#tom riddle omega

[almmoon006]

Omega!Voldemort x alpha!reader

Tw: adult content, nsfw, knotting, omegaverse (about this. here reader can be as female as male, in my au females have cocks as well, but it appears after the arousing)

•••

The cold feeling of the glass touched your lips, in stark contrast to the searing heat in your throat after several sips of amber whiskey. You leaned back in your chair, feeling your body slowly relax.

You spent every evening in this room, which had been thoroughly explored for a long time. Dark curtains tightly covered the windows, preventing a single ray of moonlight from entering. There were burning candles around the perimeter of the room, casting chaotic shadows on the gray walls, like dancing lights. The entire bedroom was decorated in painfully muted and dark tones, even the carpet next to the large double bed had a faded marsh shade.

Voldemort, or, as he sometimes allowed you to call himself, Marvolo, was sitting in the armchair across from you, one pale leg swinging impressively over the other. To be honest, this sickly pale aristocratic skin perfectly emphasized his dark, sharp eyes and unruly dark curls, so soft in appearance. The man was wearing only a loose-fitting green silk robe that fell softly over his pointed shoulders. Otherwise, he was naked. He always walked like that in front of you. He was testing your nerve. He laughed inwardly, watching you devour him with your eyes. And he'd be lying if he said he didn't like it. Tom liked your attention, your looks, your touches, and your short phrases. He liked how protective you could be during missions or meetings, and how coldly you looked at the rest of the Death Eaters during meetings. But he would never admit it to you. It's too embarrassing, too much.. omega like.

The neat mouth with a particularly plump lower lip deliberately slowly covered the edge of the wine glass, taking a leisurely sip. He was teasing you. Tom always drank only wine, in exceptional cases, for example, at meetings and balls, it was champagne or, for that matter, some kind of light cocktail. But he had never drunk anything stronger. He couldn't afford to lose control. And he didn't like the bitter fortress either. A mild, well-aged wine is much better.

After taking a small sip, the man stuck out his pink tongue, circling his wet lips, and licked a couple of drops of the red liquid from the corner of his lips, immediately grinning.

He put the glass on a small table next to his chair and came up to you with a soft gait. You just obediently spread your legs a little wider. Tom climbed onto your lap, placing his neat cold palms on your broad shoulders, and gently squeezed the collar of your shirt.

If he was usually practically naked, leaving no place for imagination, and you still wore your casual clothes. Always clean, but soaked in your scent. After your stormy meetings, Tom always took your clothes to his nest while you weren't looking, and he told the house elf to bring a new one for you.

Today it was a simple shirt with the sleeves already slightly rolled up and simple trousers. Tom didn't like the belts on you. It always made the undressing process more difficult, and he didn't like to wait long for what he wanted.

The man carefully undid a few buttons on your shirt and nuzzled your neck, inhaling his favorite scent with pleasure.

"Caress me," he whispered softly but firmly, burying one hand in your hair.

You didn't dare protest.

Placing the glass of whiskey on the table to the right, you put your big hands on his delicate waist, squeezing and pulling the man closer. A short sigh escaped his throat, and he gently bit your shoulder. You began to slowly touch this beloved body, caress it and shower it with love. When you untied the belt of his robe, Tom let out a soft whimper and allowed you to remove the unnecessary item of clothing. A short growl escaped from your throat as soon as you saw that perfect body. Your hands slowly slid over the sharp shoulders, over the plump lower part of the tummy, over the protruding hip bones and swellings on the thighs, finally possessively squeezing the plump buttocks. You had to be sure that there would be a trace. That for a couple more days after that, Tom will feel a slight pain while sitting on a chair in his office and will remember you and your strong touch.

You gently squeezed the plump flesh again, slightly pushing the buttocks apart and penetrating his small hole with two fingers. They entered surprisingly easily. Damn, this boy had already stretched himself out before you arrived. Tom obediently responded to your touch, starting to slowly impale himself on your fingers with quiet moans. He was so wet. His juices have already started to soak the fabric of your trousers on your thigh.

The air in the room became denser, now abundantly saturated with his sweet pheromones. It was as if he wanted to saturate you with his scent with his whole being, to mark you with pheromones so that no other omega could approach you. And there were many of them. The thought of that made Tom bite his plump lower lip and grip your shoulders harder, leaving reddish crescent marks on your skin. You were his. Only his. No other omega had a right to you. You were his alpha. His true mate.

