Harry Potter Drabbles - Tumblr Posts
Paradoxical
Summary: When your ex husband draco finds you at a club that same things that led you far away from him, pave the way back.
Warnings: Smut. Blowjobs, vaginal penetration, cumplay, slight spit, mirror and sir kink. Ex!husband!Draco. Possessiveness with a dash of toxicity.
a/n: ahh yes, my assignments lay incomplete but i sure can write p0rn on a school night.
NAVIGATION
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The flashes of neon light flickered over his features, but those cold edges of silver remained unaltered, his eyes seemed to have been painted with his possessive and obsessive behaviours.
There was a part inside of you that wanted to do the classic throw-your-drink-at-your-ex act and this other part that was craving the antonym of that act.
Maybe you’d caught his paradoxical behaviour— the apple never falls too far from his tree.
“Babe, do you want to leave?” Hermione whispered, looking at you sympathetically.
Certainly not— he’d silently sent provocations to you a thousand times over, and there could never be a time where you would’t be prepared for a war— just like the old times.
“I think I’ll stay” Your voice had no cracks or crevices, and you kept your cool hard gaze on Draco as you answered her.
“You sure?” She questioned again, eyeing between you and Draco, and you simply gave a nod.
Draco smirked and his eyes met yours. The moment they did, his hands dusted off his coat and he soon stumbling out from the croud towards you.
His movements were more graceful than the dancers, even though he was simply fucking walking, he always found a way to make beauty.
“Hello darling” He said curt, his voice deep and smooth.
“Fuck you” You snapped back immediately, and his eyes widened at your response.
His hand fell over his chest dramatically as though your words made his heart ache, “That’s not very nice, I expected a far more sweeter response”
“Well, you’re my ex”
“Let’s be civil yeah? I still like you very much angel”
You huffed, eyes rolling and he caught that exact movement. You stared over at Hermione, who was looking as awkward as ever, shifting in her seat to somehow be a little more comfortable.
“I got it Hermione, you can leave” You leaned ahead and whispered. She gave a skeptical look and you reassured her with a smile.
From what she gathered, you two certainly wouldn’t go through the night without fighting or fucking. She didn’t feel like being a barrier tonight so then with a small peck on your cheek and with a small goodbye, she was off to finding Ron and Harry.
“Well” Draco said, looking ahead as she walked away, “Now that she’s gone, we can talk better”
“I have nothing to say to you”
He chuckled, swiping his thumb over corner of his mouth as he took a sip of his drink, his rings shining brightly and his viens prominent.
Draco had always had the most beautiful hands you’d ever seen. And a while ago, you were blessed to have that same hands pleasuring you in the most sinful of places— a privilege which you’d now lost.
“I see you still have the hand kink” His voice broke off your focus, and you were silent for several seconds shaking your head and scoffing.
“What are you doing here?” You asked defensively, pinching your eyebrows.
His teeth grazed his lip and his eyes traveled down your pretty body, noticing every perfection of that tight little black dress.
“Was it necessary to wear that” He sneered, not giving answers but rather more questions.
A giggle passed through you as his possessiveness came to surface, a reminder of why you left in the first place— well honestly you couldn’t just put blame on one thing, there were multiple reasons why you left but his jealousy was definitely one of them.
That giggle went silent the moment his warm large hand rested on your thigh, caressing and petting the soft skin, his rings leaving burns wherever they touched.
His fingers were barely ghosting over your panties, and your breath caught, your eyes quickly scanning over the room to see if anyone was paying attention to you two.
“Did want some random idiot’s dick? Is that why you’re so indecent tonight?”
“I—” Now your voice had cracks, you shuddered and throbbed as his words got more and more vulgur and much to your dismay, you got more aroused.
“There’s nothing— nothing, I hate more than the thought of my baby having to go to other people to get taken care of”
He sensed the libido, the clenching thighs and the darkened irises. His possessiveness got the best of him and he was willing to fall on his knees again, only for you.
