draco and scorpius on the beach for @tackytigerfic 💗
dear tacky, this is a gift from @sitp-recs for your friendship anniversary! you've both done such important work for this fandom and we're all very lucky to have you!
Dramione Spring Wedding 💐
Harry Potter preference “Thigh Riding” (NSFW)
(Back with some HP preference! It’s been a while! Hope you guys enjoy it and it is as requested! Gifs not mine)
Severus-When it comes to riding his thighs, he’d usually be at your mercy and you’re the one working him up and teasing him about needing you. He’d grow aroused looking at you and feeling you against him, his hands instinctively wanting to hold you close or even touch you in return just to see you riled up, at times it being so much he can’t help but finish right in his pants because of you.
Remus-When it comes to riding his thighs, he’d love to see you slowly come undone and grow greedier with each thrust of yours, purposely touching you and egging you on to keep going for him. He’d slowly touch you and feel you up, wanting you to focus in every little things that make you want more and more of him, even whispering sweet nothings or complete filth just to mess with you and definitely relishing in seeing you come before him from the simple act.
Sirius-When it comes to riding his thighs, he’d usually be in complete control and wouldn’t let you think for a second you can get your way with him, since he’s making you do such thing for his own viewing pleasure. He’d be completely greedy, opening your shirt or hiking up your skirt just to actually touch and tease you, mocking you for being so desperate for him and definitely ending up getting himself off as well along with you as he’s too impatient.
Lucius-When it comes to riding his thighs, he’d usually be quite demanding and in a more jealous mood, reminding you that you’re his and he can do as he pleases even teasing you until you can’t handle it anymore. He’d often be in a more degrading mood and would make demands of you to touch yourself and beg for him, clearly getting off on your needy state and pushing his boundaries as he gets his hands on you and ends up overstimulating you.
Draco-When it comes to riding his thighs, he’d want to be in control and prove himself to you, disciplining you while at it and definitely enjoying to see you begging for him to get you off. He’d gladly spank you to correct you and would gradually expose yourself to him more and more as he toys with your body, mocking your pathetic state and making you whine and moan for more from him.
Harry-When it comes to riding his thighs, he’d definitely want you to enjoy it as much as possible seeing it as a way to get you off when you’re both in a rush or so, growing cocky when he sees how desperate you are. He can’t help eventually but touch you and would help you get as undressed as possible, slowly losing his own composure and the two of you ending up needing more than just this to get off.
Moody-When it comes to riding his thighs, he’d usually be in the mood for it when he’s jealous and trying to get a rise out of you, wanting to see you desperate for him and making it a point that he’s in control. He’d easily stop you or make you go faster with how much bigger he is than you, as well as touching every sensitive part of yours as please and correcting you whenever you’d act up and would try to go your own way.
Fred-When it comes to riding his thighs, he’d do it mainly to tease you and get you going, eventually leading to the both of you usually grinding against one another as he can’t help himself around you. He’d love gripping you against him and would always have a habit of sneaking his hand into your clothes already, purposely touching you even more and wanting you to do the same for him, letting the act go so you can both get down to it.
George-When it comes to riding his thighs, he’d do it to tease you and would be quite playful with you not wanting to particularly drive you crazy but enough to get you in the right mood. He’d enjoy seeing how you’d gradually look aroused and take in every little detail, using it to his advantage later or so on to please you even more, quite glad that deep down only he gets to see you this way.
Tom-When it comes to riding his thighs, he’d usually be in a jealous and annoyed mood to go to such lengths, wanting you to make it up to him and show him how much you need him, being quite stern. He’d be quite mean at times parting his thighs to make it difficult or would purposely pick up the pace just to have it his way, when he’d be satisfied enough he’d surprise you with how he either relieves you or takes you back to bed for more.
Percival-When it comes to riding his thighs, he’d definitely entice you and would take it slow, loving to you gradually grow needier for him, purposely talking dirty to you while at it to keep you going until you can’t take it. He’d definitely enjoy teasing you undressing you while at it and carefully touching you here and there just to rouse you and make you thrust deeper for more, doing his best to keep his composure until he can’t handle it anymore and needs you.
