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viperify · 2 months ago

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AU | ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ!ᴛᴏᴍ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

˚.☾⋆✧ Blood Lust.

Short Summary: When you stir awake in the middle of the night, you notice Tom hasn’t come back home. Strange noises downstairs lead you to investigate, but what—or who—will you find as you do?

Warnings: 18+ only! Vampire!Tom, hunter and prey, biting, marking, blood play, nipple play, incredibly feral Tom Riddle, breeding kink, choking, praise, unprotected p in v, implied murder (side character).

A/N: FINALLY it’s out. Thank you so much for your patience, life’s a mess atm. Love you, always <3

wordcount: 3,2k

You wake.

Not by choice, but rather from the sound of a window shutting forcefully somewhere downstairs. You still, holding your breath as you listen intently, however, you are left waiting. All you can hear is complete silence. Silence that feels almost eerie now, in the dark. When you hear nothing suspicious for another minute, your focus shifts.

It must be around midnight, you think, and a quick look at the clock confirms your assumption.

It’s 23:50.

Then you hear it—the wind. You exhale sharply, closing your eyes again. It’s just the wind, you tell yourself. The wind must have shut a window downstairs. And just as you are about to drift off to sleep again—

Your eyes shoot open.

You had checked all the windows before going upstairs.

Your arm searches for something next to you—someone. However, a few taps later, and you realise the bed is cold and empty, sheets in the same place as they were when you went to bed.

He isn’t here.

Or better—he hasn’t come back.

You sigh in defeat, sitting upright on the soft mattress, the silky sheets crumpling under the shift of weight on them. Your palm covers your mouth as you yawn, slipping into your slippers you placed next to the bed. Your legs carry you towards the nearby window, and you rest your hands on the ledge as you glance into the starry night sky, which is clearer than usual today.

In that moment, realisation hits you.

It’s a full moon.

Another loud noise has your body tense involuntarily, tearing you from your thoughts—this time it’s something shattering on the ground, similar to a glass. You walk towards the door, about to turn the key when your arm drops again.

Every fiber in your body tells you no—stay in bed, don’t go and check. Why would you? Tom isn’t home, and if there really was someone, he wouldn’t want you to get yourself in danger. Right?

You shake your head. But there is another voice inside of you, clearer than your own, telling you to check—

So you do.

You turn the key in the lock, pushing the handle down before peering through the gap.

Darkness.

A sense of relief washes over you, and you step outside, a small candle in your left hand lighting your way. The wooden planks creak under your feet, and you stop every few steps to listen—but all that greets you is silence, silence that carries an intimidating undertone.

Even as you walk down the stairs, there is nothing too unusual. The dim glow of your candle does little to illuminate your surroundings, and it really does a better job exposing yourself to any possible intruder than the other way around, but it’s better than nothing. Finally, you reach the lowest level of your shared home, stepping onto the cold marble floor tiles.

Tick-tock.

A shiver runs down your spine as the ticking of the living room clock has you stop momentarily, an eerie tension forming in the air, growing thicker the closer you get to it. You have been wanting to get rid of the clock for a while, telling him how irritating the ticking is, especially when you pass it at night—but he is oddly attached to it.

So you kept it.

With the help of the flickering candlelight, you are able to make out an object on the floor near the living room—your favourite vase—that had dropped and shattered into a hundred small pieces. You sigh softly, crouching down to pick up the pieces, however, soon the inevitable happens—you cut yourself.

A sharp hiss spills over your lips as the porcelain breaks your skin, a drop of blood running down your finger. You curse yourself for not being more careful, looking around to find something you can wrap around the wound.

The emergency kit. In the kitchen.

Standing back up, you make your way, though you don’t get far before your breath catches in your throat and your body freezes in place. A pair of glowing, scarlet eyes advances towards you, their intensity burning through the night’s darkness better than any candle in your possession would.

You shouldn’t be scared. It’s Tom.

However, something about his presence feels different today. The energy he radiates seems stronger, needier. More feral, more unhinged. More dangerous.

Before you know it, he is there, right in front of you.

Though the light of your candle dims when he stands before you, it doesn’t take long for you to take in the state of him. Pupils dilated wide, intently focused on you, his breath coming out in short, ragged huffs. And there is blood. So much blood. The crimson color staining his lips and chin, seeping into the white cotton fabric of his robes. His eyes wander, stopping at the bleeding cut on your finger before they trail back up—slowly.

“Tom?” you whisper, eyebrows drawn together in confusion—and fear.

He doesn’t reply.

Instead, he reaches up to your cheek, brushing over the soft skin ever so lightly, barely even touching you at all. His thumb then wanders under your chin, slowly tilting your head up so you are met with his glowing red eyes. Still, he doesn’t speak—instead, he leans in, his lips meeting yours just to place a singular, feather-light kiss on them. Enough to make you taste what he’s been up to—although you’d rather not think about it. His hand leaves your cheek, grazing over your jaw and throat until he stops at your neck, pulling you in closer.

When his fingers press down on your pulse point softly, feeling your elevated, rushed heartbeat under his touch, a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. Tom’s head dips then, his hot breath skimming over your ear, the tension between the both of you building rapidly. And then, a small, an almost too silent huff leaves his lips—

“Run.”

Now, obviously, this isn’t meant to be a game for you to win. It has never been. With his heightened senses and supernatural strength, you cannot escape him, and you never will. Both of you are aware of that. But the thrill of it all—it is intoxicating for both of you. So whenever he does tell you to run—you are more than happy to obey.

