Kayz

doing whatever

[crimkayz]

𝕴𝖓𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖉𝖚𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━

𝐇𝐢, 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐊𝐚𝐲. 𝐈'𝐦 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐬. 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐀𝐨𝟑!

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥, 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫.

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧!

━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━

[crimkayz]

Which Fic Should I Write 😩

Vampire!Tom Riddle x Fem! Reader

Death! (4 Horseman type shi) Tom Riddle x Female Grim Reaper! Reader

Voting ended onJul 3

I am alive!! Life has been busy with college, my job and depression was working overtime but im starting to get better so lets get back into one of my favorite past times, I missed writing! 😋

P.s. - I will write both but I just want to know which yall want to see first :P

[crimkayz]

─☆─Butting Heads─☆─

Summary: Being Head Girl with Tom Riddle seems like it could be beneficial for you until all hell broke loose and you realize why everyone stays away, or at least you should…

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT 18+ mdni, p in v, somewhat public sex, use of legilimency, he is lowkey a cocky shit, teasing, brief dryhumping, pantie stealing, obsessed!Tom, creampie, marking, exhibition, lowkey probably more but I'm tired lol.

A/n: First fic getting back into writing, it's been a while, also my first smuttt! :P Link for Ao3

Word Count: 6k

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When it comes to Hogwarts, plenty of names stick out, but to you, it's Tom Riddle.

A brilliant and very adept wizard of your year. Throughout your years at the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you learned that Tom bested everyone in plenty of subjects, even if he didn’t particularly care for them. You were clever and talented. Most people saw it, though they ignored it, because he surpassed everyone. Head Girl held you to a high standard. You’re in charge of all the prefects, and the position demands a lot from you. At the end of the day, however, it is just another thing people watch you excel at.

 Sure, you had bad days, but nobody's perfect… including the one and only Tom Riddle. 

The two of you used to be friends, or so you thought…When a rumor was started by one of the Knights, Avery, Tom did not even try to preserve your friendship. While the rumor spread, he watched it affect you in everything. Losing the influence you had as prefect and now head girl was most disappointing to you. You tried to work on getting your stride back, but being head girl with Tom as head boy was hard. You both shared similar duties on the grounds of the castle. Sometimes you even had to converse, which was hard since Tom never cared to speak with you, not that you did either. He mainly avoided you. You wondered if he still cared. He mainly spoke with his so-called “friends,” who are essentially his glorified followers. 

After potions class, you walked through the hall briskly, spotting Tom standing near the wall, listening to Avery. He was blabbering about something Tom probably deemed trivial, apparent by his lack of any emotion. As you passed the two, you didn’t even look over. Tom called your name, which caused you to stop walking. You turned to look at him, slightly annoyed. You almost rolled your eyes upon your name leaving his mouth. Once he deemed to have enough of your attention, he opened his mouth. 

“Dumbledore asked us to aid the prefects with patrolling the corridors tonight,” Riddle stated flatly. 

“Any particular reason?” you replied in the same tone, annoyed to even be talking to him, giving him the same treatment of the displeasure he seems to hold for you. 

You stood far enough that other students walked in between the two of you. Something you did to make sure he knew good terms were far from reach with you. As you stood, you watched him struggle not to show his disapproval with your tone. He looked aggrieved and frustrated at more than just the reply that you just vocalized.  

“Slytherin is celebrating the Quidditch win. Dumbledore wants the halls to be clear of lingering students.” Tom says, causing you to roll your eyes. 

“Whatever,” you scoff out, before walking away down the hall. 

Soon… You walk through the halls and patrol near the dungeons where Slytherin's dormitories are. It’s late, the dungeons are dark, lit by candles in the sconces on the walls, and Lumos that lights your wand. You get to a part of the dungeons where most Slytherin students linger due to a passageway leading to a different part of the castle. That's when you spot him, Tom stands near the passageway, his dark figure looming near the doorway. 

“You're not supposed to be over here, Riddle.” You say curtly, narrowing your eyes to make him out more clearly in the dim hallway.

“I finished patrolling where I was supposed to be,” Tom says coldly as he faces you, no longer looking cryptic in the dark lighting. 

“So help the other prefects, not me, we are head students for a reason. I don’t need to be babysat.” You reply, bothered by his constant watchful eye. He always seemed to linger, always watching. You assumed he was making sure you could handle yourself. It's like he wanted a reason to know you're failing at the position, even after everything, it felt like he was rubbing salt into the wound. 

“They’re boring. My time is valuable.” Tom says, stepping into the area that was illuminated by your wand.  

“Since when did you deem me intriguing again? Seems I was boring you all this time.” You reply exasperated, your face showing an unconvincing look. 

“Intriguing is not what I would say; you were never dull,” he replies, as if it were nothing special. Upon seeing the raised brow on your face, he spoke. 

“Oh, don’t let it feed your ego,” he adds, a dry scoff from his lips. 

“You can’t let me have anything, can you?” You retort, annoyed by this whole situation and him. His presence aggravates you, and your past feelings start to burn within you as the words he fall from his lips. 

“If I did, you might be better than me,” Tom utters, though it doesn’t seem like it hurts him to say; he must mean it. He looks at you with his cold stare, the one you used to find comfort in over the years at Hogwarts. 

“I used to be.” You protest, looking around, trying to avoid this interaction. You still cared for him, the two of you were close… closer than he let anyone else. Over the years, it always made you wonder if maybe he did care more than he could say or let on. 

Being close to him was something that seemed so obscure… so far-off. Sure, you two still talk even though it's brief to each other, always talking about duties. You no longer knew him like you had. He wasn’t one for change, yet he let you change his life when you entered. When you would inevitably leave, too. You hadn’t seen the change your absences had on him. Though some nights you wondered if it had, and of course it did. Tom saw you as a prominent person in his life, no matter how close you were now. He knew he had messed up by letting the rumor spread and not talking to you about it; he saw the rift. 

He felt it. 

However, he would never expand on his feelings and emotions toward the situation, or at least that's what you would conclude. 

“It’s different... isn’t it?” Tom speaks lowly, drawing your attention from the dim walls of the dungeon back to his figure standing near you. 

“It has been,” You reply leadenly. The timing of this conversation was not what you wanted. Talking about what occurred between the two of you here seemed wrong. Though also, the more you thought it wasn’t unwanted. The exclusivity of the dungeons and late hours made you care less for it. 

“Things change, I dislike that,” Tom says, controlling his voice, clear to leave no room for misunderstandings. 

“They sure do,” You reply curtly, turning to walk away back to your dorm. He doesn’t stop you, but you do hear him sigh. As you walk back to your dorm, you think back to how things used to be. 

The conversation is ringing in your ears. He appeared remorseful, which was something that happened on rare occasions. When you were friends, his charm wasn’t lost on you; of course, he cared in his own way. Studying is when you is when saw it most. Always grabbing the books he knew you needed or were trying to study. He would lend you notes written out in his orderly neat script. He always met up with you after patrols to tell you something he found in the restricted section or something he learned recently. He enjoyed updating you on the kids sneaking out past curfew. Or even just something someone did that he deemed so witless that day. 

