There's something seriously wrong with me today...
My first HBP fic! My first Potterverse fic in over a year!
And it's...Gauntcest, with bestiality.
Well, I'll blame it on sazzlette, who requested Marvolo/Morfin/snake. Because that's exactly what it is (with implications of Merope/Tom and Morfin/Merope).
Title: Charmed
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: NC-17 for sheer grossness.
Author's Notes: They're speaking Parseltongue, of course. I did not try to render that phonetically.
Charmed
“She’s watching. I told you. Come and see.” It was a nasty, high-pitched giggle he gave as he spied on his sister, beckoning his father.
Marvolo crept up beside his son, growling, brow furrowed. “He’s fucking filthy. Fucking filthy Muggle.”
“I should show that little bitch,” laughed Morfin, thick garden snake twining through his hands. There were three dead ones nailed to the door now. “She’s so hot for some fucking nasty Muggle prick, I should show her a real one.” The snake looked up at him in shock. He squeezed its neck warningly.
“Wouldn’t be the first time, would it?” Marvolo sneered indifferently. “But better your brat on her than his.”
“Gaunts’ve done it before, ain’t we?” Morfin giggled. “All pure. All clean. All us.” Completely unselfconsciously he forced the snake up his thigh, just thinking about it. The snake shuddered, but that just felt good to the squirming wizard. The constrictor had been the best until it got too grabby and he’d had to break it. Pity.
“Could be worse,” Marvolo agreed, pressing up against Morfin’s hunched back, long arms reaching around. “You’re so right about that Squib slut. If you want to fuck her, go ahead. I wouldn’t touch it. Could barely stand your mother, rot her soul.”
Morfin sniggered. “Nah, I don’t like witches so much. Wet and squishy. Slimy. More like a slug than a snake,” and as the unfortunate obligated reptile rubbed against his member, coiled tight about his hips; he slithered his hand around to charm his father’s serpent, which also responded so well in Parseltongue. Tasted good. Salty and creamy. He was a Parselmouth, that’s what they called it. Nice parcel in his mouth. All coiled up in the belly, waiting to strike.
Marvolo grunted. “Shouldn’t do that, boy.” It was perfunctory, because he was supposed to say it, but he didn’t mean it.
Merope and her Muggle-watching, that was just nasty. Ought to turn him into a snake for good; it’d fix his brain and make him more useful. “You be good to Morfin,” muttered the younger man to the creature in his lap, rocking against it, rocking back against Marvolo, squeezing as he was squeezed.
“Good…wizarding hands,” murmured Marvolo, raking his son’s bare belly with the heavy ring, “Know….how to use ‘em….good.”
Morfin knew there’d be trouble if he got that ring all sticky again. Marvolo made him wear the locket once, chain around his neck too tight - coiling, like a boa, strangling….
Strangled was the sound he made as he came all over the snake. Halfheartedly he brushed it off the warm scales, squeezing pleasure out of Marvolo too.
“Good boy,” the father finally grunted, begrudgingly. “Yeah, stay away from Merope. Don’t get it on you. Blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, goddammit. Seed, too.”
“Heheheheh, seed,” giggled Morfin. A thin crust was drying on the snake, who wasn’t getting much satisfaction out of this business itself but at least had avoided the nails another day. That Riddle might not be so lucky.
And it's...Gauntcest, with bestiality.
Well, I'll blame it on sazzlette, who requested Marvolo/Morfin/snake. Because that's exactly what it is (with implications of Merope/Tom and Morfin/Merope).
Title: Charmed
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: NC-17 for sheer grossness.
Author's Notes: They're speaking Parseltongue, of course. I did not try to render that phonetically.
Charmed
“She’s watching. I told you. Come and see.” It was a nasty, high-pitched giggle he gave as he spied on his sister, beckoning his father.
Marvolo crept up beside his son, growling, brow furrowed. “He’s fucking filthy. Fucking filthy Muggle.”
“I should show that little bitch,” laughed Morfin, thick garden snake twining through his hands. There were three dead ones nailed to the door now. “She’s so hot for some fucking nasty Muggle prick, I should show her a real one.” The snake looked up at him in shock. He squeezed its neck warningly.
“Wouldn’t be the first time, would it?” Marvolo sneered indifferently. “But better your brat on her than his.”
“Gaunts’ve done it before, ain’t we?” Morfin giggled. “All pure. All clean. All us.” Completely unselfconsciously he forced the snake up his thigh, just thinking about it. The snake shuddered, but that just felt good to the squirming wizard. The constrictor had been the best until it got too grabby and he’d had to break it. Pity.
“Could be worse,” Marvolo agreed, pressing up against Morfin’s hunched back, long arms reaching around. “You’re so right about that Squib slut. If you want to fuck her, go ahead. I wouldn’t touch it. Could barely stand your mother, rot her soul.”
Morfin sniggered. “Nah, I don’t like witches so much. Wet and squishy. Slimy. More like a slug than a snake,” and as the unfortunate obligated reptile rubbed against his member, coiled tight about his hips; he slithered his hand around to charm his father’s serpent, which also responded so well in Parseltongue. Tasted good. Salty and creamy. He was a Parselmouth, that’s what they called it. Nice parcel in his mouth. All coiled up in the belly, waiting to strike.
Marvolo grunted. “Shouldn’t do that, boy.” It was perfunctory, because he was supposed to say it, but he didn’t mean it.
Merope and her Muggle-watching, that was just nasty. Ought to turn him into a snake for good; it’d fix his brain and make him more useful. “You be good to Morfin,” muttered the younger man to the creature in his lap, rocking against it, rocking back against Marvolo, squeezing as he was squeezed.
“Good…wizarding hands,” murmured Marvolo, raking his son’s bare belly with the heavy ring, “Know….how to use ‘em….good.”
Morfin knew there’d be trouble if he got that ring all sticky again. Marvolo made him wear the locket once, chain around his neck too tight - coiling, like a boa, strangling….
Strangled was the sound he made as he came all over the snake. Halfheartedly he brushed it off the warm scales, squeezing pleasure out of Marvolo too.
“Good boy,” the father finally grunted, begrudgingly. “Yeah, stay away from Merope. Don’t get it on you. Blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, goddammit. Seed, too.”
“Heheheheh, seed,” giggled Morfin. A thin crust was drying on the snake, who wasn’t getting much satisfaction out of this business itself but at least had avoided the nails another day. That Riddle might not be so lucky.