#james being a munch for 2k words basically

[yallthemwitches]

How about these two prompts in one:

“Spread your legs for me.” … “Spread them wider.” 

Hands firm on their thighs, keeping them from snapping them shut. 🫢🫣🥵

(Cannot contain excitement 🤭🤭🤭)

Hello again!

So I cheated (?) and mushed a lot of the prompts into one piece. This one goes with your prompt, plus “Look at you coming undone before I even touch you," and "Let me take care of you, yeah?"

Also, just generally I wanted to add another entry into the "James Potter is a munch who loves his girlfriend/wife's pleasure more than himself cinematic universe."

Thanks to everyone who submitted a prompt! I'll keep working on them!

Read under cut or on AO3 here

“The troll wars of the sixteenth century were disrupted by the —James.”

“Hm?” He doesn’t remove his lips from her neck, nipping down the side with his tongue trailing after to lick away any possible pain he’s caused.

“We need to study— we both have history of magic on friday and god knows you haven’t even looked at your notes.“

“I’m listening. Go on, keep reading.” But she has a hard time believing it, because her attention is not even on the words she is saying anymore, rather following the trail of his fingertips under the hem of her skirt.

She continues, but her voice falters on a word. She repeats the sentence once, twice… by the third try, she can feel James’ lips smiling into her collarbone, the hand under her skirt now massaging circles into her inner thigh. 

“You are stressing too much about these exams,” he murmurs, moving his lips up to hers, dragging his tongue against the seam of her mouth. 

“You’re clearly not,” she mumbles back, finishing the quip just before a small gasp bubbles out, his hand below hooking around the strap of her knickers. 

Her eyes flutter closed for a split second, enjoying the lull of his touch, but she wrenches them back open, alarms starting to sound in the back of her mind.

“James—“ she hisses, “Quit it—this is the library…people will see.” 

But he either isn’t listening or doesn’t care. His eyes drift open, just long enough to take a visual scan of the nearby bookshelves before diving back on her, lips moving at a deliberate slowness so she can feel every plea of his tongue as he coaxes her mouth open against his. 

“Just relax Evans—read the lesson and let me take care of you, yeah?”

Right as she is about to ask what exactly he means by that, the warmth of his body disappears and she opens her eyes to see him sliding under the table, a wild grin beaming from his face. 

“Christ, Potter. What are you—“

But the answer becomes evident. She feels two calloused hands start at her ankles and slowly glide up her legs, fingertips like feathers trickling their way to the soft flesh between her thighs and stopping just before the place where the thigh meets the torso. 

“I can’t hear you reading, Evans,” he teases from the darkness under the table, amusement crackling in his voice. She lets out a low noise of discontent: he’s absolutely mental if he thinks she can focus on Troll Wars while he’s down there. 

She wiggles her legs a bit, sliding them side to side as a ploy to get him to do something other than rest his fingers on her upper thigh, but he makes no further movements—his intention to stall clear until she follows direction.

She can feel heat pooling just inches away from where his hands lay with irritatingly zero pressure and moves to alleviate it herself. She begins to clamp her thighs shut but he moves instantly, hands pressing hard down into her thighs and prying them open wider so that her knees are almost in line with the corners of the chair. 

“No way. I need you to spread your legs for me—as wide as you can, then start reading because I’m trying to study here.”

She has half the mind to kick him, but just as she attempts to jut out her leg, two hot hands press against either side of where her thighs and center meet and something hot and damp takes one long swipe against the center of her knickers. 

She doubles over the table, bracing herself with her hands to not completely collapse her cheek against the surface. His mouth hovers against her middle, hands still holding her open, but he stalls again, making himself clear. 

“I can’t hear you reading…c’mon Evans—I’m a kinesthetic learner...”

Arsehole. Breathing shallow, she straightens herself, feeling his fingers contract slightly on her thigh. Her center is so hungry for his touch again that it’s buzzing, all her body heat leeching to the one singular place where his mouth lingers. 

“Godric—you are getting so wet…” She doesn’t hear him say it, but she can feel it, his lips so close to the fabric that the words tickle her core. “Look at you coming undone and I haven’t even touched you yet…”

In another moment she would have called him arrogant, but the overpowering need for him to touch her keeps her mouth tight. She takes a haggard breath and picks the textbook back up, willing to play along if it means feeling less like an insect squirming on a pin.

“T-The Troll War of—of Fuck Baby.”

