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ijustbewriting · 3 months ago

Text

A man who yearns is a man who earns

Wolfstar X fem!reader

Summary - In which Remus and Sirius quietly ( not really) yearn for the reader

Warnings : none, (delusional Sirius), shy reader I guess

A//N My first Wolfstar fic !

Word count: 1.2k

“ I want her so bad” Sirius groans softly watching as you laugh along with Lily and Marlene. Remus who had been reading had promptly stopped as he had watched his boyfriend look at the girl who they had both been crushing on as of late. You were in the same year as them, a beautiful and smart Ravenclaw who just so happened to waltz in the boys life and change them forever.

“If you keep starting at her she’ll think you’re a creep” Remus tells his boyfriend

“She’ll think about me !” Sirius gasps, Remus shakes his head at his gasp

“ You really need to stop”

“Why won’t she look at us “ Whines Sirius sitting next down next to Remus who was quick to wrap his arm around his waist and pull him closer.

“Don’t know love” He plants a kiss on his neck making Sirius shiver.

“Do you think she even knows our names” The young Gryffindor pouts.

In all honesty Y/N did know Remus and Sirius, how could she not? The famous group, the marauders. Known for pulling pranks and bringing fun to Hogwarts, it was hard to miss such a group.

Remus and Sirius especially, god were they gorgeous. Remus with his beautiful brown eyes that seemed to be lit by the sun itself, his curly hair that was always curled to perfection, his old soul which was so kind and oh Merlin’s beard was he so smart. The few classes she had with him where she would hear him answer the professors question’s correctly and even sometimes add even more information made her Ravenclaw heart swoon.

Sirius Black, oh Sirius Black. He captivated everyone’s heart. His unique grey eyes and long hair, and that smile. That Sirius Black smile. Charming is what he is, suave with his words having anyone flustered and blushing when Sirius would flirt with them. Everyone wanted him or wanted to be him. But only Remus Lupin was lucky enough to have a slice of whatever Sirius was offering but god did he want top give a piece to you.

You the beautiful creature who captured their hearts when Lily walked into the common room that fateful day. You both were working on a project for Potions. Both of them were awestruck by you. Swearing they had never seen someone as beautiful as you. They knew then and there that they wanted you, the question was how?

It seemed like any time that they wanted to see you, you were scurrying away, off to the library, your dorm or somewhere else where they could not reach you.

One time when Sirius was walking with James after heading back from quidditch practice. Then a sudden figure zoomed right past them, it was you. Sirius blinked and he turned to look at you as you left, he wanted to say something but by gods were you quick. As you turned the corner and disappearing from his sight he promptly fell to his knees.

“Come back my love PLE-“

As you had turned the corner, you stopped swearing that you had heard something

“Must of been the wind” you muttered to yourself.

It was not in fact the wind but none other than Sirius Black dramatically on his knees clutching his chest, the other hand reaching out for you.

“Mate get up this is embarrassing” James muttered

Truth is- you’re painfully shy. Having a crush on Remus Lupin and Sirius Black the it couple right next to Lily and James was painful, for so many reasons. One being the most obvious, they’re both together and you were no home wrecker. Two you could not imagine even being friends with them. They were so different from you, in a good way.

While you were more quiet and reserved, staying in your dorm to read and study. You enjoyed your me time more than anything. Parties at Hogwarts were something you rarely attended, given the fact that you didn’t drink or dance. The few times you did go was because a friend’s or Lily had dragged you. You would see both boys at these parties and they were the life of the party there was no way they would look over at you and want you, at least that’s what you’ve told yourself thus far.

It was far from the truth. Remus and Sirius both yearned for you silently or at least remus did, Sirisu was alwasy loud about those he cared about.

But enough was enough, both of them decided that they were going to get your attention one way or another.

As you exited you class, you sighed as you slinged your bag on your shoulder, the bag was heavy a reminder of all the homework you had to do.

"Ok I finish reading chapters one through twenty and then I can start my essay and give my self enough time-" you muttered to yourself but promptly stopped as your eyes landed on two figures. Remus and Sirius. Quickly and without blinking you turned your heel and began to walk the other way.

"No wait- hold on love" you heard Sirius voice as he catched up to you, now this is the one time you cursed Sirius and Remus's great hieght becasue with a couple of strides they had already caught up to you.

"Dove please" Remus said almost pleadingly. The nickname made you stop walking. The boys both next to you.

"Merlin's beard, your worse than a snitch, I don't even think James would be able to catch you" Sirius huffed in light laughter, Remus smiled soflty.

"We've been looking for you " said Remus

"You have?" you responed in a quiet voice

"yes love, for what feels like an eternity-"

"two months" Remus corrected

"felt like forver to me" huffed Sirius his lips almost pouting

"what for?" you ask

"well we wanted to ask you something actually" Remus started

"We want you so bad" blurted Sirius, now that made you completely freeze up.

"Sirius we said we were going slow" hissed Remus, swatting his partner gently on the shoulder.

"I can't- this will not be a slow burn love, I will not allow it" He shakes his head before grabbing your hand.

"Love, please we've been going crazy without you, you drive us insane and we want you in all ways possible, please let us treat you right, we won't ever hurt you and your days will be filled with love and passion-"Sirius's love declaration was cut of by his boyfriend.

"Pads you're scaring her" He says as he had been wacthing your reaction and it was all wide eyed and he wore you had stopped breathing for a moment. Sirius quickly shut up, the quickest Remus had ever seen him. After a moment of silence you finally spoke.

"You want me- you both want me ?" you sputtered finally breathing again

"Most ardently" Remus answered. You look between both boys, whom you've had been crushing onf for so long, who you had never ever in your life believed that they would ever look at you in that way but here they were. Sirius basically on his knees begging you to talk and Remus with his beautiful eyes asking, no pleading for a positive response. You drew in a deep breathe before answering.

"I want you guys too" You confess

"Praise Merlin and David Bowie she said yes Remus!" exclaimed Sirius.

"Yes I heard her love thank you" chuckled Remus who was now looking you fondly. Sirius who was still holding your hand gave it a small squeeze.

"Did you hear how Remus pulled a Mr. Darcy on you "

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itsreallynotriri · 2 months ago

Note

A regulus x chubby ravenclaw reader female x serverus Snape story please

Hidden in plain sight

Y/N has always struggled with insecurity, convinced that someone like Regulus Black could never notice her. Little does she know, he hasn’t stopped talking about her for weeks.

requested by misskity1912-blog

Regulus Black x Chubby Fem! reader

words: 944

warning: mentions of insecurity

note: I'm not familiar with Severus so it will take some time before I can start writing about him <3

masterlist, regulus masterlist

Y/N stood in front of the mirror in her dormitory, adjusting the hem of her robes as she stared at her reflection. Her hands unconsciously smoothed over the fabric, trying to hide the curves she had never quite learned to love. No matter how often she wanted to remind herself that beauty wasn’t defined by a single body type, the lingering insecurities whispered otherwise.

She turned slightly, frowning at her side profile. She envied the girls who seemed effortlessly graceful, the ones whose uniforms fit just right, whose confidence seemed so natural. She pulled at the fabric of her robes as if that would somehow change the way she looked, but nothing ever did. With a quiet sigh, she let her hands drop and turned away from the mirror, shaking off the nagging thoughts. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t like anyone was paying attention to her, least of all Regulus Black.

Still, as she made her way down to the Great Hall, her heart clenched at the thought of him, impossibly elegant and untouchable.

Y/N sat at the Ravenclaw table, absently poking at her breakfast as she half-listened to her housemates discussing their plans for the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend. It wasn’t as if she had any plans of her own—she rarely did. While she loved the idea of going, wandering through the cobbled streets with someone special, she knew that particular dream was unattainable.

Because that someone special was Regulus Black.

And Regulus Black was impossibly out of reach.

She had harbored a deep, quiet crush on the Slytherin for years. He was everything she was not—elegant, poised, respected. Meanwhile, she was the chubby Ravenclaw who kept to herself, more at home in the library than at social gatherings. She was always hyperaware of her appearance, tugging at the edges of her robes or crossing her arms over her stomach, trying to take up less space. The idea of him ever noticing her was laughable, and yet, she couldn’t stop herself from stealing glances at him across the Great Hall, allowing her mind to entertain impossible daydreams.

Little did she know that, at that very moment, Regulus Black was sitting at the Slytherin table, going on and on about her.

“She’s brilliant,” Regulus said, absently twirling his spoon in his porridge. “I saw her answering Slughorn’s question yesterday before he even finished asking it. And she was right. Of course, she was right. She always is.”

Barty groaned, dropping his head onto the table. “Merlin, not again.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “You’ve been talking about Y/N for weeks. Either do something about it or shut up.”

Pandora, always the most patient of the group, smiled encouragingly. “You should ask her to Hogsmeade, Regulus. She doesn’t seem to have any plans.”

Regulus hesitated, suddenly feeling very exposed. “She wouldn’t say yes.”

“How would you know?” Evan asked, exasperated. “It’s not like you’ve tried.”

“She’s never shown any interest in me,” Regulus admitted, suddenly feeling foolish for all the time he’d spent admiring her from a distance. “She’s intelligent, kind, beautiful—why would she waste her time on me?”

Barty nearly choked on his pumpkin juice. “You are Regulus Black. You have people practically lining up for the chance to go to Hogsmeade with you. Stop being an idiot and just ask her.”

Regulus pursed his lips. The idea of being rejected by Y/N was enough to make his stomach twist, but his friends’ words lingered in his mind. Maybe… maybe they were right.

Y/N sat alone in the courtyard, bundled in her robes as she read a book, the crisp autumn air nipping at her cheeks. The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, and most students had already retreated indoors, but she found the quiet comforting. It was easier to exist in the world of books than in reality where she was invisible to the person she liked most.

She was so lost in her reading that she didn’t hear footsteps approaching until a shadow fell over her pages. Glancing up, she nearly dropped her book when she saw Regulus Black standing before her, hands in his pockets, looking uncharacteristically hesitant.

Her heart leaped into her throat. “Oh. Um—hi?”

Regulus cleared his throat, shifting to his feet. “Hi.”

An awkward silence stretched between them, and Y/N struggled to understand what was happening. Was he lost? Did he need help with something? Had she done something wrong?

“I—” Regulus exhaled sharply, looking more nervous than she’d ever seen him. “Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?”

Y/N blinked, sure she had misheard him. “What?”

Regulus’ jaw tightened as if he were bracing for impact. “Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me?”

Her mind reeled. This had to be a joke, some kind of cruel prank. There was no way he—Regulus Black—was asking her out. Her stomach twisted with familiar self-doubt.

“Me?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper. “Are you sure?”

Regulus frowned slightly. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

She swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. “I just… I don’t really seem like your type.”

Regulus’ gaze softened as he took a step closer. “You’re exactly my type.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then nodded, a small smile forming on her lips. “I’d like that.”

Relief washed over Regulus’ face, and for the first time, he allowed himself to truly smile at her. “Good.”

As he walked away, promising to meet her in the entrance hall on Saturday, Y/N watched him go, her heart thudding wildly in her chest.

Maybe, just maybe, she had been wrong about being out of his reach.

#timothée chalamet #marauders #harry potter #regulus black x reader #regulus black imagine #regulus black #timothée chalamet imagines #fluff #mentions of insecurity #chubby reader #chubby y/n #fanfiction #regulus black fanfiction

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ruzz9 · 5 days ago

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Nostalgia Adulterated

NSFW +18

Severus Snape x FemChubby!reader

Summary: Your former professor, Horace Slughorn, invited you to his abode within the castle to celebrate your promotion at the Ministry. You dragged Snape along, but you hadn’t accounted for the peculiar wine at the reception.

A/N: Don’t worry—intimate matters only involve your old Severus. No third wheels here. 🙂‍↕️

Warnings: Smut, loss of virginity, virginity, first time, possessive sex, multiple orgasms, drinking, adulterated wine, angst, rough.

6k words

You knew very well why you were at Hogwarts that night. It wasn’t a fortuitous return, nor an official summons from the institution. No, the invitation had come from one of your old professors, someone who, with his persuasive charm and zeal for keeping useful connections, now clamored for your presence. Horace Slughorn, with his loving and warm hospitality, surely hid behind his smiles and effusive recollections some veiled intention. It wouldn’t surprise you if he were trying to weave your recent appointment at the Ministry into a delicate web of favors and influence. It was no secret to you: you knew his methods, his ways of operating. However, you agreed. Nostalgia had its own magnetism, and the idea of a dinner at his abode within the castle was a tempting entertainment.

What you did not expect was to find him.

You turned a corridor with confident steps, your mind lost in memories of your student days, and you almost collided with a tall figure in dark robes. Both of you were striding quickly, and the impact was nearly inevitable—if not for his swift reaction to stop in time. You looked at him, and there he was: Severus Snape, his expression unreadable, brow barely furrowed, examining you with a flicker of surprise just barely perceptible in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in his characteristically skeptical tone, as if your presence in the castle were some kind of anomaly.

You had guessed as much. He was surprised to see you walking Hogwarts' halls after so long.

"I’m going to dinner with Slughorn" you commented with feigned indifference, as if it were a simple commitment and not a maneuver to maintain his network of contacts.

The idea of dragging Professor Snape with you had arisen at that very instant, almost like a flash of inspiration. It would be a fascinating contrast. With him present, Slughorn would be forced to moderate himself. His overflowing enthusiasm would find an insurmountable wall in Snape’s severe gaze, and perhaps, just perhaps, that would spare you the discomfort of having to navigate favors wrapped in sentimentality. Besides… you admitted there was something amusing about the idea.

And then at just the right moment, you added with apparent nonchalance: "Why don’t you accompany me?"

His reaction was immediate. You observed him, seeing his uncomfortable expression and his natural resistance to the mere thought of sharing a table with his former head of house.

"Ridiculous" he snapped without hesitation. "I see no need for such a gathering."

