#tom riddle drabble

[viperify]

drabbles | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⟢ late nights at the library.

All you crave is a break and sleep—but Tom Riddle being your tutor and boyfriend makes your life just a little bit more complicated.

“This is the third time you have gotten this wrong.”

You sighed, leaning back in the chair you were sitting in. “Tom, I know. I just— it’s late, okay? We have been here for what? Five hours?” 

He raised a brow, deep brown eyes meeting yours. “That’s right. So, any reason why you can’t remember? Do I need to explain it again?”

You wished you had known what you were signing up for when you started dating Tom. Endless hours of studying together. Him acting like your tutor when he was supposed to be your boyfriend. He had this never-ending ambition and motivation that you just couldn’t match in the slightest.

Yes, you were one of the better students as well, but nobody and nothing could match Tom Riddle—top student in every single class. Sometimes you wondered how he managed it all. How he could be so perfect. Studying, revising, prefect duties. It was almost like you needed an appointment to meet him, even as his girlfriend.

He seemed like a student as any other—though so special in his own way. The hunger for knowledge and power. The desire to become prefect, head boy, a professor. 

The softer side to him that only you would ever get to see—except when you were studying together, that is. 

“Please, can we just leave? I am so tired.”

You didn’t leave. Not until you finally got it right. Not until you were completely drained, eyelids fluttering closed every other minute.

“Come on, I will bring you to your dorm.” He said softly after returning the books to where you had taken them from. Taking your hand in his and helping you up, he led you out of the dark and empty library. There were no words needed when you arrived at your dorm. The look in your eyes told him everything he needed to know.

Tom exhaled, deeply. “Fine. But just this once.”

He always said that.

A minute later, you entered his dorm instead, and it was as if his guard had dropped the second the door closed behind you both. He took off his and your robes, hanging them on the coat stand behind you. 

And then, without hesitation, he gently pulled you into his arms. He held you close, your head buried against his chest as his hand caressed your hair, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

Finally, your worries started to fade, exhaustion taking over. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he took in your expression, swiftly helping you out of your uniform and into your pyjamas. How he’d gotten them—you didn’t know, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

All you wanted was him—his kisses, his warmth, his support. 

Of course, he knew.

So that’s what he gave you—pulling you close as soon as the both of you lay down, pressing a gentle kiss to your soft lips before letting you cuddle into his side.

“I am proud of you, darling.” Tom whispered right before you drifted off to sleep, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I always am.”

You smiled softly in response, drawing soft patterns on his chest.

“I love you so much, Tommy.”

thank you for reading! feel free to reblog and leave feedback <3 — masterlist. | drabbles.

⋆˙⟡

A/N: Just a little fluffy drabble bc I crave this man’s love and support during exam season. Ugh. <- This is also why I will be posting a little less/shorter works due to me basically having no time to write for the coming two weeks! I love you guys and hope to be back to normal asap! <33

[scribbledlovenotes]

distracted. p.t.r

mdni. professor tom riddle. good grades. bad distractions. age-gap sex.

Months. For months you’ve trapped within the flickering candlelight of the libraries restricted section, parchment and quill in hand as you scribble down notes, pretending to care about the intricacies of advanced magical theory. It’s a ridiculous assignment for a stupid class and the only reason you’re even committed to finishing it is him. Your obsession. The one thing that causes your heart to race and forces your thighs to clench uncomfortably beneath your desk. Him. Professor Riddle. Potentially the one and only reason you returned back for your seventh year. You can’t get enough. Come to notice it; either can the other female students around you from the whispers you’ve heard them speak.

He’s forever tailored to perfection, the robes which drape over his lean frame as intoxicating as the silken menace of his voice as he discusses topics such as the ‘seduction of power linked to dark arts’ or your personal favourite, the ‘elegance of a well cast spell’, as if the words were a spell themselves. You’re hooked; lustful. He knows it, surely. Those dark, melted chocolate eyes of his catch yours just a little too often. Lingering with a heat that feels like what you presume legilimency would as he peels back the subtle layers of your restraint.

It was last Tuesday, after a lecture on the morality of the dark arts that left your head spinning that he stopped you as you gathered your textbooks and piled them neatly into your arms. His presence standing before you was polished yet predatory. Almost like a knifes blade wrapped in velvet. The curve of his smirk; stealing your breath.

 “I’d like to discuss a recent essay you submitted”, Professor Riddle explained, taking his time to fold a piece of parchment between his fingertips tat you couldn’t for the life of you, pull your gaze from. The simple movement almost ritualistic in practice. “Come to my office tomorrow evening. Any time after 6.”

Your heart lurched at the proposal; frantically thudding against the inside of your chest as you felt the back of your neck warm up with a scarlet style fever you’d potentially have to see a nurse about. Every sensible part of you knows that this is just a student-professor discussion. Nothing more, nothing less. However you can’t help but wonder. Should you agree, should you tell anyone, should you brag, should you mention something to your absolutely oblivious Hufflepuff boyfriend who you loved dearly but ugh ��� god, he was fucking useless when it came to feelings. Your wants. Desires. Needs.

“Of course, Professor”, you responded with a small smile; innocently tucking some hair behind your ear which you flicked up on and over the back of your shoulder. “Um, should I bring my boyfriend? He did help me with the paper. Perhaps he could learn something.”

The question came out as pure innocence whispered from between your gloss coated lips as you’re waiting, patiently to try and catch any look or expression that might give away a little more than what Professor Riddle already has; but the shadow in his eyes that transpires like a storm is gone in a blink, as his smile sharpens. A chuckle, rumbling just at the back of his throat. “Just you will suffice. I prefer… focused discussions.”

And with that; the air crackled as if there had been some kind of sudden declaration of a silent challenge.

This evening; the castle is as quiet as the fields of Scotland midwinter as you climb, step by step the stone staircase to Professor Riddle’s office. The air surrounding you on the way thickened by the scent of burning ensconces and a shimmer of magic which leads the way. You knock against the hard wood door before his voice commands you to enter. As the door creaks open, he’s revealed to be sitting behind a desk – quill in hand, grading papers as the roar of the fireplace lights up the office almost.. romantically.

Professor Riddle’s features are sharp. More so now than when you see him during class. He looks absolutely devastating in what he’s wearing; robes hooked up on a wall behind him, the crisp white shirt he’s wearing pulls to sit exactly as it should on his shoulders, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms twilled with a quiet strength. You swallow harshly, eyes tracing up one particular vein that you notice beneath his skin almost poetically and he gestures to the chair across from him as you hesitate before taking a seat. The office’s intimacy – shelves of tomes, trinkets and artefacts on display in a curated yet chaotic fashion closing in like a charm you might just become.

“Your essay”, he begins, picking up the work almost delicately off a pile of others before he hands it to you, “…is bold. I’ll give you that. Yet your research clearly lacks precision.”

You gaze down at the essay; eyes taking in the corrections and question marks scattered over it in a dull, red ink – the grade scribbled into the top corner something you’re vaguely satisfied with but Professor Riddle is clearly not. You attempt to stammer out some kind of response; some knitted reply as an excuse for work you were actually content with, yet you notice from the corner of your eye the way he rises from his seat. His critique a pretence to a game you know you both shouldn’t be playing, yet as he circles around the desk, coming around to where you start, you can’t help but note that each step seems deliberate. Like a wolf closing in on a lamb or in this case, a snake on a mouse which is desperate to feast.

“You have potential”, he murmurs as his steps stop behind you. he’s standing close enough that you can feel his breath graze the back of your neck. “…but clearly you’re distracted.”

Your pulse hammers; skin beginning to gleam with a soft sweat that coats your brow and a thin line down the nape of your neck. You’re suddenly grateful that you never told your boyfriend about coming here; about this little meeting – just that you’d see him tonight, as always for a little alone time and well…

“I’m not”, you manage as a response. Words clear. “Distracted – that is.”

Professor Riddle’s hands find your shoulders as he scoffs a chuckle; running down to the small of your back, burning through your robes. He leans in; lips to your ear, his voice sounding like that of a velvet hex. As his fingers trace along the curve of your skin; slow – possessive, you feel a slick heat that you want to curse away blooming between the chaffing of your thighs.

“Aren’t you? Well..”, he gently guides you up onto your feet, pushing you forward so that you’re pressing against the edge of his desk as he cages you in, body warm pressed up against you. “I still think I’m right. You see that’s a perk to teaching. With a little experience, you begin to learn to read a classroom and see through masks that students prevail while hoping to fool you… and you dear, most definitely, are, distracted.”

