A humble follower spreading the teachings of our lord and saviour Tom Marvolo Riddle, along with his Slytherin fellows, Sebastian Sallow and Ominis Gaunt.
Welcome!
A/N: Oh my god. I am SO sorry it took this long to get to yours. Please forgive me, and I hope you'll still enjoy this.
You surprise Tom with a cat
Tom’s eyes widened at the sight that awaited him. Four tiny paws. A ball of brown fur. Large two ears. The tiny creature stared up at him, and bared its teeth as it meowed. Tom couldn’t help but jerk his head backwards
“There he is!”
The enthusiastic voice of Abraxas greeted him when the resident Dark Lord peeked his head in through the doors of the Room of Requirement. His cautious eyes flickered around the room, reminiscent of an uneasy salamander that dared to poke its head out from underneath a rock to survey his surroundings.
“Let’s get this over with,” Tom sighed as he walked towards them, completely ignoring the birthday decorations that you, Abraxas, and Canopus had spent hours putting up.
“Of course. We won’t dare take up your valuable time any more than necessary,” Canopus responded somewhat sarcastically, approaching Tom and reaching up to put the cone hat that read ‘Birthday Boy’ on top of the disgruntled man’s head, knowing full well that he detested it. You might as well say that, for Canopus, seeing Tom in this humiliating hat was the only redeeming aspect of hosting this birthday party.
“You never fail to make my day, Canopus,” Tom murmured quietly, his eyes coldly narrowing on the black-haired Slytherin. You had to admit, despite the comically small ‘Birthday Boy’ hat perched atop the Dark Lord, his seething glare was still enough to send a shiver down your spine.
“Well, it’s tradition,” Canopus shrugged with a smug smirk on his lips, a brave reaction worthy of praise from a Gryffindor. You had no idea what it was that Canopus had: courage, stupidity, or simply a warped sense of fear. But, whatever it was, you couldn’t help but pity and admire it at the same time.
“So... Presents,” Abraxas clapped his hands excitedly, contently watching as the group sat around the sofas.
“Here, Tom. Happy birthday,” Abraxas beamed at Tom as he passed the wrapped package that was clearly a book from its size and shape.
Tom did not respond and tore open the paper wrapping.
“Oh. Actually… this is quite helpful,” Tom showed the book cover to you and Canopus; the title read ‘Dictatorship 101: A Beginner's Guide to Regime Change by Khalilah D Smith’. “Thank you, Abraxas. For the thoughtful gift,” Tom even managed a slight curl of his lips.
The blond looked quite pleased with himself, turning his nose slightly up in the air with a proud smile.
“Pshhh, as if our great Tom needs any instructions on becoming a dictator,” Canopus rolled his eyes.
“I, on the other hand, got the only thing Tom needs on his destined path to greatness: Time,” Canopus added an exaggerated flourish to his hands that gestured to the box on the coffee table, ignoring the clear annoyance that flashed across Abraxas’ elegant features.
“You should know, Canopus,” Tom raised a brow as he opened the box. “Your words bring nothing but anxiety to my already troubled mind.”
You peeked in over Tom’s shoulder to find what exactly he meant by ‘time’, as Canopus dramtically worded. To your surprise, it was packets of energy drink powder.
“Ohh… nooo, Canopus…” you murmured quietly, recalling the Dark Lord’s sensitivity to caffeine. The last time he tried one cup of coffee, he stayed up for four nights in a row. “What on earth made you think this was a good idea?”
“Shush shush,” Canopus silenced your words of terror, not even giving you a glance. “Tom, remember the coffee that you had? Imagine that, but double that.”
Tom’s eyes widened in amusement as he glanced at it. “By that logic, I could conquer the wizarding world twice as fast.”
“Exactly my point!” Canopus’ eyes glimmered wildly. “You don’t trust us with a thing. And you’re right to do so. Imagine how much you could get done if you could do everything yourself.”
Tom hummed, nodding along. “You know what, Canopus? For the first time in my life, you did not disappoint.”
You groaned, rolling your eyes. “You two are just enabling his unhealthy obsession with power!” You grabbed Tom’s shoulders, and he slightly wobbled from left to right as your seething eyes captured Abraxas and Canopus. “What Tom needs is stability. Emotional support.”
The wincing was visible on Tom’s face as you said the word ‘emotional support’, but before he had any opportunity to protest, you presented him with a medium-sized box. Tom was bewildered by the way the box seemed to shake on its own. But still, carefully, he opened the box.
