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nyx-greenwood99 · 6 days

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I bestow upon you a request that I will satiate the Worm for a bit:

Severus is feeling all pent up one day until he can't take it anymore. He cancels his last potions class of the day and makes you cancel yours as well (you feign illness). He eats you out and has his way with you on his desk (office or classroom, up to you!)

All hail the Worm. 🪱🍎

Laziness has taken ahold of me with the strength of a thousand suns. I'm in my head again. Gross.

All Hail The Worm 🫡🪱🍎

Severus Snape x Reader - Table Contents

Severus never had much time for himself. He was never fortunate enough to have the time or ability to do something spontaneously. There was always something occupying his time, ensuring that it was either bustling with activity or well-spent. A significant portion of this involved being Albus's guinea pig double agent, his own personal one-man suicide squad, which left him with little besides the frustration and stress that accumulated over time until it became visibly evident in his already sour demeanor.

He was fully aware of his actions and understood that as long as her son remained safe, it was a worthwhile endeavor. However, maintaining such rigorous schedules was mentally overwhelming. There was an overabundance of tasks that seemed never-ending.

Until finally, he'd had it.

The Ministry, the Order, Hogwarts duties, and anything related to Albus was overwhelming. His senses were exhausted, and his mind was flooded with a multitude of anxieties that he could no longer bear. Even the slightest sound, such as a quill dropping, could trigger him that day, let alone a hapless student who accidentally spilled more Standard Ingredient than necessary into his cauldron, ruining the entire assignment for himself. Gryffindor lost fifteen house points before the end of the class, but when the next group of sixth years arrived an hour later, they were greeted with the sight of a dismantled classroom, devoid of their Professor, without a single lesson plan, book, or anything else in sight.

One floor above in the Muggle Studies classroom, you were diligently engrossed in a book you had discovered at Tomes and Scrolls. You were meticulously examining the pages for any significant information when the door abruptly and unexpectedly opened, allowing Severus to enter with no more than a wave of his hand to slam the door shut just as swiftly.

Your eyes were trained on his frame as he crossed the room, quick to enter your office with a resolve you only ever saw in him just before a scolding or the like. The book was set aside, your hands clasped together watching him plant both of his own on the desk to lean closer.

"What have I done this time? Allegedly, of course." You queried with a playful smile.

"You've been injured during a demonstration of a dangerous muggle item." He said matter-of-factly. "Classes have been suspended. As far as the school knows, you will be spending the remainder of the evening under my care."

Now that, you'd yet to understand.

"A.. what? An injury?" You asked softly, uncertainty clear in your answer.

He nodded as if this was common knowledge. "An injury."

His hand reached for yours. Naturally you took it, promptly getting a feel for how his grip was far too tight. He looked tired, but that wasn't out of the ordinary. Restlessness was a given for him, you reminded yourself as you circled the desk to see him up close.

Most would be perturbed by such an age difference, not than anyone knew of our rendezvous in the first place, but to you it was.. exciting. Like you could be his spoilt little thing and snatch away that hot-headed composure of his all in one day and it'd be perfect all around.

"... And how exactly have I sustained such a drastic affliction?" You queried curiously. Your eyes went down to his neck to see him swallow hard.

His hand inched up your arm, hooked on the sleeve he pulled upward to bring it close, roll it up, and nibble at supple skin.

"Clumsiness." Was his answer.

Your brow quirked, two and two finally put together while he left a warm trail of love bites up your inner forearm.

".. Do you wanna talk about it?" You asked, reaching out to undo the very top button of his robes since he seemed to be having such a difficult time keeping himself in check.

The offer presented to him was rarely accepted. Severus was not known to be romantic, nor was he known to discuss personal matters, even with you. At times, it was a challenge to comprehend his thoughts and emotions, much less so his actions. However, when you gazed into his eyes, the profound depth of withheld emotionality within their shadowy depths.. that was sufficient. It would do for now.

