In My Mind Remus Have A BIG Breeding Kink

i have been obsessed with the idea of eddie calling reader "sweet thing" and being like, so soft with her

baby this is the one!! i hope this was a request cos i had things to say <3

"Hey, sweet thing." 

You know who it is before you turn around, attuned to the dulcet tone of Eddie Munson's flirting drawl. 

"Eddie," you greet, gifted with the sight of his lopsided grin, his messy dark hair as he ducks inside the club room. 

The zippers are open on the sleeves of his leather jacket, exposing small silvers of his arms, the very edge of his puppeteer tat. He shuts the door behind him before striding in, his scent awaft as he sits down in the chair beside yours. He should sit at the head of the table as Dungeon Master and his choice warms you from the inside out. 

"What are you doing?" he asks, rifling through his pockets. 

You let your pencil drop and sigh. "I've been trying to give my mage a cooler outfit but I'm hopeless with clothes." 

He peers over your hand at your character sheet and shakes his head, hair bouncing. "Are you kidding? It looks sick."

You smile at his compliment, bashful, and then heave a great sigh. "With where we left off last time, I'm not sure she'll survive anyway. Her clothes won't matter when Dorvan the Tasty spears her head clean off." 

"You're burying her before she's dead." 

"I'm hopeless with your game, Eds. I don't know why you keep letting me back." 

You slump in your seat, though you perk up a little as he sets one of your favourite candies in front of you from his pocket.

You've gone through as many characters as campaigns and have yet to learn which dice does what, each game a kerfuffle of asking your seatmates what you're doing every two minutes, not that any of them mind. They're all very accepting, besides Mike (who you've learned not to ask). 

"Hm," he says, rolling his shoulders, voice mockingly confused. "Now why would that be? What reason could I have for letting you come back…besides the obvious?" 

"The obvious?" You're almost afraid to ask. 

"Let's think." His voice is affectionate with a hint of theatrics. "For every question you ask, I get to hear your voice. For every die you roll, I either get to see your sulky pout or your eyes all creased with victory." 

He's edging closer, his voice decreasing in volume gradually. 

"The last game, when you rolled a nat20?" Eddie takes your forearm into his hands, thumbs rubbing lightly into your skin until you're shivering with goosebumps. "Your smile? Your little gasp?" 

He brings your hand to his mouth and kisses your fingers gently, watching you from under his lashes. "Sweetest thing I've ever seen," he says into your knuckles. 

"Eddie," you chasten, tugging your hand out of his grip. Not because he doesn't melt you into a puddle but because the rest of the club will be arriving in droves soon enough. 

Eddie only grins, more than aware of his effect on you. 

"And plus, I don't keep letting you," he says, standing up with a big groan that makes you crazy. 

He shrugs out of his jacket and drops it over the back of your chair, moving to the locked club cupboard for everything he might need in tonight's session. 

"You're a part of the club. Doesn't matter how bad you are at D&D. You keep showing up and you're eager to learn, the guys all adore you and I personally don't mind your company." 

You roll your eyes at him as you turn in your seat though you quickly forget to pretend you're anything but enamoured with him when his scent reaches you again, strong, the jacket he'd discarded fragrant under your nose. You give it a secret sniff and your eyes close ever so slightly, comforted by his familiar scent. Green apple buried beneath a heavy cologne. 

He's on you before you realise, one hand holding the dice box to his chest and the other stroking back your hairline. You look up at him guiltily. 

"Whatcha doing?" he asks, brows raised, mouth turned up smugly. 

"You smell good," you defend yourself, cheeks hot. 

"Yeah?" he asks. His lips part, the tip of his pink tongue appearing as he wets his lips. 

"Yeah." 

He bends at the waist. The chain around his neck hangs between you. "I taste even better." 

You giggle at him and jut your chin up, eyes slipping shut as he presses a firm, hot kiss to your waiting lips. You can feel his breath as it fans over your cupid's bow. He tilts his head to the left and you take right, noses brushing as he parts his lips to invite you in. 

When he pulls away you're dizzy with warmth, lips tingling, always so surprised by the effect even his brief kisses have on you. 

"Whadya know," Eddie says fondly, the back of his hand gracing your burning cheek. "You taste best of all, sweet thing." 

regal.

| loki x reader | fluff | smut |

anon requested. Loki and Queen!reader??? Like they get married and she’s nervous about being queen? And he comforts her and maybe they have some fluffy smut & Dom!Loki with sub!reader (with daddy kink) after he proposes to her, keeps calling her his queen

“They’ll love you,” Loki promised, looking down at the kingdom from his balcony high overhead.

“What if they don’t?” You questioned, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

“The queen of Asgard will not doubt her worth,” Loki corrected you fiercely, tilting your chin up.

The breeze blew through your gown, golden fabric swirling around you. You may not have felt royal, but Loki made sure you looked the part. He’d adorned you in gold and diamonds, with peeks of green, so you looked unmistakably his. 

“My queen, they love you already,” Loki smiled as those who saw you from below bowed and waved.

“I’m not your queen yet,” you reminded him softly, running your fingers along the railing of the balcony.

.

Loki had proposed to you during the midsommar festival. You were dressed in white, flowers woven in your hair, and you were out in the gardens, celebrating with the Asgardian subjects.

He’d gotten down on one knee, producing a ring with a delicate diamond. His proposal was straight out of a romance novel, genuine and sweet, begging you to be his.

The whole kingdom had celebrated your engagement, festivities lasting days. Everyone loved you, and everyone was excited to see you on the throne next to their king. Little girls had taken your hands and danced with you, pushing you toward Loki so he could kiss you.

.

“Come to bed, Loki,” you whispered against his back, your arms around his defined waist.

“I’ll be there in a few moments. Go rest,” he gently pushed you toward the bedroom, kissing your temple.

“I can’t sleep without you.”

“You’re making excuses,” Loki accused, though he followed you inside, closing the balcony doors.

“Maybe. But I’m nervous.”

His gaze softened, and he took your hands. 

“Come here,” Loki’s voice was quiet, and he pulled you to his chest, kissing your head. 

“Do you have your doubts about marrying me?” Loki asked seriously, his hand holding your jaw and tilting your head up to look at him. 

“Doubts about you? Never. I’m nervous about stepping into royalty. I would never doubt you,” you wrapped your fingers around his wrist, pushing up on your toes to kiss him. 

“How can I settle your fears?” Loki asked, and you shook your head, at a loss. You supposed you just needed to push forward, to step into it. You wanted to be brave, but the thought of ruling a kingdom was daunting.

“You are not alone. You will rule by my side, Y/N. From this moment forward, you will never be alone again,” Loki’s voice was full of certainty, and your doubts dissipated.

Your hand went around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss. His lips were soft against yours, but even in his gentleness, he was authoritative and dominating. You were melting into him, letting him manhandle you to the bed. He kissed your shoulder as he slid your gown from your body, letting it fall in a pile on the floor at your feet. His hands smoothed along the curves of your body, touching you before your back hit the sheets. 

“Still nervous?”

“Just a little bit,” you answered, tilting your head back as he kissed along the underside of your jaw, down the column of your throat. 

“Then let me distract your anxious mind. Submit to me darling, let me take all of you, even the negative thoughts and the doubt,” Loki murmured, his ocean eyes boring into yours. 

“Yes, daddy,” you whispered, a smile pulling at your lips. 

Your god grinned, meeting you in a kiss before hauling you up to your knees. Your eyes were wide as you stared at him, unsure of what he was planning. You’d expected your legs to be put over his shoulders– his preferred position, as he could hit you in the deepest places that way. 

“What are you doing to me?” you giggled softly. 

He moved to kneel behind you, a mirror appearing at the end of your bed. You gasped and leaned back into his chest, looking up at him. 

“I want you to watch, to see how regal you look with your god filling you,” his lips were hot against your ear. Loki touched your head, a crown of gold and emeralds appearing on top of your hair. 

He hauled you back onto his lap, hooking your arms around his neck. Your lashes parted and you watched him slowly fill you, sinking down onto him. Your reflection peered back at you, your body flushed, with pale hands sliding up to squeeze your chest. A whimper escaped your lips, making Loki thrust upward into you. Your fingers tangled into his soft curls, and he smiled, mouthing along your shoulder as he bounced your body on top of his, bringing his hips up to meet yours, repeatedly filling you. 

“Look at you, my queen, getting absolutely ruined on my cock. You look beautiful, darling, and I wish to see you like this forever,” Loki breathed against your neck, his eyes locked on yours in the mirror. 

“Yes, daddy, it feels heavenly,” you cried, your head dropping forward.

“No, I want you to watch.” 

Loki’s delicate hand closed around your throat, holding your head up, making you watch him fuck you. He squeezed gently, restricting your breathing as he mouthed at the tender spot on your neck that always made you weak.

You watched him repeatedly disappear inside of you, your abdomen distending with the outline of him. The sight had you soaked, allowing Loki to fuck you with ease.

Pressure slowly started to build between your hips, encouraged by Loki throbbing inside of you. 

“Daddy, I’m close, please,” you begged softly as his grip lightened on your throat, allowing you to speak. 

“I’m going to help you, just relax, darling,” he gritted, increasing the pace of his thrusts, moving quicker as he tore into your quim. You gripped his curls tightly as he dropped his other hand to your sex, drawing tiny shapes on your clit. 

Your thighs were trembling, draped over either side of his. His lap was slick with your arousal, your sex messy and wild. 

“Open your eyes,” Loki commanded, feeling you begin to spasm around him. 

You forced yourself to obey, witnessing your own orgasm in the mirror, along with his as he spilled into you. His body was cool against yours, contrasting the heat that burned through every inch of your skin. Even as he came, he was strong enough to hold you up, keeping you against his chest.

“I love you,” you stammered out, and Loki turned your head so he could kiss you. His lips were forceful against yours, fingers cradling your jaw, and an arm around your torso. 

“My beautiful, beautiful wife.”

“Wife-to-be,” you corrected him softly, earning another kiss meant to shut you up. 

.

You stood at the throne, a wedding ring around your finger and a crown on your head. You were adorned in the finest gown, hand-sewn by Asgardian women, all excited to make a wedding dress for their new queen. 

Loki’s hand was in yours, standing before a court of your subjects, all bowing on their knees. You’d recited their traditional vows, gone through the ceremony, and now you were being recognized as their new ruler. 

“Thank you, it is my honor to serve you,” your voice echoed through the golden halls, and a hum of approval echoed back. 

“Now, for the real festivities,” Loki announced. 

A festival commenced, the kingdom exploding in cheers and excitement. The halls were filled with dancing and feasts, all in celebration of your marriage. Loki spun you around to music, your gown swirling around your feet like a halo. Your laughter filled the room, mixing with Loki’s. When your body twisted back into his chest, he dipped you down in a kiss. 

“Queen of Asgard!” Loki cried, your subjects chanting your title after him and tossing flowers into the air. 

Space Girl- George Weasley

Space Girl, show me the stars You know the galaxies of my heart

George Weasley was not excited for his first astronomy lesson of the year. He’d agreed to do the class simply because he needed to fill his timetable and it seemed more enjoyable than history of magic.

That’s what he had told Fred at least.

In reality he had opted for astronomy for one specific reason. Y/N Y/L/N. She was a shy Hufflepuff girl and although he had never spoken to her George was absolutely enamoured with her.

So, as he dreaded the lecture ahead he tried to remember that this cloud had a silver lining, and it was a silver lining that was absolutely worth it. This was all confirmed when he walked into the astronomy classroom and saw her.

She was sat at a desk at the back of the room. Her hair twirling round her finger as she studied the open text book in front of her, seemingly unaware of the chaos around her. George noted happily, that none of her friends seemed to be in the class and rather than asking to sit with Angelina and Katie like he had been planning he figured what the hell and went for it.

“Hey, is it alright if I sit here?” He questions, willing his cheeks to not flush red when he looks up at him

“Oh, of course you can George,” she nods, moving her stuff to the left to make room for him. He feels his heart leap at her knowing that it was him and not Fred.

“How did you know?” He questions, head cocking to the side to look at her better. He smiles slightly at the bright red flush on her cheeks.

“You aren’t that hard to tell apart,” she shrugs

“Our own mother can’t always do it,” he pesters, he’s genuinely intrigued how she seemed to know so easily.

“Uh, okay then. You’re slightly taller so when you are together I could always work out who was who. From there I just kind of noticed little things, you have two freckles on your neck, Fred has a scar above his eyebrow. Your face is slightly longer, your nose is a little longer and has that cute little bump in it, your hair falls completely differently and your lip has a little curl in it. But the easiest way is that you have a different vibe about you,” She rambles like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and George himself wouldn’t haven’t been able to explain the physical differences so well.

He’s pretty sure his heart melted on the spot.

“You should tell my mum all of this,” he smiles gently, not knowing how to respond and explain that he’s never felt more seen in his life.

“Sorry, I’m not a creep or anything I swear. Just observant,”

“It was quite sweet actually,” George smiles, biting back a chuckle when her face blushes a bright red. “So, you any good at Astronomy?” He questions politely

“I’m okay. It’s probably my best class. I’ve always known about it so,” she shrugs, cutting herself off. She knew that George was a pure blood and probably wouldn’t want anything to do with her if he knew she was a muggle born.

“You’re a muggle born right?” He questions, she’s surprised his tone doesn’t sound angry or accusatory like was often the way with pure bloods, instead genuinely interested.

“Yeah,” she confirms “my older sister is obsessed with astrology so I knew a lot about it before I got here. It’s probably the only subject I didn’t fail first term,” she admits, George smiles softly. He can only imagine how hard it would be to come to the school with no magical knowledge.

“Look at you now, you’re top of the year in almost everything,” he points out

“Yeah, Ced helped me find my feet and after I settled in it all made sense,” she explains. George knew that her and Cedric were best friends, he was a lot more outgoing and George had never quite understood how their friendship worked but it was no secret wherever one was the other wasn’t far behind.

Girl, are you a cancer? ‘Cause you make me cry When we kiss or dance in the sky We’re dancing in the sky

“Hey space girl,” George grinned brightly as he dropped into his seat

“If you’ve forgotten my name you can just ask you know,” she blushes a little, not thinking that the boy she had fancied since second year could actually have given her a cute pet name.

No. The only logical explanation is that he had forgotten her name but after being sat next to her for two weeks now was much too polite to ask for it.

She had told Cedric this and he had laughed loudly, ruffling her hair and telling her that she would do well to remember how beautiful she was.

“I know you’re name. Y/N Y/L/N. You’re a Hufflepuff, obviously,” he gestures to her tie before carrying on “Your best friend is Cedric Diggory and you two are always together. You tutor my little sister in potions. You help Professor sprout with the plants in the green house on a Sunday morning. You like to study in the library, specifically the second table from the back left corner. You never eat carrots but you love peas and you always buy two chocolate frogs at Honeydukes one for the walk back and one for a treat that night. I’m not a creep. I’m just observant,” He finishes his ramble with a reference to when she had proved just how well she knew him a few weeks prior.

She sits, slightly astounded as he looks at her like his ability to list off so much information about her that she had never specifically told him shouldn’t be a shock.

Her heart melts on the spot and she’s pretty sure her crush just became real feelings.

“Why?” She questions quietly, not really meaning for him to hear

“You’re beautiful and I like looking at you,” he shrugs, turning to the text book in front of him. He notices her eyes still staring at him and turns to look at her “hey, you wouldn’t want to study together one night this week would you?” He questions, smiling at the blush that overtakes her cheeks

“Yeah. I’d love that,”

“Amazing, does Wednesday work for you? I could meet you at the library after classes end,”

“Sure,” she nods shyly, biting her lip to stop a smile and having no clue the very action makes George want to kiss her senseless.

“I know the table,” he grins, chuckling when she blushes bright red before turning back to his book.

Keep reading

Summertime and Sundresses

Summary: it’s the dead of summer in New York City, so you’re wearing a sundress. This causes Peter to lose his mind.

Warnings: explicit smut, unprotected sex, afab reader, dom/sub elements, choking, slight voyeurism, Peter being a horny mess. I’ve never written smut before so uh yeah.

@agnesamarantheastwood @decadentpaperduck @phoebe-danvers @vigilvntes if I forgot anyone I am so sorry

“Babe, come on! We’re going to be late!”

You had to laugh. A few months ago, getting Peter to come to the farmers market with you was like pulling teeth. Now it was his favorite part of his and your Saturday plans.

Saturdays were devoted to the two of you. No work, no Spider-manning (as you liked to say). Just you and Peter. Sometimes you spent the day running errands, sometimes you spent it lazing around the apartment you shared. What you did never mattered, what mattered was that you got to spend time with the most amazing man you knew.

Even if he was being impatient.

