shyamanuensis

[shyamanuensis]

muggle studies - t.n (his pov)

more slytherboy pov's. mdni. hope you enjoy muggle studies like theo does xo

I’m slouched down at the back of this fucking Muggle Studies classroom and the professors voice is about as dull as a drone going on about rotary phones something called a toaster, but my pulse is hammering hard beneath the apple in my throat because your hand’s been creeping up my thigh beneath the desk now that you’re convinced no one is looking. The room’s half empty. Students are zoned out. I’m doing my best to try and keep my expression blank, but goddammit your fingers are bold; sliding over my trousers like you own the fabric to trace the hardened bulge which has been growing since you gave me one of those knowing fucking smirks 15 minutes ago when class started.

I shuffle in my seat; legs parting just a little as you take the hint and eagerly undo my belt and pop the button; unzipping me so fucking quietly, it’s a known fact between us you’ve done this so, so many times before. My breath hitches uncomfortably as you spit into your palm and your hand slips inside. Fingers finding their way down past my boxers. Wrapping warm around my cock. My grip on the quill I’m holding so hard it fucking snaps. Ink pouring out across the table. Your arm hits the underside of the desk, causing it to creak barely audibly however it’s enough to make me paranoid. I glance around. Everyone still oblivious apart from each other. Your palm is slick. It slides up and down faster, with more tension, with the perfect kind of pressure and fuck – it feels too fucking good. I bite my lip; hands fisting my robes and curling beneath the sides of the seat as I try my hardest not to groan. My eyes roll back. There’s a want to take you right here and now, bent over the fucking desk; but no. I have to control myself. Merlin.

“You gonna cum baby?”

Your murmur is barely a breath against my neck, and I nod desperately. The movements short and sharp because yeah – I fucking am. Your grip is so goddamn perfect, hand relentless. It isn’t long before the heat hits. I shift a little lower in my seat. I’m spilling out all over your fingers; hot, messy, undone. I bite my lip a little harder almost making it bleed but it’s the only fucking way to keep quiet. You pull your hand out, casually as anything; licking your fingers clean as I pant; eyes wanting to roll back again and again. The professors still rambling on … now something about kitchen equipment – blenders, I think. They’re absolutely none the wiser. Who needs muggle studies when I can just waste a period with you, which yeah – is much more fucking fulfilling.  

[shyamanuensis]

hiii! I absolutely adore your work and I just know you’ll write knight!tom riddle with princess!reader perfectly. thank you in advance!!!!! xx💗

Oh gosh. Anon, please come off anon so that I can discuss this with you. Are we after dark knight vibes or in shining armour vibes? Oh boy oh boy oh boy!! 💚🐍

[shyamanuensis]

the mattheodore edit in this post from @prythiansprincess was really happy and cute so i now have to balance that out with this angst edit i saw a while back </3 sorry guys

the way i’ve made so many people suffer by sending this edit 😶🫠 mattheodore you are my greatest love and biggest enemy wrapped in one

[shyamanuensis]

watching - slytherin boys

“Oh god – I’m fucked. I think I have a stalker.” “A stalker?” “Y-yeah.. I.. I just feel like there’s someone who’s constantly watching me. Shit in my dorm is always not where I last left it. My underwear keeps going missing….” “What the hell!” “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just going crazy.” “No, no – sweetheart. Don't doubt yourself. This is serious. Have you told anyone?” “Um - no, no. Just you.” “Just me. Okay. I-- I can help. We’ll set up cameras in your dorm. We’ll catch the prick.” “Really? Cameras? You don’t think that’s too like, insane?” “Not at all. We can monitor anyone who comes in and out and find out exactly what kind of sick fuck is behind all this.”

Twelve cameras in total. Pointing at the bed, bathroom, your wardrobe. The surveillance feed to his laptop bookmarked as a favourite. Not that the tab was ever closed. He’d watch you 24/7 if he could. His perfect little princess performing in her perfect fucking little show. One he’d obsess over. One he’d tug it out to. One that felt oh so personalised because he set the whole thing up to suit and benefit himself. You were right to think someone was watching you. You weren’t going crazy. You weren’t delusional. Yet fuck it – going to him, your best friend ever for assistance was just the worst idea you’d ever fucking had.

His personal peepshow.

The cameras always rolling honey....

[shyamanuensis]

Okie I sent you a request earlier today about a possible fic around MC ‘coaching’ Seb (lol). But I thought of another one. Same vibe between the two (besties that just wanna love and fuck each other) and same setting, just them two, maybe they’re a little tipsy or more open for some reason. in conversation she reveals that she’s convinced she can’t cum. No other guy has ever managed and neither has she. She enjoys sex but just doesn’t think THAT will ever happen. And Seb just blurts out that he bet he could. Smug bastard. It becomes a whole thing, she’s like you’re insane, but is convinced… and he does.

Also shared with Applin by the way. You two are just amazing!

Oh hey there. ���� Buckle up because we've got another multi-part series here. Enjoy Part I of two.

Just Once

Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit/MDNI (smut, language); all characters are 18+ Words: ~5,800 Tags: friends with benefits, friends to lovers, mutual pining, smut, sexual exploration

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

“Happy birthday, darling.”

You stifled an amused snort as Sebastian Sallow presented you with a poorly wrapped package. The faded brown paper was clinging for dear life and a green bow had been slapped precariously on top. It was clearly a glass bottle of something Professor Weasley would love to confiscate. You narrowed your eyes at it.

“This isn’t one of Garreth’s concoctions, is it?” you asked warily.

“Nope, nothing but pure, 100% firewhiskey,” Sebastian quipped. He plucked the package from your hand and unwrapped it. You watched him uncork the bottle and take a long swig. “See? No poison or wayward potions here.”

“Did you just buy me that so I’d share it with you?” you mused. Sebastian shrugged and took another drink before returning the bottle to your hand. 

“Nothing wrong with a birthday gift that benefits us both,” he offered. You rolled your eyes and took a drink. The liquid burned all the way down, blooming spiced heat through your throat. It was a welcome distraction.

You hated your birthday. Orphaned since birth, you hadn’t received many annual celebrations. Some years, you forgot about it entirely. It wasn’t until your sixteenth birthday, the first one you’d spent at Hogwarts, that anyone cared to celebrate with you. You were always grateful for your friends for that.

Still, turning eighteen twisted a knot in your gut. You were an official adult now, meaning you’d be expected to live like one. Your Hogwarts days were trickling to an end, with graduation just weeks away. You’d already lined up a job as an auror in training with the Ministry of Magic. You were set to move to London and share a flat with Imelda Reyes. Your plans were all set in place. Adulthood was just around the corner, and on paper, you were prepared. But inside, terror twisted in your chest and turned your stomach.

You drank until the bottle’s neck was empty. 

“Thanks for this,” you said, raising the bottle toward Sebastian. He offered you his signature lopsided grin. 

“Not every day my best friend turns eighteen,” he said. 

“Don’t remind me,” you sighed dramatically.

“Oh, come on, it’s not so bad,” Sebastian said. “I turned eighteen last month and haven’t turned into a stuffy adult yet.”

“That’s because you spent your eighteenth birthday piss drunk until you ended up in bed with Violet McDowell.”

“Best birthday I ever had.”

You snorted and took another swig.

“Speaking of piss-drunk debauchery, where’s that boyfriend of yours?” Sebastian asked. 

“He’s not my boyfriend!” you groaned. It felt like the firewhiskey was already surging to your brain, though talking about your love life – or lack thereof – was enough to make you feel drunk and disheveled.

“Fine, fine. Where’s that bloke you’ve been messing around with?” Sebastian continued.

“He’s spending the weekend with his family.”

