#first hp fic

[evadingreallife]

(By trope-specific i mean for example all the slash fics hosting websites, or the nsfw-only ones, etc)

[appleslightning]

exposure therapy by @pl0tty

[number1abbasupporter]

Sirius: i’m gay

James: that’s cool mate

James: everyone has gay thoughts though

Remus:

Peter:

Sirius:

Remus: boy do i have news for you

[thatmoonspell]

My first piece of fan art. My baby Regulus Black 🌙 ✨ Oil paint on 8x8 canvas. So excited to paint more HP pieces! 🤍

Follow me on Instagram!🌟

[cherry-pop-elf]

Birthday Boys

It’s Fred and George’s birthday, and you wanted to give them something very special. It’s hard to give them something like that, but you are married to them for a reason. As if they would ever settle for someone boring, now would they?

Warnings: 18+, Double Penetration (A and V), teasing, breeding, overstimulation, dirty talk, birthday suits ((hehe)) lipstick kink(?) and of course Fred Lives. Because I said so ((George still missing an ear tho! Bleh-!))

“Well what’s this?” George would blink, as a paper airplane would land itself on his desk. Fred would raise a brow, as he set down the ink he had grabbed for his younger twin. It’s April First. The ever busiest day of the year, and their birthday as well. That meant they were swamped with work, and just trying to finish the day. The shop may be closed, now, but damn they were still drowning.

“Don’t just stare at it, open it up-!” Fred would bonk the younger twin, with his wand, making him fix at his hair. He would give a grumble, as he unfolded the neat little parchment. By the hand writing alone, he knew it was from you. What was written made him a bit flushed in the cheeks. Always was the more emotional of the two, so Fred was quick to look over his shoulder. Reading along.

To my special Birthday Boys. You two have been working so hard all day. Such a wonderful occasion deserves a present, doesn’t it? I better expect you to leave paper work for later, and hurry up to our bedroom. It gets rather chilly being all alone. I don’t want your present to get cold either. Not when I worked so hard to wrap it all up so nicely in purples and oranges. If you don’t want it, I’ll be more than happy to make use of it all myself. Sincerely yours~!

Never had they side alone aparated so fast in their life. Gave you quite the startle, to suddenly see them. You should have figured they wouldn’t waste time, but boy they move fast. Even after all these years together, it catches you by surprise. Though, this time they were the ones with wide eyes this time around.

There you were, in the middle of the bed, dressed to the nines. A array of orange, and purple, fabric against your skin. Stockings of lace. Done up so pretty to mimic that of a fire work, with little dots all around. The fingerless arm length gloves had to be, as to help bring focus to how bare the rest of you were. Nothing else to your skin, but your own birthday suit. Besides so heavy makeup, because you knew they loved it when it got all ruined. What really sold it was the bows all over you. Around your thighs, wrists, neck, just for the comical effect of a birthday present. Hey, it’s April Fools. Gotta get silly.

“H-“ Before you could get a single syllable out, they were on you. Like starving dogs. Clothes were flying, and your body was quick to be sandwiched between the two men. Your neck attacked in kisses, and their ever rough hands trailing your skin. Tracing all the invisible lines they had tracked on you.

“Guess you like the surprise-?” You joked, as you were leaning yourself against Fred. While George was enjoying your front. Sucking plenty of hickies on your skin, while Fred was enjoying playing with your nipples. Had you squeak, and flush, as he was enjoying the happily given toy.

“Taking that as a yes-“ You sighed, as you were just a meal for the wolves. Wolves that always had your flavor of flesh in mind. It just felt so good to be so desired. To be wanted so badly, it could hurt. Especially after such an exhausting day, they needed to get that pent up steam out.

“Been thinking about you all day long-“ George would sigh, as he stole your lips into his own. Happily allowing your lipstick to stain his own, while your hips rubbed onto the building hard on in Fred’s lap. Just a tangle of wild limbs, and you couldn’t have loved anything more.

“Come on, save some for me. Give em here-“ And you would be stolen by Fred next. Making sure he got his lips stained all the same. George didn’t complain, as he would let the lipstick residue trail over your exposured chest. Designing you, as Fred let his tongue do any talking he had left.

You enjoyed the sensual, and slow, pace. Made you fall into the mood far easier. But, you knew why they were being so gentle. Gentle starts always ended with you drooling and utterly delirious. They were going to destroy you, to your core, and that had you so hopeful.

“Just look at you.” They breathed, in unison, as you were just a doll in their hands. Your body leaning into Fred’s, with his legs spread to make sure you were comfortable. Meanwhile George was above you, on his knees, and taking in the sight. Just starving for you, while Fred was busy with the bedside table. Making sure to grab some lube, as you realized what you signed up for.

“Don’t say I never treat you.” That had them laugh, at your comment. Sweet little feathery kisses were given to your face, and neck, while the line was passed to each other. Slicking themselves up, before using the residue to make sure you were nice and comfortable. A thank you, for such a wonderful present.

“Wrapped up in such a pretty bow.” Fred sighed, as he stuck two fingers inside of you. That had you bite your lip, before the mimicking motion from George made it slip out. Fred was in your ass, and George was in your core. Able to copy each other’s movements in perfect unison. Some call it disturbing, you call it heaven.

“Damn, wet as hell. Don’t even need lube. We’re so excited to get to be our gift, weren’t you? Isn’t that sweet Fred-?” “Oh the ever sweetest George. We love it when you get excited. Gets us excited.” They echoed each other, while making sure to lather as much as they could. Knowing you would need it, and still remembering to put your needs first. Just gentle motions, as they made sure to cover as much as two fingers could. Teasing away at your sensitive spots, just to make you squirm.

