#like would not know that red pandas are not pandas | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pixeld0ll · 21 days ago

Text

Tear you apart (Pt. 1 Pt. 2)

tags: sukuna x fem! reader, nsfw, mdni, trueform!sukuna, degradation, size kink, humiliation, they both freaky idk

an: HIIII this is my first fic in like 4 years so please bear with me!! huge huge shoutout to @cinnamorollcrybaby for inspiring me to start writing again, ur the bomb.com <3 i hope u all enjoy!!

words: 4.8k

It’s your third year at Jujutsu High, and the urge to summon Sukuna gnaws at you day and night. Ever since you first heard about the King of Curses, a part of you has been… intrigued by the four-armed, two-faced legend.

You still remember the day Maki told you about him, after teasing you for knowing so little about the world of curses. Your face flushed in embarrassment as you grabbed a strand of your hair, twisting it in your fingers—a nervous habit.

“Alright, newbie,” Maki had said, her face shifting to something more serious. “Ryomen Sukuna is known as ‘The King of Curses.’ According to dumbass Gojo, he looks mostly human—aside from having four arms, two faces, two sets of eyes. Fucking—seven feet tall or something like that.” She paused, picking up her cursed tool to sharpen it.

“He ruled in the Heian era, like, a thousand years ago. He’s the definition of pure evil. Killed thousands—maybe millions. No one fully understands his technique. He could rival Gojo, honestly.”

Your eyes had gone wide. How had no one ever told you this?

“Eventually, they defeated him—or sealed him or whatever. The story gets fuzzy,” Maki continued, placing her blade down and removing her glasses to clean them with the hem of her shirt.

“His twenty fingers were cut off and scattered. Jujutsu High has a few. Some are used to attract cursed spirits, and of course, some are in the hands of curses themselves.”

You swallowed hard, trying to picture Sukuna in your mind. Would he be grotesque, like the curses you fought on missions? Or would his ‘human’ form make him... a little sexy?

You couldn't lie—seven feet tall made your ears perk.

What the hell? You shook your head. You can’t be thinking like that. A sorcerer shouldn’t wonder if a curse is hot. They’re curses. They must be exorcised.

“…Is it possible for him to come back?” you asked quietly, half-hoping the answer was yes.

“Oh yeah,” Maki said, and your eyes widened further. You weren’t expecting that. She chuckled at your expression. “You’re cute. Your first time fighting a special grade’s gonna be fun. But yeah—two ways Sukuna could come back. First, someone eats his fingers—becomes his vessel. The second? You don’t summon him exactly—you enter his domain. Not sure how that would work, or if it even can. I mean, who the hell would wanna find out?”

You laughed softly with her, opening your mouth to ask more—but were interrupted.

“Maki! Y/N!” Panda called from the top of the staircase. “Come inside! Gojo’s got a mission debrief!”

You and Maki exchanged a glance before standing and heading toward the large cursed corpse that awaited you. But your mind swirled with questions. You made a mental note to check the library after the mission—to learn more about him.

That obsession never left.

It grew. Festered. You tried to ignore it, to suppress the dirty impulses and morbid curiosity—but one day, it became too much. You gave in. Hours turned into weeks, scouring books, blogs, and old scrolls. Your room became a shrine of obsession—papers, texts, ancient diagrams… even a blog written by someone who claimed to have contacted Sukuna before. They said the summoning didn’t fully work, but symbols appeared, questions were answered, and something watched them.

And now… here you are.

Three years later.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor of your dorm, surrounded by red candles and ancient Heian-era symbols scrawled in your own blood. It hurt to collect—but the pain was nothing compared to the hunger to see him. To know him.

It’s well past midnight—close to 2 a.m.—and you've cast a veil to prevent any sorcerers from detecting your energy. You take a shaky breath, reach for the wooden box, and slowly open it. Inside rests a talisman-wrapped finger—one of his.

You bite your lip as you begin unwrapping the paper, whispering the chant you painstakingly pieced together from hundreds of texts:

"I seek the gate carved in sinew and stone, Where curse-born kings reign from bloodied throne. Let flesh wither, let truth distort, I step where the living hold no court."

"With eyes unblinking and heart laid bare, I cross the threshold—if I dare. By tooth, by nail, by cursed design, I enter the Shrine where Sukuna lies."

"Ryomen Sukuna, let the veil be torn. May my soul walk where gods are shorn."

"Open the gate. I offer my name."

"And enter now your cursed domain."

You place the unwrapped finger into a circle of blood and whisper your name into the dark.

Nothing happens.

Minutes pass.

Your eyes flutter open, disappointment filling your chest. Of course it didn’t work.

“I can’t believe I thought this would—”

Suddenly, a wave of nausea slams into you. The room spins. You stumble forward—but instead of grabbing your bedpost, your hand meets something horrifying: a pile of skulls. A river of thick, dark-red liquid flows beneath you.

You scream and jump back, hands clamping over your mouth.

“You dare to enter my domain,” a deep voice growls behind you, “and shriek like a brat—nearly louder than the thousands I’ve sliced in three. Bow before me, insolent fool… or I’ll do the same to you.”

You freeze. Your heart races as you slowly turn, legs trembling.

A figure looms behind a towering column, hidden mostly in shadow.

Four arms. More than seven feet tall. Colossal.

It’s him.

Your breath catches.

You remember something from that blog: Sukuna enjoys disobedience. Your survival instincts scream to kneel, to beg. But a darker part of you whispers: Keep going.

“…And what if I don’t?” you call out.

He steps forward, slow and deliberate, letting the blood-red light reveal his face.

“If you refuse,” he says with a sinister grin, “I’ll break your limbs, tear you apart, and feast on what’s left of your pitiful little body.”

He stands over you now, red eyes gleaming, drinking you in. His voice is cruel—yet somehow intoxicating.

“Don’t even think about running, little human. You’re nothing. A bug. A speck waiting to be crushed.” He leans in, towering above you. “So tell me—will you obey your king?”

You scan his body—your question from three years ago answered in full. Is he sexy? Hell yes.

Towering, muscled, with four arms that could break you in two. His robe clings just enough to reveal the outline of his powerful chest and abs. Four crimson eyes burn into you with heat and hunger.

You suppress every rational thought.

“I never said I wanted to run,” you whisper, locking eyes with him.

His brow raises, amused. “Oh? You have guts, insolent little thing.”

He steps forward again—closer now. So close his heat radiates against your skin. He leans down, lips nearly brushing your ear.

“You’re not afraid of me, eh?”

You gulp, trying not to tremble. “What if… what if I said I am afraid?” You look up. “And what if I said… I like that I’m afraid?”

He freezes for a moment—then smirks. A devilish, dangerous grin.

“Oh really?” he murmurs, voice low and sinful. “You like being afraid of me?”

You bite your lip, breath hitching. His massive body makes your knees weak. You stumble slightly, grabbing his bicep to steady yourself.

He growls at the touch.

“So what if I do?” you breathe, looking up at him through long lashes.

You step onto your toes, rising to meet his face. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Sukuna lets out a low, guttural chuckle—one that vibrates through the stone walls of his domain and sends a tremor down your spine.

“What am I going to do?” he repeats mockingly, his voice silk and poison wrapped into one. “You come crawling into my domain, bleeding for me, begging for my attention... and now you ask me what I’m going to do?”

His four hands move at once—two clasp behind his back again, composed and regal, while the others reach out. One wraps around your chin, lifting your face to meet his eyes, while the second hand trails slowly down your side, ghosting over your waist as if memorizing the shape of you.

“I could tear your soul apart and scatter it across the cursed realm,” he purrs, leaning close enough that you can feel the chill of his breath. “Or—” his eyes flicker, pupils thinning like a predator’s, “—I could reward your... dedication.”

His thumb strokes your lower lip, pressing just enough to make your breath hitch. His eyes scan your face like he's searching for the slightest twitch of fear, the tiniest crack in your bravado.