So you take a step back, and his arm drops to his side. One more quick glance at him, how his chest rises and falls in anticipation, how his lips are slightly parted, revealing his sharp fangs—

And then you run, as fast as your legs carry you.

He gives you a head start, knowing you won’t make it far either way. It’s dark, but he doesn’t need light to find you. The smell of your fresh blood in the air is enough for him to locate you, even if you were a mile away. He could distinguish your blood from a thousand others, and God, he would always find you.

After all, you are still his favourite prey.

With that thought, he turns to leave the kitchen, following the soft sound of your heartbeat. He can feel how quick it beats, trying its hardest to supply your body with enough oxygen. The closer he gets to you—now walking up the stairs—the stronger the scent of your blood becomes. The more he craves you.

You shriek quietly as the door to your shared bedroom flies open, your breathing stilling in an attempt to keep him at bay for just a little longer. Though you know it’s over when you hear a low scoff from outside of your closet, the door opening as a strong hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you out.

“Too easy,” he growls, lips crashing onto yours, capturing you in a heated kiss. “Too fucking easy.” Suddenly his hands are all over your body, practically tearing your clothes off your body. The buttons of your blouse pop off the fabric, clattering as they hit the floor, rolling off. You barely have time to complain before you stand bare before him, and his hungry eyes are drinking you in.

Tom takes a step closer, and you squirm slightly as his cold hand softly trails over your delicate skin, pulling you in as he reaches your waist. “Been thinking about you all day. Now you are mine.” He purrs, smirking against your lips before he kisses you again, biting down on your lower lip, drawing a soft gasp from you.

“Who— who was it?” You breathe, gaze lowering to the bloodstains on his clothes, a sly grin forming on his face at your question.

“Remember Knockturn Alley? How his eyes lingered on you?” He answers, trailing kisses along your jaw.

Of course. What else.

You sigh. “Yes, I do.”

“Mhm.” He mumbles, lips back on yours, not giving you the chance to question him further.

Never breaking the kiss, he pushes you backwards until you are sprawled out on the now cool, silky sheets, not wasting another second before he joins you. One hand softly wrapped around your throat, he tilts your head to gain better access to your neck, his ragged breaths hot on your skin as his head dips, greedily trailing kisses along your jugular vein.

Your soft moans only seem to spur him on, sucking marks into your skin, your neck, collarbone, and breasts until you are nothing more than a whining mess beneath him. Only then does he pull back slightly, humming lowly in approval as his glowing eyes wander over the artwork of bruises he’s left behind on your skin.

He savours the way you melt under his touch, so good and pliant for him, anticipation building at the thought of finally tasting you. “Doing so well for me,” he mutters, brushing a strand of hair from your face, before dipping back down to continue his ministrations.

Then, for the first time that night, you feel his fangs on your skin, grazing over your neck ever so lightly—a gentle reminder of what’s to come, of the flaming hunger beneath his composure. Your body twitches at the contact, breath coming out shakily as you cling onto his shoulder, feeling his muscles under your touch.

A smirk creeps onto his face at your reaction, placing an open-mouthed kiss directly onto your pulse point. “So afraid,” he drawls, tilting your head just a tiny bit more, before you feel his pointed teeth again, not yet piercing your skin, but lingering, waiting.

“I am not—“ you try to defend yourself, however, his palm closes over your mouth, cutting you off.

“No more talking back.”

As his instinct takes over, you feel it. The familiar sting of his fangs sinking into the tender flesh of your neck, drawing the first drops of blood with a breathy groan as he tastes you on his tongue, some of it trickling down onto the sheets and your cleavage. A cozy warmth spreads through your body, easing the pain, intensifying the pleasure he is providing you with.

“Tom— oh God—“ you whimper, hands tangling in his brunette locks, softly tugging on his roots as he continues feeding on you, soft sucking noises filling your shared bedroom as he greedily drinks your blood, a tingling sensation spreading through your body.

But before he gets too lost in the ecstasy, he pulls back with a low growl, fangs forcefully retracting from your neck. For a moment he just glances down at you, chest heaving with ragged breaths. “Taste yourself,” he breathes, head dipping down until he’s a mere inch away from your lips. “I want you to taste yourself. How fucking sweet you taste for me.”

He doesn't give you much of a choice, because as soon as you open your mouth to voice your complaint, his lips are on yours, the metallic taste of your own blood flooding your senses. His hand tightens around your throat, cutting off just enough air to leave you dizzy, while the effects of his bite send your mind spiraling. Your knuckles turn white from how hard they are gripping the sheets, your body struggling to process the overwhelming sensations all at once.

But there is something you do notice. Very clearly even.

How painfully hard he is. How he can’t help but grind himself against you.

“T-Tom, please,” you whimper as he slowly pulls back, admiring the mess he’s left on your lips, thumb shakily swiping over them.

“You are ovulating.”

“I know, I—“

He groans. A low, almost desperate sound somewhere from the back of his throat. “Fuck, sweetheart. You know I can’t— fuck— hold back. Not when—“

Merlin help you.

Your hand is on his neck, never breaking eye contact as you pull him closer once more. Shaking your head, you place a kiss on his tensed jaw. “Don’t hold back.”

Another sharp inhale, and his hand is back around your throat, pressing down, not to restrict your airflow, because you can breathe very well—as well as you could breathe under the effect of your vampire’s bite—but rather your blood flow.

“Don’t wish for something you cannot handle,” he warns lowly, but you shake your head again. “God, Tom, please— I need you, just�� take me.”