“Don’t you want me to take care of you?”
—
His lips were soft but the way he kissed you was ravenous and rough. His tongue was moving along with yours, asserting dominance.
Your legs rested on his hips as he pressed you against the wall, kissing you deeply.
“Mine, mine, all mine” He muttered as he kissed along your throat and over your breasts. You moaned as he squeezed your arse, and grinded himself against your slit.
Suddenly, he pulled you down from him and you were left with wonderment before he pushed you down on your knees.
“You know what to do doll” He said, pulling your strands of hair back from your face.
“Yes sir” You only nodded with anticipation, hands trembling as you worked to unbuckle his belt. His breaths were ragged, and his hooded eyes fixated on your mouth.
His cock was hard as a rock, and heavy in your hand. You only needed to give him one firm stroke to have him grunting.
Your mouth wrapped around the head of him, licking up his tip and brushing and squeezing at the base of his thick lenght. Your eyes flicked up, maintaining contact as you took his entire shaft inside.
His fingers tensed, and your mouth sucked, and then bobbed back and forth, earning a throaty, ‘good girl’
The praise motivated you to make him feel ever better, your hand working at the base of him, stroking the flesh as you took the rest in your mouth.
“That’s it baby, you still take me so well” He groaned, giving an experimental thrust of his hips.
Soon, your eyes were watering and he was feeling that fimilar euphoria blooming down in his abdomen. When each one of his hands rested on the side of your face, yours rested on his thighs and you inhaled for what was to come.
His hips canted and thrusted into your mouth, your chin smeared with drool as he fucked your mouth. Your cheeks were stained with the tears that slipped down your pretty eyes.
“God, fuckin’ love this filthy little mouth” He grunted, pulling his cock out, spit connecting your lips with his head.
Your arousal smeared your thighs, it was almost painful. He was right in front and yet you hadn’t had him.
When you looked up, his expression was proud and satisfied, he gave your head a pat, muttering even more praises as he pulled you up. His thumbs cleaned up the remaining tears, kissing your nose and cheeks and healing the ache.
Draco pulled you up again, carrying you across his penthouse to his bedroom.
There were candles lit all around his room, and it gave everything a golden hue.
A whine fell from your lips as he pushed you down on the bed, “Draco please” You mewled, spreading your legs wide apart.
His pupils dialated, and he bent down to kiss along your thighs, your panties went down your legs, and he made it sure to make it absolutely excruciating.
He pulled at your knickers until they were down to your ankles and then he moaned as he stared at your possession.
“Fuck— I missed my girl so much” He spoke, kissing right abode your aching nub.
“And what about me?” You pouted, staring down at the blonde man between your thighs.
“Course I missed you too, silly” He sighed, “I just missed her more”
His finger prodded at your entrance, with a glance on your face, he pushed them inside and immediately curled them— and you cried out as his rings juxtaposed against his skin and the tips of his fingers scraped at that spot.
That feeling was lost soon, way too soon as he pulled them out. His grey eyes taking in the beautiful details of your responses. You looked at him avidly as he sucked on the arousal covered fingers.
“Still the sweetest”
“Please, please sir” You begged, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him towards you.
“Brat” Draco said, and swiftly turned you around, pulling your dress above your hips and cupping your arse.
He gave you a spank making you yelp in surprise. “That’s for earlier”
Draco spit on his shaft, jerking himself off and he still teased you and dragged out your desire. He aligned himself perfectly with you, and stayed still. He was always such a fucking tease.
With a strong thrust, he was buried deep inside. You trembled, gripping the sheets beneath you. His ripped muscular arm pulled you against his chest, keeping your skins together as he rut inside you.
“See how perfect I fit you?” His hand made you look right forward at the huge mirror in front of his bed.
And you stared at the sight of him and you. How you were filled with him so beautifully, how he was dragging your tits out from your dress, how his mouth was on your neck, and his arms around your waist.
