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yasministration · 17 days ago

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summer solstice - mattheo riddle

summary: every year on the spring equinox, pureblooded parents begin plotting their newly adult children's marriage, and on the summer solstice, the engagements are announced. finally 18, you and your friends begin panicking, hoping for bearable fiancés. but those who have the power to turn the court in their favour decide to pull a few strings. wc: 3.7k cw: discussions of arranged marriages, discussions of power imbalances, Tom Riddle is alive but not in the voldemort way - no war au, mentions of r! coming from an important family.

The spring equinox marked a dreadful time of year for purebloods across the globe. Parents engaged with each other to arrange marriages between their children, only newly turned adults. Those who weren’t deemed worthy of marrying anyone faced the shameful consequences from their parents and were encouraged to find a partner for their own. It was a dream. It was also a nightmare. Grateful not to be married so young; horrified that no one had entertained the idea of betrothing their children.

As the earth did its last turn around the sun, you were all brought to your final year of freedom, the cages of marriage awaiting you after graduation. This spring, you and your friends were all wrenched away from the throes of freedom, thrown into the games known as family affairs, each of the sacred 28 fighting to have the purest, most successful bloodline.

It was easy to say that finally at the legal age to get married, you were all beginning to panic.

For years, your friend group had gathered together on the spring equinox, discussing every candidate you thought may be brought together as a result of wealthy parents’ business tactics, discussing who was right for which suitor. Three months of thrilling build-up, watching as heirs of successful families were flirted with by women they’d never spoken to before. Observing closely as daughters of powerful purebloods were approached by potential husbands for clandestine encounters in the corners of the castle.

It was funny to watch — women never had a choice in who they would marry, unlike their male counterparts, so unlike the businessmen, most of them had fun. You and Pansy had caught the discussions in the bathrooms from older students, exchanging details about the men who'd made moves on them. Good kisser, not enough for me to want to marry him though, someone would say.

Then, on the summer solstice, when all the engagements were officially announced, you would sit with your jaws on the floor at the odd pairings these parents had come up with. It was never too surprising once you thought about it – success never wandered too far off. You were grateful for that to a certain degree; at least your family status would ensure you didn’t end up with disappointments – with men you hadn’t met before at galas and countless events.

Now, as the winds around you collided to form masses of tension that followed you across the castle, into the common room, you had no choice but to stress until the announcements were made on the morning of the summer solstice, just over six fortnights away. Blaise kept you company in the empty common room, the tormenting thoughts roaming your disturbed minds gracing you with their strangling presence. Neither of you were ready to be betrothed to anyone you’d only made polite conversation with, turning away from the painful exchange to forget their names on the spot.

“This is utterly ridiculous. I can’t marry anyone but Pansy, I don’t know what I’d do.” Your loud laugh cut Blaise off, and he turned to glare at you furiously, a rage of heartbreak and betrayal gathering in his gut. “What, you think it’s funny? I’m in love with her! She’s your best friend, how could-”

“Blaise. I’m not laughing because you and Pansy are in love. Jesus, she’s my best friend. If I had to watch her get married to anyone else, I’d probably kill someone. I’m laughing because you’re stupid.”

Turning momentarily to stare into the fire, you sighed, the flames dancing in the irises of your eyes. Your voice was quiet, and despite the equality between you and Blaise, the fairness and challenge that had formed your friendship, your words still spoke volumes of where you stood in the social hierarchy.

“Blaise, you’re a man.”

Silence.

“You get a say in things. You could walk up to your mother and tell her you want to make a request to marry Pansy - and done! You guys are engaged!” Blaise’s mouth open and shut at the realisation that you were in fact right. He felt his face go hot at the prospect that he may actually get to marry the love of his life, but his joy was short lived. He was aware of what that meant for you.

“I’m not a man.” You continued, hugging your knees closer to you. “My parents can go talk me up to families and give them the idea that I would be the perfect wife, but that wouldn’t matter. If my name doesn’t strike attention, or my reputation isn’t strong enough, I will not be a candidate for anyone. But if my family is important enough and I’ve lived up to everything my parents have ever said of me, requests for my hand in marriage will be piling up from all sorts of families and I… I don’t know what would be worse, having to marry a man I hate or not being asked for my hand in marriage at all!”

Blaise put a hand on your shoulder, tugging you in closer to him so you could rest on your head on his shoulder. He knew the first option was out of the question; he’d seen the way parents huddled in corners of galas, trying not to point you out as you made conversation with others, laughing where polite, your manners impeccable. And your name? Well, it spoke for itself. But Blaise knew the second option scared you even more, so he opted away from trying to comfort you.

“It’ll be okay. As long as you don’t marry Pucey. Imagine having that last name.”

Over the next couple of weeks, the tensions in the friend group only increased. Even Pansy — who already had an invisible band encircling her ring with Zabini’s name on it — was stressing. What if the deal between their families didn’t work out? But while Theo, Draco and Mattheo let their parents take their marriages into their hands for them, occasionally discussing potential wives, you had to sit down in complete cluelessness, unaware of any details that would tie your future together.

Not a single owl kept you in the loop of your own life.

Boys in your year group whom you’d never spoken to came up and made small talk, and while you prayed none of them would be your future husbands, you smiled at them sweetly and took part in their conversations, placing a gentle hand on their arm, aware of the effect it had on them. But eyes lingered on you as you entertained conversations with these boys, none of which were worthy enough of marrying you.

At least, that’s what it seemed to the man who busied himself by studying you, keeping an eye on how you averted your gaze to your lap every time this same discussion was brought up again. How your throat bobbed slightly when the conversation became too difficult for you to bear, but you forced an unbothered expression on your face.

Mattheo Riddle couldn’t stop analysing you, whether he could help it or not. He just seemed to care too much about his friends. At least, that’s what he told those around him.

Unbeknown to you, one late night in their dorm, Mattheo told Theo, Draco and Blaise “I’m thinking of asking my father to put in a betrothal request to y/n’s parents.” The boys all stopped what they were doing at the confession, a silence overtaking the dark room as three pairs of eyes turned to stare at their friend. “Even if she doesn’t have a romantic interest in me, she’s one of my best friends, and I think we’d be happier married to each other than to random strangers.”

Theo pushed himself off on his bed, adding “Also, you have a massive crush on her.” Mattheo ignored his best friend’s comment, well aware that his repetitive excuses had never convinced Theo, so he averted his attention to his other two dorm mates. “Are you going to tell her, or just do it without saying anything?” Asked Draco, putting his book down on the bed beside him as he squinted his eyes in suspiciously.

“I’d tell her first. Well, ask her. If she doesn’t like the idea, I obviously won’t go along with it.”

“I think it’s a good idea.” Spoke Blaise, fingers twitching next to him to write to Pansy about the conversation. He had to tell her, but Mattheo would hate him if the information got to you from anyone other than him. Mattheo’s stare was desperate, eager, hopeful for Blaise to give him more information. “She was telling me how scared she was to marry someone she doesn’t know well. And that she’s worried that she can’t to anything about it. I think she’d be happy to be engaged to a friend. Someone she trusts.”

Mattheo nodded silently, trying to hide his smile by turning the attention back to Blaise. “So has the arrangement with Pansy been sorted?”

