#sub!ominis

[lyworth]

What better way to solve an argument?

Part 2 of dialogue tropes I love: "Make Me," is forever going to be a part of my heart, my soul, my psyche. Mix it into Ominis x MC and I'm weak at the knees.

[callmehopeless]

I do not see Dominis. That man is a bratty sub bottom, he's a pillow princess

You can take that to the bank

[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

[whizzing-fizzbee]

I'm going on vacation, so as a tiny parting gift and since everyone seems to love Subastian, I give you...

Ignorant.

Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit/MDNI; all characters are adults Words: ~4000 Tags: female reader insert, 2nd person POV, no y/n, smut, soft dom/sub, Subastian Sallow, teasing, edging, orgasm denial, revenge, marriage, post-Hogwarts, aged up characters, MDNI

Summary: You already know what this one's about. That incident. On this day five years ago, Sebastian Sallow had the audacity to call you ignorant during an argument in the Undercroft. You forgave but you sure as hell didn't forget. Now, you're exacting some revenge five years later to show your new husband who the ignorant one really is. In other words: MC is petty as hell for remembering and exploiting the "ignorant" incident in the form of sexual revenge.

Notes: I love how the "ignorant" incident has become an ongoing joke within the HL fandom, so this is just something silly and stupid I thought up. Major thanks to @newdreamlove95 for helping me sort through the logistics of this one.

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

Today was special. It marked a particular anniversary for you and your beloved husband. No, it wasn’t your wedding anniversary, nor was it the annual marking of the first day you met, or even your first date.

This anniversary held a much more facetious meaning. Perhaps you were petty for remembering it, but you never claimed to be perfect.

It all started five years ago, when you were caught in the middle of a whirlwind school year. You had just started at Hogwarts, already years behind your classmates in your lessons. Then you discovered that not-so little secret about your ancient magic and Ranrok’s mission to turn Hogwarts and its surrounding hamlets to hell on earth, all while your new friend Sebastian decided to dip his toes into dark magic to try and save his sister.

Needless to say, your first year at Hogwarts was a bit much. But plenty of good did come from it. You saved the school – and probably the entirety of the surrounding Highlands – from Ranrok, Rookwood and their loyalists. You took down a notorious ring of poachers and saved the golden snidgets. You exposed Cassandra Mason and took over her decaying Hogsmeade shop, gave Puffskein Duncan the ridiculing he deserved and helped that sweet old goblin reunite with his dear mooncalf Biscuit. All that, and you even managed to make that freckled friend of yours fall in love with you.

You hadn’t meant to. Sure, you’d had a crush on Sebastian from the start, and apparently he had it bad for you the moment you demolished him in that Defense Against the Dark Arts duel. But he spent most of your fifth year chasing down a cure for Anne’s curse, while you spent that time chasing him down in hopes he wouldn’t get himself killed. 

It wasn’t until all the dust had settled – after Solomon’s death, Ranrok’s demise and Ominis Gaunt’s decision to keep quiet about Sebastian’s crimes – that Sebastian realized how important you had become to him. It was somewhere around Christmas of your sixth year that he finally crafted the courage to tell you. 

Since then, you and Sebastian Sallow were synonymous. Where you went, he went, and vice-versa. When someone spoke your name, his followed. It was no surprise to your Hogwarts classmates and professors that you eventually became Mrs. Sallow.

But your great love story wasn’t without a few hiccups. You and Sebastian were both bold and brash. You both liked to fight fire with fire, and while he was much more impulsive, you were stubborn and clever. It was inevitable that the two of you occasionally tussled, but you also loved one another far too deeply to ever let your grievances get too far.

Except for this one tiny, little thing.

You brought it up only on rare occasion. If anything, it had become an inside joke of sorts between you and your husband – a silly memory of your rocky beginnings. He apologized profusely and you’d forgiven him ages ago. But that didn’t mean you forgot.

So on this particular day, which marked five years since that irritating little incident, you decided it was time to remind your husband to be mindful of how he speaks to you.

The two of you left work promptly at 5 p.m. You were both Aurors, another example of how in tandem the two of you were. You’d spent your Hogwarts days as partners in crime only to graduate and become partners who chased down criminals.

But today, Sebastian was the only one who would be paying for any crimes – even if they had technically been forgiven five years ago.

You entered your London townhome per usual, tossing your coat on a hook by the door as Sebastian whined about being hungry. You barely acknowledged his words. You were far too excited to serve revenge, not dinner.

While he rummaged through the cabinets for something to eat, you kicked off your shoes and continued to your home office. It was your own secluded space where you kept your most important belongings – notebooks about the repository, research on ancient magic, observations about that stupid relic Sebastian had stolen your fifth year. You kept it all filed away safely under lock and key. The remainder of your office housed a desk covered in trinkets, an old armchair and a row of modest bookshelves. And in one corner of the office sat the old triptych. 

You took Isidora Morganach’s triptych with you upon graduating Hogwarts when you and Sebastian decided you couldn’t risk leaving it for someone to stumble upon in the Undercroft. It now posed as a pretty piece of artwork, its significance only meant for you and Sebastian.

You gazed at the triptych and smiled to yourself. It represented a monumental portion of your past, particularly with Sebastian. In many ways, you might even say it brought the two of you closer as you spent months during your fifth year searching for its missing canvases. And then, there was that moment, which occurred on this day in front of the triptych five years ago.

“Oh, darling!” you called out. “Can you come here?”

You leaned with your back to the desk, wand held lazily in one hand as you waited. Sebastian’s footsteps padded against the wood floors until he was lingering in the doorway of your office.

“Yes, love?” He stepped into the room, his brow furrowed as he noticed you gazing at the triptych. “What is it?”

“Oh, I was just thinking about this old thing,” you said innocently as you gestured toward the triptych. “Brings back quite a few memories.”

Sebastian blinked, unsure what to make of your sudden nostalgia. “That, it does,” he agreed. “What’s the reason for this trip down memory lane?”

“Oh, nothing,” you shrugged. “I was just thinking back and realized what day it is.”

“What day it is?” Sebastian repeated blankly. You smirked as you could see the panic surging through his head. He was certainly trying to recall important dates, terrified he’d forgotten your birthday or anniversary. “Sorry, darling, I don’t recall.”

You stepped toward him, hooking one arm around his neck to pull him close, your bright eyes shining as you smiled at him. “You don’t remember what happened with this triptych on this day five years ago?”

Sebastian fought to remember, his frown deepening as he struggled for a response. “Five years ago? I’m sorry, love,” he admitted. “I have no idea.”

“Oh, well that’s okay,” you said with a shrug. “It’s not really that big of a deal.” You reached for his tie and tugged him into a slow kiss, offering him a cheery smile when you pulled away.

“But if it’s important to you-” Sebastian started. You cut him off with another kiss, stepping toward him to press your body against his. You knew he’d forget all about that triptych now.

As you dragged your tongue against Sebastian’s bottom lip, you rocked your hips forward into his. His fingers pressed into the small of your back. You nudged him backward until he was against the desk, his thigh between your legs. You grinded yourself against him and moaned, your eyes falling shut as you rocked. 

“Fucking hell, what’s gotten into you?” Sebastian breathed. You kissed him again, the flat palms of your hands raking down his chest until they were in his lap. You smirked against his lips as you felt the bulge in his trousers.

“I love when you get hard for me,” you whispered, one hand stroking over his length. Sebastian groaned at your touch. You continued to rub him through his trousers until he was fully erect, the fabric now straining tight around him. You shifted forward against his thigh. 

“Tell me you want me,” you breathed in his ear.

“You know I do,” Sebastian murmured. 

“Where do you want me to touch you?”

“You know where.”

You fiddled with the knot of his tie and yanked his shirt open to slide it down his arms until it was a crumpled heap on the desktop, then you kissed a trail across his jawline and returned flat on your feet so you could tug his trousers off. “Here?” you asked as two fingers traced the tip of his bare cock. 

“Yes, there,” Sebastian hissed.

“What do you want me to do to you?” You ran your tongue across your bottom lip as you held eye contact.

“Everything,” he breathed. 

“Such as?”

“Ride me.”

“And what do you want to do to me?”

“Ruin you.”

You pulled away just far enough to gaze upward at him with soft doe eyes. He was beaming, clearly under the false impression he was going to bend you over that desk.

“And you really don’t remember what today is?”

“I’m sorry, love, I don’t.”

You tutted, your hand gently cupping his face as you pouted at him. “That’s a shame,” you mewed as you gazed into Sebastian’s worried eyes. “Didn’t realize you were so ignorant.”

You flashed a gleeful grin as you watched the realization and the horror swell over Sebastian's expression.

“Y- you actually remember the specific date of that?” he whined. “You cannot be serious.”

“Oh, love, I am so serious,” you breathed as you steadied your wand hand. “Petrificus totalus.”

Sebastian’s arms snapped to his side and his legs locked. You caught him before he could crash to the floor and eased him down gently until he was flat on his back. You smirked into his eyes, which blinked back at you in disbelief. 

“Sorry, dear,” you said merrily as you leaned over him until you were inches from his face. You dropped your wand next to his body to taunt him, leaving it within reach though he couldn’t move. “But I’m going to show you who the ignorant one is here.” 

You stood over Sebastian, his torso between your feet as you started to unbutton your blouse. You maintained your stare down into his eyes as your fingers worked slowly and deliberately until you were slipping your arms from the sleeves. You tossed the shirt into a corner and returned your fingers to the clasp of your bra. You let it drop from your body so that it fell across Sebastian’s chest. 

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” you whined dramatically as you wriggled out of your skirt and kicked it aside with your bra. Looming over Sebastian in just your soaked panties, you flashed him a cheeky grin. “Can’t you tell?” He blinked in despair.

“Oh, sorry, love,” you said with nonchalance as you reached for a pillow from the armchair. You tucked it beneath Sebastian’s head to prop it up and smiled. “There. Is that better?”

You smiled at his lack of response and stepped out of your panties. Now fully bare, you sank to the floor until you were straddling Sebastian’s chest, your parted knees on either side of his biceps.

“Merlin, what a day it’s been,” you declared. “I was so tense all day.” You spoke with slow drama, your hand carefully snaking down your chest and past your stomach until it was between your thighs. You stared at Sebastian as you dragged two fingers over your entrance and let out a melodramatic moan, drawing long, slow swipes across your clit until you needed more. You sank a finger inside yourself and inhaled sharply at the welcome intrusion, extracting it slowly to ensure Sebastian could see your slick arousal. 

He hated when you made him watch, which rarely happened because he was always quick to ravage you the moment he became jealous of your fingers. But not this time.

“That’s better,” you breathed as your wet fingers found your clit again. You worked as slowly as you could withstand, sexy gasps and whimpers chorusing from your throat to emphasize just how much you were enjoying yourself. Your thighs locked around Sebastian’s biceps as you brought yourself close to a climax. Though his stiff body remained still, you could hear his breaths becoming ragged beneath you.

Your hips jutted forward as the heat mounted within your nerve endings until it sent searing spasms deep below the surface of your skin. You choked out a pitchy moan as you rubbed yourself to completion, your eyes clamped shut until it was over.

You peeked one eye open once your body stopped shivering. Sebastian was staring up at you with desperate defeat in his eyes. You flashed your canines at him.

“Oh, that was good,” you moaned as you remained seated on his chest. “But it certainly could have been better. Too bad I’m too ignorant to get myself off properly.”

You heaved a dramatic sigh as you rose to your feet, offering Sebastian a full view of the aftermath of your solo play until you sauntered toward the door.

“My, I’m parched,” you mused, casting a smirk downward at Sebastian. “Pardon me, love. I’m just going to go fetch something to drink.”

You wanted to prolong this as long as you could. You wanted to relish it, remember it, commit it to memory, because if you knew your husband, you knew he’d find some way to exact revenge sooner than later.

By the time you returned with a glass of water in hand, you almost felt guilty for what you were doing to your poor husband. He remained on the floor, eyes blinking upward as you lowered yourself into the armchair with a satiated smile to sip casually from the cool glass. 

“I was so thirsty!” you drawled as you allowed some of the water to spill onto your chest. “Oops!” It trickled between your breasts, down your body, toward your lap. “How ignorant of me,” you laughed as you set the glass on the desktop with a crisp clink.

“Now,” you said as you knelt on the floor next to Sebastian. “I took care of myself. I suppose it’s only fair that I take care of you too, given your sorry state.” You crawled closer to him and leaned over to peer into his eyes. “How’s this?” you cooed as you dragged your palm down his chest. You lowered your lips to his neck and sucked gently against the skin. 

“Why are you sweaty, Seb?” you teased in his ear. His eyes shifted in reply. You barked a laugh and returned your lips to his body. You kissed down his chest toward his navel and stilled, peering into Sebastian’s eyes with a new sense of seriousness.

“Do you want me to keep going?” you asked as you studied his eyes for any sign of protest. “Blink once for yes, twice if you really want me to stop.”

Sebastian blinked once. You smirked at him and dipped your head, placing a kiss just below his belly button until you eyed his erection. 

“You poor thing,” you cooed, your hot breath ghosting over his cock. You hovered above it, your lips painfully close to making contact. Sebastian puffed an impatient breath through his nose. The tip of his cock glistened with arousal.

Finally, you ran your flattened tongue the length of his shaft. You moved slowly; you knew Sebastian – ever the impatient one – went wild whenever you did that. 

The room was still as you wrapped your lips around Sebastian’s cock and sucked. Your tongue danced circles around the tip each time your head bobbed upward. He always moaned and groaned when you did that, but this time, you savored his silence.

Your jaw slackened and you eased your throat around Sebastian’s cock until it reached the back. You hummed as you held him there, your eyes shining with satisfaction because you knew he was undoubtedly on the cusp of losing his mind. As you glided and gurgled around his tip, you were almost certain you could hear him whimper. You hastened your movements until your hollowed cheeks ached from pulling against his cock. 

You listened carefully to Sebastian’s breathing, ready to time your next move. When you heard sharp, short puffs of exhale emanating from his nostrils, signaling his impending peak, you let his cock pop free from your mouth. You smirked and licked your lips at him. His labored breaths sounded painful.

Sebastian’s body may have been incapable of movement, but it clearly wasn’t immune to temperature change. His skin was scalding hot and you could see beads of sweat glistening in the low light. 

“What’s the matter, Seb?” you teased with the back of one hand placed flat against his forehead. “You’re absolutely burning up.” 

You leaned down to plant a kiss on his lips. His nostrils flared as his eyes bore into yours.

“Now, what else was it that you wanted from me?” You tapped your chin as you pretended to think. “Ah, yes. Something about me riding you? How does that sound?”

Sebastian blinked once. You cackled in response. He was foolish if he thought you were going to be doing any of this for his benefit, and his eyes looked worried for what else was in store.

You climbed on top of him, your thighs hugging the sides of his hips as you arched your back to show off your body. Sebastian typically called the shots when it came to sex. He was dominant and you liked the way he took control in the bedroom. But not today. Today was yours.

You could feel Sebastian’s erection pressing against your entrance. If the anticipation didn’t kill you, surely Sebastian would. He was never very apt at the slow burn dance that was foreplay. 

A low hum formed in your throat as you sank around his cock, your slick arousal exposing how badly you needed him. Regardless, you remained focused on the task at hand. You hovered around his tip rather than allow your weight to pull you downward around Sebastian entirely. Your hips rose and dipped until you were moaning at the sensation of his tip dragging against the spot that made your toes curl.

Sebastian’s eyes seemed to scream for relief but when you studied them, he didn’t blink. Your control of your husband made you giddy. But while you wanted nothing more than to prolong this, you needed your release. Finally, you allowed yourself to accommodate him fully, his cock spearing your innermost core. Your walls were already threatening to quiver as you began to bounce. His cock poked and prodded the swollen pressure inside of you until your moans echoed off the office walls. 

Below you, Sebastian’s fragmented breaths competed with the sounds of your slapping skin. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whined as you rocked with more fervor, desperate to snap the cord tightening inside you. It strained until it severed, your tension breaking in the form of sharp spasms that made your legs quake. You issued a guttural wail as your walls pulsed with pleasure.

When it subsided, you were left gasping for breath, your hands supporting your weight against Sebastian’s chest. His eyes were squeezed shut. When they cracked open, you smiled at him innocently. 

You eased yourself upward with slow deliberation to provide Sebastian with a view of your soaked entrance as if you were about to rise to your feet. You locked eyes with him again and winked.

“What’s wrong?” You feigned confusion as Sebastian’s eyes shifted. “Did you think I was done? Oh Seb, how very ignorant of you.”

You chuckled and leaned backward this time as you rode him with your hands resting atop his knees to offer him a better view of the union happening between your hips. The angle nearly made you cry out, still sensitive as the anterior wall of your cunt glided against Sebastian’s tip. When it still wasn’t enough, you lifted yourself onto your feet, your knees falling wide open as you rose and dipped around his cock.

“Do you like what you see?” you taunted, panting as you continued to roll your hips, your arms locked at the elbows to support your upper body weight. Sebastian’s legs remained rigid beneath you. Your breasts jiggled with every movement and Sebastian’s eyes darted around as if they were overwhelmed by the vision that had unfolded above him. The obscene view was only rivaled by the crude sounds of his cock pounding your wet cunt.

“Oh god.” You bounced until your thighs burned and arms shook as they supported you, your own eyes falling shut as the heat inside your core began to surge up your spine again. Your hips increased their pace until you were smacking hard on top of Sebastian, whose face flushed crimson. You ground him into the floor with rough rocking motions until you were howling through an orgasm, your hips held in place until your walls stopped seizing.

You remained perched on top of Sebastian as you caught your breath, your head hazy and pulse racing. But as soon as your gaze met his, a wicked smile spread across your lips. Sebastian’s eyes were exhausted. Though he hadn’t moved a muscle, he looked as if he’d been through hell and back. But his trip wasn’t over just yet.

Finally, you crawled off of him, still on all fours as you positioned yourself above his legs. 

“Looks so painful,” you purred as you eyed his erection. “Want me to relieve it?”

Sebastian blinked so hard, a bead of sweat trickled down his temple, reminiscent of a tear. You giggled at him.

“Alright, fine,” you simpered as you dipped your head. You pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock. 

With only the tip of your tongue, you licked slowly – so slow, you could feel every ridge of Sebastian’s length. It was still slick from your previous acts, and you hummed at your own taste. You teased his tip at a tantalizing pace.

Finally, your head bobbed faster as your entire mouth engulfed him. You raked your fingernails down his chest until they pricked the tops of his thighs, sinking with slow intention while your mouth worked. Your lips dragged over his flesh with fervor until you could hear Sebastian’s breaths becoming broken sniffles. Your nails dug deeper and you moaned a series of vibrations around his cock, pulling and licking in sensual patterns until you were certain he was about to rupture.

And then, you released him with another soft pop. His eyes squeezed shut in sheer, unmitigated agony.

When you straightened up to take his cock in your hand, Sebastian sighed through his nose in relief. You traced a gentle finger over the apex, the body-bind spell preserving his erection, raw and red, aching for release.

Your fingers curled around Sebastian’s cock, your thumb tracing circles over the tip until you began to stroke him – hard. Sebastian’s watery eyes shot open at the intense friction while you pumped your hand at a fervid rate. It was tenacious and brutal, much rougher than how you typically treated your beloved husband, but you wanted this to linger in his memory for another five years, just in case he ever dared to call you anything but breathtakingly brilliant.

You stroked faster and harder until Sebastian’s nostrils were whistling with strenuous breaths. With one hand still working around his cock, you reached for your wand with the other.

“Reparifors.”

The body-bind spell fell and Sebastian’s entire body seized. His chest heaved upward as he gasped for breath, his legs kicking against the floor. He let out a carnal cry, his back arching off the floor as his cock erupted, twitching in your hand as it spurted his grand release in hot ropes across his own stomach. It left him a wheezing and whining mess of a man, sprawled out across the floor like a ruined ragdoll.

You, however, were drunk on power. All the ancient magic in the world couldn’t match this feeling as you batted your lashes innocently at your listless husband.

“Alright, love?” you asked with faux concern, your tone laced with saccharine sincerity.

Sebastian, whose hair was now plastered to his sweat-soaked face, glared at you with subdued eyes. He was still catching his breath, his body now limp and lifeless. 

You smirked at him with absolute elation as you leaned over him, your eyes staring deep into his to emphasize your point.

“Sorry, darling,” you breathed quietly. “Guess you shouldn’t have been so ignorant.”

[rotthepoet]

˙ ✩°˖masterlist ⋆｡˚꩜

Requests are open!

Legend

*= NSFW

Harry Potter

Who I write for CURRENTLY: Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire, Sebastian Sallow, Ominis Gaunt, Micheal Corner(you should ask about the Ravenclaw boys, hint hint)

CURRENT WIPS:

Stalker!Blaise

Invisible String Theory (pt. 5)

Italy trip with BSF!Theo(officially dating)

˙ ✩°˖⋆｡˚꩜˙ ✩°˖⋆｡˚꩜˙ ✩°˖⋆｡˚꩜

★ Series ★ 

Invisible String Theory ( 1. )( 2. ) ( 3. )( 4. )

★ Theodore Nott★ 

Gaslight Lamp Post

Theo Nott and The Late Night Smoke Breaks

Secretly hooking up with FWB!Theo* Pt.2* Pt.3*

High!Theo rambles* cont.

Touch starved*

The morning after*

Stop moving away!*

Calling Theo Teddy* pt. 2

Teasing Theo all Week

BSF! Theo helping after a date

★ Draco Malfoy★ 

Draco Malfoy and a Gift Giving Girlfriend

Demanding Malfoy?*

Draco's a sub*

Draco has a small dick*

Blaise just wants to "study"

★ Mattheo Riddle★ 

COME HOME(Dark!Matty)

Mattheo Riddle and Choking* cont*

Fight

I yearn for dark mattheo*(If you check reblogs theres more content ;)

MOre dark!mattheo*

Lazy sex with mattheo*

Choking Matty*

Pool Party*

Going to bed angry*

Cooking*

Being chased by dark!matty*

Flowers for You

Dark!Matty finding you pt.2*

Stalker! Matty pt.2

Matty takes you on the "worst date ever"

★ Blaise Zabini★

Stalker!Blaise*

★ Lorenzo Berkshire★ 

Rival!Lorenzo when he finds you crying in the bathroom

Brothers Bsf!Lorenzo* Pt.2*

Lorenzo is a bitch and I stand by that* Pt.2 Pt.3

Fwb!lorenzo feeding your oral fixation*

fwb!lorenzo owns your feelings lmao

Lorenzo loves you<3

Arranged Marriage

Reverse cowgirl with enzo whilst he grabs your ass*

Cockwarming Lorenzo* Pt.2*

PEGGING LORENZO*

Enemy!Lorenzo helping you*

No touch game*

LORENZO KISSES YOUR BOOBS BEFORE BED*

Enemy!Lorenzo after you fake amnesia

Getting you a vibe*

Lorenzo wants you sobbing in his dick*

Chasity cage*

Brain Rot

Licking your tears away

Dark!Lorenzo(M!Reader)

Lorenzo vs. The IT girl

★ Micheal Corner★ 

Fucking you on the motorcycle*

He paints your nudes*

★ Slytherin Boys Misc/multi★ 

Theo/Enzo threesome ramble* Fic* Aftercare

Theo and Enzo headcanons*

Theo Sharing you*

Lorenzo and mattheo both do this I swear and maybe draco too(headcanons)

69 with the slytherin boys*

Orgy mirror pics*

Buying you a vibe*

Creaming their pants*

Enzo/Matt threesome (M!Reader)

★ Ravenclaw Boys Misc/multi★

Micheal Corner and Terry Boot

[deadghosy]

𝐒𝐥𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 2

Harry Potter & Hogwarts legacy included

(Ordered by post date.)

HARRY POTTER

Platonic!Mattheo x fem!reader hcs

Slytherin boys meeting ftm!reader

Fear||Mattheo Riddle x vampire!reader

Reacting to reader scared of spiders

Banners they would have towards their enemies

Reacting to their girlfriend having scars

Green||any Slytherin boy imagine

Brat!Enzo headcannons

Tom x fem!bsf reader headcannons

Late nights with mattheo riddle

Late nights with Theodore nott

Brat!Mattheo headcannons

Mattheo with a friend that’s cunty

Tangerine||Roommate!Theodore Nott

Slytherin boys with a hufflepuff!reader

Brat!Theodore headcannons

How they think about vitiligo!reader

Theodore with a male s/o

Pink colada||Lorezno x mermaid!reader

Slytherin boys with a sassy!reader

With an adhd!gf

Love witch/wizard!reader

With a plus sized!reader

Who can handle spicy food

Comforting reader who’s parents are divorcing

Reacting to black fem!reader doing hair wash day

Puppy!mattheo x reader headcannons

Sub!mattheo x reader headcannons

Slytherin boys react to an animagus!reader

Reacting to m!reader wearing a compression shirt

Reader who hates loud noises

Weasley!reader in slytherin

Reacting to you being missing

With a prophet!reader

Talking about marriage

Childhood friends to lovers w/Draco

When they meet their favorite author

HOGWARTS LEGACY

Ominis with a male lover

Ominis & Sebastian with a blind!reader

Platonic sliver trio with m!reader hcs

SIBLING!READER

Sibling with adhd

Little brother going to Hogwarts || Little sister going to Hogwarts

Snake||sibling!Tom & Mattheo

Being the little sister of Tom and Mattheo Riddle headcannons

Curses||Big brother!Mattheo

Strawberry picking with older brother!lorezno

[theladyofshalott1989]

Okay, I have something in mind and feel free to alter, remove, add - etc to make yourself feel happy with it :)

plot: I was thinking male MC (reader, house neutral although not slytherin due to the following) sneaking into the slytherin common room with an invisibility potion (thank Garreth) while slytherin house is out partying, to steal something of sebastians (being rivals). what he didn’t realise however was that sebastian had gotten detention and couldn’t go to the party, making him and ominis enter the common room while he was still inside - and because garreth isn’t the BEST at potions, the time duration of that potion wasn’t as long as they’d hoped..

he gets caught by sebastian and ominis and the two interrogates him and it ultimately ends up in a threesome (if you’re fine with that, otherwise ominis can leave lol) with elements of overstim and sub reader if that’s your thing?

thank you! have a great day pls, everybody deserves a great day :)

Your wish is my command, Anon! 💚

"Trouble on My Left, Trouble on My Right"

Sebastian Sallow/Male Reader & Ominis Gaunt/Male Reader

Synopsis: You came for what was his. Instead, you found yourself between what’s theirs. (Or: in and out, leave no trace? Perhaps, but not exactly in the way you had planned.)

