#pov: harry

[moonbread123-wattpad]

Y/n: I'm a badass feminist who doesn't need a man. Y/n: *steals Harry's hoodies* Y/n: *needs help opening bottles* Y/n: *needs constant attention*

Harry: I survived Voldemort as a baby, I'm the definition of independent. Harry: *needs cuddles to sleep* Harry: *constantly jealous of Y/n's plushies* Harry: *needs to be reminded that Y/n will not leave her for that really hot dickhead down the street*

[tommarvoloriddlesdiary]

41

i don't know what i did with this, and i'm certain it's not what you meant - but here's your fic for 41. "...because the world is saved."

~

Ash falls like snow, peppering Harry’s hair and coating the scattered stones of Hogwarts, softening their jagged, ruined edges.

Harry stands at its centre, his wand still warm and loosely dangling in his grip. His chest rises and falls as he catches his breath. He feels Voldemort before he sees him, fighting a wince as his scar throbs faintly. Voldemort’s presence had stopped feeling oppressive ages ago… so it must be all that hovering he’s doing over Harry’s shoulder—too close, too familiar, too worried.

“You were reckless,” Voldemort says, right when Harry feels the reprimand building in the air reach its boiling point. Voldemort’s voice is hoarse from battle, his face streaked with dirt and blood. Harry knows it isn’t his; he frowns at Voldemort nonetheless.

When Harry turns, he physically feels the weight of his exhaustion. It pulls down his shoulders, droops his head, and lines his face. Suddenly, he can’t imagine that he looks much better. “Reckless worked, didn’t it?” He asks, just to be annoying.

Voldemort’s mouth spasms in something that might be amusement or disdain—it’s hard to tell. “Barely. If you had died before finishing the incantation, they would all be dead.”

‘Again.’ Hovers in the air, silent and stretching.

“Well,” Harry huffs, “you’d have just had to try and save everyone on your own.” And he can’t help himself when he reaches up to thumb at the drying blood on Voldemort’s face—the near flinch he feels under his attention is so so satisfying. “Isn’t that right?”

He tilts his head away from Harry’s touch and sighs long and low. “You are insufferable, Harry Potter.”

Harry pulls his hand back easily, and a smile tugs up his lips. “Stop suffering me, then?”

The throbbing of his scar had faded with Voldemort’s settling (his needling is a way of reassuring himself, Harry now knows), but it’s back with a vengeance. Harry flinches this time. “Hey now, it’s just a joke—ease up, would you?” He waves Voldemort off, cooling him down or fanning the flames? He never has the slightest clue. 

For a moment, Voldemort says nothing; his dark eyes study Harry’s face like he’s almost got him all figured out, like he constantly unearths more questions with every answer, like if he just looks at Harry long enough—he’ll understand him completely. It’s been happening a lot lately. Harry’s not sure how there’s much left of him to discover with the way Voldemort digs and pries. 

The pain gets worse and spikes to near unbearable before abruptly fading altogether. Voldemort rolls his eyes when he says, “Your humour remains of poor taste.”

Harry opens his mouth to retort, something sharp and teasing to ease the odd silence and to avoid the masses a bit longer, but the words catch somewhere in his throat. His humour isn’t for anyone but himself to enjoy, yet a slight hint of guilt forms in the pit of his stomach. It makes home next to the strange tension that hasn’t let up since Voldemort caught sight of Harry from across the battlefield. He doubts Voldemort has stopped watching him since. 

The look on Voldemort’s face—half-exasperation, half something else—roots him in place. It’s a superficial crack in the otherwise unyielding wall, and Harry wants to see more, wants to pry back.

“You’re staring,” Harry says, his voice quieter now, though the quip still lingers on his lips. It feels too fragile to tease properly.

“You are hard to ignore,” Voldemort replies, his tone just shy of biting. The words lack venom, and something in the way his gaze shifts—falling briefly to Harry’s mouth before darting away—makes Harry’s stomach twist.

The words stamp themselves into the walls of Harry’s mouth before he has the good sense to think about them. “Then don’t.”

Voldemort freezes. He’s eerily still usually, but Hary can feel this pause like he’s stopped the very air around them. It feels alive, heavy, charged with magic—residue from all the fighting? Or is it all from Voldemort himself? And Harry doesn’t know why he said it, doesn’t know why his heart is hammering, but it doesn’t stop him from taking half a step closer.

“I do not think this—” Voldemort starts, his voice low, but Harry cuts him off without a second thought.

“Quit thinking for once,” Harry says a bit too forcefully, his fingers curling instinctively into Voldemort’s robes. His exhaustion somehow vanishes with the movement, like touching Voldemort, even barely grazing, renews him, every nerve alive and burning.

For a second that feels like eternity, neither of them moves. Harry really wants to. But now his brain seems to be operating like usual, possibly even thinking for the both of them, and it’s swearing up and down that he might have pushed too far…

But then Voldemort leans in. It’s not sudden, nor is it hesitant—it’s deliberate, as though he’s weighing every centimetre of the distance between them and making peace with crossing it. Their lips meet, soft and strangely tentative despite Voldemort’s near-constant certainty in his every action—though, has ever truly been certain around Harry? Especially recently?

Voldemort’s hand brushes against his jaw, cool and surprisingly steady. Harry’s breath catches in his chest, his hand tightening slightly in Voldemort’s robes as if to anchor himself. 

It lasts only a few moments, but it’s enough to leave Harry reeling when they part, their foreheads nearly touching. Ash still falls around them, the quiet of Hogwarts’ ruins amplifying Harry’s heartbeat. He needs to will it quiet, needs to let go of Voldemort, needs to rethink his life’s choices—

“Reckless,” Voldemort murmurs, his voice tinged with something like disbelief, cutting through Harry’s spiralling thoughts.

Harry lets out a shaky laugh, his smile soft but undeniably smug. “Yeah, well. Reckless works, doesn’t it?”

This time, Voldemort doesn’t argue.

~

i hope you like it 🥹

[handledwithgloves]

[zipper-ghost]

Harry "can opener" du Bois

[girllblogging777]

𝐴𝐹𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑆𝑇𝑂𝑅𝑀.ೃ࿐

↳ bf!mattheo riddle x fem reader (slight angst ? fluff) requested by @ilovematteoxx ♡

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 1.2k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : you can’t find your boyfriend after an argument, and the castle is surrounded by dementors

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

the argument had started over something small. ridiculously small, actually. you couldn’t even remember the details anymore, but somehow, the two of you had managed to let it escalate and before you knew it, mattheo and you were throwing sharp words like hexes.

your boyfriend, as loving as he was, had a way of getting under your skin sometimes. he was all about teasing smirks and cocky grins that usually made you laugh, but tonight you weren’t laughing. tonight, you were tired and on edge from a long week of classes and when he joked about you taking things too seriously, something inside of you snapped.

“not everyone has the luxury of not giving a damn, mattheo.” you’d answered with your arms crossed. “not everyone has parents who don’t care.”

the moment the words left your lips, you swore you could’ve felt the air shift. it was like time froze, everything suddenly stood still and went way too quiet. mattheo’s expression shifted, the usual soft gaze he saved for you disappearing. you saw how the hurt flickered in his dark eyes, before he quickly covered it with cold indifference.

