(( note )) I sometimes feel misunderstood when I say that I miss family members I've never met â because they died or we lost touch â but in reality, what I mourn is the missed opportunities. The memories we never shared. I dedicate this to my grandpa â I hope you are proud of me, jeddi.
Maybe in another life, I would have a normal functioning family.
Maybe in another life, my grandad would watch me grow up, graduate and fall in love.
Maybe in another life, my grandma would be happy and joyous, with stars in her eyes replacing their melancholy.
Maybe in another life, my grandfather wouldn't be so bitter.
Maybe in another life, my parents wouldn't have to live through all their traumas.
Maybe in another life, my uncle would have lived to watch me born to life, cradled me in his arms and sang me lullabies.
Maybe in another life, I wouldn't have to mourn all those things I never had while listening to people talking about how amazing their families are.
Maybe in another life.
A/N: I wrote this at 3 in the morning, sorry for the over dramatisation.
the idea that every summer will be as hot if not hotter than this for the rest of my life is unbearable i need to (remembers suicide jokes are bad for my mental health) murder an oil executive
This is the blueprint of the sebinis doll I made. The hairpiece might need to be adjusted and resized according to your situation. To make it easier to see the effect, I have made a schematic diagram of the hairpiece stacking!
Sebastian is like that very flirty touchy friend (dare I say clingy) and literally drowns you in affection whenever the opportunity arises. Like: holding hands (I have photo evidence of him doing that with Ominis (it was to help him walk down the stairs but WHATEVER)) THAT MAN IS A CINNAMON ROLL, hugs, jokes, dorky one liners he pulls off whenever one's feeling down.
Everything you'd ever want in a best friend and MORE.
You know I'm a sucker for characters with layered background and cultures but please tell me when on earth did the fandom collectively agree (me included) that Theodore Nott was half italian?
in my heart of hearts, ominis would exclusively wear matching pajama sets because he's always so prim and proper >:) also idk what his hair looks like when there's no pomade in it so i had to guess lol (he probably wouldn't have a middle part now i think about it)
and sebastian would wear random band tees (i had to do a candlemass shirt cuz...i've been listening to a lot of doom metal....and seb might like it heh) and like plaid pajama pants
oh and his hair looks kinda the same (it's only slightly more messy)
and then some half ass chibis becos i got tired đ
summary :: very very soft smut of virgin Sebastian and MC reader. With plot! With feelings!
warning :: seventh year. Very soft, virgin Sebastian and reader, touching over clothes, dry humping, oral f receiving, raw, references to the angst that happened in the game, purity culture (yes, it's the 1890s), lots of love and fluffy stuff. Also there's a spider bite. Possible mistakes, I wasnât able to check over the entire thing.
note :: Iâm forever a hater of rough smut, âyou like that, you dirty slut?â uhm no, why are you calling me names!!
âSebastian, down here.â
âFound something?â
âThereâs a cave connected to her home.â
Isidora Morganach's home, or at least one of her homes. You weren't quite sure. It had plenty of notes and discoveries on her adventures travelling after graduating from Hogwarts, some keepsakes from other countries, and plenty of chests already emptied out. The home was ancient and very worse for wear, the roof had long since cave in, allowing the rain from above to patter against both you and Sebastian. You had spotted a deep cavern within the corner of her living-room. Big enough to fit the both of you.
"After you," said Sebastian, gesturing to the dark, black entrance.
You would've retorted, if you hadn't felt so seriously. It had been two years since you'd dealt with anything related to Isadora and the sudden discovery that one of her homes was merely a broomstick flight away from Hogwarts felt troubling to your intuition.
Sebastian could practically see the tension in your body when you first told him.
"I heard rumours of a home that could've belonged to Isadora nearby the castle."
âIsadora?â He choked on the food heâd served himself.
"Yes. I'm going to go and search it after dinner." Something troubling swirled in your eyes and Sebastian jumped to distract you from it.
"I'll come with you." He said.
"This might be something I'll have to do on my own, Sebastian." You stated. If there was a trial or something related to ancient magic, he wouldn't be able to do anything. Professor Fig never could. You'd be better off alone.Â
"You won't even take me as a chaperone?" Sebastian asked, grinning at you.Â
It was that grin that had him coming with you to the half rubble household, in the pouring rain, at the dead of night.
Your search was cut short when the moment you reached the end of the slope into the cave, a six legged beast jumped you. You recognised it as a hatchling, small for its kind but big enough to knock you off your feet. You attempted to reach for your wand but the large pincers found your arm, the hollow fangs sinking into your tissue. A sharp wail escaped you as the venom soaked into your muscle.
"Incendio!" The spider was thrown off of you with a quick ball of flame and Sebastian replaced it, kneeling at your side and pulling you up.
"It got me." You hissed, revealing your torn up sleeve.Â
He cursed, then took your wrist in his large hand and pushed back the fabric of your sleeve, bringing your numbing arm to his mouth. He latched on before you could quite make sense of his actions, he sucked twice against your raw skin and then spat to the floor next to him. Again, he sucked on the bite then spat out what you hoped was most of the venom, and what looked to be some of your blood, and perhaps some rainwater.
You couldnât be sure the flush falling over your face was from the venom or not, but the dizziness that followed suggested the first.
Through the haze of the sickening poison flooding your system and the feverish puffs of air you let out, you could hone in on Sebastianâs final part from your irritated skin. A thin, watery string of spit connected him to your arm before it broke and he turned to gauge the effects of the venom on your face.
âWiggenweld?â You had some faint idea he had said something else, but you werenât sure.
âMy pocket.â You huffed, eye-line peering up at the dark, rocky ceiling dripping rain.
