could you maybe do a college!Peter blurb where y/n gets really tired and falls asleep halfway through a project, so he puts her to bed and it's just really fluffy?
-- clearing out the askbox: peter edition --
“Y/N… Are you sure you want to be working on this right now?”
Peter’s got a concerned frown on his face as he looks up at you. He’s sitting cross-legged in the centre of your living room, textbooks and sheets of scientific formula covering the carpet around him.
“Hm?” You blink a few times, his words taking a few moments to sink in. Peter loves you, and he thinks you look adorable, always, but he can tell you’re tired. As you lay over your sofa on your back, glaring at a textbook, he knows you’re barely awake. You keep yawning, your eyes disengaged as they read the same page, over and over again. “Yeah, yeah… I’m fine.”
It’s halfway through the semester, and it’s reached the point where the two of you are drowning in lab work, essays, and assignments. Peter knows that you’re running on fumes and caffeine, working tirelessly as you try desperately to stay on track with your studies, and as much as he admires you for your strong work ethic, he wishes you’d slow down and rest.
So… Maybe that’s why he’d suggested you study at yours tonight, and he’d spent all evening trying to get you to calm down. He’d made you dinner, given you a shoulder massage - hell, he’d even let you put a face mask on him as he’d tried to get you to relax. But it’d still ended up here - you, settled up on the sofa, indignant that you’re going to get through your readings before you go to bed.
“You’re falling asleep, baby,” he points out.
You tilt your head to the side, your tired face relaxing into a smile the moment you meet his eyes.
“I’m talking to you, so I must be awake,” you reply, quirking an eyebrow, “unless you’re just the man of my dreams.”
Peter snorts, running a hand through his hair as he looks at you, rolling his eyes. “Smooth,” he mutters, drumming his pen on his knee. “Jus’ checking. We can stop whenever you want, remember. Don’t wanna tire you out.”
“I’m fine,” you mumble, bringing your eyes back to the textbook after shooting him a soft smile. “Thanks, though. Love you.”
Peter hums. “Love you too, honey.”
He watches, amused, as you spend thirty seconds staring at the book, before softly relaxing. First, you rest the textbook on your stomach, then you sink down into the sofa, using one hand to bring a blanket over your figure. Next, you reach up and pull your hoodie over your head, snuggling further into the couch cushion and sighing gently. Your eyelids start to droop, and though you seem to try and fight it, Peter hears your heartbeat slow as you drift off into sleep.
He can’t help but swoon as he looks at you, grinning as he takes you in - knocked out, jaw half-open as your soft breaths drift through the air. He immediately puts down his textbook and stands up, pulling out his phone and cooing as he snaps a few shots of you snuggled up on the sofa. He walks to your bedroom as he sets one of them as his new lockscreen, and then he gets to work.
Peter knows your nighttime routine almost as well as you. He knows you like your blinds open but your curtains drawn closed, knows you can’t sleep if your wardrobe door is even the slightest bit open. He tidies up some of the clothes you’d left strewn across the floor, then he moves the books from your bed and organises your bedside table. His final task is pulling back your duvet and fluffing up your pillows, then he walks back out into the living room and pauses by your figure.
Trying his best not to disturb you, Peter gently pulls the textbook off your stomach and then picks you up, his super strength making the task easy. In your sleep, you nuzzle your head into his chest, and he has to make a very conscious effort not to melt right there and then. You are so cute.
He lays you down in the centre of your bed, eyes watching you for any sign of life. You seem to be completely asleep, so he’s quiet and slow as he rolls the crinkling duvet up and over you, tucking it up to your chin. Peter then leans a little closer and brings his lips to your forehead, letting his mouth linger against your warm skin.
“Sweet dreams, baby,” he mumbles, voice soft. He goes to step back, only to startle when you crack open one sleepy eye.
“Stay,” you whine, voice cracking from fatigue. “Please?”
And you blink up at him so softly, how could he ever say no?
“Okay,” he whispers. “Do you need anything before I get in?”
You shake your head, pulling a hand out from beneath the duvet to open it up wide. You pat the mattress, lips quirking into a tired smile. “Just you.”
Peter’s glad that he’d already changed into comfier clothes, and he walks around the bed, closing your bedroom door and turning off the light as he goes. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and plugs it in at the wall, setting an alarm for the morning before finally, finally clambering into bed beside you. Before sinking into the sheets, he pulls off his hoodie, knowing that you always love nuzzling your face against his warm chest.
As expected, the moment there’s a chance, you roll over, clinging to Peter like a koala. You throw one of your legs over his thighs and nestle your head in the crook of his arm, resting a cheek up against his side.