A glimpse of his tongue came into view from the very edge of your vision before its warmth connected with your ear and neck's junction. You shivered when his hand wrapped around to tangle in stubborn locks and angle your head to his need.

Severus loved the reactions he could coax out of her, the way she stopped all attempts at questioning him when he touched any part of her skin with intent. In fact, that was his motive for coming up here in the first place. He wanted a break from his duties, from all the needless efforts and hopeless students. There was no point to teaching students who had no drive when he could learn about his sweet young thing. Her triggers, her needs, that spot just beneath the wiring of her bra that made her blush and look away with a shiver whenever he grabbed at it.

With her it was easy, untroubled, serene, and most importantly.. varied. He could do any number of things and she still might not crack, or he could do little more than ghost his knee up her thighs and she might moan. It was all a mystery to be learned by him, to be explored with his hands and mouth, and by God he wouldn't dare let that go to waste.

His hands were rough, pulling at your hair and breathing you in as he descended, pushing at contours of soft flesh to forge a path down your tummy, and when your backside hit the desk you gained an inkling of what he had in mind.

"Severus.." As his hand gently touched the hem of my skirt, you took a deep breath and paused. He looked up at you with a hazy gaze, a slight smile playing at the corners of his lips when you shuddered in amorous expectancy.

Slowly, he closed both fists around the bottom of the skirt and lifted, the fabric rising until you were fully exposed for him to see. Severus was wasting no time - not the small allowances of freedom he'd stolen for himself, and certainly not the things he could be doing to you right now.

Before you knew it he was lowered on his knees, guiding those perfect legs apart with steady hands, your body acting in turn to hop up on the desk.

And then he was delving into your eager core, lapping at your heat with slow strokes of his tongue that had your body melting into him. It was delectable, the wet sounds emitted only drowned out by your sweet, wavering moans. With every tantalizing lick and nip you couldn't help but make a sound, shaky hands closing around his head in desperation. You gave a few light bucks, your hips pressing further against his face, and in return he made a heated sound of his own. A muffled grunt (quieted by your trembling, aching thighs) left his lips. The vibrations from his drawls went through you like a fire, sending wave after wave of ecstacy up your tummy.

"S-Shit.." You shuddered, those tiny jerks and needy movements all Severus needed to spur him on.

"Quiet, dear." He pulled back just long enough to muttur before going back down on you faster, more fervently.

He ate you up like a young man starved, drinking your juices, the proof of your enjoyment, might make him whole once more. His tongue moved fast against your clit, down to your entrance with protruding licks, then back up again, a pattern he remembered very well after the very first time you came on his face.

"F-Fuck.. Severus-"

"- Quiet.." It was thoroughly enunciated this time, and left no room for argument. Not toward him.

The longer it went on the closer you got to cumming, especially when he found a rhythm that had you panting and tensing up with every touch. You clung to his head, your back arching slightly, that familiar pressure building in your middle. The nearer it came, the more you shook under his attentive ministrations, and in turn the tighter he gripped you to keep you still.

But even then he couldn't stop your whimpering jerks, or how your beautiful voice got a little higher with each throaty plea.

Soon after, you let out a broken cry, grinding your hips against his eagerly lapping mouth, his crooked nose nudging your clit and intensifying every wave of your orgasm as sweet nectar rolled out of you and onto his waiting tongue.

Then he was pulling back up, and in your afterglowed daze you heard the sound of a belt buckle just before his leaking tip pressed against your still-throbbing pussy.

You hardly had time to catch your breath, much less so register him putting one of your legs up on his shoulder, so when he pushed in and started fucking you stupid all you could do was grab ahold of his arms and moan.

He was not gentle this time, no build up or tender kisses to go along with slow thrusts. No, this was a frenzied fuck. A need. A carnate sense of pleasure he was chasing with everything he had.

"We'll get caught if you don't.. hah-.. restrain yourself." He groaned quietly, a warning given through heavy breaths and delicious grunts, his cock sliding in and out of your gratifying cunt like it was made for him.

