#dark slytherin boys

[olivianott]

BRAIN CHEMISTRY

Tell me I’m not the only one happily not recovered from the deatheatertok (yes that’s why I’ve been MIA😬) and the Lorenzo Zurzolo gifs from the other day? 😭 I could not help myself with this one.

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION, OCTOBER CAME EARLY TO ME.

ꕤ 1.6k words 

ꕤ deatheater!Theo Nott x fem!reader

ꕤ warnings: toxic ex, deatheater Theodore, pure smut, unprotected sex, explicit content, not for minors, 18+

ꕤ all characters are adults

You knew you were in trouble. That you fucked up. You somehow found yourself at a party in an unknown manor. You and your friend got talking with some people at a pub and now you are surrounded by glimmering Death Eater masks. Everyone is acting as if they are just having fun at a party. But you see their eyes following the two of you everywhere. 

You already know what is going on at these parties. You heard stories, awful stories, from him. You wonder if he is in attendance. No. Stop thinking about him, he didn’t want you anymore. He is one of them after all. 

You try to think of a way out for you and your friend. Get drinks, but don’t drink them, discreetly inch towards the entrance while smiling and acting like you’re having the time of your life, getting through the door and the few steps over the anti-apparition wards and poof, you’re both safe. 

That was the plan. Everything went smoothly, until just before getting through the door, your path is crossed by a tall Death Eater with an overly decorated mask. “Hello, beautiful.” He says while you watch your friend successfully execute the plan and disappear with a crack. 

You turn around and try to escape the lewd gaze of the big Death Eater, but there is another one in your path and you realize you are surrounded. Fuck. This is not good. No, don’t panic, don’t panic.

You panic.

Your vision starts to blur and you can’t seem to think straight. Heart in your throat, the ground becomes unsteady. Another mask enters your field of vision, too close to your face. This mask looks elegant, not overly decorated, but with artistic lines strategically curved around the planes of the artificial face. He grabs you by the upper hand and starts to drag you away from the crowd that formed around you, barking something to the other Death Eaters. You try to fight him off but it’s not working, his grip tightens and when you don’t stop, he loses patience with you and puts his wand under your chin. It doesn’t hurt but the threat makes you tremble in fear.

The man leans down next to your ear and hisses: “STOP IT.” The voice is so hard and threatening but at the same time familiar. 

You momentarily freeze and that gives him time to drag you through the hall and into a bedroom. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

He closes the door after you and you finally have time to compose yourself, because he goes to the other side of the room, leaving you alone. While he locks the room with his wand, your mind clears slowly. You suddenly realize why the voice is so familiar. 

Theodore Nott. 

You’ve never seen him in his Death Eater robes and a mask before, but now you can’t stop looking at him. 

Theodore turns around, throws his mask on the bed, and stalks to you so fast, you actually step back in fear until your back is against the door. “Why the fuck are you here?!” He spits in your face, his eyes are feral and full of anger but also fear. 

“It was an accident, my friend thought it would be a good idea to-“ 

“To what? To enter a devil’s lair full of fucking Death Eaters that enjoy killing too much and don’t ask for permission to do anything? Don’t you fucking know what’s going on at these gatherings? Fucking hell!” He is talking quietly but with so much anger, you can actually feel his magic vibrating between you. 

“What’s it to you? You’re one of them now, you look like you’re right at home at this vile party, huh?” 

“Do you really think I like it? That I wanted this? Do you even know where you are?”

“In some nasty pureblood’s manor?”

“Yes. Welcome to the Nott manor.” His sarcastic smile falls off his face as he looks down and backs off of you, finally letting you breathe air. 

Oh. Nott manor. It’s his home. 

“Are you actually hosting this party?”

“Well, as I said, those people don’t ask permission for anything, so here we are. But now you are here and you made this night even more difficult for me. They have set their eyes on you now and they are hungry, in more ways than one. The Death Eaters need their food, and they like to play with it before eating.” 

He says this so matter of factly it takes a while for your mind to catch the whole truth of what you’ve casually walked into tonight. 

“You’re a Death Eater too now.”

“Exactly.” He smirks. 

You’ve missed him so much. His scent brings back memories, and you feel your body heat up despite his arrogant behavior and attempts to scare you off.

“What- what are you going to do to me?” You say breathlessly. Without your permission, your mind shows you pictures of you and him from the past, the little bit of fear just heightening your excitement. 

“Oh please, you know I’m not like-“ he stops himself mid-sentence and focuses his glare on your throat, pulsing with blood rushing through you, your red cheeks, your trembling hands, the rise and fall of your chest. 

“Now I remember.” His mouth curves in this arrogant smirk and his eyes look mischievous at the same time as dangerous. 

“You like danger… you like being scared, amore? Does it turn you on? Tonight you bit more than you could chew though, princessa. And now…. You are trapped in here. With me.” 

You can’t respond to him, but your body does. Your breathing gets more labored and you can’t help your gaze falling to his lips. 

His hand starts roaming down your body while again hovering over you, leaning against the door, the height difference between you more obvious than ever. 

“I- uhh…-“ you are unable to say more. But you close the distance between you and crash your lips against his. 

Theodore groans loudly, takes both your hands in his, and slams them against the door above your head. 

“Oh princessa, you don’t know what you just started, do you?” His hard kisses resume and your mind is filled up with sensations. 

The feel of his body against yours, the hardness of the door digging into your back, his teeth biting your lips, dragging against your throat, his lips sucking on your pulse point. 

Your eyes are closed, but you feel your feet leave the ground as Theodore picks you up and sends you flying on the bed. While crawling over you on the bed, he picks up his mask and puts it on his face. 

Fuuuuck. 

You can barely see his eyes staring down at you from behind the mask, in between the short strands of hair falling down around it. 

The world is a blur now, clothes start flying off of you, his hands tracing your curves. Suddenly he loses patience and flips you over, on your hands and knees on the bed. With his hand under your chin, he makes you look up. A mirror. Your moan is embarrassingly loud. The vision of him in his mask behind you, admiring you through the mirror, hand grabbing your throat… you’ve never seen anything hotter. With his other hand he traces your wetness and groans into your ear: “So ready for me princessa, you really do get turned on with fear and danger. How nasty of you. Was this your plan all along? To get fucked by a Death Eater?”

You can only manage to shake your head no, since he is already opening his Death Eater robes and taking out his beautiful cock. 

“I bet you were hoping to find me here, right? Wanted to make me take you back? Make sweet love and be together forever?“ He chuckles condescendingly at that thought. „Look at you now, writhing under me, dying for me to fuck you like this, with my mask on. Scream for me, princessa.” You can’t see the expression on his face since he is wearing his mask but his words are so degrading and harsh. And still, your eyes roll back into your head. 