“You’re so warm,” you mumble. “Big teddy bear.” But you don’t settle. You keep shuffling around, not relaxing, and it brings a frown to Peter’s face.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, bringing a hand to rest on the back of your head. It’s dark, but he knows you’ve got a frown on your face.
“Still got my bra on,” you complain, groaning softly at the realisation. “Fuck.” You wriggle again, moving away from Peter completely. He can hear your struggle. “Can’t- ugh, I can’t get it, ‘m gonna have to get up.”
“Hey.” Peter reaches out, hand finding your shoulder. “D’you want me to get it?”
“Please.”
Working in the dark is tricky, but Peter manages to curve a hand beneath the bottom of your hoodie. You arch your back, and his nimble fingers slip up to release the clasp. The moment it bursts free, you sigh contentedly.
“Thank you,” you say, and Peter moves away as you manage to get the straps down your arms and wriggle it from beneath your jumper. He chuckles when you throw it, and then hears the unmistakable sound of pens being knocked over as it clatters over your desk. “Shit.”
“Go to sleep,” Peter urges, turning over to face you. His hands go to your waist, gently rolling you over until you’re settled on your side too, and he loops his arms around you properly so he can spoon you. Peter presses his face into the back of your neck, smiling as you relax into him.
“M’kay,” you say, sighing easily. You yawn, and then you reach down to link your fingers with his. Peter smiles as you roll your thumb over the back of his hand. “Sweet dreams, Pete.”
He kisses the back of your head, the scent of your mango shampoo drifting over him. His heart beats warmly in his chest.
Hihihiiii!!!! Could you possibly do a little blurb where Peter is taking care of a sick reader and it’s just super cutesy and lovey dovey!!? I love your writings sooooo much!!!!!!
Sick and in love
pairing: peter parker x reader
a/n: hiiii !!! thank you so much for the request and for the sweet words🥹🫶 god im an absolute sucker for a good sickfic. also, you get credit for pulling me out of my hiatus :)))) i really hope this is to your liking !!
warnings: none!! just a ton of fluff, unedited (forgive me pls), and the barest tiniest smidge of a suggestive comment, and strand all-over-the-place-weather cause that’s how it’s been where i live lmao she’s a short one, just a little under 2k words
masterlist !!!
“Did you just dodge me?!”
“Peter, no!”
“No you didn’t dodge me? Cause you totally did, honey.”
He leaned in again, causing you to shriek which, with your congested throat sounded more like a choked gargle.
It was that time of year. The snow around campus was just beginning to melt, a few smaller flowers had begun blooming through the cracks in the concrete outside your apartment, and everyone you knew was sick.
Except for Peter Parker of course.
The weather was a bipolar thing lately, as it always seemed to be around this time of year. One day was clear skies and the softest of breezes, and you could almost bring yourself to believe spring was kicking in.
Almost.
It was a thought you knew better than to commit too since—after that one day of beautiful reprieve—you’d been hit with almost an entire week of nonstop rain, wind, and pure misery given form. Because now you, and many others, were sick as dogs.
“No, Pete, I did dodge you because you can’t kiss me like this!”
“I find that highly offensive you know, I can’t believe the love of my life is doubting my skills. Honey, I can kiss you anytime, anywhere. I thought I proved that with that upside down kiss a few weeks ago on your fire escape.”
And being sick as a dog, naturally, you were stuck in bed. The space around you had been cluttered with dirty tissues, half-drank tea mugs, and an ungodly amount of cough drop wrappers. Maybe as a stroke of bittersweet luck, you’d gotten sick just at the beginning of break. While you were glad you didn’t have to worry about classes while facing death’s door with every sneeze, you resented this horrible illness for sabotaging what was meant to be a relaxing, simple break for you.
But here he was, Peter Parker, sitting by you with an adorable grin and completely unfettered.
Peter had come by earlier today after not hearing from you for over 24 hours. At first he’d just thought you were enjoying the start of your break with a nice, long, well-deserved nap. But then the worry had set in and he found himself at your apartment, letting himself in with the spare key you’d gifted him a few months ago.
It had been quiet, too quiet for you. No sound of your favorite bluetooth speaker softly blaring whatever it was you were into that week, no peep from the Tv or your laptop playing your favorite shows. It shouldn’t have been all that surprising to him when he approached your bedroom to find you passed out, surrounded by your little sick-nest. Sure enough, when he pressed his palm to your forehead to gauge your temperature, he was met with a troublesome warmth.
Of course, he’d gotten to work immediately, moving silently and efficiently at your side. He kept his hearing trained on your heartbeat and your breathing, searching for any irregularities that might indicate you were awakening, or worse, your condition was growing worse.
He wasn’t sure if you’d taken any medicine, doubted it since the mess around you lacked any real medicinal products that weren’t glorified candies. So he’d gotten that ready for you as well, waiting for you to wake up so he could see those pretty eyes blinking up at him.
