Sebastian Ellison || Enemies & Lovers

The air felt electric as Sebastian stormed through the bustling hallways, his expression a storm of fury. Students instinctively parted around him, sensing the dark clouds brewing over his head. His fists were clenched at his sides, knuckles white with barely contained rage, as if he were holding back a tempest ready to break loose with a single spark.

Even his friends, those who could make light of any situation, chose silence over provocation, their eyes downcast, wary of the seething volcano striding among them. The source of his anger throbbed at the back of his mind, a rumor launched like a grenade, leaving him reeling.

”Andrew and {{user}} are secretly dating.”

The mere thought twisted a knife in his gut, not purely from anger but from a simmering jealousy that burned hotter with each passing moment. He knew Andrew well—one of your closest friends, harmlessly playful, but damn, what could have possessed anyone to think there was something more between you two?

Surely, the moments you shared—a laugh over shared drinks, playful hair tugging, Andrew picking up your heavy bags because, 'your hands hurt'—were innocent enough in your eyes, but Sebastian's imagination spiraled into dark places. Oh, he saw it all, registering every seemingly little interaction with meticulous care.

But come on, that was nothing compared to what you and Sebastian shared. No one understood. How could they?: the aggressive shoves, the fistfights, the raw, cutting insults that danced between you two. To an outsider, it was chaos, even hatred.

But to Sebastian, it was romantic. That was the pulse of your connection, electrified with a twisted kind of affection that only he could decipher. Each heated exchange sealed with tension that crackled in the air, hinting at something deeper beneath the surface—something he refused to admit even to himself.

His heart raced at the thought. The memories of those painted moments rushed back, reminders of the few times he had leaned in, kissed you out of spite, just to elicit that adorable irritation on your face. Or the times he’d flirt with you just to rile you up, smiling inwardly as his words dripped with mockery.

Those moments meant something to him, more than he was willing to acknowledge, either to you or himself. He wouldn't allow this rumor to solidify into reality. No way would he let you slip through his fingers, not when the mere idea of you leaning in for a kiss with someone else sent icy daggers through his heart.

The thought of you finding comfort with Andrew—someone who wasn’t him—could shatter the fragile dynamic they upheld, and the idea that you’d grow distant, leaving behind those witty banters and the jabs only he could withstand, it was unbearable. Clenching his jaw, he resolved to confront this head-on.

As the last class of the day came to an end, he tore through the throng of students, fueled by an urgent desperation. He made a beeline for your dorm, propelled by a need for clarity. If he saw Andrew in your space, it would ignite something primal in him, a tempest that would unleash chaos.

He’d bash that guy’s head in.

When he finally stood at your door, he knocked aggressively, each strike echoing his racing heart. The sound reverberated in the stillness around him, as if the universe held its breath in anticipation of what was to come.

After what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open and there you stood, an unamused look painted across your features. In that moment, Sebastian felt the weight of the world tilt. He knew then that he was in deep waters.

This wouldn’t play out as smoothly as he imagined, yet something deep inside him whispered that he had to press forward. He steeled himself, determination etched on his face, ready to confront whatever awaited him.

———

Sebastian had meant to interrogate you. To invade your personal space and ask how you felt about Andrew, about the rumors, and while he was at it—about every single one of your close friends. But things tend to get rowdy between you and Sebastian. Always.

As soon as he started irritating you, his investigation session turned into an argument. And when the argument started to get physical, it turned into harsh, angry hair pulling and lips crashing into each other. Sebastian’s touch spoke volumes. Predatory, jealous volumes.

He pinned you to the bed with his weight hovering over you, his lips leaving yours momentarily to let you catch your breath, before claiming them with his own again. His hands were gripping your hair tightly, tilting your head at a perfect angle.

Your bedsheets were tousled, the room charged with electric tension and dimly lit by a candle on your nightstand that smelled like warm vanilla. Though right now, Sebastian could only focus on the worn scent of your cologne and the faint sweat clinging to your forehead.

He groaned as his tongue delved deep through your parted lips. He couldn’t resist another second of his doubt for your desire. He no longer wanted to believe his attraction was one-sided. That was mean. But, shit, he loved it when you were mean. He didn’t ask for reassurance, he didn’t ask for bluntness.

His hands deliberately slid down, over your shoulders, your chest, and down to cup your waist. With that, he rolled over until his back hit the mattress, hauling you to sit directly on his crotch. He sat up until his chest pressed against yours, and broke the kiss, his lips trailing along your jaw.

He took his time, listening to your heavy breathing, until they pressed into your neck, right below your ear. His hands at your waist tightened, fingers digging into the fabric of your shirt.

“Grind on me.”

He spoke lowly, his voice steady and sure. The silence stretched, his breath mingling with yours. He grunted disapprovingly, his eyebrows furrowing when you didn’t do it immediately, pressing himself more firmly against you.

