papillon-mechant

[papillon-mechant]

cw: blood, mention or torture, fem!reader, mafia!marauders

Remus is glaring at the speck of blood on the sleeve of his once pristine white shirt. The culprit sits across from him, cheeks wet with tears and nose bent at an unnatural angle after getting his face smashed against the hard vintage wood. "My wife just had this cleaned."

Sirius stands by the guest with a cigarette dangling from his lips. He studies his bloody knuckles with a grimace before wiping them on the man's shirt. He grabs at the hair of his nape, snatching the man's head back so he can sneer at him. "You disrespecting the lady of the house, then? She's real nice, so I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The man blubbers, spit flying out of his mouth as he stumbles through apologies and promises to give them whatever they want. "N-no, I would never dis—"

Before he can finish, the door creaks open and you're gliding your way in. You have a shining star of a smile on your face and a tray full of something that smells delicious in your hands. Behind you, an excited-looking James follows with a stack of napkins and a smear of chocolate in the corner of his mouth.

"I made brownies," you beam and aim the plate at Remus. The dress you're wearing is a pale yellow, with pretty ruffles around the sleeves and a hem that ends right above the middle of your thighs. You look at your husband expectantly, still oblivious to the bleeding man in your living room. "Try one?"

"You were supposed to stay in the kitchen, sweetheart," he scolds, trying to sound stern, but his tone is already as gooey as the chocolate melting on the tray. He sighs, "you promised, dove."

"I know," you whine, nearing until you're pressed against his side. "But I made the brownies you like, with the white chocolate and macadamia nuts?" You pout. "Please, Remmy? Try one?"

"If you don't I will, mate," James quips as he reaches around you to snatch a chocolate square from the pile.

You giggle with your eyes squinting, "you already had four!"

While James groans dramatically, Remus reaches for a brownie of his own.

He hums and your attention flashes back to him. He smiles, "these are perfect, dove. Thank you."

"Oi!" Sirius snaps from across the table, "what about the rest of us, eh?"

You giggle at him and let him load up on two squares until suddenly you gasp, face curling into a sad pout. You reach for Remus, "your shirt."

"Dove, I—"

"I just cleaned that," you sulk, lip wobbling as you turn to the bloody man trying to disappear into his chair. "Took ages!"

"I-I'm sorry," he panics, shaking his head, blood splattering about." "I didn't— T-they—"

"And now you got my dress!" you cry clutching the skirt of your dress, now splattered with tiny drops of red. You glare at the man through your tears before turning back to your husband with a whine of his name.

James cackles, sucking a chocolate covered finger into his mouth. "Oh mate, it's so over for you."

[papillon-mechant]

wake up call

'between certainties and doubts' installment part of the mean!remus agenda, aka a moment from a terrifyingly convoluted teenage situationship between remus lupin and an unidentified Hogwarts student (x fem!reader) wc: 1.6k a/n: a moment in one of the many morning afters with remus lupin angst and allusions to sex feel free to send requests for them

—

There’s a comfortable silence that goes hand in hand with early mornings at Hogwarts, as rare as it may be. On the third floor of the west wing of Gryffindor Tower lies the Marauders’ headquarters and safe haven, also known as their dorm room depending on the time of day—but right now? 

Remus wishes that he had it all to himself. 

The curtains are drawn around the faded velvet-lined curtains that swallow you and him within his twin bed into a world of your own, away from prying eyes. But there are slivers of sunlight that peak through the seams that break through the walls he built around this secret, sending a fluttery feeling through him as he watches themselves cast upon your cheekbones. The dorm is emptier now without James here to rile up Sirius and Peter, and Remus sends a silent prayer up to whatever power above for that—the current Head Boy has no sense of privacy, after all. So he pulls your body towards him and holds you for a bit longer, just because he can. Unconsciously, you tuck your nose into his midline, brushing against his clavicle, and with nothing between you but soiled sheets and bare skin, the brunet wonders for a moment if you could melt into him like this and become one.

You see, intimacy is an interesting subject if you’re Remus Lupin. 

Probably the one he’s least proficient at, dare he admit it. But he’s familiar with the pleasures of the flesh—a deep and carnal urge he usually satisfies with a tumble in the sheets with a random tourist, usually of the Muggle sort, back home in Mold and so very far away from his life here at Hogwarts.

But this is not that. This is so much more—somehow, without him noticing, Remus has intertwined his selfish dream with his painstaking reality that you of all people could want to be with a werewolf. 

A thought passes almost cruelly the longer he looks at you—that this is as real and as good as it will get for someone like him, fleeting touches and temporary happiness until all that’s left is the memory of the scent of your hair or how you like your eggs in the morning. 

Remus pulls his hand away from your waist and hates how perfectly it fits against the curve of your hip.

There’s a lot of things that slip past his notice the harder he thinks—which he does a lot, to be fair. 

Your breath shifts under his fingertips ever so slightly because maybe if neither of you say anything to break the solitude, he’ll let you sleep in a bit longer. 

Maybe.

But you’re the one that breaks his reverie this morning as you ghost your lips against the ragged scar that climbs across his collarbone. Remus lets out a sigh from the deepest pits of his soul, as if you’ve lifted whatever bad memory came with it. You still don’t know. The cracks in his foundation have been crumbling, and you often see such softness within him in times like these—moments where there’s no one else but you to put him back together. However Remus doesn’t exactly come with an instruction manual.

So if anyone asks, it doesn’t hurt him. 

Not physically at least.

“What are you thinking about?”

It’s a whisper at most, a breathy sound that scratches at your throat and yet he shushes you in case Sirius might hear—sensitive dog hearing and trauma aside, the boy is always the earliest to rise out of all of them. You roll your eyes and burrow your face into your lover’s arm as it reaches for his wand that he had tucked behind the headboard. Both your feet are rubbing against each other; it makes you giggle under your breath. You watch Remus cast Silencio over the boundaries of his bedspace, so you raise an eyebrow as if to say, “Well?”; he smiles at you from his side profile, face smushed against his pillow as he looks down at your face.

“You,” he admits. It sounds pensive, and his brows furrow like he’s being betrayed by the words that spill out of his mouth.

“You’re full of shit,” you smirk, eyes locking with his as you pull the duvet over your shoulders. Remus’ eyes are a touch darker in the low light, the weight of them heavier when he’s tired. And yet, he cracks a smile you swear sets something alight within you—a curiosity to seize him while his limbs are locked with your own, to probe further into him instead of how he does to you, relentlessly and almost savagely, like he wants evidence that he was there. The proof is scattered in bruises that bloom across your breasts where no one can see. 

You want to stay, and think of how to gather the confidence to tell him, and then he speaks again.

“I mean it. Even when I don’t want to, I’m always thinking about you.”

“You can sound a bit more thrilled than that, you know,” you say in jest. It’s hard to know if he’s being sincere—but you do know that Remus Lupin is honest in ways that hurt. Though lately, it’s not quite sure if that’s to your advantage. Still, you take what you can get from him.

“Well,” he starts—you shove his chest and he shuts his eyes to soak in the sound of your laughter. Your proximity to him makes it feel like it’s vibrating the walls of his ribcage; he quite likes the feeling.

