9. Glancing at each other in a crowded room and your friends notice (secret relationship). 0.7k wc

It had only been fifteen minutes since you had come down form his dorm. Separately, of course. However, you just couldn't tear your eyes away from him, catching every little glance he sent your way. You could still feel his hands on your hips from the firm grip he had on them, seeing flashes of him throwing his head back into the pillow every time he turned his face to look at you. You squeezed your thighs together tightly, remembering the way his cock so easily glided in and out of you as you rode him every time you blinked.

Neville's gaze landed on you, making direct eye-contact that was too much for you to handle, especially after what had just gone down. You were afraid that if he looked at you for a second longer, your legs would take control over your body and make you pounce on him, straddling his hips and kissing him passionately in front of all your friends. All your clueless friends who had no idea what went on behind closed doors. Blinking a few times, you looked back up, only for your eyes to widen: Neville was still looking at you, never having torn his eyes from you in the first place, observing your every move as though it would let him read your mind.

A sharp elbow to your side had you flinching, crying out a sharp "Ow!" at Hermione's sudden movement. Peering up to look at her, you noticed the rest of your friends' gaze torn between you and Neville. "What the hell is going on?" Whisper yelled Hermione, a much more appropriate volume than Seamus's screech of "You've been eye-fucking each other for the past hour!" Blood instantly rushed up your chest, quickly heating your neck and face up. "Well-well we haven't even been sat here an hour, Seamus." You retorted, clearing your throat as your gaze reconnected with Hermione's mildly concerned one. "Yeah, because that makes the whole difference." Added Ron, scoffing.

"Herbology homework could not have been that bad!" Adds Harry, exposing the excuse you'd given him to occupy their dorm to the rest of the group. Gulping, you shyly glanced to your side where Hermione sat, convinced she would immediately figure it out. Her eyebrows were furrowed, but just as she opened her mouth, someone else spoke "Herbology homework?" Ron started, "Like the Herbology homework I copied from you this morning?" You averted your gaze from the ginger, desperately looking to your boyfriend for help. "Did we say Herbology?" Neville chuckled nervously, tugging at the hem of his thick sweater. You sighed, shutting your eyes tightly, rubbing your forehead with one of your hands.

"I could have sworn I told you it was Potions work." Neville hopelessly argued, awkwardly leaning back into the couch. Seamus leaned closer to Neville from where he sat beside him, squinting his eyes at your suspicious boyfriend. "No, no-" Harry continues, "Because you told be Y/N needed help with it, which is why you needed the peace and quiet of the dorm." Unravelled Harry, beginning to stand up, pointing an accusing finger at Neville. "Which is fucking weird, because Y/N's smarter than you. And there's no way Y/N needed help from Neville because I copied her homework this morning." Ron's head snapped towards Harry, putting a hand up for the other boy to high five as a whooped in success of the detective skills.

"And that means..." Hermione whispered, her tone a cross between horror and surprise. "They were having sex!" Screamed Seamus, hopping up to celebrate with Harry and Ron, who were jumping in a circle with their arms wrapped around each others' shoulders, immediately welcoming the third boy in the circle. "Why didn't you tell me!" Hermione shrieked, grabbing Ron's abandoned scarf on the couch and throwing it at you harmlessly. "I was going to!" You scream back as he reaches for a pillow this time, tossing it your way.

"It was on my calendar! Hermione- I swear!"

Kiss and Tell - Neville Longbottom

Also I didn't make this an in class thing but yas... Gryffindor!Reader

You knew Neville liked you. So did all your friends. In fact, pretty much everyone who crossed paths with you or Neville knew he liked you. But for his sake, such as your own, you never mentioned it, instead enjoying the attention he gave you and giving him soft smiles before quickly turning away from him so he couldn't see you internally panic, all your blood rushing to your face.

Despite both being Gryffindors though, you almost never encountered each other in the common room, often being separated by your different friend groups, or spending the night differently. It just so happened that on nights you had Quidditch practice, Neville would be in the common room, but when you were free, he was no where in sight. Thus, when you stumbled down to the common room late at night to finish your herbology essay, you were shocked to see Neville, sitting by the fireplace with his friends.

