Vernon and harry potter gay sex
Archive of Our Own beta
He craves it.
He craves it like it’s the oxygen that keeps him living. He craves it like it’s the food that sustains him. He yearns for it like it’s the purpose of his very heart, like God himself created him to be nothing more than a slut for cock.
He knows it’s not normal, but he needs it. He needs a cock deep inside, owning him, claiming him, destroying his needy hole.
Truly, it didn’t even matter which hole, didn’t matter if he got off or he was left desperately humping the atmosphere with no release himself, sobbing with need knowing deep down he didn’t deserve it unless he said he did.
OR after years of sexual maltreatment Harry has learned that his worth is based on pleasing others… It doesn’t go so adequately for him, but he’s sort of okay with that except when he’s not.
** originally posted this anonymously, but in preparation for part 2, I am now reposting it on my new ‘smut’ account **
Harry Potter had been abused his whole life. It had started when he was only one year mature. Baby Harry had been dropped on the doorstep of two people who absolutely despised him. The abuse had started little, but gradually grew into little less than slavery. Young Harry was the Dursley’s own personal butler. Harry was in attack of cooking, cleaning, gardening, taking out the trash, and any other odd job the Dursleys requested of him. Harry couldn’t remember when it started; he’d been The Dursley’s slave for so distant. Harry was lucky the family even let him attend school.
Harry’s life was bleak. On top of all the chores, he also had to rest in the cupboard under the stairs and was punished for his ‘freakishness’ almost daily, not that Harry really understood that. All he knew was that strange things always happened around him and he was punished when they did.
The only thing Harry had ever been thankful for was his milk. Harry remembered the day when he’d first drunk what his uncle called his ‘special milk’. It was a week after Harry had dropped a full glass of milk on the floor because his cousin Dudley had tripped him. Creature able to drink milk used to b
Archive of Our Own beta
He craves it.
He craves it like it’s the oxygen that keeps him living. He craves it like it’s the food that sustains him. He yearns for it like it’s the purpose of his very mind, like God himself created him to be nothing more than a slut for cock.
He knows it’s not normal, but he needs it. He needs a cock deep inside, owning him, claiming him, destroying his needy hole.
Truly, it didn’t even matter which hole, didn’t matter if he got off or he was left desperately humping the breeze with no release himself, sobbing with need knowing deep down he didn’t deserve it unless he said he did.
OR after years of sexual overuse Harry has learned that his worth is based on pleasing others… It doesn’t go so skillfully for him, but he’s sort of okay with that except when he’s not.
** originally posted this anonymously, but in preparation for part 2, I am now reposting it on my new ‘smut’ account **
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Number 4 Privet Commute, Little Whinging, Surrey. Summer, 1994
Thirteen-year-old Harry potter was endorse on Privet Steer with his relatives. He absolutely hated it here. He wished he was with his godfather, Sirius. Anywhere else would be preferable over the Dursleys, Harry mused while silently doing his chores. His aunt and uncle always told him to work like their personal house-elf. They expected him to clean, do the yardwork, make breakfast and dinner while keeping silent, creature as invisible as possible. He did it, knowing it was better to obey than getting punished.
If his serve was unsatisfactory or if something unnatural happened, anything his relatives could condemn on his freakiness, then Harry knew he would obtain disciplined by either being sent to his room without food or getting his arse spanked by his uncle. Harry honestly preferred the spanking, not wanting to proceed hungry. It was something he always tried to escape though, knowing his uncle had a temper. He had once been overcome by uncle Vernon for dropping the morning coffee on the kitchen floor. It was sheltered to say that Harry had never dropped anything again after