Fluffy!Snape crack!fic: Severus' Furry Little Problem.
Title: Severus’ Furry Little Problem
Author: likeaglass
Status: Complete
Pairing: Snape/Harry
Rating: NC-17 for language and come shots.
A/N: Okay, so I succumbed. I can't help it, I'm weak!
A/N 2: Harry's sixteen here, people, so I guess that's technically chan.
One day, when Snape was a crotchety old man of thirty six, he awoke to find himself with an... unusual problem.
“Oh my god, what the fuck?” he said, unconsciously mirroring the reaction of thousands of fangirls reading the entries in the fluffy!Snape fic challenge. “I’ve got a fucking tail.” Not just any tail, either. “It’s fucking pink and fluffy! What the fuck?”
As Snape wasn’t known for being the fluffiest member of Hogwarts staff, he found himself in a bit of a pickle as to what to do. Not a real pickle, of course, because, really, you’d need a gigantic pickle if you were going to imprison someone in it. No, a metaphorical pickle, and one not easily solved.
In the end, he said “Fuck it. I’ll just wear my robes, and no one will be any the wiser about my goddamn tail.” Snape was nothing if not practical, though a bit foul-mouthed.
Unfortunately, what Snape didn’t realize was that one of his students had cultivated a habit of staring at his arse. This student, one Harry Potter, soon to be savior of the wizarding world and all around nice guy, noticed immediately that something was wrong with the love of his life, his snuggly-bottom-binky-poo.
“Hey guys,” he said to Ron and Hermione at the breakfast table that morning, after shoveling bacon and toast into his mouth, as you do. “What’s wrong with Snape’s arse?”
Instead of the sympathetic noises he had expected to receive, he got only horrified looks. Bugger. Perhaps he should have told them he was gay before telling them he wanted to tap that ass -- Snape’s, that is.
“Um, never mind,” he said, eloquently. The others, used to his strange ways (and really, what do you expect from a boy who’s lived half his life in a cupboard, honestly?), went back to their eggs and playing footsie under the table.
But the strange conundrum of Snape’s ass haunted Harry all day. Not literally, of course, because it would be weird to have a phantom ass floating alongside you all day. No, metaphorically, it haunted him. Finally, after classes for the day had ended, he plucked up the courage to go down and confront Snape about his woefully changed arse.
“What the fuck do you want,” Snape snarled at him when he opened the door to his chambers.
“Um,” Harry said. He really was an eloquent speaker. “I’ve noticed your arse.”
Snape stared at him a moment, then gestured inside. “Well, get the fuck in then.”
Not knowing what to expect, Harry was nevertheless a bit taken aback when he noticed the decor. Pictures of fluffy pink bunnies, mewling kittens, and prancing unicorns accented the lavender walls and deep, glittery rainbow carpet. “Um,” he said.
“What the shit’s wrong with my goddamn decor?” Snape demanded. “Just because I’m an ass doesn’t mean I can’t be a big girl, does it? Goddamn.” Snape stalked to his hot pink and green couch and sat down in a huff. He winced a bit as he crushed his tail awkwardly underneath him.
“Um. No, I guess not,” Harry said delicately. “But what about your arse?”
“Oh, that.” Snape waved a hand dismissively. “It seems I’ve developed a tail. A fluffy pink one,” he clarified. “Don’t worry, I’ll whip up a fucking potion, or something. I’ll be right as rain in no time, so I can go frolic with the unicorns, as is my wont. They’re my special friends, you see, even though I fucking kill people and have a sodding filthy mouth.”
“Oh. Okay.” Harry shrugged and sat down next to Snape. “So,” he said after a moment. “Can I see it?”
“What, my bloody tail?” Snape thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Sure, why the shit not?” He raised his robes above his waist and turned around, displaying his short, pink tail in all its fluffy glory.
“Wow,” Harry breathed, reaching out to stroke it. As soon as he touched the tail, it twitched and Snape moaned in what sounded like orgasmic ecstasy. Or it could have been in abject misery; Harry was a bit of a prude, really, and wouldn’t know the difference, even though Ginny kept wanting to slag around behind the bushes with him.
“Holy fuck, that fucking felt nice,” Snape groaned, putting an end to Harry’s internal battle. Though, not a real battle, because how could you fit an army inside a sixteen year old boy? Obviously, you couldn’t. “Do that shit again,” Snape demanded.
So Harry happily stroked Snape’s tail, finding that it didn’t really ruin the aesthetics of Snape’s arse once his robes were off, and in minutes Snape was coming all over his pink and green couch. “Shitting fucking goddamn!” he screamed as he came, and not because he was ruining the upholstery. That’s what house elves were for. I mean, to clean the upholstery, not be it, because house elf skin, no matter what your interior decorator may tell you, was not a comfortable fabric choice for a couch.
“That was bloody brilliant,” Harry said, still stroking Snape’s tail.
Snape merely pushed his ass back into Harry’s hand in agreement.
They fucked eight times that night on Snape’s sparkly silver and purple bed, and Snape decided to keep his tail, after all.
