Hiiiii um I really need needy ron Weasley x f!reader.
I need hastily pulled into an abandoned classroom out of nowhere bc he misses you and needs to give you head :3
wc: 1.3k
warnings: semi-public sex, oral (f!receiving), naked dry humping, handjob.
It was all because of these stupid N.E.W.T exams that you took oh so seriously. Had you cared as much (or little) as Ron did, he wouldn't have his head laying in book pretending to work whilst Harry and Hermione studied around him wishing that he was with you instead. To him it's not only been hours since he'd seen you; it's been days, weeks, months, and he couldn't possibly be craving you any more.
"Ron. Ron! Oh dear, what's his problem?" He hears Harry chuckle at Hermione's words, his attention now completely on Ron. "You alright mate?" Ron only shakes his head with a groan, looking up at his friends who stare at him with two very different looks on their face. "Are we missing a certain someone?" Teases Harry, who yelps when Hermione hits him on the shoulder with a book. The two start bicker and Ron gets up, deciding to leave to his dorm.
Once he's there, laying down on his bed, he longingly gazes at the polaroid of you with your arms wrapped around him, giving him a big celebratory kiss for his first ever Quidditch win while the rest of the Gryffindor house cheered for you. He whines, lightly rutting his hips into his mattress. He needed you. Now.
To his luck, the next day was a Saturday - famously known as the Hogsmeade day at Hogwarts, meaning the halls would be mostly empty. Unfortunately for him, it meant that you would be using the unusual silence to your advantage and study until the rest of the students came back from their trip. So when he spotted you in the hallway, rummaging through your tote bag as you made your way to the library, he quickened his pace to catch up to you.
"Hey baby." He spoke when he caught up to you, finally slowing down, panting slightly. Your head shot up in surprise and you grinned, looking at you boyfriend. "Ron!" He quickly looked left and right, then decided the hallway was empty enough to give you a hug, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling his head into your neck. "Hey sweetheart." He murmured, the sound muffling against your skin.
You pulled away from him slightly to press a soft kiss against his lips, and that's when he snapped. His hands migrated to grip your hips tightly and he opened his mouth slightly, licking your bottom lip for access. You gasped, eyes shooting open in shock when Ron slipped his tongue in your mouth, before you closed them, allowing yourself to enjoy the short moment. You were panting when Ron pulled away, but before you got to ask him anything, he was grabbing your hand and dragging you into the first empty classroom he could find.
You didn't have time to process what was happening as Ron muttered a quiet locking spell, before wrapping his arms around your waist once more and picking you up, placing you on closest desk he could find and falling onto his knees in front of you. "Ron!" You gasped, trying to get a hold of his wrist as he dragged your underwear down your thighs. "Shh baby, it's okay." He stated, dipping his head under your skirt. His arms hooked under each of your thighs, spreading them wider for him and he blew cold air straight into your core, causing you to shiver, your face flushing pink.
Your hands gripped his hair tightly and you bit back a moan as soon as Ron started leaving open mouthed kisses on your thighs, taking his time with you. The second you whimpered a small "please" his composure broke, and he moaned loudly, immediately pressing his mouth against your naked pussy. He sucked harshly on your clit and dipped his tongue into your entrance, feasting on you like a starved man, as though he had never tasted you before.
You pushed his head deeper into your core, allowing him to eagerly lick deeper into your folds, as your legs started to tremble. Ron groaned into you, muttering "Let me hear those pretty moans darling", which caused you to practically melt around him, the moans you were holding back now coming out of you with no way of being stopping. Your legs squeezed tighter around his head, and your hips rolled against him, but Ron's strong arms spread them wider, and the cold air to hit you, sending your hips bucking into him.
He flipped your skirt up, allowing you a clear view of Ron shoving his face into you, his nose rubbing against your clit perfectly. You whined, throwing your head back, starting to incoherently beg "Please, please Ronnie." Ron moaned into you at the use of the nickname only you were ever allowed to call him. He focused on your clit, suckling on it desperately as he brought down one of his hands from your thighs, immediately inserting two thick fingers into you and pumping them at an unforgiving pace inside you.
