#luciennewrites

[starlitsilvereyes]

Written for @drarrymicrofic's prompt: Slide | Rating: E | Warnings: Smut | Read on Ao3

Draco’s breath gets knocked out of him as Harry slides in, agonisingly slow, one hand on Draco’s arse cheek to keep him open for him and the other grasping Draco’s hand.

“Too fast?” Harry pants, pressing his forehead against Draco’s shoulder in an attempt to keep himself steady.

Draco only whines, nearly fucking himself on Harry out of pure desperation.

Harry watches himself disappear inside Draco’s body for a moment, relishing the show Draco has decided to perform for him. Until it entirely becomes too much for the both of them, and Harry decides to finally fuck Draco properly, gripping his hips with both of his hands.

Draco turns his head, unconcerned about the odd angle, as Harry leans in and moans into Draco’s open mouth.

Nothing has ever felt more like coming home.

art commissions: open ☕️

[starlitsilvereyes]

I'm only 30 minutes in and I'm already floored by this. Will need to collect myself to be able to write a coherent comment later but it's absolutely perfect and I can never wrap my head around how talented people are in this fandom, but I am so so grateful for this. THANK YOU, thank you, thank you.

💀 Day 1 💀

Listen on AO3

Title: Devour The One You Love by starlitsilvereyes - a Podfic Rating: E Characters/Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Length: 2.5-3 hours Warnings: Graphic violence Summary: A ghost of the past — a love story bleeds into the palm of his hands. A voice echoes from the cupboard under the stairs as figures appear in the mirror. It’s been seven years since the war. Darkness comes back in different forms, wearing the skin of the one that you love.

Make sure to leave a kudo & comment, and share with all your wretched friends 💜💀💚

[wheezykat]

WIP Folder Challenge

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and I’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it! Tag as many people as you have WIPs.

oooh, big thanks to my lovelies @graymatters @amortentiaboys @lou-isfake @orange-peony @the-starryknight and @avenueofesc for tagging me! 

so i may be alone in this, but a lot of my ideas just kind of live in my head until i get the urge to write something down. but i do have a few that are currently in the works, only one of which is posted on A03 :) all of them are drarry ofc 😂

sinking ship

what you see

crashing

you’re smiling but i don’t believe you (before&after)

small town AU

i’ll tag @luciennewrites-blog @floydig @vukovich @peachpety @skeptiquewrites and anyone else who feels so inclined to share :)

[quirky-book-reads]

To the Fair Land

To the Fair Land by Lucienne Boyce (@LucienneWrite). It is a captivating read that shows a sense of the life back in the 18th century including heros, and scandalous villains... #BookBlogger #HistoricalFiction #MustRead

Genre: Mystery, Thriller, Historical Fiction A thrilling eighteenth-century mystery about a map, an author, and a vicious killer. In 1789 struggling writer Ben Dearlove rescues a woman from a furious Covent Garden mob. The woman is ill and in her delirium cries out the name “Miranda”. Weeks later an anonymous novel about the voyage of the Miranda to the fabled Great Southern Continent causes a…

[starlitsilvereyes]

Love To Hate You | E | 1.9k

Written for @harryjamespotterweek's prompts: Size Kink, Scars, Sex Toys, & Hate Sex | Warnings/Tags: PWP, Hate Sex, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Sectumsempra Scars, Sex Toy (Anal plug), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blowjob, Rimming, Light Bondage, Edging, Choking

Thank you so much to my wonderful beta @intimatelyrearranged for looking over this &lt;3 <3

Summary/Excerpt: Sex with Potter was always rough. All claws and teeth – a hand wrapped around Draco’s neck, fingernails on Draco’s hips, and Potter’s filthy mouth panting against Draco’s ear.

Read Love To Hate You on Ao3

or Expand to keep reading :)

---

Sex with Potter was always rough. All claws and teeth – a hand wrapped around Draco’s neck, fingernails on Draco’s hips, and Potter’s filthy mouth panting against Draco’s ear.

“I fucking hate you, Draco.” 

Satisfaction bloomed within Draco at the frustrated expression plastered upon Potter’s face, knowing he’d been the very cause of it. 

~

They had been in the Ministry Gala not even an hour before, with Potter’s green eyes piercing through Draco from across the table. Draco made sure they’d been seated right across from each other, so he could slide his socked foot up Potter’s leg. 

Potter ignored him at first, but there was no mistaking the tightening of his fingers around his glass. He tried to close his legs a short moment after Draco settled his ankle against Potter’s knee, but Draco thought quicker than him, sliding his foot right on Potter’s wool-clad crotch, trapping it between Potter’s thighs. 

“The wine is exquisite, Minister,” Draco praised, licking his lips as Potter let out a soft gasp when Draco pressed his foot more firmly against Potter’s clothed cock. 