“forget it,” he said sharply before walking out, turning his heel and disappearing out of the common room before you could even get a word out.

you stood there, frozen, the weight of your words slowly sinking in. merlin, you hadn’t meant it like that. in fact, you hadn’t meant to hurt him at all. but you had and now he was gone, and you didn’t even know where.

you couldn’t focus on anything for the rest of the evening and as wandered around the castle - silently hoping you’d bump into him around the corner - the hallways felt emptier than ever. dinner passed in a blur too. every time someone entered the great hall and sat down at the slytherin table, you quickly looked up, only to realise it wasn’t him.

you spent the rest of the night alone in your dorm, laying in bed and staring at the ceiling, trying and failing to get any sleep. your last conversation kept replaying in your head, what if you’d really hurt him this time ? what if he didn’t come back ? sure, mattheo had his walls, but he never stayed mad at you for long… your mind spiralled. outside the window, everything was dark and still. inside your heart, everything was twisted in knots.

and then, just as you were finally drifting off, a loud noise jolted you awake. it wasn’t just you either, you heard frantic footsteps outside your dorm, and voices raising as well. you sat up, heart pounding and confused. it wasn’t long before a frantic knock echoed through the door, and your best friend pansy came in.

“you have to get up, everyone is being taken to the great hall. now !” she said quickly. “what’s happening ?” you asked in a panicky tone as you got out of bed. “dementors,” she muttered, pulling you outside and rushing you to join the many students making their way through the dark halls. “they’ve been spotted outside.”

your heart skipped a beat. dementors.

the crowd of students rushed to the great hall, tension filling the air, already thick with worry and whispers. you scanned the faces around, searching for any signs of mattheo. but he wasn’t there. he wasn’t anywhere.

“pansy,” you breathed, tugging on her sleeve as realisation dawned on you. “i don’t see mattheo. where is he ?”

she shrugged, concern flickering in her eyes “don’t know, i haven’t seen him since this afternoon”

you swallowed hard, your chest tightening. where was he ? the last time you saw him was when he’d left after the argument, angry and hurt. what if he was outside when the dementors had left ? what if… what if the last thing you said to him was the stupid comment about his father ?

your breathing picked up and theo noticed it from across the room, before making his way over. “what’s going on ?” he asked with furrowed brows.

“i can’t find mattheo,” you whispered with a trembling voice. “we had a fight earlier and now he’s probably out there, and-“

theo exchanged a knowing look with pansy before cutting you off by gently pulling you into a reassuring side hug “he’s fine, amore. probably just running late, you know him, always slipping off to do merlin knows what.”

but you weren’t reassured. not when the castle was in lockdown. it when dementors were around. not when mattheo was nowhere to be seen, and the last thing he heard from you was something you didn’t mean.

“i didn’t mean it,” you whispered with regret. pansy rubbed your back to comfort you but it didn’t stop the tears from welling up in your eyes as you reached the great hall. the place was crowded with panicked students and teachers, but you still felt terribly alone in your world of fear.

“i shouldn’t have said it,” you choked out, wiping your eyes and ignoring the people running around and bumping into you. “i shouldn’t have-“

before you could finish, a heavy sound echoed through the hall. the giant wooden doors swung open with a gust of cold air, and every head turned toward the entrance.

mattheo stood in the doorway, along with some others students you didn’t even glance at. his curly hair was damp with the rain, and his robes slightly disheveled. he looked like he’d been through a storm, but he was there.

without thinking, you ran. you pushed through the crowd, not caring who you bumped into, your heart racing as you closed the distance between you. by the time you reached him, a tear had managed to roll down your cheek, but you didn’t care. you threw yourself into his arms, your hands fisting his robes as you breathed him in.

“mattheo,” you gasped, holding onto him like he might disappear. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean it, i swear i didn’t mean it.”

his arms came around you immediately, pulling you close, his chin resting on top of your head. “hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “it’s okay, love. i’m not mad.”

you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your slightly red eyes searching his face. “you’re not?”

he shook his head, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “no. i just… needed some time. but i’m not mad. i promise.”

you bit your lip, trying to stop the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you again. “i thought—i thought something happened to you. i was so scared.”

mattheo’s gaze softened, and he wiped the tears away with his thumb. “i’m sorry i scared you. i shouldn’t have just left like that.”

you shook your head quickly, you knew your boyfriend’s habit of walking out during arguments was just to help manage his anger. it was something he’d started doing when he realised you were the only good thing in his life, and he didn’t want to take his negative feelings out on you.

“no, it’s my fault. i shouldn’t have said what i did.” he leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “it’s okay,” he whispered. “i’m here. i’m not walking away this time.”

for the first time that night, you felt the tightness in your chest ease. the panic, the fear, it all melted away in his arms, replaced by the steady, grounding warmth of his presence. “nice pajamas by the way,” he chuckled, and you rolled your eyes.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

tag list (comment if you wanna be added) @tateshifts @redeemingvillains @helendeath @jolly4holly @larmesdevanille @dexoq @shiftingwithmars @shiftingwithleah @fbvreadingblog @moonlightreader649 @bellatrix-lestrange5 @sp7-mr @sunkissedscribbles @chelawrites @myunperfektstorys @iris-qt @yikesitslush @clar2aa @deadsnakey @deadghosy @slut-for-fictional-men @romantasyreader28 @witchsrecs @mattiesgf

[uhuhmaries]

The Tension Between Us

Summary: You approach Harry Styles as a fan while in Tokyo on a girls trip just for a moment, but Harry doesn’t let it stay innocent. There’s something about the way he says your name, like he already knew it—he’s not done with you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹

Word Count: I honestly have no idea. +/- 2k???

Warnings: smut (18+), unprotected sex mention (condom removed mid), breeding kink, size kink, age gap tension, dirty talk, mild degradation, power imbalance, emotional cheating (reader has a situationship), public setting lead-up, alcohol mention (light), reader is a fan, emotionally confusing hookup.

⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹

He’s right there.

A few tables away, in a dim-lit Tokyo bar tucked inside a luxury hotel your group definitely wasn’t meant to find. But your friend spotted his bodyguard first, whispered his name like it was a spell, and now… here you are.

He’s got his curls pushed back, a silk shirt unbuttoned far enough to make you forget how to blink, and a drink in one hand that’s barely touched. He’s laughing at something a friend said, but it’s casual, like he’s used to people noticing. Like he knows you’re watching.

“Go say hi,” one of your friends dares, nudging you with her elbow.

“No way,” you say—but your feet are already moving.

You don’t plan to say much… Just “Hi,” maybe “Big fan,” maybe “Can I get a picture?” and then you’ll disappear back into the crowd and let your friends scream about how close you got. You tell yourself it’s harmless. You have someone back home anyway… whatever that means lately.

You’re halfway through your polite smile when he looks up.

And you freeze. Because Harry Styles doesn’t just glance… he sees. Eyes trailing down, then back up, like he’s tasting the air around you.

“Hi,” you say. Voice too soft.

He leans forward slightly, lips quirking. “Hi.”

“I—I didn’t wanna interrupt. Just wanted to say I love your music. Big fan.”

He smiles, slow and wicked. “You sure that’s all you wanted to say?”

Your throat tightens. He says it like you came for something else. Like he’s already undressing the idea of you in his head.

You laugh awkwardly. “I should get back to my friends—”

“Wait,” he says quickly. “What’s your name?”

You hesitate.

“…(Y/N).”

He repeats it. Testing it. Letting it roll off his tongue like it’s something sacred. “(Y/N)… That’s nice.”

“I really should—”

“You can leave,” he says, tilting his head. “But if you do, I’ll spend the rest of the night wondering what your voice sounds like when you’re not being polite.”