You just held onto him tighter and let your head fall back against the desk.

"Ooh, god.." You whined, your eyes closed and brows furrowed, unable to breathe without it coming out as some high-pitched depravity. "Yes, yes yes-"

Your sultry praises were interrupted by a hand coming down on your mouth, clamped tight across your entire jaw to stop your senseless ramblings. "Shut.. up." His voice muttured in a pressing rasp, low and whispered in between ramped up bucks.

His sudden increase in speed only made it more difficult to keep quiet, your muffled whines coming out as mewls that burst free with every buck he gave. You could feel your desk scraping the cobbled floor the harder he went, and in those short moments when you forced yourself to breathe, you could hear it, too. You would've smiled about it - chuckled even - if it weren't for the fact that he was now going so hard he was hitting your cervix, and you were sure he'd found the pace at which he might get out his frustrations.

A piss poor attempt to pull at his hand told you he was lost in the moment, testing his limits, maybe seeing just how hard he could go before he absolutely had to cum.

Maybe that was why he ate you out beforehand. Perhaps he knew what he'd be doing right after, what he'd be going for on that very desk on which you laid atop, the papers underneath you, the book beside you long forgotten as he railed you silly.

"Mm-.. m, mm-"

Anything you tried to say came out useless, unintelligible nonsense amidst the sound of skin slapping skin and Severus's heavy breathing. How he managed to keep from moaning was beyond you, what with one hand clamped over your loud mouth, the other holding your leg still where it laid on his shoulder, and his cock pistoning into your throbbing heat like an animal.

"J-.. a little more, you silly girl," he offered the slightest sympathy, the words spewed out between sporadic humps. He turned his head to place a breathless kiss against your bent, quivering leg.

You held his wrist tighter the more uneven his thrusts became, until finally he groaned deeply once, then again, before burying every inch of himself to the hilt and emptying his cock of its hot ropes of cum, the thick substance coating both his length and your walls in hot spurts as his grunts turned to languid moans.

By the time he was finished, you were both beaded with sweat, satisfied and aching in all the right places.

As soon as he was able, he was helping to get you sat up, brushing now unruly hair back out of your face and adjusting your skirt to recover you.

"Are you alright?" He asked quietly, a tinge of concern flashing in his worn out gaze.

"Mhm," you nodded, your forehead finding its resting spot where your leg used to be on his shoulder. "You?"

"Much better." He sighed with a nod, raking cqreful fingers through your messy, tangled hair.

Admittedly, he felt bad for being so rough with you, especially with no explanation, but as long as you were okay right now he could handle getting you some sort of apology gift (or maybe a thank you gift?) later.

For now, he was content to simply hold you, to whisper sweet nothings in your ear while you played with the endless line of buttons on his robes and worked to finally catch your breath.

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nyx-greenwood99 · 10 days

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Stubbornness and patience are the two things required to be with Snape. (And I believe a little bit of temper too, that man needs to argue sometimes to let off steam)

In continuation of the 'pillow prince/ss/' topic.. Snape sex hcs? I remember you said it's basically impossible to drag him into bed but I'D TRY.

You're just spoiling me, aren'tcha? First Remus now Sev... Severus Snape is devoted to duty. Its the only thing holding him together. How often does he even go to bed…? A full-time teacher, a spy, a death eater, Dumbledore's dark little knight - He probably considers the time he spends marking 'rest enough'.

His self-esteem is dead. So dead he has come to terms with its corpse and uses it as protection. He's been teased his entire life for his looks. By his parents, by his schoolmates, by his teachers, by his cult, by his students... He's proud of how it has hardened him. It's become part of his ego: He's heard it all before - and now the words run off his oily feathers like raindrops.

Having someone say they think him anything less than hideous? Baffling. But while Remus would become a flustered mess... I think Severus would stages-of-grief it. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression… Because his romantic, affectionate side is also a corpse. It died alongside his best friend and he's spent the last decade-and-a-half making sure it stays buried.