It’s silent in the room again, and there’s much for both of you to think about. Lying there in the quiet and admiring each other’s faces is your favorite way to spend your mornings, though it was easier in the summer. Brighter, more free, and not hidden away like this. The novelty of it all begins to wear off as you hear Sirius bumbling around in the ensuite, hair dryer on high.

“Sometimes, I wish you were someone else,” Remus breathes, letting the words wash over you. It sends a chill up your spine that he’s tracing with his index finger and for a second you don’t know what to think—your body shakes as if unsure whether to move closer or away.

You don’t say anything, not knowing what he means but knowing that it hurts. Every blink takes away the time you spend together this morning by the millisecond and you wonder if all of it is a waste. Trying to see him clearly makes it feel like you’re fading away. Maybe you’re just the idea of someone he wants to be with—maybe that version of you is more palatable, easier to fuck.

You pull the sheets around you tighter now, rolling onto your back to stare at the canopy overhead, washed out maroon and gold in a spiral of fabric. At least it’s not evergreen and you won’t get lost in it. 

“Yeah,” you say finally. It’s not a question but an admission, because the experience of being with Remus Lupin feels like one that takes you out of your own body. 

Like you float above it but aren’t there.

Maybe it would be easier then, if you were someone else.

Then Remus would be right again, and you hate that.

The words simply hold their own space now in the growing one between you two on the cramped bed.

Sirius will be on his way out of the bathroom soon, and the window of solace you once had is coming to a close—though it feels shattered already by the impassive looks on your faces.

Before he reminds you what you already know of your routine, you’re on your knees in the middle of the bed and tugging one of his sweatshirts on, clothes obscuring your vision of him because it’s easier this way instead of saying anything else. He hands you your pajamas and he’s breathless at the sight of all of that skin and all of his marks that he left disappearing from view.

“Don’t forget your—”

“I know,” you swallow, sticking your scroll into your knapsack. He’s fumbling into his own clothes now—and he realizes he’s put on your dad’s old rugby sweatshirt instead.

“Switch?” Remus smiles, but you’re not in the mood anymore.

“Doesn’t really matter. Does it?”

He shrugs.

You both leave hints where people usually don’t notice, in borrowed sweaters, or notes during class. He wears your hair ties around his wrist because you always lose them, and snapping the elastic against his skin helps him not pick at his scars. You always carry an extra chapstick in your pocket, cherry flavored—-to soothe his cracked lips before you kiss him. There is evidence of this connection that makes it real, even if you don’t say it aloud—even if the only places you can meet are when no one’s around.

No one even knows that you two are friends, outside of these four walls.

Are you even friends with Remus?

The thought almost makes you fall off his bed and he catches you by the arm, “Careful, lovely.” He presses a kiss against your forehead, and then your nose, and then your lips—that one lingers for a moment longer than it should, until you almost want to pull him back into bed.

“I should go,” you sigh against his panting lips. Remus hasn’t let go of your arm, but he nods. What gets things back into motion is the sound of the hair dryer shutting off—he swipes the curtains open and is almost pushing you out the door, handing you your shoes as you cross the threshold.

Too focused on each other and what to do next, neither of you notice Peter wide-eyed and sitting up against his headboard—quiet as a mouse.

Though, he is a pretty decent secret-keeper, if he says so himself.

—

i don't do taglists anymore! follow @ma1dita-mail and turn on post notifs :)

[papillon-mechant]

thinking abt pastors daughter!reader x dealer!remus.

giving her rides after bible study becomes a regular thing. she waits outside for him, not at the church, she doesn’t want the others asking questions. she waits for him at the gas station down the block.

and every time he picks her up, she’s standing under the street lamp, polished mary janes shining even in the dark, with her bible in hand and a strawberry lollipop between her lips.

which of course is why he started calling her, strawberry 🍓

this is my new thing now i’m gonna be writing little blurbs and stuff abt this. you guys can send in ideas and stuff too!

[papillon-mechant]

Maybe some James potter smut since it’s his birthday? (Idk if it’s still his bday where you are but whatever)

happy birthday to the loveliest boy ever ♡

-send me drabble requests!

james potter x fem!reader, smut

James tells you he's proud of you all the time.

Every time he does it, his words leave a gentle rush of waves in your stomach. Something crawling slowly, like he's gonna ruin you. He looks at you with widened eyes, a small smile curled up on his lips, and you are dying to kiss him.

He whispers it, the first time in three days, and your fingers on the keyboard slow down. His voice sends shivers down your spine and it's a delicious feeling how he can make your mind go blank with only a few words. You press your cheek on your shoulder, a lazy attempt to get back to your senses. James takes the opportunity to kiss your exposed neck.

"Jamie," you murmur. He knows what he's doing, never clueless when it comes to you. "I have to finish this."

"You've got an entire night ahead of you, angel," he mumbles. "Can I maybe have some of your attention?"

Fuck him for being so sweet. He plays his part well to distract you, craving your attention like he's been starved for it all day.

"I can help you with your work later," he offers when you stay silent. "If you take a break with me."

James has a pair of convincing eyes and when he watches you like he needs you, you can't keep doing your work properly. You turn your face to him, recognize the vulnerable look in his face.

"Are you okay?" you ask with concern. He nods.

"Just tired," he replies. "I, um, kinda had an argument with Tom today."

Tom is one of his closest friends on the team, a person who makes his long training sessions more bearable. They don't really argue, this might even be the first time. Your brows get together with worry.

"I'm sorry, Jamie," you say, standing up and leaving your laptop.

"That's okay, we'll probably fix things tomorrow," he says. Sunshine personified, your favorite person in this world. "I just don't want to think about it now."

You take his hand, lead him to bed. It's messy with the blankets thrown over four different colored pillows. A silent practice, how you get your body tangled with his. He lifts his leg to settle it down between your thighs and you press yourself without being embarrassed at all. No need for that, he keeps telling you.

"What were you whispering?" you decide to distract him with a lazy tease. "Before you took me away from my stuff?"

"I'd say you willingly left, but the details are not important, huh?"

He gets on top of you with half of his body, looks at you with hazy eyes. Gorgeous boy.

"And I was just talking about how good you are at what you're doing," he whispers and kisses your cheek. "With that frown on your face when you're upset with it. Or with you biting your lip in pride when you got something right."

"You were watching me."

"I'm always watching you."

You kiss him and he closes his eyes. It's been a long day. He got through it somehow, but being able to relax after a day like this is not easy. Even James Potter needs to be taken care of sometimes.

His fingers are wanting, stroking your waist eagerly. The kiss lasts for a few minutes, whispers of affection lingering in the air between you. Your hands play with his hair, big waves falling in your palms as you move.

You take off your shirt. Nothing happens too fast and it's a good thing. How could he rush this when he got it after wanting so much? Desire pooling in his belly, legs shaking and James swears he could moan when you rub yourself on his thigh.

His shirt's on the floor, too. Every piece of clothing on both of you gets lost and James kisses your inner thigh.

