#Harry potter writing

[sweetiecutie]

Hi! Would I please be allowed to ask for Regulus black smut + size kink please??

Pairing: Regulus Black x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, size kink, lots of ‘good girl’, daddy issues taming lol

A/n: this idea is absolutely mouthwatering. Wrote this in my heavy fit of daddy issues so beware.

Regulus is bigger. Always has been, even since you met in the second year of Hogwarts, when mostly girls tended to be taller than boys due to physiological reasons - he still was a few centimeters taller. With years, those few centimeters turned into few decimeters and now, in your seventh year, Regulus is almost two heads taller than you, causing you a lot of neck pain because you have to crane your neck while speaking to him and visually dwarfing you just by standing next to you.

- That’s a good girl, taking me so well, - Regulus murmurs softly, hovering above you. His forearm is resting on a pillows next to your head, propping up most of his weight, his other hand is wrapped around the base of his cock as he sinks slowly inside of you, preventing it from slipping out of your slicked tightness.

You mewl at the praise and tight stretch of your walls - no matter how often you two have sex, first penetration is always hard for both of you. Your own arms are wrapped around Regulus’ lean torso, hands gliding up and down his sides, caressing soft skin there with gentle touches.

He’s not all the way in. He never is. Even when he reaches so impossibly deep within you, his pink cockhead pressed tight against your cervix, creating a bump on your tummy - there are always about 4 cm left, your pussy too small to take all of him in. But he never complains. In fact, Regulus loves it oh so much, just how tiny you are in comparison to him. How cute you look when you struggle to take three of his fingers inside, how fucked-our you look just when he buries his dick inside of your tight little pussy, not having fucked you yet. And even if he wants a stimulation of his full length - he can always shove his dick down your throat, sometimes he wonders who gets off more from it, considering how blissed-out you look when he fucks your mouth stupid.

- That’s it, nice and easy, - Regulus coos as he buries his cock deep inside of you, your inner walls flutter around his mighty girth, trying to accommodate his size. His now free hand rests next to your head too, fully caging your body underneath his bigger form.

Black gives you some time to adjust, staying still while his hot lips wander all over your face and neck, leaving butterfly kisses and whispering sweet nothings and confessions of love into your skin. He starts off slow, pulling out just a bit and then rolling his hips gently back into yours, eliciting sweet moans and whimpers escaping your kiss swollen lips. Regulus picks some speed eventually, setting a rhythmic pace, just how he knows you like it - not too fast, but deep and firm, hitting all your right spots with his cock.

You buck your hips against Regulus, trying to impale yourself impossibly deeper on him, but one his big hand grips your hip tightly, effectively stilling all of your movements.

- That’s all right, little girl, none of that. Just lay there prettily as I fuck you into the mattress, mkay? - Regulus drawls from above you, small smile lingering on his handsome face as his eyes study your blushing face closely.

You pout but agree nevertheless:

- Mkay, - you copy his words, relaxing in his arms, letting him do whatever he wanted to your body. Regulus’ smile widens into a sly grin as his hips resume their previous tempo, fucking you into your bed just like he promised.

Your hand comes to cradle his nape, his skin there is wet with sweat from the strain of how good he fucks you, soaking wet those cute little curls on the back of his head. You bring Regulus’ face down towards your own, your noses bump together with every deep thrust of his hips against yours, his obsidian eyes never leaving your teary ones. A high-pitched squeal escapes your lips with particularly firm roll of your boyfriend’s hips, your eyes flutter closed, Regulus’ name on your lips like a mantra.

- Look up at me while I fuck you, - Regulus rasps and you force your eyes open again, staring up at your boyfriend with immense adoration. His thick curls fall on his forehead, getting into his eyes as he tries to blow them out unsuccessfully, your hand reaches up to card through his silky locks, combing them back from his face. - That’s it, look at me while I make you feel good, that’s my pretty little princess. Rub your clit f’me, yeah?

Your heart picks up pace at his choice of words, you unravel one of your arms from around your lover’s neck, trembling hand makes it’s way down to where your bodies connect, finding your clit and circling it in skilled moves. Your pussy tightens deliciously at added stimulation, clenching around Regulus tightly, eliciting quiet ‘fuck’ mumbled under his breath from him.

- Reggie, gonna cum, - you utter breathlessly and your lips brush against his with every word, he just pecks you encouragingly.

- C’mon, cum on my cock. Be a good girl and make a mess for me.

You feel your stomach tighten and you chase the feeling desperately, nimble fingers rubbing on your clit faster and sloppier, feeling warmth surely growing within you. It took only a few more thrust to send you right over the edge, white-hot sensation surging through your veins, filling every cell of your body with euphoria.

Regulus never stops, fucking you right through your orgasm; black eyes don’t dare to leave your beautiful face, trying to carve every second of your pleasure into his memory. His hips still only when you start whimpering from overstimulation, staying buried snugly inside of you.

You look up at Regulus with teary unfocused eyes, realization that he didn’t cum with you starts to hit slowly. But his lips are on yours already, shutting you up with a reassuring kiss, not giving a chance to start rambling. Bumping his nose against yours affectionately, Regulus pulls out of you carefully, giving your thigh a playful squeeze.

- Roll over on your tummy, baby. Gotta be a good boyfriend and fuck my girl nice and good, don’t you think?

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, they inspire me on creating even more content for you💖

[dracomalfoy7]

New Heights

Fred Weasley x Slytherin!Reader 

Summary: Y/N is a year older than Fred and after not seeing him all summer Fred’s growth spurt becomes…a surprise.

Word Count: 2.2k+

Warnings: Fluff, Swearingish?

A/N: Been back on Harry Potter TikTok and there are some good POV’s so I'm writing them for you guys ;) gif isn't mine. PS. My Request are open!.

You have always been close with the Weasley family. Your mom was best friends with Molly, so your summers were practically spent at the Burrow. You loved the chaos of it all—Percy with his nose in a book, Fred and George constantly trying to out-prank each other, Ginny tagging along with the boys, and Ron being the easy target of his older brothers' tricks. But it was Percy you were closest to. Only a year younger than him, you and Percy shared a unique bond. While everyone else was wild and adventurous, the two of you spent countless hours with him reading and you flying on your broom. Of course, you both loved to scheme against Fred and George whenever the opportunity arose.

When you finally got your letter to Hogwarts, you were ecstatic. Percy was already there, and you couldn’t wait to be sorted into Gryffindor and spend your school days together just like you had spent your summers. That didn’t happen, though. The Sorting Hat placed you in Slytherin. You were devastated at first, but it didn’t take long to realize that being in different houses didn’t change anything. You still spent every free moment with Percy, and more often than not, that meant time with his family as well.

That was how it had always been—until this past summer. When you were offered a spot in the exclusive quidditch camp. Though the decision wasn’t easy, Percy, being the ever-logical best friend he was, insisted you take the opportunity. "We'll always be here," he'd said. "But this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance."

And so, you went. The summer flew by in a whirlwind of practices, matches, and drills. You barely had time to write home, and when you returned to Hogwarts, it felt like you'd been gone for ages.

Percy greeted you at the train station with a tight hug, rambling on about his summer adventures. "Penelope Clearwater and I spent a lot of time together," he said with a small blush. You smiled, happy that Percy had found someone to share his time with. Then he continued, telling you all about the pranks Fred and George had pulled on Ron, and how Ginny had grown more into her own.

As the two of you walked into the Great Hall, you couldn't help but notice how different it felt coming back. Percy steered you towards the Gryffindor table where the rest of the Weasleys were sitting. Your heart lifted when you saw them—Ginny, Ron, George, Fred. They stood up to greet you, and you smiled warmly at them.

But then your gaze landed on Fred.

He turned to face you, and you froze for a moment, not believing your eyes. The Fred Weasley you had last seen before summer had changed—dramatically.

He had grown. A lot.

Fred Weasley turned toward you and stood up. The last time you'd seen him, he had been your typical gangly teenage boy, all limbs and grins. But now... well, now he was towering over your 5’3" frame. His shoulders had broadened over the summer, his face had lost its boyish roundness, and there was a new confidence about him that made your stomach flip unexpectedly.

"Y/N!" Fred grinned down at you, his voice a bit deeper than you remembered too. He enveloped you in a tight, friendly hug, the warmth of him surrounding you in a way that was strangely comforting and yet disorienting all at once.

