#marlene mckinnon fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fourmoony · 6 months

Text

𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬

remus lupin x f!reader

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

3.2k - masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t want warm milk.” You pout.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Remus chuckles softly, endearingly.

“It wasn’t enough.”

Remus smiles, “You want my help?”

You nod eagerly, “Please, Rem.”

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

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

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

“So needy.” He mumbles into your lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good?” He asks.

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

You nod.

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

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

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

“Of course.” Remus nods, placating you.

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

“Baby?” He questions and you soften.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Remus moans. Dirty and deep. He fucking moans.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The clock on his nightstand reads four in the morning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But-“

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

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

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

3K notes · View notes

resident-gay-bitch · 1 month

Text

Please reblog so more marylene shippers can find this! <3

And comment if you’d like to be tagged when I post it :)

#marylene #poll #mary mcdonald #marlene mckinnon #marauders #marauders poll #the marauders #the valkyries #lily evans #mary x marlene #marlene x mary #jay polls #ficlet #fan fiction #marylene fic #mary mcdonald fic #Marlene McKinnon fic

23 notes · View notes

meantaylorsversion · 10 months

Text

CAUGHT IN A BAD ROMANCE

@antlxrqueen sent an ask for marlene x reader “hey im kind of better at you than this” “that’s impossible” “no it isn’t, i’m better than you at most things” & “okay i actually do feel bad so you can slap me once. one time.” from here

marlene mckinnon x reader

warnings; none

pt 1 !

"Hey Blondie! You know I'm the better beater out of the both of us!"

The blonde flipped her hair out of her face, cascading down in golden tresses, as she heard you speak once she got down off her broom, while Marlene knew she wasn't the best beater there ever was, she knew damn well she was better than you. "You're so funny L/n!—" Marlene's blue eyes narrowed in anger as she spoke, "Because the last time I checked, Gryffindor had the cup, not Hufflepuff,"

You scoffed at her, rolling your eyes before throwing a hair tie at her. "Ok, Rapunzel listen, since your best beater and chaser graduated, it's perfect time for Hufflepuff to win,"

Marlene stepped closer as she caught the hair tie and quickly put it on her wrist without a second thought; glaring at you with heat in her blue eyes. She couldn't believe you! Year after year, you two have been fighting over the littlest things, but she knew for a fact she was better at Quidditch than you, but she also knew that you were better at potions than her; though Marlene would never admit it. "You're so wrong L/n, James is captain this year and I'm faster on my broom than you!"

You stepped closer to her, noses almost touching. You could see the sweat on her forehead from her workout and the sun beating down on the both of you, but this time you could also see the beauty she held. Her grey eyes and freckles against her tan skin created an image of an angelic girl, but you knew better she was the devil incarnate to you, at least that's what you wanted to think.

Your eyes flickered down to her lips as you let out a shaky breath, she began to lean in and the world began to become obsolete and it was only the two of you here on the Quidditch Pitch. It felt like time stopped as her lips softly touched yours and Marlene placed her hands in your hair, her kiss becoming more and more urgent like you were the cure to all of her ailments. You kissed back with the same fever, your hands gathering at her waist.

A few moments passed before you two separated, coming up for air, it had finally hit Marlene what she did and immediately she ran. she couldn't believe how stupid she was for that. She hated you! You two had been at each other's throats since the first time you met on the Quidditch Pitch in 2nd year. Ever since then Marlene felt it was her job to try one up you in everything. She cherished the moments where she could your face in disappointment when Gryffindor beats Hufflepuff at Quidditch. Or when Hufflepuff and Gryffindor share classes and she scores higher than you and rubs it in your face, she loves to see the cute pout on your face when she beats you in something. The blonde didn’t even think to look back behind her to see you standing there on the Pitch looking up at the sky in confusion.

Since that day on the Quidditch Pitch, Marlene has done everything to avoid you. From switching spots in class with James or Mary to eating lunch out in the courtyard with Lily and Mary. She couldn't bear to look at you, the blonde was terrified of you confronting her. So much so, Marlene was currently staring at her plate of a full English breakfast that Lily had put on her plate for her.

"Marls, C'mon you gotta eat, we can't have you passing out in the middle of the game!" Lily reprimanded her, her green eyes ablaze.

Mary nodded her head, agreeing with Lily. "Mar, you know Lils is right and I'm sure Y/n doesn't remember it's been two weeks!" Marlene's blue eyes brightened up like a lightning bolt striking. James walked by, intending to hype up Marlene for the Quidditch game against Hufflepuff.

