#author dividers

[inklore]

— feel free to request more colors.

like or reblog if you use them please!

[viperify]

Smutmas 2024 | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ᴍᴜɢɢʟᴇ ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

We will meet again. | pt 2

Short summary: Ever since you had met Tom, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was mysterious and intriguing in the best possible way – if only he hadn’t disappeared out of nowhere at the Christmas market. It’s two weeks later now and you intend to spend Christmas Eve by yourself. Or will you?

Warnings: 18+ only! stalker!Tom, dub con, rough sex, extreme choking, impact play, degradation, biting, bondage, slight blasphemy ig, unprotected p in v, no aftercare

A/N: All I want for Christmas is… uhhh…

wordcount: 2,9k

read part one before!

Nobody messes with Tom Riddle’s head.

Especially not a muggle girl.

He let his guard down that day, something that hadn’t happened in a long time. You intrigued him in the worst possible way– an odd feeling he wasn’t used to blooming in his chest. One that only got stronger every time he had looked into your beautiful eyes, one that he couldn’t seem to let go, one that distracted him any time he wanted to simply read a book or study.

It has been driving him close to insanity.

Two weeks have passed since your encounter at the Christmas market and he had since found out where you lived, when you arrived home after work and, most importantly, he had a well worked out plan where he would teach you a little lesson.

Christmas Eve.

Fourteen days ago you met Tom, and he has never left your mind since. He has even followed you in some of your dreams. The necklace – you don’t wear it. Too much of a reminder of how he just left you behind, essentially having your friends think you’ve gone crazy as you rambled on about this tall, handsome stranger who you swore was just sitting there next to you on the bench. Without paying it any further attention, you have put the jewellery away, somewhere where you were sure you wouldn’t have to encounter it again for the next few months.

You live in your own apartment, within a small living room currently decorated with a middle-sized Christmas tree. The smell of pine needles and gingerbread hangs thick in the air, altogether creating a pleasant holiday feeling which perfectly fits to your tradition of watching a seasonal movie on Christmas Eve.

The season of love and peace doesn’t feel much like it when you have to decorate and organize everything yourself. The past few days have been nothing but tiring, which is why during the movie your eyelids flutter close every few minutes and you have to fight sleep with all your strength. Your exhaustion finally gets the better of you and you decide to head to bed, slipping into your fluffy bunny slippers and turning off the TV. After, you make your way to your bedroom, only the flashing Christmas decorations you had put up leading your way, casting a faint light on the otherwise empty hallway.

You touch the cold metal of the door handle and push down, entering your bedroom. Instead of darkness the dim light of your motion-sensing lamp greets you. It has been bugging often lately, just like the camera surveilling the front door entrance. Not even technicians you had hired could fix the issue – strange, you thought, especially as you have never had problems before. It’s probably due to the chilly weather they told you.

As you take a breath, a strange, yet familiar scent hits your senses. It reminds you of that day at the Christmas market. As you try to figure out where it was from exactly, Tom crosses your mind. It was his perfume, unmistakably, one that was so unique it was easily recognizable. Then, on the other hand, how could-

“You left your front door unlocked.”

A familiar voice, which you instantly make out to be Tom’s, snaps you out of your thoughts. You shriek, turning to face the figure behind you. You weren’t mistaken.

Your blood is rushing through your ears as he’s just standing there, arms behind his back, staring at you. Even in this faint lighting you could swear his eyes have gotten darker than last time you saw him.

“What the-? How did you get in here?” You breathe heavily, furrowing your eyebrows at the sight of how calmly, eerily so, he was standing in the corner of your bedroom.

His lips twitch slightly, almost like he was about to reply, but instead he takes a measured step towards you. “Why aren’t you wearing my present?” he asks, voice low and controlled as his gaze sinks to the exposed skin of your cleavage, scanning it for the silver necklace he had left you in your handbag.

A scoff escapes your lips, and you shake your head. “Now tell me one good reason why I should. We have barely talked. You left without saying anything. I never asked you to come back either, especially not by breaking into my house.”

It wasn’t exactly true – of course you have been thinking about him. About how he caught your attention so easily in the first place, how different he was to other men. You even have dreamed of him. Yet, you weren’t a person to just simply forgive and forget.