“You’ve been watching me. Studying me. Craving me.” His voice dips lower with each word. “Why?” It isn’t a request. It’s a command.

You swallow hard, feeling your heart thudding against your ribcage like a drum of war. You should lie. You should apologize. But the part of you that brought you here, that carved your own blood into summoning circles, speaks louder.

“I wanted to see if the stories were true,” you whisper, breathless. “If a curse could be beautiful. If danger could be divine.”

His smirk curves into something more dangerous, more unhinged.

“You think I’m beautiful?” he says with mock surprise. “How quaint. Humans and their need to romanticize their own destruction.”

Then, in one swift movement, he steps even closer. You’re practically caged now—his enormous frame casting a shadow over you, the air around him thick and humming with power.

“Let’s see if your devotion is more than words,” he growls. “Prove it.”

Your lips part, the words stuck in your throat. “How—”

“You summoned me,” he interrupts. “Now submit.”

One of his hands lifts, tracing a symbol in the air that glows briefly before disappearing. You feel your knees weaken again—not from fear this time, but from the raw, oppressive aura that crashes over you like a wave. It's overwhelming, like gravity has tripled in an instant. You nearly collapse again, but his hand steadies you by your hip.

He leans in, his voice a whisper against your skin:

“Worship your king.”

He watches you tremble, your breath shallow, your thighs pressed tight. Your silence only fuels the hunger in his eyes.

Then he angles down, lips grazing the shell of your ear, voice low, guttural, and cruelly sweet:

“God, you’re so fucking pathetic.”

You inhale sharply, body going still.

“Transporting yourself into my domain just to be used,” he growls. “You wanted this. Came crawling into the lion’s den just to be ruined, didn’t you?”

One of his hands snakes behind your neck, yanking you closer until your chest presses against his rock-solid torso. His other hand slides slowly, deliberately down your body—past your waist, to your hip, fingers flexing possessively.

“You want me to destroy you from the inside out. You want to be wrecked so badly that no other man will ever satisfy you again.”

His voice dips darker, each word dripping with venomous promise.

“You want to be fucked so hard you forget your name—but not mine. No. The only name you’ll ever remember is mine.”

He yanks your head back slightly to make you meet his eyes. All four of them burn with sadistic glee.

“Ryomen Sukuna. Say it.”

You do. Weakly. Breathless.

He chuckles.

“You want me to defile you—mark you so deeply you bleed my name. I’ll give it to you. I’ll ruin you.”

He leans in until your lips almost touch, his breath hot against your skin.

“I’ll fuck you until your voice breaks, until you’re sobbing, a drooling, trembling mess who can’t even beg properly. I’ll make you scream. I’ll make you bleed. I’ll own you.”

His hand tightens at your throat—not choking, but enough to make your head spin deliciously.

“When I’m done with you,” he snarls, “you’ll be nothing but flesh. A whimpering, broken toy that exists to please me. You’ll crave my touch like a curse.”

His thumb presses against your bottom lip, forcing it down.

“But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You nod, barely able to breathe. Every part of you burns—fear, desire, the overwhelming thrill of submission.

“Yeah,” he hisses, grinning like the devil himself. “You would. You dirty, desperate little slut.”

He tilts his head, mock sympathy in his voice.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure it’s worth it. You’ll forget everything you were. Everything you wanted. The only word you’ll know...”

He leans in, brushing his lips against yours—barely.

“...is my name.”

Your breath stutters as his thumb slides down your chin, dragging it open until your lips part with a soft gasp. Sukuna hums, a low, vibrating sound in his throat that’s equal parts cruel and amused.

“So easy to break,” he murmurs, eyes devouring your expression. “And you want it. You want to be reduced to a whimpering little pet in my grasp. Filthy.”

His hand leaves your throat—just long enough to trail down your side, the weight of it scorching through your clothes like a brand. Four hands. Four points of contact. You barely register where he’s touching anymore, only that you're utterly surrounded by him. Caged.

“You’re trembling.” His voice is soft now. Dangerous. A hiss laced with anticipation. “Not from fear. Not entirely.”

You try to speak, but no words come. Sukuna notices. He always notices.

“Look at you,” he grins. “On the edge of reason. You’ve thought about this, haven’t you? For years. Dreamed of what I’d do to you. What it would feel like when I finally touched you.”

One hand grabs your jaw again, forcing you to meet his gaze. All four eyes bore into yours—two mocking, two ravenous.

“Thats right, I was aware every time you thought about me. I saw those dirty little fantasies late at night. Now you’re here. And I’m real. And I promise you this—when I’m done, you won’t want to go back.”

Your knees threaten to give out. His body is so close. Heat rolls off of him like steam from a fresh kill. You can smell the iron in the air, the faintest metallic tang of blood soaked into the stones beneath you. His domain is alive, pulsing—watching.

He steps closer still, and his lips hover a breath away from yours.

“You summoned me,” he whispers darkly. “You walked willingly into the lion’s jaws.”

He leans down, mouth brushing the corner of yours, just enough to make your head spin.

“Now beg,” he growls. “Beg to be devoured.”

And just as his mouth descends toward yours in a twisted parody of a kiss, the world around you goes darker—red lightning crackling through the shadows like veins, the temple stone beneath your feet pulsing with cursed energy. The air thickens, pressing against your skin like a second body. The veil between power and pleasure snaps taut.

Everything is trembling on the edge.

The moment before the storm.

The exact place you’d wanted to be.

You kiss him back with equal ferocity, matching his hunger beat for beat. His lower hands make quick work of your oversized t-shirt, claws slicing through the fabric like it’s nothing more than paper. The sudden tear and the rush of cool air against your bare skin draw a gasp from your lips—but he doesn’t waste the opportunity. His tongue slips into your mouth, skilled and unrelenting, claiming every inch as if he owns it. Which, in this moment, he does.

A helpless whimper escapes you, and the sound earns a guttural, possessive growl from deep in his chest. His upper hands find your breasts, easily engulfing them—his fingers rough, greedy, squeezing with a pressure that borders on painful. You arch into his touch even as you flinch, the sensation overwhelming in the most intoxicating way.

He breaks the kiss only to trail his mouth down the column of your throat, licking and biting with the same cruel precision he likely used to kill a thousand men. When he finds a particularly sensitive spot, you moan, voice hitching—and the smirk that spreads across his lips against your skin is unmistakable. He’s found your weakness, and now he plans to exploit it.

Without warning, sharp pain rips through your neck as his fangs sink into your flesh. Your eyes roll back, the coppery tang of your blood mixing with the heat of his breath. You cry out, instinctively reaching for him, fingers tangling in his hair in a desperate attempt to pull him away.

But Sukuna is far from done.

He growls again, grabbing both your wrists in one hand and forcing them behind your back with humiliating ease. The other hand holds you in place by the waist, and he laps at the blood trailing from your wound, his tongue slow and deliberate. Worshipful, in a twisted, terrifying way.

He doesn’t stop. He dives back in, sucking, biting, marking you over and over until your neck blossoms in deep reds and violent purples. A crown of bruises worn only by the damned.

You’re trembling now, not from fear—but from the unbearable rush of it all.

And Sukuna? He’s only just begun.

He reaches one of his lower hands between your thighs, brushing aside your pajama shorts with an effortless motion. With a flick of his wrist, he hooks a finger into the waistband of both your shorts and panties, tearing them apart like wet paper. The sound of fabric ripping echoes in the chamber, followed by the soft whisper of cloth hitting bone as your clothing falls to the ground in tatters.

With his other lower arm, he lifts you like you're weightless, hands gripping your waist with practiced strength—rough, yet with a frightening kind of care. Like a predator who doesn’t want to break the prey until the right moment. As he ascends the pile of skulls, you instinctively avoid looking down, unwilling to think about who they once were. You focus instead on him—on the sensation of his body pressed to yours, on the terrifying comfort of his grip.

