#remus fluff

And you, his incomparably lovely girl, had always received it with such radiant warmth: a smile that could rival the sun’s gentlest rays, a kiss to his cheek that left him flustered still, even a year into the comfort of your love.

You would unwrap the chocolate bar with familiar eagerness and take a bite, your laughter trailing behind you as you walked toward your next class.

That was all it took for Remus to make certain he never left his dormitory without a piece tucked away—because the joy that bloomed across your face whenever you beamed “Thank you, Remmy,” before pressing your lips to his cheek, was nothing short of a reward in itself.

To him, that small exchange was a thread that stitched itself into the very fabric of your love story.

Which is why, now, standing across from Lily Evans in the quiet corner of the library, Remus could scarcely process the words she had just spoken.

He stared at her, lips parted, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and silent injury. His voice, when it returned to him, was low and flat. “She hates chocolate?”

The words felt blasphemous, treacherous, as they escaped his mouth.

Lily gave him a look that balanced both sympathy and exasperation, as if she had long anticipated this moment and dreaded being the one to deliver it. "I’m sorry, Remus. I thought you knew. Honestly, I assumed you’d figured it out by now."

He shook his head slowly, brows drawn in quiet confusion. "No, no, that makes absolutely no sense. She eats it all the time. I give it to her every day, Lily!"

"Yes, Remus," Lily said gently, her tone soft but firm, "because she doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. She knows how much it means to you."

Remus stared at her for a long moment, and something subtle but significant shifted behind his eyes. "But I only ever gave it to her because I thought it made her happy."

"It does," Lily replied, placing a careful hand on his arm. "Because you gave it to her. Not because of what it was."

Remus looked past Lily, eyes unfocused, his thoughts spiraling.

He tried to recall every moment. Every time he had handed you a bar of chocolate with a gentle smile and a kiss to the temple. Every time you had taken it with a thank-you and a laugh, like it made you happy. It had felt like something sacred between you. He had always thought it was.

"How long have you known?"

"Since forever?" Lily said carefully, watching him. "Everyone knows Y/N hates chocolate, Remus. I thought you did too."

Remus exhaled, a slow and disbelieving sound. He pressed a hand to his mouth as if to ground himself. And then, faintly, as though speaking more to the universe than to her, he murmured, "I have been feeding her tiny instruments of misery every morning like clockwork, and she accepted it with grace I did not deserve."

Lily smiled, but her eyes were soft with understanding. "That’s love, Remus, and it goes both ways. But maybe next time… ask what her favourite treat is."

He gave a faint, breathless laugh, still trying to reconcile the odd ache blooming in his chest. "I will. Merlin, I will."

Which is how Remus, now two days later, found himself back in routine, standing just outside your arithmancy classroom with his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers, waiting for you. 

The hallway smelled like parchment and ink and something faintly sweet from the kitchens, and when you emerged—laughing at something one of your friends said—Remus stood a little straighter.

Your eyes found him instantly, bright and warm as ever, and you gave him that smile, the one that always made his chest feel too full.

"Hey, dovey," he murmured as you reached him, wrapping an arm around your shoulder in a quick hug. "How was your day?"

You beamed, already beginning to ramble as the two of you started walking down the corridor, hands laced. "It was so boring in the morning, but then Slughorn paired me with Mary for the new potion, and we actually didn’t mess it up for once. And oh, you know that weird Ravenclaw boy who always brings pickles to class? He—"

God, Remus had never been more in love.

He let you talk, content to let the sound of your voice wash over him like sunlight through a window on a cold morning. Your fingers stayed laced with his, as you gently swung your joined hands back and forth in that familiar rhythm you always slipped into when you were truly happy.

In that moment, with your laughter filling the space between you, Remus was especially happy to know that you were happy with him.

You suddenly paused mid-sentence and looked up at him with a soft frown. "Wait—what about you, Rem? How are you? Does your knee still hurt?"

His heart tugged at the way you remembered. He gave your hand a squeeze and shook his head. "No, love, it’s alright. I wrapped it up this morning. Feels much better today."

"Good," you said, then smiled when he reached into his satchel.

He pulled out a neatly wrapped little bar and offered it to you. "Brought you something."

Your eyes lit up at first, the way they always did when he gave you something, but then you blinked, taking the bar from his hand.

“This wrapping looks… different,” you said curiously, turning it over. “Did you change the chocolate brand?”

Remus didn’t say anything at first. He just watched you, his expression soft as ever, fondness written in every line of his face.

You unwrapped the bar, expecting the familiar scent of cocoa, but instead—

"Wait—this is caramel?" you said, sniffing.

