#subastian

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Certified Good Boy Posture™️

[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

[musette22]

https://x.com/collitwhatyou/status/1838418667341566401 this gif is giving a bit of 2019's MH cover shoot moment with neckline, cute pliant Subastian❤️

I immediately thought the same thing! It's so cute to see him stay perfectly still while people fuss over him ❤️❤️ Such a good boy, pur Subastian. There's just no other way to say it (and I doubt he minds 😉) [X]

[animasola86]

Kinktober: A Filthy Fantasy (2/2)

Notes: Thank you again to the lovely @amberlide – who graciously gave me the detailed outline of this little story and inspired me so much! Thank you for sharing your idea and letting me turn it into whatever this is. I hope I could do your idea somewhat justice! (And I'm sorry if I didn't >_>) --- (Here is Part 1.)

And I've ticked even more boxes for @kinktober2023, beware!

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!reader x Ominis Gaunt

Genre: Smut // Words: 4.6k // [READ ON AO3]

Warnings: NSFW! MDNI! cnc/rape fantasy. bondage. sensory deprivation. threesome. oral/vaginal (f!receiving), anal (f!+m!receiving). Dominis/Subastian.

Synopsis: After that fantasy you talked about came to pass a little unexpectedly, you find yourself in a Slytherin sandwich.

Warning: Three heads are better than one. Or something like that. Technically it's two heads that come to play here, so beware: there be smut below!

-- read Part 1 here --

A Filthy Fantasy (2/2)

The table you found yourself tied to was moving back and forth, pushed rhythmically from either side by powerful thrusts of hips – and eerily enough, you could tell who was doing what to you by now, no matter how often they would switch. By this point you were a writhing mess, covered in cum and saliva, and despite your fucked-out state, you were wondering how it had come to this.

It had started with an idea, a filthy fantasy, that you had forgotten about. Luckily your eager boyfriend had been happy to remind you and had snatched you off the streets of Hogsmeade to play out a scenario he had planted in your head about losing control, where tied to a chair and being blindfolded and at the mercy of a stranger was supposed to be sexy and scary at the same time.

It had taken you a lot of convincing until you were finally at the more or less sexy stage of this play. After he had hung you to the ceiling, ripped your clothes off, teased you with just enough touches (and a knife) to keep your mind occupied, until he had put you stomach-first on a table, forced your legs open, put a plug up your butt and fucked you completely senseless. Oh and don't forget the snake he had successfully tried to scare you with, he... or his best friend.

You remembered very clearly now that having another person in this room with him was not part of the initial plan. And yet here you were, ankles and wrists tied to the legs of the table as they both approached either side of your body. You couldn't see them and they didn't say anything, but you knew they were there. You felt one pair of hands on your hips and then suddenly there was another, much more hesitant hand on your chin lifting your head up.

While their intentions seemed rather straight-forward, you kept thinking back why Sebastian would invite Ominis to this little scene. Racking your brain, you tried to remember if you ever mentioned that little crush you had on his best friend back in your fifth year. You probably had and even though it had slipped your mind because you stopped thinking about the blond boy the moment your heart was lost to the brunette, it seemed that Sebastian's memory was impeccable.

But why would he get him involved in this?

Before you could ask yourself more questions you did not have any answers to, you felt something hard pressing against your wet folds. At this point you were quivering badly, the anticipation alone causing your slick to drip to the dirty floor below you. Your pathetic noises filled the room and unlike the last time he had taken you in this position, you were ready and wanted it and needed it, that unresolved tension in your stomach hurting more than anything he could do to you now.

He seemed to sense your eagerness and didn't wait at all as he drove his length into your tight channel, coaxing a moan out of you that was immediately silenced as you felt the tip of another cock pressing against your lips. As much as you had anticipated and somewhat imagined it, feeling and sensing and tasting it so close was highly overwhelming for you. You'd only ever had Sebastian fill you up and you were very familiar with the shape and feel of his cock, but this one felt so different and that alone seemed to spike your need for it.

Before he could do anything, you had already closed your lips around his tip and tried to suck him in deeper into your mouth. And when you heard that little moan echoing down to you, you were absolutely sure it was Ominis, even doing primal noises you'd recognize his sophisticated voice anywhere. You almost chuckled against his heated skin at the thought. Though that moment of amusement quickly disappeared as he started pushing his length all the way to the back of your throat, the grip of his fingers on your chin tightening.

You gasped and tried not to gag around him, but as Sebastian started falling into a rapid rhythm behind you, almost slamming your entire body forwards, you were practically forced right against the blond boy's groin, squirming and whimpering as you felt him press into your throat. You felt him stepping back and releasing you, giving you a tiny moment to catch your breath as you coughed and sputtered, but not enough to fully relax as he grabbed your chin and forced his tip past your lips again, holding your head up to push in deeper.

With both boys assaulting your body from both sides at the same time, you were quickly overwhelmed and barely able to breathe, yet somehow they seemed to fall into a rhythm, one would push and the other retreat and then vice versa and your body would be pushed up and down the table, until it was the table that moved over the dirty floor, creaking and squeaking as you would whimper and squeal.

And again they would drive you to heights you could almost grasp at, desperately trying to reach, but before you could, you felt them both pull out, leaving your mouth covered in saliva and precum and your cunt quivering with your wetness bubbling out helplessly. You'd hear their footsteps and before you could realize it, they had switched.

A warm, not at all hesitant hand grabbed your chin and forced your head up before you felt a more familiar cock push past your lips. Your whimper turned into a moan as you felt two delicate hands on your waist before they not so delicately pulled your body onto an eager cock that drove itself almost seamlessly deep into your clenching channel and immediately prodded at your cervix, causing ripples of goosebumps to wash over your limbs.

