description: a cutie lil fic where eddie is just completely obsessed with you. who knew all he needed to bring you two together was jason carver beating his ass?
pairing: yearning!eddie x you (fem!reader)
tags: yearning!eddie, protective!reader, eddie x reader, no y/n, reader insert, slow (ish) burn, first kiss, happy ending, fluff the house down boots, high school romance, so much fucking yearning, eddie's head over heels
WC: 4.5k
TW: bullying, violence, some smoochies
A/N: requested by @midgardian-rogue hope you enjoy!! sorry for the wait! life is kicking my behind. i haven't forgotten about you all.
reblogs are always appreciated my loves<33
hope you all enjoy an ounce of some innocent fluff before final girl pt.2 bc......
People talked about love like it happened all at once. Like it was lightning. Like one look across a crowded room, and suddenly the rest of your life made sense.
Eddie Munson thought that was complete and utter bullshit.
Love wasn't lightning; it was erosion. The kind that wore you down one unnoticed glance at a time until one day you looked up and realized you'd built an entire religion around someone who didn't even know your favorite color.
Everyone knew you.
Not in the way they knew Jason Carver, Jason demanded attention. You never asked for it…it simply just followed you.
Teachers smiled a little wider when you answered questions. Freshmen gravitated toward you on the first day of school like frightened birds, somehow knowing you were safe.
It was infuriating. Not because Eddie disliked you. God, that would've made things so much easier, no. You were kind.
Genuinely, painfully, kind.
The kind of person who remembered birthdays without writing them down. The kind of beauty that had nothing to do with your face. Though...that certainly wasn't hurting anything.
You smiled with your whole body. Your shoulders, your eyes, even your laugh looked warm. Sometimes Eddie wondered if the sun waited for your permission before coming up. Which—
Jesus Christ.
See? This was exactly the problem. He couldn't even think about you without sounding like he'd swallowed a Hallmark card. He'd never even spoken to you. Well, not really.
Sure, there'd been little moments. A borrowed pencil sophomore year. A quiet "thank you" when he'd held a door open. Passing each other in the hallway enough times that nodding became an unspoken ritual.
But conversations? Actual conversations? Those belonged to people who lived on the same planet. You lived somewhere else entirely.
Some place made of honor roll certificates, volunteer hours, and Sunday mornings that probably smelled of pancakes instead of cigarette smoke.
Eddie had long since accepted that there were invisible lines running through Hawkins High. Athletes. Nerds. Burnouts. Band kids. Freaks. You somehow belonged to all of them, while he belonged to exactly one.
Hellfire. The trailer park. The people adults warned their children about.
Wayne always said Eddie had expensive taste. Not in clothes or cars, but people.
"You always go lookin' at things that ain't yours to carry," Wayne had muttered once while Eddie admired an old cherry-red Gibson through a pawn shop window.
At the time, Eddie thought he meant guitars. Now he wasn't so sure. Because every morning, without meaning to, he'd find himself searching the parking lot before first bell. Just to see if your car was there.
And every afternoon, he'd linger exactly thirty seconds too long outside English because he knew your classroom was across the hall. Not enough to be obvious, just enough to catch one glimpse.
Then he'd spend the rest of the day pretending that was somehow enough, though it never was.
The thing about memories was that they lied. Or maybe they just... polished themselves over time.
Eddie couldn't remember what he'd eaten yesterday. Couldn't remember what movie he'd watched with Wayne the week before. But he remembered that afternoon, every stupid, humiliating second of it.
It had been almost exactly a year ago.
The last bell had rung, sending Hawkins High spilling into the hallways in a tidal wave of backpacks and locker doors slamming shut. Eddie had lingered by his locker, stuffing loose campaign notes into a folder while Gareth argued with Jeff about whether dragons were technically reptiles.
He never heard Jason coming. The locker door slammed shut before Eddie could grab it, the metal rattling loud enough to make nearby students jump.
"Well, if it isn't the freak."
Eddie sighed. "Christ, Carver. Don't you ever get tired?"
Jason leaned against the neighboring locker with that smug grin Eddie had grown to hate. Andy and Chance flanked him like loyal guard dogs, each wearing the same self-satisfied expression.
"Nah."
Jason reached out, flicking Eddie's shoulder with unnecessary force.
"I actually look forward to these little chats."
"I don't."
"Funny."
Another shove. Not enough to knock him down, but just enough to remind him who had thirty pounds and varsity sports behind him.
"You know," Jason continued loudly, making sure the people walking by could hear, "I heard you recruited another freshman into your little Satan club."
Eddie rolled his eyes. "You guys are really obsessed with us."
"Just looking out for the town."
Same script, different day. Eddie had learned years ago that fighting back only made it worse.
So he leaned against the lockers and waited for them to get bored. He almost missed the footsteps approaching.
"What are you doing?" Your voice wasn't loud.
Jason turned first. "So, this doesn't concern—"
"It concerns me now."
You stepped between passing students without the slightest hesitation, your backpack still hanging off one shoulder.
"Move."
Jason laughed. "Excuse me?"
"I said move."
Andy scoffed. "You serious?"
Without another word, you planted a hand square against Andy's chest and shoved him back just enough to force him away from Eddie. Not hard, but just enough to make it clear whose space he'd invaded.
Jason stared at you, his jaw tightening. "What the hell is your problem?"
"My problem?" you echoed. "Three against one seems pretty pathetic to me."
"We're talking."
"No." You folded your arms. "You were cornering him."
Jason took one step closer. "I'd be careful if I were you."
Eddie's stomach dropped.
But you didn't move. Hell, you didn't even blink.
Instead, one eyebrow lifted. "What?"
Your voice stayed infuriatingly calm. "You gonna hit a girl?"
Jason's expression hardened. "I didn't say—"
"No?" You tilted your head. "I mean... you've already got one thing in common with your father."
You paused, eyeing him up and down.
"It'd be a shame if you decided to copy the rest of his behavior too."
Jason's face went red. Not from embarrassment, but pure fury. The kind of fury that made his nostrils flare.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"No?" You shrugged. "Then prove me wrong."
For a moment...Eddie genuinely thought Jason might do it. Might shove you. Might yell. Might finally snap.
Instead, Jason looked around. He couldn't touch you, not here. Not with everyone looking.
Jason just clicked his tongue. "Whatever."
He shot Eddie one last glare. "You're not worth it."
Then to you, "Careful who you stick up for."
You smiled. "I'll keep that in mind."
Jason scoffed before turning on his heel. "C'mon."
Andy and Chance followed without another word.
Eddie realized he'd been holding his breath. "...Thanks."
You turned toward him. For a second, he thought you might say something profound. Something unforgettable.
Instead, you smiled; that warm, easy smile he'd only ever seen from across classrooms.
"Don't mention it." You adjusted your backpack. "See you around, Eddie."
Eddie? Not ‘Munson’? He thought.
Then you just…walked away. Like standing up to Jason Carver was no bigger a deal than holding the door open for someone. Eddie watched until you disappeared around the corner.
He didn't realize Gareth had come back until someone elbowed his ribs. "Dude."
"Hm?"
"You okay?"
Eddie kept staring at the empty hallway. "...yeah."
A year later...Eddie could still tell you exactly where you'd been standing. Exactly what you were wearing. Exactly how your hand had looked when you shoved Andy away from him.
He'd spent three hundred and sixty-five days trying to convince himself it hadn't meant anything. That you would've done it for anybody. It was probably true. But God knows that didn’t help slow his crush on you down in the slightest.
There was a reason Eddie loved the Hawkins Fall Flea Market. Sure, half the vendors were selling ceramic geese in tiny bonnets or dusty kitchenware that should've been thrown out sometime during the Nixon administration.
But every now and then...Someone's grandfather died, and suddenly there'd be a box full of first-edition fantasy novels.
Or vintage dice. Or a stack of Dragon magazines someone didn't realize were worth something. Treasure hunting. That's what Wayne always called it.
"You never know what you're gonna find."
Eddie had been elbow-deep in a cardboard box labeled COMIC BOOKS - 25¢ for nearly twenty minutes before giving up his search for anything remotely Dungeons & Dragons related.
No dice…literally.
With a dramatic sigh, he wandered farther down the rows of tents, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket as he smiled to himself. It wasn't exactly exciting, but it was comfortable.
He almost walked right past the record stand.
It was tucked between a vendor selling antique fishing lures and another covered in old comic strips and movie posters. Milk crates overflowed with vinyl records while wire racks displayed cassettes in crooked little rows.
Naturally...Eddie wandered over. His fingers skimmed over faded album covers. Thin Lizzy. Rush. Van Halen. Not bad. Then—
"...No way."
He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but there you were. Standing on the opposite side of the rack, your brows pinched together in concentration as you thumbed through a crate marked HEAVY METAL.
You wore an oversized forest-green sweater with the sleeves pushed over your hands, faded jeans, and beat-up Converse he'd never seen you wear to school. Your hair was tucked behind one ear as you carefully flipped through albums like you actually knew what you were looking at.
There was no universe in which this made sense. You belonged in the classical section. Or maybe folk, something acoustic. Not Iron Maiden. Motörhead. Judas Priest.
He blinked hard, almost thinking he was staring at a mirage. Nope, still there.
You looked up and caught him staring again. A smile spread across your face almost instantly.
You smiled victoriously before turning back to the rack. After another moment of searching, your face brightened. "There it is."
You pulled out your own cassette. The Cure: Disintegration.
"See?" You held it up proudly. "I have range."
Eddie laughed. "I'll allow it."
"I appreciate your approval."
The older vendor wandered over. "You kids find everything?"
You nodded. "I think so."
As the man rang up your cassette, Eddie was still standing there holding the Mercyful Fate tape in both hands like you'd just gifted him the Holy Grail.
You paid, tucked the cassette into your canvas tote bag, and looked back at him. "I'll see you Monday?"
He swallowed. "...Yeah."
"Don't wait too long to listen to that." You pointed toward the cassette still in his hands. "I'd like to know what you think."
Before he could ask exactly how you planned to do that...you were already walking away.
You lifted a hand over your shoulder. "Bye, Eddie."
He watched until the crowd swallowed you whole. Only then did he glance back down at the cassette.
"You gonna buy it?"
The vendor's voice startled him. "Huh?"
"You've been holding it for five minutes."
"Oh."
Eddie looked down at the cracked plastic case, then toward the direction you'd disappeared. "...Yeah."
He smiled to himself. "I think I have to."
The cassette wasn't rare. He'd seen three copies of the same album over the last month. It wasn't even his favorite Mercyful Fate record. But this one? This one had your fingerprints on it.
By Wednesday, Eddie had listened to the Mercyful Fate cassette four times. Not because it had suddenly become his favorite album, it hadn't.
But every time King Diamond's voice crackled through the speakers of the van's cassette player, Eddie could picture your smile across that flea market record stand.
"I think you'd like this."
Wayne noticed by Tuesday night. "Ain't this the same tape you played yesterday?"
"...Maybe."
"You finally wear out your Sabbath tapes?"
"...No."
Wayne glanced over the rim of his newspaper. "...Girl?"
Eddie nearly combusted on the spot from how red his face was.
The cafeteria buzzed louder than usual as homecoming week had officially taken hold at Hawkins High. Construction paper streamers hung lopsided from the ceiling.
The student council had somehow convinced the administration to decorate every available surface in orange and green, making the cafeteria look like it had exploded.
Eddie hated it. He hated pep rallies, football, and he especially hated homecoming. And he especially especially hated listening to Jason Carver talk about the "spirit of Hawkins."
"So," Gareth said through a mouthful of fries, "we skipping the pep rally?"
"We're legally obligated to."
Jeff nodded solemnly. "It's in the Hellfire constitution."
Mike frowned. "We have a constitution?"
"We do now."
Laughter bounced around the table. Then Dustin elbowed Eddie. "Dude."
"What?"
"Twelve o'clock."
Eddie looked up. You moved from table to table carrying a thick envelope and a clipboard tucked against your chest. Homecoming tickets, of course.
You stopped at the basketball table first. Jason smiled, and you smiled back politely. Professional and nothing more. Then the band kids. Then the theater kids. Then—
Hellfire...and Eddie's heart immediately forgot how to function.
"Hi, guys."
You smiled at the whole table before your eyes landed on him.
"Hi, Eddie."
God. You always said his name like it belonged in your mouth.
"Uh... hey."
"So," you said, setting the envelope on the table. "I'm making my rounds."
You held up two small orange tickets. "Homecoming tickets. Five dollars."
Jeff snorted, Mike looked horrified, while Gareth dramatically searched his empty pockets.
"We're allergic."
"I figured."
Then you looked back at Eddie. "Oh."
Your smile softened. "Did you ever listen to the cassette?"
His brain completely abandoned him. "...Yeah."
"And?"
"It was..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "...Really good."
"'Really good?'" You looked mock offended. "I thought it'd at least earn a 'life-changing.'"
"I was trying not to sound insane."
"So you liked it?"
"I—" He smiled before he could stop himself. "...Yeah. A lot, actually."
"I knew you would."
Something warm settled in his chest. You knew. Not hoped, not guessed, knew.
Which is why, when he said, without thinking, "I'll take two."
Silence, which even made Eddie freeze. What?
Your eyebrows lifted slightly. "...Two?"
He stared at the tickets. Abort mission. Abort mission. FUCK! Too late.
"Uh..." His hand was already digging into his pocket. "Yeah."
He slapped a crumpled ten-dollar bill onto the table before his brain had the chance to intervene. "I'll take two."
You looked at him for a second longer than necessary, then the smallest smile tugged at your lips. Then, you handed him the two orange tickets.
"Our music committee isn't nearly as good as Mercyful Fate."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"I'll see you around?"
"...Yeah."
You gave the table one last smile. "Have a good lunch, guys."
Then, you disappeared toward the next group of students, and the second you were out of earshot...
Five heads slowly turned toward Eddie.
"...What the hell was that?" Dustin snaps.
"What?"
"You hate homecoming."
"I don't hate—"
"You called it," Gareth interrupted, "'capitalist propaganda with crepe paper.'"
"I stand by that."
Jeff leaned across the table. "So why," he asked carefully, "did you just buy..."
He held up two fingers. "...two tickets?"
Eddie blinked. "...Did I?"
"You were there." Mike snorted. "I'm pretty sure you even paid for them."
Eddie looked down at the tickets in his hand as though they'd magically appeared there.
"...Huh."
Gareth burst into laughter. "'Huh?'"
"'Huh?!'"
"You bought two!"
"I know!"
"Do you?!"
Dustin reached across the table and plucked one from Eddie's fingers.
"'Homecoming Admission.'"
He looked around dramatically. "Guys. I think Eddie the Banished has suffered a traumatic brain injury."
Jeff nodded. "Only explanation."
"You've spent three years talking about how dances are government mind control."
"They are."
"So, who are you taking?"