When he gave a single hard thrust, you gave an embarrassingly loud gasp.
Then he gave a second and a third and several others and you were already shaking and struggling to keep yourself up.
You’d forgotten about the affect that he had on you. How much power he held.
His thrusts got harder and harder with a certain symphony hidden in them. “Oh fuck—” You sobbed, “I love your cock so much”
At that, he grunted loudly, and turned your head so that he could kiss you.
Your tits bounced as he got rougher, fucking you until he lost almost all control over himself.
It wasn’t until he felt you tighten unimaginably hard around him that he pulled out and you whined impatiently.
Draco manhandled you onto your back, he kissed you as he climbed on top of you, his hands sliding along your body.
He placed his palms on your thighs and pulled both of your legs up until they rested on his shoulders. He pressed a kiss on the inside of your thigh, cherishing the sculptured skin.
You whimpered as he sank inside again, drawing that coil inside you again. You were mesmerized as you stared at his sweaty broad shoulders and admired how your legs rested on them.
As he began to move inside again, you only stared at his face, and the illuminating orange colour of the lighting on him.
He was thrusting hard, trying to surpress feeling with the way his hips roughly met yours, with the way his lips moved with yours.
Your underwear dangled off your ankle as he pounded inside your pussy, leaving you shaking under him.
“I’m— I’m close”
Draco grunted, and his hand slid between both your bodies, drawing tight circles where the two of you met, “Cum for me”
And for him, you did. For him, you cried, and unraveled pleasure beneath him. Tears right at your eyes, like pearls decorating them, and your sobs and pants like melodies to his ears.
He pulled out quick, panting as he came and stained your flawless skin with his sin. His cum spilled over your belly and spread down to your pussy.
He panted near your shoulder and kissed it, feeling adoration come to surface, that one thing he’d tried to deny.
But all he could see was how the world was much more better and beautiful when you were present in his eyes, or in his arms.
And it was amidst all the lust and vexation, that you knew; knew that you were still almost as much in love as the first time the rays of the sun ever reached the earth— the first time you ever felt love for him sear through you.
His forehead rested against yours, and maybe it was the heat of the situation, but that possessiveness was appealing. You wanted it, you wanted him.
Draco kissed your cheek, “I want you back” and to that, you answered with a smile, a dimple forming right where he’d kissed away any doubts to not be called his.
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@artytaeh your writing literally has me both blushing, crying, giggling, smiling and all other sorts of emotions :D I loved this sm and am so SO so happy as a Mattheo girlie for such well thought out and written hcs<3333
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MATTHEO RIDDLE— not horribly tall, but slightly above average. strong arms; what he doesn't have of height like the weasley twins, he has of muscles on his arms, even though not a ken-like amount, which he finds ugly. dark curls— inherited by his mother, the insanely crazy bellatrix lestrange, and beautiful eyes that he has no clue where he got from. long lashes, defined jawline.
in short, a handsome, easily found attractive, young man. and with that bad boy attitude? well, mattheo riddle is every girl's guilty pleasure of a daydream.
some, because they'd like to have their attitude and confidence fucked out of them, by mattheo riddle who certainly takes no bullshit. others, because they delusionally believe that they can somehow fix him— turning a doberman into a golden retriever.
mattheo riddle who's the only first year to not tremble under snape's gaze, because his father is voldemort. the thing, the person he fears the most.
mattheo riddle who doesn't even blink when teachers, older students and even intimidating people yell at him— this is child's play, compared to the cold, frightening aura of his father, and the eery sound of his mother talking to him; one second, she's calm, putting on a (scary) loving persona— then, she's raging, yelling and slamming things, hands on the table, almost throwing hands at her son.
