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morelikeravenbore · 7 months ago

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Feigning Indifference

"— And on the edge of it all, standing alone by the stands, there's you: arms crossed, little pout on your cute face, feigning indifference."

(I promised Quidditch!smut for the girlies a literal year ago, oop. 🐢🐢🐢 Anyhoo...)

Rated: Explicit. MDNI. NSFW. 🔞

Content warnings: f!reader, no mention of house or appearance, size difference kink, semi-public sex, voyeurism/exhibitionist fantasies, possessive!Sebastian, Beater!Sebastian, feral!Sebastian, excessive use of the word fuck, p in v, unprotected sex.

Word count: 1.8k

[MASTERLIST] [WATTPAD]

Sebastian descends onto the Quidditch pitch, wind-swept, sweat-soaked — victorious.

Like a stone in quicksand, he's swallowed up by the cheering throng of admirers before he's even fully off his broom; Slytherin's mostly, their faces painted emerald, scarves transfigured into woolly snakes around their necks — they crowd around him, beside themselves with the thrill of Sebastian's triumph, back-slapping, hand-shaking, cheek-kissing. Sebastian is glad to be wearing his protective gear against the most enthusiastic among them — not that he's weak without his shoulder pads and arm guards, but some thump him so hard with their congratulations that he wonders if they're Gryffindor’s in disguise trying to put him out of action before the next match.

Once he's past the worst of it, he shirks off his Beater's gear: pads, guards, helmet (even cup, which he unashamedly yanks right out of his pants) hit the ground in quick succession, discarded for the teams’ first-year assistant to collect in his wake (provided his rabid fan club doesn't get to them first.)

Thanks to his seventh-year growth spurt, Sebastian is hardly any smaller without his bulky gear on — a fact he uses to his full advantage to shoulder through the crowd. It takes him several minutes to wind his way through; supporters and haters in equal measure jostle for his attention, girls squeal and find excuses to touch him, Imelda criticises his technique as he passes (even though he just won her the bloody match), and somebody lets off a series of explosions overhead that shower the crowd with green and silver sparks. — And on the edge of it all, standing alone by the stands, there's you: arms crossed, little pout on your cute face, feigning indifference.

He wants to kiss the frown right off your face.

‘There you are.’ He grins down at you. You glare up at him.

‘Seven different girls touched your shoulders just now,’ you grumble, scanning your narrowed eyes over the crowd. ‘Two more touched your chest, and that last one tried to climb you.’

Sebastian's grin widens, delighting in your jealousy. ‘Did they?’ He affects a look of innocence. ‘I didn't notice.’

‘Liar.’ You shoot him a deeply contemptuous look. ‘Maybe I should take up Quidditch, see how you like seeing your girlfriend being groped after every match.’

His amusement drops faster than a fumbled Quaffle. Usually, he finds your little jealous streak endearing — after pining after you for two long years, convinced his feelings were one-sided, your possessiveness makes him embarrassingly gooey-eyed and lovesick. But today he's too jacked up on adrenaline to let that comment slide: nobody touches you but him. Not even in your imagination.

With no more effort than he expends on waving his Beater's bat around (less, even), he lifts you with one arm, bringing your face level with his.

‘I wouldn't let you play Quidditch,’ he says lowly, his voice deep with authority.

Authority which you completely ignore, like always.

Incensed, you scoff and wiggle and squirm for freedom (‘Ugh, put me down, you brute! — You can't tell me what to do! — If I want to play Quidditch, you can't stop me!’) but Sebastian only waits, watching your little tantrum with a mix of resigned patience and wry amusement.

‘You're not the boss of me!’ you wail. You’re tiny in his grip, slender limbed and delicate, but you’re agile enough to break free if he doesn’t handle you right. His arm tightens around you, pinning you so firmly against his chest that you squeak.

‘Yes,’ he growls in your face, ‘I am.’

Despite all the height and the strength he’s gained since you met in fifth year (or the physique if all the giggles and whispers about his shoulders are to be believed), Sebastian is, generally speaking, an unapologetic softie when it comes to you: the most precious thing he's ever beheld, there's not a girl alive more loved than you. But fresh off the field, bolstered by the dizzying rush of glory and adrenaline, all his usual gentleness eludes him. — Suddenly, he wants to do more than kiss the frown off your face.

A hot lick of desire alights in his belly, as familiar as it is impossible to ignore. Without another word, he hoists you higher and carries you off beneath the stands; game forgotten, celebrations be damned, he only has eyes for you, little doll, little bunny caught in his hungry gaze, so small and soft and devourable.

You yelp when your back meets the wall, but hidden now deep in shadows, Sebastian only grins, wolfish. Grateful he'd thought to discard his cup, he pins you there with his hips, making sure you feel every sudden aching inch of him between your legs.

You're his now. You both know it.

‘How can you be jealous when you're the only one who does this to me?’ He leans in close enough to spill hot words right into your pretty, parted mouth. ‘I should fuck you standing. Right here,’ — he punctuates with a sharp thrust that makes you gasp, — ‘right now.’

Your eyes go wide, but whether you're scandalised by his audacity or desperate for him to keep whispering filth, Sebastian doesn't particularly care.

He wants to fuck the shock right off your face.

‘R-right here?’ The wobble in your voice makes him twitch. He grinds into you again, sloooowly this time, rolling the entire length of himself against you while he watches you shift from stubborn brat to good fucking girl; no matter how many times he's seen you like this, flushed pink and panting, he's still utterly obsessed with the moment you finally give in.

Because you always give in.

‘Why not?’ He begins the careful crumbling of your resolve with the top button of your blouse, then the second button, third, fourth… But by the fifth his patience snaps and he yanks — hard; no need for a vanishing charm, he rips your shirt clean open. Buttons pop off in all directions; he knows you'll scold him for that later, but right now you only have strength enough to whimper.

‘What if they see?’ You palm his shoulders — but you're pulling, not pushing.

‘Let them.’ His lips are on the hollow of your collarbone, sucking shivers out of you. ‘Let them watch me fucking ruin you.’

Yanking you away from the wall, he spins you around and envelopes you from behind, one arm curled so tightly around your waist you couldn't wiggle free even if you wanted to. Not that you do want to; that much is clear when his other hand slides beneath your undies. Fingers slick, he fucking moans his way down the side of your neck, his tongue laving a hot, wet stripe down to your shoulder.

‘You think I want to touch any of them like this, huh?’ He bundles your little body against him like a blanket, his arms taut and muscles straining as he works your moans free with his hands and his tongue. You buck obediently against his palm, and when he slides two thick, long fingers inside you, your knees give out. He holds you up, pinned pretty to his chest, your tits heaving in the open air, nipples begging to be painted wet by his hungry mouth.

Sweat drips from his hair and lands on your face. ‘You think I want to fuck any of them the way I fuck you?’

Through the gaps between the stands, the Quidditch pitch is empty, quickly abandoned for post-match festivities (or commiserations if you're a Gryffindor). He imagines marching you back out there right now fucking you in the middle of it, stripping you bare and pounding you silly while the teams debrief in the changerooms and the Slytherin's celebrate their win in the dungeons. — He'd never do it for real, of course, but the fantasy of claiming you so openly, having you exposed and babbling on his cock for anyone to see makes him dizzy.

He wants everyone to know you're his.

The thought makes him fucking — lose — it.

Hot and thick in his hand, he strokes himself free from his trousers with frantic pumps and a long, drawn-out whimper. If he's teetering on the edge of control, then you don't stand a chance; he hoists your leg up and rubs himself desperately against your underwear, mouthing your neck from behind, palming your tits with his big, calloused hand. Never has he been more grateful for all the grueling training sessions that have granted him the strength to manhandle you onto his cock whenever the mood strikes.

Undies bunched to the side, you arch your back and reach an arm around his shoulder, begging, begging, begging even as he's pushing in, in, into you. The sound he makes when he's fully sheathed is nothing short of feral; he stumbles forward, that hot, tight squeeeeeze of you so good it makes him weak in the knees.

It's fucking unbearable what you do to him, the way you make him dribble and buck and moan all sorts of dirty things in your little ear — the way you make him lose control.

‘Look at you,’ he slurs, anchoring you to his body with the full, hot length of his cock. ‘S'fucking good, s’all fucking mine.’

Holding your leg up, he sets a slow, deep rhythm and imagines himself watching you: a last-minute straggler drawn to your hiding place by your sweet moans. He imagines how pretty you'd look all stretched out and stuffed full of himself, tits bouncing, mouth agape with pleasure, too fucked out of your mind to realise how loud you are. He'd touch himself to it — oh fuck yes he would, edging himself to time his climax with yours. And maybe you'd notice him, a pair of dark eyes burning with desire. Maybe you'd like it. Maybe it'd make you cum harder.

Fuck. Lust roils thick and luscious in his stomach and he makes a mental note to fuck you in front of a mirror next time.

He's gasping now, slamming into you so hard your foot almost leaves the ground with every thrust.

‘If only —’ he groans, ‘— they could — see you —’ He drops his head to your shoulder and bites. ‘You're the — ngh — only one — oh, fuck —’

Surely you know — surely you understand that it's always been you; that the way you surrender makes him feel strong; that being inside you makes him feel less broken. Surely you know that he uses his body to say the things he can't put into words.

It's more than sex: he fucking loves you.

Your peak hits you first: a long, slow, wet release that Sebastian rides out as best he can without falling over. He moans along with you, echoing ecstasy into your ear, holding you up while your body succumbs to the overwhelming love he gives and gives and gives over to you. And when you're done, spent and shivering in his arms, sweet and limp and loved to the extreme, he follows.

#sebastian sallow smut #sebastian sallow oneshot #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x fmc #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy smut #morelikeravenbore writes #beater!sebastian #Quidditch!Sebastian

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eikomp · 2 years ago

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authorellasallow · 1 month ago

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The Sallow List

pairing(s): Sebastian Sallow x Reader

words: 6.3k

summary: Sebastian Sallow sneaks into your dormitory and finds a list hidden in your bed, one filled with names of girls who want him. All except yours.

