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whizzing-fizzbee · 2 months ago

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Just Once | Part II

Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit/MDNI (smut, language); all characters are 18+ Words: ~6,400 Tags: friends with benefits, friends to lovers, mutual pining, smut, sexual exploration

⬅️ Read Part I

Notes: I'm alive! I am so, so sorry it took me so long to write this! Work has been kicking my ass lately, but I deeply appreciate everyone who has read this -- it's been a blast to write!

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

Sleep was futile. You tossed and turned for hours, but the more you squeezed your eyes shut, the more you found yourself clamping your thighs together in quiet agony. The thoughts of what Sebastian had done to you – done for you – replayed on a loop until your core ached for more.

You buried your face in your pillow with half the mind to smother yourself. Except you weren’t seeking death. If anything, you felt like you’d been enlightened to a new reason worth living. Perhaps most people would deem that silly and dramatic, but they hadn’t felt what you had.

You swallowed, your forehead hot and hair plastered to your face as you thought about Sebastian – the way his fingers pressed patterns of pulsing pleasure into your flesh; the way his calm eyes met yours in the mirror’s reflection with quiet determination; the way his attention remained entirely on you.

Your crush on your best friend had always been anything but that. You merely told yourself it was a meaningless flame that would surely falter the moment you left Hogwarts and met new men full of worldly experience. But in truth, you’d been fatally in love with Sebastian Sallow since you were fifteen. And now that he’d grabbed you by the hand and dragged you to a secret alcove of ecstasy you never thought you’d explore, your ties to Sebastian were much tighter than the loose threads of mere puppy love. He’d looped an invisible noose around your neck that would surely suffocate you if he strayed too far from you now.

Simply put, you knew whatever this was you’d embarked on with Sebastian would surely land you in a cage of hopeless desperation, but you were in far too deep to flee.

By the time breakfast finally started the following morning, you practically had to sit on your own hands to keep from fidgeting.

Ominis sensed your restless behavior the moment he sat down across from you.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his tone sharp with concern.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled into your morning eggs. “Just tired.”

“Tired? Then why are you acting like you’ve had ten cups of tea? You can hardly sit still.”

“Just have a lot going on is all,” you said with a shrug. “You know, exams approaching and whatnot.”

“Since when do you care about exams?” Ominis pushed. “You’ve already got your spot secured with the Ministry Auror apprenticeship.”

“Yes, I know,” you huffed. “But it never hurts to put a little effort in.”

“Put a little effort into what?” Your head snapped up as Sebastian took the seat next to you. Your spine became rigid and you held your breath, your eyes absolutely fascinated by your breakfast plate.

“A little effort into my studies,” you answered with as much nonchalance as you could manage.

Sebastian’s eyes glinted with amusement, not that you could see them as your gaze remained cast downward. “Studying?” he laughed. “What are you concerned about studying for?”

“She said it’s making her jittery,” Ominis added. You glared daggers at him, undeterred by the fact he couldn’t see them.

“Jittery?” Sebastian repeated. “Since when does anything make you anxious?”

“Since when does my interest in schoolwork concern either of you?” you challenged.

“Everything you do concerns us,” Sebastian said. “That’s how this works.”

You prayed he didn’t see the flush that was surely sprawling from your neck to your cheeks. His casual, confident demeanor set you even more on edge. How could he be so carefree after the things he’d done to you yesterday?

Of course, for you, that was all foreign and new. But for Sebastian, you had to assume it was another standard Sunday. Maybe it hadn’t really mattered to him.

“Don’t forget about detention tonight,” Sebastian said with a mouthful of pastry. “We’re to meet Professor Weasley in the Trophy Room.”

“The Trophy Room?”

Sebastian shrugged. “Who knows, maybe she wants to reward us for being upstanding, model students.”

—

By the time you met Sebastian at the top of the staircase to the Trophy Room at 7 p.m., Professor Weasley was already waiting for you. She stood with her hands behind her back, her eyes serious as she watched you approach.

“Good evening,” she said with a neutral tone. You knew she was annoyed at you and Sebastian for behaving like degenerates, but you also knew the two of you were among her favorite students. She wouldn’t stay cross with you for long.

“Good evening, Professor,” you both chorused.

“The two of you will spend the evening polishing the trophies in each case – without magic,” Professor Weasley said, adding extra emphasis at the end of her sentence. “I surmise you’re both capable of that task?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“And I trust the two of you will resist any temptation for additional indiscretions?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Good. Now I have some matters to tend to, but I’ll check on you in a couple of hours. And please keep your voices down. Headmaster Black is currently away in London, but I trust you two will be quiet anyway.”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Good. I’ll leave you to it then.”

You watched in silence as she retreated toward the Grand Staircase. Now very aware that you and Sebastian were alone for the first time since the previous day’s activities in the Undercroft, you made a beeline toward the bucket of polish and rags Professor Weasley had left. Perhaps if you pretended to be unbothered, it would come true.

“What are you doing?” Sebastian mused. He leaned with his back to the frame of the entrance archway, his arms folded across his chest. You could feel his eyes clinging to you while you began to wonder why it was abnormally hot in the Trophy Room.

“I’m polishing trophies,” you deadpanned, still avoiding his stare.

“And why are you doing that?”

“Because I don’t want to spend another evening in detention, you prat. Now help me so we can get this done and over with.”

“I’ve got a better idea.”

“Those are famous last words,” you muttered as you began polishing a trophy inside the quidditch cabinet. You didn’t need to face Sebastian to know he was smirking at you.

“Come on,” he said. “Surely there are better things we could be doing.”

Your heart crept into your throat. You knew where this was going. You were inching toward another point of no return. And you knew you wouldn’t stop yourself.

“And what would you rather be doing?” you asked, finally turning your head to look at Sebastian.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawled. “Lots of things. Perhaps what we did yesterday?”

You tore your gaze from him, your blush surely giving you away.

“Sebastian…” you warned.

“What?” he quipped innocently.

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“How so? Or are you no longer interested in my services?”

“Your services?” you snorted. “What are you, a street harlot?”

“Depends, are you offering payment?” You hurled your rag at him and he laughed. “Okay, okay, fine,” he continued. “No payment necessary. But I still think we should take advantage of these extra hours of free time.”

“It’s not free time, Seb,” you noted. “And if Professor Weasley catches us, we’ll never see freedom again.”

“Then we won’t let her catch us,” Sebastian said simply. Before you could realize it, he was stepping toward you. You stilled, breath held deep in your lungs as he lingered in front of you.

You silently screamed at him to touch you, in any way, shape or form he wanted. Instead, you gazed at him with a pointed stare, challenging him to act. It was your only defense to keep yourself from making an absolute, utter fool of yourself.

Sebastian’s hands snaked their way around your waist to the small of your back before he leaned in. You could smell aftershave, his arms tugging you closer until your head rested against his chest. Now, you were torn between wanting to linger in the safe warmth of his embrace and the desire to wrestle him to the floor to climb on top of him.

“We don’t have to if you really don’t want to,” he murmured in your ear. “Honestly, just tell me if… if you want yesterday to be a one-time thing.”

Sebastian was wasting his breath. You didn’t need an out, nor did you need any persuading. But you weren’t going to tell him that.

“But what if we get caught?”

“We won’t get caught,” Sebastian insisted. You could feel his fingers pressing into the small of your back, and the sudden realization that he wanted you, too, hit you with stunning force.

You’d spent your entire friendship thinking your connection to Sebastian would never breach the confines of platonic; kindred spirits, maybe even friendly flirtation, but certainly never anything of a physical nature. You’d begrudgingly convinced yourself that Sebastian was blind to your sexual nature. After all, plenty of your classmates expressed desire for you, but Sebastian never seemed to sneak so much as a double-take.