His lips never leave your neck. His fangs, already stained with your blood, drag against your skin in a cruel promise. Your neck, once smooth, now blooms with dark marks—bruises, welts, cuts—a living canvas of his possession.

A sudden wave of shame crashes over you as the reality of what you’re doing sinks in. What would your fellow Jujutsu sorcerers think if they saw you like this? Marked by a curse—the curse. You feel the weight of your choices bearing down.

He feels it too.

Without a word, he hurls you onto his throne—a towering, jagged seat of bone and twisted steel, as brutal and imposing as its master. You hit the seat with a thud, breath stolen from your lungs, your body trembling with a mix of fear, guilt, and something darker.

A strong hand seizes your chin, tilting your face upward. You look into four burning eyes, full of scorn and amusement.

“Tch. Look at you,” he mutters. “Trembling like a leaf, after crawling into my domain on your own. I don’t let just anyone in here, you know.” His other hand cracks against your cheek with a sharp slap, the sting blooming instantly across your skin. “Well you're in luck. I've always wanted to defile a jujutsu sorcerer. Its just my luck a fucked up pretty little whore dropped in my lap.”

Tears spring to your eyes, not just from pain, but from the shame curling deep in your stomach.

“You really are pathetic, aren’t you?” he growls, voice low and dangerous. “Three years you spent digging into my legacy. Feeding your obsession. And here you are—just another filthy human slut desperate to be touched by something monstrous.”

He cages you in, all four arms braced on either side of you, his massive form casting you in shadow. You feel like prey. Trapped. Hunted. Your heart races.

“I can smell it, you know—the guilt,” he sneers. “But I can also smell the truth underneath it.”

He leans in close, his lips brushing your ear.

“You want them to know. All those little sorcerers you call friends—you want them to see the marks I leave on you. You want them to know who you belong to now. Don’t you, little whore?”

You freeze. The thought had crossed your mind once. Maybe more than once. But hearing it said aloud—so crudely, so accurately—makes your throat tighten.

“I asked you a question, whore.” His voice sharpens. “When your king speaks, you answer.”

You gulp, nodding.

He growls softly. “Ah, no. Not enough. I want words, not whimpers. So mouthy before, and now you cant even get a coherent sentence out. I havent even fucked you yet, how pathetic.

You look up into his eyes—terrified and trembling, but unable to lie to yourself anymore.

“Yes,” you whisper, voice cracking. “Yes… I want them to know I’m yours.”

He smiles—a twisted, triumphant expression that sends a chill down your spine.

“Good girl,” he says, lips curling back to bare his fangs. “Because from this moment on, you are.”

Suddenly, his grip tightens, and before you can process what’s happening, you feel a rush of pressure between your thighs — not one, not two, but three of his massive fingers drive into you without warning. The sudden stretch steals the breath from your lungs.

“You want it, do you?” His voice is a low growl, vibrating through your chest like thunder. “Then beg, pet. Beg for your king.”

Your words crumble into gasped half-sentences, muffled moans, and desperate little pleas as your body writhes helplessly in his hold, trying to match his rhythm. Every curl of his fingers makes your vision blur, the relentless pace driving you higher, faster.

“Oh, you can do better than that.” His voice darkens, almost mocking. “Beg for your king like the filthy little whore you are. Say it. Show me.”

His thumb finds your clit, pressing in tight circles that send shocks up your spine. Your back arches against him, mouth falling open with a sobbing moan.

“F-Fuck, please,” you choke out, barely coherent. “Please—please, I need it—need you—Sukuna, please—”

The moment his name falls from your lips, everything changes. He lets out a feral noise that’s somewhere between a snarl and a groan, and before you can even mourn the loss of his fingers, he buries his dick deep inside you with a savage thrust.

You cry out, not just from the stretch, but from the overwhelming sensation that follows — the heat, the fullness, the way your body clenches around him like it was made for this. Made for him.

His breath stutters against your skin. “Tight little thing,” he mutters, almost to himself. “You feel that, don’t you? How you fit around me so perfectly. It’s like you were always meant to be mine. God, you can fucking see my dick in your stomach.” he groans out. Its been so long since hed taken anyone like this; and though he’d never admit it to you, you’re the best pussy he’s ever had.

You don’t even have time to answer. Your body moves on instinct, spasming around him as your climax hits you in a sudden, overwhelming wave. He holds you steady, one arm wrapping around your waist like a steel band, the other gripping your thigh as he starts to move — deep, slow, brutal.

“Already?” He chuckles darkly. “You must be a virgin Cumming so quickly… How precious.”

He leans forward, forcing you to meet his eyes — those four blazing orbs searing into your soul. “Look at you. Wrecked, ruined, and I’ve barely even started.”

One of his hands slides up, fingers wrapping around your throat — squeezing slightly to constrict your breathing slightly. “You’re mine now,” he says, tone calm but laced with threat. “Every breath you take. Every sound you make. Every time someone even thinks of touching you, they’ll see me in your eyes.”

You can barely think, barely speak, every nerve set alight as he starts to move again — unrelenting and commanding. All that’s left is the sound of your whimpers, the heat of his breath on your skin, and the terrifying, intoxicating truth:

You don’t want to be anywhere else.

“Mmf- s-sukuna-” you moan out, knees falling open as you completely submit, showing just how much he can use you. “Mm… let you do anything..”

He stops his momentum immediately, making you actually tear up, missing his dick pressing against your cervix, hitting the right spots every time.

“What the fuck did you just say?” his eyes flash, sadistic smirk forming across his face. One of his hands grips your chin harshly, and he spits, spits, in your face. “Say. that. Again.”

You gasp, his saliva trailing down your cheek. You gulp before responding quietly. “I’d let you do anything you want to me.” your voice is slurred with pleasure slightly, and you swear his eyes glow red when the words leave your lips.

He drops your chin and shoves you down, hooking your legs around his waist.

“You innocent, little thing. You have no idea what you’ve done.” he purrs in your ear.

“I’m going to fucking tear you apart.”

Suddenly his mouth is on your breasts, biting and sucking, and he resumes his cruel thrusting pace, making you scream out in surprise. He grabs a nipple into his mouth, biting down on the taut bud just enough to send jolts of pain and pleasure through your body. His hand grips your other breast, rolling your the nipple between his large fingers and pinching.

He looks up at you, mouth still moving on your breasts, and he actually has to close his eyes to keep himself from cumming.

Your head is lolled to the side, eyes dazed and rolled back. You’re flushed and sweaty, hair sticking to your forehead, mouth open as actual drool dribbles out.

His marks completely cover your body, and he absolutely knows there is no way of covering them up. You look like you're in pure ecstasy, and he engranes the image in his mind to use at a later date.

Another orgasm pours over you, and Sukuna lets out an animalistic growl as you squeeze around his dick.

“Fuck- tightest little cunt- god, I can’t wait to fucking fill you up.”

You moan at his words, and he continues fucking into you roughly, finally releasing your neck as finger-shaped bruises begin to form. He holds your hips down, bringing another hand to your clit, flicking at rubbing it harshly.

A third orgasm crashes over you, catching even you off guard. Sukuna barks out a yell, sinking his teeth back into your neck as he makes four deep thrusts, your constricting walls finally breaking him. He growls and falls against you, spurting load after load of hot, sticky cum deep in your cunt. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, feeling him fill you to the brim.

For a moment, the only sound that lingers in the heavy air is the ragged rise and fall of your breathing, tangled with his own. Sukuna releases your wrists, and to your surprise, his movements shift — not harsh, not greedy. He pulls out of you with an almost reverent slowness, your body still trembling from the aftermath.

You whimper instinctively, still aching, still stretched far beyond your limits. His deep, throaty chuckle rumbles through the chamber as he watches you tighten around the emptiness he left behind.

“There, there, little girl,” he murmurs, brushing a damp strand of hair from your cheek with unexpected tenderness. His clawed fingers trail your jaw, soft for the first time. “You got what you wished for.”

Through your half-lidded eyes, you catch the faintest hint of something new tugging at the corners of his mouth. Not smugness. Not triumph. Something quieter. Older.