He cured his fingers so they hit your g-spot deliciously and you cried out, tears starting to form in your eyes. "Please, please" you chanted, your legs beginning to tremble at the overstimulation on your more vulnerable parts. Ron was vocal about his pleasure, the vibrations from his groans sending you over the edge. You tugged at Ron's hair, legs clamping shut and back violently arching while he rode you through your orgasm, his fingers slowing down inside you as he said words of affirmation to you. "There you go sweetheart, you did so well darling."
Ron sighed in satisfaction when he pulled his fingers out of you, the hand still on your thigh caressing you slightly as you caught your breath. You looked down at Ron and whimpered at the look of admiration he gave you, your orgasm covering his face, with his red hair sticking to his forehead.
You tried reaching for his shirt to pull him up, but understanding what you meant, he got up from his knees, proudly displaying he tent in his trousers, and cupped a hand around the back of your neck to pull you into a sloppy kiss. You moaned at the taste of your own juices, and pulled Ron in deeper, slipping your tongue into his mouth. You grabbed at his shirt, almost losing balance from your place on the small desk, and tugged him closer to you, his boner now flush against your bare cunt. "Fuck y/n" he groaned, his hips moving against you on their own. "At least take your trousers off" You whine, fiddling with his belt.
Ron's hand take their place to undo his belt, toying with the button on his pants while you take your turn leaving kisses on his neck, sucking on the soft spot under his ear while he whimpers, freeing himself from his constraints and immediately beginning to grind his hips against yours, the tip of his dick catching on your clit, making you both moan in unison. You buck your hips into his, moaning when you look down and see how desperately Ron tries to get himself off.
Your hand comes up to his face, and you push it towards you until you can slam your lips against his, your other hand fisting at his dick. Ron moans loudly when you start moving your hand up and down, squeezing him at the shaft. He humps his hips up into your hand, his mouth opening as he gasps a moan, deepening the kiss while doing so, and you feel him releasing onto your hand and his abdomen.
You expect him to pull away from the kiss so he can catch his breath, but when you try moving away from him, his arms wrap tighter around your waist, impossibly deepening the kiss before he finally separates from you.
"I fucking love you." He pants, his head leaning on your shoulder, and despite everything, you giggle, kissing his soft cheek, before saying "I love you too."
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Second Son (Epilogue) | Regulus Black
Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.
— Chapter Synopsis: The new era. The end of one chapter, and the beginning of another.
Part XIX / Series Masterlist
Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader
Notes: Thank you all so much.
You peer out of the fenestrated walls, eyes glazing over the faint swinging of wooden signs and veranda covers. The ambience around you swirls like a sheer veil as you lean back into your seat, sighing out blissfully as your cooling charm beats with fervor, shielding you from the blistering heat of the summer day.
Dragging your eyes away from the bright view, you run your finger along the thick cardstock in front of you. The blocky letters begin to fade into the background of snowy mountain caps and faded waterfalls as you continue to trace your eyes over it.
‘Greetings from OREGON’
You flip the postcard over and swipe a finger across the swirly letters.
‘Hope you’re well, kid. - A. Fiske’
A sudden thudding noise echoes across from you, and you slowly shift to sit straight as your eyes drag themselves away from the letters. You tilt your head with a coy smile as your companion leans back to get comfortable, evidently miffed by the unrelenting heat waves.
“Good to see you, B.” You smile saccharinely, fingers dancing along the chilled cup in front of you.
Blaise rolls his eyes and places his own drink down on the table—iced americano, simple, bitter, and everything that Blaise wasn’t. You would never understand his fascination with the drink. He huffs before smiling sarcastically at you, “Yes, how long has it been? Two days?”
“Don’t whine, it’s unbecoming.” You mutter playfully, twirling your straw around the rim of your cup.
“Merlin, you’re even starting to sound like her. Really, no wonder mother finds you so endearing.” He tuts as he throws his elbow back to rest on the back of his chair.
