Summertime And Sundresses

baby bumps | remus lupin x female!reader

just a small drabble I thought about with a friend! @dancing-in-the-moonlight3

summary: as you come months along your pregnancy, you steal more of remus’s sweaters.

warnings: female reader, pregnancy, pure fluff

Keep reading

Overheard (TASM!PeterParker x Reader)

Summary: A moan—soft and quiet and muffled by closed glass, but very clearly coming from the other side of the velvety curtains that were blocking his view into your room. Shit. Peter gulped. Did you have a guy over? He hadn't known you'd been seeing anyone, and the thought of his best friend rolling around in the sheets with a guy he hadn't even met somehow set a flame of something ablaze in the pit of his stomach.

Words: 1.7k

A/N: lots of cursing, non-graphic but includes unseen masturbation, sexual innuendo, flirty best friends, making out & implied sex; college-aged characters

Peter's feet landed firmly on the rickety metal of your fire escape; perhaps a bit too firmly, the rusted metal creaking dangerously beneath him. He frowned—your apartment was old and rundown, but, as you mentioned each time he expressed his concerns, it was rent-controlled and much better than your childhood home in "Bumfuck Nowhere" as you so affectionally called your hometown.

He'd texted you just minutes earlier before leaving his place—it was several blocks away, but the trip was quick when superhuman agility and web-shooters were involved, so he slipped his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and checked to see if you'd replied—you hadn't.

Your curtains were drawn, which was odd. Peter knew you loved the way the sunlight filtered between the buildings and seeped into your bedroom, creating a small patch of warmth right where you'd placed that ratty old wingback chair you'd made him carry home from the Salvation Army for you. Plus, your window faced nothing but a crumbling brick wall and you claimed to love the aesthetic of urban decay.

Even if you hadn't seen his text, you'd presumably heard him landing outside your window, but the curtains remained opaque.

Peter was about halfway through processing the thought of possibly using the regular entrance to your apartment—he had a key, after all, though he'd never needed one—when he heard a sound that made his heart skip a beat and his cheeks turn deep crimson.

A moan—soft and quiet and muffled by closed glass, but very clearly coming from the other side of the velvety curtains that were blocking his view into your room.

Shit. Peter gulped. Did you have a guy over? He hadn't known you'd been seeing anyone, and the thought of his best friend rolling around in the sheets with a guy he hadn't even met somehow set a flame of something ablaze in the pit of his stomach.

Another moan, this one a little more desperate. Peter felt gross all of a sudden, but found himself frozen to the spot, overthinking the situation, as he chronically did when it came to you. It was something that couldn't be helped—he might have had super strength, but you were enough to make his knees go weak.

Still, this was invasive. It was weird. He would throw twenty-one questions at you later, when you weren't...doing whatever and whoever it was you were doing at that moment. Swallowing that odd little feeling the was clawing up his throat, Peter turned to go, but ice flooded through his veins at the next noise he heard.

Peter.

His name. Your voice. There was no doubt about it. What the fuck?

Peter allowed himself to listen, really listen, and his ears pricked at the sounds no other person would be able to hear from his current spot. The shuffle of skin writhing on soft sheets, the irregularity of quickened breath, a heartbeat like a hammer.

A heartbeat—just one. Besides his own, of course, which was currently going wild pulsing in his ears. You were alone in there. Alone with your thoughts and your fingers and his name on your lips.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Now he really had to go. The jealousy—for that was what it was—that had reared its ugly head only moments earlier had quickly shifted to something like excitement, a deep thrill, chased by a pang of shame that he had accidentally intruded on your most intimate of moments. You would absolutely murder him if you found out he'd been—

F-fuck. P—peter. It was a whimper this time, a barely there gasp.

His jeans suddenly felt tighter. Okay. He could do this. He'd slip away from the fire escape, walk around the block once, and then use the front entrance for the first time ever. That wasn't suspicious at all. He'd just stroll up the six flights of stairs to your floor, knock casually at your door, you'd pull yourself together and...well, no harm, no foul.

Peter nodded to himself and zoomed away as quietly as he could manage.

