Good Boy | Sebastian Sallow x F!MC | Spicy One Shot

Good Boy

Author notes:

SMUT. Characters aged up. MINORS do not read or interact, 18+ only!

Needy/slightly unhinged/traumatised Sebastian, post-uncle murdering. All sexual acts are consensual, good ol' P in V against a wall.

-x-

Sebastian Sallow was whimpering as he pressed his girlfriend against the wall of the empty classroom, pinning her small body between the cold stone and the urgent heat of his much-larger frame.

His day had been bad from the moment he'd woken up, exhausted after a long night of intrusive thoughts and horrific nightmares. Sweat-soaked from thrashing about for eight hours straight (and not in a fun way), he'd disentangled himself from his sheets and dragged himself, grumbling and dishevelled, into a day that had steadily gotten worse and worse.

First, he'd endured the wrath of Ominis Gaunt, who'd been in so foul a mood that even Salazar Slytherin himself would've quaked in his boots to witness it, then sat through all of his least favourite subjects in a row - including a double period of History of Magic - and finally, been forced to spend several hours flying around the Quidditch pitch in the pouring rain while Imelda Reyes shouted at him that he a useless sack of ugly, half-sprouted potatoes.

As if all that wasn't bad enough, he'd trudged into the Great Hall for dinner so late that he'd only gotten scraps to eat, stubbed his toe on the Slytherin table on the way out, and when he'd finally tracked down his girlfriend in the library, he'd been forced to wait, silent and brooding, for her study group to fuck off so he could finally be alone with her.

When finally - finally - she'd bid them goodnight, Sebastian had marched her directly out of the library, pulled her into the nearest empty room by her elbow, and whined, petulant and needy, into her open mouth, barely able to form the word 'please' as his fingers dug into her waist.

There wasn't much Sebastian couldn't handle; he was an orphan, after all, had survived a foray into the Dark Arts (though hardly unscathed), used all three Unforgivables without much moral objection, and - since there's no point beating round the bush about it - had used said Unforgivables to murder someone.

Yet despite all the tragedies he'd endured in his comparatively short life, the insurmountable odds stacked against his own happiness, and the way he seemed to possess a natural proclivity for fucking things up, the only thing that ever truly unraveled him was love. Or, more specifically, the acute sting that came when he felt himself in danger of losing it; a sting which manifested as a singular, all-consuming need to find relief in physical intimacy.

In other words, Sebastian Sallow liked to fuck his pain away.

'Bad day?' asked his girlfriend, her sweet voice muffled against his chest as he caged her against the wall.

Unable to form a coherent reply, he leaned his full weight against her, groaning into her hair as he rolled his hips against her navel, pressing, pressing, pressing into her warm body until all her breath squeezed out in a tiny huff. He backed up a bit, giving her just enough space to breathe without letting the heat between them cool, but he was too far gone the way of desperation to allow more than a few inches of separation.

Wordless, he yanked the hem of her blouse free from her skirt and slid it up to her chest, groaning at the feel of her soft skin beneath his calloused palm.