-`♡´- talk to me about anything <3 (im not kidding it can be anything)
-`♡´- this is my main blog -> (here), where i write creepypasta and the riddler fanfics
-`♡´- MINORS DNI
-`♡´- chronic oversharer
Right now, I mostly write for Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, James Potter, Lily Evans, poly!wolfstar. Requests are open!! I can write gn!reader, but please specify this when requesting <3
I won't write: incest, non-con, minor/child exploitation, glorification of harmful behaviors, hateful content, bestiality
-`♡´- Works I've Posted -`♡´-
fluff = ♡, suggestive = ♢, smut = ♤, angst = ♧
Remus Lupin:
Beyond Marginalia – Fem!Reader
Sirius Black:
Smoke - GN!Reader ♡
James Potter:
Roller King – GN!Reader
Poly!Wolfstar:
What Ifs and How It Was – Fem!Reader ♡
Confined Spaces – Fem!Reader ♡♢
Frame by Frame - Fem!Reader (Modern Model!Sirius and Photographer!Remus AU)
Between His Lens, Between Your Legs - Fem!Reader (Modern Model!Sirius and Photographer!Remus AU) ♡♤
Sirius' turn with the camera - Fem!Reader (Modern Model!Sirius and Photographer!Remus Au) ♤
-`♡´- summary: You’ve never done a photoshoot in lingerie before, much less with another model. Luckily, Sirius and Remus make you feel more than comfortable.
-`♡´- contains: model!sirius, model!reader, photographer!remus, established wolfstar, modern au, praise, smut (oral, fem receiving), soft dom remus you have my heart
-`♡´- masterlist
-`♡´- word count: 2.8k
-`♡´- a.n: the smut is mostly at the end. part two to this fic kinda
You step out into the bedroom, your see-through babydoll dress swishing softly around your thighs. The silk stockings and garters you wore beneath it added to the playfulness and elegance of the shoot. For a moment, you hesitate – your breath catching as you meet Sirius' gaze.
Sirius' lips slowly curve as he takes you in. “Aren’t you a vision?”
Remus nearly drops his camera when he looks up to take a proper look at you. He clears his throat, quickly glancing down and feigning adjustment of his settings before taking another brief glance at you and offering a tight, polite smile.
“You look incredible.” His praise settles something inside you, steadying your nerves for only a moment.
Sirius leans forward and tilts his head, surveying his boyfriend’s reaction – a quiet exchange dancing between them. A muscle in Remus’ eyebrow twitches, causing Sirius’ nose to scrunch in a teasing, amused way – as though holding back a smirk. With an almost imperceptible sharp look, Remus shuts down whatever Sirius was seconds from teasing him about.
"Let's start, then." Sirius preens, passing you with a wink.
Sirius was seated on the edge of the bed, scrolling lazily on his phone as he waited for Remus’ direction. You move behind him, your hands stretching to rest on his shoulders. His reaction is instant – with his face lighting up as he glances up at you over his shoulder. He sets the phone aside to reach up and lightly grab your hands.
“Stay just like that,” Remus instructs as your fingers curl over Sirius’ shoulders. The camera clicks, capturing Sirius’ easy charm and the way you hope your posture exudes a sensual allure. You shift – initially not meaning to – letting your hands smooth over the expensive cotton covering his chest. Sirius follows your lead effortlessly, turning his head just enough to make the moment feel more natural.
“Perfect,” Remus murmurs, stepping to the side to adjust his angle. “Keep going.”
The simple command to "keep going” had lead to even more provocative poses. You lay horizontally across the bed, propping yourself up on one elbow, your other hand resting delicately on the bedspread. One leg crossed over the other, the line of your garter and stockings perfectly accentuated.
Sirius kneels behind you, his weight balanced casually as he watches you settle into the pose. You can feel the warmth of his presence without needing to look back, and your mind goes fuzzy again. The anxiety from earlier begins to creep back in, taking you out of the confidence that you were finally picking up on.
The sudden knitting of your brows causes Remus to pause and lower his camera. He takes a half-step forward, preparing to ask if you need a break. But you take the initiative, grabbing Sirius’ tie and pulling him closer. He blinks, his hands instinctively coming to rest on your hip to steady himself. All you can think about is the warmth from the contact – the warmth of his hand twitching against your skin involuntarily.
“Sorry,” he mutters reflexively, though the apology softens by a grin when he sees the mischievous glint in your eyes. His voice threads with approval as he purrs, “Look at you.”
The corners of your lips twitch. “You said to commit – so I am.”
His grin softens, veering into something more genuine.
“That I did.” His gaze dips to where your fingers still grip his tie, and his voice drops to a whisper. “You’re doing well.”
After a few clicks and flashes from the camera, Remus clears his throat softly.
“That’s beautiful,” he says. “But less chatter, more action.”
Sirius barely glances at Remus, his focus locked entirely on you. “You heard the man.”
You roll onto your stomach, bringing Sirius down with you. After the hours of working with each other, you’re at that point where what would’ve been mortifying is now… comfortable. At least, as comfortable as posing in your underwear for a camera can be. His forehead presses onto the side of your head, his breath warm against your cheek when you arch into him. He moves his hips back before you can truly feel him, and you quickly push down your disappointment. You try to hold the pose as the camera flashes furiously, but every inch of your body felt alive with tension. Sirius was so close, yet clearly afraid to press too hard.
“Closer,” Remus commands, the instruction soft but firm and traveling straight down your spine. “Let it be real.”
Sirius hesitates for what seems to be the first time as he gingerly shifts forward. The air in the room grows thick when you feel his hardness pressing against you. It’s a natural reaction, you tell yourself. Just like mine is. You were prepared for this – your agent and the countless articles on photoshoots like these had told you so. You just weren’t prepared for the reality of the persistent ache between your thighs, and his very real erection. Remus hums in approval, and you’re not sure if he’s unaware or purposefully fueling the fire between you and the body above yours. For your own sanity – you hope he’s unaware.
“Exactly like that,” Remus adds, his tone somehow grounding you while making your pulse race even faster.
The rhythmic hum of his camera fills the air, punctuated by the occasional beep. The sound echoes inside your mind, blending into the rapid beating of your heart and the warmth spreading across your chest. You’re not even sure when you rolled onto your back – but you were aware of how this looked. Sirius leaning over you, his hand grazing your waist as you stretch beneath him.
Your arm rests on his shoulder, and your leg bends, brushing against his hip. His weight is carefully distributed, making sure not to push any boundaries you are disappointed in the existence of. Sirius tilts his head, his dark hair falling into his face – and for a moment – it is impossible to tell whether it is part of the pose or something entirely unscripted. His hand slides an inch higher on your waist, rucking up your sheer garments under his fingers. He moves his hand as to not touch your skin, his thumb brushing a lazy circle through the delicate fabric.
“This okay?” he asks quietly, and you can hear the apologetic note in it that made your chest tighten.
You nod almost immediately as you meet his gaze, your breath hitching. “Yeah. It’s fine.”
His lips curve into a small, almost shy smile that was as uncharacteristic as it was sweet.
“Good. Tell me when…” But his voice trails off. You know what he means; you don’t want him to stop.
“Alright,” Remus’ voice cuts through the charged silence, and there was the faintest edge of amusement there. “If you’re going to continue looking at each other like that, you might as well stop pretending it’s for the camera.”
Sirius freezes, his gaze flicking toward Remus, though his hand doesn’t move from your waist. You are just as still – heat flooding to your cheeks as you attempt to process what had just been said.
“Excuse me?” Sirius says after a beat, his usual quick wit faltering.
“You heard me,” Remus replies, stepping out from behind the camera. His movements are smooth and unhurried, and the calm in his voice was somehow more disarming than if he’d made a joke. “Go on. You’re already halfway there. Might as well finish what you’ve started.”
The words hang in the air, but nobody moves. Sirius opens his mouth as if to respond. But then his attention is brough back to you. His expression is unreadable, and you trust that yours is too.
“Be honest with me,” he whispers, removing his hand from your waist to give you room to flee. “Because I don’t want to stop unless you do.”
You’re stunned into silence as you search his face for any sign of doubt or humor. But there is none – just a quiet patience that makes you feel safe, even as your nerves web with the undeniable pull of desire. Slowly – tentatively – you lean forward, your lips brushing against his. Sirius tilts his head, deepening the connection and igniting a spark in your chest. Warmth travels through your entire body, his hand going back to squeeze your waist. Your head dips back onto the mattress as your tongue moves against his.
“That’s good,” Remus murmurs. The approval in his tone makes you shudder, and you pull back just enough to glance at him.
His gaze softens – not just on Sirius but on you – and before you can process it, he moves toward the bed. He kneels beside you, his fingers brushing along your cheek.
“You’re captivating,” he said with a faint smile. “The way you move together—it’s mesmerizing.”
Your lips – already wet from Sirius’ kiss – part as he leans in to bridge the gap. It’s feather-light at first until your lips move against his. In response, he presses closer – though still contrasting with Sirius’ heated energy. Remus’ kiss is a steady, powerful pull that reaches further than your lips. Sirius’ thumb continues to trace small circles at your waist against the rising tension.
“Absolutely breathtaking,” he said, his eyes flicking between you and Remus.
When Remus finally pulls back, his lips hover close to yours. His expression was awash with a reverent wonder that makes your pulse skip.
His hand cups your cheek gently as he whispers, “Does this feel right to you?”
Swallowing, you nod, words barely finding their way past your lips. “It does.”
At your affirmation, Remus smiles and turns his head toward Sirius. The two of them exchange a look that speaks volumes – more than words can convey – before Sirius eases back onto his heels.
“Alright, lovebirds,” he teases lightly. “Move over, yeah?”
You laugh softly, nerves and excitement blending into a flutter in your chest. Sirius shifts back on the bed, bringing you closer as his hands plant firmly on either side of your thighs.
“Raise up a bit for us, gorgeous.”
You push yourself up on your elbows as his words dip low enough to have you exhaling shakily. The weight of their attention settles over you as Remus moves onto the bed more fully. His hand rests lightly on Sirius’ shoulder before he places it over yours.
“Look at you,” Sirius admires, his eyes raking over you. “Utterly stunning.”
Remus’ hand slides down your arm, his thumb grazing over your wrist as he adds, “And so patient with us, too. You’re lovely.”
Your heart races, your mind now gone to mush from arousal. But a part of you still hesitated.
“You’re both okay with this?” you ask, your voice barely above a breath. “I don’t want to ruin anything…”
“You’re not—” Remus’ thumb stills its movement as he briefly looks to Sirius. “We want this – if you do.”
Sirius gave a small, almost nervous smile, his voice unusually tender.
“We’re in the same boat here – this is uncharted for us, too. We’re… figuring it out as we go. But we’re here with you. If you want to stop, just let us know.”
Their reassurances melt the last bit of doubt you’ve been holding onto. You’re unsure of how to respond without sounding too desperate. Sirius brushes his thumb along the curve of your knee as the cogs whir in your mind.
“I’m here,” you finally say, attempting to meet both of their gazes. “For this. I mean… yes.”
Sirius’ grin widens, his hands sliding along your thighs, stopping just short of the undergarments that barely covered you. Remus shifts closer, his hand steadying your back as he whispers against your ear.
“Let us take care of you.”
The weight of their attention – their words, their touch – it is almost too much, yet not enough. Your chest rises and falls quickly, your body caught between nervous anticipation and desperate want.
The fabric of the babydoll dress feels weightless against your skin, but under their gaze, it might as well have been nothing at all. Sirius’ hands skim along your thighs, his fingers curling around the hem where the gauzy fabric met bare flesh. He wets his lips – betraying his worry – his eyes flicking up to meet yours.
“Please,” you urge him.
The moment stretches until Sirius moves, lifting the hem higher. The cool air ghosts over your skin as the thin garment slides up and over your head, leaving you in little more than lace and silk. His hands hover just shy of your hips, his restraint is evident.
Remus brushes the back of his knuckles along your jawline, tilting your face so your eyes meet his. He leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. “So beautiful.”
A tremble runs through you as Sirius lowers himself onto the bed. His eyes are calculating and somehow still wild, his fingertips tracing an idle path down to the curve of your thigh. “Still with me, Moony?”
“Always,” Remus replies. His hand slides to your cheek, thumb brushing over the apple of it as he guides your attention back to him. The corner of Remus’ mouth quirks up when he notices your needy expression. “Go on, Padfoot.”
Sirius lets out a breathy laugh, his grin holding all its usual mischief. “You’re really enjoying yourself up there, aren’t you?”
Remus chuckles but doesn’t take to the bait, his focus staying on you.
“She deserves to feel worshipped,” he says simply, his fingers continuing their gentle path along your cheek and jaw. “And you need to stop talking and start showing her.”
The words have you squirming just as Sirius lowers himself further, anticipation curling in your stomach. He kisses the inside of your knee first, the softness of his lips igniting a spark that travels up your leg. His hands splay over your thighs as he presses a trail of slow kisses higher. Remus’ voice stayed low in your ear, his words the soothing counterpoint to the fire Sirius was stoking.
“You’re doing so well.” His lips brush the shell of your ear.
Your breathing hitches as Sirius’ mouth finds the sensitive skin just above the edge of your lace underwear. His hands slide down your thighs, steadying himself as he presses his lips just above the waistband. His eyes flick up to you when you whimper – dark and full of intent – before he glances at Remus.
“Like this?” Sirius asks almost playfully.
Remus’ hand slides down to your shoulder, squeezing gently. “Perfect.”
Sirius’ lips continue their descent, his hands anchoring you in place as he draws closer to the dampened spot on the smooth silk of your underwear. You shiver when his breath hits your arousal and finally let out a moan when he slowly licks a stripe over the fabric.
“Does this feel good?" You ignore the teasing lilt in his voice as he asks you this.
You nod, a breathy “Yes” escaping before you can second-guess yourself.
Sirius chuckles under his breath before lowering his head again, lapping and tasting you through your garment. His hands slide under your thighs, lifting them slightly to give himself better access. The intimacy of his touch sends a wave of heat through your body, and you can’t help the soft sounds that tumble from your lips.
You can’t find the concern to care that this isn’t even your lingerie that you’re wearing – they were only for the shoot. But Sirius’ tongue is so hot, and the fabric is so delicate that you’re starting to get dizzy. Remus whispers praise in your ear as Sirius continues his ministrations, Remus’s thumb brushing along the corner of your mouth.
Sirius raises his head from between your thighs to briefly fumble with pulling your underwear to the side. You weren’t prepared, and the barest hint of air against your folds has you whining. He doesn’t waste another second, gliding his tongue along your slit. You hadn’t even noticed that Remus had pulled your hair back to press his lips and draw softly at your neck. Your eyes flutter closed, consumed by the sensations. When you moan again, you’re met with the vibrations of an open-mouthed hum against your heat.
Sirius’ lips finally wrap around your clit, sucking gently, and it’s completely overwhelming. Your breaths come out in quick pants at the heat and deliberateness of his mouth, each movement precise yet filled with a hunger that’s impossible to ignore. Your hips rise to meet his mouth when he pulls away for only a second. Remus catches the movement, his hand slipping to your back to support you, still guiding his lips against your skin. You’re not even sure how you’re still sitting up.
After a few seconds of bliss, Sirius raises his head again, causing you to groan and Remus to chuckle.
“We aren’t keeping you from another shoot, are we, darling?” he asks, the roguish curve of his lips glossy with his spit and your arousal.
“No,” you respond, shaking your head after finally catching your breath. “No, you’re not.”
There’s something really quietly devastating and beautiful about the slow burn of this dynamic. The tension builds so naturally, and the way the physicality of the shoot blurs into something emotional? I’m still not over it. Sirius being all cheeky and charming, Remus with his calm, grounding energy, and the way the reader is caught in the middle of all that intensity, I actually had to pause at least three times just to sit with the tension in my chest.
The line that got me was probably: “If you’re going to continue looking at each other like that, you might as well stop pretending it’s for the camera.” Like okay? RUDE? I gasped. Out loud.
Also, the pacing is perfect. There’s so much care and consent built into every moment, which makes it all the more intimate. The layering of nervousness, desire, and reassurance felt so real—I wanted to scream into a pillow.
Anyway. I’m going to go lie down and stare at the ceiling for a while. Reblogging so I can come back to this 1 million times.
i’m utterly OBSESSED with your model wolfstar x reader posts
could we potentially get a part 3 (maybe where we are shooting another intimate one bc the last one did so well and sirius convinces remus to do the modelling and let him work the camera - which he does, except this shoot has a far more provocative rougher vibe that the other one and at one point we’re on our knees and stuff and then bam.. smut) 🤭🤗❤️
this took forever im so sorry!
-`♡´- part: 1, 2
-`♡´- pairing: Poly!Wolfstar x Fem!Reader
-`♡´- contains: model!sirius, model!reader, photographer!remus, established wolfstar, modern au, praise, smut, oral (male receiving), fingering
-`♡´- warning: hair pulling (reader has pullable hair? LOL idk hair texture isn’t specified), fingers in mouth
-`♡´- masterlist
-`♡´- word count: 6k
The loft is quiet, save for the creaking of floorboards beneath your heels. You cross your arms, unsure if it is the chill in the air or the thought of seeing them again that raise the goose pimples along your skin.
