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honestsycrets · 1 year

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starved | [miguel o'hara x reader]

❛ pairing | new papi!miguel x new mami!reader

❛ type | oneshot: explicit content

❛ summary | peter says he's sex-starved. he isn't. he's just... adjusting to less time with his wife.

❛ tags | breastfeeding miguel, lactation kink, slight pregnancy kink, touch starved, pissy miguel, spanish is not translated, mention of violence, some cursing, f!reader.

❛ sy’s notes | written as per poll request! thank you everyone who voted.

Miguel likes to work.

Or, he thinks he likes to work.

The fate of the multiverse and all that boring ass bullshit. Peter has heard it all, twice, thrice over. What he knows is what he sees. What he sees is an overworked man running through anomaly files, sending out orders, and not spending time where it really mattered.

“Is that who I think it is?” Peter’s annoying ass house slippers flapped over the ground by Miguel’s feet. Peter’s hands rubbed together, sparking little bursts of heat between his palms. “It is! Mireya!”

Mireya, the newest addition to his small family. She was nestled comfortably in the crook of one of Miguel’s muscular arms as if it were the safest place in the entire world, suckling on what was left of a bottle of breastmilk. Miguel turned to place the empty bottle down on his desk. Peter followed, peeping over Miguel’s arm at her. Despite Miguel’s reservations, her bright brown eyes bored Peter with interest. She cooed at him. “Can I hold her? Let me hold her, it’ll be great! Aw look, she has curls.”

“My daughter isn’t your doll.”

“Look how pretty, she’s just like her mami. All sunshine and dimples and--,” Peter reached forward, easing his scrawny hands under her plush little arms and picking her up. Miguel’s hands fell onto his hips, shifting weight from one foot to the other, glancing down at his feet expectantly. “You know, for a new dad, you’re grumpier than usual.”

“Peter.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he bobbed back and forth, spinning in a circle. She giggled the kind of laugh that was all sugar, making Peter grin even harder. “I mean, wasn’t Mireya your idea? Are you-- y’know?”

“Y’know?”

“Sex starved,” Peter whispered like it was a great, terrible secret. As if in this vast space of silence, someone might catch his words and convict him because of them. Miguel’s half-lidded eyes slid against one another, held for a second, then spread open in an annoyed flick. He fluttered his gloved fingers at Peter to hand Mireya over.

“I’m just saying if you need a night alo--”

“I don’t. I’m not sex-starved.”

He waved him off. His eyes fell on his daughter, boring back up at him with those beautiful eyes he had waited so long to see. He shifted his weight from one leg to another, lulling her back into her late-night slumber, cradled against his chest.

Sex starved, he said. What a shocking joke.

His room was no place for a child. It was perpetually dark, dimmed for his sensitive eyes. So, at the end of the day, Miguel had your room to return to. A real home, one with more than a ratty run-down chair and a lifetime of regrets. A home that he couldn't make alone. Miguel pressed past the bedroom door where he found you overcome by sleep. Just like Mireya in his arms.

He turned his gaze down to Mireya once more, her soft and squishy body a vision of peace. Tiny fists balled up over her belly as she slept in her soft velvet onesie. The whole world in his hands: the start of a happy little family. Only right now, it didn’t feel so happy. Those were the cycles, the push and pull of life.

Tonight would prove to be another silent night with his thoughts. His chest swelled with a rush of air, bunching up his shoulders as he moved to the adjoining room to set Mireya into her warm crib. Torn from his warmth, her palms stretched out, ready to wail. Miguel placed his hand along the wooden rail, his stomach flopping into throbbing anxiety in his stomach. She could wake you up. "Shh," he set his finger in her tiny palm. Mireya’s small hands rested listlessly around her head. The wail never came.

“Mi vida,” your sleepy voice fell over his ears, a gentle caress. He longed to hear it from your lips again. “Is she already asleep?”

“Sí--” he glanced over his shoulder, catching just a sight of one of his favourite little slips. Dusty rose with delicate lace details. He studied the edge of the gown, flowing over your thick thighs as you walked. Shock.

“You look beautiful." You looked down at your soft belly, a mincing smile pulling at your lips. He knew you were nervous, the way your hands obscured your plush belly. Mesmerized, his finger fell away from Mireya's soft grip. Peter's words echoed in his mind, a deep annoyance. It made his skin crawl, this growing annoyance in the acknowledgment that he had no sex in weeks, months. He took a step forward.

“I hope she doesn’t sleep through the night. My breasts are full,” Your fingers skimmed the taut skin. The glint of your wedding band invited him forward as if… you should be his tonight. You were his wife-- and though he didn't expect you to give him relief, he missed you. Miguel dipped his head, stroking the sore muscles of his neck.

Are you, y'know, sex-starved?

“When does she ever..." he couldn't help from saying. He grazed his fingertips over the swollen skin of your breasts, glancing from the skin to your deep, shy eyes. His breath thinned, realizing that you were disengaging, too scared to look him in the eye.

“She does, Miggy,” you breathed. His jaw worked, annoyed. “Lately. You’d know if you came home at night.”

If it was lately, he had no knowledge of it. Every lab screen he pulled up, every status report from Lyla, and every silent night in the lab, obsessing over how his little girl was doing-- he missed it. He should be coming in more often, crossing the threshold of work to family life. His hand cupped the underside of your breast. You winced, embarrassment working on your face. You pushed his hand away, likely feeling exposed by his touch on your tender skin.

“Does it hurt?” He leaned down, mingling his smoky, musky scent with your delicate one. He leaned in to place a soft, open-mouthed kiss along your neck, the warm pulse of your skin against his plump lips.

“Miggy, you’ll wake her up.”

Your fingers laced in his before you pulled him out of the room with a click of the door. He settled his hand on the middle of the door, sliding his hand up your waist, the soft fabric crinkling over the movement. He glimpsed a look at your soft panties cupping your round ass. “Miggy, I… I can’t. I’m tired.”

Of course, you were tired-- He underestimated how much work you took on in her care. He willed the wisps of his desire to snuff out. The distant flicker of hope followed promptly after. Maybe, one day, you would want him again. It wasn't today.

“Ya veo,” he suppressed his frustrated growl, wrinkling his forehead. “Another time.”

It wasn't the next day. Or the one after that. Or the one after that.

The anomaly whirled along a cobblestone street, exploding in a cloud of dust and stone. Its many black dipped hands flickered, dulling into little more than a negligible tremor of their limbs. Everyone else noticed the complacency that came with loss of consciousness. Miguel did not.

Miguel sauntered forward, dragged it by its muddy boots out from the crumbly remnants of the wall, and whirled it into another. It wasn't moving. It was done, tired, exhausted. He didn't care, his large hand encompassing its tendril hair and smashing it over the dusty floor. A violent crack, crack, crack of its head scratched his inert need to destroy something, anything, anyone. It fell from his hands with a slump. Miguel spat a bit of blood to the side, his cheek chewed raw under the tension of the moment.

“You need to take Peter up on that offer.”

Miguel stretched his neck one way. Then the other.

“We’ve been over this,” Miguel grumbled, hiking the pummeled body over his shoulder. It gushed blood, streaming into a diluted pink with the downpour of rain. A simple contusion, Miguel said. It was just a contusion. And a concussion. Maybe a gash or two. It would heal if the thing woke up. “I don’t need help.”

“You thrashed it, whatever it was,” Jess said pointedly. Miguel’s finger ran across his watch. The air was stale without an acknowledgment of Miguel’s churning temper, growing into a churning tempest by the passing minute. He stared long and hard through his mask. She drew out the silence as she waited for his response.

“It’s a contusion.”

The portal whirled to life before them in a slurry of vivid color, an unforgiving abyss. Jess slumped her bike with weight on one thigh, hand on her belly. The longer Miguel stared at her, so full and pregnant, the more he was reminded of you. He pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no use-- he saw visages of you everywhere he looked.

“Doesn’t look like any head contusion I’ve seen,” Gwen slid into the portal. His lip curled, annoyed by the obvious objection to what he was saying. If they would let it go-- he could go on about his life, wait for this obsession with his sex life to abate. Wait for you to come back to him.

“You can’t keep taking out your—“

“I am not sex-starved!”

“Convincing.” Jess sped into the portal.

Miguel soothed the stress out of his forehead, opening and closing his palm, a current of energy coursing through his palms. They picked— and they picked— and they picked at him. At some point, he was bound to explode. He only hoped you wouldn't be in his way when it happened. He whipped the anomaly through the portal and followed after.

On the other side of the portal, there was Peter— again. Cooing with his hands on his daughter— again. His dark mask faded away, his suit wicking water off his frame. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he located you beside Jess and Gwen. You nudged its crumpled body with your shoe. He didn’t often feel ashamed of his actions. Usually, they were necessary. Something was wrong, your face pinched and curled in disgust. He felt the string of your disapproval pulling through his arms, a slight, incriminating tremor flickering through his finger. He willed it away.

“What did you do to this poor thing?” you turned to Jess, a click-click-click off your tongue. He’d hardly call it poor. “It’s overkill.”

“Girl, ask your husband,” Jess folded her arms, reclining on her bike.

“Mi Miggy?” you went to him. You leaned over, pecking his cheek with a terribly insulting kiss, tickling his jawline. He swallowed. Blinked. Then frowned and brushed off your fingers, finding the care misplaced. You could care for an anomaly but didn't care to ask him how he felt. What he needed. Your voice wilted that sunshine quality, dropping almost to a whisper. “¿Qué te pasa, Miggy?”

“Nothing.”

“Miguel--"

“I said nothing!” He knelt down, grasping its ankle and dragging it down the long, drab hall that stored a variety of anomalies. A line of blood soaked the floor, swerving after his rumbling steps. You took a step forward, snatching his wrist between your fingers. He whirled around, a tremble on his lips firmed out into an unforgiving glare. You let up the pressure on his wrist, allowing him to spin his hand free. “Déjame en paz! There is nothing shocking wrong!”

Mireya cried. So did you.

The admittance that Peter was right wasn’t one that Miguel was about to make openly.

Although he showed up that night, as you informally requested, the night proceeded awkwardly. There was no talk over dinner, not as he watched you feed his little girl, swaying by the window of the enormous city below. As you gazed into the sea of twinkling lights, Miguel came up behind you. His palms encompassed your slight shoulders, moist against your exposed shoulders. His naked chest grazed your back.

"Are you going to apologize?"

Why should he have to? If anyone listened to what he was saying-- he wouldn't be in this mess. Still, Miguel steeled his face. He placed a mincing kiss on the top of your head. His voice thinned out, barely a feather on his lips.

"I snapped."

"You did a lot more than that. You scared her."

You let him sit with his regret until you fell asleep. He debated returning to the lab or his room to try again tomorrow. But he knew his wife. You were attentive to everything that he did. You might take it as a sign of his disinterest. After minutes turned to hours, he breached the door and slid into your bed when he was sure you were asleep.

When his eyes coursed over your figure, he realized all he missed. It was too long since he felt the warmth of a real kiss. Not the brief pecks on his lips as he rushed out the door to help Jess or Gwen or any other number of spiders demanding his attention. He missed the warmth in your eyes, the way they turn into crescents with a happy smile or jaunty laugh. He longed for that sensation of your fingers combing through his hair, taking your time and curling his fluffy hair behind his ear, eyes trained on his alone in a sea of spiders. That… sensation of being the only one that you wanted.

Mireya was that for you now. He longed for it every time he came into the room, seeing you sway with his child in your arms, cradled against your breast, feeding her into a restful sleep. What he thought was a mere seed of jealousy turned out to be a terrible beast, tendrils of resentment that you can’t see what he needs. He needs you. And it isn’t his beautiful Mireya’s fault, no. It’s his.

Instead, he lay there with his palm wretched around his cock, soaked in the artificial lubricant, throbbing into his hand. He remembered his words that night. A begrudging -- Mami, give me a baby-- and how well you took him. Your body seemed to know what he wanted, swelling with his child after a few weeks. He buckled into his palm, cranking around the base and swirling up to his leaking tip, bubbling with his need. He circled his finger over the head, swiping the fluid away.

“What are you thinking about?”

Miguel paused, sweat crept down his thick throat over his broad chest. He shuddered under the weight of your silken words. His hand coiled around his cock in one more jerk, somehow accepting that he had been caught.

“Are you thinking about me? Or is there someone else?”

"Someone else?" he breathed. His lips dropped into a frown, agitation simmering to a boil. It cooled when you looked at him-- but really looked at him. The bed shifted under your weight, ruffling pillows aside. You hoisted your legs over his body, pushing his cock against your soft vulva and his stomach, breasts pushing into his face. So close that Miguel inhaled the uniquely sweet smell of your milk obscured by thin lace.

“Why would I have anyone else?” he asked, his chest distantly aching. His gaze tracked from one breast to the other. He stole a glimpse at your face, stricken with shyness. The slight pout of your lips, eyes refusing contact. “Do you even want me?”

Undoubtedly yes.

“You don’t come to see me. You don't fuck me. You don't even--"

"You're always tired."

"But you could wake me.”

“Could I? To deny me again?” It hadn’t meant to come out so passive-aggressive, but with the natural inflections in his voice, he knew you could read him like a book.

“Oh, papi," not that soft voice. He might hope again. "I always want you.“

Hmpf. Debatable.

“Even when you’re jerking off in my bed. Or couch.” You slid your pink tongue along your lower lip, guiding your body against his. The wet draw of your juices over his dick drew his sharp scarlet eyes to the sight, knocking your stiff clit with his dick. For a moment, his words failed. He should have known you would watch him.

“Is that why you're so... angry? Because of me?" He made a small noise, barely a huff. You drew his hands to your full breasts, obscured by a thin layer of fabric. This time, he smothered a groan in his chest. How pathetic, he thought, to be moaning from something as simple as your firm breasts back in his hands. What was he-- twelve? "Have I been neglecting you, Miguel O’Hara?”

