100 Moments
folder
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
100
Views:
11,628
Reviews:
52
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
100
Views:
11,628
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.
Hate
Title: Hate
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: M/F, Dark!fic
Summary: #85 – Hate. Until he could find someone to love, he was content to hate her.
Word Count: 937 words.
Author's Notes: Drabble: a slice of fic in less than 1500 words. Suggested by michellecpk.
Prompt 85 – Hate
Every time he thrust inside her thin, pale body, she always expressed the depth of her hatred for him. If Draco Malfoy did not know any better, Cho Chang was singing her love for him.
He was not kind to her body, and he was in no way gentle as his hands pressed bruises into her knees pushing them back so he could slide his cock in deeper. She winced, her dark eyes burning with hatred at the way her body reacted to him. He knew that as much as she hated him, she loved the way he fucked her.
The tiny noises she made were all but ignored, because, in truth, Draco hated her just as much.
Stroking deeper, Draco leaned into her pelvis, the slick sound of his penetration and subsequent withdraw the only sound he cared to hear.
“You not even trying, Chang,” he muttered through gritted teeth, annoyed that her pussy was not clamping tight enough around him and that the angle was affording too much effort on his part.
“Fuck you, Malfoy,” she grunted.
“That is what you should be doing,” he spat, sliding out of her, releasing his hold on the backs of her knees.
The sticky dampness trailing between their bodies did not amuse or arouse him. It never had. It was the hate that did it for him, the fight to see who could outlast the other. And that afternoon, he was in the mood to hurt her more than usual.
With rough hands, Draco twisted Cho’s thin slip of a body so that she was pressed face down into the mattress of her rickety bed in a filthy Diagon Alley flat. How Chang could have sunk so low was beyond Draco’s care. All he cared about was getting off, and getting on with the rest of his day not so ready to explode at the next person to come into his sight. Cho Chang was only an outlet.
Cho hissed as Draco rammed inside her again after lifting her ass into the air, old bruises still marring the white perfection of her skin. Draco hummed to himself, satisfied at the tightness of her core and the angle in which he stroked her. Grasping her hips, he stroked deeper, harder, and faster than before. Cho fisted the rumpled sheets under her, her small breasts swaying with every thrust.
She hated him, and it was evident in the way she clamped her inner muscles down around him, hoping that he would climax first and leave her alone. Then again, it had been she who had called him to her flat…
A particularly violent thrust caused Cho to wail and begin to sob. She knew she was closer.
Draco continued to ignore her voice, finding it obnoxious and in no way conducive to finding his fill in her body. He hated her because she felt so good, so tight, and he hated her because she was little more than a galleon whore. She was pretty when she was painted and dressed, but just as jaded and terrible as she had been after Cedric Diggory died.
Draco grasped her hair in retaliation for his idle thoughts, arching her back so he could soundly fuck her so she would not have the energy to hate him when he was walking out the door.
Sweat trickled between his pectorals to his hard belly, and with a grunt, he pulled Cho back to her knees, thrust into her body as if he were the master of her soul. Cho came first, a throaty scream breaking over sound of the bed springs squealing.
Releasing her hair, Draco allowed her body to fall forward into the bed again, but did not stop his movement in and out of her body. He did not care if she needed time to recover, he did not care much about her at all.
When she came again, her dark eyes distant, her mouth open in gasps, Draco finally let himself go, clenching his teeth as he grasped his cock before filling her. He hated her too much to ever give her his seed in a manner befitting a good woman. With open-mouthed grunts, he stroked his damp cock until streams of pearly cum landed upon her hip, her back, her hair.
For a moment he stared at her tangled limbs and wild, ebon hair, thinking that even thoroughly done, she was still pretty. He had always thought she was pretty in school, but now, years later, she was nothing but a shell, a warm body with no soul. That was the main reason why he hated her. She was nothing.
He did not bother casting a Cleansing Charm on the pale woman, but dressed without a word, glancing into a cracked wall mirror to see that his short, platinum hair was not out of place and that there was no rubbish on his expensive Armani suit.
“I hate you,” she whispered from the bed, not moving, and barely breathing.
“Thanks,” he muttered, smirking at himself in the mirror as he adjusted his tie.
“Don’t come back,” she sobbed.
He rolled his eyes. “If I can find a cheaper whore, I don’t plan on it, Chang.”
He heard her scream in frustration as he had reached the landing halfway down the stairs and out into Diagon Alley. Draco wondered if she hated him so much why she bothered to open her door to him at all.
