illusionly

[illusionly]

ᰋ✦ ١٢٧ ूੂ ⃛͡ ຶ⵿ ⠀ ♬ ೃ࿔ ୨꒰✿⃨. . ꛒ⊃✟

𓐩 𓊑ㅤ ♥︎̼̻♥︎̼̻♥︎̼̻ ㅤ‘ 𝓐𝓶𝓸𝓮𝓫𝓪. ̩̩͙༑𓈒̩̩͙༑𓈒̩̩͙ ㅤ༩ᭊㅤ♡⃟

*:･ 𒋲 ᳜⡴ 𓉳̸  ➁➁➁ ʕ·͡ˑ·ཻʕ·͡ˑ·ཻʔ­ ྀ

⃛͡ †⏝ིི᭨ ྀ ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈ )ʃƪ(ᐡ꒳ᐡ Ꮚᵕ̣̣̣̣̣ ہ ᵕ̣̣̣̣̣̣ Ꮚ ⠀ ̩͙﹡ ̩͙﹡ ̩͙﹡

❀ ✿ ིུ͠⠀ ࿀࿁ ✿𝆬՞๑￫ܫ￩՞꒱ა 𓋈 ᩳ˕ ᩳ

´𖥨᩠ׄ݁။ ²₂² 🚬 ʢ-̫͡-ʔ͏ * ͚❤︎‧̥˚̩̩̥·‧̥·̊‧̥✿‧̥˚̩̩̥·‧̥·̊‧̥❤︎‧̥

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆. 🪼 ᣟ݂ ✩͏ ❤︎ ⋆ ₊˚ ✿﮾᳜⡴ h͟e͟a͟r͟t͟a͟c͟h͟e͟

̩͙ᩙ •́ ᎔ ก̀ ྀᖭ༏ᖫི. ५ ◜ᵕ◝ ྀི ㅤ ͚⠀ ♬ᬊ᭢˚̣̣̣͙͏ ૮꒰ྀི ៸៸ ꒱

✿᪶ᛌ ⠞𒈔ାୁ. ݂ ໋ ・ ゜* 𓈒 美人

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

[illusionly]

𝓢 y m b o l s

─────────────────

` ִ ☆゙ ۫ 🦷̶ ֶָ ࣪ ׅ 言 ʾʿ ›‹

ก ࣪ ۪ 𝒜ᱹ ֢ 🦢̼ࣳ 𖧧 ִ ࣪ ⋆ ٫٫

𝐘ᱹ 🥛᪶ ࣪ ָ 𖦹 ۪ ࣪ ִ さ 𝇃𝇂 ˒ ˓

我 ⸼ ࣪ ✿◌ ۪ 𖥁̵ ࣪ ִ ⩇⩇ ᭡ 🗯̷̸

↺ ࣪ ۪ ♡ᱹ ʾʿ ⬞ 🐇̱ ꩜ ۫ ָ֢ ⬫ ܻ`

김⠀ ⠀݃⠀ ✣ ⠀۪⠀ ⠀ ⠀ׅ ⠀ ꒰੭

⠀⠀ᜊ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ᘞ⠀ ⠀۪⠀ ⠀ ⬭ ⠀ 𝅄⠀ ⠀ 🎐⠀ ⠀࣪⠀

⠀⠀🫶🏻⠀ ⠀𓈒 ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ׁ⠀ 잃⠀ ⠀⋅⠀ 𖣁⠀⠀

⠀⠀◌⃘⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𑂴⠀ ⠀ᘏᘏ⠀⠀⠀⭒ ⠀⠀ ✄⠀ ⠀ᨳ⠀⠀⠀ﾟ

⠀⠀𑄝 ⠀ ⠀̫⠀ ☾⠀ ⠀ׁ ⠀ 🦢 ⠀ 𓈒⠀⠀ ꪆ◌

੭୧ ๑⠀⠀ ⠀꒰੭ ﾟ ⋅ Ꮚ

¿ ੭ 𓈒 ♡ ꪆ୧ 𝟷𝟷𝟷 ⑅ ⃘ ᨳ ꒰ ۪ ꒱ 𓈒

ꙕ ♡ ◠⠀⠀ . ⠀ﾟ

♡ ﾟ ◠ ੭ ✽ ۪ ⊹

꒰੭ ︒ 𓈒   ೀ     ꒱

 ᘝ ⠀ ᮫   ಎ ⊹ ✿

ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 ! =͟͟͞⚝ ᕱ ౨ৎ ᕱ

ꪆ୧ ᘓ︵ꪒ⑅ꪒ   𐬹 ۫ ۪ ᩍ 

๘♡ಎ ᑭ⍵᷼𝗍𝗍᷼ყ ꒰ ⑅ ๑ ᱁_᱁ ꒱

୨୧꯭ ⟡ ⌢ . ̶͟͞

﹏͚̈̈ ૮Ꮚ ♡' ᨳ࣪ 𓈒

[illusionly]

𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚝,

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏𝚐𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝 ྇݁🥝🪷 ͏ ິํ้ꕥ

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏我希望你能坚持下去 🩷ᅟີ͙̣͙◌⃘࣭ٜ࣪࣪࣪۬ ˳༚༅༚

[illusionly]

ⓘ⠀ 15₩ !!! 爱确实会杀人，但它让你呼吸

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

[illusionly]

unraveled.

— caleb is a wolf, wild and angry and needing to devour everything in his path, but for you? he folds his ears back and cages his teeth behind bitten lips.

— puppy play, use of "ma'am / mistress" as a title, edging, mindbreak, footjob, dry humping, body worship. mean-ish femdom tease reader / manipulative forced sub caleb kinda but you are both #CRAZY so it does not matter. this is very different from what i usually write about i triiiieeeeed 💔

Never could you have imagined your childhood best friend—your Caleb—reduced to this. Bent low, rutting against your foot, eyes glistening with unshed tears as he clings to you like a man drowning. His breath hitches, every exhale a shaky plea and every syllable strung tight with desperation.

"Ma’am, please," he whines, voice frayed at the edges. "Mercy, just a little- I’m-"

He’s been begging for so long now, left to suffer under the slow, unbearable grind of your foot against his cock. The flimsy grey shorts he wears do nothing to hide the outline of his length and how it throbs beneath your touch. There’s a dark, wet patch on the fabric where his precum is seeping through, proof of just how far you’ve pushed him.

He swallows hard, throat working against the sob lodged inside. "I’ll be good," he tries. "The best puppy there is. Just-" A shudder rolls through him, knocking the breath from his lungs. "Please?"

Shame burns high on Caleb’s cheeks, but his body betrays him. His thighs are quivering, his hips twitching—helpless, needy and grinding forward like he has no control over himself. He’s trembling, panting through parted lips, desperate sounds spilling free before he can even think to swallow them down.

"Anything," he chokes out. "I’ll give anything, take anything—just, please."

Oh, you know that. You know how much he’ll endure, how much he’ll let you bend him before he breaks. He would lose himself for you. He would trade his dignity, his sanity, just for the promise of more. If only you’d let him. If only you’d be generous. If only-

But you wait.

You watch.

Every second stretches, thick and unbearable, and you see him fraying at the seams. His breath hitches and his fingers twitch, clawing at nothing. His muscles are locked up, fighting the desperate urge to reach, to take, to claim. But he wouldn’t. Not without your approval.

Caleb’s body moves before his mind catches up, swaying forward, drawn to you like a moth to a flame, aching for the warmth he knows only you can grant him. But just before he crosses that line—just before he dares, you move first.

Your reach for him, your fingers delicately tracing the outline of his jaw. He goes rigid, a sharp gasp caught in his lungs. And then, like instinct, like worship—he nuzzles into your touch, breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts.

"You’re shaking," you murmur, thumbing over his flushed cheek. A slow, amused smile tugs at your lips. "Are you really this desperate, Caleb?"

His head jerks in a frantic nod, a strangled noise rising from his throat. His pupils are blown wide and his breath comes in short, uneven bursts. "I am, yes, I am-”

Your fingers drift lower, ghosting down his throat, his adam’s apple bobbing beneath your touch. His pulse is hammering under his skin and his body burning up, melting into every bit of contact like he’d fall apart without it. And he would fall apart without it.

But then—

You pull away.

His reaction is instant. He jerks forward before he can stop himself, a strangled whimper escaping before he can bite it back. But he stops himself right before he touches you, instinct warring with obedience. He knows better than to take without being given.

And that control—his restraint, more than anything, is what keeps you entertained. The sight of the Colonel, wrecked and on the verge of breaking, sends a thrill curling through your body. Yet you only hum, sighing as if you were bored, as if his suffering wasn’t the most intoxicating sight you’ve ever witnessed.

The heat simmering in you darkens, twisting into something deeper, something dangerous for the both of you. A morbid curiosity forms: just how far could you push him before he snaps?

"So…" you muse, tilting your head, feigning thoughtfulness. "You’ll take whatever I give you?"

"Anything, ma’am," he replies without hesitation.

Amused, you chuckle softly, tilting your head as if considering it. Here he is, hanging off your every word, completely at your mercy, willing to do anything for just a sliver of your attention. And just when his breath catches, just when he’s right on the edge of breaking-

You lean in.

Leaning closer, you drink in the sight of him—the unraveling need, the way his chest rises and falls in shallow bursts. You draw a gasp from his throat as your breath ghosts over his skin, his lashes fluttering, lips parting on instinct.

"Reward?" your voice is velvet and steel, soothing and binding him all at once. "And what, exactly, does my good boy think he deserves?"

He stills. You see the moment the question sinks in, the way his mind races to find the right answer, the answer that will please you most. His whole body locks up, his hips stopping, his movements going rigid with obedience. "I want- Please let me- Please let me get off to you, Ma’am- Please, please, I- I've been so good, haven’t I?"

To punctuate the plea, he shifts closer, tilting his head slightly to bare his throat, showing you the claim you left on his shoulder earlier. On his skin is a deep red hickey, an unspoken declaration of ownership. A mark of your control. Of what he lets you, and only you do to him. 

Your breath catches, your grip on his chin tightening. Your playful edge dulls into something sharper, something darker—something that twists in your gut, matching the raw, helpless hunger gripping his body.

"And how," you murmur, thumb tracing his lower lip, "does my puppy want to get off?"

His breath stutters.

He knows you know what he wants, knows you’re forcing him to say it. Knows you won’t make this easy for him.

Frustration flashes in his eyes, but he swallows it down, schooling his features into something softer, something needier. Something he knows you won’t be able to resist. A few more pathetic gasps spill past his lips, each one measured to push you closer to giving him what he’s been begging for. His voice trembles, perfectly frayed at the edges, knowing that this will be the undoing for you both.

"Please, I want- I want to rub myself against my mistress’s panties…?"

The hesitation in his words is deliberate, the breathy edge to his voice sharpened just enough to slice through your restraint. He tilts his head just a tad more, the mark on his neck like an offering, his lashes fluttering to give off the look of being lost in submission. 

He’s waiting. Waiting for you to give in.

Yet it’s only thick, unbearable silence that stretches between you once more, suffocating his patience.

His cock twitches at the suspension, a sharp pulse of need that sends heat curling down his spine. Every second you make him wait is agony, his body screaming at him to move. His instincts beg him to take, to claim, to fucking have you.

But he doesn’t.

He kneels. He obeys. He waits.

And fuck, if he weren’t so well-trained, he would’ve already had you under him. Would’ve already-

But he doesn’t. He stays still. He bows his head, pressing his forehead to your knee like a supplicant at an altar, forcing himself into the shape you’ve carved him into.

He chooses to be good.

And that is the thrill of it all.

Entertained, your fingers drift along his jaw, barely there. He exhales sharply, his whole body shuddering under your touch. “Hm… is that really what you want, puppy?”

"Yes," he whines—too fast, too eager, and too fucking wrecked to care.

You drag it out, humming, letting the tension coil tighter. “Or, is that what you think I want to hear?”

He stills. And for the briefest second, you see it—the flicker of a dangerous, untamed wolf.

And then just as quickly, he swallows it down. Shoves it away. Forces himself to be what you’ve trained him to be. To what he’s trained himself to be.

But you see it.

And you want it.

So you smile—slow, sharp—and lean in again. Close enough that he freezes. Close enough that your breath grazes his lips, close enough that his whole body locks in anticipation-

And then, you pull away.

The sound he makes is devastating. A raw, half-snarl, half-plea, his fingers digging into his thighs, fighting not to just break.

You coo at his display, your voice syrupy-sweet. “Such a good boy,” you purr, watching him shiver from the praise and restraint. “Holding yourself back so well.”

He clenches his jaw, his shoulders wound as tight as a bowstring. He knows you’re toying with him. Knows you want him to snap.

And god, he wants to. If only he were to tear through the last fraying threads of control. To devour you whole.

But before he can spiral further, you give him relief. He chokes on a gasp as your foot presses down harder against his cock, the pressure forcing his back to arch, his body keeling over and his chin dropping onto your knee. Any words he tries to form dissolve into moans, ragged and broken, as you slip your foot beneath his waistband, rubbing him through his boxers.

His fingers dig harshly into his thighs, blunt nails leaving half-moon crescents in his skin. But it’s the only thing keeping him from losing himself completely. His breath is shallow and unsteady, his whole body trembling, every fiber of him clenched, drawn so tight you can almost hear the tension hum.

You press again, and a strangled sob is torn from his throat as he lurches forward, too overwhelmed to keep himself upright. His forehead presses into your thigh, letting out short, desperate gasps against your skin. The scent of his need clings to the air, thick and intoxicating, and you inhale slowly, savoring the way he crumbles beneath you.

“Oh, look at you,” you murmur, amusement laced with control. “Just falling apart.”

“Poor puppy.” You shift your foot, just enough to make him jolt, to draw out a broken whimper. His thighs clench, his hips jerking helplessly into the teasing press of your sole. You watch his face contort, his jaw tightening, failing to hold onto the last scraps of his composure. As if he isn’t already beyond salvation.

“You’re drooling, Caleb.” Your voice is almost pitying, as if you don’t revel in the way his resolve is splintering.

It’s unbearable. You’re unbearable.

And you know it.

He lets out an unintelligible sound, and your foot presses down harder, sending him keening. His body jerks and ruts into the pressure, his boxers damp and clinging to his cock.

He’s panting, his whole body trembling, and yet still—still, he waits for you to let him fall.

“Please, Ma’am,” he chokes out, voice cracked and thin. His fists clench, the last of his restraint hanging by a thread. “I can’t- I need-”

You tilt his head back with a slow tug of his hair, drinking in the sight of him—his glassy, ruined eyes, the flush burning up his throat, the raw, hopeless hunger etched into his face.

And then you sigh. Soft. Dismissive.

Caleb flinches.