"You’re taller," was the first thing you said when he pulled away, still looking up at him in disbelief.

Fred’s grin widened, mischief flickering in his eyes. "Noticed, did you?"

George piped up from behind him, laughing. "Fred n' I had a bit of a growth spurt, haven’t we? Over the summer, we especially him shot up like a bloody tree."

"Yeah, had a bit of a growth spurt," Fred said casually, though the amusement in his eyes suggested he was reveling in your reaction. "Quidditch does that to you."

"Quidditch?" you echoed, still staring up at him in disbelief.

"Yeah, been practicing loads this summer," Fred explained, crossing his arms over his chest. "George and I are aiming for professional teams once we’re done here."

You nodded, but your thoughts were still swirling. How had Fred changed so much in just one summer? It wasn’t just the height or the broader shoulders; there was something different about him. He seemed more... grown up.

"Y/N, you’re staring," Percy’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you turned to see him smirking at you, a knowing glint in his eyes.

Heat flooded your face. "I am not!" you protested, but Percy raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

Fred laughed, the sound deep and warm, and your stomach did another unexpected flip. "It’s alright, Y/N. You can stare all you want. I don't mind."

You felt a flutter of surprise, one you hadn’t expected. This wasn’t the Fred Weasley you remembered—this was someone else entirely.

Your brain tried to catch up with the change, but it was hard to shake the image of the Fred you’d known before. The one you’d spent years pranking, teasing, and playfully bickering with. You glanced back at Percy, who just gave you a knowing smirk. "It’s been quite the adjustment," Percy said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You turned back to Fred, and he winked at you. "Still shorter than you in spirit, though."

You found yourself laughing, but there was a nervous edge to it. What was this? Why did you suddenly feel…different around him? You’d known Fred since you were kids. You’d never felt this way before, not even a little. But now, standing in front of him, it was like someone had flipped a switch inside you.

"I suppose I’ll have to get used to looking up at you now," you said, trying to shake off the odd feeling.

Fred raised an eyebrow, his grin never faltering. "You’ll manage. If not, I’m happy to carry you around." He winked again, and this time, you felt your cheeks heat up.

Merlin, this was going to be a long year.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, but Fred's new height and presence stayed in the back of your mind. You tried to act normal—laughing with the others, catching up on everything you’d missed. But every time Fred spoke or laughed, you found yourself glancing his way, your heart giving a little lurch each time.

Later that evening, as you sat in the common room with Percy, you couldn’t help but bring it up.

"Did Fred always…well, has he always been…?"

"Tall?" Percy asked, raising an eyebrow. "Not until this summer. Why?"

You shifted uncomfortably, not sure how to explain it. "It’s just…different. He seems different."

Percy smiled knowingly. "You’re not the only one who's noticed. Ginny mentioned it too. The twins have always been a bit of prats, but now they got the looks to match."

You sighed, sinking deeper into the chair. "It’s just weird, I guess. I mean, I’ve known him forever, and now suddenly—"

"You fancy him," Percy finished, a teasing grin on his face.

Your eyes widened, and you quickly shook your head. "No, I don’t! I just…it’s weird, that’s all."

Percy chuckled. "Sure, whatever you say."

But as the days passed, you couldn’t shake the feeling. Fred’s growth spurt wasn’t the only thing that had changed. Something between you had shifted too. He was still the same mischievous, fun-loving prankster, but now, there was something else—a tension that hadn’t been there before.

You found yourself seeking him out more than usual, joining in on his and George’s pranks, laughing at his jokes just a little too hard. And Fred? Well, he didn’t seem to mind the extra attention. If anything, he seemed to enjoy it.

One evening, as you sat by the fireplace in the common room, Fred flopped down next to you, his long legs stretching out in front of him. He nudged your shoulder playfully. "You’ve been quiet today. Everything alright?"

You glanced at him, your heart doing that stupid lurching thing again. "Yeah, just…tired, I guess."

Fred raised an eyebrow. "You? Tired? Never thought I’d see the day."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help but smile. "Even I get tired sometimes."

He leaned back, resting his arm on the back of the couch behind you. "You know, if you ever need a break from Percy’s study marathons, George and I could use some help with a new prank we’re working on."

You tilted your head, curious. "What kind of prank?"

Fred’s grin turned devilish. "Oh, you’ll see. But it involves a lot of stink pellets and a certain Slytherin prefect."

You laughed, shaking your head. "You two are going to get expelled one of these days."

"Maybe," Fred said with a shrug. "But it’d be worth it."

There was a pause, and then Fred turned to you, his expression softening just a bit. "It’s good to have you back, Y/N. Summer wasn’t the same without you."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you looked down at your hands. "Yeah, it’s good to be back."

Fred nudged you again, this time more gently. "Don’t go running off to another Quidditch camp next summer, alright? We missed you."

You looked up at him, your breath catching slightly at the sincerity in his voice. "I missed you too, Fred."

And there it was—that stupid fluttery feeling again.

This was going to be a long, complicated year.

The first few weeks back at school were a blur of classes, quidditch practice, and catching up with friends. You were eager to get back into the rhythm of things, but you couldn’t shake the odd feeling that had settled in your chest since you’d seen Fred again. He was still the same Fred, still cracking jokes and pulling pranks with George, but now you found yourself noticing little things about him that you hadn’t before. The way his smile seemed to linger on you just a little longer than necessary, the way he always found a reason to sit next to you in the common room, the way your heart skipped a beat whenever his arm brushed against yours.

It was driving you crazy.

One evening, after quidditch practice, you found yourself heading back to the common room, only to be intercepted by Fred in the corridor. He grinned, blocking your path with an outstretched arm.

"Y/N, there you are," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I was beginning to think you were avoiding me."

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. "Avoiding you? Why would I do that?"

Fred shrugged, leaning casually against the wall. "Dunno. Just seems like you’ve been... distracted lately. Didn’t think my growth spurt would have that much of an effect on you."

Your cheeks flamed. "I—what? That’s ridiculous, Fred. I’m not—"

He cut you off with a laugh, stepping closer. "Relax, Y/N. I’m just messing with you."

You huffed, trying to ignore the way your heart was racing in your chest. "You’re always messing with me, Weasley."

Fred’s grin softened into something that looked almost... fond. "Yeah, well, that’s what I do best, isn’t it?"

You couldn’t argue with that. Fred had always been a tease, always finding ways to get under your skin. But now, it felt different. Now, his teasing sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and you weren’t sure how to handle it.

"You’re acting weird," you muttered, trying to avoid his gaze.

"Weird?" Fred repeated, feigning offense. "Me? Never."

You rolled your eyes, but before you could say anything else, Fred reached out and gently tugged on a strand of your hair. "Come on, Y/N," he said, his voice lower now, more serious. "You know I’ve always liked you, right?"

Your breath caught in your throat, and you stared up at him, wide-eyed. "Liked me?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Fred nodded, his eyes searching yours. "Yeah. I mean, you’ve always been like... one of us. Part of the family. But this summer, I don’t know... I guess I realized I like you more than just... as part of the family."

Your heart was pounding in your ears, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. "Fred, I—"

He held up a hand, cutting you off. "You don’t have to say anything now. I just wanted you to know. But, if you want to go flying sometime... just the two of us, you know where to find me."

With that, Fred shot you one last grin, his eyes twinkling, before turning on his heel and sauntering down the corridor, leaving you standing there, stunned.

Your head was spinning, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Fred Weasley—Fred Weasley—had just told you he liked you. And not in the way you’d always thought, like a brother or a friend. No, this was something different, something that made your heart race and your palms sweat.

As you stood there in the empty corridor, you realized that maybe—just maybe—Fred wasn’t the only one whose feelings had changed over the summer.

Fred’s growth spurt had certainly been a surprise, but what surprised you even more was how much your own feelings had grown right alongside him. And now, as you made your way back to the common room, one thought echoed in your mind:

Maybe it was time to take Fred up on that flying offer.

[redheadspark]

Fifth Floor Prt. 2

Summary - You and Oliver take full advantage of the Prefect's Bathroom

Warnings - SMUT SMUT SMUT! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED, 18+ ONLY!

Part two of Fifth Floor

It surprised you: one minute you two were kissing and now you two were together in the bath on the throes of pleasure.

