#Now they won’t say quidditch | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theostrophywife · 3 months

Text

azúcar.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader.

song inspiration: baby by madison beer.

author's note: benjamin being active on tiktok is dangerous for my health. i actually feel like i'm about to crawl on the ceiling from how badly i want this man. literally tweaking. anyways, enjoy 😊

There were a lot of quidditch related superstitions you were willing to put up with.

Wearing the same socks during every match. Kissing your boyfriend good luck before every game. Even the rowdy common room parties that you and Mattheo often snuck out of to have a celebration of your own was a tradition you welcomed with open arms.

But this was not one of them.

“It’s absolutely absurd,” Pansy huffed, her sleek black hair grazing her chin as she tucked her legs underneath her on the velvet couch. “Blaise has lost his mind.”

“Sounds like you’re the one losing it, Pans.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “You would too if your boyfriend suddenly announced a sex ban as part of some weird quidditch superstition.”

Since the start of the season, the quidditch team had taken a few hits. Usually, the boys dominated the other houses, but they barely won against Hufflepuff and came to a draw against Ravenclaw during the last game. Ending in a tie was apparently the last straw because the day after the match, Blaise told Pansy that the team had taken a pact of celibacy.

For some deranged reason, the boys believed that abstaining from sex for a week would help them secure a win for the rematch on Friday. For the next five days, they intended to sleep, breathe, and eat quidditch. Apparently, your feminine wiles would have to be set aside for the meantime. As if sex were the problem and not their constant drinking and partying, which probably contributed to their lack of focus as a whole. Not that the boys would listen to common sense at this point.

You scoffed. “Please, Mattheo wouldn’t last a day without sex let alone a whole week.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Pansy said rather bitterly, picking at the cushion in her lap. “The lot of them are taking this entirely too seriously. Blaise won’t even allow himself to be in a room alone with me.”

”Well, Zabini has a surprising amount of self-control. Mattheo, on the other hand, is perpetually horny. There’s no way that he agreed to such a ridiculous pact.”

“Lucky you,” your best friend said with a long suffering sigh.

You nudged her knee with your foot and smiled mischievously. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m more than willing to help. Blaise may be disciplined, but he’s also just a man. What do you say we pop into the village? I think I saw a lace emerald lingerie set that had your name all over it.”

Pansy perked up at that. “I knew I came to the right person.”

Your best friend smiled as you hooked your arm through her elbow. “Of course you did. Now come on, let’s bring Zabini to his knees.”

Sprawled out on Mattheo’s bed, you flicked through the pages of your novel and waited for your boyfriend to return from practice. The trip to Hogsmeade had been a complete success. Just as you suspected, the little set you glimpsed through the lingerie store window looked absolutely stunning on Pansy. Blaise didn’t stand a chance.

As a matter of fact, you’d given the two of them privacy tonight. They were due for a study session at your shared dorm tonight, but you quietly slipped out in the midst of their heated argument about the Goblin Rebellion and happily skipped off to your boyfriend’s room.

Given the late hour, Mattheo was due back any second now. As if summoning him from your thoughts alone, your boyfriend sauntered into the room, looking sweaty and sexy from running though drills all afternoon. Mattheo grinned the second he spotted you on his bed.

“Hi, princesa,” he greeted, his voice low and husky.

”Hi, Matty.” You propped yourself up on your elbows and smiled. “How was practice?”

“Absolutely fucking brutal,” Mattheo grunted as he pulled off his shoes. “Theo clobbered the fuck out of me, but I suppose it’s better him than the Ravenclaws. Mark my words, we’re going to beat those twats come Friday.”

“I don’t doubt it, babe.” You pushed off the mattress and scooted closer to him.

Mattheo licked his lips as you neared, breath hitching as you brushed his damp curls off of his forehead. You smirked and leaned in for a kiss. At the last second, Mattheo turned sharply, causing the kiss to land on his cheek instead of his lips.

“I’m all sweaty,” he explained. You quirked a brow. Sweat, dirt, and grime had never stopped the two of you before, but you brushed it off. He was probably just wound up about winning. Mattheo smiled apologetically and kissed your temple. “Let me shower first and then we can cuddle, okay?’

You made the mistake of looking into those big, brown eyes. Damn him and his chocolate eyed gaze. The twat knew it was your weakness.

“Fine,” you said as you crawled underneath the covers. “But hurry up, I’m getting tired.”

Ten minutes later, you were fully engrossed in your book again. Just as it reached a particularly steamy scene, the door swung open, revealing a half-naked Mattheo. The white towel wrapped precariously around his trim waist gave you a perfect view of his toned chest and ripped abs, beads of water clinging onto his glistening skin like rain drops. You bit your lip as he tugged on a clean pair of boxers over his legs, cocking your head to appreciate the curve of his arse before he slipped into his sweatpants.

Unaware of your ogling, Mattheo climbed into bed and wrapped his arms around you. “What are you reading, mi amor?”

“Nothing that can’t wait,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss your boyfriend.

This time, Mattheo gladly accepted the kiss. His lips slanted over yours, sighing softly as you melted into him. Your kisses were soft and sweet, punctuated by cute little pecks that had your boyfriend smiling against your mouth. You took the opportunity to slide your tongue against his, making Mattheo groan as his fingers slipped through your hair.

“Damn, mami. You missed me that much?”

You rolled your eyes at his cocky smirk while you climbed into his lap and straddled him. Mattheo gripped your hips, moaning as your lips latched onto his neck. His pretty brown eyes rolled back as you left a trail of kisses along the column of his throat. You raked your nails along his chest, dragging red lines down to his abs, and tracing his happy trail as he captured your lips once more. Mattheo let out a choked groan as you tugged at his waistband. To your surprise, he grabbed your wrist and blinked up at you.

“Y/N…” Mattheo said breathlessly. “Maybe we should…maybe we should go to sleep.” His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he tried and failed to swallow his own words.

You raised a brow and settled over his lap, squirming against his hard length as Mattheo bit his lip. “You want to go to sleep? Right now? While I’m on top of you and willing to do whatever you want?”

Your boyfriend looked pained. Conflict was evident on his face. Without a word, Mattheo nodded.

“Oh my god,” you blurted in disbelief. “You agreed to that stupid sex ban, didn’t you?”

Mattheo groaned. “Only for a week, love. We really need to win this match.”

You scoffed. This was absolutely ridiculous. “I know you, Mattheo. You aren’t going to last a week.”

“Hey! Have a little faith in me.”

Rolling off of him, you crossed your arms against your chest. “First of all, you didn’t even ask me if I’d be okay with it.”

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say. With a shit-eating grin, Mattheo cocked his head at you. “It sounds to me like you’re the one who can’t last a week, princesa.”

“Please,” you said with an eye roll. “I have my book boyfriends to keep me company. I can channel all my sexual energy into reading smut. You, on the other hand? You can’t even make it through class without dragging me into a broom closet.”

Faster than you thought possible, Mattheo flipped you onto your back and pinned you to the mattress. A cocky smirk curved against his lips as he trailed them down your neck. “Oh?” he hummed, kissing the sweet spot just below your ear, his hand gripping the inside of your thigh, making you press your legs together to suppress the need. The bloody bastard. “But can your book boyfriends touch you like I can?”

Channeling every ounce of self-control within you, a calm and unbothered expression clicked into place like a mask. You tugged at his curls, forcing him away from your neck. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about me, Matty. I’ll be just fine.” Mattheo released a choked groan when you palmed the front of his boxers. He twitched at your touch, his cock painfully hard. “Looks like you’re not doing too hot, though. Let me know if you need help. You know I’d be more than happy to give you relief, baby.”

Mattheo cursed under his breath as his own plan backfired on him. Blood rushed down to his cock as you squeezed gently, making him harder and hornier than ever. You chuckled darkly as he grinded against your hand. With one last squeeze, you kissed his cheek and peeled yourself away from his bed.

“You know where to find me, papi.”

He watched in disbelief as you gathered your things, cute little ass swaying farther and farther away from him as you hauled your bag over your shoulder. “You’re seriously leaving?”

You smirked and waved at your boyfriend as you pulled the door open. “I have a hot date with my romance novel. Good luck with your pact, babe. You’ll need it.”

Merlin, Mattheo was going out of his fucking mind.

For Salazar’s sake, he was starting to get the shakes and it had only been two days since he last had sex. Granted, it felt like an eternity since you were more than determined to get your boyfriend to break. Could lack of sex actually drive a person to the brink of insanity? Mattheo was pretty convinced that the answer was yes as he gaped at the lacy red bra peeking out under your white blouse.

Had your clothes shrunk in the wash? Mattheo could’ve sworn that your shirt hadn’t been that tight before. You were nearly bursting out of it and the view of your tits pressed together as you leaned across the table to steal a blueberry off of his plate made his mouth water and his dick hard.

“Stay strong, Riddle,” Theo whispered beside him. “We’ve got this.”

Never in his life had he wanted to throttle Theo more. The only thing Mattheo had at the moment was a painful fucking boner. Three more days. That’s all he had to endure before they called off this stupid sex pact.

He could make it. Couldn’t he?

As he looked up at you sucking on a strawberry, Mattheo’s confident wavered. You were truly testing what very little self control that he possessed. You were right when you said that your boyfriend couldn’t last a single class without dragging you into an empty broom closet. You were just so pretty and sexy and hot and that was when you weren’t trying.

Now that you were determined to tease the fuck out of him, Mattheo didn’t stand a chance.

All day, you focused on making his life an absolute living hell. Perching on his lap, fixing his tie, smiling prettily while you brushed his curls back and left glossy kiss prints all over his cheeks. His hands were in permanent fists, fingernails digging into the flesh of his palm so deeply that he wouldn’t be surprised to find himself bleeding. This was torture. Cruel and unusual punishment.

The final straw came when the two of you were studying in the library later that night. Bouncing his leg, Mattheo forced himself to pay attention to the Ancient Runes textbook in front of him instead of ogling you from across the table. It wasn’t working though. Every few minutes, he caught himself glancing up at you. Your lips, your eyes, your hair. There was nothing sexual about you taking notes yet he was so turned on that he felt dizzy.

Mattheo lowered his head, trying to keep cool. When he looked back up, you were no longer in your seat. Instead, you were reaching for a book on the shelves behind you. Whatever you were looking for was on the lowest shelves, so you bent down to retrieve it. When you did, your skirt rode up, revealing that you weren’t wearing any underwear. Mattheo hissed, scrambling to pull your skirt down.

”What in Salazar’s name are you doing, Y/N?” Your boyfriend gripped your elbow, anger and frustration radiating off of him in waves.

You blinked up at him, putting on an innocent smile. “Oh!” you exclaimed, placing a hand on Mattheo’s chest. “Did I forget to wear underwear? Silly me.”

Your boyfriend groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. He muttered something under his breath repeatedly. Breathing exercises. You bit back a smirk.

On his third count to ten, Mattheo finally opened his eyes. Without a word, he gathered your belongings and hauled you out of the library. He didn’t speak until the two of you were back in the dungeons.

“I’m going to study in my room,” Mattheo declared as he handed you your book bag. “You’ll study in yours.”

You grinned. “Oh, Matty. We both know the only thing you’ll be studying is your cock in your hand.” Mattheo tensed as you traced a finger down his jawline. “What a shame. I’d be more than willing to put an end to your misery if you just admit that the pact is stupid.”

For Salazar’s fucking sake. Mattheo was so close to calling this whole thing off. He wanted you. Screaming underneath him. Crying from pleasure. Moaning his name. But he couldn’t. He had to stay strong.

Mattheo sighed and kissed your temple. “Good night, mi amor. I love you. Even though you’re determined to drive me fucking mental.”

You smiled before pulling him in by his tie. Mattheo groaned as you placed a sweet kiss on his lips, barely giving him a taste of what he wanted. “Love you too, Matty. Sleep tight. I hope you dream of me tonight.”

With that, he watched you saunter off in the direction of your dorm, skipping through the common room without a care in the world. Mattheo stared up at the ceiling and counted to ten again.

Friday could not come any fucking faster.

You had to admit that you were impressed. Your boyfriend had miraculously survived an entire week without sex.

Despite your best efforts to thwart the stupid pact, Mattheo stayed true to his word. A pretty impressive feat given the fact that you’d practically thrown everything you had into seducing him. Sitting on his lap, licking your lips while he talked, kissing that sweet spot below his jaw, wearing your clothes shorter and tighter than ever, and even sleeping in his favorite silk red set, which you knew was particularly hard for him if the erection pressed against your back all night was any indication.

Still, Mattheo withstood all of your attempts.

You would’ve been upset had it not been for the fact that Mattheo looked absolutely pained by the whole ordeal. This entire week, his fists were permanently clenched at his side, his jaw locking and unlocking with every suggestive comment you threw his way, his eyes flickering over your body, groaning in frustration as he tortured himself by looking at what he couldn’t have.

It was amusing to watch your boyfriend twitch at your every move. As you predicted, you fared better than Mattheo had. After all, you had a wild imagination and a collection of toys to hold you over. That wasn’t to say that you weren’t needy and aching for him, but you had ways of coping.

“I’m so fucking glad it’s Friday,” Pansy grumbled beside you as she took a swig from her flask.

After the whole bring Zabini to his knees plan failed, she’d been crankier than ever. Neither one of you expected either of your boyfriends to even make it this far without caving at least once.

“Me too, babe. As much as I’m rooting for our boys, I can’t wait for this bloody game to be over. Win or lose, I know the sex is going to be insane.”

Your best friend smirked as she handed you the firewhisky. “I’ll cheers to that, babe.”

Surprisingly, the tension and frustration helped the boys play better than ever. They were ruthless on the field. Theo and Enzo were vicious as they defended the goalposts, giving way for Blaise and Mattheo to chase after the opposing beaters, nearly taking some poor bloke’s head off with a bludger. You almost felt bad for the Ravenclaws.

When Draco caught the snitch, you cheered loudly. You and Pansy screamed until your throat felt raw and hoarse by the time the game was officially called. The two of you swayed as you descended from the stands, slightly inebriated from your generous swigs, but you didn’t mind. The liquor kept you warm and served as preparation for a night of drinking and debauchery for the common room party.

Blaise wasn’t at all surprised that you and Pansy pregamed. In fact, he took the flask and downed the rest before tugging his girlfriend towards the castle.

“Have fun, you crazy kids!”

Zabini chuckled. “Oh, we will. By the way, your boyfriend’s waiting for you in the locker room.”

With a conspiratorial wink, Blaise wished you good luck as Pansy grinned from ear to ear. You chuckled before making your way over to the locker room. The doors opened, revealing a very smug looking Theo. With a frown, you swatted the back of his head.

“Ow!” The brunette exclaimed, rubbing his newly acquired injury. “What was that for?”

“For encouraging my boyfriend to agree to this stupid sex ban.” You crossed your arms and glared at your friend. “I know it was your idea, Theodore.”

“Hey! We won the game, didn’t we? So obviously, my idea was brilliant.”

“It was just dumb luck,” you replied with a scoff. “Honestly, I didn’t think you guys would take it so seriously. Especially you. You’re even worse than Mattheo. Celibacy for a week must’ve been hell, huh?”

Theo shifted his weight, looking abashed. You narrowed your eyes at him as you read the guilt in his body language. “You little weasel! You caved, didn’t you?”

“There was this really hot Ravenclaw…”

“With the opposing team, too? You’re shameless, Nott.”

“Please don’t tell the guys.” He looked genuinely contrite as he pleaded with his eyes. “They’ll murder me if they knew that I couldn’t even stick to my own pact.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine, but you owe me big time.”