“And he’s missing your birthday?” Sebastian tutted. 

“He’s not my boyfriend, Sebastian,” you repeated, your tone edging with warning. “I don’t expect him to celebrate my birthday. We’re just friends.”

“Friends,” Sebastian repeated. “Right.”

“What’s wrong with that?” you demanded with narrowed eyes. You wanted to claw the smirk off his face. Or kiss it.

“Nothing,” Sebastian shrugged innocently. “Just thought Northcott would try a little harder to lock you down now that you’re an adult and all.”

“What on Earth does that have to do with anything?” you snorted.

“We’re all graduating soon. People are starting to pair off,” Sebastian explained. “Everyone else is starting to think of marriage and families and the future.”

“Oh? Who are you proposing marriage to then?” 

“Professor Garlick.”

You snorted into the whiskey bottle. “You wish.”

“That I do.” Sebastian sighed longingly for dramatic effect.

“But really,” you continued. “Who are you courting for forever? Haven’t seen you with anyone since that time I saw you and Charlotte stumbling out of Sharp’s potions cupboard.”

“I said everyone else is starting to pair off,” Sebastian noted. “Not me.”

“Oh, think you’re too good for everyone at Hogwarts?”

“Not at all. To the contrary, I think my reputation has tainted my chances with any ladies here at Hogwarts.”

“And whose fault is that?” you teased.

“Not deflecting any blame,” Sebastian said simply. “I just don’t think any of Hogwarts’ eligible bachelorettes are interested in someone with my track record.”

It was true, Sebastian had developed a reputation for being rather… experienced. Or as Ominis Gaunt put it, Sebastian had “dipped his quill in far too many inkwells.” But it wasn’t because Sebastian wanted to run through every girl at Hogwarts. You’d watched him stumble and fumble his way through attempts at relationships with honest intent. He was simply too messy for most people.

It took a special kind of patience and understanding to maintain any kind of relationship with Sebastian Sallow, be it friendship or something more. The thing about Sebastian was he didn’t always get things right, but he was always sincere. You knew that about him. In fact, you knew most things about him. But Sebastian had never looked at you with the same kind of lust and intrigue he’d looked at other girls. You were his best friend and confidant, the keeper of his deepest secrets, not his deepest desires. 

You’d accepted that ages ago, but every now and then, you couldn’t help but eye your best friend with a wistful kind of melancholy. Just once, you wished he’d see you as a woman rather than an anchor. Sure, you loved being his safe space, but you also wanted him to feel the dirty draw of sinful desire when he looked at you. Just once.

“Well, maybe someday the great Sebastian Sallow will find a woman willing to tolerate his antics,” you finally teased. Sebastian plucked the whiskey bottle from your fingers and took a drink. 

“Maybe someday,” he said simply. Silence settled between you, a cozy kind of quiet that often indicated you were both mulling over some thought you were reluctant to share. It was rare – you and Sebastian spilled nearly every thought that came to mind – but sometimes you enjoyed the intrigue of withholding from him. 

“Can you imagine us, married?” you wondered aloud. “I mean, not to each other, of course, but in general- to other people.”

Your face flushed and you cursed yourself for being stupid enough to bring up the topic of marriage in the presence of Sebastian when alcohol was currently coursing through your system.

Sebastian grinned at you. “What, don’t think I’d be husband material?” he quipped. 

“I think I’d end up hexing you before we even reached the altar,” you shot back. 

“Oh, interesting. I’d love to honeymoon while covered in bruises and boils.”

“Keep talking and maybe you will.”

“Yeah? And where would you like to honeymoon, dear?”

“Someplace warm and romantic.”

“How whimsy. Tell Northcott to pack swimwear.”

You elbowed Sebastian in the side in annoyance. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

“Ow! Alright, fine. He’s not your boyfriend. No need for violence.”

“No need to be so daft.”

“Merlin, adulthood makes you awfully mean,” Sebastian whined. You scowled at him and he chuckled. “I suppose it’s my own fault for giving you firewhiskey.”

“You trying to get me drunk?”

“I don’t need to try.”

“Touche.” You raised the bottle again and chugged until your cheeks burned. The boathouse fell quiet again, the sound of the lake’s surface gently lapping against the docks as a pair of boats bobbed in the water.

“Didn’t you have plans tonight?” you finally asked. “I thought most everyone was going to the Three Broomsticks.”

“They were,” Sebastian sighed. “And I was supposed to bring you there as a surprise.”

“Surprise?”

“Poppy and Imelda wanted to surprise you with a cake or something.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You seemed pretty intent on staying here,” Sebastian shrugged. “But I’m sure everyone’s still there if you want to head into the village.”

“No.” You shook your head. The liquor had seeped into your bloodstream and the notion of walking, or even standing, seemed overwhelming. Truthfully, you had no interest in singing or cake. You were happiest sitting in quiet seclusion with Sebastian. “You can blame me when Imelda inevitably tries to take your head off. Tell her the truth – I drank too much and didn’t make it outside the castle.”

“Whatever you say, birthday girl.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” you continued. “Didn’t you have plans tonight?”

Sebastian shrugged a shoulder. “Not really. It’s your birthday. My only plan was you.”

“Oh. I thought I overheard Nerida saying the two of you were meeting up.”

“Nerida says a lot of things,” Sebastian muttered. You watched him take a long drink from the bottle. 

“Oh, come on. She’s not so bad,” you giggled. “If you can get past the fascination with merpeople, she’s pretty nice.”

“Fascination?” Sebastian snorted. “It’s much worse than that. She once tried to hook up with me near the far window in the Common Room, said it would feel like she’s underwater. Normally that might be kind of hot, but she clearly wanted to do some kind of merperson roleplay.”

You choked on your latest sip of firewhiskey and began to laugh until you hiccuped. It was a deep, belly laugh that echoed through the boathouse. 

“Merlin,” you giggled. “Did she want you to talk dirty to her in Mermish too?”

“It’s not funny,” Sebastian chided, though you could hear the laughter in his voice.

“Oh, Sebastian!” you teased in a breathy, suggestive tone. “Pin my fins down!”

You erupted with another bout of uncontrollable laughter, so loud Sebastian finally had to clamp a hand over your mouth. 

“Someone’s going to hear you!” he hissed. You pried his hand away and rolled your eyes.

“Who? No one comes down here at night. Unless Nerida’s trying to get you in the water for a rendezvous.” You snorted at your own joke, the firewhiskey making it difficult to keep any composure. “Though from what I remember after helping her during fifth year, she’s not much of a swimmer. Hope you can keep her afloat. Maybe there’s a useful spell for that. Or maybe she’d let you fuck her on the beach over there.” 

Sebastian shot you a deadpan stare as you grinned at him. “Messing around with her in the showers was bad enough,” he said. “She likes the water ice cold.”

You cackled at the confession. It was the only way to reduce the sting of Sebastian fooling around with other girls. “Stop it,” you wheezed, tears welling in your eyes. “You really are her magic merman.”

“Not after that,” Sebastian muttered. “I’d rather not catch pneumonia during sex.”

“Aww, where’s the fun in that, Seb?” you teased. “Too sensitive for a cold shower?”

“More like too sane.”

“Poor Nerida,” you cooed in a taunting tone. “All she wants is a merman to make her happy.”

“Yeah well, it’s not going to be me.”

“It’s not nice to kink shame, Sebastian.”

“You’re the one laughing!”

Your banter sent you into another fit of drunken giggles, leaving you laughing so hard you slumped against Sebastian for support. He shook his head at you, his eyes glinting with fond amusement.

“I suppose it’s fair,” you continued once you caught your breath. “Awfully hard to enjoy any nude activities when you’re numb to the bone. I personally can’t tolerate a shower that’s anything short of damn near scalding.”