But you were not one to give up easily. With a persistent smile, you began to insist, pointing out that the presence of another person would balance the conversation, that without him, the evening would likely turn into an endless monologue from Slughorn about former students and worn-out anecdotes.

“Wouldn’t it be interesting, for once, to share a meal without the strict formalities of the institution? Don’t you think it sounds exciting?” you suggested. Your eyes gleamed.

His expression grew even harder.

“I’d rather ingest poison,” he replied with utter seriousness, and in an attempt to evade you, he took a step to the right.

You moved without thinking, sliding into position to block it. His eyes narrowed.

"Professor, come on," you insisted in an almost sugary tone. "Slughorn would be thrilled to have you there."

Snape tried to go his way, you, with all the intention disguised as innocence, moved in his direction again, blocking him once more. You didn't pause, you didn't give him a chance to respond.

"l'm truly glad to see you, Professor. You know, I miss the days when you were my mentor."

He tried to move again, now a step aside. You edged forward with the same precision, not giving him a break.

“One might say it’s nostalgic, don’t you think? Coming back here, remembering those days,” you continued, pretending not to notice his growing irritation. “You should come to dinner with me, for old time’s sake.”

Another attempt. Another block from you. Snape exhaled sharply through his nose.

"Slughorn appreciates you a lot..." you added, taking a step closer to ensure he wouldn't escape.

This time his scowl deepened so severely it looked like he was seriously considering using magic to move you out of the way.

“I could hex you right now and feel no remorse.”

“It’ll be pleasant,” you interrupted, unfazed, “we could have all sorts of enlightening conversation, three exceptional wizards around one table.”

Snape exhaled in resignation, looking at you as if you were the most infuriating creature. He watched you with a mix of exasperation and resignation. Then he closed his eyes for a second, as if trying to summon within himself the patience he clearly didn’t have.

“If I accept, will you get out of my way and stop irritating me?”

You smiled with satisfaction.

"I solemnly swear," you said with a hand on your chest.

"Make it quick," he grunted. Without saying anything more, he turned on his heels and started walking toward Slughorn's abode, muttering something unintelligible about the unbearable stubbornness of some individuals. You followed him with barely concealed satisfaction. You had won.

They arrived shortly, without saying a word. You stopped in front of the door and knocked firmly. At your side, Snape had already turned, slipping back down the corridor with the clear intent of vanishing. You noticed—and with a swift flick of your wand, you conjured a spell that halted his cloak mid-motion, yanking him back with a sharp tug. Snape nearly lost his balance, but his reaction was immediate: he spun around, wand in hand, fury barely contained and ready to curse you without the slightest hesitation.

Your growing nerves were on the verge of betraying you.

And then, the door opened.

Both of you froze on the spot, as if someone had captured the scene in perfect stillness. Snape had hidden his wand in the shadows of his robe and raised his chin with composure, while you lowered yours with the same naturalness of someone who had done absolutely nothing improper.

Slughorn didn’t seem to notice anything strange. Or if he did, he didn’t care.

"Oh, how wonderful!" exclaimed Slughorn with his characteristic exaggerated spontaneity, extending his arms with overflowing excitement. His eyes sparkled with genuine joy upon seeing you. "My dear, what a joy to see you again!"

He enveloped you in a strong hug that almost lifted you off the ground. Amidst laughter, you returned the gesture, although you were quick enough to steal a glance at Snape out of the corner of your eye. His expression was priceless.

And then, Slughorn saw him.

"Oh! Severus!"

Slughorn's enthusiasm grew even more, if that was possible. Snape tightened his jaw upon noticing the direction things were taking, but before he could utter a word, you took the initiative casually.

"I couldn't resist inviting him," you said lightly. "Someone I also hold in great esteem, and I’m sure you would be pleased to receive him too."

Snape let out a slow breath and, under his breath, murmured with irony:

"Oh, yes. An invitation impossible to refuse."

Horace, either oblivious or deliberately indifferent to his sarcastic tone, caught him in the same enthusiastic hug he had given you. Snape, of course, did not reciprocate at all, but Slughorn did not seem affected in the slightest.

“Come now, both of you, inside!” he said cheerfully, stepping aside to let you in. “This is a special occasion, indeed. You know, Severus! I always wished you had joined my little club back when you were a student—it would’ve been an honor to have you.”

Snape made a barely audible sound, which could well have been a brief laugh or a snort of disbelief.

Slughorn burst into hearty laughter, undeterred by the grumble, and closed the door behind you.

The room was lit with a cozy warmth, and the atmosphere was exactly the same as you remembered: elegant but overflowing with excess, with comfortable furniture, dim lights, and a certain order.

"Ah, but this is not an ordinary meeting!" Slughorn exclaimed as he headed to a shiny antique sideboard. He turned his head for just a moment to ask what they would like, but without waiting for an answer, he had already decided for everyone. He opened a bottle of dark wine, with a dense and aged aroma, and poured a couple of glasses with a satisfied smile. Then, for himself, he poured a lighter variety. “This one sits better with my stomach… age-related things, you know,”

You took the glass he offered and raised it kindly. Snape held his with just two fingers, the stem firmly between his index and thumb, and lifted it with the slightest of gestures, barely a tilt. His free fingers rhythmically tapped the surface of the table, in no hurry to drink.

"To three exceptional wizards gathered here tonight!" toasted Slughorn, his face flushed with excitement. "And to the old times, always so vivid in memory."

"Charming," said Snape quietly, barely audible, with no emotion whatsoever.

The conversation began without delay, as was typical of Slughorn. He turned to you, resting an elbow on the armrest of his chair while holding his glass.

“You know, dear, young Severus was an extraordinary student in my classes,” he said with a thrill. “Brilliant! Naturally gifted in Potions, of course, but with a mind that went far beyond the conventional.”

Snape, who had barely touched his wine, clenched his jaw with a barely perceptible gesture.

“In fifth year,” Slughorn continued, now fully immersed in the tale, “he appeared in my office with the tips of his fingers completely blackened. Claimed it was a miscalculation in a potion. But I wasn’t fooled!”

He gave Snape a light tap on the arm with a familiarity few would dare to display.

“It wasn’t a mistake, was it, Severus? You wanted to test the reaction for yourself.”

Snape set his glass down on the table with a soft clink. “One must be aware of all possible outcomes—only then can precision be achieved,” he replied in his most emotionless voice.

“Oh, of course!” Slughorn agreed eagerly. “Although, if I’m not mistaken, that experiment almost cost you the use of your right hand.”

You struggled to suppress a smile. Snape’s face remained stony, but the slight stiffness in his posture betrayed his discomfort with the direction the conversation had taken.

You swirled the wine in your glass with interest.

“Really?”

Without moving his head, Snape glanced up at you. There was no expression, but something in the atmosphere tensed. Snape cut the conversation with a dry and precise tone:

“I’m afraid this evening is not meant to dissect years of my youth. Perhaps it would be more fruitful to speak of our guest’s meteoric rise in the Ministry.”

There was a momentary silence. Slughorn nodded, not too put off, but you felt the direct blow to the stomach. You had brought Snape specifically to divert this kind of conversation… and he himself had brought it up. Very much in his style. Slow poison, well calculated.

Fortunately, the conversation flowed with an almost magical naturalness during dinner; it was not as bad as you had imagined. Slughorn spoke with overflowing enthusiasm, praising your achievements both academic and professional with overly grandiose adjectives that made you blush. You, true to your style, preferred to downplay your merits, humbly thanking him, elegantly diverting the compliments to maintain the balance between respect and discomfort.

Snape, as expected, didn’t speak much. But he didn’t appear detached. He observed. He participated with brief, sharp remarks—sometimes even sarcastic, though less biting than usual. Something about the way he sat there told you he wasn’t quite as uncomfortable as he seemed. His eyes roamed the table with care—on you, on Slughorn, on the glass. He drank. Not anxiously, but with steady consistency. Horace went from glass to glass, laughing louder, talking faster, and drifting into anecdotes barely related to the present.

What was surprising was that the atmosphere was comfortable. Warm, even. And that was not something you expected. You anticipated evasions, tension, a forced conversation. But no. Everything felt so strangely well-woven, so sincere, that you found it hard not to fully surrender to the evening.

Between dinner, dessert, and the open bottles, Slughorn fell into his natural state of sentimental drunkenness. He became more nostalgic than usual, his words more drawn out, his eyes heavier. At one point, he let out a gigantic yawn and simply settled more into his armchair, as if he were ready to fall asleep right there.

It was then that you noticed something changed. Not in him. In Snape.

He gently took your empty glass and refilled it, without even looking at the bottle, as if he had done it many times before. He brought it closer to you with the same meticulous manner, but without saying a word. And when you lifted your gaze to thank him, you found him looking at you with an expression so subtly different that you paused for a moment longer.

"I remember..." he said in a low voice, as if he were barely thinking out loud, "that you would stay longer in the classroom after class. Even when I sent you to detention. You always came back."

You looked at him skeptically, though without moving the glass away.

"Are you saying that as something positive, Professor?"

He raised an eyebrow slightly, but there was a strange softness in his expression. Not that usual rigidity that boxed him into stony gestures. No. It was... different.

"I don’t usually waste time remembering my students. But you, you were persistent. Despite everything, something about you seemed... Curious."

You took a small sip, as if to give yourself some margin. Was what you just heard real? Or was the wine starting to play tricks on your senses?

Then you connected the dots.

Slughorn. The bottle. That vague statement about the clearer variety of wine, which "sat better in his stomach." He hadn’t drunk the same thing as you two. And the change... was undeniable. You felt it in yourself as well. You were more comfortable than usual, more open, your filters more tenuous. It was hard to say if it was the natural effect of the alcohol or something more elaborate.

You knew that Slughorn would never put anything dangerous in the drink. But manipulating emotions for the sake of a perfect evening... that was another matter. That was completely his style.

You glanced at the professor dozing in his chair, then at Snape, who was now playing with the base of his glass, silently, but closer, more tangible.

You were lost in thought. “Sweeten nostalgia”… that’s what Professor Slughorn would have said, right? To justify a little alteration. To achieve the perfect atmosphere.

But what you could never have anticipated was the delayed effect that was beginning to bloom in Snape. One as delicate as it was explosive.

"Your boldness. That voracious enthusiasm for complex study…"

Each word was closer. Lower. More direct.

You were like a version... less broken of me. And seeing what you’ve achieved," he added, his voice tinged with something that sounded dangerously close to pride, "was to be expected."

You dared to swallow, barely, as your fingers brushed the glass in a mechanical gesture. His tone wasn’t flattering. It was clinical, analytical, but filled with something that felt dangerously personal.

You realized too late how close he was. Your heart raced, and your body, a mix of instinct and confusion, began to back away just… until his hand rose.

Large. Rough. Firm.

He held you by the chin with just enough strength to stop you from moving, but without hurting. His eyes, black, intense, searched for something in yours. Perhaps a confirmation. Perhaps nothing. His other hand rested on your waist, with a strange softness. Not with violence, not with urgency.

And then, without another warning, he kissed you.

Your body tensed immediately, and your eyes widened, unable to process whether it was surprise or fear you were feeling. It was a contained kiss, not clumsy, but charged with something primal, as if it had been kept for years behind clenched teeth. There was no sweetness in it, but there was a fierce respect.

He pulled away barely from you.

"Professor...?" you whispered, the word cracked against the edge of a sigh, as if saying it were a spell that could undo what had just happened.

He did not respond. His eyes remained fixed on yours, as if each second of silence spoke more than any phrase. You still felt the brush of his lips on yours, the warmth of his hand on your chin.

His fingers still pressed against your soft skin, over that generous curve, as if he owned the right to hold you, at least for that moment. The weight of something ancient and dense seemed to have awakened between the two of you.

The room felt heavy, filled with a warmth that didn’t come only from the fire in the hearth. Slughorn, overcome by drink, breathed deeply from his armchair, lost in a deep sleep that would not be interrupted. In front of him, however, reality was unfolding with a silent intimacy.

He pulled you closer with unexpected confidence, guiding you toward the firmness of his body. You settled onto his lap with a slowness that felt like vertigo. Only the slight creak of the chair. The heat beginning to concentrate in his palms over your clothed skin. Time became thick. Only the ever-decreasing distance between his breath and yours.

There were no words.

Your fingers found the edge of his cloak, held on, let go. You didn’t know if you were trembling from the closeness or from the awareness of what this meant: crossing a threshold you never thought would open.

It was a suspended language, never spoken, that now began to write itself into the air you shared. His lips met yours once more, this time with greater intent, without hesitation. The hand that had rested on your waist descended with precision, exploring the outline of your back, pausing for a second just at the edge of your dress, before sliding it upward.

The fabric rose with a timid whisper, and there, in that suspended pause, in that fragment of contained air, it was then that you said it.

"It’s the first time that..." your voice came out in a broken thread, more tremulous than your hands. "I’ve never..."

You didn’t finish the sentence. You couldn’t. The weight of the moment, combined with the full awareness of the insecurity of your body, so different from others, so yours, so real, weighed down on your chest. You tried to cover yourself, without really doing it. Not because he had looked at you with judgment, but because you didn’t know how to hold his silence. You had never imagined yourself in this situation. Until a few hours ago, your relationship with him was completely exhortative. You didn’t know what to do with that gaze so attentive, so penetrating, that seemed to read every corner of your confusion and newfound vulnerability.

Snape did not move right away. He just watched you. As if the confession of your virginity held more value than any ancient spell. As if your wide nervous eyes and flushed skin had touched him in a secret place he himself rarely visited.

And then he spoke. His voice was low, raspy, but without a hint of mockery.

"I know."

Your thighs, wide and tense from the position, awkwardly adjusted over his legs. The dress, gathered up to the middle, left the curve of your skin exposed against the roughness of his dark pants.

You shifted, unsure. The heat in your face was almost unbearable. Your eyes searched for anything but his. Perhaps the ground, perhaps an escape. The tension you always shared was still there, persistent, marking its presence now, even in a different kind of silence.