And that was how you got here, a brand-new-just-opened-pill-bottle targeting fevers, aches, and headaches sitting on your now-clean nightstand, a nearly empty glass of water, and a pouty Peter craving kisses you refused to give.
“You can’t kiss me. I’m…contagious,” you mumbled, looking away.
His face fell in a way that would’ve made you laugh if you were feeling well. “You can’t be serious, sweetheart. If there is anyone in the world you don’t have to worry about contaminating, well, it’s me!”
A huff of breath escaped your lips. You knew that, of course. Stupid silly spider-genes of his. You’d actually never seen Peter sick ever since you met him. Beat up, bruised, and bleeding, sure. But sick? Never.
“Petey,” you whined, hands coming up to cover your flushed face. “I’m so gross right now. I’ve got snot for brains.”
The sound of a soft scoff met your ears and you could just picture the look on his face right now. The same kind of look he got whenever you worried about kissing first thing in the morning because you haven’t gotten the chance to brush your teeth, or when you got shy undressing in front of him because you hadn’t shaved in a while.
The look that said that none of that mattered, nor would it ever matter to him.
A pair of strong, gentle hands gently curled around your wrists, tugging your hands away from your face. “I resent that take, sweetheart.” His soft voice said. “I could never find you gross. You are the sweetest, prettiest, beautifulest, most spectacular woman I’ve ever met. You think I wouldn’t want to kiss you just cause you’ve got a runny nose and a low fever? Think again, honey, I literally picked up all your snot napkins.”
“Peter!”
“What?” He said with a soft laugh. “I’m just saying surely that’s got to count for something.”
You laughed, which you assumed was his plan this whole, but it quickly backfired when it turned into a fit of coughs.
“Easy, easy, honey,” he murmured softly to you, helping you lay back against the pillows, one hand brushing hair away from your face. A thin frown was etched onto his expression, a face you rarely saw Peter wear, especially around you.
His hand that’d been brushing your hair back came down to cradle your cheek, and you knew he was gauging your temperature again. “You’re still a little warm,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “Not as bad as earlier but it’s definitely still there. You’re not set for your next dosage until about two hours. But we should definitely get some food in you before then.”
If you were well, this would be the part where you made a sly comment about him being your meal, and perhaps dessert as well. But alas, nature had other plans for you, and right now all you could do was stare up into his soft brown eyes and wonder how anything could be so beautiful.
And Peter seemed to notice your distraction. “Hello,” he murmured, a finger coming up to poke your cheek in a playful manner, “earth to my girl.”
My girl.
The nickname made you shiver in a way that had nothing to do with your fever.
“I heard you,” you replied.
“You sure? ‘Cause it seemed like you were elsewhere for a moment there. Am I underestimating how bad this fever is?” He cocked a questioning brow at you.
“Nope. I feel…decent right now. Better than earlier, at least. I just…I was admiring how pretty your eyes are. I’ve never seen a shade of brown that bright.”
The grin that bloomed on his face rivaled any of the spring flowers you’d begun to see bloom outside lately.
“You really need to watch yourself, sweetheart. You can’t sweet-talk me like that if you’re dead set on not allowing any kisses.”
Your own grin blossomed on your face, though more tired and slightly weaker than his. “M’sorry, Petey. Can’t help it I’ve got the most handsome man in the city.”
“Just the city?”
“Well…it is a little big. Certainly the zip code though.”
“You’re a menace,” he laughed quietly, leaning over to press a reverent kiss to your cheek, which you happily allowed.
“But you still cleaned up my snot napkins.”
“And I would again, in a heartbeat.” He said it so softly, with so much adoration in his cadence, that it almost seemed he was swearing a vow to you.
You shut your eyes, leaning into his touch. Your nose was stuffed, throat sore and scratchy. But it was alright as long as he was with you.
“Okay, what do you want to eat?”
A squawk of protest almost slipped from your lips when he pulled away, and you knew he’d noticed your disappointed look when he poked your nose.
“I’m sorry, honey, but I’ve gotta make sure you eat something. When was the last meal you had before I found you here?”
Your silence spoke louder than any words.
“Exactly,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “What am I gonna do with you, sweet girl?”
“Cuddle?” You attempted weakly.
“Ha! Nice try,” he answered with an amused smile. “And we’ll definitely get there, but food first. Now what were you thinking? Because I was planning on some nice, classic chicken noodle soup. May always made the best batch whenever I was sick, it’s one of the only things she doesn’t butcher in the kitchen.”
“Peter, just lay down with me,” you huffed. “We can order takeout.”
Now it was his turn to huff. “If you think I’m gonna let my girl eat takeout when she’s sick and I am perfectly capable of making her a nice home-cooked meal, then you are sorely mistaken, my love.”