“Oh,” Tom seemed lost for words. “Oh. This is… rather… unexpected.”
“Unexpected? What is it-” but Canopus did not need to finish his question, as a small tabby kitten poked his head out of the box and pressed his paws against Tom’s eyes.
Tom grew silent.
“You thought giving Tom a cat was a good idea?” Canopus turned his disbelieving eyes to you. “And here you were, telling me gifting energy drinks was irresponsible.”
You scowled at your friend, not noticing the kitten that had begun climbing Tom’s uniform like it was his life mission. “Well, I, as his friend who actually know him, happen to think that an emotionally volatile person like Tom needs a support animal.”
“Emotionally volatile?” Tom repeated to himself quietly, doubting his ears over the words that came from this supposed friend of his. At that moment, Tom was trying to ignore the kitten on his shoulder, who was pressing his paws against his cheek.
You had to admit, Tom was showing a surprising level of patience towards the kitten, a bitter realisation following closely behind that, perhaps, Tom tolerated the kitten more than any of his human friends. The tabby cat began to incessantly meow by Tom’s right ear, demanding his attention.
Abraxas was watching all of this with intrigued amusement in his pale eyes. “Well… let’s just hope that the cat will survive to see adulthood.”
You found the meowing rather adorable, but it was clear that Tom’s patience was quickly wearing thin. Even for kittens, the Dark Lord had his limits, it seemed. “Look, I only speak snake,” Tom barked, turning his head to the right, speaking directly to the kitten with frustration evident in his voice. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
The kitten only responded by pressing his paws on Tom’s lips, perhaps for the first and the last time the Dark Lord was silenced. Either from rage or being overwhelmed by the kitten’s cuteness, Tom’s cheeks turned a bright red. For the sake of the kitten, you hoped it was the latter.
“Oh hey,” Canopus’ eyes widened at the kitten’s bold move. “What do you know? He might just live to see adulthood.”
Tom growled as the kitten began his climb up Mt. Tom again. “How wonderful,” he murmured darkly, his displeased eyes following the kitten’s tail that swung back and forth in front of his face as he made his way up his head. The kitten was now wrestling with the ‘Birthday Boy’ hat, fighting for his spot on top of his head.
“Not so intimidating anymore, are you Tom?” Canopus snickered as his eyes flickered
between the Dark Lord and the cat that had settled comfortably on top of his head.
Tom’s vehement glare from behind the swinging tail was quite the sight to behold. At that moment, for whatever came over its small brain, the kitten leapt off of Tom’s head and landed on Canopus’ face.
“Agh! What’s happening?!” Canopus tried to pull off the kitten while its claws dug into his face. “Get it off me!”
“Yes. Yes!” Tom’s dark chuckle echoed in the Room of Requirement, while Abraxas watched the scene in terror, his hands elegantly covering his gaping mouth.
You could confidently say, that for the rest of your life, you would never forget the cheerful eyes of Tom when he turned to you and said, “You were right, dear. Emotional support was exactly what I needed.”
A/N: Ended up writing as a sequel of sorts to 𝒟𝒶𝓇𝓀 ℒℴ𝓇𝒹 ℴ𝓃 𝒞𝒶𝒻𝒻ℯ𝒾𝓃ℯ. Not my best writing, but hope you still enjoyed it!
Summary: Every villain has his regrets. So what is Tom Riddle's? Well, not getting to say 'fuck you' to his own father before he accidentally fell down the stairs to his death, of course. But, Abraxas says he needs closure, so you could say the trip to Little Hangleton wasn't a complete waste.
Recommended Music: I'm Sorry by Brenda Lee
This is the first time I’ve felt the need to confess.
It all started with Abraxas’ suggestion to visit my father.
I’ve asked him: why.
His answer: closure.
He believed my mental health to be somewhat, “unstable” and “unhinged.” Apparently, childhood trauma does that to you.
So, closure was the answer.
I’ve pondered about it. Why not. Why not go up to the man in the mansion and stick it into his face? Why not tell the rich man in a big mansion, “fuck you,” “I hope you’ll die in a ditch,” and “You will not be invited to my inevitable coronation.”
If this will help me become a better leader, then gladly I would accept the opportunity to cuss in my father’s face.
Apparently, that was not what Abraxas meant by closure.
But, being the open-minded leader that I am, I said why not.