"Get under the blankets," James tells you. "It's cold in here."

You do as he says with his help, pulling his naked body under the soft fabric with you. "I'm feeling really warm," you tell him with a sneaky smile that usually belong to his part of teasing.

"Yeah?" he asks against your collarbones. "Can you show me where?"

You take his hand and drag it slowly to your belly. He does the rest of the job and moves his fingers to your wetness. Sticky sweet under his touch, lazy and wanting. You close your eyes and let him play with you.

James has long fingers and they are thick, but he makes sure they are warm enough every time he touches you. His thumb spends a few second with your clit and he uses others to spread the wetness all over you. You lift your hips when he presses just right, his eyes are glowing with something both exhausted and excited.

"Pretty," he whispers, his fingers find a nice rhytm. It's lazy and slow, a gentle touch on your body and he feels like he belongs here. Right here on the bed, under blankets and his hand never stops touching you. He keeps moving until he has you shaking with a tender wave of shiver.

"It's not gonna end," he murmurs on the side of your neck, his lips not kissing and letting you go mad. "I promise I'll keep going."

He sounds so in love, but so tired. You don't even try to stop yourself from accepting the rush his fingers bring, it's strong and you arch your back. Pleasure has you trembling, it's delicious, and you let out a songlike breath. You want to beg him to kiss your neck, he understands your shaky breaths and finally parts his lips against your pulse point.

His fingers keep moving the way you like. You can't see his face as he's kissing your neck, sucking a little bruise there, you hold the back of his head gently to look at him. A pair of lovesick eyes, his lips are swollen and cheeks warm with desire. You can almost feel him rubbing himself on the sheets, the thought of it is enough to let go.

"James," you whisper, desperate to touch him with your free hand. He stays still. "Don't do it yourself, I wanna help. Please, oh-"

He doesn't listen. He can't. His hands are busy and he can't breathe, he needs to come undone. Adjusting his hips, he gets some stimulation from the sheets, enough to make him moan. "I'm so tired, I need to come with you. I can't- can't wait, sweetheart, I'm sorry."

"Let me touch," you say in a demanding but soft voice. "Let me help."

James listens to you this time, he knows you'll do a better job. He comes up a bit higher in bed for you to reach him, you eagerly extend your hand to feel. It's not difficult to get him right there with you, the moment before the peak. He closes his eyes and puts his head on your chest, lazily sucking on your nipple to ground himself. He's moving his hips against your hand, a big breath ready on his chest.

You come with a moan. James thinks it's the prettiest sound ever. With the rush of the moment, you move your hand faster and he follows you. Your mind goes blank, the world gets blurry. James stays on your chest, his body feels heavier now that he's relaxed. You love seeing him like this, without the anxiety his day left behind.

"Need to clean us up," he mumbles. He's half asleep. "It's uncomfy."

You smile softly. He doesn't even have the energy to blink. "Stay for a while," you tell him, your hand in his hair to fix his waves. "We can do it later."

It's tempting and James is easily convinced. Your chest is the perfect pillow, his head moves as you take calm breaths. Rubbing the tired muscle between his shoulder and neck, you urge him to fall asleep. He forgets everything other than your touch.

[papillon-mechant]

Commission for @okay-sky❤️‍🔥

Click for full version / Alternative

[papillon-mechant]

I just started reading your mean!remus situationship series and omg I just know it's going to hurt. I just got out of a 5 year situationship so I'm already in the hole lmao. I would love to riff some situationship happenings with you!! But seriously it's so good I love the mean!remus trope, people portray him as the sweet shy boy too often!

oh boy 5 years i Understand---i just ended one that was on and off... for 7 years so ... we're here!!!! (fuck)

feel free to yap with me about our experiences lets share and compare LMAOOOOOO and we can redeem it thru remus. this is my healing i swearrrrrr

and yes i notoriously got hate when i first posted the og blurb two years ago because people forget fanon is very much.... fanon. everyone can have their own interpretations of it and i think it makes him more multi-faceted considering his lived experiences. im just happy to be here man

[papillon-mechant]

hi mari!!!! hope you're doing well... i was just wondering do you by any chance write anything related to soulmate au?? if yes then could you please write one related to how james (MY LOVE) and reader are soulmates but he rejects her for his love for lily? (quite harshly i must say) and just a ton load of angst, im in desperate need of a cry :3

anywho i completely understand if you dont write it

i hope you have an amazing day!!!!! <3

Soul Marks

pairing - james potter x fem!reader

warnings - soulmate au, unrequited love, kinda oblivious and mean james, a little angsty

a/n - hi my love! thank you for the request, I LOVE soulmate au's and it's honestly crazy I haven't written more of them yet. hope you like it 💕

wordcount - 1.2k

The first time you met James Potter, you had no idea he was going to ruin you.

It was on the train to Hogwarts, your first year, nerves still jittering in your chest as you lugged your trunk down the narrow corridor. Every compartment was full—except one. Inside, a boy with messy black hair and round glasses was animatedly talking to a taller boy with tired eyes. Across from them sat a wiry boy with a mischievous grin and another who looked small and anxious, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve.

"Mind if I sit?" you had asked, shifting your weight.

James had looked up, grinning. “Of course!”

The other boys murmured their agreements, and you had smiled in relief, stepping forward—only for the train to lurch violently. You stumbled, reaching out blindly for anything to steady yourself.

Your hand found James’ wrist.

It lasted no more than a second. A brief, fleeting touch.

But the mark bloomed instantly. A faint, silvery imprint of your fingers seared into James’ skin, burning into you like fire. You barely stopped yourself from gasping.

You looked up at him, wide-eyed, but he hadn’t seemed to notice.

Not when the train smoothed out again. Not when you apologized, awkward and breathless. Not even when he threw himself dramatically onto the seat beside Sirius Black and launched into some exaggerated story about nearly getting run over by the trolley cart.

No, James Potter didn’t notice.

And you—stupidly, naively—chose not to say anything.

That night, something else happened.

James had wandered off near the Great Hall, eager to explore. You hadn’t seen it yourself, but you’d heard the aftermath.

How he’d accidentally collided with some stringy-haired boy—Snape, you later learned—who hadn’t taken kindly to it. How, after a brief exchange of insults, Snape had shoved him hard, sending him sprawling to the ground.

And how Lily Evans, standing right beside him, had bent down to help him up without hesitation, her fingers brushing against the exact same spot where your touch had landed hours before.

The same place your mark had appeared.

The next morning at breakfast, James practically vibrated with excitement.

“I got my soul mark,” he announced proudly, shoving his sleeve up his arm for his friends to see. His brown eyes gleamed as he turned his wrist over, marveling at the faint print resting there.

Across the table, you curled your fingers into a fist, tracing the exact same mark on your own hand.

Sirius let out a low whistle. “No way, mate. Who was it?”

James didn’t even hesitate.

“Lily Evans.”

Your stomach dropped.

Sirius and Peter erupted into cheers. Remus gave a small, knowing smile. James, however, didn’t seem to notice your sudden silence. His gaze was fixed on the other end of the Gryffindor table, where Lily sat chatting with Marlene McKinnon.