"Marls! You ready for the game?" He turned to Lily, putting on a charming smile as he tousled his hair. "My dear Lilyflower how are you doing on this fine morning?" Lily rolled her eyes, before scoffing at him as she looked up from the table.

"Potter get lost, we're trying to hype up Marls to facing Y/n during the match," James raised his eyebrows, waiting for them to explain. Marlene banged her head against the table in agony, narrowly missing her plate.

She whispered quickly "IkissedY/nonthepitchtwoweeksagoafteranarguement" James tilted his confusion, looking a deer in headlights. "McKinnon you know I can't hear you when you whisper," Marlene groaned, before looking James in the eyes and speaking, “I kissed L/n on the Quidditch Pitch, after we argued, two weeks ago,”

James choked out a laugh before he patted Marlene on the back. “That’s unexpected, but it’s nothing a little quidditch can’t fix it!” The blonde rolled her eyes at James as she picked up a piece of toast and flipped him off before Lily shooed him away from the girls.

Y/n sighed as you watched the back of Marlene. Its been two weeks since the kiss and all you can think about is her. It hurt every time you saw her change her seat with James or Mary, pretending you didn't exist or what happened didn't happen.

Amelia waved her hand in front of your face, trying to get you out of your thoughts. "Y/n! I asked if you're ready for the game today," Y/n looked away from Marlene to the brunette in front of her. “Oh, sorry a bit distracted today, yeah I’m ready for the game today,” You immediately returned to watching Marlene from afar. Amelia sighed as she watched you focus on Marlene. She snapped her fingers in front of your eyes, getting your attention back.

"No, no looking at Marlene until after the game! You're distracted!" You scoffed at her before stabbing a fork into the food right in front of you. "I'm not distracted, I don't know what you're talking about," She laughed and then flinged a piece of fruit at your face.

#marlene mckinnon fic #marlene mckinnon x reader #marauders era fanfiction #marlene mckinnon x you #marlene mckinnon x y/n #marlene mckinnon #alex's writing<3

18 notes · View notes

cannibalizedyke · 1 year

Text

🎸marlene mckinnon masterlist🎸

key: ❤︎︎ - fluff, ☁︎︎ - angst, ★ - smut

coming soon!

#marlene mckinnon x reader #marlene mckinnon x you #marlene mckinnon x y/n #marlene mckinnon fanfiction #marlene mckinnon fanfic #marlene mckinnon fic #marlene mckinnon

11 notes · View notes

ifyoucandaniel · 1 year

Text

Alright! So I finished hand binding Crimson Rivers by @mayzarbewithyou :) this was my first time bookbinding so excuse the mistakes I am far from great, but all in good time! This fic basically changed the trajectory of my life so I thought I’d give it the love it deserves! the spine is regulus standing looking up at the tree and he is purposely put on the last book because he finally learned how to climb and grow. I’m so emotional over the end of the fic so this is very emotional to me. I did the typeset myself and there are some cool details I’ll try to put in another post, but basically I added all of Zar’s end notes as footnotes to the specific scenes he talks about! All very fun and the dingbats match the theme for the books and the backs each have quotes the correspond. I split it into 5 just because it didn’t feel right to have the epilogues in the same book as the war. They were two completely different parts of the story so I separated them. Anyways I’ll make another post. This was a labor of love and I hope I did it Justice :)

6K notes · View notes

not-rab · 1 year

Text

James, showing his new outfit: Thoughts?

Remus: On point.

Sirius: High-key killing it!

Mary: Totally adorable!

Regulus: Adequate.

Regulus: *Blinks*

Remus: Keep it in your pants, Black, jeez!

Marlene: Openly thirsting? That's a new low.

James, blushing: GUYS-

4K notes · View notes

my-castles-crumbling · 16 days

Text

traitor - @jegulus-microfic - word count: 186

"I'm just saying," Barty argued, throwing his hands in the air, "Cas is a traitor! I mean, she's dating a Gryffindor, for fuck's sake!"

Evan grinned while Pandora rolled her eyes, sick of arguing with Barty.

"Oh, fuck off, Barty," Dorcas retorted, elbowing him from her spot next to him of the couch. "House rivalries aside, there are worse things, yeah?"

But Barty seemed to be dead-set on teasing Dorcas for dating McKinnon. "What do you think, Reg? D'you think Cas deserves to be kicked out of Slytherin for her betrayal?"

