#afab harry potter

[pickinglilahs]

NB!Harry (Drarry, My Loves) Ch. 12

AO3 link, Chapter 1 Ch 11, Ch 13 This chapter be Spicy 🔥 MDNI 18+ Unlike the last spicy chapter, this is 2.7K of pure filth. And by filth, I mean adorable, tender, loving, toe-curling, squeal-inducing, leg-kicking, slightly dom/sub, body-worship.

Draco and Haze agreed to skip the library and go back to the dorms after class.

Slughorn had let everyone who'd successfully brewed Felix Felicis keep a 12-hour vial as a reward. So, most of their class was also heading back to their rooms to store the potion somewhere safe.

Stopping at Draco's room first, he stored the vial in a jewelry box alongside some of his other valuables. Draco locked the box, then placed it in his truck, locking that as well.

Picking up his bag, Draco walked back over to Haze, who had waited by the door. Taking their hand, the two went to Haze's room.

While Haze was digging around their trunk, trying to find a safe spot for the potion, Draco took off his shoes, grabbed a book from his bag, and sat on the bed.

Satisfied the potion would be safe, Haze shut their trunk and came around the bed to where Draco sat. He set the book aside immediately to pull them up onto the bed; Haze came willingly, straddling his lap.

Haze was in trousers today, but Draco could feel the tall socks underneath as one hand rubbed over their knee. The other hand was settled farther up, on their hip, fingers playing at their waistband where their shirt was tucked in.

Haze had their hands in their lap, chin tucked and eyes downcast. Frowning, Draco dropped his head a bit, trying to catch their eye.

Nothing.

"Haze?"

No response.

"Mon Ange?"

Haze's eyes darted to Draco's before quickly looking away again. Sighing, Draco lifted the hand from Haze's knee to their chin. Tipping their face gently, Draco waited for them to look at him before he spoke.

"I need you to talk to me, Mon Ange. I can't read your mind; I'm not that good at Legilimency."

Haze huffed a bitter laugh. "Yeah, well, I'm pants at Occlumency so I doubt you'd have any trouble." They closed their eyes, face turning slightly away in Draco's hold.

Frowning, he studied them. It had been a joke, nothing of consequence. But there was something in Haze's reaction that gave Draco pause. When did they study- Oh. Draco pulled Haze to him, holding tight.

"I will never invade your privacy like that. I-" love you. Draco almost confessed right there. Merlin. What else could he say?

He buried his face in Haze's hair to keep from saying anything stupid. Haze's arms were trapped between the two of them and they squirmed, slightly uncomfortable.

Draco quickly pulled back, taking Haze's face in both hands. I love you. "I would never. Will never."

Haze nodded slightly, a ghost of a smile lighting their eyes; relief plain on their face.

"And now I've sidetracked us, haven't I?"

A real smile crawled onto Haze's face then.

"Did you want to talk? It seemed like you were going to say something before."

Haze frowned in confusion and shook their head. "No. I don't think so."

"Hmm..." Draco studied them, one hand stayed on their cheek, brushing his thumb back and forth, while the other dropped down behind their back, pulling them closer. He could have sworn Haze was about to say something, but their confusion was genuine.

"In that case,"

Draco had intended to talk to them about the book Hermione had given him, but with Haze in his lap like that, it was a little hard to think.

Draco kissed them.

Firm and sure, Draco's lips danced with Haze's, drawing out a gasp before they sighed into his touch. Their hands traveled up, one sliding into Draco's hair, the other coming to rest on his jaw.

Draco nibbled on their bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth completely. Haze whimpered, and Draco's tongue followed the sound, wanting to swallow it. Haze opened for him, loving the feel of Draco's tongue ravaging their mouth.

Haze could live here. Draco's arms around them, his sweet scent filling their nose, mouth drowning in the taste of his mint tea. They didn't have a care in the world.

The world didn't even exist.

The only thought in Haze's head was 'Draco.'

Draco's hand moved from Haze's cheek to their hair. His fingers went to the base of their neck, wrapping around the strands till he had a firm hold. Gently, he tilted Haze's head just right so he could kiss them deeper.

Haze sucked a sharp breath in at the complete control Draco had just gained over them, then whimpered, falling completely pliant in his arms. Draco could have done anything to them in that moment, and Haze would have gone willingly.

As if sensing their submission, Draco growled low. The sound reverberated through Haze, sending a shiver straight down to their core. They ground down against him, both moaning at the friction.

Draco tilted Haze's head farther to the side. He trailed his lips down their jaw, nibbling up to their ear. "Tell me what you want, Mon Ange."

Haze whimpered, "You."

Draco growled again. He dropped his head to their shoulder and took a deep breath. It took all of his self-control not to take Haze right then and there. That wasn't what they meant, and he knew it. He also knew that Haze would let him take them anyway, and he didn't want that, not if it wasn't what Haze wanted too.

Not sure what they'd done wrong, Haze whimpered again, in alarm this time.

Draco kissed their shoulder reassuringly before pulling back to look at them. "Me what, Haze? Tell me what you want."

Haze looked confused and a bit distressed. "Want... Want you."

Draco blinked. No. Surely not. "Want me to do what, Mon Ange?"

Haze whimpered, not understanding. They didn't know what they wanted, let alone how to ask for it; they just knew they wanted Draco.

Fuck.

"Okay, Chaton. I've got you." Draco leaned in to kiss Haze gently and they sighed into him.

They trusted him.

Completely.

Draco crossed his legs, putting one hand under Haze to lift them slightly. Then he leaned forward to lay them gently down on the bed, never breaking the kiss. He shifted to put one knee on either side of Haze for better leverage, all but sitting on their lap.

Slowly pulling his hand from Haze's hair, Draco made sure not to catch his fingers on their curls. Sensing him pulling away, Haze clung to Draco's neck. But he didn't go any farther.

In fact, Draco trailed kisses down Haze's neck to their collarbone. His hands found the buttons on Haze's shirt and slowly began working them open.

Once Haze realized what Draco was doing, they stiffened. His hands paused, but Draco kept kissing and licking at Haze's neck. It only took a moment for them to relax. A particularly firm bite to the tendons in Haze’s neck making them cry out, going pliant once more.

Once they had, Draco nibbled his way back up to Haze's ear. "You're beautiful, Haze."

Only then did his hands continue with the buttons, making short work of them.

Haze whimpered at the words and gasped as Draco's hands made contact with the bare skin of their stomach.

Draco pulled back enough to see their face, hands resting solidly on Haze's sides. Their shirt had fallen open a little when he pushed his hands in, but Draco had no intention of looking. Not yet.

He stared down into Haze's wide eyes. "You are beautiful, Haze Potter. In any and every form you take, you are beautiful."

Something had changed in Haze's face. Before, they had been completely submissive for him. But now? Draco wasn't sure.

"Wh-Wh-What-What-What if y-you d-d-d-d-don-don-don't like w-wh-what y-y-you s-s-s-see?"

Damn.

Draco was shaking his head before Haze had even finished. "I don't-"

Draco paused. Was it insensitive to say he didn't care what they looked like? Especially since they were still trying to figure themself out? Draco wanted to be supportive, not dismissive. He switched gears.

"That doesn't matter to me. It never has. It's only ever been you. I'm Haze-sexual. Whatever form you take is what I want."

The hope and disbelief warred on their face. Draco was just going to have to make them believe him then.

Leaning in, Draco brought their lips together softly.

"You're Beautiful." He breathed

He ran his thumbs over Haze's sides, sending goosebumps scattering over their skin.

"Absolutely Beautiful." Across their jaw.

He trailed his lips back down to their collarbone, hands beginning to roam up and down their sides. Haze shivered beneath him, body on fire.

"Beautiful." In the hollow of their throat.

He kissed down their sternum before nosing their shirt further apart. He left kisses over every inch of their skin as it was revealed.

"Beautiful." Into their chest.

Haze tightened their grip on Draco's shoulder and hair as his mouth found one of their nipples. He nosed at it. Kissed it gently. Gave it a long lick, eyes looking up to meet Haze's.

"Beautiful." Across their puckered bud.

Then he slowly took it into his mouth. He suckled. Nibbled. Blew air across it. Then turned to play with the other one, spurred on by the breathy moans each action drew.

"Beautiful." A praise.

Continuing his ministrations, Draco's hands slid down Haze's covered thighs. Gripping and caressing, his hands roamed, slowly making their way up to Haze's belt.

"Beautiful." A veneration.

Draco rested his hands on the buckle, giving Haze plenty of time to stop him. They whined at him, arching into his touch. He smiled, kissing their sternum again.

"Beautiful." A thank you.

He shifted further down, slowly undoing their belt, trailing kisses further down. He undid the button and zipper, looking up as Haze took the hand from his shoulder to drape over their eyes. He kissed right above their waistband.

"Beautiful." A prayer.

He hooked his fingers in their pants and Haze lifted their hips obediently. Moving off them for a moment, Draco removed their pants and trousers completely. He took a moment to appreciate the view. Tall socks; open shirt; love bites trailing up their collarbone and neck.

"Beautiful." A devotion.

Throwing one knee back over them, Draco braced himself on one hand. Pulling their arm away from their face Draco smiled. He brought Haze's hand to his mouth, holding their gaze and kissing their palm.

"Beautiful." A promise.

Draco shuffled back so he was resting between their legs. Holding Haze's gaze, he placed a pillow under their head, then moved to place one under their hips.

"Beautiful." An adoration.

Haze went to cover their face again, but Draco caught their wrist. He guided their hand gently to the headboard and they gripped it tightly.

"You're too beautiful to hide, Mon Ange. I want to see you."

They shut their eyes, not knowing how to handle the intensity of his gaze. Draco's heart hurt; he would make them believe it, even if it killed him.

Kissing them gently, Draco moved down. Starting at their socked claves, he kissed his way up one leg.

"Beautiful." A caress.

At the top of one sock, he licked a stripe up their inner thigh. Before he got to their center, Draco shifted to do the same on the other side, kissing up their calf and licking his way up.

"Beautiful." A groan.

He peppered kisses over their inner thighs, up the creases of their legs. He nuzzled into the dark curls right above where they were aching for his touch. Haze whimpered.

"Beautiful." A growl.

Settling down, Draco wrapped his arms under Haze's thighs and looked up to their face. They had their eyes scrunched shut, both hands white-knuckling the headboard.

"Tell me to stop, Mon Ange."

They shook their head violently, whining alarmed at the thought. Smiling, Draco took a long, slow lick right up their center. Choking on a gasp, Haze arched their back in pleasure.

This was what they had wanted. Had needed. Had been unable to voice. For Draco to do as he pleased with them.

"Beautiful." Hungry

Licking his lips, Draco dived in. He couldn't get enough. The sounds. The taste. The quivering in their thighs when he found that bundle of nerves.

Pulling one arm back, Draco slowly ran a finger up and down their wetness as his tongue played with their clit. One of Haze's hands came down to grip his hair. Their legs tried to squeeze around Draco's ears, but he kept a firm grip on the one, hand coming around to hold their hips in place.

"Draco."

A gasp.

A plea.

A prayer.

Sucking on the throbbing bundle of nerves, he slid a single finger into them. Haze cried out in pleasure, arching into Draco.

Adding a second finger, Draco pulled his mouth back to blow cool air against them. Haze's whole body shuddered, and they whimpered.

Draco smiled and crooked his fingers. He growled as Haze jumped, a moan breaking free as their hand yanked on Draco's hair.

Tapping at the spot inside them with his fingers, Draco attacked their clit with his tongue once more. Haze cried out, their whole body trembling as every nerve was set on fire. Heat pooled as Draco devoured them.

"Draco!"

They could feel their pleasure mounting, Draco chasing it higher and higher. When it finally snapped, Haze shrieked. Eyes rolling back, body trembling, Draco sent them flying over the edge.

They spasmed, whole body arching in pleasure. Draco carried them through the pleasure, slowing as they gradually came down.

But he didn't stop.

When they relaxed, Draco added a third finger, leaving one crooked as he pumped his hand steadily. Haze cried out in alarm, pleasure quickly building once more.

He sucked on Haze's clit again, and they sobbed on a moan. Draco hummed at the sound, the vibrations throwing them over the edge for a second time.

Body jerking, they sobbed. "Draco!"

Still, he didn't stop.

Didn't slow.

Moving his hand faster, harder, he pulled his head back a little, shifting his thumb to rub over their abused clit. Draco's jaw ached and he could feel the drool and slick dripping down his chin. His senses were overwhelmed with Haze.

Glancing up, Draco relished in the sight. Haze's head was thrown back, mouth parted, breathy whines accompanying the desperation on their face. They began rocking their hips against him, hurtling toward the edge once more.

Turning his head to press a kiss to their thigh, he whispered against them. "One more for me, Chaton. I know you can."

They sobbed a moan. Half-formed words tried to make their way out, but the only clear thing that reached Draco was 'please.'

Draco growled. "Come for me, Chaton." He bit down on Haze's soft inner thigh, and they screamed.

Body seizing, heart stuttering, breath choking, eyes rolling back, they did just as he told them.

He kept his hand moving till their body fell limp. Hands dropping to the bed, head falling to the side, they were spent and completely boneless.

Only then did Draco slowly pull back. Fascinated, he pulled his fingers free. They were coated in Haze's clear slick, but, thankfully, there was no blood.

The book Hermione had given him had warned him that could happen. It was also where he learned that he shouldn't use a cleaning charm just now.

Gazing up at them, Draco licked his fingers clean, admiring the peaceful look on their face and the occasional aftershock that was still twitching through them. After his fingers, Draco dipped back down to lick up the last of the mess he'd made.

Haze whimpered and squirmed, oversensitive. Their hand came back to Draco's hair, not pushing away, and too weak to hold on properly. Aftershocks wracked them, overstimulation just the right side of painful.

Draco gave one last lick to their folds and a final kiss to their clit. Only then did he pull back completely. Wiping his face on his sleeve, Draco sat back to admire his work.

"Beautiful." I love you.

Draco shed his shirt and trousers before crawling up the bed to lay beside them in just his pants. On his side, Draco reached one hand out to brush a stray curl from Haze's face.

Their eyes fluttered for a moment as they turned into the touch, seeking him. Smiling Draco trailed his fingers down their nose, over their cheeks. His thumb caught their abused lower lip; Haze must have been biting it. Or maybe that had been Draco's doing.

Shifting, they whined at him, only half awake now. Smiling, Draco reached for them. He shifted the two of them around, not bothering to mess with Haze's state of dress. He pulled the covers up over the two of them and wrapped his arm tightly around Haze, their back pressed firmly against his chest, one leg between their thighs, arm supporting their head.

"Sleep, Chaton. I've got you."

Just like that, Haze dropped off into dreams.

Draco closed his eyes too, an overwhelming sense of peace engulfing him. He had never been allowed this before- to be anything like this.

In control

Tender

Giving

Maybe he didn't need to worry about telling Haze he loved them after all.

Maybe he just had.

@bradley-95147-blog @shyshadows430

[distantdarlings]

STRAY FROM ROUTINE // m. riddle

RATING: R / 4.5K WORDS

Mattheo Riddle x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* You wake up with an evil plan to ignore Mattheo Riddle until he cracks.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! (P in V), unprotected, spanking, thigh-hitting, dom!mattheo, sub!reader, mean mattheo, slight breeding kink, controlling mattheo, reader is resisting (but she's doing it on purpose), toxic relationship values, name-calling, degradation, language, not fully proofread (lmk if I missed anything!)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Ride or Die, Pt. 2 - Sevdaliza (I can't get it out of my head :'))

- - -

The inspiration that struck you as soon as you woke up was one of some kind of age-old genius. The motivation that came with it seemed to cloud your mind like some kind of drug, flooding your mind and inhibiting all other thoughts that attempted to enter your brain the rest of the day.

You had always been a bit of a shit-starter when it came to Mattheo Riddle, but today, you were feeling downright sinister.

Your eyes flicked across the room to catch the dark boy’s oaken eyes. His strong hand lifted from the counter to toy with his bottom lip teasingly. Every move was calculated, down to the way his shoulders moved when he took in a breath.

He skirted through his usual routine of tracing his eyes slowly down your body, then flicking them back up to steel his eye contact. For the first few months of your relationship with him—if that’s what you wanted to call it—that whole intimidating facade had worked on you effortlessly. But now, you knew he was more bark than he was bite. That was, as far as you could tell.

You supposed that after sleeping with him so long, he’d have lived up to his whole King Mattheo act, but he'd fallen short. You were disappointed, to say the least. The majority of the entire student body, including some teachers, were terrified of this boy that currently stared you down, but you seemed to be missing something.

Was he good in bed? Hell yes. Could he get mean? Also yes, but where was the difference? As far as you could tell, he didn’t fuck any differently than any other Slytherin boy you’d been with. They were practically all the same. Mean, dominant, and rough. They usually had some kind of ego to keep up—or a tiny dick to compensate for. Whatever it was, Mattheo didn’t seem any different.

He was mean, dominant, and rough. The only thing that had surprised you about him was how gentle he was beneath it all. With every bruising thrust, his fingers cradled your hips gently where others gripped with their nails. With every mark he sucked into your skin, he darted a tongue out to soothe where others let it simmer. He was a rough lover, but he was still a lover. The others were just rough.

That was what had kept you going back to him so many times. But you were getting impatient. It was time for Mattheo to step his game up, or you were going to get bored. You wanted him to prove to you that he was different. But you didn’t want to have to ask for it. You just wanted him to know to do it.

By the time the last of the breakfast crowd had dissipated and the campus prepared for their first periods, Mattheo hadn’t broken eye contact once. Nor had you. If there was one thing you weren’t going to do—for Mattheo or any one else—it was back down from a challenge. If he wanted to tease and stare and frustrate, you’d do the same.

Finally, he stood with the rest of his group of friends. They headed toward the door but his focus remained on you.