Meanwhile, coming down from a blissful high in your rumpled sheets, you reached toward your bedside table for your phone, eyes growing wide when you saw an unread message from Peter.

Just finished studying for Bio. Be there in 5.

It had been received 12 minutes ago and you knew when Peter said 5 minutes, he meant 3. Barring some psycho trying to burn New York to the ground, he'd arrived on your fire escape anywhere from 7 to 9 minutes ago when you'd been—

A knock at the door interrupted your train of thought and you blanched, all colour draining from your face as you rushed to throw on a pair of yoga shorts and an old t-shirt—for fucks sake, why were the only t-shirts in arm's reach ones you'd borrowed from Peter?

You knew it was him before you opened the door—no one else came to visit you. And if he was using the front door it meant he'd been detoured from using the fire escape window and that meant—jesus christ, it meant he'd heard you getting off to the thought of him.

"Hi," you breathed, trying to play it cool as you swung the door open to reveal Peter's face. He looked guilty as sin. He hadn't even been able to keep his secret identity from you, much less something as ridiculous as overhearing you masturbating.

"Hi," Peter replied, entering as you made space for him in the doorway. He avoided your gaze and your own eyes slid over his body, noting the way he faced away from you, hands hovering awkwardly near his crotch.

"Since when do you use the front door?" you asked lightly, closing and relatching the entrance in question. Peter shrugged, settling himself on your sofa—another piece courtesy of the thrift store. Initially, he'd hated the thing, but you'd restuffed the cushions to get the lumps out and now it smelled like you—vanilla and shortbread and old books and familiarity. It had even been christened with a tomato sauce stain from when he'd brought over Aunt May's lasagna that had never fully come out, even after two years.

"How was studying?" you asked, puttering uselessly around the kitchen and ignoring the heat on your cheeks, the odd fluttering in your stomach.

"Not bad," Peter answered, "I'll ace the test." You made a noise of acknowledgement in your throat. Of course he would—he was the smartest person you knew. "What have you been up to?"

Posing the question, it was the first time Peter met your eye since arriving, twisting himself to look over at you. There was mischief in his eyes, a daring look that said I know perfectly well what you were up to and I bet you won't tell me.

You decided to give him a run for his money. "I was thinking about that time we went to the beach last summer," you said coyly, a smirk tugging up at the corners of your lips, "Remember when we got so wasted we thought skinny dipping was a good idea?"

Peter half-laughed, half-gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing prominently in his throat. "I remember," he said, "I was scratching sand out of god forsaken places for days."

"Pete," you chuckled, "There's not a single god forsaken place on your body."

That turned him red—good. There was a beat of silence and before you could blink, he had you pressed between his body and the cold laminate countertop. Damn superhero abilities.

"I could say the same for you, Y/N." His lips were hovering just over yours and from the way his hips rested against you, you could feel a bulge pressing into your abdomen. Part of you wondered if you'd fallen into a post-orgasm dreamworld, but Peter's familiar scent grounded you, reminded you that this was all very real.

"You heard, didn't you?" you whispered, not breaking eye contact. Peter licked his lips, nodded once.

"I did," he confirmed, faltering for a moment, blinking as shame pained his beautiful features, "I'm sorry—I didn't—"

"Don't apologize," you said, hooking your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans and pulling him closer—if that were possible. "It's okay. It's...good." There, you'd put it out into the world. Your move, Parker.

"Yeah?" Peter's pupils had dilated and he'd leaned forward to press his forehead to your own. You swallowed thickly. He was as into this game as you were.

"Yeah," you repeated, "Because now I can do this." You kissed him, pushing yourself up onto your tiptoes to meet his lips. It wasn't the first time you'd kissed your best friend—not by a long shot—but it was the first time you'd kissed him like this, like your entire existence depended on it. He responded in kind, thumb coming up to caress your cheek as he deepened the kiss. He pressed himself further into you, using one had to lift you up onto the countertop. That in itself as enough to make you groan—he was so strong.