A single, large hand cups your cheek, his thumb swiping gently beneath your eye. “Sleep now, pet,” he says, voice low and velvety. “Perhaps I’ll grant you another visit.”

The world goes dark not with fear, but with surrender.

Sunlight filters through the narrow cracks in your curtains, speckling your room in faint gold. You blink against the light, breath catching as memories rush in—vivid, violent, visceral.

You jolt upright and immediately regret it, pain flaring through every muscle. So it was real...

Gingerly, you swing your legs off the bed, feeling your thighs protest every movement. Every step toward your vanity is a struggle—your body marked, exhausted, claimed.

And when you catch your reflection, you freeze.

Your neck and chest are a canvas of bruises, deep purples blooming across pale skin like morbid blossoms. Small bandages pepper your body—tucked neatly over teeth marks, scratches, and raw places only he could’ve reached. You stare, wide-eyed, as a blush rises to your cheeks.

Did the King of Curses… bandage you?

Your hand comes up to touch one of them, and something twists in your chest. Not fear. Not shame.

Possession.

A flicker in the mirror draws your attention. For a brief second—too fast to be certain—you swear you see four crimson eyes watching from the shadows behind you. A whisper of heat coils at the base of your spine.

Then it’s gone.

But you know better now.

This isn’t over.

You had opened a door. And Sukuna… would never lets his plaything close it again.

#jjk #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #fanfic #jjk suggestive #sukuna smut #jjk sukuna #sukuna x reader #jujutsu sukuna #sukuna #jjk smut #jjk x reader #sukunaxf!reader

615 notes · View notes

colouredbyd · 1 month ago

Text

The Secret Life Of Pets (Hogwarts edition)

poly!marauders x fem!reader

summary: After a transformation gone wrong, Flicker is trapped in red panda form for a week. The Marauders pass her off as their pet, but curious hands and lingering eyes make staying hidden far more complicated.

warnings: fluff, animagus secrecy, fluffy moments, stuck in animagi, mention of animal torture a few times? also mentions of being displayed and coming from a zoo? technically part of a blurb series but can be read alone

w/c: 7k (im not sorry)

a/n: i absolutely adore this oh my god </3

part of my mini blurb series Flicker's Secret Adventures

masterlist

You never thought you would end up like this, tangled in the strange magic of your own making, a flicker of crimson fur and wide eyes peering up at the towering figures of your three Marauder boyfriends.

One moment, you were caught in the chaotic swell of transformation—magic thrumming hot and wild through your veins—and the next, you were stuck, bound in the soft body of your Animagus form, the world towering and unfamiliar.

It was James who first noticed, sharp-eyed and impossibly intuitive despite the chaos that always seemed to linger around him like a second skin. He had been the one to throw a piece of parchment at you as you scuttled across the common room floor, your tiny paws stumbling over the worn wood, claws clicking helplessly against it.

He watched with brows knit together as you stumbled, tripping gracelessly before collapsing into a heap of plush fur, your tail flicking in embarrassment. He knelt down beside you, the smile he wore warm and familiar, but his eyes gave him away—there was panic there, a thread of worry woven deep.

"Alright, love," he started gently, voice coaxing, his thumb brushing soothingly over your head like it was second nature.

"Enough playing around. Time to come back, yeah? We promised a proper cuddle pile tonight, remember?" He made a little gesture with his hands, as if that would draw you out of your Animagus form like a conjuring spell.

You blinked up at him, round eyes wide and glimmering with something you couldn’t quite voice. You willed the magic to reverse, to flood back through your veins and pull you upright, human and steady.

But nothing happened. Your heart thudded heavy in your tiny chest, and you shuffled back slightly, paws scrabbling against the floor as a flicker of panic seized you.

James frowned, glancing over his shoulder. "Oi, Moony, is she...is she stuck?"

Remus was already rifling through the scattered parchment on the table, lips pressed thin as he skimmed the text. "It shouldn’t be possible," he murmured, flipping through the spellwork with a focused intensity.

His eyes softened when he looked up, offering you the kind of smile that always made you feel like everything would be alright. "You’ve done it a hundred times before, darling."

"Well," Sirius drawled from the edge of the sofa, one brow arched as he twirled his wand between long fingers, "seems like she’s a bit more attached to the fur than she thought. Maybe she just wants to be spoiled."

"Wouldn’t blame her," James chuckled, his hand still cradling you gently, fingers brushing through the soft fur on your back. "She knows we’re all absolute suckers for her."

You huffed indignantly, your tiny form shivering with the effort of it, and Sirius just laughed harder, throwing his head back as the sound filled the room.

"Look! She’s got attitude even now," he cackled, and you darted towards him, tiny paws skittering across the floor as you leapt onto his boot with a defiant squeak. He leaned down, scooping you up with surprising gentleness, his hands firm but soft against your fur. "Alright, alright, I get it," he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head before passing you back to James. "Can’t help herself."

James chuckled, though the edge of concern hadn’t quite left his eyes. He reached down, scooping you up gently until you were cradled in his hands, your tiny claws pricking slightly against his palms. "Come on, Flicker. Try again. Give it a go, just for us." His voice softened, thumb brushing over your ears. "I know you can do it, love."

You closed your eyes, focusing as hard as you could, willing the magic to turn like a tide—but again, you remained right there, soft and curled up in James’s hands, your ears flicking in frustration.

Remus looked up from the parchment, his eyes sharp with realization. "Wait," he began slowly, his voice dropping to a hush, "I think...I think I found something."

Sirius perked up instantly, leaning forward, boots hitting the floor with a solid thud. "Go on, then. Spill it, Moony."

Remus’s fingers traced over the ink, his brow furrowing. "There’s a note here...something about prolonged Animagus form in times of heightened emotion. If the caster experiences..." he squinted, bringing the paper closer. "—if they experience emotional distress during transformation, it can...lock them in place."

James’s eyes shot back to you, still curled in his hands. "Well, that would’ve been nice to know..." he muttered, brushing a thumb over your head. "Alright, Flicker. What’s got you all tied up, then?"

Sirius leaned back, arms stretched behind his head, his grin lazy and amused. "Maybe she’s just desperate for all the attention." They all laughed thinking what Remus said was just some joke.

But then the whole day had slipped by, melting into hours of failed attempts and frustrated huffs, the clock ticking away with no change, and you were still stuck, a permanent fixture of fur and twitching ears in their lives.

Remus had read over the spellwork a hundred times, murmuring incantations under his breath while you tried—again and again—to shift back. When it became clear that you weren’t going to change anytime soon, they devised a plan.

"We’ll just tell everyone you went home," James said confidently, lounging back on the common room couch. "Emergency family business. Your brother’s sick or something."

"And the red panda?" Remus asked, arching a brow.

Sirius smirked. "She’s our pet now. I’ll get her a collar and everything."

You growled, ears flattening, but Sirius only chuckled, leaning down to scratch your head. "Oh, come on, love. You’ll be the most spoiled pet in all of Hogwarts."

"Absolutely," Remus replied dryly, sitting back and watching you with his usual quiet amusement. He glanced at the other Marauders. "We can’t exactly have her wandering around the castle like this, can we? People are going to notice."

And so, it was on that crisp morning, with the first rays of sunlight streaming weakly through the ancient windows of Hogwarts, that you found yourself tucked away inside the magical bag James had conjured for you.

It was a rather unconventional hiding spot, to say the least, yet it was the kind of place no one would think to look. After all, who would expect a mischievous red panda to be snugly nestled inside the confines of a student's seemingly ordinary backpack?

Yet, despite the secrecy of your hiding place, you were far from being quiet or still. Every so often, you would stir within the bag, your little paws batting at the fabric in an attempt to make your presence known. It was as though you couldn't resist the pull of the chaos unfolding outside, the energy of the bustling hallways of Hogwarts spilling into your cramped sanctuary.