It had been weeks since that shoot – weeks of confusion and unasked questions. You didn’t know what the three of you were. Nevertheless, the first shoot had been a wild success. Your agent hasn’t stopped singing its praises. “You’re in high demand,” she’d chirped over the phone while confirming this follow-up shoot. “Black and Lupin? Absolute magic with you.”
But the aftermath of the first shoot had still left you feeling… you weren’t quite sure. They’d sent gifts, messages congratulating you, and even a bottle of wine with Sirius’ sprawling handwriting across a tag that read To our muse. Sweet, sure, but what did it mean for the three of you?
And then there was the box. It showed up on your doorstep a week after the shoot. You’d stared at the box for a long moment before opening it – heart pounding – wondering if this was some final gesture to put the shoot behind you… or if it meant something else entirely.
It was the exact set you’d worn during that intimate whirlwind, folded neatly inside. A card in Remus’ script read: Just in case you ever fancy wearing it again.
That was all. No calls. No new texts. No mention of the way Remus’ words seared your skin, or the way Sirius’ mouth had you crying out in pleasure. You concluded that the near-magnetic tension that had pulled the three of you together was only temporary fun. Now, you were booked to face them again.
Your stomach fluttered. What happens this time?
Shadows play along the exposed brick walls, lending the place a rugged feeling. It was a far cry from the chic air of your last photoshoot. And – despite the awkwardness that pulses beneath the surface – they greet you warmly. Remus smiles as Sirius opens his arms for an embrace you can’t stop yourself from being wrapped in. He smells just as you remembered – like a sweet smoky leather.
“Everything okay?” Remus asks as you take a step back from Sirius.
You nod, grateful for the assurance. You’re trying so hard not to smile like an idiot, the corners of your lips twitching. The last shot was so intense, so unpredictable, that this anticipation was getting to you.
“You look perfect,” Sirius chimes in, walking behind you to better appreciate the backless dress you’re wearing.
You look over your shoulder before you can stop yourself. “Planning on buying me this one too?”
You immediately regret what you’d just blurted out. You had only meant it as a joke, not to call out either of them for their leaving you in the dark. A deeper part of you rejoiced in the way Sirius’ eyes widened just a tad, and the intake of breath from the man in front of you.
“Tempting,” was all Sirius mumbles as he walks past you, and he briefly steals another glance at you. You don’t have it in you to apologize, but you do go silent and stare at the floor. But apologize for what, exactly?
As he settles into the chair provided for the pictures, he breaks your sudden trance. “Shall we get straight into it?”
Looking up, Remus gives you a reassuring smile and nod, which you return. You move toward Sirius, and upon your approach, he spreads his legs and looks up at you with that wicked grin of his.
“Up you go, gorgeous,” he murmurs, his hand reaching out to help you onto his lap. You hesitate for a moment, but the pull is too strong. You slide into position, sitting on one of his thighs feeling the warmth of his body beneath you. One of his hands immediately find their place on your hip, the other on your thigh – it’s light, but purposeful.
It’s an intimate start, but it’s nothing you haven’t done together before. Still, as you settle in and Remus’ camera flashes, you try not to think too much on the weight of his hands. You’re all warm and flushed, and you feel as though your blood is boiling beneath your skin. He’s testing the waters with every inch of fabric his fingers roam over. But when you meet his gaze, the playful glint in his eyes deepens, and everything stills. His hand drifts to your back and your muscles tense, causing you to twitch. You can tell he’s trying not to laugh, and you forgive him for his cruelty as he “adjusts” one of the straps of your dress. You swallow, trying to focus on the task at hand. But the tension between you and Sirius is thick – so thick that you can almost taste it.
As you adjust your position, you turn your head toward the camera. Sirius leans in closer, his breath brushing against your ear, and you freeze. He murmurs, his voice low and rougher than before.
“I miss having you like this.” The words wrap around you as you look back to him.
Is my heart giving out? You swear it is.
You were too distracted by the confession you’ve been craving that you weren’t paying attention to his wandering hands. He pulls a gasp from you when he squeezes your breast, your eyes widening.
“Sirius.” Remus’ tone is a clear warning. For a second, you’d almost forgotten what you were here for.
“I’m being good,” Sirius replies casually, but he throws you a wink. Just as it had never happened, his hands slide down to your waist.
His lips hover just shy of yours, your breaths mingling. You fight every fiber of your being not to close the gap, but the moment is gone too quickly. He leans back, his hands still on your body. The room feels significantly smaller, and you shift in his lap. As you adjust your posture to have your body fully facing the camera, his hands follow every moment. He guides you with a casual expertise that betrays how much he’s paying attention. His fingers slide along your thighs, and you try to mask your confusion as he lifts one of your thighs to spread your legs.
You snap your head to look at him, as if to call his bluff. But you should know better, considering who you’re modeling with. Just what are you planning, Sirius Black?
His gaze is locked on yours, giving no clear indication of what he’s really planning. You gasp involuntarily again when you feel the coolness of his rings against your warm flesh, his thumb brushing along the crease of your thigh. The heat rushes to your cheeks as the sound of the camera shutter stops. His fingers slip under your underwear, but he stops before making any contact with your sex – much to your dismay. He glances up at Remus, his grin widening.
“Does this pose work for you, Moony?” It’s way too casual.
Finally detaching your eyes from Sirius’ face, you take note of how stiff Remus is, his camera lowered. His fingers twitch where they rest on the camera, and he exhales slowly. Sirius’ fingers flex against your skin, but Remus schools his features into something neutral. Dragging his gaze from where Sirius’ hand is, he finally looks him in the eyes.
There’s a long pause, and you try your best to keep your breathing in check. Sirius’ fingers trace small, lazy circles against your skin. It tingles and spreads into a shiver curling up your spine. You’re waiting for some big reaction from Remus – for him to cancel the shoot and leave, or set his camera down and join you two. Instead, he clears his throat and shifts his weight.
“Pretty sure that’s not part of the poses we planned for,” he murmurs, though there’s a rough edge to his voice that exposes how tightly wound he is. His gaze flickers to you, assessing, searching for any sign that you want this to stop. But you don’t move away. Should I be moving away? Despite what transpired the previous time you’d seen them; did you have the right to want more from them?
Sirius only hums in response, a deep, satisfied sound.
“Mm, thought it was,” he muses, his fingers twitching against you before – mercifully – he withdrawals his touch, pulling back with a slow drag of his hand.
Sirius guides you effortlessly, and you follow the silent direction to straddle his lap. You press your chest against his, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders. Sirius exhales, tilting his head so that his lips brush against your jaw. Your eyes flutter shut when you feel just the slightest pressure of his lips. The camera clicks, but the sound barely registers over the rapid pulse of your heartbeat.
Sirius’ hands slide down your back, past the curve of your waist, resting firmly beneath the swell of your backside. He shifts beneath you, pressing you against his bulge, and the fleeting friction has you biting your lip to hold back the sound that threatens to escape.
Remus makes a strangled noise – something caught between exasperation and disbelief. “Sirius.”
I should be pleading for forgiveness, not aching for him to fill me while I’m in his boyfriend’s lap.
Sirius only chuckles and makes quick work of pulling your dress over your hips, exposing more of your skin to the cool air of the loft. Your breath hitches as he continues to press you down against him. The slow, deliberate roll of his hips pulls a startled yelp from your lips. It doesn’t take long for you to meet his movements, mewling and rocking against him.
“I haven’t even touched you properly,” he whispers to you. “Missed us that much?”
You can only nod. He drags out an “aww”, mocking pout deepening just to make your face heat more.
You wonder if Remus was able to take enough shots before things spiraled past the realm of professionalism, but the thought barely lingers. A loud chorus of yes, yes, yes drowns out any rational thought as Sirius’ mouth finds the curve of your jaw. The warmth of his slow, open-mouthed kisses combining with the consistent pressure against your core have you crying out pathetically. Your hidden anticipation was revealed by the smallest attention to the space between your legs.
Your fingers twitch against his shoulders, gripping instinctively as another roll of his hips shoots through you. He’s relentless, guiding you into the motion with a firm grip. His lips move down the column of your throat, and just as his teeth scrape against your pulse point—
Remus makes a noise – caught between a sharp inhale and an incredulous scoff. He drags a hand down his face, his patience past the point of wearing thin.
“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters under his breath, though the way he adjusts his stance betrays that he’s not entirely unaffected either. “We’re done with this shoot.”
That’s when Sirius seemed to remember that this was, in fact, a photoshoot – not an excuse to have you grinding against each other. With a sigh that was more performative than genuine, he tilts his head back and shifts his attention back to the camera. While you nervously straighten yourself up, there was a glint in his eye that caught your attention.
“You know what?” Sirius drawls, stretching lazily before flashing Remus a wicked grin. “I’ve always wanted to be behind the camera.”
Remus stills. His brows lift, the only outward sign of his hesitation, but it’s enough for Sirius to pounce. His hands finally relinquish their hold on your ass as he guides you off his lap, standing in one smooth motion. You blink up at him and awkwardly pull your dress down, still feeling the lingering heat of his touch. He doesn’t let go of you just yet, smoothing his hands down your arms before guiding you toward Remus.
Remus eyes Sirius warily, suspicion flickering across his features. “I don’t think—”
Sirius tuts, reaching for the camera hanging from Remus’ neck. “Think less, my love.”
He slides the strap over Remus’ head and lifts the camera into his own hands, testing the weight of it like a prize. His smile is wolfish as he steps back, making a shooing motion. “Go on, Moony. Get close to our girl.”
Our girl.
Fighting back the biggest grin, you glance at Remus as he exhales. He shakes his head in reluctant amusement before his eyes flicker to yours. There’s something so him about it – the careful consideration, the quiet war between curiosity and restraint. You tilt your head, offering a small smile, and that’s all it took for him to fold. He sighs in defeat, moving toward you despite mumbling something under his breath. His first instinct is to fix your hair, sending a pool of heat to your stomach. You mumble a soft thank you.
Sirius raises the camera, adjusting the focus before snapping a quick picture of Remus just standing there, looking unsure. The shutter click echoes through the loft.
Remus tenses. “Oi, don’t waste film.”
Sirius hums, glances at the digital preview before pressing the Playback button.
“Wouldn’t call that a waste,” he mumbles appreciatively, his eyes roaming hungrily over the picture. He turns the camera toward you. “Back me up here, love. Tell our Remus how gorgeous he is.”
Our, our, our… I could die from this.
You nod, your smile widening. “He is.”
Remus lets out a scoffing laugh, ducking his head for a moment and running a hand through his hair. “I’m not photogenic.”
You can’t help shooting him a sharp look, Sirius doing the same.
“That’s enough of that—"
“You’re ridiculous is what you are,” Sirius chides.
Remus raises a brow. “What’s ridiculous is us not having enough pictures for this campaign,”
Sirius ignored him entirely, looking at you instead. “Put your head on his chest.”
“Yes, sir.” You giggle and stepping closer to rest your cheek against the firm plane of Remus’ chest. You hear the steady thump of his heartbeat; feel the way his breath catches ever so slightly at the contact. Sirius clicks his tongue.
“Not close enough.”
You barely have time to react before Sirius reaches out, pressing two fingers against the side of your face to guide you until you’re flush against Remus. It’s not just an adjustment – it’s a silent push to something else. You don’t resist.
The camera clicks.
You slip into action, your fingers grazing over the fabric of Remus’ shirt, tracing the curve of his bicep. You don’t have to think about it anymore – about how to move, how to look. It comes naturally now, your body responding to the weight of Sirius’ gaze behind the lens, to the way Remus’ breathing has begun to stutter. He’s tense, his hands hovering awkwardly at his sides.
“Touching her won’t kill you, Moony.”
Remus swallows, his jaw tightening. There’s a pause. He finally lifts a hand, placing it against your head. His touch is warm, grounding. You relax into it, sighing softly as your fingers trail further up his arm – relishing the heat of his skin beneath the soft fabric.
The camera clicks, but you’re barely registering the sound. The warmth of Remus’ fingers still lingers against your head. Sirius hums in satisfaction behind the lens, but you can sense his restlessness – he wants more.
Remus exhales through his nose when you meet his gaze again, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he flexes his fingers against your side. He tests the weight of his touch with a gentle squeeze, and you respond by standing closer to him. He adjusts his stance, rolling his shoulders back slightly. He’s starting to play along, you notice.
The moment breaks when you can’t help letting out a nervous giggle.
He chuckles too, his brows pinching together. “What?”
“Nothing,” you say, pressing your lips into a line. “You’re just—” You pause, searching for the words.
“Hopeless?” Sirius suggests, and you roll your eyes.
“I was going to say ’sweet’,” you correct.
Remus scoffs, shaking his head, but the corner of his mouth twitches. “That’s worse.”
“Be possessive about it.” Sirius sighs, shaking his head playfully.
Remus clears his throat, and, before he can overthink it, he cups your jaw. The pad of his thumb sweeps along your cheekbone, testing. Your lips part at the touch, and for a second – his eyes flicker down.
Sirus’ grin is sharp behind the lens. Click.
“Better.”
The more shots Sirius takes, the more Remus falls into it. He strokes his thumb over your jaw, then along the curve of your bottom lip. The touch is featherlight, and yet it has your breath stuttering. With every touch, all you can think about is the Sirius was touching you earlier. You’re not stupid, you know that wasn’t all you were getting today (at least, you hope it isn’t). You appreciate how cautious he’s being, but you honestly wish Remus would just bend you over that desk nearby and fuck you hard.
The camera clicks – again. And again. Each sound punctuating the heat settling thick between you. You can still feel your arousal every time your thighs rub together.
Sirius is in his element – framing the shots, shifting angles, adjusting the focus – but not without an ulterior motive. You can hear it in the way he hums, feel it in the way his eyes are practically devouring every interaction through the viewfinder.
“Mm,” he muses, lower the camera just a tad. “Something’s missing.”
Remus exhales, pressing your back closer against his chest involuntarily. Your head feels like it’s spinning.
Sirius tilts his head, considering.
“Pull her hair, Moony.”
Despite how coolly he said it, your skin prickles.
Remus freezes. His brows lift, his entire body locking up. “Sorry?”
“You heard me,” Sirius replies smoothly, raising the camera again. “Give it a little pull.”
You feel Remus stiffen as you turn around to face him. He blinks once, twice – then lets out an incredulous scoff. “I’m not—”
“Oh, come on,” Sirius interrupts. “You love doing it to me.”
There’s that implication that makes you dizzy once again. The casual implication that you were truly a part of their lives. You had tried to stop yourself from fantasizing before, to save yourself from the discontent that looms over you.
Remus’ jaw clenches, and he glances down at your wide eyes. He makes no move to obey.
You meet his gaze, offering a reassuring nod.
“It’s okay.” You place a hand on his chest.
His throat bobs with a swallow. His reluctance lasts only a second longer before his hand slides up, placing it carefully on your hair. He tugs – not too hard, testing the motion and your reaction.
The pull makes your scalp tingle, a shiver running down your spine. Your eyes flutter shut briefly as a shaky sigh escapes your lips. It’s good – but not enough. You blink up at him, your lips parted, and that’s when you see it. A shift.
Remus sees you. He sees the way your breath quickens, the slight tilt of your chin, the way you’re barely restraining yourself from pushing into it.
So, he tightens his grip.
He roughly pulls your head back, exposing the curve of your throat. Your mouth falls open with a soft, breathy moan. The sound had just left you when the shutter goes off - click, click, click rapid and so eager. Sirius exhales a satisfied laugh.
“There we go,” he murmurs. “Fucking gorgeous.”
Remus doesn’t respond. His breathing is heavier now, his grip unwavering as his free hand comes up to hover near your jaw again.
“Chin,” Sirius directs. “Grip it.”
Remus hesitates for only a moment before his fingers press beneath your chin, tilting your fave toward. His thumb skins along your jawline, rough and calloused. Sirius lets out a hum of approval.
“Now…” Sirius drags out the word, considering. “Put your thumb in her mouth.”
Remus’ eyes barely glances up at Sirius, his thumb dragging over your bottom lip slowly. You part your lips for him without thinking, causing him to inhale sharply through his nose. His thumb ghosts over your teeth before resting on your tongue, the pad pressing down ever so slightly.
Sirius groans softly behind the camera. ”That’s it.”
The moment is charged beyond words, Remus’ breathing goes shallow. His fingers flex subtly against your jaw as your lips close around his thumb. A quiet moan vibrating from the back of your throat. He lets his thumb linger, just barely moving it in and out of your mouth, watching your lips cling to him each time. You respond eagerly, swirling your tongue around the pad of his thumb, tasting the salt of his skin and silently begging him to push just a little further.