When you find him reading the list, offended and curious, he decides to prove exactly why your name belongs at the top.

warnings: contains nudity, sexual themes and mature content that is not advised for younger viewers. descriptive smut. sebastian being competive and possesive. idiots in love. all characters are aged up!

a/n: you could also find this Ao3 too.

dedicated to @kelseyreads22 for the light peer pressure. and my discord peeps for never failing to support the stupid feral shit we all just agree with all the time lmao. you could join us for laughs and content here's the link too. enjoy xx

“What?”

Sebastian Sallow sat mortified on the edge of your neatly made bed. A crumpled parchment with scribbled writings clenched on his hand, still in a blend of a confused and deafening expression.

He hadn’t planned to be there, in your dormitory. Let alone, holding his find. He’d only planned to enter your common room and ask for something, but when he saw the dormitory door slightly ajar, curiosity took the best of him.

And he knew the parchment was yours. It was your bed. It smelled like you — the faint hints of your scent that had lured him in since your arrival the fifth year.

The stemming scent that kept him up late nights when the wind slept and his mind didn’t.

The thought alone ticked Sebastian, and he brought his senses up, his eyes flickering back on the bloody list.

Yes, a list.

Girls. Every name written like some twisted Quidditch scoreboard.

Some from every house, some he’d recognized, and some that he never expected to see there.

The most quietest ones held the most pride in signing this list.

The Sallow List

Sebastian didn’t need much context behind it. The doodles beside the signatures were enough.

— Cressida Blume, his hair looks really soft

— Gracie, his voice?? His moans are probably so deep.

— C. Greengrass, his lips are so pink. They have to be kissable!!!!

— Lenora, I seen how fast his fingers move when he has a quill…what else could they do?

“Ergh,”

It felt invasive to read, but it was a list about him. Curiosity ran thick in his blood, especially on something about him. Something that was in your property.

A slow, vexed frown began to form on his face after re-reading the scribbles. The thickset of his brows furrowed as he looked for one name in particular. Yours.

You weren’t on it.

It felt too ironic for him to know you held this list in your belongings, yet, no evidence of you was there.

He even flipped it over, then back again, convinced he might’ve possibly missed it, knowing you and your small writing he often made fun of — but you weren’t on the list.

And it bothered Sebastian’s ego.

All these girls wanting to snog him, but the one whose bed he was currently sitting on; the one he’s seeking wasn’t among the names.

How annoying — how pesty of you to orchestrate such a thing like this and not be on it.

“Typical,” Sebastian murmured to himself. You always knew how to wind him up without even fucking trying — always with him, but still out of reach after all these years.

The pulse trip you gave him of endless ventures he’d spend with you. The almost ‘what-if’s’ but too cowardly to admit, so instead, he’d spend his growth cycles just wanking himself with your scent and hoping for the best.

The consequence? Your name not being on the list.

You entered breathlessly into your dormitory without notice. Everyone had gone to Hogsmeade for the weekend, including yourself, but you’d forgotten your coin pouch, so you ran back.

When the door swung shut, your steps creaked toward your side before finally finding the person in your space.

“Oh, shit—Sebastian?”

You weren’t even phased by his arrival. The patterns you’d learned about the Slytherin man throughout the years stuck with you, so his presence wasn’t ghostly.

What was ghostly was looking at the crumbled parchment you had sworn was hidden well beneath your pillow, now sitting still over his long fingers, in his possession.

Oh shit.

The list.

The fucking list.

Sebastian didn’t flinch. Hell, he didn’t even bother to act like he’d been in trouble. He had mastermind too many times getting caught by Scribner — but with you finding out he found the list? He just threw a smirk.

“W-What are you doing? Where did you find—“ You didn’t mean to stutter, but the list was a limited item you hid from him for years. An inside joke he now knew about.

The titled smirk didn’t fade from his face. You saw how his eyes laid on the parchment, the wrinkly freckled skin over his lids squinting as he spoke. “Wasn’t aware this was part of the female’s newsletter.”

Your heart dropped, but you passed your saliva and wind a hand up, using a non-verbal Accio spell to get the parchment out of his hands.

Sebastian curved your spell and snatched the paper back to himself.

“Hey,” Your feet worked again, and inched closer to him on your bed, wanting to get the paper from him. “Give me that!”

With a smooth motion, Sebastian stood up from your bed rapidly, and of course, with his ridiculous height advantage, he lifted the parchment enough out of your reach.

“I don’t think so.”

He was tall. And even with the swift motion of holding the parchment upward, you could sniff the manly scent as you tippy-toed a jump to grab it, but it was a fail.

“What is this, eh?” Sebastian asked you.

A blow transmitted out of you mid-dormitory. Your cheeks had been tomato red by now and you’d hope Sebastian didn’t notice the trickle of sweat outlining your forehead as you ignored his question.

“Seriously, Sallow,” You jumped again, but he was ridiculously taller than you. “—give me—“

His gaze was gawking at you. You’d known he was directing his attention at you for an answer, but you’d been busy wanting to take away the list on his hand. “You’re dodging my question.”

“It’s just a stupid list. It’s a joke.” You lied.

It wasn’t really a lie. It started a little after the sixth. Snogging began to occur often in the secretive halls of Hogwarts, and rumored lists would often lure. Considering you were the closest to Sebastian Sallow, one drunk night with the girls led to the list. Thanks to you.

A strange scoff emitted from him. “Oh yeah?” He cooed. There been a roughness in his playful voice that made you feel challenged. He’d always been manipulative for answers, but you didn’t want to give it to him today.

You scratched your forehead with your fingers with a sigh, surrendering to grab the item, and then faced Sebastian.

Both of your eyes met.

It hadn’t been fair really. Besides the height — it was foul to see how stupidly attractive the Sallow man truly was.

A few strands of his brown hair flopped over his forehead, nearly covering the brown eyes that peered at you.

You’d seen him more than any of those girls on the list. None of them were this close to him though. They didn’t manage to see the freckles that kissed the top of his cheeks, or how the color of his brown eyes turned lighter like honey in the light.

You've seen him so much, you could debunk the notes in that list. ‘I want to touch his clear skin’ one would say — but it was flawed with scars that only one would see up close. ‘His lips are so pink, he would be a good kisser’ you couldn’t debunk that, yet.

You passed your saliva, “Why are you stirred up, Sallow? If you read the list, your ego should probably be the size of a quaffle by now.” You spat, crossing your arms and breaking the eye-contact. You only stared at the dent he left on your bed from sitting long.

Sebastian had been in another state though. Not enough names could boost his ego in that fucking list. Not any compliments, not any assumptions — anything, but the one name that wasn’t there.

Wanting to avoid any tension, you began to pace around the space, focusing on what you really came in here for, your coin bag, and pretending like you hadn’t done this cut-off every time there was tension with you and him.

The friendship had been strong. You two have seen the worst and the best out of each other. In battles, in class, in parties — one thing would lead to another, but when there was a hint of something more, usually one pulled away or one became a coward.

“Ugh, where is that damn bag—“

“Does the creator of the list exclude themselves from it?” Sebastian asked.

He stood in the same spot, asking questions, but also watching you waste time to find the coin pouch. He was desperate for an answer. An answer that he wanted to hear and his scheme of manipulation took over. Sebastian wasn’t going to stop until he got it.

You chuckled, “Who said I created it?” Your body bent, going through some drawers at the end of the dormitory.

You were a bit far, but you heard the chuckle from him. It resonated more when nobody else, but you two were the only ones in the dormitory.

“I don’t know, let’s see,” Sebastian said, but there was a tip of annoyance in his tone as he projected his truth to you. “ I found it in your bed. Your pillow. And I know your handwriting by now. The title of the list — it’s your writing.” He pointed his finger at the bolded letters.

You froze at how attentive he’d been. It shouldn’t come off as a surprise, but you had to pause your hand digging in your drawer and blink at his words. There, you stood in place, turning slowly over your shoulder and glinting. “What’s your point?”

Sebastian was pissed at how calmly you took this matter. It was only proving that you really did not care about him finding the list as much as he imagined you to. This ticked him off because he was good with girls. He understood why there was a list. He had his way of words to lure and hypnotize them, but you?

The parchment crackled under his grip and you heard it far and clear but didn’t comment. The list became useless at this point if the main ingredient of it found it.

“My point?”

The Adam's apple in his throat moved a little heavier in visual view, but you didn’t notice because your head turned back to the drawer.

But your heart was beating fast. You’d learn throughout the years to avoid conflict. To hide away your real feelings, so to battle such a topic with someone like Sebastian Sallow — it was tough.

“Sebastian, you have like half of Hogwarts tallied up on that list and you’re still complaining?” You snarled, closing the drawer and taking a breath, your coin pouch nowhere to be found.

“All I’m wondering is why your name didn’t make the list.” He said bluntly.

This caught you now. The need to look for your item died down and all you could do was turn to him.

Sebastian held his stand in the same spot you left him in. In the side of your dormitory bed, the list no longer in the air from his height, but on his side, crumbled up in madness.

You swallowed, your steps taking tardiness as you approached him again.

Only you knew the truth, but the least you could’ve done was sign your name. The risks of prioritizing your feelings first rather than wanting to keep a friendship with Sebastian Sallow were high. You were not going to risk it again.

“My name?” You laughed it off, looking to the side. “Why the hell would my name be there?”

Sebastian didn’t laugh. You didn’t even hear a wince of a scoff or chuckle. He wasn’t matching your energy, so you stopped looking to the side and looked up.

There was a grave expression on his face. Those honey-like eyes you were admiring minutes back became dawn darkness from your words and you raised your brows at him.

Sebastian tilted his head a little and blinked with a mocking questioning. “Am I not your type?”

A nervous laugh spilled out of you. It was not funny. It was more of a laugh of hiding away the truth. You could no longer tell if he was teasing as he always was with himself, or demanding truth.