Barty Crouch Jr.-When it comes to riding his thighs, he’d be a bit overwhelming usually in a mood to overstimulate you, touching and kissing you to get you completely soaked so he can finally take you. Eventually he can’t help but practically try to get you off by any means until you’re begging him to fuck you, the act of it being nothing more than really just intense foreplay for the both of you.
Newt-When it comes to riding his thighs, he’d be rather shy and would usually let you be the one to lead him, growing aroused to see you work yourself so much against him and tease him this way. Eventually he’d let his guards down slowly, clinging to you here and there and begging you to not be so lovely, trying so hard to stifle himself despite you practically making him moan the more you’d go on about it.
Theseus-When it comes to riding his thighs, he’d do his best to be comfortable and make you feel that way as well, leading you and teasing you as he knows you’d enjoy all while making sure you’re fine with what he’s doing. Of course, he’d get into it a bit more the deeper you’re aroused by him, even bouncing his thighs just to startle you and get new noises out of you before he ends up undressing you completely.
Grindelwald-When it comes to riding his thighs, he’d be in complete control and would slow down or pick up the pace as he deems you’re worthy of, enjoying to see you in pleasure at his disposal. He’d easily command you as he pleases and would touch you when he feels like it, constantly playing mind games with you just to see you crumble before him and practically beg for him to finally rail you.
Dumbledore-When it comes to riding his thighs, he’d let you be in control enjoying to see you get off on him and grow needier, eventually losing his own cool at times as he can’t handle the wait. In those instances, he’d grip onto you and would gladly help you get off grinding you deeper against him and kissing you, before eventually it devolves into you both just being desperate for one another.
Tags : @angel-with-broken-wings , @wherethefairytalescometrue . @witch-queen-of-the-north-side , @xlijahsgirl , @jedionironthrone , @starspangledassbootie , @panda-land , @ecurrier109 , @fandomwritingismylife , @happyshaddow94 , @my-youth-is-my-own , @iammostdefinitelyonfire26 , @withered8dandelion , @mad-boggart, @bexholtzmann , @amyisacinnamonroll , @emoryhemsworth , @antonija89 . @bookowlextraordinaire , @thebookwormslytherin , @sunnyfortomorrow , @fandomnerd1492 , @anoukikriszti , @sovereignoblivious , @the-baby-bookworm , @alayna-the-fangirl , @sirius-black-is-my-dogfather , @madamrogers , @ada-s-fuckking-username , @irenlaja2022001 , @rocking-like-a-ravenclaw , @thebandgirlnextdoor , @lovelywickedness , @elinaksy, @pilindielofgondor , @carpediemwallflower , @bloodamdroses512 , @karenmissa , @sparrowharkness , @angelprotectress , @thepokyone , @gruffle1 , @murielthemagicalgirl , @shorteeby40 , @angelprotectress , @the-not-so-iconic , @thephenomenalkingofthebrogues394 , @thebookwormslytherin , @kittycat2279 , @aethersghoulette , @shatneredperson , @splashytors , @lovelywickedness , @weirdestlove, @wraith-queen-todd, @partycityshowgirlfreak, @eirahughessinger, @addictedtofictionalcharacters, @car-karaoke, @rikkucheshire, @ssharkbabe, @haao20052313, @snow-white-feather-light, @moonysnape, @i-reblog-gr8-things, @galaxy0213,
When you have to be the Gryffindor even in some stupid spin the bottle games
Huge art block.
How do we cope?
✨Boys kissing ✨
when he sings a song so beautiful stones weep and let him in>>>>>>>>>
happy birthday to my love @emmalovesdilemmas
tiny home (a draco/ron/harry fic)
“Malfoy?” Harry calls out hoarsely. “It’s us. Let us in or—or, we’re walking in, alright?” He looks at Ron, panic edging into his gaze. “This isn’t good,” he says darkly. “This isn’t liveable. I know he went off grid for a bit but I didn’t expect—”
The door swings open.