You slowly added a third finger, and then a fourth, your fingers were completely wet from his natural lubricant, so you were sure you wouldn't need any more. With a slight squelch, you pulled your fingers out of his hole and wiped the excess liquid on your own trousers. Tom let out a whimper of displeasure, looking up at you with his dark eyes the color of aged whiskey with a few drops of tears standing out in the corners of his eyes. You gave him a quick peck on the forehead and grabbed him by the hips. When you reached the bed, you gently lowered the man onto the dark sheets, admiring the painting. Naked, with disheveled hair, swollen lips and red-rimmed eyes from unspoken tears, he looked just perfect. His arms rose above his head in a submissive gesture, and his legs slightly opened, revealing to you a view of his hard cock and crying hole.

You climbed onto the bed between his spread legs and reached for the bedside table. Voldemort gently touched your hand, stopping your action.

"..the collar," he whispered softly, and you nodded curtly. Instead of a muzzle, you took out a beautiful dark green collar with precious stones from the drawer. Returning to your omega, you carefully fastened the jewelry around his fragile neck. His adam's apple bobbed as Tom tried to swallow a moan. He wanted to feel you, your cock inside him, your lips on his body, your touch. He was going into heat in a couple of days, so his inner omega needed an alpha more than ever. Therefore, no muzzle. You have to kiss his body, caress, cherish, and just hold him close.

With a deliberately slow movement, you took off your shirt and unbuttoned the fly of your trousers, pulling them down to your hips along with your underwear just enough to take your cock out. Tom whimpered, looking up at you with a frown on his face, clearly complaining about your slowness.

Pulling out your cock, you made a couple of short movements up and down, smearing the protruding precum. Tom bit his lip, looking at what his inner omega and himself wanted so much. His eyes widened, and his mouth slightly opened, as if he saw his favorite candy in front of him, which he couldn't wait to taste and eat before anyone took it away from him. He wanted to get out of bed and crawl closer, but you gently pushed him in the chest, lowering him back onto the bed. You wanted to please him today.

Settling between those plump thighs, you gently pushed the tip inside his eager hole, pulling out a series of depraved moans from the man. He leaned forward and grabbed your shoulders with his hands, pressing himself as close to you as possible. Quiet whimpers and moans came out of his mouth, and his head instinctively tilted to the side, trying to give you as much access as possible to his flesh between his shoulder and neck. How grateful you are at this moment that he's wearing that damn collar. With all your good self-control, you would not be able to resist the temptation to bind your true mate to yourself.

You buried your nose in his hair, taking a deep breath of his beautiful scent, and picked up the pace. The movements became more and more chaotic. The omega felt your knot inflate and whined, spreading his legs wider, trying to take in the swollen flesh.

You cursed briefly when you felt your fangs pop out. Without thinking twice, you nuzzled the man's closed neck and bit your own wrist, cumming into his wet warmth.

Tom clenched on your cock as the knot slipped inside, instinctively trying to absorb as much semen as possible. His eyes rolled blissfully as he had a powerful orgasm and went limp in your arms.

When the pleasure subsided a little, you gently put omega on the bed and settled down next to him, covering both of you with a blanket. Tom purred in his sleep, snuggling as close to you as possible and nuzzling your chest.

[lumhos]

au where people present once they reach 16 years of age

au where in certain circumstances, bad environments will force the body to present early or present late

au where harry evans presents as an omega at age 14, way before anyone in his year

au where tom riddle presents at 18, way after his yearmates

au where tom is enamored with harry, even before knowing his scent or what his own secondary gender is. how he begs and prays that he presents as an alpha, just for the chance to smell harry’s scent. just for the chance to have a relationship taht is coveted by wizarding culture.

au where tom is so obsessed with harry that he doesn’t notice how the other (older) students in hogwarts recoil from harry. how harry’s smile shows a far too many teeth. how his eyes, so green and fair, seem to tear into your soul. how the shadows follow harry around the cold, stony walls of hogwarts.

au where tom finally does present, an alpha, naturally, and goes to find harry. the moment he steps in the common room, a wall of scents hits him. all overpowered by one. its a deep, threatening smell. one of dark red wine and plums, of moss and dirt. of bone marrow and rot. it is damp and disgusting. it is red and beautiful. it envelops tom’s own scent, one of fire and desire incarnate, and strangles it. tom can’t breathe.

au where tom looks up and sees harry standing before him. smiling his too sharp smile, eyes wide, glowing green with desire (infatuation, even).

au where harry smells like death.

au where tom is the last to find out.

