#i blame leander | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

myokk · 7 months ago

Text

clumsy

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 9,1k

summary: sebastian is clumsy

cw: fluff, mutual pining, idiots in love, two really stubborn idiots in love to be exact, sir cadogan guest appearance, anne and imelda are the gremlin best friends every girl needs, smut (18+ ONLY), oral (f. recieving)

a/n: or: two stubborn brats make things more difficult than they have to be. I've been working on this for a MONTH more or less, ever since I drew the sketch that inspired it🫶 (I'm the world's slowest writer)

The first time Sebastian Sallow interacted with her after the fateful events of their fifth year, he fell for her.

Quite literally.

Maybe fell on her is more aptly put - Sebastian Sallow is not one to mince his words or say what he doesn't mean, after all. But, in the years to come, he always insists that he fell in love in that moment.

It was inexplicable. One moment, he was walking around, perfectly content with his loveless, boring life, and the next, his every waking moment was painful. Nobody had ever told Sebastian that being in love would physically pain or consume him so.

It all started like this: one moment, he's walking (well, striding) to Crossed Wands. Fine, he's running. Running late already, for the first meet-up of his last year. But - he isn't to blame for being late. He needed to check on something in the library - during his Transfiguration lesson, he had a hunch about something Professor Weasley had said in passing, and of course he had to go and check to see if he was right before he could even think about besting Leander in the inaugural duel of the Crossed Wands season but now, with how late he is - how many minutes ago had it started? - oh, Merlin, it's already been ten whole minutes and what if they've started without him (not that he can blame them) and -

Sebastian is abruptly pulled out of his thoughts when he collides with a strange obstruction in his way. He was just checking his father's old pocket watch, had only looked away for a split second and he could have sworn that, unless he was mistaken (which he never is), there wasn't a statue in the middle of the suspension bridge. And yet, he has run headfirst into something or someone, and now they are both flying through the air, books whirling around them in a flurry of pages and Sebastian unconsciously puts his arms out to grab her before they hit the ground and now he's holding her tight against him and they land with a loud, ungraceful thud, but at least she's not hurt.

Sebastian shakes his head to clear it after the impact that - miraculously - doesn't seem to have been as bad as it could have been, all things considered, and -

He freezes.

What has he done?

He's pressed up against the most impossibly lovely person he has ever seen quite possibly in his life, holding her tightly in his arms as she glares up at him in indignation, a faint flush spreading across her cheeks, making her face glow. Is this what the muggles mean when they say that they were struck by Cupid's arrow? Her hands scrabble uselessly at his chest as she tries to extricate herself from his grip. It's useless. Sebastian is completely frozen in place as he stares down at her, and he can feel his own face heating up at his inability to get off her. What's wrong with him?

"Sebastian," she repeats, and this time her voice registers in his brain. He realizes she has been talking to him this whole time, and as he stares at her face without comprehending - he couldn't have a coherent thought right now even if he wanted to - he sees her eyes dart quickly down, looking at where their bodies meet before she brings them back to his face, a deeper blush coming over her. "You -"

Oh, Merlin. It's her. He blinks and it's like the fog has cleared from his mind - almost, but-not-quite - and he realizes who he has unceremoniously crashed to the ground with him. The spines of the textbooks they are lying on top of dig into the arm that's pinned under her body and his other hand...he realizes (to his almost-horror) that to any students or professors walking by, it would seem as if they were caught up in quite the scandalous extra-curricular activity because his other hand is actively caressing her breast. Well, that's how it would look to any passerby, anyways.

Because there is no way he would be caught dead in such a compromising position with her.

The two of them haven't spoken since the events of their fifth year - the Year-That-Shall-Not-Be-Remembered-or-Acknowledged - and he had been perfectly content with his plan to continue this strange sort of ignoring that they had played all last year. Both of them pretending that they hadn't become impossibly close after only knowing each other for a few months - a closeness that he had gone and ruined by not knowing when to quit. All he had known to do back then was push push push because why couldn't she see things the way he had? The betrayal he had felt when she had gone behind his back to find her own way to cure his sister, and that one stupid word uttered in the heat of the moment, had caused an irreparable rift in their relationship and he would not allow himself to think about how much he missed her. Still misses her.

Just like he will not think about the fact that she is pressed beneath him in a compromising position, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she glares up at him in indignation. He continues to stare at her. Maybe his mouth is agape. She's stopped trying to get out of his grip and is resting her hands on his chest, seemingly waiting for an opportunity to push him off of her.

"Sebastian. Your hand," she repeats. "You're -"

Finally his idiot brain decides to wake up and Sebastian realizes with horror just how aroused he is at the moment and how did he never see her like this before? He gets up in a flash, pushing her back against the pile of books they're lying on top of, wondering if he can subtly adjust his robes without her realizing and then he makes the very grave mistake of looking down at her and she's still very much red-faced, propping herself up by her elbows and she looks so disheveled and lovely lying on top of the pile of books.

His idiot brain has now woken up completely, and how is it possible for one hormonal, eighteen-year-old wizard to be so embarrassed? He knocked her to the ground, pushed her further back in the books in his desperate attempt to get away from her, and now all he can think about is how to hide his arousal. Shameful, really. Sebastian quickly crouches down to help her pick up all of the books but she shoves him away and glares at him with an annoyance that he's never seen before.

"I can do it myself, thank you very much," she says with a huff, gathering everything they spilled up into her arms. She grabs the book Sebastian is holding out of his hands and he inhales sharply at the touch of her fingers grazing his.

Did someone - Garreth, maybe - spike his pumpkin juice with Amortentia during lunch? It's the only explanation he can think of as he stares blankly down at her. How else would he find her so beautiful, so breathtaking, when the last time they had interacted, Ominis and Anne had had to act as intermediaries for the two of them?

"Well," she says finally, slinging her school bag over her shoulder once all of her books have been unceremoniously shoved inside of it, "it's been...nice seeing you again, Sallow. I hope you had a good summer holiday."

And with that, she quickly turns and walks away in the direction she had been coming from, leaving a very confused Sebastian behind. He watches her as she walks away and her long, swishing braid is the last thing he sees before the door closes behind her at the far end of the bridge.

Eventually, he gathers his wits and wanders away.

He does not go to the first Crossed Wands meeting that afternoon after all.

She has not had a full-night's sleep since he somehow cursed her mind and her thoughts a week ago, and she can feel herself slowly slipping into insanity. A curse is the only answer that makes sense, the only thing that gives a conceivable answer to all the wicked dreams she has been having since that moment, dreams that cause her to wake up sweaty and breathless and needing him in the middle of the night in a way she has never felt before. She has been an absolute mess, a disastrous version of her normally quite put-together self, and she is not happy about it.

He's sitting next to her now - they were partnered up by the evil Professor Onai in their first NEWT Divination class of the year - and she's holding herself rigidly, arms tight across her chest, in an attempt to not accidentally touch him. Lately, every single time they make fleeting eye contact across the table during breakfast, or when they pass each other in the hallways, a shiver runs down her spine at the unfamiliar look in his eyes and she has to avert her eyes before it's too much.

Divination has never been a favorite subject of hers - too impermeable for her tastes. She is only taking it at the NEWT level because, during her career counseling with Professor Ronen at the end of her fifth year, he had said that if she wanted to be an Unspeakable she couldn't just work with logic (a preposterous thought, but as a sixteen-year-old she hadn't seen any recourse in arguing with the Ministry's requirements). She supposedly needs to get comfortable with the intangible as well. It doesn't mean she has to enjoy it, though: she doesn't, and never will. The Divination classroom is dark and stuffy, tucked away in one of the highest towers of the castle, and the nauseating smell of incense always coats her nasal cavities long after the class has finished. She finds her thoughts getting muddled in the haze of candle smoke and swirling orbs on the shelves around her - magic somehow always feels thicker up here - and the presence of a certain someone whose knees keep brushing hers under the tiny table they're sharing, a certain someone who has - improbably, inconceivably, impossibly - hit a growth spurt that summer and now towers over her and had encompassed her completely when he knocked her to the ground, isn't helping her concentration at -

"This week, we are going to review everything we learned together last year," Professor Onai says, after the class had rearranged itself based on her instructions. Sebastian shoots a look at her as she shakes her head in an attempt to clear it and sits up straighter. She hopes that Onai's lecture will help her concentrate and clear her mind a bit. If she has something to focus on, to try and think of and remember, it will be better than him. Anything would be better than Sebastian. Onai gives an appraising look to each table before continuing her speech. "As your NEWTs are at the end of the year, we need to make sure you are as prepared as possible. Open your books to page two-hundred and thirty. Today we're going to review the art of palmistry. I should hope that you do not need the aid of your textbook to help interpret the lines in your partner's palm but in the case that you do -"

She chances a glance at Sebastian before getting out her copy of Divining the Undivinable from her bag and wishes she hadn't. He looks uncomfortably big sitting on the tiny tea chair across from her, barely any hints of the boy who had completely swept her away two years ago visible on the sharper planes of his face. When had he - had they - grown up?

Sebastian Sallow was - is - charming, and that had been her downfall. She had successfully avoided his charms the year before, and she wasn't going to let that happen this year, no matter how much her body rebelled against her mind and resolve. Because, as she reminds herself, Sebastian Sallow is also manipulative, and cold-hearted, and selfish.

"Well," she says archly, opening her book. She will not look at him. "I suppose I am still quite ignorant of the practice of Divination, so do forgive me if I have to double-check my readings in the textbook."

He says her name as she opens the book, and she ignores him. He says her name again. She continues to ignore him. He grabs the book from her hands and puts it the correct way for her. She was looking at it upside-down. Her cheeks heat up and she continues flipping through the pages, as if nothing has happened. She finds page two-hundred and thirty. She pretends to be interested in what she sees.

(Divination is unfortunately not interesting.)

Oh, fine.

"Do you want to start, or should I?"

These are the first words she has voluntarily spoken to him - not including the events of last week, which do not count as they were most decidedly not voluntary - since he called her ignorant a year and a half ago. He somehow looks surprised to see that she has addressed him, and for some reason this fills her with rage and a strange sort of confidence. Why shouldn't she be able to talk to him?

"Here," she says, putting her hand out towards him, palm up, ignoring the strange fluttering feeling in her chest when he gently grabs it with one of his. Sebastian looks up at her, waiting for her to continue speaking, and were she not looking at him so intently she would have easily missed the bob of his throat as he swallows nervously. "Show me how it's done."

Her breath catches in her throat at the small, mischievous smirk he shoots to her before he bends over her hand and gently starts tracing the lines on her palm with the fingers of the hand that's not holding hers in place. His touch is feather-light and somehow soft, despite the roughness of his fingers as they drag over her palm. Every nerve in her body seems to have moved to wherever he touches and all of the bravado and anger she had just felt is quickly melting away. When she finally finds her voice, she hates how soft and breathy it sounds. She can't look away from the sight of his larger hands caressing hers.

"Well? What do you see? Do you remember the different lines? Because I -"

She falters. The murmurs of their classmates blend together in the background and the dim lights of the candles...the hazy, thick atmosphere and his proximity and the barely there touches of his rough fingertips on her sensitive palm are altogether too overwhelming and she needs to get out of there. She's supposed to be angry with him. Furious, even. Holding this grudge has been the only way she has been able to have any sort of power over him this past year, and yet...all she can think about at the moment are the sinful dreams she's been having lately where he presses her against a wall, desperately kissing her lips, her neck - even she knows that there has to be more to it - but what?

