#tom riddle x oc

[cloveswifey]

Clingy

Dad!Tom riddle X Fem!Reader

Fluff

"Mommy is mine!" Mattheo, your spirited three-year-old, shouted, pushing Tom's face away from you.

"Excuse me?" Tom feigned offense, placing a hand over his chest dramatically. "She is married to me, little buddy." He proudly displayed your ring on his finger, causing Mattheo to cry in despair. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at your husband's playful antics.

Mattheo had definitely entered that clingy phase. He only wanted you to feed him, hug him, play with him, and put him to sleep. He absolutely despised when Tom even gave you a little peck on the lips, and oh, was Tom having fun teasing your little one.

In the past few days, Mattheo's clinginess seemed to escalate. Not that he wasn't clingy before, but now it had become even more intense. As you tried to cook, his little hands would constantly explore your body, causing him to become upset when Tom was around. In an attempt to scare Tom away, Mattheo would even throw his food at him, which only made Tom laugh even harder.

You gave Tom a knowing look and remarked, "I wonder where he got his bad temper from."

Tom affectionately placed a hand on your growing stomach and whispered against your head, "Let's hope this little one isn't as jealous as his brother."

[webbluvrsugar]

teaching Tom Riddle how to love.

cw: fluff with smut

He has you pinned on his bedsheets, you’ve sneaked away to his chambers just to do this, it’s not like you’ve been dating, but you’ve been hanging around — and fucking — each other for a while now, and for Tom, that’s a really big deal.

He’s been fucking you the way he wishes the past times, hard, rough, with your head flush against the pillow, ramming into you without any sorts of feelings, without attaching himself, it’s nice, pleasurable, but he’s been doing it for himself.

He’s inside you already, cock stretching you out as he stays still, his head leans down to meet your neck, breathing your scent before he kisses your jaw, his lips moving to your ear.

“Tell me how you like it.” His voice is low and it grumbles in your ear, when you can’t answer right away, he gives you a slight thrust.

Your hands goes to his on your hips, slightly pushing him back before taking his hands and placing them over your breasts, his breath itches, he slightly massages the flesh, toying with your nipples as he lets you guide him.

“Slowly…” you mutter, he carefully starts moving his hips in a pace he hasn’t used before, it all feels foreign, somehow more intimate but it still gets you to mewl so he doesn’t complain. “Like that.”

Tom nods, he keeps rolling his hips into you, slow and soft so you can feel exactly every way his cock stretches you out, letting out slow whimpers as he does it.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, another soft whisper in your ear as he makes his thrusts a little more sharp, taking your air out of your lungs and forcing a moan out of you.

“Yes, just… hold me close.” You ask, hands wrapping around his neck to pull him flush to your body, slightly burying your head on your shoulder.

Tom hasn’t felt like this before, like he’s being needed, he also didn’t think that slow, passionate sex would feel so nice when he obviously prefers to do it the hard way.

But you like it.

So he keeps doing it the way you asked him to, leaning into the pleasure your cunt provides as the time passes, and when you’re done and both lazy and mushy next to each other, your head flush to his chest, he lets himself provide that care to you, hesitantly dragging a hand to your hair and brushing it away to see your face, thumb lightly caressing your exposed cheek.

‘It’s not so unpleasant after all’ he thinks.

[slytherinslut0]

tom riddle. | this is your punishment

PAIRING: tom riddle x fem!reader

SUMMARY: prefect tom riddle catches you breaking the rules again, and this time decides to provide a different type of punishment he’s certain you won’t soon forget.

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

TAGS: 18+, SMUT MDNI, dubcon (entirely consensual), dom!tom, brat!reader, BDSM (light), intense humiliation kink, sexual punishment/ forced orgasm, inappropriate use of magic/spells, clit-stim orgasm, begging.

You had thirty minutes.

Thirty minutes to dance with disaster. Thirty minutes to dodge destruction. Thirty minutes to descend into the depths of the library, infiltrate the restricted section, slip the book on occlumency you clandestinely borrowed back into its rightful place, and ascend back to your dormitory before the harbinger of your nightmares—Head Prefect Tom Riddle—emerges from the prefects' bathroom and winds his way back down to the dungeons.

Thirty minutes felt like both an eternity and a heartbeat. The weight of impending doom pressing down on your chest as you crept through the darkened corridors, each shadow a lurking menace, each creak of the ancient floorboards a deafening scream that could betray your presence.

And though the stakes were disastrously high, you weren't entirely worried; you knew Tom Riddle's schedule as intimately as the lines on your palm, and he was nothing if not a creature of habit. But of course, there was always the chance. The slim, terrifying possibility that he might deviate from his usual routine. And being caught by him was the absolute last thing you needed right now.

Every second felt like a blade poised above your head, ready to drop at the slightest misstep. It was no secret that Tom Riddle had it out for you. By now, it was practically etched into the very stones of Hogwarts, a fact as immutable as gravity. Everywhere you went, every step you took, he was always there—watching, waiting, eager to catch you in some transgression.

The relentless scrutiny was exhausting. The number of detentions you'd served was staggering, the punishments you'd endured endless. Not to mention the droning, entirely condescending lectures and disappointed yet gleeful stares he always made sure to give you as he personally hauled you to Dumbledores office.

It was all bullshit, and certainly had nothing to do with your frequent rule-breaking or constant sneaking around. No, of course not. You most definitely never toed the line. You were as innocent as they come. As pure as the driven snow. In your mind it all boiled down to the fact that Tom Riddle had it out for you, plain and fucking simple. A personal vendetta written into the fabrication of his identity.

Because even if he did. Even if he did somehow manage to track you and uncover your clandestine activities by just being the perceptive cunning bastard that he is, there are certain things that simply defy logic. Some occurrences that just don't add up.

There are just some instances that can't be explained, save for the simplest conclusion: Tom Riddle has been inside your mind for months.

And that was precisely why you sought out the book on Occlumency—you needed it. Needed to learn how to block Tom out because if he wanted to play mind games, you were determined to play better. You were determined to keep up.

You knew Tom took pleasure in continually getting one step ahead of you, and as much as it utterly ticked you off—perhaps a twisted part of you enjoyed being caught by him—savoured the banter you shared including his threats that next time he'd take matters into his own hands, since even Dumbledore was growing tired of your antics. Perhaps you revelled in provoking him, in defying him like no other student dared, relishing the thrill of the chase.

Perhaps you simply loved to hate him. Because he was always so goddamn good at everything, always in control. It was maddening, intoxicating, and you couldn't deny the rush it gave you. His perfection was a thorn in your side, and yet, you craved it, sought it out like a moth to a flame, even if you'd never admit it.

Not to yourself, and most definitely not to him.

As the night droned on, you managed to make it to the library unscathed, slipping into the restricted section unseen. Everything was going according to plan, not a soul around to forsake you. And yet, just as you slipped the book back onto its origin shelf, you heard a distant yet distinct voice, accompanied by the determined clacking of perfectly polished dress shoes.

"—ah, yes. I believe I informed him that I would have an answer by tomorrow evening."

That voice. You could never fucking mistake it.

"—well, yes, Mr.Riddle—but he said—"

"No matter." The footsteps ceased. "You'll both await my determination until tomorrow's eve. Continue pressing and I will see to make you wait two more."

The bile rose in your throat, threatening to spill over onto the floor beneath you. His arrogance had always been a towering monument, casting shadows that seemed to suffocate all reason. Sure, he was the brightest star in the firmament, undeniably brilliant with features rivaling the gods themselves—chiseled jawline, captivating dark eyes—practically born to bask in his own glory.

Yet, for all his outward perfection, his self-assurance bordered on the verge of the grotesque.

"—yes, o-of course, Mr. Riddle..." you stifled a distasteful scoff. You weren't sure how that individual was even standing with such lack of spine. "—t-thank you, sir."

You didn't stick around to hear a response or the lack thereof. The voices were far enough to keep you breathing but close enough to damn near make you faint because you knew he was most likely just outside the iron gates. You couldn't afford to ponder the improbability of his presence or the surrealness of your predicament. You had to move—deeper, further out of sight.

Which was going perfectly well until you rounded a corner with a little too much intensity and collided directly into a small round table. The sharp screech of wood against wood cutting through the thick silence like a blade, echoing ominously in the vast, dim library. Panic seized you, every nerve electrified, as if the table's cry had been your own.

And it was roughly ten devastating seconds after this that you heard the creak of the iron gates opening behind you, and those same polished footsteps drawing forward with haste.

Fucking hell.

You'd spent enough time in the Forbidden Forest to know how to keep your calm, to know how to effectively avoid being noticed—how to silence your footsteps and slip around obstacles without leaving a trace, how to mask your scent with earth and leaves, how to blend into the shadows to avoid becoming prey to the creatures that lurk in the depths. Yet, the only predator you'd never been able to successfully evade was the one you were currently running from.

Tom Marvolo Riddle.

A shadow that clung to you, a hunter whose senses were always sharper, whose instincts were always keener. No matter how well you hid, he always seemed to find you, as if he could sense the very beat of your heart.

Tonight—to your naive surprise, was no different.

"Think you can hide from me, do you?" Tom's voice slithered through the narrow gap between the shelves, smooth and dark as midnight. "Not quite stealthy enough, I'm afraid."

You pressed your back against the cold wood, trying to steady your breathing, but his words seemed to wrap around your throat, squeezing the air out of your lungs and replacing it with something dizzying.

"Why don't you come out, little snake?" He purred, his footsteps drawing closer, each one a death knell. "We both know how this game ends."

Little snake. Two words that rooted you to the spot. It was impossible, inconceivable that he could know it was you. Yet the nickname, the venomous familiarity of it, left no room for doubt.

You slipped around the corner, the two of you making calculated moves like chess pieces. Your board was one of evasion, his one of domination. The gates were in clear view now as you paused to determine his position, silently mapping the space between here and there, certain that if you ran fast enough you could make it—if you moved quietly enough he wouldn't know which direction you were heading.

"You're only making this worse for yourself, darling." Arrogance so thick you weren't sure how he wasn't choking on it. And as much as you detested it, something about it sparked heat between your thighs. "You know I always win."

With the desperation of a cornered, wounded animal, you decided you were done playing and began making a silent yet brisk path toward the gates. You knew you could get about three shelves deep before you needed to take cover again. The silence was deafening, urging you to move faster.

And just as you were about to reach your next hiding spot, just about to duck back in between the shelves, a sudden sensation of pressure coiled around your ankle, cementing you to the spot.

"What the f-"

It was as if the very air had turned to iron, suffocating you with its weight. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared down, disbelief flooding your senses. The once innocuous carpet beneath your feet now glowed with enchantment, its fibres twisting and contorting, snaking around your ankles and climbing steadily up your calves.

"There she is." It was an echo from behind you, deep vocal inflection choking you with its pride. "Always so deliciously predictable.”

The fibres wound tightly around your upper calves, constricting tighter against your leggings as you squirmed, struggling to free yourself. Tom appeared beside you with a leisurely saunter, his smirk so smug it seemed almost tangible.

Your frustration bubbled over into a groan of disbelief. "You charmed the fucking carpet?"

"Of course," Tom replied. "Why do things the hard way when magic can do it for you?" He stepped closer, his eyes roaming over you, drinking in your entirety, running the tip of his wand up your arm. "You should know, little snake, I always find a way to catch my prey."

You watched as two dark eyes dipped low, lingering over the thickness of your thighs, fighting against the tendrils of the enchanted carpet that had now crawled tightly around them. You certainly felt like captured prey, tangled in a web of his making, awaiting his next move—and he certainly didn't miss how tantalizingly prepared for him you were, like a gift waiting to be unravelled.

"Impressive, Riddle—you've really outdone yourself this time," you spat the words through clenched teeth, fighting the urge to smack his wand away, battling the unwanted heat pooling in your core. It was the way he was looking at you. The way you wanted him to keep doing it. "Guess you can add 'carpet tamer' to your long list of accolades now, huh?"

Tom huffed, a glint of amusement dancing in his dark eyes as he forced them up to meet yours. The corners of his lips curled upward in a smirk, every pore radiating control. He looked at you as though you were a puzzle he had already solved, a game he had already won.

"Now now, darling, no need to be so dramatic." His free hand reached up and grasped your jaw, kinking your neck back as he stepped closer to you. "Though, I think 'little fucking brat tamer' might be the more notable achievement to add to the list."

Your stomach leapt, your teeth sinking into your tongue for a moment as you fought to gather your sanity. Your defiance was draining like sand in an hourglass.

"Hm." You huffed, the grip on your jaw firm as steel. "Quite the mouthful."

"So I've been told," he shot back, his eyes glinting like shards of glass under the dim light. "You'd know all about mouthfuls, wouldn't you?"

"You fucking wish." You hoped he did.

His smirk deepened, his fingers digging into your skin like iron claws. You could tell he was amused by you, as though you'd just delivered the punchline of the century, as though you were the world's most revered stand-up comedian. It was maddeningly infuriating and dangerously captivating all at once.

"Still wielding that weapon of a tongue, even when you've so clearly lost." He remarked with a click of his own tongue, releasing his grip on your jaw. Stepping back, his eyes devoured the sight of his spell tangled around your thighs. You caught the tension in his jaw before his eyes snapped back to yours. "Tell me, little snake, do you know why I admire this spell so much?"

Your gaze remained fixed on him, anticipation crawling over your skin like a colony of ants as he scrutinized you. You offer him a shake of your head, a scowl etched deep on your features. "Can't read your mind, Riddle. Not everyone is a skilled Legilimens like yourself."

Tom's chuckle rang out, swallowed by the thick tension in the air, suffusing the oxygen you desperately tried to gulp down. He moved to circle you, and you felt his presence looming behind you, his body brushing against yours like a whisper in the wind. One hand found your hip, however softly, as though he was reluctant to touch you.

"It's a very versatile spell, darling," he dismissed your sass, his voice stripped of all emotion as his lips hovered closer to your ear. "The best part being...I know exactly how to manipulate it to get you to listen."