“I’m pleased to hear it suits your fine taste, Mister Malfoy.” Shacklebolt smiled proudly. “I hope you’ll be as delighted with our dinner. I especially picked out the most luxurious Jamaican dishes, and I plan on developing a trade of goods between my home country and Wizarding Britain this year.” 

“I’m sure the dinner will be just as ravishing,” Draco drawled, eyeing Potter before he made a show of closing his eyes in delight when the first dish was served in front of them. 

Draco settled his foot on Potter’s inner thigh for the entirety of their meal, brushing his heel against Potter whenever he spoke to someone else at the table. Potter tolerated it, until Draco dragged his foot along the length of Potter’s entire cock, now fully hard. 

Potter visibly jumped, earning him looks from almost everyone around the expansive dining table. 

“Alright, Harry?” asked Weasley, glancing suspiciously at Draco before turning his gaze back at Potter. 

“Yeah,” Potter said, breathless. “I just need some air. If you’ll excuse me.”

Potter left the table without another word, and Draco followed halfway through his meal, as to not be too suspicious. 

He found Potter outside, hidden behind the grand oak tree Draco was certain was older than the both of them combined, a cigarette between his lips as he leaned against the brick wall. 

“Took you long enough,” Potter spat, flicking off his fag and crushing it beneath his boot. 

Before Draco could come up with a snarky remark, Potter crossed the space between them, latching is hot, wet mouth against Draco. Out of habit, Draco slot his knee between Potter’s legs. 

But Potter seemed to have a different idea, backing Draco to the wall and snogging him senseless until Draco had to pull away to catch his breath.

“Potter–” 

Without another word, Potter flicked his hand, and a silk magically appeared around Draco’s wrists, tying them together and pinning them in place above his head.

Oh. 

“If you’re going to act like a cock-hungry whore, you’re going to get treated like one.” 

Draco barely had any time to grasp what was happening when Potter knelt before him, hurriedly unbuckled his belt, and pulled his trousers down along with his pants. He inhaled a sharp breath when the cool autumn air hit his cock. 

Potter made a show of mouthing at Draco’s tip, lapping around it like some – well, some cock-hungry whore, but Draco was too occupied with the velvety warmth of Potter’s mouth to make his point. 

“So big,” Potter moaned. “So fucking perfect for me. You like this, hm?” He took Draco even deeper, only pulling off to spit on his palm and wrap a first around the base of Draco’s cock. “You like my throat around your dick? Tell me you like it, Draco.” 

“I love your mouth,” Draco gasped when Potter started fucking Draco’s cock into his mouth hungrily, desperately. “I love it when you suck me off like you’re made for it, Harry.” 

They only called each other by their names whenever they fucked. It was not something they particularly agreed on, but neither of them had complained in the past six months, and Draco hadn’t exactly thought of calling Potter by his first name outside of their rendezvous. 

Potter’s eyes, lightning green and striking, stared through Draco as he opened his throat a bit more, taking Draco deeper than he’d ever taken him. Draco shut his eyes closed, eyebrows furrowing as Harry’s name fell from his lips. “Harry, god, don’t stop. Fuck – fuck --” Pleasure rose from the depths of him, his knees growing weak, mouth going slack, and fingernails digging through his own palms.

On the brink of Draco’s orgasm, Harry pulled off, and the pleasure stopped. 

Draco opened his eyes to find Potter wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, tucking Draco back into his pants and smirking devilishly as he rose from the ground. 

“Don’t like the taste of your own medicine?” Potter smirked. 

“Fuck you, Potter.” 

“With pleasure.” 

~

The Apparition to Potter’s flat made Draco dizzy, as though he just downed an entire bottle of whiskey. Upon trying to balance himself, he realised Potter didn’t even bother to untie his wrists. Draco shut his eyes and braced himself to fall face flat on Potter’s hardwood floor, but Potter wrapped a steady arm around his waist, unabashedly pressing his fucking crotch against Draco’s arse. 

“Bend over.” Potter’s breath was hot against Draco’s ear. 

“What?” Draco asked, bewildered. “Right here?” 

Without another word, Potter vanished both of their clothes with a flick of his wand. Draco shivered, gooseflesh rising on his skin as Potter’s magic wrapped around him like an intoxicating curse.

Potter placed a firm palm on the back of Draco’s neck, guiding him to the red velvet couch and bending him over. 

“Draco –” 

Draco smirked, cheek against the cushion as he looked back at Potter smugly. He arched his back even more, relishing the surprise on Potter’s face as he eyed the plug nestled into Draco’s hole. 

“Draco,” Potter sighed. He reached for the base of the plug, pressing a firm finger against it and pushing it back. Draco closed his eyes, breath hitching as pleasure jolted within him. He knew there was no other way to end this night than to fuck Harry – or rather, be fucked by Harry, so Draco got himself ready earlier that evening by fucking himself with his fingers at the thought of Harry. Both for the intent of preparation and because he knew Harry would like it. 