“Yeah. She doesn’t know yet though. I’m going to properly propose to her before the announcements are out. Y/n’s going to help me find a ring.”

Theo groaned in a mix of jealousy and frustration, digging his head into his pillow. “I can’t get married! I’m in my prime!” And the silence that greeted him told him exactly what he needed to know. Everyone agreed. They were all too young, they were all in their prime. None of them wanted to get married.

Well, aside from Blaise.

When Mattheo found you in the common room the next day, your essay was laid out on the table in front of you, left untouched. It was clear to him that you were stressing again, and he felt a pang of hurt in his chest for you. Mattheo stilled by the stairs to the dormitories, legs defying his will to move closer to you. He didn’t know why he was suddenly nervous to do this. Just twenty minutes ago, this had seemed like the most logical explanation. An offer you’d say yes to in a heartbeat. But now? Mattheo wasn’t so sure.

Mattheo Riddle was not one to handle rejection well, even in the guise of a plan to save yourselves from an unwritten prophecy. But Mattheo had made his decision, and he wouldn’t back down from the opportunity.

He made himself known by sitting down next to you on the rug, a dangerous silence only he could muster alerting you of his presence. You glanced at him, smiling softly. “Can I talk to you about something?” Nodding, you dropped your quill onto the blank parchment and closed your bottle of ink. At least now you had an excuse for not getting any work done.

“Are you okay?” Mattheo almost laughed at your question. If anyone should have been asked this question, it was you. “I’m okay, are you?” You gaze followed his arm, watching as he reached out to gently place it on your arm, caressing your soft skin.

“Yeah, considering.” Mattheo distracted himself by looking around, at the friends chattering in corners or even new couples, mingling at their parents’ demand. He glanced over at where the rest of your friend group stood hidden under a staircase whilst sharing a cigarette, pretending not to be staring at you. Well, apart from Pansy, who did so shamelessly.

“Uh, so I was thinking.” He began, and you raised your eyebrows at him with a teasing smile. His hand curled over your shoulder, just resting there, and he sighed, shutting his eyes momentarily to ready himself for rejection.

A quiet call of his name had him clearing his throat, looking back up at you. You reached out to cup his cheek, caressing his face with your thumb. His eyes threatened to close, and he leaned into your touch, trying to push out the thought that this interaction may destroy your friendship forever. “You may not like this idea,” He added, looking deeply into your eyes. “But I was thinking of telling my father I’m interested in marrying you.” With the hand Mattheo had on your shoulder, you were sure that he felt the way your breath hitched if he hadn’t already heard it.

“You know,” He continued, swallowing thickly. “You’re one of my best friends, and I know I’d rather marry you than anyone else. You obviously don’t have mmph-” Mattheo was interrupted by the breath being knocked out of his chest as you launched yourself onto him to wrap your arms over his shoulders. His shoulders tensed slightly before sagging in relief, bringing his arms around you to return your hug.

“You’d do that?” You asked weakly, finally finding your voice again. He nodded, hands resting on your lower back, his heart fluttering at you grateful you sounded. “Of course.” His voice suddenly shifted from the caring tone he had as he added a snide remark.

“I’m not doing this for you, you know.”

You dismissed his words as you dug your face into his neck, knowing he was getting defensive at the prospect of being thought of as kind, even to his best friend. Mattheo prayed you didn’t feel the way his pulse raced at the proximity between you, but he didn’t dare break away from the hug just yet, longing to keep you close even for one brief moment.

When you pulled away, staring at Mattheo with a relieved smile, you finally regained bits of your personality as you added teasingly “So what I’m hearing is you’ve just asked me to marry you.” Mattheo scoffed, pushing you away from him by the shoulder. He held himself back from making a comment that it might not happen anyway, but you both knew the truth; Riddles were the most reputable family in wizarding history. Anyone would jump at the opportunity to marry their daughters off to the heir of the Riddle empire. So instead, he smiled, pressing a friendly kiss to your forehead before leaving you alone in the common room.

From across the room, three boys broke away from their smoking session to follow Mattheo up the stairs, leaving Pansy to approach you until she took the spot on the couch behind you. When you finally found the courage to tell a knowing Pansy what had happened, she only responded with “Plus you’ve liked him forever, so...”

“I have not!” But she only rolled her eyes. “Well you better start, because you’re going to be marrying him.”

And start, you did.

Or, if Pansy was correct, you had already started a while ago. Nonetheless, it seemed that ever since you and Mattheo had agreed to marry each other, your dynamic had changed. Following every playful insult, or friendly banter, a silence overtook you, shy glances exchanged between you before one of you made a joke to break the silence. It continued for painful weeks, both of you unaware of the life changing day Tom Riddle approached your father, slipping his son’s name in conversation.

Blissfully blind that behind the scenes, your parents scrambled to get ready for a dinner with the Riddles, putting their best impression to talk you up to the Dark Lord. The most powerful man in the wizarding world. They weren’t aware that Tom Riddle had already made his choice, nor that he would slide an envelope across the table at the end of dinner, a rare smirk playing on his lips as your parents realised he had made his decision long before inviting them for dinner.

“We’ll find out tomorrow,” Started Draco on the night before the spring equinox, “If everything went to plan.”

He stared blankly at Pansy and Blaise, who were cuddled up on a love seat. Pansy already had beautiful ring around her finger, and she hummed mindlessly as she spun it around her finger with a small smile. She didn’t have a single worry in the world. She was already engaged. But for the rest of you?

Nothing was guaranteed.

Draco didn’t know if he would marry Astoria, the friendly, intelligent woman who shared most of his classes — the woman he had caught feelings for. Theo didn’t know if his parents would choose an attractive woman who would get along with you and Pansy, his best female friends. If they hadn't, he would refuse to marry her.

No one knew anything.

Mattheo squeezed your hand in his, and you let your head fall on his shoulder. You didn’t miss the pointed looks your friends shot you, but you ignored them, staring straight into the fire in front of you. The smitten boy beside you didn’t notice their expressions, too busy staring at you with hope in his eyes. He trusted his father, but he couldn’t help the worry that engulfed him.

Mattheo didn’t notice when their discussions and manifestations ended, nor that your friends filtered out of the common room, leaving you alone with him in a deafening silence. “Mattheo?” You finally spoke, many minutes later, causing the curly haired boy to turn his attention to you. His gaze flickered around, and only then did he notice the absence of your friends. That explained the lack of chatter around you.

Mattheo’s face was drowned in concern, worries that the arrangement between you may not work out reflecting on his face clearly. It seemed that his genetic Riddle arrogance was fading away at the possibility of you being stolen away from him to a cruel fate.

“Um, I want you to know that even if we end up betrothed to different people, I’ve-” Mattheo was staring at you so intensely that you had to gulp, taking a long pause between your words. He leaned in closer to hear you better, whispering so quietly in fear of the words that were coming out of your mouth. “I think I like you more than a friend. I think I have for a while.”

Mattheo cupped your face in one large hard, his other brushing stray stands of hair away from your face. He observed you for a long moment, taking his time to put himself together. His heart raced, and Mattheo had to inhale deeply before speaking so his words didn’t come out shaky. “I didn’t just ask you to marry me because you’re my best friend. I asked you because I wanted to marry someone I had romantic feelings for.”