"Mhm." he hummed, the sound low and pleased.

You looked up at him like he’d just handed you a puzzle you weren’t expecting. “Since when do you get caramel?”

He just smiled, slipping his hands into his coat pockets as he leaned a little closer, shoulder brushing yours with that casual, familiar ease that always made your heart skip.

“Thought I’d switch it up,” he said lightly, like it was nothing — even though, from the way he glanced sideways at you, it clearly wasn’t nothing at all.

You took a slow bite, still suspicious, but your eyebrows rose as soon as the caramel hit your tongue. “Oh! Wait—this is actually… really, really good.”

Remus turned his head just enough to catch your reaction, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. “I had a feeling you’d think so.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, lips twitching. “You’re being weird.”

“Am I?” he asked, all innocence and wide-eyed mischief.

You nudged him lightly with your elbow, the wrapper still in your other hand. “A little.”

He laughed under his breath, then reached over to gently swipe a bit of caramel from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. The touch was warm and brief, but it made your breath catch just slightly.

“So,” he murmured, “does that mean I should make a permanent switch to caramel?”

Truthfully, Remus had sworn to himself he’d never let you near chocolate. Especially now, with the knowledge Lily had casually dropped like a grenade two days ago, everything made horrifying sense. The way you’d force a smile, the slight wince you tried to hide, the polite little nod as you bit into something you clearly couldn’t stand.

But you were also you. And so, despite that little white lie he was keeping tucked behind a caramel-flavored peace offering, he couldn’t help teasing you anyway.

You rambled before you could stop yourself. “I mean—I don’t mind anything from you, obviously. I just think the caramel’s a really nice change from the chocolate, y’know? But of course I’d love whatever you gave me. Really. I just think this one is, like, such a good choice, Rem.”

Remus blinked in surprise, then laughed—an unrestrained, genuine sound that rose before he could stop it. His heart pulled tight in his chest, aching in that soft, familiar way it always did around you.

Because of course, even now, even with your clear dislike for chocolate, you’d still accept it if it came from him.

You’d eat something you couldn’t stand just to make him happy. You’d sweeten your words, cover the truth in kindness, and act like it didn’t bother you at all.

And here you were now, flustered and stammering and still trying to be gentle about the switch, just in case it hurt his feelings.

He looked at you like you were the most precious thing on earth. “Well then,” he said softly, “I guess caramel it is, dovey.”

You brightened immediately, smiling so wide it made Remus feel like he could float.

You stood on your tiptoes without thinking, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Remmy!”

And as always, he blushed.

Truth be told, Remus didn’t mind carrying two different bars in his pockets now—chocolate for himself, caramel for you. Because in the end, he still got his soft little “thank you, remmy,” still earned his daily kiss on the cheek, and—most of all—he still got to watch you smile like he’d hung the stars just for you.

On any other day he would have scooped you up in his arms and brought you to bed, but right now he was in no mood to be a gentle and considerate boyfriend. No, he was needing to be just the opposite, really. 

He stalked up to where you rested, climbing onto the couch, spreading your legs and positioning you so that you were on your stomach. He bent one of your legs, making it easier for him to slot between.

You stirred slightly, making a noise of protest, but doing little to fight him off or turn back around.

Remus paused for a moment, making sure you were still blissfully asleep. When your breathing returned to its deep rhythm, he continued on.

He hooked his fingers under your shorts and pulled them down your thighs, sliding your panties right along with them. He removed the fabric from you entirely, throwing them somewhere behind him, and settled himself in between your bare thighs, taking in the sight of your glistening cunt on full display for him now. Almost like you were waiting to be fucked.

Your hips moved on their own accord, the feeling of the cool air hitting your core making you grind against nothing. Remus watched as you squirmed under him, your hole clenching around nothing and clit throbbing waiting for him to pay attention to them. 

He quickly undid the button on his jeans, unzipping them and shoving them unceremoniously down his thighs, not bothering with kicking them off. His hard length raging, throbbing at the thought and sight of you.

He spit in his hand, bringing it down to coat himself, pumping a few times before lining up with your entrance. 

He ran his tip through your folds, coating himself in your arousal before pushing in. Slowly, he slid in, inch by inch, until he bottomed out, your velvety walls gripping him like a vise.  

He let out a breathy groan, his head thrown back, trying to restrain himself from fucking you fast and hard. He wanted this to last, he wanted you to stay asleep for as long as possible.

He looked down at your form, brows knit together and mouth slightly open in a silent moan, but still asleep nonetheless. 