But now, Sebastian’s eyes were feasting on you as if you were the first sexual being he’d ever seen.

The heat that had been slowly sprawling over your facial features now descended into your stomach, inching lower until you could feel it scalding between your thighs. You pinched them together, but the pressure only made the ache worse.

Sebastian, sensing your discomfort, lifted an eyebrow at you. “Alright?” he asked. You merely nodded in response, afraid the pitch of your voice would expose your anticipation. Sebastian moved even closer, until his body was pressing flush with yours. Your breath hitched when you felt his erection prodding your stomach.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he hummed in your ear. Goosebumps peppered the skin of your arms. The bulge pressed against your belly felt... substantial.

Sebastian slowly backed you toward the trophy case until you were pressed against the glass display. His eyes locked on yours, wild yet in control, as if he was testing the waters, reading how far you’d let him go. When you didn’t break his gaze, he leaned in to kiss you.

If you hadn’t been a goner before this, you certainly were now. Your heart rattled against your ribcage and you became spineless in Sebastian’s arms. He’d rendered you into submission and he’d barely touched you.

When Sebastian deepened the kiss, your arms tightened around his neck, shamelessly seeking more. He obliged you, his tongue finding your bottom lip and his hand tangling itself in your hair. Somewhere, beneath the blurred lines of an evolving friendship, you felt affection. Your mind raced until your head spun and your lungs burned for air. When you finally forced your lips free from Sebastian’s, he smirked at you.

“Ready for something even better than yesterday?” he mewed in your ear.

Sebastian wasn’t one to make promises he couldn’t keep. And that’s what made your current situation even more dizzying – and thrilling.

His lips met your neck with careful deliberation, pressing swift kisses while his hands roamed your waist. The cool glass of the trophy case against your back contrasted the scorching heat between your bodies, but Sebastian’s hands wandered lower, skimming the tops of your thighs beneath your skirt.

His fingertips grazed your skin until the heat between your legs was impossible to ignore. He rubbed the fabric guarding your entrance and you whimpered in desperation for more.

You thought he’d tease you, take his time with you. After all, Sebastian had always been a cheeky son-of-a-bitch, especially when it came to you.

But as he fell to his knees in front of you, you gasped when he shoved the hem of your skirt upward, pinning it against your stomach while he pinned you against the glass. He pulled your panties to the side and you couldn’t withhold a moan when his tongue met your clit.

“Fuck, Seb,” you hissed as the pressure increased. Your hands tangled in his hair, the scant remnants of your self-control keeping you from pulling too hard. Your hips rolled forward and your exhales became quick, short puffs.

You always thought you hated every girl who had the privilege to discover Sebastian in this way. But now, you silently thanked the universe for his experience and expertise.

Broken moans escaped your lips between your panting. Your eyes fluttered shut and your head tilted back against the glass, your fingertips pressing against Sebastian’s scalp. Your woozy head became a black hole of filthy thoughts and shameless greed, desperate to discover more.

Sebastian’s hand kept your skirt hem raised above his head, his forearm pinning you against the trophy case as his tongue prodded your clit.

If Professor Weasley were to return, the primal sounds echoing across the room would expose you immediately. But you weren’t thinking about Professor Weasley right now, and you sure as hell weren’t in a state of mind to consider decorum. The only thing coursing through your mind was the bliss blooming within your walls.

When you finally managed to open your eyes and tilt your head forward to look at Sebastian, you were alarmed to find him staring upward at you. Pride glimmered in his eyes and you couldn’t fault him for it, given the pitiful uncontrolled sounds spilling from your lips.

“You taste so fucking good,” Sebastian murmured against your flesh. He sucked against your clit and you unleashed a sharp gasp. You’d never experienced that before and you could feel the muscles tensing in the backs of your thighs.

“Oh god,” you moaned to encourage him. He received the message and continued, his lips pulling and tongue flicking, until your eyes began to water from the searing sensation mounting within your nerve endings. It was all new to you, and had it not felt so fucking good, you might have been concerned for yourself. Sure, Sebastian had shown you your first orgasm just the previous day, but this – this was more intense than you thought possible.

The pressure became damn near painful as you squeezed your eyes shut again, your back arching off the glass as a desperate hum vibrated from your throat. You bucked your hips forward, begging Sebastian to grant you the privilege of more pleasure.

His tongue flattened against your clit and rolled, triggering the response you’d been willing to risk everything for. You heaved a sharp wail as your cunt convulsed, forcing a current of ecstasy through your body. It nearly forced you to your knees, had Sebastian not been holding you upright. His tongue worked you through your release, pressing and prodding your surging entrance until he hummed at the taste.

You ground your hips against him one last time to prolong the moment until your body finally slackened, leaving you slumped against the trophy case without a coherent thought. Sebastian, still resting on his knees, smirked upward at you.

“How was that?” he asked.

Your brain couldn’t quite compute the words, so you merely issued a soft whimper that made Sebastian bark a smug laugh. He released your skirt hem and rose to his feet, looming over you so he could press his erection against your stomach again.

“Have I earned some repayment yet?” he rasped in your ear, one hand pressed against the glass above your head so he could lean closer. You nodded.

“Anything you want,” you whispered.

“Anything?” he asked, pulling away to gaze at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Anything.” You were sure. You trusted Sebastian enough to know he wouldn’t demand too much, but knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t be afraid to ask for what he wanted.

Sebastian studied your eyes until you felt faint. He seemed to be searching your gaze for some sort of confirmation or hint. His eyes lingered and you swallowed the urge to tell him you’d worship him to the grave if he asked.

“I want you to be mine,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. Your lungs emptied instantly. It wasn’t the request you’d been expecting.

“Wh-what?” Your vision rattled back into alert focus, your mind sharpening at his words.

“I want you to be mine,” Sebastian repeated. “Mine and only mine.”

“How… how so?”

“Just you and me. No one else.”

“For how long?”

“For as long as you’ll have me.”

You were terrified to continue staring into his eyes, convinced he'd be able to read them and learn every secret about himself you'd kept under lock and key. But you were also fearful of looking away, as if breaking eye contact would sever the moment you’d seen only in your daydreams. But you had to be sure.

“You mean as in us… being together?” you asked carefully.

“Yes.”

This was not how you’d expected your detention to turn out. You wanted to say something impressively witty and painstakingly clever, something that would prove to Sebastian this would all be worthwhile, that you were the one and only being he should ever bother with.

But all you could manage was a soft, “Okay,” though your hushed tone was a steep contrast to the screaming jubilation ringing in your skull. You wanted to fall to your knees in relief, or jump up and down in celebration. Instead, you waited for Sebastian to decide what would come next. Little did you know it would be you — again.

Sebastian didn’t say anything more. Instead, he used the soft moment to kiss you, first with gentle adoration, followed quickly by charged intensity. He pressed his body into yours, as if he were trying to prove how much he needed you. But as his kisses became more urgent, the sudden intrusion of footsteps approaching forced you apart.

You whirled toward the doorway just as Duncan Hobhouse wandered into the trophy room.

“Hobhouse,” Sebastian sighed. “What are you doing here?”

“Could ask the two of you the same question,” Duncan retorted with narrowed eyes.

“We’re serving a quick little detention,” Sebastian answered. “Meaning the Trophy Room’s closed for cleaning, so you can be on your way.”

“Detention my arse,” Duncan sneered. “The two of you were clearly having a snog.”

“Might want to get your glasses checked, Hobhouse,” Sebastian continued. “We’re merely cleaning the trophies like upstanding students committed to completing our detention and learning our moral lesson.” Even you had to bite back a snort.

“Really,” Duncan deadpanned. “And that’s why there’s a handprint on the glass above your heads? Perhaps I’ll just tell Professor Weasley that you missed a spot.”

“What are you doing here, Duncan?” you interjected with an annoyed sigh.

