#Dark Lord Voldemort

[capriddle]

Poor Lucius😂😂😂

[sherbet-powder]

happy (belated) birthday, lord voldemort!!

(I spent so many hours slaving away for this I swear)

[iamnmbr3]

[handledwithgloves]

harry potter pov:

[wookiecookiesfactory]

Oh child merope, My sheila, my sheila😔

[juniorlore]

tom riddle was left handed and got exorcised for it at wools

tom riddle was at least somewhat neurodivergent and was never understood for it

tom riddle never knew love in his life, not once, but he did know lust, that (at least) was something he could understand and use to his advantage

tom riddle with his little cockney accent and foul language before he trained it out of himself

tom riddle who had the primal urge to survive so much so that he created horcruxes

tom riddle who had to suffer through the blitz in a london orphanage with no magic, wondering if he would end up an unnamed number

tom riddle whos first introduction to magic is having all of his meagre possessions burned

tom riddle who never really could fly from death

[deadghosy]

⊹˖✧°⋅

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲!𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐗 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

Sugar daddy!Tom who would take you to fancy dinners.

Sugar daddy!Tom who pay for everything. He’s your sugar daddy, and you’re his baby.

Sugar daddy!Tom who does show off his expensive ice watch when some other bloke tries to impress you.

Sugar daddy!Tom who could definitely buy out a shop for you if you asked.

Sugar daddy!Tom who just hands you his black card. Don’t worry baby, he’s got himself and you all covered.

Sugar daddy!Tom who would paid for all your hair & nail appointments. You name it, he’s got it paid in an instant.

Sugar daddy!Tom bringing you to his business trips. He has to spoil his baby that’s always by his side.

He could possibly buy the world for you. Hell, he spoils you rotten.

He’s buying you Prada, Chanel, any brand you like. Just tell him and he’s buying it for you.

The cold type of sugar daddy that makes you beg for him to buy you something. He loves when you beg.

The type of sugar daddy to help put on your heels or any shoes on your feet.

When it’s your birthday, it’s never plain at the least. He’s always surprising you every time.

Your wardrobe is decked out in any outfits of fashion. Say thank you to him.

He always has reservations at the fanciest restaurants ever.

Buys your most expensive shit ever so you can flex how both have a good future husband.

[oi-what-the-fuck]

Slytherin as chaotic academia

running late for the train

messy notes (no color coding just black pen with green notes on the sides)

candles and loose pages on the desk

chugging butterbear

shopping at borgin and burkes on school trips

no all nighter just straight up sleeping for 12 hours

eating in class (you didn't make it for breakfast bc who tf wakes up at 7am to get ready)

slughorn and flitwick fan for life

dates in the forbidden forest with your lover

excelling in DADA and potions (but nearly failing muggle studies)

falling asleep on the astronomy tower

howlers

sneaking into restricted section

making bets on who gets the highest grade (and winning, there's no such thing as too many galleons)

rearranging your dorm decor at 1am

duelling for fun

(pics from pinterest, credits to owners)

[theoshiper]

I made a No Glory edit 🧎🥹( @obsidianpen )

[darkmarkmarauder]

What she doesn't know won't hurt her - T.R.

!warning!minors dni, infidelity, mature content

pairing: Tom Riddle x you

summary: you swore it would never happen again—betraying your best friend for the boy you had first. But every time Tom Riddle touches you, you lose yourself. It's wrong, twisted, and bound to destroy everything—but you can't stop. And neither can he.

The first time it happened, you swore it would be the last. You had told yourself—over and over—that it couldn’t happen again, that you wouldn’t let it. For Bellatrix. For your friendship. For your own sanity.

And yet, here you were. Back against the silk sheets of Tom Riddle's bed, his hand around your throat, and your legs spread open for him like you were made for this—made for him.

He wasn’t kind. Not in this. Not with you. But you didn’t want him to be.

You bit down on your lower lip to stifle the moan threatening to break free as he thrust into you, the stretch of him almost too much to take. Almost. His fingers flexed slightly against the sides of your neck, and the pressure had your head spinning, blood rushing in your ears.