You chuckle and shake your head, “Okay, let’s digress then.” You lean forward and cross your legs, “How is Draco doing? Theo is irritatingly uninformed on the topic.”
“He’s alright, thanks to you and Potter anyway. His father might not be facing a long sentence, but many of the elected Wizengamot heads are shifty even with your statements. Lucius Malfoy has been a slippery eel for a few years too long.” He hums, face unflinching as he sips on his potent drink, “How the mighty have fallen so.”
Nodding, your voice drops lower as you survey the rest of the cafe, “Azkaban will still do a number on him even with a lighter sentence. Narcissa is worried.”
“As she should be,” he replies curtly, “and speaking of Azkaban, how is Lord Black nowadays? He’s become quite the hermit. Is he faring well?”
You sigh and rub your chin, “Yeah, he’s just been busy with remodeling. He’s still quite miffed that Reggie and I decided to move out.”
“At least he has Potter with him.” Blaise supplies, eyes darkening in rumination at the mention of Regulus. He levels you with inquisitive eyes, “Before I forget, what should I send over?”
Furrowing your eyebrows, you hum, “How do you mean?”
“Your house warming gift, daft one.” He rolls his eyes lightly.
“Just bring your lovely self.” You huff out.
Blaise crosses an ankle over his knee, “A vase then.”
“If it clashes with the aesthetic then I’m tossing it into the basement.” You warn jokingly, smiling widely at your friend.
He shakes his head with a muffled chuckle, “No worries. Anyways, you still need to unpack, right? Need any help?”
“Oh? Work not keeping you busy enough?” You rest back against your chair, head bleeding with thoughts about how taxing work has been in the past few months with the Ministry trying to dial the reconstruction process to an inconceivable pace.
Blaise groans at the reminder, taking a long sip of his drink, “Merlin, they should rename the whole Department! Department of International Magical Cooperation? What a joke, all they do is sit in an oval and squabble.”
You throw your head back to laugh, a feathery light bubble of relief expanding in your chest. It was mind-boggling to think that not even a year ago you were all fighting for your lives, and now the same backdrop of fear that followed everyone around for so many years had disintegrated. People strided through halls and streets with lifted shoulders and bright eyes, war-hardened, but jovial as their burdens gave way.
Blaise had worked his way up the Department of International Magical Cooperation, often leaving meetings with a sharp migraine and dwindling hope in the frequency of common sense. Theodore was faring well, now a highly revered Unspeakable for the Time Branch, all made possible with his swift denouncement of his father. Draco was the more withdrawn one out of the three, but you held out hope for him, having corresponded with him over his budding fascination for Alchemy.
You found that your new friends were on your mind often, and you were endlessly grateful to them as they took Regulus’ reintegration into society with stride, often giving you advice on how to politely tell inquisitive reporters to bugger off. Meetings with them were slowly becoming a rarity as all of you became engrossed in work, but your friendships remained resolute as you all quickly became each other’s closest confidants.
Luna wrote to you often, and you sent her trinkets and snacks by the dozen, finding yourself constantly worried that others would mistreat the girl with the absence of your friend group. Luckily, the girl found a friend in Ginny, and you were looking forward to reuniting with her during her Summer Break.
Harry and Ron were inducted into the Auror ranks by Shacklebolt only a few weeks after the war. You had your reservations about their decision to jump into such a high-risk job, the stench of carnage and battle throbbing like an open wound, but they insisted that they would never be able to focus enough to finish school.
On the opposite side of that sentiment, there was Hermione. She had quickly delved back into Hogwarts’ curriculum amidst its reconstruction, and was now looking to you with hopeful words about beginning her own sabbatical.
You had published your research under both yours and Regulus’ name, omitting information about Regulus’ discovery of sentient portraits as a precaution for the future.
You both respected Anders’ wish to leave his name off the cover and the research, but he failed to warn you against leaving his name anywhere else, so simply on the first page of your book, you dedicated the findings to him and Asger with a simple ‘For A. & A. Fiske.’