“She touched my wrist when she helped me up last night,” James continued, voice practically drenched in awe. “And when I looked this morning, the mark was there. It has to be her.”

The words rang in your head, over and over, until they were all you could hear.

It has to be her.

You swallowed, forcing a smile. “That’s… that’s great, James.”

He turned to you then, beaming, completely oblivious to the way your hands trembled in your lap. “I know, right?”

The others carried on, discussing soulmates and fate and how unfair it was that some people had to wait years to find theirs. You barely heard a word.

Because James had found his.

And it wasn’t you.

.・。.・゜✭・.

You told yourself it didn’t matter.

That James had made up his mind years ago. That he was happy. That if you just ignored the mark on your palm long enough, maybe the universe would, too.

It worked for a while.

Until it didn’t.

It was late one evening in the Gryffindor common room, just the two of you left by the dying fire. James was leaning back on the couch, feet propped on the table, glasses slipping down his nose as he rambled about something stupid Sirius had done earlier. His Transfiguration essay sat abandoned beside him.

And you—well, you were watching him like you always did.

Like you were memorizing every detail before it was too late.

You weren’t sure what made you say it. Maybe it was the quiet, the flickering candlelight, the way your heart had ached for too long. Maybe it was the fact that there was only weeks left of your seventh year, and time was running away from you.

Or maybe you were just tired of pretending.

“My soul mark appeared first year,” you murmured, tracing the faint outline on the inside of your hand.

James hummed in vague interest, not looking up. “Oh yeah? Who was it?”

You hesitated. Then, before you could talk yourself out of it—

“You.”

The silence was instant.

James froze, his fingers tightening around the arm of the couch. Slowly, he turned his head toward you. “What?”

You swallowed, heart hammering. “It was you, James. On the train. When I tripped.”

His expression was blank—like he hadn’t heard you properly, like his brain refused to process the words. Then, too quickly, he laughed, shaking his head. “No, that’s not—” He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “That’s not possible.”

Your stomach twisted. “It is.”

“No,” he snapped, sharper this time. His voice wavered. “Lily touched my wrist first.”

You flinched. The name—the reminder—hit harder than it should have. “She didn’t.”

James pushed himself up from the couch so fast his knee knocked against the table. His whole body was tense, hands curled into fists at his sides. He looked at you then, and for the first time in your life, he wasn’t James, your James. He was someone else entirely.

“This—” His voice cracked. “This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not laughing.”

He shook his head, stepping back like he needed distance, like being too close to you would make it real. “You’re wrong.”

“James—”

“No,” he interrupted, voice rising, something desperate in his eyes. “You’re lying.”

It hit you like a curse to the chest.

Because he believed you. You could see it—the panic beneath the anger, the way his hands shook, the way his jaw clenched so tight it looked painful.

But he didn’t want to believe you.

So he wouldn’t.

Your breath was unsteady. “I’m not lying.”

James exhaled sharply, running both hands through his hair, gripping at the strands like he could pull the truth out of his skull. His face twisted, torn between disbelief and fury.

And then he looked at you. Really looked at you.

Like you had just ruined everything. Like he hated you for it.

Your chest tightened, your heart splintering into pieces too small to pick up.

James exhaled, stepping back again. When he spoke, his voice was quiet.

“I don’t believe you.”

Your breath caught.

Because it wasn’t the truth. It was a choice. One you weren’t part of.

You nodded, throat too tight to speak.

James didn’t stop you when you turned and left.

And when you made it to your dorm, closing the door behind you, you let yourself break.

Masterlist

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[papillon-mechant]

Couldn't Resist

pairing - remus lupin x fem!reader

warnings - not proofread, smut, fingering and oral (fem. recieving), 18+ MINORS DNI

wordcount - 1.5k

You stir awake to the soft, familiar warmth of Remus’s lips pressing against your forehead. His touch is delicate, gentle in that way only he is—a silent apology for disturbing you. The early morning light is barely creeping through the curtains, casting a muted glow across the room, and you can feel him shifting beside you as he prepares to leave the bed. You’re still half-asleep, eyelids heavy and mind foggy, but you can sense him pulling away, and instinctively, you don’t want him to.

“Go back to sleep, love,” he whispers, voice rough with sleep, as if he can read your mind. His hand lingers on your shoulder a moment longer, and then he’s gone, slipping out of bed and moving quietly toward the door. You listen to his footsteps as they grow fainter down the hallway, his familiar shuffle as he heads toward the kitchen.

For a moment, you consider giving in to his suggestion and drifting back to sleep, wrapping yourself in the remnants of his warmth that still cling to the blankets. But something else starts to flicker in you—a feeling that starts low, insistent, impossible to ignore as you try to settle back under the covers.

You groan, flipping onto your back, fighting the urge to call out to him. It’s still early, you remind yourself, and Remus has a long day ahead of him. But the more you think about him—his gentle touch, the way he looked, tousled and sleepy as he leaned over you—the harder it is to lie still. Your mind drifts to the lines of his face, the warmth in his gaze, the quiet confidence in his every move. You want him, more than you care to admit, and every second you lie here by yourself feels like torture.

Finally, you give in, throwing the blankets off as you pad down the hall, feeling the cool floor against your bare feet. When you reach the kitchen, you see him standing by the counter, back turned, busy with the familiar ritual of brewing coffee. You pause for a moment, taking in the sight of him, broad-shouldered and relaxed, before your feet carry you forward of their own accord.

Without a second thought, you close the distance between you, slipping your arms around his waist and pressing yourself to his back. Remus pauses mid-motion, clearly caught off guard, but before he can say anything, you lift yourself onto your toes and lean up, peppering kisses along his shoulder, neck, and jaw until he turns to face you with an amused glint in his eyes.

“Couldn’t resist, could you?” he murmurs, a playful smile tugging at his lips. He brushes a hand through your hair, his fingers warm and soft as he studies you, clearly torn between teasing you and giving in.

You shake your head, a shy grin slipping through as you meet his gaze. “You left me alone in bed,” you say, your voice low and laced with the need that’s been building since he slipped away. You trail a hand up his chest, fingers tracing over the lines of his shirt, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your touch. “What did you expect?”

With a soft chuckle, he leans down, his lips brushing yours with a tenderness that sends a shiver through you. But this time, you don’t let him pull back. You curl your fingers into the fabric of his shirt, drawing him closer as you press your lips to his, pouring all of your pent-up need into the kiss.

It’s like a switch flips inside him. His hands slip around your waist, tightening as he lifts you with surprising ease, your legs instinctively wrapping around him as he holds you close. The warmth of him, the strength in his embrace—it all makes your head spin, and your fingers tangle in his hair as you deepen the kiss, savoring the low, pleased sound that rumbles from his chest.

After a breathless moment, he breaks the kiss, tilting his head back just enough to give you a mischievous look. “Needy this morning, aren’t we?” he teases, a hint of laughter in his voice.

You can’t even deny it, not with the way you’re clinging to him, your cheeks flushed and heart racing. “You can’t just kiss me awake and then leave,” you protest, giving him a playful pout.