You poked your head out from beneath the folds, watching, curious, as the swirl of students passed by, their hurried footsteps and muffled voices blending into a symphony of uncertainty.

The air around the entrance to the Great Hall felt thick with tension, the kind that only comes with the unexpected—something was happening, though you couldn’t quite make sense of it. From your hidden position, the sights and sounds made it impossible for you to remain still for too long.

"Shh, Flicker," came James's voice, low and urgent, as he gently pressed you further into the bag, his hands cool against your fur. "No one can see you. You need to stay hidden."

You weren’t sure if James had truly grasped the depths of your mischief, or if it was the sheer amount of chaos that had taken root in the hallways that made him think a red panda could remain unnoticed for long. Either way, you weren’t inclined to cooperate because why would you when you were a panda?

You wriggled, your small body twisting inside the bag as you tried to free yourself from its confines. A determined paw snaked out from the edges, batting at his fingers, your silent protest unmistakable.

"Hey, Jamie," came Sirius's familiar drawl from somewhere above you, lazy and dripping with amusement. "You torturing the poor thing in there? Flicker deserves better than your clumsy handling, don't you, darling?"

"Clumsy?!" James shot back, sounding almost wounded as he gave the bag an indignant shake—enough to make you squeak in protest.

"I’m keeping her from getting caught, which is more than I can say for your brilliant ideas. Remember last week? With the broom closet and the Filibuster Fireworks? Nearly had her tail singed off."

You shoved your little paws through the gap, reaching for the space outside, your claws scraping lightly against the soft edges of the bag as you sought freedom.

Sirius chuckled, the sound low and warm, and you could hear the shift of his footsteps as he came closer. "C'mon then, give her here. You’re going to smother her with all your hovering."

There was a brief shuffle before you felt the bag open slightly, the light pouring in bright and blinding for a moment before you blinked up and saw Sirius grinning down at you.

"Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes," he murmured, his hands reaching in and scooping you up with surprising gentleness. The moment you were free, you leaped instinctively, scrambling up his arm and curling up in his embrace, your fur brushing against the soft wool of his sweater as you buried your head against his chest.

"You spoil her," James muttered, crossing his arms with a huff as Sirius cradled you like something precious. "One of these days, she’s going to run straight past me and head right for you."

"Already does," Sirius replied with a smirk, settling down onto the nearest bench and letting you curl up in his lap. His fingers scratched idly behind your ears, and you couldn’t help the little chirrup of delight that escaped you. "She knows quality when she sees it. Right, Flicker?"

"I think you mean reckless idiocy," came Remus’s soft voice from behind you, his presence as familiar as sunlight. He slipped onto the bench beside Sirius, his gaze flickering to you with a fondness that made your heart squeeze. "Honestly, I’m surprised she even tolerates the two of you."

"That’s because you bribe her with chocolate," James quipped, dropping into the seat across from them and kicking his feet up onto the table with a satisfied sigh. "I saw you slipping her some last week. Traitorous, really."

"Not traitorous if she’s mine," Remus replied smoothly, reaching over to give you a gentle scratch under the chin. "You always come back to me, don’t you, sweetheart?"

You chirped in response, stretching out your paws to brush against his hand, and he chuckled softly. Sirius snorted, leaning back and watching with a grin. "Alright, alright, no need to start a custody battle over Flicker. We all know she prefers me."

"Oh, do we?" James raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with a grin. "I think it’s about time we test that theory."

Sirius's grin widened, a spark of mischief lighting his eyes. "What do you say, Flicker? Should we make this interesting?" His fingers danced along your back, and you leaned into the touch instinctively. "Winner gets you for the whole weekend. No interruptions. No distractions. Just us."

Remus chuckled, shaking his head. "Merlin help us," he muttered, but there was a smile tugging at his lips, a rare softness that lingered in his eyes as he watched you snuggle deeper into Sirius's lap. "Just don’t blame me when she leaves you both behind and comes straight back to me."

"Dream on, Moony," Sirius drawled, his fingers brushing through your fur in soft, gentle strokes. "She’s ours, and she knows it."

And with that, you settled comfortably into Sirius's arms, soothed by the gentle rhythm of his breathing, the sound of their banter a lullaby in the chaotic world of Hogwarts. For a moment, the rest of the castle faded away, and it was just the four of you—tangled in playful arguments and whispered promises, hidden away from the madness of it all.

It was only a few moments later when the familiar swish of footsteps signaled Lily’s approach, her confident stride cutting through the lingering haze of morning chatter.

She walked past with the kind of purposeful elegance only she seemed to possess, her crimson hair catching the light like flames against the stone walls of the Great Hall. But then she stopped, her gaze snagging on the peculiar sight before her—Sirius lounging on the bench with you curled up cozily in his lap, Remus settled comfortably beside him, and James looking far too pleased with himself across the table.

Lily raised an eyebrow, her emerald eyes sharp with curiosity as they flickered to you, nestled snugly in Sirius's arms. "What," she began slowly, her tone hovering somewhere between disbelief and faint amusement, "is that?"

Sirius barely flinched, his grin widening as he lifted you up slightly, your tiny, fuzzy form wriggling a bit in his hands as you blinked up at her.

"Oh, this?" he replied smoothly, as if he had been waiting for the question all morning. "Just our new class mascot. Her name’s Flicker." He cradled you a bit closer, his fingers brushing gently over your fur as if to demonstrate just how harmless and adorable you were.

Lily's eyes narrowed, suspicion flaring in their depths as she crossed her arms over her chest. "A red panda?" she repeated, voice laden with disbelief. "Since when does Hogwarts allow exotic animals as mascots?"

"Since we decided it," James cut in cheerfully, leaning forward with a grin that was just shy of conspiratorial. His elbow hit the table with a soft thud as he propped his chin on his hand, completely unbothered by Lily's incredulity. "You know how it is, Evans. We like to keep things interesting around here."

"Interesting?" she echoed, glancing between the three of them as if waiting for one to crack. "Is that what you’re calling it now? And what exactly are you planning to do if McGonagall finds out?"

Sirius waved a hand dismissively, the motion causing you to bounce slightly in his lap, though he steadied you almost immediately with a gentle pat. "Oh, come on, Lil. When has McGonagall ever caught us doing anything before?" His grin was wolfish, all sharp teeth and reckless confidence. "Flicker here is very well-behaved, don’t worry. You won’t even know she’s around."

Lily's gaze lingered on you, her eyes tracing the soft tuft of fur on your head, the flick of your tail, the way your paws settled so comfortably against Sirius's arm. "Very well-behaved?" she questioned, her voice softening just slightly, almost as if she were addressing you rather than them. "You lot can barely keep yourselves out of trouble. What makes you think you can manage...this?"

"Because she loves us," James interjected confidently, leaning back in his chair with a smug expression plastered across his face. "We’ve got it all figured out. Flicker’s part of the family now, aren’t you, darling?"

You chirped softly, nuzzling further into Sirius's lap as if in agreement, and he chuckled, his hand resting warmly on your back. "See? Practically domesticated," he added with a grin, scratching just behind your ears. "And if you must know, I’m a very responsible pet owner."

Remus snorted softly, turning the page of the book in his lap with a flick of his wrist. "Responsible isn’t exactly the word I’d use," he murmured under his breath, though his eyes were alight with amusement.

Sirius feigned offense, his hand clutching dramatically at his chest. "Moony, you wound me. I’m an excellent caretaker." He glanced down at you, eyebrows raised as if prompting you to confirm his statement.

You looked up at him, blinking innocently before pressing your head against his hand, and he beamed with triumph. "See? She agrees."

Lily sighed, though you could see the smile threatening to break free at the edges of her mouth. "You three are absolutely ridiculous," she said finally, shaking her head as though she could hardly believe the scene before her. "I hope you know that."

"And yet," Remus said mildly, his eyes not leaving his book, "you still show up every morning to watch the show."

Her cheeks flushed just slightly, and she glanced away. "Only because someone has to make sure you don’t blow up the Great Hall."