It was the dead of summer in New York City. Which mean that by one in the afternoon, it was going to be hotter than Satan’s ass crack. The two of you had several errands to run

You noticed the sundress out of the corner of your eye. You had brought it on a whim, after seeing it in one of those ’25 viral pieces of clothing you have to buy!’ articles on the internet. You knew deep down that those brands had paid the website to be on the list, but damn if that dress didn’t look cute. It was white and had your favorite flowers splashed throughout the dress, with tortoise buttons from top to bottom.

You slipped it on and headed into the living room, ready to start your day with Peter.

“Babe come on, if we don’t leave now, the empanada stand is going to run-“ Peter stopped when you entered the living room.

“-out.”

Holy shit.

He’d never seen you in a sundress. He didn’t know how that was possible, after dating for you several years. But fuck if it wasn’t the hottest sights he had ever seen.

If you asked Peter what his favorite part of your body was, he would say all of it, which isn’t a lie. But there were some parts he liked a little more than others. And right now, all those parts were on display. Your shoulders were bare and so was your back, other than those two thin straps that kept your dress up. Those two straps deserved a medal considering your tits looked like they were dying to get out of the dress. The dress came to the middle of your thighs and of course to look down at your thighs, he also had to notice your hips and fuck.

He slowly stood up from the couch, using his long fingers to adjust his pants to help better cover up his growing erection. He felt like a teenager again, crossing his legs and arms to conceal the physical indicator that he was horny for you.

On any other day, Peter had no issue picking you up and having his way with you.

But he also knew how unhappy you would be later if y’all put off buying a new showerhead again. You two also needed to buy groceries because this was the fifth week you and him had ‘decided’ you would stop eating out so much.

Errands first. Then fuck insanely hot girlfriend. That’s what being a responsible adult was, right?

“You okay Tiger?” Your sweet voice broke him out of his thoughts.

“Oh yeah, yeah,” if he repeated it enough, maybe he could convince you and himself, “Uh….I’ll be right back. Gotta go check something in the bathroom.”

“Weren’t you just saying that we need to leave?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah but that was before nature called!” Peter all but ran to the bathroom, hoping the cold water he was about to splash on his face would calm down the tent in his shorts.

Be a responsible adult first, he kept reminding himself. That way he could fuck you for as long as he wanted, without having to go do errands. Just be a responsible adult.

Being a responsible adult sucked. In fact, Peter didn’t even feel like an adult, despite all the errands you and him were doing. He felt more like a teenager, with how everything you did was turning him on.

Every time you turned your bare back to him, it made him imagine your back on the bed or against a wall while he fucked you. Every time you titled your head to look at something, it exposed your neck that was currently unmarked which Peter thought was a real shame, as he could easily fix that. Not to mention how every time you kneeled down to look at the flowers, your dress rose up a bit, which was causing him to think about how badly he wanted to bury his head in between your legs and-

“Peter!” Peter looked up to see you standing there, holding two different bouquets.

“Which one do you think May will like better?” You asked. You brought flowers with you when you first met May and it was now a tradition you insisted on whenever the two of you had dinner at her place. Peter was incredibly thankful that this dinner wasn’t happening until tomorrow night.

“S-She’s…. go-going to love whichever one we bring babe,” He stuttered through. He really felt like a teenager again and not an almost thirty-year old.

You lowered the bouquets, raising an eyebrow, “Are you okay? Is the heat getting to you? You’re sweaty.”

“Y-Yeah, I’m great! Just need…need to go to the bathroom.” Maybe if he splashed his face with water, he could focus. Or maybe the smell from the portables would do it.

“Again? Also the bathrooms are rancid, are you sure you want to go in there?” You asked as you put a bouquet back.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah! I’ll be right back y/n.” Normally he’d kiss you on the cheek or forehead but not this time. He was too busy running his shaking fingers through his hair and biting his lip, almost like he was-

Oh.

You had heard the joke. That sundresses to men were what rolled up sleeves were to women. Well, Peter just proved that it wasn’t a joke, it was an actual thing, a thing he was experiencing right now. Your boyfriend was turned on by just what you were wearing. You had done nothing intentional to turn him on.

At least, not yet.

You still had several errands that needed to be done before the two of you could go home. And you were determined to have some fun with this.

Turning Peter on was incredibly easy. Mostly because it was things that shouldn’t turn him on. Running your hand through your hair, stretching your arms, which caused you to stick out your chest. Even just reaching up to hold onto the railing while on the subway got him flustered.

Of course, that didn’t stop you from doing more intentional acts. You may or may not have stuck your ass out more than needed when you had to kneel to check the price of something. You may or may not have also tied your hair back so that your neck and collarbones were always on display. After years of dating, you knew Peter had a thing for marking you.

You couldn’t lie, Peter was simultaneously adorable and hot right now. His stuttering, running his hand through his hair, and hardly being able to make eye contact brought back so many memories of when you first met him. At that time, you were stunned someone so attractive was so nervous talking to you. Even to this day, sometimes you still had a hard time believing it. Believing that someone so amazing, so handsome, so incredible was attracted to you.

But it was times like these where you weren’t just aware of that fact, you were relishing in it.

Which is what gave you the confidence to slip off one of your undergarments while you were in the bathroom. You had suggested that the two of you stop by to grab some coffee and sit down to rest for a bit. You were almost done with your errands, you just had to a few things from your favorite deli.

You may or may not have suggested this specific place because they have long tablecloths that reached the floor.

“You good, bunny?” You couldn’t stop the grin on your face once you heard his nickname for you. Apparently, it had to do with the fact that one of the first things he noticed about you was how your nose would scrunch up when you laughed, like ‘a cute little bunny’.

“Yeah, I’m good,” You said as you sat down, gripping the sides of your dress so your surprise wouldn’t be ruined.

“So…. after this, we just have one more errand to do, right?” He asked before taking a sip of his tea. His hands had stopped shaking but making eye contact with you was still difficult-which alerted you that yes, he was still turned on. You toyed with the table cloth, pulling it so that your lap and legs were covered by it.

“We do! After that we can go home and do….whatever,” or whoever.

You reached your purse and started to fish out your chapstick. You found it-finally-only for the tube to slip out of your fingers and roll under the table.

A total accident.

“Babe,” you looked up through your eyelashes, “Can you get that please? I don’t want to flash the whole place.”

It wasn’t a lie. He just didn’t know yet how much you would have shown the café.

His brown eyes widen before he could mumble a mix of ‘yeahs’ and ‘sures’. He bent down to put his head under the tablecloth. As he did so, you couldn’t help but grin as you spread your legs.

Peter Parker knew he was not subtle when it came to how much he liked you. He nearly ran into a wall when he first met you because he could not stop staring.

You, on the other hand, had gotten much bolder when it came to making it known that you wanted Peter.

As soon as he ducked under the table, the scent hit him. He’d recognized it anywhere, as it was his favorite scent. It was your arousal, but why could he smell it here-

Oh. Fuck.

Well, that would explain it. Your legs were spread wide open and somehow you no longer had on underwear.

Peter had a feeling you knew how much this sundress turned him on. Now he had confirmation that yes, you not only knew but were teasing him about it. His eyes were burning into your exposed core and if you weren’t in a public place, he’d had no issue burying his face in between your thighs.

“You good babe?” You asked innocently from above.

Peter gripped the chapstick, taking one last look before he got out from the table. He placed the chapstick on the table, with a bit more force than usual. There you were, smiling away as if you had no idea what he had just saw when you totally did.

Fuck being a responsible adult, Peter needed to fuck you now.

“Yeah,” He grunted out, “All good. We need to go home. Now.”

You titled your head to the side, feigning confusion, “But we have to-“

“We’re going home now.” His eyes were dark and narrow. It felt like they were burning a hole through you.

“Okay,” You said, smiling before you took another sip of your iced coffee. You considered arguing, prolonging your teasing. But with how he was looking at you, like he wanted to devour you right then and there, made your reconsider.

Peter’s arm never left your waist the whole way home. You could feel his long fingers gripping the hem of your dress, most likely to ensure that you didn’t flash anyone. It also had to do with how horny he was right now.

You walked through the door of the apartment you two shared, slower than usual. You knew it wouldn’t be long before Peter had his way with you, so you were determined to enjoy your teasing while it lasted.

“We should put the produce away first. Do you still have the video about installing the shower head-“

A large hand snuck up from the nape of your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and pulling it, forcing your head to tilt back. You looked up to see Peter there, pupils blown and a hungry look on his face.

“Bedroom. Now.” He grunted. You nodded your head as he walked you to the bedroom, keeping a tight grip on your hair.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered as soon as the door opened. You nodded and began to grab the hem of your dress to begin taking it off.

“Keep it on.” Oh. Okay then.

You walked over to bed you shared with him, sitting down. The look on his face was nothing but devious and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t turning you on.

You loved how sweet and gentle Peter was with you. But you also loved when he was desperate and rough.

He leaned over and in that moment, you felt so small. He gripped your shoulders, pushing you back so you were lying down. You then felt his hands move from your shoulders down to the hem of your dress.

You hissed at the feeling of the cold air hitting your core when he hiked your dress up to your waist, exposing how soaked you were.

“Someone’s been a fucking tease,” he whispered as he traced his fingers along your thighs. He leaned over, his face inches away from yours. You didn’t dare move, not unless he told you to.

“See, my original plan was to just fuck you,” you felt his fingers get closer and closer to your soaked cunt, “But after that little stunt you just pulled?”

He leaned in, his breath hot on your ear, “I’m going to wreck you.”

Without warning, his fingers were filling up your cunt, curling just so to hit that sweet spot. You were already an incoherent, rambling mess which should have had you worried considering Peter had just started.

“You like being a fucking tease?” You felt his other hand tighten around your throat. You did your best to nod, which was hard with how relentless his fingers were on your cunt right now.

“C’mom bunny, use your words,” his fingers stilled inside of you, keeping you filled but not giving you what you needed. His grip on your throat loosen, enough to make it easier to talk.

“I-I like being your tease, Peter,” you got out, praying it was what he wanted to hear.

He smirked, “that’s right, you are mine bunny.” God, you hated that nickname when he first started calling you that, and now it was getting you even more wet.

Peter’s hand left your throat and trailed down to meet his other hand. His fingers began moving once again, in and out of you. You then felt another finger drawing circles on your clit.

Your back arched as you moaned obscenities, which was probably going to get you another complaint from the neighbors but at this moment you didn’t care. You were too focused on the knot in your stomach that was building and building

“Peter.”

“Hmmm?” He looked up at you, his hands still working on your pussy. Fuck, why was he so hot?

“I-I’m c-close,” you buried your head into the pillow, bracing yourself for what would happen next. It wasn’t your first time getting punished for teasing Peter.

“Good girl.”

Suddenly, you were empty, his fingers gone. You bit your lip, knowing better than to whine at the loss of contact. Even though your eyes were closed, the sound of the bottle of lube opening told you everything you needed to know.

“Look at me,” you opened your eyes to find Peter hovering over you. He had one hand on his leaking cock, which was lined up at your entrance.

“Tell me what you want,” He whispered as he pushed a strand of your hair out of your face.

“You Peter, I want you.”

He chuckled, “I’m right here. You gotta be more specific bunny.”

Your whole body felt like it was going into heat. Your mind was racing through a million different thoughts, though they all had to do with just how badly you wanted Peter to fuck you.

“I want….I want your cock inside of me. Please, please, fuck me, please.”

Peter chuckled, “you’re so cute when you beg.”

Before you could say anything, he began pushing inside of you, slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size.

Your back arched as he fully buried his cock inside of you. Your hands reached from him, grabbing onto whatever part of his body you could get. Peter rested his forehead on yours, wanting to be as close as possible.

“This okay baby?” He whispered, dropping the facade for a moment. No matter how heated things got, the last thing Peter wanted to do was hurt you.

You nodded your head, “please…please move.”

“If you insist,” he began to pull out, almost all the way before he slammed his hips into yours.

“Fuck! Peter!” He felt amazing, you never wanted it to end.

“Fuck bunny, always so tight for me,” he buried his head into the crook of your neck.

His pace was relentless and you loved that all you could do was just lie there and take it.

Peter gripped your thighs as he leaned back, adjusting so he was now on his knees. The change in position allowed him to spread your legs apart even more. Fuck, it felt like he was splitting you open on his cock. You were going to feel this for the next few days but you didn’t care.

You opened your mouth to speak, but he shoved two fingers in before you could get a word out. You moaned around his digits, sucking on them as best you could.

Peter knew he wasn’t going to last long, he had been horny all day. Which was why he was done with teasing you and now focused on getting you to finish. He was generous like that.

Totally didn’t have anything to do with how your cunt got even tighter whenever you came.

The fingers left your mouth. You then felt them rubbing your clit, eliciting even more obscenities from your mouth.

“You gonna tighten up for me?” You nodded your head. Between the pressure he was placing on your clit and him rutting into you hard, you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

That knot building in your stomach finally unraveled, hitting you all at once. Your walls contracted around his cock, as if your pussy was desperately trying to keep it from leaving you. He never stopped his movements, which prolonged your orgasm.

“Peter, please, come inside of me,” you whimpered. All you could focus on was how good it was going to feel when he filled you up.

It didn’t take long. You already felt amazing, but when you came around Peter’s cock, you felt incredible.

Within a few more thrusts, you heard him groan, which was a sign. You moaned at the sensation of him filling you up with his seed. You grasped his shoulders and pulled him closer to you.

The two of you laid there, trying to catch your breath. You snuck a hand into his hair, massaging his scalp as he placed gentle kisses along your now very marked neck.

“You should wear sundresses more often,” Peter said, breaking the silence.

“Noted,” you laughed, “I’ll order some more.”

“Can…can I help you pick them out?” He asked shyly. It was hard to believe that the guy who just fucked you senselessly was now nervous to ask if he could pick out clothing for you. But that was one of the many things you loved about Peter.

“Of course you can,” you pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Cool,” he paused, “I was looking some up while you were in the bathroom at the cafe.”

You let out a laugh, “if you’re going to fuck me like that, I’ll wear them for the rest of summer.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time y/n.”

A Christmas Special

summary: after Christmas Eve at Remus' flat, thick snowfall prevents you from going home. He's more than happy to host you

cw: mentions of alcohol, smut mdni, p in v, oral (fem receiving), praise, inexperienced reader, shy little idiots in love

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 11k words

Remus isn’t sure entirely how he’d gotten strongarmed into hosting Christmas Eve at his flat. James and Lily usually host, but James claimed that this year their house was in too much a state of “baby mayhem” to have any hope of being tidied enough for a gathering. He’s said it in such a lovesick voice Remus couldn’t push back for long, his friend’s happiness so potent it was like looking into the sun. Sirius had begged off quickly, saying that his “bachelor pad” was too small to have a group over. As usual, when Remus spoke last, the matter was settled before he’d gotten the chance to have much of a say. 

He’s made an effort to live up to the hosting legacy passed onto him by the Potters, but it’s a flimsy attempt at best. Thankfully, the snowfall outside is doing a fair amount of the work for him. Remus’ street is coated in fresh, gleaming powder, enough that the trees look weighted down with it and his neighbor had put her little dog in a knit sweater to go into the yard and do its business. It’s still coming down, the snowflakes visible in crisp contrast against the darkening sky as they drift lazily to the earth. 

Inside Remus’ home, the Christmas tree is nearly covered in tinsel to make up for his scant supply of ornaments, he’s run out of stockings to put up above the fireplace and has had to use one large sock (that one will have to be for Sirius), and he’s still stringing up popcorn when a knock sounds on the door. 

Remus is surprised (he’d told everyone to come at six, but that was only because he didn’t think anyone would actually show up until a couple hours after), but that dies away when he unbolts the door and opens it to find you on the other side. 

“Hi,” you say, teeth nearly chattering as Remus ushers you inside. “Sorry I’m late, traffic was worse than I expected.” 

“It’s hardly fifteen after six.” Remus takes your coat, tsking. “People do seem to become worse drivers around the holidays, don’t they?” 

“Well, I suppose not everyone on the road tonight might be used to driving in the snow,” you allow, ever forgiving. 

Remus smiles. “Merry Christmas, love.” 

Your face is already flushed from the chill outside, but he could swear it goes pinker as you unwrap your scarf, smiling back at him. “Merry Christmas.” You’re merry as can be, cheeks dimpling and eyes sparkling under the twinkling lights Remus is suddenly very glad he decided to purchase for the occasion. “Where is everyone?” 

“Well,” Remus says, heading back for the couch, “Sirius is hitching a ride with James and Lily, so if I had to guess I’d wager that James is just putting the finishing touches whatever food he’s decided to bring while Lily tries to rush him out the door. And then they’ll go to Sirius’ place and have to wait for him to finish wrapping the presents he undoubtedly just remembered today.” 

You sit beside him with a half-exasperated laugh. “I was thinking I’d be the last one here,” you admit, “but I’d forgotten how they can be when it comes to events.” 