You placed a hand over the one Mattheo had on your face, leaning into his touch as you inhaled deeply, eyes almost watering in relief. “I’m going to kiss you now.” He said confidently, pulling your face closer to his. Your eyes fluttered shut as he pressed his lips against yours, a satisfied sigh falling from your lips. Leaning in closer to Mattheo, you parted your lips, licking at his bottom lip desperately. Mattheo broke apart from the kiss, a smug smile on his face. The Riddle ego had come flooding back. You felt heat rush to your face in humiliation.

“I’ll give you a proper kiss when you’re guaranteed to be my wife.”

And somehow, that made you feel better. As though you were definitely getting married.

You and Mattheo sat in the same position the next morning in the great hall, hands clasped together underneath the table. The hall was tense with a sense of dread radiating off students, most of whom were sat alongside you at the slytherin table. Mattheo bumped his knee against yours as owls flew into the hall, envelopes of all colours representing each pureblooded family with their crest engraved in wax seal at its front.

You stared at your friends as envelopes dropped in front of all of you, an inexplicable sense of dread overwhelming you. Blaise nonchalantly opened his letter, Pansy looking over his shoulder as her cheek rested on her fiancé’s shoulder. At the subtle nod of Blaise’s head as he discarded the letter, you knew everything had gone to plan. But would that be the case for you? For all your friends?

“Are you going to open it?” Whispered Mattheo, looking at you intensely. Nodding, you lifted your shaky hands to open the envelope in front of you, chewing on your lip nervously. Mattheo mimicked your movements, reaching for his. You hadn’t told Pansy about the kiss you and Mattheo shared last night, in hopes not to jinx your chances. In some wild belief that everything would suddenly fall into place.

You glanced towards Mattheo once last night before averting your eyes to the long letter in front of you. Reading through the message from your parents, you let out a heavy sigh at the name revealed on the thick parchment, clasping one hand on your chest as you dropped the thick parchment into the plate in front of you.

‘Welcome to the Riddle family, the letter had been signed at the bottom.

Tom Riddle’

Mattheo’s reaction wasn’t as elaborate as yours, a soft smile tugging his lips upward, as though he already new this would happen. After all, who could say no to Riddles, the most powerful family in the wizarding world? A hand grasped your cheeks, quickly turning your face sharply to face Mattheo as he slammed his lips against yours. You squeaked quietly at the sudden movement, shutting your eyes and relaxing against him as he moved his arm to support your back, the other one resting on your cheek.

He kept his promise, forcing his tongue into your mouth and gliding it against yours in a prominent display of affection that had your cheeks going hot. When he parted from you, your eyes were wide and you were panting softly, eyes immediately drawn to the letter on the table, averting your gaze from any of the students around you who were clearly complaining about the affection at the breakfast table.

The rest of your friends seemed happy enough with their decisions, because the second Mattheo turned to look at them with a proud smile, he was met with wide grins and unhindered chuckles. When you gathered the courage to glance upwards, Pansy smiled cheekily, giving you a wink, and you assumed that somehow she already knew that you had both kissed last night. Clearing your throat, you watched as Mattheo shoved a parcel into his pocket, the size of a small, square box, nodding towards a girl at the end of the table who ran out of the great hall clutching a red envelope in her hand to distract you.

“Red,” Theo stated, grimacing, “That’s the Pucey colour.”

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btsbabe7 · 6 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 live? 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 parents 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 he whips his wand out and sends a charm towards his study door. It closes and locks quietly, but the nearly silent sound still 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 Slytherin 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 graced him with such vulgar imagery. He turns away 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 cover 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 his 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 will go mad if he does. 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 massage 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, 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 relishes 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 at 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, squeezing 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 his 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 the touch. Then, his own need for control returns, washing 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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wizardingworldlibrary · 2 months ago

Text

Smut - Wet Dreams Masterlist

A Chronicler's Dilemma (ao3) - ACourtofStyle89 Hermione/Draco E, 21k

Summary: Hermione’s diary is missing, and the main suspects are the Slytherin fifth years. Hermione is willing to go to extreme lengths to get her book back, but will she get more than she bargained for when she walks through the wrong door of the Slytherin dormitories.

A Full Recovery (ao3) - jeguluses (temperates) Regulus/James E, 1k

Summary: Regulus gets sick and James has no problem taking care of his boyfriend. He tucks him in, feeds him, bathes him. Whatever he needs. James will give him everything he asks for.

Except sex.

But When I Dream (ao3) - Gullviva Draco/Harry E, 12k

Summary: An Eighth year fic, where Draco is getting increasingly frustrated as Harry keeps ignoring him.

Crisp Apples (ao3) - greenflyer13 Sirius/Remus, James/Lily N/R, 26k

Summary: Remus smells something new on Sirius and he loves it

Dark Paradise (ao3) - ArethusaRay Sirius/Remus E, 1k

Summary: Remus is having vivid dreams after Sirius' death.

Extra Credit (ao3) - Voidwalker Theodore/Harry E, 8k

Summary: Hogwarts’ infamous sexual education class had fallen by the wayside during Harry’s tumultuous sixth and seventh year. Now, in his eighth year, it has been reintroduced for all N.E.W.T. students, and unfortunately Harry has no choice but to participate in a rather hands-on demonstration.

Extraordinary Magic (ao3) - moonfairy13, Yulefest Hermione/Fred E, 9k

Summary: Hermione found herself leaning against a pole, with her hands fastened loosely behind her. As if she were the figurehead of the ship, leading its sailors through the ocean. Almost naked, bound, with a sexy redheaded pirate whispering smut into her ear.

And then she sat up, shocked to find herself in bed at The Burrow, having just had the strangest and most erotic dream of her life, about a man who she had never thought of in that way before.

What was happening? Why was she having erotic dreams about pirate Fred every time she went to sleep? And how was she going to get through Christmas with Fred and his family, when all she could think about was when she could dream about him again?

Ghost Kiss (ao3) - D_O Draco/Harry E, 3k

Summary: Draco has a late night visitor in the Infirmary...

Good Dreams (ao3) - thelonelywriter Draco/Harry E, 3k

Summary: Draco wakes up in the middle of the night from a particularly good dream; Harry helps take care of the aftermath.

Hunting the Dark Witch (ao3) - SerpentClara Harry/Bellatrix T, 3k

Summary: After an exhausting day of Auror training, Harry dreams about his future career... and Bellatrix Lestrange. An attempt at a Harry/Bellatrix fic.

Is that what you´ve dreamed about? (ao3) - Soulniar Regulus/James E, 2k

Summary: Regulus has a wet dream, James punishes him for it. After all, he had not been allowed to come.

Love/Hate (ao3) - rockerchica826 (bowtiewontlie) Draco/Harry M, 3k

Summary: Draco is having the worst day of his life... or is it the best?

Saffron and Lilacs (ao3) - EscapeInMyBookshelf Padma/Percy T, 1k

Summary: Percy Weasley works directly with Padma Patil in the International Magical Office of Law, and Padma has to give a presentation to the French of Minister of Magic to save a herd of Unicorns living in Bordeaux, France but Percy refuses to travel by Portkey (again.)

