In the Back of Your Mind ŕź*¡Ë
18+ MDNI !!!
Pairing: Young! Severus Snape x F! Reader / You
Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 4 - Stalking. Severus is in love with you from afar. Severus is also very good at legilimency. You show a tiny bit of interest by helping him out in class and he loses a little more of his self-control.
Tags: Stalking, P in V, Unprotected sex, Oral sex (f receiving, a LOT of it), Very dubious consent, Mind manipulation / control, Brainwashing, Improper use of legilimency, Toxic relationships, Yandere Snape, Creepy perverted behaviour, Fantasising, Implied loss of virginity, Self-blaming.
READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!!!!
Word count: 3.7k
all fandom masterlist | hp masterlist | read it on ao3
Authors note: Severus in this fic is written to be a walking red flag, don't seek this kind of relationship irl!! I started to get a headache toward the end of writing this, sorry if it's noticeable in the writing!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ââĄâ)㣠âĄ
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Splat, Severusâ books thud to the ground. A cacophony of laughs erupts behind him, led by James Potter, a satisfied smirk on his face from having caused this mild inconvenience. Severus huffs and rolls his eyes, luckily hidden by his mop of long black hair. He bends down to pick up the books, not at all surprised when James nudges one further away with the toe of his shoe. He shuffles forward and picks it up too, straightening himself back up, head hung low. He shuffles across the hall to lean against a wall further from the marauders, who hoot and laugh at him. Even putting himself in their shoes he canât understand whatâs so funny about watching someone pick up books. None of it matters anyway, because youâll be here soon. Perfect you. You always arrive at this class at 12:56, with your friend by your side. Youâd usually be chatting, finishing off a pastry from lunch, whatever had taken your fancy that day, Severus guessed it would be the Pumpkin pasties today. He watches the clock above the door into the potion's dungeon, feeling a familiar tingle of excitement. Just as he knew you would, almost exactly as the clock struck 12:56, your voice drifted around the corner down the corridor. He watches behind his hair as you come into view, chatting happily with your friend, carefully holding a hand in front of your mouth as you chew. He imagines you spotting him, smiling and making your way over, giggling and offering him a bite of your pastry. Heâd go to bite it and youâd withdraw it playfully, just to tease him, youâd laugh that bright laugh you have and heâd give you a chastising look before stealing a kiss from you, making you smile wider. Youâd wrap your arms around his neck, pushing closer so thatâ
Heâs yanked from his thoughts by Slughorn opening the doors to the lab, the heavy wood scraping unpleasantly against the stone floor. Everyone starts to head inside, he keeps his head down as he enters, hanging back at his usual spot at the back of the room, the spot with a perfect view of you. He places his books down, watching as you quickly scoff the last of your pastry, a pumpkin pasty as heâd guessed before the lesson started. Throughout the lesson heâs watching you, barely concentrating on the topic at hand, he doesn't need to, he already read up on it in his own time so that he can watch you. Heâs lucky, in a way, that he only has you for potions, no matter how much he wishes you always there, always by him, always in view, else he may never learn anything at all. You lean forward on the desk, your chin in your palms, legs swinging under the desk. He can vaguely make out the outline of your bra through the back of your uniform shirt, itâs black, clasped on the final row. He almost jots this down on his parchment before he catches himself. He imagines that if he told you this, youâd laugh and call him something childish and endearing, like a âsilly sausageâ, flicking his nose gently. Heâs lost in this fantasy, this world where he can tell you that heâs watching you and you find it sweet, going through the motions of setting up his workstation for brewing. He doesnât even realise that Slughorn is calling out to him until your head turns towards him, looking curious. He notices with a start that the entire class is looking at him, the marauders laughing tauntingly among themselves.
âEr⌠what?â he croaks out, his voice a little rough from barely speaking all day. He hears a few more chuckles, but not from you. Kind, perfect you. You just glance between him and Slughorn without a hint of judgement in your eyes.
âYour hair is getting rather too long, boy, youâll have to tie it up for this potion, itâs very volatile,â Slughorn chortles from the front of the room. âDo any of the ladies have a spare?â He addresses the room. The marauders and a couple of the other boys explode with laughter, several of the girls immediately shake their heads, or do nothing, except beautiful, perfect you. Youâre picking up your bag and digging through it without a second's hesitation and he could kiss you right now, not that there was any time he felt like he couldnât. Your friend, obviously shamed into action by you, flicks half-heartedly through her bag too. The rest of the class returns to setting up.