“I can’t wait any more.” “Couldn’t have said it better myself.” And like that, the fingers were removed. You whined at it, which made them smirk. Now, you were feeling them pressed against you. They planned to go in, at the exact same time. It made your heart race. To imagine, being stuffed so quickly.

“How about we-“ But they broke through the tight barrier, and your mind was mush. Not so much from pain, just the over whelming sensation of being so full. To feel your insides grow so tight, as your muscles were being pulled yet pushed at the same time. Was a fluttery experience. Somehow so light, yet couldn’t be heavier.

“Fuck fuck fuck-“ You heard Fred whisper into your ear, while your blurry eyes could make out that George was hardly able to keep his own open. Biting into his stained lip, as to not whimper too early. To last, but damn. You knew he was fighting for his life.

Once they were both fully inside, the three of you just stayed that way. A mixture of wanting to make sure you were adjusted, and them not wanting to end the game so soon. How embarrassing that would be. Least that meant you were being pampered. With heavy breathing, and wet kisses on your skin. A means to help you relax, and it worked.

“Lucky me, I get to be the first one to pump you full. Isn’t that nice of Fred? To let me be the one to pump your little womb full?” That had your face burn. Yeah, you three were trying, but none of you exactly went into to much details on how such a thing would plan out. Given Magic was involved, with everything, isn’t a dumb guess to think these two will somehow knock you up at the same time. Just made you all the more flushed, as Fred would rub over your stomach.

“Don’t worry. When he’s done with you, we will switch. I can’t just waste it all in your ass. I love that cute thing, but I love you being full of out kids more.” Fred moaned, as he finally moved his hips. Just in time with George’s. The feeling of two at once, in different holes. Truly a fuzzy experience.

Your hands found George’s shoulders, while Fred grabbed your legs. Keeping you spread as wide as they could, as they rocked their hips into you. Such perfect calculations to make sure your mind stayed in that blissful fuzz. Was leaving you with your nails into Georges skin.

“Come on, love. You gotta moan louder for me. I’m missing an ear over here. Give me some noise-!” George cackled, as Fred took that as a que to pick up the pace. Your head was rolling itself back, and leaned on Fred’s shoulder. Giving George exactly what he wanted, after all. Louder moans, whimpers, gasps, and plenty of smacking flesh to fill in between.

“So cock drunk, and the night hardly started.” Fred teases, as he bit into your shoulder. Needing to steady himself, but the feeling was too much. George would have agreed, if it were vocal. They were getting sloppy with their movements, and you wouldn’t last long either. Especially since George was now planting sloppy kisses against your lips. Leaving you two a jumble mess of spit and moans.

Hearing their desperate breaths, and whimpers of trying to hold on, it was what brought you over the edge. By proxy, your tightening grip in your body had them gasp. Their hips stuttering, as they came inside of you. Throbbing, and having a shake in their system.

Riding it out was such a warm feeling. Felt like everything was on fire, in all the best ways. Already so exhausted, and ready to just sleep, but….They weren’t making any April fools joke with you. Just as your eyes closed, they moved.

You have a squeak, before a breathy moan, as they pulled out. Left such a mess between all your legs, before you were flipped around. Your hands now on Fred’s chest, and ass presented to George. Out right lining up again.

“Perk-A-Boo~!” Fred teases, as he poked your nose. Just as you wiggled it, they thrusted right back into you. The stimulation of being restuffed was mind melting. Right after your high, and with so much already running down your legs. The sounds of all made were so loud, and wet. Was utterly thrilling.

Fred was happy to drink in your moans, hogging as many kisses as he could. Meanwhile George was happily feeling over your hips. Letting those hard working hands trace the lipstick marks shared between them both.

“Don’t do poor Georgie like that, come on. You gotta moan a little louder. His hearing isn’t so good.” Fred would tease, as he forced your chin up. Trying to amplify your desperate sounds. It was all too much. You were going to reach your peak again, with tears running down your face. Smearing away the remains of your makeup.

“Just hang on a little more. I want to make sure I get nice and deep in there.” Fred comforted, as George planted kisses down your back. Making sure your skin was covered in whatever remained of their lips.

Everything was so blurry, but you knew this. You came again, and your insides were coated once more. The ringing in your ears were dancing with the shakey moans of your lovers. So happy, and satisfied, with wrecking you so much.

When you came back to reality, you realized the lingerie you wore was gone. Seems they made sure to give you a sponge bath, before they were knocked out. You between them, as they snuggled you.

Fred behind you, as he held your stomach. Ever a man that loved feeling your ass against him. Meanwhile George was infront of you, tangling your legs together, as he snuck his arms just above Fred’s. His face under your chin, so he could listen to your heart beat.

“Happy birthday, you two.” You whispered, as you made sure they both were kissed on their heads. Freckled smiles crossed their lips, as they snuggled closer. Fred, enjoying his nose in your neck, while George gave you a squeeze. Maybe you should gift wrap yourself more often.

[courfee]

“Regulus would be proud of us,” James whispered quietly to no one in particular, still gripping onto the painting like a life raft. 

— Tender Curiosities, Baby!  @otrtbs

[neverenoughmarauders]

Sirius Black did not know that Barty Crouch Jr was a Death Eater! He didn’t know that Severus Snape was a Death Eater! He did not know that the dark mark was branded into Death Eaters (and could thus never have expressed the sentiment: Regulus got / took the mark). When Harry told Sirius about Karkaroff showing Snape something on his arm, it confused Sirius.

Death Eaters operated with masks and in secrecy of each other (that’s likely why Snape didn’t know Peter was the spy).

Nobody knew shits in the first war!

