Sleep-Deprived Sunflowers

so there are two of them under there.

arousal covers your thighs and pussy, walls clenching when one of your boyfriends—you’re still unsure which one of them—sucks your clit, lips wrapping around your sensitive bundle of nerves, making you twitch in your groggy state.

your thighs close instinctively, your hands removing the covers to reveal whoever is eating and fucking  your cunt with such expertise, or at least that’s what you intend to do.

your arms don’t move an inch, and you look up only to find your wrists bound together to the headboard, a shiny pair of handcuffs holding them in place, limiting your movements.

“good morning, sleepyhead.” a voice behind you startles you, sirius’ grin widening when your gazes meet, a soft moan escaping your mouth at the same time he hears a slurp coming from down the covers.

you try to speak, but your voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. 

"what's going on?" you manage to ask, your mind still foggy from sleep. "are you seriously doing this right now?"

sirius hums, lowering his head to where your neck and shoulder meet, leaving short, wet kisses on your skin.

“didn’t want to wake you up, doll. but james here,” he remarks, looking at the two people-shaped bumps at the end of the bed. “couldn't wait.”

the licking at your core stops, and suddenly james’ head pops up from under the covers, kissing right below your belly button before he’s giving you those sad puppy eyes he always uses to get his way.

“i was just so hungry angel,” he whines, his lips and chin glistening with your juices. “and you looked so good sleeping, good enough to eat.” he chuckles at his own joke.

before you can even think of responding, james dips back under the covers, like he needs to be there—his mouth sealing over your clit with a ferocity that rips a moan straight out of your throat. his hands tighten under your thighs to keep you open, his fingertips pressing deep into your skin as he drags his tongue in long, feverish strokes up your slit.

but you do not forget about remus, because even if you can't see him, his fingers have been inside you from the moment you woke, slender and rough, slowly stretching your insides out. he shifts just slightly, adjusting the angle, pushing them deeper in a way that makes your back arch against  sirius, the restraint of the handcuffs only making you more desperate.

“easy,” remus murmurs, his voice calm in a way that only makes it hotter. “you’re clenching too hard already.”

and you can’t help it! every curl of his fingers drags right along that spot that makes your vision flicker, your thighs trembling and locking around james head when his digits rub against your gummy, slick walls.

and james, oh james.

he starts moaning into your clit, loudly. loud enough it vibrates against your sensitive clit, and you wonder if he’s really enjoying eating you out that much.

as if reading your thoughts, sirius chuckles, and without a word he takes the covers off the bed. the sight makes you salivate.

you get to see james’ face buried between your legs and remus’ helping hand, but what really surprises you is what he’s doing with his other hand—he has it wrapped around james’ cock, stroking up and down at the same pace he fingers you.

you can’t take your eyes off them, the way your boyfriend strokes your other boyfriend’s dick, fast and desperate, along with the overstimulation at your pussy is almost too much to bear. you’re so biased you completely miss sirius rubbing his own dick, his movements more frantic and wild. he strokes himself while watching them devour you.

“fuck,” he mutters, voice hoarse and a bit needy. “look at you. look at all of you.”

you feel the mattress dip with remus’ steady movements, james’ mouth working desperately on your slick cunt, and sirius’ soft, wet sounds behind you—long pulls of his fist, the faint catch of his breath every time your body twitches.

james pulls back for half a second, just long enough to breathe, and his ruined voice comes out whiny.

“she tastes—fucking hell. m-moony, don’t stop!”

“didn’t plan on it,” remus hums, thrusting his fingers deeper into you and slightly separating them, almost like he’s offering you to james. “open your mouth again.”

james obeys instantly, diving back into your cunt with a soft, desperate groan.

your thighs clamp around his head involuntarily, and sirius’ breath stutters behind you.

“oh, that’s it. that’s it, doll,” he pants softly, stroking himself faster now, if that’s even possible. “hold him there. let him taste everything.”

the cuffs clink sharply against the headboard when your arms tense, and sirius actually laughs under his breath, very amused by your misery.

“you’re shaking so fucking much,” he murmurs. “god, i could come just from watching you fall apart.”

remus’s fingers curl deeper again, making your hips jump against the mattress.

“fuck—” sirius groans. “do it. make her come.”

james is practically whining into your cunt now, licking, sucking, shaking, his hips twitching helplessly into remus’ fist.

“that’s it, sweetheart,” sirius rasps. “come for us. let us see your legs shake. we want to watch you fall apart.”

every sound from him sends a shock through your body.

every thrust of remus’ fingers pushes you higher.

every wet stroke of sirius’ hand makes your body react even harder, trembling right against him.

his words hit you hard, and that’s all it takes.

your orgasm slams into you so suddenly your vision whites out. your hips jerk off the mattress; your thighs clamp helplessly around james’ head; your wrists strain against the cuffs until the headboard rattles, and judging by the way your skin is burning under the metal, you’re going to have some pretty bruises tomorrow.

james groans into your clit as he feels your whole body seize, his tongue lapping and drinking every creamy drop of your cum, making your orgasm stretch, curl, burn.

remus’ fingers pump through every pulse of your climax, keeping you right at the peak, dragging a broken, choking sound out of your throat. his other hand tightens around james’ cock, stroking him with long, strong pulls that make james whine into your spent cunt..

“fuck—moony, m-moony, ’m gonna—mhm, fuck!” his voice is muffled by your core, barely intelligible.

remus only hums, low and approving. “come for her, james.”

and that undoing—those three words—tips james into a shuddering climax. he breaks beneath you, his hips jolting into remus’ fist, moaning messily against your clit as he spills hot and thick load over remus’ hand.

at the same time and with a sharp gasp and a guttural curse, sirius comes hard behind you, his hand squeezing at the base of his cock as warm ropes of his seed spill across your hip and stomach. his breath stuttering against your back.

“fucking… beautiful. look at her, moony. look at her.”

your body trembles through the aftershocks, thighs twitching around james, who’s still panting against you, face slick and flushed due to his own orgasm. remus withdraws his fingers slowly—too slowly—making you whine, overstimulated and boneless.

the bed dips as he shifts up your body, his tone darkening in that way that makes your pulse jump even in your foggy exhaustion.

“good,” he murmurs, wiping his messy hand casually on james’ thigh as if james exists only to be used between you. “now that you’re all warmed up…”

his hand drags up your inner thigh, giving you goosebumps as he settles between your legs, his cock thick and heavy resting against your sensitized hole.

“…you can take me.”

lostrologyy © 2025.

he’s still asleep. his cock is already half-hard, thick and insistent pressing on the curve of your ass. you shift slightly and he grunts, his nose nuzzling into your neck.

it’s not a surprise. he always wakes up like this, reaching for you in sleep like instinct.

as if he’ll stop breathing if he can’t touch you. as if he’ll rot without you in his arms.

you stay like that for a while, with the sweat slick warmth of skin on skin wrapping you like a cocoon.

the birds are chirping outside, awoken by the morning light. you see a few of them fly by, one or two even daring to land on the tree just outside the window.

then he speaks, low and raspy from sleep.

“still here,” he murmurs, tightening his hold. “thought you’d slipped away.”

“I never do.”

he exhales, rubbing and nuzzling deeper into your skin. “dreamt of you again.”

you hum. “yeah? what was I doing?”

“crying. moaning. you were… fuck, you were so wet.”

you feel yourself pulse at the sound of it—at the filth in his voice.

“I was inside you,” he says, his fingers slipping beneath your shirt, across your belly, higher. “and I kept thinking… let it kill me.”

his hand finds your chest, and he groans like your body hurts him.

“let me rot here,” he whispers. “right between your tits.”

“james,” you murmur, torn between laughter and a whimper.