“Hm. And here I thought you were my good boy.” Your nails scrape lightly against his scalp, a ghost of affection before your grip tightens, forcing his head still. “But look at you. Making such a mess. Being so sloppy.”

Panic quickly overtakes his dazed expression. “No, no, I-” His throat bobs as he swallows, hard. “I am good, I swear, I-”

“Are you?” Your voice is measured, cool, watching the way he twists in the silence, watching how his desperation coils tighter at the lingering disappointment in your tone.

He hates this.

Hates when you doubt him.

Hates being anything less than perfect for you

His lips part, searching, pleading. “Please,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “Please let me prove it.”

And that’s what you were waiting for. That’s why you let him dangle, why you let him crack without letting him shatter.

Because now, he’s exactly where you want him.

Desperate. Submissive. Willing to do anything.

And that—that is what you wanted.

Your fingers ease, smoothing over his cheek, and the sheer relief in his expression sends a thrill to your core. You tilt your head, letting a slow, satisfied smile spread across your lips as you revel in the moment. His desperate need is palpable, and you want to draw it out, savor it.

“If you want to prove it,” you hum, dragging your foot away, “then show me.”

Caleb's eyes widen, a flash of excitement breaking through his haze of desperation. You lean back slightly, letting your foot slip off his cock, and that’s the only cue he needs—he scrambles off the floor, caging you between your arms as he shifts closer, pressing his body against yours.

You’re trapped beneath his figure, his weight pressing you into the mattress, yet the desire in his eyes doesn’t phase you. No, not one bit. Not when your hunger matches his, pulse for pulse, breath for breath.

A shudder rips through him as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, breath hot and uneven, tinged with reverence. His body is flush against yours, muscles trembling as he fights to pace himself, to stray from losing control the second he finally has you beneath him.

"Thank you," he whimpers, a prayer against your skin. His lips brush over your pulse, lingering just enough to make you shiver. "Thank you, Ma’am."

His shorts and boxers are discarded to a far corner of the room, leaving him bare against you, his cock pressed flush to the cool silk of your lingerie. Precum smears across the fabric, darkening it with every shallow grind of his hips. The friction is light, teasing—but even that has him shaking. His fingers fist the sheets, muscles locking as he bars himself from losing himself too quickly.

You feel his restraint in every shuddering breath, every stifled moan, the way he fights to take only what he’s given. His forehead rests against yours, your breaths mingling, desire spilling from his parted lips as he moves again, pressing himself against you.

"I-" His voice is wrecked, thick with pleasure and gratitude. His hips roll again, slow, deliberate, rubbing himself against the soft lace stretched over your cunt. He chases your heat like it’s the only thing keeping him sane, savoring every inch of contact. "Feels so good-"

Your fingers trace a slow path down his side, and he whimpers. Even with his body caging yours, it feels like you’re the one pulling the leash wrapped tight around his neck.

"Puppy…you like this, don’t you?" The question is smooth. Knowing.

His whole body jolts, rhythm faltering as another wave of pleasure wracks through him. The words spill from him instantly, raw and full of desire. "Yes, fuck- I do, Ma’am-" His grip on the sheets tighten, his knuckles turning white from the sheer effort of holding himself together, to not fuck into you, to not rip off your panties and sink into your tight heat.

A hot rush of tears gathers in his eyes, his mind spinning further into need. His body moves on its own, grinding deeper, chasing anything that will push him over the edge. His fingers dig into your waist, pulling you closer, as if that will save him.

His pupils are blown wide, the wildness in his gaze unmistakable. He’s right there, teetering, ready to break.

But you don’t move. You let him unravel, let him drown. Every shudder, every desperate twitch, every broken sound is for you. And he knows it.

"Ma’am," he whines, his voice cracking as his rhythm stutters. “I want to- I want to- Please let me-”

Your body responds, heat coiling tight as his breath hitches against you. "Good boy," you murmur, and the way he shudders at the praise sends a sharp pulse of desire straight to your core. “Hm…is my puppy gonna cum so fast?”

“I am,” he cries, a fervent mantra that spills from his lips, hips rocking in that shaky rhythm as he feels you overtake his senses. “Can- May I?”

You hum, dragging your nails down his back, feeling the way his muscles jerk beneath your touch. His breath hitches, a broken moan slipping free, his entire body locked tight with need.

"You may," you purr, your voice dripping with satisfaction. "If you can do it like a good boy—without making a mess."

A sob catches in his throat, his hips stuttering mid-grind as his mind scrambles to process the command. "I- I can, I will- fuck-" His fingers dig harder into your waist, his whole body trembling as he desperately chases his release without breaking the rules you've set.

Every motion is torturous, pleasure crackling through his nerves like a live wire. His cock throbs, aching as he ruts against the silk, the damp fabric dragging against his sensitive length in a way that has him pleading through the choked-off moans spilling past his lips.

"Ma’am, please, please-" His voice is thin, broken apart by desperate little hiccups of pleasure. "I‘m so close, fuck, so close, please-"

His entire face presses against yours, his damp lashes fluttering, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. His grip on the sheets is nearly murderous, his body thrumming with the promise of release.

And then—he breaks.

A strangled sob rips from his throat as his hips jerk forward, his cock pulsing against the silk, the sheer force of his orgasm wracking through him. His whole body tenses then trembles as he spills, soaking through the fabric, painting your lingerie with thick, hot spurts of cum. 

You decide to place a hand on the head of his cock, and he shatters all over again as you squeeze, hot tears flowing down his face as he’s sent careening into cloud 9. More cum shoots out of his cock, this time reaching your stomach and tits, your skin stained with his fluids.

His moans turn into soft whines, body twitching with aftershocks as he clings to you, burying his face against your neck, panting raggedly.

You let him catch his breath and settle for just a moment. Then—your fingers fist in his hair, yanking his head back to meet his bleary, wrecked gaze. He fucking yelps, his cheeks streaked with tears as he blubbers over his words.

“M-Miss, I- I-It’s hngh-! too- too good, I-I-” His voice is high, cracking between sobs as he trembles under your grasp. His body is still shuddering from the aftershocks, his cock still hard and throbbing against the soaked silk separating you.

You click your tongue, tilting your head as you drink in the flushed, ruined sight of him, struggling to piece himself together when you both know he's already fallen apart.

"Too good?" you echo, mock sympathy curling around the words. Your grip tightens, nails digging into his scalp just enough to make him wince. "You made such a mess. And here I was, thinking you could be good for me."

Caleb lets out a soft, broken whimper, the humiliation sparking something deeper in his dazed, pleasure-drunk mind. “I- I’m sorry, I…I can be good, I promise-  I-I’ll be better the next time-"

"Next time?" you repeat, your voice low and dangerous as you squeeze his cock again, enough to make him jolt, his body writhing from the overload of sensations. "Who says I'll let you have a next time?"

The words hang heavy between you, and Caleb’s eyes widen, a sob escaping him as he scrambles for your forgiveness. He shakes his head, pressing himself closer to you as if he can beg with his body as much as with his words. "No, no Miss- Please, I’m sorry! I’ll do better- I’ll be better, I can prove it to you-!"

Dread floods his already wrecked expression, his hands scrambling to grip at you—your wrists, your waist, anything he can reach as if holding onto you might keep you from slipping away. His words crumble into another sob as he buries his face against your neck, pressing frantic kisses to your skin between shaky pleas. "Please, Miss, I need you, I need to prove it to you, please don’t take it away from me-”

You tilt your head, watching him squirm beneath the weight of your words. Then, just as he opens his mouth to plead again, you drag your nails down his chest, slow and deliberate, making him shudder.

"Anything, huh?"

"Yes- Yes, Miss, anything," he gasps, nodding frantically. "Anything, anything- I’ll be your good boy, your good puppy. I’ll hold myself back, I will, I will-"

A slow, satisfied smirk tugs at your lips. Your grip in his hair tightens once more, pulling his head back further until his throat is bared to you, shaking and vulnerable.

"Then prove it, puppy," you purr, your breath ghosting over his skin. "Right now."

[illusionly]

i don’t give a shit that he’s 6’2 i want him MOANING and WHIMPERING

[illusionly]

500 DAYS OF YOU.

꩜ ⋮ wc: 11.4k+

꩜ ⋮ content: sexual content, self sabotaging, angst + POOR decisions. if you don’t enjoy my content, there’s no need for you to stick around, i’m not responsible for what you choose to engage with.

꩜ ⋮ summary: oh, what a love story; a hopeless romantic who believes in grand gestures and forever, falling for a girl who keeps love at arm’s length, never staying long enough to get hurt. if this were a movie, they’d overcome every barrier, meet in the rain for a dramatic kiss, and ride off into the sunset… right?

ㅤ───── ❝ don’t want to be anyone’s girlfriend. ❞

THEODORE LOVES the way your presence makes him feel, even when you’re not there, for example; the scent of coconut on his sheets, like the brush of your fingers tickling over his skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. he is utterly charmed by how your eyes contain an entire forest, all deep and infinite, drawing him in and leaving him lost as he tries to find his way out. he swears he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

he loves the way your lips curl around his name, as if tasting it, savoring it.

he loves the softness of your voice when it’s just the two of you, words softer than a baby’s bum. he loves the way you touch him, not just in the way that sets his skin on fire, though merlin knows it does, but in a way that makes him feel shy, with nothing but smiles and blushes. the way your fingers trail over the back of his ear when you think he isn’t paying attention. the way you lean into him for a kiss without thinking, as if your body knows what your lips want.

he loves the fire in you, the way you argue with him, push him, yet always find your way back. drawn to him like gravity. he loves the way you undress him, the way your breath hitches when he’s all vulnerable and naked, the way your pulse flutters beneath his lips when he moans against your throat.

god, he loves you. he loves you so much. he really fucking loves you.

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“WHAT HAPPENED?” pansy immediately shushed enzo with a small slap to his shoulder as he stepped through the door. the group of five stayed on the other side of the room, watching in silence. usually, they wouldn’t give two fucks if theodore decided to be lazy at five in the afternoon, they’d all done it before. but this was different: theodore had been in bed for a week straight.

not in the exhausted, crash after a long day kind of way. no, he hadn’t gotten up to shower. he hadn’t eaten. and now that theodore thought about it, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d actually slept. he’d been lying in bed, yeah. but sleep? that hadn’t come at all.

his friends would stop by his apartment every few days to hang out, but theodore either told them to leave the second they walked in or didn’t bother responding at all; just laid there, silent, hoping they’d take the hint and get the fuck out. “he’s been like this all week,” blaise said, chocolate eyes filled with worry as he watched his best friend. “draco and i tried to talk to him, but it’s either an argument or nothing at all. no in between.”

“infuriating idiot,” enzo muttered under his breath, shooting his friends a look before deciding to try for himself. on the way over, he’d even grabbed theodore some snacks, so really, there was no excuse. who could argue with free food?

lorenzo watched as theodore lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling, hands tucked behind his head. “fuck are you moping around for?” enzo asked, dropping onto the edge of the bed. he held up the bag of snacks, giving it a little shake. “got your favorite, now you can’t be mad.”

now that enzo was closer, he could see it. he nearly gasped, but quickly snapped himself out of it, blinking rapidly: theodore had become a mix of scrawny and weak flesh, cheekbones sharper, eyes drooping with exhaustion. he swore he’d seen this fucker just a week ago, and things had seemed somewhat stable.

it was strange. enzo had never seen theodore like this before, so detached, so… small. his silence was deafening, as if he were in a contest of wills where the prize was his very soul. that’s how quiet he was. for a singular moment, enzo thought theo wouldn’t say anything, just like blaise had warned. he barely even looked conscious. his eyes were open, yeah, but that was about it.

what had brought him to this? what was making him so strangely quiet, so weirdly small? enzo was about to open his mouth again, ready to be harsher than he planned when something happened.

a nod. a quick, almost invisible tilt of theo’s head. from the small sound pansy made behind him, enzo had a feeling that was the first reaction any of them had gotten from theodore all week.

“snacks?” enzo tried, holding them out. theodore shook his head slightly, silent refusal.

that’s when it hit enzo. something was wrong. not just because theodore hadn’t looked away from the ceiling, like enzo’s words were going in one ear and out the other. not just because he looked so drained, so unhealthy. but because he didn’t even reach for the snacks. theo would’ve snatched the bag right out of his hold by now.

enzo’s stomach twisted. he held the snacks a little higher, hoping for any sort of reaction, but theodore didn’t move. not even a twitch.

pansy stepped forward, a little hesitantly, and placed a hand on enzo’s shoulder. “we need to do something,” she murmured, voice quiet as though speaking too loud would shatter whatever fragile state theodore was in. which was exactly what theo didn’t want. he didn’t want pity. he didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for him, and he certainly didn’t want them here, hovering over him. but if he told them to leave, he knew he’d be the one in the wrong.

lorenzo glanced at pansy, helplessness bubbling up. “what do you want me to do? he’s barely even fuckin’ here. look at him.” don’t look at me, please, theodore wanted to say.

“we need to get him to talk. whatever it is, he’s shutting us out,” draco said, pulling a book from theodore’s small bookshelf. “we can’t just let him keep doing this.” please, let me keep doing this. it’s the only thing that keeps me sane, theodore thought.

blaise nodded in agreement. “he won’t even look at us. we can’t force him, but we can’t just wait around either.” besides, they had already done the waiting, each of them taking turns to check on theodore. enzo however, was distracted by other things, and his girlfriend. he wasn’t around as much as the others, but he was closer to theodore than anyone else. if there was anyone nott might finally open up to and admit what was wrong, they all hoped it would be berkshire.

the room fell into an uncomfortable silence, all of them watching theodore’s still form. however, enzo wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay silent. the way theodore looked now: empty, disconnected, was oddly breaking him.

he leaned forward, a bit more determined this time, and gently shook the bag of snacks. “theo,” he said, softer this time, “you can’t keep doing this. you’re scaring the hell out of us.” you’re fucking scared for me? i’m scared for myself, theodore wanted to say.

another moment of silence passed, then theodore finally moved. not much, but enough. his head shifted slightly, and his eyes flickered, almost like he was struggling to focus. enzo’s heart skipped, unsure if it was the beginning of a breakthrough or another dead end. “do you want me to bring that girl over here to make you talk—”

“i’m fine?” theodore’s voice sounded more like a question than a statement, as if the answer was being questioned rather than told, and it didn’t sound like someone who was ‘just fine.’ the words felt flat.

enzo clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to snap. he knew he wasn’t fine. but what could he say? what could he do? “you don’t look fine.” at all.

theodore didn’t respond, eyes drilled to the ceiling. the silence settling between them once more as the rest of the group watched quietly. pansy stepped closer, speaking gently, “theodore, we’re here for you. you don’t have to do this alone.” but that’s what theodore wants. he wants to be alone. stay alone, live alone, spend the rest of his life alone. alone, alone, alone.

mattheo nodded. “whatever it is, we’re not leaving until you talk to us. we’ll figure it out together.”

for a second, there was nothing but the sound of theodore’s shallow breaths. and then, finally, he spoke again;

“no.” leave me alone.

it wasn’t harsh, wasn’t an argument. theodore simply didn’t want to talk. he didn’t want help. he didn’t want anyone there.

enzo had been bracing for a breakdown, for some sort of emotion, but this was worse. this was complete emptiness, the silence that screamed louder than any words ever could. it was like the doors had slammed shut, and no matter how hard they tried to knock, theodore wasn’t going to let them in.

and what do you do when you’ve already knocked politely and the person on the other end isn’t responding? you break the door down.