And you do scream for him, you can’t help it, you are overwhelmed with sensation, his hands, his cock, his scent. After a while, your arms give out and he pushes your chest down into the bed, holding your hands crossed behind your back, you can’t even move. You are completely at his mercy and the feelings in your head are so confusing. You feel pathetic, under him like this, your body getting rocked by his trusts, but still, the way his cock feels inside you, the way he seems so powerful and in control of you and your pleasure with the way he manipulates your body and mind creates a fog inside your brain. Surrounded by his grunts, you realize he is using you for his satisfaction, seemingly oblivious and uncaring about your comfort or pleasure. You being completely naked, with your face in the mattress while he is still fully clothed behind you is just another layer of the humiliation. But your fucked up brain makes you love it so much that with his whimpery moans in your ear you finally lose control as you feel him lose the rhythm and push all the way inside you, so incredibly deep,  as he spills himself inside you. 

There is no cuddling after. He unceremoniously pulls out and sits in his bed propped up against the headboard, a trembling hand bringing a cigarette to his mouth, while you try to find your clothes and dignity on the floor. 

“Nice show. You were loud enough, so now they know you’re mine and hopefully leave you alone. Doesn’t change anything between us though. You can use the floo to get out of here and I hope to never see you at these things again, you understand me?” He says all of this so coldly and without even looking at you at all, so you quickly throw on your clothes and leave through the floo, throwing a “you’re still the same asshole” at him over your shoulder. 

Sitting on your sofa two days later, you are replaying everything that happened that day in your head. Your brain keeps getting stuck on the fear in his eyes when he dragged you to the room, a shaking cigarette in his hand after the sex, a slight tremble in his voice while he kicked you out of the manor after fucking you into oblivion. 

Maybe everything is not as he wants you to believe. He saved you from them after all. 

As always, thank you for reading, hope you liked it. I’m not done with deatheater!Theo though 🤭.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚ Your principessa ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚

If you want more: 🖤here🖤

[jaythes1mp]

Hey, do you think you could ever do a yandere slytherin boys x reader? I read your Theodore nott work and thought the dynamic and story between them was really interesting. Btw I Love all your works!

Thank you!!

100% I can. This blog was made for both the Batfam and Slytherin Boys, so for sure I would.

I’ll write for all of them, but I’ll only do headcannons for Draco and Blaise. It’s more so just a personal preference. Almost five years back now I had a different platform where I pretty much just wrote for the two and the twins, so I’d just rather focus now on writing for the other characters. I’ll write long and short fics for everyone else. But nothing too detailed for the duo.

If you have anything specific that you want with them then I’ll definitely work on it after I’ve finished what I’ve been working on.

Or if not I’ll make some general hc for them as yanderes anyway🦖🦖

Link

[regulusblock]

teen Regulus: what's an orgasm?

teen Barty: when you fold paper to make birds and shit

also teen Evan: that's oregano, bitch

[nepentheansea]

Pacify Her

© nepentheansea all works are my own and contain mature content!

𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ・𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝑷𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑼𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆

premise: The devil was real, and you were prepared to do anything for him.

pairing: Professor Tom Riddle x Fem!Reader

warnings: dark elements, toxic obsessions, possession (but not the scary supernatural kind) smut (p in v-fingering-etc) tom riddle (his own warning) there is probably a lot more...

wc: 4.2k

a/n: this is beautiful and I don't care if you don't agree. shoutout to @demiguisemoon for keeping me company throughout this ride.

enjoy the playlist that I made for this story!

He never truly knew what you were capable of, or more so what his influence would do to you, and that was the problem. He had completely underestimated you, and that would be not only your downfall, but his as well. Pretty and pliant, that's what you were to him, the perfect match, not only intellectually, but emotionally as well. You suited him. From the moment you stumbled into his compartment on the train, down to the moment that you sat down in front of him, not a word muttered, but yet a conversation was had. You understood him, and quite frankly, he understood you, or so he believed.

No one understood him the way you did, the way that you clung to his every word like gospel. Feeding into his absurdities, but never once looking at him as if he was wrong. You supported him. Truth was you were obsessed. Incomplete and broken without him, much like a wounded bird, someone he could fix, take care of, mould into something he wanted, and you lived for it. Lived for the moments that he taught you, helped you, controlled you. The moments where he needed you and only you. At his beck and call in the late hours of the night, or for the favours that could ultimately get you expelled, for anything he wanted, and you’d do it, obediently. You were his. You belonged to him from the first moment, and though neither of you knew it, he belonged to you. 

“Is this seat taken?” You asked, slipping into the compartment faster than he could respond, but he didn’t. He pulled his nose from the daily prophet to study you. He had never seen you before, which was odd considering you were in his house, the green and silver snake adoring your breast, a Slytherin, and a pretty one at that, an old soul and kindred spirit…of sorts. There was something in the way you looked at him, that dutiful look in your piercing eyes, a look as if you could see into the deepest darkest depths of his soul, something he was certain he had well hidden, and yet what you saw didn’t alarm you. Somehow it didn’t scare him, it intrigued him, you intrigued him. He watched as you slid the door closed behind your back, before sliding into the seat across from him, hands trapped behind your back, and your head cocked to the side as you studied him. The slightest of smiles on your face. He should have known then, known what you would become to him, but he could never have suspected you to be as such.

Frail and malleable, obsessed and devoted, and you were his. His star, his pet, his property. You grew to need him, unable to do without the moments you shared with him. You found yourself lingering in the back of his classes, hoping that he would catch a fleeting glimpse of you, needing you for something, anything, to utilise you, need you. For the moments that he’d call for you in the late hours of the night, for the small favours that could leave you expelled or worse, with the promise that nothing bad was going to happen to you, he wouldn’t let it. The hours that you spent with him, soon turned to days, weeks, stealing away any moment that you could, eager to please, to be close. Somewhere in the dim candle light of his office, stolen glances, gentle touches, words exchanged. Finding yourself desperate for the after hours of study in the library, the ones where you could find him making his way from the restricted section, his pretty nose stuck within the pages of his books. Knowing you were there, dutifully watching him, waiting for the right opportunity to seek him out or for him to call for you. 

Your life had become dull. Classes lacked challenge, you found little to no enjoyment in day to day activities, your friends became distant memories, dramatic, but even your mundane routines lost flavour. All you had was him, and the little periods of time you spent by his side. At his beck and call, seduced by the ways he consumed you. Your mind, your body, and most definitely your tainted soul. He knew it too, knew that he could use you for anything his heart desired, that you would do nothing but obey him, follow blindly if he requested it of you, no questions to be asked. A perfect pawn, follower. The more eager you became, with the incessant need to do more, be more for him, he took to it. Giving you more and more to do. It had soon become a list of tasks, simple favours as he would call it. Hide this, seek out this, do this…And you did, you did all of it. 

Your blood rushed as you closed the office door behind you, back pressed against the firm wood, hands clasped behind you, as your eyes scanned the dimly lit room until you found him. In the centre of the room, sat plainly in his chair, eyes roaming your eager figure. He looked as though he sat on a throne, one of his own creation, his arms extended out on the sides of the chair, comfortable and yet cold, observant. “Did you get it?” was all he said, leaning forward over his desk, the faintest traces of a smile on his face when the stifled giggle of yours fleas from your lips. You held it up, in the palms of your small hands presenting it to him, the book he had sent you to find. Restricted, forbidden even, and you had managed it, with his help of course. “Of course.” you whispered. He beckend you over with the bend of two slender fingers, and you moved on your own volition, approaching him with such eagerness. He took the book from your palms, his fingers ghosting over your soft skin, and you wonder if it was on purpose. “Good girl.” There it was, the praise you strove for, the praise that came from him and him only. The slightest flick of his wand had the door clicking locked, as his eyes came to study you once more. There was a fascination in his gaze, the way his eyes softened to you, desperately trying to hide the hunger that he felt towards you. You had something that he had never quite found in anyone else, something that made him crave you more than he had for anyone else…and there it was, the thought that you were his and only his. 