Despite the clouded state of your mind and the tremors rushing through you, you couldn't help but compare the two cocks currently assaulting you. What Ominis' seemed to lack in girth, he made up in length as it didn't seem to take him much to keep hitting that sweet spot all the way inside you with almost precise snaps of his hips. Sebastian's however filled your mouth with all he had and when he forced his tip into your throat, you felt him shuddering at the tightness.

You gagged around him, helplessly writhing on the table, unable to convey your discomfort in any way with your arms and legs tied to the table. All you could do was whimper and groan against him and eventually he complied and pulled back, allowing you to splutter and cough, as you took panicked breaths. He even caressed your hair gently for a moment, before he went right back into his role, grabbed your hair and forced his cock back into your mouth.

Whimpering with tears spilling past your blindfold, you gave in, trying to focus on your clenching walls instead, and indeed, suddenly, completely unexpected (even though long desired) you felt the tension inside your stomach snap and explode into tiny little pieces of light as your release washed over you, tightening your grip on the cock still slamming into you that suddenly halted and a somewhat pained groan rang in your ears.

There was a pause, even though you didn't really care as you embraced that sensation of pleasure for as long as you could, because you knew it was a rare thing to have in this situation, and you felt a jerk rushing through the body connected to the cock in your mouth – and no second later, you felt a powerful thrust pushing right against your cervix, blinding you with another explosion of bliss as you felt the other boy painting your walls with his seed, groaning deeply as he gripped your waist and shuddered against you.

You shivered, unable and unwilling to squirm as you took it all, and you didn't even notice how both of them stepped away from you once more, only when you felt and tasted a cum dripping cock pushing onto your tongue, you realized they had switched again. Almost automatically you flicked and swirled your tongue around the agitated tip, licking and sucking him clean and dry, while your quivering cunt was filled once again, pushed to its limit with more powerful thrusts.

Breathing loudly through your nose, you kept your lips strained around the throbbing length in your mouth, swallowing around him as saliva and more cum filled you to the point that you were barely able to hold it in any longer. The table scratched over the floor and pushed you firmer against the blond, as the brunette behind you picked up his pace, his deep grunts telling you that he was close as well.

He held onto your hip with one hand as you felt his other moving to your long forgotten and neglected clit and as soon as he touched the throbbing bundle of nerves, you squealed against the cock in your mouth and squirmed against the table, and together with his rough rubbing motions and the rapid thrusts you were driven into that blissful void once more, your moans and whimpers barely audible with how stuffed you were.

You felt your walls clenching tightly around him and he growled in response, increasing his tempo until he slammed into you with such a force the entire table shook and pushed against the boy standing on the other side, who grabbed your hair in support, coaxing even more noises out of you as his length slipped deeper into your throat. Your breath literally hitched and the sensation of it all pushed you right over the edge into what you could only describe as oblivion.

You barely registered how Sebastian filled you up with his seed now, mixing with Ominis', coating your insides in a thick layer of cum as he groaned with every twitch of his cock as your walls assisted in squeezing and milking every last drop out of him. The pressure on your throat lessened then and you found your mouth unoccupied again, spit and cum dripping down your chin as you took deep, shuddering breaths.

Your mind was too clouded to hear the hushed voices behind you, yet when someone pulled at the object in your ass that you had almost forgotten about, you gasped and a cold shiver rushed down your spine, bringing you back slightly. You felt a finger circling that tight ring of muscles and you squirmed tiredly, whimpering softly. Your throat hurt and was barely able to produce sounds any more and you almost knew it wouldn't manage to form words either, so instead of protesting, you just let it happen – whatever was happening.

Something cool and wet rushed over your heated skin and eager fingers massaged your rear, kneading your flesh, and then two thumbs pushed at your other hole, coaxing a strangled sound out of you as they carefully pulled it apart. You felt your walls clenching as your cunt quivered below, either happy for the break or disturbed about the attention now focusing on your ass.

You heard a groan and the thumbs halted their movements on your sensitive skin as you felt a body pushed closer between your legs, the sudden movement sending a ripple of goosebumps over your limbs.

“What are you doing?” you heard Sebastian's strained voice behind you, low and hushed, turned away from you.

“What I told you,” Ominis replied equally quiet and you couldn't help but hear an undertone in his voice you hadn't heard before. Something dark and sinister.

“That wasn't –”

“Yes, it was,” he interrupted the other boy harshly. “Anything I say, remember?”

There was a pause, then a grunt of approval. You were so invested in hearing those familiar voices while you still tried to calm your heart and breaths, that you were absolutely not prepared for what happened next. Your body was pushed forwards and your mouth fell open as a silent noise of both surprise and pain tried to push through your sore throat. Nothing prepared you for the tight pressure as you felt the tip of a cock forcing its way past that violently clenching ring of muscles.

You wailed soundlessly, pushing your head into the hard surface of the table, your hands gripping its legs so tightly you could feel your fingernails digging into the wood. A pained grunt accompanied your own noises of discomfort and you felt two hands holding onto your waist tightly as the tremors of another body pushed into yours. As he slipped deeper into your other hole, a sensation you never wanted to experience, he folded his body over yours, trying to ease the movement by slipping a hand back down to your cunt, but no touch could ease the pain you felt at the unfamiliar intrusion.

Silent tears soaked into your blindfold as he rested his entire body on your back, his hands moving up to grab and caress your face as you felt his lips on your ear, soothing you with low hums. He kissed your cheek and his words caused you to gasp softly.

“You and me both, love,” Sebastian said quietly, his voice strained and unusually tense, and for a moment you wondered about the meaning of his words, before he groaned into your ear as another force pushed you both over the table.

