#sebastian sallow x reader

[star-reaper]

brb rereading this until i have it memorized

The Archivist - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: Weeks after discovering some ancient tomes you're unable to decipher, you reach out to the Ministry of Magic Archives for help decoding the timeworn pages. The last thing you'd expected was for Sebastian Sallow to show up, much less for him to be so... attractive. Had he always looked like that?

Alternatively summarized as Sebastian Sallow pursued a professional career as a book nerd and also happens to be really well versed in sex.

Word Count: 6,969 (LMAO)

Warnings: 18+. aged up characters, explicit sexual content, size difference, Sebastian wearing glasses again

Up on Ao3 here for your viewing pleasure

You honestly didn’t think you’d ever thrown on clothes faster than you did the day someone apparated into your living room with a deafening crack, followed by a crash and a muffled, “Shit, ow.” 

If you were to die, you weren’t eager to do so half-naked and half-asleep. 

After hastily tying your robe around your waist and stuffing your feet in a pair of deteriorating slippers, you cautiously stuck your head into the hallway, the unruly strands of your bed head sticking to your cheeks and poking you in the eye as you assessed the situation. 

At the end of the hall you could see a stack of books scattered across the floor, along with a previously organized collection of newspapers now strewn over the top of a prone body. Said body was stirring beneath the crumpled parchment, and you bit your lip and wished desperately for coffee as you weighed your options. 

Option one: it was a murderer and you should leave immediately. The only problem was that the hallway leading to the front door was now blocked. Shit. 

Option two: it was a burglar, and if you could remember where you’d left your wand last night, you could petrify the man in place until officials came to your aid. 

Option three: it was a murdering burglar, and you might as well attempt to find out as much as you could before you wound up gruesomely cut down so you could at least haunt the bastard. 

As the concealed figure attempted to sit up, you heard another thump as something fell from above them, followed by an irate groan, and you gripped the doorway to your bedroom tightly as you managed to call out a meek, “Hello?” 

All movement and noises in the living room ceased for a moment, the air still and silent. You swore if the intruder dropped so much as a pin, you would hear it. The pair of feet belonging to the unknown man dragged along the floor as he seemingly stood himself up, and figuring that no burglar would be such a noisy wreck, you took your chances and slowly made your way down the hall to take in the damage done to your living space. 

Bizarre as it was to be so civil with someone who’d essentially broken into your home, you rounded the corner and found yourself asking, “Are you alright?” 

You were met with your potential adversary as he turned around, and you were equal parts surprised and confused to discover that it was none other than Sebastian Sallow. It had been years since you’d last seen him, the two of you having gone your separate ways after graduation as you continued hunting down ancient magic sites and he pursued a career within the Ministry. The last letter you’d received from him had come in a little over a year ago, sadly informing you that his sister had finally passed, albeit peacefully. 

To find him now standing in the midst of your demolished living room was a shock in and of itself. 

“Sebastian?” you asked incredulously, your eyes raking down his disheveled but well dressed body. He had certainly grown since you’d last seen him, his long legs accentuated by pressed slacks, and the suspenders that wrapped over his sculpted shoulders left little to the imagination. The button up he wore was just shy of being too small for his broad figure, and when you glanced back up at him, you watched as he brought one of his hands up to his face to fix his crooked glasses. 

“Hi,” he said lamely, flashing you a somewhat sheepish smile. “Sorry for the mess– I, uh– well, I think I landed on something when I popped in.” 

Your eyes flicked down once more to the toppled stacks of books that now covered the floor, and your brow cocked of its own accord as you breathed out a laugh, “You don’t say.”

Still reeling from the abrupt wake up call, you could only stare dumbstruck as Sebastian fixed his clothing and picked invisible lint off of his shirt, then offered his hand to you. “Sorry about the books. And the, uh, language. I’m here about the old tomes you found?” 

As you accepted his outstretched hand and tried not to pass out from the firmness of it, you blinked and attempted to figure out what he was referring to. “Tomes?” 

“The ones you wanted looked over?” He let go of your hand to rifle through the small satchel strapped to his thigh, and it took a herculean effort not to drool over the sheer width of his leg. Merlin’s bloody balls… you’d been holed up indoors for too long. “You sent in this consultation request a few weeks ago,” he said, pulling out a small slip of parchment decorated in your familiar scrawl, and then it all started to come back to you. 

It had been nearly a month since, but during your last excursion to Scotland, you’d come across a set of unique, fragile tomes buried deep in an ancient magic site there. As curious as you’d been to read through their contents, the text within was hardly legible, and in truth, you weren’t even sure it was written in English. In a bid to still make use of the age-old books, you had reached out to the Ministry of Magic Archives to have someone potentially aid you in deciphering the timeworn pages. After almost a month with no response, you had simply shelved them all and moved on to planning your next trip.

“I completely forgot,” you muttered, taking the paper from Sebastian to read it over. “I kind of gave up hoping that the Ministry would send someone.”

“They weren’t planning on it,” he started to say, sounding conflicted as to whether or not he should continue. “But after I got my hands on the request, I took something of a personal interest in the case.” 

Jokingly, you teased, “You hold that much sway working in the Archives?” 

“I do when I’m the Archivist.” 

“You’re the Archivist?” Your jaw dropped comically fast, your eyes wider than saucers as you processed his statement. Suddenly you were looking at your former friend in a whole new light. In your mind, you had always assumed the Ministry’s Archivist would be… well, ancient. Old and withered, graying and feeble. Not youthful and– quite frankly– hot. “How did that happen?” 

Sebastian rocked back on his heels as he stuffed his thumbs in his pockets, the very picture of modesty as he shrugged, “It’s technically my trial period since the old Archivist just died a few months ago. But yeah, I guess my thirst for knowledge and reading habits paid off. At the very least it impressed the Minister enough for him to promote me.”

Eventually you managed to pick your chin up off the floor so you were no longer gaping at him like a fish, and you bashfully tucked a particularly stubborn strand of hair behind your ear as you cleared your throat and said, “Well, congratulations then. Glad to hear you’re doing well for yourself.”

Sebastian stared at you for a long moment before laughing softly under his breath, his hand sweeping through the front of his curly hair, “Thanks. But anyways, I can take a look at those tomes now if you’ve still got them?” 

“Oh, yeah, sure. They’re on the shelf by the couch, let me just get changed.” 

“No worries,” Sebastian said quickly, grinning widely as he moved around you further into the living room, his eyes roving over you momentarily. “I’ve got this.”

Did he just… check you out? No way, you thought, shaking the idea from your mind entirely. 

You tracked the brunet as he strode over to the cluttered shelf beside the sofa, watching intently as he moved a few books around until he found the unmistakable tomes propped against the wooden panels. With the utmost care, Sebastian carefully withdrew one of the three with delicate fingers, his touch featherlight and ever conscious of the fragile nature of the bound piece of foreign literature. As he thoughtfully deposited the book on top of the coffee table, you couldn’t help but admire how gentle he was being with it; with hands that big, you found his tender touch to be something of a contrast to his entire person. 

Shamelessly, you also found yourself wondering how those hands of his might feel against your skin. 

Beating back your lustful thoughts with a mental brick, you managed to say with an even tone, “I’m surprised you can tell what’s what in that mess of a shelf. I’ve been told I have a bit of a hoarding problem– most people can’t separate the floor from the walls.” 

“Well, I’m not most people,” he retorted, flashing you a dazzling smile from over his shoulder. “It takes a bookworm to know one. My old overseer at the Archives used to tell me I ‘had no shelf control’.”

The silence that settled over the room was utterly loud, and as Sebastian’s face took on the hue of a ripe tomato, you were fighting a grin with every fiber of your being. Your lips contorted into something resembling a downward smile while the Archivist-in-training turned back to the bookshelf, dragging a hand down his flushed cheeks as a pained groan weaseled its way out of him. “Please forget I said that. I’ve picked up on one too many library jokes in the past five years.” 

Sweet Merlin, he was dorky as hell. Please leave, excessively hot Archivist. Either leave or stay for about six hours and don’t go until I’m ready to let you.

To spare him his dignity and also because you needed to refrain from staring at his attractive backside, you spun on your heel to head into the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink?” 

“Please,” he sighed in agreement, sounding all too excited about the change in topic. 

“I’ve got tea, coffee, and… water,” you finished pathetically. The barren cupboards above the pantry nearly brought a tear to your eye, and you made a mental note to do some shopping later if you had the time. 

Sebastian set the second tome down on the coffee table at the same time he called out to you, “Tea is fine, thank you.” 

It took a smidge longer than normal to boil the water, seeing as you had to pause your efforts to find your wand buried beneath the piles of maps in your bedroom. Once you had it in hand, however, you whipped up two steaming cups of black tea and returned to Sebastian minutes later to hand his cup over to him. He took it graciously, plainly eyeing you up over the brim of the mug as he took a tentative sip, and your stomach flipped at the suggestive look he fixed you with. 

“I’m a little jealous, you’ve got one hell of a collection here. I almost wish I could take some of these old books off your hands.” 

“Mm,” you hummed around a mouthful of tea, swallowing pointedly. Sebastian’s eyebrow twitched minutely. “Well, I think it might be time for me to clean house a bit anyways. If you wanted to, you could always come back and take your pick of what you like.” 

His brows rose momentarily before settling, a muscle in his defined jaw ticking as he glanced between you and the tomes on the table. Then with a voice like pure sin, Sebastian smoothly said, “And what if I like more than the books?”

Shit, shit. Redirect. You fought to employ every ounce of self-control in your body so you wouldn’t just jump into his strong arms and straddle him right there, but you were acutely aware of a few facts; you looked like you had fought a Hippogriff in your sleep, you had sorely little on under your robe, and Sebastian's eyes had been devouring the noticeable outline of your collarbone for the last minute or so. Fuck. 

“Then it sounds, uh,” you started to say, struggling to form words with the broad shouldered Adonis across from you seemingly undressing you with his eyes. “Like we might be on the same page.” It was the truth– you were as interested in the Archivist as you were in the purpose for his visit– but once the unintentional pun registered, you rolled your eyes and dug the heel of your palm into one eye, swearing softly. To his credit, Sebastian just laughed, taking another hearty sip of his tea as you shyly smiled up at him. 

With more work to be done back at the Ministry and your tomes in hand, Sebastian dutifully let you know that while he couldn't stay presently, he would absolutely be coming back later that night. He followed you into the kitchen to deposit his cup beside the sink, intentionally reaching over your shoulder to set the mug down before letting his fingers ghost along the skin of your neck. Goosebumps broke out all over your body at the contact, and when you turned around to face him with the counter pressing against your rear, his hands came to deftly adjust the revealing neckline of your robe with a coy smirk tugging at his lips. 

“See you at seven,” he purred, leaving you a blushing mess in your kitchen as he stepped back, winked, then apparated away. 

—

By the time seven o’clock rolled around, you had bathed, gone to the market to replenish your sorry excuse of a pantry, tidied up the previously demolished sitting area, and started cooking dinner. Part of you felt like you were getting ahead of yourself with everything, but after spending the entirety of your day reflecting on the stolen glances Sebastian had sent your way and his rather telling comment in the living room, you told yourself it couldn’t get any more obvious than that. 

He had always been rather cute during your time at school, but something about seeing him grown and fully matured had ignited a fire in your veins that stubbornly stayed burning for hours. 

When he showed up five minutes early at six fifty-five with freshly washed hair and wearing a darker version of his earlier outfit, your doubts all but vanished. Clearly you weren’t the only one itching to make a good impression. 

Sebastian followed you into the living room, now noticeably cleaner than it had been earlier in the morning, and held up the bottle of wine he’d been holding at his side. “I know you’ve got tea and water, but uh. I figured why not. It’s Friday after all.”

You smiled softly and let your hands brush against his as you took the wine from him, curiously watching as his fingers flexed when his arm returned to his side. “Thank you. I take it the Archivist doesn’t go to work on the weekends, then?” 

“The Archivist in training doesn’t, but I’m sure my free time will be a commodity before long. I’m pretty sure the last one frequently slept under his desk at the Ministry Headquarters. What about you? Any drab desk jobs to speak of?” 

“Nope,” you said, gesturing to the couch as you turned to head back into the kitchen. “When I need the extra money I’ll help out Sirona at The Three Broomsticks, but for the most part my explorations and Professor Fig’s estate hold me over well enough. I’m hardly ever home anyways, so it’s not like there’s many expenses to keep track of.” 

“I see,” Sebastian huffed as he collapsed into the couch, spreading his long arms along the top of the backrest as he took in the neater state of the living room. “I’m guessing your adventuring is why there’s so many books in the first place. Have you ever thought about upsizing?”

“Hardly,” you set the bottle down on the kitchen counter and chanced a look at the man on the sofa, oddly pleased to see him so at ease in the midst of your cluttered home. “I’d much rather downsize the collection. I don’t even need the majority of what I have– I’ve read through it all ten times over.” 

He nodded, “Fair enough.” 

“Anyway, I imagined you’d be hungry, so dinner’s almost ready.” 

“Oh, damn,” Sebastian mumbled, sitting forward to run a hand through his drying hair as you flitted around the kitchen. “You didn’t have to.”

“Unless you planned on feeding yourself later, I think most shops will be closed by the time you leave,” you said pointedly, turning to hide your grin when you observed the brunet flushing bright red. Miraculously you resisted the urge to add ‘if at all’ to the end of your statement. You unearthed the corkscrew buried deep within the kitchen drawers and popped open the wine bottle, filling two glasses before striding back into the living room to hand one over to Sebastian. “Feel free to take a look at any of the books, see if any of them might be worth taking to the Archives.”

The larger man gave you a lopsided smirk as he took the offered glass and clinked it gently against yours, muttering his agreement before shamelessly ogling your retreating form returning to the kitchen. The cinched waist of your otherwise simple dress was incredibly distracting. He elected not to sift through the piles upon piles of books, opting to instead watch as you hummed to yourself and stirred something on the stove, which Sebastian was beginning to realize smelled pretty fantastic. He was grateful for the distance between you both so you couldn’t hear his stomach growling. 

Once the food was ready, you ate with comfortable conversation flowing between the two of you the entire time. You asked Sebastian what he did in his soon to be nonexistent free time, and you were surprised to hear that he had taken on the role of Feldcroft’s token handyman. In his own words, the muggle approach to fixing things was relatively therapeutic, and he loved getting his hands dirty almost as much as he loved having his nose burrowed in book pages. It explained his physical appearance, at the very least. Until now, you’d just assumed he had a habit of squatting massive stacks of books in the Archives when he was bored. 

In turn he had asked you about your hobbies, about the ancient magic sites you visited, and about living on-the-go so regularly. It was so normal for you now that you barely batted an eye at being away from home for weeks at a time, and you told him as much with a half-hearted shrug. 

Lazily, you swirled the remaining wine around in your glass, bringing it to your mouth as you murmured, “It’s not like there’s anything waiting for me here, so I don’t mind it.”

Sebastian watched you intently as you finished off your drink, taking in the pretty flush decorating your cheeks and the delectable way you licked your wine-stained lips in the moment that followed. “Anything, or anyone?” 

“Hm?” 

“You don’t have anyone to come home to? No pets, no kids…” he trailed off, the rest of his question dangling in the air like a lone cloud. Your eyes fell to Sebastian’s hand as he sensually ran his pinched fingers along the stem of his own glass, and his half-hooded eyes hidden behind his glasses said everything in place of the missing portion of his sentence. 

No lover, is what you knew he was indirectly asking. 

“Do you see anyone else here?” you teased, the sides of your mouth curling into a coy smile.

“No,” Sebastian retorted, pushing his empty glass away as he sat back in his seat, amusement etched across his handsome face. “Then again, it doesn’t hurt to check. Had to make sure I was reading things correctly.” 

You perched your elbow on the armrest of your chair and balanced your chin on top of your fist casually before asking, “Was that another one of your jokes?” Hoping that you looked more confident than you felt, you mirrored his position and crossed one of your legs over the other, taking immense satisfaction in the way the brunet’s throat bobbed at the sight of your legs outlined through your attire. 

Sebastian looked puzzled for a moment before realizing what he’d said, and he rolled his eyes at the same time an airy laugh spilled from your lips. “An accidental one, make no mistake,” he moved forward to the edge of his seat, leaning forward to play with one of the folds of your dress with his index finger. “But I have been thinking about you all day, and I may or may not have convinced myself that you’re way out of my league.” 

“You should be more confident,” you whispered, dropping your hand to clutch at the one the Archivist was inching towards your leg with. His fingers immediately spread to accommodate your smaller ones, and you tugged him a smidge closer so your noses were mere inches apart. Jokingly, you taunted him further by asking, “Did you still want to look at my book collection?” 

Before you could so much as yelp, Sebastian closed the distance between the two of you in a flash and pressed his lips to yours fervently, any lingering awkwardness falling away like leaves on a tree. His free hand came to curl around the back of your neck, holding you firmly against his mouth as he angled his head to the side to deepen the kiss further, and you couldn’t help but moan against him at the brutish feeling of his broad hand holding you in place. 

He pulled away just enough to brush a tinier, more delicate kiss against the tip of your nose before he sighed, “I really don’t give a damn about the books right now.” 

A budding Archivist not caring about books? The scandal, is what you wanted to say, but then Sebastian’s lips were back on yours, swallowing your pending comment with a ferocity that had your stomach churning wantonly. Those brilliant hands of his left your neck and your hand to trail along your waist, his fingers digging firmly into the bodice of your dress to pull you towards him, and you followed his guidance all too willingly as he urged you from your seat. Within seconds you were in his lap, melting against him as he ground his hips up into yours while simultaneously using his hands to rock you against his hardening cock, and a satisfied groan emitted from him as you allowed him to move you as he pleased. 

In-between kisses, Sebastian managed to croak out, “Bedroom?” 

You barely managed a nod, too enthralled by the man under you to form actual words, and at the same time you dove back in for another heated kiss, Sebastian looped an arm around your back and the other under your ass as he stood up, lifting you with him as though you weighed nothing. Instinctively you hooked your legs around his hips, letting him haul you along to your bedroom while your hands flew to his neck to clutch at him ardently in a bid to keep your mouth glued to his. His ability to multi-task was something to compliment later on, because he kept walking and working his mouth over yours with a finesse that bordered on inhuman. 

The next thing you knew you were being thrown down on the mattress, bouncing in place briefly before you had to bite your lip to stifle a curse as you watched Sebastian fucking crawl up the bed towards you, predatory and sexy as hell. As soon as he was within reach, you grabbed for one of his suspender straps and pulled him closer, kissing him once again and moaning eagerly when you felt his hand grip at the seductive curve of your waist to squeeze before he settled on top of you. With his knees on either side of you, it was impossible to overlook the feeling of his achingly hard cock pressing down against your leg, and Sebastian groaned loudly when you tried lifting your hips to convey your impatience. 

“Someone’s excited,” he murmured against your swollen lips, grinning to himself as you worked to catch your breath. “Have you been thinking about me, too?” 

“Yes,” you gasped, your train of thought momentarily derailing when Sebastian moved so his chest was pressing against your clothed breasts, his hips flush with yours to better grind against you. “Don’t you own a mirror?”

Instead of replying to your thinly veiled compliment, Sebastian dipped his head into the crook of your neck to nip and kiss his way along your jaw with a rumbling moan, the force of his ministrations forcing your head back against the pillows. He was as eager as you were, that much was certain. As he rutted his concealed cock against your thigh, you heard and felt him shudder against you, and in an attempt to silence himself, the Archivist’s plush lips latched firmly onto a patch of skin under your jaw to suck a mark there. 

