#Severus narcissa Lucius | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

btsbabe7 · 2 months ago

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Safe Haven

Word Count: 6.9k

Pairing: Lucius Malfoy x reader, Draco Malfoy x reader

Warnings!: 18+, unprotected, age gap, intoxication, infidelity

Synopsis: After a long night out with friends, things take a drastic turn when you show up unexpectedly at the Malfoy Manor and your best friend isn’t the one who lets you in.

You find yourself on the doorstep of the Malfoy manor, lightheaded and nauseous, clothes soaked in rain, liver swimming in poison, and entirely too nervous and embarrassed to knock. You curse yourself for not sending for Draco, your best friend of a solid decade, to come rescue you from your recklessness. You’d insisted to your other friends that you could make it safely, that you knew your way home. And while you did arrive safely, you can’t bring yourself to lift your fist to ask for permission to enter.

The Malfoy Manor has always been a safe place for you throughout your childhood and granted you the same safety as an adult. You’d practically grown up here under the care of the house elf, Dobby, and the companionship of Draco Malfoy. Narcissa saw to things like taking you shopping for clothes and catering to your other womanly needs as you grew older. On the other hand, Lucius Malfoy was hardly present. He remained the breadwinner of the home and that came with the sacrifice of working long days and nights at the Ministry, and in his spare time, he’d used it to meet with friends.

When he was at home, he could be quite demanding. He constantly lectured Draco about slipping grades and the importance of putting his best foot forward instead of indulging in useless shenanigans.

One night, after his wife and son had long trailed off to bed, Lucius had stayed in the entertainment room with you to finish a movie. The both of you remained long after the movie ended, speaking about school, work, and life. He confided in you just as you had with him. You’d always known Lucius Malfoy to lack nothing, not of confidence, not of power, and certainly not control. Yet, that night he’d told you that he didn’t want Draco stuck at the Ministry like himself. He wanted a powerful son that would be able to take his place if the situation ever arose, to be prepared for anything, and be able to step up when his family needed him the most. Most of all, he just wanted someone, something that came from him, to be proud of.

You’d spent several years listening to Draco’s complaints about his father over breaks and in the courtyard at Hogwarts when you two would sneak out to meet late in the night. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to spill Lucius’ wishes. It felt as if you were overstepping every time his words echoed in your mind: someone to be proud of. When you were around, Lucius was a completely different man—tolerant, caring, even nice at times, and you knew Lucius needed to be the one to tell Draco himself.

Now, as an adult, you can recall the moments where he tried caring for Draco in the best way he knew how. You realized that being tough had become his default to shield himself from disappointment, to keep Draco on track. He’d tried to raise him to become a man of power with nothing but confidence and control in his arsenal. He hadn’t failed, but he also hadn’t let his guard down, never liberated himself from the need of being in control.

And part of being in control meant Lucius always remained aware of anything going on inside of and around the Malfoy property, so it’s no surprise that he’s the one that opens the door to your shivering body without you lifting a single finger.

“Look what the storm washed in,” he muses and motions you inside to take shelter from the pouring rain and lightening rolling in through distant black clouds. “You’ve been drinking.”

He doesn’t ask, just states it matter-of-factly.

Anyone with a nose can smell the bitterness seeping off your clothes, your body, your mouth. You smell of whisky and sweat and body odor that isn’t yours. You aren’t sure what you were attempting to drink away, but perhaps it was the searing that burns in your chest when his eyes meet yours.

The look is one you’ve seen him give many, but never to you, and it’s now spread over his hardened features. Disappointment is what lingers in those angry pale grey eyes.

“I… I came to s— I came to see D-drac—“ You let out a scoff, now utterly disappointed in yourself as you slur and stumble over the raised threshold. It’s truly a miracle that you’d made it here at all.

Had you truly allowed yourself to get this wasted?

That answer comes when Lucius uses his own body to shield you from tumbling onto the frigid tiles of the foyer. You cling to the silky sleeve of his robe as he hisses something vulgar under his breath.

“You can’t possibly be this drunk,” he snorts and locks the front door behind you both in a fury. “Who’ve you been with? You graduated years ago and this is how you choose to life? The life of a—a drunk? I expected more from a brilliant witch like yourself. I thought you incapable of falling this low. Does your father know you’re here?”

You rub into the sultry velvet and focus on the way it clings to his body. It’s a black so deep against his pale skin that it makes your eyes feel as if you’re staring into a void.

You hiccup and a soft smile plays at the corners of your mouth as you take in the tart apple and spicy woodsy scent that only the Malfoy men have. It reminds you of all the nights you’d sneak into Draco’s room as a kid and cuddle against his side when you couldn’t sleep, and in your current drunken state, it’s completely intoxicating.

“What’re you doing, Y/n?” Lucius demands as your hand travels up the length of his arm.

You give his biceps a squeeze and chuckle in response. He has such a strong body and he’s adorned it in such a delicious feeling fabric. One you can’t seem to keep your hands off of and want to crawl into.

The truth is that you don’t know what you’re doing and with every blink of your weary eyes, you see Draco’s iced silver ones in waves. You see glimpses of blonde hair in your grasp, lush, silky and soft. You imagined it countless times in the past, pale white hips rutting against your backside while you both watch in the silver ornate mirror that hangs over his dresser just beside his bed. You’d wished it happened as it had in the privacy of your dreams and daydreams.

You see flashes of books in Lucius’ study. The two of you would sneak inside while his father and mother were out and the elves were busy. You’d make out there near the fireplace. Other times, you’d be propped up on the desk with Draco’s erection pressed hard against the delicate folds of your clothed, aching sex.

You lean back on the familiar desk, wet ass gliding against the smooth mahogany. Lucius led you here into the study, which means you’ve truly fucked up.

