Day 8: Rough/Jealous Sex

Day 8: Rough/Jealous Sex

The tension between them had been simmering all day. It started at the Ministry event—just a passing comment, a light laugh shared between Hermione and Ron that Minerva had been watching from a distance. The way Ron leaned in a little too close, his smile a little too eager as Hermione responded, unaware of how it might look to anyone else. To Minerva, though, it was clear.

Ron still had feelings for her.

And while Hermione had brushed off his advances with her usual grace, the lingering tension between them had set something off in Minerva. By the time they returned to Hogwarts, that quiet jealousy had festered into something darker, something Minerva couldn't shake. It was irrational, she knew, but she couldn't help the way her chest tightened every time she thought about Ron trying to reclaim what wasn't his anymore.

Now, back in the privacy of Minerva's chambers, the air between them was thick with unspoken tension. Hermione stood by the fireplace, her arms crossed over her chest, her brow furrowed in confusion as she glanced at Minerva. She could sense that something was off, but she couldn't quite place it.

"Minerva?" she asked quietly, her voice soft, cautious. "What's wrong?"

Minerva's jaw tightened, her hands clenched into fists at her sides as she stepped closer, her eyes dark with barely concealed frustration. "You were awfully friendly with Ron tonight," she said, her voice low, clipped.

Hermione blinked, taken aback by the sudden accusation. "What?" she asked, her brow furrowing even further. "Minerva, I wasn't—"

"Don't lie to me," Minerva snapped, her voice sharp as she closed the distance between them, her gaze intense. "I saw the way he looked at you, the way he hovered over you all evening."

Hermione's mouth opened in shock, her heart racing as she took a small step back, trying to process Minerva's sudden anger. "I wasn't flirting with him," she said firmly, her voice trembling slightly with a mixture of confusion and hurt. "You know that."

Minerva's eyes narrowed, her frustration boiling over as she grabbed Hermione's wrist, pulling her closer with more force than she intended. "Do I?" she hissed, her breath hot against Hermione's ear. "Because from where I stood, it looked like you were enjoying his attention."

Hermione gasped softly, her eyes widening in shock as Minerva's grip tightened on her wrist. "Minerva, stop," she whispered, her voice trembling as she tried to pull away. "You're being irrational."

Minerva's grip loosened for a fraction of a second before she pulled Hermione closer, her other hand gripping the back of her neck, holding her in place. "I don't like sharing you," she growled, her voice rough, possessive. "Especially not with him."

Hermione's breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest as she looked up at Minerva, her eyes wide with both shock and something darker—something that stirred in her despite the roughness of Minerva's actions. "You don't have to share me," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I'm yours, Minerva. I've always been yours."

But Minerva wasn't listening. Her jealousy, her frustration, had taken hold, clouding her judgment as she pressed Hermione back against the wall, her body pinning her in place. "Then why were you letting him look at you like that?" she demanded, her voice filled with a mixture of anger and need.

"I wasn't—" Hermione started to protest, but the words were cut off as Minerva's lips crashed against hers, hard, desperate, filled with a possessiveness that took Hermione's breath away.

The kiss was rough, almost punishing, Minerva's mouth claiming hers with a ferocity that left no room for doubt. Hermione barely had time to react before Minerva's hands gripped her waist, pulling her closer, pressing their bodies together with a force that made Hermione's knees buckle. She felt the raw emotion pouring from Minerva—the jealousy, the frustration, the burning need to mark Hermione as hers.

Minerva's teeth grazed Hermione's lower lip, the sharp nip sending a jolt of electricity through her. Hermione gasped, her lips parting, and Minerva didn't hesitate. Her tongue plunged into Hermione's mouth, deep and demanding, tasting her with a hunger that left Hermione trembling. There was nothing gentle about the way Minerva kissed her—it was all dominance and control, her tongue sweeping through Hermione's mouth, coaxing and then claiming as if it were her right.