The stinging sensation of him biting down had your eyes fluttering shut, your entire being relishing in the light pain his teeth bestowed upon you, and Sebastian blindly reached for your wrist to pin your arm above your head. The dominant display had you voicing your approval in the form of a low moan, enjoying how being stretched out for him allowed for his other hand to rake down your side to start bunching up your dress. His movements didn’t cease as he lifted his hips slightly to free up the rest of the fabric trapped beneath him, and he expertly collected the material into a disheveled heap below your navel. When his dexterous fingers ghosted along the waistband of your undergarments, your next breath caught in your throat and caused you to gasp shakily. 

You felt as Sebastian’s lips curved into a smirk against your spit-slick skin before sitting back on his heels to murmur, “You’re so noisy.” 

Through his lashes, he watched as a brilliant flush swept up your neck to cover your face, and you timidly tried to hide your cheeks with the back of your free hand. “S-Sorry,” you stammered, but the man above you was having absolutely none of your self-consciousness. 

Your mediocre shield was wrenched away from your face and pinned up alongside your other hand in an instant, and you blinked up at Sebastian in blatant surprise as he leaned menacingly over you. “Don’t stop,” he implored you, biting his lip as he took in the sight of you beneath him. “I love it. 

The brunet secured your wrists into one of his hands so he could drop the other one back to your aching center, swiping two of his fingers up your slit through your underwear to feel the wetness that had collected there. The sensation left you breathless, another choked gasp weaseling its way past your lips and earning a dark chuckle from Sebastian. His digits moved up to slide beneath the fabric blocking his path, and a low groan sounded from him as he felt how truly soaked you were from his efforts. Without looking away from your pinched features, he gingerly slid a single finger in, biting his lip hungrily at the way your lips parted and your head rolled to the side when he began steadily pumping in and out of you. 

When you felt his thumb begin to rub against your clit, your eyelids fluttered shut from the intense pleasure that washed over you, pulling a strangled whimper from you. “Fuck, Sebastian–”

The hand he had securely wrapped around your wrists tightened a fraction to draw your mind out of the gutter, and he roughly gritted out, “Look at me, darling– open those pretty eyes for me.” You couldn’t help but oblige him when he referred to you so sweetly, and when you cracked your eyes open once again, his body seemed to shudder with delight as he growled, “So fucking perfect. My name sounds damn good when you say it like that.”

With his gaze burning into yours and the close proximity between the two of you, you didn’t think the overwhelming euphoria you felt could get any better. That is, until he added a second finger into the mix. The initial stretch was felt only briefly before his thumb pressed against your sensitive bundle of nerves, the persistent ministrations against your clit muting any discomfort and leaving you arching brainlessly beneath him as that hot, incessant feeling in your gut roared to life. It was tantalizing, and your hips bucked off the mattress in an attempt to chase his movements and reach the climax you were utterly desperate for. 

“Please, please,” you begged mindlessly, your desire to come so potent that it was almost painful. “Please, Sebastian, please.” 

“Already?” he tsk’d mockingly, shaking his head minutely as he eagerly wet his bottom lip and removed his thumb from your center. “I think you can hold on a bit longer, don’t you? I’d much rather end this with my cock, if it’s all the same to you.” 

The lack of friction sobered you up instantly, and the lustful haze that had clouded your mind cleared enough for you to blink blearily up at him, a small frown playing on your lips. “Really?” 

Sebastian cocked a brow at you, as though daring you to tell him he was being unreasonable. “Would you rather this end with my hands?” 

You tried to roll your hips up into his hand before relenting rather quickly, and you muttered, “F-Fine. Just hurry up, I might throttle you if I have to wait any longer.” 

Sebastian grinned wickedly at the way your back arched when he curled his fingers inside of you before torturously withdrawing them. A small sigh slipped from you when he let go of your wrists and slid away to hastily begin shedding his clothing, taking care to be gentler with his glasses as he set them down on the nightstand, and once he was wholly bare before you, the only thing you could do was stare. 

His physique was mind boggling; toned, defined muscles made up every inch of his torso, accentuated by broad shoulders that you were convinced didn’t belong anywhere near someone who worked in a glorified library of all places. His skin was sun-kissed and peppered with freckles, a testament to the aforementioned physical labor he claimed to enjoy. It hadn’t made much sense to you before when he’d told you– forgoing magic to use his own hands to help fix things. But if a habit like that gave a man a body like his, you would never doubt his preferences again. 

All of Sebastian looked positively divine, including his cock. Thick, hard, and twitching tellingly, it arched proudly against his taut stomach, the head violently red and already leaking beads of pre-cum in response to the situation at hand. You swallowed thickly when you realized that that would be inside of you, and you were suddenly grateful that he’d told you to wait. Not to discredit his fingers or anything, but you had a nagging feeling that you would enjoy his lower parts far more than his hands. 

Ignoring the nervousness that settled in your stomach, you sat up to quickly pull the sleeves of your dress down your arms, wriggling out of the attire quickly before throwing the bunched up material to the floor. As you reached down to slide your underwear off, Sebastian returned to kneel in front of you and stopped you by lightly pushing you flat against the pillows, then ran his hands along the plane of your stomach. 

“Allow me,” he said chivalrously, taking care to gently slip his fingers under the waistband and sensually remove the material entirely. With nothing else separating you from him, Sebastian took his time eating you alive with his eyes, letting his hands drag up your thighs and squeeze at your knees before pushing your legs apart so he had space to siddle forward. The blunt head of his cock bumped against your slick cunt, and a barely there shudder ran down your spine in anticipation. 

It took a good amount of self-control for you to let Sebastian press into you achingly slow, his eyes pinching shut while his teeth savaged his bottom lip, and when he was finally sheathed inside of you fully, the brunet was practically shaking with the desire to fuck your brains out. He waited, though, his palms sliding from your knees to your upper thighs to dig his fingers into the skin there, raking his hungry gaze over you while he gave you a moment to adjust. 

You appreciated the sentiment, because Merlin– he was big. It was impossible to overlook every delicious inch of him pressing against your inner walls, the subtle grinding of his hips stretching you out more and more to the point where your breath continuously caught in your throat. It felt good, though. Good enough to leave you wondering why you’d never sought him out when the two of you were still in school together. 

At some point, however, you realized Sebastian was fucking with you. It probably had something to do with the repetitive, shallow thrusts he teased you with, and when you craned your neck up to look at him, he was already staring at you with a wide grin splitting his face, his tongue poking out between his teeth. 

“W-What?” you grumbled, your hands fisting in the sheets. “Are you going to make me beg or something? I already said please.” 

“I was just enjoying the face you were making,” Sebastian said, rocking his hips just enough to leave you arching towards him. “You look like you’re trying really hard to keep it together. It’s cute.” 

“I’m flattered,” you breathed out around an airy laugh, then wriggled your hips down in an attempt to bait the Archivist into moving. Mercifully, it worked. 

Sebastian gave a throaty moan, leaning forward to brace one hand on the side of your waist while the other gripped at your thigh tighter, and he withdrew his cock languidly before plunging back in. Your breathing hitched and your head fell back against the pillows at the abrupt sensation, and the sight of you so obviously enthralled by his efforts was what expelled the remainder of his patience. 

Holding onto your thigh with bruising strength, Sebastian fell into a steady, toe-curling pace. He pulled you onto his cock with every deep plunge, digging his feet into the bed to lend some force to his thrusts, and his reward was the sound of your shaky voice reverberating off of the bedroom walls as your spine rounded. You keened loudly, overcome with both the feeling and the sight of Sebastian– because not only was he deceptively good at rendering your mind into a puddle of mush, he looked amazing while he was doing it. The muscles in his arms rippled as he supported himself above you, his brown curls falling into his face as his head hung heavy between his sculpted shoulders, and when your arousal had you clamping down on his cock harder, those full, kissable lips of his fell open around a guttural groan. 

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he grit out through his clenched teeth, gazing down at you with lust-dark eyes that made your blood burn hot in your veins. “So bloody gorgeous– like a fucking work of art.”

His praises left you whining in earnest, and you didn’t bother to keep your voice down in the slightest. With every sinful noise that escaped you, Sebastian’s hold on you seemed to intensify, and his thick cock filled you harder with every desperate pump of his hips. His ragged breathing left you craving more of him– all of him– and you rutted against him as much as was physically possible in a bid to take him deeper. 

Sebastian picked up on your desires wordlessly, and he shifted his hold on your thigh so his hand was looped around it to better pull it to the side, giving him the room he needed to spear into you with wicked precision. It also allowed him to discover what you sounded like crying out for more, your voice reedy and strident within the four walls of the bedroom, and when he shifted his hips down to achieve new depths, your moans echoed around him. He had to be hitting a good spot. 

“Right there, Sebastian, fuck– right there–” 

Your lower half was positively shaking, and Sebastian was honestly at his limit. He sat up momentarily before grabbing both of your legs, watching as you blearily tried to figure out what was going on while he pulled your knees over his shoulders. Moving over you swiftly and urgently, he bent you back and rammed his thick cock back into your tight heat, animalistic grunts sounding from him as you arched tight and cried out, but you were barely given the space to breathe before he was fucking you hard– hips bucking rough and deep and so fucking good that you were left screaming and gasping helplessly at the sheets. 

Sebastian pinned you to the bed and pounded into you, his own moans dripping loud from his lips as his hands grasped at the sweaty, flushed skin of your waist, pulling you close while he filled you over and over and drank in your noisy pleas for more until your back was arching clear off the bed and your thighs were shaking. You were barely holding on, your climax from earlier roaring back to life in your gut and rendering your tongue a lead weight in your mouth.

Forming words was damn near impossible, but you still managed to babble out, “Like that, Sebastian, fuck, just like that– I’m close– please, I’m–”

He obliged you instantly, keeping up his pace while he brought his hand between your legs to thumb over your bundle of nerves, his hips angling upwards with every deep, precise plunge. Taking his bottom lip between his teeth, you watched through your slitted eyes as he bent forward to press a chaste kiss to your parted lips, swallowing your breathy whines with a satisfied expression playing over his face. “Come on, darling. Let’s hear how you sound falling apart on my cock, yeah?” 

As if you even needed the encouragement. 

Every muscle in your body tensed as a wave of unparalleled ecstasy crashed over you, and your hands flew to Sebastian’s shoulders to absentmindedly attempt to grasp at something to ground yourself. His movements didn’t stop as you writhed beneath him– milking every possible noise out of you with unconcealed fervor– and it was only when you sagged into the sheets twitching and whimpering that Sebastian let your legs drop to the sides so he could wrap his arms around you to give you the last of his deep, quick thrusts before he was coming too, your name tumbling over his lips as he fell alongside you. 

“Fuck,” Sebastian murmured directly beside your ear, still draped in a boneless heap on top of you as you trembled against him. One of your hands slid up to bury your fingers in his tangled curls, and you mumbled something unintelligibly into the crook of his neck. He pulled back slightly to hear you better, “What?” 

Your eyes were still glazed over as you came down from your post-coital high, “Are the Archives chock-full of sex books or something?” 

Sebastian smirked tiredly at you, pulling out gently before collapsing beside you with his arms still wrapped securely around your waist. “One or two. Why?” 

You stared up at the ceiling in a daze and shook your head softly to yourself, “Because you’re a little too good at that. It’s kind of scary.”

“Good scary or bad scary?” 

“Good scary,” you clarified, turning over so you could face the brunet and smile softly at him. The way his entire face lit up at the sight of you would live on in your mind for years to come, you were sure, so you wistfully said, “We should do this again sometime.” 

Sebastian paused, leaving you worried for a short second until he wriggled in a way that let him press his hard cock against your stomach, and he closed the distance between the two of you to give you a chaste kiss on your nose before grinning mischievously. “Like right now?” 

You raised your eyebrows in silent surprise before laughing playfully, rolling over onto him before taking his face in your hands to kiss him deeply. It was a sweet moment– tender, affectionate, and heartwarming. It only ceased when you let go of his cheeks to move down his larger body, already itching to put your hands to better use. 

The only thing that stopped Sebastian from staying holed up within the warm, comfortable confines of your bedroom with you forever was the imminent arrival of Monday, but Saturday and Sunday were days well spent. You were rather disappointed when your time together came to an end– enough so that you actually pouted when Sebastian had slid out from beneath the covers to get ready for work. Thankfully though, the Archivist was as unwilling as you were to call it quits after everything, and following a heated, lengthy kiss, he promised to come back as soon as he was able. 

It only took him eight hours to find himself back in your bed, but you knew then that it would be impossible to stay away from him for very long from here on out. 

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Playing for Keeps | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Chapter 4

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Words: ~4,300

Tags: Modern AU, Reader Insert, Seventh Year, Female MC, No Y/N, Slytherin MC, Enemies to Lovers, Trope-y, Slow Burn, Angst, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Romance, Coming of Age, Body Image, High School Drama, Beater Sebastian, Seeker MC

The Quidditch pitch buzzed with energy as shouts and laughter carried on the crisp autumn breeze. The smell of damp grass mingled with the scent of wood and broom polish while from the broomsticks, and Sebastian hovered near the sidelines. Arms crossed, he watched the chaos unfold, his sharp eyes tracking players as they took their turns on the field.

He’d seen plenty of tryouts over the years, but this one was proving to be more captivating than most. And the reason for that was you.

He’d seen plenty of tryouts over the years, but this one was proving to be more captivating than most. And the reason for that was you.

Sebastian wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he’d doubted you when you showed up to Slytherin tryouts. Given your build—curvy, with a frame that didn’t scream “athlete”—he’d figured Quidditch might not be your strong suit. After all, he’d seen enough Chasers over the years to know that most of them were lean, long-limbed types who seemed to glide effortlessly on their brooms. He couldn’t help but assume that you'd struggle with the agility and precision that the game required, and that the sheer physicality of it might overwhelm you. He even imagined he'd be watching you fumble at the tryouts, a little out of your depth.

But Sebastian had been wrong. So, so wrong.

From the moment the whistle blew, you owned the pitch. You were fast—shockingly fast. The quaffle seemed to become an extension of your arm, your movements so fluid and precise they left even Imelda pausing mid-sentence to take notice.

Sebastian caught himself staring. More than once. And unfortunately, his distraction came with consequences.

“Bludger, Sallow!” Imelda’s voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and irritated.

He snapped his head around just in time to see the ball hurtling toward him. He swung his bat on instinct, the impact jarring his arm as he sent the bludger flying back toward the opposite end of the pitch.

“Pay attention!” Imelda called, glaring at him as she sped past. “Tryouts, not nap time!”

He muttered a curse under his breath, gripping the bat tighter as his gaze snapped back to you. You were a blur of motion now, weaving through the air with startling ease, two players on your heels trying—and failing—to stop you.

Sebastian’s grip on the bat tightened further as he watched you dive to intercept a Quaffle mid-pass. You pulled up at the last second, executing a sharp twist that sent your opponents veering off course, scrambling to regain their balance. It wasn’t just impressive—it was damn near professional.

Sebastian tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as an idea began to take form. Every turn you made, every dive, was executed with almost surgical precision. You had an uncanny ability to read the pitch, anticipating not just your opponents’ moves but also where the quaffle—or even a bludger—might be at any given moment. Watching you, it wasn’t hard to imagine you chasing something even smaller... a golden snitch, perhaps.

Sebastian swung his bat lazily as he considered the idea, sending a bludger back toward the keeper’s end of the pitch without much thought. A seeker needed more than speed—they needed sharp reflexes, a strong sense of the field, and an almost obsessive ability to tune out the chaos around them. You had all of that in spades.

He leaned forward on his broom, letting the thought settle before glancing toward Imelda, who hovered near the goalposts, blowing her whistle and shouting orders like a miniature dictator. With a subtle shift, he steered toward her.

“Imelda!” he called, catching her attention as he approached.

“What now?” she snapped, her tone sharp but not entirely unfriendly. “Need me to remind you how to hit a Bludger?”

“Funny,” he shot back, rolling his eyes. “No, it’s about her.” He nodded toward you, who had just executed another clean pass before banking into a tight turn.

Imelda followed his gaze, her eyebrows lifting slightly. “What about her? She’s killing it out there.”

“I don’t think Chaser’s her best position.”

Imelda’s head whipped toward him, her eyes narrowing as she flew closer. “Since when do you care about her? You two barely tolerate each other.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “I’m not saying we’re best mates, Reyes. I’m trying to say she’s better suited for seeker.”

Imelda’s eyebrows shot up, and she crossed her arms, looking skeptical. “Seeker? Parson’s been gunning for that spot for months. He’s fast, experienced—”

“And sloppy,” Sebastian cut in, his tone firm. “You saw him last term. Missed the snitch twice in the same game last term because he couldn’t track the other seeker. Chouette's got better reflexes, better field awareness, and a sharper eye.”

Imelda hesitated, her eyes flicking back to you as you intercepted a pass midair, pulling up with a precision turn that left your opponent flailing. “You’re serious about this?” she asked, glancing at Sebastian. “You, of all people, think she should be seeker?”

Sebastian shrugged, though his tone was resolute. “Look, you know I wouldn’t suggest it if I wasn’t sure. I’ve been watching—she’s got the instincts. Parson doesn’t stand a chance.”

Imelda stared at him for a long moment, clearly torn between amusement and suspicion. Then, with a resigned sigh, she blew her whistle, signaling the current round to end. "Let's see if you're right."

Players began flying toward them, some looking winded, others energized. Sebastian adjusted his grip on his broom, his gaze trailing you as you approached. He hated how easy it was to pick you out of the crowd—how your movements were so fluid, so precise, that they naturally drew his eye. He shook the thought off, focusing instead on the task at hand.

As the players gathered, Imelda crossed her arms, her sharp gaze scanning the group. “Alright, listen up!” she barked, her voice carrying across the pitch. “You’re going to split off for drills. Laps around the pitch for half of you, passing drills for the rest. Move it!”

The crowd began to scatter, but Imelda raised a hand, pointing toward you and another player—a wiry sixth year with an angular face and a confident smirk. “Not you two. Chouette, Parson, stay put.”

You exchanged a puzzled glance with Parson, then looked back at Imelda. “What’s going on?”

Imelda tilted her head toward Sebastian, her expression smug. “Sallow here doesn't think you're cut out to be a chaser."

Your brows shot up, surprise flickering across your face before it was replaced with something sharper—defensiveness. “Does he now?” you asked, your voice edged with irritation.

Sebastian opened his mouth to respond, but Imelda cut him off, her grin widening. “Before you hex him, let me finish. He thinks you’re better suited for seeker.”

Parson stiffened beside you, his smirk twisting into something sour. “Excuse me?”

Imelda ignored him, gesturing to Sebastian. “Apparently, our resident expert here has been paying close attention and thinks Chouette's a better option for the position.”

Your gaze snapped to Sebastian, eyes narrowing. “And you decided this… when, exactly?”

Sebastian shrugged, his expression cool, though his knuckles tightened slightly on his broom handle. “After watching you dominate the pitch for the past hour."

Parson scoffed, stepping forward with his arms crossed. “She’s not a seeker. I’ve been training for this position for months. I know how to play it.”

“She’s faster,” Sebastian said simply, his tone cool but confident. “Better reflexes, sharper instincts. But if you're as good as you say, you’ll have no problem showing us I’m wrong.”

Imelda smirked. “There you have it, then. A little friendly competition. I’ll release the snitch. First to catch it wins. Easy enough, yeah?”

Parson huffed, gripping his broom tighter. “Fine.”