The study is just the way you remember it. The backside is filled from floor to ceiling with books and skulls and trinkets, all meaning something to Lucius, or simply nothing at all. Lucius’ desk remains in the center, facing the fireplace, and placed firmly on a fancy rug with a huge velvet chair behind it. He has other knickknacks here and there, but the study remains fairly simple and serves its purpose.

You turn to your right and see a family photo nestled in a silver gilded frame. Draco stands in the middle, posed with his chin up, his parent’s stand as far away as they possibly can with their hands resting on either side of his shoulders. No one smiled, save for the small tug at the corners of Narcissa’s lips, though it didn’t meet her dim eyes.

When you’d snuck down here with Draco, he’d turn it face down on the desk before delving into you. It sits upright now, yet piles of marked scrolls threaten to bury it. A box of limited edition quill inks sit in a box beside them and a semi-wet quill lies on an open scroll just beside you. You come to the conclusion that he must have been working when he sensed someone’s presence, your presence, outside.

Lucky for him.

It’s so late that you begin to wonder where Narcissa might be, where Draco might be since you’d come for him. Asleep upstairs maybe. Or perhaps somewhere else entirely. As for Narcissa, you’d noted her absence shortly after graduation and she only seemed to grow more distant now that you and Draco are of proper age. Draco himself had always remained distant and found solitude in being alone when you weren’t around to keep him company. Just like his mother, his interest in his father had diminished over the years while yours had grown.

Lucius huffs and the springs in the chair squeak lightly underneath his weight. The sound pulls you away from your memories and the weight of your own thoughts settle in the center of your core with a wave of nostalgia. The chair had made the same noise in all those times Draco plopped down there and it knocks you back to a time many years ago.

Draco’s mother had left with her sister, Bellatrix, and you both knew his father would be out later. Narcissa had left you both to the mercy of the house elves, who treated you with much more respect than you cared for.

When silence had fallen over the manor, Draco had waltzed down the hallway and placed a knock on your door. You’d been half asleep in the room given to you since the moment you’d decided this home suited you more than your own. The door had squeaked open, sending golden light cascading over the bright yellow walls they’d let you paint.

You’d hissed at Draco for interrupting your sleep, but somehow he’d managed to coax you out of bed and down into his father’s study. You remember the taste of his lips, so sweet and delicate against yours after the door had been closed. Somehow that had led to him splaying your legs wide and planting your feet firmly on the sturdy wooden surface of his father’s desk.

All you remember afterwards is the fire roaring to life and warming your entire being as Draco pumped you hard with his skilled fingers for the very first time.

You bite into your lip and let out a soft moan as your brain caresses and savors every inch of that memory.

“Y/n!” Lucius demands.

“Lucius,” you mewl softly in a taunting, singsong tone that sends his eyes rolling.

He groans as you kick your muddy heels off and clicks his tongue in disgust when they clatter on his rug.

He curses himself for not remembering to make you take them off at the door. Though, he reminds himself that you don’t usually show up in such a pathetic state where your manners are long forgotten. He also reminds himself that he’s not usually in a position underneath your taunting gaze. You sit there like a queen on her throne. Unfortunately for him, the throne just so happens to be his desk.

Lucius fights the urge to take control of the situation, though his body aches for him to do so. He wants you off his desk, off your ass, sobered up, and sinking down his cock. He caresses his chin and bites into his bottom lip before flinching away from that final realization, away from you and the way your nipples grow hard against the thin fabric of that skimpy dress you’d slipped on hours ago to meet with friends in. Had he been here, he wouldn’t have let you step a foot outside in such scandalous attire. He curses your father for being so absentminded and so uninvolved in your life.

Despite that truth, Lucius had watched you bloom into a brilliant witch and beautiful woman. Over the years, he’d listened to Narcissa’s comments on the way your body had practically become a woman’s overnight—large breasts and curves that had been flaunted too well in your robes and skirts. Lucius forked over more money for your new robes and uniform without hesitation. He couldn’t stand the idea of boys at Hogwarts gawking at you, targeting you with their useless, impure minds. And selfishly, he’d always seen you more fit for a Malfoy, even though you went against everything they stood for.

You have half-blood friends, you were sorted into a house other than Slytherin, you were curious about muggles. Lucius had pushed all those details to the back of his mind when he took you in. You were strong, opinionated even when he disagreed with you, and best of all, you never backed down from a challenge. You weren’t weak and he appreciated that quality about you.

Now, you appear stronger than ever, though your judgement is obviously skewed.

“I’m disappointed in you,” he begins. He knows he has to scold you like a child, but he also knows you’ll do it again if he doesn’t. He hates that he has to be the one to do it. “I think y—“

“Deserve to be punished, don’t I?” You whimper and pick at your nails with a firm pout of your pink lips.

Lucius rolls his eyes and ignores the ache daring to tear him apart at the seam if he allows you to open your mouth again. He comes off the chair and turns to face the endlessly shelving of books. He crosses his arms and stares mindlessly at the first row that meets his eyes, far away from you.

Sickness, much like bile, collects at the base of his throat and he swallows it down. He knows he cannot touch you, it’d be crossing the line on so many levels. Worst, it’d go against his morals. He’s married. His son is one of your better best friends. He’s friends with your useless excuse of a father, he’s looked your mother in the eyes over countless meetings decades ago where he vowed to take care of you to the best of his ability before he took you in for good. Yet, every civilized thought escapes his mind when he hears your breathing hitch behind him. A soft shuffling follows and he swallows dryly. He knows the sound all too well—wet clothes being removed, peeling away from damp skin, and plopping against the floor.

You’re a sopping mess in the neatness of his study. His rug will suffer, but so will he.

He clenches his teeth and sneers as be whips his wand out and sends a charm towards his study door. It closes and locks quietly, but the near silent sound echoes loudly in his eardrums.