Minerva's hand slid up Hermione's back, tangling in her hair as she tugged, forcing Hermione's head back so she could deepen the kiss even further. Her tongue slid over Hermione's, slow and deliberate, before pulling back to suck gently, then harder, on Hermione's tongue. The sensation made Hermione's body tremble, her hands flying to Minerva's arms, gripping tightly as she tried to ground herself under the intensity of it all.

But Minerva wasn't done. She pulled back just enough to let her teeth scrape against Hermione's swollen lips, the pressure firm and demanding before she bit down again, her tongue flicking out to soothe the sting. Hermione gasped, her chest heaving as Minerva's lips moved to her jaw, trailing rough, open-mouthed kisses along her skin, her teeth grazing and nipping with every kiss.

"You taste so good," Minerva growled softly, her voice rough with barely contained frustration as her hands tightened their hold on Hermione's hips. "But you're mine, Hermione. No one else gets to have you."

Hermione's breath hitched, her heart racing as Minerva's words sent a shiver down her spine. She could feel the possessiveness in every movement, in the way Minerva's hands gripped her waist, her lips biting down again on her neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. Marks that would remind Hermione exactly who she belonged to.

"Minerva, please," Hermione gasped, her voice trembling with a mixture of desperation and need. "I wasn't flirting with him."

Minerva growled softly, her teeth sinking into Hermione's neck, just enough to make her cry out, before pulling back, her eyes dark and filled with frustration. "You don't see the way he looks at you," Minerva hissed, her breath hot against Hermione's skin as her lips brushed over the spot she had just bitten. "But I do. And I won't let him take what's mine."

Hermione's head spun, her body trembling as Minerva's lips found hers again, this time slower but no less intense. Minerva's tongue slid back into Hermione's mouth, coaxing and then sucking on her tongue with a possessiveness that made Hermione's knees weak. The sensation of Minerva's lips, her teeth, her tongue—biting, sucking, claiming—it all left Hermione gasping, her hands gripping Minerva's arms as she tried to keep herself steady.

"Minerva," Hermione whispered, her voice barely audible between the demanding kisses. "Please, I—"

Minerva didn't let her finish. She pulled back just enough to look Hermione in the eye, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts as her hand slid up to cup Hermione's jaw. "You're mine," she growled, her voice low, filled with possessive hunger. "Do you understand me?"

Hermione nodded, her breath shaky as she looked up at Minerva, her heart pounding in her chest. "Yes," she whispered, her voice trembling with both fear and desire. "I'm yours."

Minerva didn't wait. In a swift, forceful motion, she spun Hermione around, her hands gripping Hermione's waist tightly as she pressed her front against the cold stone wall. The sudden change in position left Hermione gasping, her palms flattening against the rough surface as Minerva moved behind her, the air between them crackling with tension.

There was no hesitation. Minerva's fingers hooked into the waistband of Hermione's trousers, yanking them down roughly in one fluid motion. The fabric pooled at Hermione's ankles, leaving her exposed, vulnerable, and trembling as she leaned into the wall, her breath coming in short, uneven bursts. She could feel Minerva's body pressed against her back, her presence overwhelming, dominating, as her fingers moved with precision.

Without warning, Minerva's hand slipped between Hermione's legs, finding her slick and ready. Hermione moaned, her body jerking involuntarily as Minerva's fingers slid against her folds, teasing just for a second before plunging inside her in one sharp, deliberate thrust. Three fingers filled her instantly, stretching her in a way that made Hermione's breath catch in her throat.

There was no slow build-up, no gentle easing into it. Minerva's fingers drove deep, claiming Hermione in one swift motion, and Hermione's body responded instinctively, her hips arching back against Minerva's hand. The stretch was intense, almost overwhelming, but Hermione didn't care. She moaned, her body trembling with the force of Minerva's touch, her hands gripping the stone wall as she tried to steady herself.

Minerva's breath was hot against the back of Hermione's neck, her other hand pressing firmly between Hermione's shoulder blades, holding her in place as she began to move her fingers inside her. The thrusts were hard, unrelenting, each one driving deeper, filling Hermione with a sense of urgency that mirrored the possessive energy radiating from Minerva.