You, on the other hand, hesitated, your brows knitting together. “But I've never trained for seeker. What if I don’t want to?”

“Then Parson gets the spot uncontested,” Imelda said with a shrug. “Your call, Chouette.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened as he watched you deliberate. The irritation in your expression was clear, but so was the determination beginning to creep into your eyes.

Finally, you sighed. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

Imelda smirked, clearly enjoying the tension. She held up the practice Snitch, its wings buzzing faintly as it struggled against her grip. “Alright, no fouls, no excuses. Clear?”

Parson nodded curtly, gripping his broom with white-knuckled intensity. You simply gave a short nod, your jaw set.

Imelda grinned. “Good. Ready? Go!” She released the Snitch with a flick of her wrist, and it darted into the air, vanishing in a blur of gold.

Parson shot off immediately, his movements sharp and deliberate, scanning the field with practiced efficiency. His strategy was obvious—stay in constant motion, cover as much ground as possible, and rely on his training to keep him one step ahead.

And as Sebastian’s gaze shifted to you, he felt a flicker of doubt creep into his chest. You hovered in place, your grip on the broom tight, your eyes darting uncertainly across the pitch. The hesitation was unlike the player he’d been watching all afternoon, and for a second, Sebastian wondered if he’d misjudged everything. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe—

Then he saw it. The shift.

Your expression melted into focus, your gaze sharpening as you watched Parson’s erratic movements. It wasn’t just determination in your eyes—it was calculation. You were studying him. Observing. And then, instead of mimicking Parson’s dynamic, sweeping movements, you veered upward, climbing higher and higher until you were well above his chaos below.

“Interesting,” Imelda murmured beside him, tilting her head as she watched you.

While Parson darted frantically from one end of the pitch to the other, staying in constant motion, you hung in the air like a bird of prey circling above its hunting ground. And Parson, oblivious to your strategy, kept up his frantic pace.

He was fast, no question—but for him, this was a game of endurance, while for you, it was a game of strategy. And the moment the snitch came into view again, a golden blur darting near the far goalposts, you moved.

With a sharp twist, you angled your broom downward, launching into a vertical dive so fast and precise Sebastian’s breath caught in his throat.

“Bloody hell,” Imelda whispered, her eyes widening.

Parson noticed the snitch too, but for all his experience, he didn’t stand a chance. You were already locked in, your path direct and unwavering. Every second that passed made it clearer: you were in complete control.

And then, in one fluid motion, your hand shot out, fingers closing around the Snitch with a decisive snap. You hovered midair for a moment, catching your breath, the faintest flicker of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Sebastian smirked, though his chest still felt tight, his heart pounding from more than just excitement. “Told you,” he said, nudging Imelda with his elbow.

Parson hovered near you, his face a storm of frustration and disbelief. He fixed you with a glare, muttering something under his breath before turning his broom sharply and flying off in a huff. Whatever he said wasn’t loud enough for anyone else to hear, but Sebastian saw it—the flicker in your expression.

It was quick, almost imperceptible, but it caught Sebastian off guard. A tightness in your jaw, a flash of something that could’ve been irritation or frustration, maybe even anger. Something that wasn’t your usual calm, collected self.

You always brushed off Sebastian's insults, cut him down with words sharper than any hex, always unfazed, always composed. So, to see you react at all, to see that brief tension in your body, made him pause. What the hell had Parson said to rattle you like that?

Imelda, oblivious, called after Parson with her usual flair. “Don’t feel bad! There’s always next year!”

You flew closer to them, your usual confidence seemingly intact, but your shoulders were set just a fraction too stiffly, tension radiating from them in a way that wasn’t like you.

Sebastian’s jaw tightened as he considered saying something, but Imelda spoke first. “Not bad, Chouette,” she said with her usual smug grin. “Not bad at all.”

You raised an eyebrow, a faint, almost disbelieving smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "So that’s it? I’m in?”

“Do you want me to make you duel someone for it too?” Imelda quipped, clearly enjoying herself.

Your gaze flicked briefly to Sebastian then, and you smirked, something wry and familiar. "No point," you said dryly, arching an eyebrow. "Sebastian’s the best you’ve got, and we both know I’d wipe the floor with him.”

The corner of Sebastian’s mouth twitched, amusement and something else warring within him while Imelda snorted, spinning the snitch in her hand.

“True enough,” she agreed. “Alright, well, you’re officially our new seeker. Welcome to the team! Don’t screw it up.”

You arched an eyebrow, your expression wry as you gently punched her in the shoulder. “What a heartfelt welcome.”

Imelda laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “That’s as sentimental as I get and you know it. Now, go shower.”

With a quick nod and a playful salute, you descended to the grass, disappearing into the dressing rooms as the drills carried on without you.

By the time tryouts wrapped up, the sun was sinking low in the sky, casting golden light and long shadows across the pitch. The shouts and laughter that had once filled the air had faded into silence, leaving Sebastian alone. Assigned to cleanup duty—lucky him—he moved methodically, collecting pylons, pinnies, and quaffles that had been left haphazardly around the field.

He leaned down to scoop up a stray quaffle, spinning it absently in his hands before tossing it into the equipment chest with a hollow thud. His thoughts, as they had been all afternoon, drifted back to you. You’d exceeded every expectation he hadn’t even realized he’d set. Watching you take control of the pitch, dominate Parson, and catch the snitch with such precision had been… well, frustratingly impressive.

But what really nagged at him was Parson.

Whatever he had muttered to you before flying off had clearly struck a nerve. Sebastian had seen it, even if you’d tried to hide it, and it left a sour taste in his mouth.

The sound of a door creaking open snapped him from his thoughts. He straightened, frowning slightly as he turned toward the source. From the direction of the dressing rooms, you emerged. Your hair was still slightly damp from the shower, strands curling against your neck, and your Quidditch robes were gone, replaced with a loose hoodie and leggings that clung to your hips and ass in a way that was… distracting.

Sebastian blinked. “Didn’t Imelda send you home an hour ago?”

You startled at his voice, clutching your broom tightly as your head whipped around to find him. “Putain,” you muttered, your voice breathless. “Do you always sneak up on people like that?”

He chuckled, leaning casually against the goal post. “Sneaking implies intent. You’re the one who decided to skulk around after hours.”

You glanced away, fiddling with the strap of your bag. “I wasn’t skulking,” you muttered, your voice quieter than he’d anticipated. “Just… taking my time.”

Sebastian’s brow furrowed slightly. “Taking your time doing what?”

You shifted your weight, your grip on the bag tightening. “If you must know, I don’t like changing in front of other people, alright?” The words came out quickly, almost as though you were rushing to get them over with. You didn’t look at him as you spoke, your gaze fixed firmly on the grass at your feet.

Sebastian blinked, trying to reconcile the fierce, sharp-tongued girl he knew with the one standing before him now. You’d always seemed so confident, so sure of yourself, yet now, you seemed… vulnerable.

“Oh,” he said, the usual smugness in his voice replaced with something softer, more uncertain. “Right. Uh... Fair enough.”

Before he could think of anything else to say, you cleared your throat, straightening your posture and brushing the moment aside as if it had never happened. “Anyway,” you said briskly, “do you want any help with this?” You gestured to the scattered gear around him, clearly eager to change the subject.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “You want to help me?"

You rolled your eyes, gesturing to the mess of equipment scattering the field. "You look like you could use it, but if you'd rather do it alone, be my guest."

Sebastian’s lips quirked into a small, pleased smirk despite himself. “Well, since you’re so eager to pitch in, who am I to say no?”

You shook your head with a soft huff, stepping closer to grab a few stray pinnies from the ground. “Let’s not get carried away, I wouldn't call it 'eager'."

Sebastian bent down to pick up a stray pylon, tossing it into the equipment chest as he glanced sideways at you. You were folding shirts with methodical precision, your face neutral, but the tightness in your posture hadn’t gone unnoticed. He decided to test the waters with small talk, hoping to ease the tension.

“Classes going alright?” he asked, his tone light, casual.

You shrugged, barely looking up. “You’re in them all with me, surely you already know.”

Not exactly a riveting response, but Sebastian pressed on. “Ominis mentioned you paired up with Weasley for the Potions project. Reckon that’ll be explosive in more ways than one.”

A faint twitch of your lips. Progress.

He leaned against the chest, smirking. “You know, you really did well today,” he added. “Even Imelda was impressed, and as I’m sure you know, she doesn’t normally hand out compliments unless there’s a bribe involved.”

You glanced at him then, an eyebrow raised. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to thank you for the seeker position?”

Sebastian straightened, trying to play it cool. “Not at all,” he said, brushing an imaginary speck of dirt off his sleeve. “But I wouldn’t object if you wanted to acknowledge my brilliant instincts.”

“Right. Of course.”

The conversation stalled for a beat and Sebastian cleared his throat, shifting gears. “You seem awfully skeptical. What, you think I’m not capable of being nice?”

You tilted your head, giving him a pointed look. “I mean, this is a bit out of character for you, isn’t it? You’ve spent the past two weeks antagonizing me at every turn. Critiquing my spellwork in Defense, mocking my wand movements in Charms, knocking over my cauldron in Potions—”

“That was an accident,” he interjected weakly.

“—and redirecting a Venomous Tentacula toward me in Herbology,” you finished, glaring at him. “Accident too?”

Sebastian winced, rubbing the back of his neck. Of course he knew he was a pain in the ass toward you—he’d done it on purpose. It was easier to push you away than deal with what he really felt. Easier to act like you didn’t matter, even though you did. But hearing you lay it all out like this, the reality of just how far he’d gone to push you away, twisted something in his chest.

“I’m not that bad,” he tried, but even he didn’t sound convinced.

You snorted in response and he found himself fidgeting with a quaffle, spinning it idly in his hands. “Look,” he said, his voice softer, “I wasn’t trying to make your life miserable or anything.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you muttered.

The silence that settled this time was final, heavy, and uncomfortable. The only sounds came from the faint rustle of fabric and the dull thud of Sebastian tossing stray quaffles into the chest. He didn’t press further, at least not immediately, though his gaze kept flickering toward you.

He wasn’t used to feeling guilty, and yet, there it was, sitting heavily in his chest. He wanted to say more, to explain why he'd been such a prick in a way that didn’t make him sound like an idiot, but the reality was he was an idiot.

So instead, he focused on the task at hand, letting the quiet stretch between you. Minutes passed before his curiosity finally got the better of him.

“What did Parson say to you?” he asked suddenly, his voice carefully neutral as he glanced up from the chest.

You froze for half a second, barely perceptible, before resuming your task. “Why do you care?”

Sebastian leaned his weight against the chest, crossing his arms. “I saw the way it got to you.”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, your tone clipped. Too quickly.

“Doesn’t sound like it,” he pressed, watching you carefully now.

You sighed, dropping the pile of pinnies onto the bench beside you before finally meeting his gaze. “It’s not worth repeating.”

“If it bothered you,” he said, “then it is.”

You hesitated, chewing the inside of your cheek before finally letting out a dry, humorless laugh. “You know,” you said, your voice sharp, “maybe you and Parson would get along. Seems like you both have something against people like me.”

Sebastian blinked, confusion flickering across his face. “What are you talking about, 'people like you'?”

You raised an eyebrow, your gaze like a dagger as it landed on him. “Moderation,” you said flatly, the word dripping with disdain. “Remember saying that in the Great Hall? Not even five minutes after we met? You know, when you critiqued everything from my accent to my education?”

His stomach twisted uncomfortably, guilt clawing its way up his chest. Of course, he remembered. How could he forget? He’d been so taken aback the first time he saw you in the Great Hall that his first instinct had been to say something deflective, something to put distance between you.

He’d gotten shit for his thoughtless comment immediately, from Nerida, Grace, Imelda, and Ominis, but it was your fiery, pointed retort that had really silenced him. He’d told himself the guilt he’d felt in that moment was enough of a punishment, that it was over and done with.

But it clearly wasn’t.

His careless remark had lingered, stuck with you. And now, he was realizing that Parson had taken that same knife and twisted it further.

You continued on, your voice quieter but no less biting. “If you really need to know, Parson said I’m too fat to play seeker. That I’d embarrass myself if I tried.”

The words hit Sebastian like a bludger to the chest. The anger was immediate—Parson had no bloody right to say something like that, to try and tear you down when you’d more than proven you belonged on that pitch. You had the skills, the drive, the resilience.

But then the guilt hit—because Sebastian had made the same assumptions. He’d looked at you, at your build, at your size, and figured Quidditch might not be your strong suit. He had doubted you. And sure, he hadn’t said it to your face, but his internalized judgment had been there, just below the surface.

The hypocrisy stung.

“He seriously said that?” he asked softly, his usual confidence stripped away. The biting wit, the smug demeanor—gone.

You snorted, shaking your head as you grabbed the last pile of folded pinnies and tossed them into the chest with more force than necessary. “Why would I make that up?” you muttered.

Sebastian’s jaw tightened as his mind raced, a chaotic mix of anger, guilt, and something uncomfortably close to shame. “Parson’s an idiot,” he said finally, his voice low but steady. “He’s a bitter, insecure prick who couldn’t catch the snitch if it landed in his lap.”

You didn’t look at him, your focus still on the chest in front of you. "How rich, coming from you."

Sebastian flinched as if you’d slapped him. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure of how to respond. Because you weren’t wrong. How rich, indeed.

“Look,” he started, his voice low, almost pleading. “What Parson said… it’s bullshit. You’re one of the strongest players I’ve seen, regardless of... of your size.”

You froze, your hands still resting on the chest. Slowly, you turned to face him, your expression unreadable but your eyes blazing. “What are you doing? Trying to play the hero now?”

“No,” Sebastian said quickly, shaking his head. “I’m not trying to—just—damn it, would you listen for a second?” He raked a hand through his hair, his frustration mounting—not at you, but at himself. “I’m saying Parson’s wrong. And I was wrong, too."

Your eyes narrowed, the distrust clear on your face. “What are you talking about?”

“I shouldn’t have said what I did in the Great Hall,” Sebastian admitted, the words tumbling out of him in a rush. “About… about you eating in moderation. It was a stupid, thoughtless thing to say, and I didn’t mean it. I'm sorry I said it."

You stared at him for a long moment, your gaze flicking across his face as though searching for something—what, Sebastian wasn’t sure. Sincerity, maybe. Or the punchline to some cruel joke.

Finally straightening to your full height, you slung your bag over your shoulder, your expression still unreadable but your eyes colder than he was used to.

“Well,” you said dryly, the word cutting through the quiet like a blade. “Thanks for the… chat.”

Sebastian opened his mouth to respond, but you didn’t give him the chance. Without waiting for an answer, you turned on your heel and began walking across the field, your stride purposeful.

And then you were gone, disappearing into the twilight as you made your way back toward the castle.

Sebastian stood there for a long moment, the empty pitch stretching out around him. He’d meant what he said. Every word of it. But it didn’t matter if you didn’t believe him. If you didn’t trust him. If he’d burned the bridge between you before it had even been built.

And he had no one to blame but himself.

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[thatboisus]

girlhood is staying up late to read the top posts in an x reader tag

[actually-mentally-ill]

me after saying i’d get tasks done but i’ve just been reading fanfiction for the past 3 hours:

[queenandherimagination]

IM EXPANDING ITS BEEN MONTHS SorrRY...

Also fuck the Sallow Gaunt thing I've changed it, the two kings take the MC's last name because they don't want reminders of their past family shit....

So the whole convo goes down with Dumbledore, MC is pissed and goes to find Snape (I am playing with cannon like Play Dough here me out), Snape isn't related BUT because mc was so involved in the potters lives she knew of snape and his affiliation with Harry's mom. This led to a sort of mentorship between Snape and MC.

Snape takes the MCs arm and they head down to the DADA classroom, stopping at the stairway where they first met sebastian there's a whole flashback to the first meeting moment before they do crimes in the library.

They continue walking to the classroom MC asking Snape how he's been and whether or not the rumor of him slipping into Voldemorts circle is true. Yapping continues still they go their separate ways when they reach the classroom.

-----------------

With a knock MC pushes open the classroom doors and steps inside the sunlit room. She glances around the room, noting nothing but slight changes to the decor since she was last here. Other then a few students at the back, none have notice her arrival. Currently Moody is aggressively scribbling at the chalk board in front of him about what appears to be animagus transformation counters.

The whispering from the students in the back draws Moodys attention and he turns around sharply, dentition on his tongue, but all words escape him when his eyes land on the singular figure in the back.

Mc clears her throat and steps forward and bit, making her presence known causing some of the more knowledgeable students gasp.

"Hello Moody," She says, giving a small wave at her old friend.

Hes quiet and she duly notes the way his fake eye seems to frantically be darting around as if looking for something.

"Well I be, if it isn't Misses [MC last name] her self," he gives what appears to be a nervous chuckle and wobbles down off the platform and over to her. They clasps arms in a handshake, both grips are firmcand through their touch the MCs magic flares slightly at the unfamiliar presences she finds. "How's the two back home?"

"Doing fine? Sebastian just got back from a job over in America so we've been spending time together as much as we can," her voice is light, not giving away the knowledge she had just gained, "Enough about me I am here on important business."

Their hands fall away and she glances around the classroom, "I need to speak to a Harry Potter."

A couple of coughs and murmurs go around before Hermione pushes a brown headed teen out of his seat. He stumbles and glares at her before standing straight and looking at the strange woman.

"T-that would be me." He fidgets a bit, her eyes setting off a weird feeling of someone peering into his soul.

"Bless me, my boy you look just like your father. And your eyes are-" She starts speaking but Harry cuts her off.

"Like my mother's, I get that a lot." He scratches at his neck.

"I'm sure you do, but any way come take my arm my boy, wr have much to discuss," she shakes her head and steps forward offering her hand to him. A bracelet with constellations jingles on her wrist a soft smile graces her lips as Harry takes an uncertain step forward and take her hand gently.

As soon as the touch happens they both apparate, leaving behind nothing but the faint smell of the Ladys perfume.

Moody grumbles and takes out his flask quickly gulping down the concoction inside. He then hobbles back to the front to continue the lesson.

------------

Hermione ends up like asking who tf MC is and Moody gives this whole story of how she is the last holder of an ancient magic lost to time, how she helped defeat grindelwald back with Dumbldore and his associates, how she defeated big bad goblins an then nearly killed voldemort and made him go on the run.

He says thag she's so powerful along side her immortal husband's that she makes Dumbledore and Voldemort look like children playing with sticks.

Hermione asked how she became immortal and Moody exasperated says that she had made an unbreakable vow but because her magic is so unknown and wild it changed the vow between the three and rendered them immortal stopping their age at 35 AND apparently binding their souls together...

Okay that's it for now LOL I had time to brain storm in my notebook so I quickly yeeted this into existence. I may do like a thingy about how the vow went down when the mood strikes 🙃

So I've had this idea cooking it's been like baking so long I needed to get it a new blog where ima probably yeet all my crazy ideas and introduce my friends too.

So it goes like this, after all the events of Hogwarts Legacy the trio of Slytherins(yes I made my MC a slytherin) made a unbreakable vow which made them all immortal(not unkillable ALSO I MAKE CANNON MY BITCH I DO NOT CARE IF THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR THAT SPELL) now nothing is now of the descendents of Sebastian Sallow so what if down theline the MC and Sebastian had kids and down the line Harry Potter became the very last of said line. Yes she's still married to Ominis but ominis made the decision to never have kids to continue his family name, they had discussed it was his choice as a sort of fuck you to his parents an such.