mattheo riddle who stands on the end of the line, letting students get in front of him and even threatening some to take his place on the line, so he stands further behind. this only happens once, during that one professor lupin's class, with the boggart— because mattheo knows that it'd take the shape of his father, walking eerily towards him. not only does he hate the thought of having his classmates gossiping about him, about his family and making even more assumptions about him; but also knows that he'd stand there, paralyzed. incapable of even raising his wand, much less utter such an easy spell like riddikulus. for mattheo, what's ridiculous is his situation; how he'd love and thank the heavens, if he could have such a silly fear like insects, ghosts, or even clowns.
mattheo riddle who grows extremely confident because nothing scares him at hogwarts; after all, his father isn't there— the only thing that makes mattheo riddle tremble is his presence. anything else isn't half as frightening as coming back home to his mother, bellatrix lestrange, and father, voldemort he-who-must-not-be-named.
mattheo riddle who becomes scary and intimidating, so that no one can scare or intimidate him instead. he spent most of his third year at hogwarts practicing on the mirror— a way to turn his beautiful eyes into a dead stare, making sure that the shining glint of his eyes disappears, to become so scary, that no one would dare to mess with him like tom riddle does. or even draco malfoy, who tried to do this back on their first year, bullying mattheo into becoming his friend and follower—, but all of this was before they became genuine friends, along with theodore, lorenzo and blaise.
mattheo riddle who's known by the unhinged brother, less smart riddle— while others, who are aware of tom riddle's tendencies, call him the older psychopath brother, brilliant riddle. such a charming pair of siblings, aren't they?
mattheo riddle who smokes a whole package of cigarettes with theodore nott, when they're on the train back home. for holidays and for summer vacation, in silence, because they're too anxious and nervous to come back home, to leave their (although they're too proud to admit) safe place — hogwarts.
mattheo riddle who respects his older brother, tom riddle, because he thinks that in many ways, tom is like their father sometimes. and that scares him.
mattheo riddle who only learned how to swim and to stop fearing lakes, when his slytherin friends teached him.
( this happened on lorenzo's house, since he invited his friends to spend some days there, during summer vacation. after all, his parents are the less... frightening, in a way, and blaise zabini gatekeeps his mother from his friends, for obvious reasons. besides, lorenzo has the largest pool! upon realizing that mattheo stayed behind while they played in the swimming pool, the boys, for once, didn't turn the situation into a joke. draco stood behind, throwing opinions and dictating that they were doing it wrong— while theodore and blaise stood each by mattheo's side, making sure that he wouldn't get scared if he felt like he was drowning, while lorenzo is in front of him, advising on what to do. it was a mess. a mess that became a core memory of true friendship. )
even so, mattheo hates to go to a point of the lake where he's no longer tall enough to touch the sandy surface— because suddenly he's seven years old again, with tom riddle standing on the edge of the lake, smiling darkly at the sight of his baby brother drowning in the cold water.
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mattheo riddle who, after all of these years, still stares at his older brother with a mixture of resentment and sorrow— secretly, mattheo still wishes to be close with tom. to have a normal brotherly friendship with him, even if they're everything but a normal family. so, mattheo riddle, who envies pairs of siblings whenever he sees them around hogwarts halls, hugging, lightheartedly bullying each other. wishing he could trauma dump shared experiences of his parents with tom, who would've demolished inch after inch of mattheo's pride and feelings, calling him weak.
mattheo riddle who doesn't join draco when he bullies the weasleys. he never defends them either; he doesn't need to, because the redhead siblings stick around for each other. mattheo doesn't know if his heart feels like crying, or ripping apart with a vicious, angry jealousy that he doesn't have that. a sibling that cares enough to take care of him.
mattheo riddle who drinks and drinks and drinks until he passes out, or until he almost throws up his stomach away— rarely accepting any kind of help whatsoever, because he doesn't feel like he deserves it.
because pain and finding out a way to solve things by himself, is what he grew up used to. because his mother is a bipolar, sadistic woman; because his father is too feared by mattheo for him to even dare to consider asking for his help; because his older brother, tom riddle, isn't a pillar he can lean on to— rather, a pillar that would glady fall on top of him, crushing him under debris. he's another person to be feared, and who'd leave mattheo even worse than he already is.