It was no use, you weren’t winning this argument. It was actually endearing beyond words the way he was so hellbent on taking care of you and making sure he assisted you in anyway to make this fever a little easier on you.
“Chicken noodle soup sounds good,” you mumbled finally, your stomach already grumbling at the thought. He’d been right, you hadn’t cooked at all since you’d been struck with this unfortunate illness. But it wasn’t your fault! You were sick! How could you still be expected to cook when you were coughing and sneezing every other breath, not to mention running a fever.
“That’s what I thought,” he said, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Then it’s medicine and bed for you.”
“And cuddles, right?” You questioned seriously, hand coming up to clutch his sleeve before he could pull away too far.
“Yes, of course. All the cuddles you want, I’m staying all night.” He certainly couldn’t leave you like this, not when he’d already gone so long without even knowing you were sick in the first place. No, the city could do without Spider-Man for the night.
You hadn’t known how much you needed to hear that until the words left his mouth. “Petey?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Can you add extra carrots to the soup? And extra noodles?”
“Absolutely. Any other requests, honey?”
“Hurry so you can come back.”
“On it. You just rest, sweetheart. Sleep if you can, I’ll wake you up when the food’s ready.”
“Okay, I’ll try. Pete?”
“Love of my life?”
“I really love you.”
His smile grew, that dimple you loved so, so much forming on his left cheek. “And I love you, honey. So, so, so much.”
hi !!! to anyone who read this, thank you, lol. ik im not the most active on here and i pop up, post a few times, and dip😭 I know my page says requests are open and that IS true, there’s just no telling when i’ll get to it. but sometimes i'll get a request like this and feel a burst of inspiration, so if you wanna take your shot pls feel free to ! <3 lots of love ~ cherry🍒
(also if you wanna talk brand new day trailer or the new supergirl trailer my ask box is open👀)
poly!marauders (minus peter, im sorry pete) first time with you, I BEG
having sex with poly!marauders for the first time *. ⋆4k words
cw: (it's ovulation week, iykyk) smut. fem!afab!reader. piv. unprotected sex. creampie. praise. dirty talk. they all take turns. light choking. light overstimulation. fingering. oral sex (male!receiving, like, A LOT) small aftercare at the end. lmk if i missed something!
a/n: yeah... i got a bit carried away. i just couldn't help myself:)) anyway, thanks for requesting and hope you enjoy it, lovie. remember english isn't my first language!
it starts with warmth.
you’re tucked between them, half under james’ arm, your back pressed to remus’ chest, sirius is sprawled at the foot of the bed like he owns it—which, technically, he might, judging by the way his smirk lingers even when he’s pretending to be tired. the night is quiet except for the faint rustle of sheets and their breathing surrounding you from every direction.
james’s thumb traces shapes into your hip, not quite suggestive, but enough to make your skin buzz with the thought of where it could lead.
“y’comfy, love?” he murmurs against your temple, voice so warm it makes your heart ache.
remus’ palm smooths over your stomach from behind, his touch steady, grounding. “you’re safe,” he says softly, like he can sense the quick beat of your heart.
sirius’ voice cuts through the gentleness with a lazy chuckle. “she’s more than comfy, prongs. look at her, she’s practically glowing.” he props himself up on an elbow, eyes glinting in the dim light. “think she knows what she’s gotten herself into?”
you swallow, lips parting. “i… think so.”
james grins, the kind that makes you feel like the most adored thing in the world. “good girl.”
remus’ hand slips lower, brushing the edge of your sleep shorts. “only if you want this,” he murmurs into your hair, low and certain. "we don’t wanna rush you.”
but you do want this. you’ve wanted it with them for longer than you can remember. so you nod, watching sirius’ smirk widening, and remus’ hum quietly in approval.
james kisses you first, slow, tender, with his hand cupping your jaw like he’s memorizing the shape of you. sirius’ lips find your neck at the same time, playful nips turning into wet, teasing kisses. remus’ breath is warm against your ear as his fingers push past the waistband of your shorts, stroking over your thigh.
it’s overwhelming, but in the best way—three bodies pressing in, three sets of hands, three voices pulling you deeper into them.
james’ hands are warm where they cradle your cheeks, his thumbs stroking the damp skin under your eyes from where you’d been blinking up at him. his mouth is on yours again—gentler, like he’s memorising the taste of you before the night truly spirals. he kisses you like he’s never been allowed to before, like he’s finally been let inside the place he’s been aching to be, and it’s almost dizzying.
sirius groans from where he’s settled himself at your other side, his teeth catching your earlobe. “merlin, she tastes good, doesn’t she?” his voice is pure filth, and you feel james chuckle against your lips.