[hollowdeath]

my own personal headcanons about harry <3

always reading. always wants to talk about what he's reading. lovesss when you ask him about each book, even better if you want to read it WITH him. secretly loves when you ask him to read you to sleep, even if you only last 5 minutes. always carrying at least a couple books with him at all times. catching him asleep in random places with a book on his chest/face.

LOVES photography. idc idc idc this boy ALWAYS has a camera on him, loves to go on nature adventures for photo ops, constantly asking you to stand somewhere or look at him for yet another portrait. especially loves film & the process of creating a print by hand.

huge animal lover. especially loves cats & dogs. will stop and pet every stray he sees. will spend the majority of every visit to a friend's house trying to get their pet to love him. has a natural connection with them and always has birds, squirrels, and even insects coming up to him with curiosity.

physical touch is his love language. constantly touching you in some way, always wants to hold hands, laying his head on you whenever he can, just can't get enough of it. always looks forward to a night in spent on the couch cuddling & reading together. plays with your hair!!! all the time!!! will literally fall asleep with his hand tangled in your hair at night.

jealous. j-e-a-l-o-u-s. not to an extreme extent, but this boy gets real protective real quick. he's not insecure when it comes to you, he could just never forgive himself if he ever let you get hurt in some way. always has his arm around you in some way while in public, or at least keeps you within eye sight at all times.

music lover!! he loves anything from classical, orchestral, instrumental music to jazz to rock. he's taught himself a bit of guitar, piano, and drums, but is more interested in listening than learning. always asks to go to the theatre, stopping by the local jazz night, and listens to buskers on the street. always has a pair of headphones on him in case he gets a minute away to listen to a song and read a few pages.

[ecstarry]

"Regulus' Birthday" - a sweet microfic set in the same universe as my fic Dare to Stay // @fromagony @godsofwoes // 486 words

“Happy Birthday, love.” Regulus was awaken to the soft voice of his James. His James. His James waking him up. With a gentle kiss, on his birthday. In his bed. He slowly opened his eyes as a smile adorned his face. 

“Good morning, Jamie.”

It was their first big celebration together ever since they shared their first kiss a few months ago. They had longed for each other too many years to waste a single day apart. James was good at making up for lost time. 

“Get dressed, the boys have a surprise for you.” 

He quickly put on some pants and James’ shirt from yesterday. He loved nothing more than smelling like him first thing in the morning. James held the bedroom door for him, and as Regulus passed him by, James grabbed him from behind, placed his chin on Regulus’ shoulder and very gently whispered “I love you.” Three words that never failed to send a shiver through Regulus’ spine. 

Regulus turned around, his hands instinctively cupping James' face. "I love you too, Jamie."

“Let’s go, love. I can feel the boys getting impatient.”

Giggles and tiny voices grew louder as they walked down the stairs. When they reached the last step Regulus stopped dry. The entrance had a big banner reading ‘Happy Birthday’ in fun colors, and ‘we love you’ written under it in what was clearly Harry and Draco’s writing. 

Before he could even process the overwhelming warmth that was filling him, two little boys rushed towards his arms with such a force that he fell over. 

“Happy birthday Uncle Reggie!” Said Draco as he kissed his cheek.

“Aaaaah!” Harry just screamed as he also launched himself towards a fallen Regulus. Harry hugged him tightly, a gesture Regulus held onto dearly just as much as the first time it happened. 

“Okay, let’s give my fiancé some space on his big day. Let’s go show him his surprise.” James helped him up and they followed the boys towards the kitchen. 

Like two miniature guards, Draco and Harry stood on opposite sides of the pantry door.

“One, two, three!”

“Surprise!” Sirius said as the doors opened and ran towards Regulus to embrace him. 

“I thought you were going to be away,” Regulus whispered to his brother’s ear while holding onto him. 

“I have never spent a birthday away from you, I was not going to start now little brother.”

Regulus couldn’t help the tears falling down his cheeks. He remembered the loneliness and desperation that filled his fifteen year old self. He was now living a reality that once upon a time felt like a fantasy. Something unattainable, something someone like Regulus Black would never deserve.

He now had everything he had ever longed for. 

There, one day in July, standing in the kitchen of Potter Manor, Regulus Blacked had no more scars left to heal. He was happy. Entirely and blissfully happy. 

here's the complete fic that started it all

[yupthisisshe]

Your voice is my favorite sound -- Neville Longbottom x gn! Reader

Summary: Nevile begins rambling about plants and Neville apologizes for talking too much. Reader assures him that they do not mind at all.

A/N: Reader and Neville may or may not be dating. It’s up to you <3

Happy reading! :)

Neville had been rambling on about plants for the last 6 minutes. You didn’t mind. You liked plants as well, and you loved learning more from Neville. You also loved it when he felt confident and comfortable enough to talk as much as he was right now.

“ohandmynewfavoriteplantisohmymerlinitssooooooocoolandithealsanditsfriendlyand [oh and my new favorite is oh my Merlin it's soooooooo cool and it heals and it's friendly and]- oh my Merlin I’m so sorry I’m talking so much. I’ll stop now.” Neville says abruptly, cutting himself off.

“What? Why?!” you questioned.

“Well- because- I-… am I not talking too much? I mean most people tend to get annoyed and tell me to shut up and-”

“Then those people won’t get to hear all the lovely and helpful things you have to say,” you responded with a smile, indicating that you weren’t annoyed in the slightest and that you wanted to hear more.

“Oh… um… thank you. For saying that.”