When he finally drags his thumb free, your lips chase him slightly before you catch yourself. Remus’ thumb glistens, and you can see the faint tremble in his fingers. Meeting his gaze, you can almost feel the way his entire body thrums with the effort not to devour you.
“Alright, Moony,” Sirius says in a voice that’s almost thoughtful. “Take a seat.”
He jerks his chin toward the worn chair he’d been using earlier, its placement perfect beneath the soft, diffused light from the window.
Remus doesn’t argue, and maybe he can’t. His legs mechanically carry him across the room, and he drops heavily into the chair. His eyes don’t leave yours as his hands rest uselessly on his thighs like he doesn’t know what to do with them. And maybe it’s the heat burning beneath your skin that’s making you feel so daring. Or the look on his face – wanting and trying so hard to behave.
But, whatever it is, it pulls you down to your knees in front of him without a second thought. You hear Sirius’ quick chuckle to your right as he moves to stand behind Remus. There’s a click as he adjusts the settings, framing the scene quickly.
“Well, aren’t you just a dream.” The praise is thick with something heavier than amusement.
Your palms find purchase on Remus’ knees, and you feel the way his thighs tense beneath your touch. He leans forward slightly, like he’s physically incapable of resisting you. You tilt your chin up at him, waiting.
His hand darts out, curling around your jaw – not rough, but firm enough that your breath catches. You just barely register the way his thumb presses into your cheek before his lips smash into yours, your surprised gasp swallowed into the heat of his mouth. The chair creaks beneath him as he leans forward. It doesn’t take long for you to melt into it, meeting his near-desperate pace with as much fervor. Your hands brace against his thighs for balance, mind spinning. Teeth clash, and you whine when he takes your lips between his teeth. Even Sirius, who would have spat out some teasing comment, stills. You don’t hear the camera going off, just the intermingling of your breaths with Remus’.
When Remus finally pulls back, both of you are flushed and panting. He subtly returns the smile you didn’t even realize was lighting up your face.
Sirius exhales a laugh, shaky and sharp. “Don’t stop on my account.”
The camera resumes its steady rhythm again, clicking steadily. Remus blinks, swallowing hard, but doesn’t move away. He stays leaning forward, his hands still cradling your jaw. You press your cheek into one his palms. You’re breathing hard too, chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. There’s a bloom of warmth in your gut that you can’t tame, not with him looking at you like that.
You slide your hands up his thighs, grounding yourself in the feel of his jeans beneath your fingertips. The muscles seem to jump under your touch.
Remus leans back into the chair with a shaky exhale, dragging a hand through his hair. His eyes gleam, the flush in his cheeks high and hot.
You shift closer instinctively, your hands sliding further up his thighs to chase the warmth radiating off him. His knees fall open slightly, and the silent invitation as your breath catching. Sirius approaches him from behind, camera hanging forgotten around his neck now. He leans down, pressing a kiss to Remus’ flushed cheek. You see Remus turn his head almost reflexively, and Sirius rewards him with a soft peck on the lips.
“Look at her,” Sirius instructs, mouth still ghosting close. “On her knees for you.”
And the weight of his gaze makes you clench around nothing – your pulse fluttering. It’s a hungry gaze that makes your hands slide higher. They stroke up the insides, seeking more of his stuttering breaths as you stroke your thumbs over the seams of his jeans. You glance up through your lashes, your fingers digging lightly into the denim at the top of Remus’ thighs.
Sirius circles back around the chair and lifts the camera over Remus’ shoulder. He whispers soft praises, but the only sound you can focus on is the breathing of the man before you. But you want more, so your hands roam higher – pawing at the bulge straining against his jeans.
“Fuck,” Remus breaths, looking down at you with dilated pupils.
You don’t know what possessed you, but something compels you to lean forward and press your cheek gently against his thigh. He freezes as your finger begins to trace the outline of his belt buckle.
“Can I?” you ask – softly and sweetly – dragging your cheek up and back down just a tad.
His gaze flicks between your face and the way your finger lingers on his belt.
“You don’t need to ask,” Remus answers, a little more strained than he probably intended.
You can’t help but smile at his response. Slowly – deliberately – you undo the buckle with a soft clink of metal. The sound feels obscenely loud in the quiet. Remus exhales through his nose as the fabric parts with a soft scrape of teeth. He lifts his hips, ever so controlled, and you ease his jeans and boxers down his hips. When the fabric clears the tops of his thighs, you watch as he frees his cock. Your lips part instinctively, the thought of having him in your mouth nearly makes your mouth water. Remus pants lightly above you, his jeans loose around his thighs and your hands resting just shy of indecency.
“Fuck, look at you,” Sirius whispers mostly to himself, camera now abandoned.
“Go on,” Remus says huskily, curling his left hand into a fist and letting it rest on his thigh. “Use those pretty hands of yours.”
And you didn’t need to be told twice.
The heat of him settles into your palm the moment you wrap your hand around his cock. Heavy and flushed; it twitches slightly against your touch. You trace your thumb along a thick vein running to the tip, smearing the precum already gathering there. He pulses in your grasp, and your brows pinch as you drink in the sight.
A low grunt rumbles from Remus; the subtle rolling of his hips pulls you back to the moment. You lean forward, letting a thick string of spit fall slowly onto him, catching the light as it lands. You smooth it down with your palm and begin with exploratory strokes. Slowly, deliberately – to coax the expletives and breathy catches from his lips. You’re cautious, not adhering to a steady rhythm just for learning him. Just to watch the way his chest rises, the way his mouth parts with every pass of your hand.
“Twist a little at the end,” Sirius murmurs, his voice warm against the shell of Remus’ ear. “He likes that.”
And so, you do. You glance up, eyes meeting his, whispering a soft “Like this?” without thinking.
You earn from him the most delicious sound you’ve ever heard a man make. His head tilts back, jaw going slack.
“Yeah.” Remus’ hips twitch up into your hand. “Like that.”
You try again, slower, pressing a kiss to his inner thigh while your wrist rolls. His hands, tense on his thighs, inch toward you until one finds its way to your hair.
“Fucking hell,” Sirius breathes, and you can hear the smile in it. “She’s so good for you, isn’t she?”
Your lips part, breath warm against Remus’ skin. The praise flutters low in your stomach, encouraging you to increase your pace just enough to keep him right at the edge. You glance up just in time to see Sirius shrug off his jacket with an elegance no man should have. The leather slides from shoulders, revealing the ink along his forearms as he rolls his sleeves to the elbow.
He stays behind Remus, hands skimming briefly over Remus’ shoulders before he leans in. He mouths at Remus’ jaw – slow drag of lips and barely-there teeth. Remus slants his head instinctively, offering more, but Sirius only lingers for a moment. His eyes are on you.
Your palm glides over Remus’ length, grip firmer at the base, thumb teasing the head each time you crest. He swears again, the syllable caught somewhere between pleasure and disbelief. His thighs tense beneath your hands – one flexes, the other shifts wider.
You lean closer, lips brushing the sensitive underside of his shaft, just to watch him jerk. His hips buck and he mutters something that breaks halfway in his throat.
You sense Sirius before you see him – the shift in the air. His footsteps brush against the floor as he lowers himself. When he kneels beside you, a pleased hum in his throat, your body tilts toward his heat.
Remus’ hand stays in your hair, thumb grazing your temple. You can feel him twitch again in your hand.
Sirius brushes a finger over your face reverently, trailing the edge of your cheekbone before dropping lower. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, planting it there as he settles just behind you.
“You always smell too damn good.” His voice is low with amusement, his fingers finding your hip like it belongs there. “It’s criminal, really.”
You roll your eyes, but can’t help the breath catching in your throat when his mouth ghosts closer to your neck.
You blink up at Remus through your lashes, and he stares back with glassy eyes. One breath – then another – until he finally speaks.
“Go slow, yeah?” It’s barely a whisper.
Your lips part as you lower your head, your eyes never leaving his. You watch his stomach tense as you drag your mouth over the head of his cock. He guides you with that same hand in your hair, your hand continuing its steady rhythm while your lips seal around him. His fingers tighten in your hair as you smooth your tongue against the underside.
Sirius purrs something into your ear that you don’t register, his hands were lifting your dress again. The cool air is replaced by the warmth of his hands on your hips, fingers trailing over your thigh and to your underwear.
Remus breathes out your name as you take him deeper, your mouth hot and slow around. You hollow out your cheeks, sucking as you do. The faint, wet sound it makes feels impossibly loud in the space between you. The weight of his cock on your tongue is heavy, but you savor it. Every twitch, every shudder from him sustains that ache in you to give him – give them – all you can.
You gasp when you feel Sirius dragging a finger along your clothed cunt, hips jolting back toward him, and you accidently still around Remus. Your eyes squeeze shut, and Sirius’ hand strokes up again to circle your clit through the fabric.
“You’re soaked,” he murmurs against your neck.
You respond with a muffled moan around Remus. You reach blindly, grabbing Sirius’ wrist – not to stop him, just to anchor yourself.
“Keep looking at me,” Remus rasps.
You lift your gaze, lashes fluttering as you blink through the haze of pleasure. He’s looking down at you, his skin flushed all the way to his collarbone and dragging your attention to his unsteady breathing.
Slowly, you begin to move again – more confident now – and Sirius’ hand matches your rhythm. He teases your clit in time with the bobbing of your head, spurring you on more. He kisses your cheek, just behind where Remus is filling your mouth, and then your jaw.
Your hips chase his touch mindlessly, pleasure sparking through you. You feel dizzy and overwhelmed in the best of ways. You feel him breathing behind you, feel Remus struggling not to buck into your throat.
You whine at the sudden loss of stimulation, but Sirius shushes you, and you feel his hand disappear under the hem of your underwear. He teases your clit once more, and you arch into the contact as one of his fingers sinks into you. The stretch isn’t overwhelming, and you moan when the heel of his palm presses against your clit in just the right way. Your hips roll against the pressure, encouraging him to pump his finger in and out.
You can feel Sirius smirk against your skin as he sets a steady pace with his hand. It’s all too much, and not enough. Your mind blanks and spins, caught in the heady drag of your mouth, the way Remus starts to pant your name, and the lewd slick of Sirius’ fingers inside you.
Your head lolls to the side, tears brimming in your eyes as you nearly choke when Sirius curls his finger inside you. He chuckles, firmly pressing dragging his palm to your sex. With his free hand, he strokes your cheek – right where Remus’ cock bulges from the inside of your mouth.
“There’s a pretty picture,” he coos.
It’s disgusting. It’s filthy.
You need more.
You suck Remus down harder in response, humming just to hear him moan a little more. The hand in your hair tightens, his hips stutter up once – just once – before he reins it in.
Behind you, Sirius crooks his finger. You whimper, clenching around the intrusion, your walls fluttering and on the edge.
“Another?” he asks, sounding almost sweet.
I could strangle him, you think.
“Mhm, you whine loudly, nodding faintly.
He presses a second finger into you, and you feel the slow slide. You falter for a moment, jaw slack around Remus, but you recover with another whimper as Sirius curls his fingers inside you. You swallow around Remus, and his thumb brushes the corner of your mouth before it slips back to your hair. His eyes are fixed on you, half-lidded and swimming with something tender and wrecked all at once.
You’re breathing hard through your nose now, your jaw aching, but you don’t stop. Remus’ thigh twitches beneath the palm of your hand – one you hadn’t even realized you’d placed there. Sirius murmurs something into the shell of your – something indecent, you’re sure – but it’s downed out by the pounding in your chest.
“F-fuck—darling—just—” Remus chokes on the words as you quicken your movements.
His whole body tenses.
You can feel it in the way he swells on your tongue. His hand cups your jaw again – just for a second – as if to cradle you, and then pulls back to tangle both hands in your hair. His breath stutters, and his body shudders with every flick of your tongue.
“Don’t stop,” he gasps. “Don’t—oh—fuck—”
You couldn’t if you tried. You let your tongue drag languidly beneath the head before sliding down again, hollowing your cheeks on the way up. His hips buck, and you feel him pulse. You taste the warmth as he comes in sharp waves. Your name sounds sweet on his tongue, head tipped back, and your fingers squeeze around his thighs as you swallow what he gives you.
Sirius’ fingers are still stroking deep inside you, slower now. He coaxes and milks every ounce of pleasure as you cling to Remus. He presses a kiss to the space behind your ear, voice velvet-soft.
-`♡´- summary: You’ve never done a photoshoot in lingerie before, much less with another model. Luckily, Sirius and Remus make you feel more than comfortable.
-`♡´- contains: model!sirius, model!reader, photographer!remus, established wolfstar, modern au, praise, smut (oral, fem receiving), soft dom remus you have my heart
-`♡´- masterlist
-`♡´- word count: 2.8k
-`♡´- a.n: the smut is mostly at the end. part two to this fic kinda
You step out into the bedroom, your see-through babydoll dress swishing softly around your thighs. The silk stockings and garters you wore beneath it added to the playfulness and elegance of the shoot. For a moment, you hesitate – your breath catching as you meet Sirius' gaze.
Sirius' lips slowly curve as he takes you in. “Aren’t you a vision?”
Remus nearly drops his camera when he looks up to take a proper look at you. He clears his throat, quickly glancing down and feigning adjustment of his settings before taking another brief glance at you and offering a tight, polite smile.
“You look incredible.” His praise settles something inside you, steadying your nerves for only a moment.
Sirius leans forward and tilts his head, surveying his boyfriend’s reaction – a quiet exchange dancing between them. A muscle in Remus’ eyebrow twitches, causing Sirius’ nose to scrunch in a teasing, amused way – as though holding back a smirk. With an almost imperceptible sharp look, Remus shuts down whatever Sirius was seconds from teasing him about.
"Let's start, then." Sirius preens, passing you with a wink.
Sirius was seated on the edge of the bed, scrolling lazily on his phone as he waited for Remus’ direction. You move behind him, your hands stretching to rest on his shoulders. His reaction is instant – with his face lighting up as he glances up at you over his shoulder. He sets the phone aside to reach up and lightly grab your hands.
“Stay just like that,” Remus instructs as your fingers curl over Sirius’ shoulders. The camera clicks, capturing Sirius’ easy charm and the way you hope your posture exudes a sensual allure. You shift – initially not meaning to – letting your hands smooth over the expensive cotton covering his chest. Sirius follows your lead effortlessly, turning his head just enough to make the moment feel more natural.
“Perfect,” Remus murmurs, stepping to the side to adjust his angle. “Keep going.”
The simple command to "keep going” had lead to even more provocative poses. You lay horizontally across the bed, propping yourself up on one elbow, your other hand resting delicately on the bedspread. One leg crossed over the other, the line of your garter and stockings perfectly accentuated.
Sirius kneels behind you, his weight balanced casually as he watches you settle into the pose. You can feel the warmth of his presence without needing to look back, and your mind goes fuzzy again. The anxiety from earlier begins to creep back in, taking you out of the confidence that you were finally picking up on.
The sudden knitting of your brows causes Remus to pause and lower his camera. He takes a half-step forward, preparing to ask if you need a break. But you take the initiative, grabbing Sirius’ tie and pulling him closer. He blinks, his hands instinctively coming to rest on your hip to steady himself. All you can think about is the warmth from the contact – the warmth of his hand twitching against your skin involuntarily.
“Sorry,” he mutters reflexively, though the apology softens by a grin when he sees the mischievous glint in your eyes. His voice threads with approval as he purrs, “Look at you.”
The corners of your lips twitch. “You said to commit – so I am.”
His grin softens, veering into something more genuine.
“That I did.” His gaze dips to where your fingers still grip his tie, and his voice drops to a whisper. “You’re doing well.”
After a few clicks and flashes from the camera, Remus clears his throat softly.
“That’s beautiful,” he says. “But less chatter, more action.”
Sirius barely glances at Remus, his focus locked entirely on you. “You heard the man.”
You roll onto your stomach, bringing Sirius down with you. After the hours of working with each other, you’re at that point where what would’ve been mortifying is now… comfortable. At least, as comfortable as posing in your underwear for a camera can be. His forehead presses onto the side of your head, his breath warm against your cheek when you arch into him. He moves his hips back before you can truly feel him, and you quickly push down your disappointment. You try to hold the pose as the camera flashes furiously, but every inch of your body felt alive with tension. Sirius was so close, yet clearly afraid to press too hard.
“Closer,” Remus commands, the instruction soft but firm and traveling straight down your spine. “Let it be real.”
Sirius hesitates for what seems to be the first time as he gingerly shifts forward. The air in the room grows thick when you feel his hardness pressing against you. It’s a natural reaction, you tell yourself. Just like mine is. You were prepared for this – your agent and the countless articles on photoshoots like these had told you so. You just weren’t prepared for the reality of the persistent ache between your thighs, and his very real erection. Remus hums in approval, and you’re not sure if he’s unaware or purposefully fueling the fire between you and the body above yours. For your own sanity – you hope he’s unaware.
“Exactly like that,” Remus adds, his tone somehow grounding you while making your pulse race even faster.