A few nights later, you find yourself patrolling the dark hallways of Hogwarts, something you have become accustomed to. The paintings on the wall move not due to the people in them, but your wand illuminating the hall for a few feet, the shadows dancing as you pass. As your feet lead you to the central tower in the castle. As you walk, your mind is filled with everything occurring with Tom. He won't leave the forefront of your mind. Your feelings are so mixed up and all over the place, you feel unwell. Sure, you understood where the two of you stood with each other, not quite friends anymore. You didn’t hate him. Sure, you did after the incident with Avery, now the feelings have simmered down to nothing but an annoyance of the things he hasn’t said or done. 

You still cared for the asshole. 

Hell, care might not even begin to scratch the surface of what you felt. So many emotions play into what you think about him, yet one feeling persists. Love…no, you think… not quite, maybe a deep fondness of the person he was and maybe still is. 

Tom was never an easy person to understand, though when you spend enough time trying to see him and understand him, it makes all the difference. He enjoys his solitude but also craves some sort of type of connection with something. It could be his followers or the mindless compliments he gets from others from his magnetic presence and the attention circling him. 

You reach the bottom of the stairs, and your shoes against the floor of the castle cause a clicking. Your stride is quick and spirited. Pushing open the heavy door to the library, you make your way in. Seeing the lengthy and far-reaching aisles of mahogany wood bookcases never fails to have you standing in awe. The details of the carved wood display the grandeur of the place. Walking through the dim room of the parchment-filled library always makes you calm. Always stopping here last because it's the best part of this route. Standing in front of the large, imposing gates of the restricted section of the library, stepping in past the gate door, you venture in. Walking through the section, you don’t catch any students wandering in the closed section. You are standing in the last aisle of ancient tombs and shelves of books. 

Tom had his own plans. 

On his venture to the library, where he had known you would linger last, he knew for two reasons. He knows you. Of course, also thanks to the poor prefect, he demanded answers from on your whereabouts since you changed routes to avoid him tonight. He wasn’t having it, not when he finally realized what he lost. 

He knew things had changed, and it was obvious how looks of playful challenge turned to simmering uneasiness or dislike. The rivalry changed from similarities and friendship to disdain. He had known his silence over the rumors had caused a drift, but you were always his. He would never let something like a few lies come between the two of you. Once you had his attention, you never lost it. Since he let you in, it was either you stick by him or death for you was the only other option. He wouldn’t dare let you walk away from him with such knowledge about him and being able to get so close. The feelings he held for you, even if unsaid, wouldn’t let him kill you. The only option to make things work, to make you his again. His stride to the library was cold and calculated. The dark halls allowed him to think about what he wanted to say, if anything at all. The candles illuminating the hall created a glow in the dimness that reminded him of you. Always a source of brightness, he craved to get through his day. As his thoughts drifted to you, he felt warm. 

Uncomfortable. A rising heat. 

Reaching the stairs overlooking the library, he sighed. His thoughts scattered, swirling around his head, filled with you. 

In the rush of emotions and the feelings of prickling uncomfortableness, he reaches for the tie around his neck. Pulling it away a bit to make it looser. He finally feels like he can fully breathe again. Though the feelings don’t fizzle out. He made his way into the library, heading towards the restricted section. He found you standing in the back near a bookshelf with a desk placed or well pushed in front of it, looking around in the dim light for rule-breaking students. The restricted section was messy with old tombs, and piles of books sat in the corners. The candlelight casts shadows in the late hours. He felt uneasy; he wanted this to be a productive conversation, something to ease the feelings you both carried about this rivalry and your past grievances. He knew you heard him walk in. He wasn't exactly quiet, yet you hadn’t faced him, so he spoke. 

 “Taking another route just to avoid me…how trivial for you,” Tom declares. His voice cuts through the silence of the library's air. His tone is sharp; he sounds tense and vexed. 

When you turn to face him, you see the emotions that his voice carries. Looking over his face in the dim incandescence of the candles nearby allowed for a staggering sight. Tom’s face was illuminated by the glow, making him look ravishing even with the slight annoyance showcased in his features. A few small hairs lingered over his forehead. The dark locks adorning his head were messier than usual. He still looked impeccable, the uniform and robe adding to his alluring figure. His tie loosened enough that it gave him more comfort. The stare he had directed toward you was piercing, to say the least. 

“Paying attention?’ He speaks lowly, his voice draws you out of your daze, no longer focusing on his uniform or just him. He is closer now within your reach. 

When you look at him, something has changed in the air, it's…Thick. Dense. 

Something you were not prepared for or expecting. His eyes bore into yours, making you feel inarticulate, unable to think about anything other than him. 

“Back off,” you mutter, finally getting words out. Your tone is sharp, though the heat of your annoyance is nowhere to be found. Those hidden feelings come back to haunt you just like his very presence standing in front of you does. 

“Why would I, when you can’t run away now? I don’t appreciate being ignored, darling,” Tom voices. 

“I don’t appreciate losing my authority and friends over a rumor. A fucking rumor.” You deplore. The simmering annoyance comes back just with every damn feeling he brings out in you. 

Heat simmers with the annoyance, a deadly combo you realize. You watch his brow move, a pointed look he gives you. God. He looks fucking incredible.  

“A rumor. Just a rumor. Never a fact was spoken by Avery’s mouth. In case you are wondering why I didn’t entertain such a foolish thought out of his dense mind.” He speaks low and direct, it always gives you chills hearing him so affected by something. The heat between you two was strong; you both felt it. 

He was annoyed with himself, letting his seeming indifference push you to leave. He never wanted this, for you to no longer be close to him. 

Tom wanted you. 

He thought it was clear all this time, only letting you close, and nobody else. He realized being your friend was momentary; he had always wanted to be yours. For you to be…His.  The heat throughout your body never left. You could smell his cologne, the woodsy scent enveloping you. You saw the emotions swirling in his eyes as he stared at you. The corner of his mouth craned upwards a small bit. He was smirking. 

He knew. That fucker knew. 

“I was worth more than silence,” You mutter the words, almost lost in the charged air around the two of you. 

“You are. Always. Here I stand calling Avery foolish, yet I may be more of a fool for letting you walk away,” Tom says lowly. 

Standing in front of him makes you dizzy… You feel weak. You look over at him. Seeing his tie messed up does something to you. He looks at you like he is hungry, his eyes bore into you, though you don’t look directly at him. Instead, you busy yourself looking at his loose tie and the collar of his shirt, which has been unbuttoned. Seeing his neck makes you want to leave a mark on him. You try to distance your mind from these thoughts, though it hardly works. You lower your head just a bit, your eyes trailing down with it. His hands are now in your view, and you notice his hand twitch as if he wants to reach out to touch you. His stare is still strong, though his smirk says he knows more than you let on. That's when you feel him…in your mind, lingering…searching. 

