bugs

18. Cate Blanchett, Alan Rickman, Lady Dimitrescu.

[sapphicdt]

i want whatever the fuck they had going on

[hyper-fics-sationn]

Despite Severus’ coldness, things are definitely heating up in the courtyard… 🤭

18+ 🫣

Almost done, I promise!!! 😅 feel free to let me know if you’d like to be tagged 😊

[outsidetherain6070]

🪄❤︎ It's Smuturday!❤︎🪄

As always, 18+ only... Click below to read ✩⋆☾

🪄❤︎ Mindf*ck ❤︎🪄

Excerpt from an upcoming chapter of At Last, spoiler alert for anyone reading the full fic. (Chapter mastelist here!) Summary behind the cut.

⋆˙⟡ ⋆.˚ ⊹₊⟡ ⋆🪄⋆˙⟡ ⋆.˚ ⊹₊⟡ ⋆🪄⋆˙⟡ ⋆.˚ ⊹₊⟡ ⋆🪄⋆˙⟡ ⋆.˚ ⊹₊⟡ ⋆

After weeks of Legilimency practice, Stella finally has a breakthrough. Professor Snape ensures her diligence does not go unrewarded. 

[spectrestrings]

Title: Obliged

₊˚୧ PAIRING: Colonel Brandon x f!reader || Sense and Sensibility ₊˚୧ CATEGORIES: drabble/headcanons | READER 18+ ₊˚୧ WARNING: none ₊˚୧ HINT: Just writing Brandon~ ₊˚୧ WORD COUNT: 1.1k

⁀.✦ infatuated!Colonel Brandon will do his best to balance his desire to be around you with the restraint which is expected of him. As much as he would like to be in your company for the entirety of the day, he must not involve himself too much, for this would affect your image as a lady. He values and respects you too much to allow himself to pose as a risk to how the others view you.

⁀.✦ infatuated!Colonel Brandon meets you in the company of others, your common acquaintances, but as he desires to do so, his attention is on you alone. He would attempt to converse with you, attending to your needs, constantly assuring himself that you found the day pleasant and the discussion comfortable. If he sees any discomfort in you, which he would spot rather quickly as he has an astute eye for observation, he would bring it up silently. He is aware that the excessive attention might worsen how you feel.

"Pardon my forwardness, but might I inquire as to your well being? I feel something must be troubling you, and I should be most happy to set your mind at ease, should it lie within my poor abilities."

⁀.✦ infatuated!Colonel Brandon will talk to your closer friends more than he would talk to you, out of his reserved behaviour and not wanting to pressure you into establishing a connection you might not fully desire. It is only after he asks your closer friends about your feelings toward him that he finally dares to approach you personally and speak to you with less restraint. The reserve remains, however, for old habits die hard. The Colonel is someone who has always kept a calm and collected appearance.

"Colonel, such reserve shall only disserve you, for you present yourself as quite indifferent to Miss L/N, when she is, in truth, most hopeful of claiming your regard," a close friend told him. "I should abhor any such misapprehension. For my heart is entirely captive to Miss L/N, yet I harbour no intention of securing her hand by means that are less than honourable."

⁀.✦ infatuated!Colonel Brandon keeps a close eye on you each time you come to an outing that he is part of or organising himself. He takes care of verifying the integrity and resistance of your carriage if you travel with his assistance. If it is a picnic at one of his residences, he will have his servants prepare the foods you personally prefer after having observed your preferences. He will be a good host and bring something for everyone, but he always tries to satisfy your wants a little more than the others, which becomes quickly noticed and serves as a means for everyone to encourage your closeness.

"I have come to understand, Miss L/N, that these diversions hold a considerable favour in your estimation. Pray, forgive my presumption, but I felt compelled to inquire whether they meet with your discerning palate's approval."

⁀.✦ infatuated!Colonel Brandon nearly loses his mind when you get hurt. It seldom happens, for he always keeps an eye on you, pampers you even from a distance, and takes every precaution when you are in his proximity. However, injuries can happen even when everything is well controlled ahead of time. If something like this happens, the Colonel will do anything to soothe you, whilst remaining true to moral codes.

If you were to fall and sprain your ankle, he would be reluctant to pick you up and take you to safety and would at first try to find other, more humble methods to help. When he does find no better solution, he will pick you up and take you to get help, but will apologise constantly for the indecency of his hold on you and will beg for forgiveness even after you told him it wasn't necessary.

"The fault lies with me, entirely, for I proved unable to the task of averting this unfortunate circumstance. Now, Miss L/N, you must endure the pain of your ankle, and find yourself in a situation most precarious for your otherwise unblemished reputation." "Colonel, I entertain no fears that this shall cast a shadow upon anyone's honour, neither mine nor yours." "You possess a most amiable disposition, Miss L/N, and I fervently hope your assessment proves accurate."

⁀.✦ infatuated!Colonel Brandon doesn't leave your side after he brings you to the others. If it is something which can be resolved by the other women or men in your group, he would stand aside and watch with an anxious air how they tend to you. He would bring them anything necessary, such as cold compresses. If, however, it is something more serious, he would be the one to volunteer to ride off and bring a doctor. He knows his capabilities aren't required for aiding you in any way other than this, so he makes haste instead to bring someone more qualified.

⁀.✦ infatuated!Colonel Brandon refuses to let you make any effort, even after your condition is deemed well. He will not let you walk, but have you ride his horse with him or his carriage. In fact, if you had to be in any place, he would offer to give you his means of travel only so that he is certain you won't subject yourself to any unnecessary exertion. He continues to treat you like a porcelain doll for weeks after the incident.

"Colonel, you flatter me excessively." "Miss L/N, I merely perform a gentleman's duty. I confess, I long to contribute more, yet my present circumstances confine my gestures to the loan of my horse and carriage, whenever you should have occasion to require them."

⁀.✦ infatuated!Colonel Brandon will visit you unpromptly after the incident, which is something rather unusual for him. Most guests do show up without announcing first, but Brandon had always been more pondered and let it be known ahead of time that he'd come. Ever since your injury and the slow escalation of your closeness, however, these precautions became a little rarer, and he'd find himself at your residence more often. He would come to check on your health, perhaps leave off a few presents which he would always insist are his delight to bring to you, and there should be no repayment.

"Oh, Colonel, I find myself eternally indebted to you for your considerable kindnesses." "Miss L/N, I desire nothing more than that you preserve that most admirable disposition which so distinguishes you."

The presents, however, had become a sign of his desire to court you, which you had anticipated and encouraged, and soon it was more than obvious to everyone that he would propose soon.

[muiitoloko]

NSFW ALPHABET - BRANDON

A – Aftercare

Brandon is gentle, restrained, but attentive. He doesn’t make a fuss—just tucks the blanket higher, places a kiss on your brow, and keeps your hand in his as your breathing slows. He doesn’t speak much after, unless you’re trembling. Then, quietly: “You’re safe. I’m here.” He stays until you fall asleep. Longer, if he’s allowed.

B – Body Part (Favorite)

Yours? Your hands. He watches them often. The way they curl in his, the way they shake when you come undone.

His? His chest—broad, strong, and dusted with dark hair. He’s not vain about it, but he knows the comfort it brings when you curl into it.

“It pleases me,” he murmurs, “that you find warmth here.”

C – Cum

Always inside. Slowly, deeply, and with a quiet desperation he never dares name. It’s not about seed—it’s about belonging. He pants your name into your neck and doesn’t move after. Just stays buried in you like it’s the only place he can breathe.

D – Dirty Talk

Rare, but devastating when it happens. His voice is low, breath ragged, and every word comes like a confession.

“I’ve thought of this… too long.”

“You do not know… what you do to me.”

He speaks like a man starving—quietly, reverently, and just enough to undo you.

E – Experience

More than you'd think. He’s discreet, not chaste. There were women before—war widows, grieving wives, quiet affairs behind closed doors. But none like you. With you, he’s not just experienced. He’s in awe.

F – Favorite Position

Missionary—because he wants to see you. Every flicker, every tremble. He holds your wrists, presses his forehead to yours, and murmurs promises into your skin. But when your temper flares, when you ride him and take control—he watches, silent and overwhelmed, as if witnessing God.

G – Groaning

Soft, low, guttural. He grits his teeth to keep quiet but loses the battle every time.

You hear it when he pushes in—when you arch, or whisper his name. It’s raw, needy. Sometimes it’s just your name, broken across his lips like prayer.

H – Hair

Chest: yes, and you adore it. Dark, soft, and enough to bury your face in when he holds you.

Pubic: neatly groomed, but natural. He’s not vain about it—just clean, mature, dignified. He keeps himself orderly. Even in passion, Brandon never lets go entirely.

I – Intimacy

He doesn’t rush. Ever. He touches like he’s memorizing you—every freckle, every scar. His love is measured, deep, and terrifying in its sincerity. Sex isn’t release for him. It’s recognition. He looks into your eyes and says: “Tell me if this is too much.” Because it is. And he hopes it always will be.

J – Jacking Off

He’s reluctant to do it—unless he’s tortured by your absence. Then it’s quiet, shameful, slow. He closes his eyes and imagines the sound of your breath, your moans, your forgiveness. Afterward, he feels guilty. And writes you a letter he’ll never send.

K – Kinks

- Power reversal (when you take control, he shudders)

- Praise (giving—he adores making you feel seen)

- Restraint (emotional and literal)

- Slow burn denial (yours, never his)

- Biting (he leaves gentle marks. Then kisses them like apologies.)

- Voice kink (he doesn’t realize it—until you beg him to read anything while inside you)

L – Location

- The study, beside the hearth

- A forest glade after a storm, your skirts muddy, his breath uneven

- Your marital bed, curtains drawn tight

- Anywhere you ask. He never initiates something scandalous. But he never says no to you.

M – Marking

He won’t bruise you—but he’ll leave you sore, aching. His hands are large, calloused. His mouth leaves heat. You leave scratches on his back. He doesn’t flinch. He welcomes them.

N – Nudes

None. He wouldn’t dream of it.

But if you sketched him—soft, bare, stretched in bed beside you—he’d be flushed and reverent. He wouldn’t look away. And if you sent one? He’d hold it like scripture.

O – Oral

Giving: reverent. Careful. He takes his time, anchoring your thighs over his shoulders. He doesn’t moan. He devours.

Receiving: hesitant at first. He tries to stop you. “You don’t need to—”But when you don’t stop, when your lips take him slowly, respectfully—he unravels with a single, ragged groan.

P – Pace

Controlled. Measured. Brandon savors every moment. But when you beg? When you plead? He snaps. The rhythm grows sharp. Urgent. He pins your wrists above your head and moves like it’s war. Then apologizes. And kisses you again.

Q – Quickies

Rare. He prefers time, tenderness, silence.

But if you press into him during a carriage ride, your lips to his throat, your hand beneath his coat—he will fold. Afterward, he stares out the window, breathing hard, muttering:

“That was… undignified.”

But he smiles.

R – Risk

He avoids it. You are precious. Sacred. Not for display. But if someone walks too close, if a rival touches your hand too long—he’ll pull you into the shadows, lift your skirts, and make you his again. Without a word. Just breath. And heat.

S – Stamina

Endless. Quietly impressive.

He doesn’t boast—but he doesn’t stop until you can’t speak. He’ll go again. And again. Until you fall asleep against his chest, twitching, smiling.

T – Toys

None. He believes pleasure should be earned with patience and hands. But if you introduce something silk-bound or curious, he listens. Watches. Then uses it on you like it’s a lesson he means to ace.

U – Unfair

He doesn’t tease. He worships.

But when you tease him—when you edge him with your voice, your fingers, your mouth?He’ll snap. Flip you over. “Enough.” And show you exactly how little mercy he has.

V – Volume

Low. Whispered groans, bitten-off curses. You’ll never hear him shout—except the one time you made him come with only your voice, and he gasped your name like a confession.