“Should’ve guessed a demon from the depths of Hell likes her water hot,” Sebastian muttered, drawing a glare from you. 

“I find it relaxing!”

“Whatever gets you off, darling.”

Perhaps it was the irony of his words. Perhaps – or most certainly – it was the alcohol. Something sent you into your worst fit of giggles yet, laughing controllably until you were flat on your back on the stone floor.

Sebastian blinked downward at you when the outburst finally subsided.

“Nothing gets me off,” you snorted. Sebastian’s eyes narrowed.

“What on Earth does that mean?” he asked.

“You know what I mean,” you babbled on, still on your back as your gaze met his from the floor. “Like, I can’t do that.” 

“Do what?”

“That. Get off.”

Sebastian stilled. He clearly thought he knew what you were implying, but was afraid to make any assumptions. Sure, the two of you talked about sex, but not like this.

“And by get off, you mean…” he led, hoping you’d finish the sentence.

“During sex,” you said stupidly. “I can’t get off.”

“You can’t… finish?” Sebastian finally managed.

“Exactly.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” Sebastian pressed. Had you not been so intoxicated, you might have noticed how alarmed he looked by your revelation.

“I don’t know,” you answered simply. “I just can’t. It physically doesn’t happen.”

“You mean ever? Or recently?”

“Ever. Never ever.”

“Never? What about… you know, when you’re on your own?”

“Nope.” You shook your head and winced as it rocked against the cold, hard ground.

“So let me get this straight,” Sebastian said, straightening in his seated position on the ground, his long legs outstretched. “You’re trying to tell me that you’ve never had an orgasm?”

“Nope.”

“You’re lying.”

“Why the fuck would I lie about that?”

“Because that’s mental!” 

“It’s true!”

“But you… you’ve been with… people.”

“I’m aware of my sexual history, Seb.”

“But… but none of those blokes have… you know…”

“They do. But I don’t. It’s okay, really,” you rattled on. “I just assume my body is incapable or something. Like some kind of defect. But I still enjoy sex.”

Clearly your inhibitions were spent. You’d never have revealed your secret so readily had you been sober. In the morning, you’d be mortified at yourself for revealing such details to Sebastian of all people.

“But what’s the point?” Sebastian blurted out incredulously. You blinked upward at him, utterly confused why he appeared so offended that you were incapable of a climax.

“It’s not a big deal!” you insisted. “Sex can still be fun and enjoyable. It still feels good.”

“But don’t you want to know how it feels to… you know?”

“Well, obviously!” you snorted. “Of course, I would. But if I can’t do it myself – and believe me, I’ve tried – then I can’t expect anyone else to be able to do it either. It’s no one’s fault. The blokes I’ve been with have certainly tried. It just doesn’t work.”

Sebastian’s brain stuttered. He was stunned that you’d never known how it felt to fall apart in such a blissful manner, but he was also furious that any man would allow you to believe it was impossible.

“They must not have tried hard enough,” Sebastian said.

“They have, really,” you said, sitting up on your elbows as you eyed him with amusement. “It’s really no big deal, Seb. No need to get worked up about it.”

“It’s unacceptable!”

You couldn’t help but snort at his insulted demeanor. “Seb, relax,” you laughed. “It’s just an unfortunate fact of life. I can’t get off and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“I bet I could do it.”

“Huh?!” You sat up so fast, your head spun. 

“I could do it,” Sebastian repeated so boldly, you began to wonder if someone had placed him under the Imperius Curse. “I could make you… you know.” He swallowed. “I could make you orgasm.”

The boathouse’s cool air no longer felt refreshing against your flushed face. It became heavy and oppressive, suffocating as you searched for something to say.

Instead, you threw your head back and laughed this time, deflecting the need for words. After all, Sebastian had merely been joking, right? And the polite thing to do was to laugh when someone made a joke. Nevermind the fact your head was reeling from the mere thought of Sebastian offering to touch you.

But Sebastian had been quite serious, though he decided to drop the subject the moment you began laughing. He’d play along and pretend it had all been in jest. After all, you were too busy laughing to notice the way his eyes shifted nervously to the ground.

You were also too busy laughing to notice the arrival of Professor Weasley, who promptly scolded you for drinking on school grounds and gave you detention.

—

The following morning, you found yourself spectacularly hungover and embarrassed. You could deal with the first of those dilemmas with some pastries and a pepper-up potion, but the second one could only be resolved by flinging yourself into a stampede of wild hippogriffs.

Instead, you sulked around your dorm room in hopes of avoiding Sebastian until you couldn’t stand the confines of the small space anymore. You slunk into the Slytherin Common Room, where you spotted Sebastian and Ominis chatting in the chairs by the fireplace. 

You swore under your breath and scurried toward the exit. 

“Oi!” 

You swore even louder at the sound of Imelda calling after you. You stopped in your tracks and sighed, turning to face her as she approached. 

“Professor Weasley was looking for you,” she said. “Told me to let you know you and Sallow have detention tomorrow evening.”

“Fabulous,” you muttered. Imelda eyed you with a smirk.

“What’d you two do this time? Does it have anything to do with you bailing on your own birthday?” she asked.

“Got a little too drunk in the boathouse,” you answered. Imelda rolled her eyes. 

“You do know you could have done that at the Three Boomsticks without the detention?”

“Ah, but then she wouldn’t have been able to spend some quality time with her best friend.” Sebastian appeared beside you and draped an arm around your shoulders. You inhaled sharply as his fingers played with your hair.

Imelda shook her head and returned to her chess match. 

“Come with me to the Undercroft,” Sebastian said in your ear.

“Seb, I need to study-”

“It’s Saturday.”

“So?”

“So, in the nearly three years I’ve known you, you’ve never wasted a Saturday with studying. Now let’s go.”

You sighed and followed him quietly to the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower, your arms folded cautiously across your chest. Sebastian turned around to frown at you when he noticed your silence.

“Alright?” he asked.

“Alright. Just a little hungover.”

“Need a pepper-up?”

“I drank one. Just still a little groggy, is all.”

As you continued toward the entrance to the Undercroft, he didn’t address the revelation you’d made last night. You prayed he’d been too drunk to remember. 

That prayer was short-lived as you stepped into the Undercroft.

A large mirror was now leaning against the far wall and the sofa you’d conjured your fifth year had been moved in front of it.

“Sebastian…” you started slowly as you eyed the changed room. He didn’t respond. Instead, he led you toward the sofa, where he stood and lingered, his hands stuffed in his pockets. That was when you noticed the tension in his jaw. 

He was nervous, you realized, and you couldn’t help but suspect it had to do with the confession you’d made the previous night.

“Sebastian,” you repeated as you stood behind the sofa, gazing at your own reflection in the mirror. “What is this?”

“I thought about what you said,” Sebastian said in one breath. “That thing you confided. And I meant what I said. I want to help.”

Oh, fuck.

“Seb, that’s… this… you don’t…” You began to wonder if your heart had ascended into your throat. “You don’t need to do that.”

“But would you let me?”

“Huh?”

“Do you… would you let me? Would you let me try?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Why not? I mean, you don’t have to do anything in return. I’d never ask that of you.”

“Oh.”

“Look,” Sebastian sighed as he dragged a hand through his hair. His eyes were very decisively avoiding yours. “I just think… you deserve to know how it feels. And I genuinely think I could help you.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at him. “Awfully confident of you to assume that,” you mused.

“Awfully disheartening of you to assume I can’t.”

“I didn’t say that,” you said. “It’s just that it’s never happened before.”

“That’s because you’ve never been with me.”