Remus shrugs. “Easy to forget.” Lily is usually able to marshal James and Sirius most places on time these days, but the frenzy when they actually have things to prepare is inevitable; Remus has learnt to account for it. He reclaims his half-finished string of popcorn, clumsily stabbing the needle into another kernel and wincing when it goes through easier than expected, pricking his finger. 

“Oh no, did you hurt yourself?” you lean over, trying to see his hand. 

“No, just a scratch.” Remus has about a billion of them by now. He’s far from coordinated on a good day, but the unwise decision to have coffee earlier has resulted in shaky hands that make working with a needle somewhat hazardous. 

You watch him try again, and it’s really the distraction of your cute frown more than anything else that messes him up. His needle goes through the fluffy edge of the popcorn, stabbing him and giving the string hardly anything to hold onto in the process. The flake falls to his lap for his efforts. 

“Remus, your hand’s not a pincushion,” you say, and you weren’t yourself he’d almost think you were chiding him. You reach over, taking the needle and thread from him. “Here, let me do that.” 

“I didn’t mean for you to come here early so I could put you to work,” Remus protests, watching as you string up the next piece of popcorn with nimble fingers. Jealousy wars with admiration, but his esteem for you wins out. “You’ll never come back for New Year’s if this is what you have to look forward to.” 

You smile down at your hands. “Sure I will. You’ll still be there, won’t you? And I really don’t mind helping, it gives me something to do.” 

Remus smiles back even though you’re not looking. “Alright, well I guess that means I can start rolling out the gingerbread dough. Thanks, love.” He touches his hand lightly to the crown of your head as he stands, letting the urge to press a kiss there pass as quickly as it arises. He goes into the kitchen and a second later you decide to follow. Popcorn swishes against the floor behind you as you make your way over to the bar counter, sitting on a stool with the string trailing all the way back to the couch. 

“You’re making gingerbread cookies?” you ask, watching with eager eyes as he plops the dough onto the floured counter, rolling it flat. 

“Mhm. You like them?” 

“Never had one.” 

Remus feels his eyebrows inch upwards. “Seriously?” 

You look almost sheepish, as though this is a crime which you expect to be held against you. Honestly, you’re not far off; had James been here, you would have been questioned and scolded to hell and back, and then he would’ve made Remus give you some dough to try, salmonella be damned. 

“No,” you answer him. “We made ornaments of them in school, once, but we weren’t allowed to eat them. I always thought they were so cute, though, with the little people cutouts.” 

“They’re the best,” Remus agrees, pressing out the shapes and laying them on the baking sheet. “If you finish that quickly enough, I might even let you help me cut out a few.” 

“Yes!” you cheer, and he laughs as you start working quicker with the needle. 

“Don’t hurt yourself. The privilege of cookie cutting is not actually contingent on your labor.” 

“I know,” you say, but your hands don’t slow. Remus has barely finished filling his second baking sheet before you’re done, having made more progress in the last twenty minutes than he had over nearly an hour. 

Remus’ hip touches yours as he shows you how to give the cookie cutters a little shake in the dough, freeing the shape before lifting it and placing it on the sheet. It’s not a painfully difficult task, and still he’s impressed by how quickly you catch on. You’re a machine of efficiency. You seem to enjoy rolling out the dough almost as much as pressing out the shapes, falling into a quick, happy rhythm. Before long you’ve pushed Remus out of the way (Lily would be proud, he thinks), urging him to go and hang up the popcorn garland before everyone else arrives. 

You haven’t seen each other in over a month, both of you caught up in the hustle and bustle of the season, and you catch up as you work on your separate tasks. Remus talks to you about his job, the students who plague him and the ones he wishes he could take home after work each day, and how none of them had liked the film he’d put on the day before break. (“Mister Magoo’s is a classic!” you protest as Remus shakes his head. “They’re too young to get it,” he says. “Our classics are just old to them.”) You tell him about your new cat, and the sweater you’d crocheted her for the holiday which she despises above all else, and he promises to come over sometime soon to meet her. 

You’ve poured yourselves spiked eggnog and sampled a few ginger cookies (“They’re twice as good when they’re fresh,” Remus says. “Don’t let the others’ tardiness rob you of the experience.”) by the time the door bursts open again, Sirius of course not bothering to knock. 

“Hello!” he calls from somewhere behind a tower of presents. “Merry holiday to you, Moony!” 

You get up to help, and so Remus is compelled to do so as well, taking a couple sloppily-wrapped boxes from Sirius’ arms. 

“Merlin, it smells good in here,” James declares as he comes through the door, Lily carrying a beaming baby Harry on her hip behind him. James’ eyes fall on you. “Aw, you beat us here?”

Remus scoffs, setting down the gifts by the tree and leaving you to arrange them as you see fit. “Not a very difficult task, when you’re over an hour late,” he says. “You’re lucky Y/N’s good company, or I’d be more cross with you.” 

“Sorry,” Lily says as Sirius makes a dismissive sound, flopping onto the couch. “We had some trouble fitting everything in the car with Harry’s seat, and then Sirius—” she shoots him a glare, and he grins like she’s sweetly cooed his name “—wouldn’t leave without his hat, even though he’d lost it.” 

“One only gets to wear one’s elf hat every so often,” Sirius justifies, unperturbed. “I wasn’t going to miss the occasion even if it took me all night to find it.” 

“It nearly did,” Lily shoots back, but then James is at her side, having discarded his load of food and presents and now vying to hold Harry. 

“Come here, my handsome little guy.” 

“Used to call me that,” Sirius quips with his mouth full of gingerbread cookies, a heaping plate seeming to have found its way into his lap. 

Remus isn’t going to smile at that poor attempt at a joke, but once you laugh he can’t help it. 

“Only on special occasions,” James replies, taking Harry under the arms and hoisting him into the air. Harry laughs, and it’s probably the most contagious thing Remus has ever heard. Everyone smiles; James most of all, grinning ear to ear as he does it again. 

“He never lets me hold him,” Lily complains fondly. 

“Because I know how much you like seeing me with him,” James says breezily, making a face at Harry above him. “You’re mad with lust right now, Evans, don’t try to deny it.” 

“Sleaze,” Sirius says to him, the bell on his hat jingling when he tilts his head.

“I know you are, but what am I?” 

“I,” Remus says, “am hungry. And I’ll bet Y/N is too, since she’s very politely refrained from snacking much while we waited for you lot.” 

James' attention actually leaves his son for half a second to look at you and see if what Remus says is true, and you go instantly bashful. It doesn’t seem to matter how long you’re friends with them; having attention drawn to you will always bring some color to your cheeks. Lily comes to your rescue, ushering you into the kitchen like she needs somewhere to channel her mother hen urges while James is monopolizing Harry. 

“I hope you really are hungry,” she says, “because James has made enough bhaji to feed us all for a month.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Soon even James is stuffed and you’re all a bit tipsy on eggnog. Some of your natural anxiety fades as everything starts to feel slower and more fluid, your insides warm and soft as wax. 

“No, because it was so obvious,” Sirius says. He’s telling a story of a girl he’d seen at a coffee shop that he’s sure was enamored with him. James, naturally, agrees completely, but Lily and Remus aren’t so sure. “She did the—the thing. Y/N, back me up. When a girl makes eye contact with you and then looks off to the side, it means she’s not interested, but when she looks down, it’s because she’s nervous, right?”

You raise your eyebrows. “I think you made that up,” you tell him, tiny bits of laughter running in between your words. “Anyway, is her being nervous necessarily a good thing?” 

“She was nervous because she’s obsessed with me,” Sirius insists. 

“Or,” Remus says, “she was nervous because you were staring at her, and she thought you were going to follow her outside.” 

“And probably kill her,” Lily agrees. 

James’ eyebrows shoot up. “Merlin, you two are dark. Our Padfoot’s not putting out murderous vibes. He’s got too much boyish charm.” 

Sirius nods appreciatively, but Lily only shrugs, careful not to jostle Harry where he’s sleeping on her lap. “Girls have to think of those things.” 

“Gross,” James says, looking slightly troubled as he kisses the side of his wife’s head. “Well, I think she was in love with you, Pads.”

“Yeah,” Remus rolls his eyes, “he should show up at her house and find out. It’d be romantic.”

“And on that note,” James goes on, ignoring him, “shall we do presents?”

You all agree, and Sirius looks at James with an older brother’s entitlement. “Go ahead and distribute them, Prongsie.” 

James, well used to this, doesn’t even question it, scampering back and forth between the tree (which you can’t help but notice is somewhat lacking in the ornament department but quite sparkly) to deliver your presents at your feet. After a few rounds of this, you can’t stand it anymore and get up to help, laughing through the protests of your remaining three friends. (“He’s got it, love,” Remus says, and Sirius adds, “He’s got energy he needs to run off anyway.”) Between the two of you, the bottom of the Christmas tree is bare within a couple of minutes, small piles of presents next to each of your friends. You go to sit back by the pile meant for you, touched at the fact that you have a box from every person there. 

“S’not fair that James and Lily get to do couple’s presents now,” Sirius complains. “I’m going to start buying gifts for you like you’re one person, see how you like it.” 

The biggest pile is obviously for Harry, and you all start there, no small amount of eagerness in James’ expression as he tears open the first box. “The Velveteen Rabbit,” he reads aloud. “Wow, this is kinda hefty for a children’s book.” 

“Who’s it from?” Lily prompts, as if you don’t all already know. 

“Shit, I forgot to check.” 

“And that’s why we read the box,” Lily says slowly, and you get the sense this is a conversation that’s happened more than once, “before we start ripping, honey.” 

“It was me,” Remus volunteers, lips pulling into a half-smile. 

“Course it was,” James says, taking a break from sticking his tongue out at his wife to smile at Remus. “Thanks, Moony.” 

“You had the opportunity to get him Goodnight Moon,” Sirius tsks, “and you just let it pass you by.” 

Remus rolls his eyes, but then Lily says, “He already has that one,” and you watch as he tries and fails to suppress the shy smile that takes him. It shifts the scars on his cheek and lights his eyes with a warm tenderness. 

He looks especially pretty under the Christmas lights, you think. The warm glow suits him, bringing out the amber in his eyes and richening the various brown shades of his hair. It makes his skin look softer too, smooth even where you know he has stubble around his jawline. You want suddenly to reach out and touch it, and you’re glad you’re sitting too far from him to act on the urge. 

You’ve noticed Remus over the years, of course. It’d be impossible not to. You’ve always harbored a tiny crush on him, but you keep it shoved deep down in your gut where it can’t hurt anyone. You think the world of him, but you love your little group of friends more than anything else. You’re not unaware of the fact that Remus is a more crucial fixture in it than you are; if anything happened between you and it made things awkward for everyone, you’d be the one to go. 

“Aw, is this a hat?” Lily pulls something tawny brown from a box, and you realize they’ve gotten to your gift. “Oh my god, it has little antlers!”

You try not to smile too hard as she shows it to James and he coos, taking it from her hands. “No way, he’ll be like our little Prongsie! I’m going to put it on him.” 

“Don’t wake him,” Lily warns, but James waves her off.

“He can sleep through anything,” he says, settling the baby beanie on Harry’s head. Sure enough, he doesn’t stir. 

“Oh, that’s so darling.” Lily presses a hand to her chest. “Y/N, where’d you get this?”

You feel your face heat and hope the lighting is covering your blush. “I made it,” you admit. “I know we’re already well into winter, but I hope he can still use it a little.” 

“Um, he’s never taking it off. Like, ever.” James leans around Lily to press a smacking kiss to your cheek. You laugh, trying not to shrink in on yourself from all the attention. “Thanks, love.” 

Once all the cooing over Harry’s presents is done, the rest of the gift opening proceeds with decidedly less fanfare, though no shortage of gratitude. You get a bunch of purple eyeliners from Sirius (you’d complained to him a few weeks ago that they’d stopped selling your old one, and he’d been thoughtful enough to find you options to help decide upon new one), a cookbook from James and Lily (“Now you can stop eating all those frozen meals,” James tells you with a meaningful look), and a set of mittens from Remus (“They’re alpaca,” he explains. “Supposed to be extra warm, and your hands are always freezing.”). The rest of your gifts are received happily too, and then Remus’ living room is covered with the wrapping paper Lily had tried but eventually given up on getting everyone to put in piles as they went and you’re all starting to yawn. 

“Alright,” Lily says after a while, “it’s well past Harry’s bedtime, and ours, and I’m sure Remus would like his flat back.” 

“Booo.” Sirius lays back on the couch, letting his head loll over the edge of the armrest. “Domestic life has made you lame, Evans-Potter.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” James drawls, gathering Harry against his chest, “I saw you yawning, Pads. Let’s go.” 

You stand with the rest of them, going to find your shoes by the door. “Thanks for everything, Remus,” you say. “It was great.” 

“For a first time hosting,” James allows, jokingly prideful, “I suppose you did a pretty decent job. Big shoes to fill, and all that.” 

Remus smiles as he rolls his eyes, but it falters when his gaze settles on something behind you. “Are you all going to be alright getting home? It looks like it’s really picked up.” 

You follow his stare out the window. He’s not wrong. The unusually thick snowfall you’d arrived in has morphed into something that looks more like a blizzard, the wind whipping white across the black backdrop of sky outside Remus’ flat. 

James looks between the scene outside and his family once before seeming to make a decision. “Yeah, we’ll be alright,” he says, watching Lily as he talks. She nods her approval, and James’ voice becomes more solid. “We don’t have far to drive.”

Remus nods, still looking worried. His brows furrow as he turns to you. “What about you? Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah.” It’s the only answer in these situations, though you’re sure Remus would be alright with the alternative if you felt very strongly. “It doesn’t look too bad out there.” 

Remus casts another dubious glance out the window, and a particularly loud gust of wind whooshes past as if to spite you. “Are you sure? It looks pretty bad to me.” 

“Yeah,” James says, “don’t you live a bit far?”

“It’s not that far,” you fib, at the same time as Remus says, “She does.” 

You laugh awkwardly, pulling on your coat “It’s not. Anyway, I’ve driven in a lot worse than this.”

Lily gives you a small smile. “That’s hardly reassuring, babe.”

“You can stay here,” Remus offers, but you’re shaking your head before he’s even gotten the words out. 

“That’s sweet of you, but I can make it home.” You give him your most competent smile. “If I end up driving off the road and have to camp in my car, at least I’ll have fantastic mittens to keep the frostbite from my hands.” 

He gives you a deadpan look. “While I’m glad you’re excited to use my gift, I’d prefer to keep it from coming to that.”

“You can’t get in a crash and die on Christmas,” Sirius says. “It’d be, like, a super huge downer for us every year.” 

“I’ll be fine,” you insist. 

“Shortcake, I don’t care if we have to lock you in here,” James says, frowning in a way that doesn’t look particularly tough when he’s swaying back and forth to rock Harry on his chest. “There’s no way you can drive all the way to your place in this.” 

You roll your eyes good-naturedly, wrapping your scarf.

“Okay, you know I would never usually say this,” Lily says, gnawing on her lip as she watches the snow blow past outside, “but I think you should listen to the boys. It looks too scary out there to drive that far.” 

“It’s…” You look between them, your argument dying of futility on your tongue. James seems prepared to blockade you in Remus’ flat, and even Lily’s giving you a stern look. Your gaze lands on Remus, and the last of your resistance melts away.

“You really should stay here,” he says kindly. “Actually, I’d feel a lot better if you did. Okay?”

You sigh, slipping your scarf back over your head. “Okay.” 

“Phew!” Sirius says, pulling you into a one-armed hug. “Glad that’s settled. See you all soon, thanks for Christmas Moony!” 

“He’s so tired,” Lily says after Sirius is out the door. 

“Wiped,” James agrees, adjusting his grip on Harry so that he can wrap one arm around Remus’ neck. Remus leans down into the awkward hug, begrudgingly fond as he pats his friend on the back, then kisses Lily on the cheek when James moves to you. 

“Thanks for the gifts,” James says, grinning down at Harry’s knit antlers after he releases you. “He’s never taking this off.” 

“He means it.” Lily sends her husband a look as fond as it is weary as she hugs you. “I’ll probably have to bathe Harry when James is asleep so he doesn’t catch him without it.” 

Your face is feeling hot again. “I’m glad you like it,” you say with a little shrug, but your friends are used to your shyness and only smile and wave on their way out. 

And then the door shuts, and you and Remus are left alone in the quiet. 

“Are you tired?” he asks you, moving back into the living room. Lily had sneakily taken care of a good deal of the cleanup, but there’s still a few half-empty glasses of eggnog strewn about which Remus begins gathering. 

“Not really,” you answer honestly, beating him to the sink and forcing him to hand you the glasses to wash. “Are you?”

“No,” he agrees, and the look he shoots you has to be the gentlest form malice has ever taken as he takes up the dish towel and stations himself beside you. “Fancy a film?”

