100 Moments
folder
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
100
Views:
10,627
Reviews:
52
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
100
Views:
10,627
Reviews:
52
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Sixth Sense
Title: Sixth Sense
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Drabble
Warnings: Dark!fic, BP
Summary: #35 – Sixth Sense
Word Count: 836 words.
Author's Notes: Drabble: a slice of fic in less than 1500 words.
Prompt 35 – Sixth Sense
There was a type of sixth sense shared between them, one that let her knew exactly what he wanted from her, and one that would tell him that she did not want to keep doing this…
Most of her inner wishes and desires were never met, but his—his wishes and desire where what she was there to fulfill. When she heard his smooth voice slithering through her mind, she had to comply. When he told her to lie very still, she did.
She was his toy, his experiment, and his outlet. As she lay very still, the cold air making the goose pimples rise on her milky skin, she waited, eyes open for whatever it was he wanted to do.
The hiss of a voice speaking serpentine words made her lips quiver. She did not understand Parseltongue, but there was something about it that made her insides twitch and squirm pleasantly. It had always been that way, from the first time she heard him speak it.
His cool fingers ran along the inside of her left knee, trailing upward to her thigh.
‘So beautiful,’ he would whisper into her mind.
As she grew older, he seemed pleased by the way her body filled out, her bones lengthened. He was delighted at how her scent tasted, his tongue lashing out to taste the air around her throat, her breasts, her cunt.
Lying on the hard stone dais, she tried her best not to move as his finger slipped between her thighs to the dark auburn curls.
‘I have been waiting a long time for this…’
She knew. She had been waiting years for her body to catch up with her desires and dreams. She had been hiding her need, her passion from everyone, just for this very moment.
His dark eyes stared down into her face, a trace of red in those depths. He only ever showed her his most handsome face, though she knew very well what was hidden underneath.
‘I want this.’
She is not sure if she had said it or he. His long, cold fingers slipped inside her body, stretching and probing. She knew she winced, and the expression delighted him. She was wet, and she was bleeding. She had saved herself for that very moment.
His mouth opened to speak, but in riddles and whispered phrases foreign to her ears, something that was not Parseltongue. He was collecting her virginal blood.
‘You grant me a boon.”
When he crawls over her body, like a pale and perfect god, he is gentle with her, spreading her wide, nostrils flaring to take in the scent of her.
Kiss me.
He does, tongue slipping into her mouth as his cock brushes and slips against her most tender of flesh.
Fill me.
He does, and she wonders if his magnanimity will last. The pain of his penetration sends her eyes up into her skull as his mouth pulls away, long tongue lapping at her mouth, her face, and her open eyes.
The tearing sensation between her thighs makes her body rigid, more so than ever, and the hand clutching her breast nearly equals the pain, nails digging into her skin.
He moves at last, a brutal ramming, smearing blood between their bodies.
‘I want to bathe in it,’ he whispers into her mind.
She wants to touch him, but she knows he would never allow it. Instead, she contents herself with his harsh touch and attentions. He swells and moves inside her, breaching past more than her maidenhead. He is deep inside her, implanting himself, branding his shattered soul into her viscera.
Their shared sixth sense intensifies and she can hear the vaguest of his thoughts. He wants to rip her open, eat her whole. He wants to make her remember whom she belonged to, from the very start.
She screams aloud, rewarded with a sharp strike across the face for impertinence. She feels too full, too much, and too quickly. It is a pain that required death, of a sort. He does not make a sound as he lifts her legs to wrap about his waist, pressing in deeper so that she can feel him trying to tear into her womb.
Perhaps it had been a mistake to come, she thought.
‘No mistake, Ginerva.’
No, it was not a mistake.
‘Touch me.’
A wish granted, her arms wrap about his neck, and he kisses her again, softer this time, almost lovingly. She touches the scaly softness of his hairless chest, the expanse of his back, pulling herself against him, upward so that each thrust is deeper, more terrible.
The scent of her blood exhilarates her, as it does him, and he holds her close, her body minuscule compared to his. He had promised her pain and pleasure, and the rasp of his skin against her nubbin brings just that.