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

When Harry feels his temperature start to rise and the world starts to go a little fuzzy around the edges, he packs up his nesting materials, some clean clothing, and a few books at Hermione’s insistence, lets his friends know to tell Pomfrey, and goes to get a few snacks from the house elves before holing up in the Head Boy’s room. Luckily Tom is there, not having any classes this morning, so after a quick message is sent to confirm he’ll be unable to attend for a few days and a quick change into comfortable clothes, they’re ready.

Theoretically.

“So, uh. What do we do now?”

Tom gives him a look. “Why are you asking me? You’re the omega, this is your heat.”

“We’ve established I am bad at being an omega,” Harry says.

“Well, what is your body telling you to do?” Tom says, mildly exasperated. 

“Erm… Nothing particular, at the moment. But I don’t think the heat has fully started. If it has, I don’t know what other omegas are talking about.”

“You do realise you’re currently piling blankets and my clothing on the bed.”

He is. “Fucking hell.” His nesting urge is out of control. “Well, I guess this is what we’re doing.”

“Do you want me to help?”

“Uh, do you have any other pillows?” Harry asks absently, arranging the blankets and the majority of Tom’s wardrobe according to some unwritten organisational plan. He knows when it feels right, though.

“Harry. We’re wizards,” Tom says. “I may not have more pillows, but I can make them.”

“Then make me three big, fluffy ones.”

Tom does. The pillows are perfect – exactly what he wants. A part of Harry that he’d rather not acknowledge crows about how well he’s chosen his mate.

Once he places the pillows where they’re meant to be, Harry feels a warm satisfaction deep in his bones. He climbs into the nest without conscious thought and rolls around to make everything smell a bit more like him. After that, he goes almost limp with bliss.

Okay, this is a part of being an omega he can get behind. This is awesome.

—

Harry is – dare he say it – cute, sitting half swallowed-up by the heap of fabric and pillows.

“Do you like my nest?” Harry asks him, looking dreamy and somehow shy.

Tom fights the urge to laugh at him. “Yes, Harry, it’s a very good nest.”

And at that remark, Harry’s eyes slip closed and a rumbling sound starts up from his chest. Oh. Oh. He’s purring.

When Tom had read that extremely content omegas might purr, he’d thought it sounded absurd. Now, as he feels his cheeks grow pink, he understands why people try so hard to achieve this. It’s like something he hadn’t realised was tight and knotted in his chest unwinds, and he’s sure his face is doing something foolish, but he can’t bring himself to care right now.

“Come here?” Harry asks, cheeks flushed and pupils visibly blown even through his barely open eyelids.

“Yes,” Tom says. 

He joins Harry on his bed, careful not to disturb the nest’s arrangement lest he be kicked out. As soon as he starts to sit down, Harry begins pulling and prodding him into place. He almost slaps the other boy’s hands away, but Harry must have him situated where he wants, because he stops poking at Tom and looks very pleased with himself.

And then Harry drapes himself over Tom and sticks his face against Tom’s throat, where he knows his scent is strongest. 

If Harry was purring before, Tom’s not sure what this is. It feels like the whole bed is vibrating. Tom feels almost drunk. Surrounded by his clothes and his magic, and with Harry against him, fever-hot, purring up a storm and emitting happy heat pheromones, Tom feels warm and relaxed and it’s wonderful. 

(thrown into the nest)

[blackcider]

Citrus and jasmine.

That's what the boy smelled like.

In all his years, Voldemort had never smelled something so..so intoxicating. Something that made his mouth water like a man in a desert finally finding his oasis.

He leaned down to bury his nostrils in the boy's scent gland. His eyelids fluttered closed as he took in a deep breath. His tongue darting out to lap at the tan, sweat ladden neck of the boy.