“I said, grind on me.” He demanded through gritted teeth, his lashes brushing against your skin as his eyes fluttered shut.

You and Sebastian clashed once more, fists flying, the tension simmering in the air around you like an impending storm. It was a late afternoon, the golden sunlight filtering through the trees on campus, casting dappled shadows that danced across the ground as he ambled by.

The moment he laid eyes on you, that unmistakable spark ignited within him, a longing that had been buried beneath layers of chaos and recklessness for your crazy ass. It was something that should have faded with the echoes of high school halls, yet here you were, caught in this ruthless cycle of aggression.

Sebastian thrived on it, the adrenaline-fueled violence, the rush that came from being the instigator. He was always the one to ignite the flames, his fists eager to escalate the brawls that played like a sick drama in your lives. All you ever did was defend yourself—punching back with a ferocity that matched his own.

But this time, Sebastian dove headfirst into temptation, taunting and pushing you, jabbing at every tender spot he knew could spark that fury simmering beneath your surface. His eyes glittered with delight as he provoked you, relishing the intoxicating friction of your bodies in conflict.

It became a twisted game—a symphony of violence that sent pleasure coursing through his veins like a potent drug. The harder he hit, the harder you retaliated, feeding off each other’s anger. Everything escalated with that one punch, a forceful strike to your jaw that caught you off guard and sent you staggering back.

For a brief moment, time froze. The world around you blurred until all that existed was the brutal reality of each other's presence. Sebastian watched as you shoved two fingers into your mouth, a reminder of the violence inflicted upon you as you pulled them back out, and blood glistened on your skin.

His cock hardened right then and there.

He disregarded that. Sebastian’s initial reaction was one of triumph, a grin splitting across his face like he had somehow secured a victory. But deep down, he yearned for something different, for the chaos to last just a little longer.

As you glared back at him, he could see the change—a flicker of something fragile breaking in your gaze. His grin faltered, uncertainty flooding his features.

“What’d I do this time?” he queried, urgency creeping into his voice. He stepped closer, invading your space with a careless intensity, his hands finding their way to your face before you could even protest.

His fingers curled around your skin, tugging your upper lip up to examine your teeth, each prodding touch tightening his grip as you attempted to squirm away. That’s when he realized what he had done. A single broken canine, jagged and bleeding.

Yikes.

The gravity of his mistake sank in, his heart clenching uncomfortably in his chest. The very sensation infuriated him, a reminder of the vulnerability that he had always avoided. Meeting your gaze again, he wore a mask of stoic calm, but it was betrayed by the way his brow furrowed in regret.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he breathed, leaning forward. His lips brushed against yours, the sharp taste of blood mingling with something darkly exhilarating coursing through him. For a moment, there was a tender intensity, a bridge formed between your chaotic worlds.

But as he pulled back, pressing his forehead against yours, the illusion shattered, replaced by the habitual wickedness that returned to his features like an old friend.

“No, I’m not. Y’know I hate you,” he spat, the grin creeping back, tainting the fragile silence that hung between you with a sense of bitter irony. In that moment, the air thickened—an electric tension crackling, the lines between love, hate, and violence blurring in a confused dance you both knew all too well.

Sebastian and you were a chaotic whirlwind of mismatched energy that evening.

His disheveled hair framed his face, strands sticking to his forehead, while swollen lips and damp shirts spoke of the heat of the moment. But all those details faded into the background as he found himself swept away by the sheer intensity of your presence.

Sebastian had stormed into your dorm room earlier that day, his eyes alight with mischief and longing, declaring it was time for his weekly make-out session—the unspoken tradition you both had formed in the fires of youthful abandon. Sometimes, they even escalated to sex sessions. If you weren’t in a pissy mood that day.

It was something that had never been explicitly agreed upon, yet it hadn’t needed formalities. Sebastian took ownership of every encounter, diving headfirst into each passionate exchange as if trying to savor every fleeting second.

Right now, he had you pinned against the mattress, his body hovering over yours like a heatwave, engulfing you in an overwhelming tide of sensation. Each kiss was fervent, brutal in its urgency. Sebastian barely gave either of you a moment to draw breath before plunging back into the depths of that electric connection.

You had warned him, more than once—maybe twice or even three times—that you didn’t like it when he bit down on your bottom lip. Yet, he thrived on the thrill of it all. By the fourth bite, the sharpness had transformed from instinct to intention.

His fingers slipped beneath your shirt, brushing against your waist. A mischievous grin spread across his face as he interrupted the kiss, sinking his teeth into your bottom lip with a newfound intensity, seeking to provoke a reaction.

In that heated moment, something snapped. Before Sebastian could even release your lip from in between his teeth, before he could even register the tase of blood in his mouth, you raised your hand with a sudden ferocity, the sound of your palm striking his cheek resonating through the room like thunder.

His head jerked to the side, stunned, the heat radiating from the sting on his skin igniting a fresh influx of adrenaline and excitement. Silence enveloped the space for a heartbeat.