Words withered on your tongue, attitude wilting in your lungs, and oxygen fleeing from your veins—never to return. Tom's looming presence behind you was enough to make your chest constrict, but his words—his words were a different beast altogether. In the countless times he's caught you, never once did you imagine yourself here, like this, with him.

And never once did you imagine yourself enjoying it this fucking much.

"One might describe it as remarkably adaptable, catering to a multitude of desires..." his hand floated away from your hip, his fingers subtly dancing—the coils responding to his ministrations and slithering higher up your thighs. "And you, little brat, have a plethora of desires at this moment, do you not?"

Your jaw nearly smacked the floor as you watched him command the spell without the aid of his wand. You felt your stomach twist into an iron knot, something heating your blood to flame. Perhaps you underestimated him, perhaps you-

"F-fuck-" you gasped as the charmed fibres slithered between your thighs, coiling higher and higher, wrapping around your waist and ensnaring your arms at your sides. The pressure on your cunt sent your head reeling, your entire body quivering. "Tom...what..."

You know Tom is just beaming with satisfaction, the tremor in your voice eliciting a low growl from deep within him as his hold on your hip resumes, his lips teasing the sensitive skin behind your ear.

"Speak up, little doll, articulate your thoughts," he murmured, his words dripping with cunning like poison. "I know you possess an abundance of them."

You suppress a groan, squirming in a futile attempt to free your wrists, to move against the relentless hold. The heat of Tom's presence behind you has your senses in a frenzy. Your head spinning, your body silently yearning for more. You despise how much you're enjoying this, whatever this even is.

You whimper, lids fluttering. "This...this isn't fair..."

"Neither is disobeying the rules every fucking chance you get—but here we are," his hand brushed against your thigh, fingertips barely grazing, his voice drifting further from your ear. "You should understand, this is all your own doing...the charm merely responds to your desires, adapting to fulfill them.”

That insufferable bastard. The list of descriptors you'd use to paint his portrait would stretch longer than the very library you're standing in, and then some. Every time you think you've unraveled his mysteries, he unveils another layer that exposes just how brilliantly twisted he truly is. How charming. How intoxicating.

You loathe him, relish in despising every fiber of his being. Yet you can't deny the fact that he outmaneuvered you, in the most tantalizing manner imaginable.

But still, you attempt to deny it. "That's...that's not..."

He muses. "Isn't it?"

Tom withdraws his hand from your thigh, and almost immediately, you ache for its return, the absence of his touch leaving you yearning. Caught off guard by the tendrils of the charm exerting pressure against your core, teasing over your clit, you squeeze your eyes shut, teeth sinking into your lip to stifle any sounds.

"It appears you have a penchant for challenging me..." his voice is a certain murmur. "It seems the charm knows precisely why.”

All the smugness of a deity himself, a walking, talking colossus among mere mortals. As inevitable as the sunrise each morning. It made you want to bare your teeth at him, but instead, all you could manage was a groan, struggling against the pleasure his charm inflicted upon you.

"I'm not quite certain what you would deem a fitting punishment..." he continues, voice as deep as the depths of your desire. As dark as an all encompassing black hole. "—given the countless ones you've endured in the past months, which have clearly taught you nothing."

You groan again, your head bowing as you gaze down at the tendrils of the enchantment, ensnaring you in the clutches of a man with teeth of diamonds, fingers like razor-sharp claws. It'd been a relentless dance of dominance between you for years, a battle of wills that always seems to end in his favor.

You despise how he effortlessly wields his power over you. How he has so easily read between the lines of your story—knowing precisely the effect he has on your body, knowing exactly what you crave.

You fight back a moan. "Mmmff—fuck..you..."

Tom maneuvers his mouth to your ear, his presence pressing against you from behind, the ghost of his breath caresses your skin as he whispers;

"You wish you could."

Beautiful, insufferable bastard.

"Fuck," you huff through gritted teeth, sweat gathering behind your neck, fingernails biting into your palms as you clench your fists, still battling against the overwhelming pleasure. "Get out of my head.."

You feel a low chuckle resonate against your back, its vibrations stirring something primal within you, his fingers grazing against your side.

"Do you truly believe this is mere manipulation, little snake?" Tom's touch begins to ascend, feather-light and elusive, barely registering against your clothes as he presses closer behind you. "I am intimately acquainted with your desires, darling. I've been privy to them for months." You can almost taste the smugness in his voice. "The truth is fairly simple—you crave me, and you despise yourself for it."

Tom takes a deliberate step back, circling around to stand before you, his gaze sweeping over your disheveled form. Your breath comes in rapid gasps, your skin flushed with desire, and you find yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him. You yearn for more of him, yet you resist acknowledging it, even to yourself.

It's as though he can see your thoughts, his eyes darkening as he drinks you in. "You'd go to any lengths to avoid admitting it, wouldn't you?"

"Gods—" he's right, and you hate him for it. “Mmmf.”

Tom hums softly, his lips barely suppressing a smirk as he steps closer to you. He reaches up, his fingertips brushing against your skin as he tilts your chin, compelling you to meet his gaze.

"How about we try a simple question?" His dark eyes bore into yours, their depths ablaze with a devilish glint. "Do you wish it to stop?"

You're rendered speechless. The egotistic side of you wants you to say yes—while the other, larger part is consumed with an insatiable hunger for more, for him. The charm swirls over your clit, applying increased pressure against your leggings, causing you to bite down on your bottom lip again to stifle a desperate moan. You couldn't answer him if you tried.

Tom's eyes roam over your face, not willing to miss a thing. "Use your words...tell me what you need..."

The sensation against your clit intensifies further, as if dancing to the rhythm of his words. You can feel his gaze boring into you as the heat between your thighs surges, and you realize you're on the brink of climax. And Tom knows it.

"Fuck..." your hips twitch involuntarily—torn between craving more friction and fleeing from it—your mind a whirlwind of uncertainty. Tom brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, his gaze fixed on his own movements, and you feel yourself unraveling, succumbing to the scorching intensity of his eyes—two dark pools of permanent ink. "Tom...please..."

His grip tightens. His jaw clenches. "Say it."

Shame courses through your veins, searing your skin like molten lava, the prickling sensation drowning you. You're on the verge of climaxing from an enchanted carpet, a manifestation of his spell, and the humiliation threatens to consume you.

"I need you-" you gasp, the words tumbling from your lips in a pitiful plea, desperation sinking its claws into your soul. So close...too close. "Please—please, I—I don't want to cum from this—I..."

Oh, but you do. You most certainly fucking do though the mere thought of admitting it feels like a dagger twisting in your gut. Tom's eyes glint with amusement, his head cocked slightly as he regards you with a faux expression of pity, as artificial as the plastic plants in the common room.

"I've truly made a mess of you, haven't I?" His hand glides down from your face, tracing a path along your neck, lightly grazing over your collarbone. "Tell me what you want from me."

Gods, you ache to strike him—yet crave to kiss him and cry out his name with equal fervour. Your defiance lies shattered, a broken relic at your feet.

You peer up at him, pleading. "Please, Tom, please touch me—I need you..."

A smirk toys at his lips, his fingers slipping under your jaw once more to hold you steady as he leans in closer.

"Touch you?" His voice is like a loaded gun, his fingers the bullets—intent cocked and ready to annihilate, but instead he taunts you, keeps you on edge, pressing the barrel against your temple just to see the look in your eyes. "You want me, the man you so madly fucking detest, to touch you."

You lack the strength to command him to go to hell, but oh, how you wish you did. Just to witness his reaction, to see what he’d do next. Despite his appalling self-assurance, you can see behind the mask—see how he is genuinely taken aback by your submission, as though he never expected you to surrender, to confess your desire for him.

"Tom, please..." you beg, trembling with anticipation, your impending climax a rapidly swelling tide. "I want you...I want you to make me cum—you-you win."

Tom pulls back from your ear to regard you, his gaze fully focused this time. He takes in the sight of you—trembling, panting, wide-eyed before him—his expression conveying complete contentment in simply observing you as you struggle to persuade him to touch you.

That familiar taunting grin lingers upon his lips, uncontainable, and you know he's relishing this moment far too much.

"I know," he says softly, his thumb tracing your jawline as his hand falls to your neck. "I always do, don't I, little doll..."

His voice drifts over you like smoke, thick and intoxicating, wrapping around you in a dizzying embrace. The intensity of the charm wavers slightly, granting you a momentary reprieve to catch your breath as Tom leans in, so close that you can feel his exhales caressing your lips. Your head spins, every sense overwhelmed by his presence.

"But you deserve this—" he continues, his voice a rumble like thunder through your veins. "—you deserve to be humiliated like this, to break for me without my hands ever touching you." His mouth hovers just millimeters from yours, taunting you with its nearness. "This is your punishment, little doll...and you're going to take it."

The pleasure between your thighs swells once more as the charm resumes its sinuous movements and you can't suppress the moan that escapes your lips, mingling with the groan of utter frustration. All you can do is stare at him.

Tom hums, amused. "Because you revel in it, don't you? Being a little disobedient brat..."

Your eyes glaze over, your pulse soaring as Tom's breath once again brushes against your parted lips. The ache for him is almost unbearable, as if he's injected something into your veins, rendering you unable to function without him. It's maddening, in the most exquisite way imaginable.

"You're-ohh-fuck.." your voice comes out as a moan, low and breathy, the words trailing off as the charm adds pressure to your clit, stars dancing at the edges of your vision. "Gods..."

"There we go, just as I like you,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing over your jaw. "Unable to unleash that pretty little mouth. Perfectly shattered for me."

You clench around nothing, yearning to scoff. "Mmmf—never..."

Tom chuckles at your feeble attempt at defiance, though the sound carries a hollow, half-hearted quality. You both know you've passed the point of return. His fingers trace along the edge of your jaw, until his palm cradles your face, his thumb brushing gently across your lips.

"Is that so?" He murmurs softly, his dark eyes locked onto yours. "Well then, go ahead...let that pretty mouth run wild...prove that your defiance is more than just an act..."

The way he wields his power has you teetering on the brink of madness, and you despise the fact that you've revelled in every torturous moment of it. You long to snap back, to wield your tongue, to curse him—anything to grasp onto even a shred of control. But every fucking word is a struggle, every moment not focused on your breathing is an achievement.

You squeeze your eyes shut, channeling all the energy you have left. "You...you're such an...arrogant—mmf—I...I hate you..."

"Mhm. You hate me." He cooes. "And yet, here you are..." his voice is as soft as feathers, as warm as the morning sun, the unmistakable taunt laced within. His thumb presses against your bottom lip, slipping between your teeth. "...falling apart for a mere spell, begging for me, for my touch..."

You feel Tom's thumb pressing against your tongue as you whimper. You attempt to speak, to convey something, but instead, you find yourself instinctively sucking lightly against his thumb in response.

"Mm." Tom's brow lifts slightly, amusement dancing in his eyes. He seems pleased with your reaction. "A much better use for that mouth."

You're beyond caring about the way he's taunting you, how he's systematically humiliated and debased you, stripping away every ounce of defiance without ever even touching your skin. Tremors wrack your body from the overwhelming sensations, rendering coherent thought nearly impossible.

Your head lolls to the side, constrained by his hand, as waves of pleasure crash over you, your climax approaching rapidly and dangerously.

"Fuck-I'm..." you manage to squeak, his thumb still nestled in your mouth. "Mmmf-"

Tom's eyes darken with satisfaction as he watches you unravel, his thumb pressing deeper into your mouth, a silent command for you to keep sucking. The enchantment continues its relentless assault—tightening around you, swirling over your clit and amplifying the pleasure until it's almost unbearable.

"Go on," he murmurs, his voice a blend of silk and steel. "Let go for me. Show me just how much you need this."

Your body trembles violently, your muscles tensing as the climax rips through you. You can't hold back the moan that escapes around his thumb, your entire being consumed by the intensity of the release that you've desperately fought off for so long. Tom's grip on your jaw tightens, keeping you in place, ensuring you can't escape the exquisite torment he's orchestrated.

"There it is," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "Perfectly broken, just for me."

Your eyes are squeezed shut so tightly it's almost painful, his thumb buried in your mouth muffling any sounds of pleasure that threaten to escape. The evidence of your desire pools between your thighs, your embarrassment stripping you raw as you slowly begin to return to reality, the spell gradually losing its grip around you.

You struggle to find your breath, your thoughts, your sanity, but Tom doesn't grant you much reprieve before he's tugging your head back towards his, forcing you to focus on him.

"You should see yourself." He withdraws his thumb from your mouth, trailing the remnants of saliva over your cheek as he assesses you. "You're a vision."

You try to summon the strength to argue, to reclaim some semblance of defiance, but the attempt dies in your throat, unable to comprehend the fact that those words sounded like a fucking compliment. Your body is trembling with the aftershocks of your climax, and you can only manage a soft whimper. He looks at you as if you are his masterpiece, perfectly crafted and beautifully ruined.

"Remember this, little snake," he whispers, his breath ghosting over your lips. "Remember how easily I can break you. How much you crave it."

You exhale slowly as you feel the charm dissipate, the carpet settling back into its rightful place at your feet. Tom's hand falls away from your face, but the tension between you remains palpable, neither of you daring to make a move.

"And as for the book," he adds, his eyes flashing to the bookshelf behind you, the one home to the Occlumency text you borrowed. "You may want to keep it. You're not nearly as skilled as you think you are."

And with that, he smooths out his uniform and strides past you without a second glance.

thank you to my babies @doremimosasol and @pizzaapeteer for proofreading this. means the world to me🖤

[incorrectquotesharrypotterv]

Draco: Tom is so much bigger than you.

Y/n: I could take him.

Mattheo: *just entering the conversation* In a fight, right?

Y/n: Why would I fight Tom?

[beegomess]

They dreaming about you || Slytherin boys

Summary: The boys being surprised by hot dreams with you, even without being in a loving relationship. These dreams take them by surprise, but maybe not so much, since you had been noticing some stealthy looks from them for some time on your body. Warnings: A little spicy, +18.