Eddie opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Because...he hadn't thought that far. He hadn't thought at all. He'd just wanted another excuse or another thirty seconds of hearing your voice.
"...Nobody."
Five skeptical expressions. "Nnnoooobody?" Gareth echoed.
"Nope."
"So you just bought two tickets..."
"Yep."
"...For fun?"
"...Sure."
Mike deadpanned, "That's the stupidest thing you've ever said."
Dustin slowly smiled. "Oh."
"Oh no," Eddie muttered.
"Oh, no."
Dustin pointed across the cafeteria, where you were still making your rounds. "You bought two tickets because you're gonna ask her."
Eddie nearly choked on his Coke. "I am absolutely not."
"You absolutely are."
"I absolutely am not."
Jeff grinned. "Dude."
"You've been listening to that cassette all week."
"You don't know that."
"Wayne told my mom."
Eddie's head whipped toward him. "...Wayne, what?"
"My mom was at the trailer dropping off your uncle's casserole dish."
Jeff shrugged innocently. "He said—and I quote—'Boy's been playing the same damn tape for three days. Must be love.'"
The entire table erupted while Dustin pointed triumphantly. "Called it."
Eddie dropped his forehead onto the cafeteria table with a groan.
By the time Hellfire finished packing up their campaign books in the theater room, basketball practice had just let out. Which meant letterman jackets, inflated egos, and Jason Carver. Perfect.
Eddie spotted them before they spotted him, or so he thought.
"You boys have another séance today?"
Gareth groaned.
"Just keep walking."
That had been the plan. Until Tommy H stuck his foot out, and Gareth caught it too late.
His books were scattered across the pavement, dice bouncing in every direction. One tiny d20 rolled nearly twenty feet before coming to rest beneath a parked truck.
"Oh, my bad," Tommy said without sounding sorry in the slightest.
Gareth muttered a curse beneath his breath as he knelt to gather his things.
Eddie was already moving. "The hell's your problem?"
Jason shrugged. "Gravity."
"You tripped him," Eddie says, pointing between Jason and Tommy.
"I don't know, Munson." Tommy grinned. "Looked pretty clumsy to me."
Jeff and Dustin immediately stepped toward Gareth, helping gather his books. Eddie stood between them and Jason.
"C’mon, man. At least pick on someone with a fighting chance."
Jason smiled as he chimed in. "I am."
The shove came so fast that Eddie barely had time to react, his shoulder slamming into the side of a parked car. The metal echoed.
"Jesus, fuck—" Eddie shoved him back, causing Jason's smile to disappear.
"Oh. There he is."
The first punch caught Eddie across the jaw, causing white to explode across his vision. He stumbled back, so Andy grabbed his jacket from behind. Then, Tommy landed one on his ribs. Someone else kicked the back of his knee.
Three against one, again. He heard Dustin yelling, Jeff trying to pull somebody off, and Gareth shouting Eddie's name.
"...Enough!"
Everything stopped as a familiar voice cut through the chaos like a knife.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Eddie blinked through blurry vision and saw you.
You were marching across the parking lot faster than he'd ever seen anyone move as your backpack swung wildly against your side.
Jason scoffed. "Stay out of it."
"No."
You shoved Andy away from Eddie so hard that he stumbled backward. "I said that’s enough."
Tommy laughed. "Oh, here comes Wonder Woman."
You ignored him completely. Instead, you crouched beside Eddie. "Are you okay?"
He tried to answer, but instead, blood dripped onto his shirt. Your face tightened as you looked back up to analyze the scene: three basketball players, one bleeding boy, and his friend's reactions somewhere between horror and panic.
"You should be proud of yourselves."
Jason rolled his eyes. "He was acting insane. He pushed me for Christ's sake."
"That's bullshit."
Jason took a step closer. "What do you care?"
"I care because you three are acting like a bunch of fucking neanderthals. And for what? What the hell did he ever do to you?"
He laughed. "You really gonna defend this freak?"
You stood slowly until you were eye level with him. "I'm defending someone who can't fight three people at once."
Jason clicked his tongue. "You're wasting your time."
"No." You shook your head.
"You know..." You looked Jason up and down. "For someone who talks so much about honor..."
Your eyes drifted toward the gym. "...you sure need a lot of teammates when you throw a punch."
Jason's jaw clenched. "You should go."
"You first."
You kept your gaze fixed on Jason, putting on the best ‘don’t fuck with me today’ face you could muster.
His eyes dart between you and Eddie, a small and almost sinister grin forming. Then, he scoffed.
"C'mon. This freak show isn’t worth our spots in Friday's game.”
The last of the basketball team disappeared across the parking lot. Jason threw one final glare over his shoulder before climbing into Tommy's truck.
"...Jesus Christ." Your voice was barely above a whisper. Eddie looked up just in time to see you drop to your knees again beside him.
Your eyes darted over his face: the split lip, the scrape across his cheek, the beginnings of a bruise blooming beneath his eye.
"Dustin!" you called over your shoulder. "Go to the nurse's office!"
Dustin looked between you and Eddie before immediately taking off toward the school. "I'll get an ice pack!"
You nodded once before turning your attention back to Eddie. "Can you sit up?"
He managed a small nod even though every rib protested. You slipped an arm beneath his shoulder, helping him lean back against the brick wall of the school.
"So much for keeping your pretty face."
Eddie let out a weak laugh. "...Didn't know I had one."
You rolled your eyes. "Shut up."
Your backpack slid into your lap, frowning as you rifled through its contents. "No..." You dug deeper. "No..."
"Ah! There."
You pulled out an old black T-shirt, faded nearly gray with age. Eddie recognized the logo immediately: Iron Maiden, The Number of the Beast tour.
He blinked. "You just carry band shirts around for fun?"
"My dad leaves them in my car." You shrugged, "Guess they make good makeshift paper towels."
You hesitated. "Can I?"
He nodded before he even knew what you were asking. You folded the shirt into a small square before gently dabbing at the blood on the corner of his mouth; your touch was impossibly careful.
With your face inches from his, he’s embarrassed about how many times he imagined being this close more times than he cares to admit.
"You know..." You sighed, "...That was really stupid."
"Hm?"
"What were you thinking?" You wiped another streak of blood from his cheek. "There were three of them."
"They were picking on Gareth."
"I know."
"So..."
"So you decided to get yourself killed?"
"I wasn't gonna let them jump him."
"I know." You say with an exaggerated sigh.
You make another careful swipe of the shirt across his lip, "You don't always have to be the one who saves everybody."
He watched you instead of answering. Your brows were pulled together, bottom lip tucked between your teeth in concentration.
"Eddie?"
He hadn't realized he'd been staring. "What?"
"You okay? You keep looking at me and, like, zoning out. Do you feel dizzy?"
"Oh." His voice came out embarrassingly quiet, "Uh, no. Sorry."
"Oh." You reply, a tiny smile tugging at your lips.
“Huh?” He swallowed.
His brain screamed at him to say literally anything else. Comment on the weather. Ask about homework.
"I think I really like you."
You froze mid-wipe of his cheek, eyes quickly meeting his.
Eddie groaned and closed his eyes. "Fuck—Forget I said that."
"Oh."
Fantastic. She sounds uncomfortable. Wonderful.
"I didn't mean—"
"No." Your hand gently caught his wrist before he could keep spiraling, "I just..."
He opened his eyes, and to his delight, you were smiling.
"I've been wondering how long that was going to take."
His eyebrows knit together. "...What?"
"I was starting to think you were never going to say it."
"...Say what?"
"That."
You laughed quietly. "I've liked you for over a year, Eddie."
His brain stopped. "No, you don't."
"I do."
"You can't."
"I can."
"You..." He searched your face for the joke, "You've liked me?"
"Since you helped that freshman find the theater room on the first day of school last year."
"...That's why?"
"You spent fifteen minutes walking him around the building."
"He looked lost."
"I know." You smiled, "That's kind of my point."
He stared, then laughed, a disbelieving and breathless laugh.
"I've spent an entire year convincing myself you were completely out of my league."
"I've spent an entire year waiting for you to realize I wasn't.”
His heart nearly flew out of his chest just then.
"But then..." You shrugged, looking almost sheepish. "You bought the second homecoming ticket, so I just assumed you found someone else to ask."
"...WHAT?"
The word exploded out of him so loudly that a flock of birds scattered from the nearby trees.
You blinked. "What?"
"No!" He sat up a little too fast before immediately grabbing his ribs. "Ow—Jesus Christ."
"Eddie! Jesus, would you calm d—"
"No, no, listen." He pointed emphatically toward the school. "I bought the second ticket because you were standing there."
"...I know."
"No, I mean—" He groaned. "I wasn't thinking."
"I've noticed."
"I just wanted an excuse to keep talking to you."
You stared.
"So my brain went..." He mimed throwing something across the parking lot. "'Buy two tickets.' But uh, I didn't have a plan after that."
A laugh bubbled out of you. "So..."
He continued, growing increasingly animated. "...then Gareth asks, 'Who're you taking?'"
"And?"
"And I realized..." He buried his face in his hands. "...I had absolutely no idea what I was doing."
Your shoulders started shaking. "Oh my God..."
"I panicked."
"I can tell."
"I said I bought them for fun."
"You told them..." you managed between laughs, "'for fun?'"
"I know!"
"That's the worst lie I've ever heard."
"I KNOW."
"They believed you?"
"They absolutely did not."
You laughed even harder, and he found himself laughing, too.
"I have spent," he said through a grin, "the last four days wondering who the hell I was supposed to ask because apparently I'd already committed."
Your laughter slowly faded into something softer.
"So..." You looked at him carefully. "...Who were you planning on asking?"
He gave you the most incredulous look. "You."
"Really?"
"You literally just admitted you thought I found somebody else."
"I know, but..." You smiled. "I wanted to hear you say it."
Eddie shook his head in disbelief. "You're evil."
"A little."
"You've been letting me suffer this whole time?"
"I thought it was kind of cute."
"Oh, that's cruel."
"It was a little cruel." You say, shrugging.
He smiles the biggest smile he can muster, considering the pain shooting through what feels like every inch of his body, and releases a deep sigh.
"So..."
"So?"
He reached into the pocket of his denim vest, wincing as his bruised ribs protested.
After a second of fumbling, he pulled out the slightly crumpled orange homecoming ticket, holding it out between two fingers.
"I know this isn't exactly the most romantic timing."
You looked down at the ticket, then back up at him.
"But..." His smile turned nervous, "...would you maybe wanna go to homecoming with me?"
You could’ve just verbally said yes, but fuck that.
You broke the final inches of distance between you, your lips meeting his. He kissed you back instinctively, one hand finding your waist, smiling into the kiss. You smiled too.
"Hss—" Eddie jerked back with a sharp wince, immediately bringing a hand to his mouth.
"Oh, my God!" Your eyes went wide. "Shit! I'm so sorry!"
"No, no—" He laughed despite himself, carefully pressing two fingers against his split lip. "I just forgot I got punched."
"You idiot."
"Yeah..." A grin spread across his face, "...Worth it."
You rolled your eyes, but he caught the smile tugging at your lips.
"This time," you murmured, leaning closer again, "try not to throw yourself into it like you're storming a castle."
"I make no promises."
"I know." You cupped his cheek, much gentler now. "So let me."
This kiss was much slower; you barely brushed your lips against his at first. He practically pulled you into his airspace, completely ignoring any stinging sensation because, hell, he’d thought about this at least a thousand times.
Afterward, he rested his forehead against yours, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.
"I've wanted to do that," he admitted softly, "for... probably an embarrassing amount of time."
You laughed. "Me too."
He looked at you like he was trying to memorize your face. "So..."
"So?"
"Does this mean you'll go to homecoming with me?"
You pretended to think about it. "Hmm..."
"Don't do this to me."
"I suppose."
He let out the most dramatic sigh of relief. "Thank God."
Before you could tease him for it, he was kissing you again. His hand found your cheek, thumb brushing gently along your jaw as he smiled into it, and you smiled back.
Then you felt the subtle tension in his hand. The way his fingers tightened ever so slightly against your skin. The sharp inhale he tried, and failed, to hide.
You pulled back just enough to look at him. "You're hurting."
"I'm surviving."
"Eddie."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
He grinned, lopsided because of his split lip. "I've imagined kissing you about a thousand times."
You laughed softly.
"And not once did Jason Carver punch me beforehand."
You rolled your eyes, your thumb carefully brushing beneath the bruise blooming under his eye.
"You are unbelievable."
"I've been called worse."
"I'm sure you have."
His forehead rested against yours, his smile refusing to leave. "I don't think anything could ruin today."
"...Ahem."
The two of you froze and slowly turned your heads.
Dustin stood a few yards away, an ice pack dangling from one hand. He looked from Eddie to you, then to the fact that you were still sitting impossibly close together, practically entangled.
A slow, knowing grin spread across his face.
"...I guess you don't need that ice pack then?"
missed u guys sm:,) more coming soon, pinky promise <3
During one of Spinner late night gaming sessions, he becomes familiar with an online persona named Tomura. They talk. They get close. They plan together.
One day, Tomura’s in his house and Spinner doesn’t remember how.
Tomura claims he was invited.
Spinner doesnt remember… but why should he complain? Someone wants to talk to him.
It wants to be near him.
(i dont know when im writing the other chapters yet, i just knew if i got he first one down im more likely to complete it.)
Words: 631, Chapters: 1/3, Language: English
Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Additional Tags: Metaphysical Awareness Disorder (The Mandela Catalogue), mandela catalogue au, Tomura’s kinda like Adam in terms of being an alternate, Tomura’s an alternate, Spinners heavily guilt tripped, Spinner meets his online best friend…, in his house without warning, Tomuras TRYING guys, Spinner is heavily isolated, kinda fluff and angst?, Spinner ends up killing Tomura, Tomura is Tenko’s alternate for sixteen years, Heavy violence at the end, Spinner cant tell if Tomuras an alternate or not, even after death, kinda ooc duh-, Spinneraki, ouggghhhh, Spinners room is heavily based off of his room before meeting the Leauge in the manga, spinner jacks off in the first chapter, spinner with two dicks… OUGHHH, briefly spinner jacks off
Lasko's favourite character in Date Everything is Chance. I'm not leaving any room for arguments bc come. Of course Lasko is going to romance the living embodiment of D&D.
Harry has had quite enough of sharing his mind with someone else, thankyouverymuch. A miscast Legilimecy spell says otherwise.
Starts With A Spin by Maxine (119 K)
It started with the spin of a bottle, and now Harry and Draco have gotten themselves so far into their own game there’s almost no way out again. Except to keep playing.
Right Hand Red by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill) (73 K)
Harry felt Malfoy’s breath on his lips as they came together over the bottle, hands firmly planted on the floor as though they each needed their familiar soil, refusing to cross into enemy territory.
