes in the room with those scumbags.
“Just hear me out, Pads, ok? I’ll go in and pull the Captain card. Threaten them all, and then we can get revenge together, Marauders style, with Moony.”
Sirius took another moment to take a deep breath and brush off the initial red rage in his vision before nodding silently at James' idea.
The two entered the locker room, the laughter dying on their teammates' lips as they all immediately felt the tension thicken hotly. James looked between them all with disgust, brows furrowed beneath his glasses. “You think this is a joke? Talking about her like she doesn’t have feelings? Like she’s not a real person? That’s my girl. Our girl. I thought the Gryffindor team would be above crude locker room talk. It’s pathetic, all of you are. If I ever hear another word about her out of your mouths, you’re all done. Not only will I replace you with first years, but I’ll go straight to Dumbledore. So learn some fucking respect.”
One of the boys tries to stammer an excuse, an apology, but James cuts him off with a deathly glare. “No. Don’t bother trying to speak to me or Sirius right now when you were laughing at her not even 30 seconds ago. Our relationship has absolutely nothing to do with any of you or your gossip.”
Sirius steps around James so that all the attention is on him. “What James is trying to say politely is that you’re lucky we don’t hex your limp dicks off you. So why don’t you all get your shit and fuck off out of here before we change our minds?”
A scampering of bodies rushes for the door, half-dressed and dishevelled, whilst evacuating the room until only James and Sirius are left behind. James sighs, brushing a hand messily through his damp hair as he walks over to his bag and begins to dress himself.
“Remus is going to lose his mind when he hears, you know, “Sirius muses, his tone slightly more relaxed now but no less concerned.
~~~~~
Following Quidditch practice, the plan had been for everyone to converge and meet in the library, which is immediately where Sirius and James head towards, not in the mood to even wave at friends as they pass, shoulder to shoulder, slightly breathless from the fast pace.
Reus Lupin casually leans over the table, leaning a fist under his jaw as he scribbles notes for his latest essay, bored out of his mind with ink smudged beneath his scarred fingers, sleeves of his grey cardigan rolled up to his elbows.
He hears his boyfriends before he sees them, all stomping feet and chairs scraping as Sirius and James collapse into the seats opposite him. “How was…” the words die on the tip of his tongue as he takes in the agitated and distressed looks.
“Where is she? Has something happened?” he asks in a rush, dropping his quill and ignoring the splash of ink that marks his piece of parchment as his green gaze flicks between his lovers.
“We thought she was with you? And something has happened but directly to her,” Sirius answers, leaning back in his chair, legs spreading with casual confidence as he too rolls the sleeves of his jumper up, flexing his hands and relaxing them on his thighs.
“What happened?” Remus emphasises looking at James.
The two of them explained everything that had been overheard and the confrontation that had ensued.
Remus stands abruptly before James or Sirius could comprehend the motion. He’s out of the library before either of them has left their seats, his wand in hand as he roughly pushes past other students in a fit of rage.
“Wait. Rmus, just stop a minute!” Sirius calls, grabbing his boyfriend roughly by the collar and shoving him into an empty classroom with James slamming the door closed and standing in front of it as a makeshift human barrier.
“I will only ask this once. James, move out of my fuckign way,” Remus all but growled.
Remus held different levels of temper compared to his boyfriends. Due to the full moon, Remus could keep an aggression that was inhuman and uncontrollable, verging on animalistic. However, the full moon had been the week previous, so any signs of anger now were purely from the overwhelming comprehension to protect what was his.
“No. You need to listen to us before you get yourself expelled. Do you think she would want that, huh?” James asked, finding it hard to justify stopping Remus with his stampede, considering he wanted to do it just as severely as his boyfriend, but needed to maintain some rational thoughts in the group.
“So I’m supposed just to let them talk about my girl like that?” Remus says through gritted teeth.
“Our girl,” Sirius quips, trying to soothe the tension, but from the fierce look he received from Remus, he had only managed to do the opposite.
“I’m not saying we can’t get revenge. We will Moony, trust us in this. But think about it for a minute. You’re head boy, you can’t just go cursing students.”
“Watch me,” Remus spits, loosening his tie as his body continues to heat with anger.
Sirius decides to flick his wand, then, drawing Remus’ wand out of his hand and catching it effortlessly, holding up his hands in surrender as Remus takes a step towards him. “Wait a moment and just hear us out, love.”
He begins to explain the strategy and plan that he and James had discussed on the walk back from the training session, and how it wouldn’t get them expelled.
Remus finally relents, sighing and rubbing his eyes to try and ease the tension slightly. “Fine. Fine. But I still want them to know exactly who she belongs to because-”
Remus’ words are interrupted by a gentle knock on the classroom door behind James. The three Gryffindors share a frown, a confused glance, before James slowly opens the door slightly. Remus and Sirius watched James' tiff posture soften as he leaned an arm casually against he doorway. “Sorry, you didn’t say the magic password.”
“Are you guys mad at me?” you asked from where you stood in the doorway, biting your lip, anxiety piercing in your eyes as you clutched the Marauders Map in your hand tightly.
“What? No, we aren’t mad at you, don’t be silly. Come here, honey,” James reassures quickly, his tone softening maddeningly as he tugs on your wrist, pulling you into the classroom and closing the door behind you.
“Are you sure? It’s just that I thought we were meeting in the library and I saw Remus’ bag in the corner, but none of you were there. I waited for ten minutes, but none of you turned up, so I used the map to find you. Sorry, I was late to the library. I just had to get my books from our room. I didn’t think I would be long and-”
Your nervous ramblings were silenced by Remus' mouth descending against yours with a level of urgency that has you squealing for a second before melting into his arms. After a moment, he pulls back to kiss your temple slowly and tenderly. “Noe made. Never ever mad at you,” he reassures gently, all signs of previous anger having gone the moment he heard your voice at the door.
Your tense shoulders slump as you take a deep breath, looking up at him with renewed excitement. “Good! I’m glad. So uh, why are we hiding in this dusty room?”
You’re absurdly spun around as an arm wraps around your middle from behind as you scream, Sirius manhandling you as he chuckles lowly. “Maybe we just wanted to get our pretty girl all dirty,” he jokingly suggests as he kisses your neck, only to be pushed away.
“Ew, no thank you. Oh, by the way, good training session today! I loved when you were flexing your arms, the uniform really makes your arms bulge,” you say with a subtle grin, turning so you’re facing Sirius, who tilts his head towards James.
“See, told you I missed the hit on purpose; she understands me.”
Your boyfriends then fell silent, passing subtle glances at each other at the reminder of Quidditch practice. You stare at them expectantly, with a slight frown. “What’s going on?”
James is the first to snap out of it, stepping closer with a clap of his hands. “Nothing, love. You know what? I’m kinda hungry. Why don't we forget about studying and head to the kitchens?”
“James, you’re always hungry," you muse, stepping closer to him as he links your fingers together, leaning down to kiss your cheek.
“Hungry for you, more like,” he jokes, distracting you as Sirius and Remus continue to try to get a hold of themselves before the four of you leave to head towards the Hogwarts kitchens.
~~~~~
The following week passed without any mishaps. The sun is shining and you’re walking hand in hand with Remus through the grounds, killing time before the start of watching this week's Quidditch practice.
It started innocently, with soft laughter, shoulders brushing against each other, fingers intertwining. And then, he’s tugging you gently closer, the smell of fresh grass and flowers in the air, as he leans down to capture your mouth in a slow and sensual kiss that makes your chest ache.
Your fingers slowly move up his torso, gripping his collar as they rest heavily around your waist, pulling you up to the tips of your toes, chest brushing against his as you melt into his touch.
His mousey brown hair is soft, freshly washed and fluffed from air drying, as your fingers grip it tightly at the base of his neck, tilting your face as you both fall headfirst into each other's arms. It’s only when the sound of other students giggling that you slip back into reality.
Lowering yourself back to your flattened feet, and hiding your heated face into his chest as he chuckles, kissing your temple affectionately, cupping the back of your head. He breathes in heavily against your skin, moaning and then tilting your face up to his as his eyes take in all of your features.
“You smell and taste so good, I don’t want to stop,” he admits, tilting your face back further to expose the length of your neck so that he’s able to press his face in until he's kissing the sensitive skin beneath your ear.
“What has gotten into you?” you ask breathlessly, swaying on the spot but not stopping his display of public affection.
“Mmm, you’ve gotten into me, love. So fucking perfect. I just want to strip you right here, taste every inch of skin, I don’t care who sees.”
You hum at the thought, not taking it seriously as your fingers continue to stroke through his hair, but then his fingers slip beneath your shirt, lifting it slightly until you’re able to feel the breeze over your now-exposed skin.
“Remus!” you reprimand, stepping away from him and pulling down your shirt at the back as you look around at the bustle of students also walking throughout the grounds.
He reaches for your hands, his rough callouses brushing your soft skin as he pulls your body back towards him, his smirk making your knees feel weak. “I love it when you look like that. All shy like I don't know what naughty things you're thinking about in that pretty mind of yours.”
Your eyes drop to the floor to hide the blatant embarrassment as he guessed correctly as to what you were thinking. His mouth shifted to your cheek, kissing it gently and softly until he reached the shell of your ear. “What did I say I couldn't wait until we got back to our dorm? What if I said I had a little place we could go, just the two of us? A secret spot where I can finally put my face between those pretty legs of yours without being disturbed.”
You swallow thickly, mouth suddenly becoming dry, fingers bruising into his shoulder as you nod wordlessly, pleasure beginning to dampen into your panties.
He takes your hand, pulling you gently across the grounds. It was only as you approached the Quidditch pitch that you dug your feet into the grass. “We can’t go into the stands to do … that,” you say, looking up at the structure until your neck aches.
Remus smirks down at you, squeezing your hand. “I know. It’s not there that I had in mind anyway. Come on, pup, this way.” The two of you walk further around the structure until you’re approaching the white tent that leads to the players’ changing rooms.
“Won't the Gryffindor team be here soon for training?”
Remus shrugs, trying to pull you towards the tent. “There’s plenty of time, come on, I’ve got an idea.”
Following his lead and hand gripping his, you look over your shoulders to make sure no one was watching, but thankfully, it was only you and Remus at this part of the grounds. Inside the tent, it leads into the changing rooms and then into the shower,
which is where Remus leads you.
It’s quiet, without even a steady drip to cover the silence as he asks, “Do you trust me?” Remus turns to you, hand still in hours as he saunters backwards into one of the shower cubicles.
“Always. You know I do,” you say earnestly.
The corners of his lips tip up softly, but then he’s quickly grabbing your waist firmly, pulling you both backwards and turning on the shower.
“Ah, Remus!!” You scream as you’re doused in freezing cold water. Your clothing becomes soaked through, clinging desperately to Remus’ warmth as he laughs at your reaction, shaking his head, causing water to spray in every direction.
Before you could continue to chastise him for his ludicrous actions, he mouths a kiss against yours in a hungry, breathtaking kiss. The water, continuing to beat down overhead, begins to warm, just as your arousal deepens.
Remus is all dominance. From the way his hands cup your jaw, tilting your face in the perfect direction, to the way his tongue pushes past your lips to taste and devour you completely. You were dizzy with the lack of oxygen, but you couldn’t stop, needing to taste the sweetness on his tongue, to feel the hardness of his body beneath the soaked clothes.
Then he’s moving lower, dropping to his knees, right there in the middle of the cubicle, water draining beneath him as he rests his hands on your hips, pushing your body until you’re resting against the tiled walls.
You stare down at him, blinking back the water that drops down into your face. With a careful touch, he began to lift one of your legs, easing it over one of his shoulders as he kissed the inside of your knee. Then higher, to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Then higher still until his face was hidden beneath your grey pleated skirt.
With his thumb hooking into the edge of your underwear, he moves it aside and delves between your legs. The man eats as if he’s been restricted in his food intake. All sloppy tongue pressing into your cunt, slurping lips sealing around your clit until your knees buckle, but his strong hands keep you upright.
