Jasmine

gulps first time in a while writing smut, please don’t hate…

“You’re doing so well. Fuck, keep your tongue out juuust like that.” Sukuna purred, looking down at you. You were planted on your knees, both hands placed innocently in your lap, gaze locked onto crimson eyes.

For the past hour, he had been teaching you how to give a good blowjob. You were totally fucked out, completely forgotten how you ended up in this situation—especially with a man who had a reputation for having girls running out of the room, bursting into tears.

But you didn’t care about that, and besides, you were getting the hang of it. At first, you didn’t even know what to do with your hands or mouth when his dick was right in front of your face. You wouldn’t admit it, but it scared you. Not because of anything bad, but because of how big it was.

It was as big as your face; it was at least eight inches or more, and you’ve never seen a cock this big- well, at least face to face. You may or may not have watched a bunch of videos of guys jerking off on Twitter, but seeing it in real life. You couldn’t deny that it made you nervous.

Sukuna bit his lip while a tattooed hand gripped your hair tightly; the other hand held the base of his cock, slapping the tip against your flattened tongue. His abs flexed at the sight. Your pupils were blown with lust, and drool was dripping down the side of your chin. You looked like a slut.

What made Sukuna even more turned on by this whole situation was that you were the shy, nerdy girl in his class, and when you first asked him to teach you how to give a blowjob, for the first time in his life, he was stunned.

No one would've thought you would ask something along those lines. But you wanted to learn, plus you also wanted to try it out for the first time. But with the way Sukuna was groaning your name like he was getting the best dick sucking of his life. It seems you may not need this teaching.

"Let's see how pretty you look with my cock on your face. Hm?" You nodded rapidly as your tongue slid back into your mouth. Sukuna smirked, watching as you closed your eyes when he dragged his cock around your face.

“Enjoying this?” You murmured, peeking one eye open to stare up at the pink-haired man. He shrugged, moving his length to the side of your nose.

“I don’t know, am I?” He teased, flashing pearly white teeth. The same grin you always saw when he was being egotistical—you tried your hardest not to roll your eyes.

“Seems like it…”

Sukuna doesn’t respond. Instead, He placed his hand flat around his cock while the other hand that was gripping your hair moved slowly down to your neck, holding onto it tightly. Not enough to cut your airway, but enough where you felt the rough pressure in his grip.

“Shh and be a good girl.” He began to thrust into his hand. It was slow in the beginning, his gaze heavily locked on you. As if he was admiring the way his cock looked, rubbing against your skin.

Sukuna couldn’t deny that this was the kinkiest shit he’s ever done with a girl. All the other times he had fucked someone, it was either too vanilla or the girls wouldn’t be into the stuff he was into. They’d either decline or think he was weird.

But now that he’s thinking about it, he may have found the one for him. Who knew the nerdy girl could be as kinky as he is?

You were completely cock drunk again—mind hazy, your thoughts tangled until they barely made sense anymore. Eyes fluttering shut, your mouth gapped open as you withdrew your tongue, slurping and licking the side of Sukuna's length that was right in front of your mouth.

His massive hand roamed all across your face as he continued to thrust faster against your face. His Eyebrows furrowed—lifting up- while his plump lips parted slightly.

You hollowed your cheeks, and the feeling alone could’ve made Sukuna cum in an instant. You whined against his cock, moving a hand up the front of his leg; the tip of your nails dug into his skin, making him hiss.

It was so messy. Spit all over your face, your hair sticking against the side of your cheek. The sound of him groaning, you slurping all over his dick and your muffled whimpers filled the room. It looked and sounded like something straight out of a porn film, or the kind of scene you’d only expect in a feverish dream.

“Who knew you were such a slut for cock.” He murmured, his voice raspy and filled with lust. You opened your eyes at his degradation. Peering through your lashes, your eyes caught onto his. You didn’t feel any sense of shame. If anything, you felt more turned on.

Without thinking, you moved your hand between your thighs, pushing your panties to the side, not long before you begin to rub slow circles around your clit, the sensation immediately made you whimper against him.

“Fuck, you're so hot,” Sukuna rasped, quickly moving his length from your face—which makes you whine in protest. Holy shit, you were cock drunk for him.

“Hey! Wha… What are you doing?” You questioned, as an eyebrow raised, flopping down both hands on your lap.