Your breath hitches. You hadn’t expected him to say something so direct—so honest. Especially not to you. A fan. A stranger in a city far from home.

“I really shouldn’t. I have… a relationship—well, situationship, back home.”

You offer a small, unsure smile. “Still, it’s surreal meeting you. Thank you for being so kind.”

His gaze softens. That crooked smile doesn’t fade.

“I respect that. And if I came off too strong, I apologize.” He shrugs. “You’re just… stunning. He’s lucky. Hopefully he knows it.”

He offers his hand. You take it, briefly, then you walk back toward your booth.

By the time you’re on your fourth drink, you’re staring into the glass and thinking about how unlucky your situationship really is. How he never really listens. How he rolls his eyes at your passions. Never once hyped you up, supported your ideas, or made you feel fully seen.

Harry did all of that with a single conversation.

You glance toward where he’s still sitting, now talking to someone else, but his gaze flicks toward you anyway. Brief. Charged.

You feel it in your chest.

And just like that…

You never make it back to your friends.

⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹

The hotel elevator ride is short but sinful. He stands behind you, close enough that your back almost touches his chest, and his voice slides against your ear like silk dipped in heat.

“Thought you were just a fan with a situationship, sweetheart,” he teases.

“I thought this is the benefit of being one, isn’t it? Your ego is probably so big right now,” you reply coyly. That earns you a tight grip on your waist by the one and only, Mr. Harry Styles.

“You’re cute. You’re lucky I’m feeling generous tonight.” He murmurs, lips grazing your neck as he inhales your perfume like it’s a drug he’s just discovered.

When the door opens, he doesn’t ask. Just leads you by walking in while his hand still sits on your waist while caressing it.

His hotel suite feels like it doesn’t belong on this planet.

Neither do his hands as he starts unbuttoning your dress from behind while kissing the curve of your neck, murmuring filth that makes your knees threaten to give out.

“You nervous?” he asks, palm skimming your thigh.

You nod slowly.

“You were pretty bold a minute ago,” he murmurs, voice low and amused as he walks you backward to the bed. He sits first, spreading his legs, then tugs you between them, guiding you down onto his thigh.

The pressure of him under you is already making your mind static. “Yes, Harry. I am nervous,” you admit, fingertips gliding up the back of his neck, playing with his necklace chain resting against his collarbones. “But also… I’ve dreamt about this for a long time.”

That earns you a low groan.

His hands settle on your hips, grounding you. “You’re trouble. You know that, right?” he mutters against your throat. “I hope you realize I’m gonna make you forget every name but mine.”

And he does.

You’re naked and under him in minutes.

Your legs are already trembling and he hasn’t even given you his cock yet. His mouth traces a path down your chest, your stomach, lower… slow, unhurried. Fingers slide into your panties, then inside you, and he groans at how wet you already are.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs, looking up from between your thighs. “You get this needy just from a few kisses? Don’t know how that boy back home’s been surviving.”

Your hips twitch. Your breath stutters. You’re not sure what to say. You don’t want to say his name. You don’t want to think about anything but Harry’s mouth.

Your legs fall open wider for him instinctively, but Harry isn’t satisfied until he’s got them hooked over his shoulders—mouth locked on your clit like he owns it. His tongue works you over with slow, punishing precision, lips wrapped around you as if he’s starved for it.

You barely register the moment he pulls away, breathless and glistening with you, only to strip his shirt off in one swift motion, then his pants, slow like he wants you to watch. You do. You can’t look away. Your eyes trail across every tattoo inked into his skin, each one telling its own story, each one only making the ache between your legs worse.

He catches your stare and smirks.

“Like what you see?”

You only manage a breathy nod, already reaching for him.

“I want the whole city to hear you,” he growls, sliding a finger in deeper. “Let them know who’s making you feel this good.”

Your moan breaks the silence like glass.

He talks you through it.

“You’re so small,” he mutters, tearing off a condom and sliding it on his cock, then quickly lining himself up after you’ve begged for it.

“Gonna take me so well, though. You’re made for this.” You whimper when he presses in slowly—stretching you, filling you with an ache that borders on unbearable. He hushes you through it, mouth at your ear, hands guiding your thighs higher.

“That’s it, baby,” he coos. “There you go. Good fucking girl. So tight. So fuckin’ tight for me.” The stretch makes your vision blur. He’s thick, bigger than anyone you’ve had before. And of course, he knows it. Using it so well.

You wrap your legs around him instinctively and he pauses, breath sharp against your cheek. You try to stay quiet. Civilized. But neither of you were built for restraint.

Not when he starts thrusting slow and deep. Not when he kisses your throat and moans into your skin, “This pussy’s too good. Gonna ruin me.”

And especially not when he groans:

“Fuck, I could fill you up so deep. Get you so full of me and I will be cleaning you up afterwards.”

You moan—loud and desperate as your body clenches around him involuntarily, and Harry groans through gritted teeth. He stills, then pulls out just enough to slide the condom off with shaking hands, tossing it aside like it’s the last thing on his mind.

“Harry—” you breathe out, voice barely a whisper, heart pounding against your ribs so hard it hurts. You’re not sure if it’s adrenaline, fear, or the heat of finally having him like this.

“I know,” he murmurs, forehead pressed to yours. “It’s not right. I know.”

But his voice drops lower, filthier. “Still… fuck, if you could see how pretty you’d look dripping with me.”

Your lips part, but nothing comes out.

And then he’s pushing in—slow, deliberate. Watching the way he disappears inside you like he wants to burn the image into his brain. His fingers tighten on your waist, eyes flickering between your face and the stretch.

You’re too full. Too overwhelmed. But you don’t dare stop him.

Not now.

Not when every second of it feels like sin you never want to be forgiven for.

Your walls flutter around him like your body’s answering back.

It’s almost too much.

He presses your thighs up, holding you open like you’re something fragile and filthy at once. His thrusts go deeper. Rougher. Your cries spill out freely now.

“Taking it so well, baby,” he pants. “Such a good girl. Letting me stretch this sweet cunt like it’s mine.”

You’re already unraveling when he says, “You feel that? That’s how deep I am. Fuck. I should stop before I make a mess inside you.”

“… Come inside me, Styles,” you gasp out, wrecked and breathless, your body trembling as you try to hold off your release, even while he pounds into you harder, deeper each thrust making you cry out louder than the last.

“Fuck, (Y/N)!” he snarls, head thrown back. “You can’t just say shit like that—”

But it’s too late. The second those words leave your lips, he loses it.

You both do.

You break first—legs shaking, walls fluttering around him as your orgasm hits like a wave crashing through you. He follows a split second later with a broken groan, hips slamming into yours one last time as he spills inside you, deep and heavy and unrelenting.

Even through the haze, you feel him twitch, feel every thick pulse of it.

And neither of you can bring yourselves to move.

Not yet.

Not when it feels this good to fall apart together.

⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹

You’re both quiet after. Tangled in the sheets, soaked in sweat and something too real.

His hand lazily strokes your hip as you stare at the ceiling.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

You turn your head, meeting his eyes. “What now? Like… how do I do this?”

He exhales a laugh—low, breathless, bittersweet.

“Don’t worry, love. We’ll figure it out.”

But his thumb keeps drawing circles into your skin like he already knows it’s not over.

Not by a long shot.

⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹

📝 Author’s Note:

……. This got way too long and wild than what I had in mind. This was supposed to be a one-night fan fantasy. a tokyo slip-up but I definitely can see a few more chapters of this or just leave it as is. Let me know if you want part two. I kinda already know what harry does the morning after 😵‍💫💌

Ps. This is actually my first time writing again after more or less 8 years!!!! Wild. (I’m jobless now so I got more time).

Second Part: https://www.tumblr.com/uhuhmaries/785944844429361152/if-it-lingers-why-leave

[moonyeyedstar]

NSFW Audios

*The audios are made with AI but the writing is mine loves!* *Some aren't fics posted here and just on Patreon- Ill mark them with ** *  Currently working on voices for Lucius and Sirius and maybe James too if I can! 18+  Let me know any fics you'd like to have the audio for! 

Patreon Link

Inferior- Stepdad Snape x reader

**Sucking off Snape blurb audio

**Forbidden- Remus x Teacher Assistant Reader

**Desire-Severus Snape x reader

**Remus fingers you and sucks your clit

Ribbon-Severus Snape x reader

**Severus fingers you and sucks on your clit

Hide (free preview) - Professor Lupin xreader

Hide- full audio prof lupin x reader

**Reward- Remus's version

**Reward- Snape's version

**Remus talking you through it

**Being Praised by Snape

Caught: Professor Lupin x Professor Snape x reader

Polished- Severus Snape x reader pt 1 and pt 2

Vice- Professor Lupin x reader

Kinktober day 10 Snape audio (whips, gloves, camera)

Awakening- remus lupin x virgin!reader

Remus Lupin comforts you after a bad day(NOT NSFW- COMFORT FLUFF)

Mine-Remus Lupin Breeding Kink

*I try to make as many of them as I can completely free but sometimes Patreon marks them as too explicit and says they have to be for paid members only- I am going to see if I can make an even cheaper tear because I don't want my work to be put up behind a super expensive paywall!* *Ill do my best to keep this updated!*

[thalthanmadanus]

Change

[pedroscurls]

Hii love. Can you please do something about Harry or Joel. He has some type of insecurity and it gets worse one night when you are out at an activity or party maybe. You looked beautiful and lots of guys kept talking to you and trying to make a move.

So after you finally realize what is wrong with Harry/Joel, you make sure he feels loved and understands you only have eyes for him.

Something like that, thank you!

no one else comes close (one-shot)

pairing: harry castillo x fem!reader content warning(s): spoilers, so please beware!!!, harry POV, harry's super insecure, established relationship, no physical descriptions of reader (we're all beautiful here!!!), no use of y/n. word count: 1.9k a/n: shout out to you, anon for this incredibly sweet request! i don't usually take requests, but i loved this idea so much and i've been obsessed with harry that i couldn't not write it. hope you enjoy this and ty for sending this in <3 (btw this isn't proofread lol, i wrote this in like 2 hrs bc it's just such a good idea! so if there are errors, sorry in advanced!)

Harry was never a jealous man—at least not until he was in a relationship with you. It was ridiculous really because you had never given him the reason to feel this way. Whenever you both went out, he had gotten used to the lingering glances that would come your way. You were always so polite, so kind to everyone you met. 

But tonight, he wasn’t sure why the scars on his legs were making him insecure. It was one of the first things he told you—he didn’t want any secrets between either of you. You had looked at him with such a sad look on your face that Harry wasn’t sure if you were pitying him or embarrassed for him. It had taken him by surprise when you told him that you were sorry he felt that way, that he felt so strongly about increasing his height that he had to endure all that pain. 

Harry knew he loved you at that moment. You had always been different from the women he dated, but you never did care about his money or any of the materialistic things he had to offer you. You had been hurt in the past and the only thing you asked of him was to be completely and truthfully honest with you—about anything, about everything. 

Even now, as the men at the bar are casting glances in your direction, Harry couldn’t help but curl his hands into fists against the counter of the bar. It shouldn’t bother him, especially since there’s a pretty decent-sized engagement ring sitting on your finger. He tried to smile at what you and his brother were saying, but he couldn’t help but continue to look around the room. 

He had to wonder if he hadn’t been the height he was at now, would you even be interested in him? Would you have even gone on a first date with him? Said yes to marry him? Harry knew the answer to all of the questions that nagged at him—yes. 

Yes—you would still have been interested in him, would still have gone on that first date with him, and you certainly would have said yes to marry him. Harry knew that you didn’t care about looks, about height—you loved him for him. The good. The bad. The ugly. You accepted him entirely, even embraced parts of him that he tried so hard to push aside because it just never worked in the past. With you, Harry felt like himself. 

Harry heard you whisper into his ear that you were going on the dance floor with Charlotte—his sister-in-law. He didn’t have time to object, to instead tell you that he wanted to go home. You were already halfway to the dance floor, body swaying expertly to the beat of the music. He watched you vigilantly, keeping a careful eye on you. Even from afar, you made sure to glance in his direction and smile at him—a smile so big that it met your eyes and Harry, for a brief moment, forgot the lingering insecurity and jealousy that he felt all night. 

Harry winked at you and then decided to look away. You were going home with him, so he had no reason to be jealous. His brother clasped him on his shoulder and they ordered another round of drinks, casually talking about work. It hadn’t been five minutes before Harry felt the urge to look at you again. He looked over his shoulder casually, caught a glimpse of your smile before he turned back around. Slowly, he felt more comfortable—the jealousy and insecurity now an afterthought. 

Leg lengthening surgery—as painful as it was—had been the best decision of his life. Harry felt more respected, more valuable. No one else needed to know that he had gone through great lengths just to add six inches to his height. It bothered him though, how other men who were naturally six feet and above would just take it for granted. He tried not to think so materialistically, especially since you had told him that you never had an issue with dating someone under six feet, but there were moments where he couldn’t help it. He had grown up around that kind of thinking—the way you presented yourself mattered. 

“Oh shit,” he heard his brother whisper under his breath, pulling Harry out of his thoughts. 

Harry’s brows furrowed in confusion until he followed his brother’s gaze to the dance floor. A man was trying to dance with you and there was a look of discomfort in your features that he noticed immediately. Through your discomfort, Harry noticed how you had gently taken a step back from the other man—to distance your body with his. He wasn’t sure what you were telling him, but from the look of disappointment on the other man’s face, Harry had an idea.

“She can handle herself,” Harry replied to his brother, though he hoped that saying it out loud would convince himself that he didn’t need to intervene. 

Harry met your eyes and he gave you a single nod, which you returned instantly. You were ready to go home and Harry was more than willing to leave. As you were walking back to the bar though, several men tried to come up to you and strike a conversation. You forced a smile and politely declined, oblivious to their lingering eyes on your body. Harry’s jaw tightened and he downed his drink in one gulp before excusing himself to meet you halfway. 

“Yeah, think it’s time to go,” he heard his brother say from behind him. 

Harry didn’t bother to respond. His main focus was to get to you. Once at an arm’s distance, Harry reached out for you and took your hand, immediately pulling you into his chest. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, forehead leaning down to rest against your own. To you, Harry was being sweet, but to him—he was telling every man in this bar that you were off-limits. 

“Can we go home?” he asked quietly, hand coming up to rest on your cheek. 

“Yeah, let’s go home.” 

Back at Harry’s penthouse, he had already changed into a black t-shirt and sleep pants. He was in the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water as his mind drifted again. Tonight had given him a glimpse of a life that he didn’t want—a life without you. You could have been with any other guy in that bar, could have said yes to someone else other than him and again, he wondered if you would have even said yes if he was at his actual height of 5’6. 