Rating: Explicit‼️

Tags: POV Second Person, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Top Sebastian Sallow, Top Ominis Gaunt, Sassy Ominis Gaunt, Jealous Sebastian Sallow, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Sexual Overstimulation, Banter, Possessive Behavior, Submission, Voyeurism, Male Reader-Insert

Word Count: 2,300

[ AO3 Link ]

Fun Fact (minor spoiler): The concept of a teddy bear wasn't actually invented until 1902, hence my not referring to Sebastian's bear with that verbiage. (Yes, I did Google it. The things I do for explicit one-shots! Haha.) Also, who knew that the teddy bear was named after American President Theodore ("Teddy") Roosevelt? I certainly didn't!

You hadn't seen this coming. Two Slytherins, completely at your mercy. Although... maybe it was the other way around.

One lounged across the bed, generous cock out, fingers drumming impatiently upon the dark green duvet. The other pressed against the wall, your mouth attending ferociously to his cock. 

Yes, this was definitely unexpected.

You'd started out the evening with something quite different in mind. A simple heist, of sorts.

Steal the one possession Sebastian Sallow, your ever-infuriating, but also decidedly attractive, deliciously addictive, annoyingly perfect—Merlin did you hate admitting it, even if only in your head—rival, would actually miss. The one possession that, if taken, might truly rattle him.

His stuffed bear. 

Or so Anne claimed. Anne, who despite everything, hadn't lost her taste for mischief. Anne, who might've let that secret slip a little too easily, perhaps because of a tiny, ill-timed crush. Shame you didn't find the womanly form, for want of a better word, all that spellbinding. Not that it mattered tonight.

At least you'd thought.

"Why does he get all the attention?" Sebastian whinged, his chocolate brown eyes glinting in the warm flicker of the gas lamp resting on the nightstand to his right. Even Sebastian's whining held a certain sort of allure—damn him! Damn him to Azkaban and back! Not literally, obviously. 

Ominis released a long-suffering sigh. The kind of sigh that could fill the entire castle and still not hold all his exasperation. Sebastian's mid-pleasure interruption was probably more than just a habit. It was probably more like a ritual. Presumably, of course, although it made a certain sort of sense. 

"Because some of us know how to wait our turn," you muttered, a difficult feat since your mouth was still stuffed full of Ominis's cock. Whether anyone actually understood you was debatable. 

Apparently someone did, because Sebastian shot back, "Wait my turn? Darling, I don't wait for anyone. I take what I want."

Darling, hm? 

You very much wanted to ignore him, but when it came to Sebastian, that was difficult, nigh on impossible even. Ominis would have to wait, at least for a moment or two. With a soft pop, you pulled away from him. He sighed again, clearly unamused, as you settled back on your haunches. 

"I don't see you making a move, Seb," you drawled. "What happened to that relentless determination, that cockiness?" You waggled your eyebrows. 

Sebastian was moving now, stalking forward, dropping low to seize your shoulders, hard enough to bruise. As he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, he mouthed, "Don't start," then caught your right earlobe between his teeth in a quick, sharp nip. You gasped, knees buckling beneath you. Good thing he was holding you up, not so much supporting you as imprisoning you, shackling you in place. 

Oh how the tables had turned.

No more than half an hour ago, you'd slipped into this very room unnoticed, practically radiating smug satisfaction. Garreth's potion had worked like a charm, quite literally, although it wasn't an invisibility charm, but a subtler kind of vanishing act. An "ignore me if you see me" effect, as he'd put it. He called it his Wallflower Potion. 

You had to hand it to Garreth. No one could say he wasn't clever. Just not always reliably so, which had soon become painfully clear. ('The potion will last a full hour,'—your arse.)

Still, to be fair, not everything could be blamed on his half-baked potion. 

In hindsight, you probably should've done your due diligence. Sebastian was hardly a model student, after all. He was too much of a rakish cad for that. And while the rest of Slytherin House was off at the Three Broomsticks, celebrating the completion of their N.E.W.T.s, downing butterbeers and dancing like there was no tomorrow, Sebastian had been serving detention, with Ominis, of all people. 

Or so you'd overheard as they'd wandered through the door. Sebastian, of course, was the one muttering about it, clearly quite put out, the extrovert that he was.

You briefly considered how Ominis and Sebastian had both ended up in detention, together, but you didn't have much time to mull it over, for you were mere seconds away from being caught bear-handed by the devil himself, flanked by his angelic—ignoring his heritage, that is—blind shadow. 

Surprise!

So, how had you ended up here? Here, now, with Sebastian shoving you against his bed, ass up, conjuring only the smallest daub of lubrication, too quick to entirely cloak your entrance but just enough that it wouldn't be horribly painful when he—"Ah!"—shoved his cock inside you. It didn't take long before you'd adjusted to the firm pressure of him and were shouting out, "Merlin, yes!", making it all too clear that you wanted this. That you had wanted this since you ever met him. Had he wanted it too? 

Huh. And here you thought he only saw you as an irritating schoolmate to best in various subjects: Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, dueling, spider obliteration, just to name a few. 

Perhaps you were wrong. Perhaps you had been wrong all along.

Ominis hissed a choice curse or two from behind the two of you, apparently none too pleased that Sebastian had pulled you away for such an, allegedly, time-consuming act. Sebastian was too busy thrusting to pay him any mind, grunting with each earth-shattering movement, the bed creaking in reply. 

Speaking of busyness, you were too busy trying to breathe, bracing yourself as his cock traveled deep, deep, deeper inside you, so deep it was punishing; Sebastian was hammering away at you like his very life depended on it. It was a bit ridiculous to be totally honest, but you didn't have any complaints. Why would you? Sebastian's determined resolve was far too stimulating to allow any other thought, not even of the unwelcome variety. Far too stimulating and then some. 

Sebastian's cock made its last triumphant hurrah. He moaned, a helpless sound, so unlike him that it made your heart leap into your throat, but then warmth flooded your insides, pooled inside you, and you lost all sense of time and place…  

Until Sebastian released himself and collapsed on his side, pulling you along with him. 

For the briefest moment, Sebastian had been part of you, as one with you as anyone could possibly be—physically, that is—and then, faster than a reluctantly cast Crucio, it had ended, his cum dripping out of you and soaking into the bedsheets. 

But it wasn't over. No, not yet. Ominis made certain of that.

He conjured two hand towels and tossed them. Both towels somehow landed squarely on your bare stomachs, slick with sweat, still heaving as you both tried to recover your breath. 

"Clean yourselves up," he said. 

Sebastian didn't budge, but he did manage to shoot back, "Not even a 'please'?" 

"I'm saving my 'pleases' for people who actually listen. Like him," he added, nodding toward you as you sat up, already doing as Ominis commanded. 

In all honesty, it hadn't quite been a conscious choice. When it came to anything of a sexual nature, obedience seemed etched into your very bones. Odd, sure, what with everything you'd managed to achieve at Hogwarts in the short time you'd attended, but true. 

Deed done, you rose, a bit unsteadily, to your feet. Ominis took your hands, gave them a firm squeeze, and led you to his side of the room, which was far less chaotic, his bed still immaculate, not a wrinkle in sight. That wouldn't last long though. He pushed you onto it, clambered atop you, and brought his mouth to yours, all but devouring you. 

You could hear Sebastian puttering around in the corner, then… silence. You were too lost in Ominis to glance Sebastian's way, but some part of you hoped he was watching.

There was a fleeting moment where it all felt too good, too exhilarating, too much, to be real, like your body had moved faster than your sense of disbelief. You hadn't even wanted to kiss Ominis until he'd been the one to confront you first about sneaking into their room, until he'd been the one to demand answers with that quiet, dangerous focus of his. 

"Explain yourself," he'd said, his voice taut. 

You'd flinched, though, rather inconveniently, your trousers had gone tight at the exact same moment. "I—well, erm—" you'd stammered, your grip stiffening around the stuffed bear you were hiding behind your back.

"You're stammering. And you're hard. Interesting combination."

By Jove! How in Merlin's name did he know? you'd thought, your mind racing through all the potential possibilities. Was Ominis's wand really as sentient as Sebastian had explained in your fifth year? 

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, his eyes locking on you, traveling down to the offending body part. He smirked. Typical. "Subtle, very subtle," he teased. 

In hindsight, it made perfect sense that their interrogation—if it could even be called that—had such an effect on you. Confrontation was a rare occurrence for you these days. Most people steered clear, well aware that you were far more powerful than the average wizard.

But then again, most people weren't Sebastian Sallow or Ominis Gaunt. Clearly.

You dropped Sebastian's bear quietly behind you, praying they hadn't noticed, then stepped forward, toward Sebastian, a question in your eyes. Sebastian tilted his head, murmured, "Alright then," and just like that, the whole encounter had begun.

Now, back in the present, Ominis freed your lips from captivity, and your mouth hurried to his cock. Likewise, his large but slender hands made their steady way to you, settling on the shaft of yours. The two of you attended to each other—Ominis was, unsurprisingly, more generous than Sebastian—moving in tandem, his touch insistent, but also somehow gentler. You climaxed in unison: Ominis's pleasure quiet and controlled, yours loud and guttural. Sebastian had apparently joined in as well, for mere moments later, you heard him moan, low, nearly a growl, sounding like the bear of a young man that he was.

The bear! 

You tensed at the thought of it. You still wanted to claim Sebastian's most beloved possession—needed to, really, maybe even more so now than before, especially after Sebastian—and Ominis!—had claimed you in their own way. That had been the whole point of this grand escapade, hadn't it? 

"Now that that's done," Sebastian said, yanking you back to your senses. "Why were you in our room again?" 

You met his gaze, a wicked glint in your eyes. "Who says I wasn't here to do exactly what we just accomplished?"

Sebastian barked out a laugh. He turned to Ominis, who was sitting to your left beside you, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"Well, whatever the reason," Sebastian said, waving his hand casually in the air, "you've certainly earned the right to return, should you feel inclined."

"Noted."

"But next time," Ominis piped in, "a little notice wouldn't hurt. Perhaps an owl, for formality's sake."

You leaned back, letting out a slow breath. "I'll consider it." You rose to your feet and glanced around for your scattered clothing.

As Sebastian and Ominis did the same, you smiled upon observing that your off-white shirt had—miracle of miracles!—ended up draped over Sebastian's bear. You slipped it on last, the fabric cool against your skin, and tucked the bear carefully behind your back. You backed toward the door, ever so cautious, hoping that your two Slytherins were too distracted to find your movement suspicious.

But just as your hand closed around the doorknob, Sebastian spoke. "You're hiding something."

You froze.

Ominis didn't even pause the careful fastening of the last button on his shirt. "It's Sebastian's bear, isn't it?"

Damn! How?  

You offered your best attempt at wide-eyed innocence. "What bear?"

Sebastian's eyes narrowed. "My bear, hm?" Well, at least he didn't seem too angry.

You shrugged, backing up another step. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Funny," Ominis said, stepping past you to open the door himself. As he did, his hand brushed against the concealed lump beneath your shirt. "Lying now, hm? After everything we did for you?" 

You sighed dramatically and tugged at your shirt, revealing just enough of the bear's ear to prove your guilt... to Sebastian at least, maybe even to Ominis, for all you knew. You were severely doubting now that he was actually blind. Perhaps he had been pulling a long con the past three years. You wouldn't put it past him.

"Fine," you said through a pout. "You caught me out. You win." But you didn't make a move to return the bear.

Sebastian laughed, then, to your complete and utter shock, waved you off.

"Keep my bear warm, then," he said. 

You blinked. "I intend to." You took a hesitant backwards step over the threshold, still not quite certain if he was being serious. 

You took another, and another, until you realized Sebastian had been serious. He wasn't stopping you. You still picked up your pace. Just in case. 

Ominis's voice trailed after you. "Send that owl next time, won't you?"

You paused, glanced back at the two of them, hair tousled, cheeks flushed, entirely too pleased with themselves—and with you.

"Don't worry," you said with a grin. "Next time, you'll know when I'm coming." 

Were you being entirely truthful? Perhaps, but also, perhaps not. That was up to you to decide. 

And with that, you disappeared down the corridor, stolen bear tucked under your arm, a dozen more dangerous ideas already forming in that brilliant mind of yours.

The door closed behind you with a soft click.

This particular adventure was over. But the game?

It was only just beginning.

[libellule-ao3]

Venom & Velvet 🔞

She didn’t think her birthday mattered. He took it as a personal offence. So no cake, no candles. Just Ominis, velvet, and a few bites from a serpent that’s anything but natural. Happy birthday, Evelyne!

Ominis Gaunt x Evelyne Lavandin (#Evinis) | NSFW | 6 700 words

Rating: 🔞

⚠️/tags : Established Relationship | Birthday Sex | Self-Worth Issues | Light Dom/sub | Multiple Orgasms | Overstimulation | bites | Aphrodisiacs | Breath play | Magical serpent involved in sexual scene.

A/N : 1/This OS was written based on a suggestion from @amberlide 💚

2/This OS was published on 25 November 2024 before being made private 3 days later. In fact, I realised too late that I wasn't happy with it. 😅 So I reworked it. I hope you like it.

Also available on AO3.

With every sigh Evelyne lets out, the shears creak, slicing through the thick stems of the climbing plant with stubborn regularity. Today is her birthday, and no one knows.

Not even Ominis, kept away from Marlborough for several days now on official Ministry business. When he told her he had to leave, the witch hadn’t dared to say anything. How could she have?

After all, she didn’t even know whether the date was worth mentioning. It wasn’t her real birthday, just a date assigned at random, when she was officially granted British citizenship in her fourth year at Hogwarts.

“You’ll need a date of birth for the paperwork,” the Ministry clerk had told her.

They let her choose one, but she had remained speechless, unable to decide which day could hold such significance.

Perhaps the day Professor Mirabel Garlick had broken her chains, dragging her out of Foley and Briar’s cellar and into Hogwarts?

Alas, neither of them could be certain of the exact date, so the witch had chosen the 30th of October at random, with one chance in 365 that it might be the right one.

She had never experienced a birthday before. A day to celebrate her arrival in the world? It was a strange idea, almost absurd.

Torn from her family by heartless Muggles, she had spent her childhood under the yoke of their greed, her magic exploited, her body and mind abused and degraded. Each day had been an endless stream of commands and punishments, and no one had ever wished her a happy birthday; no one had ever considered her worthy of celebration. She had never tasted cake, had never even made a wish while blowing out the flame of a candle. What was the point in dreaming of such luxuries, when the height of happiness had been a piece of fresh bread in her broth?

So how dare she feel disappointed today?

It almost makes her angry with herself. She knows full well Ominis would have done everything in his power for her had he known. But she had kept it to herself.

Because she didn’t want to disrupt his schedule… Or perhaps because she didn’t believe she deserved that kind of attention.

And yet, in the deepest recesses of her mind, there was only one desire: him, here, wrapping her in that unwavering tenderness that was so uniquely his.

This morning, Mirabel Garlick —her saviour, her mentor, almost a mother— had thought of her. A modest card, filled with warmth, had brightened her heart and, cruelly, underscored her profound loneliness.

After leaving school, Evelyne had devoted her life to this botanical garden project, driven as much by passion as by the need for financial independence, especially as a woman with no family support. It had distanced her somewhat from her friend Imelda, now chasing her dreams across every Quidditch pitch in the country.

Her current freedom, envied by many of her peers, ought to have been enough to make her happy. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself. But with every snip of the shears, sorrow soaked into her thoughts like the scent of sap in the humid air of the greenhouse, making her clumsy, less precise.

What’s the point of longing for something she’s never had?

She sighs. Perhaps that’s all the day will bring: her work, and the quiet frustration of yearning for something she’ll never dare ask for.

Suddenly, a hiss cuts through the calm of the greenhouse. Motionless, her movements suspended, Evelyne searches for the source of the unsettling noise. A long silhouette glides across the worktable, weaving between the terracotta pots, scattered leaves, tangled vines and soil. The oily gleam of its pitch-black scales, almost unreal, reflects in the diffused light. The young woman freezes.

This creature looks dangerous. Perhaps even venomous.

It moves with a slow, perverse elegance. Its forked tongue flicks at the air, tasting the humidity, as though it’s searching for something… or someone! The world seems to close in on her. The witch barely breathes.

Don’t move!

Don’t run!

Don’t provoke it!

The serpent stops, lifting its head, and its grey-blue eyes — gleaming, impenetrable — fix on her.

Where did it come from?

It isn’t one of those Ominis had coaxed into ridding the greenhouse of pests, despite his reluctance to use Parseltongue. No, this one radiates something oddly supernatural.

Can she draw her wand and cast stupefy before it strikes?

A bead of sweat rolls down her temple, then her cheek… And just as the tension threatens to snap, a familiar voice, refined and piercing, slices through the air.

"Stay calm, my love, and don’t move."

Her heart skips a beat.

Ominis?!

Impossible. With the utmost care, Evelyne casts a cautious glance over her shoulder. He is there. Her lover. He exudes an aura of bruised tenderness, restrained desire, and an underlying menace, more volatile.

Why does he seem so distraught?

"What are you doing here?" she asks, eyes darting back to the reptile.

Her tone is barely a whisper, muffled by the shock of seeing him, the bitter-sweet apprehension, and the fear stirred by that damned serpent still staring at her with its unwavering gaze. All her senses are heightened. She hears Ominis’s footsteps murmuring over the moss-covered bricks behind her, and the delicious woody-amber notes of his scent fill her lungs.

"Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday today?"

The honey of his voice, suave and controlled, evokes the deceitful nectar of a carnivorous plant, sweet in appearance, meant to ensnare. Evelyne, who has spent years decoding his subtleties, senses without effort the reproach nestled beneath that chiselled nobility, like a poisonous bloom.

"I, uh, I didn’t think it was… that important."

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak for long seconds, and yet the intensity of his presence seems to engulf her. She suddenly wishes she could curl up in a gnome-hole.

"You know, I ran into Mirabel Garlick last week on Diagon Alley, near the Gemarvel jewellers—"

Ominis pauses, leaning closer to her ear.

"Imagine my surprise when she assumed I was shopping for your gift... Why did you hide it from me?" he insists, his tone sharp, though his warm breath grazes the scar on her neck, a lingering mark of a childhood that mirrors his own.

He’s known it for seven days?

"Do you enjoy making me look like a fool?"

What?

"Or... is it simply that you didn’t want me here to celebrate with you?"

The idea is so absurd she could almost laugh if only he didn’t speak in the tone of an Auror already convinced of the suspect’s guilt.

"Of course not! I wanted you here today!" she protests, prompting an angry hiss from the serpent. She lowers her voice. "It’s just that, er, I didn’t dare, I-I didn’t want to trouble you with something so trivial, or make you feel obliged to do anything."

He presses her back against the workbench, not roughly, but with the noble authority that has always been his.

"Trivial?" he repeats, scandalised. Worse than if she’d insulted him.

Oh, Merlin, he’s so close!

Her hands tremble, a mix of adrenaline and anticipation. Her lover is as furious as he is tempting, and Evelyne... desperately needs to be forgiven.

"You didn’t think I’d want to be here for you today?"

She closes her eyes, ashamed.

"I–I don’t know. I’m not used to it, you know."

She wasn’t used to mattering to anyone, not even to him, even if he had always shown a desire to support her. The silence that follows is icy.

Then, with a firm and measured gesture, Ominis takes hold of her bun, grips her hair, and pulls back. Her neck yields under the pressure, her breath catches, and her heart races.

The fixed facets of his blind gaze pierce hers, searching her soul, offering in return his unshakeable expression. The tension crackles, like a storm threatening to break. Then he releases her hair.

"Offer your hand to your new friend."

Evelyne’s blood turns to ice. Her panicked eyes dart to the serpent.

Excuse me?!!

Her instincts scream, her muscles tense. Every part of her rebels. But that’s precisely what Ominis is watching for: that moment when she wrestles with herself, when her obedience is born, not from a conditioned reflex, but from conscious surrender.

She would’ve preferred him taking her, dominating her, as he had so many times before. Meeting his demands that way, she knew how to do that.

But this?

Until now, she has never regretted initiating sex with Ominis. She has always encouraged him to draw on his darker instincts, offering him the space to express his need for control, free from the toxic shadow of the Gaunts, no matter how rough it got.

But now… she hesitates.

What he asks of her this time has nothing to do with their usual games. He had never confronted her with one of those dangerous, unpredictable creatures to which the Gaunts share such a dark affinity.

"I need to know… is it... venomous?" she asks, voice trembling.

She feels the wintry smile of her lover brush against the rune carved on the side of her neck. It’s no comfort; there are too many buried reproaches. Pure possessiveness.

“And what difference would that make?”

His words hiss beside her ear, thick with venom.

“If you doubt my affection, my desire to please you, if you still question what you mean to me—” He pauses, his teeth sinking sharply into her earlobe — ow! — “Why would you believe I’d protect you?”

In truth, his utterances bite deeper than his teeth. And in that instant, Evelyne understands.

She has hurt him.

By hiding her birthday, she made him believe she didn’t trust him, that she didn’t believe enough in his feelings to imagine he’d want to be there for her.

She had humiliated him, without even meaning to. And now, words are useless. He demands reparation through an act of faith in him. Through total surrender.

Her gaze remains locked on the motionless serpent, which nevertheless radiates a silent power that sets her heart pounding to the point of nausea. She wants to flee, like the little grass snake he always claimed she was — rightly so, as her Patronus proves — slipping into the shadows before the danger closes in.

She could end this. One word would suffice.

Withered.

They vowed never to violate this word and it rests on the tip of her tongue, ready to save her… and yet she swallows it, and reaches out her hand.

Her trembling fingers hesitate. Her breath catches… and at last, she touches it. The serpent’s skin is cold, smooth, oily. A shudder runs down her spine.

Ominis hisses in Parseltongue, a sinister, almost sensual sound that slips into her ears like a deadly caress.

And the serpent… moves.

It tastes her palm with its forked tongue, then begins to climb, slowly, coiling around her wrist, slipping beneath her sleeve with perverse confidence.

Every fibre of her being screams.

Her instinct urges her to pull away, to cast off this cursed creature, to unleash her magic and drive it away at once. But she remains still, breathless, caught between panic and trust.

Because Ominis is behind her, murmuring encouragements, his firm hand on her hip anchoring her to this incongruous moment where fear becomes desire, and danger, a trial to overcome. The heat of his chest against her back, the chill of the serpent on her skin… the contrast drives her mad. All her hairs stand on end. She wants to resist, but something in her tightens, tighter, tighter… until it nearly breaks.

A spark ignites in her belly.

Then a rain of damp kisses falls on her temple, her cheek, her neck. Lingering. Controlled. Slow.

Each one a thread winding around her will, binding her to him, inescapably.

“O-Ominis, what are you doing?”

She wants to know his intentions. Or rather, she already does; she just needs to hear them. His touch glides over her throat, fingers tracing the frantic pulse beneath her skin.

“Well, since you leave me no choice, I’m going to force you to accept everything I burn to give you.”

His hand wanders, caressing her curves, lingering on her breast, which he claims with authority, his fingers teasing the nipple through the thin fabric. He even scolds her for the scandalous absence of a corset — which does, however, make his access easier — with that delicious aristocratic irony he wields like a duellist brandishing a wand.

Evelyne gasps, caught between the shock of the situation and the overpowering sensations overwhelming her.

The snake continues its slow ascent, sliding over her collarbone, undulating against her bare skin, every movement sparking another wave of shivers.

Ominis presses against her, and she feels the full measure of his arousal, hard and ravenous, nudging her backside. Meanwhile, his hands remove the pins from her hair one by one, with exasperating patience.The reptile lifts its head, jewel-like eyes fixed on her mouth. It hisses.

Frozen, she dares not breathe. And when its tongue flicks out to taste her lips with almost human insolence, Evelyne stays perfectly still.

Rigid as a statue. Alive as a flame.

“He says he finds your warmth irresistible…”

She reels inside. Merlin, those words shouldn’t make her blush like this.

“He’s curious to know whether you’re just as pleasing on the inside.”

What?

Horrified by the implication, she clenches her lips. In fact, she clenches her thighs and her backside, determined to bar all entry. Ominis tilts his head, his refined voice laced with dark humour.

“You’ve gone rather tense suddenly… Almost as impenetrable as a Gringotts vault. What are you thinking, my little grass snake?”

Evelyne says nothing. She cannot, because the serpent’s tongue is outlining her Cupid’s bow, then the seam of her tightly pressed lips with indecent slowness.

At the same time, the last pin drops and her hair falls in silky waves over her shoulders.

Now the reptile slinks along her collarbone, and in a shiver born no longer only of fear, she feels its head nestle in her cleavage.

She has lost all control. Her breath, her skin, her very body no longer belong to her. Everything responds to his will.

The snake, looped around her neck like a living necklace, nestles against her chest. Its head writhes in the valley between her breasts, lifting the silk of her blouse as it moves, exposing her skin to the warmth of the greenhouse and the icy roughness of its scales.