They whisper together without saying a word. He knew what she wanted, and she knew what he planned to do.
She could show no fear.
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Drabble
Warnings: Dark!fic, BP
Summary: #35 – Sixth Sense
Word Count: 836 words.
Author's Notes: Drabble: a slice of fic in less than 1500 words.
Prompt 35 – Sixth Sense
There was a type of sixth sense shared between them, one that let her knew exactly what he wanted from her, and one that would tell him that she did not want to keep doing this…
Most of her inner wishes and desires were never met, but his—his wishes and desire where what she was there to fulfill. When she heard his smooth voice slithering through her mind, she had to comply. When he told her to lie very still, she did.
She was his toy, his experiment, and his outlet. As she lay very still, the cold air making the goose pimples rise on her milky skin, she waited, eyes open for whatever it was he wanted to do.
The hiss of a voice speaking serpentine words made her lips quiver. She did not understand Parseltongue, but there was something about it that made her insides twitch and squirm pleasantly. It had always been that way, from the first time she heard him speak it.
His cool fingers ran along the inside of her left knee, trailing upward to her thigh.
‘So beautiful,’ he would whisper into her mind.
As she grew older, he seemed pleased by the way her body filled out, her bones lengthened. He was delighted at how her scent tasted, his tongue lashing out to taste the air around her throat, her breasts, her cunt.
Lying on the hard stone dais, she tried her best not to move as his finger slipped between her thighs to the dark auburn curls.
‘I have been waiting a long time for this…’
She knew. She had been waiting years for her body to catch up with her desires and dreams. She had been hiding her need, her passion from everyone, just for this very moment.
His dark eyes stared down into her face, a trace of red in those depths. He only ever showed her his most handsome face, though she knew very well what was hidden underneath.
‘I want this.’
She is not sure if she had said it or he. His long, cold fingers slipped inside her body, stretching and probing. She knew she winced, and the expression delighted him. She was wet, and she was bleeding. She had saved herself for that very moment.
His mouth opened to speak, but in riddles and whispered phrases foreign to her ears, something that was not Parseltongue. He was collecting her virginal blood.
‘You grant me a boon.”
When he crawls over her body, like a pale and perfect god, he is gentle with her, spreading her wide, nostrils flaring to take in the scent of her.
Kiss me.
He does, tongue slipping into her mouth as his cock brushes and slips against her most tender of flesh.
Fill me.
He does, and she wonders if his magnanimity will last. The pain of his penetration sends her eyes up into her skull as his mouth pulls away, long tongue lapping at her mouth, her face, and her open eyes.
The tearing sensation between her thighs makes her body rigid, more so than ever, and the hand clutching her breast nearly equals the pain, nails digging into her skin.
He moves at last, a brutal ramming, smearing blood between their bodies.
‘I want to bathe in it,’ he whispers into her mind.
She wants to touch him, but she knows he would never allow it. Instead, she contents herself with his harsh touch and attentions. He swells and moves inside her, breaching past more than her maidenhead. He is deep inside her, implanting himself, branding his shattered soul into her viscera.
Their shared sixth sense intensifies and she can hear the vaguest of his thoughts. He wants to rip her open, eat her whole. He wants to make her remember whom she belonged to, from the very start.
She screams aloud, rewarded with a sharp strike across the face for impertinence. She feels too full, too much, and too quickly. It is a pain that required death, of a sort. He does not make a sound as he lifts her legs to wrap about his waist, pressing in deeper so that she can feel him trying to tear into her womb.
Perhaps it had been a mistake to come, she thought.
‘No mistake, Ginerva.’
No, it was not a mistake.
‘Touch me.’
A wish granted, her arms wrap about his neck, and he kisses her again, softer this time, almost lovingly. She touches the scaly softness of his hairless chest, the expanse of his back, pulling herself against him, upward so that each thrust is deeper, more terrible.
The scent of her blood exhilarates her, as it does him, and he holds her close, her body minuscule compared to his. He had promised her pain and pleasure, and the rasp of his skin against her nubbin brings just that.
They whisper together without saying a word. He knew what she wanted, and she knew what he planned to do.
She could show no fear.