“Fuck—“

With your mind already blurry as a result of his bite, you only faintly notice the sound of his belt hitting the wooden planks of your floor with a thud, followed by the rest of his clothes. Before you realise it, he slips between your thighs, body pressing flush against yours. His lips wrap around your nipple, gently dragging his sharp teeth over the sensitive bud, drawing a sharp gasp from you at the intense sensation, which sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

It doesn’t take long until you feel him prodding at your soaked entrance, pressing another kiss to your lips before he pushes inside of you with a low groan, and it’s rough, it’s careless, mirroring his burning hunger for you. He doesn’t wait, no, he buries himself to the hilt with one singular, powerful thrust, tip brushing against your sensitive cervix, your brows drawing together at the sudden, sharp yet delicious stretch on your walls. A choked moan rips from your lips, body arching beneath him, which is apparently sign enough for him to pull back slightly, only to thrust back inside harder.

His head dips, breath hot against your neck as he continues sucking and biting marks into your skin before his fangs break through your flesh once more, a low, satisfied hum falling over his lips as he stills his hunger on his favourite human—you.

He soon sets a steady rhythm, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as his tip brushes over your most sensitive spot with every thrust. The flickering candlelight in the otherwise dark room illuminates the sharp features of his face each time he raises his head to take a breath, your blood dripping down his chin over the sides of his neck.

“Can’t get enough of you, fuck—“ he groans, picking up his pace when he hears your soft moans, his fingertips sinking into your waist, hard enough to leave bruises as he pulls you back into his thrusts, stopping your body from moving forwards with every snap of his hips.

Few things in this world can make Tom Riddle lose his self-restraint.

But the way you squeeze him so tight, walls fluttering as you try to accommodate his length, soft whimpers falling over your lips, all while the flavour of your blood has his mind spinning with pure ecstasy—certainly has him on the verge.

Because fuck—you are just so gorgeous, he thinks. Covered in his marks and his only, painting a canvas of his lust on your body, he just needs you to be his, forever. The bite would come, the bite to turn you into a vampire yourself, but for now—he’ll still savour the irreplaceable taste of your blood. Instead, he’ll make you his in other ways.

Tom’s eyes darken at the thought, lips slightly parted, and suddenly he has a desire other than satiating his primal hunger for your blood—he wants, no, needs to fill you—stake his claim on you.

You can practically feel the last bits of restraint he has left fading, messily feeding on you while he buries his cock deep within your walls with every sharp, perfectly angled snap of his hips into yours, deliciously dragging over all the right spots as he pounds into you relentlessly.

“Too much, Tom— please—“ you whimper, just as your consciousness threatens to slip, ears ringing and vision growing cloudy. He is barely able to stop himself in time from draining more of your precious blood, fangs tearing from your skin with a low, guttural groan. He tilts your head then, having you meet his strict, intense gaze. “Not yet, look at me. Fuck— look at me as I fill you up.”

Only with half-lidded eyes do you manage to do so, legs weakly wrapped around him as he takes what he needs, mercilessly slipping in and out of you, his brunette curls sticking to his damp forehead as he chases his release.

“You are going to be good for me and take it,” he pants, thrusts growing more erratic as you feel him twitch inside of you.

“Every.” thrust “Last.” thrust “Drop.” thrust

“Yes— fuck please, Tom.” You gasp, and with a few more sharp snaps of his hips, he spills his release deep inside of you, groaning lowly as he paints your walls with thick, white ropes of his cum.

You too come undone with a weak shudder of your body, your walls fluttering around his length, hands slipping from his shoulders. Pleasure and pain melt into one, stars dancing in front of your eyes as your vision grows blurrier with each passing second.

Tom lets you regain your consciousness, staying situated between your thighs, his cock still buried deep within your walls as he gently laps his tongue against the puncture wounds on your neck, cleaning most of the dried crimson liquid from your skin.

The next thing you remember is his fingertips tenderly massaging shampoo into your scalp, warm water surrounding your sore body as he has you resting against his chest in the bathtub. The scent of fresh rose petals and orchids fills your nostrils with a deep breath of yours. You hum softly, eyes fluttering closed again, letting him take care of you.

A flicker of satisfaction sparks in his eyes as he dries you off in front of a mirror, gently patting the towel over the bite marks and bruises he’s left all over your cleavage.

“So gorgeous, covered in my marks. And all mine.”

“All yours.”

tags: @belladonnaheartsthemoon, @riddlebella, @jo1818

—

thank you for reading! <3 feedback and reblogs are appreciated. 💜

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zvdvdlvr · 2 months ago

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Tom Riddle didn’t know what to do when you didn’t show up to classes for the day. Not only that- but you don’t have the decency to at least tell him that you were not going to attend the classes that you had no problem attending for the past six years.

So he does what any rational person does and shows up at your dorm. It was a privilege to be head girl, and you were more than happy about having your own room- and you had excitedly showed Tom your room the second you had it decorated. And being your… unofficial boyfriend and head boy, Tom supposes it was his duty- to the school- to find out why you were not reporting to classes or handling your responsibilities with the precision and efficiency that Tom had grown fond of.

When you finally opened the door after a full minute of knocking, Tom raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at you. His eyes- critical as usual- sweeped up and down your figure thrice before determining that you hadn’t gotten out of bed at all during the day. “It is past dinner time. What could have possibly deterred your appetite?”