“I'm serious,” he says, kissing your shoulder. “gonna build a shrine. right here.” he presses a kiss between your shoulder blades. “holy ground.”

his thumb flicks lazily over your nipple and he moans like your body is sunrise itself.

“I'm obsessed,” he whispers. “wanna live here. wanna die here.”

you squirm back against him and feel his cock twitch.

“oh, fuck—don’t do that,” he groans. “m’gonna come before we even start.”

“we haven’t started anything,” you tease.

“tell that to my dick,” he mutters. “he’s already giving his last words.”

you giggle, and james finally rolls you onto your back. his eyes are half-lidded, curls messy, and there’s something so beautiful about the lazy way he drapes himself over you, like your body is the only home he’s ever known.

he presses his face into your chest, nose nuzzling your sternum.

“I’m gonna die between your tits,” he murmurs.

“not very romantic,” you say.

“not very negotiable either.”

his lips move lower, tongue dragging over the fabric of your sleep shirt until it soaks through. he sucks gently at your nipple, even through the cotton, and you gasp at the heat.

“take it off,” he mumbles against your skin.

you lift your arms, and he peels the shirt away slowly, eyes trailing down your bare chest with open worship. his lips part. his hands shake.

“fuck me,” he says reverently. “you look carved.”

his mouth finds your nipple again, this time bare, and he groans. he suckles like he needs it to breathe—like this is communion. you whimper, hips shifting under him, and he growls, grinding down just enough for you to feel the thick press of his cock through both your clothes.

his hand slides down your thigh, then back up under the hem of your shorts.

“still have these on?” he asks, voice dark now. “that’s rude. you’re wet, aren’t you?”

you nod.

“words, baby.”

“yes,” you gasp. “I'm wet. for you. always.”

james moans, humping against you harder.

“gonna make you come just like this,” he mutters. “clothes on, tits out, my mouth on you. that’s all I need.”

his hips stutter. he spits directly onto your nipple, then sucks it clean. you cry out. your hands tangle in his curls. he’s rutting now, deliberate, hard, and filthy. the heat of him is overwhelming.

“feel that?” he pants. “that’s what you do to me. every morning. you walk around this house like a fucking dream, and i’m hard from the second i open my eyes. you know how many times I've come just grinding into your ass like this?”

you whine.

“too many,” he says. “and I’d do it a thousand more.”

you can’t think. you can’t breathe. his thigh presses between your legs and your clit rubs against the seam of your panties with every desperate shift of your hips.

you’re so close already.

james is panting against your chest, one hand splayed across your thigh, the other still gripping your breast like he’ll die if he lets go. you’re rutting against each other like animals, still mostly clothed, sweat slicking your skin where it touches.

“you gonna come like this?” he pants. “grinding against my cock like you’re in heat?”

you nod frantically. “i’m close… james, please—”

“yeah? want me to make a mess of you first?” he growls. “want to drip down your thighs before i even fuck you?”

you moan, your body trembling under his, and that’s all it takes—he presses his thigh harder between your legs, your clit catching perfectly against the pressure, and everything shatters.

you come with a gasp, hips jerking, nails digging into his shoulders. your thighs clamp around his leg, riding the wave of it, and james groans like it’s happening to him.

“fucking hell,” he breathes. “you’re so wet. fuck, I’m—shit, I’m—”

he ruts faster, cock twitching in his boxers, and then he’s coming too, his whole body stiffening as he groans into your chest. it’s filthy. raw. a low, desperate sound as he humps through it, grinding his cock against you until he’s trembling.

you lie there for a beat. ruined. his breath stutters against your chest.

“jesus christ,” he says eventually. “that was…”

you tilt your head to look at him. “insane?”

“religious,” he says. “that was sacred.”

you laugh breathlessly.

but james lifts his head, sweat damp at his hairline, eyes dark with something deeper now.

“I’m not done,” he says.

you blink.

“I need to be inside you,” he says, voice hoarse. “like—need it. right now.”

your body pulses at his tone. you nod, breathless.

he peels your shorts and ruined underwear down your thighs and tosses them somewhere behind him. his fingers trail through your folds, and he groans.

“you’re soaked. from just grinding on me. from my thigh and my mouth and my fucking voice.”

he leans down and spits onto your cunt, then rubs it in with his fingers, slow and dirty.

“open up for me,” he says. “let me ruin you properly.”

you reach between you to shove his boxers down. his cock springs free, already hard again, flushed red and leaking.

you whimper. “how the fuck are you—”

“angel,” he says, lining himself up, “I get hard just looking at you. you think coming in my pants could stop me?”

you laugh, barely. because he pushes in, thick and slow, splitting you open inch by inch until he’s buried to the hilt.

“oh my—james—”

he groans, head dropping to your shoulder. “fuck, you feel like heaven. like the end of me.”

he starts to move, slow at first, deep and measured. you arch into him, arms wrapped around his shoulders, mouth open in a silent moan.

“gonna fuck you like it’s the last thing I ever do,” he whispers. “gonna leave bruises where my name belongs.”

one hand wraps around your throat, not tight, just holding you, a claim. the other drags up your ribs, over your chest, squeezing your breast until you cry out.

“you’re all mine,” he says, voice wrecked. “you feel that? my cock in you, my hands on you. you let me spit in your mouth, ride my thigh, come in your sleep clothes like you’re made for me.”

you nod. “I am.”

he groans. “say it.”

“i’m made for you. just you.”

his hips snap harder now, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the room. he spits into your mouth and watches you swallow.

“fuck,” he growls. “that’s it. my good girl. my filthy, perfect girl.”

you whimper beneath him, your second orgasm already building, your body desperate.

“I’m close,” you gasp.

“then come,” he snarls. “come on my cock, baby. show me how wrecked you are.”

you do.

it hits like fire, ripping through you, white-hot and violent. you cry out his name, clawing at his back, and he groans, hips stuttering as you clamp around him.

“shit—gonna come too—fuck—you’re squeezing me like you want to keep me inside.”

“I do,” you pant. “come in me. fill me up.”

he growls, deep and low and possessive. and then he’s gone, emptying himself inside you with a choked, broken moan.

he doesn’t pull out.

instead, he stays there. deep. his chest pressed to yours. both of you heaving.

“let me rot here,” he says again, quieter this time. “right inside you.”

you thread your fingers through his curls and pull him down for a kiss.

“stay,” you whisper.

and he does.

you don’t know how long you lie like that—him still inside you, softening slowly, both of you wrapped around each other like ivy. the room smells like sex. sweat clings to your skin. and james keeps whispering things into your hair that sound more like confessions than dirty talk.

“i’d die like this,” he breathes. “inside you. warm. buried. want my bones to dissolve here.”

“morbid,” you whisper, eyes closed.

“romantic,” he corrects, and presses a kiss to your jaw.

you feel him hardening again.

you open one eye.

“again?”

he shifts slightly, and you moan as his cock thickens inside you.

“course again,” he murmurs. “you think I can stop? after that? after you clenched around me like you were scared I'd leave?”

you whimper. your body’s still trembling. your clit still aches. but he’s kissing down your neck now, gentle, then harder, until his teeth scrape.

“you want to stop?” he asks, breath warm against your collarbone.

you shake your head.

he grins.

“didn’t think so.”

he pulls out slowly, and your body throbs at the loss. but before you can complain, he drags you into his lap, settling you over his thighs so you’re straddling him, your pussy hovering just above his cock.

his hands grab your ass, squeezing once before pulling you down to grind against him.

“you’re gonna ride me,” he says, voice like gravel. “until you can’t see straight.”

your hands grip his shoulders. his cock slides between your folds, not inside yet, just dragging along your slit, teasing your swollen clit.