âA-ha!â you exclaim, pulling out a plain black hairband from your bag. Black like your bra, his brain supplies, but he shakes that off because youâre walking over to him. Heâs immediately sweating, luckily youâre unlikely to notice through his robes, although you may notice the growing sheen on his forehead. You stand in front of him, smiling like an angel. Heâs not this close to you often, somehow youâre even more ethereal up close. He takes a shaky breath as you extend the hairband to him. "Don't listen to them, Black is only about an inch away from needing one himself,"
âTh-Thank youâŚâ He mumbles, brushing your fingertips with his own on purpose. It feels like a thousand fireworks exploding under his skin and he smiles shakily. You smile and shrug.
âJust get it back to me when you can, or keep it honestly, I have hundreds and youâll probably need it again,â you explain happily. You always seem to have nothing bringing you down and he admires it, wishing he could be so positive, perhaps itâs easy when youâre as flawless as you are. You skip off back to your workstation to your friend. He has something in his hand that is yours, something heâs allowed to keep, something he didnât have to snatch when you left the room. Thereâs a couple of your hairs stuck around it and he shivers in excitement. This is something you have used, and he has it through legitimate means. Heâs floating on air. While everyone else is beginning to brew, he hides behind his cauldron carefully laying down your hairs in his notebook, making sure not to break them, securing them so they donât fall out.
Eventually, once heâs sure he canât extract any more of yours from the hairband, he finally ties his hair back into a low ponytail, getting to work. Heâs confident he can catch up on the brewing time he missed, even as he keeps being distracted by the sight of you across the room, your hair pulled up out of your face in the same type of hairband you gave him. Youâre gorgeous, somehow more than usual, which shouldnât be possible or, frankly, legal. Heâs often wondered if youâre part Veela somewhere far back, because of how absolutely perfect you are. Through extensive research of your family tree, he was able to prove himself wrong, but he still wonders. His potion expertise allows him to catch up on the potion, still being awarded the best potion in class by the end of it. He almost feels bad for everyone who actually put some effort into brewing just to lose to him again, but that feeling melts away when he spots you grinning at him as Slughorn announces his win. The two of you have never been friends, but you have always been silently friendly toward him, refusing to be swayed by the rumours about him. Itâs perhaps what he loves the absolute most about you. Heâs packing up when you approach him again, smiling softly.
âI actually like your hair up like this,â you whisper, reaching over to gently flick the end of his short ponytail. Severus doesnât know if youâre teasing him or not. He feels like heâs been struck by lightning, both by your words and your playful touch. A hundred images of fantasies heâs had about you over the years flash through his mind. Youâve touched him! Willingly! In that playful way, heâd always imagined you would. It takes a lot of effort to remind himself that he canât just kiss you right now. His mouth falls open and he lets out an undignified throaty noise. He quickly covers it up with a cough, blinking rapidly.
âI um⌠you⌠do?â he chokes out. You study his face for a moment, heâs sure youâre about to change your mind. You could never be so cruel though, he knows this, youâre too wonderful.
âYeah⌠itâs nice to see your eyes sometimes,â you tease. Severus forces himself to laugh back casually, trying to force down the love hearts that are practically forming in his eyes. He also has to stop himself from grabbing you, never letting you move away again. He regrets holding himself back when your friend comes up behind you and ushers you away to your next class. You smile at him over your shoulder as you begin to leave. He quickly decides to use the compliments youâve just given him against you. He wonders how much you really meant to them, but he has to try anyway. He invades your mind, silently smug about your lack of defences even after all this time. He feeds you a vision based on what youâve just said. His head between your perfect supple thighs, looking up at you with wide needy eyes, his hair pulled back just like this, devouring your sweet cunt. He knows heâs been successful as he watches you suddenly flush and turn away, your cheeks bright red.