Theo smiled before leaning over to kiss your cheek. “You’re the best. I’d say see you at the party, but with how tense and insane your boyfriend has been, I probably won’t see you two for the next few days.”

“I wonder who’s fault that is.”

“The pact was my idea. Teasing him was yours. Honestly, he almost stabbed a fork through my hand because you bent over in front of him.” He smirked as he held the door open. “You’ve got that man on a tight leash.”

You fought a smile. “Leave before I get the urge to hit you again.” Theo nodded, making his way out. “Oh, and congratulations on the win.”

After a cheeky wink, Theo was gone. Leaving you to find your boyfriend on your own. When you rounded the corner, you could hear the sound of water running echoing off the tiled walls. You ventured farther in the stalls and found Mattheo standing underneath the scalding hot shower, tipping his head back against the spray. With a smile, you leaned against the wall and admired your boyfriend. Merlin, he really was beautiful.

Mattheo was a sight to behold; biceps flexing, abs taut, and back muscles tense as he washed away the sweat and grime. Your gaze trailed down to his trim waist, licking your lips as your eyes snagged on his backside. The longing sigh you released gave you away.

Water glistened on his skin as Mattheo looked over his shoulder, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he surveyed you. Your boyfriend didn’t bother covering himself as he sauntered over to you. His chocolate brown eyes roamed over your body, smiling softly when he saw that you were wearing one of his jerseys. Mattheo traced over his surname embroidered right above your heart.

“The Riddle name looks good on you, mi amor,” he whispered huskily, backing you against the tile. “I can’t wait to make it official one day.”

You hummed while you tangled a wet curl between your fingers. “Oh? That won’t be happening any time soon, Matty.” Mattheo frowned as you caressed his cheek. “Not with the way you’ve neglected me this week.”

“Don’t be like that. You know it was hell for me, princesa.”

“I know,” you said with a grin. “I’m just teasing you. In reality, I’m kind of impressed. You didn’t cave once even when I threw everything I had at you. You were so good, baby. You crushed those Ravenclaws too.” Mattheo groaned as you kissed his jaw, nipping at his sweet spot. “Maybe the pact wasn’t so stupid after all.”

Your boyfriend groaned as he gripped your hips and pinned you against the wall. “Oh, I won’t be doing that shit again.” Mattheo rested his hand on the base of your throat, eyes black and filled with lust as he squeezed. “It was torture not to touch you.”

When you spoke, your voice sounded husky and seductive thanks to his possessive hold. “Could’ve fooled me. You seemed perfectly in control. So much so that maybe we should extend it another week. Abstinence really helps clear the mind, doesn’t it, baby?”

Mattheo chuckled darkly. He knew you were baiting him. You weren’t used to not getting what you wanted in your relationship. Your boyfriend was well aware that he spoiled you rotten. You were going to make him work for it tonight, but he didn’t mind. In fact, the idea thrilled him. He wouldn’t have been dating you if he wasn’t up to the challenge.

Without warning, Mattheo tugged you into the shower, making you squeal as the water soaked your clothes. He wasted no time before crashing his lips onto yours, claiming you in a starved and possessive way that had you gasping for breath. Your boyfriend was frantic as he hoisted you up and wrapped your legs around his waist.

Mattheo sucked harshly at your flesh, his dark chuckle a seductive caress against your skin. You groaned as he grinded his cock against your clothed pussy, which was already throbbing and aching for him. “Brace yourself, sweetheart. We have a whole week to make up for and we’re not leaving here until you’re properly punished for teasing me like the little brat that you are.”

You flashed him a saccharine smile. “Do your worst, baby.”

“You’ll regret that, mami.”

With a wicked grin, Mattheo slid your panties to the side and teased along your folds. He hissed when he felt how soaked you were, practically dripping down his fingers as he eased one into your pussy. You bit down on your lip as the delicious pressure awakened a familiar heat in your core.

“Not so brave now, are you?” Your boyfriend taunted as he slowly fingered you. After going without, you were embarrassed to find that a simple touch was enough to set your teeth on edge. “This is payback, baby. Wearing those tiny little shirts with your lace bra peeking out. Bending over in front of me knowing that you had no panties on. Grinding on my lap and making me so fucking hard that I almost sprained my wrist wanking off in the restroom like a madman.”

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.” You rasped, groaning as Mattheo picked up the pace. “Not if this is what I get in return. I like when you’re rough, Matty. It makes me wet.”

Your head lolled back as he added another finger, curving them inside of you and reaching that spongy spot that had you seeing stars.

“Good,” Mattheo whispered as he nibbled at your earlobe. “Because I’m about to fuck you until you can’t walk.”

The filthy words sent you over the edge. Mattheo flicked his thumb over your swollen clit and you clenched around his fingers. “I can feel you squeezing me, pretty girl. So fucking greedy, hm?”

You let out a choked moan. Mattheo grabbed your wrist and slid your hand down his front. “Do you feel that, princesa? I’ve been hard as fuck for you all week. Are you gonna be a good girl and help me out?”

“Yes,” you breathed out. “Let me take care of you, papi.”

Mattheo twitched in your hand as you gripped him, tugging as he watched you with lust blown eyes. The intensity of his stare made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“I thought about this while getting myself off this week. Your hands. Your eyes. Your voice.”

“I thought about you, too,” you confessed. “But it doesn’t compare to the real thing. God, you’re fucking sexy.” You rubbed your thumb over his tip, rubbing his precum over his head. Mattheo whimpered against your neck. “I missed you whimpering for me.”

“I don’t whimper,” Mattheo countered.

You raised a brow and picked up the pace, working him until his eyes rolled back. Despite his denial, Mattheo whimpered even louder this time.

“You’re playing dirty, baby.”

“I thought you liked it dirty, Matty.”

“I do,” he said with a smirk before curving his long fingers inside of you. You shuddered as he hit that sweet spot. “Now come on, pretty girl. Come with me.”

You nodded, picking up the pace and groaning as Mattheo pulled you in for a sloppy kiss. He licked the roof of your mouth, shuddering as he bucked into your hand. You tugged at him, coaxing him to cum as he panted against your neck.

“Fuck. Don’t stop, baby. I’m so fucking close.”

“Me too, Matty,” you whimpered, grinding against his fingers to take more.

The orgasm crackled over you like a lightning strike, singing your veins with heat as your boyfriend continued to fuck you with his fingers. Mattheo wasn’t satisfied with one orgasm. He coaxed another out of you, laughing as you greedily bucked against his hand, biting into his shoulder while the second wave hit.

By the time your third orgasm rolled around, you genuinely felt as though you’d left your own body. Mattheo only relented when your eyes rolled back and your legs trembled, cries of his name falling sweetly from your lips.

“Tú eres dulce como el azúcar.”

You opened your eyes slowly and found Mattheo lapping up your cum, swirling and sucking his fingers clean with a smirk. You’re sweet like sugar. Though the words were seemingly innocent, Mattheo was anything but. Your boyfriend knew exactly how much it turned you on when he spoke Spanish and he was definitely using it to his advantage.

“That was just the appetizer, baby. Got you all warmed up for my cock. Think you can take it, Y/N?”

“I’ve been waiting all week,” you responded hoarsely.

“It’s worth the wait,” Mattheo declared cockily as he flipped you over. He stripped you of your clothes, carelessly tossing them behind his shoulder while he positioned your hands on the tiled wall. You groaned as he bent you at an angle, smacking your ass before he lined up behind you. “I promise to fucking ruin you, mi pinche puta.”

Anticipation coiled in your stomach as Mattheo sank in slowly. Both of you groaned as he slid all the way in, twitching as he stuffed you full. It was familiar yet new at the same time. It had always been a tight fit, but given your involuntary break, you could feel yourself struggling to adjust to his size once again.

Mattheo gripped your hips, leaving bruises in his wake as he slid all the way out. You whined at the loss, but it wasn’t long before he thrusted all the way back in, knocking the air out of your lungs as he set a punishing pace. You braced yourself against the tile as he spread your legs further apart, allowing him to hit an even deeper angle.

“Oh fuck, how do you always feel so good?” Mattheo grunted as his hips snapped against your ass, brutally burying himself inside of your pussy over and over again. “You were made for me, princesa. We’re perfect together.”

”Matty, baby, please…”

You keened as Mattheo tugged you by the hair, kissing you sloppily as he continued to ruin you. He cupped your tits, flicking his thumb over your nipples as he squeezed your flesh between his rough, calloused hands. Mattheo kneaded your breasts and used the momentum to drive deeper. His palm trailed down your torso, pressing against your stomach to feel himself moving with each thrust.

Tears streaked your cheeks as your eyes rolled back. “Oh gods. Fuck me. Right there, baby. You fill me up so good. I love being full of you.”

“Yeah?” Mattheo drawled as his hand crawled up your throat. “You like when I fuck you rough? Deep down, you just want to be treated like a slut. Don’t you, princess?”

“I do,” you breathed, groaning as Mattheo squeezed your neck. “But I’m only a slut for you, Mattheo.”

“Damn fucking right, baby.” He said proudly. “This pussy is mine. All fucking mine.”

You clenched, squeezing him so tightly that Mattheo felt like he might cum then and there. “So greedy. Milking me fucking dry. God, you’re perfect. Mi princesa, mi vida, mi amor.” Your boyfriend shuddered as you grinded against him, picking up the momentum as the two of you neared euphoria. “That’s it, baby. Just like that. Fuck, I’m gonna cum—“

”Cum inside me, Matty. I want to feel you. I want all of it.”

Mattheo cursed, his body seizing as he came with a loud cry. The sensation of him filling you to the brim, his hot cum dripping out of you and coating the inside of your thighs was enough to send you over the edge. You trembled as the orgasm hit you all at once and nearly passed out from the sheer force of it.

Fortunately, strong arms wrapped around you before your legs could give out from underneath you. Mattheo pulled you against him, holding your trembling body as you came down from the high. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder as he cleaned you up. Your boyfriend took his time washing your body, taking great care when it came to your sensitive core.

You smiled up at him as he lathered shampoo into your hair, letting you return the favor and sighing in satisfaction as you scratched his scalp. Mattheo grinned, flashing you a lovesick smile as you rinsed the product out of his hair.

“I love you so fucking much,” he whispered softly.

“I love you more,” you countered.

”Impossible.”

After the two of you dried off, you leaned against the wall and allowed Mattheo to clothe you in his hoodie and sweats. He tied your shoes before giving you a sweet peck.

“Ready, princesa?”

You nodded and took his hand. Without the support of the solid wall, your legs wobbled as you struggled to walk. Mattheo caught you around the waist, a smirk tugging at his handsome face.

“I warned you, Y/N.” He looked entirely too smug and satisfied for your liking. “Told you I’d fuck you until you couldn’t walk.”

Your boyfriend chuckled as you rolled your eyes. “Poor baby. Don’t worry, mi amor. Let your Matty take care of you, hm?”

“I take it back. I kind of hate you right now, Mattheo.”

You squealed as he picked you up bridal style. He didn’t even break a sweat as he carried you across the field. “No, you don’t. But you can fuck me like you do.”

“Deal.”

#this came from the deepest pits of hell aka my overactive imagination #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo smut #mattheo x you #mattheo x y/n #mattheo x reader

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ellecdc · 13 days

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the poly!marauders and lily x shy!reader!!!!! I genuinely cannot handle how much I love it omg🫠🫠 would u be willing to make it a series??

maybe remus being overprotective/possessive of her before the full moon and she’s just like ???? bc she doesn’t know about his furry problem🫣 but the rest of the group are just really casual about the way he’s acting like “oh yeah he does this sometimes, just ignore it” and r is just like 🤔?? bc he literally won’t let her go and wants her by his side and lap all day!!

aaaaaah my mind got carried away after reading ur amazing fic🩷🩷

so. stinkin. cute (thoughts and prayers for our shy!reader fr)

poly!marauders + lily x shy!reader close to Remus' time of the month

CW: love bite/hickies, man-handling Remus [ik, ik]

You had been…seeing the boys and Lily for long enough now to have noticed a few peculiarities.

Black envelopes with green wax melts on the front that were delivered to Sirius were always confiscated immediately by Lily. Following the envelope's arrival, the rest of the group tended to fawn over Sirius for the rest of the day.

James was incredibly bright as a student in all subjects except Ancient Runes; prior to any quizzes or assignments, the group would play a game of “question pong” which was a twist on the muggle game ‘beer pong’ where cups were lined up and James would aim a ping pong ball and have to answer a question that was placed inside the cup that he had scored in. This amount of effort wasn’t placed into any of the others’ studies.

And what was obviously something the boys were ultimately accustomed to doing for Lily now extended to you when you couldn’t help but notice that at least one of them always escorted you to any of your classes in the dungeons.

Another peculiarity, however, seemed to centre around Remus.

Once a month, the group got a bit…sketchy before the three boys would disappear for about a day and then return basically back to normal.

Lily seemed to be accepting of these occurrences, so you opted not to concern yourself with it either; if it was something you needed to know, they’d tell you.

Right?

Because, you see, the sketchiness wasn’t just limited to their comings and goings; but rather Remus himself.

He was a tactile person, that much you knew to be true. He almost always had a hand on one of his partners, a boyfriend or a girlfriend in his lap, or an arm around someone’s shoulders.

And yes, you’d been growing increasingly accustomed to the affection.

But it seemed to you that around these bouts of…sketchiness, the affection seemed to grow into something rather possessive.

For example; it became clear to you that out of the three boys, James and Sirius were the ones who had a particular problem with Severus Snape, but during said period of said sketchiness, Remus nearly growled when he saw Lily and Snape discussing the upcoming Potions exam before he latched himself onto Lily’s side until Severus finally left.

And then at the quidditch game against Ravenclaw, a group of girls behind you, Lily, and Remus were giggling over how ‘fit the Gryffindor captain was’ which led to Remus standing abruptly, moving to lean against the railing of the Gryffindor stands to wave James over before he pressed a searing kiss to the chasers lips leaving them both rather breathless.

And then there was the party in the Ravenclaw common room for Benjy Fenwicks birthday where you, Lily, and Remus had been sitting watching James and Sirius dance with Marlene and Mary before Gilderoy Lockhart slid up behind Sirius in an attempt to dance with him. Sirius hardly had a chance to react before Remus was on the dancefloor and pulling his boyfriend into him, slotting their hips together and swaying sinfully to the beat all while maintaining eye contact with Gilderoy.

It seems important to note that Remus doesn’t dance.

All this to say, Remus got…sketchy.

But all of this had nothing on how he seemed to become around you.

You weren’t sure what caused the difference; perhaps it was because you were new to the group, perhaps it was because you were shy, or perhaps it was because he was more confident in his and the others’ roles within the dynamic. Either way, you were certain you were simply going to combust from the sheer amount of attention being devoted to you by your quietest boy.

You could hardly breathe or blink without him noticing, it seemed. And if you were within his vicinity, you were in his arms or on his lap.

Like right now…

You’d no sooner entered the Great Hall when you spotted Lily’s fiery red hair and made for the group before you were being man-handled to sit on the bench between his thighs.

“You almost missed breakfast, dove.” He offered quietly as he started preparing a plate for you right in front of your eyes.

“Jeez Moony, whatever happened to good morning.” Sirius teased as he shot you a wink.

“Morning angel.” James offered quickly as Lily smiled softly at you.

“Oh, hi! I..uhm, I’m not that hungry, Rem.” You tried, but it was apparently the wrong thing to say.