Except that Malfoy no longer felt like his enemy.
Malfoy felt inevitable.
The Haunting by Saras_Girl (10 K)
As Theo Nott’s study partner, Harry finds out more than he ever wanted to know about Slytherin traditions.
Code-Cracking For Gryffindors by Saras_Girl (4 K)
Harry should know better than to conceal mysterious body art from dorm-mates who pay no heed to what happened to the cat.
The Standard You Walk Past by bafflinghaze (46 K)
On returning to Hogwarts for their Eighth Year, Headmistress McGonagall decided to room Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter together. She may have hoped for a leading example of house unity; the other students fully expected insults and fights. But nothing happened.
That was, until Harry sleepwalked into Draco’s bed.
Bond by AnnaFugazzi (173 K)
I started to write this before HBP came out, and crossed my fingers that HBP wouldn’t make it totally non-canon. No such luck, I’m afraid. This, therefore, is an AU story, where (SPOILER) still teaches (SPOILER), (SPOILER) didn’t try to (SPOILER), (SPOILER) didn’t succeed in (SPOILER), (SPOILER) never dated (SPOILER), and most importantly, (MAJOR ENDING SPOILERS) never happened.
Things Worth Knowing by Femme (femmequixotic), noeon (noe) (164 K)
After the Battle, Harry thinks he’s left Hogwarts for good, but Minerva insists that all students return for an Eighth Year if they wish to sit for NEWTs in the spring, and Harry needs those NEWTs to go into the Aurors. Draco’s just grateful not to be in Azkaban. Or the Manor. He’s hoping he can steer clear of Potter this year and grapple with his own problems. Unfortunately for him, Potter appears to be one of those problems. And that’s not even addressing the fact that Potter’s got serious issues of his own, which Draco realises as he’s forced to share an Eighth Year dormitory room and several classes with the Gryffindor Git. If only they can make it through the year without killing each other, it should be all right, shouldn’t it?
Into The Closet by silver_etoile (55 K)
Harry and Draco are stuck in a closet for a night. What’s there to do? Fight, of course! And perhaps something else…
The Romantic Prawn Who Loved Christmas by bixgirl1 (39 K)
When Draco, forced into sharing a room with Potter for the year, finds out that Potter has a sleepwalking problem, he expects the odd conversations and the weird games of chess.
What comes as a complete shock are Potter’s other activities…And why he seems so intent on having Draco join him.
(Relax. It’s just like a holiday Hallmark movie! …With, uhm, sleepwanking.)
Hii! I love you so much. Can you please write a really smutty poly!mauraders with a fluffy ending? (Ignoring wormtail because I'm still mad at him.) If not it's okay, I just love your writing! 🫶
competition | poly!marauders
pairing: poly!marauders (james, remus, and sirius) x fem!reader
warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), anal, not proofread
a/n: everyone in my inbox always tells me how much they love when i make the boys bicker, especially in the bedroom, so i hope it's okay that i threw that in here a bunch :) i also don’t know if this is as smutty as you wanted, but i hope it’s okay!
────── ☾ ──────
Remus flicked the ashes of his cigarette out of the bedroom window, smoke leaving his lips along with a chuckle. "Yeah, right."
Sirius shrugged as he took a drag from his cigarette. "The results speak for themselves."
James, who didn't smoke because it would taint his athlete lungs (as he so humbly put it), propped one leg up as he backed up against the bed frame, adjusting his position on the floor. "You fucking wish."
"I could do that if I tried. You're not special, Pads. I just don't because I know it would be too much for a girl, especially around the full moon," Remus said.
"Oh here he goes again with his rough sex werewolf shit," James threw his hands up in the air, getting a laugh from Sirius.
"Never made a girl squirt though, have you? You stay jealous, Moons," Sirius challenged.
"Surely you know that we do not believe you," James said.
Sirius sighed, leaning back onto his mattress, propping himself up on his elbows. "Well, when her cum shot all over my face, it did feel pretty fuckin' unbelievable."
"Just because virgins think you're good in the sack doesn't mean you are," Remus chimed back in, "how are they supposed to know that there's so much better out there?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Sirius said, leaning back up and tilting forward in Remus's direction, "I didn't realize you have a history of fuckin' making virgins squirt. I didn't realize this topic was so familiar to you, how dare I."
"It can't be that hard to make a virgin squirt, Sirius, I'm feelin' like that's pretty easy," James said.
"The real challenge is with experienced girls," Remus said, blowing more smoke out of the window, "You think you're all that? Get back to me when you make someone impossible to please come. Not even to squirt, just to come."
Sirius diverted his gaze from Remus to James, who looked to Remus, who looked back at James, who then turned to Sirius. "That a challenge?" Sirius asked.
"Maybe it is."
"Well if I'm gonna try, you're gonna try, you fucking asshole," Sirius told Remus.
"What, is James just off the hook? We all know he can't do it anyways."
James threw his hands up again. "I can do it."
"Okay, so pick a girl," Sirius said, raising his brows in challenge.
In a mocking voice, Remus joked, "but how will we ever find a girl that sex god Sirius Black can't please?"
"You think Y/N would do it?" James asked.
"You don't think that might ruin our friendship?" Remus questioned.
"Let's review," James said, standing up and beginning to count his points on his fingers, "one, we've all been friends with her for forever, so she trusts us. Two, we all know she's got experience, and we know there's a bunch of guys who haven't been able to make her come. Three, she doesn't strike me as someone who would get attached and ruin our friendships over sex. And four, perhaps the most important of all: she's hot and we all wanna fuck her."
"How the fuck do we even broach that subject?" Sirius asked, "are we supposed to ask her to let us fuck her as a competition? Do we just try to kiss her and see where it leads? This is Y/N for fucks sake."
"Correct," Remus responded, "it`'s just Y/N. I feel like it'll be way easier to ask her than some other random girl."
"Oh, Sirius has no problem asking random girls for sex," James joked, though he was serious.
"The only reason we're friends with Y/N is because she turned you down, do you remember that, Jamie?" Sirius shot back.
"She didn't turn me down, jackass, she was in a relationship. Otherwise, I would have for sure gotten to hit that."
"Big bad James and his big bad muscles on the big bad Quidditch team, ok then," Remus joked, "irresistible to all girls. Oh wait! Except for one."
"If you're jealous of my body, Moons, just say it. This," he gestured down his torso, "takes a lot of work."
"You're really talking yourself up when my skinny ass gets more girls than you do, and more boys too, for that matter. I'm sorry, which one of us has had sex with the majority of your Quidditch team? Oh, not you? Weird," Remus responded.
“You know that fraternization on the team would be frowned upon, why would you say that when you know-“
“Oh relax,” Remus cut James off.
“Doesn’t matter how many guys you get, Moons, you still can’t make Y/N come.”
“What are we, just going off the honors system here? I already don’t believe Sirius made someone squirt, you two want me to believe you if you just say you did it? Where’s the proof?” James questioned.
“Proof? What do you want us to do, suck her cum up in a syringe, you fucking weirdo?” Remus replied.
“No no, it’s a fair point,” Sirius chimed in, “I don’t believe half the shit you tell me anyway.”
“Ok, so what do you wanna do then? Fuck her at the same time?” Remus asked.
James and Sirius exchanged a long glance.
“You two aren’t serious.”
James and Sirius both shrugged.
“I’m not fucking her with you two idiots in the room ruining it,” Remus said.
“Oh, I beg to differ,” Sirius said, “I’d only make it better. For her especially.”
“Would not.”
“Would too.”
“You think you’re such a fucking sex god-“
“It’s not a little weird to fuck the same girl at the same time? What are we gonna do, take turns?” James asked.
“She’s got three holes,” Sirius said.
“Okay, but the entire point of fucking her is to see who can actually make her come, idiot,” Remus said, “so obviously that doesn’t matter. I’m not sticking my dick somewhere that I’ll be able to feel one of yours, guys.”
“Why not?” James asked genuinely.
“Because, because-“
“Because, because, come on, Rem, it’s only weird if you make it weird. I’ve seen your dick before.”
“Me changing in front of you is not the same as us fucking someone at the same time.”
“The thought of watching her get railed by one of us doesn’t do anything for you?” James asked.
Remus blinked, unable to cohesively think of a rebuttal. “I mean.”
“Mhm,” Sirius nodded.
“Okay, so it’s agreed, we’re all gonna fuck her with the rest of us there so we have proof we aren’t lying, and we’re gonna see who can make her come,” James said.
“What if we can all make her come?” Remus asked.
“Then whoever does it first?” James tried.
“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything, I mean what if she comes harder for one of us? Once she comes it’s gonna be too easy to make her come again. Like that’s not a good gage,” Sirius said.
“No no, we share space equitably. No one hogs any part of her. Whoever makes her come first, wins,” Remus said.
“Wins what, exactly?” Sirius said.
James shrugged. “Let’s let her decide.”
────── ☾ ──────
Your gaze diverted between the three boys in front of you, your book laying open in your lap as you adjusted your cross-legged position on the common room couch. “Are you joking?”
“Nope,” said Sirius.
You processed for a few moments. “Okay, and what exactly do you get if you make me come first?” you asked.
James dipped his head and smirked. “We were uh- we were actually gonna let you decide that one.”
You raised your brows. “You were, were you?”
“…Yeah.”
You nodded your head up and down, thinking and processing. “And you all just assumed I’d say yes?”
“Honestly I don’t think we ever got that far,” Remus admitted.
“Right, right,” you said, “right.”
“You can say no, you know,” Sirius said.
You turned toward him. “I know.”
“So are you saying no?” he asked.
“No,” you replied, quicker than you anticipated.
“Are you saying yes?” Sirius pressed.
You pondered Sirius’s question. “Can I have a day or two to think about it?”
“Of course, of course,” James said.
Luckily you had plans in Hogsmeade the next day, which gave you an opportunity to give the boys an answer.
When Dorcas and Mary left the Hog’s Head early to “work on some overdue assignments,” you were left alone with the boys.
“So I have an answer for you,” you said.
“Already?” Remus said.
“Yeah, already, jackass.”
“And?”
“I’m down.”
All three boys exchanged glances. “Yeah?”
“Don’t act so surprised. You said no strings, you guys are hot, and fuck if I don’t need a good orgasm. The boys around here don’t do it for me, as you well know.” You’d tipsily told them several times how none of the boys at school could make you come.
“And you think we can?”
“If you’re really gonna try this hard, I think at least one of you has a shot. With all the sex you have? Please. If one of you can’t make me come, no one can. It’s worth a shot, and three tries is better than one.”
“Oh, so you’re using us?” Sirius joked.
“Mm, only because you guys wanted to use me first,” you lightheartedly shot back.
“Fair enough,” Sirius surrendered.
The conversation quickly shifted when butterbeers and pumpkin juices arrived, and all attention turned toward drinking games and late-night escapades.
As you walked through the cool-breezed, darkened streets of Hogsmeade, you took note of the lack of people around. You were sure the boys didn't notice.
"Where are you going?" Remus asked, watching you drift toward an alleyway.
You made a come-hither motion at the boys as you stepped into the alleyway, scanning quickly for any sign of life and finding none.
"What are you-" you grabbed Remus's face, cutting him off with a kiss. Without a second thought, Remus's hands found your waist, pulling you closer to him on instinct.
Both you and Remus were experienced enough to turn the kiss into a heated exchange quickly. You bit his bottom lip, and in turn, he took the moment of disconnection to slip his tongue into your mouth.
He took steps forward, backing you up until your back collided with the outer brick siding of Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. Remus pulled away, thinking he had slammed your body into the wall too hard, but you immediately pulled him back. His body had no choice but to respond immediately, his hand holding the side of your jaw in place as his lips traveled down to the side of your neck.
The gap of his face in front of yours allowed you time to open your eyes and see Sirius and James watching the exchange intently.
"Guess Remus is going first then?" you teased.
"No, no, that's not the arrangement," Sirius said, "we all said no hogging. We all get equal shots. Move the fuck over."
Sirius grabbed your throat and pulled you forward into a kiss, causing Remus to stumble to the side in defeat.
Remus gestured to James to do what was just done to him to Sirius, but James wasn't one to fight for attention. James was one to wait until he was wanted, and until you were begging from attention from him. He would wait his turn patiently.
"Heathens," he snickered, "let her breathe for 2 seconds, would ya?"
Sirius pulled away, but his hand remained on your throat. "I'm sorry, I don't see you winning right now, do I? Shut up and maybe you'll learn something."
He resumed kissing you, and his hand dropped from your throat, tracing down your body until it landed between your legs. He pulled away to look into your eyes. You gave him a "yes" nod to signal that you consented to his touches.
That was the moment Remus decided he was done standing there like an idiot.
He dropped to his knees directly beside Sirius, tracing his fingers tauntingly slowly up your thighs, aiming for under your house-colored skirt.
Sirius noticed his efforts, and their hands collided directly on your underwear.
Like petulant little boys, you felt Sirius smack Remus's hand away, then Remus's hand smack him back, and then Sirius pulled his hand out from under your shirt and smacked Remus on the side of the head.
"Ass," Remus said his body moving sideways, causing his hand to leave its place under your skirt, "what the fuck was that for?"
"No one said we have to play fair," Sirius replied, shoving his hand back under your skirt and cupping between your thighs.
You barely reacted apart from a small gasp.
"You really are a tough one, huh?" Sirius teased, his hand falling for a moment.
Smirking, you responded, "you wanna make me come? You're gonna have to put in the work. Unless you think you can't handle it? Too busy fucking girls and not women?"
"Working me up is only gonna make this more intense for you," Sirius taunted, "you're playing a dangerous game."
"Don't listen to him, he's a cocky fuck," James laughed from behind Sirius.
You shifted your hips and let out a small moan. Sirius thought his words were really working you up, until he looked down to see that Remus had not only snuck his way between your legs while you and Sirius were talking, but that his head disappeared under your skirt.
Sirius decided to let Remus do some of the hard work before he chimed back in to bring you to the edge, so he stepped back, crossing his arms and sighing as he stood next to James. "At least flip the skirt up for me, gorgeous."
You pulled your skirt up, bunching it up and tucking it into its own waistband, leaving Remus visible, and when he pulled away to breathe, your core as well.
Remus flicked his tongue over your clit, one hand on your hip hooking a thumb around the fabric of your underwear to keep it to the side. Your fingers intertwined into his soft curls, keeping him in place as he moved his tongue faster and faster.
"You're kinda good at this," you spoke breathily, earning a moan of acknowledgement, the vibrations adding to your pleasure.
James decided to step in, standing to your side and turning your face toward him to finally take his turn at a kiss. The kiss was slow and passionate, the intimacy of it making you even wetter for Remus between your legs. His glasses fogged up due to the heat radiating off of your body.
When James pulled away, he kept a hand under your chin to keep your eyes on him instead of Remus. Remus's unoccupied hand began to take over his tongue's spot, circling your clit as he moved his face further back, teasing your entrance.
