#sebastian requests

[saeyoungchoismaid]

hi it's not seb Saturday yet but I just wanted to throw this idea down. Sebastian chilling outside in the rain in his usual spot before seeing the farmer trudge out from the mines all bloodied and bruised ("I'm alright, really—") and it's like an immediate panic switch is flipped for sebastian because yoba above they look like a vampire's wet dream out here. They either patch farmer up at their house or at Sebastian's room lol (could be funny if the farmer ends up crashing on his bed/couch for the night, then leaves quite early but not without leaving seb a gift they got from the mines.... : ,) anyway that's it)

Awe my first Sebastian Saturday ask yay! Bro this request is so juicy HEHE. (Side note: sorry if this isn't that good or feels rushed. I haven't wrote anything in months but I'm honestly proud of myself for cranking 2k words out)

gif originally uploaded by @starwberrymark

Sebastian listens to the rock music that’s softly coming from the garage as he works. He lets out another low curse when more oil leaks out of his motorcycle and gets on him. He should be used to it. His clothes are covered in it anyway. He sighs and sets down his wrench, taking a seat on the ground by the front tire as he snatches up his rag and wipes his hands clean. Well, as best as he could. He then takes a swig from his water bottle, eyeing the clouds forming above him. Looks like a storm is blowing in. 

He keeps working for maybe another thirty minutes or so before he starts to feel the skies open up. The rain starts gentle, a few droplets starting to fall around him and onto his bike. “Welp…” he grumbles, grabbing his bike and starting to roll it back into the garage. Once secured, he shuts the radio off and closes the garage. 

He places his hands onto his hips, surveying the rain. A ghost of a smile starts to appear on his face as the rain starts to fall harder. He steps back out into it and begins to head towards the lake. He takes his pack of cigs out and smacks them against his hand, inhaling deeply. He’s always loved the smell of rain. 

Once at his usual spot, he takes a cigarette out and holds it up to his lips. He then slips his lighter out of his pocket and protects the end from the wind and rain to light it. Once the flame has caught the end of his cig, he inhales deeply, causing an orange hue to glow from the stick. 

He stands there for a while, just admiring how the water falls onto the lake or how the forest begins to smell when it’s wet. His eyes move towards the entrance of the mines when he thinks he sees movement. Through the rain, that’s starting to come down harder, he can’t really see much. He squints his eyes and moves his head around, trying to get a better look at what was going on. 

His eyes go wide when he sees you hobbling down the path. “(Y/n)!” he shouts in surprise, dropping his cig into a puddle and dashing over to you. Upon getting closer to you, he sees the bruises blooming on your skin and the cuts oozing blood. “Oh my god…” he mumbles, his heart breaking the longer he looks at you. 

“Hey, Sebastian,” you greet him as cheerily as you can muster, trying to slap a smile on your face. The pain makes it a little hard to do though. “Don’t worry about all this. I’m fine, really. Just got a bit scraped up in the mines. Those monsters are-”

“You’re not fine! You’re bleeding!” he shouts, gesturing to you. Before you can respond, he’s wrapping one of your arms around his shoulders for you to lean against him. “C’mon, I’ll help you to my house.” 

“Your house? But-”

“No but’s! You’re seriously hurt and Harvey’s clinic is already closed. You don’t seem too badly injured where we need to bother him, but I’m definitely not letting you go home without patching you up first,” Sebastian argues. You let out a sigh, realizing how serious he is about all of this. 

“Okay…fine…” you grunt out, not having the energy to fight him on it anymore. 

When you get to his place, no one seems to be home. At least, no one is in the front of the house. Sebastian leads you down the stairs and opens the door to his room. You’ve only been in his room a few times and never for long. Normally just when you have stuff for his commissions that he posts outside of Pierre’s store. He’s always very grateful, but he’s not much of a talker, so you just never end up staying around for too long. Besides, you have way too much shit going on in your day anyway. 

He sets you down onto the black couch that’s right by his door and you’re happy to be off of your feet. “I’ll go grab the first aid kit,” he says right before dashing up the stairs to go do that. You grunt and lean back against the couch, the cool air of the house making you shiver in your wet clothes. 

When he returns, he sees you shivering and bites his lip. “Here,” he says, setting down the first aid kit and going over to his dresser at the far end of the room. “Change into these,” he says, offering you a pair of pajamas. You shakily reach your hands out and take them, nodding your head as you stand up. 

You two stare at each other for a moment, unmoving. Sebastian’s eyes go wide as he realizes what you’re waiting for. “Oh! Sorry! Um, I’ll just, uh-” he stutters out as he turns around, completely red in the face. With his back to you, you slowly start stripping out of your clothes, a shy smile on your face. You do your best to avoid getting any blood or dirt on his clothes. Thankfully, the shirt and pants he gave you are both black. Maybe that’s why he gave you that specific pair. 

“Done,” you mumble before crashing back onto the dark cushions. He hesitates for a second before slowly turning around. 

He’s then back in front of you in a second, kneeling on the floor and moving your limbs around to survey your wounds. Once getting an eyeful of them all, he grabs the first aid kit and starts patching you up. You remain silent as he works, even when it hurts, you keep your lips sealed. 

After a while, a thought comes to you. “How are you so good at this?” you ask curiously. His eyes flicker up to yours before going back to your arm where he is currently rubbing in a cream on one of your darker bruises. 

“Let’s just say I…wasn’t exactly always the best-behaving kid,” he replies with a shrug, a smirk starting to form on his lips. 

“Oh?” you ask, looking down at him with your own smirk. Seeing your smirk, he huffs a laugh through his nose. 

“Nothing interesting, I assure you. I just…I’m not the biggest people person…” he says softly, moving onto a cut that he’s cleaned up to bandage it. 

“That’s okay,” you reassure, unsure of what else you could say in this moment. 

“Yeah, I guess. I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up, but I had Sammy, and later on Abigail. They introduced me to some more people, so I have more than enough friends to last me a lifetime now,” he replies with a light chuckle. You can’t help but smile at that. You’re happy to see that he’s, well, happy. 

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” you ask after a few moments of silence, hesitating in asking. After doing a few commissions for him and hanging out with him and the others at festivals, you two slowly started getting closer. You typically end up hanging out after a long day at work and you head over to Gus’ only to find that Sebastian and the others are playing pool. At first, you’d only watch, but after warming up to them, you started playing. 

The last time you played together, you two ended up staying until Gus closed the place down. You two were one of the few people left there, Sam and Abigail being long gone. Y’all ended up walking to the beach and sitting on the pier, sharing jokes and swapping stories. It was one of the best nights of your life. It’s definitely your favorite memory you’ve made since moving to Pelican Town. 

“Yeah…of course we are…” he replies softly, almost sounding hesitant and not looking into your eyes. 

“Good. I’m glad,” you say softly, giving him a sweet smile. He finally looks up at you and gives you a small smile in return. 

He’s then clearing his throat and standing up. “Well, I’m all done,” he says, wiping his hands onto his damp jeans. He glances at his clock and grunts. “It’s pretty late and sounds like it’s still raining. So, if you want to stay…you can…” He starts off confidently but ends on a quiet, unsure note. 

Heat rises to your face at that. “Oh, um, sure. Thank you…” you whisper, looking down at your hands. 

“Don’t mention it. You can, uh, take the bed, if you want. I’ll take the couch,” he offers. He then walks over to his closet and opens it up, revealing extra pillows and blankets at the top of the closet. 

“What? No, no! That’s okay! I’ll take the couch. I don’t want to inco-”

“I won’t take no for an answer,” he interrupts, pulling some blankets free from their tangled mess in his closet. You sigh and nod your head even though he’s not looking at you. 

“Alright, fine,” you say as you stand up, limping over to the bed. You sit there and watch him make the couch comfy for himself. 

As he moves around his room and goes to the bathroom to get ready for bed, you end up lying down at some point. You don’t remember falling asleep, but you do vaguely remember feeling something brush against your forehead and what sounded like someone wishing you a good night. 

When you wake up, you feel well-rested and ready to take on the day. You sit up and rub the leftover sleep from your eyes and then stretch. You wince when the bruises on your ribs ache, reminding you of what happened yesterday. You turn towards the time and find it’s six in the morning. Ah, guess old habits die hard. 

Hearing rustling and a deep sigh, you turn your attention now to the couch. Sebastian is still out cold, and probably will be for another four hours, at least. You smile and slip out of the bed, walking over to him. You smile at how peaceful he looks, his usual RBF nowhere to be seen. 

Not wanting to disturb him, you leave him be as you gather up your still-wet clothes. You’ll return his pjs to him later, after you’ve cleaned them and made sure they’re free of blood. Feeling something hard in your pocket, you slip your hand inside and remember what you found yesterday. Glancing at Sebastian, you gently set it down onto the table beside his couch that’s missing his radio. You then hobble over to his desk and search for paper and something to write with. Upon finding what you’re looking for, you scribble down a little note and leave it there next to your gift. You give him one last look before starting to limp up the stairs. Because it’s so early, no one else is up yet, so you slip out unnoticed thankfully. You’re not sure how you’d explain yourself to Robin. 

When Sebastian wakes up, the first thing he does is look over at his bed. He frowns when he finds you not there and he feels his heart sink a little. He sits up and runs his hands through his hair before scrubbing at his face. Upon dropping his hands, he notices two items resting before him. He practically has stars in his eyes as he picks the Obsidian up. He can’t believe what he’s seeing. 

Noticing the paper next to it, he picks that up next. As he reads your note, he starts to smile harder and harder. 

Dear Sebastian, 

Thank you for patching me up. Don’t think I ever actually properly thanked you last night. It means a lot to me that you’d go through all the trouble. I want you to have this. A little birdy once told me that you’ve always wanted to see Obsidian. I hope you can mark this off your bucket list now. If there’s anything else you want to see, I’m sure I can make it happen ;) Text me :) xxx-xxx-xxxx

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MASTERLISTS

More with Sebastian

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Tag List: @katelynwithpaint, @babykirbysstuff ✦ if you would like to be added or removed, comment or send an ask. Also, remember to tell me if you ever change your username so I can continue to tag you :)

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

[mooshs-crack-headcanons]

I think it's funny that when Cassandra gathers ppl to save the world you get the (mostly) het Inquisition. But when Varric gathers people it's always a wild pack of deranged fruits, AKA the DA2 crew minus Sebastian (the dlc straight) and the Veilguard minus Solas (status pending)

Idk what to put as a ending post image so here's Varric with his cleavage out

[kingboudica]

My best friend’s all time fav is Bucky & she asked me to draw her some fanart for Christmas

[godmadeaterribleerror]

All I've Wanted Was You

Main Masterlist - Bucky Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, smut (fingering, oral f!receiving, p in v sex), angst, light fluff, humor, no use of y/n, friends with benefits, love confessions

Summary: You have an arrangement with Bucky. You sleep together, and nothing more. Every time is supposed to be the last time. You love him too much keep this up and pretend it's not killing you.

But it might be killing him too.

Author's Note: Request from @wintersoldierchronicles! I had SO much fun with it, and it got (as expected) emotional. I am what I am. Enjoy!

Word Count: 5.7k

He’s giving you the look again. The one that he’s promised not to give you anymore, because it makes you both break promises, and shatters your heart into a million little, glowing pieces every time. 

And Bucky always picks up the pieces, after. He doesn’t know what he’s doing—or that he’s the one who broke you in the first place—but he’s good at cleaning up after himself. He makes his bed every morning. His guns and knives are always polished and well-cared for, and his plates are cleaned with his hands before he puts them in the dishwasher, because that’s how his ma raised him. He folds all his laundry, never has dust on his floor, and never wears boxer two days in a row. All his trash finds it’s way into the can, and then the bag gets taken out over his shoulder because no matter how many times Tony tells him he has robots and people to do that instead, Bucky insists on doing it himself. 

It’s one of the reasons you love him. 

And that’s exactly why he can’t give you that look. He promised he’d stop it. You’d promised you’d stop indulging it.

But if Bucky’s good at cleaning up, you’re good at making messes. There’s always a little wrapper empty can on your desk—Bucky always throws it out for you—and you tend to wait until you can smell it to change your sheets. You’ve been wearing the same bra for two weeks, and you have one pair of heeled boots where the sole is coming apart, but they still work, so you’re still using them. You had to throw out your last laptop, because five coffee spills were apparently too much for it to handle. People don’t hand you weapons anymore, after Nat gave you a dart gun for safety and you ended up shooting yourself in the thigh. Tony has an extra robot for your apartment.

But Bucky cleans it anyway, whenever he gives you the look, and finds his way back into your bed.

“Don’t know how it’s this bad every time,” he’d muttered a few weeks back, folding your towels with a small frown.

He didn’t need to do that. You wish he wouldn’t. It’s domestic, and it makes this—you and Bucky, though there isn’t really a you and Bucky—feel far too real.

You’d shrugged, watching him move around from the bed. “I spend every day cleaning up your messes, Barnes. That’s where all the energy for this,” You’d mad a sweeping gesture around the room. “Goes.”

“Hey.” Bucky had given you a mockingly stern look and pointed finger. “I haven’t done anything, for like a month.”

“Steve hasn’t done anything in three years.”

“Yeah, but the last thing he did was become a war criminal, doll. That had you on overtime.”

“And who did he become a war criminal for?”

Bucky had rolled his eyes. “Shut up. And the last thing I did wasn’t even that bad.”

“You punched the governor.”

“He called you a whore.” Bucky had glared down at your trash. “I woulda done worse, if I didn’t know it would come back to bite your ass.”

You’d sighed. “Bucky-“

“And I never mean to make mess for you.” He’d muttered, giving you an almost puppy-like look, and you’d wanted to vault off the bed so you could wrap yourself around him and never let go. “Just happens. If I was in charge, we’d all be on perfect fuckin’ behavior, all the time.”

“Well, thank you.” You’d given him a soft, gentle smile, and he’d relaxed slightly. “And I’m not mad about it, Bucky. It’s my job. And I’m good at it.”

“You are.” He’d said under his breath, his tongue flicking out between his lips, and his words had sounded like they were mostly for himself. “Use a lot of pretty words, when you do it. Could make a man jump off a cliff just by asking him to believe the wind would catch him.”

You’d blinked at him, having no fucking idea what that meant, but Bucky just continued, his voice raising back up.

“But I make it harder-“

“No, you don’t. It’s not your fault people are dumb and don’t understand how brainwashing works.” You’d given him a pointed look. “And nothing you do could be worse than the Nat Burrito-Stripper-Arson incident. And she never cleans up my room for me.”

Bucky’s lip had twitched. You’d counted it as a victory. “I’m gonna do your laundry too.”

“What a gentleman.”

“Only for you, doll.” He’d shrugged, and gone back to his self-inflicted mission.

That was one of the ways he picks up the pieces. Even if he doesn’t love you, Bucky really does care about you. So much. It’s one of the reasons this can’t happen. You don’t know what you’ll do if you lose him forever. 

But the look is getting more pleading. Shining blue eyes on yours, raised brows that have a question and a promise, something dangerously close to hope all over his handsome features. 

You don’t know how to say no to him. You’ve been trying to get better at it, but you also love him, and want him always. So you’re not quite there yet. 

When you smile at him, the recognition flashes over Bucky as his jaw clenches, he blinks once—which, for Bucky, is basically jumping with joy—and turns back to his conversation with Steve and Sam. 