To bring it back? That will take a stubborn dedication that rivals his. It takes grit and damn near necromancy. He will fight back, too - because to raise it from the dead is to raise Lily along with it. That is the greatest hurdle: Best friend or love of his life - either way she was the only person he has been affectionate with. He will need to digest that. He hasn't worked through his grief yet, because it is a difficult thing to work through alone. …but he CAN reach Acceptance.

One step, one stage at a time - peeling down each layer of his onion, like an ogre... Things move slowly with Severus - and in the opposite order you might expect. I guess I will go through what a relationship would be like with Severus, in a sorta dot-point fanfic format:

First note: He is allergic to showing weakness - and what he considers a weakness can be... strange. Indulgence. Emotions, affection, touch, company - he has no time for that garbage. He is in control of himself, of his body, of his feelings, of his life. Meticulous, complete control. This man 'tops' exclusively**

He is ashamed of masturbation. It means he has lost control of his emotions - and it grinds against his ego like sandpaper. He almost never does it. Thinking about anyone in particular when doing it is an insult to them - and he hates feeling guilty. He keeps it simple and almost self-harmingly dry. He has more important things to be doing with his time than engaging with this weakness…

You make your interest in him clear. He goes through everything - he belittles and denies your feelings, he gets angry with you for bothering him, he asks you to stop saying such nonsense... and he gets frustrated that even when you've finally shut up, he is STILL dwelling on it. He spends so long just tossing things up, sorting through his grief, imagining it... so, SO sick of jerking off… …when the dam bursts - he fucks. If he is going to be spending all this time obsessing over these stupid feelings he may as well get something out of it. Only sex, though. Sex he is in control of. Clothes on, greedy, not pretty, not nice. 'Thats what you wanted from me, yes? Well you've gotten it. Happy?!?' ((He does not expect the answer to be 'yes'.))

He thinks one time was too many, and did it only to take it off his mind - and to stop having you bother him about it. But it is easier for you to get him to do it a second time. And then a third... fourth... The more times it happens - and nothing embarrassing or bad follows... well, if he has done it once, he may as well do it more, right…? You are evidently trustworthy. '…You may come to my chambers IF I call - at no other times. I am too busy to play silly games.' A casual physical relationship - to solve a problem of distraction and concentration. That's all.

He does start to call. Occasionally at first - and every time he almost shows surprise that you actually turn up. But he gets less and less surprised... and starts getting more and more needy. 'You're late. I sent for you half an hour ago. Do you think I am made of time?!' He doesn't even realize how needy he sounds, because this activity is now ingrained in his routine. He is used to it. And because he is used to it: He touches more. More clothes come off. But never his own. He has gone from 'hands-on-waist' fucking to caressing your naked body - slow rolls of his hips, making his own breathe shudder, enjoying every sensation.

One day his summons aren't replied to. At first he angry. How dare you. How DARE you waste his time!? The next time they are alone he snaps at you bitterly. 'Finally tired of me? Got your fill? Met a better man?' When the response is more along the lines of 'I was a bit ill' or 'I was out'... he realizes he has shown far too much of his hand. How embarrassing. He is speechless at his own foolishness. He showed an inch of vulnerability and expects to be raked through the coals for it. ...What he doesn't expect is acceptance, tenderness and respect.

He had forgotten that he wasn't the one to initiate this arrangement - that he was wanted. Desired. In his mind he had taken control: Everything happened when he wanted, where he wanted and in whichever way he wished. To be touched in a friendly way? To he apologized to - for being made to worry? To have make-up sex offered…? '…Yes. Alright.' Its the next layer peeled off. He starts listening to offers, enjoying being asked instead of being answered. It's still a casual affair - and yet seeing them talk to other people no longer makes his hackles raise in concern for his secrets. Running into them in the morning no longer makes his skin crawl with shame and embarrassment for the night before. He feels excited when they pay a visit in the midday, offering an impromptu meeting. It is oddly... comfortable.