He pulled out slowly before thrusting back in, burying himself deep into you. He gripped your hip and rolled his hips along yours, his pace slow and deep. Your pussy gripping onto him like it was made just for him. 

You let out a tiny, breathless moan. Remus glanced back at your face, your peaceful sleep still washed over you. 

He tried not to groan as he felt himself hit your cervix, the outline of his dick no doubt leaving a visible imprint on your lower tummy. He was upset he couldn’t see it, see the result of his large cock fucking into you, but right now beggers couldn’t be choosers. 

“Remus,” you sighed in your sleep. Remus chuckled to himself at the thought that you were probably thinking you were just having a wet dream right now, completely oblivious to the situation he created. 

He thrust deeper, his hips snapping to yours. Not rough or fast, but precise, deliberate in giving you the most pleasure possible. 

You stirred again, your thighs moving and eyes fluttering. Remus didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate when he heard your small whines.

“R-Remmy?” you asked, voice still coated in sleep. You gasped as Remus thrust particularly deep.

Remus could have cum right then, the cute, sleepy tone you used, the confusion washing over your features as you realized what was happening, as to why you were feeling so much pleasure in your dreams. 

“Am I dreaming?” you panted, whines and moans falling from your lips and mixing with the obscene sounds of Remus fucking into you, the wet squelching and skin slapping.

Remus choked out a laugh, done with trying to be quiet for your sake. “Yeah, baby, just close your eyes, yeah?” 

You gripped the couch below you. This was definitely not a dream, but it was a dream to wake up to.

You wiggled under him, his grip on your hip bruising as he using it as leverage to fuck you deep. You could feel him in the pit of your stomach, feel him actively rearranging your insides to make room for him.

You felt so overwhelmed, by just coming to consciousness and now on the brink of orgasm, it was all too much, you just needed a break. 

You reached around and placed your hand on his lower stomach in attempt to get him to slow down. You pushed at him to no avail, he simply laughed and grabbed your wrist pinning it to your back as he continued on fucking you how he wanted. 

You whined, kicking your legs and wiggling your hips out of his grasp. Your body fell limp against the sofa and you gulped down air, making use of this small respite.

Remus tutted behind you.

“Nah,” he said, gripping your hips again and pulling you back up. Your chest pressed to the couch and your ass in the air. He grabbed a throw pillow, stuffing it under your hips so you couldn’t run away again. “You were bein’ so good before for me baby,” he said, leaning down to kiss your temple, a thin layer of sweat coating your face and making strands stick to it. He lined himself back up behind you saying, “you were just layin’ there and taking it. Be a good girl for me again, yeah?”

He was buried in you in a split second, hips snapping to yours in a flash. You yelped, unable to move away, unable to take a break, the only thing you could do was lay there and take what he was giving you.

You cried out, pussy clenching down hard on Remus as he brought you right back to the tipping point. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he panted out behind you, “can feel you squeezin’ me. You wanna cum on my cock, love?”

Your body reacted for you, your cunt fluttering around his thick length. “Yes, yes,” you chanted, body being jolted forward by Remus. 

Remus’s thrusts became sloppy, his breathing ragged as he pulled you up, your back now to his chest. He held you tight, one arm around your torso and the other still in place on your hip.

“Gonna fill this sweet little pussy up,” he spoke low in your ear, breath fanning down your neck.  “Gonna feel me inside of you for days.”

He reached around your body, hand going straight between your legs, his fingers toying with your clit, applying just enough pressure for you to see stars.

You cried out,  your head falling back onto his shoulder, toes curling as you came around him. Your orgasm rushed through you, making your thighs shake and the breath leave your lungs. 

Remus placed a small kiss to your shoulder, his hips stuttering as he spilled into you. His seed filling every inch of you and cascading down your thighs onto the sofa. He kept rolling his hips into yours through both of your orgasms, savoring the moment and drawing it out as long as he could.

Remus held you against him as you both caught your breath, letting your bodies relax into each other. 

You turned to Remus, craning your neck to look at him, placing a soft kiss to his lips. “Goodmorning,” you giggled against him.

Remus smiles softly, reaching up a hand to brush some hair back from your face and then trailing his fingers gently down your cheek. "Sweetheart…" he murmurs, voice rough with sleep. He doesn't want to wake you up, not when you look so peaceful, but he knows both of you be late for class if you don't.

He sighs quietly, thumbing your cheek again. "Love? Wake up, please."

You let out a quiet noise of displeasure, clutching your stuffed animal closer - the only you can never sleep without, the one Remus is very much aware of. He has to stifle a laugh at the sleepy protests that leave you, watching the way you bury your face against the pink fluffy dragon's body.