Requests open!

materlist here

Blaise Zabini

That scene seemed too good to be true, but it was. At least in Blaise's head it was...

His body lying on the sheets with his skirt raised and legs open gave him the view of paradise. What only improved with the fact that your fingers slowly went in and out of you while your face squirmed in pleasure and your mouth spilled a few moans, from time to time, with his name.

In the dream, Blaise just looked, almost as if waiting for the right moment to touch you, and it was certainly wonderful to see you in that position.

However, Zabini's brain was awakened thanks to the roar of the bathroom door being knocked by his roommate who had just entered. His eyes opened slowly, feeling a violent frustration taking over his body followed by shame of himself. In addition to, of course, having something he had to solve in the shower before class.

At breakfast, you were there, laughing with Pansy. As soon as Blaise's brown eyes hit you, an embarrassment was felt. However, this embarrassment was soon replaced by a desire and vivid memories of his dream, which made him ignore you during the following days, because the dreams did not stop. They even happened in naps during the day. It was crazy for him, his time in the bath had to increase considerably in the last few days. Blaise didn't know what else to do with himself.

Draco Malfoy

Oh, no. Draco really didn't use to be that kind of boy. He, in fact, was used to receiving this kind of report from other girls. So when, at his sleep, he found himself dreaming of you with his lips around him, this lit an alert in his mind.

You were the sister of one of your friends, that wasn't right. He could swear that he consciously never wanted you that way, but in fact, he was only in the phase of denial by Theo's constant warnings not to look at his beautiful sister that way.

He avoided you as much as possible for the rest of the day, you two didn't really use to be very close, but you were almost always in the same places.

The attempt to avoid you during the day worked, but during dinner he couldn't do the same. What made you look the most lascivious way at your mouth while you ate dessert and talked to your friend. It was then that he realized that maybe he was not as calibrated in relation to you as he imagined.

Lorenzo Berkshire

Enzo saw you in your pajamas several times throughout your childhood, this was common among best friends. However, something seemed to have changed in you lately, he was starting to notice more about what his body looked like now. However, he thought he had stopped there, just a common physical attraction.

Good, but that's not what happened. One morning he just woke up with a big problem in his pants thanks to a dream in which you simply kissed him on his lap.

In the dream, you were wearing those very short pajamas that you loved to wear, but that Lorenzo hated because it made him look like any pervert. His body was on his lap, using the friction between the two of you to satisfy yourself in some way. His low moans muffled by his lips caused Enzo's smiles during the dream.

However, he woke up at some point with you, already dressed for class, knocking on the door of his room. His body that was hot and thirsty freezes immediately when he hears his voice calling him and he jumps out of bed in despair.

- Enzo, is everything okay? - You ask because of his delay in opening for you.

He answered anything, just to mislead you for a few hours. It was almost impossible to avoid you during the day, you surprised him, he was always with you and suddenly he was full of commitments that didn't include you.

Enzo just didn't know what to do, since whenever he saw you, he received scenes from his dream.

Mattheo Riddle

His body was beautifully folded over a table in some classroom, his hands grabbed the wood tightly while his skirt was raised and his panties were slightly dragged to the side to give him passage. Mattheo smiled as he hit his hips against his own and saw his face, pressed against the wood, writhing with the moans and sensations he gave you.

Everything was perfect, really everything. Until he simply woke up, without any interruption, his brain simply turned off the most beautiful scene he had ever seen and woke him up out of nowhere.

He opened his eyes and began to fall for himself about the dream. Why was he dreaming that about you? You didn't even talk, nor did you have friends in common besides Astoria, who was not exactly his friend, just a friend's girlfriend.

But that's okay, he did what he had to do so he didn't have to show all his tight pants and went on with his day. For him, that was unusual, but not a total astonishment. Mattheo really liked to see his body whenever he could, but he never did more than that.

Riddle's day went on normally. Girls throwing themselves at him, Draco complaining about his father, Theo agreeing and telling about his... Until you passed next to his table to yours ahead.

Coincidentally, you were wearing the skirt of that dream, the exact same skirt. All right, it was the uniform, but you were wearing that specific model, with pleats and more round and a little shorter.

Mattheo felt warm up, not with shame, but with a sudden desire. What only got worse when he realized that his dream happened in that same classroom. The class simply dragged on to Mattheo, who decided to go out in the middle of it to be able to relieve himself minimally and try to ignore you for the rest of the day, getting frustrated about the way he felt close to you from that day on.

Theodore Nott

Theodore's night had been great until he lay down, he had lost sleep and went to the Astronomy Tower to smoke, in an attempt to fall asleep again. And when he got there, he found you doing the same as him. You two talked and laughed at nonsense while smoking, something that became common over the weeks, it was something that happened coincidentally, until Theodore started going whenever you went.

He always slept better after hearing his laugh and that day was no different, he lay down and fell asleep quickly, and everything only seemed to get better when an image of him invaded his dreams: his hands leaning on Nott's chest while his breasts shook as you slid over him, his suggestive smiles and moans filled Theo's eyes, making him think he was finally in paradise for having her.

Anyway, his paradise was quickly interrupted by Mattheo's noises when leaving the dorm. Theodore was face down, but as soon as he turned around, it was visible to see his condition through the sheet itself, which made him rub his eyes in frustration, but not out of shame but out of necessity.

Theo was the kind of boy who was not ashamed of things like this, in fact, it only encouraged him to look for you, even if it meant having to deal with the insistent scenes reappearing in his mind.

Tom Riddle

You were simply stunning with your ankles hitting Tom's shoulders as he increased the pace of the beats on you. It was almost angelic for him to see you that way. The way he got lost in you in his own mind seemed like a weakness when he woke up.

Tom thought he was bewitched by you, after all, he was the one who should get into people's minds and not the other way around. So, when this happened, he was intrigued and obsessed with you. The two of you were not close, much less had already talked more than a brief question about school subjects. And that's why his obsession with you.

Even though he was a different boy, in a more focused and studious feeling than worried about girls, he can't help but perceive you in the libraries and how the dim lights contoured his body and curves perfectly. He didn't avoid you the next day, in fact, as the days went by, Tom approached you. He never ran after girls, but he seemed willing to watch you from afar whenever he could.

He felt like an idiot, futile to say the least. But he couldn't take away from himself the curiosity and the desire to see you really squirm under him.

_______________________________

xoxo, bee🫶🏼✨

[ash-whimsicalfanfic]

Obsession

Tom Riddle X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: Mild language, Graphic, Smut, Toxic, Possessive, Protective, Angst, Fluff, Suggestive, Anger…

Prompt: Y/N Black is a mystery to many. She isn’t interested in making friends, only her studies. However, unbeknownst to many, one boy has piqued her interest——Tom Riddle. Little did she know, he had an obsession with her.

Sidenote: I did use some spells from the vampire diaries just for the heck of it. I may do a part two, but I’m not sure if it really needs it. I’ll leave it up to you guys!

Everyone seemed more chattier than usual. Maybe it was the upcoming Yule Ball or maybe it was because holidays were approaching. However, you hated the buzzing chatter, the obnoxious shouting, and all of the crowded halls. You had tried to go to the library as an escape from this madness, but everyone had infiltrated the library even.

You were the Scrooge that everybody was painfully aware of as you stormed through the halls with your books clutched to your chest. If you were a Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Gryffindor, they would have laughed at the irked expression on your face. However, knowing you were a Slytherin strikes fear in many.

Not to mention you were a mystery to many. You were oh so quiet, along with a freakishly amount of smart, and an unearthly amount of beautiful. You chose to stick to yourself, choosing to not make any friends. You instead chose to have acquaintances in case a group project popped up, however you normally managed to worm your way out of that so you could work alone.

That was how you preferred doing things, alone. Other students have given up on trying to befriend you, seeing it as pointless. Guys would still try and ask you out, but their advances failed. They hadn’t noticed that your interest was piqued by a boy already. However, it seemed that he was just like you.

Tom Riddle was a handsome young man with jet black curly-ish hair and dark brown eyes that looked almost black from afar. He was fairly tall and had a lean look. His face was always blank…passive as he studied or walked through the halls or even when he was with his group of “friends”. They were his followers in his mind, not his friends. To anyone else, they saw them as a happy friend group.

You had noticed the things that anyone would pick up about Tom from afar, like his intelligence. Tom excelled in all of his classes, in fact he was tied at the top of the year with you. He too was introverted, preferring to be alone and in silence. For someone as passive as Tom, you noticed things he did. When he was judging something, he’d lean back in his chair, occasionally quirking an eyebrow as if he was impressed or annoyed.

When he was in a rather intuitive or creative mood, his eyes seemed to be a lighter shade of brown and he would get carried away in his journal. When he was thinking, he would zone out on his journal or something in the room.

You noticed that he’d clench his jaw until a muscle there ticked when he got angered. When he was annoyed, he had a tendency to sigh.

“Y/N!” Narcissa calls.

She stood among Tom Riddle and all of his “friends”. Tom’s eyes find you who was clearly irritated. You had made your way through the crowd and head towards her.

“Yes?” You ask.

“Hey, that is no way to talk to your favorite cousin.” Narcissa scolds.

“Who said you were my favorite?” You ask.

“It’s because it is me.” Bellatrix grins.

“Not you either.” You mutter.

“Moving on, have you seen Sirius or Regulus?” She asks.

“I’m not their keeper, Narcissa.” You mutter.

“They said they were meeting up with you.” She says, sighing in frustration.

“Well they didn’t. I need to get to class.” You mutter.

Before you could go, Bellatrix grabs your upper arm in a tight grip. You turn back to her with a clenched jaw as Narcissa steps back, muttering an “Uh-Oh”.

“Leaving so soon, cousin?” She mocks.

“Bellatrix, I’m warning you now to let go or you will regret it.” You warn calmly.

“What will you do? You're all goody two shoes, yet your in Slytherin. I think that dumb hat sorted you into the wrong house.” She says.

You pull your wand free, pointing it at her as you mutter “Stupefy”. You roll your eyes as she flies backwards through the crowd.

“If I wouldn’t get expelled, I would definitely crucio you or use the killing curse on you for your information. However, nothing is stopping me once we graduate.” You say, before turning and leaving the group stunned.

Tom smiles slightly as he watches you walk away, finding himself even more intrigued with you than he originally was. Call it an interest or maybe an obsession at this point. He liked to watch you when he could. He noticed things about you that he was sure no one else noticed.

He knew you were a quiet and mysterious girl, but underneath that “innocent” mask you wore, he knew there was a strong woman with a dangerous mind. You were far from innocent and today proved that more so to him. To anyone else, you were that innocent girl. However, when you let your guard down if you were stressed or angry or irritated, he could see the danger swirling in your (eye color) eyes.

He lets his smile fall, regaining his composure before turning back to his group. Bellatrix was back on her feet, a scowl on her face as Narcissa helped hold her up. He watches as Sirius and Regulus join them.

“What is wrong with you?” Sirius asks.

“Your bloody sister is what is wrong! She used stupefy on me!” She snaps.

“How pissed off did you make her?” Regulus chuckles, shaking his head.

“You both told me you were meeting with her about becoming a follower. Yet, she hasn’t seen either of you all day. So, where were you both off to?” Narcissa snaps.

“Have you seen how mad she can get? We learned not to mess around when she gets mad, Issa. When she is mad, she will take down anyone in her path. We’ve learned how to avoid making her mad. So, you go have that conversation with her because I rather not get crucio’d again.” Sirius says.

“Wow.” Avery mutters.

“She may be quiet and keeps to herself, but Y/N is a ticking time-bomb when you make her mad. She is intelligent, and maybe too intelligent for her own good. She also liked being stronger than others in magic, so that is why she studies so hard. However, because she is so antisocial and introverted, even as a child before Hogwarts, she took her studies serious, so she doesn’t understand fun. She is boring.” Sirius says.

“I bet she hasn’t ever shagged anyone, or snogged! A sixth year and a virgin! That is embarrassing.” Bellatrix cackles.

That further piqued Tom’s interest about you.. He found himself having more thoughts about you, both innocent and sinful thoughts. However, his sinful thoughts changed to the exception of you being a virgin. That made him feel a possessiveness over you he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about. However, he knew that the idea of you being with anyone else was sickening to him. You were his, you just didn’t know it yet.

Your studies past fairly quickly and you were heading towards the Great Hall. You sit at your normal spot, Regulus sitting next to you. Tom sat a table down with his “friends”, however his focus was on you. Regulus gently closed your books, pushing them away.

“Eat, then study.” He stresses softly.

As irritated as you were about him taking away your books, you listened. Tom quirked a brow, finding himself wondering if it was often you got so distracted by your studies that you didn’t take care of yourself the best. His eyes roam over you slowly, noticing the dark circles under your eyes along with the thinning face of yours. So, it was often, he thought.

“Y/N! My favorite sister! How has your day been?” Sirius asks as plops down across from you.

“What do you want?” You ask, sighing as you pushed your food around on your plate.

“Nothing to do with studies I hope, she is taking a break to eat.” Regulus stresses.

You close your eyes as the two start to argue, resting your chin on your hand. You open your eyes when Regulus stands, his voice getting louder.

“Enough!” You snap, the two instantly quieting.

It had gotten the attention of those around your table. You take in a slow breath before letting it out, regaining your composure before looking between your brothers with a blank look.

“You two bicker like a bunch of children. This is our brief moment to be able to hang out, however you both don’t know how to push aside your differences because you both are too hot-headed and irrational.” You rant.

You snatch up your books that Regulus had pushed away from you earlier and stood from the table as you left the Great Hall.

Tom watched you leave before looking between your brothers, before his eyes fell on your plate of untouched food. He puts some food in his bag, going unnoticed and decides to leave himself. He made his way to the library, heading to the forbidden section where he assumed you’d be. He feels a brief moment of pride flare in his chest, right about where you had gone. He clears his throat and you look up from your notes.

“Here. I noticed you didn’t eat.” He says.

His voice surprised you. It was deep, soft and mysterious. He pulled out some food he took from the Great Hall and handed it to you.

“Thank you.” You murmur.

