yes-sirr

[yes-sirr]

fool - h. potter && d. malfoy

virgin losers - harrys group

masterlist

[yes-sirr]

nsfw sideblogs r so funny. my friend we can't talk here it isn't safe.. we have to go to sex world together

[yes-sirr]

draco³

[yes-sirr]

wound: @drarrymicrofic (50 words)

Harry almost lost him. Hit by a curse on a routine call, Draco’s pale face in the dirt was Harry’s undoing.

The hospital’s quiet when Draco wakes. He blinks down at Harry, sleeping. Their hands are linked.

“Yes,” Ron says drily from the other chair. “He’s in love with you. Surprise.”

[yes-sirr]

[yes-sirr]

June Microfics Pt 4

@drarrymicrofic prompt: wound

pt 1 (inhale) | pt 2 (ground) | pt 3 (slander) | ao3

Draco's in the common room, hunched over a table and flipping through a book with those long, pale fingers. Deep in thought, if the pink tip of his tongue poking out from between his lips is any indication. He's been studying all day and Harry misses him. Draco calls him needy, but the word sounds sweet in his mouth. Sticky and sugary, treacle tart on his tongue. It always sounds like that when he talks about Harry now. 'Annoying' and 'insufferable' have become synonyms for 'adorable' and 'love of my life.' Harry wants to lick the words from Draco's mouth and swallow them down.

Harry wanders up behind him. Buries his nose into Draco's flaxen hair, breathes him in because he can do that now. He presses a kiss to the top of Draco's head and his hands come to rest on sharp, tense shoulders.

"Merlin, you're so tightly-wound all the time," Harry murmurs, digging his thumbs into the taut muscle through Draco's perfectly pressed oxford.

"Because you wind me up," Draco snaps, and Harry purses his lips, biting back a smile.

Draco sighs and turns to Harry. He doesn't voice his apology, but Harry can see it in his face. The slight pout of his lips, the wrinkle of his brow. Harry kisses him again, right on the wrinkle.

"Well," Harry smirks, tugging on Draco's tie, "maybe we should unwind. In the prefect's bath. Together. Without clothes on."

Draco rolls his eyes. "You're as subtle as a cursed bludger, Potter." He flips his book shut and with a lazy wave of his wand, sends it flying back to his dormitory. Then he stands and saunters through the common room towards the exit. Harry watches for a moment. The long lines of him, all his grace and confidence, the curve of his stupidly perfect arse through his school trousers. He's sure Draco can feel his eyes on him because he stops, turns, and quirks a brow at Harry. "Are you coming or not?"

"Oh. Yes. Coming." Harry nearly trips over his own feet in his haste and sends Neville toppling over onto a couch as he sprints by him. He grabs Draco by the hand and yanks him out into the castle, their laughter bouncing off the stone walls as they run.

Their friends are surely sick of their antics, but Harry doesn't care. He's pretty sure he's earned a bit of PDA, being the Chosen One and all that.

[yes-sirr]

June Microfics Pt 3

@drarrymicrofic prompt: slander

pt 1 (inhale) here | pt 2 (ground) here | pt 4 (wound) here | ao3

"If we keep meeting like this, people will start to say you like me," Malfoy drawls, hair damp and cheeks pink.

They're just outside the Prefect's bath. Harry has access because he's the Chosen One. Malfoy has access because he bullied the password out of Nott.

"Lies," Harry says playfully. "Slander, even."

He's all Harry can smell. A cool, rainy spring day. A cracked window in the library, a black coffee on the table and petrichor wafting in from the grounds. It's ridiculous, the effect it has on Harry- he's waxing poetic, for Merlin's sake.

"Not so sure about that. I think I've got a pretty good read on you by now."

The thought sparks something in Harry. Malfoy, thumbing through his pages with his nimble fingers, trailing a finger down his spine. Annotating his margins and committing his favorite passages to memory. He wants to be well loved paperback that Malfoy carries in the back pocket of his trousers, with him all the time, intimately familiar.