With devastating calm, both of his hands sank into your wide hips, into that soft flesh that molded under his touch, warm, alive. A grip with a reverence that made you hold your breath. As if there was nothing more important than bringing you back to yourself.

"You have always been unusually difficult to ignore," he said quietly, as if each word cost him.

One of his hands barely moved down. The tip of his fingers traced the line where your skin met the fabric of your panties.

His fingers pushed the damp fabric of your underwear aside, and the contact with your center was gentle. He drew barely perceptible circles, testing your reactions, listening to every gasp, every involuntary contraction. And when he slid a finger inside you, he did so with precise slowness, guided by your ragged breath and the way you clung tighter to his shoulders.

Your hips moved awkwardly. You wanted to avoid that sticky sound, that tremor, that moan that escaped you, but he took it with satisfaction. As if there was nothing more erotic than your nervousness.

Your hips moved involuntarily, causing a more direct friction between your thighs and his hardness. He groaned, a low, contained sound, but it reached you to the bones.

He added another finger, measuring your body, opening you up with a patience that contrasted with his evident desire, with the rigidity of his erection beneath you, pressing against you just where you were most sensitive.

You felt when his fingers retreated, damp, warm, leaving a stinging trail of pain and need. You raised your gaze just in time to see him move his hand to the opening of his pants. The movements were dry, skilled. There was no rush. The sound of the leather yielding. It was all a current that ran through you.

Your breath hitched again, and your legs seemed to hesitate for a moment. He noticed. His gaze, dark yet attentive, did not leave you as he pulled down his pants just enough to free his erection. He brushed against you, warm and firm, right between your legs still open over him.

"You're going to feel it," he said, low, direct. "It won't be gentle."

He positioned the tip of himself between your lower lips, still barely covered by the displaced fabric, and slowly pushed, pressing against your wet but tense entrance. Your body reacted with a jolt. A muffled moan escaped you as you felt him open you up, invade you. Your nails clung to the fabric of his cloak, purely instinctually.

"Shhh," he murmured, with one hand on your back. "Calm down..."

And with a single thrust, measured yet forceful, he took you completely, giving you a raw sensation of being split in two.

The heat, the pressure, the feeling of being stretched like this for the first time... it all overwhelmed you. You closed your eyes, drowning in the total contact, the way his hips rose to meet you from below, taking you to the depths, where modesty was useless.

The burning displaced everything else. A stabbing, sharp pain, barely concealed by the moisture that had prepared you. A moan escaped you, unlike the previous ones. It was not pleasure. It was an internal burn, a real invasion that your body did not yet know how to accept.

Your body tensed over his. Your back arched, your fingers dug fiercely into his shoulders. Snape gasped softly, through clenched teeth, noticing the defeated resistance, the slight wet pull that betrayed you. A thick, warm sensation mingled with the friction. When he looked down, he saw the red stain, as subtle as it was definitive, at the base of his member. The last threshold of your inexperience. Now, broken.

Your legs trembled around him. You felt your hips full, too sensitive, and for a moment you thought about how you must look from the outside. So open. So naked. But before shame could settle in, he spoke again, through gritted teeth.

"This is how I wanted to see you. Fucking mine."

His movements were slow, not out of tenderness, but for the pure pleasure of savoring you inch by inch. His grip remained firm on your waist, forcing you to feel every thrust, every touch, as if he wanted to mark you from within.

You moaned again, between a whimper and surrender, pressing your lips as if trying to hold back something more.

"It hurts..." you whispered, not wanting to say it, unable to avoid it.

Snape leaned his face to your ear, his uncontrolled breath brushing your neck.

"It will pass," he replied as he sank back into you.

There was no comfort in his words. Only certainty. He was not a man who knew how to ask for permission, nor to feign sweetness. But his way of holding you, guiding you, of not stopping despite the slight tremor of your thighs, spoke of absolute possession.

The moisture mixed with what remained of the tearing. Sticky, warm. It dripped down your thighs as your hips slowly adjusted to his thickness.

Amidst spasms of discomfort, you began to move over him by yourself, more clumsily than sensually, it was he who released a breath as if something inside him broke.

His hands slid down your wide thighs, over the soft flesh that trembled from the impact of your bodies.

The pain did not disappear completely. It persisted, dull, like an echo in your guts. But your body was starting to surrender. He felt it in the way your pelvis began to seek his with more urgency, in how your hips, still clumsy, still somewhat inexperienced, tried to follow his rhythm, desperate to reach him. The gasp that escaped him was darker and more ragged. As if he could no longer contain himself. He gritted his teeth, and suddenly, took control.

His hands descended, until gripping you more firmly beneath your thighs and lifting you slightly, then guiding you forcefully downwards. He made you fall onto him with measured violence, over and over again, establishing a rhythm where you could no longer think, only let yourself be used. You filled him completely, wet and hot, still somewhat in pain, but the constant friction of his pelvis against your clitoris turned everything into an urgent pleasure.

And then, that rising wave, that knot in the pit of your stomach that transformed into spasms. Your nails dug into him as you felt it. The first true moan escaped you uncontrollably, loud, almost clumsy, and he let out a rough sound laden with desire in approval.

Your body trembled, convulsing around his, trapping him. You gripped him from within with an unexpected strength, your legs involuntarily closing around him, and he did not stop. Not for a second. He continued to thrust into you from below, faster, deeper, his breathing on the verge of breaking.

And when you were still moaning, giving and shaking, it was he who broke now.

With a low, almost guttural groan, vibrating in his throat, hoarse, choked against your neck, Snape spilled inside you in a raw explosion. He held you with both hands as if the orgasm robbed him of control over his body. The warmth of his seed filled you instantly, wet, thick, mixing with the blood that had not fully dried yet. The contrast was wild. Intimate and Irreversible.

They remained like that, entwined, breathing as if the air had become denser. Your forehead resting on his shoulder, his hands still holding you, lost and absorbed, while silence fell, heavy, over both.

He still remained inside you, as firm as at the beginning, as if the climax had not drained a bit of his desire. You felt him throb inside you, hot, latent, and a new wave of excitement coursed through your spine despite the sharp echo of of the recent tearing. You barely moved, in a gentle sway, seeking him again, forcing him to feel the effect he still provoked in you. A shiver shook his body; the sensitivity after his orgasm was no barrier against the raw intensity of the moment. He let out a low growl, with that dangerous mix of rage and pleasure, and you knew he had lost control again.

Without warning, his hands closed over your hips and he lifted you as if you weighed nothing. Your legs barely managed to wrap around him before he positioned you against the table in front of you. The coldness of the wood against your skin contrasted with the heat that still vibrated between your legs. The noise didn’t seem to disturb Slughorn’s deep sleep at all, who still lay knocked out by alcohol on the other side of the room.

One hand pressed firmly against your lower back, forcing you to lean forward, while the other gripped one of your thighs, lifting it, opening you more for him.

"We haven't finished" he murmured, almost with fury, and moved inside you again, with more hunger than before.

Your hips began to move on their own, surrendered to the rhythm imposed by his grip. You felt yourself being filled over and over again, with the fierce weight of his flesh opening you and claiming every part of you. Your skin burned, your body vibrated… and in the midst of that vertigo, between moans and spasms, your voice came out broken, dragged by the impulse to confess what still bound you to guilt.

"Professor..." you gasped, your voice shaky. "The wine… the one Slughorn gave us… I think it had something in it."

He didn’t stop, but his body tensed immediately.

"What?" He let out a heavy exhalation, more like a whip than a question.

"I’m not sure…" you said between moans as he kept thrusting into you. "I suspect that… it must provoke some mix of relaxation... an increase in sensitivity... emotional and... physical".

He stopped dead in his tracks, the silence that followed was terrible.

He straightened without letting go of you, his eyes burned with barely contained rage, beneath the shadow of his soaked forehead. His jaw clenched. You knew it instantly — it wasn’t just disgust. His expression was thick with mistrust.

"Are you saying that Slughorn drugged us?!" he spat through clenched teeth with growing irritation, as his thrusts resumed. Deeper. There was no longer delicacy, nor care. But it was not against you. It was against the situation. Against the humiliation of having let himself go.

"That because of that stupidity" he continued, each word punctuated by the impact of his hips against yours, "I find myself here, buried deep inside my former student, losing every damn gram of self-control that has taken me decades to build".

He pressed you against him as if he wanted to fuse you into his body. Your lips barely managed to form sound. Pain returned for a second with the accelerated rhythm, but you didn’t complain. You were soaked in him. Inside, outside, everywhere.

"And yet…" he murmured, his voice broken by rage. "I can’t stop".

Because it was true. Despite the wine, despite the anger, despite the judgment. The way your body trembled around his, still so tight, still so wet, was consuming him.

"It's not your fault," he grunted. "But damn it... you dragged me here."

And with one last push, fierce, deep, he came again. More violent than before. He filled you a second time, with an explosion of heat so dense that your body felt it even more than the first. He grunted as he emptied himself inside you, with his teeth clenched, breath ragged as if he were exorcising something dark that had inhabited him forever.

He didn't move immediately.

He remained inside you, burning, gasping, with his forehead resting on your collarbone. His whole body trembled. Not from pleasure. From fury.

The morning light of the Great Hall stunned him directly in his eyes. Every clink of cutlery against plates, every early laugh from the students, was a stab in his skull hammered by a terrible headache. Snape dropped into his usual seat, his every movement taut with fatigue and an unmistakable sense of discontent. The air smelled of toasted bread, sweet fruits, and freshly brewed coffee, and yet, it all felt suffocating to him.

And to make matters worse, Slughorn settled next to him with a satisfied smile and a bubbly gleam in his eyes, clearly not remembering (or not wanting to remember) how many glasses he had drunk last night. He had a napkin stuffed into his collar like a bib and a piece of blueberry pie on his fork.

"Ah, Severus! Good morning, boy." he chewed enthusiastically, oblivious to the stony expression beside him. "What an evening last night, huh? You were more animated than usual. I think I finally managed to soften that heart of yours."

Snape did not respond. He merely served coffee with a hand that barely contained the tremor. He needed it loaded with caffeine. Strong. Very strong.

"What a shame that young Y/N left without saying goodbye." Slughorn took another bite, unaware of anything. "She was lovely last night. Brilliant as always… that dress was very charming, don’t you think?"

The silence was so sharp that even the elderly man seemed to notice it.

Snape put down the cup with a sharp thud that splashed a bit of the dark liquid onto the saucer. He turned slowly toward him, with a look of pure ice.

"What the hell did you put in the wine, Horace?"

The elderly man blinked, tilting his head as if he did not understand the question. Or pretended not to.

"Huh? The wine? Oh… just a touch of cordial opening elixir. I use it at receptions, you know… it smooths conversations, dissolves tensions... nothing serious, I assure you."

Snape squinted. "Nothing serious?"

"Come on, Severus," Slughorn laughed, raising his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "You know better than anyone that there is no spell or potion capable of forcing someone to do what they do not truly desire. It just… helps them admit it."

Snape tensed even more. The echo of your gasping voice, your body clinging to his over that damned table, pierced him like a dagger. He didn't clearly remember what came next, only the scent of your skin, the taste of his own shame, and the persistent burn of having let himself be carried away. And now, you were gone. Without a note. Without a word. As if it had never happened.

"The next time you pretend to manipulate me as if I were one of your social experiments," he murmured with contained poison, "be sure not to add ingredients that affect my perception and judgment."

Slughorn looked at him with a mix of surprise and genuine confusion.

"Severus... I didn't know it would affect you like that. It was a kind night, I thought..."

Snape got up without saying more, the cloak fluttering with his movement. He left the half-drunk cup and walked out of the dining room with long, stiff strides, not looking back.

"What the hell happened last night...?" Slughorn murmured softly.

#Severus Snape #severus snape x reader #harry potter #severus smut #smut #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter oneshot #harry potter smut #hp fandom #hp marauders #hp #x fem!reader #x chubby reader #chubby #chubby femme #professor snape #alan rickman

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underoospeterparker · 1 year ago

Note

i am obsessed with james being obsessed with stretch marks - and as someone with them it honestly sucks how curvy reader isn’t as popular

like he would totally run his fingers over where the stretch marks peak over your hips

ugh yes!!

james potter x chubby!fem!reader, 0.3k words

"Sweetheart," James called you over from the bedroom. You paused your show and got up, rather reluctantly at first but more excitedly when your boyfriend patted for you to join him on your bed.

You all but flung yourself onto him and James laughed as you settled your weight onto him. "Is this okay?" you asked shyly.

James gave you one of his perfect smiles. "Yes, it's okay." He paused, then added jokingly, "Why? You don't think I can handle it?"

You giggled and shifted on top of him, twisting your body so you could see him better. "No," you murmured, your voice gentle, "I know you can handle it." You glanced pointedly at his biceps and he shook with laughter.

"That's right," he whispered, bringing you closer to his chest and you clung to him like a hyena.

You lay there for a while, James running a soothing hand in sweeps up and down your back until you went lax in his arms. Before you could pull his hands away, he reached towards your hips, thumbing at the stretch marks that plagued your skin.

You motioned to move away but James tightened his hold around you. "You're not going anywhere, honey," he said under his breath. "Wanna look at you. Please?"

Nobody could ever say no to James when he asked sweetly like that. So you complied, relaxing like putty in his embrace.

He traced his finger around and up over your hip bones, pulling your shorts slightly lower so he could see every mark that was on your skin. You looked up at him as he worked, a small, adoring smile on your face that contrasted with his furrowed eyebrows as he made to trace every stretch on your hipbone.

When he was done, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. "I love your stretch marks," he whispered, "and I love you."

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yarafic · 7 months ago

Text

Chapter 1

"Keeping my distance Because I know I can't Have you."

" Give it here, Sirius!" Remus shouts for his friend to hand him the diary and the pile of letters that they found.

Sirius ignores him. As he runs away from Remus laughing, he is intrigue of the objects that he has found. Curious as to who left them behind... if so who left them and did they do it in purpose or by accident. Getting near to common room of the Gryffindors, he shouts the password to the fat lady to get in. The Lady huff in annoyance by the rude behavior of the boy but gradually allows him in. Remus trailing behind him, whispers an apology for his friend behavior.