Sebastian blinks as she snatches her hand away like it's been burned and - oh, Merlin - she shoves the textbook back into her schoolbag and almost knocks the candle on the table over and wouldn't it be awful if she had started a fire? But she can't think about any of that now in her haste to just get out of the claustrophobic Divination tower.

Vaguely, she can hear Professor Onai asking her if everything is fine and she's not sure but she thinks she mumbles something about needing to go to the Hospital Wing - that's a good enough excuse to leave, isn't it? - but then she hears his voice, deep and cutting through the fog in her mind -

"Don't worry, I'll take her and make sure she gets there fine." A muffled response from their professor and then his voice, just as clear as before. "No, I don't know what happened..."

She hears him calling her name as she flees down the spiral staircase, almost tripping over her feet in her rush to get away from him, but he catches up quickly, reaching out to grab her arm in an attempt to slow her down. She stops running immediately - she supposes her traitorous body wants to see what he has to say, or maybe it just wants to bask in his intoxicating proximity. He crowds her space, and she sees that unfamiliar look in his eyes again. So very different from the cold disdain she had seen the last time she had been this close to him, during the argument that had ended their friendship.

"Let go of me," she whispers, but there's no conviction in her voice as she gazes into his deep, brown eyes. He can tell she doesn't mean it and doesn't make any move to listen to her. Why can't she hold on to the rage? A muggle quote about anger floats through her mind: Holding on to anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. What a sweet poison her anger at Sebastian had been, while it lasted. She tries telling herself that he must still feel the same as the evening he had called her ignorant (ignoring the small voice in her head that reminded her of the letters of apology he had sent (that she had burned without reading), the times he had tried to get Anne or Ominis involved and apologize for him) - because why couldn't he just tell her himself? Maybe she had shut down any and all attempts he had made to repair the rift that he had caused in the first place, but she had been right to be so angry with him.

But oh, Merlin, he's getting closer to her, and she can now clearly see the freckles dusting his cheeks and nose and forehead and then before she knows it, his hand is sliding up her arm, leaving goosebumps everywhere he touches and then he's caressing her jaw with his rough thumb and he pauses. Her eyelids flutter closed as her head tilts towards him - she couldn't stop herself even if she wanted to (what does she want?). She can feel his warm breath ghosting over her lips and she has the improbable, ridiculous thought - how is he remembering to breathe? - before he speaks. His lips brush against hers with every soft word and a deep shiver runs through her body.

"I," she hears him say, his voice so, so low, "haven't been able to think since last week."

That's all she needs to hear, the brush of his bottom lip against hers all she needs to feel, to push her into closing what minuscule distance there is between them and then his lips are on hers and it's better than anything she's been imagining. His mouth is soft against hers, insistent, and her hands go up to grip the collar of his plaid jacket to make sure he doesn't go away or disappear on her.

She knows she's behaving wantonly, snogging Sebastian Sallow in the middle of the hallway where anyone could come across them, but third period has only just started and besides, she has had a week of restless nights being tortured by thoughts of him. A week of a few hours of sleep found here and there. Just one kiss should be enough to help her get over these strange feelings, right? She only feels like this because having him lie on top of her after he crashed into her - that satisfying weight of him - the friction of his thumb brushing against her nipple - had made her realize just how stupid she had been, holding this grudge against him for -

She whimpers in protest but it quickly turns into a moan as his mouth moves away from hers and down to her neck. He pulls at her tight collar desperately - she hears some seams ripping - to give him better access to it, and she finds herself arching her back and pushing her body closer to his as he nuzzles her neck with his nose before giving it open, sloppy kisses. When he hears her, he moves back to kissing her, greedily capturing every breathy moan that comes out of her mouth, but the noises coming from him are matching hers, and at the sound she feels an unfamiliar clenching deep in her stomach. Her fingers come up to his hair, going through the silky curls over and over - how are they as soft as his lips? - and he slowly pushes her back until she's sandwiched between his warm body and the cold stone of the wall behind her.

He lets out a low, frantic growl as a hand goes to grip the back of her head, holding her in place as he slants his mouth over hers. He tastes like cinnamon and...like something forbidden. What has gotten into her? She hates him, and yet...

They have abandoned any pretense of propriety - had they ever even been trying? - by this point. His tongue swipes across her lips and then she is completely lost to him, to every sensation of his mouth, and tongue, on hers. His large hands - the wicked hands that had been caressing her palm and had caused this whole mess in the first place - have moved to her waist and are pulling her even closer to him. When he pulls away briefly, she whines in protest, opening her eyes to glare at him. The sight of him, flushed and breathless, his eyes wide and pupils dilated - must match her own appearance because she sees the same hunger she feels in his eyes. She has never seen Sebastian Sallow so disheveled, but she finds she quite likes it and tugs on his curls with a whine. He obliges eagerly, bringing his mouth back to hers.

She's pressed as tightly against him as she can possibly be, and yet it still isn't enough. Her back arches once again, trying to find something, and then he slots one of his knees between her legs. She moans at the friction caused by his movements, can feel an unfamiliar slickness forming at the juncture between her legs, and this seems to spur him on further as his kisses get more desperate and sloppy. She moves against his leg, trying to relieve some of her discomfort, gasping into his mouth, when -

They freeze. Even if they are fully, completely, absorbed by...whatever this is, they can't ignore the strange, metallic clanking sound coming from their left. Sebastian pulls his head back from her slowly, reluctantly, breathing heavily, and looks over to see what the noise is. She wants to, but all of a sudden the horrifying reality of what they've been doing sinks in and oh god what if the noise is a person? Someone who has now seen her in what might possibly be the most mortifying moment of her life - desperately snogging Sebastian Sallow - and she finds she can't look over. She tucks her head into his neck to hide her face as she listens.

"I demand that you get away from her at once, you knave! Cease your attack!"

The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but she's certain that it doesn't belong to any of her classmates. He almost sounds...medieval, but -

"I made haste when I heard sounds of distress coming from down the hallway," the voice continues, "and it appears I have arrived not a moment too soon!"

She brings her head away from Sebastian's shoulder but still refuses to look over at whoever is speaking, instead choosing to stare at Sebastian's face. He's still deliciously flushed from their snogging, still breathing heavily, but now he looks terribly confused. His brows are furrowed, mouth opening and closing as he tries to come up with a response to the outrage currently being directed at him.

The unknown man is continuing his diatribe, almost not even stopping to breathe as he gets more and more worked up, and she hears some more clanking as he reaches a particularly exciting moment in his rant. Sebastian looks increasingly confused, but still shields her with his body, not moving away from her at all despite the accusations.

Her curiosity gets the better of her and she peeks over to see who it is.

The man who has been reprimanding Sebastian so boldly is none other than Sir Cadogan. Although she's never interacted with him directly, she often hears him yelling at his pony as she passes his portrait on her way to Divination. The knight is standing between two witches having tea, who are glaring at him quite angrily as he gesticulates wildly - every movement of his sword comes dangerously close to their display of cakes and sandwiches and it looks like he has already broken some plates. His armor is ill-fitting and loose on him, which explains the terrible noise.

"You rascally knave! I assure you that you do not want to find out what will happen to you if you do not unhand the fair maiden."

He brandishes his sword again, and the woman closest to him quickly snatches her tea cup away to save it from being broken as well. "Come now, Sir Cadogan," she says, exasperated. "Can't you see that these two are in love?"

The other woman joins her protests, nodding vigorously. "Yes, exactly that. Leave them be!"

"Nonsense," he exclaims. "I too have succumbed to my baser instincts on occasion and I can assure you that this is decidedly not what is occurring."

As Sir Cadogan continues to alternate between lecturing her and Sebastian, and directing his two attention to the ladies who are defending them, she looks back to the boy in question. Sebastian is looking down at her, a bemused smile on his lips and she feels a twinge in her chest. His face is still so close to hers that if she wants to, they could be snogging again with barely any effort and her eyes briefly flicker down to his tempting mouth before going back to his eyes, but...

What had gotten into her? What is she doing?

He had somehow managed to manipulate her again, because there is no way that this situation could have happened otherwise. All of a sudden, the anger she's been feeling for the past year and a half - that had left for a brief, blissful moment - surges again, and she pushes Sebastian away from her with as much force as she can muster. She almost feels bad as the happiness in his face turns to confusion, then frustration as he realizes she's getting away from him.

"Stay away from me," she hisses, picking up her discarded schoolbag from its spot on the ground. As she stalks down the hall, she can hear Sir Cadogan cheering on her bravery over the ringing in her ears.

She has a lot of thinking to do.

Sebastian Sallow's List of Priorities (in no particular order):

Figure out what the hell I'm going to do when I graduate;

Figure out how the hell I'm going to finish this bloody Charms essay before tomorrow; and

Figure out what the hell is going on between us

Sebastian sits in an undisturbed corner of the library - nobody ever comes to this table because it's tucked away between shelves of incredibly dense magical theory books - and is twirling his quill in his fingers, watching the ink splatter on the list he spent his precious time writing instead of the Charms essay he should be working on. He's far away from the first-years who like to congregate by the windows and watch the leaves fall softly to the ground rather than study for their classes. He's made especially sure that he is far, far away from her.

It's not his choice, mind you, but he needs to be a gentleman about these things. If she needs some time and space to figure out that she's as crazy for him as he is her, fine. But even Sebastian Sallow's patience runs thin, and he's not sure how much longer he can give her to come to her senses before he snaps and takes matters into his own hands. If things were up to him, the two of them would be sitting far too close together now in this secluded corner, and maybe he would need to put a hand over her mouth to ensure her complete silence as he runs a hand up her thigh.

Now that he knows what delicious sounds can come out of her mouth - sounds that he caused - he's been having a hard time concentrating on, well, anything. Sebastian surreptitiously glances across the library to where she's sitting and studying with his sister and Imelda. Ever since the events after their Divination class, Sir Cadogan has taken it upon himself to follow Sebastian around the halls of the castle, tripping through frames and disrupting their inhabitants as he lectures Sebastian on love. The tea party women had managed to convince the knight that he had disrupted an amorous exchange, and Sebastian fervently wishes they hadn't.

The whole school is abuzz with rumors about who it could be. Nobody has even come close so far with their guesses, but Anne and Imelda are having too much fun teasing him about it. Somehow, she has managed to avoid suspicion - he wonders how this is even possible, since she's never been able to hide what she's thinking. He makes eye contact with her - has she been staring at him this whole time? - and she flushes before looking over to Imelda, who's laughing too loudly at something Anne's just said. Sebastian can't tear his eyes away from her profile, his eyes following the curve of her eyebrow, the slight upturn of her lips as she smiles at her friends, her eyes as they dart back to him, her cheeks as she turns an even darker shade of red as she realizes he's still watching her. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, and rests her chin on her hand as she tries to look absorbed in what Anne is saying to her.

Sebastian wonders if she's thought about him as much as he's thought about her. Judging by how she had snogged him back, he's positive that she feels the same way, but then he remembers how she had looked at him before she fled, and he's not so sure. He sighs as he looks back to his list, bringing his quill back to the third item and ripping the paper as he crosses it out again. His mind has been going in circles since that moment and he doesn't know what to think. He slowly puts everything into his schoolbag before heading out of the library for yet another freezing cold shower that hopefully tempers his now-permanent state of arousal whenever she's around.

He doesn't notice her eyes following him as he walks out of the library.