Regulus, who had been able to avoid the conversation thus far, felt himself turn red. Because his own traitorous brain was reminding him of what he was doing last night. Or, rather, who he had been doing last night. The Gryffindor tie that he'd wrapped around his hand and pulled closer as he'd kissed James Potter like his life depended on it.

"Erm...there are worse things," he murmured, keeping his eyes on the book in his lap, trying not to sound too ridiculously guilty.

Because really, there wasn't much better than kissing James Potter.

476 notes · View notes

lavender-000 · 2 months

Text

REMUS LUPIN COMMENTATING ON GYRIFFINDOR VS SLYTHERIN GAMES (some time in 6th year)

Remus: Welcome to the quiddich games i'm Remus Lupin and I'm forced to be here I hope you fuckers enjoy my pain

McGonagall: Remus Lupin!

Remus: *ahem* sorry miss but we're off the two terms are flying up to... hit things? Honestly im best friends with the Gyriffindor captain and fucking the beater no clue what's- OUCH MISS IM SORRY but that was uncalled for simply stating fac- OUCH-

ANYWAY our captain Potter is about to score- and missed, call me delusional but I'm pretty sure he was staring at baby Black, really Potter? Let's all thank your captain as Slytherin now have the ball thing- quaffle? Aaaannnd they score well done James WELL DONE.

McGonagall: let's move on from James please, 10 points to Slytherin.

Remus: Of course and the game begins again OH Marlene is going for the other more aggressive ball thing-

McGonagall: bludger

Remus: yes that, and she hits it! Go her that was good it went straight for the Slytherin team and OH MY GOD MCKINNON YOU DIDNT JUST WINK AT MEADOWES but that was smooth, I'm sure she was impressed... I'm being glared at LETS MOVE ON OH WOW James? Did you just SCORE I'm suprised you didn't get distracted aga-

McGonagall: REMUS LUPIN!

Remus: Aanndd 10 points go to Gyriffindor Barty is definitely not happy with that i don't know what you do but go hit those angry balls! Make a show for your boyfriend!

Now the games start again Gyriffindor is ahead wow if only Regulus Black stopped staring at someone's THIGHS WE'D BE DONE

YOURE. NOT. SUBTLE. BABY. BLACK.

Remus: ...ladies and gentlemen Miss McGonagall just laughed she can also see the pin-

McGonagall: Remus Lupin please leave

Remus: Of course miss can I just...?

McGonagall: ...just make it quick

Remus: Sirius you look so hot right now I'm gonna f-

McGonagall: SAY ANOTHER WORD AND YOURE NEVER LEAVING DETENTION

Remus: f-all in love with you even more...

McGonagall: ...

Remus: ...shit did Sirius just fall off his broom?

McGonagall: thank Merlin, Regulus caught the snitch GAME IS OVER SLYTHERIN WIN, REMUS DETENTION LEAVE NOW!

The chaos if Remus was a quiddich commentator

(I love it)

#regulus black #james potter #jegulus #marauders #fic ideas #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #quidditch #everyone is gay #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #dorlene #barty crouch jr #dead gay wizards #james x regulus #70s gay wizards #Lupin

707 notes · View notes

tomriddleslove · 2 months

Text

Those Damn Thighs.

✩Marauders era Gryffindors x F!Reader

Summary: The one where a little too much to drink and too much time in the company of one Sirius Black means they’ve all lost their shame. Alternatively: Them thirsting over your thighs.

A/N: Marauders era obsession coming back? Yes.

There were merely 2 weeks left till the summer holidays were over and school resumed once more, and you can count the number of times you’ve revised on one hand.

Actually, on one finger.

Summer at the Potters seemed like an incredible idea, and you thought that it would be a fun way to liven up your otherwise mundane routine. In hindsight, you should have also recognised that a summer with all of your close friends meant it was near impossible to get anything done properly.

When the idea was first proposed, you pondered how on earth the Potters would manage to host Sirius, Remus, Peter, Marlene, Lily, Mary, and Yourself. However once you had arrived at the Potter manor you realise they could have easily hosted thrice your group.

It should have been no suprise to you that the Potters were filthy rich. Sure, James was a bit rough around the edges and rather boyish. One look at him, however, with his ridiculously expensive leather satchel that he never wears, or his beat up muggle trainers that he always wore despite having a pair of the finest leather shoes in his closet tells you that James Potter came from money.

Perhaps it was because James was so friendly, and oddly rather humble (at least when it came to money, for he had no shame in boasting about his quidditch victories or the girls he’s pulled), that you never really thought about it that much. You could only look on in envy, marvelling at their beautiful home whilst you think back to your rather small, dingy one.