Harry didn’t hear you come into the kitchen, but he felt your soft touch on his shoulder. He cleared his throat quietly and turned around to face you—his insecurity written all over his face as his deep brown eyes softened at the sight of you. 

“Hey,” you whispered, hands coming up to rest on his chest. “You okay?” 

Harry nodded, kissed your cheek, and then pulled away. “Just tired. Ready for bed?” 

You furrowed a brow. Harry knew better than to lie to you. “Yeah, I am,” you answered. “But something’s wrong. I can tell.” 

Harry shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong, baby,” he lied once more. 

You sighed and moved to sit on one of the stools at the counter, arms crossed over your chest. Harry bit the inside of his cheek nervously and rested his forearms against the counter as he leaned against it, staring into your eyes. 

“If I wasn’t six feet tall, would you still be with me? Would you have even said yes when I asked you out on a date?” Harry blurted out.

“What?”

“If you met me and noticed that I was actually 5’6, would that have made a difference? Would we even be here?” He repeated.

You reached out for his hand and leaned forward to press your lips against the back of it. You never looked away, just held his gaze. “Yes, we would be right here where we’re meant to be even if you were 5’6,” you answered. “Your height isn’t the reason why I said yes. You know this.”

“I know… I just—” Harry sighed. “A lot of men like to stare at you. No matter where we are—bar, restaurant, even at a fucking family party. And tonight, it just got to me. All these men were just gawking at you,” he finally looked away—embarrassed that he was even feeling this way. “And then some even had the audacity to ask you to dance or even for your number despite the engagement ring you’re wearing.”

“Harry,” you whispered, climbing off the stool to stand next to him. You gently released his hand, only to have him turn his body to face you. You reached up and cupped his cheek—his eyes filled with so much sadness. “I chose you because you make me laugh, make me smile… We can talk literally about anything and nothing at the same time. My favorite place to be is in your arms. You’re my best friend, six feet or not. Rich or poor. You’re the only one I have eyes for,” you continued. “I chose you before. I’m choosing you now. And I will continue to choose you for the rest of my life.”

Harry’s eyes softened instantly, glistening with tears that threatened to spill over. He moved a hand to your hip, gripping it tightly under his grasp as he pulled you flush against him. “I’m just in my head and—”

“Stop,” you interrupted. “You have every right to feel the way that you do. Your feelings are valid, baby. But I’m here to tell you that if you need a reminder, I’m more than happy to tell you just how much I love you—how you’re the only man for me. No one else comes close, Harry.” 

Harry nodded and moved his other hand to your hip before wrapping both arms tightly around you to pull you into a tight embrace. His face buried against the crook of your neck as he let out a heavy sigh when your hands moved to rub his back soothingly. He hadn’t ever felt a kind of love like this before. 

“I love you,” he whispered. 

“I love you too,” you answered instantly, pressing a soft kiss against his temple. “Now, let’s go to bed so that we can cuddle.” 

Harry smiled and pulled back to look down at you. “Yes, ma’am.” He lifted you into his arms and carried you back to the bedroom. Once he set you on the bed, he pulled off his sleep pants and set it aside before climbing onto the bed and underneath the sheets. Harry immediately spooned you from behind, his arm draping over your midsection as he held you close to him. 

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” you whispered. 

Harry nodded against you, face buried against you. “I know, baby. I just didn’t want to bother you with all of the things that were going on in my head.”

“Hmm,” you mumbled, moving a hand over his and lacing your fingers together. “You’d never bother me, Harry. Besides, if the roles were reversed, I know you’d tell me the same thing.”

He chuckled and kissed the side of your neck. “Okay, fair point.” 

You smiled proudly and leaned back against him. Harry tightened his grip around you and shut his eyes. “Good night, Harry.” 

“Good night, baby,” he whispered. Harry knew that his insecurities wouldn’t magically go away, but he felt safe and heard with you by his side. He brushed his thumb across your engagement ring and he let out a contented sigh. “Thank you for choosing me,” he said quietly. 

[zlarirosa]

[ old art ] he was rapidly becoming obsessed with draco malfoy...

[tobeafangirl]

sunday morning

Words: 1,565 Rating: PG-13 (language, nothing but fluff here. Fluffy lovey Harry) Type: One Shot (Harry Styles x Reader)

❀ Requests

Harry was running around frantically in the kitchen. It had to be near nine in the morning and she was still asleep, but he knew it wouldn’t be for long. She was an early bird, but he had turned off her alarm this morning. It was Sunday anyway, and she had been working so hard since her new promotion.

Being with Y/N was indescribable. She was the sun that came out on rainy days. The moon that shined bright at night. She was Harry’s world. Unfortunately, work had sort of taken over both their lives recently. 

Harry's new album was…well…he didn’t want to talk about it. This was his fourth album, he wanted it to be perfect. Maybe a bit too perfect. Harry didn’t like to put things out that he didn’t feel one hundred percent about. There was even a song that had around 30 mixes by now and he felt like the album was slipping more and more away each day.

She was the same with her work. As Harry said, Y/N just got a promotion but with a promotion comes new tasks and more responsibility, and although Harry and her both knew that would be the case. This just made it harder for them to spend time together. That's why this was so important to Harry. They finally had a few days they were able to spend together, thanks to a three day weekend for Y/N and a stern Harry taking those days off just to do this.

What was this? This was Harry trying to make pancakes, but not just any pancakes. Y/N has always wanted to try those really fluffy ones that look absolutely ridiculous and a bit fake but Harry was sure trying his damn hardest to bring her wish to life. Even if it meant getting batter on her favorite apron. “Shit!” Harry cursed as he tried to wash the batter off but it just kind of adhered. He groaned. Then, his eyes went wide as he turned around and there was smoke coming from the pan. “Not again!” He exclaimed. A sighed coming from him as he discarded his fifth batch of pancakes. Maybe it was the batter? Too much baking soda? Wait did it say baking or powder? 

God, he was fucked.

“Smells….good?” Y/N’s voice could be heard from the stairs and Harry turned around quickly. A smile on his face that did not mimic the chaos behind him. “You’re up!” He sort of shouted, as if that would be a distraction for her. She crossed her arms and tilted her head. Okay, she’s not impressed, Harry thought but then he watched as a smile etched across her face. “Want some help?” She asked and he grinned, “Get your cute little arse over here.” Harry murmured, and Y/N rolled her eyes at him.

“What would you do without me, H?” She stepped further into the kitchen, her smile turning unamused as she walked up to him, her hand grasping the apron where the batter was stuck. Her eyes flickered to his and Harry looked at her apologetically. “I’ll buy you a hundred more, promise.” He said hopefully.

Y/N let out a sigh, "Hundred and two.” She said, a sly smile coming onto her face. Harry learned down to kiss the smile away, a short brief kiss between them. “Deal.” Harry said with a soft chuckle and Y/N gave him a light smack on the chest. Harry rubbed it as if it even hurt, it didn’t.  “Okay, move over Casanova. What were you even making?” She asked as she looked around at the mess.

Batter was everywhere, flour and it looked like Harry even spilt the good vanilla. There were so many bowls out, stacking in the sink, stove still slightly smoking from being over used at this point. “Oh, babe.” She said softly and she turned to see Harry looking like he was a teenager again. “I know – You know those japanese pancakes you always have wanted to try? The fluffy ones? Yeah, well. Ta da?” 