Shaking his head, he goes to Sirius to take away the items from him. Remus didn't want to invade the privacy of this individual. Nor did he want this person to be ridiculed by his friends. Which is odd because he does not know who this person could be?

"Sirius, hand those to me." He tells him from behind, ignoring the looks that we given to them. Lily raise a brow towards Remus but he simply shook his head, telling her not right now.

Sirius only responds was a laugh and he rush to their dorm.

The curly haired boy barges into the room, "Hey lads, I found this diary and letters." Sirius tells James and Peter. James instantly looks fascinate by his friend discovery, he gets up from where he was laying and goes to grab the diary. Sirius pushes him away and goes to sit on his messy bed, opens the diary begins to check if the owner decide to put their name on it. But all he could find was their initials, S.B.M. He will investigate who it belongs to later.

The beginning of the page was filled with doodles and what seems like an owl grasping a letter. He smiles softly and turns it around to shows the boys, James found it adorable.

"Sirius, you have no right snoop into peoples belongs." Remus declares, putting his hand out.

James nudges him away and says, "What person abandons it in the first place?"

"You both act like you never forgotten something." Remus states, clearly annoyed with his best friends. They can act quite immature for their age.

"Ooh, let's start from the beginning!" Sirius states, as he flip through the diary.

Remus shakes his head, giving up on his friends not reading the diary. He felt sorry for the person that were about to have their privacy invaded.

September 1

I have finally gotten my letter! I'm so excited to go to Hogwarts!!! I can't believe it! I do hope that I get into Ravenclaw... but I do worry that I don't make any friends. What if people don't like me...

"This journal is the start off of first year!" Peter exclaims, as he bring himself closer to Sirius so he could read from his shoulder.

"Move!" James tells Peter, he wants to see the diary as well. Peter shakes his no indicating to go the other side of Sirius but James refuse on taking the other side. Kept on trying g to squeeze him and Sirius. Remus had enough of the foolishness and smacks the back of James head for his childish behavior.

"Believe me we were all there thinking the same thing, S" Sirius express, as he sympathizes with the writer of the journal. He truly wonder who this book belong to and why would this person leave it there.

"- I have finally found an empty compartment. Whooo!!! I can be alone for a little bit. Or so I thought I was going to be alone. The door of the compartment opens there stood a tall and scrawny boy, looking kind of nervous to ask if he could sit here."

"They are talking about you, Moony!" James exclaims as he takes hold of the book.

Remus looks at James and says, "They could be talking about anyone. I wasn't the only lanky boy in first year."

" I gesture for him to sit down. He seemed nervous, I could even say anxious. I would to if it wasn't the fact for the conversation I had with one of my uncles. He said That's everything will be fine. Hogwarts is like a second home.

"Hello I'm Asta."

The boy looks up in shock, maybe amazed that I was even speaking to him. He lets out a shaky breath and mumbles out his name "Remus Lupin."

The three boys that were hovering over the book, look directly to their tall friend and yell out "Told you! They were talking about you!"

The scarred boy was curious who did he met that day. He remembers meeting a girl but he really never had once gotten her last name. But what is said in the journal that she only given him a nickname not her full one. Remus felt irritated to see that he couldn't remember what the girl look like. James interrupted his train of thought and shouts, "Our new mission! Is to find who is this mysterious girl."

Pettigrew and Black both holler out agreements, excitement filled their bodies with pure joy. Sirius began shouting everyone up and telling them that the entry wasn't done.

"Remus began talking to me about his favorite book that he has ever read, The Great Gatsby. I told him that I haven't read it before but he would be so kind to lend me it. He gleam with joy and we began talking about other books that we have read. Or even give our opinions about the characters of the book. I have never felt this excited to speak about books with anyone else other than my father.

We were interrupted by the door, three other boys came tumbling into the compartment. A short pudgy looking boy, who from out of the bat seem shy. One of the other boy had curl hair, but his posture stiff. Like he wasn't allowed to relax. I felt sorry for him. The boy on left of the curly hair boy but what can I say... the confidence that he held even at this grand age of eleven. Fill the room, he walked in the compartment head high and plop himself next to Remus. The short one sat next to him, I would admit the look he gave felt like he was praying for someone to speak. The curl hair boy sat himself next to me, he gave a small wave to us all.

The one with the circular glasses spoke " Hi I'm James Potter. What are your names?"

The shy boy in the corner whispers, " Peter."

"Peter What?"

Peter trembles back shock and composure himself. "Pettigrew."

"I'm Remus Lupin and this is Asta." Remus replies as he looks at James, who has a big smile on his face.

James came up and shook both our hands, he whip his head toward the curly hair boy; and gave him a look for him to introduce himself.

"I'm Sirius Black." He whispers, even though it was a whisper; but we could all hear him say his name. He seemed disgusted with the fact that could be his name. Which I could completely understand when you are part of a pureblood family... I turn to him and smile, with that smile alone he felt comfortable maybe because I didn't look at any different.

"That means you are like the rest of your family." James spoke, we all turn to face him in shocked that he utter those words.

Sirius lower his head ashamed, he tried to speak his truth but nothing came out. Remus felt uncomfortable and shocked, while Peter was the window maybe ignoring us or look out the window because of how eerie the compartment felt.

"I find that quite rude of you, James. To assume something from someone you haven't quite met yet." I spoke angerly, how dare he make someone feel this bad.

"Not everyone will follow the footsteps of there parents."

"Ah, yes! Let's not forget the time you were a insufferable twat." Sirius says, chuckling; he could remember how he felt during that interaction with the group and the unknown girl. He kind of felt maybe James was right; maybe he will be exactly as his parents. Miserable and bitter, that is something that terrifies him deeply to be like his parents is a nightmare for him. The boys have to reassure him repeatedly. There are times that his own head is his strongest critic.

James scratches the back of his head, he due recalls himself being a prick to his dear friend. He gives Sirius a nervous smile and gets up from the bed.

James did apologize to Sirius. Thank goodness! There we were laughing and talking about the most ridiculous things we have ever done. I am glad that I wasn't alone on this train ride...

"That's it. Her first entry finishes here." Peter states, while pointing at the dairy.

"Well, , mates May the mission begin to find our mysterious writer." Next Chapter 2

#james potter #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #james potter x reader #chubby reader #sirius black #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #remus x sirius #marauder era #marauders fanfiction #marauders imagine #marauders x reader #peter pettigrew #fanfic #fanfiction

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thenasoneshots · 1 year ago

Text

Sirius Oneshot - It's the Inside that Counts

Requested?: No

Prompt: None

Type of oneshot: Fluff?

Timing: Marauders’ Era (7th Year)

Reader's Relations: Newt’s granddaughter (don’t ask how this works, I just wanted it to be a thing in this oneshot, because he’s best boy and it kind of works)

Reader’s House: Gryffindor

Warnings: Bullying

Other notes: The reader is slightly chubby in this. Also in this, your parents died when you were young, so you live with Newt and Tina.

----------------------------------------

“Really? You honestly thought I’d want to date you when you look like that?” I tried to hold back the tears as my, now, ex-boyfriend kicked me to the curb metaphorically, continuing to say hurtful words, another girl hanging onto his arm, “You’re dumber than I thought. I was just using you because of your family.” And with that, he walked off, the girl following next to him, laughing. I sighed and stood up trying not to let the tears fall as I made my way back up to the common room. When I got up to my dorm, I sat down on my bed and sighed, taking my robe off so I was more comfortable, and laid down on my stomach, finally letting the tears fall.

That was when I started to hear small squeaks and I felt a small weight on my head. I let out a small giggle and lifted my hand, allowing the bowtruckle to step on before I brought my hand to my face, “Hello there. Did you stow away in my robes?” The small green creature looked down refusing to make eye contact and I giggled, “At least you’ve been found, Pickett.” I sighed, placed him down on my pillow and wiped my eyes, trying to stop the tears from flowing as I reached into my bag and pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill. I immediately started writing to my grandfather to let him know that Pickett was safe and hadn’t been stolen/harmed. Once I was done, I folded it up and let Pickett up on my shoulder before leaving the dorm, and heading up to the owlery.

“(Y/n)? Where are you going?”

“Owlery,” I replied in a monotone voice, refusing to look at Jen as I knew how observant she was and that she’d be able to tell I’d been crying from my face if she hadn’t by my tone of voice, “You’ve been crying. You can tell me what’s up, you know that, right?” I nodded, “Thank you, but it doesn’t matter. Now can I continue up to the owlery please?” She narrowed her eyes and let me go causing me to sigh in relief. I really didn’t want her to find out that William had broken up with me as I knew she’d tell the Marauders because of how protective they were of me. They didn’t need to be, it wasn’t like I was related to any of them, they just decided they were going to protect me for some reason. Once I’d sent the letter off to my grandparents, I walked outside and sat down by a tree by the Black Lake as it was just after dinner and curfew wasn’t for a few more hours and the outside air helped me to think better.

—------------------SIRIUS’ POV

“It was hilarious! You should have been there Prongs, his face was priceless.”

“Mate, shh. Is that.. Look it is! Where’s (Y/n) though?”

I looked up from my food to see William walking into the Great Hall, a random Slytherin hanging onto his arm looking as sneaky as ever.

“I swear to Godric if that git broke up with her, I’ll have is head.”

“Pads, calm down we know you like her.”

“Oh shut it, Prongs, you’d be the same if someone had done the same to your precious Lily” I retorted. Before James could reply, I felt a presence next to me and I looked up to see Bella.

“Have you seen (Y/n)?” I asked, curious as to where she was as she and Bella were normally inseparable, but Bella just shook her head, “Sorry, Sirius. I haven’t seen her since Transfiguration ended, but if I see her this evening, I’ll let her know you’re looking for her.”

“Thank you.”

“Wait a minute, I have an idea.”

“Huh? What do you mean, Moony?”

“Just, give me a minute.”

Without another word, he spun around in his seat to face the Hufflepuff table, directly where Jen was sitting, “Jen, have you seen (Y/n)?”

“Hm? Oh yeah, I saw her going up to the owlery before dinner. She looked like she’d been crying but refused to tell me why. If she’s not in her dorm or the common room, then I don’t know. Wait a minute, why didn’t you guys just use that map of yours? Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone about it.”

Moony thanked her and turned around as we all banged our heads on the table, “Why didn’t we think of the map? When we get back up we’re checking that map and finding where she is.”

------------------------YOUR POV

“Alright Pickett, you can sit on my head,” I muttered as the bowtruckle refused to go back in my pocket, “But you’ve got to hide when I go back inside, “Okay?”

Pickett just stuck his tongue out at me and blew a raspberry, “I thought you were taught not to do that. If you’re discovered, then it’ll mean bad news for me. Please, work with me-”

“(Y/n)?”

At the sound of my name, I quickly took Pickett off my head, hiding him behind my back and turned to the person, “Oh, Sirius, hey, what are you doing out here?”

“I wanted to talk, have you been crying?” he asked, reaching out and taking my hand in his, which I didn’t reject, surprising him as every other time he’d tried to make physical contact with me, I’d pushed him away. I sighed and nodded, releasing my grip on Pickett before placing him back on my head and wiping my eyes with my now free hand, “Y-yeah. Promise not to tell anyone else?” Sirius nodded and I took a deep breath, “William broke up with me. Told me he was just using me because of my family and that ‘no one would want to date someone who looked like me’. He then called me fat, along with a load of other hurtful stuff and then walked off,” I spoke, the tears coming back to my eyes again, this time I just let them fall, only stopping when I felt Sirius wiping them, “(Y/n), please don’t cry. I don’t like seeing you cry, it makes me cry when you’re upset and don’t believe anything that jerk says, you’re perfect the way you are.”

“He’s right though, Sirius. No one would want to date me, I am fat-” I was cut off when he placed a finger to my lips, “Do not say that about yourself in my presence. You are not fat, (Y/n). You are perfect, and I know one person who would want to date you.”

“W-who?” I asked, looking up at him. Instead of replying, he took my cheek in his hand and bent down to my level, kissing me, “Me.” I felt my face turn bright red and I blinked, bringing my hand up to my lips once he’d stepped back a little, “Y-you? You’d want to date me?”

“I-if you wanted to date me back, then yeah. I’ve been in love with you since 3rd year, (Y/n). You know how Prongs used to go on and on about Lily before she finally gave in and started dating him?” I nodded and Sirius continued, “Well, Moony told me I was the exact same with you. Apparently, I wouldn’t shut up about you and complain about that git of a boyfriend you had whenever I could. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a nose to go and break.”

I giggled and grabbed his hand before he got too far from me, “I-if you’re serious that you’d want to date me, honestly, I’d be lucky to be the one to have grabbed your attention. I like you too, Sirius.”

That stopped him in his tracks, and he turned back towards me, grabbing my upper arms and kissing me again, “I would be the lucky one, (Y/n). I love you so much.”

“I-I love you too, Sirius. Are you sure I’m not too chubby for you to date?”

He shook his head, “No. You are perfect the way you are, how many times do I have to say it? It’s what’s on the inside that counts, not what you look like. I love you for the way you act and your personality, not what you look like.” At that moment Pickett jumped off my head and onto Sirius’ hand, causing me to smile, “It looks like Pickett approves, please don’t tell any of our professors he’s here. Honestly, he stowed away on my robes, or well, in my clothes in general.”

“I won’t don’t worry, (Y/n). I’d never do anything to get you into trouble.”

“Thank you. I love you, Sirius.”

-----------------------------END OF ONESHOT

Hehe, more Sirius fluff.

#sirius x reader #x reader #female reader #Marauders x reader #Jily mentioned #sirius black #chubby reader

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kabr0ztrousers · 3 months ago

Note

Would love a chubby fem reader who comes across a hurt monster (whatever you feel like writing for) in the woods and helps it. In return the monster drags her back to his den and breeds her. 🫶🫶🫶

Ask, and you shall receive, dear reader!