You let out a moan, staring into James's eyes. James nodded when you made the noise. "Good girl, that feel good?"
"Mhm," you responded, moaning again.
Remus's tongue began to fuck into you, his hand still working your clit. You used your hand to press his face further into you, refusing to give up the pleasure. You so rarely were properly pleasured by men, since they were typically unfamiliar with how to actually work their way around a woman's body, but you had a feeling that at least one of these three had to know what they were doing. You hoped it would be all of them.
As far as who you wanted to win, well, you didn't really have a preference. Honestly, all of them were hot, and you would be happy coming for any of them. Of course, there was a little bit of stake in the game. They allowed you to pick the prize for whoever won. You hadn't told them yet, but the prize would be you. Consistent sex-capades with the one girl around who could truly do it for them? That's a prize in itself.
You knew they had a lot of sex. You knew they slept with a ton of people, but you also knew that they were usually the ones giving the pleasure, not receiving it. The prize? That would change.
"Fuck, Jamie," you moaned, still staring into his eyes as Remus ate you out.
Remus pulled away, his hand never stopping as he said, "that's not fucking fair, I'm the one doing the work down here. He didn't even earn his name."
"And you think you did?" James challenged.
"She's only moanin' cus of me," Remus shot back.
"Well, you clearly haven't made her come, and you've been down there long enough," James said, "my turn."
Remus had the same thought as Sirius, and opted to let James do some of the work as well.
He sighed and backed up, and James dropped to his knees.
Despite being on his knees, James gripped the back of your thighs, hoisting you up so that your thighs were resting on his shoulders. You squealed in surprise at his strength.
"You're strong," you said.
"You have no idea," he responded, gripping your ass and pushing you into his face, immediately beginning to move his tongue at a rapid pace, his head shaking back and forth from the speed.
"Oh fuck," you moaned, throwing your head back and knocking it against the brick, "fuck, just like that."
Sirius approached again, standing directly behind James an pushing his head further into you. He leaned over James and kissed you, swallowing to whimper that followed.
James refused to stop, eating you out like he was starving. Each time you made a noise that Sirius found hot, he pushed James's head harder into you. James didn't let out a single noise of protest.
You looked down and spotted Sirius's hand on James's head, forcing him to increase the pleasure his mouth was giving you, and it caused your core to flex.
"Fuck," you gasped, "oh my god, James, fuck."
"Earned his name, I see," Sirius teased, turning to Remus.
Remus pretended to act annoyed, but anyone could see his dick straining against his pants for dear life. Even if the name you moaned wasn't his, it was still hot nevertheless, and he knew it would be his name when he was the one making you come. He had no doubts. Why not let James and Sirius have a little fun first?
Part of the reason you were so hard to make come was that man didn't understand that just eating out or just penetration wasn't enough for you. These boys had no idea that as long as they remained kneeling between your legs, they were already way off.
It took ten minutes of James eating you out before he took a breath. "Fucking hell, are you close?"
You giggled. "I don't know, am I?"
Remus caught on. "You need to be fucked, huh?"
"Okay fuck you, she might actually be close," James said, but stood up anyways.
"Didn't you guys pick me because you knew it wouldn't be easy?" you asked.
James gripped your chin and pulled your face against his, trapping you in a heated kiss to remind you that he could, in fact, make you feel good.
“Up,” Remus said, snaking his arms around your thighs, prompting you to jump and wrap your legs around his hips.
You watched in the gap between your bodies as Remus pushed everything below the waist down, exposing his long, slender cock.
He gently pressed his forehead against yours, looking between your bodies as well as he lined himself up with your entrance. He waited a moment for you to revoke consent, but when you didn’t, he pushed himself into you.
You tilted your head back as he bottomed out, barely giving you any time to adjust before he started fucking you.
You locked your legs behind him, crossing your feet to keep you in place. He kept his hands under your thighs to hold you up as he fucked you, his lips trailing down to your jawline.
“Shit, Remus,” you moaned.
The use of his name only egged him on more, causing him to start fucking into you faster. “Good fucking girl, I can feel you squeezing me,” he whispered into your air.
You whined and whimpered as his cock pumped in out of you, and Remus was beginning to lose control.
You squirmed momentarily, and Remus grabbed your hand in his own, moving it over your head and pinning it against the brick wall. “Stay fucking still.”
You saw a window of opportunity, and arched your back. “Or what?” you breathily asked.
Remus nearly growled, immediately dropping your hand and wrapping his fingers around your throat. He snapped his hips harshly, not caring about the competition anymore, just caring about fucking you the hardest you’ve ever been fucked. His hand pressed your neck into the brick, rendering you unable to move your head. In tandem with deep thrusts, he repeated, “stay. Fucking. Still.”
You obeyed.
You opened your eyes and spotted James, who was covering half of his face with his hand, breathing deeply to maintain self control. The eye contact only added to your arousal, because James’s eyes were trained on you so intensely that you almost couldn’t handle it.
Your hands explored Remus’s body, feeling muscles on his arms that you couldn’t see in the light of day on his relatively skinny frame. You pawed at his hips, involuntarily trying to push each thrust even further into you.
Sirius approached you two, his cock in hand as he gently stroked himself. “Let her off the wall.”
Remus, sweaty and losing breath, removed his lips from sucking your jawline to look at Sirius. “I’m fucking occupied.”
“Let her off the wall,” Sirius repeated, “I didn’t say you had to stop fucking her.”
Remus dipped his head into the crook of your neck. “I fucking hate you,” he said, directed as Sirius, but he remembered the terms he agreed to, and knew he was hogging you. So he moved his hands to your thighs again, and stepped backward from the building, his cock still in you.
The shifting of his hips as he moved was causing stimulation without Remus even trying.
Remus turned so that your back was to Sirius, and he resumed fucking you, slower this time. His arms moved you slightly up and down to aid in his thrusts, his hips moving the best he could without you pressed against the wall.
Sirius pressed your back against his chest, his head dipping into the crook of your neck as he began to kiss your shoulder, your neck, and your jawline, until he turned your head sideways and kissed you.
You allowed your body to fall into him, Remus’s thrusts causing you to jerk upward every few seconds. Sirius fought to hold your head against his, but honestly you moving due to getting fucked only made him harder.
“You ever done this back here before?” Sirius whispered to you.
“Mhm,” you responded, barely able to speak from how hard Remus was thrusting into you.
Sirius spit into his hand and rubbed it up and down his cock, preparing himself.
“Stop for a second,” Sirius told Remus.
“Fuck no,” Remus said, lost in pleasure.
“Stop for a second or this could hurt her, dumbass,” Sirius clarified.
Remus stopped thrusting and pressed his forehead to your collarbone, catching his breath for a second and trying to stay still until he could resume movement.
Sirius lined himself up, wrapping one hand around your stomach, and using the other hand to hold your ass up as he slowly pushed himself into your ass.
You leaned your head back onto his shoulder, allowing him to take his time stretching you.
“Would you fucking hurry up?” Remus snapped, clearly annoyed.
“You can wait 10 more seconds,” Sirius replied, trying to focus on restraint.
“Shouldn’t have to, selfish fuck.”
“I’m selfish? Who just stood here fucking her without me or James getting-“
“Just fucking get to it,” Remus was losing control by the second.
“That’s what I’m doing, thank you very much.”
“It’s just like you to be cocky while you’re literally sticking your dick in-“
“Well maybe if you stopped fucking distracting me then I-“
“Would you two please shut up and fuck me?” you chimed in.
Sirius was finally bottomed out, and he tested the waters by thrusting only an inch or two at a time. Once he started a normal pace, Remus began his own relentless pace again, barely even acknowledging that Sirius was there.
When Remus thrusted in, jerking you backward, Sirius would take the opportunity to thrust forward as well, the two boys not having to move a ton because you were being tossed between their cocks, the movements giving you makeshift thrusts.
“James,” you said.
He perked up, somewhat shocked that you said his name while sandwiched between his two best friends.
“Yeah?”
“I need you to touch me,” you said.
Remus and Sirius both looked up to acknowledge what was happening, but ended up looking up directly at each other.
They stayed watching each other for a moment, their breaths staggered and their faces glistening from sweat.
Sirius reached past you and grabbed the back of Remus’s head, pulling him in.
Sirius and Remus’s lips collided directly next to you, and the sight of them kissing as they both fucked you almost did you in.
Almost. James approached your other side, not daring to interrupt the hotness of the kiss, and he placed his own soft kiss on your temple.
“You want me to touch you?” he teased.
“Please, Jamie,” you were not above pleading to get what you want.
James ran his hand down your body, which was still bouncing up and down, slowly dragging between your breast area and down your stomach. He stilled just under your skirt’s waistband.
“Ask me for it again,” James said.
“Please touch me, James, I need it so bad.”
His hand moved lower.
“How bad? You need me to make you come?”
“I need it, I wanna come, please Jamie, please.”
“Atta girl,” he said.
He kissed you as he began circling your clit with his finger. You moaned into the kiss, garnering the attention of Sirius and Remus, who breathily pulled away from one another to watch your body react to now being touched.
You leaned back against Sirius, your moans escalating in both frequency and volume.
“Oh m- fuck, I’m gonna come,” you moaned.
Sirius and Remus both began to fuck you harder, but you stopped them quickly.
“No, no, do what you were doing,” you said, “don’t escalate. Fuck me like you were.”
The boys both resumed their previous pace, and you felt the knot begin to form in your stomach.
James applied a slight bit more pressure to your clit, and you knew you were in for it.
“I’m coming, I-“
You came hard, your wetness completely coating Remus’s cock as your orgasm washed over you. It was so intense, likely from your body not being used to men making you come like this, that your legs started to shake. You would have fallen if it weren’t for two boys holding you between them.
James gradually slowed his hand down, kissing you through the orgasm to help calm you down.
Remus couldn’t help himself but join you. He hit your cervix with three brutal thrusts as he allowed himself to come, his head resting on your shoulder as he took a breath.
After you and Remus had calmed down, Sirius pulled out of you, allowing Remus to place you down. You stayed clinging onto Remus, not convinced that your legs would work after being hoisted up for so long.
Sirius had already taken a step back to finish himself off, roaring lowly as he came and painted a brick on the wall white.
That left James, who looked completely pleased and content.
“You didn’t-“
“Oh, I did,” James said, looking down.
You spotted the wet patch between his legs, and realized that James came without any stimulation of his own, but just from watching all of you and doing to you what he did.
Remus finally pulled out of you, stepping back from you and running his fingers through his hair. “Fuck.”
After a few minutes of everyone resetting and catching their breath, it was Sirius who finally asked, “so? Who won?”
“Clearly me,” James said, “she asked me to touch her, and that’s what did her in.”
“I’m sorry, whose cock was hitting her g-spot?” Remus smiled.
“It was the DP that did it, obviously, idiots,” Sirius defended himself.
They all turned to you.
“Tie.”
“No no no, it’s not a fucking tie,” Sirius said, walking back over to you, “which one of us did it for you? You have to pick one.”
“No I don’t,” you shrugged.
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t, Sirius,” you said, “I’m allowed to decide it’s a tie. I’m not in your little competition, I don’t have to follow any rules. It’s a tie.”
“But-“
“You were all fucking me at the same time, what did you expect?”
“So- so who gets whatever the winner gets, then?” James asked.
“All of you, I guess.”
“Yeah? And what do we all get?” Remus asked.
“Well, you all just came, so I guess you gotta wait,” you responded.
James raised his brows. “The prize is a blowjob? From you?”
“Yeah,” you said, “as many as you want, whatever you want with me, whenever you want, yeah.”
Remus smirked. Sirius chuckled and smiled wide, and James was still in disbelief.
Summary: Sirius Black has always been a dog—but the thing about dogs? They're loyal to only one person: Their owner
A/N: um this whole fic is just me calling sirius a dog so be prepared for that
credits to @cursed-carmine for the divider
The locker room buzzed with low voices and nervous energy. Players paced, adjusted gloves, tightened goggles, cracked knuckles. The scent of polish, sweat, and adrenaline filled the air. Green and silver glinted off every surface, and somewhere above, the distant roar of the crowd was beginning to rise.
You stood in front of your team, arms crossed over your chest, chin held high, calm as ever.
And when you spoke, the room snapped to attention.
"Alright. Listen up."
Voices cut off immediately. All eyes turned to you.
“You hit hard. You fly clean. No stunts unless I call them. You’ve worked your asses off for weeks—rain, snow, bruises, broken brooms—and today, it pays off.”
You paced slowly, gaze locking with your Beaters, your Chasers, your Keeper. One by one. Like loading a weapon.
“We’re going to show them—without a single inch of doubt—who’s taking the Quidditch Cup home this year.”
You let that hang, the tension curling in your teammates’ shoulders like springs wound tight.
Then your voice dropped, sharp and cutting:
"We're going to send those bleeding badgers crying back to their mummies."
That broke the tension. Laughter and jeers rippled through the room, players bumping shoulders, fists meeting palms with dull thuds of anticipation.
You smirked.
Held out your hand.
“Let’s turn those badgers black and blue.”
One by one, gloves slammed down over yours.
“Slytherin!”
You were carried into the infirmary without protest by Mulciber, allowing him to gently lower you onto the bed. Without saying much else, you interlaced your fingers neatly over your lap, settling in as you waited for Madam Pomfrey to arrive.
She seemed preoccupied with the other beds, where four more occupants were already receiving care.
“Nasty fall, (L/N)?” Potter’s voice broke through the quiet, a teasing edge to it, “Would hate for you to miss out on Quidditch for the rest of the season.”
You smirked, “You’d love that, wouldn’t you, Potter? But sadly, no—just caught a nasty Bludger to the side when I grabbed the Snitch. So, I guess you Lions have no choice but to lose to us eventually.”
Your eyes flicked past him to the bed beside where Remus Lupin lay, looking far worse off than the rest of the Marauders—pale and sweaty, with Madam Pomfrey fussing over him. Without realizing, your lips pouted, curiosity flickering as you wondered what had gone wrong to land all four of them in the hospital wing.
Before you could study his wounds more closely, your line of sight was blocked by another presence.
Black.
Compared to the others, he looked almost unharmed, hands on his hips as he stared down at you with a cocky smirk.
“You haven’t given me an ounce of your attention, princess,” He said, voice dripping with amusement, “Only bantering with my best mate and mooning at Moony. Should I be offended?”
“Wasn’t aware I owed you my attention, Black.”
His grin widened. Typical.
It wasn’t the first time your sharp tongue had reeled him in like this, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Sirius Black didn’t know how to leave well enough alone—and you had no intention of making it easy for him.
Merlin, he lived for it.
Before he could come up with something clever in return, Madam Pomfrey appeared at your side with a soft cluck of her tongue and a no-nonsense look in her eyes.