In the end, Draco knew, it did not really matter. Until he could find someone he could truly love, he was satisfied with hating her completely.
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: M/F, Dark!fic
Summary: #85 – Hate. Until he could find someone to love, he was content to hate her.
Word Count: 937 words.
Author's Notes: Drabble: a slice of fic in less than 1500 words. Suggested by michellecpk.
Prompt 85 – Hate
Every time he thrust inside her thin, pale body, she always expressed the depth of her hatred for him. If Draco Malfoy did not know any better, Cho Chang was singing her love for him.
He was not kind to her body, and he was in no way gentle as his hands pressed bruises into her knees pushing them back so he could slide his cock in deeper. She winced, her dark eyes burning with hatred at the way her body reacted to him. He knew that as much as she hated him, she loved the way he fucked her.
The tiny noises she made were all but ignored, because, in truth, Draco hated her just as much.
Stroking deeper, Draco leaned into her pelvis, the slick sound of his penetration and subsequent withdraw the only sound he cared to hear.
“You not even trying, Chang,” he muttered through gritted teeth, annoyed that her pussy was not clamping tight enough around him and that the angle was affording too much effort on his part.
“Fuck you, Malfoy,” she grunted.
“That is what you should be doing,” he spat, sliding out of her, releasing his hold on the backs of her knees.
The sticky dampness trailing between their bodies did not amuse or arouse him. It never had. It was the hate that did it for him, the fight to see who could outlast the other. And that afternoon, he was in the mood to hurt her more than usual.
With rough hands, Draco twisted Cho’s thin slip of a body so that she was pressed face down into the mattress of her rickety bed in a filthy Diagon Alley flat. How Chang could have sunk so low was beyond Draco’s care. All he cared about was getting off, and getting on with the rest of his day not so ready to explode at the next person to come into his sight. Cho Chang was only an outlet.
Cho hissed as Draco rammed inside her again after lifting her ass into the air, old bruises still marring the white perfection of her skin. Draco hummed to himself, satisfied at the tightness of her core and the angle in which he stroked her. Grasping her hips, he stroked deeper, harder, and faster than before. Cho fisted the rumpled sheets under her, her small breasts swaying with every thrust.
She hated him, and it was evident in the way she clamped her inner muscles down around him, hoping that he would climax first and leave her alone. Then again, it had been she who had called him to her flat…
A particularly violent thrust caused Cho to wail and begin to sob. She knew she was closer.
Draco continued to ignore her voice, finding it obnoxious and in no way conducive to finding his fill in her body. He hated her because she felt so good, so tight, and he hated her because she was little more than a galleon whore. She was pretty when she was painted and dressed, but just as jaded and terrible as she had been after Cedric Diggory died.
Draco grasped her hair in retaliation for his idle thoughts, arching her back so he could soundly fuck her so she would not have the energy to hate him when he was walking out the door.
Sweat trickled between his pectorals to his hard belly, and with a grunt, he pulled Cho back to her knees, thrust into her body as if he were the master of her soul. Cho came first, a throaty scream breaking over sound of the bed springs squealing.
Releasing her hair, Draco allowed her body to fall forward into the bed again, but did not stop his movement in and out of her body. He did not care if she needed time to recover, he did not care much about her at all.
When she came again, her dark eyes distant, her mouth open in gasps, Draco finally let himself go, clenching his teeth as he grasped his cock before filling her. He hated her too much to ever give her his seed in a manner befitting a good woman. With open-mouthed grunts, he stroked his damp cock until streams of pearly cum landed upon her hip, her back, her hair.
For a moment he stared at her tangled limbs and wild, ebon hair, thinking that even thoroughly done, she was still pretty. He had always thought she was pretty in school, but now, years later, she was nothing but a shell, a warm body with no soul. That was the main reason why he hated her. She was nothing.
He did not bother casting a Cleansing Charm on the pale woman, but dressed without a word, glancing into a cracked wall mirror to see that his short, platinum hair was not out of place and that there was no rubbish on his expensive Armani suit.
“I hate you,” she whispered from the bed, not moving, and barely breathing.
“Thanks,” he muttered, smirking at himself in the mirror as he adjusted his tie.
“Don’t come back,” she sobbed.
He rolled his eyes. “If I can find a cheaper whore, I don’t plan on it, Chang.”
He heard her scream in frustration as he had reached the landing halfway down the stairs and out into Diagon Alley. Draco wondered if she hated him so much why she bothered to open her door to him at all.
In the end, Draco knew, it did not really matter. Until he could find someone he could truly love, he was satisfied with hating her completely.