mattheo riddle, who hesitantly accepts lorenzo and theodore's help. because lorenzo is too much of a mother of the group (whenever blaise isn't around, but mattheo doesn't think he'd ever allow the zabini boy to help him either. of course, this happens whenever lorenzo isn't planning his way to another girl's bed either) and by far, the most caring of the boys. or at least, the one who easily shows his worry without a hundred walls surrounding his heart.
and theodore nott, well— mattheo thinks that the term best friend is too corny, so he settles to admit that theo is the person who understands him the most. if he doesn't have tom, he has theo, to sympathize with his shitty situation, because theo's family and hardships are too similar, even though they don't share a last name.
they have matching wounds, inflicted by different people, but similar situations.
and because theodore is awfully moody, sarcastic and would punch mattheo into reason, well— mattheo unwillingly accepts theodore's (forceful) help.
· · ·
mattheo riddle who only ever has deep thoughts when he's throwing up from the alcohol, or becomes self-conscious of himself. of the evilness he provokes, of the unchanging way his fate was decided, as soon as he was conceived in his mother's womb. how he, no matter how he'd like to change, believes that he's a lost cause.
something that's not worth the effort, since mattheo riddle, younger brother of tom riddle, son of bellatrix lestrange and the dark lord himself, must have been born with a vicious evil heart. how could he not, with a family like this?
it must be on his dna. or so he believes.
when he's drunk, puke being wiped out from his lips and alone in the bathroom— this is the only time when mattheo riddle allows himself to pity himself. other than that, he'd scoff at the thought of doing so; because that's a weak thing to do.
and to survive his family, mattheo wouldn't dare to be weak a single day of his life. he might get killed if he allows a moment of weakness around his family. whatever family means, anyways.
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mattheo riddle who's always the first one to start a fight— and never the one to end it. either his friends push him away, or he's held down by some spell casted by one of hogwarts' teachers.
however, he will start a fight with a group of five gryffindors, if they make a nasty comment about mattheo's friends. if they dare to assume, to gossip, to say one mean word about the friends that tolerate mattheo's behavior even on his shittiest days. the first thing he does is grab the last one talking by the collar, so that his fist naturally punches the guy's face. yes, mattheo can keep up a fight with five guys— even though he knows that, as much of a good and violent fighter as he is, there's no way that he won't leave with a few bruises (and bloody knuckles from rashly punching back and forth).
nevertheless, mattheo riddle won't ever allow theodore or his friends to join him, if he's about to have a 1v1. not even to intimidate or make a single threat— mattheo thinks that it's pathetic and coward to do so, which is why sometimes, mattheo doesn't help draco when he puts up a stunt against a single student (or a group that is outnumbered by malfoy's little friends). when draco comes back, mattheo won't scold him— but he won't shut up either, at least making sure that by some miracle, draco understands how coward it is to do that, from the sarcastic comment that mattheo throws with no hesitation.
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mattheo riddle who actually has one of the most beautiful smiles. once his usual dead stare is gone, showing how those dark eyes of his can look so sweet and bright— squinting into half moons, when he truly laughs or smiles genuinely. his smile is one that makes you think that maybe, just maybe, there isn't any evil or meanness to this slytherin boy.
mattheo riddle who is so touch starved, that only a warm gaze from you, is enough to melt him and (at least mentally) get him on his knees. those dark eyes soften and follow every movement of yours— looking like a lost puppy, when you eventually shift your attention to something else, your gaze leaving him. he won't grab you, he won't yell for your attention out of pride— but if you were to look into his eyes, you'd see how mattheo silently hopes to some deity that you'll have your attention on him once again.
mattheo riddle who doesn't know how to be gentle, because he never knew gentle touches, caresses and soft approaches. this man is almost stupid because of this sometimes— mattheo isn't even aware of his own strength, so when he does hurt you unintentionally (by grabbing holding your wrist) and gets scolded about it... he'll genuinely look at you, confused. sure, he'll apologize— fine, sorry!