Your eyes close, head tilting back as you cover your mouth with your hand, hoping it would quiet the moans threatening to spill out as you grind against his face.
However, a sharp sting to your inner thigh has you crying out, eyes snapping open and looking down as Remus pulls his head out from beneath your skirt. “No one is here, love. Let me hear you,” Remus instructs roughly, licking his lips before moving back in.
It takes some time and a significant amount of clitoral play before you begin to relax and become more vocal. With the sound of the water dripping from the shower as it continues to soak you both, you’d hope it covered the sound from anyone in the local area as you cry out.
Remus takes his time, building up the pleasure until you’re begging for more. One finger, then two slip inside, curling perfectly as he circled your clit, chasing that high until you’re crying out, pussy clamping down around his fingers as you orgasm.
He didn’t stop curling his fingers until the pulses eased, and you’re slumping against the shower wall. Carefully, he pulls his fingers out, cleaning them with his tongue and then rises to his full height, the shower water now bouncing off his back until only a light mist sprays your face.
Your fingers grip his collar, slamming your mouth to his with urgency, needing to taste him, but mostly to have your own taste flood your mouth as he once more dominates you, his tongue pressing against yours.
“What do you want?” he asks against your lips. “Tell me, sweetheart, and I’ll give it to you. Do you want my fingers?” Remus pushes two fingers back inside, keeping them there until you’re gasping and trying to rock your fingers against him for more friction, dizzy with need. “Or do you want something more?” He presses his hips into your stomach until you can feel the bulge.
You glance down, admiring the outline of his thickness down his thigh, desperate to be free from the restraints of his trousers. “Want all of you. Please,” you mewl, reaching for his cock.
“Good girl,” he praises, removing his fingers from inside of you and turning your body until your face is pressed against the cool tile of the shower walls.
Remus lifts the back of your skirt up and over your hips until it bunches around your middle and eases your underwear down, removing them entirely and tucking them into his back pocket.
“Deep breaths, you’ve got to stay nice and relaxed for me,” he instructs carefully as you hear the sound of his zipper over the trickling of the shower. Your breath hitches as notches at your entrance, trying to push inside of you, but he’s so big it verges on pain as you’re forced onto your tiptoes, pussy clenching so hard, rejecting the stretch and intrusion.
You gasp desperately, clinging to the wall, forehead resting there, palms pressed on either side of your face as he slowly kisses the back of your neck.
“You’ve got to relax, otherwise I’m not gonna fit, love,” Remus soothes.
“I’m trying," you whimper, easing your pelvic floor as the head of his cock finally pushes in, but that’s it as his hips pause.
“Oh, Pup, I know you are trying. Just open up a little more, I know you can take me.” Remus kicks your feet further apart, bends his knees to lower his height and knocks back your hips slightly away from the wall so you’re somewhat arched.
It takes some time, but he eventually can slide further into you, as you gasp at the burn and stretch of your cunt. “That’s it. Fuck, you’re so tight, but you’re taking me so well, aren’t you?”
All you can do is sob around a moan, nodding your head and pushing your hips forcefully back against his until you’re both flushed together.
“More, I need more,” you beg after seconds of trying to accommodate his size.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart," Remus grunts as with one hand he holds onto your hip and the other grabs a handful of hair, pulling your head back and away from the wall, having complete control of your body as he begins to fuck you without restraint.
It feels like he’s trying to poke your belly button from the inside; he’s so deep. It’s overwhelming. Completely blinding with pleasure.
“Who do you belong to?” he growls, nipping your ear lobe with his sharp teeth, hips slapping against yours.
“I belong to you," you cry out, not dampening the noise of your gasps and moans as they bounce off the walls.
A cluster of noises then comes from the door leading into the changing rooms, as casual conversations and laughter fill the showers as the team begins to arrive for practice. You cover your mouth with your hands, pussy tightening to an overwhelming point and attempting to move away.
Remus, however, has other ideas and pushes your body against the wall, keeping you still with his cock still buried inside your cunt. He grips your face, turning it slightly so his forehead rests against your cheek. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” you answer without hesitation.
“Good.”
In a swift move, he's pulling out of you, turning your body and picking you up, your ankles locking around his waist and fucking back into you. “Do you want to know something?” he pants, thrusting into you as much as your body allows as you bite your tongue to stop from crying out. “They all want to fuck you in there.”
The words make you pause as he holds still, his eyes searching your face to gauge your reaction, only continuing when you say nothing. “And I’m not just talking about Sirius and James. I mean the rest of their team. They all want to get their grubby hands inside your pretty little pussy.”
Remus’ words make you feel more embarrassed than flattered, and he senses the shift in you as he kisses along your jaw. “Don’t worry, my love. We won’t let them anywhere near you, but I think they all need a reminder of just who you belong to. What do you think?”
He thrusts in again sharply as you don’t filter the loudness of your moan. “Yes,” you pant, beginning to roll your hips, encouraging him more.
“Yeah? You want them all to know you’re mine? That you belong to James and Sirius?”
“Yes!” you say in a higher volume as he continues to fuck you harder and harder, as your eyes close, savouring the thrusts.
“Say it. Say who you belong to, let them hear.”
“You, Remus! I belong to you! Oh god!” you cry out, eyes focused only on his face as he looks at you with such adoration.
“Such a good girl. Feel so fucking good to be inside of you. You gonna cum for me, love?”
“Yes! Remus, please don’t stop!”
The orgasm is overwhelming, your cunt stretched and pulsing around his girthy cock as you momentarily forget to breathe. “That’s it, beautiful. So pretty when you cum on my cock.” he doesn't stop, just keeps fucking you all the way through your orgasm until he buries his face into your neck and groans deeply, thrusts harder until he stills, spilling inside you.
The two of you try to catch your breath, listening to the white noise created by the shower until he finally lowers you to the floor. It’s only as he turns off the water that you both realise just how quiet it is in the changing rooms now.
“Wait, I need to clean you up,” Remus halts your wobbly steps, pointing his wand at you first and drying you and your clothes from head to toe until the only wetness is the stickiness between your thighs. “Hmm, I like leaving you messy,” he grins, lowering your skirt to hide the evidence of his thorough fucking.
He tucks his softening cock back into the confines of his trousers and then takes your hand, walking towards the changing room, which was your only way of escaping.
“It’s okay, it’s just us in here,” Sirius calls out as Remus opens the dividing door.
Thankfully, he was telling the trust as you find both James and Sirius to be the only ones in the changing rooms. Both in their underwear, flushed from head to toe, a glimmer of sweat across their bare chests and brow and from the streaks of wetness across their boxers, have both just finished pleasuring themselves.
"You two put on quite the show,” Sirius slow claps, his eyes devouring you completely.
“I thought there were others,” you say, somewhat embarrassed as you cuddle into Remus’ chest.
“Oh, there were, but we sent them out to start training early. They won’t be mistaking whose girlfriend you are now, though,” James says, stepping across the room to kiss your cheek softly.
You’re about to ask what had been said for all of this to happen when an almighty crash sounded from above, coming from the Quidditch pitch. “What was that?!” you exclaim, pulling away from Remus and looking at the top of the tent, worried it was going to fall through.
James and Sirius rush to start changing, grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, that? That might have been our part two for revenge. Don’t worry, nothing should be permanent. We hope anyway. Come on, let’s go and have a good laugh.
Life Update
I've been debating posting this because if I do, it feels like I'm admitting defeat, but in the same breath, as time goes on, I feel like I'm making myself anxious about something that is fun! So I've been offline trying to write kinktober; however, I have also declined in my mental health, which is the way of life, and I've been getting some lovely help for it and having time off work. The only thing is that I have absolutely zero motivation to write at the moment. I've only written 7 out of 31 kinktobers in a month, so this is a PSA that I won't be posting kinktober in October. Or if I do, it'll be late and run through November. My plan is to casually write when I get a spark to write, but I've also spent more time lying in bed staring at my ceiling than at my computer screen, so I want to take the pressure off, and you guys have always been so supportive of me when it comes to things like this.
So I'm not disappearing or anything, I just need a little break in the background. I still check Tumblr every day etc and hopefully will be back to regularly posting soon!
Love you all <3
i’d just like to say i think you’re my absolute favorite author ever on this site. you’re truly just absolutely amazing at writing. whenever you post something it honestly makes my day and i’m always very excited to read it. i think you capture all the characters perfectly and the plots and texts are always just so fantastic as well. 💓💓
english isn’t my first (or even second or third) language so i don’t know exactly how to word it, but i just wanted to tell you that. 🥰
I’m so sorry this has taken me ages to reply too! Thank you so so much my love honestly that’s the kindest and biggest compliment ever I really appreciate it ☺️🧡 you’re the best, thank you for your support and reading my fics, and even taking a second out of your day to send me this! Love you!
(Also your English was perfect so don’t worry about that!) 🩷
Knowing those fics from your WIP are already written and sitting on your computer... is a social experiment for me, and I'm the mouse trapped in the cage 🐭💀
Hahahah I’m so so sorry! Idk why I haven’t posted them, I will try and get them up soon though (sorry for the wait 😂) 🧡🩷
Kinktober Masterlist 2025 😈
Hello, lovely readers, welcome to my Kinktober 2025! I will (hopefully on time) be posting every day throughout the spooky month with many different kinks, so please enjoy! Also, read the tags/warnings before continuing.
And yes, I am posting this a month early. I'm hoping putting this out there will give me motivation to pre-write everything in preparation for October!
main masterlists // AO3
♥ Day 1: Bondage - Winter Soldier ♥ Day 2: Overstimulation - Sirius Black ♥ Day 3: Breeding Kink - Rhysand ♥ Day 4: Praise Kink/Femdom - Steve Harrington ♥ Day 5: Mirror Sex - Azriel ♥ Day 6: Uniform Kink - 1940s!Steve Rogers ♥ Day 7: Oral Fixation - Prof!Remus Lupin ♥ Day 8: Size Kink - Cassian ♥ Day 9: Knife Play - Yelena Belova ♥ Day 10: Public Sex - Severus Snape ♥ Day 11: Jealous/Possessive Sex - Eddie Munson ♥ Day 12: Voyeurism - Draco Malfoy ♥ Day 13: Somnophilia - Azriel ♥ Day 14: Forced Orgasms - Lily Evans ♥ Day 15: Pegging - Dean Winchester ♥ Day 16: Cockwarming - Lucius Malfoy ♥ Day 17: Brat Taming - Rhysand ♥ Day 18: Breathplay - Rowan Whitethorn ♥ Day 19: Gloryhole - Steddie ♥ Day 20: Throne Sex - Rowaelin ♥ Day 21: Handcuffs - Jim Hopper ♥ Day 22: Hate Sex - Dark Poly!Marauders ♥ Day 23: Power play - Azriel/Cassian ♥ Day 24: Fisting - Mafia!Stucky ♥ Day 25: Daddy Kink - Jim Hopper ♥ Day 26: Sex Pollen - Draco Malfoy ♥ Day 27: Exhibitionism - Steddie ♥ Day 28: Dad's Best Friend - Joel Miller ♥ Day 29: Edging/Toys - Nesta Archeron ♥ Day 30: Water Sex - Aelin ♥ Day 31: Freeuse- Bat Boys
Hello! I've read the request update and I know they're closed, I'm sending this message to ask if, even though the requests are closed, we're allowed to send questions about a series/one shot. For example, I'd like to ask you for how long you picture reader and Mafia!Stucky have been together since you always mention that they've been together for years. You don't have to actually answer that question, I'd just like to know if we're allowed to do that (with moderation in order to not burn you out even more). With love and appreciation, Tina. 💞
Hello Tina, sorry it's taken me a couple days to respond to this! Yes I'm happy to answer questions, I'm just not accepting any sort of requests at the moment (thank you for reading my rules etc!). But yes, happy to answer questions about series/one shots.