“Fuck me, Harry,” Draco panted. 

Harry was already hard, pre-come glazing the tip of his pink cock. He pumped himself a few times, gaze never leaving the sight of the plug in Draco’s arse. Draco’s mouth watered at the sight. He wanted Harry to fuck him now, the desperation nearly all-consuming.

But Harry had different plans. He pinched the base of the plug between two fingers, pulling at it before letting go with only the tip in, and letting Draco’s body pull it back. 

“Oh.” The protest was at the tip of Draco’s mouth, but pleasure and want only kept building up within him. So, he resorted submitting rather than complaining. “Oh, Harry.” 

“Yeah?” Harry hummed, fucking the plug slowly into Draco. “You like that?”

Draco closed his eyes, mouth going slack as he tilted his hips higher. He could come like this – untouched, only by the mercy of his plug and Harry’s fingers. “Hmmpphhh – Harry, fuck, fuck, fuck —” He was close again, cock sensitive from rubbing against the velvet couch. He thrashed under Harry, whimpers falling from his lips like a whispered prayer, a promise, a curse – begging for Harry to let him come. 

Without warning, Harry pulled the plug from Draco’s arse. Draco gasped. He could feel himself gaping and dripping from the lube, his hole desperate to be fucked. 

Harry shifted above him, dipping the cushion with his weight. Draco braced himself to be filled by Harry’s cock, but something wet, hotter, and softer pressed against his hole.

The moan that spilled from Draco’s mouth would’ve embarrassed him if it weren’t for the scorching pleasure soaring through him like lightning blazing through a sky. Harry’s mouth kissed Draco’s hole, tongue prodding at it like Draco was something to devour. 

Draco had never come from rimming before. No doubt, it was pleasurable to him, and it aroused him to the point of neediness, but he never found it to push him over the edge. It was a pleasure that crossed the line but not quite enough to finish him off. 

Until the moment Harry inserted a single finger alongside his tongue, pumping slowly until he was knuckle deep. Draco wanted to cry from it. He was certain he’d do anything just to come – he’d live and die and go to the ends of the earth if it meant Harry made him come by his tongue and finger. There wasn’t anything Draco wanted more. 

But like all the pleasure brought by Harry tonight, he pulled away, leaving Draco panting, desperate, wanting, on the verge of madness from it all. 

Draco was limp and boneless, sedated by being brought to the edge, as he let Harry turn him over to his back. 

“Fuck you, Potter,” he said weakly. 

“I fucking hate you, Draco,” Harry said. Both of them knew it didn’t matter if they hated each other or not – not when Harry was finally pushing inside Draco with a punched out gasp. 

The tension coiled within Draco like a whirlwind brewing through a thunderstorm. A tear rolled down his cheekbone when Harry’s cock slid inside of him, overwhelming relief rushing through him. Harry started moving, slowly and earnestly at first, like Draco was delicate and untouched. Like he was someone in need of softness. 

Sex with Potter was always rough. All claws and teeth – a hand wrapped around Draco’s neck, fingernails on Draco’s hips, and Potter’s filthy mouth panting against Draco’s ear. 

But sex with Harry – his Harry, was always gentle. Soft lips mouthing at the intricacy of Draco’s silver scars; calloused palms caressing the expanse of Draco’s body; lightning green eyes rolling back from pleasure. 

Draco didn’t know who he wanted more. But he’d always been a selfish man, unashamedly so. He decided he wanted to have them both. 

With what was left of his strength, he hiked both of his legs up and settled them atop Harry’s broad shoulders. Harry opened his eyes, mouth slightly agape in surprise as Draco gazed up at him in challenge. 

“Fuck me like you hate me, Potter,” he said through clenched teeth. 

Harry let out a breath, eyes darkening as he held Draco’s calves on his shoulders, hips pistolling into Draco like he was being paid for it. He fucked and fucked until Draco was reduced into aching hunger, his mouth only ever knowing how to moan Harry’s name. 

Above Draco, Harry was a powerful storm blazing through his violent desire. He was anger and rage and fire bursting into flames – a feverish desperation clinging to Draco’s bones. Draco wanted only to have him – all of him – both Potter and Harry. He thought he could die from it and live for it. He would kill for it. 

He opened his eyes just in time to marvel at Harry in all his orgasmic glory – mouth hung open and eyebrows furrowed as he pumped his hips harder and faster. Like he was desperate for this as much as Draco was. Like there was nothing he craved more than being inside Draco. 

It hit Draco when Harry opened his eyes in post-orgasmic haze, starlit emerald eyes telling more than words ever could. 

I hate you; I hate you; I love you. 

Draco came as he looked into Harry’s eyes, with Harry’s name falling from his lips like sinful and heavenly poetry all at once. 

[starlitsilvereyes]

Draco’s eyes had been freckled with the colour of sea glass when Harry first told him he loved him.