“Caught a Bludger, did you?” She muttered, her tone clipped as she summoned a vial and some bandages from a nearby shelf, “You lot play like it’s war.”
“I think anyone can admire the dedication to the game, Madam Pomfrey.” You replied mildly.
“Not when it might break your ribs, Miss (L/N).” She snapped.
Then, more gently, “Lift your shirt. Let’s see the damage.”
You didn’t hesitate—casually unbuttoning the lower half of your Quidditch jersey and lifting your shirt just enough to reveal the mottled bruise blooming along your side. It was ugly—deep and dark with angry purple edges, already beginning to swell.
His eyes darted instinctively toward the injury, then immediately away—head turning sharply to the side, jaw tight. His entire body went rigid, as if even the suggestion of your bare skin had turned his brain to static.
You smirked, voice syrup-sweet, “What’s the matter, Black? Shy?”
“I’m many things,” He muttered, ears tinged faintly red, “but I am trying to be respectful. For once.”
Your eyes flicked to him just once. He was still looking away—but his jaw was tight, his shoulders tense, and you could feel the heat of his focus even if it wasn’t on your bare skin anymore.
When Pomfrey finally stepped back, she wiped her hands briskly on her apron and nodded, “You’ll bruise badly, but the swelling will ease by morning. Try not to exacerbate it for the time being."
"Understood. Thank you." You replied, voice even.
You slid off the edge of the bed with fluid grace, smoothing your jersey back into place with a flick of your fingers.
You nodded once toward her retreating form in quiet thanks, then turned to go.
You were hardly surprised when Sirius followed you out.
After weeks of this little push and pull—this dangerous game you’d both been playing—you weren’t even remotely surprised that he’d finally snapped the leash you’d had so delicately wrapped around his neck.
So now, here you were. Back pressed to the cold, rough stone of a quiet Hogwarts corridor, Sirius’s arms caging you in like he was the predator in this scenario.
But the truth was clear.
You were the one in control.
You didn’t flinch. Didn’t gasp. You just blinked at him—slow, deliberate, almost lazy. And though your expression was frustratingly unreadable, there was something ghosting over your lips that drove him mad. A smirk that wasn’t a smirk. A glimmer of smugness that you refused to make obvious. It was maddening. Intoxicating.
Had it been anyone else he’d backed into a wall like this, they’d have giggled, blushed, reached up to tangle their fingers in his hair with wide eyes and parted lips.
But not you.
Your hands were tucked neatly behind your back like you were entertaining a child’s tantrum, waiting for him to exhaust himself. Always poised. Always untouchable. Always in control.
And God, it was driving him insane.
What he wouldn’t give to be caught in the eye of your storm—while the world bent and broke around you, you’d remain untouched, divine. He wanted to be yours. Completely. Worshipfully. Pathetically.
“What do you say we stop pussyfooting around and go on a date, (L/N)?” He asked, his voice low and rough with the effort it took to sound casual.
At that, you smiled—finally, a real smile, sly and slow like honey sliding down a knife.
“Sorry, Black,” You said, tone sweet as poison, “I don’t think I’d be interested.”
His brow twitched. “That’s not what you’ve been signalling these past few weeks.” He muttered, leaning in—just enough to try and catch your lips with his. Only to feel your finger press firmly to his mouth, stopping him dead.
He stared at you, lips brushing your fingertip, pupils blown. His breath caught, chest rising sharply. His eyes dropped to your mouth again and he clenched his jaw tight enough to ache—because if he didn’t, he might actually whine. Might beg.
“Why not?” He asked, voice hoarse and low, barely more than a whisper now.
You tilted your head, your smile that of a cat watching a bird flutter too close to the ground.
“I’m a very jealous woman, Sirius,” You said, voice light, playful—deadly, “And I have a reputation to uphold. Can’t have you embarrassing me with all your… side chicks.”
He swallowed hard. The words hit like a slap and a caress. His brain fogged. The rush of blood thundered in his ears, and the air between you crackled.
You pouted suddenly, lips pursed in a way that made his knees threaten to buckle. And then—casually, cruelly—you reached up and gave his cheek a light pat.
“Sorry, puppy.”
And with that, you slipped out from under his arm like water through fingers, walking away without looking back.
Sirius stood frozen, throat dry, staring as your hips swayed down the corridor.
Utterly wrecked.
Something changed after that night in the corridor.
Well—he did.
Not immediately, of course. First, he sulked. Dramatically. Unproductively. For a good day and a half.
He spent most of it brooding in the Gryffindor common room, staring into the fireplace like it had personally betrayed him, ignoring three different girls who tried to sidle up beside him and ask what was wrong. (The fourth didn’t bother asking—just sat herself on his lap. That earned her a single-word dismissal and a truly withering look.)
But after that?
He changed.
The flirting stopped. The lingering touches in alcoves, the smug little smirks in the corridors, the midnight broom closet rendezvous—all gone. He stopped accepting folded notes spritzed with cheap perfume and sealed with lipstick kisses. Stopped tossing winks like knuts. Stopped acting like every hallway was a catwalk and every girl in Hogwarts his audience.
The last girl he even entertained—a sweet, overeager Hufflepuff fifth-year who tried to earn his attention by helping him with Transfiguration homework—had burst into tears when someone joked that she must have “turned him gay.”
He just wasn’t interested anymore.
Because for once in his life, Sirius Black didn’t want meaningless sex.
He wanted you.
And the castle knew it.
Even though you hadn’t spared him so much as a glance since that night in the corridor. Even though you walked past him in the Great Hall like he was furniture.
Everyone still knew.
Which meant, of course, all eyes had turned to you.
Wondering when you’d notice.
Wondering when you’d give in.
Or whether, as Sirius feared most of all…
You never would.
You loved partying.
Loved the bass so loud it rattled your ribs, the way lights flickered like spells mid-duel, the sway of bodies pressed close on the dance floor. You loved shaking ass with your friends, loved the wild screams and clinks of raised glasses. Loved the moments where you stepped back, drink in hand, watching it all unfold—cataloguing the gossip in real time. Who was kissing who. Who shouldn't be. Who’d be crying in the bathroom by midnight.
But there was a distinct difference when the party was thrown in your honor.
The moment you stepped into the Slytherin common room, the room erupted. Cheers ricocheted off the walls, your little black dress catching the green and silver lights just right, and your open jersey—your surname stitched in bold—billowed like a cape.
You’d never been prouder of that name.
Not until Remus’s voice boomed over the speakers earlier that day, full of awe:
“(L/N) has made the miraculous catch of the Snitch—Slytherin wins!”
The memory played over and over in your head as your teammates lifted you onto their shoulders, parading you through the room like the queen you were. You laughed, kissed the golden Snitch in your hand, and smudged your lipstick across it with zero shame.
The party moved on around you, wild and electric, and you eventually found yourself perched on a velvet ottoman, nursing a drink and watching the chaos unfold with your usual sharpened gaze—until the Marauders appeared.
“Good game, (L/N),” James grinned, raising his cup, “That was some mighty flying. Looking forward to beating you in the finals.”
You scoffed, but smiled, “Thanks, Potter. Though I can’t see you being this cordial when Slytherin mops the floor with you.”
Then your gaze slid to Sirius, who hadn’t spoken yet.
“I’m surprised this is the first time you’ve come over tonight, Black,” You purred, circling your finger around the rim of your glass lazily.
He grinned, wolfish and easy, “Didn’t want to be just another forgettable face in a crowd of nobodies.”
You chuckled, “Sure you didn’t just forget about me? Busy fending off your admirers, I’m sure.”
He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to that gravelly register that drove you mad, “Sweetheart, everyone here knows there’s only one person I have eyes for.”
You were about to volley something back—something sharp and slick and just flirtatious enough to make him twitch—when the atmosphere cracked with a loud crash and an even louder voice.
“IT WAS A FLOP!”
Across the room, Ravenclaw’s captain, Muccullen—clearly drunk and still stinging from his loss today—was making an embarrassing scene.
“I would’ve caught that damn Snitch if the snakes didn’t play dirty!” He barked, sloshing firewhisky onto the carpet.
You barely blinked. Just raised a brow, unimpressed, letting his tantrum unfold like a child kicking their legs in a supermarket.
“(L/N) thinks she’s all that,” He continued, voice rising, “but that stupid bitch just got lucky!”
Now that made your brow twitch.
You weren’t planning to dignify it with a response. But then Sirius was suddenly in front of you, jaw tight, a quiet fury radiating off him like a pulse.
“Watch your mouth.”
Muccullen blinked slowly, swaying. “If it isn’t her mangy mutt,” He slurred, sneering, “You’re just as pathetic, Black. Chasing after her like a dog when she doesn’t even want you. Face it—the only reason she gets anywhere in life or on that bloody broom is ’cause that slag keeps guys like you wrapped around her finger.”
That much was true. Sirius was so tightly wrapped around your finger you could flick it and he’d bark.
Which is why Muccullen shouldn’t have been surprised when Sirius grabbed him by the collar.
You stepped forward then, calm and unbothered, resting a single hand on Sirius’s arm.
“Down, boy.”
His grip loosened—just barely. But it was enough.
You turned your gaze on Muccullen, voice cool and dangerous.
“You really know how to ruin a party, don’t you, Muccullen?” You said smoothly, “I won today because I was faster. Simple as that. You don’t want to get pummeled by Bludgers while chasing the Snitch? That’s a conversation to have with your Beaters. Go sober up. Losing on the Quidditch pitch is one thing. This? This is just pathetic.”
Sirius shoved him back as he let go, and Muccullen stumbled off with the grace of a wounded troll.
You exhaled, turning to Sirius.
And yeah… he looked hot.
Leather jacket clinging to broad shoulders. Hair a bit mussed. Breathing heavy like he wanted someone to give him an excuse to finish the fight. All for you.
He looked good defending your honor. Too good.
You sipped your drink with finality, “Well. On that note, I’m gonna turn in for the night.”
Sirius visibly deflated, like a puppy who’d been told no to a treat.
“Yeah, my roommates are gonna be partying all night,” You added, giving a theatrical sigh, “Figured I might enjoy the empty dorm for once.”
You nodded to Remus and James—who were both looking equally exhausted and wildly entertained—and started walking toward the staircase.
But you didn’t make it far before glancing over your shoulder.
Sure enough, Sirius was already staring.
You smirked. Winked.
And then you lifted your hand, curled a single finger.
Come.
His face lit up. Like Christmas and fireworks and every wish he’d never said out loud just came true.
Behind him, James cackled. Remus shook his head, amused.
“Go on, lover boy!” James shouted, slapping him on the back.
And Sirius? He sprinted.
By the time he caught up, you were outside your dorm, and his arms were already curling around your waist as you let out a soft giggle.
He buried his face in your neck, breath hot, lips brushing your skin.
“You better take me out on a date tomorrow.” You murmured.
He smiled against your throat, “Anywhere. Anytime. Just say the word.”
Bonus:
If anyone had ever been afraid of the Marauders—afraid of Sirius Black, the uncollared dog of Gryffindor House, heir to the House of Black, all sharp teeth and dangerous smirks—all they had to do was witness how he behaved with his girlfriend.
The only girl who’d ever managed to train him.
It was almost comical, the way Sirius’s entire face lit up the second he spotted you in the Gryffindor common room. His smirk melted into a wide, boyish grin, wild grey eyes softening like morning light breaking through fog.
“Baby!” He practically shouted, immediately abandoning James mid-sentence and sprinting across the room like a man possessed.
Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees before your armchair, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head in your lap like it was the safest place in the world.
You giggled—an uncharacteristic sound, at least to everyone else. But for Sirius, it was as familiar as his own heartbeat. You ran your fingers through his thick dark hair, nails scratching gently along his scalp, and Sirius all but purred, sighing into the space between your thighs like the tension had been holding him hostage all day.
“What are you doing here?” He mumbled, voice muffled against your legs.
“Class ended early,” You replied smoothly, a smile tugging at your lips, “and I wanted to see my favourite boy.”
Sirius groaned dramatically, turning his head to press soft, reverent kisses to the inside of your wrist, right against your fluttering pulse. Like he was grounding himself with the feel of your blood beneath his lips.
Across from you, James flopped onto the couch with a snort, “Merlin, (L/N), you’ve got him trained better than a show dog.”
You didn’t even look up from Sirius as you smiled, sharp and slow.
“Oh, she knows.” Remus added from his spot by the fireplace, flipping a page in his book with a smirk.
Sirius hummed, clinging tighter to your waist like he couldn’t stand to be even a millimeter away.
You leaned back in the armchair, letting him sprawl across your lap like a pampered prince, fingers carding through his hair as if you had all the time in the world.
“You’re clingy today.” You murmured, not unkindly.
“Missed you.” Sirius said simply, lifting his head just enough to look at you—like you hung the bloody moon.
You raised an eyebrow, tapping your nails against his jaw, “Did something happen?”
He pulled one of your hands to his mouth again, pressing a kiss to each knuckle like it was sacred ritual, “Nah. Just tired of pretending not to be obsessed with you.”
“Well, you’re doing a shit job of hiding it.” James snarked.
“I know.” He replied, unapologetic.
To be added to a taglist, please send me an ask! (I might respond to you in comments but I can’t guarantee that I won’t accidentally miss it)
synopsis: shifting for the first time to surprise your boyfriends leaves you a whirlwind of nerves, but with the guidance of your closest companions, you discover an animagus form that feels entirely, unexpectedly like you.
warnings: sweetheart!reader, r is shy and anxious, r is best friends with regulus and barty, animagus transformation, magic, snow, fluff, panic and anxiety, seasonal cold/snow, mild self-doubt, feelings of nervousness and vulnerability.
You stand nervously in the middle of the snow, your breath rising in small clouds as it meets the crisp winter air. Every nerve in your body feels alive, tingling with anticipation and fear.
Pandora and Regulus are both staring at you, their expressions calm but attentive, while you panic and spiral quietly to yourself.
Your thoughts feel heavy, though you are still very much yourself, very much human, in this moment.
“It is completely normal to feel nervous during your first transformation,” Pandora says gently, kneeling slightly in the snow to be closer to your level.
“Especially when you do not even know what your Animagus will be.”
You shake your head, panic prickling in your chest. “I… I don’t know if I can do this,” you admit, your voice trembling. Your hands fidget with the cuff of your sleeve. “What if I fail? What if I hurt myself?”
Regulus steps a little closer, his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat, his expression composed yet firm. “You will not hurt yourself,” he says, his voice low, carrying a quiet certainty. “I know you. You are careful, and precise. Even your first attempt will not be dangerous.”
Your eyes widen as worry twists in your stomach. “But what if my Animagus is dangerous? What if it is something wild or… I don’t know… something I cannot control?”
Regulus lets out a short, amused chuckle. “You are my best friend. You would not be capable of producing anything dangerous. And honestly, I would not be surprised if it turns out to be something completely harmless. Likea butterfly.”