“Leave, just like you did two weeks ago. You have no business being in here anyway.”

Tom’s expression doesn’t change as he stands still for another moment. Though, he then quickly advances toward you and before you can react properly, he grabs your arm and pushes you back against the cold wall of your bedroom, pinning you in place with his body.

“I am not going to leave any time soon.” He snarls as his hand wraps around your throat, just enough to feel your pulse under his touch. You have been messing with my head. And you know what happens to people that mess with my head?”

“Bad things. Horrible, in fact.”

You avoid his piercing gaze best as you can. “Well,” you huff, “that is not my fucking-“

Smack.

You hiss, head whacking to the side as his palm strikes your cheek forcefully, the burning sting radiating through your body. And damn – it shouldn’t make you feel the way it does.

“I am going to scream.” You croak best as you can, though you aren’t quite sure if you could under his firm grip.

“For help?“ he taunts, his lips curling up in a smug grin, “I would like to see you try.”

“I know what you have been dreaming of the past two weeks. Exactly this, isn’t it? My hand wrapped around your pretty throat, fucking you senseless. You can’t hide from me.”

“I have no clue what you-“

You hiss as a sharp pain in your head cuts off your lie, and the world around you shifts into something oddly familiar, a scenery you recognize from one of your dreams you had two nights ago.

It was you and him after your encounter at the Christmas market, but instead of disappearing, he had come home with you.

Not only that, though.

“God Tom, please!” You whine, lifting your hips from the mattress to meet his harsh thrusts, desperately chasing your high as he hits all the right spots that have your vision blur.

He looks so perfectly messy like this – sweat glistening on his skin, his beautiful brunette curls sticking to his forehead as he looks down at you with hazy, lust-filled eyes. The most raw and gorgeous groans come from his slightly parted lips, and you swear that sight alone would push you over the edge soon enough.

“Tell me what you need, and I will give it to you.���  Tom encourages, sucking marks into the tender skin of your neck.

“Need you to choke me. Please.” You manage, and his hand tightly wraps around your throat in an instant, as though he was waiting for those exact words to spill over your lips.

“Anything for you.”

And just like that, the scenery shifts again. You whimper as the stinging pain in your head disappears, and you are met with the brunette staring right at you with a cruel smirk, his face inching closer to yours until he is merely a breath away.

“It would be oh so cruel of me to deny you-“ Tom rasps, his voice laced with sarcasm as his hand finds its way under your skirt, “what you have been craving for so badly, don’t you think?”

A nod. A nod is all you can manage in return. You don’t even have time to question whatever just happened, inhaling shakily as his hand travels up your bare thigh, thumb brushing over the damp spot on your panties. Tom furrows his eyebrows and groans, lowly, at the feeling of your arousal on his finger.

“This turns you on? You are more pathetic than I thought.”

The firm grip he has on your throat softens, and your lungs finally expand with oxygen as you suck in a deep breath. He takes out a weird looking stick from inside his coat and mutters something for you inaudible. Just a second later your clothes are neatly folded on the floor and you stand there – half-naked, merely your lace underwear left on your otherwise exposed figure. You gasp in surprise and instinctively try to cover yourself, however Tom is quicker, grabs your wrist and sits you down on the soft mattress of your bed. Then, he does the same thing again, to himself this time.

Your eyes widen, trying to comprehend whatever just happened right in front of your eyes. “How- who are you? Some kind of magician?”

The brunette huffs, pushing you down onto the velvety sheets of your bed. “I am much more than a mere magician.”

And this time, he would let you keep the memory.

Before you can reply anything, he hovers above you, trailing kisses down your neck. Not like those you are used to from past experiences, though. They are rough and full of hunger, teeth grazing your skin, biting down here and there, practically marking you up as his own. Just like those dreams you have had.

Tom trails lower, stopping right at the swell of your breasts. “Still wearing too much.” He mutters under his breath, but it’s too late when you realize his intention. The material of your bralette rips with a sharp tear as it gives way to the force he is applying, the fabric sliding off to each side.

You want to complain, tell him that was one of your favourites, but when his teeth sink into the flesh of your breast any sane thoughts vanish from your mind. “Tom! Are you crazy?!” You shriek, attempting to push his head off you.