You felt his pain because it was yours as he pressed in deeper, burying himself in that tight space, and as he didn't move at all against you, you slowly realized that it must be Ominis who –

The image of the blond boy standing behind the brunette who was bent over just like you burned itself into your mind and the sheer fantasy of it caused your cunt to quiver some more. You couldn't even describe it, but the idea of being so connected with both boys (well that should have been Sebastian's thought as he was the one in the middle) made your legs twitch in a sort of pleasure that felt deranged and extremely arousing at the same time.

You weren't given the chance to think about it more as you felt Ominis pushing against (and probably into) Sebastian and in the wake of that move, Sebastian pressed harder into you. Your combined moans rang in your ear, the sensation so overwhelming it started to numb your senses for a moment. That rhythm continued until it turned into the rapid slapping of skin against skin against skin as they started to move in unison, and with you being the last element of this whole ordeal you could only moan and whimper and hope the table wouldn't break under the impact of those slamming hips.

At one point, Sebastian would lean back, the loss of his warm body on yours making you shiver, and put his hands on your hips as you heard him grunt and growl and moan and gasp behind you while you barely heard Ominis' noises who seemed too concentrated to guide you both to heights none of you had ever experienced.

You wished then that you could see the exertion and pain and pleasure on Sebastian's face – only a fair exchange for all the things he had done to you today. At the same time you wanted to comfort him, share the pain because you did share it already, hold him and caress him and wipe the sweat off his forehead. But alas, you couldn't, you were still the victim tied to the table, blindfolded and robbed of all control – and you could only hope it would end soon.

There was no pleasure on the horizon for you, you just knew it, despite the attempts of your body to adjust to the strange intrusion, but somehow you didn't need it. This wasn't about you any more. You remembered his words then, all those weeks ago on the couch in the Undercroft, and suddenly you realized that it had indeed been his filthiest fantasy he had tried and succeeded to convince you to do because now he was at the mercy of somebody else, he was losing control and it seemed to arouse him a lot more than it aroused you.

And that thought turned you on more than his cock pushing in and out of your ass. You wanted him to reach his release so badly, not for it to end necessarily, but for him to feel good about himself as well. Even if it had taken him a while, he had managed to coax one or two or three orgasms out of you, and it was only fair if he experienced the same.

You didn't know if it would work, but you tried to clench your insides, any muscle that could be clenched, trying to squeeze him even more as you worked your backside against him. You heard him groan deeper and louder and you knew the louder he got, the closer he was. Whimpering through your own pain, you pushed your hips upwards slightly and he only gripped them tighter, pulling and pushing them against him until you felt him shuddering against you.

Instead of burying himself as deeply as possible, he pulled out slightly then and you felt him throbbing around your tight skin as he pumped his seed into you, the warmth of it not quite soothing the burning sensation the constant friction had left in you.

Without warning he fell onto your back then, knocking any air out of your lungs as you gasped and screamed breathlessly when he drove himself deeper once more, his own groans loud in your ear as he tried to scramble to lean on his elbows, easing the weight on you as you felt his body pushing against yours rapidly, the force standing behind him slamming into him roughly. Holding your breath, you turned your head slightly, blindly leaning in until your lips brushed against his cheek.

He cradled your head between his hands as he kissed you softly, or at least tried to as the thrusts that shook both of you pushed you over the table and away from each other's mouth every time. As his breaths became erratic, you felt him removing your blindfold and after you squinted and blinked several times, you felt nothing but pure relief when you finally saw his face next to you. A tired smile tugged at your trembling lips and he only pushed his mouth onto yours, moaning softly into you as the tremors rocked both of your bodies.

He leaned his cheek against yours as he gave himself to whatever happened behind him. The movements halted then, aside from a few deep shudders vibrating through you, you felt him buried deep within your tight space, the warmth and texture of his seed soothing your insides, and only then did you hear a loud groan coming from the blond boy who was usually too reserved to even sneeze too loudly. Despite your pain and discomfort and overall exhaustion you had to stifle a laugh at the thought.

You saw Sebastian crack open an eye as he noticed the shaking of your shoulders and he raised an eyebrow, his heavy breaths hot on your wet skin. You just pressed your lips together and shook your head. Behind you, you could see Ominis shifting and seeing the boy on top of you shuddering one more time, you could only imagine that he was undoing their connection. You heard him inhale deeply, then his footsteps walking around the table.

When you looked up at him, you saw him getting dressed again, his cheeks flushed and his usually immaculate hair slightly dishevelled – and you were glad he couldn't see the state you were in, which must be way, way worse. His pale eyes flickered through the room unseeing, before he cleared his throat.

“Well, uh, happy birthday, and I hope for both of your sakes that we will never talk about this ever again!” he said stiffly and then proceeded to leave through the door.

You stared after him in confusion, before your eyes moved to the boy still lying on top of you, smirking at you. “Happy birthday?”

He leaned closer and kissed your cheek. “Yes, happy birthday, love, did you like your surprise?”

With a chuckle shaking through your sore body, you pressed your forehead into the table. “You can't be serious...”

“Deadly serious,” he whispered and leaned up then, the motion causing you to gasp in pain as he shifted inside you. “You'd be even more surprised that it didn't take quite as much convincing to make Ominis help as you might have expected. He was... rather eager.”

You raised your eyebrows and turned your head as far as you could as you watched him out of the corner of your eye. “Really? I wonder why that is...” you grinned at him and witnessed him blushing even more. In response he slapped your ass cheek, coaxing a shriek out of you, before he pulled out of you in a more or less swift motion that made you grit your teeth. You felt his seed dripping past your clenching muscles.

Meeting your gaze with an almost shy smile, he then bent down to untie your ankles, before he walked around the table and did the same to your wrists. As he gently lifted you off the table and onto his arms, you inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the sorry state of your body.