“Yes-- you've neglected me,” he murmured, dragging the lace underneath each breast, knocked together by the straps of the fabric. He melded your breasts again between his hands, massaging the sore skin. His thumps flickered over your nipples, stiffening them into peaks. With a small pinch to your breasts, milk dribbled over his fingertips.

"I won't do it again," he wondered if you missed his touch by the full, grateful hum of your lips, your palms disappearing into his dark hair. You coursed along his dick again, eliciting another piteous noise of longing from his throat. "I promise."

“Hm," was the only agreement. "What a mess,” he teased, not bothering to look at you. It had the desired effect, your shoulders shyly bunching up, the cute pout of your lips, warmth in your cheeks, quivering eyes. He loved it when you looked so fucking shy, so vulnerable, and all for him. "You're leaking all over my hand."

“I’m-- sorry,” you flushed, “It… happens.”

“Mhm, you're full,” Miguel flicked his pink tongue along your stiff, fat nipple, drawing it into his mouth with a suckle. Sweet milk soothed his tongue. He hungrily drank it up, shifting his other hand back to angle his cock at the entrance of your core. A hand left his thick locks and jerked to his broad shoulder, stabilizing your hips down to sink onto him. Blood welled to the surface with your claws scratching piteously along his sunkissed skin. With a bit of resistance, he slid perfectly into your body, just like he always did. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips against your breast. It was somehow different-- the tug and stretch of his cock-- as he fucked the mother of his child. Maybe it was all in his head. “Shock, you’re gorgeous on my dick.”

“Miggy--”

He shifted to the other breast, his hands nearly stapled on your hips, encouraging you to do the work. Your warm milk slid into his mouth, down his starved throat. The pleasure of knowing he was draining you of your milk was tempered with the ever-present fact that soon, you’d have his spunk in your belly again. Your hips flushed, drawing around in quick circles, flushed with his pelvis. Small waves of pleasure grew in your belly. Your stiff clit glided against his skin, again, and again with the undulations of his hips. You felt pinned between his mouth and dick, restricted in movement, but all his, devoured by his need.

“Come here, mi hermosura,” Miguel released your breast from those lush lips, sliding his tongue along his lips to catch the remnants of your sweet milk. He slid down along the pillows, flushing your chest to his, and propped his legs slightly for a better angle. His muscular arms wound around your back, cock pumping into you with renewed vigor. He knocked against your cervix in this position, holding you fast and tight in his arms. You nestled against his sweaty chest, accepting his thrusts so well.

“Miggy-- I’m not-- on anything.”

“You're breastfeeding, close enough,” he mused in your ear as though it were a joke.

You might have argued with him if you weren’t so blinded by that fantastic juddering of his hips. As it were, pleasure rocked all thoughts of birth control out of your mind. Miggy, an ever-present lover, groaned as he held out through your orgasm milking and soaking his swollen dick in your cum. Not a moment later, Miguel forced a long stroke of his dick inside your cunt, reaching his climax buried deep in your tremoring walls. You squeezed him tight, milking him dry of his orgasm until it all faded into fuzzy pleasure. You sighed as his arms loosened, warm and full of Miguel after so long. His soft dick slipped free, cum oozing onto his thighs, but he couldn’t be bothered to deal with the mess.

He set a kiss on the top of your head, then your forehead, and eventually snatched your lips in a warm kiss. You could taste the sweetness of your milk on his tongue and flushed. Your head dropped down on his chest, listening for the gentle whining of your daughter. It was silent but for the intermingling of your heaving breaths.

After all the issues: the disappointment, the fighting with Peter and Jess, Miguel couldn’t help but chuckle. All it took was jerking off in your bed. He should have known-- you never did like to be left out on his fun. You were always a jealous lover, even at the threat of his own hand.

“Hm? Why are you laughing?”

“Peter said I was sex-starved."

“Well," you glistened a smile, kissing along his jaw. He huffed. "He wasn't wrong."

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adrienneleclerc · 4 months

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Heyy can you write a onsehot of charles being really really really clingy to the reader ,like wanting cuddels kisses

YES!!!!! I don’t think I ever wrote Charles in a clingy way so it’ll be fun to try!

Attached at The Hip

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina reader

Summary: Charles has a break between races and decides to spend it with his girlfriend. However, his girlfriend is not paying attention to him.

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: sorry it’s been a while since I have posted anything, I went to California as my graduation gift. Thank you for your request! I am so happy you like my writing enough to request a oneshot! If I haven’t gotten to your request yet, I AM WORKING ON IT, te lo juro por las haditas.

Charles had a 3 week break between races and what better way to spend this break than with his lovely girlfriend? When Charles came back Tuesday afternoon, he cuddled with his girlfriend, they watched a movie together, he gave her many kisses because he missed her so much. However, Wednesday morning Charles woke up without Y/N by his side and with the smell of baked goods. Charles walked into the kitchen and saw Y/N with her cupcake apron, frosting one batch of cupcakes, pulling another batch out of the oven, and putting another batch in the oven.

“Mon ange, it’s 7 am, what are you doing baking?” Charles asked.

“I received an order for cupcakes, muñeco. It’s a birthday party so I’m making cupcakes for the children and for the adults. I made margarita cupcakes for the adults and s’mores cupcakes for the children. I obviously wanted the cupcakes to be fresh, the party starts at 1, that also gives me time to deliver these.” Y/N said, showing Charles the tray of macarons that were made yesterday before he came over. “I spent the entire morning frosting them. If you can take the cupcakes out of the oven when the timer rings, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“I thought we were going to spend the day together.” Charles pouted, getting closer to hug Y/N but she walked away from his hug.

“Muñeco, i would love to cuddle you, but I have to deliver these to the café before they open.” Y/N packed the macarons in boxes very carefully and left the apartment, leaving a very sad Charles. When the timer dinged, he took out the cupcakes using Y/N’s oven mitts and placed them on top of the stove, turning off the oven. Y/N got back with bags of groceries for her apartment and her business.

“Ma Belle, are you still going to bake?” Charles asked.

“Charles, i supply macarons everyday for a café plus personal orders. I’m a busy girl, muñeco.” Y/N responded, Charles hugged her from behind.

“Can’t you take a break, please.” Charles whispered in her ear, kissing her neck as well.

“Muñeco…” Y/N whines

“I haven’t gotten any attention today.” Charles whined

“Let me frost the cupcakes and I’ll give you all the attention you want. Until 12 that is, then I’ll have to deliver these cupcakes.” Y/N said.

“I’ll take it.” Charles pulled away from Y/N, kissing her and letting her do a baker’s job. As soon as she finished frosting the cupcakes, she laid down with Charles and he was very happy with her in his arms. They watched the Spanish TV show “Ni Una Más” with English subtitles for Charles when Y/N’s phone rings, it was the mom who was throwing the birthday party.

“Hello, yes the cupcakes are ready, I’ll be over there in a few. S’mores cupcakes for the kids and margarita cupcakes for you guys, alright, bye.” Y/N hung up the phone. “Muñeco, I gotta go.” Y/N tried to get up but Charles held her tighter.

“No, please stay.” Charles begged against her neck.

“Muñeco, this is how I make my rent, I have to drop off the cupcakes.” Y/N said, getting up successfully and putting the cupcakes in their respective containers. Charles got up as well.

“At least let me drive you.” Charles said.

“Nope, you’re staying here like a good boy, okay.” Y/N said, opening the apartment door with cupcake boxes in hand. “Stay…good boy.” Y/N left the apartment, leaving Charles again.

After Y/N was paid 200 euros for the cupcakes since they are flavors that not everyone else makes, she went back to her apartment and found Charles on the couch.

“Finally, you’re home! Let’s spend some time together, yes? We should go out on the yacht.” Charles said, “or we could stay in bed,” Charles hugged Y/N from behind.

“You’re so clingy. But you’re adorable, let’s go.” Y/N said. Charles silently cheers and grabs Y/N’s hand to lead her into her bedroom so they could watch TV and rot in bed together.

The End

I hope you like it, I don’t know how to write “clingy” because I have a fearful avoidant attachment style so I don’t know what “clingy” typically looks like but I hope it’s acceptable

#hispanic reader #latina #hispanic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #f1 fanfic #attached at the hip

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caitlinbueckers · 5 months

Note

ok Ik you said Pazzi fic in studio but will never get the idea of Paige calling azzi mamas out of my head so just felt like I needed to share an idea for a blurb or to include in anything you write PAIGE CALLINF AZZI MAMAS

anon ur a genius but i am simply a fool who took this prompt and then ran with it and turned it into a random oneshot soooooo i apologize for the minimal use of ‘mamas’ but hope u like it anyway and will implement that in all my writing deadass

pet names.

paige bueckers/azzi fudd.

2.8K.

kinda bullshit rambling but a lil more of a structure to follow???

minimal nsfw so 18+ as fuck

Wait guys let me know how u rly feel bcuz im not suuuper happy w this one

at first, it’s a subtle change.

it’s not like paige is ever actually serious enough for her words to be taken to heart or with any ounce of meaning behind it— she’s a fucking idiot, and azzi was more than well aware of her incessant antics, and the fact that she just played too much.

so, of course it surprises her, but she can’t say it really means anything, until it does.

it’s funny to azzi, really, when recently, all of a sudden, paige will get caught up in her usual tangents that she’s started letting these random, little pet names slip from her lips, mouth moving so fast, almost as if she barely meant it, could barely even call it out herself.

it happens usually when they’re tired— or, at least when azzi’s tired, and paige is excited. sweat clinging to the back of azzi’s neck, her curls drawing up and away from the edges of her hairline, skin flushed and hot to the touch when paige is suddenly breezing past her. she’s somehow still in a jog despite the rigorous drills they’d done, oblivious to the redness of her face or the plastered strands of blonde hair against her forehead. she’s at the tail end of a conversation with KK, still grinning like a fool about whatever they must’ve been chattering about, yelling out some type of phrase or joke that only those two could conjur up.

azzi’s right eyebrow is already lifted, somehow already suspicious and unimpressed of her intentions when paige is launching straight into a new conversation, cheeks still pink and teeth on display as she skips backwards to keep her eyes on azzi.

“i think me an’ KK are ‘finna go play 2K when we get back to the dorms— i told her ass she doesn’t stand like, a single chance when I’ve been on my grind, and she don’t believe me, like, baby, you know i’ve been on that shit,” she clicks her tongue, rolls her eyes before she’s smacking azzi’s arm, giving her a sneaky grin, one that signaled whatever she was offering was really gonna be a delight, (it never was), “you should come chill. you don’t gotta play if you don’t want, you can always be my lil’ cheerleader.”

it wasn’t like her high energy, rapid movement behavior was anything unusual, but that little, barely missable word was.

baby. it rolls off her tongue like it’s been waiting around the whole time, lingering beneath the surface, waiting for the moment to strike. she says it with an ease of comfort she can’t necessarily place, and azzi doesn’t necessarily hate it, but it’s there, nonetheless.

it momentarily stunts her, but azzi still finds herself smiling— not from any type of fluster or flush miraculously, but one that she usually gives paige when she’s amused by her, eyes wide and exaggerated as she huffs out a chuckle. “that sounds… boring, honestly.” but, she’s laughing at the gape on paige’s face anywa, “i need to shower, dude, i don’t wanna watch video games.” she scoffs, before she grins at her, only because she knows it’ll piss paige off.

and it does, so, of course the walk out to the parking lot is filled with a whole lot of, ‘oh my god, bro, you’re so lame.’ or, ‘like, azzi, you can have a turn ‘forreal, like just come over for like, deadass a second.’

ultimately, and unsurprisingly enough, paige ends up getting her way. though, she’ll swear it’s only because azzi takes her shower, does some homework and is in the middle of taking out her braids when the word hits her again, and again, and again.

babybabybaby.

she can’t really blame the way she rolls her eyes despite herself. her and paige had been close for fucking ever, so there wasn’t necessarily much between them that was off limits, but it still resonated within her as something azzi couldn’t just brush off. whether that was more damaging than pretending it never happened, she didn’t have a single clue.

all she did know, was that paige bueckers got her way entirely way too much. so much so, that azzi has to let out an audible groan reserved only for paige, before she texts that she’s on her way over.

and yeah, whatever, maybe it wouldn’t matter so much if it was just a one-off, or if maybe their friendship wasn’t so fucking complicated in the first place.

but then, it does matter, because it doesn’t stop happening.

when paige is frustrated at her homework, sitting plainly with her legs at full extension in the study room with aaliyah, ice, and azzi, it leaves her lips in a huff of exasperation, “azzi, babe, this shit really makes no sense, swear.” even if she’s saying it in the voice that clearly states she hasn’t attempted it for nearly long enough to proclaim she doesn’t get it, “az, can you please just come check it out.” azzi can’t tell what’s worse; the fact that paige had said it, or the fact that nobody had even looked surprised that she did.

or when they’d gotten dressed for media day, everyone milling about as they try not to wrinkle their uniforms or crease their concealer, it’s paige (and eventually nika and aaliyah) that whoops and hollers during azzi’s solo pictures, something like, “yeaaaah princess! nation’s best, babyyyyy! work that shit!” followed by a series of whistles that sounded so off pitch it makes azzi snort, rolling her eyes as she purposely avoids the gaze that paige so obviously wants to capture, teetering at the edges of azzi’s peripheral with a grin so wide it threatens to make her blush.

and, she swears she doesn’t, and instead turns back to the photographer with cheeks only a touch pinker than they were previously, “sorry— can we do that again?”

really, the only time she’d ever allowed herself to actually enjoy it, was on the last night at the hotel after a game. it couldn’t have been later than two or three in the morning, paige and azzi having spent the majority of it whispering beneath the covers, anything to not wake up the two other girls asleep in the other double bed.

it’s not too bad, having to share beds— except that, paige is a chronic cuddler and azzi would rather sleep on the shitty futon than be subjected to paige’s unrelenting weight against her back, or her arms slung lazily over her, but it was because of that precise position that azzi could even hear the words when she says it.