Something you learned a long time ago, he is very good at using Legilimency. That's when thoughts flood your mind. Your thoughts. The very ones you are trying to hide. Images of you kissing him and trailing your hands all over him flood your mind, playing like a movie. Slowly, the scenes get more intense. Next, you see something unexpected. His thoughts flood your mind like he is letting you in. You see fantasies of you bent over his desk or in his bed, bound by magic. You try to block him out, though his smirk gets wider. 

“Ah. Interesting,” He says, his voice lower than before, closer to a whisper.

 He leans closer to you. Still not touching you and it's torture. He knows what you want and what he does.

You deem it not enough for how you currently feel. The heat pooling below your stomach makes you desperate. Somehow, you hold on to the last shred of control you have. You want to make this hard for him, too. A punishment for how things played out between the two of you.

“Tom-” You start placing your hands on his chest to push him away. His eyes spark with amusement, though he is slightly taken aback. He quickly grabs your hands, stopping you.

“Don’t you even dare.” He says desperately through a command, nonetheless. 

You smirk slightly before looking at him. He looks back with his gaze like he can’t bear to look away from you. He seems to feel an insatiable need for you. He leans in, his hips jutting out to meet yours, which in return locks yours. You rest between him and the desk connected to the bookcase. You hear a sigh leave his lips softly, easily missed, but the silence lets it hit your ears. You feel the bulge in his trousers pressing deliciously against your thigh as he leans into you. He smirks, watching your face change as you react to the feeling of him against you. The pressure of his hips on yours isn't enough. He wants the control, the need to keep you here, and his need is overbearing. You look at him before grabbing his tie and forcefully pulling him into a kiss. Desperate and rough. The kiss is anything but sweet; the need between you both is too strong to be delicate. His lips against yours are demanding, a lust-filled need takes over him.

You taste the way you look, perfect. His. 

He bites into your bottom lip, calling you back to reality after the kiss, after whisking you off somewhere else. You could only see him, feel him. He was everywhere. He groans into the kiss. His hands grip your waist with fervor and control. His fingers dig into your skin, the harshness of his touch and kiss making you melt into him. You let a moan fall from your lips as his lips turn into a smirk against yours. You felt the goosebumps; he was haunting you. Your hands tangle in his hair, messing up his hair. In return, a low groan makes its way out of his mouth.  

“God, you look like fucking vision,” Tom whispers into your ear. One of his hands comes to your neck, his fingertips trailing the base of your neck. 

“You're watching me like always,” you reply, though your attempt to be casual fails. Your breath hitched, and you're still trying to recover from the kiss. 

He thinks nothing he had ever imagined looked or felt this good. Your hands grip his shoulder, trying to ground yourself as you lean against the table's edge. You feel his hand slide down to the first button on your uniform. You watch him focus on unbuttoning your shirt, and you feel it fall away from you. He looks down, admiring the sight of your breasts covered by your bra. The air from the library hits your skin. His fingertips trail over the skin of your stomach, causing more goosebumps in their wake. He kisses you this time slower but still as demanding. Tom loves control, but he still loses himself in the taste of your lips. His hands grip your hips, his fingers dig into your skin like he needs to prove you're real. Your hands trail down his chest to his waistband, and you feel the cold metal of his belt buckle on your fingertips. He watches you as your fingertips mess with his belt mindlessly as you catch your breath. 

“Something you want?” Tom teases his voice low, cutting through the silence. 

“For you to shut up and kiss me again.” You taunt. 

Tugging him in close for another kiss by his belt. Once again, feeling him pressed against your thigh, hard. The kiss was even slower than the last, his hands wandering around your waist and slowly moving upwards. His thumbs stop just under your bra. You smirk against his lips as he huffs out a breath, clearly annoyed at your words and holding back from losing control. You know he wants to make a stupid ass comment back but holds back to not ruin the moment, and as he enjoys the view in front of him. You feel his hands wander down to the back of your thighs as he lifts you onto the desk he was pressing you into. Your back hits the bookshelf, your bare shoulders feeling the spines of the books as you watch him run his hands up your thighs to the hem of the edge of your skirt. He pushes your legs wide enough for him to step between them. 

He is stunned. 

He hardly was thinking things would go this way, but lord, is he glad. He would never voice his need or the fact that he craved his moment for a while. You knew he was possessive, but the way his hands claim you tells you enough about how he feels. Since he is unable to utter a word, instead, he chooses to stare at your legs spread before him. He watches his hand disappear under your skirt, his fingertips graze your inner thigh teasingly he feels the heat between your thighs. He gives a small smirk, knowing exactly what he is doing. You tease him back, rolling your hips into his, feeling exactly what you're doing to him, his need for you. He lets out a groan at your movement. He is slowly finding it hard to stay in control, having the wonderful feeling of you pushing against him. His hands land on the desk on either side of you as he leans in, his lips grazing your neck. 

“Stop that right now.” He says demandingly, his voice low and gravelly against your neck. 

He is frustrated by your teasing and the earlier remarks; it simmers under the feelings of arousal, you can tell by the firm grip he has on your thighs, pushing them even farther apart roughly. He steps back enough to quickly make work of his belt by prying it off. His brows are furrowed in concentration. His hands travel under your skirt, pushing it to your waist. You catch his intense gaze at the soaked patch on your panties. 

“Look at that, huh…seems like you do want me more than I thought,” Tom says, his tone teasing.

He slips them down your legs slowly, quite the opposite of how he just took off his belt. You always see the small ways he takes control through his grip or the way he brings your attention back to him subtly. He realizes he starts to crave control over you like this; it's different from your rivalry, and yet he may just enjoy it more. Seeing you like this is something he had wished to see. He didn’t think about the control how he would feel. Not that his possessiveness is new, it's just that this is intense; he realizes. This is real. 

You will be his. 

Tom didn’t waste time, something he was good at. He always chose to be efficient, but even with that, he was trying to savor the moment. Committing it to memory in hopes of playing it back. Your eyes raked over him, you saw the slight change in his brow, the gaze falling from his eyes upon your now unclothed folds, ready for him. He looks up at you, the two of you making eye contact before he unzips his pants as he leans in to kiss your jaw, slowly down your neck, one of his hands rests on your shoulder next to the base of your neck. His thumb gently pressed over the hollow of your throat. As you kiss, you feel the head of his cock rub against the place you need him most. You let out a breathy moan at the feeling of him rubbing against you teasingly. He takes a deep breath at the contact, almost as if to ground himself from losing control. 

Though control is lost when he finally thrusts into you slowly. He groans at the feeling of you wrapping around him. You slightly wince at the feeling of him pushing into you, though that only lasts so long when you hear him sucking in a breath. Your hands find the back of his neck, toying with the hair on the back of his head. You lean in, biting at his neck like you had wanted to upon seeing his exposed neck earlier. He groans as you mark him. He enjoys the feeling of your lips all over him. 

“Fuck… You're mine. All mine. So gorgeous for me, darling.” Tom grits out as he thrusts harder into you. 

“All yours, Tom.” You reply breathlessly. He likes that, hearing you say his name in such a manner. His dick twitches at your words, hearing you so willing to give him the control he craves. 