The summer had truly been incredible. You’d sleep in, go out and play quidditch, head to town and pester the shopkeepers into providing you with treats at a reduced cost. You’d come back in the evening, and one by one clamber up to the attic which had been renovated into some sort of ‘hangout’ room, with a small charmed fireplace in the corner and a large persian rug. With the help of James, Lily had transfigured some old pillows into a few beanbags using Fleamont’s wand and the once dusty and bare room had turned into a haven for all of you to gather (and get drunk) in the evenings. Whilst the Potters were largely welcoming people and would put up with the antics that you all would get up to, they very clearly drew the line at drinking. It only took one day of probing from Sirius for James to cave and allow him to smuggle up bottles for the group to enjoy.

From then on, it had naturally become your nighttime routine. Whilst you had already been incredible close as a group, a few days of drinking together had bridged the somewhat awkward gap between the boys and the girls, with each respective group becoming more shameless in conversations and comfortable with one another.

That leads you to today, where you’re scoping out the hallways before sneaking over to the little alcove which had a hidden ladder to the side. You struggle a bit more as you climb up the ladder. You had recently gone out to town with Peter and Mary, and had settled on a pair of bootcut jeans that you saw passing by the shops on the higshtreet. They fit incredibly well, paired with the bell sleeves knitted top that you wore, you looked all the part of what Mary quoted to be “comfortable rockstar chic”. The only issue was that the jeans fit a little too well. Clinging to you tightly, they highlighted your thighs and the curve of your ass, making them look mouth-wateringly delicious. They were absolutely not suited for climbing ladders however, and you largely relied on your upper body strength to pull you up as you finally manage to get through to the attic.

“There she is.” Marlene jibes, and you roll your eyes with a grin as you brush yourself off and walk over to the group, flopping down next to Lily. Marlene is on the far side of the room, on one end of the fire place. She shares a beanbag with Mary, who’s splayed across the top as she stares off at the ceiling. On the beanbag next to her are you and Lily, and to your right is Peter. Remus is sitting cross legged next to Peter, with Sirius and James completing the horseshoe type arrangement on the other side of the fireplace. James is sitting on the floor and leaning his head against the beanbag, looking half asleep as Sirius props his elbows onto his knees, sitting up. You rest your head on Lily’s shoulder and the sweet girl hums lightly, a hand coming up to soothingly stroke your hair. The soft material of her forest green cardigan acts as a wonderfully effect pillow, and you’re fighting to keep your eyes open.

Everyone else was there bar Sirius, which you found odd as he seemed to be the very first person who was there, cracking open a bottle of whatever he managed to get his hands on.

You speak, voice lazy and subdued with the warmth from the fireplace and Lily’s gentle actions at the end of such a long day sending you towards an untimely slumber.

“Where’s Sirius?”

As if on cue, a head of curly black hair pops up at the entrance, pearly white canines peeking through the mischevious grin that tugs at his lips as he scrambles up. He joins the group, covered in an alarming amount of what seemed to be soot as he sits down next to James.

An almost comical cloud of smoke rises up into the air as he sits down and James splutters, shoving Sirius off the beanbag as he fans the soot away.

“Christ, did you go rolling around in the fireplace or something.” James coughs and Remus snorts, leaning back on one elbow.

“See, I took the floo to town because I wanted to grab us something a bit different. I was coming back when I just paused right at the top of your chimney. Had to shuffle my way down the damn thing and almost knocked Effie’s crystal egg off the mantle.” He murmurs, dusting some soot off his knee.

“James’ mum blocked the floo so James would stop being lazy. Sort of backfires sometimes and once he was stuck there for 5 hours because he was too scared to tell his mum.” Peter recalls, and James turns red as Marlene throws her head back, cackling.

“Peter…” James whines as the rest of the group dissolve into laughter, and you can’t help but let out a few giggles of your own, nudging Lily as you whisper into her ear.

“This is the same boy you have a raging crush on?” You taunt and she slaps your arm playfully, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Well, if you’ve soiled your pretty face so much have you at least gotten something good?” Mary quips, raising a brow. Sirius grins that cocky smile he so often wears as he produces an old green bottle, with red wax hardened around the edge.

“Now this, ladies and gentlemen, is the finest wine one can buy. Produced in 1890, this was produced and aged in the prevalent vineyards of Italy. It was hand sealed by a group of local farmers who harvest the grapes using-“ Sirius starts, but Remus snatches the bottle off him, inspecting the wax seal.