His eyes left you, meeting the pages of the book you had stolen for him, consuming every word on the stale worn parchment. While he was entranced, devouring the text, you were devouring the sight of him, leaning over the desk, eyes droning over the pages. He was stunning this way. The crease in his brow, eager to learn, and you were right there with him, desperate to know just what held him so captivated, leaning over his desk in hopes of catching the slightest bit of the contraband he had tasked you with stealing, no concern for what could have happened to you if you had been caught. But you knew that somehow, if that had been the case, he would have protected you, always, he would be there. His eyes darted up from the page, a lustful hunger to them, but for you or for the knowledge he had been enthralled with, you weren’t sure. “Look.” he instructs, slumping back in his chair, gesturing to the page, the hints of a smile on his lips. Clasping your hands behind your back, you leaned over the mahogany desk, feeling the hem of your uniform riding up in the back, exposing yourself to him as you did your best to read what was before you, eyes focussing on the text of ancient runes. It wasn’t of much use, you simply couldn’t read it. “I can’t read it, sir.” you mutter, chancing a look back at him. His eyes were shamelessly crawling up the length of your bare legs, and to the swell of your ass. He had looked at you like this before, that strained look in his eyes, like he was in deep thought but those thoughts were ones that he would never quite say aloud, the smallest of smirks on his lips, as he dragged his tongue along them. “I see..” he remarks, slowly pulling his gaze away from your ass, to meet your much more innocent gaze. It was one of his favourite things to do. To teach you, to watch you learn from him. It gave him the sweetest sense of power and meaning. “And what would you have me do about that, darling?” He leaned forward, his eyes cold and narrowed, but that flick of amusement dancing across them.

“Read it to me?” It was a simple request, your voice strong and confident. You wanted to know, wanted him to show you, and he seemed to like the idea. Tom hummed, a sweet sound of satisfaction, as his slender fingers wrapped around your dainty wrist, pulling you down onto his lap, a gesture he had never quite done before. He was confident in his motions, calculated and collected. He knew what he wanted, and that was you. His hands remained on your hips, fingers drumming on your thighs. “Read it to you, hmm?” He hums, delicately brushing a strand of your hair away from your neck, the tips of his fingers ghosting over your throat. Goosebumps lining your skin, while his other hand trailed slowly up your bare thigh. Gentle touches that were purposeful, and well measured. Even in this, he was in control. In control of himself, and of the situation. “How will you ever learn if I just read it to you?” “Teach me then..” you blurt, your voice had never been so soft, so demanding and yet desperate. “Sir..” you add, looking back at him. His thumb had started to draw soft slow patterns on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your cunt. “Teach you….” You could see that he was mulling it over…”teach you…” he cooed in approval, a sinister grin consuming his face. “Very well, darling, teach you, I shall.” He gave a hearty squeeze to your thigh, your breath hitching and your body tensing for a brief moment in his lap, shifting your attention back to his face. Pretending as if he couldn’t see the way your eyes studied him, the way they seemed to have heart shaped iris that were only for him.  

His own gaze was casted past you, eyes scoured the pages before him, looking for something suitable to turn into a lesson. His hands still wandering aimlessly on your skin. “Here…let's start simple…” He leaned back enough, turning to look at you, his breath fanning across your lips from being so close. His eyes trailing up your features until his eyes met yours. “This rune here…” he starts, grasping your jaw with his index and thumb, turning your face, back to the book. “This rune…’othilia’ corresponds to the Latin letter…?” “o.” you state, looking to him for approval, his approval. A soft smile was all he gave you. “And what do you think it means…” His hand, resting under your skirt, had found its way to the crease of your hips and thighs, squeezing at the supple flesh, while his thumb thrummed against your clothed cunt. You found it hard to concentrate, to really look at the shapes on the page, but you had to. “Um…power, wealth?” you tried, letting out a breathy sigh, when his thumb found its way into the damp fabric of your panties, rolling soft circles into your swollen clit. You felt his lips against your ear, your head lulled back against his shoulder. “It means, heritage, possession..” he punctuated the last word with a flick of his thumb, a gesture that had a sweet moan falling from you. With precision he gently rolled his finger over your bud, nipping at your ear with each sweet sound you let out. “Focus….” he coos, drawing your half lidded eyes back to the book. “This one, ‘mannaz’,  tell me its correspondent…” Your mind was muddled. He had pulled the wet fabric away from your cunt, traipsing his slender fingers through your folds, collecting your sweet arousal, teasing your entrance as he waited for your response. “Go on…what is it.?” You hummed softly, searching your mind for what it could possibly be. “Um..it’s ‘m’ the latin ‘m’..” you whimpered, feeling the intrusion of a single digit slipping into your sopping heat. He was rewarding you, with each correct response you gave him. “And what does it mean?” 

You weren’t sure how much of this he really thought you could handle, not with the way that his finger was slowly thrusting in and out of you, his thumb languidly massaging your tender clit. He was watching you, his own gaze lidded, dark. Hungry. He was enjoying this, enjoying the way that he had you, pulling answers from you with simple touches. “Don't make me stop, what does it mean?” he teases, and yet somewhere in the pit of your stomach, you knew that he would. That he would leave you high and dry at a moment's notice. Your eyes had fallen closed, summoning all of your strength to answer him, as he slipped another finger into you, curling them against your sweet spot, just to feel your breath hitch and your body shutter in his grasp. You could feel the way that his cock had hardened beneath you, kept from you by the confines of his trousers, and it did little to help you focus any, it was cruel. “It means…ma-man?” you gasped out, his pace increasing. His lips met the side of your neck, tenderly kissing every bit of exposed skin that he was presented with, careful not to leave a single mark on that delicate skin of yours. “Very good..” he coos, his hot breath felt on your neck and ear. His fingers toyed relentlessly with your aching cunt, his thumb circling your clit gently, and his lips littering chaste kisses to your exposed skin. He had quickly given up on the lesson at hand, now far too consumed in the way that you were writhing happily in his grasp, soft sweet sounds escaping past your lips. Your back arched into him, your head resting on his shoulder as you lost all coherency. Lewd sounds left you like a sinful prayer, trickling past your lips with no real power to stop them. 