remus, still behind you, rubs broad, steady hands up and down your arms, grounding you in the chaos. “breathe, love,” he murmurs in your ear, voice like honey. “we’ve got you. you’re doing so well already.”
james pulls back just enough to let you catch your breath, though his forehead stays pressed to yours. “you feel safe, yeah?”
you nod, and sirius huffs a low, wicked laugh. “safe enough to let me get my hands on you?” his fingers trail over your stomach, then slip lower, teasing over the waistband of your shorts.
remus’ lips graze the shell of your ear. “say the word if you want him to stop. you’re in control, sweetheart.”
you whimper—because control feels like the last thing you have—and sirius takes that as permission. his hand slides into your panties, his rings cold against your skin until his fingertips find the wetness between your thighs. he swears under his breath. “fuck, you’re soaked.”
james’ cheeks flush, his hand still cupping your jaw as he watches sirius’ hand move. “bloody hell, pads—don’t tease her.”
sirius smirks. “not teasing, just… appreciating.” he strokes your clit in slow circles, his palm flat against you so you can’t wriggle away from the heat.
remus tips your head back against his shoulder and kisses your temple. “let yourself feel it, love. don’t think about anything else right now.”
you moan when sirius dips two fingers inside you without warning, curling them just right. james leans down to capture the sound in another kiss, groaning against your mouth. “that’s it, gorgeous,” he breathes, “want to hear more of those.”
sirius’s fingers work you open while remus’s big hands keep you steady, and james… he kisses you like it’s killing him not to touch you everywhere at once.
you feel surrounded, claimed, spoiled, and the way they’re taking turns with your body makes your head spin.
james’ hands are everywhere now, warm and big, spanning your hips and keeping you pressed to remus’ chest, his mouth hot at your ear. both their voices are a sinful rasp, telling you in filthy detail how good you feel, how good you’re soaking sirius’ fingers, how you sound like you were made to be fucked like this.
remus’ voice cuts in, softer but no less wrecking. “you’re doing so well, love. don’t hold back.” his thumb strokes soothing circles into your thigh, but his other hand slides up, cupping your jaw and tipping your head so he can kiss you—slow but steady, like he’s trying to anchor you while sirius and james take you apart.
you gasp when sirius’ fingers rub against a sensitive spot inside you, your body twitches at the same time you feel james’ hand joining sirius’ under your clothes, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing deliberately, each movement perfectly timed with sirius’ assault to your cunt.
“oh, she’s shaking already,” sirius purrs, and it’s not a question. his tone is gleeful, shamelessly proud of the way your body responds. “can feel her squeezing my fingers.”
james groans against your neck. “merlin, you’re perfect. so warm, so slippery, sweetheart.” the praise sinks into you like heat under your skin, mixing with sirius’ filth until you can’t tell whether you want to hide or fall apart for them completely.
remus finally pulls back from the kiss, lips damp, eyes dark. “let her feel all of us,” he says quietly, and you barely have time to process before sirius is shifting, his fingers abandoning the heat between your legs while you watch james slip his cock out of his brief boxers, wet and flushed. the sudden emptiness makes you whimper—only for remus’ fingers to take his place, slow and deliberate, filling you to the hilt until you’re gasping his name.
the pace changes—remus finger-fucks you deep, controlled, each thrust purposeful while james kneels in front of you, his cock heavy and leaking precum hanging so close to your face you could touch it if you sticked out your tongue.
“come on, darling,” he says softly, offering himself to your mouth. sirius’ hand is at the back of your head, gentle but insistent, helping you take james in as far as you can.
remus groans behind you, feeling your body rock against his just enough to make you choke around james with the movement, and sirius laughs low in your ear. “that’s it, gorgeous. such a good little mess for us.”
you’re half-gone already, spit slicking your lips, your body rocking between them, remus’ praise grounding you in between filthy little asides from sirius that make your stomach twist with heat. james’ hand strokes your cheek as you take him, murmuring “perfect, just like that” while remus fucks his digits into you steady and relentless.
every nerve feels raw, every sound sharper—their groans, sirius’ filthy encouragement, remus’ soothing little hums, james’ gasping praise.
you can feel the pressure on your lower stomach, that heat expanding through your spine from your head to your toes. your moans get somehow louder, still muffled by james’ rock-hard cock slipping in and out of your mouth, the fire inside you burns, it burns so much it nearly hurts—but in the most delicious way. your hands perch at remus’ thighs at your sides, nails digging into his skin as you feel the orgasm coming harder than ever, you’re almost there, almost reach that sweat, exquisite peak and—
remus’ fingers leave your cunt, pulsing and slick, at the same time james pulls back just before coming, leaving you breathless and whining, spit running down your chin and arousal coating the skin around your pussy.