He nods, going to leave and you begin working on your studies again. You sigh as a loud group comes into the library.

“Would you allow me to show you a place I like to go?” He asks, looking back down at you.

“I don’t see why not.” You admit, gathering your stuff before standing.

You follow behind Tom, not quite sure where he was taking you. You knew of his quest to become the Dark Lord. Some of his followers had big mouths, so you heard more than everyone thought you knew. They assumed you were clueless about his current quest and they all were tip-toeing around who would be the one to break the news to you. However, you knew. You knew more than them in fact.

He looks around, making sure there was no other students or professors in the hall before a door appears in the wall. Your lips part from surprise as he ushers you in, following behind you. You looked around the empty room in awe.

“The Room of Requirements…I’ve heard of it and I’ve looked everywhere for it.” You mumble.

“Yes, I searched for this room for awhile myself. I later learned that the room only will appear in great need.” Tom explains, seeming rather smug about finding it.

“The room seems to know you quite well…and you seem to know the room quite well too. Otherwise, the door wouldn’t have appeared because I’m sure my studies are not in great need.” You say, turning back to him.

You feel a heat spread across your body as you catch his eyes on you. The dark eyes slowly trail over you, mapping out your body. His eyes stop on your blouse where you had a few buttons undone since you were alone and had started to get a little hot in the confined aisles of the forbidden section in the library.

He steps forward, closing the distance between the two of you. You look up, not realizing that he was this tall. He puts a hand out and gently grasps your hip before trailing it up your side. He tugs on the middle of your blouse, revealing more of your cleavage, before he starts undoing the remaining buttons.

“That and maybe because I am in great need of you.” He murmurs, leaning down to trail his lips along your neck.

You shiver, feeling a trail of goosebumps being left behind from the ghost touch. His hands find your shoulders where he pushes the robes off before pushing your blouse off along with it. He leaves a soft kiss on your racing pulse, before he pulls back to look down at you.

You were left in a dark green lace bra, and he tsked quietly, approving the way they made your breasts look. The bra seemed to work as a push-up bra, but really Narcissa had gotten you the wrong size this year.

His eyes trail over your stomach, noting the soft curves he would be sure to feel later. His eyes focus on the short school-girl skirt, also Narcissa’s doing. You didn’t fret much about it as you knew you’d wear your robe more often than not. You were wearing knee high stockings with a pair of mary-janes.

“The school girl skirt, hmph, your just asking to be fucked, aren’t you?” He asks, a smirk slowly spreading across his face.

“Tom.” You say breathlessly.

“Leave the skirt on, but take your panties off.” He orders.

He begins unbuttoning his own shirt, watching you. You were frozen in place before you start to work the panties down. He held a hand out, looking at you expectantly. Your shaky hand places the matching dark green lace panties into his hand.

He balls it up and sticks it in his blazer pocket. You watch as his long, slender fingers work his belt off. Your eyes focused on his veiny hands.

“Hands and knees.” He says.

You slowly drop to your knees, turning over, no longer able to watch his next move. You get on your hands, moving so you are on your elbows. You arch your back down, sticking your ass out more.

Tom licks his lips slowly, swallowing hard as he watches you get into the position. He inhales deeply, watching as you arch your back. He puts a clenched fist to his mouth, lightly biting himself, not quite sure if this was really happening. The skirt hid nothing. He could see the big globes that he found himself really attracted to. He never would have taken himself as an ass man.

His eyes trail further down to see your glistening entrance. He pushes his pants off before he gets on the ground behind you. He brushes your hair over your shoulder, before he finds himself tracing down your spine lightly. You shiver unintentionally, however he enjoyed the effect he on you.

“How bad do you want me?” He murmurs into your ear.

“Please, Tom.” You whisper as you push your hips back.

“Pathetic. Do you want my cock or not?” He asks, grabbing a fistful of your hair and roughly jerking your head back.

A breathless moan fills the thick air in the room as a heat spreads across your scalp. He clenches his jaw, feeling himself twitch from the sound he heard. It was the beginning of a beautiful symphony, one he didn’t realize how much he’d become crazed for.

“Tom! Please! I need you!” You cry, feeling frustrated that he wasn’t touching you where you wanted to be touched.

He smirks, gently grabbing your hips. He uses his other hand to guide himself into your dripping entrance. He groans, your walls immediately grasping onto him, suffocating him. You moan lowly, your hands grasping at the stone floor as your eyes flutter shut.

“Fuck.” He curses, working himself in and out of you slowly.

“Tom, please.” You plead, pushing your hips back.

“Is my cock the first one you’ve ever had?” He asks, his eyes burning in the back of your head as he awaited your response.

“Yes! Please, Tom!” You cry.

He couldn’t help the grin across his face. He heard it, but he wasn’t sure if maybe you just kept them out of the loop. But, knowing he was the one to take your virginity was exhilirating to him.

“I better be the only cock you have here. You are mine.” He warns.

“Yes! I-I’m yours, Tom!” You moan as he starts to move at a faster pace.

“I’ll kill any boy who dares to be with you, because you are mine! I’ll punish you if I see you talking to some boy.” He growls, his hips now savagely moving.

You cry for more, your soft and loud moans were music to his ears. He breathed heavily along with you as held onto your hips tightly. Skin smacking echoed in the room and you heard his soft groan which sent you coming. He groans louder as you clench around him, coming around him.

You stood on shaky legs, buttoning up your blouse and grimacing as you feel your shared climaxes slowly leaking out of you. He grasps your chin, looking at you with a stern look.

“Keep it in. I want you to know who fucked you.” He says.

“Tom, I need my panties.” You say as your cheeks flush.

“Find another way to keep it in.” He says, before focusing back on straightening himself out.

You pull your blazer on along with your robes before grabbing your books and hurrying out. You reach the Slytherin common room, Narcissa and Bellatrix looking up from their game of cards. Sirius and Regulus’s backs were to you.

“Oh my god, you got shagged!” Narcissa exclaims with a grin.

“Who was it?” Bellatrix asks.

“Yeah, I’d like to know.” Sirius seethes, taking in your disheveled hair and the hickeys on your neck.

Narcissa looks at your knees to see that they were scraped up, but you choose to ignore your brothers and cousins as you make your way past them. Regulus laughs, yelling “Atta girl!”

A small smile graces your lips at your little brothers comment. He too was protective of you, but he knew you inside and out. He and you were far closer than you were with Sirius. You get to your dorm and think of showering, but then your mind wanders to Tom. Keep it in…

You pull on a pair of fresh panties as you change into your nightware. You found yourself tossing and turning for a long while before you fell asleep. By the time it was time to wake up, you were exhausted. You could sleep in, but that ruins your morning routine.

You go to the shower, grimacing at the burn in your stomach. It was now that you realized you didn’t eat once yesterday. You finished up in the bathroom before pulling on a black lingerie set. You gasp as your door opens and Tom walks in.

“I knew you’d be awake.” He says, his eyes slowly roaming over you and some of the bruises he had made from where he held you still.

“Tom, what are you doing here?” You ask, grabbing a random robe and pulling it on.

“I’ve seen it all, darling. I wanted to tell you no more skirts.” He says and you look at him confused.

“I…Is it because how short they are?” You ask.

“That and the school girl skirt should be meant for my eyes when we are alone. Do you understand?” He asks.

“I…yes, Tom.” You say quietly.

He grins, looking at your neck where you had several hickeys before he leaves. You frown and look at the outfit you had prepared for this morning. It consisted of a school girl skirt.You sigh, grabbing a dark green skater skirt that ended a little about mid-thigh. There wasn’t much you could do about the length of your skirts until you went shopping again.

You grab your button up blouse and your Slytherin tie. You grab the blazer and sigh when you see dust on it. You hang it back up, deciding you will have to clean it later because you don’t have time now.

You pull on your knee socks and mary-janes when there was a knock at your dorm door. You open it and see it was Narcissa.

“I came bearing gifts.” She says.

You open the door and she guides you to the small vanity as she begins to help you cover the hickeys on your neck and jawline.

“So, who was it?” She asks.

“I’m not sure if I’m ready to say who it was yet.” You murmur.

“Did he force you? I’ll make him suffer the worst ways imaginable.” She says seriously.

“No, no, he didn’t force me. I’m just not sure what is happening yet. I don’t know if it merely was just another shag to him or if it’ll turn into something. However, he’s being a little controlling of what I wear, mainly my skirts.” You explain.

“I feel like I already know who this is.” She says, sighing.

“Who?” You ask.

“Tom Riddle?” She asks.

“Oh…how did you know?” You ask.

“Tom is…many things. I don’t know if he is capable of love and a relationship. He is a very possessive man. And I mean to the extent that it isn't healthy. He is ill-tempered and easily jealous. Not to mention he can be obsessive too. I personally think you should put some distance between the two of you and let things die down. I don’t know what his intentions are, but I’m sure they aren’t good.” She explains.

“Alright.” You say quietly.

You were quite sure how to feel. But, you knew Narcissa meant well and you also knew that she knew Tom better than you. You trusted her advice almost as you trusted Regulus’s.

“All done.” She says.

“Thank you, Issa.” You murmur and she nods.

She leaves you to your thoughts and you realize you need to head down to the Great Hall for breakfast. You gather your books and make your way out of your dorm in a daze. You head to the Great Hall and see everyone was already there. You ignore the burning stare that you knew belonged to Tom Riddle.

“Hey, you okay? You seem out of it? And your running late.” Regulus says.

“Oh, I’m fine. I think I’m just in need of food. I realized I didn’t eat once yesterday.” You explain.

“Y/N/N, you’ve got to take better care of yourself. I will start treating you like I did the first year.” He warns.

“I know, I know, and I promise I’ll do better.” You sigh.

“Why is Riddle staring at you? He seems pissed.” He whispers.

“Oh, who knows.” You sigh, briefly glancing at Tom.

Tom was staring at your neck where your hickeys would be, but thanks to Narcissa, they were no longer there. You managed to eat some of your food before it began to make you feel sick. You felt suffocated with Tom glaring daggers into you and Sirius was no better.

“Stop it.” Regulus warns Sirius.

“I want to know who it was.” He snaps, looking back at you.

You clench your jaw, narrowing your eyes at him as you take a slow breath in and let it out. You pull your wand out and keep your hand rested on the table, so you don’t draw anymore attention to you.

“Keep glaring, brother and watch how fast you end up in the hospital wing.” You warn lowly.

“Guys.” Narcissa warns.

“Who is he?” He growls lowly, leaning closer to you.

“Oh shit. Take cover!” Regulus says, going under the table.

You reach forward, grabbing Sirius’s tie and pull him closer as your face heats from anger.

“Astronomy tower, now.” You grit out.

He stands and storms out and you stand as Regulus pokes his head out.

“Don’t kill him please.” He pleads.

You storm out of the Great Hall, wand in hand as you make your way towards the Astronomy tower to see him already there and waiting.

“Who is it!?” He snaps as you both circle each other.

“Sirius, it’s none of your business. Stop trying to act like the older and protective brother. Stop acting like you care!” You snap.

“I do care! You're my sister.” He snaps.

“Guys. Let’s try to keep calm.” Narcissa says as she walks in with her group.

“Yeah, let’s just hug it out and make up.” Regulus says.

“I want to know who has my sister acting like a tramp.” He snaps.

“Oh no….oh no! Oh no! Back up, back up, back up!” Regulus says as he pushes everyone back.

“Bombarda!” You fast and Sirius curses as he tries to dodge the mini explosion you casted his way.

“Confundo!” He shouts, but you dodge it.

“Everte Statum.” You cast, watching as he flies back against the wall, his wand falling in the process.

You walk forward, grabbing his wand before looking down at him.

“Impulsa Animositas!” You snap, gaining confused looks from around the room.

“I…Y/N, have you been creating spells again?” Regulus asks cautiously.

“Again?” Narcissa asks alarmed.

“What did you do to me?” Sirius snaps.

“Say something mean. To any of us.” You say, smirking.

“What the hell did you do to me you crazy bi—ow!” He exclaims after feeling a jolt of electricity go through you.

“Just as I assumed. This spell will zap you everytime you try and say something mean.” You say.

“That’s child’s play you idiot!” He snaps before groaning.

“Hm. This isn’t. Lihednat Dolchitni.” You cast.

His hands find his throat as he try’s to breath. You clench your fist tighter, watching how he struggles more before you wave your hand and it stops. He leans forward, breathing heavily.

“Tread carefully, brother. I have far more up my sleeve than you wish to believe.” You spat.

“You…you will get in so much trouble for creating spells. Regulus and I told you that you need to stop.” He breathes heavily.

“Then keep your mouths shut otherwise I’ll make you suffer in the worst unimaginable ways.” You say.

With that, you turn and walk past the group who seemed shocked. You head back to the Great Hall, gathering your items before heading back to your dorm. You were too upset and riled up to do anything. So, instead you hurry to your dorm and lock the door.

You pace frantically, running your hands through your hair. You let a breath out that you hadn’t noticed you were holding.

“You’re okay. You’re okay. Everything is okay.” You mumble to yourself.

The lock on your door clicks, so you turn and see Tom. He closes the door back and turns to you with that normal passive and cold look.

“That was…impressive.” He says.

“Tom, I really rather be alone right now.” You mutter.

“Why cover the marks I left? I left them for a reason.” He says, his voice hardening as his eyes turn several shades darker.

“I didn’t want to walk around with them showing. People would have said something and I don’t want to deal with that. Plus, I rather the school not know I was your play thing.” You mutter harshly, turning your back to him.

“Who said you were a play thing because I don’t recall ever telling you that?” He snaps.

“Tell me this, Tom. Are you one for commitment? Would you be in an exclusive relationship? Huh, tell me that!” You snap harshly as you turn to face him again.

“I can do commitment. Before, I’d say no. However, for you I am willing to do it. I’m willing to be in an exclusive relationship as you call it. Because I can’t ever get you out of my head! You are all I can focus on! It’s so…so irritating, yet I love it at the same time.” He growls.

“Tom, there are going to have to be some rules set in place if we are to do something. Like the skirt thing this morning. I only wear skirts.” You say.