The plan was to visit Little Hangleton on New Year’s Eve anyway, to assess exactly what I will be inheriting. So, why not make the trip more interesting? Why not start off the marvellous year of 1944 with a clean slate?
Needless to say, the closure has gone slightly out of hand.
I stood on the second-floor foyer, overlooking the entrance hall. Perhaps unwisely, I thought I would give my father a surprise, apparating behind him.
Now, a man lay unmoving below me. His body mangled. His eyes, wide open in the shock that ultimately led to his untimely death. The blood, pooling beneath him.
So much for a clean slate.
Abraxas appeared on the first floor, returning from the kitchen, carrying a slice of cake that he had nicked from the New Year’s celebration. His feet, along with the long shadow cast on the marble tiles, came to a halt.
“Huh,” his brows furrowed, tilting his head, still sucking on his fork. “Is a human head supposed to look like that?”
He pointed his fork at the large dent on the inion of the head.
Tom Riddle Sr. lay still, face down on the floor. Even a corpse did not have the energy to answer such a dull question.
“Shit,” I gritted my teeth. “Fuck, Abraxas. Damn!”
Abraxas’ eyes widened, the realisation finally dawning on him. The slice of cake slowly slid down the plate and fell, the splatter marking its timestamp in the silence.
“Tom…!” Abraxas’ mouth gaped and closed like a helpless fish, “When I said closure, I did not mean this!” He waved the fork over the corpse, as if to say ‘Whatever this is.’
“It. Was. An accident!” I hissed in return at his unhelpful contribution, my fingernails digging into the mahogany handrail.
“Merlin’s beard,” Abraxas ran a hand through his hair, devolving rapidly into a panic. “We’re fine. We’re fine. We merely need to get rid of evidence.”
“Just clean up after ourselves. We weren’t here long. Nobody saw us,” Abraxas began pacing about the room. “Nobody can trace this back to us.”
“Ah, shit,” Abraxas paused as his feet stepped into the crumbled mush on the floor. “The cake! They can trace my DNA, oh god, oh god oh god.”
“The what?”
“It’s a new thing, Tom,” Abraxas wiped away the sweat with his shaky hand. “Heard all about it on that crime radio I listen to.”
I paused to close my eyes, willing myself to ignore Abraxas’ pathetic wailing, taking a deep breath. If my brilliance had served me thus far, it was going to serve me now.
“Calm down, Abraxas,” I opened my eyes again, and let out a shaky breath as I began to descend the stairs.
Abraxas turned his teary, desperate eyes to me, hoping that his leader had some incredible plan.
“Look at this,” stopping next to Abraxas, I languidly gestured to the crime scene. “It merely looks like he fell, does it not?”
For the first time in this dreadfully long night, a glimmer of hope and conviction appeared in Abraxas’ eyes.
“You’re right. He did fall,” he nodded fervently, as if attempting to convince himself. “An unfortunate accident.”
“That befell on an unbalanced man,” I reassuringly patted the back of Abraxas with a smirk, ending his sentence, “Now, let us calm down, and enjoy the serenity before we begin rifling through their possessions.”
I sauntered to the stairs, and sitting down on it, took out a flask for a swing. Still shaking, but now considerably less so, Abraxas followed.
Abraxas nodded his thanks as he took the flask that I offered, taking a swing as well. The alcohol seemed to do wonders, as it was always the case for Abraxas, as his breathing evened out and the confidence returned to his blue eyes.
“You know,” Abraxas began, returning the flask to me. “It is impeccable timing, if you think about it.”
I raised my brows at him, urging the blond to continue.
“It is your birthday. And the old man died, giving you everything in this room,” his gaze wandered around the room, to the antique armours guarding the front doors, the expensive Chinese vases, to the crystal chandelier above them. “Shit, you might be as rich as me, now.”
“Hm, true,” I pondered, my eyes also trailing the many valuables in the room. The word ‘closure’ came to my mind. Yes, I suppose, counting these as an apology gift and my birthday gift, I could find it in myself to forgive my father. Maybe.
My eyes landed on the man’s face, still slumped down on the floor a few feet from us. Tom Riddle Sr. was extremely handsome. Deadly handsome, even.
Too soon, perhaps.
I raised a flask towards the body that eerily resembled me. “Thank you, father, for the gifts!”
“And the cake!” Abraxas joined in with a smile.