Peter settled himself between your thighs, kissing you with abandon, allowing his tongue to swirl against your own, pausing only to nip at your bottom lip, kiss along your jaw, bite gently on your ear lobe. For their part, your own hands skidded along his muscular arms, coming to rest on his shoulders and then at the nape of his neck, tugging at his mussed hair and eliciting a noise of approval from him. You found that you liked it very much and wondered what other noises you could get him to make.

Peter broke his lips away from you for a moment, the sheer willpower of such a pause making him light-headed. "You sounded so pretty," he said, "With my name on your lips."

Your mouth made a little "o" as you blushed deeply, the comment somehow innocent and lewd all at once. "Well," you replied, gathering yourself, "I hope you'll do me the kindness of letting me hear the same from you." The thought of your name falling from his lips in ecstasy had you shifting in your seat for some friction.

Peter smiled wickedly, "Oh, Y/N, I'll do you any kindness you want."

twin flame: george weasley x reader

twin flame (n.): an intense soul connection, sometimes called a “mirror soul,” thought to be a person’s other half. it’s based on the idea that sometimes one soul gets split into two bodies. one of the main characteristics of a twin flame relationship is that it will be both challenging and healing. this is due to the mirroring nature of a twin flame; they show you your deepest insecurities, fears, and shadows. but they also help you overcome them and vice versa—your twin flame will be equally affected by you.

completed

add yourself to the taglist :)

key: ❁ smut, ☽ angst, ☼ fluff

part one ☽☼

part two ☽

part three ☽

part four ❁ ☼

epilogue ☼

One Granted Pleasure

One Granted Pleasure - A Loki One Shot for Loki’s Library Discord “Extreme Kink Collab Challenge”

(LOKI X READER)

After being thrown in jail for his attempt to take over Midgard, Loki is restless. In order to placate him, Odin and Frigga grant their son one pleasure per month. Months have passed, and Loki has decided he wants his one granted pleasure to be more than just extra books or a nice meal. This month, he has declared that his one granted pleasure will be you - in his cell, alone, with the ability to do anything he wants to you.

Word Count: 4233

Part of the “Extreme Kink Collab Challenge” on AO3 by the Loki’s Library Discord Server

Master List

NSFW, SMUT, DOMINANT LOKI, ROUGH SEX, EXHIBITIONISM, DEGRADING, BONDAGE

When Loki was thrown in jail on Asgard after his attempt to conquer Midgard, he was allotted one pleasure per month.

It was Frigga’s way of still caring for her son even though he was under severe punishment. She was able to furnish his cell and feed him more than the cheap grub the other prisoners got, but that was all Odin allowed. He had, however, agreed to one pleasure per month, in order to prevent Loki from attempting to break out of his cell. He assumed that giving Loki a bit of leisure would make him less likely to rebel, so he permitted this decision to move forward.

In the beginning, Loki asked for books, a special meal, the occasional dagger - “no, mother, I will not be using it to break out, I just want to intimidate the other prisoners and have a bit of fun, of course” - but it quickly got boring. Loki had figured he would be out of jail within a month or two, perhaps even half a year if things were going slowly up above. However, that wasn’t how events were playing out. Months went by and Loki was finding that it seemed there would be no way out soon. It was then he began considering these granted pleasures with more thought.

He ordered more extravagant gifts, ones that would bring him comfort, but they never succeeded. Something was missing, something that would calm the storm that constantly brewed within him. It was a question he could not find the answer to.

Until he saw you.

( CONTINUE READING HERE )

Fic requests are CLOSED! Be sure to check out my AO3 for more Tom Hiddleston and Loki angst, drama, fluff, romance, and smut!