He doesn't hear her hurried excuse to Anne and Imelda as she shoves her things into her bag and rushes to follow him.

He doesn't hear her light footsteps as she gets closer to him.

When she puts a hand out to touch his arm as he waits for the moving staircase to stop, with a soft, "Sebastian" accompanying it, he nearly jumps out of his skin. He was so absorbed with thoughts of her, that to see her standing at his side, closer than she had been since they kissed was almost his snapping point.

"Can we talk?" she asks, looking almost embarrassed as she avoids his eyes. She instead looks determinedly at his collar. He thinks she probably notices that he swallows nervously before acquiescing, but she says nothing as she turns and starts hurrying away from him without waiting to see if he follows her.

She must know that he would follow her anywhere at this point.

They weave through hallways - Sebastian vaguely wonders where exactly they're going - before reaching a little alcove, hidden by a suit of armor. She looks around before pulling him into it. It's almost curfew and the halls are never that busy when the weather is as beautiful as it has been these days - the end of September seems to be clinging on to the summer for as long as possible.

Her lips are on his before he can even ask her what she needed to talk with him about, hungry and desperate. Sebastian is too stunned to pull away - not that he would actually want to. Her arms wrap around his neck, keeping Sebastian close, slender fingers sliding through his hair.

"What," she says breathlessly between kisses - almost not even moving her mouth away from his enough to be able to enunciate properly, "are you doing to me? I haven't been able to think for the last month."

Sebastian smiles into her mouth, wondering if she knows that she's repeating the very thing he told her two weeks ago. Maybe she has been thinking of him all this time - he almost hopes that she's been suffering as much as he has. Instead of responding, he moves a hand to cup her jaw, deepening the kiss. His other hand moves to her waist, gripping it tightly, pulling her flush against his body and she gasps into his mouth. He slowly moves her closer to the window alcove behind them, snogging her senseless the whole time. She moans into his mouth which just spurs him on further - her skirt rides up to her hips as Sebastian trails a hand up her stockinged thigh and they both gasp when his hand reaches skin. Her skin is so, so soft and her breathing gets faster as he continues to caress her inner thigh, closer to the bend between her thigh and her center. Sebastian wonders if she's ever been touched there before by someone else and jealousy flares up inside of him at the thought.

In one swift move, he scoops her up and places her so that she's sitting on the window-ledge, the dusky light of the sunset illuminating her from behind and making her wispy flyaway hairs a golden halo around her. Sebastian's breath catches in his throat - has he ever seen anything so beautiful as her in that moment? - she's staring up at him, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, her breathing shallow and anticipation in her eyes. "You're," he starts saying and his throat goes dry. He brings a hand up to tuck the errant lock of hair - the one she had tucked earlier in the library - behind her ear and she leans her head into his touch, closing her eyes briefly before looking up at him again with wide eyes. "You're perfect."

She smiles faintly and pulls his head back down towards hers and now she's brushing her lips against his, teasing him, before it's too much and he grips the back of her head, holding her in place as he crushes his mouth against hers in a bruising kiss. Her knees are on either side of his waist, and she desperately grinds her core against his throbbing erection and they both groan at the friction. Sebastian moves his hands down to her thighs again as he kisses her, slowly caressing his way up and pushing her skirt up further until it's completely bunched around her waist. She gasps into his mouth at his first tentative touch after he pushes aside her undergarments. Sebastian swipes a finger up her slit, through the slick that coats it, and then he starts circling her clit with slow, even strokes. She shivers against him - at his touch - clinging tightly to his shoulders and gasping into his mouth as he continues.

Every little noise coming out of her mouth, feeling how wet she is, how the slickness keeps growing growing growing makes Sebastian hungry for more - it isn't enough -

Slowly - so slowly - he wants to savor this moment - he lowers himself until he's kneeling between her legs and he looks up at her. Her face is deliciously flushed, all swollen lips and hair in a wild cloud around her face and all she can do is stare down at him. Her chest is heaving and she tries to close her legs - hide what is exposed to him - but he holds her thighs firmly in place on either side of his head. He turns his head and kisses her inner thigh, maintaining eye contact as he swipes his tongue across where he's just kissed, moving closer towards her slick center.

"Oh," she breathes, not-quite-a-word, not-quite-a-gasp, when his mouth reaches her center and hovers over it, lips slowly teasing her the way she had just teased him. Sebastian tentatively runs his tongue up her slit; the loud moan she lets out when he reaches her clit makes him stay there, applying light and not-so-light pressure in equal measure.

Her hands are scrabbling at his hair, digging into his scalp, ruining his earlier attempts to make it look presentable, hopefully attractive, for her these days. She's pushing his head deeper into the space between her legs, starting to rock herself slightly on his mouth, and Sebastian is happy to oblige. He eagerly laps up her slit, and the obscene wet noises as he continues combined with her whimpers and barely-spoken profanities "oh-yes-fuck-yes-there-please-" are making him hard beyond belief. He's straining against his trousers, begging to be let free. Without moving his face from her, he unbuttons his trousers and starts palming himself, using the slickness weeping out of the tip as lubrication.

She's abandoned all control at this point, grinding herself into his face as he laps her up, and it's driving him wild - knowing that he's doing this to her - causing her to be so undone. Normally she's so poised and aloof, never letting any real emotion flicker across her face, so to see her so desperate and needy and wanting him so -

Sebastian's gasping into her, tongue deep inside of her, "ohmygod" he hears her whisper, her hips driving into his face when she shudders and goes still, pulsing around the tongue that's deep inside of it. He slows down, smiling as he continues to run his tongue up her slit until she's responsive again. He kisses her inner thigh and hears her moan before getting up, caressing a finger down her love-struck face and leaning his head down to kiss her deeply. With his other hand he's still touching himself - the thought that she can taste herself on his tongue driving him crazy - and he starts rubbing its blunt head against her swollen clit. She takes it out of his hand- he groans at the feeling of her soft hands (the hands he had held a week ago in Divination and pictured doing this exact thing) tentatively caressing his length before she begins to slide it up and down her slit, coating it in her wetness.

Sebastian has surrendered all control to her - resting his hands on either side of her hips on the windowsill, tucking his head into the crook of her neck and thrusting with her movements as he loses himself in the sensation of sliding through her slick folds. He can feel his release building building building, and when he finally comes, all over her perfect, pink center, it feels like a finally.

Sebastian feels so, so heavy as he pulls his head away from her shoulder, as if he could fall into a blissful sleep right there, in the little window alcove where they've hidden themselves away. The sun has now set completely and they're in shadow as they stare at each other, the sound of their ragged breathing filling the tiny space.

"Sebastian, I..."

She's staring at him with an unfathomable expression on her face, still holding him in her hand, her other hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. They look down and he feels his face heat up even more at the mess he's made - he quickly pulls out his wand and cleans her up, before looking back at her, giving her a wry smile as he buttons up his pants and helps her off the ledge. "What did you want to talk to me about, again?"

She gives a slight shake of her head and looks away, but she can't hide the small smile that's growing on her face just like she can't help her eyes that keep wandering over to his. He knows the growing smile on his face matches hers - did that really just happen? She reaches over to lace her fingers through his as they walk around the suit of armor. "I - it's not important."

"Come on," he says, not being able to resist the opportunity to tease her - he's somehow managed to break through the barriers she's set up around her, and he's not about to let the opportunity slide. "Surely that's not what you had in mind when you..."

Sebastian trails off as he sees the expression in her face turn to one of horror - he didn't think his teasing was that bad, was it? - but she's also pulling her hand out of his like she's been burned and -

He follows her gaze, to where it's fixed at the end of the hallway and he knows that once again his face mimics hers. He will never live this down.

Standing at the end of the hallway and looking like two cats who've just found a huge dish of milk, are his sister and Imelda.

Misery.

Complete and utter misery are what she's feeling, if she has to put it into words, which she does. Writing things down always helps her out, helps her organize her thoughts into some sort of order. Except...this time around, it's not really helping. She can't seem to make any sense of her feelings for Sebastian.

She looks over the muddled mess of words she's written down - stream of consciousness, incomprehensible babble - and sighs. She's been dreaming of falling in love since she was a young girl - Jane Austen will do that to you - and can't believe that now that she's had her opportunity, it has to go and be with Sebastian Sallow. Because it has to be love, hasn't it?

There can be no other explanation for the painful way her stomach twists itself up whenever she catches a glimpse of him these days, the way he's consuming her every thought - even when she's dreaming she can't escape him. She can't get the sight of his tousled curls between her legs, his mischievous, warm brown eyes looking up at her as she had the most mind-numbing, toe-curling orgasm of her life - none of the times she's touched herself have ever come close to the sensations he managed to evoke.

Every time she's walking through the hallways between classes and hears his loud voice as he jokes with Garreth, or Ominis, about quidditch or Merlin-knows-what her eyes snap to his face as if he were the sun, and she a sunflower searching for its warmth. And he is most decidedly not the sun. He has the tendency to snort when he laughs, and he laughs too much, especially at his own jokes. Sometimes he talks while he eats. He always twirls his quill between his long fingers in the most annoying way, splattering ink onto any parchment unfortunate to be caught underneath. But he also...

He also always goes out of his way to prepare Ominis's Potions ingredients (why Ominis decided to take and was accepted into NEWT level is a mystery to everyone), occasionally stops to play a round of gobstones with Zenobia when he has the time. Sebastian can often be found in his favorite armchair in the Slytherin common room, resting his face on his hand as he idly flips through the pages of some book, looking altogether too handsome as he does so. And when he stretches and yawns at the end of every Arithmancy lesson - like he is now - his shirt lifts up a bit and she can see a tan sliver of his stomach and -

Snapping in front of her: she blinks and looks over: when she sees it's Imelda her face immediately turns beet red and she grabs the paper she's been doodling on and rips it to shreds as fast as she can.

"Are you fantasizing about a certain annoying someone?" Imelda asks with a wicked grin, dramatically looking over her shoulder at the certain someone in question. He's still stretching, blinking sleepily; when he notices the two girls watching him he flushes deeply. Her stomach twinges again at the sight of him noticing her - has he thought about her since that moment as much as she has? What would she do if he had? Or...if he hadn't? - and she focuses instead on the paper she is currently destroying.

"Imelda," she hisses, glaring at her best friend, "stop."

Imelda does not stop.

Imelda doesn't stop during their walk to Herbology, and she does not stop as they set up their planting stations, and she most certainly does not stop as they mutter charms over their plants.

Ever since she experienced the most wonderful moment in her whole life, followed by the most mortifying, Anne and Imelda have not stopped pestering her about it. They've finally solved the 'Sir Cadogan Puzzle' - I knew it was you all along, claims Anne - but if they truly knew what had happened between her and Sebastian, she's afraid the two of them would simply combust. She loves them dearly, but they never know when to stop, and they've been pushing and poking and prodding her for more information the whole week. She has managed to remain tight-lipped and, she hopes, mysterious about the whole thing, but she's getting tired of the teasing.

"Really," Anne says, wiping her forehead and leaving a trail of dirt behind, "if you would only talk to him, I would stop bothering you. Promise."

"Yes," chimes in Imelda, on her other side, wrestling the leaves of her own plant into submission. "You know, after we saw the two of you holding hands and looking at each other with stars in your eyes, I'm really starting to doubt that you hate him as much as you claim."

"Were the two of you snogging in secret all of last year too? Because, I'm starting to get annoyed thinking of all the times I had to talk to my brother for you because of your stubborn pride."