Of course, she wants to flee this infernal caress, but her lover’s body traps her against the workbench. With his free hand, he undoes the fastening of her skirt and slips into her drawers with the ease of a man who already owns every inch of her body.

The serpent glides across her flesh, tracing cold, stinging patterns. Ominis’s fingers part the folds and greet her pearl as one touches a forbidden treasure. Evelyne moans, her throat bared, her body yielding… and then the bite comes.

Violent. Precise. Devastating.

She muffles a cry in her fist as the venom pulses into her veins, carried by the frantic beating of her terrified heart.

Strangely, it doesn’t hurt. It’s a different kind of poison, one that awakens her nerves, soaks her thighs, and turns the faintest touch into an inferno.

It races through her, more intimate than a tongue kiss, more indecent than a finger slipping into her tightest ring of flesh.

“What did you do to me?” she cries out, unable to hide either the panic rising in her chest… or the wave of pleasure rippling through her.

Her fingers clutch his wrist, as if she could somehow save herself, but it’s too late. The venom is already everywhere.

Is it… an aphrodisiac?

Her nipples harden beneath her bodice, her inner walls contract around nothing, desperate and aching.

“You need to understand something. You belong to me. So I refuse to stand by and watch you cling to the absurd notion that you mean nothing to me.”

His digits rub her swollen bud with cruel precision, each stroke calculated to drive her closer to the brink without letting her fall.

“Is that what you need, my love? To be claimed so thoroughly you can’t doubt it anymore?”

She agrees with a whimper, without the slightest hint of modesty, and Ominis drinks in every sound with almost cruel satisfaction.

The serpent is still there, heavy on her shoulders and chest, its scales dragging against her fevered skin. Her body yields to her lover, her hips now seeking rhythm, friction, release. And he… that devil in tailored robes, gives her just enough to make her ache for more, just enough to drown her in need. It’s unbearable!

Then a new sensation: the serpent’s forked tongue, insistent, against her nipple.

Pleasure, horror, shock, everything blurs. And in that chaos, she sees it: a silhouette behind the glass. Someone is there! Far too close.

“Ominis… my staff!”

No one must see them in such a compromising situation! If Manigoldo Gaunt discovers that his youngest son is sabotaging every arranged marriage meeting because he has a mistress… Evelyne wouldn’t live long enough to regret it!

But he doesn’t hear her. Or rather, he chooses not to.

Even as she tries to hold back his arm, his fingers continue their perverse dance, teasing, pressing, tormenting her clit, stoking her impatience.

“Oh, I didn’t realise you wanted an audience.”

His tone is insolent.

“No!” she exclaims, redder than a poppy. “It’s precisely because they, unlike you, can enjoy the view that it bothers me!”

In response, he pinches her clit with a precision bordering on bloody punishment! She screams into her fist, her legs shaking as he already calms her with tender brushes.

“Attacking my blindness now? Didn’t you know that insolence is best left to adolescence?”

The provocation in his voice, the way he keeps her trapped in this helpless state of need… It’s too much, and yet not enough. So when his hand suddenly leaves her aching core, her entire body mourns the loss.

"Colloportus."

The distinct suction sound of the locking spell echoes through the greenhouse, sealing their haven in a bubble of intimacy. Then, with a flick of his wand, Evelyne’s clothes slide from her body, falling at her feet like dead leaves in a hush of fabric. All that remains is her, trembling and bare under the dappled light, a serpent wrapped about her like a living scarf.

And when he removes his own shirt, slowly, deliberately, like one unveiling a long-guarded secret, she forgets even her own name. It is not only the aristocratic beauty he embodies so effortlessly that so captivates Evelyne. It is also a calm and decisive authority, worthy of a confident man who no longer asks permission to take the woman who belongs to him without restriction.

Letting out a sigh of admiration that draws a pleased smirk from her lover, Evelyne drinks him in, from those exquisitely expressive eyes to his proud, imperious erection. Merlin, she would gladly fall to her knees for him, lips parted, and suck him like her life depended on it.

His mouth captures hers, his kiss devouring all rational thought. Her legs give way, her will dissolves, and she clutches the workbench as if the ground were falling away beneath her.

She stops thinking. She acts. Her fingers wrap around his rock-hard length, spreading the bead of arousal pearling at its tip before closing firmly around him. Her palm strokes him, savouring each pulse.

Ominis growls against her mouth, a low, almost painful sound, and his hips jerk forward. Delighted by his response, Evelyne descends, massaging his full, taut balls with teasing fingers, relishing the tension in his thighs and the control she momentarily holds.

But the wizard never relinquishes the reins for long.

He pulls away from her lips and kisses down her throat, tracing a line of fire to her collarbone, until his mouth claims a nipple, tormenting it with that refined tongue of his, capable of issuing commands as deftly as it conjures pleasure. The serpent’s bite, still fresh on her skin, throbs in time with the mounting heat, driving her mad.

Her grip on him tightens more possessive, more desperate. She’s at her limit.

“Please… I want you so badly,” Evelyne gasps, clinging to his needy cock like a lifeline.

But he steps back. His smile is that of a man who knows she would follow him into hell.

He leads her to the old apple tree around which the greenhouse was built, summons a velvet carpet across the moss with a flick of his wand, and sits beneath the trunk like a king on his throne, legs spread, gaze commanding. With a sharp gesture, he pulls her to him. Straddling his thighs, her back to his chest, she is entirely at his mercy.

And then… he impales her on his cock in a strangled moan, every muscle taut, every nerve ready to shatter.

Her head falls against his shoulder. She feels as though she's burning from within, strung tight by the sting of pleasure.

“Oh, yes… I wasn’t meant to be here… and yet you're taking me inside you as if my cock were the only thing you truly wanted today,”

He fills her so deeply she can feel the pressure beneath her palm resting on her lower belly.

“Perhaps because you were exactly everything I hoped for,” she replies with the kind of unvarnished honesty that always unsettles him.

He slips two fingers between her lips, and she takes them eagerly into her mouth, sucking slowly, reverently. When he withdraws them, a slick thread still clings to her tongue. Without hesitation, his hand travels between her thighs, finding her slick folds and working her with maddening precision.

“I know you're dying to ride me, but don’t move,” he murmurs against her ear, his voice a blend of honey and venom. “Not until I give you permission.”

Aside from his hands, he doesn’t move either. His cock throbs inside her, anchored in the heat he’s claimed without mercy, remaining buried to the hilt as though he wants her to feel every inch, every pulse of his presence.

“Otherwise, our friend might decide to punish you.”

The snake! She’d almost forgotten.

A cold shiver ripples down her spine as the creature tightens slightly around her shoulders, its forked tongue tasting the air near her neck. She wants to move, to follow the rhythm of his fingers, to grind against him, to beg. The aphrodisiac still courses through her blood, ravaging her from the inside, and yet she forces herself to remain still, offered up, balanced on the edge of her own restraint.

The vibration of Parseltongue hums near her ear. The reptile glides along her collarbone, brushing the top of her chest in a slow, silent spiral, almost ceremonial. Its bifid tongue flicks against her skin with each ragged breath. Evelyne no longer knows whether she wants to tear it away or beg it to stay.

She trembles. From the tips of her breasts to the core of her thighs, her body is a taut string ready to snap.

And he knows it.

She welcomes, with a trace of dread, the growing pressure around her throat. Gentle at first. Then firmer. It’s not the first time Ominis has tested her trust, deepening their pleasure by taking control of her breathing but never before had he acted through a creature with its own will, no matter how attuned it is to his.

Each heartbeat pounds against her temple. Every pulse reminds her she belongs to him now, even her oxygen is no longer hers.

Meanwhile, Ominis touches her with the ruthless precision of a predator who already knows how it will end... but chooses to prolong it.It forces her to focus on her high. To think of nothing else, to forget the animal wrapped around her throat and her desperate need to breathe.

“Don’t fight it,” he whispers against her shoulder, his voice like sweet poison poured into her ear.

A shudder rakes down her spine. The air is getting thin, vision blurred, lungs burning... her whole body in a panic while her pussy begs for release.

She arches, strung tight, trembling between the contact that drives her mad and the weight that steals her breath. And then a sharp pain blooms in her upper arm. The creature bit her. Truly bit her. As punishment.

“I told you not to move without permission…”

"Please!" she screams silently in her mind.

Of course, he tests her obedience by making her languish a few seconds longer before granting her silent prayer.

“Now, be a good girl, plant your feet on the ground, and let me give you what you deserve!"

Yes! Finally!

Her body springs to life, uncontrollable. Her feet slip against the ground in an instinctive effort to find purchase, while she clutches at whatever she can to keep her balance, arched against his chest.

When he finally thrusts his hips upwards, she follows, impaling herself on him, and then they begin again —over and over—in a savage, desperate rhythm.

Pleasure overwhelms her, twists her in his arms, her cry muffled by the serpent’s ring, by the embrace of her lover, by the fire burning through her veins. Her walls clench around his pulsing cock. She’s ready to fall apart.

Then he hisses, and suddenly, air rushes back into her lungs, into every cell.

And with it, release.

She comes undone in his arms, a strangled cry caught in her throat, spasms tearing through her, breathless, heart pounding to the brink, bathed in blinding light, soaking their thighs with a translucent flood, the raw testament of her surrender.

The world stops, transcended by bliss.

And he holds her. Tightly.

“You know,” his warm breath brushes her temple, “I’m going to make you come again. And again…”

His fingers trace the bite marks on her breast and shoulder, gently.

“Until your body is saturated with ecstasy.”

Despite her vulnerability, her lips find his, feverish, hungry.

There’s no submission, no hesitation in the kiss she gives him, only a visceral declaration of her need, her feeling, all she is still willing to offer. She swallows his groans, sucks his tongue when it finds hers, slow and entrancing.

Ominis moans into her mouth, not to dominate, but to yield to the passion devouring him. The kiss deepens, needier with every second. Teeth bite.

Tongues tangle. And though she has no strength left, though her whole body protests, arching toward him, her teeth catch his lower lip in silent plea when he tries to pull away. Ominis relents to her whim, returns to her mouth with tenderness as he rolls her gently onto her side.

“I hope you enjoyed that brief reprieve,” Ominis murmurs, every word kissing her lips. “Because now, I intend to give you everything you deserve.”

Her thigh is lifted, her muscles straining to their limit. She clings to him, perfectly positioned to receive his slow, deliberate thrusts and the insidious friction of the sinuous creature gliding over her raw nerves.

Sweat beads at her nape; the wet sound of their joined bodies resounds in her ears, mingling with the obscene praise he whispers. She feels her breath quicken, her grip tighten, and his unrelenting intent to keep her anchored to him wraps around her like a second skin.

He shifts his angle subtly. A tilt forward… and she finds herself lying on her stomach. He drives into her again, deeper this time. The velvet carpet absorbs her cries but does nothing to quell the fire he stokes within her.

Orgasms are peaks no more. They are fragments of pleasure her body can no longer contain. Her limbs jerk reflexively, trying to escape… but he holds her, gently, firmly.

She no longer knows how many times. Three, maybe four. She’s lost all sense of counting, only aware of the constant tremor shaking her thighs, the searing burn between her legs, the slow friction and aphrodisiac bites of the snake wrapped around her, and the gentle and the sweet terror of being nothing more than pliant flesh.

Is she gasping or suffocating? Her body is one raw wound, her clitoris a knot of anguish and lust. Her eyes are swimming with tears. And yet he continues, relentless, methodical, as though sculpting something absolute within her.

The safe word burns her lips.

But it doesn’t come.

And he, implacable, murmurs against her ear,"How many more times, Evelyne?"

His voice is soft, almost tender. But his hips are pounding, smacking against her bottom with relentless rythm.

"How many before you can’t speak anymore? Before I reduce you to pure sensation?"

And she explodes. Again.

Her body arches in one final convulsion. Her walls clamp down on him with feral force, like a starving mouth, and she screams a hoarse, desperate cry as another orgasm crashes through her.

Her cheek collapses against the carpet, slack, her mouth parted, tears clinging to her lashes and her juices spill, dripping between her thighs, soaking the velvet.

But he doesn’t let her go.

His cock still pulses within her, hard, swollen, waiting.

From the very beginning, he has restrained himself with impressive control, determined to give her everything before allowing himself the slightest satisfaction.

She whimpers faintly, a rasp more than a voice, "Please… I-I can’t any-more."

Yet still, she welcomes him, drenched, broken, offered.

"Please… stop holding back… I want you to come too," she begs, utterly undone after her fifth – or sixth? Seventh? – climax.

He groans in response, kisses the base of her neck, bites the damp skin, grabs her breasts, which are crushed by their weight against the floor, then drives into her with greater intensity.

He buries his face in her neck, panting, his arms wrapped around her like she’s all he has left in the world as his orgasm erupts at last. Evelyne feels every pulse of his release flooding her, warm and thick, dripping slowly between her soaked folds and still, Ominis doesn’t move.

Outside, it’s raining. Raindrops drum against the glass in a gentle rhythm.

He stays buried in her. Still hard. Still him, this burning, throbbing weight, impossible to ignore.

Evelyne is gasping, her features wet with tears and sweat. Her mouth hangs open, saliva slipping from her lips. Her fingers grasp at nothing. She’s adrift. Her core still tightens in aftershocks of pleasure.

And yet…

He’s not done.

In one fluid motion, Ominis flips her onto her back. There’s deceptive tenderness in the gesture, almost a caress. She wants to protest, but only a broken moan escapes her throat.

"No, that’s enough."

Her plea sounds like the whimper of a drenched kitten. Barely audible.

"You liar. If you truly wanted me to stop, you’d know what to say. But you don't really want to, do you?" he murmurs, kissing the corner of her lips.

His fingers slide into her drooling mouth, spreading the saliva over her chin, then down to her nipples. He rises onto his knees between her trembling thighs, parts her legs marbled with pleasure, and… though blind, he seems to gaze at her like a king admiring an offering.

The serpent glides along her collarbone, coils in the hollow of her neck, its appendage tasting the salt and desire slicking her skin. Evelyne shivers, too sensitive. Too open. Too alive.

Then her lover thrusts into her again in one deep stroke. Her back arches, her breasts rising toward him, her hips opening despite themselves. She moans, mouth slack in a voiceless cry, eyes glazed.

"You are… so…" he breathes between thrusts.

He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t need to. His hands move up her knees as he dominates her, holding her open, vulnerable, exposed to every inch of his cock tearing into her with adoration.

The snake creeps down her ribs, brushing the still-red bite mark on her chest. Then suddenly, its tongue touches a nipple, the left one, still swollen, still aching with lust. Evelyne whimpers, tears rolling toward her temples.

She comes.

Her body releases, literally. A hot gush bursts from her, soaking their bellies, the moss, Ominis’s hands gripping her. She convulses beneath him, wracked by uncontrollable spasms, her parted lips murmuring incoherent words.But he doesn’t stop.

He fucks her with an unbearable intensity, each thrust ravaging her already-burning flesh, prolonging the orgasm to the edge of agony. Her clitoris, so sensitive, so swollen, is assaulted with each powerful return.

Then he, too, begins to unravel. His breath grows erratic. Air hisses between clenched teeth, almost reptilian, and he leans over her, his hand threading into her soaked hair before kissing her full on the mouth. Evelyne gives him everything, her tongue, her throat, her tiny cries, even her drool.

Her ruined body clings to his. She’s too open, too full, and yet… she holds him, welcomes him, wraps her bruised legs around him.

"Look at me, love," he whispers. “Look how good it is to be in you… how I give you everything! Ah!”

Through tear-blurred lashes, she watches him rise to his knees, glorious. He trembles, his hips slamming into her one last time, his seed spilling inside her in raw pulses.

His head falls back, his torso arches, his abdominal muscles clench under the weight of lust and she, breathless, savours it. Because he comes for her. Inside her. And she has never felt more powerful than in this moment, watching him surrender — Ominis Gaunt, a man made of restraint and control — entirely to her.

When he finally collapses on top of her, panting, Evelyne no longer knows if she’s alive or dead.

Suspended between consciousness and oblivion, the young woman watches the creature’s glistening body glide across the velvet, curling against her limp hand. Then, before her disbelieving eyes, the snake shrinks with every undulation. Reaching her digit, it coils around it, its cold texture transforming into smooth, gleaming metal. Once fully morphed, she sees a ring of black gold, perfectly fitted.

Two star sapphires, in hues reminiscent of Ominis’s eyes, crown the piece.

The wavering light of the greenhouse makes them glisten, and Evelyne can’t help but feel a hypnotic awe. The aura radiating from the ring seems alive, almost threatening, as if the serpent, even in this inert state, could still claim her.It is such a beautiful piece that any Gaunt would be proud to offer it… but far too beautiful for her.

Finally, with measured slowness, Ominis withdraws from her, a shiver running through his body as he pulls away.

The sudden coldness of his absence is almost unsettling, but it’s quickly offset by the way he gathers her into his warmth with infinite care.

One moment, he dominates and uses her.

The next, he cherishes her, wraps her in his coat as if she were a treasure far too fragile…

The contrast is devastatingly addictive.

His lips brush her temple in a silent kiss. And so Evelyne lies shattered in his arms. Her body, drained of all energy, cannot react, every movement aborted before it even begins.

She is emptied, exhausted beyond words, and Ominis strokes her sweat-dampened flanks gently, as if soothing the last tremors still coursing through her. He breathes slowly, the movement of his chest against her cheek lulling her despite herself. Her thoughts dissolve into a post-orgasmic haze... For several minutes, he says nothing, simply breathing in sync with her…

"Are you all right?"

He is no longer the self-assured master she had let bloom like a spring flower. He has become again the man of doubts, the one who needs to be sure he hasn’t broken her beyond her limits.Evelyne nods faintly, her cheek against his chest.

“I’m… I’m fine.”

Her voice is hoarse, broken, but the words are sincere. She closes her eyes, letting herself be rocked by the tender shapes Ominis draws on her back.

"Thank you…"

She doesn’t even know what she’s thanking him for: the jewel now on her finger, the fact he abandoned his obligations to be with her, or simply that he’s holding her like he never wants to let go.A vial rises from his clothes and floats to him.

"Drink. You need to regain your strength."

She obeys without question, her throat still raw, her muscles trembling. The slightly bitter taste of the restorative potion lingers on her tongue, but she doesn’t care. She closes her eyes, head resting against his chest. Ominis remains silent, lost in thought. As often, she dares not speak, simply waiting for the confidences that inevitably follow such intense coupling.

Eventually, he takes a deep breath, then slides a hand under Evelyne’s chin, gently coaxing her to raise her head toward him. His eyes seem brimming with regret, and she feels her stomach twist at the raw emotion etched on his face.

"Forgive me,"

Evelyne doesn’t understand. Forgive him for what? He’s done nothing wrong, quite the opposite.

"Not for what just happened," he says, caressing the trails of dried tears on her cheeks. "But for everything else… You’ve been in my life for years, and I never cared about your birthday."

The young woman props herself up on one elbow, ready to protest, but Ominis doesn’t let her.

"In my family, birthdays were just an excuse to throw dreadful parties I tried to avoid. As for Sebastian… he was never much for birthdays either. I imagine his uncle didn’t celebrate them much."

Evelyne feels a weight crush her chest. Was that it? Beneath what she took for humility was a wound, the same one she shares with Sebastian: being deprived of those simple joys others take for granted.

She thinks back to all those years when, thinking she was doing the right thing, she simply sent him her weekly letter on his birthday, without ever mentioning it, as though it were just any day. She thought she was respecting his space… In truth, Evelyne had completely misinterpreted the situation.

She strokes his cheek. He smiles at her touch, leaning into her palm, drawing from her all the comfort she can offer.

"But I want it to be different for you. I want you to know that, whatever happens, I want to be there to honour you… even if you won’t do it for yourself."

Ominis sits up slightly, rummaging in a pocket of the coat wrapped around them. He pulls out a small stone and holds it up for Evelyne to see.

"It’s a Portkey… For a weekend, far from everything. Just you and me."

She stays silent, her thoughts wavering between disbelief and an emotion too powerful to name. The idea that he prepared so much and imposed such discomfort on himself just to please her overwhelms her.

"Y-You didn’t have to."

His lips curl into a teasing smile as he tightens his embrace.

"I could have brought you flowers, but you’d have abandoned me too quickly to tend to them! Besides, consider this the first of many, because from now on, this day will matter."

His words, filled with promise, warm her heart more than she’d like to admit. Her lover has always known how to soothe her, how to heal her with the smallest gestures. It’s priceless.

"And I’ll make sure yours is celebrated with just as much passion as mine."

His reaction is immediate, almost comical. He freezes as an unexpected blush rises from his neck to his ears.

With a sly smile, Evelyne notes each nuance, each tension in his clenched jaw. She knows it’s not embarrassment. Not like the first time when, emboldened, she had rubbed against him during a heated kiss, begging him to take her, eliciting a delightful mix of shyness and desire, awkwardly restrained by his prim upbringing.

No, today, this flush betrays something else: it’s the reaction of a man who knows he’s ardently desired, and whose imagination has just ignited with guilty pleasure.

"You wouldn’t dare come to the Ministry to…" he breathes, horrified.

His voice trails off, but Evelyne doesn’t need him to finish. She is conscious of exactly where his thoughts have gone.

"Oh, I would, my dearest… Wherever you are…"

[marketfreshfics]

Like Rabbits | Garreth x f!MC

Header image: @newbienewness ✦ 4327 words ✦ NSFW content (MDNI), aged-up characters, unnamed female MC (no use of y/n), alcohol consumption, admission of feelings/slight proposition, masturbation, spanking, p in v, light dom/sub elements ✦ Plot? What plot? This was honest to god just an excuse to write about Garreth in a rabbit costume ✦ Read it below the cut or on AO3

Easter festivities were a rarity at Hogwarts, yet when an opportunity for revelry arose, the seventh-years seized it with unbridled enthusiasm.

For generations, a pact among students governed the hosting duties on such occasions. The house with the fewest points bore the responsibility (and, by consequence, the aftermath) of throwing the celebration. Slytherin, enduring a dismal streak, found themselves reluctantly poised to shoulder the burden once more, the third time not necessarily the charm. As the soon-to-be graduates gathered amidst their diminished house, they sampled the exotic hors d'oeuvres with subdued chatter, their ranks thin and their spirits somewhat subdued, shooing a curious first year who had risen from bed to visit the loo.

You couldn't help but notice the lacklustre effort put forth, evident in the half-hearted swirling of your drink and the telltale lines of boredom etched upon your brow. Natsai, however, who displayed a downright lackadaisical disinterest, was already poised to depart for the evening. "I do think the Slytherins should dedicate more focus to their house standings to avoid committing another crime such as this party."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips in response, prompting an eye-roll from Imelda as she fished a hair from her drink. "Blame Sallow, we’re still recovering from his little bridge stunt."

The memory evoked a ripple of amusement; the viaduct bridge, unimposing as ever one moment, became a terrifying tangle of devil’s snare that multiplied out of control, requiring several days' worth of Confringo to eradicate.

"I’ll let you know I’m still working through detention for that." Sebastian, the culprit in question, shot a wry grin as his classmates riled with snickers, much to his chagrin. "I was only practicing the Geminio charm for Ronen’s assignment! At his recommendation, mind you, I performed it outside on a plant! I swear, Professor Weasley was just trying to-"

"Did someone mention Weasley?"

Heads swivelled towards the echo of an announced arrival from the staircase, and before questions and curiosities could be posted, Garreth Weasley sauntered down the spiral steps wearing a riot of pink cotton with two lapin ears sprouting from his crown. The seventh-years all hollered and laughed at the sight, save for Leander, who appeared wholly unamused by his fellow Gryffindor’s getup. "The bloody hell, Garreth?"

"What?" He grinned at the tall redhead. "Surely we couldn't have a proper Easter festivity without a rabbit present? Where’s the fun in that?"

Leander's jab echoed into the rim of his goblet before he took a sip. "Is that what’s been stuffed under your bedframe for the past month? You look ridiculous."

Undeterred, Garreth opted instead to, well, air his abundance of comfort. "Yes, but I feel incredible. Quite breezy down here, innit?"

Spiked cider sputtered from Sebastian then, dribbling down his chin. "Are you wearing anything under that poacher’s pelt?"

"Isn’t my smile enough for you, Sallow?"

Yet, despite yourself, your curiosity persisted, occasionally wandering to the vicinity of his lap. Heat rose to your cheeks, unrelated to the effects of alcohol, as you observed the subtle jostle there. It was a wager, you thought, with a flush of embarrassment tinting your cheeks, that Garreth Weasley remained, by all accounts, an honest man.

"What even is this fabric?" Natsai protested, pinching the fold of fluff near her housemate’s bicep. "It appears to be rather flammable."

"Now that would provide ample entertainment for the evening." Ominis chimed in nearby, his attention still fixed on his wand-led readings, seemingly uninterested in the fraternization.

"One at a time, darlings." Garreth, the ever-enthusiastic lion, swung a wicker-weave basket to and fro, reminiscent of some fictional harbinger of joy. Nestled within the dried grass padding were several small bottles of firewhisky, a smattering of cauldron cakes, and various other treats from Honeydukes. "I knew the Slytherins were in desperate need of a Pepperup, so I've come to spread the merriment. Snakes enjoy chocolate frogs, don't they?"

"I thought snakes typically ate rabbits," Imelda quipped, raising an eyebrow.

Garreth didn't miss a beat in his response to her jest. "If I were none the wiser, Reyes, I'd wager you'd like to take a hop around my carrot—"

A muttered expletive signalled the departure of the quidditch captain, leaving behind a chorus of laughter.

You found yourself enthusiastically joining in, relishing the unexpected amusement of the evening. As the crowd dispersed, you approached Garreth to select a treat of your own.