You both have to get through the rest of the night. One of Tony’s dumb little cocktail parties that’s mandatory, for a united front, and neither of you will be able to escape. You’d tried once, and that’s the only time you’d almost gotten caught. Steve had gone looking for Bucky because it was Steve, and Tony had gone looking for you because apparently the head of PR needed to be easily accessible.

You and Bucky had made promises that time, too.

“That was…” He’d looked at you over the kitchen counter that morning, his words slow and measured. “Close. Last night.”

You’d hummed, staring down at the coffee in your mug. It had long gone cold. You’d been clinging to it and pretending to drink it for an hour, because it gave you a good excuse to wait for Bucky. But it was bitter. And a little shitty, because Tony had been fucking with the machine again. 

“We shouldn’t do that again.” Bucky had muttered, and you’d only nodded. “I don’t want to get caught, and then have Steve and Stark down our necks-“

“I know.” You’d whispered, forcing your gaze onto his. And that was a different look, in his eyes. Further away. Untouchable.

Reminding you that, at the end of the day, Bucky’s not yours to touch or have or wait for. Just like you don’t have a good enough reason to be his.

“That was the last time.” You’d said it like it didn’t rip you in half, and Bucky had nodded.

“Alright. Good.” He hadn’t walked away. You’d wish he would. 

You could’ve fallen apart again in peace, if he had.

“Are we still good for the whole aquarium thing tomorrow?” He’d asked, and you’d shrugged.

“It’s a team event. I organized it. You have to be there.”

“Yeah, but, uh-“ Bucky had cleared his throat, his tongue flicking out between his lips, his gaze dropping to the kitchen counter. “I was kind of plannin’ on just following you around.”

God. He kept saying things like that. All the fucking time, and it was a little cruel, but you know he didn’t mean it be. He had—has—no idea that you dream about him and feel colder when he’s not there and look for him in every room, even when you know he’s not going to be there. Just in case, you always look.

He’d muttered your name, and you’d just given him a small smile.

“As long as we look at the jellyfish.”

Bucky had nodded slowly. “Jellyfish. Got it.” Then he’d smiled. A wide, toothy, real smile that so few people got to see. You don’t know how you earned Bucky’s smile-list. 

You know you’re never going to risk your spot on it. So you’d smiled back, and said nothing else because the words might transform into I love you.

After he’d left the kitchen, you’d dumped the coffee down the sink, and sworn to yourself that that, the close call, was really the last time.

It’s been six more last times since then. There had been the last time at the aquarium, and the last time after a meeting, three last times on random days where nothing had happened, but you’d caved anyway, and the last time when he’d shown up at your door after a mission, and you’d taken him in without a question.

And now it’s seven last times.

But this one, this one for certain, will be the real last time. To save yourself, this has to be the real last time. 

So you might as well make it count. 

You drift through the rest of the party, smiling at the people Tony tells you to smile at, shaking hands and making soft-edged jokes about your job, keeping Bucky in your periphery because you can’t fucking help yourself. You tell yourself it’s to see when he gives the signal, but in reality, it’s because you need to see him. Need to torture yourself every time a pretty woman glides over to his side and touches his arm—never the metal one, they never touch the metal arm and it makes you hate them—because maybe he’ll change his mind and want her instead. 

It would be a mercy, in a way. Take away the torment of knowing you’re going to have him, then need to leave before morning.

You always leave before morning. The only time you’re allowed to linger is when you’ve fucked in the daylight, and you start talking like nothing’s happened at all. It breaks you a little more every time.

But you still go. You love him, and you don’t have the strength of all the gods and heroes around you, so you always go.

The night starts to die down. Couples drift off with their hands tangled together, or they drop onto the couch and give each other little smiles—the kind that tells you that, to them, they’re the only two people into the world—and you stand in the corner, alone. 

Bucky gives you the signal, as he moves to the door. Two hands casually behind his back one gloved palm splayed open.

Five minutes, before you can follow him.

They’re the longest five minutes of your life. You chew on the ice at the bottom of your glass until your fingers are sort of numb, but you don’t really care.

Bucky will warm them up.

It’s hard not to run to his room, when you know he’s waiting. For you. 

Bucky’s waiting for you.

You’ve barely even knocked on the door when it swings open, and Bucky pulls you inside.

There’s no foreplay. There’s never foreplay, because that would imply something intimate and sacred. 

But this is sacred. Only to you, but all the same. Every single second Bucky offers you is holy. To him it’s just hunger. A god starved, asking you to leave him an offering while you’re still in his favor.

That’s what this is supposed to be. You’re supposed to kiss with teeth for a minute, then you’ll fall to your knees to please him. He’ll take a fist full of your hair and guide you up and down his cock, fucking your mouth until you’re choking on him and moaning, before he pulls almost all the way out, and cums.

He never settles for only cumming in your mouth or on your tits. He has a habit of angling himself perfectly so that you swallow half of it, and the rest spreads everywhere. Then he’s supposed to drag up into another violent kiss, and fuck you however he wants.

But that’s not what’s happening.

This kiss is longer. Deeper. Bucky’s mouth almost fully overtakes yours, his tongue pressing on you lower lip until you open for him, and then he’s running it over your teeth and down your throat, like he’s trying to plant himself into you. His hands are handling you softly. Holding you at the curve of your back and pressing your body right into his, until all you can sense is Bucky. All you can hear are his slow grunts rolling through you—born from only kissing you—and all you can taste is the whiskey on his breath, that he probably only drank because Nat handed it to him, and he’s scared of her. And you can smell his cologne, and when your eyes flutter open for half a second you can watch his nose bump yours, and feel-

You can feel Bucky everywhere. The hand that’s not holding you is starting to trail over your thighs, closer to where you’re aching for him, and-

This isn’t right. You’re supposed to get on your knees, and then earn him fingering you back. And you try to pull away and sink down, but Bucky just tugs you right back up, and slams his lips back over yours.

“Bucky,” you gasp, pushing a little on his chest because this isn’t supposed to be about you. “Wait-“

He stops immediately, his furrowing in concern. “Are you o-“

“I’m okay.” You mumble, playing with the fabric of his shirt. “You didn’t do anything, Buck, I just- I’m-“ Supposed to isn’t right. That makes it sound like he makes you, and he doesn’t. “What about you?”

Bucky frowns, his hand still resting on your thigh. “What about me?”

“You’re- You know.” You flush, keeping your gaze firmly fixed on your hands as your voice drops to a whisper. “Blowjob.”

He relaxes against you immediately, and you don’t get it. You’ve done something wrong. You’re supposed to be serving him.

And you definitely don’t get his low chuckle, or why his expression is so soft when he tugs your hair back, forcing your gaze onto his.

“We can skip the blowjob tonight, babygirl.”

That’s not fair. He can’t babygirl you right now. “But-“

“Look, I-“ He sighs, shaking his head at something you don’t understand. “I know you wanna, and I don’t not want it, you’re- Jesus, you’re so fucking good at that, but tonight, lemme take care of you. Please.”

That’s not what this is about. And he said tonight like there will be more nights, and there will be, but you’re not supposed to acknowledge that. 

But he said please.  

And he pulled out the babygirl.

You nod, the movement smaller than you want it to be, and Bucky grins.

“Good. Alright- Yeah.” He presses another perfect, too-soft kiss to your lips. “Tell me what you want.”

Whatever he wants. As long as Bucky’s offering it, you want it.

You don’t think he’ll care for that answer. 

“I- I dunno-“

“Yeah, you do.” He’s kissing a line down your throat as he speaks. That’s not fair either, because it makes your head fuzzy, and you forget how to lie. “C’mon, doll. Tell me what you want.”

“You.” 

Your answer slips out without thought, and you’re lucky. Bucky doesn’t read into it. He just groans, and you feel his bulge twitch slightly against you. 

His hand slides up to cup your pussy, right over your underwear, and you moan lewdly into his ear.

“So fucking wet already.” He mutters against your neck, and you nod a little stupidly in agreement. “C’mon. Be creative. Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

He slaps your cunt once, and your nails dig into his shoulders as you try to stay upright. “Bucky-“

“You can do it, babygirl. Anythin’ you want, just tell me and I’ll get it for you.” Bucky starts to rub his palm back and forth, and you might fly out of your skin. “Use all those pretty words you’ve got, tell me.”

That’s his Sargent voice. 

You don’t know how to disobey his Sargent voice.

“I want you to touch me.” You whisper, and Bucky’s eyes shoot back up to yours. “With the metal arm. Until I can’t fucking stand. Then toss me around. And catch me. And taste me, fuck-“ You’re turning yourself on, and Bucky’s blown-out, lustful gaze isn’t helping. “I want you to taste me, Bucky, you- you do this fucking thing with your tongue all the time and I love it and I want it on me and shit-“

Bucky mutters your name in a low warning, but you’re on a roll, and you don’t know how to stop.

“I was to cum on your face, because sometimes it- Fuck, it gets caught in your beard and that’s so hot, and then I was you to fuck me stupid and hard and rough, and keep touching me, don’t stop touching me, Bucky, please. I want to feel it, baby, I need to feel you tomorrow, please.”

You take a long, heavy breath, and maybe you pushed it too far. He’s just staring at you. What if he’d expected you to say something gentle, and you said that. What if that was a test, and you failed it. And Bucky wouldn’t test you like that, but he’s still staring at you, and it’s a hungry, borderline animalistic stare, but he’s not moving or speaking or-

“Tell me if it’s too much.” He mutters, and it’s almost a growl. “I need you to promise me you’ll tell me if it’s too much.”

You nod, trying not to show your eager desperation on your face. “I promise. Please, Bucky. Please.”

His throat bobs, his metal fingers slowly hooking around your panties. “Hold on.”

Your arms wrap around Bucky’s neck right as his fingers shove into your cunt, and he hadn’t lied.

He’s giving you exactly what you asked for.

Not a single part of your instructions gets neglected or ignore. Bucky seems to have given himself a mission to follow them, and he already knows what you like, and this might kill you.

He starts with the touching. Your underwear is ripped off with your entire dress, and tossed into a far, unimportant corner of the room. A metal finger pushes right into your cunt, pumping in and out, faster and faster until you’re moaning. His palm still rubbing right against your clit, his fingers never slowing, and you can feel it, already you can feel the pleasure in your core-

“Want more, doll?” 

You moan at Bucky’s voice, right in your ear, and grind down onto his hand. 

His chuckle is dark, and you know he understands. “Yes, ma’am.”

Two fingers. You’re so fucking full and it’s only two fingers, but he’s moving so fast and your knees feel weak, your nails scratching and clawing at Bucky’s neck to remain on your feet-

“Let go,” Bucky mutters your name in your ear, and you’re a little worried he can read your mind. “I’ve got you.”

He’s got you. Bucky’s got you.

Your orgasm hits you with a heady warmth that spreads everywhere, over your nerves and into your mouth as a you moan, right to your fingers as you cling to Bucky, and your legs give out. 

He catches you. He’s got you, and his touch is so gentle as he continues to roll your clit between his thumb and forefinger, pushing you right back up to the edge.

“Bucky,” you whine, shivering slightly as he kisses over your collarbone. “I- I’m gonna cum again-“

“Hold it.” He mutters, and you squeak as he fucking pinches your clit. “You’re cumming on my face next, babygirl, and you need to be ready-“

“I am ready-“

“Nah.” He draws back up, giving you a grin that can only be described as wicked. “Not for what I’m plannin’ with you.”

Your eyes widen, but Bucky’s already moving on. 

Tossing you down onto the bed, barely giving you a second to settle before he’s prowling over you, shoving your thighs apart and looking at your dripping pussy with something impossibly close to awe.

“So fucking wet for me, doll.” He mutters, shaking his head. “I can’t- You’re a damn angel, letting me taste you-“

“Bucky,” you whine again. It’s dangerous, how easy he does this to you. “Please-“

His grip on your thighs tightens, as you start to grind up into the air. “Need you to stay still. Can you be good for me and stay still?”

Oh, God. “Yes,” you whisper, and his grin is dangerous. 

“Yes, what?”

You hate it when he does that. There’s nothing in the world that’s going to stop you from giving him what he wants, and he fucking knows it, too. 

Asshole. Handsome, perfect, stupid James Barnes is an asshole, and you’re going to give him exactly what he wants. 

“Yes, sir.”

“There you go.” Bucky hums, running two fingers between the puffy lips of your cunt. “Good girl.”

He dives down before you can think of something smart to say. Then thinking flies out the window all together, because he’s going to make you fly out of your skin and fucking ascend. 

He’s doing the tongue thing. Bucky’s doing the tongue thing, right against you, over and over as he eats you out like it’s the end of the fucking world if he doesn’t. Working you into a frenzy on your clit before dropping to your cunt and tongue-fucking you until you’re humping his face. He’s not trying to restrain your movements. Given how he’s groaning, and his hips are jerking against the bed, he’s liking how your thighs are squeezing his head and you’re writhing below him.

And you’re so close. So fast, you’re right back on the edge, and the heat building is a little different, and fuck, he’s so fucking good at this, why is he so fucking good at this-

You make a high sound that’s supposed to be a warning, but just comes out a raw sound of need.

Bucky understands. 

And he doubles down. 

A new coil in your stomach snaps, when Bucky’s tongue presses flat on your clit, rolling it, and this orgasm is hot and wet. You’ve never been this wet in your fucking life, and never been the wet from before until you met Bucky, but this is different. This like a flood between your legs, and your back is arching off the bed as Bucky keeps his face pressed right against your sex, and you feel a little molten and gooey as it fades, and you’re not sure what just happened, but it felt good.

“You squirted.” Bucky’s voice is low as he rises back up, and he has to be reading your mind. “Shit, I fucking knew it- You’re always so wet, and- That was beautiful, babygirl, tasted to fucking good, wait-“

His lips crash right over yours, and you moan a little stupidly as you taste yourself on his tongue. You’re already limp on the bed, and it feels like heaven, but Bucky notices and draws away.

“You sure you want more?” His question is genuine. And if you tell him to stop there, he will.

But you can see your release, glinting on his dark stubble.

You’re this far gone anyway.

“More.” You whisper, and Bucky’s eyes flash. “Please, Bucky. Need more. I can take it, please-“

It’s a good thing he kisses you when he does. You were embarrassingly close to crying.

It’s another long, slow, fucking passionate kiss. You’re pretty sure this night is a dream. You don’t want to wake up.

“Still got you, babygirl.” He murmurs against your lips. “Gonna take good care of you. You still want it, uh, rough?”

You nod, your head already clear of all thoughts but Bucky, and he lets out a long breath, pressing one last kiss to the space between your eyes as he draws back up. 

You don’t know why, but you thought he’d flip you over. Maybe spank you a little before spreading your ass cheeks open and fucking you like an animal from behind.

He doesn’t move from about you. Bucky strokes himself a few times—his own clothing long joined yours in rags on the floor—lining up at your entrance with a deep breath.

You’re getting one last chance to push him away. 

You don’t want it.

And when he sees that, something in Bucky seems to snap. You ask for rough. He promised it.

Rough is what you get.

Bucky slams into you with one movement, not bothering to give you time to adjust before he’s fucking you at a brutal pace, his cock driving deep enough to hit your cervix and press right against your g-spot, setting you on fucking fire. He’s holding himself over you with the metal arm, his gaze locked on yours as he watches himself cleave you open, and you have to close your eyes, or you’ll lose your mind. There’s something too deep in his gaze, and it’s going to drive you insane. Being filled up and fucked until you’re drooling, all while Bucky groan pure filth above you, is more than enough.