Both you and Oliver were not going to slow down as soon as you cast the charm along the door and walls into the Prefects Bathroom.  The pent-up feelings you two kept to yourselves over the past few years since you graduated were now pouring out to one another, like a busted open dam.  Yet it felt like it was right, stripping each other's clothes off while kissing and giggling.  The serious tones of being consumed by one another never masked the playfulness either, which was almost a reflection of your relationship with one another anywho: serious and yet light.  Of course, you were baffled when Oliver perched you on the edge of the tub that was now filled to the brim with hot water mixed with scented and enchanted bubbles.  

His boldness came through as he gently pushed your legs open and licked into your folds like he was a starving student at a Feast.

Intense hot pleasure came through you ten told as he was between your legs, thankful that you could be as loud as you wanted since no one outside the room could hear your activities together.  Yet it made Oliver persistent, listening to the cues on where to lick and where to kiss along your folds and inside your cunt.  Almost like a devoted student, taking notes and knowing what makes you come undone and what made you whimper and writhe.  You were unraveling in seconds since it's been some time since you had something like this with someone, his fingers gliding along your folds when he felt you shaking and close to orgasm.  No matter how long you tried to hold out, it was closer than you thought.  

Seeing him in front of you, his head between your shaking legs and his back muscles glistening and contracting made your head swim all the more.  All of those times practicing and playing Quidditch was showing in his muscles along his backside and his arms.  He memorized you, even with him giving gentle kitten licks along your sensitive clit.  It made you fall back against the marble floor, moving your hips and trying to prolong the orgasm that was coming so fast.  

Up right before you broke, you placed your hands in his brown tuffs of hair and felt your body move without your knowledge, rolling your hips into his face and finally feeling him suck your clit.

You fell with a howl, and Oliver thought of you as a gorgeous siren. 

After a good moment or two of you calming yourself down, of Oliver watching you with wide eyes and a small glimmer of liquid on his chin and lips, you grinned widely like a Cheshire Cat at him as you pushed yourself back up into a sitting posting.  Sinking into the water and feeling the temperature engulf your now sensitive skin, you sighed and moaned at the same time as you turned him around and made him lean against the bathtub wall.  He went willingly, you pressing a hand against his hard and toned chest as he was how against the bathtub wall with nowhere else to go.

Slowly and without breaking eye contact with him, you reached your other hand down beneath the bubbles and felt his cock.  Hard, a bit large for your hand to wrap all around, but it felt perfect in your hand as you gripped him tightly.  Oliver inhaled sharply, his eyes going wide and his breath shaking as you started stroking him off under the water.  

You never thought you would be in this kind of situation with your best friend, bringing in emended pleasure under the bubbles and water in a bathroom alone.  But it was also a dream come true, being in his arms and blissfully happy.  There would never be a right moment for something like this, Oliver reminded you of that moment before you both were in the throws of pleasure and lust like this. 

But it felt right now, getting Oliver off as he was manning and biting his lower lips with every twist of your hand and every squeeze of your fingers.  You could sense and see that he was trying not to be too loud, which seemed ironic since he made your moan crudely a moment before when he was licking into your cunt with vigor.  

It should be the same for him. 

You leaned up to kiss his neck and lick along his skin as your hand was moving a bit faster, feeling his hips shaking under the water and moving in sync with yours as his hands were gripping the sides of the tub, arms stretched out and his head thrown back.

"You can let it all out know you," You hummed against his jaw, kissing his neck once more with a bit of vigor as you pressed your bare chest against his, "No one will know we're in here, and they won't hear anything.  You sound gorgeous like this, Oli,"

"F-f-fuck!" He moaned aloud as you traced your thumb along the tip of his cock.  He was shaking, the water splashing the pair of you as you grinned wickedly and straddled one of his thighs.  The hard muscle against your still sensitive cunt made you moan against his neck as your other hand raked in his brown hair and pulled hair.  He moaned crudely, his head snapping back as you looked at his exposed neck and his trembling lips.  

He looked beyond gorgeous to you.

Before you could say anything to him to make him come undone as he did with you, he moved one of his gripped hands from the bathtub wall and placed it on your arm in a death grip, making you stop stroking him since you thought you did something wrong.  Your other hand released his hair, making his head snap back to look at you as you shot him a worried look.

"You okay?" You asked him, heading his labored breathing and how dilated his eyes were.  The last thing you wanted to do was hurt him or made this a bad experience, it would have pained you.  Maybe you were too harsh or this was too quick.  But he slowly grinned, his crimson lips and flushed cheeks should no sign of pain or uncomfortableness as you were searching his eyes.  He leaned forward, kissing you soundly and gently in the water, making you melt and release his cocked as you framed his face.

To share a gentle moment in the throws of love seemed far too much, yet not enough.  He kissed you gently and with no hint of urgency.  There was more time in the world for you two to finally have each other, to be in love with one another, and you felt like Oliver wanted to savor every second with you.  

"I don't wanna cum yet," He whispered against your lips, tracing your nose with his as you gulped, "Not when I wanna have ya here,"

That alone made your heart skip, feeling his hands go under the water and grab your hips as he too was not breaking your glance.  He moved your swiftly, having you now against the wall and him crowding you as he kissed you over and over.  His hands moved to trace and touch your breast, some bubbles slipping down your nipples and making you moan as he palmed them both while kissing down your neck and jawline.  You felt as if you were boneless under his touch, his chest against yours as his mouth moved now to lick and suckle your breast, his thighs against your own under the water to make you feel his still hard cock near your own aching core.  

It felt perfect, all of this felt perfect.  

Releasing a nipple from his mouth with a pop, your eyes were glazed over as he leaned into you again and stared into your orbs to catch his breath, "I got ya, okay?" 

You nodded your head, you two staring each other down as his spare hand reached down to take his cot in hand and guide himself into you.  You felt it all through your bones and skin, through your veins as your eyes rolled back and you felt him slowly sink himself inside of you.  The stretch felt like an ache, a good ache after being on a broom for far too long.  It felt right, almost engrained within you as his cock snugged against your walls and you moaned loudly with no sign of being restrained.  Your eyes were closing, not seeing how Oliver was watching you take him so well and how he wished he could etch this image in his mind.  You were naked, covered in water and bubble, bare and open for him and only him.

He won't forget it ever in his life.  

Oliver, once he was fully inside of you, waited for your to adjust for him as you took a long breath.  It was a bit much, almost losing your breath as your thighs trembled under the water and against his own legs.  You had to hold onto his neck for some kind of support as his hand under the water grasped one of your thighs.  His other unoccupied hand was back out of the water and bracing the wall by your head as he kissed your face over and over.

"Okay?" He asked in a raspy voice, he too was feeling the immense pleasure of your walls keeping him inside of you.  You whimpered and nodded your head as he grinned along your cheeks, "Merlin you feel fuckin' good.  So…so good."

His hips were moving slowly, with deep hard thrusts that made you moan with each push. His hips were doing most of the work, the thrusts were deep enough and hard enough for you to melt against the wall but enough to make everything shake under your skin as you were taking everything he gave you.  Oliver was not going fast, which made you wonder for a split second if he wished to.  No, you could tell in how he was going at it that he wanted this to last, not a fast fuck.

"Yes….Merlin Yes…..Oli…FUCK!" You mewled as he hit that spot inside of you, hearing him growl for a moment as he was still fucking you in the tub.  His hand that was holding your thigh was in a tight grip, not letting you sink as you clung onto his back of dear life, feeling your nails almost break the skin as your moans were getting louder and more vocal.  His rhythm was consistent, not slowing down or going too fast just to drive you insane as you felt that feeling of an intense orgasm come over you again.   

"I'm c-close, O-o-liver—" You were moaning into his neck as he huffed and stopped his thrusts.  You were about to protest at him, teetering right on the edge of that pleasurable fall when he moved swiftly once again.  Still inside of you, he leaned back a bit and scooped you in his arms, moving with ease to have his back against the wall once again and you in his lap.  With his cock still buried deep inside of you, he peered up at you and saw the state you were in.

Naked and shaking from pleasure, hair plastered to your neck and backside, eyes wide and unhinged.  He reached up, damp hand up to your neck to look at the image before you as he smiled.  Being perched over Oliver made you feel almost powerful, untouchable, and yet you were still at his mercy.  You too wished to savor this image in your mind forever, knowing you would never be the same.