“Fine. Wear your skirts, well not the school girl ones, however I can’t promise that some asshole won’t end up dead for looking. You are mine.” He snaps.

“Okay, and what about the marks?” You ask.

“You shouldn’t care what anyone says. You never have before, so why care now? I want people to know that you belong to me. I want the guys to realize that you aren’t a possibility anymore. You are mine.” He says, closing the distance between you both.

You look up as his hand wraps around your throat. He tightens his hand and you let a shaky breath out as you clench your thighs.

“You barely know me.” You mumble.

“I know more than you think, darling. You piqued my interest. When that happens, I tend to learn everything I can.” He murmurs, brushing his nose against yours before kissing you softly.

You hum, moving your hands to his hair. You whine when he pulls back, a smirk on his lips.

“What does that mean? How have you learned about me if you just started speaking to me yesterday?” You ask.

“Because I might be a bit obsessive when it comes to learning of the things that interest me. I won’t stop until I know everything.” He says.

There was banging on your dorm door and you sigh, going to walk past Tom, but he loops an arm around your waist.

“Who is it?” Tom asks, annoyed.

“It’s Bella, me and Regulus. Is Y/N in there?” Narcissa says.

“Well go away. I’m about to fuck my girl.” He snaps.

Your face heats up as you cover your mouth to hide your gasp. Narcissa gasps, Regulus laughs and yells for you to get it while Bellatrix throws a fit.

“We are not doing anything! We are just talking!” You exclaim.

“Talking, huh?” He says, quirking a brow at you as he slips a hand beneath your skirt.

You let a shaky breath out as he trails his hand up your thigh. He gets to your underwear, sliding two fingers beneath the lacy fabric.

“Tom.” You mumble.

“Talking and yet you're so wet for me. Do you want my cock again?” He asks, sliding a finger in you.

Your eyes flutter close and he grins widely, loving the way you reacted to his touch. You were the violin and he was the violinist. He played you so gracefully and loved the beautiful symphony that came from your mouth. It was his greatest obsession.

[patrophthia]

congrats on 1k!!! could i pls request tom riddle and making him genuinely laugh for the first time? i love ooc soft tom😍

thank u!! we love OOC soft tom in this household!!

it’s not funny, riddle | tom riddle

pairing: tom riddle X reader

genre: OOC SOFT TOM RIDDLE!!!! BC ME AND ANON LOVE HIM!!! prefect!reader

part of my 1k celebration event !

On the rare occasions where Tom was spotted with a real and genuine laugh, it had always been when there was something involving you. 

It's almost second nature by now, a lore of some sorts within the students (and Professors) of Hogswart to expect to find you doing something absolutely embarrassing —or ridiculous— if they were to ever hear a very specific laughter echoing down the hall. 

It's full and warm, a sound coming straight from the chest and it's as infectious as it comes. A smile is barely containable whenever you hear it and it so so so unlike his normal laugh —one so charming no one dared pointed out that it was clearly faked, perfected in a way where he seemed poised and well put together. 

He's not falling apart when he laughs then and he's as handsome as he always is. But when he's really laughing, his head falls back, his eyes squints shut as his nose crinkles, dark hair caressing against his hurting cheeks. When he opens his eyes back up, they're glinting under the light and he's practically shining when he looks at you. 

And you remember that look well, so so well, ever since it first happened. 

It's the first snow of the year when it happened, you're patrolling the halls with Tom when you first spotted it. And through your excitement, you eagerly ran out of the door not realizing just how ill prepared you were for it. 

Your shoes where the flimsiest pair of slippers one could find —and in your defense, it was because someone (you won't call out who exactly) had set for you to patrol the halls at five A.M in the morning and you hadn't exactly think to put anything proper on save for your school robes. 

So, with you in your pajamas and slippers —your Hogswart robes over them— you ran into the snow, too excited to remember that you're endangering yourself by doing so. And once you finally realize it, it's far too late seeing as you're already halfway down. 

You butt lands on the snow first, the rest of your body just seconds after it. And right before you could fully process everything that happened mere seconds ago, a loud infectious laugh breaks out through the morning air. 

You ease yourself up onto your arms, searching for the source of laughter only to find the Headboy —and your patrol partner, hunched over by the corridor's many openings as his arm covers his mouth, muffling his laughs; eyes shining at you. 

"It's not funny, Riddle," you say first, practically huffing at him as you try to bring yourself back up only to lose your balance once more. Tom doubling over with laughter at your actions. "Help me!" 

He tries to stop himself, he really did; but the sight of you on your ass, shivering against the white snow with your pajamas pants peaking through your robes where too amusing for him. He composes himself, mouth shut as he makes his way over to you. "You're ridiculous." He snickers with a smile. "Absolute idiot." 

He offers you a hand, and though you understand he was only merely teasing you with his remarks. You can't help but take the opportunity to pull him down with you, his face falling straight into the cold snow as you did so. 

You're the one laughing now, watching as he push himself up, his cheeks flushed from the cold snow as he scowls at you. You only giggle harder at his expression. "You're so cute like this." 

He doesn't take it well, a hand grabbing at the snow underneath him before it lands right above your chest. Your eyes widened at the sudden hit, hands moving quicker than your mind did. 

Safe to say Professor Mcgonagall wasn't too happy to find the two people she trusted to keep students in check in the early mornings in a snow ball fight. 

Especially when one of them is in their pajamas and the other in their school uniforms.

— from bee: OOC tom you’ll always be iconic

[lenoraslament]

Tom Riddle x Y/N

Hot Mess Part 2

Humor/smut/angst 2.2k words

Tom leaves you at the party, but he isn’t going to leave you wanting more for long. Still mad about you beating him at a duel, the prince of darkness just can’t leave you alone.

Warnings: smut, spanking, teasing, degradation.

Read Part 1 here.

You watched Tom disappear around the corner, and for a moment a rogue thought appeared in your head

Stop Him

Time slipped away as quickly as he had. You were dancing alone for so long.

The bass pounding only disoriented you more. Too many drinks, too much to smoke.

But you didn’t. You leaned your head back as you swayed to the ever present beat of the music. You felt a hand snake around your waist from behind and pull you in. Enzo? Theo? No, if was unfamiliar with a pair of lips that started kissing your neck.

You took a sharp breath in and realized familiar cologne was pouring over you. Teeth softly met your shoulder blade and began to nip at the spot that made your eyes roll back. Your lips part into a gasp as the hand traces along the line of your hips, dipping down to stroke your thighs.

“The whole wizarding race depends on us ,”you hear his voice teasing you.

“Hello Satan,” you slur out in response,”what happened to the girl you were with? Did she take one look at your little basilisk and die of disappointment?”

You’re about to laugh at your own joke but his hand comes down smacking you firmly on your left asscheek. You let out a strangled moan.

“You are so tawdry Y/N, you know that?” He growled in your ear.

“Maybe you should be reading up on Legilimens instead of studying the thesaurus” you tease but his hand comes down on you hard again making a gaspy scream escape your smart mouth.

“Do you ever shut up, you whore?” He asked, one hand has a vice grip on your hip bone the other one drawn back ready to meet your quip. His hips are pushing into your back

You lean your head back so it rests on his chest, looking up at him daringly.

“Not unless you make me”’you say giggling. This time he doesn’t spank you, he only tightens the hold on your hips.

“Come with me. Now.”he said whirling you away before you argue.

He whisked you down the hall, his hand intertwined in yours. You stumble after him taking in his dark hair, his broad shoulders, the musculature of his arms. Every substance you stockpiled in your system seems to fuel the burning heat of arousal coursing through you,

He unlocks the door to his private headboy dorm, before you can register the change in atmosphere he’s pushing you against the closed door.

One hand in his waist and the has a tight grip on your jaw. His eyes burn fire into yours, heavy with need. Tom’s lips part and inch closer to yours.

Your eyes flutter closed and you breath in the anticipation.

“How did you do it?” His low grumbly voice surprises you.

Your eyes snap open,” what?” You look at him honestly confused,”do… do what?”

“Beat me at the duel?” He growls.

Your mouth drops open into a scoff and you shove his chest away as roughly as you can,

“Seriously!?” You yell,”you’re asking me about the fucking duel!?”

Tom narrows his eyes as he uses his hands to push your hips back into the door. He crushed his lips into your neck, nuzzling and biting as he groped you

“How!?” He lets out a frustrated groan into your neck

“Oh and you’re going to fuck the answer out of me!?” You cry out and shove him again,”just get off of me Riddle for the love of Merlin!”.

He pulls away and picks his hands up, not because he wants to stop but because you’re screaming too loudly. He doesn’t want anyone to hear.

“Get out” he snaps and you gladly open the door behind you and stomp down the hall.

Someone has laid an anchor on your head and a snake in your belly. Those are the thoughts that come to you as you sit up the next day at nearly 1pm.

“Accio water” you mumble and the glass of water on your desk flies towards you. You barely catch it, it lands mostly on your face and lap as you groan. The couple of sips you manage to get feel like rain hitting hot asphalt.

You stumble into the bathroom, garnering a couple of stares from girls who looked fresh and pretty. Pretty girls, who and been up drinking coffee and gallivanting this beautiful Sunday morning. These girls giggle in the library, and share chocolate frogs. These girls never throw up in the shower.

Thank Merlin for magic. You think as you make it disappear with a spell. You’re determined to stand under that shower until the hot water boils off all your sins. Or at least all your thoughts about that dark haired psychopath, who keeps slipping in between the pounding in your head.

You scrub your skin until it shines. You brush your teeth with a vengeance. You put on lotion and perfume, even blow dry your hair. You wear lipgloss and mascara. You’re only 65% sure you’re not dying.

For hours you wander, into the Great Hall, into the Slytherin common room. Mumbling to your friends to shut up. Hiding behind your sunglasses again. But you can’t hide from Tom who lurked in the shadows like a lion hunting his prey.

Tom had been watching you since he saw you stumble into the Great Hall. Your little sundress and sandals, your perfect hair and those giant fucking sunglasses. His eyes wander over your body, your legs, your hips your breasts. He almost had you last night. After you left he was furious, not only because he didn’t get the answers he wanted. He didn’t get you either.

You fluttered around the castle as if the constant movement could hide the pain you were in. He fingered the potion in his pocket, he had brewed early this morning. A hangover potion, trying to decide when to make his move.

Finally you landed in the Slytherin common room, stretching into the couch like a cat. The hem of dress flirting with the top of your thighs. The sight pained him so badly he bit his own lip.

Your head was tipped to the side as you laid on the luxe green couch. He couldn’t tell if you were asleep .Those giant sunglasses he wished he could confringo were covering your eyes too well. He put his tongue in his cheek trying to decide if he should take the chance and Legilimens you or if he should give you the hangover potion.

Of course, he didn’t know that you had been watching him contemplate the two options as he stood over you. You tip your sunglasses down and glare at him.

“Did you ever consider that I beat you at the duel because I’m simply that good.” You say not hiding your annoyance.

Tom nearly jumped when you spoke, his look of surprise quickly turned into a grimace.

“Impossible. You’re a vapid whore” he spat angrily.

You pushed yourself up on your forearms, finally fed up with him.

“And you are a pretentious little know it all, who is not nearly as smart as he thinks he is!”’you rant chest practically heaving in anger,”you’re arrogant, only leaning on your fathers name and status, the dark lord should be ashamed to see you resting on your laurels. I could occlude you in my fucking sleep!” You snap, cheeks flushed in pure rage.

Tom looks peaked by your words. His mouth drops open and closes. He is…impressed. By your anger and confidence. You insulted him the same way you duel, with fire and passion. He says nothing, he only shoved your legs over so he can sit down next to you. You sit up. He takes the small vial of hangover potion out of his pocket and hands it to you.

You give him a side eye, and open to smelling it. You recognize its scent immediately and take it. You play with the empty vial in your hands.

“I still hate you,”you grumble at him.

He looks at you sidelong and pushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear,”I hate you too. Slut.”

“Sociopathic fuck”

“Superficial bitch”

“Brown nosing-“

You get cut off as he grabs your face, he tips your head back softly. Your lips brush against eachother making you gasp as you part them further. Your tongues touch with voltage, they dance against eachother and your eyes nearly roll back. Your arms are around his shoulders as his hands tangle into your hair.

Silence follows you both down the hall. Into his room. Before the door is closed his lips are on your neck, sucking and biting as you make quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

His hands nearly claw up your thighs to take two handfuls of your ass as his lips roughly crash onto yours again. Your teeth scrape together, tongues fighting for dominance. He pulls back panting, taking the straps of your dress and pulling them down your shoulder as you tug his hair needily.

Zip. The sound of his slacks falling in time with your dress. Nearly tripping over his pants, he shoves on the bed. Nothing about your movements are sensual. They are furious with hunger. He bites your neck as you claw his back, your flurry of breaths and whines are silenced as he pulls back.

You lay beneath him as the starkness of both of your expose bodies hits you. He lays kneeled between your legs, one hand gripping your waist. Both of your eyes survey eachother, mouths open in lust.

Finally they draw together, a gaze that only deepens the fire that is threatening to set the bed ablaze. He pushes into you making you gasp and arch your back. His thumb traces over your lip as he moves slowly, teasingly. His eyes never leaving yours.

Drawing breaths and gasps from your mouth as you feel yourself being stretched and released. His hand drops down slowly to wrap around your throat. His deep controlled pace never faltering, you expected fast and hard. Somehow the smooth, painfully slow and measured pace is maddening to you.

Your eyes roll back as you moan loudly, the heat coiling inside you threatening to snap as he draws out your orgasm. His hand squeezes as you scrunch your face, teetering onto the edge of your climax.

Right as the heady feeling rips through your body, he picks up his pace. It earns a breathy scream from your lips, he fucks you right through your peak. Hard. Making you writhe your hips and grasp at the hand still around your throat. White hot pleasure blinding out all of your other senses.

He smirks at you only making your hatred and desire intensify.

“You even fuck like a deranged-“ you start but he cuts you off by flipping you around. His hand clamping against your mouth as he takes you from behind.

