Sorry for the late update, had some financial aid stuff I had to get done. Seriously what a great idea, take the financial aid website and put it through maintenance on the last couple days available to apply for shit.
Anyways, I have a I've started up, I'll be posting a link to it soon. I'm wanting to publish a lot more stories on a regular basis, ranging from fluff to comedy to horror to mystery and everything in between. I'll be doing early access on there along with requests for stories, and possibly other content as well.
The first story I'm going to publish there is a exclusive, one that I started a few years ago but never finished, The Murder of Sally Smith. It will be one part murder mystery, one part lovecraftian horror, one part Harry Potter fanfiction, and I'm hoping every chapter will be around 20K words.
I'm eventually wanting to start making writing a full-time job, so any of support would be loved, but I want to stress it is absolutely not necessary.
The early morning dew glistened on the cobblestone path as students shuffled sleepily towards the Great Hall. Above, the sky stretched in a soft, pale blue, hinting at the promise of a cool day to come. However, the midst of the quiet, a shrill voice pierced the serene atmosphere eager to ruin everything good about the day.
Pansy Parkinson strutted through the corridor with a smug expression, her shoulder length brown hair bouncing as she approached Hermione Granger. She had always enjoyed the sound of her own voice, especially when it was being used to belittle someone else. This morning was no exception.
"Mudblood," she spat, her emerald eyes glinting with malice. "Why don't you just crawl back to your library where you belong? Nobody wants you here, you annoying know it all."
Hermione clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white. Pansy's taunts were like a broken record, playing the same tune every day. The slur rolled off her back like rain on a duck's feathers, but the sheer predictability of it grated on her nerves. She took a deep breath and told herself that engaging with Pansy was a waste of time and energy. She had better things to do than to argue with someone whose intellectual capacity was as vast as a teaspoon.
But today, something was different. A hand closed around Pansy's arm, and she was yanked away from Hermione's personal space. Harry Potter, his emerald eyes flashing with anger, glared at Pansy. "Come with me," he said, his voice low and firm.
Pansy looked up at Harry with a mix of surprise and confusion."What?" she asked, trying to shake his grip off her arm. "What's your problem, Potter?"
"You," Harry said, his jaw set. "You're coming with me."
Pansy's eyes narrowed, and she tried to pull away again. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, but Harry didn't let go. Instead, he began to lead her away from the breakfast crowd, his stride purposeful and swift. Hermione watched them go, a mix of curiosity and gratitude swirling in her chest.
The courtyard was cool and damp, the early morning mist still lingering in the corners. The sound of their footsteps echoed off the ancient stone walls as Harry brought Pansy to a stop in the middle of the open space. His grip on her arm tightened, and she finally looked up at him, her eyes wide with confusion. "What's wrong with you! Why did you have to drag me all the way out here! If you wanted me to follow you you could have just asked, idiot!"
"What's wrong with me? What the hell is wrong with you? As if you would just follow me out here!" Harry spat, his voice laced with anger. "You say the same crap every single day. Can't you come up with anything original... No you can't, because you're a fucking simulation and for some reason you are programmed to be as annoying as possible!"
Pansy's expression shifted from confusion to annoyance. "I don't know what you're on about, Potter," she said, her voice dripping with annoyance. "But if you're going to treat me like this, I'd appreciate it if you let go of my arm."
"The entire world is just a big simulation," Harry said, his eyes not leaving hers. "And I've had enough of it. You, of all people, Pansy, have to be the one to ruin my mornings with your petty bullying? The second I touch my bed in the evening, I get a perfect night's sleep and wake up fully refreshed in the morning. I don't have to worry about homework, because the universe pauses lesson plans until I turn it in. I can regenerate health simply by eating food items, and I can make people like me just by giving them gifts twice a week. My life is pretty damn good, but every single day you have to ruin it by being a pain in the ass!"
Pansy stared at him, her mind racing to keep up with his sudden outburst. It was like he had just spoken in Parseltongue, a mess of gibberish sounds with no real meaning behind any of them. "You're talking nonsense, Potter," she said, her voice a mix of confusion and concern.
"Am I? Every single day for the last five years, I've heard that same line come out of your mouth. It's like a broken record. 'Mudblood, know-it-all, go back to the library'. It's so pathetic, it's like you're trying to impress someone, but let me tell you, Pansy, nobody cares. Not even the house elves are impressed with your wit."
Pansy's cheeks flushed, and she looked down at the ground, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her features. It was almost as if she felt a twinge of guilt, but the emotion was so foreign on her that Harry couldn't be sure. Her voice was softer when she spoke again, almost a mumble. "I'm sorry... I didn't know it bothered you this much."
"You didn't know?" Harry's voice was incredulous. "Or you just didn't care?"
Pansy's gaze remained on the ground, her full pink lips pressed into a tight line. "Look, I didn't mean to..." she began, "to make you feel..." She trailed off, shifting uncomfortably before frowning and looking back up at him. "Not that I care how you feel! I couldn't care less! You're a stupid Gryffindor!" She looked angry, but the venom in her voice was non-existent, and it made Harry pause in curiosity. Thinking back to a few minutes ago he decided to test something.