A flush crept up the back of your neck and you felt faint. But even a situation as awkward as this couldn’t keep you from matching Sebastian blow-for-blow. 

“And you always leave every girl you’ve been with completely satisfied?” you challenged. Sebastian smirked at you.

“No one’s ever filed any complaints. If anything, they become repeat customers.” He chuckled when you shot him a look of disgust. “Only joking, darling.”

But you were out of smart words and quick retorts. Now, your head was reeling with the decision you faced. You could say no and leave the Undercroft, and likely the remnants of your friendship with Sebastian. Or you could agree. And at the very least, you’d learn how it’d feel to finally be touched by him, just once. At best, he’d live up to his word and show you the glimpse of heaven you never thought your eyes would meet. Just once.

“Alright, fine,” you finally agreed. “If you’re so sure of yourself, let’s see that magic touch.” You couldn’t believe you’d just agreed to something so reckless and bold

Sebastian blinked. He hadn’t necessarily assumed you’d say no, but he’d been trying to censor his expectations – and hope. 

“A-alright, good,” he said with a nod. He gestured toward the sofa and cleared his throat. “I figured maybe this could help.”

“A mirror?” you asked warily. 

“Yes.”

Sebastian’s confidence hitched as reality ensnared itself in his head. The two of you were about to do something far more intimate than he ever could have envisioned. Of course, he certainly had pictured you in all states of undress, folded beneath him, perched on top of him, and every position in-between. But those were all fantasies, preserved for the quiet sanctity of Sebastian’s mind.

Now, he’d talked himself atop a pedestal and had to prove himself. But this was more than a notch in his belt and another girl to impress. This was you.

But Sebastian was just as stubborn and just as determined as you. And, like you, he always fought tooth and nail to keep his word. Especially when it came to matters that concerned you.

He studied you for a moment, your spine far straighter than usual and your cheeks flushed. You blinked back at him with wide eyes that made his trousers tighten. He felt like a predator waiting to sink his teeth into his prey. 

Once he’d gathered the confidence to convince his legs to work, Sebastian moved toward the sofa and sat smack-dab in the center of it. His arms were draped across the back, his knees parted, while his eyes met yours in the mirror’s reflection. He'd never looked more alluring — or more intimidating.

“Come sit.” It took a fleeting moment for you to understand he didn’t mean for you to lounge next to him. He wanted you to sit between his legs.

“O-okay,” you breathed. You moved at a glacial pace, terrified to appear too eager, eyes locked on the floor, before you stood above Sebastian. When you finally met his gaze, he licked his lips. The ache between your thighs blazed.

“I was thinking,” Sebastian continued as he spun you around so you were looking at yourself in the mirror. He peeked around you to see your reflection as he spoke. “I’ve noticed you’re a visual learner. You always master spells and potion brews as soon as you see them in action. So I thought maybe it’d help you to see yourself. Maybe if you can see what… you like, it’ll make it easier for you to… fully enjoy it.”

“Oh.”

Sebastian reached a hand toward you and you inhaled sharply. He paused, his outstretched hand lingering near your waist. “May I?” he asked. You nodded, unsure your tongue could craft a coherent response.

Sebastian’s hand rested on your waist, his fingers dragging across the fabric that covered the top of your thigh as his hand drifted downward. It snaked lower and lower until his fingers found the hem of your skirt. As his hand disappeared beneath it, cotton filled your mouth.

You could feel both of his hands retreat upward, grazing your thighs until he could feel the seam of your panties. You swallowed a whimper.

“Can I take these off?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” you rasped. The pads of his calloused fingertips felt rough against your skin as they tugged at the waistband of your panties and slid them downward. You watched your reflection as your panties pooled at your feet and your thigh muscles twitched.

Sebastian removed his hands from beneath the hem of your skirt and cleared his throat. “Sit,” he murmured.

Your racing heart threatened to crack your ribs inside your chest as you willed your knees to bend. You lowered yourself cautiously until you were seated between Sebastian’s thighs. But you sat at the very edge of the sofa, terrified to move any closer, and certain the ringing in your ears would leave you deaf.

“It’s okay,” Sebastian murmured in your ear. His breath was hot against the nape of your neck as he hooked an arm around your waist to tug you closer. Your breath hitched when the warmth of his body met yours. His chest pressed against your back. “Alright?”

You nodded in response, terrified to look him in the eye via your reflections. Instead, you stared at the floor as Sebastian began inching the hem of your skirt upward until it was bunched around your torso, exposing everything you had to offer. 

“Fucking hell,” Sebastian breathed against your neck.

When you finally gathered the courage to look in the mirror, you were certain you had tripped and fallen face-first into one of those dreams that you never dared to speak of. There you were, splayed out in the most obscene pose imaginable with Sebastian peering over your shoulder at your sacred pink flesh. You’d never seen something so sinful, and you’d certainly never thought you’d be front and center in such a scene.

Sebastian stared back at you with dark, heavy eyes that might have petrified you had he been anyone else. You could feel his chest heaving against your back, his breaths much more labored than usual. 

You could also feel something that was most certainly not his wand pressing into the small of your back. Arousal seeped from your entrance. You squeezed your eyes shut to steady yourself. 

But a hand roamed to your chest and your eyes shot open as Sebastian unbuttoned the top half of your blouse. 

“Can I… touch you?” he said in your ear. Another nod in response.

Sebastian’s left hand disappeared inside your blouse and you swallowed a moan as his fingers grazed your right nipple. He cupped your breast fully until you had to squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to relieve the pressure between them.

“Hey now,” Sebastian purred, his free hand reaching to pry your knees apart again. “You’re supposed to be watching.”

You bit back the urge to scold him for not doing more, to beg him to touch you in all the ways you’d only envisioned when left to your own thoughts in private. But Sebastian sensed your waning patience. His hand drifted up your leg and you watched the fingers of his reflection trace the crease of your thigh. The slickness pooling at your entrance was a dizzying paradox to the heat that scalded your nerve endings.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes,” you rasped with much more gusto than you’d intended. Your resolve had withered and you weren’t above begging Sebastian to do something, anything to put a stop to your suffering.

“Just… tell me if you want me to stop,” Sebastian said. And before you could beg him to continue, his index and middle fingers skimmed your folds. They met your clit and pressed until a whimper finally escaped your throat.

Sebastian’s fingers swiped gently until you were digging your nails into the tops of your own thighs. The delicious friction was enough to make you wonder if Sebastian really would live up to the hype he’d created for himself. Other boys were good, but this was Sebastian.

As his fingers inched closer to your entrance, you whined and bucked your hips.

“So that’s where you like it,” Sebastian murmured in your ear. “See?”

You hummed in agreement and watched as Sebastian’s fingers pressed more before they finally sank inside of you. You moaned as they disappeared, then reappeared, dipping into your core until you could hear them parting your walls.

You clenched yourself tighter around them, begging them to show you what they could do, while you watched, half-lidded, in awe at the erotic scene that had unfolded. Sebastian’s brow was furrowed in concentration, a vision you would have found endearing had you not been on the cusp of unraveling in his arms. Instead, you merely marveled at the masterpiece framed in the mirror before you; your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as Sebastian's thighs flanked your sides. Now wasn't the time for sentimental discoveries, but you couldn't help but notice how perfectly you fit in front of him.

When Sebastian’s fingers pulled against your front wall, his other hand thumbed your nipple. You gasped at the dual sensations and Sebastian smirked at your reflection. “See? You like that, don’t you?”

When he pulled his fingers from you, you whimpered at the loss of pressure and the sight of your own arousal clinging to him. He groaned at his coated fingers and returned them to your clit. They pressed and prodded until you moaned again. “Right there,” Sebastian said as he ensured your eyes were still watching in the mirror. "See? This is the spot that drives you wild, isn't it?"

