Okay, so here is the repost of the rarepair
requests I got on the drabble meme. Consider everything disclaimed.Title:
Harry PotterWord count:
Fleur comes up to Cho in the library – and the library’s the traditional place for Ravenclaws, after all.Warnings:
A double-drabble for klashfor
, who requested Fleur/Cho, kissing.
The haughty French champion came up to Cho in the library. Fleur moved with easy grace, as if she knew the boys were watching her and accepted it as her due. Cho – pretty, but fifteen and not yet grown into it – was envious. “Would you show me where I can find books on aquatic mammals?”
“All right,” Cho said, though she didn’t see why Fleur couldn’t have commanded Roger to do it. She lead the way to a dim aisle, then turned to Fleur. “This is it – ”
Fleur slid a soft hand onto her waist. Cho froze, unmoving under the butterfly-light touch. Fleur’s blue eyes were bright, and a smile curved her full lips a moment before she leant in and pressed them to Cho’s.
Cho gasped into her mouth. Fleur kissed with unmistakable certainty: a girl with experience, knowing how to kiss with soft pressure, to coax a response, to tease with a sliding tongue.
Cho backed unconsciously against a bookcase as Fleur crowded her. Both Fleur’s hands were on her waist now, holding her against it. Cho shivered as the taller girl slipped her tongue into her mouth.
Maybe French girls weren’t a bad thing after all.Title:
Harry PotterWord count:
Probably hard RSummary:
Draco’s helpless and terrified. Rabastan has a knife.Warnings: non-con,
This was written for melusinahp
, who requested Rabastan/Draco, blade
and for deathlydragon
, who seconded it.
Rabastan ran the flat of the blade down Draco’s cheekbone. He shuddered, turning his face away from the cold metal. Rabastan reached down and took hold of his hair. “Stay still.”
The shackles clinked as the boy shuddered. Lust squirmed in Rabastan’s stomach.
He ran the knife down Draco’s cheek again: not the flat this time. A thin cut opened up along the length of his right cheek, blood pooling quickly.
The boy whimpered. He was shaking, his eyes clenched shut. His body was taut with the effort of not pulling away, not fighting with all he had.
Malfoy was flat on his back on a sarcophagus. Despoiling him in the Malfoy mausoleum, the house of his cowardly, two-faced fathers, had been too much for Rabastan to resist.
He laid the tip of the knife very gently in the hollow of Draco’s throat. Draco’s eyes sprung open again, near-panic.
The terror there was exquisite.
The boy knew that to fight would bring down terror on his parents, so he held still. Rabastan had a nasty idea, and picking up his wand in his other hand, he waved it. The shackles fell away, leaving Malfoy free.
“Now hold still.”~*~
Malfoy was trembling harder than ever, but he couldn’t leave. Watching him hold himself there through sheer force of will made Rabastan’s blood run hot.
He slid the knife down, slicing into Malfoy’s robes. The expensive cloth split apart, revealing the pale, scarred chest and the soft, vulnerable flesh of his stomach. Malfoy’s stomach jumped as the blade crossed it.
His pointed face was tight. He was trying so hard not to move, to simply submit.
At a gesture, he sat up a little and sloughed off his ruined robes, to lie back naked and defenceless.
“Now, spread your legs.”Title:
Mrs Malfoy’s EntertainmentFandom:
Harry PotterWord count:
She is the consummate hostess.Warnings:
infidelity, obviouslyAuthor’s Notes:
timeasmymeasure over on Dreamwidth requested Kingsley/Narcissa, the Minister and the Lady
“Minister,” she returned. Her hand touched his for a brief moment before she stepped back, turning the moonbeam of her perfect smile on another guest.
She returned before long, with an opponent of Muggleborn rights. “Kingsley, have you met dear Archie? He’s frightfully funny, do tell the Minister that story about the copper cauldron...” And she was gone. The bitch.
Such a mistress of politics, a queen of the backroom deal: floating, in her long robes, on a wind of rumour.
None of them guessing, despite that faint wince, that she’d just been fucked raw by the Minister.Title:
Fucking Like The World’s About To EndFandom:
Harry PotterWord count:
Harry associates Charlie with fire. But ice works, too.Warnings:
Crudest reference to Robert Frost ever, y/y? la_mariane
requested Charlie/Harry, ice
Harry associated Charlie with fire. Warmth, danger, dragons, hearth and home, sex that set the bed aflame: all those things were Charlie things. But now he was naked under Charlie, and the other man had an ice-cube in one strong hand, he was thinking ice might fit him too.