They stood by the edge of the cliff, overlooking the vastness of the world; the golden sunlight kissed warmly at Harry’s skin, but it could never compare to his lover’s lips against his.

He cried by the shore when fate had taken Draco away from him. He wept until his throat was raw and all he could ever mouth was his name.

Now, Harry yearns for the sea, but most of all, he yearns for him.

I am once again yearning for the sea

[partycrouchwrites]

this meme post was 2 months old look at me go || “Don’t worry, it’s not real. It’s all a dream.” {jane and chris} // “You’re the light of my life. Please don’t go.” {jane and cal}

“Don’t worry, it’s not real. It’s all a dream.”

“I know that. I’m not a child.” Chris replied bitterly. He sighed as he looked at Jane. It wasn’t the first time she had caught him wandering around after a nightmare, and, unfortunately, it probably wasn’t the last. The nightmare that woke him up wasn’t even that bad. His parents had apparently decided that he was dead, and his death made the news. The part that made it terrifying was Chris realizing that it killed any chance of him reuniting with his family. He’d had nightmares far worse. But this one struck a different chord because it could so easily leak into reality. "Sorry, Jane. I just- I wish my mind would shut up, you know?" With a single look Chris could tell that she understood. They shared a small smile before going their separate ways. Chris went back to his room and collapsed onto his bed. Maybe this time he'd be able to get some sleep.

“You’re the light of my life. Please don’t go.”

It wasn't remotely the appropriate time for it, but Calix had to say it. Occasions where Jane provided him with such a golden opportunity for a pun related to his powers were rare. "No, Jane, I'm the darkness in it." He smiled sadly as he said it. Lately, it wasn't exactly untrue. They could hardly exist in the same room for long before one of them brought it up and they began arguing. Cal hated arguing with Jane. Mostly because she was really good at it, but she also managed to make him feel so terrible about it. He knew she wasn't doing it on purpose, but Calix hated making anyone feel horrible. Especially Jane. But he couldn't continue living there if they were going to keep arguing. Cal wasn't willing to give in to her side. Normal humans were terrible. They hated them, and they always would. Jane's idea of equality wasn't fair to mutants. Mutants had suffered for years, and it was about damn time that mutants saw justice. He was going to make sure of it. Safe Haven was fantastic, but they deserved better. "Like it or not Jane, I'm leaving in the morning. Some of the others are coming with me."

[alicnrps-blog]

[text]: shit shit shit && [text]: any new book recommendations? && [text]: wait, what? for matty and violet!!

[text]: shit shit shit

[text]: ????[text]: are you okay?[text]: an english student normally tends to be better with words, vi

[text]: any new book recommendations? 

[text]: a bloody great one[text]: have you tried the bible?

[text]: wait, what?

[text]: i just wanted to know if you wanted to hang out [text]: my father’s driving me mad [text]: it’s no big deal if you don’t[text]: you probably have other plans, it’s cool honestly forget it

[starlitsilvereyes]

Let’s talk about how Albus Dumbledore was also involved in the making of the villain, Lord Voldemort, also known as Tom Riddle, an orphan boy he found at a muggle orphanage in 1938.

The first time Dumbledore meets Tom, he tells him about the existence of magic. During the conversation, Tom tells him directly, and in exact quotation, that he can make bad things happen to people who were mean to him, and he can make them hurt, if he wants.

Tom has clearly only ever known of a world without love — sure, the worker at the orphanage tells Dumbledore that Tom is a strange child, but there are always two sides of a story. This makes me think of the possibility that Tom was also treated badly at the orphanage, by other children and by adults, and he just happened to fight back. But of course, I won’t claim that he was abused because there is no canonical evidence of it. (Although, I headcanon him as so.)

Moving back to canonical narrative, Dumbledore’s first mistake was telling Tom that he’s just like him too, right after Tom tells him that he can make people hurt. Children of Tom’s age at the time can be influenced very easily, and Dumbledore gains his trust instantly by proving to him that he is capable of magic by setting his wardrobe on fire.

Dumbledore teaches Tom the existence of magic by showing him that it can be used for more violence, to make people hurt even more, rather than showing him the positive aspects of it.

When Tom was attending Hogwarts, he was sent back to the orphanage every Summer, for seven years, during the Second World War.

Dumbledore could have kept him at Hogwarts during the time to protect him from harm, and he was more than capable too, given how many rooms there is at the school, but he didn’t. Because during this time, Tom has started to gather praise for being the Heir of Slytherin, and he was also doing particularly well in his studies and even became a prefect. Considering how Dumbledore is on the darker side of morally grey, instead of being proud of Tom for all his achievements, he saw him as someone with a potential to be manipulated by reminding him that it was Dumbledore who gave him a form of escapism from his horrible life in the muggle world.

Tom probably noticed that he was being manipulated by Dumbledore, yet he did not know it was wrong for he has trouble understanding morality, so he proceeded to manipulate others in return, thinking he will never amount to anything if he didn’t become the most powerful — all because the existence of magic was taught to him in a way that implied that magic equals to power and wrath by Dumbledore.