The tip of his wand peeked out from the edge of his uniform sleeve and, with a few mumbled words, a small slip of paper had collapsed from the tip of the wooden object. It hit the floor silently, and weaved through the swarm of feet marching through the Great Hall. Once it had reached you, it stopped just before your shoes beneath the table.

At risk of being caught by your friends, you refused to glance down at it. But, just like he always did, Mattheo had thought of everything. With a shiver, you felt the piece of paper slide up your leg like a slithering snake.

It slunk over the curve of your knee and seemed to wait for you to grab it. Ignoring the thought that it seemed to be alive like some sort of bug, you slipped your hand beneath the table and pulled the slip of paper toward you. Discreetly, you opened it up and looked down at it.

How do you want me to take you today? was scrawled in heavy, broad strokes across the sliver of parchment.

You bit back a smirk. That little fucker.

But, no. With the inspiration you had today—the inspiration to push Mattheo Riddle as close to the edge as possible—you weren’t going to allow him the satisfaction.

In fact, you were going to ignore him entirely until he cracked. That was the plan and you were settled with it. While this likely wasn’t the best thing for your own health, you weren’t too concerned. Mattheo Riddle was an asshole, but he wasn’t a murderer. You were pretty sure, anyways.

Satisfied with your decisions, you smiled lightly and pushed the piece of parchment into the first pocket of your school bag. As soon as you returned to your room, it would be placed with all of the other notes he had passed to you. Even though you weren’t wildly impressed with Mattheo’s performance so far, it was still nice to have the dirty, little notes sitting around for a rainy day.

- - -

And throughout the rest of the day, you stuck to your plan like glue. Every stare, every sneaking touch, every whispered word from Mattheo was met with a brick wall. You simply weren’t interested in any aspect of his usual antics, today. He needed to earn what he refused to admit he wanted so badly, which was you.

And by third period, you could tell he was nearly ready to explode. His jaw was clenching and unclenching, his fists were wrapped so tightly together, the knuckles were almost completely white. He was fucking angry—possibly angrier than you had ever seen him. And that was exactly what you had wanted. You wanted him to know that you were a million times different than any of the other girls he’d romanced so far.

He tried once more to entice a little desire from you just toward the end of class. The two of you sat in the last two rows at the very back of the classroom.

The room was elevated with the back rows at the highest point of the room, overlooking the rest of the class. Any secret movements were noticed simply by the backs of heads and a nonchalant teacher.

Mattheo sat directly behind you with one of his unnamed friends to his left, and another to that boy’s left. You were alone on your row. The class was not that big. But this was exactly the kind of environment a sly boy like Mattheo Riddle loved. He would take any opportunity he could to slide his dirty lips against your ear and whisper any deviance that popped into his head at the moment. And that’s what he’d done.

His head had settled just beside yours. You’d heard his breathing before even notice the heat from his skin radiating onto yours. A shiver passed through your body at his proximity. Annoyed at your body’s involuntary reaction to the dark boy, you slipped your arms beneath the table to hide the chills sprouting across your flesh.

He must have seen them, though, because a small breath of a smirk passed across his face in your peripheral.

“I don’t know what your game is, little girl,” he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “But you’d better straighten that attitude up, or I swear, I’ll fix it myself.”

He didn’t say another word before he leaned back against his own seat, leaving you to wonder whether or not this was a good idea. You reminded yourself that intimidation was his shtick. That was the majority of the reason everyone was so frightened of him. You couldn’t even remember the last time he’d actually beaten anyone up or done anything to anyone who’d wronged him. Like you’d said, he was all bark.

Still, despite his threatening words, you simply flipped your hair over your shoulder and completely ignored him. He scoffed, seemingly suppressing a laugh. He was mad. But he wasn’t going to admit that to you right now.

Besides, you were sure you’d never hear the end of it once it was all said and done.

Once the teacher had announced that class was over and recited the homework assignment to a crowd of deaf ears, you gathered all of your things quickly and made a beeline for the door. You hadn’t even given Mattheo a second to gain a bit of awareness before you were out the door and halfway down the hallway.

You didn’t have a fourth period, but Mattheo did. He had Potions for the next hour, giving you just enough time to spruce up your appearance a bit and prepare for the storm that was brewing. You knew Mattheo well enough by this point to know how this evening was going to go. He would threaten your body within an inch of its life, ask if you ‘knew who he was,’ then he’d fuck you. Just like he always did. There was too much of a pattern. Not enough spontaneity to keep you occupied—you needed more. Hopefully, today was what did it for him.

The dormitory you shared with your mates was completely barren due to their schedules. Out of the five of you, you were the only one that had chosen fourth period as your free period. It seemed odd to you that they would rather have a late start to the day, than an early end. In your opinion, you’d wake up as early as you had to, if it meant you did not have to yawn your way through the last classes of the day.

You dropped your bag onto your bed and made for the small desk that was positioned just beside the headboard. It was stocked with all of your personal hygiene products—organized impeccably—and various bits of stationery for schoolwork. It served as both a desk and a vanity for you while you were getting ready in the mornings—or getting ready to see Mattheo.

You hoped he would be desperate all through his class. You hoped his eyes would be flickering around nervously, his knee bouncing rapidly, sweat dripping down his throat. It would be a sight to behold.

Mattheo was gorgeous—there was no denying that. It was just his attitude that needed adjusting. You smirked to yourself before taking a seat at your desk, glancing at your appearance in the small mirror you’d propped up against the stone wall.

And before you were even able to apply a second layer of mascara, the large wooden door in the corner of the room rattled violently. Three aggressive knocks permeated the silence so roughly the dust motes illuminated by the sun shuddered wildly.

A chill of anticipation settled in your stomach. Surely, that couldn’t be him. Fourth period had barely even begun.

You rose from your desk and crossed the length of the room, every step echoing through your body like a cannon. Why were you so nervous? The possibilities of consequences of your own actions were really starting to rattle around in your skull.

Your fingers wrapped around the bronze door handle and pulled.

Sure enough, on the other side, stood Mattheo Riddle. A malicious smirk was printed across his lips. He glanced around a few times, seeming to scan the surroundings of your dorm.

“Hi, is there anyone else here?” he asked, his voice sickly sweet. The courteous role he was playing made you all the more nervous. He never acted this way, even when he’d come to your dorm in the past. He was usually just as brash as he usually was, no matter who was in the room.

“No, there’s not,” you said, your voice annoyingly shaking just a bit. “And if you don’t mind, I’m actually pretty busy—”

Just as you started to push the door closed again, Mattheo’s foot slammed against it, completely blocking its path. You tried to push against him, but he was much too strong for you to defend against.

“I’m sure you can spare a few moments for a quick chat,” he nearly growled, never dropping the fake smile planted on his face. His strong arm pushed against the door, rendering your protection of it completely useless. He pushed through and into the room as if you’d never been holding it in the first place.

He kicked the door shut behind him as soon as he stepped through, the door clunking shut with a rough thud. You suppressed a flinch at the loud sound, refusing to show any sign of vulnerability. You couldn’t pull away from your plan now that you were feeling his anger—that was cowardly.

“Mattheo, I’ve asked for you to leave,” you warned.

“Yeah? Just answer one question for me, baby…” he said, stepping directly into your personal space and invading it in every way possible.

As if asking for permission, he raised his hand slowly and let it hover just next to your cheek. When you did nothing, he placed his fingers along your jawline. They stroked gently across a small surface area, insisting that you felt every searing second of contact.

His face came impossibly close against yours. His warm breath fanned slowly across your cheek, hints of fire and cinnamon lingering beneath your nose. The feeling of his lips skirting slightly over your skin on the way to your ear sent a myriad of chills down the length of your arms and a pool of heat between your thighs. You silenced a shudder on its way through your lips.

“Did you act that way on purpose?” he whispered. His lips caressed the curvature of your ear, his hot words curling around the room. “If not, I’ll find a new girl to open her legs when I want. But if you wanted this, I will make you regret ever having turned away from me.”

You swallowed thickly, the sound piercing the blanket of silence that fell around the room the minute Mattheo stopped speaking. It irked you to no end, that the entire world seemed to hold its breath to wait for this boy. This dark, irritatingly impossible to resist boy. It was more than you were able to handle, no matter how determined you were to prove a point.

“What I wanted…,” you trailed off coldly. “Was for you to prove to me that you’re not exactly like every other Slytherin that waltzes in here, comes in ten seconds, and then asks me if I’ve finished. I’ve been waiting for that special something to jump out at me, but it just hasn’t. I’m getting bored of you, Mattheo.” You took a deep breath, gaining enough courage to flatten your face and select your next words perfectly. “Speaking of, I was wondering if your friend, Enzo, was single.”

You struggled to not smirk at his reaction. If you didn’t know Mattheo, you’d have assumed he was going to crash out and leave the room. But you knew him and his destructive tendencies. His rage, though extremely stigmatized, was something to be in awe of, and you were ready to see it. And to be the target of it.

His eyes darkened until they were barely reflecting any of the dim light around the room. His lips parted slightly, just enough for an evil smirk to stretch across his face. He was all dark eyes and sharp canines, and it looked as if he were desperate to sink them into your flesh.

“You’re fucking done,” he whispered menacingly.

Then his hand was around your throat, firm and bruising. He walked you backwards until your back roughly hit the stone wall, the cold rock biting into your shoulder blades. His lips met yours with a fervor you’d never seen before.

His tongue cruelly parted your lips and laid claim to the entirety of your throat. You could hardly breathe with the pressure he was applying around your neck and the force of his kiss. Yet, still, you could not deny the heat building within your stomach and radiating downwards.

His free hand wrapped around your waist, the fingers slipping slyly beneath the waistband of your uniform skirt. Just as always, in the midst of the fiery storm, his fingers were able to imitate some form of softness just long enough for his hand to prepare to rip your skirt away. Despite the roughness he provided everywhere else, his fingers were gentle as they slid along your skin so as not to pinch it against the wall. It was just thoughtful enough to melt your heart down into a broiling golden puddle.

His strong hand gripped the material of your bottoms and pulled them roughly down, revealing the absence of anything beneath, save your blackened tights. When he lifted his hand once more to tear your panties away, he recognized the lack of material within his fingers and growled against your lips.

“You fucking wanted this, you dumb slut,” he spat, his pearlescent teeth sinking down into the flesh of your bottom lip. With a whimper and flash of white across your vision, he finally released you, leaving behind a thin slathering of blood across your teeth.

“You wanted me to tear you to pieces,” he whispered, his hand finally freeing your throat, but only to get to work on ripping your uniform shirt apart. The buttons clattered wildly across the floor, rolling freely each in their own directions.

You moved to protest but Mattheo shoved you back against the wall. He shook his head as if in disbelief you’d even try to get away from him at this point in time. In his mind, this was well-deserved punishment. If you were his girl, you were going to fucking listen to him. You knew what you were getting into when you first laid your lips on his.

With your shirt split down the middle, the only thing standing between his lips and your heaving body were a lacy bra and a pair of tights. The cold, gray air hit your soaked body so aggressively, you thought your teeth might start clacking together.

“All this going to waste because you couldn’t ask me for what you wanted,” he whispered. “I’m going to have to destroy this gorgeous body, when it should be worshiped.”

To your disbelief, he sank down to his knees and placed his hands gently on the back of your thighs. His scorching mouth made contact with your thighs—still covered in the thin material of your pantyhose—and he began to place wet, biting kisses along your flesh. He moved slowly from just above your knee to the top of your thigh. Each mean kiss ached as if they were done by a wild animal, but—just as he always fucking did—he soothed them with his skilled tongue afterwards. Never letting you hurt for too long.

Once he reached your core, fluttering in anticipation, he took a deep breath. The scent of your desire filled his senses as if it was his last meal. Just from how he’d loved in the past, you could tell that he was refraining from devouring you. But this was a punishment. No matter how sweet or caring he so often was, he was never going to let you have what you wanted.

“But that won’t do today…” he whispered against the surface of your tights just above your core, so close that his lips brushed across the sensitive skin. You withheld a whimper.

“Seems like it wasn’t happening any other day, either,” you chuckled breathlessly. You weren’t dropping this fucking routine. You wanted this and every inch of teasing Mattheo wanted to give you.

He laid a biting slap across your left thigh. The sound of it echoed throughout the room, only being interrupted by the cry that left your lips at the sudden abuse.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” he demanded, his hand soothing the sore flesh.

He pressed one more kiss to the blossoming handprint, before sliding a short nail against the hosiery, ripping it instantly.

You gasped at the sensation, watching as he pulled on the material. It shredded down your leg, exposing your bare thighs to the pale light. Flaming red fingerprints bloodied the soft flesh and marked you as his.

Despite your annoyance at his lack of excitement during the last few times you’d fucked, the feeling of possession that he’d laid on you always made an impression. You felt like you belonged to him in every aspect of the word.

Then before you were able to let another smart-ass comment fly, he slipped his hand beneath the large shear in the tights and ripped a hole right across your aching groin, baring your searing cunt to the world.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

Even though he was intending to punish, Mattheo couldn’t help but appreciate your body just a little bit. Though he wouldn’t admit it just yet, he could die happily buried within you.

Seeming to realize his “punishment” was a bit too sweet, he gripped your hips roughly and flipped your body around to face the wall. You helped aloud as the craggy stone bit into the skin of your breasts through your bra. The lace mixed with the cold wall made your nipples prick almost uncomfortably.

“Gonna fuck some manners into you, baby,” he murmured, his gravelly voice echoing against the curve of your spine. His mean fingers traced each nodule of each vertebrae until he reached the dimples imprinted in the small of your back.

His thumbs pressed deep against them, rubbing an easy massage into them for just a second.

“Feel good? You got any other dumbass things to say?”

“Why waste my breath? I’m gonna have to fake my fucking orgasm in a few seconds.”

You bit back a moan as he reached through your legs, gripped the hole he’d ripped in your tights, and widened it between your thighs. He pulled it up and over your ass.

“Yeah? You fake it every time, baby?” he growled into your ear, his heavy bulge pressing into your bare ass.

“Yeah,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a whisper. Your hands were settled against your desk, fingers tightened around the edges, nails scratching into the wood. Your back was arched uncomfortably against his core, begging for every slight thrust he pressed into you. You could practically feel him within you already.

“You fake it every time you cum all over my cock, huh?” he asked. Behind you, you could hear him wrestling his belt out of its loops and dropping his trousers.

“Answer me, bitch,” he demanded, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling your head back against his chest.

“Fuck, Matty, that hurts!” you whined. It was a good, searing kind of pain but you didn’t want him to know that. Didn’t want him to know that your arousal was dripping down your legs by now.

“Yeah? That hurts?” he taunted. “That’s nothing, baby. You can take it.”

Then suddenly, his hot core was leant against the top of your ass. You were biting back a moan and running your fingers into the desk so hard they were going numb. Still, you weren’t going to give up.

“We’ll see if you can give it—fuck!”

He shut you up by slamming himself into you. The force of his intrusion hit your cervix at a sharp angle, sending stars into your eyes.

“Let me hear you fake it, yeah?” he groaned as he pulled himself out of you all the way to the tip before pushing himself back into you.

You couldn’t hide it anymore. Though you could still force some mean comments out every once and a while, you were unable to repress your moans.

“I’m basically an expert at this point!” you moaned.

“I bet,” he growled, his hips increasing in pace. “I know the way you clench around me everytime I take you from behind—” every sentence was pushed out between deep groans that echoed in your womb— “I’ve memorized every possible way you can scream my name…and I’ve learned every single thing I have to do to make that pretty pussy cum all over me.”

Following his words, his right hand snaked around your hip and pressed directly against your clit. He rubbed perfect circles into the sensitive spot, demanding a finish from you as soon as he could pull it from you.

“You’re a bit too cocky for my liking,” you breathed against his ruthless pounding. “I’d still like Enzo’s number.”

And with one final thrust, he pierced the bubble of pleasure that had bloomed rapidly in your stomach. You came impossibly hard, with the evidence of your high embarrassingly gushing around him. He pulled away from you and let your desire cover his stomach.

He laughed almost maniacally at the way your orgasm stretched out for what felt like hours.

And then, as you were finally coming down, he was pumping himself noisily into his hand and coming all of your lower back, painting the dimples he so loved to touch.

He moaned breathlessly, a slight crack in his voice, as he slowed his movements down and came down from his own high.

A tired laugh left his swollen lips as he trailed his finger through the remnants of his spend on your back and pushed his coated fingers into your sensitive entrance.

The overstimulation sent a flurry of ice up your spine. You cried at the sensation. Your legs fluttered before giving out.

On your way down to the floor, he caught you against his arms. Your knees were impossibly weak, but he was ever so strong.

“You faking this too, baby?” he clicked his tongue before settling you against your bed.

“Fuck you,” you sighed, your eyes fluttering against the ceiling. The lightheaded feeling floating through your skull was nearly too much for you to handle, but you were still high up on your pedestal and refused to come down.

Distantly, you could hear him pulling his pants up and rearranging his clothes.

Gently, he slid the remainder of your hosiery down your legs, unhooked your bra, and lifted you up off of the bed bridal-style. Somehow managing to cradle you with just one hand, he used his left to yank your comforter back, and settle you beneath it.

He leaned down beside your ear and pressed his lips to your temple. Just before he pulled all the way back, he began to whisper.

“The next time you wanna act like that—just remember that I fucked you to sleep, brat.”

- - -

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[rainydayathogwarts]

Jealous, Jealous, Jealous girl - Ron Weasley

summary: Lavender won't stop flirting with your boyfriend, but he won't tell her off because he's loving the PDA coming from you. You can't stand it, so you show her who he belongs to. warnings: smut, handjob, exhibitionism, (semi) public sex

She's gone crazy.

What was going through her head when she threw herself onto him and pulled him in such a tight hug? Did she not see you, standing just feet away from him, about to give him a kiss for his success? You could see the shock and confusion on his face, arms by his side as he ran the situation in his head, refusing to return her hug.

