Pottling (Harry Potter And The Infirmary Ceiling)

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     The Hogwarts hospital wing was a place Harry Potter frequently visited. Somehow it seemed every time he so much as took a step out of his dorm he ended up here, on a bright white bed, bored out of his mind, and waiting for Madame Pomfery's assorted draughts to take effect. This time wouldn't have been any different had Harry not looked up and been struck with a sudden rush of emotions.
     They say you fall in love the way most people fall asleep- slowly then all at once. Looking back, Harry supposed that he had been slowly but surely falling in love with the infirmary ceiling. And now was the all at once part.
    He blushed and whispered,  "I- Ceiling... I think- I think I love you. "
    He could feel the ceiling mentally embrace him and say the same back to him (they had a kind of telepathy towards each other if you must know), and Harry felt the familiar sensation of comfort and security that comes with staring at the ceiling wash over him. But this time, it was mixed with a new emotion- lust.
     Looking around, he soon realized he was alone and snuck a hand under his blanket. Closing his eyes, he imagined the ceiling's rough 'skin' wrapping around him, leaving him immersed in a a blanket of white. The way he imagined the roughness of the ceiling against his d*ck was almost as much of a turn on as the dirty words the ceiling was transmitting to his mind.
     "Yes Harry, rub yourself while you think about my white expanse caressing your soft, naked body."
     He finished to the sound of the wall's thoughts echoing in his brain, just cleaning himself up in time before he fell asleep thanks to Madame Pomfery's sleeping draught.
    "Good Night ceiling, darling."

Wow that was soooo difficult to write without overheating 😩😩😳😳😅😅 lmao