W – Wildest Fantasy

You, undone, open, willing. Trusting him with everything. Not just your body. But your grief. Your fear. Your need. He wants you to let him carry it. All of it. Inside and out.

X – X-Ray

Thick. Heavy. Uncut. Curved slightly upward. He doesn’t flaunt it. But when you first see him—hard, flushed, trembling—he can’t meet your eyes. “Is this… all right?” he asks, voice rough. You nod. And he swallows hard.

Y – Yearning

He aches. Constantly.

When you smile at another man. When you refuse to come to bed. When you wear his ring but not his name. He waits. Always. Until you’re ready. Until you say, “Come here.” And then he breaks.

Z – ZZZ (Sleep)

He sleeps facing you, always. One hand on your hip. If you shift, he stirs. If you cry, he wakes. Sometimes, he whispers your name in his sleep. As if guarding it. As if it were the only thing that ever mattered.

[soldhissoulforrocknroll]

I love how Sense and Sensibility has a melodramatic Gothic hero who traveled the world as a soldier and had an angsty backstory and even during the events of the novel participated in a duel. But all of it's off-page so every time he appears he's just Some Guy. Kind of serious, doesn't talk much, pretty boring. His biggest passion is flannel waistcoats

[bethanydelleman]

I have an observation. Alan Rickman's age in S&S is a really big, significant problem, but an equally big problem is that his portrayal is too stoic. I think the filmmakers were trying to make him a tough guy and didn't understand that vulnerability is what makes people feel for you. If your fear of showing weakness gets in the way, then you may think you're protecting yourself, but it makes it hard for anyone to empathize with you.

I can buy that. Colonel Brandon is very emotional, he just leaves the room whenever he has to experience A Feeling. He has to pause when telling Elinor about Eliza's history because he's so overcome:

He could say no more, and rising hastily walked for a few minutes about the room. Elinor, affected by his relation, and still more by his distress, could not speak. He saw her concern, and coming to her, took her hand, pressed it, and kissed it with grateful respect. A few minutes more of silent exertion enabled him to proceed with composure.

and again: Again he stopped to recover himself; and Elinor spoke her feelings in an exclamation of tender concern, at the fate of his unfortunate friend.

I am not an expert on Sense & Sensibility adaptations, but I know there is at least one that has Colonel Brandon being very emotional during the Eliza history scene and I think that is very key to his character.

[miramjade]

I hope you don't mind, but I got a little long-winded when writing my own thoughts on this subject and would love to share. :p

For me, personally, Alan Rickman’s age has never bothered me in the 1995 Sense & Sensibility adaptation – especially when you look at how Emma Thompson and Hugh Grant were also older than their characters in the novel. When you have such a top tier collection of actors and actresses, I find it easy to be forgiving about those sorts of things – especially when their performances, at least in my opinion, are unmatched by any other adaptation.

But the thing I wanted to comment on is that Colonel Brandon’s entire character is defined throughout the novel by his restrained emotion – not a lack of emotion, again, but restrained emotion. When he was first introduced, Jane Austen described him as “silent and grave”, and that description of “grave” continued to be her word of choice for him as the novel progressed. You can easily swap grave with stoic. Marianne – though, of course, in her very Marianne way – believed him beyond “all acuteness of feeling and every exquisite power of enjoyment” for his simply listening quietly and respectfully to her playing the pianoforte. Elinor, when first noticing Brandon’s deepening attachment for her sister, gave us this following insight:

“She saw it with concern; for what could a silent man of five and thirty hope, when opposed to a very lively one of five and twenty? and as she could not even wish him successful, she heartily wished him indifferent. She liked him—in spite of his gravity and reserve, she beheld in him an object of interest. His manners, though serious, were mild; and his reserve appeared rather the result of some oppression of spirits than of any natural gloominess of temper. Sir John had dropped hints of past injuries and disappointments, which justified her belief of his being an unfortunate man, and she regarded him with respect and compassion.”

Silent. Grave. Reserved. Serious but mild. That really sums up Brandon’s manner. Even in the scene where Brandon is expounding on his past and Willoughby’s misdeeds, he describes his own character as having “presently forlorn and cheerless gravity” to the point where he understood if Elinor may have thought it impossible for him to have nurtured such an intense love in his past.

And that’s where we come to the crux of Brandon’s character. He was reckless and unrestrained in his attachment to Eliza – their choice to elope was no small thing – and in that love he clearly showed a depth of romanticism to match even Marianne’s unrestrained sensibilities. He still has that deep romanticism, which is what presents him as such a perfect narrative foil and eventual match in love for Marianne.

In the novel, Austen gave us hints as to what the Brandon home life was like for both our Brandon and Eliza. The estate was much encumbered due to mismanagement. Though Austen doesn’t say much about Mr. Brandon Sr., we can infer much from that alone – to say nothing of how he married his ward to his eldest son “against her inclination” for her fortune. Brandon says that “is all that can be said for the conduct of one who was at once her uncle and guardian.”

If we can infer that the elder Mr. Brandon was, at the very least, a cold and calculating man, Austen is far more explicit in her condemnation of the younger Mr. Brandon. Our Brandon says that his brother “had no regard for her [Eliza]; his pleasures were not what they ought to have been, and from the first he treated her unkindly.” He goes on to describe their marriage as a misery. That statement, his pleasures were not what they ought to have been, is one that has always haunted me. What was it like, growing up at Delaford, with such a father and master and his son and heir? Maybe that was one of the reasons Brandon and Eliza saw fit to elope in the first place. I think that it's possible to reason that Brandon may have learned reserve from an early age, if only for his own safety in such an environment - he certainly learned it upon losing Eliza and joining his regiment, if only from the weight of dashed expectations and ruined dreams.

I have my own head!canons about Brandon's time in India and beyond, which don't have any place in a literary analysis, but I will say that that we can perhaps all agree that one didn’t simply achieve the rank of colonel before the age of thirty lightly. On top of Brandon carrying his heartache with him, there were his experiences in war, where he earned a position as a leader of men. That alone implies some level of gravitas of temperament – let alone the further tragedy he faced upon coming home and discovering his Eliza’s fate and being present for her death. Then, there was the fate of Eliza’s daughter. I think that it’s easy to forget that, throughout the Dashwoods’ early time at Barton, Brandon had no idea of what had become of Eliza and was still actively searching for his ward. She had been missing since that previous October, which had to have weighed on him as a guardian as he castigated himself over his failures towards both mother and daughter. By that point, Brandon must have assumed the very worst. Of course he would be subdued in this context – even more so than was his normal disposition.

But, no matter the personal tragedies he suffered in life, Brandon never lost his propensity for kindness and generosity. He never inflicted upon others the cruelty he endured in his own turn. In his five years as master of Delaford, he'd already turned around the prospects of the estate, according to Mrs. Jennings – which would have included caring for the tenants who had been sorely pressed under the management of his brother and father. As a bachelor soldier with no fixed residence – he had no claim to Delaford at the time, let's remember – he assumed custodianship of Eliza, a girl who could have been his own daughter in another life, all out of love and a sense of duty to her mother. He then went on to act as a guardian to the best of his ability. He showed friendship to the Dashwoods without expecting anything in return, and he went out of his way to prove that friendship through multiple tangible acts of service. He extended kindness to Edward – a stranger – based solely on his knowledge of his character from the Dashwoods and out of a sincere desire to aid what he thought was a love story, understanding the impossibility of Edward’s position from his own thwarted romance in his youth. He constantly showed his heart in word and deed, even if he may have been solemn in disposition. (Which foiled Willoughby's superficial and ultimately selfish character, I don't even have to say - Austen knew exactly what she was doing in her writing of these two men.)

The only time I can really recall Brandon's composure breaking in the novel – even in his confession to Elinor, he held himself firmly in line, taking the time to pause and gather himself often – is when Marianne fell ill and was in mortal peril. When he fetched Mrs. Dashwood from Barton, he betrayed some deep emotion of feeling – though that emotion may have been embellished, Elinor suspects, "by the fancy of her mother".

Trials and tragedy have taught Brandon to be reserved and guarded, but again, he showed himself kind through his actions. He has an enormous heart and a true depth of fellow feeling. It’s the world around him that has forced him into a mold that he may not have naturally fit in different circumstances. We all know that Jane Austen was satirizing the Romantic movement with Sense & Sensibility, and I think that she did that wonderfully with Brandon’s character. He is her answer to the Byronic hero – a haunted character with a tragic past, who, instead of turning to bitterness and despair, chooses kindness and generosity and empathy. If Marianne had to learn to temper her sensibilities with sensibility, then Brandon, over the course of the novel, was able to let more of his sensibilities free and let his heart breathe again. (And I could write an entire essay about how his character arc mirrors Edward’s in that regard, I just love Austen's thematic parallels in S&S so much.) By the end of the novel, equilibrium is achieved, both for Brandon and Marianne, and that’s what makes them work as partners for each other, in every sense of the word. I mean, just look at Austen slay when she writes:

“She was born to overcome an affection formed so late in life as at seventeen, and with no sentiment superior to strong esteem and lively friendship, voluntarily to give her hand to another!—and that other, a man who had suffered no less than herself under the event of a former attachment, whom, two years before, she had considered too old to be married,—and who still sought the constitutional safeguard of a flannel waistcoat!

But so it was. Instead of falling a sacrifice to an irresistible passion, as once she had fondly flattered herself with expecting,—instead of remaining even for ever with her mother, and finding her only pleasures in retirement and study, as afterwards in her more calm and sober judgment she had determined on,—she found herself at nineteen, submitting to new attachments, entering on new duties, placed in a new home, a wife, the mistress of a family, and the patroness of a village.

Colonel Brandon was now as happy, as all those who best loved him, believed he deserved to be;—in Marianne he was consoled for every past affliction;—her regard and her society restored his mind to animation, and his spirits to cheerfulness; and that Marianne found her own happiness in forming his, was equally the persuasion and delight of each observing friend. Marianne could never love by halves; and her whole heart became, in time, as much devoted to her husband, as it had once been to Willoughby.”

I COULD EAT THESE THREE PARAGRAPHS WITH A SPOON

But, to the specific criticisms of Rickman’s performance, I would point out that it is only here, in the epilogue, so to speak, that Austen writes Brandon with cheerfulness and animation. I personally think that Rickman’s performance was spot-on in its reserve. Rickman had that aura of grief and tragedy about him, but he still allowed Brandon’s kindness and vulnerability to show through in multiple settings. In his very first scene, he’s playful when he answers Margaret’s questions about India. Then, there’s the scene where he’s petting the dogs as he walks up to the cottage – and then he salutes Margaret, once again showing her affection and respect. He’s smiling and even teasing when he gifts Marianne flowers – just as he was when they were bowling together at Barton House. The nervous gestures he showed – like tapping the back of the arm chair – during his confession to Elinor said so much with so little. Then, I don’t even have to get into his entirely A+ depiction of the depths of Brandon’s grief and fear and utter devotion when Marianne fell ill at Cleveland. He was beyond openly vulnerable in those scenes; he was wearing his heart bleeding on his sleeve. I personally wouldn’t describe Rickman’s portrayal of Brandon as “tough” in any way. I thought that he 100% understood the assignment, and delivered what is, in my opinion, a Colonel Brandon that's exactly as Austen intended him to be.

I just . . . Brandon is one of my favorite Austen heroes and I can talk about him all day. I don’t know if this helped at all - or if my bias is simply showing, in all honesty. But once I got started rambling, I couldn’t stop. ;)

(And here! Gif proof of the scenes I mentioned, all lovingly gleaned from @smilingformoney )

It's subtle, perhaps - but there is Colonel Brandon, just as Austen described: serious but mild, with a kind heart and a gentle manner, despite all the grief and tragedy life has thrown at him otherwise.

[do-not-u-dare]

”Explain yourself” followed by “stop making excuses” has always baffled me because the fuck you think explaining myself is????