His thumb traced your lower lip, his hips now moving up and down as his other hand under the water moved to touch your cunt, right over your clit.  You keened, leaning over from the shock of pleasure as he gripped your neck and watched you get that high again.  With his thumb on your clit, making sharp and small circles and his cock drilling into you, he was watching in utter fascination and wonderment.  

"Cum for me," he whispered rapidly against your lips as he kissed you boldly, "I can feel you're close, aren't ya?  I wanna feel it, all of it.  Please, cum for-"

The orgasm you felt slammed you sideways and made you scream, your body going stiff from the pleasure that was now intensified up and down your body as you rode through every second of it.  Oliver saw how your eyes shot wide, your body quivered in the still hot water, and your hands clenched onto his shoulders tight as he thrusts two more times before he too released with a loud moan.  

You felt him unload inside of you, spreading inside of you to feel that warmth along your walls and make you moan some more as you collapsed on top of him.  He wrapped you in his arms, still riding out his release as he thrust into your a few more times.

The pleasure was no long piping hot but a simmer, you both still shaking and each your breaths as Oliver gathered you in his arms and kissed you all over.  You were grateful you were still in the tub, covered in water and bubbles to get some relief.  Although he pulled out of you, he never once released you, placing you in his lap and kissing you soundly with a massive grin on his face.  

"Merlin's Beard…that was…." You said, still unable to talk as Oliver grinned widely.

"I was thinking the same thing," He murmured, his voice uneven himself as he pressed his forehead against yours, "And to think we could have done this sooner if we weren't thick in the head,"

That made you giggle, curling into him some more as he was keeping you close in his arms.  It was true, if you both weren't worried so much about the "what if's" and simply went with what you felt, then you would have this kind of love, this intimacy, way sooner.  But life was strange in that way of course bringing you two back together in the aftermath of an almost catastrophic war that would have erased everything you knew and loved.  

You decided then and there to live in the moment, leaning up to kiss him hotly.  

30 minutes later, you two walked out of the Prefects Bathroom, dried off, and back in your old clothes.  Heading back to the Great Hall and the Courtyard, you both walked side by side and held hands between the two of you, trying to hide the still evident flushness and blush on both of your cheeks.  

Yet neither one of two saw Professor McGonagall near the Great Hall entrance watch you two walk out together, a knowing smile on her lips as she looked at her two old students and Gryffindor Alumni.

"Took those two long enough," She replied with a soft smile.  

The End.

Tagged - @a-lumos-in-the-nox

[goldenpromise]

harry is woken up by seamus' cackling. still half-asleep, he puts on his glasses and sees dean chasing seamus across the dorm, a glittery pink tie in his hands. "what did you do to it?", he roars, waving his wand in desperation and to no avail. "change it back, seamus, i swear if you don't-"

ron, already getting out of his own bed, laughs. "i think it'll suit you, dean." dean glares daggers at him before tackling seamus onto his bed, where a sort of wrestling match begins.

neville yawns and climbs out of bed, too tired to notice the heaps of parchment still left on the floor from late night OWL practice, and he slips so unfortunately that he has to struggle for several seconds to find his balance. ron laughs so hard he misses one of the buttons of his shirt, before grabbing harry by the wrist (he's still sleep warm and softer around the edges) and dragging him out of bed.

"c'mon harry, hermione will be waiting for us, we're going to hogsmeade, remember?"

seamus wolf-whistles, and dean (splayed halfway across seamus, holding his arms down) wiggles his eyebrows in an obnoxious manner. "yeah, don't make your girlfriend wait, ron." ron's ears promptly turn a deep shade of pink as he stammers denial, making harry grin.

seamus starts loudly singing something about ron and hermione in a tree, and only shuts up when dean lightly slaps his face, the tie still in hand. seamus grins up at him with mischief in his eyes. "joke's on you, thomas, i'm into that shit." dean groans and shakes his head, but even neville laughs.

the dorm is warm, and harry glows as he starts changing. he's so lucky to be here.

[vilentia]

Shared Sorrow

Harry Potter x reader

****

Summary: In the wake of tragedy, Harry finds solace and love in your embrace, navigating grief together and discovering a sanctuary in each other's arms.

Rating: Teen and Up (T)

Categories: angst, hurt/comfort

Harry stood in the debris-laden Department of Mysteries, his heart heavy with grief and anger. The loss of Sirius Black, his godfather, felt like a sharp knife twisting inside him. Tears welled up in his emerald eyes, threatening to spill over, as he clenched his fists in frustration. He felt utterly alone, the weight of the world resting upon his young shoulders.

But then, amidst the chaos, you appeared. You had been by Harry's side throughout the battle, fighting alongside him with unwavering courage and loyalty. As you approached him, concern etched across your face, Harry's tear-filled eyes met yours, finding solace in your presence.

You reached out a trembling hand, gently brushing away the tears staining Harry's cheeks. Your touch was comforting, sending a shiver of warmth through his body. He leaned into your touch, craving the support and understanding only you could provide.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," you whispered softly, your voice laden with sorrow. "I can't imagine how much pain you're feeling right now."

Harry's voice wavered as he spoke, his voice heavy with grief. "It hurts, Y/N. It hurts so much. Sirius... he was like family to me."

You pulled him into a tight embrace, holding him as if you could shield him from the pain. His arms wrapped around you, clutching onto you desperately, seeking solace in your embrace. The tears flowed freely now, mingling with your own.

"I know, Harry. I know," you murmured, your voice filled with empathy. "I can't take away your pain, but I'm here for you. You're not alone."

Harry buried his face in the crook of your neck, finding comfort in the familiar scent of your hair. His body shook with sobs, his heartache echoing through the empty chamber. You held him tightly, absorbing his pain, knowing that your presence alone could bring him some measure of solace.

As the tears subsided, Harry lifted his head, his eyes red and puffy, but filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "I don't know what I would do without you."

You brushed a gentle hand through his unruly hair, your touch a balm to his wounded soul. "You don't have to face this alone, Harry. We're in this together. Always."

A fragile smile tugged at the corners of Harry's lips, and he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. The weight on his shoulders seemed momentarily lighter, as if your presence alone could bear the burden alongside him.

In that moment, amidst the wreckage and heartache, Harry and you found solace in each other's arms. Your love became a beacon of hope, a sanctuary where pain could be shared and comfort found. Together, you embraced the anguish, finding a sense of contentment in the midst of the storm.

[lilithofpenandbook]

Imagine somehow, Harry's glasses break.

Pomfrey says she can get new ones, but they'll take a few weeks. Until then, she requests Snape to make a potion to apply to Harry's eyelids to temporarily "fix" his eyesight. So for weeks, Harry doesn't wear his glasses.

And Severus Snape has never been calmer.

He's as strict as ever, he still favours Slytherin just a little. But he isn't constantly angry. He's sarcastic, but in a witty way, not in a cruel way. He doesn't get mad at anyone.

And he treats Harry with fairness. Even kindness.

He has to be the one to apply the potion, it's a delicate one that has to be a precise amount and there's not a lot of it, so he refuses to entrust a young boy with it. And when he does it, his touch is light, gentle. Of course it would be, he works with potions, you need to have a steady, gentle hand when handling the ingredients, but somehow Harry knows he's being extra-careful. He doesn't randomly deduct points from Harry. He doesn't unfairly give Harry low grades. It's almost like he doesn't even hate Harry anymore.

When the glasses come back, however, Snape's almost immediately in a bad mood that day. He's back to his old self, if not worse. No one can understand why.

Until someone remembers: James Potter wore glasses. Just like Harry. And without the glasses, Harry looks a lot less like James. This is of course because he has Lily's eyes. Eyes that his glasses cover. The fact that his glasses are never truly clean just obscures them more. Without the glasses, he looks more like a blend of James and Lily, he looks like Harry. But those glasses? They make him look exactly like James. James, who made Snape's life hell.

Just to test this, Harry sneaks some of the potion and takes his glasses off. And once again, Snape's so much calmer that day. He doesn't even call Harry arrogant once.

Glasses on? Snape's once angry.

And Snape's not even doing it on purpose. He doesn't even realise it's the glasses that triggers him so much. He just feels angry and doesn't realise what it is for the longest time. Up until Harry starts testing him, wearing glasses one day and then not the other. Only then does Snape become aware of his severe mood swings, and they wear him out. He doesn't get it, why does he feel so angry and then not angry and then angry and then not?