"Follow me," he said, his voice firm as he turned and began to walk over to the wall of the courtyard. He didn't look back to see if she was following, but he heard the sound of her heels clicking against the cobblestone. He stopped when he reached the cold, rough stones of the castle wall. The early morning light cast a faint shadow over them, creating a stark contrast against the greenery that surrounded them. Without looking at her, Harry spoke again. "Take off your shoes."
Pansy huffed, but she did as she was told, bending down with a dramatic sigh. Her eyes darted around the courtyard, as if expecting someone to pop out and laugh at her humiliation. But the only sounds were the distant caws of an early morning bird and the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. She straightened up, her shoes in hand, and looked at Harry with a raised eyebrow. "What now, your highness?" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Without breaking eye contact, Harry spoke again. "Take off your robe."
Pansy's eyes widened, but she complied, sliding the fabric off her shoulders and letting it pool at her feet. She stood before him in her uniform, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. Harry could see the goosebumps forming on her skin from the chilly morning air. He stepped closer to her, his hand reaching out to trace the outline of her collarbone. "Your shirt," he murmured, his voice a low rumble.
"You're such a pervert, Potter," she said, but her voice was shaky, and she didn't pull away. Instead, she began to unbutton her shirt, her fingers fumbling with the small, white buttons. She was blushing furiously, her cheeks a deep shade of red that matched the ribbon in her hair. Harry watched as her shirt fell open, revealing her white lace bra. Her breasts were small but firm, the fabric of her bra straining slightly against her flesh. Before she could finish, he reached his arm out and grabbed her hand.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and curiosity. "You hate me, don't you?"
Pansy's cheeks grew even redder, but she remained silent, her eyes darting around the courtyard as if searching for an escape. Harry could see the internal struggle playing out on her face, the fear of being caught mixing with something else... something that intrigued him. He stepped closer, his hand moving to the back of her neck, his thumb ghosting over her pulse point.
"Do you like me, Pansy?" he whispered, his breath warm against her ear.
Her eyes widened, and she yanked her hand away from his as if it had been burned. "What? No! Why would I like you!" she exclaimed, her voice high-pitched and defensive. Her cheeks were a brilliant shade of red, and she took a step back, her bare feet making a soft sound on the cold cobblestone.
"Well, if you don't like me, then why are you doing what I say?" Harry asked, his smile growing. He could feel the tension in the air thicken, like a storm cloud about to burst. "Keep taking your shirt off."
Pansy's eyes darted around the deserted courtyard, her cheeks flaming. She swallowed hard, her hand shaking slightly as she reached for her shirt again. Her heart hammered in her chest, the fear of discovery and the thrill of disobedience mixing in a heady cocktail that sent a thrill down her spine. With trembling fingers, she unbuttoned the last few buttons and let the fabric fall to her waist, revealing her bra. The lace was delicate, and her nipples pressed against the fabric, clearly visible through the sheer material.
"Now, play with them," Harry ordered, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver through her. Pansy's eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out. Instead, she found her hand moving to cover her chest almost instinctively, as if to protect herself from his gaze. Her fingers curled around her chest, gently digging into her skin as she pushed upwards with her palms, massaging herself as Harry watched in amusement.
Her cheeks burned as she realized what she was doing, but she couldn't stop. It was as if his words had a power over her, compelling her to act against her will. She felt her nipples harden beneath the fabric, and she knew he could see it. She hated herself for it, but she couldn't deny the thrill that shot through her body. "Stupid Potter, I'm not doing this because you told me to, by the way!"
But her protests fell on deaf ears as Harry stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers. He reached for the tie of her skirt, and she felt the fabric loosen around her waist. She didn't resist as he slid it down over her hips, revealing her matching white lace panties. She felt a strange mix of embarrassment and excitement, and she knew she should be pushing him away, but she didn't. Instead, she stepped out of the skirt, leaving it in a pile at her feet.
"You have an amazing ass, Pansy," Harry murmured, his eyes roving over her curves. She felt a flush of heat spread over her body, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from moaning. She had never heard anyone talk to her like this before, and it was doing things to her that she didn't quite understand.
"Oh, please," she scoffed, trying to sound unimpressed. "You're such a perverted idiot, Potter." But even as she said the words, she found herself spreading her legs, giving him a better view. The fabric of her panties was already damp, and she knew he could see it. She felt a strange thrill at the idea of him looking at her like this.
With a smirk, Harry stepped closer, grabbing her shoulders and turning her around. She gasped as he pushed her towards the wall, one hand flying out to brace herself while one hand remained at her chest. Harry's eyes followed the movement, and he couldn't help but feel a surge of arousal. He had never seen Pansy like this before, and it was intoxicating. "Now take off your bra," he ordered, his voice firm. Pansy's breath hitched, but she did as she was told, her hands trembling as she unclasped the back. The garment fell away, and her breasts bounced slightly before settling against the cool wall. Harry's gaze was rapt, his eyes tracing the curves of her body.
Pansy's heart was racing, her mind reeling. Why was she letting this happen? Why did she feel so... alive? Harry's hand traced the length of her spine, his touch sending shivers down her body. He stepped closer, his warmth pressing into her, and she could feel his arousal. It was a heady feeling, one that she had never experienced before. "You're so fucking skinny, Pansy," he murmured, his hand sliding down to rest on the sides of her lower back. "It's like you don't eat anything but salad. I bet you're extremely tight, aren't you?"