And what if the MC never knew of what had happend to Harry pretty much kept out of the loop by Albus for fear of them messing up Dumbldore plans of getting rid of voldemort once an for all(look we all know Dumbldore is not the hero here okay?)

What iff around when the tri-wizard tournament was happening MC found out, found out that one of her last remaining of her magical bloodline is alive still and currently UNDERAGED AND ENTERED INTO ONE OF THE MOST DANGEROUS TOURNAMENTS OF THE WIZARDING WORLD(which I am saything that this MC definiatly a while back competed in this BUT OF AGE MIND YOU)

sO i picture MC showing up to Dumbledore's office pissed of wth her equally as pissed off husbands behind her. Her magic aura rolling off her in waves as she aims her wand diretly att he headmasters throat.

"You told me he was dead Albus."

"YOu had no need to-"

"DO NOT TELL ME what I had need to know or not to know! He is my great great grandson! He deserves to be with his family! DEserves to know of the power he may verey weild! Deserves to be shown the love he very much so deserves!"

She's pissed at this point, Ominis in all his ability to keep thngs civil stepped forward and lowered her arm holding the wand.

"Love, let him speak."

ANd then dumbledore proceeds to tell of why he did it blah blah

THEN THE MC GETS TO MEET HARRY

Que harry being so confused but so happy cause nwo he has more family that isn't on the run(poor padfoot) who he can now ask for advice because he finds himself actually more powerful then his peers and it scares him

QUE ALL THE FUN FAMILY SHIT Running rampit in my head

Does this make sense? SOrry if this doesn't make sense i needed to get it outta my head before I vibrate into the void

[lovesicklovermia]

normalise making a list of character x readers u like to read so you can spin a wheel every night before bed to decide ur bedtime story xx

[moonpascaltoo]

sebastian sallow

MASTERLIST • HOGWARTS LEGACY • 11/22/24

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs

𑣲 never forget I @zevrra

where sebastian is actually worried about MC and regrets casting crucio on them

𑣲 caught in the rain I @/zevrra

you and sebastian seek shelter inside an abandoned home where every feeling is laid to bare.

𑣲 truth or dare I @ppomumgranatum

Truths emerged and friendships were tested as you found yourself confronting two years' worth of suppressed feelings towards Sebastian. Drunk.

𑣲 the dance of love’s sweet potion I @/ppomumgranatum

When a potion meant to repel backfired, it became a mishap that turned your world upside down.

𑣲 marry me I @theealbatross

The 3 times Sebastian thought about marrying you and the 1 time he asked.

𑣲 fight the alchemy I @/theealbatross

Garreth asks why Sebastian isn’t dating you. Sebastian spirals.

𑣲 i love you, it’s ruining my life I @/theealbatross

Sebastian has the worst insomnia known to man and you are not dating him.

𑣲 never not been mine I @/theealbatross

Everyone wonders if you and Sebastian are together. Sebastian wonders when will everyone mind their own business.

𑣲 fever (what a lovely way to burn) I @shadowtriovibes

"since you saved Sebastian from Azkaban, he has met you in the common room every morning and you have gone to breakfast together. One morning he isn't there so you go to his room looking for him to find him in bed, poorly.”

𑣲 request I @/shadowtriovibes

Eric Northcott is relentlessly pursuing you, so Sebastian offers to act as your heroic boyfriend to get him off your back

𑣲 break a sweat part 2 part 3 part 4 I @/shadowtriovibes

sebastian makes the house quidditch team after training all summer. before his first match, you let him talk you into a bet over its outcome that will in all likelihood ruin your friendship. (merlin, you sure hope it does.)

𑣲 mind if i move in closer? I @/shadowtriovibes

𑣲 it’s a sign of the times part 2 I @/shadowtriovibes

Rivals-to-lovers Sebastian and MC use a Time-Turner to travel to the future with Ominis in search for a cure for Anne. Instead they find a girl who's the spitting image of MC trying to sneak into the Restricted Section in the 1910s, only she has freckles like Sebastian

𑣲 fissured composure I @anto-pops

After watching you hold your own against a handsy classmate, Sebastian is feeling particularly needy and steals you away to the Undercroft to show you just how worked up your right hook got him.

𑣲 possessive touch I @/anto-pops

Sebastian has never been the sharing sort. He was happy to loan people notes or quills, maybe even the occasional book from the Restricted Section. But not you. Never you.

𑣲 sudsy confessions I @/anto-pops

Sebastian confessing his long-harbored love for you while you’re naked in a bathtub.

𑣲 request I @/anto-pops

𑣲 unspoken attraction I @arthenaa

The girls and you have a talk on who they'll date amongst the students in Hogwarts. No one mentions Sebastian despite being deemed the most handsome in your year. You wonder why?

𑣲 jealously, jealousy I @awkwardauthorwrites

𑣲 i think he knows I @/awkwardauthorwrites

Sebastian helps Y/N with an interesting request

𑣲 violets and verbena I @/awkwardauthorwrites

Two years have passed since the events in Hogwarts Legacy, in which Y/N has drifted away from Sebastian. What happens when she has to spend some time in the hospital wing and he comes to visit?

𑣲 in the middle part 2 I @/awkwardauthorwrites

After a few months of knowing the reader the boys suddenly realise one day they are falling in love with the reader and start to become a bit bitter towards each other and very jealous if another guy gives her attention.

𑣲 wildest dreams part 2 part 3 I @/awkwardauthorwrites

Ten years have passed since the events of Hogwarts Legacy and Y/N is invited back as part of a reunion to celebrate.

𑣲 diesel is desire I @wttcsms

sebastian sallow is a good friend. so good, in fact, that when you find yourself under the ungodly influence of a lust potion, he's willing to help give you some relief.

𑣲 trust fall I @fairytalesandlegacies

Sebastian Sallow teaches you how to fight against the Imperius Curse late one night, and in the process, some long-kept secrets are revealed.

𑣲 i need you I @ravenelyx

Sebastian has different ways of dealing with being hurt. One of them is burying his face in your chest while you cuddle him

𑣲 who do you smell? I @roarieluz

Sebastian Sallow has had a crush on Y/N for a while now, this isn't news to him but when a strong batch of amortentia is made for potions class it is hard to keep his mind clear of anything that isn't about you and what he wants to do to you.

𑣲 the night shift part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 I @writing-intheundercroft

You're the lead healer in the St. Mungo's intensive care unit, and a painfully familiar face ends up in your ward.

𑣲 a long time coming I @undergaunts

aka three times Sebastian is a flirt, one time he gets called out on it, and one time he finally does something about it.

𑣲 pining in potions class I @festivalsofmargot

Sebastian Sallow is forming a huge crush on you, and it’s hitting him all at once in a very annoying way. Something as simple as not being partnered with you in potions class eats away at him.

𑣲 pretty thoughts part 2 I @/festivalsofmargot

Sebastian is down bad for you, my dear reader. But a lot of overthinking on your part makes you blind to it. So, his only option is to keep chasing after you.

𑣲 a worrisome box of chocolates I @matchavellichor

𑣲 you look better in green part 2 I @fierymiasma

In which Sebastian sees the new transfer student wearing someone else’s scarf and proceeds to absolutely lose it.

𑣲 snow, scarves, and schemes I @spaceyaceface

Y/N is sick of Leander Prewett trying to court her. Luckily, she has a best friend named Sebastian Sallow who would love to help put an end to it. They devise a plan to pretend to court up until the Yule Ball. Should be simple, right? If only. 

𑣲 the one who stayed I @talesofesther

For a moment, Sebastian thought he lost you, and now the guilt for what happened is eating away at him.

𑣲 the winner takes all I @justauthoring

in which, leander prewett is a prick and sebastian shows him not mess with his girl.

𑣲 bludgered I @slytherizz

Sebastian never really knew what his friend saw in Isaac Cooper but he never questioned it - he made his friend happy. That is until a Quidditch match goes quickly awry and he realises his feelings for her may go far deeper than simple friendship.

𑣲 between the two of you I @cuffmeinblack

Rewriting of the events of the Shadow of the Study/Discovery quests.

𑣲 i crumble completely (when you cry) I @atlabeth

there's only one way to get into salazar slytherin's scriptorium.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Sebastian: I hear you like bad boys.

MC: Yeah, I suppose so.

Sebastian: (to Ominis) Tell her.

Ominis: He's literally the worst.

[theealbatross]

ominis: put a finger down if you were nice to a girl to use them for your own gain then played yourself, caught feelings, and is now horrendously obsessed with them that you got sick because they chose Amit Thakkar for one charms project

sebastian, on his last finger: i don't like this game

[radical-ghostface]

HOGWARTS LEGACY

TWT PORN LINKS

~~ TW: This contains real pornography. These links will take you to real videos posted by real people. My intention is never to make anyone uncomfortable so if this is something you are not comfortable with I urge you to please click away. ~~

Lazy morning sex with Seb

Seb fingering you in the RoR

Overstimming with Omi

Helping Seb celebrate after winning a quidditch match

Messy tit jobs with Garreth in prof Sharp's classroom

Facesitting with Omi

Alone time with Omi in the Undercroft

Teasing Garreth

Seb fucking you after a stressful day of classes

Make up sex with Seb

Garreth likes it when you take control

Seb can't keep his hands off you after seeing you in his sweater

Ominis knows how to use his hands

Garreth loves how you taste

Merciless Seb

Ruining sub Garreths orgasam

Making out with Omi in his dorm

[anomalyaly]

right where you left me

Summary: You died. Sebastian secretly had a portrait of you commissioned.

I profusely apologize for the pain.

Inspired by @sychenb for the prompt idea. Also crediting @sloanesallow for her headcanon about Sebastian keeping track of numbers.

(also sort of inspired by Unus Annus - iykyk - and Taylor Swift, if you couldn't guess by the title)

Tags: Angst, F!Reader POV (you), unreliable narrator, vague ship (Sebastian x reader/Ominis x reader), Sebastian was in love with you but never confessed, death, grief, ambiguous ending, overall the sads in general, I cried while writing this

AO3/Wattpad

It had been 279 days since you died.

At least, that’s what Sebastian tells you — your portrait, anyway. It was all that was left of you after the devastating battle you had fought and never walked away from. You hadn’t even known he’d had a portrait of you commissioned when you were alive until you woke up, your body cold, your face illuminated by the flickering candles of the Undercroft.

He comes to visit you every day — some days, he simply sits in front of you, cross-legged and silent. You creep into the frame and study him, the shadows on his face, a haunted look in his eye — unfamiliar. You can only recall a bright, talkative, charming boy with whom you were once close. You didn’t recognize him the first time he visited you, yet his presence brings you comfort.

On other days, you see traces of the boy he was before. He bursts in through the gate talking nonstop about everyone who misses you, about something he saw that you would have liked or that reminded him of you. Sometimes, he even brings you gifts and places them in front of your frame so you can admire them when he’s away.

That’s where he keeps you — hidden behind a wooden crate in the Undercroft like a sacred shrine, untouched by anyone but him. He only speaks with you when he is alone.

Another boy comes in on occasion, and you only know because of the sound of his voice and the pulsing red light of his wand that you can see from behind the pile of crates. Ominis, you remember Sebastian telling you, another friend from when you were alive. Sometimes they argue, other times they refuse to acknowledge each other. But Sebastian always keeps you tucked away, his own personal secret.

“It’s almost Christmas,” he sighs as he plops down in front of you. “300 days since you…well, since— ”

He could never bring himself to finish that sentence, even after almost a year. You never finish it for him.

“Are you going back to Feldcroft?” you ask, though you already know the answer.

He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t leave you here alone. I couldn’t do that to you.”

You knew he probably hadn’t been back since that dreadful day. He had only spoken of it once to refresh your memory. He never brought it up again.

“Sebastian,” you say, and he perks up at the sound of his name leaving your painted lips, “how come you always hide me away when Ominis comes in? Doesn’t he want to talk to me, too?”

His eyes flash with something — anger, perhaps, it was hard to tell from your two-dimensional world — and he stands, approaching your portrait. “He wouldn’t understand.”

“I’m only a portrait,” you tease, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s not like you’ve been practicing necromancy.”

It wasn’t the right thing to say, but you don’t completely understand why. He turns away from you, fists clenched, shoulders tense and hunched over, before running his fingers through his hair and repeating himself more adamantly. “He wouldn’t understand.”

You remember him uttering a similar statement throughout your short life at Hogwarts — secrets that only the two of you shared, unbeknownst to Ominis until it was too late. “Surely he misses me, too— ”

“Did you love him?”

The question takes you by surprise, though you think it’s not the first time he’s asked it. “What?”

Sebastian whirls to face you, his gaze intense, demanding. “Did you love him? Or did you love me?”

Your portrait blinks, confused. Truthfully, you hadn’t been alive nearly long enough to confirm your feelings for either of them, but you knew that both boys had been important to you during your last few months of life. The portrait of you had only been a time capsule of your fifteen-year-old self — undecided and immature. You’re not even certain if the emotions you feel now are real or remnants of what you experienced when you were alive. “I…I cared deeply for both of you if that’s what you’re asking.”

Your answer nearly breaks him, as if he’s heard it a million times before. He tugs at his hair, the movement causing him to look frenzied and mad. “That’s not what I asked! Who did you — ”

“Sebastian?”

The voice of the intruder causes both of you to freeze. Sebastian pulls himself out from behind the crate and holds a finger to his lips before pushing it in front of you once more.

“Over here, Ominis.”

You hear footsteps and see the red glow of the other boy’s wand, then shuffling as Sebastian strategically places himself in front of the wooden box. The echoing footsteps grow closer, and you straighten at Ominis’s frantic tone as he speaks.

“Who were you talking to?” he asks. “I…I thought I heard…her.”

“No one else is here but me,” Sebastian says, guarded.

You can practically feel Ominis’s internal struggle to believe him. You decide that there have been enough secrets between the three of you — you’re not going to let it carry on post-mortem.

“Ominis? Is that you?” you call out. You hear Sebastian press his body against the crate in front of you. Ominis pushes past him, and they both tumble into it, knocking it over and exposing your portrait.

Chaos ensues at Ominis’s realization. The two boys are shouting at each other in front of you as you are helpless to stop them — Ominis, for having yet another secret kept from him, and Sebastian, for defending his reasonings. You aren’t sure if it’s because of jealousy, grief, or some combination of the two, but all you want is for the noise to stop.

You call out helplessly from your portrait, wishing you could step between them, just as you had done time and time again all those months ago. Before everything had gone so wrong.

Suddenly, hot, angry tears are pouring down both of their faces, and you are overcome with just how useless you are at this moment — a fragmented memory, trapped within the confines of your magical canvas. You want nothing more than to hug each of them, to let them feel your arms around them in comfort and take their pain away.

But you are gone.

The two boys now stand solemn and silent in front of you. Ominis takes a step closer, his wand hovering over your portrait before he runs his fingers along the gilded frame. “Is it…really you?”

“No.” You can hear the flatness in Sebastian’s voice, how tired and worn he truly is. He repeats exactly what you thought only moments before as if to confirm it. “She hardly remembers what happened, or even who we are. She’s just a fragment. A memory.”

You want to argue that it is you, but you know that he’s right. You barely remembered your living self until Sebastian explained everything to you on his daily visits. Whispers of your personality still shine through on occasion, but you are otherwise simply existing.

Ominis sighs, and you can hear the weight behind it, as if he had been holding his breath and finally allowed himself to release it. He traces his fingers along the divots of the frame once more, and you try to will yourself to feel it.

The two boys exchange an unspoken conversation that thickens the tension in the air. They seem to come to an agreement, and you let out a small breath — if you can call it that — of relief when they sit down in front of you and appear to bask in your presence. You stay quiet and allow them this moment — it’s the only thing you can do.

The days that follow are the same. No longer is Sebastian coming in alone for covert meetings with your portrait. Now, you see both Sebastian and Ominis at the same time every single day, a religious appointment that they’ve set aside just for you. They take turns talking to you, even if they can only manage a few words, and you learn to appreciate their company, knowing that you were loved by both of them in life.

Just like old times, Sebastian says, and the three of you laugh.

Christmas approaches quickly, or that’s what they say when they come to visit a short while later. They bring your favorite things from when you were alive — chocolate frogs, flowers, even books, which Sebastian reads to you — and they tell you stories about you and the kind of person they knew you to be. You wonder if it’s true, or if they have created an idealistic image of you since you are no longer there with them. Not really.

Kind, they say that you were, thoughtful, loving, self-sacrificial, and maybe a bit idealistic. You were friends with both of them, after all, the mischievous pair that they were, before everything was taken away from them, before life was unfair. They try to smile for you and remind you that Christmas at the castle is a time for celebration, but you can tell that it’s a weak facade.

You smile back at them anyway.

The anniversary of your death approaches. Neither of them can bring themselves to say anything, aside from a few words to honor you. So the three of you sit in tearful silence, admiring the flowers that they decorated your portrait with. You think you can almost smell the sweet aroma of the bouquets.

Something changes in the air — you can sense it — though you aren’t sure what. You notice it when their visits become shorter, with fewer stories to tell, and fewer presents left in front of your frame. Sebastian and Ominis start showing up at separate times, stopping in for a brief hello before leaving with an excuse. You start to wonder what they are doing when they are gone, but you are unable to leave your frame — only one portrait of you was ever commissioned.

Soon, they start missing days, returning at a later time with profuse apologies about how life was busy, but they still miss you. Difficult classes, detention, studying for NEWTs, and preparing for a career — all of these seem to take precedence over you. But they still manage to make time in all of the hectic day-to-day activities, and you look forward to the days when they do come.

You wake up one morning and realize you are in a different location — Feldcroft, most likely, though you hadn’t seen it since that fateful day. Sebastian hangs your frame up on the wall, promising that he and Ominis will come to visit you more often now that they have graduated.

They don’t.

The length of time in between seeing them grows longer, you’re certain of it. Each time one of them arrives, they look a little bit different — sometimes they have longer hair, other times a bit of scruff around their chins, but they always come in looking more weathered than they had when you last saw them.

You realize that they are doing something that you will never again be able to join them in — growing older. You start to wonder about their lives outside of you, yet your painted mind cannot comprehend what an adult life looks like, forever frozen in your adolescent state. You find that you are unable to relate to any of their stories, and they seem to be holding back in what they choose to share.

I wish you were still here, they always say before they go, and you start to wonder if they mean it.

At long last, the visits from your once two closest friends become scarce, and you aren’t certain how much time has passed since someone last spoke to you. The bright flowers that once decorated your golden frame wither and die, and the little gifts they used to leave stay untouched and unopened. The tiny cottage in Feldcroft becomes a sepulcher of your essence — a permanent reminder that you are no longer among the living.

You can’t help but wonder if it was something you did, if their reasons for not returning were your fault. You can feel the stories that they used to tell you fading away, unable to retain the memories in your current form.

You decide that it’s time to rest.

In the quiet house, just south of Hogwarts, your portrait closes its eyes. You do not wake again.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Playing for Keeps | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Chapter 3

 ← Previous Chapter Next Chapter →

Words: ~4,600

Tags: Modern AU, Reader Insert, Seventh Year, Female MC, No Y/N, Slytherin MC, Enemies to Lovers, Trope-y, Slow Burn, Humor, Angst, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Romance, Coming of Age, Body Image, High School Drama

The dim light of the Undercroft flickered against the cracked stone walls, the faint hum of bass vibrating in Sebastian’s earbuds. He lounged in his usual spot in the corner, legs stretched out, his wand twirling lazily in his hand. His phone sat face down next to him, mercifully silent. One of the things he loved most about the Undercroft was the lack of reception. No texts, no calls—just uninterrupted solitude.