“look at you,” he whispers. “so fucked out already. you still want more?”

you nod, dazed.

“use your words.”

“I want more.”

“greedy,” he murmurs. “my greedy girl.”

he leans in to suck your tit again, messy and hungry, while his hands guide your hips to grind down on him. it’s torture. wet and hot and not enough.

“beg for it.”

“james—”

“beg.”

you whimper. “please. please let me ride you. i need it. i need to come again. i want your cock so bad it hurts.”

he groans. “fuck—you’re perfect.”

you lift your hips and line him up, then sink down slow. both of you moan, heads falling forward, foreheads touching.

“good girl,” he breathes. “take it. take all of it.”

you start to move, rocking your hips, rolling them in messy circles as his cock presses deep inside you. james is unraveling beneath you, moaning into your skin, biting at your chest.

“god, you feel like sin,” he groans. “warm and tight and mine.”

you start to bounce, each thrust sending sparks through your spine. james loses it—his head falls back, mouth open, chest heaving.

you lean in and bite his neck.

hard.

“fuck—” he chokes. “do that again.”

you do. sinking your teeth into the curve where his neck meets his shoulder. he thrusts up into you so hard it punches a moan out of your throat.

he grabs your hips and starts fucking up into you now, using your body like it belongs to him—and it does. you’re both gone. sweaty, loud, feral.

you spit into his mouth this time.

he swallows and groans like it’s air.

“I'm gonna come,” you gasp. “gonna come on your cock, james, oh my god—”

“do it,” he pants. “fucking soak me, baby. make a mess. show me what I do to you.”

you shatter. loud and wet and wild. you don’t even realize you're crying until james is licking tears off your cheeks, moaning praises into your mouth.

and then he comes, biting down on your shoulder, cock pulsing inside you, hips stuttering as he spills deep.

you collapse against his chest, trembling, boneless.

“I’ll never need anyone else,” he whispers. “ever.”

your bodies are tangled and soaked with sweat. the sheets are a mess. you’re not even sure where your shirt ended up, or when exactly james started trembling like he was about to cry.

but you’re still in his lap, his arms wrapped tight around you, cock twitching deep inside your soaked cunt, your heart beating against his chest like a war drum.

and james won’t stop kissing you.

lazy kisses. gentle kisses. desperate, open-mouthed ones that make you dizzy.

“still with me?” he mumbles, eyes glazed but fond. his hands are stroking your hips like he’s grounding himself.

you nod, forehead against his. “are you?”

“no,” he says softly. “i’m fucking gone.”

you laugh, exhausted.

but he shifts beneath you, and suddenly his cock is hard again. still inside you. still pulsing.

“james—”

“i told you,” he breathes, eyes dark and glassy, “i can’t stop.”

your thighs are shaking. your clit is raw. your whole body is too sensitive to move, but the idea of him fucking you again makes your core clench, greedy and ready.

james feels it. “oh, you liked that.”

he grins, devilish and boyish all at once, and then he lifts you up, just a little, until only the tip of his cock remains inside.

then slams you down again.

you scream.

“i know,” he whispers. “sensitive, yeah? but i need it, baby. need to see you come again. need to feel you fluttering around me while i ruin you for the fourth fucking time.”

you moan, overwhelmed and already so far gone that your eyes well with tears.

“aw, don’t cry,” he coos, cupping your cheek. “or do. i like it. you’re pretty when you sob for me.”

his thumb drags over your bottom lip, then shoves into your mouth. you suck on it instinctively.

“fuck,” he breathes. “you’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

you nod, drooling around his thumb.

“that’s my girl.”

he starts thrusting up into you again, slow but punishing. you can’t even move anymore, so he uses his grip on your hips to bounce you, just enough to send lightning through your nerves. your eyes roll back.

“look at you,” he groans. “fucked dumb and still taking it. my perfect little mess.”

you whimper something unintelligible. he kisses your cheek.

“gonna come again?”

“I—I can’t—”

“yes you can,” he growls. “you’re going to. you’re going to soak me again and scream for it. come on, baby, give it to me.”

his fingers rub your clit, and it’s too much.

your orgasm rips through you, high and shrieking and borderline painful—and james moans like it’s his own.

he follows a second later, biting your collarbone, coming inside you one more time as your cunt flutters around him, pulling every drop from his cock.

this time, you really collapse.

fully limp.

james holds you tighter.

“my girl,” he breathes, over and over. “my girl. my girl. mine.”

you’re not sure when you blacked out. not passed out, just gone. drifting. floating somewhere above your own body, high on orgasm and heat and james’s voice murmuring filth into your neck.

you’re still in his lap. still full of him. the sheets beneath you are a disaster. his curls are damp with sweat and sticking to his forehead. and his cock is finally soft again, tucked inside you like it belongs there.

neither of you speak for a long while.

james just breathes. kisses your temple. rubs circles into your back like he’s tracing a map he never wants to lose.

you don’t even realize you’re crying until he wipes the tears away with his thumbs.

“too much?” he whispers. his voice is hoarse. wrecked.

you shake your head. “no. never.”

he lets out a long breath and kisses your cheek.

“didn’t mean to fuck you like I’d never see you again,” he murmurs. “but you… you make me crazy.”

you look up at him. his eyes are blown wide, glassy with something that feels like awe.

“you okay?” you ask, barely a whisper.

he nods, then pauses. “no.”

your heart jumps. “no?”

he cups your face like you’re porcelain.

“no, I'm not okay. I'm in love with you. I want to spend every day like this. every night. I want to wake up hard against your ass and go to sleep with your taste in my mouth.”

your throat tightens.

“I want to build a life around your body,” he whispers. “I want to die between your thighs. I want to come inside you so many times that you forget what empty feels like.”

you blink, tears falling again.

he brushes them away gently.

“I meant what I said,” he adds, voice low. “let me rot here. right inside you. let me be the man who never leaves your bed.”

you nod slowly.

“then stay,” you whisper. “forever.”

james smiles, soft and wrecked and completely in love.

“forever isn’t long enough,” he says. “but I’ll try.”

he kisses you then, slow and deep. and even though your body is raw and trembling and ruined, you know he’d take you again if you asked. he’d give you everything. over and over.

because he’s yours.

and you’re his.

completely.

hopelessly.

forever.

“I am very sorry that I decided to be born in the same month as James.” Remus whispered, his sarcasm carrying up the staircase in hushed tones until you all got to the bedroom door separating you and the rest of the marauders from a sleeping James.

“Should be.” Sirius yawned. He poked you, who was at the front of the small pack. “You go in first. Check if he’s awake.”

“Why me?” you hissed.

“He won’t shout at you.” Remus explained on Sirius’ behalf.

You rolled your eyes. It was true, sure, but James was such a beautiful sleeper that you always felt a little bit guilty waking him up. Most of the time, he slept with one arm behind his head, lips parted- almost as if he were waiting for you to crawl in next to him, give him a kiss, and then lay on his chest.

Maybe it was something he picked up since he started dreaming about you, maybe it was just how he slept. The only thing you knew for certain was that he slept like an angel. Sometimes, in the early morning, when stray beams of sunlight infiltrated the gaps in the bed curtains and landed on James’ sleeping frame, you found yourself wondering whether or not James really was an angel.

That was by the by, now. You pushed the door open gently, creeping into the room. “You awake, darling?”

A quiet and muffled groan came from the bed, and if James’ face wasn’t smooshed into his pillow, you would have been able to tell that he had called out for you. If he were in a state of consciousness, he would have asked for you by your name, or a cheeky ‘alright, darling?’, but the other thing you loved about half-awake, hazy James was that he had a special pet name for you, reserved only for when he was in that limbo between awake and asleep, and he knew that all he wanted was you whether or not he woke up to feel you, or drifted back off to see you.