"Happy Easter, beautiful." Garreth's voice dipped low, laced with a suggestive tone that he often employed in your company. "Care to take a seat on the Easter bunny's lap and tell me what you want to find in your basket tomorrow morning?"

"That's Santa Claus," you teased in return.

"My mistake."

The flirtations between Garreth and yourself had become somewhat of a tradition throughout your Hogwarts enrollment, though they never progressed beyond playful banter. Here and now, with alcohol’s nack for unbarring inhibitions, the thought of advancing motions with the cheeky Gryffindor didn’t seem like such an unreachable feat.

"You seem rather warm in that outfit," you observed, noting the slight sheen above his brow.

Garreth chuckled. "It's rather steamy in here, indeed. But not to worry, I can… ventilate if needed." Handing you a small package of honeycomb with a coy smirk, he added, "Here, I think you'll enjoy this one."

Before you could inquire further, Garreth was already moving through the lively crowd, intent on distributing more sweets and cheers. With a huff of amusement, you tore into the package of honeycomb, only to notice some writing on the pleat of the wrapper.

'Do you know what rabbits are known for? I think we could do it better. Tell me when you’re ready, and we can hop off for the night.'

The implications hit you like lightning.

Copious procreation.

Flammable or not, your gaze practically burned through the back of Garreth's fluffy pink ensemble as he disappeared into the throng of students.

---

While the evening bled into night, even with the bolstering presence of libations coursing through your veins, the mere idea of approaching Garreth at the night's end had your insides all tangled. Harmless flirtations aside, this was a full-on proposition. What if the request was meant for someone else?

Then again, he’d deliberately dedicated the honeycomb to you…

---

Somewhere between a refilled goblet and the honeycomb wrapper now tucked into your brazier like some love letter from a sweetheart posted overseas, your prior suspicions of Garreth’s costume being rather warm were confirmed. The redhead retracted an arm inside the suit, while the other unzipped the front to his navel, exposing his bare chest as he tied the sleeves around his hips.

At that moment, propriety yielded to fascination, and any pretense of restraint evaporated as you found yourself captivated by the contours of his soft yet sculpted physique. A twinge of envy stirred within you, brought on by the admiring glances of the two Hufflepuff witches directed his way from the sidelines.

Garreth leaned against the wall, a slight trickle of sweat central to his chest, freckles all flushed from alcohol and flirtations, and seeing the wizard looking entirely dishevelled in his buzzed state did something truly wonderful for your inhibitions. Downing the rest of your pep talk, you crossed the common room, approached him near the enchanted piano, and promptly cupped a hand to his ear.

"I’m ready to… hop off, for the night." You whispered, the heat carried with it curling into the shell of cartilage.

"Yeah?" Garreth’s grin settled into a keen sort of coy, and his gaze went all honed-in and confident, leaning into you with some additional insinuations in those glassy greens of his. "Sure you don’t want to linger a bit longer in this charming mildew?"

His stray dig was not lost on Sebastian, who promptly threw Garreth a pointed warning without threat behind it, bopping an ear of his fuzzy getup.

"Settle down, Sallow," Garreth chortled, relieving his cup of its contents before boldly taking your hand. “We know the snakes always host the most splendid of shindigs.”

A chorus of wolf-whistles heralded your departure, along with someone’s award-winning remark about calling Garreth ‘Thumper.’

Down the adjacent hallway you went, past another couple that was long since lip-locked, and the firewhisky fuzz in you sought the very same. At the end of the hallway that connected to the Slytherin dormitories, coincidentally located at the intersection of friendship and something more, you shoved Garreth against the wall and claimed that magical mouth of his with your own.

For all the smart comments, the witty banter, the years of flirtations that stacked the deck and colored your cheeks, Garreth melted against you, a mess of vulnerability and desire. His body responded eagerly, exploring newfound territories with a hunger born of longing. Eventually, his body caught up to the priority of the situation, wrapping both arms around you with eager motions and traveling to all the locations he’d only dreamt of visiting before.

You were moving then—perhaps another student was evicting you from the open area, nudged aptly to ‘get a room’—but at one point or another, between lips, between moans, and those magical, heated renditions of your name, you found yourselves in a vacant dormitory.

"Who’s room is this?" You pondered breathlessly.

Garreth didn’t seem to give two shits as you all but crashed into the bedroom, nearly toppling an oil lamp, sending it teetering on its pegs as you collided with a bedpost. "Don’t know, don't care."

And that conversation promptly died in between your mouths, somewhere in the tangle of your tongues, as Garreth captured your wrists, holding them above your head as he trailed kisses along your throat. Plush, pink lips planted sweet kisses, while the scuff of end-of-day stubble bit friction in their wake.

"Garreth," You murmured with a shallow draw of breath. "You… you fancy me?"

"Oh, we’re well past fancying, love." His tone dipped back into devious territory, the same place where feelings like desire and longing and, goodness, arousal held court. “I’m onto the craving stages of our little tryst, myself. And right now… I need you.”

In response to his confession, your leg instinctively hitched over his hip, eliciting a low groan as he captured his bottom lip between teeth, a rewarding gesture that spoke volumes without a word.

His grip on your wrists was released, instead seeking the supple curve of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he carried you toward the nearest bed. Settling you down with a sense of urgency, the mattress dipped with his company, and he enveloped you in his embrace, hungering for more of the kisses that fueled his wet dreams.

Garreth pulled back, settling on his knees above you, a pleased grin playing on his lips as he panted, as if suddenly realizing something, perhaps in response to the whisper of a zipper against his bare chest. "Why aren't you naked yet?"

You laughed, mischief set free as you met his gaze. "Excuse me? What about romance? Shouldn't you be wooing me or, I don’t know, engaging in some foreplay?"

The redhead chewed his lip, and it stretched with eagerness. “Of course. Where are my manners? Though I’m still taking all of your clothes off right now, I’ve waited long enough for my Easter present.”

"You don’t exactly give gifts for Easter."

There wasn’t much room left for protest, however, as Garreth all but tore your skirt from your waist, his expression telling of the countless times he’d imagined doing so, perhaps somewhere into his fist or while soaking in the shower. The billow of linen and cotton was discarded with such haste that you thought he’d taken some unspoken offence to the garment, but then his efforts were being spent on tugging your underwear down. A breath born from an expletive ensured you were plenty wet for the introduction.

Verdant irises were engulfed by pupils blown wide, as Garreth drank in the sight of your sex. "God… my imagination could never."

"Like what you see, do you?" You giggled nervously, knees bent and pressed together in honest reflex.

"You have no bloody idea how much I like what I see," he replied with a grin, his gaze tracing every contour of your exposed skin. "...what am I supposed to do now?" It was his turn for a nervous chuckle, palming whatever flesh he made contact with, his demeanour akin to that of a tourist in need of directions.

A soft moan rewarded his efforts. "Whatever you desire... I'm yours for the night, remember?"

And to seal the proverbial deal, you peeled the ruched top up and over your head, unhooked your brazier immediately after, and bit the web of your cheek as you expedited it to the floor, joining the rest of your clothing expenditures.

The honeycomb wrapper fluttered onto your stomach, and Garreth raised an amused brow. "A fond little souvenir, hmm?"

"It’s sentimental, shut up." You purred, quieting his jests with bare chests pressed, and he saw no room for further comment on the matter. Garreth was all mouth then, kissing from lips to chin to lobe as he tutted. "Before we truly make like rabbits and fornicate," He couldn’t help the huff that followed, hearing himself say such a big boy word, "there's something I want to do first."

"Tell me," you urged quietly, fingers tangled in fiery copper curls. "Tell me what you want to do to me..."

"Well, for starters..." He kissed a breadcrumb trail from your neck to your shoulder, "I want to hold you in my arms and get you off."

"Oh god," anticipation drenched your mound and arched your back. "Yes, Garreth, please…"

The sound of your voice sent shivers down his spine, confirming the suspicions he had harboured for months. Curated Gryffindor courage made his heart swell, and his hands trailed down to both hips, maneuvering you around until your back pressed against his chest, playing little and big spoons. Garreth's lips found their way to the curve of your ear, where teeth and lips took turns teasing your lobe. "Comfy?"

"Very much so," you mewled, surrendering to his magnetic presence, your bare back pressed against his chest while you lay on your side. Your hips instinctively moved in synchrony with his, firm against fluffy pink fabric slung low on his waist, and there it is—that stiffness underneath the plush that has your mouth watering and your groin humming. A snort erupted from you at the reminder of the rabbit costume, partially undressed, entirely inappropriate.

"What's that, sweetheart? Gonna share with the class?" He tsked then, and a mischievous grin adorned his face as he felt the delightful pressure of your hips against his own. "Might I… take a dip?"

"Yes," you breathed, already writhing, already wanting, even though his exploration had only just commenced. "Please, Garreth... please..."

And so Garreth learned a lot about himself then; your pleading revealed a new kink. He nuzzled your neck with a mischievous grin, his touch growing more daring as a hand dipped lower; as soon as his fingers gently caressed the carnal crux between your thighs, your neck arched a bit harshly, but that was just fine; you were too absorbed in thoughts of holy fuck, Garreth is rubbing my clit.

The prompt response surprised him, but your brash expression had an undeniable allure. A playful smile appeared on his face as he leaned in and whispered in your ear. "Merlin, this wet for me already? So generous..."

"Can’t believe I’m getting fingered by someone in a bunny costume.”

“Fingered by me in a bunny costume, thank you.” Garreth began sucking over your jugular to elicit a sweet little cry from your mouth, and with the flesh popping audibly, no doubt where a bruise would bloom, he whispered, "You're going to feel splendid around me, beautiful.”

"I want you, Garreth." Grinding your pelvis into both his palm and his dick certainly conveyed as much. It echoed the heat that built over months of minute gestures, sidelong glances, and jokes made at each other’s expense.

"I want you, too." His hand moved with purpose, with three fingers flat against your bud, dipping to explore your intimate depths while those tactful lips brushed the upward jut of your neck. An arm snaked under you and around your middle, palming a breast with a multitasking maneuver that made you squirm.

"Garreth," you whimpered as he caressed your wetness, throwing petrol on the fire within you. You found a rhythm that harmonized with the symphony he composed. "Yes, yes..."

"What is it, baby?" His thumb made love to that throb and swell of nerves, eyes closed in concentration as he leaned closer, exhalation hot on your shoulder.

"I want to come for you," you rasped, testifying that which sought to consume you. "Please… faster…"

Garreth's explorations intensified, and the sound of your slick arousal punctuated each movement. An almost accomplished smile curled his lips, relishing the subtle power he held over you. "Do my fingers feel good?" His voice danced all hushed and seductive, the grate of alcohol and lust on his throat.

You were lost in the whims of his touch, unfolding in his hands. As he quickened the pace of his fingers, your body arched along the river banks of abandon, edging closer to release. "I know something that would feel even better."

He possessed an innate knowledge of the words that would stoke the fire within you. "We’ll get there," he whispered, his breath hot on your racing pulse. "First… come for me."

"Yes," you whimpered, your voice trembling with the impending climax that welled within. His finger movements, an audacious symphony between soaked folds, carried you ever closer. "I'm… I'm… "

As your cries of pleasure came forth with volume, Garreth focused his efforts on your clitoral hood, applying firm pressure as opposed to frantic fingering, intent on prolonging the spasms. At the same time, your body practically sang his praises, and he offered the same in return. "Good girl. Now... are you ready for me?"

You panted, flipping over to face him with a breathless peppering of kisses, flush with gratitude. “Keep calling me a good girl like that, and I will be,” you breathed, gently biting his bottom lip.

He was quick on the draw, bless him. "Good girl.”

Eager motions resumed, bodies practically clinging together. "I want you inside me, Garreth." You squirmed underneath, anticipating his taking. “Let me be your good girl; take me from behind…”

Without hesitation, Garreth shifted you onto your stomach faster than his brain could sort sense of the idea. He grabbed you by the hips, repositioning you on the bed with precision, with his trademark combination of dominance and fondness. You stabilized on elbows, swaying your hips like the comely creature you were.

"Is this what my good girl wants?" he smirked, devouring the gradual parting of your legs, the invitation for him to claim what is rightfully his.

"Yes," you practically pleaded, thrumming to feel the weight of his hands upon your hips, to experience his penetration. "Please, baby... spank me."

He processed the request with his mouth slightly agape in surprise at your words. No one had ever made such a request to him before. "Are you asking me to spank my good girl?"

A coy nod over your shoulder and a bitten lip conveyed your consent. "Yes, please... I'll be good..."

"Say it properly.” The command was all supplicant and alluring, while ravenous hands sampled your inner thighs.

“Please, Garreth…” You whimpered, practically dripping. “Please, spank me.”

"That's better..."

A palm thunderclapped across your rear with unexpected force. Another followed in quick succession, harder than the first, and you cried a simpering symphony. Hips swayed and rutted, knees threatened to buckle, and your back arched as heat rooted deep. "More, please, baby..."

His breath hitched as he took in your heartfelt plea, spurred on by something that mingled and met with testosterone, compelling him to venture into unexplored realms, a captive yearning for sweet freedom. Garreth employed the enthralling control he had over you as he gripped your hips possessively, while his palm branded your buttocks.

"So good," you gasped, and each contact drew forth a garbled moan.

A mischievous smirk played across the lion’s face, as he darkened at the welting consequences of his actions. He prolonged the inevitable. "Oh, is that so?" His hand descended once more, his touch deliberate, unhurried.

"Yes, oh god..." You yearned for a proper fuck, to have your hips hammered, longed to stretch intimately around him. With your bottom lip caught between teeth, you glanced back at Garreth, exuding an eager and willing demeanour. "Baby, please..."

The taut heat of his cock nestled against your rear. Nimble fingers curled into your waist, drawing you closer, and then Garreth discovered the full extent of your arousal. "So wet for me..."

"Only for you, baby..." You pushed your hips back, feeling entirely too empty all of a sudden. "Garreth, I need you inside of me… please, take me... "

"Oh, I'm going to take you, all right."

And then, in a display of vulnerability, he guided you closer with hesitant hands seeking comfort on your thighs. With a shared breath, Garreth aligned himself, gathering warmth and wetness in kind on his cock, and announced his entry with an audible exhale.

Like a reflex, your back arched, writhing serpentine along his length as Garreth bottomed out. He provided experimental thrusts, gradually quickened the pace, and soon you were sucked into a beautiful pattern.

A primal moan parted lips in an unfiltered expression of longing as he delved deeper, as Garreth bucked from behind. Bending down, he pressed an enthusiastic kiss to your nape, grunting with the forceful motion of his fuck. With every thrust, his lips on your neck sent shivers down your spine, and with how desperate he was to hold you close, Garreth clutched you close and brought your torso upright, swaying in rhythm, your bodies making sense of one another’s.

"Oh, baby girl…" The wizard purred into your ear with a strong forearm clamped over your torso and a firm grasp tangled in your hair. He tugged at your strands as he increased his pace, the pricks of pulled nerves eliciting a gasp. His grip across your midsection anchored you to his chest, the tight hold leaving crescent marks of possession into the swell of a breast. A lovely, lewd sound escaped his throat as your hips began to meet his movements, the overwhelming pleasure consuming him entirely.

Your back pressed against his chest, and you contorted in all the right ways. With a head tilted back, your sights set on the heavens, surrendering to the moment. "Fuck me, baby. Hold me tight..."

"I’m not letting go," The words were all breath, the sound caught on the brimming heart stuck in his throat, as he leaned down to bite your neck. "You're... you're mine..."

Your hand instinctively snaked between your legs, choking your clit between index and middle digits. The intense sensation of Garreth's plumbing your depths brought you to the brink, surpassing your wildest expectations. "Oh god, Garreth, I'm... I'm coming...”

A shriek was stifled as you came hard and raw, your abdomen releasing pressure buildup as you rocked against Garreth’s cock like it was your saving grace, coaxing and prolonging your release as you disengaged from body and mind, almost going slack in his arms. The announcement, the tightness of your orgasm propelled him fuck to his full potential, chorused by your cries. He teetered on the brink, his equilibrium delicately balanced as he held onto your hip, thrusting deeper inside with each exhalation, his movements deliberate and steadfast.

The bed protested audibly as you rocked on your knees, punctuating your passionate connection. You coaxed him with a voice still raw and made all the more ragged from your climax. "Come, baby…"

Your words were the catalyst of his coming. Garreth buried his face into the back of your neck, breathing ragged and erratic as the boundless excitement that you built within him finally burst forth in a breathtaking culmination. He surrendered to an overwhelming release, spilling himself deep within.

Collapsing forward, he pressed you into the bed, his body weight a comforting presence upon you. You let out a sound of satisfaction as he settled on your back, your inner thighs slick with evidence of your shared release. An inward sigh of fulfillment escapes you while you tilt to plant a kiss on his cheek. "God, that was even better than the first."

"You’ve rendered me boneless, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as he buried his face in the crook of your shoulder. “I’m utterly spent.”

You couldn't help letting out a soft chuckle; your fingers naturally entwined with his as you both shifted onto your sides. When your eyes met, they reflected a sense of contentment and gratification. "Me too," you admitted, your voice soothing in the quiet aftermath. "Spent and drained..."

Garreth's hand tightened around yours, conveying tenderness. His lips curled into a gentle smile, a sparkle of admiration flickering in his gaze. Compelled by magnetism, you gravitated close, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. "Stay," you murmured, longing to extend this moment of closeness.

The chuckle he responded with caught you off guard until you realized that you hadn’t the foggiest idea whose bed you just expressed your feelings in. "Ah, I see," you laughed, begrudgingly reaching for your clothes.

As you tugged each article of clothing on, Garreth adjusted the rabbit costume back into place, and you devolved into a fit of giggles. “Did you even take off that ridiculous get-up?”

“Listen, love,” Garreth smirked, claiming your chin with impish intent. “I just fucked the most beautiful woman in our year wearing this. I won't soon be criticizing its charm.”

You leaned closer to kiss him, as breathless as he made you feel. “Fair enough.”

[hyuckkaiji]

only mine - sebastian sallow x f!reader

summary; " sebastian has been on the run for several years, hiding from the ministry of magic. his sole purpose is to find you again. he's obsessed and no one can stop him from having you again. no one. " he's finally found you, alone in the dark. pt.2: my love / pt.3: ominis , pt.3 sebastian

word count; 4.7k

warnings; 18+, explicit sexual content, dark themes, dubcon, porn with a plot, dark!sebastian, sub/dom dynamics, cheating/infidelity

note; this is based on dark!sebastian ai created by @seabass-swallows characters are obviously aged up, early 20s. Also this is my first time actually writing smut, so be kind

You were fifteen when you lost the love of your life. You were fifteen when he ran from the ministry. "A dark wizard, a fugitive, rewards for his capture" words you could never forget hearing. Words that were repeated in whispers by students, commands by aurors.

"You will tell us if you hear anything?"

"Of course, Sir." It was a lie. You would never give Sebastian up, even if you did know where he went. But you didn't. He was there one day and gone the next. No one knew where he'd disappeared to, not that the aurors believed you when you said as much. How could his lover not know where he went nor his best friend? They thought you and Ominis were lying.

They watched the both of you for months, the only two left that the Sallow boy trusted. His sister, Anne, had succumbed to her curse well before he ran. He had nothing and no one but two other fifteen year olds, two other children.

All of you only really had each other, but three had become two. And fifteen had become nineteen when Ominis took you to wife. You didn't love him, not like you loved Sebastian, but he was all you had. You had latched onto him for so many years, telling yourself you could love him. One day, possibly.

So you married him, always telling yourself the day would come. But nineteen turned to twenty, then twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three. And here you stood, loving him no more than you did at fifteen.

You watched as he sat anxiously, drumming his fingers against the hard wood surface of your dining table. The dark suit jacket discarded, his vest open, his shirt a few buttons loose as his other hand pulled free his tie.

"Do you find me incapable of defending myself?" You snapped at him. You were always snapping at him these days, his presence no longer a comfort but a nuisance. A cage you willingly walked into. A choice you wished you could take back.

"No," He sighed, standing as he pulled the vest and tie off, walking a few steps forward to hold your face in his warm grasp, "I just-"

"Worry." You push his hands away, turning your back to him . "Yes, I know. You worry. You've worried your whole life, and you'll never stop."

His arms wrapped around you from behind, his body strong and solid as he presses against yours. He brings his head down to rest at the crook of your neck, pressing soft chaste kisses. You lean back, resting your head against him. A comforting, relaxing gesture, not your comfort, but his.

"It's a dangerous world." He whispers the words into your skin. You give an involuntarily shudder in response. "It's just tea, Ominis. This is Feldcroft. Nothing is dangerous here."

He turns you to face him, his arms snaking around your waist. He looks down at you into your eyes, like he can see your soul, like he has a different kind of sight. You raise your arms to wrap around his neck, a move to ease him, to stop him from further examining. Lest he sees the lack of love, the falsity of your touches.

You press a kiss to his soft lips, "Just tea, husband, I'll be back before you know it." He nods, "Be safe, wife." A pause, "I love you."

You pull yourself free of his grasp, "I know Ominis, as do I." You grab your coat, hurrying out into the chill spring night before he could say anymore. You had never told him you loved him, never said the words outright. It would be a betrayal to Sebastian, to yourself, to Ominis.

You suppose he must know you don't love him, you hope he doesn't love you, hope he's lying every time the words pass his lips, you wish he'd stop saying them. You feel so guilty every time he does, guilty, as you only hum in response or reply with the words you conditioned yourself  to say.

Your thoughts and actions shame you constantly. He deserves better. You know he does, but you just cannot bring yourself to be the woman he deserves. So round and round you go, playing this game of pretend where you both lie to yourselves, to each other, pretend to be the good auror and his loving wife.

You could no longer even love him as a friend. You haven't been able to for years. You lost that comfort the first time he bedded you, the first time you felt him inside you, filling you with painful, unfamiliar sensations.

You waited till he slept that night to sneak away, to sit in the living room of your new home and sob yourself to sleep. He heard you, though he never told you, he woke as soon as you left the bed, trailing behind you silently. He sat in the hallway listening to your soft sobs for hours, listening until you could cry no more tears. He went back to your bed and never said a word about it. He woke you the next morning with a plate of hot steaming breakfast.

It got better, as good as it could be. The routine you fell into, what was painful became pleasure, you stopped crying after every encounter, started sleeping beside him instead of the couch. Spent your mornings beside him, kissed him before he left for work. Welcomed him home with open arms in the evenings.

Until you couldn't take it anymore, until every false kiss chipped away at your soul. Until you screwed your eyes shut, picturing Sebastian's face every time Ominis was inside you. Until you spent every waking moment fantasizing about running away, praying one day Ominis just wouldn't come home. But he always did, and you kept welcoming him. What choice did you have? You have nowhere to go, no family, and Ominis didn't deserve to come home to an empty house.

You don't know how long you walked. You just walked until your thoughts silenced themselves. You had lied to Ominis as you so often did. Not leaving for tea with a friend but just leaving to be away from him and that god forsaken house. You walked until your face felt numb, and the moon hid away, leaving you in pure darkness. You should go home, Ominis is definitely worried.

But the thought of laying beside him again made you want to claw at your skin. Hands grabbed you, pushing you up against the nearest wall, their grip on your shoulders firm but not painful. They say a persons response to danger is fight of flight, but you just stand there frozen in fear. "Please don't hurt me." Your voice is barely above a whisper.

"Oh, how I've missed you. I would never hurt you." The voice coos at you, deep and husky. The hands sliding off your shoulders to trail down your arms. You recognized the voice, though the years had altered it, you could never forget it.

"Sebastian." You gasp

"Yes, my love." He pulls out his wand, casting a spell that only dimly illuminates the dark expanse around you.

He looks like a different man, a hardened criminal, but you can still see the traces of the boy you knew underneath. His baby fat has melted away, leaving only muscle in its wake. He had grown several more inches, towering over you now. A dark shadow of a beard begging to grow clings to his jaw, his hair is longer and shaggy. Most notably, a scar runs in intricate swirls from just below his left eye, across his cheek, and midway down his neck. Only dark magic could scar a person as such.

"Get off of me." You attempt to pull your arms from his grasp, but he holds tight. "Have you not missed me, y/n? There is no need to be so hostile." He leans in, his warm breath fanning your face, it smells of cinnamon toast, sweet, just like when you were children.

"Do not touch me." You are afraid, afraid of this stranger, this man before you is not your Sebastian.

"I have spent years waiting to touch you again. You're mine, mine to touch how and when I see fit. Do you truly expect me to let go?" His voice holds no malice. He speaks as if these are mere facts.

"I am a married woman. Get off of me." You continue to struggle, to no avail. Sebastian pauses, pulling away slightly but not releasing you.

"Married?" The word sounds venomous coming from him, "To whom?"

"Ominis." A look of pure disbelief washes over Sebastians face. "You..." His tone is accusatory. He takes a few steps away from you, letting his hands fall to his side, "You ... married ... Ominis."

You shrink back in fear. A soft, quiet anger far more terrifying than a fiery rage. "How could- why?" You can see the way his hands slightly tremble as they ball into fists.

You contemplate saying nothing. Imagining your response may only make this worse, but after a beat of silence, you decide to speak anyway. "He was all I had." You confess, still silence, so you continue.

"After you ran, after your actions came to light and aurors spent months at the school waiting for you. We became pariahs. Me more than Ominis. People whispered about me, about you, about me loving you, knowing what you did, lying about where you were."

"He stayed by my side through it all, the only one I had, have still. After we finished school we were wed. All these years, and he's the only one that shared my loss, understood it, understood me." A means to your end, your salvation. Ominis always puts you first. You don't think he'll ever stop.

"This isn't real." Sebastian is muttering to himself, shaking his head, looking to the ground instead of you. You should run. It might be your only chance, but your legs refuse to obey you, staying glued to the spot, pressed against the old stone wall. "You said you loved me!"