You pout, shoulders tense, feeling a little relief at his attempt at humor but still trembling. “I don’t know how to transform. What if I just… cannot do it?”
Pandora opens her notebook carefully, the pages crisp against the cold air. “Don’t worry,” she says, flipping to the page she has marked.
“We will go through the instructions step by step. Focus on your breathing. Relax your muscles. Visualize the form you wish to take. Imagine every part of your body shifting, folding, and changing until it feels natural.”
Regulus crouches slightly beside you, watching you carefully, his dark eyes bright with encouragement.
“The first time I transformed,” he says, a faint grin tugging at his lips, “I became a cat. Tiny, soft, and like a black shadow. I hid under the couch for hours because I was terrified I would break something or scare someone. But I learned to control it. You will, too. It is just a matter of patience and practice.”
You bite your lip, your gaze dropping to the untouched snow beneath your feet. “It still feels… impossible.”
Pandora reaches out and gently rests a hand near your shoulder, careful not to startle you. “Nothing worth doing comes without some fear. It is natural. The important part is that you try. That you don’t give up on yourself before you even begin.”
Regulus leans a little closer, lowering his voice to something almost conspiratorial. “I will be right here watching and making sure nothing goes wrong. I promise. And if it does… well, we will handle it together.”
You take a deep breath, feeling the crisp winter air fill your lungs, and step carefully back onto the thin ice near the edge of the frozen stream. You pull your scarf tighter, though it is heavy and awkward against your suddenly smaller frame.
Pandora kneels a few steps away, her notebook still in her hands. She tilts her head slightly, watching you with gentle patience. “Remember the steps,” she says softly.
“Relax. Focus. Visualize. You have worked for months for this. You can do it.”
You tense your muscles, every fiber of your body trembling, and let the magic flow. It begins at your toes, a strange tickling warmth that moves up your legs.
The sensation is dizzying, surreal, like every bone and muscle is bending in impossible ways. Your heart pounds, and you stumble on the ice, flailing slightly before your hooves catch.
When the shift is over, you stare down. Your hooves press into the snow, delicate and firm. Your legs feel both fragile and alive. You take a small, tentative step and then another, testing balance and coordination.
The cold snow presses against your fur, sparkling on the tips of your coat.
You flick your ears nervously, eyes wide, and glance toward Pandora and Regulus.
Their reactions hit you like a shock. Pandora gasps softly. “Oh… my…” Her eyes are wide, full of awe.
Regulus steps closer, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, though his voice carries a quiet wonder. “Incredible,” he says, crouching slightly.
Your tail flicks nervously, and you back up a few steps toward the frozen stream. You pause at the edge and lower your head toward the ice, sniffing, trying to understand yourself in this body.
The reflection that stares back at you makes your chest tighten with disbelief. Small, wide eyes, soft brown fur, and delicate white spots across your back.
A little deer.
You paw at the snow, testing your legs, and take a careful step forward, then another, discovering the agility in your new form.
Pandora tilts her head, eyes widening with so much joy that she practically glows. Her breath bursts out in a delighted cloud as she claps both hands over her mouth.
“Oh my god, you are like a little fawn!” she squeals, bouncing on her toes as if she cannot contain the excitement. “Look at you! You are tiny and spotted and absolutely precious!”
She crouches down a little, leaning closer with shining eyes.
Regulus chuckles lightly, crouching so he is level with your eyes. “I would never have guessed, but it suits you.”
Your ears twitch at every sound—the whisper of the wind, the crunch of snow beneath Regulus’ boots, the distant caw of a bird.
A tiny, excited leap carries you forward, snow spraying around your hooves. Your movements are clumsy but joyful, and a little thrill of freedom surges through you.
Pandora claps her hands softly, and Regulus leans back, eyes bright with amusement and pride.
The snow, the forest, the cold, the magic;; it all feels like it is yours, in this moment, completely and beautifully yours.
The second you shift back into your human body, you stumble straight onto your knees in the snow. A rush of wild exhilaration bursts through your chest, so powerful you can barely breathe.
I did it!” you gasp, practically choking on your own smile. “I did it, I did it! Pandora, Regulus, did you see that?”
You don’t even wait for an answer. You throw yourself at Pandora so fast she lets out a startled squeal of laughter as she catches you.
“You did it, sweetheart!” she cries, gripping your shoulders and shaking you a little in excitement. “You were amazing! I knew you would get it!”
You shake with excitement and cling to her a moment longer before turning and launching yourself at Regulus.
He stands with his arms half-raised, pretending he is not expecting it, although his eyes soften the moment you collide with him.
“Regulus!” you gasp, grabbing the front of his coat and practically bouncing on your feet. “i was a deer—a real deer! with spots and hooves and everything!”
His arms come around you slowly, steady and grounding, as if he wants to hold onto your excitement without letting it overwhelm you. His voice is low, smooth, calm.
“I know,” he says. “I saw the entire thing.”
You pull back a little, cheeks flushed, breath quick. “Did I look strange? Did I look ridiculous?”
He tilts his head, meeting your worried gaze, and a small, almost imperceptible smile touches his lips. “No. You were amazing,” he says softly. “Even when if the transformation was a little sloppy, it was perfect. You handled it better than anyone could have expected.”
You cover your face with your hands, heart pounding, and he gently moves your fingers aside, brushing snow from your hair.
“But you were also adorable,” he adds quietly. “A very, very adorable deer.”
You couldn’t help but feel giddy on the inside at Regulus’s praise.
He may have been your best friend and closest companion, but it was rare for Regulus, of all people, to show any emotion at all—let alone let his pride seep through the cracks of his carefully maintained walls.
A word of praise from Reggie, meant the world to you. It made your chest feel lighter, your heart warmer, and every bit of hard work you’d poured into becoming an Animagus feel completely worth it.
Pandora laughs again, brushing snow off your sleeve. “You should be proud. What a beautiful Animagus form.”
Regulus steps back and lifts one eyebrow. “Well then. Off you go, amour. Go show your boyfriends before you burst from excitement.”
You gasp dramatically and clutch Pandora’s hands. “We have to go. I need to tell them right now.”
Pandora squeezes your hands with the same excitement. “Go. They will be thrilled.”
****
“James!” you call the moment you burst into the common room.
You don’t even wait for him to answer — you grab his wrist with both hands and start tugging. “Come on, come on, come on, I need to show you something!”
James barely has time to blink. “Merlin, love— what’s got into you?” He’s stumbling after you, curls bouncing, but he’s already smiling because you’re smiling.
“Sirius!” you call over your shoulder. “Remus! Get over here!”
A groan answers you from the couch. “It’s snowing,” Sirius complains, dramatically wrapping himself tighter in a blanket. “Do you know what snow does to my hair?”
“You’ll survive!” you say, breathless and glowing. “Please, Pads, it’s really— really— really important.”
Before Sirius can argue again, Remus appears from the hallway, book still in hand, scarf slung over his arm. He takes one look at you, practically vibrating with joy, and his whole expression softens.
He steps forward and gently cups your face with both cold hands. “Dovey,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb over your cheek, “take a breath. You’re shaking.”
“I know,” you say, grinning so hard your eyes crinkle. “I’m sorry— I just— it’s important, Moony.”
“No apologizing.” He smiles faintly. “Just slow down enough so we can keep up with you.”
“Right— right, okay,” you say, even though you’re still bouncing a little on your toes.
Sirius slinks over now, muttering under his breath, blanket still draped around him like a cape. “This better be worth frostbite.”
“It is,” you say, nearly squealing.
James squeezes your hand, brows raised in playful intrigue. “Are we going to pull a prank? Because if this is about causing some trouble, I’d like to mentally prepare first.”
“No! Well— no. Not this time.” You tug him closer. “It’s a surprise.”
Remus lets out a small, fond sigh and flicks his wand. Scarves whoosh out of his bag and wrap themselves neatly around each of your necks, warm as a cup of tea.
“If we’re going out,” he says, adjusting yours with gentle fingers, “we’re doing it without any of you getting sick.”
Sirius brightens immediately as the warmth hits him. “You should’ve led with the free winter gear,” he says, looping his scarf twice. “Very persuasive.”
“Alright,” James says, squeezing your shoulders, “where to, sweetheart?”
“Outside,” you say, practically glowing. “Hurry!”
Sirius opens the door with a flourish, snow drifting in on a soft, icy breeze.
You step into the center of the courtyard, breath puffing in front of you in little clouds. The boys stand a few feet away, bundled in their scarves, waiting.
But now that they’re actually here, watching you… your heart stutters. Nerves flutter in your stomach. You take a small step back.
Sirius tilts his head, a curious smile tugging on his lips.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he teases, “what is it you’re dying to show us?”
James laughs breathlessly. “Yeah, love, you’re scaring us a little.”
You swallow, nod once, inhale deeply—
And then you shift.
The world ripples around you, magic curling over your skin like warm light, and in a blink, you’re standing on four legs in the snow.
A small, soft deer with your fur dusted with flakes, breath steaming in the cold.
Three pairs of eyes widen dramatically.
For one perfect moment, silence.
Then—
James absolutely screams.
“Holy— Merlin’s scruffy stag— when— how— what—!”
James grabs Sirius’s arm, his eyes wide as if holding onto someone might help him process what he just saw.
Sirius stays frozen, mouth slightly open, completely still, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.
Remus just blinks, taking a moment to register it all, his expression caught somewhere between shock and awe.
You stamp your little hooves impatiently, looking at them with wide, pleading eyes, as if to say, Well??
James is the first to find his voice, stumbling over words in his excitement.
“When did you even—how did you go through the Animagus process without us knowing— ”
You can’t help it. The thrill of it, the joy of finally revealing yourself, bubbles out uncontrollably, and you jump, bouncing in the snow, spinning and hopping with excitement.
And suddenly Remus breathes out a stunned laugh. “Oh, sweetheart— come here—”
You don’t even let him finish. You gallop straight toward him and tackle him into a soft drift of snow. He goes down with a yelp and then bursts into laughter, wrapping his arms around your warm neck.
“Okay— alright— alright— you’re heavy like this—” he wheezes, still grinning up at you. “Merlin, you’re beautiful.”
You nuzzle his cheek before prancing away, hooves crunching through the fresh layer of snow.
James is already crouched, eyes wide with pure awe and giddy pride.
“Look at you!” he gushes, one hand reaching out carefully to stroke between your ears. “You’re perfect. D’you know that? Absolutely perfect.”
You lick his sleeve and he laughs like a little kid.
Then you turn to Sirius.
He hasn’t moved at all.
He’s standing like someone hit him with Petrificus Totalus, except his eyes are huge and soft and the tips of his ears are pink from the cold.
You trot up to him and blink up at him with wide doe eyes.
He inhales sharply. “Oh… oh no,” he whispers. “You’re— you’re literally the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”
He drops to his knees instantly, hands hovering like he’s afraid to break you.
“I have so many questions— so many— but I can’t think right now because your little face is attacking my soul.”
You poke his side with your velvety nose.
He giggles. “Oh, that’s illegal— don’t look at me like that— Bloody hell, you’re adorable—”
He finally wraps his arms around your neck, burying his face into your fur. “I’m never letting you be human again.”
You snort loudly, which makes him laugh even harder.
And then—
James shifts into his stag beside you, tall and magnificent, nudging your shoulder with a joyful snort.
Sirius rolls his eyes, stands up, and transforms in a smooth wave of magic — a huge black dog shaking snow from his fur.
You squeak (or… whatever the deer equivalent of a squeak is) and immediately bolt across the courtyard.
Prongs and Padfoot charge after you, hooves and paws thundering through the snow.
Remus stays human, arms crossed, scarf fluttering in the wind, laughing helplessly as you dart behind him for protection.
He places one steady hand on your back.
You press closer to Remus, hiding half behind him, peeking out just enough to flick your ears at the two troublemakers.
Remus laughs and pats your side.
“My brave girl,” he teases softly. “Hiding behind the man who can’t even shift.”
You nudge him indignantly.
Padfoot and Prongs are still waiting for another chase, but both of them stay where they are when Remus places one calming hand on your back.
“It’s alright,” he murmurs. “Take your time. Whenever you are ready.”
You close your eyes. The magic rises again, warm and familiar now, like sunlight curling through your limbs. Your shape shifts. Your hooves sink into the snow and dissolve. Your fur pulls inward. The world tilts once, gently, and then settles.
You are human again.
Your knees fold, and you collapse forward into Remus’s chest, breath coming out in a startled gasp.
His arms tighten instantly, closing around you with a fierceness that makes your heart swell.
Remus’s hand rests lightly on your back, his voice soft as he leans down. “You alright?”
You lift your head just enough to meet his gaze, still flushed and breathless, and nod. “Yeah.”
Then, with a little nervous grin, you stare up at him. “Soooo… what do you think?”
He lets out a quiet, fond chuckle, brushing a hand through your hair. “I think… you’re amazing.”
You peek up at him through the scarf, a little shy but still glowing with excitement. “You… really think so?”
“I do,” Remus says quietly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “You were incredible. All of it. I’m proud of you.”
Your chest swells, and you can’t help the soft, delighted laugh that escapes you. “Thank you… I was so worried you’d think it was silly or—”
Before you can finish, a loud chorus breaks through the calm.
“There she is!” James cries, barreling through the snow toward you, his hair dusted with flakes, a grin plastered across his face.
“You have an unbelievable amount of explaining to do, darling,” he announces, although his voice is far too warm to be truly scolding.
You giggle and pull your scarf close, cheeks warm despite the cold. Remus keeps one arm wrapped firmly around you as if he refuses to let you go now that you are back in human form.
“I know,” you say, still breathless and glowing. “I know I should’ve told you sooner. I just… needed to be sure. I didn’t want to say anything until I knew it was real.”
James’ brows lift, but his eyes are nothing but warm. “So all of this… has been going on for a while, then?”
You nod, hands twisting together for a moment before you make yourself meet their eyes. “A little over a month. Pandora helped me with the theory — she’s brilliant, honestly — and she was so patient with me. Every single time I messed up, she just tried again with me.”
Sirius snorts softly, though his smile is fond. “Of course she did. Pandora Lovegood could teach a rock to dance if she felt like it.”
You laugh, cheeks warming. “And Regulus helped too with the practical pieces. Making sure I didn’t try anything too reckless. He’s… very steady. He kept me grounded.”
James hums under his breath, impressed. “So he knew before we did.”
“Only by an hour!” you say quickly, as if it matters. “Today was the first time anything actually worked. And as soon as it did, I ran straight here.”
That earns you three different smiles, all of them soft.
Sirius nudges your shoulder gently. “Good. Because seeing you turn into that little deer might be the cutest thing that has ever happened in my entire life.”