“Taking my cock so fucking well, you were made for me, doll, made to be fucked so good- Look at me.” Bucky growls, grabbing your jaw, and there’s no more hiding. Bucky’s eyes are dark and hungry on yours, and you can feel him everywhere as he splits you open. “Open.”

It takes one squeeze of your jaw for you to understand, but then you’re obeying without thought. 

“Let me hear you.” Bucky groans, his dick slamming right into that deep part of you. “C’mon, make all your pretty fuckin’ sounds for me babydoll-“

You let out a high, loud whine, and Bucky grins, the bed squeaking as his pace picks up. 

“Good girl.”

You were already sensitive from his mouth and fingers. And that’s enough. You fly back over the edge with a weak sound, your pussy squeezing and fluttering around Bucky’s cock, and somewhere far in the distance you can hear him roar your name as he slams home. 

It sends another, smaller aftershock orgasm through you again. It’s going to hurt to sit tomorrow. 

Good.

Bucky has the same habit when he cums in your pussy that he does with your mouth. Pulling just far enough out that he’s still pumping you full of him, all while allowing the rest of it to dribble down your thighs and onto your ass. The only difference is that with this, he’ll roll his cock right back into you, letting out a long groan as his brow drops to your shoulder.

You don’t know how long you both lay there. Bucky’s cock still filling you up, everything about him everywhere around you, your head lost in a daze of Bucky. So fucking good, and warm, and—in this stolen moment—yours.

Bucky takes a long, ragged breath, and slowly pulls out, leaving you a little aching and empty.

“Stay here, baby.” He mutters, and you hum. You’ll have to go soon. 

For now, you’re indulging yourself. 

Bucky’s cleaning up after himself, just like he always does. A warm, wet washcloth between your legs, and a kiss to your inner thigh that’s far too gentle. A little water and chocolate that he sits you up to eat, holding it out and glaring until you take it.

You sigh. “Bucky-“

“You need it.” He grunts. “You know you need it.”

He wasn’t wrong. You’re still a little lightheaded, and he’s left bruises on your hips that you love, and you know Bucky hates. He thinks they’re hurting you. It doesn’t matter that you asked him for it, he’s still going to hate them. 

He doesn’t know you fucking cry, like some pathetic, lovesick idiot, whenever they fade. To you, they’re proof he touched you. 

But you still take the water and food. Bucky wants you to, and you’ll do anything for him.

You’ll even participate in the dance where he crawls back into bed, pulls you into his body with his arms around your stomach, and presses a kiss to your shoulder. The game you both play where you pretend this is really the last time, and that you’re not going to be gone the moment Bucky’s asleep. It’s an odd game. He’s holding you because he’s pretending he’ll care if you go. You’re letting him because you want him to make you stay. You leave because you have to, if you want to survive. Bucky doesn’t stop you, because right now—if you ask either of you—that was the last time.

It won’t be. You always say it is, and you both know you’re far from the last time, but you also know that one day, there will be a last time. And it will break you, and Bucky won’t clean you up, and then you’ll just have to… Keep going.

And this is the worst part.

Bucky’s breathing is even behind you, and his body is relaxed. He’s done his part, and fallen asleep. Now you have to do yours, and leave. This was the last time—and even as you think it, you know it’s not the truth, but you have to pretend it is—and now you have to leave.

You start by trying to squirm away from him, but Bucky’s muscles flex, and suddenly you’re pinned tighter to his chest. Then you try to roll, and his legs tangle into yours. Prying arms away just makes him drag you closer. Trying to scramble quickly ends with him half on top of you.

This isn’t how the dance is supposed to go. 

You’re supposed to just leave. Without a fight, or resistance. Bucky’s supposed to stay asleep as you gather your clothing and slip out the door. He’s supposed to bunch all the blankets in his arm to replace where you’d been, and breathe out a little sigh of your name that makes you cry in the shower a few hours later.

He’s not supposed to be looking at you, when you roll over in his arms. 

“What are you doing?” You whisper.

“Tried to fuck you good enough you couldn’t walk away.” He mutters, watching you so fucking carefully. Like he’s afraid you’ll turn into nothing but air if he says the wrong thing. “Guess I shoulda known better.”

“Bucky-“

“You never stay.” He scans over your face, something painful in his eyes you don’t want to stare at for too long, or you’ll start crying. “Nothin’ I do is ever enough to make you stop leaving.”

“I leave because you never ask me to stay.” You whisper, and Bucky sighs.

“I never ask you to stay cause I think you want to leave.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You’re staring at each other, and being the first one to move—away or deeper into Bucky—is the most terrifying thought in the world. You could leave, and this will be the last time. And you’ll lose him. You’ll stay, and he’ll want you now but not later, and you’ll lose him. You’re going to lose him, because there’s no world where something this good just happens, and you want to stay but the most important thing about this has been never losing Bucky-

“If I ask you to stay,” Bucky mutters, tracing metal fingers carefully over your cheekbone. “What would you say? And before you answer,” he adds in a rushed tone. “I want to tell you something.”

You frown at him, your confusion obviously written all over your face, and Bucky sighs. 

“I’m not telling you because I’m tryin’ to make you stay. If you wanna go, you’re free. Won’t drag you back, no matter how much I want to.”

“Bucky,” you whisper, and you’re lying down, but you’re still a little dizzy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about-“

“I love you.” His words are soft, but firm. Certain. And the world might have stopped moving. “I don’t know a lot, you know I don’t, but I know I love you. I’d do anythin’ for you, and that includes letting you go. If that’s what you want.”

“Bu-“

“Wait,” he shakes his head, holding your gaze. “I do want you to stay. If that’s what you’ve been waiting for, if that’s all I’ve had to do, then I love you,” he says your name, and the world must have stopped. This can only have happened because the world stopped, and everything dies, and now you’re in heaven. 

But Bucky’s warm and strong around you. And he feels real. Looks real. Tastes real, still lingering on your tongue.

You swallow. You have to speak slowly, or this might all slip through your fingers. “Are asking me to stay?”

“Think so.” He gives you a small, slightly nervous grin. “And let me love you. Be my girl. You know, if you’ll have me-“

“Of course I’ll have you.” The words fall out of you like you’re a waterfall, spilling into the river, but that’s just how this is. There’s gravity, so of course the water goes down. You love Bucky, so there’s no world where you don’t have him. 

Bucky raises his brows. “Of course?”

You nod, trying to ride the wave of frantic confidence, not allowing yourself to look anywhere but Bucky. “Yeah. I- I love you too.”

It’s good to say. You’ve spent so long choking on it, and now it’s free, and you can breathe so easily. You’d forgotten what it was like, to not be strangling yourself with your own secret. It’s like having a fruit after years of only eating ash.

But Bucky’s just staring at you with wide, deep, blue eyes, his lips parted and fingers still so carefully on your cheek.

He looks a little like an angel.

“You sure?” His voice is hoarse, but there’s something soft under it, and it’s the same thing you can feel in your heart.

Fear. Of losing something you’ve barely even had. 

But you want it. And Bucky wants you. 

So there’s nowhere else to go. All you have to do is stay here.

“Yeah,” you give him a small smile, and his grin splits his face. “I’m sure.”

You’ll talk later. For now Bucky just pulls you further into his body, and kisses the top of your head. In a way, that was the last time. And the first. 

Because you stay.

All through the night, and a long, long, long while after, you stay.

End Note: how many times do I have to write something like this before it happens to me?

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[cooliofango]

SEBASTIAN SOLACE FLUFF you walk into his shop looking like death, at first he acts snarky as usual, but he feels bad. you were never flashing him with flash beacons or pissing him off. he gives you a med kit for free, and lets you stay to rest. he lets you sleep cradled against his tail, and doesnt want to admit it but he enjoys it.

Not So Expendable

Pairing: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Synopsis: Reader has had a bad run and needs to catch a break.

A/N: NERVOUS!!! 😂 I want this to be a good start to the Pressure fandom so I hope I did well! Thank you for requesting to help me get started! (And so quickly too!) I hope I’ve portrayed Sebastian well! If anyone who reads this has any positive constructive criticism feel free to share!

TW: Mention of injury, slightly graphic but nothing incredibly gory!

The familiar sound of someone pulling themselves through the vents pulled Sebastian’s attention towards it, the soft light blue glow of his three eyes settling on the rather ragged figure of the expendable making their runs for today. They breathed heavily through parted lips, a bloodied hand returning to their side to return to applying pressure to the deep red soaked material of their suit-- the right side, he noted.

“Oh my!” A baiting tone left his lips, sharp, pearly white teeth visible as he smirked down at them. “Aren’t you a sight to see?” A deep chuckle filled the air that quickly began to fill with the thick smell of iron. He’s seen wounds similar to the ones this expendable had on numerous occasions. This early in the run, they usually stem from a very specific monster here in the Hadal Blacksite. “I thought you would be smart enough to avoid such simple trickery. They’re only Good People, after all.” The emphasis on the monster’s name was spoken condescendingly, humming in amusement at his own play of words.

There was no response from the expendable. Their hand only pressed more firmly on their wound, limping towards him without so much as a glance in his direction. They only seemed focused on the items draped along the length of his tail. Sebastian frowned in slight annoyance, an emotion that showed vibrantly in his tone, “Fine, fine! Straight to business are we? And here I thought we had something special.”

That line was said tauntingly, though his frown softened. The expendable before him was definitely different from the others he has come across- special is quite the stretch, though, no? The first time you came with a group was a memory that stood out to him in that moment of reminiscence. A large and rowdy group of eight came in to purchase what they wished, with a rather infuriating kid thinking it was a good idea to use the flash beacon right there in the room with him. The sudden bright light stung his eyes harshly. He was about to lash out at the kid, a hand raised to rub the stinging sensation away. But a certain expendable’s voice beat him to it.

“Come on! Is that really necessary? You’re wasting the uses on it anyways!”

While it wasn’t necessarily a direct defense for him, there have been many other occasions where you would put your little group in line whenever you went out as a team. Likewise, you would remain courteous when interacting with him when you would make runs alone as well- no matter how much he would try to tease and annoy you.

A slight tug against his tail brought him back to reality, watching as your face went from relief as you placed a hand on the medkit settled dead center of all of the wares he had up for offer, to a heavy sense of worry as your hand moved to grab the price tag set above it. “Something not to your liking?” Though his tone still held a bit of mockery, it waned into something a little softer.

The expendable quickly shrugged off their bag, struggling for a moment to pull the zipper open with their free hand before digging through its contents frantically. Their face grew paler as an empty flashlight and old keycards toppled out the sides of the open bag. A few files were tossed onto the ground, as well as a couple of DNA samples- but they weren’t even half of what the medkit cost.

Sebastian cringed at the sight, an unpleasant feeling bubbling in the pit of his stomach. Sympathy? His jaw locked in place at the thought. No way. Sympathy for an expendable who will only be sent back once again when they’re on the brink of death, only to be healed to be good as new for the sole purpose of doing all again until the people of UrbanShade were satisfied? Absolutely not, was what he decided. It was nothing more than a slightly sick sense of pity.

The expendable in question dropped onto the ground, seemingly too weak to keep themselves up anymore. Their chest rose and fell with each heavy and shaken breath they took, leaning against an empty spot on his tail.

God, they looked pathetic..

Sebastian scoffed irritably, that same awful feeling that started within the pit of his stomach now crawling up his spine. They looked pathetic. He ripped the medkit off of its hook, tossing it in the expendable’s direction. It clattered loudly when the plastic box made contact with the stone floors, only stopping when it had hit the expendable’s leg and bounced off of it, landing it a few inches away from them.

Tired eyes moved quickly to the box and then to him, leaving only a second to wonder before it was hastily scooped up into their hands. Their hands shook from how weak their body was, and their hands slipped from how bloodied they were- but they managed to open it with an audible pop. The gauze wrap was in their hands in mere minutes, struggling to unzip the scuba suit they wore in order to make their most life threatening wound more accessible.

It was then that Sebastian was able to get a clearer view of the wound you so desperately were trying to keep from draining the expendable completely of their energy. He’s unable to tell if the wound was as deep as it looked, or if the wound was just large, causing the blood loss to make it appear deeper than it really was. It was definitely way worse than the smaller cuts littering their arms- most of which have already healed on their own- as well as the large bruise on the left side of their jaw.

Relief caused Sebastian’s shoulders to relax momentarily, his shoulders dropping with each second he watched the expendable patch themselves up to the best of their abilities. He scoffed at himself upon realization. He shouldn’t be feeling that way towards an expendable. He shouldn’t have helped them to begin with! He keeps telling himself this. And yet, here the both of you are.

The gentle pressure against his tail pulled him from his thoughts once more. The expendable rested against his tail again, eyes fallen shut and breathing more evened out than before. They looked far more relaxed than they were mere moments ago. They appeared almost too relaxed.

“Hey, now! Who said you could get some shut eye?” He initially began to tease, moving his tail to start wrapping around the expendable’s body with the intent on lifting them up to wake them. But he stops himself. His tail is wrapped completely around them, but it hadn’t tightened enough to safely lift them up without the risk of dropping them. The relaxed state, in comparison to moments earlier, eased his nerves. Much to his own dismay. A feeling of defeat washed over him, sighing to himself in slight annoyance as he crossed two of his three arms across his chest.

“Very well..” His voice was soft as to not awaken them, watching over them carefully as the room rumbled with the passing of an Angler just outside the room.

[bambiideer]

[whizzing-fizzbee]

Okie I sent you a request earlier today about a possible fic around MC ‘coaching’ Seb (lol). But I thought of another one. Same vibe between the two (besties that just wanna love and fuck each other) and same setting, just them two, maybe they’re a little tipsy or more open for some reason. in conversation she reveals that she’s convinced she can’t cum. No other guy has ever managed and neither has she. She enjoys sex but just doesn’t think THAT will ever happen. And Seb just blurts out that he bet he could. Smug bastard. It becomes a whole thing, she’s like you’re insane, but is convinced… and he does.

Also shared with Applin by the way. You two are just amazing!

Oh hey there. 😏 Buckle up because we've got another multi-part series here. Enjoy Part I of two.

Just Once

Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit/MDNI (smut, language); all characters are 18+ Words: ~5,800 Tags: friends with benefits, friends to lovers, mutual pining, smut, sexual exploration

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

“Happy birthday, darling.”

You stifled an amused snort as Sebastian Sallow presented you with a poorly wrapped package. The faded brown paper was clinging for dear life and a green bow had been slapped precariously on top. It was clearly a glass bottle of something Professor Weasley would love to confiscate. You narrowed your eyes at it.

“This isn’t one of Garreth’s concoctions, is it?” you asked warily.

“Nope, nothing but pure, 100% firewhiskey,” Sebastian quipped. He plucked the package from your hand and unwrapped it. You watched him uncork the bottle and take a long swig. “See? No poison or wayward potions here.”

“Did you just buy me that so I’d share it with you?” you mused. Sebastian shrugged and took another drink before returning the bottle to your hand. 

“Nothing wrong with a birthday gift that benefits us both,” he offered. You rolled your eyes and took a drink. The liquid burned all the way down, blooming spiced heat through your throat. It was a welcome distraction.

You hated your birthday. Orphaned since birth, you hadn’t received many annual celebrations. Some years, you forgot about it entirely. It wasn’t until your sixteenth birthday, the first one you’d spent at Hogwarts, that anyone cared to celebrate with you. You were always grateful for your friends for that.

Still, turning eighteen twisted a knot in your gut. You were an official adult now, meaning you’d be expected to live like one. Your Hogwarts days were trickling to an end, with graduation just weeks away. You’d already lined up a job as an auror in training with the Ministry of Magic. You were set to move to London and share a flat with Imelda Reyes. Your plans were all set in place. Adulthood was just around the corner, and on paper, you were prepared. But inside, terror twisted in your chest and turned your stomach.

