Chapter Text
Pansy
By the time Pansy was 21, she'd left most of the pureblood world and its nonsense behind. She'd learned long ago that muggle-borns bled red the same as her. She was certainly no better than anyone else, and her three NEWTs compared to Granger's nine really drove that home. She'd had no trouble letting go of the pureblood courting rituals and the inane desire to create pureblood family lines. So, it was all the more confusing when she simply could not let go of the idea of producing an heir by her 22nd birthday. She'd been told from birth that you graduate Hogwarts at 17, court from 18-20, marry at 21, and are bred by 22. She'd had no problem ignoring the previous steps (she'd graduated Hogwarts at 18, thank you very much), so why was she obsessed with this particular demand?
It was so intense, this need to be bred, that it was affecting her life, her job.
"Anything to add, Ms. Parkinson?"
Pansy was startled from her musings, not for the first time, by her boss, Hermione, who brought her back to the current moment. Her thoughts had been relatively tame this time yet she was still mortified to have been called out in the meeting. Her attention was clearly not on the presentation she'd put together with Hermione for the Aurors on how to best interact with vampires.
"No, uh, nope. You covered it very well, Ms. Granger."
Hermione smirked and Pansy knew she'd be hearing about this soon.
Hermione bit her tongue during the walk back to level 4, but as soon as they were ensconced back in her office she turned on Pansy, a playful smirk on her face.
"What, had you so distracted in that meeting, hmmm? Any Auror in particular catch your eye?"
Pansy buried her face in her hands. "Honestly? No. But that doesn't change the fact that I can't think of anything other than getting fucked with no magical barriers and conceiving a child."
She walked over, placing a comforting hand on Pansy's back. "Listen, my lovely, pureblood friend. If this were one of our advocacy groups coming to you with this same problem, what would you tell them?"
Pansy looked up, her brow furrowed, surprised by the question. "But I am not a werewolf, a veela, or a selkie! Just a pureblood with a kink that won't leave my damned head."
Hermione shrugged. "Rigid courting behaviors, centuries of tradition that essentially becomes instinct, defined roles for the females and males, pureblood culture is essentially werewolf mating with fancier dress robes. We always tell them not to fight their instincts, so maybe you shouldn't either."
She scoffed, "You are not actually suggesting I take a week off to get fucked bare by some pureblood man as if I were a magical creature in heat, are you?"
Hermione sat on the couch in her office beside Pansy and looked her dead in the eyes. "You've tried ignoring it. You've tried taking care of things on your own. You’ve even tried brewing a suppressant. I think it's time you admit to yourself that this is something you need and let yourself have it."
"Maybe, MAYBE, if I had an idea of some man who would be willing to try and help me conceive and wouldn't be totally freaked out at the thought, maybe I'd consider it an option. But as it is, I'm just going to brew a stronger suppressant potion tonight."
"Alright, love. I understand, but please take it easy the rest of the afternoon. If any ministry department would understand this predicament, it's certainly ours."
Neville
He could tell she'd been on his floor.
That's what happens when you've been secretly pining after a woman for half a decade. He could recognize the smell of her perfume. He knew exactly why so many of the men were making comments about her pert arse and plush lips. He wondered briefly how much trouble he would get in for just socking those imprudent little new recruits on the nose for talking about her so disrespectfully. Not that his intentions were necessarily respectful in the strictest sense. Whatever business she'd had up on his level, he was glad he'd been otherwise occupied. The smell of her alone was enough to drive him to distraction. The last thing he needed was to make a fool of himself as he listened to her gorgeous voice talk about de-escalation techniques with centaurs or how to befriend a werewolf.
No, it was undoubtedly for the best that he'd been in a briefing room with Harry. Even if he did desperately wish he'd at least had a chance to see her.
After his briefing, Harry had invited Neville to grab lunch with him and Hermione at a nearby sandwich shop, so he got straight back to his paperwork, determined to finish it before they left to eat.
As he and Harry walked over to the shop, Neville told himself he wouldn't ask Hermione about her employee. No matter how badly he craved an update about her. It was too obvious. Hermione was going to catch on to his ridiculous crush soon.
Hermione arrived a few minutes after he and Harry did and settled in the seat between them.
"Hey Hermione, I heard you and Pansy were up on our level today. How did the presentation go?"
He mentally winced. He hadn't even made it one sentence without saying her name.
"It went well. Though Pansy has been rather distracted lately so I did most of the talking myself.”
"Oh?" Harry asked.
Neville was thrilled that Harry had asked so he didn't have to.
