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tomriddleslove · 3 months

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Those Damn Thighs.

✩Marauders era Gryffindors x F!Reader

Summary: The one where a little too much to drink and too much time in the company of one Sirius Black means they’ve all lost their shame. Alternatively: Them thirsting over your thighs.

A/N: Marauders era obsession coming back? Yes.

There were merely 2 weeks left till the summer holidays were over and school resumed once more, and you can count the number of times you’ve revised on one hand.

Actually, on one finger.

Summer at the Potters seemed like an incredible idea, and you thought that it would be a fun way to liven up your otherwise mundane routine. In hindsight, you should have also recognised that a summer with all of your close friends meant it was near impossible to get anything done properly.

When the idea was first proposed, you pondered how on earth the Potters would manage to host Sirius, Remus, Peter, Marlene, Lily, Mary, and Yourself. However once you had arrived at the Potter manor you realise they could have easily hosted thrice your group.

It should have been no suprise to you that the Potters were filthy rich. Sure, James was a bit rough around the edges and rather boyish. One look at him, however, with his ridiculously expensive leather satchel that he never wears, or his beat up muggle trainers that he always wore despite having a pair of the finest leather shoes in his closet tells you that James Potter came from money.

Perhaps it was because James was so friendly, and oddly rather humble (at least when it came to money, for he had no shame in boasting about his quidditch victories or the girls he’s pulled), that you never really thought about it that much. You could only look on in envy, marvelling at their beautiful home whilst you think back to your rather small, dingy one.

The summer had truly been incredible. You’d sleep in, go out and play quidditch, head to town and pester the shopkeepers into providing you with treats at a reduced cost. You’d come back in the evening, and one by one clamber up to the attic which had been renovated into some sort of ‘hangout’ room, with a small charmed fireplace in the corner and a large persian rug. With the help of James, Lily had transfigured some old pillows into a few beanbags using Fleamont’s wand and the once dusty and bare room had turned into a haven for all of you to gather (and get drunk) in the evenings. Whilst the Potters were largely welcoming people and would put up with the antics that you all would get up to, they very clearly drew the line at drinking. It only took one day of probing from Sirius for James to cave and allow him to smuggle up bottles for the group to enjoy.

From then on, it had naturally become your nighttime routine. Whilst you had already been incredible close as a group, a few days of drinking together had bridged the somewhat awkward gap between the boys and the girls, with each respective group becoming more shameless in conversations and comfortable with one another.

That leads you to today, where you’re scoping out the hallways before sneaking over to the little alcove which had a hidden ladder to the side. You struggle a bit more as you climb up the ladder. You had recently gone out to town with Peter and Mary, and had settled on a pair of bootcut jeans that you saw passing by the shops on the higshtreet. They fit incredibly well, paired with the bell sleeves knitted top that you wore, you looked all the part of what Mary quoted to be “comfortable rockstar chic”. The only issue was that the jeans fit a little too well. Clinging to you tightly, they highlighted your thighs and the curve of your ass, making them look mouth-wateringly delicious. They were absolutely not suited for climbing ladders however, and you largely relied on your upper body strength to pull you up as you finally manage to get through to the attic.

“There she is.” Marlene jibes, and you roll your eyes with a grin as you brush yourself off and walk over to the group, flopping down next to Lily. Marlene is on the far side of the room, on one end of the fire place. She shares a beanbag with Mary, who’s splayed across the top as she stares off at the ceiling. On the beanbag next to her are you and Lily, and to your right is Peter. Remus is sitting cross legged next to Peter, with Sirius and James completing the horseshoe type arrangement on the other side of the fireplace. James is sitting on the floor and leaning his head against the beanbag, looking half asleep as Sirius props his elbows onto his knees, sitting up. You rest your head on Lily’s shoulder and the sweet girl hums lightly, a hand coming up to soothingly stroke your hair. The soft material of her forest green cardigan acts as a wonderfully effect pillow, and you’re fighting to keep your eyes open.

Everyone else was there bar Sirius, which you found odd as he seemed to be the very first person who was there, cracking open a bottle of whatever he managed to get his hands on.

You speak, voice lazy and subdued with the warmth from the fireplace and Lily’s gentle actions at the end of such a long day sending you towards an untimely slumber.

“Where’s Sirius?”

As if on cue, a head of curly black hair pops up at the entrance, pearly white canines peeking through the mischevious grin that tugs at his lips as he scrambles up. He joins the group, covered in an alarming amount of what seemed to be soot as he sits down next to James.

An almost comical cloud of smoke rises up into the air as he sits down and James splutters, shoving Sirius off the beanbag as he fans the soot away.

“Christ, did you go rolling around in the fireplace or something.” James coughs and Remus snorts, leaning back on one elbow.

“See, I took the floo to town because I wanted to grab us something a bit different. I was coming back when I just paused right at the top of your chimney. Had to shuffle my way down the damn thing and almost knocked Effie’s crystal egg off the mantle.” He murmurs, dusting some soot off his knee.

