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er. ficlet. thing. er.
er. Okay. Ages and ages ago (and yet not so nearly long ago as ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ishuca's challenge for the pudding fic) red_moon_rising said: Would you write me a fic? With two lines in it.
Line #1: "I want to destroy something beautiful".
Line #2: "Even angels fall."
So here it is.
Rating: NC-17 for violence
You weren’t expecting to see him—you had been in a moment of rare silence in between bouts of misusing your prefect status when he appeared. The gloss of green hinting out from behind the eye shine of glass unnerves you. “You really shouldn’t be around here,” you say haughtily, adjusting your prefect badge and crossing your arms.
He doesn’t say anything.
“Cat got your tongue, then?” You ask, and look to the side, narrowing your eyes. “Your friends aren’t around to pick up after you.”
He shakes his head, and it’s the silence that starts to worry you.
“What is it that you want?” You ask almost fearfully, backing slowly away from his dark form.
His face is nearly hidden in the shadows when he finally decides to speak. “I want to destroy something beautiful.”
And then he’s on you, fingers snagging on the fabric of your cloak, bitten nails digging into your flesh. You hit the floor with a soft grunt; arms tangled in your clothes and pulled back sharply enough to hurt, teeth pulling angrily at your neck as he jerks your trousers down.
He shoves you down onto the floor, and you can feel the crease of each block branding itself on your cheek, your breath coming in quick, hot, pants as he pushes into you, no lubrication, no preparation, just him pressing into you against you around you—
It hurts, oh gods, it hurts, but his penetration is easing—some rational part of you says you’re probably bleeding—he jerks on your arms again and you arch your back, taut as a bow string as he settles you fully on his lap, kneeling, with your legs spread over his thighs. You feel yourself rip, and your scream is silenced from the pressure of his fingers against your mouth. He’s still moving in you as your body vainly tries to adjust to his intrusion, and your head is whirling like the time in second year when you went head over heels off your broomstick, the way the world spun and never seemed to stop moving and Pansy had said that although you were an angel, even angels fall, and now you can’t remember whether that meant that you were an angel or that he was an angel because you’re both falling—
You are falling, you realize in stunned disbelief as you reacquaint yourself with the cold floor. He is hot above you, and you spit out blood from when you bit your tongue. Your fingernails break as you try to find some sort of purchase on the floor to push up, push away; you can’t decide which you actually want to do because it all hurts and his fist is tangled in your hair to jerk your head up, biting and licking at your throat and you can feel his hot breath against your ear. But you remember what he said.
You release a moan that causes him to whimper, and then he’s coming in you, still thrusting as he shudders, and you can’t help but smile.
Harry Potter called you beautiful.
You can’t help but surrender.
ishuca's challenge for the pudding fic) red_moon_rising said: Would you write me a fic? With two lines in it.Line #1: "I want to destroy something beautiful".
Line #2: "Even angels fall."
So here it is.
Rating: NC-17 for violence
You weren’t expecting to see him—you had been in a moment of rare silence in between bouts of misusing your prefect status when he appeared. The gloss of green hinting out from behind the eye shine of glass unnerves you. “You really shouldn’t be around here,” you say haughtily, adjusting your prefect badge and crossing your arms.
He doesn’t say anything.
“Cat got your tongue, then?” You ask, and look to the side, narrowing your eyes. “Your friends aren’t around to pick up after you.”
He shakes his head, and it’s the silence that starts to worry you.
“What is it that you want?” You ask almost fearfully, backing slowly away from his dark form.
His face is nearly hidden in the shadows when he finally decides to speak. “I want to destroy something beautiful.”
And then he’s on you, fingers snagging on the fabric of your cloak, bitten nails digging into your flesh. You hit the floor with a soft grunt; arms tangled in your clothes and pulled back sharply enough to hurt, teeth pulling angrily at your neck as he jerks your trousers down.
He shoves you down onto the floor, and you can feel the crease of each block branding itself on your cheek, your breath coming in quick, hot, pants as he pushes into you, no lubrication, no preparation, just him pressing into you against you around you—
It hurts, oh gods, it hurts, but his penetration is easing—some rational part of you says you’re probably bleeding—he jerks on your arms again and you arch your back, taut as a bow string as he settles you fully on his lap, kneeling, with your legs spread over his thighs. You feel yourself rip, and your scream is silenced from the pressure of his fingers against your mouth. He’s still moving in you as your body vainly tries to adjust to his intrusion, and your head is whirling like the time in second year when you went head over heels off your broomstick, the way the world spun and never seemed to stop moving and Pansy had said that although you were an angel, even angels fall, and now you can’t remember whether that meant that you were an angel or that he was an angel because you’re both falling—
You are falling, you realize in stunned disbelief as you reacquaint yourself with the cold floor. He is hot above you, and you spit out blood from when you bit your tongue. Your fingernails break as you try to find some sort of purchase on the floor to push up, push away; you can’t decide which you actually want to do because it all hurts and his fist is tangled in your hair to jerk your head up, biting and licking at your throat and you can feel his hot breath against your ear. But you remember what he said.
You release a moan that causes him to whimper, and then he’s coming in you, still thrusting as he shudders, and you can’t help but smile.
Harry Potter called you beautiful.
You can’t help but surrender.
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Oh my goodness.
This is just madly beautiful.
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YES! Of course it is, dearling.
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Don't worry. With my magic *thwap* powers, you can now see how beautiful your rape!fic is.
Oh, just realized how weird that sounds.
But it is. You did a marvelously job.
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You can’t help but surrender.
Ohgod. That was intense.
You are amazing.
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[falls over, dead]
you are one sick and twisted little pervert. and i love you. :D
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it's 5:12, where are you?!! [whines] i babysit tonight from 6 until it's past midnight for you! [misses]
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I love you too.