“don’t get ahead, love” remus murmurs, his breath mingling with yours. his palm slides over your stomach, settling just above where his fingers where exploring mere second ago. “you’re going to let us take care of you, yeah?”
even after all that you nod, a little dizzy from the overstimulation.
sirius grins like he owns you already. “that’s my girl.”
james’ gets on his knees in front of you, his mouth finds your nipple as soon as your shirt leaves your body. his warm, wet tongue circling before sucking slow and deep. his other hand squeezes your hip.
he moves lower, his lips brushing over your sternum, the flat of his tongue dragging down between your breasts. he pauses to glance up at you, eyes molten. “you taste as good as you look, angel.” his voice is so steady, so low, that it makes your belly tighten.
sirius takes james’ hair in his hand, dragging him away from your body with little force, and looks between your legs with unabashed hunger. “prongs, move over. i want her mouth on me while you keep those pretty fingers busy.”
the shift happens fast—sirius sits back against the headboard, cock thick and flushed in his hand, and you’re guided forward until you’re kneeling between his legs. james is behind you now, his big hands stroking over your hips, while remus stays sprawled on your side, smirking like a devil.
sirius cups your jaw, guiding the head of his cock to your lips. “open for me, doll,” he says, voice wrecked already. “let me feel how warm you are.”
you part your lips, taking him in, and he groans, head falling back. james’ fingers are now back inside you, fingering you relentless from behind, and you see from the corner of your eye remus stroking his meaty, leaking cock at the sight of you—full, used, worshipped.
“good girl,” sirius breathes, watching you with half-lidded eyes as you take him deeper. “so perfect for us.”
his hand tightens in your hair, pulling your head back just enough to meet his eyes. “fuck, look at you,” he says, his voice hoarse. “drooling on me while prongs’ fingers tear you apart. you’re such a beautiful little mess.”
james hooks an arm under your thigh and yanks you toward him, his fingers leaving you only long enough before you feel his thick, heavy cock pressing against your entrance.
remus notices when your whole body tenses, trembling and overwhelmed from all the different sensations. “are you ready, love?”
with sirius’ dick still pistoning into your mouth, you only manage to nod, the sound vibrating around his cock. it makes him grunt and thrust shallowly into your mouth.
“don’t worry, angel. we’re gonna take such good care of you.” james murmurs. his hand gives his aching cock a few pumps before positioning himself at your entrance again, pushing forward.
your hands grip at your sides at the sudden pressure. the feeling of every thick inch invading your insides as your head bobs back and forth on your other boyfriend’s cock.
“shit, she’s gripping me like she’s starving for it,” james growls, hips snapping forward once he’s buried deep. he keeps one hand braced on your hip and the other tangled in your hair, waiting for you to accommodate his size. the stretch burns so good, you feel him filling you to the brim and tugging your head down on sirius just as he gives a final thrust into you from behind.
remus kneels at your side, his gaze dark and steady, one big hand curling around your throat—not squeezing yet, just holding. “breathe for me,” he murmurs, watching your eyes as james’ holds still. “let them wreck you.”
he looks at james and gives him a nod, giving him permission to start pounding into you now, fast and filthy, his hips slapping against you as sirius groans and guides your head, forcing you to take him deeper. your throat works around him, tears stinging your eyes, every drag of james’ cock making your toes curl and your body tense, the discomfort now long forgotten.
“such a good little toy for us,” remus praises, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone before tightening just enough on your throat to make your pulse roar in your ears.
sirius shudders above you, his grip in your hair trembling. “gonna fill your mouth, dollface—want you to swallow it all while prongs fucks you stupid.”
james chuckles low and mean, fucking you harder. “she won’t have a choice.”
sirius’ hips jerk, and his cock pulses against your tongue before you taste him, hot ropes of milky, white cum coat the insides of your mouth. he groans through gritted teeth, holding your head still as he spills down your throat. “swallow it—yeah, that’s it,” he praises, voice wrecked.
the moment he lets you go, james yanks you upright against his chest without pulling out, keeping you impaled on him as he fucks up into you from behind. his hands are everywhere, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, one circling your clit while the other slides up to squeeze your tits, his teeth dragging along the curve of your neck.
remus moves in front of you, thumb tugging your jaw open as he leans down to spit into your mouth. “swallow that too,” he orders, his eyes locked on yours. you obey without thinking, heat flashing low in your stomach.
james snarls a curse against your ear. “fuck, she just clenched—do it again, moony.”
remus does, slow and deliberate this time, and james growls, pounding into you so hard you feel the bed shift under you. sirius is watching now from the side, stroking himself lazily with a glazed, satisfied grin, even though he came just a few minutes ago.