Kabr0z Writes Episode 27: The Wounded Beast

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: creampie; inflation; mild gore; size difference; enthusiastic consent; pregnancy mention; human X feral (fantasy);

A/N: Sometimes when I write asking you folks to ask for what you want to read, I get requests in return! I'm aiming to write one of these a day for a whole year! If you have an idea, it's pretty likely to get made if you only ask!

#######################################

You've been ranging these woods for years, today you're tracking a poacher. Since the council made this section of forest a monster sanctuary, bandits kept marauding through, trying to nab a few illicit heads to turn in for bounties. This bastard was leaving traps. You know you'll still be finding them for weeks after you get him, even if they do make it comically easy to track his movements.

You hear a clang, then a yelll. You break into a sprint. The your soft body rolling as you barrel through the undergrowth and over roots. People expect a ranger to be swarthy and limber, not be 200 pounds and built to toss cabers. Always surprises them to get blindsided by a woman twice their size. You burst through to where you heard the trap, a small cleared patch. The bandit got there before you, poor fuck. He'd probably expected to get a hobgoblin or a lurker. Caught in the jaws of his trap was a minotaur, a big, ornery alpha male. This beastie is covered in blood, only some of it his. It's gnawing on a femur, torn from the bandit currently strewn around the glade.

A wounded minotaur is the most dangerous beast in these woods. Thankfully you know a few tricks from living out here. You took off your top, baring your big tits before stepping out, bowing low and mooing as best as you can. If it thinks you're a cow it won't attack you, at least until it figures out the ruse. You make it to the trap. It's a simple bear trap, normally used by fur trappers up North. Maybe he was from there? You press down on either side of it, forcing the jaws apart and getting the minotaur's hoof out before allowing it to snap shut again. You knelt and inspected the wound. The big brute was barely hurt. Minotaur skin is tough, and their bones are like iron. A quick strip of cloth to keep the wound clean and you're on your way. Not a moment too soon either, it sounds like he's nearly done with his bone and you don't want to be next on the menu.

You turn to leave. A huge hand closes around your ankle. Your blood runs cold.

The beast hefts you above its head, dangling you upside-down and staring into your eyes. You'd never seen a minotaur so close up. You can feel its hot breath on your face, the smell of blood and rotten meat making bile rise in your throat. With a snort, it tosses you over its shoulder. You shake with his steps, even built as you are, he's carrying you like you weigh nothing at all. Nothing challenges him as he carries you back to his den.

It's quiet. Normally a minotaur bull would have a harem of cows, each kept in a state of permanent pregnancy by his frequent rut. This one must be young, and decided you were convincing enough to take with him. You feel him moving you off his back, yelping as he drops you onto the threshed floor. The grass is warm on your back. He's above you, huffing and grunting as his cock edged out of its sheath, long and thick, a pronounced flare at the tip. From here you can see his balls, as big as apples, churning in anticipation.

When in Rome, as they say.

You reach out to the twitching cock in front of you and start rubbing the shaft. His grunts got faster as soon as you touched it, the lengthening cock in front of you responding. The flare bulges before you, ready to start rutting into you, but you'll need some more prep of you don't want to hurt yourself. You pull off your trousers and rub at your pussy, spreading the wetness around. You start licking his flare, getting as much spit and drool over it as you can. Every bit of lubrication will help, and the thick drops of precum rolling out of him are definitely going to help. You can feel yourself dripping your own juices, the sound of you fingering yourself mingling with his grunts. You're as ready as you'll ever be.

You pull away from his cock and turn around, bracing yourself on the cave wall and presenting your rear to him, you've seen minotaurs rutting before, but never imagined you'd be on the receiving end.

He gripped your waist, taking great handfuls of your supple flesh and lining himself up. You're on your tiptoes, and can tell he's aiming downwards to get at your pussy. You arch your back as he forces the flare in, stretching your cunt around it. You stay there a moment. This must be his first time, he's getting used to you before he fucks you properly. A roll of your hips reminds him what to do as he grips harder and lifts you up. You're pulled upright as he holds you above his cock, moaning as you're lowered down onto it. Your legs twitch as he hits your cervix, skewering you on his cock before lifting you up again. He's picking up speed, lifting and dropping you, using you like a cocksleeve to get off. Your hands aren't idle either. One is groping at your tits and the other rubbing your clit faster and faster, delighting in being filled so thoroughly. He drops you down hard, forcing the air out of you and bringing you to a gasping orgasm. You start squeezing with your pussy, desperate to feel him fill you with his cum. You don't have to work too hard. He grabs your tits as he leans over, keeping you pinned to his belly as his cock spurts straight into your womb. You can feel the huge flare plugging you up as he fills you. Your needy womb fills fast from the sheer volume he pumps into you, starting to bulge and distend as you cum again from the feeling of the hot seed pumping into you, jet after jet.

He keeps you clutched to him. The cock in you isn't deflating yet, still twitching and spurting occasionally, the volume of semen in you causing some to leak out around him. Your legs are dangling uselessly below you, you're held up entirely on his cock. You can feel it start to shift and retract. Pulling gently out until the flare comes out of you with an audible pop. A gush of thick cum and a gasp from you accompany it. He sits and lays your head in his lap, playing with your hair as his cum leaks out of your pussy.

Being a minotaur's wife doesn't seem so bad, on reflection

#####################################

And that's another one in the bag!

Again, if you want me to write anything, anything at all, ask, ask, ask! If you don't ask you might not get, and if you send an anon ask, you can get me to write as many as you like! I won't know it's the same person asking, now will I?

Also, do we prefer fantasy stories or sci fi? I can't guarantee the line won't blur occasionally, but it'll be nice to gauge interest

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abbygracerecs · 2 months ago

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Doctor Who Fic Recommendations

9th Doctor

I love you - @alloftheimagines

Just One Yesterday - @lovelyfictional-imagines

10th Doctor

Oral - @raz-writes-the-thing smut

Tenth Doctor NSFW Alphabet - raz-writes-the-thing smut

The whole time - raz-writes-the-thing

Nothing at all - raz-writes-the-thing

Cocktails and confessions - raz-writes-the-thing

A matchmaker of sorts - @magiccath

Worst nightmare - magiccath

Five times - magiccath

How could you not know? - magiccath

The ring - magiccath

Every word - magiccath

Psychic paper - magiccath

Secrets big and small - magiccath

Tardis Tricks - magiccath

Heart condition headcannons - magiccath

Pretending - magiccath

Say it - @gracesimp smut

I just wanted to - gracesimp

I know - gracesimp

Snap out of it - gracesimp

Chubby!reader - gracesimp

Folie à Deux - @quite-right-too smut

Bitter Taste - quite-right-too smut

Aphrodisiac - @sourszt smut

Desperate to cool off - @tardisblueten smut

Oral Fixation - @buggyboba smut

I love everything you do - @ophelia-writes-fics smut

School Reunion - @starfirette smut

Amazing - @elletheactualmenace requested by me! smut

NSFW Headcannons - @cometeoro smut

A Noble Ship Embarks - @kisstherainwriting

Now that I saw you, I can never look away - @penguinwithitsarseonfire

Danger Magnet - @thepokyone

Deepest Truth - @quietkatie1864

Are you drunk - @iwritefandomimagines

Having the blues - @doctorslove

The way you look at me - @kisstherainwriting

Make a move - @okay-j-hannah

Heartstring - @make-me-imagine

Just like old times - @11thsdoctress

Hear my words - @okay-j-hannah

Dreaming of you - @justsomerandomfanfi

Mistletoe - @coffeeandtveasily

I like like you - @star-girl-05

11th Doctor

Baby Fever - @b0w-ties-are-cool smut

Eleventh Doctor NSFW Alphabet - b0w-ties-are-cool smut

My point is... -11thsdoctress

Is it alright to say what I feel? - 11thsdoctress

You've changed - 11thsdoctress

Happy Tears - @redskull199987

Unplanned Surprise - raz-writes-the-thing

Forgotten Memories - @multific

Storm Clouds - @newbie-whovian

Waiting - @a-dorin

Child of the angels - @dragon430 very excited for this to get updated

The words I don't mean - @arting-block

Deep - @marauder-exe

Little Family - @specialagentlokitty

You make me want things I can't have - @iwritefandomimagines

Touchy - @onceuponachole

Starry nights are for coffee and contemplation - @cloginthedrain

12th Doctor

Heartbeat - @morganas-pendragons I cry everytime I read this

Tender - morganas-pendragons

Decidedly not a design flaw - raz-writes-the-thing smut

Something About These Hands - @not-to-me smut

Inch by inch - @run-clever-boy smut

Light in the Dark - @i-imagine-my-doctor

A Perfect Day - quietkatie1864

In Another's Eyes - @cas-kingdom

13th Doctor

Come on in - @fabulouspotatosister

Autistic!reader - @x-neurodivergent-reader

Hidden Colors - @timelord-winchester-22b

15th Doctor

Sweetest Taste - @allophonicmess smut

#tenth doctor x reader #doctor who smut #doctor who x reader #eleventh doctor x reader #twelfth doctor x reader #fic rec #thirteenth doctor x reader #fifteenth doctor x reader

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unconventional-lawnchair · 3 months ago

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Not Made for Easy

James Potter x BSF!Reader

Summary: Years of loving and yearning unfurl the night before graduation. A dramatic love confession.

WC: 3.4k

CW: Slytherin coded reader, James grabs the reader a few times, semi public confession. No pregame we are jumping straight into the confession

The night air was crisp, carrying the distant croak of frogs and the occasional ripple of the lake where the giant squid lurked beneath moonlit waves. Hogwarts loomed behind you, a castle you had called home for seven years, now little more than stone and memory. Memories that ached, even now, to look back on.

Every moment felt borrowed.

Sirius was laughing- loud and uninhibited- drunkenly sprawled across Remus’s lap as Peter snorted into his drink. The five of you had snuck out one last time, because what were rules to Marauders except suggestions?

You stood beside James, your fingers laced with his, a drink in your other hand. His palm was warm against yours, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your knuckles, as if committing them to memory. As if he hadn't taken the liberty on more then one occasion to trace the subtle skin.

It was cold, the breeze tugging at your sleeves, but before you could pull away, he took your intertwined hands and slipped them into the pocket of his jacket. It pulled a smile from you, as your eyes flickered up to see his expression.

It was so serious. Hardened. As if he was ready for what laid outside the wards waiting for you all.

Even then, his nose was a rosey flush and his ear burned against the summer night’s breeze. James Potter, to you, would never be scary. Not in appearance.

It was his words that scared you.

"You know," James murmured, his voice just loud enough for you to hear, "This night should last forever."

You exhaled, watching the mist of your breath dissipate. "Nothing lasts forever, James."

His grip on your hand tightened inside his pocket. Still, even as you stared at his profile, he didn't turn to look at you. "We could try."

You hated the way your heart twisted at his words. The way, even now, even after all these years, James Potter could make you believe in something as ridiculous as forever.

Because that's what you two had always been. Friends, forever. Fighting, forever. Growing, forever.

Together, forever. As you promised each other when you were too young to fathom what forever could possibly mean. Two chubby small pinkies linking together the way those muggle shows had taught you.

“Remember to be humble.” You looked down and swallowed, tipping your drink to your lips, letting the burn distract you from his silent question. "I know I am not a glorious prize."

James turned to you then, and only then, as sharp as a whip, his brows furrowing. "Please do not say that-”

You shook your head, staring at the water. "I cannot use my heart as collateral, James. I can't do it. I don't want to know a heartbreak like this."

Because who could? Who could see someone so familiar, so safe, and promise something so real? Something so fragile that it's most famous for breaking?

His lips parted, something soft and wounded in his expression. It was your turn to refuse his eyes. "Then I won’t break your heart."

You laughed, but it was hollow. "Every love I have ever known has left me. People grow, James-"

"-hear my side-"

"-people leave. People flourish, and they move on."

"I have tried, trust me-"

You squirmed to take your hand from his. At first, he fought it, his expression twisting as he stammered over himself, desperate to keep you standing infront of him.

Because he knew you'd run. You always did.

Finally you managed to free your hand. You took a deep breath and turned to face him fully, not noticing the boys, who you had your back to now, had fallen quiet. “Everyone around us is picking their lives apart. Everyone around us is doing something foolish- James, tell me- and do not lie because I know you better than that- After tomorrow what will you do?"

James didn’t hesitate. He held up the hand he had been holding yours with. His other hand traced the palm as if confused by the chilling bite. The type of cold that only came when you had warmth. A warmth taken away.

Still, he puffed up his chest like a proper lion. Proud. As he always had been. "I’ll join the Order."

You closed your eyes, because of course he would. Of course he would run toward danger like he was made for it, like he had never once considered a life outside of war. He had never been born outside of war.

What a tragic poet.

"The Order, see?" You scoffed, shaking your head. "I despise your self-sacrifice. And by morning I will call you foolish, and you will call me heartless. And we will have an expiration date as everyone else does-"

James tilted his head, his voice softer now, less of a plea and more of a vow, but still strong enough to cut off your next rant. "Your heart is too big to ignore."

You turned to him, the weight of everything pressing into your ribs. His eyes were flickering between your own. You weren't sure what he was looking for but you were certain he wouldn't find it. Not now. "No, James, yours is. And you project your love onto others and don’t see what’s true-”

"Please," He whispered, a small pathetic sound that almost shattered your resolve.

You swallowed, staring down at his freed hand. You set your drink down on a near by rock and sighed.

"I will be crass. I do not love like your parents do, James, I never learned how-"

"I’ve known that for years." He gave a faint chuckle before you heard him sniff. For the first time in the night you focused on those eyes of his, and saw the gloss that surely was blurring his vision. The boys behind you had fallen silent. No more drunken cackling, no more teasing remarks from Sirius, no more knowing glances from Remus. Even Peter, who always seemed to fill the silences, said nothing.

They knew this conversation had been a long time coming.

James sniffed again, trying to hide it by running a hand through his already-mussed hair, but you saw the way his throat bobbed, how his jaw clenched just a little too tightly.