You hide your face in your hands for a second, which only makes James laugh and pull your hands back down so he can see you. “Hey,” he says softly, “none of that. We’re amazed. That’s all.”
Remus’ hand finds its place on your back, slow and steady, his touch radiating reassurance. “You did something incredibly difficult, love,” he murmurs. “And you did it beautifully.”
Your breath catches in your throat, not because of nerves this time, but because of how full your chest feels.
You end up pulled into all three of them at once, completely surrounded and impossibly warm despite the snow drifting around your boots.
James presses a kiss to your cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”
Remus tightens his hold just slightly, voice low against your ear. “We all are.”
Sirius rests his chin on your shoulder. “Our little Bambi,” he says with a grin you can hear.
You let out a tiny laugh, too flustered to hide it. “Bambi?”
James grins. “Well, we can’t exactly keep calling you dovey now that we know you’ve been prancing around the forest behind our backs.”
Remus leans in slightly, his breath warm against your temple. “So,” he murmurs, a subtle smile in his voice, “do you want us to stick with dovey… or should we be calling you Bambi now?”
Your cheeks warm immediately. You duck your head a little, trying not to smile too widely.
“I don’t know,” you say honestly, the words coming out softer than you intend. “Either one is fine.”
Sirius snorts lightly. “That’s not an answer.”
You laugh under your breath, nudging him with your shoulder. “I don’t have a preference,” you admit, eyes flicking between all three of them. “If it’s from you, I’ll like it.”
James’ smile softens, warm enough to melt the snow still clinging to your coat.
“Well then,” he murmurs, brushing a bit of snow from your hair, “come on, Bambi. Let’s get you inside before you freeze.”
feat. Draco Malfoy x roommate!reader x Harry Potter
summary: all your friends come over for dinner party at your shared flat. little do they know, you've been fucking your roommates in secret for weeks. when one of them makes a move on you, your boys decide to remind you who you belong to.
cw: MDNI 18+, smut, spit roasting, mfm, praise kink, switch!Harry, dom!draco, drinking, smoking, fluff, guyliner, Draco's a slut
masterlist
Crossed legged on your vanity stool, you set down your blush and accessed your reflection. Too pink? Not enough?
“Looks gorgeous, baby.” A voice interrupted your pondering, low and sweetened with affection—Harry.
“It's not too much?” You asked, turning to look at him. He was leaned against the doorway, a pink wine cooler in his hand, already dressed for the party starting in over an hour. A white t-shirt, undone flannel, and light wash jeans, black hair messy and a little overgrown.
He had no business looking so effortlessly hot all the time.
“Definitely not too much.” He pushed off the door jam and crossed the room to you, setting the drink on the vanity for you. “Your makeup always looks perfect,” he said, tilting your chin up to get a closer look, his fingers cold from the bottle. “I like the, uh—the pink stuff.” He tapped the apple of your cheek gently with his pointer finger.
“Blusher,” you supplied. “And you only think that because you don't know anything about makeup,” you argued, despite the smile tugging at your lips.
“I know that you’ve looked beautiful every second of every day that I've known you, and that has to count for something—”
You swatted his broad chest, rolling your eyes and turning back to your makeup. “You're so full of it,” you laughed.
Grinning, he flopped onto your freshly made mattress, an arm folded behind his head, bulging bicep on full display. “You're about to be full of it—”
“Harry!” You scolded, tossing a brush at him.
He caught it without looking, spinning it around his fingers with a cheeky smirk. “What can I say? You bring it out in me.”
Another eye roll. You take a swig of your drink and grab your eyeliner, bracing your elbows on the table. You can feel Harry watching with abject horror when you paint your waterline. He gasped dramatically when you make a quick flick, resulting in a crooked, lightly smudged wing.
“Shit. Harry!” You huffed.
“I didn't do anything!” He laughed. “You're the one about to stab your eye out—”
“I am not! You're distracting me!—”
Something mischievous glinted in his green eyes. “Oh, you think that's distracting?” Harry hooked his foot under your stool, jerking you back towards the bed.
“Hey!”
“What are you children going on about?” Draco appeared in the doorway, half-dressed in trousers and a sleeveless undershirt.
“Harry made me mess up my eyeliner,” you scowled, turning back to the mirror. You attempted the wing again, only for it to skip and pull a little too long.
“He did?” Draco tsked, casting Harry an authoritative glare as he strode towards you, his equine legs taking him across the room in a few unhurried strides.
“I did not!” Harry argued. “I'm just sitting here, minding my own business—”
“Saints sake!” You cursed, pouting at yet another failed wing attempt.
“Do you need help, darling?” Draco asked, gently taking the eyeliner from your fingers.
“You can do eyeliner?” You asked, brows lifting.
He smirked, long fingers reaching out to grasp your jaw and tilt your head back. “Why so surprised?”
“Because you don't wear eyeliner?”
“My father taught me when I was kid,” he clarified. “It's something he does for my mom all time. Close your eyes, love.”
You were speechless, shocked that Lucius Malfoy not only willingly did his wife's makeup for her, but cared enough to teach Draco how to do it too. Something fluttery bloomed in your chest; Draco was doing it for you. Even Harry had fallen silent, watching with rapt attention.
This is how things were between the three of you—from silly friends one moment, to almost saccharine domestic sweetness another, then near-debilitating lust. Sexual tension so taught, you feared it would throttle you.
It was confusing, exhilarating, and deeply complicated. But it was worth it to have even a small piece of them.
Your closed your eyes, breath hitching when his grip tightened a fraction on your jaw, holding you steady.
“Breathe,” he instructed, his voice coming from much closer now, tinged with spearmint, and you loosed a shaky exhale. “Good girl. Now hold still for me.”
Your heart rate accelerated, thrumming eagerly under your skin. It was staggering how quickly he could send you reeling.
So light it almost tickled, Draco swiped a smooth arch above your upper lashes, flicking just a bit at the edges. With his thumb nail, he sharpened it to a point. An expert maneuver that had your belly somersaulting. He repeated the motions on the other eye, his hand delicate on your face so as not to disturb your other makeup.
“Open your eyes at take a look,” he murmured, and you obeyed, blinking up at him. Merlin, he's gorgeous. With his regal bone structure and those bewitching blue eyes. He smiled at you, catching your lingering stare, and leaned down to peck your lips. “Look at yourself, love, not me.”
You turned, eyes immediately snagging on yourself, and the sultry, flawless eyeliner he'd bestowed up on you.
“How the hell are you so good at that?” You asked, leaning in to get a closer look.
Harry got up and leaned over you, making an appreciate oooh. “Damn, Malfoy. If Auror-ing fails, you've got a back up career as a makeup artist,” he said, smiling over the blond.
Draco chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear while he admired his hand work. “Happy to help.”
“Your turn!” You whirled around and tackled Draco onto your bed, eyeliner lofted high.
He caught your wrist, grip tight enough to immobilize your arm, but not enough to hurt. He tsked, shaking his head at you. “Gonna have to be quicker than that, pet,” he chided, amusement glittering in his eyes.
“Oh, come on,” you whined, spreading your knees to lower yourself fully onto his lap. “Please?” You fluttered your lashes, tilting your hips just slightly to press against the growing ridge in his pants. He swallowed hard, eyes flitting down to where your bodies touched.
Harry snickered. “You're not playing fair, lovely,” he hummed, plucking the eyeliner from your fingers.
“But he would look so hot,” you argued, and Draco scoffed, releasing your wrist and resting his hands on your thighs.
Harry contemplated this, tapping his chin with the eyeliner. “That's a fair point.” And he handed you the eyeliner back.
“I don't get a say in this?” Draco huffed.
“Nope, you can wash it off after if you don't like it,” you chirped, uncapping it with your teeth and leaning down towards him.
“You know, it's unsanitary to share eye makeup—”
“Quiet, unless you want me to poke out your eyeball. Look up for me,” you ordered in your best Draco impression, and Harry laughed again.
Draco rolled his eyes, but did as he was told.
“Good boy,” you purred, and you felt his cock surge beneath you, Adam’s Apple bombing in his throat.
You drew a short line just under his lower lashes, barely more than a dot of product, and smudged it out with your pinky. Just enough to give him a little bit of a shadow.
When you pulled back, his eyes flicked back down to you, blinking away the little bit of water the collected. Your breath hitched in your lungs. His eyes looked almost silver, brighter than you'd ever seen them with that little bit of extra contrast.
“That's not fair,” Harry whined. “How can he get hotter?”
You set the eyeliner down, grinning triumphantly, until Draco bucked you off, flipping your bodies around before you'd even registered you were moving.
“And what do you think?” He asked, voice low and vaguely threatening.
Your brain short-circuited, completely mesmerized by his eyes. “I, uh—”
Draco smirked. “Not so bold now, are we?” He teased, leaning down to place a singular, open-mouthed kiss to your neck before pushing himself up, releasing you from his hold. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to finish getting ready.” He turned, pausing to pass a smoothing hand through Harry's hair before exiting your bedroom.
“It's not fair,” Harry grumbled, scratching his head where Draco just touched.
“You're gorgeous too,” you said, wrapping your arms around his middle. “You want some blusher?”
He barked a laugh, carding his fingers through your hair to tilt your head back to steal a kiss himself. “I’d hate to steal his thunder,” he joked, lowering his voice.
You giggled, pinching his cheek before pressing a kiss to it. “Natural blush, then?”
“Fiiine,” he smiled, pulling you up to standing. “Anything for you.”
You finished getting ready and joined Harry out in the living room, setting up the snacks and ambiance, getting the final details in order before your friends arrived.
You leaned over the counter, adjusting the candles at the center, when a heavy weight pressed against your back. Hands trailing up the fronts of your thighs, sliding under the hem as they pulled you closer.
“Sorry, lovely,” Harry purred, nosing into the back of your neck. “Couldn't resist.”
You could feel why against the fat of your ass, his cock throbbing eagerly under his jeans.
“They'll be here any minute,” you giggled, arching your back to press against him.
He groaned, calloused hands tightening around your fleshy thighs. “We'll cancel.”
“And eat all the snacks ourselves?” A breathy sigh stuttered from your throat when he rocked against you.
“Yeah, yeah—” he rasped, mouthing at the top of your spine. “Will need to refuel for round two—”
“You two are insatiable.” Draco’s accusatory voice cut through your haze like a lance.
Harry didn't relent, straightening. “Can you blame me?” Harry chuckled, his hands smoothing down the curve of your spine, the flare of your hips.
Draco hummed, and you turned your head to look at him. And oh, did he look good. Black fitted t-shirt tucked into his slightly baggy trousers, a patent leather belt cinching in that slutty little waist, silver rings on his fingers and chain around his neck. His eyes practically glowed from the eyeliner, giving him just that little bit of an edge, almost Bowie-like.
You extended a hand out to him, making a grabby motion, and he smirked.
“I have to admit, the eyeliner is growing on me,” he said, gently taking your hand and brushing a kiss along your knuckles. “But still, we're going to have to work on your manners.” He rotated your arm, bending your elbow to press your hand against your lower back. Harry caught your wrist, pining it down and pressing you harder against the cold granite.
“Seems well behaved to me,” Harry praised, his free hand trailing higher between your legs. “Isn't that right, baby?”
You nodded, thighs trembling as he inched higher, higher—
Knock knock!
Harry jumped back from you and Draco's head snapped up, scowling like someone personally offended him.
You straightened, smoothing your dress and taking a swig of your drink, willing the throbbing between your legs to subside.
“Sorry, love,” Harry said, pecking your cheek before rushing to open the door.
Draco shook his head and stalked over to the bar, uncapping the fire whisky and filling his glass.
“Harry, you will not believe what happened at work today.” Hermione charged in, jumping headfirst into a story about her idiotic supervisor.
Ron trailed in behind her, laden with takeout bags and a twelve pack that Harry helped him unload.
Hermione only paused her story to throw her arms around you, greeting you with one of those bearish hugs she was so good at it. Ron waved from across the island with a shy smile.
“Merlin sakes, Grainger. Do you ever stop talking?” Draco droned, leaning against the island beside you, a teasing smirk on his face.
“Unlike you, I actually have interesting things to say,” she bit back, pulling him down for a hug that he pretended to hate.
The boys ventured out to the fire escape, taking Draco's immaculate prerolls with them, leaving you and Hermione cozied up on the couch. But it wasn't long before Theo, Blaise, and Pansy arrived.
“Eccola lì!” Theo cried, handing you a gorgeous bouquet of roses and wrapping you up in a big hug. “I’ve missed you, carina,” he cooed, an incorrigible flirt as always.
“Hi, Theo,” you giggled, slipping away to hug the other two before tracking down a vase.
“What the fuck, Nott!” Draco shouted, throwing up the window, a plume of smoke pouring in. “Where are my flowers?”
“Sod off!” Theo shouted back. “Grainger, darling, if I’d known you'd be here, I’d have brought you the most gorgeous—”
“Watch it, Theodore,” Ron chuckled, his eyes already bloodshot, his smile melty. “Get your own bird, yeah?”
“Lo farò,” he purred, winking at you.
“Ignore him,” Pansy laughed, helping you fill the vase with water. “He got rejected this morning at the café, so he's feeling sensitive.”
“Oi!” He yelled over his shoulder as he climbed outside.
Blaise rolled his eyes and peeled away from Pansy’s hip, helping himself to the whiskey and sinking into the couch beside Hermione, launching into questions about her work. Pansy joined the boys on the porch, bringing out a tray of chips to uproarious applause.
Draco climbed back inside after her, swallowing the rest of his whiskey, and joined you in the kitchen, taking the roses from your hands.
“Thorns?” He asked, checking the stems. “I'll take care of it, go get a drink,” he murmured, fingers lingering on your lower back, hidden by the island, before he turned away.
“Thanks, D,” you said, squeezing his shoulder as you slipped past him and out of the kitchen. You grabbed another wine cooler and headed out to the fire escape, earning a trill of applause yourself.
Harry was perched on the steps, Ron on his left, while Pansy and Theo leaned against the railings. You turned towards Harry, but Theo caught you first, slinging an arm over your shoulder and tugging you into his side.
“Now the parties started,” Theo joked, offering the half-smoked blunt between his fingers.
You couldn't help but glance at Harry, who was watching you from the corner of his eye while chatting about classes that week with Ron.
If you were honest, you wanted a hit from Harry’s joint, preferably directly from his mouth, but you couldn't exactly refuse Theo and go to Harry without letting the cat out of the bag.
But would that be so terrible? You trusted your friends to not leak the news, and hiding what the three of you were was proving harder than you'd anticipated.
Sure, you weren’t a couple, but it was easy to forget what the arrangement actually was when it was just the three of you in the flat, free to express your affection however and whenever you wanted.
Going back to being friends, even if it was just temporary, was leaving your heart a little bruised.
“I'm okay, Theo. Thanks, though,” you said, offering as sweet a smile as you could muster, and Harry visibly relaxed in your periphery.