"Yeah, I guess growing up a pureblood makes her current age tough for her. But honestly, I've probably said too much. I should respect her privacy. How have you two been?"
Neville could only half-focus for the rest of the meal. He tried to participate in the conversation, but his mind was elsewhere. He nodded and mhm-ed in what he hoped were the appropriate places, but he had been brought up in Pureblood culture, sure not as strictly as some, but he knew precisely what distraction Pansy would have around this age. And if he was right about what Hermione had been implying… well, how could a man focus knowing that? Pansy was 21, if he wasn't mistaken (and he knew he wasn't), which meant her entire life, she'd expected to start trying for a baby now. The thought of breeding Pansy Parkinson had him hard as a rock under the table.
But Neville needed to know more. There were a few ways to take Hermione's words. Maybe Pansy was distracted because she was already trying with someone else, or perhaps she felt guilty that despite what she'd been trained to do, she didn't want to become a mother so young. But maybe, and Neville really hoped this was the case, she was looking for someone to produce an heir for.
He had to know. Had to put his hat in the ring, in case she was looking. This might be his only shot with Pansy, especially if he didn't act fast enough and some other prick got to her first. He had to act fast. When lunch was over, Neville waited until he was sure Hermione had enough time to get back inside her office before following in her footsteps right to level four and into the adjoining office of one Pansy Parkinson.
She didn't look up when he entered. Her head down, focused on making edits to a lengthy-looking bill. She held up one finger, making him wait. Neville was a patient man, wanting her for so many years proved that, and he could wait longer if he needed to. But he thought he should probably establish how this would go right from the start.
"Put the finger down and look at me," his voice had come out unintentionally deep, but he couldn't regret that—not with how well she obeyed.
Her sparkling blue eyes met his before traveling down his body, taking him in. He'd changed a lot since school; he knew that well enough. He had the kind of physique that would make women stop and check him out. But this was different. Better. She looked at him like he was a piece of meat and she was starving. Her eyes lingered on his broad shoulders, thick thighs, and strong arms before gliding back to his face. He felt so fucking powerful with a woman like Pansy lusting after him. Gods, it was everything he'd been waiting for. He should have come to her office and bossed her around years ago.
She looked like she'd do anything he asked at that moment, and he had oh so many things he wanted to ask.
Finally, she spoke. "Mr. Longbottom, what can I do for you?" Her voice was high and whiny, not at all the confident tone he was used to hearing from her.
"Please, it's Neville. And I actually think we may be able to do something for each other."
She raised one perfectly shaped brow at him. "Please have a seat."
He sat in one of the guest chairs across the desk from her and rested his ankle on his knee. He didn't miss how her eyes tracked the movement, pausing on his thigh again. He felt more confident every minute that he'd perfectly understood the situation Hermione had referenced.
"It was mentioned to me in passing that you are a bit preoccupied with some Pureblood issues at the moment."
Pansy sneered. "I am going to kill Hermione."
Neville chuckled. "She really didn't say much, but I related to the sentiment. I, too, am a Pureblood, approaching the age of 22. Please stop me if I am crossing any boundaries, but I have the same…preoccupation. We could help each other out. It could just be roleplay; no need to actually conceive an heir unless you wanted to, of course.
Pansy's breathing shallowed and her cheeks were turning pink. He thought it was a good sign—that and the fact that she hadn't kicked him out of her office screaming yet.
"But you'd be open to that? Having a child with me?"
Neville wanted to yell yes at the top of his lungs, but he thought perhaps that would be a bit too much. Instead, he settled on shrugging. "We could make that call as we … felt things out. "
She rolled her plush bottom between her teeth. "But either way, you'd be willing to help me… scratch that itch?"
He leaned in, wanting to be sure he was clear on this point: "It would be mutually beneficial."
She swallowed, placing her palms on the top of her desk. "I only have one more question."
Neville nodded, "Ask me anything you like." He kept his voice as even as he could, but his blood was hot. He wanted this, wanted her so fucking bad.
She blushed as she spoke, but she didn't stutter or shy away from the question. "Can you take control? Breed me like a proper Pureblood woman should be? Bending me to your will? Filling me up whenever you feel the need? Keeping me at your beck and call?"
Her words had him hard again. That was exactly the kind of dynamic he'd been dreaming about. She was so fucking perfect. But rather than tell her that, he decided he should show her.
He stood, and he knew she could see his cock, rock hard and pressing against the zip of his trousers. "Get on your knees," he growled.
Pansy obeyed instantly, her tight pencil skirt stretching over her arse and thighs as she got into position behind her desk, only the top of her head visible from his vantage point now.