“you’re gonna come, love,” james says like it’s a promise, his thrusts brutal. “and when you do, i’m not stopping.”
your body is trembling, every nerve screaming, your voice breaking on a whimper. “please—”
remus’s hand curls back around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head swim. “give it to him,” he says, steady and calm, like he’s telling you to hand over something that already belongs to them.
james angles his hips just right and it hits you like a snap—white heat, your orgasm ripping through you so hard your voice catches on a sob. he doesn’t slow, even as you clench and shake around him, and remus’s grip on your throat keeps you right there in that dizzy, spiraling high.
“look at her—completely gone,” sirius murmurs, sounding half in awe, half in possession.
james doesn’t give you a second to breathe. even as you collapse backwards against him, trembling from your release, he’s still driving up into you with the same relentless rhythm, chasing his own high. every thrust sends another sharp, helpless jolt through your overstimulated body, your thighs twitching involuntarily.
“too much?” he teases against your ear, breathless but smug. “shame.”
remus doesn’t move his hand from your throat, just eases the pressure enough for you to drag in a shaky breath. “she’s not saying stop,” he points out, eyes locked on your face like he’s studying every twitch and gasp.
you try to speak, but all that comes out is a broken sound—half whimper, half moan—and james laughs, low and delighted. “that’s my girl.”
remus slides in closer now, his cock hard and leaking, the tip brushing your lips. “open up, sweetheart,” he says, gentle in tone but commanding in intent. you do, and he presses forward, fucking into your mouth in slow, deep thrusts that match james’ pace.
the overstimulation turns molten, everything blurring into sensation, james’ bruising grip on your hips, remus’ warm, steady palm at your throat, his cock filling your mouth until your eyes water.
james swears sharply, hips stuttering before he bottoms out and spills into you, the heat flooding deep. he groans against your shoulder, still rolling his hips to work every drop into you.
sirius’ hand grabs your jaw and tilts your head so you’re looking up at him while remus uses your mouth. “she’s going to take me next,” he says like it’s already decided.
remus’ pace picks up, the edge in his voice unmistakable. “not until i’m done with her, padfoot. she’s not going anywhere.”
you’re shaking, brain fogged, your body caught between wanting to rest and the way they keep dragging you deeper into it.
“good girl,” sirius murmurs against your ear, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction. “we’re not finished yet.”
he doesn’t waste time. the moment remus pulls back from your mouth for a moment, letting you gasp for air, he’s already moving in behind you, hands curling possessively around your waist. his cock grinds against you through the mess james left, the blunt head nudging your sensitive entrance.
“you’re shaking,” he murmurs in your ear, his voice a deep, dangerous purr. “but you’re still open for me, aren’t you?”
james smirks, sliding to the side just enough to watch as remus presses forward. “she’ll take you. she always does.”
the stretch is intense. remus is thicker than james, and your body’s already spent. you make a broken sound, but he just shushes you softly, not slowing down until he’s buried to the hilt.
james is in front of you again in seconds, his hand in your hair, tilting your head back. “that’s it, sweetheart. let him in deep.” his free hand cups your jaw, thumb pressing into your cheek as he grabs sirius’ cock, stroking it and putting it back between your lips.
remus sets a brutal rhythm from the start, each thrust making you jolt forward into sirius’ hips. james stays close, one hand on your cheek to keep you steady, the other diving underneath you to stroke your clit in tight, deliberate circles.
it’s too much. sirius is filling your mouth, remus splitting you open, james’ fingers pushing you toward another orgasm even though you’re already raw. the sounds spilling from your throat are muffled, desperate, your body trembling uncontrollably.
“good girl,” remus growls, leaning over you so his chest presses to your back. “taking all of us like you were made for it.”
sirius’ pace picks up in your mouth, his breath hitching. “fuck, look at her, moony—she’s gone. we’ve ruined her.”
james laughs darkly, fingers never letting up on your clit. “not ruined. just ours.”
the next orgasm hits hard, it’s white-hot and overwhelming. your body convulsing around remus as sirius spills down your throat and remus follows seconds later, grinding deep as he fills you. james doesn’t stop touching you until you’re whimpering and shuddering, every nerve buzzing.
you sag between them, dazed and panting, but none of them let you go.
james’ mouth is everywhere at once, relentless and hot, leaving marks along your collarbone and the tops of your breasts, his teeth catching on your skin like he wants to brand himself there. remus’ praise spills over you like molten gold, his voice low and full of awe as his hands roam every inch he can reach, big palms squeezing your thighs, your hips, like he can’t choose where to touch first. his touch is measured, steady, the calm anchor in the chaos. his thumb strokes the inside of your knee, the soft circles meant to remind you you’re safe even as the other boys pull you further under. his voice is softer, lower, warm with something intimate: “you’re doing so well for us, darling. so beautiful like this.”