You let out a soft whimper as you bristle against the cool rush of the closing door. You knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. The men of this manor never could, and with the close of his door, you’d just become Lucius Malfoy’s seductress.

You roll your head back and stare at the way the ceiling curves to a point above the desk. You’ve stared at it many times when Draco pleased you while he remained completely oblivious to your true desires. Thoughts of Lucius had plagued your mind while Draco’s fingers and mouth did all the work. His father’s name had clung to the edge of your tongue while you forced Draco’s out with careful skill. You knew it was wrong, but it’d almost become a game during those long nights. You’d always wondered if you’d slip up and what Draco would do if you did.

You splay your thighs wide and run your feet along the arms of the emerald green chair. With heavy eyes, you watch the fabric’s color distort slightly from light emerald to a darker shade of the same color with each stroke of your flesh. While you do this, you take notice that Lucius hasn’t turned around since he’s left the chair. Denying his own primal needs as a male, you’re sure. You’d just waltzed, well, stumbled right in and threatened all order, seized all his control with minimal effort, and he hates it. You know he does. Yet, your own need for warmth begins to overtake your own motives and you shiver against the cool air circulating in the darkened room.

“C-could you start up a fire?” You blurt through clenched teeth as you hug into your shivering body.

Lucius’ head snaps back as if he’s been in a trance the entire time. His senses slowly return and he follows the needy plead of your voice. He regrets it the very moment your nude body comes into view. Your lacy black underwear are all that remain of the clothes you’d stripped off and Lucius is suffering indeed.

Hardened grey eyes glaze over the length of your being. He takes in the way your dark hair is now chopped at your shoulders, the length of your short, delicate limbs, the perfect curvature of your breasts and hips. It’s all more proportional and more appealing than he cares to admit.

His eyes snap away from your shivering body and he forces himself to focus on the dead fireplace alongside the wall. The door is sealed shut behind you, beyond you. He should open it, the door. He should summon Draco or call for an elf to help you, cloth you. If you’re this comfortable around him, daring really, then he has no doubt that his son has seen you just the same and would have no qualms about helping.

Cunning as you are, you should have been sorted into during your school years. A true shame that the Slytherin house missed out on such brilliance due to a wrinkly old hat and a fool of a headmaster.

He thinks to himself.

Lucius kindles the firewood in the fireplace with a sharp snap of his fingers and watches the fire spark. As the wood crackles, the flame catches another piece and begins dancing to life as he attempts to choose his next words as carefully as he can.

“How long?”

You cannot admit that your liking for Lucius had begun at the ripe age of fifteen. You were young, impressionable, and Lucius had shown you how real men care for their families. While Draco complained about his father, you saw a hardworking man who needed to put food on the table for his family, a provider. You seen him as the man who’d step in when your real father chose not, and you admired that too.

You swallow and keep your eyes on your fingertips which are coming more and more into focus with each pick of your nails.

“It’s been awhile,” is all you manage.

Lucius continues staring into the fire, still upset with himself for closing the door while trying to work out how long a while consists of. His heart races with both fear and excitement, but he isn’t sure which one will win this battle.

After a while, Lucius brings a blanket over from the corner of the room. He dusts it off and wraps it around your warming body. He doesn’t dare look you over again. He can’t. Not when your eyes watch his every move, from his pacing to the way he strokes his chin across the room when he’s deep in thought. He hadn’t planned for you to show up like this and hadn’t planned for you to strip everything off and be so confidently naked in front of him.

He stares at another book on the shelf, hardly registering the title as he slips a delicate stripe down the spine. He needs something else to focus on, but he isn’t prepared for the sound that comes out of you next. A sound that ripples through his very being and has him on edge like a wild beast.

The fingertips of your right hand run down the plain of your belly, relishing the feeling of your warming body before slipping underneath the hem of your lace. The blanket shifts off your shoulders as you spread your legs wide and allow your fingertips to trickle just below the dampened folds. The thought of Lucius, as always, overtakes your senses, and you graze right between the folds with a low moan. You tease your arousal before bringing it back up to the little protrusion between your lips. You give your clitoris a generous rub and you melt right where you sit.

Lucius’ head whips in your direction and all color leaves his face. His body goes still like a statue.

“You… Y—“

His name finally slips off your tongue and it tastes absolutely delicious. You’re exhausted with holding back, holding it in. You’d spent years doing so and you weren’t going to give up this opportunity that’s presented itself. It was supposed to be Draco that let you in, that came to your rescue as always, but when the long, white-haired Malfoy, the patriarch of this manor opened that door, you knew the stars had aligned that very moment.

“I command you to stop,” Lucius orders, but you shake your head in protest and circle harder.

Lucius feels as if he’s the one that’s been drinking. The way your moans and soft pants make his head spin is intoxicating. He can’t help the way his cock twitches underneath his pajama pants. He’s glad the robe does the job of covering the sudden reaction. He doesn’t want you to have the satisfaction of knowing what you do to him.

He bites into his lip once more and shuts his eyes. No, he reopens them because the memory of you naked is now engrained behind his eyes and also right in front of him. You’re everywhere he looks, your moans are all he can hear. He cannot escape you. Perhaps if he just opened the damned door. But he’s sealed it shut with a charm not even his own son could get through on the other side. It sealed off all sound and no one would come bothering the two of you. He knows this, even with the sickness rising in his throat again.

Lucius’ eyes cower towards you, watching the way your hips rock softly against your circling fingers. You hadn’t slipped inside yourself, just gathered your arousal enough to keep the rubbing lubricated. His cock aches and he cannot remember the last time he had sex, let alone the last time a female had grazed him with such vulgar imagery. He turns way from you and wishes for the pulsing in his veins to stop. He wishes away the heat centering between his legs, but it remains. Your panting grows louder and he fears he will erupt right where he stands. So, what would be the harm if he were standing in front of you instead? What would be the harm if he simply gave in? Stopped fighting and resisting?