A hand slips up beneath your skirt, finding the dampness of your underwear which his fingers push aside with ease and before you know it, both skilled and merciless; he parts your folds, a slick drag up towards your clit that rather quickly swells with need. It’s a blend of a gasp and a choke that escapes you. You lean forward; hands clawing at the wood of his desk and as his fingers continue to circle exactly where you need them, your body trembles; like a wanton secret of his to please.

What follows? That’s a blur. Professor Riddle twists you around; his mouth claiming yours in a kiss that’s bruising. One that tastes like a rich red wine. He manages to muffle your gasps with a firm hand as he undoes his belt with the other and before you know what you’re doing yourself, you shift back and lift onto his desk – lips parted; eyes glued to that wicked smirk he wears before they drop down to his waist, taking in full view of his cock; thick, glistening, that he pumps twice before pressing against your entrance with a friction and tease.

You shouldn’t have. You’re not meant to. Either way, you whisper a desperate ‘please’, and without any patience as what he’s known for, Professor Riddle shifts your thighs further apart to wrap lets around his waist as he fills you with a single deep thrust that takes your breath away. The office falls into silence. You fall back onto the desk. A bottle of ink is spilled. Papers go flying. You hear a quill crack beneath you but couldn’t care less. His thrusts are both torture and bliss. Each movement a revelation. It’s forbidden; it’s fucking perfect. Your thighs split further as he grasps at the soft flesh and you bite down on a knuckle to try and keep yourself quite; relishing the fact that he’s thorough and rough, satisfying. Not quite like your boyfriend.

You hear him spit; saliva hitting your clit which he draws out a series of wand motions you – you know them, they’re the unforgivables and yet you couldn’t care. Your cunt begins to clench around him. You claw a little further at his desk. The desk lamp gets knocked over; you hear the bulb shatter as you cry out a moan through gritted teeth and your back arches up as he spills out inside of you. A warmth flooding in but also dripping down your legs as he withdraws – the both of you breathless.

“Much improved”, he mutters, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear almost tenderly before he taps a teasing slap against your clit as a reminder of what’s just happened. It’s about a minute before you can stand. A minute before you make yourself look a little more decent that you just had been. A minute for your cheeks to swell down from a harsh red to a soft peachy pink and by this time, Professor Riddle has already returned to his seat.

“Same time next week. We can discuss any course work you might be struggling with.”

Is that an offer, or a request? You fix your hair; running your hands through it before you lick your lips and nod. Unable to shake the feeling of what’s just happened.

“You’re an exceptional student. Just – don’t get distracted.  Wouldn’t want you being dissatisfied; it’s a shame about the boyfriend.”

Ugh – that prick. He’d been inside your head the whole time.

“Yes Professor”, you respond as you make your way towards the door to exit; making a mental note to keep this little rendezvous to yourself forever and ever and e—

“Tom.” He corrects you. “Professor Riddle is merely a formality we must maintain within the classroom.”

Fuck. Why’d he have to wait until seventh year.

[nottswitch]

⋆˙⟡♡ VENUS IN SCORPIO

venus in scorpio keeps their walls up at all times, not letting anyone past the cold, unfeeling facade. but beyond the mask lie raw passion and power. if a scorpio venus lets you in, but you end up toying with their emotions instead, you can expect yourself to end up on the receiving end of their… displeasure.

tom riddle x reader

warnings: 18+ mdni, brat taming, face slapping, choking, hints at oral (m receiving)

nav // event / more

"on your knees."

"no."

you stand defiantly, arms crossed on your chest as you regard tom with narrowed eyes. you see the slight clench in his jaw, and the little movement fills you with pride. it’s not often that he reacts to all the bullshit you seem to be constantly pulling, but this time, you might’ve gone too far – and you’re enjoying it far too much for your own good.

"i could make you," he says calmly, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow, yet there’s an undeniable strain to his voice. no one else would notice, but you’ve known tom for far too long not to. "i will make you."

you scoff, lifting up your chin to look more confident, even though tom’s intense gaze is doing a great job at pinning you down. "you can try."

tom doesn’t have to be asked twice. with two long strides, he walks up to you, his eyes flicking up and down your body for a split second. next thing you know, his hand is wrapped around your throat, fingers tightly curling into your tender flesh as he tugs you down. your knees give out without much resistance, roughly thumping against the floor – would’ve hurt more, but a rug provides a cushion.

"you just love being a brat, don’t you?"

your breath gets stuck in your throat as you take a sharp inhale, yet your defiance doesn’t seem to fade away just yet. you look up, taking in tom’s features, pulled together in a small scowl. good, you think, you’re getting a reaction.

"how did you know?" you ask, letting a smirk tug at the corner of your lips – you just know it will irritate him more, which is exactly what you want.

tom tilts his head to the side a bit, bringing his free hand to your face. his thumb glides over your bottom lip, the gesture almost tender, before it’s suddenly pulled away. a sharp slap lands on your cheek, but his hand on your throat doesn’t let your head fall to the side. you hiss, biting your lip to stifle a sound, but the effect can’t be ignored – heat starts coiling low in your stomach, and you clench your thighs together, searching for friction.

"stop that." tom’s foot shifts, pressing at your knee to stop your legs from getting any closer to each other. you try again, but his stance is firm, his foot firmly on the floor, unmoving. his fingers dig further into your neck, tugging you closer to his crotch. you can see the bulge that’s starting to form there, and a smirk is back on your lips, your eyelashes fluttering as you look up at him again.

"what if i don’t?" you ask, your voice just a little shaky, just a little treacherous of your own arousal. tom’s expression doesn’t change, but you can feel his hand moving before his palm connects with your cheek again, leaving a budding yet strangely pleasant sting in its wake.

"then i’ll make you. over and over again."

[heavenlybodies333]

The Ex-Files - T.R.

!warning!:minorsdni, mature content

pairing: ex!Tom Riddle x you

It's been one week since you and Tom had called it quits.

A week since you had stormed out of his dorm, leaving behind the remnants of a relationship that once consumed you both. You had tried—Merlin, you had tried—to be patient. To accept the late nights, the whispered meetings with his followers, the growing obsession with power that seemed to eclipse everything else, including you.

Seven years of knowing him, two of those as his girlfriend—and it all came crashing down because he cared more about his twisted ambitions than he did about you.

And yet, even as you tried to forget him, it seemed like everyone else wanted to remind you.

“He’s different now,” Nott had mentioned offhandedly during Potions, swirling his knife through a pile of knotgrass. “Since you ended things. Girls in and out of his bed every night. Don’t think I’ve ever seen him so...careless.”

You had scoffed at the time, pretending it didn’t bother you. Of course he moved on fast. Why wouldn’t he? Tom Riddle didn’t dwell on things. He didn’t waste time mourning lost relationships. If anything, the fact that he was already fucking his way through Hogwarts should’ve confirmed what you’d told yourself when you walked away: you were never that important to him anyway.

Except... it still stung.

And it wasn’t until Charms class a few days later that you realized there was more to the story.

“You should’ve seen him,” Bellatrix was saying, her voice low but still loud enough for you to catch every word. She was perched next to Cassie Black, nails tapping against her desk as she leaned in conspiratorially. “I mean, at first, it was going fine. I thought I was finally getting somewhere with him. And then—” She paused for dramatic effect, “He said her name."

Cassie's eyes widened. "No."

"Oh, yes," Bellatrix drawled. "Clear as day. Right when he was about to finish too. I mean, imagine how humiliating that is. I’m on top of him, giving him the best he’s had all week, and he’s thinking about her."

Your stomach twisted painfully. You knew exactly who she meant by "her."

You.

Bellatrix kept talking, oblivious to the way your hands curled into fists beneath your desk. "And the worst part? He didn’t even finish. Just pushed me off like it was my fault and said he was done. I don’t think he’s finished with anyone I swear."

Your breath hitched.

So that was the problem.

A bitter, angry part of you wanted to revel in his misery. Good. Let him suffer. Let him realize what he lost. But another part—a part you weren’t ready to confront—hated how much you wanted that to be true.

Later that evening, you found yourself outside his dorm, heart hammering against your ribs. You didn’t know why you were there—at least, that’s what you told yourself.