For a quick answer to the timeline for mafia!stucky. Honestly, I've not thought about it that hard, i've been writing it for years so just have a general statement of "theyve been together for years". But to be specific i'd probably say like 5+ years?
james/reader or poly! marauders meet the parents? dm me or reply to this with a post if you want more detail! xoxo
⁀➷ Home // Poly!Marauders x F!Reader
Summary: Nothing is as nerve-wrecking as meeting your boyfriend's parents, let alone during such a wholesome time like Christmas.
Requested by: Thank you for sending me the other message with all the specific ideas! Loved writing this fic, lots of Christmasy fluff! Thank you for the request!
Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, fluff, domestic fluff, comfort, teasing, fingering, orgasms, anxiety
Words: 4.8k
my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link
You’re convinced that the candles that flicker along the walls and ceiling throughout Hogwarts are switched in December to be scented with pumpkin and pine.
The corridors are laced with Christmasy scents, as though the warmth of the enchanted trees from the Great Hall had bled into every drafty corner. Wreaths hung over the archways, some puffing out whisps of snow when you passed beneath them, others produced mistletoe that the boys would drag you beneath at every opportunity.
For now, you’re inside the organised mess that is the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory, flush to James’ side. He’d taken over the end of the magically enlarged bed, folding jumpers into near squares that Sirius ruined every time he reached across to grab something.
“Pads,” James huffed for the fifth time, plucking the scarf Sirius had just rumpled and smoothing it out again, “stop touching her clothes.”
Sirius was sprawled across the blanket in his favourite longing position, long legs crossed at the ankles, one arm propping him up while the other reached lazily for anything within his orbit. “I’m just making sure she’s packing for all eventualities, " he said with a grin that promised mischief. “You never know when you’ll need a short skirt in the snow.”
“Or gloves,” Remus suggests mildly from his perch on the windowsill. His jumper sleeves were pushed to his elbows, mug of tea cradled between long scarred fingers. “Which you still haven’t packed.”
Your mouth opens to insist you had, only to feel Remus’ gaze flick to the half-empty trunk, and you know you were wrong. He didn't even have to get up; a small gesture toward the wardrobe was enough to have you fetching them while Sirius smirked at the domestic choreography.
When you crouched back down, James’ hand slid over yours briefly, warm and grounding. “Almost done, love. Mum’s going to spoil you rotten, you know. Sirius’ll be jealous.”
“Jealous? I thrive on it,” Sirius muses, hooking his chin over James’ shoulder and deliberately pressing his cold nose to his neck just to make him squirm. James elbows him away, grinning, but didn't break the casual touch; his other hand had already found your knee in absent affection.
The wind bit the moment you stepped outside. Snow was still falling in lazy spirals, layering the lawns in fresh white and frosting the trees. Your breath clouded in front of you, and James immediately unwound his scarf to wrap around your neck, ignoring your protests.
“It’s not even that cold-”
“It suits you better,” James says casually, tucking the ends into your coat with a gentle finality. Sirius caught the whole exchange with a raised brow and a smirk before striding ahead to kick a clump of snow at James’ boots.
Remus kept to your other side, one hand light on your lower back as you picked your way down the slushy path to the gates.
Every so often, he would angle his body to block the worst of the wind from you, though he pretended it was so he could hear you better over Sirius and James’ bickering.
At the station, steam from the train curled into the cold air, smelling faintly of oil and metal. James handled your luggage without asking, swinging it easily up the steps. You found yourself ushered into the middle of their little group, Sirius in front with that loose-limbed confidence, Remus at your back, and James practically glowing with holiday energy beside you.
They found an empty compartment halfway down the train. Sirius claimed the entire length of one bench in the space of a heartbeat, stretching his long limbs out with a dramatic sigh.
James settled beside you on the opposite bench, arm draped over your shoulders so casually it might have been a habit, whilst Remus sat to your other side, his knee brushing yours.
Outside the frosted window, the platform bustled with students and floating trunks.
Inside, it was warm, the cushions smelling faintly of fur and wool. James launched into excited talk about the Potter’s Christmas traditions, his mum's spiced biscuits, and the way Sirius always ended up in the snowbank at least once every holiday.
“And then Mum puts this charmed mistletoe in the doorway between the kitchen and the sitting room,” James was saying, hands moving animatedly as he messes with his hair. “Which sounds sweet, until you realise you can't get through without someone kissing you. Pads got stuck there for ten minutes last year before I saved him.”
Sirius smirked lazily from his sprawled position. “Worth it. Don’t forget about Christmas Day Quidditch. Pretty sure I won last year.”
You laughed under your breath, but James caught the subtle shake of your head. “What?” he asked.
“Nothing, it's just that I’ve never had Christmas like this before. My family doesn’t really celebrate anything at home.” You tried ot make it sound casual, but it felt strange admitting it out loud.
Remus’ expression softened, leaning into your side. “Same. The orphanage didn’t do much. A bit of tinsel if we are lucky. Usually spent the day with my nose in a book, pretending the noise was cheerful.”
Sirius lifted his head, propping it on his hand. “I didn’t celebrate either. The Black family Christmas was more shouting than hugs. The decorations were all dark green and silver and cursed to bite you if you touched them. Very festive.”
You smiled faintly, imagining it and feeling sorry for Sirius that he had such an awful upbringing.
He seemed to read your mind, because he leaned forward, catching your chin between his fingers for just a second, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Potter’s Christmas is different, though. It's full of food, and presents, and you’ll just love Mrs Potter.”
“Euphemia, Pads,” James said automatically, reminding him for the fifteenth time today to call his mum by her first name.
“Right, sorry. Euphemia,” Sirius said, grinning like he wasn’t sorry at all, but the tips of his ears went faintly pink. “She's going to fawn over you. They both will.”
James gave your knee a gentle squeeze. “Told you, they’ll be over the moon to have you there.”
Remus’ gaze lingered on you a moment longer before he leaned back, the corner of his mouth tilting up. “You got three of us this year. That's already three times better than any Christmas you’ve had before.”
Their comforting words helped you to relax momentarily into the seat as the train began to move from the platform at Hogwarts.
Hours later, after many sweets, the countryside was already sliding past in a blur of white and grey when you realise the compartment had gone quiet.
James’ voice had faded into background warmth, Sirius was idly flicking his gaze between you and the window, and Remus had that look again. The one where he tilted his head like he was listening to something only he could hear.
“You’re fidgeting,” he said quietly to you.
You blinked down at your hands, which were indeed worrying the edge of your sleeve, “Just thinking about stuff.”
“About what?” James’ tone was light, but his arm had tightened slightly around your shoulders.
You shrugged. “Meeting your parents. Staying at your house. What if they hate me?”
Sirius scoffs, “They’ll love you,” Sirius stated matter-of-factly, as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I’m telling you, it's impossible not to.”
Your laugh came out thin, and Remu’s eyes softened. “You’re shaking,” he noticed, and before you could deny it, James was already sliding his hand down to lace his fingers with yours.
“You’ve got us,” James said, squeezing gently. “Always, love.”
“And maybe,” Sirius added with a slow smile, “we could prove it to you right now.”
Sirius sat up for the first time since entering the compartment and flicked his wand to the compartment door, it clicking shut and the windows turning black as ink so that you were unable to see into the corridor of the train.
James kissed your temple before pulling back just far enough to look you in the eye. “We’re not leaving your side,” he said, voice low and certain. “Not on the train, not at the Potter’s, not anywhere.”
Remus’ knees pressed against yours as he leaned forward, his big hands warm on your thighs. “Let us take care of you for a bit. Distract you.”
Your nod was barely there before James’ mouth was on yours, warm and coaxing, whilst Sirius’ hands slid to your hips, thumbs stroking over the fabric of your skirt. Remus stayed closed, his presence steady, his eyes never leaving your face.
“Up,” he said gently, and the three of them helped manoeuvre you so you were straddling James’ lap, knees pressed into the bench on either side of him.
James kept kissing you like he had all the time in the world, murmuring little praises between breaths. Sirius moved behind you, hair brushing your neck as he tugged your scarf loose, lips grazing the skin there.
“Beautiful,” he praised.
Remus’s hands slipped up your thighs, pushing your skirt until the air met the heat between your legs. One hand stayed firm on your hip while the other trailed up, knuckles brushing you through your panties until you let out a soft, startled sound.
“That’s it,” James encouraged against your lips, smiling at the way you shivered and your fingers dug into his shoulders.
Sirius’ mouth was at your ear now, teeth just grazing the lobe. “You dn’t need to think about anything except us.”
The first slide of Remus’ fingers under the thin fabric made you jolt, your forehead dropping to James’ shoulder. He hummed in approval, lips finding the curve of your jaw, while Sirius’s hand came to rest over your collarbone, his palm warm against your racing pulse.
Remus kept his pace slow and careful, his thumb brushing over your clit until your hips started to move without thinking.
“Good girl,” he said, and you felt James’ arm tighten around your waist at the words.
It was James next who kissed your temple and coaxed your chin up, his eyes full of fondness. “Let him make you feel good,” he said softly as you melt into his hold.
When Remus finally pushed two thick fingers inside, Sirius’s hand slid to cup your jaw, turning your face enough for him to kiss you, more claiming that James had. Remus, as always, knew your body well, curling his fingers perfectly as his other hand pressed down on your clit.
Your hips rolled with the movements, taking him deeper as wetness squelched with each thrust.
“Let go for us,” Sirius's low voice demanded at your ear. Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up, the heat in your belly snapping as you clenched around Remus’ fingers.
James’ hands kept you steady, Sirius’ mouth on yours swallowed your shaky breaths, and Remus didn’t stop until every tremor eased.
They stayed closed afterwards. James’ cheek pressed to yours, Sirius’ hand rubbing slow circles over your abdomen and Remus’ palm still warm over your hip. The touch and comfort felt like being wrapped in a warm blanket as you slumped into their hold.
The blacked-out windows cleared with a slow shimmer, sunlight flashing across your eyes. Somewhere down the carriage, the whistle blew, a long, low note that seemed to pull you back into the world, beyond the little cocoon you'd just been wrapped in.
James helped you to sit back on the bench from his lap, smoothing your skirt and tucking your fingers between his large palms.
Sirius straightened his coat, running a hand through his hair with that lazy confidence, though his eyes flicked over you in a quick once-over to make sure you were steady.
Remus reached past him to grab your bag from the rack, slinging it over his shoulder without asking.
The cold hit as soon as the compartment door opened, even on the warmed platform, nice and three-quarters. The noise was immediate: students calling to each other, parents calling out names, trunks thumping onto the ground.
James spotted them before you did. His whole posture changed, shoulders squaring, grunt splitting wide, his free hand shooting up in a wave. “Mum! Dad!”
You saw them a moment later. Euphemia Potter, wrapped in a deep burgundy cloak, had dark hair swept up nearly under her fur-lined hood. Fleamony, moustache immaculate, eyes behind wire-rimmed spectacles. Both wore the kind of smiles that made you feel like they'd been waiting all year just for this moment.
“Oh, darling,” Euphemia gasped, and before you could react, she’d moved past the boys and was sweeping you into a hug that smelled like wool and cinnamon. She didn't just pat your back, she squeezed one hand cupping the back of your head like she'd known you forever. “James has told us so much about you.”
“Mum,” James groaned, though his eyes were sparkling.
Fleamont clasped your hand warmly in both of his, giving it a firm, reassuring squeeze. “It’s lovely to meet you finally. We’ve been looking forward to it.”
Behind you, Sirius grinned at them both, already leaning in for Euphemia’s Kiss on the cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world, like his parents were only feet away with Regulus, their backs turned and ignoring their eldest son. “Monty, Eddie, you’re still far too good-looking for parents.”
“You’re still far too cheeky,” Euphemia said, smiling fondly before turning to Remus. “And you, Remus, have you been eating properly? You’re thinner than last time. And where is your coat? You must be freezing. Fleamont, give him your jacket.”
