sweeter than honeydukes’ candy

synopsis: your boyfriend has a problem. he cant stop clinging to you, finding every excuse to cuddle right up next to you, sometimes even on you. but you want to show him you love him too, so you do what you do best.

word count: 836

“draco. youre acting like an actual pest—,” you say, trying to push his head away from where it rests on your chest. he resists, burying his face further into your pyjamas.

“draco.”

“yes, love?” he says, muffled through your clothes. he shifts, peering up at you with those mist-covered grey eyes you can never seem to resist.

“nothing.” you huff, threading your fingers through his hair, shifting his head back again so his face is pressed against your front.

“i can feel your stupid smirk.”

he laughs, palms cool by your waist, riding your shirt up a bit, making you gasp. “youre like a corpse. pale as one too,” you huff, bending your head down to kiss his hair.

he chuckles again, squeezing your waist. “yeah?”

you hum, slightly drifting off to sleep in your now basically shared bed in the single-bed dorm room you requested. “this defeats the purpose of having a single-person bedroom.” you say through a yawn.

“we know damn well you want me to be here.” he says with a half-smug smile. he shifts, starting to lightly kiss your neck, feeling your breathing grow more relaxed.

summary: You and Draco have been yearning for one another for so long but never acted upon it until one of the Malfoy's infamous New Year's Party—and a little nudge from Narcissa and Lucius.

pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

warnings: Y/N is used, reader's last name is Voss, drinking and getting high, fluff, angst if you squint, pureblood nonsense, lmk if I’m missing any

a/n: based off olivia rodrigo's song :)

The Malfoy’s hosted a New Year’s Party every single year. And every single year, you were expected to attend—courtesy of your pureblood last name. It wasn’t necessarily the worst thing, but the older you got, you realized how easy it was to bypass the boredom of parents bragging about their own treasures and heirlooms.

Secret Boyfriend

"Please, at least a hint," your friend insisted, clinging to your arm as you walked across the courtyard. "Is he in another house?"

Ever since you accidentally let slip that your boyfriend helped you with your Potions homework, your love life became the hottest topic in Gryffindor. It started as curious questions and ended with a betting poster in the common room that had at least twenty candidates. The funniest thing was that no one had put any money on your actual boyfriend.

"If you want to know, you'll have to guess," you said.

"If he's in another house, he has to be a Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw." Ron joined the conversation. "Slytherin is definitely out of the question."

"Why can't he be a Slytherin?" You raised an eyebrow, clutching your books to your chest.

Everyone around you burst out laughing, some nearly choking.

"You too, Neville?" You turned around, looking at the boy who immediately lowered his head.

"Slytherins are arrogant and rude," Hermione commented. "And you're one of the nicest people I know. Besides, you were raised by your Muggle mother; Slytherins only have horrible things to say about us."

If only they knew. You smiled, thinking how sweet your boyfriend was despite your Muggle blood.

"Maybe Slytherins aren't as bad as you think." You quickened your pace, arriving at the greenhouse first.

"As if," Harry murmured, and everyone nodded.

You didn't blame them for thinking that. Before the fateful day Professor Slughorn assigned Draco as your tutor, you too had believed Slytherins were ruthless and cruel. It took a couple of encounters in the library for you to realize he wasn't so bad. Three months later, you were crazy about Draco Malfoy.

Just seeing him enter the greenhouse made your heart race and feel your face getting hotter.

He made sure to walk behind you and brush his arm against your back, that was the only kind of touch you could have in public without raising suspicion. You had to be very careful about everything you did, from avoiding eye contact in the hallways to sitting separately; but that afternoon Draco broke the rules and chose the table next to yours.

"What are you looking at, Y/LN?" Draco feigned disgust.

"Just ignore him." Your friend patted your shoulder. "He's an asshole."

You hid your smile with your book and glanced to the side, finding your boyfriend winking at you.

You could barely pay attention in class. Your teacher's voice talking about Venomous Tentacula was background noise while images of Draco flooded your mind.

You should have paid more attention; if you had, you might not have ended up trapped by a deadly plant. Everything happened so fast you didn't even register the grip on your arm when someone stopped the plant and severed the tentacle.

"Love, are you okay?" Draco cupped your face, his blue eyes filled with concern. "Did it bite you?"

"I'm fine." You smiled like an idiot, leaning into his touch.