More and more pressure, scraping and swiping against that spot you liked; your eyes clinging to the reflection of your swollen cunt as Sebastian’s fingers danced against your flesh, his other hand squeezing your breast. 

"Sebastian, please," you begged.

It all felt far too good to be true.

“I’m going to try something,” Sebastian said in your ear. “It’s going to feel like a lot of pressure. I’ll stop if it gets to be too much, but if you can, try to relax your body, okay?”

“Okay.”

Sebastian’s middle finger sank inside of you and his hand jerked upward in quick, sharp motions, the heel of his palm dabbing against your clit. You heaved a resounding moan and your eyes finally clamped shut. 

Something was happening within your core. You’d felt it before, scraped its surface, but never pierced the barrier. It was a low simmer turned scalding, reaching a rolling boil that begged to breach its confines.

“Relax,” you heard Sebastian command. You exhaled violently, willing the tension and air to vacate your body as your eyes squeezed tighter and your chest caved. And when it did, the mounting pressure in your walls released. You cried out in surprise, stunned at the dizzying pleasure that pulsed through your core as your back arched and thighs quivered. It shocked your body until you were so sensitive, you were gritting your teeth. 

Sebastian’s hand didn’t stop until you did, and when your high finally subsided, you slumped into spineless submission, still whimpering at the foreign feeling between your legs.

When your eyes finally dared to glance toward the mirror, you caught a glimpse of your fucked out reflection, hair plastered to your crimson face while Sebastian stared at you in awe.

You wanted to praise him, worship him at an altar of the utmost holiness; crawl on your knees atop a bed of nails just to prove your gratitude and worth; declare your unwavering devotion to him, a god among mere mortals.

Your religion was Sebastian Sallow and you were the ultimate disciple. 

“I…” You didn’t know why you were bothering to try for words. Nothing you said could restore your dignity – not that you wanted it back. Not after that feeling; that precious jolt of new euphoria. Sebastian had earned his rightful place as God in your eyes.

“Are you alright?” Sebastian asked, still eyeing you in the mirror.

You wished you could fire off some sort of witty response. That was your best defense when left in a vulnerable state, and you’d never felt more vulnerable than in this moment. Hell, you were still slumped against Sebastian with your skirt hiked around your waist while his hand lingered against your soaked entrance. 

The comedown from your climax felt like the worst celebration ever – a birthday party held in a funeral parlor. Your nerves lingered with elation but your brain filled with panic, especially as you realized Sebastian’s hard cock was still pressed into your lower back.

You reached behind your own back for it and heard him hiss when your fingers curled around its outline, still straining against the fabric of his trousers.

“Not tonight, darling,” he said, wrapping his own fingers around your wrist to stop you.

“But-”

“No. Remember our deal?”

“That was hardly a deal,” you said, meeting his gaze in the mirror. Your knees had fallen shut and the front of your blouse was askew, making it difficult for you to take yourself seriously. “It was more of a declaration on your behalf.”

“And it seems my declaration was correct, was it not?”

“Obviously, it was,” you admitted. You were in no state to claim otherwise. Not when you were still panting, your cunt still twitching from the aftermath of your first orgasm that came at the literal hands of Sebastian Sallow. 

Sebastian’s reflection flashed you a proud smirk. You knew he'd likely hold this above you forever. What you didn't know was how eager he was to relieve himself at the memory of you falling apart for the first time around his fingers. He couldn't believe he'd been the one to achieve that honor.

"Then perhaps you can make it up to me some other time,” he said.

“Some other time? You plan on doing this again?” you challenged as you began to button your blouse. 

Finally, that vulnerability you’d been feeling coursed its way into Sebastian. He swallowed and dropped his gaze. “Only if it interests you,” he said, feigning nonchalance with a shrug. “You know, if you still find those other sorry blokes are unable to leave you satisfied.”

"I suppose you're pretty pleased with yourself, aren't you?" you murmured.

"Not nearly as pleased as you, it seems."

You wanted to roll your eyes at him or call him a rude name, but how could you possibly aim any harsh words at the man who had just introduced you to utopia?

Not wanting to appear too eager to linger between his legs, you begrudgingly rose to your feet to adjust your skirt and panties. Sebastian remained seated and you couldn’t help but sneak a glance at the tent in his trousers, which you noted looked much more impressive than Eric Northcott’s. You decided there would absolutely be a next time.

[shyamanuensis]

seeing mutuals in my notes like yes...i'm entertaining the besties

[shyamanuensis]

love & war - sebastian sallow (his pov)

yeah, more male pov's. sorry not sorry. mdni . i think i might have my hl groove back xo

I’m sprawled on the edge of the bed; legs spread, jeans tugged down just a fucking enough and you’re on your knees between them, glancing up at me with eyes filled half with hunger, half with tease and fuck. You’re making me twitch before you even touch me. My shirts still on. Of course it fucking is. Half bunched up around my waist and I’m gripping the bedsheets – knuckles white as snow because I just know what’s about to happen. What’s coming. Me. You smirk, slow and wicked; fingers wrapping around me oh so fucking delicately and ugh, you’re like cool against heat and I can’t help but groan – voice low and rough as you give my cock a lazy pump and there’s already precum beating at the tip. “Fuckkk.” I can barely manage out the curse before your mouth is on me. Warm. Wet. Lips kissing my tip, tongue flicking the slit like a kitten would as you taste me for the first time. God damn –

You make me deeper. No hesitation what so fucking ever. Your throat tightens around me as your head bobs, and you suck a little harder than I expected and my hips jerk towards you chasing the high I know I’m about to be blessed with. I tangle a hand into your hair; not to guide, trust me – just more to hold. The soft, silk like strands slip through my fingers as you work me – sloppy, wanting, messy, there’s saliva dripping down my thighs, pooling on the bed. Jesus Christ. A moan you sound vibrates through me; a jolt straight through the cock and I’m cursing again beneath my breath – head tipping back to smack against the headboard; the dorm blurring.

“Merlin, yes baby girl – just – like – that.”

I watch as your lips stretch around me, cheeks becoming hollow, eyes locked onto my own as if you’re just daring me to lose what little self-control I maintain. You pull off for a second; a gasp escaping you. A loose string of spit connecting your mouth to my cock and fuck, just off the sight I nearly cum right there and then.

“Salazar; you taste good. So fucking hard Sebby…”

Taking a breath before you dive back in; you’re sucking me down to the hilt, tongue swirling, hand pumping what you can’t fit inside your mouth, and I’m fucking done. A grunt. A shallow thrust. I spill hot and thick down your throat, and you keep your gaze locked in on my own as you swallow ever single last fucking drop – smirking around my cock like you know you’ve won.

Yeah.

You have baby.

…but you just wait until I’ve got my tongue on you.

All’s fair in love and war.

[shyamanuensis]

Seriously Tumblr?! FFS. Get your shit together.

UM GUYS. I JUST NOTICED A CRAZY ISSUE W THE TUMBLR UPDATE.

[shyamanuensis]

Me. Reading this first thing in the morning while still in bed. Holllllyyyyyy Salazar. Forgive me Merlin, my day has started with sin 🐍💚🐍💚💀

oneshots | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⊹ ݁˖ Lesson Learned.

Short Summary: An unlocked door to the Restricted Section after curfew turns out to be a trap rather than an invitation. One that you, after all, don’t mind having fallen for.

Warnings: 18+ only! degradation, size kink, marking, Tom Riddle is actually decent at dirty talk?, unprotected p in v, creampie, weird sex position bc I am losing my sanity

A/N: Thesis defense on Monday. Send help.

wordcount: 1,5k

Saturday, 10 pm.