“I must look horrible,” you whispered and started wiping at your cheeks and mouth, before he stopped you by pushing his lips against your damp forehead.

“You're beautiful,” he said quietly, his eyes boring into yours, adding another layer of red to your flushed face. “Especially when you're covered in cum,” he added and you growled in indignation.

“It's not all yours, you know?” you snapped back once you were past the initial embarrassment. “Never thought you'd be okay with that.”

“Well,” he said sheepishly and shifted you in his arms, luckily not setting you down on the hard table because you just knew you wouldn't be able to sit comfortably. “It was for a good cause, wasn't it? And sometimes certain things come with a little bit of sacrifice.”

You scoffed loudly and snuggled against him, one arm lazily draped around his neck. “So, how did that sacrifice feel for you?”

He winced visibly at your words and avoided your eyes for a moment, before he leaned down and kissed your cheek, trying to hide the blush on his. “Let's just say, I am sorry for forcing you to do it. Had I known –”

You stopped him by grabbing his chin and tilting it towards you. Meeting his surprised gaze, you smirked at him. “Let's not talk about that any more, okay?” you whispered and shifted a little in his grasp as your body fought against your desire to forget about the ordeals you went through. He nodded and leaned in to kiss you gently. You stroked his cheek. “I also have the feeling that Ominis is the one who got the most out of this little endeavour...”

“I suppose so,” he admitted with a chuckle. “But trust me, I enjoyed myself as well... to a certain point,” he added quietly, before his gaze turned more serious. “You didn't, right? At all?”

You licked your lips and tilted your head, thinking about it. “Well, a little. A lot when I had the attention of two boys at once, that was... interesting, to say the least,” you said with a sly twinkle in your eyes. “But before and after that, well, it was an experience, to say the least.”

“You don't hate me for it?” he asked, genuine concern washing over his features.

You smiled at him. “I might have in-between, but I don't any more, don't worry,” you whispered and pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth. He didn't seem convinced and slightly hurt at your honesty. You grabbed his face and kissed him deeper. “Trust me, despite it all, I still love you with every single fibre of my hurting body!”

He watched you for a long while, before a smirk tugged at his lips. “I'm glad,” he whispered. “And I love you too, despite all the horrible things I did to this beautiful body of yours...”

You chuckled softly and leaned against him. “I know...”

Sebastian kissed your forehead with a loud exhale and carried you to the other side of the room, where he slowly and gently put you to the ground. Your feet hit the dirty floor and you still held onto him firmly because you didn't trust the strength of your trembling legs. You didn't even think about your other aches.

“By the way,” you said as you watched him rummage through the pile of clothes on a nearby crate before he retrieved his wand. “What happened to that snake?”

He looked at you with a frown, before he grinned. “Safe and sound in one of Ominis' pockets I'd assume. You know that was my idea and I'm not so sure he liked it very much. He's very protective of his little pets...”

“You know that I hate snakes, right?” you then told him as you watched him moving his wand over your soiled body, gently cleaning the mess caked to your skin.

He halted his movements and frowned deeper. “I know now,” he said, sounding genuinely concerned. “I'm sorry, I thought... with you dating a Slytherin and all...”

You laughed, having had the same thought. “Well, you are not a snake, you know? I don't mind pictures of them, but having them so close to me, moving over my body like that,” you stopped and shivered visibly. “No, thank you.”

He caressed your cheek gently and smiled softly. “Good to know,” he said quietly and leaned over you to kiss the top of your head before he continued cleaning you up. “I'll also assume you won't like to experience anything like this ever again, correct?” he asked, almost a little hesitant.

You watched him, biting your lip. “Well, I can't say I don't like surprises,” you admitted eventually, turning around as he focused on your backside. “But, you know, as long as I don't end up in damp basements any more, I'm okay with... well, learning new things.”

As soon as you finished talking, he had grabbed your shoulders and spun you around quickly, before you found yourself pressed against his chest, gasping for air. “That's why you are the best girlfriend I could ever imagine!” he whispered happily into your ear as he hugged you tightly.

You embraced him back gingerly, inhaling deeply. “Yeah, let's see how much you like me tomorrow when I'll whine and complain to you about how much my bum hurts!”

His laugh echoed through the room and filled your aching body with a warmth that almost eased your unwavering discomfort. Almost. “Let it all out, love, that's what I'm here for.” His hand moved down your back then and teased between your ass cheeks. You flinched and squirmed in his embrace. “That and pushing you to your limits, over and over again!” he purred and moved his fingers down the curve of your body until he grabbed your quivering cunt, ready to make you feel good again.

You groaned and gave up fighting against him as a chuckle escaped you. “You're insufferable...” you mumbled against him.

“And you love it!”

He did have a point.

End notes:

THE BIRTHDAY THING: I have two theories about that and as I couldn't fit in both and couldn't decide which one was better, I left it out and so maybe that's why you're confused about the Happy Birthday stuff. Well, lemme tell you: 1) It was not reader's birthday and Sebastian told Ominis that it was to convince him to join them, and 2) it was reader's birthday and they forgot about it and both Seb and Ominis had planned it long enough and that is why it took several weeks for that scene to play out. - I do prefer 1 tbh, sounds like a thing Sebastian would do... xD

And I know there are a lot of vague implications and I don't know if it even matters, but when Ominis says "Anything I say", he means that was his condition to join them: that Seb would do anything he said - hence, well, what happened.