[teaboot]

I’m not Christian, I don’t go to church anymore, and my pastor died, but when he was alive I’d sometimes go to his sermons and I remember one time he said “it feels good to hate, but we know that it isn’t allowed, so when we’re told that we’re allowed to hate someone we get so excited that we forget we’re supposed to love”, and if my humble atheist ass might borrow some church talk I’d like to perhaps submit that

[teaboot]

Anyhow sometimes on the day to day I feel disgust or revulsion and I have to ask myself “is this a danger to anyone at all or am I just looking for something I’m allowed to hate” and a solid 98/100 times it’s the latter so once again thank you pastor D

[lousiecom11]

Severus Taking You Back to Common Room - Blurb

"Severus," you whispered. The music was loud, you wanted to go home.

Severus replied immediately, being the introvert he is, he did not want to be at this party.

"Yes, darling," his voice a bit nervous and raised due to the blaring music.

"I want to go, now, my feet hurt." You half-whined half-complained as you bounced on your heels.

Severus didn't say anything because you were already stressed before the ball about your tall heels.

It was the Yule Ball, which had been going on for hours by this point. You loves parties like this, loved being with friends and making memories.

Severus on the other hand, if he hadn't been invited by you, would be enjoying quiet reading in the Slytherins common room.

He held your hand as you walked out of the ball room, passing by a few students making out and... doing much more than just making out.

"My feet hurt so bad," you whined again. Severus's eyes were concerned, he was an extreme lap dog. Would literally do anything you asked and try to offer every solution there was for your pain.

"Do you want to take them off, I can carry you?" He offered.

Your eyes softened and your lips slightly pouted, "Yes please, take them off for me."

You leaned against the castle wall, the portraits looking curiously and talking amongst themselves as Severus took off your shoes.

"Do you want me to carry you?" Severus asking, you hesitated. Though you saw the floors often getting mopped, they looked quite old and... not the cleanest.

"Yes please," you nodded, Severus carried you bridal style and ascended down the stairs.

"Why didn't you put charms on your heels?" Severus asked

You blinked, "I've never thought of that." Your parents often brought you to muggle shoe stores. When you were six and had a muggle friend, you loved her Cinderella themed heels, though knowing nothing about the movie.

"Do you want me to charm them for you?" he asked. You shook your head, he was always so concerned, sometimes it freaked you out having someone so nice and attentive.

"I'll do it some other time, I usually buy shoes at muggle shops." You rested your head against his shoulder."

He set you on the common room couch, "Well maybe you should check out normal shoe shops then."

You chuckled and nodded, "Want to come with me?"

He blushed, "I have no fashion in women's shoes."

You giggled, feeling tired now, and the high of the party coming down. "Cissy is probably still there, drinking somehow." You sighed, Cissy always followed Lucius around, he wasn't even that great.

Severus nodded, "Probably, do you want some tea or food in general?"

You shook your head, "No, I just want to sleep."

[haansgruuber]

Hello! Two questions. 1) It's true there isn't bad critics or scandals about Alan Rickman? Reading information and news about him, I pleasantly surprised by the fact that everybody loves him. Maybe because he's a very good, gentle and wonderful person. 2) I love music. Soundtracks of Alan's films are beautiful. So I am curious to know: what's Alan's relationship with music? Which genres or artists did he prefer? Thank you and sorry for mistakes (English isn't my mother-tounge). DMK

Hi. I’m sorry if I’m getting back to you late. These are some good questions:

1) As far as I know, Alan did an excellent job of staying out of the limelight and he really did seem like he was a genuine, sweet person who didn’t need or want all of that attention enough to be ‘‘scandalous.’‘ That being said, there were some critics of his play, My Name Is Rachel Corrie from political perspectives, even though I personally don’t think the play is politically driven at all. You can read more about the controversies in these articles. Regardless of whether or not anyone agrees with Rachel’s activism, she didn’t deserve to die in the way she did and Alan merely took her writings and represented the story as just a human narrative about an everyday young woman who fought hard for what she believed in and was killed in an unjust way; the play took no political sides on the Palestinian and Israeli conflict, in my opinion, but other than that, I have barely heard one bad word about him in the press. Unless one considers tabloid Daily Fail writer Maureen Paton’s Alan Rickman: The Unauthorised Biography, which not only takes a lot of quotes from both Rickman and colleagues out of context, spreads false ‘‘facts’‘ about Rickman (i.e. having a non-existent speech impediment), writes some condescending things about his immediate family just because they aren’t actors, and twists truths in a Rita Skeeter fashion, but goes out of its way to paint Rickman as a stage brat, which everyone is aware he wasn’t. In short, stay away from it. Alan had, time and time again, expressed his loathing for it in countless interviews. You read it, you can see why.

2) Alan did a short, list-type interview for the promotion of CBGB where he cited some of his favourite songs and artists. Trouble is, I can’t find it now! [If anyone has a link to it, don’t hesitate to message me! Edit: Thank you to @smileslikeareptile!] But I remember he cited a lot of 60s and 70s music, particularly ‘’Dancing in the Street.’’ The excerpt, folks:

These are songs to have grown up with:

I Won’t Dance - Fred  Astaire                                                                    My  hero. Completely disciplined, completely free.

I’m Easy - Keith  Carradine                                                          From  Robert Altman’s great film, Nashville.  The scene has an acting lesson  from Lily Tomlin.

Lily, Rosemary, and the Jack of Hearts - Bob  Dylan                                                                      10am.  Monday morning. RADA student. Our brilliant teacher, June Kemp, gets us moving.

The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face - Roberta  Flack                                                                Just  listen.

Desperado - Langley  Schools Music Project                        Recorded in a school gym in  1976. The singer is 9 years old.

Dancing in the Street - Martha  and The Vandellas                                      Just  dance.

Real Good For Free - Joni  Mitchell                                                                  She  says it all, really. No comment required.

Coney Island - Van  Morrison                                                                Nostalgia  about everything. Everywhere.

You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling - The  Righteous Brothers                                              Last  dance at the party. A red light bulb. The dregs of cheap wine.

Imagination - Little Jimmy  Scott                                                                  A  great jazz singer rediscovered just in time.

Anyhow, here’s an excerpt from a similar one:

Obviously I was aware of the huge rise of The Police in England, and as an art student I was very much a fan of Talking Heads. And then Blondie, but I wasn’t a hard punk-rock fan at the time. But of course I was also very much around the height of The Beatles and The Stones, so it was like that was the lone star and everything spun off from there. And [Bob] Dylan, very much so. … England in the ‘60s and the ‘70s was everything that history has said; it was phenomenally exciting, musically. One was very shaped by that.

I have to say, he had good taste. And here’s an excerpt from an older interview:

What is your favourite romantic song?Alan:  ‘’Take It With Me’’ by Tom Waits.What is your favourite Christmas song?Alan:  ‘’Merry Christmas’’ by John Lennon.

As well as from 2009:

Here is what the actor said about Georgian songs and food in the interview with Rustavi 2 TV in Georgia:‘’Georgian polyphonic gospel is a mystery. I have no idea where this voice comes from. Even though I have listened to it for quite a long [time], I simply cannot understand it.’‘

That’s all I have for now as far as Alan talking about music goes, so anyone, feel free to submit more that I may have missed! I hope this answers your questions.

P.S. English isn’t my native language either. You’re fine, honey. :)

Regards,

Emily

[halfbloodwhore]

The Legilimens (Snape x Female Reader; 18+)

"He will penetrate your mind with absurd ease."

CW: Smut! 18+, minors DNI!

Severus gently pushed your chin up with his thumb, forcing you to look him in the eyes. "Do you trust me, darling?" You nodded eagerly, your core tightening in anticipation.

You felt the moment Severus pushed past your mental barrier, his magic gently stroking against your consciousness. Ever so obediently, your mind opened for him, allowing him unchecked access to your deepest and darkest desires.

Severus' magic curled carefully around your inner thoughts, swiftly finding exactly what he was looking for and allowing the thought to present itself to him as if he were doing nothing more than thumbing through the pages of his favorite book. Your eyes fluttered shut against your will as the images that Severus' legilimency conjured began to play in your mind.

Severus' hands moved up your thighs ever so slowly. You knew that by the time his fingers found their way to the place you desperately needed to feel them, you'd be soaked and utterly ready for him. A whimper escaped your lips and Severus let his hands come to a halt just below your hip bones. "Needy tonight, aren't we?" He tsked, the corners of his lips tugging up in a smirk. "Please," you begged breathlessly.

Severus pulled out of the memory before carefully plunging into another.

Severus was seated in a living room that was faintly illuminated by a crackling fire, a whiskey glass cupped tightly in one hand while his other hand massaged the bridge of his nose. "Tough day?" You inquired, slinking into the room. "I don't know how I ever let Dumbledore talk me into becoming a professor," he sighed. "My poor, Sev. Maybe I can help... improve your night?" Severus dropped his hand from his face and looked at you with a quirked eyebrow. "And how, pray tell, do you plan on doing that?" He challenged. You bit your lip and slowly dropped to your knees in front of him. Severus watched you with an intensity in his eyes that was reserved exclusively for you as you peppered light kisses up the leg of his trousers and then over the buckle of his belt. You made quick work of removing his belt and reached into his now unzipped trousers, wrapping your fingers delicately around his erection. Severus let out a breathy moan as you slowly dragged your hand up and down his length a few times before freeing it from his pants. You made a show of licking a stripe up his shaft and then slowly running your tongue around the head of his cock, savoring the pre cum that was already dripping from your touch.

You gasped as Severus pulled himself from that memory with a growl, opening your eyes and meeting his gaze once more.

"Naughty, naughty girl," he tutted lowly, his voice thick with lust. He dropped your chin and allowed his hand to snake up your skirt. You felt as one of his fingers curled around your panties and pulled the fabric to the side. Gently, he stroked a finger up and down your folds, collecting the wetness that had pooled there while he was sorting through your memories. "Just the thought of pleasuring me makes you sopping wet, doesn't it?"

You nodded eagerly, biting back a moan as his finger continued to trail up and down your glistening pussy.

"You're desperate for me to take care of you right now, aren't you?"

Again you nodded, unable to form any words as the haze of pleasure clouded your mind. Without warning Severus let the tip of his index finger sink into your hole. Unable to hold back this time, you moaned at the sensation, eager for more. Slowly, Severus sank his finger deeper and deeper until you felt his knuckle brush against you, eliciting another moan from your lips.

"Tell me what you want, darling." Severus whispered, his lips now resting against the cusp of your ear.

"I want you," you moaned out. Severus added another finger inside of you, sliding his digits in and out at an infuriatingly slow pace for a few beats before curling the tips of his fingers and brushing against your inner sensitive spot.

Satisfied with the breathless moan the movement drew out of you, Severus removed his fingers and tugged his achingly hard cock out of his pants. Severus pressed the tip of his cock into your hole and hissed. "You're so tight, darling."

You groaned as he sank into you fully, losing yourself in the blissful sensation of your pussy stretching to accommodate his length. "Look at me," he commanded huskily, fighting to keep his voice even as he relished the feeling of your walls clasping around his erection.

You did as he instructed and again felt the familiar sensation of his magic embracing your mind. This time, Severus did not seek out your dirtiest memories, instead he let your consciousness stream into his own mind. His nails dug into your hips as he began to pound into you. He could hear your inner chants of "Merlin, yes!" and "Fuck me harder, Severus" in his head as clearly as he would if you were saying them out loud. Having undiluted access to your thoughts, and knowing exactly how much you craved his cock inside of you, was almost too much for him to bear.

Severus grit his teeth as he fought to keep his orgasm at bay until he finally felt your pussy begin to pulse around his cock and heard your verbal cries of pleasure begin to blend with the thoughts you were having. From his access to your mind, he could nearly feel just how much you enjoyed his cock. Unable to take it any longer, he let himself unravel inside you before sweetly kissing your forehead and pulling out.

"I love you," you thought, pushing the words his way through your mental connection.

"I love you too," he whispered back.