“Shut up for the love of-“ he mumbles between thrusts and moans. He bites your shoulder softly as his free hand reaches between your legs to stroke your swollen clit.

You begin to come undone, making his excitement grow. Your legs give out from the intensity, as your stomach hits the bed he continues to fuck you into the mattress, the hand that held your mouth now softly tugging at your hair. He leans closer and you feel his breath tickling your shoulder blade, his moan near your ear nearly has you close again. Is this why all those girls are so obsessed with him? You wonder

“Get off” you mumble suddenly surprising him. He slowly pulls his hips away and you turn to look at him.

“Lay back” you tell him, he only raises his eyebrow in amusement.

“No” he says plainly as he moves to kiss you again.

You draw your lips away and smile, “Lay back or I leave”. He glares at you before letting himself lay back on the bed. You crawl over and straddle him, sinking your hips down onto him slowly as payback. He immediately grips your hips to move you but you surprise him by slapping him across the face softly.

“Patience” you whisper. He can’t help but smirk and loosen his grip. Your hips roll like waves in the ocean, his eyes shut and his head falls back as you ride him with the same intensity as he tortured you with.

“Fuck…” he mutters as you squeeze your kegel muscles and begin to snap your hips forward faster. His fingers dig into your waist as you both pant and moan.

“You really are a good little slut” he mutters and you draw your hand back again to strike but he catches your wrist and pulls you towards him.

You fall forward on his chest and he holds you there; bringing up his hips to take control and fuck you at a faster pace. Another sweet burn makes you whine into his chest as his arms interlock around the small of your back. His movements are getting sloppy and slower and he mumbles your name breathlessly.

“Oh fuck Y/N…oh “

Hearing your name escape his lips, is enough to throw you over the edge as you both buck and gasp into your shared climax.

A chorus of breaths overtake both of you, as you collapse onto him covered in sweat. You feel his arms ease up on you, his hand strokes your back softly. His lips nestling against your forehead.

“I want a rematch” he says as he pants,”to the duel. I need a rematch”.

You roll your eyes as you breathe into his chest.

“You’re impossible.”

Taglist: @abbiesxox

[cardansriddle]

"You know how to ball, I know Aristotle" - (tom riddle x fem!reader)

Summary: Tom finds himself harbouring a small crush on the Slytherin Chaser.

Warnings: None, just pure fluff. As always, not proofread, so apologies for any mistakes.

A/N: First post in months, hi, hello, I'm alive!!! This one is heavily inspired by the lyrics "you know how to ball, I know Aristotle" from so high school by taylor swift (obviously). And we all know Tom is the nerd in any scenario.

༻♛༺

The players soared through the azure sky, their movements orchestrated with precision and grace as the game began. Quidditch had never held any allure for Tom; he deemed it brutish and an unworthy diversion from his personal pursuits. After all, he would rather spend his hours on research to further his magical skills, become the most powerful wizard of all time and accomplish his one ultimate life ambitions.

Yet he had been dragged to the game by his persistent, relentless Knights. Half of them had already taken to the field, while the remainder bellowed raucous cheers from the stands. That is, if one could call creative chants being hurled at the Gryffindor team cheering.

With a disdainful curl of his lip, Tom reached for the book nestled at his side, fully intending to pass the time by reading. Yet, before he could even read a word, a chorus of gasps pierced the air, followed by a rush of wind that tousled his dark locks. Startled, he glanced skyward, just in time to witness one of the Chasers of his house team swooping gracefully to intercept the Quaffle hurtling towards an unsuspecting bystander behind him.

She shot a cheeky smirk at whoever she had just saved before gliding away. Something within Tom stirred—an unexpected surge of fascination seized hold of his senses and he found himself tracking her every movement with a newfound intensity. For a moment his scholarly mind analysed her movements with the same meticulous scrutiny he applied to his studies. She moved with a fluidity that seemed to defy the laws of gravity, her every manoeuvre executed with a finesse that demanded attention.

As her lithe form weaved through the chaos of the game, Tom couldn't help but lean forward to pay attention to the game. He was transfixed, his gaze glued on her as she scored a goal after goal.

"See! I told you Quidditch was fun!" Orion Black exclaimed from next to him, hand moving to pat Tom on his back before realising who he was speaking to and forgoing the action all together.

Tom did not bother acknowledging the boy.

The game came to an end as the Slytherin Seeker deftly caught the snitch after a particularly intense dive, and soon enough the entire crowd of students were rushing to congratulate the victorious team. Just like that, Tom was snapped out of his daze. He gathered his belongings and decided to leave.

༻♛༺

The party in honour of the Slytherin team was in in full swing by the time Tom set foot in the common room. He cursed under his breath as he navigated the crowded space, desperate to retreat to his dormitory and escape the chaos that engulfed the room.

Pushing his way through the throng, he passed by the large emerald couch when his eyes caught sight of her. She sat with her friends in a small circle, an amused smirk playing on her lips. The boisterous energy of the celebration seemed to ripple around her. Tom's ears perked up as someone called her name, attempting to draw her attention. He quickly noted the name, etching it into his mind with the same precision he used for memorizing spells.

"It's your turn!"

She waved a hand in dismissal. "I'm good."

"Oh come on! It is not fair for you to give out the most ridiculous dares then run away when it's your turn. Come on, don't be a coward!" Her friend goaded.

"Perhaps if I were a Gryffindor I would be insulted." she replied with a shrug. Despite her nonchalance, her friends’ uproarious protest began to wear down her resolve. Tom could see the determination flicker in her eyes before she finally relented. "Okay, fine! I will play this once!"

"Truth or dare?"

Tom resisted the urge to scoff at the ridiculously childish game they were partaking in. He should have left right then, but he could not deny that something tugged at his curiosity despite his best efforts to remain aloof.

"Dare."

"What happened to you were not a Gryffindor?"

"I'm just trying to determine if I would be a lousy one or not."

Her friend’s eyes narrowed in thought, clearly plotting the perfect dare. Tom was about to move away when her friend's eyes landed on him, and he saw them sparkle in mischief. He was quick to turn away, pretending he could not hear them.

Just as the girl was announce the dare, a couple crashed into him in their impatience to get through, fingers weaved together, jostling Tom and forcing him to step aside. He grimaced as they hurried past, clearly headed for the dorm rooms. When he turned his attention back to the group, he noticed with a start that the girl had disappeared.

Trying ignore the bizarre pit of disappointment in his stomach, he turned on his heel to head up to his room for the night. He had already lingered more than enough. Just as he turned, another figure crashed straight into his chest. With a string of colourful curses under his breath, he automatically grabbed to steady the person. Tom had lost all his patience, and he was about to snap with something mean when his gaze landed on the Slytherin Chaser.

Whatever sharp words he’d been preparing evaporated in an instant. His focus shifted entirely to the pair of wide, doe-like eyes staring up at him innocently. Too innocently. His instincts told him it spelled trouble.

"Oh, Riddle! I'm sorry, I tripped over my own feet." She said with a sheepish smile, a feigned apology dancing on her lips. Tom narrowed his eyes. She was an athlete, her entire existence on the pitch was defined by her precision and grace. He knew well enough she wasn’t the type to stumble over her own feet.

He opened his mouth to retort but she beat him to it. "Did you watch the game today?"

"Yes," he responded curtly, his gaze never leaving hers, trying to decipher her game.

"Really? I thought you never attended the games. Well, what did you think of it?"

The corner of Tom's lip curled as he replied. "First and last time. Your Quaffle almost disfigured my face."

She raised a brow. "No, the ball almost disfigured Adrian. Your charming smile was in no danger, I assure you."

"My charming smile, yeah?"

A delicate blush crept up her cheeks, turning them a pretty shade of pink under his teasing gaze that she was trying—and failing—to conceal. Tom felt a wave of smug satisfaction at the reaction he had drawn from her. Slowly, he twirled his wand between his long fingers, savoring the moment, letting the tension simmer in the air between them. His movements were slow, deliberate, before he lifted her chin ever so slightly with the tip of the wand, the cool wood brushing against her skin.

"Well, in any case, congratulations on your victory," he murmured, his voice low as he held her gaze firmly in his. "Disfigured smile or not." Then, with the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, Tom broke away to walk past her, heading toward the dormitory.

He was halfway across the common room when a sudden shout rang out amidst the loud crowd.

"Tom!" Her voice rang out, and just as he was about to glance over his shoulder, a hand reached out and grabbed his wrist, turning him around with unexpected force. His brows knit in confusion as he looked down at her, words forming in his mind but never reaching his lips. Before he could react, her arms were around his neck, pulling him down in one swift motion. Her lips crashed against his, bold and unapologetic, her kiss catching him entirely off guard.

Tom stood frozen, momentarily stunned, every thought, every calculated plan vanishing in the instant their lips met. For a man who prided himself on control, it was the first time in a long while that he felt completely unmoored. The kiss, with its suddenness and intensity, left him reeling in ways he hadn't deemed possible.

He tuned out the instant cheers and whistles breaking out in a wave of noise at the display, his thoughts consumed only by the soft lips moving over his own.

But the moment was over a moment far too soon. her breath uneven, eyes gleaming with nerves. Tom’s heart, which had betrayed him for just a moment, slowly began to settle back into its steady rhythm.

She bit her lip, a sly smile forming as she met his gaze again. "Sorry… I was dared to do that," she said, almost apologetically.

Tom’s expression didn’t falter, but a flicker of irritation crossed his mind. The kiss, the boldness—it had not been her choice. “Of course,” he replied coolly, his voice measured as he ran a hand through his hair. "A dare.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, Tom leaned in just enough to let his words hang in the air between them, lips brushing against her cheek, his voice low and filled with a subtle challenge. “Then… I dare you,” he began, his gaze locked on hers with a teasing intensity, “to do it again.”

He smirked as her eyes widened, clearly caught off guard by his response. Her gaze flickered to his lips for just a second before she pulled back, her smirk widening. "Careful what you wish for, Tom. You might regret it.”

"Only if it results in your Quaffle flying at my face again."

"If you refrain from reading your book at my game, I promise to keep it away from your vicinity next time." She rolled her eyes, but before either of them could speak again, she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him again, this time softer, slower, the lingering laughter fading into something sweeter.

[cravingcoldoreocake123]

Birds of a feather - SMAU

ur.username

Liked by dracopurebl0od, tomriddle_ and 78 other people

ur.username About yesterday… 🤪

tagged dracopurebl0od, nottheonott, mattheo.r, enzo_berkshire, fwpansy, tomriddle_, whosblaise

dracopurebl0od Who’s the sexy blond in the first pic 😍

ur.username Me 🥰 dracopurebl0od I was talking about me.. ur.username oh!

fwpansy Bro enzo kept throwing up all over the place even on me I was literally gonna avada him then myself

enzo_berkshire can you not plaster my business all over the internet for the whole world to see please? 😒 it literally wasn’t even my fault tom dared me to take 8 shots back to back tomriddle_ never daring you or taking you any place ever again. enzo_berkshire NO PLEASE ur.username LMFAOOO

whosblaise uh designated photographer tag please? 🤨

ur.username right sorry 💔

Edit 📸 thanks to whosblaise

mattheo.r

Liked by nottheonott, tomriddle_ and 56 other people

mattheo.r Love babysitting my nephew 🤗

nottheonott somebody save that poor child

ur.username contacting CPS as we speak 😇 mattheo.r can you guys let me have my moment for once thx nottheonott never

fwpansy

Liked by enzo_berkshire, whosblaise and 28 other people

fwpansy why does he sleep like a victorian era child sick with the plague 💀

tagged nottheonott

nottheonott i did NOT consent to this getting posted.

fwpansy cry about it nottheonott take this shit down RIGHT NOW my hoes gon see it enzo_berkshire take this down pansy his imaginary hoes gon see it 😔

ur.username HE SNORES LIKE ONE TOO

fwpansy i can confirm, 0/10 experience 👎🏻 dracopurebl0od #theonottisoverparty ur.username draco get back to practice dracopurebl0od yes ma’am 🫡 nottheonott get a room ur.username, dracopurebl0od dracopurebl0od what if we’re in one already 😏 fwpansy ew

ur.username

Liked by dracopurebl0od, tomriddle_ and 100 other people

ur.username one single thread of gold tied me to you <3

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[msgrieves]

𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒃𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒚 𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅

summary : tom riddle decides to give you a lesson in herbology when you seem to be slacking 💞

warnings : smut, in public (a library), she/her pronouns used, dumbification, handgag??, fingering, lowercase intended!!

ೃ⁀➷ this is my first time writing a fic/smut so be warned for cringe; fyi i chose to make the reader's last name carrow!!; written in 3rd person because i can't bring myself to write in 2nd person rn 😣😣; no use of y/n

lonely, she felt. amidst the solitude of the library she felt lonely. all signs of life had long left, leaving her alone with merely her own consciousness and the heavy snores emitting from madam scribner's dribbling mouth.

she felt like she was going crazy, rereading over the same article over and over again, fruitlessly scavenging for any information she hadn't picked up through her last fifty searches. in the pindrop silence she heard a cough, nearly sending her into a heart attack; glancing up from her disordered desk she met the protruding gaze of tom riddle,

"miss carrow, are you aware the library closed over twenty minutes ago?"

his expression mocked her, as if she was unaware of such primary rules. of course the library had closed long ago, she'd been checking her rustic pocket watch every five minutes in fear of a professor waltzing in and catching her. she feigned a tone of innocent obliviousness:

"oh sorry tom, i seemed to have lost track of time, i best be on my way now."

she hastily shuffled out of her seat, slotting assortments into her rugged leather satchel and slinging it over her shoulder in a hurry.

"not so fast.." riddle tutted at her condescendingly.

he took a sharp inhale, glancing at his dress shoes before back up her, taking a small step back.

"how come you're out so late?"

the dreaded question.

she'd hoped to escape him before he had the chance to completely humiliate her: give her a good scolding.

"..studying" she answered, vague.

a questioning look arose on his face.

"studying?" he repeated, his voice mocking hers.a simple nod would do.