"Look at you," Tom murmured, his voice a low rasp in the dim light of his prefect quarters. "So fucking desperate for me. I wonder what Bella would think if she saw you like this."

You flinched at the mention of her name, guilt curling in your stomach like a snake. Bella—your best friend. Bella—his girlfriend.

"Don't," you hissed through clenched teeth, nails digging into his forearms as he pinned you beneath him.

Tom only laughed. A soft, cruel sound. "Why not? You weren’t thinking about her when you begged me to fuck you last night." He tilted his head, a smirk curling at the corners of his mouth. "Or the night before that. Or the night before that."

"I hate you," you spat, even as your hips lifted to meet his next thrust.

"No, you don't," he said, leaning down until his lips brushed against your ear. "You should. But you don't."

And he was right. You should hate him. This was wrong. You knew that. But knowing it didn’t stop you from wanting him. From coming back to him again and again, no matter how many times you told yourself you wouldn’t.

He wasn’t always like this. There was a time when things were simpler. When Tom was just your best friend, the quiet, brooding boy you had pulled out of his shell during your first year at Hogwarts. You had sat beside him at the Slytherin table, uninvited and undeterred by the glare he shot you.

"You don't talk much, do you?" you had said, tearing a piece of bread from the loaf in front of you. "That's okay. I can talk enough for the both of us."

And you had. About magical creatures and herbology, your favorite subjects. He never seemed bored or annoyed. He listened. Really listened. And somewhere along the way, listening became friendship. And friendship became something else. Something more.

You had him first. Long before Bellatrix. Before anyone.

His pace was merciless, each thrust forcing the air from your lungs. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, mixing with your ragged breathing and the faint crackle of the fireplace in the corner. It was obscene—the way he took you, the way you let him—but neither of you were stopping.

"You think about this when you're with her?" you bit out, the words sharp even as your body arched beneath him.

His lips curled into a cruel smile. "You think I don’t?"

Bastard.

But then again—what did that make you?

Tom's grip on your waist tightened, his nails biting into your skin as he drove into you harder. "You should see yourself," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "My dirty slut.”

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, barely stopping the moan that tore from your throat. Shame burned at the edges of your thoughts, but it wasn’t enough—not enough to stop you from meeting each of his brutal thrusts, from chasing the high he always seemed to pull from you.

"th-this is the last time," you lied, tilting your head back as he bit down on the curve of your neck.

Bella loved you like a sister. And yet, none of that stopped you from spreading your legs for her boyfriend—your best friend—the one person you should have stayed away from.

Tom didn’t care. He never had. And that was the worst part, wasn’t it? That you were the one who felt guilty. That you were the one who still gave a damn.

You should stop this. You should push him away, gather your clothes, and leave. But instead, your legs tightened around his waist, pulling him deeper—closer. And Tom, ever the opportunist, took exactly what he wanted.

Thrusting faster and harder into you, the sound of your lovemaking getting louder by the second. His focus was singular—the drag of his cock inside you, the way your body clenched around him, the way you couldn’t help but moan when you came.

Tom followed with a low, satisfied groan, his cum spilling inside you as he buried himself into your neck, his movements stalled slowly.

For a moment, there was only the sound of your ragged breathing and the smell of ash from the fire that had been burning.

When he finally pulled out of you, you felt the loss of him like a physical ache. He settled on the bed beside you, one arm draped possessively across your waist.

"this has to stop," you said, the words hollow and meaningless.

He laughed softly, lips grazing your ear. "No, it doesn’t."

And Merlin help you—you knew he was right.

pt II to this fic

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

a/n: inspired by my favorite most darling writer @shyamanuensis there's something about writing infidelity scenes thats so exhilarating eeeee but I wouldn't wish this on anyone guys plz dont think I endorse cheating. istg its just fun to write sometimes😭😭

ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀ ᴄʀᴇᴅ: @ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ !!!check them out

MASTERLIST

[plummarvelous]

death eaters need some help not to die during meetings

part 1

more arts and wips

[liminsendhelp]

Big yawn

[almmoon006]

My baby | 2/...