Tom’s attempt at a joke made your jaw set. “I’m ill,” you croaked, going to shut the door.

Tom’s foot wedged between the wood frame and thick door before it could shut with a thud. “You are not ill.” Your cheeks weren’t flushed with fever and your skin didn’t have the mild green tint it usually had when you were sick. “What’s ailing you?”

You sighed and leaned forward a tad- enough to ease the onslaught of cramps that had been terrorizing your body for the past ten hours. “My uterus, Tom. That’s what’s ailing me,” you snipe.

Tom’s eyes narrow. “You’re menstruating? It’s a week early,” he tells you.

Your eyes droop with pain and sleep. “Shut the door when you’re done gawking at my miserable, ailingform,” you request weakly as you turn and limp back to your king sized bed.

It shouldn’t have surprised you that Tom shut the door a minute later. He wasn’t really empathetic and it wasn’t his problem you were curled up in your bed, going in and out of sleep to try to handle the constant waves of pain. But at the same time… you had hoped.

Fickle, fickle hope. You tried not to let tears well up in your eyes at your own disappointment. You cursed yourself and your uterus as you wordlessly charmed your small throw pillow to radiate warmth to place against your stomach.

Tears dripped from your eyes as you tried and, eventually, dozed back off into a dreamless sleep. Your arms were wrapped tightly around the charmed pillow as you clung to the warmth (pathetically wishing it was Tom you were clinging to instead of a damn pillow).

Your door opened just when you were falling into heavy sleep. You groaned and wanted to berate whoever had disturbed your pity party. When you sat up, you ignored the shooting pain in your entire lower body and squinted at-

“Tommy?”

The man grumbled at the nickname. “When have I ever left you by yourself during this time?” He closed the door with his foot because he had things that you couldn’t see in the dark lighting in his hands.

He set a few vials of a shimmering wine red on your abnormally large nightstand- along with an actual bowl of soup, a spoon, a container of chocolate, raspberries, and cherries: your favorite snacks. “Tom…”

Tom uncorked a vial of the swirling potion and handed it to you. “Bottoms up, darling,” he ordered as he warmed the soup up with a wordless spell. When you placed the small vial back in his large hands he handed the bowl to you. “Eat.”

“I’m not-“

“Do not,” Tom interrupted you, “tell me that you are not hungry. If you want to keep that pain killer down, I expect you to eat at least half of that bowl.”

You blinked.

Tom fussed over the state of your room as you ate. He levitated clothes nack into your dresser, blankets in their appropriate places, and tended to the variety of plants you had perched all over your room. Tom almost scoffed- you took better care of the plants then yourself.

“I’m done,” you finally spoke up. Tom turned and strode over to you. “I- Put me down!”

Tom carried you the short distance to the bathroom. “Do what you must, then you’re going to bed.” When you stared owlishly at him, he rolled his eyes. “Why are you so surprised that I’m taking care of what is mine? Go,” he gestured toward the bathroom and gave you the eyes.

Tom carried you back to the bed when you had dried your hands. He slipped under the covers of your bed after you, wrapping a loose arm around your waist. “Get comfortable.”

You placed his hand over the part of your stomach that had been giving you the most pain. His breath fanned your ear and neck as he exhaled slowly. Tom’s lips pressed a featherlight kiss to the side of your neck- so light you questioned if you had imagined it in your tired state. “Good night, Tommy.”

“Sleep well, darling,” he murmured in reply.

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enha-doodles · 1 year ago

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Hey can you do a reaction to Slytherin boys reacting to the reader being a bookworm ?

Thankyou 💗💗

SLYTHERIN GUYS REACTION TO YOU BEING A BOOKWORM | ✧⁺。

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

Note : tysm for the request and i hope you enjoy it hehe 🤭🤭

Warnings : none

Mattheo Riddle

Even though Mattheo thinks reading sessions are about as thrilling as watching paint dry compared to his usual parties, he puts on a brave face for your sake because he loves you so much . He sticks around while you bury your nose in books, though his mind might wander to livelier activities. Despite the occasional yawn, he's willing to endure the quiet moments for his darling , he is a romantic and caring guy afterall

Tho he'll complain and whine all the while you won't pay attention to him and roll his eyes upon your books

Tom Riddle

Tom secretly enjoys the peaceful vibe when you're both lost in your own literary worlds. He won't admit it out loud, but he finds it oddly comforting to share comfortable silences with you, even if he'd rather be plotting world domination. Who knew the Dark Lord had a soft spot for reading?

He'd leave some of his books on your table so you'd read them , he loves seeing you smile while you read something interesting especially of his choice , your reactions making him obsessed fall deeper for you .

Theodore Nott

Theodore scratches his head trying to figure out why you're so obsessed with books, but he's a good sport about it. He might ask you why on earth you spend so much time with your nose buried in pages, but hey, to each their own, right? As long as you're happy, he's cool with it, even if he doesn't get it.

He is someone who is smart without much effort - that is the reason he doesn't understand your affection with books , which also has some people wonder why he's not into ravenclaw but then his Slytherin tendencies prove his loyalty to his house

Lorenzo Berkshire

Lorenzo is like a kid in a candy store when he realizes you both share a love for books. He's all in, racing you to finish books first and gleefully bragging when he beats you to the last page. Who knew reading could be such a competitive sport? But hey, it's all in good fun, right?

He's also a very literature typa guy so he'd have you on his lap while you're cuddled into him and you're both reading the same book . You have many of your dates in the library and none of you seem to mind .