“we’re not leaving, theo. not until you talk to us.”

enzo reached for the snacks again, gripping them tightly, as though the act itself might force something out of theodore. “if you don’t start talking now, i’ll find that girl and ask her myself.” enzo wasn’t stupid. maybe a little slow at times, but when it came to figuring out what was eating at his friends, he either demanded the truth or figured it out on his own. it wasn’t obvious at first, but the way theodore’s throat visibly tightened, the way his eyes darted toward him, was the confirmation lorenzo needed.

it had to be something to do with that girl theodore had been spending most of his time with. it made sense, theodore had always been a sucker for romance. he loved the idea of loving someone with all his being, of caring for them through every step of life.

when he first started talking to her, he didn’t tell his friends right away, respecting her wish not to be anyone’s girlfriend at the moment. they understood and didn’t press him further. but enzo had never seen theodore as happy as he did then: there was a kick in his step, something brighter in his eyes. now, though, it was all the opposite: drained and helpless. and the way theodore visibly grimaced at the mere mention of her? that told enzo everything.

“i don’t… know how,” theodore whispered. voice weak, but it was there, cracked and all, but there.

“just start from the beginning and tell us what happened,” pansy cut in, her voice as soft as it had ever been. enzo gave her a subtle nudge, signaling for her to dial it back a little.

theodore nodded, slowly sitting up in his bed. “things were going so well,” he began, and immediately, everyone fell silent, their full attention on him. “and then?” enzo prodded, not bothering to hide his impatience. he didn’t have time for theodore to drag this out any longer.

“and then…” he huffed. “they weren’t.”

DAY 001.

sitting in a corner of his favorite coffee shop, eyes glued to the pages of a book he wasn’t really reading, but pretending to: theodore had always been someone who treasured peaceful moments, much like this one. he was always a little lost in thought, but today, his mind wasn’t on the book, wasn’t on the quiet talk of the shop or the hum of the espresso machine.

no, today, his thoughts were scattered in the direction of someone in particular.

he’d noticed you the moment you stepped inside, a sight that had a way of drawing eyes, without even trying. you were gorgeous, a kind of beauty that made everything around you seem ordinary by comparison. your hair was the color of the late summer sun, a soft, warm shade that made him want to reach out and touch it: just to see if it felt as soft as it looked.

you moved with such classiness, smile lighting up the shop the way the first rays of dawn lit the sky. but what really made you stand out, what really caught him, were your eyes; dark, twinkling.

theodore had always been a firm believer in love at first sight, a hopeless romantic at heart. but despite his beliefs, he had never truly experienced it himself. he had found plenty of girls attractive, even beautiful, but never in a way that instantly captivated his mind and pulled him in.

he hadn’t meant to stare, really. but he couldn’t help it. you were sitting across the shop, reading your own book, completely unaware of his gaze. and for some reason, today, he couldn’t pull himself away. you had this laugh: soft, almost musical, that echoed in his mind, even as he tried to read the same sentence for the third time. he’d never been so entranced by someone before. the way you furrowed your brow when you were deep in thought, the way your lips moved as you whispered lines from your book.

so, naturally, it was at that exact moment, when his thoughts were completely consumed by you, that disaster struck.

he wasn’t paying attention to anything else, too caught up in the mesmerization of your presence, when he felt a sharp, sudden pressure on his hand. it wasn’t until the heat rushed through his skin, painfully hot and burning, that he realized what had happened.

he had, without a second thought, been holding his coffee cup too tightly, too carelessly, and in his dazed trance, the hot liquid had sloshed out, spilling straight onto his fingers.

“shit!” he hissed, the pain finally snapping him out of his fog. he looked down at his hand, now starting to redden from the burn, and then, just then, he heard your voice:

“sir? your hand is burning.” how did you get here so quickly? when did you even get up? did he shout that loudly? oh my god.

his eyes shot up, and there you fuckin’ were. standing in front of him. the beautiful, perfect woman he had been staring at for the last few minutes. he blinked a few times, the world still a little blurry, his mind struggling to process.

“oh. yeah.” he couldn’t think of anything else to say. what was he supposed to say? he just burned himself because he was staring at you like an idiot?

he didn’t have time to finish that thought before he realized — shit, yeah, his hand hurt. his hand now burning with the heat of the spilled coffee, was all he could focus on. and now that the initial shock was over, panic started to set in. great, now he was freaking out.

"fuck, fuck, fuck."

but you didn’t seem phased at all. your gorgeous eyes were concerned but not judgmental, and there was this little smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. you weren’t laughing at him. no, you weren’t the type. but you could probably see how utterly ridiculous he looked in this moment.

“are you okay?” you asked, stepping closer, your tone a hint of playfulness, like you found it funny, but in a good way. your gaze didn’t leave his hand, and theodore’s mind was whirling, too stunned to even answer you at first. he opened his mouth to say something, anything, but the words got stuck somewhere in his throat.

“uh, i… think i need ice.” he finally stuttered, realizing how ridiculous he must look sitting there, holding his now painful hand. his words were out before he could think about them, and he immediately felt embarrassed. but then you nodded and quickly turned to the counter, calling for the barista behind the register.

“can you get some ice, please?” your voice was sweet, and theodore watched as you moved effortlessly behind the counter, speaking to the barista with such calmness.

he couldn’t stop staring at you. you were so beautiful, even in this insane situation. you weren’t fazed by him, weren’t judging him for what he assumed was an incredibly awkward moment. in fact, there was a little spark in your eyes that made his stomach do flips. he had to admit it: he was definitely caught in your orbit.

and if he wasn’t careful, he might just let himself get pulled in.

when you returned, you handed him a small paper towel with some ice wrapped inside. “here,” you said, voice feather light. “just hold that for a few minutes. i’m pretty sure you’ll live.”

theodore took the ice, still a little too dazed to process what was happening. “thanks,” he said, realizing he was grinning like a fool for someone who just got their hand burned. but he couldn’t help it. there was something about the way you were looking at him that made him feel like maybe everything was going to be okay.

you laughed softly, that same sound that had captivated him earlier. “no problem,” you said, tone relaxed, though there was something warm behind it. “but next time, maybe… don’t stare so hard?”

theodore froze. had you caught him? he opened his mouth to apologize, but you beat him to it. “…kidding,” you added with a wink. “but seriously, you should be careful next time. coffee’s not the only thing that can burn you.”

theodore chuckled nervously. “i’ll, uh, keep that in mind.” he felt like a total idiot, but somehow, it didn’t feel as bad as it should have. there was something about your easy smile and playful teasing, that made him feel… well, alive.

you two sat there for a while, talking about everything and nothing. he’d ask you about your book, and you’d answer with a smile, genuinely interested in talking to him. and he’d talk about his favorite songs, the ones that reminded him of late night drives, and you’d listen, truly listening, like you cared about his words.

and as the minutes passed, theodore started to realize that maybe this was the beginning of something. something good. something that wasn’t just a random coffee shop encounter.

and maybe that was exactly what he needed.

DAY 005.

the record shop was quiet, the sound of a guitar riff playing somewhere in the background. the smell of vinyl, old paper, and dust; a scent that somehow felt nostalgic, even if neither of you had ever been here before. with shelves lined with records from every genre, spanning decades of music history. the kind of spot where you could lose yourself for hours, flipping through rows of albums, and still discover something new.

you and theo had spent the last hour wandering the aisles, talking about everything. it was easy like that: being with him. there was no pressure, no expectation, no labels, just the two of you in your own little world, surrounded by music that both felt like home and yet like an exciting unknown.

he had been humming along to an old jazz record when he looked over at you, eyes bright with amusement. “you know,” he said, raising an eyebrow, “i think we’ve been here so long, i might just start buying a bunch of records i don’t even have the equipment to play.”

you laughed softly, shaking your head. “yeah, but look at this place. there’s something beautiful about it… you can’t leave without at least buying one.”

he grinned, turning to flip through another stack of vinyls. “well, if you insist, i guess i’ll have to get something… but only if you do the same.”

you shrugged casually, but inside you were already scanning the shelves, feeling a little giddy at the thought of picking out a record for yourself. you’d always loved the thought of vinyls; the crackling sound, the physicality of putting the needle down. and there was something about sharing this with theodore that made the experience even more special.

you continued to flip through the records, and then it happened. as your hand brushed past a familiar cover, you froze.

“the smiths!” you said at the same time theo did, both of you speaking in unison, as if your minds were completely in sync.

you were obsessed with the smiths, always playing their music around your tiny apartment whenever you decided to wake up early for breakfast or blast it while you took a shower, singing along like you were in a karaoke session. theodore shared the same love for the smiths. whenever it was his turn to play dj with his friends, no matter what they were doing, he'd crank up the smiths to full volume.

it was such a silly moment, both of you saying the same thing at the exact same time. you turned to him, eyes wide with surprise, and he matched your look, both of you suddenly aware of the perfect timing.

you quickly snatched the vinyl, and theodore thought you were about to say something, but instead, you just grabbed it and headed toward the front of the shop. the person behind the counter, a young guy who’d been listening to the two of you talk, smiled knowingly and immediately grabbed the record from your hand.

he didn’t even ask, just slid it onto the turntable and pressed play.

before either of you could say anything, the familiar sound of: ‘there is a light that never goes out’ began to fill the spot, the opening guitar riff sweeping through. you felt a jolt of excitement.

the planet felt tinier, just the two of you and this beautiful song. you couldn’t help yourself. a laugh bubbled up, and before you even knew what you were doing, you stepped forward and gave theodore a playful shove.

"come on! you have to dance with me now," you teased, holding out your hand for him to take. theodore stared at you like you'd just killed his cat. here? right here? in the middle of the shop?

theo hesitated for a split second, but the smile on your face was contagious. he grinned back at you, shrugging in mock defeat. “guess i don’t have much of a choice, do i?”

"nope, not at all." theo glanced at your outstretched hand, then immediately took it with his larger one. you both began swaying to the music, spinning lightly, completely unconcerned about looking a bit ridiculous in a nearly empty record shop.

there was no need for anything fancy, just two people, letting the music guide them. the way your fingers brushed together. the way your gazes held for a second longer than usual. the laughter between you was softer, but beneath it was a chemistry neither of you could deny.

he stepped a little closer, and you could feel the warmness of his body as the music swirled around you both. it was confidential in its plainness, the kind of familiarity that had nothing to do with anything physical, but everything to do with the way you fit together in that moment. the song seemed to go on forever, both of you lost in it, too focused on the way you seemed to mirror each other to care about anything else.

at one point, you twirled, and he spun you with ease, hands in the air for a second before you found your way back into his arms. you weren’t thinking about how silly it probably looked. you weren’t thinking about anything except the contact you shared. the way the music made everything feel so cinematic, as if this was the only moment that amounted to something. the only thing that existed was you, him, and this damn song.

when the song finally faded, you both slowed, standing there in a breathless silence, still holding on to each other as the last notes played out. theodore looked at you with an almost amused smile, a sparkle in his eyes that wasn’t there a moment ago.

“not bad,” he said, a little out of breath. not bad at all. he wasn’t out of breath from the dancing; it was more from the way you were moving so close to him.

you cheekily grinned back at him, unable to stop the goofy smile that spread across your face. “i think we might be a pretty good pair.”

“oh, definitely,” he replied.

the record continued to spin, both of you moved back toward the counter. neither of you had to say anything to confirm what was happening. the way he looked at you, the way you felt when you were near him, it was already there, clear as day.

“i think i’ll take this one,” you said, nodding toward the album that had started it all. theodore smiled, teeth and all. “yeah, me too.”

DAY 010.

“is that your boyfriend?” asked chloe, pointing to theodore with a drunken grin.

it was one of those small parties your friends always seemed to throw at their place; flickering lights, loud music, filled with the smell of alcoholic drinks and cheap cologne. people were laughing, talking, and dancing in the corner, but the energy felt more chaotic than fun. your friends had a way of getting a little too wild after a few too many drinks. you were standing by the little bar, quietly observing, hoping you could have a conversation without getting caught up in the madness.

theodore was next to you, sipping on his drink but barely making a dent in it. he’d been quiet all evening, leaning against the counter as you spoke to the others, but always close enough that you could feel the easy comfort between you two. it wasn’t like you had to try hard to make conversation with theo.

the music blasted, and you found yourself smiling at the way theodore seemed perfectly at ease despite the loudness. you were about to say something when one of your more outspoken friends, chloe, came up to you, clearly a little tipsy. she slurred a bit as she spoke, eyes moving between you and theodore.

you had blinked, momentarily thrown off guard by the question. you didn’t have a boyfriend, and definitely didn’t want to put any labels on what you and theodore had. it was… something, but not something you were prepared to define.

you shook your head, the corner of your lips pulling up into a small smile. “no. he’s not.”

she raised her eyebrows, eye drifting between you two, a smile tugging at her lips. “do you want him to be?”

you felt a slight knot form in your stomach. you glanced at theodore, who seemed to be distracted by the conversation happening across the party, looking more like an observer than someone caught in the middle of the conversation.

“no,” you said quickly, a little too quickly, before realizing the quickness of your words. “i don’t want a boyfriend.”

chloe squinted at you, clearly not satisfied with the answer, even though she was clearly a few drinks in. “why not? you two seem perfect together,” she hiccuped, not exactly trying to be subtle.

you diverted your weight from one foot to the other, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable under her questioning. you had always been the type to keep your emotions in check, never one to easily open up about what was really going on in your head. relationships were always a bit too complicated for you, something you avoided because of how messy they could get. but now, with her asking you directly, you had to find a way to explain it without sounding like you were dodging the truth.

you shrugged slightly, trying to keep your tone feather light, but the words came out harsher than you intended. “i just don’t want to be anyone’s girlfriend.”

ouch. that was a punch to the gut.

chloe burped, trying to process what you said. “what’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, her voice confused but still investigating. ugh, chloe and her nose that seem to be everywhere it shouldn't be. theodore turned slightly to face you. he gave you a small look, one that said he wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, but he was still there. eyes meeting yours.

you felt your stomach twist uncomfortably. you’d never really explained it to anyone, not in this way. you didn’t like the idea of labels. you didn’t want the responsibility of being someone’s ‘other half’ or fitting into a predefined mold. you didn’t want to be something you had to define or protect.