“Some people would say insane.” He retorts almost too calmly, lifting his head to answer, though not wasting much time before he dips down again to wrap his lips around your stiffened bud, sucking and biting down on it.

You throw your head back as soft moans escape your parted lips, your fingers raking through his perfect curls, tugging on them just slightly. His hand wanders down your stomach, and with a quick motion your panties are thrown on the floor.

“That is by the way no proper way to undress a woman.” You scold, and his eyes meet yours for a moment.

“You must be utterly delusional to assume I cared about that.”

Shaking your head you reach to the waistband of his briefs to get rid of them, blindly taking his length in your hand while you study his facial expressions. Only when you stroke him up and down, rubbing your thumb over his with precum glistening tip, you notice his size. Fuck.

His hand takes yours, pinning both of them above your head. Tom stills then, his eyes skimming over your naked figure underneath him for a brief moment as though he wanted to imprint your form into his mind forever.

“Keep your hands up there.” He demands lowly, and that is when you feel him aligning himself with your entrance, pushing into you steadily. You gasp at the blissful stretch Tom is providing you, burying his cock in your warm, welcoming walls.

“Season of love and peace, hm?” He rasps, pulling out of you almost entirely. “Let me show you what that means to me.”

A whole lot apparently.

“Because all you have caused me is anger and frustration.”

“Oh fuck- that’s too deep!” You cry out as he thrusts back into you at his last words, with much greater force this time. “Yeah? And I know you love it. Look how greedy you are, sucking me right in. See what a pathetic slut you are for it.”

His demeanour has in the meanwhile changed into something darker, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he mercilessly pounds into your tight cunt. You don’t exactly know what you have done wrong – he left you behind after all, not the other way around. However, who were you to complain if it meant you would get this?

Your hands reach to hold onto him, digging your nails into his skin, mark him like he did with you. A short-lived idea, it turns out. Tom hisses something, a word you can’t quite understand, and your hands return to their position above your head. Securely fastened with invisible binds.

“Wh- oh god! Oh dear god fuck-“ you cry out as he repeatedly hits that one spot deep inside of you that has stars blur your vision, subsequently having his hand wrap around your throat to muffle your moans. Then, his burning gaze meets yours.

“God? Pray to me. I am the only one above you, pray to me.”

Tom’s grip on your throat tightens at that, almost cutting off your airflow entirely.

Dreams do come true, after all.

The sounds of skin slapping against each other fills the room, and the air grows thick with the smell of lust and desire. You get to feel all of him, every single vein, even the slight curve of his perfect length. It all feels too good, too much for you to take. With your hands tied and voice taken away, that though is the only thing you can do – taking it.

“How does it feel-“ he breathes heavily, his dark brown curls sticking to his forehead as he punctuates his question with particularly rough thrusts. “How does it feel to be completely at my mercy, hm? To have me decide whether you get to take another breath?”

You can’t manage a reply, too caught up in pleasure clouding your mind, too focused on the slight sting you get as he brushes your cervix with every thrust as your walls give way to him entirely.

Soon your eyes flutter close, your consciousness slowly fading away under the firm grip he has on your throat. His hand then releases you, instead delivering a harsh smack to your cheek.

He adds another one as you don’t respond immediately.

“Breathe.”

You cough, gasping for air as your vision slowly comes back to you and are met with the brunette glancing down at you. “Doing so well for me.” He groans lowly, his thrusts growing more erratic as you clench around him, feeling your own high building rapidly.

“Please- please I need you to-“ you whine, bucking your hips against his thrusts for more friction. He reaches between you two, thumb finding your clit, rubbing figure eights on it. “S’ that what you need?”

You nod frantically. “Yes, oh Tom-“ your wrists pull at the bindings, but it’s no use. “Come. Come and show me how much of a slut you are for me.”

That’s the only thing you need to hear before the waves of your climax wash over you, repeating his name like a prayer as your cunt greedily pulses around his length, encouraging his release as well.

“I fucking- hate you-“ he grunts, emptying himself inside of you, biting down on your shoulder and collapsing on your spent body afterwards. You two stay like this for a brief moment before he pulls out of you. Tom keeps your legs spread and you whimper softly as his fingers swipe through your glistening folds, gathering some of your mixed arousal before he brings it to your lips.