The rhythmic hum of his camera fills the air, punctuated by the occasional beep. The sound echoes inside your mind, blending into the rapid beating of your heart and the warmth spreading across your chest. You’re not even sure when you rolled onto your back – but you were aware of how this looked. Sirius leaning over you, his hand grazing your waist as you stretch beneath him.
Your arm rests on his shoulder, and your leg bends, brushing against his hip. His weight is carefully distributed, making sure not to push any boundaries you are disappointed in the existence of. Sirius tilts his head, his dark hair falling into his face – and for a moment – it is impossible to tell whether it is part of the pose or something entirely unscripted. His hand slides an inch higher on your waist, rucking up your sheer garments under his fingers. He moves his hand as to not touch your skin, his thumb brushing a lazy circle through the delicate fabric.
“This okay?” he asks quietly, and you can hear the apologetic note in it that made your chest tighten.
You nod almost immediately as you meet his gaze, your breath hitching. “Yeah. It’s fine.”
His lips curve into a small, almost shy smile that was as uncharacteristic as it was sweet.
“Good. Tell me when…” But his voice trails off. You know what he means; you don’t want him to stop.
“Alright,” Remus’ voice cuts through the charged silence, and there was the faintest edge of amusement there. “If you’re going to continue looking at each other like that, you might as well stop pretending it’s for the camera.”
Sirius freezes, his gaze flicking toward Remus, though his hand doesn’t move from your waist. You are just as still – heat flooding to your cheeks as you attempt to process what had just been said.
“Excuse me?” Sirius says after a beat, his usual quick wit faltering.
“You heard me,” Remus replies, stepping out from behind the camera. His movements are smooth and unhurried, and the calm in his voice was somehow more disarming than if he’d made a joke. “Go on. You’re already halfway there. Might as well finish what you’ve started.”
The words hang in the air, but nobody moves. Sirius opens his mouth as if to respond. But then his attention is brough back to you. His expression is unreadable, and you trust that yours is too.
“Be honest with me,” he whispers, removing his hand from your waist to give you room to flee. “Because I don’t want to stop unless you do.”
You’re stunned into silence as you search his face for any sign of doubt or humor. But there is none – just a quiet patience that makes you feel safe, even as your nerves web with the undeniable pull of desire. Slowly – tentatively – you lean forward, your lips brushing against his. Sirius tilts his head, deepening the connection and igniting a spark in your chest. Warmth travels through your entire body, his hand going back to squeeze your waist. Your head dips back onto the mattress as your tongue moves against his.
“That’s good,” Remus murmurs. The approval in his tone makes you shudder, and you pull back just enough to glance at him.
His gaze softens – not just on Sirius but on you – and before you can process it, he moves toward the bed. He kneels beside you, his fingers brushing along your cheek.
“You’re captivating,” he said with a faint smile. “The way you move together—it’s mesmerizing.”
Your lips – already wet from Sirius’ kiss – part as he leans in to bridge the gap. It’s feather-light at first until your lips move against his. In response, he presses closer – though still contrasting with Sirius’ heated energy. Remus’ kiss is a steady, powerful pull that reaches further than your lips. Sirius’ thumb continues to trace small circles at your waist against the rising tension.
“Absolutely breathtaking,” he said, his eyes flicking between you and Remus.
When Remus finally pulls back, his lips hover close to yours. His expression was awash with a reverent wonder that makes your pulse skip.
His hand cups your cheek gently as he whispers, “Does this feel right to you?”
Swallowing, you nod, words barely finding their way past your lips. “It does.”
At your affirmation, Remus smiles and turns his head toward Sirius. The two of them exchange a look that speaks volumes – more than words can convey – before Sirius eases back onto his heels.
“Alright, lovebirds,” he teases lightly. “Move over, yeah?”
You laugh softly, nerves and excitement blending into a flutter in your chest. Sirius shifts back on the bed, bringing you closer as his hands plant firmly on either side of your thighs.
“Raise up a bit for us, gorgeous.”
You push yourself up on your elbows as his words dip low enough to have you exhaling shakily. The weight of their attention settles over you as Remus moves onto the bed more fully. His hand rests lightly on Sirius’ shoulder before he places it over yours.
“Look at you,” Sirius admires, his eyes raking over you. “Utterly stunning.”
Remus’ hand slides down your arm, his thumb grazing over your wrist as he adds, “And so patient with us, too. You’re lovely.”
Your heart races, your mind now gone to mush from arousal. But a part of you still hesitated.
“You’re both okay with this?” you ask, your voice barely above a breath. “I don’t want to ruin anything…”
“You’re not—” Remus’ thumb stills its movement as he briefly looks to Sirius. “We want this – if you do.”
Sirius gave a small, almost nervous smile, his voice unusually tender.
“We’re in the same boat here – this is uncharted for us, too. We’re… figuring it out as we go. But we’re here with you. If you want to stop, just let us know.”
Their reassurances melt the last bit of doubt you’ve been holding onto. You’re unsure of how to respond without sounding too desperate. Sirius brushes his thumb along the curve of your knee as the cogs whir in your mind.
“I’m here,” you finally say, attempting to meet both of their gazes. “For this. I mean… yes.”
Sirius’ grin widens, his hands sliding along your thighs, stopping just short of the undergarments that barely covered you. Remus shifts closer, his hand steadying your back as he whispers against your ear.
“Let us take care of you.”
The weight of their attention – their words, their touch – it is almost too much, yet not enough. Your chest rises and falls quickly, your body caught between nervous anticipation and desperate want.
The fabric of the babydoll dress feels weightless against your skin, but under their gaze, it might as well have been nothing at all. Sirius’ hands skim along your thighs, his fingers curling around the hem where the gauzy fabric met bare flesh. He wets his lips – betraying his worry – his eyes flicking up to meet yours.
“Please,” you urge him.
The moment stretches until Sirius moves, lifting the hem higher. The cool air ghosts over your skin as the thin garment slides up and over your head, leaving you in little more than lace and silk. His hands hover just shy of your hips, his restraint is evident.
Remus brushes the back of his knuckles along your jawline, tilting your face so your eyes meet his. He leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. “So beautiful.”
A tremble runs through you as Sirius lowers himself onto the bed. His eyes are calculating and somehow still wild, his fingertips tracing an idle path down to the curve of your thigh. “Still with me, Moony?”
“Always,” Remus replies. His hand slides to your cheek, thumb brushing over the apple of it as he guides your attention back to him. The corner of Remus’ mouth quirks up when he notices your needy expression. “Go on, Padfoot.”
Sirius lets out a breathy laugh, his grin holding all its usual mischief. “You’re really enjoying yourself up there, aren’t you?”
Remus chuckles but doesn’t take to the bait, his focus staying on you.
“She deserves to feel worshipped,” he says simply, his fingers continuing their gentle path along your cheek and jaw. “And you need to stop talking and start showing her.”
The words have you squirming just as Sirius lowers himself further, anticipation curling in your stomach. He kisses the inside of your knee first, the softness of his lips igniting a spark that travels up your leg. His hands splay over your thighs as he presses a trail of slow kisses higher. Remus’ voice stayed low in your ear, his words the soothing counterpoint to the fire Sirius was stoking.
“You’re doing so well.” His lips brush the shell of your ear.
Your breathing hitches as Sirius’ mouth finds the sensitive skin just above the edge of your lace underwear. His hands slide down your thighs, steadying himself as he presses his lips just above the waistband. His eyes flick up to you when you whimper – dark and full of intent – before he glances at Remus.
“Like this?” Sirius asks almost playfully.
Remus’ hand slides down to your shoulder, squeezing gently. “Perfect.”
Sirius’ lips continue their descent, his hands anchoring you in place as he draws closer to the dampened spot on the smooth silk of your underwear. You shiver when his breath hits your arousal and finally let out a moan when he slowly licks a stripe over the fabric.
“Does this feel good?" You ignore the teasing lilt in his voice as he asks you this.
You nod, a breathy “Yes” escaping before you can second-guess yourself.
Sirius chuckles under his breath before lowering his head again, lapping and tasting you through your garment. His hands slide under your thighs, lifting them slightly to give himself better access. The intimacy of his touch sends a wave of heat through your body, and you can’t help the soft sounds that tumble from your lips.
You can’t find the concern to care that this isn’t even your lingerie that you’re wearing – they were only for the shoot. But Sirius’ tongue is so hot, and the fabric is so delicate that you’re starting to get dizzy. Remus whispers praise in your ear as Sirius continues his ministrations, Remus’s thumb brushing along the corner of your mouth.
Sirius raises his head from between your thighs to briefly fumble with pulling your underwear to the side. You weren’t prepared, and the barest hint of air against your folds has you whining. He doesn’t waste another second, gliding his tongue along your slit. You hadn’t even noticed that Remus had pulled your hair back to press his lips and draw softly at your neck. Your eyes flutter closed, consumed by the sensations. When you moan again, you’re met with the vibrations of an open-mouthed hum against your heat.
Sirius’ lips finally wrap around your clit, sucking gently, and it’s completely overwhelming. Your breaths come out in quick pants at the heat and deliberateness of his mouth, each movement precise yet filled with a hunger that’s impossible to ignore. Your hips rise to meet his mouth when he pulls away for only a second. Remus catches the movement, his hand slipping to your back to support you, still guiding his lips against your skin. You’re not even sure how you’re still sitting up.
After a few seconds of bliss, Sirius raises his head again, causing you to groan and Remus to chuckle.
“We aren’t keeping you from another shoot, are we, darling?” he asks, the roguish curve of his lips glossy with his spit and your arousal.
“No,” you respond, shaking your head after finally catching your breath. “No, you’re not.”
i know this is a million years late but thank you so much <3 whenever i write wolfstar stuff im always going for something airy and like a creamy white satin and im so glad that translated well into my writing!!
-`♡´- summary: You’ve never done a photoshoot in lingerie before, much less with another model. Luckily, Sirius and Remus make you feel more than comfortable.
-`♡´- contains: model!sirius, model!reader, photographer!remus, established wolfstar, modern au, praise, smut (oral, fem receiving), soft dom remus you have my heart
-`♡´- masterlist
-`♡´- word count: 2.8k
-`♡´- a.n: the smut is mostly at the end. part two to this fic kinda
You step out into the bedroom, your see-through babydoll dress swishing softly around your thighs. The silk stockings and garters you wore beneath it added to the playfulness and elegance of the shoot. For a moment, you hesitate – your breath catching as you meet Sirius' gaze.
Sirius' lips slowly curve as he takes you in. “Aren’t you a vision?”
Remus nearly drops his camera when he looks up to take a proper look at you. He clears his throat, quickly glancing down and feigning adjustment of his settings before taking another brief glance at you and offering a tight, polite smile.
“You look incredible.” His praise settles something inside you, steadying your nerves for only a moment.
Sirius leans forward and tilts his head, surveying his boyfriend’s reaction – a quiet exchange dancing between them. A muscle in Remus’ eyebrow twitches, causing Sirius’ nose to scrunch in a teasing, amused way – as though holding back a smirk. With an almost imperceptible sharp look, Remus shuts down whatever Sirius was seconds from teasing him about.
"Let's start, then." Sirius preens, passing you with a wink.
Sirius was seated on the edge of the bed, scrolling lazily on his phone as he waited for Remus’ direction. You move behind him, your hands stretching to rest on his shoulders. His reaction is instant – with his face lighting up as he glances up at you over his shoulder. He sets the phone aside to reach up and lightly grab your hands.
“Stay just like that,” Remus instructs as your fingers curl over Sirius’ shoulders. The camera clicks, capturing Sirius’ easy charm and the way you hope your posture exudes a sensual allure. You shift – initially not meaning to – letting your hands smooth over the expensive cotton covering his chest. Sirius follows your lead effortlessly, turning his head just enough to make the moment feel more natural.
“Perfect,” Remus murmurs, stepping to the side to adjust his angle. “Keep going.”
The simple command to "keep going” had lead to even more provocative poses. You lay horizontally across the bed, propping yourself up on one elbow, your other hand resting delicately on the bedspread. One leg crossed over the other, the line of your garter and stockings perfectly accentuated.
Sirius kneels behind you, his weight balanced casually as he watches you settle into the pose. You can feel the warmth of his presence without needing to look back, and your mind goes fuzzy again. The anxiety from earlier begins to creep back in, taking you out of the confidence that you were finally picking up on.
The sudden knitting of your brows causes Remus to pause and lower his camera. He takes a half-step forward, preparing to ask if you need a break. But you take the initiative, grabbing Sirius’ tie and pulling him closer. He blinks, his hands instinctively coming to rest on your hip to steady himself. All you can think about is the warmth from the contact – the warmth of his hand twitching against your skin involuntarily.
“Sorry,” he mutters reflexively, though the apology softens by a grin when he sees the mischievous glint in your eyes. His voice threads with approval as he purrs, “Look at you.”
The corners of your lips twitch. “You said to commit – so I am.”
His grin softens, veering into something more genuine.
“That I did.” His gaze dips to where your fingers still grip his tie, and his voice drops to a whisper. “You’re doing well.”
After a few clicks and flashes from the camera, Remus clears his throat softly.
“That’s beautiful,” he says. “But less chatter, more action.”
Sirius barely glances at Remus, his focus locked entirely on you. “You heard the man.”
You roll onto your stomach, bringing Sirius down with you. After the hours of working with each other, you’re at that point where what would’ve been mortifying is now… comfortable. At least, as comfortable as posing in your underwear for a camera can be. His forehead presses onto the side of your head, his breath warm against your cheek when you arch into him. He moves his hips back before you can truly feel him, and you quickly push down your disappointment. You try to hold the pose as the camera flashes furiously, but every inch of your body felt alive with tension. Sirius was so close, yet clearly afraid to press too hard.
“Closer,” Remus commands, the instruction soft but firm and traveling straight down your spine. “Let it be real.”
Sirius hesitates for what seems to be the first time as he gingerly shifts forward. The air in the room grows thick when you feel his hardness pressing against you. It’s a natural reaction, you tell yourself. Just like mine is. You were prepared for this – your agent and the countless articles on photoshoots like these had told you so. You just weren’t prepared for the reality of the persistent ache between your thighs, and his very real erection. Remus hums in approval, and you’re not sure if he’s unaware or purposefully fueling the fire between you and the body above yours. For your own sanity – you hope he’s unaware.
“Exactly like that,” Remus adds, his tone somehow grounding you while making your pulse race even faster.
The rhythmic hum of his camera fills the air, punctuated by the occasional beep. The sound echoes inside your mind, blending into the rapid beating of your heart and the warmth spreading across your chest. You’re not even sure when you rolled onto your back – but you were aware of how this looked. Sirius leaning over you, his hand grazing your waist as you stretch beneath him.
Your arm rests on his shoulder, and your leg bends, brushing against his hip. His weight is carefully distributed, making sure not to push any boundaries you are disappointed in the existence of. Sirius tilts his head, his dark hair falling into his face – and for a moment – it is impossible to tell whether it is part of the pose or something entirely unscripted. His hand slides an inch higher on your waist, rucking up your sheer garments under his fingers. He moves his hand as to not touch your skin, his thumb brushing a lazy circle through the delicate fabric.
“This okay?” he asks quietly, and you can hear the apologetic note in it that made your chest tighten.
You nod almost immediately as you meet his gaze, your breath hitching. “Yeah. It’s fine.”
His lips curve into a small, almost shy smile that was as uncharacteristic as it was sweet.
“Good. Tell me when…” But his voice trails off. You know what he means; you don’t want him to stop.
“Alright,” Remus’ voice cuts through the charged silence, and there was the faintest edge of amusement there. “If you’re going to continue looking at each other like that, you might as well stop pretending it’s for the camera.”
Sirius freezes, his gaze flicking toward Remus, though his hand doesn’t move from your waist. You are just as still – heat flooding to your cheeks as you attempt to process what had just been said.
“Excuse me?” Sirius says after a beat, his usual quick wit faltering.
“You heard me,” Remus replies, stepping out from behind the camera. His movements are smooth and unhurried, and the calm in his voice was somehow more disarming than if he’d made a joke. “Go on. You’re already halfway there. Might as well finish what you’ve started.”
The words hang in the air, but nobody moves. Sirius opens his mouth as if to respond. But then his attention is brough back to you. His expression is unreadable, and you trust that yours is too.
“Be honest with me,” he whispers, removing his hand from your waist to give you room to flee. “Because I don’t want to stop unless you do.”
You’re stunned into silence as you search his face for any sign of doubt or humor. But there is none – just a quiet patience that makes you feel safe, even as your nerves web with the undeniable pull of desire. Slowly – tentatively – you lean forward, your lips brushing against his. Sirius tilts his head, deepening the connection and igniting a spark in your chest. Warmth travels through your entire body, his hand going back to squeeze your waist. Your head dips back onto the mattress as your tongue moves against his.
“That’s good,” Remus murmurs. The approval in his tone makes you shudder, and you pull back just enough to glance at him.