“Are you being serious?”

“I am.” He narrowed.

The air thickened, but you pursed your lips and then pressed them with a hesitant nod. “I just—I—“ you didn’t mean to stutter, but it was getting to you. “We’re…we’re friends,…and…and…”

“You’d known me more than anyone else in this castle, more than Ominis. I’d guess to boost my ego you could’ve written down a few compliments or so in this list to help. Don’t you think?”

You gulped.

Sebastian stepped closer, barely a hand’s length now between the two of you. He’d now begged himself for you to self-confess. Perhaps, it’s become a mutual feeling now, but you were a hard rock to break. It was impossible.

“And then what, Sallow?” You weren’t afraid of his closeness. You have been close to him many times, but even with an empty room with so much space, this one killed you. “Be part of this list too?”

His jaw clenched at your words. It wasn’t even a tease. You were just asking a question as you stared, but it still bothered him. It wasn’t enough.

“Am I not fuckable enough for you?”

It hadn’t even been a joke anymore. There was no cracked smug over his mouth. No glint in his eyes. Just a cold sting of frustration, pride, and something lower — something he didn’t want to admit.

As he asked that, the same list he had crumbled in his fingers crackled under both of you.

Your breaths were higher now and even if you wanted to take your eyes off him, you couldn’t. There was this appalling appearance in you from his question and you knew by now that he’d taken notice of how your chest raised in and out from the nerves.

“I bet if this list said Weasley, your signature would’ve been the first on top, wouldn’t it?” Sebastian dug now. There was a possessive and impulsive timbre in his voice. He hated mentioning the redhead, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Your eyes widened, not expecting him to cross lines now, unplanned. “Are you out of your mind?”

Sebastian’s breath shifted, slower and heavier from your reaction. He looked like he wanted to respond, but it caught between his teeth.

Your eyes glazed on his, then on his flushed cheeks. The little tint of pink that lay on his sides wasn’t there and before you could question anything, you twirled, walking away. “Whatever, Sallow. Just go have fun with the list of names—“

The steps you took from your bed to the door didn’t make it far. Sebastian moved fast, but your Ancient Magic moved faster, sensing his follow and before he could make a stop on you, you turned around facing him.

On unfortunate luck, he’d been close enough for you to step backward and feel your back touch the wall from behind. You took a heavy breath, watching Sebastian lift an arm over your shoulder, flatly on the wall beside you, and bend to stare down.

He’d caged you, so you wouldn’t leave as both of your heights reached the same scale.

It’s like his stare burned into you. Only the sound of his breath blew on your nose from how close he had been. You watched how he lifted his right hand in slow motion, wanting you to watch him show you the crumbled list in his grasp.

The list was fucked at this point. From his anger.

“You think I give two fucks about the names on this list?” He asked you.

You were staring at the paper, but even with that, you sensed his stare stalling at you with every word he said.

The air on the empty setting tightened now. That little humor you were bringing on earlier set off and now things felt serious.

“It’s…it’s a lot of names in there, Sallow.” Your throat itched demanding a sentence to him, but his breath seemed to win over.

“And yours?” Sebastian asked, again. He didn’t back off. He stayed closed, watching you like the truth was buried behind your words.

Your eyes met the frame of his jawline. It’ll pinch with his questions and you weren’t brave enough to stare into his eyes anymore.

But Sebastian didn’t hold his limits anymore. He stepped closer, much closer than he’d ever dared, and lowered right in the inch of your earlobe, his lips brushing on the outline and you shivered.

“What do I have to do,” He murmured in a deliberate struggle. “—to make you write your name in this list?”

The whisper held you under your skin now. This tension coiled between the two of you and the restraint in his voice only made you clenched, not in your throat, but in your core. You’d been afraid if you pressed your legs together, it’d clench faster from his position.

“S-Sebastian…”

“Tell me,” He demanded. “I’d spent the last years doing enough to think you’ll write your signature in such a list about me, yet,” his breath blew inside your ears. “…it wasn’t enough.”

You’d always had your eyes prying on Sebastian Sallow, since the fifth year, but the blockage of friendship and comfortableness layered it.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t enough.

It was that you’d never dared to let yourself want him openly — because if you did…it would never be just 'wanting'.

“Do I have to prove it to you?” Sebastian’s voice cracked over the last word. It sounded like a prayer. To have this blessing of allowing him to take this to his advantage.

Sebastian struggled. He struggled enough in the past years. He couldn’t keep holding back on this very moment. It had been enough in the cycle, and this frustration of rejection — he couldn’t stand it. Not from you.

He couldn’t stand how you stood below him, innocently, pretending like not one inappropriate thought crossed your bloody head this entire time, but he liked a challenge.

There was this competitive thrill for Sebastian Sallow to prove himself right. To have this source of ability to prove something. Persuading something — persuading you.

Pleasuring you.

His nose kept tickling over your ear, and he took the benefit of that scent of yours. To smell the small strands of your hair behind the ear as he kept his eyes closed, waiting for an answer, but also holding in the strained hardness that flexed over his pants below.

His cock twitched with every breath of yours.

“Speak up, sweetheart.” He said roughly, not having the great ability to hold back, but your lack of answers were edging him. “We could answer all those assumptions about me in this,” with one hand he un-crumbled the list again and brought it to your eyes. “…list.”

He was silly, but the butterfly feeling between your legs at the moment said otherwise from his intense tease.

“You don’t wonder how my fingers,” Sebastian read off the list, rephrasing the jotted lines of girls handwriting. “…write so fast with a quill…imagine what else…” his hands journeyed to your hip, giving the first touch before tracking down your skirt. “…they can do?”

Your leg shifted in a twitch from the touch. He’d only rested the warmth of his finger a little below your skirt, into your skin, but you gasped at his words.

“‘His lips are so pink’” He read off. You could still feel his face near your ear, but he came back up and faced you. You’d been a flush of a mess, but Sebastian edged closer as he kept reading. “…how kissable are they?”

A menace. He was a fucking menace.

But he transferred the curiosity to you. You always found yourself wondering how soft his hairs really were. Or if his lips really were —

Sebastian gave up on the silence. His hands let go of the parchment and let it fall onto the floor. Before you could watch the fall of the list, you were blocked by a pair of lips on yours.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was all in frustration and force. Of wanting something that had been sitting for years. A breath-stealing kiss two parties yearned for enough to make a fair moan from just a kiss.

The one hand that held a list now cradled over the side of your face and a thumb brushed your cheek as you were grounded with a sloppy make-out session that both of you clearly ached for too long.

Sebastian kissed good. Dangerously good.

He held you captive over the wall, his tongue dancing over your own, guiding permission. His brows frowned, not from anger, but from how good kissing you felt. It was an ecstatic feel and it was just kissing.

You were in no help of a stop. Instead, your hands reached in an instinct, clutching at the fabric of his shirt and pulling him closer. Your hands threading through those soft brown hairs everyone wondered about.

It was a hard study between heat and examination. You gripped the hairs, softer than ever — Sebastian groaned into your mouth from the pull and his fingers clutched the side of your hips from resisting.

They were, in fact, really soft.

Your back pressed the bed soon after. The make-out session on the wall quickly transferred back into your dormitory bed and with a soft thud, Sebastian threw you onto the pillow, making you reach for a breath.

“Oh, we’re not finished yet,” Sebastian warned huskily. “Everyone’s at Hogsmeade…and I’m here to prove my point.”

He dove back into your mouth with more need than before. The weight of his hand on the side of your hip found its way beneath your shirt, feeling the raw aspect of your stomach before scrunching it up.

Over grounded mouths, you’d often breathe heavier than usual when the air of the dormitory felt colder on your skin as Sebastian folded up your shirt above your chest and reached over a breast.

His finger traced the middle of your breast, purposely tickling you and triggering the hardness of your nipples. You both watched his actions and you flushed, wanting to return the invasion by bringing your hand downward over his pants and attempting to find his bulge.

He’d been hard and thick. You palmed him lightly, but it was a hard reach from his height to yours. You’d only been able to get a sense of what he hid behind the fabric and you could only now imagine how he would feel inside of you.

You weren’t always stuck in an inappropriate daze. There wasn’t shame in touching yourself in the quietest hours of the night in a bath or empty dormitory. It was easier than admitting how much you wanted him all those years when the sun was up and walls were closed.

But now it became difficult when Sebastian, the real Sebastian, pressed against you, kissing you like he’d been waiting for this too. To prove a point of a name.

The thought made your thighs want to press together again, to get the same heartbeat notion between your legs, but now, the body of Sebastian blocked it. You couldn’t press them and he noticed that.

“Open your legs,” Sebastian ordered, feeling your denial.

“I just—oh,”

He moved quickly, pressing the longness of his fingers under your skirt. His touch circled around the thin fabric of your underwear before pressing three fingers lightly over to feel the dampness outside of you.

“Sebastian,”

A breath hitched out of his mouth. He’d lost count of how many times his cock twitched, begging for an out as he found out how soaked you were for him. For him.

“Agh,” He said in satisfaction, almost amazed from the feel. “…they said they wondered what else these fingers,” you felt them nibble the bud of your clit, still with underwear on as he spoke over your whimpers. “…do besides writing fast.”

The touch was gentle, but so powerful. Sebastian had stopped kissing and now paid his full attention to his fingers beneath you, under your lifted wrinkled skirt he dragged up and watched his own fingers trigger your sensitive nerves even more.

And he felt how you clenched with each nub.

It felt humiliating. Humiliating to know that once his fingers moved your underwear to the side, he was going to feel how wet you’d been over the course of the hour. How with such an unnecessary proof of point, you exposed yourself too on your feelings.

“Merlin,” Sebastian fought over himself, not caring about his truth out loud. “I just want to bury myself inside of you like this, but…”

He didn’t say much after, and before you could question his denial need of fucking you, you gave a low whine when two fingers entered between your folds carefully, a slushy sound echoing over the ears from the arousal.