His hand on your hip, his grip almost cruel. It slips to your back to keep you upright on the desk as he pounds into you, his control lost. The hand that was placed near your throat slides down between your legs as his thumb mindlessly presses into your clit. You moan, your head falling back into the bookcase behind the desk. He leans over you slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts as he lets his lips ghost over yours. 

“So good,” You blab out, as he fucks you into the bookcase, the desk under you creaking from his thrusts. 

“You feel so good, sweetheart,” Tom says. His voice is low in your ear. As he leans over you, he kisses down your neck to where your bra sits. He marks you up as you did him. 

His teeth grazing over your neck, biting down. He groans, knowing you're his, at least for this moment, he isn't sure what will come after this. He doesn’t care about that now, though he is too busy focused on your moans and the way you feel wrapped around him. He can feel himself getting closer to the edge as he knows you are too. Your moans are louder, and he can feel you pulsing around him, spurring him on. He can’t let you be too loud. Not in the library like this, so he presses his hand to your mouth. Shutting you up as you moan into his palm. 

“Can’t be too loud now, wouldn't want anyone else to hear..” He mutters darkly through a groan, his possessive side coming out at the control he has over you. 

He watches you throw your head back and moan into his palm as you both get closer to finishing. You roll your hips into his. Creating more friction between the two of you as you get closer to your orgasm. His pace doesn’t slow as he chases his release with you. His breathing labored as he watched you savoring the moment. Tom’s eyes rake over your chest, watching it as you breathe heavily, his gaze then focused on where he pounds into you. He can feel you getting closer, he feels you clenching around him as your orgasm builds. 

It’s hot…heated. 

For you, it's warm all over, a blazing heat as he marks his claim on you. Your bodies are covered in a light sheen of sweat, the warmth between you both still palatable. His hair sticks to his forehead as he pants for air through his thrusts. The glistening shine on you only makes you look even more…

 ruined. 

He enjoys the view of you arched off the bookcase as your legs are spread over the desk as you lean upon it. It only fuels his hunger for you, something that's been in his mind since you became friends in the first place, even if he didn’t realise. He watches as your head tilts back into the bookcase. He feels your moans in his palm. He stares at you, leaning back in, his lips pressing into the nape of your neck. He speaks in a low tone clearly holding on for you. 

“Come on, darling,” Tom grumbles. 

His fingers work you to your climax as he watches. A smirk lingers on his face as he focuses on you. Seconds after the words leave his lips, you're moaning into his palm as you cum. As you clench around him, he groans following the chase of his orgasm. His hips stutter just as his breath does, with how you feel clenching around him. The feeling of everything brings him closer and closer as his thrusts lose their rhythm. He feels your walls clenching him in as his dick twitches in you as he reaches his high. The growl leaving his lips low is almost a satisfied hum. You feel his cock pulsing inside of you as he releases. You feel his cum filling you the way he does. He feels you sucking him in, making his climax that much more delicious. 

Which in return helps satiate his hunger for you. He takes his hand from your mouth to let you breathe and catch up. He smirks as he watches you catch your breath on the desk. You look at him, trying to focus back on reality.  

“Feeling alright? Glad I followed you.” He teases smugly, proud of himself, also trying to take away from how he feels and how unraveled he is. You roll your eyes. Yet a small smile forms on your face. 

“I'm sure you are.” You speak softly, still trying to calm down. 

As you both fix your uniforms back to looking somewhat presentable, you glance over at him. His hair is messy and somewhat sticking to his forehead. His uniform is no longer perfect like it always is. Standing in the dark, dim lights of the restricted section, it seems words are no use. 

You both know what you have done, left each other, ruined. 

He left you panting, bruises in places you can’t exactly hide perfectly. You do your best for the time being by pulling your collar up. Yet deep down, he also claimed you, leaving his mark. You did too. You leave him ruined in a different sense. A deeper way. You can tell by the way he looks at you without voicing a word, like he is still assessing what occurred. Deep down, he is conflicted. You’re the only person he has let in like this, with such intimacy. He doesn’t fear it, yet something stirs in him. He feels uncertain. Treading on a line of not wanting to lose you by messing things up, yet a need to have you as his. He knows what he will pick. It will not be easy. Love was never something he could feel. Though now it feels close to something he harnesses for you. Obsession is closer, but the feelings mixing in are new. There is a feeling of a deep connection, one he doesn’t want banished. 

You glance at him, offering a small smile. He seems to soften at it, almost a touch of relief. He waves you on, though you see the ghost of a smirk. You start to walk out of the library as he trails a few steps behind you. You start to realize why he was smirking. Now, why he trails behind you. He is watching you walk. You realize why. His release starts to slowly make its way onto your inner thighs. You can’t believe you forgot to find your underwear. Slowly, you start to get nervous about the fact that maybe someone will find them, and that you're about to walk out into the hall where the other prefects linger. The slick between your legs is a reminder of what happened and does not ease your nervousness. You slow down before you exit the library, that is, until you feel Tom's hand on your back. Firm and almost pushing you towards the door. 

“Keep walking, darling.” He mutters low into your ear, seeing your nervousness. 

You swallow. The feelings bubbling in your chest at his words and how they make their way into your mind. You take the first step as he guides you, hand at your lower back, until you reach the door. Pulling the golden brassy handle as the door opens. You see the prefects waiting around clearly at the end of their patrol. 

“Where have you been? Did something happen?” One of the prefects said, her voice in a light questioning tone. 

“The bookcase in the back of the restricted section was tampered with. Spent time fixing the books. Rearranging them.” Tom says in a cool tone, redirecting the prefect's gaze to him as he steps closer. 

You can hear it in his voice. The smugness in his tone, the accomplishment he feels. He stands one step behind you, imposing over you. His eyes are on the prefect as she stands before the both of you. You can see her get uneasy at his gaze. She nods, clearly a bit taken aback by Tom's tone as she steps away. She gathers back with the rest of the prefects nearby. 

You glance at Tom with a small smirk on his face. He offers one last glance towards you before he turns and walks away. Leaving you there to stand with the other prefects, with him dripping down your inner thighs. You thank the darkness and the late hour, making it harder to notice his marks and the way your cheeks are still probably flushed. You glance up, looking to where he ascends the staircase. As you watch him walk off, that's when you see something stuffed into his back pocket: your underwear. You almost don’t catch it with his cloak flowing and the dim lighting, yet it barely peeks out enough to notice. That bastard stole them, leaving you to deal with it. Your gaze narrows as you stare into the back of his head. You know he feels it. Yet he keeps walking with his stride, proud and accomplished. 

You feel the claim he has made. You both do. 

He knows you're his and he is yours. 

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ·˖✶ ✦　　

[pieisstillgood]

══⊱≼Forbidden Pursuits≽⊰══

━━⊱♡⊰━━

Summary: An unlikely friendship sparks between Draco and a Gryffindor reader. Over the summer, he invites you over with a few other friends. You see his father in some compromising positions late at night and are left feeling guilty and conflicted.