“Open up. Taste us.” He demands, and you follow his command, taking his digits into your mouth to suck them clean. You never take your eyes off him, and the sight in front of you is heavenly. Tom looks oddly messy like this, hair disheveled, beads of sweat visible on his forehead, lips slightly parted as he breathes. Lord have mercy, you think.

 He withdraws his fingers from your mouth and cleans himself with what you have learned to be his wand. “You are a wizard?” You ask, sitting up to meet his gaze.

Tom nods. “Do not speak to anyone about this. Or I won’t have mercy with you next time.”

You grin. “There will be a next time?”

Just another second later and he stands before you, fully dressed in his black robes, his eyes wandering over your figure and his lips curl into a satisfied smirk. “Maybe. If you wear the necklace.”

You point towards the mess on your sheets and inner thighs expectantly. “Could you-“

“I am quite positive you will be fine.” Tom replies sternly, getting ready to leave.

It’s not that you were expecting him to stay the night, though you couldn’t help but feel disappointed he was leaving so soon. Your eyes follow his tracks, and when he then stands before you to hand you your clothes and a towel, you take the opportunity.

“Would you stay if I wanted you to?” You ask, still hopeful, though you already know the answer.

He shakes his head. “No.”

And so Tom takes out his wand, hesitating for a moment before he turns to face you for one last time.

“Happy Christmas.”

Just like that, he is gone again.

And the necklace? The most beautiful you have ever worn.

tagging for pt 2: @theacreativity @sirenseaborne @tomriddleswhcre

[sayornispress]

Two author copies delivered! Both for @bropunzeling (AO3 here).

More photos and info under the cut!

I actually did my copies of these a while ago--both in February, one in 2024 and the other in 2023. collide the spaces that divide us was one of my earliest attempts at social media formatting, and one of the last books I ever made with my inkjet printer. I did end up fixing a few things on that one's typeset, but it's nearly identical to my first copy. You may also notice in the photos that I chopped off a bit too much off the edge--I didn't yet know how to use my guillotine, and in all the time that's passed since then, it's become defunct (sharp enough to cut off a hand, but not sharp enough to cut through a stack of paper lol)

It's neat to see such a clear example of how much I've improved as a bookbinder in a year and a half--my copy on the left, author's on the right:

Also, a comparison of color ink (left) vs color laser (right):

Like this, it's easy to see how much more vibrant color toner is than ink. Ink works much better for complex images, but since I don't print a lot of photos, but do make a lot of social media typesets, this works much much better for my purposes.

Soon after that, I bought a black-only laser printer and had a whole new set of challenges. It was in this era of printing that I made only fools rush in. It has one of my most complex title pages to date, as they're not really my forte.

Below are my copy, the title page, and an example of how I did texts in this particular typeset.

My copy has a cloth spine and a different cloth as the cover, with a strip from the endpapers to hide my sins act as a bridge between them. This is one of the binds from last Binderary that I'm most proud of.

The title page is in several different pieces--sort of jigsaw-puzzled together from vectors, Google Drawings, and a few different fonts.

Black-toner-only printing meant adjusting how I did social media formatting, and this is one of my favorite ways I solved that problem. I like the simple, almost minimalist formatting that sets the texts apart but doesn't steal the show.

I'd been meaning to offer author copies for these books for as long as I'd had them, but it's hard to understate how little I wanted to use my inkjet once I got a laser XD It's both slower and more expensive to use an inkjet, so as soon as I got my color laser printer set up, I sent the DM!

I organize my handbound fics by ship--that is, every ship has a set spine cloth and title color--so one of my favorite things about author copies is that I get to be a little more creative about covers!