“Baby?”

“You awake?”

“Am now.” James rolled over onto his back, looking up at you, and a smile spread across his face instantly. He was topless, his hair messy, and he wasn’t wearing his glasses. Even though you were just a fuzzy blob, he smiled at the sight of you, because he knew without looking that you were beautiful. He didn’t need to see you to know that you looked like heaven on Earth.

If he had been able to see you, James would have clocked you smiling right back, because he looked so ridiculously sexy that you were debating shutting the others out of their own dorm to have your way with James then and there.

“Happy birthday.” you giggled, crossing the room to James’ bed, second furthest from the door.

After putting his glasses on, James sat up and swung his legs over the bed, before reaching out to grab your wrist so he could pull you to stand between them. “Thanks, darling.”

“Give us a kiss, and then I’ll let the others in.” you whispered, taking James’ face in your hands.

“Only if it’s a proper one.” James smirked, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling your body closer to his.

You nodded, beaming down at James as you leaned in to crush your lips against his, kissing him deeply. ‘A proper snog’, as he called it, not just a chaste peck of your lips against his.

James hummed and grinned against your lips, amused that you were humouring his request for a proper snog, since usually you protested when he asked out of the blue.

He leaned back, slipping his tongue into your mouth and snaking his hands up under your shirt, grasping at your tits, because above all else, James was a man, and that was what men did. He was lucky you liked it.

“Can we come in yet?!” came a voice from outside, one that you knew was Peter.

Remus piped up, not long after. “You can shag all you want later, but these bastard presents are heavy!”

Sirius chimed in finally, and you could tell that he was trying to speak in a hushed whisper, but Sirius was incapable of speaking to people he cared about at a low volume.. He just ended up whisper-shouting, sounding as if he had a sore throat.

“Well, give ‘em here then!”

“No, you just want to carry them!”

“Moony, you just said-”

“This is such a childish thing to be arguing-”

“Piss off, Pete.” “Leave it out, Wormtail.”

“Fuck you both, then.”

Eventually, the boys stopped trying to whisper and started arguing fully, which meant that eventually, they’d be waking everyone else up. You sighed, shaking your head as you stood up straight, pressing a final kiss into James’ hair.

“You can come in, you bloody idiots!”

“Happy birthday!” they all chorused as they burst through the door.

James just laughed. “Cheers.”

You giggled, sitting down on the bed next to James. The other boys crowded around it too, Sirius cross legged at the foot of the bed, with Remus and Peter on either side of him.

You leaned forward to seize the box of croissants that you had made that morning, stuffing one into your mouth while they were still somewhat warm.

“Go on, then.” you said, mouth full. “Someone start dishing out presents.”

James spent the next hour opening presents. That’s how long it took him to get through them all, because not only were there so many (James, funnily enough, ended up being the most spoiled one of you all, even though he was the most minted), but also because every present meant something, or had a little story attached to it. Those were James’ favourite type of presents.

Remus had found him some old clothes from a couple of London charity shops, of which James was most excited about the pair of red trainers. Remus knew that would be the case.

Peter had gone to Diagon Alley and bought James a shitload of prank supplies- enough stuff that begged the question of whether Pete had just bought the whole shop. James had flicked an exploding snap card at you, and you had to duck and roll off of the bed to get away from it, which caused a diversion of another ten minutes, because then all of the boys started flicking exploding snap cards at you.

Sirius, who sat and eagerly explained every single gift in intricate detail, had bought James four records, two Rolling Stone magazines, and a poster of Debbie Harry, much to your dismay.

“Nice.” James laughed, when he opened it, prompting a smack upside the head from Remus. James winced, turning towards you. “Also, just peppering in the fact I love you very much. And it’s my birthday.”

“I was going to enchant it to move,” Sirius explained. “Didn’t really want you to get magically castrated, though. So I left it.”

“I’ll bloody castrate you.” you mumbled at Sirius, arms folded.

You had forbidden anyone else, even Fleamont and Euphemia, from buying James anything remotely Quidditch related for his birthday. That, you announced, was your department.

Which was why James ended up opening a new Quidditch jumper, two new jerseys, a Chudley Cannons flag for his bedroom wall, and-

“No way!” James gasped, when he took the lid off of a little red box that was tied up with a golden ribbon. “Oh, I really wanted a new snitch, as well!”

“Press it.” you insisted.

James looked at you quizzically. “Well- I don’t want it to fly away..”

You laughed, nodding along to James’ words, because you knew what the gag was with the snitch. “Just press it.”

James shrugged, still confused, but he did as he was told, and squeezed the snitch between his fingers, either side until the wings popped out. It fluttered in James’ hand, and he winced, expecting to never see it again, but it stayed put.

James’ jaw dropped, and his gaze snapped to yours. “Is it one of the ones-?”

You nodded. “Yeah, s’got a password. Won’t fly away till you say it, so if you- hey!”

You were cut off mid sentence when James dropped the snitch and launched himself at you, arms wrapping tightly around your shoulders and sending you flying back onto the bed. His voice was muffled against your shirt, face buried in your shoulder, but that made no difference, because James was speaking so fast it all came out as a blur anyway.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyoudarlingyou’resuchabloodyangelit’sperfectyou’reperfectIloveyousomuchyou’resoamazing-”

“James, calm down, it’s just- Mmph!” you were cut off because James, seemingly forgetting to give a fuck that his three best friends were in the room, grabbed the sides of your face and kissed you, hard.

Your eyes widened at first, and you went to protest that all of the boys were still sat on James’ bed, but then you realised that you didn’t really care.

“Merlin- mate-” Peter protested. “Bit graphic for six o’clock, innit?”

You laughed, nodding along to what Peter was saying. “Yes! Very much a bit graphic, while everyone’s in the room.”

James shrugged, sitting up as if he hasn’t just snogged your face off in front of all your best friends. The thing about James, and you supposed it was quite a sweet thing, really; was that he loved you, and he didn’t care who was around, he was going to show you anyway.

To you, and probably a few dozen others as well, James was sunshine. He always had been, and he always would be. That meant he had an abundance of sun-rays to share, and the first person he always thought to shed them on was you. No matter when, no matter where.

“Right, here is your prior warning,” James began sarcastically, holding his hands up precariously, sarcasm oozing from his tone of voice. “That I intend to make physical contact with my girlfriend in approximately-” he glanced quickly at his wrist, even though he wasn’t wearing a watch. “20 seconds.”

“I don’t want to know what physical contact you’re making. I’m going downstairs.” Sirius insisted, standing up off of the bed.

“Breakfast in an hour, you two.” Remus instructed, his gaze pointed mostly at you, because you were the one in charge of any further surprises for the day.

“Please keep all of said physical contact to your own bed.” said Peter sarcastically. That prompted a stupid look from you, one that meant obviously, dickhead.

The boys left one by one, leaving you and James; sat on his bed, surrounded by scrunched up wrapping paper and that presents that went with it.

James looked around the piles of wrapping paper that was scattered across the room, before reaching out and snatching the little red present box that used to house his new snitch, shaking the golden orb out into his hand.

“Love, this is amazing. It’s all so- You’re bloody lovely.” James couldn’t quite find the words, partly because he was so overwhelmed with gratitude for all the presents he had received, and partly because he had caught your eye, and remembered that you were beautiful, and you were his.

“You like it?”

James shifted closer to you, resting his palm on the side of your face so he could tilt your head up to look at him.