“Well, I meant it. I love listening to you. I could listen to you talk all day, although I don't know if I could go all day without accidentally interrupting when I get excited,” you chuckled. “But honestly, I love it when you talk, and I love talking to you. And you're super helpful. I've learned a lot from you and the information you share is extremely useful.” Neville grinned widely but sheepishly all the same. After a pause, he spoke again.

“So then, would you… like for me to continue?” he asked nervously.

“Of course!” you replied positively.

“Really?” Neville asked. His surprise that you wanted to hear him talk broke your heart a little bit. Even though the two of you had been close for a while now, he still wasn’t always sure of himself, even about simple things. You knew you had to say something to reassure him and demonstrate just how much you truly did love to hear him talk.

“Neville,” you began. Neville looked way more nervous than he should’ve. You gave him a smile to ease his worries as you continued. “Do you know what my favorite sound is?”

He pauses, taken aback by the seemingly sudden question, but not necessarily thrown off by the randomness in of itself. You can be pretty random at times, but he doesn’t mind. He thinks for a moment, then responds,

“Um, n-no. I don’t,” he responds, awaiting a revelation that he will surely take note of later, so as to not forget.

“Your voice.” You smile, and Neville looks like he could burst with joy and like he can’t believe his ears. It seems he really can’t believe his ears because he asks for clarification.

“M-my voice?” he asks tentatively.

“Yes.” you smile sweetly, and Neville swears he looking at the kindest person he’s ever met and ever will meet, “your voice.” He smiles even wider than before, and you swear his brightness puts the sun to shame. He continues to tell you more about plants and you continue to listen faithfully, adding in a few questions and thoughts of your own along the way. Neville’s jubilance doesn’t fade one bit for the rest of the day, and you could swear he must’ve worn his smile to sleep because he was still grinning a bit when you saw him the next morning.

[nottsdarling]

Drunk Rambles

: ex!bf theo x reader

: word count ; 706

: cw: MNDI!!!, smut, drunk!theo, sexual languages, praise, body worship (f receiving), oral sex (f receiving), face riding, rekindling

: a/n! this is my first fic ever so I’m sorry if there’s any errors etc ^_^

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The soft blankets fell against your legs as you got out of bed, investigating the continuous knocking and thumps at your dorm room door. Slender fingers reached out towards the brassy doorknob, twisting it with a slight creak. Your mouth fell agape. Standing (well rather swaying) infront of you was Theodore Nott, a man you swore to never interact with again. With a quick look, you slammed the door in his face just about when he was going to speak. Your almost limp body slide down the wooden door, unable to think straight.

Do I let him in? What do I do? Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Slowly pushing your body upwards, and straightening out a few strands of hair, you unlocked the door again. Theodore fell into your arms, slurring his words to the point where you couldn’t understand.

“I miss hic you… p-please… I- I need to-“

He spoke, mumbling and wiping his salvia all over your chest. Letting out a pitiful sigh, you dragged him towards your bed, pushing him underneath the covers.

“I… I need you… I need to tell you…”

Theo began speaking again, trying his best to coordinate his words together so that you would understand. His body instinctively scooted closer to yours, gravitating towards your touch. Burying his face in the crook of your neck, his breathing becoming uneven. He inhales deeply, savoring your scent. Oh how he loved how you smelt, your touch, everything. He eventually pulls away, mumbling something incoherently against the soft skin of your neck.

“What did you say? Theo?”

You whispered, your voice trembling ever so slightly. Your heart pounds in your chest, as his touch sent a shiver down your spine. Pushing his hand away from your thighs, you shook your head.

“You’re drunk. You’re drunk Theo, no.”

He nodded, acknowledging that he was in-fact under the influence. A drunken smile spread across his (handsome) face.

“But that doesn’t make anything… hic… less true, principessa.”

He mutters, his hand traveling down to your thighs again. You blushed, squeezing your thighs together against his large hand.

“You’re so beautiful… so hic pretty… I need you, bambina.”

Theo whispered, his voice an octave lower as his index finger began to rub your clit through your soaked panties. Letting a small moan slip, Theo felt his cock instantly harden. Slipping a finger into your wet hole, you let out a small whimper.

“You’re so fucking perfect… you always have been, so pretty and your body così bello.”

He spoke, his voice ringing out through your eardrums. Softly pulling down your shirt, he exposed your boobs. He almost came on the sight of them. Pulling his hand back, Theo sucked on his index finger, devouring the taste of your cunt. You didn’t know how you got in this position, but you didn’t care because it felt so fucking good. Slowly rocking your hips against Theodore’s mouth, you swore that it felt better than it used too.

“Ohh fuckk,”

You moaned out, your hands supporting your body by pressing up against the wooden headboard. Maybe because you were so pent up, or maybe you missed his mouth, but he had made you cum in under 6 minutes.

“T-Theo! Holy fuck… fuck fuck!”

Almost screaming out his name as you felt the knot in your stomach snap, letting all your juices and cum be licked up like a hungry man by Theo.

Letting Theo rest on your bare chest was something else. The spark between you two had been relit, emerging into a new flame of love and forgiveness. You missed him, just as much as Theo had missed you.

“You did so good, cara bella,”

Theo murmured into the skin of your left breast, his other hand resting on the right. You blushed, your fingers entwined with his soft locks.

“I missed you… I didn’t know what to do so I turned to drinking again… I’m sorry, forgive me,”

He begged, his eyes showing genuine emotion. You felt your heart throb, you had missed him too. It somewhat hurt to realize that this breakup was for the worst, and not the best.

“I’ll always love you, we’re soulmates, tesoro…”

To which you agreed with a gentle kiss on his forehead.

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Reblogs, follows etc are appreciated!!!

Please do not repost my work on any platform w/o permission + credits.

Have an amazing day and/or nights my angels mwah!