“don’t know,” you muttered, looking down at your drink for a second, then back at chloe. “it’s just… i don’t want to be tied to someone. i don’t want to be anyone’s girlfriend, you know?” chloe didn’t seem entirely satisfied with that, but she shrugged, probably too drunk to press it further. she gave you a teasing grin, as if she was still convinced you were just playing hard to get. “well, if you change your mind, i’ll be waiting for the wedding invite.”

you rolled your eyes, trying to brush it off, but the conversation had left you feeling uneasy. you glanced at theodore, who had gone back to his previous position, quietly observing the party.

you didn’t want to complicate things. you didn’t want to risk anything between you and theodore: what you had was easy and you didn’t want to mess with that. he wasn’t asking for anything from you, and that was what made it different from everything else you’d experienced. but at the same time, the chemistry between you two was undeniable, and sometimes it felt like you were standing on the edge of something that could become more if you were willing to let it.

but not tonight.

“come on, let’s get out of here,” you said to theo, trying to change the subject. “this place is getting too crazy.”

he raised an eyebrow, a playful smile crossing his face. “escape while we can, huh?”

“mhm.” you nodded, relieved that he didn’t push the conversation further. you grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the door, ready to leave behind the noise and confusion. whatever was happening between you two, whatever it might become, you didn’t need to rush it. you just needed to take it one step at a time, and for once, that felt like enough.

DAY 020:

“delivery!” before you could even pull yourself from the comfort of your bed, the door creaked open, revealing theodore. his messy curls and the sleepy flash in his eyes made it clear that he had been up for hours, carefully planning something. in his hands, he was hiding something, a devilish spark dancing in his gaze.

“got you something,” he said softly. you squinted at him through the confusion of sleep, raising a bushy eyebrow. “what’s all this? you’re acting suspicious.”

he gave you that handsome grin of his, the one that could melt the hardest of hearts, and shook his head. “suspicious? me?” his tone was playful, but you could hear a softness beneath it, something that made you realize he was trying to hide his excitement.

just as you were about to ask him again, you heard it: a soft sound. a tiny, delicate mewl that tugged at your heart. your breath caught in your chest, and before you could even process it, theodore pulled his hands from behind his back and revealed the tiniest, fluffiest little kitten you had ever seen.

the little kitten in his hands was so cute, you honestly felt like you might burst right then and there. you’d dropped hints to theodore countless times about wanting a cat, but to actually see him holding one, this tiny, perfect ball of fur: it took your breath away.

he actually listened. holy shit.

your eyes enlarged. soft and white as snow, with wide, innocent eyes that blinked up at you like it was seeing the world for the first time. it was so small, its little paws barely making a sound on the edge of theodore’s hands. your heart flapped in your chest, as you couldn’t help but reach out with trembling fingers, just to confirm it was real.

he smiled, watching you with such affection in his eyes. “i know you wanted one,” he said quietly as he lowered the kitten into your lap. you gasped, hands instinctively catching it, cradling the tiny creature against your chest.

the kitten gave a soft meow, nuzzling into the warmth of your hands, its little nose twitching as it looked for comfort in your embrace. you looked up at theodore, overwhelmed by the sweetness.

“theo…” you breathed, voice dipped with so much emotion, trying to form words but finding them impossible.

he settled beside you on the bed, hand gently resting on your back, his touch grounding you. he watched you, eyes full of warmth, like he was seeing everything he had ever hoped for right before him.

“i wanted to give you something that you would love you,” he murmured softly. “something that would remind you every day how much you mean to me.”

you felt your heart swell, his words making everything else disappear. you looked down at the kitten, feeling the tiny pulse of life in your hands, and then back at theodore, your chest tight with something beautiful.

you couldn’t stop smiling. like the universe had conspired to give you this perfect moment, the kind of moment that felt like it belonged in a dream.

the little kitten blinked up at you, trusting you without question, you realized something.

you weren’t just holding a tiny life in your hands; you were holding something that would always remind you of theodore, his kindness, of the ways he showed you how much he cared.

regardless, you caught yourself thinking: why did he care? why was he so kind to you? so perfect? way too perfect.

the kitten nuzzled into your chest, curling up in the safest place it could find, you felt the most comforting warmth wrap around your heart. you didn’t need anything more. you had everything you needed right there, this little bundle in your lap.

DAY 035:

the first glare of sunrise had barely begun to color the sky with streaks of pink and orange, radiating a golden glow over everything. you stood beside theodore at the edge of the balcony, breath visible due to the cold air, but there was something comforting about the coolness. it felt like you were the only two people awake in the planet, in a place that existed just for the two of you.

theodore was calmer than usual, hand brushing lightly against yours as he motioned for you to follow him. his smile was small but full of excitement, a nervous energy you hadn’t seen from him before.

he led you toward the edge of the balcony, where the city stretched out below you, a breathtaking sight of towering, shimmering buildings, their sharp angles softened by the rising sun.

“this is it,” he said. his stare moved over the city, and you saw the way the light hit the buildings, releasing long shadows that made them seem even grander, more majestic. you couldn’t help but follow his gaze, taking in the stunning view, but what caught your attention wasn’t just the beauty of the city. it was the way theodore looked at it, as though this view, this moment, held more meaning than just the view itself.

“you’ve never seen the city like this, have you?” theo asked. you shook your head, feeling something stir in your chest. “no… it’s beautiful.” the words felt too small for the scene before you, but they were all you could manage.

theodore nodded, eyes not leaving the view. “it’s my favorite time of day. when everything feels new and everything’s beginning to settle down. the city feels like it’s just for you, like you’ve got the whole world at your feet.” he turned to face you then, his eyes full of that quiet passion you liked so much. “i wanted to share it with you.”

your heart skipped a beat.

you knew theodore well enough by now to understand that moments like these were rare for him, he didn’t often open up, didn’t often let others see the things he held closest to his heart. having that in mind, here he was, letting you into this piece of him. the view, the calm of the world at sunrise, the feeling of being completely alone with someone you cared for; it was all so intimate, so personal.

so… weird. in a good way.

right?

“you’re the only one i’ve ever shared this with,” he continued, stepping closer. the distance between you closed, his body enclosing as he looked down at you, gaze stable. you could see the defenselessness in his eyes, something he didn’t often let others see, but something that felt so raw.

you didn’t know how to feel.

“thank you,” you whispered, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. you hadn’t realized how much this moment meant to you until that second.

you looked up at him, heart so confusingly full, overwhelmed by how deeply he had shared something so meaningful with you. and that’s when you saw it; the way his eyes softened just a little, the way his lips parted in a way that seemed almost hesitant.

so beautifully.

without another word, he leaned in. slowly, as though he were giving you every chance to pull away, but you didn’t. you didn’t want to.

the distant murmur of the city seemed to evaporate, the promise of a new day, all of it faded as you closed your eyes and felt his lips brush gently against yours.

it was soft, almost as if testing the waters at first, unsure but still confident enough to take the bait. you let yourself sink into the kiss, your pulse quickening as the warmth of his lips ignited something inside you.

it was a kiss of biting and tugging before your bottom lips and tongues entwine.

theodore chuckled into the messy kiss before he suddenly grabbed your jaw, pulling away to part his own lips. then angled your head, forcing your kiss to be deep with him; dominating.

when your top lip became trapped between the velvety softness of his lips, which had become perfectly plump from the passion, he started moving against you. wet, smacking sounds of lips parting and greedily reconnecting, each smack of the lips more binding and starved than the last.

with the sun rising behind you and the city sprawling, in his mind, it was just the two of you. and when you pulled away, just slightly, you could see the same wonder reflected in theodore’s eyes; the same surprise, the same sense of awe.

“… amazing you are,” he whispered, breath mixing with yours. his words all soft and sincere, making your chest explode with butterflies.

DAY 040:

“fuckin’ beautiful.” theodore leans in, rosy lips trailing sloppy, wet kisses along your neck and collarbone as he grips your hips tightly. he spins you around and presses you against the cold shower wall, one hand palming your breast roughly. his dick throbbing insistently between your ass cheeks.

theo's hand squeezes your breast firmly, fingers pinching your hard nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. you can feel his cock, all huge and hard, sliding between your ass cheeks, the head leaking pre cum that mixes with the water streaming down your body.

what began as an innocent shower together quickly transformed into something much more eager. as theodore gently lathered shampoo into your hair, your mind raced with desire, consumed by the urge to have him inside you.

the feeling of his hardness pressing against you only fueled your appetite, making it difficult to focus on anything else.

with your back turned to him, the cool tiles of the shower sent shivers down your chest, heightening your awareness of every touch. theodore's left hand pressed firmly against your lower back, while his other hand explored your body, fingers teasingly playing with your chest.

with a deep groan, nott reaches down and guides the head of his swollen dick to your drenched pussy, pushes forward, spreading your tender lips apart as he sinks inside you with a turtle type of speed; sooo slow, sooo deep.

your body trembles, legs parting instinctively to take him deeper. “my beautiful girl, all needy and shit.”

theodore lifts your left leg, hooking your ankle over the edge of the tub. this position opens you up even more, his cock hitting deeper spots inside you. “augh!” he starts moving his hips, his dick sliding in and out of your pussy with wet, mushy sounds.

“god, you’re perfect," theodore grits out, hips pushing forward, driving his big size deep inside you. the water makes your body glisten, little water droplets sliding down your stomach and inner thighs.

the feeling is indeed perfect. but the way you're soaking wet has its downsides. his dick keeps slipping out with loud, wet 'plop' sounds due to your extreme arousal. it's frustrating him, making him grunt in annoyance between thrusts.

theodore pulls out, ignoring your mewling protest, his cock soaking with your juices. without a word, he yanks open the tub curtain, lifting you off the ground. your legs instinctively wrapping around his muscular torso.

you didn’t say a word, you trusted him as much as you needed him.

as soon as your legs are securely wrapped around his waist, he steps out of the shower, his left foot hitting the soft carpet first, followed by his right. the plush carpet tickles the soles of his feet. you expect theodore to carry you to the bed or bend you over the sink, but as soon as his feet touch the carpet outside the tub, he suddenly sinks to his knees.

he didn't take a single step; rather, he gently lowered you onto the bathroom floor, the soft carpet grazing your back. your legs stayed wrapped around his waist as his hand moved between your thighs, fingers parting your folds.

"stop being a tease," you snap, frustrated by his slow torture. you use your leg wrapped around his waist to pull him closer, digging the heel of your foot into his lower back to urge him deeper. it works, as you feel him finally slide fully inside you, filling you completely.

on the carpet, theodore's movements become even more crude. he pulls out slowly, cock glistening with water droplets. then, he thrusts back in, hips grinding against yours. your perky tits jiggle due to impact, nipples puckered red from his earlier sucking.

he swells inside you with each slam of his hips, your walls gripping and releasing.

"ohhh, right there," you gasp, gripping his biceps tightly as he hits the spot that sends shockwaves through your body. "right here?" theodore asks, pulling out completely before sliding back inside you, thrusting forward to hit the sensitive area over and over again.

"yes! yesss, please right there…" you beg, your lips parting with each jab he hits your g-spot. the sexiest moans he's ever heard echo through the bathroom, making him grip your thighs tighter to pound into you harder.

with both hands braced against the floor on either side of your head, his fingertips brushing against the bathroom carpet, theodore dips his head down to capture your bottom lip between his teeth. he pulls it down gently before releasing it.

the carpet provided a steady surface, and oh, you felt every inch of him. his handsome face only heightened the pleasure — this man was incredibly sexy. you didn’t want this to end, not yet, but you were so close: closer than you’d ever been. you couldn’t help yourself. god, you couldn’t help a single fucking thing.

theodore can feel your orgasm by the way you grasp the back of his head, pulling him against your chest as your legs tighten around him. he starts to pound into you harder, hitting the spot rougher and making you a mess. "wanna feel it all over me,"

you let go, hot and warm juices coating his dick as he jolts inside you. this causes him to thrust even deeper, the bulge in your stomach becoming more prominent. "holy shit," he groans, the sight and feel of you sending him over the edge as well.

"mhmmm," he breathes out heavily, feeling his release coming. swiftly pulling out just in time, theodore moves up your body until your mouth is perfectly aligned with his twitching cock. "open up," he rasps, watching as his red, swollen head pulsates dangerously close to your lips.

you could barely catch your breath after your orgasm, yet you obeyed, chest rising and falling, but you still listened.

"eat my fuckin’ kids," he snarls, pinching the tip of his dick slightly before releasing hot streams of cum into your mouth. you obediently swallow it down, your throat working to gulp it all down as he watches with heavy eyes.

DAY 055:

it started with a simple, “come with me,” as theodore tugged you outside in the middle of the night. wrapped in blankets, the two of you lay on the grass, staring up at the sky.

“you see that one?” he murmured, pointing at a bright star. “that one’s yours.”

you turned your head to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “mine?”

he smirked. “yeah. named it after you.” you snorted. “you can’t just name a star.” theodore had this gorgeous beauty mark right on his cheekbone, and you adored it. it made him look even more stunning, his face so perfectly beautiful.

“says who?” he turned his head to meet your gaze, eyes shining in the gloss of the moonlight. “it’s yours. and every time you look up at it, i want you to remember that someone out there thinks you’re just as bright.”

he was so perfect: so kind, so genuine, good in every way, inside and out. it made you wonder what you had done to deserve him, to deserve his presence, his time, and the quiet way he made the world feel softer just by being in it.

it also made you wonder why he felt too good for you. how he could be everything while you felt like nothing in comparison. the thought drowned you, a pang settling in your chest as theodore spoke, but his words blurred into nothing more than muffled noise.

did he really like you, or was it all just a performance? and if it was, how was he so convincing? but if it wasn’t: if every word, every glance, every touch was real — then how was he so naturally good at making people feel special, at knowing exactly what to say, exactly how to make someone feel good?

your heart did an embarrassing flip. you weren’t sure if it was from his kind words or the odd feeling stirring inside you: something new, something unsettling. either way, it made you shift slightly to your right, just enough to put a little more space between you and theodore, as if distance could quiet the flutter in your chest.