He lets out a shaky breath and faces you. You watch determination settle in his eyes and you let out a squeaky moan. Lucius makes his way towards the desk and kicks the chair to the right side. When he finally faces you, his face goes pale. He flinches at the sight of you spread open and so beautifully aroused. He’d missed the fact that you’d now removed the lace, which he’d hardly call underwear as they’d probably hid nothing from the skimpy look of them on his rug. But now, your sex is glistening at the folds, reddened and swollen with heat, and he almost collapses.

“Help me, Lucius,” you hum and trace your wet fingers upwards in a smooth motion.

His grey eyes follow the wet trail up to your navel, over the soft skin of your belly, over your sternum, and now the way you lazily circle around each of your nipples. His chest tightens, but he can no longer force himself to look away. This entire situation is scandalous and if he were to take this risk, how would anyone other than the two of you know? He knows you brilliant enough to keep your mouth shut about something like this. It would ruin you just as much as himself if word got around.

Lucius whips his robe open and your eyes go wide in amusement. Creamy white skin with dark hairs covering the expanse of his chest and navel before leading a trail underneath the hem of his velvet pajama pants. You cock your head and smile weakly at the protrusion in the center. He’d been hiding it, the way you turn him on, and a deep satisfaction steeps in your belly.

You place your palm on your sex. Excited by the sight of him hardened for you, you feel the need to release yourself; however, Lucius quickly throws a wrench in those plans. He takes your sopping fingers and tosses them away from your mound, and you watch as he kneels on the floor in front of you and pushes your legs further apart.

You can’t hide the amazement in your eyes as he pulls you to the very edge of the desk.

Lucius Malfoy kneeling.

Your mouth waters. So does his.

His eyes devour the glistening between your thighs and his heartbeat quickens with each passing breath. If he does this, there’s no going back. If he doesn’t do this, you’ll both be completely unsatisfied and the awkwardness would linger in the air much longer than the realization of your actions if he were to give in. With your eyes plastered on him, he can’t stop himself from licking his lips. Your body is so intriguing, so divine, and he wants to explore every inch. With quivering lips and unsure thoughts, Lucius’ breath shutters against your warmth before licking a stripe up the wet folds of your cunt. Your head falls back and a rumbling moan escapes your throat. You know this will be so much better than anything you’ve ever experienced in this room.

Your fingers caress his scalp and gingerly gather this long platinum hair into your fists. Your hips buck forward to meet each flip of his tongue. You feel hot all over. Your head, your cheeks, your throat, chest and belly, your thighs and ass pressed hard against the wood, and your very core. Lucius suckles at your clit and it almost sends you overboard. You attempt to pull him away, but he clamps hard enough to earn a yelp before settling back. He lets out a rough chuckle and toys his thumb over the reddened protrusion before slipping down and pressing through your entrance.

You fall back on your elbows and shut your eyes to the ceiling.

“Lucius…”

Remarkable. Is all that come to mind at the way your cunt squeezes around his thumb. With the sound of your ravenous moans in response to this little action, he can hardly imagine what you’d sound like with his cock buried inside of you.

“Fuck me,” you snarl. “Please fuck me, Lucius.”

He knows he can’t ignore your commands any longer. He would be mad if he did. He stands to attention, slipping right out of his garments as he does. His cock pulses as he sucks your juices off his thumb, then uses the same hand to stroke his own ache. He sighs in relief and you watch him align himself. He wastes no time thrusting through your folds and you howl in pain and pleasure.

Perhaps you should have warned him of the truth, but it’s much too late. His cock is tight inside of you, running along the fresh, untouched walls with so much precision. Your breasts ache and your chests burns. Your entrance burns, but you don’t care. You’ve needed this for years, craved it, and now you’ll relish every inch of him.

Something flickers in his eyes when they find yours, shame and lust reflect in them. He can’t believe he’s inside of you, can’t believe he gave in so easily. He hadn’t bothered asking of your prior experience. Truthfully, he didn’t want to know how many men had buried themselves inside this glorious, tight hole of yours. The ridges of your walls had swallowed him whole and he didn’t need to think of any competition because he was already determined to be your best.

Lucius watches you like a hawk, catching the way your hand finds your curls and massages into your scalp. He watches the way your breasts jiggle with each movement of your body against his. He closes his eyes, hoping it’s just a dream. When he opens them again and you’re still there like the delectable woman he now knows you to be.

It’s not long before your chest begins to tighten and the squeeze in your core contracts softly. You know this feeling all too well, Draco had taught you all you knew about the feelings of an orgasm, and you won’t last much longer. Not with Lucius hitting all the right spots and his rutting cock buried so deep inside your very core. Your head spins and the point on the ceiling distorts as you falter back onto your elbows. You feel as if you’re floating and he feels like perfection.

Lucius tries to avoid your eyes, your low and seductive features that have his mind reeling and tethering on the edge of reality. He knows he shouldn’t have given in and that he’ll pay for it every time he sees you going forward. He’ll think about it when his wife returns home, whenever she returns home. He’ll think about it when he sees his son and he’ll scowl at idea that he may have had you in this very position before but never had the balls to go any further. Or maybe he has and Lucius should’ve triple-guessed before delving balls deep into your tight little cunt.

He snarls at the thought and at the sight of your arousal glistening under the golden light along his full length with every pull of his hips. He’s growing sloppier in his thrusts, failing miserably in keeping his groans and grunts at bay as he wished. He can’t have you thinking he’s enjoying himself or that he will be allowing this to happen again. He can’t allow you to bring out this side of him again, messy and bending at your will. Yet, if this will be the last time, he plans to make it memorable for the both of you.