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[geminil0vr]

two heads are better than one | fred and george weasley

tldr: your rather salicious friend, fred, is showing you the ropes when his brother walks in. what you don't expect, however, is for him to keep going.

word count: 2.5k

content: very dubious consent. one shot of vodka voyeurism, first time foreplay, cunnilingus, overstimulation, etc!

“Shit, Fred!” 

Your thighs tremble as one of your closest friends pumps a thick finger in and out of you, delivering teasing, kitten licks to your clit. Just ten minutes ago, you confessed to Fred, your friend of eleven months, that no one had ever touched you before, and he took matters into his own hands: quite literally.

As it turns out, this is more than a mere extension of your occasional drunken flirtatiousness: that was child's play, now, nothing more than two friends joking about. You've thought about Fred before, and Fred most certainly about you, but you never imagined he'd be between your thighs, opening you up for him under the guise of 'showing you the ropes'. Sure, you've been in his room before, while his family wasn't home. And sure, he's made cheap jokes about you plenty of times, too. But this time, when he called you a prude and you shot back, revealing a rather vapid sexual history... one thing led to another, and now he's showing you things you've merely dreamed about. It's only meant to be of help, a lesson, experience for the future, but he knows exactly how to touch you, how to make your knees weak and your heart stutter in anticipation. The summer air is stifling, the sensation of him showing you what he can do (or rather 'what he does best', as he claims, and you wouldn't be in much of a place to disagree) suffocating as you arch your back off his checkered duvet, now damp with sweat.

It's weirder than anything to be doing something as dirty as this in his family home, let alone the room he shares with his twin brother: but you'll have to move past that. Thinking too much in a situation like this isn't ideal — you draw your eyes away from George's side of the room. You just need him to keep going.

Seeking some sense of stability, you clutch the bedframe tightly behind your head, knuckles paling. He seems to hit a new spot every second, and you wouldn't dare glance down to see him revelling in what he's doing to you. You attempted that at the start, when he had lowered you onto his bed and carefully removed your shorts. With a few cautious touches to your clit over your underwear, making sure you felt okay with him touching you like this, you simply gave up and flattened against the mattress. Now, your clothing is somewhere across the room and your thighs are slick, patterned with tender bites and kisses from before Fred dived exactly where you wanted him.

He doesn't think he's ever seen someone so beautiful, so out of their own control and into his, quiet moans and gasps escaping your lips as he slides his tongue expertly over your folds. In fact, he might just cum in his jeans, seeing your body spread out for him, tits bouncing in the small, transparent tank top you'd pulled on under your top when you left this morning. Certainly didn't expect the afternoon to turn out like this.

“You can be louder, love,” He grins against you, mouth and chin wet with your slick, and you squint an eye open, propping yourself up to look at him in all his glory. You've never seen anyone this pretty, either. Being so exposed, you flush, attempting to close your legs just as he gingerly presses them down again, hand on one thigh and an elbow on the other, "No one's home."

“Can you —” You gasp when he chuckles at the desperate pitch of your voice, cool air blowing over you and causing your hips to jerk upwards, “— please not refer to your family while you're...”

“Eating you out?” His lips pull into an easy smirk, and before you can speak he blows another, teasing wave of air over your clit. Your hips jolt involuntarily again. You throw your head back and grab a handful of his bright hair, pushing him back lightly.

“Please, Fred.”

“You’re no fun, Y/N.” he retorts playfully, before swiping his tongue once more against you, making you whimper even louder and roll your hips in tandem with him. Curses spill from your lips quietly whenever he catches your clit just right — you need more.

He plants a wet kiss on your thigh, asking for your attention, and you sit up again, cheeks hot and hair mussed from the repeated tossing and turning. You eye him expectantly, brows furrowed in desperation and wanting nothing more than for him to keep going.

“Do you want me to try and add another finger, or d'you think that's too much?”

“Yeah, yes please. More, please.” You mumble, gnawing at your lip and guiding your hips back to his mouth. He smiles, sweeter this time, and nips at your clit. Before long, he's carefully sinking another finger into you. You've never felt this full, and if you weren't so drunk on the feeling of his lips on you, you would be panicking.

“Christ, you’re tight,” He keeps his elbow pressed firmly against one of your flushed thighs, his hand on your other one, still preventing you from closing your legs, “Can you relax for me?”

With his free hand, he trails soft circles on your hip, and you adjust slightly to the stretch, letting his index and middle finger sink a little further into you.

“Fred, have you seen my— oh.”

Always with the excellent timing, George Weasley bursts through the door holding a half-eaten slice of buttered toast in one hand, the door handle in his other.

He pauses in the doorway for a moment, “Blimey. Nice one.”

Fred glances over at him, barely reacting and continuing to open you up despite the fact that you're clamping down on him in embarrassment, "Yeah, thanks, mate."

He leans down and lets a trail of saliva drip itself down to your heat. You freeze in shock as George continues into the room, eyes shifting off your body and to a chest of drawers in front of the two beds. Fred curls his fingers and the moan that catches in your throat propulses you into action: you grasp him by the hair, not too rough, and attempt to push him away.

“What's wrong?” His brows knit together. George is rummaging through the first drawer, clearly frustrated and in search of something.

“Fred, you—” Your chest flushes once more, this time in humiliation, and your stomach caves in and out with each hurried breath, “Your brother is right there!” you hiss.

You squirm under his hold, but he secures a hand around your waist and squeezes so delicately that you almost forget. Any attempt to clench your thighs together is futile: you're mad at Fred, for leaving you exposed; at George, for interrupting; at yourself for clenching around his fingers when you should be wrestling your way off the bed and back into your clothes. The only thing you can do is press your hands over your tits, painfully aware of how see-through your top is. Throughout all of this, George has given up and made his way to sit on his bed, facing you both just a few feet away, munching nonchalantly on his toast and fiddling with a figurine on his nightstand.