He chuckled at your neediness, pumping himself right in your face. Pre-cum spilled out from his pink tip, and you couldn’t help but want to clean up all the salty-sweet slick.

“You look pretty with my cock on your face.” His teeth sank into his swollen bottom lip. “Now I want to see how good you look with my cum on it.”

rockstar!sirius black x reader

summary: sirius longing for his lover in the arms another 🍊

warnings: smut so 18+ / mentions of voyeurism / brief mention of childhood abuse / because it’s sirius / closeted wolfstar / implied poly!wolfstar x reader i swear i will actually write it eventually

1972

He is not supposed to be here.

He’s got a show tomorrow in Denver, but instead he's spent all morning in your living room feeding six-inch singles into your record player and reviewing them like he's a music journalist and not part of one of the most successful rock bands of the decade. You're laid out on the floor, the ceiling fan doing little to quell the baking California sun that’s made you strip down to your underwear.

A burning cold hits your stomach and you scream. Sirius laughs, a freezing bottle of Pepsi Cola pressed into your sweat damp skin. 

“Asshole.” you say, taking the bottle anyway. You fumble around for a bottle opener, but he takes the bottle away from you and pries the lid off with his teeth. He sits down across from you, head against your moth-eaten sofa and legs spread wide.

“You’ll break a tooth doing that.”

He grins. “Wouldn’t be the first.”

He pulls the left side of his cheek back to reveal a missing molar at the back of his mouth.

“Drunk?” you ask.

Sirius shakes his head. “My mother.”

“Yikes.”

He hums, his eyes burning into the side of your head as you take a sip of your drink, some of it spilling down your chin and chest. When you see his hand brush over his crotch in your peripheral you roll your eyes.

“You’re gonna tell me about your mom hitting you and then get yourself off?”

“Just enjoying the view.”

“Why are you here, Sirius?”

He sighs dramatically, pouting as he leans his head against your moth-eaten sofa. “I wanted someone to look after me.”

“Your boyfriend not doing a good enough job?”

He laughs, a little sadly, nudging you in the hip with his toe. “He's fine. We’re just...”

On tour. Might lose everything if anyone sees me sneaking into his hotel room.

“Well,” you say, rolling over onto your front and starting to crawl in his direction. “Good job I like looking after you so much.”

The game is always fun. Give and take. Be mine. You both know he belongs to another. And you could never belong to anybody.

“Mm,” he hums. “I know you do.”

The carpet is rough on your forearms, sticky skin on nylon fibre, as you make a show of laying your head on his jean-clad thigh. The corners of your lips quirk up when you realise he’s obviously not wearing any underwear - his fly is undone, bulge straining obviously against the ridiculously tight denim. It looks delectable.  

He hisses when you take him out of his trousers, hand coming to the back of your neck.

“Your hands are cold.” you grumble.

“They won’t be in a—oh fuck.”

You take him into your mouth slowly, only tongue swirling lower and lower until you can feel the tip of him at the back of your throat.

You don’t have to look up to know what he looks like. Head to the ceiling, sweat trickling down the pale skin on his neck like morning dew on a snowdrop. 

“You're so good,” he groans, as you work your head up and down, moaning around his cock when his hand fists in your hair.

He yanks your head back after about a minute, rushing you up into his lap and pulling your underwear to the side. It’s quick, sweaty, wet - the way he dips his fingers into you, until you're sighing and soft to the touch. He pulls his hand away, adjusting himself in line with your entrance and groaning at the sight of himself against you. His voice is dazed when he speaks, inching you down onto his cock:

“I could watch him fuck you."

You grin. “Maybe I’d watch him fuck you.”

Sirius growls, hands squeezing your hips hard enough to bruise and starting to thrust up into you like he’s trying to prove something. You can’t say that, though, because he’s hitting a spot inside you that makes it hard to see, let alone speak. You can feel him everywhere, the two of you entangled in sweat and humidity and the taste of Pepsi when he finally pulls you down for a searing kiss.

You try and mumble against his sticky lips,  ‘I—“ 

He knows - he always knows - moving the hand on your left hip forwards to pinch your clit until you scream into his mouth. He laughs when your teeth clash, your lips apparently incapable of doing what you want them because you're just about to fall over the edge.