Lucius glides his hand over the plain of your stomach and watches the way your breasts bounce to the rhythm of his thrusting. He’d give anything to be properly buried there, right in the softness of your skin, but he knows this is wrong. But how can it be wrong when his name slipping off your lips sounds as if an angel is calling out for him?

He sneers and squeezes his eyes shut. He tries to imagine a time when his wife loved him enough for this, not from a place of dedication or duty, but just a desperate need to be touched by him. A need for hot, raging, glorious sex. And he almost goes limp at the thought of her.

He opens his eyes and yours are right there, hungry and focused solely on him. Whatever alcohol had dared to poison your liver, dared to overtake your senses has vanished very quickly. Though, he knows you’ve been aware from the moment you’d grasped his robe in the entryway. He knows from the way something like golden fire sparkled in your eyes in all the times you’ve glanced at him when no one was watching over the years.

Something flutters deep in Lucius’ core and he pants loudly at that realization. It drives himself to take a fistful of your hair without thinking it over, and he almost melts when you flash a bright smile that sends him swooning.

Fuck me, Lucius.

The line rings like an echo in his mind.

“Lucius… Kiss me.”

Lucius’ eyes blaze and he rushes his mouth against your plump pink lips on command. Your tongue sweeps over his and his eyes grow wide as yours flutter to a close. The bitterness of whisky and the sweetness of butterscotch that lingers after too many Butterbeers is heavy on your tongue, but you taste just as sweet against him like strawberries underneath. He imagines you downing goblets, tossing them back like a champ. Perhaps the sway of your hips if music were playing throughout the tavern. He knew you to be confident in that way, somehow always socially adept and always the center of attention, even though you denied it.

You sweep your arms around his neck and pull him closer, and just as his thrusts begin to falter, you bring your heels up to his muscled cheeks and drive him in further. A shakily groan floods into the cavern of your mouth and his eyes glow with something you’ve never seen before. Desire? Lust? You don’t know. All you know is that you don’t want him stopping until your orgasm is pulsing all around his long, slender length. You want to feel his warm seed coating your inner thighs and stomach. And as much as you wish to feel him spilling inside of you, his milky semen dripping out of you and growing sticky between your thighs as the night grows to day, you know you can’t allow that. Not now.

With your lips hot against his, Lucius can hardly contain himself. His grip in your curls tighten as he holds your lips to his, swallowing each of your pressing moans whole. He gives you the satisfaction of guiding him deeper until he’s had enough. When he does, he withdraws entirely.

He could explode from the way you appear in front of him, eyes blown, pussy swollen and glimmering at the folds, breasts supple and nipples harder than his cock. Your arousal is all over his length and groin and he can’t take it easy anymore. He grasps your arm and yanks you off the desk. You yelp as he twists you around in one quick motion and ropes one of your knees in his hands to press up against the desk.

A chill runs down your spine and your nipples ache against the coolness of the wood. They’re begging to be relieved, but neither of you can be bothered to do so when the pleasure of Lucius’ cock being buried inside you is much more vital.

He knows the fireplace had done nothing to warm the desk and he relished the sight of you shivering against the chill. He watches the way goosebumps prickle over your skin and the way your ass has become discolored from being pressed against his desk for so long. He gives it a firm smack, which earns yet another whimper from your lips.

He smirks while collecting himself and driving back into you.

With a deafening grunt, he takes your hair back into his fist and places the other on your hip. His own plow against your ass and you whine at the new depths of his cock.

Your cheeks burn at the thought of how wet you are in front of him, for him. Unbelievably pathetic.

Knowing this will end soon feels like absolutely torture and Lucius struggles with that reality with each contraction of your walls. His thrusts remain erratic, but he stopped caring. His hand loosens in your hair and squeezes harder against your hip when your back arches. He catches you taking glimpses of him over your shoulder and chuckles at your desperation. Though, his is just as bad. He’s never known how desperately he needed this from you.

“Perhaps I should’ve left you on your ass.”

“Maybe,” you pant nonchalantly. “At least I would’ve been granted the pleasure of seeing your face when you release.”

He tugs you closer and uses the chair to prop his own leg up before dropping his hand from your hair entirely and lowering it to your jawline. He grasps it hard and you groan against the touch.

“You want to see my face when I release?” He laughs coldly. “Well, here I am.”

He stares into your lidded eyes and smirks at how fucked out and beautiful you look taking his cock.

“You’re good at this, aren’t you?”

It’s a backhanded compliment, but he lets you let it out an exasperated giggle. It rumbles in your throat underneath his hand and drives him mad.

“How many cocks have you taken?”

You blink blankly, surprised by the question, the forwardness. You’re prepared to force out an answer, but his hand tightens around the base of your throat, squeezes just enough to cut off air.

“The truth,” he adds. “Only the truth.”

He loosens his grip a smidge and you gasp the words, “Only yours.”

Lucius’ eyes go grim and he squeezes your throat again. Your cheeks burn hot in embarrassment.

“The truth, Y/n!”

Your core aches at the sound of your name rolling off his tongue and you shiver against him.

“Just yours, Lucius.”

His heartbeat quickens and he draws your lips back to his, forcing himself deeper with the twist. You squirm under the pressure and grasp the edge of the desk for stability as your back arches with each thrust of his hips and his breathing draws shakily against your mouth.

“Y/n,” he grunts. “I… You—your first?”

His eyebrows twitch and his body shivers. A low hum leaves your mouth, completely in tune with the way his body quivers against yours. You focus on the way your own heart begins to race in your chest, a deep thrumming that has you gasping with the tightening inside your core. Your core burns as you hold back your orgasm. You know he’s earned it, but he isn’t there just yet.

Lucius squeezes tighter and you rock your hips back to meet his. His eyes go wide, then roll with a hiss slipping from him mouth simultaneously.

“Shit!”