The research was groundbreaking, to say the least. You wouldn’t be able to forget the swaths of letters and documents from the Ministry, and one very heated missive to you from Blaise about how he was even more swamped with work, many foreign countries reaching out to inquire about the findings.
It all paid off though, the royalties you and Regulus got would sustain you both for the rest of your humble lives, and the boost on your portfolio made getting a job in the Department of Mysteries a cakewalk.
Once the sun rolled across the cloudless sky, the singing blues morphing to hues of pinks and purples, you bid your friend goodbye, wishing him luck with work and promising to gather with the rest of your friends the following week.
You were certain that apparition was the most useful skill you had in your toolbelt, and you couldn’t fathom how you managed to survive the majority of your life without such a feat. As your shoes pad against the pavement, the bristling of leaves skidding around you, you let out a content sigh as you approach your destination.
It was the closest thing you had to home for so long, and it still felt like safety and comfort despite the sudden heaviness of your own house keys in your pocket. As you pop the door open, head peeking around the heavy wood, your face lights up as a figure comes into view.
“You’re home!” You exclaim excitedly, stepping inside with a wide grin.
Harry approaches you and gives you a fleeting hug, hand raising to adjust his glasses as he pulls back, “Yeah, Tonks let me off early. How was your meeting with Blaise?”
“Good,” you draw out suspiciously, eyes narrowing as you both pace through the dim walkway, “how’d you know about that?”
“Regulus.” He answers simply, eyebrows raising in tease as you huff.
You both cross into the threshold of the kitchen, stopping in your tracks as you see countless manuals splayed across the wide berth of the table. Regulus and Sirius are both hunched over in their seats, flipping furiously through the catalogues.
“Some light reading, Sirius?” Your voice rings out playfully, body already moving towards your squinting boyfriend. Both men shoot up from their positions and blink owlishly at you and Harry, the sea of papers long forgotten.
“Furniture shopping, pup!” Sirius replies with a tired grin as he stretches his arms over his head.
Regulus rises from his chair and meets you halfway, arms wrapping securely around your body as he burrows his face into the crook of your neck. A few more moments pass by before he cranes back and blinks slowly at you, “Birdie.”
You run a hand through his curls and smile lightly, “Love.”
Regulus keeps you secure to him as he moves to drop back down into his seat, leaning his head against your stomach as you remain standing. Your eyes drop down to look at the varying bleak images on the shining white pages.
Raising your eyebrows, your eyes drift around an image of a steep bookshelf with two glass doors, “Is this for us or Sirius?”
Sirius leans back in his seat and rubs the bridge of his nose, “Your place. Reggie helped me pick out a few pieces earlier.”
Your eyes wander around the aged cabinets and drabby wallpaper, trying to envision the space in a remodeled visual, one that would be Sirius-esque rather than screaming of cobwebs and medieval torture. You smile minutely before reaching a hand out across the table, bringing your other hand to card through Regulus’ hair as you mutter quietly to the tired man across from you, “I’m happy for you, Sirius.”
The man reciprocates your smile and clasps his hand in yours, “Thank you, pup. I’m happy for you too,” he huffs and glances at Regulus, who remained immobile against your stomach, “the both of you.”
The tender moment continues for a few more beats before Harry slowly leans on the seat next to Sirius’, eyes scrutinizing a forgotten pile of booklets off to the older man’s left, “Sirius, where are we going to put a lion table?”
You snort out a muffled laugh as the man swivels over to his godson with beaming eyes, knowing that Harry would be whining to you later about Sirius’ ineptitude at interior decorating.
“You should start cleaning up, Remus will be here soon for dinner.” You murmur with a pointed look at the trio.
As the final outlines of the sun slinks away in the horizon, you and Regulus bid farewell to the occupants of Grimmauld Place, intent on spending the rest of the night in your home. It was fortunate that Regulus had managed to set up the floo network to your home only a matter of days before, and the journey back left little room for complaints as the green flames dragged away from your vision.
You step out into the darkness of your study room, ears perking imperceptibly when the network flares again as Regulus joins you. The twilight sky filters into your home, dimly illuminating the barren room.