From beside you, you heard Fred and George gasping and murmuring some "She's dead" and "Good luck to her" when they saw the look on your face.

Just the other day she sat at your potions table, listening as you told Hermione how well your relationship was going. She saw the way he wrapped his arm around your shoulder when class finally ended, guiding you to your next one.

And now she's the one with her arms around him.

Ron attempts to push her away slowly, separating himself from the hug, but you don't acknowledge him as he walks towards you, rather giving Lavender a death stare before turning to your boyfriend and returning the kiss he leans in for.

You can feel her eyes on you as you press yourself further into him, going onto your tiptoes as you reach your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss by slipping your tongue into his mouth to meet his, intertwining yourselves into a passionate kiss. When you separate, you're both panting for air, and Ron's big hands are gripping the curve of your ass, one of his hands moving up to caress your waist.

You're still holding him close, a manicured hand moving down his neck to run down his chest and you giggle when you see the look of amazement on Ron's face. It was clear he was only expecting that from you behind closed doors.

"Congrats on your win baby." You whisper, and Ron leans in again, stealing a quick kiss from you before giggling and pulling away from you, receiving pats on the back from his older brothers who wink at you when you walk away. You wipe your bottom lip from the smudged lip gloss and make eye contact with Lavender, whose eyes were still glued to you, and you tilt your head, smiling kindly at her.

It wasn't until the day after, when you sat with your friends at the Gryffindor table that you understood that this 'game' Lavender was playing was only just starting. You brought your mug to your lips, lightly blowing on it before taking a sip when Lavender walked behind your boyfriend, clasping a hand on his shoulder and giving him a flirtatious smile when he turned around before walking off. His lip curled upwards in disgust and you slowly swallowed your tea as your eyes followed the strawberry blonde.

You didn't bother reacting to her, even as she stared at you with a satisfied smirk on her face, which started to falter at the unfazed look on your face.

"Darling, are you done?" Your head snapped back towards your boyfriend and you nodded, standing up in sync to walk to class. When you stood side by side, you let Ron take your book bag off your shoulder to sling it over his as you took his free hand, intertwining your fingers together.

You could see Ron open and shut his mouth several times from the corner of your eye, as though contemplating if he should say anything about the situation. Deciding against it, he walked into the classroom and pulled a chair out for you as he sat next to you. He opened his textbook, placing his wand on the edge of his desk when he felt your hand on his thigh. You could see his cheeks turn pink as your second hand came up to straighten up his tie.

"Everything alright love?" He asked and you nodded, your hand coming up from his thigh to rest on his shoulder. Leaning close to him until your face was mere inches from his, you whisper into his ear with a sultry tone "You don't have any plans for your free period after this, do you?" With Ron's gaze looking down, you squeeze your thighs together to make sure he gets the message. He shakes his head frantically as his hand comes down on your thigh, looking up to make sure no one is looking at your private exchange.

But someone is.

Lavender, now seated in the front of the class, is turned around in her chair to speak to her friend behind her, yet her eyes are locked on you and your boyfriend. He sighs, his hand lying still on your thigh, but he faces the front, ignoring the way she leans towards her friend to point you both out to her.

For some reason, Ron can't pay attention to McGonagall as she explains another spell, a million thoughts racing through his mind. Usually, he was the one who tried dragging you into his dorm during your free periods and you always fretted that one of his dorm mates would walk in on you, even as he laid on top of you and pressed kisses onto your body. Normally, he boldly kissed you in front of your friends in the common room, only to pull away and find you rosy-cheeked with your head turned away in embarrassment. Never in your relationship had you been the one with wandering hands, suggesting you ditch everything at hand to find an empty space to fuck while you could.

It was all because of her.

And as much as he hated her, God he was so grateful.

Having you express your possessiveness over him was igniting a kind of fire in his belly, and he would take your displays of affection towards him any day, anywhere. That's why he mindlessly let you guide him through the halls at the end of class, his eyes glued to you as his hand clutched yours tightly. He paid little attention to the wavy haired strawberry blonde who followed you, having seemingly ditched her friend to isolate the three of you and confront you.

Lavender stopped abruptly when she saw you heading into one of the small secluded study rooms deep within the Gryffindor common room, leaving the door open behind you, allowing her a full view of you pushing Ron against the wall and connecting your lips to his. She wavered in the doorway, looking through the small gap as you pressed your body to Ron's, one of his moans filling the air.

Your hands wandered down Ron's body until you reached his belt and you paused momentarily, looking into his eyes for any signs of discomfort, but all you got from him was a pleading "Baby, please."

You started unbuckling Ron's belt and he whimpered, pushing his hips against yours and leaning down to reconnect your lips in a desperate kiss. Once Ron was freed from the restraints of him belt, you reached your hand in his underwear to wrap around his hard cock, already leaking pre-cum from the tip. Ron separated from the kiss, his forehead pressed against yours and he let out a shaky breath, his hands gripping your hips as he let quiet moans out.

You spread his pre-cum around his dick, starting to move your hand slowly up and down his shaft and squeezing him at the base only for him to cry out in pleasure as one of his hands came up to lace itself in your hair. You gasped when he pulled your hair, looking up at him, mouth agape and eyes shut as his head leaned against the wall. Giggling, you looked down at his thick cock in your hand, his tip red and leaking pre-cum, so you brought your hand up to squeeze it, then smoothly ran your fingers across the top of it. Ron shuddered, his hips bucking in your hand uncontrollably and you sped your hand up, leaning into him to whisper words of praise.

"Come on baby, you're doing so good for me.

Why don't you come for me?

Be a good boy and come for me, then you can do whatever you want to me."

Ron gruntled, letting out a strangled moan as his hips humped into your hand a few more times, white ropes of cum shooting onto his crisp white shirt in long spurts.

You continued stroking him so he could ride out his orgasm until he started catching his breath, his clammy hands coming up to cup your face and pull you into another kiss. When you pulled away, he was grinning boyishly at you, and he glanced down to see the mess you created, raising his eyebrows at you.

When he looked back up though, he caught Lavender's eye in the doorway and shook his head. You followed his gaze and smirked, looking back at him to say "She just can't get enough, can she?"

Ron chuckled, putting his hands on your hips to spin you around to face the doorway and started undoing the buttons of your trousers. "Yeah, well why don't we show her who I belong to huh?" He teases, his fingers trailing under your panties, immediately finding your clit.

You moan, throwing your head back onto his shoulder and nod as his fingers find their way inside you and Lavender turns red in the doorway, frozen in place.

She doesn't know if she wants to be you or be with you.

[cursedmoon-doll13]

If It Serves You.

(Headmaster!Severus Snape x Reader)

Cw: Non/Dubcon + Aftermath, Afab Reader, Dark-ish Snape, Unprotected Sex, Powerplay, Sex as Bargaining, Facefucking, Crying, Fingering, Creampie, Begging, Degradation (use of slut) and Praise, Reader calls Snape ‘Headmaster,’ Former Student Reader, Mentions of Torture/Child Abuse, Denial of Feelings.

READ WITH CAUTION

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: As a professor of Hogwarts, your past ambitions, your fragile hope and unrelenting diligence have all led to nothing. Now, you are powerless beneath the rising force of He Who Must Not Be Named and his army of Death Eaters. The only thing left you have to give is your pride; your weak and vulnerable body.

Or, you beg the new headmaster to show mercy to your students in exchange for sexual favours.

Dividers by @/saradika

Of course, there was no pressing need to check and recheck the potions’ storage. Certainly no need to catalogue it twice. You did almost it out of instinct, or force of habit. Yes, It’s healthy to maintain a routine, including routine inspections, just like- just like-

“Professor ___,” comes a gruff voice from behind. In your nervous state, you imagine it is a Carrow, and freeze in panic. “Why are you here?”

You whirl around. No. It’s Professor Slughorn.

“Oh,” you straighten your robes. “Horace. I was just taking inventory.”

“Were you? I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.” He says brusquely.

“Of course, of course you can.”

Your voice carries the same placid, appealing tone with which you’ve used to calm your pupils. You wince at the sound of it. Then, his expression loosens. Not immediately, but little by little, settling into the creases and wrinkles of stress and age. His walrus moustache droops into a familiar frown.

“I’m… I’m very sorry, ___,” he says. “Whenever I leave my storage unattended for too long, I take this terrible notion that some very bright and brilliant student is going to brew a polyjuice potion. Heh.”

His laughter rings rather hollow.

“Yes, those were my thoughts exactly,” you concede, heaving a sigh. “It would be so simple. Not for all of them, but some of our best could do it. And then they would make a reckless attempt at escaping, or even try to impersonate one of those Death…”

You stop yourself, and peer carefully into his face.

You’ve noticed how Horace has visibly deflated, how he has lost his colour over the past few months. How could you not? You would never accuse the Slug of being slovenly, but you’re well aware that beneath all the powder his eye-bags are as sunken as yours.

“It is unfortunate that one of my… One of our best…” It seems that he cannot finish his sentence. Nonetheless, you know who she is.

“It’s a very unfortunate thing,” Professor Slughorn mutters idly. “Very unfortunate…”

He’s fiddling with a ring on one liver-spotted finger. His lips purse periodically, as if a throb in his temple is threatening to burst.

“Horace, It’ll all be alright,” you try to reassure him, knowing you cannot guarantee this.

The only response you receive is a distant nod. He does not stop fussing over his ring. Then, he turns abruptly stony again:

“Well, then,” he says. “You’d best be on your way.”

He dismisses you as curtly as he would a student, but you don’t protest. You know that when you leave, he will pacify his anxiety with a sleeping draught.

As you exit the dungeon and traverse the silent halls, the early winter chill rattles straight through your bones. It seems that Hogwarts grows colder each passing day; colder and emptier. Even when teaching, your classroom is as quiet as death.

Alchemy has never been a popular elective, and now you are down to very few students. Some had also disappeared completely over the Summer, mostly those without Pureblood status or families to support them… You try not to ponder too deeply on it. For their sake - and perhaps also for your own - you keep it together.

Yes. You must stay stubborn and strong. Especially considering what you are about to do now.

You shiver in your thin robes outside of the Headmaster’s office. The griffin sentinel glares haughtily down at you, and for a second you fancy it alive, judging you guilty for some crime. Thinking this, You glance this way and that, wary of onlookers. 

But all of the students are asleep; or at least, they should be. Most of your coworkers have also retired for the evening. You here stand alone. 

You take a deep, shuddering breath. 

“Sugar Quill.” Your voice echoes eerily. 

The griffin does not budge. The new headmaster has changed the password, of course. You suspected as much, but it was still worth attempting.  

“Amortentia,” you try next. No response. 

You shift, acutely aware of how ridiculous you must appear; a Hogwarts professor stumped by a statue. 

“Polyjuice. Veritaserum. Bezoar… Asphodel.” 

Nothing. 

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” you huff, already spiked with tight, uneasy tension. “It was so much easier when Dumbledore…”

A low, heavy rumble breaks your train of thought as the spiral staircase emerges. You quickly mount it and climb upwards, boots clattering on the rising stone. It gives way to a large study lined with bookshelves.

You’ve made it into Dumbledore’s office. 

Except it is no longer his. You must remind yourself of this fact often, and each time it stings, like a tiny pricking thorn ingrown into the heart. The study is far draughtier than you remember; devoid and bereft in the absence of Fawkes.

No, Albus is not here. Instead, what scowls over at you from behind the Headmaster’s desk is the unmistakable face of Severus Snape, and he does not appear pleased to see you.

“Kindly inform me why you are in my office.” His voice is slow and measured, but you can sense the venom lurking underneath. 

“I don’t remember ever giving you the password,” he continues, alighting from his chair. “Or have you picked up that nasty eavesdropping habit from one of our pupils?” 

He spat that last word as if it was a curse. 

“No, Severus,” you say quickly. “I guessed it.” 

Severus. Or Professor Snape. But now…

You think you catch him pale ever-so-slightly, or perhaps that is the dim lighting of the room, casting dark, creeping shadows across the floor. While there has never been a cordiality or warmth to your relationship, you recognise that you have been spared the worst of his barbed hostility.

Before now, that is; now, the distance between you is far too great. 

“Did you now?” He sneers.

In response, you draw up, mindful not to appear challenging as you tip your chin. 

“I’m here because I have a proposition for you,” you announce clearly. “I hoped you would be reasonable and hear me out.” 

Snape’s eyes narrow icily and suddenly you are in his Potions class again, overseen with strict authority. One wrong move, and the concoction will spoil and poison you. His black robes billow as he approaches, expanding like the hood of a cobra. 

“There is nothing you could possibly offer me,” he says, folding one shrouded arm over another. “And so there is nothing to discuss. Leave.” 

Your nerves are strung so tight, you can’t help but object: “The Carrows are far too cruel in their methods! Too brutal. The students-” 

“Are very fortunate to have been granted mercy by the Dark Lord,” Snape interrupts, and you swallow thickly. Of course, you could not have forgotten the festering dark mark that now itches underneath his robes, writhing and serpentine.

“But it isn’t enough,” you say, throat sandpaper dry. A rush of urgency floods your system. Now. It needs to be now, before you lose your courage. 

(A gash on the cheek, a row of dark-purplish bruises and welts, a swollen eye, whippings and burns, scars from chains, all so frightened, but brave still.)

“If you agree to grant my students your protection,” your voice falters. “I will give… Myself to you.”

The silence that follows is agonising. His expression is indecipherable; taut and stiff. You’re beginning to think that maybe you weren’t transparent enough. 

Your trembling hands drift towards your top buttons, and you start to undo them bit by bit. 

“Stop,” Snape orders. 

At this, you freeze. Your heart plummets starkly into your intestines. Oh. You hadn’t even considered that he would - or could - reject your offer. You fear you may have tipped the bubbling cauldron over and left it melting through the carpet. As you linger numbly, Snape’s tongue darts between his lips. Light flashes behind his stern black eyes. 

Perhaps he’s considering it, perhaps… 

“Come here,” he says sharply. You obey. 

Shuddering in the winter chill, you watch the slow bob of his Adam’s apple, the twitch of his lids as his gaze dips steadily downward… Snape’s forefinger comes to brush the fabric from your shoulder, his knuckle grazing your collarbone, and your pulse quickens anew. 

“I’ll do anything,” you plead. “Please, Severus.” 

“You will refer to me as ‘Headmaster,’” he corrects.

“Headmaster…” 

You suck in a shaky breath. Standing this close to him, you can make out the lilac rims of his sunken eyes and the worry lines on his forehead. 

He’s tired… The thought springs to mind, unbidden. 

The hand that tends to the rest of your buttons is not rough, but the coldness of his touch makes you flinch. Snape pulls down your outer robes in one swift motion, and you can’t help but gasp. Your nipples perk from the chill, skin prickled with goosebumps. Underwear was unnecessary, and though you knew that from the start, you are stripped so quickly it still leaves you cringing. He moves to fondle your breasts, and your breathing shallows. You stare desperately towards the floor, towards some old, faded tea stain.

“Fall on your knees, ___,” he tells you. 

You kneel quickly in front of him, and he moves to cup the nape of your neck. You don’t need to be instructed; you do your best to steady your hands and unfasten the button over his crotch. You nudge out his dick, and see that he’s already half-hard. 

Before he changes his mind, you spit into your palm and use it as lubricant as you get to work jerking him off. You can feel him watching you, silent and still. This situation is completely wrong, all wrong, but the awkwardness of it is almost juvenile. 

“___,” he calls above you. You stiffen. You know that cautionary tone. “If you have enough cheek to wag your tongue at me, you can also use it for this.” 

You nod faintly, licking your lips. Of course, you should have prepared for this, too, but you have barely even steeled your nerves. Hesitant, you lean forward and run your tongue along the shaft, tracing a vein. Your movements are practically mechanical; dispensing small, kitten licks over the tip, continuing to stroke him. This is now a kind of out-of-body experience for you, the sort of bizarre circumstance you can only encounter in a very strange dream. 

But then, Snape decides your next course of action for you, clutching your jaw and muffling your whimpers as he sinks into your mouth. 

A teardrop falls softly onto your chest, and it only occurs to you now that you’re crying. You gag out a sob as the tip of Snape’s cock hits the back of your throat, unable to prevent loose spit from dribbling down your chin. Above you, his breath hitches. 

“Open your eyes,” he demands. 

You didn’t know you had closed them; squeezed them tightly shut. You peek up at his pale face. 

His pupils are blown wide, almost entirely black. Snape forbids you to keep eye-contact with a firm grip over your head, and you gag again as he rocks his hips. You clutch his thighs for purchase while he fucks your face, tears streaming down your cheeks. For distraction, you try to focus on him, and his pleasure-stricken expression lulls you in like hypnosis; the tightness of his lips, his dark brows slightly furrowed, the minute twitches in his jaw. 

Snape’s thrusts begin to stutter, but he tightens his hold on you and forces you to take all of him. He drags in a sharp intake of breath, and warm, slightly bitter cum pools onto your tongue. 

“Swallow it. All of it.” 

You gasp for air, gulping it down hastily. 

“You'll be getting used to the taste of me. Stand.” 

Snape urges you up and steers you over to his table. Before you can blink, you’re whirled around and caged against his desk. The edge of it cuts harshly into your naked thighs, and you yelp. You can feel his long black hair sweep over your neck, a sensation that is almost ticklish. Snape yanks down your robes and they fall limply around your boots. Now, you are truly exposed, shivering and naked. The only source of warmth is his body heat pressed into your back, the starched, dark fabric of his clothing. 

His cool hand dips around and feels down your stomach, and your breath hitches as Snape unexpectedly plunges several fingers into your pussy. You shock yourself with how slick you are, mortified at the way he tsks behind you:

“Little slut. Is this what you’ve always wanted?” Snape hisses into your ear, spreading the pads of his fingertips over your labia, teasing your clit. 

“Yes!” You choke out. 