Remus’ movements hardly faltered as he continued buttering an english muffin for you, but everyone else seemed to freeze in their movements as they watched the two of you with bated breaths.

“Breakfast is important.” He said simply.

And believing he was quite close to actually hand feeding you the english muffin, you simply took it from his hands and shrunk into his chest at the attention.

You felt your heart leap both in affection and embarrassment as you felt him press his lips to your neck as you ate, looking to the other three in hopes of help or explanation, of which you received neither.

“I was wondering if you wanted to have a sleepover with me tonight?” Lily asked you as she sipped from her tea.

“Oh, I uhm…sure, that’d be nice. Is everyone going to be there?”

Remus kept his face pressed to your neck but the others shared a glance.

“No, we have a Marauders thing to attend to tonight, sweetness. Can we call dibs for the weekend?” Sirius offered, but his attempt was quickly shot down by Remus.

“Tomorrow.” He muttered from your neck as you fought the urge to shiver at the tickle of his breath.

“What about the night after that?” Lily tried again.

You let out a surprised (and perhaps nervous) squeak when Remus’ embrace tightened around your middle.

“Tomorrow.”

“Moons…” James tried, which finally got Remus’ face out from your neck in order to glare at his boyfriend.

“Tomorrow will be fine.” He proclaimed with an air of finality before he shoved his face unceremoniously back into your neck and latched his mouth to your jugular, eliciting another surprised yelp from your lips.

“How’s that for a good morning, Y/N?” Sirius asked with a wink.

You spent the rest of your breakfast wondering if this was your own personal heaven or your own personal hell.

Jury was still out by the time you left the Great Hall with a love bite displayed above the collar of your uniform.

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hogwartsfirebolt · 3 months

Text

the game’s the game

“What was going through your mind when you spotted the Snitch?”

Two camera shutters go off like lighting, but Draco doesn’t blink. It’s almost the end of the season, and he’s done a press conference every week. He’s used to them.

“Fucking finally,” he answers, and the journalists all laugh. They think he’s joking, and he can already imagine the articles they’ll publish tomorrow pronouncing him cheeky and funny, but he means it wholeheartedly. Six hours in the sky, drenched all the way through his pants in rainwater, and facing the very best player in the league? He had half a mind to jump off his broom if only to have the game end somehow.

“This is the second time you face PU and well, Harry Potter, this season,” says another reporter, a young, pretty woman with her hair pinned up and a reverent tone when she speaks Potter’s name. Like everyone. “Are you expecting to encounter him at this year’s Cup? And if so, how does that make you feel?”

Draco breathes out hard through his nose. Across the room from him, sitting at his own table against the wall opposite, Potter’s doing his own press conference. He’s wearing a hat backwards, the light blue of his team hoodie contrasting with his golden-warm skin tone. He has a hand to his chin, rubbing his short beard in thought at some question he’s being asked. Probably about just how sweet it had been to snatch that Snitch right from under Draco’s nose. He’s earnest and so gorgeous Draco can’t stand the sight of him.

“The game is the game,” Harry’s voice carries, clear and chesty, deeply masculine as he says his favorite little quote that means absolutely nothing and that fans have been yelling and tattooing on their bodies the whole season. “We don’t take any victory for granted. Coach has been running us to the ground, she won’t stop until we have that trophy in Puddlemere, and we’re doing our best to make her proud.”

“Oh, I’m certain we’ll face them at the Cup,” is what Draco answers at last. “Honestly? I think no other team comes even close. We’ll face them, and then we’ll bring the Cup home to Appleby. As Potter himself likes to say, the game is the game.”

All the cameras around him go off, the sound of Quick-Quills scrabbling and the reporters’ scandalized gasps at his use of Potter’s quote. He grins, puts his olive green Arrows cap on and stands to leave. He needs a fucking shower.

Later on, he’s sprawled on his hotel room couch, drying his hair with a towel and watching a replay of the game on the enormous television, making mental notes about his own flying, his mistakes, the times he dove too soon or hovered too low. When the screen follows the blue jersey with POTTER 7 emblazoned across the back, he looks closely, trying to spot mistakes but knowing he won’t find any. Potter’s probably the best flier of the century, and Draco loves Quidditch too much to lie to himself about that.

He’s admiring one of Potter’s physics-defying feints when there’s a knock on his door. Immediately, his heart takes up a gallop, and he has to press a hand to the center of his chest with a frown.

“Calm the fuck down, Malfoy,” he mutters. It’s a disproportionate reaction and he’s irritated with himself for it. It’s not as though it’s the first time. Or the tenth.

He pauses the game with a flick of his wand and makes his way to the door, through the archway that separates the TV room from the kitchenette. A quick look at the archway across the suite to make sure the bedroom is as he left it, and he’s at the door, taking a deep breath.

Potter’s grin is huge when Draco opens. He’s foregone all his team outwear, and is now in a familiar, worn leather jacket and a black sweater. His hair is wet, as though he rushed after his shower so he could get here quicker. Draco opens his mouth to say something, but before he figures out what, Harry pushes inside, turns around and presses him against the door, big hands gentle on Draco’s waist. Draco’s heart hasn’t gotten the “this isn’t the first or tenth time this happens,” memo, and is still running a marathon inside his chest, so he says nothing.

There’s a plastic bag in Potter’s hands. Dinner, probably, he usually brings dinner when they meet after a game. His wide smile reveals white teeth, a crooked canine that Draco knows is a baby tooth that never loosened. Round, stylish glasses cover the most intoxicating green eyes Draco has ever seen, and they’re shining with tonight’s victory. And Draco might be — definitely is — the world’s sorest loser, but he’s also the world’s biggest slut for Quidditch excellence, and he has it right here, holding him against his hotel room door.

“The game is the game?” Harry asks, amused, already leaning in, the hand on Draco’s waist moving to wrap the whole way around him and pull him close.

“Just some stupid phrase I’ve heard from a dickhead,” Draco answers, but the words hold the shape of a smile and are uttered right into a kiss there at the end.

It’s always a race at the start. They're both high from the game, still in that mindset, and it’s a competition to see who can undress quicker, who can make the other harder, who can earn the first moan and coax the first orgasm of the night. But after that first one, after Draco’s jaw aches dully and Potter is softening between his legs, everything slows down a little. Potter helps him up and they share the tacos Potter brought, watching the last minutes of the game they played earlier with Draco’s legs up on Potter’s lap, where he’s massaging his knees, his quads, making sure he’s not achy from kneeling for him.

“I really fucked that one up,” Potter comments. His tiny self on the screen just pulled out of an impossible dive at what looks like a 90 degree angle. He sounds earnest, which is the only reason Draco isn’t kicking him right in his beautiful face.

“I hate you so much. Only you would call that a fuck up.”

Potter hums, his massaging hands moving from Draco’s calf to his heel, his thumb pressing into his sole. On the screen, tiny Draco swerves a Bludger aimed to his head, and his teammate Owen is flying to him to make sure he’s alright.

“That guy is so into you,” Potter points out.

“I know. We fucked all through rookie year.”

Potter turns to look at him so fast it must hurt his neck. Draco raises an eyebrow, confused at the strong reaction.

“What?”

“I — I don’t know,” Potter says, suddenly sheepish. His hands haven’t stopped moving over Draco’s foot. Potter’s skin is dark, but Draco can still make out the blush spreading across his cheekbones. “Isn’t it weird? He’s a teammate.”

There’s something he’s not saying. It’s evident in the way he bites his bottom lip, in the way he obviously wants to look away but is too ridiculously brave to actually do it. Draco’s heart thumps inside his chest, so hard he’s sure it must be audible to Harry too.

They’ve never named this thing between them. The first time they did it, after the quarter finals one year before, with Potter’s ill advised kiss that ended with them fucking in the showers of the stadium after Potter had wiped the damn dust with Draco on the pitch, they agreed to keep it quiet, and that was the last they discussed of it. It’s going on fourteen months since then, and they’ve done it at least once a month, when the league brings them to nearby towns, and sometimes when it doesn’t and they take a quick midnight Portkey to each other to blow off some steam.

Draco had never in his life been as well-fucked as he’s been this past year, and he definitely doesn’t want to lose it. Potter’s always been honest and open with him, vocal in bed about how much he wants him, filthy in his occasional text messages when they’re apart, but he’s never given any indication that he wants anything other than exactly what they have.

“It’s not weird,” Draco says slowly, unsure of what to think of this exchange. “We stopped a while ago. I was clear that I didn’t want — that I’d rather we stayed friends and teammates, without any complications.”

“Right,” Potter says. He sounds relieved, and Draco feels like he’s three steps behind the conversation they’re having. He’s about to ask, but Potter’s fingers on his calf smooth over an old knot and he groans instead, letting his head fall back onto the couch cushion.

“That feels great,” he says, and Potter repeats the motion.

“Yeah. I think you pulled it when you made that X turn.”

The turn he made to try to beat him to the Snitch, he doesn’t say. How he had enough awareness to know Draco attempted it while diving for the Snitch himself is beyond comprehension, but Draco has long accepted that Potter is simply insane about the game. He notices everything, considers everything, takes every risk. If he weren’t a player himself, Draco knows he would be following Puddlemere and Harry wherever they played for the entire season, wearing a pale blue jersey with the number 7 on it.

“Probably,” Draco says, closing his eyes and groaning again when Harry keeps pressing the same point. After a moment, he feels something softer brushing his calf, and opens his eyes to find Harry bent over his leg, kissing a path up towards his knee. He can’t help the embarrassing little sound he makes, and Harry’s laugh is a puff against his skin as he keeps moving up, breath warm on the wet trail of his kisses up Draco’s thigh. In the background, the presenters are going crazy over a feint Harry pulled, the sound of the audience carrying all through the stadium and out of the TV speakers.

Harry has made his way high up and is kissing Draco’s birthmark, a brown, apple-sized beauty mark an inch below his groin when he lifts his head to ask, “Why didn’t you want to?”

Draco can’t believe he’s using his mouth to speak at that moment. He licks his lips, trying to make sense of the question.

“What? What are you even — ?” He tries to sit up a little, but Harry moves over him instead so they’re eye-level without Draco having to move at all.

“With Caddell. Why didn’t you want to keep seeing him?”

“Owen? Why the fuck are we talking about —,” Draco lets his head drop down onto the cushions again, a sigh punched out of him. Harry takes pity and leans forward to kiss him, lips soft over Draco’s, knowing exactly how to coax his kisses out of him the way he likes best.

“I just want to know,” Harry whispers against his lips. He’s breathless just from touching Draco, from rubbing his legs, from kissing him. Fuck, this is insane.

“I like him, but it wasn’t very exciting.” Draco says. He closes his eyes as Harry begins to kiss down his neck, and tries to really think about it, because he’s not even sure himself. “I wasn’t willing to risk our teamwork when what we had wasn’t even that … electric. I don’t know. This sounds insane.”

Harry shakes his head, his beard rubbing against Draco’s collarbone. “It doesn’t. I get it.” He bites on the delicate skin connecting neck and shoulder, licks a path down his chest. “I get electric.”

“Fuck yes you do,” Draco says, nonsensical, but he feels he can’t be blamed when Harry is brushing his lips over his nipples, broad hands moving around Draco’s body to secure a grip over his ass.

“Is this?” Harry asks, mouth nearing the V of Draco’s hips, the edge of the trail of hair leading to his crotch. “Electric?”

Draco swears, fingers running through Harry’s hair and finding a grip, hard. “If you don’t put your mouth on me right now I swear I — yes.”

He spreads his thighs to accommodate Harry between them, one hand gripping Harry’s hair and the other curled around the cushion over his head. It is electric, the way Harry knows exactly which buttons to push, sliding a finger inside him while keeping him on his tongue. He’s a prodigy in this too, the star player who knows every move in the playbook that is Draco’s body.

It feels like no time at all, no effort at all before Harry is pulling back, dragging Draco closer by the waist and working himself inside. The feel of it, the sound of them together, the look into Harry’s open gaze, his sweat dripping onto Draco’s chest and his hands underneath Draco’s back, holding him, pulling him onto him, have Draco nearing release almost too fast for his liking, but the night is young and it’s been so long that he lets himself go, a cord snapping in his core, eyes open as he watches Harry watch him come apart.

“Come on,” he says once he’s come down, lifting his hips, shifting his weight onto his shoulders. “Show me what you got, Potter.”

Harry groans and leans forward, kisses Draco’s jaw and his neck, and drives his hips faster. Draco wraps his arms around Harry’s back, moves with him as much as he can in the tight embrace, and remains close as Harry meets his own peak and tumbles down the edge.

They lie together for a couple minutes afterwards, panting into each other’s skins, basking in the afterglow.

“Some pro-athletes. We have the stamina of two eighteen year old virgins,” Draco mutters into Harry’s hair after a while, and feels Harry’s chest rumble with his laughter. The room is cast in the warm glow of the foot-lamp that stands beside the sofa they just fucked in, exactly like two eighteen year old virgins having the chance to touch for the first time in their lives.

Harry always goes boneless and slow after a good lay, so Draco eases him off his body with tenderness, a gentle hand to Harry’s chest, followed by a kiss.

“Let's go to bed, yeah?” He whispers.

Harry groans. “I don’t want to move.”

“That’s too bad, because I’m exhausted and I’m going to bed. Some idiot drove me to the ground on the pitch today.”

He stands up and shakes out his legs, testing the soreness of his muscles. There’ll be an ache tomorrow, but nothing he can’t handle.

Despite his complaint, Harry is already standing up too, coming up behind Draco, a hand finding its way to the flat of his belly, his forehead on Draco’s shoulder as though he can’t bear not to touch him for even a second.

“Bed it is,” he declares against the skin of Draco’s shoulder, sounding halfway asleep already. Draco huffs a laugh and pulls him towards the bedroom, pausing at the kitchenette to grab two glasses of water that he watches Harry drink in three gulps, a couple drops sliding down the sides of his mouth, into his beard and down his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“What?” He asks when he catches Draco watching him, and Draco shakes his head and pulls him to bed. He’s so handsome it’s genuinely upsetting sometimes. Draco thinks he’d throw a tantrum about it daily if it weren’t for the fact that he gets to touch him.

They try their best, but they don’t manage a second round before their eyes fall shut, tucked into each other like two hands cupped under a stream of water, tumbling into a satisfied, exhausted sleep.

Harry wakes him with a kiss before daybreak, the last of the night chilling the room and puckering Draco’s skin.

“Do you have to go already?” Draco asks, one eye still closed and a hand curled possessively around Harry’s bicep, not entirely on purpose.

Harry shakes his head, kisses him again with a gentleness that is meant to go nowhere but extend this kiss, warm and sweet.

“I thought we could talk.”

Draco is nodding before fully grasping the meaning, but even once he does he’s not tempted to back away. Must be the night, still cocooning them, must be Harry’s arms around him that are making him brave, but he’s not nervous anymore, not now that he’s remembered what they’re like, together.

“It is electric,” he says, suspecting that’s what Harry wants to talk about. “It’s always electric with you.”

The smile blooms slowly, lighting up Harry’s face from within, his beautiful eyes, unhidden this early in the morning, his glasses still on the bedside table. Harry sits up a little, clears his throat. It seems like he’s been gearing up for this, he’s squaring his shoulders the way he does before trying a dangerous feint, before performing a play that will have Draco biting dust. This insane, wonder of an athlete. Draco forces himself to shake the last of the sleep away, to focus on him, on what he wants to say.