Until the day he's sorting out old school pictures of the quidditch teams. The recent one of Harry's team ends up next to one of James's. Snape looks at both and wonders how Harry's so unlike James really, unless he wears those glasses-

And then it hits Snape.

It's the glasses.

Those stupid round glasses.

Those bits of metal and glass.

They're what's been controlling Snape this whole time. They're what's triggering him.

He feels ashamed at first. How could he be so controlled by some stupid metal and glass? How could he let that small thing get to him? And yet it's hard not to, not when they make Harry look like James. But how stupid is he, how weak, how pathetic. He's been like this all because of some stupid glasses.

Curiously enough, Harry stops wearing his glasses around this time too. He asks Snape to teach him how to make this potion, and keeps using it. He claims it's because not having to clean or hold onto his glasses makes a lot of his classes easier.

No one knows that Harry had compared a picture of himself and his father and realises how without glasses he looks like Lily and James, while wearing them almost erases her. His mother who died for him.

And he'd rather like the world to know Lily Potter is part of him too.

And if it made Professor Snape less angry, that was okay too. It made things better for them both.

[ravenclawravings]

Hey guys! I know it's been a while, and although both Alex and I have no plans to continue this page at the moment, we wanted to give you an update.

Ultimately: We are both still alive and just fine.

However, I do have a favor to ask you guys, if anyone can! I know some of you are super excited for the new HBO HP series, some unsure, and some don't want it at all. I am excited, possibly too excited. I want to know how I can get involved with the show, and am wondering if anyone who still pays attention to this blog knows a guy. I even already wrote a pilot episode because I'm just crazy like that.

It never hurts to ask, right?

[call-me-daddy-fic-fest]

February 16 — Reveal Day 3

✨ The First Night ✨

Pairing: Hermione / Draco

Artist: @ectoheart

[kierancaz]

Saving The Dance.

note: this is based off of a video I saw on TikTok about watching little women and only seeing Hermione and Regulus Black in Meg and Laurie. Someone made a comment saying they wanted a fic of this and I said I’d write one and then like 30+ people responded saying they wanted to be tagged so here I am. Sorry if the speech is very old-timey I’ve been reading a lot of period piece novels and watching a lot of period shows I don’t actually remember how to write them like people who aren’t from the 1850s.

warnings: none, tad bit of Ron hate maybe but mot really bc I love him and he’s my boy. Also Ron x Hermione bc Ron redeems himself. Obviously this is not canon compliant ALSO THIS IS NOT A SHIP. my girl Hermione gets shipped with everyone in Harry Potter even if they are two decades older than her and dead so this is NOT A SHIP.

Ron has done it again. He has ruined yet another ball for Hermione. First was the Yule Ball and now it was the Blacks yearly Summer Solstice Celebration. Hermione was so looking forward to this but of course Ron had to go and ruin things by opening his big mouth.

As the name implies, a member of the Black family holds this celebration in the first day of the summer solstice each year, this year it was Regulus turn. The ball was being held at 12 Grimmauld Place. Sirius had passed the house down to Regulus because he wanted nothing to do with it, since then Regulus had made some great improvements on the place.

However Hermione was enjoying none of these improvements. She was sitting solemnly on a couch, resting her head over the back of it so she can stare out the window and mindlessly pick at the loose threads. Since she had sat there not one person had come to see how she was though she was very clearly upset.

Harry was off galavanting with Sirius, Ginny was discussing something with Draco (most likely quidditch strategies, that’s all they ever talked about). Fred and George were slipping something into Mr. Malfoy’s drink as Neville and Luna acted as a distraction (Hermione watched this for a while as it was mildly entertaining. Neville was stumbling over every third word and Luna was speaking with her ever serene, if a little… absent, smile about something that was very obviously making little to no sense to Mr. Malfoy. But he didn’t seem to know how to properly excuse himself from the conversation). Remus was very deep in discussion with Mr. Moody and Tonks about something that Hermione thought was probably very interesting, as Remus always had good topics of discussion, and Ron. Ron was resolutely avoiding her after their blow up fight earlier. He was even going as far as to talk with Blaise, Pansy, Theo which she didn’t believe he had it in him to do so. But apparently their fight earlier had pushed him to the most drastic of measures as to not have to talk to her or be asked why he wasn’t talking to her.

Suddenly, there was a weight to the right of her that landed on the couch, it was the host himself. “My dear Hermione, why’re you sitting here by yourself instead of dancing with everyone else?” Regulus asked. Hermione used to try and call him Mr. Black, but he insisted on being called Regulus just like how Sirius was just called Sirius and Remus was just called Remus.

Hermione gave a half hearted smile but it slipped off her face almost immediately, “I don’t feel much like dancing.” She said quietly. There was lively music playing and as she looked out at the floor she saw many people dancing together in pairs. They danced together and spun around in some formation that looked like some traditional dance that you might’ve found in the 1860s somewhere.

Mr. Malfoy had managed to weasel out of his conversation with Luna and Neville and was dancing with his wife. Whatever prank Fred and George were trying to play on him either hadn’t worked or hadn’t worked yet. Luna and Neville were dancing together, Sirius was dragging Remus onto the dance floor (Hermione giggled, Sirius looked ridiculous trying to force Remus to dance and Tonks was laughing hysterically in the background), Draco was dancing with Pansy and Matteo and Theo were also dancing together but Matteo seemed way more into it than Theo was. Ginny and Harry had also just joined the floor, laughing together as they hopped around in circles.

Regulus tilted his head to the side as he put both his hands in his lap, “why not?” He asked, drawing Hermione’s attention away from the dance floor. She bit her lip and looked at her own hands which were lightly tugging at the frills on her dress.

“I don’t know, I just— it’s silly, I just, I suppose I don’t feel pretty enough to join everyone else tonight….” She said the last part quietly, memory of Ron’s nasty words from earlier threatening to bring tears to her eyes once more.

“Why, that’s just absurd!” Regulus said, his eyebrows furrowed as the dancers in the background clapped to the song as they continued dancing. “Who would put such a thought in your head? I hope it wouldn’t be yourself.”

Hermione just shook her head. As angry and upset as he had made her, she wanted to rat Ron out and potentially get him in trouble, especially if Regulus told Mrs. Weasley. They would work it out, eventually, they always did. After a few moments of silence Regulus seemed to understand that she wasn’t going to give up the name of the person who had made her feel so unpretty. So he nodded and stood up.

“Hermione you are one of the most beautiful young ladies here tonight, would you do me the honor of having the next dance with me?” He said dramatically as he bowed and held out his hand for her to take. She felt slightly embarrassed by the gesture, but it worked in putting a smile on her face.

She took his hand and he brought her to the dance floor as the music picked up again. The stood facing each other and as they did it dawned on Hermione, “wait, but I don’t know the dances!” She said with slight panic in her voice, Regulus laughed.

“No need to know them! Just follow my lead and you’ll be fine.” And after that the dance started and Regulus pulled her with him as he moved.

By the middle of the dance Hermione had found her rhythm. But it didn’t really matter, the dance was mostly fancy hopping and heel clicking with your hands behind your back or spinning or stepping and stepping out. It didn’t take long for a smile to stick itself on Hermione’s face. Instead of trying to teach her the proper dance Regulus tried to make the dance fun, and so it was.

After three dances it was time for a break as Hermione didn’t think she could feel her toes anymore. She walked off the dance floor feeling much lighter and laughing the whole way, when they were on the outskirts of the floor Regulus took her hand politely and bowed deeply thanking her for the dance which made her giggle. He excused himself to go find his brother while Hermione grabbed herself a drink.

Someone cleared their throat behind her and she jumped, turning around to see none other than Ron. He was looking rather awkward as he rocked back and forth on his heels.

“Ron… is there— is there something I can do for you?” Hermione asked in the most indifferent and uninterested tone she could muster as she squared her shoulders and cleaned her face of the joy she had been most obviously feeling moments before. Ron coughed awkwardly, stuttering for a moment as Hermione’s facade fell quickly.

“I— I just wanted to say… I’m sorry. For earlier I mean. And— and I take back what I said. You look… you look very beautiful.” He was blushing furiously, playing with his fingering and wearing a worried expression like he thought maybe she wouldn’t forgive him. But she sighed, a soft smile creeping onto her face.

“Thank you. I’m sorry for what I said too,” she sighed and there was a pause. “So… how was talking with Pansy and the others?” Ron let out a huff and slapped his hand to his forehead.