He doesnât really know how you feel about these visions. Heâs been invading your mind and planting them since the end of the fifth year. He would love to stick around in your brain, find out how you react to them, do some digging, and find out how you really feel about him, but he canât risk it. The longer youâre in somebody's mind, the more they can feel the foreign presence. Youâre still yet to put up any wards, even rudimentary ones, so he assumes you donât realise youâre being invaded. You also havenât started to avoid him more than normal, if you realised these visions were coming from someone else, there would only be one logical conclusion as to who they came from, but you havenât withdrawn or confronted him in any way, so he figures heâs safe for now. The nature of the visions he gives you is probably enough to distract you from the momentary uncomfortable tingle of someone else being in your brain. Heâs been experimenting for a long while to see what thoughts you react to the best. He often sits in the dining hall, somewhere where he has the perfect view of you, and plants various thoughts. You donât seem to school your emotions very well, so he gets a vague idea of how you react to each scenario. Heâs tried visions of him bending you over, roughly taking everything he wants from you, heâs tried visions of him begging on his knees to please you and everything in between. You blush beautifully at each one, whether from embarrassment or arousal, he isnât sure. He canât wait to feel your cheek heat up under his hand, because he will get to feel it, some day. You donât seem to like the more extreme scenarios, complete domination or complete submission, but you donât seem to mind either way if the power dynamic is a little milder. He doesnât mind, he would be anything for you, do anything. What you seem to like best is when he feeds you a vision of him eating you out. He supposes it makes sense, itâs completely focused on your pleasure, so itâs practically all heâs been giving you lately. Sometimes he holds you down and calls you a good girl, sometimes youâre riding his face and calling him a good boy, you seem to like it either way. It makes him unbelievably smug.
After dinner, heâs trailing you and your friends to your common room, just to make sure that youâre safe, nothing more. Heâs a little careless, feeding you the same vision over and over, enjoying watching you blush and stutter from afar as you try to chat with your friends. You probably think youâve been hit with a lust potion or something, as he isnât letting you think of anything else. It seems you hadnât lied when youâd told him you liked his hair in the ponytail, as every time he gave you the same vision from earlier, he noticed your thighs tense. This isnât a reaction he gets from you often at all, usually, itâs so subtle that he can be convinced it was unrelated, but this vision, in particular, seems to have you doing this every time. Heâd dropped his fork at dinner just to duck under the table to watch your thighs clench, the sight nearly making his mouth water. He wished he could get under your table and spread your legs, make that vision a reality, but sadly he could not. He would do it in a heartbeat if you asked, fuck the consequences, fuck who could see. Maybe one day, if he kept torturing you with this vision, you would come begging. He feels his cock twitching eagerly in his trousers at the thought. You disappear into your common with your friends, him watching from around the corner. He sighs in disappointment, deciding to leave you be for the night since he canât delight in your lovely little reactions any more. He hangs around at the corner for a moment, debating whether to head outside onto the grounds to watch you through your dorm window like he often did. The mini telescope he had to buy for Astronomy had turned out to be a fantastic use of money, even if he did often see your roommates instead. He had seen them all in various states of undress by now, but he couldnât care about any of them in the least, he only had eyes for you.
Over the next few days, he eases off a little, realising how reckless heâd been. He couldnât risk you knowing what heâs been doing, he canât imagine that would end very well, even if you had seemed to grow to like the visions he gave you. He didnât stop altogether, because that would have arguably been just as suspicious. He keeps it tame, one or two a day, maybe a little more innocent than normal. He canât help but continue to use the information about you liking his hair back, making sure every fantasy he feeds you has him that way. He keeps your hairband, pulling his hair back every day now, because it makes you look at him just a second longer, and heâs obsessed with it. Lucius comments on it, saying it looks odd, but he couldnât care less. It makes secretly watching you harder too, as he canât hide behind his hair so much, but he makes do, all for those extra glances. He continues his routines, waiting for you to emerge in the mornings from your common room by hiding around the corner, watching you at every mealtime, trailing you back to the common room in the evening and then watching you through your window whenever he feels the need.
One night, once heâs happy youâre safely back in your common room, he turns to leave but trips slightly over his feet. He glances down, realising with an exasperated huff that the laces on his oxfords have come undone. He crouches down to tie them, setting his other knee on the ground. He fumbles with them unnecessarily, frustrated with himself. He vaguely registers footsteps approaching him, but not enough to react before he hears a voice.
âOh⌠Severus, what are you doing here?â your soft angelic voice echoes slightly in the empty corridor. You seem confused, and, arguably, you have reason to be. The only thing down this corridor is your common room, and he has no excuse to be here. He swallows, staring straight down at the ground, his mind working a mile a minute.