“I beg your pardon, I did not go off grid. Whatever that means.”
Malfoy stands on the threshold of his dilapidated home, and Ron’s eyes can’t look anywhere else.
It’s been six years. Some things have changed. Others, not at all.
Malfoy’s hair, as uniquely pale as ever, is longer. The ends brush his shoulders and it’s half tucked behind his ears; his right earlobe is pierced through with a little silver hoop that winks amongst those fine blond strands. He’s wearing a white shirt, loose and long, buttoned at the wrists, and are those velvet leggings—
Malfoy is scowling at them.
Harry has gone deathly quiet.
Harry and Ron left the Aurors years ago to travel the world and make up for lost time. When they finally decide to settle roots back in England, together, building a tiny home in the Lake District by hand seems like the perfect plan. What they don't realise is that Draco Malfoy already lives on the plot of land that they choose to build on.
A story about years of feelings, about weaving lives in and around each other, and about finding a place safe enough to call home.
Tiny Home | Rated E | Dronarry
Read on ao3
Call Me, Beep Me
Okay so this was supposed to be a scene in "this is me trying" but I couldn't find a place for it at the time. But today I was going through old files and found the outline for the fic, which is my favorite of all my fics so far, so I looked at it. I saw this idea and it made me smile. So this can be seen as in the same universe, or as a standalone. In the universe of the fic, you could consider it after the grocery shopping part and before the bread scene.
It's also for the old @drarrymicrofic prompt, "got my number." Enjoy!
Harry pounded at the door, feeling his cheeks flush with anger. His other hand was clenched in his pocket, crushing the bit of parchment that'd brought him to the flat, the door still closed and mocking him. As much as an innocuous wooden door could be mocking.
He growled under his breath and pounded on the door again, not stopping until his fist hit open air instead of wood.
"Potter, what the fuck? How did you get in?" Malfoy stood in the doorway, bewildered. The top two buttons of his orange uniform polo were undone.
Harry didn't answer and pushed past him, striding into the flat. Malfoy scoffed and murmured something about "uncouth manners" before closing the door. Harry ignored it, glaring at him. "You know, if you didn't want to see me, you could've just said so."
Malfoy blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
"If you didn't want to see me—"
"What are you talking about? You said you'd contact me when we went to the store! When we were walking back"
Harry sputtered in disbelief. "I did! You didn't respond!"
"Really, Potter? Because I've heard absolutely nothing from you in days!"
"Then tell me why my Owl's come back with this—" Harry took out the parchment in his pocket and thrust it in Malfoy's face—"every day for the past week!"
Malfoy took the parchment with a frown, skimming it quickly. After a moment he looked up sharply at Harry, incredulous.
"Potter, you absolute imbecile! I live in a Muggle neighborhood! Did you really think an Owl would be able to find my flat, let alone be able to fly up to my windowsill and be let in without drawing any attention?"
"So you didn't—"
"Of course, I didn't! Do you really think I'd have ignored a letter from you?!" Malfoy blushed, averting his eyes.
Harry's shoulders the back of his neck as the anger drained from his body. "So you...didn't get the letters?"
"No. I thought you'd forgotten. Or that you...were just being polite," Malfoy mumbled.
Harry let the corner of his mouth quirk up into a brief, sheepish smile. "I didn't. I wasn't. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."
Malfoy snorted. "When are you ever?"
"I have my moments. Like now," Harry said, taking the parchment from Malfoy's hand and picking up a pen on a nearby side table. He wrote down some numbers and handed the parchment back to Malfoy. "That's my number. You have a Muggle mobile, right?"
"Yes, I do."
"And you know how to use it, right?"
Malfoy glared. "I've been in the muggle world for three years now and held steady employment for most of that time. Of course, I have a mobile."