Well, almost quiet.

A flick of his wand sent another crate hurtling into the far wall, shattering into a satisfying spray of splinters. The rhythmic destruction synced perfectly with the music pounding in his ears. It should’ve been enough to drown out his thoughts, but it wasn’t working.

Instead, his mind kept drifting back to you.

The duel on Monday had been humiliating. He could still hear the collective intake of breath from the crowd when his wand shot from his hand, spinning uselessly though the air and into your outstretched palm. Your expression had been cool, composed—barely a flicker of triumph as you delivered the finishing blow. The fact that you hadn’t gloated afterward made it worse somehow. It wasn’t the sting of defeat that lingered—it was the way you’d stared him down, steady and unapologetic, like beating him had been nothing more than a formality.

He’d been stewing about for days, but the duel wasn’t the only thing that had gotten under his skin.

All damn week you'd been sparring with him—not physically, though he half-wished you had been, just so he’d have an excuse to throw hexes at the smug look on your stupid pretty face. No, it had been verbal sparring, your sharp wit matching his with unnerving precision.

Tuesday, in Potions, he’d made some quip about "ridiculous Beauxbatons standards" when you corrected his stirring technique. Without missing a beat, you’d shot back with a cutting remark about Hogwarts’ apparent leniency in admitting mediocre students.

Wednesday, in Charms, he’d tried needling you again, deliberately taking the spot next to you during a group exercise. His comments had been just loud enough for you to hear, pointed barbs about your "sloppy wandwork". You’d turned to him, your wand poised mid-spell and said, “Coming from the boy whose technique has all the grace of a troll with a toothache? That’s rich.”

And then there was yesterday. Defense Against the Dark Arts. You walked into class wearing that perfectly polished uniform of yours, your crisp white shirt tucked just so, and your tie knotted with what looked like effortless precision. And when Sebastian had muttered something under his breath about Beauxbatons students being “all style and no substance,” you immediately shot back with “Better to have style than to make mediocrity my trademark.” The corner of your mouth had twitched upward, barely perceptible, but it was enough to set his teeth on edge.

And Merlin help him, the attention you were getting from other guys wasn’t helping. He’d watched Everett Clopton linger a little too long at your table in the library on Wednesday, leaning over your shoulder to point at something in your notes. And then there was Arthur Plummly, with his dopey grin and penchant for rambling, who had somehow managed to get you to laugh—really laugh—at one of his terrible jokes in the Great Hall on Thursday.

But the worst of them, by far, was Leander, who had a knack for showing up just when Sebastian didn’t want him to. Like this morning in the courtyard, when Leander had sidled up to you with his usual infuriating confidence, leaning just a little too close as he spoke. Sebastian hadn’t caught the conversation, but he’d seen the faint smile on your lips, the slight tilt of your head as you listened. And when Leander had reached out, brushing a stray thread from your shoulder, Sebastian’s jaw had clenched so tightly he thought his teeth might crack.

A fresh wave of irritation surged through him at the memory, and he flicked his wrist again, sending a stack of books tumbling off the table with a dull thud.

The sound of footsteps approaching cut through the music in his ears, faint but unmistakable against the stone floor. Sebastian sighed, tugging out one of his earbuds. Only one person walked like that, with those annoyingly measured, deliberate steps.

“Not now, Ominis," Sebastian muttered.

“I wasn’t aware I needed an appointment,” Ominis said dryly, his voice cutting through the music. He stopped a few feet away, leaning against the wall as he tilted his head toward Sebastian. “Though judging by the state of this place, I’d say you need more than just an appointment. You need an intervention.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, slumping further into his chair. “What do you want?”

“To talk about your behavior,” Ominis snapped, his pale eyes narrowing. “Specifically, toward her.”

Sebastian tensed but kept his expression neutral. “I’ve been fine.”

Ominis let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Fine? Really? Do we need to go over all the shit you pulled this week or can we stop pretending you’ve been fine?”

Sebastian exhaled sharply, his fingers drumming against his thigh. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Not that bad?” Ominis snapped. “The only time you’ve been remotely civil was when you invited her to Crossed Wands, and since she hasn’t shown up, you’ve been absolutely unbearable.”

“It's not like she’s completely innocent,” Sebastian said defensively. "She gives as good as she gets."

Ominis tilted his head, his pale eyes narrowing in a way that made Sebastian shift uncomfortably in his seat. “She’s only defending herself because you’re going out of your way to provoke her. And everyone’s noticed.”

Sebastian’s scowl deepened. “Everyone?”

“Don't play dumb,” Ominis said coldly. “The entire castle is whispering about how the 'great Sebastian Sallow' can’t seem to keep her name out of his mouth. People are starting to think all your jabs and sneers are just your way of hiding the fact that you fancy her."

Sebastian’s head snapped up. “Fancy her?” He let out a sharp laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous? Why?” Ominis pressed, leaning forward slightly. "Because she’s not one of those vapid cheerleaders you usually chase after?”

Sebastian’s grip on his wand tightened, his knuckles white. “Don’t be thick, Ominis,” he snapped, his voice sharper than he intended. “I’m not into… bigger girls.”

The moment the words left his mouth, he wanted to take them back. They tasted bitter, like bile rising in his throat, and they felt wrong—so wrong. But it was out there now, hanging in the air between them, and he couldn’t unsay it.

But Ominis didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. He simply tilted his head, his expression carefully neutral in a way that made Sebastian’s skin crawl. “Liar,” Ominis said softly.

Sebastian bristled, his jaw tightening as he stared down at the floor in front of him. “I’m not lying,” he shot back, though the words came out hollow and weak.

Ominis snorted, the sound filled with disbelief. “You are. And for what? Because you’re embarrassed?

Sebastian flinched, his jaw clenching as Ominis’s words struck a nerve. “Drop it, Ominis,” he muttered, his voice low and warning.

Ominis raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable but clearly unimpressed. “You've been staring at her all week. Don't think I haven't noticed.”

Sebastian scoffed, leaning back in his chair as though he could physically distance himself from the conversation. “I wasn’t staring.”

Ominis’s lips twitched into the faintest semblance of a smirk. “You were.”

Sebastian ran a hand through his hair, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “Even if I was staring, which I’m not, it doesn’t mean anything. She’s infuriating and entirely too full of herself, and she’s just… she’s annoying.”

Ominis tilted his head slightly, his pale eyes narrowing with an almost predatory sharpness, as though he was dissecting every syllable. “You mean she’s strong, talented, and doesn’t put up with your nonsense? Yes, I can see how that would bother you.”

Sebastian shot him a withering look. “Don’t twist my words.”

“I don’t need to twist them,” Ominis replied smoothly. “You’re doing a fine job of tying yourself into knots all on your own.”

Sebastian exhaled sharply, pushing himself up from his chair in one fluid motion. He began pacing the length of the Undercroft, his wand twirling absently between his fingers. “She doesn’t act like anyone else here. She doesn’t belong.”

“Doesn’t act like anyone else?” Ominis repeated, arching an eyebrow. "Ahhh. I understand now."

Sebastian froze mid-step, turning to glare at him. “Understand what?”

Ominis’s smirk was faint but unmistakable. “Why she’s gotten so deeply under your skin.”

Sebastian scoffed, his frustration bubbling over. “That’s not what I said.”

“No, but it’s what you meant,” Ominis said, his tone maddeningly calm. “You can’t stand that she’s not fawning over you, not bending to your charm or playing your games—it bothers you.”

Sebastian groaned, raking both hands through his hair as he resumed pacing. “That’s not it. She’s just... She’s so bloody arrogant! Every time she opens her mouth, it’s like she’s trying to one-up me.” He stopped pacing, gripping his wand so tightly his knuckles turned white. “And what does it matter if I looked at her once or twice? She was probably doing something stupid.”

Ominis folded his arms across his chest as though settling in for a particularly amusing show. “Once or twice? Please, Sebastian. You’ve been watching her like a hawk. It’s a wonder you don’t walk into walls.”

Sebastian’s cheeks flushed, a rare heat rising to the surface that he couldn’t quite suppress. “I have not—”

“You have,” Ominis interrupted, his tone clipped but unrelentingly calm. “And you act like a complete idiot every time she’s around. It doesn’t take a genius to see what’s happening."

Sebastian hated this. Hated how easily Ominis could dismantle him with a few well-placed words. Hated how his friend’s sharp intuition made him feel exposed, vulnerable in a way he didn’t know how to handle. But most of all, he hated how much truth there was in what Ominis was saying.

“Are you done psychoanalyzing me?” Sebastian snapped, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ominis chuckled softly, his head tilting. “Not quite. I find this whole thing fascinating. In all the years I’ve known you, I can’t recall a single time a girl’s managed to live rent-free in your head like this.”

“She’s not living rent-free in my head,” Sebastian shot back, his voice a little too loud to be convincing.

Ominis straightened slightly, his expression shifting from teasing to mock-serious. “What happened to all that practiced charm, Sebastian? The smooth lines, the effortless charisma? It's like you’ve reverted to the emotional maturity of a thirteen-year-old. Being mean to the girl you like? Really? How utterly... unevolved.”

“For fuck's sake, Ominis, I don’t like her,” Sebastian ground out, his voice tight.

Ominis arched an eyebrow. “You’re right. You don’t like her—you’re obsessed with her.”

Sebastian froze, his jaw tightening as he tried to come up with a retort. But nothing came.

Ominis chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Well, as entertaining as this little therapy session has been, I didn’t come down here just to help you sort out your love life.”

Sebastian shot him a glare, his expression hardening. “Good, because I don’t need your help.”

“Clearly,” Ominis replied dryly, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “But no, I’m here because the rest of us are heading to The Three Broomsticks for dinner. I came to collect you.”

Sebastian paused mid-step, his brow furrowing as he mulled over the invitation. His first instinct was to refuse—he wasn’t exactly in the mood to deal with Imelda’s endless teasing or Garreth’s over-the-top antics. But something stopped him, a faint flicker of curiosity gnawing at the back of his mind.

“Is… she going?” he asked, his voice almost hesitant.

Ominis’s smirk deepened, and though his pale eyes couldn’t see the way Sebastian stiffened, his tone was sharp with amusement. “Chouette? Yes, of course she’s coming. Imelda invited her, naturally.”

Sebastian groaned internally, running a hand through his hair as he weighed his options. It wasn’t as if he could avoid you forever. Still, the thought of sitting across from you, your sharp tongue ready to cut him down if he stepped out of line, made him hesitate.

“Well?” Ominis prompted, tilting his head. “Are you coming, or should I tell them you’re busy sulking?”

Sebastian scowled. “I’m not sulking.”

“Of course not,” Ominis said, his smirk widening. “You’re just… reflecting.”

With a long, reluctant sigh, Sebastian flicked his wand toward the scattered debris in the room, muttering a spell to tidy up the splinters and books he’d strewn about. “Fine,” he said, his tone sharp. “But if you so much as breathe a word about this conversation to anyone, I’ll hex you into oblivion.”

Ominis held up his hands in mock surrender, his expression impossibly smug. “Not a problem. Now come on."

Sebastian followed Ominis out of the Undercroft. The conversation they’d just had lingered like an annoying itch in the back of Sebastian’s mind, but he pushed it aside, focusing instead on the growing din of chatter and footsteps as students made their way out of the castle toward Hogsmeade.

Ominis walked ahead with his usual effortless grace, his posture straight and composed. Sebastian’s gaze drifted to his friend’s outfit, a navy button-down tucked neatly into dark slacks. There was always an effortless elegance to Ominis—an innate sense of poise and precision that Sebastian had long since given up trying to emulate.

He frowned, glancing down at his own attire—grey sweatpants that were just a bit too loose around the waist, paired with a faded Joy Division T-shirt. His sneakers, scuffed from countless treks across the grounds, completed the look—or rather, the lack of one.

He grimaced.

“Something wrong?” Ominis asked, his voice light with amusement.

Sebastian straightened, forcing an air of nonchalance. “No,” he said flatly. "Just wondering why you’re trying to make the rest of us look bad.”

Ominis turned his head slightly, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “It’s called making an effort, Sebastian. You might want to try it sometime.”

Sebastian grunted in response, shoving his hands into his pockets as they descended the steps leading to the main entrance. A few groups of students passed by, their laughter filling the air. His mind wandered back to you, as it frustratingly had a habit of doing lately. He remembered your sharp eyes flicking over his Smiths tee that first night, your smirk as cutting as your remark about him trying to look “deep and brooding.” He was sure you'd have another comment lined up when you saw him this time.

Soon enough, the Three Broomsticks loomed ahead, its windows glowing invitingly. The muffled sounds of lively conversation spilled out each time the door opened, and Sebastian could already make out Imelda’s laugh among the crowd.

Ominis slowed his pace, turning his head slightly toward Sebastian. “Try not to make a scene,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You’ve already given everyone enough to talk about this week.”

Sebastian bristled but nodded, biting back a sarcastic comment.

As they stepped inside, the familiar scent of butterbeer and roasted food filled the air. Sebastian’s gaze swept the room, quickly landing on the group’s usual corner table. Imelda, Garreth, and the others were already there, and—

You.

You were leaning forward on your elbows, laughing softly with Garreth, your voice cutting through the warm hum of the pub. Gone was the Beauxbatons poise he was used to seeing—your usual immaculate look now replaced by something entirely different.

You were wearing an oversized band tee—The Cure, he realized with a jolt—and black jeans that hugged your figure in all the right ways, making it impossible for him to look away, even though he damn well tried. Scuffed sneakers tapped in time with the music that thumped through the pub.

And then you pushed up the sleeves of your shirt, casually exposing the tattoos inked along your forearms. Sharp, intricate lines traced the length of your skin, telling stories he couldn’t quite piece together but wanted to know. The sight sent a jolt through him, his stomach flipping in a way he didn’t want to examine too closely. Of course. Of course, you’d have tattoos. Of course, your style would mirror his own, as if you’d stepped straight out of a reflection of everything he liked.

“You’re blocking the doorway," Ominis’s voice broke through his thoughts, dry and pointed.

Sebastian blinked, realizing he’d stopped dead just inside the entrance. He cleared his throat and stepped aside, running a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to compose himself.

“You're acting like she's sprouted a second head,” Ominis chuckled as they made their way toward the table.

Sebastian shot him a glare but didn’t respond.

As they neared the group, Imelda glanced up first, her grin wicked. “Well, look who decided to show up. What took you so long, Sallow? Still licking your wounds from that duel on Monday?”

“Good to see you too, Reyes,” Sebastian quipped, finding a place at the far end of the table—conveniently as far away from you as possible. He busied himself by grabbing a menu, using it as a shield to block out the sight of you.

“Hello, Sallow,” came a voice from across the table. Sebastian glanced around the menu to find Leander smirking at him, pint of beer already in hand. “Fancy a drink?”

The tension was immediately palpable, a charged undercurrent that neither bothered to mask.

Their rivalry wasn’t new.

Sebastian and Leander were opposites in style but equals in presence, two sides of the same coin. Fire and Ice. Sebastian, Slytherin's star Quidditch Beater and school dueling champion, with his rumpled style and sharp edges. Leander, polished and preppy, the Summoner’s Court star, always impeccably dressed and composed. And to each other's chagrin, both knew how to charm their way into hearts and, more often, beds. It was an unspoken game between them, a constant measuring of egos and victories.

Sebastian hesitated for a moment before nodding, dropping the menu and leaning over as Leander slid an extra pint his way. “Why not?” he muttered, taking the glass and letting the cold condensation cool his fingers.

Leander took a swig of his beer, his smirk widening as he leaned in conspiratorially. “So,” he started, his tone already suggesting trouble. “What’s the deal with you two?”

Sebastian tensed, immediately knowing who Leander was referring to but feigning ignorance. “Who?”

Leander gestured subtly with his head toward your end of the table, where you were chatting with Garreth and Imelda, your laughter carrying lightly over the ambient noise of the pub. “Chouette.”

“There’s no deal,” Sebastian replied flatly, taking a sip from his pint. “Why?”

Leander raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "You’ve been staring at her all week like she’s a bomb you’re trying to defuse.”

Sebastian’s grip on his glass tightened slightly, but he forced a casual smirk. “You’re imagining things.”

“Right,” Leander drawled, dragging out the word. “Well, if there’s nothing going on, I might just try my luck.”

Sebastian’s jaw twitched and Leander’s grin turned sly, his pint dangling lazily from his fingertips. “Doesn’t seem like your usual type, anyway, does she? You’ve always gone for the willowy ones.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “But Merlin’s beard, Sallow. That figure? The tattoos? The piercings? Sexy as hell.” He tilted his head, the grin widening. “And sharp as a whip, too. She doesn’t take your shit for a second, does she?”

Sebastian’s grip on his drink tightened, his knuckles whitening slightly. He took a deliberately long sip, the bitterness of the beer doing little to mask the irritation curling in his chest.

Leander seemed to pick up on the subtle shift in Sebastian’s demeanor and leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “Tell you what,” he said, his grin turning sharper. “How about a little wager? Fifty Galleons. First one to bed her wins. No harm done—it’s her choice anyway, isn’t it?”

Sebastian stiffened, though he shouldn’t have been surprised by Leander’s proposition—after all, their reputations certainly didn’t put them far above such things.

But even for Sebastian, there were lines he didn't cross. And something about the way Leander framed it—reducing you to nothing more than a prize to be won—felt wrong. Low. But that sting of pride, that unwelcome prick to his ego at the thought of letting Leander bloody Prewett swoop in unchallenged, was hard to ignore. So instead of declining, he leaned back, smirking faintly, falling back into the role everyone expected him to play.

“Fifty Galleons, huh?” he said, his tone light, almost amused. “You’re on.”

Leander grinned, thrusting out a hand. “Shake on it?”

Sebastian hesitated for half a heartbeat before extending his own hand, gripping Leander’s firmly. “Deal.”

The shake lasted only a moment, but as Sebastian pulled back, a flicker of regret twisted in his chest. If you ever found out about this, you’d probably hex them both where they stood.

But his pride wouldn’t let him back down. And besides, it wasn’t like anything would come of it. Right?

Sebastian barely had a moment to process the knot of unease in his chest before Imelda’s voice rang out, sharp and teasing.

“Oi, Sallow,” Imelda called from down the table, her tone carrying that trademark teasing lilt. “Let me guess—another edgy thrift store find?”

Sebastian blinked, momentarily thrown off. He glanced at her, then followed her gaze to his shirt, the faded logo emblazoned across the chest. His smirk flickered back into place. “Jealous, Reyes?”

Imelda rolled her eyes, turning toward you. “Chouette, what do you think? Does our dear Sebastian look like he’s auditioning for a muggle garage band, or is this more ‘serious artist’ territory?”

All eyes turned to you, and for a fleeting moment, Sebastian braced himself. You could easily take Imelda’s bait, throw a scathing remark his way, and earn another round of laughter at his expense. But instead, your expression softened slightly, and you gave a casual shrug.

“I mean,” you said with a casual shrug, gesturing to your own outfit, “we’re basically wearing the same thing, aren’t we? Not like I’ve got room to judge.”

The group stilled briefly, the surprise palpable. Even Sebastian blinked, caught completely off guard by your measured response.

You continued, your tone edged with self-awareness. “I shouldn’t have sunk to his level with those comments I made before—that was petty. It’s not like I’m the authority what people can or can’t wear… even if my read on Sebastian’s absolutely dazzling personality was spot on.”

The table erupted in laughter and Sebastian’s lips twitched, caught between a scowl and a reluctant smile. You hadn’t gone for the easy dig, but you’d still managed to keep your edge intact. It was infuriating. And impressive. Like you’d gotten the better of him again without even trying.