[bayeprose]

‿︵ ‧˚⭒ excerpt from please stay, hippocrene on ao3

(warning: contains non-explicit sexual content) ‧˚⭒

Breathlessly, he asks, “... Annabeth, are we—?” “Percy, I don’t know, just kiss me more—” And she tangles her hand throughout his hair and urges him back against her lips. Percy groans as they make contact, his eyes falling shut once more. She’s still touching his leg, she’s squeezing it now and he’s dizzy with desire. He never knew what a turn-on it could be to have a girl grip his thigh, to feel her fingers curled into his hair as she kisses him forcefully—but gods, it’s driving him crazy. Is he allowed to just surrender to this feeling? Annabeth did give him an answer. And he is nothing if not inclined to oblige her request. Mindlessly, his hand reaches for her waist. He isn’t thinking at all—he just wants more of Annabeth. And he caresses her with that adventurous hand—slowly, shakily, over the fabric of her shirt, and then he leans even further into the kiss. With his other hand he grasps her jaw, holding her steady against his lips as they part further and entrap her own in the push of his greedy kiss. Moaning softly, she grips his thigh tighter. In this moment, Percy has never felt more that Annabeth is his and that he belongs to her. Every simmering slip of impassioned tongue and lustful sigh into each other’s mouths empowers the truth that they belong together. His head is swimming from the thrill of touch—it feels so, so good. Her tongue has this way of pressing against his that feels so right, so sensual, so... adult, and he shudders in relief when she does it again. But he’s keeping up, too—smoothing his tongue along her bottom lip, clutching her shirt tightly when she hums in return because he’s eager to give her everything she wants tenfold. Faster, deeper, their tongues trade lusts in frantic glissandos and her airy moans resound in his ears— “Mmph, Percy—” “—Annabeth,” he murmurs urgently, sparing only a second to breathe between kisses before diving back for more. He increasingly depends on his limited instincts, obeying every impulse that commands his body. Wordlessly, their position changes; Annabeth slowly leans back onto the bed and Percy then falls along with her. In hovering over her like this, he’s reminded of their earliest days at Camp Half-Blood sparring together. He still remembers the very first time that he got the best of her, when he’d swung his sword with too much force and knocked her clean onto her back. Percy had rushed to the ground so as to straddle her there, his irreverent sword pointed at her bronze breastplate. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t get back up. At the time, he’d felt nothing more than childish pride in finally overcoming the acclaimed Annabeth Chase (and a subsequent lick of fear that she might kill him in his sleep). Only now does he recognize the animal excitement of being on top of a girl like this—on a bed, no less. Her legs spread wider until they take hold of his hips, a touch which summons one tantalizing thought: ‘She wants me here. Between her thighs.’ He didn’t often risk such indulgent thoughts, because he didn’t want to be alone in experiencing them. If Annabeth had ever wanted him that way, she either hid it too well, or he’d been too dense to grasp any number of her hints. Both options seemed equally likely, lending no outlet for his indecent desires. So the odes of lust that he’d sung for her in past were always quickly silenced through sheer willpower. He never let them reach their final note, he didn’t let dirty thoughts become full, lecherous fantasies. Not after a particularly brutal incident some years ago, a summer evening at camp by the lake boardwalk. She wore a tank top that her chest had outgrown the summer before, because a Stoll prank gone wrong had burned most of her clothes. Percy’s gaze had lingered for seconds too long, and then the image of her chest wouldn’t leave his mind. It distracted him as he tried to sleep, flashed across his eyelids each time they closed. He hadn’t stood a chance against his urges that night, succumbing to them twice over in an empty Cabin Three...

Summary: In Frank's eyes, Percy and Annabeth are the perfect demigod couple. They're grown, they're engaged, and they've overcome so much together. Feeling helpless in escalating his own relationship to their coveted adult achievements, he seeks out Percy's help. Unbeknownst to Frank, Percy and Annabeth are grappling with some intimacy struggles of their own.

read on ao3 ⭒ 25k/ongoing ⭒ explicit content/18+ only ⭒ percabeth/frazel

[frenchkisstheabyss]

🖤 dividers for writers w/ a bone to pick 🖤

Get it? Bone? Skeleton? Halloween...anyway, the season of the witch is upon us and your scary godmother is stopping by to drop off some skeleton (& other spooky themed) dividers for your horror/supernatural adventures

[quotelr]

It is not our differences that divide us. It is our inability to recognize, accept, and celebrate those differences.