DAY 062:

theo had a bad habit of leaving his hoodies at your place, and you had a worse habit of stealing them. one beautiful day, he walked in to find you curled up on the couch in his sweatshirt, the sleeves swallowing your hands.

he wasn't mad. in fact, he found you incredibly sexy in his hoodie. the dark green brought out your curves, making him want to bend you over the kitchen counter. rather than, he crosses his arms against the doorway, "s’that my hoodie?" he asks.

your lovely face stretched into a small smile as you peeked up at him innocently. “no.” he laughed, walking over and tugging at the sleeve. “really? looks suspiciously like the one i lost last week.”

you remembered it vividly, actually. it was after the two of you had showered together: not the kind where he stopped midway just to fuck you on the carpet, but a simple, normal shower; where there was nothing sexual. just him gently massaging shampoo into your hair while you wrapped your arms around his waist, holding him close as the warm water dripped around you both. “finders keepers.”

he contracted his eyes before flopping onto the couch beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “fine,” he sighed. “but if you keep stealing my clothes, i might have to start stealing yours.”

you chuckled. “i’d pay to see you in my clothes.” and that’s exactly how, the very next day, you walked in on theodore lounging in one of your oversized pink sweaters, a smug grin on his face.

you laughed so fucking hard you nearly lost your balance, doubling over before launching yourself at him. with tickles, you tried to get your revenge, giggling uncontrollably until he turned the tables, grabbing you and attacking with a burst of kisses all over your face, leaving you breathless between your laughter.

for days on end, everything felt perfect. doubts would creep in occasionally, but they always disappeared the moment theodore got lost in you — and you in him.

it was fun. the two of you would hang out every day, visit different shops just to be near each other, and even go out to eat or simply stroll around hand in hand. you'd always get him to pose for a picture with your polaroid camera, the kind that prints photos on the spot. one time, at the beach during sunset, you asked a stranger to take a picture of you both kissing.

when you wanted to have fun at bars, you'd let loose, getting completely drunk and dancing without a care whenever a song played.

on other days, he only focused on giving you bliss, consuming you completely and making you feel every inch of him. whether pressed against the shower wall, at the edge of the bed, on the carpet, or even in the dresser. it didn't matter to him; all he cared about was having you wrap your legs around his waist and feeling himself within you.

but then, on day three hundred and five, something changed. the warmth stayed, but the space between you began to pull, unnoticeable at first, until the distance became impossible to ignore.

DAY 310:

theodore noticed it before you even realized what you were doing. the way your texts became shorter, the way your laughter didn’t come as easily, how you leaned away when he tried to pull you closer. it was fine at first, but now, it was questionable.

tonight, he had invited you over, hoping to shake the strange distance that had settled between you. he had picked up your favorite snacks, queued up a movie you once swore was ‘the only thing that could make a bad day better.’

but nothing worked.

you sat curled up at the far end of the couch, staring at your phone instead of the screen. your responses were dry, your smiles small, and every time he tried to meet your gaze, you looked away.

“you know, if i didn’t know any better,” theo started, a teasing lilt in his voice, “i’d think you were getting bored of me.” theo never really knew how to confront someone he cared about and tell them how their actions were making him feel. he hated confrontation, so the only way he felt he could address it was through humor.

you barely reacted, just hummed vaguely. nails tapping sharply against your phone screen.

his smirk faltered. “right, i get it, you’re too cool for me now,” he tried again, nudging your foot lightly with his own. “have i been replaced? do i need to fight someone for my spot?”

“not in the mood, theo,” you muttered, still not looking up. lately, you never seemed to be in the mood, which felt weird to him. you'd never been overly affectionate, but you always showed interest when he spoke. now, it was as if you were there, but not really present.

the playfulness in his eyes dimmed, but he pushed forward. “tell me what’s going on, then. you’ve been—” he hesitated, choosing his words carefully. as much as he wanted to understand what was going on, he didn't want to make you angry. he knew a conversation wouldn’t get anywhere if one person was upset. “different. distant.”

“nothing’s going on,” you said too quickly.

“right.” he leaned back on the couch, folding his arms. “so you just suddenly decided to stop talking to me like a normal person for no reason?”

you sighed, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. you didn’t want to do this. you didn’t want to explain the mess in your head, how everything felt overwhelming, how you could feel yourself pulling away and didn’t know how to stop it. how it was easier to create distance than risk needing him too much.

“i just have a lot on my mind,” you said finally. “and you couldn’t tell me that?” his voice was gentler now, but there was a thread of frustration beneath it.

“it’s not a big deal.”

“it is a big deal if it’s making you act like this.” he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “i don’t get it. i’m here, i’m trying, and it feels like you’re just — pushing me away.”

you weren't sure what to say. it wasn't that you didn’t want to talk; you simply wanted to enjoy a movie in silence, with the occasional glance at your phone. you hadn't come here for a conversation, otherwise, you wouldn't have come at all.

you did what you do best, got up and said, "i'll be back." this was what you did; walk away when real emotions start to arise — so good at giving him nothing.

DAY 335:

“m’sorry, m’sorry,” you murmured as theodore lay behind you, spooning you tightly. one hand gripped the pillow beneath your head while the other rested on your hip, moving in and out of you. the pleasure he was giving you was overwhelming, making apologies spill from your lips, remembering the way you had treated him.

“i accept it—mhm... i’ll always fuckin’ accept it,” theodore whispered into your ear. lying on your side, you couldn't align your lips with his, so you settled for biting your bottom lip as he left fat, dark hickeys all over you, while your wet walls embraced him.

your back arched off of his chest as you let out a low squeal. although the sound felt both loud and embarrassing, you buried your face in the pillow. no matter how you felt, theodore always knew how to make you feel incredible. like that distant itch finally being scratched, bringing you a sensation that felt nothing short of heavenly.

even as he slipped his hand into your hair and pulled gently, the slight pain at your scalp was pleasurable. “so good, so fucking good…” you felt embarrassed by how loud you were, but you couldn't help it. amidst the overwhelming thoughts swirling in your mind, this was a different kind of release. a much-needed stress relief.

you both didn't even bother to fully undress; your shorts and underwear were bunched down to your knees, your bra unclasped, while your shirt was twisted up to your collarbones.

“mm... faster,” you gasped, even though theodore was already thrusting at a fast pace. but this was finally pulling you away from the chaos in your mind. utterly lost in the feeling, theodore complies, willing to do anything for you. he gives it his all; everything he has. “take it, take it, take it,” he urges.

DAY 340:

theodore’s excitement was noticeable from the moment you stepped into the vinyl shop. the bell above the door jingled, announcing your arrival, and he strode in like he owned the place, like he had been waiting all day for this. blue eyes excitedly darting from shelf to shelf, fingers wriggling with the need to sift through the collection.

“i’ve been meaning to bring you back here,” he said, a grin playing at the edges of his lips as he ran his hands along the spines of stacked records. “there’s so much i didn’t get to show you last time.”

you didn’t respond. you barely even looked at him. your arms remained crossed, your expression neutral. your shoulders were squared, posture stiff. that was the difference between you and theodore — he practically bounced on his feet with enthusiasm.

“oh! you have to see this one.” theo grabbed a record off the shelf and turned to you, holding it out like some grand discovery. the cover was a faded blue with worn edges, an old jazz album that you might’ve cared about once. his eyes flashed with excitement, waiting for your reaction.

you glanced at it for half a second before replying, “cool. y’should get it.”

his grin faltered, just slightly, before he covered it up with a forced chuckle. “okay, maybe not your style, but wait, what about this?” he reached for another one, something more in line with your usual taste. he flipped the cover over, tapping the tracklist like he was revealing some hidden jewel.

you met his gaze. “it’s fine.”

silence hung between you for a second too long. he blinked, clearly waiting for more — some indication that you were even remotely interested, that you were happy to be here with him. but you weren’t going to give him that.

he exhaled sharply, shaking his head with a soft laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “okay, tough crowd today.” he moved down the aisle, pretending like he wasn’t rattled. “oh, now this, this is one of my favorites.” he plucked another vinyl from the shelf, turning toward you with that same boyish excitement that should’ve made your chest tighten. “i swear, if you actually listen to this one, you’d—”

“i don’t need the sales pitch, theodore.” your voice was bland, cutting through his eagerness. his smile disappeared completely this time. “i’m just trying to share something with you.”

you let out a slow breath, keeping your expression impassive. “and i’m just here to get what i came for. that’s it.”

he looked at you then. the way your lips pressed into a thin line, the way your arms stayed crossed like a barrier between you both, the way your eyes didn’t hold the warmth they used to.

“right,” he muttered. he put the vinyl back on the shelf a little too carefully, like he suddenly had no idea what to do with his hands. you turned away from him, moving towards the counter to find what you actually came for. behind you, you could hear him shift his weight, debating whether to keep trying or to just let it be.

DAY 370:

theodore thought you brought him here to fix things. it was written all over his face; the slight hope in his eyes, the way his hands fidgeted with his coffee cup, like he truly believed this conversation would bring you both back to where you used to be. but as you sat across from him, staring at the swirling foam in your untouched drink, you knew that wasn’t going to happen.

you took a breath and said it. “i think we should stop seeing each other.”

the change in his expression was instant. you hesitated to look up, knowing that eye contact had never been your strong suit. you were certain that meeting his gaze would only make everything feel worse.

his fingers tightened around his cup, body stiffening like he’d just been blindsided. “what?”

you swallowed hard but kept your voice steady. “this thing we’re doing… it’s not normal.” it’s not. and it’s been chewing at you, consuming your thoughts for so long. you liked liking theodore, enjoying his presence, talking to him. but you hated when he started acting like a boyfriend instead of a friend. you noticed the jealousy in his eyes when other men talked to you, the way he’d get upset when you mentioned other friends, and how he’d always want to know where you were when you weren’t with him. but you don’t have the right to feel this way, because you’re the one who’s been leading him on: kissing him, touching him, being way too damn intimate. you just want it all to stop.

theodore let out a short, disbelieving laugh. in no way, shape, or form did he find this conversation funny, but as usual, he couldn’t take anything seriously. he always had to brush it off with a joke. “since when do you care about what’s normal?”

“i just…” you exhaled. “i think we’re forcing something that isn’t working.”

his brows furrowed. “that’s not true.”

you sighed, rubbing your temple. you hated that phrase. every time someone says, ‘that's not true,’ while you're expressing your feelings, it blows your mind. who do they think they are, deciding that what you feel isn’t how you feel? “theo—”

“no,” he cut you off, leaning forward. “yeah, we argue, but that doesn’t mean we’re not good together. we fight because we care. that’s what people do when they give a fuck.”

"that's exactly what i don’t want! look at us, arguing because we care! look at everyone staring at us like we’re crazy just because we care!" you shook your head, your voice lowering. "it shouldn’t be this hard all the time."

“it’s only hard because you make it hard,” he shot back. “you pull away, you shut me out, and then you tell me we don’t work. how the fuck is that fair?”

you looked down, your throat tightening. “i’m just trying to be honest.” the last thing you wanted was for frustrated tears to spill from your eyes: that’s the absolute last thing you needed, especially with people watching.

“honest?” he scoffed. “or just looking for another excuse to run?” run. you always ran when things got too complicated, when feelings you despised started to settle in your chest, tightening your throat as if it were closing in around you, threatening to suffocate you. you hated it. you hated it. you hated it.

before you could respond, a barista hesitantly stepped up to the table. “um… would you like anything else?”

theodore let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. the chair he had been sitting in creaked loudly as he stood up, drawing even more attention as people turned to look. the lady's eyes widened as theo brushed past her.

you couldn’t let him leave, not without a proper goodbye. your chest clenched. “theodore, don’t go. you’re still my best friend!” you blurted out, desperation slipping into your voice. his lips parted, for the smallest moment. then, jaw clenched, he shook his head slightly and walked away, leaving you sitting there.

theodore wasn’t the same after that night. it was like something inside him had been ripped out, leaving behind a hollowed out version. the change wasn’t instant, it crept in slowly, as if it were bleeding; staining everything in its path.

at first, they believed he’d snap out of it. mattheo, draco, pansy, blaise, and lorenzo each tried in their own way to pull him out from under whatever dark cloud had settled over him. mattheo cracked even more stupid jokes than usual, draping an arm around theo’s shoulders and dragging him into conversations he clearly didn’t want to be part of. draco would do something ridiculous, like tickling his foot, just to get some kind of reaction (which resulted in a foot to the face a moment later). pansy made excuses for his behavior when others asked why he seemed so distant, why he was never around anymore. blaise and lorenzo brought him drinks, snuck him out to parties, and even placed bets on how long it would take before he’d start acting like himself again.

but none of it worked. theodore was a ghost in his own skin, moving through the days like he was wading through a wide murk. he barely spoke unless he had to, barely ate unless someone reminded him. his usual charisma now felt forced. the man who had once carried himself with such cool confidence now looked like he was constantly on the verge of collapse, as if his thoughts were too heavy to carry; like having just finished a brutal workout and still being expected to run a marathon.

theo never thought the saying “life’s only worth living if someone’s loving you” could be so painfully true. but was it really love?

no. someone who truly loved him wouldn’t drag him along for so long just to throw him away like trash, while you act as the waste collector.

it didn’t take much to set him off: one wrong look, one thoughtless comment, one whisper that he misinterpreted. one second he’d be silent, and the next, he’d be lunging at some poor bastard, his temper burning through his veins like wildfire. there was one thing about wildfires: you either extinguish them carefully or let them spread. and your absence made the fire grow, until everything theodore touched felt like it was burning in his hands.

mattheo had to intervene when theo nearly broke someone’s nose at work because they had laughed a little too loudly at something he mistook for mockery. even blaise, the most patient of them all, ended up in a screaming match with him one night after telling him to “get over it.”

“you think i want to be like this?” theodore had snapped harshly. “you think i wake up every fucking morning and choose to feel like this?”

enzo was the only one who never pushed too hard. instead, he sat beside theodore when he needed it, offering quiet companionship rather than empty reassurances. but even enzo, as patient as he was, couldn’t bring back the light in theodore’s eyes.

nott thought this heartbroken feeling would only last a few days, maybe a few weeks. you never even dated, so surely, sure-fucking-ly, it wouldn’t hurt for this long.

130 days.

130 days of waking up to the same crushing emptiness, of drowning in memories he didn’t know how to escape.

130 days of avoiding certain places, certain people, because even the smallest reminder felt like a knife in his ribs.

130 days of pretending it didn’t hurt. and on day 500, he realized what he felt was certain: how he truly felt about you was final.

═════════════

THEODORE HATES the way your presence makes him feel, even when you're not around. like the scent of coconut on his sheets; he hates being reminded of you, of how you’d sleep in his bed, make him feel good, make him feel like he mattered. he's consumed by how your eyes hold an entire forest, pulling him in and leaving him lost. that’s what you do, isn’t it? you make him lose himself, hoping he could somehow find his way out.

he hates the way your lips curl around his name, filled with lies, how effortlessly you fed him one lie after another. he hates the softness of your voice when it’s just the two of you, knowing it meant nothing, friends don’t speak to each other like that.

he hates the way you touched him, how he can still feel your soft kisses on his neck, your moans muffled against his skin. he hates how your fingers would trace the back of his ear when you thought he wasn’t paying attention, because now, every time he remembers it, he flinches away.

god, he hates you. he hates you so much. he really fucking hates you.