Harry held up his hands placatingly. "Well you said you hadn't learned to drive yet, so I thought—"
"And surely operating a mobile is as complicated, dangerous, and time-consuming as driving a bloody car."
"I'm sorry! Okay? I was just eager to—" Harry blushed. "To talk to you,"
Malfoy looked at him critically, and Harry's cheeks reddened under the scrutiny. Finally, Malfoy sighed.
"Why don't you go back to your own flat and I might send you a message."
Harry bit back the relieved grin that threatened to take over his face. He opened his mouth to reply but Malfoy held up a hand. "Now if you'll excuse me, Potter, I have to finish getting ready for work." Harry tried not to stare at the hollow of the pale neck being covered up as nimble fingers began fastening the last of the buttons. Harry swallowed.
"Potter?" Harry's eyes snapped up to meet gray eyes narrowed in suspicion. Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "You were on your way out?"
Harry shook himself. "Er, yes. Right. I'll be going. Text me! Bye, Malfoy!" He said, quickly making his way out of the flat and shutting the door triumphantly behind him.
The drive back to Grimmauld Place was a blur, but when he finally burst through the door, he found his phone where he'd left it charging in his haste to confront Malfoy.
He picked it up with slightly shaking hands, grinning when he saw a message from an unknown number:
"Potter, maybe next time you decide to drop by unannounced, you'll be able to text me first before you try to make a dent in my door."
oops someone’s caught feelings
Short idea that came to mind <3
Summary: You are American and decide to tease your husband by using British slangs around the house to get his reaction.
Pairing: Tom Felton x Reader
Warnings: light smut
"Darling, I'm home!" I heard Tom call from the front door and I told him I was in the kitchen finishing our lunch. He came behind me hugging my waist and pulling me against his body while leaving sweet kisses on the side of my neck.
I turned around in his arms placing my hand on his face meeting his eyes before going on my tip toes and placing my lips on his soft ones. His hands cupped my cheeks like always and he deepened the kiss resting his forehead against mine once we pulled away.
"How was your day, darling?" he asked and I smiled remembering how he always teases me about my American accent deciding it was my turn to do the same.
"It was absolutely mental, darling" I answer trying my best to sound like him whenever he would have a bad day and came home to tell me about it.
"Mental?" he asked with raised eyebrows about to to burst out laughing but I kept my character pulling away and placing dishes on the table.
"Yes, mental!" I say seriously and he pulls me back into his arms evident smirk on his face.
"Have you gone mad? You never use British slang?" he asked and I rolled my eyes playfully.
"What got your knickers in a twist?" I said and he finally laughed out loud melting my heart while I caressed his oft cheeks.
"I guess once you go British there is really no going back" he said through laughter and I smiled shaking my head.
"I need to go use the loo" I joke starting to laugh myself and he laughed louder while sitting down in the dinning room.
"Are the peppers spicy?" he yelled and I exited the bathroom smiling to myself.
"They are bloody hot, mate" I said and we both laughed like crazy before starting to at our meal.
We always enjoy laying on the couch together after lunch just letting ourselves calm down and digest the food while sharing about our days. I was sitting between his legs my back against his Chet while he played with my hair.
"You know, hearing your British accent does dangerous things to me darling..." Tom whispered and I looked back to see if he was joking but his face seemed serious.
"Mmm is that so Mr. Felton" I spoke in a British accent while straddling his lap and kissing his lips passionately feeling his hands roam my body.
After the wedding of Pansy and Neville, Draco invited Hermione on a date
WHY DO THEY NEED TO BE GOOD PEOPLE
WHY IS THEM BEING MURDERERS A BAD THING
WHY DOES IT MEAN THEY NEED THERAPY
FOR GOD'S SAKE JUST LET THEM BE EVIL
DOWN WITH REDEMPTION ARCS
LET THEM GO APESHIT
between belfast and cardiff | d.m. x reader
word count: 2614
warnings: nsfw, smut, penetrative sex, dirty talk, draco being an absolute simp
“in my imagination, you're waiting lying on your side. with your hands between your thighs... when you look at me like that, my darling, what did you expect?”