“mmmh-,“ she hums tiredly first, speaking mostly out of her ass, like paige always did when got too tired and let herself start rambling “night, pretty girl.”

it’s soft, and sort of raspy— the way paige gets when she’s been screaming all night on the court, and azzi can really only tell by the amount of ibuprofen that she’d downed before bed being somewhat more than her usual, that she’s probably got a headache. it’s a voice she uses when she’s being sincere.

the quiet sentiment, however insignificant to anyone else, replays in her mind. almost like a secret. almost like the closer she keeps it to her chest, the harder it’ll be to lose it.

it makes her whole body warm all over.

her response comes a few beats later, when she’s sure paige has drifted, and nothing but her measured breath is puffing against azzi’s neck, heard only between the two of them.

“night, p.”

but then, suddenly, everything sort of changes. azzi doesn’t know when this part happened— maybe it’s between the time she kisses her at that bar, tipsy and too close, unaware of the camera that set the internet aflame, and now, where it was customary that paige did homework with her, or ate dinner with her or slept over all the time. perhaps, it’s one selective moment in the chaos between that had suddenly transformed paige’s subtle casualty of the pet names, to something more intimate. more for them, rather for anyone else.

or, maybe it was exactly where they knew they’d end up all along.

it’s after a night out, after neither of them had ever really questioned how this had became their routine. that now, it had become something unspoken, an inherent rule that was followed without it needing to be stated. that, when they got too fucked up with the team, and the ubers were being ordered, azzi and paige always went together, that the address would always end up being paige’s dorm, and that azzi would always be curling into purple sheets by the time she sobers up enough to sleep.

but, she’s not sober. she’s drunk, and her face is flushed hot, sticky with the bar atmosphere. “paige, you’re making me too hot.” azzi complains with an impatient lilt to her voice, lifting her right shoulder up to her neck as if to shrug paige off, but the girl is relentless, humming her denial as she slid a hand across azzi’s thigh, grasping it hard enough that her nails dug into the skin there.

“psh, you’re already hot, shut up.” the words are spoken clumsily, lips brushing against the bare skin of azzi’s shoulder with each word, while a sudden surge of annoyance and somehow gratitude courses through azzi for having worn a sleeveless top, “c’mere, mamas, ‘lemme lay on you.”

she’s being whiny, and it only makes azzi roll her eyes before her gaze flickers to the screen of the car, giving her another light elbow prod, only this time, a short, sneaking smile is crossing her face. “paige, ‘forreal, we’re about to be back anyway.”

this, somehow, only fuels her. “i’m wounded,” she complains, before she’s pressing a little smack of a kiss to azzi’s neck, “my girl’s so mean to me, shit.”

my girl.

what the fuck ever.

azzi should’ve demanded an explanation then, but she doesn’t.

in fact, there’s not an explanation waiting for them when they stumble into paige’s room, their hands in a tight grasp, pulling each other in so that they can both fall against the bed, and azzi really shouldn’t have been expecting one. it’s definitely not explained when they’re somehow under the blankets, and paige has an arm, long and lean, wrapped around azzi’s waist to end somewhere between her legs, fingers finding a rhythm that seems to pull the very air from azzi’s lungs.

it’s not what azzi was expecting to happen, and yet somehow they’d fallen into place like it something they’d done a million times. paige had undressed her, after azzi’s complaint of still feeling too hot, and paige— not even a singular bit sober— finds her hands along the bottom of azzi’s top, tugging it over her head before she tosses her an old basketball camp shirt that had been slung across her dresser.

“you gonna sleep in jeans?” is really what had started it, paige’s pointed tone making azzi’s face burn hot, but the smirk on her face never faltered. “you’re so annoying.”

because then, paige has her fingers hooking into azzi’s waistband, eliciting a string of giggles that escape because fuck, she’s ticklish and paige knows. “what? what am i doing?” the blonde is grinning too, snickering under her breath as azzi’s pants are yanked down her hips, kicked from her feet with minimal effort until azzi feels it. a featherlight kiss was placed to each of her scarred knees, the inside of her thigh, eyes flickering up to azzi’s hazy but steady gaze, “this okay?”

god, azzi hadn’t realized until just then how fucking okay it was.

it’s quiet, sensual even, the way that paige talks her through it— heel of her hand dragging endlessly against her swollen clit, fingers thick as they arched into her, teeth grazing the back of azzi’s shoulder with each word of encouragement.

“c’mon, mamas, jus’ like that.” had anyone known better, they’d think paige must’ve been getting off just to this, by the way her own voice hitched and caught, her own hard swallows that reverberated in azzi’s ear, each laced with little gasps as she plunged into her wetness.

but, azzi did know better— paige was absolutely getting off to it. her voice is all breath, crackling and barely audible, murmuring incoherent mumbles that make it almost incomprehensible to decipher, yet, azzi swears she can understand.

it’s in her ear, over and over, that heat and pressure between her legs building as her hips twitched involuntarily against her knuckles, feels the way they slide deeper within her and azzi lets out a noise that even she’s too embarrassed to recount. “fuck, i wanna hear that shit, need to hear you baby, please.”

it coaxes the orgasm straight from azzi’s core, thighs involuntarily squeezing around paige’s hands, to which the blonde is silent in muted awe. she watches with bleary eyes but bated breath, sitting up only a bit to really witness it. the way azzi’s face drew up, eyebrows furrowed and lips parting, the whimper edged breaths that huffed out of her, the tight clamping of her eyes shut.

“so fucking pretty,” each word is punctuated in a kiss, “so good.”

really, it should’ve been a lot worse for them the next morning. azzi can’t help the wave of a ground shaking realization she gets when she rolls over to inspect paige’s sleeping expression, lips slightly parted, her blonde hair mussed on the pillow behind her. there should’ve been some type of lingering awkwardness that hung above them, some type of trepidation or fear, maybe even regret.

it definitely wasn’t like they talked about it, but they’d also never quite gone this far. did they need to? probably, because azzi knew that the guilt would probably hit sooner or later.

in fact, azzi waits for it to hit, all the way until paige wakes up, and her eyes are a little puffy, watery blue and clear as she blinks up blearily at azzi like she’s the finest thing she’s ever laid eyes on (because she is), and whispers with a grin, “distracted by my beauty?”

she waits even until the next away game, when her legs are propped up over paige’s lap and her fingers are drumming absently against azzi’s thigh, humming something in her headphones with her eyes shut, looking like a complete idiot, before their eyes meet by chance when paige opens them, and suddenly, they’re both grinning.

she even waits for it to hit when the buzzer goes off after the fourth quarter of that game, an easy win, and confetti is thrown. it’s chaos really, with all the girls rushing through the tunnel to get back to the lockers. that is, until, paige pulls her aside for half a second, hidden away from the hungry eyes to press a solid, sweet kiss to her lips.

but it doesn’t end there. azzi waits for it during her injury, when enough nights in linoleum covered white floors with the constant smell of antiseptic start to pierce the inside of azzi’s brain, ruins her attitude enough that paige’s texts go unanswered. and yet, everytime azzi wakes up, the pain in her leg flared and angry, it’s paige that’s sat in the corner of the room, huddled under a shitty hospital blanket, waiting for her to wake up.

it went even as far as the loss against IOWA when the roles are reversed— after the excitement of final four had became real, after the grueling, rampant preparation, and then ultimately, a loss. it’s when azzi gets permission to stick around in paige’s hotel room until she gets back from the game, and the way that the blonde, finally in the safety of the four walls, found herself crumbling to azzi, becoming nothing but a shell of what everyone perceives her to be, everything paige wishes she fucking wasn’t.

it’s only then, that azzi finds herself returning the favor— arms wrapped tight around paige’s waist with a burning, sting in her own eyes that she can feel the moment she sighs against the crown of paige’s head. she can smell the sweat, the smell of a basketball court that had just gotten waxed, but really, azzi just smells paige, and that’s enough to give her the composure she needs to whisper against her head, “don’t be so hard on yourself, baby… you guys did so good.”

and they don’t talk about it, because they don’t need to. the same way they never had to ask the other when it came to the hospital or bus rides or homework dates or hotel rooms— it was unspoken, implied but never mentioned. the same way back when they’d met at USA camp, it was never a matter of conversation for their plays to work, it was all in the matter of a look, or a slight of hand.

and when the team starts asking, giving paige shit about how she’s missing video game nights with KK or azzi’s getting shit about caroline missing her study partner, everybody already knows. when paige tells nika, voice only a little timid as she gives her a condensed version of the last few months like it was a ground shaking news, head tilted to lean on the older girls shoulder, the brunette bursts into laughter. ‘finally, took you guys long enough.’

and really, it was a wonder they hadn’t been like this the whole time.

a wonder that it had taken this long in the first place.

#paige bueckers #pazzi #azzi fudd #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x azzi fudd #writing asf #anon asf

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hauntedhowlett-writes · 3 months

Text

𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

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PAIRING: JOEL MILLER X FEMALE READER

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+ MDNI) | WORD COUNT: 2.1k

SUMMARY

Joel wants to go camping for his fiftieth birthday. He makes it worth your while. Part of the Cruel Summer series, but can be read as a oneshot.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

This is my (late) entry for the Summer Lovin' Challenge hosted by @chaotic-mystery , @pedgito , and @amanitacowboy. This prompt had me spiraling with like five different drafts but in the end, it actually got me thinking of Cruel Summer, which is one of the first fics I wrote for this fandom and holds a very special place in my heart. If you've read that fic, I hope you enjoy this little glimpse into their lives. Please consider leaving a comment or reblogging 💕

WARNINGS

explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), established relationship, age gap (35F and 50M), able bodied reader, no use of y/n, camping as a plot device, brief mentions of their relationship history as written in cruel summer, semi-public sex - tent, vaginal fingering, oral - female receiving, unprotected p in v, creampie, dirty talk, pet names. please let me know if there are any that i missed!

When you agreed to go camping, you didn’t think it would be this miserable.

“Joel, where’s the bug spray?” You call from inside the tent. “I’m getting eaten alive out here!”

“It’s ’cause you’re so sweet, darlin’,” Joel replies. He pokes his head inside the tent flap. “Try the side pocket.”

You check the pocket in question, mumbling under your breath as you finally locate the bug spray. Joel backs up to allow you outside to douse yourself in the spray until you’re coughing from the fumes. When you’re done, you hand the bottle to Joel with a glare. He grins at you.

“Think you might have missed a spot,” he jokes, spraying himself with a more conservative amount.

“Very funny,” you reply. “Is it time to go home yet?”

“Not even close.”

You groan. “Fine. What do we do now?”

“We enjoy what nature has to offer.”

“We could have done that with air conditioning. Have you watched Animal Planet?”

Joel reaches for your hand, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around you. “I know it ain’t your idea of a vacation, but it’ll be fun. I’ll make it worth your while,” he says, his hands sliding down your back until they rest on your ass. He gives one cheek a rough squeeze that makes you gasp. “If you behave.”

“Define behave,” you reply. He laughs, head thrown back with the force of it.

“As little whinin’ as you can manage,” he says.

“I’ll do my best.”

“That’s my girl.”

You kept your word throughout the hike Joel leads you on, only complaining about the hills once. It all becomes worth it when you break through the tree line and find yourself on a cliff overlooking the canyon below, the scene so picturesque it takes your breath away.

“It’s so pretty,” you say, breathless from the view and the hike in equal measure.

“Sure is,” Joel replies, but when you turn to look at him, you find he’s watching you. The attention makes you feel warm and giddy. “Was it worth the bugs?”

“Maybe. Jury’s still out,” you tell him. He wraps an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your temple.

“Thanks for comin’ out here with me.”

You kiss him back, his beard rough beneath your lips. “Of course. It’s not every day you turn fifty.”

“Don’t remind me.”

When you first met Joel twelve years ago, he’d been hired by your parents to work on their house while they were off on a cruise and you were home from college for the summer. The start of your relationship was rocky at best but now the two of you have managed to build a life together despite the early hurdles.

“Let’s get back to the tent before it gets too dark,” he suggests, bringing you back to the present. “I got a surprise for you.”

“Is the surprise your—“

“Don’t be a little devil,” Joel says, cutting you off as you laugh.

Back at the campsite, Joel drags the cooler out of the tent and opens it, gesturing to the contents like he’s on a game show. Inside you see a stack of chocolate bars, a box of graham crackers and a bag of marshmallows.

“Are we making s’mores?” You ask, unable to hide your glee.

“Yep. But first, you’re goin’ to build a fire.”

You stare blankly at him. “Come again?”

“I’ll make sure you do,” he says with a wink.

“I can’t build a fire.”

“You can’t build a fire yet. I’ll teach you. Come on, let’s find some kindling.”

Joel leads you around the campsite, helping you collect dry twigs and leaves. At the fire ring, he guides you through the steps of setting up the tinder before handing you a box of matches. You strike a match and attempt to get the kindling to catch, but the flame almost reaches the tips of your fingers before it can and you drop the match in panic.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep that up,” Joel says.

“Then why don’t you help me?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Despite his joke, Joel kneels beside you and takes the matches from your hand, lighting one. He holds the flame to one of the dry leaves in the pile and once it catches, he leans in to gently blow into the building flame until it’s strong enough to sustain itself. He leans back and gives you a smug smile that makes you roll your eyes.

“There. Now you’ve built your first fire,” he says.

Joel brings the cooler and the roasting skewers he packed over to the fire and begins arranging the supplies on a plate while you sit nearby on the log bench. You tip your head back to look up at the sky, the last remnants of the sunset fading and the stars beginning to blanket the inky darkness. There’s a tranquility out here you’re not used to, not with your busy schedule at the hospital and the chaos of having a teenager and a pre-teen at home.