Your knuckles barely grazed the wood before the door swung open. Tom stood there, shirtless, dark hair tousled like he had just risen from bed. But you knew better. Knew that no matter how many girls he fucked, it wasn’t enough.

“What do you want?” His voice was cold, but you knew him too well to be fooled. His eyes—those dark, consuming eyes—dragged over your body with slow, deliberate intent.

You stepped inside without invitation, brushing past him. “Heard you’ve been busy,” you said, letting the words drip with disdain. “Didn’t take you long, did it?”

Tom closed the door with a soft click, leaning against it. "I didn’t realize you cared."

His honesty was a slap in the face—but you saw the tension coiled in his shoulders, the frustration simmering beneath his composed façade.

“I don’t.” A lie. You let the silence stretch before adding, “But maybe you should be more careful. Calling another girl by your ex’s name? Sloppy, Riddle.”

His jaw tensed, the only sign your words had struck home. For a long moment, he just watched you, the air between you growing thick and heavy.

Tom pushed off the door, advancing toward you with that lethal grace that had always made your knees weak. "You think I haven’t tried to forget?" His voice was low, dangerous. "You think I haven’t fucked them hard enough to chase the taste of you from my mouth?"

Your resolve wavered as he reached you, fingers brushing your jaw. "Poor Tom," you taunted, though your voice trembled slightly. "Finally found something you can’t control."

His lips curled into a cruel smile. "Careful, darling. You’re still mine."

"I’m not yours," you shot back, even as your body betrayed you—leaning into his touch, craving the heat of him.

Tom’s hand slid to the back of your neck, dragging you closer until your breath mingled. "A lie doesn’t become truth just because you repeat it," he murmured before claiming your mouth in a bruising kiss.

The anger melted into need—hot, consuming, and impossible to resist. Your hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue swept against yours.

"This doesn’t mean anything," you gasped as he backed you toward his bed, his mouth trailing down your neck.

"Keep telling yourself that," he said darkly, pushing you onto the mattress.

You should’ve stopped him. Should’ve walked away.

Instead, you let him drag your skirt up, his fingers quick as they slipped beneath the waistband of your panties.

"Already wet for me," he murmured, sliding two fingers through your slick folds. "Miss me that much?"

"Fuck you," you snapped, but your hips lifted to meet his touch.

His laugh low and wicked as he pulled your panties down your thighs. "Gladly."

Tom knelt between your legs, his mouth replacing his fingers without warning. Your head fell back against the pillows, a moan tearing from your throat as his tongue worked you open—slow, precise, and devastating.

"Still taste so sweet," he murmured against your clit, voice thick with hunger.

Your hands fisted the sheets as pleasure curled hot and tight. He was relentless, dragging you higher and higher until you were trembling beneath him.

"Don’t stop," you breathed, and he didn’t—not until you came against his mouth, crying out his name in a way that left no doubt who you belonged to.

Tom wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes burning as he crawled over you. "You’re mine," he said again, voice rough as he unfastened his belt and pushed his trousers down.

"This doesn’t change anything," you warned, though your body betrayed your words, arching beneath him as he pressed the blunt head of his cock against your entrance.

"Of course it does," he said, sinking into you with a devastating precision that made your toes curl.

You gasped, nails digging into his shoulders as he filled you—stretching you in a way no one else ever could. His pace was brutal, every snap of his hips punishing, like he wanted to brand himself into you.

And maybe he did.

"No one else," he growled against your ear. "No one else can have you."

He fucked you like he had been starving. Each thrust was punishing, his fingers leaving bruises along your hips, your thighs. But it wasn’t enough for him. Not until you were moaning his name, nails raking down his back as he came. Profanities spilling from his throat as his warm cum filled you.

It was only afterward, when the air grew thick with the scent of sex and sweat, that the weight of it all settled heavy in your chest.

You slipped out of bed while he lay there watching you, his expression carefully blank as you pulled on your clothes.

“Stay,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a command. Not this time.

You paused, fingers trembling as you slipped back into your skirt. You wanted to. Fuck, you wanted to. But if you did, you knew you would never escape him.

“No.” Your voice was steady. Firm. “We’re done, Tom.”

A flicker of something dark passed through his eyes. Something dangerous. “You’ll come back.”

You shook your head. “Not this time.”

And with that, you walked away—leaving him behind, where he belonged.

part II to this fic

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

a/n: obnoxiously sighs* mc has way more self respect than me cus I would sit my ass right back. inspired again by my darling @shyamanuensis for helping me write it😽💚

ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀ ᴄʀᴇᴅ: @ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ

MASTERLIST

[rafesslxt]

tom riddle headcanons with a reader who is bubbly, likes to wear too much pink, is naive etc (she could still be a slytherin, just not the evil sterotype yk) this is my first time requesting something i really liked your headcanons<:

PRETTY IN PINK

warnings: fluff, some tears, mention of sick family member

note: english is not my first language + this is a little rushed so excuse me pleeease

❀ y/n loves pink since she was a little kid. it almost came naturally

❀ when Tom first met her, he felt like he was in a feverdream. you crushed against him and stumbled backwards a little, his right arm wrapping around your middle to catch you while his body didn‘t even budged. "oh! hi! thank you so much wow uh i guess i didn‘t really see you. I mean you‘re really tall so i guess it‘s my fault for not seeing you since you couldn‘t be taller right? I‘m y/n by the way, I‘m a Slytherin too! You‘re Tom, right? I heard a lot about you and –" "Do you even breathe?"

❀ since that day you wouldn‘t get out of his head. he always catched your sweet perfume - matching your whole aesthetic in the hallway no matter which time or day it was. It lingered around him like a spell.

❀ he always had such a poker face no matter what his emotions deep down were – he never showed them. He only smiled out of formality or to be charming. Then there was you - always smiling, laughing, giggling at everything. There was nothing and no one that wasn‘t able to make you smile.

❀ one evening when everyone was outside the castle to watch a quidditsch game, ravenclaw against gryffindor, Tom decided to walk into the library. It was even quieter than usual when the room was full of students. He sat down in his usual spot pulled out some homework. After a few hours of reading, he heard a quiete giggling coming from a few bookshelfs behind him. His curiosity got the best of him and he searched for the source of the disturbing sound. he walked around the bookshelf and looked right at you with your owl next to you. "oh hey tom!" your voice sounded high pitched as you waved at him. "I didn‘t see you when you walked in! How are you? What are you doing he-" again, he intereupted you. "Can you be quiet?" "oh sorry!" you whisper yelled at him realizing he might wanted to study and needed a quiet place.

❀ you were good with almost everyone in school. everyone in your year greeted you like you did too. helping everyone felt natural to you since you were so caring and loved being there for your friends and even strangers

❀ one night tho, you felt as alone as you never did before. Tom found you sitting alone at the astronomy tower on the wet ground in your light pink floral dress, while it was pouring. and even tho he wasn‘t able to see your tears during the rain on your face, he could see your puffy lips, red eyes and nose. oh, and the heartbreaking look ln your face. "what are you doing out here?" he opened his umbrella and crouched down in front of you, holding the umbrella over you both

❀ you tried not to sob to loud and looked away. "i came outside and uh - it started pouring but–" "i asked what you‘re doing here, y/n." you took a deep, shaky breath before you answered his question properly. "my dad wrote me today and.. my mom is sick.. it‘s not getting worse bit also not better and i‘m so scared that sonethings going to happen to her- i mean-" another sob leaves your throat. "she my mom.."

❀ tom didn‘t know what do do or say, to make you feel better. so he just helped you stand up and took you back inside into the warmth of the castle. he folded the umbrella together before he took of his jacket. "here.. put this on." he says, wrapping it around your shaking body before you could even grab it by yourself. he guided you through the floors and walls, until you both were in your common room. he sat you down on the couch in front of the fire to dry up again.

❀ "thank you tom.." you whispered after a while as you two sat there next to each other in silence. his presence alone comforting enough.

❀ that night was the start of your friendship. you sat next to each other at breakfast and dinner, in class, went studying together, visited hogsmead on the weekends. that night was the start of a very long friendship and the start of a very deep bond.

taglist | masterlist

tags: @supernaturaldawning @belle-blue @cardibre91 @rriddlexx @aussiehufflepuff @aegonsslxt @helendeath @theblogformydeluluself @juliet-017 @lilith28zero @delacourdarling

xoxo sarah <3

[mistress-riddle]

cw. none, just fluffy content with mother!reader and father!tom. masterlist.

the sound of soft patter coming from tiny feet hitting the floor causes a small smile to lift at the corners of your lips and you wait patiently for your little darling to approach you from your spot on the couch, coffee clasped between both hands as you appreciated the warmth it offered you in the chilly morning.