“I came to check on some old awards for special services to the school,” Duncan replied.

“They don’t hand out awards for being the school’s biggest bigot, if that’s what you’re aspiring toward,” you noted.

“Yeah? How about an award for being the school’s biggest slag? You’ll take top honors.”

Sebastian made a move toward Duncan, ready to throttle him with his bare hands, but you were quicker with your wand. “Petrificus totalus!”

Duncan’s limbs snapped rigid and you watched in silence as he toppled to the floor, stiff as a board. Sebastian cackled with glee.

“We ought to shag right next to him,” he said as he approached Duncan to leer downward at him.

“He’d probably like it too much,” you said, glaring daggers at the boy on the floor. You fished Duncan’s wand from his robes and secured it with your own.

“Too true,” Sebastian agreed. “Besides, you’re mine now. No one else gets to have a look.”

Your cheeks flushed as he reached for you and hooked an arm around your waist. It was a simple gesture that you hoped would become as routine as afternoon tea, but in that moment, it felt as if everything was changing in a flurry of thrill and adrenaline. Your self-control and propriety were waning.

“Come on,” you said, reaching for Sebastian’s hand. Another simple gesture that felt wild and bold to you, new and unchartered despite the unchaste actions that had just occurred in the Trophy Room.

You tossed one final look of disgust at Duncan before leading Sebastian toward the rear doorway of the Trophy Room, through the gate and up the stairs. Once you dragged him through the winding hallway and toward the next staircase, Sebastian let out a low whistle.

“Wait a minute,” he said, though he allowed you to continue guiding him up the steps. “We’re not headed where I think we are…”

You tossed him a smug glance. “You heard Professor Weasley,” you said. “Headmaster Black’s gone for the night.”

“But we can’t just…”

It was rare that you ever rendered Sebastian speechless and you were reveling in the moment. “Assuming he hasn’t changed the password – and he hasn’t in the last few years,” you said slyly.

“This is bold, even for me,” Sebastian said as you approached the stone gargoyle.

He wasn’t wrong. While you and Sebastian had no reservations when it came to bending a few rules (and maybe committing an accidental homicide), you were both typically smart enough to color within the lines. You only strayed from them when it felt necessary. And breaking into Black’s office had only been necessary that one time.

But you decided if you and Sebastian were going to take the plunge into the wild unknown of romance, you might as well make it memorable. Maybe, you thought, you’d look back at this with fondness one day. And even if you didn’t, even if you failed and you and Sebastian became a burning wreckage of destruction and debris, at least you could say the two of you were anything but boring.

“Toujours pur,” you said confidently, smiling as the enchanted gargoyle began to spin. You glanced sideways at Sebastian, who was giving you wide eyes. “Scared?” you teased.

Sebastian shook his head. “Of course not,” he answered. You could see right through him.

“We’ll just have a quick look, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Sebastian followed you up the spiral stairs until you reached Headmaster Black’s office. You watched Sebastian gaze around the office, eyes glinting with familiar mischief as he observed the surroundings. He strode toward Black’s desk, pausing to examine various trinkets and statues along the way. When he reached the desk, curiously eyeing various sheets of parchment scattered across the top, you noticed his trousers were still straining over his erection.

You subconsciously licked your bottom lip. You genuinely — honest and swear to God — hadn't planned on defiling the headmaster's office that night, but your weeks as a Hogwarts student were winding now and you figured such an opportunity wouldn't arise again. Not to mention you were desperate to seal your fate with Sebastian.

You strolled casually toward the desk, your arms folded as you studied the ceiling with faux interest. When you returned your eyes downward, you realized Sebastian’s were fixated on you.

“About that reward,” he purred as he backed you toward the desk. It seemed his hesitations had vanished.

Once the backs of your thighs met the desk’s edge, you chewed your bottom lip in anticipation. Sebastian flashed his canines.

You held your breath as he reached for the buttons of your blouse. His fingers worked methodically until your shirt fell open, exposing your bra and bare midriff. He leaned in to kiss you, his hands guiding your shirt off in the process.

The office air was cool and dim, but Sebastian’s lips seemed to sizzle against your skin as he left a trail of kisses from your lips to your neck. His hands were just as hot as they snaked toward your back to unclasp your bra. As soon as it opened, Sebastian was tossing it aside with your blouse.

You couldn’t help but avert your bashful eyes as he examined your half-nude form. You weren’t sure why you felt shy, given he’d seen you much more intimately just below in the Trophy Room, but as his hand cupped your breast, your anxiety fizzled.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he hissed as he pressed a thumb against your nipple. “Can’t wait to finally make you come on my cock.”

You whimpered in response. You’d always assumed Sebastian was bold and brash when it came to bedroom behavior, but hearing it directed at you was more arousing than anything you'd heard from other boys.

It became clear Sebastian was tired of touching your clothed form. He quickly tugged at the hem of your skirt and wrestled it from your hips, leaving you in only your panties until those also found the marble floor.

“This isn’t fair,” you protested, eyeing Sebastian’s fully-clothed frame. You felt like prey presented on a pedestal for a predator.

“And whose fault is that?” he teased as he held his arms outward. “I’m not stopping you.”

You rolled your eyes in response and made a move for the hem of his jumper, tugging it over his head in one swift motion. You stilled. Sure, you’d seen Sebastian shirtless on a few summer afternoons of swimming, but you never thought you’d have the chance to touch his bare chest. Your stare clung to his toned arms and chest, and you couldn’t help but smile at the freckles that scattered across his skin. Someday, you’d take the time to familiarize yourself with those constellations, but not now. Now, you were far too greedy for such sweet moments.

“Seb,” you whined. “I need you. I need you to show me how it feels... how you feel.”

Sebastian was overcome by a warm flood of energy. His hands snapped to your waist and he hoisted you onto the desk, your legs dangling off the ledge as he fidgeted with his belt. When it clanked open, you reached for his waistband, shoving everything to the floor.

The ache within your core blazed when his cock bobbed against your thigh. You shifted impatiently atop the desk, your cunt still wet from your antics in the Trophy Room.

You were a viper ready to sink your teeth into sustenance.

But you had to touch him, to know how his smooth length felt in your hand. You reached for him and stroked slowly, the pads of your fingers tracing over every ridge. Sebastian swore under his breath at your touch. You wished you could leave fingerprints over his flesh.

Sebastian’s own fingers found their way between your thighs and swiped across your entrance. He groaned at the feeling of your wet folds and sank two fingers inside you.

“Sebastian,” you moaned, unsure if you were relieved by his touch or annoyed he was only offering you his fingers when you were desperate for more. But when he pumped his hand, you decided you’d never doubt him again.

You rested back on your hands to support yourself, your walls clenching around Sebastian’s fingers, anxious to incite another release. By now, you were certain you’d only ever experience such a sensation with him. You didn’t want it from anyone else anyway.

When he withdrew his hand, you pouted in protest. He sucked his fingers and smirked at you, eyes shining with anticipation.

“Don’t pout, darling,” Sebastian laughed. “I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.”

He leaned over you, hands flat atop the desk on either side of your hips while he kissed you. And while you appreciated Sebastian’s tender side, you were certain you were going to spontaneously combust if he didn’t splay you out across that desk soon.

Your thighs tightened around his torso and you could feel him smirk against your lips.

“You’re insatiable, aren’t you?” he teased.

“And you’re being insufferable,” you whined.

“I’m sorry, darling,” Sebastian cooed. “Let’s make you feel good, shall we?”

Before you could agree, Sebastian was prying your knees apart and lining his cock against your entrance. You held your breath, every nerve ending on high alert for this climactic moment. He sank into you with an impressive air of self-restraint. You felt impossibly tight at first and willed your body to relax to accommodate him.

“Fucking hell, you’re tight,” he groaned.