Joel taps your shoulder for your attention and hands you a roasting fork loaded with a jumbo marshmallow on the tip. You take it from him and lean closer to the fire, sticking the marshmallow straight into the blaze.

“That’ll burn it,” Joel warns, keeping his further away.

“They’re better crispy,” you argue. When the marshmallow catches fire, you pull it back out and let it burn for a moment, watching the exterior turn black before you hastily blow out the flame.

“That just ain’t right.” Joel continues to slowly roast his, turning the fork periodically.

The two of you spend a few hours enjoying the s’mores and each other’s company. When the fire dies down and you run out of supplies, you lean your head against Joel’s shoulder.

“You ready to admit that campin’ ain’t that bad?” Joel asks.

“I don’t know. I could still use a little convincing,” you reply, lifting your head to look at him.

His warm, broad palm settles on the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss that makes your toes curl. It’s slow and deep, none of the rush you feel back at home because the pace of your lives calls for it. This moment, under the stars and in front of the fire, has you feeling like you’re twenty-three again, jumping head first into what would be the best decision of your life.

You’re breathless when Joel pulls away and brings his hand to your cheek, his thumb swiping across your kiss swollen lips.

“Why don’t you go get comfortable in the tent for me and I’ll take care of puttin’ out the fire?” He suggests.

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” you reply, standing up so quickly you nearly knock your husband off balance. He smacks your ass as you turn to leave and the sound of his laughter follows you into the tent.

Once inside, you turn on the little battery powered lantern Joel hung up and find your bag, rifling through the contents for the lingerie you brought along for the trip. You quickly strip yourself of your clothing from the day and change into the matching set before settling on the pile of sleeping bags with your feet towards the entrance.

You hear the zipper on the tent flap and your heart races as Joel comes into view, pausing to look his fill and whistling lowly. He crawls inside, hovering over you on his hands and knees.

“All this for me?” He asks, ducking his head down to kiss your collarbone. “How’d I get so lucky?”

“You just couldn’t keep your hands to yourself,” you joke. Joel laughs, warm hand cupping your breast and his fingers pinching your nipple through the fabric. Your back arches at the sensation.

“Some things never change.”

Joel’s lips meet yours in a languorous kiss that pulls little moans from you as it progresses into something heated and urgent. You’re arching beneath him, demanding more touch, more attention, and he’s never been one to turn you down. One of his hands traces the length of your body until his fingers dip beneath the elastic of your underwear, immediately tracing through your wet heat.

“Goddamn,” Joel says, voice dark and eyes darker with lust. “Already so wet for me, huh?”

It’s not a question to be answered, not when he dips two fingers inside of you and curls them with an expert precision that makes you gasp. His thumb circles your clit each time his fingers draw back.

“So pretty,” he murmurs. “Always so fuckin’ pretty.”

He keeps the perfect rhythm with his fingers until you’re gasping his name and he’s talking you through your release with whispered praise and dirty words. When you’re boneless and breathless, he withdraws his hand and lifts it to your face, pressing his fingers to your lips. You open your mouth and he slips the digits against your tongue, the distinct taste of yourself exploding across your tastebuds.

“That’s it, sweetheart, clean ‘em up,” Joel commands. His eyes are fixed on you as you obey, his jaw tense as you put on a show for him, licking and sucking his fingers like you would his cock.

Joel pulls his hand away and makes quick work of removing your underwear, sliding the fabric down your thighs and tossing it aside. He spreads your legs wide enough to settle on his belly between them, face inches from your now bare pussy.

He kisses the inside of one thigh, then the other, repeating the attention until he’s so close to where you desperately need him that you can feel the warmth of his breath and you shiver in anticipation. When the heat of his mouth envelopes your sensitive clit, the sudden stimulation has you thrusting your hips against his face. His grip tightens on your thighs, holding you in place as he lavishes your cunt with messy attention.

You reach down to tangle your fingers in his dark hair, the strands now streaked with more gray than they have been in the past when you’ve been in this exact position. Joel groans against you, the vibration making you whimper and beg for more, more, more.

He’s a man on a mission, not stopping for breath or pausing to tease and taunt you with pet names and dirty words. His tongue circles your clit in broad strokes that has another wave of release cresting and crashing over you in record time. Your thighs shake in his grip and your fingers tighten in his hair to a point that you know must be painful but you just don’t care, and neither does he.

Your muscles finally relax and that’s when he sits up, frantically unbuttoning his flannel shirt with uncoordinated fingers and wrestling his boots and jeans off with equal fervor. His cock stands at attention and your mouth waters at the view, the thick head flushed and glistening with precum. You’re close to offering an equal exchange, his mouth on you for your mouth on him, but he has other ideas.

Joel’s hands paw at your hips, turning you over so that you’re flat on your belly. You lift your head to look over your shoulder as he shoves your right leg up with a bend at your knee, baring your pussy for him. He settles between your legs and takes himself in hand, running the head of his cock through the mess he’s made of you.

“You ready, baby?” He asks, slipping himself inside of you the tiniest bit, just enough to feel the stretch of him and want more. “Tell me you’re ready.”

“I’m so ready,” you moan, lifting your hips to take him in deeper. He wraps both hands around your bare hips as he sinks inside of you with one smooth thrust that leaves you gasping.

Joel lowers his body on top of yours, his chest to your back and his lips on your shoulder as he starts to thrust his hips, the angle deep and perfect on every slide inside of you and his cock dragging against your g-spot each time he draws back. He takes his time using your body for your shared pleasure and you relish the way he’s taken over every one of your senses.

“Gonna come,” he murmurs against your neck before biting at the skin over your pulse. You tighten around him and he groans, hips growing erratic in their movements. It’s only a few more sloppy thrusts before his hips are pressing tightly to your ass and he goes still, warmth flooding you as your pussy clenches around his cock.

You whine at the loss when Joel pulls away but he’s quick to return with a wet wipe that he uses to clean you up a bit before settling back down beside you. You rest your head on his chest and his fingers trace patterns on your shoulder as the sweat cools on your skin.

“You ready to admit campin’ ain’t so bad?” Joel asks.

“Consider me convinced.”

#joel fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel x reader #no use of y/n #summerlovin24 #pedro pascal character fanfic

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harryistheonlyoneforme · 1 year

Note

More CEORRY smut pls! He’s so HAWT🥵🥵

Got Me Right Where You Want Me*

warnings: smut, swearing, daddy kink, unprotected sex, breeding, exhibitionism

summary: YN and Harry spend a day on the golf course together, but she won’t make it easy for him

pairing: ceo harry x reader

wc: 5.4k

masterlist | harry styles masterlist | requests open

a/n: i’ve decided i’m gonna try and post a oneshot every friday (key word is TRY😭) and i’ll probably do blurbs in between

Fresh out of the shower with wet hair and a towel around his waist, Harry steps into his and YN’s shared bedroom, humming the tune of the song he’d been listening to. His eyes instantly travel to his wife, who is freshly showered as well, still sitting in the exact same spot she was in when he went to shower. He rolls his eyes fondly as he watched her scroll through her emails with just a towel around her, the cutest look of concentration adorning her face.

Making his way to her, he sits down next to her, and she looks up at him with a soft smile. Returning her smile, he leans forward and presses his lips to hers sweetly. She melts into him and frowns when they pull away, making him chuckle at her.

“Do you want to come with me to the course today?” he questions, standing from the bed and heading to the closet. YN is slightly confused, as he’s never asked her to accompany him before.

“I mean, of course, but what’s the occasion?“ she asks, standing up as well and heading to her side of the closet. Her eyes skim over her clothes as she awaits his answer, a sigh leaving her when she realizes she’d left her white tennis skirt at their London home the last time they visited.

“Just miss you,” he responds, sitting down on his ottoman to pull his shirt over his head. “Been busy all week and we haven’t really had any time together,” he finishes timidly, making YN laugh quietly at him.

Walking over to him, she leans over him and places her hands on his chest. “We’ve been together for ten years and you’re still afraid to admit you love me?” she questions. “I’m starting to think you’re ashamed of me or something,” she teases, heading back to her space to find an outfit.

Harry tuts at her, a frown tugging at his lips. “Oh, shut the fuck up. You know m’not ashamed of you. Never have been, never could be,” he retorts, pulling his pants up before sliding his feet into his shoes.

She laughs heartily at her husband, sitting down to start moisturizing her skin. “Yeah, I bet you can’t be. Especially not when you cried like a baby at our wedding in front of all your tough guy friends,” she teases, making him scoff in mock offence.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” he laughs, pushing her shoulder playfully before standing up to loop his belt into his pants. “I still think you’re the one who leaked those pictures,” he mutters, making her double over in laughter at the memory behind the accusation.

He makes his way from the closet with a dimpled grin on his face, headed to the garage to get his clubs. “I’m ready whenever you are, gonna be in the Range Rover,” he calls, and she nods in agreement although he can’t see her.

Standing back up, she skims her closet once more, dragging her finger along each item of clothing as she tries to decide what to wear. She knows it’s nearly 100°F in LA, so she needs something that’ll keep her cool.

Her eyes land on a purple, thin, tennis dress, and her face lights up as it’s absolutely perfect. It matches Harry’s shirt almost perfectly, and it’s thin enough to keep her cool out in the summer heat.

Taking it off the hanger, she smiles as she notices just how short it is, and knowing that it will be even shorter once it’s on her body. She slides on a decides against a bra, knowing it’ll be uncomfortable in the material and she can use it to her advantage anyways.

She immediately slips the dress over her head before deciding on some plain white sneakers and putting on some jewelry and perfume before heading out of the closet and down to the car where Harry is waiting for her.

In no rush at all, she takes her time and makes her way down to the garage, anticipating Harry’s reaction. She closes the door behind her and slips into the car without a word, buckling her seatbelt.

Harry’s eyes are practically burning her skin with how hard he’s staring, and she doesn’t even have to look at him to know that his eyes are bulging out of his head.

Turning to look at him, she puts on a look of faux confusion as she eyes him. “Are you okay?” she questions innocently, placing her arm on his bicep.

Her touch seems to snap him out of the trance, and he clears his throat with a small nod before pulling out of the garage and heading down the road. A small smirk plays on YN’s lips as they make the drive there, loving how fidgety Harry is beside her. She can clearly see his jaw clench every time he spares her a glance before swallowing thickly, his Adam’s Apple straining against the skin of his throat.

When the two are sat at a red light, YN decides to take it a step further. Reaching over, she places a hand on his thigh and feels the thick muscle twitch beneath her palm. Harry glares at her for a split second before the light turns green, his eyes snapping back to the road ahead.

A sigh of relief passes through his lips when he sees the familiar greenery of their country club’s golf course, ready to get out of the car that’s so thick with tension you could cut it with a knife. He practically speeds into his reserved parking spot, throwing the car in park and leaning back to rest against the seat.

Still smirking, YN moves her hand from his thigh to the very prominent bulge in his slacks, grazing it gently. She’s filled with satisfaction when he inhales sharply and cuts his eyes to hers in anger.

Before he can retaliate, she’s slipping out of the car quickly, and he’s not even a little bit surprised when she ‘drops’ her visor on the ground outside the car only to bend down to pick it up.

His eyes are bulging out of his head once again as he has a full view of her barely covered ass, making him stifle a groan. He can’t even form any words to speak, not that he’d get a word in anyways as she closes the door and heads into the building, a smug smile on her face.

In the car, Harry’s mouth is agape as he recalls each event he’s gone through since he stepped out of his shower, palming his cock as he realizes her game. He’s so hard it hurts, but he tries his best to will the boner away, all while coming up with a plan to even the score.

Rolling her eyes in frustration, YN flips Harry the middle finger as he turns to look at her, a dimpled smile on his face. Sweat is glistening on his forehead, dripping down the side of his face in the humid LA heat, and YN is damn near dripping down her thighs as she watches him play.

Ever since Harry set foot into the country club with a dimpled grin on his face, YN knew she’d fucked up by teasing him the way she did. No matter how nervous she gets, though, she refuses to show it.

With each precise swing of his favourite club, Harry makes sure to flex his muscles extra hard, and groans extra loud when the ball doesn’t go as far as he’d like.

After each of these, he cuts his eyes to his wife who is trying to act like it’s not affecting her, but he can see through her tough act. Just the thought of her dripping into her panties but acting like she isn’t has his knees weak.

About three holes in, Harry decides to take a break and go inside the club for some much needed air. He hops onto his reserved golf cart beside his wife and leans over to give her a peck on the lips before driving toward the building.

His smirk is still very evident when he places his free hand on her thigh that’s closest to him, and YN thinks nothing of it as it is a normal gesture. When he moves his hand up higher to the bottom of her dress, her breath hitches and she whips her head to look at him as she realizes what he’s doing.

“You’re not funny, H,” she hisses, a scowl on her face as his fingers touch the crevice where her thigh and pelvis meet.

Harry scoffs out a sarcastic laugh at her comment before he speaks up. “Yeah, but it was funny when you did it, hm?” he retorts, making the sharp turn that leads them to the concrete road. The movement makes his hand graze right over her pussy, and the both of them gasp quietly at the feeling.

Smirking, Harry turns his head to her for a split second. “It’s not funny. I see,” he mutters. “‘s not funny because you’re dripping into your panties and you want me to do something about it, right?” he questions, pulling into the parking spot and killing the engine.

He doesn’t even give her time to answer before he’s pushing down right where her clit is, making her choke out a moan.

Just as she starts to buck her hips into his hand, he pulls away, laughing loudly as she whines in frustration. “Should’ve thought about that before you started this, Pet,” he teases, waiting for her to climb out of the cart and head inside.