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Bee’s One Shots Tag List: @lots-of-loki​ @hiddlesholic​ @procrastinatinglikeabitch​ @nancybenson​ @ladyblablabla​ @anagrom​ @heartforhiddles​ @memenerdlover​ @bellesque​ @fluffyfanficangel​ @frostbitten-written​ @toozmanykids​ @dangertoozmanykids101​ @eli-vibes​ @michellearel1​ @nomadmilk​ @is-it-madness​ @cholcomb01​ @myraiswack​ @hanyasnape​ @merrymaking88​ @jessip1ier​ @lordofthenerds97​ @worshipping-skarsgard​ @siochan-leat​ @fixatedfandomhunter​ @davidbuddbg​ @readsalot73​ @caffiend-queen​ @ciaodarknessmyheart​ @myblissfulparadise​ @tea4sykes @arianoct​ @cap-n-ce​ @bourbon-in-my-coffee​ @rogueheretic555​ @sifinskies​ @astheworlddturns​ @harold231 @creator-appreciator​ @ohdearhiddles​ @luna-viola-delmare​ @beanisintrovert​ @sllooney​ @imnotrevealingmyname​ @cottoncandy1010​ @coastall-girll​ @lokislastlove​ @americaan-tragedy​ @kiliskywalker666​ @tom-ben4ever​ @rhemasky​ @ragnarachael​ @catsladen​ @dragonmaiden70 @fyrecrafted​ @tehgvicious​ @onesmokinbabe​ @delightfulheartdream​ @amberlokabrenna​ @vipervixxen​ @curlyred2020 @what-a-flammable-heart​ @sweet-talkin-woman​ @tomhiddlestoe @pandaxnienke​ @xx-lokiizsmexy-xx​ @elisabethvanroseblood​ @erisofmischief​ @han68000​ @castiels-majestic-wings​ @slutformarvelmen​ @servent-alearika​ @lokis-leah​ @arch-venus25​

fic recommendations

• arranged - r.b x reader (angst)

• no second chances - draco malfoy & neville longbottom x reader (angst, fluff)

• peach // mechanic!rw x reader (angst, smut, fluff)

•my enemy || s.b x reader (angst, slight fluff)

• loyalty || wolfstar!dads x reader (angst)

• love lost || d.m x reader (angst)

• out of love || draco x reader (angst, fluff)

• always you || j.p x reader (angst, fluff)

• under the table || remus lupin x reader (smut)

• my good boy || james potter x reader (smut, fluff)

• corrupted || r.l x reader (smut, dark fic!!)

• birthday punishment || remus lupin x reader (smut)

• attention || james potter x reader (smut)

• presents || draco malfoy x reader (smut, step!dad au)

• later || draco malfoy & theo nott x reader (smut)

• worthwhile || theo nott x reader (smut)

• point of view || draco malfoy x reader (angst, fluff)

• let us go || s.b x r.l x j.p x reader (angst)

• college parties || draco malfoy & theo nott x reader

i will add more in future !!

pose | s. black

summary — “Pose.” He says, “show your husband how good I've been slutting you out all this time.”

warnings — infidelity (?), daddy kink, pet names, fingering (light), filmed sex, oral sex (male receiving), innocence kink, cream pie, degrading, praise.

word count — 1.9k

author’s note — just so y’all know, this is divorce lawyer!sirius, i didn’t know how to deadpan it in the fic lmao but yea.

———

Voice quivering you gasp, “Sirius- what if he- fuck!- what if he walks back in?”

Sirius scoffs, “let him, see how he feels when he catches another man balls deep your pretty cunt.” You whine, head knocking back on the wooden desk, letting the brunette resume his kissing on your neck, soft skin puckering with goosebumps at the contact of his lips.

His skilled fingers drum over your sopping sex, collecting your slick in them, he brings them to his mouth; you fucking throb at the sight.

“You’re so sweet I could feast on you for a living, doll,” he purrs, eyes darkened with fervent lust.

Keep reading

Welcome to the Masterlist for The Rite, exploring the murky depths of another of my questionable Asgardian headcanons, complete with nonsense eroticism and gratuitous clothing choices.

The Rite: As an invisible member of the wider Asgardian court, everything changes when you catch the eye of the elusive Prince Loki under unconventional circumstances. Pressured by time (and his brother) Loki is reminded he must complete a particular Rite in order to secure his place in Asgard's succession - all he needs is a partner. But adhering to the strict rules in the approach to the ceremonial Rite is more challenging than hedonistic, smugly smouldering Loki anticipated...as are his growing feelings for you. A link to my regular Masterlist is HERE One - A Royal Audience (w/c 3.7k) Two - Successional Pleasure (w/c 4.8k) Three- Coming Wednesday 26 June Four - Coming soon Five - Coming soon Six - Coming soon Seven - Coming soon

helloooo i am so grateful to have found your page🥹 i’ve recently become hyperfixated on lupin again & your fics are a godsend!!

small request: (of age) student often visiting lupin for office hours although she doesn’t need any help; lupin secretly infatuated w her since the start of term, he’d been imagining her in various ways while he was alone & playing w himself; fluff & intimacy & smuttttt

i know you’re super busy so feel free to get to this whenever u can or even want to, love! thank you!!