“Lucius…”

He sneers and slips behind you again, completely withdrawing from your view. He can’t look you in the eyes right now or his load will be buried so deep inside of you that he’ll have a new set of problems on his plate. His wife, his son. He already feels that he isn’t a good enough husband or father. His job at the Ministry is demanding, and you… Merlin, you are going to be the absolute end of him.

He ruts his hips forward in long, hard motions until the only noises filling the study are the sounds of your ass clapping against his groin, the sloppiness of your arousal sticking to his shaft, and your moans drowning out his own. He thrusts and thrusts and thrusts, sinking you down to his balls with each sweep. And your cries…

“Fuck,” he whimpers and shakes at the knees.

He plants both hands on your hips and stares at anything else but your body leaned over his desk, obeying his every command, and rewarding him with its own sweetness.

“Cum for me,” he growls lowly.

Your moans are so loud that you can barely hear the order. You’ve been teetering on the edge for minutes now, barely able to hold your own release back any longer.

“Cum for me now,” he demands. “Or I.. I’ll….”

You rock your hips and Lucius lets out a deafening groan that sends you overboard. Your walls tense around him and your body flushes hot as you milk him dry. He sputters and grasps your ass, your hips, your waist, then with agonizing discipline, he slips out of your squelching warmth and explodes all over you with a roar. Warmth explodes all over your backside, your thighs, your ass, and you collapse on your arms against the desk. Your legs shake terribly and you aren’t sure you’ll be able to stand much longer.

Lucius’s groans stifle into breathy pants and the familiar squeaking of chair behind you fills your ears as he pulls you down into his lap. Your legs almost give out with the action and his eyes are full of nothing but hot rage. He splays your legs apart and clamps his hand over your cunt, feeling the stickiness of your own orgasm between your thighs. He watches you intently, studies you and the way your body shutters softly with his touch. Then, his own need for control returns, washes over him in a powerful wave.

He swirls his fingers just as he’d watched you do, just the way you like it. Your head snaps back, nipples peaking once more and your moan filling his ears with that sweet melody he’ll never forget. He hates how pretty you look when you cry, but he loves how responsive your body is to his every touch.

“Lucius… please…” you pant softly, eyes already rolling.

“I don’t recall saying we were done,” he muses.

His fingers run between your trembling folds and you jerk forward with a breathy howl.

You catch sight of his vile smile as you tremble in overstimulating pleasure and you bite back a demanding moan knowing this is now his own form of torture.

Lucius’ brows raise as he watches you struggle to regain your own control. Just when you think you have it, he lets out a soft sigh. Something along the lines of, “Happy Christmas,” fills your ears in a deep groan just before he plunges his fingers into your needy cunt and takes you all over again, completely reminding you who is always, truly in control.

Please be sure to check out my other latest fanfics:

⚡︎ Keep Me (In the Shadows) (m.) - Draco Malfoy x reader

⚡︎ Lost Love (m.) - Lucien Vanserra x Rhysand x reader

⚡︎ Rain Does Not Fall on One Roof Alone (m.) - Ominis Gaunt x Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ Perfect Storm (m.) - Ominis Gaunt x reader

⚡︎ Untitled (m.) - Sebastian Sallow x Ominis Gaunt x reader

⚡︎ Coffee (Love You a Latte) - Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ Golden - Sebastian Sallow x reader

~ Navi: masterlist (all fandoms)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, but please don’t copy! Written purely for fun :) Please only repost to other socials w/my permission and credit! Reblogging w/credit is fine. Thank you! ♡

December 2024

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ms-snape · 3 months ago

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Hii, I‘d love to request an younger Severus Story, where he gets set up on a blind date by Lucius and Narcissa to get his mind off of Lily

The date turns out to be one of Narcissas friends who he sits besides in one of his classes, who he always has found very interesting and pretty

Title: Blind Date

Warning: None

Words Count: 2800+

Masterlist

---

Severus Snape was not one to believe in the whimsicalities of fate. But then, there were days when he couldn't help but wonder if life had a funny way of playing with him. He had always considered himself a man of logic, someone who would not be swayed by frivolous emotions. And yet, there he was, daydreaming about Lily Evans in the middle of a rather important Potions lesson, staring out the window instead of focusing on the bubbling cauldron in front of him.

Lily, with her bright red hair and those emerald eyes that sparkled with warmth and kindness, had been his obsession since they first met at the age of nine. He was certain she'd never look at him the way he looked at her—how could she? He was just Severus Snape, the shy, awkward, slightly odd boy with a dark reputation, while she was the shining star, surrounded by friends who adored her.

But there was someone else in his Potions class who always caught his eye, though he tried to ignore it. Y/N. She wasn’t like Lily—no, Y/N had a quiet elegance about her, with a mysterious air that Severus found fascinating. Her long hair, dark as a raven’s wing, framed her face perfectly, and she always seemed lost in thought, as if she were pondering something far more important than whatever they were learning. She was pretty, yes, but she was also clever, independent, and a touch distant—qualities that Severus admired but also didn’t know how to approach.

He had never spoken to her, never had the courage to cross that boundary. Instead, he observed her from the corner of his eye, day after day. She was a Slytherin, though not in the same social circle as him but still a close friend to Narcissa Black. She was more quiet, more reserved, more… unlike the rest of the Slytherins who crowded the common room, loudly boasting about their latest exploits or schemes.

But then there was Lily, always at the forefront of his mind. Always. And that was the problem. Severus could never seem to break free of his obsession with her, and no matter how much he tried, it felt as though his heart would always belong to Lily Evans.

At least, until one afternoon, when the weight of his unrequited love for Lily was finally too much for some of his friends to bear.

"Severus," Lucius Malfoy said, his voice smooth as ever, leaning against the doorframe of their shared Potions classroom, "you've got to stop this nonsense with Evans."