“I know that … so many of us want you,” Harry starts. “On your team, on mine, the whole league, actually. But I —”

He looks like he’s stating an absolute truth, like he has irrefutable proof, and Draco is taken aback. He knows some of the guys find him attractive, but that’s not the same as being wanted. He shakes his head. “What? Where did you get that?”

“I’ve talked about it with the guys, but that’s not the point,” he adds hurriedly when he sees his eyes widen. Draco hasn’t said a word to anyone, not out of shame, but out of sureness that they were sneaking around, that they were making it a point to hide. Apparently, he was wrong. Harry continues, “What I want to say is … I know we’ve not agreed on anything, that you’re free to want others, be with whoever you want to be with. I thought that you knew where I stood, that if you weren’t saying anything it was because you didn’t want the same thing I did, but it’s been brought to my attention that if I’ve not made an honest offer, I can’t assume you’re saying no.”

Draco’s heart is hammering inside his chest, inside his throat. He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but if he’s right, it seems Harry is saying …

“I don’t want this to be a once a month thing. I want to bring you home, I want you to meet my family, and I want the guys to know that I’m saying no to all the people they set me up with because I’m taken and completely uninterested in anyone else. Are you … is that something you want, too? I know you might have better offers, but I – ”

The covers crinkle under Draco’s knees as he sits up, throws a leg over Harry’s body so he can fully sit on his lap and brings him forward by the neck.

“You beautiful idiot. What could be a better offer? Why would I care about any other offers when I have the best one right here?”

They’re kissing, and Harry’s gasping, and Draco’s frenzied heart pounds against his sternum. He nods into the kiss, feels dizzy with how much he wants what’s being offered. Fuck. There’s nothing he wants more.

Harry pulls back a little, whispers: “Does this mean we’re — ?”

“Yes, fuck. It’s — The game’s the game.”

“What — That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Shut up. It’s your quote.”

Then they’re laughing into a new kiss, and it’s not the first, or even the tenth time they’re together like this, but Draco’s heart still goes crazy for this man, for his unlimited talent, his openness, his electric company. Quarter finals are coming up, then semis, then they might meet again on the pitch and Draco might lose and throw a strop and want to tear the hair out of his head over the beautiful Quidditch Harry plays, and then they’ll get to go home and celebrate a victory. No matter who takes the trophy. That’ll be the game.

Read On Ao3

#quidditch rivals but ohh they’re secret lovers bet NOBODY saw that coming #kinda unsure about the tone shift at the end but ITS LATE I’m sorry ok #I just wanted earnest Harry which is MY FAVORITW THING #drarry #drarry fic #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #my writing #mywriting

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bobluvbot · 2 months

Text

late night cravings

pairing: sirius black x afab!reader summary: you sneak off the night for a cheeky midnight snack, hoping sirius won’t notice (spoiler alert: he does, and he’s sulky about it) wc: 4k cw: pregnancy & baby talk, descriptions of food and eating, brief allusions to sex (not directly stated), no physical traits of reader specified but sirius can hold things out of reader’s reach a/n: so i had a lengthy angst fic for sirius’s debut on my blog and im halfway done on it but i cant seem to finish it bc it sends me to a depressing spiral each time <33333 so pls enjoy a very self-indulgent domestic excessively fluffy blurb with my beloved <33333 p.s this is not proofread so plz ignore mistakes ty <3

opening the tomato salsa jar turned out to be the hardest part.

back in bed, you thought the trickiest part of your late night escapade from sirius black was his long limbs wound up tight with yours, even in low light of the small nightlight in the corner, you could still make out the intricate script and designs following the curves and dips of his strong arms, holding you close to his chest.

you had it committed to memory by now, having explored sirius’s body well enough to memorize the way his skin feels against yours, with heartbeats and breaths falling in sync without much effort.

judging by the way his breathing gets heavy after every exhale and the little snores that escape in between, you knew he was beyond knackered. it was day five of sirius’s new job as an deputy director at the auror office. the day he learned about the promotion was pure unadulterated happiness. after letting you know through an express owl, you mustered up enough vigor available to your seven months pregnant self to get out of the house and go to the local shops to get party supplies and food to celebrate sirius’s achievement.

Coming in third out of the list of things he genuinely loved in this life, after you and his luscious locks of course, was his job as an auror. young sirius had never thought in his wildest dreams that he’d work at the ministry, much less actually enjoy it. can’t really blame sixteen year old sirius, starting an underground rock band with the marauders seemed like the perfect thing to do after gruelling hours of studying at hogwarts.

defense against the dark arts came to him naturally, with some counterspells like second nature to him as being exposed with use of dark magic young gave him no choice but to grow up quickly and defend himself from the excruciating pain or the mind control that was from his own family’s doing. Winning the first wizarding war alongside his friends and found family has solidified sirius’s calling in eradicating the use of dark magic and making sure the next generation can have a safe and normal life without the looming threat of a megalomaniac sorting people with their blood status and taking over the wizarding world.

that night, sirius walked into a dark and eerily quiet home that had his senses on overdrive. but when the lights turned on and he saw familiar faces of his loved ones all beaming with pride, and there you were in the center, looking ethereal and round and all his, with his favorite red velvet cake on hand and a ridiculously big balloon that says “congratulations” tied to the candle, he could have melted in a syrupy mess of gooey happiness right then and there if he hadn’t caught himself together last minute.

Sirius had thought– that after you agreeing to go on one date with him to hogsmeade, winning the quidditch cup and seeing the proud look on minerva’s face, going home for christmas break and euphemia welcoming him with a kiss on the cheek and a warm hug, remus teaching at the very same classroom you all were in years back, james and lily’s first kiss at the altar, holding little baby harry in his arms, you walking down the aisle with a bouquet of peonies in the most beautiful dress, and when you held his hand that one night and told him that you were expecting—- that he knew of love. but you do something extraordinary that has him scrambling to add to the endless list of why you’re the love of his life. he was so focused on you that he wasn’t prepared to catch pure muscle of james’s body as he flung himself to tackle his best friend in a hug. luckily, remus with a party hat was aptly standing between a toppling sirius and the living room wall, and he singlehandedly saved the two from creating a huge hole in the drywall.

this was the life, sirius had thought after many hours of partying celebrating and eating, when he laid beside you in bed, limbs tangled, sated and dizzy and warm as you both came down from your highs. and he gets to spend it with you.

but as fun and exciting sirius’s new job is, it entailed an increased amount of responsibility as he was assisting the head auror. his least favorite part of the job was the boatloads of paperwork he has to deal with. An express owl almost dropped a howler letter into the soup you were making for dinner earlier that day and you opened it up panicking thinking it was an emergency. But no, it was just sirius whining that his hand hurt and is about to fall off and that he needs you to kiss it better.

You did eventually, and one thing led to another and here you were, tucked in your husband’s warm embrace. you could stay here forever, only separating to drink water and bathroom trips, but the gnawing urge to eat something savory, sweet, tangy, and crunchy has possessed your entire being, the only way to quell it was to get up and go to the kitchen. the baby doesn’t seem to have a semblance of time yet, a fact you both envied and despised, because the clock on your nightstand said it was 3:48am in bold red numbers. A few months ago, you’d never be caught dead awake at this time, taking your precious sleep time seriously. The man himself would poke fun at you and say you’d gladly sleep through an earthquake or a housefire just as long as you get your seven to eight hours of sleep per day, and despite of your assumed role of contradicting and arguing with spontaneous and stubborn sirius, you had to agree.

But this was not about you anymore, or at least not quite yet for a good seventeen years, so you untangle yourself from sirius and your perfectly warm and cool side of the bed and waddle down the carpeted stairs, careful not to set foot on the creaky step that might risk waking sirius up. You need your secrets too, and you’re not in the mood to share food.

Grateful for the heavens that you and sirius stocked up on groceries two days ago, you had a wide selection of random items to munch on. A few days ago, you were introduced to the idea of a fluffernutter sandwich while scrolling through the short videos on your feed. Peanut butter and marshmallow fluff as spreads on their own was something you didn’t mind eating, but both together in a sandwich? You were enthralled, and the only way to quell the curiosity was to make it. So you did.

You shovel and slather more than enough spread on each slice of bread, though you might have used the same spoon on both jars.. but who’s to tell you off otherwise, your snoozing husband upstairs? pfft.

Smiling happily as if committing a particularly naughty crime, you place the spoon in your mouth, licking off the gooey mixture as you place the sandwich on a piece of paper towel (yes, you take the no dishwashing tonight seriously) on the table. humming, you mull over what to prepare next.

The baby needs something savory and tangy, but you’re not particularly keen on going through all the effort of heating up the soup from dinner, not to mention the amount of cutlery and dishes you’ll use for that, so you zero in on the tostada shells you chose rather than tortilla chips because its much more crispier.

Opening the fridge, you see the laughing cow on a round packaging and decide its the one, so you grab two cheese wedges from it.

Sirius had argued that the next aisle had actual, real blocks of cheese with a variety on display and that there was no point in getting artificially flavored ones. But you’ve gotten really good at giving him the stank face, which inadvertently ends 75 percent of nonsense bickering before it even starts; and since you’ve started showing more and more, sirius has admittedly gone softer on you, not that he was ever more but a pushover your entire relationship. Merely widening of eyes and a jut of your lower lip, even adding a slight tremble or two during times where you did actually fuck up, sirius can’t hold his stance longer than a minute before sighing and taking you in his arms. he might call you out for being a brat at times, but there’s no denying he loves it. And so the artificial wheel of cheese wedges got purchased and bagged home, and you’re meticulously spreading it over the golden shells, leaving little to no gaps of it bare.

Laying it on another paper towel, your heart gets giddy on your chest knowing you’re in for a treat tonight. But not quite time to start munching, the baby reminds you that you still need something tangy to complete the meal. So comes your big predicament, should you get dill pickles or tomato salsa?

It took you ten seconds too long of weighing down the pros-and-cons of choosing one and feeling like you made the wrong choice if you end up not liking it. It doesn’t help that the pregnancy hormones make you more anxious and tend to put you always on the verge of tears. So when the not-so-groundbreaking idea of just eating them both hits you, you feel the weight slide off your shoulders as you sigh. Because again, who’s gonna tell you that eating pickles this late at night can give you bad acid reflux, your snoozing husband? Pfft.

Snacking on some, you do manage to pick out the juiciest looking pickle chips and lay them atop of your tostadas. You and the little one are beyond excited to dive in. It’s looking like a mini upside-down pizza with the cheese spread first then the pickle as toppings. Only thing left now was the the tomato salsa slathered on top to seal the deal.

Opening tight lids wasn’t an issue for you before, in fact, you took pride when friends hand you a jar or bottle to open because you could do it in a breeze. Chances were, the lid wasn’t even screwed on that tight, you were just built different, you’d say with a shrug once you give the items back. So when the tomato jar doesn’t budge after two attempts, you get puzzled.

Maybe your hands were slippery? You wipe them down with a tea towel and try again. No.

You weren’t holding it tight enough? Fingers held taut against the lid, you try three times. Still no.

Determined, you try different positions before letting the jar go, shooting it glares as if it’d get intimidated and just open up for you. You were also getting lightheaded, and passing out on the kitchen floor due to excessive stimulation of your vagal reflex because you were too stubborn to use magic or wake your husband up to open it for you doesn’t seem like the best way to spend the early Tuesday morning hours.

Magic was even out of the option (well, in your brain it was), because your wand’s tucked beside sirius’s on your nightstand, and frankly, you don’t have the patience to drag yourself upstairs just to flick a utility spell to open the wretched thing. So you do the next best option: lose hope.

The disappointment was mutual between you and your baby. And the acid reflux did start to kick in, making your stomach grumble in both hunger and pain. This was all going so well until it isn’t, tears began to make its way up to your eyes.

“See, this is what you get for being greedy and eating all snacks by yourself,” sirius huffs behind you, deep voice still raspy with sleep. You didn’t even hear him getting out of bed and coming down the stairs, that’s how preoccupied you were with opening the jar.

He grabs the container away from you to open it, but not without throwing a scowl at your direction, handsome face contorted with furrowed eyebrows and downturned mouth, enough to express that he felt betrayed by this whole ordeal. If you were in a better mood, you’d poke his sides and tackle him playfully, teasing him for being sulky. But for now, you need the jar opened so you could eat in peace. You’ll deal with the sharing food issue later.

“t wasn’t supposed to take long,” you mumble, caught off guard and refusing to make eye contact, pretending the fridge magnets beside sirius’s head is ten times more interesting than his face. You don’t miss his raised eyebrow and snort at your response.

The second attempt comes and he opens it with a satisfying pop. your mouth falls agape, eyeing the *now accessible* tomato salsa dip in disbelief. What the hell?

And you couldn’t even take the smug grin spreading across sirius’s face by the millisecond. Refuse to. You try to snatch the open container away from him but he holds it higher and out of reach, making a show of puffing his chest, flexing his biceps, even giving it a kiss. This is all James’s doing, you need to have a talk with Lily soon about keeping these two separated.

“Sirius!” you try to plead your way out. the trademark innocent, pouty expression settles on your face like a second mask, hoping he’d go down this easy.

It doesn’t work. He just chuckles, mocking your pleas and face while his free hand sneaks up and pinches your unsuspecting cheek to tease you further.

You yelp in mock outrage and swat his hand away, trying your best to keep your displeasure firm on your face, but you feel the giggles coming up. “This is why I sneak out alone to eat, you’re such a bully,” you huff, but take a seat in front of your makeshift spread.

Sirius places the jar near you, but not without poking your exposed sides, armed with the knowledge that the easiest way to get you laughing (and eventually conceding in an argument) is knowing where your tickle zones are. “Oh yeah,” he drawls, plopping himself beside you. “That’s also why you’re the only one waking up with an upset stomach, stinking up our bathroom so early in the morning.”

Now this one got you appalled, embarrassed, disturbed, basically hit with all the feelings. You’ve been living together long before you got married, and he never brought up this issue until today. “That’s it. I’m leaving.” He makes a move to snatch the sandwich away but the embarrassment on your cheeks made you more agile, swatting his hand away and shielding the sandwich with your hands. “After I finish my meal,” you continue, shooting him a glare.

But see, one of the things that drove you nuts even way back at Hogwarts, was how Sirius Black mostly managed to outsmart you or be one step ahead of you in everything. After you turned him down without much thought whatsoever despite his grand declaration of interest, Sirius took it upon himself to show you (1) that you made a mistake for rejecting him, (2) that his ego won’t let you embarrass him like that again, (3) and that you won’t get rid of him that easily. Once he set his eyes on you, you were face to face with him in everything: grades, OWLs/NEWTs scores, Quidditch plays and bets, wins at the duelling club, even with the fucking gobstones tournament. He never let you catch a break.

Things were surely different now, since you vowed to be with him in sickness and health and untill death parts you both– hell, you’re carrying his child. So you figured maybe, maybe, he’ll let you catch a break this time. Let you eat in peace as you mull over his bathroom comment and how you’re going to get him back.

But again, no. Unlike you, Sirius remembered to grab his wand from the nightstand. Not even batting an eye, he says nonchalantly, “Accio sandwich.” And the fluffernutter you protected with all your physical might managed to escape your watch, and land gracefully on his waiting palm.

What irritated you more from this whole ordeal? The prodigal auror that climbed his way up the ranks and became the youngest deputy director, fully capable of complex spells and wielding different kinds of magic, felt the need to do a verbal Accio spell just to make a point to you.

Out of words, you just stare at him blankly. Too stunned to even cry in frustration because you knew you made a conscious, willing choice to be with this man.