Plot: You are the Dark Lord's wife, who has an amazing influence on him. Autumn night, Potter family home. The parents are dead, the baby has been abducted. What if Voldemort changed his plans? Will you help him?"

Ps: maybe this child could change your marriage? (Nagini is my babygirl, she loves you since the day you came to this Manor). Also Voldemort looks like Tom, but he has red blood-like eyes. I'll call him Tom more often after he'll be warmer with you and Harry.

With a slight fear and trembling in your rapidly beating heart, you touched the baby's delicate face, gently sliding your fingertips over the warm skin in a soothing gesture. The baby was looking up at you with his mouth slightly open and those innocent green eyes. It was as if there were gears turning in his small head.

Not so long ago, his mother was going to feed him, and now he is already lying in the arms of some woman. But he wasn't afraid. On the contrary, he felt surprisingly light and safe. Harry, which was how big adults usually addressed him, felt warm waves from this strange woman. It was as if the warmth of her body was enveloping his smaller body and caressing him like a warm summer breeze. Her whole presence radiated love and a fierce desire to protect. Harry loved it. She smelled of flowers and warmth, which calmed him down. For some reason, he knew that he was safe in this woman's arms.

You lightly kissed the tender forehead with your lips and pressed the boy to your chest, stroking his back in the hope of lulling him to sleep. It's not like you're good at taking care of children, especially those so young. But the time spent with Draco was making itself felt. At least you had Narcissa, who you could always ask for advice from. You may not have carried this child, but you already felt a certain awe for him, a certain connection.

Voldemort left the main room almost as soon as he handed you the baby. It seemed that he had no feelings for the baby, except for the feeling of receiving benefits from the future wizard. You had ambivalent feelings about it.

You went up to the second floor, passing by your shared master bedroom, and stopped at another, slightly smaller one. Inside, all the things were already in their places and decorated for a new family member, as if this room had been waiting for a boy, its new owner, for a long time. Perhaps the Dark Lord simply copied the contents of Draco's room, changing some details and choosing more inviting interior tones.

The whole room was decorated in shades of green and gray. Thick curtains on the large windows blocked the silvery moonlight from entering the still uninhabited room. The walls were a pale green color, muted and soft to a child's eye. The floors were dark wood, just like the rest of the mansion. There were long candles all over the room, casting a bizarre pattern on the walls. A lot of toys and children's books decorated the shelves made of dark wood. There was a changing table and a rocking chair against the wall. Next to the window was a crib with bright green linens and a blanket.

You walked over to the armchair and sat down gently on it, arranging the baby in the crook of your elbow. The baby was surprisingly calm. You could feel your magic leaving your body and enveloping the boy like a soothing blanket, caressing his own magical core. The boy looked up at you with his big green eyes, closed with fatigue, and with renewed zeal squeezed the fabric of your dress in his tiny fist. There was a feeling that the little man felt the full weight of the day, which suddenly fell on his fragile shoulders after so many events. You gently touched his short, unruly hair, gently stroking it.

There was a soft hiss on the floor, and a gentle smile touched your lips. You felt the weight on your feet as the snake's massive body wrapped around them in tight coils, and its triangular head rested on your hip. With your free hand, you touched the cool skin, caressing the scales, and watched as Nagini looked with interest at the new person in the house.

"Hello, my girl. This is Harry," you said gently. The snake stuck out its tongue for a couple of seconds, tasting the boy's scent and the taste of his magic in the air. Satisfied with the information received, the snake obediently returned its head to your hip, lightly touching the warm baby hand.

"He's cute, isn't he?"

Sometimes you were sad at the thought that you couldn't understand your sweet friend the way your husband does. There was no information on how to understand Parseltongue, unless you were a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin. So you just had to accept it. Voldemort rarely translated the snake's words for you. Although Nagini eventually learned to communicate with you with her body language, which made life much easier.

When the baby finally started to make soft snores, you smiled with relief. Leaning back in your chair, you closed your eyes, feeling sleep coming on.