“I love it. Love it all. Love you.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, because you knew you had done a good job. James didn’t necessarily need spoiling in the material sense, but when it came to his birthday, you felt even more of a need than usual to make him feel as loved as he made you feel, every second of every day.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” James laughed, in such disbelief that it was physically possible to be so beautiful on the inside and outside simultaneously, even though he thought you were living proof.

As soon as James leant down to kiss you, you were smiling too, and you were leaning back on the bed until your head was in James’ messy stack of pillows, at which point you draped your arms over his shoulders.

James’ wandering hands were fast, so you had to be faster- before he could lift up the waistband of your pyjamas, you were sliding off of the bed, standing up. You kept a hold of James’ hand so that he followed you to the edge of the bed, and kissed him a final time before dropping to your knees in front of him.

The sight of it made James’ whole body twitch, and within seconds, he was so hard that it hurt.

“Oh, Merlin.” he huffed, and his voice cracked as he said it. “You’re a bloody angel.”

“I know.” you giggled. “You gonna stand up ‘nd fuck my face, birthday boy?”

“Fucking hell, love…” James groaned, and so appeared the whine you had hoped for in his voice. Like music to your ears. With one hand still gripping yours, he reached down to thread his fingers through your hair, tugging on it just enough that your head tipped back to look at him.

That just made you smile. Without a word, you looked up through your eyelashes at James, hands resting neatly in your lap as you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out. Waiting.

James actually, genuinely whined, although he tried really hard not to, and his eyes fluttered shut as he shoved a hand down his front and pulled his dick out.

You gagged when James hit the back of your throat, naturally, but there was one thing you weren’t, and that was a quitter, so you blinked away the tears welling in your eyes and hummed around him, closing your lips and eyes at the same time.

James let a loud moan escape this time, finally able to feel you, and his hips involuntarily bucked into your mouth. It was the sound you were waiting for, and you could practically feel all the tension in his limbs melt away.

“Feels, fuck-” he groaned, already struggling to form proper sentences. “So good, my girl-”

James barely got those words out, and you had only just started, but it wasn’t exactly easy to string together a sentence when your throat was so tight and his head was swimming with a mess of sensations. He pulled on your hair in a way that was slightly more painful than usual, but there was no malicious intent. You knew James well enough to understand the difference, and well enough to know he’d never dream of hurting you.

The hand that James had in your hair gripped a little bit tighter, and you knew what that meant, so you took a deep breath as James started to shift his hips backwards and forwards, sliding in and out of your throat.

“Fuck.” he tried to huff the word out, but it came out as a squeaky whimper, James’ voice cracking in the sexiest way possible.

His other hand came to grip your hair, too, scraping it up into an impromptu ponytail, so that he could snap his hips upwards, starting to actually fuck your throat.

You gagged once, and then twice, giggling around James’ dick as tears stung the corners of your eyes again. You let them roll down your flushed cheeks this time, instead of blinking them away.

“Feels so good, angel.” he gasped. “So good, so pretty-”

James’ head was spinning, and he was panting with the effort it took to not immediately spill himself down your throat. He pulled at your hair again, wanting to look at you, wanting to see the tears streaking your face as you looked up at him through your eyelashes.

Sometimes it shocked you to see James look so completely filthy, because it was stark contrast to his sunniness, his laughter, and his flirting. Sometimes, though, when you were like this, you remembered times that James had taken you, bent over, against a wall, or falling totally to bits underneath you, and that was a reminder of just how dirty James Potter really was.

“I love you-” James managed to gasp out, but his words were quickly replaced by a moan, because of the way you were gazing up at him. “Love you, angel, I’m gonna come.”

James’ breaths were coming in ragged and uneven, his chest heaving like nobody’s business, and it was until you had swallowed it all that you registered James jerking his hips forwards a final time and coming right down the back of your throat.

You gasped, smirking as you pulled yourself of off James’ dick, sitting back on your knees. You stayed like that for a moment; drool all around your mouth, tears running down your cheeks, hair a tangled mess.

“I wish you could see yourself.” said James, staring intently down at you, and even from the floor you could see his pupils were like saucers.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” James echoed, nodding as he reached down to grab your chin, tilting your head up. “So filthy. So beautiful.”

You’ve spent the day pushing all of James’s buttons. Not doing as he asked. Whining about every little thing. Talking back when he least deserved it. And—your favorite—getting handsy with him and wandering off, all innocent, like you had no idea what you were doing to him. But you didn’t overdo it and managed to play most of it off as ditsy mistakes. You had a plan, of course. Be just bratty enough to keep him on edge, but not enough to face any consequences.

Until you want consequences.

Your voice cuts through the silence as soon as you see some of the tension ease from his shoulders. “Is there such a thing as over-polishing a broom?” you ask, as obnoxiously as you can.

James’s hand stills. Over his shoulder, you see his jaw clench, and your lips curl into a small, victorious smile.

“I dunno, baby. Maybe,” he says slowly, putting down the rag.

You think it’s sweet how he’s still trying to be patient with you, even as it wears so thin.

“You look tense, Jamie,” you say, as if you haven’t a clue why. But there’s something in your tone—a little teasing, or maybe too much amusement—that gives you away.

James exhales sharply through his nose. “Baby, I thought I told you to be quiet.”

“Hm, well.” You push yourself up onto your hands before swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, sitting upright. “You never said please.”

“What?” James asks, twisting in his chair. He glares at you over his shoulder, eyes narrowed, daring you to push further.

“I never heard a please,” you repeat, unable to contain your grin when you see that dark look in his eyes.

“Are you fucking serious?” James huffs, finally having had enough of your little game. He wipes his hands on his flannel trousers, cleaning off a bit of broom polish and adjusting the fabric over himself in one go. “Come here,” he commands, his voice a low rumble.

“No,” you say, kicking your feet where they dangle over the bed.

“Excuse me?” He looks at you like you’ve gone crazy. Maybe you have, because by this point, you’ve pushed him to his limit. Whatever he decides to do with you now, there’ll be no mercy. The thought makes your panties damp in anticipation.

There’s no reason to keep sassing him, but really, it’s just so fun!

“I said no. Didn’t you hear me?”

The chair makes an awful scraping sound against the floor as he stands abruptly, crossing the room in a few long strides. His large hand closes over your arm, and he wrenches you to your feet.

“You think I don’t see what you’re doing?” he snarls, his head dipping close, so close you can feel the warmth of his breath fan across your face with every heavy fall of his chest.

You catch your lower lip between your teeth, staring back at him with stars in your eyes, as if he’s flirting, not threatening. As if you have no idea how serious he is.

“I’m not doing anything,” you say, batting your eyelashes at him.

“I’ll give you one chance to change that answer and apologize,” he practically growls, and the low, gravely register of his voice only makes you wetter.

“Oh, I’m so scared,” you deadpan, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “If you want an apology so bad, maybe you should earn it. Not that I’ve done anything wrong,” you mutter that last part, making a big show of rolling your eyes.

His fingers dig into your arm hard enough to sting as he spins you both around. He sits on the edge of the bed, manhandling you over his lap. His hand slides down, wrapping around your wrist to pin it to your lower back, keeping you pressed firmly against him, stomach against his thighs.

He flips up the skirt of your little nightdress, revealing your ass, barely covered by your skimpy little panties, before delivering a sharp swat to the smooth skin.

Your body jolts forward under the force of his hand, and a soft, shuddering gasp escapes your lips, the sound betraying just how much this thrills you.

"Are you being a brat on purpose?" he asks, his voice low and raspy as his hand smooths over your stinging skin. “Just so you can be put over my knee?” He delivers his question with another sharp smack, harder than the last.

You yelp. “N-no,” you stammer, burying your face into the mattress to hide your smile.