You wanted to pause the moment, to freeze time to appreciate this monumental step in your timeline with Sebastian. It had been three years in the making; three years of tension, longing and torment. It meant something to you both.

But now wasn't the time for sappy sentiments or histrionics. Now, all you wanted was to claim Sebastian Sallow as the keeper of your entire being.

He pressed deeper until a low moan escaped your lips. It seemed to reassure him and he pulled back, his cock dragging against your stretched walls slowly. He repeated the motion until he was thrusting you gently, testing your limits until he reached the hilt. Blood rushed to your ears, ringing a loud and intrusive symphony as your pulse raced. Your cunt felt so full, you gnawed at your bottom lip.

Soon, you were resting back on your elbows as Sebastian gripped your hips. He drove inside you with a steady rhythm, hands holding you in place on the desktop.

“God, you’re so good,” Sebastian panted. When you moaned in response, his pace hastened. His hips jutted forward with more force until you were flat on your back, breasts bouncing with every movement and legs locked around Sebastian's torso. Parchment rustled beneath you and quills pricked your back, but you paid them no mind. The only sensation you could feel was the mounting pressure within your walls.

Sebastian groaned at the vision of your cunt swallowing his slick cock. He'd conjured the sight in quiet solitude, but no fantasy could replicate the squeeze of your tight heat or the submissive whimpers tumbling from your lips.

It was surely the most obscene display to ever occur within the walls of the sacred headmaster’s office; you, sprawled across the desktop, your mouth hanging open in ecstasy while Sebastian fucked you harder than you’d ever experienced.

Your hitching gasps were soon joined by the steady symphony of slapping skin when Sebastian pulled your legs together, hugging them against his own shoulder as he pounded you harder.

“That’s it,” he panted above you as your toes curled and walls squeezed at the change in angle. You were most certainly going to be sore in the morning, but you’d commit every Unforgivable Curse a hundred times over before you allowed this to stop. Not before you discovered how it felt to fall apart around Sebastian.

The crude noises echoing from your union could only be rivalved by the absolute filth spilling off your tongue. You begged Sebastian to fuck you harder, treat you rougher, all while you used the name of every spiritual power in vulgar vain. Sebastian Sallow was the only higher power you cared to worship anyway.

Sebastian gazed at you, half-lidded, with lust and love. Your moans became short wails as his cock drove upward, prodding the sensitive spot within your front wall. You could hear your body’s slick response.

“Don’t stop,” you begged. “Don’t ever stop.”

“Don’t plan to,” Sebastian panted. “You’re mine, remember?”

“Yours,” you answered, your voice a broken stutter. Your nails scraped against the top of the wood desk, your body growing more rigid as you willed it to release. You’d never been so full, and your stretched walls were strained around Sebastian’s cock, threatening to seize.

He pumped faster, his jaw clenched in concentration while you quivered and writhed beneath him. The pressure was blooming within your core, and you felt the knot inside you ready to unravel.

“Seb, I think I’m close,” you breathed. It was more of a plea than a warning.

Sebastian dropped your legs, allowing them to drape over the edge of the desk again as his hands returned to your hips. He pulled himself hard against you until he found another rhythmic pattern, his hips rolling forward as his thumb found your clit. You gasped in response to the dual sensations, your cunt constricting around Sebastian’s cock in preparation for your release.

Your chest heaved and your moans became louder as Sebastian drove inside you, his thumb swiping at your clit until you were screaming his name. He dabbed his cock upward, pressing firmly into your sweet spot.

With a shrill shriek, your back arched and your legs spasmed, your walls pulsing with your climax. You thrashed against the desktop as your cunt surged and Sebastian continued to thrust you through your grand finale. Your eyes saw spots until the quivering within your walls calmed.

But the vision triggered Sebastian’s own unraveling. He yanked your hips flush with his as he grunted and spilled inside you, his fingers pressing firm into your sides with every pulse until his knees threatened to give out.

As the office drifted back into focus, you gazed upward at the ceiling, in disbelief of what you had just done, but more stunned that you’d done it with Sebastian. But he was yours now, and the notion that your future together now held much more possibility made you positively giddy. You blinked up at him with heavy eyelids, your head still spinning in a post-orgasm haze as you watched him with adoration.

He smirked at you and extended a hand to help you from the desk. You slid to your feet and began gathering your clothing when you felt his arms latch around you from behind.

“Hold on now,” he hummed in your ear. “You’re okay, right?”

You spun to face him, the corners of your lips tugging upward in an amused smile. “Sebastian, I can barely stand upright after the way... the way my legs were shaking. How could I be anything other than okay?” you laughed. Sebastian looked satisfied with himself. Typically, you’d say something snarky, perhaps shove him away with playful banter to knock his ego down a few notches. But right now, you were too smitten, too elated to be anything but authentically, unequivocally exhilarated.

“Just checking,” Sebastian said with a shrug, one of his fingers twirling a lock of your hair. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it, but it felt entirely different. Now, it meant something.

“We should get out of here,” you finally said, your eyes scanning the office once more.

“Oh? I was starting to grow fond of the place,” Sebastian mused. “Was thinking we could spend the night in Black’s bed chamber.”

“Try explaining that one to Professor Weasley.”

“She’d probably resign on the spot.”

The two of you hurried from the office and returned to the Trophy Room, where Duncan was still on the floor. Sebastian glanced at his pocket watch and flicked his wand. “Scourgify.” The trophies and their display cases sparkled.

You moved to fetch one of the cleaning rags you’d left on the floor when Sebastian caught your arm. “Just so we’re clear,” he started, “We… you and I… Are we…”

“Not backing out on me now, are you?” you teased.

“No!” Sebastian said quickly. “I just… wanted to be sure this is all real.”

“Sebastian,” you deadpanned. “My undergarments are ruined, I’m fairly certain I have quill marks on my back, and I’m certain I won’t be able to walk come morning. So yes, this is very real.”

"But you and I... we're..." He rubbed the back of his neck and you couldn't help but smirk at his discomfort. "We're more than friends now, right?"

"Do mere friends do what we just did?"

"I mean, some do."

"Well, I happen to be a lady of honor and dignity," you said matter-of-factly, drawing a snort from Sebastian. "And I don't do those things without a little commitment."

"Believe me, I'm all yours."

"Good."

Sebastian looked delighted, but before he could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed from the corridor.

“Goodness!” Professor Weasley exclaimed as she scurried toward Duncan. “What happened?”

You and Sebastian swapped a glance. “There you are, Professor!” Sebastian exclaimed, his voice feigning urgency. “We were just about to come looking for you!”

“What have you done to Mr. Hobhouse?”

“We didn’t have a choice!” Sebastian insisted innocently. You clenched your jaw to suppress a laugh. Even after years of witnessing Sebastian’s charm and charisma, you were still impressed. “Duncan was trying to sneak through the Trophy Room. Tried to bribe us to keep quiet. Said something about sneaking into Professor Black’s office! We were going to come find you to let you know, but we didn’t want him to get away so we used Petrificus Totalus. I'm sorry, Professor!”

You prayed your face wasn’t flushed from fighting to maintain your composure. Professor Weasley’s sharp gaze shifted from Sebastian to you, and you immediately wore an expression of faux concern.

“And did Mr. Hobhouse say why he was trying to enter the headmaster’s office?” she asked.

“No, Professor,” you said, offering your own air of innocence. Though you weren’t as silver-tongued as Sebastian, you’d certainly learned a thing or two from him. “He was mumbling some nonsense about looking for a book of student names? Said something about wanting to ensure only purebloods would be admitted to Hogwarts. I’ve no idea what he was referring to.”

Professor Weasley’s eyes narrowed at the mention of the Book of Admittance. You made a mental note to explain to Sebastian later how you'd once stumbled upon it as you caught his eye and he shot you a confused frown.