He's not sure whether to find it adorable or mildly offensive that you seem to enjoy the thing more than him.

He runs his fingers gently through the hair at the crown of your head, leaning over slightly to press a soft kiss to the top. "Come on, sleepyhead," he teases, quietly amused. "Time to wake up. Can't have you missing class."

"Rem," you whine tiredly, half-asleep and shifting in his hold. "Five minutes."

Remus laughs this time, soft. He would love nothing more than to keep you here all day - warm in his arms, tucked just below his chin, where he thinks you belong - and skip the whole day. But as much as he wishes otherwise...

He pokes your shoulder, gentle. "Come on, sweetheart. McGonagall will have our heads if we skip Transfiguration, you know that."

You, of course, know this, but you make absolutely no move to leave the warmth of his bed or his hold. Instead, you snuggle closer, let out a content hum.

Meanwhile, Remus is trying very hard not to laugh again at how grumpy you are in the mornings. You're not usually much of a morning person, that much he knows, but it seems exponentially worse today. Still, it's almost endearing how grumpy you are when you're sleepy.

He pokes you again, a bit more firmly this time. "Sweetheart," he chides gently. "Stop being so stubborn and wake up. We have a whole day of classes."

Letting out a tiny huff, you blink your eyes open, clearing the haze of sleep from them as you glare at him - but it holds no real malice.

Remus grins, that quiet, lopsided one he only wears for you. "There you are," he murmurs, brushing a thumb under your eye where a smudge of sleep still lingers. "Good morning, sleepyhead."

"Dragon survived the night?" he teases softly against your skin. "He’s looking slightly rumpled."

"'s a she," you murmur grumpily. "And she is fine, thank you very much."

He smiles at your grumpy reply. You're utterly adorable when you're grumpy. And especially when you're being so defensive of that ridiculous pink dragon.

"Is that so?" he teases, shifting you a little so that you're tucked firmly in his lap. He reaches over to give said dragon a slight pat. "My apologies."

You huff again, but lift your dragon to press its paw on his face, for no apparent reason, just to tease.

Remus laughs, a soft, breathy chuckle. You're grumpiness is too endearing for him to take seriously. "Did you just have your dragon attack me?" he teases, still keeping his voice low as to not wake anyone else. "That's quite rude, sweetheart."

"She wants to sleep more," you grumble, resting your head back against his chest. "She is tired."

He lets out a quiet, indulgent sigh and rolls his eyes, but his arms wrap around your waist anyway, pulling you closer. "Of course she is," he says, voice still full of a fond sort of sarcasm.

"How about her owner?" he asks, shifting to brush his lips against your hair. "Is her owner tired, too?"

You nod, pressing your face against the soft fabric of his sweater - the one you'd knitted for him for Christmas, until your hands were sore, with the little crooked heart on the blouse pocket.

He's still watching you with that fond amusement, but he can't help but soften at the way you bury yourself in his chest. Remus knows you'll probably be completely different once you're awake and coherent, but he wants to savour this rare, vulnerable side of you as long as he can.

"Poor thing," he murmurs, one hand coming up on instinct to cradle the back of your head. "I guess I'll have to take care of both of you then, won't I?"

The warmth that radiated off you was so soothing, and in combination with the tender twist and coil of your fingertips through his hair, Remus really didn’t stand a chance—the low lulling call of sleep beckoning him forward. Unable to fight against the exhaustion that had been looming over him and the mental fatigue of the day’s emotional whiplash.

You felt the rise and fall of his chest slow, the small hum of his content sighs coming to a stop and his hand falling limp against your waist—sleeping.

For a long while, you continued to indulge him, carding your fingers through his hair, letting them settle at the nape of his neck—before slowly, delicately peeling yourself from him, adjusting the pillow beneath his head, the duvet over his body. Silently treading around the room to close the curtains in exchange for the small bedside lamp, switching on the diffuser as your exited—leaving the door just barely ajar.

Unfortunately for Remus, the ache of his limbs jolsted him awake not long after you left, his arm reaching out in search for the warmth of your presence. And the lack of your discovery cause a small pout to settle onto his lips, tossing and turning to get a look at the clock, 7:38pm, barely and hour and a half of sleep.

Pursing his lips together with a sigh of reluctance, he forced his way out of the duvet’s cozy embrace—a sharp wince making slipping into the air with first steps he took. Stopping at the door frame when he noticed the lack of life in the living room, the heavy trickle of water reaching his ears as he turned into the bathroom.