[hyper-fics-sationn]

Emotionally break severus. Thats my only need.

He can cum as a treat. But i need to see him crumble like a wet sandcastle.

I feel like this is the best ‘ask’ to fit with what’s been written for this first chapter… ask and you shall receive 🤭

18+ smuuuuuuutty, denial, emotional, and more smut

6.4k+ words

Severus Snape and the Human Condition

Chapter one:

No Complaining, Just Compliance

“This can't be happening,” … “Surely not…” … “Not to me.” were just some of the muffled words she could hear through the thin gap from his door not being closed properly.

Professor Snape didn't usually leave his chamber door open, not even a little crack, so this was a rarity. She knew he would've never done this on purpose. She knew he wasn't acting his usual self in there, and most importantly, she knew how he would react if he knew she was watching. She squinted her eyes slightly when she heard him groan, “I can't…”, followed by placing his head in his hands and exhaling loudly, almost angrily. She moved herself closer to the chamber door to try and get a better view of what was happening and attempt to hear what he was mumbling into his hands. She watched closely and intently as he paced about the room with his face still covered, growing more and more visibly distressed. He stopped suddenly and exhaled loudly, but when he brought his hands away from his face, their eyes met. In that split second, she witnessed him see red. Pure, humiliated, furious, red.

Eleanor quickly moved her head and flattened her back against the wall, breathing heavily. She listened carefully and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to work out if she could hear Snape’s footsteps coming toward the door. Part of her wanted to admit that she had been listening to and watching him, but part of her also wanted to run. She knew he knew that she had been there. She felt a little anxious, or even excited, perhaps, of how he was about to react.

She swallowed hard and nervously pressed her fingertips into the stone when his footsteps came closer to the door. She watched out of the corner of her eye as the door creaked open further, her heart beating madly in anticipation for his reaction.

“Miss Eleanor, I do not know why you would wait outside my classroom door and not enter it,” Professor Snape spoke in an eerily calm tone, “Perhaps you’d like to come inside and… offer an explanation.”

“I…” Eleanor looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I think you will.” He spoke in a firmer tone, pushing the door open and holding it for her to walk through.

Eleanor inhaled sharply and walked inside, slightly uneasy from the placid way he was acting; although they had been seeing each other a little while, even intimately on occasion, he still didn't strike her as someone who would be willing to show that kind of emotion that she had just witnessed.

“Is everything alright, Severus?” She asked, watching him cautiously as he walked over to his desk.

Severus remained silent with his back to her, grasping the edge of his desk ask he rolled up onto his tiptoes a couple of times. Eleanor continued to approach him and placed a hand upon his bicep, speaking softly, “Severus?”

“How… dare.. you…” He muttered lowly.

“I’m sorry?” Eleanor spoke nervously, squeezing his arm.

“How dare you?!” Severus bellowed this time, spinning around and unlatching her hand from him in the process.

Eleanor stumbled back slightly and widened her eyes, gazing upon his furious face. He was breathing heavily and his face was crimson with rage, hands now behind him on his desk. Eleanor blinked hard, afraid steam was about to start coming out from his ears.

“I’m sorry?” Eleanor repeated, though this time even more timidly.

“No, you aren't,” Severus glared, “If you were, you would not have continued snooping.”

“I can't… wasn't…” She struggled with her wording, afraid of saying the wrong thing at this point.

“Do not lie to me, Miss Eleanor.” Severus snapped.

“Then, tell me what it was that I was snooping on!” Eleanor suddenly exclaimed the words faster than her brain could process.

“Excuse me?!” Severus stepped forward, his nostrils flaring in anger, “You have no right!”

“To what?” She tried to act less scared than she was, “Ask why the man who I have been spending the majority of my evenings with why he looked so distressed?!”

“Eleanor, I am warning you…” He raised his hand, pointing his finger as his hands trembled in anger.

“Severus, please,” Eleanor narrowed her eyebrows, exhaling shakily, “Tell me…”

“I owe you nothing.” Severus responded coldly.

“We can talk about what I saw, Severus.” Eleanor attempted.

“You saw nothing.” Severus snarled.

“You were-!” Eleanor protested.

“Nothing!” Severus exclaimed.

“Why is it that I can share your bed but not your thoughts?” Eleanor sighed in frustration.

“Just because you open your legs so willingly for me, it does not mean that I open my mouth so willingly for you.” Severus spoke in a cruel tone, though his expression not changing.

Eleanor’s eyes widened and she inhaled deeply, genuinely taken back by the harshness of Severus’ comment. The minute she even attempted to open her mouth, he began to advance toward her, wand now in hand with a ferocious look on his face.

“I invited you in here to make sure you do not snoop again, and that what you saw or heard did not happen.”

Eleanor looked up at him, “But it did happen, Severus,” She spoke flatly, “And every time it does happen, every time you break that stiff exterior, you refuse to acknowledge it! Will you ever tell me?” She narrowed her eyebrows, “I just don't understand how we can be that close in the dark, and yet you cannot tell me…”

“Listen to me!” Severus towered over her, gritting his teeth. Eleanor’s heart was beating madly; both from having the nerve to question him and also being mildly afraid of how he was about to react, “There is nothing to tell.”

She could feel his breath against her face from how close their faces now were and she played with her fingers nervously, daring herself to look up at him. She was growing sick of him acting like this. Every time she tried to encourage him to open up, he would grow tirelessly defensive.

“Severus, I saw—!”

“Obli—!” Severus raised his wand before being thrown off as Eleanor quickly ducked and darted to the other side of his classroom.

“What the fuck, Severus?!” Eleanor gasped, placing one hand over her mouth and one hand over her chest, her eyes wide.

“I… I—” Severus blinked quickly, his back still to her.

‘What the hell were you thinking?! What have you done…’ were just the start of the thoughts now rushing through Severus’ mind. Usually confident in his outbursts, he now found himself speechless at his own actions. He could hear Eleanor’s heavy breathing from across the room, shocked that she was even still in there, actually.

Slowly, he turned around. His wand was still shaking in his hand and he quickly slipped it into his pocket once their eyes met, swallowing hard as his breath hitched in his throat.

“Did you…” Eleanor paused to inhale deeply, “Did you just try to obliviate me?!”

“You… I had to!” Severus narrowed his eyebrows, “You weren't supposed to see what you saw! You weren't supposed to hear-!”

“Hang on, are you blaming me?!” Eleanor’s jaw dropped, scoffing in disbelief as Severus attempted to ramble a response;

“You don't get to see that, Eleanor! Nobody gets to see what's inside!” His voice raised marginally, “Not what goes on inside here!” He pointed to his temple, face now flushed red again.

“Then, don't leave your fucking classroom door open!” Eleanor shouted back.

“It was not open, it was ajar, and it did not hold an open invitation for someone to come spying on a situation which was not meant for them!” Severus was seething, barely able to control his breathing at this point.

“By which you mean to resolve by obliviating me?!” Eleanor scowled in disbelief.

“How the hell else was I supposed to stop you from telling anyone?!” Severus’ fists clenched by his sides.

“By trusting me?!” Eleanor spoke in a loud, obvious tone, “By telling me what it is that is bothering you? What made you so emotional in the first place?!” She opened her mouth again before he even had a chance to respond, “You let me into your bed but not into your head, let me help you, Severus!”

“This is exactly why I tried to do it…” he mumbled quietly, closing his eyes and huffing loudly before dipping his head and feeling his lip twitch as he tried to muster as much concentration as possible.

“Severus, if you are doing what I think you are doing…” Eleanor tilted her head, raising her eyebrows, “I know far too well that you are skilled enough to cast a spell without the use of your wand.”

“Agh, you are making me do it!” Severus bellowed as he lifted his head, spitting with anger as his black eyes pierced through the greasy curtains of hair now hanging over his face, “Look what you've done!”

“What I have done?!” Eleanor scoffed in disbelief, “I am done with this, Severus,” she shook her head and stormed toward the door, turning back to look over her shoulder and speaking as she placed her hand on the handle, “I don't know how you expect us to go any further if you think that the only way to deal with me witnessing your insecurities is to wipe them from my memory completely. Through all that hard, cold exterior, I thought you were better than that. Thank you for proving me wrong.”

“Even more proof that you should not have been spying on me in the first place!” He shouted as she left his classroom, his voice bouncing off the stone walls, “Finally, you step foot in my classroom and actually learn a lesson!”

But she didn't even give him the benefit of turning back around.

Severus was frantic. Back to pacing around his room. Humiliated. Angry. But with Eleanor or himself? He immediately hated himself the moment he tried to obliviate her.

‘What a toxic reflex.’ he thought to himself.

He stormed to the other side of his classroom and rested his hands upon the desk, hanging his head forward as his hair fell over his face again. The self-hatred was raging through him, internally scolding himself for the way he had just acted and repeatedly asking himself why. Why couldn't he just be honest with her and admit that he did have insecurities and that he was afraid of losing her within his self-loathing?

‘Why do you always strive to fuck things up?!’ he spoke to himself, though he already knew the answer; he had spent so long convincing himself that he wasn't worthy of affection, the moment he was presented with it his first instinct was to push it away. It was a control thing; if he was in control of the affection drifting away, it hurt less than them leaving of their own accord.

Teaching his potions class for the rest of the afternoon would have usually taken his mind off his bad decisions, but the memory of Eleanor’s face when he raised his wand would not leave his head. Once his final class was dismissed, he had convinced himself that he had no choice but to go and speak to her — though he had already convinced himself that she wouldn't want to hear any of what he wanted to say.

‘Sorry I attempted to obliviate you, but you really should not have been snooping outside my door.’ he practiced inside his head as he marched down the corridor of the castle — though his confident walk was not reflective of how he was feeling about the situation.

His heart sank when he arrived at her chamber door and his fists clenched as he built up the courage to knock. He would make the excuse that he was rehearsing what to say, but the truth was he didn't even know where to start. Put his pride aside for the sake of a girl who saw him for who he was and still showed some sort of interest in him? Here goes nothing.

The first knock was weak — barely even a sound made as his knuckles brushed against the surface. His fist tightened and he knocked more firmly. He took one step back and held his hands behind his back, glancing briefly over his shoulder to make sure no one was around.

He felt nauseous as the door handle turned and wondered for a brief moment whether it would be better to just run. Before he even had chance to decide, however, the door was open, and there she was; staring at him half in shock, half dismissive.

“Good evening, Miss Eleanor,” He avoided eye contact, “I think we need to discuss your sneaking around.”

“Ah,” Eleanor raised her eyebrows, unfazed, “And there I was, thinking you were here to apologise.”

He swallowed hard and paused briefly, “Perhaps we can have this discussion inside…”

“So, not only do you turn up unannounced and play the victim, but now you're inviting yourself in?” Eleanor sighed quietly, “And who said romance was dead…”

“You never know who could be listening to your conversations,” Severus shrugged, following her into her chamber and muttering under his breath as he closed the door, “Or spying on them.”

“Oh, can you just drop it?!” Eleanor sighed, “You’re starting to sound like a spy yourself with a guilty conscience.” she rolled her eyes.

“I don't appreciate that tone.” Severus skipped over her comment.

“Well, after the way you spoke to me earlier, it's the only tone I've got.” she shrugged.

Severus’ lip twitched but he remained silent.

“You know, to say you turned up at my door saying that we needing to talk, you’re not doing a lot of it,” Eleanor broke the silence, “What do you want from me, Severus?”

“I…” was all he managed to say before his brain kicked into overdrive and what he really wanted to say.

“What, you now suddenly have nothing to say to your verbal punch bag?” Eleanor arched a brow.

Severus’ breath hitched. That hurt. Verbal punch bag? Is that really how she thought he viewed her? He stepped closer to her with all intentions of saying something, but once again remained silent as his black eyes gazed down at her.