Sweet Dreams (ao3) - aneedleofmyown Hermione/Ron E, 2k

Summary: Ron learns the hard way about the difference between dreams and reality.

Teacher's Pet (ao3) - gracerene Draco/Charlie E, 19k

Summary: Charlie and Draco might not have hooked up in that dim Muggle club if they'd recognised each other--and if they'd known that Charlie was going to be Draco's new Care of Magical Creatures professor. Now that the truth is out in the open, the hard part is not doing it again.

Teaching Miss Granger (ao3) - OracleObscured Hermione/Snape E, 473k

Summary: Hermione is caught out after curfew. Her punishment turns her world upside down.

That Night (ao3) - dreomionedarling Draco/Theodore E, 2k

Summary: Another Media Circus cannon short fic, this tells the story of that secret night Theo references a few times when he woke to find Draco in his bed.

The Artist and the Savior (ao3) - HiddenByFaeries Harry/Dean M, 6k

Summary: Dean comes into an unexpected Magical Being Inheritance and, through dreams and books, realizes that Harry is his mate. Harry wakes up on his sixteenth birthday and learns some amazing facts about why he smells like a submissive.

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moonyeyedstar · 8 months ago

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Kinktober Day 30: Bellatrix Lestrange x f!reader- Knife Play

*18+*

*a/n noncon, blood, blood eating, being cut, dark themes, forced use of toys, disturbing for some, don’t do this irl it’s not safe, please don’t harm yourselves or others*

“Such a pretty girl,” she cooed creepily into your ear. She captured you from a mission, now she had you nude and tied up in an empty room in the manor. You tried tugging at the restraints but they were charmed, the more you fought it the more they tightened. She pulled out her knife, holding the silver tip to your throat making your breath hitch. “Such a pretty girl,” she repeated dragging the tip of the knife down from your throat to your sternum before resting it by your belly button. You were careful not to move so you did not accidentally aid the knife to impale you. “Such a pretty girl but such a shame I have to cut you up, ruin you,” she said with a breathy baby voice that made your stomach churn.

“Stop!” You cried out, feeling hopeless, you were stuck. She let out a maniacal cackle, what is wrong with her? You look at her horrified, tears streaming down your face. A thin faint line from where her dagger had cut you began to bead with blood, it stang.

“Listen to me, you pathetic girl!” Her shriek rang throughout the manor. “If you follow my command I will let you walk out of here alive, but only if you listen to my every word, are we understood?!”

“Y-Yes,” you choked back your tears, you would do whatever it took to walk out of this room alive.

“Good!” She grabbed the knife once more, the tip of the blade poking right under your belly button before she dragged it down and around to go down your inner thigh, deep enough to leave a trail of blood beads but not deep enough to kill you. You winced from the pain and fought to keep your trembling thighs at ease. “Look at you, behaving already, it’s so pathetic how terrified you are, how weak you are, you can’t even fight back!” She hissed at you before placing her dagger beside you tauntingly before disappearing from the room into the giant walk-in closet. Your heart was pounding. She came back with a long thick silicone toy, it looked like a torture device.

“What is that?” You gawked at its size, if she was trying to put that inside of you there was no way it would fit.

“A toy you stupid girl,” she hissed as she lined it up to your involuntarily wet entrance, your body was prepared but your mind wasn’t.

“That won’t fit, mistress,” you whimpered.

“It will fit if I want it to fit!” With one forceful push, she split you open around the toy. You screamed out in pain which she seemed to enjoy. Your cunt was hot as if it was bleeding, you felt ripped apart. Tears began to stream down your face and Bellatrix took this as the perfect opportunity to regain hold of her knife and held it to your throat, “Another peep and I’ll slit your throat!”

“S-Sorry, mistress,” you cried and sucked in your breath, doing your best to be as silent as possible. She smiled in a sense as if she was pleased with you but she looked demented, she was demented. She let out a shrilly whiney sound before charming the dildo to fuck you at a brutal pace. You sobbed silently, it hurt so bad but you did not want to prolong this.

“Look at you, taking it so well, oh what a sight to be seen. Is that blood?” She smirked evilly and used her free hand to collect blood from the cunt onto her fingertips before licking it off and letting out a delighted squeal before removing the bloody toy from within you and diving between your thighs. She began to fuck you with her tongue, devouring the metallic taste of your blood on her tongue. You choked back a moan, the pleasure slowly mixing into the pain. You felt so confused, she was psychotic, pure evil, and you hated her, but why did it start to feel so good? “Moan for me! Moan for me you ungrateful bitch!” She screamed between your thighs, the vibration from her scream rippling through your clit causing your hips to jolt slightly up towards her face.

“Oh, Mistress,” you cried out for her and she continued to abuse your cunt with her tongue, you slowly felt yourself nearing a dreaded orgasm. “F-Feel so good, thank you,” you moaned, wanting her to see you as grateful and let you free after she was done abusing you. She continued to devour, it was not long before you finished on her face and panted as quietly as possible. Bellatrix came up for air and smirked at you, her face covered in your blood, you felt goosebumps prickle over your skin.

“I suppose I should let you go,” she said in a singsongy voice and licked as much of your blood off of her lips before untying you. The second the restraints dropped she grabbed her knife, “Go now or I will kill you, 10, 9, 8, 7…” You jumped up with all your strength not even looking back for your clothes before bolting out of the manor, her evil cackle fading out in the background as you fled the scene.

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sweetblinginrose · 6 months ago

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𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕪 𝕒𝕨𝕒𝕪 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕞𝕖,

𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖!

ღ pairing: Neville Longbottom × OCfem!Lestrange

ღ summary: Morwenna Evangelinne Lestrange was born on October 31, 1980, on a dark and stormy night that seemed to foreshadow her destiny. Daughter of the feared marriage of Death Eaters Bellatrix Black and Rodolphus Lestrange, her arrival into the world was marked by the echo of dark magic and power.

Barely a year after her birth, her parents were arrested and imprisoned in Azkaban for their active involvement in the First Wizarding War. They were loyal accomplices of Lord Voldemort, committing acts of unspeakable cruelty. With her parents behind bars, the guardianship of Morwenna fell to her aunt Narcisa Malfoy, who had also given birth to a son that same year. Thus, Gelinne and her cousin Draco were raised together in the opulent Malfoy Manor, under the strict supervision of Lucius.

From an early age, Gelinne was taught the most elegant and refined manners. Lucius Malfoy insisted that, as a pureblood, she must maintain an impeccable appearance and impeccable conduct. Morwenna's education was rigorous, designed to instill in her the values and superiority of her lineage.

Over the years, Gelinne grew up alongside Draco, sharing not only their education but also the ignorance of her parents' crimes. She knew of them only by their names and their portraits, imposing and mysterious figures that adorned the walls of the manor.

Finally, the anticipated moment came to attend the prestigious school of magic, Hogwarts. Alongside her cousin Draco, Morwenna quickly earned the respect of her fellow Slytherins and other students, thanks to her distinguished bearing and innate magical ability.