"I did!" You raise your voice in response, hurt, anger, betrayal, old long buried emotions bubbling back to the surface. "I did love you, I wanted to be your wife, I wanted to spend forever with you. But you ran, you left me all alone, Sebastian." Tears are streaming down your face, "I would have gone to the ends of the earth for you but you left me."

You close your eyes, taking a shuddering breath. Ominis, you need to get back to your husband. Ominis, you repeat his name like a prayer, willing him to appear, to save you, to take you home. Ominis, your poor sweet husband. But he doesn't appear. You have no savior. Only the fugitive standing before you.

"Tell me something." His voice is soft, like he's speaking to a frightened animal. "Have you had his children?"

"No, of course not." The words leave your mouth without a thought to how they might sound, what they might imply. Sebastian only sighs in relief. 

"I don't understand," He brings his hand up to caress your cheek, brushing away the tear streaks with the pad of his thumb. "How could you have moved on. What... what we had ... it was special." You look up into his eyes, and for a moment, a split second, he was your sebastian. Your sweet, sad Sebastian.

"Tell me you don't love him," he whispers, only inches from your face now, "Tell me y/n. You cannot possibly love him like you love me."

"I do, Sebastian. I love him. He's my husband."

"He's nothing." Sebastian is gripping your face in one rough hand, so hard you worry it might bruise. He's gone. This is not a man you know, this is a stranger. A stranger that frightens you, a stranger that's hurting you. "You belong to me. Our connection is special."

"Please stop." Your tears beg to fall once more.

"Tell me you still love me."

"I love Ominis." A lie, though in this moment you wish it were true. You wish you had stayed home, crawled into bed with him. Felt his cool fingers brush along your skin, felt his warm mouth press kisses into your most sensitive parts. Let him find his release with your body, use you until you fell asleep in the safety of his arms.

"You still love me, I know it." He lips brush the shell of your ear as he speaks. You shut your eyes again, trying to picture your home, safe. But the smell of Sebastian settles on your senses, he smells the same as he did so long ago. "I do not love you." Is that a lie, you aren't certain. "You... you are terrifying me." That at least was true.

His hand finally leaves your face, coming to rest at your elbow as his thumb rubs soothing circles, "Oh but you do. You can't escape me."

"Kiss me my love, like you did all those years ago. All I ask is one, grant it and I'll allow you to run back to your husband."

You look at him, searching his gaze with your own. "Promise?" Your voice trembles , Sebastian nods in response.

You take a steadying breath, pressing both hands against his chest. You push him back both of you moving a few steps, just enough for you to stop feeling trapped, just enough to feel the cool night breeze.

You look up at him as he brings his hands to rest at your waist. This is your sebastian, your sebastian, you tell yourself this over and over trying to banish your fear. You raise to the tips of your toes, bringing your hands up to wound themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck.

You ghost your lips over his, feeling as his breath hitches, allowing him to pull you into his chest before your lips meet. It's soft, a kiss of longing, a kiss of lost children. Then it's deepening, passionate and he pulls away before you're ready. He pulls away and you chase after him, one hand at the crook of his neck and the other buried in his hair. You pull his lower lip between your teeth, dragging his mouth back to yours. Only pulling away when you need to breathe.

You let you head fall against his chest, let yourself breathe in his scent as he runs soft fingers through your hair, both of you breathing heavily. Only a second passes before you regain your senses, before you remember the husband waiting for you. You pull back quickly, "I-" guilt and shame course through you.

Ominis deserves better, a better woman, a woman that loves him. It's been eight years, eight years since sebastian left you, eight years you have used Ominis as a means to your ends. And never have you felt such desire for him as you feel now in this dark alley with a man you no longer know.

"This is wrong." Your words are barely audible, when you get no response you take the opportunity to run or try to run. Because Sebastian has his arms around your waist, catching you before you could even make it five feet.

"Why are you here?" You cry. But he only holds you in place as you kick, claw, and try to bite your way out of his grasp, to no avail. "You said I could go back to my husband, you said one kiss."

Sebastian chuckles darkly, "I lied." Then he's dragging you away, three feet, four, six, ten. It's dark, and you can't see, but quickly, he's shoving you through a door. You land on your hands and knees as he releases you. You scramble away, still on the floor just trying to put distance between you and him. Sebastian only laughs, walking over to the fading fire place, he tosses in a log before taking a seat on the sofa.

He splays out, legs falling open, one bent for him to rest a hand on and the other straight ahead , his left arm thrown over the top of the sofa. His black button down shirt is loose at the top, opening just enough to expose a glimpse of his collar bones. His dark trousers strained at his thighs, where his right hand thrummed mindlessly.

You eye him wearily, waiting for his next move. "Are you my pet now, love? On the floor, at my feet?" You say nothing. He only bothers to glance at you, so sure you won't try and run again. Or maybe just that he knows he can catch you if you do. "Are you waiting for my instructions, pet?"

"Come sit with me." He continues to watch the crackling fire and you continue to stare at him. "You once called this place your second home. Do you hate it now?" You didn't look, didn't notice but now you do. You take in the room around you, the home he dragged you into. His home, Anne's home ... Solomon's home.

Sebastian huffs, loosing patience with you. "Join me, y/n. I will not ask again." He leans forward his elbows at his knees as he watches you. "I do not care if you must crawl over here, do it or I will drag you here myself."

Ominis, Ominis, Ominis you wish he could sense you call out for him. That he would save you from this madness as he did so many years ago. But this house has sat abandoned for eight years, Ominis hasn't step foot in here for eight years.

So you take your only option, standing slowly dusting yourself off in the process, trying to muster some false dignity. You walk over sitting as close to the edge as you can manage, attempting to put as much space between you as possible. But Sebastian is much larger than you remember and seated in the middle you could sit no where without feeling his leg press against yours.

"I've know since the moment I first laid eyes on you, we were destined to be together." You watch him but his gaze reminds fixed on the fire, now back in his comfortable position.

"I belong with Ominis." Sebastian gives an exasperated sigh, tossing his head back to rest on the sofa, though he's tilted just enough to meet your stare. "I know you want me, just as I want you. You may fool yourself into thinking you're happy with Ominis, but I know." 

You aren't happy with Ominis though, you know that. You know you've never been happy with Ominis. That's why you left tonight, isn't it. Your thoughts are a jumbled mess, incomprehensible.

Sebastian grabs you, pulling you into his lap with ease. You don't fight back this time, why have you been fighting this, trying so hard to get back to Ominis. Isn't this exactly what you've been dreaming of for years, fantasizing about every day. Sebastian let's out a satisfied hum as you settle into his lap, one hand resting on your knees the other holding your hips in place.

"I told you, I could feel it. The love you still bare me." His lips are at you neck pressing open mouth kisses to the exposed skin. "I know how badly you craved me, my love. I craved you just the same." He pulls your coat off. "How I missed you."

You're like a statue, not fighting but giving in just yet. Sebastian continues his assault none the less. Nimble finger undoing your blouse as his teeth nip at any exposed skin he can find. You don't attempt to stop him as he tears chemise straight down the middle, leaving you exposed to him.

His gasp is soft, his tone loving, "You're more beautiful than I could have ever imagined." He's tearing the ripped material free from your body. Moving out from beneath, he sits you on the sofa and kneels before you. "I hate that he had you first, touched you, tasted what's mine."

He ghosts his fingers over chest, his thumb coming to brush over a pert nipple. You shudder, "I am not yours, I-I..." You catch his hand in yours, pulling it away from your breasts, holding the one in both of yours.

"You're not Ominis'." No, he's right. You stare at his hand, your thumb stroking over his knuckles. "Tell me you don't want this, want me." He's not asking, he already knows your anwser.

He pushes your skirt up so it rests just below your hips, pulling you in with a rough hand at the nape of your neck and the other gripping you waist. His lips are against yours, angling you to deepen the kiss. You open your mouth slightly, allowing him to intertwine his tounge with yours. The soft moan that emits from you is involuntarily, a sound that only urges Sebastian on.

He pulls you into a standing position, his mouth never leaving yours. You let your hand travel the expanse of his clothed back, contured with muscles he didn't have before. "Take this off." He hooks a finger in the waistband of your skirt, letting it snap back against your skin.

He takes a seat, watching you with hungry eyes as you follow his command. You stand before him, exposed as you have only ever been exposed to Ominis. "So fucking beautiful." His words are nearly a growl.

"Tell me where you belong?" You pause at his words, there is no going back now. "With you. I...I always belonged with you." He hums, satisfied with your anwser, "Be a good girl and kneel."

Your knees hit the rug beneath you with a soft thud, you steady yourself with a hand on Sebastians knee. Your heart hammering away in your chest with anticipation of his next command.

"Tell me you still love me." His voice is low and husky.

"I still love you, I never stopped." A shameful confession for a married woman, but you didn't feel that. All you could think about was how hot your skin felt, flushed and begging to be touch.

He leans in, letting his breath fan your face. He's looking at you like a beast ready to devour its prey. "I told you, you belong to me. No man will ever compare."

"I belong to you." You whisper back, you mean it. You've been his since the moment you met. And all you want in this moment is him, every part, to show him how much you missed him.

"Prove it..." he says quietly, his gaze dark, "I expect you to treat me like a God. I am your God." He chuckles softly, "Aren't I, pet." He brushes his thumb over your cheek, a falsely sweet gesture. When you don't respond quickly his hand drops to your breast, harshly twisting an erect nipple. "I said, aren't I, pet."

"Yes, yes." You yelp, "You're my God." You should be ashamed, kneeling before him, groveling like this. But it's so different from what you're used to Ominis touches are soft, gentle, with your pleasure at the forefront of his mind. This, Sebastian, makes fire burn inside you, sending waves of shock to your core.

"Show me how much you worship me." He releases his rough hold on you, leaning back expectantly. You crawl your way onto his lap, breathe hitching as your exposed core makes contact with his clothed bulge.

He watches you with half lidded eyes, you make quick work of unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, even popping a few of them in your haste, causing Sebastian to let out a breathy chuckle. You feel like a woman gone mad, more beast then witch. Your body aching to be touched, bitten, marked, filled by him. You need it like you've never known need before.

He shrugs the loose shirt the rest of the way off, displaying this pale freckled chest. If there is a heaven, this is it. From his skin flushed a pale pink to the trail of soft hair leading down into his trousers.

You kiss every part of him you can reach, sucking angry red splotches into his skin, teeth sinking in at some parts like he's the last meal you'll ever eat. His chest is falling and rising in rapid breaths as he fights to maintain his composure. 

"You're so wet. I can feel it soaking through. Is that all for me, pet?" His voice is low and rough, the words forcing their way pasted gritted teeth. You said nothing, only rocked your hips against his, your mouth still marking his abused skin. The moan he let's out is sinful.

"I can't." You don't have time to wonder what he means before he's flipped you onto your back. "Sebastian, my love." He's between your legs, already licking a strip up your aching core. He hums his approval, "Even sweeter than I imagined."

You buck your hips, chasing after his mouth. "Tell me what you want, pet?"

"You" is the only word you can muster.

"Big girl words. Details. Did you fantasize about me when you fucked our friend, fucked your husband?"

You whine, feeling pathetic, fully at his mercy. "Every night I was in his bed, I pictured you. Your mouth Sebastian, your hands, your cock inside me. It's the only way I can finish." You're panting, he so close to where you want him, where you need him, his breath alone sends waves of pleasure that leave you shivering.

Then he's delving in like a man starved, lapping at your core like it's his last meal. Pleasure racks your body with intensity you've never experienced, you can do nothing but cry out and tangle your fingers in his mess of brown curls.

You see white before you feel it, the coil snapping deep in you. Your body tensing as he draws out your orgasm with a skilled tongue before you drop, heavy and unable to move. But he isn't finished, he's waited far to long for him to be done now. His pants are on the floor, discarded with a kick. His cock springs free, lightly slapping against his stomach. Angry red tip already leaking.

You can only look at him, too weak to move Yourself. So he moves you around himself, picking you up like a loose limbed doll, his to do with as he pleases. Laying you gently on the rug, legs hiked up around his waist. He leans in pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before finally sliding into your wet, willing hole.

The sound he let's out is animalistic, almost a snarl. "Fuck y/n. I dreamed of this. You," his hips are snapping against yours in a rough motion, "you were made for me. Taking me so well, pet."

He finds his rhythm with a bruising grip on your hips holding you in the air, a string of curses and incoherent pleas tumble out of your mouth. "Fuck fuck fuck, seb, my, please, fuck seb."

"My pretty girl."

He wraps an arm around your back to keep you in place, bringing his other hand to rub quick circles into your swollen clit. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, body tensing as another orgasm tears its way through you.

Sebastians hips stutter as you clench around him, shooting hot thick spurts into you. "I'm gonna put a baby in you, love." He's rolling his hips against yours, drawing out both your pleasure. When he finally stops you both collapse, too tired, too drained to do anything but lay in his arms and listen to his heart beat.

"I should have taken you with me. I promise I'll never leave you again." You should have told him no, you still have a husband to go back to but you only hummed. Letting yourself fall into a fitful sleep with the sound of Sebastian's heart beat and his fingers running through your hair.

[jmliebert]

masterlist

hi, I daydream, I write and obsess over fictional characters (enjoy ˙ᵕ˙)

always very open to suggestions, requests etc, love to hear from you

very thankful for every nice comment, for every reblog and message!

support me here <3

✩ BALDUR'S GATE ✩

Halsin

♡ headcanons ♡

Halsin in love (fluff headcanons)

Little things that would make halsin fall for you harder (fluff headcanons)

Lovesick Halsin (fluff headcanons)

Halsin x shy!virgin (smut headcanons)

Halsin x you (smut&fluff headcanons)

Halsin x shy!insecure!reader (smut&fluff headcanons)

Love smitten Halsin x oblivious Tav (fluff headcanons)

♡ short-stories ♡

Scent of Seduction (short-story) (smut&fluff)

Hot and bothered (short-story) (smut&fluff)

Halsin longing for you (your scent makes him forget himself) (smut)

Halsin little distraction (short-story) (shameless smut)

♡ others ♡

Halsin x you by the lake (smut scenario)

Halsin teaching you how to kiss (fluff, halsin x shy tav scenario)

Halsin giving Tav wooden duck, and her returning the favour (little headcanon)

Apologising on their knees (gale☆astarion☆halsin)

Halstarion (halsin x astarion)

Halsin x Astarion (smut&fluff headcanons)

For the strongest, a hard claim (short story) (sub-halsin smut)

Astarion

♡ headcanons ♡

Lovesick Astarion (fluff headcanons)

Astarion comforting you when you're sad (headcanons)

Little things that would make astarion fall harder for you (fluff headcanons)

Astarion x shy!virgin (smut headcanons)

Random thoughts of being with astarion (a little bit angsty headcanons)

♡ others ♡

Apologising on their knees (gale☆astarion☆halsin)

Gale

♡ headcanons ♡

Quiet nights spent with Gale (fluff headcanons)

Lovesick Gale (fluff headcanons)

Domestic bliss with Gale (fluff headcanons)

Little things that would make Gale fall harder for you (fluff headcanons)

Gale as your husband (fluff)

♡ short-stories ♡

Starry nights belong to lovers (short-story) (longing) (smut&angst)

Gale x shy virgin (fluff)

♡ others ♡

Tormenting Gale.... (smut scenario) (gale soft sub)

Apologising on their knees (gale☆astarion☆halsin)

How your lover would grieve you (angst headcanons) (astarion,gale,halsin,wyll)

bg3 (as a whole party)

Beach-day (headcanons)

✩HARRY POTTER✩

Tom Riddle

When Tom Riddle is attracted to you (headcanons)

Yule Ball with Tom Riddle (headcanons)

Nights with Tom Riddle (headcanons)

Tom Riddle as your professor (headcanons)

Tom Riddle as your husband (headcanons)

Tom Riddle in love (headcanons)

Tom Riddle x soft crybaby (headcanons)

Tom Riddle x Evil!Reader (headcanons)

Creature of the night (smut short-story) (manipulative tom)

Draco Malfoy

When Draco Malfoy has a crush on you (headcanons)

My favourite Draco (headcanons)

Draco x Harry (fluffy headcanons)

George Weasley

When George Weasley has a crush on you (headcanons)

George Weasley as ur boyfriend (headcanons)

Fred Weasley

Fred Weasley as your husband (headcanons)

James Potter

When James has a crush on you

✩HOGWARTS LEGACY✩

Sebastian Sallow

Yule Ball with Sebastian Sallow (headcanons)

Sebastian as your boyfriend (headcanons)

Sebastian as your husband (headcanons)

How to win over Sebastian Sallow (headcanons)

Jealous Sebastian Sallow (small, fluffy headcanons)

Academic Rivals with Sebastian Sallow (headcanons)

Breaking up with Sebastian (headcanons)

Ominis Gaunt

When Ominis has a crush on you (headcanons)

Ominis as your boyfriend (headcanons)

Ominis as your husband (headcanons)

How to win over Ominis (headcanons)

Breaking up with Ominis (headcanons)

Garreth Weasley

When Garreth has a crush on you (headcanons)

Slytherin trio (you x sebastian x ominis)

Slytherin trio dynamics (headcannons)

Ominis x Sebastian having a crush on you (headcanons)

(mc x ominis x sebastian x poppy x natsai x garreth x amit)

HL friends-group dynamics

HL friend-group dynamics (drunk-edition)

✩JJK✩

Kento Nanami

When Nanami has a crush on you (fluff headcanons)

Nanami as your lover (fluff, smut headcanons)

Nanami in bed

Nanami as Your Husband

Gojo

When Gojo has a crush on you (fluff headcanons)

✩HOTD✩

Aemond

Aemond headcanons (modern, and vey random)

When Aemond has a crush on you (modern headcanons)

Aemond as your boyfriend (modern headcanons)

(lovely dividers by @cafekitsune)

[cursedonyx]

The Bars Between Us

Sebastian Sallow x MC

Oneshot AU in which Sebastian was sent to Azkaban despite Ominis and MC (named Dracaena in this fic because it’s my current favourite name) trying to keep his secrets. Ominis and Dracaena spent the next several years trying to free him, and eventually succeed. Sebastian is not the same, Azkaban has sapped him of everything he once was, but a little TLC from the woman he has always loved sets him back on track.

Word Count – 8.6k

Warnings – Angst, traumatised Sebastian, aftermath of Azkaban, engaged Ominis/MC, Ominis approves MC sleeping with Seb, seriously Seb’s been through the wringer, Azkaban is horrible, nursing Seb back to health, smut (MDNI), handjob M!receiving, oral M!receiving, sub!Sebastian, MC feels a bit guilty bc her boy is a wreck

Six years.

It had been six years since the terrible events of fifth year, and six years since Sebastian had stood trial for the murder of Solomon Sallow. Six years since he was sentenced to life in Azkaban.

Six years since Dracaena and Ominis had scrambled to find out who had condemned him, and vowed to make it right.

No sooner had they left Hogwarts, not able to fully appreciate the finality of riding the little boats across the Black Lake towards Hogsmeade station, leaving behind the place in which they had matured into adults, leaving behind the wonders and horrors in equal parts, that they both signed up for jobs at the Ministry for Magic, working in Magical Law Enforcement, searching for some kind of loophole, some kind of law, some kind of anything that would get their best friend released from hell.

After four agonising years, they managed it. Together, pouring over paperwork by candlelight until the small hours for months, they built a solid defence, their unwavering logic and staunch reasoning standing up to the needlepoint scrutiny of the powers that be. Of course, they knew it was a long shot all the same. The Ministry simply didn’t care about extenuating circumstances, considering those incarcerated to be less than human, doomed to serve their time no matter what new evidence came to light.

Ominis had to throw his weight around a bit. Subtle, hissed threats, muttered warnings and an overuse of his famous glare and family name eventually frightened enough people to get those with the ability to make changes to listen. And then Dracaena came in, her fame and her charm the honey to Ominis’ salt, making promises she never intended to keep, assuring those too nervous to make the jump to support them, doing favours that left an unsavoury taste in the back of her throat.

All of it proved worth it in the end. Sebastian’s release papers were handed over, and Dracaena packed a small bag.

“I’ll be a week,” she said to Ominis. “They want him to stay in a sort of halfway house for a while, to make sure he’s not going to go mental and start hexing everyone in sight. Personally, I’m just glad he’s going to get some time to start readjusting to life outside.” She tilted her head. “Won’t you come with me?”

“Best not,” Ominis said, for the fiftieth time, his patience unending. “I don’t want to overwhelm him, and you’ve always known how to calm him down when he gets too… well.”

She chuckled lightly. “That’s assuming he’s not a complete wreck. I hope it’s not affected him too badly.”

“Dove… he’s going to be very different to what we remember,” Ominis replied, resting a hand on her shoulder as she folded her clothes. “He won’t be the Sebastian we knew.”

“I know,” she raised her hand to his, smiling as he looped his other arm around her belly and held her tight. She tilted her head back to rest against his shoulder as he brushed a kiss over her cheek. “I hope he’s forgiven us for not doing more sooner.”

“He’ll have forgiven you,” Ominis said. “He always had a soft spot for you. I rather expect, even after all this time, that he’s still in love with you.”

Dracaena kept her silence. She and Ominis had naturally fallen together towards the end of their sixth year of Hogwarts, their shared experiences and pain leading them to comfort one another, she taking Sebastian and Anne’s place as Ominis’ refuge from his family, moving in together once they’d left the school. In a small way, she was surprised it had taken him as long as it had to propose, presenting her with an elegant ring of emerald and diamond set in white gold six months ago. She’d accepted gladly, though a tiny part of her mourned what that meant for Sebastian.

She loved Ominis with all her heart and more. She adored his gentleness, his respect, his kindness and consideration. She admired his steel, the restrained fury with which he dealt with their enemies, both inside and outside of work, his searing wit and boundless intelligence. She relished his talent as a wizard, and fell in love with him over and over again with each morning they woke beside each other, still spent from their passions, safe in each other’s arms.

But she still loved Sebastian.

Ominis tightened his arm around her.

“It’s alright,” he whispered. “I know how you felt about him. I know how you feel. If things hadn’t ended the way they did, I would have expected the pair of you to be married by now.” He brushed a hand over her hair. “Dracaena… he’s my best friend. I want him to stay with us. We have the room, and he’d be safer than if he was just left to try and survive by himself after all he will have been through. I know you and him well enough to know you’re drawn to each other.”

“But I’m yours,” she whispered, moving his hand to brush over her ring. “Remember?”

He shrugged. “I know. I trust you. I know that if you said nothing would happen between you, I would believe you because it would be true. But you’d be unhappy. You both would. I know you’re not going to leave me for him, Dracaena, but I know you also make each other happy. He’s going to need all the love and support he can get once he’s out. I’d hope that you can give that to him.”

She tilted her head. “Ominis… are you giving me permission to… play away with your best friend?”

He chuckled. “Don’t cheapen it,” his elegant fingers found her cheek, tilting her head so he could kiss her full. “I’m telling you that if you two happen to come together again, I support it. Didn’t you once tell me you’d have liked it if you could have had us both?”

“I was drunk!” she protested, giggling as he dug his fingers into her ribs, ticking her gently. “You can’t use that against me!”

“I can and will,” he laughed, holding her tight. “I mean it, Dracaena. I don’t mind at all, so long as it’s only him. He’s my brother as far as I’m concerned, and I trust you both.”

“You might regret it,” Dracaena warned.

“If I do, we’ll talk about it, and find a way to resolve it,” he said, releasing her at last. “Go on now, you need to get to the dock. Send me an owl once he’s settled.”

“I will.”

He brushed a hand over her cheek. “See you in a week. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

_.-~*~-._

The sky was a stormy grey, and the waves below were similarly sullen. They crashed against the side of the boat, sending salty sprays onto the deck as if it was their mission to knock the vessel off course.

Dracaena sat between two stern faced Aurors, her hands folded in her lap. She’d left her bag at the halfway house, a modest, three-roomed bungalow surrounded by similar buildings, grey bricked and dour looking. She had perched on one of the rickety chairs by the small, circular dining table as one of the Aurors explained to her that Sebastian would be under careful watch for the first year following his release, and any missteps would see him sent right back to Azkaban.

She’d only half listened as he went over an itemised list for what she should do during her week’s stay at the halfway house, pinning a sheet of parchment to the wall with the details. She was only to feed him small meals, as he wouldn’t be able to stomach anything more. Nothing rich, nothing too fatty, and no alcohol. She’d frowned, asking why.

“Because the prisoners don’t tend to eat,” he’d said, gruffly. “The dementors have to force them in order to keep them alive.”

She’d shivered then, and she shivered now, remembering. They weren’t allowed to leave the halfway house, except for at specific times each day to walk around the complex for ten minutes at a time, to build up his strength. She had to write a detailed report at the end of each day to give to the Aurors, describing their conversations and activities. She was sternly warned that if she didn’t, there would be Trouble. Said Trouble was left unspecified, and she didn’t have the heart to ask.

Dracaena shifted, watching as something huge, angular and black began to rise from the waves, impossibly tall, impossibly wide, made entirely of stone. Only a few small windows lay in the surface, like knife wounds in flesh. Her hands tightened in her lap as dread began to seep under her skin, a visceral fear prickling over her neck and shoulders. She was only going to be there for a short time, to bring her best friend home. She couldn’t imagine how Sebastian would have felt, seeing that pillar of misery approach, believing he would never leave.

She loosed a soft breath, eyeing the distant, tattered black shapes swooping around outside it. He would leave. He would leave with her, and everything would be alright.

The boat approached a yawning cavern at the base of the prison, the Aurors casting a Patronus each, a mouse and a raven. There was a dock in the cavern, the blackness chased away by sparsely placed sconces in the damp, glistening walls. Standing there waiting was a hunched little man, balding on top with buck teeth and a sickly smile. He had a Patronus as well, something that looked like a cross between an ailing puppy and a wall-eyed rat.