“Congratulations, you've made yourself speechless,” Eleanor widened her eyes dramatically, “But if you have nothing else to say, I'm sure you don't want to waste your evening with a person who just ‘snoops’ on you for fun, so—”

Severus had hundreds of emotions coursing through him right now; guilt, anger, and confusion to name a few. He had a split decision to make; keep her intrigued in his next move or walk. When she tilted her head up to look at him, his split decision was made. He leaned down to kiss her, cutting her off from telling him to leave.

Eleanor stumbled backward a couple of steps with a scowl of confusion, half shocked, half angry.

“What was that?” She asked, blinking hard as she brought her hand to her lips; this was very out of character for him, he would hardly ever make the first move.

“I am sorry, I will, uh…” He shuffled awkwardly, cursing himself as he turned toward the door.

“Severus, tell me why you can give yourself to me like that but not verbally,” Eleanor attempted the pressing question one last time, “Usually you are against spontaneous physical affection, but when to comes to choosing between that and talking about what is bothering you…”

“You don't want to know…” he spoke quietly.

“No, you don't want to tell.” Eleanor stood with her hands on her hips.

To be called out like this lit the flame of anger in Severus’ stomach quicker than anything. It was his place to be the one with the sharp, cold tongue, not hers.

“Correct.” Severus glanced to her lips and then the floor.

“Then, you shall depart my chamber un-kissed.” Eleanor responded simply.

‘It’s only what I deserve’, Severus thought to himself and turned to the door again, though this time feeling as if his feet were glued to the floor.

“Severus,” Eleanor spoke softly, placing a hand on his shoulder and feeling him tense immediately; she was like a comforting hand and an icy razor blade all at once. “Please.”

“Please… what?” Severus spoke quietly, hanging his head forward and away from her.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you want to go because you don't feel something for me.” Eleanor replied, gently pressing her fingertips into his shoulder.

Severus’ lip twitched and he spun around in one motion, gazing down at her with glazed over eyes but remaining silent. The moment their eyes met, Eleanor reached up with one of her hands and touched the back of her fingers to his cheek, this time allowing the kiss more than she did a few moments ago. Severus inhaled shakily, almost as if he was about to burst into tears.

“Look me…” Eleanor kissed him again, cupping his cheeks in her hands, “In the eyes…” She guided him back into the centre of the room, “And tell m—”

“No.” Severus shivered against her lips, his hands finding her waist.

“No?” Eleanor’s hands slid to the nape of his neck.

“The way I feel about you is what has gotten me into this state in the first place.” Severus spoke faster than his brain could prevent him from admitting.

“We’re getting somewhere…” Eleanor whispered, soothingly scratching the nape of his neck.

“All my life…” Severus started to speak and then paused, fighting with the voice in his head telling him that he shouldn't allow himself to be so vulnerable.

“Look at me,” Eleanor said softly, gazing up at him as her thumbs lightly brushed back and forth over his cheeks, “Your words will never leave this room.”

He looked down into her eyes and felt a lump form in his throat. He had never seen an expression so genuine. He had to tell her now, his armour was already cracked.

“All my life, through one event or another, I have had this endless weight of being undeserving.” Severus spoke quietly.

“Undeserving?” Eleanor arched a brow, “Of?”

“Anything.” he sighed quietly, shrugging in defeat.

“Could you be a little more specific?” she asked, narrowing her eyebrows

“To receive…” he inhaled shakily, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Its okay, Severus,” she smiled kindly when his eyes opened again, “What do you think you are undeserving of?”

“You.” Severus’ gaze met hers again, chewing the inside of his lip.

“Enough of that mindset, Severus,” she shook her head, leaning up to peck his lips again, “Is that why you were—”

“I’m just so, so afraid of… putting a foot wrong…” he pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb, “When I've already convinced myself that I am undeserving of you in the first place.”

“Please stop saying you are undeserving…” Eleanor frowned, now reaching for his hands, “I wouldn't be standing here right now if I didn't think you were worth my time. Especially after today’s events.”

Severus stayed silent, staring at his feet with an ashamed expression on his face.

“Self sabotage is not the right way to deal with receiving affection that you wrongly believe you do not deserve.” Eleanor squeezed booth of his hands.

“I’ve played my life like this for so long now, I don't know how to be anyone else.” Severus admitted, a tinge of regret in his tone.

Eleanor felt her own eyes start to tear up from his confession and her heart genuinely ached for him, silently wishing that he would just allow himself to be happy, but knowing that it just wasn't that easy.

“Come here,” She spoke softly, leaning up on her tiptoes and pressing their lips together tenderly.

“I like that…” Severus whispered against her lips, barely even audible and his hands now upon her waist again as he kissed her back.

“It’s okay to like it, you know,” Eleanor’s lips lingered longer this time, “Allowing someone to show you how they like you.”

Severus brought her closer to him and kissed her slightly harder, his hands now on the small of her back. He felt her smile against his lips as their heads tilted and it wasn't long before her tongue was timidly requesting to push past his lips. Severus felt his heartbeat speed up slightly but parted his lips, the tips of their tongues immediately touching.

Sure, they had been intimate with one another before, but this felt different. All the other times he had held her at arms length; just sex with no questions asked. This time, however, with his feelings and honesty out in the open, it felt even more intimate.

Eleanor stumbled back slightly and pushed his cloak off his shoulders before grasping his shirt and unbuttoning the top two buttons. Severus was going with the flow, enjoying the feeling of being wanted like this was their first time. Once the buttons on his shirt were undone, he reached for the zip on her dress, trying his best to pull it down with his shaky hands

“I— I’d like to see you,” he broke the kiss momentarily, “please.”

“Since you asked so nicely.” Eleanor winked, placing her hand over his and helping him pull the zip down properly.

Severus’ lip quivered as Eleanor’s dress pooled to the floor, feeling his crotch becoming even more restricted when she stepped out of it. She glanced up at him with a smirk and reached forward, pulling him further toward her by the part of his shirt that had already been unbuttoned and continued to unbutton the rest of it as she backed him into her bedroom. Their lips crashed back together, teeth almost colliding from the urgency.

“Mm, what's this?” she whispered against his lips, her hand moving to cup the bulge in the front of his pants once his shirt had been tossed to the floor.

“The effect of you.” Severus breathed against her lips, pushing against the palm of her hand and making a soft grunt when he felt himself back up against her dresser.

“You flatter me.” Eleanor grinned, unzipping his trousers properly and massaging her hand against the protrusion in the front of his underwear.

“Mmmh…” he let out a heavy groan against her lips from the feeling.

Severus gently pulled at her bottom lip between his teeth and moaned softly as she applied a little more pressure with her hand, placing his own hands on the dresser behind him. Eleanor tapped the tip of her index finger against the head of his cock through the material of his underwear and giggled from his reaction before pulling his trousers and underwear down all in one go. Severus gasped through clenched teeth as his hardened cock sprung out and slapped against his lower stomach so aggressively that it caused a gas of wind. Severus’ hands soon lifted off the dresser and he reached behind her to unclasp her bra, dropping it to the floor before grasping the waistband of her underwear with his shaky hands.

“How can you claim to be so inexperienced when your hands always know exactly where to go…” Eleanor whispered between clumsy kisses as Severus physically ripped her underwear off and threw it to the side.

“Perhaps all my expertise just revolves around you…” Severus spoke in a slow, gruff tone.

Eleanor inhaled sharply from his response and placed one hand against his chest, pushing his bare bottom onto the dresser. Severus’ hands gripped her securely to bring him with her and kissed her harshly, narrowing his eyebrows with a grunt once her hand had found his cock again. Their tongues tangled back together and their eyes fell shut, both of Eleanor’s hands now skilfully stroking up and down his entire length. Severus shivered from the long awaited touch and parted his legs a little further, cupping her face in his hands and running his fingers through her hair.

“Fuck…” he spoke breathily against her lips, “I need you… need you…”

“What, now?” her thumb circled around the tip of his cock, smirking against his lips.

“Now…” Severus broke the kiss in order to catch his breath.

Eleanor kissed him harshly once more before pulling away completely and taking a step back, her eyes taking a walk up and down his body several times and vice versa. After a few moments, she bit her lip seductively and turned around.

“Wh-what are you…” Severus narrowed his eyebrows when her back was to him, widening his eyes when she reached behind and placed her hands on his thighs, pulling him forward so that instead of his legs being dangled over the dresser, the tips of his toes were now on the floor, “d-doing…”

Eleanor raised herself up onto her tiptoes, too, and pushed her bottom backward, Severus’ engorged cock now resting between her legs, “Is this how it feels to have a huge cock?”

Severus opened his mouth to try and respond, his face flushing deep red, but remained silent. She placed her hands upon his thighs and lightly glided herself back and forth over his length, biting her lip and letting out a high pitched sigh each time the head of his cock brushed right there.

“Mm-mm, Eleanor…” Severus’ eyes rolled back in pleasure from the gentle brushing motions, feeling himself throbbing with want as she sickened his length with her own arousal, “Please…”

“You mean…” she raised herself a little higher and teased the head of his cock around her entrance, biting her lip as she gazed over her shoulder. She watched with wide, lustful eyes as his expression changed, eyes still closed with his mouth wide open and eyebrows knitted together.

“Ugh, yes…” he nodded shakily, squeezing his eyes shut tighter as she sat over him completely, “Fuck, yes…”

“Mm, Severus, your cock…” her words trailed off as she adjusted to the size of him.

Severus leaned back on his hands and parted his lips, feeling himself going light headed already as she began to move over him. He let out jittery moans and allowed his eyes to fall shut again, trying to keep himself upright as her movements sped up.

“Oh, that’s nice,” he whimpered, raising one of his hands and bringing it in front of Eleanor, starting to massage his fingertips between her legs each time she bounced over him, his other hand kneading one of her breasts.

“Mmmhh… so is that…” Eleanor tilted her head back, her hair tickling his chest briefly before Severus lifted his head again to press his lips to her temple.

Eleanor bit her lip and moaned out his name several times, earning multiple throbs from his cock in response to how much more it turned him on. After a few long moments, she turned her head to press their lips together, both of them reuniting in a desperately urgent kiss.

The room soon became full with the sound of their bodies repeatedly slotting together and grunting and groaning into each other’s mouthes over the noise of her dresser slamming against the stone wall. Severus felt his eyes rolling back in pleasure and their kisses becoming even more sloppy as a result; though still not allowing his fingers to stop moving against her as she bounced over his length.

Severus’ shoulder blades could've cracked the glass in the mirror on her dresser from the intensity of their motions and he felt his body becoming sticky with sweat, not even caring that his hand was hurting from his consistent motions or that his calves were burning from the way he was trying to hold himself up. He knew his self-control wasn't the best in regards to trying to hold off his climax for as long as he hoped, but something about this position mixed with the knowing that he was also making her feel good was taking him to another level. He could hear the blood pulsating in his ears, let alone his cock. If it wasn't for his pride, he would just lean back and let himself come apart right there and then.

“Mm, carry on like that and you're gonna make me…” his sentence ended with a moan rather than words, feeling the fire in his stomach flickering like crazy.

“Make you?” Eleanor smirked, kissing him harshly once more and grinding over him in harder movements.

“Cum, fuck!” He gasped, his thighs tensing as his cock throbbed madly from her sudden changed in speed.

“Mm-mm,” she shook her head and broke away from the kiss completely. As much as she could have happily stayed enjoying his surprisingly expert fingers, she also reached down and pulled his hand away before hopping off him all together, “No.”

“N…No?!” Severus’ eyes opened immediately, his face completely flushed as he remained slouched against the dresser with an aching, slippery cock pointing toward his navel, “What do you mean ’no’?! What did I do?!” he asked frantically and out of breath — it was taking everything in him not to reach down to finish himself off with his own hand, not even caring if the sticky result ended all over her floor or himself.

”I want you to take a long, hard,” her eyes flickered to his angrily pulsating cock, “think about how you spoke to me earlier.” she sat down on the bed and leaned back on her hands, trailing her eyes up and down his body.