“And?” He curls his fingers inside you again and you bite your lip, eyes frantic, caught between crying or grinding your hips further into his palm. Your eyes dart over to George, who's lazily rolling a trinket around in his hand, rubbing at his nose with his wrist.

“What do you mean, and? He's right there!” You spit down at him.

“Does it really matter?” His voice ends up muffled by your folds as he glides his tongue between them, saliva and cum coating his fingers. You whimper desperately, squirming again in pleasure and discomfort.

“Sorry to interrupt," Your head whips to the side as George begins to speak, eyes wide, body tensing, "But, Fred?"

He reluctantly pulls away from you, lips swollen, "Yeah?"

"D'you have any idea where that Muggle... game-thingy, is? The one that Dad brought back the other day?" He finishes his toast.

"What, the Gameguy?" Fred questions.

"Gameboy! That!"

Fred nods heartily and gingerly removes his fingers from you, still covered in slick, to point to a woven basket full of clutter in the corner of the room. You whine.

"Should be in there."

As George gets up, still chewing, your eyes track Fred's fingers to his mouth, where he sucks them clean and opens up your thighs again, hands splayed out. He eyes your swollen clit, your hole clenching around nothing.

"You like that, do you?" Your eyes dart to his, jaw slack.

You barely manage to squeak out a, "What?"

"Tastes sweet." He squeezes your hip, grinning and leaning down to capture you in his mouth once again. You gasp, long ago having given up on covering up, instead holding yourself up as your hands clutch the duvet. Your eyes dart from him to George.

"Fred, please!"

"Please, what?" he mumbles, thighs closing in around his head as he grips your waist, this time letting you.

A whimper is your only response, and you bite down on the side of your hand to keep yourself quiet. At this, he presses your hands to the bed.

"No, love — let me hear you. George doesn't mind, do you George?" The boy in question casts a glance over his shoulder as he digs through the clutter.

"No, really, it's fine!"

Fred quirks a brow at you, "See?"

He buries his face into your sex, 'eating you out' like his life depends on it, and you sob out in need when he pushes one of your thighs away to shove his fingers back inside you again, "Shit!"

George chuckles to himself, glancing at you two again and fiddling with the Gameboy he's finally recovered. Brushing a hand off on his pants, he grabs a wooden chair and sits next to the bed, nonchalantly pressing a few buttons on the game console. Your eyes widen in surprise, only snapping shut when you feel the pressure in your abdomen mounting up.

“God, Fred, enough! Please!” The humiliation racks through your body, and George tossing his Gameboy to the side to lean back in his chair and watch you, so close to coming undone, certainly doesn't help. Fred tries to soothe you by tracing more circles on your hip, but it sets you more on edge than anything with his brother sat right there.

“It’s okay, Y/N, you’re doing great. First time?” George, your friend, the boy you don't often speak to unless involving yourself in the twins' antics or eating with them in the dining hall, smiles softly while you hold yourself back from letting go. You nod meekly, cheeks flaming as your breathing picks up even more. Oh, God.

In search of some form of escape, you turn your head away from George and bury it into a pillow. Fred is relentless, brushing against your g-spot with every curl of his fingers, teeth at times brushing against your clit and making you jump, closer and closer to your orgasm washing over you. You're helpless, at his mercy. Somehow at George's, too.

George leans forward, elbows resting on his jean-clad thighs as his eyes drag from your open legs, to your bouncing tits, to your neck, turned from him, exposed and shining with sweat.

“You’re doing such a good job, Y/N, love. How about you let go for Fred, hm?” George lilts, tone sweet as he leans forward to brush a hand up your side, at the skin of your waist and over your tank top. You look over at him just as Fred scissors his fingers even deeper inside you, vision blurring.

"No, I— shit —" You bite down on your lip as George's fingers brush over your nipple, already raw with arousal, "George —"

“For me? Come on, love. It's okay."

It’s at this moment that you lose all control, senses shutting down and heightening all at once — your body convulses as you cum. You clamp down on Fred's fingers, chest arching into George's touch, crying out. You have no time to come down, however, when Fred doesn't stop, only slowing down slightly, easing up on your clit and in turn leaving more sloppy bites on the insides of your thighs. George's fingers dance their way up under your top, brushing the underside of your breast. You can't help but curve your back further, body writhing.

“Oh God, Freddie, please! I can’t, I can't, I can't —” you sputter weakly, to no avail.

“You don’t wanna cum on my fingers again?” he teases, once more latching onto your clit, eyeing the way your whole body quivers with overstimulation.

“Come on, you can do it, dove. It's okay, just one more,” George's voice calms you, rough hand softly running over your tits, rolling a thumb over your nipple. You bite your fist, then grasp at your tits yourself, not knowing where to put your hands, desperate not to flail. You can feel the warmth of his skin through your top, and the feeling in your abdomen starts up again, “Mhm, that’s it.”

Finally, you're cumming.

“Fuck!” Your other hand shoots up to your mouth, muffling a yell as you succumb to their touch, legs giving in. Now, Fred let’s you ride out your orgasm, being careful of your sensitivity as he pumps his fingers in and out a few more times before finally pulling away, even as your body attempts to coax him back inside.

George squeezes your waist tenderly, pulling back to watch his brother guide his slick fingers to your lips. Pliable with your eyes hooded, you open your mouth, slathering them with saliva and sucking them clean. Fred runs a hand through your hair, kissing you softly on your temple, mumbling about how well you did, how good you are.