You hadn’t noticed him watching, perched on the edge of the bath, the sound of the running tap accompanied by your light absentminded hums—and the corners of his lips twitched up in admiration, as your fingertips glided through the surface of the water. After a few more moments of observation, he stepped onto the cold tiles of the bathroom, the flitting of light from his shadow over the burning candles alerting you to his presence.

Immediately your lips stretched into a warm smile, walking over to him and wrapping him up in your arms. His head instinctively fell into the crook of your neck, taking a deep inhale—letting you fill all his senses, mumbling into your skin. The vibrations made your shoulders inch up as a giggle bubbled in your chest, leaning back to meet his gaze—eyebrows raised as an indication for him to repeat himself.

His hands settled on the curve of your hips, walking you backwards till your back pressed against the sink. You still looked up at him, eyes swimming with a soft, silent fondness that made his throat dry—your hands trailed up his sides, over his chest and neck, running over his hair before residing on the curves of his jaw, thumb tracing lightly over the scar by his lip.

“What y’doing?” His voice low and hoarse from disuse.

You stayed quiet for a moment, drinking in his appearence, the disheveled mass of curls on his head, the cowlick at the front of one of his brows, the slightly sunked dark circles that rested beneath his eyes; “Mmm, just running a bath,”

He knew it was for him, if the candle placement wasn’t telling enough, the book he’d been reading resting on the ledge by the window was a dead give away. Remus hummed back in response, leaning down and pressing small kisses across your face, leaving the last against your lips, grinning into the touches.

When you eventually pull away from him, leaving away, checking the rising water level—almost ready—he switched to holding your free hand, trailing behind you as you walked to the other cabinet. Shockingly clingy considering his previous mood, it still brought a small smile to your face—trying to work around the one handed handicap situation he’d put you in. When you reached for a small packet, you made an attempt to unzip it to no avail. Turning to look at him, your words littered with a huffed chuckle—

“I’m gonna need my other hand, bubs,”

Something similar to a pained groan rumbled in Remus’ chest as he released your hand—opting to wrap his arms around your middle, head resting lightly against your shoulder.

Opening the packet, you waddled over to the bath, Remus still clinging to your back, taking the small scoop and emptying it into the water—small buds of lavender rising to the surface as you leaned and ran your hand through bath.

“Am I the main ingredient in your soup?”

His words were muffled against your skin and your body shook with the giggles that ran through you—adding another scoop and turning off the tap before spinning to look at him, lips still stretched into a grin.

Your hand came up under the hem of his jumper, fingertips ghosting over the warm skin of his torso, and he made no attempts to fight against you—removing his jumper in one swift moment while you murmured. “It’s a bath salt, it should help with the aches,”

He leaned into your hold, hands rubbing small pressured circles onto the top of his hips—beginning his light assault again, this time peppering small kisses along your pulse, drifting up to the thin skin behind your ears. His voice was low and gravelly sending shivers down your spine.

“Will you join me?”

Letting out a soft hum of approval, Remus waste no time mimicking your actions and ridding you of your top—dropping it to the floor, joining his with a small thud.

Greeted with the newly exposed skin, his lips trailed to the tops of your shoulders, fingertips skimming over your spine, reaching up to unclasp your bra and roughly tossing it behind him. Soft sighs spill from your lips, basking in the affection before you eventually breathed—“It’s gonna get cold, Rem,”

Only then did he detach from your skin slightly, and with a squeeze of your hips, he stepped back, giving you both space to shimmy out of your bottoms.

His bones thanked him as the water embraced him, leaning against the cold ledge of the bath, coaxing him forward, you took your seat behind him, arms cradling his body as his did before. His hum vibrated low against your skin when he felt the warmth of your lips against his spine. You reached up, plucking the small vial of eucalyptus oil—dropping a pipette full into the water as well as your hands.

Using the heat of your hands to work it into his skin, Remus’ eyes closed as you started to work the tension out of his shoulders—letting his head hang forward, basking in the soothing lull of the water, as well as the attentive press of your fingers into his aching muscles.

“Does that feel okay?” Your voice was just above a whisper, breathy and honeyed against his neck, thumbs working their way down, on each side of his spine—goosebumps forming in their wake.

“Mmmm, feels really good, love,”

Once your hands reached the base of his spine, they snaked round back to his hips—kneading lightly into the flesh, pressing small pecks against his shoulder blade. Taking extra care to work out the knots that formed under his skin before bring your hands up to his hair—saturating the curls with water, massaging gently into his scalp as his rested his head against your shoulder. Looking up at you, eyes filled with contentment.

Your voice was soft and soothing in his ears; “Close your eyes,” reaching over him and adding a dollop of shampoo into your palm before lathering, sighs of relaxation spilling form his lips when the sweet jasmine scent took over his senses. For a few long drawn out minutes, you worked your fingertips into him in relative silence—bar the gentle melody you hummed lightly, soothing something deep in Remus’ bones.