His gaze softens – not just on Sirius but on you – and before you can process it, he moves toward the bed. He kneels beside you, his fingers brushing along your cheek.
“You’re captivating,” he said with a faint smile. “The way you move together—it’s mesmerizing.”
Your lips – already wet from Sirius’ kiss – part as he leans in to bridge the gap. It’s feather-light at first until your lips move against his. In response, he presses closer – though still contrasting with Sirius’ heated energy. Remus’ kiss is a steady, powerful pull that reaches further than your lips. Sirius’ thumb continues to trace small circles at your waist against the rising tension.
“Absolutely breathtaking,” he said, his eyes flicking between you and Remus.
When Remus finally pulls back, his lips hover close to yours. His expression was awash with a reverent wonder that makes your pulse skip.
His hand cups your cheek gently as he whispers, “Does this feel right to you?”
Swallowing, you nod, words barely finding their way past your lips. “It does.”
At your affirmation, Remus smiles and turns his head toward Sirius. The two of them exchange a look that speaks volumes – more than words can convey – before Sirius eases back onto his heels.
“Alright, lovebirds,” he teases lightly. “Move over, yeah?”
You laugh softly, nerves and excitement blending into a flutter in your chest. Sirius shifts back on the bed, bringing you closer as his hands plant firmly on either side of your thighs.
“Raise up a bit for us, gorgeous.”
You push yourself up on your elbows as his words dip low enough to have you exhaling shakily. The weight of their attention settles over you as Remus moves onto the bed more fully. His hand rests lightly on Sirius’ shoulder before he places it over yours.
“Look at you,” Sirius admires, his eyes raking over you. “Utterly stunning.”
Remus’ hand slides down your arm, his thumb grazing over your wrist as he adds, “And so patient with us, too. You’re lovely.”
Your heart races, your mind now gone to mush from arousal. But a part of you still hesitated.
“You’re both okay with this?” you ask, your voice barely above a breath. “I don’t want to ruin anything…”
“You’re not—” Remus’ thumb stills its movement as he briefly looks to Sirius. “We want this – if you do.”
Sirius gave a small, almost nervous smile, his voice unusually tender.
“We’re in the same boat here – this is uncharted for us, too. We’re… figuring it out as we go. But we’re here with you. If you want to stop, just let us know.”
Their reassurances melt the last bit of doubt you’ve been holding onto. You’re unsure of how to respond without sounding too desperate. Sirius brushes his thumb along the curve of your knee as the cogs whir in your mind.
“I’m here,” you finally say, attempting to meet both of their gazes. “For this. I mean… yes.”
Sirius’ grin widens, his hands sliding along your thighs, stopping just short of the undergarments that barely covered you. Remus shifts closer, his hand steadying your back as he whispers against your ear.
“Let us take care of you.”
The weight of their attention – their words, their touch – it is almost too much, yet not enough. Your chest rises and falls quickly, your body caught between nervous anticipation and desperate want.
The fabric of the babydoll dress feels weightless against your skin, but under their gaze, it might as well have been nothing at all. Sirius’ hands skim along your thighs, his fingers curling around the hem where the gauzy fabric met bare flesh. He wets his lips – betraying his worry – his eyes flicking up to meet yours.
“Please,” you urge him.
The moment stretches until Sirius moves, lifting the hem higher. The cool air ghosts over your skin as the thin garment slides up and over your head, leaving you in little more than lace and silk. His hands hover just shy of your hips, his restraint is evident.
Remus brushes the back of his knuckles along your jawline, tilting your face so your eyes meet his. He leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. “So beautiful.”
A tremble runs through you as Sirius lowers himself onto the bed. His eyes are calculating and somehow still wild, his fingertips tracing an idle path down to the curve of your thigh. “Still with me, Moony?”
“Always,” Remus replies. His hand slides to your cheek, thumb brushing over the apple of it as he guides your attention back to him. The corner of Remus’ mouth quirks up when he notices your needy expression. “Go on, Padfoot.”
Sirius lets out a breathy laugh, his grin holding all its usual mischief. “You’re really enjoying yourself up there, aren’t you?”
Remus chuckles but doesn’t take to the bait, his focus staying on you.
“She deserves to feel worshipped,” he says simply, his fingers continuing their gentle path along your cheek and jaw. “And you need to stop talking and start showing her.”
The words have you squirming just as Sirius lowers himself further, anticipation curling in your stomach. He kisses the inside of your knee first, the softness of his lips igniting a spark that travels up your leg. His hands splay over your thighs as he presses a trail of slow kisses higher. Remus’ voice stayed low in your ear, his words the soothing counterpoint to the fire Sirius was stoking.
“You’re doing so well.” His lips brush the shell of your ear.
Your breathing hitches as Sirius’ mouth finds the sensitive skin just above the edge of your lace underwear. His hands slide down your thighs, steadying himself as he presses his lips just above the waistband. His eyes flick up to you when you whimper – dark and full of intent – before he glances at Remus.
“Like this?” Sirius asks almost playfully.
Remus’ hand slides down to your shoulder, squeezing gently. “Perfect.”
Sirius’ lips continue their descent, his hands anchoring you in place as he draws closer to the dampened spot on the smooth silk of your underwear. You shiver when his breath hits your arousal and finally let out a moan when he slowly licks a stripe over the fabric.
“Does this feel good?" You ignore the teasing lilt in his voice as he asks you this.
You nod, a breathy “Yes” escaping before you can second-guess yourself.
Sirius chuckles under his breath before lowering his head again, lapping and tasting you through your garment. His hands slide under your thighs, lifting them slightly to give himself better access. The intimacy of his touch sends a wave of heat through your body, and you can’t help the soft sounds that tumble from your lips.
You can’t find the concern to care that this isn’t even your lingerie that you’re wearing – they were only for the shoot. But Sirius’ tongue is so hot, and the fabric is so delicate that you’re starting to get dizzy. Remus whispers praise in your ear as Sirius continues his ministrations, Remus’s thumb brushing along the corner of your mouth.
Sirius raises his head from between your thighs to briefly fumble with pulling your underwear to the side. You weren’t prepared, and the barest hint of air against your folds has you whining. He doesn’t waste another second, gliding his tongue along your slit. You hadn’t even noticed that Remus had pulled your hair back to press his lips and draw softly at your neck. Your eyes flutter closed, consumed by the sensations. When you moan again, you’re met with the vibrations of an open-mouthed hum against your heat.
Sirius’ lips finally wrap around your clit, sucking gently, and it’s completely overwhelming. Your breaths come out in quick pants at the heat and deliberateness of his mouth, each movement precise yet filled with a hunger that’s impossible to ignore. Your hips rise to meet his mouth when he pulls away for only a second. Remus catches the movement, his hand slipping to your back to support you, still guiding his lips against your skin. You’re not even sure how you’re still sitting up.
After a few seconds of bliss, Sirius raises his head again, causing you to groan and Remus to chuckle.
“We aren’t keeping you from another shoot, are we, darling?” he asks, the roguish curve of his lips glossy with his spit and your arousal.
“No,” you respond, shaking your head after finally catching your breath. “No, you’re not.”
-`♡´- summary: Your first time working with Sirius and Remus - of course you're going to be nervous.
-`♡´- contains: model!sirius, model!reader, photographer!remus, modern au
-`♡´- masterlist
-`♡´- word count: 1.3k
-`♡´- a.n: this was the oneshot that made me have a two-month writer’s block… this was gonna be so much longer but I literally cannot LOL
You narrowly miss a huge puddle as you speed-walk as fast as you can to the location of the photoshoot. You haven’t checked your phone, afraid of it slowing you down, but you can feel you’re late.
Holding the handle of your umbrella tighter, you mutter curses under your breath. What a great first impression, you think to yourself. My first time working with a high-profile model and photographer, and I’m late. You’re sure your agent is going to murder you.
The hotel exuded chic sophistication: polished wood surfaces gleamed under the soft glow of amber pendant lights, and an energetic buzz fills the air as the team flits between tables. Your shoes click against the floor as you slip through the entrance, heart pounding. The strap of your bag was slipping off of your shoulder for the third time since you’d stepped out of the taxi. A quick glance at your phone confirms it – late. Not disastrously, but enough to have you inwardly groan.
“Brilliant start,” you murmur, tugging your bag back into place and folding your umbrella.
Before you spiral too far into self-recrimination, a voice cuts through the muted din of clinking glasses and conversations.
“There she is!” The rich, velvety voice carries across the room, instantly turning heads. Your cheeks warm as you hurry toward him, your steps a mix of soft clicks and light bounces. He leans casually against the bar, his grin as radiant as the spotlight he so clearly deserved. “We were starting to think you’d been kidnapped by a rival agency.”
Your shoulders sag with relief, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You hope your voice doesn’t sound as unsteady as you feel. “Wouldn’t that have been a story?”
Sirius pushes off the bar and strolls over for proper introductions. His charm is practically tangible. Just as he reaches you, another figure merges from the cluster of crew members setting up. Remus approaches with a clipboard in hand – the perfect calm counterpoint to Sirius’ vibrant energy. His smile is soft and reassuring as his eyes meet yours.
“No worries,” he says, his voice lower and smoother than Sirius’ but no less welcoming. “You’re right on time for the fun part.”
You nod, the tension in your frame slowly unwinding. “Thanks. I was worried I’d throw everything off.”
Sirius let out a laugh, brushing it off with a wave of his hand. “Our world revolves around pretty girls like you. You could’ve arrived an hour late, and we’d still be waiting.”
Remus gives him a sideways glance, his lips twitching in barely concealed amusement.
“We’ve only just finished setting up,” he clarifies, his eyes crinkling ever so slightly.
“Come on then.” Sirius throws an arm out to gesture toward a corner of the restaurant where the stylist is. “Let’s get you sorted. Big day ahead, yeah?”
You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat as you allow them to guide you deeper into the space.
The stylist ushered you to a corner sectioned off with screens. The team works like a well-oiled machine in the background, and you see the occasional test flash of a camera. You can feel the liveliness, and it’s only heightened by the nervous flutter in your chest.
“This is yours,” the stylist says, holding up a dress with reverence. It was breathtaking: a sleek black silk that shimmers faintly under the soft lights, with delicate lace accents that hint at sophistication without overstating. The smooth fabric is cool against your fingertips.
Slipping behind the screen, you take a deep breath as you begin to change. The silk whispers against your skin, a perfect fit that clings to your frame in all the right places. Once dressed, you turn to face the full-length mirror propped against the wall, smoothing out any wrinkles in the fabric. Your heart races.
“I can do this.” You stare at your reflection like you can will the confidence into existence. “It’s just a shoot. With two very hot guys.” You bit your lip, rolling your eyes at yourself. “We’re professionals.”
The makeup artists gives you a final sweep of powder, a quick touch of a frosty gloss, and then steps back with a satisfied nod.
“You’re all set,” she smiles brightly, and the stylist chimed in with an agreement as she adjusts the strap on the dress.
You stand up and step out from behind the screen just as Sirius saunters over, his grin lighting up the space around him. He gives you a once-over, his eyes glittering with unmistakable appreciation.
“Feeling alright, love?” he asks, voice playful but with a sincerity that softened the edges. “You look so good; I fear I might get distracted.”
Your cheeks warm, but you manage a small smile. “High praise coming from you.”
“It’s only the truth,” he says with a wink, hands tucked casually into his pockets as if he hasn’t just made your heart skip a beat.
Remus, who has been adjusting the lighting nearby, glances up and chimes in. “He’s right. You’ll warm up as you go, I’m sure.”
You inhale deeply, letting their easy confidence in you take root. Your nerves don’t vanish completely, but they shift into something more bearable – a nervous excitement that sparked rather than suffocated.
“Ready?” Sirius asks, extending a hand toward the bar.
The first shoot begins just as you settle in front of the lights pointing toward the bar. Sirius is already in position, leaning against the counter with effortless poise. His tie is loosened just enough to seem rakish; his hair is tucked behind his ear to expose the left side of his face.
You step into your mark opposite of him, and every muscle in your body suddenly becomes hyperaware. His smile is maddening, his pose causal yet commanding. Meanwhile, you feel like a bundle of awkward limbs trying not to fall over.
“Alright, darling,” Sirius drawls. “Just pretend I said something devastatingly charming.”
You laugh nervously, trying to match his energy. But as the camera clicks, you realize how rigid you are. Your arms are still, shoulders tight, fingers curling like they don’t know where to go. It was like it was your first time all over again. You’re not usually this nervous. How does he make it look so easy?
“Relax.” Sirius clearly read your mind. He straightens slightly, rotating his shoulders in a slow, exaggerated roll. “We’re not mannequins. We breathe, we stretch.”
He demonstrates again, the movements so fluid it makes you want to sigh with envy. “Come on, try it with me.”
You hesitate, then mimic his shoulder roll. It feels ridiculous at first, but Sirius gives you an approving nod. “There we go. Much better already.”
From behind the camera, Remus steps forward, his gaze calm and steady as he considers you.
“Think about it like this.” His voice is thoughtful and deliberate. “If you were having a secret conversation with him,” he gestures to Sirius, “what would it look like?”
Heat rises to your cheeks at the thought. The idea makes you feel like you are being examined, and more like you were part of something intimate – something shared. You angle your head just a tad, letting the thought play out in your mind. And almost without meaning to, your lips part and the sides curve into a small smirk.
“Now you’re getting it.” Sirius smiles. He leans in, raising a brow as if he can hear the imaginary exchange you conjured,
The camera clicks rapidly as Remus’ voice cuts through occasionally. “Yes, that’s in. Hold that for me, love.” His praise felt sincere and grounding – a subtle tether keeping you steady.
“Perfect,” Sirius adds, his grin widening. “And just think – we’ve only just started.”
Bit by bit, you feel the tension eases out of you, and your movements become more natural. They keep the energy light, Sirius throwing in the occasional quip, and Remus’ steady voice offering praise like, “That’s gorgeous, stay there.”
-`♡´- summary: Having to borrow a book for Alchemy wasn’t your preferred way to meet someone. But when you begin to have conversations in the margins of a textbook with a stranger, you’re more than intrigued.
-`♡´- contains: does this count as a meet-cute?
-`♡´- warnings: i had to dig deep to sound like a very philosophical alchemist
-`♡´- masterlist
-`♡´- word count: 3.4k
-`♡´- a.n: this turned out longer than I meant it to be
You dreaded having to take Alchemy, but you were desperate for how it would look academically. And you were a little hopeful that you’d at least learn something interesting. You were wrong, for the most part. For such an interesting-sounding course, it was rather… repetitive at times. But you were going to stick through it. All you need is your parchment, trusty quill, and your book – and you’ll be set to pass before you know it.
You lost your book only halfway through the first week of the course.
You scoured through your bag, your dorm, the library, and even consulted with a few paintings. But it had vanished – as if swallowed by the very elements it was meant to explain.
You’d earned a stern scolding from your professor when you sheepishly revealed the status of your book’s location. But what could you do? It was nowhere you could find. The look on your face must have saved you from losing any house points, but she did make sure you knew that you were not to lose any more Alchemy books. Because the class was small and resources limited, she had said, you would have to share a textbook with a student who had a different schedule. You just hoped they weren’t the type to draw anything inappropriate that might somehow get you in trouble.
“Alright, fellow borrower.” You sighed before opening the book. “What wisdom shall you offer me in the form of crude sketches?”
But the person who you shared this book with was quite the opposite of what you had expected. They were already well ahead in the chapters and left some very insightful notes – it was brilliant, really. It made studying much easier – provided they were clever enough. Judging by the meticulous scribbles in the margins, they seemed to be.
Your fellow classmate’s handwriting was immaculate—too immaculate for a typical student. Each and every page they seemed to go over was filled with tidy annotations in deep, almost-too-perfect ink – organized and detailed. There were no random doodles or ramblings – only sharp, precise notes that seemed to outline everything in perfect order.
In the following days that it was your turn with the book, you used the stranger’s notes to your advantage after writing your own. And, more times than not, you shared the same judgement and interpretation of the material.
You were almost catching up with them after setting a goal to surpass them somehow. A little academic competition never harmed anyone, did it?
As you leaf through the worn book one afternoon, skimming over all their highlights and notes, one of them sticks out in a later chapter. Right under the large title, a note was left. One that was unusually snarky for your mystery annotator.
Another whole chapter on transforming lead into gold. Lovely.
A slow smile graces your features as you huff in amusement. They were right, of course. You weren’t sure how many times the subject would be taught.
Your fingers hover over the next page, still trying to absorb the information on metallic transmutations and their metaphysical connections. But your mind keeps wandering back to that note. Whoever it was you shared this book with was getting just as tired as you were – that was a comforting thought.
As you continue your reading, you found more dry comments pointing to your book partner’s growing exasperation.
This is the worst example of alliteration I’ve ever read. Was the author asleep?
And:
Yes, because THAT’S going to come up in the exam.
You were starting to appreciate the break from unnecessary hyperbole that were forcefully crammed together with academic jargon.