"Do you feel that?" Minerva growled softly, her voice low, rough with desire as her fingers continued their relentless pace. "Do you feel how perfectly you take me?"

Hermione's moan was barely a sound, more of a gasp as she nodded, her body trembling with the intensity of the sensation. "Yes," she whispered, her voice breathless, her mind spinning as Minerva's fingers filled her again and again, each thrust sending a wave of pleasure through her that left her shaking.

Minerva's hand on Hermione's back tightened, keeping her firmly in place as her hips pressed harder against her. There was something almost desperate in the way she moved, her fingers plunging deep into Hermione with every thrust, each one pushing her closer to the edge. Hermione's breath came in short, ragged bursts, her body arching into the rough touch, her mind lost to the overwhelming need to be claimed, to be owned by Minerva.

"You're mine, Hermione," Minerva growled again, her voice filled with a fierce, possessive edge as her fingers curled inside Hermione, hitting a spot that made her cry out. "No one else gets to touch you like this."

Hermione's legs trembled, her body shaking with the intensity of Minerva's words and the way her fingers worked her relentlessly. She could feel the pressure building inside her, the tight coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter as Minerva's thrusts grew harder, faster, each one driving her closer to the brink.

"Minerva," Hermione gasped, her voice trembling as her body arched back against the older witch's touch. "I'm going to—"

"Do it," Minerva commanded, her breath hot against Hermione's ear as she thrust her fingers deeper, her other hand sliding around to grip Hermione's hip, holding her in place. "Come for me. Show me who you belong to."

The words sent a jolt of electricity through Hermione's body, and with one final thrust, she shattered. Her orgasm ripped through her, her body convulsing as she cried out, her hands clawing at the stone wall for support as Minerva's fingers continued to move inside her, pushing her through the waves of pleasure that left her breathless and trembling.

Even as Hermione's body convulsed in the throes of release, Minerva's fingers kept moving, unrelenting, filling her over and over again with deep, steady thrusts. The pleasure, already overwhelming, began to build again, too much, too fast, and Hermione gasped, her legs trembling as the overstimulation set in.

"Minerva, I—" Hermione tried to speak, but the words were lost in a gasp as another wave of pleasure hit her, her body still sensitive, still recovering from the first orgasm. Minerva's fingers curled inside her, finding that spot again with devastating accuracy, and Hermione's breath hitched, her body jerking against the stone wall as her knees buckled.

"No one else can make you feel like this," Minerva growled softly, her breath hot against Hermione's ear as her fingers moved faster, harder, forcing Hermione's body to respond again, despite the overstimulation. "Only me."

Hermione whimpered, her mind clouded with the intensity of it all. Her body was trembling uncontrollably, her legs shaking as Minerva's fingers worked her with relentless precision, driving her toward another climax. The overstimulation made everything sharper, more intense, and Hermione's breath came in short, ragged gasps as she tried to hold herself together.

But Minerva wouldn't let her.

"Come for me again," Minerva commanded, her voice low and filled with dark satisfaction as her fingers thrust deeper, her other hand sliding around to cup Hermione's breast, squeezing roughly. "You can take it. I know you can."

Hermione's body responded instinctively, despite the overwhelming sensation of Minerva's fingers filling her again and again, the pleasure building in sharp, uncontrollable waves. "Minerva, please—" Hermione gasped, her voice trembling as her body began to spiral out of control.

"You're mine, Hermione," Minerva growled, her fingers never slowing as she pushed Hermione to the brink once more. "No one else can make your body react like this. No one else will ever make you come like I do."

With a final, brutal thrust, Minerva sent Hermione over the edge again. Hermione's body convulsed, her back arching as the second orgasm tore through her, even more intense than the first. Her legs gave out, and she would have collapsed if Minerva's hand hadn't been holding her up, keeping her pinned against the wall as the waves of pleasure coursed through her body, leaving her breathless and shaking.