[illusionly]

𝐕𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐥 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐰𝐨

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 - 18+ only. minors dni. Y/N tries to escape her controlling obsessed husband, he leaves a disturbing voicemail while she tries to find a way to leave him. contains dark themes and sexual scenes so minors pls dni.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 - 2k 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 - apologies, this is really long and unedited. but felt the need to put this out. 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃 - @bernardsbendystraws

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝!𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You begin to panic as Tom says, “Now, drop the phone.” His voice goes back to taunt her, “cause I’m right behind you”.

You feel a presence behind you, you turn around and there stands your husband, your captor, the dark lord himself, Tom Riddle.

"Hello, love" Your eyes bulge out, your heartbeat begins to quicken as you begins to panic. As your husband intimidatingly takes a step towards you, "You had me scared there" Your eyes widened for a second, your unemotional husband cared? no, you shake your head refusing to believe this, he doesn't care about you. He just wants to own you, it's been that way since your third year at Hogwarts together. Tom just licks his lips, as he steps closer to you. "but only for a second"

Your heartbeat quickens each step he takes, your heart begins to sink. Why are you feeling this pull, Why out of everything, you want him to grab you? Why do you want nothing more than your husband to embrace you? You stand there, now conflicted listening to your husband's taunts. "But, I knew I'd catch you" Tom places a hand on your cheek, stroking it. You flinch at his touch for a mere second, causing him to release a slight chuckle at your defiance. Why did that chuckle give you goosebumps? Tom smirks at you, his wife, who nevertheless would always come back to him. He offers his hand saying, "Now come with me, I'm going to take you back inside"

You just stand there frozen, scared for what your husband will do. “I'm going to have to ask you a few questions about how you figured out how to get out here” Tom moves around you, taunting you as he begins his questioning.

“How long have you been planning this?”

He strokes his chin as he circles around your frozen state,

“So many questions” 

He brushes up against you, placing a kiss behind your ear. 

“Don’t worry, I’m going to take you back to your favourite place” and that gets you out of your frozen state.

“No, please no-”

“Yes doll, my special little basement”

“Tommy-”

He interrupts, “I’m going to get some nice candles and of course some rope. So you don’t try to do anything stupid again”

You just gulp, as his lips brush against your neck, “to you know, really set the mood” he continues he sneers. Tom goes to entwine his hand with yours but you stand there frozen, refusing your husband and his face hardens.

"Y/N Y/M/N Riddle, you take my hand right now. Before I choose to give you your punishment right here" For a brief time, your eyes flutter, and you want him to say it again. How did the mere mention of your name give you butterflies?

Tom circled around you one more time, until you were eye to eye. He grabs your left arm and begins to admire it, from the dark mark on your forearm to your wedding ring. The evidence of your entrapment to him.

Tom places a tender kiss on the sensitive skin on your forearm.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” he asks, it’s more of a comment than a question.

Though you never intended to become one, what kind of dark lord's bride would you be if you didn't?

It's not so much a title as it is a statement to the world. They refer to you as the queen of the death eaters, and it declares to the world that you are his. 

You’re a prize to be kept, trapped in this very mansion.

“You got me all worked up doll”

He goes to stroke your face, tears still falling down your cheeks, “only my beautiful wife can get me to feel this way”

Your eyes locked onto each other, and you can feel yourself giving in. 

How did this come to be, how’d you become a Riddle, the wife of the Dark Lord, the future mother to the next heir to Slytherin, the possession of Tom Riddle the third.

God, how'd you get so lucky?

Your eyes fall to your husband's figure, finally seeing the remnants of grass and dirt. The normally put together man looks dishevelled and unkempt. You felt guilt sink into your stomach, you caused this?

Why did you try to run again?

"Love?" Your eyes flicker back to your husband’s face.

Tom stands, his chest against yours, his hands now take hold of your face.

"Are you even listening to me?"

You gulp, your husband's intense eyes harden. "I'm becoming really agitated, you need to listen to me" he declares. "I’m sorry" You cry. Tom just shakes his head giving you a disappointed look, dropping his hands. "Yeah? you're sorry?" He questions.

You begin to panic seeing your husband's stature begin to change.

That's not your husband anymore, that's the Dark Lord.

"Are you sorry that you struck my head?" Tom taunts as he takes a step forward, You then begin to take a step back.

Tom continues, "Are you sorry for taking my phone?"

You begin to feel yourself tear up again, anticipating what your husband is about to do.

"Are you sorry for trying to leave me?" Tom and You engage in a sort of dance in which you retract a step with each advance he makes. "Tommy-" You pleads, but before you know it you're pushed against a tree.

“Take your clothes off” 

Tom leans in, his lips brushing against your cheek, “you know I wasn’t fully satisfied this morning, after you tried to service me”

He places a tender kiss on your left cheek, tasing your salty tears.

“So, I’m going to use you”

You close your eyes, as he kisses your other cheek before saying, “right here”

Another kiss on the tip of your nose, “outside”

Tom pushes your up against the tree, “on the dirty ground which I own”

You can barely hold it together, “Tommy please”

He shakes his head, “strip love”

You cringe, “no please”

“Take your fucking clothes off love, before I tear them off”

For the first time you glance around and notices that the normally full backyard is empty. 

You don't know if you should be relieved or panic.

Probably the latter. Is that why no one helped you? Your husband sent everyone home.

Tom smirks, understanding your panic.

“I don’t care If you’re uncomfortable” Tom's hand is back stroking your cheek.

“You had me so worried for you” Tom confesses, your eyebrows crease. Still not used to your husband showing affection towards you.

His hand goes to stroke the crease between your brows trying to soften them, “you had me so uncomfortable all day” You watch toms hand stroke down to your lips, “you had me worried sick that you might have gotten away” 

He pulls you in and presses a light kiss onto your lips before whispering, “now strip doll, let me see your whole body again” 

Your heart sinks, and with that you begin to undo your shirt. Correction, Tom's shirt. You swear you’d do anything for this man and that’s the problem.

You lift your short skirt, and pull down your underwear. Feeling all exposed in front of your husband.

Tom goes to admire your figure, “mm fuck, that’s what I love to see”

You can’t help the little smile that appears with his comment.

Tom’s hand goes back to your body feeling it, “your tits, fuck they’re beautiful” 

You gain some confidence as you lean into his hand letting him grab you. “And that ass” he pauses, giving it a slap, making you yelp.

“Fuck doll” he turns you around, your exposed front now rubs against the tree.

“Bend over, let me spank you” 

And you obey.

*Smack

“You’ve been so naughty” You shut your eyes, anticipating your husbands next few moves. Mentally counting each strike.

*Smack

“You definitely deserve this”

*Smack

“Bad girl”

And now why did that do something to you?

You move your hips closer towards him, he just chuckles.

“You like this don’t you doll” 

*smack

“Yeah, my little wife, my fuck doll”

*smack

“You love it when I spank you don’t you love”

*smack

“Is this why you ran away?”

*smack

“Well, tried is a better way to put it”

You bite your lip at that, both knowing he’s right.

*Smack

“You just wanted daddy to punish you?

Yes, you were caught, he knew you so well.

Sure, you had a proper reason to run away, the need for freedom. But you also knew that wasn’t possible. 

Ever since you encountered the enigmatic, menacing dark lord in the rear. You knew there was no way out. He instantly had you in his clutches.

*smack

“Oh fuck!” you groan, 

Your husband just smirks, “I knew you had a daddy kink”

*smack

“That’s why we had so many breeding sessions love”

*smack

“Because my wife, my doll wants nothing more than her daddy, her dark lord, her husband to breed this-” pauses to smack your ass.

*smack

“Tight”

*smack

“Little”

*smack

“Cunt”

You can hear him chuckle behind you, his arms wrap around your waist.

“You’re dripping”

“Look at me” he says, his eyes intense and commanding. 

You gulp as he turns you around.

“My love, you did this to yourself”

You can’t help but nod, as he lifts his hand. The same hand that made your ass red.

A tender stroke to your cheek, wiping the last remnants of tears.

“You promise not to run away from me?”

And you nod.

“Use your words” Tom jeers.

You gulp trying to compose yourself as you finally speak, “yes daddy, I promise”

A satisfied grin appears on your husband's face.

“That's my girl”

You can’t help but beam at his praise.

“Now, get on your hands and knees” 

You hesitate as the ground beneath you is wet, there’s a glint in your husband's eye at your delayed motion.

“Right there, yes in the mud” 

You once again nod, getting into position.

There's sloshing around as your exposed knees get all wet as you kneel on the ground.

“Fuck love, that’s it”

Tom bends down to rub your red ass, “such a slut” And smacks it one more time.

You spread your legs all for him to see. 

You yelp but are interrupted by the sound of his zipper.

You can’t help it but you begin to rub your ass against him, proving your husband right as your knees get deeper into the mud.

He chuckles to himself, “ You’re getting all wet and dirty for me”

And you bow for your dark lord, your husband, your daddy.

Tom taps his cock against your exposed ass. 

You can’t help but moan with anticipation.

“That’s it, tell daddy how much you want him”

He slides it down, teasing your slit.

“Oh fuck, please” you groan.

“Beg for your punishment” 

And you do, whimpers coming out as you begin to wag your ass. Pleading for more.

He slides it in, only to pull out.

It’s his turn to groan, “you’re so wet for me”

And you just nod, wanting more.

He places his cock through your slit and you grind into it.

“I need you to beg for me, beg for my forgiveness”

“Please daddy”

And he chuckles, as you tease his cock.

“I need more than that love”

As you now grab onto the tree holding yourself up as you rub against him.

“Please”

He halts your hips, holding his cock as he wags it up and down your slit making your eyes roll back.

“I won’t fuck you until you apologise”

And you groan as he teases the tip.

“I’m sorry daddy, please forgive-”

You sigh as he thrusts in before pulling out.

Tom chuckles behind you, “I’m sorry, you were saying something”

And you try again, “I’m sorry, my lord. I promise, I won’t ever run away from you again” 

“You promise?”

He gives your ass one more hard smack, almost pushing you into the tree.

“Fuck, yess! I promise you my lord” 

Tom grins, “that’s a good girl”

He finally starts fucking you.

“Now, tell me you’re sorry for running away”

I'm sorry!” you whine,

“If you run away again, I won’t be so nice and fuck you love”

You nod, trying your best holding yourself up against the tree.

“Fuck, the way you’re tightening up against me tells me everything”

Your eyes are closed, feeling immense pleasure.

“You’re mine, you have my name, my mark and soon my heir”

Tom’s pace gets quicker and harder.

He chuckles, pausing his thrusts, his hand going down to rub your back. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re already pregnant, maybe you are”

Tom gives one more firm thrust, “good, because you know. The second you give birth to my child. You both will be trapped with me-” he halts to thrust into you, “forever” 

taglist. @breeistired @s4ge-gre3ns @laurajmcmanus @feistyfox47 @mrsgaunt-sallow @pawkikii @dasom22 @dreamswanttodie @cyan1decandy @jessicasalas @cloudydaysinmydreams @mandyki @33centaurrii @cprtzi @gothgirlez

[illusionly]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐧

𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃!𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 | 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 |

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -Ever since Y/N announced her pregnancy with twins, her entire family has gone into full protective mode—especially Tom, who has become what the kids jokingly call a Velcro Husband, never leaving her side. Mattheo enforces strict rest, Delphini refuses to stop cuddling her, and Marvolo has taken up cooking to make sure she’s eating properly.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 -Thought this would be cute...

𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃 - @bernardsbendystraws

Y/N sighed as she sat on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her, watching as her family hovered around her like she was the most fragile thing in existence.

She was only four months along—four. And yet, she hadn’t been left alone for more than five minutes since announcing she was pregnant with twins.

And the worst culprit? Her husband.

Tom Riddle, the Dark Lord himself, was now what the kids had lovingly dubbed a Velcro Husband—because, quite literally, he refused to be more than an arm’s length away from her.

"Tom," Y/N drawled, looking up at her husband, who sat beside her, his hand resting possessively on her stomach. "You do know I can still walk without supervision, right?"

Tom, utterly unfazed, hummed in response. "Why would you need to, when I can simply carry you?"

Delphini, who was curled up beside Y/N with her head resting against her mother’s shoulder, grinned. "It’s true, Mum. At this point, you should just let Dad levitate you everywhere."

Y/N rolled her eyes as Mattheo sauntered into the room, arms crossed, his usual air of confidence faltering just a little.

"Alright, I’m going to say this once—I do not want to see my mother lifting a single thing, walking too much, or even thinking too hard. Twins, Mum. That’s double the weight. We’re enforcing strict rest."

Y/N let out an exaggerated groan. "I’m only four months along!"

"Exactly," Marvolo, the youngest, called from the kitchen, where he was currently preparing Merlin-knows-what. "Which means it’s only going to get harder, so we might as well start protecting you now."

Y/N blinked. "Wait… Are you cooking?"

A pan clattered, followed by a string of muffled curses before Marvolo reappeared in the doorway, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel.

"Yes. I am. Because someone needs to make sure you’re eating enough nutrients."

Tom smirked, clearly proud. "Good, little one."

Marvolo grinned smugly, disappearing back into the kitchen.

Y/N groaned again, flopping back against the couch. "You’re all insane."

Mattheo scoffed. "Says the woman who keeps having children."

Tom shot their eldest son a warning look, but Y/N only smirked. "Careful, Mattheo. You wouldn’t want to stress me out, now would you?"

Mattheo froze, his eyes widening slightly before he quickly changed his tone. "I mean—love that for you, Mum. So proud. Thrilled, really."

Delphini giggled, wrapping her arms around Y/N’s. "Don’t listen to him, Mum. I, for one, am fully prepared to dedicate my life to keeping you safe."

Y/N narrowed her eyes. "Delphini, you have school. You can’t just—"

"Correction," Delphini interrupted. "I have priorities. And right now, that’s making sure you don’t do anything reckless."

Tom, still sitting beside her, smirked down at his wife, brushing his fingers against her cheek. "Face it, love. You’re under our Protection now. There’s no escaping it."

Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands as the entire room filled with smug grins and nods of agreement.

"Merlin help me."

"Merlin can’t save you now, Mum," Marvolo called from the kitchen. "But don’t worry—I made soup."

[illusionly]

𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃!𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 |

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: When Y/N is confronted by Tom Riddle, she realizes that his obsession with her is intertwined with a chilling promise of violence. As he embraces her, Tom makes it clear that he will stop at nothing to keep her safe, even if it means killing those who dare to touch her.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: Based on a scene from Sinners Condemned by Somme Sketcher

𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃 - @bernardsbendystraws

The dim light of the room flickered as the day’s last remnants faded, casting elongated shadows across the stone walls.