George watches you intently before leaving to lie back on his own bed, Gameboy in hand. Adjusts himself. Fred grabs tissues from his nightstand and cleans you up, finding your clothes and helping you into them. You stand uneasily, ears humming with static, eyes unfocused, and head to the door.

Fred follows you out, and you keep yourself steady by grabbing onto his arm. You look up at him. A cheeky smile tugs at his lips.

“You don't want to stay for dinner?”

He knows better than anyone that you can hardly see straight.

“No, I — I think I'll just, um... I'm just gonna head home." You give him half a smile back, dazed, trying to be polite and make sure your knees don’t buckle all at once.

“No problem, love. You'll be alright by yourself?”

“Yeah,” you rasp out.

“Alright. See you later.” He leans against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, and your body thrums once more just at the sight of him. You straighten up slightly at the top of the stairs.

“Yeah,” You clear your throat, “Yeah, sure.”

a/n: this is a rewrite of a previous fic, and i really didn't realise how dark it was until i edited it. this stuff is not normal! consent is key, yada yada yada! it was still getting quite a bit of traction but i ended up accidentally deleting it so... here you go.

[not-rab]

part eight of Music and Memories, a Marauders band AU

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

part seven | part nine

[littleliterarylesbian]

James didn't mean for it to end up like this. Honest! At first it was more of a caution thing. Sirius said he was worried about Regulus while tipsy, borderline drunk, and James, being the good friend he is, decided to look into it.

It started small. He would follow the name with the map at night until it eventually stayed in the dorms, until one night he saw the name start up again after only about an hour of being stationary. It couldn't be going to the Astronomy Tower, the first years were still in class, and he wanted to make sure Regulus was safe.

So after a few seconds of contemplation he grabbed the cloak and snuck out, using the map to guide him until he caught sight of pale freckled skin.

James remembers his breath catching for the first time at the sight in front of him, how the moon seemed to light up his skin, highlighting the curls in his black hair, showing off the stark white streak, and the jewelry that he adorns himself with.

There was something inside him that realized that this sight, the sight of Regulus star gazing in a small alcove with a book open but not being read, was all his own. The openness within silver eyes so different compared to the apathy that is usually shown.

James could feel his neck constrict as suddenly the urge to take filled him. But he couldn't. That's... that's wrong. But he can't leave now, Regulus would hear his steps, know that someone was here with him without his consent.

At least that's the excuse he gave himself at the time. He doesn't know how long he stayed there, watching with his fists clenched at his sides. He hadn't noticed before, but the streak of blond goes all the way to Regulus' lashes. It's mesmerizing. Connecting the freckles into the stars and patterns that the other is watching.

He feels so guilty the day after, he doesn't look anyone in the eye and just the sight of Regulus in the great hall is enough to heat his face to the point that he feels lightheaded. He's lucky that it's hard to tell. He doesn't plan to do it again. It makes him a bit sick to think that he did that in the first place, that he just couldn't help himself like the usual sick excuse people give when they're caught like that.

But he does. He does do it again. He can't help it. The image stays stuck inside his mind, and it warps his fantasies. Green eyes turn grey as the curtains around his bed are spelled shut, pale skin that loses its rosy undertone as he closes his eyes tight to lose himself in his imagination.

He needed to see it again.

It was months of the same thing over and over again. Promises that he won't go again, that he won't do anything again, that he'll give back the small collection of rings that don't fit his own fingers and fess up. He doesn't. He can't. He aches to be close. To feel soft skin against his own.

He knows if he's caught now it would be disastrous. Regulus wouldn't want anything to do with him. So he just has to keep their hidden moments together to himself. He doesn't even think he feels guilt anymore, just the stress of keeping it to himself. Not being able to brag about how he's seen every inch of Regulus, sneaking in when his roommates are out or when Quidditch games are over just to watch.

Not when it would leave him with a label that, while probably accurate, feels dirty. He's just looking. Admiring can't be that much of a crime, could it?

That doesn't mean he doesn't daydream about Regulus finding out, though. Mainly, it's about more improbable outcomes. How Regulus' eyes would go wide and coax him into the shadows like he hasn't already been the reason that James will be dragged to hell when he dies. But he's thought about the more realistic ones, and those are things he just can't let happen. He can't let Regulus look upon him with disgust and disdain, not when Regulus only just started to look at him at all.

So he'll keep it to himself until he's unable to. Keep their hidden moments together close to his chest. They're just for him. No one else.

companion piece :]

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

I've read so much fanfiction in the past few years that sometimes I forget that I am not, in fact, a white middle-aged British man. Is this a universal experience.

...

On a related note, I spend so much time on tumblr that now I don't know which timezone I'm running on, because it sure as fuck isn't Indian Standard Time. I woke up at 3 in the afternoon yesterday and it's now 7 am, I'm going to sleep soon. Which of you maggots gave me your timezone?!

(I did a little googling and it seems that I'm living healthily according to the timezone of Buenos Aires and Rio de Janeiro. I don't know what to do with this information. The rest of this week, I mostly match up to London time.)

[lovebotmo]

like the movies

chapter one - falling behind

series masterlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader

wc: 1199

author’s note: i am so excited for this first chapter. im forcing myself to pace these so i don't get burned out LMAO. i hope you enjoy this first installment!!! also not beta read so fight me.

song inspiration: "like the movies" by laufey

“Why haven’t you ever dated, Y/n?”

While the question had been relatively simple, its forwardness sent you into a coughing fit while sipping your coffee at breakfast. Sitting across from the inquirer, Luna Lovegood, you quickly mopped up your spill while throwing her a dirty look. The conversation at your table that morning in the Great Hall had consisted of relationships, past, present, and mind-numbing, wobbly-kneed crushes, but you hadn’t expected the focus of the chat to turn towards you.