"mama!" the giggle coming from your two year old causes your grin to widen once she's at the foot of the couch looking up at you with the cutest smile of her own.

"good morning, sugar" you place the mug down on the table in front of you in favour of opening your arms for valeria to jump into. she does so, nuzzling her face into your chest "goo' mornin, mama'" the last letters of her greeting forgone in her soft whisper.

"did you sleep well?" you ask her, pulling her up and sitting her properly on your lap to fix her wavy hair that was falling into her face, somewhat similar to her father in the mornings.

"mhmm" her giggles continue once you place a kiss on the tip of her nose.

"wonderful!" you murmur with affection "why don't we go brush your teeth and then say 'good morning' to dada, okay?"

she beams in response and almost yells "okay" in your face, her excitement to see her father who was currently cooped up in his office, dealing with work since 5 am, palpable. you playfully pinch your nose and swat the air in front of you which elicits more laughter from your daughter.

"come now, we should deal with that dangerous morning breath immediately." you pick her up and head to the bathroom, placing her on the step stool so she can somewhat see her face in the mirror.

"brush time!" you sing song and she excitedly grabs her pink toothbrush designed for children and waits for you to squirt a tiny bit of toothpaste for her.

you watch as she follows the motions you instruct her to do every morning and night with a proud smile on your face and you make sure to remind her to not swallow any of the fruity-minty foam. once she says she's done, you quickly inspect her mouth and take care to gently brush the teeth at the back before encouraging her to spit out the toothpaste. shortly after, you brush her hair back and style two pigtails, adding her favourite accessories which she picked out with enthusiasm "this one, mama!". you then washed her face and dried it off, making sure to get rid of any "eye boogies" which clung to her long lashes.

"t'ank you!" she says once you're done and places a kiss on your cheek which causes your eyes to tear up. your daughter is an angel.

she hops off the stool by using your hand to support her and in a rush hurries to her father's office giggling, making sure to knock 3 times. she hears the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and footsteps approach the door, with a click, it opened and she cranes her neck to look at her father.

"oh, good morning, princess." he greets once he notices that you're too far away to have knocked, and opting to look down to follow your gaze, and sees his adorable daughter.

"good morning, papa!" she mimics his serious expression and tone that he usually dons. it only took a couple of seconds for her exterior to change into a similar wide, teeth-baring smile she gifted you earlier and raised her arms out "uppies."

tom's face breaks into a small smile and he bends low to pick his daughter up to place a kiss on her cheek before throwing her gently into the air and catching her, he repeated it a few more times as he walked over to his desk. he took a seat and sat valeria on his lap as well and let her play with his fingers.

"aww," you voice in disappointment once you enter his office and pout exactly as your daughter was keen to do "mummy wanted uppies too..."

tom rolls his eyes at you, but you notice a begrudging smirk on his face "don't you have work today?"

you groan in response "don't remind me, i want to stay with my baby."

"don't exclude valeria like that, you're a terrible mother."

you deadpan at him meanwhile valeria turns to look at you with a pout and glassy eyes, probably trained by her father to weaponise it on command "very funny, riddle." you join them at the desk and kneel to give your sweet daughter a hug.

"mummy's going to work sweetheart, i love you, be good to daddy and don't miss me too much okay?" at the sight of her lip wobbling, you attacked her with kisses and tickled her sides to get her to giggle which effectively distracted her.

with a huff you got up and crouched to be at level with tom's face "and to my other baby apparently, make sure she's fed and bathed by five pm, okay?"

"yes ma'am" he lazily drawls out, valeria had shifted in his lap so that she's standing (his arm held her up so that she wasn't tiring herself) and hugging his neck, head resting on his shoulder. you took the chance to quickly kiss him before standing up straight.

"bye, my loves!"

"say bye to mummy, valeria" tom picks valeria's arm up to wave at you from the door as you send them a kiss and with her hand, the two catch your kiss.

[birdofwildness]

☾Forbidden walk

Warnings::age gap,professor x student

☾Tom Riddle

Summary::there are rumors about you and your professor

Professor Tom Riddle had a way of making the abstract feel tangible, as if the very essence of magic itself pulsed through his veins, waiting to be unraveled and reshaped. Defense Against the Dark Arts wasn’t just words on a page in his classroom—it was alive, shifting like a living creature, demanding to be wrestled with, understood, and ultimately conquered. Every lesson felt like a battle, not just against unseen enemies but against ignorance itself, and under his sharp gaze, failure was never an option.

I had spent countless hours listening to him dissect difficult spells with surgical precision, breaking them down into their fundamental elements before reconstructing them in ways I had never imagined possible. He spoke of magic as if it were an extension of his will, something to be mastered completely, and his confidence was intoxicating. But more than that, I had spent countless hours just watching him. The way his mind worked fascinated me—sharp, relentless, always searching for deeper truths. He didn’t just teach; he commanded, his presence filling the room with an authority that was impossible to ignore.

There was a quiet intensity to him, something that made every word he spoke feel significant, as though he were revealing secrets the world wasn’t meant to hear. And perhaps, in a way, he was. He had a vision, a belief that magic was not just a tool but a force to be shaped by those strong enough to wield it. And I found myself drawn to that vision, unable to look away, unable to resist the pull of his mind, his power, and the undeniable certainty that he was destined for something greater than all of us.

A man who looked into the darkest parts of humanity and tried to make sense of them, as if dissecting the very nature of fear, power, and control. He didn’t just teach us to defend against the darkness—he studied it, understood it in a way that was almost unsettling. There was no hesitation in the way he spoke about curses, no fear when he described the mechanics of magic that most would shy away from. It was as if he had peered into the abyss and found it lacking, as if he had wrestled with shadows and emerged unscathed.

If he noticed my curiosity, he never acknowledged it outright. But I often wondered if he saw something familiar in me, a reflection of the same hunger for knowledge that burned behind his own eyes. I was drawn to him, to the way his mind worked, to the way he made even the most terrifying aspects of magic seem like puzzles waiting to be solved. And yet, he never indulged my fascination, never encouraged it with knowing glances or quiet words of approval. Instead, he remained distant, enigmatic, as if daring me to uncover the answers myself.

"Curiosity," he once told me, "is the foundation of intellect. But it’s also the first step toward obsession."

I should have taken that as a warning.

At the time, his words felt like an invitation rather than a caution. I had always been curious, always eager to understand things that others shied away from. And he—Professor Tom Riddle—was the embodiment of knowledge wrapped in an enigma. He never flinched from the things that made others uneasy, never looked away from the truth, no matter how unsettling it was.

After class, I often lingered. There was something about the quiet that settled over the empty classroom, something about the way he remained at his desk, always lost in thought, that made it impossible for me to simply leave. Sometimes, if the air was light, he would humor me with a chess match. He played with the same calculated precision that he applied to everything—every move deliberate, every trap set three turns ahead. I never won, but I never minded losing.

Other times, he would tell stories—not the kind found in textbooks, polished and stripped of their edges, but the kind pulled from the real world, raw and unsettling. Cases that still lingered in the recesses of his mind. Cases that involved Dark magic. He spoke of them not with fear, but with fascination, analyzing the choices that led a witch or wizard down that particular path, as though each one was a puzzle to be solved.

I listened, captivated, knowing that these were not just stories. They were glimpses into something deeper, something he understood in a way few others did. And though I never said it aloud, I often wondered if he saw himself in those stories—or if, perhaps, he was daring me to see myself in them too.

But today, there were no stories. Just a silence heavy with something unsaid. The usual rhythm of me lingering had shifted, the air between us thick with an unspoken tension. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows over his desk, over the sharp angles of his face as he worked, quill scratching against parchment in measured strokes.

"You’re staring," he remarked without looking up from his papers. His tone was neutral, but there was an edge to it—curiosity, maybe, or mild irritation.

"You’re interesting to look at," I replied, unapologetic. I didn’t bother to soften the words, nor did I feel the need to look away.