“Alright alright, enough waffling. Let’s have some:” Remus murmurs, trying to pick at the wax.

“Use your wand.” Sirius quips, and Remus looks at him with a deadpan expression.

“Oh, sorry Sirius. Has it not occurred to you that if we could use magic, we wouldn’t have to rely on you taking the floo to town to get some alcohol?” Remus remarks sarcastically. Sirius grumbles, the leather of his jacket squeaking as he crosses his arms.

“Does anyone have a pocket knife? It’s too firm.” Remus says, slapping the neck of the bottle against his palm. Mary hums, reaching into her pocket as she produces a pocket knife. You raise a brow at her as she tosses it over to Remus and she shrugs, her tone casual.

“You never know when you’ll need it.” She says, and Marlene nods in agreement. Remus has no luck with the bottle, passing it over to James. He stabs at the wax, making nothing but a dent. This doesn’t seem to deter him however, as he simply just continues doing the same thing over and over again.

“Boys,” You murmur to the girls with disdain, amusement lacing your tone, “Leave it to them to think bashing a knife into it will work.”

You all look up as they squabble over how to open the bottle, Sirius yanking it off James as he speaks.

“No, you have to twist it. That way the wax crumbles.” He says, trying to drive the knife into the stubborn wax. James shakes his head, pulling the bottle back.

“No, if you stab it you’ll crack the wax. Twisting it won’t do anything.” He argues back, and the boys bicker childishly. You roll your eyes, impatient and ever so slightly agitated as you push up off the bean bag, kneeling on the floor.

“Oh for merlin’s sake, give it here.” You snap, yanking the knife from Sirius and the Bottle from James.

You remain kneeling on the floor, resting your weight on the heels of your feet as you place the bottle between your thighs. You hold it there securely, flicking open the knife as you begin stripping away at the bottle from the side in long, slow movements. You angle the neck of the bottle towards James and Sirius, far too focused on getting the bottle open to notice the silence that’s fallen over the group.

After a few minutes of chipping away at the last of the wax, you jam the tip of the knife into the cork. Squeezing the bottle with your thighs slightly tighter, you pull it off with a perfect pop as a grin of satisfaction graces your face. You look up, and your smile falters slightly as you see Sirius dark gaze trained on you, completely silent. James shifts in his seat, mouth parted slightly as he gazes down at the bottle nestled tightly between your thighs.

“What?” You laugh, and Remus coughs as he tears his gaze away from you, tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip before he speaks.

“Nothing. Pass it here.” He says, voice oddly strained.

“That was the hottest fucking thing i’ve ever seen.” Marlene blurts, breaking the silence as a laugh bubbles out of you. Mary nods eagerly in agreement.

“Gods you’re all shameless. We’ve been spending too much time with Sirius.” You joke, and the afformentioned frowns, a sad little “hey” escaping his lips as Peter chuckles, nodding in agreement.

Now it’s Lily’s turn to nudge you, murmuring as the rest of the group chat about Marlene’s blunt (but honest) statement.

“She was right though. I don’t know how you managed to make that look sexy but everyone was staring at you. Especially…” She trails off, nudging you, and you grin with a small bashful smile. You’re about to probe further when a disgusted splutter catches your attention. Remus wipes his chin, grimacing as he looks down at the bottle.

“Pads, this tastes like absolute shite.”

957 notes · View notes

diangelosdays · 1 year

Text

james: pete PETE it's finally happening

pete: I never thought I'd see the day

lily: james you are far too excited by this

mary: awwww... me and who

marlene: black finally grew a pair then!!

3K notes · View notes

fourmoony · 1 month

Note

I HAVE THE BEST REQUEST AND IT'S PERFECT FOR JAMES! like imagine reader sitting at home and suddenly she gets a text from james to come outside and he's standing there🥲🥲🥲🥲 so she asks what he's doing there and he's like "i just wanted to kiss you" SORRY IF IT'S TOO SPECIFIC

thanks for requesting, sweetie!

f!reader 1.1k words cw: drunk jamie

You're half asleep when your phone pings, illuminating the darkness of your bedroom in a distracting glow and you're half asleep, content to ignore the single ping, a problem for tomorrow. But another one follows a moment later, the third only seconds after the second. With a huff, your hand reaches out to grab blindly for the device.

James' contact photo smiles at you from the corner of the notification box, his glasses askew and hair a mess. Your favourite photo of him, despite how vehemently he detests it. The messages are a jumble of words you struggle to make out, vowels in the wrong places and an amusing amount of emojis, even for James. A laugh huffs it way out of you as the three text bubbles appear once again, and a fourth message comes through. A photo of your house.