Remus endured her fussing with a faint smile, glancing at you in a way that said, see?
James’ hand grounded yours again, fingers curling tight. “Told you, " he whispered low enough for only you to hear. “You're part of this now.”
As the Potters gathered everyone’s bags and started shepherding you toward the exit waiting at the end of the platform, you caught yourself exhaling. The nervous flutter in your chest had eased, replaced by a slow warmth that had nothing to do with the scarf still wrapped snugly around your neck.
Euphemia led you all through the bustle, her hand resting lightly on your shoulder as if to tether you in place.
Instead of heading for a carriage, she steered everyone toward a side corridor that led to a small brick-walled antechamber. Quester, save for the occasional whoosh of emerald flame. A single wrought-iron grate housed a crackling fire at its centre, though the flames didn't seem to burn the hearth.
“Floo’s quicker than taking the carriage all the way back home,” Fleamont explained, setting down one of the trunks with an easy motion. “And warmer.”
James was already stepping forward, eyes bright. “I’ll go first, to meet you in the parlour.”
He took a pinch of glittering Floo powder from the jar mounted on the wall, tossing it into the flames. They roared green instantly, casting his face in strange light. “Potter Manor!” he called, voice clear and confident, before stepping into the fire and vanishing in a whirl of sparks.
Sirius was next, of course, smirking at you as he passed. “Don’t be nervous. Landing is the tricky part, and I’ll be there to catch you,” he winked and disappeared into the flames.
Remus stayed with you, his palm rushing over the small of your back. “Want me to go ahead, or come after?”
You hesitated, glancing between James’ parents' encouraging smile and the swirling green fire. “With me,” you decided.
“Alright,” his voice was steady, the warmth of his hand anchoring you as Euphemia passed you a pinch of Floo powder. Together, you stepped up to the grate, the heat licking at your shins without burning.
“Potter Manor,” you said, trying ot kepe your voice from wavering.
The world spun the second your foot touched the hearth, a wish of wind, the taste of ash, blurred glimpses of other fireplaces whirling past. Then your body landed in the arms of Sirius as you both stumbled forward onto a thick rug, the faint scent of orange and lavender filling your nose.
“Perfect landing,” Sirius mused as he loosened his hold of you.
The living space was warm in a way that went beyond the fire in the grate, deep amber wallpaper patterned with gold, overstuffed armchairs positioned around a coffee table already stacked tall with shortbread biscuits.
James was already sprawled in one of the armchairs, legs over the armrest, while Remus dusted soot from his sleeves. Mr and Mrs Potter appeared behind you, brushing off your shoulders with the kind of gentle fussing that made your throat tighten unexpectedly.
“Welcome home,” she said simply, and something in your chest went soft at the words.
You’re quickly given a tour as warmth seemed to follow you in every direction, your boots sinking into thick rugs pattered in rich colours. The walls were lined with framed wizarding photographs, all moving, all full of smiling Potters.
Fleamont paused now and then to gesture toward a picture, telling a quick story about James as a baby or Sirius’s first Christmas at the Potters.
You didn't notice you'd slowed until James’ hand slipped into yours, tugging you gently onward. “Come on. You've got to see the kitchen.”
The kitchen was, predictably, the heart of the house. A big oak table sat under a wide window overlooking a snowy back garden, every surface laden with something: a plate of cookies, a steaming pot of spiced cider, a load of bread cooling on the counter.
Euphemia was already bustling toward the stone. “Sit, sit. You must be starving after the train.”
Before you could protest, James had guided you into a chair and Siius had dropped into the one beside you, knees brushing yours. Remus took the seat across, the corner of his mouth lifting when Euphemia pressed a mug of cider into your hands.
“Better?” he asked quietly.
You nodded, curling your fingers around the heat. “Better.”
The conversation flowed easily. Felamont teasing Sirius about “stealing” their son’s best broom, James animatedly explaining the elaborate snowball fight rules the Marauders had invented last Christmas, Remus occasionally chiming in with a dry comment that made Euphemia laugh.
You found yourself relaxing into it, the knot of anxiety loosening with each gentle glance from the boys.
Sirius leaned over at one point, bumping his shoulder into yours. “Told you they'd spoil you.”
Later, Euphemia insisted on showing you the guest room, though the term guest didn't feel quite accurate. The bed was enormous, layered in soft quilts, a small armchair sat by the window, and a wave of fresh winter flowers brightened the dresser.
“Made sure it was warm,” she said, adjusting a pillow before turning to you. “And if you need anything, anything at all, you only have to ask, darling.”
It was on the tip of your tongue to say you weren’t used ot people being so attentive. But the words stuck, and instead you just managed a soft, “thank you.”
Back in the hall, James slipped an arm around your waist. “You alright?”
You leaned into him instinctively. “Yeah. Just not used to all of this.”
“Just means you're going to enjoy it even more,” Sirius says from behind you, his voice softer than usual.
The rest of the afternoon blurred into warm, domestic chaos. Sirius was raiding the biscuits until Euphemia swatted him with a tea towel, and Remus settled on the sofa with a book. At the same time, James sprawled across both your laps, Fleamont charming logs into the fireplace until the whole room glowed.
You drifted between them all, always touching one of them, James' hand in yours, Sirius' leg bumping yours, Remus’ arm draped along the back of the sofa.
By the time the sky outside had gone indigo and the fire was burning low, you were curled between James and Remus under a thick blanket, half-listening to Sirius recount a wildly exaggerated story about a Quidditch match.
It was James who sat up first, eyes catching on the frost flittering in the garden. “We should go flying,” he said suddenly, a boyish excitement in his voice.
Sirius perks up immediately. “Finally. I thought you'd never suggest it.”
Remus’ brows lifted. “You're both going to freeze.”
“Worth it,” Sirius said with a grin.
James’ gaze flicked to you, the excitement dimming just a touch. “We won't be long. You sure you’ll be alright?”
Before you could answer, Remus shifted closer, his arm sliding comfortably around your shoulders. “I’ll keep her company,” he said easily. “Go freeze your ears off.”
James bent to kiss your temple, Sirius ruffling your hair on his way past. “DOn’t get too cosy without us,” he said, though there was more donfness than tease in his tone.
And just like that, the front door banged shut behind them, leaving the quiet hum of the fire and Remus’ steady presence beside you.
The manor was noticeably different with James and Sirius outside. Remus hadn’t moved far from where you were curled on the sofa. He’d tucked his ankle over his knee, book balanced in his lap, thought his attention flicked ot you far more than the page. You could feel his haze even when you weren’t looking.
“You’re doing well,” he said eventually.
You turned to him, “What do you mean?”
“I mean. You’re here. You're letting other people look after you. That's not nothing, I’m proud of you.”
Before you could answer, the kitchen doorway filled with Mrs Potter's familiar figure. “Thought I heard voices. Remus, Love, will you be terribly cross if I steal her for a moment?”
Remus shut the book with a soft thump. “Not if you bring her back.”
You followed her into the kitchen, the air immediately richer with the scent of steeping tea and something sweet baking in the oven. She motioned for you to sit at the table, her chair angled toward yours so you weren't sitting stiff across from each other.
“James tells me you’re not much for Christmas,” she said as she poured the two of you a drink.
You hesitated, fingers curling around the edge of your sleeves. “Not at home, no. It’s never really been happy,” you said uncertainly, trying to find the right words.
Euphemia slid a mug toward you and sovered your hand with hers. “Well, this year, it will be. That's a promise.”
It shouldn't have made your throat tighten, but it did. The steam from the tea curled between you, carrying the faint scent of cloves.
“You've got three boys here who think the world of you,” she went on, her tone warm but certain. “And I'm inclined to agree with them. So whatever you're used to, leave it at the door. This is your home as long as you want it.”
You managed a smile, though your chest ached in that unfamiliar way that comes when kindness catches you off guard. “Thank you.”
She patted your hand once before releasing it, just as the back door opened with a gust of cold air sweeping in.
James and Sirius tumbled in, cheeks flushed and hair dusted with snow, arguing about who’d pulled off the better dive. Sirius was already peeling off his gloves and reaching for a cookie, while James leaned down to kiss the top of your head as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“See? Didn’t get too cosy without us,” Sirius grinning, cheeks filled with cookie.
Remus appeared in the doorway, one brow arched. “That depends on how you define cosy.”
~~~~~
The manor was quiet in the deep hours of the night. The heavy silence was broken only by the occasional groan of the old creak of the building in the wind.
Your room, warm under Euphemia’s layered quilts, had begun to smell faintly of the soap you’d use in your evening bath, and your body was sinking toward sleep when the door creaked open.
You didn’t need to look to know who it was.
Sirius slipped inside, shutting the door with deliberate care. His hair was loose, falling into his handsome face, and he was wearing only a soft, worn jumper and pyjama bottoms.
He grinned when your head lifted from the pillow. “Miss me?” he whispered.
“You saw me an hour ago," you responded, voice thick with tiredness, though the warmth in your chest was already excited.
He padded across the rug in bare feet, not even pretending to hesitate before sliding under the covers. The bed dips, quilts shifting as his arm wrapped around your middle, pulling you in until your nose was pressed to his warm chest.
“The hour was too long,” he said simply, kissing the top of your head.
It started with little things, his thumb stroking the curve of your hip through the fabric of your nightshirt, his lips brushing your hairline. You curled into him without thinking, knees knocking his, your cheek pressed against the steady beat of his heart.
When his mouth found yours, it was unhurried, tasting faintly of toothpaste and the cocoa you’d all shared earlier. Sirius kissed you as if he had no intention of stopping. Slow, coiling drags of his soft lips that melted into each other, broken only by the quiet hums you both made when you shifted closer.
“I’m gonna kiss you all night, you taste so good,” he whispered against your mouth before kissing you deeply once more.
You smile into the touch, letting his hand slide lower over your thigh, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch.
The door creaked again.
Sirius didn’t glance up; he just grinned into the kiss as Remus slipped inside, shutting the door behind him.
“Couldn’t resist, could you?" Sirius teased.
Remus didn't answer. He only shook his head with a faint smile and crossed to the bed, climbing on your other side. His body was warm from the shower, his hair still slightly damp as he pressed in, his long arm snaking over both you and Sirius.
“Thought I was just keeping an eye on her,” Remus explained, mouth brushing your temple. “But then I missed both of you.”
The three of you lay tangled for a long moment, your body cradled between theirs, Sirius’ fingers tracing lazy shapes over your hip while Remus’ hand slides along your thigh under the blanket. You could feel the heat of them through the thin cotton of your nightshirt, their quiet breathing syncing with yours.
Another creek.
Sirius huffed a laugh before the door even opened fully.
James leaned in the doorway, hair mussed from sleep, wearing that familiar expression of long-suffering fondness. “I should’ve known you two couldn’t stay away.”
“Join us then,” Sirius said easily, like it was inevitable.
James sighted, more for show than anything, and padded over, climbing in beside Sirius so the four of you were pressed together in a warm, breathing knot.
It began almost by accident, a kiss between you and Sirius deepening, your leg slipping over his hip. Remus’ hand followed the movement, smoothing up the inside of your thigh with a gentleness that made your pulse race. James shifted closer, his fingers brushing your jaw as he kissed you over Sirius’ shoulder, his lips sweet and slow.
The blankets became a cocoon, holding in the heat as bodies shifted. Sirius’ mouth left yours to trail down your neck, the scrape of his teeth softened by a kiss. Remus’ fingers slipped under your nightshirt, spreading over your stomach before easing lower, his palm cupping you with gentleness.
James’ hand was in Sirius’ hair now, pulling him into a kiss that you felt more than saw. Sirius made a low sound, his hand finding James’ hip under the covers, their bodies pressing together as they kissed.
You turned into Remus’ chest with a quiet gasp when his fingers slid beneath your panties, stroking in slow circles. He kissed the top of your head, “Easy, love. We’ve got you.”