His right hand curled around the boys waist while his left raked into his hair, pulling his head to the side so Voldemort had more access to the delicious neck.

His thumb caressed the boy's hip, trying to cajole him into relaxing to his touch.

His teeth bit down on the extended skin, his lips felt the bounding pulse beneath it. He wrapped his lip around it and sucked, trying his hardest to bring the hot blood into his cold body.

The boy shuddered, a delightful moan escaping his lips. His alpha growled in pride, he had made the beautiful omega feel good. He-

"My lord?"

Voldemort's head snapped toward the voice. The voice of his follower, in a tone that was unmistakably utter confusion. He had to shake his head, trying his best to clear his mind of the lust clouding it as his alpha raged at being separated from the soft omega before him.

He took a step back, and then another, creating distance from the being clouding his judgment. He heard panting and a soft whine, and his attention focused back on the lovely creature.

The boy's soft, lovely face was flushed. The bruise upon his neck highlighted by the moonlight. His eyes were half lidded, from undoubtedly happiness from finding such a strong alpha. The boy took a deep breath, opened his eyes more and searched up his alphas body until it landed on Voldemort's face.

The little omega tensed again. His eyes darting between Voldemort and whatever was behind Voldemort.

He stared as the omega looked back into his eyes with unbridled defiance. His alpha purred in happiness.

He stared as the boy called for his wand and ran.

He stared as the boy grabbed a body and the trophy, effectively escaping his alpha. But it was fine.

The boy is an omega.

Harry Potter is an omega.

Harry Potter is his omega.

[eris-eveningstar]

Hey moots what's your fave writer flex? Just something you wanna brag about.

Mine is that I've successfully made people enjoy my fic even tho they don't usually read a/b/o. Like genuinely, multiple commenters have told me they don't often read it, but I've convinced them.

[thegildedvalkyrie]

yall i feel like writing sm

go ahead and submit requests i’m bored asf

[delineate-creates]

Day 15: Dagger

But even with the cuts, he can’t stop himself from touching his knife every time he lies down. Even during the day, he reaches inside his pocket, where it’s secure in a sheathe, and touches the hilt. It’s reassuring to feel it there.

It’s a gift, he thinks. A courting gift. If it was only for practicality, Voldemort wouldn’t have bothered to carve such a nice hilt.

•

From chapter 2 of @metalomagnetic’s Prison Blues

[theoshiper]

So, I'm currently writing a Harrymort story, omegaverse, Voldemort Wins, royalty-themed. Voldemort is the emperor, though there is still a hidden resistance. Snape is a spy, as is Harry, who has just entered Voldemort's court.

And of course Harry is an omega and V a alpha

I hesitate with add a soul mate trope too

[riverxsong-ao3]

The Betrayal (And Boon) of One's Own Biology

(Written as part of a Tom's Birthday fest for @yumeurl )

Tom was a Beta.

He knew this had to be true, because here he was in his seventies, and despite the fact that he didn’t look a day over twenty-five, he had yet to present as either an Alpha or Omega. It frustrated him, knowing that his secondary gender was so common, so bland. He had been so sure in his teens that he was destined to be an Alpha, to be something special, a symbol of power. But when his teen years left him behind he started to worry. There was still time, but when the years passed and he felt no physical changes, he knew his fate was sealed. Then he hit twenty-five, stopped aging thanks to his Horcruxes keeping him from anything that might kill him, and fell into a slump.

What was the point of it all if he wasn’t special? What was the point of his Knights, of his immortality? Of all his plans and schemes and tricks? What was the point of Voldemort? With this thought, the one that kept coming up, he quietly and unofficially disbanded the Knights of Walpurgis by scheduling their meetings more and more infrequently, until they weren’t really meeting at all. He settled in to the idea of an eternity of mediocrity, and though it stung, he worked diligently at his job at Borgin and Burkes, managed to nick a cup belonging to Helga Hufflepuff and, more importantly, the locket that was his heritage from an old, lecherous lady. He thought occasionally about leaving the country after this, but he had rent to pay and still needed to eat, despite that starvation could not kill him. So he worked, and he ate, and he slept, until one day he was informed that the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was open once more.