draco had never much cared for the hallowed halls of malfoy manor.
not until he’d invited you to visit him on a layover between your mum’s in belfast to your dad’s in cardiff, at least. you lit up the marble and green halls like sunshine personified in a dress with a smile he was beginning to hate because he knew with absolute certainty he’d do anything you asked of him if only it brought that smile to your face.
malfoy manor sat on a great patch of land, acres and acres of woods behind and around the house and because you’d asked, he’d taken you this morning on a walk through them. he guessed it was about noon now, with the way the sun was high in the sky and glinting off your hair, lighting up your eyes. you were lightly sunburnt and it had brought out freckles on your bare shoulders and for the life of him, draco couldn’t tear his eyes away. he wanted to kiss them, kiss you.
he dragged a hand through his hair instead. “did that satiate your curiosity?” he asked, tone clipped. he was being right pathetic.
“god, draco, stop - you know what that tone does to me,” you deadpanned.
“sarcasm is unbecoming,” he snapped at you.
a small smile was on your lips. “and yet, here you stand, enraptured by my mere presence.”
you’d cooked for him and something in his chest felt tight. “is it any good?” you asked tentatively from beneath long lashes. he’d known you since he could really remember - had seen you with choppy bangs you’d cut yourself, had seen the baby fat melt off your face as you’d seen him grow into the gawky angles of his. he’d watched it happen but it still felt so sudden, so utterly jarring. it was like he’d only looked away for a second, bent down to tie his shoe, and looked back up and you were there. willowy and graceful as a nymph, your laugh echoing around him as he ran to catch up to you.
draco carefully set down his fork and knife, “much better than the last time you cooked for me.”
you burst out laughing. “what, you’re too good for mudpies, dray?”
he was smiling back at you before he realized it. stood up, gathered his dishes and held out his free hand to you, still in your chair at the head of his dining table. “come on, darling,” he offered softly, “i’ll help you with the dishes.”
you were biting your nails, warm and drowning in draco’s too-big jacket in central london while he snapped, “that’s disgusting,” down at you.
you flicked your eyes up at him briefly, nerves alight in your stomach. he looked too good in just that starched white dress shirt and neatly pressed black slacks, his pale hair pushed out of his face and his scent enveloping you. “don’t look, then,” you replied absently. normally you had less patience for draco’s snippy attitude but your mind was too elsewhere to give it much thought. you had a plan and if you didn’t move soon - if you stood here next to him any longer - you’d lose your nerve. “go ahead to the three broomsticks, i’ll meet you,” you told him.
“what, you haven’t had your fill?” a pale brow flicked up at you, his arms laden with shopping bags. heat rushed to your face, burning. he’d bought you half of london today, you were sure of it. before you could manage a reply though, he was grabbing your wrist, bringing your hand up, folding your fingers around his black card. “get whatever you want,” he held your eyes for a long second and turned. within a minute you’d lost his tall figure in the bustling crowd and took in a fortifying breath.
you headed for the little lingerie shop you’d seen a couple blocks back.
the aftertaste of butterbeer was turning acrid in his mouth as he thought of you.
was he being pathetic, acting like this? or just ridiculous? both, he decided. but there was something so satisfying in watching you tout in and out of dressing rooms, doing little spins just for him, in the glimpses of bare skin as you turned your back to him and his knuckles skimmed up your spine as he zipped dress after dress. something so raw in the knowledge that no matter what, no matter if he was being right pathetic, no matter who put their eyes - or god forbid, their hands - on you, it would be him. his galleons you were wrapped up in, his opinion you valued, his…his.
he stewed in his thoughts, so wrapped up in himself he didn’t notice you until you were beside him, tapping him on the shoulder in his jacket.
without him realizing it, draco’s muscles loosened, the crease between his brows cleared and a smug expression took up residence on his face. “darling,” he drawled.