Yes, Tom was born out of a love potion, out of literal sexual abuse by a witch towards a muggle man, and it is canonically stated that he cannot feel love because of it (which I think is a very fucked up concept, Fuck you JK Rowling), but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t capable of ever being kind and compassionate.

Tom Riddle only became the villain he was known to be, Lord Voldemort, when Albus Dumbledore decided that he was unredeemable.

And when Dumbledore himself couldn’t stop Lord Voldemort anymore, he molded other people into his weapons to be used in a war that wasn’t even theirs to fight in the first place — which leads to the stories of everyone mentioned above.

Just like Slughorn, Albus Dumbledore collects people. Only, instead of focusing on those with influence, he looks to the outcasts.

The expelled half-giant. The young werewolf. The repentant Death Eater.

He protects them and gives them a second chance. All he asks in return is their loyalty.

And, if on occasion he requests that they undertake a certain task, invoking their debt of gratitude - well, that is no more than he is owed.

He once thought to add a certain disowned Black to his collection, but quickly realised his mistake.

Sirius is not an outcast, but a rebel. He knowingly chose his path, and chooses what price he is willing to pay for it. He refuses to be used.

So Albus Dumbledore abandons him.

[zyndaya-blog]

✨ !!

YAY thank u sm !!!

the song that came on is ‘5 AM’ by kwamie liv and my fave line from it is “everybody’s hiding in the neon lights, this city is a jungle better learn to fight”

[starlitsilvereyes]

I love it when other characters refer to James Sirius Potter as ‘Jamie’. Like his name is great and all and literally a ship name for your bi dad and gay godfather, Harry ���� but Jamie gives James Sirius an identity outside of being named after Harry’s parental figures; outside of the shadow of the saviour's son and his quidditch captain mum.

James Sirius has his father’s eyes and hair but has his mother’s freckles. Jamie has dyed his hair blue highlights and got an eyebrow piercing from a muggle piercing shop. Jamie likes art and music more than he likes quidditch. Jamie wants to be a musician but not like Celestina Warbeck, more like Mick Jagger from The Rolling Stones. Jamie prefers e-cigarettes rather than traditional ones, despite Teddy telling him it woud rarely make a difference when you’re burning your lungs away.

James Sirius gave Teddy handpicked flowers from Molly’s garden when they were small children. But Jamie gives Teddy a handmade onyx ring set on platinum.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Jamie says. “I’m not proposing yet.”

Teddy laughs, hair turning fuchsia to match the flush on his cheeks. “Love you too, Jamie.”

[starlitsilvereyes]

Hands To Myself

Written for @sapphicmicrofics’s prompt: Hands & @drarrymicrofic's prompt: Slide | Rating: E | Warnings/Tags: Femme Drarry, Dirty talk, Nipple licking, Masturbation, Vaginal Fingering, Squirting, Cunnilingus | Read on Ao3 

A/N: This is my first time writing femslash (I think?) So please let me know what you think! :)

A shaky breath leaves Draco, her stomach coiling with tension as Harry’s emerald eyes pierce daggers into her. Harry sits naked at the edge of their bed, beautifully so, her plump breasts in full view for Draco to admire.

“We don’t have to do it, if you don’t want to,” Harry says. The strain in her voice lets Draco know she wants this as much as her. Has wanted it for a long time. 

“I want to,” Draco replies. The hand that rests on her left thigh slides between her legs, close enough to the wet heat of her cunt but not touching. Not yet. “I want you to watch.” 

Harry licks her lips, raising a hand to push back a curl that’s fallen in front of her eyes, gaze never leaving Draco. 

Draco gasps as she circles her clit lightly with her ring finger. Her hand is cold against the heat of her pussy, eliciting a spark of pleasure that has her rocking her hips, desperate for more. But she wants to take this slow. Wants to prolong it as long as she can. 

She keeps teasing herself, adding another finger, sliding them from her clit and dipping them into her entrance, pulling out before the first knuckle. A string of soft sighs and whimpers fall from her lips, hips shifting with the movement of her fingers. 

“Tell me what to do,” Draco says quietly. She can feel the heat rushing to her cheeks, embarrassment threatening to bloom within her. Neither of them have done this before. “Tell me what you want.” 

Harry opens her mouth, then closes it again, looking deep in thought. “Tease yourself a bit longer. And– here, let me,” She shuffles forward, a warm hand reaching for Draco’s breast. A moan leaves Draco’s mouth as Harry rolls her nipple between her thumb and index finger. “Dip your fingers in, all the way through.” 

Draco follows, becoming wetter as Harry’s hot breath fans over her cheek. 

“Hold them there,” Harry instructs. “Don’t move.” She massages both of Draco’s breasts with her hands, thumbs running over Draco’s pink nipples as she does so. 