They’d been long. His fingers. Sebastian kept it slow and gentle, examining how far he could go with them. He lifted his head once wanting to see how you’ll react. You were already a beautiful mess, giving gentle moans and biting your lip constantly from his movements.

“…how can I when the sound of your pleasure brings lullabies to my ears,” Sebastian resisted, fingering you faster, “…my cock.”

A thumb reached the outside of your clit, rubbing slowly and you clenched much slowly, feeling the triggering effect of Sebastian learning what pace you moan louder from his fingers.

“Are they,” he would curl a finger inside of you for a ting of tease and you yelp as he spoke. “…really faster than a quill, hm?” He challenged.

What a provocative little shit.

You couldn’t even talk well to insult him. You’d been so lost in his pace that when he removed his fingers from you, a mushy sound electrified and you breathed.

Sebastian lifted over you, and with the small movement of that, you saw the outline of his cock fighting in his pants. His hands reached down his belt and he raised his eyes like a wild animal looking for prey as you watched him.

Embarrassed from catching you eyeing him, you felt colored again and looked away, giving the privacy of undoing himself, but only a bubble of a laugh threw you off.

“I recall someone scribbled,” Sebastian began to remind you of the list of assumptions as he pulled his pants down. “‘I wonder if his cock is as thick as his ego.’”

You kept looking at the opposite perspective, not wanting to see. Also, to hide the blush that crept over you from what he was saying. All you did was blink at the stupid window across the dormitory.

“Darling,” Sebastian threw a pet name on you for attention. He would sometimes throw them in over the years with a silly friendship thing, but now it sounded heavy and with direction.

You licked your lips, but then felt a hand weight down beside you. Your saliva lingered over your throat as you felt that Sebastian had finally hovered over you again, and once you turned around, he’d be right there.

“Don’t you,” You shivered feeling a few fingers trace your collarbone and down the buttons of your shirt, starting to undo them. “…want to know if is as thick as my ego?”

You let him undress you, but it took a good portion of seconds to gain the courage to turn your head at his nude body before yours.

Cock wasn’t the first thing you saw. It’d been his broad chest — the way his tanned skin vibrated perfectly on the freckles that stamped him. They weren’t only on his face, but they reached down his shoulders, onto his back. A few down his abdomen until you saw him.

He was big. You saw the outline, but now in a raw view, you swallowed from the veins that strained out of it. It stared at you, like a mind of its own and it clearly showed the wanting of Sebastian to you. His cock dripped with pre-cum and it twitched from its pink tip, prepared.

It became stupid when you felt the same familiar heartbeat between your legs again, despite him fingering you pleasurably, you wanted more. You wanted him.

“Hey—“

“Get inside me.” You begged.

By now, from the severe distraction of admiring Sebastian’s body, you’d been nude yourself from his help. The buttoned shirt you once wore had been hanging on the tip of another girl’s bed and you shivered.

You overthought your command, sounding needy and stupid. “I mean—“

Sebastian didn’t think twice about your needs. You felt his lips land on yours, but your once-sitting bodies now lay back down over the pillow. His hand sprawled over the side of your face as he went between your legs and played around himself.

You hummed, feeling his tip linger around the outside of your skin. It rubbed over your drenched cunt on its own as Sebastian kissed you passionately.

The temperature felt hotter as Sebastian brought a hand down under your bodies and eyed the moment before taking a glance at you. “Yes?”

“Please.” You closed your eyes.

Sebastian stared at you. In his head, it crossed that he watched you right now, waiting for you to start writing what none of those girls could ever, ever, write in that list.

He didn’t enter you gently.

His entrance was rough and within gasp, he shut his eyes, squeezing them — hoping for the best of his fucking ego to not cum in that very second as you clenched. “Fuck.”

Your nails dug into his back from the shift of his hips slamming into you and gasped loudly, having to break the kiss.

“F-Fuck…” Sebastian went out of you but kept his tip stuck in your entrance. “…I’m trying to be gentle, but—“

“You were proving a point, weren’t you?” You throw in.

It was a dangerous commitment. There wasn’t turning back on what you had said. To prove a point. Sebastian didn’t hesitate on your words and stood by his words.

He crawled his hand under your body, bucking it up a little before he plunged inside of you like a slap. You both gasped and then he began to fuck you endlessly as time depended on it.

His cock buried inside powerfully. Sebastian didn’t play. He would go deeper and deeper with every rapid thrust, wanting to angle himself perfectly to feel the depth of your cervix and mark himself enough for it to remember him forever.

He’d watched as the pretty little mouth of yours parted with each movement. How your breasts bounced perfectly beneath him and he’ll go back to watching himself thrust into you, in and out, deep and deeper, harder and rougher — oh, he loved it. He loved you.

Your moans and expression sent him over the edge. His goal was to satisfy you to bring your name into the list — but it was never really the stupid list. It was just you. His heart had always been on you. And to finally have you tied on him, finally, he wanted to prove all those lost times of just ‘being friends’.

“Oh,” You moaned.

“Y-You’re so…tight around me, you know?” He complimented, bending forward to caress your cheek with his thumb. “…I could feel you…pressing around — shit — my co-cock with each thrust.”

You did clench with each thrust. He’d been so thick and long, that you couldn’t help the feeling of hugging him inside your walls and keeping him there forever.

The bed made squeaking sounds over the dormitory. It was loud and if Sebastian kept the pace he was doing, the bed would most likely hit the wall across the room.

Neither of you could hear the bed as much as the squelching sounds of skin-to-skin in the air. The way Sebastian drilled into you as his balls slapped beneath your cunt over each motion making you whimper and moan.

But Sebastian became attentive to the noise of the small bed. Sure, he enjoyed your sounds, but his easily distracted mind didn’t allow him to enjoy it fully — so he cuffed you under his arms and carried you to the nearest wall again.

“Sebastian!” You gasped, feeling your back against the cold wall, but it was soon replaced by heated pleasure again as Sebastian pressed into you.

His chest rubbed over your breast as he held you tightly and made you bounce up and down over him on the wall. “Yes?”

One hand gripped your ass beneath you for a force and the other hand of his rested flatly beside you on the wall, using it as a control to keep himself in balance and submerge every inch inside of you.

You’d won over the list. That list that you’d convinced yourself that with all these girls wanting Sebastian Sallow, your chances would lower — but you’d been wrong. Super wrong.

“D-Do you know…” Sebastian breathed, bringing his forehead against yours. Your breaths were heavy and his sweaty hairs touched yours. “-how long I waited to do this with you?”

You gave a half-laugh half-gasp at his honesty over the sex. You were both sweaty, but as your head bobbed over each other, you couldn’t help, but kiss again, passionately.

“But,” Your body took a freeze when Sebastian let you down and turned you around to the nearest dresser, the same one you were indeed dying to look for your coin pouch. “I feel like I haven’t proven enough…”

He bent you gently, letting your hands grip the edges of the small dresser before he inserted himself from behind.

The sex became rougher.

You felt how Sebastian twirled his fingers over your hair like a ponytail and used it as a control to inject his cock back inside of you harder. He’d watch as your behind bounced with each pump and whimper from his actions.

his voice?? His moans are probably so deep. Someone had written on the list.

They were deep.

His moans were deep.

His cock was deep.

His words were deep.

“Oh, yes,” He’d moan over your ear. “Perfect.”

You’ll clench and he’ll let out rough groans, synchronizing with your moans.

“Oh yeah.” You murmured.

Sebastian didn’t think he’d get harder than he already was, but your sounds bricked him awfully. He’d often had to think about clown suits or Prewett dressed as a banana to keep himself going a little longer, but that just fucked his mind.

As he took you from the back, he leaned forward, moving strands of hairs from one side of your neck and becoming a sucking machine on you. He sucked your shoulder, up to your neck, and when you raised your head to see his actions, he found your mouth, clumsily kissing you.

The kisses became lazier and the movement became aggressive. You’d known that if Sebastian kept the pace he was going in right now, you’d reach an orgasm. More if his hand moved into your clit and rubbed it.

“P-Please…” You begged.

“Please, what?” He struggled. “Tell me…tell me what do you want, sweetheart?” He breathed, his voice blending with the slamming sounds.

There wasn’t an ability to talk. Instead, you responded to the hot breath vibrating near your ear before your head spun and met in a desperate kiss with Sebastian. Tongues tangled frantically and a hand of his snaked over your sweat-licked bodies.

His hand lowered and you tucked your stomach, feeling a steady rub of circles over your clit. Sebastian had read you well, determined to push you on edge with him.

“Was pinning you like this,” Sebastian hissed. “-w-worth it?”

The man had proved his point. From how ecstatic he made you feel right now, you were set to write your signature big and bolded over the fucking list. Hell, you’d even highlight it with your reasonings, but the idea of other women knowing how good Sebastian Sallow fucked didn’t allow you.

Perhaps, you had to make another secret list with him only knowing now.

“Yes, yes,” You pleaded.

With pleads and moans, Sebastian felt his cock draw up tightly, balls clenching as he signaled a finish.

It was chaotically messy. A disheveled moment of both of you reaching a coarse point with curses and final moans.

It was planted that you weren’t going to be able to walk for a while after Sallow’s moves. He made sure he gave his all to you in a short amount of time and you couldn’t envision how he would act in a normal setting of sex.

You found yourself like one of the girls on the list. Wondering with curiosity — if he fucks that good in sneaking minutes, how would he be with all the time in the world?

“Well,” Sebastian tilted minutes later, fully clothed, picking up the list that had fallen to the floor. A small tugging smile crept on him as he held it up to you, all sweaty and all. “—I’m sure you have a lot to say for this list, don’t you?”

His eyes peered on yours. He wanted a definite yes answer to it. The satisfaction of you admitting he pleasured you so well, you wanted to put yourself on this list.

Half-tiredly, your fingers conjured a pen over him, and the list was snatched from his hold before you brought it down to a flat surface on the wall and began to sign.

You made sure your name was big and bolded at the bottom, enough for anyone to see. Sebastian watched with you.