“are you ready to go, dray?” you asked, handing him back his card.
he got to his feet. “am i a poor man now, darling?”
you snorted and rolled your eyes and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. “i couldn’t make you a poor man if i tried.”
in somewhat of a mood, draco made his way to his room. you’d excused yourself to bed early, claiming all the walking had tired you out today, and he’d found his mood plummeting the moment you weren’t by his side.
he was angry at you for it - at himself. you were just a girl.
he sighed deeply. yes, just a girl. but a girl who wrote in the books he lent her, stole his uniform ties, competed fiercely with him for top of the class and who had a smile that could make him see the point in this miserable bloody world.
he pushed open his door prepared for -
he blinked. squinted in the dim light bleeding from the waning moon outside his window.
this was not what he’d been prepared for.
“darling?” he inquired. he could see your pale calves, your instep lit by the moonlight, but your face was hidden in night.
“lumos,” your voice was a whisper and candles flared to life around the room.
it took a long moment before draco was able to compose a sentence. because there you were - laying on your stomach on his bed, not at all decent in a strappy little thing, your legs kicked into the air, crossed at the ankles. he cleared his throat, tried for words that wouldn’t, simply couldn’t, form. he took a cautious step forward, one after the other, until he was at the foot of his bed and you were sitting up, getting to your knees.
your lingerie was composed of lace and he could barely decide where to focus his attention - your face, eyes burning as you stared back at him and your cheeks pink; your tits, barely contained by the frail fabric of your bra, your nipples peaked through the fabric; or perhaps at the barely-there panties crowned with a bow, like your pussy was a present waiting to be opened by him.
you were crawling towards him. “all this for me?” he inquired, letting a finger trail, feather-light, barely there, across your exposed midriff. you nodded, lip bitten between teeth. “how cute,” draco mused, the two of you staring at each other. “how filthy.”
you lunged at him, pressing your mouth to his, grabbing onto his shoulders. everything about the action felt desperate but he didn’t mind. he pressed back into you, kissing you like it was a competition, like he was trying to prove something. he supposed he was.
after all, what was the point of this if he couldn’t prove to you exactly why this was the best idea you’d ever come up with?
he let the hands on your waist trail everywhere. your skin was so fucking soft. you smelled like nighttime air and tasted like the apple you’d shared for dessert. you were gasping for breath and draco was more than happy to breathe it back into you.
your hands were fumbling at his pants, the clang of his belt buckle loud amid your harsh, desperate breaths. even the slightest hint of contact from you had him jumping out of his skin, sent electricity jolting through him. it felt like cruel teasing as you tried to get him out of his pants, if only because it was taking so long.
your hand slipped below the waistband of his briefs and he was going to die before the hour was out. your cool fingertips caressed the over-sensitive head of him and a low sound clawed its way out of his throat.
your small hand began pumping him and he had to grab your wrist to stop you. another minute of that and he thought his head would blow off and he’d ruin his pants before he’d even gotten to touch you, to see how wet your little pussy was for him.
he knocked you back on the bed, his chest heaving. you were staring up at him, bright-eyed in the dim room as he began undoing the buttons of his creased oxford. “i don’t care what this is for,” he told you. “if it’s because you feel like you need to repay me for all the money i spent on you today or because of my gracious hosting abilities -” you huffed out a breathless laugh. “all i care,” he continued, now descending on you, bare-chested, “is that i get to have you.”
you didn’t answer, and he didn’t care. maybe he was selfish to simply take what you were offering without question, but you were half-naked below him and tugging at his hair, begging for his mouth back. he toyed with the crisscrossing straps of the top you wore, a half-amused tilt to his mouth before he took the letter opener on his nightstand to them, letting them fall to the wayside to reveal your tits.
he nearly fell to his knees at the sight and used the letter opener to make quick work of the rest of your ensemble. you shivered below him at the feel of the metal, at the feel of him, he suspected.