“Mmm, a Christmas film?”

“Obviously.” 

The dishes are finished quickly thanks to Lily’s interference, and Remus makes you some hot cocoa while you scroll through movies, calling out possibilities. The only conflict between you is your equal complaisance to whatever the other prefers, and you eventually settle on the first one you’d seen just to put an end to it. You take your cocoa gladly when Remus passes it to you, blowing gently while he settles a blanket over the both of you, your knees curled towards him and his one leg crossed over the other angling him towards you. 

The first few minutes of the film are spent in that contented quietude that the two of you so often fall into when you’re alone together, but then Remus asks you, “What is it?”

You look over at him. “Hm?”

“You’re frowning.”

“Oh.” You laugh. “I’m just thinking about snow.” 

His lips quirk. “It is kind of the bane of your existence tonight, isn’t it?”

“No.” You smile down at your hands, hoping it's not obvious how not unpleasant you find your circumstances at the moment. “That’s not it. I was thinking, I kind of hate how it always has to snow in these movies. It makes any Christmas where it doesn’t snow feel like it’s not up to par. Or not quintessential enough, or something.”

“Mmm, I see.” Remus looks back to the screen, considering. “Does that make this your quintessential Christmas, then? Are we living up to the movie standard?”

You watch him while he watches the TV, blue light cast over his handsome features. “I guess so,” you say.

The longer you sit there, the closer you get. You blame it on the late hour, your bodies relaxing towards each other on the couch. Remus’ arm brushes yours when he lifts his mug for a sip, and your knees dig into his thigh under the blanket. Soon you’ve drooped enough that you’re leaning nearly entirely against him. You don’t notice until Remus puts an arm around you to encourage your head to his shoulder. You tense but don’t sit up, and eventually his head comes to rest atop yours. 

“Are you crying?” he murmurs during one scene near the end. 

Your reply is equally soft, not wanting to jostle either Remus’ head or his shoulder with your speech movements. “I really like this part.” 

“You know how it ends. It’s going to be okay.” 

“I know.” You sniffle, bringing a hand up to wipe your face now that you’ve been caught. “I know it is. It’s just really profound.” 

“Sure it is.”

“It’s the spirit of Christmas, Remus. Goodwill to man.” 

“Okay.” He rubs your shoulder, and you pretend not to feel his shaking with quiet laughter. “Okay, I agree with you.” 

And awhile later: “You’re tired,” he accuses.

You hum a denial.

“Sweetheart” —your stomach flutters, and there’s a jolt somewhere behind your ribcage; you ignore it— “you’re practically falling asleep right here.”

“Are you tired?” 

He shifts slightly, stubble tickling your forehead. “No. But you are.” 

“I want to finish the movie.” 

He seems to debate this for a moment, then his shoulder relaxes beneath you. “Alright.” 

The credits start, and neither of you move. 

You let your head slump more heavily onto his shoulder. “Your place really does look lovely. Thanks for having me.”

“Of course, love.” You can feel his smile squish up against the top of your head. “Would you go so far as to say my hosting measures up to James’?”

You chuckle, gesturing to yourself. “I’d say you’ve gone above and beyond, for sure.” 

Remus laughs too. “Perfect. Tell him so, would you?”

You’re going to agree when a great yawn takes you. You keep it quiet, but there’s no avoiding the way your chin digs into Remus’ shoulder, your shoulders rising with the prolonged inhale. He moves away from you. 

“Ready for bed?” He smiles down at you as you run a knuckle under your eyes, collecting tears from your lashes. 

You shrug an admittance. “Sort of. But I don’t want to kick you out of your own living room if you’re not tired yet.”

“No, I’m pretty wiped too,” he says. “Anyway, I’m the one kicking you out. You’re staying in my room.” 

You had a feeling he would say something like that. You grab a throw pillow, getting situated with your head near the armrest. “No, I’m not.” 

His laugh is disbelieving. “Yeah, you are. Come on, you’re my guest. I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.” 

You tug the blanket off his lap, curling up with your pillow stubbornly. “I’m not going to steal your bed. You’ve already done so much. You’ve helped me try gingerbread cookies and given me nice mittens and hosted an amazing Christmas. Let me sleep on your couch, please.” 

“While I appreciate all that,” he says, “no.” 

“Remus.” You’re near pleading at this point. “Your back will hurt.”

“Your back will hurt.” 

“Not as badly as yours.” You give him a hard look. “I’m not taking your bed.” 

There’s a brief silence, terser than your usual ones but no more awkward for it. You stare each other down. 

“Right,” Remus says, reclaiming the remote from where he’d set it on the coffee table. “I suppose we’d better start another movie, then.”

“Remus, come on.” You sit up, giving his shoulder a gentle nudge. “You’ve just said you’re tired. Go to bed, please.”

The TV flickers back on. “I’m not leaving this couch.” 

“Well, neither am I,” you laugh, completely serious. 

He rolls his eyes, then snuggles up to you under the blanket. You take this as a sign that he’s not really very cross with you. “You’re much more argumentative than usual tonight, you know that?”

You huff, laying your head back on his shoulder. “I could say the same about you.” 

“True, but I know I’ll win out in the end.” 

“You can think that if you like.” 

“Want to watch this one next?”

“Sure.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Remus watches as your eyes drift closed, then twitch back open, over and over again. He thinks his bony shoulder is the only thing keeping you from falling over the precipice of sleep. If he were James Potter, he’d simply pick you up with ease and carry you to his bed, but Remus can’t say he’s entirely sorry for this extra time with you, even if neither of you are awake enough to make much conversation.

Silly as it sounds, he enjoys just sitting here with you nearly as much as talking. Your cheek squished into his shoulder, your legs curled up atop his, you’re warm and weighty against him. 

He should have known it would be a hopeless endeavor trying to get you to agree to take the bed. You’re a gentle thing by nature, but stubborn in your selflessness. Even if you had gone, Remus knows he wouldn’t have slept all night anyway, too preoccupied with thoughts of you all wrapped up in his sheets, your face pressed to his pillow, getting your shampoo-smell on the pillowcase. He doesn’t know if it smells like him (does he have a smell?), but he would have wondered all night if it does, if you were noticing. 

Your head nearly rolls off his shoulder, and a pitying sound escapes Remus when you jerk awake to set it right. He lets his head rest on yours so it doesn’t happen again. Your eyelids droop closed almost immediately, and Remus begins dragging his thumb over your shoulder blade, a nice, slow back-and-forth. You’re quiet for a long while. 

“Are you trying to put me to sleep?” you murmur, words all sloshed together. 

It’s a conscious effort not to let his thumb slow. “No,” he says. 

You hum. 

“Unless you mean it’s working.” 

Another long silence. “It’s not,” you reply, head growing heavier on his shoulder.  

He chuckles. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed, hm?” 

“You go to bed,” you mumble, and if he thought you were capable of it he’d say there was some bitterness lining your words. 

He sighs. “You’re too nice for your own good,” he tells you. 

“No,” you reply, softly, plainly, like it’s a fact, “that’s you.” 

He picks his head up off of yours to see your face. “Yeah?” 

“Mhm.” Your eyes are closed. You don’t know he’s looking. Your face is wholly relaxed, no hint of pretense about you. “You’re the best I know.” 

Something warm and wheedling works its way through Remus’ ribs to the soft gooey core of him. “Well,” he tells you honestly, “you’re the best I know.”

You seem unconcerned. “Another impasse for us.” 

He actually laughs at that, instantly guilty when it jostles you on his shoulder and your eyelids peel apart. He can’t regret it, though, when you look at him the way you do. You’re glowing in the light coming off the tree, soft and warm and lovely, and yet you’re looking at him like he’s the only place your eyes want to go. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

You come gradually more awake, eyebrows twitching towards each other just slightly. “Remus,” you murmur, and he finally does what he’s been wanting to since you’d shown up at his door hours ago. He kisses you. 

Your lips are pliable, parting for his almost instantly, like you’d been waiting. His hand coasts from your shoulder to cup the back of your head, keeping you close as your nose slides against his. You both all but fall back onto the bed you’d made yourself on the couch. He’s careful not to put too much of his weight on you, but when his tongue brushes across the inside of your lip and you inhale, he draws back. 

“I...” He pants into the space between you. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

You make a sound that’s half hum, half whine, and bump your chin up into his. 

Remus loses himself again with frightening quickness. It’s even better now that you seem more sure, your mouth asking, coaxing against his. You taste like gingerbread. An low, embarrassing sound pries free from the back of his throat when you wind your fingers into the hair at his nape, and he slips his free hand beneath your back, getting as close to you as he can. Your legs make room for him automatically, knees tipping open so he can slot between them.

“Do you—” you breathe when his attentions move downward, tilting your head to the side to offer access as he mouths at the skin just under your jaw. “Do you want this?” 

The word leaves him in a soft exhale, muffled against your skin. “Yes.”

You swallow. He feels the movement in your throat. “Are you sure?”

His eyelashes brush your jaw as his kisses slow, become more tender, more intentional. “Lovely girl,” he murmurs. “You’re silly, you know that?” His mouth meanders it’s way over to your pulse, getting stuck there and sucking at your skin lazily. “I mean, you’re smart.” The words are all mushed up against you. Noticeably amused. Remus quit the eggnog hours ago, yet he feels half drunk. “You’re really smart, honey, but you can be so oblivious sometimes.” 

You don’t respond, and as much as he loves the sound of your voice, he’s hoping your silence is in his favor right now. He wants you wrapped up in him, wants to engross you so completely you forget how to form your lips around speech. 

“Do you want to move to my room?” 

You take a breath. Fuck, even the sound of you breathing is nearly enough to undo him. He moves back to your mouth as if to intercept it, nipping at your lower lip. 

“Is this a ploy to get me off the couch?” 

“You’re relentless.”

Your lips curve against his, and he mirrors them without thinking. You stay quiet.

“Fine. I promise it’s not, okay?” 

Your laugh is fizzy like champagne, and it warms Remus’ chest like it too. “Okay,” you say in that lovely voice. “Okay, let’s go.” 

❆ ❆ ❆

You’d always thought Remus was all softness. He’s made up of soft looks, soft colors, and hair that you can now confirm is soft as dandelion fluff. But this night has defied your expectations in a thousand ways. And your Remus, soft, gentle, kindhearted Remus, is scraping at your throat with his teeth. 

You have to suck your lip between your teeth to keep from making a humiliatingly desperate sound when he passes his tongue over his work, another crescent moon that’s sure to be purple by morning. Your hands are beseeching in his dandelion fluff hair, keeping him close while his hands are busy lower, one gripping the fat of your hip while the other drags tantalizingly slow up and down your side. He’s kissing you like you have all the time in the world, sometimes rough but no more urgent for it, and you’re breathy and molten and useless beneath him. 

You’re brimming with adoration and something else too. Something that you think you could almost identify—you’ve felt it before, but never like this. 

“What do you want to do?” There’s a raspy quality to his voice that would send you to your knees if he hadn’t already taken them out from under you. He dots leisurely, open-mouthed kisses up the column of your throat, soothing over spots he’s already nipped and sucked into oblivion. Your head feels fuzzy. “Sweetheart?” 

Christ, is he trying to send you into cardiac arrest? Remus doesn’t stop kissing you even at your silence, finding your lip still held between your teeth and encouraging it free with his own. You try to remember what he’d ask you. What do you want to do? You have no idea. Where would you even start? You want him to keep talking to you in that raspy voice, that’s for sure. You want…you want to keep kissing him, to know what his hands would do if you let them beneath your clothes. You want to keep investigating that warm feeling in your gut. See where it takes you. 

Remus’ kisses slow, then stop. He pulls back to look at you. In the dim street light coming in through the window, you wonder what he sees. “You alright?” His voice is soft, gentle, saying it’s okay if you’re not without saying it. 

You take a breath. It shakes a little on the way out, but you don’t think he can tell. “Yeah, I’m good. Just nervous. But not in a bad way.” Nervous-happy. 

“Don’t be,” he implores, lips brushing your cheek. “It’s only me.”

Exactly, you think. It’s you. 

“What do you want to do?” You turn his own question back on him. 

His smile is tinged with bashfulness. “I mean, whatever you’re alright with.” There’s a tentative quietness to his voice. “Have you…”

If it were possible for you to get any warmer, embarrassment would do it. “No,” you say, shrinking away from him though there’s nowhere to go. Whatever the end to that question might be, the answer is no. 

“That’s okay,” he says quickly, dropping another kiss on the corner of your mouth like a cure-all remedy. “That’s okay, you just tell me if you want to stop, yeah? If you don’t like something, or you want to slow down—anything at all, you let me know.” He kisses you again, further up on your burning cheek. “Okay?” 

You swallow. “Okay.” 

“Don’t be nervous.” He says it like a promise, hand stroking your side again as if to soothe you. His lips find your shoulder, nosing the fabric of your sleeve. “Can I take this off, lovely?” 

You nod, words all stoppered up in your throat, then realize he can’t see you and do it yourself. He has to pause as it comes off, taking the opportunity to do away with his own sweater, tossing it on the floor beside the bed. You do the same, and your bra quickly follows. You’d always thought (largely influenced, admittedly, by trashy novels) that this was the part where the guy stops what he’s doing and openly oggles the shirtless woman in front of him, but Remus has seen tits before and wastes no time in getting his mouth back on yours, pressing you into the mattress. His skin is as heated as yours, the areas where you touch deliciously warm despite the cold still whipping past his bedroom window. You allow yourself one sweeping, appreciative pass over the muscles on Remus’ back before your hands go down to your bottoms, shimmying them down your legs. A long-fingered hand finds the exposed skin of your thigh and kneads reverently. You swallow Remus’ groan, and he kisses you more deeply, long, savoring passes of his tongue along the inside of your mouth until his lips move downward. 

One hand stays at your hip while the other strokes up and down your thigh, spit cooling in a path down your stomach. You try to relax as he passes your navel, but the anticipation is hard to shake. You’re nearly trembling when he kneels between your legs, kissing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. 

“Is this okay?” he murmurs. 

It’s all you can do to nod, gasping when his teeth drag over one of the stretch marks there. You clutch at the sheets above your head like a lifeline. 

“We can stop anytime you want.” 

You inhale raggedly. “No,” you manage. Your breathlessness is obvious in the quiet room. “I want—I want to keep going.” You pause. “Do you?”

You can hear the smile in his voice. “Yeah, love, that sounds good to me.” 

Good, you’re about to say, but Remus’ next kiss lands on your slit, and your voice withers and dies in your throat. He uses a hand to push one of your legs open further while bringing the other over his shoulder, spreading you open. His breath fans hot over your cunt.

You’re writhing at the first broad stroke of his tongue, and he wraps his fingers around the outside of your thigh, keeping you still while placating you at the same time. 

Remus takes his time, lapping experimentally at your entrance before making his way upwards. You gasp as his tongue skims over your clit, burrowing your hand in his hair before hesitating. 

“Is this okay?” you ask. 

His hummed assent has you tightening your grasp. He brushes over your clit one more time, and when this gets a similar reaction from you, begins sucking on it gently. You’re panting, and Remus has to move his grip to your hip to hold you in place, squeezing indulgently at the fat there while he narrows in on what you like. Before long you’re trembling all over, grasping feebly at his hair as you squeeze your eyes shut against the odd sort of bliss that’s taking you under. 

“Remus,” you breathe, and it’s a miracle that he hears you but he does, raising his head with a lewd suctioning sound. 

He looks at you questioningly with eyes almost all pupil. 

“Come here,” you plead. 

He obeys, crawling back up you to peck at your bitten lips. “Doing alright?” he asks you.

“Yeah,” you promise, cupping his head in one hand and wrapping your leg over the back of his as if to prevent him from leaving. “Just wanted to kiss you.” 

You feel him smile against your lips. He slots his mouth over yours, and you dedicate yourself to his top lip. He tastes like sex, braver now as he explores your mouth. He drags your bottom lip between his teeth, and you make a high, breathy sound. His grip on you tightens. 

“Do you think—can we—”

He hesitates, kissing softly at the corner of your lips. “Are you sure?” 

“I want to. Do you?” 

Remus actually laughs, muffling the sound against your cheek. “Yeah, I fucking want to. I’ve wanted to forever.” 

You can’t think about that. Think about that and you’ll fall to pieces. 

He noses affectionately at the underside of your jaw, slipping down you once again to stand at the end of the bed. He steps out of his pants and grabs a condom from the drawer of his nightstand. “You’ll tell me if I do anything you don’t like, yeah?” 

“Mhm,” you promise, anticipation coiling up snugly with that other thing in your stomach. They don’t feel all that distinct from one another. 

“Alright,” he says, palm slipping under your thigh. “Can I lift this up, love?” 