“Bloody horrible!” He exclaimed, “those have got to be some of the most uninteresting people I’ve ever met. Should’ve apologized sooner so I didn’t have to sit through whatever stupid gossip they were talking about. I mean, who really cares what guy Romilda Vane is gunning after these days?”

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh and Ron smiled at her. Once she stopped laughing her offered her his arm, his blush creeping back up onto his cheeks. “Um, Hermione? Would you, dance with me?” He said, chuckling nervously.

Hermione smiled, grabbing onto his arm. “Of course, Ron.” He grinned back and when the last song ended and people started to reconfigure themselves Ron and Hermione joined them. They stood facing each other and just past Ron’s shoulder Hermione caught sight of Regulus.

They met eyes and smiled, he smiled back raising his eyebrows momentarily and winked before being met by Pandora Lovegood. He nodded before following her out onto the dance floor.

Hermione looked back and met eyes with Ron, an uncontrollable grin plastering itself on her face. Maybe tonight won’t be that awful after all.

[mors-mvrdre]

canon compliant ramblings (1/?)

He likes Penelope. Brilliant, bold, bright Penelope, made of smiles that light up rooms, who doesn’t think he’s a pompous arse.

Penelope's read all of the same books Percy has and then some; and she's never out of recommendations or intriguing commentary to show for it. She'll question his sources and rip his arguments apart, and his work will, always, ultimately be better for it. She can argue any case just as fiercely and passionately as Percy, and he falls in love a little bit every time. They laugh it off, proclaiming victory or conceding defeat, and go about their days content with a good verbal sparring.

They get each other, but they're not the same.

Where Percy is restrained, methodical, and often playing roles, Penny is authentic and unapologetically herself. He both envies and adores that about her; the way she laughs, the single dimple on her right cheek, how she never shies away from her feelings. For Percy, who's always struggled at reading people ("read the room", "take the hint", he's heard so many times he's lost count), it's a welcome reprieve. Percy knows he can trust Penelope to tell him what she wants, what she means. He won't be blindsided.

He reckons he could enjoy her company for that alone, were Penelope a lot less smart and a lot more boring and uninteresting.

(Or perhaps he wouldn't, he frowns. There is a not-unsubstantial chance Penelope would be a lot more superficial and vapid in turn. But that's a non-issue. Would they run out of things to talk about?)

Penelope is a half-blood on a mere technicality, which raises eyebrows left and right even from the most tolerant of wizards. She's a little round (Percy's reminded of his mother at her age), a shade of tan not very common in their corner of the British Isles, and she speaks languages which, much to his befuddlement, their muggle-born classmates seem to sneer at more viciously.

Percy is very aware that all of this matters, socially. He knows what it's like to be poor and shunned and ridiculed -- that he can call himself a pureblood despite it, that he's at the top of his year and has many of the teachers' favour is not a deterrent. It's a drive, actually. It's why he has high ambitions, why he tries his best to dress and act the part -- why he complies even when he doesn't understand, even when it makes him feel like clawing at his own skin.

But Percy's not Penelope, so he never finds an edition of Witch's Weekly with a five-page article on miraculous weight loss open on his bed, and he doesn't hear snickers from behind his roommates' curtains when he angrily tosses it into the trash. The other boys don't tell him that he's "so brave" for not caring what other people say about his body, or not using glamour charms to hide his pimples, or for not wanting to know where he ranked on a “list of attractiveness” some git pinned to the announcement board in the Common Room. The only person who ever comments on Percy's food intake at school is Oliver -- but Oliver is an athlete and a bit of a health freak, and Oliver's comments are harmless; fondly exasperated "You’d have less headaches if you ate more greens", not malicious or backhanded.

(“Fewer”, Percy corrects him distractedly, and so Oliver rolls his eyes and piles broccoli onto his plate in revenge.)

Percy’s not Penelope, so Henrietta Glossop's attention-grabbing "Wow, I could never eat that much" is not directed at him. It reverberates across the Great Hall, though -- he catches it from two tables away. Percy's not Penelope, and nobody tells him he cheated his way into a blood status, calls him slurs, or makes fun of his adoptive mother for being a Squib.

He doesn't understand -- Penelope is brilliant.

She's eloquent, knowledgeable, and far more travelled than anyone he's ever met. She knows the ins and outs of Wizarding Law and international treaties better than most adults in his life, and Percy finds himself enraptured by the way she lights up talking about it more and more frequently over the years.

He finds her gorgeous in ways he doesn't fully comprehend yet, and she's one of his favourite people. He can’t fathom anyone seeing her differently.

Percy tells her this, once, at the end of their fourth year. He’s so consumed in righteous anger on her behalf that he completely misses the way Penelope freezes; how she turns to him as though she's seeing him for the very first time. He catches her smiling, though, and so, a little confused, Percy smiles back, because it's the polite thing to do.

In hindsight, that's probably when things start to change.

info sheet (i guess).

random stuff pours out of my head sometimes. this is canon-compliant to a certain extent (that Penny and Percy like each other), but it's a lot of my own (various, overlapping, inconsistent) headcanons too. it was weirdly worded, so, for context: this Penelope is the UK-born daughter of a muggle man, a thai immigrant who gets remarried to a squib, and because the woman adopts Penelope that makes it so she has a set of wizard grandparents. this means she's "technically" a half-blood, and that doesn't sit well/is oddly regarded by a lot of people. hope that makes sense.

needs revision

[marauderswriting]

Do people still read fanfictions ?

[sweetiecutie]

You’re sad bc Draco cheated on you so you fuck his dad instead💖

Warnings: NSFW, infidelity, straight up nasty but hot lol

- Does it make you feel better, honey? - Lucius’ velvety voice droned on, his pale eyes watched you bouncing eagerly on his cock, big hands running up and down your sides, caressing your skin with skilled touches.

- So much better, thank you, Sir, - you stammered out, voice strained and trembling from all the pleasure rolling over your body in hot waves.

Lucius’ thin lips curled into a smug smirk at your breathless reply, and you exulted internally - how easy it was to manipulate this man into doing whatever you wanted just by pouting your lips prettily and looking up at him with those sad puppy eyes. Like father like son, you guessed.

Lucius’ hands came to gently cup your bouncing tits, thumbs flicking the nubs of your nipples lightly, making your head loll back at added pleasure.

- Never considered Draco an idiot, but he surely must be one if he let go of a woman like you, - you smiled coyly at older man’s words, masking your sneer skillfully. And that says a husband of Narcissa Black - the most precious woman in the world, and you would actually feel guilty and sorry for what you were doing right now if you didn’t know that there were no love between them from the very beginning.

So you just wrapped your arms around man’s strong neck, leaning closer in for him to pepper kisses all over your neck and chest, speeding up the snapping of your hips, impaling yourself over and over again on his throbbing thick cock. You could feel the tight knot starting to unravel itself in the pit of your stomach, hands gripping tightly on Lucius’ biceps and moaning out his name so sweetly as he thrusted up into your squelching pussy from his position underneath you, you body oh so soft under his fingers.

Malfoy crashed his lips onto yours, both your moans and heavy breathing mixing together as you reached your orgasms - strong shudder running through your tired body as Lucius spilled deep inside your pussy, coating your plushy walls with his spent.

And you were sure that you heard a door creaking open quietly through your orgasmic delirium and could almost physically feel a pair of grey eyes, resembling his father’s ones so closely, staring onto your back fiercely.

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated. Give writers some love - feedback is the thing that inspires us on creating more new content💖

[dracomalfoy7]

Looks Better On You

Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: Iconic POV: when Y/N spots Draco and admires his rings

Word Count: 1.3k+

Warnings: Fluff, Teasing?

A/N: I know we've read this a thousand times but one more time won't hurt. PS. Picture from Pinterest!

Draco Malfoy sat languidly in his usual spot at the back of Potions, where he could watch and observe, always maintaining an air of superiority. His fingers absently tapped against the wooden desk, each of his rings glinting under the dim light of the dungeon classroom. Rings had always been a part of his look, subtle symbols of his status, wealth, and heritage—silver bands that wrapped around his fingers like they belonged there, catching the eye of anyone who cared to notice.

And you noticed.

Draco’s gaze drifted across the room, settling on you, Y/N. He often saw you at the front, close to Professor Snape’s desk, a place where most people who were interested in learning—really learning—tended to sit. Normally, he wouldn’t have paid much attention. You were clever, but not attention-seeking like Granger, and certainly not as loud as Pansy. You were one of those students who preferred to fade into the background.