That made him glance up, his expression unreadable. For a moment, there was nothing—just the steady weight of his gaze holding mine. Then, a flicker of something crossed his face. Amusement, perhaps. Or something darker. The corner of his mouth twitched, but whether it was the beginning of a smirk or something else entirely,I couldn’t tell.

"Flattery," he said finally, setting his quill aside, "is a poor mask for curiosity."

"And yet, you don’t seem to mind," i countered.

A pause. Then, just the ghost of a smile. "No," he admitted. "I don’t."

"There’s a rumor," he said, his fingers lingering on the parchment as if weighing his next words carefully.

My pulse kicked up, my body betraying me before I could even think to control it. "Alright?" I asked, keeping my voice neutral, though the sudden shift in the air between us was impossible to ignore.

"That we’re involved."

The words landed between us, deceptively simple, yet heavy with implication. They shouldn’t have affected me. They shouldn’t have made my breath hitch, shouldn’t have sent an uncomfortable heat crawling up my neck, shouldn’t have made me hyper-aware of the space between us—or the way his eyes flickered, just briefly, to catch my reaction. But they did.

I forced a scoff, shaking my head. "That’s ridiculous."

"Is it?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, studying me with that same unreadable expression he always wore when something truly interested him. There was no amusement in his voice, no mockery—just quiet curiosity, a challenge woven into the single syllable.

I swallowed, suddenly unsure of what, exactly, we were talking about. The rumor? Or something else entirely?

"Of course it is," I said, a touch too quickly.

For a moment, he said nothing, only watching me in that unnerving way of his, as if he were peeling back the layers of my words to search for something truer underneath. Then, after a long pause, he leaned back slightly in his chair, his lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smirk.

"Interesting," he murmured.

I wasn’t sure what, exactly, he found so interesting. But I had the distinct feeling that, whatever game he was playing, I had just taken my first move—whether I meant to or not.

His gaze was steady, calculating. I had always admired that about him—his ability to see past words, past intentions, to the truth of things, to read between the lines with chilling accuracy. But now, under that same scrutiny, I wasn’t sure I liked it. There was something different in his eyes, something sharper, as if the mask he wore had cracked just enough to reveal the cold logic beneath.

I shifted slightly, uncomfortable under his gaze, trying to steady my breath.

"What do you think about it?" I asked, tilting my head slightly, forcing myself to meet his eyes. I wasn’t sure if I was asking about the rumor, or something deeper, something I hadn’t fully confronted yet.

He exhaled sharply, the sound almost imperceptible, but it carried weight. Removing his glasses, he set them down on the desk, his fingers lingering for a moment on the frames before he met my gaze again, eyes now sharp and unfiltered. "I believe perception is dangerous. And I believe we’ve been careless."

The weight of his words settled between us, a heavy silence that seemed to stretch, suffocating the air. He was right. He always had a way of being right, even when I didn’t want him to be. I had never crossed a line, not overtly, but I had walked dangerously close to it. The way I sought him out, lingering after class, the way he never quite turned me away—never pushed me back or told me to leave. He could have, easily, but he hadn’t.

And now, standing at the edge of that line, I could feel the tension in the room, the pull between curiosity and something else. Something that made my pulse quicken every time he looked at me like that. Something that neither of us had ever acknowledged aloud, but both of us had known all along.

"You want me to stay away," I said, quieter now, the words leaving my mouth with more weight than I intended. The air between us felt thick, heavier than it had before, as if we had crossed some invisible threshold.

"I want you to be careful," he corrected softly, his voice gentle, but firm—a quiet command wrapped in concern.

The words did something to me, unraveling something carefully contained, something I had pushed to the back of my mind every time I lingered after class, every time I sought him out with a question, a glance, a hesitation. It was as if he had pulled the string that held it all together, and now, the tension inside me was fraying, unspooling in a way I couldn’t control.

I stepped closer, drawn by something unspoken between us, something that neither of us had dared address until now. And for once, he didn’t step back. His gaze held mine, steady but unreadable, and I wondered, just for a moment, if he, too, felt the same pull.

His fingers brushed against mine—light, fleeting, enough to make me wonder if it was intentional. A simple touch, one that could have been an accident, but the way his hand lingered just long enough made me question everything.

"We are no better than the rumors," I murmured, the words slipping out before I could stop them, the truth of it tasting bitter in my mouth.

"No," he agreed, his voice barely above a whisper, the admission heavier than I expected. "We aren’t. I don’t want us to be."

Neither of us moved away. Neither of us spoke, as if the space between us had become something sacred, something we both knew had been crossed and yet were unwilling to step back from.

As the silence stretched between us, the air thick with the weight of our unspoken words, something shifted. There was no more hiding, no more pretending that the space between us could remain so wide. My breath caught in my chest, my pulse thumping loudly in my ears as I found myself leaning closer, drawn to him in a way that felt inevitable, as if we had both been waiting for this moment, without knowing it.

He didn’t pull away. His eyes flickered to my lips, then back to my eyes, a silent question hanging in the air. And in that instant, I knew—knew that we had both crossed that line we had been dancing around for so long. The gap between us closed, and before I could second-guess myself, before I could analyze it to death, I reached out, closing the distance entirely.

His lips were warm and firm against mine, tentative at first, but there was no mistaking the hunger beneath it. A soft sigh escaped me as his hand found my wrist, pulling me closer, and in that moment, everything else disappeared. There was only him, only the feeling of his mouth moving against mine, slow and deliberate, as if testing the waters of something neither of us had fully embraced before.

I was lost in the sensation—the heat of it, the need that had been simmering under the surface for so long. His lips deepened the kiss, a flicker of urgency creeping into the way he held me, his fingers brushing my jaw. It was as though, in this one kiss, we were both acknowledging something we could no longer deny, something that neither of us had the words for but understood all too well.

When we finally pulled away, both of us breathless, I could see the truth in his eyes—he didn’t regret it. Neither did I.

[rxsilabeth--er]

What about Tom Riddle, who just lingers in corners and watchea through shadows and reader who likes to sneak up on him?

:)

Hello? Yes, thank you for the request! More of a drabble now, I suppose, but it's still so cute!! Okay bye-bye!!

Tom dating someone like you, says a bit about his fucked up life. Okay, leaving that, I'm just imagining him standing there in the dark reading a book and out of nowhere a little squirrel climbs up on him making him scream like a girl and fall over while Abraxas tries to stifle his laughter because it's you...you.

He gets constant heart attacks from you because he never knows where you're going to sneak up and jump on him from,

but he adores your nonetheless, even though he got his first white hair at 11. And it only got worse from his first meeting with you.

I imagine you both met when he was sitting in a train compartment, and you popped out of a bag and sat down like nothing was wrong.

, and he was ready to jab his wand in your eye?? Because wtf?? Huh??? Poor boy was so scared and confused, his inner voldy died in that moment for a good few hours.

He is now equipped with her safety hazards which are his hands so he catches you when he can, which is half of the times you sneak up on him, poor thing is scared to death by it.

He cannot count how many white hair he finds a day after you sneak up on him... He's gonna turn 50 by the time he's out of hogwarts, poor thing..Don't get me started on the way you hide in shadows

Imagine him freaking out because he saw your beady eyes staring at him while he's working with his basilisk..

© rxsilabeth--er.Reblogging is appreciated, but plagiarizing or copying my works is forbidden, thank you for reading and if you like this check out my blog!

[lushaletta]

love and its lethal consequences / tom riddle

pairing: tom riddle x fem!reader

content: muggleborn!reader, dark!tom, mild swearing, violence

summary: tom grapples between his dark desires and his unlikely affection for you. it’s deadly.

a/n: part 3 to this lil series :> pls lmk if u guys r enjoying so far!! idk how long i want this to be but we shall see where it goes

read the other parts here: one two four

⋆ ࣪.  ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖࣪ ˖࣪ ∗

Tom has decided. And once Tom decides something, nothing will get in his way.

You are to be his.

The murder would be the easiest part of all. Twice, now, he’s done it. First with that disgusting, grumbling Myrtle and second with his nasty father he can’t even be bothered to think about.

Third time is always the charm. He has it all figured out.

“Tommy!” you beam, following the daily routine. You slide over a treacle tart. “You liked these ones last time.”

He accepts the dessert wordlessly. He’s too deep in thought. You grin.

A few more moments of silence pass and you begin to be irritated by the lack of noise. You have to fill the air up somehow. “Have I told you about Murph yet?”