The next time you dive into a section, words were mostly underlined. It isn’t until you reach a particularly dry explanation about the relationship between alchemical substances and human nature that you come across another note. You roll your eyes at the overly complicated metaphor about the “sublime unity of opposites” and “the celestial influence of Jupiter” before reading what your partner had to say about it.
More painfully obvious metaphors. At least pretend to be subtle.
The bluntness of it has you exhaling a laugh through your nose. And, before you can stop yourself, you grab your quill and scratch a quick reply in the margin:
Pretending to be subtle doesn’t sound very subtle to me.
A small part of you is regretting what you just did, and you wonder if it was foolish to write back. After all, you weren’t sure if they would appreciate your retort or if they’d even read it. But then again, you are bored and desperate. The small thrill of talking to a stranger in such an unconventional way follows you even after turning the page.
You were halfway through the next chapter when you stumble upon yet another pretentious phrase. The author had described Principia Alchemica – the title of the book – as “a seminal text in the canon of alchemical studies.” You can’t help it. The more you read, the more the book’s lofty language makes you cringe. You always thought Alchemy was meant to be more practical, but this text made everything feel so abstract – so high minded. That’s why you left another note:
“A seminal text.” Sounds messy.
You weren’t too proud of it, but it made you snort just a little. It was a bit cheeky, but honestly, this whole thing was starting to feel like an unnecessary circus of symbolism. You won’t really wait for a reply, but you wanted to let the stranger know you were up for conversation.
A few days later, you open the coursebook again, flipping idly through the pages. You freeze when you spot it.
Glad to see someone else who knows this text is a bit… much. Good one.
You blink. Had they actually replied to you?
Smiling, you continue with your studying since you didn’t have long with the book tonight.
It doesn’t take much time to reach another chapter so weighed down with metaphor that you start to wonder if the author had forgotten they were writing a textbook and not a bad novel. They had seriously chosen the wrong profession. Every chapter feels like wading through a thick swamp of unnecessary poetic language, the concepts buried under numerous layers of parables that strain even your patience.
You skim over the paragraph for the third time, using all the literary skills you have in order to dissect whatever spiritual connection the author was fabricating. He must have been on drugs, was your final verdict.
The author waxed lyrically about “the juxtaposition between the earthly and the divine” and how it reflected in the journey the human soul must take through sin, suffering, and reaching an eventual enlightenment. By the time you reached the end of the paragraph where you swear the author was just repeating the same sentence differently as a form of manipulation, you felt as if your brain had hopped out of your cranium and hung itself to dry.
You frown, your eyes flicking to the margin where another note was scrawled:
If I have to read the word “juxtaposition” one more time, I’ll scream.
You exhale sharply, nearly laughing out loud in the library. You don’t hesitate to reply.
You’ve just written it, mate. Enjoy screaming.
There was that thrill again at seeing your words next to theirs. Somewhere out there, your mysterious book-sharing partner was going to see that and—well, you don’t know what they’d think. But that was part of the fun, wasn’t it?
The thought lingered with you for the rest of the day.
The next Alchemy period, you crack the book open again, pretending to follow along while your professor drones on. You eagerly look for your last note, hoping for a response. Sure enough, it was there – nestled beneath your note in the same sharp handwriting:
Touché. I suppose I’ll suffer through the screaming for now. Are you trouble?
Your lips twitch as you read it. Trouble? You weren’t sure about that, but this was the most fun you’d had in Alchemy since the term began.
Only when the material calls for it. Should I include your tidbit in my study time, or is that just for me?
You tap the end of your quill against the desk, staring at your reply as you tune back in to your lesson. Somehow, this back-and-forth was making the endless drudgery of Principia Alchemica bearable.
You wondered if they felt the same.
The next few days pass in a haze of classes, coursework, and the usual chaos of Hogwarts life. But you were mostly looking forward to every spare moment with the Alchemy book. The weighty tome, which had once filled you with dread, now seemed a little more stimulating.
You’re slouching in one of the armchairs by a fireplace, trying to power through yet another mind-numbing chapter. You were hardly paying any mind to the information – you were more focused on reading the response awaiting you. Your patience is rewarded after you’re done with the tangent on the “alchemy of the human condition.”
I think the author’s overcompensating here. All he needed to say is that purification is about balance and focus.
You dip your quill into the inkpot and write back immediately:
Harsh, but valid.
While you continue to write notes and highlights further than they seemed to have read, you take the initiative to spark a deeper connection with your enigmatic book partner.
This book is absolutely suffocating, but you’re hilarious, so thanks.
You don’t expect a quick reply, but when you check the coursebook in the morning the next day, there it is – tucked beneath your own words:
Glad my misery can bring you joy. Cheers. – R
“R?” Did you know an R? You stare at the initial, tilting your head as if that might reveal their identity. The only people you knew whose names began with R were… well, not many, actually. A few names sift through your mind, but none of them feel right. Still, it was exciting to know the mystery stranger was willing to play along.
From there, conversations and replies were passed through the book more than actual annotations. You used a certain ink for your quill, so you don’t find it necessary to include your initial like they do. Or maybe you liked dragging out the revelation on your end?
You brace yourself for more of the author’s overly philosophical musings, telling yourself that the notes would be worth the metaphorical fluff. There was something about some kind of dance of opposing elements in an existential struggle of mankind that you almost skipped to read something left on the page’s margin.
This chapter is making me question my life choices. You? – R
Earning a sharp glance from Madam Pince for snickering, you scribble back:
I question mine constantly.
You were past the point of caring about what the punishment would be for vandalism. Using the dusty textbook as some sort of communication device was far too fun to pass up. As the days rolled by, the notes were less about the material.
You’re far too quick to suggest fire as a solution. Are you a Gryffindor? – R
Who knows. Are you this judgy about everything?
The following conversation came after a philosopher – Steel Pineneedle – was being referenced for his metaphor of the banquet and the Alchemist’s pursuit of the Magnum Opus. Replying came naturally now.
Or just how not to throw a party.
Their response had been:
Big fan of Pineneedle, are you? – R
The material quickly became background noise. It’s the notes – the exchanges – that keep you coming back. R’s latest message sat in front of you, and you’re struck by how different it is. They’d been teasing you about your studying habits, saying something along the lines of how you’re far too easily distracted. And as much as you roll your eyes at the fact that they’re probably right, you scribble back:
What kind of girl do you take me for?
Your quill lingers in the air, hovering for a moment as you realize the words may have come across a bit… flirtatious. You didn’t intend it to sound like that, but something about it has you smiling to yourself as you shut the book.
When you go back to the margins during your turn with the book again, you freeze.
There was a note with a line through it – but you could still make it out:
A proper fit one, I hope.
You stare at the crossed-out note, your heart skipping a beat. The handwriting wasn’t R’s, you realize. It’s messier, slanted at an angle – a more rushed penmanship. A message under that one – with a scrawling you could recognize – says:
Promise I didn’t write that – R
You breathe a little easier, though your face still heats up. If not them, who had it been? You hadn’t seen anyone else writing on the margins. A friend? The implication of R talking about you to their friends causes your thoughts to scatter. Oddly, you feel pleased.
You chew on the inside of your cheek, gazing at the text again and trying to read it in a different light. But the mystery deepens. With a sigh, you close the book – knowing it’s time for another round of waiting.
Having been buried under a particularly long Potions essay for a few days, you’d been neglecting the Alchemy book—and, more importantly, the notes. You feel a little bad reading over them. They had piled up in the margins, their familiar scrawl weaving through sections you hadn’t touched yet.
Your breath hitches when you stumble upon one:
It’s a good thing I’m patient, considering how distracting you’ve been. Did you finally get through that section, or am I still waiting for a reply? – R
They’ve been waiting for a reply? That’s… oddly sweet. And annoying – though the sweetness outweighs the annoyance. You bite your lip, trying to figure out how to respond.
My life extends beyond our little chats. Glad to know you missed me though.
Something about what followed your comment had you feeling like you were anticipating an outcome. Now, you didn’t have the gift of foresight – your performance in Divination was a testament to this – but your intuition was screaming at you.
You’re a terrible influence. What would our professor say? – R
Nothing you should be concerned about. Let’s worry about the trouble you’re having connecting the human spirit with mercurial fluidity and sulfuric heat.
This is starting to sound like a self-help book. – R
Tell me about it. I think I need a drink to get through the chapter.
You’re very quick to resort to alcohol. Might be an issue. – R
I can read past your jealousy. I’m sure you’d crack first.
Is that a challenge? – R
You find yourself replaying the idle moments as the days blur together. Each sharp-witted note you uncover, you follow like a thread leading you closer to someone whose identity remains vexingly out of reach. And then, after a few weeks of this strange and captivating camaraderie – it changes. A message greets you that’s unlike the others.
Care to meet me in the library? Tuesday, 5 PM. – R
The words seem to leap off the page, and you simply stare at them. Your heart picks up an uneasy rhythm as you read it over and over again. You’re sure you’re imagining it.
This person—this stranger who has been leaving pieces of themselves in the margins of your book—has asked to meet you. In person. Face to face. All the banter, the teasing, the sense of connection that has grown between you, they want to bring it into the real world.
The library is quiet, save for the occasional rustling of pages and the soft murmurs of the students studying in isolated corners. It was a typical afternoon in Hogwarts, the kind where the lights filter through the large windows and cast long shadows. The familiar scent of books and dust soothe your nerves enough to keep you from hanging your head low. You didn’t want to miss your stranger. You walk between the shelves, the weight of the textbook feeling heavier than it usually does.
You pause for a moment, looking around the library. You weren’t sure who you were looking for, and that made you feel a little silly. Another detail should have been disclosed to make this easier – but you were here now. That’s what mattered. Anxiety settles in your chest as you scan every soul in your vicinity.
You swear on your life that you felt an electrical shock when you made eye contact with him.
Well, you weren’t 100 percent certain it was him – but something about those eyes of his made your head feel lighter somehow. The connection was instantaneous. As you approach the table, your heart beats in tandem with your hurried steps.
“Right,” he says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, “so we’re off to burn the book, then go for drinks, yes?”
You blink at him, unsure if you heard him correctly. But then, as your brain computes the twinkle in his eyes and curve of his lips, you can’t help but laugh.
“Burn the book?” you ask.
“Only the bits where I feel like my soul is being drained,” he replies, now smiling wider. “You know, the usual alchemy stuff—‘the eternal balance of elements’ and ‘the metaphysical connection between human spirit and…’ well, whatever they go on about.”
He waves his hand dismissively, as though the words are already forgotten.
The tension in your shoulders eases. Maybe you were expecting a more awkward exchange. After all, you spent nearly a month swapping books and notes without ever knowing who he was. And now here he sat – in the flesh—someone whose personality had captivated you in the margins of a book.
“That sounds like a perfectly reasonable idea.” You smile to match his. “Will you be crying out Incendio? Shall I? Both of us at the same time?”
“Two’s better than one, I suppose. I’m Remus. Lupin.”
You tell him your name.
Sitting across from him, a quiet thud comes from the book as you drop it onto the table. There is a moment of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable – more like the pause between two people who had known each other longer than the two of you have. You glance down at the book, the one that had sparked all these bizarre, random, and unexpectedly enjoyable conversations.
“Burning it might be a bit dramatic,” he admits, tapping the side of his finger on the edge of the table. “But I think we could do better than just analyzing it. We could always talk about something else.”
You cock your head, intrigued. “Like what?”
“Like…” He pauses. “Anything that doesn’t involve alchemy specifically. We’ve already done enough of that.”
You lean back in your chair. “What else do you have in mind?”
“Well,” he begins, shifting forward in his seat, “we could always talk about how you’re planning on surviving the rest of the term. Because, trust me, I’m not sure alchemy will be the thing that gets you through.”
“Survival,” you repeat, “that’s dramatic.”
“Ah, but it’s fitting, isn’t it? Given the state of our coursework.”
The two of you shared a laugh, and for a while, the world beyond the table felt distant.
You weren’t sure what to say, so you decide to change the subject, asking, “So, what now? You’ve been quite the mystery for weeks.”
“Now?” His voice is quieter. “Now, we figure out how much trouble we’re really in for. Marginalia on a textbook not owned by either of us is still a form of vandalism, so…”
You raise an eyebrow, about to respond with a sharp retort when he holds up a hand, cutting you off.
“Only kidding.” He smirks. “But really, you’ve been a great distraction. I suppose we ought to talk about something else before we get caught talking about it.”
The two of you share another glance, the silence stretching out comfortably between you again. You want to ask more—who he was, what he was really like—but the words didn’t quite come out. Instead, you simply smile back at him.
“I guess we’ll have to wait for our next round of punishment,” you say, your voice lighter than you expected. “But in the meantime, drinks?”
-`♡´- summary: You and Sirius are lounging on a balcony while he smokes. He’s talking, but you’ve barely been listening—you’re too busy silently admiring him.
-`♡´- contains: smoking with Sirius, fluff, face kisses
-`♡´- masterlist
-`♡´- word count: 549
-`♡´- a.n: ugh im such a sucker for soft little kisses
You wrap your arms a little tighter around yourself, waiting for your body to work its magic and warm you up. The cool, late evening air seems to have a personal vendetta against you – but you’re not moving. Not after he’s invited you to join him for a smoke; just you and him. You don’t know how he does it – how the cold doesn’t seem to faze him. He’s leaning against the stone balustrade, his shirt half-open, and not even a shiver to acknowledge the temperature. The glow of the cigarette dances between you, smoke curling and spiraling lazily toward the sky.
You’re half-facing him, left thigh pressed firm against the cool stone while he talks. The distant sound of sirens and cars were long forgotten when he started speaking. His velvety voice drones on as it blends into the chorus of noise beneath the balcony. You’re not paying much attention, and, knowing Sirius, it was about nothing in particular. He taps ash off the cigarette on the stone near your hand, and your eyes follow the movement. You hum in acknowledgment to whatever he had just said, but you’re past pretending to listen.
You’ve let your gaze trail along the line of his jaw about a million times now—the hollow of his throat, the little notch where his collarbones meet. And he knows. Of course he knows.
He cocks his head, catching your eyes just as you’re admiring the curve of his mouth. There’s a faint twitch at the edges, something wicked lighting up in his gaze. Slowly – and deliberately – he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip. He’s daring you to do something he knows you won’t. An annoying, traitorous thump in your chest is as subtle as a bludger to the head.
He lets smoke swirl in his mouth then tilts his head to exhale into the air. From his lips, you watch it unfurl, and before you can even register the shift, he’s got two fingers hooked through your belt loops. The gentlest of tugs, and suddenly you’re standing between his legs. The warmth you craved earlier now where his fingers curl into the fabric, your breath catches as you feel his thighs press against you.
“Fancy a drag?” he asks, voice a little rough now as he holds the cigarette up to your lips.
The pad of his thumb grazes the corner of your mouth. You’re not entirely sure which is more intoxicating – the taste of tobacco or his touch. You lean in, lips parting just enough to take it, eyes never leaving his.
He’s watching you so intently – memorizing every second – every hitch in your breath. When you exhale, he’s already moving to press a kiss on your cheek. His lips are warm and just as soft as you expected them to be, and the thought sends a warmth trickling down your spine. Another follows, this time to your jaw. He’s methodical about it, dragging his lips down the line of your jaw to just beneath your ear. He pauses there, breath hot on your skin. You feel him smile before pressing another kiss – firmer, more intent. His nose brushes against your temple as he moves to continue his affections, and you shiver.
The cigarette’s still between your fingers – forgotten – burning slow.
Omg sorry I just saw now that your blog is pretty recent so you don’t have one yet 😭 Don’t want to pressure you, I was just getting excited!! So don’t feel obligated to respond to the last ask lol🫶🏻 But do take the compliments though, I meant them!! I’m gonna read every fic you have when I wake up tomorrow 😌 (I sadly do need sleep). Can’t wait!!💖
Hi my beloved and new found treasure, how are you doing? Just read one of your fics and lemme tell you I’m already down bad for your writing. It’s succulent!! I wanna binge read everything now, that’s why I’m asking if you have some sort of masterlist pretty please?
Lots of love 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻
hiiii sweets, im procrastinating on cleaning at the moment, how are you? <3 right now i only have the three posted on my blog, ill link them under here anyway. i have a remus fic that's queued for friday because it's longer (but i have it up on ao3 already) and i wanted to post two more works before i made a full masterlist.
-`♡´- summary: The idea of a quickie in a closet had been a tantalizing thought at first. But the reality of trying to fit three adults into a broom cupboard led to a cruel reality check.
-`♡´- contains: kissing, fondling
-`♡´- warning: suggestive themes (nothing too explicit but still 18+), mentions of tight/confined spaces
-`♡´- masterlist
-`♡´- word count: 1k
-`♡´- a.n: i didn't feel like writing smut but decided to write about a quickie in a closet without the quickie. i don't know either
The cupboard was small. Too small, really, for three grown adults to squeeze into comfortably and do anything other than stand there. The faint smell of dusty cedar lingers in the air, mingling with the earthy scent of Remus’ cologne and the sharp, slightly sweet tang of Sirius’ favorite hair pomade. A single light bulb above flickers briefly, casting shadows that were far too dramatic for the occasion.