The pace stayed unhurried, Sirius’ mouth finding yours again, James kissing along your shoulder, Remus working you open with careful, deliverable motions. When you moaned, Sirius swallowed it with a grin, his hand drifting down to cover Remus, guiding him in deeper.
The three of them moved around you like you’re all in sync. Each touch and kiss flows into the next.
James’s lips met Remus's over your head, Sirius's hand stroking along James’s thigh, your fingers curling into Sirius’s jumper.
When you came, quiet and trembling between them, they kept you close, lips brushing whatever skin they could reach, their hands smoothing over you.
You lay tangled in their warmth, the brady rhythm of three heartbeats surrounding you, the quiet weight of their limbs draped over yours.
Outside, the winter wind rattled against the windows, but here, in this bed, in this house, you’re in a safety cocoon.
You’d never been more thankful for your lovers before; of this new family you’d found and welcomed you in with open arms. You were theirs and they were yours.
Hello lovelies, just a polite reminder that my requests are closed and I'm going to be turning off anon for a little bit as people continue to send me requests, despite it saying "requests closed" everywhere!
Hello! I’m not sure if you are taking requests, but if you are may I please have a Stucky (not Mafia!Stucky) reaction to you getting really badly sunburnt and taking care of you after? Just got back from an all day fishing trip and OMG the pain in my burnt face, shoulders and arms is starting to set in 😭. Was curious how they would take care of reader going through the same thing. Love your works! But if you’re not taking requests no worries!
Honeyyy, it's been so long since you sent this (im so sorry for the delay), but I hope you've recovered from your sunburn! This ended up being more a drabble than anything ~ I hope thats ok <3
The trip was supposed to be a holiday. A few days at the coast, toes in the sand, pretending you were just another couple instead of two men who could clear a room with a single glance.
You’d wandered down the beach, with the breeze brushing your cheeks and the salty scent of the ocean surrounding you, as they “watched the boats.” Aka, they were watching for the importing of goods that had been whispered about through the black market. They weren’t watching to stop it, but to interfere and take the goods themselves.
By the time you padded back up the boardwalk, sand clinging to your calves and sun kissing your skin, Bucky nearly dropped his bottle of beer.
“Doll.” his brows shot up, mouth tugging into that half-smile that usually preceded a teasing quip. “What did you do? Fall asleep out there? You’re glowing, and I don’t mean that in a positive way. Did you forget sunscreen?”
Your composure breaks, shoulders slumping as you hide your flushed face, groaning, “I applied plenty of sunscreen! You helped me with my back! It’s not that bad of a burn, right?”
Steve looked over then, and the humour drained right out of him. He set the binoculars aside, coming over to brush the back of his knuckles against your bare shoulder. You hissed at the immediate burn as he gave you the look.
“Sunburn,” he stated, disappointed, as if you could have helped the way your skin reacted to the beaming rays of the sun. His hand moved to your lower back, careful not to press too hard as you flinched at the touch, as more of your skin revealed to have been burnt, as he moved you towards the villa you were staying in.
Bucky trailed behind, chuckling. “We leave you alone for a couple of hours, and the sun ruins you. How are we supposed to protect you from the sun?! Unrealistic standards for boyfriends these days.”
Even though he was trying to make you laugh, you still felt glum, feel hot, sticky and crisp. “I said I’m fine. I just wanted to go for a walk.”
“Yeah, sweetheart, you always say you’re fine right before you’re not.” Bucky ducked past Steve to open the door, then grinned as he glanced back at you. “At least it’s cute. Kinda. In a fresh lobster kinda way.”
Steve swatted Bucky’s arm as he herded you inside. “Don’t encourage her. She’ll think it’s a joke instead of an injury, Buck.”
Bucky holds his hands up in defence, biting his lip to hold back the smirk, but still flicks a wink in your direction when he catches your eye. That earned him another swat, but by then Steve was already fetching aloe from the bag he’d brought instead of packing.
With you sitting at the end of the bed, he worked the cool gel over your skin in steady, soothing circles while Bucky leaned against the wall, arms crossed and smirking.
“You know,” he drawled, voice full of mock, “if that sun wants to pick a fight, we could take care of that too. Might be a challenge, but I like our odds.”
You laughed despite the sting, and Steve shook his head with a long-suffering sigh. “You’re impossible.”
Bucky winks again. “Nah, just dedicated to my girl.”
And with both of them hovering, one overprotective, the other teasing but no less tender, you let yourself sink into the moment.
Chris Evans with glasses during the presstour of his new movie just has me thinking of mafia!Steve sitting in his office, reading some pages while his girl naps in his lap. YOUR INFLUENCE >>>>
⁀➷ Framed in Sin// Mafia!Stucky x F!Reader
Summary: An ordinary morning takes a turn when a new accessory catches the attention of both you and Bucky. And Steve knows exactly how to use it to his advantage.
Requested by: I have been thinking about this request so much (I'm also sorry for the delay!) My god, this ended up taking a mind of its own, but thank youuuu for this request!!
Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, threesome, douple penetration, cockwarming, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, anal sex, size kink, anal play, rough sex (!), praise kink, glasses kink (obvs)
Words: 4.7k
my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link
The morning starts deceptively quiet in the Rogers-Barnes household. Fresh coffee scent fills the air, as early light filters in through the blinds, painting lazy stripes across the kitchen table.
You’re curled in one of the chairs, knees tucked under you, wearing the light summer dress Steve picked out for you last week, pale fabric with thin straps brushing your shoulders.
It’s Steve’s favourite sight, you looking effortlessly beautiful, barefoot and softly comfortable whilst you nibble on a piece of toast.
Bucky’s at the stone, dressed head to toe in black, a fitted tee, dark jeans, boots that thud against the wooden flooring as he moves. His buzz cut is fresh, stubble shadowing his jaw, adding to the sharpness of his features. He’s cooking, flipping pancakes one-handed whilst his metal arm holds the spatula. He’s humming under his breath, all gentle tones to combat with his tough exterior.
Steve is buttoning the cuffs of his navy shirt; the sleeves hug his forearms, the fabric stretched just enough to make it obvious he’s built for far more than boardrooms and meetings. His hair is in that just barely tamed state, long enough to curl at the ends and fall against his forehead when he moves, the type that makes your finger itch to push it back. The beard is neat but thick enough to give him that older, more dangerous edge.
He admires the domestic bliss of his mornings, kissing you in passing whilst resting a possessive hand on the waist of Bucky as he pours himself a coffee, as Dodger, your Rottweiler, circles his legs.
“Need to pick something before the office,” Steve casually announces as he leans back against the countertop, sipping from his black coffee.
Bucky glances over his shoulder, “Yeah, no worries, we’ll leave in 20.”
Breakfast is easy. Steve steals a bite of your toast between scoffing the pancakes made for him. It’s simple and perfect.
As Natasha’s text informs that the convoy is ready, you wrap your bare feet in simple flats, slipping your hand into Steve’s without thinking as he holds the door open for you. Then you giggle as you watch the passive-aggressive grunts between Bucky and Sam as they both fight for who opens the backseat door for you.
Bucky wins.
The SUV is cool and shadowed inside. Sam takes the back seat beside you, scanning the street through tinted windows. Bucky climbs into the passenger seat, sprawling back slightly, one arm over the backrest and the other draped casually over his thigh.
You can see the edge of his shoulder holster under his shirt, the black fabric stretched tight over muscle.
It’s not a long ride for Steve to drive to the shop as he parks outside a narrow storefront with frosted glass windows, kills the engine, and gets out without another word.
The moment the door shuts, you ask Sam and Bucky, “So what is this place?”
Sam snorts, “It’s the opticians.”
“I didn’t even realise he had any trouble with his eyesight,” you muse.
Bucky turns in his seat to face you directly with a grin, “I have. He squints at every report he reads now, always complaining of a headache at the end of a long day of reading. It’s safe to say our man is getting older and needs some reading glasses. Who wants to bet he’s going to come out with these half-moon old man glasses?”
You giggle, unable to imagine Steve Rogers as a big, beefy, Mafia leader, ruthless and protective, with little old man glasses.
Sam shakes his head with a smirk, “Nah. Full frames, going full Professor Rogers vibe. The kind that makes you think he’s going to lecture you.”
Before long, Steve returns to the car, but the seat blocks your view of him as you’re sitting directly behind him.
There’s silence as Bucky turns to Steve in his seat, his eyes fixated on his face.
“What the fuck,” Bucky says in a rush.
Steve’s tone is casual, almost innocent, “What?” Silence follows from Bucky as he continues to stare at his boyfriend with his mouth slightly agape. Then Steve chuckles low, “Are you hard right now?”
Bucky shifts in his seat, grabbing at his crotch in an unconvincing attempt to readjust. “Shut up.”
“Mmhm,” Steve hums, all smug satisfaction.
You can’t wait anymore as you unclip your buckle and lean forward between the seats, and your breath immediately gets stuck in your throat.
Dark, circular frames that sit perfectly along the bridge of his nose, drawing attention to his ice-blue eyes, now sharper and impossibly clear behind the glass. His hair falls just enough to shadow the frames, framing his mouth in a way that makes it hard to look anywhere else.
He’s dangerous without them, but with them? He looks untouchable.
Your hand moves before you can think, fingers brushing his jaw, thumb grazing the cool metal of the glasses’ arm.
“Oh my god. Steve’s you’re…” the words die on your tongue as you bite your lip.
Steve’s lips curve into a slow smirk, “Yeah?”
You nod, still touching him, unsure how to verbalise just how good he looks. You can see Bucky continuing to stare at Steve at your side, like you’re both hypnotised by how handsome he is and how much the glasses suit him.
From that moment on, you can’t stop touching him, to the point that Sam has to get out of the car to swap places with Steve so that he could sit in the back, your hand resting on his forearm, leaning forward to press your lips to his jaw at every stoplight.
It’s clear that the reactions are not missed by the SU behind as Natasha’s voice comes through the radio in the front seat, “Barnes looks like he’s about two seconds away from climbing into Rogers’ lap. What the hell did I miss?”
Steve just laughs deeply to himself as you cling to him, not stopping any of your movements. If anything, the faint curl of his mouth says he’s enjoying every second of it. And Bucky? Silent, but his gaze never leaves Steve’s profile, eyes dark, jaw tight, shifting in his seat like the air’s too hot.
The convoy pulls into the secured parking lot of the office. Natasha is already out of her SUV, eyes scanning the perimeter with her usual predator’s ease. Sam helps you out of the car, but you barely notice; your eyes are still hyperfixated on Steve.
The circular frames catch the light as he looks over the day’s schedule Natasha hands him, and it’s unfair. The dark lenses make his eyes sharper, more calculating, but they also soften the edges of his smile when he glances down at you.
You’re supposed to follow Sam to the elevator to head to the office, but instead, you slip in behind Steve, your hand sliding into the crook of his arm.
“You look so handsome,” you say whilst tilting your head to admire the glasses from a different angle.
He hums, a slight smirk playing at his lips as he leans down to kiss your temple. “Do I now?”
“Mmhm.” You reach up, running your fingertip along the side of the frames. “I can’t stop looking at you.”
Steve’s hand finds your waist, pulling you closer as you walk through the storage facility in the basement of the building. However, upstairs, Steve moves with the calm precision of someone who’s built an empire from nothing, guards instantly straightening their postures and firming their grip on their weapons.
His office is a mix of elegance and intimidation, a heavy wood desk, leather chairs and a wall of glass that overlooks the city skyline.
Natasha and Bucky are already waiting, folders spread across the desk. Bucky’s leaning back in one of the chairs, with the lazy posture that only partially hides the tension in his body. He’s flipping through an inventory report, but the second Steve walks in, his eyes track him like a predator sighting prey.
Steve takes his seat behind the desk, and you follow without hesitation, right into his lap. He doesn’t stop you as you straddle his thighs, doesn't even flinch, just opens the first folder Natasha hands him and starts reading. One hand holds the pages steady, the other rests on your thigh under the desk, thumb tracing slow circles on the hem of your dress.