One hour past curfew—a time you’d normally be in your dorm, maybe studying, though more likely sleeping.

However, your routine has changed. It’s been a month or two since you needed a book. One single book to study for Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Curfew this, curfew that—you had never broken a single school rule before, and being pretty certain it was Gryffindor’s turn for patrols in that part of the castle, you figured you’d be let off with nothing but a reprimand if caught anyway. So, you decided to sneak out.

And you were right—until you made it to the library, nothing unusual had happened.

First, you couldn’t believe your luck when an unlocked door to the Restricted Section led you right where you needed to go, so without further hesitation, you took your chance. However, just when you found what you were looking for—footsteps.

Not faint footsteps in some other part of the spacious library—no, heading in your direction, and definitely not far enough to still make a run for it.

Turns out it wasn’t the Gryffindor prefect keeping an eye on the library that night but Slytherin’s.

You sighed.

Tom fucking Riddle.

After scolding you for what felt like hours, he finally concluded with his prefect-catchphrase. “What do you see as an adequate punishment for breaking curfew rules?”

You expected anything—detention, being reported to the headmaster, anything to humiliate you, knowing his ways of dealing with rule breakers.

You expected anything but what he actually wanted from you.

When you didn’t answer, his signature smirk crept onto his lips, the one that you knew oh-too-well. The one he used whenever he got exactly what he wanted.

“On your knees.” He said finally, voice strict and void of any emotion.

An order you, for whatever reason—back then, probably in fear—obliged.

And since then—let’s just say, it’s become a thing.

You and him.

Saturday nights.

The first time was part of his condition not to report you. “Come back next Saturday, and I might just forget about this.”

So you did.

And the Saturday after—out of sheer curiosity—too.

You remember his eyes, flashing faintly in the darkness of the library when he spotted you waiting for him that night—door again left unlocked. Just half a minute later, he had you bent over one of the wooden desks, skirt left pooling at your ankles, panties merely shoved to the side before he slipped inside of you with one singular, quick thrust.

He’s put you into positions you hadn’t even heard about. He fucks fast and carelessly, tightly gripping your hair, thrusting into you as if he has a point to prove.

Then, outside of your little rendezvous, he acts as though he doesn’t even know you. Doesn’t even spare you so much as a glance. He puts on this perfect mask that he wears so casually, the one that makes Tom Riddle seem like just any other student.

But he isn’t just any other student.

You know it.

He knows you know it.

—

Again, you are mindlessly strolling through the dark and empty library, collecting dust on your fingertips as you walk through the many aisles of the Restricted Section. Not particularly looking for anything but rather waiting—waiting for him to bend you over the next best furniture, to maybe even only push you to your knees to suck him off and then leave without another word.

You shouldn’t even fucking enjoy this.

Although, even when he doesn’t seem to prioritize your pleasure, he manages to give back each time. In these few weeks Tom has already learnt how your body works, what you need in order to feel good—and though he would never admit it, you do notice how his brows draw together whenever you clench around him, how he groans ever so quietly when you come undone around him—how your pleasure only heightens his.

Then—

“You are a desperate little slut, aren’t you?”

Your head snaps to the side as you hear a voice—his voice—from behind, torn from your thoughts as you turn to face him.

“Wh—“ you start, originally to complain about his choice of words, desperately trying to deny the feeling building in your lower stomach. But you are cut off by his lips crashing onto yours, stealing your breath away as he captures you in a fiery kiss.

The next second he’s got you pinned between him and the bookshelf behind you, your hands already fumbling with his belt. Tom’s hands meanwhile wander from your waist, giving your ass a firm squeeze that makes you yelp.

Trousers barely past his hips, and he’s closing the gap between the both of you again. You feel him pressed against you—through the fabric of his underwear, already hard and thick, throbbing in anticipation.

“Jump,” he urges, supporting you with his hands on the back of your thighs, helping you wrap your legs around his waist. He’s got you pinned against the bookshelf as he frees himself, eyes briefly locking onto yours, those beautiful, dark brown eyes that you swear have so many stories to tell. But he doesn’t waste time. A gasp falls over your lips as he splits you apart with one rough, harsh thrust, the stretch overwhelming at first—it always is.

“Fuck— you are tight like this—“ he rasps, groaning against your neck as his head dips, allowing you—and probably himself as well—to adjust.

“Not— wasting time today. Got another girl waiting for you already?” You ask half-heartedly, accompanied by a small wince, and although you don’t actually mean it, the words seem to draw his full attention to you.

His eyes darken slightly at your words, lips curling into a possessive grin.

“Just you today, darling.” He replies casually, giving you the slightest thrust. “Jealous?”

“Never— fuck—“

Another thrust—half of his length this time—cuts you off.

���You can take it,” he reassures, gaze briefly dropping to where you are connected. “You’ve always taken me so well.”

And then, he pulls out—almost completely, just to push back inside. You whimper-moan, sign enough for him to keep going—slow at first.

This position makes everything more intense—bodies pressed against each other, though still half-clothed, his cock stretching you in ways you weren’t sure you could handle. You swear he is bigger like this, if even possible—and fuck, the feeling of pain and pleasure slowly bleeding into one has your mind spinning, blanking out.

You cling onto him, nails digging into his robes, ankles locked behind his back as he starts to thrust deeper. He notices you tensing up. Of course he does. Tom notices everything, always. Every little detail. And it fucking infuriates you.

“Shh. I know. Breathe, you have to breathe for me.”

Instead of your usual witty comebacks, you for once follow his command.

Fucking hell.

His lips are all over your neck, sucking marks into your skin that you’d have to cover up for days to come, but you are too far gone to care. Only when you finally relax, walls fluttering around his length, he continues. Fast. Harsh. Unrelenting.

“That’s a good girl. You feel perfect wrapped around me like this, squeezing me so tight.” He murmurs against your lips, breathing heavily as his hips snap against yours, bookshelf creaking behind you as the sharp wooden edges bite into your back.

You can only do so much as nod, your own pleasure building rapidly in the pit of your stomach. His lips are on yours once more as he reaches between the both of you, thumb finding your clit—and you lose it. Every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire, white-hot pleasure coursing through your veins as your climax washes over you—walls clamping down tight around him—so tight that he also doesn’t last much longer.

With a throaty groan, he empties himself inside of you, painting your walls white with his release, hips flush against yours as he wrings out every last ounce of pleasure for the both of you.

Then, silence, apart from a few heavy breaths.

“Don’t your friends miss you?” You ask after a minute, sarcasm evident in your voice, wiping a dark curl from his forehead.

He huffs. “You offer quite acceptable company.”

With that, he helps you to your feet, his length slipping out of you, the sudden emptiness making you hiss.

“Fuck— but we are not— friends, Riddle.”

A smirk decorates his sharp features. “That’s right. You are my little toy, coming back to me despite knowing I am going to fucking ruin this cunt over and over again.”

You roll your eyes as you pull up your skirt. “I fucking hate you.”

He laughs at that. Laughs.

“My dorm, next Saturday, same time.” Tom says, voice back to strict and controlled, his perfect little mask back in place as he turns to leave.

“I am running out of ideas how to fuck you in here.”

thank you so much for reading! <3 feel free to reblog and leave feedback! :3 — masterlist. | oneshots.

©2025 viperify. please do not copy, translate or claim my work as your own.