Except today. Today, he noticed something different about the way your eyes occasionally darted back to where he sat. Not toward his face, but his hand.

He smirked to himself, leaning back in his chair with that trademark Malfoy arrogance. So, you were admiring his rings. Draco couldn't deny the satisfaction that came with it. There was something thrilling about catching someone in an unguarded moment, about knowing that beneath your composed exterior, you were drawn to something about him—something material, yes, but still him.

As Snape droned on about the properties of Belladonna, Draco’s gaze never left you. You must have sensed it at some point, your back straightening as if you were caught doing something you shouldn’t. He watched as you shifted in your seat, trying to focus on the lecture, but your eyes still flicked, ever so briefly, to the silver glint of his rings when he moved his hand.

“Malfoy.” Blaise’s voice cut through Draco’s thoughts. “What’s so fascinating over there?”

“Nothing,” Draco drawled, his smirk widening as his fingers curled into a loose fist. Blaise followed his gaze toward you, his eyebrows raising slightly.

“Ah,” Blaise said, understanding dawning in his expression. “Y/N, huh?”

“Keep your voice down,” Draco muttered, not that Blaise ever listened to anyone but himself. His friend merely chuckled, leaning back in his own chair, clearly amused by Draco’s newfound interest.

Draco’s eyes shifted back to you. This time, you caught him looking directly at you, and for a brief moment, your eyes locked. You blushed, immediately glancing away, but not before Draco caught the flicker of embarrassment mixed with curiosity in your expression.

Interesting.

The rest of the class passed in a haze. Draco wasn’t paying attention to Snape’s lecture or to Blaise’s occasional remarks. His mind was focused on a single question: How should he play this?

By the time the class ended, Draco had already made up his mind. He gathered his things leisurely, waiting for the perfect moment as everyone began to file out of the classroom. You were one of the last to leave, carefully tucking your notebook into your bag, still trying to appear as though you hadn’t noticed Draco’s stare burning into your back.

But you had.

Draco stood, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve in a casual, almost lazy motion as he approached you. He made sure to walk with his usual swagger, the heels of his expensive shoes tapping lightly against the cold stone floor. You hadn’t seen him coming, so when he stopped directly beside you, your eyes widened slightly in surprise.

“Y/N,” he drawled, his voice carrying that familiar, aristocratic lilt.

You looked up at him, startled, but quickly composed yourself. “Malfoy,” you replied, your tone polite but guarded.

His eyes flickered toward your hand, and he noted how your fingers briefly twitched, as if you were resisting the urge to adjust something that didn’t need adjusting. His smirk deepened. “I couldn’t help but notice you admiring something of mine,” he said, voice soft yet sharp. “Care to tell me what caught your attention?”

Your blush deepened, and you opened your mouth to deny it, but nothing came out. Draco raised an eyebrow, enjoying the moment far too much. He slowly raised his right hand, the one you had been admiring in class, displaying the rings on his slender fingers.

“They’re just rings,” you said finally, averting your eyes.

“Just rings?” Draco echoed, feigning hurt. “You seemed quite fascinated by them. I think you were paying more attention to these than to Snape’s riveting lesson on Belladonna.”

You gave a small, almost imperceptible roll of your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, Malfoy.”

“Oh, I don’t need to,” he said, stepping just a bit closer, invading your personal space in that way only he could—deliberate, confident, and with an edge of challenge. “But if you like them so much, perhaps I should give you one.”

You blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What?”

Draco reached for the smallest of the rings, a sleek silver band etched with an intricate snake design, and slid it off his finger with ease. He held it out to you, dangling it between his thumb and forefinger like it was the most natural thing in the world to gift someone something so personal.

“Take it,” he offered smoothly, his tone low and teasing. “A little keepsake.”

You stared at the ring, as if unsure whether to accept it or laugh in disbelief. “Why would you give me one of your rings?”

Draco’s smile widened, sharp and knowing. “Because I can.”

You hesitated for a moment longer, but then your hand reached out, fingers brushing his as you carefully took the ring from him. The brief contact was enough to send a shiver down Draco’s spine, though he masked it well. He watched as you studied the ring in your palm, your expression caught somewhere between surprise and suspicion.

“Do you just hand out your things to anyone?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Only to those who deserve it,” he said, his voice dropping just a fraction, his eyes locked on yours. There was a weight to his words that hadn’t been there before, a subtle shift from teasing to something else—something more serious.

You met his gaze, the playful banter from before fading slightly as the two of you stood in a silence that felt charged with unspoken meaning. For a moment, the bustling noise of students in the corridor outside the classroom faded away, and it was just the two of you.

The ring rested in your hand, small and cold against your skin, but somehow it felt heavier than it should have. You weren’t sure if it was the ring itself or the weight of the gesture behind it—Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy fortune, offering you something of his own.

Finally, you slid the ring onto your finger. It was a little loose, but it fit well enough.

Draco’s eyes flicked to your hand, satisfaction curling through him as he saw his ring on your finger. “Looks good on you,” he murmured, the smirk returning to his lips.

You looked down at the ring, then back up at him, your expression unreadable. “Don’t expect me to wear this forever,” you said, though there was no real bite in your words.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said smoothly. “But who knows? You might get used to it.”

You rolled your eyes again, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips this time. “You’re insufferable, Malfoy.”

“So I’ve been told,” he replied, the smirk never leaving his face. He took a step back, giving you space once more, though his gaze lingered on you a moment longer. “See you around, Y/N.”

With that, Draco turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with his ring still on your finger, his presence lingering like a shadow long after he was gone.

As he strolled down the corridor, Blaise caught up with him, raising an eyebrow as he noticed the absence of one of Draco’s signature rings. “Gave her one of your rings?” Blaise asked, sounding impressed. “That’s a bold move, even for you.”

Draco shrugged, a smug smile playing on his lips. “I like to leave an impression.”

And he was certain he had.

My request are open!

[redheadspark]

hi!! can you do number 3 with oliver wood? possibly a frenemies to lovers kinda vibe (they're friends who are quidditch rival captains and they're insanely competitive yet secretly in love with each other)??

A/N - This is great for Oliver! Thanks for requesting this!

Walls

Summary - You and Oliver were two peas in a pod, in more ways than one

Warnings - Just fluff

“Let’s see the damage,”

“It’s not that bad, I swear—“

“Now, Wood,”

“I hate it when ya use my name on me,”

You eyed him as he finally gave him, pulling off the practice sweater he was wearing to show the thin shirt that was underneath, along with the scattering of bruises that were along his skin and near his collarbone.  You tutted, walking around the bed he was perched on and seeing more damage from the match he played littered on his skin. 

“Oli…”

“It’s nothin’, luv,” He reassured you as he saw the look of concern on your face, the mixtures of blacks and blues that were etched on his skin like a brand, “Remember my third year when I broke my arm?”

“I’m peeved with Trent when he slugged that blunger at you,”

“Aye, and yet no one suspected that you and I were dancing around each other then with how you reacted, huh?”

You threw a glare at him, seeing him faintly smile as you then turned on your heel to grab a few of the ointments that you had stored in your bag, knowing that you were going to have to help him out after the brutal match you saw him in.  Of course, the last thing you wanted for him was to be hurt.

Even when he was on the opposing team.

You two were not meant to be together, not when you were the Ravenclaw Captain and Oliver was Gryffindor.  In fact, your teams were the biggest rivals to each other that year, all thanks to their captains.  You and Oliver being completive seemed to be a tame way to explain how your team was so good, tame, and positive.  In fact, you and Oliver were at each other’s throats plenty of times: fighting over practice time on the pitch, throwing jabs at one another during matches against each other, and even giving each other sneers while running to each other in the hall.  

Even one afternoon in the early fall, when a small heat wave came through the highlands when your team was coming off the pitch.  Oliver, leading the Gryffindor teams, saw you grimace as you walked past them and tugged at your practice sweater.

“I’m so hot”

“Loving the confidence,” He said under his breath for you to hear, though the rest of the team heard and laughed.  

“Oh shut up!”  You growled at him while he passed and rolled his eyes.  You both loved, craved even, the sport of quidditch.  Just to think of anyone standing in your way would be a stupid decision, and yet Oliver was the one you threw off your game.