Tom Riddle strode in, exuding an air of confidence mixed with intensity. He paused, the door creaking softly behind him, and his heart sank at the sight before him.

Y/N sat at a small wooden table, a book open in front of her, but her focus was elsewhere.

A lanky figure leaned in too close, invading her personal space, fingers brushing against her arm as he spoke, oblivious to the tension thickening the air.

Y/N’s discomfort was palpable; she shifted in her chair, a strained smile on her lips, her eyes darting away as she tried to regain her composure.

“Y/N, love,” Tom called out, his voice smooth yet laced with an undercurrent of irritation. “Stand up.”

She hesitated, annoyance flickering across her features. “Really, Tom?” she shot back, pushing her chair back with a loud scrape that echoed through the room.

“Perfect,” he replied, a hint of satisfaction creeping into his tone. “Now take three steps to the left.”

With an exasperated huff, Y/N obeyed, her feet shuffling as she moved away from the table.

“Happy?” she challenged, crossing her arms defiantly, though unease lingered beneath her bravado.

Tom smirked, a chilling glint in his eyes. “Quite. Now close your eyes, my dear,” he commanded, his tone cool and deliberate.

The air around him crackled with dark energy as he lifted his wand, pointing it with precision at the man still lingering too close to Y/N.

“Avada Kedavra!”

A flash of green light erupted, and the man collapsed to the floor, lifeless before he even hit the ground. Y/N gasped, stepping back, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief.

“Tom!” she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of fear and anger. “You didn’t have to—”

“Didn’t I?” he interrupted, lowering his wand, the thrill of power evident in his demeanor. “I did it for you, Y/N. As your husband, it’s my duty to protect you, and you deserve better than that.”

He stepped closer, shadows enveloping them as he gazed down at her, intensity flickering in his dark eyes. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace.

The warmth of his body contrasted sharply with the chill in the air, and Y/N felt a rush of conflicting emotions surge through her.

“No, my dear,” he murmured into her hair, his voice low and fervent. “I’m the only one who truly sees your worth.” He drew back slightly to meet her gaze, his expression fierce yet tender. “I would do anything for you. Anything.”

His grip tightened, the sincerity of his words echoing in her mind. “Even if it means taking a life to protect you. You should know that.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, fear and admiration swirling within her as she processed his declaration.

The room fell silent, the weight of his promise hanging between them, mingling with the reality of their world—the danger, the darkness, and the lengths he was willing to go for her.

[illusionly]

𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃!𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 |

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: When Y/N is confronted by Tom Riddle, she realizes that his obsession with her is intertwined with a chilling promise of violence. As he embraces her, Tom makes it clear that he will stop at nothing to keep her safe, even if it means killing those who dare to touch her.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: Based on a scene from Sinners Condemned by Somme Sketcher

𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃 - @bernardsbendystraws

The dim light of the room flickered as the day’s last remnants faded, casting elongated shadows across the stone walls.

Tom Riddle strode in, exuding an air of confidence mixed with intensity. He paused, the door creaking softly behind him, and his heart sank at the sight before him.

Y/N sat at a small wooden table, a book open in front of her, but her focus was elsewhere.

A lanky figure leaned in too close, invading her personal space, fingers brushing against her arm as he spoke, oblivious to the tension thickening the air.

Y/N’s discomfort was palpable; she shifted in her chair, a strained smile on her lips, her eyes darting away as she tried to regain her composure.

“Y/N, love,” Tom called out, his voice smooth yet laced with an undercurrent of irritation. “Stand up.”

She hesitated, annoyance flickering across her features. “Really, Tom?” she shot back, pushing her chair back with a loud scrape that echoed through the room.

“Perfect,” he replied, a hint of satisfaction creeping into his tone. “Now take three steps to the left.”

With an exasperated huff, Y/N obeyed, her feet shuffling as she moved away from the table.

“Happy?” she challenged, crossing her arms defiantly, though unease lingered beneath her bravado.

Tom smirked, a chilling glint in his eyes. “Quite. Now close your eyes, my dear,” he commanded, his tone cool and deliberate.

The air around him crackled with dark energy as he lifted his wand, pointing it with precision at the man still lingering too close to Y/N.

“Avada Kedavra!”

A flash of green light erupted, and the man collapsed to the floor, lifeless before he even hit the ground. Y/N gasped, stepping back, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief.

“Tom!” she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of fear and anger. “You didn’t have to—”

“Didn’t I?” he interrupted, lowering his wand, the thrill of power evident in his demeanor. “I did it for you, Y/N. As your husband, it’s my duty to protect you, and you deserve better than that.”

He stepped closer, shadows enveloping them as he gazed down at her, intensity flickering in his dark eyes. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace.

The warmth of his body contrasted sharply with the chill in the air, and Y/N felt a rush of conflicting emotions surge through her.

“No, my dear,” he murmured into her hair, his voice low and fervent. “I’m the only one who truly sees your worth.” He drew back slightly to meet her gaze, his expression fierce yet tender. “I would do anything for you. Anything.”

His grip tightened, the sincerity of his words echoing in her mind. “Even if it means taking a life to protect you. You should know that.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, fear and admiration swirling within her as she processed his declaration.

The room fell silent, the weight of his promise hanging between them, mingling with the reality of their world—the danger, the darkness, and the lengths he was willing to go for her.

[illusionly]

𝐀 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝’𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃!𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 |

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: In a moment of rage, Tom confronts a follower after Y/N is injured, but her soothing voice brings him back from the brink.

𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃 - @bernardsbendystraws

In the softly lit chamber, the air was thick with tension as Tom Riddle paced before his gathered Death Eaters, his dark robes swirling like whispers of shadows around him. They had just returned from a mission, and unease crackled in the atmosphere.

In the chaos of the night, Y/N had sustained a small injury—a mere scrape on her arm—but the worry it stirred in Tom was far greater than he cared to admit.

“Who failed to protect her?” Tom’s voice boomed, each word laced with barely contained fury.

The Death Eaters exchanged nervous glances, their eyes wide with fear.

One young recruit, Fenwick, stepped forward hesitantly. “My Lord, it was an accident. She—”

“An accident?!” Tom interrupted, his eyes flaring like embers. “You think I care about excuses? My wife is hurt because of your incompetence!”

Tom’s anger filled the room like a dark cloud, suffocating all who stood before him. Fenwick flinched but held his ground. “We were ambushed, my Lord. We tried to protect her, but—”

“Not good enough!” Tom snapped, raising his wand, a flicker of magic sparking at its tip. “I should teach you a lesson you won’t forget.”

The other Death Eaters instinctively took a step back, anxiety washing over them as they braced for the worst.

“Tom! Wait!” Y/N called out, her voice cutting through the tension.

He paused, wand still raised, his fierce gaze snapping to her. The sight of her, worry etched on her face, momentarily softened his hardened demeanor.

“Love…” His voice dropped to a murmur, the fire in his eyes dimming just a fraction.

The Death Eaters held their breath, unsure of what to do as their master teetered between fury and concern.

Y/N stepped closer, her heart aching at the sight of him so torn. “Please, put the wand down. This isn’t the answer,” she urged, her tone steady yet gentle.

Tom's grip faltered, and the energy in the room shifted. “But they let you get hurt!” he spat, though the heat behind his words began to fade, revealing a vulnerability beneath.

“I’m fine, really,” she reassured him, taking another step forward. “It was just a scratch. You don’t need to punish anyone for it.”

But as Y/N lifted her injured arm to demonstrate, she winced at the pain, and Tom’s anger flared even hotter. He could see the discomfort etched on her face, the way her body recoiled from the injury, and it sent a wave of fury crashing over him. How could his followers have let this happen? How could they have failed to protect her? His jaw clenched tightly, muscles coiling as he fought to contain his wrath. The thought of punishing those who dared to let harm come to her felt all-consuming, and he straightened his stance, heart pounding with indignation.

His mind raced, envisioning the punishment he would bestow upon Fenwick and the others—hexes that would teach them a lesson they wouldn’t forget. They were supposed to be his elite followers, trained to protect him and, by extension, his beloved Y/N. But they had faltered, and he couldn’t stand the thought of any of them thinking they could allow her to be hurt.

“Don’t,” he warned, his voice a low growl, resonating with the darkness that threatened to overtake him. Just as he was about to unleash the spell, Y/N stepped closer, her presence like a beacon cutting through the storm of his fury.

“Tom,” she said softly, her voice slicing through the chaos in his mind. She reached up, cradling his face gently with her good arm. The warmth of her touch and the sincerity in her eyes melted away his rage like ice under the sun.

“But you got hurt,” he murmured, still struggling to contain the turmoil inside him. The weight of his protective instincts battled against the understanding that she was right.

Y/N nodded, her gaze steady. “They did the best they could.”

He continued to stare down at Fenwick, whose eyes widened in fear, flinching away from Tom's fiery gaze. The sight only fueled Tom's desire to unleash his anger. But Y/N gently turned his face toward hers, and he found himself leaning into her hand, finding solace in her touch.

“You are my everything,” he murmured, almost as if reminding himself of her importance. “I can’t lose you. I won’t.”

“I know,” she whispered, her heart swelling with affection for the man before her. “But you can’t let your anger take control. I need you, Tom—not just as the Dark Lord, but as my husband.”

Tom's expression crumbled, the fierce protector giving way to a man weighed down by love and vulnerability. He stepped closer, the tension in his shoulders finally easing as he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, love. I lost control. I just…”

Y/N reached out, placing her hand on his cheek, grounding him with her warmth. “It’s okay. You’re human, too. Just promise me you won’t let it come to this again.”

He nodded slowly, the intensity of his gaze softening. “I promise. But I need you to understand—I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you. You mean too much to me.”

The Death Eaters stood still, uneasy under the weight of their leader's vulnerability. Tom’s gaze flickered toward them, irritation creeping into his expression as he realized how exposed Y/N made him feel.

“Get out,” he commanded sharply, his voice slicing through the silence like a knife. The Death Eaters flinched, exchanging nervous glances before hastily obeying. They shuffled away, eager to escape the tension in the air, their loyalty shaken by the sight of their master so unguarded.

Once they were gone, the room felt lighter, but the vulnerability lingered, a stark contrast to the darkness that surrounded them

As the door clicked shut, Tom reached for Y/N, pulling her into a warm embrace. She melted against him, feeling the safety of his presence.

He brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his voice low. “You’re my weakness, Y/N. You always have been.”

Her heart fluttered at his admission, and she pressed her forehead against his. “And you’re mine, Tom. I’ll always be okay; just trust your followers.”

He nodded, trying to steady his racing heart, knowing she was right, yet unable to shake his worry.

In that moment, surrounded by shadows and memories of what could have been, they found solace in each other. The world outside might be dark and dangerous, but here, in each other’s arms, they created a light strong enough to combat it all.

[illusionly]

𝐀 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧’𝐬 𝐆𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓| 𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓| 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 |

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 - Tom, always the gentleman, effortlessly helps Y/N out of her heels after a long day. As she teases him about still holding onto his cigarette, Tom’s care for her is evident in every action, from his soft touch to his playful remark. The moment becomes a sweet exchange of affection as Y/N jokes about his addiction, and Tom, ever the charmer, admits his true addiction: her.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 - Literally inspired by the photo used above.

𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃 - @bernardsbendystraws

The soft crackle of the fireplace filled the quiet room, its warmth contrasting with the crisp chill of the evening outside.

Tom sat in his favorite chair, one leg draped over the armrest, a cigarette held loosely between his fingers. He exhaled slowly, the smoke curling lazily into the air, his dark eyes half-lidded in quiet contemplation.

Y/N, meanwhile, had just entered from the hallway, struggling to unfasten the straps of her heels. She made a face as the shoes didn’t seem to want to cooperate, bending slightly to tug at them in frustration.

Tom noticed the shift in her posture and raised an eyebrow, his cigarette still dangling effortlessly from his lips. It was a small moment, but it was enough to make him put down his thoughts and focus entirely on her.

With a quiet grace, he set the cigarette in his mouth and stood up, moving toward her without hesitation.

It was second nature to him now—his constant care for her, whether she needed it or not. Kneeling in front of her, he didn’t even hesitate as his hands gently worked to unbuckle the strap of her first shoe.

Y/N, glancing down at him, smiled softly. "You always do this," she teased, amused by the ease with which he helped her out of her shoes. "I don’t think I’ve ever had to take off my shoes myself around you."

Tom simply gave a small smirk, working on the second shoe with deft fingers. "You shouldn’t have to," he murmured, his gaze focused on her feet as he carefully slid off the second heel.

His voice was calm, but the care in his touch was undeniable—this was just another of those quiet gestures of affection that had become second nature to him.

Y/N let out a small, soft chuckle, her eyes flicking down to the cigarette still dangling from his mouth. "But really, Tom," she teased lightly, "why haven't you extinguished that yet? You’re doing all this with a cigarette in your mouth."

Tom’s smirk didn’t waver as he straightened up, placing the shoes carefully to the side. "I prefer to keep it for now," he replied, the cigarette still balanced there.

She shook her head, amused, and reached up to gently take the cigarette from his mouth, bringing it to her lips. "Honestly, you’re addicted," she teased as she inhaled, a playful smile curving her lips.

Tom raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly closer. "Addicted? To a cigarette?" he chuckled, his voice low with affection.

He reached up, his hand cupping her cheek as he leaned in to kiss her softly on the cheek. "No, love. I’m addicted to you."

Y/N, feeling the warmth of the kiss, smiled affectionately, pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. She exhaled the smoke slowly, her voice soft but teasing. "Well, then, I guess I’m addicted to you, too."

Tom’s smile deepened, the air between them light and easy, as he kissed her cheek again—this time, with more warmth, more promise, his lips lingering slightly longer before he pulled away, his eyes twinkling with affection.

"You’d better be," he murmured, his hand still resting gently on her cheek. "Because I’ll never be anything less than completely devoted to you."

Y/N chuckled, setting the cigarette aside, her heart swelling with love for him. "Lucky for you," she whispered back, leaning in for another soft, lingering kiss. "I wouldn’t want it any other way."

[illusionly]

𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞

𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃!𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 |

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: As Y/N prepares to lie about her last name to avoid revealing her infamous husband’s identity, Tom Riddle arrives just in time. Wrapping his arm around her possessively, Tom introduces her with a chilling threat, leaving Harry regretting ever approaching Y/N.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: Based on Dialogue in the book Play Along by Liz Tomforde 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃 - @bernardsbendystraws

The elegant hum of the restaurant buzzed softly around Y/N as she sat at a corner table, her fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass absently.

The dim candlelight flickered, casting warm shadows over the white linen tablecloth as she glanced at the entrance every few minutes, waiting for Tom. He was running late. Again.

She tried not to look too impatient, choosing instead to focus on the atmosphere—the clinking of silverware, soft conversation, and the occasional burst of laughter from another table.