Sirius Black, of course, had thought of this brilliant idea.
“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” he’d said earlier, with that trademark smile that could convince you to do just about anything. The proposition—a quick shag in the closet—had seemed thrilling, spontaneous, and utterly tantalizing at the time. Shamelessly, you hadn’t even hesitated to agree.
Remus, on the other hand, had hesitated plenty. His brow had furrowed deeply, arms crossed over his chest as he’d regarded Sirius with the air of someone evaluating whether the juice was worth the squeeze.
“This is by far the stupidest idea you’ve come up with,” he’d muttered, and yet he still followed the two of you inside. Because no matter how stupid it really was, he couldn’t say no to either of you.
And so, here you all were.
“Well, this is rather cozy,” Sirius says brightly, wedged between you and Remus in a way that left no room to breathe. He stood angled slightly toward the door and facing you, his left shoulder brushing against Remus behind him. He was practically vibrating with excitement – his mercurial eyes darting between the two of you like he can’t decide who to kiss first.
“Cozy?” Remus mutters. “I can’t feel my ribs. Someone’s elbow is digging into my side.”
“That’s me, sorry about that.” You laugh, trying to shift without toppling the precarious balance of limbs and bodies. Every movement would seem to send someone else stumbling in the cramped space.
“You two have absolutely no sense of adventure,” Sirius teases, leaning in toward you with a sly smirk. His hand brushes against your hip as he nuzzles your neck, his hair tickling your cheek. His warm tongue traces a ticklish, shivering path on the side of your neck. “Live a little.”
Remus sighs audibly, his breath warming the back of Sirius’ neck. “Living a little doesn’t usually involve being crammed into a broom cupboard like misbehaving teenagers.”
“Speak for yourself,” Sirius quips, turning his head to glance at Remus over his shoulder.
He fumbles with the buttons on your top for a moment. His enthusiasm is contagious, and you can’t help but laugh as his fingers miss the buttonhole twice before finally getting it. His hand trails up your side, pausing just above your bra before squeezing your breast. His free hand reaches back to tug at Remus’ tie – which had gotten snagged on something – to pull him closer. His lips find yours for a moment before he breaks away with a grin.
“Merlin, you taste good,” he murmurs against your lips, then making an attempt to capture Remus’ mouth next.
Remus tilts his head away just in time with a grunt. “Sirius, would you stop pulling my tie like that? I can’t—damn it, now it’s caught again.”
Stifling a laugh, you watch as Sirius – undeterred – tries to yank the tie free, only to accidently smack Remus’ face.
“Oi!” Remus exclaims, trying – and failing – to step back, only managing to hit the back of his head on a box.
“Sorry, Moony,” Sirius says quickly, flashing the man a sheepish smile.
“You’re like a hurricane.” You reach out to steady yourself on Remus’s arm as Sirius shifts his weight again. You meet him with an open-mouthed kiss that melts into laughter when you accidentally tug on his hair in a not-so-sexy, clumsy manner.
“Excuse me for being passionate.” He shoots you a wink before turning his full attention back to Remus, who looks like he was about five seconds from strangling him—with his tie, no less.
“Passionate or not, you’re standing on my foot,” you remark pointedly, trying to wiggle free from his weight.
Sirius glances down apologetically, lifting his boot just enough to release your poor toes. “Better?”
“No. You’re still too tall.”
“I'm with her.”
“And what are you, Moony?” Sirius scoffs. “A very dainty giraffe?”
“This isn’t going to work,” Remus complains, though he makes no move to leave. Instead, his large hand squeezes one of your hips, stabilizing you as his lips brush your temple.
“We’ll make it work,” Sirius says confidently, nudging his nose against Remus’.
He steals a kiss from Remus, effectively silencing the sarcastic remark that was surely forming on his lips. You stand on your tiptoes and kiss the corner of Remus’ mouth before finding a tender spot on his neck, gently sucking at the sensitive skin. You lift your head as your ears catch the sound of a small metallic clink of Sirius undoing Remus’ belt. One of Remus’ hands goes to cup the side of his boyfriend’s face, moaning into his mouth as you gently stroke him through his boxers. Still wanting to keep his tongue in Remus’ mouth, Sirius attempts to blindly take your shirt off.
“Careful, Padfoot,” you warn with a smirk.
“Oh, come on,” he groans dramatically – his other hand flailing to find something to steady himself on. His palm lands on a precariously balanced shelf, which wobbles ominously.
“Watch—” Remus starts, but it was too late.
The entire shelf rattles, sending a cascade of mismatched scarves and random knickknacks raining down on the three of you. The room erupts into laughter as you all try to shield yourselves from the minor avalanche. The giggling was infectious now, none of you able to take the situation seriously anymore.
Still giggling, the three of you finally managed to untangle yourselves from the small room. You stumble out into the open space of the room, blinking at the sudden brightness and stretching like you’d just escaped a prison.
Your hair was a mess, Sirius’ shirt long-lost, and Remus’ tie was still hanging on for dear life. None of you cared.
“That wasn't so terrible. Maybe we just need a bigger place?” Sirius throws an arm around both you and Remus.
“Not a chance, Black.” You snort, swatting at his arm. “No more closets.”
-`♡´- summary: A late-night conversation with your best friends—Sirius and Remus—leads to playful confessions. The three of you assume enough time has passed for any romantic feelings to fade. But the awkward silence that follows suggests otherwise.
-`♡´- contains: confessions, kissing
-`♡´- masterlist
-`♡´- word count: 3.9k
You’d never believe the whole “friends-of-the-opposite-gender-can’t-exist” nonsense. It always kind of seemed like an excuse. A way for people to justify turning casual friendships into something way more complicated than they needed to be. In fact, you hated hearing it. You always brushed it off with a sigh or an eyeroll. After all, you had plenty of friends who didn’t fit into those narrow definitions. Until that one night.
You weren’t much of a pub-goer, but that night, something strange pulled you there. Maybe it was the dull hum of the city that night. Or maybe it was the promise of a drink you didn’t have to make yourself. Either way, you found yourself tucked into a corner of the first loud, dimly lit place you could find. You nursed a glass and enjoyed the atmosphere, staying just close enough to any brawls for free entertainment, but safely away from getting hurt.
During your little adventure, you stumbled upon a very drunk man, and his very apologetic friend. Actually, it was more like he had stumbled into you – literally.
Sirius Black was an intoxicated mess of long, unruly hair and had the kind of energy that could ripple through the air like static electricity. One minute, you were sipping your drink, minding your own business. The next, you were knocked sideways by a body that practically materialized out of nowhere. You tried to catch your balance but only ended up stumbling backward.
“Shit! Sorry! I didn’t—” His own laughter interrupted him as he tried to untangle himself from you.
Before you could even process the situation, another presence appeared – calm, collected, and letting a string of “sorry”s fall from his lips. Remus Lupin, his sober friend, helped both of you up with a surprisingly gentle grip.
“You alright?” Remus asked, his voice soft but sincere. His eyes roamed over your face with a mix of concern and just a mild amount of amusement. You found yourself nodding before you could even stop yourself.
Sirius, meanwhile, was still rambling apologies, his words tumbling clumsily over each other in a way that made it clear he wasn’t entirely control of his brain at the moment.
“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to—” He paused, staring at you with wide, doe-like eyes. “But, hey… you’re alright. You look alright. Maybe even better than alright.”
You blinked – slightly confused – before shaking your head with a smile.
“It’s fine. No harm done.” You straightened, brushing yourself off.
He turned toward his partner, his attention already shifting to something else.
“Moony,” he slurred, nudging his shoulder. “Get the beautiful thing a drink, yeah? It’s the least I can do after practically throwing her across the pub.”
Remus gave him a pointed look with a raised eyebrow, but he didn’t object. Instead, he reached into his jacket pocket for some cash. A small laugh bubbled up from your throat. The absurdity of it all made you suddenly realize how amiable they both were together.
As Remus went off to grab the drinks, Sirius took a step closer to you. Thinking back on that moment, it had been a little too close, but it felt… oddly natural. He grinned, still a little wild-eyed. You could tell that despite the graceless introduction, he exuded a sort of warmth that was impossible to ignore.
“So,” he started, as if you’d known each other forever, “Why are you at a place like this by yourself, gorgeous?”
It was cheesy, and it was a clear attempt at flirting. You’d find out that the drunker Sirius got, the worse his flirting was. You never let him live it down from that day on. But in that moment, there was something about it – the light in his eyes, the tilt of his head – that made you grin.
Before you could respond, Remus returned with drinks in hand. He was a little bemused by Sirius’ antics but was clearly used to them.
“You alright?” He asked, handing you your drink with a small smile.
You accepted it gratefully, still processing the oddness of the situation. “I think so. I’ve survived worse.”
Remus chuckled softly and stepped back, more comfortable now that the initial awkwardness had faded. Sirius, however, was still standing a little too close to you. His smirk widened as he took in your drink and then glanced at Remus.
“See?” Sirius said, raising his glass. “I’m not completely abysmal.”
Laughter passed between the three of you, the unexpected bond sinking in quietly.
Even then, you still had the firm belief that you could strictly stay platonic with friends of the opposite gender. They couldn’t count, right? For starters, there were two of them. And, you quickly learned, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were an inseparable package deal.
Okay, maybe you did have a crush on both of them at one point. But it was almost like they actively tried to make it impossible for someone not to be at least a little infatuated by them. Remus had a quiet charm—the kind that lingered in his soft-spoken words and surprising wit. His pensive gaze always carried an air of controlled intensity. It felt like he was trying to understand you down to your very soul – but never in a way that felt invasive. He carried himself with a reserved elegance, shoulders slightly hunched. If you ever had the pleasure of picking up on a mumbled retort of his, you were sure to laugh. The scars that crossed his face only added to the enigmatic air of mystery around him. He was always your source of calm – perfectly balancing Sirius’ chaos.
Sirius was a natural flirt – his beauty so striking it was almost cruelly unfair. He carried himself with a confidence that tipped toward arrogance, but never quite fell over. That was thanks to the way he could charm the socks off anyone in a heartbeat. He tended to look at people like he could eat them alive if he wanted to – in a violent and sexual way. Everything about him was larger than life – his laugh, his humor, his confidence – and it was hard not to be swept up in his orbit.
They didn’t shy away from touching, either. Sirius didn’t seem to know the meaning of personal space – always draping himself over the nearest friend he could find. He’d sit too close, his thigh squished against yours. Or he would lean in too close to make a point, lips quirking into that devilish smirk whenever he noticed your cheeks flushing. And Remus, although more reserved and respectful, was the kind of person who would grab your hips to gently move past you. Or he’d kneel in the middle of the pavement to tie your shoe before you even realized it had come undone.
There were loads of times that you could have justified having a crush on them.
Like that one time you’d walked straight into a pole, and while Sirius was laughing his ass off, Remus wore a worried look on his face.
“You alright, love?” he whispered, his hands tentative as they cupped your face, tilting it gently to inspect for any damage. His touch was warm, and for that brief moment, the whole world seemed to fade away. You hadn’t realized how badly you needed the comfort until it was there.
But it wasn’t just his hands or the softness of his voice. It was the way his brow creased in genuine concern for you, his amber eyes scanning yours as though searching for something deeper than a bruise.
“You had me scared for a second. Can’t have you broken just yet, can we?” His lips curled into a smile, his thumb gently brushed against your cheek.
You managed a sheepish laugh, waving him off with a dismissive, “I’m fine.” But even as you spoke, he remained. His hands fell from your face to your shoulders, steadying you. Sirius grinned, striding over to you both.
“Oi, let me coddle her too.” Before you could react, he slung an arm over your shoulders and pressed his cheek to the side of your head. “You’re alright, love, aren’t you? Say it’s so, for my sake.”
Or that time you’d brought Sirius a drink at a party.
He was talking someone’s ear off when you found him – gesturing wildly as he launched into a tirade. It wasn’t unusual for him to dominate a conversation. His voice was always a little louder than necessary, and his laugh could cut through the room like a knife. He was magnetic, in that way only Sirius could be.
You didn’t even think about it as you grabbed his empty cup and swapped it for a fresh one. You slid it into his hand so seamlessly that it took him a moment to notice. But he always notices when you do something.
When it seemed he finally did, he stopped mid-sentence. He glanced at the new cup and then at you with a look of exaggerated delight, like you’d just handed him a winning lottery ticket. Without missing a beat, he grabbed your face – careful not to spill his drink on you – and planted a big, dramatic kiss on your cheek.
“Oh, I just love you, darling,” he beamed, eyes sparkling with mischief.
And then, just like that, he turned back to his conversation. He picked up right where he’d left off, as if nothing had happened.
How could anyone not be totally, madly in love with them?
… Definitely not you. That’s for sure.
Your feelings seemed to die down when they began dating each other about a year into the blossoming friendship the three of you shared. It was only a matter of time for them, and you knew that. They shared a longer history, and, truthfully, you had assumed they were already a couple when you first met them. You had even offered advice to both men on how to approach the topic with each other. You were happy for them, and despite the coupling, there was never a time the three of you weren’t together. The dynamic didn’t change much, either. Well, aside from those moments when you’d step out of the room for only a second and come back to Sirius practically devouring Remus’ face.
The soft, creamy glow of the table lamp illuminated a small portion of the room they had designated as yours after purchasing a flat together. Sirius is sprawled casually on top of Remus, his chin resting on his folded arms. You are next to them, propped up on your side, a pillow tucked beneath your elbow.
While Sirius casually leaned into teasing you as he often did, Remus just… was. The way his hand subconsciously finds its way into Sirius’ hair, twirling a lock between his fingers, spoke volumes without either of them acknowledging it. You knew them both like the back of your hand – their habits and quirks as familiar as your own heartbeat. But in those quiet moments, you’d find yourself wondering what it would’ve been like if the timing had been different. What if you were a little braver?
No. You are grateful for what you have now.
“Remember our first impressions?” Sirius asks suddenly.
Oh, that’s right. The anniversary of that night was coming up. The three of you had been friends for three years now – three years since that night at the pub. Three years of shared moments and laughter.
You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, you tripped over me and nearly knocked me out cold.”
Sirius grins, eyes sparkling with mischief. “That’s not how I remember it. I’m pretty sure I was just making a graceful entrance, and you were too starstruck to see me coming.”
You roll your eyes, and Remus chuckles beneath Sirius, the heat of his hand still resting in his boyfriend’s hair.
“You were a drunk and clumsy fool,” Remus says tenderly and full of affection.
Sirius shrugs melodramatically with a sigh. “Alright, maybe I was a little clumsy. But I’m glad we did have our little run in with each other. I’m pretty sure you were already in love with her by then.”
You freeze.
Remus stiffens, but Sirius is undeterred.
“Moony and I have talked about this, and I think enough time has gone by for this to not be as awkward, but…” He pauses for dramatic effect, turning his head toward you, a sly grin on his face. “I actually had a crush on you.”
Your eyes widen slightly, and you fight to keep your jaw from dropping. You were certainly caught off gourd by the sudden confession. You chuckle, brushing it off with a teasing shake of your head.
“Oh, come on. You’re just messing with me.”
Sirius’ grin stretches wider, and he looks like he’s not going to back down.
“I’m serious,” he insists, though the humor still sparkles in his eyes.
“Not this again.” Remus groans.
But Sirius only looked more pleased with himself. “Oh, don’t act like you weren’t gone for her too, Moony.”
Your breath catches in surprise. The comment he made about Remus being in love with you after the first meeting – you thought he meant it as a joke. Your eyes flick toward his face, where he held an unreadable expression.
“What? You’re telling me you had a crush on me too?”
“Oh, you definitely had him wrapped around your little finger.” Sirius raises his head from his arms to narrow his eyes at you before turning to Remus. “Remember that time—early on—when she fixed your tie for you?”
Remus closes his eyes briefly, silently begging a higher power to take him away as his face turns red. You fight the urge to bury your face in your hands.
“You remember that, right? I saw you. You practically turned to stone when she did that. That was the moment I knew.”
“Sirius, please…” Remus lets out an exasperated sigh, but you can see the edges of his lips twitching upward.
You can’t help but smile at the easy camaraderie between the two of them. It was one of the things you love most about being with them – how natural and effortless it all felt.
“Alright, fine. Maybe I did.” He finally looks at you before returning to stare at Sirius. “Can we move on now?”
“That’s so crazy,” you say, fighting back a big smile. “I remember having a little thing for you two as well.”
The laughter that followed filled the room, the three of you lost in the silliness of the confessions. But as the laughter gradually fades, a sudden silence blankets the space. It wasn’t uncomfortable—quite the opposite, actually—but it carries an undercurrent of something deeper.