"I, er..." He should say something clever, but he's quickly losing his head. Malfoy is standing so close. "I like... books?"

Malfoy looks at him like he's an imbecile, because he is one. "I don't believe you. You don't even sound like you believe you."

"Finger my pages," Harry blurts out, and Malfoy's brow furrows in confusion.

"What the fuck?"

Well. He's royally fucked it now. It's not like it can get any worse.

Harry leans in and kisses Malfoy hard on the mouth.

[yes-sirr]

June Microfics Pt 2

@drarrymicrofic prompt: ground

pt 1 (inhale) here | pt 3 (slander) here | pt 4 (wound) here | ao3

It's a Friday evening and Harry finds himself in the library. His friends are back in the common room, likely putting a dent in their stash of firewhiskey, but Harry isn't in the mood to socialize that day.

Draco sits with him, holding a vial of mystery potion in one hand and a container of coffee grounds in the other. They're meant to be reverse engineering a random mystery potion. Harry's completely out of his depth, but Draco seems to be having a grand old time. He holds the vial up in the waning sunlight.

"S'not wolfsbane," Draco murmurs, scribbling some notes onto his parchment. "Too light."

Draco sniffs the coffee grounds, to "clear his nose" as he likes to say, then the potion. Glances briefly at Harry, sniffs it again. His cheeks are pink, grey eyes deadly focused on the vial.

"What?" Harry asks distractedly. Draco sticks his tongue out when he concentrates. It's adorable. He can't believe Slughorn has partnered them up- it's like he's trying to kill him.

"Tell me what it smells like to you," Draco says, and hands Harry the vial. Harry gives it a whiff.

Coffee. Juniper. Old books.

Harry frowns. "Did Slughorn get ahold of your bath potions or something?"

Draco smirks. Harry's heart drops. He watches as Draco scrawls out amortentia onto the parchment. Circles it. Underlines it.

Fuck.

[yes-sirr]

i hate how non-canon ships have become so controversial nowadays, like i just miss how most people were multi-shippers. we even used to ship characters that were in different fandoms, what happened to that??

[yes-sirr]

Prompt: wound. @drarrymicrofic. Britpick: @vmcgmidlifecrisis. Beta: @joonkorre

Fucking Potter.

He’s inexplicably everywhere: the Ministry atrium, the recreational Quidditch league, the pub on Friday nights. Potter has opened a festering wound in Draco, infected with his Potterness.

His lickable dimples, his terrible hair, his wild laugh. Those fucking eyes and his thighs.

Now Draco is rhyming. It’s insufferable. He’s ruined.

Pansy insisted they switch pubs to avoid his whinging and yet again: there’s Potter, surrounded by his red-haired sycophants.

That’s it. Draco slams down his glass of elf-made wine, then decides to knock it back under Pansy’s amused gaze, slams down the glass again.

His feet carry him over to Potter and his ilk.

“A word?” Draco grabs Potter by his unfortunately sculpted bicep.

Strangling the Head Auror probably isn’t a wise move to rebuild his reputation.

“Oh hey, Malfoy,” Potter says with a winsome smile.

Potter shakes off the Weasel and Weaselette. Draco drags him to a shadowy corner to confront him.

In the corner, Draco stares Potter down. “Are you stalking me again?”

The absolute idiot grins. Grins! “If that’s what you want to call it.” He bites his lip. “Would you like to go out for dinner tomorrow?”

Draco’s mind shuts down. He opens and closes his mouth like a knob.

Harry smirks.

[yes-sirr]

What Dreams Are Made Of a continuation of Face Card Never Declines

Surely it’s a fever dream, Potter kissing him.

Draco cinches in his fist black curls wound tight round his fingertips.

He chases Potter’s grimace because fuck, even Potter’s chapped lips are sexy.

“Eager are we?”

“Eager to hex your—” 

“Fuck”—Potter crowds him against the wall—“I like it, yeah?”

