CeruleanDodo



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    “All I know is I want—” Remus shuts his mouth in a panic. Gulps. Dry mouth. Palpitations. Sweaty palms.

    Sirius tilts his head. “What? What do you want?” Gray eyes. Collarbones. Body heat.

    “Nothing,” Remus' eyes shift to Sirius’ lips and then quickly back to smoky eyes, “it doesn’t matter.”

    “Remus,” Sirius drawls, exasperated. He steps forward and Remus steps back colliding into the wall behind him. Sirius is smirking up at him. And fuck Remus is staring at his lips again.

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    28 Jun 2025

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Draco's stuck working as a sex-advice columnist after the Ministry impounded both his family's money and Malfoy Manor. He traded on his sex god reputation at Hogwarts in order to get the job, but there are a few small problems: he's a virgin, and he also has no idea what he's talking about.

    When Hermione Granger arrives at his office, irate at the poor quality of his advice, Draco finds himself blackmailed into letting her instruct him on the proper way to give sex advice. She apparently gets up to some pretty creative sexual practices in her spare time, but she's also an irritating, intrusive know-it-all. Draco should be chomping at the bit to get rid of her, so why is he fantasizing about her all the time?

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    28 Jun 2025

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    “I don’t fit in the standard size,” he tried.

    Was it possible to die from mortification? Perhaps if he was lucky, he’d pass out from the lack of oxygen being sent to his brain, what with how much blood was currently being routed to his cheeks and…elsewhere.

    After a moment, the coin dropped. Her eyes went wide, then snapped to his trousers. “Oh.”

    ---

    Or when colleagues Draco and Hermione are put in the same hotel room and Hermione can't help being nosy.

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    23 Jun 2025

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    “It’s called This or That, Granger. I’m sure you’ll pick it up quick.”

    She glowered at him. “It’s called Would You Rather and it’s a Muggle game, you prat.”

    He made a one-arm gesture of acceptance. “Fine, Granger. Would you rather…” He assessed her then smirked. “Have someone use their hands to give you a back massage or an orgasm?”

    She got the sense he expected her to blush at the word. She stared at him, frustration mounting that he was being so juvenile and making their project take longer than it needed to.

    “Can’t decide?” He quipped when she was still staring at him.

    “Back massage,” she snapped. “I can’t do that myself.”

    He chuckled. “Can’t do either of them yourself, but perhaps you’re too pure to know that. Pity not in the way that matters.”

    Now she looked up. “What?”

    ———

    Or where Malfoy thinks women don’t masturbate and Hermione cannot abide ignorance.

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    23 Jun 2025

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    The ice-cold mist assaulted him first, contrasting with the comparatively warm air and highlighting exactly how terrible his next two minutes were about it be. Was it worth it? To step under the spray and snuff out a little bit of his happiness forever?

    He thought of the look she would send him as he walked into the Great Hall, the way her gaze always found his and held for a tiny, infinitesimal moment before she was either drawn back into conversation, or completed whatever eating-or-drinking action she’d been midway through, or—beautifully, disastrously—sent a tiny smile over at him.

    The shiver that wracked through him had nothing to do with the goosebumps pricking along his entire body. The ache in his groin was unending.

    Fuck.

    He stepped under the spray.

    ---

    Or, Draco resorts to a cold shower or two.

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    23 Jun 2025