Author's note: I will also be uploading my fics on Ao3 if you prefer to read there. I upload there after I upload here, I will include a link once it is up there. I hope ya'll enjoy <3

☆Here is the link to it on Ao3☆

Shout out to my beta reader @crimkayz <3 love you pookie

Content warning: Sexual content, masturbation, Voyeurism, F/M

━━⊱♡⊰━━

I’ve known of Draco for years. It’s hard not to when he is so vocal about his hatred for my house and all who were sorted into it. Last year, however, we became unlikely friends. After a quidditch game gone wrong, he was left injured and in need of someone to carry him to the infirmary. The Slytherins on his team aren’t kind enough for such an act, and the Gryffindors all hold a grudge against him, so no one was rushing to volunteer. I rolled my eyes and reluctantly took on the role. I expected the walk to be quiet except for his usual whining, but he surprised me with a charming enough conversation. We became fast friends after that, although it was a strange sight.

 Friends enough that he invited me over for a stay during the summer at Malfoy Manor. Apparently, he invites a handful of his friends from Hogwarts over for a getaway before the next school year starts. I’d be the first that isn’t a Slytherin to be invited, which I suspect to be a point of contention with some of the guests and maybe his parents. Although, I doubt it will matter as much as my blood status. I wonder if they will beat around the bush or ask me directly. It’s likely they already interrogated Draco about the status of all his guests if I am being realistic. They don’t seem the type to be inviting over anyone they deem ‘less than’.

When I arrive at Malfoy Manor, I make sure to take in its grandeur when exiting my carriage. I’ve lost count of the expensive homes I’ve been to in my life, but this takes the cake. The architecture alone exudes status and a foreboding atmosphere. When I was younger, my parents tried to stress the importance of making connections and going to high-status events, but after a while, I wore them down enough to stop forcing me to go. I found them incredibly boring and a waste of my time if my parents were to already be there chatting to high society. The consequence being that not many people know that they have a daughter my age.

Draco rushes over to give me a hand stepping out of the carriage. I notice a few other carriages pulled over to the side while their bags are being collected by servants and taken inside. I'm glad I’m not the first to arrive, and it seems that I am not the last if my count is correct. “Who’s missing?” I jest towards Draco as I find my footing on solid ground, and he releases my hand. “Pansy and Blaise have yet to arrive.” He eagerly replies. I can tell that he hopes his friends will become my friends after this weekend, but I have serious doubts. “You know Pansy will be last; she can’t resist the idea of everyone waiting for her to make a grand entrance,” I joke into Draco’s ear, not wanting anyone to hear my joke at the other guests’ expense. He hummed in amusement and agreement. I feel as though he was about to add onto my assumption, but we were entering the manor now, and it is not a good look. 

I want to make a good first impression, not only so that me and Draco can continue being friends, but also because I cannot bring any kind of dishonour to my family name. I would never hear the end of it from my parents otherwise. His parents are standing in the foyer with equally unimpressed expressions resting on their faces. His father is standing straight and impervious. His robes are elegant and dark, his large hands wrap around the snake head of his cane, the expensive looking rings on his fingers accentuate the veins of his hands. He is taller than me, with gorgeous long snowy hair, you can tell it is well kept, it looks soft to touch and makes me long to feel its soft caress. He emanates an intimidating energy around him as he looms. His wife is leaning away from him slightly, easily missed, but the expression on her face cements the idea that she would rather not be standing here next to him in my mind. 

They both put on impressively fake smiles when our approach becomes known. I curtsey, saying the usual pleasantries and thank yous. The interaction was stiff and uncomfortable. Behind their formalities was an underlying disinterest from the wife and a piercing gaze that felt like it could read my very soul from the husband. In high society it is impolite for a gentleman to not greet a lady with chaste kiss on her hand, but that seems to be something this man deems to be too lowly for him. Draco directed me to my room to get unpacked as I try to shake the awkward interaction. 

It was already later in the day when I arrived at the manor; the sky starting to bleed a deep cornflower. From light to dark, the gradient carved its way across the horizon until it was void of color entirely. When Pansy finally arrived, last as predicted, we gathered for a late dinner. The table is long and imposing, the dramatic nature of this seating arrangement is not lost on me as dark theatrical shadows are cast across the room from the candle lighting. I can’t tell if it is supposed to be menacing or romantic. 

I haven’t said much to anyone except for Draco since arriving. I am more content in taking in the dynamic I find myself in for now. I don’t know anyone here but Draco, so I don’t know how to talk to anyone but Draco. My eyes stayed down, looking at the expensive meal that graced our plates. Crabbe and Goyle lack the manners and restraint to take their time and savor such an opportunity. Scarffing down their meals like they’d starve without it. Everyone was much more casual about the food before them, everyone but the head of the table. His bites almost seemed calculated, like the sawing of his knife was used to enunciate his point, and the stabbing of his fork was to drive home his frustrations.  

Everything about him felt measured. From his movements to his words. He steered the conversation to whatever subject he found interesting with smoothness and ease. It was as if he was changing the channel and our chatter his entertainment. Pansy was in the middle of a tirade I wasn’t paying particular attention to. She was complaining as usual. “Those loud Gryffindors don’t know when to shut up. I swear they win one game and it’s all anyone talks about!” I’m sure she would prefer it if everyone spent their time talking about her. I hold back a scoff and an eyeroll at her dramatics. It takes everything in me to hold my tongue and not retort back; I’m trying to be on my best behavior after all. 

Lucius, I think his name is, replies to Pansy in agreement. “Yes, I’ve found that those in that house lack a certain… humility.” I can feel his pointed glance in my direction without having to look up. My eyes rise from their downward position as I give Draco a sideways glance, as if to say, did I hear that right? He looks at me almost pleadingly to not say anything, but it is too late as I lose my restraint. “That’s rich coming from the man who raised Icarus over there.” I gesture to Draco as I engage in the glaring contest initiated by his father.

Contempt was the only motivation in my glower. His held something more I couldn’t read. He seems to be always calculating, always analyzing. For a moment, the table waits with bated breath, wondering if my stay at Malfoy Manor will be shorter than expected. A small smirk plays on his lips; I can hear Draco let out a sigh of relief as his father apparently found my comment amusing. 

“Oh yes, we all heard about Draco’s little fall last year.” He looks on teasingly at Draco as he takes a sip from his wine glass. His metal rings make a small tink at the contact. “You must be the Gryffindor who walked him to the infirmary?” His eyes return to me with a raised eyebrow. “More like carried him, but all the same, yes,” I confirm while also taking a turn to tease Draco a bit. Small smirks played on both of our lips before the conversation continued, with the rest of the table finally chiming in.

When dinner was over, Draco led the five of us to one of the many lounges in Malfoy Manor so we could shoot the wind without an authority figure around.  As time went on, I found myself almost enjoying the company of Draco’s friends. Pansy is bossy, Blaise thinks he is better than everyone, and well Crabbe and Goyle are what they are, but from time to time, I find that they can be agreeable and even funny. We all spent a few hours chatting together until, one by one, everyone made their leave for the night. When I left, Blaise and Draco were all that remained, and even they looked like they were about to fall asleep on the very chairs they sat upon.