Sirius smirked, leaning back against the bench and stretching his legs out comfortably. "Admit it, Evans. You’d miss us if we weren’t around to cause a bit of chaos."

Lily rolled her eyes but didn't deny it. "Right. Just try not to get her caught," she said finally, casting one last look at you, her expression softening just slightly. "She’s...cute."

"She’s perfect," Sirius replied, and his voice held just the faintest hint of affection as he gave you a gentle scratch behind the ears. "Don’t worry. We’ll keep her safe."

You chirped again, nestling deeper into his lap, and the three of them fell into easy banter, voices overlapping in the kind of harmony only they seemed to possess.

Breakfast was winding down, students rising from their seats in clusters, the dull roar of chatter punctuated by bursts of laughter. You were still nestled comfortably in Sirius’s lap, his hands absently scratching behind your ears as if you were a particularly affectionate house cat.

Remus was pouring over the Daily Prophet, brow furrowed in concentration, while James had taken to balancing toast crusts on his wand tip, much to the annoyance of a few first-years watching with wide eyes.

It was almost peaceful—until the heavy oak doors swung open with a theatrical flair, and Professor Slughorn strode in like he owned the place.

"My, my, my!" his voice boomed, catching not just your attention but the entirety of the Great Hall’s. Heads turned, whispers sparked like kindling, and you instinctively curled tighter against Sirius, your tiny paws gripping his robes with desperate urgency. He just chuckled, patting your side. "Easy there, Flicker. It’s just Sluggy. Probably heard about our little secret."

James muttered under his breath, "If he did, we’re finished. Think he knows about the fireworks last week?"

Remus didn’t look up from his paper. "If he did, we’d be scrubbing cauldrons for Filch by now."

Slughorn approached with that characteristic bounce in his step, velvet robes swishing dramatically behind him. His eyes locked onto you with the kind of delight usually reserved for crystallized pineapple or rare potions ingredients.

"A red panda?" he exclaimed, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. "Marvelous! Simply marvelous!" He clapped his hands together, the sound echoing off the stone walls. "Tell me, boys—where did you get such an exotic creature?"

You could feel the collective freeze of the Marauders, like time itself had stopped to watch them scramble for an answer. Your heart thudded painfully in your tiny chest, eyes darting wildly between their faces, as if silently begging them to think of something—anything—to explain your presence.

But Sirius, ever the performer, broke into a grin so wide it was almost dazzling. "Ah, Professor," he began smoothly, lifting you up a little, your paws dangling over his arm. "This is Flicker. Our new mascot."

You squeaked. Actually squeaked. Sirius’s hands were firm beneath your belly, holding you up as if you were some sort of prize he’d won at the fair, and you could feel the rush of blood pounding in your ears. Mascot? You twisted slightly, little paws swatting at Sirius’s fingers in protest, but he held fast, his grin never faltering.

James nearly choked on his pumpkin juice. "Our what?" he hissed out of the corner of his mouth, but Sirius ignored him, flashing Slughorn that perfect Black family smile, all charm and effortless grace.

Slughorn’s eyes widened with delight, his hands clapping together again. "Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!" he exclaimed, leaning in so close you could smell the sharp tang of peppermint on his breath.

"I’ve always said that Hogwarts could use more practical demonstrations. And what better way to teach students about magical creatures than by introducing a live one to them? A red panda! I’ve never seen one in person—oh, Kettleburn will be thrilled! I’ll send word immediately!"

Your tiny heart skipped several beats, panic creeping in like ice water down your spine. Kettleburn? you thought frantically, memories of his wild-eyed enthusiasm for anything remotely dangerous flickering in your mind.

You squirmed harder, your claws catching on the soft wool of Sirius’s robe, but he just chuckled under his breath, patting your head. "Settle down, Flicker," he whispered, too low for Slughorn to hear. "We’ll sort this out."

But his eyes told a different story. There was a glimmer of worry there, barely masked by the confidence in his grin.

"Professor," Remus interjected gently, folding his newspaper and setting it aside. "She’s... well, she’s not exactly trained for... public appearances." He shot you a pointed look as if trying to convey something reassuring, but all you could think of was the horror of being paraded in front of a crowd of wide-eyed students, poking and prodding at you with eager hands.

You whimpered. The sound was soft, barely audible, but Sirius’s grip tightened just slightly in response. His hand rubbed soothing circles into your fur, but it did nothing to still the trembling in your tiny frame.

"Nonsense!" Slughorn exclaimed, waving a hand dismissively. "What better way to teach the students about magical creatures than by introducing a live one to them? A bit of hands-on experience! Why, I bet Hagrid would love to assist!" His eyes sparkled even more.

"I’ll have word sent to Kettleburn today! We’ll feature her by next week’s lesson—oh, just imagine the students’ faces!"

Your ears flattened, and you shoved your little head into Sirius’s chest, burrowing as deep as you could. His hand cupped around you protectively, but the panic was setting in fast, thoughts racing through your mind faster than you could grasp them.

What if they find out? What if I can’t change back? What if I get stuck in some sort of magical creature sanctuary, away from all of them—away from—

Sirius’s voice rumbled through his chest, grounding you just a little. "Professor," he started, his voice uncharacteristically firm, "I’m afraid Flicker’s a bit... delicate. Not really suited for large crowds."

Slughorn chuckled heartily. "That’s what lessons are for, Mr. Black! Handling delicate creatures with care and understanding. I’ll speak with Kettleburn—oh, it’s going to be marvelous!" He clapped Sirius on the shoulder before turning on his heel, humming some sort of jovial tune as he strode out of the Great Hall, velvet robes swishing grandly behind him.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Finally, James broke it. "We’re doomed," he said flatly, leaning back in his chair with a look of pure resignation.

Remus ran a hand down his face. "Paraded in front of the entire school. Kettleburn. Hagrid. Merlin knows who else. This is a disaster."

You whimpered again, burrowing deeper into Sirius’s lap, and his hands came up to cradle you instinctively. "Shh, shh," he whispered, voice softer now, soothing. "We’ll fix it. Won’t we, Prongs?"

James straightened, though his expression was still somewhere between disbelief and reluctant determination. "We have to. If Slughorn sends word to Kettleburn... we’re out of options."

You peeked out from the crook of his arm, eyes wide and unblinking, searching their faces for something—anything—that resembled a plan. But there was only grim silence and the occasional fidget of hands nervously tapping against the table.

Remus met your gaze, his eyes softening. "We won’t let anything happen to you, Flicker. I promise."

You wanted to believe him. You really did. But the echo of Slughorn’s cheerful humming still lingered in the air, and all you could think about was Kettleburn’s wild grin as he prepared the next "practical lesson."

As the day stretched on, time seemed to move both too quickly and impossibly slow, each tick of the clock echoing louder in your ears. It wasn’t long before you were being passed around like some kind of peculiar trinket, hidden beneath folds of cloaks and tucked carefully into backpacks.

When Sirius had you, you were draped across his lap, his long fingers running absently through your fur as if you were merely a luxurious accessory, a living piece of velvet that purred and nestled against his hands. He would lean back in his chair during Transfiguration, feet kicked up on the desk, and idly scratch behind your ears as McGonagall’s voice droned on about advanced transformation techniques.

"Comfortable, Flicker?" he’d whisper, voice low enough that only you could hear. His grin would spread slow and lazy, eyes glimmering with mischief. "Not a bad life, is it? Carried around by the handsomest bloke in school, pampered and adored... could be worse."

You would huff in response, pawing at his chest in protest, though you had to admit there was some comfort in the warmth of his lap and the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your paws.

Sirius would chuckle at your weak protests, smoothing his hand down your back as if to coax the tension from your little frame. "There, there," he’d murmur. "You’re safe with me."

But when classes changed and the halls began to flood with students, you were hastily scooped up and deposited into James's arms. He’d cradle you close, barely breaking stride as he navigated the bustling corridors with effortless confidence.