He reaches his hand out for hers, but she angrily stoops past him, upset that he’s beat her at her own game. The action makes him laugh even harder, shaking his head at his prideful wife.

Once inside the club, Harry gruffly greets everyone he knows, ignoring the ogling women around him. He truly only has eyes for his wife, not even bothering to look their way. Each woman has their eyes on him as he steps in, confused as to why he stood waiting by the entrance.

All of their confusion quickly moulds into jealousy as they see a beautiful woman enter the building, a pretty dress on that is the same colour as Harry’s shirt. They each take note of how he smiles softly at her and wraps his arm around her waist to keep her close, a stark contrast to the way he interacts with others.

The club is silent as the two make their way to the bar, watching the way his arm never leaves her body. No one has ever seen YN, let alone the way he treats her differently than everyone else.

The two of them just end up getting waters, parched from the heat. Despite the fact that water is free there, Harry makes sure to slap two $100 bills onto the counter once they receive their drinks.

It’s no longer silent in the club, the onlookers going back about their day as the two are literally just drinking water. Once the two are all refreshed from the cold drinks, Harry places a ringed hand on YN’s thigh once again, making her jump slightly at the coldness of his palm.

She has to stifle a groan when he picks up where he left off earlier, toying with the edge of her panties before pulling them to the side and swiping a finger through her folds. The action has her eyes rolling into her head when he grazes her sensitive clit, and then he just pulls away.

YN groans in frustration at the teasing, leaning up to whisper in his ear angrily. “Okay, it’s not fucking funny anymore,” she grits out, making Harry’s eyes widen slightly in shock. “If you aren’t going to fuck me then stop fucking touching me,” she finishes, sitting up straight once more.

Turning her head, she looks at her husband and immediately knows she fucked up. His eyes have darkened and his jaw is clenched. Unsurprisingly, the sight only turns her on even more, and she has to squeeze her thighs together to try and relieve some of the throbbing between her legs.

“In the fucking bathroom. I want you bent over the sink with y’panties down,” he demands, pinching her clit slightly and making her whimper at the slight pain that shoots up her spine. “And don’t even think about touching yourself. You’re already in trouble,” he warns, snapping her panties back into place and taking another drink of his water.

She practically scrambles as she hurries to the family bathroom, doing as he says and hoping that no one comes in and sees her exposed this way.

It’s definitely been over ten minutes by the time she’s getting so desperate she can barely wait, and then the door swings open, making her tense. She hears a familiar hum of satisfaction from behind her, and she relaxes as it’s only her husband.

Closing the door behind him, he doesn’t take his eyes off of where she’s dripping for him, watching as a bit of her slick trails down her thighs with how desperate she is.

Stepping up behind her, he swipes a finger over the skin of her thigh and collects some of her arousal before bringing it to his lips. Looking up into the mirror, he finds her eyes as he brings his finger to his mouth.

Moaning at the taste, he watches as YN squirms in discomfort as he pussy throbs at the sight. No more words are exchanged as Harry unbuttons his pants and takes his cock out before using his palm to clean up some of her arousal.

YN is confused for a moment, but it doesn’t last long at all as she watches him wrap his hand around his cock and start to stroke it with her stick.

He groans in pleasure as she whines at the sight, unsure how much more she can take. “Please fuck me. Swear I’ll be good, Daddy. Just please,” she begs, finding his eyes in the mirror.

“Mm, I don’t know, pet,” he tsks, stepping forward and moving the head of his cock through he swollen folds. “You haven’t been on your best behaviour today, so I’m not sure if you deserve it,” he hums in faux thoughtfulness.

She’s near tears at this point, just desperate to feel him deep inside of her and stretching her out. “I swear I do, I didn’t meant it,” her eyes are still boring into his. “I’ll be such a good girl, just-,” she’s immediately cut off with a gasp that melts into a moan, as Harry decided to push his cock into her in one quick thrust.

Her hands are gripping the counter tightly as he bottoms out, her jaw dropped as she hears him groan behind her. She’s so fucking full of him, feeling each ridge and vein of his cock grazing her sensitive walls.

“Thank you. Thank you so much, Daddy,” she babbles, feeling the head of his cock pressed slightly against her cervix.

The slight pain has her head spinning, and he’s just pressed up against her as he lets her adjust. When she’s fully relaxed, she gives him a slight nod of permission to begin thrusting into her.

Harry wastes absolutely no time, pulling out until only the tip of him is resting inside of her before slamming back into her and burying himself to the hilt.

The force of the thrust sends her flying forward, a choked moan falling from her lips at the feeling. He repeats the action over and over, and she’s sure she’ll have bruises on her torso in the morning from how rough it is. But she wouldn’t change it, not at all. Especially not with the way he’s making her feel so good she can barely form a coherent sentence.

Cries and moans are accompanied by the sound of Harry’s hips hitting her ass with each thrust, giving everyone outside a mental image of exactly what’s going on behind the bathroom doors.

That thought doesn’t stop him, though. If anything, it gave him the motivation to keep up the pace, absolutely wrecking his wife. His fingers are digging into her hips as he pulls her back to meet each thrust as well as keeping her stable.

Removing one hand from her hip, he brings it down onto her backside harshly, listening to her cry out and feeling her clench around him. “Gonna cum?” he questions, watching as she squeezes her eyes shut and nods, ready to cum then and there.

Just as she’s about to fall over the edge, though, she feels her orgasm slipping away and she’s empty as Harry pulls out of her, stroking his cock furiously before sliding the tip back into her at the last moment and cumming inside her contracting walls with a throaty groan.

She whines in frustration, slamming her hand down onto the counter as she squeezes her shaking thighs together for some sort of stimulation.

She looks up at him questioningly, the sadness on her face almost making him feel bad. Almost. The remorse is quickly turned back into arousal as he sees his cum leaking from her and down her thighs a bit.

“Fuck,” he pants, tucking his cock back into his slacks. “I should make you sit out there in a puddle of my cum but I need you home so I can really take you,” he spits before spanking her ass once more.

She moans deeply at the sharp sting as he rubs the sore spot before pulling her panties back up. “Cmon, let’s get to the car,” he tells her, and she instantly obliges.

The two walk back out into the main area, ignoring the shocked looks of the other members as it’s very obvious what they were doing in the bathroom.

Once they’re back in the car, YN is still very angry at her mean husband, but at the same time she knows she deserved it for being a brat. She just didn’t think he’d deny her of an orgasm.

The radio is on in the car, and it’s the only sound they can hear beside the engine. YN’s arms are folded neatly in her lap as she tries to avoid more punishment, already knowing he’s angry.

“Pull y’panties down,” he demands suddenly, making YN look at him in shock before immediately doing what he requested as she takes in the firm look on his face. “Rub your clit a little. Just real soft and slow,” he tells her, eyeing her as she places one leg on the dashboard and passes him the panties.

She wastes absolutely no more time, bringing two fingers between her messy folds and then up to her swollen clit before rubbing slowly and softly, just as he’d told her to. The stimulation feels so good, and she squeezes her eyes shut and throws her head back against the seat as she tries not to speed her hand up.

“Would y’look at that,” he muses, basking in the sound of her breathy whines as he watches her tease herself. “Y’panties are all ruined, poor thing,” he smirks.

She cries out in frustration and pleasure as she circles her clit again, the slow torture only making her angry.

He hums in faux sympathy, looking over at her for a brief second. “Do y’need Daddy to take care of you?” he questions, smiling softly as she nods furiously. “Oh, Pet,” he tsks. “Should’ve thought about that, hm?” he continues. “Slap y’cunt five times. Hard. Then put your legs back down,” he finishes, making her groan at the demand.

She follows his orders immediately, the stinging pain of the slaps making her jump and cry out in pain. She doesn’t let up, though, finishing up the request before closing her legs tightly and fixing her dress once more.

Harry gives her a towel to clean his cum from her hand before they continue the drive in silence, YN anticipating what’s to come.

By the time they arrive at home, nervous isn’t the word to describe what YN is feeling, not in the slightest. She’s kind of shaky, but Harry places a warm hand on her thigh and calms her down, his gentle touch letting her know that there’s nothing to worry about. He will always take care of her.

Stepping out of the car with her panties in pocket, Harry walks around to the passenger door and helps her out, letting her go in front of him to punch in the code to get into their home.

He closes the door gently, taking his shoes off as she does the same. “You can take a seat on the couch, I’ll be back down after I take a shower,” he tells her before pressing a passionate kiss to her lips. Yet another gesture to let her know he isn’t too angry anymore.

She nods and does as he says, just scrolling on her phone for a few minutes until she hears a knock on the front door. Confusion fills her, she’s not expecting anyone and she hopes Harry isn’t at a time like this.

Opening the door, YN is honestly saddened to see Niall, Harry’s best friend, on the other side of the door in some casual clothing.

Leaning down to give her a hug, he places a friendly kiss on YN’s forehead as she invites him in. He starts to slip his shoes from his feet, making YN frown and groan under her breath.

“Hey, YN. I hope you guys don’t mind I came over. My girlfriend and her friends are having a girls day so I’m gonna bother you two for a couple hours,” he tells her, making his way to the couch and sitting down exactly where YN had been sat just moments before.

“No, no! Don’t-“ YN tries to warn him, but he’s already sat there and getting comfortable, turning on the television in front of him.

“Don’t worry,” he continues. “It’ll be like I’m not even here,” he finishes.

“Alright,” YN sighs, still standing near the couch. “Do you want a drink or something?” she questions, and he shakes his head.

“No, you just go about whatever you were doing. Thanks,” he smiles, turning back to the television.

“I fucking wish,” YN mutters, headed to the kitchen to get a drink. She rests at the counter with her elbows against it, completely forgetting about how she was pantiless and still dripping with her husband’s cum. Not long after, she feels a presence behind her, making her jump in fear.

“Shh, it’s just me,” Harry chuckles, making her relax. She takes in the scent of his body wash and shampoo, seeing his wet hair before noticing that he’s only dressed in a towel.

“Come upstairs with me. Gonna take care of you, okay?” he tells her, pressing a kiss to her shoulder and then repeating the action all the way up her neck, making her whine and squirm.

“We can’t, Niall is here,” she grumbles, and he gives her a look that shows he clearly doesn’t care.

“I know, I saw him come in on the doorbell camera,” he answers. “Just gonna have to be a little quieter than normal, can you handle that?” he asks her, laughing as she nods quickly.

Grabbing her hand, he pulls her with him as he quietly runs up the stairs and into their bedroom, closing and locking the door behind them.

“On y’back. Need to eat your cunt before anything else,” he tells her, and she immediately scrambled to do so, desperate to feel him on her in any way she can.

He climbs on the bed after her and spreads her legs, eyeing her messy cunt before him. He’s rock hard by now, his cock throbbing and aching as he needs to be inside her again and feel her cum around his cock.

Lying down on his stomach, he wastes no time, diving in immediately and swiping his tongue through her dripping folds. Both of them groan at that, YN from the feeling and Harry from the taste of his cum on her.

He closes his eyes and works on her, not letting up for even a second as she pants heavily above him. He’s so hard that he subconsciously starts grinding into the duvet, chasing an orgasm as well.

The towel is still wrapped around his waist, the semi rough fibres grazing his sensitive cock perfectly with each push of his hips into the bedding. The feeling makes him groan against her, only pushing her closer to her orgasm.

“Please, can I cum?” she cries out quietly, reaching down and pushing his head tighter to her. He hums and tries his best to nod, giving her permission to finally cum.

She cums then and there, and it’s so hard she has to squeeze her eyes shut and turn her head to bite down onto the pillow beneath her head. It’s all she can do to keep herself from screaming, her legs shaking around his head as she cums so hard there are stars behind her eyelids.

He keeps licking at her until she whines and pushes him away, making him sit up, panting. “Holy shit we taste so good together,” he mutters, causing her to let out a snort.

“We’re not done, though. Ready for me now?” he asks her, and she laughs in shock before nodding at him.

He quickly helps her to lie on her side, getting behind her and lifting her leg to be over his waist. It’s no secret that it’s her favourite position, allowing her to be close to him as well as feel him so deeply. And it’s his favourite just because it’s her favourite.

Grabbing his cock, he slides the head through her swollen folds for a few seconds before lining up with her hole and slowly sliding in, making her eyes roll back as she gets what she needs.

She lets out a loud moan when he bottoms out, making Harry quickly place his hand over her mouth. “Hush, Pet. Don’t want us to get caught with m,cock deep in you, do you?” he teases, groaning when she clenches down on him at his words. That makes him hum in realization, pulling out just to push his cock back into her before repeating the action over and over at a consistent pace.

Neither of them know that Niall has gone on a search for them, calling their names quietly as he explores the house. Stopping outside of the bedroom door, he hears the faint sound of clapping of some sort, making him stop and listen.

“I bet you want him to hear, hm?” he teases darkly, listening to her whines and moans as she accommodates him fully. “Want m’bestfriend to hear how much of a whore you are for me,” he finishes.

His words have her crying out in pleasure, and he squeezes his hand even tighter around her throat. She claws at his wrist as she struggles to breathe, but he knows she truly doesn’t want him to stop because she didn’t tap him three times.

“Shut the fuck up, ‘m not gonna stop fucking you until you soak my cock and I fill you up again,” he grits, ignoring the sound of Niall groaning in frustration.

The two hear a groan on the other side of their locked door, but he doesn’t let up on his bruising thrusts. “You guys are fucking disgusting, I’m just going to leave,” Niall calls as he makes his way back downstairs with a disgusted look on his face. “Fuck like rabbits, I swear,” he mutters before slamming their front door shut.

YN’s eyes are rolled back into her head, her hand clawing at Harry’s wrist even harder, warning him of her orgasm, knowing it’s going to be big. Leaning down, Harry bites down on her ear gently before pulling away. “I know, baby. Gonna cum again, hm?” he questions, although he already knows the answer.