You drank until the bottle’s neck was empty. 

“Thanks for this,” you said, raising the bottle toward Sebastian. He offered you his signature lopsided grin. 

“Not every day my best friend turns eighteen,” he said. 

“Don’t remind me,” you sighed dramatically.

“Oh, come on, it’s not so bad,” Sebastian said. “I turned eighteen last month and haven’t turned into a stuffy adult yet.”

“That’s because you spent your eighteenth birthday piss drunk until you ended up in bed with Violet McDowell.”

“Best birthday I ever had.”

You snorted and took another swig.

“Speaking of piss-drunk debauchery, where’s that boyfriend of yours?” Sebastian asked. 

“He’s not my boyfriend!” you groaned. It felt like the firewhiskey was already surging to your brain, though talking about your love life – or lack thereof – was enough to make you feel drunk and disheveled.

“Fine, fine. Where’s that bloke you’ve been messing around with?” Sebastian continued.

“He’s spending the weekend with his family.”

“And he’s missing your birthday?” Sebastian tutted. 

“He’s not my boyfriend, Sebastian,” you repeated, your tone edging with warning. “I don’t expect him to celebrate my birthday. We’re just friends.”

“Friends,” Sebastian repeated. “Right.”

“What’s wrong with that?” you demanded with narrowed eyes. You wanted to claw the smirk off his face. Or kiss it.

“Nothing,” Sebastian shrugged innocently. “Just thought Northcott would try a little harder to lock you down now that you’re an adult and all.”

“What on Earth does that have to do with anything?” you snorted.

“We’re all graduating soon. People are starting to pair off,” Sebastian explained. “Everyone else is starting to think of marriage and families and the future.”

“Oh? Who are you proposing marriage to then?” 

“Professor Garlick.”

You snorted into the whiskey bottle. “You wish.”

“That I do.” Sebastian sighed longingly for dramatic effect.

“But really,” you continued. “Who are you courting for forever? Haven’t seen you with anyone since that time I saw you and Charlotte stumbling out of Sharp’s potions cupboard.”

“I said everyone else is starting to pair off,” Sebastian noted. “Not me.”

“Oh, think you’re too good for everyone at Hogwarts?”

“Not at all. To the contrary, I think my reputation has tainted my chances with any ladies here at Hogwarts.”

“And whose fault is that?” you teased.

“Not deflecting any blame,” Sebastian said simply. “I just don’t think any of Hogwarts’ eligible bachelorettes are interested in someone with my track record.”

It was true, Sebastian had developed a reputation for being rather… experienced. Or as Ominis Gaunt put it, Sebastian had “dipped his quill in far too many inkwells.” But it wasn’t because Sebastian wanted to run through every girl at Hogwarts. You’d watched him stumble and fumble his way through attempts at relationships with honest intent. He was simply too messy for most people.

It took a special kind of patience and understanding to maintain any kind of relationship with Sebastian Sallow, be it friendship or something more. The thing about Sebastian was he didn’t always get things right, but he was always sincere. You knew that about him. In fact, you knew most things about him. But Sebastian had never looked at you with the same kind of lust and intrigue he’d looked at other girls. You were his best friend and confidant, the keeper of his deepest secrets, not his deepest desires. 

You’d accepted that ages ago, but every now and then, you couldn’t help but eye your best friend with a wistful kind of melancholy. Just once, you wished he’d see you as a woman rather than an anchor. Sure, you loved being his safe space, but you also wanted him to feel the dirty draw of sinful desire when he looked at you. Just once.

“Well, maybe someday the great Sebastian Sallow will find a woman willing to tolerate his antics,” you finally teased. Sebastian plucked the whiskey bottle from your fingers and took a drink. 

“Maybe someday,” he said simply. Silence settled between you, a cozy kind of quiet that often indicated you were both mulling over some thought you were reluctant to share. It was rare – you and Sebastian spilled nearly every thought that came to mind – but sometimes you enjoyed the intrigue of withholding from him. 

“Can you imagine us, married?” you wondered aloud. “I mean, not to each other, of course, but in general- to other people.”

Your face flushed and you cursed yourself for being stupid enough to bring up the topic of marriage in the presence of Sebastian when alcohol was currently coursing through your system.

Sebastian grinned at you. “What, don’t think I’d be husband material?” he quipped. 

“I think I’d end up hexing you before we even reached the altar,” you shot back. 

“Oh, interesting. I’d love to honeymoon while covered in bruises and boils.”

“Keep talking and maybe you will.”

“Yeah? And where would you like to honeymoon, dear?”

“Someplace warm and romantic.”

“How whimsy. Tell Northcott to pack swimwear.”

You elbowed Sebastian in the side in annoyance. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

“Ow! Alright, fine. He’s not your boyfriend. No need for violence.”

“No need to be so daft.”

“Merlin, adulthood makes you awfully mean,” Sebastian whined. You scowled at him and he chuckled. “I suppose it’s my own fault for giving you firewhiskey.”

“You trying to get me drunk?”

“I don’t need to try.”

“Touche.” You raised the bottle again and chugged until your cheeks burned. The boathouse fell quiet again, the sound of the lake’s surface gently lapping against the docks as a pair of boats bobbed in the water.

“Didn’t you have plans tonight?” you finally asked. “I thought most everyone was going to the Three Broomsticks.”

“They were,” Sebastian sighed. “And I was supposed to bring you there as a surprise.”

“Surprise?”

“Poppy and Imelda wanted to surprise you with a cake or something.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You seemed pretty intent on staying here,” Sebastian shrugged. “But I’m sure everyone’s still there if you want to head into the village.”

“No.” You shook your head. The liquor had seeped into your bloodstream and the notion of walking, or even standing, seemed overwhelming. Truthfully, you had no interest in singing or cake. You were happiest sitting in quiet seclusion with Sebastian. “You can blame me when Imelda inevitably tries to take your head off. Tell her the truth – I drank too much and didn’t make it outside the castle.”

“Whatever you say, birthday girl.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” you continued. “Didn’t you have plans tonight?”

Sebastian shrugged a shoulder. “Not really. It’s your birthday. My only plan was you.”

“Oh. I thought I overheard Nerida saying the two of you were meeting up.”

“Nerida says a lot of things,” Sebastian muttered. You watched him take a long drink from the bottle. 

“Oh, come on. She’s not so bad,” you giggled. “If you can get past the fascination with merpeople, she’s pretty nice.”

“Fascination?” Sebastian snorted. “It’s much worse than that. She once tried to hook up with me near the far window in the Common Room, said it would feel like she’s underwater. Normally that might be kind of hot, but she clearly wanted to do some kind of merperson roleplay.”

You choked on your latest sip of firewhiskey and began to laugh until you hiccuped. It was a deep, belly laugh that echoed through the boathouse. 

“Merlin,” you giggled. “Did she want you to talk dirty to her in Mermish too?”

“It’s not funny,” Sebastian chided, though you could hear the laughter in his voice.

“Oh, Sebastian!” you teased in a breathy, suggestive tone. “Pin my fins down!”

You erupted with another bout of uncontrollable laughter, so loud Sebastian finally had to clamp a hand over your mouth. 

“Someone’s going to hear you!” he hissed. You pried his hand away and rolled your eyes.

“Who? No one comes down here at night. Unless Nerida’s trying to get you in the water for a rendezvous.” You snorted at your own joke, the firewhiskey making it difficult to keep any composure. “Though from what I remember after helping her during fifth year, she’s not much of a swimmer. Hope you can keep her afloat. Maybe there’s a useful spell for that. Or maybe she’d let you fuck her on the beach over there.” 

Sebastian shot you a deadpan stare as you grinned at him. “Messing around with her in the showers was bad enough,” he said. “She likes the water ice cold.”

You cackled at the confession. It was the only way to reduce the sting of Sebastian fooling around with other girls. “Stop it,” you wheezed, tears welling in your eyes. “You really are her magic merman.”

“Not after that,” Sebastian muttered. “I’d rather not catch pneumonia during sex.”

“Aww, where’s the fun in that, Seb?” you teased. “Too sensitive for a cold shower?”

“More like too sane.”

“Poor Nerida,” you cooed in a taunting tone. “All she wants is a merman to make her happy.”

“Yeah well, it’s not going to be me.”

“It’s not nice to kink shame, Sebastian.”

“You’re the one laughing!”

Your banter sent you into another fit of drunken giggles, leaving you laughing so hard you slumped against Sebastian for support. He shook his head at you, his eyes glinting with fond amusement.

“I suppose it’s fair,” you continued once you caught your breath. “Awfully hard to enjoy any nude activities when you’re numb to the bone. I personally can’t tolerate a shower that’s anything short of damn near scalding.”

“Should’ve guessed a demon from the depths of Hell likes her water hot,” Sebastian muttered, drawing a glare from you. 

“I find it relaxing!”

“Whatever gets you off, darling.”

Perhaps it was the irony of his words. Perhaps – or most certainly – it was the alcohol. Something sent you into your worst fit of giggles yet, laughing controllably until you were flat on your back on the stone floor.

Sebastian blinked downward at you when the outburst finally subsided.

“Nothing gets me off,” you snorted. Sebastian’s eyes narrowed.

“What on Earth does that mean?” he asked.

“You know what I mean,” you babbled on, still on your back as your gaze met his from the floor. “Like, I can’t do that.” 

“Do what?”

“That. Get off.”

Sebastian stilled. He clearly thought he knew what you were implying, but was afraid to make any assumptions. Sure, the two of you talked about sex, but not like this.

“And by get off, you mean…” he led, hoping you’d finish the sentence.

“During sex,” you said stupidly. “I can’t get off.”

“You can’t… finish?” Sebastian finally managed.

“Exactly.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” Sebastian pressed. Had you not been so intoxicated, you might have noticed how alarmed he looked by your revelation.

“I don’t know,” you answered simply. “I just can’t. It physically doesn’t happen.”

“You mean ever? Or recently?”

“Ever. Never ever.”

“Never? What about… you know, when you’re on your own?”

“Nope.” You shook your head and winced as it rocked against the cold, hard ground.

“So let me get this straight,” Sebastian said, straightening in his seated position on the ground, his long legs outstretched. “You’re trying to tell me that you’ve never had an orgasm?”

“Nope.”

“You’re lying.”

“Why the fuck would I lie about that?”

“Because that’s mental!” 

“It’s true!”

“But you… you’ve been with… people.”

“I’m aware of my sexual history, Seb.”

“But… but none of those blokes have… you know…”

“They do. But I don’t. It’s okay, really,” you rattled on. “I just assume my body is incapable or something. Like some kind of defect. But I still enjoy sex.”

Clearly your inhibitions were spent. You’d never have revealed your secret so readily had you been sober. In the morning, you’d be mortified at yourself for revealing such details to Sebastian of all people.

“But what’s the point?” Sebastian blurted out incredulously. You blinked upward at him, utterly confused why he appeared so offended that you were incapable of a climax.

“It’s not a big deal!” you insisted. “Sex can still be fun and enjoyable. It still feels good.”

“But don’t you want to know how it feels to… you know?”

“Well, obviously!” you snorted. “Of course, I would. But if I can’t do it myself – and believe me, I’ve tried – then I can’t expect anyone else to be able to do it either. It’s no one’s fault. The blokes I’ve been with have certainly tried. It just doesn’t work.”

Sebastian’s brain stuttered. He was stunned that you’d never known how it felt to fall apart in such a blissful manner, but he was also furious that any man would allow you to believe it was impossible.

“They must not have tried hard enough,” Sebastian said.

“They have, really,” you said, sitting up on your elbows as you eyed him with amusement. “It’s really no big deal, Seb. No need to get worked up about it.”

“It’s unacceptable!”

You couldn’t help but snort at his insulted demeanor. “Seb, relax,” you laughed. “It’s just an unfortunate fact of life. I can’t get off and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“I bet I could do it.”

“Huh?!” You sat up so fast, your head spun. 

“I could do it,” Sebastian repeated so boldly, you began to wonder if someone had placed him under the Imperius Curse. “I could make you… you know.” He swallowed. “I could make you orgasm.”

The boathouse’s cool air no longer felt refreshing against your flushed face. It became heavy and oppressive, suffocating as you searched for something to say.

Instead, you threw your head back and laughed this time, deflecting the need for words. After all, Sebastian had merely been joking, right? And the polite thing to do was to laugh when someone made a joke. Nevermind the fact your head was reeling from the mere thought of Sebastian offering to touch you.

But Sebastian had been quite serious, though he decided to drop the subject the moment you began laughing. He’d play along and pretend it had all been in jest. After all, you were too busy laughing to notice the way his eyes shifted nervously to the ground.

You were also too busy laughing to notice the arrival of Professor Weasley, who promptly scolded you for drinking on school grounds and gave you detention.

—

The following morning, you found yourself spectacularly hungover and embarrassed. You could deal with the first of those dilemmas with some pastries and a pepper-up potion, but the second one could only be resolved by flinging yourself into a stampede of wild hippogriffs.

Instead, you sulked around your dorm room in hopes of avoiding Sebastian until you couldn’t stand the confines of the small space anymore. You slunk into the Slytherin Common Room, where you spotted Sebastian and Ominis chatting in the chairs by the fireplace. 

You swore under your breath and scurried toward the exit. 

“Oi!” 

You swore even louder at the sound of Imelda calling after you. You stopped in your tracks and sighed, turning to face her as she approached. 

“Professor Weasley was looking for you,” she said. “Told me to let you know you and Sallow have detention tomorrow evening.”

“Fabulous,” you muttered. Imelda eyed you with a smirk.

“What’d you two do this time? Does it have anything to do with you bailing on your own birthday?” she asked.

“Got a little too drunk in the boathouse,” you answered. Imelda rolled her eyes. 

“You do know you could have done that at the Three Boomsticks without the detention?”

“Ah, but then she wouldn’t have been able to spend some quality time with her best friend.” Sebastian appeared beside you and draped an arm around your shoulders. You inhaled sharply as his fingers played with your hair.

Imelda shook her head and returned to her chess match. 

“Come with me to the Undercroft,” Sebastian said in your ear.

“Seb, I need to study-”

“It’s Saturday.”

“So?”

“So, in the nearly three years I’ve known you, you’ve never wasted a Saturday with studying. Now let’s go.”

You sighed and followed him quietly to the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower, your arms folded cautiously across your chest. Sebastian turned around to frown at you when he noticed your silence.

“Alright?” he asked.

“Alright. Just a little hungover.”

“Need a pepper-up?”

“I drank one. Just still a little groggy, is all.”

As you continued toward the entrance to the Undercroft, he didn’t address the revelation you’d made last night. You prayed he’d been too drunk to remember. 

That prayer was short-lived as you stepped into the Undercroft.

A large mirror was now leaning against the far wall and the sofa you’d conjured your fifth year had been moved in front of it.

“Sebastian…” you started slowly as you eyed the changed room. He didn’t respond. Instead, he led you toward the sofa, where he stood and lingered, his hands stuffed in his pockets. That was when you noticed the tension in his jaw. 

He was nervous, you realized, and you couldn’t help but suspect it had to do with the confession you’d made the previous night.

“Sebastian,” you repeated as you stood behind the sofa, gazing at your own reflection in the mirror. “What is this?”

“I thought about what you said,” Sebastian said in one breath. “That thing you confided. And I meant what I said. I want to help.”