It was a high-end place, one Tom had suggested, not that they frequented restaurants often. But tonight was different. He had insisted on dinner, something about celebrating.

Just as she was starting to feel the weight of Tom’s absence, a voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

Y/N looked up, surprised, and saw a man—handsome, in an unassuming way, with tousled Black hair, Glasses and a confident smile—gesturing to the seat opposite her.

“I’m waiting for someone, actually,” she replied politely, hoping the man would take the hint.

But he didn’t.

“Well, I don’t see him,” he said, pulling the chair out without waiting for permission. “I’m Harry, by the way.”

Y/N sighed inwardly. She had hoped to spend a quiet evening with her husband, but now this random stranger was attempting to charm her.

“Y/N,” she offered with a polite smile, but gave no further information. She wasn’t about to drop her full name—not when the surname Riddle would send any sane person running in terror. Best to keep things…simple.

“Y/N, that’s a beautiful name,” Harry grinned, leaning forward slightly. “So, what do you do, Y/N? It’s rare to see someone sitting alone in a place like this.”

She gave a tight smile, feeling her patience waning. “I’m really just waiting for my husband.”

Harry’s eyes flickered with brief disappointment, but then his grin widened, undeterred. “He must be a lucky man. Though, if you ask me, leaving someone as stunning as you alone like this… well, I wouldn’t make that mistake.”

Y/N shifted in her seat, the discomfort growing. She glanced again at the door, silently wishing Tom would arrive sooner rather than later.

The last thing she needed was this man pressing further.

“So, what’s your last name?” Harry asked suddenly, clearly trying to keep the conversation alive. “Just curious. You don’t meet too many people named Y/N.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Panic flashed through her mind as she scrambled to think of a response that wouldn’t send this poor guy into a panic attack. Lying seemed like the best option, if only to keep things from getting awkward.

“Oh, it’s—” she began, her brain working quickly to fabricate something on the spot.

But before she could finish, she felt it. A familiar presence. A cold shiver down her spine.

A hand slid possessively around her waist, pulling her back gently into a firm chest. The scent of dark magic and something distinctly Tom filled her senses.

“Riddle,” came the smooth, low voice she knew all too well. “Her last name is Riddle.”

Harry visibly paled, his eyes widening in shock as Tom Riddle—her husband, the Dark Lord himself—stood tall behind her, his dark eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and dangerous intent. He didn’t even spare Harry a glance, his gaze focused solely on Y/N as his lips curled into a smirk.

The tension at the table shifted instantly. Harry swallowed hard, clearly regretting every word he had just uttered. His face was ashen as he realized the gravity of his situation. This wasn’t just any woman he had been flirting with—this was Tom Riddle’s wife.

“I-I’m sorry,” Harry stammered, barely able to get the words out, but Tom held up a hand, silencing him before he could fully grovel.

“Now,” Tom’s voice was deadly calm, the smirk still playing at the corner of his lips, “stay away from my wife, before I curse you into another life.”

The threat was delivered so casually, so smoothly, that it sent a chill through Y/N despite the warmth of his touch. Harry looked like he might faint, his eyes darting between Tom and Y/N, unsure whether to run or plead for mercy.

But Tom wasn’t paying attention to the man’s panic. His attention shifted back to Y/N, his hand sliding from her waist to gently cup her cheek, his fingers lingering as he planted a possessive kiss on her forehead.

Y/N leaned into his touch, feeling the firm press of his lips, though she knew better than to think it was a gesture of affection. No, Tom was making a point, staking his claim before an audience. He wasn’t one for public displays of affection, not usually, but tonight, it seemed, he wanted everyone to know she belonged to him.

Still, she embraced it, allowing herself to sink into the brief tenderness.

Tom straightened, finally acknowledging the other man with a chilling, dismissive glance. “Go,” he said simply.

Harry needed no further prompting. He nearly tripped over the chair in his haste to leave, practically running out of the restaurant as if he’d just been spared from death itself.

Once the man was gone, Tom’s smirk returned, his thumb brushing over Y/N’s jaw as he tilted her face up to meet his eyes. There was that familiar glint of possessiveness in his gaze, and something darker—something only she ever saw.

“Apologies for my lateness, darling,” he murmured softly, though there was no apology in his tone. His eyes sparkled with satisfaction, clearly amused by what had just transpired.

Y/N shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You always have a way of making an entrance, don’t you?”

Tom’s smirk deepened, and he leaned down to whisper in her ear, his breath hot against her skin. “Only when necessary.”

And somehow, despite everything, Y/N found herself leaning into him, feeling safe in the dark embrace of the man the rest of the world feared.

[illusionly]

slytherin boys reacting to their darling being from Ravenclaw?👀

SLYTHERIN GUY'S REACTION TO YOU BEING IN RAVENCLAW | ✧⁺。

Pairing : (Mattheo , Tom , Theodore, Lorenzo , Draco) x reader

Note : tysm for requesting i hope you like it , Hufflepuff is next 🕺🏻🕺🏻

Warning : not proofread, my jokes lmao

MATTHEO RIDDLE

Being with Mattheo is like living in a perpetual comedy sketch. Every time you dazzle him with your Ravenclaw wit, he can't help but playfully roll his eyes and joke about feeling like a first-year struggling with a broomstick. "Seriously, babe, how do you do it?" he'd exclaim, his amusement clear in his eyes. "You've got more brainpower than a room full of Hogwarts professors, and here I am, struggling to remember which potion turns a mouse into a snuffbox."

Despite his self-deprecating humor, you can see the genuine admiration in his eyes, knowing that he's completely smitten with your cleverness. And hey, if being the smart one in the relationship means you get to see that adorable look of amazement on his face, then maybe being a Ravenclaw isn't so bad after all.

TOM RIDDLE

Tom, on the other hand, is a different story altogether. With his competitive nature and Slytherin pride, he can't stand the thought of being outsmarted by anyone, especially his own girlfriend. Every time you happen to know something he doesn't, he's quick to brush it off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Oh, so you think you're the expert now, do you?" he'll say, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. "Just remember who's supposed to be the genius in this relationship."

Despite his competitive edge, you can't help but find it amusing how seriously he takes it all. After all, who knew that trivia night with your boyfriend would turn into a high-stakes battle for intellectual supremacy?

THEODORE NOTT

Theodore, on the other hand, couldn't be more different. He absolutely adores your cleverness, finding your sassy remarks and witty banter completely irresistible. "My darling beauty with brains," he'll say, flashing you a charming smile. "You keep me on my toes, love, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

With Theodore, every conversation feels like a game of verbal chess, with each witty comeback and clever remark only adding to the sparks flying between you. And hey, if being a smartass means getting to see that adorable grin on his face, then sign you up for Ravenclaw house forever.

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

Lorenzo, with his laid-back demeanor and sharp sense of humor, finds your intellect both amusing and slightly irritating at times. "Do you ever turn that brain off, or is it just permanently stuck in overdrive?" he'll tease, though there's a fondness in his eyes that tells you he wouldn't have it any other way.

Despite his occasional annoyance, you know that he secretly loves your quick wit and sharp mind, even if it means enduring the occasional eye roll or sarcastic remark.

DRACO MALFOY

And then there's Draco, the epitome of Slytherin arrogance and charm. While he may grumble about your Ravenclaw intelligence, secretly, you know he's secretly impressed by your cleverness. "Bloody hell, can't you dumb it down a bit ?" he'll joke, though there's a hint of genuine awe in his tone. "But hey, I guess it's better than having a girlfriend who thinks Quidditch is a type of biscuit."

With Draco, every conversation feels like a battle of wits, with each snarky remark and witty comeback only adding to the undeniable chemistry between you. And while he may be a bit of a brat at times, you wouldn't have him any other way. After all, what's a little friendly rivalry between Slytherin sweethearts?

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　 　 　。

[illusionly]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞

𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃!𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 | 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 |

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -Tom’s attempt to unwind in his wife’s lap is disrupted when their son Mattheo seeks her assistance. As Mattheo insists and Tom refuses to let her go, the Riddle family humorously reveals just how clingy they can be when it comes to Y/N.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 - Just couldn't stop imagining Tom glaring at Mattheo while kissing your cheek sooooo.... I wrote it.

𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃 - @bernardsbendystraws

The door creaked open, and Y/N glanced up from her book, a soft smile spreading across her face as her husband, Tom Riddle, stepped into the living room.

His dark eyes seemed wearier than usual, and his sharp features relaxed as they landed on her.

Without a word, he crossed the room, shedding his coat and tie, and gently scooped her up from her spot on the couch.

"Tom—!" she squealed, laughing as he settled her sideways into his lap, arms wrapping snugly around her waist.

"Shh," he murmured, burying his face in her neck. "Long day. Don’t move."

Y/N chuckled, her hands instinctively threading through his dark curls. "You could’ve just asked, you know."

"I don’t ask," he muttered, his lips curving into a ghost of a smile against her skin.

A beat of silence passed, peaceful and warm, before it was broken by the soft patter of footsteps.

Their son, Mattheo, appeared in the doorway, his brown eyes sparkling with determination as he marched toward them.

"Mum, I need your help," Mattheo announced, his gaze fixed solely on her.

Tom barely lifted his head, but his sharp, piercing gaze zeroed in on their son. "What do you need help with?"

Mattheo ignored his father entirely, his attention fixed on Y/N. "Mum, please. It’s important!"

Y/N opened her mouth to reply, but Tom's arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer.

She shot him a look, but he only shook his head slightly, his meaning clear: You’re not going anywhere.

"Mattheo," Tom said, his voice smooth but firm. "Surely, whatever this is, you don’t need your mother for it. What about your sister? Or the house elves?"

Mattheo crossed his arms, his little jaw set in defiance. "I don’t want them. I want Mum."

Tom's eyes narrowed, a glint of amusement and mischief flickering through the fatigue.

"Your mother is busy." He looked down at Y/N, his lips twitching into a smirk. "Aren’t you, my love?"

Y/N sighed, exasperated. "Tom—"

But her words were cut off as he pressed a soft, deliberate kiss to her cheek, then another.

"Really?" she muttered, trying to suppress a laugh as his lips lingered a little longer on the same spot.

Mattheo groaned dramatically. "Dad! Stop hogging her! I need her help!"

Tom raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. "Do you now? Because it sounds to me like you just want her attention."

"Yes, I do!" Mattheo declared, his tiny fists balling up.

Y/N gave her husband a pointed look. "Tom, let me up. I’ll help him quickly, and then—"

"Absolutely not," Tom interrupted smoothly, kissing her cheek again for good measure. "This is my time. He can wait."

"Tom," she warned, though her tone was soft, and a hint of laughter betrayed her.

Mattheo let out an exasperated huff. "You’re so annoying!"

"And you’re clingy," Tom retorted dryly, resting his chin on Y/N’s shoulder. "It runs in the family."

"I get it from you!" Mattheo shot back, and Y/N couldn’t hold back her laugh this time.

"Enough, both of you!" she said, trying to wiggle free. "I’m not going to sit here while you two argue over me like I’m a trophy—"

But Tom only held her tighter, his lips brushing against her ear as he murmured, "You’re my trophy. And I don’t share."

"Tom," she groaned, though her cheeks warmed at his possessiveness.

Mattheo, however, was undeterred. "Fine! You can keep her for five minutes. But I’m coming back!"

"Take ten," Tom called after him, smirking as the boy stomped off.

Y/N arched an eyebrow at him, though the hint of a smile betrayed her amusement. "You’re utterly ridiculous, you know that?"

"And you’re mine," he replied smugly, finally relenting as he buried his face into her neck again. "Now stop trying to escape and let me enjoy this."

She sighed, rolling her eyes but letting herself relax in his arms. After all, there was no reasoning with Tom Riddle when he was in one of these moods.

[illusionly]

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃!𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 | 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 |

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 - Feared by many, ruthless to most, but utterly devoted to one—Tom Riddle is completely wrapped around his baby daughter’s tiny finger. When Y/N and Mattheo walk in to find him covered in glitter and indulging Delphini’s every whim, they realize one undeniable truth: the Dark Lord is definitely a girl dad.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 - Requested to write a fic with baby Delphini

𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃 - @bernardsbendystraws

The sound of tiny feet pattering against the floor echoed through the grand estate, followed by the softest giggles that could melt even the coldest of hearts.

Tom Riddle—Dark Lord, feared professor, and terror of many—stood in the middle of the living room, his once-immaculate robes now covered in glitter.

His dark curls were slightly disheveled, evidence of little hands having played with them, and in his large, formidable hands, he held the tiniest golden crown, gently placing it atop his daughter’s wild curls.

Delphini, his tiny whirlwind of chaos and curls, beamed up at him, her eyes shimmering with adoration. “Daddy! I a pwincess now?” she asked, her voice filled with innocent excitement as she twirled in her little dress.

Tom crouched down, his piercing gaze softening in a way it never did for anyone but her. He adjusted the small tiara on her head, smoothing down her curls. “You were always a princess, my love,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Delphini giggled, wrapping her little arms around his neck. “You my pwincess too, Daddy.”

Tom chuckled—actually chuckled—as he lifted her with ease, holding her close. “Oh, is that so?” he teased, raising a brow. “Am I not a king, at the very least?”

She gasped dramatically, shaking her head. “No, Daddy! You too pretty to be a king.”

Tom smirked, pressing a hand to his chest. “You hear that?” he mused to himself. “At least someone in this house appreciates me.”

Just then, the front door creaked open, and Y/N walked in, their eldest son Mattheo trailing behind her.

She paused at the sight before her—her fearsome husband standing in the middle of the room, covered in glitter, holding their giggling daughter who was now tugging at his tie, while wearing a crown he most definitely had not put on himself.

Y/N blinked. “Tom…”

Mattheo looked between his father and sister before snorting. “Oh, this is gold. Wait till the world hears the Dark Lord is actually a girl dad.”

Tom shot him a deadly glare, adjusting Delphini on his hip. “Say another word, and I’ll transfigure you into a rat and leave you in the Forbidden Forest.”

Mattheo smirked. “I think you’re bluffing.”

With a flick of his wrist, Tom summoned his wand, pointing it directly at his son. “Try me.”

Mattheo quickly stepped behind his mother. “Okay, okay, noted. No slandering the ‘pretty princess’ of the house.”

Delphini gasped, turning to her mother. “Mummy! I told Daddy he’s too pwetty to be a king!”

Y/N, barely holding back her laughter, smiled as she walked over, pressing a kiss to Tom’s cheek. “That’s because he is, sweetheart.”

Tom rolled his eyes, though the corners of his lips twitched. “I am surrounded by imbeciles,” he muttered, though he held Delphini even closer.

His little girl, his tiny princess—there was no force in the world that would ever harm her while he was around.

And he would always be around.