Pansy blushed so hard she thought her cheeks might catch fire. She hated it when people talked about her weight, but coming from Harry, it was somehow different. It was like he was praising her for something she had always been insecure about. "Shut up, Potter," she said, but her voice was breathless, and she didn't sound convincing at all. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, and she shivered.
Without warning, Harry's hand snaked around to the front of her panties and began to tug them down. She gasped and tried to push them back up, but his grip was firm. "What the hell are you doing?" she hissed, but even she could hear the excitement in her voice.
Harry chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. "What does it look like I'm doing?" he said, his voice low and teasing. "I know you like it, just like I know you like me."
Pansy's eyes widened, and she tried to spin around to face him, but Harry's hand kept her in place. "...Don't flatter yourself, Potter," she whispered, but the words held no real conviction. She knew it was true; she had always felt a strange pull towards Harry, a mix of anger and attraction that she had never been able to reconcile. But she would never admit it out loud. He was so loyal to his friends, unlike anything she could find in Slytherin house, where the students would do anything to get ahead, even if it meant selling out their own roommates. She craved it, the companionship, the love, the feeling of his arms around her as he saved her from danger... Why was it that he had to be friends with the mudblood and the blood traitor Weasley family? It wasn't fair!
The sound of Harry's laughter washed over her, sending a warm tingle down her spine. It was a rare sound, and it was even more surprising to hear it directed at her. "You're so full of it, Pansy," he said, his voice a low chuckle. He stepped closer, pressing his body against hers, and she could feel his erection through his robes. She gasped, and he took the opportunity to kiss her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through her, and she arched her back, pushing her ass against him.
He gave a loud chuckle, before planting a kiss on the top of her head. "You're so full of it, Pansy. Now be a good girl, keep playing with those nipples."
Her eyes snapped shut, her body responding to his words despite her mind's protest. Harry's hand was already in her panty waistband, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of her stomach. She could feel the fabric of her panties being tugged down, the cool air of the courtyard kissing her exposed skin. With a final yank, they were around her ankles, and she stepped out of them, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and exhilaration. Harry's hand trailed down her spine, sending goosebumps in its wake, until it reached her buttocks. He gave a firm squeeze, and she bit her bottom lip to keep from moaning.
Then, to her astonishment, he spread her cheeks apart. The sudden exposure made her gasp, and she felt his finger trace the tight ring of her anus. Pansy's mind reeled at the sensation; she had never been touched there before, not even by herself. It was a strange, almost foreign feeling, and she couldn't decide if it was pleasure or embarrassment. His finger hovered for a moment, and she could feel his warm breath against her. "Look at this," he murmured, his voice a dark whisper. "It's so tight and perfect."
Pansy felt a strange mix of fear and excitement as Harry leaned closer, his eyes locked on the intimate part of her that she had never even allowed herself to examine in the mirror. She could feel his gaze on her, and she knew what he was looking at. Her butthole was small and pink, almost hidden between her cheeks, but she could feel it pulsing with the anticipation of what was to come. It was a taboo part of her, something that she had never even thought to be sexy, but the way Harry was looking at it made her feel like the most desirable person in the world.
"It's so sexy," Harry murmured, his voice thick with lust. Pansy's eyes snapped open, and she stared at the wall in front of her, her cheeks burning. She had never heard anyone say something like that about her before, especially not Harry Potter. She felt his finger trace the outside of her anus, the gentle pressure making her gasp. "You're so tight, Pansy," he said, his voice a low growl. "It's going to be amazing when I fill you up."
Her breath hitched, and she felt a strange, desperate need to push back against his hand, to feel him inside her. But she remained still, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "You're just saying that," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "Idiot, that's gross! Nobody thinks that's hot, you're just weird!"
But Harry didn't seem to hear her protests. He was too busy exploring her body, his touch sending waves of pleasure through her that she had never experienced before. His finger slid back and forth over her anus, the pressure increasing slightly with each pass. Pansy felt a strange, building tension in her belly, and she couldn't help but push back against him, her body betraying her.
"You're not so tough now, are you?" Harry said, his voice teasing. "You're just a little slut, aren't you? You're just a little slut with a crush on Harry Potter."
Pansy's breath hitched as his words hit home, and she felt a rush of wetness between her legs. "I do not have a crush on you!" she spat, trying to sound indignant, but her voice was weak.
"Oh, Pansy," Harry said, his voice filled with amusement. "You're lying to yourself. You know you want this." He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear. "Tell me, have you ever been taken here?"
Pansy's cheeks burned with embarrassment. "That's not proper for a pureblood!" she exclaimed, trying to keep her voice steady despite the tremble in her legs. She had heard the whispers about anal sex, the dark and forbidden topic, uncouth for the upper crust of society, a practice that was reserved for the disgraceful lower echelons and peasants, that was never discussed in polite company. It was something she had never considered, let alone wanted. But now, with Harry's finger teasing her, she found herself wondering if there was something to it.
"Why not?" Harry's voice was low, his breath hot against her ear. "It's just another way to feel good, Pansy. And you know you're curious." His finger circled her anus, and she felt herself clench around it. "Has Malfoy ever touched you like this?"
Pansy's face flushed even deeper, and she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. "What the hell do you mean by that?" she snapped, her voice a mix of embarrassment and anger. "We were never a couple, okay?"