I smiled against the flask as I took another swing, revelling in the immediate warmth that spread through my core. “You know,” I murmured, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically sentimental all of a sudden. “I’m glad you’re here, with me. On this memorable night.”
Abraxas turned to me with a genuine smile that came more easily to his lips than mine. “Always happy to help, Tom.”
Abraxas fell silent, however, when there was a groan from the corpse. My eyes widened, as my father groaned, and he raised his head, his eyes fluttering open. We froze as our eyes met. Nothing has terrified me more than that moment, when my father’s irises captured us, his son and a stranger, on his stairs, eating his cake, celebrating his death.
“Avada Kedavra!”
My wand had reacted sooner than I’d had the time to think.
The head dropped again with a heavy thud.
“TOM!”
Abraxas’ shriek pierced my right ear, and I winced.
“Why?! WHY did you do that?!” Abraxas was wailing again, “You have to stop casting a killing curse on your reflex!”
“Shit,” I grimaced. “I panicked.”
“Yes, I’ve gathered, Tom,” Abraxas ruffled his hair, leaping to his feet to begin pacing again, his hair now beyond recognition from the neat style he usually kept. “Merlin, now they’re really going to think it’s a crime scene.”
“He saw our faces,” I murmured darkly. A weak excuse, I knew, but Abraxas’ finger-pointing was unbearable.
“Fuck, Tom!” the blond was hyperventilating now. “I cannot go to Azkaban! They will eat me alive!”
I glared up at the rattled man, still pacing back and forth in front of me, his nerves getting to me. A terrible idea crossed my mind, for a moment, whether keeping Abraxas alive was a liability. He did not do well under pressure. He’d crumble under interrogation in mere seconds.
I growled, “Well, there’s nothing we can do at the moment, but to–”
Abraxas yelped when there was a low grumble from the corpse. He turned on his heels, the fork gripped tight in his hand. I widened my eyes at the savagery of the blond, watching him straddle my father and plunge the fork into him again and again. The muggle way.
He screamed at him. Then cursed. Then stabbed some more.
Watching Abraxas go absolutely feral on the poor corpse that resembled me, I had to consider the possibility that Abraxas perhaps harboured some pent-up vehemence towards me.
“Jesus,” I watched him stand up, the sweat-matted strands of hair falling into his eyes. “Could you not? That is my father.”
“Fuck,” he let out a shaky breath, the fork slipping from his hand and rattling on the floor. His pale skin, splattered with red. “I thought he was dead! How’s he still alive?!”
“It happens,” I sighed, scratching my brows at the situation that was rapidly growing out of hand. “Corpses release gas and liquid.”
“Oh god,” Abraxas fell to his knees, as if begging for forgiveness from my father. He began sobbing, the tears streaming down his cheeks. “Oh god, my life is ruined.”
To be frank, I found the situation somewhat amusing. How the tables have turned. I bit my tongue, wanting desperately to say ‘Who panicked this time?’ Instead, I stood up with a heavy sigh, and laid a supportive hand on his shoulder.
“Yes, it does look like ‘fuck you in particular’ now, doesn’t it?”
Despite my solace, Abraxas began to sob harder. Perhaps it was the way I said it.
“Come,” I helped him up to his feet. My father’s blood painted his blond hair and pale skin. His tears and spit have now mingled with it as they trailed down his chin. I sighed, producing a handkerchief from my pocket.
“You’ve always enjoyed crime radios,” I wiped his face clean, until reconsidering the futile attempt as more tears poured. “Now you get to be a part of it.”
Abraxas howled as more tears began to pour.
“There there,” I wrapped my arms around him in a comforting embrace.
“You won’t let me go to Azkaban, will you?” his frail voice came muffled against my wool uniform.
“Of course not,” I patted his shoulder. “I’ll always be here to fix your mistakes.”
-----
A few hours later, in the wee hours of the morning, we stood in front of a roaring fire. The sky was just beginning to brighten as Abraxas rubbed his hands over the fire, trying to warm his pale hands that had gone frigid.
“I’m glad we built this fire,” he said with a relieved smile. “Fire has a soothing effect, I think.”
I hummed in agreement, blankly staring at the flames that reached for the sky before me. There was a hint of nervousness in the voice that Abraxas was desperately trying to quell. I chose to ignore it.
“Say, do you know if they wanted cremation?” another nervous whimper from Abraxas.