On my way to my room, I decided to make a pit stop in the kitchen for a glass of water. The sight before me makes me freeze in my tracks. I can’t bring myself to move from the kitchen doorway. Lucius Malfoy is standing before me in the dimly lit room with his back facing me, in only a towel. Candlelight dances across his pale flesh, left with a pink dusting brought on by what I assume to be a scalding shower. His hair is soaked and sticks to his admittedly toned back. A water droplet rolls down from his locks over the curve of his back, until it hits and gets absorbed into the low hanging towel wrapped around his waist. 

His hands are gripping the edge of the kitchen sink as he leans slightly over the counter, just enough to arch his back faintly, with his shoulder blades tense and prominent. He is soaked head to toe, he must’ve barely toweled himself off before exiting the bathroom to head to the kitchen. I can see his huffy reflection in the window as everything outside is dark and opaque. 

His expression is burdened and serious. A few wet strands of hair fall onto his face; his eyes are closed as he thinks about whatever is troubling him. His pectorals are pushed together just so, making them more plush. The counter cuts off the view of his lower abdomen, but I can see a peak of a happy trail centered by the symmetrical curves of the v-line that adorn his hips. He let out a low, displeased groan before slicking back the offending strands in his face. His eyes open as he stares at his reflection. It almost feels like he is staring straight into my very being, like I am the one exposed and bare to the world and not him. 

I force myself to finally remove myself from my spot in the doorway and go back to my room. My inner wants compelled me to stay and gawk some more, but my better judgment took my hand and peeled me from my position. My mind continued to wander and race even late into the night when I should’ve been sleeping. Slumber did eventually take me, but it was not very restful. It wasn’t until the morning that a truly horrifying thought crossed my mind. If I could see his reflection, then he surely could see mine. 

~~~

I didn’t see her reflection at first, blending into the shadows of the hallway. Once I saw her, however, I couldn’t look away. Her form leans against the doorframe to support her weight. The skirt she is wearing is long, but so is the slit running up its side, allowing her leg to taunt me as it stands out, exposed. Her top is as tantalizing as the rest of her, the thin straps leaving her shoulders on display, and the semi-low cut of her neckline makes me yearn for a better view of what it is hiding from me. She is possessed by a hungry expression, like a lion about to pounce on its prey. After a moment, she is gone, and I am left wondering what would have happened if I had said something. 

~~~

The thought of going downstairs and eating breakfast with everyone there made me lose my appetite immediately. I couldn’t stomach the idea of sitting at the same table as him and his wife after seeing him in such a state of undress. I don’t know how I am meant to face Draco after witnessing his father’s astounding physique. I close my eyes and am met with vivid visions of Lucius Malfoy practically naked and drenched.  

When Draco comes to collect us for breakfast I tell him I’m gonna sleep in and skip it. It is not too unusual for me to skip breakfast if I was up late the night before, so he has no reason to be suspicious of the act. A few hours later I convinced myself that it was likely that he didn’t even see me in the doorway last night, and the only one aware of my new confliction is me. I joined Draco and his friends for the rest of the day. 

They seem more accustomed to my additional company today, so I felt more comfortable to tease and converse in return. My biting and witty remarks are met with loud, boisterous laughter, which is always what I crave, being able to banter without worrying about hurt feelings or overstepping. Every once in a while, his father would come by to have a word with Draco; I could feel all I had to say die in my throat whenever he approached. I couldn’t bring myself to speak even if I was talking to someone else when he got close. Mostly, I was able to avoid him altogether, so it wasn’t much of a problem.  

Honestly, today went better than expected. Pansy and I did have a bit of a spat, but she didn’t hurt my feelings all that much. Everything she said were all things I already knew she thought about me, so I wasn’t shocked to hear it out loud. I figured I’d give her some time and space to cool down, so I am going to bed. 

Or at least I am trying to; I got a bit lost when finding my room in such a big manor. One wrong turn and all I encounter are offices and libraries. Up ahead, I see presumably another office door cracked open, but this one has a flicker of light shining through. Hopefully, I can ask whoever is inside for directions, no matter how embarrassing. When I got closer to the doorway, the sight and sound of what I was observing completely captivated me. 

Reminiscent to the night before, I am thoroughly stuck in place, not able to draw my eyes away.  There he sits… His head thrown backwards, Adam's apple bobbing up and down with every moan and groan that passes his swollen lips. His side profile is on full display as he gets to work in his office chair. His hair tied in a messy bun, loose strands sticking to his forehead, making him look wild and disheveled. His mouth hangs open in desperation, longing to crash his lips against another's. Drool collects in the corner of his mouth before descending down his neck. 

The view of his glistening chest is unobscured due to his dress shirt being unbuttoned and hanging loose at his sides. He works with unrestrained fervor as he pumps his length with his massive hands. Rings missing from the hand at work as they lay on the desk before him. His other hand remains wearing his rings as he violently grips the arm of the chair. The veins in his hand and arms straining from the pressure. 

His trousers are still on, like he lost his patience and ripped them open, not bothering to take them off. His broad thighs are spread apart, pulling the fabric of his tight-looking dress pants. I find myself fantasizing about him enveloping my head with them. A heat rises within me that I have yet to gather enough sense to feel ashamed of. The sight of him rubbing his cockhead until completion makes me long to participate. He’s panting, breathing ragged with half lidded eyes as ribbons of cum coat his hand and abdomen. A pink tint compliments his face. He is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. I could drink in the sight for ages, but I know the longer I stand here, the more likely I’ll be seen. 

I should go. Not just from this spot in the hallway but from the manor itself. Now rushing down the corridors until I find my room; the realization of what I’ve done has hit me tenfold. There is no way I can spend any more time here with a vision like that haunting me. He is my friend's father! Worst of all, he is married! I am wracked with guilt for wanting him in any way that isn’t appropriate for a man of his standing. 