Other than the group of dorm mates laughing quietly, the common room was mostly empty, excluding a few 7th year students who widely intimidated you. You rushed to the long table next to the bookshelves, searching for the herbology book you'd purposefully left there the night before in hopes of encouraging you to get your work done. You had been unsuccessful. Finally laying your eyes on the thick textbook, you sighed, slumping down on one of the heavy, uncomfortable, wooden chairs at the very corner of the table.

Rubbing at your temples, you predicted how the night would go; you'd sloppily write one paragraph before your eyes would start to wander around, another hour passing by before you'd realise that you hadn't written enough for a full essay, but would half-ass a conclusion anyway so you could at least submit something. Oh, well. You scoffed at yourself, picking up your quill. This is unsurprising. After writing about a paragraph and a half, you're essentially copying down the words from the textbook blindly, leaning your head on your free hand.

"Y/N?" Your head snaps up and you inhale deeply, realising you'd zoned out as Neville begins to apologise for disturbing you. "No, no- Neville it's fine, really." You watch as he pulls a chair out at the head of the table and he catches your eye, pausing his movements. "I'm sorry, I didn't ask. Do you mind? If I sit?" His cheeks are rosy and you try to stop yourself from smiling, but you feel the tug at the corner of your lips nonetheless. "No, sit, Neville. Please." As he sits, you can't help but glance back at where he was sat with his friends, and notice them all staring straight at you. They definitely put Neville up to this, you register, as they all abruptly turn away from you, realising you'd caught them.

"Herbology?" Your head snaps back at Neville, nodding at his words. "Do you- well, do you need help?" You shake your head at him, pushing the paper aside. "No. I'm done with herbology for the night. Forever, actually." You both laugh at your words, and duck your heads away from each other, avoiding eye contact. You reach for your open ink bottle at the same time Neville does, pushing it towards you. You're too busy staring at where your fingers touch to grasp the fact that some of the ink has splattered out.

And suddenly, Neville's hand is pulling away from yours and he's panicking, and he's apologising and trying to find napkins. You're sat still during all of this, only perking up when Neville scurries back with tissues, leaning over you to wipe the ink off the table in front of you. He's close to you. So close you can smell his cologne. One of his hands grasps the back of your chair as he bends over slightly to clean the dark wood. You look up at him, admiring the way his usually neat hair falls into his face, mustering the courage to place your hand over his, immediately putting a halt to his movements.

"Neville. It's okay." You begin to stand, and he steps back so you're free to do so. When he tries stepping back further to give you space, you reach your hands out to grab the hem of the sleeves of his navy jumper. You step closer to him so your chests are nearly touching and lean in slightly. You hesitate, giving him enough time to pull away if he wanted to, but he doesn't. Moving one of your hands up to his shoulder, you lean in close enough to graze your lips against his lightly before fully pressing them against his.

The kiss is short. You pull away to watch his reaction, but don't get to take a glimpse at his face because he's grabbing you by the hips and tugging so you're completely pressed up against his body, your lips meeting his once more. This kiss is longer. Both your arms come up to his shoulders this time, one hand playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. You feel his goosebumps on your fingertips, letting him pull away from you, panting heavily. You smile, one of your hands coming back to your face to wipe some saliva off your bottom lip.

Neville is smiling broadly, his face nearly as red as his dorm mate's hair. He makes eye contact with you, but you can see him struggle to maintain it. Your hand snakes into his, and only then do you hear the cheers from beside the fireplace coming from his friends. "Um, I - Go out with me?" Even though he's staring at his shoes now, you giggle, leaning over one last time to kiss him on the cheek. Whilst still close to him, you whisper "I'd love to." Before releasing your hand from his and beginning to leave, only to remember your things on the table.

You're too giddy to feel embarrassed about having to turn back around to grab your stuff, running up to your dorm once you're done, and slamming the door behind you. You freeze, afraid to have woken up your dorm mates, but when three heads poke out from the curtains around Lavender's bed, you realise the only thing you interrupted was a gossip session.

Throwing your books on your bed, you trip over your feet running to join them, a story of your own to tell.