“Liar. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

His hand comes down on you in a series of harsh spanks. You enjoy it far too much for this to be a punishment. With every swat, you only get more desperate, your poor, untouched pussy pulsing with need. James catches you rubbing your thighs together, and hears it when your yelps start sounding suspiciously like moans.

“Little fucking pain slut,” he grunts, his tone a mix of annoyance and amusement. He brings his hand down harder, knowing how easy it would be to cross the line between pleasure and real pain. He can quickly make this a lot less fun for you.

"You know how to be a good girl," he tells you, his tone sharp as he punctuates every sentence with a hard spank. "You just like being a brat more, hm? Is that it? You like getting punished,” he deduces, and it’s no longer a question.

“I am a good girl,” you say, still feeling a little defiant. You turn your head to look at him, cheek smushed against the mattress.

James lets out a sharp, incredulous laugh. “Oh, you are?” he asks, raising a brow at you and pressing his palm firmly into your sore skin, as if to say a good girl wouldn’t be caught with welts on her ass. “But good girls don’t sass their boyfriends like you do. And good girls listen, don’t they? Have you done as you were told even once today?”

You keep your lips sealed together because the answer, of course, is no. You haven’t.

“That’s what I thought,” James mutters, raising his hand again.

There are no more pauses this time. He continues delivering sharp, stinging spanks in a relentless rhythm. Your fingers curl around the sheets beneath you as the pain slowly becomes more than you can handle. Your vision begins to blur with tears, your noises reduced to distressed little whines and whimpers as you writhe in James’s lap.

“Jamie!” you yelp finally, when he lands another firm smack and the stinging pain turns into an ache.

“Now look who’s whining,” he taunts, his voice dripping in mock sympathy. “What’s wrong, baby? It hurt?” he asks, kneading the heated flesh in his hand.

A small, pitiful little noise reverberates from your throat. He gives you another harsh spank. The pain knocks the air from your lungs, and you inhale sharply, almost a sob.

"Use your words," he chides, pinching the spot that looks like it hurts the most. "Or is that all you're good for now? Whimpering and whining?”

“N-no, I—”

He cuts you off with another smack, chuckling at the way you flinch.

“Please!” you cry out, tears falling and wetting the sheets beneath you.

“Had enough?” he asks, raising his hand again just to taunt you.

“Yes! Please, I-I- I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” His hand still hovers in warning.

“For being a brat!” The words tumble from your lips in a rush. “I wasn’t listening bu-but I’ll be good now. I promise I can be good.”

“Yeah? You gonna behave for me?”

“Promise,” you say, panting to catch your breath.

James takes a moment to admire you like this, draped over his lap, trembling, flushed, and sore from his hand. He gently rests his palm back over your warm skin, humming approvingly as he presses his thumb into a particularly sore spot.

“‘M sorry,” you whimper again.

“I know, baby.” He lets go of your wrist to push some hair out of your face. “There you are,” he murmurs, admiring your pouty lips and wide, tearful eyes. “My good girl. Gonna think twice before testing me next time?”

"Mhm,” you nod, sniffling.

James wipes your tears with his knuckle. With his other hand, he rubs over your abused skin in soothing circular motions. You are going to be left with his handprint on your ass, that’s for sure.

You blink at him, and James smirks. It’s obvious that you’re waiting for a bit of affection. For him to ease your pain now. You look so pretty like this, how could he resist? Of course, he’s not one to give in without a bit of teasing first.

His hand slides down your legs, not quite touching where you need him to yet, as his fingers trace the skin of your inner thighs. A low chuckle rumbles in his chest as you shiver under his touch.

“So desperate. You just wanted my attention, didn’t you?”

You let out a breathy little sigh when his hand slides up, his touch ghosting over your panties, which are damp with your arousal.

“But you’ll be a good girl now, won’t you? Should I show you what good girls get?” he asks, rubbing your swollen clit through your panties, making the fabric slicker with every pass.

“Yes, please,” you beg, pushing your hips back, only for him to inch his hand away. “I promise I’ll behave. I’ll be good—I want to be good for you.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he hums, hooking your panties to the side. He runs two fingers through your folds, collecting your wetness. “Fuck, baby, you’re soaked,” he groans, plunging both fingers into your needy hole.

A low moan falls from your lips as he curls his long fingers, making your head spin as he presses against that sweet, spongy patch inside of you. His other hand runs down your body, stopping over your ass. He kneads the plush flesh, still aching from his punishment, and spreads you open so he can watch his long fingers disappear into your pretty little cunt.

James chuckles as your moans quickly turn breathy and desperate. It doesn’t take much to get you close—you were already worked up the moment he took you over his knee. Before that, even, having spent the day thinking about the many ways he might finally punish you.

“Gonna cum for me already?” he teases, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves with his thumb and rubbing tight circles against it.

“Please, can I?” you ask for permission, holding back, awaiting his answer now that you’re on your best behavior. Your legs tremble under the pressure.

“Cum for me, baby.”

You screw your eyes shut as your orgasm crashes over you, something between a moan and a whine falling from your lips. James’s fingers don’t stop, or even slow down, prolonging your pleasure until it’s almost too much. Then, until it’s really too much.

“Jamie,” you whimper, squirming in his lap.

He doesn’t let up, pressing his palm firmly against your lower back to keep you in place. Sure, he’s already spanked you to tears, but he’s had a long day dealing with your disobedience, so he’s not quite finished with you yet.

James leans over, his lips near your head as he whispers, “Come on, baby. You said you’d be good, yeah? So be good and show me how many times you can cum for me.”

Peter kisses the side of your mouth languidly. Then his lips start to migrate downwards, searching. He paints a hot, sticky trail of kisses moving towards your neck. Meanwhile you’re gripping his shoulders like they’re a lifeline, scared if you let go you’ll melt into the bed like a popsicle in the summer.

“D’you want a hickey?” Peter murmurs into the space under your jaw. His teeth graze your skin lightly and chills shoot down your spine. You grab him harder.

“Yeah, okay,” you nod. His head’s low enough now that you can push your hand up into his hair, fingers curling into the thick, messy strands at the nape of his neck. You push your other hand over the hill over his shoulder to hold his bicep.

Peter hums and his mouth moves downwards to your sweet spot, right in the juncture between your neck and shoulder. He kisses you first, a hot press of his sticky lips. Then his lips part, and his tongue pushes over your skin, warm and wet. You shudder.

Peter chuckles lazily into your neck. “You okay?”

You pinch his arm. “Shut up.”

You feel him smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

You’re about to say something smart back when his teeth scrape over your neck. You inhale fast and tug him closer, your heartbeat turning frantic. Peter takes your skin between his lips and sucks at it, bullying your neck with rough, open mouthed kisses and the scraping of his teeth. He kisses you like this until you go hot as coals under him, worse when he presses his knee up further between your thighs.

When he’s done abusing your skin, Peter straightens up, hovering above you. You can just make out his face in the semi-dark, handsome as ever, his lips swollen and his chest heaving. Your own chest heaves as he looks at you in silence.

”What?” You ask, shy under his heavy gaze.

Peter shrugs. “Nothing. You’re beautiful.” He ducks down to kiss you again, on the mouth this time. “I love you,” he murmurs softly.

You really truly think you might melt in his hands any second now. It’s only a matter of time, when he’s being this sweet on you.

“I love you, too,” you manage weakly.

Peter grins an amused sort of grin. You wonder if he’s teasing you for your inability to function properly, but you don't care enough to do anything about it.

“You want another hickey?” He asks. He thumbs your throat, where your skin feels sensitive and raw. You’re sure it's bright purple by now. “One isn’t really enough, right?”

Memories of last night come flooding in as you stir from sleep. The concert, then the club. Meeting him there. Getting invited to the VIP section, then to his room.