when you were entirely bare beneath him, draco dragged a finger from slit to sternum. he fell on your tits ravenously, sucking at them, biting lightly, caressing your nipples, making you desperate for more - for something heavier, headier. his mind was running wild with every indecent, depraved idea he’d ever had about you. he’d once stared at your tits in a low cut top and fantasized about having them bounce in his face as your rode him; had imagined tying up your hands and fucking you until you cried and squirmed and begged for mercy.
draco couldn’t decide, and while he deliberated, eyes blown black above you, you decided for him. you hooked your legs around his narrow hips and rolled him, not without some struggle, onto his back. you shivered atop him as your cunt brushed across his abdomen as you scooted down, your body wreathed in moonlight. draco tossed his head back, groaned as if in pain as you hovered above his cock, brushing the head of him through your slick, warm folds. “no,” he said, “no - absolutely not,” and flipped you back onto the bed.
you landed with a soft sound of surprise and draco pushed your thighs open, settling himself between them and lining his cock up. when he pushed himself, slowly, oh so slowly, into you he thought he might die, and he couldn’t decide if the noise you made - a gasping sort of whimper - helped or made it worse.
when he bottomed out in you, he stopped - stared with a look rivaling madness at where you were connected.
“kiss me,” you begged, and clenched around him when he did.
draco began a slow rhythm, and you writhed around below him, squirmy, with restless legs and wandering hands. “tell me what you want, pretty girl,” he murmured against your jaw.
“more,” you tugged at his hair. “i didn’t get all dressed up with the intention of being able to walk tomorrow.”
heat blazed through him and draco sat back on his knees, observing you for a long moment before he smirked and his hands went to your hips. tipped them up an inch or two. and fucked you hard. fast, punishing thrusts that made your tits bounce and your vision unsteady.
“dra-ay,” his name was a broken sound out of your mouth. you reached up with grabbing hands; draco pulled you up into his chest so now you were perched on his thighs, arms loose over his shoulders and mouth at his jaw, his neck, biting and sucking. he’d have bruises tomorrow. his hands moved down to your ass, lifting you up and down on his cock. with every movement your nipples scraped against his chest and your clit against his pelvis.
your nails scored into his back when he shifted a little, high, frenzied moans falling from your parted lips. draco echoed your moans back to you, “yeah, you like that, darling? still think you’ll be able to leave this bed tomorrow?”
“ho-ope, n-o-ot,” you stuttered out.
“that’s my girl,” draco toppled you both back to the bed, pressing in close and heavy on top of you, his thrusts pushing your body up the bed slowly, until your head nearly hit the headboard and the sheets were half-stripped off the mattress. “that’s my fuckin’ girl,” he said again, words slurring together as you squeezed around him, arched into him, gasping, “yes - oh yes yesyesyes, gonna come, dracodracodraco -”
“taking my cock so good - takin’ everything i’ve got t’give you and still beggin’ f’more. gonna let me feel you soak my fucking cock, baby?”
you nearly screamed as you came apart around him, shuddering, thighs twitching. you grabbed him so frantically he thought it might have hurt if he could feel anything past your cunt milking his cock so hard he thought he might die.
“gonna make me come, baby - fuck. are you gonna let me fill up this pretty little pussy when i do?”
you nodded, gasped, “yes yes yes - please dray - want you to come.”
your words, the look on your face, the little sounds escaping you, your tits, the way you were squeezing him warm and so, so fucking wet - it was all too much and draco went falling over the edge. he moaned, hoarse and low as he pumped you full of his come, squeezing at your waist hard enough he’d feel bad about it later. you were a malleable thing beneath him and he collapsed over you, barely catching himself on his hands before crushing you under his weight. he kissed you bruisingly before falling onto his back next to you, arm thrown over his eyes, trying to catch his breath.
after a moment, you were leaning over him, propped up on his side. your hair brushed against him and you laughed brightly, almost disbelievingly.
draco lowered his arm, narrowed his eyes at you. his pale face was splotched with red. “what?” he demanded.