To your right, your dearest friend, Hermione Granger, quickly jumped to your defense. “It’s not that simple, Luna. There are a number of perfectly good reasons why someone does or does not, in Y/n’s case, date!”

Hermione seemed absolutely content with her answer, patting you gently on the back with a kind smile. Her sympathy made you groan before you dropped your head into your hands. “For the love of Merlin, can we please discuss something—”

Ginny Weasley plopped down on your right, eager to give her two cents on the matter of your abysmal dating record. “I mean, you’ve had people interested in you, right? None of them have piqued your fancy? What’s his face—um…Lee Jordan! He asked you out a few months ago, right? What about him?”

“What about Cormac?” asked Hannah Bones. “I know he’s a bit of a tosser, but he’s not bad to look at. I sit next to him in Transfiguration, I could introduce you!”

Increasingly irritated with the course of the conversation, you piped up. “Thank you, Hannah, but I’ve got no interest in—”

Ginny interrupted, “What about one of my brothers? They’re bloody idiots, no doubt, but I’m sure I could put in a good word. What’s your type? Hmm—you into the whole cheeky thing Fred and George have going on—”

“Enough!” The four girls stared at you and your face that could easily rival a tomato with its present scarlet hue. A silence washed over the nearby tables in the Great Hall. A few odd looks were thrown at you from the surrounding students before their conversations recommenced. “As much as I appreciate your intense interest in my lack of relationships, I don’t feel like fleshing it out over cinnamon rolls and sausage links at 8:00 a.m. in the morning, if you lot don’t mind.”

The girls quickly began to apologize before you hushed them. “It’s totally fine, seriously, I just don’t want to get into it. We’re all good. Promise.”

As if sensing that you weren’t entirely ‘good,’ Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but Hermione beat her to it. “Y/n and I have got to get going if we’re going to make it to Potions. We’ll see you guys later, alright?” You could have snogged the life out of Hermione for the offered escape route. You and Hermione both knew you had another thirty minutes before your first class, but what the three girls didn’t know wouldn’t kill them. After swiftly packing up her things, Hermione linked her arm with yours, whisking you away from the other three.

Even though your next class was in the dungeons, Hermione steered you towards an unfamiliar corridor, one she had likely found on the vast number of adventures she, Harry, and Ron had found themselves in over the years. Arms still intertwined; she sat you both on a bench. After sitting in a few moments of silence, you squeezed her arm and spoke, “Thanks, ‘Mione.”

Returning your squeeze, she smiled. “I figured you could use a break from that inquisitive lot. They can be a bit much, altogether at once. Merlin knows how they’ll react when I tell them about Ron and me.” The two of you looked at each other in stunned silence before bursting into laughter. Hermione laughed at the imaginary image of shock and disbelief she imagined would appear on Ginny’s face. You laughed, however, at the thought that anyone could be unaware to the obvious affection shared between the couple. You doubted that Filch, perhaps the most oblivious man to ever inhabit Hogwarts, couldn’t see the feelings that had steadily been growing between Hermione and Ron since their first year. Feelings you had yet to experience at Hogwarts, despite your desperate desire to.

As if sensing your thoughts, Hermione peered into your face before softly speaking, “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? I won’t push you or anything, but I just want you to know you have an ear if you want one.”

Considering her words, you peered at the ceiling that seemed miles away. Of all the people you knew at Hogwarts, Hermione might have been the best to unburden yourself to.

You turned to look at her before speaking. “Well, it’s like this. Take Lee Jordan for example—when he asked me out, he found me after Defense Against the Dark Arts and just said, ‘Want to go out sometime, L/N?’ And that’s it! I mean, it took him all of four seconds to ask—and I don’t know…I asked him why he wanted to go out with me—which let me tell you he gave me quite a funny look because of my question—before he said, ‘Well, you’re fit and nice.’    

Hermione laughed at Lee’s simplistic answer before you continued. “Don’t get me wrong, it was a fine answer, and I appreciated the ‘fit’ part especially,” you said, winking at Hermione, “But that was the whole exchange. No real effort, no deep interest in me. It was simple.”

Hermione smiled at you, “But you don’t want simple, do you?”

You shrugged. “I guess not? Believe me, I don’t want a live performance where the man of my dreams serenades me with a homemade song listing my manifold of attractions.” This time you joined Hermione in her laughter. “I’d rather die on the spot, honestly, than endure that, but the point is I don’t want to be asked out just to be asked out. I want someone who’s thought about it, someone who’s noticed the little things about me, and lets me know that he has noticed them. I want to be wooed, goddammit!”

Hermione pealed in laughter for a solid minute before she managed to catch her breath. Smiling, she replied, “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be ‘wooed’, Y/n. Godric knows Ron could stand to do a bit more ‘wooing’ when it comes to us.”

Turning your body fully to Hermione, you took her hands into yours, earnestly. “You don’t think I’m asking for too much? Being too high maintenance? I mean, I suppose we are young and still learning after all and—”

“Y/n, no. There is nothing wrong with wanting to know if someone truly likes you and wanting them to show it.” She squeezed your hands in assurance.

“Are you positively sure, because honestly—”

“I am absolutely sure, Y/n.”

“One hundred percent sure?”

“What do you think absolute means, Y/n?”

“…Point taken, ‘Mione.”

“Now then,” she said, standing and dragging you along with her, “we really must head off to Potions if we don’t want to be late.”

Trotting behind her, you smiled at your ever-punctual friend, “Yes ma’am.”