So he bundled himself up and travelled to the castle, met with Dippet, and walked out a few hours later with a new job. Dippet, who’d denied him before, was more than happy to hire a man nearing his thirties, and no less a man who had gotten perfect N.E.W.T.s.

And so now here he was, at the end of the twentieth century, tenured in his position as Defense Professor, working under Dumbledore of all people, and he had very little to show for his original plans. It was at least something to know that he was influencing the next generation, identifying those students who showed an affinity for the Dark Arts and encouraging them to explore their talents.

But still. He was a Beta. A nobody.

He shook the thoughts away, the thoughts that all too regularly plagued him. He had time. He had, quite literally, all the time in the world. It was simply a matter of waiting and watching for the right opportunity. Dumbledore was aging, and the years were catching up with him. He would leave his post soon, and Tom would prop himself up as the ideal candidate to take the Headmaster’s seat. Or he would take the Ministry in a coup; word on the streets was that civil unrest was beginning to crop up in the wake of new laws being passed to elevate Muggle-born witches and wizards, thereby unsettling the careful balance of power that currently existed. Tom would bide his time and take advantage of this.

For now, though, he was grading papers.

[violettavonviolet]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Lucius Malfoy & Tom Riddle Characters: Harry Potter, Tom Riddle, Lucius Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger Additional Tags: Humor, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Harry Potter, Alpha Tom Riddle, Alpha Lucius Malfoy, Size Kink, Teen Crush, Jealousy, Jealous Tom Riddle, Young Tom Riddle, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle Attend Hogwarts Together, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Romance, Hogwarts Prefect Tom Riddle, Hogwarts Prefect Harry Potter Summary:

Lucius stared at him. “You are…not…courting Potter?

“No? Why would you, or anyone, assume that?“

 Granger, over from the Gryffindor bench shot him a deathly glare, and jumped up,

 “How dare you play with his emotions like that!“ She said, before emptying her glass of pumpkin juice over his head.

 Tom stared after her, puzzled and wet.

--

in which Tom is oblivious and jealous, but mostly oblivious

[almmoon006]

Omega Voldemort

• Tom grew up without knowing love, so any kind of love is alien to him, he did not look at himself through the prism of alpha or omega. He was interested to learn about such a feature of the magical world, but he was not thrilled. The possibility of obeying or subjugating, but at the same time being dependent on his mate, did not suit him.

• Still, Tom considered himself an alpha, or at least a beta, which is preferable. Up to the age of 15, all students look approximately the same, but after joining the "legacy of wizards" they change depending on the secondary gender.

• What was Tom's surprise when he turned out to be an omega.

• Tom hated omegas. They were weak, pathetic, and whiny, constantly demanding their partner's presence and wanting to be looked after and cared for. Tom wasn't like that. He wanted power, might, and strength. He just couldn't be an omega.

• Gradually, his body began to change. He began to look more frail, although he was still almost the tallest in his class. The muscles became less noticeable (not that Tom took the time to train, he was more of a smart man), and there was more distinct fat on his stomach and thighs. Although in general it did not spoil his figure, rather, on the contrary, it complemented him in a sense. Now his angelic face was accompanied by an equally beautiful body.

• The only one who knew about his secondary gender was the headmaster. Teachers and other students considered the boy a beta, or even a late blooming alpha.

• The scent helped too. Tom's pheromones were rather unremarkable, the scent of rain with a slight hint of some wildflowers and mint. It has a rather calm and neutral smell. In addition, Tom actively used suppressants and scent blockers, so this was not a particular problem.

• He later found out about horcruxes. These things could not only preserve the soul, which amounted to almost immortality, but could also change the secondary gender, as far as Tom understood. It was a great prospect. He didn't get carried away searching for the true mate, as other omegas did, he didn't build nests, he didn't dream of pups. He wanted power, revenge on his parents, and a change in his "fragile nature."

• The name Tom was changed to Voldemort. It sounded much more beautiful, scarier, and more majestic. Or it just helped to forget about his fragile real soul.

• After the first two horcruxes, Tom really felt better, stronger. Or so it seemed to him. His smell has almost completely disappeared, and his estrus has become less regular and less painful. He stopped instinctively feeling desire towards alphas. His inner omega seemed to be weakening. After the third and fourth horcruxes, Tom grew noticeably and gained some muscles, which beautifully combined with his sharp aristocratic features. After the fifth horcrux, the heat stopped completely, as did any sexual desire. On the sixth cross, the inner omega finally fell silent.