Oh, fuck.

“Seb, that’s… this… you don’t…” You began to wonder if your heart had ascended into your throat. “You don’t need to do that.”

“But would you let me?”

“Huh?”

“Do you… would you let me? Would you let me try?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Why not? I mean, you don’t have to do anything in return. I’d never ask that of you.”

“Oh.”

“Look,” Sebastian sighed as he dragged a hand through his hair. His eyes were very decisively avoiding yours. “I just think… you deserve to know how it feels. And I genuinely think I could help you.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at him. “Awfully confident of you to assume that,” you mused.

“Awfully disheartening of you to assume I can’t.”

“I didn’t say that,” you said. “It’s just that it’s never happened before.”

“That’s because you’ve never been with me.”

A flush crept up the back of your neck and you felt faint. But even a situation as awkward as this couldn’t keep you from matching Sebastian blow-for-blow. 

“And you always leave every girl you’ve been with completely satisfied?” you challenged. Sebastian smirked at you.

“No one’s ever filed any complaints. If anything, they become repeat customers.” He chuckled when you shot him a look of disgust. “Only joking, darling.”

But you were out of smart words and quick retorts. Now, your head was reeling with the decision you faced. You could say no and leave the Undercroft, and likely the remnants of your friendship with Sebastian. Or you could agree. And at the very least, you’d learn how it’d feel to finally be touched by him, just once. At best, he’d live up to his word and show you the glimpse of heaven you never thought your eyes would meet. Just once.

“Alright, fine,” you finally agreed. “If you’re so sure of yourself, let’s see that magic touch.” You couldn’t believe you’d just agreed to something so reckless and bold

Sebastian blinked. He hadn’t necessarily assumed you’d say no, but he’d been trying to censor his expectations – and hope. 

“A-alright, good,” he said with a nod. He gestured toward the sofa and cleared his throat. “I figured maybe this could help.”

“A mirror?” you asked warily. 

“Yes.”

Sebastian’s confidence hitched as reality ensnared itself in his head. The two of you were about to do something far more intimate than he ever could have envisioned. Of course, he certainly had pictured you in all states of undress, folded beneath him, perched on top of him, and every position in-between. But those were all fantasies, preserved for the quiet sanctity of Sebastian’s mind.

Now, he’d talked himself atop a pedestal and had to prove himself. But this was more than a notch in his belt and another girl to impress. This was you.

But Sebastian was just as stubborn and just as determined as you. And, like you, he always fought tooth and nail to keep his word. Especially when it came to matters that concerned you.

He studied you for a moment, your spine far straighter than usual and your cheeks flushed. You blinked back at him with wide eyes that made his trousers tighten. He felt like a predator waiting to sink his teeth into his prey. 

Once he’d gathered the confidence to convince his legs to work, Sebastian moved toward the sofa and sat smack-dab in the center of it. His arms were draped across the back, his knees parted, while his eyes met yours in the mirror’s reflection. He'd never looked more alluring — or more intimidating.

“Come sit.” It took a fleeting moment for you to understand he didn’t mean for you to lounge next to him. He wanted you to sit between his legs.

“O-okay,” you breathed. You moved at a glacial pace, terrified to appear too eager, eyes locked on the floor, before you stood above Sebastian. When you finally met his gaze, he licked his lips. The ache between your thighs blazed.

“I was thinking,” Sebastian continued as he spun you around so you were looking at yourself in the mirror. He peeked around you to see your reflection as he spoke. “I’ve noticed you’re a visual learner. You always master spells and potion brews as soon as you see them in action. So I thought maybe it’d help you to see yourself. Maybe if you can see what… you like, it’ll make it easier for you to… fully enjoy it.”

“Oh.”

Sebastian reached a hand toward you and you inhaled sharply. He paused, his outstretched hand lingering near your waist. “May I?” he asked. You nodded, unsure your tongue could craft a coherent response.

Sebastian’s hand rested on your waist, his fingers dragging across the fabric that covered the top of your thigh as his hand drifted downward. It snaked lower and lower until his fingers found the hem of your skirt. As his hand disappeared beneath it, cotton filled your mouth.

You could feel both of his hands retreat upward, grazing your thighs until he could feel the seam of your panties. You swallowed a whimper.

“Can I take these off?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” you rasped. The pads of his calloused fingertips felt rough against your skin as they tugged at the waistband of your panties and slid them downward. You watched your reflection as your panties pooled at your feet and your thigh muscles twitched.

Sebastian removed his hands from beneath the hem of your skirt and cleared his throat. “Sit,” he murmured.

Your racing heart threatened to crack your ribs inside your chest as you willed your knees to bend. You lowered yourself cautiously until you were seated between Sebastian’s thighs. But you sat at the very edge of the sofa, terrified to move any closer, and certain the ringing in your ears would leave you deaf.

“It’s okay,” Sebastian murmured in your ear. His breath was hot against the nape of your neck as he hooked an arm around your waist to tug you closer. Your breath hitched when the warmth of his body met yours. His chest pressed against your back. “Alright?”

You nodded in response, terrified to look him in the eye via your reflections. Instead, you stared at the floor as Sebastian began inching the hem of your skirt upward until it was bunched around your torso, exposing everything you had to offer. 

“Fucking hell,” Sebastian breathed against your neck.

When you finally gathered the courage to look in the mirror, you were certain you had tripped and fallen face-first into one of those dreams that you never dared to speak of. There you were, splayed out in the most obscene pose imaginable with Sebastian peering over your shoulder at your sacred pink flesh. You’d never seen something so sinful, and you’d certainly never thought you’d be front and center in such a scene.

Sebastian stared back at you with dark, heavy eyes that might have petrified you had he been anyone else. You could feel his chest heaving against your back, his breaths much more labored than usual. 

You could also feel something that was most certainly not his wand pressing into the small of your back. Arousal seeped from your entrance. You squeezed your eyes shut to steady yourself. 

But a hand roamed to your chest and your eyes shot open as Sebastian unbuttoned the top half of your blouse. 

“Can I… touch you?” he said in your ear. Another nod in response.

Sebastian’s left hand disappeared inside your blouse and you swallowed a moan as his fingers grazed your right nipple. He cupped your breast fully until you had to squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to relieve the pressure between them.

“Hey now,” Sebastian purred, his free hand reaching to pry your knees apart again. “You’re supposed to be watching.”

You bit back the urge to scold him for not doing more, to beg him to touch you in all the ways you’d only envisioned when left to your own thoughts in private. But Sebastian sensed your waning patience. His hand drifted up your leg and you watched the fingers of his reflection trace the crease of your thigh. The slickness pooling at your entrance was a dizzying paradox to the heat that scalded your nerve endings.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes,” you rasped with much more gusto than you’d intended. Your resolve had withered and you weren’t above begging Sebastian to do something, anything to put a stop to your suffering.

“Just… tell me if you want me to stop,” Sebastian said. And before you could beg him to continue, his index and middle fingers skimmed your folds. They met your clit and pressed until a whimper finally escaped your throat.

Sebastian’s fingers swiped gently until you were digging your nails into the tops of your own thighs. The delicious friction was enough to make you wonder if Sebastian really would live up to the hype he’d created for himself. Other boys were good, but this was Sebastian.

As his fingers inched closer to your entrance, you whined and bucked your hips.

“So that’s where you like it,” Sebastian murmured in your ear. “See?”

You hummed in agreement and watched as Sebastian’s fingers pressed more before they finally sank inside of you. You moaned as they disappeared, then reappeared, dipping into your core until you could hear them parting your walls.

You clenched yourself tighter around them, begging them to show you what they could do, while you watched, half-lidded, in awe at the erotic scene that had unfolded. Sebastian’s brow was furrowed in concentration, a vision you would have found endearing had you not been on the cusp of unraveling in his arms. Instead, you merely marveled at the masterpiece framed in the mirror before you; your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as Sebastian's thighs flanked your sides. Now wasn't the time for sentimental discoveries, but you couldn't help but notice how perfectly you fit in front of him.

When Sebastian’s fingers pulled against your front wall, his other hand thumbed your nipple. You gasped at the dual sensations and Sebastian smirked at your reflection. “See? You like that, don’t you?”

When he pulled his fingers from you, you whimpered at the loss of pressure and the sight of your own arousal clinging to him. He groaned at his coated fingers and returned them to your clit. They pressed and prodded until you moaned again. “Right there,” Sebastian said as he ensured your eyes were still watching in the mirror. "See? This is the spot that drives you wild, isn't it?"

More and more pressure, scraping and swiping against that spot you liked; your eyes clinging to the reflection of your swollen cunt as Sebastian’s fingers danced against your flesh, his other hand squeezing your breast. 

"Sebastian, please," you begged.

It all felt far too good to be true.

“I’m going to try something,” Sebastian said in your ear. “It’s going to feel like a lot of pressure. I’ll stop if it gets to be too much, but if you can, try to relax your body, okay?”

“Okay.”

Sebastian’s middle finger sank inside of you and his hand jerked upward in quick, sharp motions, the heel of his palm dabbing against your clit. You heaved a resounding moan and your eyes finally clamped shut. 

Something was happening within your core. You’d felt it before, scraped its surface, but never pierced the barrier. It was a low simmer turned scalding, reaching a rolling boil that begged to breach its confines.

“Relax,” you heard Sebastian command. You exhaled violently, willing the tension and air to vacate your body as your eyes squeezed tighter and your chest caved. And when it did, the mounting pressure in your walls released. You cried out in surprise, stunned at the dizzying pleasure that pulsed through your core as your back arched and thighs quivered. It shocked your body until you were so sensitive, you were gritting your teeth. 

Sebastian’s hand didn’t stop until you did, and when your high finally subsided, you slumped into spineless submission, still whimpering at the foreign feeling between your legs.

When your eyes finally dared to glance toward the mirror, you caught a glimpse of your fucked out reflection, hair plastered to your crimson face while Sebastian stared at you in awe.

You wanted to praise him, worship him at an altar of the utmost holiness; crawl on your knees atop a bed of nails just to prove your gratitude and worth; declare your unwavering devotion to him, a god among mere mortals.

Your religion was Sebastian Sallow and you were the ultimate disciple. 

“I…” You didn’t know why you were bothering to try for words. Nothing you said could restore your dignity – not that you wanted it back. Not after that feeling; that precious jolt of new euphoria. Sebastian had earned his rightful place as God in your eyes.

“Are you alright?” Sebastian asked, still eyeing you in the mirror.

You wished you could fire off some sort of witty response. That was your best defense when left in a vulnerable state, and you’d never felt more vulnerable than in this moment. Hell, you were still slumped against Sebastian with your skirt hiked around your waist while his hand lingered against your soaked entrance. 

The comedown from your climax felt like the worst celebration ever – a birthday party held in a funeral parlor. Your nerves lingered with elation but your brain filled with panic, especially as you realized Sebastian’s hard cock was still pressed into your lower back.

You reached behind your own back for it and heard him hiss when your fingers curled around its outline, still straining against the fabric of his trousers.

“Not tonight, darling,” he said, wrapping his own fingers around your wrist to stop you.

“But-”

“No. Remember our deal?”

“That was hardly a deal,” you said, meeting his gaze in the mirror. Your knees had fallen shut and the front of your blouse was askew, making it difficult for you to take yourself seriously. “It was more of a declaration on your behalf.”

“And it seems my declaration was correct, was it not?”

“Obviously, it was,” you admitted. You were in no state to claim otherwise. Not when you were still panting, your cunt still twitching from the aftermath of your first orgasm that came at the literal hands of Sebastian Sallow. 

Sebastian’s reflection flashed you a proud smirk. You knew he'd likely hold this above you forever. What you didn't know was how eager he was to relieve himself at the memory of you falling apart for the first time around his fingers. He couldn't believe he'd been the one to achieve that honor.

"Then perhaps you can make it up to me some other time,” he said.

“Some other time? You plan on doing this again?” you challenged as you began to button your blouse. 

Finally, that vulnerability you’d been feeling coursed its way into Sebastian. He swallowed and dropped his gaze. “Only if it interests you,” he said, feigning nonchalance with a shrug. “You know, if you still find those other sorry blokes are unable to leave you satisfied.”

"I suppose you're pretty pleased with yourself, aren't you?" you murmured.

"Not nearly as pleased as you, it seems."

You wanted to roll your eyes at him or call him a rude name, but how could you possibly aim any harsh words at the man who had just introduced you to utopia?

Not wanting to appear too eager to linger between his legs, you begrudgingly rose to your feet to adjust your skirt and panties. Sebastian remained seated and you couldn’t help but sneak a glance at the tent in his trousers, which you noted looked much more impressive than Eric Northcott’s. You decided there would absolutely be a next time.

[its-avalon-08]

would you consider writing a Raikkonen or Vettel reader x grid, where she’s a lawyer w the same fierceness as her brother, and the drivers get into media trouble and she goes all harvey specter on the problem and leaves the drivers speechless/ scared/ impressed/ proud etc. thank you for considering this love your work!!!

objection bitch

✦ pairing - f1 grid x female!lawyer!vettel!reader

✦ genre - all fluff

The FIA had crossed the line. Again. In a shock to nobody.

A new rule had come into place penalizing drivers for swearing in post-race interviews and the race. Ridiculous. Absolutely fucking ridiculous. The grid was in an uproar, but no one had the power to do anything about it. No one except Y/N Vettel.

If there was one person who could go toe-to-toe with the FIA and emerge victorious, it was her. A formidable lawyer, sharp as a blade, and just as relentless as her brother, Sebastian Vettel, in a fight. The drivers had learned long ago not to underestimate her. But this? This was war.

And Y/N was ready as ever.

“What are they gonna do? Fine us for every ‘shit’ or ‘fuck’ we let slip?” Lando scoffed, shaking his head as he, Charles, and Max sat in a conference room waiting for Y/N.

“They already have,” Carlos muttered, tossing a paper on the table. This was unacceptable. How were the drivers not allowed to CURSE? Were they toddlers?!

Y/N entered the room with a folder in hand, slamming it down with a force that made George sit up straighter. “Alright, let’s get one thing straight,” she began, voice crisp. “This rule is unconstitutional, violates multiple freedom of expression precedents, and is fundamentally stupid.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Hamilton said with an approving nod.

Y/N continued, eyes glinting. “The FIA is overstepping. Swearing is not slander, it is not defamatory, and it is not harming anyone except for some pearl-clutching bureaucrats who think drivers should be robots. I am filing a formal challenge.”

“A lawsuit?” Charles asked, eyebrows raised.

“A lawsuit,” Y/N confirmed, leaning forward. “We will argue that this rule is vague, arbitrary, and restricts free speech. We’ll also highlight that no other sport enforces such nonsense. If footballers can scream expletives mid-match and not get fined, why should you?”

Daniel Ricciardo grinned. “You are actually my hero.”

Max, arms crossed, smirked. “This is going to be fun.”

It was finally courtroom day.

The FIA’s lawyers sat across from Y/N, already shifting uncomfortably in their seats. She was poised, calm, and radiating pure authority. Dressed in an all black ensemble she looked like she ate losers for breakfast.

The lead FIA attorney cleared his throat. “Ms. Vettel, the FIA merely wishes to maintain a professional environment in post-race interviews for viewers.”

Y/N tilted her head, her smile sharp. “Define ‘professional,’ then. Because as far as I know, passion is part of the sport. Swearing out of frustration, joy, or sheer adrenaline doesn’t harm anyone. If anything, it makes drivers more relatable. Unless, of course, the FIA prefers that they all sound like pre-programmed AI.”