“That’s it, baby,” he says, hands - warm now - cupping your cheek. He laughs when you open your frenzied eyes to meet his. “That’s it—”

His laugh turns into a hiss, losing his breath when his own release arrives and he comes, the spurts between you making you both even stickier than you already are. 

"You ruined my carpet.” you say between breaths so heavy you can barely hear the ceiling fan anymore.

He follows your gaze to the spilt bottle of Pepsi beside his hand. 

Sirius rolls his eyes. “I’ll pay for another one. Or Moony can fix it, he’s very handy, actually—”

He lights up when he starts talking about Remus. It has always been like this, ever since the first time you fucked him backstage in California, and you asked him why he stared at his rhythm guitarist like he was the only person the world. 

"You gunna bring Moony next time you rock up on my doorstep at 5AM without any warning?"

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader

Summary: Sirius wastes ten dollars of recording tape in the studio and Remus decides to teach him a lesson.

Warnings: NSFW / but smut is marked with ** / so you can skip it if you want / implied groupie reader / voyeurism / drug and alcohol use / smoking / duh it’s the 70s / sirius black being a diva /

1974

“Again.” 

Remus’ voice is steady as a drum, even though they’ve been at it for hours. 

“Oh, come on,” Sirius groans from the recording booth. “That one was fine!” 

“You were too quiet.”

“But I thought you liked it when I was loud—”

A buzz sounds as Remus turns a knob on the switchboard, silencing Sirius’ whining. The entire world outside of the control room goes mute, and you watch Sirius put his headphones back on and give Remus a reluctant thumbs-up. 

“He’s such a drama queen,” Remus mutters, leaning into the smaller microphone on the production desk. “From the top.”

The tape starts again, the click-click-click of the reel scratching something in your brain that makes you lean your head back into Remus’ shoulder. The red recording light turns on, and Sirius starts to sing again.

You have no idea what time it is — there aren’t any windows in the recording studio, so the entire space takes on a permanently dusky appearance. The walls are a sandy colour, blurring in and out of focus against the smoke drifting from the joint between your fingers. 

James and Peter left maybe an hour ago, the only evidence of their presence being the empty Coca-Cola bottles strewn around Peter’s drum set and the five guitars placed on the floor like a druid’s stone circle. 

You’ve been making your way through a six-pack and picking at the leftover McDonald’s that Marlene had dropped by earlier. At some point, you’d gravitated into Remus’ lap, and now you’re curled into his side like a denim-clad cat.

“Pass that here, would you, love?”

You pass your joint over to him, and Remus swipes his thumb over your wrist in thanks.

“Finish your fries,” he says, without looking up from the mixing desk.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten anything today.”

“I ate, like, a pack of Oreos.”

He turns to look at you with an unimpressed expression.

“And like, six beers.” you continue, hands raised in defence. “They have carbohydrates.”

His face doesn’t move, eyes aggravatingly firm beneath the fringe of his straw-coloured hair.

“You should be a teacher, y’know.” you tease. “You’ve got that passive-aggressive look down to a tea— OW!” 

Remus has pinched your thigh. You swat him in the chest, and he turns back towards the mixing desk.

“Don’t hit me,” he says, “I’m working.”

“Oh, so you can physically assault me, but I can’t defend myself?”

“Eat your fries.”

You huff, snatching the joint back off of Remus and making a show of stuffing salty fries into your mouth. If he notices, he doesn’t rise to it, proceeding to unplug a wire and reinsert it somewhere else with a satisfying click. His hands are so big that it’s quite impressive how deftly he can make his way around a switchboard, with its fiddly wires and knobs. 

“Do you think it needs another track?”

You shake your head, mouth full of fries. “Nah.”

At first, Remus had just thought you were another one of Sirius’ tour-wives, but he’d started warming to you when he realised you’d learned a thing or two about music production after hanging out around musicians for so long. He really warmed to you after you sucked his dick backstage last year, but that had come a few months later.

When exactly he became the sort of person who made sure you finished your fries, you aren’t entirely sure. 

He hums in approval when you throw the empty bag of fries in front of him. “Good.”

You crack open another can of beer.

“You sure you don’t want one?”

He shakes his head, nodding to the fifth cup of tea he’s drunk in the past hour.