"for what?"

"herbology."

an incredibly useless subject she took only because she wanted as many qualifications as possible.

he scoffed, he'd certainly shown up in a pissy mood. there was an uncomfortable pause, him looking her over before opening his mouth again.

"you're free to go."

her eyes widened, her tongue unable to stop herself from saying:

"what?"

...

"would you like a detention then?"

"..no" she shook her head, quickly.

"then leave, now." he repeated, this time firmer than before.

well this was shocking. he'd allowed her to leave freely. normally it'd take an entire hour of him berating her before even considering letting her return to her dorm - usually accompanied with a week's worth of detentions, just because he could.

she didn't pass the oppurtunity, scurrying out before he had the chance to rethink his decision. she didn't question why he let her off the hook. she was simply thankful he did.

a day had passed. it was now sunday night. she had the huge herbology test in only a few hours. she couldn't score anything below outstanding, otherwise her parents would be upset with her, professor beery would be dissapointed, and riddle would get one over on her but that mattered very little to her considering the worser consequences.

again she sat at her little table tucked away in the corner of the library. the incompetent librarian snoring away as per usual.

she took a break from her relentless studying, idly volunteering her help by sorting jumbled books which the first years had so carelessly tossed around.

she strolled a lap of the lavish library, sorting out obvious messes of disordered books before returning to her desk, finding riddle occupying her seat.

without needing to announce herself, he spoke up, somehow just knowing she was there.

"you've got this all wrong."

a focused look fixed upon his face as he flicked through the endless notes she'd written over the past week on the various plants professor beery had instructed the class to research.

"excuse you?" she scoffed in annoyance, striding largly over to him and harshly snatching the worn notebook from his hands.

who did he think he was? searching through her personal belongings?

"your notes. they're all wrong." he repeated, a blank look on his face as he fixated his gaze on her now, leaving her stomach a fluttering mess which she chose to ignore in fear of what could be revealed about her stemming from it.

"you shouldn't've even been snooping through my stuff. get up." she urged, waiting for him to move so she could reclaim her seat.

"but they were wrong-"

"-i don't care, get up."

his jaw clenched and he inhaled sharply, standing up nevertheless as she resat in her wooden chair. he pulled another over, inviting himself to join.

"i think you're forgetting whose in charge here."

he gave her a daunting glare, sitting down next to her. in all fairness as head boy he had the ability to send her back to her dorm right now, seeing as she was out past curfew, again.

"now.." he took a breath "do you need my help?"

he sounded empathetic. shocking for someone like him, who despite his charming reputation she knew to be one carless soul.

"no, i do not need your help-"

"-i think you do." he replied, his blunt tone not budging.

he brought his chair closer to her, gently taking the notes from her hands and spreading them on the table in front.

before, him going out of his way to help her seemed like a distant fantasy. what on earth was his motive behind this?

"read over your notes for me."

he placed a strong hand on her shoulder, patting it harshly as if it were an easing, friendly gesture, but instead it caused her to stiffen and shrink further into her seat.

"the entire thing?"

"would you like a detention?"

he kept using that stupid threat. it worked every time though. she took a deep breath, biting back her anger.

"lavage-"

"first of all you've spelt it wrong."

he interrupted abruptly, bringing his hand from her shoulder to point it at the word written in a messy scrawling at the top of the parchment, then residing it down on her thigh. she tensed up, unsure of how exactly should she react.. should she push him off? she wasn't quite sure how she felt just yet.

with his right hand he borrowed her quill, scratching out the incorrect spelling to rewrite it as 'lovage' in a smaller font just above her old writing.

"continue" he hummed, now drawing light circles with his thumb onto her upper thigh.

her breath hitched, she tried to steady its pace, restarting her reading.

"lovage.. similar to broccoli-"

his hand made a sudden dip to explore her inner thigh.

"celery." he corrected, not arrogantly.

strange. he was being helpful, not mocking her for being wrong.

"celery." she repeated affirmatively, "its common use-"

merlin this man wouldn't shut up and let her talk.

"start from the beginning. once your done you can return to your dorm.. depending on how well i think you've done."

how well he thinks she's done?? in what world is that fair. she scowled at him, giving him a distasteful look, though he was too focused on the notes in front of the two of them to notice.

she took a deep breath,

"lovage." she repeated, rather dramatically.

his fingers began tracing higher up her thigh, slipping up her skirt and beginning to toy with the elastic hem of her undergarments beneath the desk.

"similar to celery, its common usages are-"

her sentence was cut by a breathy moan, where in gods green earth did that come from.

he'd traced lower down to her cunt, his fingers precise and sure.

"restart." he sighed exasperatedly, as if nothing out of the ordinary was occuring.

for merlin sake, he was nearly fingering her under the table- and she let him??

she groaned, in annoyance of his persistance, in annoyance of his fingers hovering so teasingly over where she needed him most.

"lovage. similar to celery. its common usages are for befuddlement draughts,"

"and what else?"

"what do you mean 'what else'??- the book only sAI-"

his index had slipped between her already moistened folds, applying the lightest pressure to her clit as he dipped the tip of it into her hole, she stiffled an unholy noise from seeping out from between her lips.

"quiet. madam scribner's still asleep." he warned, holding back a cocky grin.

what a sick freak. fingering her in a fucking library?? what was he thinking?

she covered her mouth at the attempt of another moan pushing through with his movements unceasing, abiding silently despite the protests inside her head.

she shook her head after a moment, her brows furrowed.

"i can't do this."

"sure you can dear."

"no, no, no i genuinely can't-"

she couldn't. not with someone she hated so much but was so attracted to? all it did was fuck with her feelings.

"keep reading."

she gulped dryly, trying to restart but without warning he'd slipped a first finger into her. she covered her mouth with her hand again, muffling the lewd noises from the innocent ears of the librarian a few metres away. sure the distance between them and madam scribner was large but it was only them there. if she woke up, there was no hiding.

deep breaths.

"lovage, similar to cE-lery, its common usages are for befuddlement draughts,"

her voice cracked as he swiped her clit with his thumb.

"well actually any confusing draughts." he interjected.

she groaned loudly in frustration with him interrupting and with the pressure he fiddled her with. he now clasped his own hand around her mouth, shushing her.

"that's all you need to know for this plant, don't worry about the rest dear." he eased, her taking his word for it seeing as she just wanted him to end this torture already.

he pushed in another finger, her slouching down on the chair as much as she could to push him deeper inside her.

he waited a second, slowly beginning to slide them in and out, careful as to not make excessive amounts of noise with the obscenely slick sounds envolping the silent room. the rough ends curled up, fingers exploring her insides with expertise.

she could've came on just two fingers alone.

"tell me, what was the name of the plant again?" he questioned quietly, his pace fastening by the second.she was limp now, lost in his touch. this was becoming clearer now. it was just his sick and perverted way of humiliating her.

"..huh, m'sorry..?" she asked, nearly sounding drunk as her eyes gazed up at his again.

"name of the plant dear," he uttered, looking her into her soul as he was reminded of how easily he would sway the morals of others simply by using his less.. dignified skills along with his good looks.

"lavage," she answered, confident as she didn't think over her answer.

"haven't you been listening? or has me simply slipping a finger or two into you made you this dumb?" he cooed, his words lined with a condescending type of mocking.

"oh, fuck- lovage i meant-"

she was quick to correct herself, earning a swipe at her clit as he began to pay more attention to it.

he sighed, as if this was an inconvenience to him - if so why was he doing this?

"and it's similar to?"

merlin, she didn't need an entire herbology lesson whilst he was messing around with her insides.

"celery,"

she was met with an ever deeper push of his fingers, hitting a spongey area deep inside her, one she didn't even think was possible for him to reach with his fingers alone.

"again."

"..celery..?"

she was confused to say the least, his motive was rather unclear.

he tutted and abruptly pulled out his fingers, wiping them on the inside of the fabric as he slipped them out of her panties, smearing the remainder of her juices that he unsucessfully wiped away onto her thigh, making the sheer tights she wore glossier.

she squirmed, an uncomfortable tensing in her abdomen having being left to suffer.

"why- why d'you stop?" she murmered, her thighs rubbing together to mimic the previous sensation but not even being able to come close to the pleasure of it.

"i need to work harder to knock my teachings out of your pretty little head."

ೃ⁀➷ sorry for the abrupt ending i just wanted to get something out, lmk if you want a part two !!

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

[cloveswifey]

Real to me ~ Mattheo Riddle

✮ ✮ ✮

Y/n and Mattheo find themselves in an unexpected situation after attending a party.

Adrian Pucey (y/n’s ex) begins bothering her at this party. In a surprising turn of events, Mattheo, despite being enemies with Y/n, decides to step in. He pretends to be her girlfriend to ward off Adrian's advances and protect her from any further harassment.

The following morning, both Y/n and Mattheo awake to the news spreading around school that they are now dating. With their newfound "relationship" having become the topic of discussion, Y/n and Mattheo are left with no other choice but to continue pretending to be a couple.

✮ ✮ ✮

Chapters ↴

Chapter zero

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

[slytherinslut0]

tom riddle. | everyone has their vices

summary: tom riddle tells you he jerks off (and more) to relieve stress. just….in typical tom fashion.

word count: 2k

tags: 18+, suggestive content, so much tension you’ll choke on it, frustrating subliminal tom riddle (though reader is just as stubborn), flirting, masturbation insinuation, make out sesh.

"But how?”

Tom inhaled sharply, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he prepared to reexplain for what felt like the hundredth time. "Because, the slightest distraction or doubt can result in consequence—as I said previous. A momentary lapse in any of the areas we covered will result in splinching."

You blinked, staring at him like he'd spoken an alternate language. The late night and the relentless focus on Tom's face for the past four hours had blurred everything into a haze and dulled his voice into a monotonous hum, blending with the soft rustle of parchment and the distant lapping of the lake against the window. He could see it—your disconnection, the way his words slipped past you like water through fingers.

He exhaled, slumping back in his chair, a hand raking through his dark hair in frustration. "Should we call it a night?"

"Probably," you muttered, your gaze drifting to the window behind him, the surface of the Black Lake rippling under the moonlight. "You've overloaded my brain. I stopped comprehending two hours ago."

You felt Tom's eyes narrow slightly as he studied you—you must have looked a mess. Strands of hair had fallen out of your ponytail, your uniform shirt was half undone, and there was a dullness in your eyes that spoke of more than just exhaustion. A week bedridden with the flu had set you back, and now, despite Tom's best efforts, you felt like you were drowning.

He knew you were stressed beyond measure—you were normally not like this.

"You need to relax," he said, the words landing with the flatness of an undisputed fact. "You won't retain anything in the state you're in."

"How can I relax when I'm two weeks behind? And exams are next week?" Your voice cracked with the weight of your frustration as you leaned your elbows on his desk, burying your face in your hands. "I'm helpless, Tom. I know you know it."

"Would I be sitting here wasting my time if I thought you were helpless?" He watched you, almost clinical in his intensity as he spoke—tone matter-of-factly, devoid of any false comfort. It cut through your despair with ease. Tom Riddle never did anything without purpose; if he was here, it meant he believed you were worth the effort. "My suggestion is that you reset your brain," he continued, his voice steady like his fingers as he shut the textbook between you. "Take a walk. Have a cold shower. Jump in the lake. Whatever you need to do to decompress."

The simplicity of his suggestions almost made you laugh, but it was the kind of laughter that would easily turn into tears if you let it. Tom had a way of stripping everything down to its most basic form—of cutting through your stress and chaos and presenting you with a simple, unvarnished answer.

You were a mess, and he was telling you to fix it—no coddling, no pity, just a clear-eyed assessment of the situation. And somehow, that was exactly what you needed to hear. You appreciated him for it.

"Decompress, huh. I don't believe I've ever done such a thing." You leaned back in your chair with a lopsided grin, arms crossed. "Is that what you do? Jump in the lake?"

Tom let out a huff, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in what was almost—almost—a smile.

"Something like that."

Interesting—Tom Riddle, always so composed, every inch of him meticulously put together, as if the mere idea of stress was a foreign concept. You couldn't imagine him spiralling, not the way you did—frankly, you couldn't imagine him ever feeling overwhelmed at all.

The curiosity gnawed at you, wondering what he did to unwind—what rituals or habits did the untouchable Tom Riddle indulge in when no one was watching?

"Something else, then?" You pushed it further, gently, your eyebrow arching just slightly.

For a moment, his gaze flickered, something dark and inscrutable passing behind his eyes. You knew he was considering your words, debating whether to indulge your curiosity or keep you at arm's length. Such a fascinating creature he was—all brick walls and boarded windows—you had a feeling he was going to shut this down.

Until, he leaned forward.

"If you're asking if I have habits—I suppose I do," he said, your eyes drawn to the way his lips moved, the way his voice curled around each syllable. "Habitual things I do to—relax, let's say."

You hummed and pulled your lower lip between your teeth as you considered him—fighting to hide your amusement. That was the biggest personal moment you've had out of Tom Riddle since the day you met him in first year where he told you his name.

"Well, isn't that a revelation," you teased, toying with the edge of your skirt. "Just the mere insinuation that Tom Riddle has to do something to relax—as though he's not always cool, calm, and collected like he lets on."

His lips curled slightly at your words, his gaze dipping briefly from your eyes to your mouth, trailing lower in a slow, deliberate sweep that brushed over your chest before landing back on the desk.

Your brain buffered, tingles in the wake of his wrath. He picked up his quill, spinning it idly between his fingers. 

"Everyone has their vices—if they don't, they end up like you," he said, his tone laced with an ambiguity that made you wonder just how deep his ran. "Perhaps it's time you found some."

You scoffed, leaning further back in your chair, the fabric of your shirt pulling tighter across your chest. You forced yourself to ignore the visceral reaction your body had as you caught the brief flicker in Tom’s gaze—the way his eyes darted up to the movement before he quickly masked his expression.

For a moment, you thought you might be imagining things, but the tensing of your thighs betrayed a reaction you couldn't quite shake.