• The prophecy haunted Voldemort. The boy. Many of his supporters, the Death Eaters, thought it was a waste of time. But Voldemort didn't think so. The boy could become a big hindrance to his powerful future, so it was definitely worth removing him. Why didn't he send one of his subordinates? Voldemort doesn't know. Lately, he was increasingly surprised by his own decisions. It was as if his mind was shutting down and someone else was here instead. He had bouts of "madness", and his own thoughts and magic did not obey. It was as if he had lost his mind. But that's okay, it's just temporary. He don't care if it scares his subordinates, to hell with it. The main thing is to make sure that everything goes according to plan.

• On that fateful night, he took one of his subordinates, an alpha, with him so that he could control the situation outside and, if necessary, prevent the members of the Order of the Phoenix from interfering with the man's plans. But everything went completely wrong. In a fit of hatred or this very madness, Voldemort behaved too recklessly, allowing himself to be defeated.

• He's spent too much time in this shallow body. He had to rely on his damn servants, who followed his every whim without question. He was a fucking baby! He screamed, needed attention, and cried all the time! It is good that he has retained at least the remnants of his mind and former power. And this alpha. They were always there. It was as if they were sorry that they hadn't protected their master that fateful night. Wormtail tried his best to humour Voldemort, but Voldemort was much more comfortable with the alpha. The devil knows why. Perhaps this child's body simply recognized the "parent" or someone else. The alpha's scent was too soothing. Fire, citrus and light tobacco smoke that settled on clothes after another cigarette. It was strangely comforting.

• In the cemetery, alpha had already presented his flesh to the dark Lord, which Wormtail was displeased with. Merlin, how omega already wanted to kill that bastard. When the rebirth was finally completed, the alpha extended his hand, rough and greasy, to the pale man, helping him out of the cauldron. Voldemort was now even further removed from his original self. The alpha threw a tunic and cloak over his body, protecting his pale skin from the cool grave wind. The clothes smelled like alpha. It was a strangely pleasant feeling.

• Getting back up to speed turned out to be some hard labor. Omega had to read countless newspapers, listen to many reports and fill out a lot of documents. And oh, Merlin, it was so exhausting.

• The new strange thirst didn't help either. Voldemort wanted to spend more and more time with the alpha. Their scent seemed more attractive, more affectionate and gentle. Strange notes of carnation and bergamot appeared, pleasantly caressing the sensitive snake-like nose.

• Strange thoughts began to appear more and more often inside, and his own reflection was now absolutely not happy. For some reason, he rarely began to miss his old appearance. And the awakened inner omega began to whimper that the alpha would definitely not love them in this form. Alpha. At the thought of this,the thin pale hand reached for his own neck. Where the mating glands once were, there is now only a small bump, barely noticeable with the fingers. Soul separation and resurrection had damaged his glands. This caused the inner omega to despair. Voldemort couldn't help but cry, curled up on the big bed in his own bedroom at the Manor. Damn, he'd never cried since his days at the orphanage. So why now..?

• Had to postpone attempts to gain power in Magical Britain and start returning horcruxes to satisfy the desire of the inner self. Voldemort spent about two months on this, and those months were a living hell.

• Now the man stood in front of the mirror and caressed his own face with his hands, admiring the beauty and freshness of a young body. He looked to be in his late twenties now, compact and handsome. The inner omega purred with happiness, because now their true mate will see them from the other side and love them, perhaps even give them pups!

• ...

• WHAT? PUPS? Tom, without realizing it, slapped himself on the cheek. A bright red mark instantly appeared on the pale skin. What kind of vile thoughts appeared in his head? Nagini hissed softly, sliding off the bed and wrapping herself around her master's legs, feeling anxious. He needed to pull himself together. This is definitely some kind of nonsense.

• That evening, Voldemort, or Tom, summoned the ill-fated alpha. They entered the office with obvious concern, looking at their master. And, oh God, that look made the puzzle inside Tom come together.