“I see,” Professor Weasley said slowly. She turned to look at Duncan, who was still motionless on the floor. “That is a very serious offense, Mr. Hobhouse. You’ll be serving a month of detention, and the headmaster will be made aware of this. As for you two, you’re free to go.”

“Goodnight, Professor,” you and Sebastian said in unison, too smart to linger any longer. Sebastian winked at Duncan as you passed his lifeless form and retreated toward the staircase.

“Hope we didn’t leave any evidence in Black’s office,” Sebastian muttered quietly as you continued downward. “Hobhouse will surely try to spin his own tale once Weasley removes the body-bind spell.”

“Oh, I might have left something behind,” you said with a smirk. Sebastian turned to look at you in panicked alarm and you unleashed a flippant giggle.

“Don’t worry,” you assured him. “We’re in the clear.”

“Then what’d you leave behind?”

You flashed Sebastian a proud grin. “Duncan’s wand.”

#mdni #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hl #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy smut #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #whizzing fizzbee fanfic

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whizzing-fizzbee · 2 months ago

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I’m OBSESSED with your writings 🧎🏼‍♀️😩

Oh hi cutie! Thank you! I love and appreciate you! 💖

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whizzing-fizzbee · 2 months ago

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#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hl #hogwarts legacy memes #hogwarts legacy screenshots #wizarding world #whizzing fizzbee memes

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whizzing-fizzbee · 2 months ago

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#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy memes #hogwarts legacy screenshots #wizarding world #whizzing fizzbee memes

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whizzing-fizzbee · 2 months ago

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Aww thanks for the tag @dreamy-gal-30! I’m jealous of your date because a chill night with Seb and board games and tiramisu is definitely my vibe.

I am SCREAMING at my date because can y’all tell I’ve been obsessed with The Pitt lately? 💀 Wrong fandom for this blog but there is currently no one I would rather go on a date with than Dr. Robby because I could totally fix him. Also, CRYING at that quote because of how well it fits.

NP tagging @spookybriecheese @sloanesallow @kay9leo @jstfndmthngs @leaswhum @channiesstar

you are going on a blind date that pinterest set up for you, find out who will be the lucky one and how the evening will end 💌

on pinterest search the following topics and post the first pin that will show up in each category

fictional character. date night. gift. outfit. dessert. love quote.

tysm lyssy for the tag this is so pretty!! @bloodstainedsapphic

Npt 🏷️@moonpascal @thatdammchickennugget @obsessedwithceleste @acourtofchaos @leona-hawthorne @gibsluv @ur-local-wizard @riddlesrizzler @dearmisshoney @musingsofahufflepuff

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whizzing-fizzbee · 2 months ago

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a father's approval

Sebastian is ready to ask Sloane to marry him, but first, he must speak with the most intimidating man in the world: her father. Sebastian Sallow x F!MC (Siobhan Sloane) Tags: Established relationship, Papa Sloane is basically an Irish Ron Swanson 1.5k words [Ao3] | [Wattpad]

Summer 1894

It’s a clear day, the sun shining brightly overhead, when Sebastian disapperates to the outskirts of Nottinghamshire. He’s made this trip plenty of times over the years, visiting his girlfriend’s childhood home on weekends and during holiday breaks. It’s a place he’s come to cherish, the quiet hamlet the setting of so many precious memories he has with Sloane.

Though it’s been a while since his last visit, with Sloane in Marseille. After graduation, she’d been invited to become an apprentice by a prestigious Herbologist in France, an opportunity she couldn’t pass on, even if it meant being away from Sebastian. He’d accepted his own apprenticeship with Gringotts, training in London as a curse-breaker.

After nearly a year apart, he’s ready for her to be home.

There’s something else he’s ready for, too.

Sebastian leisurely walks up the grassy path toward the Sloane family homestead, absentmindedly plucking a few wildflowers to form a makeshift bouquet. By the time he reaches the porch steps, his chest aches with how quickly his heart beats, terrified that this trip won’t go according to plan. He leans over to inspect his warped reflection in the doorside window, fiddling with his collar and tie, making sure there aren’t too many hairs out of place before he knocks.

He doesn’t get the chance.

“Sallow.”

Sebastian meeps. Meeps.

He slowly turns around to find Mr. Sloane standing behind him, hands covered in dirt from a long day’s work in the fields, a shotgun slung over his broad shoulder. Sebastian might consider himself tall, but compared to Sloane’s father, he feels like a house elf.

“Uh…h—hello, sir,” he greets, clearing his throat of the embarrassing squeak. “Fine day.”

Mr. Sloane slowly blinks. “Siobhan isn’t here.”

“I know that,” Sebastian replies with a strained laugh. “Can’t I visit you?”

“No.”

Sebastian frowns. Sloane always says that her father doesn’t hate him, regardless of his curmudgeonly personality. That’s just the way he is, the softer, more jovial parts reserved for only his beloved daughter. While Mr. Sloane has never outwardly protested their relationship, he hasn’t exactly warmed up to the idea, either. If anything, the man tolerates Sebastian, which might be worse.

Without another word, Mr. Sloane enters his home, leaving the door open behind him in a silent invitation for Sebastian to follow. He idles in the foyer, doubting his presence is truly welcome.

“Sit,” Mr. Sloane instructs when he reenters the room, this time carrying two shallow glasses filled with amber liquid. Sebastian is confused by the offering, staring down at the drink that’s pushed into his hand. Mr. Sloane’s voice is a little firmer this time. “Sit.”

Sebastian snaps himself down onto the worn-out sofa, watching Mr. Sloane as he relaxes into the nearby armchair with a long, exhausted exhale. When the older man raises his glass to drink, Sebastian does the same, wincing when the alcohol hits the back of his throat.

“Smooth,” he coughs, tears glazing his vision.

Mr. Sloane laughs.

It startles Sebastian, the sound so foreign to him that he doesn’t know how to react. He swallows the tightness in his throat, wishing he had something less caustic to help ease his nerves.

“Out with it, Sallow,” Mr. Sloane finally speaks, studying him with steely blue eyes. “What do you want?”

“I don’t—”

“You don’t?”

“I mean—”

“You mean what?” Mr. Sloane firmly asks, with one brow arched high.

Sebastian sighs, wetting his lips as he builds up the courage to say—to ask—what he’s come here for. All the practicing he’s done that week, all the imaginary conversations he’s held with himself to prepare—it all vanishes from his mind when he meets Mr. Sloane’s gaze.

“I’d like to ask for Siobhan’s hand, for your approval, that is, for her hand—”

“Are you planning on cutting it off?”

Sebastian is confused by the interruption. “What?”

“Her hand,” Mr. Sloane clarifies. “Do you plan on cutting it off?”

“Huh?”

“What else would you need it for?”

Sebastian closes his eyes and groans. “Please, sir. You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” Mr. Sloane’s lips twitch just enough for Sebastian to realize he’s being needled.

Maybe Sloane is right, that her father doesn’t hate him. Sebastian doubts the man would tease him so ruthlessly if he weren’t at least a little fond of him. He steadies his resolve and tries again.

“I’d like to ask Slo—Siobhan—for her hand in marriage,” Sebastian says, heart racing in anticipation of Mr. Sloane’s response. “I didn’t want to—couldn’t—propose to her without your approval.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Sebastian repeats, not expecting the question. Isn’t this what he’s supposed to do? Even in the wizarding world, where the rules for courtship are far more lenient than they are in Muggle society, boys are taught to be gentlemanly. “Erm…don’t I need your permission?”

“Permission, approval,” Mr. Sloane shakes his head, but it isn’t him disagreeing. Not yet, at least. “I’ve no care for what the law says, I do not control Siobhan’s life.”