I took one last drawl of the cigarette before tossing it into the fire. “Now, how the fuck would I know that, Abraxas.”
Abraxas merely hummed and nodded, numbly staring at the three bodies that had grown unrecognisable. The grandmother and the grandfather had to go as well. Loose ends and all that. They’ve lived a good long life anyway.
“You know, I don’t think I’ll ever be the same,” Abraxas’ voice was dead and despondent as he accepted a cigarette from me. “That image of you, underneath me, as I plunged the fork into it… It’s changed something within me.”
I knitted my brows at his wording. “You mean… my father,” I raised a suspicious brow at my oldest friend as I corrected him. “You felt the urge to kill my father.”
“Hm, what?” Abraxas had borrowed the light from the roaring fire in front of him, his gaunt features light ablaze with orange contemplation. “Yes, of course.”
I fell into an anxious silence, the image of Abraxas straddling someone that resembled me, too similar for my comfort. The animalistic sheer will that burned in his eyes – no thinking, no reasoning, all his focus on simply doing – as he poked holes into my father. The image shall haunt me for the rest of my days.
I cleared my throat, and took a step away from the blond. Suffice it to say that the night had changed something inside me as well.
“Well, father,” I tightened my tie as a respectful gesture that seemed appropriate for the sobering moment. “Grandmother, grandfather.”
Abraxas tossed the cigarette, crushing it underneath his black leather shoes, taking his hat off.
“Wish I got to talk with you a bit more,” I cleared my throat again, not having had much experience with eulogy, despite deaths that seemed to follow me wherever I went. “Maybe discuss my inheritance. Alas, it is what it is.”
I looked down at the bouquet of flowers, gripped tightly in my hands. “Abraxas and I gathered a little something for you. Don’t know what kind you liked, but – there are some dandelions in here.”
I furrowed my brows, angling the plants in an attempt to name them. “Some… grass. Well, I hope you’ll like them.”
I tossed the bouquet on top of the fire, watching the flowers shrivel as the flames licked them hungrily.
“Closure,” Abraxas leaned over to me and whispered, giving me an encouraging wink.
I nodded and took a deep breath. My eyes surveyed the first hint of light behind the roaring hills at the approaching dawn. I bit my lips in deep contemplation, trying to put a label on what I was feeling.
“You were a shit father… father,” I continued, blinking away the tears that were beginning to pool in my eyes. “I wish I got to tell you that in person. I admit things could have gone better.”
“But,” I sniffed, looking up at the chalk-white sky to dry my eyes. “Rest assured, your assets will be put to good use. I’ll promise you that.”
My eyes landed on Abraxas, who had given me a thumbs-up. I nodded in appreciation of his support.
I sighed, growing restless at the idea that Abraxas and I still had to bleach the entire place. “Goodbye, father. And fuck you.”
I knew I did well by the congratulatory pat on my shoulder. I turned my eyes as the first ray of sunshine hit my cheekbones. The clouds. The birds chirping by. It was strangely serene, even idyllic, betraying the violent night that we just shared.
But, I found myself smiling as the strands of my hair in the breeze tickled my cheeks. I felt it. Abraxas was right. My mind was finally at peace.
Reflecting the serenity of our environment. Save for the burning corpses.
I knew it in my heart. That was to be the last time I killed a man.
A single tear rolled down my cheek, as I clasped the blond’s hand on my shoulder.
A fresh new start, I felt it in my core.
A/N: Written for Quidditch writing competition a few months ago! I am sorry that I haven't been writing/uploading new stories recently. But the new ones are coming!
Come study with Sebastian Sallow, the best study partner you could ask for.He will ask you to take breaks, give words of encouragement, enga
Come study/work with Sebastian Sallow in the Library!
Upon popular demand, here's another one!
This flirty Sebastian will...
-ask you to take breaks
-give words of encouragement
-engage in chatter about Ominis
-ask you out to Hogsmeade
-flirt with you
-get jealous about you going out with Ominis
So I've been studying to this for the past month, slowly adjusting the audio files, ambience... And I think it's ready!
Sweet Ominis will...
ask you to take a break at 50 minutes.
give words of encouragement
engage in chatter about Sebastian
eat snacks with you
tell you about his potion assignment
subtly ask you out to Hogsmeade
fall asleep in front of you
The timestamp for all his lines is in the youtube video description. Hope you guys enjoy! (This is my first time with AI voice and video editing, so any feedback is welcome!)