But in the best way.

Neither of you knew when it happened, or even how.  But there was an underlying affection and mutual respect for one another from the moment you two met as captains.  Although you could be stubborn and Oliver could be hard-headed, you both admired the drive in one another and the fire in your bellies.  Almost like you both were relieved that there was another that could match the drive, the thirst to win large 

One thing led to another so to speak. One minute you two were arguing nose to nose after a very close match, the next minute Oliver had you pressed against the wall hidden away from sight at the stadium with his hands on your waist and kissing you deeply while you tugged his robes off and rang your fingers in his hair.

“Let’s get some of this on, to minimize the bruising,” You explained, getting a few drops of ointment on the gauze you had to dab along the damaged skin.  Oliver squinted from the contact, but he remained still as you were wiping the ointment along the. Spots were seen as your eyes were concentrating on your work but looking rather soft and almost hurt.  You were hurt, seeing what happened to Oliver on the topic and yet not being able to stop It from happening.  

An intense game against Slytherin House, one of the biggest games to watch in the season.  Ravenclaw was in second when it came to the standings, Gryffindor taking the lead barely while Slytherin was in third and Huflelpuff dead last.  You knew the Slytherin Captain was not a fair layer, in fact, he was prone to cheating.  You’ve played against them a few times and almost got in trouble once or twice from his ruthless behavior in a room, and yet he was able to stay on a Captain.  But in this match, you were especially worried for Oliver, you two were freshly dating and still trying to keep your relationship under wraps.  Oliver knew you were going to worry, he simply hugged you before he left for the Gyrffindor locker rooms and told you it was just a game.

And yet there he was, perched on a table, littered in bruises and seeming calm about it.

“Hey,” he hummed, reaching over to take your hand in his own and lace your fingers together.  You paused on your work on him, feeling him take a long inhale as you were watching a particularly large bruise on his neck, “I'm fine.  I’ve been worse in games, you know that,”

“He had a vendetta against you,” you said in a bite, dabbing a bit more ointment on his bruises as you went on, “We know he pays dirty and does what it takes to win. He went too far today,”

“I’ve seen him do worse,” Oliver commented, you looking at him.  His brown eyes twinkled in the light of the room, looking so gentle at you even after taking a major beating on the pitch sometime before.  You loved that about him, the competitiveness would switch off in him as soon as he would land on the ground with both feet.  You wished you could do that most of the time, Oliver made it look so easy.  

He leaned in a bit more, almost being nose to nose with you as he searched your eyes with his own, and voice low but light, “I’m gonna be okay,”

You breathed in deeply, nodding to show that you were surrendering to the worries that you had about him.  It was always a fight, when either one of you would get hurt or would be pushed too far.  But in the end, you both cared for one another far too much to let it be damaged.  

You two had one more year together at Hogwarts before being in the real world, already making plans to move in together and play professionally.  Not caring about other students finding out about your secret relationship, not needing to hide it in the shadows, or having private dates.  Being able to hold hands in the open, to kiss each other when you wanted.  At this point in your relationship, it was a dream.  

Oliver tucked you in close and hugged you tightly, kissing your hair over and over as you clung to him.  He grew on you and became your safe space, someone to talk to you about everything and anything that was on your mind.  You need held back with him and he was the same with you.  It was still surprising that two stubborn quidditch lovers with high walls around their hearts would find one another.

And let the walls crumble down.

The End

July Prompt Session

tagged - @a-lumos-in-the-nox

[valiantartwritingweasel]

❦

A Masterlist?

I don't believe that I'll post very much, but incase it does get cramped, I'll have this to coordinate

All of these are xreader since I don't write ships related things (escapsim at it's finest) and all of these should be gender neutral? (I just don't include the readers pronouns idk) Will specifiy if that's not the case but that hasn't happened yet.

If there's no link attached then it probably is because the post is collecting dust in my drafts ehe

If anyone's listening, english is not my first language so that's my excuse for being mildly illiterate

-doing my #best with the tags but its confusing-

I don't write heavy themes but I do curse a lot

 💭 - for the occasionally heavy themed ones

❦

Genshin:

Giving each other flowers (Albedo, Zhongli, Itto)

Sharing one bed pt.1 (Diluc, Kaeya, Xiao, Ayato)

Sharing one bed pt.2 (Thoma, Itto, Dottore)

 💭 - "Don't look at me like that. I'm not dying yet" - (Diluc)

Infatuation - (Dottore)

❦

Harry Potter:

"You're annoying" - (Sirius)

[gaunt-and-hungry]

[Tom Marvolo Riddle & A Stranger]

[A writing prompt sent to me. An obscure individual in an obscure place and an obscure time. A powerful dark wizard and his inability to bake bread. ]

Tom was the sort of man to lose patience over a great many things. Contradicting this was how incredibly patient he was. Let me be clear, Tom, the Bastard - I do say so with great affection in my own ways - was never quite good with certain folks. His studies and keen motivation to become a mastery at all and any sorceries he sought after required a patience that of a saint.

Tom Riddle is no saintly man.

We're sitting in the kitchen. You want to imagine some sort of grandiose place, don't you? Well, it's not. As a matter of fact it shares the one room home as much as the lofted bed space does. All that separates it from the rest of the cottage is a curtain. Currently, it's drawn back revealing Tom's place of rest. Certainly the cloth and rungs that the curtain is affixed with are indeed quite nice. But the furnishings are modest. It is whatever he scraped by with. Decent things, sure. But nothing as I am sure someone of his pretend status would crave.

The tea pot is at the centre of the round table. There are but three chairs. And I am the only occupant here. 

Tom is pacing, and I am nursing a cup of tea as I watch him. Everyone knows of course that he is a comely man. Especially at his age right now. But his temper isn't as comely as his charming physical features.

He's known me for long enough, I think. Yet as much as I am a stranger to his world, he sees me as a kindred spirit. Just… lacking his sentiments.

"You can't rush these things," I mutter from my seat. I watch as his body tenses, the flex of his shoulders apparent as he stops breathing for a moment. You know, when someone wants to make a snide remark or a comeback but it is caught in the throat. He exhales.

"I know."

"Then join me." I kick the chair towards him from under the table. Tom is across from me. Adjacent is an old fire oven. He watches it sternly. 

Fluidly he resigns. And gracefully he does as I say. I am smiling at him as he prepares himself some tea, spooning the dried herbs into his mug. The dingy light doesn't do his complexion any favours. He is exhausted. He is stressed. I can smell it off him. There is a slightly sour aroma to the kitchenette here. And I know it is the time spent in frustration.

"Did you listen to my advise?" I am careful when I ask this. Not for fear of Tom. No. But I know that this strange situation is somehow sensitive to him. He's sensitive to the failures cooking.

I sense his apprehension. "Yes - er…" he thinks. "Every recipe suggests twice. You tell me once."

I nod, adding a sugar to my tea. He is making a face at me that would suggest disgust but I know it better as an effort to read me like he does everyone else.

Tom Riddle is one of those individuals that can talk someone into jumping to their demise. He is smooth and clever. The ability to see right through anyone under his scrutiny is usually enough to bother most. I allow him his dissection of me.

"I am telling you, Tom. I wouldn't suggest it unless I was serious."

He is looking for a reason.

"Different yeast yields different results. I think this area has a yeast that is more… quick to react."

He contemplates this thought before humming. It's a low and curt tone. One that sounds approving. Agreeing. He isn't looking at me. But he then focuses again on the oven. 

"It's probably fine. But that could be why you are unsatisfied with the results."

"How can it be so complex?" He breathes. It's a moment of weakness for him. I watch his entire being relax. The hourglass shifts gently over the oven as the enchantment acts autonomously as if announcing that there is something great to be had beneath it. Tom would argue that sentiment.

"Baking isn't like potion making, you know. Heat and balance are factors to contend with after the mixture. The chemystry principles apply of course," I ramble to him. He listens. 

He is good at listening, though I do not doubt it is usually a manipulation tactic. It is not right now.

I would say it is because I have something he wants. But he has come to value my presence. A rarity in someone as untrusting as himself. He smiles. It's genuine I can see as his eyes come to life and the frustration seems to wave away. 

"Make one with me."

I tilt my head back and relax in my seat. "But Riddle, my tea will get cold."

"Finish your tea then!" He pushes his cup gently between his thin fingers. "Then we'll make one."