"What were you thinking? You could have died. I've told you a thousand times you need to pay more attention. One of these days you're going to give me a heart attack. I swear by Salazar I'm going to lock you in the dungeons until you learn to..."

You cut off his rambling with a kiss. Draco could be over the top sometimes when it came to your safety, and when he got out of control, only your lips against his could calm him down.

"Merlin. Malfoy has a heart," your friend froze behind you.

You broke the kiss and glanced around. Everyone was just as surprised as your friend; some even seemed disgusted by the scene.

"Shit, sorry." The secret was out. Draco would be in trouble with his parents because of you.

You tried to push him away and pretend nothing had happened. Maybe if you blamed the Tentacula, they'd believe you.

"Do you have a fucking problem?" Draco pulled you into a hug and kissed your forehead. "You're not going anywhere. Let them say what they want. I was tired of hiding anyway."

And that's how no one won the bet, and the rumors about you only got worse.

when did you get hot?

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

summary: The last time you saw Draco Malfoy, he was a whiny, petulant, self-absorbed shrimp. Now, in his eighth year at Hogwarts, he's still most of that, but some things have changed...

a/n: Prompt #41: "Like what you see?" Lost the ask, but thank you anon for joining my 3k follower event! Title is from that Sabrina Carpenter song because that's all I could hear while writing this. 2.3k words

“No,” Cho says, wagging a finger at you. “Absolutely not. Don’t even think about it.”

“What? I didn’t say anything!” you defend, even as you lean forward in your seat, hoping to catch a better glimpse at a certain Slytherin seeker.

The sun is just finishing its descent, painting the pitch in creamy oranges and pinks that make the grounds look soft, even as two rival schools battle on the field. The players fly by in streaks of green and grey, dodging Bludgers and weaving between each other. 

“It doesn’t matter,” she continues. “You’ve got the look.”

You scoff. “What look?”

“The look! The drooling…panting, fainting…eye…thing.”

“Wow, Cho,” you deadpan, turning around to face her. “Top marks for that description. And you’re exaggerating. I was just curious! You know, I haven’t been to Hogwarts in years.”

eternally yours.

masterlist

“can i come wit’ you?” draco murmured with his face buried in the crook of your neck. his words came muffled against your skin and sent a tingle down your spine.

by the time the both of you stumbled through the front door, one of his shoes was already missing. he probably lost it somewhere between the cobblestone streets where he’d insisted on stopping to kiss you under a flickering streetlamp.

Summary: You were taught to never go near a Malfoy, ever. But how could you? He's very much unavoidable.

wc: 1.1k+

cw: potter!reader x draco, reader is twins w harry, au where voldy doesn't exist, jily is alive, kinda unsupportive james, reader and james fight.

A/N: I can't stop with the potter!reader x draco fics.😔

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

Your parents only ever gave you and Harry one command before your very first year at Hogwarts. Not “study hard,” not “stay out of trouble,” not even “stick together.” No. It was a singular warning, sharp and unwavering, as you stood on Platform 9¾ with your trunks at your feet and nerves buzzing under your skin.

James Potter crouched in front of you, eyebrows furrowed beneath his messy hair, and pointed at both of you as if branding the rule into your very soul.

“You do not go near a Malfoy,” he said with finality. “Ever,” Lily echoed, folding her arms across her chest.

You and Harry glanced at each other, unsure whether to laugh or panic. But neither of you asked questions. You didn’t have to. Their faces were carved from stone—resolute, nostalgic, and more than a little haunted.

So you promised.

And for the first few years, you kept that promise.

⸻

You were now heavily making out with Draco Malfoy.

a tail of two kitties (d.m.)

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Word Count: 7.4k

Summary: Turns out, Draco Malfoy’s obsession with blood purity isn’t limited to wizards—his disdain extends to your mangy mutt of a cat, too

A/N: I actually don't know what the fuck i was on when i wrote this. draco is so ooc in this im embarrassed to post this

Credits to @/cursed-carmine for the divider

Every Last Drop

💌Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

💭 MDNI: comfort smut, blowjob-only fic, overstimulation, edging, light cockwarming (with your mouth), Draco trying to be quiet, reader being gentle but relentless, “I just want to take care of you,” hands in her hair, heavy eye contact, Draco twitching, crying (just a little), praise kink, “you’re doing so good for me”, Draco completely gone

⸻

It starts soft.