Draco Malfoy

Draco puts up a fuss about your bookworm tendencies, claiming they're not even close to being as exciting as qudditch or poker or any other rich kid shit he has done . But secretly, he's low-key intrigued by what you're reading. He'll grumble about it, of course, but then he'll sneakily ask about the plot or characters, trying to act like he's not interested. Classic Draco, always putting on a show.

He's also very bratty so he'll be annoyed af if he's speaking and you'll tell him to shut up because you're on a good part atm coz sweetheart does he look like he cares ? He does

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　　　。

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riddleswhcre · 2 months ago

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────۶ৎ the red thread of fate

a Tom Riddle soulmate AU

“fate is nothing but an illusion. and i will not be controlled by it.”

soulmate bond: an invisible red thread connects soulmates, only visible under candlelight on valentine’s night.

more au’s

❥

the slytherin common room is hosting some ridiculous valentine’s event, where the enchanted candles are supposed to reveal who you’re “destined” to be with. tom riddle doesn’t believe in destiny. he doesn’t believe in anything he can’t control.

and yet—

when the flames flicker to life, a thin red thread appears, curling tightly around his pinky.

trailing straight to you.

his most infuriating rival. his equal. the one person who dares to challenge him.

he doesn’t move. doesn’t breathe. it has to be a mistake.

but when he tugs the thread—

you feel it.

❥

do you fight fate? or do you let the thread pull you in?

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

fic will be posted on Valentine's Day (14th) thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated.

#𝘮'𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹#riddleswhcre #❥valentine’s day special❥#tom riddle is losing his mind and i love that for him #soulmate au #enemies to lovers #red thread of fate #tom riddle x reader #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle fic #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #slytherin boys #slytherin

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deadghosy · 10 months ago

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The Slytherin boys reacting to you accidentally cutting yourself when cooking

Warning: blood, fluff, swearing

Ft. Tom Riddle, Mattheo Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire.

Tom Riddle

The moment you his at the sizzling burn of your finger bleeding , Tom was towering over you and dragging your finger to the sink.

“My dearest…please refrain from doing the cutting duties. And let me do them for now.” He says kissing your hand with his natural charming face.

You smiled and nodded as he started to cut the onions while you set the stove on.

It was a calming night after all that

Mattheo Riddle

“What happened??” He said after hearing you hiss and have your finger in your mouth

“I cut my finger..” you said pouting as you showed him your finger

“Was that it?”

Ha made fun of you..but he still took care of you 🫶🏾

Draco Malfoy

🤷🏾tbh it would never happen with the maids around cooking for the two of you

But if it did, he’s being a worried man over you. Even if it’s a little cut.

Theodore Nott

“Cara Mia? What happened??” He says holding your hand with a concerned look

“I only cut my finger in accident honey..I’m fine.”

He nodded and warned you to be more careful when cutting things

You nodded and continued cooking along side with him

Lorenzo Berkshire

The minute he saw blood, he told you to quickly wash your finger off as he goes get a bandge

He rushes back in the kitchen putting the bandage on, he was secretly happy that you two agree to have a home med kit just for these cases

Being a worried wort, he told you that he’s cooking for the rest tonight. You frowned trying to tell him that you are able to cook.

But nah, let him do what he wants as he lets you relax in the living room as he cooks the rest

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rafesslxt · 11 months ago

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✧.* 𝑺𝑳𝒀𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑵 𝑩𝑶𝒀𝑺 𝑰𝑵𝑺𝑻𝑨 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵

summary: how your insta chat with each of them would look like

warnings: none, found these on pinterest so credit goes to whoever owns them

Draco:

obviously its Draco so he would buy you anything you want, not just any item but any wishlist

Enzo:

he‘s just the sweetest to me and would literally work his ass off to wife you up and make you happy n‘ shit ��🫶🏻

Blaise:

idk why but i instantly thought of Blaise because he‘s so "let‘s go visit a museum and drink a coffe" to me but with a "and let‘s drive there with our porsche" 🥲

Theodore:

it just SCREAMS Theo at me, gifting you book and listening to you reading them also

Tom:

I‘m sorry but do I really have to explain? 💀

Mattheo:

like think about benjamin wadsworth and then about Mattheo, it just makes sense to me that he‘s a gym rat 🤝🏻😍

xoxo sarah <3

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penrot · 11 months ago

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Purfect pair, one without hair and one with too much.

Second imagine completely inspired me, felt like it fit so well. I think this is inspiring a Cat!AU, right now a drawing one rather than a writing one. Currently working on the Origins one. So cute.

I adore cats so much.

#cat #harry potter #harrymort #tomarry #tom riddle #tom x harry #tomarry fanart #tmrhp #tomarrymort #cute cats #cat au #catsaupenrot

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jazz-keeps-the-sadzz-away · 1 month ago

Note

Hi! firstly, glad you're back! only found your blog yesterday through others and secondly, since you want ideas, how about Harry threatening Tom with a knife and Tom having too much fun?

Idc if you do the prompt, I'm just here for more art, your style is so scrumptious!!!

- @arcturus-night-star

thanks you so much for the suggestions, night star! it was amazing to work on this prompt, and i can feel my vigor for tomarry returning 😤💪

#harry potter #tom riddle #harry potter fanart #tomarry #tom riddle fanart #harry potter au #tom riddle x harry potter

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darkmarkmarauder · 2 months ago

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It takes Two to Toxic - T.R.