Hermione's mind was spinning, her breath coming in ragged, uneven bursts as her body trembled with the aftershocks. Her legs were weak, her hands still clawing at the wall for support, but Minerva's fingers never stopped. The overstimulation was almost unbearable now, but Minerva was relentless, driving her higher and higher, making her body respond again even though Hermione thought she couldn't possibly come again.

"You're so sensitive," Minerva whispered against Hermione's neck, her voice dark with satisfaction. "But you can take more. I'm going to make you come again, Hermione. And again. Until your body knows it belongs to me."

Hermione whimpered, her head falling back against Minerva's shoulder as the third orgasm began to build, despite the overstimulation, despite the trembling of her legs. Her body was beyond her control now, lost to the relentless rhythm of Minerva's fingers as they thrust deeper, faster, curling inside her in a way that made Hermione's vision blur.

"Minerva, I can't—" Hermione gasped, her voice barely a whisper as her body shook with the intensity of it all.

"Yes, you can," Minerva growled, her hand gripping Hermione's waist tightly as she thrust harder, pushing Hermione to the brink of another climax. "You can, and you will. Because you're mine."

Hermione's body gave in, her mind shutting down as the third orgasm crashed over her, sending her spiraling into oblivion. She cried out, her body convulsing violently as the pleasure ripped through her, leaving her trembling, breathless, completely undone. Her legs buckled, and this time, even Minerva's strong grip wasn't enough to keep her completely upright.

Minerva finally slowed, her fingers slipping out of Hermione gently as she caught her, lowering them both to the floor. Hermione's body was still shaking, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps as the aftershocks continued to ripple through her, leaving her completely spent. Her muscles were trembling, her mind dazed from the overstimulation, but Minerva was there, steady and present, easing her down with a quiet tenderness that belied the roughness of what had just happened.

Minerva shifted them both, settling onto the cool stone floor as she pulled Hermione into her lap, cradling the younger witch against her chest. Hermione let out a soft, exhausted sigh, her body instinctively curling into Minerva's warmth, her head resting against Minerva's shoulder as she tried to catch her breath.

Minerva's hand moved gently up and down Hermione's back, her touch soothing, calming. She pressed a soft kiss to the top of Hermione's head, her breath warm and steady as she held her close. The tension from earlier had melted away, replaced by a quiet, protective warmth that wrapped around them like a blanket.

"You're alright," Minerva whispered, her voice low, tender as her fingers stroked through Hermione's hair. "You're safe."

Hermione's breath hitched, her body still trembling from the aftershocks, but Minerva's words, her touch, brought her a sense of calm she hadn't realized she needed. She snuggled deeper into Minerva's lap, her head resting against the older woman's chest as her body slowly began to relax.

"I'm sorry," Minerva whispered softly, her voice barely above a murmur as she kissed the top of Hermione's head again. "I didn't mean to be so rough."

Hermione shifted slightly, her body still tired but her mind finally catching up with the moment. She turned her face into Minerva's chest, breathing in the familiar scent of her robes, the scent that always made her feel safe. "I know," Hermione whispered back, her voice hoarse but filled with quiet affection. "I could've stopped you…I could've used our safeword, but I…didn't want that.."

Minerva's arms tightened around her, holding her even closer as they sat there on the floor, the intensity of the moment fading into something softer, more intimate. "I just…" Minerva's voice trailed off, her fingers still moving gently through Hermione's hair. "I hate the thought of anyone else thinking they can have you."

Hermione smiled softly against Minerva's chest, her eyes fluttering closed as she let the exhaustion seep into her bones. "You don't have to worry," she murmured, her voice a quiet promise. "I'm yours, Minerva. No one else."

Minerva let out a soft sigh of relief, her hand continuing its gentle strokes along Hermione's back, each movement slow and deliberate, as though she were reassuring both of them. "I just needed to remind you," she whispered, her lips brushing against Hermione's temple in a gentle kiss. "Remind myself."

Hermione's body relaxed further, her breathing slowing as she leaned into Minerva's touch, her mind quiet and content. "You did," she whispered, her voice filled with warmth, despite the exhaustion that weighed on her. "You always do."