Would you care to share with us what you consider to be the most embarrassing episode of your friend Sebastian?
Once I had the great pleasure of witnessing @ask-sebastian, drunk from fire whiskey, loudly being intimate with @ask-garreth-weasley in our dorm room... on my bed.
I was not the only one to have heard them, and certainly others would have seen them. It still brings me great amusement.
In my defence, all the beds look the same when you have enough fire whisky in your veins, but I did apologise for the confusion and the poorly executed silencing charms. I feel I deserve at least a bit of credit for that.
But the way Weasley blushed when you walked in on us? Absolutely delectable. I feel I ought to thank you for that lovely core memory.
Summary: Sebastian and Ominis find out you're just as bad as them when they find you in their room, using their things to pleasure yourself. The question is, how will they put you in your place?
CW: NSFW. Shaming. Grinding. Light asphyxiation. Characters aged up. Ominis teaching MC about Sebastian's likes.
A sequel to
-> Pt. 1 𝓣𝔀𝓸 𝓢𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓚𝓷𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓻𝓼
→ Pt. 2 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓐𝓹𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓰𝔂 𝓖𝓲𝓯𝓽
Photos aren’t mine.
“Un. Be. Lievable,” Sebastian tutted.
“Shameless, really,” Ominis agreed next to him. “Is that… my nightwear?” a proud smirk flickered at the corner of the blond’s lips.
Indeed, as if to respond to his question, you moaned into the soft silk fabric you held between your teeth.
“Why yours?” Sebastian heard the sharpness of a wounded ego in his own voice.
Ominis shrugged, never taking his eyes off the slightly ajar door, his faithful wand blinking red next to him. “I smell nicer,” he murmured.
“No, you do not–!”
“Hush, Sebastian – we both know you smell like burnt inferi.”
He grumbled a curse under his breath before shifting his attention back to you. You looked heavenly, your thighs straddling his pillow as your hips rolled back and forth against it. Strands of hair falling over your face haphazardly, your desperate eyes begging for a release.
“Do you think they come here every week?” Sebastian heard his distant voice the question that came to his mind, his eyes still captivated by the sight of you.
Ominis hummed. “They do know our class schedule. Who knows how long they’ve been doing this.”
Ominis let out a heavy sigh. Sebastian knew that sigh. A quick glance revealed his pale cheeks flushed red, his hand itching and resisting to reach over to his own growing arousal.
Their pace quickened as they pressed Ominis’ night shirt harder against their airway. Their moans began spilling over, the pitch rising in a gradual crescendo at the coming release. They shut their eyes tight.
Sebastian chose this moment to open the door with a bang.
“Now who has the moral high ground now!?”
“Oh, sorry mate,” Sebastian continued, helping up the friend who had fallen face forward at the unexpected opening of the door.
“What are you two doing here?!”
Sebastian relished in the panic that crossed their eyes as they shot up from his bed, fixing their uniform as best as they could. The strands of hair blew out of their face as they let out an irritated huff at their interrupted climax. Their cheeks had grown flustered, adoringly.
“No, that’s our question,” he smirked at the king cornered on the chessboard. “What are you doing, in our room, during our Advanced Charms class, with Ominis’ nightshirt and my pillow?”
The silk fabric flowed in the air, disappearing behind their back at the mention of it: a futile attempt to hide the evidence.
“What did they call us last time, Ominis?” Sebastian contemplated dramatically as he began pacing about the room. “Men of questionable values… Swines, was it?”
Ominis hummed in response, a teasing smirk playing on his handsome face as well. Ominis was clearly enjoying this: both the ego boost from your preference for his scent over Sebastian's, and your panicked voice as a hare cornered by a hound. “I would argue that their depravity doesn’t compare to ours,” he replied melodiously, sounding far too happy for the moment.
“Ugh, I get it!” you hissed. “I’m no better, happy?!”
“Woah woah,” Sebastian furrowed, feigning hurt. “No need to lash out just because you didn’t get to come.”
“I wasn’t–,” you bit your lips. The heat rising from your neck up to your cheeks as if vodka had been injected directly into your veins.
You ignored the amused looks on the two at your flustered state.
You decided to take a deep breath. Enough damage to your reputation has been done. No need to exacerbate it. “I’m sorry,” you began after composing yourself, “I shouldn’t have sneaked into your room–”
“Correct,” it was Ominis this time, tilting his head as his steely scrutiny pierced through you, causing you to feel like you were laid bare to be judged by the gods themselves.