By the time you’d washed, rinsed and conditioned his hair—he was sure he’d fall asleep right then and there if he wasn’t careful. After a final hum, more breath than words, he murmured, “Your turn, love,” When you stood, stepping out of the water, Remus quickly shifted back, making space for you.

The surface of the water sloshing against his torso as you re-entered, instinctively you laid your head against his chest, absorbing the familiar heat that radiated off of him—you lay against him for a while, his hands holding yours, rubbing absentminded patterns on your skin. Dipping your head lower, you submerged your hair into the water—eyes closed, letting the low dulling whoosh of the water bounce between your ears.

Just before you lifted your head, you opened your eyes to find Remus, his sights already on you—unfairly fond. Shampoo already lathered in his palms, waiting for you to full re-emerge, the softest smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

He repeated your actions, rinsing and resting his chin on your shoulder. With a deep inhale through your nose, you turned to look at him slightly—he was all but melting into you—voice gentle and candied, “Feel better, Rem?”

His lips stretched into a wide, crooked grin—burying his cheek into the curve of your shoulder when he responded, “Much,”

You waited for a few more minutes before shifting forward, a pout etching itself onto his lips at the loss of contact. Reaching for a towel as you stepped out and over the edge the porcelain, when you turned back to him, his expression resembled that of a kicked puppy. Brows furrowed high on his forehead, pout curling down into a frown, his fingers gripped the edge as if he were going to pull himself out.

Instead, you leaned over to the window-cill, adding another few drops of oil into the water—you let your fingertips massage small circles onto the highpoint of his forehead, whispering to him—

“Stay in a little longer,”

His eyes were closed, sinking further into the water, your voice sounded almost hypnotic to him, mindlessly nodding to your words. Feeling the soft press of your lips against his temples before you padded out to dress and dry yourself.

It wasn’t long before Remus made his way into the bedroom, draining the bath just before his skin could raisin. His bed clothes were laid out on the side of the bed, warm to touch, and his heart ached at the extra lengths you went to to make him comfortable.

The loud whirring of the hairdryer coming to a stop as your turned to him, sitting cross legged in the middle of the bed—clad in a tank top and a pair of his boxer shorts, and as he got dressed he couldn’t help but admire, eyes glued to your form.

A half-exasperated smile twitched at the corners of your lips at his staring, bringing your hand down to at the bed with a few soft pats. Remus crawled into the spot you’d sat in, still warm from your presence. Towel hung loosely around his neck, tips of his hair still dripping onto it—he leaned back, arms supporting his weight as your leg swings over his, settling onto his lap.

His brows quirk up slightly accompanied with a lazy smirk, automatically shifting his weight to free his hands, letting them curve and rest on the round of your thighs. Rolling your eyes at him, but it had no real bite—your hands run though his wet tufts a few times, and his eyes are swimming with adoration.

Placing one small peck on his lips—puling away just a quick as you came in, and he found himself following your lips as they left. Only to be met with your finger, abruptly stopping his chase in its tracks—raising the hairdryer into his view a semi-smug, knowing grin extending across your face, tongue darting out to wet your lips.

The steady whirring hum of the dryer started and Remus squinted as the cool pressurised air hit his skin, one hand combing through his locs, the other shaking the dryer around his head. He let his hands wander over your skin, fiddling with the hem of his boxers on you, pads of his fingers drawing patterns against your thighs lightly, dragging the back of his nails down the exposed skin of your spine as you worked away.

When you’d finally dried the last section of his hair, Remus’ hands rested comfortably on the curve of your ass, and he couldn’t fight the temptation, pinching at the flesh. As the dryer bounced against the bed, you jolted on his lap at the feeling—a sharp gasp leaving your lips, swatting his shoulder slightly in feigned annoyance.

He barked out a laugh, palm rubbing soothingly over the spot, his head falling into the crook of your neck—body shaking insync with his laughter. Seamlessly, his hands continued on their wandering path over your body, pulling you closer into him as he pressed small kisses against your collarbone.

A huffed scoff slipped passed your lips as your breathed—

“Restless, are we?”

He didn’t respond with anything more than a dreamy sigh against your skin as he indulged further, basking in you, his lips moving languidly up the side of your neck. Words tumbled from his lips, muffled against your throat, a quiet confession lost to the warmth of the moment. Your hands find their way to his jaw, pulling him back slightly—he looks at you like you’d hung the stars in the sky yourself, slowly leaning up your lips murmuring again—clearer this time.