He’s almost sickened by the name itself. So much so that he can’t stomach the lovely tart your mother has made for him. You’re on a nickname basis now? “You have not.”

You haven’t told him anything about this boy, but he already knows everything. He won’t have to worry about this foul beast for much longer, so he’ll tolerate the giddiness in your eyes for now.

“We’ve just gone on a date. I think it went well, you know? He’s sweet. Opens the door for me, matches pace. That type of thing.”

Tom could do that too if that’s what you really wanted. “How wonderful,” he deadpans.

You’d be a fool not to notice the way his eye twitched when you said the word “date” or the poorly hidden sarcasm he laced in his speech.

“I think our next one is this Wednesday,” you continue.

He’s absolutely fucking repulsed. If he didn’t know any better, he’d march on over to that moron’s room and take care of it himself. But there’s a plan, procedure to be followed. And Tom is nothing if not methodical.

“I can’t believe it! The both of us have dates this week. What even are our lives now?” Camilla cheers, leaning back in her seat.

“I don’t think Tom is very happy about mine.”

She raises a brow. “That’s because Murphy isn’t pure. I’m telling you, Riddle’s lot is psychotic.”

“Okay, I’m not a fan of them either, but Tom knows I’m not pure. He’s been perfectly pleasant.”

“He hardly speaks!” she retorts.

You roll your eyes and urge her to continue reading her book. She complies. Camilla’s never been very argumentative.

As she settles in the pages, all entranced by the words, you lean back in your chair. It is a strange twist of fate that you’re now friends with Tom, but despite Camilla’s warnings, you can’t get yourself to leave. It’s a comfortable trap.

“Hello,” Tom says from behind you as you swing your feet on the railings.

You don’t skip a beat. “Hi!”

Tom knows by now that he can’t surprise you.

The echoing chambers of Hogwarts are bathed in soft moonlight, and no one else is around. Tom is usually by himself at this time. You only steal each other’s afternoons.

“You know,” you muse, breaking the comfortable quiet that settled between you. “You’re very important to me.”

Tom clears his throat. He’s never really been important to anyone. He swallows. “Likewise.”

He’s avoiding your gaze. You think it’s cute. His lips quirk into a faint smile, a rare glint of amusement dancing in his dark eyes, but it’s gone as soon as it comes.

Suddenly, you study his face, trying to unravel the mysteries hidden within. He’s more withdrawn recently. Even quieter, if that’s possible. You suppose it has something to do with Murph but you never can be too sure when it comes to him.

“You’re staring,” he says.

“I like the view.” He sighs.

Tom is not a good person. Far from it. Your friend realises it but you don’t. You’re a glimmer of hope in the darkness that threatens to consume him, that’s already consumed him. You’re both refuge from his despair and a constant reminder. He finds solace in your company and he hates it but now he has no choice. He can’t bring himself to kill you. He knows he never will and so it has to be this way.

It will hurt you, undoubtedly. It will make him more terrible than he already is.

Time is creeping up on him. You’re growing closer with that wretched Ravenclaw and the longer he waits, the more you will be affected.

“Murphy Atthill.”

He turns around at the call of his name and can’t help but feel uneasy. Tom’s presence tends to do that. “Riddle? What can I do for you?” he asks politely. He isn’t very good at masking his anxiety.

Tom casts the Killing Curse and he feels the unmistakable split of his soul as he recites haunting Latin incantations. He knows there’s no going back.

A chilling sense of finality looms over him and yet it weighs light on his conscience. All for the better, this is. In fact, it’s a twisted sense of satisfaction that he feels knowing that the deed is done. He knows he’s crossed a line with you from which there is no return,

But Murphy’s eyes lifeless are much prettier that way.

taglist for this series!! @mariamyousef702 @enidths @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @girlogies @unwrittenletter @helalokithor @lisv1n

[nottsamor]

blood sucking creature — tom riddle

summary : tom cares for you, and he expresses it wonderfully.

tom riddle x vampire!reader, follows the stereotype of vampires being pale asf and having long dark hair.

tom riddle knew there was something special about you. no, it wasn't just the fact you looked other wordly beautiful, enough to gravitate his attention towards you. but, that was already an achievement, as tom found it far too foolish to associate himself in such manners. but, he couldn't resist you. no matter what.

your long dark cascading hair flowing along your back, your almost ghostly white skin—enough to make a man wonder how pale someone could be. or, was it your sharp canines? tom noticed everything about you, he analysed you deeply since the start. to him, you were a mystery he had to uncover.

and in the end, he did. he found out your big secret. in the dark night sky, the moon's light reflecting against the lake's surface, he found you. injecting your teeth in a random gryffindor's neck, holding him as if he was your only source of living, sucking him dry of all the blood he possessed. leaving him there, passed out.

you see, tom found two secrets that night—the first, why the med wing frequently had visitors with bite marks in their neck, and second of all, your secret. about how, you were a blood sucking monster.

but tom wasn't afraid. no, far from it. he found himself attracted to you, and soon enough, you two formed a friendship. and, slowly, you didn't exactly know how—but something called a relationship blossomed between the two of you.

he was cold at times, of course. he was hiding numerous secrets from you, you knew that. but you already knew about the chamber of secrets, or him being the heir of Slytherin as you had helped him uncover that factor.

but today, you were in pain.

your mind felt dizzy, you felt cranky and snappy. you were hungry. incredibly hungry. but, you had no blood stock left. and you could not seduce any man out into the forest to drain him of his blood, as dippet and dumbledore were getting suspicious of all the slytherins, and specifically, you. with the rise of students getting admitted in the med wing with bite marks, he had enforced strict rules in the school. and strict curfew, no one was seen in the beautiful halls in the night.

and so, you were in tom's dorm room. and these were one of the rare moments you two shared physical touch, as the both of you were sat on his bed, him against the headboard as you were in his lap, tears prickling in your eyes as your arms wrapped around his neck, nuzzling your head in his neck.

"It hurts so bad, I'm so hungry." your voice cracked, nuzzling yourself deeper into tom's touch. he sighed, rubbing your back in a way that provided comfort. he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, speaking quietly. your vampire senses were particularly sensitive at the moment, and any loud noise could trigger you. hence why, he decided to speak quietly. "i know, darling, i know."

when suddenly, he got an idea. he pulled away slightly, looking into your eyes. "suck on my blood." your eyes immediately widened, "are you crazy? that's gonna seriously drain you! plus, im not gonna suck on your blood, you're my boyfriend!" you exclaimed, as if the idea was simply blasphemous.

"id be a worser boyfriend if i simply stayed put and watched you in suffering. and, im not such a fragile being that i would be drained, my love. im offering you my blood, i cannot watch your writhe in pain." he brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear.

you frowned, biting your lip, still not convinced. "but.." you got cut off, tom's index finger pressed against your finger lightly, which forbade you from arguing. you sighed, the pain was increasing by the minute, and seeing his pretty neck on display, getting his permission to even suck on his blood, was getting to you.

"f—fine. this is a one time thing, alright?" you gulped, tom nodding in satisfaction that you accepted. he tilted his head to the side, exposing more of his neck to you. you directed a gaze at his neck, then into his eyes which still stared at you in something you would call... perhaps fondness.

and then, you attacked. your sharp teeth bit into the side of his neck, greedily sucking onto his sweet red blood. tom did not even show even the slightest sign of pain, he only brushed through your dark hair, seeming unbothered.

a few moments passed, and you finally pulled away. there was the very noticeable bite mark, covered with dry blood. you looked into his eyes, mouth slightly covered in blood. and even in that moment he did not find you ugly, he found you quite beautiful in fact.

your fingers lightly traced over the mark on his neck, "you know that stays right?" you said quietly. tom merely shrugged, "i will have to find ways to re pay the favour." he looked into your eyes. and in that moment, you knew. you wouldn't be anywhere else then here. in his arms, where he made sure you were protected, and did not feel any harm.

[bandsofmarv]

Requested

Slytherin men react to your love confession -

Mattheo Riddle

Mattheo freezes, the usual smirk slipping from his face. For the first time, you see vulnerability in his dark eyes. He steps closer, brushing a strand of hair from your face as his voice softens.

“You love me?” he murmurs, as if he’s trying to convince himself it’s real. When you nod, his lips curl into a mischievous smile, but there’s a flicker of genuine relief. “Good. Because I’ve been yours from the start. I just didn’t know how to say it without sounding like a bloody fool.”

