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Simon let out a soft sound of complaint, warm palms finding Wille’s face to cup, guiding him back up. “Keep your pretty face in front of mine..” he mumbled, “want to see you.”
“All yours to see,” Wille promised, lips attached to his jaw again, kissing and sucking, slowly trailing downwards towards his neck again.
Or
Wilhelm wakes up Simon with neck kisses that lead to more. Simon has to be somewhere, Wilhelm edges his orgasm anyway.
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Ron's been in love with Viktor Krum since fourth year.
He's been running from Viktor Krum since fourth year.
Why? He's an absolute tit who needs a little Gryffindor bravery...
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Viktor’s, Ron reads, his lips puckering in a frown that’s more suspicious than bemused. -
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Viktor asks Ron to dance.
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A series of post-canon, aged-up Wilmon ficlets written in response to a Tumblr challenge. I'll continue to add to this collection over time.
Prompts so far:
1 - “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”
2 - “I swear it was an accident.”
3 - “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”
4 - “No one has to know.”