ღ warning: It mentions torture, death, bullying, abuse, evil, distress, sex…

ღ a/n: this is a work created by me, which means I haven't relied on anyone or anything to make it, and I don't accept any adaptation or translation since l've already taken care of both myself c:

————————》✧《—————————

ღ chapter one

ღ chapter two

ღ chapter three

ღ chapter four

#fanfic #neville longbottom #neville x mc #neville longbottom x you #neville longbottom smut #neville longbottom fanfic #neville #neville x reader #lestrange x longbottom #longbottom #bellatrix lestrange #lestrange

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fugamalefica · 3 months ago

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I really want to write hot animagus smut about Bellatrix and Padfoot.

#harry potter #bellatrix lestrange #bellatrix black #sirius black #padfoot #smut #writing #human x animagus

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nocturnerium · 2 months ago

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𝔙𝔢𝔩𝔳𝔢𝔱 𝔙𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔪

Narcissa Black Malfoy x Reader

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

summary : At a gathering of the magical elite, a former Dark Arts professor finds themselves reluctantly entangled with Narcissa Malfoy—a woman as composed as she is disarming. What begins as a battle of glances and sarcasm unfolds into a dangerous game of wit, tension, and unexpected connection. Beneath the dark green velvet , something darker stirs.

tags: affair, smut, secret hook up, goth scenarios, nsfw, mention of smoking and drinking, bickering, love-hate, eventual smut

notes: Narcissa Malfoy have always been one of my favorite characters from Harry Potter sequels, so here’s my first work dedicated to her. Hope you enjoy🦇🖤

Make sure to follow me on AO3 (arquive of our own) @nocturnerium for more content.

Open for requests!

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

As soon as you crossed the threshold into the enormous salon, an elegant figure immediately seized your attention. Her posh lips were touched by the rich hue of burgundy, and a fine green velvet coat accentuated her graceful curves. You couldn’t help but stare—captivated for longer than what would be considered appropriate. Who could this woman be? you wonder. Then recognition dawned on you—those features did remind you of someone. She must be Draco Malfoy’s mother, as you’d heard. Adjusting your coat, you proceeded further into the crowded salon.

The room was teeming with witches and wizards from all over. This gathering was a rare occasion that occurred from time to time—a night of dining, drinking, and ceremony that brought together fellow skilled, and mostly pureblood, witches and wizards. As you navigated through the crowd, you suddenly felt the woman’s eyes upon you.

You stopped near a vacant table, greeting some acquaintances as they passed by. You raised your drink to your lips, trying to avert your eyes from the mysterious woman who kept staring, Her gaze, unwavering, waited for an opportune moment. Slowly, she made her way toward you, the velvet coat trailing behind her. When she reached your side, she held out a manicured hand.

“You must be the former Professor of Dark Arts,” she said.

“Well, yes—although I believe I still am, since the position is technically still in vacancy…” you replied coldly, taking a sip from your drink.

Narcissa ignored your curt tone and continued to smile, her manners polite and composed, her gaze flicking over you with intrigue.

“Of course. Forgive my informal address. I’m Narcissa Malfoy. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Of course, I should’ve known by the resemblance” you said, hesitantly extending your hand—the same one that had been holding your drink, your fingers now deadly cold.

Narcissa couldn’t resist a slight shiver as your chilled fingers touched hers, but she didn’t let it faze her. Keeping her smile intact, she withdrew her hand and took a sip of her wine to mask her surprise. She took note of your demeanor.

“Resemblance? Oh, you mean the Malfoy traits. I suppose they are quite distinct, aren’t they?”

“Quite. But no—not the Malfoys. I meant the Blacks. You all have this mystery about your gaze or something,” you said before taking another sip.

Narcissa chuckled softly at your laconic response, finding your demeanor both intriguing and amusing. She followed suit and took another sip, eyeing you with growing interest.

“I must admit—your presence is quite captivating.”

You raised your eyebrow slightly. This woman was starting to get under your skin.

“So, are you enjoying yourself at the ceremony?” you asked nonchalantly, looking in a random direction as you spoke.

“Oh, as enjoyable as these events can be. A bunch of old witches and wizards gathering to talk politics and gossip. Hardly my idea of a thrilling evening.” She swirled her drink in the glass as she spoke.

Her presence, for some reason, felt like an irritation—but one you could handle. A playful smile tugged at your lips as you spoke with dry irony.

“Well, you know, Mrs. Malfoy—my thoughts on this sort of event tend to be a little… degrading. I wonder who had the idea of gathering a bunch of people who pretend not to hex each other in the same room for a whole night.” You took the last sip of your drink.

A smirk tugged at the corners of the woman’s mouth at your biting sarcasm. She glanced around the room, taking in the various guests, some of whom were engaged in strained conversations.

“Oh, I couldn’t agree more. A room full of hidden tensions and fake smiles doesn’t seem quite the recipe for a pleasant evening. But here we are, making the best of it, I suppose.”

She raised her nearly empty glass in a mock toast. You glanced at your empty one and then to hers, not following her motion.

“You should never make a toast with an empty glass. Bad luck,” you said.

A genuine chuckle escaped Narcissa’s lips as she lowered her glass.

“Ah, how could I forget? I blame the alcohol—it tends to cloud my memory.”

She gestured toward your empty glass, her smile still in place.

“Seems like we both could use a refill. Excuse me for just a moment.”

Before you could reply, she was already striding toward the cocktail tower in the center of the salon. Her hips swayed in smooth rhythm, her calves accentuated by the flexing of her heels with each step. She approached the tower with elegance and ease, and returned shortly, holding a glass in each hand.

“Thank you, but I’d rather stick with what little remains of my sobriety for the night” you said when she offered you one.

“A wise choice.”

She raised her own glass to her lips, taking a small sip, and rested the other on the table. Her gaze wandered across the room, observing the other guests, before returning to you.

“Although, I must admit—watching you maintain your composure while everyone else slowly loses theirs can be… entertaining.”

Was she testing you? The woman had only just met you, yet her words struck like a curse. She had become an immense source of irritation. Your jaw clenched, tight and involuntary.

Narcissa noticed—and her amusement only deepened. She decided to push a little further, curious to see how much it would take to rattle your composure.

“You seem quite tense, Professor. Is something troubling you?”

She feigned innocence in her tone, sipping from her drink once more. Her eyes gleamed mischievously as she watched you.

“I might only need a cigarette,” you said coldly. “Excuse me, Mrs. Malfoy.”

Just as you turned to leave, hoping for reprieve from this vexing encounter, you felt her hand grip your bicep from behind.

Narcissa’s smirk widened as she gently held onto your arm, stopping you. The touch of her cool fingers against your skin sent a strange sensation through you—both unfamiliar and distracting.

“Ah, of course, Professor. Perhaps I could accompany you.”

Her tone was far too mocking—deliberately provocative, her smirk growing as her hand lingered on you.

You looked her up and down, your irritation plain.

“Of course,” you said through clenched teeth. “That would be a pleasure,” you added, your voice dripping with irony.

———

You proceeded down the corridor, moving steadily until you arrived at the grand balcony perched at its far edge.

Narcissa followed you out into the cool night air, her heels clicking softly against the floor. She stepped onto the balcony and leaned against the railing, watching as you fumbled through your blazer, reaching for your cigarette case.

She tilted her head slightly, observing your movements when you struggled to light up the cigarette between your lips, a mix of curiosity and something else you couldn't quite pinpoint peaked up on her features. A slightly smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth as she observed your agitation.