!warning!minorsdni, mild violence, bdsm, breeding kink

pairing: ex!Tom Riddle x you

The first time you saw Tom Riddle drink, you almost didn’t believe your eyes.

Tom never let his composure slip. Never let anyone in. He was a fortress of cold, calculating precision, always three steps ahead of everyone, his every move deliberate, every word like a carefully placed dagger. You knew that better than anyone.

Yet here he was, slumped over his desk in his dimly lit Slytherin dormitory, bottle in hand, writing feverishly in that damn diary of his, eyes rimmed in red. He didn’t look up when you entered, though he must have known it was you. He always knew.

You didn’t speak at first, just watched him with something that wasn’t quite pity. He’d never accept that, not from you. Maybe not from anyone. His knuckles were white around the neck of the bottle, his other hand gripping the quill like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality. His breath was uneven. Shallow.

“Didn’t peg you for the type to drown your sorrows,” you finally said, voice quiet but not gentle. You wouldn’t give him that, wouldn’t give him the softness he never afforded you.

His lips curled into something resembling a smirk, but it was hollow. Empty. “And I never took you for the type to fuck Nott just to spite me.”

You swallowed, bracing for the familiar sting of his words. “I didn’t do it to spite you, Tom. I did it because I was done.”

The laugh he let out was dry, bitter. “You keep saying that,” he murmured, bringing the bottle to his lips. “Yet here you are.”

“You didn’t love me,” you finally said, forcing the words past the lump in your throat. “Not really.”

Tom’s gaze lifted from the pages of his diary, and for the first time since you entered the room, you saw something real in those dark eyes. Something that terrified you.

“You think that?” His voice was almost gentle. Almost.

You swallowed, standing your ground. “I know that.”

He smirked, but there was no cruelty in it. Just sorrow. “Then why are you here?”

You had no answer. Because despite everything, despite the ruin you had both left in each other’s wake, some part of you still felt tethered to him. Maybe it always would.

“I don’t know,” you admitted.

Tom leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. The firelight cast shadows across his face, making him look older, more tired. “You should leave.”

You should have. You knew that. But your feet stayed planted. “You never let yourself feel things, Tom. And now you finally do, and you just—drink?”

He exhaled sharply, setting the bottle down with a controlled but deliberate thud. “Oh, spare me the sanctimonious bullshit,” he sneered, eyes dark and venomous. “You fucked Theo because you’re a petulant whore who needed attention. Don’t dress it up as some grand act of defiance.”

You rolled your eyes, tilting your head, feigning boredom. “Right. Because everything has to be about you, doesn’t it? Maybe, just maybe, I actually enjoyed myself.” A slow, taunting smile played on your lips as you took a step closer. “At least Theo knew how to fuck me.”

The reaction was immediate. Tom went rigid, his fingers flexing on the edge of the desk, his jaw clenching so hard you half-expected his teeth to crack under the pressure.

His breathing was uneven, but his voice, when it came, was low and deadly. “What the fuck did you just say?”

You leaned in, just enough for him to feel the heat of you. “You heard me.”

His jaw clenched. “You’re lying.”

You shrugged, dragging out the silence just to watch him unravel. “Maybe.” You let the word hang between you, toying with it, with him. “Maybe not.”

Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. He was losing control. And god, you loved it. Loathed in it. For once, he was the one chasing, the one tormented, the one spiraling. You understood now why he obsessed over power—because it was intoxicating.

Tom stood suddenly, knocking the chair back, and in one swift motion, he was in front of you, too close, his presence suffocating. “You’re trying to make me angry,” he murmured, voice dark and silk-smooth, though his hands twitched like he wanted to break something.

You only smirked, tilting your head. “Oh, Tom,” you hummed, feigning sweetness. “I don’t have to try.”

His lips twitched—whether in amusement or rage, you couldn’t tell. But the way his fingers flexed at his sides, the way his chest rose and fell with sharp, controlled breaths, told you everything you needed to know.

“You think this is a game?” Tom’s voice was low, lethal, like the whisper of a knife slicing through silk.

You shrugged, slow, taunting. “Isn’t it?”

His hand shot out, gripping your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze.

“If it is,” he murmured, fingers pressing into your jaw just enough to make your breath hitch, “then you’ve just made a very, very foolish move.”

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t back down. Instead, you licked your lips, watching the way his eyes followed the movement with something almost feral. “Why? Because I finally stopped letting you win?”

His grip tightened for half a second before he let you go, stepping back like he needed the distance. Like if he stayed too close, he might do something reckless.

You almost wished he would.

“You think I care that you let him touch you?” He scoffed, reaching for the whiskey again, though his hand was far less steady now. “You were always going to be pathetic, desperate for scraps of attention.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “That’s rich, coming from the boy who’s spent years trying to make me need him.”

Tom stilled, the glass hovering just before his lips.

You smiled, slow and victorious. “Hit a nerve?”

His eyes darkened, he didn’t need words to express how pissed he was. Without warning, the glass flew from his hand, shattering against the wall behind you. You didn’t flinch. That would’ve given him too much satisfaction.

“You really want to test me tonight, don’t you?” Tom’s voice was silk and steel, every word deliberate dripping with barely restrained fury.

You stepped closer, invading his space, tilting your chin up in defiance. “I don’t have to test you, Tom.” Your voice dropped to a whisper, your breath ghosting over his skin. “I already know exactly what you’ll do.”

He forced you back, shoving you against the desk, the wood biting into the small of your back. His hips pressed against yours, pinning you in place. “Tell me,” he whispered, lips ghosting over your jaw, “does he know how to touch you?”