[shyamanuensis]

vanilla - m.r (his pov)

his pov. bear with me - i'm still getting the hang of the male mind. smut. mdni. xoxo

Jesus fucking Christ. You’re so god damn pretty. Like, am I even worthy of being in the same universe as you? Hell no. Just. Fuck. You smell like vanilla. It’s beautiful. Vanilla and whatever alcohol it is you’ve been sipping on for the better half of the night… vodka? Gin perhaps? It’s something fruity. A berry. Sweet. I can almost taste it on your skin and it’s delicious and so are you and ugh! Stop. Just. Bear with me. For whatever ungodly reason, which trust me – I’m not complaining about; you’ve got a leg on either side of my own, your nails are clawing through my shirt down my chest and fuckkk.. if you kiss my neck one more God damn time, I swear, I’ll lose all fucking self-control. Not that you wouldn’t want me to. Trust me.

I can hear the whispers murmured throughout the party coming from lips which seem to only talk in rumours and I’m relieved that finally – finally; you’ve agreed to take this somewhere a little more private. Fingers intertwined with yours, I let you lead the both of us through the chaotic mess of drunken students who are grinding against other on the dance floor towards my dorm after mentioning something about your roommate being busy in your room tonight and I’ll be honest – my mind stopped functioning the minute your hand met mine. Tie off and hung around the door handle; it’s the wizarding world’s version of a scrunchie on display and before I can register what’s happening, our shoes, your shirt and skirt at my jeans have already fallen, discarded to the floor.

Fingers knotting into your hair, we continue our affections from earlier and I’m wondering what you might look underneath me; vulnerable, dangerous, irresistible. It’s something that I’ve dreamt about for weeks. Something that’s kept me up at night. Something that’s had me not be able to leave my seat during classes but right now, I’m trying to focus on getting rid of that teasingly fucking cute lace set you’ve got on but… no – oh no --- my back hits the bed and before I know it my boxers are down, and you’ve found my cock and -----

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe.

.

.

After what feels like a minute but is probably more like 4 seconds a breath kicks in with a gasp and my eyes roll back before they shut blissfully. I go to say something but that warm tongue of yours against my tip has me seeing stars and just. Fuck. It’s like I’m lying in a never-ending daydream. Every single little groan and suck sends my heart racing. That pathetic little moan and choking sound you make almost has me come undone then and there and I just want to make you feel good but before I can you’ve straddled me again and now, I’m warm and you’re incredible and I’m incoherent and I don’t know what’s happening, but it feels so, so fucking good. Good isn’t even the right word. Tight? Wet? So fucking wonderful.

I try to rest my hands at your hips, but you move them up to grab and hold at your chest and the way your back arches is perfection. You’re soft. Not that I would have expected otherwise. You’re not lines, your curves. Your hands still over my own you begin to massage your breasts, and I swear this moment isn’t fucking real and that I’ll wake up soon but no. No. You rock your hips against my own and my temperature begins to rise. A sweat drawing across my brows and down my neck and then out of nowhere you push my hands down to pin them above my head by the wrists and those gorgeous fucking tits are right there in my face and I’m eager to please.

Tongue drawing a teasing line across the nip, I notice how that makes you slam your hips down against my own with a quiver and quietly growled ‘fuck’ into my shoulder and I don’t think I’ll be able to last much longer. Sex is different when you don’t have to take control and sweetheart – right now I’m happy to be used for your greater good. Letting go of my wrists you rest your palms against my chest, and I can feel you clenching around me as I listen to your stutters and moans that sound like the symphonies of an angel and mind goes blank. Bliss. Heaven isn’t a real place. No – it’s your pussy and fuck, even though we are, you make me not want to fucking sin. A dozen Hail Mary’s and a Glory Be and I’m happy to reconcile a thousand times over with confessions of how I’m feeling right now. You’re so warm. God you’re so fucking warm. I can feel that familiar twitch and then ecstasy. It’s like it’s hard to breathe again.

You giggle. I smirk. You’re tired. Without thinking I reach up and brush some hair from your eyes, tucking it neatly behind your ear before my fingers trace along you cheek and you tilt your head, tongue poking out to chase my thumb and you’re so beautiful. For the love of merlin, so… so beautiful. It’s almost a shame your boyfriend wasn’t paying you the attention you merit this evening. I almost feel bad that I even suggested this. Almost. He doesn’t fucking deserve you. Cunt. I’d treat you so much better.

.

.

.

Kisses are so underrated. Yours I could melt into for eternity, and I’ve finally figured it out. Strawberries. You smell like vanilla and taste like strawberries and I’m slowly becoming addicted even though I should know better. You nip at my bottom lip and still have those ‘come to bed’ eyes which I’ve clearly already fallen for that are playing a number of my mental health right now. Goddamn I want to keep you here forever. To be mine. Only. You whisper something about needing to leave and I ask you to stay. Your gaze glimmers down – susceptible. Vulnerability exposed. I quickly assure you that it’s just for tonight. That I want the opportunity to make you feel as good as you just made me feel but shit. You’ll be the first thing I think about every morning and my last thought every night and I really think we should turn this from just a once off to a more permanent thing and eventually I’ll fall for you. Head over heels. Cock between tits. Quit your boyfriend and stay with me. It’ll be worth your while. Trust me.

[shyamanuensis]

what do people want to read? i feel guilty just delving into my own personal wants and pleasures - buttttt.. because i feel like challenging myself; i'm happy to write outside of my usual comfort zone anyone has ideas.

better still; if anyone ever wants to chat - i promise i don't bite xo

[shyamanuensis]

girls be like "i know a spot" and then keep you in their hearts forever

[shyamanuensis]

dorms - t.n

short; like sub 400 words. cheating. oral. best friends bed. fuck it. mdni xo

You’re lounging lazily on Mattheo’s bed; his girlfriend by claim and nothing more. Your skirt is riding up your thighs as you play on your phone, skin still tingling from how he had his hands on you last night. Usually the dorm is spiced with Mattheo’s cologne but right now, all you can smell is the faint must of Theo’s aftershave and fuck. It’s making your head spin. Mattheo’s out tonight – on some late-night errand run with Draco, leaving you here in a cozy clutter of laundry he’s yet to put away and piles of unread books. Across the room, Theo stretches out on his bed; all lean lines and lazy smirks which you know all too well. The two of you have danced around this little tease before.

“I bet Mattheo doesn’t know how hot you look when he’s not around huh?” Theo’s murmur is low – his voice smooth. He tosses the lighter he’s been playing with to the end of the bed before he sits up; gaze tracing from your ankles up your legs; all the way to your lips making you roll your eyes, but you can’t deny the warm flush that’s creeping up your neck. “Bet he’d be fucking jealous if he knew...” Before you know it, Theo’s crossed the space to make himself comfortable between your thighs; his grin wild, a soft hand to your chest easing you back onto Mattheo’s sheets and the best you can do to combat the situation is simply give in. Shit like this just isn’t worth fighting.

His chuckles are warm, rich; playful. You bite your lip and warn Theo to stop teasing; but quicker than you expect his fingers slip around the waist band of your panties and they’re sliding down your knees with a simple tug. You gasp as his breath works hot and high up the inside of your thighs, encouraging your back to arch as his mouth presses onto you; tongue teasing your clit with the lightest of flicks. You claw at the sheets and whimper that you need more, and Theo’s oh so fucking happy to oblige. He likes nothing more than when you’re screaming, and Mattheo’s bed starts creaking beneath you. It’s wrong. Fuck they’re best friends. You however don’t care because you’re too damn lost in how fucking good his tongue feels.