With a smirk, he carries you to the counter, setting you down so that you’re perched just at his height, face-to-face. His hands settle on either side of you, and you catch the flash of something darker, hungrier in his gaze as he leans in close, his forehead resting against yours.

He takes your lower lip gently between his teeth, and when he pulls away you can’t help but chase after the taste of him.

As the kiss deepens, the playful teasing in his eyes gives way to something more intense. Your fingers trail down his back, urging him closer, and he responds by pulling you tighter against him. The warmth radiates between you, igniting a spark that sends shivers down your spine.

With every brush of his lips, every gentle tug of his hands, the world around you fades. He explores the curve of your waist, fingertips dancing over the fabric of your shirt, and you arch into his touch, craving more. The heat of the moment envelopes you both, and the playful air shifts into something more fervent, charged with longing.

“Remus,” you whisper against his mouth, and the sound seems to fuel the fire in his expression. With one swift movement, he grabs the hem of your shirt and yanks, pulling it over your head.  His lips leave yours to hover above your breasts, lingering briefly, before capturing one hard nipple. You moan softly, hands gripping tightly at the front of his shirt as his body sinks down lower.

His hand travels up the slope of your torso, coming to rest just below your breast. He grazes a finger over one nipple, rolling the tip between his thumb and forefinger. You suck in a sharp breath at the sensation, clenching your hips against him in response.

You watch, enthralled, as he moves lower, kissing the soft skin of your stomach as his knees hit the floor.  Without warning, he reaches down and runs his fingers between your legs, pushing your thighs further apart, looking at you as if he plans to make a home between your legs.

Your whole body tingles, goosebumps erupting on your skin. Even though you know what’s coming, anticipation curls low in your belly. As he presses his face closer you slide a hand into his hair, stroking gently as he starts working your sensitive bud with his tongue. The sensation is almost too much—your entire body feels alive and buzzing, buzzing with anticipation and desire as his tongue flicks across your clit.  He slips two fingers inside, making your hips jerk involuntarily, and you gasp, your breath catching in your throat.

You watch, mesmerized, as the dark curls that hang over his forehead curl ever so slightly. He’s so careful, taking his time to take every opportunity to tease you, even though you know he should be in a hurry to get ready for work. Slowly, his fingers start to stroke faster, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins and leaving your core pulsing and wet. Every muscle tightens as your legs begin to shake violently; your head falls backward against the wood of your kitchen cabinets.

He doesn’t stop, keeping up a punishing rhythm as he strokes you faster, his other hand stroking across your breast agonizingly slow, until you come undone, crying out sharply as he sucks hard enough to cause you to bite down on your bottom lip. After several moments of silence and stillness, you slowly open your eyes, and when you do you’re met with the most beautiful sight: Remus watching you with a lazy half smile, eyes sparkling with satisfaction, fingers and chin slick with your wetness.

You blink slowly, still breathless. Remus’s smile broadens as he watches you regain your composure, his fingers still lingering on the skin of your thigh, brushing softly.

“Look at you,” he teases, his voice low and velvety, “all worked up and unable to resist.” He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “I hope you're still this eager when I get home.”

Before you can respond, he captures your lips in a sweet kiss that sends butterflies dancing in your stomach. The kiss is gentle yet electrifying, a perfect blend of tenderness and lingering desire. You melt into him, savoring the taste of him, as he pulls away just enough to gaze into your eyes.

“Now, don’t you think it’s time you got back to bed?” he says playfully, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Can't have you distracting me all morning now, can I?”

You giggle, feeling a little dizzy at the prospect of what he might do with you later. Reaching up, you trace your fingers lightly down his cheek, relishing the faint stubble there, and a soft groan escapes him. “I suppose not,” you laugh, your tone light and teasing, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and hooking your ankles around his waist. “Carry me, then. Please?”

“Haven’t you learned by now that I’m never going to refuse you, love?”

Masterlist

Requesting Guidelines

[papillon-mechant]

literally on my knees for drummer!James, idk if it counts but if it does I would love it !!!

-send me drabble requests!

drummer!james potter x fem!reader, a bit suggestive

"Do you think you'd let me bite your biceps?" you ask James, the world slowly settling down in your eyes. "I promise I'll be gentle."

He laughs so bright, you can't help a stupid smile forming on your lips. He holds your waist to keep you steady, wavy hair falling on his forehead, and his arms fully on display.

"Who are you and what have you done to my girlfriend?" he asks, laughs again when you lift your head for a kiss.

"I'm not drunk," you say. "But your arms-"

You're not drunk, that's true. James would say you're slightly tipsy after a few cocktails you had as you watched their band play. His eyes followed you even when he had to pay attention to playing, he was flirting relentlessly with you and his drums. You remember getting yourself another drink because suddenly everything around you felt hotter.

"Come here," he tells you, gets you into a somewhat emptier corner in the bar. You see Sirius shouting at something behind, Remus is there too, they laugh and you turn back to your boyfriend. Gorgeous boy with a gorgeous face. James Potter has been blessed by divine beings, he helps you sit down on a bar stool and you hold onto his arms. His arms.

"What were you thinking when you put this shirt on tonight?" you ask. "Because it's like you're trying to give me a heart attack."

He steals a quick kiss from your lips. You taste like something sweet, your lip gloss got messed up, and you're eager for another kiss. Your fingers squeeze his arms and you let out a soft noise. You're really glad for being tipsy, it gives you new ways to be courageous.

"You played so good," you tell him. Your lovesick eyes, he loves looking at them. He fixes the smudged mascara with his thumb. "But you know that already."

"Always nice to hear," James says. He knows it's time for silent confessions of love in the crowded bar, an invisible bubble around both of you as he gets praised by his lover girl. "I played for you. Got this shirt on for you. I even practiced extra to look at you without making a mistake on the stage."

"You did?"

"Yeah," he murmurs against your lips. "I love when I get to see my girl admire me. Your eyes get all wide and you keep squirming in your seat, did you notice?"

"James-"

Your words are silenced as he presses his lips on yours in a proper kiss. His fingers are tired, he keeps them on your neck as the cute top you wear exposes your skin to him. He needs a drink, maybe you'd want one more, too. James thinks he lives for that admiring looks you give him, your gentle praises and smiles, your greedy hands on his arms.

You break the kiss and take a deep breath. He looks sinful, but still your boy under all this drummer persona. He just carries it so well, a new part of him, you like seeing him embrace something he loves. The band will do better in time. You know you'll always be in front of the stage to watch them play like they were born for this.

"The shirt is a good choice," you manage to say. "If I didn't make that obvious enough."

James smiles. You want to pinch his cheeks and play with his hair.

"I'm loving this new side of you, angel," he says. "Gonna look for more shirt options, see if I can find something more revealing on the arms."

You let him have fun with the new knowledge he has on you. He deserves it after being so good on the stage.

[papillon-mechant]

My birthday is in 8 days, should I do a little birthday celebration? Idk it feels like no one is active on the Harry Potter side of Tumblr anymore.