Charlie pressed the ice-cube to Harry’s right nipple. It instantly hardened, Harry’s flesh pressing the ice as if begging for more. Harry gasped, the cold sending shockwaves through his nerves. Then Charlie pulled it away and sealed his hot mouth over the nipple, teasing and tugging it until Harry groaned aloud.
Charlie chuckled against his damp flesh, and slid his mouth downwards in a hot trail over his chest and abdomen, before sealing it over the head of Harry’s cock.
Harry moaned. The sound was broken by a gasp: Charlie had pressed the ice-cube to his balls. He groaned in almost-protest at the contrast. Shocking cold and hot suction worked in concert until he was twisting on the sheets. The ice-cube was melting now, chill liquid trickling down the length of his cock until he ached with the cold. Charlie followed the trail with his mouth.
Then a sliver of ice was at his hole and Charlie had sucked down his cock and Harry was blind with sensation, howling as the ice was pushed inside and Charlie deep-throated him.
The cold and the heat and the shock and the suction – Harry’s toes curled and his fingers grabbed at Charlie’s hair as he roared a fucking spectacular orgasm.
Charlie raised his head as Harry lay fuzzily in the afterglow. He was grinning.
“Okay, you were right,” Harry said grumpily.Title:
Taking It From The TopFandom:
Harry Potter/White Collar crossoverWord count:
Harry Potter/Neal CaffreyRating:
Neal’s quite happy to take it from
the top, Auror Potter.Warnings:
gagging, slight dub-conAuthor’s Notes:
This was for subtle_shades
, who requested Harry/Neal, any kink.
“All right, Mr Caffrey,” Harry said, “why don’t we take it from the top.”
“I love taking it from the top,” Neal tossed back, his face alight with amusement. “And feds are so much more boring than Aurors when it comes to interesting positions.”
“Like the position you took with the FBI, despite knowing it was a breach of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy?”
Neal’s response was witty, charming, credible, and utter bollocks. He wasn’t going to cooperate as long as he felt in control: as long as he could con them.
Harry Summoned a ballgag.
“Hey, what – ” ~*~
“Open wide.” After a long, tense moment of those intense blue eyes trained on the gag, Neal opened his mouth: he wasn’t a fighter. “Nothing that comes out of your mouth is going to be helpful right now.” Harry slipped the ball into Neal’s mouth, stretching those lush lips, and strapped on the gag.
Neal looked up at him appealingly with those big blue eyes. Harry smiled.
Harry fucked him thoroughly, leaving bruises on hips and shoulders, feeling the tight heat of Neal’s arse and smelling his musk.
Neal’s whimpering cries never let up, and he half-screamed when he came.Title:
“Martha liked glasses: she’d always wished the Doctor wore his more.”Warnings:
This was for magic_at_mungos
, who requested Tosh, glasses.
Tosh was wearing contacts when Martha first saw her, but she’d still clocked the pretty woman with demure clothes and a slightly naughty smile.
When she came back after Owen’s death, Tosh was hiding red eyes behind her glasses. It wasn’t until Martha got them drunk, just the two of them on the Hub steps, that Tosh started to cry.
Martha reached forward, and slid Tosh’s glasses off her face. Tosh blinked at her, her eyes not quite focussing until they reached Martha’s lips.
Her kiss tasted of salt.Title:
‘One Girl’ My ArseFandom:
“Buffy swore that if she ended up a notch on Faith’s bedpost, she’d be a fucking fantastic
This was written for woldy
, who requested Buffy/Faith, notch in the bedpost.
Slayer senses told Buffy when a vampire was near. When Angel kissed her, there was an edge of adrenaline – time to fight!
-- every moment.
Faith was different. She felt wrong but perfect
too: the Slayerness that only one girl should have added frisson to every touch.
Having that sensation between your legs, it turned out, was amazing. Faith’s hot mouth was on her, eating her out with enthusiasm, groaning against Buffy’s slick flesh as she left fingerprint bruises on her thighs.
Buffy swore that if she ended up a notch on Faith’s bedpost, she’d be a fucking fantastic