His arms were strong and sure, and you had to admit there was something oddly reassuring about the way he held you—like you were something precious, something that needed protecting.

"All right there, Flicker?" he’d ask with a grin, glancing down at you nestled against his chest. You’d blink up at him, wide-eyed and a little dazed from the constant shuffling, and he’d laugh, that bright, boyish sound that echoed down the stone hallways. "Didn’t think you’d be having such an eventful week, did you?"

You wanted to snort, to roll your eyes, but the movement would draw attention, so instead, you nestled deeper into his arms, hiding your face beneath your tiny paws. He just chuckled, reaching up to brush a thumb along your head. "I know, I know," he murmured. "Just a little longer. Promise."

And so it went. Hour by hour, class by class, you were shuffled between them like some bizarre game of pass-the-parcel. In Charms, Remus would tuck you neatly into his satchel, a flap left carefully open so you could poke your head out and watch Flitwick wave his wand with enthusiastic little bursts of sparks.

You would feel the rumble of Remus’s voice as he answered questions with that effortless intelligence of his, and every so often, his hand would dip into the bag to scratch behind your ears absentmindedly.

"Don’t worry," he’d whisper to you when Flitwick’s back was turned. "We won’t let anyone see. You’re safe." His eyes would soften, the kind of warmth there that made your tiny heart stutter.

But the worst was yet to come.

The days passed in a blur of stolen glances and whispered reassurances, the Marauders seamlessly passing you between them with the kind of practiced ease that made it almost feel natural.

You were hidden in the folds of Sirius’s cloak during Transfiguration, nestled in Remus's satchel during Charms, and cradled against James’s chest as he barreled through the hallways with his usual reckless enthusiasm. It was strange, existing as something fragile and small, something to be protected—but it was safe, and for now, that was enough.

By the third day, you had almost begun to relax, lulled into a fragile sense of security by their careful handling and the way they always seemed to know just where to tuck you away from prying eyes. They joked and laughed like it was all a grand adventure, and for fleeting moments, you almost believed it too.

But the fourth day—the fourth day came with a sense of foreboding that settled in your bones the moment the morning sun filtered through the high windows of the common room. You woke curled up in Sirius’s lap, his hands gently combing through your fur as he murmured nonsense to you, the flicker of the fire casting warm shadows across his face.

“Big day today, Flicker,” he whispered, his voice too soft, too careful. He was trying to hide it, the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers faltered just slightly as they traced gentle circles behind your ears. You poked your head up, blinking sleepily at him, and he gave you a grin that was just a little too wide. “Slughorn’s got a bit of a surprise for us.”

James snorted from across the room, lacing up his shoes with quick, efficient movements. “More like a surprise for you, Pads. You’re the one who decided to parade her around like a trophy.”

Sirius shot him a look, one hand curling protectively around your back. “Oh, come off it. It’s not like I planned for him to catch sight of her.” He glanced back down at you, his grin softening. “Besides, Flicker here’s tougher than she looks. Right, love?”

You squeaked in response, pressing your paws against his chest as if to say I am most definitely not tougher than I look. Remus chuckled from where he leaned against the wall, arms crossed and expression wry. “Pretty sure she just called you a liar, Pads.”

“Oh, she’s always dramatic.” Sirius leaned back, letting you nestle into the crook of his arm. “She’ll be fine. We’ll be right there with her.”

But his words did little to ease the gnawing pit of anxiety growing in your stomach. You tried to curl up tighter, burying your head beneath your paws, but Sirius only scooped you up and set you gently into James’s waiting hands. “C’mon, Flicker. Time to be brave.”

You weren’t sure if bravery was something you could muster, but you had no choice. They bundled you up carefully, wrapped in Sirius’s scarf and tucked against James’s chest as they made their way through the winding corridors of the castle.

Students bustled past, chattering and laughing, completely oblivious to the small red panda being smuggled through the halls. For a moment, you almost wished you were one of them—unbothered, unaware, living in blissful ignorance of the chaos waiting just beyond the classroom door.

But when the heavy wooden doors to the Care of Magical Creatures classroom creaked open, all that false security crumbled into dust.

By the time Thursday morning rolled around, the anxiety had settled deep in your bones. You'd been shuffled from one Marauder to the next all week, crammed into bags, hidden under cloaks, and even smuggled into the dorms when Filch wasn't looking. But none of that compared to what awaited you in Care of Magical Creatures.

Slughorn was practically vibrating with excitement as students gathered around. He stood at the front of the room, his arms spread wide as if he were introducing a royal guest.

"Alright, class!" he bellowed, clapping his hands together with a flourish. "Today is a rather special occasion! We have a guest!"

You felt Sirius’s hand tighten around you as you sat curled up in his arms. “Alright, Star of the Show,” he murmured with a grin. “Ready to steal the spotlight?”

James leaned over, barely hiding his excitement. “She’s gonna make history. Hogwarts’ first red panda mascot.”

Remus sighed, rubbing his temples. “Or Hogwarts’ first red panda incident. Either way, it’s going to be memorable.”

Slughorn gestured grandly to where you were very much not trying to escape Sirius's grip. "Everyone, gather 'round! Today, we are honored—absolutely honored—to be introduced to Flicker, the Marauders' very own red panda!"

A ripple of whispers spread through the class, heads craning and eyes widening as Sirius, looking like he’d just won the lottery, sauntered forward and placed you on the front desk. You immediately flattened yourself against the surface, eyes darting nervously as dozens of faces leaned in.

“Blimey,” Marlene whispered, nudging Mary. “Did they actually steal it from a zoo?”

Sirius smirked. “Rescued. We like to think of it as a noble cause.”

James nodded solemnly. “She was in dire need of Marauder protection. A proper adoption, really.”

Lily raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “And what exactly does a red panda need protecting from?”

“Everything,” Remus replied dryly. “Including this class, apparently.”

Slughorn looked positively enchanted, his eyes practically twinkling as he leaned down to inspect you. “Marvelous! Simply marvelous! Such an exotic creature! And so tame! Have you named her?”

“Flicker,” Sirius announced proudly.

“Flicker,” Slughorn repeated, beaming. “How charming! I must say, I’ve never seen one so calm in captivity before.”

James bit back a laugh. “Calm. Right. Definitely calm.”

Slughorn, oblivious to the chaos that usually followed you, straightened up and addressed the class. “Now, students, let’s observe her behavior. Does anyone know what red pandas usually eat?”

Sirius shot a sly look at James. “Mostly biscuits and James’s Transfiguration notes.”

James looked affronted. “Oi! That was one time!”

Remus cleared his throat. “Twice. She ate your notes on Animagus transformations too.”

Slughorn clapped his hands again. “Well, we certainly don’t want to make her uncomfortable. Let’s see how she behaves if we give her some space. Mr. Black, would you mind setting her on the floor?”

You tensed immediately, looking up at Sirius in pure betrayal. Set you down? In a classroom full of curious students?

Sirius patted your head gently. “It’s alright, love. Go on, show them how well-behaved you are.”

He placed you carefully on the floor, and immediately, you froze, unsure whether to bolt or hide. The entire class was watching you expectantly, and you could feel your little heart pounding.

“Well...go on, then!” Slughorn encouraged. “Let’s see her move around!”

Marlene whispered, “Is she supposed to do something?”

Sirius leaned back, all confidence. “She’s planning. A strategic genius, our Flicker. You’ll see.”

James nodded sagely. “Yeah, you have to give her a minute to assess her surroundings. Very methodical.”

Remus hid a smile. “Or she’s just terrified of Slughorn’s cologne.”

Finally, you took a cautious step forward, sniffing the air. A girl giggled. “She’s so tiny! I didn’t know red pandas were this small.”

Sirius shot her a wink. “She’s compact. Portable chaos.”

Just then, Slughorn leaned down a bit too close for comfort, and you did the only reasonable thing for a red panda—darted between his legs and made a break for the nearest table.