You whined, feeling the emptiness in your cunt as he pulled his fingers from you, only to have them brought up to your chapped lips, as he slid not one but both fingers into your mouth, pressing down on the pad of your tongue. A silent order, to taste yourself, to clean up the mess that you had made, and you did without hesitation, closing your lips around them, letting your tongue lap up any and all of the arousal that coated his fingers. He cooed, sweet and simple praises, between delicate chaste kisses to your neck. His free hand wanders the expanse of your neck, down to the top of your blouse, deftly popping the buttons one by one. His touch was featherlight, a mere ghost over your skin, and such a thing allowed for goosebumps to litter your skin. His thumb circles your nipple through your thin bra, smiling against your neck as it perks at his touch. He loved the possession he had over your body, the way you would let him do whatever to it as if it was his own, and you would argue that it was. That it belonged to him, that you belonged to him. 

You weren’t sure when it changed, the suddenness of it all, but you found yourself being gently laid down against the hard polished wood of his desk, your back draping over the materials he had been studying, and your skirt pushed up your waist. His body hovered over yours, his hands gliding up under the blouse that he had worked open, greedily exploring the exposed skin, his head ducked and lips ghosting over the spot his hands had touched mere seconds ago. Your eyes had fallen shut somewhere along the way, relying on your other senses completely. Gentle kisses, soft bites, and languid movements of his tongue as he dragged it up your sternum and neck, taking in the sweet smell and taste of your delicate skin. You arched into his touches, soft sweet sounds escaping you at every one. Each of your senses flooded with nothing but him. His lips were pending over yours, a silent acknowledgement, that everything would be on his terms, and you were okay with it. 

He didn’t bother to kiss you, and you didn’t request it of him either. 

Tom made quick work of removing his trousers, before his hands slid up your thighs, fingers ghosting over your cunt, teasing you just enough to keep you present in the moment. He hooked his fingers over your panties and pulled them aside, the cool air hitting your bare cunt, a soft hiss escaping your lips.  With his free hand, Tom wrapped his slender fingers around your chin, using his index and thumb to pull your face up to his. His eyes were cold, animalistic desire dwelling past the dark shade of brown. He tilted your head down so that you could watch the way his swelling cock slid into your tight cunt, forcing you to understand that he owned you, now in body as well.

Your mouth hung open in a silent gasp, the unrelenting feeling of him stretching you out was nothing shy of pain, but a sweet sweet pleasure. He watched your face, mocking the way you fell silent, with a sly smirk to his perfect lips. He forced you to watch every sinful inch of him disappear deep into your greedy cunt, time and time again. He wanted you to understand, to grasp the claim he had on you. You were being rewarded for your diligence, for your obedience, and he wanted you to know that you were his, only his. No one else could touch you like this, that's what he was saying to you. 

Tom let go of your face, as he gripped your hips, jerking you towards the edge of the table. Your hands fall back to support you, arching your back slightly as you watch him with lidded eyes. As he moved, his pace picking up with each passing moment, you began to lose yourself to the delicious drag of his heavy cock, your sinful mantra of moans and whimpers filling the dark empty spaces of his office. His fingers gripping onto the soft pliable flesh of your thigh and hip was bruising, another simple yet effective reminder of who you belonged to. 

He watched each little tick of your face, each pleasure filled twitch of your lips as you fought off a smile at the feeling of him, taking in each little puff of air that left your parted lips, each pant and moan of satisfaction. He coaxed nothing but the best out of you, building your release at his own desire, his own pace. Your head fell back, your eyes falling closed as you did. You were consumed by the feeling of him and your body was reacting to it in the only way it knew how. 

You felt his hand leave your thigh first, before feeling it wrap around your throat, his long slender fingers wrapping around the curve of your jaw, as he willed you to look at him once more. 

“You keep those pretty little eyes of yours…on me,” he whispered forcefully. There was no room for mistake, you would watch him as he possessed every part of you. He controlled it all, and you’d let him, you’d let him do it forever. 

That's when it all changed. 

He had been sweet seduction, and the thought alone drew you closer….until she came along. Professor. Hawkethorn had never been his match, not the way you were. She didn’t understand him, she didn’t see him for what he truly was. She had fallen trap to his charm, and that was only the surface. You watched it happen, your late night sessions with him faded, he seemingly didn’t need you as much, and he gave not even the slightest inkling why. He said nothing, entertained nothing, did, nothing. His time seemed occupied, but not by you, by her. Selvine Hawkethrone, the new history of magic professor. 

Fine, checkmate. He didn’t want to see you? then you would make him. See you at your fullest, see that you were always there, that you had never left, and more importantly, that you were still very much his to possess. 

He needed to see you, not her. He had no business with her, she wouldn’t do the things that you did for him, you were certain of that. She was only a disruption, a threat to what you guys shared, and she had to go. You wanted to show him your devout loyalty, the extremes that you were willing to go to keep him, to protect him, to *serve* him, and so you would. 

You sat in *his* chair, his office dark and cold, nothing that you minded, as you waited…waited to hear the sound of polished heels clack on in the smooth stone outside the door. You pulse steady as the door opens, a small sliver of light filling the room. 

“Tom?” her soft voice echoed off the shelves of books, as she warily stepped inside. Once the door was shut, you waved your wand lazily, the candles that surrounded his office springing to life with a dull crackle. Her eyes met yours immediately, and they widened almost as if they had seen something they shouldn’t have. She looked fearful. You had a crazed look in your eyes, as you looked over her in silence. She was pathetic, dressed in her best clothes as if she was expecting to meet Professor Riddle, and that's exactly what you had told her, in your little letter. Told her to meet you here, that you desired to see her, all pretending to be your dear dear professor, and she fell for it. Pathetic. 

“You don’t deserve him….” you said, your tone hollow, as you watched her flinch slightly. “Did you really think that he would want you? Send for you? Come on Selvine…you have more sense than that…” you continued, pulling yourself to stand up, walking around the desk, your fingers taunting the flame of the candle. “Professor…you were never going to be his match, his equal…he is destined for great things and you were never going to be the one to help him fulfil that…your just….” You gestured to her with the tip of your wand as if to say something cruel, your face contorted in disgust. “Weak, you're just plain….ordinary…” you said, a mock tone of pity, your face in a frown. 

Selvine said nothing, but reached for her wand slowly, not sure what to expect from you, but you saw it…”ah ah ah, don’t do that..” you warned. You were now pointing your wand directly at her, your grip firm and unwavering. You take a deep breath, tired of this moment…Selvine opened her mouth to say something but you were quick to silence her, ”Save it professor, you shouldn’t touch things that aren’t yours.” 

You flicked your wrist and a green jet of light bursted out of the tip of your wand without remorse. You watched with glassy, transfixed eyes as her lifeless body crumbled to the floor with a thump. The simple unforgivable curse stealing what small pathetic life she had out of her. She was gone. Dead. you lowered your wand to your side, and stood there, slightly shocked by what you had done. 

Tom had slipped out from a dark corner of his office, one where he had stood, watching the entire thing transpire before his eyes. His cold gaze watching you as he approached. Your eyes snapped up to meet him, startled, and unaware that he had been watching the entire time..but that meant that he had seen it, seen the lengths you would go to just for him. You had used the unforgivable curse, for him, something that you had never done before.  

You felt yourself soften, at his appearance, as he stepped over the lifeless body like it was nothing but scum beneath his foot as he approached you. Gripping your chin like a child as he pulled you to meet his gaze. He almost looked pleased, a small sense of approval in his tepid gaze.  