[papillon-mechant]

rating: 18+. mdni.

pairing: stepbrother!regulus x reader

word count: 1.1k

content: stepcest, dubcon

regulus’s bedroom is right beside yours. his door seeming to hold more weight than the others, your stomach feeling heavy at the mere sigh of it. you’re quiet as can be as you wander into your bedroom, light on your feet and holding your breath to rid the empty halls of any noise. you’re fearful to garner his attention before you can slam the door shut behind you once you’re in the safety of your own bedroom. it’s always safe in your space. most of the time anyway. regulus doesn’t like the fact that on the other side of the thin walls, your other older brother, sirius, likely lays lazily in his bed, scheming one thing or another.

you nearly jump out of your skin when you notice regulus sitting on your bed. his back is reclined on your headboard, his lithe fingers holding some novel, the pages weighing the right side of it down as he nears the end. he doesn’t look up as you enter, but you know he knows you’re here.

stupidly, you reach for the doorknob anyway.

“leaving already?”

your eyes flicker back to your bed, regulus stormy eyes now fixed on you. he remains as expressionless as he always is, but there’s a small flash of amusement within them that disappears as quickly as it appears. you don’t speak for a second, your lips glued shut as your blood runs cold from the mere intensity of his gaze.

before you can mutter out some unconvincing excuse, he speaks again. “come here.”

you swallow thickly, the feeling of dread heavy in your stomach. you take slow steps towards him, drawing out the time before you walk right into his arms.

you stop as your knees hit the edge of your mattress, the thick bedding brushing your skin. you look up at him, finding his eyes fixed on the flowing skirt you suddenly regret slipping on in the morning.

his hand slides beneath it, his touch splayed over the plush flesh. “I said come here.”

you had known what he meant. you knew that he wanted you to climb onto the bed and perch yourself on his lap. to present yourself to him and give him access to you.

you climb onto the bed, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. regulus taps his fingers against his thigh, his eyes locked on you as you move. you swing your leg over his lap and sit down, your hands clasped together in front of you like an obedient trained dog. you watched as his eyes roamed over you, filled with hunger and lust.

his hands rest on the tops of your thighs, roaming over the expanse before dipping to the inner area, squeezing the flesh there. he pushes the hem of your skirt up, baring even more of your skin to him but what catches his eye is the baby pink panties hugging the lips of your pussy. his thumb brushes over the front, right over your slit. you jolt at the touch, your hand twitching to push his touch away but you manage to keep it in place. regulus brushes his thumb against you again, the pad of his thumb circling the area where your clit sits, his head tilted to the side and his eyes glimmering with smug, mocking amusement.

“you were out late,” he murmurs, glancing back down to where his thumb now circles your clit through your panties. “where were you?”

“it’s mary’s birthday,” you say softly. “she had a few people over.”

regulus hums, disapproval laced within it. “and you went.”

you nod, already knowing what’s to come.

“in this… skirt.”

you nod again, muttering a halfhearted excuse, knowing he won’t believe you anyway. “the others were… dirty.”

regulus looks up at you, not the slightest bit surprised by your attempt at deception. “ah, yes. I’m sure all those appropriate dresses in your closet are so filthy.” he moves your panties to the side, parting your pussy lips and exposing your inner lips to the chill air.

you know what he’s doing. he’s inspecting your cunt, making sure no one has touched what he believes he’s entitled to. what is his.

his finger slides between the folds, the tip prodding at your dry entrance. he hums, pleased. “were you a good girl tonight?” he looks up at you again, his eyes locked on yours for any sign of hesitation.

you nod your head, but you’re words come out slightly fearful. “yes… there were… boys there,” you pause to watch regulus’s reaction, noting the subtle clench of his jaw. “but I… I didn’t talk to them, I promise. I walked away every time.”

“good,” regulus says, giving your clit a light pinch that makes you jump and hiss in discomfort. “wouldn’t want to give you another lesson so soon. think you had enough last time, huh? taught you real well.”

you stay silent, letting his touch roam your pussy. he sticks his fingers into his mouth briefly, coating his digits to aid his gliding hands exploring your tense body. his eyes flash with satisfaction and lust when your hole begins to drip with your essence, raising his fingers to your mouth that you obediently take, sucking them clean.

“that’s a good girl,” he purrs. “look at you learning so well already. you’ve only been here a few months and look at how obedient you are…” you think back to his cruel punishments, knowing better than to disobey.

he pats the side of your thigh. “lay down. you’ve earned a nice reward, sweet girl. would you like that?”

your stomach feels heavy but you know better than to show it, instead nodding your head and moving off his lap. you slowly lift your shirt over your head, slowly and teasingly as regulus has taught you. he lets out a small groan, his hand raising to paw at your tits, squeezing them and ghosting over your pebbling nipples.

you lay down next, sliding your skirt off before slowly peeling your panties away, baring yourself. regulus rises to his knees, still fully clothed. you spread your legs wide, allowing him to see your pussy completely.

“good girl,” he emphasizes, yanking his pants down just enough for his cock to spring free, hard and leaking like it always seems to be when you’re around.

“no crying this time,” he says, his heavy cock slapping your clit. “I hate when you do that. I could be a lot meaner than I am and if you keep up all that weeping, I won’t hesitate to show you.”

you nod again, bracing yourself for his inevitable harsh thrust, impaling you completely with one swift move. “I won’t… won’t cry. I’m… I’m strong.”

“that’s right,” he says, giving your cheek a light and almost loving tap, his hips meeting yours as he thrusts meanly. you bite your lip, holding back your tears with everything in you. he smirks, “my strong little sister.”

[papillon-mechant]

Commission for anonymous - a gift for Remus🤭

Click for full version / Alternative

[papillon-mechant]

biting problem

remus lupin x afab!reader ⊹ 1.2k

cw ⟢ mdni +18, smut, swearing, praise, slightly dom!remus if you squint, lots and lots of biting, intended lowercase

remus has only ever had one biting incident, but as his transformation draws closer, he can't seem to hold back a territiorial demanding itch.

a/n: re-evaluating my life and why i have no remus

remus never really classed himself as particularly territorial, considering his condition, but he can admit that sharing isn’t exactly his forte. why should what’s his be someone else’s as well, he just couldn’t justify it—in his mind sharing isn’t caring because he’s only getting less.

this sentiment extended quite far into remus’ life, he didn’t think he was territorial over you. again, he’ll acknowledge he could be a bit possessive, if anything, blaming his split-natured mind. the wolf in him if you will.

when he stumbled into the bathroom, rubbing his eyes roughly, sluggishly leaning on the doorframe—still clad in his boxers. his eyes only focused when he heard the smallest wince leave your lips, almost fully ready for work, padding closer to you his voice laced with its usual gravelly rasp, “you alright, dove?”

you hummed a soft, “yeah,” but you neck was craned, uniform unbutton and shoulder bare as you applied some sort of cream. now he was behind you, fingertips ghosting over you shoulder and eyebrows furrowing upwards in concern. “mmm, what’s that then*?*”, he plucked your hand from its spot, taking a good look at the tiny red mark. it wasn’t a hickey, no, there was one a few centimeters down—just the one, though.