————————-————————-———————-

Theodore Nott

Theo’s expression is unreadable, his icy exterior making you second-guess yourself. He doesn’t say a word at first, instead tilting his head, his piercing gaze locking onto yours. Then, just when you’re about to panic, he pulls you into a slow, tender kiss.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. “But if you’ll have me… I’ll never let you go.”

————————-————————-———————-

Draco Malfoy

Draco stares at you, his silver eyes widening slightly before he quickly schools his features into indifference. “Love?” he repeats, almost scoffing. But the slight crack in his voice gives him away.

You start to pull back, but he grabs your wrist, his grip firm but not harsh. “Don’t… don’t take it back,” he says quietly, his walls crumbling just enough for you to see the fear underneath. “I’m not good at this, but I… I care about you too.”

————————-————————-———————-

Blaise Zabini

Blaise raises an eyebrow, his usual calm demeanor unshaken. “Love, huh?” he says, his voice smooth and teasing. “You’re either incredibly brave or incredibly reckless.” But the soft smile that tugs at his lips betrays his true feelings.

He steps closer, cupping your face gently. “Lucky for you, I’m hopeless when it comes to you. I love you too, you reckless thing.”

————————-————————-———————-

Tom Riddle

Tom’s reaction is chillingly calm. He tilts his head, his sharp features calculating as if dissecting your words. “You love me,” he repeats, his voice devoid of emotion.

You feel your heart sink, but then his lips curl into a faint, almost cruel smile. “Foolish,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “But I suppose I’ll allow it… as long as you’re prepared for the consequences.” His hand brushes your cheek, a dangerous promise lingering in his touch.

————————-————————-———————-

Enzo Berkshire

Enzo’s face lights up, his usual cheeky grin spreading wider as if he’s just been told the best joke in the world. “You love me?” he asks, his tone almost incredulous.

When you nod, he lets out a short laugh and pulls you into a bear hug, lifting you off the ground. “That’s bloody brilliant,” he says, his voice warm and genuine. Setting you back down, he looks into your eyes, a rare moment of seriousness shining through. “I love you too, you know. Always have.”

————————-————————-———————-

Regulus Black

Regulus stiffens, his usual stoic mask slipping for just a moment to reveal the shock behind his eyes. “You… love me?” he asks quietly, almost as if he doesn’t believe it.

When you confirm it, his gaze drops, and he takes a deep breath. “I don’t know if I deserve that,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. But then, his hand reaches for yours, tentative yet steady. “But I’ll try… for you. I love you too. I just need time to figure out how to show it.”

[greenlighted]

so let me slip inside

tonight you are mine // the technicolors

❛ don't be so naive, you know that you are all that i see (so, tonight you are mine) ❜

AO3 WC: 100

“are you going to fuck me or not?” “say please,” harry mumbled into tom's neck in between kisses. “stop teasing me,” tom said, the words coming out in soft pants. “i will, darling, don't worry,” harry promised, rasing his head from tom's neck to look into his eyes, he rocked his hips forward and sank his cock impossibly deeper into tom but otherwise kept completely still. “you just have to say please.” tom stayed stubbornly silent so harry dipped his head back down to kiss and nip at his neck until tom was ready to let go, to lose control.

♡ + ⟳

masterlist

[nauticalparamour]

159. Tomione ?

“Oh, Godric,” Hermione cried, her voice somewhere between a cry and a whisper. Her wand hung limply at her side, her fingers barely holding on. “What have I done?”

Tom came up to stand next to her. He wore a smirk on his perfect face. “I didn’t expect him to fall that way,” he said, cocking his head slightly to look at the prone man on the ground.

“What?” Hermione asked, turning to look at him, completely stricken. “Why aren’t you doing anything? What have I done?” She pressed her hands against her cheeks, trying to ground herself.

“You killed him, my love,” Tom answered proudly. He pressed his hands to her shoulders.

“But. How?” she questioned, feeling like her world was spinning out of control. “How can you be so calm?”

“Oh, I’m not surprised that you murdered him,” Tom said, grabbing her by the jaw so she was forced to look at him. “I always knew you had the darkness inside of you. The spite, the anger, the evil.”

Hermione shook her head furiously, tears in her eyes. “No, I don’t,” she insisted. She was a good witch.

“You just needed a little convincing — a little push, a little nudge — that Dumbledore had wronged you,” he continued as if she hadn’t said anything. She wanted to wipe the smirk off of his face. “You just needed to think that this was your only choice.”

Realizing that this had been Tom’s plan all along made Hermione’s blood run cold. But now Dumbledore lay dead at her feet. Maybe he was her only choice now.

[nottswitch]

hii !! so for the celebration thingy ;

number: 3. character: tom riddle aesthetic (from the wheel) horror academia.

im ok w smut ! :) also have a good day

hey babes! thanks for sending a request, hope you’re having a good whatever time of the day it is for you 🤍 so, at first i wanted to reply and say that it’s me who’s supposed to choose the aesthetic, but i just really wanted to do this one with tom, because it fits so well!! so, your aesthetic is…

— horror academia

(reflects the difficulty and laborious workload of real academia, manifesting in the spooky, grim, dark, and monstrous horror ambience)

» navigation ; masterlist ; tom m.list ; how to request ; 1k celebration

18+ smut

"baby."

tom’s clenched jaw and a small sidelong glare he shoots your way shows that he still very much doesn’t appreciate the pet name. you sigh, and your hands that have been massaging his shoulders move further down his body, over the planes of his chest, making the woolen fabric of his sweater wrinkle under your touch. his body doesn’t relax in the slightest.

"can you please-"

"not tired."

tom’s voice is firm and cold, but you hear the slightest bit of exhaustion there. you know he’s lying; as much as he adores keeping up the facade of being unbreakable, you‘ve known him long enough to see the signs: the shadows under his eyes, barely there, but noticeable under the dreary lighting in his dingy apartment; the way his hand shakes around the quill ever so slightly as he scribbles down some words you don’t understand (and don’t really want to).

you sigh again, somewhat frustrated, because of course he’d never admit to being out of it. slowly, you sink down onto your knees, crawling underneath his desk. he doesn’t even seem to notice, his eyes already in another huge crumbling tome.

your hands travel up his thighs, softly kneading the tense and undoubtedly cramped muscles. that seems to bring him out of his studious daze, and he leans back, looking down at you with a raised eyebrow. you give him a small shrug and tug at the elastic of his cotton pants. he runs his hand over his face, slightly shaking his head.

"not in the mood,” he mutters, but you know he’s lying again. that’s what his hardening cock is telling you, anyway. you shake your head back and still your hand over the bulge that has formed at his front. several long seconds pass before he finally, finally leans against the back of the chair.

you let out a breath of relief and pull his pants down to his knees, met with the sight of his cock springing out against his lower abdomen. kissing up his length, you look up at him through your eyelashes only to see him close his eyes and tilt his head back, his lips parted and letting out short breaths. finally, he relaxes.

your tongue starts swirling around the tip, and you hear a moan from above. it’s quiet and soft, but you know what it means: he’s really, really tired. he barely ever moans, but right now, your tongue seems to be coaxing sounds out of him. feels nice.

when your mouth envelops him completely, tom gasps. when the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, he lets out a ragged breath. his thighs take up the entirety of the narrow chair seat, so his hands hang slack, twitching every time your tongues makes a particularly firm movement. another moan breaks out of him as he spills down your throat, his whole body going limp above you.

"baby-"

"no."

"okay, tom. let’s go to bed? please?"

"not tired."

playlist

❥ you should see me in a crown by billie eilish

❥ so take this night by black lab

❥ shattered by trading yesterday

❥ born to burn by the neighbourhood

[heavenlybodies333]

What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her - T.R. part II

!warnings!minors dni, infidelity, explicit content

part I to this fic

pairing: Tom Riddle x gf!Bellatrix x bsf!you

The Yule Ball should’ve ended when the music stopped—but it didn’t. Not with drinks flowing and the haze of smoke clouding better judgment. You shouldn’t be here—straddling Tom Riddle in his locked dorm, moaning against his mouth while your best friend, his girlfriend, roams the halls looking for him. You knew it was wrong. And yet, here you are—hips rolling, nails digging into his skin—risking everything for the one boy you were never supposed to touch.