Tea, Professor Lupin?

Masterlist AO3

Summary - You always found an excuse to visit Professor Lupin in his office hours. After a cup of tea one evening, you end up straddling him, grinding yourself against him. This is the beginning of many more encounters, until one afternoon he can't take it anymore and has you against the wall of his office. (2,229 words)

Warnings - teacher/student, age gap, biting, marking, making out, grinding, dry humping, rough sex, unprotected sex, my grammar (english is my second language), not proof read.

Notes - Thank you for your kind comment Anon! I had a lot of fun with this one. I don't even know if it all makes sense but I hope you enjoy! Little surprise at the end!

Remus Lupin sat in his quarters, a parchment lying forgotten in front of him, quill dried from lack of use. His mind, usually focused, was a mess of conflicting thoughts, of forbidden emotions, all centered around one person: you. Merely thinking your name sent a rush of heat through his loins. 

It was a torturous loop, playing over and over in his mind—the way the light from the window caught your hair, turning it into a shimmering halo; the way your lips parted slightly when you were lost in thought; the curve of your collarbone peeking out from the neckline of your school uniform, leading his gaze to places it shouldn't wander.

He remembered the way your skirt would hitch up slightly when you sat down, revealing just a bit more of your thigh, nothing inappropriate, but enough to stir a feeling within him—a reminder that he was, after all, a man.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and there you were, that demure look in your eyes, the slight flush on your cheeks, your skirt hiked up around your waist exposing the pale skin of your thighs. In his mind, you were kneeling right before him, looking up through long lashes, waiting for his command. The imagery was so vivid, so erotic that he could feel your breath on him. 

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, painfully aware of the growing tightness in his trousers. He palmed himself, pressing down on the hard ridge beneath, trying to alleviate the tension. But the contact only made it worse. A low groan escaped his lips as he decided to give into the sensation. 

There was no turning back now. The need for release, the burning desire, became overpowering. With trembling fingers, he unbuttoned his trousers and slid his hand inside, palming the warm, hard length of himself. He freed himself from the confines and began stroking, starting at the base and moving upwards, his thumb brushing over the sensitive tip. The sensation made his hips jerk in response and he couldn't help letting out a low curse. 

His thoughts spiraled further into fantasy - your soft moans, the fluttering of your eyelashes as you looked up at him, your lips stretched around him. A breathy "fuck..." escaped his lips as he felt himself nearing the edge. 

The tension coiled tightly in his lower belly, building with every rhythmic motion of his hand. His grip tightened, and he quickened his pace, driven by the impending climax. And then, with a final, desperate thrust into his own hand and a barely suppressed shout, he came, warmth spilling over his fingers in thick, pulsating spurts. His heart pounded in his ears as he tried to catch his breath, a lingering feeling of guilt for letting his mind wander like that. 

He told himself it was the last time he would give into such forbidden fantasies, although he knew his resolve was not very strong. Because you were his weakness. Every day you were his weakness. 

Every office hour you were his weakness. You would show up, knowing you absolutely did not need help with anything. Your intentions were not exactly pure; it was more about the man behind the desk than any lesson he might teach. You just wanted to be with him. To see him. To feel his gaze on you. So here you were again, hesitating at the door before knocking softly. 

"Come in," he called. 

You entered, your eyes finding his immediately. "Professor Lupin," you began with feigned innocence, "I was wondering if I might use your office to study? It's so quiet and calm here." 

He looked up, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Of course, Y/N," he replied, gesturing to a small desk by the window. "You're always welcome here."