“I don’t know, Sebastian,” the blond began pacing, circling around you. He paused behind you, the breeze from his breathing hitting the nape of your neck. It caused you to shiver, yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to turn around and face him.
There was a tug at the fabric you held in your hands. You bit your tongue, and relinquished the evidence, returning the nightwear to its owner.
“I don’t hear the sincerity in their apology,” Ominis’ nebulous eyes grazed across your shoulder as he began pacing, returning to his spot close to his bed. “Is that just me?”
“I think you’re absolutely right, Ominis,” Sebastian responded, the devilish grin spreading across his cheeks as he intuited whatever the blond had planned for you. “How shall we amend that, exactly?”
You had a feeling that Ominis already had a vague idea, but he fell into deep contemplation as he narrowed his eyes; his eyes swimming back and forth between the two carpets on the floor.
There was a glint in his eyes as the idea finally came to him, the smirk spreading in anticipation. His stern eyes landed on you.
“Finish. On top of Sebastian.”
“Excuse me?”
Ominis narrowed his eyes, clearly irritated by the bewilderment –and the lack of appreciation– in your voice. “We saw you mounting Sebastian’s pillow. Now you get the real thing.”
Even Sebastian seemed taken aback by the sudden turn of events. “Ominis–”
“Hush, Sebastian,” Ominis was quick to interrupt his friend, sending an amicable smile towards him. “All you need to do is strip down to your undergarment, lay down, and look pretty.”
Sebastian’s freckled cheeks turned a deep shade of beet red, but he mechanically proceeded onto his bed.
Ominis’ omniscient eyes turned back to you, still dumbfounded and frozen on the spot.
“You wanted to come, didn’t you?” he raised a brow.
You swallowed hard, your agitated fingers drumming a quick rhythm against your thigh. You turned to Sebastian, on his back with his hands crossed underneath his head, waiting for you to decide on your move. Your eyes followed down the line of his body, to the firm abdomen visible through the oxford shirt that had gotten untucked. Involuntarily, your eyes lingered on his bulge that had grown. Wondering what he might feel like. It would certainly be the closest you’d ever been to Sebastian.
You bit your lips, having made up your mind.
Sebastian saw the determined lust in your eyes as you jogged over to his bed and hopped onto his bed. You hastily crawled over to him and straddled him.
Your core hovered above his as Sebastian stared up at you with a mixture of subdued anticipation and trepidation. You were overcome with an urgent lust you’d never felt around them before – perhaps in your dreams that involved them, but not in person. Your curious fingers traced a line from his jaw, down the jugular to his chest that peeked from underneath his shirt, drawing a shuddered breath from the boy.
“I shall guide you,” a murmur from behind you, his breath hot and tingling against your neck.
Ominis had moved onto the bed behind you. You felt his two hands snake around your waist, but all you could do was stare into Sebastian’s eyes, returning the same nervousness.
You let Ominis’ hands pull you down against Sebastian’s bulge. You felt his heat through the thin layers of fabric. It shot through your core, the excitement returning to you with the need you never realised you had.
Ominis placed a quiet kiss against your temple as he began guiding your hips, rolling them back and forth against Sebastian.
Sebastian’s head dropped with a groan. You blinked, watching him bite his lips, having never elicited a sound like this out of anyone. You placed your palms against his chest, feeling the surge of power you felt over him.
“Do you feel him twitching against you?”
You nodded.
"He likes his tip being massaged," Ominis began rolling your hips faster as he guided your hand lower on his friend's torso, eliciting another deep guttural groan from the other.
“He whispers your name, you know,” the voice continued on your right, “Hidden behind the covers. Over and over.”
You were mesmerised by the sight underneath you. Sebastian’s jaw had tensed, the veins popping at his temples. His eyes glared up at you with silent hunger. His hands jerked to grasp at your hips, but hesitated at a quick glance at Ominis. It was a wise move, considering how Ominis preferred being in full control of situations like this. Instead, his hands fell measly, gripping at the bedsheets.
Ominis’ hands pushed you back and forth in a steady rhythm. The friction was beginning to get to you as well, the heat rising to your neck up to your cheeks.
“Look up,” a soft voice sounded above you. The voice did not even give you the time to react, trailing a hand up your neck and wrapping around your neck, forcing you to look up. You saw the viridian roof of Sebastian’s four-poster bed. And you saw the two ghostly orbs above you, brimming with euphoria as they took you in. They were so pretty. Eerie, almost as they studied the dishevelled state of you and Sebastian with chilling calm.