He’s HUGE and he’s mine.

He became flustered at the scribble but didn’t complain. He looked down, smiling to himself like he won the lottery of some sort.

“This list though,” You murmured, making it poof away with your magic. “Would only be visible to me and you now, Sallow.”

Sebastian gave a humming noise at your demanding tone. “Hm, yeah?”

"Yes."

#sebastiansallow #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x y/n #sebastian sallow one shot #sebastian sallow x fmc #sebastian sallow/reader #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow smut #smut #hogwarts legacy #harry potter #discord #x reader #reader insert #ao3

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ater-love · 3 months ago

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“Elain had always been gentle and sweet and I had considered it a different sort of strength. A better strength. To look at the hardness of the world and choose, over and over, to love, to be kind.”

Art by Cally.draws on instagram

#all these Elain arts #I feel so giddy #the announcement is near #Elain prettiest girl #Elain Archeron #pro Elain #Elain next ACOTAR FMC #i love her with all my heart #the lovely fawn #elain fanart #ACOTAR

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euphorisun · 1 month ago

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Ethereal, As You Sleep.

Sebastian goes home to you after a late night shift as an Auror in the Ministry of Magic. After a busy week, he truly missed you... And he just can't wait until you wake up.

Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader

Warnings: MDNI! 18+ content, Somnophilia, Filthy nasty smut, Degradation, After Hogwarts! Word Count: 3.1k

━━━━༻𓆘༺━━━━

It was the cold night of November, the winter air had already started teasing the hamlet of Feldcroft. It was where Sebastian and his lover, you, had decided to live after your time at Hogwarts.

Whilst the place left some bitter memories, it was also the place Sebastian knew he couldn't leave.

Sebastian was tired to say the least— after all, it wasn't an easy job, being an Auror. It was an unexpected path for him, seeing how he used to be addicted to the thought of mastering dark arts. But it only felt right— his own need of making up for mistakes is very evident to how he worked.

Only downside was; he rarely gets to spend the much needed time with his girlfriend.

He ought to thank the convenience of apparition as it made things easier for him to get back at Feldcroft, needing to see you as soon as possible. The hamlet was already quiet with only a few lamps dimly lighting up the area. Sebastian’s footsteps were eager as he neared the small house, quickly pushing the door open. As he entered, the warmth of the place greeted him— the furniture rearranged to him and his girlfriend’s liking.

His footsteps were light as he approached the curtain separating the bedroom and the main room of the house. Sebastian slightly ducked under the curtain as his hand held it high. There you are on the bed, peacefully sleeping in your nightgown. That fucking nightgown.

The sight alone made his cock throb— you looked too beautiful even with those eyes closed.

Ethereal even, as he would like to describe you.

With a soft sigh of contentment, Sebastian prepared himself for bed— throwing a pair of pajamas that were comfortable enough against the cold. Thankfully, the heat from the fireplace had also provided them some comfort. He gently tip-toed towards the bed, although he knew he didn't need to because you are a heavy sleeper anyway.

Climbing in the bed, his body automatically sought yours— pushing himself further on your side to press his chest against your back; his arm already snaking around your waist.

Sebastian propped himself with one arm, looking over to you to get a glimpse of the side of your face. Your lips were parted as you slept, the very same lips he had been craving to taste the moment he left for work, even with a goodbye kiss.

Merlin himself could show up but nothing would still compare to Sebastian’s awe as he admired his love.

It was a simple sight and yet, here he was— thinking how he had missed the face he contorted in pleasure exactly a week ago. A week. That's how long since you two had last fucked.

A week ago, Sebastian took you somewhere up the hill near Feldcroft to watch the stars, making up for his busy time in the Ministry. But the innocent stargazing had turned into something that left you both sweaty and panting despite the cold month of November.

And if that memory wasn't enough to get him hard, you shifted in your sleep— causing your nightgown to ride up more. “Fuck…” He let out a soft cuss as he felt his cock get harder.

Sebastian laid back down comfortably on his side, inching his body closer against yours. The hand that was supposedly over your waist had begun making its way up, fingers tracing your stomach softly until they stopped just under your breasts.

Sebastian took another quick peek over your back, just to ensure you were still asleep as his body decided that heat from the fireplace wasn't enough anymore.

He needed your heat.

With that, he slowly continued sliding his fingers up until it reached her nipple— as the tip of his finger made contact, his hand closed itself around your breast, massaging it tenderly.

Sebastian’s breath hitched— he could barely describe the need he was feeling. “So soft…”

It was almost winter and yet the room started to feel like it was burning for him. His cock twitched inside his pajamas, begging to eradicate the very little space between your ass and his length; and how could Sebastian ever refuse such demand?

Sebastian’s hips felt like it moved on its own, closing the distance— his cock now pressing hard against your flesh. He lets out a small moan, feeling the way his dick had created a dent on your soft ass. “Ah… baby…” He pressed himself further, needing to feel the friction.

He didn't want to do anything but fuck do you make it so hard for him to behave… even when you're peacefully sleeping.

And as if your ass peeking out from your nightgown wasn't enough— Sebastian hand that was on your nipple had slowly but eagerly snaked down to pull it up, your nightgown, pooling on your waist.

Seeing your back in full view, Sebastian’s hips thrusted— his hard cock rubbing against layers of their clothing, denying him of touch. He groaned silently, feeling the heat on his neck as he grinds himself on his sleeping girlfriend.

How do you do it, he wondered.

How do you manage to bring him this feeling of intense hunger without even doing anything?

His hand gently tugged the hem of your underwear, checking if you’d even stir in your sleep. As you made no move, his hand went down where it should be. Another hitch of his breath scattered in the room as his fingers finally touched your clit.

His fingers moved in circular motion against your throbbing clit, his other hand moving your hair away from the pillows. Sebastian leaned in to lick your neck, tasting you desperately, “S-So good…” He began placing open-mouthed featherlight kisses as he attempted to stay gentle, not to wake you.

Although, he wanted nothing more than to suck and bite down, desperately needing to mark you again over the fading ones from when he had fucked you last week.

He had already left quite a few, but nothing brings him more satisfaction than letting you walk around with his own claim on his girlfriend. He needed everyone to know that you're unavailable, only for him to ruin.

As his cock hardened more, it started to feel like his pajamas were suffocating. His hand continued to circle your clit as you slept, your body involuntarily twitching occasionally— his other gently pushing his pants along with his boxers down. His cock sprung free, slapping against your clothed bottom.

Sebastian couldn't help but look over again to see if you're still asleep- which you were, thank fucking Merlin.

His hand that was previously on your clit withdrew itself, needing to stroke his painful erection. He stroked himself, giving the pleasure his cock needed— but it would've been better if it had been your hand, he imagined.

Sebastian caressed your ass, massaging it thoroughly. It's been one of your qualities he can safely say he was addicted to. He slightly pulled on your panties’ leg hole and with careful movements, he managed to slide his cock between your underwear and your flesh— a whimper escaping his lips as he felt your warm skin directly against his aching cock.

His girlfriend slept as he pathetically pleasured himself through her panty hole— thrusting his hips to feel each dent his cock created on the curve of her rear.

His breathy moans fanned against your neck, even going as far as biting his lip just to suppress his noises. Oh how he could cum just by pressing his cock on your backside— It was pathetic of him and yet... he couldn't never really deny the fact that he's so obsessed with you that even a touch of your finger, he could be reduced into one needy man.

With another desperate whimper, his hand automatically moved— his fingers hooking to the hem of your panties, pulling them down smoothly despite his eagerness.

Without another second thought, Sebastian quickly sandwiched his cock between your thighs— feeling your folds separate as his cock slid in. The tip of his hardened dick felt every detail that shaped your entrance.

He threw his head back, lips parted in pleasure, and eyes momentarily closing at the warmth.

Sebastian, the masochistic man that he is sometimes— teased himself by denying his cock an entry to your awaiting hole. “God… F-Fuck…” At this point, he had long forgotten the idea of trying to keep quiet as another moan escaped his lips.

Sebastian, he had always been one to dominate another.

May it be in another context or just you— yet here he was, pitifully moaning against the back of his girlfriend’s neck, as the tip of his cock flicked her clit with each thrust.

You shifted in your sleep, causing your thighs to tighten around his dick— resulting for his lips to part more on your neck. His hand lifted and gripped your bottom, not knowing how much longer he could hold it without fully thrusting into you.

The candles around the bedroom were witnesses of his filthy pleasure; witness to each groan his throat tried to hold back, witness to each frantic thrusts he did inside your thighs, witness to how his eyes rolled back as he self-gratified with his sleeping lover.

Sebastian was too lost on his own filth that he didn't notice you slowly waking up as he continued aggressively thrusting. "Sebastian..?" You whispered as you finally fluttered your eyes awake.

His eyes immediately looked over to you, seeing you look back at him with your brows furrowed in confusion, eyes still half closed.

Fuck, that fucking face.

"Oh, you're awake?... Good." Sebastian breathed out and in an instant, all his previous gentleness had gone out the window— forgotten as if his patheticness had never made an appearance.

His hand moved to hold his cock, positioning himself to your entrance. Without any more control, he thrusted his hips up, filling you completely. You gasped, holding on to the sheets while Sebastian's throat released a groan.

“Fucking-... T-tight…” He uttered in pleasure, feeling your hole clamp immediately to envelop his starved cock.

He thrusted into you, not even giving a split second for you to adjust— your body had already lubricated itself after all, from his earlier furtive touches.

“S-Sebastian, wait–” You began to protest, wanting to at least freshen yourself up, only to be cut off by his hand on your back— pushing you to lay on your stomach with him pounding behind. A hand moved to grip your hair tightly, yanking it towards his direction, making you arch your back on a whim.

Without stopping his hungry thrusts, he leaned half of his body down until his lips were almost touching your ear.

“I think I’ve waited long enough, sweetheart.” Sebastian simply whispered darkly, taking a lick on your earlobe before the hand on your hair wrapped around your neck instead, triggering a croaked moan from you.