Garreth leaned forward, gesturing toward Sebastian with his pint. “In his defense,” he said, “he does actually listen to the bands on his shirts. Big muggle music fan. It’s honestly kind of annoying—he zones out completely with his earbuds in and taps his quill like mad when we’re trying to study in the library.”

The group chuckled, and Sebastian smirked, clearly unbothered. He raised his pint in a toast to Garreth. “Always nice to have a character witness, Weasley.”

You tilted your head slightly, your eyes sharpening with curiosity as you turned toward Sebastian. “What’s your favorite song right now?”

He blinked, the earnest question catching him off guard. He set his pint down as he considered you for a moment. “Uh... maybe 505 by the Arctic Monkeys.”

Your eyebrows lifted, and then you let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “You’re like a 2014 Tumblr girl.”

Sebastian frowned, his confusion evident. “A what?”

Realizing your slip, you hesitated, your cheeks flushing slightly. “Never mind,” you said quickly, waving a hand as if to brush it off. “I grew up with a muggle mum, so I guess it’s… it’s one of those references that doesn’t really translate.”

Poppy perked up, leaning forward with interest. “What’s Tumblr?”

You sighed, clearly debating how much to explain. “It’s… kind of like a chaotic... online scrapbook,” you said, your tone sheepish. “Back in 2014, it was all about indie bands, angsty quotes, and aesthetics. The Arctic Monkeys were a big deal on there. So were flower crowns, oddly enough.”

Sebastian leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table, a smirk tugging at his lips. “So maybe my taste isn’t so questionable after all.”

Before you could answer, proprietress of the Three Broomsticks, Sirona Ryan, swept over to the table. "Evening, folks. Same as usual for most of you, or are we branching out tonight?"

The group quickly ordered, everyone going for their favorite pub classics from shepherd’s pie and beef stew to fish and chips. All the while, Sirona nodded along, her quill scratching against the notepad. Then her gaze shifted to you, her smile softening. “Ah. There's a face I haven't seen before. What can I get you?”

Sebastian glanced up at you instinctively, watching as you smiled politely at Sirona, your tone light. “Just a house salad, please."

A salad? While everyone else was diving headfirst into comfort food? Sebastian didn’t say anything, but the choice stuck with him, a faint itch at the back of his mind.

Garreth leaned across the table, his grin sharp. “Fancy a game of darts, Sallow? Or are you scared to lose?”

Sebastian smirked, grateful for the distraction. “To you? Not a chance.” He stood and followed Garreth to the dartboard, grabbing a set of darts as the rest of the group’s chatter faded into the background.

He lined up his first shot, locking onto the bullseye. Darts was his game—Garreth was usually no competition. Tonight should’ve been no different.

But as he drew back his arm, his eyes flicked to the table.

You were laughing at something Imelda said, your shoulders shaking, fingers tracing the rim of your glass. The warm light highlighted the numerous silver rings and studs lining your ears, the strands of hair framing your face. You looked... disarmingly perfect.

His rhythm faltered and the dart veered wide, hitting the board with a weak thunk far from its target.

Garreth burst into laughter, nearly doubling over. “Merlin’s beard! Did you forget how to aim?”

“Shut it, Weasley,” Sebastian muttered, grabbing another dart.

He refocused, narrowing his gaze on the bullseye. Focus. Just throw.

Then you stretched casually, arms over your head, the hem of your band tee lifting just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. His hand twitched, and the dart flew early, landing on the edge of the board.

Garreth howled, slapping the wall. “What is going on with you? Are you trying to throw the game?”

“I’m just warming up,” Sebastian snapped, his ears burning. He grabbed his final dart, determined to salvage what was left of his pride.

Garreth stepped back, smirking. “Sure, mate.”

Sebastian lined up, blocking out the noise. Just throw the damn dart. But as he prepared to release, you glanced his way, your curious expression sending his nerves spiraling.

The dart hit the board—barely—scoring a handful of points.

Garreth clapped him on the back, grinning. “Losing your edge, Sallow.”

Sebastian leaned against the wall, arms crossed, scowling. “Just finish your turn.”

Garreth, unbothered, hit near-perfect throws, finishing with a triumphant smirk. “Better luck next time, mate.”

Sebastian waved him off, muttering about distractions, but the truth gnawed at him. It wasn’t Garreth, the noise, or even the game.

It was you.

 ← Previous Chapter Next Chapter →

[deadghosy]

How my favorite Slytherin boys react to you passing out.

Warning: Hogwarts legacy to Harry Potter

Ft. Sebastian Sallow, Ominis Gaunt, Tom Riddle, Mattheo Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire.

Sebastian Sallow

“I think I’m gonna pass out.”

“Please don— BLIMEY!”

Immediately catches you a little and takes you to the hospital wing. He’s definitely most worried about you since he was scared in the back of his mind that you might have been cursed like his twin sister during an adventure.

After he found out it was cause you hadn’t eaten, he’s shoving some honeyduke sweets down your throat and meals. 3 meals per day is what he’s making sure you are eating before another adventure starts.

Ominis Gaunt

You haven’t slept much, all these adventures sure were wreaking your body. You came in the common room to rest on the couch. Not noticing that a certain gaunt had sense you, you passed out before getting to the damned couch.

He sensed you passed out and he started to feel scared. He was put away his wand and started to feel you on the floor. And when he finally got the touch of your arm, he gripped it and pulled you towards him. Setting your head in his lap as he was praying to anything, anyone for you to wake up.

So when you woke up he felt relieved but asked you to go see the nurses when you felt like you could walk.

After finding out you haven’t been getting sleep from the trials and adventures you have been going through with Sebastian.

He gave the poor sallow boy an earful of a scolding.

Mattheo Riddle

You passed out due to overheating yourself. You were studying day and night. Of course your beloved riddle was concern, so he comes into your room. When you seen him and tried to stand up, that’s when you fell like an animated cartoon.

Mattheo thought you tripped on yourself, but when you didn’t move he got worried and checked you out.

As he felt your head was burning, he unbutton your shirt and ran to the bathroom to get a cold towel. Putting it in your forehead, he waited.

Waking up to see mattheo was sure a shocker since you would’ve thought he might’ve took you to the hospital wing.

Theodore Nott

He caught you when he noticed you had gotten “dizzy” is what you said in the morning.

He knew something was off when you kept looking spaced out. So when he caught your body that was going to hit the floor, he took you to the medic wing and let the head nurse treat you.

He visits often, telling you about the classes and slight drama. And after you still recover and leave the wing, he’s treating you like you will break.

And now you got a overprotective Theodore on your side

Lorenzo Berkshire

Panic mode actived

Poor baby let out a scream which alerted a professor over and took you to the medic wing

He was anxious waiting for news on when you can be release and how the blazes did to pass out.

You passed out because you forgot to ate for the 2nd time. Prepare for this Slytherin boy to put a lot of food on your plate for weeks.

[thatboisus]

yall ever read a fanfic so majestic it completely altered your entire life

[tsuvvy]

You sighed when you were pulled back into the bed by the arms around your torso.

"C/n," You whined, "I need to get up!" You tried to pry their arms around your waist off, but it wasn't any use.

"No!" They whined back, burying their face into the crook of your neck. "It's so early.. You can stay a few more minutes, they won't care."

"I guarantee you they will," you told them, "I've been late because of you enough!"

They didn't respond. You would guess they've already fallen back asleep if it wasn't for their arms tightening around you.

"Sorry, love, but you're not going anywhere." They told you, giving the base of your neck where it connected to your shoulder a kiss.

You sighed in annoyance, "Sometimes you annoy me so much that I want to start planning our wedding, just so I can very publicly divorce you."

You felt their amused smile against your neck. You couldn't help but smile, too. You knew you had to get up, or else you'd be late for the fourth time this week. But in all honesty.. You didn't want to leave their warm embrace, just like they didn't want you to leave it either.

Oikawa Tōru, Yū Nishinoya, Leo Valdez, Percy Jackson, Connor Stoll, Sebastian Sallow, Gojo Satoru, Timothy Drake, Garfield Logan, Dick Grayson, Lloyd Garmadon, Cole, Kai and any of your faves 🫶

[whizzing-fizzbee]

This Is How It Starts

Sebastian Sallow x Reader (Female MC) (And some temporary Andrew Larson x Reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+, MDNI (shameless smut, profanity), all characters are 18+ Words: 10,402 Themes: friends to lovers, sexual tension, sexual frustration, shitty boyfriends

Summary: You're going absolutely, utterly mental. Your boyfriend, Andrew Larson, hasn't touched you in weeks and you're growing desperate. When he's unwilling to help relieve your sexual tension, your best friend, Sebastian Sallow, always has your back.

Notes: This one's mainly just some shameless smut. Characters are 18-year-old seventh years. Reader is female MC. Inspired by "Sex" by The 1975.

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

You blew a puff of air upward, hoping it would release the strand of hair that was currently plastered to your face. Sweat trickled from your hairline, over your temples and down your neck until it disappeared beneath your shirt collar.

It was abnormally hot outside, but there was no chance you were going to miss the quidditch final. It was Slytherin versus Gryffindor, a rivalry that promised a match for the ages – not to mention your very best friend was a Slytherin beater.

“Get him, Seb!” you screamed as your best friend whizzed overhead in pursuit of a bludger. Slytherin had a 40-point lead and the match was approaching its second hour of play. Gryffindor was holding its own, but its players were clearly growing weary against Slytherin’s physical and aggressive style of play. If the Slytherin seeker could just catch that damn snitch, the party could start.

Suddenly, the Slytherin seeker initiated a sharp nose dive and you screamed in encouragement. She hurtled toward the ground, two Gryffindors tailing close behind in an attempt to knock her off course. Their desperation was palpable and you feared they might knock her off her broom if she got too close to the snitch.

Sebastian was attempting to corral another bludger. You watched nervously as his eyes narrowed in concentration, his bat raised until he connected it with the bludger. It careened toward the Gryffindors, forcing them to abandon their path.

“Yes, go, go, go!” you screamed so loud, Ominis Gaunt had to cover his ears from his seat next to you. You had dragged the poor boy along to the match, despite his incessant reminders that he would be unable to see any of the action. But he was the other third of your trio and the undeniable glue that held you and Sebastian together, so you convinced him that Sebastian deserved both of your support that day.

“Go, Alice, go!” you screamed at the seeker, silently praying your housemate would come through for Slytherin. She inched closer and closer to the ground, her fist closing around the snitch with about five feet to spare.

The stadium erupted in a frenzy. You grabbed Ominis by the head, hugging him to your chest as you screamed and bounced in elation. He squawked in protest, but even he couldn’t conceal the smile that had formed across his lips.

The Slytherin team descended to the center of the quidditch pitch until they piled up in a massive group hug. You laughed as you spotted Sebastian at the bottom of the pile, his grin clear even from your seats high up in the stands.

Headmaster Black strode to the center of the pitch with Madam Kogawa carrying the quidditch cup close behind. Professor Sharp met them and motioned for the Slytherin team to gather around, where he presented them with the cup.

The Slytherins in the stands roared with applause and you whistled as loud as you could, drawing another annoyed glance from Ominis.

“Come on, let’s get down there!” you said, tugging on the sleeve of Ominis’ robe. 

“Yes, mother,” he sighed as he drew his wand, its red tip guiding him as you pulled him through the sea of students.

Once you reached the bottom of the staircase, your eyes scanned the grounds in search of Sebastian. Sad and angry Gryffindors shoved past you, coaxing a laugh from you as you continued toward the center of the pitch. Finally, you spotted Sebastian engaged in an animated chat with Imelda Reyes, who was smiling smugly while the rest of their team continued to celebrate with the cup hoisted into the air.

“Sebastian!” you screeched as you launched yourself toward the boy. You threw your arms around him and leapt, your legs wrapping around his torso as he stumbled backward to brace his balance. “You did it!” you practically screamed in his face. You hugged him tightly as more bodies clad in green flooded onto the pitch.

Sebastian offered you a goofy grin as he supported your weight, his arms squeezing you tightly so you wouldn’t slip.

“That boyfriend of yours is going to kill me,” he murmured in your ear. You drew backward slightly to give him a pointed look.

“You and I both know you’d demolish him in a duel,” you said. 

“Can’t argue with that,” Sebastian said with a shrug. He set you on your feet and draped an arm around your shoulder. “I’m going to get cleaned up and changed. See you at the after party?”

“I’ve got a bottle of firewhiskey with your name on it.”

You skipped off to find Ominis again, but were instead met by your boyfriend. He was leaning against the entrance archway of the pitch, his arms crossed as his stare followed you. You sighed to yourself and begrudgingly trudged toward him.

“Hey,” you said, your tone much more feeble compared to the shouting and squealing you’d done moments ago.

“Hey.” You could tell he was cross with you from the way his jaw clenched, though his eyes were calm and cool.

“Some match, huh?” you said cheerily, hoping you could bring his mood up rather than the opposite.

“Sure was.”

He was clearly in no mood to discuss quidditch, so you slipped your arm through his. “You okay?” you asked.

“I was until I saw you and Sallow.”

“Andrew,” you sighed, your shoulders slumping in frustration. “I’ve told you a million times, it’s not like that with Sebastian.”

“And I’ve told you a million times that I’m not comfortable with the way you two egg each other on,” Andrew replied hotly. “The way you two carry on is improper and it’s disrespectful to me. His reputation is going to ruin yours.”

Sebastian was a known flirt who had earned a reputation for his extracurricular activities with half of the girls who attended Hogwarts. He didn’t have girlfriends, though, and you secretly wondered if he’d ever settle down. As a result, your friendship with Sebastian had endured its fair share of rumors and speculation as people wondered if you’d ever venture past the threshold of platonic kindred spirits. 

“We’re just friends,” you tried, but Andrew glared to cut you off.

“Yes, I get it,” he snapped. “You, Sallow and Gaunt, Slytherin’s special little trio. But you’re my girlfriend.”

“You’re right,” you sighed, already tired of fighting. You didn’t want Andrew to feel slighted by you. If the tables were turned and some girl was climbing all over him, you knew you wouldn’t like it. 

But you and Andrew were vastly different. You were bolder, more outspoken and adventurous. Hell, you were the hero of Hogwarts two years ago when you saved the school from Ranrok. 

Andrew was more studious and reserved, a true Ravenclaw. Professors liked him, but for reasons that differed from the way they liked you. You were creative and savvy when it came to magic, whereas Andrew boasted the kind of intelligence that manifested in the form of logic and reason.

When you first started dating Andrew, Ominis and Sebastian laughed at you. They teased you like brothers, poking fun at your new boyfriend.

“Has he even been in a duel, ever?” Sebastian had chortled.

“And isn’t he friends with Puffskein Duncan?” Ominis added.

You chided them for their judgment and teasing, but Ominis, ever the prim and proper gentleman, later pulled you aside to tell you he was happy for you. He said Andrew was smart and would take good care of you, to which you snorted and reminded Ominis this was merely a teenage romance. You couldn’t see yourself invested in anything long-term with Andrew and were merely interested to see where your relationship would lead.

When you mentioned this to Sebastian in passing one morning as the two of you lounged in the Slytherin Common Room, he snickered.

“So Larson’s too dry to earn any consideration for a long-term commitment?” he mused.

"I've used Crucio on you before. Don't think I won't do it again," you warned.

"I'm just saying! Seems like he's a giant waste of time."

You huffed at him in annoyance. “While he and I likely won’t make it beyond Hogwarts, I’d appreciate it if you’d at least respect our relationship for its duration,” you scolded. 

“The only thing I respect about Larson is that he somehow managed to finesse the school’s most eligible bachelorette into dating him,” Sebastian quipped. You rolled your eyes and hit him with a sofa cushion. “But seriously, what do you see in him?”

“He’s… smart,” you replied, which merely provoked a menacing laugh from Sebastian.

“Smart,” he repeated blankly.

“And he’s creative,” you continued. “And handsome.”

“What exactly do the two of you even talk about?” Sebastian asked, leaning forward curiously. “I mean, you’re complete opposites. What do you have in common?”

He wasn’t wrong. Most students were quick to point out that you and Andrew were an unlikely pair when you began dating. But you were attracted to Andrew. He was tall and handsome with an assured smile and composure.

“Opposites attract,” you quipped. “Some balance is good every now and then.” You weren’t sure you actually believed that statement, but you were going to pretend for now.

That was six months ago and now, the inevitable end to your Hogwarts days was approaching. You and Andrew hadn’t discussed your future as a couple, but you weren’t in any rush to do so – especially since you hardly felt like a couple these days.

The upcoming N.E.W.T.s had taken priority for all seventh years. Even Sebastian had been spending an uncharacteristic amount of time studying in the Undercroft. The two of you both aspired to be curse breakers, but the most coveted positions – curse breaking for Gringotts – were limited to two.

You were a shoo-in for one of the spots, given your famed history and experience. All you needed to do was score high on your N.E.W.T.s, which you were confident you’d ace. Sebastian should have been a certain choice for Gringotts as well, but he couldn’t exactly reveal all of the research and hands-on experience he had gained while trying to reverse Anne’s curse during his fifth year without raising suspicion. 

“Are you coming to the Slytherin victory party?” you finally asked Andrew, hoping your innocent upward gaze would soften his mood.

Instead, he blinked at you. “I’m a Ravenclaw,” he deadpanned. 

The evening sky was growing darker, and you knew the celebration would be underway soon. The dinner hour in the Great Hall had nearly passed, but there would be a plethora of sweets and snacks to indulge in at the party. You were eager for an evening of frivolity with your friends, as you knew your time with them was limited.

“But you’re invited to the party if you’re with me,” you said hopefully. “You can come and stay just for a bit.”

“A Slytherin celebration has detention written all over it. I was hoping you’d join me on the Astronomy Tower instead.”

Normally, you’d die before missing a single second of a Slytherin party, especially one to celebrate a quidditch cup victory. But the party was sure to continue late into the night, meaning you’d likely have time to enjoy it later.

A trip to the Astronomy Tower was much more important now, not because you gave a flying fuck about stargazing, but because you could get laid.

It’d been weeks since Andrew had touched you, and you were becoming a restless, coiled, ticking time bomb. You were an 18-year-old with wants and needs, but your stupid boyfriend had been more concerned with his N.E.W.T.s than sex as of late.

The Astronomy Tower was a common spot for romantic rendezvous, particularly for students in separate houses. You and Andrew had frequented it much more at the start of your relationship until you introduced him to the privacy of the Room of Requirement, but some nostalgia for the sake of sex was too appealing to reject.

“That sounds nice,” you said carefully, your grip giving Andrew’s arm a gentle squeeze. “I’d love that.”

“Good,” Andrew said with a firm nod. “Shall we head there now?”

“Yes, please.” You allowed him to steer you from the quidditch stadium and back toward the castle. Clusters of students laughed and chattered around you, and you occasionally paused your route to the Astronomy Tower to discuss the events of the quidditch match with them.

As you stopped to say hello to Arthur Plummly, Andrew grunted in annoyance. He was clearly tired of waiting on you to finish socializing, so you merely waved to Arthur and continued to the Astronomy Wing. Perhaps Andrew was just as eager as you to relieve some year-end tension. The thought made heat rise through your body, flushing your cheeks.

The tower was quiet as most students were either celebrating Slytherin’s victory or licking their wounds in defeat. Once you reached the upper level and confirmed you and Andrew were alone, you grinned at him. You were already aching between your legs, desperate to be touched by someone other than yourself.