You settled into the seat, trying to focus on your textbook, but acutely aware of the intensity of his gaze. Every so often, you would catch him stealing glances in your direction. His eyes would travel, lingering on your legs when they shifted or the curve of your neck when you leaned over your books. 

For Remus, the ritual became a torturous loop. The simple act of you being there, so close yet so far, tormented him. He found himself lost in his thoughts, the pages of his book becoming a blur. The tightening in his trousers a cruel reminder of the tension in the room. 

As the weeks went on, your interactions grew less formal. You would often arrive without a pretense of studying, and your conversations flowed easily. So much that one evening, you walked in without knocking, a playful grin on your face. "Professor," you teased, "I thought I might stop by for some tea and company." 

Remus chuckled, setting aside his paperwork. "Dropping the excuses, are we?" he responded, warming to your presence. 

You shrugged, your face glowing in the light of the fireplace. "Perhaps. I've come to appreciate our little talks." 

He summoned a pot of tea and poured you both a cup. "So have I," he admitted, his eyes searching yours. You both settled on the couch, the warmth of the fire creating a cozy atmosphere yet there was an undeniable tension. 

In the midst of your conversation, you drew nearer to each other, perhaps unconsciously, your knees brushing every now and then. Remus's every breath became a battle against his own desires, the proximity testing his resolve. 

He shifted uneasily, the close proximity awakening a forbidden hunger. "Y/N," he began, voice slightly raspy. "It's getting late. Perhaps you should head back to your dorm."

Your gaze moved from his eyes to his lips, your voice soft and innocent as you murmured, "But Professor...I don't really want to leave." 

He swallowed hard. "I don't want you to leave either," he almost whispered, every word heavy with the unspoken desires. "But I wouldn't want you getting in trouble..." Even as he spoke, he found himself leaning in, the pull impossible to resist. You were so close now; your breaths intermingled. 

You had every opportunity to pull away, but you didn't. And then the distance between you vanished as his lips met yours. The initial contact was tentative, a gentle exploration, as if he was asking permission. But the restraint soon faded as the kiss deepened, rapidly transformed into one of burning need. 

In an impulsive move, you swung a leg over, straddling him. You could feel his very evident arousal against you, making him groan as you began to move. 

"We shouldn't-" he managed, his voice thick with lust. But his protests were silenced by another deep groan, spurred by the rhythmic pressure of your movements against him. His hands, once hesitantly placed at your sides, now gripped your hips with a possessive fervor, guiding you as you continued to grind against the hard ridge of his length. 

Your moans and whimpers were intoxicating. His mouth trailed to your neck, biting and sucking on the delicate skin, tasting your warmth, leaving a territorial mark on you. The pace of your movements increased until you were unable to hold back anymore. He felt your body tense, a telltale sign of your climax, and his control slipped away rapidly. The soft whimper in his ear was all it took to push him over the edge. His hips jerked involuntarily as a sticky warmth seeped through his trousers. 

You stayed like that for a few moments, foreheads touching, catching your breaths and coming to terms with the line you'd just crossed. Remus looked mortified. "I...I'm sorry," he murmured, a hint of embarrassment in his voice. "This shouldn't have happened. It can't happen again."

You looked at him, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. "No, it shouldn't," you replied sarcastically. And that's when he knew he had corrupted you, or perhaps you had corrupted him. It didn't really matter anymore because every evening, the ritual repeated. The pretext of "tea" had become a thinly veiled excuse for the intimate encounters that transpired between the two of you behind the closed door of his office. 

Remus was not even trying to dissuade you anymore. More often than not, he would pull you into his arms as soon as the door clicked shut. Your lips met, and the world outside disappeared. A light bite on your lower lip would elicit a whimper, and his mouth would quickly travel to your neck, where he discovered you were more sensitive. He reveled in these moments, intoxicated by the power he held over you. He loved marking you, a visible claim that you were his, although he knew he had no right as your Professor. 

There were nights where your need for intimacy transitioned from the physical to the emotional. He would be sprawled out on his office couch, and you would nestle yourself on top of him. His fingers would thread through your hair, and he would lean down to press a gentle kiss on your head. "How was your day?" he would ask. 

"It was okay. Potions was...intense," you murmured, the hint of a smile playing on your lips. 