Finally, the stalemate ends. His mouth descends on her, fingers tugging away the soaked fabric of her knickers to press kitten licks into bare skin. Sparks of light dance across her vision, and her reading falters, unable to get her eyes to focus on the words much less anything else besides his tongue. 

“Merlin Lils, you’re dripping.” A finger dips into her with zero resistance and the sound of his fingers pumping into her wafts its way up into the room. She claws at the surface of the table, not able to find purchase and wishing she could reach for his hair and push his tongue in alongside his fingers.

“James—“

All pretense of reading is abandoned, James now solely focused on one goal only: to taste her come. He nibbles at her clit, alternating repetitive strokes of the tongue with soft sucking. She squirms against him, unhappy with her lack of mobility in the scenario—usually she is able to at least touch him back, but his spot under the table makes it too difficult to slide her hands down to find him.

“Come fuck me,” she gasps, getting restless. “I don’t bloody care who sees, come take me up against the shelf and let me come on your cock.”

A low gutteral noise echoes from below. “Fuck—-Fuck Lily—you saying that...”

For a moment he stalls, deliberating the proposition with her clit between his lips, then he begins moving again—twisting fingers, repeated laps, a thumb circling the bundle of nerves at the center of it all.

“No—come first,” he says, pulling her thighs impossibly wider. “Then I’ll give you what you want.”

It’s unbearable, the pleasure building in her body. He adds more pressure, focusing on the exact spots he knows will make her unravel the fastest. It takes an act of god to keep her eyes open, always watching for some stray student to wander past and see her keeled over and panting against her homework.

Stripes of color litter her eyesight, the pleasure mounting right where his tongue lingers, coaxing her to finish in the same rhythm of his hand. She covers her mouth, unable to hold back moans as the sensation culminates, crashing down on her like warm rain. 

“Shh—just a little more…” 

Little is an understatement. Her body trembles, head falling down against the cool grain of the table.

“James, baby I—.” 

It is loud enough to echo against the high dome ceiling, but she doesn’t care anymore. He continues even after she has come down from her climax, stroking the now sensitive skin until a bubble of laughter pulls him away. 

Slunk against the table, she doesn’t register he’s moved until her chair skids backwards with her in it. Now out from his hiding spot, he stands in front of her, mouth glistening and a feral look gazing back from under his lenses. Her eyes have only seconds to zero in on the very obvious tent in his pants when she is shot backwards, now pressed against the nearest shelf with dust raining down on her. 

“I ready to fuck you now.”

His tongue slips into her mouth and she tastes herself heady on his tongue. He bunches up her skirt enough to rip down her knickers, pocketing them in the process and she fiddles with his waistband, taking care to grind her hips forward in the process. 

She has to admit, It’s her favorite part.

When he goes down on her he is all power, commanding her body much like he does a broomstick: with lithe, domineering movements encompassed in complete awe. But after, after when he has the trophy of his name pouring from her lips and her taste surging against his tongue– then he is finally able to give in. He melts completely for her.

“Lily–” he coos when she finds the smooth skin of his cock from inside his pants and shoves his trousers down just enough to release him. 

 “Merlin you’re amazing–a dream…I mean, fucking christ.”

She laughs at his adopted muggle swear while busying herself with hiking her leg around his waist. He takes her ass in both hands, holding her wedged against the bookshelf. 

“I’m going to dock points from you for making too much noise,” she says with laughter trickling out. He grins back, not even denying his penchant for being vocal. 

“Do it, take it. Best loss of Gryffindor pride I’ve ever wallowed away.” 

Turns out she is just as bad as he is. He pants between her breasts, dipping in and out of her with a swift ease, aided by the remains of his earlier work. She grips everywhere at once, the creaking wood of the shelves, the rattling tomes behind her, his shoulders, and especially his hair. She cries into his neck, biting down as a means to silence herself but getting a little more mileage when the action makes James’ hips snap forward, the new angle shooting her back off the ledge and landing her somewhere past human thought. He follows after, gasping her name against her as he shakes in release. 

In all, it's a miracle they aren’t caught. 

“So much for our history of magic NEWT,” she sighs, absently trailing a hand through his hair and down the nape of his neck while his heartbeat slows under her. He enjoys being inside of her for just a moment longer, fully aware the second they separate the real world will rush in.

“What are you talking about?” He looks up with his glasses askew on his face, eyes dreamy and serene. She has the urge to kiss him, so she does.

“I’ll never forget the Troll War for as long as I live now—who knew shagging was a very effective study strategy.”

She laughs and he pushes their foreheads together, wishing he could bottle the sound.