I barely slept that night; my thoughts and dreams were filled with his glorious apparition. My desire to have him in this very bed torments me. I roll over and imagine the pillow beneath me as his chest; I roll again, and suddenly, the blanket’s weight is his own as he covers me in his hold. I can’t help but see and feel him in everything I do, and I only get more and more bothered.  

~~~

I had almost forgotten her starved expression in the kitchen the night before if it wasn’t for her lack of presence at breakfast this morning. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit disappointed to see that she wasn’t there. Her boldness at dinner was… intriguing, to say the least. I had hoped she'd have more snarky comments to bestow upon me this morning, but she was nowhere to be found. Draco said that she had stayed up too late the previous night and wanted to sleep in. I wonder what had her so… restless?

When she finally decided to grace us all with her presence, it was hours later, and breakfast was long over. She descended the staircase in a deliciously felicitous dress. Likely worn to combat the summer heat, but it only brought on a different heat entirely. I watched as Blaise led her to where the others were waiting for her in the other room. I went back to reading the book I was previously occupying myself with, but focus was hard to come by as I read and re-read the same line of ink again and again. Something about their interaction irked me; I just couldn’t place why. 

Throughout the day, I found it increasingly difficult to keep my distance from Draco’s new friend; making excuses to talk with Draco so that I could see her. Whenever I got close, her boisterous personality dimmed and quieted. It was mesmerising to witness, as her witty remarks halted in their tracks and her eyes rapidly reverted from me. It was a striking contrast to her unabashed staring last night; the only similarity was the rosy hue lighting her cheeks. 

It took everything in me to not pounce on her when she was in my view, to not tease her uncharacteristic meekness in front of all her little friends. I decided it was better to hide myself away in my office than lose my self-restraint in front of a crowd. The sun has set, and I am sure most are asleep anyway. I need a release, or I worry I might do something rash. 

I rip my clothes open, discarding anything in my way. I am quick to take a seat and fondle myself at the thought of her. My eyes screw shut as I try to picture the ravenous passion she exuded, standing in that doorway. My lips have started to swell from biting down on them. I stroke myself harder as thoughts of her fill my mind and fantasies.  

My head lolls to the side, and through half-lidded eyes, I swear I can see her standing before me. She looks more flustered than the night before; her thighs rubbing together for some relief. Her eyes are blown, and she looks like she is a breath away from taking a bite of me. Not that I’d mind. I am unsure if her presence is tangible or delirium. I can’t bring myself to care, as I only feel more invigorated to complete what I’ve started. The sight of her watching me is enough to send me twitching over the edge. My moans get louder as I convulse, bucking into my hand until I get off. Warm, viscous liquid covers my hand and stomach as I catch my breath. 

The bewitching vision in the corridor was gone, rushing from my view. So I didn’t imagine her after all. I wanted to chase after her, but my legs were still weak and quivering. I am resigned to speaking to her tomorrow, for I might not make it up the stairs in such a state of exhaustion. 

~~~

When the sun rose, so did I. I sent for a carriage to take me away as fast as possible. Draco must’ve woken from the sound of me exiting my room, because he was there when I returned to pack my bag, begging me to reconsider. “Pansy crossed a line the other day, I admit that, but don’t let her bad mouth cut your stay short.” In all honesty, I don't even really remember what Pansy even said to me, but it would be better for him to think I’m leaving because of her and not the actual reason. I look at him with sincerity before replying, “It’s okay, Draco. Your friends don’t have to be my friends, but I think it would be best for all parties involved if I left.” He looks like he wants to protest more, but instead lets out a defeated sigh. 

“I’ll let you know when your coach is here.” With that, he turns to let me pack and makes his leave. I made quick work, not wanting to stay a second longer in fear of running into his father. It took only a few flicks of my wand to have everything placed where it should be inside my suitcase. My back is to the door when I hear it glide open, and a rich voice fills what was briefly my room. 

“Departing so soon?” My head turns to the doorframe with haste. Panic fills me as my heart plumits to my stomach. The very man I was trying to avoid is leaning in the entryway with a quirked brow in my direction. Of course, he knows I am leaving. Draco must’ve woken him, as it is customary for a host to see all their guests when they leave. Although, he looks a bit too put together for someone who was just awoken. How long has he been up? 

My breath is caught in my throat as my words struggle to free themselves from my nerves. “I-I apologize for taking my leave at such an hour, but something has come up, and I am needed at home.” I lie through my teeth. It would be rude to insinuate that I am leaving due to another guest, and I can never tell him the true reason for me going away. In every gap in conversation and every breath between words, I find myself panicking and overthinking about the possibility of him seeing me intruding on him. I am calmed by the knowledge that if he had seen me, he wouldn’t be so calm, and he certainly wouldn’t just continue letting me oggle at him.  

He compels himself from his position, with just a few leisurely strides, he is standing before me, albeit a little too close. I can’t read his face, it just holds the same calculating look as before. Like I am something to examine. “No need to apologize, dear… I hope I didn’t do anything to offend. As a host, it is my duty to see to it that all my guests are… comfortable.” His words are drawn out, as he uses a hand to raise my chin with a light touch. I can feel my face getting warm at the proximity, but I shake the notion before replying. “No, no, I assure you, you did nothing to offend Mr. Malfo-” “Please… call me Lucius.” His interjection was smooth, and I could think of no reason not to comply with his request. “You did nothing to offend, Lucius.” His name felt odd on my tongue. I feel as though I am breaking some kind of rule. It held a weight that I wasn’t sure how to feel about yet. 

“I am glad to hear that. It was a pleasure to have you here, despite how quickly you flee.” I am now painfully aware that he has not moved his hand from my face; his thumb slightly tracing my bottom lip as he speaks. His eyes glittered with amusement and perhaps something else. My heart is certainly racing, but all I can feel is his touch on my skin. “It is likely I will be back in the future with how much Draco asks me.” 

He hums in amusement, chuckling inwardly, as if to a joke only he heard. “I look forward to your future visits then.” I could’ve sworn his gaze flickered down to my lips at that moment. But perhaps I am just seeing what I want to. “Draco speaks very highly of you.” It was added on at the end, like a poorly crafted excuse for his anticipation. I am shocked that Draco would speak of me at all to his parents. I clear my throat, hoping I didn’t lose my ability to speak. “I could say the same to you. He speaks of you often.” His father is Draco’s greatest pride. That is why I feel a well of guilt filling my guts at the fact that I want to kiss him so depravedly.

A beat passes as we stand there, staring at each other. His hand practically cupping my face. Draco calls from the bottom of the stairs that my ride is here. Lucius looks annoyed as he turns his head to the door to respond. “Tell them she’s coming!” One inscrutable look was exchanged for another. This one is less kind looking. His hand leaves me. I feel almost cold without his touch. He gives me one more once-over before turning to leave. “I’ll see you downstairs.” His tone is sterner than before, like he is mad at me for leaving. I decide I am reading too much into things, I doubt he even cares that one of Draco’s friends is leaving early. He is just being polite. Though some of his actions bordered on inappropriate rather than polite. 

My exit was swift, and so were my goodbyes. Draco and his father seemed to be the only ones awake at this hour, so they were the only ones to see me off. I didn’t particularly care for the other guests, so I wasn’t too torn up at not saying goodbye. I gave Lucius a curtsy and Draco a hug before exiting the manor. If I were to humor myself and see things that weren’t there, I would’ve sworn I saw Lucius clench his jaw and avert his eyes when I was hugging Draco. I think it might be best for me if I never visit Malfoy Manor again. This trip has made my self-indulgent delusions run wild.

[crimkayz]

NSFW Snape Headcanons

━━⊱⋆⊰━Headcanons━⊱⋆⊰━━

Warnings: MDNI!! mentions of sexual scenarios!!

A/n: Snape headcanons are done! had fun working on these to get back into writing! Thank you @pieisstillgood for helping me out again <3 [Part: 1 and 2] And the link to my Ao3 !!!

- He takes the lead when being intimate, especially at the beginning of the sexual relationship. Once more comfortable in the relationship he may enjoy letting you take control. Being a dominant authority figure all day can be tiring and he may want a break every once in a while in the bedroom. He primarily enjoys being dominant though.