Draco wants to close her eyes from the overwhelming pleasure. But she doesn’t want to miss the sight of Harry pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, looking at Draco as though she wants to devour her whole. 

Harry leans down, latches her wet mouth on Draco’s right nipple. Draco howls, her hand involuntarily jerking inside of her. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Harry murmurs against her chest. “All for me.” She tortures Draco longer, not instructing her to do anything but keep her fingers inside of her pussy as Harry laps and bites and sucks at her nipples. 

“Harry,” Draco whines. Her legs are shaking by now, and her fingers are soaked with liquid want. 

“Thought I was the one in charge here?” Harry pulls off, arching a thick brow. 

Draco frowns, fighting the urge to kick her right then and there. “You’re a menace.” 

Harry laughs, sitting up straighter as to get a better view of Draco’s cunt. “Go on, love. Fuck your fingers inside of your pussy.” 

With shaking hands, Draco pulls her fingers out of her dripping cunt. She dips them in again, down to her last knuckles, then scissors them inside of her. Her hips rise from the bed, following the movements of her fingers as she fucks herself faster and harder. “Harry, hnghhhhh, fuck, fuck–” 

“That’s right,” Harry hums. “Fuck yourself like how you want to be fucked.” 

How the fuck is Harry so good at this? 

“Start rubbing your clit with your thumb,” Harry says, breathless. 

Draco does, whimpers when orgasm starts to roll at the pit of her stomach. Harry reaches for one of her legs, hikes it up against her hip, creating a new angle that leaves Draco moaning loudly. She’s so close, so fucking close. She wants to cry from the pleasure of it. 

“Come, Draco.” is all she needs to hear from Harry. Draco does, squirting all over her hand as she moaned Harry’s name through her orgasm. When she comes down from the high, she opens her eyes to see Harry peering down at her hungrily. Heat rushes through Draco’s cheeks, realising the mess she’s made of their bed.

Harry’s darkening eyes travel from Draco’s wet hands and stomach to her breasts, then to her face. “I want to taste you,” she says, sliding down the bed, her face between Draco’s legs as she licks her clean. 

[starlitsilvereyes]

This was supposed to be just a short headcanon but it turned into a 1.6k one shot — oops.

Anyway, content warning for canonical child abuse and neglect and canonical characters death.

It had been the day of Dudley’s fourth birthday.

Harry wakes up in a particularly good mood — he dreamt of running along wildflower fields with a shaggy black dog chasing him as he let out little exclaims of joy; from a distance, the laughter of three people sat under the shade of a Willow tree could be heard within the expanse of the field. He remembers running towards them, their figures becoming clearer with every hurried step: a woman whose ginger hair reminded Harry of the colour of red roses sits on a blanket atop of the grass as she leans over the shoulder of a man who wore thin-rimmed circle glasses, his hair just as curly as his own.

When Harry reaches the shade of the Willow tree, he attempts to jump straight onto the soft blanket, but lands face first onto the rough grass instead.

He could hear the grumble of laughter emitting from the man with light brown hair and a slash of scar on his face as he tries to get up from the ground.

Soon enough, he is lifted up by the man with glasses. “You okay, Harry?” He asks, a hint of laughter still threatening to spill from his lips.

Harry nods enthusiastically, his eyes widening in wonder the moment he sees the black-haired man lifting an apple from the basket without touching it — the fruit floating from its place inside the woven container and into his hand. Beside him sits the man with brown hair smiling adoringly at the dark-haired man.

He looks around the flower field, suddenly wondering where the shaggy black dog went — he frowns when no traces of his playmate appears as he slumps disappointedly on the soft blanket, the red-haired woman’s hand gently caressing his cheeks.

“I think he’s still looking for you, Sirius,” She says, and Sirius grins, about to say something but his words were cut off by the loud thud of creaky wood and the smell of dust falling from above.

It was just a dream.

Harry sits up on his bed, frowning partly because his wonderful dream was interrupted and mostly because of the ringing in his ears when Aunt Petunia emerges from the kitchen.

“Happy Birthday, my dear boy!” She sings an out of tune melody.

Harry perks up at the thought — birthday? Whose birthday was it today?

At three years old, Harry’s just only started to learn the names of the days of the week from an old calendar he found in the corner of his cupboard, so really, he has no idea what occasion it is today.

What if it was his birthday? Harry’s chest fills with the warmth of happiness at the thought — maybe he can eat one full meal for the day instead of leftover scraps! He’s always wanted to try the toast, eggs, and sausages Dudley always eats for breakfast.

Whooping with glee, he pushes the door of his cupboard open, running to the kitchen only to find Dudley being peppered with kisses from Aunt Petunia as Uncle Vernon smiles at them — a cake Harry’s sure is nearly the size of his head sits on top of the table, and he thinks he can recognise Dudley’s name written in blue icing on it.