“You know you can order those from down the street, right?” No, Harry didn’t know that but now he did. “Hey! I was trying to be sweet.” Harry wined slightly, he moved until he was behind her. His arms wrapping around her middle and his chin laying on her shoulder. “You are sweet.” She commented and he nodded. “Yeah, I am.” That earned him another smack to the arm.

His lips creeped up the side of her neck as she tried to salvage the utter monstrosity he had made. “I’m an idiot, I should’ve got you down here sooner.” Harry muttered into her skin as his arms squeezed her a bit tighter. 

Y/N giggled, drawing her shoulder and ear together, “That tickles!” She nearly squealed and that just encouraged Harry to wiggle his fingers across her sides, her arms coming down flat to try and stop them. “Harry!” Y/N yelled, trying to sound angry but her laughter broke through it all. 

“You love me.” Harry said as he ceased his torments, his head going back comfortably in the crook of her neck. “I do.” She says and he presses a small Harry. “I love it when you say those words.” Harry kissed the top of her head as he ruffled her hair. She pushed him away playfully and laughed. “Get away! I have to finish this mess you started.” She pointed back at him wildly, dramatically. 

He was in love. No, really. This was it for him. 

Harry once felt like he would never find love. Well, not true love anyway. Even when he thought he had poured his heart out, there was always something. A hiccup, a miscommunication, misleading information…Harry could write a novel. Not with her though, because she understood. 

Y/N understood that Harry’s music wasn’t only for himself. That it was just as important as what she did in her work. They shared a respect for each other and trusted each other. Harry doesn’t really know how he got so lucky, but he thanks the universe or whatever magic brought Y/N to him. To find someone you see your entire future with, well, it makes the world make a bit more sense. 

Harry tiptoed into the living room, finding a vinyl to listen to and settling with ‘Rumours’ by Fleetwood Mac. A favorite, naturally. Harry danced back into the kitchen, his voice carrying along with Stevie’s as he danced with his back to hers for a moment. 

Y/N laughed at Harry’s antics. He was such a weirdo. It seemed to make her adore him more and more each day. “Would you stop! I’m a professional, you know.” She scolded him playfully, holding up her whisk at him as she stuck her tongue out. 

That was another thing. She made him feel a balance of things. They could do this, goof off and banter with each other like they weren’t adults but then they could be serious, like making big decisions together. This being the last one, her moving in. 

It was a two month conversation considering there would obviously be times he would have to be on tour or in other countries and as much as he would love to take her everywhere with him, her career was important to her. That’s something he loved about her. 

He knew he could give her the world if she wanted, but Y/N was one of the most hard working people Harry knew, so it was safe to say he knew she wouldn’t give it up when they made things official. 

Now, he gets to wake up to her, go to sleep next to her. And although it doesn’t happen every night. It happens. That’s what mattered. He would take chaste kisses goodbye and falling asleep three minutes into a movie just to spend that extra time with her. 

“A man writes songs about dancing in kitchens, a lady refuses to give him what he wants.” Harry jokingly complained. A huff coming from him that made her laugh. “Drama Queen.” She said as she rolled her eyes. Harry pinched her side. She giggled. Did he mention he was in love with her? 

Just then, she put the whisk back in the bowl and started to untie her apron off Harry’s body. “Not getting batter on me.” She mumbled and Harry smiled as she laid the apron on the counter. 

She then opened her arms and Harry wrapped his arms around her waist as he lifted her in a spin. She laughed. Melodic and beautiful and Harry had claimed it as one of his favorite sounds in the entire word. He sat her back down as they slowly swayed to ‘Dreams’. Harry had a smile on his face that made his dimples shine and Y/N was looking at him as if he made the world himself. 

They stayed like that for a while, swaying and looking into each other's eyes. The quiet speaking loud as their eyes had a conversation on their own. It seemed they both knew what the outcome of this relationship would be. 

Forever. 

Harry confirmed, his eyes heavy with a love that penetrated her to the core as he whispered, “I can’t wait to spend every Sunday morning with you.”

[raindragon-20]

surreal • word count: 266

@wolfstarmicrofic

It starts with James noticing the braids. Tiny, uneven plaits tucked behind Sirius’ ears or at the nape of his neck. Sloppy at first, rushed little things, barely holding.

But over time, they become neater. Tighter. More delicate. Like someone’s taking their time. Like someone cares. Small, intricate braids that seem to appear overnight, threaded through Sirius' thick dark hair like quiet secrets.

Then Lily notices. Then Marlene. And soon, everyone’s whispering about Sirius Black’s mysterious new girlfriend. Surely he’s not doing them himself?

Whenever someone asks, Sirius just shrugs, dreamy-eyed, and says, “Oh, just someone I fancy.”

James frowns.

Because if Sirius is in love with someone, that means Moony... gentle, quiet, hopelessly in love Moony... might be heartbroken. James has long suspected they’re in love with each other, just too stubborn to admit it.

So he worries. Until one evening, during exam week, he walks into the dorm...and stops.

Sirius is curled up in Remus’ lap on the window seat, bathed in gold from the setting sun. His hair is swept to one shoulder, a book open in his hands as he lazily quizzes Remus.

Remus hums answers as he gently braids a thin strand near the base of Sirius’ neck. He finishes with a gentle kiss just above it. Like it’s something he’s done a hundred times before. They both looked disgustingly happy.

It’s surreal. Like walking into a dream he didn’t realize he’d been hoping to see. His best friends happy.

They don’t even notice him. James just smiles, heart light.

Finally. He thinks. He closes the door without a word.

[tommarvoloriddlesdiary]

It became an odd habit.

“Will you accompany me, Harry?”

Harry was well past the point of complaining. Whenever Riddle appeared out of nowhere and knocked on his door, there was little he could say or do to get him to leave.

“Oh, do I have a choice this time?”

He didn’t laugh, per se, but the slight tilt of Riddle’s head and the suspicious gleam in his eyes were as loud as one. He held out his hand, palm up, in answer.

Harry refused the offer with a shake of his head and sighed, “Lead the way, I guess.”

They never apparated to the same place twice. Their surroundings were always unfamiliar and remote and never inspired much confidence in the possibility of Harry returning home safely. But he always did. Riddle made sure of that.

Sometimes Harry wondered if this was his weird way of letting off steam, as though their time together somehow relaxed and revitalised him. It was an insane thought, but the fact remained that Riddle would show up tense and barely controlled and one careless word away from a fight, and he would leave loose-limbed and satisfied. Usually at the expense of Harry. 

This time was no different. Riddle’s fist was white-knuckle tight, and the location was a drab and dreary abandoned manor of some kind. Walls of crumbling stone and floorboards rotted nearly through, making each step taken a delicate dance. The dust in the air was enough to make Harry cough once or twice; the building had clearly been neglected for a long while.

“What is it today,” Harry asked. “Another potion? More rune work? If you try to teach me a dead language again, I will kick you in the shin and finally make good on my threats of moving to a different country.”

Riddle glanced back over his shoulder and raised a single brow. “Do you truly think distance will stop me?” He asked.

No. Harry didn’t even think being universes apart would stop Riddle.

Still, he scoffed and said, “Creep.”

Riddle simply smiled. “I will not subject myself to that again. You are surprisingly ungrateful for having the honour to learn from a being as powerful as I.”

Harry wanted to roll his eyes, “Yeah. So sorry for not appreciating everything you do for me. Oh, wait—I never asked.”