Sebastian appreciates this about Mr. Sloane, that he’s given his daughter the freedom to live her life as she wants. But he knows that she’ll never agree to marry him if she thinks it will upset her father. After everything they’ve been through, he can’t bear the thought of not spending the rest of his life with Sloane.

Mr. Sloane remains silent—a family trait—as he slowly sips his brandy until the glass is empty. “I expected you to grovel.”

“Do…you want me to grovel?” Sebastian gulps. He will, if that’s what it takes.

“Perhaps a little,” Mr. Sloane shrugs. “Siobhan is my only daughter, after all. Her mother will have words for me in the afterlife if I don’t make it somewhat difficult on you. Go on, tell me your plans.”

Despite the demand, Sebastian feels strangely hopeful.

“I uhh…” he trails, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s a spot in Hogsmeade, the wizarding village, where we spent a lot of time while attending Hogwarts. It’s where we’d…stroll.” Sebastian decides against mentioning all the times he’s kissed Sloane on late-night walks after dinner at the Three Broomsticks. “She’s fond of the wisteria trees. I’d…like to propose to her there.”

“Do you have a ring?” Mr. Sloane asks next.

“Yes,” Sebastian nods, then backtracks. “I mean, I have one picked out. The jeweler promised to hold it for me until I could pay.”

“Not that I lack the funds,” he scrambles to add. “Well, right now I…do. But I’ve accepted a contract with the Ministry of Magic, and will purchase the ring once I receive my first week’s pay.”

Mr. Sloane’s expression is unreadable, not that it is ever discernible. “Where will you live?”

“In London,” Sebastian answers, grip tightening around the glass he hasn’t dared to drink from. “I have a flat there,” he explains, omitting the fact that he still has roommates. “But I’ve told Sloane already that we can live anywhere she’d like. As long as we’re together.”

Mr. Sloane says nothing, prompting Sebastian to second-guess everything he’s said.

“I know I don’t have a lot to offer, sir,” he says, wondering if this conversation would be easier if he were of a better station in life. “But I really, truly love your daughter. And I want to spend the rest of my life loving her.”

Mr. Sloane abruptly stands, and he moves to do the same until the older man gestures for him to remain seated. He disappears from the room for several minutes, leaving Sebastian to spiral. When Mr. Sloane returns, he swaps the glass in Sebastian’s hand for something else.

A small, ornate box.

Sebastian carefully opens it to reveal a ring, the silver band intricately engraved with a Celtic lover’s knot, the center diamond surrounded by tiny, leaf-like gems. The sight renders him speechless.

“Her mother’s ring,” Mr. Sloane explains, a lingering grief in his tone. “I’ll not have you propose to Siobhan with anything else.”

Sebastian remembers Sloane speaking about it once, thinking the ring had been buried with her mother. “You kept it?”

“I knew this day would come,” the man responds, still rigid, even as he sighs. “You’ll understand one day when you have a daughter of your own.”

The blood drains from Sebastian’s brain as he blanches, doing everything he can to not think about Sloane with a rounded stomach, or with a baby at her breast—their baby. It’s only then that he realizes what Mr. Sloane is implying.

“Does this mean—”

“You’ll be married in a church, do you understand?”

Sebastian frantically nods, suddenly feeling quite jittery. “Y—yes, sir.”

“And no more of this Sloane nonsense,” he adds. “Won’t make much sense, anyway, once she’s a Sallow.”

Sebastian grins.

“Stop that,” Mr. Sloane says. “Stand up.”

Sebastian does, still somewhat terrified that he might change his mind. Mr. Sloane raises his hand, but when Sebastian reaches out to shake it, he’s pulled into a crushing embrace that he’s sure will bruise his ribs.

“Sir?” he squeaks, too nervous to hug the man in return.

“Rowan,” Mr. Sloane corrects, offering his given name. “You’re a good man, Sebastian.”

When he pulls away, Sebastian pretends not to see the sheen of tears in the man’s eyes, while fighting back his own. Mr. Sloane firmly grasps his shoulder and, for what feels like the first time, smiles. “I’ll be proud to call you son.”

Show your support! Reblogs, comments, kudos/votes are greatly appreciated. 💛✨

#love love love this

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whizzing-fizzbee · 2 months ago

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Okay hear me out, I thought of doing my own fic about this idea but I feel the world needs to hear this sooner and I’ve never done a fic so would be too long until this happens.

It’s an amortenia idea, but it’s like professor sharp has a personal vendetta that day. No one knows about the lesson plan and he’s got the pot sitting there brewing smelling all whatever it smells like. And like one by one students are trickling in questioning these strange scents and spilling their deepest darkest secrets and professor sharp is just sitting there with smug satisfaction reeling in the chaos he has created.

Some examples I thought of, someone who likes poppy complaining that it smells like she has been in the animal pen at beasts class all day (Jim from the office zoom to professor sharps face)

Ominis like asking the class hey wait is Anne here today? Coz he smells her perfume or something.

The classic mc and Sebastian smelling each other I’ll leave that idea to you.

Leander like smelling the greenhouse coz the loser has a crush on his teacher.

Someone who crushes on Gareth walking in thinking he has already exploded a potion.

And then there’s Amit smelling like books or something to do with astronomy coz that’s all he loves lol.

Please make this a reality 🥲🥲

Love your work btw 😍

Hi! So I love love LOVED this request. It was so fun to write these students trying not to spiral out during class, so thank you for this one!

Amortentia

Rating: PG (language) Words: ~2,500 Tags: 2nd person POV, multiple pairings, teen romance, secret crushes

Read below the cut.

Professor Sharp was a straight shooter. He valued hard work, self-discipline and intelligence. It showed in the way he ran his classroom. He expected students to be prompt, attentive and alert. He demanded effort and excellence. And he felt genuine satisfaction when his students succeeded – and impatience when they didn’t.

Sharp was a gruff, no-nonsense man. But every once and a while – or maybe just once a year – he couldn’t help but stir the pot… literally and figuratively speaking.

Every April, Sharp chose one day to hold a special lesson for his unsuspecting seventh-year students. Perhaps it was a bit cheeky, maybe even diabolical, depending on who you asked, but Sharp couldn’t help but bask in the controlled chaos that consumed his classroom on this particular day each year.

Today was his annual Amortentia lesson. And nothing was more entertaining than watching a group of hormonal 17- and 18-year-olds fall victim to love’s sweet scent.

Garreth Weasley was the first to enter class that day. No surprise there, Sharp thought as he watched the redhead find his usual work station. Garreth often arrived ahead of the other students to get a head start on his brews, which were often unsanctioned and illicit. Sharp knew this, but chose his battles wisely. Truth be told, he quietly appreciated Garreth’s enthusiasm for potion brewing, even when it was often accompanied by anarchy.

Garreth’s brow furrowed as he strolled into class, his nose audibly sniffing the air that wafted from the cauldron Professor Sharp had placed at the front of the classroom.

“Why in Merlin’s name does it smell like hay in here?” Garreth asked as Leander Prewett entered the class behind him.

“Hay?” Leander blanched. “What are you on about? It smells like… soil and dirigible plums.”

“Huh? It smells like hay and corn… like the Beasts classroom,” Garreth insisted. Professor Sharp blinked at the boys’ exchange.

“Oi!” came the sharp voice of Imelda Reyes as she tossed her books down at her work station. “Weasley, did you already blow up your brew? Why’s it smell like burning billywig stings?”

“Oi, I haven’t done shit!” Garreth said indignantly.

“Language, Mr. Weasley,” Professor Sharp sighed. He earned a sheepish grimace from Garreth, which drew a smirk from Imelda.

“Does it smell like the Herbology greenhouse in here?” Leander asked her. Imelda wrinkled her face at him.