Voice venomous, dripping with disdain. “Does he know how to make you beg? How to make you scream?”

You bit your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. His fingers trailed down your arms, slow, teasing, before gripping your waist, pulling you against him. “Tell me,” he demanded, voice dark and commanding. “Did he have you like this?”

You gasped as he spun you around, bending you over the desk in one swift motion. His hand pressed against the small of your back, keeping you there, exposed, vulnerable.

“Needy slut,” he sneered, his hand sliding up your spine before curling into your hair, yanking your head back just enough to force your gaze sideways, meeting his. “You like this, don’t you? Being put in your place. Being reminded who you fucking belong to.”

You scoffed, and that reaction earned you a sharp slap against your ass, the sting radiating through you, making your thighs clench. “Don’t fucking ignore me,” he growled, his fingers digging into your hips.

You wanted to fight back, say something sharp and cruel, but the second his hand slid between your thighs, all words left you. He knew exactly how to play you, how to push and pull until you were at the brink, until your body betrayed you.

“Look at you,” he murmured, fingers teasing, barely touching. “so wet for me.” His fingers pushed aside your lace panties finding your soaked cunt, teasing, circling through your dripping folds. He pushed two fingers inside you, slow, deliberate, hearing the slick evidence of your arousal. “You can fuck around with whoever you want, but we both know no one else can ruin you like I can.”

Your nails dug into the wood, your body arching as he set a brutal pace, fingers curling, pressing against that devastating spot that had you moaning his name. He smirked darkly. “There she is. See how easy that was?”

Before you could muster a response, he yanked you up, spinning you around and forcing you back until your ass hit the hard edge of his desk. His hands caged you in, fingers pressing into the wood as he loomed over you.

He grabbed your hand, wrapping it around his cock pumping it slowly, his forehead pressing against yours. His eyes, the same ones you’d lost your virginity to, the same ones you’d cried over, wanted to die over, the same ones you were imagining when you were with Theo.

Feeling the warmth from his precum as you spread it through your hand and around him. Bringing up your fingers to suck the remnants off.

He watched you intensely as a satisfied hum left him before he pushed inside you, stretching you inch by inch until you were gasping beneath him. His grip tightened, nails digging into your skin as he set a ruthless pace, fucking you deep and hard against the desk.

The desk scraped against the floor with every merciless snap of his hips, unrelenting as he fucked you hard enough to leave bruises. You clawed at his arms, gasping, sobbing his name as he drove you higher and higher, his teeth sinking into your shoulder, his breath ragged against your skin.

“i ca-can’t take-”

“Take it,” he growled, his hand tangling in your hair, yanking your head back so you’d meet his gaze. “You wanted to act like a brat—so fucking take it.”

You whimpered, nails raking down his chest, drawing red lines over his pale skin.

“Tom—fuck—”

“That’s right,” he hissed, driving into you harder, faster. “Say my name when you cum. Let the whole castle know who owns you.”

You leaned back, hands braced against the desk as you bounced on him harder, faster. His fingers digging into your hips, bruising as his cock twitched inside you.

His rhythm stuttered as your body clenched around him, dragging him deeper, milking every last drop of cum. He groaned, gripping you tighter as he spilled into you, the warmth of his release sending you over the edge with him as you screamed his name.

Panting, you collapsed against his chest, both of you a sweaty, tangled mess. His arms wrapped around you, holding you there.

Tom pulled out slowly, watching the way his cum dripped from your overstimulated cunt, his eyes dark with possession. A smirk tugged at his lips as he brought his fingers to your entrance, scooping up his release and pushing it back inside you. “Can’t waste a drop now, can we?”

You whimpered, body trembling from the overwhelming pleasure. He brought his soaked fingers to your lips, pressing them against your tongue. "Suck," he commanded, and you obeyed, swirling your tongue around them as you tasted the mixture of both of you. His eyes burning into you as he watched, his smile proving his satisfaction.

He lifted you into his arms, carrying you effortlessly toward the massive silk covered bed. His sheets were cool against your heated skin as he laid you down. He grabbed his wand, muttering a cleaning charm before pulling you into his arms.

You nuzzled into his chest, taking in the warmth from his body.

“Tell me a story,” you murmured, voice laced with sleep.

He laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Demanding even when exhausted,” he mused, but there was no real irritation in his tone. Only amusement. Only adoration.

Settling in, his voice dropped to that smooth, hypnotic cadence. “Have you ever heard the tale of the three brothers?”

You hummed in response, already drifting, the steady rise and fall of his chest lulling you to sleep. His words blurred together, weaving through your dreams as you fell asleep.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

a/n: sigh pretty sure my soul left my body halfway thru. hope u like it ;)

ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀ ᴄʀᴇᴅ: @ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ

MASTERLIST

#tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #slytherin boys x you #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys #tom riddle imagine #slytherin #tom marvolo riddle x y/n #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x au #tom marvolo riddle x reader #tom riddle fan fic #tom riddle one shot #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle drabble #theodore nott

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nottyoursbutmine · 11 months ago

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harry potter fic recs 6

side note to say: IM A WHORE FOR THEO AND TOM 😭

personal favs 🐍

masterlists

harry potter masterlist @thestarsarebrightertonight 🐍

harry potter masterlist @theostrophywife

Masterlist @suugarbabe

Masterlist @cardansriddle 🐍

Slytherin Boys Social Media @kaciebello

tom riddle

and i can’t help that the devil likes to come and rest his little head @darkmagic-s