Riddle hummed, not agreeingly. Never agreeingly. “We will be attempting a discipline you’ve shown great promise in but one we’ve never indulged upon.” 

For the life of him, Harry couldn’t think of a single thing in which he showed great promise. He also couldn’t think of a time when Riddle didn’t indulge whenever he damn well pleased. “As vague as ever today,” Harry prodded. “Don’t hold back; share with the class.”

Riddle stopped so suddenly that Harry almost ran straight into him. With a careless wave of his hand, the double doors to their left opened.

And inside was a pristine duelling arena. 

Harry’s mouth parted, but he couldn’t find the words. This was damn impressive. 

The stone walls were just as decrepit here as they were throughout the manor, but their ruin spoke of wide-cast spellfire and magic dark enough to leave its mark. Of a frazzled mind with enough wherewithal to make it to the duelling room but not enough to cast a protective barrier. It had ample light from shattered windows, but not a single shard of glass could be found across the decorative tiled floor, its pattern still polished to a dull shine.

They walked in - or, rather, Riddle walked in, and Harry followed behind him, content in his rapture. He wouldn’t truly ever get used to wizarding homes and their larger-than-life rooms. Harry would have been none the wiser passing by those double doors; they didn’t look nearly grand enough to hide such a gorgeous arena. But that was magic, he supposed.

It was clear they’d stopped. Harry wasn’t sure how long it had been with as taken as he was by the stage next, admiring its long dark floorboards that came together in a sort of v pattern that repeated. Harry was so hung up on trying to remember the name of it (Houndstooth? Plaid? No, it was something with a C-) that he hadn’t realised just how close Riddle had gotten.

He felt a chill travel up his throat before he processed the movement. Riddle’s hand was just beneath his chin, ice-cold fingers a hair’s breadth away from Harry’s skin. With a muted gasp, he froze and locked eyes with him, which wasn’t very hard to do. Riddle’s were already fixated on him. 

Their silence was thick enough to suffocate. 

Riddle curled his fingers into his palm slowly and brought his hand to hover just before the round of Harry’s face. He could sense that creeping cold reaching out again with the phantom feeling of Riddle’s knuckles pulling a slow line down his cheek, stopping at the corner of his lips. Riddle moved back then and gestured at them, “Close your mouth, or you’ll catch flies, Harry.”

His teeth made an audible click, the sound making Harry wince when it echoed in the hollow space. To save himself from further embarrassment, he grimaced and blessed Riddle with one of his rarely used meaner smiles, “Come that close to me again, and I’ll bite that finger off.”

Riddle pulled back even slower and tilted his head to the side. He raked his gaze over Harry’s face, down his body, and on his pass back up, he shrugged and said, “Now, now. That’s no way to handle your disputes, is it?”

Like a static shock, Harry finally realised what was happening. 

All that anger brewing like a potion in his gut dissipated. His shoulders fell - he wasn’t sure when they’d hiked so far up in the first place - and he huffed out a laugh. “I know what you’re doing,” Harry said.

Riddle looked at him with all the innocence of a Nundu. “Oh? Am I doing something, Harry?” He asked.

Harry breathed through the kindling trying to catch a new spark. “You know what you’re doing,” he started backing away. Riddle’s eyes followed him keenly as his steps took him up the middle of the duelling stage and back down to the other side. He wasn’t running away, just trying to get some distance. “You always know what you’re doing. And I am not falling for it—you won’t manipulate me into this.”

“Surely I’ve no understanding of what you’re implying.” Riddle’s polished shoes tap-tap-tapped their way right after Harry, but he stopped on the stage. He looked down on him from above. “But if I did,” Riddle continued, “I’d tell you you’re only prolonging the inevitable.”

Harry shook his head, this man… “You can’t be serious?”

Riddle folded his hands behind his back. His smile was sharp. “When have I ever been anything but?” He asked, and Harry scoffed. 

He wavered for a moment, maybe two, and finally climbed back up the steps to the duelling stage. Riddle, the asshole, looked far too pleased. He turned to face Harry, and they were so close that he only had to look down ever so slightly.

They hadn’t been this close in a long, long time. It was just Harry’s luck that it was happening twice in one day. Fourth Year came to mind as the last time Harry was forced into this proximity. Forced because, unlike now, he hadn’t ever chosen to be in Riddle’s space. Or company. Or attention. 

They stood in silence. Riddle’s grin grew teeth with each passing second. Harry knew what he wanted, but he hoped he wouldn’t have to instigate it—invite it any more than he already was. 

Then, Harry heard an echo of words, a lost encounter in the back of his memories. It pulled a smile on his lips, smaller than Riddle’s but no less there. “A wizard’s duel, then?” Harry teased. “Wands only — no contact?”

At the sight of Harry’s smile and the sound of his teasing, Riddle’s face fell flat. His eyes narrowed. “Your focus should be here, Harry.” He paused and said, “We wouldn’t want you to get hurt because of some minor distraction. Would we?”

Harry smiled a little wider, “Jealous? How very like you.”

Riddle sneered, “Do not speak of me as though I am predictable.”

Now Harry gave in to the temptation to roll his eyes. They, unfortunately, knew each other very well. Riddle was the most predictable person Harry had ever met, and he knew it—if only because Harry was the most predictable person he had ever met. 

“Fine,” Harry conceded. “Ten paces, right?” He turned to begin his count, but Riddle stopped him by the scruff of his shirt. 

Non too gently, he yanked Harry back. Cold breath puffed against his ear in semblance of a laugh. “And we bow, Harry,” Riddle murmured, causing a wave of shivers down Harry’s spine. 

Harry glared over his shoulder and spat, “Make me.”

[handledwithgloves]

‘an ode to ron weasley’ by hermione jean granger 🩷

[slytherin-princess-x]

Last day of slytherinmas 😭

My girl

Theodore nott x cheerleader!reader

Summary: you keep your relationship hidden but when a charming gryffindor captain tries to win you over, it’s not just a game of quidditch anymore it’s a game for you

A/n: it’s his pov guys and thank you for another great idea @smut-anarchy I wanna kiss your beautiful brain 💋

The sun hung high in the autumn sky, casting a warm golden hue over the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts. The excitement of the crowd buzzed in my ears, a cacophony of cheers and shouts that rose and fell like the wind. I stood on the sidelines, my heart pounding not from the thrill of the game but from a simmering anger that threatened to boil over.

Gryffindor was playing Slytherin today, and while the usual rivalry had me on edge, it wasn’t the opposing team that had me fuming. No, it was their captain, Oliver Wood. With his tousled hair and those infuriatingly charming winks he kept sending toward the Slytherin cheerleaders, my focus shifted solely to him, and more specifically, to Y/N.

Y/N was mesmerizing, even in her cheer uniform. Her laughter rang out above the rest, and every time Wood shot her a flirty wink, a knot tightened in my stomach. I couldn’t stand it. She was my girl, and I had no intention of letting anyone else think otherwise.

As I watched Wood fly around the pitch, I could feel the rage bubbling within me. He was supposed to be focused on the game, yet he was wasting precious moments trying to win Y/N’s affection rather than leading his team. I clenched my fists, my knuckles white as I considered what I would do to show him that she wasn’t interested in his charming little antics.