[lumhos]

continuing off of my other post vv

https://www.tumblr.com/spitxxx/772251374684700672/au-where-people-present-once-they-reach-16-years

brief recap: harry is an unsettling omega who presented way before any of his peers. tom is an extremely late bloomer but has always been interested in harry, even wo knowing his smell. when tom finally presents as an alpha and is able to smell harry, he now understands why people avoid the other. he reeks of death.

in which tom and harry overturn traditional courting customs

cw// animal death

tom’s biggest fear is and always will be death. the idea that everything he’s ever lived for will one day come to a halt once he breathes his final breath is terrifying.

harry has been tom’s greatest wish from the moment he met the other.

harry’s scent is.. alarming. quite frankly, it’s extremely disturbing. its heavy and damp. it lingers on fabric and never fully goes away. it doesn’t exactly help that harry avoids using scent patches. “a waste of money when my scent will leak through anyway”, he claims.

maybe this is why tom starts to feel wary around harry. why he stiffens up when harry gets too close to tom’s unmarked neck. his scent gland, ready to be bitten. or why he began to walk quickly out of class rather than waiting for harry to pack up (he never had anything out in the first place.)

unfortunately, tom didn’t realize that harry loved the chase.

traditional courting customs say that the more dominant gender within the relationship must be the one to court the other. over the span of seven months, they must gift the other seven different gifts. if at any moment, the courted wishes to reject the courter, they must send all of the gifts back.

needless to say, tom was not expecting a black box with a deep green bow to land in front of him during supper. he couldn’t see what had dropped the package off, moving quickly in a blur of black shadow.

looking at the high quality of the velvet bow, tom felt a sense of curiosity fill him. he could feel the eyes of his yearmates watching him, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. the box emanated an odd energy, almost like it was something he shouldn’t be opening in the great hall.

like pandora, tom untied the bow and lifted the lid of the box.

his eyes widened once he realized what it was. the dead body of a white rabbit. its little neck was bent at an impossible angle, dried blood coating its fur. its eyes were glazed over, like the animal was still alive, only under a charm.

tom could feel his face pale when he understood what this gift referenced. back when he had maimed and gifted (secretly) poor little billy his beloved pet rabbit, days after he had thrown tom’s things out of the window.

he remembered how the other boy sobbed, fat tears streaming down his face. tom wanted to billy to cry more, for him to look exactly like how his rabbit did. tom wanted to be the one to do it. it was only cruel fate that billy would be adopted a week later.

tom was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he didn’t register the gasps around him.

“my lord, is that…” malfoy trailed off, suddenly becoming speechless (for once)

“circe above, what could this mean?!” black asked, already assuming that tom was being threatened. tom barely had a chance to respond when a noise came from the box.

the rabbit slowly got out of the box. leaving a trail behind it, it walked across the table. silence grew on the slytherin table when the rabbit walked by. gasps and gags erupted, everyone’s eyes glued to the limping corpse.

by the time the rabbit reached the very end of the table, professor slughorn had noticed the body approaching with great alarm. however, when he got up, wand ready, the rabbit seized. with a disgusting gurgle, the rabbit exploded in a boom of guts, blood, and shards of bone. a flash of red flew above the heads of the great hall, drifting with the draft of hogwarts.

the great hall echoed with screams, crowds of students jumping from their tables and pushing one another out the door. the carnage painted the slytherin table in a sheen of crimson. slughorn, who had fainted from the close proximity of the explosion, was covered in rabbit intestines.

it was unnatural, the amount of matter that erupted from the rabbit’s small body. the amount of blood was far too great as well.

slytherin stayed glued to their seats. shock and fear keeping them frozen in place. tom’s hands couldn’t stop shaking. he felt light headed in a way that no calming draught could fix.

in his turmoil, he hadn’t noticed the blur of red approaching him. it was only with a gentle (trembling) nudge from black, that he looked up.

a red envelope landed gently in front of him.

the entirety of slytherin watched as tom riddle, slowly, cautiously, opened the letter. (so shocked that he never considered that whoever sent that package had evil intent.)