"And what are yours?" You asked after a moment, your voice softer now. Tom Riddle was many things, but he was not a conversationalist—and yet here he was, indulging your curiosity instead of shutting it down. He was humouring you, and you intended to make the most of it. "Decompressing with bland tea and ancient tomes? Sneaking into the Restricted Section when no one's looking?"

“Mm, no.” Tom let out a snort, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips— "I’d say my vices are less...pedestrian, than all that."

The quill in his fingers stilled—the change in his demeanour was subtle, though you felt it in the air—electric, making your pulse quicken. He traced the edge of the feather with the tip of his thumb, the motion slow and deliberate, and you found yourself inexplicably distracted, fighting the urge to shift in your seat.

Why in Merlin's name was that so damn captivating?

"Less pedestrian?" You echoed, curiosity at an all-time-high. "What do you do, then, Tom? Dance naked by the light of the full moon?"

"I should hope not," he laughed—a low, rumbling sound that resonated in the pit of your stomach as you giggled alongside him. The quill twirled again in his fingers, the motion languid, almost hypnotic. "No, I'd say my vices are more...private. Less suited to polite company. Perhaps I should let you guess since the mystery of it seems to fascinate you so."

The look he gave you made you stiffen, a challenge—no, a dare—clear in his deep, dark eyes. Your thighs involuntarily reacted again—less suited to polite company?

"I believe I've already made several guesses," you tried to compose yourself with a shallow inhale. "I'm quite at a loss."

He shook his head, stifling his grin. "Clearly, you lack imagination."

"Clearly, you enjoy being cryptic." You shot back, unable to stifle yours.

At that, he hummed—it was obvious your stubbornness was as entertaining to him as it was aggravating. Perhaps you could say the same. He set the quill down, his eyes on yours as the fingers of his free hand began to tap idly on the desk—and then his gaze dipped again, tracing the curve of your lips before drifting lower, a slow, deliberate path that made you tense.

For a moment, you wondered if the tension in the air was all in your head. Was he always this adventurous with his eyes?

"When the mind is under strain," he began, his voice smooth, clinical, "it's a result of an excessive influx of neural signals. Synapses misfire, disrupting cognitive function. A basic physiological response." He watched your reaction closely, as though gauging the impact of his words. "To address such a state, one must reestablish control over these neural pathways. To be direct, I find the most efficacious methods involve tasks that stimulate the senses without being emotionally or physically taxing. A simple, repetitive action can suffice—something arbitrary enough to encourage the subconscious to lose focus."

You fought the urge to scowl at his change in speech—Tom knew damn-well just how overwhelmed your brain was—and then continued to recite scientific jargon as if it were his full-time occupation.

You’d almost be mad if it weren’t for the fucking words that stuck to the inside of your ears—stimulate, repetitive, lose focus—

"You're a walking textbook, aren't you?" You continued to play it off—you didn't want to make assumptions—you hated the way he danced around the edges of things, never quite saying what he meant. "Be specific."

Tom's grin grew as he leaned in slightly, his fingers stilling on the desk between you. "I find tasks that involve the hands particularly useful. Something that can be repeated in a smooth, steady rhythm, with little conscious thought required. The ability to lose oneself in the pattern is key."

Merlin help you—the atmosphere in his dorm had changed with those words; the air turned viscous, cloying, each breath sticking in your throat like syrup—hands, steady rhythm, lose oneself—the words pulsed with implication, even if it was buried under layers of his typical, infuriating ambiguity.

He was absolutely referring to—no—no assumptions—

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. "So...knitting?"

The words tumbled out, a weak attempt at humour to cut through the tension, but they hung lifeless in the air—as hollow as the chuckle that rumbled from Tom's chest.

His eyes traced over you, lingering in a way that made your skin prickle. "Not exactly."

"Hm. A different kind of needlecraft, perhaps." You shifted in your seat, trying to inject a semblance of nonchalance into your posture.

But you weren't fooling him—you never had—

"How much longer are you going to play coy?" He murmured, the amusement clear from light-years away.

Heat surged up your neck, the flush burning across your cheeks, betraying you—"how much longer are you going to continue holding your tongue?"

Your voice came out sharper than intended, laced with a challenge you barely felt capable of meeting. You and Tom had always been cordial, the slight suggestive comment here and there, mostly from your end. But this—oh, this was different—this was uncharted territory.

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr. "Would you prefer I do something else with it?"

Oh, fuck yes you would—

"You're being obtuse," you practically choked out, though the words lacked the bite you intended. "Entirely vague."

"I'm being clear," he countered, his gaze never wavering. "But you're being obstinate—willfully ignorant to my meaning because you refuse to acknowledge it without me saying it outright."

The air between you dissipated—you tried to grasp for a coherent thought, something to regain your footing, but your mind faltered, stumbling over the implications of what he was saying. His eyes never left yours—and you watched them deepen in colour, black pupils eating away the rich brown of his irises, darkening with something that made the room feel unbearably small.

You could feel the heat rising in your body, pooling low in your belly. How did he do this to you? How did he turn you inside out with nothing more than words and that infuriating, knowing smile?

"Tell me," you breathed, hating how desperate the words sounded, "what do you do with your hands, Tom?...how do you use them to relieve...stress?"

The second those words left your lips you realized what was truly happening here—Tom Riddle never did anything without intent—every word, every pause, every smirk, was a thread in a web he was weaving, intricate and inescapable. He'd led you here, gently, subtly, with the barest hint of force, and now that you were caught, you realized that you wanted this.

Needed it.

And it was clear he did too. Otherwise you'd never have gotten to this point—he wanted you to push, to dig deeper—your stomach twisting as you watched Tom wet his lips, but there was no smirk on them this time.

Only something intense—jaw set, eyes focused—

"I think we both know what I do with my hands," he whispered, the double entendre clear in every syllable— "you knew exactly what I was insinuating the moment this started."

Your breath snagged in your throat, a tremor running through your entire body as the warmth pooling in your belly began to spread, sinking lower, threading through every nerve. Your vision narrowed, centering entirely on him—his eyes, the curve of his lips, the way his presence seemed to devour the room, leaving no space for anything else.

And then, you nodded, the movement barely there—a subtle acknowledgment of your understanding.

"Do you touch yourself, Tom?..." the words escaped you, a soft, breathy whisper that you could hardly believe were your own. "Or do you touch someone else?"

For a heartbeat, everything seemed to freeze, suspended in the intensity of those questions.

The world narrowed to the point of his gaze, the sharp line of his jaw—the reality of where you were, what you were doing, almost seemed to blur—trapping you both in a moment that felt surreal, like a scene caught in the still frame of a film. Never—never—had you imagined a conversation like this with Tom Riddle, hardly your acquaintance, the untouchable genius of the school.

And yet here you were, heart pounding, every nerve on fire, and Merlin help you, you were going to wring every drop of this out for as long as you could.

He swallowed, and you watched the movement, entranced. "Depends on my level of stress."

Tom's expression was unreadable—except for the subtle tension in his shoulders as he leaned back, spreading his legs a fraction wider, the fabric of his dress shirt straining against the flex of his biceps—

"...and how stressed are you right now?" You whispered, reckless, without a trace of restraint.

Tom's throat bobbed with another swallow, a gesture so simple yet so charged that it sent your pulse roaring in your ears.

"Quite," he murmured, his voice taut, stretched thin. "The past four hours have been rather taxing—wouldn't you agree?”

A nervous laugh bubbled up, escaping before you could stop it. You tried to steady yourself, drawing in a slow, shaky breath. You had never felt so intensely aroused and frustrated in your life, and you knew, without a bloody doubt, that he was perfectly aware of it.

"Are you trying to imply l'm the cause of your stress?"

"On the contrary," he said, his gaze raking over you, his eyes dark and hungry, as if you were something to be consumed, devoured whole. "I'm saying you've exacerbated it. Though I'll concede a fair share of the responsibility—as it is mine, after all."

"How kind of you," you whispered, voice trembling with the effort to maintain composure. "To admit your own fault in the matter."

"I'm a kind man." His voice was a low purr, the kind that seeped into your bones, making your blood thrum with anticipation. "I like to take responsibility for my shortcomings."

Yes, yes—so very kind—

"Then take it."

The words left your mouth before you could second-guess them, a challenge thrown into the thick, suffocating air between you. The tension was a living thing now, colled tight, ready to snap, turning your insides into a churning mess of want and need.

Tom arched an eyebrow.

"Take it?" He echoed. "And what exactly do you want me to take, sweetheart?"

Sweetheart.

The pet name rolled off his tongue with a casual ease that sent a flush of heat straight to your core— the simple word wielded like a weapon, striking you down with its intimacy. There was no denying the power that name held over you, especially when coming from his lips.

"The responsibility..." you whispered, the words trembling as they left you, barely more than a breath. "…for your..." you hesitated, your eyes locked onto his as you finally said, "…shortcomings."

For a moment, everything hung in the balance—until, oxygen extinct, Tom leaned forward, closing the space between you until he was so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, mingling with your own.

Curse this fucking desk between you.

"My shortcomings," he repeated, his eyes flicking to your lips. "Is that all I should take responsibility for?"

"Are you suggesting..." you leaned in as well, the distance between you shrinking to a breath—your gaze drawn to his own mouth—the plush of it, how bad you wanted to feel it against yours, "...there's something else you wish to take responsibility for?"

Said mouth curled into the faintest hint of a smile and witnessing the shift this close felt dangerously religious—as though you'd experienced something sacred not many have before—part of you knew you did.

"Many things," he whispered, the sound soft as velvet, dangerous as a blade. "The list is long and varied..."

The heat in your body was painful—you had never been this close to him, never felt the full weight of his presence bearing down on you like this. His cologne—faint, rich, and so distinctly Tom—overwhelmed you, the same scent he'd worn since you first met him.

It was infuriating, how everything he did was so subtle, simple—yet so fucking intoxicating, so irresistible.

"...I'm not quite sure where to start." His eyes flicked back to yours.

Every word that fell from his lips was a new form of torture, his dark eyes pinning you in place, searing into you. The heat radiating from his body made you want to retreat, to find air, to find space—but the thought of putting any distance between you was unbearable, the need to be near him overriding everything else.

You'd rather lose consciousness than pull back.

"Why don't you start..." you whispered, tilting your head, your teeth grazing your bottom lip. "By fixing the insatiable ache in my curiosity...the one you created when you mentioned how you use your hands...to relieve stress..."

He exhaled, the sound rumbling from his chest like a growl and you could almost imagine that if he parted his lips, you'd glimpse fangs behind them right now—you'd never seen him like this—his gaze predatory, fucking ravenous, and it was as though he could devour you whole if he so chose to.

But you knew better. Tom Riddle would never be so crude. His methods of torment were deliberate—Methodical. A slow depletion of your senses until you're gasping for something only he can give you.

Then, in a voice that was all gravel and silk, he whispered, "is that all that's aching...your...curiosity?"

"Gods no—"

But you never finished that thought—because in an instant, his hand was tangled in your hair, pulling you forward with a force that sent you careening over the desk and into him—Tom Riddles lips crashed against yours, and it was like drowning, his tongue invading your mouth, stealing your breath and dragging all ounces of your cognitive ability along with it.

You were half out of your chair, caught in the gravity of him, unsure if your legs were even working, or if it was his grip alone that held you upright. His free hand found your wrist, pinning it to the desk as his mouth worked you with a fervour that made your head spin. The kiss was incendiary, a wildfire scorching its way through every nerve in your body, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake—the intensity of it, the sheer, unrelenting pressure of his lips on yours, made you wonder how you survived this long without it.

All the heat in your blood pooled low, deep between your thighs, an ache so profound it threatened to consume you. Tom Riddle was about to show you precisely how he used his hands to relieve stress, and Gods, if that wasn’t the only thing you’d ever needed right now.

[incorrectquotesharrypotterv]

Y/n: If I die first, promise to wait for me, okay, Tom?

Tom: Oh, Y/n. When I die, I’m taking you with me.

Y/n: I can’t tell if that’s a threat or a compliment.

Tom: I’d think of it more as a grim inevitability.

[beegomess]

How others see you as a couple || Slytherin boys

Summary: Just other people's impressions of you as a couple. Warmings: None. Requests are open!

masterlist here

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Blaise Zabini

You have a bond that everyone envies;

Everyone comments on how you are the definition of "soulmates";

You are the couple that inspires others to believe in true love;

Your friends ask you for love advice;

You have such a deep connection that it seems like you can read each other's minds.

Draco Malfoy

The affection between you was evident in every gesture;

The connection between you was palpable, even in silence;

It was impossible not to notice the undeniable chemistry between you;

Other people felt attracted to the energy you emanated together;

The trust you had when you were together was seemingly unshakable.

Lorenzo Berkshire

You were the example of genuine and pure love;

Everyone saw you as a dream couple;

Your happiness was contagious to those around you;

The simplicity of your love was charming to everyone;

The way you cared for each other was admirable.

Mattheo Riddle

You were always a recurring topic in the hallways;

The jealousy was evident, but no one could ignore the chemistrybetween you;

The most talked about and envied couple in school;

The teachers were often bothered by the intensity of your relationship;

No matter where you were, you always drew attention;

The gossip about the two of you was constant, but it never shook the relationship;

Disapproving looks from teachers who caught you in empty classrooms were also not uncommon.

Theodore Nott

Everyone noticed the intensity of the feeling between you

Many girls felt a pang of envy when they saw you together;

It was impossible not to notice how you completed each other;

The few times Theo showed joy, it was because of you;

Theo's smile was more frequent when you were around;

You were the couple that everyone talked about and admired.

Tom Riddle

You were watched with cautious, if discreet, eyes;

Dumbledore and other teachers showed a special interest in you, given your affinity for dark magic;

You rarely showed affection in public, maintaining an aura of mystery around your relationship;

To outside observers, you seemed indecipherable, hiding your true intentions and feelings.

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xoxo, bee🫶🏼✨

[pearlstiare]

Real footage of Tom Riddle on Hogsmeade after his date with Y/N - NEW FLASH *he got a kiss*