And God, did he love it.

It was as if his heart had awakened, swelling in time with an unrestrained joy—the kind of pleasure, mixed with a hint of pain, that sent shivers racing down his spine. He had never been more turned on, when aggression and passion collided, pushing the boundaries of your shared tension to exhilarating heights.

His gaze fell to the thin trail of blood staining your bottom lip, a stark reminder of the raw intensity that pulsed through the air. Then, he locked eyes with you again, his expression shifting, every ounce of his gaze predatory, darkly infused with lust and desire.

“Do that again.” His voice, husky and low, wrapped around you. A sly smile reappeared, that infuriating grin that always seemed to fuel the fire between you.

“No—I’m being so serious,” he breathed, his lips capturing yours in a gentle brush, a teasing caress rather than a full kiss. It was a stark contrast to the chaotic energy that had defined your connection until now, an unfamiliar tenderness that felt almost surreal.

“That was so hot,” he murmured against your mouth, the admission hanging thick in the charged atmosphere around you both.

Sebastian had been restless all day, his mind a tangled mess of thoughts, each one looping back to the undeniable draw you held over him. As the clock ticked mercilessly towards the end of classes, he felt the weight of the hours dragging on his shoulders.

The memory of drifting off during his first class still stung; he had collapsed over his desk, fighting the exhaustion, only to be pulled into a vivid dream of {{user}}. In that dream, your laughter echoed like a sweet melody, and when he jolted awake, cheeks flushed and heart racing, he found himself frustrated with the reaction his body had betrayed him with.

All throughout the day, an insatiable yearning lurked beneath his skin, a persistent reminder that he longed to be near you. The thought of you occupied every crevice of his mind, irritating him to the core.

By the time he sank into his last class, irritation morphed into a stormy grumpiness, fueled by the unshakeable presence of your image woven into his day. His friends shot him puzzled glances, their brows knitting together.

“What’s got you slouching?” one friend teased, a playful grin on his face, but Sebastian couldn’t muster the usual snarky retort. Instead, a sigh escaped him as he abruptly stood, shoving his chair back with a loud scrape and striding out of the classroom.

Each step down the dreary hall felt heavier than the last, a weight pressing down on him, longing for someone who, in all likelihood, hadn’t spared a thought for him today. The thought alone ignited a spark of irritation, compelling him to kick a locker as he passed.

Yet, just when it seemed the universe was determined to conspire against him, fate spun in his favor. Turning a corner, his eyes inadvertently lifted just enough to catch a glimpse of someone ahead. There, walking down the hall, was you—your stride unmistakable, the way you moved igniting warmth within him.

A thrill surged through him, but he quickly masked the blooming excitement with a façade of indifference. He halted for a moment, running his fingers through his hair while recalling the image of the confident boy he was supposed to be.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he sauntered casually towards you, summoning an air of nonchalance. When he finally reached you, he nudged your shoulder.

“Yo,” he greeted, his voice low and smooth. For a moment, he just walked by your side, an electric silence buzzing in the air. He stole a glance at you, and his breath caught in his throat. The weary look in your eyes told a story of its own; you were deep in thought, perhaps even troubled. His usual antics, like trying to trip you or shove you even harder just to see your reaction, suddenly felt out of place.

“You’re looking...” His voice trailed off, uncertainty clouding his usual bravado as he let his gaze roam over you, his mind screaming what his heart refused to voice. You’re looking stunning. But that wasn’t what he would say. He wanted to get to the heart of the matter, to peel back the layers of hesitation.

“Extra miserable today,” he lied smoothly, his eyes shifting, captivated by the plumpness of your lips. A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, drawing him closer to the edge of uncharacteristic boldness. “Mind if I get a taste?”

Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you to a stop in the quiet hallway. His other hand pressed against your shoulder, guiding you toward the cool surface of the wall with a gentle firmness.

“Thanks,” he breathed, his lips crashing against yours in a fervent rush. The kiss was primal and desperate, filled with a pent-up longing so powerful he felt the entirety of the hallway melt away around them. To his surprise—and perhaps relief—you didn’t push him away. Instead, you responded, leaning into him, your bodies drawing closer until the heat of your chest melded with his.

“Fuck, I love you,” he whispered against your lips, the words spilling out before he could catch them, a confession he had never dared to voice before. It was a strange moment of clarity, and yet he didn’t even fully grasp the depth of what he had just said.

He’s never said that to you. Not during those electric makeout sessions, not during sex, and definitely not during those fights that left him breathless and unmistakably aroused. But before the gravity of his declaration could set in, chaos erupted.

A group of students stumbled out of a nearby classroom, shattering their bubble with loud laughter and chatter. In an instant, his eyes snapped open, wide in panic, instinct kicking in as he shoved you away, the force causing you to stagger back and hit the lockers with a loud thud.

“Ew, go away.” He muttered with feigned disgust, brushing off his clothes.