Murmurs from the audience. The drivers, seated together in the back, exchanged smirks.

“Furthermore,” Y/N continued, “this rule is selectively enforced. Are you prepared to produce data showing that every instance of swearing has caused a dip in viewership or complaints? Or will I have to subpoena past race interviews to prove bias?” (guys im sorry I googled most used lawyer terms so idk if its correct or not)

The FIA’s lawyers hesitated.

Y/N leaned in. “Let’s talk precedents. In 2019, the Court of Arbitration for Sport ruled that sports organizations cannot impose arbitrary speech restrictions unless they are justified by legitimate concerns. Tell me, gentlemen, what legitimate concern does the FIA have?”

The lead attorney fumbled with his papers.

Y/N smirked. “Nothing? Thought so.”

She turned to the judge. “We are requesting an injunction on this rule, as it is vague, inconsistently enforced, and lacks merit. We also seek damages for the fines already imposed.”

The judge glanced at the FIA’s team. “Do you have a counterargument?”

Silence.

Carlos leaned over to Charles. “She’s terrifying.”

“I know,” Charles whispered. “It’s bloody amazing.”

The ruling came swiftly. The swearing fines were scrapped.

The drivers were ecstatic. In celebration, Daniel made it his mission to curse as colorfully as possible in his next interview, just because he could.

Y/N received a round of applause when she walked back into the paddock that weekend. Max, standing off to the side, simply smiled. “Proud of you, schat.”

She nudged him playfully. “You should be. I’m basically the FIA’s worst nightmare now.”

Max grinned. “Oh, you definitely are.”

And she loved it.

Later that night, the drivers sat around in the paddock lounge, laughing as Lando held up his phone, Sebastian's name glowing on the screen.

“Do it, do it!” Charles urged, barely holding back his grin.

Lando hit the call button and put it on speaker. The dial tone rang before Sebastian picked up. “Lando?”

“Seb!” Lando beamed. “Mate, your sister is an absolute legend.”

Sebastian chuckled. “I assume she won?”

“Won? She obliterated them,” Daniel chimed in. “I’ve never seen FIA lawyers look like they wanted to evaporate before today.”

“She literally made them speechless,” George added. “It was… kind of scary.”

Sebastian sighed dramatically. “And to think, I used to help her with her homework.”

“You should be honored, mate,” Max teased. “Your sister might be more feared in F1 than you were.”

Sebastian groaned, but they could hear the pride in his voice. “Don’t tell her that, or she’ll never let me live it down.”

Lando grinned. “Too late.”

[megwritesriddles]

Like You Deserve ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Sebastian (Stardew Valley) x Reader / You

Summary: Reader is left adrift after a disappointing relationship with Shane comes to an equally disappointing end, but Sebastian wants to show them how they deserved to be treated all this time.

Tags: Unprotected sex, Filming sex, Friends to lovers, Dirty talk, Past Shane/Reader, Reader was cheated on, Shane-bashing!! (sorry), Making ex jealous, SoftDom!Sebastian, Reader is as gender neutral as possible (I'm used to writing fem!reader so sorry if that shows)

Word count: 3.5k

all fandom masterlist | sdv masterlist | read it on ao3

Authors note: Based on a request by the lovely @i-live-in-spite ! Apologies for all the Shane bashing but... I had to for the story!!! Someone pls send help making the cover images for these sdv fics, it's so hard :00!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

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Things had been tense for a while between you and Shane. You could feel it, he’d started acting cold again from time to time, like back when you first met him, not the sweet guy that you had known for a couple of months there when everything seemed fine. You supposed it was just the end of the honeymoon phase, or maybe he was just in some sort of autumn funk, but you assumed it would blow over, he’d had bad days before, but this was just an extended one. Surely. But no. 

He’d been cheating on you. When you’d found the conversations on what he’d always told you was a ‘gridball discussion board’ online, you were floored. He’d begged and pleaded with you to forgive him, that he wouldn’t do it again, that he hadn’t even met them in person, but that made it all the worse. He threw away what he had with you, months of effort to get him to trust you, you ignoring everyone who said you were significantly out of his league, giving him kindness and understanding at every turn, for someone he hadn’t even met in person. He continued to plead with you to stay, that it was a mistake and you were better than anyone else, but you were too proud. You gathered what few things you had in his room and stomped out never to return. It hurt, badly, you had put so much time and effort into your relationship with him, an effort everyone told you that you’d been wasting. It seemed in the end, they’d been right all along.

Shane continued sending letters and trying to corner you in town, telling you how much he regretted what he did and how badly he needed you back. Deep down, you knew he only wanted you to come care for him again. You weren’t sure if he’d ever really loved you or if he’d merely used you. How can you cheat on someone you love? Every time he said he still loved you, the words felt more poisonous. He finally begins to leave you alone again after a while, pouting and glaring at you whenever you are nearby, trying his best to look pitiful so you might come crawling back. You couldn’t believe that this was the man you’d thought you’d loved.

A benefit of the end of your relationship was that you were spending more time with friends again, namely, male friends. Shane had always been deeply jealous and insecure, indirectly making you cut off all your male friends, always paranoid that you might choose them over him. What was the expression? Every accusation is a confession? Sam and Sebastian welcomed you back with open arms, not asking many questions, glad you were joining them for pool again. They could tell you were sad, especially the first few weeks, but opted to try to cheer you up rather than ask you about it. It was clear that it was over between you and Shane, and Sebastian couldn’t be more happy. 

He’d been planning to make a move on you back in spring, but your relationship had started with Shane and he was out in the cold, even as your friend. He understood though, he knew Shane was deeply jealous, so accepted your apologies and promises never to let someone come between the two of you again. He pays you special attention, letting you win at pool to cheer you up and buying you your favourite drinks, anything to wipe that sad look off your face. He’s occasionally intervened and demanded Shane to leave you alone, which only angers the man further, but he does stand down.

It’s one of those nights where he’s paying you special attention, he’d told Shane to ‘fuck off’ from glaring at you across the Saloon a few hours ago and was staying late with you to talk. He’d missed you a lot while you’d been hiding away from the world with Shane, you seemed so much lighter these days, you almost had a glow about you. He had his arm slung around your shoulder, a risky move which had paid off, listening to you talk on a tucked away couch, just the two of you. You were a little tipsy, not enough to be worrisome, but enough to have you rambling. You’d never really talked about what happened with Shane, but everyone knew it must have been something bad, based on how the two of you were acting. The leading theory in town was an argument about his drinking that couldn’t be solved, perhaps he had broken something while drunk. When you reveal to him that he’d been cheating, Sebastian’s jaw hangs open for a moment. Your cheeks flush and glance around nervously in his silence.

“He what?” Sebastian hisses. 

“They hadn’t even met in person it was just… chats–” you ramble, trying to play it down so Sebastian would stop looking at you like that.

“Still! I can’t believe his audacity! To cheat on you… he was insanely lucky you ever even gave him a second glance,” Sebastian scoffs. He’d always felt this way, but knowing what Shane had willingly thrown away, he feels wildly incensed, anger growing inside him. “No one deserves that but especially not you! You’re stunning and he’s… well, him,” he rolls his eyes, if he was a more violent man, he would go knock some sense into Shane with his fists, but he knew you would never approve of that, you were really too sweet for your own good. You blush and look down, shrugging.

“I don’t know about stunning…”

“You are,” he asserts, glancing over your lightly flushed cheeks and shy expression. “He’s a complete idiot for giving you up, seriously,”

“Well, at least he’s disappointing them in bed now, not me,” you giggle, quickly covering your mouth when you realise what you’ve said aloud, eyes widening. The wine you’d had really loosening your lips, letting things out you’d kept to yourself for too long, itching to gossip. Sebastian’s eyes also widen before letting out a bark of laughter, a smirk settling on his face.

“Damn, cold,” he teases, gently poking your arm to get you to lower your hand. He cups your chin between his fingers and tips your head up to look at him, relishing in the deepening of your blush. “He couldn’t please you?” You bite your lip and shyly shake your head.

“He didn’t try that hard… to be fair,” you try to defend, but you hear yourself and know it sounds weak, it’s hardly a defence, just a further indictment of him. Sebastian’s fingers tighten on your chin, anger coursing through him again. You had been an angel sent from heaven into his life and he hadn’t even tried to please you.

“He’s a piece of shit, to be fair, a total scumbag, you deserve everything,” Sebastian declares, his jaw tight. “He should have been giving you like… 5 orgasms a night, kissing the ground you walked on,” he huffs. You giggle at his hyperbole, though your blush deepens, not used to openly discussing stuff like this, especially not with Sebastian’s thumb rubbing your jaw so gently, his face hovering close to yours. You taste the words before he says them. “That’s what I would do if I had you… you would always be satisfied, always,” he purrs, another risky move but he’s willing to make it. You take a shaky breath and slip your eyes closed, your mind filled suddenly with images of Sebastian pleasing you. “I would never be stupid enough to let you go or hurt you, I’d treat you like you deserve,”

Your lips crash to his without thinking, and his hands instantly fall to your waist, tugging you closer. He hums in excitement, he’d been waiting for this for so long and here it was. You taste delicious, with a hint of the wine from earlier that evening and a sweetness that was entirely your own. He tilts his head to press closer to you, tugging you closer until your legs settle across his lap, one hand caressing your hip, the other moving up to your hair. Your arms snake around his neck, pulling the two of you chest to chest in desperation. You had never felt this way with Shane, pure electricity coursing through your veins, your tongues meeting in a sensual dance, swirling and caressing. 

“Let me please you,” he murmurs between kisses, hand sneaking onto your back beneath your shirt. “Let me show you what it can be like, let me give you what you deserve,” with a breathless nod, he’s lifting you to your feet and the two of you are leaving the Saloon hand in hand.

The way back to your farm is full of your tipsy giggling, his hands softly brushing up and down your body and frequent stops to kiss. You can’t seem to keep your hands off of each other as you press each other up against trees and fences to have another taste. When you finally arrive at your farm, you stumble through the door, lips still connected, hands fisted in the fabric of his hoodie. Every cell in your body is on fire, you haven’t felt this amount of lust in a while, and all the sinful promises Sebastian had whispered against your mouth on your way here only made the anticipation grow. You pull him into the bedroom, stealing kisses as you go, which he returns with a smile. The eagerness surprises him in the best way, you seem totally obsessed with the idea of finding out what he can do for you, and he’s more than happy to show you. He pushes you down onto the bed, caging you in between his arms, hovering above you, moving his kisses down your jaw. The gasp that leaves your lips and that look in your eyes has his cock straining against his jeans. 

“So sexy, babe,” he growls, nipping your collarbone and placing a questioning hand on your stomach, just beneath your shirt. “Can I?” you nod, writhing beneath him. Your shirt is quickly shed and Sebastian looks over your chest with a clear look of arousal. “You’re so perfect, I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he kisses and nips all over your chest, playfully making his way down your stomach to hear your breath hitch. He won’t use his mouth now, he feels too desperate to be inside of you, but he’s sure he’ll be using his mouth a lot in the future if he has his way, which it seems like he will. You’re completely willing beneath him, so aroused, pupils blown wide, body flushed and chest heaving lightly. “Want me?” he asks teasingly, toying with the button of your jeans. You nod helplessly. “Where?” he prompts, feeling a little drunk on the power he has over you right now. You huff softly.

“Inside… please, Sebastian, don’t tease right now,” you pout and he chuckles, finding your expression delicious, he leans up and pecks your pouty lips with a smile. 

“Sorry babe, I want to be inside you too,” he cups your cheek, kissing you deeper for a moment, which you enthusiastically reciprocate. “I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he promises deeply, popping open your jeans as he nips your bottom lip, helping you wiggle out of them, discarding them by your bed. There’s a quiet metallic thud and you both disconnect to look down at the source of the noise. “Oh shit, sorry,” he mumbles, realising your phone had been in your pocket, hurriedly reaching down to lift it and place it on the bedside table before returning to your lips. 

“Guess you were too eager,” you tease playfully and he agrees with a hum, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, his fingers tracing the edges of your underwear. He is happy to pull back and lift his arms when you start to tug at his hoodie and then the t-shirt underneath, smug when you look over his torso admiringly, eyes dark with lust.

“Like what you see?” he teases, unbuttoning his jeans, imagining himself soon between your legs.

“Yeah,” you sigh softly. “I do…” Not bothered to feel insecure, Sebastian strips his boxers with his jeans, eyes lighting up when your mouth falls open at the sight of him. “Wow…” He knows he’s well-endowed, but is flattered by your reaction, being even more sure now that he can show you a very good time. You lift your hips as he tugs down your underwear, eyes glued on his rock-hard twitching length. You’re incredibly flattered by how aroused he seems as he looks you over.

“So stunning, can’t wait to bury my cock in you,” he purrs, massaging your inner thighs. From the corner of his eye, he notices your phone lighting up but tries his best to ignore it. There were more important things on his mind. He smirks as your body reacts to his words. 

“Please,” you breathe. “I need it,” 

He doesn’t need asking twice, settling between your legs, carefully positioning himself and making sure you’re ready for him, but as you whine pleadingly, it’s harder to be cautious. Slowly, he begins to press into you, relishing the warmth of you around his cock, squeezing softly. You both throw your heads back in sync, letting out pleased sounds. You feel like the perfect fit, taking him in so perfectly like you were made for him. He glances down to make sure you’re okay, your chest heaving and little whimpers leaving your throat. 

“Are you okay babe?” he asks breathlessly, eyes darting to your phone for a moment as it lights up again. You nod and mewl, wrapping your legs around his hips to get him to move. He chokes out a groan as he finally bottoms out, twitching within you. He knew you’d be amazing, but he couldn’t anticipate this. How did you feel so good? It seemed almost inconceivable. How could anyone give this up? He braces himself, his hands on either side of your head, pecking your lips before beginning to slowly rock in and out of you. Your hands fly up to clutch his back, and he groans at the feeling, drinking in the moans you let out against his lips. “Does that feel good? Yeah?” he husks, speeding up a little as your reactions egg him on. 

“Y-yeah… oh!” you whimper, your mouth falling open as he speeds up, letting out a constant string of moans. He can hear in your voice just how good you feel and the thought arouses him impossibly more, you’re so enchanting, you drive him crazy. He raises himself a little more so he can look down at you as he thrusts in and out, watching your eyes roll back in pleasure. He grips your hips, lifting you so he can sit up and continue thrusting. The new angle makes you gasp, his name falling as a whine from your lips, which he affectionately returns, smoothing his hands over your body as he ravishes you. He can see your phone continuously lighting up on the nightstand and it’s driving him crazy. He halts for just a moment, met by a whimper of protest from you, to reach over, intending merely to turn over the phone but then noticing who is messaging you.

About ten messages from ‘Shane DON’T ANSWER’ flood onto your screen, including a missed call. Sebastian growls in anger. He remembers you mentioning how he wouldn’t leave you alone no matter how many times you’d asked and how you were considering just blocking his number at this point. You plead softly with Sebastian to continue, craning your head from your lying position to try and understand why he’d stopped moving. Several of the messages mention Sebastian himself, saying how someone had seen the two of you leaving the Saloon together, followed by several insecure accusations. Sebastian can’t help but scoff a laugh at his insolence, picking up your phone and opening it. You raise your brows under him.

“What are you doing?” you ask quietly, watching as he taps through your phone, shifting your hips to try and get that delicious friction back. Sebastian bites his lip and his eyelids flutter, you feel like heaven, and he hates himself for stopping, for depriving the both of you, but he has an idea. He opens your messages, seeing days of Shane talking to himself in your messages, switching between begging and anger. That man was so pathetic, he couldn’t understand what you’d ever seen in him.