Does she still hate him? She certainly thinks she should, but then her thoughts get terribly confusing as she continues to think about him, and she realizes all of her old hatred has long since faded. Anne has forgiven her brother, Ominis has forgiven him, and all that remains is her.

They should talk, but she doesn't know what to say.

She's afraid that maybe the man she's been inventing in her mind this past month is simply a figment of her imagination - a fictitious being created by an accumulation of stolen glances when he doesn't know she's watching, someone who all of their classmates seem to like, someone who is very different from the fifteen-year-old boy she had that terrible argument with all that time ago. Maybe he doesn't actually exist.

She would be crushed if he's hiding the fact that he still holds on to that desperate darkness that had driven him to save Anne by any means necessary.

And so she keeps her space. She watches him from afar, feeling the hatred slowly melt off of her, falling more in love every day, but too cowardly to make the next move.

Anne and Imelda continue bantering on either side of her, not noticing - or, more likely, not caring - that she isn't participating.

Sebastian's hands are sweating. He wipes them on the inside of his robes as he glances at the girl next to him. She's holding herself rigidly, but she did this to herself, sitting next to him at dinner as she had.

Well, sitting next to him hadn't been completely her idea if he's being honest. He'd been having dinner with Anne, and the two of them were dying of laughter as she recounted seeing Duncan Hobhouse get tormented by Peeves earlier that day. One moment, Anne had been demonstrating what she had seen using her potatoes and green beans as props, and the next, a particularly evil grin had lit up her face as she pushed her plate away with gusto and jumped to her feet, calling her over.

"It would be such a shame for these potatoes to go to waste, seeing as I have a very important meeting to attend," Anne had said, after pushing her friend into the very tight space at Sebastian's side. "Never mind the mess, I can assure you I didn't actually eat the food..."

And with that, Anne had flounced away, Imelda on her arm, the two girls cackling to each other as they snuck wicked glances over their shoulders at the couple.

A couple who is now steadfastly avoiding each other and trying their hardest not to even brush elbows. Sebastian is altogether too aware of her presence, has been for the better part of a month, and his patience is dangerously close to snapping. He keeps getting maddeningly close to finally getting her to open up to him - had actually achieved it for a few blissful moments - just to have it be taken away again. It's almost embarrassing how many times he's thought about their encounter. She had been everything he'd been dreaming about and more - soft, responsive, just as desperate as him - so why has she been avoiding him so thoroughly?

Yes, he's caught her staring at him more times than he can count, with that same unfathomable expression she had before, almost dreamy - wistful - could it be love? But he knows that it's preposterous, wishful thinking on his part. If it were love - if she felt the same crazy, tumultuous emotions that he was feeling constantly - she wouldn't be so cold towards him. Even if she was staring at him more than ever before.

He doesn't notice as she slips a folded paper into the book sitting next to his plate, but he does notice that she sits next to him for barely five minutes, not even touching the food that Anne has so graciously left her, before she gets up and slips away without so much as speaking a single word to him, or even looking in his direction at all.

Sebastian's sitting in a nearly empty common room after curfew, flipping through his book as he normally does this time of day, when she sees him pause.

Although she's been waiting for this moment, watching him from the corner she's tucked herself away in, she feels ready to pass out from nerves. Her heart's ready to burst out of her chest as she watches him curiously pick up the letter she slipped in his book earlier, brow furrowed. She wrings her hands nervously as she watches him read the letter and flip over the page to see if there's more, and then he goes back to read it again from the beginning.

She wasn't expecting him to read it a second time, let alone a third time, still with an inscrutable expression on his face. Maybe she should have positioned herself closer so she could see every emotion flickering through his face as he reads - she's too far away to see anything and she curses her lack of foresight. If she moves now, he'll see her, and she doesn't even know what she was thinking when she wrote the letter, when she managed to convince Anne to help her get close to Sebastian earlier that night during supper, when she moved herself to sit in this corner just so she could watch him find and read the -

"Hello."

She nearly jumps out of her skin with a muffled shriek at the sound of his voice so close to her. Why does she feel almost guilty when she looks up at him? She's so, so afraid.

Emotions have never come easily to her. Showing them is something she's not sure will ever come naturally - Anne and Imelda can laugh and shout without a care in the world, but she always holds herself back. Hides a small part of herself away, that only she knows about. Baring herself completely to Sebastian in the letter she feverishly wrote the day before was like ripping out a part of her soul and giving it to him to keep. Once the words were written down, there was no way to take them back, not that she wants to.

But what if he rejects her?

Her eyes get hot and tears cloud her vision as she stares up at him, still wringing her hands together over and over, feeling like she's positively going to burst with the force of the emotions roiling around inside of her. Why did she think this would be a good idea?

Now he's kneeling in front of her, holding her hands in his bigger, rougher ones - reminiscent of that fateful day so long ago in Divination when he had flustered her so - and a thumb is gently wiping away the big, fat tears she didn't even realize were rolling down her cheeks and she lifts her face from watching their intertwined hands and gazes tremulously into his eyes.

They are so, so gentle and warm and full of love, but the emotions are still too much for her and she can't stop crying for some unfathomable reason, so the kiss they share is wet and lovely and full of incredulous laughter.

"I love you too," he whispers between kisses, over and over again, until the words almost lose meaning - but these words could never lose their meaning when they come from him.

In the years to come, they always bicker about who was the first to say it. Sebastian says that writing doesn't count - that his words are the ones that decide who is the victor in this small argument - but she always just smiles at his insistence, knowing that he's kept her letter tucked inside whatever book he's reading since it first fell onto his lap.

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mothinkling · 17 days ago

Note

What do you think the Touchstarved Characters would do if you tried to leave Eridia pre/post and established relationship or just as friends?

IF YOU TRIED TO LEAVE (TOUCHSTARVED X GN!READER)

Summary: Pre/Post-Relationship HC for if you tried to leave Eridia.

TW: Mentions of NSFW, violence, manipulation and heavy angst.

A/N: First request yippeeee! This was a lot of fun to think about, thank you so much for this request!

Vere; 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

Pre-Relationship:

♡ "Can't take the heat, darling?"

♡ He'll think your weak for not wanting to stick around a place crawling with thieves and monsters and people like him.

♡ Prepare for the snidest waggle goodbye of his fingers, perhaps he'll even wipe a tear or two away from his eyes like a lover going off to war.

♡ Asshole.

♡ The only way he'd ever stop you from leaving is if you've left quite an impression on him, leaving him curious enough to want you to stay.

♡ 50 percent change he'd let you go.

Post-Relationship:

♡ At first, he'd likely think you weren't being serious, or this was some sort of test to see how he'd react to the possibility of you leaving him.

♡ He'd sneer and tease you, oh, did you really think i'd get on my knees and beg for you?

♡ I mean, he's finally decided to give you the time of day, why would you give that up now?

♡ Then he'd realize you were intent on this, perhaps already in the motion of trying to leave Eridia, leave him.

♡ Desperation would well in him, he's gotten close to you; gotten attached despite himself, despite swearing he'd never love a human.

♡ He wouldn't want to show how desperate he is, instead he'd try to fuck you for a distraction-- his tail running up your back and leg a little more needily than normal.

♡ If you still push him away, intent on leaving him to return to whatever you're trying to get to outside the city walls.

♡ He'd blow up.

♡ Anger would be used to hide the crushing pain of betrayal and abandonment, the tantrum he'd throw would be destructive in his whirlwind of emotions.

♡ He'd have the temperament of a god being told no for the first time, because that's exactly what's happening.

♡ He'd blame everything and everybody else except for himself that you're leaving, perhaps even going on a rampage on the first plausible thing or person that's taking you away.

♡ 10 percent chance he'd let you go.

Ais; 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

Pre-Relationship:

♡ In a way he's kind of glad.

♡ Leaving the city would mean you chose not to drink from the spring, saving you from the hive-mind.

♡ Of course he's disappointed that you're leaving, he was just starting to get to know you after all.

♡ But he'd let you go- it's your choice after all, and he doesn't exactly blame you for not wanting to stay in a cesspit like Eridia.

♡He'll even lend you a soulless on your journey through the wastelands, enough to ensure a safe destination and so his perfect pet can tell him exactly where you went.

♡ 90 percent chance he'd let you go.

Post-Relationship:

♡ At least somewhat more level-headed than Vere and Leander (though not by much).

♡ He'd ask why, why is his sparrow trying to fly free when the cage he's offered has anything you could want or need?

♡ He'd assume it was someone driving you away, someone hurting you until you felt the need to flee, naturally he'd offer to beat the shit out of anyone who's threatened his sparrow.

♡ If that isn't the case or simply doesn't work, then he'd finally crumble.

♡ He wouldn't blow up at you, but he might punch the wall in frustration; gritting his teeth to try and clench back the tears stinging at his eyes.

♡ He doesn't want to look weak, especially not now.

♡ 70 percent chance he'd let you go.

Leander; 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

Pre-Relationship:

♡ Oh, you really think you'd get to leave?

♡ Silly, silly little thing.

♡ The moment he catches any sort of whiff of the idea of you leaving, likely from the bloodhound's constant rumor mill that always flows back towards him he doesn't like to be left out it wouldn't take long.

♡ He'd be 'casual' about it, he'd likely not even bring it up; the bigger his reaction the less likely you are to trust him.

♡ But oh, look at this! what a promising lead, something almost game-changing when it comes to the never-ending search for a cure.

♡ Isn't that just so coincidental? that he'd dangle something so tempting in front of your eyes, now what was that about leaving, again?

♡ 10 percent chance he'd let you go.

Post-Relationship:

♡ Ơ̷͍̞̤̟͎͔͔̍̈́͊͋̉ḫ̷͍͋̉̒̍̀̈́̏,̴͍͍́́̌͂̽͠ ̶̼͕͉̭̪̞̦̋̿̆̋̈̓ỹ̴̢͇͎̥͈̋̉͗̓̍͛͒̚ó̷̹̺̹̂̓͜ů̸͉ ̸̼̰̘̹͙̞̊̌r̵͕̤̗̔̉̋̂͊̂̏̂̕̚e̴̛͖̭̽̋̏̐̅̈́͋͝͝ǎ̴̹̻̥͙̪̝̮̈́̏̑̾̕ͅͅl̷̼̳̺̱̹̦̼̊̋̓̈́́̒́̕ĺ̶̜̒̐̐̉̚y̷̩̻͓̝̓͑̀̀ ̸̘̩̩̲̳̬͂̾ͅt̴̛̹̜͇͈̳̦̗̳̏͂̏̂h̷̨̛̜̪͓̩͚̟͕͒̃́͋̀̿͜i̸̲̯͍̼̒͊͐̽̅̈̃̈́̄̀ͅn̸̡͚̖͍̳̭̼͍̜̦̉̋͒͑̀̀̾͠k̷̩̲͗̈̋̉͆̔ ̶̨̯̘͍̓̔͑̒̾̂̀̾͝͝ȳ̴̨̛͚̺͙͚͖̪̯̠̖̋͋̓̋̐ö̴̡̤̯͖̰́͊͑̍͑ų̴̛͕̪̊̇͘͠͝'̸͖̣̑̋̿͛̍̅̂͗̌ͅd̵̞̘͍̗̗̳̅̄̆̍̈́͛̓͑̓͜ͅ ̶̨̛̲̪͋̓͊̉́͛̊̚g̸̡̪͇̣̥͔̹̥̿̏̐̈́̋̏͜ę̶̹̗̼͚̣̼͚̓̿̐̾͒̒͂̒̕ţ̶̱̺̫̱̗͖̤̏̎͐́̊̓̀̕͝ ̶̨̨̰̫̦̟̮̥̲͋̈̔̈́́͑͋́̊t̴̛̥͎͇̰͊͌͗̀̑̉̕͘͜͝o̸̻͉͎̎̅͆́͗̐̾ ̷͔͓͇̮̺̣͓̭̺̮̑̒̿̈́l̸̮̗̮̥̤̈́̇̀̃́̕ḛ̴̡͍͚͓̻̱́͑̐̋̈́̄͌͘͠ą̶͎̫͖̙̟̩͙̊͋͐͊̈́̑͑ͅv̴͓͖̰̘̣͓̎͋̾̔͛ȇ̷̦̑̓̅̽̋͐̃̕͝?̵̧̙͈͍̮̌͆͋͐

♡ Yeah, good luck with that, it'd be easier fighting a soulless with your arms torn off than to ever convince him.