“James’ mum blocked the floo so James would stop being lazy. Sort of backfires sometimes and once he was stuck there for 5 hours because he was too scared to tell his mum.” Peter recalls, and James turns red as Marlene throws her head back, cackling.

“Peter…” James whines as the rest of the group dissolve into laughter, and you can’t help but let out a few giggles of your own, nudging Lily as you whisper into her ear.

“This is the same boy you have a raging crush on?” You taunt and she slaps your arm playfully, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Well, if you’ve soiled your pretty face so much have you at least gotten something good?” Mary quips, raising a brow. Sirius grins that cocky smile he so often wears as he produces an old green bottle, with red wax hardened around the edge.

“Now this, ladies and gentlemen, is the finest wine one can buy. Produced in 1890, this was produced and aged in the prevalent vineyards of Italy. It was hand sealed by a group of local farmers who harvest the grapes using-“ Sirius starts, but Remus snatches the bottle off him, inspecting the wax seal.

“Alright alright, enough waffling. Let’s have some:” Remus murmurs, trying to pick at the wax.

“Use your wand.” Sirius quips, and Remus looks at him with a deadpan expression.

“Oh, sorry Sirius. Has it not occurred to you that if we could use magic, we wouldn’t have to rely on you taking the floo to town to get some alcohol?” Remus remarks sarcastically. Sirius grumbles, the leather of his jacket squeaking as he crosses his arms.

“Does anyone have a pocket knife? It’s too firm.” Remus says, slapping the neck of the bottle against his palm. Mary hums, reaching into her pocket as she produces a pocket knife. You raise a brow at her as she tosses it over to Remus and she shrugs, her tone casual.

“You never know when you’ll need it.” She says, and Marlene nods in agreement. Remus has no luck with the bottle, passing it over to James. He stabs at the wax, making nothing but a dent. This doesn’t seem to deter him however, as he simply just continues doing the same thing over and over again.

“Boys,” You murmur to the girls with disdain, amusement lacing your tone, “Leave it to them to think bashing a knife into it will work.”

You all look up as they squabble over how to open the bottle, Sirius yanking it off James as he speaks.

“No, you have to twist it. That way the wax crumbles.” He says, trying to drive the knife into the stubborn wax. James shakes his head, pulling the bottle back.

“No, if you stab it you’ll crack the wax. Twisting it won’t do anything.” He argues back, and the boys bicker childishly. You roll your eyes, impatient and ever so slightly agitated as you push up off the bean bag, kneeling on the floor.

“Oh for merlin’s sake, give it here.” You snap, yanking the knife from Sirius and the Bottle from James.

You remain kneeling on the floor, resting your weight on the heels of your feet as you place the bottle between your thighs. You hold it there securely, flicking open the knife as you begin stripping away at the bottle from the side in long, slow movements. You angle the neck of the bottle towards James and Sirius, far too focused on getting the bottle open to notice the silence that’s fallen over the group.

After a few minutes of chipping away at the last of the wax, you jam the tip of the knife into the cork. Squeezing the bottle with your thighs slightly tighter, you pull it off with a perfect pop as a grin of satisfaction graces your face. You look up, and your smile falters slightly as you see Sirius dark gaze trained on you, completely silent. James shifts in his seat, mouth parted slightly as he gazes down at the bottle nestled tightly between your thighs.

“What?” You laugh, and Remus coughs as he tears his gaze away from you, tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip before he speaks.

“Nothing. Pass it here.” He says, voice oddly strained.

“That was the hottest fucking thing i’ve ever seen.” Marlene blurts, breaking the silence as a laugh bubbles out of you. Mary nods eagerly in agreement.

“Gods you’re all shameless. We’ve been spending too much time with Sirius.” You joke, and the afformentioned frowns, a sad little “hey” escaping his lips as Peter chuckles, nodding in agreement.

Now it’s Lily’s turn to nudge you, murmuring as the rest of the group chat about Marlene’s blunt (but honest) statement.

“She was right though. I don’t know how you managed to make that look sexy but everyone was staring at you. Especially…” She trails off, nudging you, and you grin with a small bashful smile. You’re about to probe further when a disgusted splutter catches your attention. Remus wipes his chin, grimacing as he looks down at the bottle.

“Pads, this tastes like absolute shite.”

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fourmoony · 2 months

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I HAVE THE BEST REQUEST AND IT'S PERFECT FOR JAMES! like imagine reader sitting at home and suddenly she gets a text from james to come outside and he's standing there🥲🥲🥲🥲 so she asks what he's doing there and he's like "i just wanted to kiss you" SORRY IF IT'S TOO SPECIFIC

thanks for requesting, sweetie!

f!reader 1.1k words cw: drunk jamie

You're half asleep when your phone pings, illuminating the darkness of your bedroom in a distracting glow and you're half asleep, content to ignore the single ping, a problem for tomorrow. But another one follows a moment later, the third only seconds after the second. With a huff, your hand reaches out to grab blindly for the device.