You recalled another flush passing over you, whilst desperate hands pat over your sides, legs and chest. Soon enough, the hands found what they were looking for. After that, a vile pressed to your lips and you felt yourself return to your pained body. Your legs mustâve given out, because Sebastian held you against himself, one hand cupped around your jaw.
âIâm alright.â You croaked, his hold loosening and giving you space. Your stiff legs ached at your weight and you patted your pockets for another wiggenweld potion, but came up empty. You let out a tired groan.
âLetâs head back.â He said.Â
"But we've yet to look everywhere." You gazed around the dark and rocky cave, slithers of other spiders echoing through the darkness.
"The house won't be going anywhere, we can come back when you're well again."
Still, you shook your head. âItâs the middle of the night, weâll surely be caught by some prefect if Iâm in this state.â
âItâs worth it, weâve got to get you another potion and get you right.â
So reluctantly, you let Sebastian help you out of the cave and onto your broom, keeping a weary eye on you until you snuck back into the castle.
Sebastian muttered something about peeves when you entered, your arm around his shoulder and a light hand on your side, keeping you steady as though he was a friend helping you home after a night of drinking. You needed a brewing stand to rid you of this horrid, sickening ache and the fuzziness behind your eyes.
"What in merlin's name..." A nearby wall began to shift, swirls of a door began to form and you had never been so relieved to see the entrance to the room of requirement form for you. It felt like a dear friend coming to your aid.Â
"Inside, come on." You ushered, pulling Sebastian along. He held you closer, mumbling 'careful.' at your quickness.
Sebastian sat you down carefully on the closest thing he could, which happened to be a plush settee that you couldn't remember placing when you were last here. Perhaps the room had conjured it up just for you.
"My brewing stand, it should be over there." You blurted.
"You've really decked this place out." He muttered and behind you, you could hear the sizzling of a potion brewing. Sebastian had followed you into the room once or twice before, but not enough to be acquainted to it like you were. An uncomfortable minute passed before Sebastian handed you the potion which spread relief through your body once you drunk it.
He watched your eyes keenly for any haze or sickly glossiness. "Another?" He asked.Â
"No I'm alright." You nodded. He sighed thankfully and you smiled at his relief. âIâve never known you to be the doting type, Sebastian.â You uttered contently, placing down the empty vile.
âWell, youâve never needed doting.â He rounded the large settee and sat beside you.Â
"I never thought you had it in you to be so⌠gentle."
The word stunned Sebastian, but only for a moment. "Me? Not gentle? How could you ever come to think so low of me?" He jested, an eyebrow raised your way.
"Apologies, I don't know what could've convinced me otherwise." A lot lurked behind your retort, and although you could still see a grin on his face, Sebastian's shoulders deflated. "I'm only joking." You quickly added. "You've always had a soft side, I've been especially reaping the benefits of it in our recent time spent together."
"Well, I'd ought to start treating you well some time in our friendship." He continued, a playfulness added to his somewhat serious statement.
You hummed, although awkwardly. After fifth year, Sebastian had somewhat clung to you. Soloman was dead, Anne had left and his relationship with Ominis had never been so broken. All his time, his loyalty, his effort and his love was directed to you because, plainly, you were the only one who stuck around. You were the only one he'd give it all to, whether you were completely aware of it or not.
So when the two of you tipped around his less than stellar actions towards you, you could see the guilt wrack him. See his regret. Inwardly, Sebastian wished to scrub the memories of his slights against you from your brain. He wasn't that boy anymore. He wasn't so obsessed with finding a cure for Anne, driven by his one-track mind. No, now you had become his obsession. His motivations now revolved around you and he pursued you just as relentlessly as he pursued that cure for Anne, maybe even more so. Perhaps he is the same boy from two years ago.
You glanced at him, his eyes downcast to the marble floor. "I know you always cared for me. Just... Sometimes you had a funny way of showing it." You played with the hem of your skirt, rubbing the fabric between your index and forefinger. "You're a true friend Sebastian, don't doubt that."
"You're one to talk." He suddenly grinned, arm stretching out on the camel back of the sofa, close enough anyone else would consider Sebastian had his arm around you.
"Am I?" You smiled, less wary.
"The entire cohort is deeply in love with you. Perhaps some of the teachers too. I'm sure Professor Wesley would give just about anything to adopt you, and I've never seen Sharp so kind to someone. Truely, it's terrifying."
You shook your head, laughing. "Oh stop, there are plenty who don't like me. What about Imelda?"
"Don't be daft, she'd drop just about anything for you I'm sure." He hummed, smiling at the idea (although it made his affection towards you feel slightly less significant. Still, you were here with him, not Imelda or any other adoring fan you had. That must've counted for something). "You might consider me a charmer, but you're like an Amortentia potion given life."
"Compliments like these are precisely why I enjoy spending time with you Sebastian." You said. Sebastian chuckled lowly.
"Cheeky." He commented.
"So then, can I consider you deeply in love with me too? You did say everyone in our cohort." Daring, but you enjoyed the rush of flirting with Sebastian whenever the opportunity arose.
"Imelda, the teachers, even Ominis and yes, me."
The space between you somehow lessened, the teasing drawing your faces together. In a moment of weakness, yours eyes darted to his smiling lips. Heâd caught the glance, igniting a wild tinkle in his eyes. He knew where your thoughts lie and you could see it in the way he looked at you. He took your cheek in his hand and you retracted into nervousness, opening your mouth to say something before Sebastian leaned in to pressed a kiss to your lips.
It felt curt at first, because Sebastian broke away too soon, perhaps because he realised to gravity of his action. But you trailed after him, following his lips and giving him the desire to kiss you again. So he did.