“We’re home.” You mutter with a content smile.
Regulus slowly pads towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he sways you both. Your eyes are drawn to the French casement windows behind the desk, getting lost in the sight of the dancing flower field.
“Shall we head to the cliff, birdie?” Regulus muses, eyes following your gaze as he drifts into rumination.
You nod and reluctantly step forward, pivoting on your heel and dropping a hand onto Regulus’ arm, “I’ll meet you at the front? I need to drop off a few things in the bedroom.”
“Of course, baby.” He leans over to capture your lips in a soft kiss, hands dropping to your hips as he lightly grips onto you.
Humming against his lips, you slowly pull back and rub a thumb across his cheek, “I’ll be quick, promise.”
He pecks your lips again and gives you one last squeeze before he slowly backs away, shooting you a warm smile as he makes his way to the entryway. You retreat from the study room soon after, making a sharp right turn as you pace towards your shared bedroom.
Regulus had been the one to bring up the idea of getting a beach house, assuring you that he was unsettled by still water and not turbulent waves. It was a quaint building, one that sprouted into the center of a lustrous flower garden, and you both knew it was the one when you toured it. Just a short walk away from the blooming fields, a precipitous cliffside broke away and loomed over a thick landing of sand, giving a small brief from the swaying waves
As you enter the lusterless room, you shed away your bag and walk towards your bedside table, propping the Oregon postcard against your lamp. Atop the same white bedside table sat Regulus’ old golden frame, now whole and without trace of ever having been shattered. Under the frame, the folded piece of paper that Regulus had given you the night after you bought the property peeked out.
You grasp both items in your hands, and smile lightly as an idea formulates in your head.
“Kreacher!” You call lightly.
The house-elf pops into the bedroom with a curious frown, teetering towards you as you extend the items out. You fish out your wand as Kreacher grabs the frame, muttering a faint engorgio at the rectangular object. The frame wobbles in the elf’s grasp before slowly stretching to nearly thrice its original size.
“Could you possibly frame this note for me? Maybe above the headboard?” You request with a small smile.
“Kreacher will do that.” The house elf nods and begins to fiddle with the frame.
Your eyes run across the note one more time before you hand the slip to the elf, making your way out to Regulus with a fleeting farewell. The boy has a jacket slung over his arm as he waits for you by the door, carding his hair back as a flicker of joy flashes through his eyes when you appear in his line of sight.
“All ready?” He murmurs once you reach him.
“More than ready.” You reply with a hum, leaning to peck his cheek.
The trek towards the cliffside passes by in the blink of an eye, and you’re left with butterflies in your stomach as Regulus picks several tulips for you along the way. By the time you’re close enough to the ocean to hear the crashing of waves, you are left to huddle close to Regulus for warmth.
The sky begins to darken above you, but you give no protest when Regulus drags you to sit down on the ground. He peers up at the sky above him, eyes tracing across the faint twinkles of the approaching stars.
You bring a hand to trace his chest as you do the same, cradling the flowers to your side as you begin to sift through the reel of memories in your head.
“I love you, birdie.” Regulus whispers into the air, his arm moving to rest on your waist.
You smile widely and press your face into the crook of his neck, “I love you.”
And as you both laid under the stitches of glowing stars, sharing tiny whispers and shielding each other from the brutal winds, back in your home, Kreacher makes the last adjustments to the new wall decor.
Kreacher mutely assesses the space as he backs out, the elf’s head full of future possibilities.
It was peaceful. After so many years, he felt at peace.
The door closes with a faint click just as the stars peek through the bedroom window, reflecting off the glowing frame. The swirls of inks encapsulated in the shining beams dance amongst the canvas of the wall.
‘29 October, 1979
I wonder what being in love feels like.
26 April, 1999
Love is like flying freely from the inhibitions of your burdens, where your person is your wings, your eyes, and your heart; you soar freely with the knowledge that they will carry you above the storms of doubt. I no longer wonder because now I know.’
Fin.
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