"Quite a habit you’ve got there, Professor. But I suppose it goes hand in hand with your mysterious facade, doesn’t it?” She said in a sarcastic tone.

You look up to her, struggling to light up your cigarette, your eyes burning already.

The woman was getting on your nerves.

“With all respect, but I do know you’re dying to get one Mrs. Malfoy.”

Narcissa chuckled softly, realizing her comment had struck a nerve. She raised an eyebrow, the smirk still present on her lips.

"Oh, am I that obvious, Professor? Perhaps I do have a penchant for vices."

She reached into the pocket of her own coat and pulled out a cigarette case, not wanting to be outdone.

"You're observant as ever. Got a light for me?"

You didn't even bother to reach for the lighter in your pocket. Instead, you lowered yourself to her height, holding your cigarette to your lips, inviting her to light hers from its smouldering tip.

"How terribly considerate of you, Professor." She whispered, as if she was talking to herself.

The smirk now widened at your unexpected gesture. Her eyes flickered from your cigarette to your lips as you held it to your mouth, waiting for her to light it. The proximity between you heightened the tension in the air. She leaned in slightly, lighting it gently.

"Quite chivalrous" she added, her voice lower than before. You straightened from your bent posture and exhaled a stream of smoke to the side.

"As I’ve been told, seems like I'm a natural gentleman. What can I do?" you remarked with a touch of irony in your voice.

Narcissa mirrored your position, inhaling deeply and blowing out a cloud of smoke. She observed the way it curled and dispersed into the night air before responding, her tone laced with sarcasm.

"Ah, a natural gentleman, are you? Well, aren't we fortunate to have such a modern-day gallant in our midst?"

“Yes, must be such a luck.” You answered.

"Indeed, a rare gem. A history professor with manners, a penchant for cigarettes, and a talent for sarcasm. Quite the package." Her eyes never left your face, studying your expressions intently as she spoke.

“Almost elegant if wasn’t so insufferable, don’t you think Mrs. Malfoy?” You felt a little bit of annoyance from her, had you finally striken a nerve on the woman?

Narcissa bristled ever so slightly at your words, the smirk on her face faltering for a moment before returning with a touch of irritation.

"Ah, don't flatter yourself, Professor. I assure you, your insufferable demeanor has not gone unnoticed… You think you're unique, that your aloofness makes you intriguing. But it's rather tiresome, to be honest."

“Is that so, Miss?” A smirk lays to your lips as you respond, flickering the cigarette between your finger. Narcissa's gaze narrowed slightly at your smirk, further annoyed by your seemingly nonchalant attitude.

"Yes, it is so, Professor. Your attempts to appear untouchable, your snarky retorts, it's all quite predictable. Trust me, you're not the first person to employ such tactics."

You felt your blood pulsing at the vein on your forehead, you wanted to see how much of your so likely insufferable behavior she could take.

“Not the first person, you say? You must be such a ran through woman” You barely whisper the last part, but it was enough for her to hear.

Narcissa's irritation flared at your insinuation, her gaze hardening. She clenched her jaw, clearly not expecting such a direct provocation. She exhaled a long stream of smoke before replying, her voice holding a hint of anger.

"Ran through, you say? How charmingly vulgar. I assure you, Professor, my experience with insufferably arrogant individuals such as yourself is limited."

Her grip on her cigarette tightened slightly as she looked at you, her composure hanging by a thread.

Part II here

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 2 years ago

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If you’re up for it, numbers 17, 22, and 49 with Bellatrix please? I was thinking hate-sex but you can do something else if you prefer. Preferably no mommy kink, but anything else is fine <3

Snowball Puppy ~Dom!Bellatrix Lestrange xFem Puppy!Reader ~Holiday Bingo

Summary— A day in the snow turns a heated rivalry into a passion filled night. Anon Response— Hey hey anon!! Thanks for the request. Bellatrix could always use more content! No mommy kink, just like you asked. Enjoy! ♥️

Previous Day <—found here!

Holiday Bingo <—Here!!

Mommy… Masterlist

Requests & Prompt-List

Prompt— Playing in the Snow

#17. “Don’t make me ask again”

#22. “Stop doing that”

#49. “You look so good when you beg...”

Warnings: NSFW, light smut, fingering, dom/sub relations, puppy play, begging, begging kink, teasing, taunting, intimidation, hate-sex, enemies to lovers, implied future smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

You, Bellatrix, and Draco were outside, in the middle of a snow blurry, running around and playing in the snow.You were Draco’s Godmother, and you live and adored Draco. Bellatrix you barely stomached. It was his idea to invite her out in the snow. You merely grumbled along.

Suddenly you felt a hard pelt of snow on the back of your neck. You turned around and saw a grinning Draco, his hands filled with snowballs.

You smirked and quickly began rolling your own icy weapons. But instead of throwing them at Draco, you flung them Bellatrix’s way. The witch shrieked as an icy ball hit her in the shoulder. She looked madly furious. Then you threw another one, hitting her neck this time.

You giggled endlessly as she jumped about in a cold spout of rage. Your last throw of your snowballs landed right in the woman’s face. You gasped and placed your hand over your mouth in reaction. Draco bursted out in laughter.

But then Bellatrix stared you down and began charging toward you. With intent and ferocity. And you quickly made a run for it. You scampered back into Malfoy Manor, yelling back at Draco for help. But Draco was rolling in the snow, laughing endlessly, and certainly not helping you.

You ran inside the Manor and up the stairs, down the corridors, until you reached your guest room. You ran in, shut the door behind you, and collapsed against it panting.

It wasn’t long before Bellatrix caught up with you. You could tell from her sinister cackling. It always sent shivers down your spine.

She banged on the door, taunting your name and trying to get in. But your body kept the door firmly closed. That was until magic was involved.

A split second later, you were hurled forward onto the ground and the door swung open violently. It closed itself as Bellatrix entered, staring down at you as you scrambled to get up. But she hindered you, stepping on your chest, effectively keeping you pinned on the ground.

Your eyes widened and your breathing shallowed at this compromising position. But a spark of courage lighted in you as her dark and dangerous eyes met your gaze. You weren’t going down without a fight.

“Stop doing that. Let me go.” You gritted out through your teeth.

Bellatrix grinned like a Cheshire Cat and tilted her head, pushing her foot down further and threatening to cut off your oxygen flow to your lungs.

“I think you like it…!” she jeered in her taunting manner.

You growled in response, barring your teeth while squirming underneath her heel. Bellatrix chuckled and accepted your challenge.

“Fine then. Beg. Beg me to let you go.” She jeered.

Your breath hitched in your breath.

“Fuck you!” You sneered.

Bellatrix chuckled darkly and shook her head.

“Don’t make me ask again” she threatened darkly.

The newfound edge and dominance to her tone got to you.

“I… umm” you stammered, your face getter redder and redder.

“What’s the matter, pup…?” Bellatrix jeered.

The pet name sent waves right to your core… ferocious, unrelenting waves.

“P-please…”

The pressure tightened once more on your chest. She was saying it wasn’t good enough.

“Please Bellatrix… please…” you begged, “please please please—” you chanted, closing your eyes out of embarrassment.

This made the woman smirk wickedly.