“Yes, Headmaster,” he pinches your clit warningly and it feels like an electric shock. 

“Yes, yes Headmast- ah…!” 

He starts to rub in rough, merciless circles, and you immediately try to stifle a cry against your wrist. Snape rips it impatiently from you. 

“Don’t even try to deny it. I can feel how wet you are.” 

It’s surely not the truth. Surely, you tell yourself... 

One long, deft forefinger slips into your slit and pumps steadily in and out. You let out a soft moan, unable to resist the quivering thrill that coils in your abdomen. You didn’t realise he would even try to prep you, and, against your will, you feel some of your fear dissipate. 

“You think I didn’t notice, did you?” He scoffs. “Always so desperate for my attention, always clamouring for a better grade.” 

Memories of your seventh year at Hogwarts resurface and spiral dizzily in your head. The newest, youngest professor, but strict and competent, and— 

Dark, sweeping cloak, black hair, black eyes… 

I even once wished I could brush away the strands…  

Then he retracts his fingers, slowly, torturously, You hate how you yearn for his touch in its absence, how you crave the buzz to smother your discomfort. 

Snape bends you cleanly over the polished table, your still damp breasts pressing into the hardwood. He traces a long, thin finger down your back, tracing languidly across your spine; you could almost believe his touch is tender. Almost. Instinctively, you try to turn your head to face him, but he denies you with a firm hand gripping the base of your neck. You whimper as he lathers cold precum on your thighs, positioning his straining dick over your entrance:

“…Or was it praise you were hoping for?” His voice is low and subdued. Snape’s breath fans over you, and for a moment you falter.

No, of course you don’t expect— 

No, not from Professor Snape. Only your best was acceptable. To elicit a nod of approval, or even a commending glance, you couldn’t possibly hope—

“Headmaster, I— I only ever wanted you to…” 

“Beg for it,” his tone sharpens again. 

Snape slips the tip of his cock inside your folds. But then, he stops, and does not move. You are trapped between his desk and him, left pitiful and squirming. 

“Headmaster,” you say weakly. “Please.” 

“Please what, ___?” 

You grit your teeth, still bristling at the indignity of it all. But you know that, whether he’s enjoying himself or not, Snape has the patience to wait this out. 

“Please, fuck me!” you plead.

You gasp as he grips your thighs and slides himself in further with a lewd, wet sound. Your walls stretch around him as you adjust to his length. He groans softly and rolls his hips, sinking deeper into your cunt, until you’re utterly full of him.

Despite it all, it feels sinfully good, but his movements are so sluggish that you can’t help but whine pathetically into the wooden table. 

“And what exactly is it that you’ve always wanted?” 

What I always wanted, when I was in Potions class… 

“For you to p-praise me, Headmaster.” 

In an instant, you realise this is true. Deep down, you have always hoped for his sole attention… And now he’s invading that dark, primordial world in between, spurring on those secret and forbidden desires you should never have conceived. 

Snape slowly pulls out, dragging every inch of his cock, and then snaps his hips back in, briefly hitting that sweet, sensitive spot that has you seeing stars. 

“Please!” You add, letting out a shrill moan. 

“And do you? Do you want this…?” 

He mutters so quietly, it almost sounds like he’s begging you. Snape’s pace is set now, rocking powerfully into you as you fill the air with loud, desperate whimpers. 

“I do!” You breathe, mind-numbingly uncertain. 

But it doesn’t matter anymore if you want it or not; the sensation is so overbearing and so ruthless, unforgiving and unfair, just like him. You’re barely cognizant of the arms that curl around your naked waist, almost embracing you, until they provide cushioning against the sharp desk. 

“You take me so well,” he murmurs, “So well.” 

Your head spins, threatening to give up on you completely. You could never have predicted such a drastic change in demeanour. The way he’s treating you now is so different from his earlier cruelty; his affectionate caresses might be almost loving. 

“So tight, so good for me…” He groans again, heavily, and the vibrations thrill up your spine as he spears you on his dick. “You’re doing perfectly.” 

He kneads the soft flesh of your thighs, sighing blissfully. You can feel the spiking thrum of Snape’s heartbeat, the soft touch of his lips on your neck, kissing reverently over your shoulder blade. You wish you could just see the expression on his face, if you could only see Severus for one moment…

“Headmaster,” you pant, craning your head. 

“Don’t,” he says hurriedly. “Don’t look at me.” 

Snape doesn’t relent, forcing you firmly in place with a hard squeeze on your shoulder. There’s something thick and vulnerable in his voice that you can’t place, but all you can respond with is a needy cry as he speeds up, angling his thrusts just right. You can feel the familiar shock of pleasure coiling up in your belly now, surging from how deep he reaches. 

“I’m the only one who can fuck you like this, aren’t I?” He snaps without warning, bursting with emotion again. You can only nod frantically in response.

“Yes, yes, Headmaster!” You sob, your eyes stinging with tears again.

Snape’s movements only grow stronger, his breathing heavier and huskier. His fingernails are digging small, half-moon indents into your skin. You don’t try to stifle the wanton moans that spill from your lips anymore, clawing for purchase at the wood. 

“___… When you cum, you cum for me.” 

Uncontrollably, you arch into the table. Your leg is cramping up from the exertion, muscles pulled taut, and you’re going to, you’re going to—

Your orgasm drowns the rest of your thoughts in static, white, hot bliss that smothers you. Snape shudders and moans as he buries himself to the hilt, pumping you full of his seed. His black cloak sweeps over you as he pulls out, far too soon, leaving you quivering and dripping with his cum.

The last, mangled strands of lucidity swim hazily in your mind. It takes a moment for you to remember why you were here at all.

After a few seconds, he releases you from the confines of his desk without a word. You bend down and hoist the ring of fabric up past your hips again, though your skin is sticky and damp. After a deep, shaky breath, you dare to glance at Snape. 

There’s a thin sheet of sweat beading his forehead. Snape helps you pull your robes over your shoulders. He silently fastens your buttons back up again for you, and his touch is surprisingly gentle. You don’t rebuff him. Your hands are trembling enough as it is. 

“Promise me that you’ll…” You halt.

Your vision is still blurry, but you could swear he looks like the old Severus. Not the figurehead or the professor, but the man. The Severus you once knew. 

There’s a strange look in his eyes that you don’t understand, and maybe you never will. 

You’re so dead tired you can barely drag your feet back to the staff’s living quarters. You wake Minerva— or, no, she is already occupied by her usual routine of restless pacing, tugging at her tartan dressing-gown. While she does interrogate you a bit crossly, you can tell she empathises with your ‘insomnia.’

After that you gulp down a contraceptive and stumble into bed, boneless and weary. You don’t cry at all, though you feel that you probably should.

In a way, you’re glad that Minerva doesn’t appear concerned or worried for you. That means she hasn’t found out. There was a persistent paranoia in the back of your mind that she had, that Minerva had seen or heard or sensed it somehow.

You wonder if she’d feel disgusted, or if she would simply pity you. Maybe that would be worse.

You flick your wand and flush out the light.

No. No one needs to know what you’ve done.

A month passes. The grip of winter releases its hold, and spring emerges in its wake, fresh and pure. It’s as if you can finally breathe again.

You hope that you do not imagine the way your student’s faces regain some semblance of warmth. You hope you do not imagine the unmarred bodies, mercifully free from wounds. You also hope that it is not their own schemes or plans that embolden them.

They should leave those matters to you.

Somehow, it feels like the nightmare is almost over. But not yet. Not yet. You still await your orders, and nurse lofty dreams of freedom in your heart.

When night falls, you strip off your underclothes and climb the spiral staircase once more. It is not excitement that tightens your chest, but it is also not dread. Perhaps something else you also do not understand, and cannot afford to think of now.

Headmaster Snape is standing by his desk. You realise he’s been waiting for you. He has that strange, mystifying look in his eyes again.

He offers you a hand.

“Come here,” he says.

[futurecorps3]

I'm just saying, if you did James Babe Potter with a busty reader, you should do one with a big ass one... Just because the one with the busty one was GREAT. I read it and re-read it, and I thank the anon who asked for it and I thank you for writing it!

𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Masterlist<3

MINORS STAY AWAY I'LL BLOCK EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU, THIS IS +18!!!

See also… All marauders versions in my marauders masterlist<3

I'm a James is a tits and thighs man truther but imma write this for the sake of you all thick girlies <3 I was dammed with big tits no ass so consider this piece of fiction MERE FANTASY for me but a reality for some lucky others. Tysm nonnie!<3

-Always touching it.

-Uses it as a pillow so often it's actually quite impressive

-Like he keeps finding positions in which he can be close to your bum when you guys cuddle or sit in the common room with the boys

-HE SOOO SLAPS IT WHEN HE WALKS UP TO YOU

-"JAMES!" you exclaim, startled but not surprised "You know I can't help m'self, darling" he mumbles, pecking and rubbing his nose on your neck lovingly

-At first, the boys were a tiny bit uncomfortable about it but it became such a common occurrence they just got used to it

-He stops if it makes you uncomfortable thoooooo

-oh god he puts his hand in your back pocket when you're walking together :(

-Ogling.

-Ngl he sometimes falls behind when you're walking in a group on purpose and just stares

-IT LOOKS SO GREAT IN YOUR HOUSE'S SKIRTS!!!

-AND IN YOUR JEANS!!!

-AND IN EVERYTHING YOU WEAR SO PLEASE SIT ON HIS FACE!!!

-He buries his pretty face in it too<3

-I've always thought he loves long hugs, like you know when you're casually talking to someone else and not paying your undivided attention to the person you're hugging WHILE you're still hugging that someone? Does that make sense?

-Yeah he's grabbing your ass while hugging you like that

-Makes grabby hands and whines when you're standing with your back to him so he can touch it.

-"Baaaaaaaaaby :(" he turns into a child until you lean into his hands or sit on his lap it's so cute

-CONSTANTLY WANTS YOU TO SIT ON HIS LAP JESUS CHRIST YES

-Your friends know there's almost a 99% chance you're sitting on his lap when you're together

-Sirius and Remus constantly mumbling shit like "that lucky bastard" all moody n shit <3

-Don't get me wrong!! They're super respectful of you guys' relationship and would never say or do anything creepy

-They're just jealous and honestly, can we blame them?

-HE BITES IT IN A PLAYFUL SILLY LITTLE WAY WHEN YOURE CUDDLING<3333

-So basically yeah he’s smitten about it

-Can’t physically go a day without touching/patting/caressing your ass <3

[cherry-pop-elf]

George Weasley Sexcanons

Because im extremely sick, so im bored

Warnings? Sex sex sex and more sex. Along with some submissive Georgie baby~

What gets his engine going

He’s more of the submissive type. Your definition of a service top. He loves to make sure his partner is feeling so good. Their comfort comes, heh, first before anything else. Mans has 100% just gotten off from eating out/rimming/sucking off

He’s….Hes got mommy issues. As much as we love Molly, you can not deny she was rather verbally abusive. Not to mention having seven kids means you’ll Never have one on one properly. I won’t rant, but mans got a serious mommy kink. Doesn’t matter if you are a man, he’s calling you mommy!

Is a sucker for risk taking. He’s gonna try and eat you out at a quidditch game, jerk you off at the leaky cauldron, he’s gonna rail you in an alley way. He’s an adrenaline junkie, and probably wouldn’t be to shy at the idea of actually doing it infront of people. He likes the rush of it all

If you get a tattoo with his name, or some kind of indication you are his? Oh that’s going to make him feral. He doesn’t actually believe in owning and such, but there is something so enjoyable about it in fantasy. Kink doesn’t equal reality! ((And obviously I don’t need to clarify what is off the table))

Let me say this once, mans has a MAJOR Breeding Kink. Doesn’t matter if you can get pregnant. He’s going to find a way to fuck a baby into you. He’s a Weasley. They love to prove the impossible

Like I said about mommy kink, he is so gonna be a brat. It’s not a number one go to, that’s Fred, but he loves being a menace to society. If he’s not being a brat, you calling him a bad boy might make him cry. That’s why it’s healthy to communicate in the bed room!

Spank him. Spank him nice and good.

Lingerie lingerie lingerie

He might be a size queen, but you didn’t hear it from me 🤭

Oh he just loves doing it in his office. There is something so hot about it. To have you sit in his office, as he eats you out. How you would pin him on the desk, and pound him so hard it starts to rattle. To have you casually come in, wearing nothing at all, and crawling over all the paper work to get to him. If he’s having a bad day, sneak into his office and remind him he’s the boss

Don’t think you won’t be shared with Fred. They are magical twins. They share everything together.

Don’t be shy of your body hair. He likes his bitches natural. There’s also something so romantic to him about it. That you can just be your truest self around him, and not need to panic about your looks. Just your true self, and such

Speaking of natural self, he likes his bitches a little thicc. Blame his dad for liking em big. Nothing like some love handles to grab onto, or some ear warmers to keep him trapped in place. But most importantly? The cuddles

Expect to be of ‘use’ during busy hours at work. Like sucking him off while he does paper work, or being stress relief after a Karen comes into town

Boobs? Butt? Mans a thigh guy. He loves himself a partner with thick thighs, long legs, and some well pedicured feet. Yes. He’s a feet guy. Thigh highs in orange will make him cream alright

Expect to be his partner in trying new sex shop items

Speaking of that, don’t be scared to try new things with him. You never know. Maybe your weird kink could be the next hottest item the shop!

AFAB Partner Shenanigans

His favorite position with you would be the mating press. He just loves having your legs over his shoulders, and getting a front row seat at your begging face

He is going to be that type to fill you full of cum, and make you walk around with it

Sundresses baby

Peg him silly boo boo. He will ride that strap on until sunrise don’t even question it

Expect lots of cock warming. Especially when busy at work

Your tits are his now. His favorite thing to play with, when it isn’t your pussy. Even not in a sexual sense. You’ll just wake up with a hand on the tibbie

AMAB Partner Shenanigans

His favorite position is cowgirl. To have his hands on your chest, as he pants. Whimpering and moaning, as you move in and out of him. To have you spank him to move faster. Gets him all kinds of work up

He’s gonna be a shit head and sneak under tables a lot and have his fun with you

You will wake up to him dealing with your morning wood

He is going to sit on your cock when he is doing work. He will be a bastard and spin his hips

[rewritingcanon]

me watching a little girl in the single digits innocently explain to me that jk rowling is who she aspires to be when she grows up:

[kitty-tea]

The bad girl gets what she deserves

Read part 2 here!

(Link to masterlist)

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x fem!Reader

NSFW 18+ only! This is mostly filthy smut with some plot

A/N: Hi, I just had this random idea for the story pop up in my head out of nowhere about how the bad girl seduces the good boy. I thought I’d choose Cedric to write about since I haven’t seen a whole lot of fanfics about him. And since he’s already a Hufflepuff, I decided to make the reader a Slytherin, they’re my two favorite houses. This is really the filthiest one-shot I’ve ever written for now, I might write more I don’t know.

Summary: After Cedric finds a note in his bag, he makes it his mission to find out who sent it.

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings/tags: nsfw, minors DNI, smut, sexual content, porn with a hint of plot, oral sex, masturbation, rule breaking, 18+ only, p in v sex, orgasm denial, bathtub sex, nudity, reader is a bad girl, Cedric and reader are of age, Slytherin/Hufflepuff house rivalry, teasing, swearing

I probably missed some stuff, but this is what I was able to come up with for now.

Meet me in the Prefects’ bathroom after dinner.

-XOXO

There were many unanswered questions going through Cedric Diggory’s mind as he held the little note in his hand. He thought it had to be meant for someone else and it accidentally ended up in his possessions until he turned it over and there was a heart drawn around his name. He had never gotten a note of this nature in his life. He mostly stuck to hanging out with the students from his house, so it had to be one of them. A more broad and logical explanation was that it was just someone who knew the password. He concluded in his mind.

He had already come up with a list of names by the time he walked over to the Great Hall to join his friends for dinner.

The main question was, how did this person slip it into his school bag without him noticing? Of course. It was obvious. Cedric had Quidditch practice today. That’s how this person was able to put the note in his bag without him noticing.

“Hi Cedric!” One of the first year students in his house waved at him, smiling ear to ear. One of the things Cedric loved about being in Hufflepuff was how close the students from different years seemed to be compared to the other houses.

He discreetly put the note in his pocket and waved back at the younger boy. Scanning his eyes along the Hufflepuff table to catch if anyone was staring at him, he took a seat.

“How was practice today?” The younger student asked Cedric. “We all saw you out there. We all think you’re gonna win the next match!”

“Yeah go Cedric!” Another student hooted from a few seats down. He responded with a thumbs up.

“It was good.” He answered. He was about to dig into his plate when he caught what the first year said. This was his opportunity to get another clue about the identity of the person who wrote the note. “Wait. You were at practice? Did you see anyone going inside or coming out of the changing rooms besides the team?”

The student froze and then looked around in all directions as if someone was watching him. “No. I mean, not that it would be my business. We were just there to watch the team.” He laughed nervously.

Cedric thought there was something the kid wasn’t telling him, but he dismissed that thought. He was going to find out who sent the note eventually, prank or not.

“Hi Cedric.” The entire Hufflepuff table seemed to hold their breath as he heard a voice behind him. He saw the younger student’s eyes go wide. Cedric’s breath hitched in his throat as his eyes met yours. He felt his cheeks heat up as he realized his face was leveled with your chest with the way he was sitting. He knew he wasn’t the only one that noticed it as you smirked at him.

For most of his time at Hogwarts, Cedric had tried to stay out of the way of the Slytherins due to their reputation as bullies, but with you, he just couldn’t do it. Being in the same year and having the same preferences for school subjects, you had most of your classes with him.

The other kids warned him about being scared of you, so he felt nervous around you. There would be times where he’d catch you looking in his direction, and instead of looking away with a blush and a giggle like the other girls, he’d find himself taken aback by how you’d maintain eye contact and bat your lashes as if daring him to look away first.