You tilt your head back to study him. “You’re so perfect like this,” you say quietly, almost shyly, as your fingers toy with the buttons of his shirt.
“Like what, baby?” his voice is low, deliberate, without looking up from the papers.
“Wearing these, being all boss mode, in this suit,” you muse, nudging the glasses with your knuckle.
That finally earns a glance, his eyes glinting behind the lenses. “Glad you approve.”
Bucky makes a low noise from across the desk, something between a scoff and a groan. You glance over your shoulder, and your breath catches. He’s spread his knees wider, his dark eans tented in the front. He’s not even trying to hide it.
Steven notices, too, his smirk deepening in confidence. “Problem, Buck?”
Bucky leans forward in his chair, forearm pressed on his thighs, eyes dropping pointedly to the place where your dress has ridden up on Steve’s lap. “Not unless you count sittin’ here wantin' you look like that a problem.”
Natasha sighs and drops another folder onto the desk, utterly unfazed. “Inventory first, then you two can climb him like a tree. We’ve spoken about this.”
You fumble quietly, leaning your body against his front, face on his shoulder as you nuzzle into his neck. He turns his head just enough for you to catch the faint scent of cedar and aftershave, the warm rasp of his beard against your cheek.
Bucky shifts again, adjusting himself without breaking eye contact with Steve. The tension between them sparks in an unspoken challenge you’ve seen many times before.
And Steve? He’s loving every second. His fingers tighten on your thigh, and his smile is pure sin. “Patience,” he orders, though you can’t tell if he’s saying it to you or Bucky.
The meeting drags on, and Steve is infuriatingly composed.
It’s been over an hour, and you’re still straddling his lap. One of Steve’s hands is lazily resting on your thigh while the other turns pages in a ledger Natasha has laid out in front of him. His glasses have your full attention as you see his beautiful gaze flick down to you ever so often.
You can’t see Bucky, but you can hear that he is not doing as well with his composure.
He’s constantly needing to shift in his chair, huffing with great sighs and shuffling his papers with anxious afflictions. Every time you move even slightly in Steve’s lap, his gaze glances down, a nd you can practically feel the heat rolling off him.
Finally, he huffs again, pushing his chair back. “I’m gonna use the bathroom.”
The second the door closes behind him, Steve’s chuckling, the sound vibrating through your chest. “You know what he’s doing?” he asks, tilting his head so his lips brush your ear. “Touching himself.”
Your thighs tighten around him instinctively, the words pooling molten heat in your belly. Steve notices instantly, feeling your core press down harder against his crotch as his fingers squeeze your thigh tighter. “That turn you on, baby girl? Thinking about Bucky fistinghis cock in the bathroom?”
You nod, a slight, helpless sound escaping you. Steve's lips pressed against your forehead, taking a deep breath of you in as he moved his hands to cup your arse, pulling your pussy down harder against him. Eventually, with the grinding of your hips against him, he’s able to feel your wetness soaking through the thin lace underwear you’re wearing and pooling onto his slacks.
“Soaking already,” he hums, almost to himself. “And all I’ve done is talk to you.”
You try to sit still, but his firm hands continue to massage your ass and thighs over your dress, until you feel the sensation of the rough callouses on his palm over your bare thighs, slipping beneath the material. You shift forward slightly, the subtle grind of your hips pressing against the hardness tenting in his trousers.
A deep, satisfied hum leaves Steve’s chest. “Go on,” his breath is hot against your temple. “Take it out.”
It used to embarrass you, being intimate in front of others, as you’re somewhat conscious of the fact that Natasha is still in the room, but with the way Steve loves to be exhibitionist, you’re soon used to being like this with others around.
Easing back in his lap, your fingers slip to his belt, undoing it with urgency and need. As the material of his slacks part, and your fingers slip beneath, you’re welcomed with the him of him first, then the weight of him, thick and heavy in your palm. You lift your hips just enough for him to push the fabric of your dress up and your panties aside.
“Nice and slow for me, sweetheart,” he warns.
And then you’re sinking onto him.
The stretch is instant and overwhelming, even with how soaked you are as you bite your lip hard to keep from crying out. Steve is so big, the blunt head forcing your body to stretch and yield around him, inch by inch. It’s a pressure and fullness that makes your head spin, like he’s splitting you apart from the inside.
By the time you’re seated fully on him, your thighs are trembling. Steve’s grip on your hip is iron, holding you still. “There you go,” he praises, his voice husky and low. “Nice and snug. Feel how deep I am?”
You can only nod, laying your head on his shoulder again, as your nails dig into his arms as Steve returns your dress around your thighs.
When Bucky comes back in, Steve is already flipping to another page in the ledger like nothing’s happened. You’re rigid in his lap, face pressed to his shoulder to hide your flushed cheeks.
Bucky leans back in his chair, stretching and then freezes. His eyes flick down and then back up to Steve’s face, then to yours. His grin spread slowly and wickedly. “Oh, doll,” he drawls. “You cockwarming him?”
You bury your face further into Steve’s neck, embarrassed, but Steve only smirks. “Don’t tease her, Buck. You know you’d be in her position if you could be.”
“You’re not wrong. Bet she’s stuffed, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he says, leaning forward, forearms on the desk.
At this point, Natasha makes an excuse to recheck the stock, leaving the three of you in a room filled with unresolved tension.
Steve’s hand slides a little higher on your thigh, just enough to make your breath hitch. “She’s dripping,” he says, almost conversationally. “And she's gonna sit here nice and quiet until I’m ready to move. Seems she likes the glasses just as much as you do.”
Bucky hums, gaze locked on the side of your face, “How ig does he feel, doll?”
The answer comes out in a shaky whisper as your inner walls clench, “Huge.”
Steve chuckles, his thumb stroking lazy circles into your skin. “Bigger than you can take, really. But she’s such a good girl for me.”
Bucky shifts in his seat again, openly palming himself now, watching the way you squirm in Steve’s lap. “Fuck, look at you. All pretty and full.” He then leans back in his chair, his gaze now locked on Steve as he licks his lips, “You’re just sitting there, letting her squeeze you like that? You’re stronger than me, Stevie.”
Steve’s jaw ticks, his arm circling your waist to pull you tighter to his front. “You wouldn’t last five minutes, Buck.”
Bucky tilts his head, smirking and oozing confidence. “Probably not. But I’d make those five minutes count.”
You can feel it, the subtle shift in Steve’s cock, already thick inside you, swelling even harder at the challenge. His body’s tense beneath you, the air between the two men sparking.
“Talk’s cheap,” Steve says, eyes narrowing behind the lenses. “I’ve got her right where I want her. Warm, tight and soaking. She’s all mine, Barnes.”
“She’s ours,” Bucky corrects.
The words punch low in your stomach. Your hips twitch involuntarily as you push your throbbing clit against his pelvis, your body tightening around Steve’s cock in response. His next breath is a low grunt; you feel the deep throb of him inside you.
“Hear that?” Bucky drawls. She likes it when I remind her.”
That's all it takes for the simmering coil to snap. Your body tightens in bursting waves, heat and wetness soaking through you, overwhelming as you orgasm hard around his cock.
Ao hard in fat that Steve’s words die in his throat as he curses, “-Fuck!” his big hands locking around your hips as if to anchor himself. You feel the way your muscles grip him so tightly he’s nearly forced out of your body, but he keeps your hips down with every twitch of your orgasm, trying to milk him.
Your head falls forward onto his shoulder again, mouth open but soundless, eyes hazy and glassy.
Steve’s breathing hard now, one big hand cupping your jaw to tilt your face up to him. His pupils are blown wide, the sharp glint of his glasses framing the heat in his gaze.
“That good, baby?” he asks gently.
You can’t even speak, just nodding, still fluttering around him.
Steve pushes the chair back from the desk, the scrap of wheels on hardwood loud in the quiet room. You remain in his lap, limp and pliant, your dress rucked up around your hips.
Bucky’s already moving, stalking over with dark eyes, dropping to his knees between Steve’s spread legs. His metal hand brushes your calf before curling around your thigh, pushing it open further.
“Let’s see our girl,” he says, voice rough with arousal.
He fists the hem of your dress and lifts, revealing the soaked scrap of fabric barely clinging to your hips. It’s gone in an instant, ripped away with a single sharp tug that leaves the elastic snapping against your skin.
You gasp, still catching your breath, but Bucky’s focus is already lower. He dips his head, warm breath fanning over your bare skin before his tongue slides along the seam of your body, not at your pussy, but further back, teasing the tight ring of muscle at your ass.
You jolt in Steve’s lap, but his arms band around you, holding you still.
“Easy. Let him work,” he encouraged at your ear, his arms remaining safe and securely around your back.
Bucky hums low, the vibration sinking into you as his tongue flicks over you again. He works you open slowly, alternating licks with the slow push of his finger, the cool slide of metal followed by the warm press of fresh as he switches hands.
All the while, his gaze keeps firmly on Steve’s.
Steve meets it head-on, smirking faintly, adjusting his glasses with one hand while the other strokes your side. “Enjoying yourself down there, Buck?”
“More than you can imagine,” Bucky growls, curling his finger inside you just enough to make you gasp and try to hump back against his face. “Gonna get her ready for me, all while you sit there looking like that.”
Steve chuckles darkly, “You keep staring at me like that, and she's not gonna be the only one getting fucked.”
The tension between them hums like a live current, every word and glance shooting straight through you. You're already trembling again, the fullness of Steve inside you mixing with the slow, decadent invasion from Bucky’s mouth and fingers until you can barely breathe.
Buck's mouth leaves you with a wet, obscene sound, and before you can catch your breath, his hands are on your hips, dragging you forward just enough to line himself up.
The first push is slow, unbearably slow, until the thick head of his cock breaches you. Your whole body jerks in Steve’s lap at the intrusion as you cry out.
It’s too much, you're already so full of Steve you can feel every throb of his pleasure, and now Bucky is stretching you in the opposite direction, filling you where you’ve been worked open just moments ago.
Your hands fly to Steve’s wrists, nails biting into his skin. “It’s too much, “you pant, the words high and shaky.
Steve leans down, lips brushing your ear. “No, baby. It’s perfect.”
Bucky's voice is a growl behind you, “You can take it, hot mama, I know you can.”
He presses forward until his hips are flush with your ass, the stretch stealing the breath from your lungs. Your body’s caught between them, completely pinned, and they hold you there, Steve’s big hands gripping your waist, Bucky’s fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise.
The first thrust is slow and measured, Bucky’s angle limited by the way Steve’s still seated in the leather chair. He’s half kneeling behind you, the low position making his thighs burn as he pushes forward, withdrawing only enough to slam back into you again, each movement forcing you deeper into Steve’s lap.
Stev’s head tilts back against the chair, but his gaze stays locked on Bucky’s/ the glasses frame the icy intensity of his stare, and Bucky meets it without flinching. They lean forward until their foreheads touch, breath mingling, eyes locked while your body rocks between them.
The room is thick with heat, your whimpers layered under the low groans of both men. Steve’s thumb rubs lazy circles into your side, but his grip is iron.
Then Buckys teeth flash, and they're on each other, mouths crashing together in a rough, biting kiss. Steve's hand comes up to the back of Buck's neck, dragging him closer, the sound of it raw and wet. They kiss like they're fighting for ground, licks, eeth and growls, all while they keep fuckigy you, every thrust from Bucky shoving you further down onto Steve’s cock.
When they break apart, you're caught in the middle of it. Steve tilting your face up to kiss you, deep and claiming, while Buckys mouth trails down your neck to your shoulder, before he takes your lips next.
They take turns, passing your breath between them, until you're gasping, your head spinning from the overload.
Bucky pulls back just far enough to look at you, and then Steve again. His voice is hoarse, almost desperate. “It's not enough, I can’t get deep enough.”