It was a dream come true.

Now, you’re wrapped in white sheets, on the biggest bed you’ve ever been in, in the nicest hotel room you’ve ever seen. If it weren’t for the room, you would’ve believed last night really was just a dream, because when you wake up, you wake up alone.

You’re not sure what to make of that. Did he leave? Should you leave? Should you snoop around?

With your mind reeling, you don’t notice the sound of the bathroom door opening. Probably in part because the noise comes from down the hall, and you’re not used to hotel rooms that are large enough to have hallways. Your brain probably even assumed the noise came from the next room over.

The air is knocked out of your lungs when he steps back into the bedroom.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

You actually pinch your thigh under the sheets to make sure you’re not dreaming.

Sirius Black—yes, that Sirius Black—the frontman of The Marauders, the man you’ve idolized for years, he’s actually standing right there.

And last night, you actually fucked him.

Your gaze unconsciously trails down his frame, admiring the sight. Water droplets from his shower still glisten on his pale, tattooed chest. You follow the path of one gliding down his chest, tracing the faint outline of his muscles and disappearing into the fluffy, white towel that hangs low on his hips.

Sirius smirks as he watches you gawk over him. How adorable, he thinks.

“Hi, baby,” he says in that smooth, velvety voice that makes you weak in the knees, and, yes, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Hi,” you squeak.

A low laugh rumbles from Sirius’s chest as he moves around the room. With his back to you, he rummages through the dresser and asks you for the time.

You scramble for your phone as if there’s not a digital clock right next to it. But you’re not thinking straight. All you’re thinking is that Sirius Black asked you a question, and you need to give him an answer, and your brain zeroes in.

“One o’clock,” you say, fumbling with the phone in your clumsy grip.

“Ah, shit. I’m late,” he mumbles, turning to you.

“F-for what?” you stammer mindlessly, eyes drawn to his bare torso again, particularly the little strip of hair that disappears under the edge of his towel.

He looks at you, still sitting in the bed, thin sheet hugged to your chest as you watch his every move with adoration and wide-eyed fascination, and his lips curl into a smirk.

“The boys are waiting for me at the studio,” he says. “Why don’t you come with me?”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. “Really? You want me to come to the studio? With you? With the- the band?”

Sirius chuckles. “Yeah, baby. Go on and freshen up, shower, or whatever. I’ll call a car.”

⋆ ⋆ ♱ ⋆ ⋆

You can’t stop squirming in the car, tugging at your skirt like it might grow longer if you just keep pulling. You couldn’t find most of your clothes back at the hotel, just your skirt, peeking out from where it slipped beneath the bed. You don’t have the slightest idea where the rest went. You also have no idea that Sirius had something to do with it, or that if you looked in his pocket, you’d at least find your panties.

Maybe you would’ve put two and two together if you weren’t so distracted with your own excitement after Sirius offered you a shirt of his to wear. But that excitement faded into nerves, every bump in the road the car rolls over acting as a reminder of what you’re not wearing.

“Stop fidgeting,” Sirius murmurs when you arrive, and he helps you out of the car. “You look fucking fantastic.”

Between his words and the arm he throws around your shoulders, you forget all about your missing clothes. You’ll be comfortable wearing anything as long as Sirius tells you that you look good in it.

Sirius guides you through the sleek, glass doors, and you can’t believe you’re actually in the building where The Marauders record their music—some of your favorite songs of all time were made here!

Everything in the building gleams—the polished floors, the designer lobby furniture, the platinum records that line the wall. You’re trying to play it cool, but your heart’s still racing over the fact that you were in his bed last night and now you’re in his world. You have to pinch yourself again.

“This is where the magic happens, baby,” Sirius says, leading you through a heavy door.

There’s a quiet hum in the room you enter from all the technology—massive boards covered in buttons and glowing knobs, and colorful screens you can’t make sense of. There's a glass panel on the wall, and you can see into a room you’ve only seen in pictures.

You’ve seen it on their Instagram posts and stories—Peter even goes live from here sometimes. You can’t believe that it’s real. It almost looks chaotic, with all the instruments strewn about, mics and amps accompanying them, and thick cables running from everything.

But what really catches your eye are the three men standing amidst it all. Your lips part in awe, and you’d be frozen in place if it weren’t for Sirius’s hand on your lower back guiding you through another heavy door and into the surreal space.

The three boys look up at your arrival.

“Sirius!” Remus yells, startling you. He stands from the stool he was perched on. If he notices you standing there next to his bandmate, he doesn’t show it. “Where have you been?”

“Relax,” Sirius says coolly. “I told James I was running late.”

“Yeah, twenty minutes ago. But you were supposed to be here three hours ago. The producers have all gone home!”

“Relax, mate,” James says, coming to Sirius’s rescue. He claps Remus on the shoulder as he passes by him. “Where are your manners? We have company.”

All eyes land on you, and you think you might faint.

“Hi, love. I’m James,” he says, walking up to you with an outstretched hand. It’s warm and rough against yours when you shake it, and you almost forget to let go.

“I-I know. You’re my favorite right after Sirius,” you say dumbly, and your heart drops as soon as you register the words that left your mouth. “Oh my god, I have no idea why I said that.”

The boys all chuckle. Even Remus’s sour mood seems to brighten a little.

“Hear that, boys? Second place. I’ll take it,” James beams.

“I’ll try not to take offense,” Remus says, offering you a kind smile. He introduces himself, too, even though he’s quite sure you know who he is.

“And I’m used to it,” Peter pipes up from behind the drum kit, twirling a drumstick in his left hand. “It’s never the drummer.”

A pained sound slips past your lips. “Oh, please, I—what a dumb thing for me to say! You gotta know I love you all so much. It’s a close competition, really! You all are, like, my idols!”

Remus presses his lips together to hide his smirk.

“Relax, baby. The boys are just teasing,” Sirius chuckles, pinching your side.

“You’re right, Pads. This one is cute,” James adds, shooting Sirius an approving look.

Butterflies erupt in your chest. They talked about you?

“So if the producers left, what are we even doing here?” Sirius asks, looking at Remus.

Remus sighs. “I thought we’d record some samples.” Remus’s eyes flick to you, like he knows something you don’t. “You clearly have other plans, though.”

Sirius winks at him before turning to you. “Wanna hear a new song we’re working on, baby?”

“What? Seriously?” you ask excitedly.

“Yeah, c’mon,” he says, leading you to a piano on the left side of the room. He sits on the bench, tugging you down onto his lap. His arms wrap around your body to reach the keys.

His long fingers dance across the keys with expertise, playing a new melody that takes your breath away.

James picks up a guitar, playing along with Sirius. He shoots you a wink when you look up at him. Peter too joins in, drumming out a beat. But Remus only crosses his arms, watching with a hard stare.

“This is amazing!” you say, losing yourself in the beat, swaying gently. “Is this for the new album?”

“Probably,” Sirius grunts, his voice turning husky. He pauses his playing to adjust you in his lap, hiking up your skirt a bit. You gasp when you feel his thick bulge against your bare pussy.

“Sirius?” you question as he continues playing.

He shushes you. “Relax,” he says, pressing a kiss against your neck. He rolls his hips in time with the music, and his rough jeans feel divine against your core. A heat rises to your cheeks as your eyes dart between the other three boys in the room, wondering if they’ve noticed.

Peter is focused on his drumming, and James’s gaze is turned down to his guitar, but Remus’s eyes pierce into yours when you look at him. There’s no doubt in your mind that he knows exactly what’s going on. Your cheeks burn, but there’s a hungry glint in his eyes that causes a wetness to pool between your legs too.

“That feel good, baby?” Sirius whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Y-yeah,” you say, eyes fluttering shut.