Maybe your best guilt-tripping expression comes best when you’re not trying. Color drains from his face when you remained silent and he scrambles to take a bite off the sandwich before handing it back to you, or rather placing it on your limp hand as you refuse to acknowledge it, still too hurt to budge. “‘m sorry, baby. Just wanted to eat with you since we didn’t get to earlier.”

He did arrive later than usual, deciding to finish the stack of case files and paperwork so he won’t have to sift through them again the next day. There were plans to wait for him before eating, but when the jitteriness and slightly nausea started to kick in, you had no choice in the matter. Sirius had been sulky and clingy the moment he got home, and as compromise, you stayed to watch him eat; listening and reacting animatedly as he ranted about his stressful day.

So you cut him off some slack, also exhausted from all the emotional stimulation sirius brought since he woke up. As a silent peace offering (also because you’re not ready to say sorry to his face), you slide the tostadas within his reach and finally take your bite of the goddamn sandwich. It was good, tasted as expected, sweet peanut butter. You’d probably have it again as a drunk at 3am meal.

Sirius also went and got snacks of his own: microwaved popcorn, pickles, toasted bread slathered with butter, and grapes. Together, you munched on the little spread of random food you could find in your kitchen at 4am in comfortable silence, which is surprising after the earlier bickering. No matter how cheesy it sounded in your head, sirius was the only person that can drive you to the brink of insanity and right back. You were in for a hell of a ride for the foreseeable future; and while there’s a lot of uncertainty right now and changes to be made when the little one gets here, you’re beyond happy that you get to do all this with him.

Sleep was beginning to creep up on you. Of course he notices this right when you do, so a warm arm wrapped across your back urges you to settle on his lap, bodies melding into the familiar crevices like puzzle pieces, though you both had to adjust certain angles to accommodate your growing belly. You sit like this for a while; your head tucked securely in the crook of his neck, steady breaths lulling you to sleep, while sirius’s hands instinctively finds its way under your sleep shirt and on the natural curve of your belly, lithe fingers stroking and drawing soothing circles anywhere he could reach.

you wish you could stay like this forever– cozy and soft and safe– but alas, you were carrying sirius black’s offspring. the baby decides to reward you with a round of kicks, probably giddy after feeling their father’s touch. Sirius chuckles and coos at your bump, while a muffled groan leaves your lips from the sudden onslaught of movement, but still refusing to move from this comfortable position.

Smooth cold lips touch the side of your forehead and you relish in the feeling. “Does it ever hurt, love? All that kicking and wiggling?”

“Not really,” a content sigh leaves your lips. “Feels strange at times, seeing your belly move on its own.”

To prove your point, two tiny bulges make a split second appearance just above where Sirius’s hand lay. His thumb soothes the area lovingly.

“Definitely getting stronger though; Lily told me during the later months, harry for some reason loved to kick downwards, making bathroom trips more frequent than it already is. Not excited for that.”

He presses kisses on your forehead, temple, hairline, anywhere he could reach without moving too much. “Things that you do and endure for this ‘lil troublemaker,” sirius murmurs. He doesn’t need to say it out loud, you could feel his body reverberating with awe and fondness. You try to bask in it for as long as you could, but a passing thought makes its presence known to you again.

“Do i really make the bathroom stink?” it comes out whinier than you intended it to be but you just had to know for peace of mind.

Sirius’s whole frame vibrates as he tries to stifle his laughter, taking you with him. He’s laughing at your expense but you feel your own giggles brewing in your belly. You try to hold it in for longer, preserving some self respect. “A little bit,” he says solemnly. You groan, earlier mortified feeling returning in full swing. It triggers another round of chuckles.

“But dove, it’s nothing that my deep love and adoration for my lovely strong hot and sexy wife can’t handle.” He says assuredly, and you curse yourself for being so down bad for this man as blood rushes to your cheeks from his words. Good thing it’s dim and your face is still tucked in the crook of his neck.

You do pinch his arm in response, and both your laughters compliment the comfortable silence.

“Although,” he says after a while. “The betrayal of you eating without me still hurts.”

“Siri.. i’m sorry,” you mumble. “‘y looked so tired, Didn’t wanna wake you up.”

He tuts and doesn’t say much after that. In sirius dictionary, this means he just wants some affection from you— for you to dote on him and coax out his forgiveness, even if you both know he’s not really mad; judging by his arms still wrapped securely around your frame and steady breaths that tickle and fan on your bare skin.

So you mimic his actions from earlier, planting tiny kisses on his neck, collarbones, jawline, anywhere your lips could reach. Kissing his cheek seem to do the trick, his fake scowl quickly coming undone as a bashful smile breaks through the frown, and his tiny dimple you love so much making an appearance. The muggle maternity books did say dimples are genetic, so an image of a little Sirius running around and smiling up at you with those dimpled cheeks is a warming thought.

“I am charming all the lids to be stuck at night as soon as i wake up tomorrow for work.” You poke a sensitive spot on his side, making him jolt, but you couldn’t resist laughter as it bubbles out of the surface. “You’re insufferable, I can’t believe I married a psychopath.”

“And you let him knock you up too. I’d say it takes one to know one, hm?”

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aprilsprincess · 4 months

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you are in love | cedric diggory x fem!reader (part 1)

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Cedric was content with what he had. He was prefect, quidditch captain and the unspoken partner of yours. He wouldn't want to risk a thing with you because everything is so good as it is. But when other students are thrown into the equation, at the end of the day, is he truly yours?

warnings: two dummies in love, reader is a Gryffindor

word count: 2.5k

a/n: This is my first fic published so I'm nervous!! But I'm going to try to make multiple parts for this one because it was just getting too long and I have so many ideas for Cedric (bc we were robbed!) Also not proofread! ₊˚⊹♡

Fred pushed the list of self made “Prettiest Girls at Hogwarts” in the new first years’ faces. The tiny moving portraits of the Hogwarts girls looked a little silly in the first years’ minds but the twins insisted that pictures solidify their case.

“These are who you lot should be aiming for,” he stated with confidence, utterly prideful of the list, “aside from y/n of course, she’s off limits.”

“Off limits? She said she didn’t have a boyfriend while she toured us though?” a small first year girl chirped. The twins exchanged a knowing look before chuckling slowly.

“The beautiful Gryffindor prefect, my little unknowing friends, is off limits because ah, right on time as usual” George dramatically cocked his head in your direction.

You had been eating your breakfast alone quite peacefully when you felt someone in yellow dawned robes slip into the open seat beside you.

“Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff prefect, quidditch seeker-“

“And captain” George sang.

“And just all around dream boy. All the girls think he’s bloody fit.” Fred concluded.

“He has kind of an unspoken dibs on y/n. Has had one since last year when they became prefects. No one has even tried to make any advances on her cause of it.”

“Why’s that?” the first years were now all huddled close to the twins, listening with intense interest.

Fred rolled his eyes, “because look at the bloke!” A couple of students from neighbouring tables looked curiously in the direction of the loud proclamation. Looking around he leaned in closer to whisper, “Rumour has it he’s planning to put his name in for the Triwizard Tournament this year too. He’s as fit they come!”

“Not to mention he’s so bloody nice that you can’t even hate the bloke for being so perfect.” George finished as the rest of the table nodded along, absorbing the precious information.

“He’s not perfect you know.” Everyone whipped their head to see Hermione chiming in, not even looking up from her books.

“If he was the dream boy you all say he is, they would’ve been together by now. Personally, I think he’s too comfortable for his own good.”

“What’d you mean by that Hermione?” Fred asked.

She shut her book with a thud and sighed, “Yes he’s attractive in all ways, but how long do you reckon he’s going to keep stringing her along like that? He’s been flirting with her for as long as he’s known her but won’t do anything about it. It’s sad really.”

The twins paused while exchanging confused looks, not understanding what was so sad about the two perfect prefects’ relationship.

“Ugh, boys!” Hermione, exasperated, gave up and opened the thick novel to continue her literature.

It’s not like Cedric didn’t like you. He liked everything about you, but Hermione was right, he was comfortable with how things were. He wasn’t cocky, not in the slightest, but he was always far from worried when it came to you and other guys at the school. Everyone knew about you two, so he’s never been challenged for your attention. He in all honesty, guiltily enjoyed the lack of complication that the two of you had when it came to your relationship status. There wouldn’t be anything to lose if he didn’t start anything, so he stayed in his comfort with you.

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“Morning y/n!” Cedric’s presence instantly made you feel relaxed and warm.

“It’s such a pleasure seeing you here at my house’s table this morning Diggory.” you teased. It wasn’t completely unnatural for Cedric to join you at the Gryffindor table, but he usually felt that as a prefect, sitting at his own house table was almost a requirement.

“I came bearing quite honourable and exciting news y/n,” he was beaming, so excited that it seemed like he was going to jump out of his seat, “I’ve decided to do it this year. I’ve officially made up my mind that I’m going to throw my name out for the Triwizard Tournament.”

He was ecstatic, to say the least, and it was difficult for you to match his energy as you had just heard the worst news you could’ve expected from him. The Tournament has had students die while participating, so it wasn’t surprising that you didn’t want the boy you cared so much about to have a chance at it.

He caught onto your uncertainty fairly quickly; you were obviously smiling but it didn’t reach your eyes. He let out a breath and carefully reached for your hand.

“I know that you may feel hesitant about it but believe me, I know the risks but there is so much for me to gain from this experience. So please trust in me y/n.” his pleading eyes were too difficult to resist.

“I do, I do trust you Cedric,” you mustered as much support as you could in that moment, “the Goblet would be stupid not to choose such a fine competitor.” Your words seemed to satisfy Cedric as he jumped out of his seat, gave you a quick kiss atop of your head and sped off to the Hufflepuff common rooms.

He had made his mind up and the only thing you could possibly do was to try to hex that stupid over-gloried cup in your mind as you prayed to Dumbledore for Cedric’s name not to be pulled.

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The news that students from other schools were coming to Hogwarts excited the masses. It wasn’t every day they got to see such new faces. Especially faces as attractive as the Beauxbaton and Durmstrang students.

Everyone was bursting with excitement in the Great Hall, awaiting anxiously for the foreign students to arrive. You on the other hand were busy glancing at Cedric who was chatting happily with his housemates.

“You’re staring you know.” Hermione’s deadpan voice made your head turn to face her, your eyes lingering just a second longer on the Hufflepuff table.

“Honestly y/n, we have some of the greatest wizarding students coming in for a tournament that only happens every five years and your focus is on Diggory? Merlin y/n if anything, focus on the OWLs instead.” Hermione wasn’t annoyed, but instead truly baffled as to how you could easily ignore such a large celebration for one boy.

You held up your hands in defense, but before you could retort, Dumbledore had already started introducing the new guests.

The vision of blue overwhelmed your senses and you were stunned for a second, only being snapped back to reality by the hollering of the surrounding boys. You shifted in your seat in an attempt to see Cedric’s reaction to the Beauxbaton girls, but the rowdiness of the male students blocked your vision. Sinking back in your seat pouting, you wondered if Cedric was enjoying this as much as the other boys were. I mean, Ron was practically drooling. You didn’t have much time to sulk over the issue as you got simultaneously shoved on both sides by Hermione and Ginny. You craned your neck to see what was causing this female commotion.

“Oh Merlin y/n, it’s Viktor Krum! And he’s even better up close!” Ginny whispered excitedly. You stared at the older boy not really impressed but you giggled with Ginny nonetheless, feeling left out of the Viktor-Krum-is-so-handsome festivities that were happening at the table.

From across the grand path of new students, Cedric stared at you as you giggled and whispered with Ginny. Following your line of sight, his eyes were met with the stiff, soldier-like, famous Viktor Krum. Groaning, he hung his head in his hands as the noises of the Great Hall faded in his ears. He was beginning to think, maybe he was, in fact too cocky when it came to you.

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Your friends were whispering excitedly in the courtyard when you had joined them.

“What’s got you lot so excited?” you asked while squeezing to sit between Hermione and Ginny on the ledge.

“Viktor Krum! What else?” Ginny chirped excitedly. Just at the mention of his name, the other girls squealed in pure bliss. You observed your young friends’ excitement happily. You hadn’t had much time to observe the new Hogwarts guests, as the reality of Cedric putting his name into the goblet this year became more and more clear to you. A warm hand delicately tapped your shoulder from behind you, breaking you from your worries temporarily, and you looked up and behind to see Cedric standing behind you while giving you his most infamous, heart-stopping smile.

“Ladies” he nodded to the group of girls in acknowledgement before bringing his full attention to you. Content, you leaned your head back into his chest as you looked up at the boy who seemed to be radiating sunshine.

“Cedric! What are you doing here?” you were beaming. He looked like honey. You couldn’t really describe it, but he was just so warm and so sweet. Beautiful really. Especially in the courtyard sun.

“I thought you could perhaps lend me your potions books for today?” he grinned lopsidedly at you as you sighed and pulled out the heavy book. How could you ever say no to this boy?

“You’re the champion of my heart y/n, you know that?” you laughed when he clutched his heart with his free arm. Your heart bubbled with warmth. You let yourself bask in the feeling only for a moment when Ginny moved to head back to the common rooms first. Feeling rather amorous, you told her you would meet her back there soon. You wanted to share your bubbly feelings with someone and Ginny always loved listening to it.

“Not just your heart Diggory.” Hermione teased quietly seeing that you were distracted with Ginny for a moment. She gestured Cedric towards a pair of Durmstrang students. One in particular seemed to be taking quite an interest in you. As the Durmstrang boy kept glancing at you, Cedric’s hand on your shoulder unconsciously became a little stiffer and he pulled you a little closer.

Cedric then bent down to reach your ear and whispered lowly, “I really do appreciate it y/n. You’re not only the champion of my heart but also the one who holds my mind, body and soul in all completion.” The cheesiness of his words had you giggling. You knew he didn’t truly mean what he was saying, but the light tinge of pink on your cheeks was evident.

Stretching back up to stand Cedric held his gaze on the Durmstrang boy, feeling rather confident and accomplished as he watched the boy’s friend pat him on the back consolingly as they walked away.

“Oh, Merlin! I forgot that I told Ginny I’d meet her in the common room!” you frantically gathered your things and hollered rushed goodbyes. “Don’t forget to return my potions book Cedric!” you reminded and he chuckled lightly to himself in response.

As your sporadic figure grew smaller in the distance, Hermione turned to face Cedric. “You know Diggory, every guy at Hogwarts may know of your guys’ relationship, but the ones at Durmstrang don’t.” Hermione stated matter-of-factly, making Cedric’s grin falter.

“What’s that supposed to mean Granger?” Frustrated, Hermione groaned, “It means that although the boys at Hogwarts don’t fancy y/n, that doesn’t mean that the boys at Durmstrang won’t. You can’t pull that kind of stunt again with every Durmstrang boy she comes in contact with. Godric, boys are so dim sometimes!” she huffed as she turned on her heel to leave.

Cedric rubbed the back of his neck, feeling quite sheepish for being caught in his rather childish act. Hermione was right though, he wouldn’t be able to keep every single guy away from you. So what was he supposed to do?

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The night of the choosing of names came all too fast for you. You knew he put in his name. You knew he really wanted this. And for some reason, you felt like you knew he would be picked. This weighed heavily on your mind and you honestly could not for the life of you, pay attention to who the other two victors were.