The air was much cooler at such a high point, the breeze drifting through the tower and its vacant telescopes. You shed your school robe and turned to Andrew to reach for his, gripping the front in earnest as you pulled him into a kiss. You kissed him hungrily as you stepped toward him, pressing your hips against his.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, craning his neck to break the kiss. You froze and rocked from your toes back down to your heels as you released his robes.

“What do you mean?” you asked stupidly. “I thought you wanted to-”

“No, not tonight, love.” His tone was gentle but you could see the irritation in his eyes. “I actually need to stargaze. I want to be sure I can identify Lyra in case it’s on the exam.”

You sucked on your top row of teeth to stop yourself from screaming in frustration.

“Can’t it wait, just a quick twenty minutes?” you asked.

“No, love. I’ve got to get this done.”

You knew there was no changing his mind, not that you wanted to at this point. The anticipation and desire you felt earlier had extinguished, now replaced by a sense of rejection.

“All right,” you sighed, stooping down to pick up your house robe. “I guess I’ll head to the party then. See you at breakfast?”

Andrew pressed a brief kiss to your cheek and smiled at you. “Goodnight, love.”

The trek down to the dungeons was cold and lonely. You weren’t used to rejection, but it had become a common occurrence from Andrew in recent weeks. It made you wonder if there was something wrong with you, that something had changed to make Andrew no longer lust after you. 

You hadn’t changed much physically since the start of your seventh year. If anything, certain physical attributes had improved, at least in your opinion – and the opinion of the Hogwarts male population. Your chest had filled out nicely and your curves were more evident now. If Andrew no longer found you attractive, it surely wasn’t your fault, right?

You didn’t have long to brood, though. As you neared the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room, you could feel the pulse of music vibrating through the stone walls. You smirked to yourself, ready to forget about your vapid excuse for a boyfriend for the evening.

“There you are!” Sebastian spotted you instantly as you entered the Common Room.

“There you are!” you laughed as you took in his appearance. His hair was more tousled than ever and he was holding a bottle of firewhiskey in each hand. 

“Where’ve you been?” he demanded as he ushered you further into the room. “Nevermind that. Let’s get you a drink. Who has the firewhiskey?” he called out.

“Sebastian,” you snorted. “You have it.”

“Oh. Right. Well let’s get you a glass then.”

One glass quickly turned into three, and you eventually lost count by the end of the night. Students from other houses came and went, and you enjoyed the presence of your friends and classmates.

Sebastian was the life of the party, per usual. He’d periodically disrupt the music and laughter to climb on top of a study table, his glass raised in a ridiculous toast.

“To Chinese chomping cabbages!” he declared during one toast.

“To Professor Ronen’s beard!” he said during another. Each toast was followed by a roar of agreement from the crowd, no matter how absurd, which Sebastian reveled in with glee.

You laughed through it all, especially when Ominis, who had been lurking in a corner of the Common Room as an innocent bystander, was pushed toward Imelda Reyes to dance. By their third dance, you could feel Sebastian looming behind you as he watched Ominis with delight. 

“Someone ought to rescue him,” he said in your ear. “It’s not going to be me, but someone should eventually.”

“I don’t know, he seems to be enjoying himself,” you mused. “I think I’ll take a night off from saving our poor friend from social expectations.”

Sebastian snickered and sauntered off. Your eyes followed him as he stumbled toward the stairs. You followed after him, your own inebriation stalling you as you steadied yourself.

“Sebastian!” you called after him. He spun to peer down at you as he reached the top of the steps. “Where are you going?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he called over his shoulder as he disappeared toward the dormitories. You scurried after him and watched as he slipped into his dorm room. 

“Bailing on the party?” you asked as you shoved your way through the door. You’d been in that dorm numerous times, so the sight of unmade beds, cluttered desks and piles of books didn’t faze you as you sat on the bed next to Sebastian, who had flopped backward with his arms resting lazily behind his head.

“I’m tired,” he declared, his eyes watching you carefully. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a quidditch hero.”

You huffed a laugh. “I’m pretty sure Alice was the one who caught the snitch,” you pointed out.

“Ah, but she wouldn’t have reached it if it hadn’t been for my bludger,” Sebastian said proudly. You couldn’t argue with that. Instead, you rested back on your elbows, your legs dangling off the side of the bed.

Sebastian’s eyes fluttered shut and you studied him for a quiet moment. Your best friend was devilishly handsome. Though he maintained his boyish charm, he was certainly not the same kid you met at age fifteen. Now, Sebastian was tall and broad-shouldered, toned and sturdy, much more of a man than a boy.

“Want me to let you get some sleep?” you asked. 

“No, stay. I’m just resting my eyes. I’ll get a second wind eventually.”

“Sebastian, it’s after midnight.”

“Time is a social construct,” came his quick reply. You snorted and shifted your gaze to the remainder of the room. You spotted Ominis’ bed, the only one neatly made, its curtains drawn shut. As you found yourself wondering what else went on in this room, you failed to notice Sebastian’s stare.

“So where were you anyway?”

You turned to look at Sebastian, who had one eye open. 

“What do you mean?”

“You showed up late to the party.”

You heaved a sigh as the source of your less-than-ideal evening returned to the forefront of your mind. “I was with Andrew.”

“Ah. A quick little escapade before the party.”

“It wasn’t like that at all,” you said with a bitter laugh. 

“Oh? It couldn’t have taken that long. You were late, but only by a half-hour or so.”

“Were you keeping track of time?”

“More like I was keeping track of you.”

You rolled your eyes. Sebastian, ever the protector. “Not that it’s any of your business,” you noted. “But we went up to the Astronomy Tower.”

Sebastian blinked in confusion. “But I thought you said you weren't hooking up.”

You groaned in annoyance. Though you and Sebastian were open books with one another, you didn’t feel very compelled to share the intimate details of your sex life – or lack thereof – with your best friend. Sure, you talked about sex, but the topic felt a bit more suggestive when you were alone on Sebastian's bed describing your own boyfriend's disinterest. 

But the tension you’d been carrying for weeks was mounting, and before you could stop yourself, you said, “It wasn’t anything. Andrew and I haven’t… done that in weeks.”

That had Sebastian’s attention. His other eye popped open and he sat up, not bothering to mask his curious gaze.

“What do you mean?” he demanded.

“Do I really need to spell it out for you?”

“Yes.”

You exhaled slowly, averting your eyes to the dark wood floor. “Andrew hasn’t touched me in weeks.”

“And by touched, you mean…”

You whipped your body around, the sudden movement causing Sebastian to flinch as you stared directly into his eyes.

“My boyfriend. Won’t. Fuck me,” you said slowly and deliberately.

Sebastian gaped at you. It was clear he was at a loss for words, and if you hadn’t been the center of the discussion, you likely would have laughed at his dumbfounded expression.

“Well, what’s wrong with him?” Sebastian asked.

“He’s too focused on his N.E.W.T.s. He just wants to study constantly.”

“With all due respect, I’ve been pretty well focused on studying too,” Sebastian said. “But that hasn’t stopped me from enjoying myself.”

“Yeah well, that makes one of us,” you muttered.

“But you’ve… you’ve tried to- to fuck him, right?” Sebastian asked.

“Of course, I have!” you snapped, instantly horrified by your tense response. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. 

Sebastian, however, flashed his canines in amusement. “Merlin, Larson really does have you worked into a tight little knot,” he mused.

“It’s not funny!” you groaned as you buried your face in your hands in misery.

"You’re right, it’s not,” Sebastian said, though you could still hear traces of a teasing tone in his voice.

“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you faster than you killed Solomon,” you hissed.

Sebastian barked a laugh. “I promise to tell no one,” he said. “But you really ought to take care of your… unfortunate situation. All that sexual tension is turning you rather violent.”

“Don’t you think I’d do something if I could?” 

“Well, have you, you know, taken care of it by yourself?”

“Sebastian,” you warned, warmth creeping up the back of your neck.

“I’m just saying. I doubt you’d let anyone else assist you. Use your hands.”

“These hands are going to strangle you if you don’t shut up.”

“I could only be so lucky.”

“Sebastian!”

“Why don’t you just break up with him?”

“What?”

“You said it yourself, it was just meant to be a teenage romance,” Sebastian reminded you. “But you’re an adult now. Maybe you need a more adultlike relationship with someone who’s a little more willing to satiate your adult needs.”

“Say adult one more fucking time.”

“Adult.” You threw a pillow at him and he chortled. “But seriously,” Sebastian continued. “Why are you still with him?”

“Because it’s complicated,” you sighed. “I really do care for him. I can’t break up with him just because we’ve hit a rough patch.”

“Rough patch? Darling, this is a full-blown pit of Venomous Tentacula.”

“Easy for you to say, considering you’ve never had a serious relationship in your entire life,” you sneered.

Sebastian merely shrugged. “No one worth the time and effort has become available to me,” he said.

“You’re hopeless.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But I’m not the one refusing to fuck you because I’m fretting over some stupid exams.”

The mere notion of having sex with Sebastian made your stomach flip. He was the one boy who appeared wholly unaffected by your looks and charm, though the same could be said vice-versa. 

You hid your attraction to Sebastian well, suppressed in a secret, dark place, deeper than any repository. The only time it ever surfaced was when you were alone in bed at night, your fingers relieving yourself while your mind fantasized over the one person you couldn’t have.

“Even if I did break up with him, I’d have to start all over,” you noted. “I’d have to find someone else to get me off.”

Sebastian let out a silly laugh that almost sounded like a giggle. “Darling, please,” he deadpanned. “Like you’d have any trouble finding someone to fuck you. You could step into the Common Room right now and there’d be a line out the door.”

“You make it sound like I’m the biggest tramp to trapeze through Hogwarts,” you muttered.

“No, that award goes to Imelda.”

“Besides, I’m sure everything will return to normal soon,” you continued, hoping your tone sounded more assured than miserable. 

Sebastian eyed you quietly, which made you shift nervously on your spot on the side of the bed. The sexually charged conversation had you hot and bothered, suddenly eager to return to your own dorm room. “Hopefully, for your sake,” he finally yawned. “But Larson clearly doesn’t realize how ignorant he is. If it were me, you’d barely be able to walk anymore.”

“Sebastian!”

---

The spring air should have met your senses with peace and placidity. It was a week later and most of the Hogwarts student body was taking advantage of the weather.

Students were scattered across the castle and its outdoor areas; some lounged lazily in the courtyards while others stretched across the grass at the center of the quidditch pitch. 

You wanted to join them, but for some abhorrent reason, you were currently sitting inside the library of all places. It was hot and stuffy in there, the scent of the books and their aging pages filling your nostrils when you should have been outside enjoying the scent of the blooming flowers or the handfuls of bubblegum you’d purchased from Honeyduke’s.

But no, you were presently leaning with your elbows on one of the library’s long tables, pouting as you watched Andrew study. The two of you were nearly the only ones in the entire place, save for a few of the more recluse and antisocial students who would probably disintegrate in the sunlight anyway. 

Your gaze fell on one boy – you forgot his name – who was hours deep into a Potions book. He was thin and pale, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was a vampire. The thought made you snort, which provoked a glare from Andrew.

You huffed a sigh as he returned to his reading. You studied him quietly and couldn’t help but smirk with lust.

Even though you were currently annoyed with him and his insistence on being a bookworm, he was so undoubtedly handsome. His sandy brown hair was parted to the side, his pretty green eyes darting across the lines of his Transfiguration book. His tall frame was currently hunched over the table, but when he sat back in his chair, his broad shoulders would rise and his long legs would stretch beneath the table.

Every so often, his brows would furrow as he mulled over the prose on the page, or he’d subconsciously chew at his bottom lip in an adorable way that made you want to climb him like a tree.

Watching him focus his attention on anything but you made you fidget and squirm. He still hadn’t touched you in weeks.

Of course, you understood that your Ravenclaw boyfriend was fixated on his studies. You took your education seriously, too, but you also recognized the importance of some self-care. A 20-minute study break to indulge in some sex wouldn’t kill you. Another day without it, however, just might.

You squeezed your thighs together, but the pressure only escalated the ache between them. You tried crossing and uncrossing your legs, but thoughts of something, anything, anyone between them were starting to consume you. 

You decided to take matters into your own hands. Surely you could turn on the charm and tempt Andrew now, in the dimly lit ambience of the quiet library. Most boys in the school would die to be in his shoes. How could he possibly resist you after weeks of abstaining? 

You leaned forward in your chair, your lips puffed out in a slight pout as you dipped your head just enough that you had to gaze upward at him with flirtatious eyes. You offered Andrew your best doe-eyed stare as you used the top of your foot to gently nudge his leg beneath the table.

He didn’t seem to notice at first, so you shifted in your seat to lean backward, puffing your chest out in hopes he’d be turned on by your breasts. The fabric of your blouse stretched taut over them, tightening as you stretched your shoulders. Your foot inched higher up his leg until you slowly dragged it downward again.

Still no response. It was absolutely maddening. Finally, you leaned forward again, your hand finding Andrew’s knee beneath the table. Your eyes swept the room to ensure Madam Scribner was nowhere in sight, your hand creeping up Andrew’s thigh until it met his groin. You slowly ran your palm over his crotch, hoping to stir his arousal.

Instead, he jerked his head up, the chair scraping loudly across the wood floor as he pushed backward from the table.

“What are you doing?” he hissed angrily.

You blinked in disbelief. Other boys would have finished in their own pants by now, but your own boyfriend couldn’t be bothered to even entertain your desires.

“Fine,” you said, pushing your own chair backward as you stood, your eyes narrowed at Andrew. “I’ll just have to take matters into my own hands. Or someone else’s.”

“What does that mean?” Andrew demanded. Your voices were rising and others were looking on in annoyance at the interruption.

“It means that if you aren’t going to fuck me, I’ll find someone who will,” you hissed bluntly. Andrew gaped at your lack of propriety, but you had no interest in pretending to be concerned for your image. “See you later.”

You stormed out of the library just as Madam Scribner surfaced to shush you. You rolled your eyes and continued on your way, making a beeline for the nearest castle exit.

Sunlight spilled across the Hogwarts grounds and you closed your eyes to appreciate its warmth. It spread across your skin, its heat exacerbating the fire that was ripping through your insides.

You weren’t actually on the hunt for the first male who would be willing to fuck. Even at your most feral, you had a little more dignity than that. You could relieve yourself of the tension in your core in private soon enough, but right now, you simply needed to get it all off your chest. You needed Sebastian.

But where was he?

He could be anywhere on a warm Saturday like this. Sometimes he liked to fly around the Highlands. Other times, he could be found socializing in the courtyard or in search of someone to duel… The Clock Tower. He had to be there.

You made a beeline for the Clock Tower Entrance and silently celebrated the familiar sight of Sebastian embattled in a friendly duel. You leaned against the archway as you watched him make quick work of Leander Prewett, ending the duel with a well-timed Expulso that sent Leander sprawling.

“Nice work,” you quipped as the duel ended and students began to disperse from the Clock Tower.

“Nothing to it,” Sebastian said as he pocketed his wand. He eyed your appearance and frowned. “What are you doing here? I thought you retired from Crossed Wands since no one could beat you?”

“Don’t fret, I’m still retired. I was looking for you.”

“At your service, darling. What’s up?”

You glanced around the room, where Lucan Brattleby was engaged in conversation with Nerida Roberts. “Not here,” you said. “Follow me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You led Sebastian by the hand inside the castle, your pace so quick he had to jog to keep up with you.

“Where are you going?” he demanded as you continued past the path to the Undercroft.

“Someplace private,” you answered simply.

“But the Under-”

“Someplace even more private.”

Finally, Sebastian understood. Besides Andrew, he was the only person you’d taken to the Room of Requirement, where the two of you occasionally brewed your own potions or provided Ominis with a break from your antics. You knew curiosity was clawing away at him, and your own impatience made you hasten your steps until you were at a full run. 

Sebastian chased after you, question after question spilling from his mouth as he scrambled to keep up. It was all so ridiculous, you couldn’t help but laugh as you sprinted through the castle’s halls together until you reached the stairwell toward the Room of Requirement.

“Slow down!” Sebastian laughed as you continued up the stairs. Your legs burned by the time you reached the top, but you said nothing as you approached the Room of Requirement, its entrance making way for you per usual.

“Been a while since I’ve been in here,” Sebastian said as he gazed around the room. He followed you to the sofas tucked away in the side room, where he promptly sat down and made himself comfortable. You, however, continued to pace back and forth in front of him.

You felt like a fucking cat in heat. Your mind raced at the argument you’d just had with Andrew. Was that your breakup? You couldn’t even be sure, but you also couldn’t bring yourself to care. The fact that Andrew didn’t chase after you when you left the library spoke volumes. And the fact that all you wanted was to dig your nails into Sebastian’s back and scream his name was probably the clearest indication that your relationship was over.

“What’s wrong?” Sebastian asked, his eyes weighted with concern as he watched you pace.

“Andrew,” was the best answer you could provide.

Sebastian’s eyes darkened with a familiarity you’d learned to recognize over the past three years. It was a clash of protectiveness and vigilance. “What did he do?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” you breathed hastily in an attempt to keep him calm. The last thing you needed was your best friend to hex your boyfriend, even if he was your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. “He just… we got into an argument in the library and I stormed out.”

“What were you arguing about?”

You hovered in front of a bookcase against the wall, unsure how to broach the subject. This was Sebastian, the boy who never judged you. He was your best friend and closest confidant. He had your back unconditionally and shared your darkest secrets. How could something as unprofound as sex be such a taboo topic?

“He still won’t have sex with me,” you finally blurted out. Sebastian’s eyes widened at your revelation. Sure, the two of you had just discussed it a week prior, but that was when you were both drunk, riding the high of a post-party haze. “I can’t take it anymore,” you continued. “It isn’t fair.”

Sebastian’s smirk returned and you made a silent vow to hex him into oblivion if he dared to laugh at you.

“You’re right, it isn’t fair,” he said sincerely. “Darling, please tell me you broke up with the sorry excuse of a lad.”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I told him…” you huffed in embarrassment. “I told him if he wouldn’t fuck me, I’d find someone who would.”

The laughter that escaped Sebastian’s lips was borderline alarming. He hunched over and clutched his sides until he had to catch his breath.

“Merlin, you really are a horny little minx, aren’t you?” he grinned.

“It’s not funny!”

“You’re right, it’s not. Except-” he chuckled. “–Except it is rather comical to think about the hero of Hogwarts and the desire of every boy in the school stomping around and throwing a tantrum because her sad excuse of a boyfriend can’t make her come.”

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head from his audacity. “Sebastian!” you chided.

“Don’t get cross with me!” Sebastian said, throwing his hands up. “I would never leave you unsatisfied.”  

You inhaled sharply through your nostrils. His words seemed to cloud overhead, daring you to take the bait. He sat back smugly, but you could see the uncertainty in his eyes as he waited for your reaction.

You swallowed in preparation. For nearly three years, the two of you had danced around the obvious; the whispers of “Will they or won’t they?” and the ceaseless rumors about all the things the two of you had or hadn’t done; the sexual tension that made you both straighten in your seats every time someone else dared to suggest you were more than friends; the anguishing questions you both never asked in fear of knowing the answers.

The truth was, the root of your sexual tension had very little to do with Andrew Larson. It had damn near everything to do with Sebastian Sallow.

Graduation was approaching and you had no idea what would become of your friendship. Sebastian and Ominis were set to move to London as roommates, and you had plans to do the same with Natsai. But adulthood would be different. You and Sebastian wouldn’t be a mere common room apart. And there’d be new people, new friends, new opportunities. The ache between your thighs was far deeper than the desire to know what it’d be like to be fucked by Sebastian Sallow; it was the desperate longing for a more permanent place in his life.