This time, with the assurance of you kissing him back, passion bloomed.
He rested an eager hand on your side, his other still holding your face. His fingers threaded through your hair as his lips pushed into you, with longing and need. It wasnât messy, nor sloppy, just long moments of intimacy between quick breaths.
After a quick separation, Sebastian dove into you again, furthering his weight into you until you relented and laid back against the sofa, pulling him down with you whilst you kissed.
You utterly lost yourself in the swirls of emotions, drowning in the desire to just be with him, and feel him. It felt hot, light, but above all it felt natural.
Both hands now cupped your sides, pressing you into the pillows. His mouth moved to your cheek, then jaw and you attempted to breath out and slow your racing pulse but the sound that left you was much more vocal than you wanted it to be.
Sebastian stopped and you quickly sobered from the passion. He raised himself off of you, and you jolted up.
He wiped a hand over his mouth. âThis is⌠compromising.â He muttered whilst you were being brought back to the reality of what you were doing.
Kissing Sebastianâ kissing anyone!âAlone in a room together, with wandering hands and hot bodies. It was completely and utterly shameful. It wasnât as though you were innocent children who could get away with linking arms or coupled rendezvous, the two of you were about to graduate and enter âproper societyâ and however forward thinking the magical word was compared to the muggle word, hooking up with your dearest friend with no ring was still considered dishonourable.
âIt is.â You nodded, wide eyed. Would you still be able to wear a white wedding dress after this? Was it allowed? What even was âbeing uncleanâ? Did making out count? The dizzying feeling returned. All you wanted to do was rewind time and stop yourself from ever making a peep so that Sebastian wouldâve continued his journey down your body.
And clearly, Sebastian didnât want his exploration to end either because his hands lingered around your uniform vest.
âAre you hot?â He asked, eyes dark and utterly taken by you.
âA little, yes.â You nodded, keenly watching his hands encompass the first button.
"May I?"
"Yes." You sighed shakily.
He was slow to thread the black buttons through their slits, opening your chest up to the cool air inside the room of requirement. It seemed the rain had also dampened the fabric underneath the vest, clinging it to your skin. The sight elicited a rough exhale from Sebastian whose reflex was to avert his gaze. He slid the vest off of you and rested his hands at your torso.
"Are you alright?" You asked in hopes to catch his eyes.
"Yes. I'm more than alright, actually." You would laugh if the comment hadn't made goosebumps rise on your skin. He finally returned to face you. âCan I kiss you again?â
âYes.â You replied, with an embarrassing eagerness.
He returned from where he left you, kissing your jaw and then ear with such lightness it couldâve been a peck from a pixie. You werenât sure what you expected, but the way he held you cried love and devotion. Treating your skin like porcelain, and your lips like a favourite dessert he needed to savour (lest he never eat it again). You supposed Sebastian would be a fast lover, a man who would take as he desired and give his all.
This was slow, relaxing, gentle and kind. Almost melancholy. As though with every simple kiss he pressed to your lips, he was apologising.
However you were done with apologies from Sebastian. You wanted his love without guilt.
So you took his face in your hands and kept him locked to your lips for a rhythmic kiss which had his hands clenching and his head feeling light from the rush of blood south. Now you could feel him adjusted to you, taking your lead.
Sebastian decided, when you whimpered at the sensation of his tongue sliding across your lip, that this moment would forever vex him during nights of loneliness.
You werenât sure when, but his hand had found itself on your inner thigh, below the safeguard of your skirt and squeezing your leg in assurance. His thumb dragged over the dip on your stocking, so close to where you longed most.
As your tongue met his in a long swipe, he squeezed you again but this time the squeeze portrayed a promise, that he was going to touch you and draw pleasure from you.
Your heart skipped a beat, and the butterflies became too much to bear.
âSebastianâ Iâm, Iâm worried.â You gasped, breathing out a shaken breath.
His hands were away from you, almost in an instant and most unfortunately so was his mouth. âThen we should stop.â
âBut Iââ You couldnât allow yourself to truely express you wanted more, wanted to continue and be enveloped by him. But he knew, like he always did, what you wanted.
So against his better judgment, Sebastian mumbled a quiet âSorry.â To your previously untouched maidenhood, then found your body with his lips again.
He needed this. He loved you too much to stop.
âDo you know what youâre doing?â You asked meekly, as he kissed and sucked at the skin that peaked from your collar.
âI canât say Iâm experienced, but I know what I want to do.â
âWhatâs that?â You dared to inquire.
âShow you how dear you are to me.â
You whispered a too-soft 'okay' before laying down on your back, like a cat showing its belly to signify its trust. The gesture and the sight of you sprawled out for him, made Sebastian grab his clenched jaw and hide the red settling under his freckles.
You could see a reservation formâ or perhaps it was an anxiousness to please swirling in his eyes. You couldnât tell, but he watched you intensely as his hand traveled down, past your beating chest, over the knobs of your ribs until he dived under your skirt and made his stop at where you burned for him.
His thumb glided over your core and the space between you two felt as though you were on a stage and Sebastian was the only audience member. You had gasped and excitement flickered in his dark eyes. Again, he dragged his thumb over you but with more weight and your previous gasp turned into a whimper. You held onto him, pulling him down into you to avoid his excited stare. His body blanketed you, his scent enveloping you along with the masculine weight of him.
You could feel his hand shift, dulled by the fabric of your stockings then the force of his palm rub against your clothed bundle of nerves. Your legs attempted to close at the sensation, but Sebastian's body kept them open to him. Your chest pounded uncomfortably, so fast and so heavy with the weight of your first-time arousal.