Mimicry (Series) @sunder-soul

mattheo riddle

We Got That Love, The Crazy Kind @ash-whimsicalfanfic

Unexpected @suugarbabe 🐍

theodore nott

you’ve bewitched me @patrophthia

green with envy @theostrophywife 🐍

A date? part two @myfeetrcolddd

dreaming of saturn @thestarsarebrightertonight

you’ll always be my girl @caramelcal

fred weasley

brainwashed @luveline

Sudden Attraction Part Two Part Three @frost-queen 🐍🐍

george weasley

sweet nothing @sergeantbuckybarnes 🐍

james potter

I guess I thought it would be harder for you to let me go @morwap 🐍🐍🐍

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viperify · 3 months ago

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𝗔𝗨 | ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ!ᴛᴏᴍ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Moonlight Cravings.

Short summary: Vampire!Tom has known he’d make you his ever since he first met you. When his need for your blood grows unbearably strong, he knows it’s time to finally make a move.

A/N: As I plan on writing more than just one full-length fic for my Vampire AU anyway and haven’t had the time to work on it yet, I thought I’d get started with a how-vampire!Tom-would-slowly-declare-his-presence-in-your-life drabble/fic.

wordcount: 1,0k

Tom’s presence looms over your life like a shadow. He seems to be wherever you go, and though he never pays you much attention, he still is there. Either casually leaning against the wall near the class you are attending next or accompanying his friends to the Three Broomsticks when you are there as well. Which is quite ironic, considering most people know Tom doesn’t even like butterbeer.

In fact, you are not quite sure if he likes anything really. Each time you share a class, Tom is mostly quiet, except for his witty remarks whenever professors ask questions. Even outside the classroom he doesn’t talk much, mostly found in the library with his head buried in books. Well, as long as you are in the library as well, that is.

You don’t think too much of it. It’s Tom Riddle, after all—naturally one of the most handsome men you have ever laid eyes on, but oh so unreachable. You vividly remember a girl back in your third year asking him to attend the Yule Ball with her. It was a decision she made against the advice of practically everyone she asked, and it ended exactly the same way you had told her it would. Things like these never end well with him, so you don’t even attempt questioning his behaviour—instead, you think you are utterly delusional for even assuming there could be anything between the two of you.

Tom, on the other hand, is entirely consumed by you. From the moment he first caught your unmistakably sweet scent, he knew he had to have you, his mind going blank every time you simply passed him in the corridors. It’s as if there is a force pulling him towards you, one that he can’t control, one that clouds his mind and strips him of any sane thoughts he had left. Taming his needs as a vampire has never been difficult. Not until he met you, that is.

And as soon as bouquets of your favourite flowers show up in your dorm every other week, accompanied with small gifts like your pralines of choice, you can’t help but wonder whether there was a chance Tom’s strange behaviour did have something to do with this. It’s these thoughts that keep you up at night and make you zone out in class. There is not much you can do except wonder who it is that admires you, but you sure have a guess.

During yet another restless night, you decide to get up and take a walk through the castle to calm your mind. The hallways are faintly illuminated by the moon’s glow, shining brightly as it completes yet another full circle around the earth. Although your steps are as quiet as they can possibly be, you soon feel the air shift around you, as though someone is watching you. But when you turn around, no one is there.

“You shouldn’t be wandering around the castle this late at night.” A voice coming from your right remarks, and you almost drop your wand, heart hammering wildly in your chest in response to the unexpected interruption. A tall figure emerges from behind a pillar then, and it takes you less than one second to figure out who it is. You had forgotten that Tom Riddle also happened to be a prefect.

It’s too dark to make out much of his face, but there is an undeniable red glow that flickers in his otherwise dark brown eyes. Before you can even process the thought, he blinks, and it’s gone. Instead, the corner of his mouth lifts just slightly as he takes in your startled expression, raising his eyebrow expectantly.

“I suppose I- I couldn’t sleep. You must know, walking helps to clear my mind.” You manage to get out, and although it isn’t a lie, your hesitation sure made it sound like one.

Tom huffs. “A selfish action that just cost your house ten points. Now, you surely wouldn’t mind me escorting you to your respective dormitories?”

You don’t try to argue—it is still Tom Riddle you’re dealing with after all. Instead, you respond with a small nod and retrace your steps with him by your side.

“What might your mind be troubled with?” he asks then, his voice cutting through the silence of the night. The question makes you tense slightly, your fingers curling tighter around your wand. It’s the first time he actively looks for a conversation, the first time his presence feels intended and real.

You take a breath, not exactly knowing what to respond. “Your seemingly seventh sense for my whereabouts“ doesn’t seem like an appropriate answer after all.

The upcoming exam season saves you from the awkwardness. Although he doesn’t seem to fully believe you, he lets it go, not speaking another word until you disappear behind your dormitory door.

But even then, you can’t seem to sleep, the image of the red glow in his eyes lingering in your mind. You know there is something you can connect it to, and soon, a memory of a Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson in your second year resurfaces.

Full moon. Pale skin. Red eyes. They all match, and yet you find it hard to believe. Vampires have been extinct for nearly 400 years in Great Britain, there was no real reason for you to think he could be one.

Right?

#im so excited to write more for this au!!!#im gonna try to be quick #just veeeery busy atm :((#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle fic #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle vampire au #slytherin boys #slytherin #harry potter #vampire au #divider by strangergraphics #🦢⋆⭒˚.⋆my works #vampire!tom

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