A/N: To everyone reading this fic who follows me, I'm so sorry I haven't posted in FOREVER. I have been so busy with everything, but I'm on holiday and will write as many things as I can. Love from mina xx

neville longbottom smut

reader makes Neville cum in his pants at a party. warnings: dry humping, whimpering, public sex(?), swearing 0.9k+ wc

Your body sways to the music, the plastic cup in your hand spilling some of your drink onto your hand, but it only blends in with the shimmering glint of sweat on your skin. You're dancing with some girl you don't recognise, singing the words to a song at the top of your lungs. You look around, trying to spot your boyfriend in the crowd, to make sure he's not doing anything he shouldn't be, only to notice him sitting on an armchair next to the fireplace, his eyes already on you.

He meets your gaze and your body suddenly goes hot, despite the warmth from the alcohol that had already settled in. He was keeping an eye on you, butterbeer in hand, not focused on anything else. You grin, pushing your way through the dance floor until you finally stumble away from the crowd of sweaty bodies and into the more dispersed area of the busy common room. You giggle when you approach Neville, watching as his eyes run along you figure. You down the rest of your drink, putting the now empty cut next to what you assumed was the empty bottle butter beer Neville had already had. "You okay sweetheart?" He asks and you nod, shifting to stand between his legs.

He sits up straight to put his hands on the back of your thighs, pulling you slightly closer to him; the most affection he'd giving you tonight. He offers you a sip of butterbeer but you decline, watching as he brings his lips to the bottle, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows, before putting the bottle aside. You bring a hand up to play with his hair as your hips start moving again, the other arm on his shoulder. You look down at the boy below you and sigh in pleasure as his hands start moving up and down your thighs.

His head leans on your lower stomach, his attention caught by the dancing bodies. You furrow your eyebrows, glancing over at the dance floor to look at all the girls in their tight dresses. You huff. The hand you have in his hair closes moderately into a fist and you tug it backwards slightly, making Neville look up at you, only to be met by your lips slamming down onto his. He moans loudly, his hands on your thighs moving so his arms can wrap around you.

His mouth immediately opens to welcome your tongue in and you put your weight onto him, pushing him back into the armchair as you climb onto him, your legs coming on either side of his thighs as you straddle him. Neville whimpers, the sound drowned by the music, his arms tightly wrapping themselves around your waist to pull you impossibly closer. And he does, dragging you across his lap so your panty-clad cunt grinds against his fully clothed dick.

You both moan into each other, and you feel your boyfriend's usually gentle hands travel down to your ass, roughly gripping it. You grind against Neville once more to see how comfortable he is with this, and he separates from the kiss to gasp for air, his mouth open in a silent moan. Your eyes scan the room, checking to see if you had attracted anyone's unwanted eyes, but your attention is brought back to Neville, who tugs your dress further down your thighs, having ridden up when you straddled him.

When you make eye contact with him again, his eyes are begging you to continue your movements and so is the tent in his pants. You push your hips down onto his and moan quietly, biting your lip. Neville's eyes widen and he looks around for a second before turning his attention back to you, a hand coming behind your neck to pull you into a kiss, the other one pushing your hips into his.

He gently humps his hips up into yours to encourage your movements, grunting as though he has never had your legs spread for him, and you dig your face into the crook of his neck, letting out a breathy moan. Your hot breath on his neck sends shivers down Neville's spine and he pants, leaning his head on your shoulder and looking down through the top of your dress. He whines, eyes widening at the sight of your tits, his hands immediately coming up to grope them. You let out a high pitched moan when he squeezes one of your perky nipple, hips bucking into his desperately, so that your pussy grinds right against the tent in his jeans, feeling the imprint of his cock against you.

Neville bites your shoulder to cover the loud whimpers that come out of him, hands gripping your thighs as he roughly bucks his hips into yours. That's when you feel the wetness on his jeans, this time not coming from you, and you grin proudly, pulling Neville into a kiss. He returns the kiss, still panting, his hands now softly caressing your sides. When you both separate from the kiss and Neville finally catches his breath, he says "How about we go upstairs and I can finish you off?"