His lips locked to your neck again, his free hand pulling at your tie and unbuttoning the first button on your blouse. Now he kissed a lower, new, more sensitive territory. He moved to the second button and you thought it was impossible for your chest to thud any faster until his wet lips reached a particular sweet spot between your shoulder and neck whilst his other hand worked your sex.
âMy heart.â You whimpered, tugging at his robe. His hand halted, resting around your thigh. The sigh he exhaled lingered on the skin of your neck before he leaned to press his ear against your chest.
He listened for seconds, long enough for your fingers to find their way to his hair. You hadnât realised he held stiffness until his body relaxed into you at the tender rake of your nails through his soft brown locks.
âIâm sorry, I canât control my nerves.â You said, catching your breath and willing your anxious heart to slow.
âDonât be.â He countered, lifting his head from your thudding chest. âIâm affected by all this, too.â He took your hand and pressed it into his chest. You quickly felt the thick beats of his pulse, in a rhythm that easily matched your own.
He returned to lay over you, between your legs, with his head beside your own. You clung to his body that draped over you like a blanket along with his wet, wood smell that you'd only ever caught brief whiffs of before this. You felt guilty, leaving all the pleasing to him, especially since he'd been so kind to your hesitations. "I'm sorry. I'm not doing much, am I?"
"Is sorry your favourite word, love?" He asked, his warm hand caressing your cheek. "You deserve someone doing something to please you for once. Besides, your little sounds are doing enough for me as it is."
You pushed a hand to his face, covering the grin that turned you a deep plum shade. He chuckled and kissed your palm. "And what of you, Sebastian?" The kisses began to lead up your arm but you stopped him. "Sebastian."
"Your selflessness never retires, does it?"
You ignored him, propping yourself up to loosen his tie in a simple show that now, it was his turn. You did so smoothly and so gently that it made Sebastian's jaw tighten. You tossed it to the pile where your vest lay, then moved to his robes, sliding them off him. His expression seemed hard, annoyed almost but you continued. He took your wrist only when your fingers edged to undo his third button.
"Don't do this for me." He muttered, clearly thousands of thoughts buffering his mind, but that horrid guilt resurfaced on his face.
"For you?" You somewhat gaped. He must truly think of you as a saint (a push-over, but a saint) to believe you so innocent in your motives. "Not for you. With you, Sebastian." The words were enough to ease his hold on your wrist, so you continued.
Just as Sebastian, you had little to no experience on any sexual matters. You were hardly familiar with your own body, let alone a male's. So ever the improviser, you lifted yourself over him and sat gently, feeling the poke of his arousal against you. You shivered, and had to look away from him for a brief moment.
His hands snapped to your hips, and he looked at you with some kind of warning in his eyes. Tread carefully. The look said.
With Sebastian below you, you finally got a clean look at him; red lips, flushed face, rustled hair. You'd never seen him in such a state. It allowed you to understand why he enjoyed watching you whilst touching your most sensitive area.
With your hands on his chest for balance, you gently swayed your hips against him. His fingers curled around you, his knuckles blanching, and he let out a grunted curse that melted your insides to molten.
Again you moved against him, finding your own pleasure in the movement, prompting you to do it again. Sebastian was unravelling beneath you, eyes creased shut with his head thrown back and mouth letting out choked moans.
You began to notice Sebastian's hips joining you, rolling up with a feverish need. You dipped down to him, deciding the space was too much. His arms envelop you in a strong hug, tightening when you began to leave kisses across his skin.
âDoes it feel good?â You asked insecurely whilst already knowing the answer.
âHngâ yes.â He nodded desperately.
The following exchange between you two was nothing more than writhing bodies, quiet moans and shallow breaths.
At some point, appearing fed up with your pace and control, Sebastian had shifted you off him and to his side, where he then mounted you. Finding his rightful place between your legs and returning his core to yours, grinding against you in a manor that reminded you what was to come once the layers between you were gone.
It made your insides plea for him, his hand. Anything.
So you took his face, and guided it back to your lips. It was messier now, not fast or rough, just messy as his mind strayed between his deep rolls against you and the way your tongue met his bottom lip.
But he stoped, retracting his hips but not yet his mouth. You broke from him first.
"Sebastion." His name was a plea, a whine against loosing the sensation of him finding friction against you.
"If we continue like this, I... I won't last. You should find your release before it's over."
You wondered how Sebastian might've known you were even capable of climax, then consider what other kinds of books were available in the restricted section of the library he might've come across. The thought didn't linger in your mind for too long, because he had sat up and had begun removing your stockings.
"Sebastian..."
The familiar sound of your nervous unease halted him.
"Just don't stare." You asked, looking away from the sight of him undressing you.
"Of course." It was a shotty promise, but you allowed him to take off your puffy drawers and settle over you again. He kissed your lips briefly, then your cheek, jaw, neck, collarbone and the plush of your breast that peaked from your halfway unbuttoned blouse.
You gazed up at the ceiling you'd designed two years ago, finding comfort in its familiarity. You wondered briefly that if you had told your younger self that Sebastian Sallow would one day see you half undressed, flushed with lust and be kissing his way down your ribs, abdomen and stomach until he reached your sex, what she might say. You had some faint idea, younger you would've responded with "Sounds about right."
The kiss he pressed against your knee was unhurried and deliberate, even more-so was the one he pressed to your inner thigh. When his mouth finally found you it drew a sharp intake of breath from your chest, suspended in the heavy quiet of the room.
Your hands, awkward and alone, grabbed at your skirt and shirt, clenching the fabric until your knuckles went white. One of them instinctually reached for his hair when his hot, wet tongue slowly swiped you for the first time. Another gasp joined the symphony of echoed silence, aside for the occasional rustle of clothes.