The paper flew out and Dumbledore caught it. The dread in your stomach increased to a nauseating level, the chatter of the students ringing in your ears and then the room went quiet. It wasn’t actually quiet but suddenly you weren’t able to hear the cheers of your peers as you watched the boy you yearned for so dearly, walk through the aisles in celebratory fashion. Your head started spinning, how many students had entered their names? What were the odds? How was it possible that the one student, the one student that you couldn’t risk being out in that tournament, had gotten picked?

Cedric was on top of the world at that moment. He wasn’t too interested in becoming legendary or glorified through the Tournament but was simply elated to bring pride to the Hufflepuff House. He would be lying though, if he said that he would gladly take on the glory if it meant you would see him as such. Thinking of you, he searched quickly for your head in the crowd. When he finally spotted you, his grin widened but as he saw your fallen and disconnected expression he grew concerned and tried to move his way through the crowd to your spot. Unfortunately, it was a lost cause as the Goblet erupted once more and the wave of confused students swept Cedric further away from you.

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“Krum’s got a yes!” Cedric turned his attention away from his house tablemates to the rowdy group of Durmstrang boys that were chirping excitedly.

“Who’s the lucky woman Viktor? I mean half of this school wants to be your date to the Yule Ball! You have to tell us who you ended up asking!” the boys leaned in eager to hear more about Viktor’s proposal.

“Who else, I asked the pretty Gryffindor I said I would ask.” he replied shortly, seemingly unamused by his friends.

“Bloody hell, he’s asked y/n!” Cedric whipped his head around to the first-year Hufflepuff who had also turned to listen in. Cedric’s facial expression dropped.

Glancing at Cedric nervously one of the older Hufflepuffs questioned the girl, “How in Merlin’s Beard would know that? Krum didn’t even say that he had asked y/n.”

“It’s obvious!” she smiled as she hurriedly reached into her pocket and fished out a piece of paper.

“Prettiest…Girls…At…Hogwarts” one of the Hufflepuffs read aloud slowly. Unbeknownst to you, the twins have not only been solidifying their list with the Gryffindor first years, but ALL the first years.

“Look!” she pointed to your tiny moving portrait on the paper.

“It says right there: y/n, 6th year, Gryffindor. If Viktor Krum had been talking about a pretty Gryffindor, it had had to be her. She’s a prefect, he would absolutely go for her!” the tiny girl smiled proudly at her findings as if she had cracked a hard case.

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Sitting alone in the Hufflepuff common room, Cedric was deep in thought.

Had Viktor Krum really asked you to the ball? Had you really said yes? He knew he hadn’t asked you at all but he had assumed it was only natural that the two of you would’ve gone together. Right..?

The more he questioned you and himself the more miserable he became.

#cedric diggory #cedric #fanfic #cedric x reader #cedric x y/n #cedric x you #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory x you #cedric diggory x female reader #harry potter #harry potter imagine #cedric diggory imagine #hogwarts #hogwarts houses #hufflepuff #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #cedric diggory fluff #cedric deserved better

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c0nsumemy5oul · 5 months

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"Alright, Black?"

I saw some people doing this so I thought I'd try my luck.

Jegulus minific, 687 words, rated G.

Almost everyone at Hogwarts was aware of the fact that James Potter fancied Regulus Black. At least a little.

In the same way everyone was aware he used to fancy Lily Evans. By serenading her whenever they passed each other by.

But also everyone knew that he stopped fancying Evans a long time ago.

Yet, not many know about Lily’s girlfriend. (She’s happy with Mary now, Regulus hears.)

What caused Potter’s focus to shift to him, Regulus isn’t sure. He’s not exactly opposed to the attention but it’s certainly hard to adapt to.

Not to say that he hadn’t adapted to it. James had flirted with him and called him out, seeking his attention enough times by now, for Regulus to sense when Potter walked into the room.

Regulus was sitting with Lupin in the library, both were reading silently and enjoying each other’s company until Evans walked in confidently.

“Remus!” Lupin’s head snapped up from his book. “Prefect meeting in five minutes!” She whisper-shouted, “Did you forget?”

He looked down at his watch, “Oh, I didn’t notice the time…” He started packing his things to follow Evans out before she stopped him.

“Don’t worry, it’s been cancelled,” She grinned, “Just wanted to give you a scare.”

Lupin rolled his eyes and pushed a laughing Evans back.

And then Regulus felt it.

James Potter.

Sure enough, the rest of the Marauders appeared from behind a bookshelf, calling out to Remus.

“Moony!” Sirius called, “Up for some mischief?”

Lupin grinned back at him.

“Nothing too bad,” Peter tried to reassure the other Prefect among them.

Lily rolled her eyes.

Regulus was wondering if it was gonna come when—

“Alright, Black?”

There it was!

Regulus hummed something in Potter’s general direction (who was messing up his hair and grinning at him) as they took Lupin with them and left.

He went back to reading, thinking he’ll get some peace and quiet but instead felt watched.

Evans was still there. She seemed like she was trying to say something, but was struggling to find the right words.

Regulus went back to his book, waiting.

Eventually, she blurted out, “Remember how James used to flirt with me like that?”

I beg your fucking pardon? He wanted to say, but he raised a brow instead.

“I just mean,” Lily backtracked quickly, “If you want him to stop or at least to get a different reaction out of him, just flirt back.”

At Regulus’s scepticism, she continued.

“Trust me, he’ll be so flustered he won’t know what to say.”

And so Regulus considered it.

The opportunity presented itself at dinner.

Regulus stood in the doorway to the Great Hall, talking about practice with the Slytherin Quidditch captain when James and his gang passed by.

“Alright, Black?” James grinned at him, walking by.

Sirius rolled his eyes like usual, Remus snorted as usual, even Peter ignored them as usual but Regulus replied for once.

“Alright, Potter.” His head was downcast but his eyes looked up mischievously. He knew exactly what he was doing.

James stopped walking. He completely froze. Sirius bumped into his back.

“Mate,” He said, a little annoyed, but James wouldn’t move.

He stared at Regulus, clearly not expecting a response. His mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. He let out a nervous chuckle. His entire head, down to his neck, was a dark red.

“I’m…” James laughed, flustered.

Sirius, now completely done with his friend, pushed him forward, moving them along towards the Gryffindor table, murmuring something like “Come on!”

The rest of the Marauders followed them, sneaking glances at Regulus as they passed.

James was still frozen, his legs moving aimlessly wherever Sirius pushed him.

He seemed to be in a trance.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” Regulus turned back to his captain, not understanding a word that was said and just nodding until the boy left him alone.

The rest of the meal was spent with James grinning while trying to catch Regulus’s eye and Regulus hiding a grin of his own, trying his hardest not to think of how cute James Potter looks when flustered.

I wrote this in a few minutes so don't judge if it's bad. Hope you liked it! :D

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wicchyy · 5 months

Text

—0.6 touch me the right way, baby ; james potter

sum: you’ve never been touched the right way, and James helps with that / bestfriend!James

warnings: (smut) fingering, oral (fem receiving), some light dirty talk

You’ve been sighing incessantly for the whole hour, annoying your best friend, and not in a good way. James had called you over to hang by his dorm while he finished cleaning himself up, quidditch practice ended early.

“Look, sweetheart, you either tell me what’s wrong or I’m kicking you out.”

You looked up at him with an annoyed pout, “You won’t.”

“I certainly will.”

Your head dropped to James’ pillow with a loud huff, body colliding with the softness of his comforter. “It’s nothing.”

“Sure is something if it’s got you huffin’ like a little child.”

As James gets ready, the corner of your eye watches carefully while he does the steps of his night routine thoroughly. He’s already wearing a light sweater, but his lower half is still covered with a towel. James puts on all his necessary skincare before he’s finally grabbing a pair of boxers from his drawer. This is where you look a way, just in time to only see the sliver of skin on his back before your eyes are darting to the ceiling.

“You wouldn’t understand, Jamie, really.”

“Try me, sweetheart. I’m your best friend, sure I’d understand you.”

“It’s just—“ you cut yourself off, sitting up so you could make eye contact with James. “Promise you won’t be weirded out?”

“Mhm. Course.” He replied. James flicked his wand one time, then his towel was gone and the sheets on his bed perfectly done after the mess you’ve caused by laying on it.

He took the rest of the space you’ve cleared for him and took a sat down. James stretches out his legs, each one in between your own.

“I haven’t been … how do I say it, satisfied? In a while.” The moment you uttered the words, a light blush spread all over James’ cheeks. “Oh, see! I knew you’d be weirded out by it.”

He opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out. Truthfully, he was quite speechless not because he was weirded out. But because he’s already imagined different dirty scenarios with you more than he’d like to admit.

“No! I’m not weirded out, sweetheart. Definitely not, just … surprised, I guess.”

“Ugh. It’s just— everytime I try to hookup with someone, I just can’t … y’know?”

James turns even redder. This time, it’s a bit because of the jealousy his mind automatically goes to when he hears your words. “Look, honey. Honestly I think it’s just the guys? You— you’re perfectly … perfect. Maybe you’ve just been picking the wrong guys to hook up with.”

“And who are the right guys?”

Me. James wants to say. Me. I could have you coming in so many different ways you wouldn’t question yourself ever again.

“I— I dunno.”

“You?”

What? Did you actually just say those words aloud? James and even yourself can’t even believe it right now. You’ve never been so bold like that, definitely never flirting him up with something like it. James thinks that his heart could stop right this moment.

“I— .”

“Could you make me come, Jamie?” The way you’re asking, with your innocent smile and your beautiful lips just voicing the words out already has James’ cock hardening.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Is that a hypothetical question?” He tries to clear the nervousness out of his voice.

You bite your lips carefully, reaching for James’ hand resting on the bed. You gripped it and bought it closer to you, hovering over your clothed cunt. “Definitely not.”

The way you’re sitting right now, it makes your position with James even closer. Especially as you pull his body towards you, which he’s reciprocating very obediently.

“Do whatever you want to me” You whisper.

In a second, James is launching himself at you. He’s careful not to hurt you with his weight but hes immediately taking your hand as he guides you to a position he’s eager to settle in.

James leans against the headboard of his bed, desperately bringing you up on his lap. You’re straddling him as he looks up at you with lustful eyes.

Christ, he thinks. He’s been waiting for this moment for such a long fucking time that it feels like a dream right now. He has you atop him, you wearing his red and golden quidditch jersey, nothing but a pair of thin white shorts, and undoubtly another pair of thin panties underneath.

“Sweetheart, are you sure about this? I don’t— don’t think we can just be best fucking friends again after this.”

You take his hand and slide it under your clothed cunt, the warmth making all the blood rising to James’ cheeks. “I know, Jamie. Just touch me, please. Need you.”

“Baby .. y’so perfect like this. Like my girl.” He replies, breath stuffy like he can’t handle it anymore.

“Mhm.” You whined. You unconsciously grind down on the James’ open palm, spreading your wetness over your panties. “Always been your girl. Jamie, please, please. Touch me the right way.”

Your begging makes him finally taking action. He lifts up your body slightly like it weighs nothing, ordering you to take off the thin shorts, which you do almost instantly.

“So fucking wet, already. D’you always think about me when you’re touching this pussy?”

Fuck. He hasn’t even touched you properly but it already has you feeling a high. James moves your panties aside and immediately slips inside a finger, the wetness providing easy access. Your whines fill the room, good thing Remus and Sirius aren’t going to be here for a while.

“Feels s’good Jamie.”

He smirks just slightly, using his thumb to rub at your clit in circles. “I always love when y’call me that. You’ve no idea how much I got myself off in the shower thinking of you calling me that, sweetheart.”

His thumb rubs harder, while your hands move upwards to drag the hem of James’ Jersey upwards. You lift it up to show him your tits, making the boy even more hungry for more. You can feel James’ cock prodding at your entrance and the feeling adds up to your pleasure.

“Jamie … feels good.”

“I know, baby. Lift that top up, let me see your pretty tits.” He takes you through it gently, but quickly at the same time.

One of your hand holds the top up to showcase your body to James, and you used the other to gently massage one of your tits.

“Keep those eyes on me.” He orders. You obey, keeping eye contact as James works you through your orgasm. It takes you a few more minutes, and then he’s prodding two more fingers inside your wet hole, thumb still working wonders on your clit.

James has you begging, begging for more, begging for release. You’re absolutely melting in his arms. He lets you come and you’re immediately spilling all over his lower half. He takes your panties and covers your cunt again, making the come spill over and ruin your white panties.

“Fuck, I love that sight.” James says roughly, clearly too turned on after seeing you come so easily with his fingers.

“Jamie … want more, please please.”

“Course, baby. Lay back, let me have a taste, yeah?” He says as he adjusts his glasses up the bridge of his nose and running a hand through his hair.

That’s how he has you whining and moaning, desperately begging for a release. First James takes your panties off, then he licks it clean, then he works you up using his fingers, and finally he uses his tongue to bring you to your second orgasm. By the time he’s done, his glasses are fogged up from the heat of your hot cunt. And his hair is a just mess of curls as your fingers twist unrelentlessly at it.

He’s skillful with his tongue, teasing your clit and making sure to taste every inch of your cunt before he lets you come again.

After he has you coming again, this time dripping down to his clean sheets, James kisses your pussy lightly. “This is my new favourite thing, baby. Aside from your tits. Fuck, I love you so much.”

“I love y’too, Jamie.”

That line alone has James coming in his boxers.

💌 thanks for reading lovie! support me by reblogging <3

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little-diable · 8 months

Text

Kinktober Day 11 - Draco Malfoy

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading them, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

🩶 Day 11 🩶 Hands

Warnings: 18+, obviously smut, unprotected piv, oral (f), both are 18+ for the sake of it

Draco Malfoy x fem!reader (1.2k words)

header by @deathofpeaceofmind

My Kinktober Masterlist

“Love? Are you listening?” (Y/n) had to blink a few times, shaking her head to rip herself out of her wandering thoughts, drawing her eyes from Draco’s veiny hands. A soft chuckle left him, hand reaching for her chin to keep her head in place, not giving his girlfriend a chance to move away. “I’ll see you after the game, alright?”

“Mhm, of course, I’ll wait for you.” She shifted her weight, pressing a kiss against Draco’s cold lips before he let go of her, disappearing to join the others. With an almost dreamy sigh leaving her, (y/n) turned away, set on finding her friends before the Quidditch game could start, not wanting to miss a second of it.

Excitement bubbled deep inside of her as her mind used the few moments of silence she was now offered, once again thinking of Draco’s hands, the hands she desperately wanted to feel on her body, wrapped around her throat, no longer able to remember when he had touched her last. It had been too long, too long without his body pressed against hers, too long without hearing the sinful sounds he’d produce as he was buried deep inside of her, fucking (y/n) into oblivion.

But tonight they’d finally get another chance to find solace in one another’s closeness, using the handful of hours where the others would get drunker and drunker, not sparing the two lovers any of their attention.

(Y/n) couldn’t concentrate on her friends, not as the game started, not as the end was near, eyes solely focused on Draco, watching him hold onto his broom, smirking whenever his piercing eyes found (y/n)’s dilated pupils. He was all too aware of the thoughts distracting her, the pictures her mind painted – pictures Draco’s mind also clung to whenever he allowed his thoughts to wander.

“I take it we won’t see you later?” Her friend’s chuckles rang in (y/n)’s ears as she turned towards them with a slight smile, shaking her head without letting one single vowel leave her. Her mind was too occupied with the thought of Draco, thighs clenched together as the first waves of arousal, mixed with anticipation, began to flush through her system. Whatever he was set on doing, she’d allow it all – just for him.