“Oh, what?” Severus narrowed his eyebrows, groaning slightly.

“Don’t ‘what’ me, Severus Snape,” Eleanor shot him a stern look, trying to mask the devil underneath, “You know what you did, what you said… and now you just expect me to forgive you and let you cum? I don't think so.”

Severus dropped to his knees in front of the dresser and winced, half in pain from his knees hitting the floor and half in pain from his throbbing, uncared for arousal, “What… do I have to do?” he asked in a desperate whimper.

“An apology would be nice…” Eleanor shrugged casually, leaning back on her hands and crossing her legs.

“I’m sorry!” he responded immediately, his eyes falling down to her bare legs.

“How sorry?” Eleanor smirked, enjoying now having the upper hand.

“So sorry…” Severus pleaded, literally crawling on his hands and knees, sweaty black hair hanging over his face, cock bouncing against his stomach, “So, so sorry.”

“Mm… and?” Eleanor uncrossed her legs and licked her bottom lip, parting them.

“It won't happen again.” Severus’ voice jittered, raising himself up on his knees and losing his breath from the sight of her nude body this close; much to his request the majority of their intimate moments had previously been spent in the dark because he was so ashamed and self conscious about his body.

He leaned forward and placed a hand on either of her knees, leaning in and brushing his lips against her parted thighs. Eleanor let out a soft moan and tilted her head back, lacing her fingers in his hair and tugging at it lightly each time his lips moved higher. Severus felt his cock aching for some attention and reached down with one of his hands, loosely jerking it up and down. He thought he was being subtle, but the muffled moan he let out against her inner thigh blew his cover.

“Mm, what are you doing down there?” Eleanor asked lazily, enjoying the feeling of his lips against her bare skin, “That’s nice, Professor…”

“I…” he felt his cheeks burning up again, pausing against her skin momentarily to speak, “I need something, too…” he admitted, feeling his length twitch in his grip.

“You better not be touching yourself, Severus.” Eleanor spoke with her head still tilted back.

“N…no…” Severus’ voice came out more strangled and less convincing.

“Come up here,” she finally raised her head, dropping her arms by her sides and having to tear her eyes away from his moving hand, “Don’t lie to me, Severus,” she arched a brow as their eyes met, “I know what you sound like.”

“Wh—what I sound like?” Severus questioned, gazing up at her.

“When you're about to lose it,” she leaned down to peck his lips, “and bust.”

“But I need to…” Severus groaned, raising himself up properly and kissing her back.

“No, you need to learn that your actions,” she said, guiding him onto the bed and onto his back with a hand pushing his chest, “have consequences.”

“My what,” he blinked hard, watching in awe as she climbed on top of him, “have what?”

“You heard me.” she smirked, teasing a fingertip all the way up the underside of his cock and lingering with a little more pressure underneath the head.

“Oh, for fuck…” he began to complain before the index finger on her other hand pressed against his lips.

“No complaining,” she shook her head, taunting the tip of his cock with her finger now by stretching out a string of precum, “just compliance.”

Severus shivered, his cock almost having a mind of its own at this point as it jolted against her finger.

“Understood?” she tilted her head, bringing her finger away from his lips.

“Understood.” he nodded quickly, staring up at her with wide, wanting eyes.

“Good,” she smiled sweetly and lifted his cock up completely, “then you won't mind if I do this.”

Severus’ eyes rolled back in pleasure as she sat over him again, placing her hands against his chest. Eleanor watched him for a few moments as she started to move, but then her own eyes soon closed from the sought after feeling. She pressed down on his chest a little harder as her movements sped up, narrowing her eyebrows and moaning in sync with him.

“Fucking Christ, that feels good…” Severus’ mouth hung open, pushing his hips up slightly in an attempt to feel even more.

“Mm, stop pushing,” Eleanor prodded his chest gently, “I tell you when you can let go.”

Severus whined, though he was in far too much pleasure to complain about it. He had gone from always having to be in control, to being controlled — and loving absolutely every second of it.

Eleanor leaned down and pressed their lips together, still circling her hips over him.

“Am I allowed to touch?” Severus asked against her lips, his hands itching to move from his sides.

Eleanor kissed him deeply for a few more moments before speaking softly, “You may.”

Severus’ fingertips immediately traced down her back and then gripped onto her bottom, moaning out her name several times as the kiss grew more and more passionate.

“I…. I can't…” Severus panted against her lips, his hands trembling against her bottom.

“Mm, you can, Severus,” Eleanor breathed out seductively, finding it hard to hold back her own moans at this point, “Remember that self control, hm?”

“No,” Severus responded quickly, feeling his black, greasy hair now sticking to his forehead as the flames of bliss climbed his body faster than his brain could compute, “No!” his eyebrows narrowed, having to pause the kiss momentarily as he let out a loud moan, “Oh, fuck, please let me…!”

“Mmmmh, Professor Snape begging to cum?” Eleanor nearly lost it herself from just the thought, “I never thought I'd see the day…” she pressed a harsh kiss to his lips before whispering, “or night.”

Severus’ eyes automatically opened when he felt her body raise up off his chest and he watched her breasts bouncing, tempted and longing to reach up and touch them but knowing that he didn't have the strength to do anything right now — it was like she was controlling every inch of him. Eleanor’s nails scratched down his chest, her head tilting back in pleasure and eventually raising her arms behind her with her eyes tightly shut. Severus’ back arched slightly, unsure how long he could hold back before groaning loudly as Eleanor purposely slowed down her hips, smirking widely to herself as she felt his body react beneath her immediately.

“No, stop!” he pleaded, red in the face.

“What, you want me to stop completely?” Eleanor asked, playing dumb.

“No!” he groaned in frustration, “stop… stopping!”

“Oh, you want me to… move?” she asked, gazing down at him as she began to circle her hips again.

“Yes…” he growled from the back of his throat, feeling his body relax again as she began to bounce over him properly, “Yes, like that!”

Eleanor’s head hung back in pleasure and Severus just about managed to rest his hands upon her thighs, rubbing them up and down shakily as his own started to tense. His eyes squeezed shut and rolled back, feeling the point of no return growing even closer.

“Fuck, Severus…” Eleanor gasped, her hands now flat against his chest again as she felt herself tensing around his continuously pulsing cock, “C—Cum for me, Severus, because I’m…”

“Agh! Fuck! Eleanor!” Severus bellowed in three separate exclamations, his back arching fully as his taunted climax shot out of him in hot, stringy spurts.

“Mmh!” Eleanor continued to bounce over him, riding out her own orgasm as their moans filled the room.

The two of them writhed together, panting heavily and making the bed almost have a life of its own beneath them. Eleanor’s hands reached down to briefly brush against Severus’ still against her thighs and they both gradually opened their eyes, sighing softly.

“Mmm… thank you….” were the only words Severus could muster at that moment.

“What for?” Eleanor tilted her head to the side, enjoying seeing him in this afterglow state.

“Letting me…” he grunted, trying to gesture with his hands instead of saying the words.

“Letting you…?” Eleanor bit her lip to hide a grin.

“You know.” Severus’ lip twitched, finding it hard, perhaps even embarrassing, to say the words.

“Cum?” she arched a brow, enjoying this a little too much.

“M…hm.” Severus nodded once, not even being able to look at her.

“What, once you've had your way all the dirty talk goes out of the window?” she teased, rolling off him and trying to brush her hair back into place with her hands.

“Don’t…” he shot her an unamused look, feeling the sweat glistening on the front of his body.

“Well, if you've really gone back to being so prude already, then I guess you won't mind if I go and shower…” she shrugged casually getting off the bed.

Severus glanced over, out of breath and still feeling too physically weak to do anything else, watching as she stepped toward her bathroom and her voice then being the only thing left in the room as she said, “Unless you would care to join? You know, save on the water and all that.”

-

Thank you so much for reading this first instalment of 'Severus Snape and the Human Condition'! I am aware I haven't written Snape properly since last Christmas, so I hope it was worth the wait 🤣 I'm so looking forward to this little ongoing project and exploring different sides to our beloved Professor 🫶 please let me know what you think, and if you have any ideas please feel free to comment or submit them! ♥️

MASSIVE shoutout and thank you to @fafodill for giving me the boost in confidence I needed whenever I didn’t think I was getting anywhere with this story — your help has not gone unnoticed! 🫶

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@benedict-cbe @bratty-tingz @speedycupcakepaper @hamiltonstann (continued in comments 🥰)

[muiitoloko]

Hii! I absolutely love your Frank stories!

I was wondering if I could request a Frank x younger/reader? Maybe something like lazy morning sex, a domestic vibe, where Frank has the day off and you both get to sleep in and just enjoy the morning together⛅️☺️

Thank you so much! I love your writing!👏✨💕💕💕

Title: Hold the Line

Summary: Frank tries to ignore his morning wood like any good soldier, until your thighs welcome him like a warm order. And this time, he follows instinct, not protocol.

Pairing: Frank Benson × Fem! Reader

Also read on Ao3

You moaned softly, your breath catching as warm fingers found your breast under the sheets. The squeeze was firm, possessive—familiar. A thick arm lay heavy around your waist, the solid heat of Frank’s body pressing against your back. His chest rose and fell slow against your shoulder blades, and his nose was buried in your hair, breath steady but coarse with sleep.

“Frank,” you murmured, voice still thick with slumber, lids barely parting. “Shouldn’t you be in the army?”

There was a grunt behind you—low, hoarse, unmistakably amused.

“Day off,” he rasped, the baritone in his voice heavier, grainier in the morning. “Can stay in bed later.”

You gave a soft hum, already drifting again. His hand stayed where it was, large and warm over your breast, thumb brushing lazily across your nipple through the worn fabric of his t-shirt. You were wearing nothing underneath. You rarely did when sleeping beside him.

Frank exhaled slowly. You didn’t see the way his hazel eyes blinked open, half-lidded and fogged with sleep, or the twitch of his mouth as he glanced down at where your bodies met—your ass nestled perfectly against his hips, your back pressed to his belly.

He was hard.

That wasn’t new. Morning wood was common enough. Normally, he ignored it. Got up, showered cold, dressed, and got on with his day. The discipline of routine had been beaten into him for decades. He didn’t indulge morning lust.

But today?

He was off duty. No briefings. No video calls. No protocol. And you were warm, soft, half-naked, and breathing slowly against him like you trusted him more than gravity.

Frank groaned softly, trying to shift without waking you—but his cock throbbed at the friction, nudging between the curve of your thighs.

Fuck.

He could get up. Cold water. Coffee. Order restored.

Or…

He could press his hips forward just slightly, his cock sliding between your legs, not in but close—so close. The wet heat of you made him hiss.

Still half-asleep, you stirred, a sleepy noise falling from your lips as your ass rocked back against him instinctively. The movement wasn’t calculated—just instinctual, subconscious—but it made Frank's breath stutter.

“You awake?” he murmured into your hair, voice gravel and smoke.

“Mmm,” you mumbled, not really.

He nuzzled the back of your neck, his hand sliding down your stomach now, fingertips brushing low, until they dipped between your thighs and found you slick—already wet despite the haze of sleep.

Frank closed his eyes. Christ.

“You’re wet,” he murmured, almost to himself. “You want it, don’t even know it yet.”

You made a sound that was equal parts protest and invitation, your hips shifting, thighs parting just a little more. Your eyes still didn’t open.

Frank smirked lazily against your skin. “Fuck it,” he muttered, voice low and hungry.

He lowered his boxers just enough to free his cock, the familiar weight of it slapping gently against your ass. His old friend stood tall and curious—surprisingly eager for a man his age, though Frank knew better than to take that for granted.

“Don’t betray me today,” he muttered under his breath, wrapping a firm hand around himself, stroking slow. “Just hold the line, yeah? One morning. That’s all I’m asking.”

His thumb slid over the slick head, gathering precum as he pressed his hips forward, not enough to enter you, just enough to nestle his cock between your warm thighs. He groaned low at the sensation—the tight press of your legs, the heat of your cunt brushing his shaft with every lazy grind.