When what you revealed finally sinks in, you think you must have misheard yourself. What you said was a joke you hadn’t realized you were about to make, right? You weren’t sure if the sudden heat in your cheeks was from the admission or the way the air in the room had shifted so subtly that it was almost imperceptible. It was as if the past three years of friendship, of teasing, of little moments like these, had all been stripped of their platonic certainty and were now clouded by scrawls of “What if?”
The silence is so thick you can almost hear your heartbeat echo in your ears. The room feels suffocating with the weight of unspoken feelings – as if the walls themselves are holding their breath.
You exchange a glance with Sirius. He’s not looking at you with the usual carefree glint—there’s something else buried beneath it now. Something that makes you think twice before meeting Remus’ gaze. He’s looking at you too, but his eyes are softer, more searching than you’ve ever seen before.
In the stillness, you can hear Sirius’ fingers drumming lightly against Remus’ shoulder. Then it stops, and the sound fades to be replaced by the thrum of your own pulse in your throat. Remus’ breathing slows, and you can see the way his chest rises and falls with a rhythm that seems too deliberate than it should.
Your gaze flits between them. Back to Sirius, then Remus. The question hovers in the air, and even though it’s unspoken, it’s painfully palpable. It’s a question you’ve been trying not to ask for the past few years. It’s one that lingers in the corners of your mind every time they look at you like this.
Then, just as the moment stretches taut and thick, Sirius breaks the silence in the only way he can. His voice is casual – too light – almost too loud for the moment.
“Well, that’s enough emotional exposure for one night!”
He rolls off Remus, flopping onto the bed and causing the springs to protest. His hair spills across the pillow, messy from where he had been lying on top of Remus. The tension that has been building up snaps like a rubber band that’s been pulled too tight. It’s broken—but not completely gone.
You can’t help but notice how Sirius’ cheek is flushed with something more than just playful exhaustion, his lips curling into a mischievous smile. He stares at the ceiling in contemplative wonder before he distracts himself by kicking his feet up into the air.
Remus’ gaze is still on you. He looks at you, a beat too long, like there’s something he wants to say but can’t find the words for.
Before either of you say a word, Sirius is already pulling him back into the moment. With a theatrical sigh, he drops an arm around Remus’ chest, yanking him into an easy, lighthearted conversation again. The three of you move on as if the confessions hadn’t resurfaced feelings you thought had vanished a long time ago.
The room is dark, save for the weak glow of the moon filtering through the windows. You can’t sleep. The silence is suffocating, its heaviness too distracting to lull you into sleep. You’ve been staring at the ceiling for far too long.
You can’t take it anymore.
You throw the blanket off you with a frustrated huff and slip out of bed. The cold floor grounds you slightly as you head for the door. Maybe a glass of water – or two – could satiate the drought in your throat.
You pad carefully toward the kitchen, instinctually trying not to wake them, knowing both are probably already asleep in their room. The hallway feels endless, your footsteps muffled against the cool wood beneath you. But as you pass their door, something stops you.
A voice.
You freeze, eyeing the light that filters from the space between the door and the floorboards, because maybe your ears were deceiving you. The voice is low, almost too faint to make out. I shouldn’t eavesdrop, you tell yourself – but your feet betray you. You move before you can stop it, drawing closer, until you’re standing close enough to hear. Your heart is racing in your chest.
“Pads, it’s not that simple,” Remus’ voice comes, steady and low.
Sirius huffs from the other side of the room, the sound of the sheets rustling in the quiet.
“It’s exactly that simple, Moony. We just… we tell her.”
Remus sighs in a way that tells you the weight of his thoughts—of this apparent proposition—is pulling him down. “At two in the morning? I think she’d appreciate not being woken up to… this.”
“Because we’ll keep putting it off otherwise!” Sirius’ voice rises before hushing again. He’s trying to gather the right words, being left frustrated but determined. “I can’t keep doing this, Remus. I can’t keep looking at her and pretending like I don’t want—like we don’t want…” His voice trails off, the vexation lacing every word, the quiet desperation in his tone is unmistakable.
Your stomach flips. They’re talking about you, aren’t they?
“I hate it.” He continues. “Feeling this way and not saying anything. It’s like it’s going to rip me apart, and I know you feel the same. Don’t you?”
Silence takes place again, then Remus’ voice breaks the quiet.
“Of course I do, Pads. But what if…”
Your chest tightens. What if? What if what?
There’s a creak of the bed. Then Sirius’ voice intensifies again, louder now. “No. No more of this. Let’s just go talk to—”
“Sirius, it’s the break of d—”
The door swings open.
You don’t have time to step back. You freeze – caught – and there he is. Sirius. Standing in the doorway, his hair tousled, his grey eyes widening as they meet yours.
With no warning, he steps forward. His hands find your face as he pulls you into him. His lips crash against yours with a fierce intensity that you’ve come to expect from Sirius Black.
The kiss is sudden, messy, and it knocks all the breath from your lungs. It feels like lightening, sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. His lips are demanding and desperate, with an undeniable tenderness guiding them too. He sighs against your mouth, his shoulders relaxing as he leans into you. You can’t breathe – can’t think. Everything is buzzing, spinning, and all you can focus on is Sirius.
When he finally pulls back, he huffs in satisfaction.
“There,” he says, as if he’s finally put everything to rest. His hands fall from your face, but his gaze lingers.
Behind him, you can hear Remus groan. He rubs a hand over his face in exasperation, through there’s a subtle smile tugging at his lips. “Well, I guess we’re doing this now.”
You blink, still standing there and completely speechless. You’re sure you must be dreaming right now as your mind races. You open your mouth to say something – anything – but Sirius doesn’t give you the chance. He turns his head to glance over his shoulder at Remus.
“Oh, don’t act so surprised,” he says. “You wanted this too.”
Remus raises an eyebrow, attempting to keep his composure. He rises from the bed and steps forward, closing the small gap between the three of you.
“I’d have gone about it differently,” he teases. He pauses, his gaze locking with yours, his smile widening just a fraction. “But… I supposed he’s not entirely wrong.”
You’re nestled between them, the quiet warmth of their bed wrapping all three of you like a cocoon. Sirius’ arm drapes lazily across your stomach as his fingers trace patterns and shapes on an exposed bit of skin. Remus’ hair tickles your jaw as his head rests against your shoulder. Sirius shifts slightly, propping himself up on an elbow to look at you. His stormy eyes flicker with something almost boyish.
“You’re finally ours now,” he says with a satisfied grin.
The words hit you square in the chest, sending a flurry of fluttering wildly in your stomach.
Remus huffs. “Couldn’t have put it more poetically, could you, Pads?”
Sirius snorts and rolls his eyes. “Excuse me for not wanting to keep pretending like we haven’t been living in a ridiculous tension-filled love triangle for the last few years.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Remus mutters while you laugh. He glances at you, his amber eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them.
Sirius leans in with zero hesitation, catching your lips in a kiss. It’s playful but loving, and your lips curve into a smile against his. Pulling back, he flashes you one of those grins that causes your face to heat up. He tilts toward Remus next, with the kiss being slower, and filled with the same easy intimacy that’s always existed between them.
When they part, Remus raises his head from your shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. He moves, placing another kiss to your cheek, then your temple, his breath warm against your skin.
“Goodnight,” he whispers against your hair.
Sirius’ arm tightens around your waist as Remus’ fingers lace with yours.
-`♡´- summary: James works at a local roller rink as the “music guy,” controlling the playlist from his booth. You’re there almost every night he is, and – without fail – you always request the same song. James believes he should tease you about it tonight.
-`♡´- contains: james being a cheeky bitch, roller skating
The roller rink is alive with the energy of the weekend. The bassline of the current disco hit thumps through the speakers, shaking the very foundation of the glossy wooden floor. Neon signs in bubbly fonts advertise everything from tonight’s soda specials to skate rentals – their lights reflecting off the mirrored walls. The aroma of food fuses with the scent of sweat and smoke. A massive disco ball spins in the center, scattering splashes of light it catches onto the gliding skaters below. Some stumble awkwardly, clutching the railings as they try to find their footing. While others weave effortlessly through the crowd like they were born on wheels.
Up in his elevated DJ booth, James Potter leans back in his chair – legs propped on the counter as he surveys his domain. He wore his signature pair of aviator sunglasses - prescription, of course – the tinted lenses reflecting the flashing lights. One hand was perched lazily on the mixer, the other twirling the cord of the rink’s mic as though it were a lasso. Yes, James Potter thought he was hot stuff on these nights. His grin was as cocky as it was unbothered – like he was the king of the roller disco. In his mind, he might as well have been.
It wasn’t a bad gig, really. He got free food, he could give his mates all the discounts he wanted, and he was given the power to control the speakers. That was a power he loved to abuse.
All in all, he got to control the music, watch people embarrass themselves on skates, and—most importantly—catch glimpses of you. You, who skated by his booth at least once every session, your movements so smooth they bordered on hypnotic. James would never admit it to anyone, but you were the highlight of his nights here. And you always—always—requested the same song each time he had the privilege of being in your presence. And he found that incredibly endearing.
He catches sight of you now, weaving through the crowd like you own the place. It’s dizzying watching your feet—and your outfit stood out in the best way possible. You were wearing his favorite pair of denim shorts that you owned. Oh, he was in for a night. James can practically feel the wind you leave in your wake as you skate past his booth, glancing up at him with a raised brow and a pointed finger. He groans loudly, making a dramatic show of rolling his head back against his chair.
“No,” he mouths, apparent enough so that you can see. “Absolutely not. I refuse.”
You just sneer and skate backward a few feet, your hands thrown up in mock surrender—for now. You spin gracefully and disappear into the crowd again, leaving James beaming.
With a resigned sigh, he reaches for the turntable, already queuing up the familiar opening notes of Sylvester’s “You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real).” He isn’t going to play it just yet—not until he had his run first. For now, he wants to let the current track ride out, leaning forward to adjust the sliders on the mix. His mic cord twirls idly in his hand as his eyes dart back to the rink. He searches for you again in the sea of movement.
The song is almost over when he finally spots you. You were cutting across the floor beautifully, picking up speed. James’ smirk grows as he taps the mic against his chin, debating his next move.
The melody of the last song fades into a hum, and for a brief moment, the rink is filled only with the sound of wheels gliding over polished wood. Then James’ voice crackles over the speakers, smooth and a little too smug.
“This next one is dedicated to the skating superstar who’s requested it…” He clicks his tongue, making direct eye contact with you. “Oh, I don’t know, seventeen times this month?”
The opening synth fills the rink, but it is drowned out momentarily by the collective chorus of “ooohs” and laughter from the crowd. Heads turn in your direction as James’ words sink in. Your face burns hotter than the neon lights, and you have half a mind to strangle him. You stumble mid-stride, nearly colliding with another skater.
“Oh, for the love of…” you mutter under your breath, veering off the main rink and heading straight to the DJ booth.
James sees you coming at him like a gorgeous whirlwind on a mission. He turns in his chair, spreading his legs and sliding his glasses down slightly. He lived for your little tirades—he loved being the cause of them. The mic cord is still looped around his other hand as he watches you march up to the ramp leading up to him, your skates clicking sharply against the floor.
“Do you have to humiliate me in front of the entire rink, Potter?” you demand, crossing your arms as you reach the top.
“Humiliate?” he echoes with a chuckle, staring at you over the rim of his glasses. “I gave you a spotlight, babe.”
“Oh, is that what you call it?” you shoot back, glaring at him. “You’re lucky this song puts me in a good mood, or those ridiculous shades of yours would be flying their way to the snack bar.”
James’ grin doesn’t falter. If anything, it gets worse – to something more dazzling and charming. “I’m only just calling attention to your impressive streak.”
You groan, resisting the sudden urge to throw one of the nearest headphones at him. Instead, you jab a finger in his direction, your skates already pivoting to roll away. “Shut. Up.”
As you turn back toward the rink, James’ laughter follows you – bright and full of mischief. From his perch in the booth, he watches you glide back onto the floor, the music carrying you seamlessly into your routine. A routine he’s probably memorized fully by now. For a moment, he forgets about everything else—the crowd, the flashing lights. All he sees is you and that determined look on your lovely features.
The music pulses through the rink as you glide back into the crowd, the initial sting of embarrassment from James’ antics wearing off—mostly. The short moment of humiliation hadn’t been enough to ruin your night—though it never did. If anything, the adrenaline only fueled your skating, making your movements sharper and more precise. The rhythm of the music buzzes through your body.
Still, you can’t help but cast a side-eye at the booth every time you pass it. And, unfortunately for you, every time – James was ready.
“Smooth form, love,” his voice drawled over the tinny speaker system, rich with excessive charm. “I’d give it a 9, but you stumbled on that turn.”
Your wheels nearly faltered, but you steadied yourself, refusing to let him witness you rattled. Instead, you rolled closer, skating backward with effortless grace just to show off and throw him a pointed look.
The song shifts to something slower, with a funkier groove. The lights begin to dim, the multi-colored spotlights moving languidly across the floor. Skaters start to pair off, moving in unison to the beat. Others—like you—take advantage of the looser rhythm to glide freely.
You pass James again, and like clockwork, he is there and dramatically leaning into the mic.
“Don’t trip—I’m watching.”
The teasing lilt in his voice sends a delicious shiver down your spine. Your response is immediate, you raise your hand over your shoulder and flipped him off.
The sound of his laughter echoes fleetingly through the rink before he turns his mic off – but you swear you can still hear it. It seems to carry over the music and sounds of people, aiming straight toward you to ignite a flutter of butterflies in your stomach. It was always loud, genuine, and infuriatingly contagious. You can’t help but smile despite yourself, shaking your head as you turn back to focus on the rink.
James seemed to want to keep going all night. The sheer audacity that this man carried was enough to make you veer off-course, narrowly avoiding colliding with a couple found in an impressive synchronized spin. You mutter a quick apology, then directed another glare at him. James, of course, held no remorse for you. He was sitting back, reclining like he had nothing better to do than make your life miserable.
For the next few songs, he kept his commentary going, always waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Sometimes it was subtle – a low whistle or a murmured, “Careful, love,” just loud enough to make you look. Other times he would embrace the title of being a pest by goading you with what you assume he thought was a clever remark. Yet you refused to let him under your skin – tossing out your own quips, making gestures, or performing some impressive moves. Whatever he threw, you’d pick it up and throw it right back.
Eventually, you pull off to the side, your chest heaving from exertion. You use the half-wall for support, letting the coolness of the surface seep through your clothes as you take a long sip from your water bottle. From the corner of your eye, you can see James smiling ear to ear, waving at you with his fingers.
As you stand there, catching your breath, you can’t help but smile to yourself. Annoying as he is, James Potter had a way of making the rink—and the night—feel electric.
Even if he is an intolerable prat.
The familiar post-skate ache was already settling in, but you need a moment to cool off before heading home. Your water bottle was half-empty, condensation dripping onto your fingers as you sip. Around you, skaters flew by – laughing and chattering.
The scarcely audible creak of wood pulls your attention back to James’ direction. He hops down from his perch – landing with an unnecessary flair and swagger. As if jumping two feet was equivalent to jumping from a stage. He adjusts his aviators—which he still hasn’t bothered to take off and replace with his everyday ones—and makes his way toward you. With an unnecessary flourish, he hooks his sunglasses onto the collar of his faded band tee. His hair was an absolute mess, dark curls pointing out in odd angles. You sigh as he stops next to you on the other side of the half-wall.
“Big moment, Potter?” you ask dryly. “Finally need to see with both eyes?”
“Nah,” he says, taking a step closer and tilting his head just slightly. “Just wanted you to see how serious I am.”
“Serious?” You raise a brow, trying to ignore the way his presence seems to fill the small space between you. “You spent the last hour turning me into some kind of rink mascot. I think we passed serious about thirteen songs ago.”
James chuckles, a low, warm sound that somehow felt like it would always be meant just for you. “Can’t help it. You’re a crowd favorite.”
You roll your eyes but can't stop the tugging at the corner of your lips.
“C’mon, I know you’ve got some wicked moves.” He teases in a hushed tone. “I've even seen them in that same, old routine you do.”
You turn to face him fully, crossing your arms over the barrier.
“If you hate the song so much,” you begin, narrowing your eyes, “why do you keep playing it?”
“Maybe I like seeing you skate to it.” His crooked grin returns, and he shrugs.
The simplicity of the statement catches you off guard. You open your mouth to fire back a quickfire retort – but nothing comes. The warmth in his voice under the playful flirtation – the way he’s looking at you – has taken the fight right out of you.
The world outside the two of you seems to blur. The lights, the chatter of the rink, even the booming tune of the current track – it all fades. James has a way of making everything else feel like background noise, and you hate how much you actually find yourself liking it.
“Alright, superstar,” he says finally, pushing off the wall with a smooth motion. “How about you give me one last performance before ABBA start to play on a loop and riots kick off?”
You snort, shaking your head as he turns to go. “Uh huh. Make sure my next request is ready.”
James pauses, throwing a glance over his shoulder to give you a sincere smile, instead of his usual arrogant smirk. It lingers just enough to make your heart skip a beat.