“I don’t deserve you,”

There was no time for you to protest, to correct his words before his lips were pressed against yours and his fingers were spread, wrapping around the dip of your waist—pulling until you were flush against him. The once slow, languid pecks bloomed into unrestrained, craven touches. He moved his lips against yours—yearning, the burning in the pit of his stomach suddenly too much to bare, indulging himself with rough kisses. He couldn’t help it; it was impulse—his heart swelled—overflowed with adoration.

You loved him like it was second-nature, easy—an instinct, and Remus didn’t know what to do with himself.

He’d become feverish, gripping onto you with vigor despite the mild ache of his joints, overwhelmed with affection for you, an airy “thank you,” passing his lips into the small space between you. Your fingers tangling the tufts at the base of his neck, detatching your lips, taking the opportunity to plant kisses all over his face, muttering against his jaw; “Don’t thank me, Rem,”

A low hum rumbled in his chest as you worked your way down his neck, littering kisses and nibbles along the way. His palms are hot against you, sliding under the fabric of your top, curling around the curve of your breast in a mean grasp, earning him a light gasp. In an endless pursuit for your lips, he took his oppportunity, the second your lips disconnected from his neck.

Bringing your lips together with a quiet groan, Remus was getting more handsy by the second, hands drifting and taking a bruising hold on your hips, driving your hips forward to rock roughly against his. Words muffled by your lips, hoarse and honeyed—

“So pretty,”

Your breath hitched as he guided your hips over his, the friction sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers dug into your waist, desperate, as if trying to pull you deeper into him, to feel you more completely. Your name tumbled from his lips between kisses, each syllable a whispered prayer against your mouth.

A soft moan slipping from your lips "Mmf—Rem," threading your fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to draw out a groan from deep within his chest. He shuddered beneath you, the tension in his body unraveling with each slow roll of your hips against his.

Holding your firmly before letting his back fall against the bed with a light thud, hand trailing down—slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. Squirming against him when the rough pads of his fingers made contact with your clit, making small teasing circles over the bundle of nerves, drinking in each sound that fell from your lips—rocking feverishly into his touch.

Detaching with a sharp gasp, head falling into the junction of his neck when he slipped in a finger, pushing, and curling upwards—whining into his ear, breathy pants of—”f-fuck, hah—Rem,”

Gods did he love the way you sounded, the sweet, almost melodic pitches your voice would make—how you try to focus on your breathing patterns, gripping hard onto his hair when he pushed a second finger past the ring of muscles, tightening the coil that blossomed in the pits of your stomach.

Breathing completely erratic, trembling against him, more heat radiating off you with each stretch and scissor of his fingers, curling and curling, making your head spin. Peeling away his harsh grip on your hips, to take your jaw in his hand—compelling your gaze onto him. Cheeks and lips flushed red—brows knit high on your forehead in pleasure.

Remus pushed your lips together, greedy, indulgent—wanting.

And as his fingers slowed, slowly pulling them away from your core with a shudder, you wasted no time wiggling out of your shorts, tearing his off of him with an urgency that forced an incredulous laugh out of him. Though, it was cut off in an instant—a rough groan forcing its way out of his throat when you straddled him.

The friction without clothes made him dizzy, twitching against your clit, jaw tightening when the rich, candied tone of your voice reached his ears—ringing in his head over and over—

“Wanna make you feel good, Rem,”

He couldn’t even appreciate the sight of you sinking onto him, eyes screwing shut, brow curling into an arch on his forehead, jaw slacking at the feeling of you—sucking him in further—inch after inch.

Fingers splayed over the pretty little happy trail to steady yourself, the air punching its way out of your lungs when you finally reached the base, a choked out, gasping moan sounded beneath you,“f-fuckkk,” reverbrating around the room.

And you gave him no time to recover, compose himself, push away the desperate clench that made him want to spill inside you immediately, no, your hips moved against him in harsh mean rocks.

His eyes rolling into the depths of his skull, hands gripping—clawing at the flesh of your waist, seeking a slither of mercy from your sinful bucks. It was hypnotising, just the feeling alone, the way you swallowed all of him, the dragging of your walls with each grind. And the angle—he was so impossibly deep, you couldn’t think straight if you tried, stretching you out, making your legs trembled by his side.

“h-haah, shit—dove, wait,”

He couldn’t contain himself, sweat beading by his temples, biting hard into his lip—his hips already stuttered a rough thrust up into you—forcing you to jolt forward, hands pressing firmly against his chest for stability.