“You can't tell anyone, Professor, I did this for you...she was a threat, and I took care of it, I killed her for you...for us.” you pleaded softly, scared that you had upset him. 

The darkness he lurked in had always been seductive, and when he held out his hand to guide you, how could you say no. You followed, eyes never leaving his, entranced by the beauty of it all, the beauty of the power and knowledge that he possessed. And he was going to share it all with you. It was then that you knew, the devil was real, and you were prepared to do anything for him. “I won’t tell anyone, it's our little secret.”

[deadghosy]

DARK VAMPIRE! TOM RIDDLE X HUMAN! READER

Vampire! Tom who grabs you, pinning you down so he can bite his fangs into your neck.

Vampire! Tom who would absolutely rubs his cold hands up underneath your shirt while biting you. He loves the smell of arouse from you.

Vampire! Tom who does nothing but stalk you in the dark. Watching you closely as he trails you down like predator to their prey.

Vampire! Tom who drinks your blood but stops when you hit his bicep hard.

Vampire! Tom who licks your neck if some of the blood drips.

Vampire! Tom who would kidnap and hide you from the world if you dare disobey him once.

Vampire! Tom who stands by the quote “if I can’t have you, no one else can.”

Vampire! Tom who does everything in his power to wait for you to say yourself you want to be a vampire with him. But his patience is running thin my love.

Vampire! Tom who understands you have human needs, you don’t feed off of blood. You need water and food. So expect for him to hilariously have a plate of your favorite food and drink in his hands when you wake up. 

Vampire! Tom who grips you away from anyone he deems as competition. His eyes burning holes into the person’s brain. Whispering in your ear that he will kill that person if you don’t start avoiding them. He honestly will make sure you learn your lesson.

Vampire! Tom who whispers in your ear of how he will be your lord, how you will beg for him to give you mercy when he takes control.

Vampire! Tom who goes crazy when he can’t seem to find or spend a little time with the love for the rest of his life. He goes absolute batshit crazy. Hexing people for the knowledge of where you’ve been.

Vampire! Tom who did one time kill a student in Hogwarts for trying to date you when clearly you were taken.

Vampire! Tom whose word is know to be kept. So please be aware when he says you’re his. Cause you are.

Vampire! Tom who is genuinely a good husband for the future for you. But please control your vampire before he kills anyone else.

Vampire! Tom who sometimes show you his soft side. But not enough.

Vampire! Tom who will marry you before graduation. Making you his fiancé/fiancée so everyone knows you will be the dark lord’s spouse for the future.

[prettybabybaby]

Dark ideas for riddle brothers !! Mattheo x reader x Tom - noncon

You are a gryffindor and you piss both of them off . When they get to know that you are the one who pisses both of them off they make a plan to fuck you so hard that you know your place .

reader’s house is not mentioned

rating: ¡ 18+ only ! ¡ minors do not interact !

content: noncon

your intelligence puts even tom riddle to shame and you know it. you walk around with an air of superiority that rivals his own. your charm exceeds what his carefully curated persona could never quite reach. the picture perfect girl who would undoubtedly have everyone at her feet but still just out of reach.

mattheo was one of them. despite how much he tried to hide it, his fascination was clear. tom found the situation ridiculous, even telling his brother as much. but mattheo hadn’t listened. he never does.

you rejected him coldly, not even pretending to feel remorseful about it. mattheo’s pride had been hurt and he had hated you ever since. suddenly tom’s cruel remarks felt justified. they felt true and real.

the idea was mattheo’s, the plan coming to mind after yet another smug stare from you as you walked by him. you were taunting him, making sure that he knew that you knew how much your rejection had affected him.

tom was disinterested at first, finding no benefit in such an act. was he willing to risk his own reputation for the brief satisfaction of your dejected face and a tight squeeze around his cock? was he really willing to risk it all for pleas for remorse and smudged makeup? humiliation of being bare and vulnerable before your two greatest enemies while they used you brutally… mercilessly…

the appeal quickly grew, the next time mattheo made the offhanded comment tom wasn’t fast to shoot it down. tom made no effort to stop mattheo from creating a plan, but, he did offer a few pointers. tom also didn’t scold mattheo for his choice in timing, one that was way past curfew. tom asked for no confirmation, he simply showed up.

mattheo was already waiting, fingers anxiously tapping his thighs as he searched for his brother. when he saw him, a smile grew on his face. mattheo’s plan wouldn’t have worked without tom’s corrections, something tom made note of as he helped mattheo carry your body away.

soon enough, tom’s eyes roamed your chest as the buttons of your blouse were open wide and your tie, that was usually worn snugly around your neck, pressed and perfect, was pulled loose. tom watched as your chest bounced with each brutal thrust of his brother’s hips, lust and loathing fueling his movements.

mattheo put in a show better than you did. groans and moans tumbling from his lips freely, loud enough to block out the sobs that left yours. tom found it dramatic and unnecessary, though, he couldn’t say he hated the noises of frustration mattheo’s mocking drew from you.

even after mattheo, you were unbelievably tight. perhaps it was the lack of want, the sensitivity as your body screamed at you to give it a break. none of that mattered to tom. the only thing on his mind was the clenching around his cock, the slippery glide along your walls as he pushed in and out.

mattheo made sure to bother you again, clearly not through with you after one measly round. rough slaps to your cheeks, pinching your cheeks together meanly, forcing you to watch as tom fucked you. you simply sobbed as you watched his cock disappear between your legs, a painful burn in your core following each movement.

[artytaeh]

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

can i disagree with some of this fandom's perception of tom riddle? surely he won't be a sweetheart like lorenzo, but...

┊ i also don't think that he'd be so intentionally rude, so cold towards his significant other. i honestly think that if tom ever becomes infatuated with someone, he would take pride into getting this someone to belong to him. willingly! 🌷

౨ৎ i guess i'll never know the reason why you ♡ ͡

love me like you do; that's the wonder of you . . .

... tom riddle is a smart man, you see. love, romantic feelings, to act like a couple and all of those things— these might be the most confused that tom riddle will ever be, because otherwise, he's an extremely competent, capable young man.

tom riddle does get confused, a little lost on what to do; he'd torture himself by discreetly watching couples at hogwarts interacting, maybe make some research (= read novels. romantic novels. it was a discovery of a new medieval torture for tom, seriously, to waste his precious time reading some sappy crap like that.) to better understand how to handle you.

how to deal with you.

how to cherish you, so that you don't ever entertain the idea of leaving him. you see, tom is a practical man— he'd rather not commit mistakes, because to fail, means to spend extra time fixing his error and doing the same thing twice, so that this time, it's done correctly.

applying this ideology to you, it means: that 1) tom riddle prefers to always keep your heart happy, so that you don't have doubts about him; so that 2) he won't have to take twice the effort to conquer the city of your heart again.

some think that tom wouldn't like petnames. to be fair, tom would frown at many of those, at first— thinking that they were cringe, disgusting or a psychological way to acquire diabetes. however, when tom gets used to this stir on his heart, those loud heart beatings that cloud his rational thoughts...