You could break him right now. With a few words, with a step away, with silence.

But he had always given you his words freely. Had always been relentless with his love, loud and warm and full of foolish, unwavering faith. A faith in who? You didn't know. But whoever it was was cruel.

And tonight, for the first time, you were afraid that faith would finally break him.

"I will destroy you," You strained, the words low, raw, carved out from something deep inside of you. "I will crush your optimism- your joy, James I'll take away what makes you you- II have been doing it for years."

His fingers twitched in his pocket, gripping nothing but the frayed edges of lost warmth. You could tell he wanted to reach for you again.

"James," You whispered, shaking your head, "Just be us again. I'll play my role. You be our hero. Marry for the love you've savored for years-”

James inhaled sharply. His shoulders squared, his expression hardened- not with anger, but with something more devastating.

"I haven't savored a single love that wasn't ours. I couldn't do it.”

You closed your eyes, refusing to meet his. Your head shaking as you looked at his feet.

"I don't want her," He whispered, voice thick with emotion as he stepped closer. Lowering his head to try and catch your eyes. "I love you. I have loved you for years and I will continue loving you because it's all I've ever known how to do.”

It would’ve been easier if he had just admitted to loving Lily Evans. It would have been easier if he had told you that you were nothing more than an old, childhood habit, something warm and familiar but ultimately temporary.

It would hurtless if you weren't in love with a comforting, easy, fool. But none of that was true when it came to loving him.

Instead, he was giving you the truth. The truth you had spent years trying to ignore, trying to smother, because if you acknowledged it- if you let it in- it would consume you. Consume you as it consumed him. Consume you as it consumed everyone around you. And you'd had to admit defeat and drop your weapons.

Admit defeat and admit to everyone that there was no one better than James Fleamont Potter. No one you loved deeper and no one who owned you like he did.

And then in the morning you'd be adults. And no one would be there to shield you from anything that would happen. Because having loved and having lost was torture. But having been loved and losing. That was a hell you could choose to walk away from now.

You forced yourself to swallow past the lump in your throat. Your eyes finally meeting his. "You can't love me, James. I'm just easy."

That was the final blow, and you knew it.

But James didn’t look wounded. He didn’t back away. He just let out a breath, almost a laugh, shaking his head before finally turning to face you completely again.

"Nothing about loving you has been easy," He murmured. "Believe me."

You clenched your jaw, eyes burning, because of course he had to say something like that. Something that felt like the sun cracking through the night. Something that sounded like it promised you tomorrow.

The words hung between you, thick with meaning, heavy with the war waiting for you beyond these castle walls.

James Potter, the boy who had never known how to love quietly, the boy who wore his heart like a banner, who carried his devotion to you like a sacred, unbreakable promise- looked at you now like you were something worth fighting for. Worth every battle he had already lost.

And you knew, terrifyingly, every battle he'd lose from today.

But it was just you, the girl who had spent years pretending, who had convinced herself that her heart was not something she could afford to risk, was now standing at the edge of something terrifyingly real.

"Then why?" You pushed, voice barely above a whisper. “Why can we not have easy?”

James exhaled sharply, his fingers twitching at his sides like he was restraining himself from reaching for you again.

"We weren’t made for easy."

It was a truth. A quiet, devastating truth.

You closed your eyes, willing your heart to be as stubborn as your mind, but the ache in your chest was too much, too loud, too impossible to ignore.

You told him now. Told him with the silence, with the way your body leaned away even though your heart wanted to collapse against him.

And then you turned. Walked away. Because that was what you had always done, wasn’t it? Left before you could be left. Hurt before you could be hurt.

But James, he wouldn't. No it wasn't something he could do. He had never- and never would- let you go so easily.

You heard him curse under his breath before his footsteps followed yours, his voice raw and unrelenting.

"You always do this!" He called after you.

You didn’t stop.

“You run, you always bloody run!"

You kept walking.

"And I have let you! I have let you run because I thought- I thought if I chased you, if I gave you another reason to hate me, you'd bolt and never come back!"

You clenched your fists. The lump in your throat burned.

"But you do come back," James continued, voice thick with something between anger and desperation. “Every time. You come back, and I wait, and I pretend that maybe this time, maybe this time will be different."

You inhaled sharply.

"But not this time," He sighed, breathless, relentless.

You had reached the edge of the lake now, the moon's reflection rippling in the water. The only sound was the wind through the trees and the distant voices of your friends who had let James take his stand.

You turned on your heel, facing him. "What do you want from me, James?"

He stopped in front of you, chest rising and falling too fast, too frantic. His hair was messier than before, his glasses slipping down his nose, his hands shaking where he clenched them at his sides.

"I want you."

You shook your head. “No-”

"I want you, and I don’t care if it isn't easy, if it’s a fight, if you keep convincing yourself this isn’t real. Because I know it is. I know you know it is. I may only be as clever as the textbooks I’ve read, but there are things you don’t learn in textbooks- things you only learn in the quiet, in the stolen hours of the night. You learn them sneaking out, running through the dark, standing shoulder to shoulder with someone who has always been there. Someone who looks at you, and you realise, everything makes sense."

"James-”

"But only when she's right there," He cut in, his voice raw with something unshakable, something real. "Only when she's calling me a git more than my actual name. Only when she's spent her entire childhood making me a better man, whether I deserved it or not."

He shook his head, stepping forward, forcing you to look at him, to see him.

"And I let her," He continued, his voice quieter now but no less certain. "Because I am a git. Because I convinced myself that what I had with you wasn’t what I’d spent the last five years searching for. Because I thought I could look at someone else and not feel the absence of you like a missing limb. But I can’t. Because a love like this- you- can’t be traded. And a woman like you wouldn’t have wasted a single day on me if you didn’t see something you wanted."

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. "I didn't want anything, James-”

"Merlin, you want me!” He burst out, his voice cracking between desperation and something dangerously close to hope.

His lips twitched, just slightly, and for a moment, he almost looked like the boy you’d grown up with- cocky and golden, but stripped bare in front of you now.

"You wanted me," He corrected, his voice dipping into something softer, something terrified.

And then, barely a whisper-

"Please. Just- please say you still do. That I didn’t wait too long. That I didn’t ruin this before it ever had a chance to be ours."

You were crying as you walked past him, but this time, James didn’t let you.

His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and spinning you around so fast that you barely had time to catch your breath before he was speaking.

"No,” He hissed, voice raw, furious. desperate, "You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to tell me that I should pick someone safer, someone easier, someone who won’t love me the way you do, and expect me to accept it.”

Your breath hitched, but James wasn’t finished. He wasn’t even close.

"You think I don’t know?" He demanded, eyes burning into yours. "You think I haven’t spent years watching you rip yourself apart, thinking you’re too much, too cruel, too difficult to love?"

Your throat tightened. "James-”

He ignored you. "Every single thing I’ve done to be better- it’s because of you. Every time I tried to grow, every time I tried to be someone worthy of this- worthy of you- it was because I saw the way you looked at yourself, and I couldn’t stand it."

"You don’t know what you’re talking about," you rasped, trying to pull away. But James didn’t let go.

"You think I was brave before you?" He continued, shaking his head. "I wasn’t. I was reckless. I was arrogant. I thought I was untouchable, invincible, all because I didn’t know what it meant to be afraid of losing something. And then I truly met you."

Your lip trembled.

"You made me brave," James said, softer now, voice breaking. "You made me brave."

"You were always brave," You whispered.

"No." He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I was foolish. I was cocky. I was arrogant and untouchable- You made me brave.”

You closed your eyes, trying to block him out, but his grip on you only tightened.

"I'm cruel," you whispered, barely able to get the words out.

James inhaled sharply, his free hand trembling as he cupped your jaw, forcing you to look at him, to see him when all you wanted was to be seen. He wanted to be your ‘alone’- you'd always been his.

"You watched the worst in me," he murmured. "You saw the worst parts of me- the bastard, the bully, the monster. And you never walked away from him."

Your lip trembled. "James-"

"You stayed," he said again, voice raw, thick with something unbreakable. "When everyone else would have left, when I would have deserved to be left, you stayed."

"I would always stay," you admitted, breathless.

“No you haven't.” James exhaled, his forehead pressing against yours as he whispered, "You're always running- from yourself. From us. Just don't let it be from me.”

Your breath shuddered as James’s words settled into the space between you, as heavy as the night sky pressing down over the lake.

You were always running. Running from yourself, from what you felt, from what you knew.

But you didn’t want to run from him.

Not now.

Not ever.

Your lips parted, and the confession came so quietly, so broken, you weren’t even sure you had said it aloud.

"I’m scared."

James’s grip on you loosened just slightly- not to let you go, never to let you go- but to hold you better. His thumb brushed over the pulse at your wrist, steady, grounding.

"When have you ever needed to be scared while I’m here?" He whispered.

His forehead was still pressed to yours, his breath warm against your skin, and suddenly, the world felt smaller, quieter, safer.

You swallowed, tilting your head just slightly, your nose brushing his. You felt the moment he realized what you were going to do, the way his breath caught, the way his fingers twitched like he was holding himself back- because he would never, never take something from you that you weren’t willing to give.

So, you gave.

You lifted onto your toes, closing the space between you, your lips brushing against his in the softest, most tentative kiss you had ever known.

James inhaled sharply, like you had just knocked the wind from his lungs, like he had waited his entire life for this, and he had.

He kissed you like a promise.

Like devotion.

Like forever.

His free hand moved to cradle your face, and for the first time, James Potter wasn’t chasing. He wasn’t reaching for something just out of grasp.

He had you.

And this time- this time- you weren’t running.

Because Hogwarts could be your forever. This moment, right now, by the lake with your friends. That was the forever you wanted to remember.

Whatever came next, whatever happened when you stepped out of the castle walls tomorrow, it would be okay.

Because you'd spend the rest of forever loving James Potter.

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #james potter #james potter fic #james potter oneshot #james x you #james potter x bsf!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you

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ginevrapng · 2 years ago

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𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐄

pairing: fwb!james x reader

word count: 1.9k words

warnings and contents: 18+ contains some sexual content, teasing, touching over clothes, semi-public, james being super desperate to kiss you (and desperate for you in general), some cockblocking, 'love' being used as a nickname ||| chubby-coded reader

james shares the same class as you, history of magic, and sits next to you. no other marauders are in the class and there's barely any gryffindor's in general in the class so james always makes sure you and him sit together at the back where no one notices either one of you. he sits at the back away from everyone else, he doesn't interrupt the lessons or talk loudly with his friends, he's got something better to do, so people forget he's even taking the class, he doesn't get noticed. paired up with, you, already being, as james teases you about 'a nobody' no one ever pays attention to you both and how you always sit next to each other. he knows calling you a nobody doesn't bother you but it does make you pinch him in the arm in retaliation.

james takes this opportunity to try and talk to you as much as he can without you telling him to be quiet and shut up. binns drones on but james talks way to energetic for your liking in class that you worry that you'll get in trouble. even if you do want to spend your hour giving james your undivided attention, quietly chatting to him.

this particular lesson felt more lengthy and drawn out than normal for him and after class he's planning on setting up some elaborate prank in filch's office that if he told you about you'd absolutely scold him for, saying that it's too risky to do a prank like that in the middle of the day.

james looks around the room to check if anyone is looking his way and no one is. you slightly jump in your chair as you feel a hand placed on your knee. james is resting his hand on your knee and it's not scandalous at the moment but you never know what scheme james has going on in his head. you shift your head slightly and hiss at him, "what do you think you're doing potter!" james keeps looking where he was and looks like he's paying little attention to where his hand is before shushing you. "don't shush me potter, what are you doing? unlike you i'm actually paying attention in class!"

james grins at that knowing you well enough by now, you're such a liar. "hush love. i'm not doing anything." he's lying, you know he's lying, you know him well enough by now. you know that he's teasing you and if he keeps pretending he doesn't know what he's doing to you you're going to get frustrated just like he wants you to do because he thinks you look cute when you're mad and you can't let him win.

you suck your breath in when you feel his large callus palms start to gently stroke your knee, making you shiver in the process. you go to reiterate that he needs to stop because you're in class and you're interested in this class before james stops you by speaking first. "you're such a little liar love, we both know you're paying zero attention to binns. i don't blame you, it's binns. you can't use the whole good girl act who pays attention in every single class on me. i know how much you hate history of magic." he says entirely to smug and impressed with himself.

you grit your teeth regretting every decision that led you to sitting next to james bloody potter. "we've got exams soon," you muttered. at that james chuckled but quickly hid it behind an acted cough. you looked up at him and glared. james looks back and grins, annoying you more than you were.

he slowly moves his hand up your thigh causing your eyes to widen and you to immediately grab his wrist. "james!" you whisper shout at him, right after being said you were worried that you weren't quiet enough and someone might have heard you.

james' eyes soften as he looks at your panicked state and wide eyes, he doesn't move his hand but softly squeezes your plush thigh. "come on love. you trust me, right?" he doesn't push you, he thought before that you like it but are just a bit nervous but at this point james is second guessing his actions. he doesn't know if his heart would handle it if you said you didn't trust him or even worse if he's wrong and he's put you in a situation that you're entirely uncomfortable in.

you're not uncomfortable just wary but with james' words you breath and calm your worry. you have complete faith in him and you know that he'll never put you in a bad situation.

you slowly remove your hand from his wrist and james visibly relaxes before stroking your thigh up and down, barely applying any pressure, almost tickling you but definitely teasing you.

the longer james touches you the more relaxed you get in his hold knowing that you're not going to be caught and he's touching you in ways that bring you comfort, he always makes you feel safe. you realise at some point the idiot is tracing not patterns anymore on your skin but his own name. you distinctly feel the 'J A M E S' traced against your body. his hand gets higher up and you flush at the action. you shoot him a look of warning but he mouths to you, 'trust me love'.

your back straightens as you feel the pads of his fingertips brush up against your underwear. that's all he does, move his hand slowly against you, occasionally grabbing chunks of your thigh and putting extra pressure when he's touching your still covered pussy. he's obviously having fun teasing you and messing with you. he's going to get a book to the back of his head later if this carries on.

james' trousers soon become tight as his dick hardens more every time he grabs hold of your thick thigh and touches your knickers that are now wet from the attention james is giving you. his breath hitches as he feels your soaked underwear knowing that he's the cause of it. he checks the room again to make sure no one is suspecting anything or looking your way and with his other hand he reaches down and palms himself over his trousers.

his eyes dart all over you, taking in the feeling of your soaked underwear and your soft thighs. he see's you biting your lip so hard it's a surprise you're not drawing blood to keep from whimpering. you're trying to look composed but your face is mildly scrunched up because of the light teasing touching and all the stimulation. you look like a goddess. he nearly whimpers while looking at you.

you notice the movement when james starts touching himself and get wetter knowing this is affecting james as much as it's affecting you. you look at him and give him an all knowing smirk and james see's this and wishes so bad that he could kiss you right now that it physically pains him that he can't. you smirk and stifle a giggle as you look down letting him know that you've seen that he's hard. "not m'fault, it's yours. you're really hot," he tells you unashamedly. you press your lips together in a thin line as to not smile too much but james see's right through you. he wants to kiss you again, one where he bites your lip that makes you melt, a kiss that's hungry and passionate.

he wants to kiss you every time you smile, or try to hide a smile; or grin, or smirk, or pout, or get angry, or cross your arms, or laugh at his jokes. he wants to kiss you when he see's you in the great hall, when you furrow your eyebrows when reading something you don't understand in class, when you roll your eyes at him, when you're bantering and making playful remarks to each other. he wants to kiss you every time he see's you, he wants to kiss you when he can't see you. he thinks he must be addicted to your lips because no one has ever made fireworks go off around him and his body tingle with just a kiss.

he wants to brush his knuckles against your cheek and kiss you so hard that he wants to never let you go. he wants to take your hair that's fallen out of place and place it behind your ear while calling you beautiful. he looks at you longingly, wanting you so bad yet knowing that he's in class and he can't touch you the way he wants to.