“Please please…!” She mocked you.

Your eyes shot opened widened at her tone and you gulped.

This time you involuntarily jerked your hips upward, your body suddenly needing relief and some sort of friction. This made Bellatrix chuckle darkly. Bellatrix then released her foot from your chest, letting you breath once more.

With a muttering spell under her breath, Bellatrix moved you onto your bed. You were frozen as the woman pounced on you, pinning you to the bed. You moved your head to the side, as her face came right up to yours, and her tongue licked up the trial of your neck and jaw.

You wanted to hate it. But you didn’t… You coudn’t… your body was giving in.

Your hips jerked up once more, making the woman chuckle again. While keeping you successfully pinned to the bed, one of Bellatrix’s hands wandered down in between your legs, her fingers grazing your clothes center. This only made you jerk your hips even more, making your mind more and more dizzy.

Bellatrix growled in response.

“P-please please… don’t stop—-” you sputtered.

“You look so good when you beg, pup…” Bellatrix cooed wickedly.

“I h-hate you… I—” you breathed out roughly.

But you were cut off as her fingers slipped under your clothing layers and two of them slid into your warmth.

“I know, pup… I know…” Bellatrix cooed lustfully, pumping and curling into your cunt at a fast and harsh pace.

~~~

Next Bingo Fic <—Here!!

Bellatrix Lestrange Masterlist

Holiday Bingo 2023 Masterlist

Tag List: @storiesofsvu @willowshadenox @aemilia19 @lunala-rose23 @sapphixwriter @vexed-jade

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keanusbabydoll · 10 months ago

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make up sex

paring: bellatrix lestrange x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ content, toxic relationship, smut, soft!bella, mentions of torture, fingering, slight overstimulation, cunnilingus, mommy kink, age gap relationship (reader is 18, bella is in her late 30s), softdom!bella

masterlist

——————

and again you’re sitting in your room at the malfoy manor, balling out your eyes because of her. bellatrix lestrange. your girlfriend.

by now you’re not only crying because you’re sad, no. it’s the frustration and anger you feel towards her already. this is the fourth time now she completely ignored, taunted and even hurt you during a meeting with the death eaters and the dark lord of course. you simply can’t describe how angry all that makes you, neither do you understand her sick behavior.

in your opinion she’s too blended by the dark lord. it doesn’t matter what he asks of her, she won’t spend a single thought before doing it immediately. she practically follows him around like a fucking dog. and today it definitely went too far.

you became a death eater a few weeks ago and that not by wish. you were forced and it not only broke you but also affects your mental health badly. however, the dark lord has given you a task, which required to murder your best friends, ron and hermione, because they’re destroying his plan to kill harry potter. and obviously he chose you to act out the deed as you’re still attending hogwarts and you’re the closest to them from all death eaters.

but of course you couldn’t do it. you didn’t have the heart to kill your best friends. they’re practically like siblings to you and if you would have done it, you would have never recovered from that.

so, you didn’t follow the dark lords commands, and of course you knew that he would find out about it very quickly and that this wouldn’t end good. every death eater that doesn’t oblige the dark lord’s wishes, serves a harsh punishment. and today you were the one.

you begged him for forgiveness, promised him that something like that would never happen again. but he didn’t show mercy. and to make it even worse for you, he chose bellatrix to be the one to torture you. unfortunately he knows about your relationship and he knew that it would hurt you even more if bellatrix punishes you.

and you can’t explain how you felt in that moment. the betrayal, angst, anger, everything just came crashing down. the tears that were prickling in your eyes when bella stood up from her seat, went over to you and roughly threw you on the floor and cursed you with the torture spell, crucio, in front of everyone. and all that without hesitation. even narcissa, her sister, was shocked and tried to talk her out of it. but nothing made her change her mind, not even your cry’s and begs.

that really broke you. merlin, she’s your own fucking girlfriend. and it’s not like she doesn’t know that you hate the way she behaves towards you when you’re around voldemort. you guys had multiple arguments about that topic, where you told her how you felt and what you expect from her. but it seems like she never really took it seriously and just didn’t give a fuck about your opinion.

soft sobs leave your mouth and you hug your thighs tighter. you really don’t want to continue this way. you can’t bear all that any longer.

a loud knock on your door, pulls you out of your thoughts and look up. “what?” you ask with a shaky but annoyed voice. you honestly just want to be alone right now.

“baby, it’s me. i’m really sorry, can i please come in?” the sound of your girlfriends voice rings through your ears.

“no bella, go away.” you mumble before you burry your face in your knees again.

a frustrated sigh slips past your lips when you hear your door open. what does she not understand? you do not have the power to see her or speak to her right now.

you lift your head and start to cry again when you see her standing in front of you.

“just leave bella. i don’t want to talk to you.” you whisper, eyes pleading her to just listen to you once. but of course she doesn’t give you this satisfaction.

as she sees your red puffy eyes and swollen trembling lips, she immediately walks over to your side of the bed, sitting down next to you. even if it doesn’t seem like it, but seeing you in such a state breaks her. bella loves you more than anything, even when she doesn’t act like it directly.

“y/n, listen, i’m so sorry. i shouldn’t have done that.” she states, sadness latching from her voice. you just look at her with a blank stare, a chuckle almost threatening to leave your mouth.

“that’s what you always say bella.”

“no y/n, i mean it. really.” she places her wand down and scoots closer to you but before she can touch you, you shift further away from her. bella frowns in reply and looks at you with soft eyes.

you shake your head in disbelief, wipe your tears forcefully away and sit up straight. does she actually think you’re stupid? it’s always the same. she hurts you in any way possible, then she crawls back to you, apologizing and you idiot always forgive her. and then everything starts again. but not this time. you can’t and won’t put up with that any longer, simply because of the sake of your mental health.

with gritted teeth and hate filled eyes you turn your head to look at her. “do you really think that i’ll continue like this? don’t you notice that it’s always the same? and merlin, what the fuck have you thought bella. torturing me in front of everyone without any hesitation? me, your girlfriend? do you have any idea how i’m feeling?” you hiss at her sharply, not being able to contain your anger and frustration anymore.

you catch her face dropping at your words, a sad expression covers it now. she nervously fiddles with her fingers and looks down to her lap.

as she remains silent you huff out and turn to face the wall next to you. “just as i thought.” you whisper.

your brows furrow when you hear quiet sniffs next you. once again you turn around and are almost shocked when you see bellatrix crying. this is the first time ever you witness her crying. she was never one to show her feelings or her soft side, not even in your presence.

but nevertheless, she shouldn’t be the one who’s crying. you didn’t hurt her in any way. it was just her who failed to be a good girlfriend.

her glossy eyes wander up to yours and she pouts. “please y/n i beg you. forgive me one more time. i promise you, i’ll never do something like that again. see, i talked with narcissa because i didn’t know what to do. i feel so fucking awful for how i treated you and i realize that all just now. how much you really mean to me. you’re the only person i ever truly loved and i hate myself for being such a bitch towards you. please, i’ll make it up to you.” the witch pours out her heart, completely vulnerable right now.

when you don’t reply she shoots up and grabs your hand before you can snatch it away.

“please say something baby. i love you.” her voice is barley above a whisper and you close your eyes for a second. seeing her in such a form and hearing her talking in that way kind of shocks you. as mentioned before, you never saw her in that manner before. and to be honest you think that she actually means it this time. or else she wouldn’t be acting like this.