Steve doesn't need any further encouragement/ he stands, still buried inside you, and your legs wrap around his waist on instinct. In two long strides, he crosses the room to the couch against the wall, lying back and pulling you with him until you're sprawled against his chest.
Bucky follows immediately, climbing onto the cushions behind you. His knees wedge against the couch back for leverage, and the moment he lines up again, you know this is different; he has more purchase now, more room to move, and his first thrust is deep enough to knock a broken moan from your lips.
“Fuck!” Your hands scramble for something to hold onto, finding Steve’s shirt, bunching the fabric in your fists. Steve’s arms wrap around you, locking you in place as he grinds up into you with each of Bucky’s brutal thrusts.
Bucky's rhythm is merciless now, hips snapping forward without restraint, each thrust of his cock punching the air from your lungs and forcing Steve’s deeper at the same time. You're stretched to the edge of what you can take, caught between the two of them, and every nerve is alive.
It builds before you even realise it's happening, the pace, the weight of them inside you, the heat. Your body's stung so tight it's almost painful, every thrust from Bucky shoving Steve deeper, every grind from Steve shoving Bucky back.
And then it hits.
The orgasm tears through you so violently that it steals your breath, your whole body locking up around it. Your nails dig into Steve’s shoulders hard enough to leave crescents, your legs trembling as your vision goes white.
“Oh my god!
The words break apart in your throat, lost under the sheer force of it. Steve’s voice cuts through, low and steady in your ear. “Breathe, baby. Just breathe for me.”
Buck's hand spreads wide on your stomach, holding you down through the spasms. “That’s it, pretty girl. Let it happen. You’re doing so good for us.”
And you do, you can’t stop it. Liquid warmth floods between you and Steve, soaking his thighs, his suit pants and the couch beneath as you squirt each internal clench. The sound is wet, and the way they both growl at once tells you they know exactly what you've done.
Your body jerks with aftershock, every nerve alive. The pleasure teeters dangerously close to pain, and you flick when Buckys hips roll forward again.
“Too much,” you gasp, turning your face into Steve’s neck.
Bucky freezes instantly, his hands gentle as he eases out of you. “Alright, doll. You did so well. You're perfect, we’ll be careful, ok?”
Steve kisses the top of your head, murmuring softly, “So proud of you, just breathe, we’ll talk when you're able too.”
When you finally open your eyes, you're still slumped against Steve’s chest, his cock heavy and hot inside you. Their air is thick with scents of sex. Buck's gaze flicks to Steve, then back to you over your shoulder. “You want to just watch for a minute?”
Yorulips part, your voice still shaky. “No. I want to keep going, but it’s too much having both of you at the same time. I… I want you to fuck him, while he’s still inside me.”
Steve’s brows lift slightly, that sharp glint in his eyes behind the glasses, but he doesn't argue. Bucky's grin is verging on feral. “Yes, ma’am.”
In a flash, he's ripping the rest of Steve’s soaked trousers down, baring the thick length of him where it disappears inside you. Bucksy's hand works quickly, slick with spit, a couple of practised strokes as he feels between Steve’s legs, but Steve catches his wrist, panting heavily.”
“No, I like it raw, just fuck me already, I’m already so close.”
Bucky grins, kneeling between Steve’s spread legs, “figured you would, handsome.”
The first push has Steve grunting, his teeth gritting as Bucky forces his way in. The strength pulls a sound from Steve’s chest that you've never heard before, deep and rough, and the involuntary thrust it causes drives his cock harder into you.
You gasp, your whole body jolting at the sudden, brutal depth. Steve’s breath is hot against your ear. “Feel that, baby, that's him since me, fucking us both.”
Buck's hands clamp onto your hips, using you as leverage as his pace builds into hard, driving thrusts. Each one forces Steve deeper inside you, the thick length dringing against spots so sensitive it makes your toes curl.
The rhythm is relentless, Bucky using Steve's body to fuck you both, the couch creaking under the force of it. Your cries mix with Steve's low, guttural groans and Bucky's sharp exhales.
The tension coils tight again, far too soon. You're right to the edge, every nerve raw, and you know they are too.
Buck's voice is a rasp as he pants, “Gonna make us all cum, doll.”
Steve’s grip on your hips is bruising now, “Do it, now, Bucky.”
It’s messy and chaotic. Bucky is driving deep into Steve, Steve’s cock shoving into you harder with every push. Your climax crashes into you again, muscles clenching so tight around Steve that his release follows hot and deep.
Buckys' shout is ragged, his final thrusts grinding all three of you together before he spills into Steve, hips jerking through the aftershocks.
When it's over, you all collapse into the couch in a tangle of limbs. Steve's arms wrap around you instinctively, pulling you in against his chest, his breathing still rough. Bucky drops down beside you, one big hand stroking lazy circles into your thigh.
The world feels muted now, only the steady thud of Steve’s heartbeat against your back and the faint press of Bucky's palm ground you in the haze.
Bucky glances up at Steve, eyes catching on the frames that have somehow stayed perfectly in place through all of it. “These stay, every time. It’s non-negotiable.”
Steve huffs a quiet laugh, “noted.”
You hum in soft agreement, too blissed out and bone-deep tired to lift your head from Steve’s chest. “Mm, I love the glasses.”
Hiii I was going through aaall your Marvel stories last night and oof - you're massively talented. I've read acotar too so I'm going to dive into them next ;) I was wondering out of all those Stucky stories, do you happen to have a favorite? and do you have something else planned for them?
Much love to you!
hey, sorry for the slow reply, life has suddenly become hectic! Thank you so much for reading lots of my fics ahhh thats so so nice! I also hope you liked the acotar ones, they have a special place in my heart haha
With Mafia!Stucky, I always go back to the first couple of fics as my fav, specifically 'You're mine' and 'Steve's Birthday Wish', just because it was one of the first fics I've written and it just spiralled all of these fics for years (and i just loved possessive steve lmao). Otherwise I liked writing the backstory with "Last Hope", because I felt like I could make reader have more character and individuality. Plus, it felt like it as actually writing my own world and story if that makes sense?
Idk, I love writing, there's always going to be more for stucky and people always send requests for stucky! I massively appreciate all of the support for them!
Would you write Joel x tess x reader?
hey ummm im not really too sure as ive not really been invested in tess as a character therefore not sure i could write her. Sorry! I'd write for joel though x
JOSEPH QUINN & PEDRO PASCAL The Fantastic Four: First Steps Interview | Jake's Takes
diet pepsi
warnings! age gap. dbf!dean. innocent!reader. female!reader. smut. unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it). graphic language. grammar mistakes.
word count! 1.9k
dean winchester was the forbidden fruit you so desperately craved.
he was your father’s friend. your dad helped him during a hunt when they were younger and in exchange, dean helped your family quit the hunters' life. despite that, he still found a moment to come over from time to time for dinner or other stuff like that.
however, lately, his presence has begun to affect you more and more prominently. every time he’d come over for the annual dinner, you’d be sitting quietly in front of him, your thighs squeezed together as you felt the heat pooling in your core, slowly seeping into your panties and making them stick to your skin. he’d ask you things about college and other stuff and you’d just murmur, digging your food with a fork to distract yourself from the infuriating tension in your body.
you needed him.
badly.
but he was your dad’s friend. and the fact that he was feeding into your desires didn’t help.
he would smirk at you, clearly noticing how hot and bothered you were by his presence and behaviour. at this point he could easily recognize when women were attracted to him and you were just so innocent, trying your best to hide your arousal that it didn’t take him long to pick on the visible clues. so he’d tease you discreetly, right in front of your parents. he was playing a dangerous game and you just fell right into it. but you were just so attractive now that you were all grown up, and he couldn’t control himself around pretty girls.
so, he’d caress your leg from your ankle to your calf under the table, making you shiver. as well as brush his hands against your body while passing by, especially against your ass or hands. and you were eating it up every time, trying to prevent yourself from pouncing on him altogether. your body was going through all these new things that kept building up and you didn’t know how to relieve yourself. but you knew who could help you.
dean fucking winchester.
so when you were leaving back to college and he offered to drop you off at the bus station, you were ecstatic as if you won a lottery or something.
cause honestly? you kind of did.
however, as soon as you found yourself in winchester’s impala, your hands clasped together on your lap, you tried your best not to look at him. you could feel the way his gaze was burning your skin even though he was only stealing glances from the corner of his eye. damn, it was actually kind of intimidating, being with him on your own.
“you know, you grew up real pretty, sweetheart,” he hummed, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the steering wheel.
you looked at him hesitantly, the heat wave striking you ten times harder.
he just complimented you.
“thank you,” you responded with a shy smile, fiddling with your fingers.
he turned his head slightly more towards you and fuck, he just wanted to ravish you. his lower lip was caught between his teeth as he took in a sharp breath, at this point, shamelessly ogling you up and down. it was so weird, cause he knew you since you were a child but now you were a grown woman—a very attractive one on top of that. damn, these curves of yours. only recently did he begin to notice that and it’s been hell ever since. but since he was already there once, what’s there to lose?
he could feel his pants significantly tighten, his dick beginning to stir to life, hardening against the inside of his thigh. he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.
i’m just supposed to drop her off at the bus station, he thought to himself when suddenly your voice brought him back to reality.
“you just missed the stop,” you hummed, pointing your finger at the passing parking lot, slightly leaning forward.
dean cursed and turned his head to look at the station now disappearing in the side-view mirror. with a sigh, he turned back towards you, however, he didn’t expect your face to be so close to his. his eyes widened as your lips almost brushed in a kiss. but he quickly pulled away, almost swerving the car off the road. he uttered a short ‘fuck’ under his breath, quickly getting back in the lane and then clearing his throat.
“well, it looks like i’m gonna drop you off myself,” he quickly gave you that cheeky grin and you just nodded your head obediently, a small ‘oh’ escaping your lips as you weren’t sure if you even had it in yourself to protest. after all, that meant more time with him.
and well, it certainly did.
you’re not sure how the situation resolved to you kissing aggressively in the back of his car after he pulled over on the side of the road where cars barely passed. everything up to that point felt as if it was behind a thick fog of lust that clouded your brain and only now was getting released.
“jesus christ, your ass looks so good in those jeans,” he groaned appreciatively, cupping your butt and squeezing it through the denim of your pants that tightly clung to your skin, only accenting your curves. you blushed heavily and hid your face in the crook of his neck, playfully nipping at his skin.
he let out a guttural growl, grabbing your chin and tilting your head back so you were facing him, and then he smashed his lips on yours once again. his other hand was splayed on your hip, holding you tightly as you straddled him, your clothed core rubbing against his hard bulge with every little move you made.
“baby, keep doing that and i won’t be able to control myself anymore. you’re literally my friend’s daughter. what we’re doing now is already bad enough,” he sighed, slightly pulling back so he could stroke your cheek with the pad of his calloused thumb.
“but no one has to know,” you whispered, leaning into his touch.
“baby—” he started but you quickly cut him off.
“please, i need you,” and the way you said it would be enough to kill him. you practically whimpered in such a pleading tone, your hips softly grinding against his erection. at first, he wanted to be strong and resist the temptation, but he simply couldn’t say no to you.
“fine. but not even a word to anyone about it, ‘kay? you’re a big girl, so i trust that you will behave like one too, right?” he hummed, cocking his brow up as he rubbed your lower lip with his thumb.
“yes. i promise,” you nodded eagerly, your eyes immediately lighting up. and the way he smiled at you all proud that you listened to him, was enough to make your pussy ache for his dick.
“good girl. such a good girl,” he whispered breathlessly, pulling you in for another kiss as he turned you around, so you were lying flat on your back, on the backseat.
his hand snaked down between your bodies, easily getting rid of your jeans, and lowering them down enough for him to snuck his fingers onto your panties. he groaned and bit on your lip as his digits were met with a soft fabric dampened with your juices.