Back arching, walls fluttering—clenching around him, mouth agape, the mantra of his name flowing from your lips in urgent gasping, cries “o-oh! rem, fuck—ngh,”

Forcing his eyes open, chest heaving as he drank in greedy gulps of air, trying to focus on anything but the delicious squeeze of your core around him—his breath hitched the sight of you. Utterly divine, kiss-flushed lips, wet and parted, brows pushed together, pretty lashes fluttering and flittering, pupils blown.

The soft smell of jasmine, vanilla and sex filling the room.

A breathless whimper leaving your lips when you rocked against him once more, feeling him prod that spot that made the heat in your stomach coil impossibly tighter. Your rhythm—it made his throat so painfully dry, the way you grinded against him, adding just a bit of pressure. It had his brain so cloudy, drunk on you, on the way you looked at him with the bleary half-lidded eyes.

He never wants to let you go—not now, not ever.

His palms kneaded the flesh of your hips unforgivingly, coaxing you to rock against him harder, raising his hips to meet each trembling buck of your hips. He was already so close, huffed groans endlessly spillling from his lips, curses littered with your name, voice shaking with each rock—

”f-fuck, so perfect, a-ah—angel,”

Remus’ pace was getting more frenzied and off beat with each lewd squelch that sounded from where you were joined, jaw clenched in efforts to keep him from teetering over the edge, completely at your mercy.

Your hands trailed up from where they were planted on his chest, in exchange pressing into the pillows beside his head, leaning into him—lips brushing against the shell of his ears, voice airy, candied and oh so sweet.

“does it—mmfp, feel good, rem?”

God, he was going to lose it, rutting up, frantically, into each rotation of your hips, each roll of your waist—stuttering as your teeth grazed against the thin sensitive skin behind his ear. Eyes rolling back in his head slightly before squeezing them shut for a moment. Swallowing thickly, words punctuating with low gasps, “o- oh god, s’good, s’good—need you to cum, dove—f-fuck,”

Taking one bruising grip away from you hips, and forcing it between you—rough pad of his thumb finding the swollen bundle of nerves that rubbed against him, your breathing became more unsteady and irregular, incoherent babbles tumbling out of you. Walls clinging to him desperatly as you hips twitched and spasmed against him, arms almost giving out beneath you.

The harsh thrusts of his hips, had him buried deep deep deep, thighs squeezing at his sides as your high washed over you, cries of, “nnfgh, rem, rem, rem—” filling the room, mixing with the strained gravelly moans that tore through him, stuttering wildly before stilling beneath you. Your body shuddering against his, hands still stuck to each side of your hips, shocks running through him as his filled you up—hoarse groans echoing in the room.

Jolts of pleasure still wracked over you, laying boneless against his chest as the aftershocks pulsed through your limbs, your breaths mingling in the quiet, sweat-slick warmth of the room.

Remus hadn’t let go—not even for a second. His arms secure against your waist, holding you close. His lips found your temple, pressing a lingering kiss there before murmuring, “You alright, dove?” His voice was hushed, still laced with the remnants of desire, but softer—gentler now.

You nodded against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. “Mmhm perfect,” you sighed, lifting your head slightly, “Didn’t hurt you, did I?” You only felt the shake of his head, carding your fingers through his hair.

His hands traced slow, absentminded patterns along your back, fingertips ghosting over your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine—not from want, but from the sheer tenderness of it. You could feel the way his touch had changed, shifting from need to something even deeper, softer.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured, already moving to press another kiss to your forehead before slipping away, shifting beneath you, reluctant but determined, carefully easing himself away despite how much he clearly didn’t want to let you go just yet. He pressed one last kiss to your shoulder before slipping out of bed, disappearing into the bathroom. The absence of his warmth made you shiver slightly, but he was back in seconds, a warm cloth in one hand, a glass of water in the other.

"Here, drink." He handed you the glass first, watching as you took small sips, his knuckles brushing against your cheek in quiet affection. Then, with gentle precision, he cleaned you up, his touch careful, attentive.

"Thank you, Rem," you murmured, voice drowsy—full of warmth.

He only smiled, shaking his head as he discarded the cloth and slipped back into bed beside you, immediately pulling you against his chest. "Don’t thank me, love,"

You curled into him, sighing as his hands resumed their slow, absentminded caresses—fingers gliding over your back, up your arm, through your hair. His lips pressed soft, fleeting kisses wherever they could reach—your forehead, your temple, the tip of your nose.

"There," he murmured, voice thick with exhaustion and warmth. "Better?"

You hummed in response, tucking yourself even closer. His scent surrounded you, comforting and familiar, and you could feel his heartbeat beneath your cheek, steady and strong.