Of course it can't always be sex in the midday. It is too much effort, takes too much time, energy and clean-up. It suits him fine when you jump on the chance to put him in your mouth. At first he is a little taken-aback - but it feels nice. He says nothing other than contented hums, but as you get better he groans and arcs his back a little. He doesn't care what happens when he finishes - swallow or not, as long as it is not a mess for him to clean up. …Well, he tries to be that callous about it… but it doesn't last long. There is a tenderness to the act he can't deny. It isn't the mutual-benefit fucking. This is a gift for him to enjoy. That realization settles and festers in him. It creates a soft feeling he doesn't recognize... and a desire not to owe you anything.

So, without much fanfare: he reciprocates. He gets you on his seat, or on his desk, and gets down on his knees... He is a little nervous about it - when was the last time he did this, if ever…? - But he has no need to be. He is a god with his mouth. It's his attention to detail. His devotion to getting things done thoroughly and properly - even this. What starts as an embarrassing action from the weakness of his heart turns into a strong pleasure for him. He LOVES oral. It isn't him losing control: it's him gaining it. Even when his hair is gripped and yanked, even if he is pulled close and suffocated a little on you - HE is making that happen. HE is making you do that. He never expected this to make him so happy, so hot. He never expected to undo the buttons of his high collar so his neck could move more easily, to unbutton and fold up his right sleeve so he could get his hands messy... To have enough fun to start saying some truly dirty things… 'That good, is it~?' 'My-! How delicate you are today!' 'Stop squirming. Too sensitive…? Just grit your teeth and bear it.' ...and he didn't expect to not be laughed at for such things.

He certainly didn't expect to get so into it that he kissed you to shut you up as you came. A shock to both of you… another wall crumbled. Turns out he likes that too. He starts initiating sexual activity with a kiss. He prefers kissing to talking. It is succinct and expressive. Walk into his office: as soon as the door is shut your back is pressed against it, wrists in his hands, his mouth against yours. If he starts losing control of the kiss he gently bites your lip, dragging his teeth along it teasingly. Your tongue invades his mouth before he has a chance to do it first: he just about shoves your hands into his robes, tearing into your clothes... This man lives for kissing now.

But he still doesn't realize this is more than casual, that this is something he needs… Until you chat. Its a quiet moment. You comment on the parchments rolled at the edge of his desk. 'Oh - that is just my own research into the effects of aconite. I had to work with it extensively a few years ago.' You take an interest, and he starts regaling deeper and deeper into his studies: how poorly documented others' research is; how it reacts to other ingredients; how modern brewing processes can draw so much more out of it - 'you know, the plant is often just passed off as toxic when even basic purification charms are enough to-' ...He is blabbering. On and on about a dull topic nobody cares about… yet you are listening. His jaw drops a little. He realizes that, for the first time in two decades, someone cares. Someone truly cares. About HIM. His thoughts, his interests... He never thought he could have this again. He didn't think that for the sex, either - but sex, compared to this, was easy to procure. He wants to kiss you again. But not for lust this time.

Suddenly it doesn't feel so embarrassing to allow his eyes to become wet, to draw a shuddering breathe as he builds the courage - of which he has masses of - to say something important: '…I am afraid I have come to love you.' It is a terrifying thing to say, but he has never once shied away from saying what is important, even if it results in pain. And yet this time, for once… he feels like he can trust that it wont.

** Many times later, he is laying down as his shirt gets unbuttoned, his collarbone kissed... He doesn't feel ashamed, even as he gently strokes his own dick, encouraging it to harden. He pulls his arms from his shirt sleeves, fearless of his dark mark being exposed. For once work is at the back of his mind as he allows himself to be pushed back down to into the pillows, chuckling as he is told: 'Shh… just lay still darling… I'll take care of you tonight…' ...And he does. Control well out of his hands and a smile on his face.

#Severus Snape

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