"But you always follow his lead, don't you?" Harry said, his voice a low murmur as his finger continued to play with her entrance. "You're always there, backing him up, doing his dirty work. Why is that?"
Pansy took a deep, shaky breath. "It's... it's what my father told me to do," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "He said that if I wanted to be respected in Slytherin, I had to be close to him."
"But what do you want?" Harry's voice was softer now, the teasing gone from his tone. His finger stopped moving, and she felt a strange sense of loss.
Pansy swallowed hard, her body still pressed against the cold wall. "I don't know," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I've never... I mean, it's just not..." She couldn't find the words. Harry's touch was foreign and exhilarating, and she didn't know how to articulate the maelstrom of feelings swirling inside her. She wanted him to continue. She wanted him to do more. But she would never say it. "Why are you asking questions like that!" She cried out indignantly.
Harry pushed his finger into her ass, just a little bit. Pansy's eyes went wide, and she gasped. It was strange, a bit painful, but she couldn't deny the thrill it sent through her body. She had felt dirty at the excitement, it was like he had found a button that she didn't know existed, one that sent pleasure shooting through her like a bolt of lightning. She tried to push away from the wall, but Harry's other hand was there, holding her firmly in place. "Because, Pansy," he murmured, his voice a dark whisper in her ear, "I want to hear you say you want me. Is it so hard to admit you like me? Do you always have to act so tough?"
Her body tensed as he pushed his finger in deeper, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. It was as if he was unlocking a part of her that she had kept hidden, a part that craved the very attention she had always pretended to despise. "I don't like you, Potter," she whispered, her voice shaky. "I hate you."
But her protests fell on deaf ears as Harry began to spank her, his hand coming down on her ass with a firm smack. The sound echoed through the empty courtyard, and she couldn't help but gasp. It stung, but the way it made her heart skip a beat was more than worth it. "You're a liar, Pansy," he murmured, his voice low and intimate. "You love the attention. You love it when I touch you." He slid his finger out of her ass, and she felt a strange sense of loss, her body craving more of his touch. He reached around with his free arm, pulling her into a hug that was both gentle and possessive. His warmth enveloped her, and she felt his other hand move to cup her cheek, turning her face towards his. His thumb brushed against her cheekbone, and she couldn't help but lean into the touch. He kissed the back of her head, and she felt a shiver of pleasure run through her. It was a strange, intimate moment, one that she had never shared with anyone before.
Then, with a suddenness that took her breath away, Harry's hand moved down to her chest, cupping her breast firmly. She gasped as his thumb found her nipple, rolling it gently between his fingers. The sensation was overwhelming, and she couldn't help but reach down to her own pussy, her hand sliding over her clit. She had never been this turned on before, and she didn't know what to do with the emotions coursing through her body. Her knees felt weak, and she leaned back into him, her head falling to his shoulder.
He took the opportunity to kiss her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. She moaned, the sound low and needy, and she felt his cock harden against her back. His hand moved to her stomach, his fingers sliding over her skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He was so much more gentle than she had ever imagined he would be, his touch almost tender. It was a stark contrast to the Harry she knew, the one who fought and yelled and was always so sure of himself. This Harry was... different.
With a swift movement, Harry's hand moved to the button of his own pants, deftly undoing it and sliding down the zipper. She could feel his boxers tenting against her, and she knew he was just as affected by this as she was. Her heart was racing, and she found herself pushing back against him, her body begging for more. She had never wanted anyone like this before, and she didn't know how to handle it.
He kissed the side of her neck, his teeth grazing her sensitive skin. Pansy moaned, arching her back to give him better access. His hand slid into his pants, and she felt his cock spring free, hot and hard against her ass. She had never been so close to a boy before, had never felt the warmth of a man's body against hers. It was thrilling and terrifying all at once.
With a gentle push, Harry got to his knees behind her, his eyes never leaving hers. Pansy's breath hitched as she watched him, his eyes dark with desire. She felt his breath on her skin as he kissed his way down her spine, his lips tracing the path his hand had taken moments before. She trembled as his mouth reached the top of her buttocks, his tongue sliding over the curve of her body. She had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, and she didn't know how to react.
But as Harry's mouth moved closer to her pussy, she couldn't help but push back against him, her hand moving between her legs. She was wet, so wet, and she needed release. She began to rub herself again, her fingers moving in tight circles over her clit. Harry chuckled, the sound vibrating against her skin. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "You're so eager."
Without warning, his tongue darted out, licking a path down her spine until he reached her asshole. Pansy's eyes widened, and she stiffened, unsure of what to expect. But instead of pulling away, she found herself leaning back, her body begging for his touch. Harry's tongue circled her tight entrance, and she gasped. It was a strange sensation, one she had never felt before, but it was... good. He kissed her asshole, his lips pressing firmly against her, and she felt a rush of wetness flood her pussy.
The reality was so much better than the images he had seen in the magazines he had found in Sheamus's trunk. Harry had read about it, of course, but he had never thought it would be so... intense. He had always been curious about the taboo, the forbidden, and now he had the chance to explore it with Pansy.