Fuck did he miss absolutely taking your pussy for his own pleasure.

After a few more thrusts, Sebastian pulled out and flipped you over, making you face him. He needed to see your face, he needed to see each contortion on your face, along with the bounce of your breasts that are threatening to escape your nightgown— as he fucked you, his woman, senselessly.

“Open your mouth.” He commanded, his voice firm— in deep contrast to his earlier whimpering state.

Knowing better than to make him wait, you opened your mouth obediently. Sebastian internally smirked, satisfied at your immediate response to do as he says. He hooked a finger on your teeth, extending the gape before spitting inside your mouth.

Not even a second after, he forced your mouth closed, slapping you on your cheek. “Swallow.” He said, to which you obliged, not breaking eye contact as you swallowed with a moan. “That's it…”

Sebastian shifted himself down, taking a hold of his cock. He brought it down to tease your clit, causing a twitch from your body as a reaction. Sebastian’s gaze fell back on your eyes— those eyes perfect for begging.

“Can't let you have it all now can I, sweetheart?” He said with a low chuckle, getting hornier at your look. His hand snaked under one of your thighs, lifting your leg and bending it until your knee almost touched your shoulder. Sebastian leaned his body together with your leg. “Do you know how fucking hungry I’ve been? How my fucking cock missed you?”

With a shaky breath caused by his teasing, you pleaded, “P-Please… Show me. Show me how much you’ve– you’ve missed m–.”

He cut you off by pressing his tip more firmly against your clit, flicking it up and down to give you something to whimper about. “You can do a lot better than that.” He demanded, unsatisfied with the words you struggled to let out. Wanting more.

You bit your lip as he denied you of pure pleasure— but of course, you had no other choice. Sebastian is a stubborn man. He won't stop teasing even if it means torturing himself too, not unless he sees your lips quivering and your eyes close to watering from denial.

“Sebastian… Please… I-I need you, I need your cock inside me.” You managed to choke out, but seeing the look on his face that silently tells you ‘more’, you continued, “You-... Your fuck toy misses you.”

Hearing those words come out of your mouth, his plan to prolong the agony, perished. Sebastian couldn't torture you or himself any longer— With one hard thrust, your pussy was filled by his cock once again, causing you to moan loudly.

A groan escaped his lips, the hunger he felt for a week suddenly vanished as you enveloped him warmly.

Feeling impatient, you bucked your hips up— His eyes momentarily widening as the unexpected movement sent shivers down his spine. “What? You're gonna fuck yourself up on my cock? Hm? Like the good toy that you are?” Sebastian’s lips slowly formed a smirk, forcing his voice to remain with authority as he felt himself wanting to let you take charge.

It was all confusing for him… The want to beg and be needy and the want to take and be brutal. Be that as it may, as long as his cock is inside you— Sebastian knew he’d be a satisfied lover.

He lets you continue to struggle, thrusting your hips up for penetration as he kneeled and leaned still against your folded leg.

This may have been one of the most erotic scenes he had ever seen.

All the waiting was suddenly so worth it as he stared down at you like a toy, desperately fucking yourself on his dick— doing everything you could from bucking, thrusting and grinding up just to feel an inch of movement from him. You were moaning loudly, holding your legs up, eyes silently communicating how badly you wanted him to take over.

“You're going to wake the whole damn hamlet with those fucking moans.” Sebastian whispered before finally pulling back until it was only his tip left inside you— then aggressively started fucking your cunt, not caring if your moans got louder.

This hamlet be damned.

The lot of them should know how he takes care of his girl.

“God… I- Shit- I fucking missed you.” He managed to croak out— it had only been a week… but for someone as insatiable as Sebastian, it felt like fucking eternity. He resumed his violent ramming, hands were pressing both your legs down now— locking you in a position he could go deep.

Soon enough, the pleasure had become too much to bear. He ought to prolong your ‘lovemaking’ but the pleasure you bestowed upon his cock sent him to chase his release.

“Sebastian– fuck– I’m close…” His ears felt blessed to have heard his girl be satisfied even in his rough treatment.

She was perfect.

Everything about her was perfect, he thought.

“Me too, sweetheart… Me too.” Sebastian whispered gently in contrast to his aggression.

Feeling his abdomen tightened— He let go of your legs, pulling your hips towards his instead as his release painted your insides white.

He let out a dragged groan, panting at the sensation of having this privilege to mark not only your skin— but your hole too. You orgasmed together with him, coating his cock with your own fluids. “F-Fuck…”

Sebastian looked down to where you were connected, seeing his cum leaking by how long they were stored…

In that past week, not once had he ever touched himself, reserving every pleasure for you and you alone.

He slowly pulled out, earning a small weakened whimper to escape your lips. The white liquid had dripped and stained the bed sheets, leaving a future reminder of both your filth.

You were panting heavily, catching your breath— so was Sebastian. And if the mess wasn't revolting enough, he scooped some of his cum on his fingers… his eyes wandered towards your face.

Beautiful.

And he knew exactly what to do— Sebastian then lifted his fingers that held his own release, smearing it all over your face and stopping on your lips, letting you clean a bit of it off.

There.

Ethereal.

Sebastian smiled down, feeling proud of his little work and of course… You. Your legs had given up and were resting at his side. A hand of his began to smoothly run itself on your thigh, a soothing touch reserved for your flesh.

He leaned down until their noses touched, with a gentle and low whisper, “I love you.” He uttered.

You smiled up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him close, to have him rest on your chest— not bothering to clean your cum covered face. “I love you more.” You replied with the same softness.

Moments like these definitely define what your relationship with Sebastian is like. It was risqué mixed with tenderness. It was truly a balance. A passionate balance.

A comfortable silence surrounded the room for a hot minute, before you spoke again.

“Remind me not to fuck you for a week again.” You teased, an indication of how much you had appreciated his lovemaking tonight.

But Sebastian didn't find that funny.

Not one bit.

There was no fucking way he’d wait that long again until he could touch you once more.

He lifted himself from your chest, having his arms support his weight as he looks at you with yet another dangerous threat in his eyes.

“Fuck that. I’ll fucking quit the Ministry if I have to- just so I could have you. Every. Single. Day.” He threatened, emphasizing his need and passion. “Now, be on your fucking knees before I lose my patience.”

━━━━༻𓆘༺━━━━

Ahahahehe. I'm so sorry, I apologize for the cringe— it's my first time writing smut ever HELP. Also sorry for any spelling mistake and if I repeated too much words— my first language isn't English, I fear. Will definitely post the shoot I did for this oneshot! Just that I may be away for a few days so I decided to do something big for today ;)

#sebastian sallow #sebastiansallow #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x mc #x sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow smut #smut #sebastian sallow x fmc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy sebastian #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy oneshot #x reader

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mechanalyticglobal · 4 days ago

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somegirlyoumetx · 1 month ago

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Where the Game Ends

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Word Count: ~4.3k

Summary: You stayed up too late replaying Hogwarts Legacy. Just one more run. One more goodbye to the boy with too much to handle and no one left in his corner. You hit 100% completion.

Everything done. Everything perfect.

And then you fell asleep.

But you wake up in the Undercroft.

Sebastian Sallow-real, alive, and seconds from hexing you-is standing over you with his wand drawn. The story hasn't ended. It's still happening. But now, you're inside it. No wand. No plan. No way back. And nothing to explain your existence.

Content & Trigger Warnings (18+): Explicit sexual content (NSFW), raw intimacy, oral (f. receiving), penetrative sex, light pain kink, overstimulation, time-slip/self-insert themes, consent emphasized but emotionally charged.

A/N: This is a standalone one-shot. Emotional development would unfold more gradually in a full-length fic.

This is part of a fanfiction concept that may eventually become a full-length book-but for now, I just wanted to explore it as a single, self-contained scene.

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦

You set the controller down and sigh. The cutscene plays out—same as always. You’ve seen it five times now. OWLs complete. House Cup secured. This time, you even hit 100%. Every side quest, every hidden chest, every Merlin Trial. It’s all finished. Finally.

And still, something’s missing.

Sebastian Sallow.

He should be here. He deserves to be standing with everyone else, part of the celebration. But for whatever reason, he never is. You never sent him to Azkaban—you couldn’t. No matter how many times you replay the game, you always choose to let him go.

The credits begin to roll, and your eyes are already heavy. It’s late—past 3 a.m.—and you’ve been playing for hours. The soft music wraps around you, familiar and final. You sink back into your blankets, eyes slipping shut, heartbeat slowing.

And then… you drift off.

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦

You wake slowly.

Your head feels heavy, like you’ve been asleep for years. For a second, you assume you’re still in bed—maybe you passed out with the TV on again. But you smell something different, something heavy: dust. Musty air. A weird hum beneath it all.

You blink.

You’re not at home.

You’re lying on stone flooring, the surface cool beneath your bare thighs. Torch light flickers across the walls. Boxes are scattered around the room. You recognize the architecture immediately—the Undercroft. From the game.

What the hell kind of dream is this?

You slowly sit up and glance down at yourself. You’re still in the clothes you fell asleep in: your oversized frog-print T-shirt and a pair of black underwear. Your cow slippers—lopsided and slightly scuffed—are still somehow on your feet. The sight of them against the stone is so ridiculous it almost makes you laugh.

“On your feet. Now.”

Your stomach drops as you recognize the voice.

Sebastian.

He stands just ahead, half-obscured by the shadows curling around the Undercroft’s columns. His wand is raised—aimed directly at you—and there’s no trace of the familiar smirk you’ve seen a hundred times in cutscenes. He’s taller in person. Broader. Tousled brown hair falls just above his brow. His robes hang open, his vest wrinkled, tie loose, and collar undone like he dressed in a hurry.

His face is freckled—faint, scattered across his nose and cheekbones, especially vivid in the flickering light. And his brown eyes pin you in place with suspicion.

He looks real. He feels real.