When Slytherin scored their first goal, I caught Y/N’s eye. She smiled brightly, her eyes sparkling with delight, but I could see the confusion lurking beneath the surface. Did she even realize how much Wood was flirting with her? I hoped not. The last thing I wanted was for her to reciprocate. My mind raced with thoughts of how to assert my claim, how to remind everyone that she was mine.

As the match continued, it became apparent that I needed to focus. I was a Beater, and my job was to protect my teammates, to ensure that we won. But my attention kept being drawn to the Gryffindor captain. The way he smiled at Y/N and winked, as if it were a game in itself.

“Focus, Nott,” Blaise shouted to me, making me force my gaze back to the pitch. I could hear the cheers from the stands, feel the adrenaline surging in the air, but it was all clouded by my growing jealousy.

The game wore on, and it seemed that Oliver was determined to keep his flirtation going. I could see him glance at Y/N every chance he got, completely ignoring the game’s flow. It only fueled my determination. I was ready to send him a message, to make him realize that he was crossing a line.

With every swing of my bat, I aimed to protect my teammates while keeping an eye on Wood. I wasn’t above playing dirty if it meant defending my territory.

“Keep your eyes on the ball, Theo!” My friend Draco’s voice broke through my haze of anger. I barely registered him; I was locked on Oliver.

Then it happened. A bludger was coming straight for Wood as he flew high above the pitch. Instinct kicked in; I swung my bat, sending the ball hurtling toward him with a calculated force. The impact was satisfying as he narrowly dodged it, but I could see the annoyance flash in his eyes. Good. Let him know I’m not here to play nice.

The match progressed, and with each passing moment, I felt the tide of the game turning in our favor. My teammates rallied, fueled by the promise of victory and the desire to defend our honor. Y/N cheered us on from the sidelines, her voice ringing clear and bright.

Finally, as the match neared its end, Slytherin secured a decisive lead. The moment came when I saw Oliver making yet another desperate attempt to impress Y/N with a flashy move. I could feel my anger boiling over, and I took one last swing of my bat, sending a bludger careening directly at him.

He dodged, but the distraction was enough. Our Seeker, Millicent, dove toward the Golden Snitch, her determination matched only by my own. She caught it, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

Slytherin had won.

As I landed on the pitch, adrenaline coursing through me, I scanned the crowd for Y/N. She was beaming, her smile lighting up my world, and in that moment, I knew I had to claim her in front of everyone. I had to show Wood and the rest of the school that she belonged to me.

I strode toward her, my heart pounding in my chest. When I reached her, the noise of the crowd faded, and it was just the two of us. Without hesitation, I pulled her into my arms and kissed her fiercely. It was a declaration, a promise, a way to stake my claim.

The crowd erupted into a mix of cheers and gasps, but I didn’t care. I could feel Y/N’s surprise melt into delight as she kissed me back, her hands tangled in my hair.

Oliver’s glare from the other side of the pitch was almost palpable, but I didn’t let it bother me. I had won the game, and more importantly, I had won her heart.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. I was Theodore Nott, the boy who defended what was his, and I had no intention of letting anyone—especially not Oliver Wood—get in my way.

Taglist: @yootvi @redeemingvillains @littlemadamred @smut-anarchy

[girllblogging777]

𝑊𝑂𝑅𝐷𝑆 𝑈𝑁𝑆𝑃𝑂𝐾𝐸𝑁

↳ theodore nott x fem!reader (fluff)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 0.8k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : in a moment of loneliness and feeling misunderstood, theo finds out you also speak italian

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

theodore nott didn’t enjoy crowds. he didn’t particularly enjoy loud gatherings, or the constant buzz of chatter that came with being around people all day. he preferred the quiet, a good book, an empty common room, a silent walk by the black lake. but somehow, he always ended up where people were, dragged along by his friends or because avoiding them would be too much effort.

tonight was no different. though the common room wasn’t packed, there were enough people to make it feel a little too alive. a few were studying and some others were caught up in conversation, it was too noisy for theo. his patience wore thin as he sat near the back, a book open in front of him, though he hadn’t read a single word.

across from him, you were sitting quietly with your own book. you weren’t much of a distraction, unlike the others, and that was part of why theo didn’t mind you being there. you didn’t force conversation, didn’t push for attention. you were just… there. it was calming, in a way.

but tonight the room felt too small and theo’s mood was slipping. the weight of things he didn’t say, things he didn’t know how to say, felt heavy. he let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair as he closed his book, his mind spinning.

"what’s bothering you?"

your voice was soft, not pushing, just curious. theo looked up, his gaze meeting yours. he hadn’t even realized you were watching him.

"nothing," he muttered, trying to keep the facade up, though the irritation in his voice gave him away. "just tired of… all this."

you raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "all this?"

he gestured vaguely at the room, at the people, the noise. "everything. it’s all pointless. no one really cares about anything important. they just talk to hear themselves."

there was a pause, and theo half-expected you to drop it, to go back to your book and leave him alone. but you didn’t.

"maybe they do," you said quietly, "but it’s hard to hear it sometimes."

he looked at you, a bit surprised. your words weren’t confrontational, but there was something in your tone that made him stop. "they don’t," he muttered, leaning back in his chair, feeling the frustration build again. "it’s all surface-level. no one actually understands."

there was a moment of silence, and then you said something that made him freeze. "io ti capisco." (i understand you.)

theo blinked, staring at you in disbelief. italian. you had spoken italian. he hadn’t expected that, not from you. not here.

"what—" he began, his voice quiet. "you speak italian?"

you gave a small nod, a soft proud smile playing on your lips. "yeah. my family’s italian. we spoke it at home growing up."

theo was silent for a moment, trying to process this new information. it felt strange, hearing those words from you—words that felt like they belonged in another world, a world far removed from the one he lived in at hogwarts.

"why didn’t you ever say anything?" he asked, his voice quieter now, less guarded.

you shrugged lightly, as if it were no big deal. "you never asked."

he couldn’t help but huff a small laugh at that, running a hand through his hair again. "yeah, i guess not."

there was something in the air now, something different between the two of you. it wasn’t just the fact that you spoke italian, it was the way you had said it, the way you looked at him now. like you really understood. and for the first time in a long time, theo felt like he didn’t have to explain himself.

"parli bene," (you speak well) he said after a moment, his voice soft as he switched to italian, testing the waters.

you answered with a small smile, in a light but sincere tone “anche tu” (so do you)

and that was it. the connection had been made, something unspoken but understood between you both. it was strange, how a few words in a shared language could shift everything. the tension in theo’s chest eased, the frustration slipping away as he realized that maybe, for once, someone actually got it. got him.

"i didn’t think anyone else here would understand," theo admitted, his voice almost a whisper. “i only ever spoke it with my mother,” he added hesitantly, staring down. “so, it’s been a long time.”

you looked at him, your expression soft, understanding. "you’re not as alone as you think, theo."

he swallowed, the weight of your words hitting him harder than he expected. he hadn’t realized how much he needed to hear that—needed to know that someone, anyone, saw him. really saw him.

"thanks," he added quietly, and for the first time in what felt like forever, it wasn’t laced with sarcasm or bitterness.

you smiled at him, that same gentle smile that made the world feel a little less heavy. "anytime."

and just like that, the noise of the common room faded into the background. the two of you went back to your own books and the weight of everything else, the pressure, the expectations, the loneliness all seemed a little more bearable for theo. because he wasn’t alone.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : thanks to @pintrestgrl for the request ! this is my first time writing for theo so i don’t really know what to think of it

reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated !!! don’t hesitate to leave requests too xx