♡ This time he'd be forced to confront you about it, about why you'd ever want to leave someone who's been so kind, so perfect to you.

♡ His desperation would start to slip through, the oh-so-promising lead he'd dangle in front of you feeling far more forced than before.

♡ You might even wonder why he hadn't told you before, if he'd made such a breakthrough.

♡ His perfect facade would start to crack and crumble at the floor beneath your feet, the floor he'd sink to his knees to as he embraced your legs.

♡ It'd be a sad, pathetic sight.

♡ A grown man sniffling and begging for you not to leave him, to leave us in pursuit of whatever trivial thing you're leaving to find.

♡ Don't you just feel so bad for him? how could you do this to someone who's given you so much, and asked for so very little in return?

♡ At least verbally.

♡ His face would be red as he crawled towards you with a needy, distressed look in his eyes, practically clawing against you like a dog.

♡ He'd also try to distract you with sex, try to show you how amazing being with him could feel if you just stay, practically humping against your leg as he looks up at you.

♡ 0̸̠͌̒́͌͛̈̍ per̵cȅ̷̺͍̠͎̇͝n̴͐̑t̸͆͘ chance he'd let you go.

Mhin; 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

Pre-Relationship:

♡ It was to be expected, they'd reason to themself.

♡ They're far from surprised, but far less judgmental than Vere; they've seen the horrors that go on in Eridia firsthand and not everybody has the guts to deal with it.

♡ Which they aren't afraid to say to your face, they never believed someone like you could take it.

♡ So mean.

♡ It's likely they won't even bother to say goodbye, or offer any sort of well-wishes for wherever you're heading next.

♡ 100 percent chance they'd let you go.

Post-Relationship:

♡ Poor things been burned by love so many times, they'd feel foolish for expecting this time to be any different.

♡ Their icy walls would shoot back up the moment you told them, enough that if you couldn't read them well at that point; you might assume they didn't care.

♡ But the clench of their jaw and the way they avoid eye-contact like it'll burn them is enough of a telltale sign.

♡ They don't even want to hear the reason why you're choosing to leave, their only thought is to just get out of there.

♡ The last thing they want is for you to see them vulnerable any more times than you already have, they've already been shoved away.

♡ And if their curse has anything to do with their emotional state, for your own safety it might be good to let them melt a bit more.

♡ When you do get the chance to talk to them, they'll ask why, what was the point of toying with them like this if only to leave?

♡ If it's the fault of someone else, you could already see their hand tightening around the delicate handle of their blade.

♡ But if it isn't, they'll growl you off, the anger in their eyes would be used to hide the wetness of tears.

♡ Better to pretend like you don't want something, than to admit you can't have it, little dove.

♡ 90 percent chance they'd let you go.

Kuras; 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

Pre-Relationship:

♡ "I'd strongly advise against that."

♡ He's genuinely baffled on why you'd ever want to leave Eridia, especially after everything it took to get you here in the first place.

♡ He doesn't understand human emotions, leading him to think only logically about your situation; Eridia is your highest chance of finding a cure to your curse, why ever would you wish to give that up?

♡ But your choice is your choice, and he'll respect that despite his own reservations.

♡ He'll even go as far as to extend some help along with a goodbye, perhaps something to help you on whatever journey you're going on.

♡ On a more selfish note, he'd be disappointed at the loss of opportunity when it comes to studying you, as he said, it's rare to come across such a fascinating patient.

♡ 90 percent chance he'd let you go.

Post-Relationship:

♡ At first I think he'd simply not grasp what you were saying to him, not because he is dumb by any means-- but he just couldn't comprehend what you were saying.

♡ I mean, do you not have what you wish? he has chosen to return your affections and start a mortal relationship.

♡ At first, he'd suspect something else was at play, ever the analysis angel that he is.

♡ He'd gently grasp at your arms, his voice going soft and sad as he tried to softly coax the answer out of you, prying at you for every reason you'd want to leave.

♡ He might even lower to his knees, enough to make the concerned droop of his eyes almost unavoidable no matter where you look.

♡ He'd be relentless for answers, trying to find some kind of logic behind your reason, something he can solve to get you to stay.

♡ Due to his lack of empathy, he might even dismiss any problems you have that're causing you to leave, they might seem insignificant to him.

♡ He'd be crushed if you still left, even if he wouldn't force you.

♡ He'd find any sort of reason to blame himself, of course you wouldn't want to stay with a monster like him, irradeemable.

♡ But that wouldn't stop him from hovering around you every step of the way, begging and pleading for you to reconsider, offering you anything and everything you could want or need.

♡ But he wouldn't force you to stop, he'd never lay his disgusting, inhumane hands on your perfect flesh.

♡ 80 percent chance he'd let you go.

#vere #kuras #ts leander #leander x mc #mhin #vere x reader #visual novel #touchstarved oc #touchstarved vn #touchstarved game #touchstarved fanfiction #touchstarved #touchstarved leander #touchstarved mhin #touchstarved ais #touchstarved mc #ais touchstarved

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thithesandofferings · 9 months ago

Text

How Touchstarved are they?

~A/N: Random Headcanon. Dont look at me. Came from this excerpt.

~Tags: MDNI 18+. G!Reader. Little sprinkle of Yandere (I mean its Leander come on). Fingering. Overstimming. Orgasm Denial. Everyone is a little pouty and its kinda cute.

Ais

Ais is fine touching you…but only when its on his terms. If you go out of your way to give him affection, he will freeze. And become suspicious. He's going to do all he can to not show you how affected he actually is. But despite his slight avoidance, he likes the game you play and wants to always up the stakes (Even if you have no idea that you're playing the game. You just gave him a hello in greeting). You brush his arm when asking a question, then he's backing you against the wall and kissing you until you forget your question. It was invasive anyways- he probably wasn't gonna answer it. A forehead kiss? Well you're getting fingered in the alleyway behind the bar. He'll cover your mouth cause he wants you to hear the slick sounds of your hole as he gives your g-spot the kiss it deserves. Anyways, don't do anything if you dont want the consequences.

Leander

Leander touch borders on starvation. He pulls and prods and grasps at whatever he can. He thinks he's going to lose you, and its not a sorrowful pitiful feeling. Its targeted, jealousy bleeding from his mouth to yours- and he wants everything you have. Leander borders on overstimming you at every cost. Making you sob from fucking his fingers inside you over and over. He complains that he's touch starved, but you know deep down its more than that. Hunger bleeds into his magic when he's near you. Gets him in the mood to eat you out. No he wont be done with just one or two…or three… There isnt a spell in the world that can stop him from putting his mouth on you. He's greedy and you're his. Fingerprints embedding into your hips and its a staple piece, he gets absolutely pouty when they start to fade. Doesn't ask when he bites into your shoulder hard he murmurs seemingly innocent apologies. He cant help it, he has to.

Mhin

Abhors it. Or so they say. Literally runs from touch as much as possible. At least in the beginning. Shivers wrack their body differently when you brush past them. Hides away for days when you kiss them all over their face. Rubbing your hands down their back will unfortunately get you put on your back. Legs held down and spread as they grumble about how you're too comfortable with touching them. They dont say to stop. Nor are they ever going to say they're grateful. Please do not sit in their laps, pressing up against them as you put your fingers in their hair. Mhin is going to make you stay. It's okay, be good and just take what they give you. Doesnt matter if you're the one crying by the end of it.

Vere Wait because touching means nothing to him really. He's desired by many. But one day he notices how much you mean to him. If you get him to the point of feeling safe. Well he's all over you. Hand on every part of you all the time. You're practically stuck at the hip. Mentioning it will give you a funny quip, but a murderous stare. Not above fucking you in public when someone approaches you in a way he doesn't like. Makes you sit on his cock- hand around your throat, making sure that the plebeian that even graced your presence watches as you take every inch. Gasping out his name is not enough. He wants you louder than the bar patrons bellows of laughter. Grins when he can see people trying hard not to look, the group coughing and adjusting. Just makes his hips bridge into you faster.

Kuras

Kuras has no need for touch. He seems a bit above it. But he can see that you need it. And oh…well thats interesting isn't it? How long can you go without his touch he wonders. Nonchalantly avoids you in disguise of being "busy". His eyes darkening when he can see the need for him in your eyes. Likes that you're starting to shake and even snap at him. Can't really blame him for giving up when you start to paw at his robes begging for anything he can give you. All he has to do is close his hands over yours and he can see the visceral relief in your eyes…and that does something to Kuras. Likes that you clench so tight around him, wet gasps and hiccupping tear reign supreme even over his coos of acknowledgement. Thinking maybe its unsightly for him to feel this sort of pleasure, especially when he pauses just as youre about to come. Rubbing the tears of your flushed face, hushing you. Telling you he's going to give exactly what you want. Just ask for it. Beg for it even. He wonders how far he can go next time. Wonders what you'll do if he pulled out and left you right there. Hmm. Maybe next time.

#touchstarved #touchstarved game #ais x mc #leander x mc #kuras x mc #touchstarved x reader #vere x mc #mhin x mc #ais x reader #leander x reader #mhin x reader #vere x reader #kuras x reader #thithesandofferings

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eggroll-sama · 1 year ago

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People are talking about how Leander will play a huge role in Ais route and possibly get super possessive and competitive with Ais over MC, but are we going to ignore the threat that is Vere?? He was getting a bit hmmm possessiveness over Ais in the 1-1 convo with MC: “you don’t know him. Not like I do.” And not to mention he showed signs of being romantically interested as well: (I thought you didn’t like most people), “Ais isn’t most people. He’s better.” Ok so Vere clearly feels a deep connection with Ais, and as far as we’re concerned Ais is the ONLY person that makes him feel this way in forever. If MC is suddenly brought into the picture in Ais route, how would Vere exactly feel? Replaced? Betrayed? Furious?

Now don’t get me wrong I’m all for a delicious love triangle any day I love the drama and angst that it brings, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Vere kills you in Ais’ route for getting too close, or at least there would be heavy implications that he hates seeing you getting too close with Ais because he thought he was the only that can get personal with Ais. I could see it playing out like Felix and Rime’s route in Last Legacy, but possibly less possessiveness from Vere; technically it was a friends with benefit’s relationship with accidental attachment. Actually scratch that. This is a horror gothic game, so it can take a dark-ass turn with Vere and Ais relationship. Vere over-stepping his boundaries and trying to kill you, then Ais going berserk and confronting Vere >:(. I just know that Vere isn’t going to back down without a fight cuz the moment I saw him blushing I knew. He might legitimately love Ais and I can’t blame him for wanting to kill us for him.