Your gaze returns to Sirius as you take another sip. He’s wearing one your sequinned blouses, cropped at the waist on his long pale torso, and a pair of velvet trousers that hang dangerously low on his hips. His whole body ebbs and flows as he shakes the maracas he’s holding, hair falling like liquid obsidian beneath the low studio light.

His head angles back when he gets to the bridge, and you have to stifle a moan. He makes the same expression during sex. There’s something in the way his eyebrows pinch, almost as though he’s in pain — it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.

Or maybe you and Remus are both just masochists. 

The thought makes you laugh so hard that beer starts streaming out of your nose.

Remus frowns “What’s so funny?”

“Me.” You shrug, licking your lips clean of foam. “I’m hilarious.”

“You’re getting to be worse than him, you know.”

“Hey!”

He lets you whack him in the shoulder this time, before reaching his left arm around you so that his hand can find a home beneath the undone fly of your denim shorts. The wool of his fisherman’s jumper is warm against your thigh, and you lean further back into his chest. 

You twist your head against the side of his neck, mumbling into his warm skin: “Can I have a kiss?"

“I’m working.”

“But I finished my fries.”

He takes a long drag of the joint, before turning and leaning in to breathe it in between your lips. The taste of tea and lemon sherberts greets your tongue when you lick inside of his mouth.

“Whoa, can we keep it PG in there, please?”

Remus groans with frustration at the sound of Sirius’ panicked voice. You giggle at his stance in the recording booth; hands on his hips as he stares at the two of you accusingly.

Remus leans into the mic. “You just wasted that entire take, mate.”

“Don’t call me mate. I can see your hands down her—”

Remus turns Sirius’ voice off again with a flick of a switch, laughing to himself quietly. “From the top.”

You think that you can make out the words dick-head and bell-end behind Sirius’ lips, but you can’t be entirely sure. The recording light flashes on again, and the track starts over.

“S’fucking ridiculous,” Remus says, pressing another button as Sirius begins singing again. “He doesn’t understand that tapes cost money.”

“I don’t think Sirius understands anything about money,” you whisper conspiratorially into his ear. 

Remus’ hums in agreement, and his hand starts to move beneath your shorts.

**It’s innocent at first — lazy circles that make you feel as though your heart has sunk between your legs. But then they slide under the elastic band of your underwear, and you let out a yelp. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Nothing.” he says, taking the joint from you and going back to fiddling with the mixing desk with his free hand. “Just showing him what happens when he wastes studio time.”

“And you call us childish—“

You’re cut off when his thumb rubs over a particularly sensitive part of you and your head falls back against his shoulder. The warning look he gets from Sirius only seems to spur him on, and he pushes two fingers inside you down to the knuckle.

The beer can crinkles in your hand.

“Don’t splash that onto the switchboard,” he says.

“You’re making that—” you moan when his fingers make a particularly wet sound “You’re making that kinda difficult, here, man.”

Still, with a wobbly hand, you place the beer can onto the mixing desk. It’s just as well— as soon as your hand is free of the offending can, the heel of Remus’ palm starts pushing against your clit and your back arches, your body bent like a violin bow and straining in his hold.

Your voice comes out hoarse: “I’m going to come.” 

“Look at him.”

“I can’t—”

“Look at him, or I’ll stop.”

“Oh, fuck you—”

You open your eyes just enough to make out Sirius staring murderously at the two of you, shaking his maracas with fury before your vision is clouded with stars.**

When you come to Remus is winding up the reel, and Sirius has disappeared from the recording booth. 

Sirius opens the door with force, red-faced and panting.

“What the fuck did I do to deserve that?”

“You wasted a reel.” Remus says, wiping his fingers on his trousers and leaving a wet patch on the wool. “And Y/N finished her fries.”

“Her fries?” Sirius looks incredulous. “I’ve been slaving away for hours, and you get her off because she finished her bloody fries?”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“You’re a sick man,” he huffs to himself, snatching the joint out of Remus fingers, before storming off back towards the door.

“Where are you going?” 