You nod, and he grasps the soft underside of your knee, bringing your leg up to your stomach as he lines up. You gasp as he pushes in slowly, watching your face to make sure you’re doing okay. You’re already slick and worked open from his ministrations, and it’s still a bit shocking. His thumb strokes beside your knee as your walls adjust to the size of him. “How’s that feel?” 

“Good,” you say honestly. There’s a note of desperation to your voice. “I can—more, please.” 

He’s quick to accommodate you, pushing deeper as he folds himself over you to recapture your lips. Your breaths shallow. His free hand moves to your breast, kneading gently at the soft flesh. He gives it a firm squeeze at the same time as he moves inside you, and you nearly bite Remus’ lip off, a half-suppressed keening sound escaping you. 

“So good,” he mumbles. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart. Taking it so well.” He lifts his head, kissing your temple. “Think you can handle a bit more?” 

Your response is barely more than breath, but he catches the affirmation, pressing another firm kiss to your forehead before he bottoms out inside you. Your head lolls back, fuzzy with the strange pain and even stranger pleasure. Remus tightens his grip on your leg to keep it up, dotting kisses down the side of your face. 

“Good girl,” he says hoarsely. “Still doing okay, lovely?” 

“Yeah,” you say, somewhat dizzy. “Remus, it feels so good.” 

“Good,” he croons. “It should feel good, love. Ready for me to move?”

“Mhm.”

He pulls out slowly, dragging against your sensitive walls. He starts mouthing at your neck again before he pushes back inside you, filling you up all over again. A slew of expletives roll out of your mouth, unbidden and entirely unlike you, as Remus begins pumping your breast again, the rhythm matching that of his thrusts. He sucks the flesh of your neck between his teeth, and you bite down hard on your lower lip to repress what promises to be a high-pitched and deeply mortifying sound. 

Remus praises you amply, soft kisses and reverent touches and a raspy “Fuck, sweetheart, just like that.” Your head floats or swims or both, your body tensed all over and yet completely plaint beneath Remus’ hands. He moves back to your mouth, discovering your bottom lip held captive between your teeth. 

“Come on, don’t do that,” he chides, easing it free with gentle kisses. “Let me hear you, bet you sound so pretty.” 

The Welsh accent that’s grown faint after years of living away from home is emerging now, as is the crude vocabulary it's tied to in memory, a host of barely comprehensible profanities spewing from Remus’ lips when you clench on him again. His grip tightens on your tit, and a moan tears from the back of your throat. 

“That’s it,” he praises, head dipping to kiss the soft spot he’s found under your ear. “There you are, lovely girl.” 

The coil in your core grows impossibly tighter, your thighs quivering as you approach a peak you’ve never known before. Remus feels it, cooing softly even as he drives into you harder.

“You gonna cum, sweetheart?” You nod dazedly. “Good, good, just let it happen, I’ve got you.” 

“Come here,” you demand again, and he wastes no time in obliging you. He kisses your lips sore as you dig your nails into his shoulders, pulling his body flush against yours, the feeling inside you growing so great you don’t know where to put it, don’t know if you can contain it. You can’t remember ever feeling this close to someone, Remus’ touch the only thing keeping you from hurtling off some unknown precipice.

“Let go,” he urges, and you do. You trust him to catch you. 

It’s bliss like you’ve never known. You cry out, and Remus’ hand slides down from your breast to spread wide and flat against your ribs. Steadying. He kisses soothingly at your jaw as you gasp and pant your way back to him, grip slackening on his shoulders. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, though you really haven’t done much at all. 

“Are you—” You swallow, choking on the emotion that’s risen unbidden in your throat. “Are you close?” 

Remus smiles, coming back to your lips like he can’t help himself. He pecks you once, twice. “Sweetheart, I’m more than close. I’ve barely been holding myself together since you kissed me.” 

Well, he’d actually kissed you, but you’ll take the compliment anyway. 

“Do you think you’ll be alright if I move again?” he asks. “It’s okay if not.” 

“You can,” you say certainly, leaning up on your elbows to see him better. “Is there…anything I can do to help?”

The smile fades from his face, leaving something far more tender in its wake. “Just, keep looking at me like that?” He says it almost like he’s embarrassed, voice quiet with supplication. 

You want to tell him you’d never needed asking to look at him, but you don’t, keeping your eyes on his obediently as he pumps into you. He really must have been close, because he’s cursing again not long after, accent twisting his syllables with a gruff pleasure. Your walls contract at the movement, still sensitive, and that’s all it takes. Remus digs his fingers into your waist and makes sounds you’re sure you’ll dream about, panting, breathy moans you sit up to smother against your lips. He follows you back down onto the mattress, mouth slotted against your own. You hold him to you until his breaths even and his grip on you loosens. 

“Was that alright?” he asks, some of the rasp still lingering in his voice. 

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, dizzy with affection. “Yeah, it was good,” you promise him. Understatement of the year. “Really good, Rem.” 

“Good,” he echoes, lips brushing the skin under your eye. You don’t know how you know, but you can feel the amusement building in him just before he asks, “Tired yet?”

You guffaw. The force of it jostles him on top of you, and his lips curve against your cheek. “A little bit, yeah.” Actually, you hadn’t realized how exhausting sex would be. If it didn’t mean having to take your eyes off Remus, you’d have closed them and passed out by now. 

“Good,” he says again, hands sliding down your waist as he moves to stand again. You make a small sound as he shifts, and Remus shushes you, slipping out from inside you. You watch fascinatedly as he removes the condom, sticky with cum. He tosses it in the wastebasket under his desk and walks away from you.

“Hey,” you protest. “You’d better not be sneaking off to sleep on the couch.” 

His chuckle echoes in the bathroom, followed by the sound of a cabinet opening. “So mistrustful,” he says when he comes back in with a damp towel. “What’ve I done to arouse such suspicion?” 

Your fuzzy brain gets stuck on the word arouse in his teasing tone, and it takes you a second to answer. “Well, I’m here and a blink away from falling asleep, so you tell me.” 

“Fair enough.” He rolls his eyes good-naturedly, taking your thigh in his grasp to move it aside. “Alright if I clean you up, love?” 

You startle, coming up on your elbows to see where Remus is holding the towel between your legs. “I didn’t realize it’d be so messy,” you admit. “You don’t have to, though, I can do it myself.” 

“I don’t mind,” he says, thumb soothing over your knee. “S’my mess anyway.” He seems to have not quite agreed with himself to say that last part aloud, a blush spreading over his cheeks. 

“Sure,” you say, mostly to alleviate his embarrassment. You let your weight lean more heavily on your elbows, trying your best to look relaxed. “Sure, if you’re alright with it.” 

“Might be a bit sensitive,” he warns. You’d guessed as much, but it's worth it for all the praises he rains down upon you as he works, finishing with a kiss to the side of your knee. 

You miss him humiliatingly when he goes to the bathroom again to discard the towel. It’s all you can do not to reach for him when he comes back, but luckily Remus reads your mind anyway, slipping under the covers and tugging you to him until his lips rest against your forehead. 

“That was really great,” you tell him. 

“I thought so too.” 

“You’ll stay here, right?” 

A low laugh. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’m staying here.” 

❆ ❆ ❆

Remus hasn’t known anyone to sleep in longer than Sirius, but you seem to be vying for his title. The sun has long since passed above his windows when Remus wakes, and still he has time to spend idle hours marveling at the closeness of you. His nose is cold above the covers, but everywhere your bodies are pressed together is warm, your palm flat against his chest and one of your legs wormed between his own. Your fingers twitch as you dream. 

It has to be early afternoon by the time he rises, slipping his hand carefully from beneath you and plodding into the kitchen. The blanket is still on the couch where you left it, throw pillow creased with your indentation. Your mugs are discarded on the coffee table with globs of once-hot cocoa stuck to the bottom. Bright light refracts off the snow outside and into his kitchen, making everything look shiny new. 

Remus starts the kettle first, letting that warm up while he rifles through the cabinets for his big mixing bowl and starts whisking together ingredients. A bird chirps outside as the kettle gurgles, and somehow the peace of Remus’ kitchen feels more complete knowing that you’re sleeping just down the hall. 

Until, apparently, you’re not. Your footsteps are so silent he startles when you appear, still blinking yourself awake as you cross your arms over the sweater you’ve thrown on with your bottoms from the night before. Remus’ sweater. And Remus had thought he’d come to terms with the idea of you here, in his apartment like the best Christmas gift of all time, but apparently not, because his heart stutters and stops at the sight of you. 

He’d thought you’d looked adorable in the soft glow of the Christmas lights the night before, and again tucked into his sheets this morning, but you’re almost ethereal now. Sunlight bathes the planes of your face and gleams off your hair, making you appear almost like you’re emanating the bright light rather than standing in it. You smile at him, seraphim. 

“Morning. Sorry I didn’t ask,” you say, fingering the hem of Remus’ sweater. “I was cold and you were gone, I hope you don’t mind.” 

Mind? Remus can’t even think. 

“Course not,” he manages, but just barely. It’s more an exhale than a statement. “Did you sleep alright?” 

“Really well,” you say. His sleeves cover your fingers as you rest your elbows on the counter, and your gaze has gone a bit shy again, but Remus can hardly blame you. You both seemed to have experienced unusual nerve the night before. He only hopes you aren’t regretting your part in it. And now that he’s had some time to think, he hopes even more that you’d truly wanted it in the first place. “Did you?” 

“Yeah, thanks.”

You lean a bit closer in a way that he doubts either of you are even slightly unaware of, peering into the mixing bowl. “What’re you making?” 

“I’m experimenting,” he says, though he wishes now he weren’t. He wanted to make you something good, but his confidence in his adaptation is waning now that you’re in the room. He should have gone with something basic, tried-and-true. “Or, I’m attempting. Gingerbread pancakes?” 

His voice crawls up into a question, as if he really has no idea what it is he’s trying to make (maybe that’s closer to the truth), but Remus’ regrets vanish instantly at the genuine elation that lights your expression. 

“Really?” 

A laugh startles out of him, giddy. “Yeah, does that sound alright?” 

“More than alright,” you declare with full seriousness, seating yourself at the bar counter. “That sounds amazing, Rem, thank you. Merlin, I owe you so big for all of this.” 

“I think you’ve more than made it up to me.” It slips out without permission, Remus too high on the flow of your conversation to filter the words through his brain before they reach his mouth. His loathsome, traitorous mouth. “I mean, I’m sorry—fuck, that sounds awful—I only meant that I’ve had a really good time with you here. I’m glad you stayed.” 

You flush horribly, and Remus doesn’t expect he’s faring much better. 

“Not that I’m only glad because of—or, I’m always glad to have you. As a friend, too.” 

There’s a tiny pinch in your features, gone before he can diagnose it. Somehow, you seem even more uncomfortable. “Right.” You give him a thin smile. It’s a hearty attempt, but you’re too genuine a soul to fake it. Remus hates himself for it. “As a friend.” 

They’re his own words, put hearing them from your mouth and with that piss-poor smile feels like having a fire poker jammed between his ribs. 

With his track record this morning, he really should be taking a vow of silence, but he can’t seem to stop himself. “Just friends, then?” Hesitance makes his voice sound quiet even in the silent kitchen. He looks down, stirring the batter to avoid watching the answer take form on your face. 

“I mean,” your tone is a match to his, “is that what you want?” 

A short, soft laugh escapes him. “I think I made what I want fairly clear last night.” 

There’s a short silence. “I thought I did too.” 

It’s a conscious effort to keep stirring. Had you? Remus had kissed you, he’d brought you to his room, he’d been the one to ask if you wanted to do more. And you’d been game for it all, sure, but he can’t help but wonder if you were just going along with it. If maybe you’d thought it was just a fuck, something he’d come up with to pass the time while you were both snowed in, no strings attached. Remus could understand that. He could disentangle the strings from last night if it’s what you want. But he’s liked you for years. He could love you oh so easily. He’s practically teetering on the edge of it already, though you’ve only been friends all this time. 

Remus spoons some batter into a waiting pan on the stove. He’s debating asking what exactly it is that you thought you’d made clear when you speak again. 

“I understand if it’s too much for you.” Your voice is shy. He looks up, and your shoulders are hunched as if you’re trying to hide yourself. You shrink further under his gaze. “We can stay just friends if it’s…if that’s what you want. I want whatever’s easier for you.” Your next words are so impossibly soft, Remus has to strain to hear them over the low sizzling of the pancake batter. “I really want you to stay in my life.” 

“What?” It’s a staccato, loud enough that it surprises you both, Remus stepping toward you while you nearly flinch back. “Sorry.” His hand goes up, reaching into the space between you as if he can soothe you from feet away. He lowers his volume. “Sorry, sweetheart, I just—I didn’t realize that was even on the table. I would never want to not be in your life.” 

“I just mean that I don’t want to make things weird for you, or for everyone else—”

“Hey.” He manages to cross the distance this time, his hand landing on your wrist atop the counter. Remus isn’t sure why he needs it there so desperately, but he suddenly feels much better. “There is nothing that could make any of us not want to be friends with you. I can speak for everyone in that regard. Okay?” 

You look at him consideringly for a moment. Remus holds your stare, letting you see his certainty. “Okay,” you echo, sounding unsure. He’ll deal with that later, he decides.

“Okay,” he says once more, and it’d almost be firm if it weren’t so gentled by the tenderness he can never seem to get rid of around you. Even so, what he says next doesn’t sound particularly tender. It’s not very kind to you, he knows, but Remus is selfish, and he feels (selfishly) like he’s done his part already. He tries to phrase it as nicely as he can. “Can you tell me what it is that you want, please?” 

You try to shrink again, and Remus’ grip tightens on your wrist instinctually as if to keep you from running off. He swipes his thumb over your skin apologetically. “Remus, come on.” You sound almost upset, but it’s hard to tell with your voice so quiet. “I know I’m not that good at—at covering myself up. I must have hearts in my eyes half the time I look at you.” 

Remus would give a month’s rent to know what you can see in his eyes right now. Even if he’d been hoping for an answer something like that, he hadn’t expected it. And for you to act like it’s been obvious…he does his best to think back. 

You’ve always been a shy thing. It had taken James months to get you to be remotely yourself around them, and though you’d seemed to warm to Remus first, you’d always retained some of your bashfulness when you were alone together. He’d chalked it up to the result of two people, quiet by nature, with no wildly extroverted James or Sirius or Lily to run interference. 

You’ve always been kind to him, but you’re kind to everyone. How is anyone supposed to suspect favoritism from a soul as indiscriminately sweet as yours? 

He recalls your voice last night, thin and reedy and fragile as the cattails that had bordered the river behind his house as a kid. Wary of getting swept along by the current, but willing to go if Remus would take you. Do you want this?

He’d called you oblivious for asking. How could you wonder, when he’d been the one to kiss you and has probably been looking like he wanted to for years? He’s certainly been thinking about it for as long. But perhaps your obliviousness is another congruity between the two of you. 

So much for opposites attract. 

“I think I’m an idiot,” he says, and mercifully, a smile far more real than the last sneaks onto your face. 

“You are not,” you reply, ever forgiving. 

“Don’t tell Sirius,” he warns, “but I really think I am.” His voice drops into a more earnest register. “I had no idea, love, I’m sorry. Maybe you’re a better actress than you thought. But if you don’t want to be friends, I don’t want to either.” Remus hesitates. “Or, I always want to be your friend, just—”

“Remus?” 

Finally. Someone needs to stop him. “Yeah?” 

“Your pancake…”

He turns to find a thin spire of smoke rising from the pan. “Oh, fuck.” He grabs a spatula and quickly flips the pancake, but there’s no saving it. The bottom side is completely blackened. It’s inedible. “Sorry, I…I’m not sure I have enough batter for much more.” 

“It’s fine.” There’s laughter in your tone, and that’s more than enough to make up for it. “It was a really sweet thought, that’s what matters anyway.” 

Remus turns to find you’ve slipped out of your seat and are standing uncertainly on the threshold of the kitchen. His heart warms with incandescent, aching fondness. 

“Would you come here?” he asks. 

You comply with an eagerness he wonders he’s never noticed before, stepping forward to let him fold you into his arms. Your wrists cross over his mid back and the tip of his nose mushes into your hair as he touches his lips to the top of your head. He can’t believe he could have been holding you like this all along if only he hadn’t been so thick. He supposes he’ll have to make the most of it now. 

“Let’s do away with asking about want, does that sound alright?” He rubs lightly between your shoulder blades, wonders if you like the feel of his breath on your scalp. “How about you tell me if anything comes up that you don’t want, and I’ll do the same.”

“Yeah.” Remus knows he likes the feel of your voice on his skin, chin moving against his chest. “Yeah, that sounds good.” 

“Good.” He smiles, pressing another kiss to your head. “Okay, should we venture out to find something for breakfast? Or lunch, I suppose it is by now.” 