“There you are, I was looking for you.” Draco’s scent clashed against her frame, leaving her mind to race as the mixture of green apples and expensive cologne crawled up her nostrils. His lips had found hers before her reply could leave her, a sight that left their friends laughing, turning away from the lovers to find their way down the hallway, set on getting drunk within the next hour. “Come, let’s go to my room.”

“Don’t you want to celebrate first? You deserve it!” Draco’s piercing eyes found hers before he let his gaze wander down the hallway. With a gasp leaving her, (y/n) was pressed against the nearest wall, held in place by the hand finding her throat, thumb teasing her cold skin.

“Do you want me to go down there? I certainly had other things in mind we’d be doing tonight, and taking it from the way you keep staring at my hands today, I’d say your mind is also focusing on something else.” Draco pressed himself even closer, allowing her to feel the growing bulge of his, making her moan in a desperate need for more.

“Take me to your room.”

……

“Don’t close your eyes, keep on watching, love.” Draco was nestling between her thighs, tongue pressed against her skin, tasting her arousal. Her moans echoed through the room, swallowed by the spell keeping their sounds hidden from people walking past his room, offering them the privacy they were aching for. He pushed her closer and closer to the edge, with one hand taking care of her pulsing bundle of nerves, while the other was placed on her stomach, fingers interlaced with hers.

(Y/n) found herself staring at his hand at any given chance, even as he dipped his tongue into her tightness, making her walls flutter, high on the way Draco was making her feel. She kept choking on his name, unable to let go of the words burning on her tongue, unable to express the way he was making her feel, only able to communicate with her arousal laced sounds.

“My pretty girl, look at you, you’re so needy for me, I could do whatever I want, and you’d still beg me for more, huh?” Draco found pride in the way he seemingly was making her feel, guiding her body like a raft sailing through the uneasy ocean, a raft that would drown without his help.

“Draco,” his name left her like a spell, laced with enough strength to catch his attention, carrying a deeper meaning only he could pick up on. “Fuck me, please, I need to feel you.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, naked body moving up her frame, hovering above her with his signature smirk tugging on his lips. Draco caught her lips in a kiss, making her taste herself on his tongue – a distraction from his shifting, positioning himself at her entrance, pushing into her tightness without another warning.

The moan leaving him forced her eyes open once again, staring up at him with awe swimming in her pupils. (Y/n) trembled at the sounds ripping through Draco, sounds that filled the room with every ferocious thrust, forcing his cock deeper into her tightness. Both were set on chasing their highs, not daring to drag this moment out, at least not for the first round of many to come.

No words left Draco as he raised one hand, bringing it up to her mouth, forcing (y/n) to suck on the two fingers he pushed down on her tongue. The sight left Draco groaning in satisfaction, thanking his lucky stars for pushing (y/n) into his life, the one he’d die for, the one he’d chase till the end of their time, if it meant being with her forever.

Her walls fluttered around him whenever he met her swollen spot, once again pushing her closer to the edge, all too aware of her arising high. Draco was set on making her cum, set on making (y/n) scream his name with her arched back and her curled toes. And within the next moments he managed to do so, watching her fall apart beneath him.

Draco’s name left (y/n) as she came, fingernails clawing at his back, leaving scratches that wouldn't fade for days. He kept fucking into her, even as her body began to relax, reaching his own high with a deep growl ripping through him. She watched him cum with hazy eyes, relieving himself on her warm skin, watching his cum paint her skin white.

“I should have picked up on the way you keep staring at my hands a lot earlier.” His whispers left her chuckling, arms finding their way around his neck to pull him in for a kiss, murmuring a soft though teasing “I want to feel them around my throat as I suck you off”, leaving Draco groaning in excitement for their upcoming adventures.

#Draco Malfoy smut #little-diable kinktober23 #Draco Malfoy imagine #Draco Malfoy x reader #harry potter imagine

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fangisms · 6 months

Text

lady may

A/N: something ab writing for an angry hufflepuff really saved my soul. she is SO valid. maybe i’m her. (also this song eats away at my brain, so i had to write ab it… naturally) gif creds: @frodo-sam

Pairings: Cedric Diggory x Fem!Grumpy!Hufflepuff!Reader

Summary: Well, he’s not the toughest hickory that your axe has ever felled // But he’s a hickory just as well 1.5k words

Warnings: fluff, cursing, two idiots very much in love, pining, angry hufflepuff, dumb/embarassed reader (lovingly), golden retriever cedric, quidditch injury mention

How could you look so beautiful drenched by the pouring rain, hovering ten meters in the air, goggles suctioned to your face, barking orders at the rest of the team like a drill sergeant? It’d always make him wonder. And midgame, that’s a silly thing to do. Which is exactly why he’s doing it.

You’re the angriest girl Cedric’s ever met. World class beater and a great captain, but you’ve got serious anger issues. The guys have started calling you boxer because you’re always on the verge of a scrap. Cedric has seen you chew out almost every position on the team. Except him. You’ve never yelled at him, you barely even look in his direction on a good day. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, he wants you to yell at him.

Well, not entirely inexplicable. Now would be the best time to mention he’s got a huge crush on you. In fact, he’s had a crush on you since you became team captain. You’ve always been pretty, but something about the title and the power really commanded his attention.

Which is precisely why he needs you to yell at him. He craves it. He’s been waiting all year for you to tell him he’s an idiot and that he’s doing everything wrong. But you won’t. And desperate times call for very desperate measures.

He’s barely dodging bludgers, not even trying for the snitch, doing party tricks in front of the stands, anything for you to glance his way. And then he goes and gets knocked off his broom. Luckily, he wasn’t too high in the air and he wasn’t flying too fast. The worst that happened was he got the wind knocked out of him. The best? You marching toward him like a sicced dog.

You kneel at his side, goggles loose around your neck as you coo, “are you okay?”

What? No, this is all wrong, you’re supposed to call him stupid, say that next time he’s off the team. Not ask if he’s okay.

Cedric nods and you help him sit up, signalling to the stadium that he’s alright. A cheer rips through the crowd.

“Can you play?” you huff, patting his back softly. He’s got butterflies.

“Yeah,” he says. When you get him on his feet, he almost wishes you won’t let go. And he suddenly remembers you’re much prettier up close, and his heart nearly gives out.

“Good sport, Diggory,” you tease, hopping back on your broom, “Back to work!”

It’d take a brain injury to get your attention.

The game goes off without a hitch: Cedric goes back to actually trying for the snitch and wins Hufflepuff the game. He’s a little disappointed he hsan’t given you anything else to be upset about. So once the celebration is over, he catches you outside of the locker rooms.

“Why didn’t you get mad at me?” Cedric asks, jogging to catch you as you head back towards the dorms. You don’t respond, but he’s sure you heard him. So he nudges your shoulder. “Come on, boxer, I’ve seen you angry, I’m prepared.”

You stop dead in your tracks, and he slows to a stop just behind you. Then you turn to face him, and he’s never seen your glare so intense.

“Listen, Diggory, you’re smart, you’ve got talent, and I trust you to perform well on this team. So I can’t for the life of me understand why you go out on that field just to dick around.”

You’re serious. Not angry, just serious. You’ve got this calm and collected tone that drives him absolutely up-the-wall insane. But he wants you to yell.

“You have plenty of adoring fans tracking your every move, you don’t have to pull dumb shit to get people to like you. You could’ve gotten yourself hurt or killed, understand? So I advise you put your team and your safety before your reputation,” you say, storming off with your bag slung over your shoulder.

And it gets him kind of worked up because obviously, he wouldn’t have done any of it if it weren’t for you. You and your stupidly selective anger issues. And your stupid smile.

“Hold on,” he hollers, still half drunk on the idea of being subject to your rage, “you think I don’t put this team at the top of all of my lists? Clearly, I love this stupid sport or I wouldn’t put so much damn time and effort into it!”

“If you love this sport, act like it.” Your jaw ticks before you march through the doorway, leaving him flustered in the mist of the courtyard.

…

He’s giving it one last go. If you won’t get angry with him, maybe he ought to just confess his feelings outright. This feels like the most rational he’s ever been. He even combed his hair extra carefully in hopes of you noticing.

Your friends quiet down when he approaches you in the mess hall, small flower pinched between his fingers, grin plastered across his face. You look a little annoyed but he’s pretty sure it’s just shock. And suddenly it feels like grade school when they all burst into giggles.

“This is for you—”

“Diggory.”

He cocks a brow. “Yeah?”

You grab the sleeve of his robes and drag him out into the hall, near slamming him into the stone wall. So much for his combed hair.

“What was that back there?” you hiss, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Well. I brought you a flower. It’s from the field—”

“I can see that!”—you’re frenzied searhcing for any possible explanation other than he has a head injury from falling—“Explain to me why.”

He looks confused and presents the flower again.“Isn’t it obvious?”

You look down at the flower. It’s small and white and looks so delicate in his hand. And you look at him. You suppose his pupils are a little extra dilated. “Are you poisoned? Or drunk?”

“No!”

You finally let go of him to gesture wildly. “Then what, Cedric—Merlin’s beard—What???”

“I brought you a flower,” he coos, tilting his head. You press two fingers to the bridge of your nose.

“Yeah, I got that part—”

“Hold on—hasn’t anyone ever given you something nice because… they like you?” Cedric hums, shuffling closer to you. Your eyes are glued to the tiny flower, but you won’t take it. Then you glare up at him.

“Is this a joke? Did the twins put you up to it?”

“No, just take the flower! I like you!” He sounds dastardly jovial, taking your wrist in one hand and presisng the flower to your palm with the other.

“What?” you scoff. Still staring down at the flower, making him wish his face was made of them so you’d look at him like that.

“Yeah,” he sighs.

And then you look at him. In the eyes. Perplexed, brows knitted, but you’re looking right at him and he could faint. Maybe it is a head injury.

“But I’m not… I’m not like…”

“Like what?” he asks.

“Well, it’s just—I’m confused because… you like pretty girls, and I’m not… that’s not what I do—am. What I am.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” he huffs.

“Cho is pretty,” you state.

“You’re pretty.”

“No, Cedric, I play quidditch. If I was pretty, I’d have a boyfriend,” you reason, shrugging your shoulders and giving him a real run for his money.

“And those things are connected… how?”

You scoff and relax a little when he puts his hands on his hips. So what if he’s incredibly handsome. So what if your friends want to see you together. So what if he’s the one person you don’t want to rip to shreds. It’s not like any of that matters. Right?

“It makes sense!” you say.

“No, it doesn’t. Can I be your boyfriend?”

“Diggory, don’t—”

“Is that a no?”

“Well, no! But you’re being rash! You’ll change your mind, and you’ll want your flower back!”

He shakes his head. “No. I gave you a flower because I think you’re very wonderful and very beautiful and I want to be your boyfriend.”

“But…”—he’s very amused by the fact that he’s made you flustered—“I sweat a lot!”

“So do I,” he chuckles, “we do play quidditch together, I hope you know.”

“Okay, okay, fine. We… argue!” you chirp.

“And you’re almost always right! Problem solved,” he says, “Now, would you be my girlfriend or do I have to get down on my knees?”

“No! I mean, yes! No, no, no knees, just… yes. I will be your girlfriend.”

Cedric smirks, taking the flower from your still open palm and tucking it behind your ear. Yesterday, he could barely say hello to you, and now he’s pulling you closer and tilting your chin up. His heart flutters when you palm his waist, and you smile when he leans a little closer.

“Are you going to kiss me?” you hum. He chuckles.

“Only if you’d like.”

You roll your eyes and smile. “Naturally.”

masterlist

#he fell first AND he fell harder #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory x fem!reader #cedric diggory x female reader #cedric diggory fanfiction #cedric diggory fluff #idiots in love #fluff #fanfic #hp universe #x reader #fanfiction #x fem!reader #cedric #Spotify

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moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

you did the james x hufflepuff prank story so good. BUT i think what would be so iconic is the reverse. IF a slytherin reader got tired of james and the gang's shenanigans against the slytherins and decides to get revenge which maybe goes a bit wrong?? i live for a little enemies to lovers haha!

Thanks for requesting my love!

cw: alcohol, spiked drinks

James Potter x slytherin!reader ♡ 1.4k words

You’d thought the only downside of your prank was that you wouldn’t get to see it happen. The best you could hope for was an overheard conversation in class about how the marauders had gotten drunk on the firewhiskey Sirius kept stored under his bed and had somehow ended up naked in the forbidden forest trying to befriend the faeries or something like that.

You certainly hadn’t expected James Potter to come knocking at the door to the Slytherin common room at nearly one in the morning.

Your scowl is immediate upon seeing him, more instinct than anything, but you're surprised that he almost matches it. James’ eyes are fierce, his hair in disarray and his lips downturned. He’s breathing hard like he’s run all the way here.

You raise a brow. “Can I help you?”

“One—” he pants. “One of you tampered with our alcohol. I need—need to know who.” He starts to push the door open, but you stop it with your foot. “Let me in.”

“That won’t be necessary,” you say coolly, though you’re more than a little alarmed by the grim set of the Gryffindor captain’s features. You don’t know James very well, but you’ve seen enough of him over the years to know that his geniality is usually unshakeable. Has a taste of his own medicine really gotten him this riled? “What’s happened to your alcohol, Potter, and why do you assume someone in Slytherin is responsible?”

James huffs. “I don’t know what’s happened to my alcohol. All I know is that I’ve got fifth-years in the common room flapping their arms and saying they’re going to join a dragon colony, and I need to know if there’s an antidote to give them.” He seems to anger with every word. His eyes narrow on you, and you never would have thought to find James Potter intimidating, but you’re something close to intimidated now. Your stomach does a little flip. “And when an entire party of Gryffindors gets roofied the night before our quidditch match with Slytherin, I’m bound to make some assumptions.”

“Take me to them.”

“What?”

“I might be able to help,” you say, forcing your shoulders back and your chin up a notch. “I’m good at potions, and it could take forever to track down the person who drugged your alcohol. Let me try to figure it out.”

James shakes his head at you, straightening his glasses. “I don’t have time to mess around.”

“I can tell.” You slide out of the opening in the door, shutting it behind you before James can think to dash through. “But I think I’m your best shot.” You start towards the Gryffindor rooms, hoping he’ll follow.

He does, jogging to catch up to your brisk strides. You don’t like the idea of wasting time any more than James does. Your prank was supposed to be contained, a little joke to get back at the small group of Gryffindor boys for their endless volley of pranks against your house. You were supposed to have the gratification of knowing you’d made fools of the marauders for one night, not roofie an entire party of innocent students. Well, Gryffindors. But still.

“How did you not end up drugged?” you ask as you walk.

“Quidditch match tomorrow,” James replies simply. “I didn’t want a hangover. Not,” he adds, “that I’ve ever had a hangover. I’m Head Boy; any drinking that happens in Gryffindor house is, of course, without my knowledge or participation.”

You have to bite back a small smile. “Of course.”

He murmurs the password to the fat lady as you approach, and you ignore the judgemental look she passes over your green robes as she swings aside, begrudgingly allowing you entry.

Your guilt increases tenfold at the scene in the common room.

Lily Evans has posted herself by the door, turning back students vying for exit. There is indeed a group of fifth-years waving their arms about and looking out the windows as if they’d take to the skies, and half of the Gryffindor quidditch team looks to be trying to start a match indoors.

James takes your hand when you linger too long by the entryway, tugging you through the crowd. You stop at a small table, where the empty bottle of firewhisky sits next to a giant bowl where they’ve apparently mixed it with coca cola or something. You lean down over the bowl, sniffing cautiously like you imagine you would if you didn’t know what it was. Thankfully, one ingredient has left a scent.