Severus, who had been staring at the delicate glass vials lined up on the desk before him, stiffened at the sound of his name. Lucius always seemed to know when he was lost in his thoughts. Narcissa, standing beside him, was looking at Severus with an almost exasperated expression.

"She's never going to notice you, Severus," Narcissa added, her voice cool but tinged with concern. "We need to do something about it. You're wasting away."

Severus opened his mouth to protest, but Lucius cut him off.

"Don't bother," Lucius said with a sly grin. "We’ve already come up with a solution."

Before Severus could ask what that solution was, Narcissa flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder and smiled slyly.

"We’ve set you up on a date."

"A date?" Severus blinked, incredulous. "With who?"

Narcissa’s smile widened. "With one of my friends. I think you'll find her… quite interesting."

Severus didn’t have time to argue. Lucius was already pulling out a small piece of parchment with details scribbled hastily on it.

"It’s at Madam Pudifoot's Tea Shop," Lucius said. "Tomorrow. Seven o’clock. Don’t worry, we’ve arranged everything."

Severus’ stomach tightened in a mixture of anxiety and confusion. He didn’t want this. He didn’t need it. But as Narcissa’s gaze bore into him, he realized that he had little choice in the matter.

The next day, Severus found himself pacing outside the entrance to Madam Pudifoot’s, the quaint and overly pink tea shop that had somehow become popular among Hogwarts students, despite its tendency to give him a headache just by looking at it. He felt utterly out of place, his black robes stark against the pastel-colored walls and frilly tablecloths.

When he walked in, a bell tinkled above the door, and the smell of lavender tea and scones wafted through the air. Severus couldn’t help but feel a little ridiculous as he stood in the doorway, searching for the person he was supposed to meet. He half-hoped to see Lily waiting for him, but of course, that was impossible. This was a blind date, arranged by Narcissa, and he had no idea who he was supposed to be meeting.

Then, as if from nowhere, a soft, melodic voice caught his attention.

"Severus? Are you… Severus Snape?"

He turned, and there she was. Y/N.

Her long dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her green dress seemed to shimmer in the soft lighting of the shop. Her smile was warm, but there was a nervous edge to it, just like the way he was feeling.

"Y/N?" he asked, almost too quietly. "What are you doing here?"

She tilted her head, her lips curling into a small, amused grin. "It seems that Narcissa thought it would be fun to set us up." She raised an eyebrow. "I’m assuming you're as surprised as I am."

Severus felt his heart skip a beat. He hadn’t been expecting this. He had been bracing himself for an awkward encounter with someone else entirely, but here was Y/N—the very person he had admired from afar, sitting across from him at a small table, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"I—" Severus stopped himself, unsure of what to say. "I didn’t know it was you."

"Neither did I," she admitted with a soft laugh. "But I suppose we’re here now, so we might as well enjoy it."

They sat in a slightly awkward silence for a moment before the waitress arrived, offering them menus. Severus found himself staring at the menu, but he wasn’t really seeing it. His mind was spinning. Y/N was here. On a date. With him. Not Lily. Y/N.

"So," Y/N said after a moment, breaking the silence, "what have you been up to, Severus? I don’t think we’ve ever really had a proper conversation before."

It was true. They hadn’t. And Severus found himself oddly relieved. This was a blank slate, a chance to get to know her, not as the distant girl in his Potions class, but as someone who might actually become… more.

"I—well, I've been working on my Potions," Severus said, then immediately regretted it. "You know, trying to perfect a few of them."

Y/N smiled, a knowing look in her eyes. "I’ve always thought you were one of the best in Potions," she said, and Severus felt a heat rise in his cheeks. "But you’re also a bit of a mystery, Severus. Why is that?"

His heart pounded a little faster at the question. It was so open, so direct. There was something in her eyes—an understanding, maybe? Or a curiosity?

"I suppose… I’m not very good at opening up to people," Severus confessed, his voice quieter now. "I’ve never really been one for… socializing."

Y/N nodded, her expression thoughtful. "I understand. I’m not exactly the most social person either." She paused. "But sometimes it’s nice to have someone to talk to, don’t you think?"

Severus found himself nodding, but he was still unsure. Was this really happening? Was he really sitting here, with Y/N? It felt almost surreal.

The evening passed quickly, and to Severus’ surprise, he found himself genuinely enjoying the conversation. They talked about everything and nothing—Potions, of course, but also books, the latest gossip at Hogwarts, and their shared experiences as Slytherins in a school that often seemed to push them to the sidelines. By the time they finished their tea and dessert, Severus realized something he hadn’t expected: he was no longer thinking about Lily.

Instead, he was thinking about Y/N.

They walked out of the tea shop together, and Severus felt a sense of peace he hadn’t known in a long time. The night air was cool against his skin, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it felt oddly comforting.

"I… I’m glad Narcissa set this up," Severus said quietly, not looking at her but feeling her presence next to him, comforting and warm.

"Me too," Y/N agreed. "I think we make a good pair."

Severus couldn’t help but smile. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but he liked it.

Maybe, just maybe, fate had a hand in this after all.

Weeks had passed since that fateful evening at Madam Pudifoot’s. Severus found himself thinking about Y/N more often than he had ever thought about anything else. Their dates—yes, dates—had become a regular occurrence. After that first meeting, he had found that Y/N was a surprisingly easy person to be around. They’d spent time in quiet corners of the library, discussing their shared love for Potions and the art of brewing the most complicated of brews. They’d visited Hogsmeade together, strolling through the cobbled streets with nothing but the sound of the wind and their quiet laughter accompanying them.

Each date, each conversation, left Severus feeling more at ease. He never expected to enjoy spending time with anyone as much as he enjoyed being with her. For the first time in what felt like forever, he found himself genuinely looking forward to seeing someone—not just because she was a welcome distraction, but because she was someone who understood him in a way that few people ever had.