“Want some more?”

“What?”

“I wanna fuck this sweet pussy. Will you let me, baby?” he asks, his voice rough with desire. His words take your breath away, and your cunt pulses with arousal at the idea of taking his perfect cock again.

Still, you hesitate.

“Here? But your bandmates…?”

“They won’t mind. Want me to prove it?”

“Huh?”

Sirius suddenly bucks his hips, and you tumble off his lap. You catch yourself with your hands on the piano in front of you, the keys clanging loudly under your weight.

James and Peter stop playing their instruments. You can feel all four sets of eyes burning holes in the back of your head.

“Any of you mind if I fuck my girl, here?” Sirius asks, raising his voice for all to hear as he pushes your skirt up your hips.

A shocked squeak slips past your lips, and nerves curl in your tummy, but above all, your heart flutters warmly in your chest because Sirius Black called you his girl!

“Nah,” James says with an amused laugh.

“See, pretty girl?” Sirius leans over you so that he can whisper in your ear. “They like watching. So what do you say?” Sirius runs two of his slender fingers between your folds, spreading your slick.

You look back over your shoulder into those dazzling, gray eyes. Sirius Black’s dazzling, gray eyes. How could you say no to him?

“O-okay,” you moan as he plunges his fingers into your wet heat.

“Yeah? You want my cock, baby?”

“Yes, please,” you whine as he curls his fingers. Your body jolts, setting off a few more of the piano’s keys.

Sirius’s fingers leave you, but the empty feeling only lasts a moment. He sits sideways on the piano bench, facing the room, and pulls you onto his lap. Your legs are spread wide, your bare pussy on display for the other boys as Sirius sinks his long, thick cock into your drenched hole.

Pleasure mixes with embarrassment as Sirius bounces you on his cock, and you screw your eyes shut. Sirius holds you up with a hand tightly wrapped around your neck, putting enough pressure to make your head spin. Occasionally, Sirius says something, but not to you. It’s banter with James, or a sly remark to Remus or Peter.

“Are her tits as pretty as that pussy?” James asks, strumming a random chord.

A gasp is ripped from your throat, and your eyes shoot open at James’s vulgar question. He grins at you when you meet his eye.

Sirius uses his free hand to push your (his) t-shirt over your chest, squeezing one of your tits in his large hand.

“Yeah. Fucking perfect,” James rules, plucking another note.

Sirius’s hand leaves your tits, so James has a full view of the way they bounce, but his hand doesn’t leave you completely, dipping between your folds to tease your clit.

“Sirius!” you cry out his name in a high-pitched moan.

James lets out a low whistle. “Sounds like an angel. Maybe she should be in our next track,” he jokes. “What do you think, Remus?”

Your eyes instinctively dart to where Remus was sitting before, but he’s not there anymore. You scan the room and find him sitting on the other side of that window, watching intently through the glass.

His right hand disappears beneath the control board, and his arm jerks suspiciously as he watches.

You gasp, looking away when you realize what he’s doing.

“You close, baby?” Sirius asks when he feels your walls clench around him.

You nod feverishly. Your eyes dart between the three boys watching. Your idols. All watching you with awe, admiration… thirst. All while your favorite of them all fucks your pussy like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever had.

You revel in it—their gaze, their attention. It's a thrill to be on the other side of it. To see them look at you the way you've always looked at them. You love it almost as much as you love them.

James’s strumming briefly catches your attention, and you meet his hungry gaze before your eyes roll back, and you cum on Sirius’s cock. No one notices the red recording light blink to life as a string of obscene moans tumbles from your lips.

After you come down, it’s easy to get your permission to put the little recording Remus made in their next single.

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It's late. The room is dimly lit by the lamp on your bedside table and the faint shine of moonlight filtering in between the curtains.

The sheets beneath you are damp with your sweat. They cling to your bare body, sticking to your back every time you arch away from the mattress, but you hardly notice them. You couldn’t if you tried. Your brain chugs along slowly, barely keeping up with the sensations between your thighs and the words your boyfriends say, let alone anything else.

Remus is kneeling between your legs, plunging his long cock into you with slow rocking motions of his hips, pushing and pulling a mix of his and James’s cum from your cunt—evidence of the several times they’ve each already had you tonight. They’ve taken you on just about every surface in your shared flat, in just about every position you could think of.

Now, they have you in bed. Remus has one of your legs hooked over his shoulder, his large hand running up and down your thigh in a soothing gesture.

“You feel so good,” he grunts, his voice cracking when James bites his other shoulder.

James kneels just beside Remus, half his body concealed to you behind Remus’s frame. He had one hand in Remus’s hair, massaging his scalp. The other is pressed flat against your abdomen. His thumb dips into your folds and brushes over your clit. James’s eyes are filled with awe as he watches you over Remus’s shoulder. Watching you fall apart for them is intoxicating.

Every pass of James’s thumb makes your whole body jolt. A long whine is pulled from your lips as James goes from softly caressing to rubbing tight circles into the swollen bud.

“That’s it, give us another,” James coos as a tremor rips through your body as yet another orgasm crashes over you, dragging a guttural noise from your throat.

Your breath comes out in shallow pants as you try desperately to ground yourself, but it’s impossible with James’s finger still brushing against your poor, overstimulated clit. You screw your eyes shut and whimper at the mix of pain and pleasure. You open your mouth to beg him to stop, but your words all jumble together. He can hardly make out what you’re trying to say, but he has a good guess.

“You can take it, baby. I know you can,” James encourages you.

“Fuck,” Remus grunts, grinding into you a little harder as he nears another climax of his own.

All three of you feel the ache of overstimulation by this point, but Remus and James handle it better than you. Maybe it’s because they get breaks between their turns with you.

Remus slides his hands under your ass, lifting your hips to change the angle. The thick head of his cock bumps into that sweet, spongy patch inside of you with every thrust, pulling squeaks and squeals from your kiss-swollen lips. Your vision blurs with tears at the sensation.

“How are you feeling, baby?” James asks, watching the tears spill when you blink.

You reply with nothing but whines and nonsensical babbles. James’s chest rumbles with gentle laughter.

“Sorry, that question’s too hard right now, huh?” he teases.

“Look at her all dumb for us,” Remus says, slightly out of breath. “Drunk on our cocks, aren’t you?” he asks, not expecting an answer. Remus starts snapping his hips against yours a little harder, and more gibberish falls from your lips.

James plants a kiss on Remus’s shoulder before he shuffles away, moving to kneel by your head.

“Here, pretty girl,” James says, guiding his cock to your mouth for you to drool on. “Shh, there you go. That’s it. Good girl,” he praises as you wrap your lips around the tip of his cock.

The salty taste of him coats your tongue as you suck on his cock like it’s the only thing you can remember how to do. You blink up at James with your pretty, tearful eyes, and he smiles warmly at you. Smoothing a hand down the side of your head as he whispers sweet praise at you, not that you’re able to process much of it.

There’s a dark glint in Remus’s eyes as he watches the exchange. The sight of you, dumb on both their cocks, sends him toppling over the edge again, stuffing you with even more of his warm cum.

Remus groans, slowing the movement of his hips to a stop, keeping his long cock buried inside of your pussy to keep you full as he comes down from his high. When Remus catches his breath, he gets James’s attention.

“C’mon, switch with me, James. She can take a little more. You can, can't you, baby?” he addresses you, leaning over you to run his knuckles down your face and over the hard bulge of James’s cock in your cheek. James shivers.

Remus’s gentle words and soft touch bring you back to the present for a moment. You release James’s cock from your lips with a pop and give Remus a small nod. Something tells you they won't be stopping anytime soon, and that’s your final thought before you slip back into the haze.

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