“Herbology?” she repeated blankly. “Don’t tell me you’re already lusting after Professor Garlick first thing in the morning. Keep it in your pants, Prewett.”

“It smells like dirigible plums!” Leander said hotly.

“It smells like Weasley’s been concocting more of that forbidden fizzing whizzbee potion,” Imelda retorted.

They were interrupted by the arrival of Ominis Gaunt. His usual cool and calm features contorted the moment he approached, his hands feeling for the table as he found his work station.

“Was Anne here?” he asked eagerly. “Where’s Sebastian? He didn’t tell me Anne was visiting today.”

Imelda and Garreth swapped a glance. “Anne? Anne Sallow?” Imelda asked carefully.

“Yes,” Ominis replied excitedly, the glowing tip of his wand surveying the room in search of the source of the scent. “It smells like shrivelfig and dittany, like the pain management potion Anne takes. When was she here?”

“Er, she wasn’t mate,” Garreth said carefully. “It’s just been us and Professor Sharp here.”

“Ah, Sebastian, there you are!” Ominis said, ignoring the others as Sebastian Sallow approached. “When was Anne here? Why was Anne here?”

“Anne?” Sebastian repeated blankly. “Anne’s still at St. Mungo’s, Ominis. You know that. Why would she be here?”

“I can smell her,” Ominis insisted, his pale face turning pink. “She has a very distinct scent because of her potions.”

“She’s not here, Ominis,” Sebastian said seriously, his face forming a concerned scowl. “And besides, I think it smells like lavender and… is that cinnamon?”

“Cinnamon?” Ominis repeated blankly. “What in Merlin’s-”

“Good morning,” Natsai Onai said as she took the station next to Sebastian. “Why does it smell like the library in here?”

“The library?” Sebastian repeated.

“Yes, like old books,” Natsai said. The group of students shared a menagerie of confused glances when Amit Thakkar entered the room with you.

“Morning,” you said cheerily, stopping in your tracks at the familiar scent of smoke and licorice. You smiled at Sebastian, who was looking miffed about something.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, eyeing him carefully.

“Nothing,” Sebastian answered. “It’s just… Ominis thought Anne was here.”

“Anne? Here? I thought she was in-”

“London,” Sebastian finished. “Yes, she is. She’s still at St. Mungo’s for the medication trial with the alchemists.”

“Why did you think she was here, Ominis?” you asked, your stare shifting to the other third of your friendship trio.

“Because it smells like her,” Ominis said, looking exasperated. “I know it sounds mad, but it smells like her medicine in here.”

“Really?” you mused, your lips pursing to suppress a knowing smile. It was no secret to you that Ominis held a torch for Anne. You’d never mentioned it though, knowing damn well he’d be mortified if Sebastian found out.

“What’s that on your shirt?” Imelda cut in before you could tease Ominis about his secret crush. You glanced down at the front of your blouse and frowned.

“Oh, that’s just cinnamon,” you sighed as you tried to dust yourself off. “Must have spilled some on myself when I sprinkled it in my breakfast tea.”

“Cinnamon, huh?” Imelda mused. You watched in confusion as her eyes grew wide with slow, stunned realization.

“What is it?” you demanded, but Imelda shook her head as she turned to Amit.

“Oi, Thakkar,” she said. “What’s it smell like in here to you?”

“Beg your pardon?”

“What do you smell?”

“I smell grass,” Amit answered. “Grass and leather.”

Imelda glanced at the leatherbound journal Natsai always carried around.

“Imelda, what’s this about?” you sighed.

Imelda ignored you. “Professor!” she called out with her hand raised. “What’s the assignment for today?”

Professor Sharp, who had been sitting in his usual chair at the table at the front of the classroom, sat back and stretched his legs out. It was a rare expression of casual nonchalance you weren’t used to seeing from him.

He cleared his throat before his eyes scanned the room to confirm all students had arrived. “Class, gather around my table,” he instructed as he rose to his feet. You and Sebastian swapped a curious glance as you abandoned your work station to follow your classmates to the front of the room.

“Who can tell me what this is?” Professor Sharp asked as he motioned toward the large cauldron on the tabletop. It contained a bubbling brew that was a rich shade of magenta.

Your eyes darted around the room as you waited for one of your peers to answer. Imelda raised her hand and you couldn’t help but notice an alarming glint in her eye.

“That’s Amortentia,” she said matter-of-factly. A series of whispers rolled across the room.

“Correct,” Professor Sharp said. “Five points for Slytherin. And who can tell me what Amortentia does?”

You swallowed before raising your hand. “It’s a love potion,” you answered. “Or more like an obsession potion. It can’t actually create the true emotion of love, but it can create dangerous infatuation.”

“And?”

“And it’s said to smell different to everyone,” Imelda cut in smugly. “It smells like whatever they find most attractive.”

Your stomach twisted and you could hear Ominis swear under his breath next to you.

Eyes darted around the classroom as you and your classmates began to assess the inadvertent admissions many of you had made upon your arrival. You silently thanked the higher powers that you hadn't let slip what you had smelled.

“Say Imelda,” Leander mused. “Weren’t you saying it smelled like Garreth’s potions when you walked in?”

The satisfied smirk vanished from Imelda’s face. “Shut it, Prewett!” she snapped. “At least I didn’t walk in and get a hard-on for Professor Garlick.”

Sebastian snorted next to you. “Garreth and Imelda?” he muttered quietly in your ear, “Now there’s a match made in hell.”

“And what do you smell?” you asked casually, praying you didn’t seem too curious.

“Nice try,” Sebastian replied with his signature half smirk as he crossed his arms. You were afraid to know the truth anyway.

Meanwhile, Ominis was looking even paler than usual. You smiled with a blend of sympathy and amusement while your eyes darted back and forth between him and Sebastian, wondering if Sebastian would realize the object of Ominis’ attraction.

“Hey Prewett,” you teased. “What’s this about you and Professor Garlick?”

You grinned as a crimson flush crept over Leander’s ears.

“I merely find her to be a rather inspiring teacher,” he said indignantly.

“More like you want to pull those braids,” Imelda said with a snicker.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Professor Sharp’s voice cut through the chatter. “Get to brewing. Recipe is on page 493.”

Meanwhile, Ominis looked hell-bent on busying himself with his potion.

“Need some help powdering your moonstone?” you asked kindly. Ominis seemed to sense your knowing smile.

“If you don’t mind,” he sighed. You couldn’t help but notice the way he was fidgeting with his peppermint leaves.

You eyed Sebastian for a moment, watching him tease Leander some more, to ensure he wasn’t listening.

“Perhaps you should write to Anne,” you offered softly. “I know she’d love to hear from you.”

“She doesn’t need any more stress in her life,” Ominis muttered quietly.

“On the contrary, perhaps hearing from someone she cares for would help ease some of that stress,” you noted. Ominis seemed to mull your words over, but before he could respond, Imelda began pelting Leander with Ashwinder eggs.

It seems Leander had made a suggestive remark about Imelda fancying Garreth and was now facing the consequences.

At the front of the room, Professor Sharp sighed, though had anyone been paying him any attention, they might have noticed the twinkle of amusement in his eyes. Still, he had appearances to keep up and strode briskly toward the sparring students just before Imelda could grab a fistful of Leander’s hair.

He gave Imelda and Leander detention and surveyed the remainder of the room before returning to his table up front. Natsai had busied herself with her brew, leaving her oblivious to the shifty glances she was receiving from Amit, who was looking much sweatier than usual.

Sebastian, who had been enjoying the chaos with outward glee, finally settled in front of his own cauldron to begin the assignment.

“So,” you said with careful deliberation in an attempt to appear casual. “You’re really not going to reveal what you smell?”

Sebastian offered you a pointed stare. “Can’t go telling you all my secrets, can I?” You responded with a dramatic eye roll. “Besides,” Sebastian continued, “I don’t see you revealing what you smell either.”