So, uh, also: my first (sorta) Sebinis, Throuple, whatever you want to call that – was certainly interesting to write. I don't have Ominis in my writings often (or ever) so I was a little anxious. And to be honest: I think I did him a little dirty. He is more than Ominis "The Force" Gaunt and after re-reading that scene over and over again I feel as if the reader is mocking him, but they are not, I swear! Just surprised what cute little Ominis is capable of... Hmm, I hope that is just in my confused mind and you didn't feel too appalled by my poor rendition of him.

Oh by the way: this amazing fanart by @celerydays inspired me to write that scene like that, wish I could have gone into more details on the two boys, but alas, our protagonist was blindfolded and turned around, so no juicy details this time.

Thank you for reading my filth!

HELLO AGAIN! There is now a part 3: Aftercare!

[ masterlist ] [ kinktober masterlist ] [ ao3 ]

Kinktober submissions:

Pleasant dreams... and tentacles (somnophilia, tentacles)

It is that time again (breeding kink)

A scholar and a pervert (overstimulation, sex toys)

The horny ghost (voyeurism, masturbation, spectrophilia)

It belongs to me (deepthroating, public)

A Filthy Fantasy (1/2) (cnc, bondage, sensory deprivation, orgasm denial)

[cable-knit-sweater]

You literally can’t tell me Sebastian didn’t enjoy getting slapped in the face just a little

[buckysbud]

I have to share this screenshot of Sebastian I made.

I have so many thoughts about this, but mainly how pretty he looks like this.

Like the hand on his chin tipping his head up and showing off his throat and adam's apple ? Being led by a female hand ?? Following her demands like a good boy ?? Something like "Look at me when I'm talking to you."

His back looks so good here as well. You can see the dip between his shoulder blades running down in a line hinting at his muscled back.

FUCK.

It's just everything. I'm so glad I caught this.

[mspegasus17]

Cheeky Bashieboy peeking between legs 🫦 pls

Here you go 😘

Maybe it's not the way you wanted it, but AI said "NO" to him eating you out. I hope you enjoy anyway.

[hisbutler-problematic]

really was about to come on here with images and say something deranged like sub!sebastian

anyway. sub!sebastian

[lucastheoclarington]

@subastian from 📃

Please. If we were related to Steve Rogers, you'd be dating him, not my brother. And then I'd still be your favorite, regardless. So your point is invalid. And I'm good, not much new to do around here, what about you?

[baubellum]

Come see the ocean floor! Live feed from deep diving! Science!!

[morag-stilwell]

Good job, SuBastian!

Wait, beneath the sea floor?

OUGHGH??

OIUOHGHHVOIH!!!!!

[fandomfluffandfuck]

S, I'm beginning you please write something about the new videos of Sebastian in the Gym. I need some smutty M/F action because I'm going ferral for those images 😩

related to all the content coming from Don's social media about Seb's return to the gym mafia

I already have a ton of requests to get to--which I do love, it's wild to have people want my writing so much, like, what the hell--and normally I get to them based on who's been waiting the longest but... the Seb content is so recent, I just have to get down with this 👀

(And I promise if you're not into x reader content, we'll get back to regularly scheduled programming soon! It just so happens that I got two x reader requests so soon after opening my ask box fully again.)

gif made by @/unearthlydust

Between the few moments it takes for the sound of keys jingling to register in your brain, hitting your ears muffled from outside, and the short time it takes for you to walk from your miniature modestly sized NYC apartment living room to the entryway, Sebastian has managed to unlocked the door, slide into your home, and... sit himself on the floor, apparently.

His head is reclined back, resting on the wall. Conversely, his legs are folded up, knees bent, his arms resting on them. He has yet to attempt to start to take his shoes off. Clearly, he walked in--or maybe he crawled, you muse to yourself, smirking--and immediately put himself down on his ass.

A chuckle leaves you at the sight of him. But, there's more breath contained in the amusement-colored sound than you'd like to admit. As you tilt your head down to take him in, you excuse your stare with a question, "Don work you over good, baby?"

You stare more while he thinks about his answer, processing, clearly frazzled from whatever mild torture Don put him through this time, not just working out but working out on film, meaning they stopped and started and stopped and started and had to refilm sets and probably ended up doing double the work planned. He took a long time today.

You saw him when he left, but the sight of Sebastian is much different now when his shirt is soaked through with sweat, the thin, breathable fabric clinging obscenely to the hard, lean shape of his body. His collar, err, the collar of his shirt is more stretched than you remember, exposing just a taste of his collarbones. Something in you whispers salaciously to pull it down more until you hear the seams start to give way so you can drag your teeth against the sharp lines of his collarbones, leave him gasping, so you can smooth your lips down the defined line between his pecs and feel his heart start to pound as if he's back on the treadmill. He must've been pulling at his shirt collar, dying to get out of his clothes, too hot. He probably even stripped himself out of it at some point. The thought makes you shift your weight where you stand from one foot to the other, cocking your hip, barely resisting the urge to cross your legs and squeeze your thighs together, thinking of, picturing really, all his tanned, smoothed skin, his muscles seemingly more defined after each session with Don. More and more firm under your teasing fingertips.

From your place a few feet away, looming, you watch him swallow. The rolling, contracting motion of his throat unfolding in slow motion, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Seb?" You have half the mind to prompt him again, your lips curling into a wider smirk despite yourself, preoccupied.

You're beginning to feel like a cat toying with a mouse...

"Yeah, yeah," he murmurs, swallowing again, thunking his head back against the wall slightly as if to wake himself up. His hair is damp and wavy from the session, the texture fighting against his cut and style, frizzing up as if it wants to play, too.

He's so fucking cute.

Unbearably attractive and cute.

Sitting down there, his chest isn't exactly heaving, but he's not casually breathing either; still sweaty and flushed, his body is clearly begging for oxygen, leaving him at its mercy to completely fill and empty his lungs. As his chest expands, your eyes can help but wander down to the outline of his nipples through his clinging, painted-on, almost transparent shirt; they're hard and pointed, right there high on his pecs, so exposed.