#touchstarved game #touchstarved theory #ts vere #ts ais #Vere #Ais #touchstarved vere #touchstarved ais #ais touchstarved #vere touchstarved

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whizzing-fizzbee · 1 month ago

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What Are Friends For? | Part III

Sebastian Sallow x F!OC

Rating: Explicit/MDNI (smut, language); all characters are 18+ Chapter tags: smut, friends with benefits, friends to lovers, sexual tension, sex, oral sex, mild bondage, light dom/sub, 3rd person POV, happy ending

Notes: We've reached the end! Thank you to everyone who has read and followed along with this little series, and thank you to the kickass anon who requested it. I appreciate all of the feedback and am so grateful for all of you!

➡️ Read on AO3 or below the cut. ⬅️ Read Part 2

Sebastian paced his dorm room. Nevermind it was nearly 2 a.m. Nevermind that Ominis was huffing and puffing as he tossed and turned at the sound of Sebastian’s manic state. Nevermind that Stella was also awake, staring at the ceiling above her own bed just a corridor away.

“Sebastian,” Ominis finally sighed. “Go to sleep, mate.”

“I can’t.”

“And why not? Too busy scheming more ways to thrust me toward Poppy Sweeting?”

Sebastian stopped, his own dilemmas momentarily on pause. “Thrusting?” he mused. “Did something happen between you two?” He could hear Ominis shift between the bedsheets.

“That’s none of your business,” he replied tersely. Sebastian tutted.

“Ominis, I’m the only reason you and Poppy got some alone time to begin with,” he noted. “It’s absolutely my business.”

“No, but it’s absolutely in your best interest to keep your nose in your own affairs and to go to sleep before I hex you.”

“Clearly there was no thrusting between you and Poppy, given how uptight you are,” Sebastian muttered.

“Yeah, then what’s your excuse?”

Sebastian froze. Even in the dark, he could feel the smug satisfaction creeping over Ominis’ features.

“What do you know?” Sebastian demanded.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Ominis muttered. “Clearly, something is going on with you and Stella. The sexual tension is suffocating. I don’t know what’s happened between you two, but you’re fools for trying to conceal it. And you’re clearly losing your damn mind over it.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Liar.”

“Don’t make me set fire to your bed curtains again.”

“Don’t make me turn you in for murder.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes and retreated to his bed. He sat on the edge, peering at nothing as the room fell quiet again, Callum Barclay’s snores the only sound until Sebastian heaved a sigh.

“Ominis,” he finally called out.

“Yes?”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Have you inhaled too many fumes in Potions again?”

“Come off it, mate.”

It was Ominis’ turn to sigh. “No, Sebastian. I’ve never been in love,” he said. “But while I can’t give you any advice on that topic, I can tell you that if you have feelings for a certain dark-haired Slytherin, you’d better tell her. I overheard Leander Prewett and Arthur Plummly talking in Charms class. Prewett’s going to ask her out.”

“What?!”

“Oi, keep your voice down! Some of us have sensitive hearing,” Ominis snapped as Callum stirred briefly.

Sebastian ignored them both. “Leander Prewett? Is that a joke?” he asked.

“Pull your head from your arse, Sebastian. Damn near every bloke in this school’s got a hard-on for Stella,” Ominis noted. “You can’t blame them for showing interest, especially when you’re too cowardly to do it yourself.”

Sebastian swore. Leander Prewett? That pompous Gryffindor with scrambled eggs for brains? Surely he stood no chance with Stella… right?

But Sebastian had seen Stella and Leander spend time together. They often played Summoner’s Court after class and occasionally studied together. What if she harbored secret feelings for him? What if she was picturing Leander every time she was with Sebastian? It was enough to make his stomach lurch.

“Fucking Prewett,” Sebastian growled.

“Oh, for Salazar’s sake,” Ominis hissed. “Surely you can’t be this dense, can you?”

“Huh?”

“I stand corrected,” Ominis muttered. He rolled over so he was facing Sebastian’s side of the room, his voice brimming with annoyance. “Sebastian, she clearly is smitten by you, too. Think about it. Think about everything she’s done for you. She’s nearly died for you. Hell, she probably would if it came down to it. She wouldn’t do any of that if she didn’t love you. She does everything for you."

Sebastian mulled over Ominis’ observations. It was true, Stella went out of her way to support him, and it was always unconditional. She backed him without question, perhaps to a fault at times. But Sebastian had always chalked that up to Stella’s character. She was a fiercely loyal friend and an even better person; a rare pillar of conviction in a world riddled with cowardice and greed. Of course she’d do all of that for him. It didn’t mean she loved him, did it?

But Ominis, despite his lack of eyesight, was the most observant person Sebastian knew. He made up for what he couldn’t see by feeling. He had an inimitable sense for emotion, as if his wand’s crimson, glowing tip had a secret trait for telepathy.

Sebastian flopped backward. The notion that Stella might actually return his feelings confirmed he needed to take initiative before it was too late. He’d fight like hell before he lost her to the likes of Leander Prewett, or he’d die trying.

He’d take a gamble and pray that just once, the odds were in his favor.

—

Stella shied away from breakfast in the Great Hall the following morning; partly because she, too, was lacking sleep and was fearful she looked like a banshee, but mainly because she felt like she was losing her fucking mind.

She should have known this would happen. She was a smart girl, nearly the top of her class. Surely she should have recognized sleeping with the object of her utmost affections was playing with a fire that would swell and spread before it could be tamed. She was in too deep and now she was going to fucking drown in the treacherous sea that was Sebastian Sallow.

Fucking hell. This was her own doing and now she’d have to sort herself out.

She had no choice but to call things off. She’d tell Sebastian she no longer wanted to carry out their arrangement. He wouldn’t mind, right? After all, wasn’t the entire point of their sexual education experience to help him improve for his future partners? Stella was never meant to be the final notch in his belt.

But oh, how she wanted to be. How she wanted to experience Sebastian in seclusion every night. She wanted to explore more of him, to discover what happened when he was relaxed and unbothered, and to find out how it’d feel when she was unleashed. She wanted him raw and unfiltered, free from any fears and implications. She wanted the real Sebastian.

But the dinner hour approached and she was still nowhere to be found. That was by design, of course, as she cowered in her dormitory, too afraid to face Sebastian.

It wasn’t that she was fearful for his reaction. She assumed he wouldn’t care if she withdrew from her role as his casual sex partner. She was terrified of what would happen after that. Would their friendship survive their reckless antics?

When dinner started, Sebastian fidgeted in his seat at the Slytherin table. Stella was clearly avoiding him. But he needed to strike while his resolve was hot. He’d spent the day preparing, gassing himself up to take the risk necessary and prove he was capable of loving her in all the ways she deserved.

Sebastian shoved himself away from the table, ignoring Ominis’ scolding remarks, and returned to the dungeons.

The knock on her dormitory door forced Stella upright in bed. She glanced nervously at the door as ten different decisions plagued her mind. Should she pretend to be asleep? She could always say she’d fallen ill. Perhaps she could merely disappear into thin air, ceasing to exist.

“Come in,” she finally sighed, clinging to the bed covers. The door creaked open and Sebastian’s head surfaced through the crack.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

“Hey.”

“You, er, feeling alright?” Sebastian asked as he strode into the room. The door snapped shut again, leaving Sebastian to linger near the foot of Stella’s bed.

“Oh, I’m feeling fine,” Stella said nonchalantly. “Just wasn’t hungry, is all.”

Sebastian blinked at her. “Stell, in the nearly three years I’ve known you, you’ve never skipped dinner.”

“Well, maybe there’s a first for everything.”

Sebastian sighed and sat at the edge of the bed, his eyes determinedly on Stella’s rather than sneaking a glance at the dip in the neckline of her nightgown. “Stell, what’s going on?” he pressed. It was Stella’s turn to sigh, her feet fidgeting nervously beneath the blanket.

“I don’t think we should… do what we’ve been doing anymore,” she said carefully. Sebastian stilled, hoping the wind that was knocked from him wasn’t visible.

“Oh,” he said as he forced a steady tone. “Wh-why not?”

“I just think we should probably quit before we get too carried away.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No! Not at all, Seb. You’re… you were great.”

“I don’t understand.” And then it hit him. Sebastian’s fists balled, a tell that anger was seeping into his veins and threatening to poison his composure. “Wait. Is this because of Prewett?”

“What?”

“Prewett. You’re going out with him, aren’t you?”

“What?!”

“Be honest.”

Stella was dumbstruck. What on Earth did Leander Bloody Prewett have to do with anything? “Sebastian,” she sputtered. “What are you on about? I’m not going out with anyone, and sure as hell not Leander.”

“Just be honest,” Sebastian repeated hotly. “There’s no need to lie, especially to me of all people. I can take it.”

“Can take what?” Stella’s wide eyes searched him frantically for clarity. “Sebastian, why would I lie about that? If I were going out with someone, of course I’d tell you.”

“Then why don’t you want to… to sleep with me anymore?”

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Bullshit. That’s not a good reason, Stella.”

“I don’t owe you a reason,” Stella snapped. Her eyes were narrow now, piercing him with an aggravation that masked crippling pain. “I said I don’t want to do it anymore.”

But Sebastian saw through her. He’d grown accustomed to her defensive cues, like the way she crossed her arms and the way she sucked her top row of teeth.

“Do you genuinely no longer want to?” Sebastian challenged. “Or are you afraid because you enjoy it too much?”

Stella fought to maintain an expression of indifference, but Sebastian could see the way her nostrils flared. It was another discreet indication of her discomfort, but Sebastian knew to look for it. That was the most challenging part of befriending Sebastian Sallow. He could read Stella with more ease than any of the books stacked at his bedside.

“Fuck off, Sebastian.”

“Tell me the truth and I will. Tell me it’s because you genuinely want to stop and I’ll leave.”

“Why does it matter? Why do you care?”

“Why wouldn’t I care?” Sebastian’s eyes flashed. It wasn’t anger that set them ablaze, but something much more desperate and organic; an exhausted exasperation void of any more fight; a white flag, ready to reveal the truth. “Stella, come on,” he breathed, “Don’t push me away.”

“Sebastian, I’m not. I’m just-”

“You’re just what? If you’re not going out with anyone, why are you suddenly adverse to our arrangement?”

“Because that’s all it is, Sebastian!” Stella blurted out. “All this is to you is a stupid little arrangement.”

“When did I ever say that? When have I ever said this is stupid or meaningless to me?”

“Isn’t it?”

“No.”

Stella blinked. “Oh.”

“Is it meaningless to you?”

“No.”

“Then it sounds like we’re on the same page,” Sebastian said.

“And what page is that, Sebastian? I don’t want to be vague about this.”

Sebastian swallowed, his eyes studying the bed curtains that were pulled to the side. He had to get this right. He had to be open, honest and forthcoming. He had to make his intentions clear and his feelings unmistakable. And he had to show some initiative. “The page where we both admit that we’re more than friends.”

Stella’s pulse beat all the way to her fingertips. The bedsheets became too constrictive, too tight around her legs. She remained rooted in place, paralyzed by the notion none of this was real and she’d wake up in a cold, sorrowful sweat.

“You want to be more than friends?” she finally squeaked.

“Of course, I do.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“Because it’s not a common, everyday dinner discussion.”

“So then why are you telling me now?”