“Scurvy grass,” you say to James, straightening. “It’s the main ingredient in befuddlement draught.”

“S’exactly what I said,” Remus Lupin comments from the couch, seemingly speaking to a pillow he’s got in his lap. “We’ve all got scurvy.”

James ignores his friend, raising his eyebrows at you. “That was quick. Is there an antidote?”

You frown, letting the very real regret you’re feeling show in your expression. “None that I know of,” you reply. “It’s like alcohol, it just fades with time.”

James looks around the room worriedly. “How much time?”

You shake your head. “Not likely soon enough. Your best bet is getting everyone to bed. They’ll sleep it off.”

James takes a deep breath. “Alright, I can do that. Evans!” he calls, getting the Head Girl’s attention. “We’re to put them to bed.”

Lily nods, gathering a few girls from around her and herding them upstairs. James heads for the fifth-years, blabbering something about how dragons need rest to keep their fire hot. You don’t think that’s true, but the students start moving nonetheless, James keeping them going with words of encouragement each time they try to turn back.

“Could you just stay by the door?” he asks you as he follows them upstairs. “Make sure nobody leaves.”

You nod, posting yourself by the entryway and telling anyone that comes close to go to bed. Your persuasive skills aren’t up to par with James or Lily’s, but eventually they get everyone to their rooms, and James is the only one who comes back down the stairs.

He rubs harshly at his eyes, disrupting his glasses, and begins to clean up the mess of the party. You join him, gathering discarded cups and setting up a pile of left items (shoes and wands and even a pair of pants) by the fireplace.

“If you’re still worried about the match,” you say after awhile, “everyone should be fine by tomorrow morning. The effects of befuddlement draught don’t usually last for more than a few hours, and sleeping will help.”

“You seem somewhat of an expert on befuddlement draught,” James says lightly.

You flush, bending to pick up another cup. “It was on the OWLs. I studied hard.”

He hums noncommittally. “Well, I appreciate you coming to help clean up your own mess.”

You look at him, an inquiry as to what he could possibly mean already forming on your tongue, but the look on James’ face stops you. He knows. “It was only supposed to be you,” you say. “It was Black’s firewhiskey, I thought it would just be him, you, and maybe Lupin drinking it. I didn’t think you would share.”

James actually laughs at that. “Yes, sharing! How ridiculous of us.”

You huff, despising him for the shame twisting in your gut. “I’m just trying to tell you that it wasn’t my intention to spike the drinks of all of Gryffindor.” You narrow your eyes at him. “Maybe if you didn’t distribute your alcohol, these things wouldn’t happen.”

James crosses his arms. “As I’ve said, I would personally never distribute alcohol or endorse underage drinking. But it seems that, whatever may or may not have happened tonight involved a series of unfortunate accidents, which could have been avoided if several parties had been more responsible.”

You bristle at the veiled scolding. Frankly, James implicating himself as partially responsible for the night’s events doesn’t do much to alleviate your guilt either. He’s gone soft on you, the panic that had fueled his earlier breach in character worn away, and he’s back to his lighthearted, irritatingly nice self.

You can’t look at it, and you roll your eyes as you turn away, tossing the last cup into the trash bin on your way to the door. “See you at the match tomorrow, Potter.”

You can practically feel the warmth of his smile at your back. “See you there. And I’ll be keeping an eye on my drinks in the future, so don’t get it in your head to try it again!”

Oh, James can rest easy. You won’t.

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allyeardepression · 26 days

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@jegulus-microfic | may 3 rush | words: 1365

hiii! the idea for this one comes from @bey0nd-1he-stars and i really hope she likes it <3 anyway, enjoy;3

tw: implied child abuse in the past

“James, we’re already late, c’mon,” Regulus managed to say between heated kisses. In response, his boyfriend mumbled something he assumed was ‘just one more’.

It started innocently enough—when Regulus and Sirius ran from Grimmauld and came to live with the Potters, James spent most of the nights sleeping in one bed with the two of them. And since sleep always came easier to Sirius than to Regulus, at least half of those nights James and the younger brother spent talking—sometimes about what they were doing that day, sometimes planning a night out with their friends, and sometimes, on worse days, about how Regulus wishes he could still live with his parents, because no matter how badly they hurt him and his brother, they still were their parents, and he still loved them.

On those bad days, James always held the other boy close to his chest, letting him cry and spit out all the pain he had in himself, all while stroking his back in a soothing gesture.

As the time passed and the brothers started attending therapy, James stopped sleeping with them. Instead, every night Regulus sneaked out of his room, going straight to James’ bed. The talks about their friends turned into ones about their feelings. Sleepless nights filled with guilt and fear turned into nights filled with tenderness and small, sweet gestures. And with the end of August, those small, sweet gestures turned into dancing tongues and hands all over each other.

Not much has changed since then—they were still sneaking around to meet at night, coming up with excuses to their friends and professors when asked about why they were so tired or where they were in between classes. There was one new thing, though: before every Quidditch game, they left earlier than the rest of their teams, saying they had to discuss something with Madame Hooch. In fact, the one who had a match that day went to the equipment shed and waited for the other one to show up to give him a kiss for good luck.

Today, even though they both played, was no exception. They met 20 minutes before the teams were scheduled to arrive on the field, locked themselves in a shed, and kissed senselessly.

From behind the closed door, Regulus could hear voices getting closer and closer to them.

“James, I can hear Sirius,” the younger boy gasped, tugging at the other’s hair to pull him away. It worked, if James’ terrified face was anything to go by.

“Shit, we’ve got to go,” James mumbled, putting Regulus back down.

“You don’t say,” replied Regulus, arching one of his brows.

They left the shed together, carrying the big chest with balls inside it as a disguise. After putting it in the middle of the pitch, both of them went to their respective locker rooms, wishing each other luck teasingly.

“Where have you been?” Dorcas asked Regulus as soon as he entered the room. Giving her a questioning look, he went to his locker, taking out his gloves, the rest of his uniform already on him. “I went to Hooch looking for you—she said she hasn’t seen you today, so where have you been?”

“None of your business,” he grumbled in response.

“Oh, so you were with—“

“Shut up.” He practically ran to her, putting his hands over her mouth. “I don’t know how you know, but act as if you don’t know, okay?”

“What will I get in exchange?” She mumbled from behind his hands.

“If you don’t tell about mine, I won’t tell about yours, deal?” Now Dorcas’ eyes went wide, but she nodded in agreement.

***

An hour and a half after the match started, Gryffindor was leading by 50 points, and normally Regulus would be livid because of that, but seeing James smile every time he or one of his teammates scored was enough to soothe him.

The game wasn’t really violent—the buldgers were flying around as always trying to get to one of the players before beaters from their team sent the ball frying to the opposite team’s players, but nothing more dangerous than any other time.

Regulus was lingering over the pitch, looking for the snitch. Gryffindor’s seeker, a third-year girl named Abby Baker, was following his every move, so every now and then he took off, trying to lead her in the wrong direction.

He teased her like this for most of the game until he finally noticed a small golden ball flying just above the girl's head. He took a wide turn in her direction, lying almost flat on his broom and speeding as much as it allowed him. Abby didn’t get what was happening until Regulus passed her by. She was fast, at his tail at all times, yet still too slow to reach the snitch before him.

Regulus was so close to it that he could practically feel the ball’s little wings in his hand when his brother’s voice came to his ears.

“Prongs, watch out!” and then there was a loud thud and terrified screams from the stands. And if Regulus didn't know who 'Prongs' was, he probably wouldn't even bother checking what’s going on.

But it was James.

His James.

As soon as he turned his head to take a look at what was happening, he could feel all the blood rush out of his face. The familiar silhouette of the boy who showed him what a real family looks like and what love really is—the boy who saved him—was falling down at lightning speed, his broom nowhere to be seen.

Regulus didn’t think even for a second that his team would lose or that the whole school would find out about them—he just took another turn, going as fast as he could to not let his boyfriend crush into the dirt below them. It felt like chasing the snitch, only this one was much bigger and still harder to put your hands on.

“James, give me your hand!” He yelled, flying a bit lower and reaching his own hand out for the other boy to catch.

Regulus almost had him, but their palms were too sweaty, and James slipped out, flying down at breakneck speed again.

“Fuck!” the younger boy exclaimed, making a risky decision and flying straight down. This time he caught James hand; he held on to it, but they were too close to the ground to come out of this situation in one piece.

Until they weren’t.

Regulus doesn’t know what happened, but one second he was in the air, hoping for the best, and the next he stood steady on the pitch’s grass.

“What the fuck, guys?!” Regulus could hear Sirius shouting from behind him, but he didn’t care about his brother right now—all he cared about was James.

“Are you okay? Where does it hurt? What even happened?” he was asking, checking every part of his boyfriend’s body to make sure he wasn’t hurt too badly. “Who sent the buldger? I swear I’m going to—“

“Reg, I’m fine. Look,” James said, shaking each one of his limbs and turning his head in different directions. “See? Nothing happened; I just need a new broom.”

“Nothing happened? Nothing happened?! James, you could’ve broken every bone in your body; hell, you could’ve died! Imagine it was you and not your broom, your parents—Sirius—and me! We would all die just from—“

“Hey, hey, hey,” suddenly James’ hands were on his cheeks, thumbs brushing away tears. When have I even started to cry? “I know you were scared; I was scared, too. But you caught me; nothing really bad happened; we’re both okay.” He pulled Regulus closer, putting him in a warm embrace. “It’s okay, love; we’re okay.”

They stood there, hugging for Merlin knows how long before Regulus realized what they were doing. He didn’t pull away when he said, “You know we’re in the middle of the pitch and everyone can see us, don’t you?”

“Yeah, baby, I know,” James whispered into his hair, still caressing his back gently.

And so they stood there, not caring about the world around them or Sirius screaming about incest—they just hugged, glad they were both okay.

#jegulus #james potter #regulus black #james x regulus #starchaser #sunseeker #the marauders #dead gay wizards #jegulus microfic #quidditch #gryffindor x slytherin #1k words or more #by: allyeardepression #hogwarts au #harry potter fandom #harry potter

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emeritusemeritus · 9 months

Text

Fred Weasley headcanons

Just a few personal headcanons for our man, NSFW under the cut 🌹

SFW ✨

Still considers you his best friend even though you’re together now (you and George being tied in first place).

Calls you princess and sweetheart (both of which started as sarcastic remarks that stuck around and are now used as endearments).

Always ready to kiss you. Doesn’t care who’s around, once he can be open about your relationship he’ll kiss you anywhere, and passionately - except for in front of his mother.

Actual menace at school. You’re walking to your next class and you pass him in the halls? He lifts you up and spins you, shouts out your name across crowded, echoing corridors to embarrass you. One time he lifted you up onto the stone pillars outside charms and left you there. You had to wait to be rescued by Ron who was luckily passing by.

You tease each other constantly, bantering back and forth. He’s heard more ginger jokes from you than anyone else in his life, but he knows just how much you love him and his red hair so there is never any malice behind it, the same with his teasing of you. It all comes from a place of love and familiarity.

He’s a natural prankster and takes great pride in it but he knows your limits and would never intentionally cross them. One time he did inadvertently go too far and he’s apologised profusely and had been torn up about it, trying to win back your trust in anyway he could. George still says that it’s the only time he’d seen Fred be actually remorseful in his life.

Throws notes to you in study hall, usually by scrunching up large balls of parchment and throwing them directly at you, bonus points if he manages to bounce them off of your head. Always followed by a sickly sweet smile or a wink.

As much as he teases you, he’s the only one truly allowed to (even George is warned sometimes).

LOVES seeing you wear his clothes, specifically his jumpers or his old quidditch T-shirt’s that you sleep in. It makes his little possessive brain twitch seeing you wear his clothes so openly in front of the whole school, declaring that you’re his.

Looks for you at every one of his Quidditch games- it gives him a boost of confidence to know that you’re cheering for him. Wanting to impress you, he always plays harder and better, putting on a show.

The first time you’d attended a quidditch game as his official girlfriend, you had worn his green ‘F’ jumper and he nearly fell off his broom once he’d realised.

He’s incredibly supportive as a friend and boyfriend. Even though he knows that he is seen as the ‘meaner’ twin, he has a true sweetness to him that most people overlook but he’d do anything for you and his friends, even at great personal risk. He supports you in everything you want to do and always looks after you if you get stressed or disheartened whilst chasing your dreams.

He’s especially protective of Ginny, taking his role of older brother very seriously. He still says that he fell truly in love with you the moment he saw you running up and confronting Malfoy, who had been teasing Ginny after the whole Chamber of Secrets event. Upon seeing the commotion, Fred had run to help her, followed closely by George, but you had gotten there first and had verbally berated the bully before punching him square in the nose. You then pulled Ginny away, cast your arm around her protectively and had begun escorting her back to the common room even though you were originally going the other way. Only when you had met up with Fred and George did you eventually leave her and go to your destination, making sure that she was comfortable and safe with her brothers before leaving. You’d received a letter home and detention for three weeks for punching Malfoy and another late night detention for being late to class but you still maintained that it was worth it.

Will throw hands without a second thought at anyone who disrespects you. He’s incredibly protective and won’t hesitate to throw a punch at anyone who violates your boundaries. Minimal offences still demand punishment and it’s common for anyone who crosses you to suspiciously find themselves with boils, purple hair or spontaneously vomiting the next day.

He’s surprisingly needy in private and loves to cuddle. Loves having his hair stroked and played with. Always has to be touching you in some way, even just your feet touching in bed or a hand absently placed on your hip.

Cannot cook to save his life, even with the assistance of magic.

He LOVES being a twin but he’s actually terrified of having twins once you start trying for a baby.

NSFW🌹

Will try anything once. Fact.

He’s a master with his fingers. He knew how much you loved his hands even before you were together, having caught you staring at them multiple times. They’re long, thin and incredibly skilled.

Makes it his personal mission in life to learn every single one of your pleasure points and can anticipate your every reaction just by the sounds you make, having learnt each and every one.

Had a definite breeding kink but doesn’t actually want kids yet. The idea of knocking you up and seeing you pregnant makes him harder than he ever thought possible. It’s his dirty little secret.

Dirty talk champ- he knows how much you love his voice and how much it gets you off when he whispers absolute filth to you in the middle of sex but it absolutely riles him up too. It’s less of a calculated dialogue and more of a dirty, running commentary on how well he’s fucking you.

Big fan of quickies. He’ll literally fuck you anywhere if the mood arises, which is always. As much as he loves to tease you and make you wait, savouring your body, there’s nothing like a quick, hard fuck in his book.

Definite size kink. He’s 6ft 3 and you are definitely not. Along with this comes a specific show of dominance, his height making him tower over you which makes him feel powerful and in control.

Although it depends on the overall mood, he’s mostly still playful and teasing even during sex, as are you. Occasionally you will try and throw each other off their game. One time you purposefully moaned out Snape’s name to throw him off and it caused a three minute intermission as you both had to stop and laugh. He then swiftly pulled out of you, spanked you and then proceeded to fuck you harder as ‘punishment’ for moaning another man’s name.

He’s absolutely feral for you wearing skirts.

He likes the idea of public sex but after you were both once accidentally caught by George, he decided that he hated the thought of anyone but him seeing you like that and put an end to your more risky escapades. Semi-public is still fine, of course.

#emeritusemeritus #harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #emeritusemerituswrites #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley masterlist #Fred Weasley headcanons #headcanon

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