“Oh!” Slughorn exclaimed, nearly toppling over. “Quick! Someone—”

James casually leaned against the desk. “Nah, she’s fine. Probably just checking for treats.”

Lily couldn’t help but snort. “This is a disaster waiting to happen.”

You finally settled under one of the desks, peeking out from behind a leg as if daring anyone to come closer. Sirius just grinned proudly. “Look at her. Master of stealth.”

Slughorn, now slightly disheveled, composed himself. “Well! It appears she’s rather spirited indeed! Perhaps we can use this opportunity to discuss animal behavior and instincts.”

James raised his hand, overly enthusiastic. “Oh, I know! She’s exhibiting classic...uh...panda instincts. You know, finding small, enclosed spaces to...strategize.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “James, that’s not a thing.”

Sirius was already heading over to coax you out, crouching down with a biscuit in his hand. “Alright, Flicker. C’mon. Don’t leave me hanging here. Be a good girl.”

With a huff, you slowly edged forward, cautiously nibbling on the offered treat while keeping a wary eye on Slughorn.

Slughorn seemed satisfied, nodding wisely. “A fascinating creature, indeed. I shall have to look into care instructions for next week. Perhaps even arrange a guest lecture with Professor Kettleburn!”

You froze mid-chew, and Sirius shot James a look of pure panic. “Next week?”

James mouthed back, You deal with it.

Remus just sighed, already making mental notes on how to stage a panda disappearance before the next class.

By the time Friday evening rolled around, the entire castle seemed to sigh with relief. You had survived a week of smuggling, hiding, and narrowly avoiding catastrophe as a very chaotic red panda, and now the Marauders had one final mission: turning you back.

The Room of Requirement was dimly lit with soft, golden light, the enchanted ceiling glittering with stars that twinkled like distant, gentle promises.

You sat in the center of the room, curled up comfortably on a cushion Sirius had insisted you have. Around you, the boys were gathered—James with his wand out, Sirius cross-legged and practically vibrating with anticipation, and Remus standing just in front of you, wand poised but gaze soft and steady.

“Well,” Sirius began, drumming his fingers against his knees, “It’s been a good run, Flicker. I daresay you’re the best-looking red panda Hogwarts has ever seen.”

James snorted, flicking a stray leaf out of your fur. “I mean, she’s also the only red panda Hogwarts has ever seen.” He paused, grinning. “But still. You wore it well.”

Remus crouched down to meet your eyes, his expression gentle. “You ready?” he asked softly, his hand coming to rest on the top of your head. His touch was soothing, his palm warm against your fur.

You stared up at him, your little heart beating just a bit faster, and then you nodded—or, well, you thought you nodded. Sirius gasped. “Did you see that? She nodded! Merlin, she’s even cute when she’s agreeing to get zapped.”

James elbowed him. “It’s not zapping, Padfoot. It’s reversing. There’s a difference.”

“Both involve magic and potential explosions,” Sirius replied cheerfully.

“Enough,” Remus said, shaking his head with a fond smile. He straightened, rolling his shoulders back. “Alright. Here goes nothing.”

You held your breath as he raised his wand, his voice steady and clear. “Reverto Corpus.”

A warm, glowing light shot from the tip of his wand, enveloping you in a shimmering haze. It wasn’t like the last time—this time, it was gentle, like sunlight filtering through autumn leaves. You could feel the shift, your bones stretching, your fur retreating, and for a moment, everything was weightless and light.

When the magic faded, you were there, back to your human form, sitting in the center of the cushion with your hair tousled and your eyes wide with surprise.

You blinked once, twice—then looked down at your hands, flexing your fingers as if you couldn’t quite believe they were back.

For a heartbeat, the room was silent, the boys staring at you as if you were some sort of mirage. And then, all at once—

“Y/N!” they shouted in unison, voices overlapping with pure, unrestrained joy.

Before you could even catch your breath, you were pulled to your feet and swallowed in a blur of arms and warmth. James reached you first, nearly lifting you off your feet as he wrapped you in a bear hug, squeezing so tightly you almost forgot how to breathe. “You’re back!” he exclaimed, voice muffled against your hair. “Properly back! Merlin, I missed your stupid face.”

“You missed my face?” you wheezed, squished against his chest. “I missed my hands! You have no idea how annoying it is to eat with paws!”

James laughed, pulling back just enough to beam down at you, his glasses slightly askew and eyes bright with happiness. “You did look pretty adorable, though. All fuzzy and helpless.”

“Helpless?” you echoed, incredulous. “I bit Sirius twice!”

“And I still have the scar,” Sirius announced proudly, shoving James aside with a dramatic flourish. His hands cupped your face, eyes raking over you like he was memorizing every feature. “There she is,” he whispered, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “There’s my favorite troublemaker.”

You grinned up at him, reaching up to tug at his hair. “Missed me, huh? You only wanted me back so I wouldn’t chew up your shoes again.”

“Hey!” Sirius scoffed, lips curving into a grin. “That was one time, and they were brand new!”

You laughed, bright and unrestrained, and Sirius leaned down without warning to press a loud, smacking kiss to your forehead. “There,” he said, his grin widening. “Just in case you missed those too.”

“Absolutely didn’t,” you replied, wiping your forehead dramatically. “Ugh, now I’m probably cursed.”

“Oi!” he laughed, shoving you gently. “I’ll have you know I’m very hygienic.”

“Right,” you teased. “That’s why Remus has to confiscate your cologne every week.”

Sirius gasped, clutching his chest. “Et tu, Flicker?”

Remus was next, his approach softer, his eyes searching yours with a kind of disbelief. He stepped forward slowly, like you might disappear if he moved too fast.

His hands came up to cradle your face gently, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. “You’re alright?” he murmured, voice just above a whisper. “No lingering side effects? No sudden urges to climb trees?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “I make no promises about the trees.”

His smile grew wider, and before you could say another word, his arms were around you, pulling you close. His chin rested on your shoulder, and his voice was softer, just for you. “Missed you so so much, dovey” he murmured, his voice rough with sincerity.

You held him just as tightly, squeezing your eyes shut as you breathed him in. “I missed you too, Remmy” you whispered. “Even if you did laugh when I fell off the bookshelf.”

“That was objectively funny,” he murmured against your hair, and you could feel him smiling.

You swatted his shoulder playfully as you pulled back. “Next time I’m a red panda, I’m clawing your jumper.”

James clapped his hands together, practically bouncing on his feet. “Alright, I say we celebrate! Three butterbeers, on me!”

“You mean on my tab,” Sirius corrected, raising an eyebrow.

James waved him off. “Details.”

You laughed, the sound filling the room and spilling into the walls like sunlight. You hadn’t realized how much you missed your own voice until it was back. Until they were all here, crowding around you with so much love and warmth you almost couldn’t breathe.

Sirius draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side like you belonged there. “Well, now that you’re back, I guess we have to start sneaking you properly into the common room again.”

“Please don’t suggest a disguise,” Remus groaned. “I’m not turning her back into a panda just so you can live out your fantasy of owning an exotic pet.”

Sirius grinned, entirely unbothered. “Admit it, you miss her climbing into your lap.”

Remus’s cheeks flushed slightly, but he didn’t deny it.

James raised his hands dramatically. “A toast! To Flicker—who lives on forever in our hearts, even though she was rubbish at staying hidden.”

“Hey!” you cried, laughing. “I was stealthy! You lot just dragged me everywhere!”

“Semantics,” Sirius said with a wink.

And as they led you out of the Room of Requirement, arms draped around your shoulders and laughter filling the halls, you couldn’t help but think—there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

#colouredbyd #marauders era #marauders x reader #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x reader fluff #poly!marauders fluff #remus lupin angst #poly!marauders fic #dead gay wizards from the 70s #marauders fluff #remus lupin x reader fluff #sirius black x reader #james potter x reader #remus lupin fluff #james potter fluff #sirius black fluff #marauders drabble #sirius black x reader fluff #james potter x reader fluff

713 notes · View notes