He smiles, even though it becomes clear that it isn’t his own birthday — maybe they could share the cake? Harry’s never tried cake before, but he’s tasted a little icing from a plate left on the sink once and it had been delicious.

“Happy birthday, Dudley!” Harry exclaims, and all three of their heads turn towards him.

Uncle Vernon sends a glare at him, and the smile immediately drops off Harry’s face as he takes two steps back in fear — he doesn’t want to make him angry, and he didn’t mean to say his greeting too loud, really, he just wanted to say happy birthday to Dudley.

Harry breathes out a sight of relief when they proceed to ignore him — at least they’re not mad — he doesn’t like it when Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia’s mad, because it means he’ll either get hit with a small chair or a spatula or he’ll get locked in his cupboard for long hours.

He continues to stare at them from the doorway as they cut Dudley’s cake — it’s chocolate flavoured, and Harry thinks it might be the best looking cake he’s ever seen — not that he’s seen a lot, he has never attended a birthday party before.

Waiting patiently for him to be invited to eat on the table — because Harry’s learned not to ask for things and wait for them to be offered to him instead — he watches as Dudley takes huge bites out of the cake, and his stomach rumbles in hunger because he hasn’t eaten since yesterday morning.

Soon enough, all that’s left of the cake were the few candles and icing that stuck onto the edge of the plate; Harry’s shoulders sag in disappointment. Maybe next time he’ll get to eat cake, he just has to be patient and wait for his turn.

********* The cotton candy-painted sunset hangs above Pivet Drive; the distant laughter and excitement of children in the garden could be heard from inside the house.

Harry’s currently in the kitchen, trying to gather a stack of glass plates into his tiny hands as Aunt Petunia yells his name — he has been asked to bring a bunch of things to the garden for Dudley’s birthday party — ranging from utensils to children’s chairs. He panics when he hears his name being yelled again, this time, Aunt Petunia sounding more angry, so he tries to hold the plates against his chest instead, his short arms wrapping around the stack as he lifts it up from the kitchen counter.

He’s able to take a couple of steps successfully, that is until one of his arms strain and he tries to adjust them and drops the stack of plates onto the ground instead.

He lets out a startled scream as the plates shatter, one of the glass shards piercing into his left leg, tearing the muscle and making the liquid crimson of blood ooze out of the wound. Harry cries, his cheeks now stained with tears as the pain escalates even further when he tries to move his leg.

“Aunt Petunia!” He yells, not sure if his small voice could be heard from the distance of the garden, but he still tries. “Please, help! Aunt Petunia!”

His chest is heaving with sobs by the time Aunt Petunia gets to him, her face red with anger as she takes in the sight of Harry sprawled onto the floor surrounded by broken plates.

“What did you do, you freak of a child?!” She exclaims as kicks the broken pieces of the plates around in anger, ignoring Harry’s cries of pleas and pain.

“I got an owie!” Harry cries even louder when Aunt Petunia sneers at him in return before turning away and stepping away from him. “Please, it hurts. I’m bleeding.”

Aunt Petunia continues to ignore him, and when she’s on the doorstep of the backdoor leading to the garden, she turns to him, a calm look on her face yet the rage in her eyes makes Harry’s small frame shiver.

“Maybe if you hadn’t been stupid and dropped the plates, I would have helped you,” She says in a mocking sad voice. “Remember, Harry, bad kids like you don’t get to have nice things. You did something wrong today, and you deserve to suffer. Clean yourself up before you even make more of a mess, you aren’t allowed to attend the birthday party anymore.”

“No!” Harry gasps as he tries to stand up but fails, the wound of his leg bleeding even more when he keeps trying; he bites his lip as to hold back a cry and not upset Aunt Petunia even further. “Please, I want to attend the party. I’m sorry! I promise I’ll be good!”

Aunt Petunia ignores him and proceeds to walk away; Harry keeps crying for her, pleading for her to even help him with his bleeding leg, but she doesn’t come back.

When his throat is raw and his breath is dry with his cries of agony, Harry manages to limply crawl towards his cupboard, wincing and whimpering with every small movement of his injured leg.

In the cupboard, Harry tries to find the thin metal stick he’s used before to pick out a splinter from his shoulder when Uncle Vernon hit him too hard with a slab of wood as a punishment for dropping an egg onto the kitchen floor when he was cooking.

He manages to fish out the piece of glass from the wound, and he quickly wraps one of Dudley’s torn shirts onto his leg to stop the bleeding — all while crying his lungs out because of sadness from not being able to attend the birthday party and from the pain of his injury.

Harry spends the rest of the night in the cupboard, only peeking through the small crack of the door so he can hear the melody of the sung happy birthday to Dudley, pretending momentarily that the song is sung for him — he’s never had anyone sing happy birthday to him before.

The stars sing of an unknown lullaby as Harry hums himself to sleep, the melody of a song he barely remembers coming out in heaved breaths from his quivering lips.