He comes to you late—shoulders tight, tie loose, jaw clenched like he’s been grinding his teeth all day. He doesn’t say what happened. Doesn’t need to. You can see it in his eyes—the exhaustion. The pressure. The unspoken weight of being Draco Malfoy.

He slumps onto your bed like gravity’s finally won.

You kiss his forehead.

And then, quietly, you ask:

“Can I take care of you?”

He blinks.

“What do you mean?”

Your hand cups his cheek. “Let me love you.”

And that’s how you end up on your knees between his legs, fingers tugging open his belt, warm breath against his skin as he looks pdown at you with something like awe—and fear.

“Love,” he says, breath shaky, “you don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

And then you’re sinking your mouth down onto him, slow and sweet, and Draco breaks.

⸻

He’s been hard since the moment you touched him. But you don’t rush. You let your lips wrap around the head, tongue teasing the slit, hands bracing gently against his thighs as you slowly sink down.

“Fuck—” he chokes, head tipping back. So pretty.

He’s already panting.

Already twitching.

But you don’t speed up. You hold him in your mouth, let him feel your throat flex around him as you breathe through your nose and swallow slowly.

One of his hands fists in the bedsheets.

The other? Hesitates.

Then slides into your hair, shaking.

“Y-You don’t have to—”

You pull off with a soft pop, licking the head with kittenish precision.

“I want to,” you say again. “Just relax, Draco.”

You stroke him once. Twice. Then your mouth is back on him, your tongue dragging under the underside of his cock like you know that’s what makes him jolt.

Because you do.

You’ve learned him. His body. The way he twitches when you suck on the head just right, the way he gasps when you moan around him.

And tonight?

You use everything.

You hollow your cheeks and let your throat open, taking him deeper, swallowing around him slowly. Draco’s entire body jolts like you’ve shocked him with a spell.

“Fuck—fuck, please—”

But you don’t let him finish.

You edge him once. Then again.

He gets close—so close—his hips starting to buck, thighs trembling, breath coming in ragged bursts—

And you pull off.

You kiss his thigh.

He whimpers.

Actually whimpers.

“Why—why’d you stop—?”

You look up at him, eyes wide and soft, tender care mixed with mischief. “Not yet. You’re not ready.”

“I—what—?” He’s dazed. Confused. Already so close to slipping.

“You carry so much, Draco,” you murmur, stroking him again, slow and firm. “Promise it’ll feel better, empty that pretty head of yours.”

Then you take him back into your mouth—slow and deep.

And this time?

You don’t stop.

⸻

He’s a wreck within minutes.

His shirt’s half unbuttoned. Tie discarded. His head’s thrown back, hair mussed, lips parted on a soundless gasp.

You suck him like it’s your full-time job.

You let him fuck your throat, let him feel how warm and soft you are, how you refuse to let go, even when he begs.

Because he does.

“Oh—oh god, please—I’m—”

You hum around him.

He twitches.

Spills.

You swallow. Gently. Fully.

But you don’t stop.

He gasps—shudders—tries to pull away.

“W-Wait, I can’t—!”

You hold him still.

You want every last drop.

You work him through it, licking, stroking, your mouth so soft and wet it makes his hips jerk—too much, too sensitive—but you just keep going.

“Holy fuck—” he breathes. His voice cracks. “Y-You’re gonna kill me—”

You glance up at him, as if to say, “That’s my plan.”

His cheeks are flushed. His eyes glassy. His legs shaking.

Tears welling at the corners of his lashes.

He looks ruined. So pretty, all yours.

You smile.

And you keep sucking.

Because this isn’t about getting him off.

It’s about melting him down to nothing so he doesn’t have to carry the world anymore. Doesn’t even need to think anymore.

Just for tonight.

—

He’s still gasping when you take him back into your mouth, sensitive and twitchy. Still trembling.

And you don’t even give him a second to recover.

Your lips slide down his shaft again—slow, sinful—and Draco makes a sound you’ve never heard from him before. High. Broken. Almost horrified at how good it feels.

His thighs jerk involuntarily, heels digging into the mattress. He tries to push your head back—gentle, frantic taps to your shoulder—but his arms are weak. Jelly. Useless.

You hum around him like you didn’t hear a single word.

His whole body shakes.

He’s chanting nonsense. Garbled. Words collapsing into breath.

Is he begging you to stop or keep going? Neither of you can tell anymore.