“Because I’m tired of pretending like your mere existence isn’t the driving force for mine.”

There. That was about as blunt as Sebastian could be. It was peak vulnerability – so much so, he began to ponder ways to sink beneath the floorboards, never to be seen again, if Stella rejected him.

Instead, she gazed at him with soft warmth as she gathered her own thoughts in an attempt to find the right words. The ringing in her ears surged to a knee-buckling hum.

“Sebastian,” she started. “You should have told me.”

“Would it have made a difference?”

“Of course it would have.”

Sebastian turned sharply to look at her, his brow furrowed. He looked more alarmed than confused, as if the notion that his feelings weren’t unrequited was a foreign, unchartered concept.

“What exactly are you saying?” he asked sharply. Stella sighed.

“Sebastian, of course I see you as more than a friend,” she said. “I adore you.”

“You what?”

“You heard me.”

“Oh.”

“Now can we stop doing whatever this is?” Stella gestured wildly at nothing. “This silly, stupid dance around the truth? Can we just… be together, open and honestly?”

Sebastian straightened. He wiped his palms against his kneecaps. “Yes,” he breathed.

“Good.” Stella shifted and it became clear to Sebastian that their future was now in his hands. She was waiting, silently begging, for him to act, to prove to her this was all for real.

He kicked his shoes off and turned until he was crawling toward her, their anticipation rising each time his knees dug into the mattress until he was kneeling next to her, cupping her face in his hands.

“You look really beautiful in that,” he murmured, tilting his head as his eyes grazed over Stella’s nightgown. He leaned in to kiss her with a gentle ease, indicative of the soft side only she could bring out. When he pulled away, his fingers traced the neckline of the nightgown until they reached her collarbone. “You’d look better without it, though.”

Stella’s flush seeped across her neck and chest. Sebastian peeled back the covers and she shivered at the loss in warmth, though the chill was fleeting when his hands snaked across the tops of her thighs. His fingers found the hem of the nightgown while his eyes met Stella’s. When she didn’t break their gaze or protest, Sebastian continued, lifting the hem of her nightgown upward, slowly exposing every inch of her form until he was tugging it over her head.

Sebastian’s trousers tightened immediately. The sight of Stella’s bare body splayed out beneath him ignited every nerve ending until he was hot to the touch. But first, he was going to touch her until he ensured she was permanently his.

Sebastian fished his wand from his pocket and studied Stella with intense eyes. “Do you trust me?” he asked.

Stella blinked. “That’s a loaded question," she rasped. Her lips parted in a playful smile and she reached to pull him into a kiss. “You know I trust you. But don’t make me regret it.”

Game on.

“Lay back,” Sebastian ordered. He smirked and flicked his wand toward Stella. “Incarcerous irenen.”

In hindsight, Stella should have seen this coming. Manacles manifested around her wrists and ankles and Sebastian straightened proudly as he admired his handiwork.

"Sebastian!" Stella gasped. "What's gotten into you?"

“Looks like I learned something in the library the other day, after all. Sophronia would be so proud,” Sebastian said smugly.

“Sophronia would hurl herself into the lake if her innocent eyes saw what we were up to."

“Let’s keep that in mind the next time she tries to quiz us in exchange for library books,” Sebastian muttered. He studied Stella to ensure she wasn't bothered. "In all seriousness," he continued, tracing a finger over the curve of her waist, "You've spent these past days helping me, but you've been holding back. Now, it's your turn to let go."

They fell quiet as Sebastian committed the erotic vision of Stella’s shackled form to memory.

“Those aren’t too tight, are they?” he asked.

“No.”

“And you’ll tell me if you want me to stop?”

“Of course.”

“Are you cold?” he asked as he reached a hand toward one of her taut nipples. Stella inhaled sharply through her nose at his touch. He ran the pad of his thumb across it and shifted positions until he was straddling her. “We’ll go nice and slow, okay?” he said, mimicking her own words from the previous day. They were genuine, but there was no mistaking a hint of playfulness.

Sebastian leaned downward to kiss her neck, the remnants of the day’s perfume lingering. His teeth nipped gently at the skin before he proceeded downward, his mouth finding her right breast while his hand cupped the left. His palm relished the soft, yielding flesh as his tongue flattened and flickered over her nipple. He sucked gently until Stella squirmed beneath him.

“Relax,” he ordered with a smirk. Stella swallowed a snide response.

Sebastian’s hands raked over her sides, following the curve of her waist until they found her hips, his mouth still preoccupied by her breasts. He shimmied himself lower until he could press a kiss to each hip bone. Stella’s thigh muscles twitched beneath him.

But Sebastian took his time, his lips grazing across her navel as the tension pulled tighter within her core. Soon, his mouth was dragging over the tops of her thighs, inching inward until Stella’s hips were rising off the bed in eager anguish.

He pressed a kiss just above her slit and she finally issued a pitiful whimper. Sebastian smirked against her skin.

His tongue lapped at her entrance with cruel deliberation – slow, cruel and inhumane. The manacles around Stella’s ankles clinked as she strained against them, desperate to part her thighs more. But Sebastian wasn’t presently concerned about how far her knees could spread. He could do plenty of damage as is.

His tongue ghosted across her clit with such haste, Stella wondered if she’d imagined it. But it returned with more earnestness, pressing and prodding until a moan left her lips. Sebastian rolled his tongue, its repetitious waves weathering against her bud until he could taste her own tide. Stella panted and puffed, her eyes clamped shut as she begged for the final surge.

“Sebastian,” she breathed. “Sebastian, I’m so close.”

More, more, more. That was the phrase on repeat in both of their brains, their insatiable need to indulge in the other on full display.

Sebastian’s fingers sank into the backs of Stella’s thighs as he applied more force, his tongue straining as it labored. He relieved it by sucking against her clit, pulling her release to the fringe of her nerve endings.

With a few more swipes, the straining cord snapped and Stella cried out. Her heels dug into the mattress while her fingernails pierced her own palms, the bindings around her wrists holding steadfast despite the pressure as she strained against them. Spasms surged from her clit until she was left in a spineless state.

“Merlin, you always taste divine,” Sebastian said as he straightened up to study Stella’s expression. She gazed at the ceiling with heavy eyelids, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. Sebastian had initially intended to relieve her of her manacles, but she looked too fucking sinful, her face flushed and limbs bound, to resist.

Sebastian sank his middle finger inside her without warning. Stella gasped as the heel of his palm connected with her clit, still swollen and sensitive. The sounds of her slick release chorused louder as Sebastian pumped his hand, his finger driving inside her as his palm tapped against her clit.

Stella choked through a moan. Sebastian’s finger curled and she could feel it pulling against her front wall, which was already on the twitching cusp of another release.

A few more dabs and Stella was writhing, her hips jutting upward as Sebastian’s finger triggered another climax. Her walls convulsed and the back of her head dug into the pillow, her wrists digging against the restraints.

She whimpered when it was over, unsure if she’d ever recover. The bed curtains blurred into a haze and the quiet dormitory filled with the piercing ring of rising blood pressure. She was sensitive below the waist, her inner thighs now slick and the bedsheets beneath her damp. She felt completely and utterly undone; a ruined heap of fucked out limbs, hair now full of static from the pillowcase. Surely, she looked like someone teetering toward the final stage of six feet under.

But Sebastian had never been more attracted to her. He fumbled hastily with his necktie and shirt while Stella blinked at him, still flat on her back.

“You know, I might be able to help you undress a bit faster if you’d release me from these restraints,” she mused.

“Oh, right.” Sebastian fumbled for his wand. “Finite.”

The manacles vanished and Stella rubbed at her left wrist, which was red from the way she had strained against the metal. Not wanting Sebastian to worry, she moved for his belt buckle and began undressing him from the waist down as he unbuttoned his shirt.

Once fully undressed, he paused to kiss Stella, slow and tender until his erection throbbed. He rose to his feet and stood next to the bed, looming above Stella who watched him curiously. He tugged on her ankles, pulling her toward the edge of the bed until her legs dangled over the side.

“On your stomach,” he ordered.

Stella swallowed. “But Seb, you… are you… will you…”

“Just do it.” Something about the sight of Stella’s undoing ignited a new sense of confidence in Sebastian. He was certain he’d make her moan his name all night if he wanted.

Stella complied. Her spine straightened when Sebastian moved behind her. He bent forward to kiss the nape of her neck before the tip of his cock nudged her entrance from behind. She let out a low, slow moan as he sank inside her.

Sebastian swore at the tight heat compressing around his cock. He stilled for a moment, pulling backward slowly as Stella’s walls worked to accommodate him. But the sight of her backside bent over the edge of the bed proved impossible to maintain much restraint.

Sebastian’s hips snapped forward and Stella's cunt clenched around him as the skin rippled across her ass. He moved again and again, hips thrusting in determined rhythm as his cock sought a steady pace.

Skin slapped, floorboards creaked and the bedsheets muffled Stella’s whimpering moans. Sebastian grunted and groaned above her, his hands clenching her hips as he drove them into the mattress.

Stella was so slick, so stretchy for him, Sebastian searched for permission to accelerate his movements.

“You’re so good,” he groaned. “You take me so well.”

“More,” Stella moaned, the top bedsheet balled in her fists. It was exactly what Sebastian wanted to hear.

He pounded into her until her breathy moans became crying whimpers. Each thrust of his cock jolted her walls with a dizzying paradox of pressure and pleasure. Her spine curved more as if she was begging him to continue.

“Fuck, Seb,” Stella whined. Her submissive state spurred Sebastian on more, his flat hands pinning her in place against the bed as he rocked harder against her. The slapping sound of their union escalated to quick, short pops, peppered with Stella’s erratic whimpers.

The bed scraped against the planks of the wood floor, a grating screech that was interrupted by the increasing pitch of Stella’s moans. They climbed higher and louder as Sebastian’s cock edged her toward the peak. She clamped her walls in desperation to coax her climax from him, her flesh greedily straining around his cock.

“Come for me,” Sebastian commanded. “You’re going to come all over my cock and you’re going to say my name when you do it.”

Sebastian rammed and rutted against Stella, jamming his cock into her most sensitive spot until her moans could surely be heard in the common room below them.

“You’re close,” Sebastian noted, using one hand to ball Stella’s hair. He tugged at it, arching her back and emphasizing her ass. Sebastian squeezed it with his other hand, pumping harder until he was certain her hips would shatter from the force.

Finally, the sharp, short thrusts drove Sebastian’s cock into Stella’s trigger and she wailed a long, loud guttural cry of his name. Her walls fluttered and her core released more slick response as Sebastian’s hips continued to work until he could ensure her satisfaction was complete.

He couldn’t wait to do it again. But now, he was merely relieved he had managed to fuck her to completion before his own. And best of all, he’d get an endless supply of more opportunities to hear her praise him and beg for more, to watch her come undone for him, because she was his now.

“You’re so fucking good when you come,” Sebastian groaned, his cock coated in the new surge of slickness. While Stella’s frame slackened beneath him, spent from its trio of ardent releases, Sebastian sought his reward.

He sank several more times into the tight squeeze of her walls until the muscles of his abdomen flexed and his cock twitched, sending a jet of his release inside her. Stella moaned at the surge in warmth spilling within her walls as Sebastian grunted through the grand finale. He pinned Stella to the bed, his hips flush with her ass until it was over.

“Fucking hell,” he breathed as he caught himself with his arms above Stella, to keep from crushing her with his tired weight. He panted to catch his breath as Stella remained docile beneath him.

