About You
Pairing(s): Sebastian Sallow x Reader (FMC) Words: 2.1k
Summary: After weeks of silence, Sebastian Sallow ends up in the wrong tower—your room. Anger and desire collide as secrets unravel, and when words aren’t enough, he shows you exactly what’s been burning between you all along.
Warnings: NSFW. Explicit sexual content, nudity, mature themes. Descriptive smut. First time sex. Edging, bed-breaking, aftercare. All characters are 18+.
A/N: My first Sebastian oneshot! 2102 words of angst, tension, and smut wrapped together. Thank you to my friends who pushed me to finish this 💙 @authorellasallow and @dianamagritte
“Blasted dance.” You collapse onto the blue sheets, the skirt of your dress pooling around you. Ravenclaw Tower is quiet at night, though faint music still drifts up from the festivities below.
But your night ended hours ago.
The silence doesn’t calm you. Behind your closed eyes, you see Sebastian Sallow—seventh year now, taller, broader—laughing under the chandeliers, spinning with friends, not once sparing you a glance. Ignoring you.
It’s been like this for weeks, but tonight something finally splintered.
You squeeze your eyes shut, forcing constellations into the darkness. Even the stars can’t burn him out.
Thud. A shuffle.
Your eyes snap open. Someone else has come in early. Still in your dress, you wipe your cheeks and slip down the staircase barefoot.
At the bottom, you stop short.
He’s there.
Sebastian Sallow stands in the middle of the common room like he owns it, though he doesn’t belong here. His hair is a mess, his tie loose, his gaze restless.
Your chest tightens. You spin, skirts lifted so you don’t trip, one foot already on the first stair. The wood groans.
You freeze.
“Y/N?” His voice cuts through the silence, rough, uncertain.
Your heart hammers. You climb faster.
“Wait—”
You don’t.
You shove yourself through the dormitory door and slam it shut, twisting the lock.
Footsteps thunder after you. The handle rattles.
“Go away,” you rasp, collapsing onto the bed, eyes fixed on the constellations carved into the canopy above.
For a moment you think he’s gone.
“Alohomora.”
The lock clicks.
Your stomach drops. The door swings open, and Sebastian steps inside.
“Y/N—” His voice cracks, raw from running. He shuts the door but doesn’t come closer.
You press against the bedpost. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I know.”
“Then leave.”
He takes a step. “I can’t.”
“You seemed happy enough downstairs,” you bite out. “Laughing. Smiling. Like I was nothing.”
Something falters in his face, shadows dragging it down. He steps closer, moonlight catching his features.
“Don’t you dare,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “Don’t you dare think I don’t care. Do you think I’ve forgotten you?”
The air thins as he closes in, until the only space left is the one between you.
“You turned me away,” he snaps. “You said no. Do you know what that did to me?”
“I had to.”
“No.” His eyes burn. “You wanted to. Don’t tell me it was anything else.”
“Sebastian—”
“Say it. Say you didn’t feel the same.”
But you can’t.
Your voice breaks. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want you. I did. But my magic… anyone close to me is at risk. You most of all. And I can’t—” Your breath shudders. “I can’t lose you.”
He stares down at you, clenching his jaw. The silence is deafening.
“You think staying away spares me? It doesn’t. It’s already too late. You’ve had me from the start.”
You shake your head, but he leans closer, his shadow falling over you where you sit tangled in the sheets.
“Do you hear me?” His voice is barely audible. “I don’t care about the risk. I care about you.”
Your grip on the sheets loosens when his hand brushes yours.
“Sebastian…”
That’s all it takes. He dips his head, mouth finding yours.
The kiss hits hard—months of silence collapsing in a single breath. His mouth moves against yours with dizzying force.
He pulls back just enough to breathe, eyes searching yours like he’s daring you to stop him. You don’t. Relief flickers across his face, and then he’s kissing you again, slower, deeper, until every nerve feels strung tight.
His hand cups your jaw, moving his thumb to brush over your cheek before sliding down your throat. One tug, and your strap slips. His lips follow—your jaw, your neck, the space just beneath your ear.
Your breath hitches. He feels it, hears it, and his lips curl in a wicked smile.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs. But you don’t.
You can’t.
Instead, you fist his loosened tie and drag him back to you. The kiss turns messy, desperate, his teeth catching your lip until you gasp. His body presses you into the mattress, his hand sliding across your waist, claiming more with every inch.
His fingers fumble at the laces of your dress. He tugs, curses when the knot won’t budge. “Fuck—who designed this torture device?”
You laugh, breathless. “It’s a corset, Sebastian.”
“Yes, I gathered. A bloody death trap at that.” He bites down on a lace, jerking it free. The sound you make is half gasp, half giggle.
“You look ridiculous.”
He glances up, mischief sparking. “Ridiculous? I’m liberating you.” The ties give, the bodice slackens, and before you can retort, his mouth is back on yours, hungrier now.
His hands don’t hesitate. He peels the fabric down, baring your shoulders, your chest, your stomach. The dress slides lower, over your hips, down your thighs, until silk pools at the foot of the bed.
He pauses, only long enough to look—as though he’s been starving and you’re the first thing to taste. His hand drags slowly up your leg, settling at your hip.
“Much better,” he murmurs.
His fingers trail your collarbone, down your stomach, before slipping between your thighs. The air makes you shiver, but his palm is warm as he spreads you wide.
Sebastian shifts lower, still dressed. When he looks up, his brown eyes catch the moonlight, golden flecks burning. His freckles stand out against flushed skin, his lips swollen from kissing you senseless.
“Y/N,” he breathes. “You’re beautiful.”
Then his mouth lowers to you. The first slow drag of his tongue makes your whole body jolt. A moan slips free before you can stop it.