You ease out of his arms. “I really should go home.” There’s an apology already embedded in your tone, but you add one anyway. “Sorry, but my cat’s been there all night by herself, so…”

“Right.” Remus ignores the dull throb behind his sternum, which is really a bit dramatic. He’ll see you soon, surely. “Yeah, that makes sense. Think you’ll be able to drive?” 

“I mean, I looked outside.” You shrug, backing towards where you’d hung your coat the night before. “The roads here are cleared, which I hope means they’ve gotten to most of them already.” 

“That’s good,” he says, though he feels the opposite. Your poor cat, he’s pitted completely against her now. She’s done nothing to deserve the resentment he’s directing at her, almost petulant in his malcontent. “Good, good.” 

You’re both silent as you put on your shoes, your scarf. It’s not unusual for the two of you, but it lacks its usual easy contentedness. Your eyes flit up as you pull on your new gloves, a silent thanks in them that you know Remus won’t let you voice aloud again. Despite the upset in his chest, he smiles. 

“I…listen, I have to go home,” you tell him, looking down as you wriggle your fingers more snugly into the gloves. “I have to feed my cat. But that doesn’t necessarily mean I want to…leave.” 

Remus can’t see how that changes anything, but he recognizes it for the olive branch it is. You’re both so uncertain, and you’re trying to alleviate his worries about what you leaving right now means. He can return the favor. 

“I don’t want you to leave either,” he says, “but I get it. She seems important to you, best to keep her well.” 

“Exactly.” You smile, relieved. “But I mean, if you’re not doing anything, you could come meet her? We could pick up breakfast on the way. Or I could make you something there.” 

Remus can’t believe his luck. And, once again, his stupidity in not getting there himself. Why is it that all of a sudden, everything that has to do with you seems so absurdly difficult? At least one of you is thinking clearly. 

“Yeah, that would be fantastic.” He’s grinning hugely, totally unlike him but liking it very much. “Let me grab my coat.” 

“Wait.” There’s a newly familiar breathless quality to your voice, and when Remus turns you’re already coming forward to meet him. Your palm slides against the stubble along his jaw as you stretch your neck, kissing him sweetly on the lips. “There,” you say, timidity shrouded beneath a good layer of happiness, “now we’re even.” 

Remus laughs, loud and startled. He wants to be generous with you, he really does, but he still thinks you’re far from even. “I’m not sure about that, sweetheart,” he says warmly, pressing a brief kiss to the corner of your eyebrow, “but we'll get there.” 

🧡

Not So Cocky - Draco Malfoy x Reader

a/n: this is my almost late submission for asteria's 4k challenge!! congrats to @chokemepansy on 4k followers, and i really hope you like this one-shot!!

my first fics on wattpad were literally harry potter, and so writing this was super nostalgic :) lmk if you're a fan of hp writing because it can definitely become my guilty pleasure!!

pairing: draco malfoy x reader

word count: almost exactly 3.5k

warnings: language, jealousy, fluff

prompts used: "is that new?" + "who gave that to you?" + "not so cocky now, are you?"

sneak-peek: draco is obsessive, possessive, and cocky, and you love it.

all dividers are from @firefly-graphics, they are so gorgeous omg!!

main masterlist | harry potter masterlist | draco malfoy

The first snowfall at Hogwarts lays a thin sheet of white over the rooftops, and you watch each little snowflake fall, almost mesmerized by them.

Most of your Ravenclaw friends disliked snow days; to them, it meant red noses, sniffling constantly, getting hit by snowballs, and having to wear an extra scarf in the library. It also meant mid-term tests and more and more stress that you just couldn’t deal with.

That’s why you spent more time with your Gryffindor and Hufflepuff friends this time of the year; they focused on throwing said snowballs, building snowmen, making snow angels, and, when the snow really piled up, going sledding. Even your Slytherin friends could enjoy the fun of the season, and they made the snowball fights even more epic.

Even though you were still a studious Ravenclaw, you were more popular than you would have ever expected. You were scoring high on all your tests, yet you still had time to watch quidditch matches with your friends. You were the nurse’s assistant in the infirmary, yet you could still go on adventures with the Gryffindors.

“Y/N, will you get down from there!” you hear below you, and you start giggling as you look down. Cho Chang, your best friend and roommate, stares up at you. You had used your bedpost to climb all the way up to one of the higher windows in the room, sitting on the window sill. This gave you a much better view of the snow and how it covers Hogwarts like a pearl white blanket.

“Why? It’s so beautiful up here, I could just gaze at this view for hours. Why don’t I come up here more often?” You smirk at her reaction as she rolls her eyes, already tired of you. “You know you love me,” you add in as she starts collecting the pillows off each bed, placing them on the floor in front of you.

She sighs, cracking a small smile. “Of course I do. If you jump forward just a little bit from the ledge, these should break your fall.” You can see her brilliant mind at work, making sure you wouldn’t fall to your death from the jump. It’s only just 10 or 12 feet off the ground; it probably can’t kill you, but you appreciate the concern. “Okay, go.”

On her signal, you jump down from the window sill. The pillows cushion your fall perfectly as you fall right in the center, and you look at her once you’re on your feet again. “I’m impressed, someone’s been doing their physics homework.” She beams back at you, nodding.

“One less trip to the infirmary, right? Now you’ve got to study for your potions exam, I don’t care how you did on your last one.”

You shake your head, helping Cho pick up all the pillows and put them back where she took them from. “Absolutely not, I am not spending the first Saturday of snow season in the dungeon. Potter and his friends are taking me to Hogsmeade this afternoon. Would you like to come with us?”

She looks at you knowingly, raising her eyebrows. “Potter? What do you think I’m going to say?”

You look confused for a moment before catching up with what she’s implying. “Ohhh,” you nod, smiling a little. “Yeah, that would be incredibly awkward. It’s for the best, I’m sure you’d much rather spend all day trying to get that Pepperup potion to not blow up in your face like it did yesterday.” You smile as you think of how red her face got, from the embarrassment and from the rich color of the potion. You had to guide her down the halls past snickering first years as she held her book bag over her face. You spent hours scrubbing the redness off her face, which only irritated her skin more.

“Oh, drop it,” she mutters, but you can see the smile creeping onto her features. “My face still hurts so bad, but you did help me when I needed you… and I guess I should thank you…”

You smile back, taking a seat on your bed. “You’re welcome, and there’s no need to be ashamed. One little potion explosion isn’t going to ruin your life. Trust me, I’ve been through far more embarrassing moments.” You stand up, sighing as you still see how embarrassed she was. “Okay fine. We’ll go down to breakfast and I’ll help you figure out how to make the potion, but I have a hard stop at one o’clock. Sounds good?”

Cho nods, smiling back. “You’re the best, I wouldn’t be asking for your help if I didn’t desperately need it.”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me,” you tease her, “I already know.”

Students crowd the Great Hall, most of them eating their breakfast while huddling around the frosty windows. “See, Cho, the snow is magnificent over here.”

“Never said it wasn’t, I just said that you shouldn’t risk your life to see it,” she sighs, sitting down at the Ravenclaw table. “We have perfectly good windows on the ground level.”

“Oh no, Y/N is right,” you hear as you take a seat, and you smile to see Luna push herself into the conversation. “Your dormitory has that cement wall in front of the window, which blocks the view. I was actually the first to climb up there, Padma practiced her levitation spell on me to get me down safely.”

Cho looks at you with her eyebrows raised. “Where did you think I got the idea from?” you smile back, shrugging.

Luna smiles as she takes a bite of her pumpkin pasty. “That’s why I had a scar on my cheek last year. Padma is awful at levitation,” she giggles, glancing around for a moment to make sure the Patil sisters aren’t around.

“That’s for sure. You need to lighten up a little, Cho, we only have a few more years left here. Where else can you get free crumpets every morning?” you smile at her, taking one from the basket. “Let’s just eat on the way to-”

“Where are you off to, Y/N? You didn’t even say hello,” you hear from behind you, a pair of hands resting on your shoulders. Blaise. Usually, you’d be disgusted, but you were used to the boy behind you by now.

Blaise Zabini had been chasing you since your first year at Hogwarts, and you never were really able to escape him. The game of hard-to-get you’d play with him was exhausting, and somehow he never let up.

Frankly, you didn’t really care much for him. Yes, he was sometimes kind and was probably wealthy, and he was one of the most handsome guys at Hogwarts… but he could be an outright prick to your friends. Especially your muggle-born friends.

“None of your business,” you mutter with a small smile, but you can tell he would just ignore what you were saying.

“I don’t know about that,” he responds, and you feel a cold, thin chain slide against your neck. “I got you a present, I’d love for you to wear it this morning at the quidditch match.” You look down to see a bright green gem resting against your chest, held up by the necklace he clasps in the back. “Don’t you love it?”

You smile, still confused. “I do,” you say back, trying to sound convincing as you twirl the gem in your fingers.

“No reason… it’s just beautiful, isn’t it? Thought of you when I found it. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, watching him saunter out of the Great Hall. “We are not going anywhere near that quidditch match,” you tell your friends once Zabini is far away, too far to hear anything you could say.

You walk with Cho down to the dungeons to see Professor Snape, a crumpet still in her hand. Reaching the door of the potions classroom, you notice it’s open.

“Come in.” Snape is just around the corner, oddly in his classroom on a Saturday. To be fair, you’re there on a Saturday. “What do you ladies need from me?”

You inch Cho further into the classroom, rolling your eyes at her fear of Snape. “Good morning, professor, Cho and I were just going to practice the Petterup recipe we did yesterday, I know she can get it perfect.”

He nods, looking up from the paper he was reading. “Very well. I’m sure with your help, it won’t be as disastrous as last time.” He eyes Cho, who blushes a bit. Almost as if it was on cue, she accidentally drops the crumpet into a nearby pot filled with an orange potion. The substance boils over instantly, spilling out and onto the floor. Snape sighs quite loudly, clearly annoyed.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go grab some towels to clean up. Start gathering the ingredients, I’ll help you in a moment,” you tell Cho, making your way back out the door.

“Storage closet, just down the hall on your left,” Snape mutters, focusing on his paper.

You listen to Professor Snape’s instructions, getting closer and closer to the Slytherin common room. You open the storage closet, grabbing a few white fluffy towels before closing it. When you do, a familiar face suddenly appears.

“Malfoy!” you jump, gasping as you drop the towels in your hands. He laughs hysterically at you, grabbing the one towel at his feet and letting you do the rest.

“You scare so easily, that’s quite fun!”

Malfoy could be an even bigger problem to you than Zabini. Though they both had the same mind sometimes, treating you the same way, Blaise was working off of practically nothing. You couldn’t deny the way Draco made you feel, butterflies in your stomach whenever he would have a long conversation with you. And he knew that; boy, did he! He could tease you all day if he wanted to.

You sigh as you close the door to the closet, looking at him. “What exactly do you want?”

Instead of answering you, his eyes trail down your chest to the emerald. The one Blaise just got you. “Is that new?” Before you say anything, his hand reaches to touch the gem. He plays with it in his hand, just as you had fiddled with it earlier.

“Yes, it actually is. Isn’t it pretty? I held it up to the light earlier, and…”

“Who gave it to you?” You look into his eyes, seeing him staring right back into yours. He’s serious, and you can feel him practically pulling on the necklace.

You tug the gem out of his grasp as you hold the towels in one hand, slowly backing away. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” The potions classroom is just a few doors down, I just need to…

He rolls his eyes, moving towards you faster than you had anticipated. “I very much would like to know, why don’t you just tell me?”

“Because it’s a secret, just let it go,” you counter, backing up more. You could see the fire in his eyes, the way his eyes almost bore into your skin.

“Just. Tell. Me.” His voice drips of jealousy, and you can’t help but smile.

You sigh. “Fine, but don’t get too upset. Blaise gave it to me this morning at breakfast, he said-”

“Blaise?!” His eyebrows raised as he stopped walking. “What, is he your new boyfriend now?”

You roll your eyes, holding the towels tighter. “Shut up, Malfoy, you know he’s not! He’s your best friend anyway; if he was, you should be happy for him.”

Draco looks as if he could hunt down Blaise, if given the chance. “If he was a true friend, he’d stay away from my girl.”

“Your girl?!” you echo him, looking as though he had slapped you in the face. It felt like it, too; his words stung as soon as they left his mouth. “Absolutely not, you can’t just pretend like you own me.”

“I’m not pretending.” He loves to get you angry, and he can see you unravelling before him. “You’ll see, we’re meant to be together.”

You roll your eyes. “You cocky prick. This isn’t over.”

“Where did Y/N go? The closet isn’t that far,” you hear Snape tell Cho. Your eyes widen as you turn and start to run, the gem hitting your chest a few times. In that instant, you run into the classroom.

“Sorry Professor, Draco was just helping me with the towels,” you explain when Draco enters behind you. His eyes go wide as he sees Snape looking at him, and he quickly hands you to the towel. “You’ve got to get to the quidditch pitch, the game starts soon,” you remind him.

“Right. I’ll see you there, Y/N,” he teases, heading out of the room rather quickly.

You turn to Cho and see her station covered in red liquid. Again. “We’re making progress,” Snape utters. “She learned how to move out of the way this time.”

You spent the entire morning with Cho trying to perfect the potion, and, finally, she made a mixture that wouldn’t blow up in her face. It made smoke come out of her ears when she tasted it, and it cured the sore throat she had told you about earlier.

Bidding Professor Snape goodbye, the two of you rushed down to the quidditch pitch to watch the match. It was Slytherin versus Gryffindor, a rivalry that was entertaining and exciting every time one could watch it.

The quidditch pitch, like everything else, was covered in a thin layer of white. The snowing had halted, but the snow-covered ground made for a fun match.

Taking a seat in the Ravenclaw stands, you look up at the players. You eye Blaise waving at you from near one of the hoops, catching the Quaffle and instantly tossing it into one of Gryffindor’s hoops. They were now up by 140 points, so close to being completely in the lead.

You turn your head to see Draco and Harry Potter neck and neck, whirring around the stadium. The golden snitch flickers right in front of them, both of their hands outstretched to try and grab it. You notice how close Draco is to grabbing it, and you decide to toy with him a little. You had bet on Gryffindor winning, and you weren’t about to lose “Go Draco!” you yell as loud as you possibly can, figuring he wouldn’t be able to hear you from so far away.

But he does.

He perks his head up, hearing you shout for him, and Harry takes the lead in their chase. Just when Draco tries to catch up, a bludger hits him right in the side of the head.

You don’t hear much from the crowd when it happens. They’re more focused on the Gryffindor goal that just was tossed into the hoop. Cheers from your section filled the arena, but you didn’t see Draco get back up. “I’ll be right back, Cho,” you tell her, setting down your binoculars and running down the steps.

You reach the edge of the arena, slipping through the Slytherin tent. Draco lays on the snow-covered ground, almost unconscious as he groans in pain. “Y/N, is that you?” he asks, coughing a little.

“Draco! Are you okay? Can you hear me? What the hell happened?” You run to his side, picking him up just a little and making sure he’s partially upright.

He seethes in pain, shaking his head. “No no no, don’t do that, that hurts.” His eyes open as he looks at you. “Why’d you cheer for me?”

You smile a little. No, you are not about to be honest with him. You are not about to tell him that you were trying to distract him so Harry could get to the golden snitch first. He could pass out at any second, and you realize he might not remember what you say. “Because I’m your best girl,” you explain, and you see him crack a smile before closing his eyes.

“Yeah you are,” he mumbles as his body goes limp in your arms.

You look up, hearing the rest of the arena cheer. “Gryffindor seeker Harry Potter has just found the Golden Snitch! This puts the Gryffindor team in the lead, 350 points over Slytherin’s 330 points. Gryffindor wins!” Thankfully, Draco couldn’t hear that.

Calling over Madame Pomfrey, you make sure Draco is on the stretcher headed to the infirmary. As everyone comes down off the bleachers to celebrate, you eye Harry, Ron and Hermione coming towards you. “You ready to go to Hogsmeade, Y/N? It’ll be a celebration for that amazing win,” Hermione says excitedly. Yeah, a win that you caused.

“Oh I’m sorry dear, Y/N needs to stay with me,” you hear Madame Pomfrey say as she ensures that Draco is strapped on tightly to the stretcher. “She is my assistant, after all; this is the worst injury we’ve had in a while and I need all the help I can get.”

You look at Hermione as she frowns a bit. “Okay, no problem. We’ll miss you, Y/N, but we’ll see you later.” She walks off, smiling as she takes Harry and Ron towards Hogsmeade.

Madame Pomfrey takes your arm, bringing you with her towards the infirmary. She wheels Draco’s stretcher along in front of her, and you gaze at his closed eyes. You hadn’t meant to hurt him, just distract him for a moment. It wasn’t your fault the Weasley twins were such good beaters. You’d won the bet, but at what cost? “He’ll be alright, won’t he?” you ask Madam Pomfrey, not taking your eyes off him.