“What are you doing here?” A student from your year asked you in a warning sort of way.

You rolled your eyes. “Can’t I just wish good luck to another team without being interrogated?”

“Why would you wish us good luck?” The same student frowned at you. “Our team is playing against yours. In case you forgot.”

“Well, it’s not against rules of friendly competition to wish good luck to the opponents. In case you forgot.” Cedric couldn’t stop the grin from popping out of his face at your wit.

“Anyways,” you said with a wave of your hand as if you got a minor inconvenience out of the way. “I came to wish Cedric good luck.”

“Me? Why me?” Cedric turned his whole body outside the bench so that his knees were almost touching you.

“Because you’re the Seeker and Captain. You’re a very important player.” You purred.

You leaned down and lightly placed your hands on his knees. If he thought you didn’t make him any more nervous, he was wrong. This was the first time he had the chance to see your face this close. He could feel his heart racing as his eyes involuntarily went to your lips.

He felt his breathing become shallower than it already was as you leaned into his ear. “I’ve seen the way your little friends look up to you. Not to put more pressure on you, but if I were them, I would want the best for my hero.”

“Th-Thanks?” Was all that could come out of his mouth. You leaned back away from his ear to take a look at his flushed face.

“Of course. Good luck. And see you later.” You winked and got up before leaving the Great Hall.

Did you just flirt with him? You had to be. You weren’t as shy and quiet as the girls in Hufflepuff. You were a Slytherin, but he could see how you embodied a bit of the traits from other houses too. You had the boldness of a Gryffindor, the wit of a Ravenclaw, and you were as hardworking as the Hufflepuffs even though you weren’t shy.

He’d seen you being flirty around the boys in your house, not that it led to anything serious. Sometimes, he wondered how your relationship would have been had you been sorted into the same house. You would’ve become good friends with him, Cedric was sure of it.

As you got older and started sharing more class with him, he noticed little things about you he never thought about. Like how when you would get into trouble with the other Prefects, you’d get into fights with them, but whenever Cedric would catch you breaking the rules, it was like you were a whole different person with the way you’d accept whatever punishment he had to give you with a smirk.

To have your attention be focused on him, had him feeling some type of way he never felt with any other girl who flirted with him. He thought you were one of the most beautiful girls in school, but your reputation for also being one of the most intimidating Slytherins was what set you apart from those other beautiful girls. In other words, he didn’t think he had a chance with you.

“Who cares what she thinks, Cedric. We’re gonna be the best team at our match!” One of his teammates exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air.

“Yeah, she’s just a big meanie.” Another first year boy said.

“Don’t worry guys. I won’t let you down.” Cedric patted him on the head and gave a reassuring smile.

—

Gripping the note inside his pocket, Cedric made his way past the other students around him, going off to the library to catch up on studying or to retire to their common rooms. He needed to find out the identity of the person who wrote the note. Had it not contained a heart with his name on it, he wouldn’t be as suspicious of someone asking to meet somewhere as private as the Prefects’ bathroom.

Cedric kept a grip on his wand with his other hand while he considered the possibility that it could just be a prank. He was wise enough to know how to handle himself.

His grip on his wand tightened as he stood in front of the door to the bathroom and muttered the password.

You were the one he should have suspected from the beginning, Cedric realized as his eyes met yours.

“Hi, Cedric. I see you got the note I sent you.” You greeted him, taking a step closer to him. He swallowed a lump in his throat as he took in your appearance. He took a seat on one of the benches next to the large bathtub. “And no, it’s not a prank.”

He couldn’t and wouldn’t stop himself from letting his eyes wander around your body, covered by nothing but a towel. Your hair was up in a messy bun and droplets of water still clung to your skin.

“But h-how did you-” Cedric couldn’t finish his sentence, so you finished it for him.

“How did I put the note in your bag? Easy. During Quidditch practice I snuck into the changing room, and your little first year friends saw me. Had to make them shut up. Don’t worry. I didn’t hurt them. How did I get in here? That was much easier. I asked the new fifth year Prefect, Malfoy, for the password in exchange for getting me to buy cigarettes and alcohol for him. He’s quite insufferable, really. Not all of us in Slytherin can stand him. Especially the older ones.”

“I know.” You said nonchalantly, pouting your lips. “I’m setting a bad example for the younger students. But wouldn’t you have done the same?” You stepped closer to him and untucked his tie from his sweater. You were standing between his legs, leaning towards him. He couldn’t stop inhaling your intoxicating scent as it overtook him, leaving him unable to answer.

“Oh that’s right.” You flicked your eyes towards him and smirked. “You’re a good boy. You wouldn’t give in. Are you gonna turn me in? For being somewhere I’m not supposed to be?”

“Why did you get me to come here then?” Cedric took a deep breath. You continued to fidget with his tie.

“Isn’t it obvious?” You gently tugged on the piece of fabric to the point of your noses almost touching. He held his breath as he saw you lick your lips.

Before you gave him time to answer, you whispered, “It’s because I want to fuck you.” He knew girls talked about him like that behind his back based on what his guy friends reported to him, but he had never had anyone say that sentence to his face.

He was shocked and taken aback by your boldness, but also turned on. The erection that had been forming in his trousers throughout the entire conversation only confirmed it.

The fact that you weren’t even touching his skin made him whimper.

“What’s wrong, Cutie?” That nickname you used unlocked a part of Cedric that wanted to rip that flimsy towel off your body and plant his lips onto every inch of your skin until you were the one who was left speechless. But he could only do so much as stay still as you led the interaction.

“You’re acting like those other shy girls who flirt with you. Speaking of other girls, sorry if I’m not the one you were expecting. I’ll go get dressed.” You said, getting up to turn around.

“No! No!” Cedric didn’t want you to leave him.

You raised your eyebrows.

“Don’t get dressed!” He pleaded. “I mean… it’s alright, you can do what you want to, you don’t have to-”

“Sure. I won’t get dressed.” You smiled coyly.

“Sorry.” He scratched the back of his neck. “You could leave if you want. I’ll just be…” he stood up.

“But you know I don’t actually want to leave.” You turned and slid your hands down his chest. He could feel how fast his heart was pounding against your palm through the layers of fabric.

“Did you really mean what you said?” Cedric asked, referring to your bold statement from earlier.

“That I want to fuck you?” You slid your palms down further along his stomach until your fingertips lightly grazed the bulge in his trousers. He groaned at the contact.

“Have you got any idea how often I touch myself while thinking about you? Wanna know where in the school I’ve touched myself?”

Cedric groaned louder as he felt your palm squeeze him a little more firmly.

“I’d love to be able to hump my mattress and pillows more often, but I share a dorm with way too many people for my taste.” You didn’t stop palming his erection. “When I know everyone else is asleep, I’ll sneak into the common room, take a seat on the couch, and spread my legs. I can’t tell you how many times I made myself cum on the same spot shared by so many people. Too bad I had to stop after I was almost caught by that brat, Malfoy.”

“You alright?” You looked up into Cedric’s eyes. No, he was not alright because you stopped your movements. He didn’t want you to stop.

“Keep going.” He commanded.

You smirked as your eyes skimmed from his flustered expression to where your hand currently rested.

“I had to get more creative.” You continued. “I like using the broom closet after classes, too. Oh yeah, and the library. It’s so easy to find a quiet place in the corner. Luckily Madam Pince never checks on me because she thinks I’m so good at being quiet. Lately, I’ve been taking longer showers and you can guess why. You’re a smart boy.” He didn’t need to ask you to know that it was because of him.

“How long does it take?” Cedric was getting curious.

“It’s different every time. Last night, I made myself cum in the shower five times in thirty minutes. Oh, the things you do to a girl without even realizing it.”

He almost choked on his spit.

“What? I’m not shy about it.” You started to unbuckle his belt.

“One of my favorite things to do to myself in the shower is let the water run along my body while I let the soap lather up on my tits. I thought about the things I’d let you do to them, like squeezing them, sucking on them. Fuck, that’d feel so good.”

“Just talking about it, it's making my pussy wetter than the shower.” In normal circumstances, he’d try to stop himself from imaging what your pussy would feel like on his fingers and his cock, but moments like that were far behind, and he didn’t give a damn.

“That’s right. You’re not the only one who’s turned on.” You admitted. You unzipped his fly, taking some of the constriction off of him. He didn’t bother holding back a whimper as you slipped your hand underneath the rest of the material and palmed him through his boxers.

“P-Please…” Cedric was at a loss for words again.

Letting go of him, you took a step back.

“Please, what?” You smirked. “Haven’t you got anything to say?” You were right, he was too flustered to form any sentences.

“Please make me feel good. Is that what you’re thinking?” You eyed his crotch and licked your lips. He nodded.

The both of you took a deep breath as you stepped towards him. You got up on your tiptoes and he lowered his neck. When your lips met, he cupped your cheeks with both hands and you planted yours against his chest.

Finally, after enduring your teasing for so long, he was able to give in.

Neither of you could not and did not want to hold back from your kiss. You let out a moan, and Cedric let his teeth graze along your bottom lip, which caused you to moan even louder.

In his hurried state, he’d already discarded his outer robe onto the bench. You tugged on his sweater, signaling him to take it off, which he did.

“Are you sure you want this?” Cedric asked.

It felt as if the air had been knocked out of him as you let your towel drop on the floor. If his face wasn’t already any more flushed, it was now.

You sat down on the same bench he was sitting on before. He was about to ask what you were doing when you placed your hands behind you for balance and spread your legs, giving him a full view of how wet your pussy was. “Is this enough to convince you that I do?” You asked.

“Fuck.” Cedric gasped and his eyes widened at the sight of your completely naked body. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Wow. I never thought I’d hear the good boy say a bad word.” You teased him.

He was admiring how the moonlight from the window made your eyes sparkle as you caught him gazing hungrily at your entire body from your breasts to your hips and thighs.

“You can touch them.” You held up your breasts and bounced them in your hands.

He reached his hand out to squeeze one of your breasts and gently graze his thumb along your nipple.

Cedric had barely touched you and you were already a panting mess in his hands. With his other hand, he mirrored the same thing he did to your other breast while you used one of your hands to trace your finger around your swollen clit.

The moment he caught onto what you were doing to yourself, he slowly got distracted enough to seize his movements, which made you stop as well.

“Let me turn on the water.” You said, gently prying his hands off your body.

“Wait-” he grabbed your hand. He couldn’t believe you had the audacity to leave him hanging after all the teasing you put him through.

“Believe me, after what I want to do to you, we’ll both be needing a bath.” You grinned mischievously. You turned to switch the faucet on.

“Does this mean you want to…” Cedric couldn’t get himself to say the words through his nervousness.

“We’ve got to do something while we wait for the water to fill up.” You said as you knelt down in front of him. “I wanna taste you, so bad, Cedric.” You ran your forefinger along the fabric of his boxers that was covering his bulge. “Don’t you think it would feel so good to have my lips wrapped around your cock? Don’t you want to make me scream and choke? See the bad girl shut up?” You had no idea he would’ve loved to see you do much more than choke on his cock. A part of him wanted to see that bad girl cry and break for him.

“Sure.” That’s all you needed to hear in order to get you to pull out his fully erect cock out of the confines of his boxers.

You gripped onto his thighs for support and licked from the bottom to the tip before sucking it between your lips.

Cedric wondered if you knew how gorgeous you looked with your pretty lips wrapped around his cock.

He threw out what very little self-control he had left as he grabbed the back of your head and pushed it further down onto his cock. He could feel the vibrations from you screaming around him. His breathing started to grow heavier as your head bobbed up and down faster.

“You look so beautiful like this!” He grunted. He was starting to get hot as he knew he was quickly getting close cumming. He discarded his school tie and started to unbutton his shirt.

“I’m gonna cum!” He gasped as he completely removed his shirt. That’s when you pulled your mouth away from him. He regretted saying that.

“No!” He grasped your jaw and forced you to look up. You stood up. You stared at each other as he gathered the saliva spilling down your chin with his thumb and ran it along your bottom lip. You used this as an opportunity to pull it between your lips and suck just as you did with his cock before you popped his thumb out of your mouth.

“The tub’s full, now.” You said, ignoring the extra protests that he threw at you.

Cedric watched as you climbed into the tub and switched the water off. He soon threw the rest of his clothes onto the bench and he followed you into the water that came up to your torso.

He saw the water droplets that clung to your breasts and made a move to lick them. He made a trail with his tongue from your collarbone to your nipple where he continued to lick and suck as you didn’t bother holding back a moan.

“Cedric, I want you to cum inside me!” He felt his boner poking your stomach at the sound of your whimpers.

You grabbed onto his shoulders and pushed him so that his back was to the edge of the tub. You let your lips hungrily devour each other’s. The feeling of your soft tits against his chest only made his desire to be inside you stronger.

He grabbed your thighs and hoisted them around his torso. You grabbed his cock in one hand, aiming it to where your entrance was while using your other hand to cling onto his shoulder to balance yourself.

He planted kisses along your neck and collarbone as you slowly sunk down onto him. You let out a string of curse words as you slowly moved up and down, your tits bouncing with you.

Besides the sounds of your bodies moving against each other, you loudly moaning, and the water splashing, it was dead silent in the room.

He grabbed both sides of your hips and began pounding into you faster and deeper. This made you scream even louder than before.

“Oh fuck, Cedric! Just like that! It feels so fucking good!”

He loved how unafraid you were to let yourself lose control in front of him.

“Cedric!” You sounded like you were sobbing.

“What is it, Sweetheart?” He rasped.

“I think I’m-fuck! Oh Cedric, fuck! It feels so… so good!” It was then that he knew you reached your orgasm. You continued screaming as you rode it out on his dick.

The feeling of your tight pussy pumping around him so vigorously in a repeated manner was what led up to him spilling himself inside you a minute later.

“Don’t stop! Keep going!” He ordered you.

“I fucking love how your cum feels inside me, Cedric!” You cried out.

He continued to hold onto you with him still inside you as he attempted to catch his breath and that’s when he pulled out. It quickly went back up as you softly dragged your nails along the goosebumps forming on the side of his neck. On the other side of his head, you planted equally as light kisses from his jaw to his earlobe. He had to check himself to see if this unreal feeling was what he was really experiencing as you started to nibble it.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you ever since the day I discovered how to pleasure myself.” You purred in his ear. “I don’t give a damn about the other boys I flirted with. It’s always been you, Cedric.”

At the mention of the other boys, he started to feel jealousy ignite in himself which was unusual for someone like him.

“Is that why you flirted with them in front of me?” He looked into your eyes for confirmation. “To make me jealous? To get me to notice you?”

“It worked.” You said. “I mean, I just got so bored of watching those girls talk about you and flirt with you I couldn’t take it anymore, so I thought I had to make you see how I felt. I shouldn’t have waited so long.”

He cupped your jaw and gently brought your lips together as soon as the both of you had calmed down. Your lips began to move along each other’s more frantically and it soon escalated into a make out session.

He quickly found himself getting addicted to the taste and feel of your plush lips which went so well with the lip balm you were wearing.

“What do you mean by waiting so long? How long exactly?” Cedric wanted to know more.

“Since our fifth year. When you became a Prefect and Captain of your Quidditch team.” You leaned your head into the crook of his neck. He absentmindedly stroked his knuckles along your bare shoulder.

“I’m just wondering, why not boys from your house’s team instead?”

You looked up into his eyes. “Because you’re so much better than them. Just because I’m in the same house as them doesn’t mean anything. They’re not as humble or as hard-working as you.”

“I don’t know what to say.” He blushed at your compliment. “Besides thank you, of course.”

You giggled.

[jackie4dinner]

“My Sirius fan cast is Ben barns 🗣️🗣️” “mines Conan grey 🗣️🗣️”

Mines myself. I AM SIRIUS.

Also face reveal ig

[chocolateremus]

Lover, you should've come over.

Pairings: Remus x AFAB!reader

Warning includes: I didn't edit this so it's lwk cringe 😭😭

Summary ! Remus runs into his sweet childhood best friend, but what would he do if she rejects and avoids him?

Masterlist

You smell him before you see him. Parchment, ink, coffee, and chocolate drift up your nose as you turn the corner to make your way to Divination, but you slam into a chest before you can make it any further down the hallway.

Remus looks down at you with a warm smile, and when he speaks, his voice goes straight to your stomach.

"Hello."

"uh hi..uh sorry.." You said, holding onto the books she had, with a slight smile.

He smiles down at you. One as sweet as chocolate.

"No need to be." He offers his hand to you. It feels strong, soft, and warm. When you take it and he pulls you to your feet, you stare at his wrist and notice a small bite mark there that he's still trying to hide. But you ignore it.

"My name's Remus."

"Hi.. I'm y/n."

"Nice to meet you. Your name is lovely."

He speaks with a gentle tone, and he smiles at you warmly. Despite the bite mark on his wrist that is attempting to be hidden under his robes.

"well uh..thanks..is your arm okay?"

He looks down at his wrist and then quickly looks back up at you, but not before you see his face fill with a sudden guilt. He quickly pulls his sleeve down to hide the bite mark, but he doesn't realize that you were able to see it.

He quickly composes himself and speaks again. "Oh yes. It's nothing, don't worry about it."

"yea..mhm..I guess i'll see you around.. Remus?"

emus is about to say goodbye to you when he looks at you and notices that there is something very troubling going on in your eyes. They seem a little bloodshot, like you've been up all night and just rolled out of bed. It also looks like there are tear marks on your cheeks.

"Are you alright?" He asks, sounding concerned.

"hm..yea."

He hesitates a moment, his face filled with compassion and kindness. "If something is wrong, can I assist you in any way?" He looks at you with deep hazel eyes. Despite only knowing you for a few seconds, he feels a deep connection with you, like there's a small part of him that recognizes you somehow.