Dracaena stepped off the boat, shivering, the feeling of dread still creeping under her clothes and caressing her skin. She set her jaw, drew her wand, and cast a Patronus of her own.

An elegant panther touched its paws to the stone, gazing around imperiously as the Aurors and the little man raised their brows, the dread vanishing from her chest as if it had never been. From the shadows around the walls, several rattling voices gurgled and hissed, as if angry.

“Where is he?” she demanded.

“Cell 506,” the little man said, rubbing his hands together with a grin that seemed entirely too cheerful for such a place. “Follow me, my dear.”

The patronuses cast silvery blue light on the walls as they ascended a surprisingly wide staircase, their footsteps echoing. Reaching the first floor, the little man produced a set of keys and unlocked a heavy, barred door.

“No need for magic here,” he cackled. “No one’s got their wands, have they?”

They strode into a cell block, and Dracaena recoiled. The scent of filth was overwhelming, but it was the sounds that chilled her. Her Patronus flickered, moving to stand beside her as desperate sobs filled her ears, tortured cries and garbled, gibbering wails singing in a hellish harmony that echoed off the walls.

The sounds died down as the little man and the Aurors encouraged her on, and though she tried to face forward, to ignore the figures in the cells, she couldn’t help but notice how they scrambled towards the bars, their bony, wasted hands reaching through, stretching for the patronuses as the tattered shadows of the dementors fled their presence. The screams began again as they passed, somehow more agonised than before.

They repeated this four more times, ascending rapidly narrowing staircases and emerging into a new cell block, climbing higher and higher, taunting the prisoners with the promise of relief from their misery in their passing. With each step, Dracaena’s heart beat just a little faster, her grip on her wand increasing, the hackles on her panther Patronus rising as she bared her teeth.

By the time they reached the fifth floor, her palms were sweating. How different would he be? Would the Sebastian she knew and loved still be there, somewhere? Would his eyes still sparkle with the mischief he was so adept at making, at once sliding into fury when he was challenged, and softening whenever he looked at her? She knew he’d be different. He’d look different. He’d act different. But she had to believe he was still there.

No matter her provisions, in the following years, Dracaena didn’t think there was anything on earth that could have prepared her for what she saw when she finally reached Sebastian’s cell.

Unlike so many of the other prisoners, he wasn’t screaming or crying, and he didn’t rush to the bars to feel the passing warmth of the patronuses. He huddled by the wall, next to a narrow mattress and ratty blanket laid directly on the floor. His hair was halfway down to his elbows, thick and matted, almost black with grime. He was dressed as they all were, in a filthy pair of striped trousers and shirt, and they hung loose on his frame. His head was on his arms, resting on his knees, drawn to his chest. The hand she could see was almost skeletal, every inch of boyish puppy fat stripped from his body. His nails were bitten to the quick and filthy, as were his bare feet.

Dracaena raised a hand to the bars, her heart shattering as she took him in, watching as he shivered.

“See, he’s one of the tough ones,” the little man said, with a chuckle. “Just keeps to himself, terribly well behaved. Shame to see him go, really.”

Dracaena tightened her grip on her wand to the point she thought it might snap. She turned to the little man, letting her expression say everything she dared not voice, for if she opened her mouth, she would likely find herself in a cell of her own. The little man seemed to understand, because his sick grin slipped, and he hurried to unlock the cell door. She barged him out the way before he’d even pulled the key from the lock, striding inside and falling to her knees before the broken man she had loved.

“Sebastian?” she whispered, her Patronus sitting in front of the door and glowering. He didn’t move. “Sebastian, it’s time to go.”

He stirred, his fingers tightening on his sleeve. She reached out, brushing a hand over his arm, and he flinched.

“Bassy,” she whispered, the pet name she’d given him both foreign and familiar on her tongue. He tensed, finally raising his head. His chocolate eyes, once so full of life, were dull and defeated above hollow cheeks and a beard that reached his collar. Even so he was familiar to her, the rampant freckles scattering his skin like constellations a siren call to their bond. He blinked, focusing, and didn’t say a word.

“Bassy, it’s time to go,” she said again, cupping his cheek, sliding her thumb over the protruding bone, her fingers winding into the thatch of hair at the back of his neck. He flinched away again, his expression becoming fearful, his eyes darting around the cell.

“Happens sometimes,” the little man said sullenly from beyond the bars. “They forget who they are. Forget who they knew. He’s not said a word in five years, so don’t expect him to. He probably thinks this is some kind of joke.”

She shot another glare that could melt steel through the bars, then shifted her position, grasping Sebastian by the arms and standing, heaving him to his feet.

He came up with almost no resistance, and she staggered, almost flinging him into the air, horrified by how light he was. He made a small sound of muted alarm as he left the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she said, relaxing her grip. She grabbed for him again when he slumped, his legs refusing to support his weight. She glanced through the bars again as the Aurors stirred.

“We’ll have to drag him,” one said. “Prisoners sometimes forget how to walk, or they just don’t have the will.”

“You’re not dragging anybody,” she spat. She looped an arm around Sebastian’s back, bending to catch his legs, lifting him in her arms like a child. He tensed, then slumped, his head lolling against her shoulder. He was so light, so alarmingly fragile, as if he was made of parchment, ready to tear apart at the slightest movement. Her heart broke again, and her Patronus flickered as she cradled him. Without another word, she marched from the cell, heading for the doors, the other prisoners gibbering as she passed, begging her to take them too, to leave her Patronus, to kill them. She paid them no mind, focusing on holding Sebastian tight to her chest, his feet swinging, his breath rushing over her neck. His hands were folded on his stomach, and one of them slid to her, pinching the fabric of her cloak, then holding gently.

She held him all the way to the dock, refusing to release her grip as she settled back on the boat. She raised a hand to his hair, gently running over the back of his head. It left streaks of grime on her fingers, but she didn’t care. A deep, boiling anger simmered in her chest. Anger for what he’d been put through. Anger that anyone was forced to endure such a hellish place. But mostly, she was furious with herself for allowing this to happen, furious with Ominis for knowing what Azkaban was like, and letting him be taken anyway, the word of some unknown person sealing his fate.

It didn’t matter that they’d spent the next six years trying to find a way to free him. The damage had been done. She felt it in his trembling breath, in the way he held onto her cloak so gently, knowing in her bones that it was the tightest grip he could muster. She wrapped her arms around him more securely, resting her cheek against his forehead, whispering soft words of comfort as her collar grew sodden with his silent tears.

_.-~*~-._

Dracaena carried Sebastian over the threshold of the halfway house in much the same way a groom carries his bride. She wasn’t blind to the imagery, and wondered if Ominis would do the same to her once they were married. Would he be able to navigate if his hands were full of her body and not his wand? Probably. He was astonishingly capable, to the point she often wondered if his blindness really was total, like he said. Perhaps he had some Seer blood in him that aided him. It would certainly go a long way to explain how he always seemed to know everything, even things he shouldn’t know.

She kicked the door shut in the faces of the Aurors that had accompanied them.

She eyed the living room of the halfway house, the low sofa facing the kitchenette and dining table. Through one of the doors was a little bedroom, and through the other was a tiny, cramped bathroom. It was towards this that she headed, conjuring a low seat, in which she deposited Sebastian. He was unresponsive as she stood back with a light sigh, gazing down at him and eyeing the stains left on her robes.

She pulled off her cloak and overrobes, standing before him in a simple pair of trousers and vest top, tossing her robes through the still open door, before kneeling down in front of him.

“First order of business,” she said, softly. “We’re here for a week, Bassy. We’ve got a to-do list, but I’ll take care of it as best I can. I’ll need your help, though. Can you do that for me?”

His throat worked a moment, then he gave a tiny, barely perceptible nod. Dracaena loosed a soft breath. At least he was listening to her.

“I think you’d feel a lot better after a shower,” she said, keeping her tone low and soothing. “Would you like that?”

Another miniscule nod.

“Can you take care of that, or would you like some help?”

No response to that. She tilted her head, waiting, her hands on his knees, until he glanced at her, his eyes lighting on hers and flicking away again like a moth fluttering about a lantern. They were still dull and hollow, curtained by the matted strands of his hair. She reached up and brushed a hand over it.

“I think we need to give you a haircut,” she said. “I can’t think of a single brush that can save it, I’m afraid, it's too tangled. Can I cut your hair for you? And maybe this?” she ran her hand over the wild beard. “Much as I think a beard suits you, it could do with a trim, don’t you think?”

A tiny nod, ever so slightly more vigorous than the last. She smiled, and reached behind her, fumbling in the cabinet for scissors.

“I’ll save what I can,” she said, taking a ropey strand of his hair between her fingers. “I can’t imagine you’d enjoy being bald.”

A miniscule exhalation. She tilted her head.

“Was that a laugh, darling?”

He didn’t answer, but leaned forward, resting his head on her shoulder. She set the scissors aside a moment and wrapped her arms around his back, alarmed to feel the bones of his spine poking through his skin. She held him gently until his arms rose, gripping the back of her top with a featherlight touch. He shivered, his breath trembling on the exhale. She held him tighter, pressing her cheek to his.

“It’s alright,” she murmured, circling her hand over his back. “You’re safe, Bassy. You’re out. You’re not going back there, okay? Once we’ve done what we have to here, you’re going to come and live with me and Ominis. We’ll look after you.”

She felt his jaw clench a moment, then he sat back, meeting her eyes properly for the first time. He held her gaze a long moment, before it dropped to her hands, resting on his knees again. He touched her ring, his skeletal fingers brushing over the emeralds and diamonds. He sighed, seemingly caving in on himself.

“Congratulations,” he said, his voice so quiet she could barely hear it over the rasp of his throat.

She could have cried, then. God only knew what he’d been thinking when he was trapped in that cell. Had he been hoping she’d come for him? That she’d have waited for him? Had he tortured himself with thoughts of other people getting close to her, loving her? Had he known on some level that she and Ominis would end up together, engaged, and soon to be married? Had he loved her as she loved him once, and wished it was he that slid the ring onto her finger?

What would he think if she told him of Ominis’ offer?

“Thank you,” she said. Best not to overload him. She should have taken her ring off, but it was too late for that now. She raised a hand to his hair again. “I… I’ll be honest, I’ve never done this before. It won’t be a brilliant job, but it’ll help.”

He gave another miniscule nod, and closed his eyes. She gazed at him a while longer, then picked up the scissors, sliding them through the matted tangle of his hair before closing them with a decisive snick.

_.-~*~-._

Shorn of his beard and most of his hair, Sebastian was beginning to look a little more like himself, though his face was terribly gaunt, his cheeks hollow, the sharp lines of his jaw standing out above his brittle neck. Dracaena vanished the pile of hair with a flick of her wand, then reached over to the bathtub, turning on the shower and holding her hand in the stream until it warmed to a comfortable temperature.

“Shall I leave you to it?” she asked. “I can give you some privacy.”

He didn’t answer, his hollow gaze turned inward, slumping slightly in his chair. She took his chin and tilted his face to hers, waiting until his eyes focused. “Bassy, do you want me to help?”

He blinked, slowly, his gaze turning distant again. With a light sigh, Dracaena lowered her fingers to the buttons of his shirt, slowly prying them open, one by one. At each, she paused, looking at him until he gave a tiny nod. She withheld a wince with some difficulty as she gently pulled it from his shoulders, able to see each rib through his skin, streaked with grime. Her heart broke a third time.

“Can you stand?” she asked, gently. “We should get these off too.” She touched the leg of his trousers. He didn’t answer, so she tucked her hands under his arms and rose, bringing him with her. He leaned against her, his arms rising to clutch at her back again as she nimbly undid the drawstring. The clothing crumpled straight to the floor, far too large for his frame. She averted her eyes, helping him step under the stream of warm water, lowering him to sit, and he drew his knees to his chest.

How many times in her fifth year had she wondered what he’d look like under his robes? Countless times, lying awake at night, or daydreaming in class. Now he was here it felt somehow wrong, like a violation to take the opportunity to drink in his form when he was so vulnerable. So she didn’t look, focusing on his face as his short hair plastered to his scalp, the water turning black as it streamed over his skin. She pressed a washcloth into his hands, and he held it, but made no further move.

“Come on darling,” she murmured. “Help me out a little bit?”

No response. With a soft smile, she picked up another washcloth and slid it over his back, applying light pressure to the more stubborn patches of dirt. Sebastian closed his eyes, resting his head on his crossed arms as she soaped his back, his grip on his own cloth tightening a little. And even though she resisted, scolding herself silently, Dracaena couldn’t help but look at him properly. Under the steadily vanishing grime, his back and shoulders were as freckled as his face, fading the further her eyes travelled down his spine and arms. He was a lot paler than she remembered, but then he’d gone from an outdoorsy, adventurous nerd to a prisoner in a cell, not a speck of natural light to be found. She’d have to make sure there was a decent spot in the garden for him to relax, once they were all home.

She nibbled her lip, glancing at his slender thighs, once thick. No freckles there. A few on his calves, none on his feet. She wrenched her gaze away before it strayed any further, and she slipped a hand under his chin, tilting his head back so she could get to his hair. He closed his eyes with a tiny sigh as she rubbed suds through the thick strands, massaging his scalp gently until she was sure every speck of dirt was gone. She pressed a hand to his collarbone.

“Sit up straight, darling,” she whispered. “I need to get to your chest.”

He acquiesced, leaning back until he overbalanced. Dracaena caught him with a startled yelp, an arm around his back, spluttering a little as her head and shoulders entered the shower stream. His legs stretched out as he slumped against her arm, his head turning to her shoulder, his eyes still closed. She caught her breath, blinking water out of her eyes.

“You alright?”

A tiny nod.

She took a breath, and keeping her gaze firmly fixed above his waistline, she moved the cloth over his torso, trying not to admire the fine hair dusting his chest, focusing on removing every speck of dirt she could see. She took her time, because at some point, she was going to have to try to convince him, again, to help himself. There was only so far she could reasonably go when he was so out of it, despite what Ominis had said.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to look, or to touch… to taste. It wasn’t that she had any problems in taking care of Sebastian in whatever way he needed. It was that he was fresh out of Azkaban, barely four hours free, still confused and addled and traumatised and broken, and she couldn’t assume that he would want anything to do with her at all.

It was still difficult. She shifted, her arm around his back, propping him up as she gripped his shoulder, his head resting against hers, flipping her sodden hair out of her face, her top already soaked. She circled the cloth over his chest a final time, sliding it over his nipple, and he groaned.

The sound was so soft that she thought for a moment she’d imagined it. She paused, swallowed, and repeated the movement. He sighed, tucking his head more firmly against her shoulder, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught a stirring.

Dracaena closed her eyes, willing herself to cool the heat rising from under her collar. She was his friend, that was all, helping him after a terrible ordeal. She couldn’t possibly take advantage of him, not now, not when he was vulnerable and needed her to help him. He wasn’t in his right mind. She had to be strong for them both. In time, perhaps she could, but…

She steeled herself and returned to the job at hand, sliding a bar of soap over his stomach and following it with the cloth. The water ran clear over his body, though it still pooled brown and grimy by his feet and legs, and-

She wrenched her eyes back up, glaring at the pale tiles of the bathroom wall.

“You going to give me a hand?” she asked. “I’m getting soaked.”

Again, no response. He slumped against her, his breathing perhaps a little quicker than before. Hardening herself, Dracaena took the washcloth to his thighs, scrubbing perhaps a little firmer than she had before, tucking a hand under his knee to bring his leg closer so she could still support him. Her back was beginning to ache, bent over the bath as she was, but she ignored the dull fire spreading under her shoulder blades, focusing on her task. All the same, she couldn’t help but notice how he shifted, widening his legs with another soft sigh, his hand sliding over her back to grip at her shoulder as she worked. She slid the cloth over the inside of his thigh, and a soft, almost strangled whimper passed his lips as he tilted towards her.

Dracaena had endured many trials in her life. Stopping a goblin rebellion, defeating a power-crazed, dragon-transformed lunatic set on killing her, as well as countless attacks from poachers and Ashwinders, defeating a powerful Dark Wizard in single combat and more. So much more. Still, if anyone had asked her in the later years what she found the most difficult trial of all, she would have said in a heartbeat that ignoring Sebastian’s throbbing erection as she washed him was among the top three.

She did steal a glance or five. She was only human, after all. And by God, he was beautiful. Not quite as long as Ominis, but thicker, a darker shade, the lush pink of Ominis’ love more a light burgundy with Sebastian, and the way he rested against his stomach, his toes curling as the shower stream rushed over him was more intoxicating than heroin. There was nothing more that she wanted than to wrap her hand around his length and draw him to the edge of bliss, to let him revel in the delights so long denied him, to hear him moan and whimper her name…

Again, Ominis’ assurances that he was not only fine with her playing away with Sebastian, but that he expected it ran through her mind. She loosed a soft breath as she moved the washcloth to his hips, his grip increasing on her arm as his breathing rushed past her ear. She set her jaw.

She couldn’t.

“I need to get some things ready,” she said, firmly. “Finish up, Bassy, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She waited until his grip on her arm loosened, helping him sit upright. It pained her to leave him alone, huddled and defenceless as she strode for the door, wringing water from her hair and drying it with a wave of her wand. But she had to. God and Merlin only knew what she would have done otherwise. He was too fresh, too vulnerable. How could she take advantage of him like that? How could she even think it?

Biting her lip, she settled at the small table and drew parchment and quill towards her, penning a short note.

My darling Ominis,

Sebastian is with me in the halfway house, and all things considered, he’s as well as he can be. I don’t want to alarm you, but he’s lost a lot of weight and isn’t very responsive, and I expect it will take some time before he’s better. You were right, he’s not as we remember, but I feel the old Sebastian is still there, somewhere.

I miss you. I love you. I can’t wait to be home with you.

Dracaena.

She wanted to add another line, clarifying that Ominis had meant what he said, hoping he would change his mind, for if he demanded she remain solely his it would be easier to deny the stirrings she felt for Sebastian. But he wouldn’t deny her, he wouldn’t refuse. He’d almost been insistent.

She sealed the letter instead, opening the door and beckoning the owl perched nearby. It took the note in its beak and flew off, soon lost amongst the clouds. She took a breath, noting the dark figures leaning against the walls of the surrounding buildings, the curtains twitching in windows. She made a face and retreated back inside. Christ, with the number of Aurors surrounding them, it was almost like Sebastian was a mass-murdering lunatic, not a broken man who had paid a price far dearer than the death of his horrible uncle warranted.

She tilted her head as the sounds of running water from the bathroom shut off. She waited as a shadow moved beyond the open door. It seemed that Sebastian could get about by himself if he needed to. That was good. She moved to the kitchenette, opening the cupboards and grimacing. Simple foods like porridge oats, rounds of dark bread and rice nestled beside tins of nondescript meat and vegetables huddled on the shelves. Dull fare for certain, and she wished she could use her Ancient Magic to conjure something more palatable, but it didn’t work that way. Sebastian had always been fond of sweet things, and there wasn’t a gram of sugar to be found.

She pulled a few items down and set about making a simple meal of white fish and rice with a side of green beans, careful not to make too much. He’d need time to adjust to eating real food again, and she had no idea what he’d been forced to eat behind bars.

Dracaena turned at a slight noise to find Sebastian standing in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning heavily against the frame, a towel around his waist. He gave her the beginnings of a tired, shy smile, only the corners of his mouth twitching. She left the saucepan and rushed to him.

“There’s clothes in the bedroom,” she said, leading him, an arm around his waist as he slumped against her. “We’ll have some dinner and get you settled for the night, yeah?”

He nodded, a firmer, more decisive action than before. Depositing him on the bed, which creaked, she ferreted around in the old wardrobe, bringing out a selection of shirts and trousers.

“Any preference, or are you not fussy?”

He blinked slowly, his eyes on her, seemingly indifferent about the clothes in her hands. With a shrug, she picked out a dark shirt and pair of trousers, leaving them on the bed.

“I’ll leave you to it, darling, if you need-”

His hand found hers, and she paused, turning to him, finding the corners of his eyes glimmering.

His lips parted, his throat working a moment before his voice found its way out, hushed and rasping.

“This… is real? You’re… really here?”

She knelt before him, taking both his hands in hers.

“Of course it’s real,” she whispered. “Bassy… Ominis and I have spent the last six years trying to find a way to free you. You didn’t deserve what happened to you, you didn’t deserve Azkaban. You’re coming home with us, and you’ll never go back, alright?”

He nodded again, a tiny smile touching his lips.

“You… got me out?”

“I’m sorry it took so long,” she said. “We had to bully a lot of people, rewrite some laws, and build a case. It took ages, Bassy, but we never gave up. We just wanted you home with us.”

“And…” he drew a breath, as if the act of speaking fatigued him beyond all reason. “Anne?”

Dracaena hesitated. She knew this would come up, but she’d hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. The reason for his fighting, the reason for his research, the reason for his mistake. How could she tell him that the curse that plagued his sister had taken her life three years ago?

It would break him. Destroy him in ways that Azkaban never could.

“Time enough for that later,” she said, forcing a smile onto her face. “What’s important right now is getting you back on your feet, alright?”

It was a poor answer, and she knew it. Sebastian had never been one to let things lie, least of all something as important as his twin, whom she had buried with Ominis on a beautiful hill overlooking Feldcroft on a blossom-strewn spring morning, the pair of them shedding silent tears not just for the senseless loss of life, but because it meant everything Sebastian had sacrificed had been for nothing. But Sebastian didn’t question her further, merely nodding again and releasing her hands, reaching for the clothes.

Dracaena returned to the kitchen in time to put out a small fire that had started in the pan. She swore and pulled out another tin of white fish, vanishing the blackened mess with a wave of her wand.

Sebastian joined her at the small table not long after, clinging to the walls and countertops to support himself until she hurried over, pulling his arm over her shoulders. Though his first mouthful of food was hesitant, he soon fell upon it like a man starved, going so far as to toss his fork aside and eat with his hands. Once he was done, he held himself still, staring at his plate before the hollowness returned to his eyes, and he withdrew into himself, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, staring at nothing as Dracaena pushed her plate aside, her appetite quite gone.

“You should sleep,” she said, softly. She rose and took his hand, drawing him to his feet and tucking an arm around his waist, leading him to the bedroom. She sat him down, helping him unbutton his shirt, pausing as she reached the hilt of his trousers.

“There’s… there’s pyjamas and things in the wardrobe,” she said. “I can get them for you?”

Sebastian didn’t answer, his eyes dragging with tiredness, but his hand snared hers as she rose.

“Stay?” he rasped. “Please?”

It took every ounce of her self-control to refuse.

“You’ll be alright,” she said. “You’re safe here, Bassy.”

His throat worked a moment, and he nodded, his hand sliding from her grip. Dracaena returned to the living room, setting the dinner things to wash and settling down on the sofa, conjuring a blanket and removing her clothes, lying down in just her underthings.

Ominis was on her mind as she settled to sleep, wishing he was here with her. She longed to feel his elegant arms around her, to reassure her, to comfort her as she wept silently for all the pain their dearest friend had endured.

_.-~*~-._

Dracaena work to darkness and agonised, desperate screams.

She bolted from the sofa, her heart in her throat as she tore towards the sound, her mind conjuring horrors beyond mortal imagining as she burst into the bedroom. Sebastian was huddled in a corner, his arms splayed against the walls, his knees drawn to his chest, his eyes wild as he tried to press himself through the brick and plaster, cowering away from something she couldn’t see.

“Sebastian!” she dashed over, grabbing for his shoulders, and he lashed out, howling, the side of his hand connecting with her temple, and she saw stars. Shaking herself, she grabbed for him again as he fought against her, yelling wordlessly. “Sebastian, it’s me! It’s alright! Calm down, please!”

He pushed back against the wall, soft, keening sounds wrenching from his throat, his eyes unseeing as she wrapped her arms around him, gasping comforting words into his ear. Eventually, his arms rose to encircle her, burying his face in her shoulder and weeping helplessly.

“It’s alright…” she murmured. “It’s alright, darling. There’s nothing here that can hurt you. You’re safe.”

Sebastian just cried, clinging to her as she settled on his thighs, wishing she could hold him tighter, wishing she had more arms to wrap around him, to hold him more securely than she could, her hand circling over his back, the other wound into his hair as he sobbed into her shoulder.

“It was just a nightmare, darling,” she murmured. “That’s all. Nothing more. You’re alright.”

It took a long time before Sebastian was able to calm down, his frightened sobs becoming whimpers, quietening to harsh breaths as he grasped at her back, shivering so hard she thought he could power a small house.

“What was it?” Dracaena asked, leaning back a little and cupping his face. “Darling, what did you see?”

He shook his head, his face tear-stained, pulling her back to him and resting his head against her shoulder again.

“I-I’m… sorry,” he managed.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” she assured him. “Bassy, I’ve no idea what you’ve been through, but I’m here to help you. Tell me what you need.”

“Stay… with me,” he whimpered, holding her as tight as he could, though the strength of his arms was little more than strands of silk. “Please, Drac… Don’t leave me alone.”

With a muted nod, she tucked her hands under his arms again, levering him upright and guiding him to the bed, laying him down and tucking him in, before settling atop the covers. Sebastian turned over, his arm looping over her side.

“Will… you be… warm enough?” he whispered.

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “Get some rest, love, I’ll be right here.”

“Come under,” he insisted, snuggling closer to her. “Please, Drac. I… I haven’t touched… another person in… years. I… I-I need to be close… to you.”

She hesitated, and Sebastian huddled up to her, his hands tight at her back, his skin fire against hers.

“Drac… I-I’m sorry, I-I know you’re… with Ominis, I don’t want… to upset you… or spoil that. I-I just need… to be close to you… please. I don’t want to be alone.”