. . . however, mattheo isn't sure what he did wrong. was it really that hurtful? to him, he was simply holding you, not grabbing...
( because mattheo riddle was never held, only yanked or dragged along. )
mattheo riddle who would love to have people playing with his hair. twirl his curls around your fingers, tug at it (but gently, please! he easily complains at the slightest hint of discomfort!), massage his scalp, caress his dark hair— mattheo melts and for a moment, wonders if sleep does arrive to him this fast at night, like it does now that you're touching him there.
so yes, during classes, mattheo sneakily stands on the door frame— carefully watching where you decide to take your seat, before he marches up to you so he can take the other chair of said desk.
mattheo marches confidently, hands on his pockets and body a little bend to the front; focused on his target: you.
all of his concentration is locked on his goal: your attention for the whole class. and if he's too late, because some annoying girl or asshole with pants got there before him? one glare from mattheo, and they're gone.
mattheo doesn't even bother to take his books; he greets, crosses his arms on top of the table, settles his head there— and if you're too slow to understand what's this whole preparation for, well, mattheo has no problem to make his intentions clear, by (much gentler, this time) grabbing your hand and settling it on his head. among his dark curls.
and if you notice that they look softer and taken care of— well, mattheo won't be catch dead and much less alive saying it. but blaise noticed how mattheo bought a new shampoo, conditioner and a weird bottle that seems to help curly hair like mattheo's.
AND HOW DID AN ALL-IN-ONE SHAMPOO USER LIKE MATTTHEO, KNEW WHAT PRODUCTS TO USE IN WHICH ORDER, FROM DAY TO NIGHT? oh, that was easy; mattheo spent an evening leaning against the entrance of the slytherin common room, watching intently every student that entered or left during that hour of the day. his eyes glared up and down— searching for a slytherin, be it a witch or a wizard, older or younger than him, that has a type of hair similar (if not identical) to his.
finally, a slytherin girl was on her way to hang out with her friends. that is, until mattheo nonchalantly grabs her by the collar of her shirt, right when she innocently passes by him, then drags the girl along with him to a secluded corner of the slytherin common room.
( out of love for life and respect for their well-being, it's safe to say that her friends didn't come to save her. though, props to them, because they kept watching... just in case. of, you know, having to search for help. )
the slytherin girl trembles on her spot, rethinking her life choices; wondering if she had done anything to offend mattheo riddle, the dark lord's son— not the psychopath, the unhinged one. when he bends down, so that he's face to face with her, eyes squinting with his jaw clenched...
she closes her eyes. wondering if she'd be punched or have her hair grabbed to be slammed against the wall. however, after awkward ten seconds pass and her body is still intact, she opens one eye, to see mattheo making a grimace.
a grimace that would be funny if he wasn't so scary. a grimace that seemed to ask, 'what the fuck are you doing?'. which would have been verbalized, mind you, if mattheo didn't have a list of priorities at the moment. he opens his mouth, and this slytherin girl feared to have hallucinated such an innocent, random question.
'which products do you use for your hair?'
( ten minutes later, after having explained her hair routine in detail to mattheo riddle himself, who took notes and hummed for her to keep going, the slytherin girl goes back to her friend group. pale. she doesn't give details— no one would believe her. and she doesn't think that mattheo riddle would like having people know that he's about to spend 100 galleons on hair products to please you. )
౨ৎ please understand that i'm trying my hardest, ♡ ͡
my head's a mess, but i'm trying regardless . . .
🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.
— i noticed that i have a few mattheo girlies enjoying my writing, so! please consider this a little bittersweet drabble for you. once again, tysm for the feedback! ♥︎
the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