"I..uh I have to go." You said, Remus definitely recognized you, but couldn't point out where.. he nods slowly. Something about you is definitely bothering him. He is usually much more outgoing with other students, but for some reason, he's feeling cautious around you. He seems to be struggling internally, as if something is keeping him from talking to you, or even being around you.

"Of course. Just tell me if you need anything, okay?"

You nod slowly and then turn around to leave, but instead of walking away, you look back at him over your shoulder. And at that moment, there seems to be a spark of recognition in his eyes.

You turned and walked off in a distance your friend caught up to you.

"Hey, y/n!" Your friend said, then, almost having a brain rush, digging deep into his memories. As you keep walking, the more Remus tries to recognize you. Something about you seems very familiar, and the more you walk away, the more he longs to be around you. Remus remembered who you were..that was your nickname he gave you, you were his childhood best friend..well not until when he was 6, he became a werewolf and bit you.

Shit. Your mom. Your mom refrained you from seeing him. Doing everything his her will to move away from him. A monster. And just then when you are about to make it too far away from Remus to ever see him again, the realization suddenly hits him. His eyes go wide as he remembers who you are. And once he remembers that you are his childhood best friend, he starts running after you.

But you made a pact, that you would never forget each other. Ever.

Remus finally reaches you and your friend. He takes a deep breathe and then speaks quietly to you. "Y/n?"

He looks at with his soulful hazel eyes, which are filled with remorse and sadness. Your face lights up, and he knows that you recognize him as well.

For a moment, both of you stand there silently before he pulls you into a hug, holding you tightly. "I've missed you. I'm so sorry for leaving you all those years ago."

"I'm sorry..?"

He looks up at you with remorse and sadness. "It's me. Remus. You used to call me Moony. It's me, Remus Lupin. You used To be my best friend until..."

He trails off and looks down at the ground, avoiding your gaze with shame. "Until I became a werewolf."

He looks up slowly and stares at you intensely. "I never forgot about you, El. It killed me to watch you grow up from afar."

"I..I don't know you."

He pauses for a moment, stunned by the words coming from your mouth. "It's me." He steps closer to you, putting his hands on your shoulders. "It's Remus," he says gently as if he thinks you simply aren't comprehending it. "We used to play together as kids. You called me Moony and I called you y/n/n. "

He reaches up to gently touch your cheek. "Don't you remember me, y/n?"

"I'm sorry but I think you got the wrong person." you chuckled awkwardly. Almost as if scared. You did remember him.. but..if your mom knew, she would make a big fuss all over again.

Remus pulls his hand back quickly and gives you a little bit of space, but he looks at you with confusion and desperation. "I know who you are. Don't lie to me."

He sees the tears form in your eyes, and as you try to stop them, he suddenly realizes why you're doing it. He leans in again slowly and looks at you earnestly.

"Why are you trying to pretend that you don't know me?"

"...What?"

He takes your hand in his, and he looks at you with understanding and compassion. "I know that you remember me."

Your eyes flicker with a small glint of recognition as you recall your years spent together as children. "I don't know why you're keeping this act, but it hurts my heart because I do remember you. And right now, all I want to do is be with you."

"Uhm.."

"Please."

"we can't."

"Why not?" He looks at you curiously as you pull your hand away from his.

"Do you think your mom will get angry again? I promise I won't bite you or hurt you ever again. You know me," Remus pleads, his heart begging you for just another chance.

"I..don't.. I can't.." You mumbled, frustrated. "I'm sorry."

Remus looks at you solemnly, feeling a deep sadness inside of him. "El, I know you still love me… so why can't we…"

"Because..I'm with someone else."

[slasherbvnnie]

Cinnamon and Cigarettes

It's 2023, and on your 18th birthday you received a special letter from a school known as Hogwarts University. A college exclusive to wizards and witches, teaching them how to hone and harness their wizarding abilities. On your first day there, you come across a few friends and foes.

Context: 18+ characters, modern day hogwarts au, hufflepuff reader

Word Count: 975

You sucked down a deep breath, the gentle tapping of your shoes hitting the tiles beneath you filling your ears as the world was muted behind you with every step. You had no idea why this was so nerve wracking, it was exciting all at the same time as well, it just confused you all together knowing the next few years of your life would be defined by this small action. You sat on the wooden chair, feeling it pop and creak into place as you sat. Your hands fiddled with the ends of your clothes as you felt the weight be placed upon your head, making you look up slightly. “Interesting…” you heard a voice murmur, continuing on as you swiped your tongue across your lips as you nervously awaited. “Yes…yes that fits well…Hufflepuff!” You heard the hat call out, tuning back in when you could hear cheering and clapping from one of the tables. You stood, making your way out of the chair and to the table, being greeted by one of the boys who stood by the table, holding his hand out to shake yours. “Cedric Diggory, house prefect, take a seat anywhere and make some new friends,” he said with a smile, you shook his hand and smiled. “Y/N L/N, thank you cedric,” you replied as you took a seat.

It was shortly after dinner when Mcgonagall announced that there was a game for the first years. It was a fun game they had planned, almost like a game of tag. Students were to cast a very simple spell on other students in different houses, each house either gaining or losing points passed on who was tagged and who was the tagger. She announced that whichever house won the game would be able to host the first party back for students as well as make requests for food for the day after. You had met other people in your house, like Hannah Abbott , Gregory Munslow and even the chaser for the quidditch team Heidi Macavoy. When time came to finally begin the game, you were greeted by other students you had met on the train ride. Although now in different houses, they were still friendly. “Would you like to compete together? We can all have a truce to not get each other,” one girl offered as you smiled, nodding your head. “You’ve got a deal,” you agreed, your small group taking off as the professors called the beginning of the games once the other years went back to their dorms.

You all ran through the halls assigned for the game, laughter and shouts filling the castle. You casted the game spell on a few, dodging the attempts at yourself easily. Not all the students were great with spells yet, which you were thankful for, as well as for those without good aim. You heard a cry from your friend group when you noticed one had been tagged, looking back to them as you spotted the girl who had casted them out. She was a slytherin girl from the looks of it, making note as you began to run once again. This time instead of aiming for the other houses, you instead aimed for slytherins only, casting them out whenever you spotted one.

After getting a handful of their house out, you were met with a slytherin boy making his way to you. He towered over you as he walked straight at you, you backed up, eventually being cornered as he approached you. “You’re the little puff who’s been getting my friends out, hm?” He asked, holding his wand to your face as you looked up to him. “Which of them was it,” he questioned, you were silent as you stared at him. “Which one was it,” he pressed on, you were stunned and pointed to the slytherin girl who had been watching with a smirk on her face. He turned to where your finger landed, moving his wand from your face and instead casting the spell on her, making her gasp in surprise. “There, your problems gone,” he said as he turned back to you. “Now why don’t you and your little friend group scurry off,” he said before noticing another girl who was in your group. “And you, wearing a slytherin uniform and not defending your house? It may be only a game but some of us won’t forget you didn’t help stand up for your house,” he sneered to your friend, a more threatening glare in his eyes as you looked over. “Lay off of her,” you said, he sighed as he turned back to you, smirking a bit. “Stay out of it little badger, I know more than enough to get back at you,” he said as you frowned. He looked back at your friend, threatening her with something else before you stepped up, as your friend began to grow more scared, something inside you overpowered your judgement and you swung at the taller. He was surprised and stepped back, holding his nose as a few of the others in his own group snickered. “Beaten by a Hufflepuff, Riddle,” one blonde laughed as the taller looked at you.

Instead of hitting back, he only chuckled as he pulled his hand away, revealing some blood running down his face. “You have a good swing,” he said as he backed away from your group. “Why don’t you come by the dungeons sometimes, we’ll send an owl with the password,” he hummed with a smirk as you scoffed. “As if I would want to be around barbarians,” you said, casting the game spell on him, making his eyes widen as he stared at you. “All my problems gone, right?” You mocked as he wiped at the blood on his face, shaking his head with a laugh as he walked off.

[flemuer]

I needddd inspo! If there’s any other suggestions I’m so open but these are my mains 🤭

[mandoatsea]

darling, dearest | prologue

pairing: regulus black x f!reader

rating: mature but don’t worry, it’s gonna get spicy

word count: 6k

warnings: angst, mentions of execution and murder, references to cults (sorry death eaters), forced marriage, some iffy coping mechanisms (nail picking, pain), enemies to lovers, divergence from canon (just a little bc the first wizarding war is such a bummer and james deserves a baby sister), friendship turmoil, some manipulation because sirius is desperate, albus dumbledore jumpscare, tiny baby sprinkles of wolfstar if you squint ... i think that’s it, but please let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: helloooo! i was shocked at how many people saw the sneak peek and let me know they were excited for the first chapter! welcome to the first installment of the dumpster fire that is my regulus black obsession. he deserved so much better, and i’m dedicated to giving him a happy ending. i decided to start with a prologue, as this one is more of setup to the main story. i took a little liberty with the court system and marriage because they’re not super detailed in the books as far as i know. i hope you enjoy, and join the taglist if you want to keep up!

⭒☆⭒

If you were asked what you thought about the end of the Wizarding War, you would have to say it all felt rather anticlimactic. One minute you were obsessively checking the radio for news of attacks and casting wards every hour, and the next – everything was quiet.

"It's quite eerie, isn't it?" James remarks from the end of the dining table, glasses crooked. His green cardigan hugs his shoulders – broad but thinner now after months of stress. His spitting image, Harry, is bouncing happily on his father's knee and chewing on his knuckles. You wince as drool hits the knee of James' slacks.

"It's lovely," Remus moans from the couch, an arm thrown over his eyes and his long legs crossed at the ankle. His dark gray cardigan practically swallows him as he blindly spins his wand between long fingers. "Only you could find an issue with the end of a war, Prongs."

You grin at him, fingertips tapping nervously at the grain in the wood. Your brother pouts at Remus and Harry seems to pick up on his disdain because he turns and frowns at his father until James grins at him cheerfully.  

James practically glowing as he carelessly wipes slobber from Harry's chin, declaring half-heartedly, “Don’t be a prat, Moony.” 

"Has anyone heard from him yet?" Lily asks as she glides into the room, her wand suspending four mugs of tea that trail after her. Her long red hair is tied back in a plait. The question makes you swallow nervously. Two of the mugs land in front of you and James, the other settling neatly on the floor next to Remus, and the final one settles against Lily’s palm.

"Nothing," James sighs, expression suddenly pinched as Lily settles in the chair next to him and tugs Harry into her lap in response to his grabbing fingers, tapping his nose with her finger and earning a delighted squeal. "The trial was supposed to end hours ago."

"No news is good news," you offer rather unhelpfully as your stomach continues to twist itself into knots, "maybe he took him to celebrate."

Silence hangs over the room. The chances that anyone is going to be celebrating tonight are dismally low.

Remus seems to pull himself from his dozing, sitting up on the couch and lifting his mug of tea cautiously to his lips and your fingers curl around your warm mug.

"I've cooled it, Moony," Lily calls with a soft smile, "it shouldn't be too hot." Remus smiles sheepishly in thanks over his mug, taking a healthy swallow. You focus on a rip at the bottom of his sleeve, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth and relishing the slight sting. 

More silence.

"It shouldn't be too bad," James says rather factually, though his voice is pinched with nerves. "He did help at the end–"

"James." Remus cuts him off quietly, his eyes serious. "Let's just see what happens." James sinks slightly in his seat, draping an arm over the back of his wife's chair.

You swallow, nausea beginning to stir in your gut. Remus is more knowledgeable about the Wizengamot than anyone you know, and his guarded expression leaves you feeling sick.

"Poor Sirius," Lily's normally cheerful voice is pained and Harry has dozed off against her neck, "I hope it's not too–"

The silence is broken as someone apparates into the living room with a sharp crack.

Sirius stands in the middle of the living room, hunched slightly at the waist as though he’s about to be sick. Your heart sinks like stone. Remus and James stand and Remus crosses the short distance as Sirius' knees appear to buckle. Remus gathers him in a firm hug and you stare in disbelief as Sirius hugs him desperately.

Sirius Black's usually amused expression is twisted into one of profound grief. His black robes are rumpled and his hands shake as they twist in the fabric covering Remus' back. Purple smudges of exhaustion from the war are nearly black now and his curls have gone limp and frizzy – most likely because he's been tugging at them all day.

"Sirius," James says worriedly as Remus guides him to the couch, and he crosses over to his friend, "what's happened?" Remus sits next to Sirius, his brow furrowed and his lips pursed in concern.

Both you and Lily watch worriedly as Sirius swallows a few times. His shaking fingers worry at the fraying hem of his robes.

Voice wrecked, his voice is barely a croak as he announces, "He's getting Kissed."

You suck in a gasp of disbelief. It feels like someone has wrapped a hand around your lungs and squeezed as tightly as they can. Lily's slender fingers press against her mouth, her green eyes are suddenly shiny under the light of the dining room.

Remus stares at Sirius blankly, though you can see that his knuckles are white where they're gripping the edge of the couch cushion. You watch as your brother merely shakes his head.

"That's not possible," he says, voice hollow, "he... he was the one who destroyed–“

"James," you say firmly, "stop." Sirius has begun to rub frantically at his eyes. You’re not sure how you make it from the dining room table to kneeling in front of Sirius, but you do. Your hands wrap around his wrists and pull his hands from his eyes – his skin is clammy and cool. 

Sirius whimpers quietly, brown eyes red and full of tears. He looks like he's going to be sick, his light complexion washed even paler. Your throat squeezes tightly and you lace your fingers with his, giving him a gentle squeeze as James rests a shaking hand on his shoulder.

"It's my fault," Sirius chokes, and you shake your head immediately, his figure wobbling as your eyes sting with tears, "I should have never left him in that fucking house."   

You’ve never heard the entire story of the night Sirius fled Black Manor and ended up shivering on their doorstep, stinking of Dark magic, his eye bruised, begging for James. The guilt he harbors over that night is something he rarely shares with anyone. All you know is that leaving his baby brother was something Sirius never fully recovered from.

Terror strikes you now. You’ve seen what happens when Sirius closes up, locking everyone out and weathering his emotional storms all alone. Maybe it's a skill he learned growing up – the ability to throw up walls and barricade himself deep in his subconscious. The last time – when he'd found out about the most recent legion of Death Eaters and their Dark Marks – he didn’t leave his room for days.

He’d refused to talk to anyone, even Remus.

"It's not your fault," is all you can tell him, "it's not, Sirius."

Don't shut me out, you think, squeezing his hands as he shudders, please, let me help you.

You love Sirius the way you love James – deep, undying love. Regardless of the endless pranks and infuriating overprotection, he's one of the most important people in her life. The sight of him so devastated has you breathless – floundering for anything that might stop the course he’s on.

"He took the Mark when he was sixteen!" The words break as Sirius spits them furiously. "He was a fucking child!" His head tips forward as a sob splits loose from his chest.

"We'll fix it, Sirius," Remus says quietly, "surely there has to be something we can do." He locks eyes with you as a tear makes its way down your cheek.

"The end of the week," Sirius whispers, "they're going to kill him at the end of the week with all those bloody murderers." You brush a limp curl behind his ear before James pulls him into one of his tight, nearly suffocating hugs. Sirius’ panicked heaving is muffled against James’ shoulder. 

It takes an hour and a vial of Dreamless Sleep to finally get Sirius to bed, and you lean against the wall outside of his bedroom, waiting for Remus to reappear. The door opens slowly and Remus emerges, brow furrowed as he shuts the door as gently as possible.

"Is he alright?" You ask him. Remus rubs an anxious hand along the back of his neck, his sleeve pooling at his elbow. Thin, pale scars along his forearm shimmer slightly before he tugs the sleeve back to its rightful place and his arm falls back to his side. 

"No," he sighs heavily, hand closing on your upper arm, pulling you into his chest, "no, he's not." You hug him tightly, fingers buried in the soft fabric of his robes. Your eyes sting and you press your nose to his shoulder, inhaling the smell of clean cotton and mint.

"There has to be something we can do," you whisper.

Remus knows the ins and outs of the Wizengamot like the back of his hand. After applying as an Auror, he’d been questioned for ages – hours in front of the members trying to convince them that he was still fit for training despite his “affliction.” He had practically lived at the Ministry for months.

"I'll stop by tomorrow and talk to Doris," Remus remarks quietly against your hair, referencing the advocate that had been assigned to his case, "maybe there's some way we can get him out in a few years. Sometimes it's just a matter of showing them what they want to see. I doubt he had a third-party advocate." You nod and the door to James and Lily's room opens cautiously.

"Is he asleep?" Lily asks, stepping out into the hallway as you and Remus step apart.

"Passed out," Remus tells her, James stepping into the hallway after his wife. "He didn't stop shaking for a good ten minutes, but I think the potion finally kicked in."

"Merlin," James' voice is crushed as he leans against the wall, "hasn't he been through enough already?"

"He's bound to feel some guilt," Lily states factually, "he probably thinks he would have gotten the Mark instead if he'd stayed."

"Of course he thinks that," Remus says, voice tinged with rare anger, volume raising, “that’s what his parents made him believe before he left.”

You could wake him, you realize rather suddenly, and place your hand on Remus' arm to quiet him, earning an exhausted sigh. The last thing you need is for Sirius to hear you confirming his worst fears. Nibbling anxiously at your thumbnail you vaguely recall a few books in the manor's library about Azkaban and the Dementor's Kiss – a rather morbid fascination of your father’s for a few months at the beginning of the War.

"Remus is going to The Ministry tomorrow," you announce quietly to James and Lily, "I'm going to do some research of my own. Maybe we can find ... a reason for an appeal, or a loophole. There has to be something. He helped The Order, it should count for something." James seems to perk up at the idea and Lily smiles fondly at you.

"I'll go with Remus."

"No." You and Remus say simultaneously, earning a shocked and disbelieving pout from James.

"Someone has to stay with him, Prongs," Remus says pleadingly, "I don't know what he'll do if we leave him alone. He needs a Calming Draught and about a hundred cups of tea. Please stay with him."