“Don’t worry, just lie there for me, babe,” he smirks, opening the camera attached to the messaging app and scrolling to the video function. You’re shifting your hips in search of pleasure again, and it looks so sexy through the camera, watching himself disappear inside of you. He groans loudly, clicking the record button on the screen. The flash comes on in the dim light, alerting you to what’s going on, and your brows fly up. He shushes you by placing a finger to his lips, beginning to thrust into you once more. All your protests die on impact, melting into a choked moan. Sebastian watches, enraptured as he slides in and out of you through the camera, grunting and speeding up, struggling to keep the camera steady when all he wants to do is completely lose himself in you once more. He can hear the steady slap of skin on skin and a mixture of both of your moans. The thought of sending this to Shane, claiming you away from him finally, makes him feel feral, and he thrusts into you even faster and harder than before. He tilts the camera up to show your face, and though obscured by your arm thrown over your eyes, it’s clear who it is. You whine over and over, your lips parted in pleasure. “Yeah? Fuck… tell me how good it feels,” he grunts.

“So good Seb…” you whine lewdly, stretching out the words, shaky with every thrust he gives you. The fact you’ve said his name sends a powerful jolt through his body and he pounds into you harder, making you shout out in ecstasy. He was showing you pleasure you’d never felt before, you’d been a little sceptical at the start of the evening, but now you knew you were never going back, he was hitting some spot within you that had you seeing stars, a spot you hadn’t even known you had, touching it again and again, leaving you in heaven. The fact he was filming you… excited you more than it should have, you couldn’t help imagining what it might look like. 

“That’s it, babe, cum for me, yeah… show how much you love it, fuck… you look so sexy,” he husks, pounding into you relentlessly, no longer focused on the camera, staring down at you hungrily. It’ll be clear what’s happening anyway. His free hand is all over you, squeezing and caressing as he continues thrusting with all his might, feeling you tightening around him, your moans increasing in volume. “Yes… that’s it,”

“Seb!” you wail, your legs shaking violently around his hips, pleasure exploding behind your eyes, more intense than you had felt, possibly ever. The knowledge you’re being filmed only heightens the experience tenfold, tingles running up and down your body, a warm syrupy feeling settling in your lower stomach. He whispers soothing praises as you spasm around his cock, making him choke on his words occasionally, still softly thrusting into you. You gasp for breath, still moaning with each aftershock that courses through you. In this calmer moment, Sebastian fumbles with your phone, shakily typing out a caption for the vulgar clip he just captured. 

“Don’t text again, we’re busy,” he types, though a little inaccurately in his aroused haze. The message is still clear. He presses send, makes sure it’s gone to Shane and then tosses your phone aside, noticing it already beginning to blow up with messages from him. Your cheeks are burning as you look up at the cocky smile on Sebastian’s face.

“I can’t believe I just let you do that,” you giggle breathlessly as he strokes your cheek with his thumb, still giving you a moment to compose yourself, though remaining inside of you. “I’ll probably regret it in the morning,”

“Nah, babe, you looked so hot, it’s his fault for giving you up,” Sebastian assures, leaning down to peck your lips. You smile and kiss back.

“I felt hot, but still… it’s not exactly something I’m used to,”

“Me neither, but it was sexy as hell, maybe we should do it more often,” he smiles, tucking a few kisses under your jaw. 

“Oh? You think we’ll do this again?” you tease. He grins against your skin, moving back up to hover over you, beginning to ever-so-slowly thrust into you once more, making you gasp. He growls playfully. 

“Oh yes… you deserve so much more pleasure, babe, and I intend to give it to you,”

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hey you! want to get tagged in my work when it comes out? click here! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

xoxoxo

[mapofyourstars]

"There's good, too; I've felt it."

[surena-souphead]

no turning back :(.

OH AND REQUEST ARE OPEN, you can write a couple of ideas that could be sketched :DD

[rabbidrabbitt]

Seb request I did for a user on Blue Sky

He’s like a ball python

[magical-reid]

Through the Frost

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x GN!Reader (Implied Slytherin!Reader)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.1 K

Prompt #36: "Take my jacket, I don't want you catching a cold."

Summary: In the biting cold of the Scottish Highlands, you and Sebastian venture into the Forbidden Forest to collect Fanged Geraniums for a Herbology project, braving both the elements and an Acromantula encounter. Amid the adventure, Sebastian’s protective gestures and the warmth of his jacket lead to a tender moment between the two of you, culminating in a soft, unexpected kiss that changes everything.

The chill of the Scottish Highlands was biting, even in late autumn. You clutched your scarf tighter around your neck, your breath visible in the crisp air as you and Sebastian trudged through the Forbidden Forest. The trees around you creaked in the wind, their gnarled branches clawing at the sky like ancient hands.

“Remind me again why we’re out here when it’s practically freezing?” you asked, casting a wary glance at the darkening woods.

Sebastian shot you his signature grin, his amber eyes glinting with mischief. “Because you’re too stubborn to admit you’d need my help with your Herbology project. Or was it the lure of adventure you couldn’t resist?”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t respond. The truth was a mix of both—there was no denying Sebastian’s knack for getting himself into trouble, and you’d rather tag along than let him wander off into danger alone.

As you pressed on, the temperature dropped even further. The wind howled, and the light snowfall turned into a steady flurry. Your hands were practically numb despite the thick gloves, and you could feel the cold seeping into your bones.

Sebastian must have noticed, because he suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned to you. Without a word, he shrugged off his dark, woolen jacket, the Slytherin-green lining standing out against the monochrome backdrop of snow.

“Take my jacket,” he said, holding it out to you. His tone was firm, but there was a softness in his gaze. “I don’t want you catching a cold.”

Your first instinct was to protest. “Sebastian, you’ll freeze—”

“Don’t argue with me,” he interrupted, stepping closer and draping the jacket over your shoulders before you could refuse. His hands lingered for a moment, adjusting it so it fit snugly. “You’re shivering. And don’t try to act like you’re not.”

The warmth of his jacket, faintly carrying the scent of pine and something unmistakably him, was a stark contrast to the icy wind whipping around you. You pulled it tighter, feeling an unexpected flush of heat creep into your cheeks.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

Sebastian gave a nonchalant shrug, though the faint smirk tugging at his lips suggested he’d noticed your reaction. “What kind of dueling partner would I be if I let you turn into an icicle? Besides, I’ll survive. I’m tougher than I look.”

“Sure you are,” you teased, the corners of your lips curving into a smile despite the cold.

The two of you continued walking, his jacket keeping you warm and his presence comforting in the eerie quiet of the forest. Somewhere in the distance, a branch snapped, and Sebastian instinctively stepped in front of you, his wand at the ready.

It was in these moments that you were reminded of the duality of Sebastian Sallow—the charming troublemaker who always had a clever retort, and the fiercely protective friend who would do anything to keep you safe.

“Next time, though,” he said after a beat, his voice lightening again, “maybe we should pick a less hazardous way to spend our evening. Like raiding the kitchens for pumpkin pasties.”

“Only if you don’t get us caught this time,” you replied with a laugh.

“Deal,” he said, his grin returning as he looked over his shoulder at you. “Now come on. Let’s find your stupid Fanged Geranium before we both freeze to death.”

And with that, the two of you pressed deeper into the forest, the snow falling gently around you. The jacket, and the boy who had offered it, warmed you more than you cared to admit.

The Forbidden Forest grew darker as the two of you ventured further in, the snow now a thick blanket underfoot. Each step crunched loudly, the sound eerily amplified in the silence of the forest. Though the jacket Sebastian had given you kept the chill at bay, you couldn’t shake the creeping unease of the woods.

“Are you sure the Fanged Geraniums grow this deep?” you asked, glancing at the looming shadows cast by the skeletal trees.

Sebastian hesitated, his wand tip glowing faintly in the gloom. “Pretty sure.”

“Pretty sure,” you repeated flatly.

He shot you a sheepish smile. “Well, I heard Garlick mention it during class. Something about preferring the deeper, more secluded areas of the forest. Don’t worry. We’ll find it.”

You raised a skeptical eyebrow but kept walking. Sebastian’s confidence had a way of pulling you along, even when logic told you it might be a terrible idea.

A sudden rustle in the underbrush had both of you freezing in place. Your heart leapt into your throat as you instinctively gripped your wand, pointing it toward the noise.

“Did you hear that?” you whispered.

Sebastian moved closer, positioning himself slightly in front of you again. His shoulders were tense, and his eyes darted around the shadows. “Stay close,” he murmured.

The rustling grew louder, and a pair of glowing yellow eyes emerged from the darkness. Your breath hitched as a hulking Acromantula crawled into view, its mandibles clicking ominously.

Sebastian reacted immediately, raising his wand. “Confringo!”

The explosion of fire startled the spider, sending it skittering backward, but it wasn’t deterred for long. It lunged, and you barely had time to shout a spell of your own.

“Stupefy!”

The jet of red light struck its leg, slowing it but not stopping it. Sebastian grabbed your arm, pulling you behind a tree as the Acromantula recovered and began to advance again.

“Got any brilliant ideas, or should we start running?” you asked, your voice shaking slightly.

Sebastian’s smirk, even under the pressure, was maddeningly confident. “Running’s an option. But I’d hate to let it think it could beat us.”

“Of course you would,” you muttered.

He peeked out from behind the tree, his wand at the ready. “On my signal, aim for its eyes. Ready?”

You nodded, gripping your wand tightly. “Ready.”

“Now!”

The two of you burst out from cover, shouting spells in unison.

“Incendio!”

“Confringo!”

The combined spells hit their mark, engulfing the Acromantula in flames. It let out a high-pitched screech, retreating into the shadows as smoke curled around its massive frame.

Sebastian watched it disappear, his wand still raised. When the forest finally fell silent again, he exhaled and turned to you, his grin returning. “See? No problem.”

You glared at him, your heart still racing. “No problem? That thing could have eaten us!”

“But it didn’t,” he pointed out, his tone annoyingly casual. He reached out and gently tugged his jacket tighter around your shoulders. “Thanks to me, you’re still here to complain about it.”

You huffed, though the warmth of his touch and his playful smirk made it hard to stay annoyed. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet you keep following me into danger.”

Before you could retort, a faint glow caught your eye. Just a few feet away, nestled among a patch of frost-covered ferns, was a cluster of Fanged Geraniums. Their serrated leaves snapped at the air, illuminated by the soft luminescence of their buds.

“There they are,” you said, pointing.

Sebastian followed your gaze and let out a triumphant laugh. “Told you we’d find them.”

He crouched beside the plants, careful to avoid their snapping leaves, and began to harvest a few blooms. You knelt beside him, your earlier frustration fading as the two of you worked together.

As you stood up, cradling the blooms in your gloved hands, Sebastian brushed the snow off his knees and turned to you with a smile. “See? Adventure, teamwork, and no serious injuries. I’d say tonight’s a success.”

“Speak for yourself,” you said, though you couldn’t help but smile back. “I’ll probably be having nightmares about Acromantulas for a week.”

Sebastian shrugged. “Then I’ll sit with you in the Common Room until you fall asleep. You know, for moral support.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was impossible to ignore. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re welcome,” he said with a wink, falling into step beside you as the two of you made your way back toward Hogwarts.

By the time you and Sebastian emerged from the Forbidden Forest, the snow was falling thickly, transforming the grounds into a glistening winter wonderland. Hogwarts loomed in the distance, its windows glowing with warm light, promising refuge from the biting cold.

The trek back to the castle was quieter, your steps synchronized as you trudged up the hill. Sebastian’s jacket still hung around your shoulders, its warmth and his faint scent grounding you in the aftermath of your encounter with the Acromantula.

“Not bad for an evening’s work,” Sebastian said as you approached the castle doors, cradling the bundle of Fanged Geraniums you’d managed to collect. “And not a single detention. That’s got to be a record.”

“Yet,” you corrected, raising a brow. “We’re not in the clear until Professor Weasley sees us sneaking in.”

He chuckled, holding the heavy door open for you. The rush of warm air from the Entrance Hall was a welcome relief. You stepped inside, snowflakes melting instantly in the castle’s glow.

The walk back to the Slytherin Common Room was uneventful, the quiet halls amplifying the soft crackle of distant fireplaces and the murmur of students preparing for bed. When you finally reached the Common Room, the emerald flames in the hearth illuminated the green and silver decor, casting dancing shadows across the stone walls.

Sebastian flopped onto one of the plush armchairs, his usual swagger returning as he stretched out lazily. “If that’s not the most heroic flower-picking mission anyone’s ever attempted, I don’t know what is.”

“Heroic?” you echoed, placing the bundle of Geraniums on a nearby table. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here we are,” he quipped, motioning to the jacket still draped around you. “Cozy in my jacket, enjoying my company.”

You gave him a pointed look, but the corners of your lips twitched into a smile. You slid the jacket off and held it out to him. “Thank you, by the way. For this. And for everything else tonight.”

Sebastian didn’t take the jacket right away. Instead, he stood and stepped closer, his usual smirk softening into something quieter, more sincere. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said, his voice low. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

Your breath caught, the playful banter fading into an unfamiliar tension. He was close now, his amber eyes locking onto yours, and for once, he didn’t seem to have another clever remark ready.

“You’ve got snow in your hair,” he murmured, reaching up to brush a stray flake from your temple. His fingers lingered a moment too long, warm against your skin.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words never came. Instead, you felt yourself leaning in, drawn by the quiet intensity in his gaze.

Sebastian didn’t move away. If anything, he stepped closer, his hand falling to your shoulder as his other fingers lightly tilted your chin. The world seemed to shrink to just the two of you, the warmth of the Common Room forgotten in the heat of the moment.

“You’re staring,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He smiled softly, his usual confidence tempered by something gentler. “Can you blame me?”

Before you could respond, he closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was both tentative and full of unspoken feelings. It was soft and slow, a moment stolen from the chaos of your usual adventures.

When he finally pulled back, his hand still resting lightly on your shoulder, his smirk returned—but it was softer now, almost shy.

“Well,” he said, his voice a touch unsteady, “that was… unexpected.”

“Was it?” you asked, your own smile breaking through.

Sebastian chuckled, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Maybe not entirely. I’ve been meaning to do that for a while now.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest betrayed how much the admission meant to you. “Took you long enough.”

“Patience is a virtue,” he teased, reaching out to take his jacket from your hands. But before you could let it go, he slipped it back around your shoulders.

“Keep it for the night,” he said, his grin returning. “I don’t want you catching a cold.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you didn’t argue. “Goodnight, Sebastian.”

“Goodnight,” he replied, his voice softer now. As you turned to head to your dormitory, you felt his gaze lingering, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

It had been a night full of danger, snow, and sharp-toothed flowers, but as you curled up under your blankets with his jacket still draped over you, all you could think about was the warmth of his touch and the way his kiss had chased away the cold.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

In Uniform

Main Masterlist - Bucky Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, smut (thigh riding, handjobs, oral f!receiving, p in v sex), angst, light fluff, no use of y/n, pre-established relationship

Summary: Bucky brings you a surprise, and fulfills a fantasy.

Author's Note: Request from @brtodd! Do I like the American Military. No. But sometimes you gotta literally fuck them, am I right.

Word Count: 3k

He’s home early. Really early. 

Worryingly early.

The door closes in the hallway and Bucky calls your name, but the sun hasn’t even set yet. And he said this mission would take three days, but it’s only been two. 