"Crawl to me," he ordered.
She followed without hesitation, crawling on her hands and knees over to where he stood.
"If I am going to fuck that wet little cunt you need to make me hard for you."
If she wanted to point out that he was already painfully hard, her face didn't show it.
"Suck my cock, get me ready to put a baby in that fertile womb."
She bit her lip but didn't move.
"Well?" he demanded, genuinely annoyed as he'd waited long enough for this moment.
She took a deep breath and nuzzled his cock through the fabric of his trousers. "Neveile, I want to. I really want to, but we're in the office. Anyone could walk in. And you didn't even cast a silencing spell."
He grabbed her chin gently, pulling her so that she would look him in the eyes. "I don't recall asking where we were. And if anyone hears us, well, then good. That way, they'll know your cunt is claimed. You will not fuck anyone else until I put a baby in you. Is that understood?"
Pansy nodded, and Neville felt himself swell with pride. She didn't hesitate another moment. Her hands were at his trouser button. Popping it open and freeing his aching cock from the tight confines of his boxers.
She gasped as she registered how long and thick his cock was. He wanted to laugh. That little moment of revelation never got old.
"Oh, my Gods. It's huge," she moaned. "Neville, I'm not sure I can-"
He cut her off. "You just do the best you can, baby. You take care of me, and I'll take care of you."
She reached for him, and he stepped back. "Ah, ah. No hands, love."
She instantly put her hands behind her back, obeying him beautifully. She bent her neck at an awkward angle so that she could dip down to the head of his cock. He was leaking for her, and her tiny pink tongue lapped at him, collecting his precome. The sensation was light and playful. His balls tingled and he had to fight the urge to cant his hips and press himself down her throat. They would get there, he hoped but now was not the time. She wrapped her lips around his sensitive head and sucked, sending a jolt of pleasure straight down his spine. He groaned, but she continued to tease him. Running her tongue under the head of his cock, sucking in quick tiny tugs, with her cheeks hollowed - but never for long, never going deep enough. She was playing with him. It became clear to him that Pansy Parkinson loved sucking cock, and she was very, very good at it.
Slowly, she began taking more of him, working her way up along his shaft, never rushing. She flattened her tongue, pressed it along the vein on the underside of his cock, and when he moaned, she smiled around him.
"You are a very good girl, making me so hard for you. Faster now, love. I want you to swallow this cock whole and then I am going to give you my cum down your throat. Your cunt hasn't earned it yet."
She sped up, bobbing on his length. Neville watched, mesmerized, as his cock sunk into her mouth and slipped back out shiny and wet with her saliva. Her lips were plump and red. Such a pretty sight. She closed her eyes, focusing on the task, her muffled little mewls sending vibrations along his dick. He could have lasted longer, could have held off, but he had a meeting in a few minutes and she deserved her reward for sucking him off so well.
"I'm gonna come for you now, baby. Get ready for my come. You're gonna swallow it down, and I will mark you as mine from the inside out."
Her eyes sprung open and from the way she moaned, Neville wondered if she was getting close to coming just from the pleasure of blowing him and his words.
The thought of her pussy soaking wet and needy for him was what sent him over the edge. He pulled her by the back of her head fully down on his long cock; her eyes darted up to meet his, a serene look pooling in them as he exploded in her tight wet mouth. He came hard, his hips jerking as he shot ropes and ropes of his come down her throat. She pulled back a bit, catching the last few spurts right on her tongue. He looked down as she pulled off and watched as she stuck out her tongue. His seed was on display for him, settled on the center of her pink tongue. She was the perfect little pureblood submissive, filled with all the same dirty kinks as him. She was so fucking perfect.
He reached down, grabbed her chin and pulled her closer, inspecting the presentation she'd so lovingly prepared for him. After a moment, he released his tight grip on her chin. "Good job. You may swallow now."
She quickly closed her mouth and gulped the sticky-white cum down her throat. She smiled when she was done and stuck her tongue out again for him to see that she’d swallowed it all.
"Thank you for the gift, Daddy. Will I be allowed another?”
Neville wanted to aparate her home and fuck her for a month right then and there. He'd never heard a prettier sentence in all his life. Gods, he wanted to marry her and fuck babies into her perfect cunt until they had a whole brood.
Instead of doing any of that, he slipped his cock back into his trousers and checked his watch, feigning disinterest. Three minutes until he had to be in the Minister's office for a security meeting. "This was adequate. If I need you again, I'll Floo you. In case I do decide I want you, you aren't to come again without me there. Your orgasms are mine."