- Into marking you when being intimate. He tends to leave hickeys as his mark on you, mainly sticking to the neck and collarbones. Doesn’t enjoy hurting you too much so he really only leaves bruises when restraining your hands or from a strong grip.

- In the heat of the moment would fuck you on any surface or wall; he mainly does so on his desk. He pushes everything off of his desk to make room, the most important thing to him in that instant is fucking you.

- Restrains your hands mainly for control but also to hear you beg to touch him. He wants to know you want to touch him. He also likes watching you squirm under him.

- He is into under-the-desk oral. He likes how risqué it feels to have sex in such an improper place. The thought of someone coming into his office hours for help while you are under his desk encourages him further.

- Likes the idea of getting caught but doesn't actually want to get caught. He wants to keep things private but enjoys the thrill of the chance, this mainly applies to being out of his quarters in Hogwarts, like his office or the hallway.

- He would edge you as punishment for what he deems as ‘disobedient’ behavior. Sometimes only letting you know in the moment that you’re in for a punishment rather than full pleasure.

- Extremely into powerplay. Thoroughly enjoys reminding you of your place in the heat of the moment. He will wrap his hand around your neck, but wouldn’t participate in breathe play in fear of hurting you.

- Likes to be called sir as a reminder to both of you that he is an authority figure. He makes you call him sir when you're acting out. When you use it sarcastically outside of the context of the bedroom it riles him up.

- Would rather savor the moment than have a quickie, hates to be interrupted. He’d use a silencing charm or a locking charm sometimes to make sure you have time alone with him. Enjoys taking his time and making sure you're comfortable. Later in the relationship when things calm down he mainly would probably just fuck you on his bed.

- He enjoys it when you are genuinely vocal in bed as it is reinsurance that he is pleasing you. He likely keeps his grunts on the quieter side so that he can hear you better. He’d be more vocal if you told him you liked it, or if it was farther into the relationship.

[crimkayz]

Romantic Snape Headcanons

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- He likely wouldn’t use pet names, especially at the beginning of the relationship. Once he is more comfortable and you are further along in the relationship he will. The only pet name he would use on occasion is Darling. I could also see him using it in frustration. 

- His love language would be acts of service. He definitely would brew potions for you if needed. If he heard you complaining you would find a potion to help fix the problem, whether be sleeplessness or pain.  

- He is a deeply jealous individual. He would get jealous but it would be an internal battle, you might be able to catch a glimpse of his storm of emotions by his facial expressions or the clenching of his hands. He would bring it up later in private when he deems it an ample time to have such a conversation. 

- He does not stand for disrespect toward his person. He would use wit and sarcasm to shame the individual who disrespected you. He would totally hold a grudge. In some instances, he would even make them apologize for their crude behavior.  

- Obsessive in a subtle and easily missed way. He takes in a lot of information about you but doesn’t make it obvious that he knows these things about you. He tends to be a silent observer. Would likely put himself in situations where you’d also be present, he enjoys forced proximity.

- He probably wouldn’t like or enjoy public affection that much. He would only really hold hands if you wanted to or there aren't many people around. Would hold your hand to stop you from wandering off or losing you in a busy crowd. In private he would be more willing to be touched, he may even let you lay on his chest if you’ve been together for a while. 

- Gift-giving isn't really his thing, he tends to stick to holidays and special occasions. He would most likely give one meaningful or thought-out gift. Doesn’t mind spending the money if it's guaranteed you will like it. On special occasions, we might get flowers for you, though they would be already displayed in a vase. He would not address the fact that he got them at all. 

- Further into the relationship, he would do acts of service. He’d be thoughtful and make you tea or hot cocoa if you were relaxing or reading. He would get you snacks or small things you like in a pass-by through Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. 

- He’d never admit it out loud but he enjoys seeing you wear his cloak, especially in public settings. He acts like it annoys him though.

- He is not into going on public dates, although if he knew you’d enjoy going out to a certain place he would take you, maybe for a special occasion. He does do romantic dates in private places. 

- He enjoys being kissed in private. He views kisses as a sort of reassurance regarding the bond and relationship between the two of you. 

This is all for now… loading more soon.. ;) [Part: 1 and 3]

Nsfw headcanons are next!!!!

Here is the link to my Ao3 !!!

Thank you to @pieisstillgood for helping me, love you <3

[crimkayz]

May I add you to my Harry Potter writers list and do you have any rules?

Yes of course!! And honestly as of now the only thing that comes to mind is I wont write any super heavy nsfw content but thats about it!!!

[crimkayz]

Are you a 18+ adult so I may interact ?

Yes I am!!!

[crimkayz]

Snape Headcanons

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- Prefers tea over coffee, though if he must need or want coffee it would obviously be black. He enjoys sipping tea when he reads or grades papers for class.

- Listens to instrumental music mainly classical but sometimes he doesn’t mind trying something new though this is a very rare chance. He really only listens to music if he needs a break from the silence, so it would need to be instrumental. 

- Enjoys the process of grading papers or homework due to seeing how well he teaches or what students he needs to start picking on the next class. He also enjoys it for the fact that this is one of the new ways he gets to write with ink since he doesn't particularly journal.

- Prefers colder weather or cloudy days, he gets more done and feels more at ease and honestly more subdued.

- Reads mainly history keeps up with potions and constantly reads about anything dealing with rare or unusual magic. He also enjoys reading poetry or well-constructed literature. He tends to read in the dark with a dim lamp next to him to focus or relax.

- His quarters in Hogwarts are dark but overall well-kept. His bookshelf is a bit dusty; he doesn't make time to read often. He would have a tea cart by the fireplace near his chair in the corner where he would tend to read. He would also have a cabinet of potions and or ingredients to make potions for class or other professors. He prefers candlelight so there are also plenty of candlesticks around. 

- Would probably only hang out with Minvera outside school hours. They would chat over tea or some sort of pastry. This would be the only time he would laugh or even get close. He would probably chat about students and rumors, like something Fred or George did. He would most definitely complain about Draco because he knows Minvera would agree.

- Dislikes drinking and would definitely want to always be in control of himself. He would drink maybe a small glass of fire whiskey on the rocks at staff events. He also wouldn't do anything but drink, drugs and other things are off the table for sure. 

- He probably smells like potion ingredients or like a faint scent of cologne that he sprays like once in the morning just because it's a habit, though he particularly doesn't care what he smells like since he is always monitoring his potions class and his closet of ingredients. 

- He probably hardly sleeps and if he does it's never a deep sleep. He probably doesn't have good dreams and is plagued with bad ones. He tells himself he doesn't need the sleep but it definitely plays into his mood. He stays up late and wakes up early. He enjoys having as much time to keep up with everything going on at Hogwarts and all of his duties.  

- He mainly wears black for the convenience due to always working with potions but he spent so long building his dark persona so black is perfect for him, it might even be his favorite color. 

This is all for now… loading more soon.. ;)

[Part: 2 and 3]

Here is the link to my Ao3 !!!