“Goodnight, Harry.” He whispers to himself, the rest of the cruel world fading into nothingness when he closes his eyes and falls into a deep slumber, entering a dream where he gets to run along endless flower fields and experience the love he’s never felt in the real world once again.

Also posted on my Ao3, it’s called In Dying Dreams, I Find My Peace

How old do you think Harry was before he finally realised that crying and running to aunt petunia wasn't going to get him the comfort he sought?

[starlitsilvereyes]

take me to church

for @microficmay's prompts: Praise (Day 4) & Climax (Day 14) | Rating: E | CW: Use of religion (catholicism) as kink, Priest Kink, Church Sex | Read on Ao3

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned.” A shaky breath leaves his lips as his knees touch the icy, hardwood floors. 

“To which sin do you apologise for?” The priest, dressed devilishly in black silk, asks. His eyes are whitish silver – as though pure and untouched. 

Pleasure blazes inside of the man who kneels. He parts his lips, and instead of words, forgiveness comes in the form of heated skin against his tongue. 

His breath catches in his lungs as his eyes brim with tears. Blood draws on his palms as he takes in the man deeper. 

A small gasp leaves the priest’s mouth, followed by words rasping against his own throat as he tries to catch his breath. “You are forgiven.” 

The green-eyed man blinks, a smile creeping upon his lips. “Thank you, father.”

ao3 | ko-fi

[starlitsilvereyes]

Lick It Up

Written for @harryjamespotterweek's Day #1 Prompt: Body Worship | Rating: E | Warnings: PWP, Blowjob, Deepthroating, Praise Kink, Cock Worship | Read on Ao3

“You’re so good, Harry,” Draco says, hot breath fanning over the perspiration on Harry’s skin. “So good for me.” 

Draco sinks down to his knees, silver eyes blazing through Harry as pale, aristocratic hands rest on his hips, thumbing at the hipbone through his jeans. Draco’s movements are calculated: the slide of a finger under the leather of Harry’s belt, looping it through the metal buckle; shiny, perfectly manicured nails sliding under the waistband of Harry’s pants; Draco’s warm, silky tongue licking the underside of Harry’s weeping cock. 

“Fuck, Draco,” is all Harry can say, over and over again when Draco’s lips wrap around Harry’s cock, sliding him into Draco’s hot, velvety mouth. 

“I love your cock,” Draco says, pulling off to suck harder on Harry’s tip. “Love the way you fit in my mouth.” He takes Harry in deeper, teeth grazing ever so slightly on Harry’s skin, just the way Harry likes. 

Harry moans when his cock hits the back of Draco’s throat. The sight before him is so filthy and raw a part of him is almost ashamed. Almost. Draco’s eyes roll back when Harry pumps his hips, driving his cock deeper down Draco’s throat. He doesn’t choke on it, just taking it like he was made perfectly for Harry’s dick. Draco’s mouth is so hot and tight and smooth and perfect and– 

Saliva dribbles down Draco’s chin as he gets Harry wetter from root to tip. “Fuck my throat like how you would fuck my hole. Then come inside me. I want it Harry– I want you so bad. Want your come in my mouth. Want you to fill me up.” 

With that, Draco goes back to sucking Harry off like his life depends on it. He takes Harry even deeper, deeper than before and deeper than he’s ever gone. His throat tightens around Harry’s length, holds him there for a few seconds, then pulls off almost to the tip before going back down again. 

Harry is dizzy from the pleasure of it. He grasps the strands of Draco’s platinum blond hair for leverage, grip tightening as he fucks himself in Draco’s mouth as Draco wished. “God, Draco, you’re so perfect– so fucking good for me–” 

And then Harry’s coming with a cry, Draco’s name spilling from his tongue like heavenly sin and Draco just takes it. Takes all of it and sucks Harry harder through his orgasm and swallows all of Harry’s come, licking him until there’s nothing left.

Draco pulls off with a pop, lips red and swollen. “Good?” He has the nerve to ask.

Harry only kneels down to his level and takes Draco’s mouth with his, tasting himself on Draco’s tongue.  

[starlitsilvereyes]

Devil's Charm

Written for @drarrymicrofic’s prompt: Devilish | Rating: E | Warnings: Blowjob, Exhibitionism, Dom/sub undertones | Read on Ao3

Harry looks up, devilishly handsome as he kneels before Draco in a (not so) secluded corner of a club. The flickering lights turn Harry’s unruly hair midnight blue, and as Draco blinks, fiery burgundy. 

Draco inhales sharply as Harry reaches to undo Draco’s belt buckle, fingertips scorching as they graze ever so slightly against Draco’s torso. “Would you be good for me?” Harry blinks, feigning innocence as he pulls Draco’s cock out of his pants. All Draco can do is nod helplessly as Harry takes him in his mouth, lightning green eyes blazing through Draco. 

For you, always for you. 

art commissions: open 🎨