His tongue explored you carefully and too light but with each vocal exhale or quick tug at his hair the experimental licks became sure as he uncovered what made you react the most.
You could feel a simple quake in his hands as they held your thighs open and your trembling body steady. You reached to the fingers that created craters in your flesh, brushing across them in a plea for him to hold your hand. And he did.
You had never imaged it could feel like it did, so warm, so encompassing, so vulnerable yet so rewarding. It was all utterly overwhelming. You couldn't think of anything else other than the sensations. His wet tongue sliding across your nerves, the softness of his chestnut brown hair, the puffs of his hot exhales against your skin and the loving hold of his hand.
The builds of pleasure had begun to undeniably form, and the incoming reality that Sebastian would made you climax quickly sent a storm of butterflies within your stomach.
"I think I'm close." You uttered.
Sebastian's eyes fluttered at your heavenly admission, but he didn't allow the swirling of pride in his chest to sway him from your pleasure. His tongue and mouth moved with such deliberate care, that you whimpered to consider how much he must've loved you, to want care for you this way. No, Sebastian was not a fast lover by any means.
The building peaked, until it snapped and you unravelled. Sebastian had known it by the shiver that ripped through your body and the way your fingers tightened almost painfully around his hair. All that, and the moan you let out was the loudest you'd made yet.
You felt the warm cavern of his mouth seperate from you however you were well past the point of reaction as you sobbed and gasped for oxygen to feed your rapturing heart.
Sebastian's eye's glazed over your now glistening skin "You finished." He stated, almost asking in such bewilderment. You didn't reply, still catching your breath. He picked you up from your weak lay on the sofa and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly.
You wondered when he kissed you, if that sweet tang on his tongue was the taste of you.
The intimacy lingered, guiding you into a heat you didn't expect so soon after your peak. Your hand reached the rim of his trousers, index finger curling around his belt and ever so lightly tugging at it.
Sebastian seemed to hesitate, separating from your lips and gazing at you. âWe can stop here. There's no rushââ he began, his voice low and warning, but you silenced him with a soft shake of your head.
âI don't want to stop,â you whispered, the words shaky but certain. The way his breath caught at your words sent warmth bloating your chest.
His hug around you faded as he fumbled with the button of his trousers, his hands trembling slightly as his usual confidence slipped for a vulnerable kind of focus.
Your gaze rose at the ceiling instinctively, to avoid an image so lewd your heart might explode.
He leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours again. The kiss was softer now, as if trying to calm both of your nerves. âItâs just me. You donât have to be nervous.â
âIâm not,â you lied, the tight weakness in your throat betraying you.
Sebastian smiled, brushing his thumb across your cheek. âI think you are,â he countered, âbut thatâs alright. This is... Iâm nervous too.â
âYou donât seem it,â you admitted, and he let out a breathy laugh.
âIâm good at pretending,â he confessed, his tone light but honest. He kissed you again, slower this time, and the warmth of his lips helped steady you.
As he positioned himself, his movements slowed, almost hesitant. His brow furrowed slightly as though searching for the right way to proceed. âIf it hurts, or if you want me to stop, youâll tell me?â
You nodded.
When he began to push forward, he braced himself with a groan you only recognised Sebastian let out when he'd been in pain, though this was something else entirely. The exhale that followed seemed to have winded him. It was as though sliding into you was like sliding into some exquisite oil.
Despite what you might've expected, no pain flooded your body. There was an uneasy pressure, but no incredible discomfort. As his size slid across your nerves you couldn't help the sharp intake of air through your teeth
Sebastian froze immediately. "Too much?" He asked.
"No," you managed, although sounding as if you were holding back a sob, "It's just.. new." His shoulders sagged with relief.
You shifted beneath him, angling your hips instinctively, and the change made him groan, his head dropping to your shoulder. âGods, you feel⌠perfect,â he muttered, his voice muffled against your skin.
He halted a slow jut into you, experimenting with each gentle motion, balancing his desire with your comfortability. That uneasy tightness had lifted almost completely as he massaged your insides, spreading a melting warmth that eased any tension in your mind.
His name fell from your lips and it shattered what composure he had left. "Does it feel better now?" Although the question sounded worried for you, Sebastian wanted more, to go further and harder and needed the permission from your pleasure.
"Yes," you gasp, "Itsâ ahâ Sebastian it's so much better."
Now he had a newfound confidence and his movements grew surer but still achingly gentle.
It was all becoming smoother, more instinctive, and you found yourself matching him, your hips rising to meet his. He groaned at this. The sensation of him filling you, of your bodies moving in perfect sync, was intoxicating. You could feel his hands sliding up your sides, his touch gentle yet tight as he held you close.
The feel of him gliding inside you, slowly and shallowly pleasing you send spark dancing underneath your skin and another tension, similar to the one you felt with Sebastian's mouth around your sex, although not the same, began to build. âSebastian,â you gasped, your voice laced with urgency. âIââ
âJust a little more,â he coaxed, remaining loyal to the kind rhythm of his thrusts. âI can feel it, too.â
You held yourself together for only a moment longer, unravelling too soon and too fast. This one was intense, flooding your body and contracting your muscles, even the ones that surrounded Sebastian. It had pushed him over the edge, too.
A warmth flooded you and the hands clutching his back became sharp nails digging into his shirt and skin. You didn't forget the way he moaned at the rake. Both of you shuddered, Sebastian at finding his release inside you and you feeling it merge with the aftershock of your own climax.
For a moment, there was only the sound of your breaths mingling in the stillness, the world outside forgotten. Sebastian lowered his forehead to yours and collapsed breathless at your side.