You can feel her smile. She has been like your mother away from home, someone kind yet honest to spend your spare time with. She wouldn’t lie. “Yes, of course, it wasn't our first bludger-to-the-head incident, far from it. He just needs some rest and care over the next few days, but he will be up and playing in no time.” You smile at that, relief washing over you. He might be cocky and stubborn, but he would be okay.

A rustle of the sheets catches your attention, and you look up as Draco starts to sit up. He groans from the pain, holding his head as he lays back down.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you smile as you walk up next to his bed, and a smile forms on his face when you come into view. “How are you feeling, a little better, I hope?”

Draco just beams up at you for a moment as you apply a hot compress on his forehead. “Thank you, I’m feeling much better. You really are a good nurse’s assistant,” he adds on, and you smile at that. He had made fun of you for getting the job, saying that you’d never work hard enough to be good at it. Now here you are, and he has offered you praise.

“Not so cocky now, are you?” you tease back, and he rolls his eyes when you keep your hand on his forehead. “Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy this Draco, but you’re just a bit off. I love the way you get jealous and rather cocky, I-”

“You love me,” he breathes out suddenly, and your eyebrows raise. “I didn’t think you even cared for me at all but I can see it in your eyes… you love me,” he smiles.

You press the hot cloth on a few more places along his face before pulling it away, setting it down. “You really think so?” you try to stay confident, not wanting him to see through your facade just yet. “Keep dreaming, Malfoy.”

“But you said it,” he argues, reaching his hand up to grip yours for a moment. “You said that you were my girl, you said it on the quidditch pitch.” Shit. He remembered. “Don’t tell me that was a lie, that was the most sincere thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“So what if it wasn’t?” You move your hand out of his grasp, standing up to get a few bandages for his face.

He sighs as you come back, unwrapping a few bandages and starting to patch him up. He reaches his hand up, yanking the necklace Blaise had gotten you right off your neck. You gasp as you try to stop him, but he’s far from stopping himself. “Then we’ve got to let this prick know that you’re my love, not his, not anyone else’s. Here.”

He shifts a bit as he reaches his arms back, taking off a medallion that had been around his neck. “What’s this?”

A smile takes over his features once more, and he silently puts it around your neck. “The Malfoy family crest. Wear it with pride, because I love you.”

a/n: like, comment, reblog, and/or give me your feedback!! love you all, have an amazing night x <3

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | after you receive a series of anonymous love letters, eddie has a confession to make that might make or break your whole friendship. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | eddie munson (stranger things, 2022) x fem!reader 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 | smut (minors dni, fingering f!receiving, praise kink, innocence kink, corruption kink), a little possessiveness if you squint, cute fluffy eddie head over heels for you, everyone in this is 18+ and if you aren't, you shouldn't be reading it! 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | i wrote this in (mostly) one sitting because the idea came to me and i couldn’t let it go, and it's absurdly long so.... here’s some sweet eddie smut!

You opened your locker, and watched as it fell out, just like every day. Every day for the past month, someone had been sneaking notes through the vent of your locker door, and you had no idea who was doing it. You thought it would be easy to figure out, the messy, nearly-illegible, handwriting indicative of a boy, but not even asking the Hellfire Club for opinions helped bring an answer. All that had succeeded in was Dustin poking fun at you for getting anonymous love letters, and you had sighed with exhaustion and snatched the first note back. 

You picked up the newest note from next to your shoe, unfolding it to read the newest sentiment. The handwriting was a little messier than usual, maybe rushed or something, and it read the same as every other note: that you were beautiful and smart, that any man who calls himself your boyfriend is lucky, then goes on to ask “Do you still not know who I am? I thought it was obvious, princess. Oh well. Maybe one day you’ll figure it out, and then I can be yours.” Not a single note was signed with a name or anything identifiable, and it was driving you crazy trying to figure it out. 

Before you could properly read the new note, it was being pulled out of your hand, and you whipped your head around to see Eddie, smiling like a goofball and examining the note. “Damn,” he chuckled. “Whoever this is has got it bad for you.” 

“Eddie,” you whined. “Gimme that back, it’s private.”

“What is it?” Eddie asked, examining the note. “Wait… Is this that letter you showed us, like, forever ago?”

“No,” you told him. “It’s like… I’ve been getting them every day since then.”

“Every day?” Eddie repeated, pulling a confused face, a grimace with knitted eyebrows.. “I thought it was just the one?”

“C’mon, seriously, give it back,” you groaned, but Eddie used his height against you, lifting the note above his head and craning his head to read it.

“A month of this?” Eddie asked. “‘I think about you every day, imagining what it would be like to be your man’— does this kinda shit work on you?”

“Eddie, c’mon,” you said, and you grabbed at the note. Eddie was quicker than you, though, turning to defend himself and the love letter. 

“Who is it?” He asked. “Do you know?” 

You sighed, seeing no way out of this. Eddie had been at the helm of teasing when you had first brought the issue to the Hellfire Club, nothing really harmful but it still made your stomach curdle. He seemed more invested in the mystery than even you were, even if he didn’t remember it until now.

“I have no idea,” you admitted. “I’ve been trying to figure it out, but nobody recognizes the handwriting. Anyway, who would like me this much to write weird anonymous love letters?”

Eddie handed the crinkled note back to you, and you almost missed the way his face fell. “You think they’re weird?” he asked, and you shrugged as you folded the letter back up. 

“It’s certainly not normal,” you said. “Why can’t this guy just tell me that he likes me? He can drop this pining bullshit he’s doing.” 

“Maybe he’s scared to tell you,” Eddie offered. He leaned up against the locker next to you, his fluffy curls flattening against the metal, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe he’s so afraid you’ll say no that he can’t even bear to tell you in person.” 

“Well, I can’t say yes if I don’t know who he is,” you sighed. 

“That’s true,” Eddie offered. “But seriously, does that mushy shit work on you?” 

You floundered for an answer, not wanting to give Eddie the satisfaction of being right, but your hesitation was answer enough. 

“It does!” Eddie laughed. “Oh, that’s amazing, you’re a little romantic.”

“I mean, maybe!” you said with a heavy shrug. “It’s just nice to have someone be, like, head over heels for me, y’know? Knowing that I’m appreciated like this…” 

Eddie sighed heavily through his nose, and he said, “Give me that note, I’ll read it to you.”

“Fuck off,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes. 

“No, really,” Eddie said. His chocolatey eyes widened with earnestness, and he added, “If you want someone to appreciate you, I’ll do it.” 

“I already know you appreciate me,” you said. “You’re like my brother, Ed. Anyway, you don’t wanna appreciate me like this.”

“Why not?” Eddie asked, and he took the note from your hand once more. “Is it dirty? Is he sending you dirty letters?” 

“Not always,” you told him. “I haven’t properly read this one yet; someone took it from me before I could.” 

Eddie opened the note and cleared his throat, and he read it off to you. “‘Princess’,” he snickered. “Strong start. He calls you princess?” 

“Shut the fuck up,” you groaned and tried to snatch the note away, but Eddie held you at arm’s length, keeping you away. 

“‘Princess, I thought about you all day’,” Eddie read. “‘It doesn’t help that you look so cute today. You should wear that lipstick more often, it makes your eyes look nice. Sometimes I think about what kissing your perfect lips would be like, having your lipstick stain my mouth. It’s enough to drive a man crazy. Is that something you would like? Do you like to be kissed, princess? When we meet, that’s the very first thing I’ll do, is kiss you. I think about you everyday, imagining what it would be like to be your man.’” Eddie paused to smile at the line that he had picked out before, and he continued. “I’d like you to be my girl, in any way I can have you. I love you.’”

“It does not say that,” you huffed. “He did not tell me he loves me.” 

“Okay, you’re right, that’s not written,” Eddie admitted, and you rolled your eyes. “But it might as well be! This guy's in love with you! That’s some sappy shit, babe, he’s got it bad.”

Before you could retort, the bell sounded, and you groaned as you finally retrieved the note from Eddie’s hand. “I’ll see you this afternoon,” you told him, shoving the note in your pocket. “Forget you ever read that.”

“Forgotten,” Eddie said with a nod. “I’ll see you at Hellfire, princess.” 

“Don’t call me that!” you shouted after him as he left down the hallway, and you sighed and brushed your fingers against your pocket. The note was sweet, but the problem came with Eddie. Now that he had narrated the letter, you couldn’t help but imagine only his voice as you read it back. The image of Eddie slaving over writing the perfect love note stuck in your head, and you physically shook your head to get rid of the thought. 

It wasn’t Eddie. There was no way it could be. You knew what Eddie’s handwriting looked like and it wasn’t what was on the sheet of paper. Anyway, you knew Eddie well, and he wasn’t shy like that. If he liked you enough to send love letters, he would just tell you as much. Deep in your chest, you sorta hoped it was Eddie writing you the letters. Even if it wasn’t sincere and was a prank (which was uncharacteristic for Eddie, but not entirely out of the realm of possibility), the idea that Eddie even noticed your lipstick or had the inkling of a desire to kiss you made your stomach turn flips. It was about time to face the music: you liked him.

You closed your locker with a sigh, and you made your way to class, the letter burning a hole in your pocket. 

Hellfire was successful that afternoon. Not exactly successful for the campaign— by all accounts, half of your group dying from a single hit by Vecna and the last member standing failing to kill him was very unsuccessful— but you always liked hanging out with the guys from Hellfire and always considered it a win. As the only girl, it was sometimes difficult to only hang out with guys, but everyone, even the freshmen, treated you nicely. Dustin looked at you like a sister, and you frequently drove him home after meetings.

“Can we get food on the way home?” Dustin asked as he shoved his binder into his backpack, and you shrugged. 

“Why not?” you asked. “What’re you thinking?” 

“I’m not sure,” Dustin replied. “You can choose.”

“How kind,” you smiled. “How about—”

“Hey, princess,” Eddie began from his place on his Dungeon Master throne. You turned to him, and he beckoned you over with a swipe of his fingers: “I wanna talk to you.” 

You sighed and rolled your eyes, and you shouldered your backpack as you turned back to Dustin. “Go to the car,” you told him and tossed him your car keys. “Get the heat going, alright?” 

Dustin did as you told him, and you tilted your head curiously at Eddie. He had his sleeves rolled up, exposing the tattoos on his lower arms, his hair all frizzy but still looking nice, and he had his plump pink lips pursed. “What’s up?” you asked. 

“I was thinking about your little letter situation,” Eddie began. “The anonymous author and all.”

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Eddie, really, leave it alone, it’s truly not that big a deal.”

“Yeah, but if some creep is trying to put the moves on you, the least he can do is do it in person,” Eddie sighed. “You deserve better than just some creepy love letters shoved in your locker.” 

“Do I?” you laughed, and Eddie’s dark eyes flashed. 

“Of course you do,” Eddie said. “You’re the best girl at Hawkins.”

“Chrissy Cunningham might disagree,” you mumbled under your breath, and Eddie sighed as he rolled his eyes. 

“Well, I think you’re the best girl at Hawkins, and that’s what matters,” he said. “Listen to me: I really care about you, and I hate that these letters are making you so… Uncomfortable.”

“They’re not making me uncomfortable,” you said. “I like them. I’m just annoyed that I don’t know who it is.” 

Eddie slowly stood from his throne, and he moved towards you carefully, like he was afraid that he was going to startle you. “You are beautiful,” he told you. “And you’re funny. And that guy is right, you’re enough to drive a man crazy. And you have, princess, you’ve made me completely mad.” 

You huffed out a wary laugh. “Eddie, what the fuck?” you chuckled, but you were stunned silent when he reached forward and took your hand. 

Eddie took a deep breath, his chest heaving with it, and he said, “I wrote those letters. All of them. Every single one.”

Your heart dropped, and you stepped away from Eddie. “No you didn’t,” you said. “If you liked me, you would’ve just told me.”

“And I wanted to,” Eddie said. “But I was shy and scared. I was terrified that you would reject me, so I… I found a way you couldn’t reject me.” 

Your mouth felt dry, and you felt warm under Eddie’s gaze. “Eddie,” you uttered. “Y-You didn’t really… You’re not…” 

“I can prove it,” Eddie said quickly. He went back to his throne and grabbed his metal lunchbox from the floor, and he opened it up to pull out several scraps of notebook paper, the same ones that your letters came on. You recognized it as the same, because the blue lines were a little smudged— a defect from the notebook itself. “Look, here was me drafting today’s letter during free period, I rewrote it so many times before I got the version I gave you.” 

“B-But,” you stammered. “Your handwriting…”

“I wrote them with my left hand,” Eddie told you. “I knew you’d recognize my handwriting.”

You felt suffocated as you sorted through the scraps of paper from Eddie’s lunchbox, and you grabbed them and held them in a tight fist. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” you asked, tears threatening your eyes. Under any other circumstance, you would have thought it was funny, but your emotions twisted deep in your gut. You had to tell him that the feeling was mutual. “Ed, I wouldn’t have—”

“You wouldn’t have made fun of me?” Eddie supplied, tightening his arms over his chest. “The only girl I hang out with and I fall head over heels for you, how cliche is that? I-I would want you to make fun of me.”  

“No, Eddie, stop,” you said. “Stop putting words in my mouth. I wouldn’t have rejected you.” 

That stopped Eddie dead in his tracks. His fingers played with the ends of his hair, pressing them to his lips, and he finally mumbled out, “Really?” 

“Of course not, Ed,” you told him. Your chest burned with the confession, and you stepped closer to him, taking his hand back. “I really like you. Y-You’re so… Right. You’re just right for me.”

Eddie seemed shocked, taken aback, but his hand stayed in yours tightly. “Really?” he asked. “But I’m… Me.”

“And that’s why I like you,” you said. “You’re so weird and you’re so sweet and… And I’m glad it’s you. I wanted it to be you.” 

Eddie smiled for the first time, and he stepped closer to you until you could nearly hear his heartbeat. “Can I kiss you?” he asked. “I told you that’s the first thing I’d do, is kiss you.”

“Please,” you whispered, and Eddie didn’t waste any time. His hand went to the back of your neck and tugged you into his body, and he kissed you, pressing his lips sweetly to yours. Your hands floated up, and you touched your palms to his chest as you kissed him back. 

You loved the way Eddie kissed you, passionate but not hungry, sweet but not needy, his fingers touching your hair. His mouth felt so nice against yours, and you opened your mouth to deepen the kiss. Eddie tilted his head and his hands went down to your waist, tugging you fully against his body as his tongue carefully snaked into your mouth. 

You finally broke the kiss, and you couldn’t help but smile up at him, and he gave you a wide smile. “Can you keep leaving me those little notes?” you asked. “I really like them. But maybe you can sign them with your name now.” 

“Of course,” Eddie said, and he kissed you once more. “I’m glad you liked them.”

“I do,” you told him, and you placed a quick kiss on his mouth. “Um, maybe you could come by my house tonight. We could… I don’t know, hang out.” 

Eddie smiled. “Sure thing, princess. Give me one more kiss, then you gotta go. Don’t wanna leave Henderson waiting too long.”

You smiled and draped your arms over Eddie’s shoulders, and you kissed him one last time, admiring the taste of him as his tongue claimed your mouth again. He tasted like cigarettes and like the distinctive tang of skin, but it was wonderful no matter what. “Hey,” Eddie whispered when the kiss broke, and his big hand lightly captured your cheek. “You wanna be my girlfriend?” 

“Of course,” you told him. “Oh, Eddie, I’d love to.” 

“Good,” Eddie said softly, his cheeks turning red. “Good, I’m glad. Umm… I’ll see you later tonight.” 

You didn’t leave Dustin waiting for much longer, even though you could have stayed in the drama club room and kissed Eddie for hours. True to your word, you stopped at McDonalds on your way to Dustin’s house, and you sat in the car and ate with him. “What did Eddie wanna talk to you about?” Dustin asked, munching on a fry. “He seemed really intense.” 

You shrugged. “Nothing,” you said. “Just asking about an assignment for a class.”

“Eddie…” Dustin began. “Asked you… about homework?” 

“Why do you doubt me?” you asked, shoving him playfully. “What else would we be talking about?”

“I don’t know,” Dustin started, obviously having made a list. “D&D, maybe? C’mon, what were you guys really talking about? We both know that Eddie would never ask about homework.”

“Why do you wanna know so badly?” you asked. “Why isn’t it enough to just… Not know? Or care?”

“You know me, I have to care,” Dustin told you. “Spill it. What’s up?”

You sighed, looking down at the pack of chicken nuggets in your lap, and you chewed your lip. You knew that Dustin could be trusted with the truth and not to tell anyone else, and something in your chest made you giddy when you considered saying it out loud for the first time. But, did Eddie want Dustin to know? “I’ve been…” you started. “Getting some letters. Like, little love notes in my locker. Like the one I showed you, only way more than just one. Just stuff about how I’m pretty and everything, whatever, right? Eddie was with me when I got the one today, and he was just asking me about the note. Nothing major at all.” 