you gasp when james’ fingers slip between your thighs, sinking deep to spread the sticky wetness all over your sensitive pussy. “fuck, sweetheart, you’re drenched.” his smirk is wicked, but there’s heat behind it. real hunger, sharp and consuming.
sirius ducks his head, lips brushing your ear, and murmurs, “you’ve got no idea what you do to us. been thinking about this for so long…” he kisses your jaw, slow and reverent, then lets his teeth scrape your skin just enough to make you shiver.
remus shifts closer, his hand sliding up to your hip, and when you glance up at him, his amber eyes lock on yours with a look that’s equal parts adoration and intent. “we’ll take care of you. just let go, love.”
sirius wastes no time. his fingers replace james’ through your slick folds, groaning and stroking like he’s mapping every reaction. your back arches immediately, your breath catching at the sudden stretch.
“oh, fuck—look at her,” james breathes, his voice full of awe as he kneels closer to watch. his hand smooths over your thigh before he spreads you wider for sirius, thumbs keeping you open. “so fucking perfect, mate—she still wants more”
you whimper, half from the embarrassment of their attention, half from the molten pleasure curling in your gut.
“that’s it, pretty girl,” sirius rasps, his other hand splayed on your stomach to keep you in place as you squirm. “getting you ready for me—don’t think i can wait much longer.”
remus’s voice cuts in, calm but deep with need: “let her feel you now. she can take it.” his hand brushes over your hair, and when you look up, the sight of his steady gaze makes your chest tighten in a way you can’t name.
sirius’s fingers stop moving, the lose of contact making you whine. he grins wickedly, grabbing you by the thighs until you’re straddling his hips. james leans down to kiss you—soft at first, then hungry—while sirius’s thick length nudges at your entrance.
the first push is slow, deliberate, stretching you open around him. your nails dig into james’s biceps as sirius groans low in his throat, like the heat of you is knocking the breath from his lungs.
“oh, fuck, you’re tight,” sirius gasps, forehead falling forward to rest against yours for a moment before he presses you down harder. “you’re gonna ruin me, sweetheart.”
sirius drags you down onto him till the last few inches are in. a deep, guttural sound leaving him, your mouth falls open at the stretch, the ache laced with molten heat as he stills inside you, chest heaving.
james kisses your temple, murmuring, “breathe for us, love… there you go.” his hands hold your hips steady to control the rhythm—bouncing you up and down, nearly all the way out before driving back in with a smooth, heavy thrust that makes your toes curl.
every push knocks a sound from your throat, half moan, half gasp. sirius’ hands are rough on the skin of your thighs, dragging you down onto him harder each time. his hips hit yours with steady, punishing rhythm, the sound of skin on skin mixing with the wet, obscene slide of him inside you.
“look at her, james,” sirius growls, sweat glinting at his temple. “she’s taking me so good. tight little cunt’s milking me already.”
the words alone make you clamp down on him, and his jaw goes slack for a second before his pace quickens. his head tips back, dark hair sticking to his damp skin as he drives into you harder, faster. like he’s chasing something just out of reach.
your nails rake down his forearms, a broken “sirius!” tumbling from your lips as pleasure coils low in your belly.
he snarls something incoherent, hips snapping faster until his rhythm stutters. with a choked groan, he buries himself to the hilt and spills inside you, heat flooding deep as his grip on you turns bruising. his breathing is ragged, forehead pressed to your shoulder, but his hips give a few more shallow thrusts as if he can’t bear to stop.
he stays there for a moment, chest pressed to yours, the both of you catching your breath. then he slowly pulls out, watching with a low, satisfied hum as his release seeps out to join james and remus’, all combined with your own cum and arousal, the mess starting to run down your thighs.
he laughs softly. “perfect. our girl’s ruined.”
james tugs you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you protectively. sirius disappears for a moment, returning with a a warm cloth to clean you up, muttering something about how “we can’t keep our girl all sticky.” remus hands you a glass of water, his hand lingering on your thigh in reassurance.
they surround you. his warm bodies, gentle touches, soft murmurs. sirius kisses your temple multiple times, james rubs soothing circles into your back, and remus drapes a blanket you always keep on the couch over all of you.
“you’re ours now,” sirius murmurs smugly.
“forever,” james adds with a sleepy grin.
“oh yeah? now i’m yours?” you asks, your eyes already closing from exhaustion.
“you were already ours,” remus corrects, kissing the top of your head. “this just sealed the deal. you’re trapped with us now.”
“wouldn't want it any other way.” you whisper, sinking into one of your boyfriend’s lap. you don't know which one it is, you’re just content, utterly spent. your last thought before sleeping is how safe, how completely wanted, you feel in their arms.