Y/N, for her part, seemed equally comfortable with him. The distance he’d once put between them, the awkwardness, had slowly vanished as the weeks passed. Her wit and intelligence matched his own, and they both found joy in the most mundane of activities, simply because they were in each other’s company.

It wasn’t just that she was pretty—though she was undeniably that—it was her quiet, thoughtful nature, the way she could sit with him for hours in companionable silence, or the way she would challenge him in discussions about magic, Potions, and life itself.

Severus had never believed in love at first sight. But he was beginning to wonder if there was something more than coincidence behind the way things were unfolding.

One afternoon, as Severus sat in the Slytherin common room, his mind lost in thoughts of Y/N, he was interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Severus."

He looked up to see Lucius Malfoy standing there, a curious expression on his face. Narcissa was just behind him, her eyes gleaming with the same sort of interest that Severus had come to recognize in them when they were scheming.

"Lucius," Severus said, his voice a little guarded. He wasn’t exactly keen on being interrogated about his personal life, but given his friends' penchant for prying, he suspected that was exactly what was about to happen.

Narcissa took a seat next to him, her tone casual, but with a knowing edge. "We’ve been noticing something, Severus," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly in amusement. "You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Y/N lately."

Severus stiffened slightly, though he did his best to hide it. "I… I suppose we’ve gotten along well. What of it?"

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "I’m asking because it seems that you’ve… become rather fond of her." He let the words hang in the air, almost as if testing the waters.

Severus felt a knot form in his stomach. He didn’t want to admit it—not to Lucius, not to Narcissa—but it was true. He had become fond of Y/N. More than fond, if he was being honest with himself. His feelings for her had only grown stronger with each passing day. She was no longer just the girl he’d noticed from afar in Potions class—she was someone he genuinely cared about.

He opened his mouth, then closed it, unsure of how to respond.

Lucius, ever the opportunist, pressed further. "So, Severus, tell me. Is it serious between you two?"

Narcissa leaned in slightly, her expression softening as she spoke. "You’ve always been rather reserved with your emotions, Severus. But if it’s serious, you should be honest with yourself. And with her."

Severus’ heart was pounding in his chest. He hadn’t fully acknowledged it yet, not in the way Narcissa and Lucius seemed to want him to, but the question was inevitable. He had spent weeks with Y/N, sharing laughs and moments of genuine connection. He was feeling something, something deep and real.

"I—" Severus hesitated, his mind racing, "I think it might be."

Lucius grinned, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Well, there you go. I always knew you weren’t as hopeless as you let on."

Narcissa, ever the more calculating of the two, tilted her head thoughtfully. "You should talk to her about it, Severus. Don’t let this opportunity slip away." Her voice was calm, but there was a sincerity there that Severus hadn’t expected.

The next day, Severus found himself walking down to the courtyard where he and Y/N had agreed to meet. His thoughts were a jumbled mess. Lucius’ questions had brought everything into sharp focus: he did care for Y/N. More than care, he wanted to be with her. He hadn’t been sure of it at first—he’d been so consumed by his obsession with Lily, by his doubts and insecurities. But with Y/N, it felt different. She made him feel seen, understood in a way no one else had.

As he approached the spot where they had planned to meet, he saw her sitting by the fountain, her back to him, her long hair swaying gently in the breeze. The sight of her heartened him, but also left him feeling a bit anxious. He had no idea how she felt about him. Was she just enjoying their time together? Or had she begun to feel something more?

When she turned and saw him, a smile blossomed on her face, and Severus felt his anxiety melt away, just a little.

"Severus," she greeted, standing and brushing the grass from her robes. "You’re early today."

"I wasn’t sure if you’d be on time," Severus replied, his voice softer than usual. "But I’m glad you’re here."

They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, as they often did, both of them unsure of what to say next. Then, Y/N spoke, her voice quieter than before.

"You’ve been distant lately," she said, her eyes searching his. "I can tell there’s something on your mind."

Severus took a deep breath. This was it. He couldn’t keep hiding behind his doubts. Not anymore.

"I’ve been thinking about us," he said, his voice steady but his heart racing. "And I realized something… I care about you, Y/N. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone."

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, but there was no fear in them, only curiosity and something else. Hope, maybe. Her lips parted slightly, as though she was about to say something, but Severus took a step closer, not wanting to wait any longer.

"I know I’ve been… hesitant," he continued. "But after everything we’ve shared, I can’t deny how I feel. You’re not just a distraction for me. You’re not just some pretty face. You make me feel things I didn’t know I could feel."

For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind between them. Then Y/N stepped forward, closing the distance, her hands reaching for his.

"Severus," she whispered, her voice soft yet clear. "I’ve felt the same way. I didn’t know how to say it, but… I’m glad you did."

And in that moment, as if the entire world had aligned just for them, Severus felt his heart swell with emotion. Slowly, he leaned in, his breath hitching, and pressed his lips gently to hers.

It was tentative at first—neither of them sure how to navigate this new, delicate part of their relationship. But as the seconds passed, it became more natural, more real. The kiss deepened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Severus felt truly alive. All the confusion, the doubt, the years of loneliness—it all melted away in the warmth of Y/N’s kiss.

When they finally pulled apart, Severus kept his forehead resting against hers, his hands still holding hers.

"So," Y/N said softly, her smile shy but sincere, "does this mean we're… official?"

Severus smirked, his usual guarded expression slipping away in the face of her warmth. "I think it does."

And for the first time in years, Severus Snape felt like he had found something worth fighting for. Something more important than anything he had ever known.

The next few weeks passed in a blur of shared moments, laughter, and quiet companionship. Severus had never felt more certain about anything. Y/N was his, and he was hers. And in the quiet of the night, when the world seemed still and he allowed himself a rare moment of peace, Severus couldn’t help but think that perhaps, just perhaps, he had found something even more powerful than magic.

Love.

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