You were still barely awake, half-lost in that honey-thick fog of morning warmth and body heat. Your cheek rested against the pillow, mouth parted slightly, lashes fluttering but not opening. And yet your hips tilted instinctively, as though your body remembered his even if your mind hadn’t yet joined the conversation.

Frank grinned against your shoulder, dragging his cock between your slick folds, not pressing in—just teasing, fucking the space between your thighs with unhurried strokes. He didn’t want to rush. Not today.

He dipped his head to your ear, his baritone rich and sinful. “You don’t even know how good you feel, do you?” he murmured. “Could just lie here, slide between these thighs all day... fuck you without waking you... lazy and slow…”

You whimpered softly in your sleep, legs twitching, your thighs squeezing around him.

“Or,” he whispered, lips brushing your skin, “you could wake up. Climb on top. Ride me slow. Let me stay right here, flat on my back, while you do all the work.”

He rutted gently between your legs, notching the head of his cock just barely against your entrance, letting you feel it without committing.

“I’ll keep my hands on your hips,” he promised, his voice gravel-thick with arousal, “guide you nice and easy. You’ll sit down on my cock like a good girl. Let it stretch you out all over again. You want that, sweetheart?”

You stirred at last, a soft groan slipping from your lips as you rolled onto your back, then further—turning to face him, still bleary-eyed but smiling.

Your hair was a wild mess, your cheeks flushed with heat, and Frank thought you looked like trouble incarnate. Then again, he’d never minded a bit of trouble.

“Lazy bastard,” you mumbled, voice hoarse with sleep. “You just want to lie there.”

“I earned it,” he said, eyes twinkling beneath heavy lids. “You wore me out last night.”

You bit your lip, then slowly swung one leg over him, straddling his hips. The worn fabric of his t-shirt slid up your thighs, baring you to him as you settled into place.

Frank hissed softly when you reached down, lined him up, and began to sink down—inch by slow inch—onto his cock. Your breath hitched at the stretch, your walls fluttering around him, still sore from the night before, still not used to the sheer thickness of him even now.

“Still burns,” you whispered, biting your lip.

Frank groaned, gripping your hips as he helped ease you lower, his baritone rough and soothing. “I know. You’re tight. You always are.”

You whimpered, sinking down until he was fully sheathed inside you, your thighs trembling with the effort, your fingers splayed over his chest for balance.

Frank cupped your jaw, guiding your gaze to his. “Take your time,” he murmured, his hazel eyes burning into yours. “I’ve got nowhere to be but here. Just like this.”

You nodded, moving slowly, rolling your hips in lazy circles, each drag of your cunt around his cock sending a ripple of pleasure through both of you.

His head fell back, a groan rising deep from his chest. “Jesus Christ… that’s it. Ride it, baby. Just like that.”

You moved with a sleepy rhythm, your breath catching each time you bottomed out, your body shivering with the sensitivity of overstimulation and the thrill of it all—of being filled by him again and again, like it was your first time all over.

You slowed down even more, your hips rolling in a languid, teasing circle, milking every inch of him with the kind of patience Frank didn't have.

He grunted beneath you, his hands flexing against your thighs, and you could feel it—the warning. That telltale shift in his breath, the slight narrowing of his hazel eyes, the tension coiling through his belly like a man trying very hard not to snap.

“Frank,” you purred, dragging your nails gently over his chest. “We’ve got all morning. You in a rush, old man?”

He exhaled roughly through his nose. “Don’t push me.”

But you did.

You leaned forward, lips brushing his ear, your hair spilling over your shoulder like silk, and whispered, “You’re gonna come faster if I do it like this.” Your hips rolled again—slow, wicked—your cunt clenching around him on every downward stroke. “Your cock’s already twitching.”

Frank growled low in his throat, his hands sliding under your thighs and gripping you firmly. Then, with one brutal thrust upward and a flex of his arms, he started moving you faster—dragging you up and down his cock with none of the laziness you were playing at. The slap of your thighs meeting his echoed through the room.

“Frank—!” you gasped, laughing breathlessly. “You’re gonna blow—”

He grunted. He knew it was true. Goddammit, he could feel it coming on already, his balls tight, that traitorous heat spiraling too fast in his gut. Age. Betrayal. The body that once obeyed military precision now kneeling before your pussy like a whipped dog.

“You want me to come already, don’t you?” he rasped, his baritone fraying with effort, sweat prickling at his temples. “Want to watch me lose it.”

You grinned down at him, flushed and wicked. “Maybe I should pick up some blue pills next time I’m at the pharmacy. What do you think? They sell those over the counter?”

Frank froze.

Then, without a word, he gripped your waist, flipped you onto your back in one swift, practiced motion, and hauled your legs around his hips. The sudden movement knocked the wind from your lungs, but you only laughed again—until his cock slammed back inside you, hard and unforgiving.

“Fuck—!” you cried, your back arching.

“You think that’s funny?” Frank growled, his baritone rough and dangerous, hips snapping forward again, each thrust punishing. “Think I need help to fuck you properly?”

You whimpered, eyes rolling back as he fucked you deep, each drag of his cock pushing your body higher up the bed. The headboard creaked against the wall. The t-shirt you wore was bunched around your waist now, your bare breasts bouncing with every slam of his hips.

He leaned over you, his white hair falling over his forehead, his mouth just beside your ear. “Say it again,” he rasped. “Say I need pills. See what happens.”

You moaned, wrapping your arms around his back, your fingers sliding down until they gripped his ass—full and firm, a little soft, perfect for leverage. You shoved his boxers further down, past his thighs now, groaning as you forced him deeper.

“God, Frank—so deep—”

“That’s right,” he growled, bracing one hand beside your head, the other gripping your hip so tight it would bruise. “You wanted to take your time. Now you take what I give you.”

And he gave it.

Hard. Deep. The bed rocked beneath you, his chest slick with sweat against yours, his breath hot and uneven as he drove into you like he had something to prove. You could feel it now—the stretch of him, the raw, dragging pleasure, the tremble of his muscles as he forced his body to keep pace.

Your legs were shaking, your nails clawing his back, and your voice was high and broken. “Frank—Frank—please—I’m—”

“I know,” he gritted, his baritone near a snarl. “Come for me. Come while I fuck the smug out of you.”

You screamed as your orgasm slammed through you, your pussy clenching around him, soaking him, and still he didn’t stop—not until your body was limp, your sobs muffled against his shoulder, your cunt pulsing weakly around him.

Only then did Frank let go, groaning low in your ear as he spilled inside you, thick and hot, buried to the hilt.

He stayed there a moment—heavy, panting, unmoving—before finally pulling back enough to look at you.

You were a mess. Flushed, sweating, eyes glazed and lips swollen.

“Still think I need pills?” he asked, breathless.

You blinked slowly, chest heaving. “…maybe just for me.”

Frank barked a laugh, shaking his head as he leaned down and kissed you—slow, claiming, satisfied.

“Menace,” he muttered.

But you both knew the truth.

You’d never need those pills. Not with him.

Frank groaned and rolled onto his back, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he pulled the sheet halfway up his chest. His white hair was ruffled, flattened in places, and his hazel eyes blinked blearily at the ceiling. One arm draped lazily over his face, shielding him from the morning light creeping through the curtain’s edge.

You turned your head toward him, still breathless, body tingling in the aftermath of everything he’d just done to it. Your thighs ached in the best way, your core still slick and sore, and the t-shirt you wore clung damply to your back. But that didn’t stop you from poking his side with a single finger, grinning.

“No, no,” you said, your voice still scratchy with sleep and sex. “Don’t you dare fall asleep again, old man.”

Frank exhaled a long-suffering sigh, his voice muffled under his forearm. “Why not?”

“Because,” you said, poking him again, “it’s your turn to make breakfast.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t even flinch.

“Frank,” you warned, drawing out the vowel like a threat.

His arm slid off his face slowly, his hazel eyes half-lidded as he looked over at you with all the enthusiasm of a man being drafted into a war. “Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll do it. Later.”

You raised a brow. “No. Now.”

He blinked once. “We sleep first.”

“I’m hungry.”

“You’re insatiable.”

You grinned. “And you’re in charge of feeding me.”

Frank huffed and turned onto his side, curling an arm around your waist again, pulling you flush against his belly. “You can survive half an hour,” he murmured, his baritone thick with drowsy amusement. “Go back to sleep. You’ll forget you’re hungry.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Yes, you will.”

You wriggled slightly in his grip, just enough to make your point. “Frank.”

His voice was dangerously soft. “Sweetheart.”

You opened your mouth, ready to protest again—then he cut in, voice still low, still half-asleep, but undeniably smug:

“I could give you something with protein,” he murmured into your hair. “High in calcium. Comes straight from the source.”

You blinked.

It took you a full second before the implication clicked—and then you gasped, scandalized, your hand flying to his chest as you smacked him. “Frank Benson!”

He burst out laughing, a low, rumbling sound from deep in his chest, rough and hoarse and utterly delighted.

“Dirty old man,” you scolded, trying not to smile.

His arm tightened around your waist, dragging you even closer. “Military man, honey,” he said, still chuckling. “Every military man knows a dirty joke or two.”

You snorted against his skin. “That’s not a joke. That’s a war crime.”

Frank laughed harder. “Might be, considering how loud you were last night. I should court-martial myself.”

You groaned, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “I can’t believe I let you touch me.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his breath warm. “You begged.”

You glared up at him. “I was sleep-deprived.”

“You were dripping.”

“You’re impossible.”

He grinned and pulled the blanket tighter over you both, his baritone soft and smug in your ear. “And you love it.”

You huffed. “I tolerate it.”

But you didn’t pull away. You settled into his chest instead, your leg slung over his thigh, your hand resting on his belly where the sheet had slid down.

A moment passed. Then another.

Frank was almost asleep again when you whispered, deadpan:

“…Still hungry.”

Frank groaned. “Christ.”

But ten minutes later, you were in the kitchen, seated on the counter, wearing only his t-shirt, while Frank stood in front of the stove, shirtless, hair a mess, muttering under his breath as he flipped bacon with all the precision of a man disarming a bomb.

“Don’t say it,” he warned without looking back.

You smirked. “Say what?”

“You’re about to make a joke about my ‘special milk,’ and I swear to God—”

You burst into laughter, ducking behind a coffee mug. Frank turned, spatula in hand, and narrowed his eyes.

“Menace.”

“Old man.”

And the kitchen filled with the scent of breakfast—and the sound of laughter.

[maxdibert]

Severus is aware that he’s talented, that he has a brilliant mind, that he’s intelligent, and that he’s a powerful wizard, but even so, it would never in a million years occur to him that someone could feel even the slightest bit attracted to him. The mere idea of someone saying, “Hey Snape, I think X likes you,” would first make him laugh hysterically out of sheer shock and irony, and then make him absolutely furious, because clearly that person must be messing with him like how could anyone possibly be even remotely attracted to him? It has to be a joke.

[starlight-sev]

SFW Alphabet (Severus Snape)

To try and get back in the habit of writing more regularly, I thought I'd give this a try. Enjoy!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Severus is honestly pretty bad at showing affection at first. Not because it makes him uncomfortable, but because he's just never really experienced it before. It takes a while for him to learn from your own displays of affection, but once he gets the hang of it, he's like your own personal shadow (although he still won't do PDA).