"you're so fuckin' beautiful, love," he comes close to you and breathes into your ear. james is still touching you and you grip your quill causing your hand to become lighter due to the tight grip you have in hopes that it'll keep you grounded so you don't make any noises that people will hear.

the bell rings and he's still daydreaming about all the things he wants to do with you. as it rings you see everyone start putting their things away and james still hasn't stopped, clearly in his own world. you clasp his wrist and pull it away from your body, "james!" you say as loud as your anxiety of being caught lets you.

james snaps out of his daydreaming and looks to you and grins automatically at you, you give him a small soft smile in return. nodding your head over to the other students who are starting to sling their bags over their shoulders, "the bell james."

james coughs and clears his throat, trying to ignore the thoughts of you in his head and subtly making sure his robes cover his dick. "yeah, yeah. cool."

"james, what'cha you doing now? classes are over for the day and well... y'know, i'm kinda... do you wanna-"

"oi! james!" you both turn you head to the door to see the marauders outside in the corridor.

james has never been more pissed off at sirius than he is right now, wanting nothing more than to whisk you away from everyone else and keep you to himself for the next hour or two.

he knows at this time you typically go back to your common room and read alone in front of the fire now that it's getting colder out and james knows he could warm you up and keep you company while you complain to him about how annoying he was being but he can't. he's got a date planned with filch.

he squeezes your hand other the table and shoves his textbook in his bag before walking out, leaving you standing there alone. when all the marauders turn away to start walking you see james quickly swivel round and mouth out to you 'sorry'. you nod at him and force a smile. disappointed with not being able to spend more time with james you too grab your stuff and head out of the classroom.

"who's that girl prongs? looks like y'know her." sirius asks him curiously, not ever seeing the girl before in all his time at hogwarts.

"nobody." james replies. he already misses you.

1K notes · View notes

ijustbewriting · 2 months ago

Text

Birthday Gift

Remus Lupin X Reader

Word count : 1.6k

A/N - Thank you guys for so much love on my first Wolfstar imagine! Please feel free to give me some request :) Hope you guys enjoy. Not proofread!

Remus was celebrating his 18th birthday, of course his friends had to make a big deal out of it. They threw a big party and with plenty of ridiculous decorations and alcohol The party was massive.

When the party started they all gave them his birthday gifts. Books, jumpers, vinyls. Y/n had watched as the boy had opened his gifts with a big smile. She had a gift of her own but wanted to give it to him without a crowd. That seemed to be a hard task at the moment. The part was full swing, people drinking and dancing, the music loud and the room hot. It being his 18th birthday of course Remus indulged in a few drinks and was tipsy. And by some miracle after looking for what felt like forever you found him. Asking him to smoke a cigarette with you, you two headed somewhere off near a hallway with a window. Remus lit the cigarette you had given him and you watched as he lit it up leaning against the wall. You had the present behind your hands, you shifted your feet side to side, Remus ever the observant noticed. He looked at you as he took a drag of his cigarette.

“What are you hiding ?” “ You’re my best friend” You state to which he raises his eyebrow and chuckles. Best friend? sure .

“ and you are mine, so what’s with all the secrecy hm? I thought best friends weren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other?”

“It's my love letter confessing my feelings for you obviously” you say in mock seriousness.

Remus raises his eyebrow

“A love letter?” he deadpanned

“ well let’s see it the, all your love and lustful thoughts about me”

“Oh it's very kinky so watch out”

“Oh i'm quaking in fear right now” he replied sarcastically

“C’mon om sure the kinky descriptions can’t be too much for me to handle. I am mature “

“ but I’m also like very horny” you reply, he lets out a snort

“Ah yes of course you are’’ he replies taking another drag of his cigarette

“Ovulation is a crazy thing”

“I'm sure it is” He responds amused but he feels his cheeks warm up and he’s not sure if it's the firewhiskey in his system or this whole conversation. After a moment of silence Remus looks at Y/N with a raised eyebrow

“Are you going to hand it over or am I gonna have to wait?”

“Did I mention it was very detailed ?”

“You did “ He replies

“ and now I’m even more curious as to how detailed this very detailed letter is”

“Alright here” you reply, handing the letter to him, he happily grabs the letter with a smirk on his face, putting out the cigarette.

“Watch me take it like a champ” he says before opening the letter and begins to read the letter. The letter did not in fact have Y/Ns fanfiction of her and Remus or anything remotely kinky or sexual, instead the contents within were filled with heartfelt words and genuine emotions.

Remus grinned as he finished the letter

No lustful words, he didn’t know why but he much preferred this over what could have been Y/Ns perverted thoughts of him.

After another moment of reading Remus looked back up for the better a smile on his face/

“You are such an odd person Y/N” he said fondly

“Thank you, I try “ you say in a joking matter

“ Oh trust me you don’t need to try, it comes to you naturally “ he quipped

“But seriously, this letter” he shakes his head

“Really though, its lovely, really thank you Y/N”

‘yeah of course “ you hum “That's not all, I have something else for you”

“ A second thing? You’re really spoiling me for my birthday huh?” he teases as you hand him his second gift. He takes is a curious expression in his face

“Can I get a hint?’ he asks

“ Well a couple of months ago you told me about this rare book that was only printed a hundred times”

His eyes widened a bit

“You got me -” his voice excited now

“You actually got me one?” he finished, there was no way. The book was impossible to get, it was ridiculously rare and ridiculously expensive. He unwraps the gift slowly

“Oh merlin” he breathes out

“How did you get this-how did you even manage to do this ?” he asks looking up at her

“Pulled some string and I got in contact with an old librarian and well” You shrug “there it is”

Remus looked at the book with awe

“This is-” he ran his fingers across the cover

“This is amazing, thank you Y/N”

“Yeah of course” you give him a smile. He looked at you, expression softening

“ You didn’t have to do this you know, buying the book was probably hell and super expensive and here I am with a heartfelt letter and rare book”

“ I know you would have loved my sexy letter instead but I held back and gave you the book instead “ you sighed as if you were actually disappointed. He huffed out a laughed

“Yes thank you, i'm sure it's for the best you held back in your sexiness I don’t think my heart could handle it”

“I know, I know- but I hope you enjoy your book”

“Enjoy is a slight understatement, I’m never letting this go’’ he smiles softly

“Seriously , thank you again. It's too much really but I appreciate it all immensely. You really are something” He paused for a second, studying your face.

“Come here” he said after a moment , opening his arms for a hug, you of course go in for a hug. He wraps his arms around Y/N hugging him close to her chest. He buried his face on her neck and inhaled deeply, taking in her familiar and comforting scent. They stayed like that for a moment. Remus holding on to her and not really wanting to let go. She had given him the best presents anyone could ever give him.

“You’ve outdone yourself, you know that?”

“You think so?”

“ I know so, I mean a heartfelt letter and one of the rarest book in history, that’s a win” Remus pulls back a bit to look at her face

“Honestly though, I don’t understand how you could even think to go such lengths for me”

“It's easy when it's you “

He felt his face warm up but covered it with a laugh.

“Easy? Easy?” he repeats his eyebrows raised

“Do you even have any idea how much that present is worth to me? In money, that is. And you call it ‘easy’?”

“ I don’t think much about it when it comes to you” you reply and he feels his face getting warmer

“What in the hell am I going to give you in return? Nothing can top this, I doubt I can top this”

“ you don’t have to, just enjoy it please” you reply almost pleadingly, he shakes his head.

“No, No, I'm not just accepting it without giving anything in return, not fair. I will repay you somehow”He pauses for a moment.

“ I need to give you something” He insisted, his voice earnest.

“Anything, please”

“What would you even give me ?” you huff out a laugh, he huffed out a laugh himself trying to find an answer to your question. He had no idea, there was nothing that could compare to the gift that you had given him.He was silent for a beat before an idea popped in his mind.

“Come here” Remus grabbed you, hoisting you up and had you sit down on the edge of the window trapping you in place.You gave out a small squeak of surprise as you were suddenly lifted up and sat on the ledge. He stood between your legs , trapping you.

“There is one thing I can give you” he mused, his voice low. His eyes flickered down your lips before looking back into your eyes.

“It's a gift you…” He leaned closer to you, his body almost pressed up against you, he continued

“...you would enjoy”

“Remus-”

“Shh…” He hushed you, his hand now on your face caressing your cheek.

“You have given me, to put it bluntly, the two best presents I have ever received. Can you really blame me for wanting to return the favor?” He ran his thumb against your bottom lip.

“let me give you this” his voice just above a whisper

“Okay” you whisper back. He leans further into you, his face inches away from yours. “Okay” he repeats, his voice barely a breath.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course” you reply instantly and with no hesitation.

“Good”

And with that, Remus presses his lips to yours. The kiss is firm, almost possessive, filled with hunger he didn’t know he had. His hand moves to grip the back of your head, keeping you close and not letting you escape. He deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours , demanding entrance into your mouth. You respond by parting your mouth for him, he takes no time and slips his tongue into your mouth exploring and claiming it as his own. He kisses you as if he was starving and you were the only thing that could satiate him, his hands explored your body, his touch electric and leaving goosebumps in their wake. His teeth nicked your bottom lip and a small gasp escapes you and he lets his tongue explore yours again. He groaned softly as he pulled away.

After catching your breath you speak

“I think that was a perfect way to pay me back”, He laughs still a bit out of breath.

“I’m not done paying you back”

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chubbyreaderwriter · 1 year ago

Note

I’m not sure you do requests, but if so could you please do - Where Sirius and Remus are your parents and hear someone making fun of you at grimmauld place - obviously you don’t have too, love your imagines btw

This is adorable!

In Trouble

Parent! Remus x Chubby/Plus Size Reader x Parent! Sirius

Imagine: Your parents overhear Ron being a little too honest with you and decide to take the situation into their own hands.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: bullying?

Masterlist

You weren’t sure exactly when this little feud started with Ron, but it had slowly progressed over time. It wasn’t quite strong enough for you to say you despised each other, the two of you could feign civilness in front of your shared friends and the adults of The Order. The first couple days at Grimmauld Place were miserable for you, without Harry to keep him occupied Ron had took it upon himself to wreak havoc on your belongings. It was your luck that the red haired boy had never had the best knack for charms and all your cursed, flying books were quickly ceased from their attempts to collide against your head. Hermione had tried reasoning with him but there was little effort in her recent attempts, given how you stopped down to his level and retaliated by turning his skin blue. Of course, you had successfully convinced Hermione that it was the twins who had put you up to such a prank, further planting the seed into her head that you were just an innocent bystander in the whole thing.

You hadn’t told your parents of what was happening between you and Ron, not knowing how they would react. Even in the wizarding world, they would not be considered normal parents. You knew all about their notorious past at Hogwarts and the Marauder’s Map. While you didn’t like a single thing about Ron, you didn’t particularly feel like watching him be crucified in front of your eyes should your fathers be revealed the truth of your sudden mood swings. Thankfully, Harry’s presence along with the return of the missing Aurors of the Order had distracted you both to put your squabbling at ease for the time being, focusing on your mutual friend. All had gone smoothly for the first night, but on the second evening, you had told Hermione to head to dinner without you, promising you would be following her shortly. You had finished brushing your hair and headed down one of the many long, narrow corridors to get to the dining room where everyone was waiting.

A small creak of the floorboards behind you prompted you to turn around and your eyes instinctively rolled at the familiar sight of red hair and blue eyes. You folded your arms over your chest and scowled at him, “Following girls around now? Should’ve known you were a creep.” Ron’s fists clenched at his sides and his face already turning a bright shade of red, causing a smirk to appear on your own. The taller boy stepped closer, glaring down at you, “As if I’d be following a pig like you anywhere, maybe you should go back to your room so there’ll be food left for the rest of us.” Ron had made little comments about your weight before, it was all his intelligence could come up with to insult you about. You weren’t bothered by his opinion of you, especially when you knew he was wrong. You scoffed and held your arms by your sides, not backing down from him, “You’re one to talk, shovelling shit down your throat for everyone to see. Go learn what basic manners are, if that’s not too difficult for you to understand.”