James' contact photo smiles at you from the corner of the notification box, his glasses askew and hair a mess. Your favourite photo of him, despite how vehemently he detests it. The messages are a jumble of words you struggle to make out, vowels in the wrong places and an amusing amount of emojis, even for James. A laugh huffs it way out of you as the three text bubbles appear once again, and a fourth message comes through. A photo of your house.

You'd be concerned, should anyone else have sent you the eerie looking photo of your house in utter darkness, but James is a love sick fool. You'd have to be blind not to know that about your boyfriend, even if things between you are still pretty new. He's not got a bad bone in his body. But it doesn't stop the way you sit up in a panic, scanning the floor of your bedroom for less embarrassing clothing. You come up empty, and your phone is incessantly buzzing in your hands now that James knows you've read his messages.

You use the glow of your phone to find your way downstairs, your house keys, make your way to the door and unlock it. James is sprawled out on the grass of your front garden, phone comically close to his face as he squints at the words he's typing. Drunk. Absolutely obliterated, clearly. You'll give Sirius shit for it, tomorrow, you think, as you let an exasperated laugh tumble from your lips.

James whips his head around at the noise, scrambles like a puppy to stand and bound his way over to you. He tramples some of the flowers planted around the borders of the grass and you fight a wince. He's on you in seconds, warmth radiating from him despite having been out in the cold for god knows how long. His arms are strong and steady, even though he reeks of beer, as he pulls you into them, lips firmly planted on the top of your head.

You try to peek over his shoulder for any sign of who dropped him off, but the street is empty, desolate, and you decide he must've walked from the pub.

Sleep still clings to the edges of your eyes as James pushes you back - uncoordinated and a little roughly, but you don't mind - and holds your face in his warm hands. "Hi, lovely girl." His voice is sweet and brimming with excitement at the sight of you and your heart swells.

"What on earth are you doing here, James?" You ask, though your words are kind and laced with amusement.

Your boyfriend only grins like the cat who got the cream, like he can't wait to tell you all about his adventure, until his eyes snag on your pyjamas. Technically, his pyjamas. His old juniors rugby top from secondary school and his boxer shorts, left abandoned by him last week when he'd slept in for breakfast with his mum and left in a hurry, a kiss placed to your cheek and the promise of being home for dinner. It had felt so domestic you'd had to talk yourself down from overflowing excitement for hours.

"Woah." James breathes, eyes wide.

You'd known he wouldn't mind you wearing his clothes, even if a little embarrassment at the idea had clung to your skin as you slipped them on before bed. But you hadn't expected him to feel like that about it.

"Easy tiger, you're three sheets to the wind." You chide softly, using the distraction to usher him into the hallway.

You close and lock the door behind him, place the keys in the bowl beside the door. James finds you in the darkness, hands soft against the fabric of his clothes on your body. You don't have to see him to know he's smiling that coy smile he gets whenever he seems to remember he has you.

"Am not." He mumbles, as if your statement has just now caught up with him.

You laugh, take his hand to lead him towards your bedroom. He follows quietly and without protest, but frowns when you flip on the overhead light and place him on the edge of your bed.

"What happened to Sirius' epic boys night on the town?" You ask, hands on his face as you crowd the in between of his legs.

His hands come to rest against the backs of your thighs, grip firm but soothing. He smiles, head lolling to the side, "Well," He sighs, as if buckling in for some wild tale of beasts slaughtered and mountains climbed, all just to get to you, "Sirius and Remus got drunk, like really, really drunk, and touchy and they were kissing and it made me realise how much I wanted to kiss you. So I left, and I came here for a quick kiss."

"A quick kiss?" You ask, eyebrow raised.

James just smiles, nodding dutifully, like it makes the most sense in the world. "Yeah, I gotta go back. They don't know I left."

You let out a long, suffering sigh, reaching for your phone beside James. "You can't just leave and not tell anyone where you're going."

"If they even realise I'm gone, they'll know where I am. With you." James shrugs.

"How do you reckon?"

"Where else would I be?" He asks, so serious and determined, so sure of himself that it makes your breath catch in your throat.

You can't help but smile, sweet and saccharine, glowing all over as you lean down to press your lips to James'.

"You're sweet."

James wrinkles his noise, grip tightening on your thighs as he pulls you down to him, falling backwards with a gentle thud. You catch yourself before your head collides with his nose and James grins, childish and playful, "You're sweet, too."

"Thanks, Jamie."

He presses his lips to yours, again, simple and warm. He knows he's in no condition for anything else, simply tucks you into his side and tries to get you to fall asleep with him, right there in the middle of the bed, on top of the blankets.

He's dead to the world in seconds, so you don't have much room for argument.

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