Her legs trembled as Harry's tongue slid into her ass, stretching her tight muscles with every movement. It was like nothing she had ever felt before, and she couldn't believe she was letting this happen. But she was too far gone to stop now. Her hand moved faster between her legs, her fingers sliding in and out of her wet pussy, hitting her g-spot with every stroke. The sensation was overwhelming, and she could feel her orgasm building, ready to crash over her like a wave.
"Oh, Harry," she moaned, her voice a mix of embarrassment and pleasure. She had never been so openly sexual a day in her life, and was slowly finding that she loved the feeling.
Pansy's eyes squeezed shut as Harry's tongue worked its magic on her tight hole. Each flick and push sent bolts of pleasure through her body, making her legs quiver. She didn't dare look at him, afraid that the sight of his face buried in her ass would be too much. Her cheeks were already burning with humiliation, but the sensations were too intense to ignore. She could feel her orgasm building, a tight coil in her belly that was threatening to violently explode. Her hand moved faster, her own moans joining the symphony of sounds that filled the courtyard.
Suddenly, Harry's hand was there, reaching around to cup her mound. His fingers slid over her clit, mimicking the movements of her own hand. The added pressure was too much, and she let out a cry, her body bucking against his. "Oh, fuck," she moaned, the words slipping out despite her best efforts to remain stoic. Harry's other hand reached up to grab her breast, his thumb rubbing over her hardened nipple. The dual sensations were overwhelming, and she could feel her body giving in to the pleasure.
Her orgasm hit her like a ton of bricks, making her body spasm and quiver. She felt Harry's tongue in her ass, his hand on her clit, and she couldn't help but clench down around his face. She could feel her ass tighten around his tongue, her muscles pulsing with the intensity of her climax. She could hear him groan, his grip on her hips tightening, and she knew he was enjoying it just as much as she was. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever felt before, and she didn't want it to end.
As her orgasm began to subside, Harry slid his finger out of her pussy and brought it to her ass, coating it in her juices. He didn't give her any warning, just pushed it into the loosened eager hole while Pansy gasped, her body tensing as she felt the intrusion, but the pleasure quickly took over. It was a strange, full feeling, one that she found she liked. Harry's finger moved in and out of her, his tongue still going around the outside of her ring. She had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, but it was also incredibly freeing.
With a smirk, Harry added a second finger, stretching her even further. Pansy's eyes went wide, and she bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out. The feeling was intense, a mix of pain and pleasure that rocked through her hard. Harry's eyes gleamed with excitement as he watched her reaction, his own arousal clear in the way his cock throbbed against her thigh. He began to pump his fingers in and out of her, his tongue moving in sync. She felt her body start to shake again, her hand moving faster as she chased the feeling of another orgasm.
And then, she did something she had never done before. With a fierce determination, Pansy reached up and squeezed her own nipples hard, her fingernails digging into her sensitive flesh. The pain was sharp and immediate, and she gasped as she felt a second wave of pleasure crest over her. She could feel her blood rushing to the surface, the sensation so intense that she almost couldn't believe it. But it was that pain that pushed her over the edge, her body convulsing as she came again, harder than she ever had before.
Her legs gave out, and she would have fallen if Harry's arms hadn't been around her, holding her up. He chuckled, his breath warm against her neck as he helped her stay upright. "You're so beautiful when you cum," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. "So tight and responsive, so small." Keeping his fingers still stretching her out, he stood up, positioning his dick downward between her cheeks, so it rubbed through to the bottom of her pussy.
Pansy felt a blush spread across her face, embarrassed at his compliment, but she couldn't deny the way her body was reacting to his words. She tried to push the thoughts away, to remember that she hated Harry Potter, that this was wrong. But the feel of his hardness against her was too much, and she found herself pushing back, silently begging for more.
"P-potter," she stuttered, trying to sound indignant, but her voice was thick with arousal. "You can't just... Say things like that!"
But Harry just chuckled, his grip on her hips firm. "Why not?" he murmured, his voice a dark caress in her ear. "It's true, isn't it? You liked that."
Pansy's face burned, and she struggled to form a coherent thought. "It was... disgusting," she managed to say, but even to her own ears, it sounded forced. Her body was still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm, and she could feel the wetness of her own arousal slick against the large swollen tip of Harry's cock.
"Disgusting?" Harry's voice was a low, amused rumble. "Then why is your body begging for more?" He rocked his hips slightly, the tip of his cock pressing against her slickened asshole. Pansy's eyes rolled back in her head, and she couldn't help but push back, silently begging for him to fill her. With a wicked smile, Harry positioned himself at her entrance, his cock poised to claim her in the most intimate way possible. He had never felt so in control, so powerful. Pansy's breathing was ragged, her body trembling with anticipation. He knew she wanted this, needed this, just as much as he did. "Ready, Pansy?" he asked, his voice low and full of promise. "You've been a pain in my ass for so long, it's time I do the same to you."
With a firm push, Harry entered her, the tightness of her ass gripping him like a vise. Pansy let out a muffled cry, her hands slapping against the cold stone wall for support. The pain was intense, but she could feel the excitement building within her. It was a sensation she had never experienced before, one that made her feel alive. Harry's cock was so much larger than she had ever imagined, stretching her in ways she never thought possible. It was the ultimate sexual pure blood taboo, and here she was, being buggered like a dirty peasant whore.