She nods against the force of him furiously, her eyes squeezed shut as she tries to hold off on her orgasm until he gives her permission. Opening her chapped lips, she manages to breathe out, “P-please,” she begs, her voice raspy. Leaning down once more, he presses some gentle kisses all over her neck before sucking on the spot gently.

Wanting to torture her a bit more, he smirks against her skin before he pulls away. “Please, what? What do you want?” he questions, loving the way she chokes and cries out in frustration, tears streaming down her face. “Tell me what you need, use your words, pet,” he hums, feeling her lock up around him once more.

After numerous attempts, and in between gasps for air, she can finally get it out as her lower body practically goes numb. “Please, let me cum,” she begs, feeling her stomach clench almost painfully.

Deciding to end his torment, he nods against her. “Yeah, pet. Cum for Daddy,” he rasps, nearing his orgasm as well. Immediately after he’s finished speaking, he feels her relax around him before locking down on him so tightly that he bites down on his bottom lip to hold back a scream of pleasure.

Her orgasm overloads almost all of his senses; he can hear, feel, and see her orgasm take over her body. The way her breath hitches in her throat and she lets out an almost animalistic groan fills his ears, her tight hole clenching down on him once more as he doesn’t stop his thrusts, the feeling of her orgasm soaking the both of their thighs making him look down as the clear liquid comes from her vagina.

All of those things combined send him over the edge with a silent scream, his face scrunched up as his orgasm is nearly painful with how tight his balls and stomach are.

His thrusts never cease, feeling her flutter around him as he fills her for the last time tonight as she relaxes fully, exhausted. He finally lets go of her throat as she starts to lose consciousness, rubbing up and down her body to ground her and cooing to her to let her know he’s there.

Not even removing himself from her still contracting hole, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her closer, pressing soft kisses to her shoulder as she comes down slowly. The two stay that way until he has completely softened inside of her and her breathing is no longer shaky and uneven.

Her eyes are still closed in exhaustion when he slowly pulls himself out of her, a small hiss leaving his lips at the temperature change. With another chaste kiss to the side of her face, he lets her know that he’s going to get a washcloth for her, knowing she doesn’t have the energy to move from the bed.

She responds with a tired hum, her eyes still closed. While away, Harry wets a washcloth with warm water before grabbing some relieving cream, and on the way back to his wife he grabs a pair of loose cotton panties for her to sleep in.

Making his way to her, he spreads her legs gingerly before wincing at how swollen she is, guilt filling him. He wipes gently, but obviously not gentle enough as she cries out softly in pain as he grazes her sensitive clit.

“Sorry, baby,” he mutters, being way gentler as he finishes up. As soon as he’s done, he grabs some relieving cream and puts a bit on her before sliding some panties up her legs, rubbing her thighs when she whines slightly in discomfort. “I know, I know. You just need to sleep in them tonight and then you can breathe tomorrow,” he tells her, wiping some sweat from her forehead.

She nods weakly and snuggles into his hand, the warmth making her feel comfortable and even sleepier than she already was. Harry chuckles quietly before cleaning himself up quickly and taking the washcloth back into the bathroom before he pulls some boxers on.

He’s back at her side instantly, helping her weakened body out of the bed and across the hall to their guest bedroom, making sure he tells her what he’s doing to keep her grounded. The blankets are quickly pulled back before he helps her underneath them, and then he’s climbing under them himself, exhausted from his multiple orgasms as well.

No time is wasted before he’s wrapping his arms around her and looking down, only to see that she’s already asleep, her breathing quiet and even. With one last chuckle, he presses a kiss to her forehead before closing his eyes, drifting to sleep as well.

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thebestofoneshots · 7 months

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Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 8.2 K Warnings: None Prompt: It's a snow day! This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

THIS CHAPTER CAN ALSO BE READ AS A ONESHOT

Chapter 35: Chill of Desire

Tuesday, December, 14th, 1976

“It’s snowing!” you heard Mary squeal, her excited tone waking you up instantly, and causing you to smile as you looked through the window. Mary had propped the window open and extended her hand as she stared outside.

It wasn’t only snowing then, in fact, it had been snowing all night, all the towers, the fields and the valley were covered by a thick layer of snow. The trees stood tall, their branches delicately coated, creating a magical-looking scene, more magical than Hogwarts already was, anyway.

You had the view of the forest from your window, and you could see the Whomping Willow shaking off the layers of snow that had fallen over him at night, which made you smile, the memory of the devious night having been replaced by so many cuddles with the boys that the looking at the Willow was not as stressful as it had been at some point, you didn’t think of how Remus had gotten hurt by it, but rather you thought of how you had kissed Sirius under it. And how you might be going to meet Moony later that month, as Vixen this time around.

The courtyards and pathways were like winding paths through a snowy maze, and the usually bustling grounds were hushed under the soft blanket of snow, you could see a few students outside enjoying the white fields –especially the younger ones– you still had hours before you had to get to class, you realised when you eyed the small cuckoo clock your mom had given you at the beginning of the year. It wasn’t even time for you to go on your morning flight yet, but you thought perhaps it would be a good idea to skip flying in favour of playing in the snow, even if it was just for a day, you were sure you’d be able to convince James if you managed to recruit Remus and Sirius first.

The world outside seemed to have taken a pause, wrapped in the serene beauty of winter, with barely a few students playing in the snow and trying to get from one spot of the castle to the other without making much noise. Of course, that wouldn’t last long, not as long as you could help it. You stood up and changed into something warm, putting on Remus’ sweater. You had taken the habit of wearing a lot more often since you wanted to test a theory that had cemented itself in your brain since the day of the Slytherin sweater incident.

Once you were ready you turned to the girls “Come outside in like…” You pondered for a second, 5 minutes to wake up Sirius, another 5 for the two of you to convince Remus to join your shenanigans. Like 10 minutes to convince Prongs and about 4 for them all to get ready. Peter would be coming the minute you convinced Potter, so you didn’t worry much about that, “30 minutes,” you said, adding a few minutes to spare “It’ll be fun.”

“How fun?” Lily asked, a look of worry on her face that made you laugh.

“It’s a snow day Lils, it’ll be brilliant, I promise!” you said with a smile plastered on your face as you put on a pair of boots and disappeared from their sight. Returning just a second later to take the invisibility cloak you had borrowed from James the previous night. You had it on a ball, and neither of the girls asked about it since they had assumed it was just a blanket you borrowed from Sirius or something. The minute you stepped out, you turned over a corner and put it on, walking straight towards the boy’s dormitories.

Once outside their door you took a deep breath and leaned your ear close to the door, just wanting to make sure they were all still asleep. Which, as you predicted, they had been. You smiled and used your wand to open their door with a tweak on the classic “alohomora” that Remus has taught you.

They had charmed their door, obviously, they had, but Remus –who often left his keys since he rushed in the mornings– had found a way around their own charm and taught it to you since you had been sneaking in to cuddle him and Padfoot, as Vixen of course. It hadn’t been every day, but you had all agreed that you’d have to do it a lot more often closer to the moon, to make sure the smell of the pack was well rubbed.

You thought you already smelled like them enough, but neither of them seemed convinced. Or rather, neither of them wanted to stop cuddling each other, and you didn’t either. Padfoot was fluffy and Remus was always warm, which was especially nice on colder nights, the kind that were already much more common because of the time of the year you were in. And, sometimes, rather often, Sirius would turn back into himself and cuddle both you and Remus, only to turn back into Pads in the morning. If either Pete or James knew, they didn’t say a thing. Remus had always been asleep, or at least pretended, so neither you nor Sirius noticed, and you, who would lay half a top of Remus half a top of Sirius who had now learned exactly how to pet you, weren’t about to complain either.

Once inside you looked at the boys and opened one of the windows with a swish of your wand, bringing a small blizzard inside the room and leaning in over Sirius’ bed, letting the snow fall slowly over his delicate features. He had his mouth slightly parted, and his hair sprawled all around him. He was the loveliest thing to look at; he looked like a princess, like Snow White, you thought, especially when a small snowflake got stuck on his thick black lashes. No wonder Prince Charming wanted to kiss the girl awake. You too felt tempted to kiss him.

“Sirius,” you whispered.

He groaned, and you whispered his name again, giving in and giving him the kiss you wanted, a quick peck over one of his eyes, feeling how the snowflake over his lash melted away with the warmth of your mouth. He opened his eyes and looked at you, and then around, there was snow all over, coating you, himself and his bed as you leaned over him with a sneaky little smile on your face. The smile that oh so clearly stated, you were up to something.

You were looking at him in such a way that he forced himself to clear his throat, trying to think of anything other than his morning discomfort. On days like this, he would get a shower and release himself of those thoughts, and something else. But clearly, that wasn’t an option at that particular moment, let alone with you leaning on top of him like that. You licked your lips and he almost cursed.

“Sirius,” you said again “It’s snowing!”

“I can tell Starshine,” he said as he picked a small snowflake that had gotten stuck in your hair, watching it dissolve in his fingers before he turned back to you. Well done, Sirius, she hasn’t noticed, he applauded for himself.

You smiled and leaned in closer to him, his breath hitched in his throat, you had no fucking idea what you were doing to him. You leaned enough to whisper in his ear. “Help me convince Prongs to play in the snow instead of practice.”

He almost frowned, turning to get a better look at you. “You’ve never had a snow day?”

“I’ve had…” you said, “but never with you.”

He sighed at your words but turned to you with a warm smile. “Fine, let’s go,” He said as he sat on the bed, still thinking of ways to get rid of his problem, his covers falling discreetly over it. If only there was a spell for that.

“No, first we must convince Remus.”

“Remus, why?”

“If Remus is in, there’s no way Prongs will say no, even if we’re skipping practice.”

Sirius seemed to be processing what you said but nodded. “Go ahead, I’ll go change,” he said, motioning for you to move as he leaned over to find his shirt “bet he’ll like it if you wake him up with snow too,” he said with a devious smile and you rolled your eyes, giving him a soft peck in the mouth before walking over to Remus, bringing the small blizzard along with you.

Had it been a few weeks ago, you might have been hesitant to do exactly what you were about to do, but you had climbed onto Remus’ bed so often in the past few days, either for cuddling as Vixen or just for chilling, that it was almost more natural than it was to climb onto your own. It was like climbing onto Sirius’ bed even, although, lately the two of you spend a lot more time on Remus’ bed than his own, because of the scent thing.

You leaned over and watched the small snowflakes fall over Remus’ face, he looked just as handsome as Sirius had. Or perhaps, the way to describe Sirius correctly would be ethereal, Remus was handsome.

“Hey Rem,” you said softly, placing his hand over his shoulder. This time around, you decided to be softer, and more careful, not forgetting that one time he had pinned you on his bed. He stirred, brows furrowed lightly and nose almost imperceptibly scrunched up.

“Sirius?” he asked, not opening his eyes, you smelled like Sirius, and you and him. Your scents had been so mixed at this point, he just assumed it was Sirius since it would make more sense for it to be him, especially to be bothering him so early in the morning, not that he minded, not as long as it was him.

“Try again,” you said with a smile.

Remus hummed content, “Little Witch.”

You eyed him cautiously, his eyes were still closed and you leaned a little closer, shaking his shoulder lightly. Then he all but grabbed you by the waist and pushed you to him, Remus was still way too asleep to process what he was doing, and you fell over his torso as he tightened his grip. When Sirius walked out of the bathroom he spotted the two of you and thought it was the most adorable thing he’d seen, even if you had a small frown as you tried to fight your way out of the werewolf’s grip. But Remus was way too fucking strong.

You huffed and turned to Sirius “Mind a little help?” you mouthed, he smirked in response. In seconds he turned into Padfoot and walked over to the two of you, leaning his head into yours for a second before jumping so his paws were on the bed and then, he leaned over and started licking Remus’ face.

You barely managed to see Remus scrunch his face before he opened his eyes, looking rather startled. First, there was snow; second, Sirius had woken him by licking his fucking face; and third, you were laying horizontally across his torso, your head tilting slightly to the side with a rather amused expression, and he was holding you there.

“What the fuck?”

“You’re very grabby in the mornings,” Sirius said, now back in his human form and staring at Remus with his face laid over his crossed arms, which were leaning on the same spot Padfoot’s paws had been on, smile plastered on his lips.

Fucking hell he looks adorable, Remus thought.

And so did you, calmly lying there as you waited for him to loosen his grip. You didn’t mind waiting all that much either, Remus was comfortable. And then Sirius turned to you, placing one of his hands over your hair and letting it gently slide out, causing your head to turn towards the two of them in his action “Look at the poor thing, waiting there patiently for you to let her go Moony.”

You frowned, condescending. You were about to argue, but there was something about the way both boys looked at you that also made you want to shut up, as if you didn’t want to break whatever spell had been cast over the three. And it wasn’t the first time either. You blinked a couple of times. “Poor thing my ass,” you managed to say to Sirius, even if you let him play with your hair still.

Remus almost reached to do the same, his hand twitched, but you didn’t notice, you had closed your eyes as Sirius continued to play with your hair. Looking rather content in the position. A small spark of rage came to Remus and he tightened his grip around you, only for a second until he realised that he was way out of line and let you go. You didn’t move, just enjoyed Sirius’ hand for a few more seconds and Remus wished he could be the one to make you feel like that. Eventually, you took a deep breath and opened your eyes again, biting your lip as you looked at Remus “It’s snowing.”

He looked around and raised his eyebrows at you, his face clearly stating “no shit Sherlock”.

“Starshine here wants to go play out there in the snow with us,” Sirius said.

You were about to swat him for being so haughty with you, but you realised by the way the corner in his mouth lifted forward, he was just doing it to piss you off. You didn’t even realise the way Remus had gulped with how intensely you were glaring at Sirius.