Ominis had now relinquished the hold on your hips completely. There was a small thump as Ominis pulled your head against his chest, Sebastian’s hand coming to replace Ominis’ as it pulled your hips greedily towards him.
“Now, tell him what you were picturing,” Ominis’ lips brushed against your skin in a whisper. “How do you picture us when you touch yourself?”
Your jaw dropped. “I–, well… I can’t–”
“Go on,” Ominis nudged you, digging his nose into the crook of your neck as he peppered you with kisses.
“I can’t say,” you breathed out.
“Entertain us,” a breathless voice came from underneath you. The man’s eyes were ablaze with desire and insatiable curiosity. Any hesitation he’d previously felt was long gone.
You bit your lips. “I picture you–,” your eyes flickering down in his general direction, “taking me from behind… in Charms classroom.” Your uneasy eyes wandered to Ominis’ intent gaze. “And you filling up my throat.”
You felt Sebastian twitch underneath you at your words, a stain quietly growing on his undergarment. He couldn’t hold himself any longer. His hips have involuntarily begun thrusting against you, seeking more friction and chasing that high, and all you could do was stare up at Ominis’ beautiful eyes, held in place against his chest as Sebastian continued to rock you back and forward.
The familiar feeling of the knot returned to your core. You squinted your eyes shut, Ominis’ serene smile disappearing behind your lids. Your hands clawed at the air in front of you, seeking anything to clutch onto before settling onto the hem of Sebastian’s shirt.
“You’re holding it in,” Ominis’ fingers traced a line from your forehead to your cheek, moving the matted strand of your hair out of your way. He leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on your pursed lips. It was a staggering contrast to Sebastian’s passionate needy ones.
“Let me hear you moan,” he whispered above you. “You were so eager to scream our names earlier,” he pointed out. Your core gave a jolting squeeze around the shaft at his words. An inadvertent loud moan spilt out of your pursed lips.
“Fuck,” Sebastian let out a groan through gritted teeth in response. He thrust his head into the pillow, the veins on his arms visible as his hands gripped and clawed at your hips. His pupils round as he ground you against him with an almost bestial desire.
The room echoed as the two’s panting and moans filled the musty air. Sensing your approaching climax, cool fingers wrapped around your airway. The crisp scent of birch, bergamot and oakmoss filled your lungs. The same smell as his nightwear.
You leaned into his touch, filling your airways with as much of his scent as possible. The excitement overtaking you, you began rolling your hips faster. You heard the satisfied grin from above.
“Look at me.”
You whimpered, the commanding tone sending a chill down your spine and lighting you aflame. The restricted air was clouding your mind. You tore your eyes open, being greeted by the serene, satisfied eyes of Ominis’ blues. You felt your insides pulsating, milking the empty space that was supposed to be filled by Sebastian. Your arousal had soaked through your undergarment, staining Sebastian’s and mixing with his. The air thick with the scent of their arousal.
There was a constant sting of friction, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Encouraged by Sebastian’s groans and curses, guided by his hands, you continued rolling back and forth, clinging onto the rising climax as if life depended on it. Ominis’ eyes simply took the sight of you in with endearment.
Your eyes blinked rapidly when you finally snapped, moaning loudly into Ominis’ palm. Beyond the ringing in your ears, your mind registered the grunts of Sebastian calling out your name as he came undone as well, spurting hot liquid into his undergarment.
You sat frozen for some time, your eyes swimming the ceiling as Ominis’ content smile came in and out of focus. You were distinctly aware of Sebastian’s hands that wearily wrapped around your hands, which still clutched his shirt with shaking fingers. Ominis’ hand retreated, causing you to notice the saliva that coated his palm in the process as it smeared across your lips.
“Was it better than a pillow?”
You heard the teasing smirk in his voice above the heavy breathing of Sebastian. You smiled and nodded numbly; despite your intentions to wipe your mouth, your hands remained limp in Sebastian’s.
“Next time I wanna come, I’ll come to you two,” you managed to say, your voice still raspy.
Ominis nodded, seemingly content at your fulfilled desire. His eyes shimmered in amusement, the dimples appearing on his cheeks.
“Next time you want to come, you’re asking for our permission first,” he said with the most angelic smile.