“it’s okay bella, i get it. but please, don’t you ever do something like that again. i’m serious.” you finally answer her, voice much softer and understanding now.

bellatrix’s eyes lighten up in happiness and relief and she almost squeals out.

“thank you baby. i can’t tell you how sorry i am.” the witch pulls you into a hug and squeezes you tightly. you smile in reply and hug her back. doesn’t matter what she does, she’ll always make you happy and smile. she’s the woman you love.

bella pulls away from your embrace and stares at you with sparkling eyes. “but let me make it up to you. please.”

you smirk at her, knowing exactly what she’s referring to. “yes… mommy.” is all you have to say before she almost jumps on top of you and gets herself comfortable on your lap. she brushes a few strands of your hair behind your ears and puts her hands on your cheeks before smashing her lips on yours. your hands grip her waist as you return each of her kisses with equal favor. as a moan slips past your lips, bella doesn’t hesitate and sticks her tongue into your mouth, exploring every bit of it with her tongue.

the both of you fight for dominance, which bella wins with no question. a muffled whine comes from her as he starts to grind her hips against yours, your clothed clits rubbing against each other deliciously. your core starts to ache already, needing to feel more of her. with a moan you break the kiss and breath out. “i need you bella, please.”

she grins at you wickedly and leans over to grab her wand from the bedside table. with a wave of her wrist, all your clothes are gone in a blink of an eye. “whatever you want kitten.” she purrs before she tosses her wand away again and bends down to suck on your neck. you quietly whimper out as she licks on your soft skin. slowly, her lips wander down to your collarbone and to the swell of your breasts, leaving a trail of purple turning hickies. when her mouth finally wraps around your right nipple and her hands roam over your whole body, your heart skips a beat.

it doesn’t matter how many times you have sex, you always get excited at the thought of her pleasuring you and feeling her cold hands on you.

your fingers tangle in her hair and you slightly lift your hips trying to sign her that you need to feel her on your pussy. obviously she gets it, but she takes her time with you, worshipping your whole body. bella’s hands caress your curves, memorizing every inch of her beloved’s body.

the witch releases your hardened bud before she focuses her attention on your other one, gently licking it, then biting down on it harshly, eliciting a sharp hiss from you. “bellaaa! please.”

she pulls away from your nipple and looks up at you with a smirk. “my little impatient pet.” she chirps. her hands start to knead and squeeze your tits harshly while she gets off your lap and settles in right between your plush thighs. her tongue licks its way down your belly, loving the taste of your skin. her hands follow her tongue and they wrap around the inside of your thighs, pushing them open as wide as possible.

you let out a frustrated sigh and throw your head back. if she doesn’t fuck you now any minute you’ll go insane, your walls are already clenching around nothing, desperately wanting to feel her long fingers pushing them open.

without you knowing, bellatrix just read your thoughts and chuckles darkly to herself. before even completely realizing it -too lost in your own thoughts- , the witch lines up two of her fingers with your already wet dripping entrance and pushes them knuckle deep inside of you with ease. a surprised whine falls from your lips as you finally get to feel her. the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them and the overwhelming lust they're feeling.

“you’re so wet baby.” she almost groans out, as she scissors her fingers against your warm, velvety walls, just loving the feeling of them.

“just for you mommy.” you reply breathlessly and prop up on your elbows, making eye contact with your girlfriend.

without breaking your intense stare, bella begins to slowly pump her fingers in and out of your hole, not daring to give any attention to that special spot, intentionally teasing you. you huff out and throw your head back in annoyance. “i thought you wanted to make it up to me.”

“who said i didn’t?” she taunts you with an evil grin.

you look back down at her, opening your mouth to say something but before you are able to let out a single word, she suddenly curls up her fingers, pressing them hard into your sweet spot. your breathing stocks at the jolts of pleasure this is sending through your body and you whimper out.

bella smirks to herself proudly as she starts to roughly thrust up her fingers against that spot that makes you see stars. a loud whine rings in bella's ears, making her go just faster in reply. she looks up at you with hungry eyes, loosing herself completely as she watches you fall to pieces just because of her. there's nothing else she loves more than pleasing you and seeing you quiver under her. you are hers and only hers.

the squelching sounds and the intense smell of hot passionate sex that fills the room, makes your mind spinning, loosing yourself in the pleasure she's giving to you.

"look at you, taking it so good for mommy." your girlfriend moans out as she starts to kiss up and down the inside of your thigh, her aggressive pace never stopping. you barely nod your head in reply, as your eyes wander further down to where she's pounding your poor cunt in an inhuman way.

her face distances from your plush flesh and she sends you one last mischievous look before she dips down her head for her tongue to lick a slow strip up your folds to your sensitive bud with a small hum. that simple contact on your clit makes your whole body shudder and you have to lay back down. you feel her smile against your pussy because of your reaction and lets the tip of her tongue flick expertly over your small bundle of nerves. you press your eyes tightly shut and whimper out at the intense sensation.

with the intense thrusting of her fingers and the indescribable feeling on your clit, you can feel your orgasm slowly build up. bella notices this as well, simply because of your body language and how hard your walls are clamping down on her digits. your whines and cry’s rattle against the black colored moans and your left hand grips the duvets beneath you tightly, needing something to hold onto.

the witch lifts her head from your in spit glistening cunt and admires her work for a second. the loss of contact makes you look up to her and your breath stocks a for a moment when you see her spitting on your pussy, before capturing your clit again.

“oh my god, bella!” a scream leaves you mouth as you’re on the verge of cumming, your abdomen tickling deliciously. bella hums feverishly against your cunt in reply, sending shock waves through your whole body.

“i’m gonna cum!” you sharply spit out, arching your back off the bed in ecstasy. again, she hums approvingly and with her free hand, bellatrix holds one of your thighs spread open, before she suddenly starts to suck on your clit uncontrollably, sending you straight over the edge. a deafening noise falls from your lips as you feel your orgasm crash through your whole form.

your girlfriend fucks you roughly through your orgasm, letting you ride it out to its highest. you let out a string of whimpers in discomfort as bella continues to stimulate you, even after your orgasm already faded, the intense feeling being too much.

“please stop bella.” you choke out and begin to trash around uncomfortably.

she lets out a muffled chuckle before she finally pulls away from your shaking form, sliding her fingers out of you slowly.

you close your eyes, trying hard to catch your breath while you lay there completely still, body aching from your intense fuck.

“oh you did so good my little pet. so, so good.” bella praises you in a high pitched voice, planting kisses on your lower belly and thighs. you smile at her being such a sweetheart with you, usually she wouldn’t be that soft, but you’re her exception. only you.

bella removes herself from your thighs and crawls up to you, pressing her body to yours. you turn to your side to take a proper look at her, admiring her beautiful features.

you both lay there in comfortable silence, her hand caressing your exposed skin lovingly and she whispers sweet little nothings into your ear. "I love you y/n. I promise that we'll get through all this. together."

"I know. I love you too." you whisper, snuggling closer to her.

a soft hum leaves her, before the both of you drift off in a deep slumber.

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