You could've drifted off into a deep slumber, you might've for a single moment, if Sebastian hadn't removed his blanket of warmth by lifting himself from the sofa. He took his robe off the pile of strewn bits of clothing, and draped it over you.
Through tiredly lidded eyes, you heard the rustle of clothing as he buttoned up the loose pieces hanging off him.
"Sebastian?" You weren't done basking in the aftercare yet.
"I'm going to brew the potion."
"Potion?"
"A... preventative."
You sat up. "Preventative?"
Although he'd been deep inside you just a moment ago, he attempted to avoid crudeness. "To, you know, stop you from being.. with child."
You weren't sure if you should laugh, or freak out, so an odd mix between the two emotions emitted from you. "Sebastian how do you know so much about all this?"
"Why? Did my skills exceeded your expectations that much?"
"Please, be serious," you begged.
"Well, you know how much I like to read." He seemed to shy from the confession. "After a while, one gets curious about certain things and... as for the potion, I found it in a book about married couples. Said it was 'to only be used to prevent further conception after having too many children' although I think we can bend the rules for this occasion."
"Children? Oh merlin, what have we done." The afterglow had faded too soon and you were left with the cries of a culture that told you sex before marriage was unacceptable. "I'm going to have to wear a black wedding dress..." You despaired.
Sebastian only laughed.
"Don't laugh! I'll have to lie to my future husband, andâ"
"I'll be marrying you," he stated, as though you were slow for not already knowing this.
"What?"
"Love, don't think for a moment I'd let you share yourself with me like this and not marry you," any words you could've hoped to say were buried deep in your pit of a gut, "besides, I've always thought you looked quite pretty in black."
You weakly laughed, the other option being to cry from overwhelm of it all.
"I'll tell you a secret thoughâwe're quite late to the party."
"What do you mean?"
"Weasley, Prewett and Plummly."
"You're joking." You gaped, "with who?"
"None of them will tell. Suppose they might be lying, though I'm sure I did spot Weasley snogging a Hufflepuff once. Might've been her."
"Huh." You supposed that if you had to have guessed, Garreth Weasley would've been the first name you called.
"Pretty sure word got out about it too, that's why he's been in detention for so long. The teachers can't prove it happened, but they can still punish him for it."
So that's why you hadn't seen Garreth as often anymore. With his aunt as a teacher, she'd surely be on his tail about anything scandalous. Then stress twanged your heart.
"What if someone finds out about us, about tonight?"
"They won't."
"What if they do?"
His mouth quirked into a half-smile, equal parts reassuring and mischievous. âWeâd get scolded, thrown in detention, and likely forced to marry sooner than weâd like. Expulsion would be threatened, but I reckon most of the professors have enjoyed watching our so-called âbudding romance.â Iâd wager theyâd let it slide.â
"Professor Wesley would have you strung up by your ears for taking me to bed," you muttered, finding humour in the image, but also horror in the truth of it. "Oh Merlin she'd be so disappointed in me..."
"You're right," he muttered with an exaggerated sigh, "if it was Ominis who'd taken you, she'd be so much happier."
You couldn't help the laugh that left you, or how it quickly dissolved into a groan. "Sebastian please, Iâ what if this was a mistake?"
His amusement faded and he softened. "Think for one moment, with no one else's judgement, did it feel like a mistake?"
"No..."
âYou think Iâd do this with anyone else?â he continued, his voice softer now. âThat Iâd risk everythingâusâfor something fleeting?â
âI donât know,â you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.
Sebastian let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. âMerlin, you really donât give me enough credit, do you?â
âItâs not that,â you protested weakly.
âThen what is it?â he pressed, his gaze intent but not unkind.
"You're not just saying all this to make me feel better, are you? To make me think you want me?" The words felt stupid the moment they left your mouth.
Sebastian blinked, stunned into silence for a moment before a laughâwarm and disbelievingâescaped him. âYouâre daft if you think Iâd ever not want you. Have you met me?â
You swatted at his arm halfheartedly, your cheeks burning. âThis is mortifying.â
âMortifying?â He scoffed, pulling you closer. âThe only thing mortifying about this is how much I love kissing you, everywhere. Truely, I won't be able to think about another thing."
"If we get married, I think I'll die of a heart attack."
Headcannon: Sebastian forces his english accent bc he's a little self conscious of his scottish accent (came from his mum btw). However, the drunker he gets, stronger the scottish comes out.
Warnings: use of a love potion, obsessive, possessive, a kiss.
from the nymph: your humble fairy still doesnât know English that wellâŚ
m.list: slytherin boys x amortentia
Ominis Gaunt had always known that the world was a lie.
Not because he couldnât see it. On the contraryâit was his blindness that gave him what the sighted lacked: the ability to hear the truth. The truth resonated in a breath, in the pauses between words, in the quiver of a voice when a person tried to appear calm.
The truth about Y/N was unbearable.
He heard it on the very first day she sat beside him in Potionsâa place where no one usually sat. "May I?" she asked, and in her voice, there was neither pity nor curiosity. Just a question. Just a girl who didn't care that he was a Gaunt, that he was blind, that the tip of his wand glowed, guiding his way like a hound.
She smelt of ink and apples.
Laterâhe couldnât quite remember whenâhe began to count her steps. Twenty-three from the entrance of the Great Hall to the Slytherin table. Seventeen from the classroom door to their shared desk. He could recognise her gait among a hundred othersâslightly hurried, somewhat uneven, as if she were perpetually afraid of being late.
He fell in love quietly. The way only those accustomed to the dark canâwithout hope, without illusions, simply accepting it as a given, much like his own blindness.
It happened in the library. He overheard a rather intriguing conversation whilst hiding behind a nearby bookshelf, making sure Y/N and Poppy wouldn't see or hear him.