And he is seconds away from hexing you.

His gaze drops.

“That’s… quite the outfit to wear sneaking into a place like this.”

You follow his stare and freeze.

He looks completely floored. Not just confused—stunned. Like he’s never seen so much bare leg in his life and can’t decide if you’re cursed or criminal.

This has to be a dream.

But the cold is real. The silence is too loud. The feeling of his gaze on your skin makes you hyper-aware of every breath you take. And the way he’s watching you feels far too precise to be imagined.

You scramble to your feet and throw your hands up in surrender.

“I—I don’t know how I got here,” you say quickly. “My name is Y/N. I woke up here!”

“How did you find this place?”

“I told you—I don’t know!”

“Liar,” his voice snaps. “Try again.”

“I was in my room!” you blurt. “It was late. I fell asleep and then—I woke up here. I was playing a game!”

“A game?” His eyes narrow. There’s a flicker of disbelief. The wand stays up. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Not really,” you say, lifting your hands higher. “But it was worth a shot.”

You shift your weight, and glance around the room—searching for something to anchor you. “I really can’t tell if I’m dreaming or not.”

Sebastian moves suddenly—just one quick step forward, wand lifting higher, and the movement is so real, so close, that you flinch.

“Sebastian!” The name leaves your mouth instinctively.

He freezes.

“You know my name?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “I know you because of the game. I know this place is called the Undercroft. I know your best friend—Ominis Gaunt—was the one who found it first.”

He doesn’t move, but something shifts in his expression. Something unsettled.

“Impossible,” he says tightly. “Tell me who you are.”

“Look,” you say quietly. “I’m from the year 2025. This place—Hogwarts, this world—it’s not supposed to be real where I’m from. It’s fictional. It’s… a story.”

He stares at you like you’ve gone mad.

“It’s a game,” you continue. “You’re in it. I played it. I watched your story unfold through a character with ancient magic.”

“Explain,” he says, voice barely audible. But the wand stays up. The tension doesn’t leave the room.

So, you try.

You tell him about screens, about controllers, about pixels and code and decision-based dialogue trees. You try to explain what a video game is, what Hogwarts Legacy is, how you explored every part of this world—from the Highlands to Hogsmeade—and how he was always your favorite part of it.

The whole time, he says nothing.

But his grip on the wand loosens. Just a little.

“Ancient magic…” he hums after you finish explaining. His tone is thoughtful, but there’s something brittle under it. “You’re talking about Milton Shagworthy.”

You blink. “Sorry—what?”

“Milton Shagworthy,” he repeats, completely serious. “He’s the new fifth-year. Helped me with the Scriptorium. With Anne. All of it.”

You choke on a laugh. “Milton Shagworthy? Who—who named their character that?”

He shrugs, unfazed. “I don’t know. But that’s who you just described.”

You’re still laughing. “You’re telling me someone made a custom character, named him Milton Shagworthy, and played through your life like it’s a joke—and you’re just fine with that?”

He raises a brow. “I’m not fine with it, I’m just telling you what’s real. Apparently.”

“And I’m telling you… it was a game. You were in it. That story? It’s something we play. Make choices in. Milton Shagworthy is the result of someone’s really unfortunate imagination.”

He’s quiet for a long time.

“Then you know what I did.”

“I do,” you whisper.

He doesn’t look at you, but you see it—how his shoulders tighten, how his grip on the wand slackens just slightly. Like something cracked open inside him and hasn’t been sealed since.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. “I didn’t mean—”

“You already did.”

It’s not harsh. Just… hollow.

You hesitate, then take a cautious step forward.

“Let me help you.”

That gets a reaction. He lets out a short, bitter laugh. “Help me? How could you help me?”

You meet his gaze and hold it.

“Because I’ve seen what comes next. In the game, your story ends—or fades into the background—but here? It’s still happening. You’re still in it. And maybe that means I’m not just here by accident. Maybe I’m here to help you get through it.”

He doesn’t respond. Just watches you for a moment—long enough to make your heart stutter. His wand lowers an inch, then two, until it’s finally at his side.

That alone feels like a truce.

He sighs, like he’s weighing his options. Then, without a word, he steps back and gestures—barely—with a tilt of his head.

You settle onto one of the wooden boxes, the edge creaking softly beneath you. He doesn’t sit, but he doesn’t stop you either. You’re not close, but you’re not far anymore.

“So,” he says, finally breaking the silence. “You said you were playing the game before you ended up here?”

“Yes.”

“Anyone can play it?”

You nod. “Pretty much.”

“And it just… ends like that? My story never finishes?”

You hesitate, then shrug. “Not really. You just kind of disappear. It’s vague. Unresolved.”

He frowns. “That’s absurd.”

“Yeah. A lot of people think so. Which is why they write about what they think happens after.”

“Write?” His brow furrows. “Stories?”

“They call it fan fiction.”

He repeats the words slowly, like he’s tasting them. “And what—these stories… are they good? Do they give me better endings?”

You smile faintly. “Most of them do. Some don’t. Some are completely unhinged.”

“What do you mean?”

You clear your throat. “Some people write… other things.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “Other things?”

“…Intimate things.”

A beat.

“Intimate,” he echoes, cautious.

“They write about you. About you doing… things.”

He stares. “With who?”

You hesitate. “Usually themselves. Or their own characters.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope.”

He looks at you. Really looks. “And have you…?”

You raise a hand quickly. “I plead the fifth.”

“The fifth what?”

“Never mind.”

He watches you for a long moment after that—like he’s still trying to figure you out, still deciding whether you’re real or just a cruel trick played by magic and grief.

You don’t say anything else. Neither does he.

But the silence that follows isn’t as tense as before. It settles between you, strange but not unwelcome.

Eventually, he sits beside you.

Not close at first. But then his shoulder brushes yours as he shifts, and when your thighs touch—briefly—he doesn’t move away.

He glances at you sideways, guarded. Searching.

“You really don’t belong here.”

“I know,” you say with a small shrug. “But I’m here.”

“You’d really help me?” He asks, voice barely above a whisper.

You meet his eyes without flinching. “Without a doubt.”

He looks away fast, jaw tight. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you understand.”

“I do.”

“You couldn’t possibly—” His voice catches. “You couldn’t understand what it was like for me.”

“I do.”

You hold his gaze as the words spill from you.

“Sebastian, I watched you suffer. Alone. I saw the pain. The desperation. The way you love your sister so fiercely it tore pieces out of you. I know.”

He’s breathing hard now. Not from anger. From something else.

“You never deserved to be alone,” you say gently. “And you’re not a monster. Not the one you think you are. You’re not.”

Your voice softens.

“How could you be a monster for trying to save the people you love?”

He goes still.

Then he moves so fast you don’t even register that his lips are on yours until you’re already kissing him back.

The kiss starts like a detonation—hot, fast, fueled by everything neither of you have said.

But then… it shifts.

Less rushed. Slower. Less like a spark and more like collapse. Like he’s been holding back for so long that now, with your mouth on his, he’s finally unraveling. His hand curls behind your neck, anchoring you in place. The other slips to your thigh, then higher. His palm burns through the fabric of your shirt like it’s nothing.

You breathe against his lips, voice trembling. “Sebastian—”

He doesn’t pull back. Just leans his forehead to yours, panting, brows furrowed like he’s trying not to fall apart.

“You say my name like it means something.”

“It does,” you whisper.

His eyes search yours.

“This doesn’t make sense,” he says, voice cracking. “You. Here. Wanting me like this.”

“None of it makes any sense,” you say. “But it’s happening.”

You’re still sitting on the wooden crate, knees touching, breath tangled. Your shirt’s falling off one shoulder. His tie is hanging even looser and useless around his neck.

His gaze drops to your lips. “Tell me to stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” you say, breathless. “But… I’ve never done this before.”

He freezes.

You can almost hear the gears grinding behind his eyes. “Never?”

“Not with anyone.”

His eyes flash—not with lust, but with concern. “And you want this to be with me?”

“I already chose you,” you say. “Every time I played. Every time I watched the story—I chose you.”

He stares at you like you’ve cracked him wide open.

Then he kisses you again. Harder.

And that’s when you feel it—his restraint breaking. His tongue slides along yours, and his fingers tighten on your thigh. He groans into your mouth when you whimper, when you dig your nails into his shirt.

He yanks his vest down his arms, then shrugs out of the shirt underneath, breath shaking. You run your hands over his firm, freckled chest. His body is hot beneath your palms, and you want more.

He pulls your shirt up—pauses just beneath your chest. “Can I see you?”

You nod, and raise your arms.

The shirt comes off.

Your breasts rise and fall with your breath. He’s looking at you like you’re something special—like if he blinks, he’ll miss it.

“Bloody hell,” he breathes. “You’re unreal.”

Your mouth tilts. “You can touch.”

He does.

One hand, gentle but desperate, cups your breast. His thumb brushes your nipple until it stiffens under his touch. You moan, and that’s all it takes—his mouth is on your throat, then your collarbone, then down to your chest. His tongue flicks over your nipple. He sucks, just once, and you move into him.

“I want you on your back,” he growls.

“Then take me there.”

He stands, grabs you by the hips, and lifts you off the crate like you weigh nothing. The stone floor is cold against your back, but the heat from his body makes up for it. He kneels between your legs, eyes drinking you in.

You reach for his belt. “Take this off.”

He unbuckles it fast, shoving his trousers down to his thighs. His cock presses against the fabric of his boxers—thick, long, hard, and already leaking.

But he doesn’t touch himself. He’s focused entirely on you.

He crouches over you, fingers slipping under the waistband of your underwear. “These too?”

“Yes.”

He pulls them down slowly. The air hits your soaked core and your thighs twitch.

“Y/N,” he breathes.

He spreads your legs and settles between them. His hands slide up your thighs, gripping and massaging like he can’t believe you’re real.

You prop yourself up on your elbows just in time to watch his head lower.

Then his mouth is on you.

You cry out.