“Tranquilla,” Theo said, taking a hit himself and relinquishing his hold on you.
As casually as you could, you sidestepped to sit on the steps beneath Harry, his shins at your back, and started chatting with Pansy about her and Blaise’s upcoming nuptials.
A few minutes later, something heavy and warm dropped on your shoulders, wafting a familiar, amber-scented cologne over you. Harry's flannel.
You curled your fingers around the collar, wrapping it tighter around you, and felt like you could breathe for the first time since everyone arrived.
He offered you his blunt, holding it carefully between his fingers so you could hold onto the flannel. The acrid burn filled your lungs, cast a haze over your mind, and you exhaled, letting the smoke carry your racing thoughts to the stars.
"Better stop looking so damn kissable before I do something stupid," he muttered against your ear, a shiver rolling down your spine. Before you could respond, he leaned back against the stairs, slipping back into conversation with Ron like nothing happened.
A few hours passed, traveling back and forth from the fire escape to the living room, but as the evening wore on, it was too cold to sit outside. So everyone crammed into the living room, sprawled out on the couches and cushions tossed onto the floor.
You were stretched out on the floor between Draco and Theo, the latter seeming more interested in you than usual. He'd barely left your side all night, jumping up every time your drink was empty, or you eyeballed a snack for a few extra seconds.
They were reminiscing on their Hogwarts days, swapping stories and laughing. You were a year below them, and had only really known them from afar, so you just listened, and laughed when everyone else did.
“What'd you think of us back then, carina?” Theo asked, bumping his knee against yours.
Draco and Harry perked up a bit.
“I mean…” you trailed off, glancing around the group as heat crawled up your neck. “He’s Harry Potter. We were all a little starstruck.”
Harry flushed, and everyone but Draco laughed.
“And Hermione, I would write down your class schedule to try and copy it so I could be as smart as you—clearly, a failure,” you added, and Hermione blew you a kiss.
“Theo and Blaise, you guys stole my Charms coursework once, so…”
Theo balked, and Blaise snickered.
“I would never do such a thing,” Theo argued, clutching his gold chain like it was a string of pearls.
Immediately, everyone launched into different stories where Theo had done that and worse.
“Alright, alright! Stronzo’s,” he muttered, pouting.
“And Draco,” you said, finally turning towards the sulking blond. Were you really about to admit this out loud? “I had an absolutely debilitating crush on you.”
“Whaaaat?!” Everyone cried, and Draco's scowl lifted to a smirk, something warm blooming in his glacial eyes.
Harry rolled his eyes, slumping back against the couch, but Draco drew your attention back with an arm snaking around your waist.
“Did you?” He cooed, tugging you into his side. “How adorable.”
You shoved him away, giggling, though he didn't let you go far, socked feet still touching. “I was young, and had questionable taste!”
Everyone howled with laughter, and Draco chuckled, though his eyes promised you'd regret those words. And you couldn't wait.
They dove back into conversation, and you slipped away to check your makeup and calm your racing heart.
A soft knock startled you from your vanity, and you turned, expecting Harry or Draco, but were surprised to find Theo leaning against the door jam.
“Didn't mean to scare you, amore,” he said, eyes sweeping over you, openly appreciative.
“Oh, uh—it’s okay. What's up, Theo?” You asked, setting down your powder brush.
“I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner with me this week?” He asked, and your stomach dropped. “I think we'd have a lot of fun,” he added, sensing your hesitation.
“Oh, Theo. I—I’m not really in a ‘dating’ place right now,” you said, fidgeting a bit. “But, I appreciate the offer.”
Theo smiled, though it wasn't exactly friendly. “Still have a crush on Malfoy, hm?”
You narrowed your eyes. “I don't need a reason, Theo,” you bit, crossing your arms over your chest.
He held up his hands. “I know, I know. That's not what I was trying to imply. Mi dispiace. I had a feeling you'd say no, but figured I'd try my luck anyways. Your reasons are your own.”
You nodded stiffly, still a bit perturbed by the interaction.
“But, if you do still have a crush on Malfoy—”
“What’s that, Nott?” Draco suddenly appeared over Theo's shoulder, expression dark as a burgeoning storm.
Theo glanced at him, then back to you, still wearing the mischievous smirk. Apparently oblivious to the trap he'd stepped in. “Buona fortuna, carina,” he said, lifted like a farewell, and stepped back into the hall, leaving Malfoy fuming by your door.
“Draco—”
“He asked you out?” Draco asked, leveling you with those piercing eyes.
“And I turned him down,” you retorted, irritation flaring at the possessive way he was acting.
He was the one that suggested this arrangement, wasn't he? He made his bed. You weren't his. Not officially.
Something in your tone broke through the fog of war, and his expression softened.
“Can't say I blame the poor sod,” he said after a moment, eyes drifting down your body. “But I can say that I don't feel all that bad for him.”
You shook your head, walking towards the door to head back to the party. “Try not to look so smug,” you teased, pecking his cheek as you passed by him.
But his arm shot out, hooking you around the middle and flipping you around to press your back against the doorway, his body looming over yours.
“How could I not be?” He murmured, dragging his nose along your temple, the heat of him wrapping around you like a blanket. You could look nowhere but him, completely engulfed in his aura. “I've got such a pretty little thing wrapped around my finger.”
You rolled your eyes, but made no move to escape, the party with all your friends just down the hall completely forgotten. You only wished it was Harry you were pressed up against instead of the wall. Sandwiched between them was your favorite place to be.
His lips trailed down your neck, the feather light contact sparking along your skin like a live wire, and you gasped, arching into him.
“Is it too early to send everyone home?” You whined, raking your fingers through his hair. There was something deeply satisfying about being the one to ruin his always immaculate appearance.
“Just say the word and you'll never see any of them again,” he promised, earning a giggle from you.
“That seems excessive,” you teased.
“I disagree entirely—”
“I'm sorry to be a cock-block, but our guests grow suspicious.” Harry's voice filled the empty hall, and you felt Draco sigh against your neck before stepping back.
“I don't think you're sorry at all,” Draco chastised, throwing Harry a sardonic grin.
Harry shrugged, smirking back. “C’mon, lovely. They're trying to argue that the Demiguise is uglier than Grindylow.”
You gasped. “What?” and raced back out into the living room.
An hour later, you lead Pansy and Blaise to the door, waving goodbye to your final guests and hopping you didn't seem to eager to have them leave.
When you returned to the living room, you found Draco already picking up empty bottles and cans, while Harry was sprawled out on the floor amid the aftermath of the party, leaning back against the couch.
You thought about going to help Draco, but Harry looked far too cozy to pass up.
Harry grinned when you approached, crooked and honey-sweet, and it made your heart skip a beat. “Hi, pretty,” he said, opening his arms to you.
You sank to the ground and laid against his chest, one leg slung over his. “Have fun?” you asked, pecking his cheek. “Seemed to get a little jealous earlier.”
He shrugged. “M’fine,” he muttered, his tone shifting at the mention of Theo’s advances.
You didn’t buy it. Lightly, you dragged your fingertips down his chest, feeling his muscles twitch and bounce under your touch, and leaned in. “Are you lying to me?” you asked, breath fanning across his cheek.
“No, no—I, uh, I’m fine,” he stammered, breath hitching when you leaned in to kiss along the flush crawling up his neck. “Never been better,” he added, a little breathless.
You smiled, pulling at his earlobe with your teeth, before kitten licking the shell. He was trembling a little, his hand on your waist growing heavier, fingers curling around the bunched fabric of your dress.
“So, you don’t need me to show you how much I adore you?” You asked, pulling back a bit.
“No—yes, I—fuck, please don't stop—” He cupped your face, reeling you in for a messy, indulgent kiss. Lips slick with spit, tongue heavy with his lingering high and sweetened by booze, prying apart teeth to get to the softness of you. “Show me, please?” he mumbled against your mouth, breathing labored under the weight of his desire.
How could you refuse such a sweet request?
You shifted down, kissing along the valley of his sternum towards his navel, his skin deliciously warm through his thin shirt. Once settled between his thighs, you quickly undid his belt and fly, freeing him from the confines of his jeans. His cock was already throbbing, flushed with arousal and leaking pearls of precum. So sensitive, he hissed through his teeth when the cold air of the room kissed his fevered skin.
“You need me this badly, darling?” you cooed, blowing air on the rosy head to tease him further.
His chin bobbed, his entire body rigid with tension. “Please, baby, please touch me,” he whimpered.
Taking pity on him, you wrapped your lips around the head, flicking over his slit with your tongue. His whole body shuddered, a broken little groan slipping through is teeth. You hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper, the hot, heavy slide of his silken skin on your tongue making your thighs clench, honey leaking through your underwear.
“F-fuck,” he moaned, covering his face with his hands. “Feels so good—you’re so good.” His thighs flexed with the effort of not bucking into your mouth, desperate to keep still so you didn’t stop.
You hummed in appreciation, taking him as deep as you could manage, tongue swiping along the root of him. Drool was collecting at his base, stringy as you lifted up and down, making a mess of his boxers and yourself.
“Look at you,” Draco cooed, startling you when you felt fingers glide through your hair. “Such a fucking mess.” He collected your hair into a ponytail, starting to lift and lower you on Harry’s length.
“Draco, f-fuck,” Harry moaned.
Draco chuckled, guiding Harry’s hand to hold your hair and releasing you. “You can do it, Harry. She won’t break,” he teased, and you felt Harry’s hand tighten, adding a little more force to your own movements, pushing you a little further each time.
Tears collected at the corners of your eyes, Harry’s thick length making your jaw ache, and the need between your legs bordering on painful.
Then, you felt Draco’s hands slide under your hipbones, lifting you up to your knees in a quick motion and making you slide further down on Harry’s cock, gagging on him.
“Sh, sh, there’s a good girl,” Draco soothed, pushing your dress up over your hips, and rolling down your sodden panties. His fingers ghosted over your cunt, applying the lightest pressure, and you keened, the sound muffled by Harry’s length. “Don’t worry, pet. I’ll only stop when you do,” he challenged, circling the pool of moisture at your entrance before dipping a finger inside your heat.
You moaned again, redoubling your efforts on Harry to encourage Draco's fingers, rocking back against him as you bobbed up and down Harry's length. Harry was a mess beneath, gasping and whimpering, a sheen of sweat making his shirt stick to his skin, his dark hair cling to his forehead. Even his poor glasses were fogging up.
“Merlin sakes, baby—” Harry grunted when you swallowed around him, taking him deeper than before.
Draco rewarded you with a curl of his fingers, prodding that ruinous spot that had your whole body tingling, eyes rolling back in your head. “You take that cock so well, love. Such a perfect little cocksucker, aren't you?”
You nodded, pleasure unspooling in your belly and making your limbs grow heavy, wanting to dissolve onto the floor and let them ravaged you. Take what's theirs.
“Look so pretty,” Harry cooed, his free hand cupping your jaw, stroking away a tear from your cheek with his thumb.
“Tell us how pretty you feel,” Draco instructed, his fingers withdrawing from your heat.
You pulled off of Harry, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I feel so pretty. Thank you for making me feel so pretty,” you babble, reaching back to grab Draco and squeezing Harry's thigh.
Both men grinned, tutting proudly, and your reward prodded against your entrance, much thicker than a finger.
Harry guided you back down to his cock. “Remember, lovely. Don't stop unless you want him to.”
You nodded, lapping at the mess you'd made around his base. Draco swirled his cockhead through your folds, lubricating himself, mimicking the movement of your tongue.
Carefully, you took Harry into your mouth, slowly sinking down his length while Draco pushed into you, just as careful. Stretched perfectly, deliriously full. Pleasure dripped from between your legs, flooding your mind and body. You reached for them again, needing an anchor in the storm, and they both reached back for you, Harry hands over your on his chest, and Draco's fingers twined with yours on your shoulder.
“All ours, hm?” Draco gruffed, rocking his hips into you, his iron length dragging against your gummy walls. “Our mouth, our cunt—” he snapped his hips forward, sending you down on Harry's cock and making you gag. “If only Theo could see you now…”
You shook your head as best you could. “Omphly yours,” you mumbled, tongue squished against your teeth by Harry's girth. Harry keened at the feeling, hips stuttering up, the tendons in his neck pulled taught as you felt him start to swell—so fucking close.
“That's right,” Draco purred, stopping his punishing strokes to grind into you, the squelch of your pussy unforgiving, undeniable. “You're both mine.”
You and Harry nodded automatically, letting Draco's pace pull you up and down Harry's length, all of you rocking together like a castaways on a lifeboat, clinging to one another so you weren't pitched into the churning sea.
“F-fuck, ah—I’m so close,” Harry whimpered, hands tightening as he started to tremble, body burning like a furnace beneath you.
“Not yet, Potter,” Draco grunted, his hand sliding from your hip around to your belly, long fingers finding your clit and the sticky mess you'd made between your legs. “Not until she comes.”
It was like Draco struck a match, your whole body lighting up as he worked you with expert precision, knowing your body even better than you did. You tried your best to keep pace sucking Harry, but your mind was starting to fog, limbs going stupid and gelatinous as every nerve pulled taught in your stomach.
Harry whined, head falling back against the couch cushions. “Oh saints—I can't—”
“She’s almost there—you can. C’mon, angel. Come for us—He's been so good, he deserves to come, doesn't he?” Draco was starting to ramble, a tell-tale sign that he was getting close too, his cock thickening, pressing harder against your cervix with every thrust.
“Please, please, please,” Harry pleaded, and you were done for.
Your orgasm crested, the tension severing in your gut and sending you reeling, quivering so hard Draco had to wrap his arm under your hips to keep you upright.
The boys were dragged into oblivion with you, their cries combining into a single roar as they pumped you full of release, painting your insides white as they fucked you and one another through it.
“That's it—so fucking good for us. Did so well,” Draco said, stroking your spine and Harry’s outstretched leg, praising you both. He eased you off of Harry, laying you gently on the carpet and using his wand to clean you both up.
You were completely spent, wrung out like a washcloth. Boneless, brainless, and practically giddy with endorphins.
“You're amazing.” Harry offered you a sip of water, holding your hand while to you recovered. “Smiley girl,” he teased, leaning down to peck the grin tugging at your lips.
“Feel good, darling?” Draco asked, massaging your legs, his own smile breaking through. Viscerally pleased that he had you so thoroughly wrecked.
Harry was trying to be coy, but you could see the possessive gleam in his eye, the greedy way he took stock of every red mark and bead of sweat on your body. “Looking a little starstruck, love," Harry teased.
"Still think you were naive and had questionable taste?” Draco asked.
You shook your head, too breathless to speak, your throat raw and tender in the best way.
I said it before and I’ll say it again. The Shaw Pack needs to spar with each other. For educational purposes obviously and not because they’d all be hot, sweaty, focused, panting…