Drawn in, you take a step closer to him, dragging your teeth over your bottom lip. Your boyfriend, spontaneously becoming a puddle on your floor... oh, no, whatever will you do?

"Don's gonna kill me someday," Sebastian finally manages, adding on, "I'm so tired," and host-to-god pouting up at you. Then, as if that isn't enough, he blinks at you. Those big eyes. If you didn't know better, you'd suspect he was batting those eyelashes at you. You do know better. You know he is.

Even when he's turned to liquid, too hot, too melted and tired, he's a tease. Brat, maybe, is a better word...

At least you don't mind soaking him up. Mopping him up? Either way, between the two of you, there's something there, something ironic about the way he melts, turns to molten liquid, anyone else would expect it'd be you, getting wet, and... yeah. A wider grin splits your mouth. You don't care if you look a little predatory, perhaps unhinged with desire. It's Sebastian's fault. Coming home. Sitting there. Looking like that. He's a sitting, slouching duck.

Realistically, he needs a shower. He's sweaty, and he smells like more than deodorant and laundry, how he did when he left, but you don't give a shit. You know what you need.

"I don't wanna get up," he huffs, hiding his hopeful smile by licking his too pink lips as you prowl another step closer.

Goddamn.

Again, you step closer, coming to stand in front of him. Standing over him.

"Then don't," one of your eyebrows creeps up, a challenge and raising an expression that makes you look imposing. You know it does simply by the way Sebastian reacts to you--his muscles relaxing even more, slouching into the wall a little more, his breathing getting just a touch heavier. He's so statifyingly easy.

A sigh slips out of his statically parted lips--the cherry on top.

"Too tired to get up?" You ask, "poor guy, stuck on the floor, hmm? Your muscles all sore, helpless andd--" your teasing words trail off as you move, gracefully moving into action, tapping his left wrist where it's balanced on his left knee with the pads of your fingers, patiently waiting not long at all for him to allow his sneaker-covered feet to slide odediently across the wooden floor. It leaves his legs straight, spread into an easy v.

Perfect.

You step neatly over him with one foot, positioning yourself to get into his lap without fret. Settling in easy as anything. You've had plenty of practice here. Still, he gasps when the back of your thighs and ass make contact with his body, separated by your own clothes and his soft, blue shorts. He's already hard. You can feel the heated line of him, pressing insistently against you. A deeper curl of heat hooks into you, pulling you toward him, letting your hands rest on his broad shoulders.

"--what ever are we gonna do about your delicate condition?" You pick up where you left off, cocking you head to the side at the same time that you lift a deft hand to cup his jaw, petting along it's sharp cut, "what ever am I gonna do about it?" You think out loud, correcting yourself.

Sebastian let's out a shuddering exhale.

"No thoughts?" You tease, gripping his cleft chin insistently. Not tightly, but firm.

"N-no," he concludes, even though you can feel him squirming underneath you, hardly reining himself in from grinding up against you. He wants something. But he's not going to ask for it, he likes it better when you decide what to do with him anyway.

"Hmm," you take a moment to really think, still struck by how attractive he is. Even gym-sweaty and a little gross--especially gym-sweaty. It's a good fucking look.

Inspiration strikes.

You let your hands fall from his face, relishing inside at the soft sound he makes, so weak for your touch, and instead blaze a path down his throat to his collarbones that wing out into his shoulders, down his arms, then back up.

"I ever tell you how handsome you are?" You look up from where your fingertips catch on his shirt sleeves.

Immediately, the bridge of Seb's nose is red, back to that post-gym glow and then some. Underneath you, his strong thighs tense, reacting viscerally to the praise. Enjoying.

You huff something of a laugh. He's just so precious. "Is that a no?" Your hands keep moving in parallel with your lips, exploring him all over again; he's spread out just for you, so you might as well. Jesus. You can't resist squeezing his arms as you scoot higher on his lap, really pressing your hips together as you feel him up, his muscles still pumped and hard after use. "'Cause you are, you're gorgeous," the words come out rougher around the edges than you mean, something snapping, arousal igniting from sparks to a smolder.

As red as he already was, his color flushes darker, eyes darting away. Shy.

"You're so fucking handsome, so pretty," you bring your squeezing hands up, pressing into his muscle enough to make the ache in them resurface as you take ahold of his shoulders.

Another noise bubbles up from Sebastian's chest, both a reaction to the words and to the sensation. He's always enjoyed pleasure with an edge--if not a soft, throbbing ache than outright pain. Sharp and overwhelming, stealing his breath, leaving him without the ability to focus on anything but how good it feels. How much it hurts. How hot and irresistible it is. Between lapping waves, pulses, of heat low inside you, you feel Sebastian getting hotter, too. Parallel. His dick twitches beneath you.

You feel wicked.

You haven't even done anything yet! Just told him the truth. And it makes you dangerous, knowing so much truth and being unafraid to say it to him. To pull each reaction, so sensitive, out of him without mercy.

"I can't believe it sometimes, y'know, honey?" You slip your hands down his back, hot between the wall and his shapely trapezius muscles, his well-sculpted shoulder blades, the line of his spine, and farther. The smoothed muscles of his back, sides, and chest m strain as his lungs expand, sucking in air, feeding the fiery combustion you know is thriving in his gut.

You reach the small of his back and push into the curve of his spine until he arches with you, falling against your chest. His lips brush your chest just below your collarbone, high above your breasts, but you feel your nipples tighten anyway.

"Yeahh," you sigh, letting your head fall back with the weight of your skull, "'s unbelievable."