***

23 june prompt: wound

a part of my Microfic, I Love You collection 50 words || prompts by @drarrymicrofic

[yes-sirr]

healer

@drarrymicrofic, 417 words. prompt: wound. cw: infidelity (not between drarry), mild nsfw, injury, implied possible self-harm and wound kink

There are wounds beneath his shirt, under the legs of his trousers. A nasty curse trapped right beside his heart too, just for good measure. Draco barely feels any of them over the hammering in his chest.

"Potter," he says, knowing he looks as smug as he sounds, as he watches Potter march into the room in his Healer robes.

He never looks happy to see him, at first. Something in Draco revels in it. It's easier, this way.

"You know, there are other ways too—if you wanted to see me."

"Ah, but don't insult me, Potter." Draco leans his body to the side, shirt revealing a bloodied collarbone, and watches green eyes follow the new lines on him. "Merely another accident—you do remember what it was like being an Auror with me, don't you? Though, while I am here—"

Hands reaching to clutch green fabric, Draco pulls warmth that has become both his salve and episkey—the reason for all his wounds—close against him.

"Every week," Potter says. Breathless, already. "You—I see you here every week."

It's not Draco's fault that Robards keeps giving him risky missions. Not that Draco would ask, or settle for anything less, either. Just like Potter, who makes sure he is the one to take Draco in whenever he shows up at Mungo's.

But this week, it isn't quite the same. Draco was made to wait. He swallows his dread down, and pulls Potter down over him on the hospital bed he's become quite familiar with.

"There's a rumor going around, you know."

He breathes it into Potter's mouth so he doesn't have to look into his eyes.

"There is."

Potter's magic brushes over Draco as his hands move across him—the intimate touch assessing, possessive of the cuts he is to heal, jealous of ones that aren't his.

"Are you going to?" Draco's voice is quiet. Desperation has made him gentle—he hates it. Just like he hates Potter for making him ask this. "Marry her, I mean?"

Potter slips hands under Draco’s shirt, fingers splayed wide and firm across his wounds. This time, Draco feels them—where Potter’s attention goes has never been easy to ignore.

Potter means it to hurt. Still, he buries his head into the crook of Draco's neck, as if insatiable for the one place where he is yet to be marked.

"I don't know, Malfoy. Am I? I'm not the one who already wears a ring on his finger."

[yes-sirr]

my most extreme weirdest kink is being wanted. my tamest kink is knife play

[yes-sirr]

The Case of the Missing Cookies

@drarrymicrofic | words: 69 | prompt: slander

“Don’t listen, Papa!” Jamie wailed, stomping his little foot. “Dada tells lies!”

“So you didn’t eat cookies before dinner— even when Dada said no?” Draco quirked a brow, trying to hold a serious face.

“No! It’s all slamder!” Jamie huffed.

His lips twitched thoughtfully as he knelt down to squish the little culprit’s cheeks between his fingers.

“Slamder, you say?” he pondered, swiping a crumb from his son’s cheek.

[yes-sirr]

Kintsugi

[yes-sirr]

for @drarrymicrofic | prompt: wound | wc: 54

Kiss it Better

“You’re bleeding.” 

“Observation worthy of Ravenclaw, Potter.” 

“Let me see.” 

“You already do.” 

“Stop deflecting.” 

“Stop caring.” 

“Impossible.”

Silence settles like dust.

“It’s just a scratch.” 

“On your soul, maybe.” 

“Then kiss it better.”

Heartbeat. 

“Say please.” 

“Please.”

Their mouths meet—iron-salt, rain on old stone—until the world forgets where wounds end and want begins.

[yes-sirr]

Harry doesn’t know how they wound up here, but he’s not complaining.

“Fuck,” Malfoy hisses, shoving his thigh more firmly between Harry’s legs, thrusting hot, again, again, against his hip.

Harry doesn’t answer, too busy sucking bruises down his long, pale neck, praying Robards doesn’t open the fucking store cupboard.

Wound @drarrymicrofic {50 words}