“to my dearest tom m. riddle, i send this gift to you as my formal proposal of courting. you have failed to bore me, your presence always welcome. your eyes that shine with an inhuman red glow mesmerise me. your intelligence and thirst for power light a fire within me. i hope you enjoy the gifts that will come your way. i know that i will take immense pleasure in creating them.”

despite the lack of signature, tom knew immediately who had sent the proposal. silently, tom looked forward, past the frozen faces of the slytherins around him.

there sat one harry evans. that same sharp smile wide spread wide across his face. eyes that beamed with something sinister yet soft.

tom could blankly register now the smell of death that hugged him. rot that seeped out of the stone walls of hogwarts. a dampness that snapped the other inhabitants out of their daze, forcing them up out of their seats and out of the great hall. tom wondered distantly when the professors had left the hall, if anyone besides he and harry ever entered.

tom’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth. the air was tense and thick, their scents mixing together to create a truly heavy smell. tom watched as harry gracefully got out of his seat and walked towards tom.

tom watched as harry placed a slim finger (with sharp nails) under his chin and used his thumb to press on tom’s lip. his nail pierced through, blood beading out of the small cut on tom’s lip.

tom watched as harry smiled as he leaned forward, giving tom a gentle, hardly there, kiss.

tom watched as harry pulled back, only inches away from his face. that smile back on his face, only with a small smudge of blood coating harry’s bottom lip.

tom watched as harry’s tongue licked the blood away, the way harry’s scent strummed in delight.

tom listened to harry whisper against his lips, something soft and barely audible, before leaving tom alone in the great hall.

harry evans had just spoken parseltongue.

tom riddle was fucked.

[l-archiduchesse]

When journalists ask Harry how is Tom in the privacy of their home, how someone as sweet as him can match with someone as cold and hard as Tom, Harry usually doesn't answer and go on with his life. But the few times he actually answers, he tells them Tom is all soft and lovey and warm. And nobody believe him.

Harry doesn't care if they don't believe him because he knows it's the truth. He has no doubt about it as he sits in the middle of the stairs in their new house. Tom talks about things Harry doesn't care about but he still listens because he loves him, his voice, his passionate tone and his soft smile when he looks at his mate. They just came back from a gala and they have to get ready to go to bed, even if the first sunrays of the day pour down the stairs and warm their shoulders. But Harry is stuck there, listening to Tom and he feels warm and loved. So he stays, even if he is tired.

I really like this drawing, even though there is some problem of proportion, mainly on Tom. I noticed them a bit late so I kind of carried on with it since I was almost finished by the time... I still like a lot the atmosphere, how Tom looks at Harry, how they look cosy and intimate. So I thought to share. Hope you like it !

L'archiduchesse

[hp-shippy-prompts]

Prompt:

Soulmate/omegaverse au

Years ago, when Tom was still at Hogwarts, he had an Omega boyfriend. Only, Harry didn’t agree with Tom’s ambitions to rend and rebuild the wizarding world. Harry gave him an ultimatum, but Tom chose his plans over Harry.

A decade later, Tom has achieved his goals, and goes searching for Harry, partly so he can say, ‘I told you so’, but mostly because Harry was the only Omega, the only person, Tom had ever cared about other than himself.

Only, when he finds Harry, Harry has lost most of his magic, all of his scent, and no longer goes through the heats Tom had only had a handful of opportunities to enjoy. The only reason for this to have happened is if Harry found his soulmate and lost them.

This leaves Tom both devastated and furious. While he knew in theory Harry might find someone in his absence, it was another thing to have it confirmed. And whomever it was cost Tom the Omega he loved wanted.

Never does he consider that he was the Alpha Harry lost, that he hadn’t recognised Harry as his Soulmate like Harry had recognised him, because he’d split his soul before his secondary gender had presented.

Is it too late for Tom to repair his soul and win Harry back?

[eris-eveningstar]

omg this fucking fic just broke my heart. That last plot twist...poor Harry. 😭 I hate Regulus so much in this fic for what he did. I can genuinely never recover. My heart is broken. Harry and Tom were done so dirty by circumstances and misunderstandings that finally finally managed to get resolved. But some bridges have already been burned.... (you'll see what I mean by the end)

The fic is so good but in one of those heart-wrenching ways yk? Harry deserves all the love in the world.

Read it here

[tomioneforever]

The grayscale version. My coloring is so lame that I decided to gray it all.

And it surprises me every time how a single flip of your drawing can alter how you perceive it.

Now Hermione seems to be backed in a corner and has no way to escape 😂

Which one do you like better?