“Or we could just stay and cuddle,” you said with a sneaky little smile, you knew Sirius was already eager to go out there and play with the snow. Two people could play his little game. But both boys liked the idea just as much as the prospect of going out in the snow with you.

“Let’s go,” Remus said as he patted you on the leg casually, a signal for you to get off him. If Sirius noticed his gesture, he didn’t seem to care much that he had done it, and you didn’t seem to notice either. It was almost as if the three of you had special concessions with each other that wouldn’t be allowed to many others. For example, Sirius would surely be pissed if you had been cuddling Tom, or even Peter, but with Remus, he didn’t seem to mind, heck he even encouraged it sometimes. Not that any of the three noticed these little things, but some people did.

“Get changed,” You told Rem with a bit of a smile, “We’ll go wake James.”

Remus nodded and both you and Sirius stood up. You walked over to James’ bed, and Sirius was about to jump over him to wake him up with a thud, but you stopped him, bringing in your small blizzard over his friend. Sirius smiled and took his wand out, making more snow come inside, and having relatively strong –and cold– winds blow over Prongs.

Neither of you was being half as gentle as you had been with Remus, was it because you knew Moony’s short temper or… something else? Perhaps it was part of those special concessions you allowed one another.

James started to shiver, pulling his covers higher up only for Sirius to slide them down again with a swish of your wand. Only then did you realise Prongs had been shirtless under the covers. You gasped silently at the sight, covering your mouth and staring. Prongs was fucking ripped, not as much as Remus but certainly ripped. You did not remember him being so fit back when you had been him.

Sirius nudged you with his shoulder when he noticed you were staring “Stop ogling him, will you?” he said slightly annoyed, he tried to hide it, and it slipped pass you.

You shook your head, still amazed. “Do you have a camera? Lily should know.”

Ah… so that’s why she’s staring at Prongs, fair enough, Sirius thought. He stared too, also thinking that while Prongs was ripped, Remus was much better. The snow became thicker around Prongs as Sirius’ thoughts focused on his other friend, the wind became even stronger, blowing on James’ hair, and making it even messier than usual. You were about to tell Sirius to hold back a little when James woke up, sitting on his bed fast and in panic.

“Wakey-wakey Rudolf!” You said with a smile.

Remus, who was just stepping out of the bedroom, looked at the two of you, wicked smiles on your faces while James stared, almost horrified, and he smiled. His two naughty little crushes. He wondered if you’d reach in to cuddle him and Sirius tonight, he wanted you to do it, he wanted you to do it really bad.

“What in the bIoody–“

You were about to speak, but Sirius stole your line “It’s snowing!”

“It’s freezing, that's what is!” he said as he pulled the covers, but you took them from him and dangled them in the air.

“No-uh Prongs, it’s time to get up!” He gave you a reproachful look, “Come on! It’s a snow day, we must play in the snow a little before it melts away… and class starts.”

The blizzard you and Sirius had caused was already dissipating, leaving the beds of the boys, and their floor, just a little slippery. But James peered to the window. “I highly doubt the snow’s gonna melt away anytime soon, luv… Besides, what about flying?”

“No flying today mate,” Remus intervened from behind the two, gently placing his hands on both yours and Sirius’ shoulders, “It’s snow day, and the first one of the season.”

“But…”

You sighed. “Lily will be there,” you added.

James’ eyes pretty much beamed after you said that and he ran up to his trunk, throwing a pillow towards Peter’s bed who woke up completely confused, “Why am I being attacked?” he asked with a frown.

“It’s a snow day Pete, we’re all coming out to play!” You said excitedly, Peter blinked as if wondering why the hell you were in his room before remembering you had been over more often than not lately, and because of his idea, that is.

“Morning Vix,” he said politely. “Fancy seeing you here,” he added as a joke.

“Oh.. piss off and change before you start teasing us all over again,” Sirius responded.

And he had been teasing you rather often. Since you started cuddling Remus together, he wouldn’t stop with the canine jokes. Either Puppy cuddles, lovable howlers, or whatever the hell came into his mind at that moment. He found it hilarious that the three of you were so close and that the three of you were a variant of the canine family. Something about being meant to be or whatever.

Peter just snickered and walked into the bathroom with clothes in hand, James didn’t even care, he straight up turned around and took off his pants right there in front of you, which had Sirius pull you to look at him and Remus cover your eyes with his hands. You laughed at their silly reactions. “Yo, Rem, when I said I would let you blindfold me, I didn’t think you’d actually go through with it.”

“Sly little fox, promising things without meaning them, are we?” He teased.

You laughed again, letting your head shake. Remus was eyeing Sirius then, and Sirius returned the stare, the two of them stayed like that, almost frozen as they looked at each other, your laughter almost fading into the background as Sirius turned his gaze towards Remus’ diverted smile. Remus has a pretty smile, pretty like Starshine’s, he thought.

“Is he done?” You asked, pulling on Moony’s hand to try and see a little bit better. That broke their trance and the two of them turned back to look at you, Sirius’ eyes flickering to your lips for a second, thinking he might actually be going insane.

“Yeah, I’m done,” James said as he leaned over and placed an arm around your shoulders. “Why are we hogging Vixen?”

“She came to wake us up with a fucking snowfall, now she must suffer,” Remus said as if it were the most natural thing. You nudged him lightly, about to say something when Peter stepped out, several layers of sweaters over him.

You smiled “You get cold easy, Wormy?”

“He’s got no tolerance,” James said, “and he always forgets the warming spell.”

“I could help you with it,” you offered.

“Thanks,” he said with a genuine smile, “but I’ve come prepared,” he added as he pulled a small piece of parchment from the pocket of his coat, showing it off in between his index and ring finger. “Annie gave it to me and charmed it so I wouldn’t lose it,” he explained, “It always reappears in my pockets now.”

“What? That’s brilliant!” you said reaching for the parchment and taking it from Peter’s hand for a second, looking at the symbols in the back. Remus approached you from behind to take a look.

“It’s complicated magic,” he said.

“It looks like an altered version of Homunculus,” Sirius said, he too had approached you and stared at the back of the small paper.

“Mixed with a clinging spell and a respawn one,” you added perplexed, “It’s incredible…” you said breathily, disbelief lacing your tone.

“Indeed.” Peter proudly raised his head. “Annie is insanely clever.”

You smiled and gave the paper back to him, before frowning and turning to the boys. “Do you guys think the Homunculus charm could help with the map?” you asked with a frown.

Remus bit his lip as he thought about it and then turned to you, “Vixen, that’s it! If we take the homunculus cham and somehow connect it to Hogwarts Magic–”

“And then bind it to the core of the map then… we could have absolutely every single student, teacher and visitor to the castle tagged at once!”

Remus nodded, “No more sneaking charms in their robes and backpacks! Fucking hell, we’ve cracked it!”

You and Remus were staring at each other with such sheer excitement over it, so hyped up that the boy almost reached out to kiss you, managing to stop, and clenched his fist by his side.

“Nerds,” Peter teased, dragging out the e slightly.

“But hot ones,” Sirius added inadvertently, giving a small shrug as he did.

Remus turned to Sirius with a frown, but you just placed your hand over one of his shoulders and nodded. “Indeed we are,” you said and sent a wink his way. You then spun on your heel back to the rest of the marauders “Shall we? The girls must be waiting for us by now,” you said, standing on your toes to look over Sirius’ shoulders, at the clock.

A few seconds later, and due to James’ idea, you were all running down the stairs and through the halls, in an attempt to get to the orchards as fast as possible.

“Do not run in the halls!” you heard a couple of scandalised paintings scream, and you just giggled as Sirius threw a silencing spell their way. The portraits looking at him enraged as you all kept running. By the time you reached the doors to the grounds, you were all panting, cheeks burning and grinning like fools.

You were bent down trying to catch your breath when you felt a snowball that came from the outside straight to your face. The boys gasped and started laughing as you dusted off the remnants of snow and looked up and tried to spot where it had come from. You continued to scan the field, only to find Lily Evans, smiling and waving at you with the most guilty expression you had ever seen in a person.

Now it was your turn to gasp. “That’s what you get for waking us all up early,” She shouted from a few metres in the distance.

“Mary woke us up!” You argued, “I only made arrangements.”

“No, no,” James said, a wicked smile on his face. “You did wake us up early,” he added as he pointed at all the marauders. “And with a fucking blizzard,” the boy was already walking towards the redhead, “I say it’s time for payback.”

You were about to say something when you received another snowball in the face, you looked at the boy with an expression of absolute betrayal as the leftover snow fell over your coat. “James Potter you little shit!” you said. He gave you a daring look in return. And you scoffed amused. Then you leaned down and made a small ball, packing the snow gently before throwing it his way. James easily veered out of the way, which you should have expected, since he was so used to dodging bludgers.

“That all you got? You’d make a terrible beater, luv!” he teased, taking the ball Lily gave him and launching it your way, this time around you managed to dodge, but the ball fell right on the side of Sirius’ head.

“Prongs, my hair!” he whined. Both you and Remus snickered, the taller boy was now the one passing you a snowball, allowing his hand to linger just for a second too long, as he did, not that anyone noticed, Sirius was too busy taking snow out of his hair and Peter had run off somewhere earlier. You smiled and brought the ball up to your face.

Using what you learned from charms to perform a small, wandless spell, over the projectile, you smiled wickedly and threw it his way again. James dodged to the side but the snowball turned with him and landed square on his face. You laughed as James looked at you with absolute shock, trying to remember if you had –at any point– taken your wand out. When he realised you hadn’t, he was half impressed, and just as he was pushing his glasses back on his face, he received another ball on the side of his head, his hair getting filled with snow as he gasped.

Sirius –who had thrown the ball– was waving at him with a smile. Until seconds later he too received a snowball on his face, a laugh from Marlene as she nudged Mary echoed in the distance.

Remus was about to pass you another snowball when he too got hit, square on his chest –the lucky bastard– by none other than Beth Doxon. She smiled, her bright red hair being covered by a warm Gryffindor cap. “Come on Professor Lupin! Stop passing balls and start throwing them!” she taunted, Remus took the ball in his hands and threw it her way.

“Kind of fits you,” you said with a smile as you leaned down for another ball and moved it to your mouth to charm it again, “Professor Lupin, it’s got a ring to it.”

“I much prefer the sound of Professor Moony,” Sirius teased from behind, “encapsulates his personality better.”

“Sod off, Pads!” Remus said, also crouching down to get more snowballs, when he stood up, and another ball came your way, you quickly moved behind him. He turned to you in disbelief. “What am I? Your human shield?” he asked, just as a snowball fell on the side of his face.

“And an effective one, isn’t he Kit?”

“Very,” you responded with a light giggle. “It’s about his broad shoulders,” you said as you placed both hands on them, Remus tensed, looking at Sirius, thinking he might be angry, or jealous, or something. But neither of those things happened, instead, he joined your praising.

“And he’s tall too,” Sirius added, walking right behind you, and placing his hands over your shoulders, really close to your neck, in fact, close enough so his cold fingers crashed against your warm skin, which caused you to hiss and step away from him, crashing onto Remus.

“Shit Sirius!” You complained as you attempted to tighten the scarf around your neck “You’re cold as fuck.”

“But you warm my heart baby,” he teased, an overly gooey tone in his voice as he extended his hands towards you again, you knew exactly what he was about to do and you scurried out of his grasp and ran towards the snow, even if you got a few snowballs thrown your way as you tried to cross the field. You found a statue and with a quick confringo, melted the snow at the top to make a dent and take cover.

You quickly made a ball from the snow at your side and threw it on Sirius’ hair, leaning your head just enough time for him to notice it had been you. He eyed you, diverted and then you felt a snowball hit the back of your head, you turned around just enough to find Remus with another snowball in his hand.

“Scoot over, will you?” He said as he leaned down, as if ready to enter your improvised trench.

“No, you threw a snowball in my head,” you responded, feigning annoyance.

Remus chuckled and placed one of his legs inside your trench either way, “And you used me as your shield, we’re even.”

You shook your head in amusement but scooted over either way. Remus swished his wand and suddenly a pile of snowballs appeared behind you. You smiled and took your own wand out, whispering the same locating spell over all of them. Remus raised his eyebrow at you as if he was impressed, and you shot him a wink as you took a ball and leaned over to throw it towards Lily, meanwhile, Remus was throwing some Beth’s way.

“You’ve abandoned me for a sexy werewolf I see,” Sirius whispered in your ear, he had apparated just behind the two of you. He had been practising since your last class when Professor Dumbledore allowed you all to try doing it for the first time by yourselves, and he was insufferably good at it.

“The werewolf doesn’t want to bury his freezing cold hands on my neck,” you said –if only you knew where he wanted to bury them– without even turning to look at your boyfriend, if you had, you’d probably go soft at the sight of his eyes. He often got what he wanted from you with just a look, and he fucking knew it all too well. Not that you didn’t have the same effect on him, hence, you two were absolutely chaotic together.

Your small trench was barely enough for the three of you to fit in together, and it’s not that either of you was a stranger to touching each other, but Remus was feeling the heat rise up to his cheeks as your shoulders brushed against his, but much more worse when his back brushed against Sirius’ smaller chest. It was like the Halloween party all over again, but this time Remus didn’t want to run away.

Well, perhaps a part of him did, but the rest of him, the part that had thoroughly enjoyed cuddling Vixen and Padfoot, wanted to do the exact same to you and Sirius. He wanted the two of you to be his, to slather you with his scent so much that the entire world knew who you belonged to.

Of course, that was ridiculous, Remus knew, but he was hungry, Moony was hungry, the problem is he didn’t want food, he wanted his two best friends.

A nudge in his stomach pulled him out of his thoughts. “Mind teaching me how to make so many balls at once Professor Lupin?”

“It’s Professor Moony,” Sirius insisted, he had to duck as a ball flew towards his head in that instant.

You rolled your eyes “Rem?”