“already so wet for me, huh? you were waitin’ for that, baby? waitin’ to be touched like a good little girl?” he chuckled into your lips, the vibration of his voice sending chills through your body and then straight to your core.
he started rubbing your folds with his fingers to which you whimpered, pushing your hips up to meet his hand. however, he stilled your movement, keeping you down with just one hand, his fingers gripping your side and you knew there’d be bruises from them the next day.
“nuh-uh. patience, sweetheart. no rush,” he cooed, slowing the rubbing movement of his fingers.
you huffed out an annoyed breath but nodded, submitting yourself to his will. he grinned and moved his thumb through your slit, stopping on your clit. he pressed on the sensitive bud, making you let out a soft moan. you closed your eyes and bit your lower lip, letting out a needy whimper. dean quickly pulled your panties to the side and while his thumb kept skillfully working you up at your clit, his other hand moved to his hard cock.
he unbuckled his belt smoothly and tugged his pants down along with his boxers, freeing his throbbing length. it hit his stomach, precum already leaking from the tip. you widened your eyes and basically felt your mouth water at the sight of his massive dick. before you could even say anything, he rubbed the head of it against your folds, spreading them apart as he slowly gathered your juices. you panted heavily, holding onto his shoulders as he nudged the head of his cock at your entrance.
and it hit you at that moment—you were about to lose your innocence.
but then again, why did it feel so exciting and your stomach was fluttering so funny?
as soon as he entered your tight passage, you almost screamed, jolting up. dean slowly eased his way inside your wet pussy as it squelched around him, cradling the back of your head as he pulled you close.
“shh, baby. shh, it’s fine. just relax. it’ll feel good,” he soothed you, stopping for a second so you could get used to his thick cock practically splitting you open.
and soon, you relaxed, your muscles giving in and familiarising themselves with each vein that throbbed, deliciously caressing your heat, only making you more aroused.
when he finally started moving, you were making sounds out of the adult movies, windows beginning to fog up with how hard both of you were breathing. at first, dean was slowly rocking his hips back and forth, not really pulling out that much, so you’d get used to how it felt. but as soon as he saw you enjoying yourself, he picked up the pace and started thrusting into your pussy more vigorously, his muscles flexing as he supported himself on one hand, the other holding you close to his body as your cunt sucked him inside eagerly.
“so fuckin’ tight, baby. just for me. you’re such a dirty girl, letting your dad’s friend fuck you in the back of his car. shit, you’re a desperate little thing. but i like it,” he panted and chuckled, leaning down to bury his face in the crook of your neck, his beard tickling your skin as he nipped at it, making sure to leave hickeys and mark you properly.
as soon as he felt your walls began to clamp down on him, he picked up his pace intending to make you cum on his cock.
“dean, i—”
“i know, baby. i know. just let it go. come for me,” he reassured, connecting your lips in a kiss and soon, your pussy squeezed him tightly as your body shuddered, convulsing in an overwhelming pleasure accompanied by your loud moan.
dean groaned and pressed his forehead against yours as his thrusts grew sloppier. he wanted to help you come down from your high, but when he felt the coil in his stomach tighten, he quickly pulled out and came on your stomach, painting it white with his scorching hot and pearly cum.
“fuckin’ christ. that was so good, sweetheart,” he praised, chuckling breathlessly as he kissed your lips again. “and remember…”
“...don’t tell anybody,” you finished, trying to catch your breath.
“good girl,” he smiled and moved a strand of hair out of your sweat-covered forehead.
a/n: dedicated to my lovely and amazing girlie @titsout4nicholas mwah !!
a/n2: lets ignore the diet coke in the picture i couldn’t find aesthetically pleasing one with pepsi💀
༄♡tags: @frosttbitessam @beausling @deanswidow @titsout4nicholas @a1ecmcdowell @figthoughts @deansbite @aileenunfiltered @fitxgrld @angelicp0etry @hrtsoldierboy @artyandink @10ava01 @abellmunsonmovie
Steve Harrington x fem!reader x Eddie Munson [2K]
18+ TW: somnophilia
It was his lips on your bare shoulder that woke you.
An open mouthed kiss and the tickle of his curls on your skin as you shifted, the sheets crumpled under your naked frame as you lay on your stomach. You woke up a little more, blinking into the navy darkness, sleep making your eyes blurry.
The bedroom was a mess, kicked pillows and shoved aside blankets creating grey lumps in the dark, the barely there glow of the street lights that shone through the blinds telling you it was definitely not near morning. Everything still smelled like sex and cologne, a heady mix with your perfume underneath it all and you weren’t sure where your clothes were for the life of you.
It was cosy nonetheless, window just cracked to let some of the summer air inside, a faint breeze that only really added to the warmth. A bubble of still air and bare skin, very touch heightened from how sensitive you’d already been made to feel that night.
You made a soft sound into your pillow, fingers curling into the sheets as someone - Eddie - knelt between your spread legs. He was running a hand across your ass, pushing and squeezing at the plush skin, humming happily when he realised you were stirring. His cock was hard, already nudging at your entrance and you knew from the way you throbbed that he’d been touching you for a while.
“Eddie,” you whined in a pretty, raspy voice that made his cock jump. You were still hoarse from earlier, when you’d cried into your pillow, biting down on the feathers as you were pounded from behind. “S’good.”
The boy leaned in again, soothing you with kisses up and down your spine, his cock sliding in easily as he nudged forward. You whined as he filled you up, your cunt still slick and warm from before. You felt boneless, body laid bare for him to play with but he just growled as you clenched around him, happy to feel your heat.
“Always good for me, sweetheart,” he praised and his voice was as broken as yours. He sounded dirty, grunting every time you pulsed around his cock, his palms grabbing handfuls of your ass to keep you from wriggling away. “Jus’ stay like that, yeah?” He whispered. “Gonna make you feel real nice, baby.”
You nodded, pouting even though he couldn’t see. But you almost cried out into the dark room when you felt the Eddie spread your ass cheeks, a thin line of spit hitting your hole. You could practically sense his grin when you jumped a little at the feel of his thumb, not doing much else but putting pressure on you, getting you wet enough to want more.
You squealed, the noise muffled by your pillow and Eddie snickered, leaning down with his hands on either side of your head. It pushed him deeper into your pussy, your legs spreading on instinct to give him more room. His hips were flush against the swell of your ass when Eddie ducked his head down, nose at your cheek and his voice was downright sinful when he whispered.
“You gonna wake him up, hmm?” A kiss, just below your ear. “You know he loves it when you put on a show for him. Go on, be a good girl, yeah?”
So you reached out, breath already hitching as your hand travelled across the bed, seeking out the warmth beneath the sheets. You found an arm, strong and curled partially under a pillow, a broad back with lean muscles, tanned skin freckled and bed warm. You tugged on the hand that had been used to keep you pinned to the bed early as the owner ate you out, whimpering softly as Eddie started his slow, lazy thrusts again.
“Steve,” you murmured.
Nothing.
“Gotta be a bit louder, sweetheart,” Eddie coaxed. “You know he sleeps like the dead.” He gave your ass a swift tap, grinning at the squeak you made. “Especially when you sucked his cock like you did.”
The reminder made your eyes roll, your lips still puffy and swollen from both of the boy’s kisses and the way you insisted on letting Steve’s cock nudge at the back of your throat for almost too long. So you reached out again, pulling at Steve’s fingers until you could bring them to your lips, already half gone on Eddie’s cock as you let your tongue peel out to touch the tips of them, Steve stirring as you whined his name again.
He appeared from the sheets, legs tangled with them and hair mussed, a pillow crease along on freckled cheek and he blinked at you in the dim light. Steve could just make out Eddie kneeling behind you, leaning back on his ankles as he spread your legs with his hands, keeping your stomach pressed to the bed as he let the head of his cock push in and out of your folds. His eyes found yours, bright and glassy in the glow of the light from the window and realisation hit him at the same time his cock twitched.
“Shit,” he groaned, sleep making his voice thick and rough. He sounded good, so sweet, his movements slow as he shuffled towards you, the smell of his shampoo and aftershave surrounding your sense as he leaned in. “Shit, baby, you guys goin’ again, huh?”
“Couldn’t resist her,” Eddie grunted, the slick sounds of your pussy hugging his cock filling the spaces between his words. “You know what she’s like when she’s sleepin’.”
Steve smiled, sleep warm and still soft, brushing the bridge of his nose against yours as he took his hand from your lips to your jaw. His forehead rested against your own and your eyes fluttered shut, completely surrendering to both men.
“Yeah?” He sounded more awake now but he whispered still, his thumb smoothing underneath your ear. He was so warm, too easy to squirm closer to and Eddie tutted as you tried to wriggle away. “All spread out for him, honey? Putting yourself on show for Eddie, huh?”
You probably had been, unconsciously or not. Still naked and slick from how they’d left you, bites and bruises on your bare skin, bone tired and one leg hitched up to show off every part of you. Playing with each other until you woke was something that had been long discussed, a secret fantasy of yours that you’d finally indulged after three years of being together and two bottles of wine.
“Ass like a fuckin’ peach,” Eddie agreed, his voice breathier now that he was sinking his cock deeper into you. He gave your behind a soft snack, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as the fat jiggled, your cunt clenching around him. “She wants to give you a show, Steve.”
Steve grinned, nudging at your chin until you resurfaced from his neck and he could give you a kiss. He kept it soft and light - too light. Tiny little pecks that had you screwing up your features in protest, one hand fisting at his hair. “Yeah, honey? S’that right?”
You nodded, still gasping against his lips as Eddie rolled his hips into yours. You could feel him nudging deep inside of you, his cock hitting that spot over and over again, a dirty grind more than anything else. You really wanted Steve to kiss you.
“You’re so sweet,” Steve cooed and he was still being so soft, so quiet, his hands tracing down between your breasts, fingers trailing over the dip in your spine. “You wanted me to see how pretty you look when you take Eddie’s cock?”
His words did just as much to Eddie as they did you, Eddie growling under his breath as he raised your hips up, letting the front of your thighs rest on top of his, your cheek pressed flat to the mattress now. He kept up the tiny thrusts of his hips, his cock fully seated inside of you. But now, there was space underneath of your frame, a gap between you and the bed that allowed Steve to snake his hand into.
His fingers found your clit, your folds soaked. You watched his lips make a small ‘o’, surprise and delight in his gaze. “Shit, honey, you’re all worked up.”
You couldn’t say much, just small, gasping “uh, uh, uh’s” falling from your mouth as Eddie fucked you through it. He leaned over your to smooth a hand up your spine, pressing his palm between your shoulder blades as his pace picked up just slightly. Steve matched it, pinching at your clit between rubbing small circles and he finally, finally leaned in to kiss you.
It was slow and lazy like the night had been, like your boy’s were treating you. A languid thing that made your yous curl and your breath hitch, his tongue licking over yours in a filthy, filthy way. He bit at your lip when he pulled away, rubbing your clit a little harder when he saw your eyes screw shut.
“She’s gonna come,” he told Eddie, his own cock pressed hard into your hip. “Oh, oh baby, you’re gonna come real hard, aren’t you?”
You nodded, pulling him closer by the nape of the neck as Eddie leaned back down to blanket himself over you, his hips pressed to your ass as he groaned at the feel of you getting even tighter, his cock twitching in anticipation.
“Please,” you whispered, the plea slurred and muffled as you pressed your face to Steve’s cheek, the need for closeness overwhelming.
“I know,” Steve cooed. “We’ve got you, Eddie’s gonna make you come real fuckin’ good, honey.”
Eddie’s hand curled around the back of your neck then, gentle but firm as he brought you out of hiding, his thumb soothing down the front of your throat. He made you look at Steve as he fucked you, your lips parted, your eyes glassy.
“That’s it, sweetheart, fuck,” Eddie grunted, “lookit Steve, yeah?”
Steve nodded, his free hand that wasn’t teasing your clit joining Eddie’s, wrapping around your throat until his fingers overlapped the other man’s. “Let me see you come, show me what you woke me up for.”