Her thoughts were a jumble of confusion and desire as Harry began to thrust into her, his hips moving in a steady rhythm. She could feel every inch of him, every ridge and vein, as he claimed her most private place. The pain began to give way to something else, something deeper and more primal. It was as if he was claiming a part of her that she had never even known existed. Pansy's body tensed around him, her muscles clenching and releasing, trying to adjust to the intrusion.
With every stroke, Harry pushed deeper, until she felt like she was being split in two. But she didn't want him to stop. In fact, she wanted more. Her hand slid down to her clit, her own touch feather-light against the sensitive nub. Harry's hand covered hers, guiding her movements, showing her how to pleasure herself in time with his thrusts. She moaned, the sound low and needy, as she felt the beginnings of another orgasm building.
As Harry's cock slid deeper, she could feel him hit something, a spot inside her that made her legs tremble. "Oh, fuck," she whispered, her voice shaking. "What was that?"
"Feels like I've hit the back of your ass. I wonder if I can get farther in?"
The words sent a thrill through Pansy, and she pushed back against him, her body hungry for the new sensations. Harry chuckled, his grip on her hips tightening as he began to explore deeper, his cock moving in slow, deliberate circles inside her. She had never felt anything like it before, and she couldn't believe she was letting him do this to her. But she was too lost in the moment to care about propriety or what anyone would think. All that mattered was the way he made her feel.
He thrust in farther, feeling the tight squeezing sensation forming itself to his dick as he buggered her, willing his cock to go in farther. He had begun to feel the inside of her walls hit the side of his tip, and the rigid form of his cock started to bend slightly to the side as he reached deeper.
"Potter!" Pansy's voice was a mix of pain and pleasure, a scream that echoed through the courtyard as Harry's cock hit the bend of her colon. She had never felt anything so intrusive, so deep, so... utterly consuming. It was as if he was claiming every inch of her, leaving no part of her untouched by his maleness.
"Yes, Pansy, take it," Harry grunted, his own pleasure palpable as he felt her tightness clench around him. He began to move faster, his hips slapping against her ass with every thrust. She could feel her own cheeks sting from the impact, but she didn't care. All she cared about was the feeling of Harry's cock moving inside her, filling her up in a way she never knew she needed.
"Potter, oh, oh," she screamed, her voice high and desperate. "It's too much!" But even as she protested, she pushed back against him, her body begging for more. Harry's grip on her hips tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh as he picked up the pace. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through her, making her scream louder.
Pansy could feel the pressure building again, her body desperate for release. "Pull my hair," she panted, her voice a desperate whine. "Choke me, Harry. Make me feel... make me feel like I'm nothing."
Her words took him by surprise, but Harry was not one to deny a desperate plea. He wrapped his hand in her hair and pulled, forcing her head back as he slammed into her even harder. "You're nothing but a dirty little slut," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "A filthy whore who loves to have her ass used."
The pain in her scalp was exquisite, mixing with the delicious fullness of Harry's cock in her ass. Pansy's eyes rolled back in her head, and she couldn't help but moan in pleasure. The way he talked to her, the way he was using her, it was like nothing she had ever experienced before. It was wrong, so wrong, but she loved it. Her hand moved faster over her clit, her body desperate for the release that was building within her.
And then, without warning, Harry's hand came up to her face, and she felt the warm wetness of his spit hit her cheek. She gasped, her eyes flying open in shock. He had never been so crude before, so... degrading. But instead of pushing him away, she found herself leaning into it, her body craving the humiliation he was dishing out. He chuckled, his eyes dark with lust as he watched her reaction. "You like that, don't you?" he murmured, his voice low and taunting. "You love being treated like a dirty little whore."
Without waiting for a response, Harry's hand moved to her breast, his fingernails digging into the soft flesh. He traced the path of his earlier bruise, his touch sending a shiver of pleasure through her body. He watched as she bit her lip, her eyes never leaving his. "You want more?" he asked, his voice a whisper.
Pansy nodded, unable to find the words to voice her desires. Harry smirked, his grip on her hair tightening. He gave her another spank, this one harder than the last. The sound echoed through the courtyard, and she couldn't help but moan. The sting was sharp, but it only served to heighten her arousal. She felt his hand move between her legs again, his fingers sliding into her wetness. He began to fuck her with his hand, his thumb pressing firmly against her clit as he did so. The sensation was incredible, and she found herself pushing back against him, her body begging for more.
And then, he did it again. Harry spit in her face, the saliva landing on her cheek and sliding down to her mouth. Pansy's eyes widened in shock, but instead of recoiling, she found herself leaning into it, her tongue darting out to catch the salty liquid. The act was so degrading, so beneath her, but she couldn't deny the way it made her feel. Harry's grip on her hair tightened, and he slammed into her, his cock reaching deeper than ever before. She could feel his hot breath on her neck, his body pressing against her back as he took her, claimed her.
With each powerful thrust, Pansy felt herself being lifted off the ground, her feet barely touching the cold stone beneath her. Harry's hips were a blur of motion, his cock driving into her with a force that was both terrifying and exhilarating. She was nothing but a ragdoll in his arms, completely at his mercy as he used her body for his own pleasure. Her cries of pain echoed through the deserted courtyard as she reached another orgasm through the sheer embarrassment of being treated like a sentient fuck hole for his pleasure.