... it's excused to say that tom's preferred petname to call you by, is 'my love'.

tom reasons that's because it isn't a lie at all. well, you're certainly his— and because of you, because of your existence, of this enchanting aura of yours; that's how tom riddle discovered love. there are few things that tom is attached to. even fewer that he shows to care about, to have affectionate feelings for; one of them is the basilisk. others are his favorite books, all of them first editions that were troublesome, but endlessly worth it, to get. nevertheless, at the peak of the pyramid, there's you.

you. oh, how your name sounds so angelic, so right, so perfect on his lips. sometimes, tom doesn't call you by any petnames, so that he can mouth each syllable of your name, tasting the acquaintance of the name of his darling on his lips.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

he might call you by other petnames, depending on the occasions:

darling; which, in his opinion, is fairly one of the best petnames to be shared between a couple. because you, reader, are endearing to his eyes— a darling, really, whose presence immediately softens (ever so slightly, because tom riddle still is tom riddle himself, and that mask of stoicism of his won't be broken without putting up a fight.) those previously icy, cold eyes of his.

dearest; if tom is trying to reason with you. unlike what many think, tom would take a deep breath, put on that handsome smile of his, and use a gentle tone to convince some words inside that pretty little head of yours. 'dearest', he calls for you— so gentle, so full of affection; as if reminding you that you are the object of all of his affections and desires. you, his dearest, the one he adores the most. the reminder of such a fact easily melts you in less than a few seconds, which tom sees as too perfect of an opportunity to lose to convince you much faster.

doll; if you look rather ravishing to his eyes, whenever you dress up even prettier than other school days, and wear such pretty clothes and many accessories to further optimize your beauty. beautiful, perfect, flawless; like a doll. a carefully made doll. a doll, that sits there quiet and all pretty, obedient, doing as she's told.

( i must warn you, though, that tom won't entertain silly nicknames from you. tom riddle will ignore you, march forward without sparing a glance at you, not even acknowledging your presence should you insist on the matter. tom won't answer you, should you refer to him by such hideous petnames. you could be about to fall from a mountain, and yet tom won't help you until you address him properly. baby? he's not a child, for salazar's sake! pookie bear? now that might make tom riddle himself throw you off from the mountain's edge— call him such a monstrosity like that, and tom will lose every drop of faith on you. you're a lost cause. )

if he had to choose; yes, tom would prefer if you were obedient. contrary to popular belief, tom riddle is quite fascinated with sweet personas. to have a sweet significant other, who's all smiles and considerate words— it's so, so much easier for tom.

between a brat that trashes around for his attention, and a sweet girl who gently tries to indulge (purely out of concern, wanting him to share his problems with her!)— tom would rather choose the latter.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

quite the darling you are. to boldly take tom's hands between your own, with that frown of yours. no, you're not being whiny; yet tom can see that there's consideration, there's time spent on that little brain of yours, that tries to find the right words to speak with him.

then, when you voice your concerns— that tom spends some time alone from time to time, seemingly hiding something from you, as if to shoulder all of those burdens all by himself...

tom takes a deep breath, swallowing his temper. trying to keep his composure, because tom hates having to justify his actions. with a smile, tom puts on a facade, with a too much convincing tone: "oh, dearest, no. i'm flattered that you noticed that i haven't been having the best days; however, your presence makes everything better. in fact, being with you now, makes all of my problems seem insignificant in comparison."

should his sweet words not be enough to keep your nose out of his business, then tom takes a step further. holding your hands, tom squeezes them between his fingers, gently at first, tightly when you're too stubborn: "my problems are mine to solve, my love. i would never put such a heavy burden on you; your smile is too precious for me to ruin."

sweet, sweet words; some that tom mentally grimaces at, but knows that are necessary and effective with you. talking as if he's doing you a favor on keeping you away from his PERSONAL thoughts and goals.

and that's how tom pushes you way. gently, smoothly— so that you'd have to rethink this moment over and over, for you to understand that once again, tom riddle has tricked you; tricked you into doing what he wants. because without a fight, without you daring to bother him further... tom riddle made you go back to your own business, and leave his alone.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

however, when tom is in a better mood and less stressed with his own goals, he'd find it funny, entertaining even, if his darling tried to be bossy. to pout, to want some sort of control. it's hilarious for him.

so, he indulges you. well, sort of— tom tricks you into thinking that he gave in to your commands. to your whims. in a sneaky way, tom makes you think that you're in control!

the one who's in charge is you. yes, darling, of course. he pats your head, gives you that charming smile of his. with such a serene expression, tom briefly raises his eyebrows, mocking you inside that devious mind of his, as he says: you are absolutely right, dearest.

tom riddle doesn't really mind that you aren't consciously aware that the one in charge is him. that's fine; no, seriously, go and brag about it!

because ultimately, tom knows that what he says, goes. that with some sweet words of his, a little touch here and there, that you'll soon see the reason and comply to whatever tom wishes you to say, to do, to behave.

he does is so smoothly, that even for the outsiders, well... it'd be hard to realize that all that tom riddle is doing to you, is nothing but manipulation. and you're oh so easy to manipulate— it was a challenge at first. now, it's more of a chore; tom barely blinks through it. he knows you so well.

however, so that you whining and getting used to think that you're having things done your way, tom throws some praises and compliments here and there.

touching you chin, gently brushing his thumb on your lower lip; tom's gaze intentionally softens, as he praises: 'you're just too good to be true, my love.', whenever you act accordingly. when you do as he says.

brushing a strand of yours away from your face, so that he can further admire the physical features of his beloved: 'i sincerely can't take my eyes of you, darling, when you are so good for me like this. pardon the way that i stare— you're too beautiful.'

and with even more sincerity, tom riddle isn't sure where his manipulation ends and his genuine care for you starts; tom isn't sure, whether his words are now a muscle memory of his, or if he truly means them.

but he never allows himself to discover the roots of this thought. to actually find out if he truly is such an emotionally shallow person, or if his weakness for his darling is deeper than he realizes. no— this is one of the few matters, in which tom would rather remain ignorant about.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

because tom is such a gentleman with you...

opening doors for you. walking two, three steps ahead of you as soon as the entrance is upon sight, tom will open the door for you; his arm keeps it open for you to enter or leave the room first, and so those grayish-green eyes of his watch you, as you pass by. then, tom will enter just behind you, following your lead, quickening his steps to go back to his rightful place by your side. he lies to himself, saying that he only does such a small gesture to effortlessly keep you by his side. tom would be telling the truth, if he doesn't interrupt the thought that he enjoys to escort you— because, deep down, tom genuinely appreciates your company. every step, every minute you spend together. 'here, love. please, continue; what did you tell your housemate, then?'

tom riddle refuses to let you carry heavy books. so, as if it was muscle memory and so smoothly that you can't do anything about it, tom will carry your books along with his, as soon as you leave the classroom. it's not that he finds you useless, incapable; rather, tom riddle perceives you as a... preciously delicate, fragile little thing. most of the times, tom does it so nonchalantly that you don't even notice; you're too distracted by your conversation, to notice how tom carries your stuff, busying his arms. however, should you notice or worry that you're being a burden to tom in any way; tom shakes his head at you, waving off this silly insecurity of yours: 'i know you can carry them, beloved. however, allow me to do it for you. i am your boyfriend, am i not?'