Almost immediately James sags, bobbing his head of dark curls once in understanding. Lily slides a hand up his back, rubbing comforting circles between his shoulder blades. 

“We should all get some sleep,” she announces and you nod immediately, stretching your arms above your head with a groan, muscles stretching taunt in your shoulders, “we can worry about all of this in the morning.” 

“Alright,” Remus agrees, slumping as though someone has cut the string holding him up, “I’m going to crash on the couch.” 

Normally you would argue, protesting about his back, but your attention is almost solely on the books. By the time you all go your separate ways, you’re so absorbed in which titles to pull first that your feet practically carry you to the library – you stay there until the sun creeps over the horizon and your hand aches from its grip on your quill. 

⭒☆⭒

James catches you on your fourth trip to the library in as many days. You and Remus have barely spoken, ships in the night as he leaves for the Ministry and doesn’t return until late. Sirius has spent days pacing the living room, eyes cloudy with exhaustion, or passed out on the couch after another Calming Draught. Much to your frustration, none of the books have offered any useful information.

“Moony and Padfoot are in the study,” your brother tells you, “it seems important.” Hope flares in your chest and you nod hurriedly. 

“Yeah, alright,” you say, already turning back around to head to the study, “are you coming?” 

“I’ve got to drop off Harry,” James says with a shake of his head, “mum and dad have been dying to see him. I’ll be back in a bit.” 

“Sure,” you call, already heading down the hall to the study, “tell them I miss them, please.” 

“Sure, love.” 

 Rushing down the hall lands you in front of the study rather quickly. You knock twice before swinging the door open. Remus and Sirius are talking in hushed, tense voices at the large table in front of the fireplace. The side of Sirius’ face is illuminated with firelight, reflecting his nearly manic expression. His eyes are wide and pleading as Remus stares at him with a disappointed expression, shaking his head in disapproval every few seconds. His normally bruised under-eyes are even darker with exhaustion.

“When did you get back?” You call in greeting, hesitant to interrupt their tense discussion. Remus’ head lifts immediately, softening at the sight of you. A pleased grin lifts the corner of his mouth, pulling a very faint scar on his cheek tight. Sirius’ throat bobs before he turns to look at you as well. 

“Hi, darling,” Remus greets, “I only just arrived. I’ve been with Doris all night.” You make your way across the study to the table, squeezing Sirius’ shoulder as you settle at the table. 

“You must be exhausted,” you remark sympathetically, worrying welling as you take in Remus’ drawn expression, “are you alright?” 

“Fine, fine,” he brushes you off, “I’ll head home in a bit.” 

“Did Doris tell you anything helpful?” 

Your question seems to land like a bomb. 

Remus’ lips press in a thin line and Sirius turns to look at you, his expression open and full of hope. He looks so young that it takes your breath away. 

“Remus talked to Albus Dumbledore,” he tells you, “he said–” 

“Sirius.” Remus snips, his gaze cool. “Don’t.” Sirius deflates slightly at the reprimand but appears to steel himself before looking at you again. 

Sirius' voice has taken on a pleading quality when he says your name, his dark brown eyes brimming with sorrow, "Darling, you know–" his voice breaks and you suck in a breath. "You know I would never ask you to do this if I had a choice."

“Ask me to do what?” Your eyes flicker between them. 

"The Wizengamot would be inclined to pass down a more lenient sentence," Remus informs you quietly, "if it could be proven that he had a motive to help The Order." Disdain colors his tone.

"Motive." You parrot blankly. Your mind is swimming. The Wizengamot has been in disarray since the start of the war and lately, they seem to be doing all they can to move cases through the court as rapidly as possible. You’ve heard a few previous life sentences cut down to a few years in Azkaban or house arrest when new information is presented. An unsettled feeling has begun to churn in your gut as Sirius worries the edge of his sleeve between his long fingers.

"Remus thinks maybe if he had been in a relationship with someone in The Order, people would more easily believe he destroyed the locket." Sirius' voice is hopeful. "Helping The Order would get him a few years of house arrest, they probably wouldn't even hold him in Azkaban."

You shake your head, brow furrowing. You can't remember any relationships other than James and Lily throughout the entirety of the war. Maybe Frank and Alice Longbottom, but you hadn't been particularly invested in romantic drama – no one was. It was too much energy to waste when everyone was exhausted by stress and grief.

"Who was he with?" You ask, locking eyes with Remus. His expression is pinched, hair falling over his right eye, making him look boyish and haughty. "I don't remember him even speaking to anyone, but maybe if we can find some witnesses–"

"He wasn't seeing anyone," Remus says quietly, "no one in The Order would have wanted to touch a blood purist anyway." There's a bite in his voice that earns him a sharp glare from Sirius, and you feel dread crawl its way up your throat.

"I don't understand." You confess tightly. "Why are you even exploring that as an option?"

"It's the only option," Sirius says sharply, "there's nothing else we can do. This is the only way we can–"

"I still don't understand why–"

"I'm asking you–" Sirius' voice is shaky and he lifts his brown eyes to yours, "to marry him."

Static buzzes in your ears, quietly and then louder as the seconds tick by. Remus grimaces at his hands, thumb pressed against the pale scar that runs along his thumb and disappears under his sleeve. The world feels faintly tilted, and you shake your head in an attempt to rebalance yourself.

The second the statement leaves Sirius' mouth, you know you’ll do it. It’s an absent, emotionless conclusion. Anything Sirius asks of you, you'll do – because you love him. You want his trust, and to earn that trust you’ll do whatever he needs. Anything to keep him out of the unreachable place he flees to in times of grief. Losing his brother would kill him, and if you refuse he'll never forgive you – something you can't risk.

You come to the additional deduction, as you look at him, that he knows all of this. The request doesn't come from a place of clouded or misguided desperation – the look in his eye is calculating rather than manic. You realize, suddenly, that he has already added up the cost of this request and the consequences it will have on your relationship.

He just doesn't care.

You stare at him for a few more seconds in suffocating silence.

"You're asking me to marry your brother." You confirm quietly. Sirius' expression falters for a moment before he tips his chin up, emotions shuttered.

"It's the only way they'll let him out." He tells you, his voice flat. An ache opens up in your chest and you have the fleeting thought that you’re not going to recover from this for a long, long time. "I don't have any other options."

"Don't decide now. This is..." Remus starts to plead with you, openly devastated. "It's an impossible choice you have. Please, for me, sleep on it–"

"I'll do it." You interrupt him, earning you a disbelieving stare. "Assuming he agrees, I'll do it." You look at Sirius sharply. "You already knew that though, didn't you?"

The only response you get is the twitch of his jaw, his eyes falling to the table. Very suddenly, emotion wells in your throat and behind your eyes – suffocating in its intensity. In a panic, you stand from the table and make for the door.

"I'm sorry," Sirius calls out to you as you reach for the doorknob, "I hope one day you'll forgive me."

The only response you give is the violent bang of the door shutting behind you.

⭒☆⭒

The wait to leave for The Ministry is passed in silence.

James' knuckles are white and his grip on your hand borders on painful. His jaw clenches furiously as he stares at the fireplace, flames flickering in his blank expression. It feels as though you’ve gone numb – unable to even summon the energy to soothe your brother. Your gaze is locked blankly on your free hand, throat tight with anxiety and dread. 

"You don't have to do this," James whispers furiously, abruptly abandoning his stewing to stare at you, "I can't believe he asked you to–"

"James." You tell him quietly. "It's fine."

"It's not fine!" He continues to whisper, turning to you fully now. "The bond is forever. It's an Unbreakable Vow. He's a fucking Death Eater. He's a blood purist."

"If you knew," you ask flatly, "that you could do something to save my life, would you?" You turn your head and meet his eyes. Surprise flickers on your brother's face before his lips press in a thin line. "Would you?" 

"Of course, I would. I would do anything." James says, the words hushed, "But–"

"I would too." You tell him, squeezing his hand. "For you or Sirius, I would do anything." Your lips quirk in a wry smile and you return your gaze to your fingers. "It's just my luck that I have to."

James doesn't seem to know how to respond to that particular conclusion, and he sinks back in his seat – squeezing your hand.

Marrying a Death Eater was, without a doubt, not part of your plan. You can't say you ever really had an image of whoever would be on the other side of the bond – but a murdering blood purist was certainly not on the table. Faintly, you recognize that it is all sort of funny. You’ve spent the last few years obsessing over how to dismantle Voldemort and his followers, only for you to marry one of them.

The urge to laugh evaporates quickly when you realize the life you wanted has gone up in flames. Your parents have always set the marriage standard since you were little. Fleamont and Euphemia have been soulmates since their first year of Hogwarts and they've never wavered in their adoration for one another – even when raising two children and through a devastating war. When James and Lily got married, it only further cemented your surety that one day it would happen for you. You believed that everyone in your family was just lucky with love.

The irony is enough to make you faint.

A light knock on the doorframe pulls you from your thoughts – which is quite fortunate, you think, as an embarrassing set of tears have begun to make their way down your face. Rapidly, you pull your hand from James' and wipe your eyes, cheeks burning from the fabric of your robes. Remus steps into the living room, gifting you with a soft smile.

"Alright?" He asks, with his natural way of conveying that he already knows. You fist your robes, nodding and giving him a faint smile. "I think we're about ready to leave." All you can do is nod again, and all at once, the room feels like it's rapidly losing oxygen. Remus seems to sense your spike in anxiety and he pads across the carpeted floor to crouch in front of you – wincing as his back pops.

"It won't be too bad, darling," he says, taking your hand and squeezing gently, "they won't make you take any Veritaserum or anything frightening. I think they all want this case to be over rather quickly, and no one wants to upset The Order." You nod, tongue feeling thick in your mouth. "They'll ask you a few questions, reach a verdict, and then we can go home."

"Will he–" your voice cracks and James' hand settles on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, "will he be there?"

"Probably," Remus tells you honestly, and you take the tip of your tongue between your teeth. "He'll be sitting in the back most likely, and probably surrounded by Aurors. He won't be anything to worry about."

That's rather nice to hear, you think drily, seeing as I'm marrying him tomorrow.

Remus glances at his watch, lips pressing together in a flat line. Your anxiety begins to climb.

"We should go," Remus says quietly, and James squeezes your shoulder again before standing and helping you up off the couch. Remus retrieves a small pouch from his pocket, making his way to the fireplace as he takes a small pinch of powder between his fingers. Tossing the tiny amount of powder, the flame roars as it turns emerald green. Remus turns and offers another quick smile before he steps into the flames and disappears with a whoosh. 

You’re next, staring at the green flames with burning eyes until James drops your hand and nudges you forward. You inhale deeply, squeezing your eyes shut before stepping into the flames. The room blurs around you before you appear rather suddenly at the entrance to the Ministry. Remus is standing at the edge of the fireplace, arm out for you to take as you step out and onto the marble floor. James appears with a gust of air behind you and stumbles out of the fireplace with a cough, brushing soot from his shoulder. 

“Merlin, I hate that,” he mutters, coming to stand beside you. 

Wizards in all colors and styles of robes bustle past you, some alone and some in groups. A few carry briefcases and some wear heels that click sharply on the immaculate marble floor. Chatter bounces off the walls of dark brick that tower over your head and you marvel at the stunning statues lined down the enormous hall – a variety of glimmering witches, wizards, centaurs, and countless others. Only Remus' hand on the small of your back pulls you from your admiration and rather quickly back to reality.

"The courtroom is just a few halls down," he explains as the three of you enter the throng of movement and make your way through the Ministry, "we're just a bit early." Sweat begins to bead on your forehead and your robes feel suffocating, the fabric clinging to your arms and chest. You fight the urge to place a hand at your throat to ensure you’re still breathing as Remus continues his quick explanation. "There will be a few formalities, just some legal rubbish. You’ll give your testimony, he’ll affirm it, and then they’ll reach a verdict."

Two large wooden doors come into view, large ornate letters reading WIZENGAMOT. It would all come across as incredibly posh if you weren't on the verge of a panic attack. Remus comes to a halt a few feet away from the doors and turns to you.

"Alright?" Remus asks you, the words heavy with concern. He reaches for you, a cool palm settling on the side of your neck. The gesture is grounding. His hazel eyes are full of comfort. You manage a weak smile, nodding just once, and Remus nods back before turning to the doors. His wand raises, and with a slight flick of his wrist, the large oak doors creak open.

The courtroom is quiet, save for the low murmurs from members of the court. All at once, you feel the weight of several pairs of eyes on you. Without thinking, you cast your eyes up toward the court. 

The unsettling blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore are the first you catch, plum robes stark against his long, white beard and pale skin. His stare is curious, almost amused, but deeply unsettling. You clench your jaw, pulling your gaze away as you follow Remus to the bench. Sirius is already sitting, his posture rigid and his hair pulled back in a low bun. Briefly, his brown eyes meet yours before they flicker away. Your heart gives a pitiful, wrenching throb before you swallow it down and settle in your seat.

The minutes pass in agonizing silence. Your nerves leave you to pick at your nails, avoiding the harsh stares by keeping your focus on your lap. The cuticle of your thumb begins to bleed and you bring it to your mouth with a curse, nausea swarming as the metallic taste fills your mouth. The heavy wooden doors continue to open and shut with heavy slams. Occasionally, you accidentally meet the chilling gaze of one of the members. Every glance is welling with pity or disdain. 

You’re not sure which is worse. 

Dumbledore's clear, sharp voice startles you as it breaks the low mumble of noise. “All rise, for the opening remarks.” 

Your knees wobble as you stand and you grip the back of the bench in front of you to keep yourself steady. The remarks pass in a blur, and at some point you return to the bench, hands anxiously smoothing down your thighs. A lot of jargon you don’t understand, a summary of the charges, and a quick introduction of the appeal. Relational motive is the term they seem to prefer when referring to the appeal. You fight the hysterical urge to snort. Finally, the speech comes to an end as Dumbledore clears his throat. 

“Will the accused be brought forward for the court?” 

Heavy, black doors, that you’ve somehow missed, creak at the far end of the courtroom. Sirius straightens, his fingers clenched into fists. The low hum of muttering fills the court again. Slowly, the doors grate against their hinges until they shudder to a stop, revealing a dark hallway. 

Two tall, serious-looking Aurors step out onto the marble floor. One is taller than the other, both in the dark robes of their profession. Their wands are drawn, but relaxed. Your fingertips press into your thighs, relishing in the grounding sting.

Behind the Aurors, a tall, lean figure makes his way to the center of the room. Black, shaggy curls are limp and greasy, his head bowed and hiding his face. Broad shoulders make clear impressions against the gray uniform, the bones far too defined. Sirius lurches forward in concern as the figure’s steps falter – almost as if he wasn’t sure his legs would hold him for a moment.

Despite his bedraggled appearance, there’s a certain aristocratic air to him. It seems to be a piece of his very essence. Long, elegant fingers are clasped together tightly at his waist, silver restraints clasped around his wrists, linking them together. Two more Aurors emerge behind him, the doors swaying before slamming shut. 

Your fingernails continue to dig into your thigh.  

Dumbledore cuts through the murmuring as he announces, “The appeal trial will begin as soon as the accused is seated.”

The murmurs crescendo.

One of the Aurors mutters something to the man handcuffed in the middle of the room, his head tipping slightly as they speak to him in a low voice. Two of the wizards make their way to the chair in the center of the room, standing on either side. The Auror speaking to him seems to inform him of something upsetting – his knuckles white as his fingers clench, shoulders pulling up to his ears. 

He lifts his head, light hitting his face, and a pit of dread opens in your stomach as you meet the flat, dark gaze of Regulus Black. 

⭒☆⭒

taglist: @coffeeaddictednymph @wbellab @houseofblackbaby @ainasadge

[rainydayathogwarts]

hi please could i request something with ron where he has a seggs dream about you and wakes up h3rd with you cuddling him. thank you <3

So it seems I wasn't lying and I really am in my ron era. But who am I to complaint honestly.

Warnings: sexually explicit, smut, fluff in the end kind of, embarrassed ron. creations of the dirty teen boy mind, semi public sex. reader described as having long hair in dream 0.9k words

Ron laid flat on his back as your naked, sweaty body bounced up and down on his hard cock. You shone with sweat and your head was thrown back, letting your long hair perfectly run down your back in flawless ripples. Your tits bounced up with every move you made, and Ron reached up to squeeze them with both his hands. Both of you moaned in pleasure when Ron's cock hit your g-spot, causing your pussy to squeeze tightly around his thick length.

You brought both your hands down onto your boyfriend's abdomen, where you felt his muscles flex under his skin, and he let out a whimper, bringing both his hands up to grip your hips tight enough to leave marks.

You sped up your pace and Ron dug his head deep into the pillow behind him, and you felt his nails dig into your skin. His hips jerked up into yours frantically and just as he was about to let his load out into you - his eyes fluttered open.

Ron's arms were wrapped tightly around your waist, and your body was pressed against his in a spooning position. Ron immediately groaned in disappointment and discomfort when he realised that it was all a dream and that he was still hard as a rock. He unwraps his arms from your waist and tries wiggling away from you to create space between you, but you instantly flip around onto your stomach, throwing a leg over Ron's hip, while cuddling deeper into his chest.

He suppresses a moan, because despite the illusion of privacy you got from the curtains pulled around Ron's four poster bed, his four other dorm mates were probably still in their respectful beds, sleeping. Ron froze. He had no idea what to do from there. His mind races while he tries to make up his mind; should he go to the bathroom and get himself off or take care of himself right next to you. He didn't think twice, reaching into his sweatpants to free his hard-on.

Once he's shimmied his sweatpants and briefs down his thighs, he starts to relieve himself. He groans and bring his knuckles between his teeth as he tries to control his slow movements, intently staring at the way your legs are slightly spread for him. Your legs and panties are exposed, the t-shirt you borrowed from Ron riding all the way up past your hips, allowing Ron a perfect view of your panty-clad cunt. His movements start to speed up, but he goes still as soon as soon as he hears a quiet "Ron?"