He knew he should back away, help her get dressed before someone else stumbled into the room. But all the moments from the previous hour – the revelations, the realizations, the reactions – settled within him with crushing force.

Stella, tired of staring at bed covers, rolled onto her back. She smiled up at him with tired eyes – tired, but gratified and unmistakably elated.

“Alright?” she asked.

Sebastian nodded, his eyes still in awe of her nude features. “I think so.”

Stella glowered at him. “You think so? Sebastian, I just let you turn me into a ragdoll, surely you don’t merely think so. Or else I’m going to be the one with performance anxiety.”

Sebastian grinned and finally stepped backward, only so that he could step around her legs to lay down next to her. He reached to pull her against himself, one arm draped around her waist as he used the other to prop himself up on an elbow.

“Didn’t see any anxiety just now, did you?” he noted.

“No, I suppose not,” Stella agreed.

“Aren’t you lucky?”

“Lucky?” Stella drawled. “If anything, you’re the lucky one. Lucky to have such a good coach.”

#sebastian sallow x oc #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy smut #whizzing fizzbee fanfic

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someiicecube · 11 months ago

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oh, I saw a post on here that reminded me my Touchstarved MC has the same birthday as Leander and that it's coming soon

#i have the perfect birthday art for those two #made even funnier by the fact he doesn't like/trust Leander all that much too #HES SO SHADY WOULD YOU EVEN BLAME HIM???/#nobody wondered but yes its Esther again but in Touchstarved this time #AHDHDGSADSADADHAHAHAHAHAHA #icespeaks #✦ mhin posting

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hellamorte · 10 months ago

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mamma mia here i go again with another chapter from my leander thesis 🤓 please accept my humble input on mc's curse, the importance of reading between leander's flirting lines and rss's wonderful storytelling details.

ngl when i finally chose not to touch leander's hand first (can you blame me, i'm weak for that man) i was bewildered at how strikingly different the options in this scene play out, and i, strange as it seems, like this one much better.

first of all, it's a parallel (even if it's not intended, the connection is still there) to the opening scene with a deranged traveler: the touch, the sensations, the (foreshadowed) strangling:

leander is definitely affected by the curse — possessed even, i would say, as if he was being told to strangle mc. notice how his actions line up with the traveler's, only in slo-mo, because leander was fighting to take back the control. and when mc calls out for him, he either snaps out of it or gets to the exact point when he takes a hold of the curse. this brings up a question: could mc's curse be sentient? alter the minds, you say? (more under the cut because it got long)

i've seen people speculating that mc's curse might bestow the enlightment but that's not true: mc was told that (and that's why this origin has me by the throat (pun absolutely intended): imagine living with so much guilt, thinking you were doing good, but in fact driving people mad… mmm tasty). it ties perfectly into every origin path where mc was being lied to, deceived and betrayed. however, there's definitely something more to the curse's nature that's yet to be disclosed.

my favourite moment though!! is this nuanced character storytelling!!

the very hand that was inches away from choking mc to death is quickly disguised as caring and soothing. wonder why? to gain mc's trust (non-verbally), to show that leander's in control, he's strong, he's there for mc, he'll take care of them. of course, leander, being a leander, downplays the whole experience of being possessed/affected by the curse, but he's being honest at once. he doesn't lie to mc — and that's also how he's gaining trust, verbally this time.

one more question that begs to be asked: why the hell all of this doesn't happen if mc touches leander first? it seems that the quality of the touch (😭) also plays an important role here:

leander must have felt the power of the curse, but he wasn't possessed by it, he could control it right away — why? because the touch was fleeting? or because it was mc who was touching him, not the other way round?

now hear me out (i might be wrong on this one, because i can't remember any more examples off the top of my head, but i feel like it's definitely a thing. let me know if something comes up!): we should pay closer attention to how leander says the truth (or half-truth), but it could be understood differently at a flirting angle (it's slightly different from this one, where he covers up his misstep). what i think he means here is that he controls the curse, but it sure is a difficult thing to do. "not due to your power" my ass, his need to look strong and heroic and weak at the same time is ridiculous, someone cure this man (ivolunteer.gif)

one more and last thing that's bothering me (it might play into the previous point btw): if you keep touching him, he tells mc that fissures on their hands match his golden pin. why??????? that's such a dumb thing to flirt about, such a weird comparison. what kind of connection is there? it's so out of place, it definitely means something more. leander spill

#touchstarved leander #ts leander #leander #touchstarved #touchstarved game #i've spent 6 hours on this instead of sleeping my love for this man...... is huge just like his huge naturals #anyway!! as always come to talk to me!! there are so many things we can speculate about!#also if you remember more examples bring them all onnnn #lmao i feel tainted with my love for leander just like the warden in my previous reblog #i need this game right now i cant overanalyze the scraps anymore #(i can but i love whining)#ts meta #touchstarved theory #ok im rambling i need to go to sleep already #**ts

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mysilaan · 11 months ago

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Hiii!! Can I request something from touchstarved pls?

What kind of kissers do you think each of our guys are? Which ones a HORRIBLE kisser, too much tongue, slobber slobber… which ones are absolute gods at kissing you just wanna worship the ground they walk on-

I had fun imagining this one 😎

SO, here’s my headcanon even tho I never kissed anyone myself LMAO 👩🏽‍🦯

TOUCHSTARVED HEADCANONS🍒

Who's a good kisser?

⭐

Kuras: In my mind he never kissed anyone but he has a natural gift for it. God did grant himself the ability to kisseth to the sir ☝️🤓 (I think he’s an adept of handkissing tho) Leander: The man fucked the whole city of Eridia, of course he developed some skills, but I imagine he almost only kiss with his tongue which is disgusting and tiring in the long run… (+ he likes to kiss your feet). With someone he loves it might be slightly different tho, he’d love kissing you on the forehead. Vere: I hate to admit it but that man is 100% a good kisser, he even has a certification and all. If I can go a little further, I imagine kisses with Vere really cold, but head spinning, like, he knows what he’s doing but there’s no emotion at all in it. If he has a love language, I don’t think it’s this one. Mhin: They don’t. They know how to smooch, but ask them to put the tongue and all, first: they find it disgusting; second: it’s a teeth knocking typa kiss. But they’re so precious, can you even blame them??? Ais: If Kuras is a S tier kisser, Ais is a god tier kisser (I’m completely unbiased, I swear). He doesn’t kiss just anyone and he puts his heart and soul into it. You receive one of his kisses, and it has the effect of a narcotic on you. For Ais, I think kissing your cheeks and/or neck is his way of showing affection.

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hogwartslegacyreactions2 · 1 year ago

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Hey, I'm pretty sure that this was asked before, but I can't find the post.

What if MC died in the repository instead of professor Fig?

(I'm sorry, but I'm in an angsty mood)

I love your posts, and thanks

A/N: I do have vague recollection of answering a similar prompt once upon a time, but nothing wrong with a reprisal!

HLC REACT TO MC DYING IN THE REPOSITORY

WARNING: angst, death, grief

Dark ancient magic flew violently through the air around MC. The whirlwind of human agony consumed them as they released silver blue light from their wand. The magic thrashed and roared as MC expelled more and more effort to contain the chaos. Cracks started to form along the length of their wand.

Time slowed for them. MC could see Fig's silhouette just beyond the veil. The hundreds of young souls above them weighed heavy on their conscience. If they can't do this, everyone will die. They had to use all of it.

MC closed their eyes and whispered their goodbye. A light even brighter than the one from their wand emerged from their chest. The ancient magic within them burst forth with the fury of dragonfire. The silver light merged with the darkness, and as quickly as it had appeared, the magic vanished.

MC was gone. Their broken wand was all that remained.

SEBASTIAN SALLOW: He has officially lost everything. After losing his uncle, Anne, Ominis, and MC all at once, he's cracking. They can't be gone. Not them. They were too powerful to just vanish. He just has to find them. Yes. That's what he needs to do. He leaves Hogwarts. He MUST find them. Then Anne will see. Then Ominis will know. What he did was worth it.

OMINIS GAUNT: He rarely speaks anymore. The silence in his life has become so oppressive it took his own voice. The good life he thought he had was nice while it lasted, but now it's all come apart. It's only a matter of time before he loses Anne too, and when that happens...he doesn't know what he's going to do with himself.

ANNE SALLOW: She doesn't know how to feel about MC's death. On the one hand, they were trying to be a good friend to her and her brother but on the other...they also enabled Sebastian in his treachery. She's so very tired of the pain. She just wants to go to sleep.

IMELDA REYES: Well, damn. Mc was the closest thing to a friend she had in years. Someone competitive but friendly and fun to have around. They could dish out as much sass as she could, and she respected them for it. She cries a little at the end of year feast.

NATSAI ONAI: She should have been there. She could've done something! Why didn't they tell her!? She would've had their back! She....she...she breaks down into sobs so intense, even her mother can't comfort her. Her best friend was dead. Her heart was shattered and it would never be whole again without MC.

GARRETH WEASLEY: What? No. Nonono. Not them. That's impossible. They couldn't be dead. They're too strong to be.... He's in denial all the way until the MC's memorial service at the end of year feast. Then he breaks down. A bit of his fire died with MC.

LEANDER PREWETT: He wasn't super close to them, but he was still quite fond of them. They were a real friend. He hopes they're at peace and raises a goblet in their honor.

AMIT THAKKAR: He feels cold and numb all at once when he hears the news that MC died in the attack. He'd grown to care about them. He cursed himself for not spending more time with them when they were around.

EVERETT CLOPTON: He and MC didn't talk much outside of flying class but he had liked them. It was a shame he didn't get to know them more. He doesn't feel like eating when the feast is presented.

POPPY SWEETING: She hadn't cried this much since she left her parents. She finally made a friend, and just like that, they were gone. She doesn't know if she could make another friend again if she wanted to. Was she just doomed to lose every human connection she made?

ELEAZAR FIG: He wholeheartedly and inconsolably blames himself. Even if this fate couldn't be avoided, why did they have to die so young? He can't stand to hear the words "ancient" and "magic" in the same sentence at the same time anymore. It sends him into a dissociative trauma spiral.

He finds MC's wand. It's snapped in the middle with bits of wood frayed outward like the very core of the wand exploded. The two pieces are held together by the slightest sliver of wood.

He retires from teaching at Hogwarts. He doesn't trust himself with the care of students anymore. He doesn't trust his own judgment. He's tortured every night by the survivor's guilt taunting him that he should have done more. He should have protected them. He shouldn't have let them go as far as they did. They weren't ready. They couldn't handle the power they were forced to control. It takes everything in him to not attempt to destroy the map room with the portraits of the Keepers. He just leaves.

But every once in a while... On quiet moonless nights.... When he sees MC's wand displayed with Miriam's, he hears a whisper. A quiet breathy whisper that he could swear on his life sounds like MC. He chalks it up to the fact that he could be going mad from grief, but it's still strikes him as strange... If he looked at the wand hard enough... He could swear he sees a blue glow...

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy reactions #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #anne sallow #imelda reyes #natsai onai #garreth weasley #leander prewett #amit thakkar #everett clopton #poppy sweeting #tw death #tw grief #angst

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marketfreshfics · 1 year ago

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Like Rabbits | Garreth x f!MC

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Did someone mention Weasley?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"My mistake."

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

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

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

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

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

The implications hit you like lightning.

Copious procreation.

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

---

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's better..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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