Remus chuckled lightly. "Snape still giving you a hard time?"

You shook your head, your fingers dancing over the fabric of his shirt. "No, not really. I think he's just...Snape." 

Remus laughed softly. "True. That man is an enigma." He paused, his fingers stilling in your hair. "Y/N, we...we need to talk about this," he began, his voice hesitant, "about us." 

You lifted your head, your eyes meeting his, filled with a mix of fear and hope. "I know," you whispered.

He sighed, pressing another gentle kiss to your forehead. "It's just...our positions...it's complicated. I should've never allowed myself to act on my feelings. I had no right."

You shook your head, a silent tear rolling down your cheek. "But Remus, I feel safe here, with you. I want to be with you." 

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you tightly. "I feel the same way," he admitted. "But we have to be careful." 

You nodded, burying your face in his chest. "I understand."

Yet, his actions never followed his words. He would eat you alive with his eyes every class, touch himself to the thought of you at night, or pull you aside in the corridor to steal a kiss in the middle of the day. 

The sight of you, there in the hallway, acted as a siren's call. It was different this time. His gaze was not soft and playful. It was predatory and it went straight to your core. Without a word, he snatched your wrist, his grip firm, and pulled you along towards the closest room- his office. 

"Remus? What's going on?" you began, a bit surprised. 

"You," he growled, pressing you firmly against the wall. "I can't get enough of you," he breathed against your neck, his fingers working with a frenzied haste to lift your skirt and push down your panties swiftly. You gasped, sensing the barely contained need in his every movement. 

With a groan of frustration, Remus quickly undid his trousers. His erection was painfully hard, and he pressed it against you, savoring the wet heat and intimacy of the contact. "You feel that?" he whispered harshly, grinding against you. "This is what you do to me." 

You could barely respond, your breath hitching as you felt his tip rub against your entrance. "Please, Remus," you panted, your nails digging into his shoulders, back arching against him. 

He didn't need any more encouragement. With a sharp thrust, he entered you, burying himself deep as your legs hooked around his waist. 

"Fuck, Y/N," he grunted. "You feel so good." Every thrust was hard and frantic, the slap of your bodies echoing in the confined space. 

You clung to him desperately, your body rising to meet each of his powerful thrusts. The pleasure was almost too much, and soon you felt that familiar pressure building. "Remus," you whimpered, your walls clenching around him as you reached your climax. 

Feeling you tighten around him was his undoing. "Fuck..." he cursed again, thrusting even more relentlessly. "Gonna fill you up," he rasped. "Take it. Take all of me." 

Without further warning, he buried himself to the hilt, holding himself deep inside you as his release overtook him. You cried out, the intensity of his climax and his depth almost too much to handle. Each pulse of his length seemed to go on forever, filling you completely. 

Finally spent, he rested his forehead against yours, both of you panting heavily. He remained inside you for a moment longer, the soft pulsing of his length a lingering testament to what had just transpired. Slowly, he pulled out, his seed trickling down your thigh and onto the polished wood below, only for it to vanish with a flick of his wand. 

In a daze, you felt your panties being pulled back up. Moments later, you were back on the familiar couch, his arm wrapped protectively around you. 

Floating towards you were two cups of steaming tea. Remus looked down at you, his eyes still dark but with a hint of mischief. "Tea, Miss Y/N?" he teased. 

You smirked, taking the offered cup with shaky hands. "Why, thank you, Professor Lupin." 

in my mind remus have a BIG breeding kink

YES YES YES!!!

remmy would have the biggest fucking breeding kink.

even when you were still in hogwarts, every time you fucked, he’d beg to go bare. you were on birth control, so you were mostly safe, but that lingering 2% that it’d fail always got to him.

he’d always be muttering stuff in your ear while he fucked you.

“want me to fuck my pups into you?”

“gonna look so pretty with your belly all swollen with my babies.”

and don’t even get me started when you’re out of hogwarts and discus children, that man would lock you away in his bedroom for days just to fuck you, coming inside of you over and over and over again until the test shows up positive.

Stephen Strange Stephen strange

with America Chavez with Peter Parker