Setting her jaw, Dracaena slid under the covers, wrapping her arms around him as he snuggled into her, his head against her collarbone, his body pressed to hers, almost as though he needed to become a part of her, to meld his flesh with hers, the pads of his fingers digging into her back.

She held him tight as he shivered, wishing she could take the pain he suffered and draw it into herself to shield him from the horrors he had endured. But she couldn’t. She could only lie there, holding him, stroking his hair as he pressed his face between her breasts, his skeletal frame wracked with shudders as guilt seared through every fibre of her being. She pulled him closer, and he groaned softly.

Dracaena couldn’t ignore the hardness that pressed against her, as much as she wanted to. Despite Ominis’ assurances, she needed to be strong, to show him she cared for Sebastian as more than just a vessel for carnal pleasure. She didn’t need that. As she was with Ominis, her own bliss mattered less than that of her partner, her delight being in when she brought him to the edge of paradise and sent him over, soaring on clouds of ecstasy. Would it be so wrong to gift the same to Sebastian, when her fiancée had condoned it?

Sebastian groaned softly, the tip of his erection nudging against the soft flesh of her abdomen, straining against his pyjamas. He nuzzled against her breasts, only the thin lace separating their skin. Dracaena drew a soft breath. No matter her concerns, perhaps this was what he needed. Had she not vowed to care for him, no matter what he needed? Her hand slid over his side, over the ridges of his ribs, gliding over the hollow between them and his hip, coming to rest on the sharp protrusion of bone. Sebastian whimpered softly, tilting his body towards her hand.

“Are you sure?” she breathed. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes…” he whispered, the word ragged, forged from a throat too unused to speaking. “Please…”

Still she hesitated, preferring to caress his body, worried that it would be too much for him, worried that no matter his assurances, Ominis would be hurt if she allowed herself to indulge, but Sebastian clung to her, the little strength he had poured into pulling her closer.

“Drac…” he whined softly, writhing against her as her hand sculpted over his chest and stomach. “Please, Drac… please, make me feel human again. Please, please touch me… please… I’ll do anything… I just… I need to feel alive again.”

And hell, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to make him feel good after everything he’d been through. She cupped his cheek, turning his face to hers, pressing her lips to his with a softness akin to featherdown and satin. But he responded with fire and fury, his hand clamping against the back of her head, pressing her close as his lips worked magic over hers, scattering the last of her restraint as she wrenched him to her.

His breath came in sharp gasps as she pushed his clothing aside, her hand dipping down to caress the length of him. He tensed, a low moan rising from his throat as she graced her hand along him, before his grip at her back tightened, and he flexed his hips, thrusting into her palm, each movement accompanied by a gasp.

“Please,” he whimpered. “Make me feel good, make me feel right… make me feel real, Drac, please.”

Dracaena sealed her lips to his, drawing his breath into her and sending it back as heaven and light, her hand gliding along his throbbing length, her movements careful and controlled. Sebastian loosed a long, deep moan that seemed to rise from the bottom of his lungs, as if such a sound had been too long caged and finally set free. He sank back to the pillows, his limited strength seemingly spent, his eyes rolling back as his lashes fluttered, and she favoured him with kisses that peppered his face and chased over his neck, pausing only at his chest to swipe her tongue over his nipple. Sebastian groaned, his head rolling from side to side, one hand at her shoulder, the slight pressure increasing as she kissed down his taut stomach.

She could take him any way she wanted. She could pin him down and ravage him until he forgot his own name, she could bend him backward and bury his delicious cock in her throat, she could even turn him over and work a magic inside him that she was certain too few wizards had ever had the fortune to experience. But Dracaena bore down on her desires. Too much could break him. There would be months, years, perhaps, in which she could show him all the wonders she had learned since being with Ominis. She could show Ominis what she learned from Sebastian. She could learn from them both, together, but only if she treated them right.

Sebastian moaned like a starved whore when she flicked her tongue over the flushed head of his cock, his head pressing back into the pillows, his free hand grasping a fistful of the sheets as she slowly kissed along his length. She tucked a hand under his hips as she nuzzled the inside of his thighs, taking a moment to savour the desperate sounds pushed up from the depths of his being, the hand at her shoulder moving to the back of her head, his grip weak but insistent.

She couldn’t deny him any longer. Dracaena flattened her tongue against him and drew it slowly to the tip, already weeping with slick, crystal fluid, his ribs expanding and contracting with each rapid, short breath, his stomach hollowing as his hips bucked towards her. Her free hand found his, and she laced their fingers together as she took him into her mouth at last.

Seven years of longing couldn’t have prepared her for the feel of him against her lips, sliding over her tongue, invading her throat, the deliciousness of his fevered skin, the subtle, peppered tang of his love so similar and yet so different to the gentle salt and sugar of her Ominis. Sebastian’s back arched, his legs falling apart, his hand winding into her hair as his grip on her hand trembled, his thighs beginning to quiver as she flicked her tongue over the underside of his head, so sensitive after so many years of neglect, his voice a wordless song of ecstasy. She sealed her lips and drew them along his shaft, rewarded by a series of frantic moans that rose in fever and pitch. She wanted to pull back, to slow down, to make him wait, the dominant side of her fighting for control, but even she was not that cruel. Instead she bobbed her head faster and faster, lashing her tongue against him until he all but screamed, his hips rising from the bed as his back arched in a curve Fibonacci would be envious of, the beautiful, creamy thickness of his passion coating the cavern of her mouth.

Dracaena drained him of every drop as if her life depended on it, relishing the way he quivered and whined, his body tensing and relaxing with each new flick of her tongue until she raised her head at last, his pale, freckled skin flushed a gorgeous rose, an arm draped across his forehead. She slid up his body to lie beside him, brushing his hair back and wrapping her arms around him as he curled into her, panting.

“You okay?” she breathed, and he huffed a breathless laugh.

“If… if I’d have known… if I had to go… to Azkaban for that…” he nuzzled into her. “I’d have… gone… long ago.”

Dracaena chuckled softly, winding her hand through his hair as he relaxed against her.

“Drac,” he murmured. “I… should have… told you. Back then… I should have said…”

“Shh,” she whispered. “You need to sleep, love.”

“I know,” he replied, already drifting. “But… I should have said… I love you, Drac. I… I always have.”

She held him close.

“I love you too,” she breathed as he slipped into sleep. “Forever and always, I love you.”

Masterlist

Part 2

[little-emerald-snake]

Ominis x f!mc where mc is giving body worship and praise to a very flustered and touch starved Ominis Mayhaps

Touch Starved - Ominis Gaunt X F!MC

Holy smokes I’m sorry this took me AGES to write. I wanted to do this justice and I’m really hoping I did. 💕

🔥 NSFW 🔞 MDNI

Warnings: sort of sub Ominis, seduction, body worship, praise, more poetic and less raunchy than my usual, unprotected p-in-v

1.8k words

He’d been quiet the whole week, she’d seen it in the way he’d struggled to focus on books and assignments. Or the way he’d space out in the classes they shared. He’d occasionally fallen asleep but she’d never known the wizard to slack off in class.

After their grueling hour of History of Magic where Ominis had spent the entirety of class awake but off in a daze, unable to answer the questions he was called upon twice to answer, she pulled him aside to find out what was wrong.

He toyed with his wand between his fingers as he anxiously tried to explain what was going on with him. “I’m not sure honestly. I just can't seem to focus. I haven’t been sleeping that great and when I do I get very strange…dreams.”

She laid a gentle hand on his arm which caused him to startle. He quickly shook his head and let his shoulder fall, face reddening rather quickly. “Sorry. It’s really not you, I just…I’m not sure, really.”

Her brows furrowed when her eyes made another sweep over the entirety of him. As if he could feel her assessing gaze he spun suddenly on his heel, pulling his wand up and stepping a few feet away to the large pillar of the undercroft. “I promise I'll come out of it. I just need…to get things figured out.”

She didn’t like the struggle laced in her friend's voice, it seemed like he was closing himself off to her. She made her way up to him, laying a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him but he jumped again, recoiling from her touch with a small whimper.

She spun him, grasping his shoulder firmly as she did till he faced her, face flushed, hands balled into fists. His breathing had sped up and she looked him head to toe, finally seeing his ‘issue’. “Merlin, Ominis. Is that what’s wrong? You’re all worked up and ignoring your body's needs?”

He scowls, not moving from her grip but standing rigidly in front of her. “I don’t have the time for silly things like that. It’s not necessary.”

She grins wickedly, making a snap decision and pushing him against the pillar behind him. “Is that so? Well I find myself having plenty of time for self gratification. It definitely helps my mood and I don’t get ‘dreams’. Maybe it would be good for you to give in, Ominis.”

He winced when her hand brushed against the waistband of his trousers, quickly followed by a gasp when her finger dipped between his stomach and the fabric. “W-what are you playing at? W-we shouldn’t be talking like this.”

She grinned again, running a hand up his chest which had a sharp intake of breath echoing in the room. “I simply think you shouldn’t ignore your body's desires, Ominis. It’s a friendly recommendation. I can tell by your reactions how desperately you’re craving my touch. When’s the last time you’ve been held, Ominis?”

He wriggled away from her invading finger in his waistband but she grabbed his tie and pulled him back, pressing her breasts harshly against his chest while tugging at his trousers. “Or has no one held you close while they praised you and made you feel good?”

His blush spread from the base of his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, closing his eyes tightly. He was so incredibly hard it hurt. But he didn't fight as she led him to the plush sofa in the corner.

She gently pushed him down onto it, letting her hands gently land on his chest as she kneeled on the couch between his legs. “For so long I’ve wanted to feel you…you’re always hiding in those robes.”

She licked her lips as her hand came to tug off the ties of his robe, letting it fall behind him uselessly. “The slope of your shoulders.” Her hand brushed over his right shoulder. “Your sides that I know are ticklish from Sebastian’s tales.” Her hand slid over the curve of his side and he softly whined, pushing his legs around her knee tightly. “And you’re slender hips…”

She slid her palm over his hip, feeling the way his hips raised ever so slightly from the sofa. “Does it feel good? Being touched like this? Being admired and doted on.”

His response was only a small whine which made her smirk. Boldness had her finger trailing down his thigh, over his knee and ever so carefully up the inside of his thigh. Ominis’ hips lifted again in eager anticipation. “You’re so beautiful like this. Flushed and needy for touch.”

He swallowed harshly as he felt her raise her wand, tapping his shoulder which left him bare from the waist up. He whined, desperately attempting to cover his slender yet muscled chest.

She held his hands out of the way so her eyes could eat up the cool expanse of creamy white skin. Heat flared in those eyes as she connected the trail of beauty marks from his stomach all the way over his chest, up his neck and to the ones she could see on his cheeks every day. “Let me see you. You hold such a beautiful constellation of stars.”

He swallowed, finally letting his hands shakily drop to his sides. “W-what are you talking about?”

She smiled, letting her fingertip rest at the first mole above his belt line. “A constellation. Like the ones we study in astronomy. It’s a trail of stars that make up a pattern in the sky. You have the cutest moles that make a constellation on your skin.” Her finger began to glide over the trail, stopping briefly at each one so he could feel exactly where they were. “One of the prettiest I’ve ever seen.”

The gasp that left him was the prettiest sound she’d ever heard. Her hand trailed the path again, setting his nerves ablaze. She could feel how impossibly hard he was in his trousers. “You like being told you’re beautiful don’t you? Does being loved like this excite you?”

He groaned, rutting up against her leg. “Y-yes. Okay? Are you satisfied now? You’ve turned me to a needy mess. You proved your point. I’m hard as fuck and wired up at your teasing touch and poetic words. Just…have mercy.”

She hummed, leaning down to lick a thick stripe up the side of his flushed neck. His back arched up as a fiery shot of arousal coursed through him. He moaned when the still air became well acquainted with his legs due to a simple touch of her wand.

He had been ready to speak up but he’d lost the wind in his sails as she pushed her hand between them, grasping his proud erection and beginning a slow stroke over the entirety of his shaft.

She tilted her head up enough to whisper against the shell of his ear. “You asked for mercy. But I think I’d much rather show you heaven.”

With that her own clothes were gone and she moved to straddle him. His hands came to grip her hips but she quickly pulled his wrists together, holding them above his head under one hand.

He didn’t fight but the flustered look still controlled his features. His mouth hung open, milky eyes even hazier than usual, the heat of a blush dominated his porcelain skin.

A gasp left him when their bodies joined in what Ominis could only imagine people felt when giving the simple definition of ‘white hot heat’. His hips flexed, glutes tight as his body urged him to buck into that blissful embrace the space between her legs offered.

He moaned brokenly as delicate finger tips traced over what she’d described as constellations. Her finger followed the same paths as it had before which meant she wasn’t doing it for show. She really did see something special that attracted her across his body.

It brought a shaky breath from him which had her sighing and rolling her hips atop him. A flash of something crossed over him and for only a moment he’d swore she’d fucked the sight back into him.

But nothing compared to the visions his mind conjured when a roll of her hips elicited a silky moan from her, causing her hands to release his arms and firmly plant on his chest for stability.

Those hands burned like fire on his skin. He was so worked up from her treatment that it made a pool of arousal begin to form at the base of his spine.

When those fingers started moving again he whined. Not louder than the praises she uttered.

“Your skin is delicate, like a flower petal. Seeing you blush is…otherworldly.”

“You feel so good inside me. Not just there…in my chest. I didn’t know it would feel like this with you.”

“You’re so beautiful falling apart under me…I-i won’t last long.”

Her music had him grinding his heels against the cushions below them, hands finally free to do as he wished he cupped one breast in one hand and held her supple hip with the other.

She moaned, causing his fingers to tighten on her hip. His other hand explored her chest, massaging her breast, rolling the peak between his fingers and eliciting more symphonies from betwixt her lips.

He was overwhelmed, but nothing compared to when he felt her weaken, body language changing as her moans peaked and the rolls of her hips turned to stuttering. He took the opportunity to rut up into her and make her sing as she turned to liquid heat around his cock and cried out spectacularly for him.

He stilled when she went limp in his arms. Crashing against his chest with a boneless demeanor. She gasped and panted, catching her breath slowly. But he had to shut his eyes tightly when she urged him to keep going beneath her.

Grunts left him as he worked his hips much slower this time. Feeling every single ridge inside of her slide against him with a maddening sensation.

Oblivion was far closer then he desired, his stomach tightened, leg muscles flexing in an attempt to stave off the inevitability of his release.

She must have sensed his inner turmoil, small hands dragging over the sensitive spots again while both of his dug so deeply into her hip bones there was sure to be bruising.

She coaxed him through it, praising him for how incredible he felt and how badly she wanted to see him meet his end while buried to the hilt inside of her. The gentle swipes of her hands over his heated skin and the soft coos of approval dragged him over.

He arched, mouth falling open as a string of moans, whimpers, curses and bliss echoed through the charged air around them.

Both spent and satisfied, she remained laid against his chest with him slowly softening inside of her as she traced those lines across his skin. This, was his bliss.

[whizzing-fizzbee]

Laundry Day

Sebastian Sallow x F!OC

Rating: Explicit/MDNI; all characters are adults Words: ~3,300 Tags: MDNI, smut, light dom/sub, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, third person POV

Summary: Sebastian Sallow's clothing continues to disappear from the laundry and he can't figure out why. Once he discovers the truth, he gets repayment for his missing wardrobe. A brief continuation of Death By A Thousand Freckles.

Notes: This is just a quick little random nonsense sequel to Death By A Thousand Freckles, though you don't necessarily need to read that first. Nothing too out of the ordinary, and now I'll return to writing inbox requests. ❤️

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

Sebastian Sallow could have sworn he’d sent three green sweaters to be laundered that week. It was one of the many perks of being a Hogwarts student. The school house elves did the laundry twice per week, magically whisking away all the clothing and returning it clean and neatly pressed.

But only two green sweaters were returned to Sebastian today. He frowned as he dug through his trunk in search of the third. Perhaps the house elves had lost it, though he’d never heard of such a thing happening. The house elves were meticulous and organized, but Sebastian decided it would be quite easy to mix up the students’ uniforms. It wasn’t like Sebastian was the only seventh year who wore Slytherin sweaters. Still, it struck him as odd that various items of his wardrobe were vanishing without a trace.

It started with his house scarf. It went missing at the start of the spring term, but Sebastian assumed another student had mistakenly picked it up.

But then his button-down uniform shirts started to disappear. He wasn’t particularly fond of those, but he needed them for classes. But every other Slytherin owned the same shirts, so perhaps there’d been another mix-up.

It wasn’t until his quidditch jersey went missing that Sebastian became aggravated. He began to suspect that one of his roommates was playing a prank on him.

“Have you seen my laundry?” he asked Ominis Gaunt one morning.

Ominis scowled at him. “I don’t see much of anything,” he answered smoothly. Sebastian sighed.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “What I meant was, has any of my clothing wound up with yours?”

“Can’t say it has,” Ominis responded.

“Well, has any of your laundry turned up missing?”

“Can’t say it has.”

Sebastian groaned, but decided to let the matter drop. But one by one, piece by piece, more of his clothing items disappeared; so much so, Sebastian had to make a trip into Hogsmeade to buy more. But whenever he brought the matter up to his friends and roommates, they all shrugged and insisted they hadn’t taken anything.

It was maddening. Sebastian began to wonder if he was losing his mind. 

One day, he decided to wait on the house elf in charge of his laundry. Sebastian lounged impatiently in his room until the unsuspecting elf wandered in. 

“There you are!” Sebastian exclaimed, causing the poor elf to squawk in surprise. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Mister Sallow,” the elf said as it bowed to him. “Pebbles is just here to fetch the laundry.”

“Thank you, Pebbles,” Sebastian said kindly. “But I was wondering if you’d seen some items of mine. I’ve lost quite a few articles of clothing and they always seem to go missing on laundry day.”

Pebbles’ eyes grew wide. The tiny elf shrank backward toward the door in a panic, causing Sebastian to narrow his eyes in suspicion.

“Pebbles,” he said as gently as possible. “What do you know?”

“Pebbles can’t say!” the elf squeaked. “Pebbles promised the nice girl. She made him swear.”

“Nice girl?”

“Yes, Mister Sallow. The nice seventh year… also in Slytherin… always kind to Pebbles and always has bubblegum. She swore Pebbles to secrecy.”

Bubblegum. Of course.

Sebastian rocketed himself off the bed and scrambled for the door. “Thank you, Pebbles!” he called over his shoulder as he hustled into the corridor, leaving the poor elf flustered.

Sebastian made a beeline toward the girls’ dormitories, where he knocked on the second door on the right.

“Open up!” he called out. The door swung open and he was met by a scowling Imelda Reyes.

“She’s not here, Sallow,” Imelda huffed. “And if you barge your way in here again, I’m going to hex you all the way to Clagmar.”

Sebastian sighed. “Sorry,” he said as he backed away from the door. “Do you know where she is?”

“Try the library,” Imelda shrugged as she eyed him sharply. “And try doing your laundry for once. You wore that shirt yesterday.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes and left for the library.

As soon as he strode between the row of long study tables, he spotted her. His girlfriend, Emilia, sat quietly as she flipped through her Muggle Studies book. And she was wearing a green sweater that appeared to be two sizes too large for her.

Sebastian sat down across from her, the scrape of his chair grating loudly across the wood floor. Emilia winced as her head snapped up.

“Sebastian! Where’ve you been? You missed breakfast.”

“I didn’t have anything to wear,” Sebastian replied simply. He could swear he saw the traces of a smile tugging at the corner of Emilia’s lips.

“Oh?” she asked innocently. “Did the house elves forget to do your laundry?”

“That’s what I was trying to figure out. I had to ask Pebbles.”

Emilia pursed her lips to suppress a smile. Sebastian could see the muscles in her face twitch. “Oh?” she continued. “Is Pebbles the laundry elf?”

“You tell me.”

Emilia cocked her head to the side playfully. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Sebastian’s eyes fell pointedly to her chest. “Let me guess,” he said. “You’re also not sure how you ended up wearing my sweater.”

“Oh, is this yours?” Emilia asked innocently. She dipped her head to study the fabric. “I had no idea.”

Sebastian gazed at her in exasperation. “Come on, Em,” he sighed. “Fess up.”

Emilia finally flashed a full smile, rendering it impossible for Sebastian to remain cross with her. “Okay,” she laughed. “So maybe I borrowed a few of your shirts and sweaters with Pebbles’ help.”

“A few? Em, I barely have any clothes left.”

“Oh. Sorry.” She was looking far too amused for Sebastian’s liking. Not the least bit remorseful.

“So are you going to give me my clothes back?”

“I will in due time,” Emilia answered casually. “But right now, I need to finish studying.”

Sebastian blinked at her. She loved to get under his skin; not that he minded, but he was also running out of clothing to wear.

“Alright fine,” Sebastian said as he rose to his feet. He leaned across the table to press a kiss to her cheek and smiled innocently at her. “See you at dinner, darling.”

As Emilia returned to her reading, she failed to notice that Sebastian didn’t actually leave the library. Instead, he slipped up the spiral staircase to the second floor, where he peered down at her from the railing overheard.

“Retexo,” he whispered as he pointed his wand at Emilia. A magic, invisible thread connected the tip of his wand to her. He could feel a faint tug, ensuring the spell had worked. Now, he just had to stand back and wait.

He watched Emilia study for another twenty minutes or so. He admired the way her eyes scanned the pages of her book, her lips mumbling the prose quietly to herself. Light from the library windows poured over her frame, her dark brunette hair glimmering with just the right movement of her head.

He couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to call her his girlfriend. But ever since that day in the quidditch locker room showers, they’d discovered a new level of affinity that left them more attached than ever.

But for as much as Sebastian loved and cherished Emilia, he’d be damned before he let her off the hook for petty theft.

So when Emilia rose to her feet and gathered her books, Sebastian smirked. He watched as she pushed her chair into the table and turned for the library doors. 

She didn’t notice at first. With each step further from where Sebastian stood with his wand, her sweater began to unravel from the hem upward, pulling and pulling until her midriff was showing. 

Sebastian used his wand to give a sharp tug, straining the emerald thread harder. Emilia was halfway to the door when she finally realized half her sweater was missing. She gasped as she stopped in her tracks to examine herself, a nervous flush creeping over her cheeks. Other students looked on in amusement, a few giggles echoing across the library.

Emilia’s eyes followed the thread across the library and upward until she met Sebastian’s laughing gaze above. He winked at her and flicked his wand. The thread tugged again, revealing even more of Emilia’s torso. 

“Sebastian!” she hissed loudly, drawing more snickers from the students seated nearby.

Sebastian doubled over in silent hysterics as tears of laughter filled his eyes. Hurried whispers rolled over the room, indicating that Madam Scribner was coming.

Emilia frantically fished her wand from her bag. “Diffindo!” she hissed. The long thread severed, leaving it dangling from the tip of Sebastian’s wand. He flicked it casually to disconnect it, the green strand fluttering to the floor as Emilia made a rude gesture with her hand toward him before attempting to storm out.

“Miss Bell!” Scribner’s voice was short and shrill, an indication she was particularly agitated. Emilia heaved a sigh and stopped in her tracks, waiting for the librarian to scold her. “Miss Bell, what is the meaning of this? What happened to your jumper?”

“Sorry, Madam Scribner,” Emilia said with as much sincerity – and dignity – as she could manage. “I guess a loose thread must have snagged on my chair.”

“Loose thread? My dear, there are barely any threads left! You’re showing a dangerous amount of skin and causing quite a distraction. Do cover yourself up and sort out your… wardrobe malfunction immediately.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Emilia shot Sebastian a scathing glare. He chuckled and hurried from the library before Madam Scribner could catch on to his antics. He could see Emilia’s retreating form across the Central Hall. She was heading toward the nearest girls’ bathroom.

Before he could catch up to her, she disappeared inside. Sebastian stood just outside the door, waiting patiently as he leaned against the wall nonchalantly. 

Suddenly, the door swung open and a pair of hands seized the front of his robes, dragging him inside.

“What are you doing?” Sebastian cried out. His eyes widened as he realized Emilia was standing completely topless and bare in front of him. The sweater – or what remained of it – was tossed atop a sink.

“Give me your cloak,” Emilia ordered. 

“What? No! You’ve already nicked enough of my clothing!”

“And you ruined my sweater!”

“Your sweater? Don’t be so dramatic, darling. Just Reparo it and get on with it.”

Emilia shot him a deadpan stare and pointed her wand toward the sweater. “Reparo,” she said blankly. Nothing happened. Sebastian cursed. “It’s beyond repair.”

“Yes, I see that now,” Sebastian sighed.

“So give me your cloak,” Emilia repeated. “Unless you want me parading topless all the way back to the common room.”

Something stirred within Sebastian. He smirked with his arms folded across his chest. 

“And you think I’m just going to hand over another article of clothing, after everything you’ve taken from me?” he mused.

Emilia blinked. “Seb, this is an emergency! Quit playing games.”

“Oh? And what about when I had to make an emergency trip to Gladrag’s because I ran out of shirts to wear?”

“That’s different!”

“The hell it is.” The wheels spun in Sebastian’s head at breakneck speed, hurtling them both toward something much more salacious than some stolen garments. This was too perfect of an opportunity to squander. Of course, he’d ultimately give Emilia his cloak, but she’d have to earn it. After all, it was no secret he liked it when people were indebted to him, even his own girlfriend – especially his own girlfriend.

“You can have my cloak,” he purred. “If you give me something in return.”

He didn’t need to elaborate. Emilia fully understood his implications, because she understood Sebastian. She thought how he thought, spoke as he spoke, and behaved as he behaved. Most people found it endearing. Ominis called it alarming.

This was their game; their own intimate way of passing the time; their favorite cat-and-mouse dynamic for keeping the other on their toes. 