“when’d ya get that?”

he turned you towards him, his hands now resting in the familiar dip of your waist, you rebuttoned your shirt, aligning your collar and nametag—before tilting your head up. placing a soft kiss on his lips, he leaned down and into you, leading you both backwards. palms caging you in as they slid over the bathroom counter. light and airy sighs bouncing off the walls—when it clicked.

oh god, it was evidence of the night before.

he pulled back, a shocked look striking his face, “did…did i nip you when we—?”, the pink tint that rose to the tops of his cheekbones as he clearly recalled your activities made a giggle bubble in your chest.

now, remus was nothing if not a gentlement, opting to only occasionally leave marks on you—and always in place no one else could see.

but this time, not only was it unintentional, it was much more precariously close to be a bite mark than remus would like to admit. he looked mortified by this realisation—stammering strings of; “i didn’t mean to—does it hurt, dove?—m’ sorry,”

hushing him with a final peck, you went about the rest your day, completely oblivious of the embarrassment remus felt for the rest of his.

it was times like this when remus’ possessive tendencies truly shone. typically a few days before his transformations he would be clingy, low-energy, occasionally irritable but overall nothing you couldn’t handle.

this month however, you had no idea why he was so insatiable. and neither did he, to be honest, one minute you were comfortably lying in your bed, phone in one hand, the other combing lazily through his curls, remus’ head on your stomach—perfectly innocent.

the next, remus had a firm grip on the round of your hips, rocking feverishly against you.

and when he pressed his face into the curve of your neck, teeth just barely scraping over the spot he’d marked before, you felt it—how hard he was fighting against the instinct to do it again.

but it was the whine that proceed to pour from you lips that did it. he was already teetering on the edge, but with the next moon so close, he just really couldn’t help it.

your breath hitching, feeling him shift, now using the weight of his whole body to fuck into you, the angle now impossibly deeper—stretching you out, “thaaat’s it, c’mon c’mon–”, brows knitting together tightly, he was so desperate, utterly drunk on you.

a low growl rumbled in his chest as he buried himself in the crook of your neck, teeth scraping, tongue soothing, lips pressing desperate, possessive kisses along your skin.

“mine,” he whispered between each press of his mouth. “mine.” and you were gasping, entire body wracking with sensitive shudders—one hand tangling into the tufts of hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. the other—palm pressed flush against the skin of his stomach, poorly attempting to reduce the weight of his heavy thrusts on your swollen lips.

“fuck—” he hissed, interlocking your fingers in his, bringing your hand away, “don’t—don’t push me away, dove,” head lolling to the side, exposing the trail of bites marks and hickeys that were littered from behind your ear, alllll the way down to your, now sore and sensitive nipples.

broken cries, ”rem—fuck, s-so”, his thumb drawing rough, frenzied little circles on your clit. jolts of electricity running down your spine—nails raking down his back, arching into him.

“sooo pretty for me, take it—haah, you can take i-it,”

walls clenching down so sinfully around him, his pace didn’t let up, the bed groaning out creeks under the pressure.

so dizzy from the pleasure, hips stuttering into, then bucking away from his; torn, conflicted. he couldn’t have that, no, taking his arms and hooking them under your knees, trapping your hips beneath his, no escape. the new angle had him pressing to deliciously against that spot, your eyes rolling into your head, “o-oh, oh! ’close—rem, rem!”

his jaw slacking, freckled cheekbones reddening with every push, push, push-

“m’here, m’here—y’feel s-so good,”—his rich, honeyed voice breaking at the end, dropping one of your thighs to hold your hand—at least grounding you as he worked you through your high. low gasping moans of, “fu-y/n-y/n-y/n,” tumbing past his lips through his last bullying thrusts.

letting out a shuddering breath, he fell onto the bed just barely next you. limbs still tangled together, his fingertips brushing the hair that’d stuck to your forehead away.

he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, your fucked-out expression, the aftershocks still wracking through as he cleaned you up.

peppering small kisses in the spaces absent of marks that already began to blossom and bloom. words soft, just above a whisper—“you with me, love?” and “did so good,”— trying to bring you back down to earth. dressing you in a shirt of his, coaxing you to take small sips of water, soothing your slightly coarse throat.

when the next morning rolled in, you’d woken up to a hot bath, cup of tea ready and the most remorseful looking remus you’d ever seen. and it only got worse when we watched you strip off his tshirt—his fingers traced over the marks he'd left behind, guilt evident in the furrow of his brows as he surveyed the evidence of last night’s desperation—bites, bruises, and hickeys scattered across your skin more than it wasn’t.

his lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to apologize again, but all that came out was a soft, guilty chuckle. "oh, ‘m so sorry, angel," he murmured, pressing an almost too gentle kiss to the worst of them. "really didn’t know I’d done such a number on you…"

just sending him a biteless glare, grumbling lowlt about needing a turtleneck.

my first time writing smut, so pls be nice x

[papillon-mechant]

rating: 18+. mdni.

pairing: sirius x reader

content: infidelity

sirius had been a dream at first. his impulsivity and recklessness were a sort of turn on for you in the beginning when life had been to take more of a serious turn. university was coming to an end, and graduation was just around the corner when you stumbled upon him for the first time. his onyx locks messily draped over his head, obscuring his eyes as he held a cigarette between his lips, the scent of smoke and whiskey radiating off his body like a sick cologne.

sirius was charming to a fault—not that he would personally think so, the girls tripping over themselves only inflated his ego. sirius could get whatever he wanted and more with a simple sly grin or a few pretty words. that was how he landed you, too. he wormed his way into your life seamlessly, almost too easily. and you’ve come to learn that he simply did it just because he could. you’re not stupid enough to think that sirius really loved you anymore.

sirius had lost interest as soon as the responsibilities of the real world started to kick in, acting more and more petulant with every argument about needing to grow the fuck up. it was baffling to you that sirius couldn’t manage even the most basic of tasks, simply throwing money at whatever he deemed below him. which you’re quickly learning is everything. things between you have been tense for months, with you wanting to take life seriously, and sirius wanting to fuck about with people as immature he is.

it wasn’t necessarily a big surprise when sirius was home less and less, spending a majority of his days in places you’re not aware of (he’d always refused to share his location with you but insisted you share yours with him). even less so when your texts were left on read and your calls went unanswered. sometimes, the only indicator that sirius had come home at all is the mess in every room, the hair on the bathroom floor, and the cash left on the table.

what did come as a surprise, was the significant decrease in sex. sirius was nearly insatiable at the beginning of your relationship, pawing at you whenever possible, sticking to you like a leech until he managed to get between your legs. but as the days went on with minimal advances, you couldn’t help the worry bouncing around in your head. while sirius may not love you, you still loved him.

the loud crashes against the wall as you entered your house sent a feeling of dread down your body, already knowing what you were going to find as soon as you opened the door to your bedroom. you almost debated if you should go in at all. if you should save yourself the heartbreak of actually witnessing his betrayal but you decided that you wouldn’t give sirius the satisfaction of finishing what he started.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen sirius look so flustered and… guilty than he did in that moment, mounted on top of another girl, her legs thrown over his elbows. his hips and stilled instantly and we went white as a sheet, the beginnings of what you almost couldn’t believe was an apology on his lips.

as soon as the girls moans had come to a stop and her eyes met your disappointed face in the doorway, they both began to move. the detangling of limbs and distance forced upon them as sirius’s cock slipped out of her, sticky and dripping with their combined juices. sirius hadn’t even bothered with a condom.

you didn’t even look at the girl as she scrambled past you, hurried apologies spilling from her lips. your eyes stayed fixed on sirius as he slowly stood, only bothering to slip on a pair of underwear when your eyes ventured down to his dripping cock.

you could only stare at him as the excuses began, the apology you thought would spill from his lips turned out to be nothing more than a feeble excuse, a supposed misalignment that he swore he would work on. but you’re not stupid enough to believe him anymore, simply turning on your heels and blocking out the pleas that tumble from his pink lips.