“if i’d known you were as good at that as you are at running your mouth i wouldn’t have wasted the first half of my visit getting on your nerves.”
draco couldn’t help help the startled laugh that burst from him. “to think i could’ve just bent you over the furniture when you started getting on my nerves.”
“a national tragedy, really. but you’ll remember that idea for next time, yeah?”
“I’m not entirely sure as to why we’re all still roped to be the bad guys. Everyone looks for someone to blame and I guess we’re the scapegoats, after all most of the death eaters belonged to our house, a true tragedy. We are not all the evil-borns of pureblood and rich bigots. And as for Draco, he had no choice. Think about putting yourself in his shoes. If a powerful dark wizard chose you to carry out such a deed by threatening your loved ones and promising to torture everyone you know and love, what would you do? Of course those who aren’t familiar with this world nor the truth about us, categorise every Slytherin as evil. As the mascot of our house; snakes. They forget about our strength, intellect, resilience, cunningness, ambition, wit and creativity. They forget how we see what others don’t. Always somehow, a step ahead. Always aware. Almost too aware about the evil and good in this world. We make the world run. We push ourselves to achieve the impossible, the unknown, the great. Yet we’re all “bad”. We are romantics, the hurt yet the strongest. The hidden empaths. Our bravery lies in our thoughts and beliefs. We may not be the best at expressing our emotions, but that doesn’t mean we’re cold at heart and soulless. We are the cold but welcoming breeze in autumn. The moonlight on a summer evening. The tides in the ocean. And of course, the soul soothing rain. We teach others to hope even when there is none. To keep fighting even when you don’t want to anymore. Because we believe. We are the invisible dreamers, optimists, romantics, empaths, fighters and believers.”
Chapter 4 of Hogwarts: A Home
Art by @elivrayn
She attempted to tilt the broom down so that she could begin the descent. But in a split second, Hermione didn't know how, she was in a nose dive—straight towards the grass. She heard shouts, distant and shrill. She tried to pull at the handle but it only made her lose her grip. She was falling, falling, falling…
Where's the broom?
Where's my wand?
As she braced herself for impact, she felt a hard pull around her waist, a strong tug that knocked the breath out of her. In a blur of grass and robes she felt the falling sensation stop. She lifted her head to suck in a deep breath only to find herself lying on top of Draco Malfoy.
Her arms were tucked in and resting on the hard planes of his chest. Their legs were tangled and his large hands were splayed across her lower back, clutching her tightly to him. He wasn't looking at her. His eyes were sternly fixed on the top of her head. She'd never been this close to him before. She was mesmerized by his eyes, steel—
No...silver, shiny like sterling silver.
Ron pulled her up off of Malfoy and into his arms. She was shaking.
Soft Landing: A Healing Pre-8th Year Term
•cloak charmed to turn into a weighted blanket when you tap the pin, soft and breathable
•hats have muffling charms activated/adjusted by twisting the brim
•if you are traumatized you have a legal right to at least a weeks worth of soft grippy socks
•lots of windows but they all have blackout curtains and safety charms
•a basket of oranges charmed to stay frozen, for panic attacks
•I Spy books but the location of items changes once you solve a page
•24/7 emergency floo
•portrait monitored group snack time! Every day, non optional!
•tea cart and biscuit tin, replenished nightly
•a crafts table with art supplies and rocks to paint
mm day 18 - secrets
for @microficmay. all my entries are connected, a story of harry and draco and a month in the midnight sun of norway, in search of a dragon.
50 words. no rating. for those who have been following along, thank you and also, don’t hate me after this one. you can read all entries in order on AO3 here: jesus, etc or on tumblr here.
Harry, hanging laundry, finds the note in Draco’s pocket. It’s been crumpled, torn, spellotaped back together:
Watch Harry for me. Dad says he’s not well, since the war.
You think I chose him, but you’re wrong. It’s always you, my fearless heart.
Keep Harry close.
I love you.
Harry : You know what would just be great?
Draco : what?
Harry : killing myself.
Draco : .... I'm calling therapy