And then, with a final, brutal thrust, Harry hit that spot deep inside her, and she exploded. Pansy's body went rigid, her orgasm so intense that she could feel it in every part of her being. She squirted, her juices spraying onto the cold stone wall in front of her, the sound of it mixing with her screams of pleasure. Harry's grip tightened, his own orgasm close, his cock pulsing inside her as he continued to fuck her through her climax.
Her body was on fire, her nerves alight with sensation. She could feel Harry's hand squeezing her nipple, his other hand gripping her hair keeping her in place as he pounded into her. The feeling of his cock stretching her ass was unbearable, and yet she found herself craving more, pushing back into him with every stroke. Her thoughts were a jumble of lust and humiliation, and she didn't know which she enjoyed more.
With a snarl, Harry pulled her up off the ground, her legs hanging loose beneath her as he pinned her to the wall with his body. His arms were wrapped around her in a full nelson, his cock buried deep inside her. The sensation of being completely at his mercy was intoxicating, and she moaned as he began to fuck her even harder. His hips slammed into her, the impact sending jolts of pleasure through her body. She could feel his muscles tensing, his breath coming in ragged gasps against her neck.
Pansy's eyes rolled back in her head, her mouth open in a silent scream as Harry's cock pounded into her. He was relentless, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, his balls slapping against her pussy with every thrust. The sound of their skin slapping together was the only sound in the courtyard, as she could feel her orgasm building again, her body tightening around him as she neared the edge. She couldn't remember how many she had experienced, she couldn't remember what she was going to have for breakfast, she couldn't remember what classes she had today. The only thing on her mind was the sheer ecstasy of being used.
But Harry wasn't ready to let her go over just yet. "Say it," he growled, his teeth gritted with the effort of holding back his own climax. "Say you like me, Pansy."
"No," she whimpered, her voice weak and trembling. "I... I... I don't."
"Liar," Harry said, his voice a dark whisper in her ear. He bit down on her earlobe, the sting of pain mixing with the pleasure of his cock inside her. "You're going to cum for me, and you're going to admit it."
Pansy's body was trembling, her muscles straining as she tried to hold off. But Harry was too much, his cock too big, his touch too skilled. She could feel herself getting closer, her pussy clenching around her fingers as he fucked her ass. "I... I can't," she gasped. "It's too much."
"You can," Harry said, his voice firm. "You're going to cum, and you're going to admit it. Admit it or I'll stop right here and you won't get to cum"
The words were like a challenge, a dare that Pansy's body couldn't resist. She felt her walls tightening around him, her body begging for release. "I... I..." she stuttered, her voice strained with effort.
"Say it," Harry demanded, his thrusts growing more intense. "Say you like me."
Pansy's breath hitched, her body writhing against him as the pleasure grew too intense to bear. "I... I've had a crush on you since second year," she finally admitted, her voice strained with passion. "You're nothing like Malfoy. You're... you're..."
"What?" Harry's voice was a hungry growl in her ear. "What am I?"
"You're... you're everything," Pansy panted, her voice breaking. "You're... you're amazing, Harry."
With a triumphant grin, Harry felt his own climax approaching. He knew he had her now, knew she was his. "And what do you want from me?"
"Your... your attention," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I just want... I just want you to notice me. I want you to leave Granger and Weasley and give me your attention!"
It was all the encouragement Harry needed. He slammed into her one last time, feeling her body tighten around him. "Then take it," he grunted, his voice thick with desire. "Take it all, Pansy."
With a final, guttural cry, Harry released inside her, his hot cum filling her up as she came again, her body shaking with the intensity of her orgasm. Pansy's eyes squeezed shut, and she threw her head back, her mouth open in a silent scream as Harry's cock pulsed deep within her. She could feel his seed spurt out, painting the inside of her ass with his mark of ownership.
Their bodies remained joined for a moment, both of them panting and trembling with the aftershocks of their climax. Slowly, Harry's cock began to soften, slipping out of her with a wet pop. Pansy slumped against the wall, her legs giving out as she slid to the ground, her body covered in a sheen of sweat. Harry stepped back, his own chest heaving, his eyes never leaving hers.
Pansy felt a mix of emotions as she looked up at him. She was embarrassed, humiliated, and yet... satisfied. Harry had given her something she had never known she needed, something that she had been craving for years. And as much as she hated to admit it, she wanted more. She wanted him to look at her the way he had just now, to treat her like she was the most important person in the world.
As she sat there, panting and exposed, she realized that she had never felt so alive. The cold stone was a stark contrast to the heat of Harry's body, and she couldn't help but shiver. Harry reached down and offered her his hand, helping her to her feet. "You okay?" he asked, his voice gentle.
Pansy nodded, her cheeks flushing. "Yeah," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "That was..."
"Awful?" Harry offered, a smirk playing on his lips.
"A... amazing," she admitted, looking away. "But it's just this once, Potter. You can't tell anyone."
"Scout's honor," Harry said, his voice a low purr. He leaned down and placed his finger on her swollen lip, tracing the outline. Without thinking, Pansy's tongue darted out and licked his fingertip. Harry's eyes widened, and he felt his cock twitch at the sight. He hadn't expected that. "But I want you to remember this, Pansy," he said, his voice a mix of amusement and challenge. "Every time you talk to Hermione or Ron, I want you to think about how it feels to have my cock in your ass."