His humid breath soaks through your clothes, nuzzling into you. God, you wish you fucking took your clothes off before you got into his lap because, Jesus Christ, how are you going to leave now? Your hips buck down against the line of his erection, and your hands dig into his sore muscles harder.

"Oh!" He exclaims in a sharp exhale.

Just for that, heated, you roll your hips more intentionally against him. Just a few times. You know you both have the same thoughts crowding your minds, dirty--the last time you did something like this. Except, last time, his arms were spread, wrists tied back to the headboard, back to the sturdy frame, sitting up with you in his lap, bouncing, your tits in his face, in his mouth, his wet tongue and soft lips and sharp teeth, his sweet sounds muffled as you took pleasure from him. His cock deep inside you, curved and thick.

Now, easily, he curls forward to give you space to touch him. Eagerly wilting or blooming, you can't say, too distracted. Either way, he surrenders so beautifully.

"I look at you, and, mmhh," you clench your thighs around his waist, tight, when he kisses the hollow of your throat lushly, almost panting into what he can reach of your skin, "I-I'm pretty sure I'm losing my goddamn mind because nobody just looks like that."

Speaking of, you already miss his stupidly attractive face, and so, without hesitation, your fingers thread themselves into his thick, wavy hair and peel him off of you, your heat fuzing you together. He goes with a silent moan, mouth hanging open.

"Yeah, look at that face," you tell him, tipping your head down to stare openly, directly, hungrily, tugging at his hair. The way his eyelids droop heavily, shadowing his darkened eyes, is wildly attractive, lulled so effectively by the praise and light pain. Not even pain, just sting. Again, you've not done anything. Barely anything, yet...

Oof.

Here he is, drunk on it.

Yet another hit of electricity strikes you, leaving you rocking in his lap, grinding minutely against him, as slow as the ache inside you can take. The smoldering embers start to crackle. Fanned and growing.

"Fuck believing it," you purr at him, now dragging your nails against his scalp so he shivers with the tingling, teasing sensation, the sting much stronger now, "I can't take it," your other hand smooths down his chest, feeling the well-earning, hard muscles. "It's not good for me, Seb. You have too much pretty, baby." He makes a wanton sound that embarrasses him more, judging by the way he quivers and lets go of another helpless, punched-out gasp.

As a reward, you circle one of his nipples with your thumb. He shivers harder. Pleasured and teased. Then, worse, you grind harder, your insides knotting up. Tightening. You can feel the sticky wetness of your arousal really beginning to dampen your panties. You're both going to need a shower after this.

"I don't know how we get anything done," you sigh," letting go of his hair to massage his chest muscles, just this side of harsh, you want him to feel the tender ache.

A murmur of your name falls from his open lips after he licks them, leaving them shiny and too alluring. The desire to sit on his face rises inside you so intensely it's fucking violent. You want.

Fuck.

Flames crackle and dance through your body. Hot. Deep. Echoing and making you feel the heat again and again.

"Doesn't matter what you're wearing, what you're doing. But, ugh, God, when you're in pre-production mode," indulging yourself, you wriggle, restless with the erotic images flashing through your mind's eye, "working out and--" a sighing, hot noise falls out of you, letting the rest of your sentence fall away, distracted again. Reminded of how he looks right now. Today. Underneath you. "You look like a statue, you know that?"

He peeks up at you through his lashes, biting his bottom lip and, fuck, what're you supposed to do but go for blood? As much as you want him to believe every word, there's something about the shyness, too... that big-eyed, unsure, but oh-so trusting stare. It's like a dagger of erotism straight through the heart. A deadly weapon, you swear, those eyes, cutting you open and filling you with molten desire.

Fingers teasing his nipples, circling, rubbing, pinching you let his breathless sounds underscore more praise, "you look like you belong in a museum with a special plaque, just for you, begging people to mind their manners and not touch."

"I don't--" he half-chokes, half-wines.

"You do," you insistently flick one of his nipples, showing your teeth when he really, actually whines. "It's not their fault, though, Seb. Is it?"

Obediently, he shakes his head just once. Hard. Barely able to look away from you for a moment, even if it's just to answer you.

"One look at you, and they forget themselves, don't they?" You kiss his high, sharp cheekbone, relishing in his blushing, feverish heat. "They just want a piece of you. They'd touch and grope and eat you up if they could. I mean, fuck, just look at yourself, baby--"

He looks down. You know all he sees is your hands on him, you in his lap, you don't mind. Still, you coo at him, "good boy." If for nothing else than to feel his heart beat wildly against your palms feeling up, groping, massaging his chest. His heart working hard to surge lust-thick blood to his cock. He must be aching worse than you are. All you can think about is how wet you're getting, how tight your chest feels, how much you want to touch yourself and, goddamnit, you know what-?

Arching your back--growing hotter with his hoarse groan of desire, his gaze heavy on your tits--you manage to tear a hand off of Sebastian's body. Instead of him, you put it on yourself, sliding your fingers down, down, down from under your boobs to your stomach and lower. Caressing yourself.

Sebastian's breathing speeds up, his eyes locked onto your every move. Fervently watching despite the fact that you're fully clothed. The attention is heady.

Finally, arriving at your destination--slowly, teasingly, you slide your hand beneath the waistband of the fabric entrapping you, seperating your bodies so thinly and yet so devastatingly, too. So close. So far.

Under your shorts and panties, you can really fucking feel how hot you are for this. For him. So aroused it's humid. Sticky, wet heat. You feel it, and Sebastian hears it--the second you start to touch yourself, the lewd sounds announce it. Both the tempting noises of your fingers sliding down your pulsing, swollen slit, finding where you're soaked to bring the slickness up and rub tight circles around your clit, electric, lush, and the ripped-out noise of a moan.