Audre Lorde

[vg-k]

𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗁𝖺̃𝗌 𝓬𝓸𝓶 𝐯𝐨𝐜𝐞̂ ᤣ९  @yrminji

[sprintingficcommentator]

I love System mission names in fics omg

[fate-defiant]

You've inspired me so you gotta deal with these in your inbox now

There he is 💖💕💞 that motherfucker😙🥰🫤😻 what a tool!!! 💫💗💜🤝💓✨🫂☺️🌄

[chilschuck]

lilia 🌱 ⛤ she + her. i write and draw what i’m currently fixated on!

currently really into dunmeshi and chilchuck. twenty-three y/o. ꒱

feel free to send me fic or writing requests when they’re open, or even musings and rambles always!! i love writing hcs and x reader stuffs. sfw only for right now!

my requests are closed for right now!!

— masterlist. 🪴 draw me something?

꒰ dni if proship or other dni criteria !!! ꒱

[sarasade]

Backstory headcanon- Harrow and Viren met at a small pastoral village where the royal family used to spend their summers and where Viren lived as Kpp’Ar’s apprentice

[inklore]

— feel free to request more colors.

like or reblog if you use them please!

[thatscarletflycatcher]

It is often believed that the worst academic sin is jargon soup, but I present to you: author who presents a very bold interpretational theory and then proceeds to qualify their theory in such a way that makes the original theory practically meaningless but also irrefutable in the process.

[bayeprose]

‿︵ ‧˚⭒ excerpt from please stay, hippocrene on ao3

(warning: contains suggestive text + mentions of kissing) ‧˚⭒

Frank eventually sputtered, “I’m... I’m just gonna try to explain what happened, and you can just tell me to shut up when it’s TMI, okay?” “Okay.” Percy said. He lowered his voice even more. Shadows from the gray sky made it seem like he was about to tell a ghost story. “Last night, things with Hazel got kind of... weird...” “Weird?” “Yeah... weird.” “How weird?” “We... we were kissing.” “Oh.” Percy blinked. That’s not where he thought this was going. “Okay. Uh... do you guys not usually do that, or—” “No, no, we’ve kissed before. But this time, we really kissed. A lot. Like, we were making out. And it was great.” Out of respect, Percy tried not to visibly grimace. No offense to either of them, but Hazel was like a little sister to him, and it felt really strange to hear Frank talk of her like that. It just wasn't something that he wished to visualize. “Okay,” he said calmly. Really. He was trying his best to be calm. “And?” “Well...” Frank twiddled his thumbs. “We’ve never done that before. And it got really intense, and I... I kind of reacted to it too much.” Now, here was some telling information, finally. Percy felt like he was starting to understand what his friend was getting at. But... their first time making out? Last night? Really? Percy’s free time was quite limited, and he spent approximately zero seconds of his days thinking about what other people in his circle did behind closed doors. He’s a--‘That’s none of my business.’--type of guy, to the extent that Annabeth was often irritated by his lack of interest in demigod drama. She’d come to him with fresh, riveting gossip like, “Did you hear? Sherman and Miranda got caught in the Big House together.” and he’d have little more to say than, “I forgot they were dating.”

Like... sure, he figured that the couples he knew of were sleeping together. He could even surmise that the singles he knew of might be sleeping together. But... so what? They’re adults, now; it’s not really all that scandalous or interesting, and in fact, people not sleeping together seemed a lot more noteworthy than the alternative. So to hear that Frank and Hazel had never even made out before... not only was it noteworthy, considering how long they’ve been together, but it was so surprising that he needed to know more in spite of his discomfort with the sordid subject matter. Is this why people like gossip? “... Wait,” Percy started nervously. “What do you mean you ‘reacted too much’?” Frank blushed, which made Percy even more nervous. “Um... Hazel was, well, we were on the couch, and we just finished a movie, and we were just really close, and I kind of— “Oh gods, Frank, you didn’t... do that, did you?”

Summary: In Frank's eyes, Percy and Annabeth are the perfect demigod couple. They're grown, they're engaged, and they've overcome so much together. Feeling helpless in escalating his own relationship to their coveted adult achievements, he seeks out Percy's help. Unbeknownst to Frank, Percy and Annabeth are grappling with some intimacy struggles of their own.

read on ao3 ⭒ 25k/ongoing ⭒ explicit content/18+ only ⭒ percabeth/frazel

[frenchkisstheabyss]

✨ dividers for people who like cozy sweaters ✨

Even though autumn is largely spooky season for me it's also cozy sweater, latte, pie baking, playing in leaves season for me too here's some general adorableness 🖤

[lith-myathar]

.