"You're looking at him again," Poppy said with gentle reproach.
"I'm not."
"Y/N."
A pause. As long as a fall.
"It will pass," Y/N said at last, and her voice was so even, so carefully smoothed out, that Ominis's chest ached. He knew that tone. He used it himself every time someone asked what it was like not to see.
"Sebastian doesn't..." Poppy began.
"I know," Y/N cut her off. "I know he doesn't. Please, let's not."
Sebastian.
Of course. Of course, it was Sebastian.
Ominis stood between the shelves, pressing his fingers into the spines of the books so hard his skin turned white, thinking what a cruel joke it was to be burdened with the ability to hear the truth, yet lack the power to shut it out.
He began to observeâas much as a blind man could observe.
Y/N never showed it. That was what killed him. She didn't blush around Sebastianâat least, her voice didn't alter. She didn't seek excuses to be near him. She didn't laugh louder than usual at his jokes. She was flawless in her pretence, and Ominis simultaneously hated her and admired her for it, because he did exactly the same thing.
Two people drowning in silence, next to a person who noticed nothing.
Sebastian was his best friend. The only one who never spoke to him like an invalid. Sebastian was loud, confident, aliveâeverything Ominis wasn't and never would be.
And Sebastian looked at Y/N and didn't see her.
What irony. Sightedâyet blind.
The potion was not complicated.
Ominis knew the recipe. The Gaunts knew many recipes they ought not to knowâit was in the blood, in the family library, in the whispers he heard as a child, hiding behind the drapery from his father and his guests. Amortentia. A pearlescent potion with a pinkish hue. He couldn't see its colour, but the smell... he would recognise its scent among a thousand.
When he uncorked the vial to check, the aroma of ink and apples rose to greet him.
His hands didn't tremble. That was what frightened him most. He knew it was wrong. He knew it was exactly what his parents would have done. His family. The Gaunts. Manipulation, control, violence wrapped in pretty packagingâ"it's for her own good," "she'll thank us later," "it's for the best." He had heard those phrases a thousand times in the manor, where the walls had absorbed so much Dark Magic they seemed to whisper themselves.
He despised his family.
And yet.
Yet here he stood in the Room of Requirement, holding a vial of Amortentia, thinking: She suffers anyway. She loves someone who does not love her. I love someone who does not love me. What difference does it makeâone unrequited love or another? At least I will love her back.
The logic was flawless. And rotten to the core. He knew that.
He did it anyway.
Just under half the vial was poured into her pumpkin juice.
She drankâhe heard her take a sip, set the goblet down, laugh at something Natty said. A normal morning. A normal breakfast. Ominis ate his porridge, and every grain felt like sand.
Nothing happened. Nothing happened for an hour.
And then, in Transfiguration, Y/N sat next to himâin her usual seatâand he felt her edge closer. Not at a friend's distance. Closer.
"Ominis," she said, and there was something new in her voice. Something warm and thick, like honey. "You have an eyelash on your cheek."
Her fingers touched his face.
She had never touched his face before.
He stopped breathing. The world shrank to a single pointâthe pads of her fingers on his cheekbone, light, cautious, impossible.
"There," she said. "Make a wish."
"I already did," he thought. "And I've already made it come true."
It happened gradually.
Firstâthe touches. Casual, seemingly accidental, yet too frequent to be a coincidence. Her hand on his elbow as they walked down the corridor. Her shoulder pressed against his in the library. Her fingers threading through his hairâ"you had a stray lock, I just..."
And thenâŚ
"Do you know you have beautiful hands?" she said one day, and her voice was so sincere, so genuine, that for a second, Ominis forgot.
He forgot about the potion in the pumpkin juice.
"I have the hands of a Gaunt," he replied, and the sarcasm was meant to protect him like a shield, but she laughed and took his hand, and the shield shattered into shards.
"You have Ominis's hands," she said. "Just Ominis's."
This isn't what you want. You want Sebastianâhis arrogant smirk, his foolish bravery, his ability to walk into a room as if he had created it. You want brown eyes that look and see. Not dead, milky, empty ones.
But she squeezed his fingers, and he stayed silent.
A week later, she kissed him.
It happened in the Astronomy Towerâshe had brought him there in the evening, "just wanting to be with you," and they sat on the cold stone, the wind smelling of impending rain.
"Ominis," she said, her voice ringing like a taut string.
"What?"
"I think... I don't know when it started, but I..."
She didn't finish. Instead, her lips found hisâhesitantly, missing at first, brushing the corner of his mouth, and thenâperfectly, soft and warm. She kissed him as if she were afraid, as if he might break, and that sheer caution made his breath catch.
She was real. The kiss was real. The trembling of her hands was real.
Her feelings were not.
He returned the kiss. His hands found her face, and for the first time, he "saw" her this wayâwith his fingertips. The line of her jaw, her cheekbones, her eyelashesâwet with tears? No, it was the rain. Please, let it be the rain.
"I love you," she whispered against his lips.
She became his shadow. His light. His personal, fabricated lie.
Y/N would hug him in the Great Hall, unashamed of the stares. Rest her head on his shoulder during dinner. Whisper "I love you so much." She laughedâthat same laugh that made his heart clenchâand her fingers always found him: his hand, his neck, a strand of hair behind his ear.
"You're the most incredible person I know," she would say. "Do you know that?"
"You have low standards," he would reply, and she would laugh and kiss his temple.
It was everything he had wanted. It was everything he had wanted for yearsâto be needed by someone, not out of pity, not out of politeness, not out of familial duty. To be chosen. To be loved. To be the one someone returns to, not walks away from.
And every evening, once alone, he would add a few drops to her morning pumpkin juice.