Oh, God.

Your fingers tease yourself, touch yourself, and press against your clit, stealing your own breath from your lungs. Rather than clenching your thighs around his solid waist, you let your legs spread wide, easing a gratifying, punched-out moan from Seb.

Your breath catches as you think of what it'd be like if were naked right now, he'd see everything, the rhythm of your fingers as you pleasure yourself, the sight of your pussy, wet and hot and plump, aching for him, so ready. Without clothes, you could spread yourself wider, too. Show him more. Then, it'd be so easy for him to slide into you, too. It'd feel so good. Thick and, "mmmmguh," you moan, wordless. Pressing harder, grinding against your hand more than you grind down against him, pleasure ramping up.

Sebastian has started to pant harshly, interrupted by stuttered starts and stops of words. Probable begs to be allowed to touch you inside or choked-off wishes to fuck you. Feel you around him--his fingers, his cock, anything.

Anything.

Abruptly, too horny to stau put together, you think about his abs. Yeah. The way his abdomen goes taut and hard with the jerk of his hips, muscles flexing, and then your thoughts spiral further. Thinking. Thinking. Thinking about being wet and slipping and sliding, grinding against his stomach, above his cock, taking pleasure but giving nothing to him. Relishing in how he arches and pleads under you, pushing into you--folding against you. He doesn't get anything while you get everything. Controlling him. Gorgeous and strong and all. Leaving him so hard and engorged, the veins in his cock emboldened, the throb of his pulse when you finally take him inside of you, clenching, moaning through your gritted teeth, feeling it as he fucks you, pushing back, taking more of it, taking it--

Your eyes open, only now aware they were shut in the first place. Now could you? You just have to look at him.

You're so hungry you can't resist sliding your fingers down and pressing one, then two inside yourself. Quick. You're so wet. Soaked. Fingering yourself faster, you cry out, bucking against your own hand to catch the heel of it, needing pressure on your clit as the heat of your orgasm builds deep inside you. Tight. Hot. Pleasure knotting up deep inside you and making more wetness drip out of you. Your panties might as well be ruined. You don't care; you want it even while your thighs quiver.

"Seb!" You moan, squirming as he stares, eyes glued between your legs, watching you as if you are naked, so seduced by how you've put yourself on display, unable to stop the show now that you're so far in, so deeply effected by him, his pretty face and unreal body. Sebastian, Sebastian, Sebastian, your mind reels. "L-look at me," you gasp, as much of an order as you can manage when you're so close.

He does.

You moan.

"Th-that's it, sweetheart," he couldn't blush harder if he tried, "that's it, lemme see all that face, oh, oh God," your nails bite into his hip, needing something, anything to hold onto as it builds up, it builds, and builds, it's coming! Coming--breaking.

Breaking.

Tripping over his name and falling into more praise, "guh-god, you're so fucking pretty, I, mmmgh, I, fucking, fuck, I can't stand it. You're so hot. Jesus, Seb, do you know what you do to me? L-look at me and wh-what you do to, to me, oh, Seb!"

You orgasm wetly. Loudly. Wailing through gritted teeth. Body shuddering--shattering in clenching waves.

Ohh.

The look on Sebastian's face when you finally manage to rip your eyes open again--the overwhelming sensations slowly fading despite your chest still heaving from your release--is devastating. He looks drunk. Dumbfounded. Stupid in the best way.

All over again, you quiver. That expression, so thick with lust, dives down, hitting you straight between the legs--combining, deadly, with the sensitive last dregs of your orgasm, leaving your toes curling.

It's so goddamn arresting that all you can do is steal your hand from between your legs, fingers glistening, sticky wetness dripping down your palm toward your wrist, and hold it out toward him.

An offering.

One that he takes sweetly, mouth is hot and wet, velvety, around your fingers. Sucking. Licking. Groaning at your taste, swallowing, and taking it deep into him.

Breathy, you ask, "are you recovered enough to join me in the shower?"

As you tease with your words, you can't be bothered to be coy any other way, so you shove your fingers deeper into his lush mouth. He doesn't choke, but his eyes water regardless. And the sound that comes out of him, muffled and broken, might've been a sob.

Aw.

You can't resist when he cries, pleading and worked up so hard. Guh.

If you made it to the end, thanks for reading, lmao 😘

[cursedonyx]

Ominis has had a lot of love on this page, so it's high time Sebastian got a turn 😈🍑👈

Link to Poipiku below the cut (🔞MDNI🔞)

Enjoy

(Answer 'yes' if over 18)

[musette22]

https://x.com/fowlerfiles/status/1841896340542136472 Subastian under praise😁❤️

I have never seen a cuter man in my life EVER. He is the epitome of adorableness. Like, this was barely even praise, just Mark saying they worked well together, and he's still blushing like a schoolboy 😭😭 WHY IS HE SO CUTE? WHAT IS THE REASONNN? 💕💕💕💕

[mspegasus17]

Subastian - Part two

These pictures were created and edited with AI

[hisbutler-problematic]

i think demon!ciel and sebastian play a game called “oh i am only a small child, being talked to and now swept away by a beast of a man” and tbh only ciel thinks it’s a funny game. sebastian wishes they could do normal people kinks/role play

sebastian knows when they play this game bc suddenly ciel is not by his side, but is instead standing somewhere public looking innocent and lost

part of the fun of this game for ciel is watching sebastian trying to maneuver out of getting the police called on him

ciel, a couple centuries years old but looks 13: 🥺 i’m just a smol childe. i hope there’s no handsome but beastly man out there looking for young boy flesh 🥺🥺🥺 sebastian: young master, couldn’t you just tie me up and hit me? surely that would be just as fun