Your eyes are fluttering open, and your head is tilted at just the right angle that you get a perfect view of his hand tightly wrapped around his leaking cock. You blink a couple of times, allowing yourself to adjust to the rather sudden change of sleeping, to seeing your boyfriend jerking off. You look up with raised eyebrows at your boyfriend's face, which has suddenly gone all red, and can't help but giggle slightly.

You reach down to replace his hand and mutter to him "Here, let me take care of you", and he does. The hand previously on his cock reaches up under his your shirt to grip your waist and his second arm wraps around your shoulder, pulling you impossibly closer to him as if it would suppress him moans. Ron bites his lip and throws his head back, grunting quietly and you put a hand on his abdomen as if it would help, but it only causes Ron to desperately whine.

"Ron." You say again, but only this time it's in a warning tone, and Ron tries stifling the noises he makes by biting your shoulder. You gasp quietly and increase the pace on Ron's dick. A harsh tug on your hair makes you look up at him only for Ron to slam his lips onto yours. You feel the muscles in his lower stomach contracting which never fail to tell you he's close and bring that hand down to focus on his red tip. This has his hips frantically humping up into your hand as he releases onto the sheets and pretty much everywhere else.

Once he's ridden out his orgasm and is safe from releasing any other inappropriate sounds, he breaks the kiss. He's red in the face and his chest heaves up and down as he tries to catch his breath, but a shy smile still finds itself on his face, and he tries to hide his embarrassment by burying his face into your chest. You giggle, both your hands starting to play with his ginger hair, the unspoken question floating in the air.

"I had a dream." He finally admits and you look down at him, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead. His arms wrap around your torso once more and he rolls onto his stomach, and you move so he's now resting between your legs, his head laying on your stomach as you play with his hair. "Well you might just have to have those more often"

"No you won't!" A voice interrupts, which you recognise as Harry's, essentially ruining the moment. Ron's face flushes again and he groans, even as you laugh in shock.

[cursedmoon-doll13]

Some Kind Of Stranger.

(Sirius x Reader)

Cw: Angst, Smut, Dub/Noncon. Afab reader. Prisoner (also falsely accused) reader and they are having a very bad time™️ Fingering, Unprotected Sex, Comfort Sex in a very uncomfortable place.

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Condemned to rot in Azkaban, you find yourself thrown into a cell already inhabited by a particularly infamous wizard. Perhaps you can stave off the torment together…

Dividers by @/saradika

Your life is forfeit.

Until now, the threat of death never seemed real. Not when you were seized by the officials and dragged before the ministry, not when those cold, sneering faces looked down upon you and sentenced you to a life in Azkaban for a crime you didn’t commit. It was a farce, a bad practical joke. It couldn’t be real.

Perhaps you were simply enduring some nightmare; this was only a dream, you’d soon find your coworker, Mildred, shaking you vigorously - wake up, you lazy git! Do you even know what bloody time it is? - And then, you’d wipe the crust from your eyes, pull on your Honeydukes apron and go back to peddling sugar to those titchy new Hogwarts kids, who shrink more and more each year.

No. It’s now that it feels real. Now, you're forced behind rusty iron bars, stranded in the middle of the ocean, trapped forever. All you can hear is the crying and moaning of the other prisoners, who sob and bay like animals. You’re still frozen in shock.

Then, the panic sets in. Sinking and emptying, like a vast hole has opened up in your stomach. But you can’t even scream anymore; it dies in your throat like a broken whistle. Instead you just cry, sliding down to the filthy floor in a pathetic heap. No matter how you plug your ears, the older inmates howl louder, joining in a cacophony that almost deafens you.

After a while, the din thankfully quiets down. Exhausted, you drift off into uneasy sleep for a few hours, until some damp chill startles you again. You feel numb and heavy. For the first time since you came here, you take in your surroundings, though there isn’t much: You’re boxed into a container of rock, packed like a product. In one shadowed corner, there’s a pulpy grey lump stuck to the wall like mould. You blink away the darkness and realise it is a vaguely human shape: one with filthy, matted hair.

He is a man; or the sordid remnants of one.

He’s wearing the same drab, striped clothing as you, though older and rattier and crusted with grime. For a moment, you’re convinced he’s dead. The idea of being locked in with a rotting corpse flashes horrifyingly through your mind. But then, he raises his gloomy head. He must be waking up, too.

“Hello?” You gently call out to him. Your voice echoes around the room. You scrape your knee on the floor as you crawl over, trying to see him better.

Almost immediately, you regret your decision.

This is a mistake. Oh, god, it has to be.

The prisoner sharing your cell is Sirius Black.

That Sirius Black.

Sirius Black, who once fired off a curse that killed twelve muggles before you. Sirius Black, whose gaunt and hollowed cheeks now recall the skeleton you first believed he was. Sirius Black, who’s gazing fixedly at you now, in awe, as if you’re an apparition.

“Hello,” he echoes back, and his voice is so gravelly that he sounds like he’s swallowed a bag full of glass. His eyes are wide and strangely bright.

“I…”

Your throat constricts.

The panic from earlier almost drove you into hysterics. Now, you’re just a deer in the headlights.

He rises, advancing towards you.

“You don’t look like one of them,” Black rasps. You follow his line of sight towards your empty forearm.

“N-no, I’m not a Death Eater!” You cry, and scramble quickly away. Still, you feel the urgent need to clamp a hand down there. It’s as if his gaze burns you.

“I’m Innocent! I didn’t do it, I swear, I… I… ”

But you’re choked up with tears again. Now the dam is breached, and you can’t staunch the flow. You were so sullen and distant before the actual judges, but as you’re confronted with death at the hands of a possible madman, you’re desperate to prove yourself. It’s all completely pointless, but you can’t help it. You felt it when you failed your N.E.W.T’s, too. The weight of inevitability; the realisation that a door had slammed permanently shut on your life.

You’re so beside yourself, you don’t register how close Black has gotten. Now, you can feel his warm breath tickling your ear, almost pleasantly. But then you flinch, as images of brute, bloody violence force themselves into your head. All you know of this man is that he’s a ruthless killer, that’s he’s…

“Not going to hurt you,” Black tells you. He’s backed you into a wedge in the stone, with nowhere else to turn to but him. You feel like a cornered animal.

“Don’t cry, now,” he says quietly. A bony, shaking knuckle comes to wipe the wetness from your cheek. “If you are Innocent, don’t you forget. It helps not to.”

Don’t Forget… Black’s words solidify in your mind. You swallow down a lump. The scrape on your knee is beginning to sting painfully. You realise it’s bleeding.

“Wouldn’t do to catch an infection here, eh?” He quips. Black clumps together the cleanest strip of cloth he has and dabs at your weeping knee.

You blink owlishly. It’s so starkly conversational, it sounds like it came from an entirely different man.

“Um… No. No.” You sniff and rub your eye; it smarts. “You’re right, It really wouldn’t do.” You glance sheepishly back up at his pale face.

“…Thankyou,” you sigh, and you mean it.

For a brief second, this encounter feels precious. Without realising it, you’ve relaxed so much tension in your tired body. Suddenly, the absurdity of the situation you’ve found yourself in hits you like a ton of bricks. How could you have ever imagined you’d be comforted by a convicted murderer? He’s bent forward, staring intently at you, as if he’s trying to read your thoughts. A little too intently.

Black’s tattered shirt gapes open like a wound, and your gaze dips instinctively downward, tracing black-inked, swirling tattoos. His bare chest is coated in a thin sheen of sweat. Black’s hand brushes momentarily against yours, and you hurry to pry your wandering eyes away.

It’s no use, though, because he’s rather caught on. You believe you half-fantasise the ghost of a cheeky smile, twitching beneath his rugged whiskers.

He would’ve been handsome, once. He still is.

“Tell me your name,” Black murmurs, and licks his cracked lips. “I want to know.”

You tell him. He nods faintly, and draws closer.

Black’s grey eyes are half-lidded. He’s leaning flush against you now, breathing huskily, almost clinging to you, like he can’t bear to be apart from your heat. Maybe you’ve already lost the plot - after barely a day here - but the anguished, far-away longing in his expression makes your heart pang.

Eleven years ago now, it must’ve been…

A shrill, unwelcome noise cuts through the silence. Outside, another inmate is shrieking.

Then, the nightmare truly begins: an eerie rattle dragging across the air, knife-sharp, closing in, as certain as death. You realise immediately that it is the Dementors - your prison guards- even without seeing them. You feel them, cold like a sheet of ice, crushing you, inescapable.

You shift, darting your eyes around your cell; you must think of something, anything else.

Your distraction comes in a rush of warmth, cocooning you in a grimy coat. Black has caged you into his arms, and will not budge.

“Stay here with me,” he breathes. His voice is raw and hoarse, pleading: “Just for one moment…”

He shudders violently, and buries his face in the crook of your neck. Black squeezes you so tightly, so desperately, you feel like you’re suffocating.

“Sirius,” you croak out a protest. “Wait, let me go.”

The sound of his own name jolts him out of his panic, but his grip on you remains unrelenting. Sirius turns a sharp glare on you that makes you shiver.

Before, his gaze was fond, almost gentle, but now there’s a hungry glint in his eyes. It reminds you of the starving, feral dogs that roam the outskirts of Hogsmeade, the ones that’d rip your throat out for a mere scrap of meat. No, he may not have tried to kill you, but that doesn’t mean you should’ve let your guard down. You’re powerless to stop him now.

“Don’t leave, don’t you dare leave me,” he’s chanting through dirty, gritted teeth.

“I’m not going to leave, Sirius,” you muster. “I’ll stay, I’ll stay here with you…” The words seem to pacify him a little, and he softens his touch once more. You see again the sad, forlorn expression, and pity floods your heart. He’s a hurt man. A lonely man…

Another frigid spike of mental agony is driven through you, and you squeeze your eyes shut. You no longer have the willpower to resist. He’s so warm, his body wrapped around you like a protective blanket. You can hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat underneath his striped shirt, pounding like a drum.

“Help…” He sounds so lost, feverish. “…Stave it off.”

You find yourself nodding, pressing yourself closer to him. He’s right. It hurts you, too, the Dementors’ presence. All you have now is each other. Sirius strokes a clammy hand over your tear-stained cheek, lifts your chin and kisses you. His lips taste salty and bitter, and your teeth clash together clumsily with the urgency of it. You rush to hook your arms around his neck, fingers raking across knots and tangles in his dark, unkempt hair.

Sirius groans heavily into your mouth, bucking his hips. He’s so malnourished you can feel the harsh angle of his pelvic bone jut against you. Something else, hard, twitches fervently over your thigh. He tightens his hold on you before you can react, grasping your thighs and grinding powerfully over your still clothed cunt. You whimper as his heat radiates into you. Sirius doesn’t stop, panting frantically. Maybe he can’t stop. He’s trapped you between himself and the cold, hard stone, and you start to crave friction and relief from him. Something you can focus on that isn’t discomfort or pain. But you’re completely at his mercy in this position, and can only rub your clit wantonly against the throbbing outline of his dick. A low, pleased grumble resounds in his throat, almost canine.

Sirius paws at the confines of your inmate’s rags, and without warning, he forcefully disrobes you. You gasp as a freezing gust of air pimples gooseflesh on your exposed skin, but he’s on you just as fast, You cling instinctively onto his jacket as he hoists you onto his waiting lap. He latches onto your throat with a greedy bite, sucking ravenous hickies down to your collarbone. Sirius rolls a hot tongue over your hardened nipple, and you tug again at his tangled locks as he grazes tantalisingly over it with his teeth.

His hands are everywhere, movements once well-practised, natural, stirred into a lustful frenzy. One comes to pinch at your other nipple, another is slipping past your stomach, down in between your thighs where you’re needy and slick. You can’t help the moan that escapes past your lips as the pad of his thumb circles over your sensitive clit.

For a small, blissful moment, you rock into his palm as he holds you, stifling your mewls into his shoulder as he massages the bundle of nerves there. Oh, fuck, you need him, as much as you need air to breathe. If you shut your eyes, you can almost pretend that you weren’t here; that you are joyful and unfettered, making love to a free man.

“Mm, Sirius!”

Sirius curls another long finger into your wet slit, and you could swear the glint in his eye is smugly satisfied. He pumps mercilessly into your pussy, not sparing your clit from his attention, and it isn’t long before you feel a thrill rippling up your spine; tight, warm pressure building in your abdomen.

But then he seems to grow antsy and impatient. You whine as he pulls his hand away, but he hushes you, pressing a consoling kiss to your temple. The lucid side to him, the one that still cares for your comfort, provides you with his coat to rest your head on. You lie down, shuddering as the frigid air assaults you again. You grab at his rags as he quickly undresses. He’s taking too long, too long…

Sirius drags down the waistband of his slacks and releases the straining hardness of his cock. It’s erect and veiny, leaking precum from an enraged tip.

He’s left you so soaked that he meets no resistance as he buries himself deep into your ready cunt. You groan as you adjust to the girth of him, stretching your gummy walls. Sirius grunts, clutching your thighs so tightly his nails leave indents on the tender flesh. Sweat is pouring down his forehead in rivulets, and you reach up to brush damp hair away from his haggard face. It occurs to you faintly that maybe after such deprivation, this much sensation is overwhelming him. That notion is swiftly dashed as he stutters his hips jerkily into yours, and you squeak out a moan as your nerves jolt with pleasure. You clamp your legs down over his waist, rocking back into him with all the force you can muster.

Sirius is picking up pace faster and faster; he’s had enough of being attentive. He braces you against the thin material of his coat and begins fucking you in earnest, and his rough, sloppy thrusts knock the breath clean out of you. The impact of skin on skin echoes around your cell, drowning out the screams of agony from outside. You arch into him, clawing meagrely onto his biceps for purchase as your shoulder blades burn across the ground.

Sirius growls and grips the back of your neck, lifting you up to pull you into a hungry kiss. His free hand slips down to ruthlessly tease your clit again, and the inescapable power of his body dumbs your senses. It’s a mercy: now all you can feel is him, all you can think of is… The taut razor wire in your belly is threatening to snap. You’re so close now, and it’s like he can taste it, muffling your cries with his tongue as he buckles down and pounds into you.

Then it all breaks, a flash of heat rippling through you like an electric shock. The force of your climax is so strong that you instinctively writhe away from him, but Sirius holds you firmly down and only fucks you harder as you come, rumbling with satisfaction as you spasm and clench uncontrollably around his dick. You can barely comprehend how his movements are faltering, growing increasingly messy and desperate…

Sirius groans hoarsely before he drags himself out of you. His cum splashes over your still twitching stomach in a thick, white rope. He slumps, shuddering out a jagged sigh. Your orgasm lathers over you until it tapers off into a pleasant buzz. For a while, all you can hear is your intermingling breaths, panting in sync. Now that he’s pulled out, you feel strangely hollow and empty inside.

Uncaring of your still sticky belly, Sirius heaves his sweaty body on top of you and smothers you like a blanket. You only wish he could clog your senses, too, so that this reality could fade away. Seeking sanctuary in his warmth, you press your eyes shut and resolve to fall asleep and dream of better days.

Your life is forfeit. Now you will exist without sun, without moon, without food or water. Someday you may forget your own name.

But you will have this. You will have this.

[futurecorps3]

Jamie Potter with his busty reader who dresses in short clothes. James being jealous? James bragging? Who knows.

𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Masterlist<3

MINORS STAY AWAY I'LL BLOCK EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU, THIS IS +18!!!

See also… All marauders versions in my marauders masterlist<3 (Sirius’ is up!!!)

oh my god I love this concept!!! BIG TITS FOR THE WIN.

-My man is INSANE about them.

-I mean, especially if you like wearing short/revealing clothes like yes please

-Buries his face in them for suuuuure

-The others think it's disgusting (they're SO jealous), probably yell things like "oh James, not again" or "get a bloody room you two!"

-"You wish you could have something like this Pads", muffled because he's too busy suffocating on them. He’s right.

-Always respectful tho!! If it makes you uncomfortable and prefer to do it in private or not at all he’ll understand

-He is obsessed with them, yes, but Effie raised a boy with manners and there is no way in hell he’d touch you if he knows it’s making you uncomfy

-James brags RESPECTFULLY.

-Someone makes a comment about how hot their partner is? smug smirk, looks towards you.

-If he notices one of his friends staring, he looks them up and down knowingly and they immediately stop

-That man has an INTENSE death stare

-I feel like he just worships you in many ways and those massive boobs just add to the mix

-James gets protective but not jealous I think!!

-Like maybe if he sees someone staring too much, he’d offer his jumper or put an arm over your shoulders if you don’t feel like wearing anything else

-Just thought of him coming back from Quidditch practice, all burnt out and just

-“Hi baby! How was practi-“ “Missed you, missed m’girls” and straight up just lifts your shirt and stays on them while you play with his hair until he feels recharged.

-OF COURSE THE BOYS HAVE WALKED IN ON YOU GUYS WHEN IT GETS SPICY AFTER HE BURIES HIS FACE LIKE WHAT DID YOU EXPECT

-“YOU ABSOLUTE PIGS, MERLIN!” -Padfoot

-Buys you tank tops, crop tops, dresses with pretty cleavage and such, all in your favorite colors

-booooy you’re getting SPOILED

-“Jamesie darling, thank you! But what’s the occasion?” You say, opening the small bag containing three crop tops with different lengths of cleavage, “Do I need an occasion? The occasion is you’re gorgeous, okay? Now go try ‘em on!”

-Hehe, I’ve always thought my man loves a nice set of lingerie so you can guess how that goes

-All these don’t compose your relationship, it’s just a part of you guy’s dynamic!!!

-So basically, yeah, he’s obsessed.

-He’d die a happy man if your tits end up suffocating him <3