Routine.
Something inside himâsomething that used to be a conscienceâstopped hurting. Hardened, like a callus. He didn't know exactly when it happened. Perhaps after their first kiss. Perhaps earlierâwhen he first thought that he deserved happiness just as much as Sebastian did.
He hated his family.
But the apple, evidently, doesn't fall far from the tree.
Sebastian noticed three weeks later.
It was surprisingly long for someone who considered himself observant. Though, come to think of it, Sebastian only ever noticed what he wanted to notice. He hadn't noticed that Y/N was in love with him. He hadn't noticed when his sister began to fade. He didn't notice warnings until it was too late.
"I need to speak with you," Sebastian said, catching up with him in the dungeons.
"Then speak."
"In private."
They stepped into an empty classroom. Sebastian closed the door. Ominis could hear him pacing the roomâseven steps one way, a turn, seven back.
"Is this about Y/N?" Ominis asked. There was no point in drawing it out.
"You know it is."
"And what exactly troubles you? That your blind friend has finally found someone who wants to be around him? How touching that you care."
"Stop it." Sebastian halted. "I know what you did."
Silence.
Ominis felt something cold trickle down his spine, but his faceâhis face remained impassive.
"Enlighten me."
"Amortentia, Ominis." Sebastian spat the word as if it burned his mouth. "I found an empty vial in your trunk. Don't look at me like thatâyes, I rifled through your belongings, and no, I'm not apologising."
"You rummaged through my things."
"Because three weeks ago, Y/N could barely look in myâŚ" He caught himself.
"Finish your sentence," Ominis said quietly. "Three weeks ago, Y/N could barely look your way without suffering from unrequited love. And you were perfectly fine with that, weren't you? You relished itâbeing adored whilst giving nothing in return."
"That's not true."
"It is true. You didn't love her, Sebastian. You didn't even see her. And now that she sees me, you suddenly care?"
"She doesn't see you!" Sebastian exploded. "She sees the potion! That isn't love, Ominis, it's..."
"And how would you know what love looks like?"
The blow was precise. Ominis knew where to strikeâhe always did. Blindness made him cruel with words: if you cannot strike with a fist, you learn to strike with your tongue.
Sebastian was silent. Ominis heard his breathingâragged, furious.
"You have to stop," Sebastian said at last. Quieter. More dangerously. "This is Dark Magic. This is what your relatives do, Ominis. This is exactly what you've spent your life running from."
But Sebastian knew where to strike as well; he didn't want his friend to feel superior. Ominis smiled.
"Do you know what, Sebastian? You're right. That is exactly what my relatives do." He took a step forward, and the wand in his hand lit up at the tipânot a guiding light, but something else, something sharp and cold, a reflection of what was happening inside. "You spent a year delving into the Dark Arts for Anne. You used Unforgivable Curses. And when I begged you to stop, you didn't listen. So what makes you think I will?"
"Because you're better than me."
"I was," Ominis said. "I was better."
He turned towards the door. Sebastian grabbed his shoulder.
"I won't let you do this. I'll tell her. I'll tell everyone!"
Ominis stopped. And what rose within himâthat dark, viscous, ancient thing that flowed in the blood of every Gaunt, like a curse, like an inheritance one cannot refuseâfilled him entirely, to the brim, to his fingertips, to his dead, unseeing eyes.
He turned to Sebastian. Slowly. Menacingly.
"Listen to me very carefully," he said in a voice Sebastian had never heard before. A voice that didn't belong to Ominisâthe boy who feared his family. A voice that belonged to a Gaunt. "If you breathe a word to her. If you go near her. If you try to interfereâin any way, directly or indirectly, even with a hintâI will destroy you. And you know I possess the knowledge to do it. After all, I am my father's son."
Sebastian froze, his heart pounding dully in his ears.
"You don't even recognise yourself," Sebastian whispered.
"Perhaps," Ominis replied. "Or perhaps I've finally met the real me."
He walked out of the classroom.
Y/N was waiting for him in the Slytherin common room. He heard her jump off the sofaârecognising the spring that always creaked in a certain wayâand a second later, her arms were around his neck, and she pressed her entire body against him, warm and alive, smelling of ink and apples.
"Where have you been? I missed you," she whispered into his neck.
He hugged her back. Tightly. Too tightly. His fingers dug into the fabric of her robes, and he buried his face in her hair and inhaledâdeeply, desperately, like a drowning man.
"I love you," she said.
Three words. Sincere. Absolutely, unconditionally, unequivocally sincere.
And absolutely, unconditionally, unequivocally false.
"I know," he replied.
She pulled back slightly, and he felt her smileâwith his cheek, with his skin, with that sixth sense that substituted his sight.
"You never say it back," she said without offence, with a tenderness that was worse than any reproach.
Because he couldn't.
Not because he didn't feel it. But because the only true words in this room were his.
"I..." he began.
I love you. I loved you before the potion. I loved you when you loved him. I loved you so much that I destroyed everything I held dearâmy friendship, my morals, myselfâjust to hear my name in your voice.I am the worst person you know. And you will never know it.
"I'm glad you're here," he said.
She hugged him again. He closed his eyesâa pointless, habitual gestureâand thought that this must surely be his own personal hell: to get everything he had ever dreamed of, whilst knowing perfectly well that none of it was real.
Tomorrow morningâa few drops in the pumpkin juice.
The day after tomorrowâmore.
And so onâuntil the end.
The Gaunts always got what they wanted.
He hated his family.
He hated himself.
But her hands were around his neck, and her breath tickled his skin, and she was here, and she was his, and in the darkness that was the only world of Ominis Gaunt, it felt almost like light.
Almost
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