“Why does Eddie care about love notes?” Dustin asked. “Who are they from? Is he jealous?”

“They’re anonymous, just like the first one,” you told him. “I don’t know who’s writing them or why… Well, why, obviously they like me, but—”

“Can I see one?” Dustin asked. 

“Fuck off!” you huffed with a smile. “No, you cannot, that’s personal and private.”

“But Eddie read one.”

“Because he grabbed it from my hand,” you told him. “Eddie doesn’t care about personal and private, you know that.”

“So why did he ask to talk to you privately, if he doesn’t care about private?” Dustin asked. 

“I don’t know,” you said. Annoyance was starting to bubble in your stomach, and you rolled your eyes. “You’re asking too many questions, you’re starting to act like you’re my little brother. See if I ever bring you to McDonalds after school again.” 

Dustin didn’t seem satisfied with the way you suddenly ended the conversation, but he didn’t pry any further. The rest of the car ride was mostly silent, save for Dustin thanking you when you got him home, and he added, “If you find out who’s sending those notes, let me know, okay? I’m invested in the mystery now.” 

“Sure thing, Dusty,” you told him. “I’ll see you later.” 

The rest of the evening was slow as you waited. You had no idea when Eddie would show up or in what fashion, and you tried to distract yourself until you could see him. You finished your homework, you watched television with your parents, you did everything you could think of, and no Eddie. You knew he wasn’t the type to show up at your front door, holding flowers or something cheesy like that, but you didn’t know exactly what to expect. 

Your answer came after you went to bed, around midnight. You had given up hope of Eddie actually showing up, and your heart raced in your chest. Did he mean it? Did he mean any of it? Or was he just playing a prank, kissing you and fucking with you for fun? It didn’t seem like the type of guy that Eddie was, but your anxiety didn’t let you think any differently. 

You had already settled in bed, trying not to cry because of the whole ordeal, but a light tinkling on your window made you look up from your pillow. It wasn’t raining, you knew that much, and you slowly got out of bed and went to your window. The streetlight cast a shadow through your curtains, and your heart soared when you recognized Eddie’s frizzy curls in silhouette. 

Quickly, you threw back your curtains and were met with Eddie’s smiling face, and you wrenched open the window to get him inside. “My parents are asleep,” you told him softly. “But they’re upstairs.” 

“Good to know,” Eddie said, his smile still a mile wide, and he climbed through your window and wrenched it back closed. Finally, with a sigh, he turned to you, and he, sighing, said, “Sorry I’m late, sweetheart. I had some shit I had to deal with.” 

“It’s fine,” you told him. “You’re here now, that’s what matters.” 

“Glad to hear it,” Eddie said, and he stepped closer, into your space. “Can I please kiss you?” 

“Oh, is that what you wanna do?” you asked with a cheeky smile, and Eddie rolled his eyes playfully. 

“Well, yeah,” he said. He took your hand and pulled you into his body, and he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, making you giggle. “I didn’t sneak in your window at midnight just to shoot the shit, you know? B-But we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” 

“I know,” you assured him. “What if, umm… I-I want to do stuff with you, y’know? I just… I just want you to know…” 

“Know what, princess?” Eddie asked softly. He led you over to the bed and he sat on the edge, and you were quick to straddle his waist and lay a kiss on his mouth. He didn’t hesitate to kiss back, his tongue snaking into your mouth once more, and his hands went comfortably to your waist, his fingers digging under the waistband of your pajama pants to feel your skin. His hand was still cold from the night outside, and you shivered as his hand ghosted around to the front of your pants. “What do you wanna tell me?” 

“I-I mean, you probably figured this out,” you stammered. “I haven’t ever had a boyfriend and guys at school don’t particularly like me, but, umm…” 

“Baby,” Eddie started, his hands readjusting to sit lightly on your ass. “Are you a virgin?” 

You sighed heavily. “I’m sorry,” you said, and Eddie shook his head quickly, his eyebrows knitting together. 

“No, no, don’t be sorry,” he told you. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m not upset, baby, I promise.” 

“Do you still wanna…” you started, and Eddie started nodding before you could even finish your sentence. 

“Yes, I do,” he told you. “Very much so.” His hands remained gentle on your ass as he leaned forward and buried his face in your neck, and you couldn’t help but giggle as he kissed over a sensitive spot. “Oh, right there?” he asked as you playfully batted at his head, but then he placed his mouth over the spot and sucked hard, definitely hard enough to leave a mark. 

A gasp left your mouth at the intense feeling that washed through you, and your hands clutched hard at the shoulders of Eddie’s jackets. “Eddie,” you uttered, unable to think of anything more profound to say as you felt heat pooling between your legs. “F-Fuck, Eddie.” 

“I know, princess,” Eddie said softly. “Does that feel good? You like it?”

“Love it,” you told him, and you giggled again when he kissed the spot. 

“Oh, I knew you were sensitive,” Eddie chuckled. “Fuck, I love that. Y’know, I meant it when I wrote that you were beautiful. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” 

“Shut up,” you said, but Eddie silenced your protests by pressing his teeth into your sweet spot, drawing another gasp from your throat. 

“I won’t,” Eddie mumbled against your neck. “You’re gorgeous, princess. I’ve wanted you for so long.” 

“Have you ever…” you started, unsure how exactly to phrase the question. It burned at your chest though, and you knew that you had to expel it somehow. “Umm… I don’t know… Jerked off? To me?”

Eddie laughed, then, seeing that you were serious, cleared his throat. “I mean,” he began. “I have, yeah. Is that weird?” 

Your heart thumped inside your chest, and you swallowed thickly. You liked the answer and the thought of it, and you shook your head at him. “I don’t think it’s weird,” you told him. “I just… Wanted to know, I guess.” 

“Now you know, baby,” Eddie said. “Have you ever masturbated to me?” 

You shook your head. “I don’t really know how to do it,” you admitted, feeling foolish for your lack of knowledge. 

Eddie’s eyes softened as he cooed at you. “Aw, my sweet girl,” he whispered softly. “I can show you how.” 

“You know how?” you asked, and Eddie shrugged. 

“I know a little bit more than you do,” Eddie told you, and he tapped your temple with a ringed finger. “Silly thing. Get on your back, princess.”

You scrambled off of Eddie’s lap as your pussy did yummy little flips, and you settled yourself against your pillows as Eddie followed. He pressed his hips between your legs, settling himself right against you, and you squirmed a little at the feel of his cool belt buckle touching the inside of your thigh. Eddie swiped a quick kiss on your lips, and his fingers expertly twisted in your pajama shorts and tugged them down your legs slowly. “God, you’re gorgeous,” Eddie whispered under his breath, his eyes soaking up the sight of you. 

“Shut up,” you mumbled, pressing your hands to your face, and Eddie wrapped his long fingers around your wrists and tugged them away, pressing your wrists into the bed beside your head. 

“No, princess, I won’t,” Eddie told you. “I’ve wanted you for months, I only started the letters after Dustin told me I should—”

“Dustin?” you exclaimed. “This was his idea? He was begging me to tell him this afternoon!” 

“No, no, it was my idea,” Eddie said quickly. “He just encouraged me. But he knew; he always knew.”

“That little shit!” you laughed. “He was doing a good job of acting innocent.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” Eddie chuckled, his brown eyes flashing mischievously, and he pressed his hand to your pussy, the only thing separating you being the thin fabric of your panties. “Only you aren’t acting.” 

“Eddie, baby,” you whimpered, and Eddie put a quick, silencing kiss on your lips. 

“I know, princess,” he said, pouting. “You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” He didn’t wait for you to answer; he slipped one of his fingers inside your panties and felt down your leaking slit until his fingertip nudged your hole. Your hips bucked down into your mattress with shock, and Eddie kissed you again. 

“Pay attention,” Eddie told you. “I’m gonna teach you how to do this, okay?” You nodded quickly, and Eddie’s finger glided back up to the top of your cunt. With two fingers, he carefully spread your lips, and his middle finger expertly pressed against a sensitive spot of your flesh. You gasped at the shock of pleasure it sent into your legs, and Eddie grinned. “That’s your clit, baby, okay? Touch that, and be nice with it. Show me what a fast learner you are.” 

“How do I touch it?” you asked, and Eddie lightly circled the pad of his finger along your clit.

“Play with it,” he told you. “Circle it around, like this. Or this…” His finger started differently then, a motion almost like a light flicking towards your belly. That made your hips jut down again, and Eddie chuckled deep in his chest. “Just like that. Show me, baby, touch your clit for me.” 

Your hand shook as you lowered it down your body, and Eddie flopped himself beside you, undoing his belt as he watched you. Your finger definitely felt clumsier than Eddie’s did, a little softer than his too, but your reacted the same way as you copied the flicking motion he had done; you squirmed under your own touch, playing with your clit until you felt it throb with every pass of blood through your veins. 

“Yeah,” Eddie breathed, his eyes hungrily watching you. “Just like that, princess, I knew you were a fast learner. Keep doing that…” He trailed off, and he was quick to press his mouth to your neck, finding your sensitive little sweet spot again. The throbbing became too much to ignore as he kissed and sucked at your neck, and you finally let out a little whimper. 

“Oh, good,” Eddie whispered in your ear. “Just what I like to hear. So, you can masturabte like that, princess, or…” he paused and lightly let his fingers touch you again, this time circling your leaking hole. Then slowly, he pressed his first finger inside you, past your lips and into your pussy. You whimpered at the odd intrusion, loving every second of it, and Eddie’s kisses touched your neck again. “You can add your fingers. Fuck, you’re tight, aren’t you?” 

Shocks rocked your belly as Eddie’s finger went deeper inside you, deeper than you thought possible, until his knuckle was resting right against your hole, the bull-shaped ring pressing cooly against you. “See, isn’t that nice?” Eddie said softly. “God, you’re so soft.” 

You couldn’t help but whine his name, just a quiet mumble of “Eddie”, and he kissed your neck softly to silence you. “Rub your clit, princess,” Eddie whispered in your ear. “I can make you feel so good.”

You did as he told you, your fingers clumsily playing with the sensitive nerve again, and Eddie curled his finger inside you, pressing the soft pad of his finger into that spongy nerve inside you. A small gasp issued from your mouth, and Eddie’s kisses on your neck became deeper, adding the tips of his teeth, nipping softly at your skin. With the biting at your neck, the stimulation on your clit, and Eddie touching that spot inside you, the experience was almost overwhelming, and you turned your face away from Eddie to keep him from seeing the tears in your eyes. 

“No, no, princess,” Eddie said, and his free hand lightly touched your cheek, turning you back to him. “Baby, why’re you crying? Are you okay?” 

You sniffled and nodded. “J-Just feels good,” you stammered. “I-I’m okay.”

“Do we need to stop?” Eddie asked, his face etched in concern. 

“No!” you cried. “Don’t stop, Eddie, please don’t stop.” 

Eddie nodded, satisfied with your answer, and your chest warmed at his sentiments. He was worried about you. You loved that he had noticed that something was wrong and immediately asked after you. It was endearing, and only proved to you how much he liked you. Or, as he had said as he read the letter… “Do you love me, Ed?” you whispered. 

“Of course I do, princess,” Eddie told you, kissing your cheek. “I’m crazy for you, you’re my special girl.”

“Okay,” you whispered. “I just wanted to know.”

“Do you love me?” Eddie asked, and you looked at him to see his eyes wide and owlish, hopeful for a good answer. 

“Yeah,” you told him. “I love you, Eddie, I really do.” 

“Good, I’m glad to hear that,” Eddie laughed, seeming almost nervous, like he hadn’t expected you to say that. “Are you okay if I add another finger? Will that be too much?” 

“Please,” you told him. As good as his finger felt, you wanted more. You needed more, you needed as much as Eddie was willing to give you. “Eddie—”

He added his second finger inside you without much warning, and the stretch made you whimper in pain. It was painful exactly, but it burned, and you writhed under his grip. “I know, baby,” Eddie pouted. “It feels weird, I’m sorry. But it’ll be better soon, it’ll all feel better soon.” 

Slowly, his fingers worked to fuck you, gently sliding in and out of you as his fingertips grazed that spot inside you. All the while, you were still clumsily playing with your clit. It felt good, but you knew that Eddie could make it a hundred times better, and you whispered, “E-Eddie, oh, fuck… Touch me, Eddie, please, please…”

“Where do you want me to touch you?” Eddie asked. “Use your words, princess, where do you want me?” 

“Touch my clit,” you mewled, your back arching in time with him driving his fingers home inside you. You cried out at the pleasure that hit your belly, and you grabbed hard at your bedsheets. “Eddie!” 

“Shh, princess,” Eddie whispered, laughing lightly. “Don’t want your parents hearing you.” His free hand lightly nudged yours away, though, and his skilled fingers started in on your clit, rubbing it better than you ever could. Your pussy throbbed as he started, clenching around his fingers, and Eddie smiled. “Yes, baby, good girl,” he mumbled. “Are you close? Are you gonna cum on my fingers?” 

Your mind felt cooked, not wanting to work or form words coherently, and you could only manage to whisper, “Eddie.”

“I think that’s a yes,” Eddie chuckled. “Come on, baby, just tell me before you cum. You’re such a good girl, I can’t wait to get inside you.” 

The reminder of what was yet to come made your stomach do flips, and you moaned softly as his fingers sped up. With his speed came a new sensation, one that made your thighs and legs shake, and you whimpered out and turned your head to press your mouth to his. Eddie kissed you back instantly, kissing you hard, his tongue snaking into your mouth, and he fucked you on his fingers, the wet sounds of your pussy almost worringly loud. 

A jolt of electricity hit your body, making your toes curl, and you moaned into Eddie’s warm mouth. “Eddie,” you gasped. “You’re gonna make me cum—”

“Do it, baby,” Eddie told you. “Cum, baby, you can do it.”

He only had to fuck you once more, his thumb rubbing your clit harshly and quickly, and you covered your mouth with your hand to stifle your moan as you gushed all over his fingers. He watched you greedily, drinking up the sight of you as you shook and writhed under his touch, and he carefully pulled his fingers from inside you. Your bedroom was lit only by your bedside lamp, but you could still see your cum glistening on his fingers, and you watched as he licked at his fingers, cleaning himself up. “Good girl,” he whispered, his free hand smoothing down your hair. “You did so well, I’m proud of you. Mmm, and you taste so good too.”

“Will you fuck me?” you asked, and Eddie smiled. 

“Not tonight, princess,” he told you, and your eyebrows furrowed as you whined. “Oh, don’t start with that, baby. It’s your first time, and I want it to be special. I wanna take you on a date and do all that cheesy shit before I really take your virginity. Okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered. “I love you, Ed.”

“I love you too, princess,” Eddie said. “C’mere, I wanna hold you.” 

You squirmed closer to Eddie, and you pulled your panties back on as his arm snaked around your waist. He smelled good, like cheap cologne, and you turned and buried your face in his chest. His hand soothingly rubbed your back, lightly scratching with his dull fingernails, and you licked your lips as a question came to you. “Does Dustin really know about the letters?” you asked, and Eddie smiled.

“I never let him help write them,” Eddie said. “He doesn’t know what they say. I don’t even think he knew that I did it all the time, I think he only knew of the first one.” 

“He’s such a little shit,” you giggled. “I’m gonna kill him.” 

“Not if I do it first,” Eddie said, and he pressed a kiss to your head. 

“Maybe we can kill Dustin together?” you offered, and Eddie laughed, a genuine thing deep in his chest. 

“Whatever you want, princess,” Eddie told you. “I’d do anything for you.” 

YOU’RE A MILF AND I’M A MOTHERFUCKER- L.LAYFEYSON

Pairing:  Neighbour! Loki x Milf! Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: the crush for your hot neighbour grows at an alarming rate the more you spend time with him. once the kids go to bed and its lights out, you find out he has a crush on you too. a reallll big one. 

Warnings: SMUT, petnames, teasing, tit play, marking, possessive kink, daddy kink, dumbification kink, praise kink, idiots in love, breeding kink 0_0

Note: loki is that hot mystery boy next door except he is not a boy he is a 6′5 grown ass man who wears those white button downs everyday and rolls up the sleeves. I MADE HIM SO SWEET HERE BC CAN U IMAGINE HIM WITH KIDS OR AS A DAD?!!! SO CUTE. also this gif makes me so horny idccc! as always, enjoy babes<3

-claire bear

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Eddie Munson + Details

"We kind of stitched [Eddie's vest] so it would look like he did it himself ... We added a belt buckle that has a handcuff on it ... We gave him a chain on the leather of his jacket, like maybe the zipper broke, and he tried to close it. So we really focused on little details."