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Becoming friends with Severus as teenagers at Hogwarts would be different from befriending him as adults. I think it would definitely be easier to earn his trust if the two of you knew each other when you were younger. He'd definitely be harder to connect with as an adult, but if you continued to show that he could trust you, he'd be unquestionably loyal as a best friend.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He'd never admit it of course, but he loves it. Especially after a long day, either on the couch or in bed. He wouldn't really have a preference of how you cuddled, as long as he was able to hold you. I think it would be really grounding for him to be able to hold you in his arms, and cuddling would be something that Severus really valued.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

I don't think Severus would want to settle down until after the war -- mostly to not put you in danger. He'd try his best to not entertain the idea and get his own hopes up in fear of losing everything good that he has, including you. Only after the war would he finally allow himself to consider settling down with you. He'd also take a liking to cooking, seeing how similar it is to Potions. He's good at cleaning, except when it comes to his own workspace. It's organized chaos there.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Due to events in his past, Severus wouldn't be the best at breaking up. Ideally, if he's dating someone, it's for the long run. He's made his choice very carefully and he knows it's not something he can back out of lightly. One of the only situations I feel he'd break up with you is if your life was in danger as a result of him being associated with the Death Eaters. He'd most likely disappear out of your life overnight like a ghost, with nothing but a letter to let you know the reasoning behind his decision.

I still he'd still try to look for you in the future though, just to make sure you were okay.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

I feel like this is similar to the domesticity one earlier. Severus is in no rush to get married, mainly because why on earth would anyone want to marry him? It's a subject he can't seem to wrap his head around, and I think it would take some time living together in safety for him to see that he really does want to take that next step and marry you.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

I know I've mentioned this in previous posts, but Alan Rickman once said in an interview that he envisioned Severus as someone who never raises his voice. I stand by that, and I think that would translate to physical touch too. He's always gentle with you, as if he's worried that at any moment, you might break.

Emotionally, it's a bit of a different story. He's still trying to learn that he's safe, and that you won't leave suddenly. Sometimes he can be colder than he means to be, but overtime you'll melt his heart.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

You have no idea how touch starved Severus is. He’d never admit it, but he adores your hugs. He often holds your embrace for as long as he can, almost trying to memorize the way your arms wrap so effortlessly around him. He doesn’t often initiate hugs, but he’d never turn away from one offered.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Severus really isn't good with this sort of thing, so you'll see this translated more through his actions than his words. Making your favourite breakfast in the morning, taking a day off to spend with you after you'd had a bad day, holding you when he sees you need comfort without you needing to even ask, that sort of thing.

He'll always respond if you tell him you love him, though it might feel foreign to him at first. He's a bit more comfortable with it if you initiate.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Don't even get me started. Severus trusts you, but he doesn't trust other people. If he were to walk into a room and see you talking with someone else, especially if it were someone he didn't like from the start, he'd be right there in an instant. He'd place a hand on the small of your back, both to show who held your heart as well as to make sure you knew you were protected.

Once the two of you were alone, though, he'd make sure you knew you were his.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

I think it really depends on what the mood is. Sometimes his kisses are soft and reserved, as if you're made of glass and could crack at any moment, and other times it's as if you're his very lifeline.

I think he'd be quite fond of neck kisses, both giving and receiving.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

I think being around children reminds him too much of his work. Spending time with kids, and not in a teaching setting either, isn't something I can ever see him voluntarily wanting to do.

That being said, I think his heart would melt a little if he saw you with kids, if you liked them of course. He'd enjoy watching you interact with them more than he'd enjoy being with them himself.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings are quiet and calm. Seveus is usually the first one awake, but he'd have your favourite drink ready to go by the time you wake up. He doesn't speak too much in the mornings, but he's content to just be in your presence. Sometimes he'll rest his hand over yours during breakfast, just to remind himself that you're real.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Whether it's sharing a drink before bed, or curling up together by the fire, I think Severus would always want to be close to you physically at night. Lots of soft touches, forehead kisses, things to keep him centred and grounded with you.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

I think if you got to know Severus as a young student, he'd share a lot with you in a short amount of time. I don't think he'd be aware of it though, given that he's never really had an outlet for all the things that happened throghout childhood.

Later on though, I think it would take him a long time to open up. It gets even more complicated when he's a double agent, because knowing too much could put your life at risk. I think you'd have to treat Severus like a riddle and use the pieces you witness to put his story together in full.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

There are only a few topics that set Severus off quite easily: his father, betrayal in general, and his commitment to Dumbledore.

He would never be angry at you though, unless it was something from the list above. Despite so many students being afraid of him, Severus does strangely have the patience of a saint... most of the time.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Severus remembers everything. I'm sure Legilimency has something to do with it, but he'll find a way to remember every detail especially when it comes to things that bring you joy, or your preferences.

He tries to forget his own past, so being able to remember details about you gives him a chance to give his mind a break from his own memories.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

When he realized you see him completely. Not just as someone to mock, or something to take your anger out on, or someone to use for their knowledge.

You see him for who he is, and when Severus finally realizes that for certain, a weight seems to drop off his shoulders. He'd live in your loving gaze for eternity, if he could.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

This man would sacrifice himself ten times over if it meant protecting you, and he wouldn't think twice about it. I don't think he'd let you protect him if he found out you were trying to -- if something were to happen to you in the process, he'd never forgive himself.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

I really feel like Severus would struggle with the concept of anniversaries at first. He never had adults in his life who set good examples and had a healthy relationship with each other. To him, it might as well be a story in a foreign language.

He'd be really good at the everyday things though, and I think that's because deep down he's got a gentle heart. Seeing you happy makes him feel safe and loved.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

I think the worst one is that he would shut down in conflict. His mind would jump to conclusions very quickly, and he'd go down some bad rabbit holes as a result.

Conflict resolution isn't exactly a strength of his, and I think it would take a lot of patience to properly talk through conflict with him once the intial emotions blow over. Every fight feels like the end of the world to him, and it'll take a lot of reassurance to let him know you're not going anywhere.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

I wouldn't say he's concerned in a vanity sense, more in an insecure way. You'll never see Severus actively fussing with his appearance, but his mind would be running a mile a minute about whether he looked presentable enough to you, whether or not he was still attractive to you, that sort of thing.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Severus once scoffed at the idea of having a soulmate. He didn't think it possible to ever feel as though he were incomplete without someone, because all his life he had been made to feel incomplete as-is. The longer he spends with you, the more he finally understands what it means to be whole.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

I think Severus is really good at reading body language. If you're in an uncomfortable situation, or upset and trying to hide it, he'll know right away. You barely need to speak what's on your mind, he'll know how you're feeling just by the way you open the door when you get home.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Very few things come to mind, but I don't think Severus would tolerate being someone who lies often. He needs stability from honesty, especially after what has happened in his past. I think he'd have a very low tolerance when it came to dishonesty in relationships.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He often struggles with insomnia, especially after the war, so I think he'd spend a lot of nights just lying awake and holding you. It keeps his mind from racing too much.

On good nights when he's able to get some sleep, though, I think the two of you might unconsciously shift so that you're the one holding him through the night. That extra comfort helps him stay asleep.

aaaa should i do the nsfw alphabet now

[multifandomfix]

The Spell You Cast - Severus Snape

Summary: The smell of Amortentia can change over time. And while teaching, Severus notices a difference in his own. Yet the new scent is familiar to him. Where has he smelled it before?

Word Count: 1,028

Warnings: A little light angst

Amortentia was perhaps the potion Severus most disliked. He didn’t even know why it was taught to students. To teach them patience and discipline, he supposed, since it took so long to brew. But he was of the opinion that love should not be manufactured, but freely given. Messing with one's heart was asking for trouble. And he’d not known any use of the vile potion to work out well in the end for any of its brewers, nor its victims. Best to keep away from it, and so he did. At least until he had to teach how it was made.

Amortentia's only positive quality, should you ask him, was its scent. It often induced pleasant smells that brought back beautiful memories to whomever deigned to take a whiff, but that aside, it held no other value to him. His had always smelled the same, and the memories attached to it were bittersweet on his best day.

The students were moderately well behaved when class begun, only a stray snide comment and a few snickers at the announcement of brewing the vexing love potion. He could have easily shut it down quickly with a stern word, but he didn’t altogether care what their opinions were on the potion itself, only on getting the lesson of its making over with.

As he brewed his own as an example, he felt like he could already smell the familiar scent bubbling up from the cauldron. Yet, as his demonstration progressed, he could have sworn the scent he knew so well had changed. It was subtle at first, lilies changing to another indistinct floral note. Fresh morning dew to vanilla. And tea. The scent of tea was brand new to him, at least where his amortentia was concerned.

He hoped his expression had remained neutral, despite the surprise. He’d not brewed the potion since last year, and perhaps he’d mistaken an ingredient. Unlike him, but everyone was prone to a slip up now and then, surely. If his face had registered any surprise, thankfully the students thought it best not to question it nor comment upon it, and he was left to his own devices at the end of the class period to figure out what had gone awry.

He’d checked his method and it was flawless as was expected. So that meant it was the potion itself that had changed its scent. But how, and when. He couldn’t fathom the reason for such a change after all these years. It wasn’t as if his tastes had changed. How perplexing.

Choosing to relegate the oddity to the back of his mind for the time being, Severus went about his day as was normal for him. Several more classes took up his day, and he remained thankful that only one class was working on the dreaded amortentia this semester. He didn’t think he could stand smelling the new fragrance of his own several more times that day.

Somehow, the smell lingered in his nostrils throughout the day, as if it were nagging him. It did smell familiar to him, but he’d been so struck by its difference to what he’d come to expect that he hadn’t realized the smell was indeed one he encountered fairly often. Where remained the only question.

He thought of his favorite shop, and the place on the Hogwarts campus that he most enjoyed, though neither of these locations possessed the smell that plagued him so. The people he spent the most time with, and those that he enjoyed the company of were ruled out as well. Minerva was more of an old books and catnip type.

The stern look of frustration mixed with concentration on Severus' face stopped you short as you were en route to pass him in the hallway. It was so terribly unlike him to linger in the halls when students were still passing through. You knew something must have been wrong. "Severus," you softly pressed. You reached your hand out in order to rest it on his shoulder, but instead you hovered, thinking better of it. You felt you were already likely to startle him.

Though he did not jump, he slowly met your eyes, bringing his own out of the middle distance he’d been apparently staring into prior to your arrival. "Are you alright," you asked of him.

"Quite so," he replied. He was not displeased to see you, but you were an unexpected surprise since he hadn’t seen you coming. "It has been an odd day is all," he confessed.

You nodded and gave him a sympathetic smile. "We all have those," you reassured, now placing your hand on his shoulder, thinking the reassurance would mean more with the gesture. You’d definitely had your fair share of days like that, and though it seemed out of place for Severus to have such a day, it stood to reason that he had them just as frequently as you yourself did, he just had a better way of hiding it when he did. Except for today, apparently.

Confident that he wasn’t in some form of distress that was unmanageable, you gave him one more soft smile and took your leave, heading for your classroom before your own students wondered what had kept you from arriving on time.

As you left, the small gust of wind in your wake left Severus with that same smell of tea, vanilla and flowers, precisely the way his amortentia now smelled. Eyes widening at the realization, he turned his head in your direction. It had indeed been last year when you’d started teaching at Hogwarts, filling in for a professor who had taken some leave and that was shortly after his last time brewing the potion. In that year, he’d fallen in love with you.

It was the only logical explanation. It was a frightening one to him, the prospect of finding someone again after everything that had happened all those years ago with Lily, but maybe his amortentia did have a use to him. It let him realize his feelings for you. And now it was up to him to decide if it was worth pursuing them.

For anon

Forever Tag: @borg-queer, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul

Severus Snape: @brienneseveruscalaway, @osterhagen, @darkthought15, @superninjapervert420, @meeksmusic83, @whither-the-wind-goes, @bluenystic, @sapphicprinc3ss, @eternal-silvertongued-prince, @demented-potions-master, @unexpected-character, @yourdailymemedelivery, @impulse-anchor, @ppgrayson, @thegirlwhoistrying, @bloodinthedarksworld, @gothtrash6969, @music-bird, @severusish, @chaotic-mushroomz, @caseydoodles98, @iciclesandsnow, @thenazwife, @phantomofclownery, @animeloverfreak310, @alloutnostalgia, @m-rae23, @asocialrandom, @404-its-alr, @beyondgaby, @scarlettmal