•••

The man did not think that the next meeting with the Death Eaters would take so long. He has not yet informed anyone that he has sheltered the boy, with the exception of the Malfoy couple and Bellatrix Lestrange with her new husband. Otherwise, he wasn't sure enough to fully involve his own family in the affairs.

When he returned to the manor, he immediately called the house elf and told him to bring a bottle of whiskey and several glasses to his office. The house elf nodded obediently, disappearing with a light pop.

Sighing tensely, the man ran his hand through his own hair, ruffling the unruly strands after a long day.

The house was surprisingly quiet. It's not that you're a noisy person, but usually Voldemort at least hears you talking to Nagini, or even Narcissa, if you decide to invite her again. Now there was nothing.

He went up to the second floor. Approaching the right room, the man raised his eyebrows in surprise, watching the peaceful picture. You were sitting in an armchair with a baby in your arms and you seemed so.. natural. It's like you've always been a mother. There was a slight smile on your lips, and your eyes twitched slightly as you had some kind of troubled dream. The boy settled into your arms like his own mother's, feeling peace and love. But what surprised him the most was Nagini, like a faithful dog guarding the only people close to him.

Sensing the Dark Lord's presence, the snake raised its head towards him, sticking out its long tongue.

"Master," she hissed, releasing your body and crawling towards the man, climbing up his body like a spiral staircase, "A new human. A cub." The Dark Lord chuckled briefly.

His slippery friend always reminded him of the cubs, especially since he got a "female".

"Yes. It's a child."

"Stranger. The scent of another human," Nagini continued, muttering reproachfully.

"This is our enemy's child. I killed them. The child will still be useful to us," he replied, sliding his hand over the snake's scales in a soothing gesture.

"Nagini like it. The female master like it too."

Voldemort didn't answer, returning his gaze to your peacefully sleeping body.

•••

Voldemort was sitting in his office chair, leaning back in his chair and slowly sipping an amber liquid from a faceted glass. The firewhiskey burned softly in his throat, filling with warmth under his ribs.

Your hands gently slid over his broad shoulders, flexing the tense muscles. It happened almost every night after the meeting with the Death Eaters. The man remained too tense and preoccupied with his own anger and thoughts to speak. Then you were just there. It seemed to soothe his emotions.

"You will take over the upbringing of the boy," Voldemort began in a firm voice, "No one except the inner circle will know about him until I finish with the documents and the ritual of joining the family. The boy will be our direct descendant. One way or another, you really will be his real mother."

When he finished, he took another sip of firewhisky, throwing his head back and covering his scarlet eyes. You took it as a sign and gently touched his hair with your fingers, massaging his scalp. A satisfied groan escaped his lips.

"Yes, my Lord."

His feelings were never something warm and romantic. Rather, he perceived you as a very devoted follower, something closer to a friend. He knew how the man-woman relationship you had worked, but he couldn't bring himself to fully accept it. He only followed Walburga's advice by accepting her daughter as a faithful wife. Voldemort has never doubted you and your loyalty. You were born and raised to be faithful to him. Yes, you weren't as submissive as your cousin Narcissa was sometimes. But you weren't too crazy like Bellatrix, either. You were a wise and steadfast woman, able to defend your opinion or give in where necessary. Voldemort was attracted to your firmness and confidence, although he would never admit it. And he liked your warmth. The maternal attitude you showed towards both him and the Death Eaters awakened something in him. How caring and attentive you were, your attention to detail and light hand, always knowing what to say and how to calm down. All this gave him the opportunity to feel the love and care that he did not have either from his mother, or in the orphanage, or at school. And he couldn't get enough of that feeling.

[wookiecookiesfactory]

Thats just how he self regulates

[karinagiada]

Probably can’t fix this one. 🐍

[capriddle]

I'm rereading Half-Blood Prince and I'm like, seriously, reading chapter 2, people can believe that Bellatrix is ​​crazy? I mean, she's clearly one of the most brilliant minds in the Harry Potter universe! She asks Snape such precise and careful questions that I can't understand how they can write her off as a jealous hysteric.