You decide to take him deeper.

His head snaps back into the pillows. He arches like he’s been hit with a curse, hands flying to your hair—not to push you away anymore, but to hold on for dear life.

“Feels so good—“ It comes out of him broken between pants,

He tries to swallow but can’t.

He’s too busy coming undone.

And then it happens.

Another orgasm hits him.

Hard.

Harder than the first. Harder than anything he’s ever felt. His hips buck helplessly into your mouth, deep, messy, uncontrolled—and the second you feel the twitch of release, you milk him.

Your tongue.

Your throat.

Your hand squeezing gently at the base.

All working together to wring every last drop out of him.

Draco shatters, babbling and He’s whining. He’s falling apart in your mouth.

You swallow everything again—slow, reverent—and let your lips drag back up his overstimulated cock, soft teasing licks that make Draco convulse.

“It’s too much,” he pants, sweat beading at his forehead, hips twitching.

You look up.

His eyes are half-lidded.

Pupils blown.

Jaw slack.

He looks so far gone.

Beautifully, wonderfully, absolutely wrecked.

And you’re not done.

Not even close.

“Please—” he gasps, voice cracking like thin glass. “Love, it’s too much—“

You stroke him slowly, lovingly.

Just enough that his hips jerk again.

He whimpers.

Actually whimpers.

“No—no no no—not again—can’t—“

He’s not even forming full words anymore.

Just pleading sounds. You’ve never seen this side of Draco; of him reduced to such a mess, babbling, barely coherent.

You like it.

Soft. Broken. Dripping with overwhelmed pleasure.

Your mouth replaces your hand again.

He lets out a strangled sob.

“fuck—oh—oh Merlin—ah—”

He’s trying to escape the pleasure.

He’s also pushing deeper into it.

His brain is confused, short-circuited, drowning.

Which is exactly how you want him.

He orgasms again.

You’ve lost track by this point.

He loses himself.

By the time the next wave hits him—an overstimulated, violent full-body shock—Draco isn’t speaking anymore.

He’s just gasping.

Twitching.

Moaning your name like it’s the only word left in his vocabulary.

His head lolls sideways on the pillow, sweat in his hair, cheeks flushed, mouth open as he pants through the overstimulation.

He’s gone.

Absolutely, completely, deliciously gone.

No thoughts.

No shields.

Just a gorgeous ruined boy slumped against the pillows with cum on his abs and tears dried at the corners of his eyes.

Your pretty pureblood prince?

Milked for all he’s worth.

He’s trembling.

Still twitching with the echoes of too many orgasms. Breathing shallow. Eyes glassy and unfocused as he collapses against the pillows, limbs loose and boneless.

You climb up the bed and gather him into your arms.

He doesn’t resist.

He just melts.

⸻

You clean him gently—soft strokes of your wand, a whispered tergeo—and when he whimpers from the contact, you hush him with kisses to his temple.

“It’s alright,” you murmur, tucking his head under your chin. “You did so good, my love.”

Draco lets out a tiny, broken exhale. “C–can’t feel my legs.”

You smile into his hair.

“That’s alright. You don’t need them.”

A dazed laugh stutters out of him. And then—

“I think I love you.”

You blink.

He’s warm and pink and fucked-out against your chest, but his voice—his voice is serious.

You pull back just enough to look down at him.

And his stormy eyes find yours.

“I do love you,” he repeats, quieter. “I—I mean it.”

Your heart thuds.

You cup his cheek.

“I love you too.”

Draco inhales, sharp and shaky. His expression crumples.

“I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.”

Your thumb strokes the side of his face.

“Draco… you do. You do. You deserve love.”

A kiss to his forehead. “And I love you.”

He makes a soft, wounded sound in his throat. Like he’s breaking and healing at the same time.

You press kisses to every inch of him—his cheeks, his nose, his jaw, his damp forehead. You brush his hair back from his face and kiss his temple again and again until his breathing slows.

His arms loop weakly around your waist.

“Don’t go,” he whispers.

“I won’t.”

You shift, lying fully beside him. Let him curl into you like he’s done a hundred times before—but never like this. Never so shattered. So safe.

You hold him as his lashes flutter closed.

“I’m here,” you whisper. “I’ve got you. I love you.”

His breathing deepens.

His grip on your shirt loosens.

And finally, in your arms, Draco Malfoy sleeps.