You'd be concerned, should anyone else have sent you the eerie looking photo of your house in utter darkness, but James is a love sick fool. You'd have to be blind not to know that about your boyfriend, even if things between you are still pretty new. He's not got a bad bone in his body. But it doesn't stop the way you sit up in a panic, scanning the floor of your bedroom for less embarrassing clothing. You come up empty, and your phone is incessantly buzzing in your hands now that James knows you've read his messages.

You use the glow of your phone to find your way downstairs, your house keys, make your way to the door and unlock it. James is sprawled out on the grass of your front garden, phone comically close to his face as he squints at the words he's typing. Drunk. Absolutely obliterated, clearly. You'll give Sirius shit for it, tomorrow, you think, as you let an exasperated laugh tumble from your lips.

James whips his head around at the noise, scrambles like a puppy to stand and bound his way over to you. He tramples some of the flowers planted around the borders of the grass and you fight a wince. He's on you in seconds, warmth radiating from him despite having been out in the cold for god knows how long. His arms are strong and steady, even though he reeks of beer, as he pulls you into them, lips firmly planted on the top of your head.

You try to peek over his shoulder for any sign of who dropped him off, but the street is empty, desolate, and you decide he must've walked from the pub.

Sleep still clings to the edges of your eyes as James pushes you back - uncoordinated and a little roughly, but you don't mind - and holds your face in his warm hands. "Hi, lovely girl." His voice is sweet and brimming with excitement at the sight of you and your heart swells.

"What on earth are you doing here, James?" You ask, though your words are kind and laced with amusement.

Your boyfriend only grins like the cat who got the cream, like he can't wait to tell you all about his adventure, until his eyes snag on your pyjamas. Technically, his pyjamas. His old juniors rugby top from secondary school and his boxer shorts, left abandoned by him last week when he'd slept in for breakfast with his mum and left in a hurry, a kiss placed to your cheek and the promise of being home for dinner. It had felt so domestic you'd had to talk yourself down from overflowing excitement for hours.

"Woah." James breathes, eyes wide.

You'd known he wouldn't mind you wearing his clothes, even if a little embarrassment at the idea had clung to your skin as you slipped them on before bed. But you hadn't expected him to feel like that about it.

"Easy tiger, you're three sheets to the wind." You chide softly, using the distraction to usher him into the hallway.

You close and lock the door behind him, place the keys in the bowl beside the door. James finds you in the darkness, hands soft against the fabric of his clothes on your body. You don't have to see him to know he's smiling that coy smile he gets whenever he seems to remember he has you.

"Am not." He mumbles, as if your statement has just now caught up with him.

You laugh, take his hand to lead him towards your bedroom. He follows quietly and without protest, but frowns when you flip on the overhead light and place him on the edge of your bed.

"What happened to Sirius' epic boys night on the town?" You ask, hands on his face as you crowd the in between of his legs.

His hands come to rest against the backs of your thighs, grip firm but soothing. He smiles, head lolling to the side, "Well," He sighs, as if buckling in for some wild tale of beasts slaughtered and mountains climbed, all just to get to you, "Sirius and Remus got drunk, like really, really drunk, and touchy and they were kissing and it made me realise how much I wanted to kiss you. So I left, and I came here for a quick kiss."

"A quick kiss?" You ask, eyebrow raised.

James just smiles, nodding dutifully, like it makes the most sense in the world. "Yeah, I gotta go back. They don't know I left."

You let out a long, suffering sigh, reaching for your phone beside James. "You can't just leave and not tell anyone where you're going."

"If they even realise I'm gone, they'll know where I am. With you." James shrugs.

"How do you reckon?"

"Where else would I be?" He asks, so serious and determined, so sure of himself that it makes your breath catch in your throat.

You can't help but smile, sweet and saccharine, glowing all over as you lean down to press your lips to James'.

"You're sweet."

James wrinkles his noise, grip tightening on your thighs as he pulls you down to him, falling backwards with a gentle thud. You catch yourself before your head collides with his nose and James grins, childish and playful, "You're sweet, too."

"Thanks, Jamie."

He presses his lips to yours, again, simple and warm. He knows he's in no condition for anything else, simply tucks you into his side and tries to get you to fall asleep with him, right there in the middle of the bed, on top of the blankets.

He's dead to the world in seconds, so you don't have much room for argument.

654 notes · View notes