âHere to return the hairband,â he grunts, thinking fast. Itâs the only excuse he has, even if you had told him to keep it. He looks up at you from his crouched position, youâre a lot closer to him than he thought. He realises how similar this position is to some of the ones heâs forced into your brain. Heâs pleased to notice, from the flush on your face, that you make this connection too, without it being planted. He shifts slightly, lowering both his knees to the ground and facing you properly. He looks up at you, his eyes burning with barely contained arousal. Youâre flushed and shy as you look down at him and he dares to invade your mind to see what youâre thinking. He canât fight the twitch of his lips as he creeps into your mind, only to find youâre imagining him, just as he is now, pushing up your skirt and burying his face between your legs. He shivers, youâre thinking of this all on your own. Thereâs a nag at the back of his mind, telling him you donât quite seem to want to be thinking this, but he ignores it, reaching up for your thighs. You yelp in surprise as his cold, long fingers press into the warm skin of your thighs and he pulls you forward.
âWha- what are you doing?â you squeak, stumbling helplessly toward him. He doesnât answer, he feels possessed, and heâs already salivating. He brushes his nose against the skin of your thigh, just under the hem of your skirt, making you gasp. You smell divine, a vague hint of your perfume, presumably stuck to the fabric of your skirt, a hint of something that he realises, with a growl, must be your arousal. You try to step away, but he grips you harder, keeping you in place. He knows you want him, even if you donât seem to know it yourself. You whimper as he licks a stripe up your thigh, the taste is faintly salty and he groans in pleasure. He hears the old castle creak slightly, reminding him that the two of you are out in the open. He withdraws slightly. You look utterly dazed above him like you donât understand whatâs going on. You realise that heâs walking you to a cleaning cupboard nearby, and your legs just blindly follow him. You want to protest, but canât seem to find it in you. You had been fantasising about this for years now, even if the reason for these fantasies never seemed to make sense. He brings you in, shutting the door behind you. Heâs kneeling again in an instant, he almost looks crazed as he bunches up your skirt. He doesnât even give you time to acclimate before his tongue is on you through the material of your underwear. You gasp out loudly as he tastes the small wet spot of fabric, when did you even get wet? He takes a long deep sniff, his nose nudging at your clit through the fabric. He licks at you desperately until the material is soaked through, both with his saliva and your arousal. You were shocked by just how intensely your body was reacting to all this. You let him slide down your underwear, figuring thereâs no point stopping him now. You lean back against the wall as he buries his head between your legs, shaking his head slightly to get even closer, the movement making you moan softly. Heâs undeniably eager, lapping and slurping at you, but itâs fairly clear heâs never done this before. This is all heâs ever wanted, and heâs determined to make the most of it, the scent and taste of you making him feel insane. He rubs you all over his face, wriggling his tongue against you, gripping the flesh of your buttocks to keep you in place. Heâs mumbling against you, about how long heâs been picturing this, but you canât quite hear him, which is probably for the best. He makes up for his lack of experience with his enthusiasm, the way heâs looking up at you like heâs desperate to please. You find yourself falling apart all over his face shockingly fast, biting your lip to stifle your whines.
âThank you, thank you,â he mumbles over and over as he laps you all up. He pulls away and you go a little limp, sliding slightly down the wall as he stands. You barely register whatâs happening as he turns you around pressing you up against the wall, your eyes widen as he pushes inside you, but by now youâre well past the point of no return, so you simply brace yourself against the wall. He humps you like a dog in heat, sloppy and fast, youâre glad he made you orgasm earlier because you donât get the feeling you will be cumming from this. Not that it feels bad, in fact, it feels quite good, making you moan as he bullies against you. He grips your waist tight with his slender fingers. âThis is perfect, everything Iâve ever dreamed of,â he whimpers in your ear. âNow that Iâve had a taste of you, Iâm never letting you go, youâre mine now,â you know what heâs saying is worrying, but your fucked out mind canât quite realise the true danger of what heâs saying and what your lack of protesting is solidifying in his mind. âAll mine,â he growls, his hips stuttering violently. He buries himself as deep as he can. âFo-forever,â he groans shakily as he spills deep inside of you. He holds you there for a long time, your body limp in his arms as he pants against the back of your neck. You feel lightheaded, you canât believe everything thatâs just happened to you. He kisses your cheek, over and over, as if it's some sort of compulsion. âMine, mine, mine,â he mumbles repeatedly, the reality of everything starting to sink in for you. Maybe you should have believed the rumours about his mental instability, maybe you should have kicked him away when he first grabbed your thighs, perhaps you should be telling him right now that youâre not his, but instead, a string of words come out of your mouth, feeling like theyâre only half your own.
âCan you eat me out again?â
And he happily complies, sliding back down onto his knees.
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