[shyamanuensis]

haaaiiiiiiii amber! off of discord. requesting enzo locker room sex pretty plz xxoxo

I knew this ask was about to come off the group chat I just had. I'm not great with writing Enzo so; go easy on me. Tagging @belovedenzo who may be able to write you something better xo

You're bent over a bench in the locker rooms; Draco's scarf hanging loosely around your neck. You're his girlfriend, the perfect little trophy; but right now, Enzo's fucking you raw, his quidditch gear rattling with each savage thrust. Your skirts bunched up high around your waist, panties snagged down around your ankles and his cock - fuck, thick and greedy, splitting you open as you dig your nails into the benches wood; moaning loud and shamelessly. It has started as a fucking bet. A dare. Could Enzo get you off quicker than Draco could make it out of the shower? Turns out - yeah, he fucking can. "Malfoy would fucking kill me for this.." His voice is lined with lust as his hands spread you wider as he slams in deeper. Not wanting to waste time. Your tits have jolted free from your bra tucked under your shirt, swaying with every hit you take. Your soaked, the countdown on to finish before your boyfriend returns and Lorenzo manages a groan of the words, "Look at you - fucking taking me so well like this", before his pace turns frantic; shattering you as a scream gets muffled by the knuckle that you're biting harshly down on and he cums inside of you. Hot. Reckless. His lips forming a smirk like he may have just stolen you from Draco for good.

[shyamanuensis]

party - slytherin boys

You should have stopped yourself; tossed your phone into your top bedside table drawer and locked it – throwing away the key but you didn’t. Rookie mistake. You’re now four drinks down at a party in the Astronomy Tower and all the couples hooking up around you are making you itch. You want some attention. You’re craving some satisfaction, so you text him. Your ex. The one you swore off like a bad vice, making yourself a promise that life would be better off without him. Honestly. So far it has been. But when you see your best friend making out with some Ravenclaw she’s just met and his hands are firm on her waist and he’s got her tilted up against him in some perfect fanfiction kind of angle, your dignity snaps. You need something familiar, something warm, something that will get the job done because you’re aware that your fingers and toys won’t do tonight and the next thing you know you’ve met up with him in the corridor outside your dorm and you can’t think straight. He’s quick to smirk. He’s been waiting for you to crawl back to him for months now. His eyes glint victorious and yours glimmer wanting and without saying a single word your lips find his and you become further intoxicated on his taste that you’ve missed. Your breath hitches higher than he’s managed to lift your skirt and your hands drop to his waist; unbuckling his belt as that customary clink rings in your ears complimented by the way he growls your name lowly into the crook of your neck and before you know it your blouse is off, his jeans tugged down, your underwear pushed to the side and his fingers slip inside taking control of the pleasure and ecstasy that you’ve been seeking. You’re resting up against the inside of your dorm door, knees week but he’s managing to keep you stable. Barely. He whispers a commanding ‘jump’ and you oblige, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist and the two of you crash into the vanity unit, your desk, the bed, hit the floor; he rolls you over so that he’s on top and nips eagerly at your collarbone as he slides the pretty thin straps off your shoulders to expose more of your perfect curves he’s missed oh so fucking much. His hips grinding against you make you feel weak, but you’ve got enough strength in you to claw your nails down his back and each thrust he pounds into you makes your legs shake. Your lips quiver. Your body tremble and you hate yourself at how he still fits perfectly against you. One of his hands snakes up to knot into your hair and the other slaps your ass with a sting as he murmurs into the valley of your chest that you’re his tonight and you confess with a whimper that you know. He calls you a good girl as he chokes you and you start seeing white and before you know it he’s hauled you into the ensuite to fuck you from behind in front of the mirror so that you get a glimpse of the pathetic mess that he’s created – lips swollen, hair sticking to your face, a light sheen of sweat coating your skin. He bites hard into your shoulder, and you feel his chest against your back and you can tell from the groans he pants that he’s close, but you don’t want him to be. That’ll mean this is over. You drop your hand to find your clit but he gets almost jealous that you’re trying to touch yourself, so he smacks it away, this thumb drawing the perfect kind of lazy circles as he begins to spell out your nickname and it becomes too much. You tremble, you quiver, you shake, you writher; you have a hand up against the mirror to hold yourself up when it becomes to much and his fingers dig deep into the softness of your hips which will bruise up immediately and stay purple for weeks and this all wouldn’t have happened if you just left your fucking phone alone before you went to that party. You got what you wanted though – attention. He got what he wanted – you. That first orgasm hits and you cry out his name like it’s some kind of prayer you need to reconcile with knowing that this won’t be the only time tonight you say it. Hell. He’ll take you again and again until the sun rises in the morning.

this kind of just came out of nowhere in the last 15 minutes. was originally written with sebastian sallow in mind; but let me be honest, it changed half way through to tom riddle and ended with theodore nott so i guess; whatever slytherguy you want take the perspective of xo

[shyamanuensis]

witches & style

[shyamanuensis]

what they say in the bedroom - slytherin boys

♡ “You look so fucking good like this baby girl – spread out deliciously just for me.” ♡ “Seriously, I could spend all night tasting you, but I really don’t think you’d last that long.” ♡ “I wanna hear you beg dollface – tell me how much you fucking want it.” ♡ “You’re mine tonight, all fucking mine. I’m not stopping until your legs are fucking shaking.” ♡ “Salazar, the sounds you make drive me fucking insane…” ♡ “You’re so wet for me already. Did I just do that or have you been thinking about me all fucking day?” ♡ “Don’t cover your mouth princess; I want the whole fucking castle to know what we’re doing.” ♡ “Your bodies telling me yes baby girl, but I need you to say it. C’mon… use your words for me.” ♡ “So fucking beautiful when you lose control baby…” ♡ “I’ve been thinking about bending you over this fucking desk since you walked into the classroom love.” ♡ “Fuck, so tight. It’s like your pussy wants to keep me here forever.” ♡ “You’re so god damn beautiful beneath me. Best fucking view.” ♡ “Holy shit, I love how you respond to me.” ♡ “Ugh your mouth feels so fucking warm wrapped around me.” ♡ “Don’t hold back baby. I wanna see you lose control.” ♡ “You’re mine to fuck however the hell I want..” ♡ “Beg for it, or I’ll leave you dripping and desperate. Your choice babe.” ♡ “I need to hear you whimper. Need to hear you cry out my name.” ♡ “Needy little fucking slut, aren’t you?” ♡ “Don’t you dare fucking test my patience. You’re going to take it and thank me when we’re fucking done.” ♡ “Scream all you want baby; no one is going to fucking save you.” ♡ “Fight me love – it’s only going to make me pin you down and fuck you harder.” ♡ “Say my name or I’ll carve it into your skin with my teeth.” ♡ “Feel that in you? Yeah, that’s me rewriting you. Erasing every other fucking guy so that’s just me.” ♡ “Your drenched for me baby. Admit it; you’ve been craving my cock since potions this morning.” ♡ “Think you can tease me all fucking day and not pay for it? Get on your knees now princess; I’m done waiting.” ♡ “You’ve been a brat all fucking week. Time to bend over my lap and let me teach you whose in fucking charge.” ♡ “Strip baby girl – or I’ll do it fucking for you.” ♡ “Think you’re never now, don’t you? Let’s see how smart you feel when I’ve got you begging.” ♡ “Aw, you’re just a baby snake trying to slither under my skin; but don’t worry, I’ll have you withering for me instead my girl.” ♡ “Crawl to me doll or I’ll make you regret what I ask next.” ♡ “Don’t get attached baby girl – this is for one night only but I’ll fuck you like it’s your last.” ♡ “Well aren’t you a pretty little fucking distraction?” ♡ “Princess, you’re just a body for me tonight. Spread wider yeah? Let me use you properly.” ♡ “This tongue is a one-time gift girl – I’m going to fucking ruin you with it.” ♡ “You know what happens when you try to hide that pussy away from me…” ♡ “Look at me. I want those pretty eyes focused when I make you mine.” ♡ “Wrap your legs around me so that I can fuck you till you’re numb.”

pretty sfw for something nsfw. hope you enjoy xo