Bucky only gets home this early when something’s wrong. When he or Sam got injured, or the mission went south, or they’re on the run from the government again, or-

“You there?” He calls your name again, and you shoot up to your feet. If something wrong, he’ll need you. “Cause if you’re not, you forgot your fucking phone again-“

“I’m in the kitchen, Buck.” He sounds fine. Not bleeding out. Not torn apart with guilt.  “And I didn’t forget my phone.”

You can hear his laugh. He’s getting closer. “You’ve done it before, doll-“

“Well, you didn’t call.” 

You should hide the second mug that you always keep out when he’s not home. Right next to your mug, empty, but serving as a placeholder. A reminder that Bucky will get home, because you left out his mug, and that’s a binding contract that he’ll need to return for.

It’s a little pathetic.

It still soothes you, and if Bucky’s ever noticed it one of the times you’d forgotten to put it away, he hasn’t said a single thing. 

“Wasn’t looking to call.” He hums, and you pretend to do the dishes. They’re clean, but it keeps your hands busy, and from grabbing him for examination at every angle. “And you have done it before.”

“Once.” You mutter. “And if you’re trying to tell me you’ve been tracking my location again, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

He laughs, his arms wrapping around your stomach, and he smells good. Like spice and old books. 

That’s a good sign. Means whatever’s wrong isn’t wrong enough for him to smell like blood and oil. 

“You said I could when I was away.” He murmurs in your ear. “Gotta make sure you’re safe.”

“I am safe. You’re here.”

“Alright, smartass-“

“And you were tracking my location, weren’t you.”

Bucky sighs in your ear, his grip tightening over your stomach. “Wanted to check you’d be home when I got back.”

He sounds okay. A little tired, but without any heavy pain dripping between his words or any guilt rolling off his words. He’s holding you in the safe, careful way as always—tight, but still careful, as if he’ll flinch and you’ll vanish right before his eyes—and when you lean back with a soft breath, he’s kissing your neck so gently. He’s probably fine. Maybe Sam just let him go early.

But something is different. Bucky kisses down your neck, and his lips feel the same as usual, but-

The stubble. It’s gone.

You whirl around—he’s never fully shaved, ever, not since you’ve met him—and your mouth falls into a gape. 

It’s not just the beard. 

He’s wearing a uniform. A military uniform, from the 40s, that you’ve seen him wear in old Captain America documentaries and faded photographs, and it fits him perfectly, and he’s even got the stupid hat on-

You feel sort of dizzy, your hands shoot up to grab him by the lapels of the jacket, Bucky catches you right before your knees give out. His eyes are wide on yours, and his arm hooked around your waist, and that’s dangerous.

“What-“ You swallow, unable to break your gaze from his face. Clean-shaven. Not quite bright-eyed—you’ve never really seen Bucky look bright eyed—but hopeful, and nervous, and looking maybe eighty years younger. “Buck-“

“You said this is a fantasy for you,” he mutters, his thumb drawing slow circles on your waist. “I, uh- I had Sam pull some strings. It’s not the original, but I think that one’s all mothballs now.”

You’re just staring at him—this is certainly dizzy, and it’s made of a lot of need that’s pooling in your gut—and Bucky clears his throat, pushing on.

“I probably shoulda warned you, if you’re not in the mood-“

“I’m in the mood.” You whisper, and Bucky blinks.

“Yeah?”

You nod, a little frantically, and Bucky’s mouth curls into a small, teasing smirk.

“You like it, doll?” His fingers reach up to hold your face, his thumb trailing over your lips.” Just how you pictured it?”

“Better,” you whisper, and Bucky’s brows raise.

“How’s that-“

“’S you.” You’re already sort of cockdrunk, and it doesn’t bode well for later, but he’s here and yours and you want to climb him. “And I- Bucky-“

You roll your hips against him in a silent plea, and he chuckles. “You need it, baby?”

You hum, and Bucky lowers down so his lips are just brushing yours.

“Think I can steal a kiss from my best girl?” He says your name, backing you up into the counter, and this is mean. You’d probably be on your knees if he wasn’t keeping you tight against his chest.

A kiss is far from all you’re going to give him. 

“C’mon, doll, tell me what you-“

Bucky grunts as your lips slam up into his, and this kiss is all hunger. You’ve kissed him soft and teasing and gentle a million times before, and you’ll do it a million times again, but right now you just need to feel him. Touch him. Taste all the coffee and mint on his lips and feel his tongue push into your mouth as he groans your name.

You move down to kiss and bite at his jaw, his head thrown back as a hand kneads at your ass, and your hand just manages to drift down to his bulge before-

“Nope.” Bucky swats you away with a hiss, the metal hand moving to grab your jaw. “What do you think you’re doin’, doll.”

“Handjob?”

His lips twitch, but his voice remains firm. Low. 

Commanding.

That’s the Sargent voice. 

Fuck.

“This isn’t about me,” he drawls your name, angling your head back a little further. “I’m gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good babydoll. But I can’t do that if I finish in your hand after five seconds, can I.”

“I think you could.” You mumble, still grinding into him. “You’ve got good recovery.”

He raises his brows, unable to fight his smile this time. “You’re mouthy tonight.”

“You left alone for too long, Barnes, that’s not my fault-“

You cut yourself off with a squeak when Bucky’s knee shoves between your thighs, right as he crashes back down into another rough, bruising kiss. He’s letting you fuck yourself on pants, groaning when your nails dig into the skin of his neck and guiding your movements when the hand on your waist.

“There you go,” Bucky mutters, nipping at your lower lip. “Makin’ such a mess, baby, and we’ve barely even started-“

“Buck- Fuck.” You throw your head back with a moan, your grinding growing frantic and uneven. “I- More-“

“I know,” Bucky chuckles, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, and you let out a high gasp. “Never gonna leave you alone again, doll. To fuckin’ pretty to ever be here, just worrying about me-“

He rips off your shirt, and you’re already too lost to care. Especially when his mouth dips to take one of your nipples in his mouth, groaning and flicking his tongue when you scratch at his back. 

“So fucking perfect.” He mutters, his hat starting to fall a little off his head, and your eyes widen.

“Bu- Bucky-“ You grab for the hat, trying to readjust it, and he draws back with a frown.

“What’s-“

“Your hat.” You mumble, and he blinks at you for only a second before his face is splitting into a wide grin, and you’re being pulled back into a deep, rough kiss.

“Bucky-“

“Don’t care about the hat.” He says against your lips. “But you’re a fuckin’ prize, doll. Still can’t believe you get to be mine.”

“Wouldn’t wanna be anyone else’s,” You sigh, and Bucky grunts.

“That’s not makin’ me any less lucky. Here.” He draws back, taking the hat off and dropping it onto your head with a wide, boyish grin. “Suits you better.”

You blink up at him, trying to adjust it so you can see, and his grin grows. 

“Can you keep the rest of the uniform on?” You ask, trying to give him your best, sweetest pout, and there’s really no need for it. 

The way Bucky’s looking at you—like you stitched the whole world together with your own two hands, just to give it to him—you’re pretty sure he’d try and grab the moon right out of the sky if you asked him to.

“I’ll keep the uniform,” he moves you back onto your own feet, leaning down until your noses are bumping. “If you wear nothing but the hat.”

Your fingers curl in his hair, your voice barely moves than a breath. “Deal.”

Bucky nods, and this kiss is barely more than a heated press of his lips to yours before he’s pulling away.

You don’t get a lot of time to be mad about it, though. Barely a whine leaves your lips before Bucky’s dropping right to his knees, ripping off your shorts, and shoving your legs apart.

The only warning you get is two fingers dragging over your pussy, pushing just slightly inside as Bucky thumbs at your clit, and raises his brows. 

“Please,” You whisper, your hand shooting to his hair, and it’s all he needs.

Bucky dives into your cunt like a man starved. His tongue circles around your clit in slow strokes before falling back down to your aching entrance, tongue fucking you as his nose keeps bumping that sensitive spot, and his groans vibrate against your pussy. His hand keeps a tight, firm grip on your hips—pinning you to the counter and keeping you from collapsing over him as your knees turn to jelly—and rub soothing circles against your skin as you moan his name, grinding down onto his face.

You try to stop yourself a few times, squirming back whenever you jerk against him, but Bucky doesn’t seem to be having it. His hands just tighten, and he shoves your right back down, leaving a light slap on your ass that makes you squeak and your thighs start to squeeze around his head. The sight alone is enough to drive your right up to the edge, but then lips shift up to press a harsh, taunting kiss to your clit, and you can see the stars building behind your eyes.

“Bucky-“ You pull at his hair, a rush of pleasure moving through you when he moans openly into your cunt. “Fuck, I- I’m so close-“

He’s gone. The words have barely left your mouth, but Bucky is moving away, wiping his mouth with a grin and running those two fingers back between your folds.

“Always so wet.” He mutters, and it sounds like it’s mostly to himself. “Taste like a fuckin’ dream, doll, you got no idea-“

“Bucky.” You moan, not quite sure what you’re begging for, and he just shakes his head. 

“Soon, babydoll. Just, here.” He rises to his feet, his fingers pressing on your lower lip. “Taste.”

You obey without a thought, and Bucky’s jaw clenches as you take him into your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue around him, all while holding his gaze.

“Hold on.” He grunts, pulling his fingers away with a pop. “Gotta get you to a bed.” 

You nod, your arms wrapping around his neck, and the hat flops a little over your eyes when he picks you up, marching you to the bedroom like a man on a mission. 

He is a man on a mission. 

One to make you go fucking insane.

Bucky drops down one the edge of the mattress, keeping you steady in his lap, and kissing you until you’re dizzy and yanking at his hair for more. He can’t just do that in the kitchen then only kiss you, you’re dripping down your own thighs, and you need him so bad it hurts, and-

Your mouth falls open with a loud moan as Bucky grabs your hips, yanks you up, then guides you down onto his cock. You’ve taken him a million times before, but it’s never not perfect, how he splits you open and makes you feel so full. Hitting deeper in you than anyone else has ever been able to, all while looking so handsome and groaning your name like it’s a prayer.

“Fuck,” he moans as you clench around him. “Feel so good, look so fuckin’ pretty-“

You start to grind down onto him, and he yanks you forward into a bruising, harsh kiss, the whole world spinning as it all just narrows down to Bucky. 

“That’s it, babydoll.” He grunts, his grip tightening to keep you pinned against him. “Fuck yourself on my cock, take what you want-“

“Bucky-“ You moan into his mouth, your release already starting to build back up. “Please-“

He lands another soft slap on your ass, and you squeak. “Wrong name, sweetheart, try again-“

“James.” 

“Good girl.” He grunts, moving his thumb to circle around your clit, and your movements speed up. “Shit, doll-“

You only whine, entirely lost in the feeling of him everywhere—his mouth sucking over your tits, his cock deep in your pussy, his thumb starting to tap at your clit until you’re worked into a borderline frenzy—and you shove ay Bucky’s chest pushing him down until he’s flat on his back. The new angle presses him deeper, and you can look down at him under the rim of the hat and see him staring up at you like you’re a work of art. Riding his cock with your hands flat on his chest, letting the lewd sounds fill the room and mixing them with more moans of his name-

“Jesus,” He moans, his head throwing back. “Wish you could see yourself, doll, you’re- Fuck-“

“So good, James.” Your voice is almost a slur. You don’t really care. “You’re so big, feels so good-“

“I know, baby, but you gotta slow down or, goddammit-“

You clench around him, his hips rut up and slam into your cervix, and it flips a switch. Bucky grabs you, flipping you over like you’re made of nothing, and you blink up at him with cockdrunk, dazed eyes. 

“Greedy, doll.” He grunts, pulling almost entirely out before slamming back in. “You’re gonna take what I give you, right?”

You nod, grabbing weakly at his uniform. “James, move- I- Please-“

“Always beg so sweet.” He mutters, his pace picking up slightly. “Could die a happy man in you, baby. Never- Fuck-“

Bucky ruts into you, and he falls back down for a rough, hot and messy kiss, and then he’s fucking you. Deeply, properly fucking you, groaning down your throat and keeping you trapped between his arms and the mattress. The room fills with only the sound of him hissing your name when you flutter around him and scratch at his neck, the sight of him—still fully clothed and looking a little like a feral animal—making you lose your fucking mind, and you can’t remember any word that’s not James, but he still understands.

You’re falling over the edge. And you want him to go with you.

His movement grow sloppy, your hand drifting between your bodies to rub at your clit, and he yanks it away. Pins it over your head and replaces it with his metal hand, the cool vibranium sending a little bolt of electrically through your body, and then he starts to rub-

Your eyes roll back in your head as you scream his name, your back arching off the bed as Bucky doesn’t stop, but rather picks up the pace until you’re squeezing around him and wiggling below him, and he slams home with a deep, growling noise that rushes through your body. 

You cum one more time as Bucky twitches inside you, his brow dropping to press to yours.

“Did so good, babydoll,” he mutters, and you only hum in a happy, fucked out noise. “Wanna stay here, feel you a little more-“

You cut him off with a deep, gentle kiss, and he gets it. You always want him to stay with you. These sheets needed to be changed later anyway. 

You’re not sure how long you just lay there, Bucky’s warmth folded over you better than any blanket, his cock still pressing against your thigh even after he pulls out with a grunt. You play with his hair, and he leaves the occasional kiss on your shoulder, the silence soft, and perfect, and the easiest thing in the world. 

“What would have done after this?” You break the silence with a soft voice, and Bucky twists his head to meet your gaze. “If this was the 40s, and this,” you trace your fingers over the collar of his uniform. “Was real.”

He shrugs, his face moving back into that real, bright grin that only you ever really get to see. “I think I woulda needed to marry you.”

You give him a flat look. “Because you fucked me raw.”

“Nah,” he squeezes your ribs, and you squeak, wiggling below him. “Cause I love you, and you’re the best thing I’ve ever damn seen.”

You flush, but still roll your eyes. “Kiss ass.”

“Need to be, if I wanna keep a girl like you.” Bucky leans up, ghost a soft kiss over your lips. “And I’m serious, doll. You’re it. I don’t just wear this thing for anyone.”

You grab his collar, dragging him back into a longer, slower kiss. “Glad I’m special,” you hum, and he chuckles.

“Something like that, yeah.”

“What would you call it-“

“Perfect.”

You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck. “All right, Buck.”

“I mean it,” He mutters, leaning back enough to meet your eyes. “You’re never gettin’ rid of me.”

“Good.” You smile up at him. “I wouldn't ever want to."

End Note: My personal mission, bring the light back into my man's eyes. Sometimes that's via fluff. Also via just the nastiest smut.

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[boiledprawn99]

seb in the metallica shirt (either version)

GET HIM A CUSTOM-MADE METALLICA SHIRT NEOOWWWWW!!!!!!!!

tommie looted some ppls personal lockers and found it and adjusted it to fit sebastian ^_^!!

[crispyanonart]

university au for @nutellix-eldarya - obviously Tumblr had to eat the ask :') sorry

Thank you for the fun ask 🖤 SO: I think we can all agree that Seb would be a computer science major, and for Sam too it would easily be Performing Arts/Musical Academy (and you know the dude had to fight for his life with Jodie to defend his choice lol). About Abby, I think she would also be in Performing Arts, but Theater instead of Music (I don't think she's as devoted specifically to music as Sam is). Alternatively she could study Geology! And not just for the meme, I think she would genuinely enjoy fieldwork trips // Anyway here's them after class in their cool little fits ✨