offering his hand for you to take, whenever there's a higher step to be climbed up, or tricky stairs on your way. tom will do it too, to give you some kind of support, should you jump off of a particular high edge. whenever you wear high heels, tom would be specially careful with you— he offers his arm or hand for you to take, walking in a much slower pace than usual, so that you won't overexert your feet. we can't have his darling getting hurt, now can we? no bruises, no pain, no redness on your skin undesired by him, nothing to interrupt the lovely time you're spending together. 'take my hand, my love; it's quite high for you. that's it, darling, good girl.'

whenever you're about to sit, tom grabs the back of your chair, pushing the seat backwards for you to take, then helps you settle closer to the table. only then, will tom take his own seat in front of you. it's something that becomes so, so common between both of you, that sometimes you find yourself taking a few more seconds to sit down, whenever you hang out with your friends; unconsciously, you'd wait for tom to gently guide you to your seat. oh, you're spoiled.

leaning down to get the material you accidentally knocked out; if he's not quick enough to notice, then tom will keep his hand on the edge of the table, so that there's no chance for you to hit your head. 'quite the klutz, aren't you, darling?' — with a lighthearted tone, so that he doesn't come by as mean, tom couldn't help but to tease you just this time, — 'next time, let me get it for you, dearest. now, careful with your head.'

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

... and because he's always so soft-spoken with you, well, how could you listen to your friends, in case they notice that maybe tom riddle isn't as a good guy as he lets on? that perhaps, he is a little controlling. that maybe, he's too overprotective of you.

→ and of course, being the fool you are, you stroll to the lion's cage (or should we call it snake?) and deliver all of this information on a silver platter for him.

SAT SIDEWAYS ON HIS LAP, tom settles your thighs to rest on top of his, while a hand is respectfully kept there; caressing the smooth skin, rubbing circles on the bare skin of your thigh, just inches underneath the hem of your skirt.

tom riddle keeps up a serene expression, sometimes humming in acknowledgement, to show you that he's listening to this ramble of yours. if it's a topic that seems to have bothered or upsets you, then tom will keep another hand on your lower back; he soothes you with small movements of his fingers.

oh, how funny. so this ravenclaw friend of yours, told you that it isn't normal for tom, your boyfriend, to comment whether you roll up your skirt during summer? that such a thing is being controlling? now that's something tom will have to deal with. perhaps, he'll only have to frame this irritating ravenclaw girl; have you ever thought that maybe, she's interested in tom? that must be why the ravenclaw is filling your pretty little brain with such absurd exaggerations of his doings. how lucky you are, to have an attentive boyfriend that easily notices when a friend of yours has bad intentions.

( for obvious reasons, tom despises amortentia. he finds it disgusting, but more than that, tom riddle perceives amortentia has a rather pathetic tool to get someone's affection. tom will never use it on you— he doesn't need to! however, he will get his hands on one, to use it on that nosy, insufferable ravenclaw friend of yours. only to prove his point. so that this nosy girl acts disgustingly flirty around tom, so that you'll come running back into his arms, crying about such an awful friend and that once again, tom was right. you apologize to him, for doubting his assumptions. you end this friendship and cut ties with the ravenclaw girl. and tom, well, tom riddle has once again rid both of you from troublesome outsiders. )

ah, now this is entertaining! so these friends of yours, housemates, have noticed that tom has been keeping an eye on you. now, dearest, that's rather silly, don't you think? so what if you seem to find the same familiar faces in the same space as you? do you really believe your friends' theories? that he sends his followers ''friends'' to follow you around the school? darling, hogwarts is quite enormous and spacious, yet all of you study together in the same castle. it's inevitable, to see familiar faces, here and there.

( however, tom will blame his followers. how difficult can it be, to follow, to stalk a girl like you? and to go unnoticed as they do that? sincerely, tom stares at them with such disgust, such disappointment, that his followers tremble under his gaze— the future dark lord even mentions the idea of getting rid of them. of throwing them away. after all, why would he need such useless, such incompetent boys like them, if they can't follow simple orders correctly? it's excused to say, that you'd never suspect being stalked again. 1) because tom reassured you that such a thought is rather silly; and 2), because these followers of tom riddle do a much better job. out of fear. )

oh, darling, what silly friends you have! sincerely, it seems like you only attract observant delusional friends, or attentive paranoid companies!

in the end, it doesn't matter if your friends tried to alert you about tom's toxic concerning flaws traits. because in the end, at night, he will have you nuzzling on his lap, holding you so tenderly; all of these warnings disappear into thin air, when tom makes you laugh at such accurate ridiculous accusations.

in conclusion: no, tom riddle would never be rude or snap at you; not if he can help it, not if he can keep his temper in check. he believes that the best way to keep you so effortlessly devoted and infatuated, to keep you willingly by his side, is to treat you with care (even if sometimes he has to manipulate his way into it). how lucky you are, to have such a obsessive caring boyfriend!

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— i'm endlessly faithful to theodore nott. however. the first to kick the entrance door to my heart was tom riddle. and what a man (i can't fix him. i would let him ruin my life him tho!), ladies and gentlemen.

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

[ana-reblogsposts]

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬

Oneshot | Tom Riddle | ༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.| | Tom Riddle Masterlist | Masterlist

Tom Riddle x reader where they're bookworms both of them and they either read to each other to sleep or just sit in silence entangled in each other reading books - from a request from @beekeepingageissome.

Y/N stood in the doorway of Tom's room, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she watched him from afar. They had a ritual of sorts, spending their evenings together in his cozy room, lost in the pages of their favorite books. Tonight was no different, yet something caught her eye as she entered the room.

Tom was reclined on his bed, completely engrossed in a book, and her heart skipped a beat when she realized it was the same one she had in her hands. It was her all-time favorite, a story she had read countless times, finding solace and adventure within its pages. But what made her eyes widen with surprise was the sight of numerous annotations scattered throughout Tom's copy.

She couldn't help but grin as she recognized his meticulous handwriting, and her curiosity piqued, she approached the bed. Tom looked up, a smirk playing on his lips as he caught her gaze.

"Enjoying the view?" he teased, his voice soft yet playful.

Y/N's smile widened as she shook her head, "I'm just surprised to see you reading the same book as me."

Tom shifted on the bed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I figured if it's your favorite, it must be worth exploring," he replied, patting the spot next to him.

Without hesitation, Y/N crawled onto the bed, settling herself beside him. Y/Nopened her own book, but her attention kept drifting to Tom's copy, where he had marked passages and left little notes that made her heart flutter.

She couldn't resist peeking at his annotations, each one making her grin wider. "Y/N would like this," "Just like Y/N," "I bet he's Y/N's favorite." It was endearing, and it warmed her heart to know that he had thought of her while reading.

Tom's smirk deepened as he noticed her reaction, and he opened his arms, silently inviting her to cuddle closer. Y/N gladly accepted, snuggling into his chest as they intertwined limbs, their bodies fitting together perfectly.