They all lived slashily ever after. The end.
I need a new flist, yo.
Author: likeaglass
Status: Complete
Pairing: Snape/Harry
Rating: NC-17 for language and come shots.
A/N: Okay, so I succumbed. I can't help it, I'm weak!
A/N 2: Harry's sixteen here, people, so I guess that's technically chan.
One day, when Snape was a crotchety old man of thirty six, he awoke to find himself with an... unusual problem.
“Oh my god, what the fuck?” he said, unconsciously mirroring the reaction of thousands of fangirls reading the entries in the fluffy!Snape fic challenge. “I’ve got a fucking tail.” Not just any tail, either. “It’s fucking pink and fluffy! What the fuck?”
As Snape wasn’t known for being the fluffiest member of Hogwarts staff, he found himself in a bit of a pickle as to what to do. Not a real pickle, of course, because, really, you’d need a gigantic pickle if you were going to imprison someone in it. No, a metaphorical pickle, and one not easily solved.
In the end, he said “Fuck it. I’ll just wear my robes, and no one will be any the wiser about my goddamn tail.” Snape was nothing if not practical, though a bit foul-mouthed.
Unfortunately, what Snape didn’t realize was that one of his students had cultivated a habit of staring at his arse. This student, one Harry Potter, soon to be savior of the wizarding world and all around nice guy, noticed immediately that something was wrong with the love of his life, his snuggly-bottom-binky-poo.
“Hey guys,” he said to Ron and Hermione at the breakfast table that morning, after shoveling bacon and toast into his mouth, as you do. “What’s wrong with Snape’s arse?”
Instead of the sympathetic noises he had expected to receive, he got only horrified looks. Bugger. Perhaps he should have told them he was gay before telling them he wanted to tap that ass -- Snape’s, that is.
“Um, never mind,” he said, eloquently. The others, used to his strange ways (and really, what do you expect from a boy who’s lived half his life in a cupboard, honestly?), went back to their eggs and playing footsie under the table.
But the strange conundrum of Snape’s ass haunted Harry all day. Not literally, of course, because it would be weird to have a phantom ass floating alongside you all day. No, metaphorically, it haunted him. Finally, after classes for the day had ended, he plucked up the courage to go down and confront Snape about his woefully changed arse.
“What the fuck do you want,” Snape snarled at him when he opened the door to his chambers.
“Um,” Harry said. He really was an eloquent speaker. “I’ve noticed your arse.”
Snape stared at him a moment, then gestured inside. “Well, get the fuck in then.”
Not knowing what to expect, Harry was nevertheless a bit taken aback when he noticed the decor. Pictures of fluffy pink bunnies, mewling kittens, and prancing unicorns accented the lavender walls and deep, glittery rainbow carpet. “Um,” he said.
“What the shit’s wrong with my goddamn decor?” Snape demanded. “Just because I’m an ass doesn’t mean I can’t be a big girl, does it? Goddamn.” Snape stalked to his hot pink and green couch and sat down in a huff. He winced a bit as he crushed his tail awkwardly underneath him.
“Um. No, I guess not,” Harry said delicately. “But what about your arse?”
“Oh, that.” Snape waved a hand dismissively. “It seems I’ve developed a tail. A fluffy pink one,” he clarified. “Don’t worry, I’ll whip up a fucking potion, or something. I’ll be right as rain in no time, so I can go frolic with the unicorns, as is my wont. They’re my special friends, you see, even though I fucking kill people and have a sodding filthy mouth.”
“Oh. Okay.” Harry shrugged and sat down next to Snape. “So,” he said after a moment. “Can I see it?”
“What, my bloody tail?” Snape thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Sure, why the shit not?” He raised his robes above his waist and turned around, displaying his short, pink tail in all its fluffy glory.
“Wow,” Harry breathed, reaching out to stroke it. As soon as he touched the tail, it twitched and Snape moaned in what sounded like orgasmic ecstasy. Or it could have been in abject misery; Harry was a bit of a prude, really, and wouldn’t know the difference, even though Ginny kept wanting to slag around behind the bushes with him.
“Holy fuck, that fucking felt nice,” Snape groaned, putting an end to Harry’s internal battle. Though, not a real battle, because how could you fit an army inside a sixteen year old boy? Obviously, you couldn’t. “Do that shit again,” Snape demanded.
So Harry happily stroked Snape’s tail, finding that it didn’t really ruin the aesthetics of Snape’s arse once his robes were off, and in minutes Snape was coming all over his pink and green couch. “Shitting fucking goddamn!” he screamed as he came, and not because he was ruining the upholstery. That’s what house elves were for. I mean, to clean the upholstery, not be it, because house elf skin, no matter what your interior decorator may tell you, was not a comfortable fabric choice for a couch.
“That was bloody brilliant,” Harry said, still stroking Snape’s tail.
Snape merely pushed his ass back into Harry’s hand in agreement.
They fucked eight times that night on Snape’s sparkly silver and purple bed, and Snape decided to keep his tail, after all.
They all lived slashily ever after. The end.
I need a new flist, yo.