The Yule Ball had officially ended hours ago, but the party in the Slytherin common room was only just beginning. The air hung heavy with cigarette smoke, and the sharp bite of alcohol burned down your throat as you tipped back another shot. Laughter rang out around you—wild, reckless—but you barely heard it. Not with Tom sitting across the room, his dark eyes fixed on you like a predator stalking its prey.

You weren’t a saint, not by a long shot, but even you knew that staying any longer was a bad idea.

Yet, you stayed. Because of him.

He was leaning back against the leather sofa, a glass of firewhiskey in hand, and his dark eyes—those damned eyes—never left you. They burned through the room’s haze, setting fire to the space between you. No one else noticed. Why would they? You were just friends. Always had been.

At least, that’s what you wanted them to think.

Bellatrix’s laugh cut through the noise, loud and sharp, as she tipped her head back, her black curls wild over her shoulders. Her hand lingered on Tom’s thigh, fingers curling like she had a right to him. And maybe she did.

After all, she was his girlfriend.

You shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be looking at him like that. Not with Bellatrix there, but you were. And worse—you knew he was looking back.

"I need some air," you muttered to no one in particular, setting your empty glass on the nearest table.

You felt him follow before you even reached the dimly lit corridor leading to the dormitories. His presence was obvious to you, from the way you could feel his eyes burning through you.

And that was all it took.

His mouth was on yours the moment the door shut behind you. Desperation masked by roughness—biting kisses, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as his hands dragged you closer. He tasted like firewhiskey and sin, and when his fingers tangled in your hair, tugging your head back, you let him. You always let him.

"You're such a fucking mess for me," he murmured, lips trailing down the line of your throat.

"You’re an asshole," you hissed, even as your hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.

His laugh was low and cruel. "And yet, here you are."

His dorm was cold, but you didn’t feel it—not when he shoved you onto his bed and pulled your dress up over your hips. His fingers traced the line of your thigh, teasing, before yanking your knickers down and tossing them aside.

You straddled his lap, feeling the hard press of him beneath you as he leaned back against the headboard. "So eager," he mused, dark amusement lacing every word.

"Fuck you," you snapped.

"Oh, I intend to."

He didn’t wait. He never did. His cock stretched you open in one rough thrust, and the burn of it stole the air from your lungs. Your back arched, legs wrapping around his waist as he filled you, deep and unforgiving.

"You’re going to get us caught," you breathed, voice shaking as he set a brutal pace.

His hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back as you bounced on his cock. "You like this," he sneered, thrusting up to meet you. "Like knowing I fuck you while she waits for me."

"Shut up," you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders.

But he was right. You did like it.

A loud knock echoed from the corridor outside his door. Your heart slammed against your ribs as panic jolted through you.

"Tom?" Bellatrix’s voice. Sharp. Suspicious. Just outside.

You froze.

Tom didn’t.

He didn’t stop. If anything, the threat of being caught made him rougher, more relentless, dragging you closer to the edge.

"She’ll find us," you whispered, panic licking at your edges even as your body betrayed you, clenching around him.

"Not if you keep your mouth shut," he murmured, lips brushing your ear. "Can you do that?" You buried your face against his neck, desperate to quiet the moans threatening to spill from your lips.

You should’ve pushed him away. Should’ve gotten off him and fixed your dress. But instead, you stayed—straddling him, his cock buried deep inside you—while your best friend stood on the other side of the door.

The doorknob rattled. Locked.

"Tom, open the door!" Bellatrix demanded, her voice dripping with irritation.

The door rattled again.

"If you’re in there, open the damn door," Bellatrix snapped.

He didn’t answer.

His grip on your waist only tightened, dragging you down harder. "She won’t come in," he said, voice smooth and cold. "And even if she did…" He leaned up, teeth grazing your ear. "Would you stop me?"

You hated him. Hated how well he knew you—how much you wanted him. Even now, with Bellatrix’s shadow looming just outside, you couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to.

"That's what I thought," Tom drawled, his fingers digging bruises into your hips as he fucked up into you.

Finally—finally—the sound of her footsteps faded as Bellatrix moved on, her frustration echoing down the corridor.

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, hard enough to taste blood, as your orgasm crashed through you. You were shaking, body arching beneath him, and still—he didn’t stop.

"Fuck Riddle," you breathed, barely audible.

Shifting you on his lap, movements slowing as he groans against your breasts. His warm cum filling you up as he swirls his tongue around your aroused nipples, biting lightly as you shiver in response.

Tom leaned against your ear. "Next time," he murmured, a cruel smile curling against your skin, "I won’t lock it."

And well—if you were being honest—that only thrilled you more.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

a/n: another write I owe to @shyamanuensis for this brilliant idea🫦 xx my girl knows how to inspire🤞🤞

[rafesslxt]

✧.* 𝑻𝑶𝑴 𝑹𝑰𝑫𝑫𝑳𝑬 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵

[ aftercare ] ― If you two are in a relationship he would kinda worship you – like I don‘t see him being in a relationship with just "some" girl so when he settles for one she is THE one – so he would clean you up after sex and make sure you‘re ok and have everything you need

[ body part ] ― I see him with a smaller girl (not weight but height) and he kinda loves that you just reach up to his chest or shoulders and he can look down at your titties from above HAHHAHAH

[ cum ] ― Tom would come so fast when he has you under control somehow and you submitting to it completly moaning his name and do as he says - seeing his cum dripping out of you is a big ego boost

[ desires ] ― he wouldn‘t show but it turns him on when you act like a brat and talk back so he knows he has a reason to punish you

[ experience ] ― he would have experience here and there but not too much since he‘s more laid back and I think many girls would he more afraid of him or not like that cold side of his

[ first time ] ― his first time would likely be all about him and his needs - expect if he‘s with his girlfriend and she‘s a virgin too

[ grooming ] ― i see him completly shaved can‘t explain why tho

[ horny ] ― his sex drive is high but not as high or important to him like the rest of the slytherin boys - he would try to hide it a little to not seem too weak or out of his control

[ intimacy ] ― he‘s not the biggest romantic but if he really loves you he would try here and there "don‘t dare to tell this anyone."

[ joker ] ―bro idk what u say but he‘s 100% not joking during sex and If you would you would get a strange look from him

[ kinks ] ― omg literally everything that has to do with control - breeding kink, controlling your mind while having sex, tying you up to the bed or your hands behind your back while pounding into you from behind. He loves choking you, punishing you, teasing you, slight pain kink, orgasm denial on you, edging you

[ locations ] ― he‘s not a pda type so he prefers to do it in the bedroom where you are safe from anyone seeing you naked

[ masturbation ] ― he doesn‘t do it that often only if he‘s single and the pressure get‘s too much or he can‘t think straight anymore due his horniness

[ no go ] ― he‘s not into submitting to you

[ oral ] ― Tom would prefer receiving but also give sometimes knowing you love it so he would only do it If you were a very good girl

[ positions ] ― you over every possible furniture with him fucking into you from behind and holding your hands back. He would love If there is a mirror in front of you two so you could see him fucking and controlling you.

[ quickies ] ― he would to them here and there but not often cause he enjoys taking his time with you.

[ rounds ] ― his stanima would be good but not as good as the once from the boys who do quidditch. He‘s not that active so I think 2 rounds and then a little break

[ secrets ] ― i think he secretly loves your teasing in public and your dirty whispers into his ear even tho he says he hates it since it‘s not appropriate

[ toys ] ― he doesn‘t use them neither on you or himself and if he ever catches you with one you‘re in for a loooong night

[ underwear ] ― his favorite color on you is green especially when you‘re from another house and "betray" your color

[ volume ] ― he‘s not too vocal, just a few groans and grunts when you squeeze around him or come on his cock - you on the other hand are vocal and he loves it to hear you moan his name and beg him

[ watch ] ― he would NEVER want to watch someone other have sex with you and also not you touching yourself. If he ever catched you doing that he would punish you

[ xxx ] ― he wouldn‘t watch porn and I think he would find it weird

[ yearning ] ― he would lure them in with his charming and good talking skills so he wouldn‘t even have to do much he just has to find one who isnt scared or shy

[ zzz ] ― not too tired but also not full of energy. He would read a few pages to you before he falls asleep after you

[ you don‘t have to agree this is the way I see Tom, you can have another opinion and still be right ]

thanks for reading & supporting 🤍 my masterlist and taglist

xoxo sarah <3