“Prove it,” you finally said, feigning confidence as you dared to look him in the eye.

Finally, you had managed to catch Sebastian off guard. All of these years of teasing banter and suggestive innuendo, and you finally had him pinned against a wall of astonishment. He hadn’t expected you to give in, especially in a way that managed to challenge him.

He gaped at you, a rare deviation from his typical air of self-assuredness. Your gaze remained fixated on him, cool yet inquisitive, ready to see if he’d put his money where his mouth is.

“Wait,” he finally said. “You… you really want to?”

“Why not? You’ve always been able to help me through every other trial and tribulation. Why not this one? Unless the rumors aren’t true.” You were toeing dangerous territory, teasing him while knowing damn well he’d gladly punish you for it.

“Oh, they’re true.” He couldn’t help himself. He always rose to a challenge, and you knew he’d rise to this one. But his eyes weren’t smug or even confident. They looked concerned. “So just to be sure,” he continued slowly. “You want me to… to fuck you.”

“Yes.” It was then that you realized how your chest had been heaving with every breath, a blend of nerves and lust you weren’t sure you’d overcome if you were denied again.

And to your absolute horror, Sebastian sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. It knocked the wind from you, causing the room to whirl as you searched your brain for an escape. But then Sebastian looked up at you again, and the sincerity in his eyes kept you rooted to the spot.

“Look,” he said after drawing a shaky breath. “I’m not going to sit here and pretend like I don’t spend every bit of my free time imagining what it’d be like to feel you absolutely and utterly fall apart beneath me. I spend a shameful amount of time thinking about you in ways that would positively make you want to hex me in the same way I’ve thought about hexing Larson. But you… you’re everything to me. I can’t lose you.”

What a day it had been. You entered the Room of Requirement prepared to beg your best friend to absolutely ruin you. Instead, he was confessing his love for you.

You couldn’t help but release a shaky laugh. It wasn’t the romantic declaration you wanted to respond with, but it was the most fitting and accurate reaction to such an idiotic situation.

“You mean to tell me,” you said slowly, your voice still wavering with disbelief, “That I could have been fucking you this entire time?”

It clearly wasn’t the response Sebastian had expected, because his eyes seemed to search you for confirmation, as if he was waiting for you to laugh or reveal the scene to be some kind of twisted prank. But when you maintained your serious gaze, he grinned in disbelief.

“I didn’t realize the feeling was mutual,” he said.

“Merlin, you fucking idiot,” you hissed. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Oh, sure, because it would be that simple! I’d just waltz on up to you in the middle of dinner and tell you I’m in love with you,” Sebastian said incredulously. “Besides, you have a boyfriend anyway!” 

“I wouldn’t have that boyfriend if you’d told me! Besides, you seem perfectly pleased to fuck every other girl in the school!”

“Only because I couldn’t have the one I wanted!” The absurdity of it all made you dizzy and Sebastian sat back on the sofa looking dazed. “So what are you going to do now?” he asked.

You didn’t need long to decide. It had clearly been a day for bold declarations and daring acts. Why not keep the trend going? You decided you were going to get what you wanted.

“I’m going to fuck you until I’m satisfied, and then I’m going to go break up with my boyfriend for good.”

Before you could give Sebastian a chance to overthink another damn thing, you were on him, your legs straddling him as you mounted his lap and greedily grasped at his necktie. Your first kiss was a stunning reflection of the two of you – passionate and unrefined, not to mention stubborn as you both refused to be the first to pull away.

Finally, you relented, panting as you paused to gaze at Sebastian. You couldn’t help but snort at how positively elated he looked.

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” you laughed.

“Funny, you’re the one who seems so desperate to be fucked,” he replied smoothly. It made you even hornier.

“So be a man of your word then,” you whispered. Your lips crushed against his again and you couldn’t help but rock your hips, the feeling of his erection beneath you stealing the air from your lungs. You shifted so that you could feel his hard length against your clothed entrance and it made you whimper in desperation. The heat was overwhelming.

Sebastian smirked. “You’re absolutely done for, you know that, right?”

“Shut up.” You yanked at his tie for good measure, your fingers working to loosen the knot as your core remained pressed against the bulge in Sebastian’s pants. The way his breaths became ragged indicated he would be just as ruined as you by the time you left that room – if you ever left.

Sebastian’s sweater and shirt followed his tie as you addressed every stupid little button. By the time you reached the bottom, you huffed with annoyance that was short-lived once Sebastian was bare-chested beneath you. You’d seen him shirtless a handful of times, but never close enough to touch, and touch him you did.

Your palms skimmed his chest and torso as you demanded another kiss. You bit down gently on Sebastian’s bottom lip, stirring more arousal from him. Your own shirt didn’t stand a chance.

Buttons popped and sailed around you like confetti before your blouse was discarded on the marble floor. Sebastian’s eyes roamed the new view of flesh above him, but it was clearly not enough. His hands drifted to the clasp of your bra, which snapped apart with precision and joined your shirt on the floor.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” Sebastian hissed as he palmed your breasts. He reveled in the way they filled his hands, soft and full. “Tell me what you want.”

“You know what I want.”

“I want to hear it.”

“I want you to show me what I’ve been missing. I want you to give me the best fucking of my life.”

“Anything for you, darling.”

His hands roamed beneath the hem of your skirt and your breath hitched as you could feel his warm palms inching up your thighs. A single thumb dared to swipe across your entrance, which had soaked your panties ages ago.

The feeling made Sebastian’s breath hiss. “How did you get so wet?”

“How did you get so dense?”

Your banter was meant to be playful, but Sebastian and all his primal instincts viewed it as a challenge. Though he had every intention of showing you pleasure beyond your darkest dreams, he wasn’t going to give in without some teasing too.

“Calling me dense when you’re clearly dying to have me,” he tutted. “You’ve been awfully bold for someone who hasn’t been fucked for so long.”

His fingers worked their way through the side of your panties and he groaned as they were instantly coated by your wetness before they could even enter you. You whimpered as he dragged two fingers across your folds. “That’s what I thought,” Sebastian teased at your pitiful response to his touch. 

He slipped a finger inside of you and you chewed your bottom lip at the sensation. You shifted forward, sending his finger deeper until you were desperate for more pressure.

“More,” you whined. Sebastian obliged. His middle finger joined his index and he used them to gently pump at your core, the base of his hand pressed against your clit. You were so damn sensitive already, you knew you’d unravel within moments.

“Like that?” Sebastian hummed. You nodded, too fixated on your aching cunt to offer a verbal response. Sebastian’s movements stopped. “I said, like that?” You whined in protest. “Fine. Guess you’ll have to do the work yourself.”

Sebastian’s fingers lingered inside you but held still, prompting you to rock against them. You lifted your hips and rocked downward, using his fingers in the way he’d hoped. 

He licked his lips at the sight of you fucking yourself on his fingers, his pants strained impossibly tight over his arousal. But he waited patiently as you worked yourself over his hand, your walls clenching around his fingers to earn your release.

That tender spot of flesh inside of you pressed repeatedly against Sebastian’s fingertips, the pressure building as the sounds of your slickness exposed your sinful act. 

“Oh, fuck,” you breathed as could feel the climax nearing, the peak edging to the surface of your walls until they pulsed with pleasure around Sebastian’s fingers. You moaned as you rode it out, grinding downward so that his fingers dug into your sensitive spot. Sebastian grunted as you flooded his hand, the sensation making his cock twitch with desire.

When your orgasm subsided, you slumped on top of Sebastian to catch your breath. 

“Fucking hell,” he said as he examined his coated hand. “I’m never going to recover from this.”

The admission sparked renewed energy within you as you realized the two of you were just getting started. If Sebastian’s fingers could fuck you to completion, you were anxious to learn what his cock could do.

You rose begrudgingly to your feet to slip your skirt and ruined panties off, standing naked over Sebastian, whose erection looked painful inside his tented trousers, damp from your release.

“You’re a fucking vision,” he said as he studied your naked form, his arms outstretched as they rested over the back of the sofa. 

You smirked and moved for his belt. He lifted his hips so that you could remove his pants, his boxers following suit, and you had to steel yourself at the full sight of him.

He was bigger than Andrew. You wondered if it would cause the uncomfortable pain you’d felt during your first time. You liked to think you’d had enough experience to become used to it, but your body wasn’t accustomed to accommodating anyone quite so large. The challenge of it all made your core throb with more desire.

You dropped to your knees and took Sebastian into your mouth before he could even think to protest. It was better than you’d dreamed of, smooth like velvet and far too big to fit in your entire mouth – not that you wouldn’t try.

“Fucking hell,” Sebastian hissed as his tip met the back of your throat. His hands balled in your hair and his eyes snapped shut. “This has to be heaven.”

“What makes you think you’re getting into heaven?” you asked, pausing to gaze upward at him with a smirk. 

“Fine. If this is hell, I reckon I’ll be just fine.”

Your mouth returned to work and the room fell quiet except for the sound of your lips sharply sucking against his shaft. It made him shudder.

A sharp tug of your hair made you gasp as Sebastian pulled you off his cock. You whined in confusion, but he smirked.

“Let’s give that pretty little mouth of yours a break, love,” he said. “You’re going to need it once you start screaming.”

“But-”

Sebastian held your face in his hands, a loving gesture that juxtaposed the filthy acts you were performing. “If you were anyone else, darling, I’d gladly allow you to continue. But if you keep at it, I’m not going to be able to satisfy you for long. And I want as much time with you as possible.”

It was a vulnerable admission, especially from someone as confident and experienced as Sebastian. The notion that you could absolutely ruin him with your mere mouth made you drunk with power.

“Now,” Sebastian continued as he reached for your hand to tug you closer. You rose to your feet and he peered up at you with a dreamy gaze. “What can we do to relieve the neglect your imbecile of a boyfriend has created?”

A hundred different possibilities flashed through your mind as all of your fantasies clashed at once. You’d spent hours daydreaming of the different ways Sebastian would wreck you – positions that defied physics, vile phrases that insulted the English language, sensations that left your brain a pile of mush. You wanted it all, yet in this moment, you were wholly content to simply feel him in any way he’d allow. And given your mutual epiphanies earlier, there’d be plenty of future opportunities for you and Sebastian to exert your sexual tension.

“First,” you said, your voice husky as you straddled him again, lowering your entrance until it hovered just above his erect cock. The heat made his breath hitch. “I’m going to use you until I come all over your cock.” Sebastian nodded obediently. “And then, you’re going to pin me down and fuck me until every painting in this room has heard your name.”

Sebastian swallowed. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Then we’re both going to die happy, love.”

The decisive moment had arrived as you sank around Sebastian’s tip, slow and steady as the sensation of your folds gliding over his shaft made you hold your breath. Sebastian squeezed your hips in anticipation as he watched you descend far too slowly for his liking. His restraint had nearly disintegrated when you suddenly dropped downward the rest of the way in one quick and fluid motion, the tops of his thighs pressed against your ass. The sudden warmth that enveloped him made Sebastian groan.

“Unreal,” he gasped as you held still in his lap, willing your cunt to accommodate him more. You were gritting your teeth the entire time you stretched around him, exploring his size with determination. 

“Fuck, Sebastian,” you whimpered. “You’re big.”

“Oh?” Sebastian chewed on his bottom lip as he smirked at you, though the rise and fall of his chest exposed his fragility. “And here I thought I’d have to measure up to that boyfriend of yours. Guess I easily fill his shoes.”

“And then some,” you moaned. You hadn’t even moved, but the mere feeling of Sebastian filling you entirely was enough to make your cunt threaten to contract. You dared to shift in his lap, leaning in closer to him. He sucked in a sharp breath of air.

“I can see why you were wound so tight now,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Good thing I have you to help me unwind then.” You lifted your hips until your cunt glided upward, hovering around Sebastian’s tip until you dipped downward again. The look on Sebastian’s face was almost as satisfying as the pressure that swelled inside of you. 

His hands roamed to your breasts, cupping one in each hand as a thumb gently stroked each nipple. “I want to play with these while you come undone,” he said.

You picked up your pace, using the head of Sebastian’s cock to ignite friction against the sensitive spot deep inside of you. Soon, the sounds of your ass smacking against Sebastian’s thighs coursed through the room as you rose and slammed yourself downward repeatedly.

Sebastian was fighting sensory overload; the erotic sounds of your skin connecting, the sight of your breasts bouncing with every movement, the salty taste of your sweaty skin when he kissed your neck. It was too much, yet not nearly enough.

“M’close,” you moaned as you threw your head back, your eyes squeezed shut as you willed your body to comply. Sebastian’s eyes drifted downward to the place where you were connected. If his cock disappearing into your cunt was the last thing he saw before he died, he’d go willingly.

His thumb pressed against your clit, forcing your eyes to snap open in surprise. “Oh fuck,” you wailed. Your bottom lip was raw and red from the way you were chewing on it, desperate to release the tension coiled inside of you. A few more swipes of Sebastian’s thumb triggered it, your shriek echoing across the stone walls as you rocked forward, holding your hips downward in place as your walls clenched and shuddered around Sebastian’s cock.

Your breaths became short, pitchy gasps as you recovered, your body thoroughly exhausted as you clutched Sebastian’s shoulders for support. He sat with his head tilted backward against the back of the sofa, his eyes clamped shut from bracing himself through your orgasm. His lap now held a puddle of your release and he didn’t bother to hide his arousal from the vulgarity of it all. 

Once you caught your breath enough to speak, you uttered a faint laugh. “I really hope this isn’t a dream I’m going to wake up from,” you said. 

“I don’t know,” Sebastian mused, his hands rubbing gentle circles over the tops of your thighs as he gazed at you with fondness. “Personally, I’d stay and live in this dream forever if I could.”

He placed a featherlight kiss on your eyelashes and for a moment, you nearly forgot that you were currently wrapped around his twitching cock. But as Sebastian shifted uncomfortably beneath you, the pressure returned to your core.

“Now,” he said, his hands placed flat against the small of your back. “Let’s make sure you never think about that useless boyfriend ever again.”

He rose, lifting you from the sofa as you wrapped your legs around him for support. He couldn’t help but kiss you, his way of making it clear he was strong enough to hold you in such a position for future engagements. Once he placed you gently on your back, he crawled between your legs, resting back on his heels as he studied your form.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said as he gripped his own cock. 

“Show me.”

He was on top of you instantly, one hand supporting his weight while the other guided his cock back to your entrance. He sank inside you again and groaned at the return of your warmth. No one else would ever compare to it and Sebastian was sure he wouldn’t want them anyway. Not when he now knew how it felt to have you entirely.

“One more time for me, love,” he said with a thrust of his hips. “You look positively stunning when you come.” You tightened your legs around him to signal your insatiable hunger. 

“Harder,” you ordered. Sebastian would have been a fool to defy you, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t make you earn it. 

His hand snapped to your wrists, pinning them above your head as he bucked his hips for emphasis. The motion rippled through your body, forcing a moan from your throat. “Say please.”

“Please,” you whimpered.

“With feeling.”

“Please.”

“You’re so pretty when you beg.” He pulled his cock out so that only the tip remained against your cunt, swiping it over your clit as he licked his lips at the moisture that clung to it. “So fucking wet for me, too.”

Before you could protest, he dipped his head between your legs to drag his tongue over your raw entrance. It plunged inside your folds and trailed to your clit, where Sebastian’s mouth gently sucked until you kicked your feet from the overwhelming sensitivity. 

He slowly crawled back to meet your face, planting a swift kiss on your lips. 

“I’m going to love you forever, you know that?”

“I do now,” you breathed. “And the feeling’s mutual. Now shut the fuck up.”

Sebastian pushed his cock back inside you with less restraint this time. It drove deep within your walls in repeated jabs, the sound of your bodies clapping together with each thrust. 

The moans that fell from your lips sounded more like a howl as you clenched yourself around Sebastian’s cock in a frantic attempt to draw one more orgasm from it. He held a palm against your chest, pressing you downward into the sofa cushions as he rocked hard against you. 

Andrew had never fucked you this hard and you knew you’d never recover from it. There was no returning from a frenzied fucking like this, especially when the only person you’d ever loved was responsible for it.

You cried Sebastian’s name as his cock pounded your cunt, fervidly coaxing your walls to release. You could feel them begin to spasm as they gripped Sebastian’s hard shaft until they finally convulsed, the pleasure eliciting a guttural cry from you. Your entire body responded this time, your back arching and legs quaking as the orgasm rippled through you until you were left squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to prolong its final flutters.

You were absolutely fucked out beyond ruin, and Sebastian’s reward surfaced quickly. The sight of you so drained, so satiated by your undoing, confirmed that he was entirely lost in you. He was yours now and he’d be damned if Andrew Larson or any other brainless oaf tried to claim you ever again.

“Fucking hell,” he choked as he continued to rail his cock inside your tired cunt. “Ready to be mine?”

You nodded, still aroused by the anticipation of Sebastian finishing inside of you. Another moan escaped your lips and Sebastian grunted, forcing his cock hard into you as he spurted his release. It painted your insides with warmth, signaling the end of your romp, Sebastian’s labored breaths marking the final moments of his climax. 

Your eyelids were heavy as you became hyperaware of just how worn out your body was, but all of the tension you’d carried for the past few weeks was gone. You were relaxed now. Sebastian had certainly delivered on his promise.

When you let your eyes drift open again, you realized he was still above you, gazing at you with renewed affection.

“All right?” he asked. You offered him the prettiest smile you could manage.

“What do you think?”

“I think you ought to go break up with that boyfriend of yours.”

“Sebastian, you’re literally still inside me. Do you really think I’m concerned with anyone else right now?”

“Oh. Too right, you are.” He was lingering, and you weren’t sure if it was because he was tired or because he wanted to prolong the moment. Whatever the reason, you were in no rush to part from him. He seemed to be studying you, and you recognized the familiar tells that he was deep in thought, like his furrowed eyebrows and slight pout.

“Anything you care to share with the class?” you murmured. 

“It’s just that… I mean, you and I-” Sebastian struggled for the right words. “This wasn’t a one-time thing, right?”

“I fucking hope not.”

“Good. Because you’ve absolutely ruined me for life.” 

Finally, he drew backward and straightened, offering you a hand to help you to your feet. Your eyes fell to your crumpled shirt on the floor and you heaved a sigh. The buttons were gone, the threads that held them shredded and torn beyond Reparo.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” you whined as you held the shirt up to show Sebastian the results of his impatience. He looked far too smug for your liking.

“Guess you’ll just have to wear mine,” he said with a shrug. He bent down to pick up his sweater and tossed it to you. “Too hot for me to be wearing this anyway.” You slipped it over your head, its large sleeves swallowing your arms, the initials “S.S.” embroidered in green over your left breast. It smelled like him – warm and woodsy. Though it was far too big for you, you decided you’d never give it back.

“I look ridiculous,” you huffed. Sebastian, however, beamed at you with pride.

“You look fucking sinful,” he declared, his grin revealing his glee.

Once you were both clothed, albeit visibly disheveled, you slipped from the Room of Requirement and descended the staircase.

“Hungry?” you asked Sebastian as you reached the lower level of the Astronomy Wing. He nodded but you frowned as he veered in the direction opposite the Great Hall. “Where are you going?” you asked as you clung to his arm.

Sebastian glanced sideways at you and smirked, taking in the sight of you in his oversized sweater, his initials marking his new territory. 

“I believe we need to make a stop in the library first.”