He hums against you, steadying your thighs when they twitch. He doesn’t rush. With every flick of his tongue, he’s savoring you, drawing sounds from you you’ve never made before.
When he seals his mouth around your clit and sucks gently, your vision blurs. A louder moan tears free, your hands gripping the sheets. He glances up through messy hair, freckles damp with heat, and the look in his eyes nearly undoes you more than his mouth does.
He watches you react as if watching you unravel is the only thing he’s ever wanted.
The pressure builds fast, your body straining toward the peak, your hips rocking helplessly into his mouth. You’re so close—
He moves his mouth.
The sudden absence is brutal. He presses a soft kiss to your thigh instead.
“Sebastian—” Your voice strains. “Please—don’t stop—”
He looks up, chest heaving. “Not like this,” he says softly. “Not yet.”
Confusion cuts through the haze of need, but then he leans over you, kissing you deep. You taste yourself on his tongue, and his words click into place when he pulls back.
“I want to be inside you when you fall apart for me.”
Your heart races. “Yes,” you whisper. “Sebastian… I want you.”
He stills, making sure you mean it. Then his shoulders ease, the tension leaving him.
His tie drops to the floor. His shirt follows, freckles revealed like scattered constellations across his chest and arms.
Your hands skim his skin, tracing the marks you’ve memorized from afar. His breath stutters. “Y/N,” he groans, “you have no idea what you do to me.”
Trousers fall next, leaving him in briefs that barely hide how hard he is. Even then, his eyes stay on yours, silent but certain: are you sure?
“Yes,” you whisper again.
You want him.
All of him.
Sebastian climbs back over you, bracing himself above you. His eyes still never leave your face, watching every flicker of hesitation, every breath.
He kisses you again before sliding a hand between your thighs over more. This time his fingers stroke through your wetness, and he groans into your mouth.
“Merlin,” he mutters, forehead pressed to yours. “You’re dripping for me.”
Your body trembles as he guides himself down, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance. He’s thick, too much and not enough all at once.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispers. “I’ll stop.”
But you shake your head, gripping his shoulders, freckles shifting under your fingers. “I trust you.”
He kisses you once more before pushing in slowly.
The stretch makes you gasp loudly. You’re aching. He groans too, restraining himself. Inch by inch, he fills you, pausing whenever you whimper, rubbing his thumb over your hip to soothe you.
“You’re so tight,” he gasps. “So fucking perfect.”
It feels impossible at first, like your body isn’t built to take him, but the ache melts away as you adjust. He waits, buried deep, until you nod for him to move.
The first thrust is careful. The next, smoother. Soon he’s rocking into you, each stroke sliding easier as your body yields. The sound of it fills the room.
“Feels so good,” you whisper, clinging to him.
He groans, lips dragging across your throat. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”
At first he’s gentle, every movement meant to ease you open, but the more you moan and tighten around him, the more he loses control. His rhythm deepens until the bedframe rattles beneath you.
Your thighs wrap around his waist, urging him closer. He glances down, hair damp across his brow, golden-flecked eyes dark. “Fuck—you feel unreal. I can’t—” His hips slam harder, his breath breaking. “I can’t slow down.”
The mattress squeaks, the headboard thuds against the wall, the wooden slats beneath you groan. You’re burning, stretched full, every thrust hitting deeper than the last. His hand finds your clit, circling fast and sure, and the pressure inside you builds too quickly to hold back.
“Sebastian—” Your voice cracks, nails digging into his back.
“Come for me,” he groans against your jaw, hips snapping harder. “I want to feel you.”
The words tip you over. Heat explodes, your body clenching tight around him as your orgasm tears through you. You scream out his name, arching against him, and the squeeze of your walls makes him curse, his hips stuttering.
The bedframe cracks with the force of it, wood splintering beneath you, but he doesn’t stop. He drives into you like he can’t get close enough, chasing his own release through the wreck of yours.
With a final deep thrust, he buries himself inside you and spills with a broken groan, shoulders shaking under your grip. His breath is ragged against your neck, your name torn from his throat as he comes undone.
The bedframe groans again, but all you feel is him—pressed to your skin, his breath hot against your neck, his lips brushing soft kisses over your jaw as though to make up for the roughness.
When the world steadies, he stays buried inside you for a moment longer before finally collapsing at your side.
For a while, neither of you move. You’re still trembling, stretched and sore. The ache od him lingers, but his arm hooks around your waist and pulls you in without hesitation.
“You all right?” he asks, lips grazing your temple.
You nod, nestling into his shoulder. “A little sore.”
“Did I—” His jaw flexes. “Was it too much?”
“No,” you murmur quickly, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “Just… new.”
He lets out a sigh of relief. “Good.”
Another crack groans through the frame, and he huffs a laugh, dragging a hand through his sweat-damp hair. “Bloody hell. I broke your bed.”
Despite everything, you laugh too, muffling it against his chest.
He flicks his wand, muttering the charm, and the splintered wood knits itself back together. “There. At least it won’t collapse the next time someone sits on it.” He smirks. “Not that I plan on giving it much rest.”
You swat his chest, but his grin only widens.
Then his gaze catches yours, and the smirk fades. “Whatever comes with this magic of yours—I’m not running.”
“Sebastian—”
“I mean it,” He speaks with finality. “If it’s dangerous, then fine. We’ll deal with it. But you don’t get to shut me out. Not anymore.”
The knot in your chest eases. You trace the freckles along his cheek with a shaky smile. “Together, then?”
He leans in, sealing the deal with his lips. “Together.”
And when he pulls you closer, tangled in the freshly mended bed, it isn’t sweet promises that eases you—it’s the tone in his voice, the feel of him beside you, and the unspoken promise that he isn’t letting go.