Your eyes glanced up at a very prominent vein poking out of Ron’s forehead and it took a small amount of effort not to laugh at how obviously worked up he was. He opened his mouth but before another word could come out of it, a hand clasped you both on the shoulder and your attentions were turned to your fathers standing to the left of you both. Remus put his arm around your shoulder, “Come come pup, we’re all waiting for you two, people will get the wrong idea.” Your face heated up in rage and disgust at the mere thought of anyone thinking you would even consider the possibility of doing anything with that horrid boy. Remus chuckled at your expression, “I’m only joking, we’re all well aware of how much you hate each other, but unfortunately, you can’t go about hexing people just because you don’t like them in the real world.” You frowned, “Why ever not?” Your father shook his head as he sat you down at the table next to him.

Sirius’ hand firmly gripped Ron’s shoulder to the point of being painful, causing the boy to wince from the pressure on his shoulder. Unbeknownst to the both of you, they had heard everything between the two of you and it had taken most of Remus’ strength to hold back Sirius when he heard Ron talking about your weight. Sirius smiled at Ron but it disappeared once you were out of sight, pushing the boy against the wall, taking his wand out and pointing it towards the cowering child in front of him, “If you even dare to think about talking to my dear little pup like that again, I’ll make you wish you were never born. Do you understand?” Ron whimpered as Sirius gently patted his cheek and ruffled his hair, putting his wand away in his cloak, “Atta boy, now hurry before your mother worries. I’d hate to have to tell her how you’ve been treating girls.” The fear of both Sirius and his mother was enough to make Ron dash into the safety of the dining room, his tail between his legs, and quickly sit next to Hermione and Ginny. He didn’t dare to look in your direction for the entirety of the week and you were more than grateful but you knew that something had happened outside of your knowledge.

Cut to a few hours later and it was nearing midnight, you had yet to hear another peep from the ginger boy despite there being a few instances he could have jabbed a quick insult in here and there. But no, he just kept his head down and didn’t seem to be able to look you in the eye, not even speaking to you at all. Don’t get me wrong, you were delighted with the change but you were curious to find out what brought it on. Your eyes looked over at your parents and the way Sirius was glaring at Ron told you everything you needed to know. You smiled to yourself and walked over to them, they were stood in the kitchen helping Molly clean up after dinner.

You wrapped your arms around Remus in a hug, “Night dad, night pops.” Remus didn’t hesitate returning your hug and let you go after a few moments to let you hug your other adoptive father. You hugged Sirius close and mumbled in his ear, “You didn’t have to tell him off you know, I had it handled.” Sirius chuckled and stroked the top of your head with his hand, looking down at you with a fond smile, “Oh I know you did dear, but I couldn’t help it, i have to keep my pup safe and happy at all times.” You smiled to yourself and gave Sirius another quick hug before heading upstairs to bed for the night. Once under the sheets you snuggled up to a black wolf teddy that your parents had gotten for you when you were little. You held it close to your chest as you drifted off to sleep, comforted by the fact you had the best parents you could ever wish for.

#chubby reader #plus size reader #x plus size reader #x chubby reader #harry potter x plus size reader #sirius black x chubby reader #remus lupin #remus x sirius #Remus Lupin x chubby reader

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ruzz9 · 11 hours ago

Note

Holi 🥺👉👈 quería preguntarte si hacer recs de fics? Si es así.. hay alguna posibilidad de pedirte uno que tenga un reader con las mismas características del último que subiste pero siendo alguien ftm (pre op, pre t, chubby) con pronombres masculinos? De ser así, lo agradecería un montón 🥹 gracias por leer ,me encantó!❤️ Claramente puede ser en inglés porque te salió muy bueno!

Recognize Me

NSFW+18

Severus Snape x FTM!Reader

Summary: Your presence unsettles him, tenses him, pulls him toward you in ways he can’t explain. And though he tries to repress it, his desire to recognize you, to read you with his hands, under your new identity, it corrodes him.

A/N: lo siento! Una cosa llevó a la otra y esto fue el resultado... Aún así espero realmente que te guste. I can feel the red flags surrounding me.

Warnings/Content: Smut, Gender Identity Themes (FTM trans character. pre-op, pre-hrt), Dubious Consent, Loss of Virginity, First-Time, Rough.

2k word

You found yourself trapped against the shelf. The dense air of the office, the aligned vials, the dust that didn’t dare settle on his books. You had barged in unannounced, like so many times in the past, when you were still his troublesome, defiant, brilliant student. When your eyes never avoided his, even if the punishments burned.

But now everything was different.

Your body was different—not entirely new, but transformed enough that Snape no longer knew how to look at you. You wore a suit, firm bandages across your chest, your voice more controlled, and yet, he recognized you. Not in the flesh, but in that same obstinacy with which you kept inserting yourself between his order and his control.

And it unsettled him.

You had been offered a new teaching post. You accepted without fear, with that same pride that always exasperated Snape. But he wasn’t about to let your old insolence slide just because you now had a title and a different identity. There would be no more grades to offset your character. You were no longer his student. And for that, you were even more dangerous.

What he didn’t say—what he couldn’t name—was the unease you stirred in him. The new, brutal need to read you with his hands. To find out if you were still that creature lodged in his memory, now wrapped in something darker, firmer, closer to a desire he didn’t know how to handle.

Snape wanted to fully understand who you had become.

And in that instant, with his body pressing you against the wood, with your breath caught in your throat from the tension, you knew this was no longer a punishment. It was something else.

His hand closes around the base of your neck—not with violence, but with a firmness that freezes you. Your breath halts, and you make no move to free yourself. Not this time. You know him too well. You know that if he hasn’t pushed you away yet, it’s because he’s about to do the opposite.

“You always thought the rules were optional for you,” he murmurs against your ear, with that voice that had silenced you so many times in class. “That your grades earned you indulgences.”

His breath brushes your skin. Your lips part, but not for words. There’s a live current rising from your belly, hot, confused, wet in more than one way. His hand lowers, and you can’t help the shiver when he undoes your buttons with that meticulous roughness only a potioneer could have.

“Look at you now…” he says in a lower tone. “You’re different. Heavier. More masculine, yes. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re melting under my touch.”

Your breath turns ragged. That slight tremor in your body betrays your nerves. You’re soaked in desire and self-hate for wanting like this. Because he sees you. Because you let him. And because something in that surrender makes you feel strangely like yourself.

You stay still while he unfastens your trousers with a dry, impatient gesture. There’s no ceremony, no need for permission. He lets them fall halfway down, sliding the fabric just enough to leave your sex exposed to the air of the office—warm, closed, vulnerable. Your wet flesh throbs with shame, with hunger. You feel every fold, every inch of stirred skin, something you hadn’t planned for that night.

Your cheeks burn. The suit clings tighter than it should. Sweat drenches your back. You can’t help but think of how your belly is outlined beneath the shirt, how the buttons pull slightly from the pressure of your chest, from the bandage that had already loosened at the edges, the result of his body’s friction—and he notices, for a second, as if calculating how to remove it without breaking the moment. But he doesn’t. He leaves you wrapped, half-covered, half-revealed. A new body that still unsettles him, and yet calls to him. You feel exposed, imperfect, too much. And he sees it all.

His fingers find you between your legs, with clinical firmness. He parts you roughly. Not tenderly, but his precision is undeniable. He enters you with two fingers at once. Your back tenses against the wood. A sudden burn consumes you, a stifled moan escapes your lips, and he notices.

“It hurts,” you says, and he doesn’t sound concerned. He sounds intrigued.

And yet, he starts to move. Slowly. He explores your insides with controlled, agile motions, while his other hand rests firmly over your abdomen, as if afraid you might flee. But you don’t. You can’t. You won’t. Your fingers clutch the edge of the shelf.

“You were always unbearable. Impossible to silence. Until I made you write lines for hours in silence.”

His thumb moves upward, finds you, and presses with a calculated cadence. Maintaining a steady rhythm between your two erogenous points, with that gift of his for exact proportions, he presses, strokes, brings you closer and closer to your surrender with demand.

And you, between gasps, allow it.

Pleasure hits you violently. You arch, trapped between his fingers, trembling with a surge that slices through you, as if your body wanted to scream everything your mouth holds back. You moan his name, in a voice so low even you barely hear it.

He doesn’t mock you. He doesn’t soothe you. He just holds you there, soaked, wrecked, pulsing against his hand, while his gaze devours you with a stillness that chills.

Snape withdraws from your body with deliberate patience, not yet noticing the red smear that stains his fingers, warm and wet. In a commanding motion, he spins you against the shelf with measured violence, gripping you by the hips, with a force that doesn’t seek your consent—only your stillness. He holds you like he wants to leave marks, explores your skin, your thick thighs, like your generous flesh was a territory he could mold with the pressure of his fingers.

With impatience, he adjusts you with dry, efficient movements. Forces your legs apart, bent just enough, your forehead nearly touching the wood. The clothes still hanging from you crumple, the shirt open, the trousers now barely clinging to one ankle.

You feel his glans press in, hard, hot, seeking the entrance. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t prepare you.

A sharp sting pierces your lower belly. A clean, dry pain. You moan involuntarily. Bite your arm to keep it down. Something inside you was already torn—not a metaphor, something physical, the evidence of your inexperience.

Snape pauses just for a second. He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t name you. But he knows.

And then, he stops.

He simply stopped moving. The texture of your body, the warm, excessively tight density surrounding him, alerted him. He said nothing. But his breathing changed.

You felt trapped in that moment: the shame, the tension, the trembling. His cock still inside you, still, pulsing. Your walls still throbbing, tight and tender, inflamed. And the heat between your legs unlike anything you’ve ever known.

You felt him shift slightly, just enough to pull his hips back. The emptiness was immediate. Your body trembled as it let him go, like something broken had come loose. Snape lowered a hand, checked, examined his fingers and his cock, now smeared with blood.

The silence that followed wasn’t compassionate.

“You’re bleeding,” he said, without any emotion. It wasn’t a question.

You didn’t answer.

“Was it your first time?” His voice was lower, with a different texture. “Why didn’t you say so?” he continued, as if what he’d just discovered weighed a little too heavily in his hands.

That didn’t deserve an answer either. Your pride choked on the words you refused to give him. You felt filthy. Fragile. Hollow. Stained.

You heard him inhale, deeply, through his nose. A gesture of irritation. Of judgment. Or maybe… something more veiled. Something he didn’t understand, and therefore resented.

You still said nothing.

And yet you knew he understood.

You knew because he pushed again, this time slower. The tip brushed your swollen, tender entrance, barely parting under the pressure. What he gave you wasn’t comfort. It wasn’t care. But his harshness had lost its edge. He entered you again with contained brutality, less abrupt, more deliberate. The rhythm shifted.

He hadn’t forgiven you. But he was recognizing you. And that hurt more than the tearing.

He took you again, with the same control, but the tempo had changed. His hands hadn’t loosened their grip, and yet, his hips no longer thrust with fury, but with a darker weight. As if he were burying you. As if he needed to stay inside you.

The pain was still there, throbbing with each new thrust. But it mixed with other shades, a heat crawling under your skin, rising up your spine, coiling in your gut. You moaned, just barely, because your body had begun to betray you. To tremble differently.

He noticed. You felt it in the way he gripped your side, in the way he quickened, how he enclosed you with his whole body, forcing you to follow his rhythm even if you were torn up inside.

A dull, inescapable sway that shook the air between your bodies. The weight of his pelvis slammed into you with a wet sound, mixing with your breath.

Your legs gave out. You would’ve fallen if he hadn’t held you.

The shelves trembled. Jars clinked in front of you. Everything smelled of old wood, of sweat, of spilled sex. Of blood.

And when he came—because he did, without a single warning, with a low groan slipping through clenched teeth—he drove himself in to the hilt, to where the pain turned sharp and unbearable. Hot pulses flooded your insides in waves. You felt everything: the pressure, the heat, the full invasion. He stayed there, inside, unmoving, breathing hard against your nape. His hand still on your hip. His whole body over yours.

You didn’t come.

There was no space for pleasure. There were pulses, yes. A shiver from your own body, clenching on reflex, trembling faintly, seeking something that never came. But you didn’t let go. You couldn’t.

Seconds passed. Or many. Time splintered.

Snape finally pulled out of you. Everything burned worse in the emptiness. Something thick and hot dripped down your thigh. You didn’t know if it was blood, cum, or both. You didn’t want to look.

He said nothing.

Neither did you.

You waited a moment before catching your breath.

The silence he left behind was thick, almost tangible. You felt your body pulsing with his absence, the sting between your legs marking a territory where he still was, even though he no longer touched you. You didn’t move right away. Your cheek rested against the shelf’s wood—cold, rough, real. Your legs trembled, but you didn’t collapse. You wouldn’t give him that.

The weight of pain in your lower belly was deep. The tear in your flesh throbbed with a dull, wet ache. You clenched your jaw. Didn’t shake more than necessary. You let yourself rest against the shelf, hands hanging loosely by your sides. You chose stillness. Not out of weakness. Out of pride. You wouldn’t move until you decided to.

Your breathing was still uneven. You didn’t scramble to gather your modesty. You just breathed. You just let it pass.

And then… still dazed, you began to fix your trousers with trembling hands. The bandage no longer covered your chest properly. The sweat had soaked the gauze, marking your torso differently under the open shirt. There was no dignified way to pull yourself together.

You buttoned your shirt without looking too closely, leaving the bandage misplaced, useless. Your body still hurt, but it held. You smoothed your trousers, clumsily brushed the wrinkles from your suit, as if that were enough to become someone who had authority again, who hadn’t broken against a bookshelf.

You didn’t look at him.

“I want you here tomorrow at 8pm,” he said, in his usual tone, composure restored, opening the door in a clear invitation for you to leave. You didn’t wait for another word, nor another gesture—just escaped, trying to walk steady. No goodbyes.

None were needed.

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