Pansy's eyes snapped back to him, and she felt a fresh wave of arousal at his words. "What?" she squeaked, her hand flying to her mouth as if she could hide the evidence of her desire.
"Just be a little nicer to them," Harry said, his voice a low command. "Do the bare minimum so that Slytherin doesn't think you're going soft on the mudbloods." He leaned in closer, his finger still under her nose. "And maybe, just maybe, I'll give you a little something extra next time."
Pansy stared at him, her eyes wide with shock and excitement. "Next time?" she whispered.
"If you're a good girl," Harry said, his voice a seductive promise. He reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his touch gentle despite the harshness of his words. "But for now, get dressed. We don't want to be late for breakfast."
With trembling hands, Pansy began to pull her clothes back on, her thoughts racing. As she did so, she couldn't help but glance back at Harry, his cock still standing tall and proud, glistening with their combined fluids. The sight sent a jolt of arousal through her, and she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning. This was not how she had planned her morning, but she couldn't deny the intense pleasure he had given her.
As they made their way back to the Great Hall, Harry kept his arm around her waist, his grip firm but not painful. Pansy felt a strange sense of belonging.
Meanwhile, Harry's mind was racing. He had always thought Pansy's behavior was driven by pure spite, but now he wondered if there was more to it. The way she had responded to him in the courtyard was unlike anything he had ever seen from her before. It was as if there was a hidden system in the simulation that governed public appearances and private desires. Perhaps her 'relationship level' with him had been much higher than he realized, but she had felt the need to maintain the façade of hating him for the sake of appearances. Or maybe it was a 'crush level' that existed alongside friendship, a hidden depth that could be unlocked under the right circumstances. Not for the first time, he wished he had the opportunity to play more of Dudley's abandoned video games.
Pansy, however, was still reeling from the encounter. Her body felt alive in a way it never had before, and she couldn't shake the feeling that Harry had seen straight through her. Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion and arousal. How could she possibly face him at the Slytherin table, knowing what they had just done? And yet, a part of her craved more of his attention, more of his dominance.
They reached the table, and Harry released her with a gentle squeeze. Pansy took her seat, her cheeks flaming as she avoided eye contact with everyone, especially Harry. The Gryffindors were too engrossed in their own conversations to notice anything amiss, but the Slytherins... they had noticed. Draco smirked at her, and she felt a cold wave of dread wash over her. Had he seen them? Did he know? The thought of his mockery was almost too much to bear.
Of course to Harry, he knew it was the exact same thing that happened every single day. Briefly he wondered what was passing through her mind, would she be aware that Draco turned to the left and smirked at her everyday before grabbing another sausage to add on to his plate, exactly 15 seconds before Blaise would stand up to make his way to the bathroom? Was she aware that she had no free will?
He took his seat, watching her closely, and took a sip of pumpkin juice. It was a peculiar sensation, knowing that he was the only one with the ability to make choices. It was like watching a play where he was the only actor with an unscripted role. The other characters would play out their scenes, oblivious to the fact that Harry could say or do anything, change the story entirely if he felt like it.
But what was the point of that? It wasn't fun to play God. It was... lonely. He had tried it before, deviating from the set path, whispering sweet nothings to Cho as he bred her in the library, or flirting with Hermione, exploring her virgin body but always being interrupted before he could claim her as his slut. But it always felt hollow, the lack of genuine reactions, the predictability of their responses, it was like throwing a surprise party for someone in a coma. Sure, the decorations were a surprise, but the guest of honor was always going to be asleep through it.
It was strange to think that Pansy had just had the most intimate, exhilarating, erotic, and passionate moment of her life, and yet she had as much say in it as a mannequin in a shop window. He felt a twinge of something, pity maybe, or perhaps guilt? But it was quickly washed away by the thrill of knowing he had the power to make her do anything. The thrill of watching her blush, knowing that she didn't have the free will to refuse him, was addictive.
And yet, as he took a bite of his toast, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something fundamentally wrong with it all. Like winning every game of chess because your opponent didn't know they could move the pieces. Sure, you'd win, but what was the point?
The room was filled with the usual morning chatter, the clinking of silverware, the occasional laugh. Harry found himself lost in thought, staring at his plate. The food looked so real, so... alive. It was like he was in a painting, a very detailed one, but a painting nonetheless. And he was the only one who could step out of the frame.
He looked up, and his eyes met hers for a brief second. She quickly looked away, her cheeks flaming red. What did she feel? Did she feel anything at all? Or was she just a very good program?
He pushed the thought aside, focusing on the here and now. He had to keep playing the game, keep the charade going. After all, he had made his choice to stay in this world. He had to live with the consequences of his consequence-free existence, even if it meant being the only free will in a sea of predetermined actions.
Their eyes met again, and she gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod. It was a silent acknowledgment, a secret shared between them. Harry felt a strange mix of excitement and dread. What had he unlocked in her? What would she do now? Would she remember this later? Would any of the girls remember later? How did their memories work? Sure he had figured out there was something tracking his progress throughout the universe working unseen in the background, but what was the extent of it?
But as he took another bite of his toast, he knew one thing for sure. Whoever wrote the simulation never put enough jam at the Gryffindor table.