“Sallow, I thought you said you smelled lavender and cinnamon when you walked in,” Imelda, who had been eavesdropping, offered. She flashed an innocent smile at Sebastian, though you knew Imelda well enough to be sure it was facetious.

Sebastian’s freckled cheeks were flushed. His features tightened and you began to fear for Imelda’s safety.

“I said maybe cinnamon,” Sebastian lied. “I don’t really know what I smelled.”

“And what’s that on your shirt again?” Imelda asked you. Your stomach somersaulted no less than three times.

“It’s cinnamon,” you said carefully. “I always put it in my morning tea.”

“Oh, how interesting,” Imelda drawled as she smirked at you. “And what kind of perfume do you wear?”

“I… it’s… it’s a lavender perfume my mother gave me,” you answered.

“Lavender, you say? Hey Sallow, that’s quite a coincidence,” Imelda continued. Sebastian was looking positively distraught. You wanted to crawl under the table and hide, or find a secluded place to scream. Perhaps Professor Sharp had some poison on hand for a quick and painless death.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Sebastian said simply. It was the wrong thing to say, because Imelda, when prompted, always pushed harder.

“I mean, you said you smell lavender and cinnamon in the Amortentia,” Imelda continued. “And it just so happens that your very best friend wears lavender perfume and puts cinnamon in her tea.”

“So what of it?” Sebastian snapped. You, unsure of what to make of these developments, remained quiet. What could you possibly say that wouldn't make both you and Sebastian feel like absolute and utter fools.

“Just think it’s an… interesting coincidence,” Imelda said simply before she returned to her potion.

You and Sebastian worked in excruciating silence for the remainder of the class, the scent of smoke and licorice assaulting your sense of smell as you completed your potion.

With 15 minutes remaining, Professor Sharp stalked around the classroom to observe his students’ progress. As he moved from table to table, he couldn’t help but pick up on the tension that emanated from each cluster of students.

He noticed Amit looking ill, possibly on the verge of passing out, while Natsai was locked in on her potion with alarming focus. Leander was scowling as he worked. Garreth was casting uneasy glances toward Imelda, who was still looking smug. Ominis was pretending to be hard at work, but it was clear his attention was elsewhere – like hundreds of miles south in London.

And then there was you and Sebastian, working in silence though the tension you both carried in your jaws would have been concerning to Professor Sharp had it not been so entertaining.

"Wait a minute," Sebastian said slowly as his head snapped up. His stare found Ominis and you shifted nervously from one foot to the other. "Ominis, didn't you say you smelled Anne's pain medication?" Sebastian asked sharply.

You held your breath as you watched the color drain from Ominis' face.

"Sebastian, look," Ominis started cautiously. "I'm not... I just- it's-"

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" Sebastian demanded. An uneasy hush rolled over the entire room. All eyes in the classroom were on the Slytherin boys now.

"I'm sorry," Ominis blurted out. "I didn't know how. I didn't want you to get the wrong impression."

"But if you'd said something, I wouldn't have had to put up with listening to Anne's senseless pining," Sebastian continued.

"S-senseless pining?"

"Yes, you prat," Sebastian sighed. "Anne's had a thing for you since our third year."

Your jaw dropped. Professor Sharp fought to conceal a smile.

"Oh," was all Ominis could manage. Sebastian shook his head at his friend.

"Unbelievable," he muttered. "You really thought I'd be angry with you?"

"You do have a proclivity for irrational ire," Ominis noted. You snorted over your cauldron.

"You're my oldest friend, mate," Sebastian continued. "You're the only person I'd want to end up with my sister."

"Oh."

A sudden scuffle at the back of the room stole the attention from the Slytherins. You craned your neck, your eyes widening as you realized Andrew Larson had Duncan Hobhouse in a headlock.

"Think you're going to steal my girl?" Andrew shouted at Duncan. "Coffee and biscuits? I know you smelled her." His hold on Duncan tightened, causing the smaller boy to whimper. Andrew finally released him with a shove, sending Duncan toppling to the floor. "If I ever catch you anywhere near her, I'll curse you to Marunweem."

Professor Sharp, who had rushed toward the altercation, scolded Andrew and sent him from the classroom. Duncan, who you could swear had tears in his eyes, slunk back to his seat.

“Hey Professor,” Imelda asked suddenly, her hand raised.

“Yes, Reyes?” Professor Sharp sighed.

“You didn’t tell us what you smell in the Amortentia.”

Professor Sharp blinked in an effort to suppress his shock. His eyes drifted over the classroom, and he was met by wide, curious gazes. He should’ve known his quiet, calculated scheming would try to catch up to him one day. He cleared his throat and retreated toward his office door. “And on that note, class dismissed.”

Sebastian gathered his books in record time, his eyes glued to the floor as he made a beeline for the door. But you were just as quick.

“Sebastian,” you said as you caught up to him. Your own eyes darted around, looking anywhere but at the boy beside you. “Do… do you still want to work on Confringo target practice in the Undercroft later?”

“Huh? Oh- right. Yes. Of course.”

“Okay. I’ll bring the snacks this time.”

“Alright.”

“I was thinking cauldron cakes and licorice snaps. I’ve been craving them.”

Sebastian finally turned to meet your gaze, his brow furrowed in a frown. “You hate licorice.”

“I know,” you agreed. “But I have a feeling I’ll have a hankering for it later. After all, that’s what I smelled in my Amortentia.”

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #garreth weasley #leander prewett #amit thakkar #imelda reyes #natsai onai #wizarding world #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfic #whizzing fizzbee fanfic

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whizzing-fizzbee · 2 months ago

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Whoever you are, I love you and appreciate you for reading my crackfics 🥹 I appreciate every single one of you who has ever taken the time to even skim my nonsense. This fandom is small but so lovely and fun 💖

@whizzing-fizzbee 's collection of smutty stories are top tier!!!

Let's come together and hype @whizzing-fizzbee ✨you can read their work here and on ao3 👇

https://archiveofourown.org/users/whizzingfizzbee/pseuds/whizzingfizzbee

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whizzing-fizzbee · 2 months ago

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If you’ve sent me an inbox prompt or are waiting on fic updates, I promise I’m not ignoring you! It’s been an insane work week and I also had to guest lecture a college class in addition to attending two concerts 😵‍💫 Plus, I’ve been held hostage by my latest hyperfixation (any of y’all watch The Pitt?)

This girly will definitely be writing this weekend, I swear!

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whizzing-fizzbee · 2 months ago

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#or kill you #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy memes #hogwarts legacy screenshots #hl #wizarding world #whizzing fizzbee memes

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whizzing-fizzbee · 2 months ago

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Ahhh thank you @rambling-tam! You’re top of my list lately, and your list basically matches mine, but I also love reading any work by: @bookie-bookdust @dreamy-gal-30 @sloanesallow @writingsoftarnishedsilver

(FWIW, I’m terrible at reading fics because I spend all my free time writing them, so my inbox is always open to reading recs!)

Hello fanfiction week!📚

Is there an author you don't think gets enough hype? Obsessed with a specific story, writing style, or pairing they write? Someone you're subscribed to for every update?

Come share your favorite fics and writers! 🗣️

Please be mindful and check tags/content warnings on creators pages! Good vibes and happy scrolling✌️

A loving and gentle reminder: we all know the popular ones💞 Who are the ones who deserve more hits? That you think others would love too? We want to hear about them. The unsung heroes of HL fanfiction✨

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whizzing-fizzbee · 2 months ago

Text

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy memes #hogwarts legacy screenshots #hl #wizarding world #whizzing fizzbee memes

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whizzing-fizzbee · 2 months ago

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I can hear this picture.

*le gasp*

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whizzing-fizzbee · 2 months ago

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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.

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