Hiiii lovely, it's been just over a year since you sent this so if you're still around thanks for being so so patient while I worked up the courage to write it haha! Love you <3

cw: smut mdni, afab reader

a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If you’re new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her transphobic agendas

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“the thing about polyamory is now i have two people getting mad at me when they ask what i ate today and i tell them “coffee.” ”

and i thought it was rlly cute and was wondering if you could do something like that for poly!wolfstar :)

Thanks for requesting lovely!

a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If you’re new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her vile agendas

cw: talk of not eating (unintentional)

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 820 words

It’s not rare for Sirius to come home to a quiet house—he jumpstarts the noise, usually, because left to your own devices you and Remus are quiet as mice—but when he kicks off his shoes today, he can’t help feeling like the quiet has a different flavor. 

You’re sitting at a barstool across from where Remus is working in the kitchen. Sirius sneaks up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist and smooching your cheek. “Why are we sulking?” he asks you. 

You turn your head, a silent request for a real kiss which he happily obliges. “I’m not sulking.” 

“Liar,” he says fondly. “Come on, it’s not even six. Too early to be upset.” 

You nod at your other boyfriend, who’s chopping basil with the steady mercilessness of an executioner. “He’s icing me out.” 

“I am not,” says Remus. 

Sirius hums. “Everyone seems to have an idea of what they’re not doing.” 

You sulk harder. “He is. He’s cooking at me all passive-aggressive.” 

“I’m cooking for you,” Remus snipes. “You can’t cook at someone.”

“You manage it.” 

i’m just obsessed with the idea of poly!wolfstar having sex for the first time except remus and reader have been together for longer time so it’s a lot of remus telling sirius what she likes fbsibxkakx

Thank you for your request babe!

cw: smut mdni

a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If you’re new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her transphobic agendas

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 714 words

I feel good about that! Unsure if this was really a request but I wrote it anyway haha

cw: mature themes

a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If you’re new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her transphobic agendas

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Sirius can see that you’re cold, though you won’t say anything. The afternoon is cool and wet; a breeze that smells like damp earth drifts in through Sirius’ bedroom window, and somewhere below there’s the steady dripping of puddles forming. He watches as the skin on the back of your arm pebbles. But Sirius is lying atop the bedsheets you’d use to cover yourself, and you never ask for the things you want. 

“Come here,” he says, opening an arm for you. 

You roll towards him complaisantly, settling with your front against his. Sirius pulls the bedsheets over so you’re cocooned in. 

He kisses your shoulder, feels it with his cheek. 

“You’re freezing,” he mutters. 

You wriggle down until you can rest your face in the crook of Sirius’ neck. Take a piece of his hair between your fingers, and let the ends slip through them. “I feel perfect.” 

Sirius makes a small sound of displeasure, but, well. He can hardly argue that. 

btw i love all ur ficss

Thank you for requesting lovely!

cw: domestic squabbling

a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If you’re new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her transphobic agendas

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 801 words

Sirius’ eyes are flinty, boring into you. “Tell the truth.” 

“I am,” you say evenly. “I. Don’t. Care.” 

He scoffs and crosses his arms. “You’re such a fucking liar.” 

“Can you not curse at me in public?” 

“Maybe once you stop being so stubborn.” 

You glare at him. Between you, a dessert menu sits on the table. You’re both keeping away from it like it’d be a concession to touch. 

“What about you?” You try to turn the argument around on your boyfriend. “I know you don’t want the apple crumble, because of your thing with warm fruit—” 

“Warm fruit?” Lily asks. You’d nearly forgotten she was there. Only Sirius can wind you up so badly you forget to be conscious of the four other people at the table with you. 

“He won’t eat any fruit that’s been warmed,” you explain to Lily. You side-eye Sirius and add, with disdain, “It’s a sickness.” 

Thanks for requesting lovely <3

a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If you’re new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her transphobic agendas

Sirius Black x shy!reader ♡ 445 words

It's a sunny, balmy day in the midst of an English heat wave when Lily decides, "We should make a friend with a boat."

"We should make a friend with a pool," says Marlene. Laying on her stomach on the grass, she turns her head to glare at James and Sirius. "Why don't you have a pool?"

James blinks. "Sorry. How is that our responsibility?"

"You're rich."

"All the space that the Potters could have used for a pool went to the quidditch pitch," Remus reminds them.

Sirius, intentionally missing Remus' disdainful tone, nods. "As it should."

"We could find a pool," says James.

James Sirius Remus Peter

top 10 OHSHC episodes as voted by my followers ↳ 3 ✧ The Sun, the Sea, and the Host Club!