His tongue licks a long, slow stripe through your folds. Then another. His mouth wraps around your clit and sucks, gentle at first, then firmer, and your hips buck.

He grabs them. “Stay still.”

“Can’t,” you gasp. “I—Sebastian—”

He looks up at you.

And the sight knocks the breath from your lungs.

His face is buried between your thighs, freckles flushed, mouth glistening, eyes locked on yours. Hungry. Possessive.

“Keep talking,” he murmurs, voice rough, lips brushing your clit. “I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.”

“You’re—you’re going to kill me,” you pant.

“I haven’t even started.”

He dives back in.

His tongue flicks, laps, then flattens and drags in slow circles. He switches rhythms—teasing one second, focused the next. You can’t keep your legs still. One of your hands fists in his hair and tugs, hard. He groans, and the vibration makes you see stars.

“Oh yes—please—don’t stop—”

He doesn’t. He devours you like it’s the only way he’ll survive. He kisses your pussy like it’s holy. Like he’s worshipping you with his mouth. Like your pleasure is the only thing he’s ever wanted.

Your thighs start to shake. Your hands try to grip the floor.

“I’m going to—fuck—Sebastian—”

He moans, “Come on my tongue.”

And you do.

It crashes through you like wildfire. Your body locks, your back arches, and you scream his name.

But he doesn’t stop.

He licks you through it, softer now, slower, coaxing every wave of aftershock until your legs are trembling and your voice breaks.

You collapse. Boneless. Gasping.

He kisses up your thigh, your stomach, your chest, until he’s over you again.

“You alright?”

You blink up at him, dazed. “You ruined me.”

He grins. “Good.”

Then you reach for him.

“Now,” you whisper. “It’s your turn.”

You reach down into his boxes and wrap your hand around him.

His cock twitches against your grip. His breath quickens, eyes slamming shut as your thumb swipes across the head. When he opens them again, they’re darker than you’ve ever seen.

“Fuck,” he breathes, “you’re going to undo me.”

He kisses you hard, biting your bottom lip, hips stuttering forward like he can’t stop himself from grinding into your hand. You stroke him once, twice—just to feel him, the way he pulses against your skin.

Then your voice goes soft. “I want you inside me.”

His forehead presses to yours. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been surer of anything.”

Sebastian pulls back just enough to strip the rest of his clothes off—tossing his boxers to the side—and kneels between your legs again, completely bare.

You look down at him. Really look.

He’s beautiful.

Not just his body—but the way he looks at you. He keeps looking at you like you’re the only thing that’s ever made sense in his fucked up world.

He strokes himself once, spreading your pussy along his length, then presses the head of his cock to your entrance. He’s slow, like he’s bracing himself for the moment everything changes.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he murmurs.

You nod, barely breathing. “I want to feel all of it.”

And then he pushes in.

You gasp. The stretch is violent, unfamiliar, and so, so full.

“Y/N—” he growls, jaw clenched. “You’re so tight. So fucking warm—”

You whimper, your walls pulsing. “Don’t stop.”

“Never,” he breathes.

He inches in deeper, watching your face for any hint of discomfort. You feel every inch of him until he’s fully inside you. When his hips finally meet yours, you moan—long and low.

“Ah—Sebastian,” you gasp. “You feel so deep.”

“Because I’m not holding back,” he murmurs. “You’re going to remember this. Every time you close your eyes.”

He stays still for a moment. Breathing. Letting you adjust.

Then he pulls out—just enough to tease your entrance—and thrusts back in. Your breath catches again. The burn is already fading, replaced with unbearable pressure and dizzying heat.

He fucks you slowly at first, hips rolling, grinding his pelvis into your clit with every stroke.

“I—I can’t believe this,” you pant.

He lowers his forehead to yours. “Believe it.”

His pace quickens. The slap of skin-on-skin echoes in the chamber. His hands grip your hips. Your moans turn to gasps. Then to curses.

“Fuck—Sebastian—”

“You take me so well,” he pants.

He leans back, grabs your thighs, and lifts your hips slightly—just enough to tilt your pelvis toward him. The change is subtle, but when he thrusts again—

Oh.

It’s like lightning.

The air punches out of your lungs.

His cock drags against something inside you that makes your entire body lock up.

Your mouth falls open but no sound comes out at first—just a strangled inhale as white heat rushes through your spine. Every nerve in your body lights up. That spot—that spot—he hits it again, and your legs jerk in response. Reflexive.

“Right there,” you moan. “Fuck—right there—don’t stop—”

You feel helpless under it. Like he’s got his hands wrapped around the base of your soul and he’s pulling pleasure out of you one grind at a time. Every deep stroke forces your body open wider. Every motion drags a desperate sound from your throat.

It’s not just penetration—it’s precision. Pressure. The perfect collision of want and anatomy and the kind of slow, focused rhythm that drives people mad.

Your thighs tremble. Your vision pulses. You can feel another orgasm building and you’re not even sure how long you’ll last.

He sees it in your face. Smirks like sin and does it again.

“Oh my God—”

He’s relentless now. Slamming into you. His brow furrows, his mouth hanging open. Sweat beads at his temples, rolls down his chest. You cling to his forearms while your nails dig into his skin.

Then he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head.

You whimper.

“Oh, you like that,” he smirks.

“Don’t stop—don’t fucking stop—”

He thrusts even harder. Merciless.

And then he lets go of one wrist to reach down and rub your clit in tight circles.

“You’re so close,” he grunts out. “I can feel you—tightening up—fuck—come for me. Want to feel you lose it on my cock.”

Your mouth falls open. A high, broken whine slips out.

You’re already right there—so close you’re throbbing. Your body’s coiled tight, burning, clenching around him like you’re trying to drag him deeper. He keeps hitting that spot, over and over, every thrust stealing more of your breath.

“I—I can’t—” you cry out, voice wrecked. “Please, Sebastian—don’t stop—please—fuck—I’m going to—”

“That’s it,” he groans. “Give it to me. Let me feel you fall apart.”

“Please—please—want you to feel it—want you to feel how much I need you—”

And then you come.

Your entire body tenses around him. You scramble to grip anything to keep your body from losing control. Your thighs shake violently around his waist. Your pussy clenches down hard—dragging a groan out of him.

“Fucking—hell—

You can barely speak, barely breathe. You cling to him, whimpering, still trembling through the aftershocks.

“Inside,” you gasp. “Sebastian—please—want it—want you to come in me—I need to feel it—need you.”

He loses it.

He slams into you one last time—deep, deep—like he’s trying to put something permanent inside you.

“Fuck—yes—I’m coming—”

You feel the first hot pulse of his cum, then another—thick, filling you completely. He moans your name into your neck, over and over, hips grinding through it, desperate to push every drop into you.

You’re still fluttering around him, soaked and full.

The Undercroft is finally quiet.

Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, echoing louder than the torches crackling along the walls. Sebastian lies half on top of you, still buried deep. His breath ghosts across your shoulder.

For a minute, neither of you speak.

“Are you… alright?” His voice is shaky. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You shake your head. “No. You ruined me, sure. But in the best way.”

He lets out a soft, relieved sound—half laugh, half exhale—and kisses the hollow of your throat. His lips linger there like he doesn’t want to leave.

You shift, and both of you hiss—his cock twitching inside you, your thighs sticky with sweat.

“We made a mess,” you mumble.

“We did,” he agrees, smirking against your skin. “I’m proud of it.”

You let out a breathless laugh, but your body trembles when you feel him slowly pull out. You whine at the sudden emptiness. His cum leaks out of you immediately.

Sebastian watches. Then mutters, “Fuck, that’s obscene.”

He runs two fingers along your core—just to spread it wider, watch it drip out of you. You squirm.

“Stop,” you whimper, hips twitching.

“Oh no,” he murmurs. “I’m not done looking at you.”

He leans down and kisses your hip, then trails his mouth to the inside of your thigh. His tongue flicks out, tasting what he left there.

You flinch. “Sebastian—”

“You taste like sex,” he groans. “Like mine.”

Your legs nearly close around his head, but he pins them open. “Hold still.”

“You’re insane.”

“And you let me fuck you on the floor of a cursed hideout,” he says. “What does that make you?”

“Very, very lucky,” you whisper.

He kisses your clit—just a soft brush of lips. You flinch again, oversensitive. He hums.

“You’re still so swollen.”

You glare. “That’s your fault.”

He grins. “You’re welcome.”

Sebastian crawls back up over your body, settling between your thighs again, his now-soft cock brushing against your sensitive core. You gasp—still sensitive.

“I can’t,” you say, voice shaking.

“I know.” He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You wrap your arms around him, tuck your face into his neck. You feel safe there—tucked under his weight, surrounded by his warmth.

“You were incredible,” he whispers. “The sounds you made—the way you looked at me—”

You lift your head and kiss him. A different kind of hunger is there now—slower, sweeter.

“I meant what I said,” you whisper. “You’re not a monster. You never were.”

His eyes shutter. He leans his forehead to yours again. “You’re the first person to ever say that and mean it.”

“I watched everything you went through. I know what you did. But I also know why.”

“I wanted to save her. That’s all I ever wanted.”

“I know.” Your thumb strokes the line of his cheekbone. “And you deserved someone in your corner. Even if I had to fall out of the sky to do it.”

He gives a broken, hoarse laugh. “You really are mad.”

“Maybe” you whisper. “But you’re here—wrapped around me like you never want to let go.”

“Because I don’t.”

That silences you both.

He eventually rolls to the side, gathering you into his arms, pulling your body against his chest. Your leg hooks over his hip. His hand drifts up and down your spine, barely touching. Just enough to feel like you’re real.

You whisper, “What now?”

He thinks for a moment.

“Now…” he says, brushing hair from your face, “I memorize every inch of you. Just in case.”

“In case of what?”

“In case this isn’t real. Or in case it is, and I wake up without you.”

You pull him closer, leg tightening around him. “I’m not leaving.”

He holds you tighter. “You promise?”

You nod against his chest. “Promise.”

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