[papillon-mechant]

Just a reminder that my blog is 18+ and if you don't have a visible age on your page you will be blocked

[papillon-mechant]

hi! can i get hard dom!remus with puppy!reader? tysm

Hi! Hope you like this!

"Come on now puppy, I know you can do better than that." Remus taunts, shaking his head in mock disappointment. He leans his body against the headboards, folding his arms behind his head in such a casual position, it's like you're not even there.

But you are, and you're working so hard. You lean forward, giving a small yap in Remus' ear as the change in position drives his cock further up your wet cunt, hitting your spot just right.

"Just a pathetic little pet, can't even ride a cock properly." Remus growls, grabbing hold of your hips and thrusting his hips hard into yours, driving a string of desperate barks from your throat. One of his hands leaves your hip, moving behind your body and grabbing hold of your tail.

You yelp in pleasure and pain as he tugs hard on your tail then lands a hard smack on your ass. You pant harder and harder as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge, relishing in the feeling of Remus' cock hard inside you as he continues to tug lightly on your tail.

"Are you close puppy?" He asks, stilling your hips, much to your dismay. You bark pleadingly, trying to continue the movement of your hips, which earns you a particularly hard tug on your tail.

"You wanna come with me? Want me to fill you up, get you nice and full of my pups?" Remus uses one of his hands to scratch behind your ear, something he knows drives you crazy as he begins moving his hips again, giving you long hard strokes.

You bark in excitement, your cunt dripping at the idea of being filled with Remus' puppies. Placing your paws on his chest, you take control moving your hips at a vigorous speed. Remus groans, throwing his head back in pleasure.

"Good girl," he moans, "gonna get you nice and full, you'll be having my puppies in no time."

[papillon-mechant]

I love your stuff.

Can you do Poly wolfstar and reader. Maybe the reader is self conscious and doesn’t want Remus and Sirius too see them. They have a talk and Remus and Sirius show how good the reader looks or something?

Hi thank you! hope you like this! it's kind of long, sorry lol.

It's silly really. You've been with Sirius and Remus for a few months now, and they were amazing. You couldn't ask for better boyfriends. The wait on you hand and foot, they show you more love than you've gotten from any other relationship. But there was still one small issue. You'd yet to let the boys see you fully naked.

It wasn't that you didn't trust them. You trusted them more than anyone else in the world. But there was still that little voice in the back of your head, telling you that you weren't good enough, that the sight of you naked would repulse them, scare them away.

They're very respectful of your boundaries. They've never tried to push you to do something you didn't want to, and they never stopped telling you how beautiful they thought you were.

One day, after a long day of classes, all you wanted was to go back to the boy's dorm and lay in bed with them. On your way to their dorm, Remus catches you walking, stopping you before you can enter the room.

"Just a minute love, put this on." Remus pulls out a long piece of black silk, holding it in front of your face. You look at him, confused on how you were to put this piece of fabric "on" anywhere. He chuckles and turns you around, placing the piece of fabric over your eyes and tying it in the back.

Your heart rate rises as your body fills with fear and anticipation of your boyfriend's next move. Remus places a gentle hand on your back and slowly guides you into the room. When you enter, your senses are immediately filled with the sweet smell of your favorite candles, and you can hear the record player quietly playing your favorite Frank Sinatra album.

"What's going on?" You giggle, turning your head to face Remus even though you didn't really know where he's standing. He shushes you and leads you further into the room. You recognize the path and understand that your final destination is the bathroom. Remus leads you in the room, stopping when you're both comfortably inside, and finally removes your blindfold.

When your eyes finally adjust to the light, you look around, seeing the bathroom covered in a dim lighting. There are candles scattered about, and in front of you sits Sirius on the edge of the tub, filling it with warm water and mixing in your favorite scented bubbles.

"What's all this?" You ask, your heart swelling with love and appreciation. Sirius stands up, engulfing you in a warm and loving hug before pulling back and planting a small kiss on the top of your head.

"We noticed how stressed you were today," Remus starts, slowly pulling your robes off your body, kissing your every inch of skin that exposes itself along the way.

"So we decided to help you relax," Sirius finishes, assisting Remus in unbuttoning your shirt and skirt. The feeling of your boyfriends doting on you, loving you, it distracts you from the fact that you were getting closer to a state you'd never allowed them to see you in.

Suddenly, they both pull back, and you're brought back to reality, understanding that the only thing standing between your naked body and the eyes of your significant others are your bra and underwear. Even though it's such a beautiful moment, your mind can't help but cloud with negative thoughts.

The boys must have noticed the change in your demeanor, because they exchange a small look before they turn to you with soften expressions and nothing but love behind their eyes.

"We know love." Remus says, kissing your forehead.

"I'm sorry," you start, tears welling in your eyes, "I love you both so much, and I know you love me, all of me. I don't know why, my head just fills with these awful thoughts." You're crying now, and Sirius frowns, pulling you into his body and letting you rest your head in his neck.

"What if you think I'm hideous?" You whisper. Remus scoffs, pulling your head from Sirius' neck and holding your face in his hands.

"Nonsense, you are the most beautiful being I've ever laid eyes on." He coos, wiping a falling tear from your cheek.

"Hey! What am I? Chopped liver?" Sirius quips, earning a small giggle from you and an eye roll from Remus. Sirius pulls away from you, holding your body at arms length and looking you in your eyes.

"He's right my love, we could never see anything but your beauty."

You nod. Wiping your tears and taking a deep breath. Stepping away from Sirius' grasp, you keep your eyes down as you remove your final pieces of clothing, fighting the urge to cover yourself with your arms. Your eyes are still on the ground when you hear Sirius whisper under his breath,

"Bloody hell."

"Shit." Remus remarks. You slowly rake your eyes up their bodies, not missing the tents beginning to form in their pants, before you land on their faces. They're both staring directly at you, eyes wide and filled with something that can only be described as hunger.

"Um...so?" You quip meekly, not really sure what you're asking for.

Suddenly, you can't stop the yelp that passes your lips as Sirius moves at almost lightning speed, attacking your breasts with both hands.

"Padfoot!" Remus yells, smacking him in the back of the head, "Bad dog!"

That was super long lol sorry. Hope you liked it tho