“Really, Seb?” Emilia groaned. “Here? In the blasted bathroom of all places?”

“Why not?” Sebastian murmured, reaching to snake his arms around her waist. “After all, you’re already half undressed.”

He leaned in to press a kiss just below her earlobe. Emilia’s resistance waned entirely.

“Fine,” she sniffed, her fists balling the front of Sebastian’s cloak. She tugged him into a forceful kiss, the tattered remains of the sweater forgotten as a familiar ache sprawled between her thighs. Sebastian's cloak crumpled to the tile floor. 

Sebastian smirked into the kiss, one hand drifting from her waist upward to her breast. The chill inside the bathroom went forgotten as his warm palm cupped her, his thumb gently teasing across her nipple. 

“What’d you steal all my clothes for anyway?” Sebastian murmured gently as his eyes scanned her body. 

“Because they smell like you. And I like to be reminded of you,” Emilia answered simply.

“Darling, you see me every day.”

“I know, but I like to think of you even when you’re not around.”

Sebastian smirked. “I’ll give you something to think about for days, weeks even,” he breathed in her ear. “Something much more satisfying than some ratty old sweater.”

He kissed her until she was spineless in his arms, guiding her backward until the cool porcelain sink pressed against her lower back. 

“But I like those sweaters,” Emilia protested. 

“And my uniform shirts? And my favorite scarf?”

“Sharing is caring.”

“And what are you going to share?”

Emilia smirked in response. She rocked onto her tip-toes to kiss him again, her tongue dragging against his bottom lip with deliberation. Though she knew Sebastian wasn’t actually cross with her for stealing half of his wardrobe – he’d give her anything she wanted – she figured it would be fair to provide him with some repayment, especially when the investment would serve them both.

Emilia’s hands found Sebastian’s belt buckle, though her twinkling eyes remained on his. She could undress him with her eyes shut by now – and she certainly had before. The buckle clinked apart and a swoosh of fabric and hungry hands left Sebastian bare below the waist. He was already hard.

The moment Emilia’s hand gripped his erection, Sebastian groaned. His head dipped backward and his eyes fell shut as she stroked him, her soft thumb swiping across his tip. Her hand pumped faster until Sebastian was panting, his abdomen tight with a cresting release.

Hands suddenly spun Emilia around so that she was pinned forward against the sink, her wide eyes peering at her own surprised reflection in the mirror. Her skirt was hiked up and her panties were pulled to the side as Sebastian’s fingers snaked over her folds. He hummed at her wet arousal.

Emilia held her breath, anticipating the intrusion of Sebastian’s cock. Instead, he sank two fingers inside her, his other arm hooked around her waist as his own reflection smirked at hers. 

“You love this, don’t you?” he murmured as he watched her teeth drag against her own bottom lip. She whimpered in response, her walls clenching around his fingers in a silent plea for more friction. Sebastian curled his fingers and pumped his hand.

Emilia moaned as Sebastian’s free hand drifted to her breast, plucking at her nipple as the fingers of his other hand continued their rhythmic pressure. They paused only to press against her clit, sweeping long, fluid swipes until Emilia could feel the muscles tense from her core to her thighs. 

Her white knuckles matched the porcelain as she gripped the sides of the sink, the mounting climax ready to breach its dam. Sebastian’s erection pressed against her ass as he held her close, ready to feel her entire body quiver against his. When it finally began, Emilia’s cry rang across the bathroom while Sebastian’s fingers scraped a searing sensation from her clit. She doubled over the sink, her knees threatening to fail until the shiver subsided.

“Merlin, you look so stunning when you come,” Sebastian croaked. He lined his impatient cock against Emilia’s slick entrance and sank inside before she could catch her breath. “Fucking hell,” he sighed with content.

Emilia’s back arched and her eyelids fluttered shut as she moaned, her walls stretching to welcome Sebastian’s cock. His hips snapped forward until he set his preferred pace, burying himself to the hilt until he retreated to repeat the motion. When his stare searched for Emilia’s in the mirror, he sank his fingers into her open mouth, eliciting an unsuspecting gasp.

“Open your eyes. I want you to watch me fuck you.” It wasn’t an ask. Emilia nodded silently, her obedient eyes locked on his as Sebastian’s slick fingers continued to part her lips. 

He fiddled with the knot in his necktie, his hips still rocking against her until the green fabric was loose in his hands.

"Give me your hands," he ordered, reaching for Emilia's wrists. "You like wearing my clothes, huh?" he said as he tied them behind her back. He thrust hard, drawing a breathy moan from her.

Sebastian groaned at the vision before him; Emilia looking so submissive and seductive, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy, her features contorting the closer she reached toward her climax; and there he stood, looming behind her as she whimpered and whined while he ruined her. The mirror and its frame became a portrait; a masterpiece that could only be named Sin Incarnate. 

Sebastian reached for her throat and Emilia swallowed, sending a fleeting pulse across the curve between his thumb and forefinger. Her gaze narrowed as she struggled for composure, her weak legs ready to quit as he plunged into her plush folds.

The vibrations from Emilia’s gurgled moans coursed across Sebastian’s hand until he was grunting with glee. 

“Just like that,” his voice rumbled against her ear. He gave her neck a gentle squeeze and could feel her body respond, her cunt clenching in arousal around his cock. His pistoning hips became erratic, indicating his impending undoing. But as the sounds of the sharp snaps of their union bounced off the tiled walls, Emilia’s eyes lingered on their forms.

“You like watching yourself?” Sebastian observed. “You like seeing how good I fuck you?”

He rolled his hips and drove himself hard through her walls. Emilia’s bottom lip was raw and red, but her teeth continued to gnaw as she inched closer to her edge. Sebastian’s bedroom eyes studied her reflection until he could see the familiar expression creeping across her features. 

“Going to come for me? Go on, then. Let’s both watch you give in. Then I'm going to come in you and you're going to wear me."

His cock speared her until the tip drove into her sensitive spot. Emilia’s mouth fell open and her back arched, a primal cry chorusing across the bathroom as her body obeyed. Sebastian thrust so hard, her feet nearly lifted off the floor, her pulsing walls coaxing his own completion.

His hips pinned Emilia hard against the sink as he spilled inside her, her tired legs struggling to keep her upright as her thighs became slick. Sebastian’s frame slackened when his peak subsided, his chin resting atop her shoulder as they both recovered.

The bathroom returned to its still state, the only sound now the occasional creaking of pipes. 

Sebastian pressed a final kiss to the back of Emilia’s shoulder, his eyes still smirking at her reflection as he loosed his necktie from her wrists.

“Now, about my sweaters… and shirts… and scarf,” he started as he backed away to redress. “You’re going to return them, right?”

Emilia’s reflection pouted at him. “Don’t you think I earned them?”

Sebastian didn’t answer until he was fully clothed, stooping down to pick up Emilia’s skirt and undergarments. When she reached for them, he pulled them away and flashed his teeth.

“Tell you what,” he drawled. “I’ll keep these for now and I’ll give you my cloak. You wear that – and only that – for the rest of the day, and we’ll call it even.”

He winked at her and darted from the bathroom.

[cuffmeinblack]

A Date, Of Sorts

Ron Weasley x f!reader

Summary: A chance encounter, a sympathetic ear. You find Ron Weasley drinking alone, a burnt out Auror burdened with heavy expectations. Once he opens up, the night takes you elsewhere.

Tags: explicit | post-Hogwarts | sex | cunnilingus | alcohol

2.9k words

A/n: For @ellivenollivander 🖤 I love how this is the fault of the Ominis server of all places. Despite the thing that got me writing was sub!Ron, I ended up writing this absolutely shameless self indulgent smut fic.

The Leaky Cauldron, London. Neither very grand, nor particularly cosy, absolutely terrible for conducting private business, and yet witches and wizards flocked to it like moths to a flame. You supposed it was convenient for the Ministry, given how packed it currently was with smart robed administrators with pinched faces and even the odd member of the Wizengamot or two. You were here for someone in particular, and yet after a careful sweep of the crowds, he eluded you. You considered that perhaps he'd been held up at work, deciding to settle down at a dark and dingy corner of the bar to wait.

The barman looked at you expectantly as he wiped a pint glass with a dirty cloth, your lip curling in faint disgust you were too slow to hide. “Butterbeer,” you requested, wishing it was something stronger. Keeping your eyes peeled for your date, you kept yourself busy by idly fiddling with the hem of your skirt whilst taking in the ambience—if it could be called as such. The old pub was dilapidated and held up by more magic and willpower than by the crumbling oak beams, yet you did admit it held a certain charm. Your eyes drifted down from the flickering lights and caught on something warm and familiar; a burnished copper mop that glinted amber and gold and reminded you of sticky toffee… “Ron?”

He hadn't heard you—though it was certainly the boy you'd gone to school with—clearly busy nursing a glass of what looked like whiskey with too much ice. You kept your eyes down, surreptitiously glancing across the bar whilst grabbing your butterbeer with clumsy fingers and shoving a pile of knuts on the counter. The barman grumbled, ignored. 

Oh, it was Ron Weasley, alright. So many years later, he'd not changed in all the ways that mattered. A sip of beer masked a smile, sticky sweet foam coating your lips, but your blush felt far too obvious. Lucky, then, that he appeared so deep in thought, so enraptured with his own fingernails. 

No wedding ring.

Ron sighed and picked up his glass and you instinctively copied him. He threw the rest of his drink down, wincing slightly at the burn before signalling the barman—who seemed far more genial towards him than yourself—for another. Whatever had him here, had him drinking for comfort; for solace. Now that you were really looking, you noticed how downcast he appeared, the once easy smirk he wore wiped clean from his face. The slight shadows under his eyes spoke of sleepless nights; the black suit of an Auror, top button popped open, the obvious culprit.

“Ron?” You tried again, and this time he looked up, slightly dazed, clearly not expecting to be addressed despite the busy pub filled with his colleagues. His eyes were blue and red; beautiful and sombre. A spark of recognition finally passed after a few agonising moments, and he offered you a sincere smile. Your name rolled off his tongue and you nodded—yes, it's me.

“Hey.” His voice was gravelly with drink. “Now there's a face I haven't seen in a while.”

He looked you over, unabashedly, as you'd done only moments before, eyes leaving a trail of prickled skin in their wake. 

“Likewise. Working at the Ministry?” you asked cheerfully, but it was clearly the wrong thing to say. Your question prompted another gulp of whiskey. “Sorry, bad day?”

“Bad day, bad year. But how about you? What are you up to these days?” He deflected easily, suddenly giving you his rapt attention. You told him the usual story—you were a healer at St Mungo’s, caring for the sick was your calling, and so on and so forth. You might have seen a flicker of doubt in his gaze, but he only smiled and nodded, eating up every lie you had, ravenous to hear anything but his own story. He pushed his hair out of his face as if willing you to keep looking, and that's when you realised he was using his routine on you. That's also when you remembered you were waiting for a date, a thought that almost sent butterbeer dribbling down your chin.

“What are you, really? Go on, you can tell me. My lips are sealed,” he slurred. He looked at your lips as he said it, and you looked at his.

Unfortunately for him, it would take more than mere flirting from an old crush to get you to dispense with your secrets. An Unspeakable is discreet, even in the face of adversity (and gorgeous redheads).

“I promise you I am a healer, despite my clear disregard for my own health and wellbeing,” you said, gesturing to your third—or fourth—glass of beer. 

“I think the most you'll get from that is cavities.” He laughed, and it sent you back in time to those days at school before everything went so horribly wrong. 

“I'm better at mending broken bones than hearts but if you wanted to talk…”

“Is that what you think I have—a broken heart?” Ron grinned, wide and bright, and you melted despite your foolishness.

“Is it not? Sorry, I just assumed the whiskey and general demeanour—”

“Okay, alright. Glad to know you noticed me being a sulky git. Truth is, my job really takes it out of me sometimes.”

“I can imagine,” you said quietly. In fact, you knew exactly what he meant. “Is being an Auror not what you expected?”

“I’d say it's exactly what I expected. The problem is, after everything that happened everybody expected me to do this, you know?” 

You nodded, fighting the urge to look away. Ron may have looked startlingly similar to his sixteen year old self—bright eyes; crooked smile; fiery, untameable hair—but despite the years that had passed he had a weariness about him that belied his true age. Once he'd started there was no stopping him, words pouring forth as he reached desperately for catharsis. He'd wished he'd taken a different path, and looking at him now, you had to agree with that assessment. Ron Weasley didn't suit the stifling crush of the Ministry.

You reached across the bar and put your hand on his, a gesture most unexpected and yet felt right for the moment. If your date happened to turn up now, then so be it. Ron looked at where your bodies joined with the slow sort of realisation of someone unused to physical affection—or maybe it was the firewhiskey. Everything certainly was quite hazy now. There was a soft glow around the edges of your vision that enveloped you in a warm hug of intoxication. The weak alcohol told you that anything was possible—even holding Ron Weasley's hand.

Ron cleared his throat, and for an awful second you thought he was going to pull away, not pull you closer. But soon you felt his callouses brush your palm as he turned over his hand and guided you closer, the hot tang of whiskey on his breath and smoke lingering in his hair—not the kind of tobacco smoke that clogged your lungs but the unmistakable scent of fire, of magic. You wondered what he'd been doing that day, why his coat was singed and he had the slightest hint of a bruise blooming on his cheek, but then he was kissing you.

His lips parted, soft and supple, coaxing you to respond amongst your shock. You tilted your head—an invitation—and he smiled against your mouth, sliding a hand onto your knee with only thin nylon between you and his burning palm.

When you pulled apart, both breathing heavier than before, it took a while to focus your eyes on his heavy lids that suggested he wanted much more than just your kiss. Despite his drunkenness, Ron kept his hand a respectful distance from your lap, despite your growing urge for him to venture higher and relieve the throbbing ache between your legs. He licked his lips and smiled.

“Do you do that to all the girls that lend you an ear?” you asked quite breathlessly.

Ron chuckled and smiled that crooked smile that set your pulse racing, but his answer was sincere and serious. 

“I always fancied you, know. At school.” He shrugged, a hint of boyish charm and feigned innocence. “And thanks for listening. It's not often anyone thinks to ask.”

His fingers still burned a brand into your thigh; so distracting was his hand's presence that you almost forgot to reply. 

“You're welcome,” you replied weakly. To your dismay, he knew damn well the effect he was having on you. Even more horrifying were the words that spilled from your mouth next. “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?” What in Merlin's name possessed you to say that?

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

You'd asked and he'd accepted, and your fate was sealed. Though there was no promise of anything more than quiet company the expectation hung thick and heavy in the air between you. After that kiss, how could you think clearly about anything other than how they'd feel on your body? 

You walked in the chilly night, wind battering the comfortable jacket of warmth the alcohol had given you until you were startlingly sober by the time you stood on Ron’s doorstep. By then you didn't care much—apprehension had made way for giddy excitement and lustful want. Reminiscing on old times and flirtatious banter continued into the hallway, which was much more tidy and homely than you'd expected. There wasn't much time to take in the decor before your lips were fused once more. 

Pressed against the wall with a dado in your spine, you were now reminded just how tall he was, towering above you and blocking the ceiling light like an eclipse. Your neck craned to kiss him, a gentle finger tilting your chin, a leg slotted between your own. Not enough pressure to relieve much of anything, only an enticement. His hands roamed whilst tongues entwined, and you moaned softly into his mouth once he found his way underneath your top, skimming the waistband of your skirt. You'd thought he might be fumbling, a little awkward, but Ron surprised you with his gentleness, his teasing strokes. He grazed the dips of your waist, groaning low with approval as your hips rocked of their own accord. 

His hair felt like spun silk, copper strands falling over his eyes as you displaced them. Laboured breaths and moans filled the cramped hallway, your skirt hitched around your hips and his thigh pressed tight against your aching centre. You might've let him take you there and then if he'd not pulled away. You felt like you'd been slapped, so sudden the absence of his lips was that you opened your mouth in protest before realising he was taking you to the bedroom with a smirk to end all debate. His red and kiss-swollen lips and mussed hair had you practically skipping behind him, falling into his arms and onto the bed as soon as the door shut. 

“I thought we were just coming here to lament about our jobs some more,” you said with a pout. 

You were on your elbows, looking up at him, half undressed and flushed as he knelt before you with a hand on his belt buckle. He stilled, looked at you and raised his eyebrows. 

“I mean, we can do that instead if you want.” He shrugged. He shrugged. Then his fingers slipped inside your knickers with one swift motion and his face split into a shit-eating grin. He didn't need to point out how aroused you obviously were, but he did anyway—something about being ‘soaking wet’ before he plunged his fingers inside you and silenced any retort. Not that you could have thought of one, given how addled your mind was as he curled his digits almost languidly. Your back arched, head thrown back against the mattress as you looked up at him, surrounded by a dim halo of light. He'd abandoned his attempts at undressing himself, fixated on your every reaction to him. You swore his eyes were now a darker grey, a swirling tempest as he drank you in, rather than the baby blues you'd been so enamoured with. 

“Ron…,” you managed to sigh between the pumps of his hand.

“You’re gorgeous.” The words dripped in what sounded like awe, coaxing a whine from your throat. 

Your body shifted and squirmed beneath him, desperate for more and he heard your silent plea. You thought he would finally shed his pesky clothes, that damned black suit that clung to his body so delectably, but once again he surprised you by dipping his head and disappearing from view.

“Ro—oh fuck.” 

His fingers remained buried to the knuckles but now the warm, wet swipe of his tongue sent your head spinning. Deciding that the bunched fabric of your underwear was far too impeding, he swiftly pulled them down, discarding them to the floor before laying flat on the bed. He shifted to get himself comfortable as you watched, waiting, gripping the bed sheets in eager anticipation. Ron spread your legs, looking up through blond lashes and holding your gaze as he buried his mouth between your thighs. Your knuckles paled, cotton straining in your grasp as his tongue flicked lazily over your clit. Just the right amount of firm pressure, testing the waters. 

He quickened, flicked and swirled his tongue, reacting to every heightened moan until he knew exactly how you liked it. By then you were close to the blissful end, your climax only a lick away, and you moaned his name so loudly the walls should have shattered. You came hard, fingers threaded through his hair and eyes locked on his, asking him without words to please don't stop as wave after wave swept over you. You felt him smile against you as he sucked until you squirmed, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

You were staring at the ceiling again, wondering when your ears would stop ringing, when the mattress shifted and Ron’s face loomed into view.

“That good, huh?”

You licked your lips and sighed in response, only now noticing he'd finally shed his shirt as you let your eyes fall on the expanse of freckled skin. He'd filled out since those school days, with broader shoulders and muscles you swore he'd not possessed even in his prime as a Keeper. Your palms flattened against him; firm and irresistible. 

Lower they roamed until you found his belt, the buckle clicking as you made quick work of it, moving onto his trousers whilst Ron watched you, apparently fascinated. Knuckles brushed his cock straining against the fabric as you loosened every button, only taking a second to run a teasing thumb over the head before his mouth crashed into yours. Your surprised gasp was muffled, twisted into desperate whines as he kicked off the last of his clothes and planted himself between your legs all whilst your tongues danced and gasping breaths mingled. A press of his thigh spread your legs wider, his erection grinding against your overly sensitive clit. Fuck, he’s big, you thought with a pleasurable squirm of excitement in your abdomen.

“Ron, please…”

That smile again, a flash of amusement before your eyes fluttered shut as he pressed inside you. Slowly, deliberately, with moans of pleasure from both sides, his cock stretched you so satisfyingly an inch at a time. “Fuck, so good. You feel so good.” The praise rolled off his tongue and he kissed you again, sloppier this time; a brush of lips and heavy breaths, sharing each other's air. Your fingers entwined in his hair as he finally, mercifully, started rolling his hips. He held you firm with bruising fingertips against your hips, speaking of restraint you wish he didn't have, but oh, it felt glorious. He hit all the right spots, his steady pace building you up for another explosion of pleasure.

“Right there, yes, more.”

Harder, faster; you witnessed Ron let go of the last of his self restraint, pounding into you with such reckless abandon you could no longer breathe, let alone form coherent sentences. You managed to cry out a string of yeses until your orgasm enveloped you once more and your body convulsed, toes curling and back arching, but he didn't stop. Towering over you with flames framing his face, mouth agape and eyebrows peaked. “That's it, come for me…fuck, I'm so close.” He chased his release with brutal thrusts, gripping your hips so hard you felt bruises blooming, until finally he came with a shuddering moan and your name shouted for all to hear. 

Somehow, it sounded right. 

He could have rolled over and asked you to leave; there were no expectations, no pressure from either of you to stay entwined for longer than necessary, yet that's exactly what you did. Long after your breath had steadied, he held you in those strong arms, still flushed beneath the smattering of freckles. This chance encounter had reawoken a flame from former years, and you'd never been so grateful for a date not to show. If just for one night, it had been unexpectedly perfect.

“So, fancy dinner tomorrow night?” Ron's voice drifted into your ear as you felt yourself lulling, and you turned to see him grinning like an idiot; a picture of the schoolboy you once knew.

Full of surprises.

“Yeah, go on then,” you replied in an equally casual manner. You both laughed, somewhat shy and giddy. 

“Wicked.”

[thirstingfortoxicmen]

Can I request an Ominis Gaunt x Male Reader? Where the reader is really pent up and just needs a break and Ominis gladly helps reader turn his brain off. (Dom Ominis and Sub Reader) please

Yes absolutely 👍 just a warning ive never done sub reader so... we shall see how this goes! (also it deleted my progress so this is me starting over😭)

(oneshot) 🔞🔞🔞

You feel so Beautiful🔞

Dom Ominis x Sub male Reader

(not my photo)

---

“ughhhhhh…” WHAM! my head hits the desk, rather hard but alas still not enough to swindle my headache. Unfortunately, I had woken up with a headache and people have been feeling extra dumb today, which was not helping. I squeeze my eyes tightly closed and hope to Merlin everyone goes away so I can pass away… swiftly… please? I quickly realize there is no god as i get a rude tapping on my shoulder. I take a deep breath in and raise my head from my desk only to find… the godstones kid again.

Dear Merlin I swear if thi- she interrupts me before I can spit my thoughts out, “I need your help, some kids took my gobstones again.” I deadpan.

“Have you even looked yourself, because last time i helped you it took me no less than 5 minutes, basic magic, and simple common sense.” I ask, headache brewing up a storm of death and suffering.

Her face flushing at the (accurate) accusation, “I- well its just- umm… no.” She practically mumbles the last part, she starts shuffling her feet back to the door she marched through feeling so courageous just a second before.

“yeah that's what I thought,” I mutter to myself, as she swiftly leaves the room.

“That was rather odd, what did she want?” I hear Ominis ask. He takes his seat next to me,

“Sebastian being out sick has made me realize how many bothersome people beg for my attention, her for example, wanting me to find her gobstones… again,” I sigh as I say it. Ominis chuckles at my frustration.

“That's true, Sebastian is a great guard dog that is for sure.” Ominis’s hand finds my thigh and he starts caressing it gently, sliding me closer to him. I rest my head onto his shoulder, headache dissipating slowly but surely. Also slowly but surely I feel Ominis creep his hand higher up my thigh.

“Ominis… class just started dont start teasing me now,” as I whisper that into his ears I feel his smirk grow across his face.

“Whatever could you mean,” the sarcasm audible in his voice. I see him flick his wand slightly and as I was about to ask what he'd done I felt a disillusionment charm wave over our laps. My eyes grow wide for a moment only to force my face back to normal so as to not draw attention. My cock twitching against my pants as Ominis teases me. My face had bloomed into a bright shade of red as Ominis pretends all is normal.

“Ominis please…” I beg softly, thanking Merlin that we sit at the back of the class.

“Professor, could I please be excused to Madam Pomfry’s my eyes seem to be bugging me.” Ominis speaks up.

“Yes of course Mr. Gaunt, here let's have someone help you there. hmmmm, Mr. L/n how about you help Mr. Gaunt to Madam Pomfry’s.” the professor declares.

“Yes Professor,” I manage out. My lower half now throbbing with anticipation. I quickly gather our stuff and pretend to guide Ominis to the hall, door shutting behind us. I follow Ominis as he leads me to the Undercroft. He grabs my collar pulling me close.

“Just let me do everything, alright.” Ominis all but demands. He pushes me lightly against a wall, grabbing my chin with one hand the other pressing against my erection. I exhale at the pressure, hearing that Ominis pulls me in and we kiss deep. His tongue working his magic. His hands float down below, freeing his member first then mine. Both of us red at the tips, after almost 30 minutes of teasing. Precum leaking onto the floor as Ominis grabs us both, the action causing me to groan into his mouth. We part for a breath of air. “Accio desk,” Ominis pants out. A desk from nearby pulling up behind me, he sits me on it. Slowly he starts stroking his one hand stroking both erect, leaking cocks. My hips stuttering into his hand as I grow close to the edge.

“Ominis please!” I moan out, his hips stuttering when he hears it. “I'm getting close!” We start making out again, his tongue now scouring my mouth.

“God you feel so beautiful,” Ominis groans into my ear. Like a switch flipping my eyes flutter and I moan out softly, holding onto Ominis’s shoulders I cum. Ominis looking frustrated and on the verge triggering me to hop off the desk and down to my knees. I move Ominis’s hand off his cock and take him into his mouth, he grabs my hair and forces me down. Gagging on him I look up at his face and see a flushed face. Tears welling in my eyes I hear, “C-cumming!” I wait until he finishes before removing my mouth and swallowing. “You did so amazing my dove,” Ominis says. Helping me to my feet I cast a cleaning charm, the mess vanishing. “We should probably go back to class now,” Ominis says whilst holding my face in his hand.

“Ugh, don't remind me.” I say over exaggerating my face. Ominis laughs, having felt my face move.

“Darn…”

“What?”

“It seems my eyes still hurt,” A smirk growing across Ominis’s face.