He was still a little shaken by the thought, almost hazy with how thrilled being so close to the two of you made him feel. “Yeah sure, just… whisper pila nix,” he said as he showed you what he did. “It’s a simple swish and curl.”

You did as told and in seconds there was another pile of snowballs ready for you to use. Sirius looked at Remus surprised. “You’re a great teacher mate,” he said, “should try helping her with transfiguration.”

You groaned at that “You know I’m a lost cause,” you said as you ducked, the small ball falling straight on Sirius’ face. He tugged your hair lightly “Oi, what was that for?” you complained, turning to look up at him.

“So you warn me next time.”

You looked at him amused, and grabbed some snow from the side of your trench, “Hey Puppy, there’s a snowball coming your way,” he looked around, as if trying to find the offender, only to receive one right from where you were crouching.

He turned to look back at you shocked and smiled as he shook his head, “Oh you little Minx!” he said as he bit his lip, “I was letting you go scot-free earlier.”

“Not my fault you didn’t see the ball,” you said, unconsciously etching closer to Remus.

“Aww darling…” Sirius said as he crouched next to you, and pulled you into a hug.

“Sirius, what– what are you, fuck…” you said springing up from the spot you were on, his hand –his freezing cold hand– that he had slipped under both your shirt and sweater had landed on your bare back. You stood behind Remus again, using him to shield yourself from Sirius. “Treason!” you said dramatically.

“You don’t want another hug from your boyfriend?” he asked with a playful pout.

You shook your head, still feeling the cold of his hand. If the snow fight was still going, neither of you was paying too much attention to it. Let alone Remus, who was really struggling not to let the feeling of you pressed against his back get the best of him. Only made worse by the way Sirius’ wrapped his arms around him and pressed himself to the boy as he tried to reach you either way.

Do they not fucking know about personal space?, he thought. But of course, you didn’t, not when the two of you had been cuddling him every other night. Needless to say, it was different for him, he was just cuddling two fluffy animals when he fell asleep –except in those rare occasions Sirius would turn back– meanwhile, both you and Sirius were just cuddling good old Remus. This wasn’t any closer to him than you’d been already.

Remus didn’t speak, he was holding his breath. Sirius kept fucking pressing against him and you kept squirming behind his back. The golden specks of his eyes were so golden they looked like a different colour altogether, more like Moony’s than his own. The chocolaty brown shifting into dangerous and shimmering aureate.

“Moony! Moony help!” you called out in between laughs.

“Don’t you dare, Moons!” Sirius warned.

Sirius pressed harder as you tried to squirm away and it was enough for him to feel bIood run south. He had to stop this before either of you noticed what was happening to him, so he turned around and grabbed both of your shoulders, digging his hands in between your necks and the back of your heads, enough force to get your attention, but not enough to hurt either of the two.

Sirius seemed to be shocked at how much warmer Remus’ hands were in comparison to his, to yours. You were not, you knew Remus tended to run on the warmer side. Hence, cuddling him on cold nights was so useful. “Enough,” he said, flashing his golden eyes at the two of you, the colour slowly sinking back into brown as the two of you looked at him as if his eyes had been those of a basilisk instead of his own, frozen.

And then, you eyed Sirius, a small smirk playing on the corner of your lips as you sank your hands back in the snow. He smirked in return, sinking his hands as well. By the time Remus noticed your intentions, your hands –icy and freezing– were on his neck and Sirius had slid his hand under Remus’ shirt.

Merlin knew who had been more startled after that. You, who had tumbled as you pulled on Remus and had him fall on top of you. Remus who had been shocked at the way Sirius had gone straight for his stomach –which in truth, had been a lot more shocking than the cold– and had his breath hitch in his throat. Or Sirius Black, who was only now contemplating his actions, realizing how awkward it must have been for his friend, and having a mini panic attack over the fact that digging his hands under Remus’ sweater felt as fucking thrilling as it did.

Remus was a lot less soft and a lot more firm than you were. And he adored your softness, but fuck, Remus’ harder frame felt impious under his hands. It felt lurid, licentious, beguiling… and it placed some rather salacious thoughts in his head.

Thoughts that… would be worthy of a muggle rock star. Of Freddie and Bowie, and perhaps even Elton. But Sirius was not– he wasn’t because if he had been… he’d know, right?

As you still had Remus pulled by the neck, you received yet another ball on the head, the leftover even splashing onto Remus whose head was so close to you that you could smell his hair, and then, you started laughing. So hard that you weren’t even feeling the cold against your back, the snow slowly sinking in your robes and soaking them.

Sirius was the next one to laugh, taking his hands off of Remus’ stomach and letting himself fall next to the two of you as he continued to cackle. And lastly, Remus joined, you still hadn’t let go of his neck, almost using it as a personal heater at that point, he didn’t seem to mind, and eventually he just sort of relaxed into you, if you felt the shift in weight as he let go, you didn’t seem to mind at all either.

“Well, well, well, would you look at the love puppies all cosied up while we continue the snowball fight.”

Sirius grabbed a snowball from the side and threw it his way without even looking, and since they all had the missile spell it landed straight onto Peter’s face. “Shut it Wormtail,” he said, borderline rudely.

While Sirius had never minded being called “Love Puppy” or whatever other joke Peter came up with, that was before he started doubting himself about whatever the hell was happening to him whenever he spotted Remus. Especially after exactly what he was feeling after he placed his hands under the other boy’s shirt, especially because it had been so fucking similar to the feeling he got when he did it to you.

“We’re off for breakfast. You are not planning to stay all tangled in your little love trench, are you?” Peter asked again, whipping his face off the snow and paying no mind to Sirius and how rude he’d been.

“We might be,” you joked, your hands had unconsciously travelled to Remus’ head after he laid down and you were now toying with his hair. He had silky hair, a little thicker in comparison to Sirius’ curls. Remus hummed in agreement, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the way your hands felt on his scalp. If Sirius thought it was weird, it had been his fault he ended up on top of you anyway. A part of him was telling him how bad of an argument that was, but it was easy enough to ignore it when Sirius didn’t seem to mind, and your hands felt heavenly.

“Suit yourselves, I heard there was going to be an assortment of Christmas pies today,” he said with a shrug.

Your head snapped his way. “Christmas pies, you said?” you asked, eyes shining and mouth watering at the thought. Your soft touch on Remus’ head switched to an unintended pull of his hair as you turned.

“Ouch!” He complained.

You winced, “Sorry Rem,” you said, not even turning to him as you patted him on the shoulder and wriggled your way out of the sandwich he had trapped you in with the snow. He tried not to look disappointed as he stood back on the small trench. By then you were already standing outside of it, and looking at Peter as if you wanted him to elaborate.

“The elves mentioned something,” he said simply. “Apple, pecan, peach, chocolate, some savoury ones too I assume.”

If you were a cartoon, you’d be drooling. “Well boys, pleasure messing with you and all that, but it’s pie time,” you said as you turned to walk behind Peter and the rest.

“Who’s the traitor now?” Sirius shouted with a smile.

“I’ll save you boys a seat,” was your only reply as you started sprinting towards the Great Hall, determined to be among the first to arrive so you could choose from the assortment of pies available.

The boys caught up with you as you were taking a seat, already having walked through the length of the table and picked out the pies that you’d be eating. When they sat down, Remus at one side of you and Sirius purposely taking the other side to keep some distance from himself and the source of his thoughts. You picked two pies from your plate and placed them in front of each of the boys.

“What’s this?” Remus asked as he picked it up.

You were about to give a bite to one of the tarts you’d picked and said “Pie,” with a shrug, taking a bite right after and moaning at how good it was.

Sirius’ whose head had already been messy that day, had to adjust his pants uncomfortably. First, you woke him up and he couldn’t complete his morning routine, then there was the whole confusing thing whatever the hell was going on in his brain when he was close to Moony and lastly, you moaning shamelessly as you ate.

“No shit Sherlock,” Remus said as he pushed you lightly, shoving you against Sirius whose breath hitched as you laid your cheek on his shoulder and pressed a light kiss. “I mean, what’s it made of?” You sat straight and pushed Remus in return.

“Try it, I know you’ll like it!” you said with a smile and gave another bite to yours. He gave you a distrusting look. “Oh come on, Moony! I wouldn’t give you something you don’t like! You’d get all pissy and Pissy Moony is no fun.”

“Pissy Moony?” he asked, almost offended. “You have a term for that?”

You left your pie on the table and raised his up to his mouth. “Sirius told me about it,” you said, “Now eat up, I promise you’ll like it.”

He gave you one last side eye and then gave it a bite, missing your hands the moment you brought them back to your plate to take a bite of yours.

“Cherries and chocolate,” Remus said with a smile as he turned to you. “I love it. How did you know?”

You shrugged, “I’m just that brilliant.”

“Will you also mouth-feed your boyfriend or is that only reserved for dear Moony?” Sirius flirted, trying to regain some sort of control of the dire situation he found himself in.

Sirius didn’t mean anything by it, but the way he’d said “your boyfriend” straight up felt like a jab on Remus’ heart. Sirius was right, the two of you were dating and he seemed to be intruding more and more lately. But then again, the only times Sirius seemed upset about how close you all were, were when he was teasing.

You rolled your eyes, but decided to take his pie in your hands either way “Close your eyes,” you instructed. Sirius gave you a weary look but did as told. “Try and guess what it is, deal?” you asked as you leaned it closer to his mouth. He leaned enough to give it a bite and then turned to you surprised “Is that…? Does it have firewhiskey?”

You smiled and pulled out a small bottle from your pocket, “Thought you’d like something a little different,” you said with a smile “peaches and firewhiskey.” Sirius took the pie from your hands, his discomfort almost fading in the background as he took a look at the pie you’d given him.

“But how?”

You shrugged “Added the firewhiskey and then did a small warming spell so it cooked a bit. I’m sure it would be better if they were cooked together from the start but I thought you’d appreciate a little spice…”

“I do, wanna taste it?” he asked as he passed it over, you gave it a small bite and all but moaned again, even closing your eyes and letting your head fall back just a little, exposing your neck to both boys, who could barely keep their eyes away from it, especially Remus. “Fuck I’m an incredible cook, Moons taste this out too!” you said as you, for the second time that day, shove a pie close to his face. When he gave a bite he couldn’t help but taste both you and Sirius in it. It really was fucking delicious.

He nodded as Sirius leaned over you to take the pie from Moony, their hands brushing against each other and giving both boys an electric-like feel, not because of actual electrical shock, but rather because of what they felt for each other. Sirius reclined back on his seat and placed his hand on your leg, seeking the hem of your skirt before sliding it over your skin.

Same fucking feeling.

You looked at his hand and nudged him lightly, he gave you a flirty wink in return that made you laugh and Remus tried to avert his gaze from both Sirius’ hand and the way your skirt had ridden up a good deal.

You gave another bite of your pie and turned to Remus, as casually as you could muster –even if you were a bit nervous to ask, which you shouldn’t be because he was your friend– “Wanna come to Slughorn’s Christmas Party with me?” No better time than now, right?

Remus wasn’t so sure about that, he almost choked on his own pie, he wiped his mouth with the back of his sweater before turning to yours with a frown “I’m sorry, what?”

Sirius started drawing circles on your leg, the way your skirt moved with each of his strokes didn’t escape Remus’ nervous gaze on you. “The Christmas Party from the Slug Club, I’m supposed to bring someone with me” –you tilted your face with a smile– “Want to come?”

Remus turned to Sirius, giving him a look, the other boy just shrugged with a nod but that wasn’t enough. “What about Sirius? Your boyfriend?” The words almost hurt to say.

“He doesn't want to come,” you said. “Right, Siri?”

“That’s more your kind of nerd stuff,” he said after he nodded, and pointed at the two of you.

“Slughorn has never invited me, he doesn’t want me there,” he said, not sure if he was supposed to feel dejected because you were his second choice or fucking delighted because you’d want to take him and not Sirius, thought he had to remind himself that you probably did want to take Sirius.

Remus didn’t stop to think that you would have, had you actually wanted to, easily convinced Sirius to come along. Let alone, would he have imagined that you had asked Sirius if you could take him instead.

“That’s exactly why I want to take you”– you said as you placed his hands around his arm– “I want to show that old snake how freakin’ clever my best friend is. You deserved an invitation much more than I did anyway.” Remus gave you a reproachful look when he heard the last thing. “You’re coming, yeah? It’s always fun to prove the snakes how wrong they are with you.”

Sirius smiled. “Come on mate, don’t make her beg,” Sirius said, flicking his finger on your thigh and letting them rest closer to the inner side, still at a prudent distance, and while you did feel the shift, you played it cool and tried not to even look. “Girl might end up taking Pete if you reject her,” he teased.

You elbowed him softly, not because you didn’t want to take Peter, but because he was implying it would be such a terrible choice. Of course, you’d much rather take Remus or even some of your other friends, like Tom or Minho (he was already invited) but that was because you were pretty certain Annie Doxon would hex you if you took her boyfriend. James was going with Lily, so he was completely out of the question.

“Okay,” Remus said with a shrug, trying to seem as natural as possible. “I’ll come but… what about the date though, you know near the end of December it’s the…”

“Moon’s on the 22nd, party is on the 21st. I know it’s just a day before and I’ll totally get it if you’re not feeling up for it by then. I wouldn’t want to make you into a Pissy Moony.”

He pushed you with his shoulder again, “Sod off!” he said jokingly and both you and Sirius started to laugh.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: Some people were asking for a snow day chapter, and this felt about the perfect time for it. Love playing in the snow with the boys <3 Upon some requests, we have a DISCORD server now and you can all join in and chat about marauders and/or GC with other lovely people. If you wanna discuss a new oneshot or even the new chapters of GC this is your place to go. The announcement for it is here and I'll leave links to it on a reblog of this post ad in the comments.