As they read together, Y/N couldn't help but steal glances at Tom, feeling overwhelmed by the love and affection he had poured into those simple annotations. She pressed a tender kiss to his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her lips.

Tom returned the gesture, his lips brushing against her cheek as he whispered, "Continue your book, love. I want to talk about it later."

Y/N blushed at his words, her heart swelling with affection. She nuzzled closer to him, feeling grateful for this moment of intimacy and connection they shared. Together, they lost themselves in the world of their books, knowing that their love for each other only deepened with each turned page.

[beegomess]

T.R. || Loving you forever

Summary: Tom and you made a pact that they would be together forever, and you are willing to do so. Even if you have to trick some people into having him in your arms again.

Warnings: The story will take place in the 5thº year.

You, a brilliant student of Slytherin, carry with you an emotional weight and a story that few can understand. The connection you shared with Tom Riddle transcends mere friendship or romance; it was a union of souls who promised a future together, challenging not only conventions, but also the timelines themselves.

The promise made with Tom was more than words; it was a sealed pact with a love so intense that it seemed immortal. When the spell cast by him projected you forward in time, it was not just an escape, but a way to preserve this connection beyond death and forgetfulness. Every day at Hogwarts, while you keep your Slytherin student facade, it is a silent battle to hide the true weight of your heart — the pain of being separated from the one you love most and the persistent hope of meeting him again.

Current life, with its challenges and interactions, is constantly filtered through the memory of the past. Every step you take is calculated, each action is measured with the intention not only to fulfill your mission, but also to keep alive the memory of the love that once defined your existence. The fact that Tom's diary is the key to his resurrection makes his quest a mixture of duty and desire, an effort to restore what has been lost and, at the same time, a longing for a future where you can be together again.

As you approach Harry Potter, you are not only in search of a magical object; you are struggling to unite two worlds - the present and the past, love and obligation, the real and the imagined. Every moment you spend trying to gain Potter's trust is a step closer to realizing a promise that was made in simpler times, and also an attempt to reconcile what was left behind with what can still be achieved.

Behind his calm smile and the calculated strategies, there is a soul marked by an eternity of longing and a heart that still pulsates for the love that has never been faded. The mission is your redemption and your purpose, and its success is the key to restoring a piece of a past that you have never been able to leave completely behind.

His "frendity" began in a Herbology class. You were still someone unknown to him, which certainly helped you.

Harry began to sympathize with you some time ago, seeing you as an unexpected ally. It didn't take long for an obstacle to emerge in his path. Hermione Granger began to suspect her true intentions and decided to warn Harry about you.

One afternoon, while you were talking to Harry in the hallway, Hermione approached with a serious expression, which made you say goodbye and move away discreetly.

- Harry, are you sure you can trust her? - Hermione asked, her voice loaded with concern. - She is from Slytherin, and this should be taken into account.

Harry looked at Hermione, with a confused expression.

- I see no reason to suspect her. She has been very helpful. - Harry replied, trying to seem convinced.

Hermione crossed her arms, her eyes fixed on Harry with a determined look.

- Besides, she is also born a sucker, just like you. It wouldn't be a bad idea to have someone from Slytherin around. But don't worry, I know the reputation of the house is not the best. - He paused, as if expecting an argument.

Although it was not true that you were a "born sucker", the lie that you faced prejudice in Slytherin had a convincing effect on Harry. He believed it quickly, making his task easier.

- I just want you to be cautious. - Hermione insisted. - Even if she seems friendly, Slytherins have a reputation and, in my experience, it is always better not to let your guard down.

Despite Hermione's reservations, Harry continued to open up to you, but his interventions added a layer of tension to his plan. Maintaining Harry's confidence while dealing with Hermione's vigilance was a constant game of balance. Their meetings were planned to look spontaneous, always with a welcoming smile and an offer of genuine help. In each interaction, you calibrated your behavior to be useful and reliable, so that Harry did not suspect his true intentions.

[...]

On the night of that same day, the library was wrapped in an almost reverential silence, illuminated by the flickering light of the candles and the soft glow of the magic lamps. The tall bookshelves projected mysterious shadows, creating an environment that combined comminess and mystery. Harry Potter was sitting at a table, immersed in a thick book, but his expression showed distraction.

You approached with a calm and strategic posture, your clear goal. Harry was distracted, and you noticed a subtle glow emanating from his bag, which was partially open on the table. With a trained look, you immediately recognized Tom Riddle's diary, shining slightly under the light of the library.

- Harry! - You started, your soft and friendly voice - It looks like you're having trouble with this material. Do you need help?

Harry looked up at you, his expression mixing relief with a twinge of suspicion. He moved slightly away from the bag, as if unconsciously protecting the valuable object it contained.

- Oh, it's you. - Harry replied, a little surprised. - Actually, I'm having difficulties with it. I would appreciate it if you can take a look.

You smiled and leaned over to examine the book, your hand sliding discreetly in the direction of the bag. The diary was there, clearly visible through the opening. You tried to stay calm while adjusting your position, trying to get closer to the bag without drawing attention.

However, Harry seemed to notice the movement. His eyes fixed on his hand next to the bag and he hardened a little, his lips closing in a thin line.

The silence of the library was interrupted by a slight sound of something falling on the floor. Tom Riddle's diary, which was visibly exposed in Harry's bag, slipped from the opening and fell with a deaf thum on the tiled floor. The sound made Harry lean abruptly to pick up the object, his expression of concern quickly turning into tension.

He bent down and caught the diary quickly, his fingers squeezing the object firmly as he straightened. His eyes were now fixed on the diary, and there was a shadow of nervousness on his face. The tension was palpable, and he made a visible effort to hide the book in his bag carefully, trying to stay calm.

Taking advantage of the moment, you leaned a little further forward, watching the scene with a look of genuine concern.

- It seems that this is very important to you - you said, your voice loaded with a carefully calculated empathy. - What is this book? It seems to be causing a lot of tension.

Harry looked at you with an expression of surprise and discomfort. He hesitated for a moment, clearly struggling to decide how much to reveal. The shadow of distrust still hovered in his eyes, but the sincerity in his tone seemed to have created a gap.

- It's just one... a personal item. - Harry replied, his voice a little hesitant. - It's nothing to worry about.

You gave a slight understanding smile, trying to soften the situation and keep gaining your trust.

- I Understand. Sometimes, we all have things that we prefer to keep to ourselves. - You said, tilting your head in a friendly way. - But if you need someone to talk to or help with anything, I'm here for that.

Harry seemed to relax a little, although there was still a pinch of caution in his eyes. He clearly appreciated the offer of support, but was still struggling to balance trust with distrust.

- Thank you. - Harry said, his tone a little more relaxed, but still careful. - It's good to know that.

You took advantage of the moment to take a step closer, but without invading his personal space.

- No problem, Harry. The truth is that I'm here to help, and I hope we can work together to overcome any difficulty. - You paused, watching him carefully. - If you need anything, especially if the book is causing problems, know that you can talk to me.

Harry gave a slight nod, his gaze still a little cautious, but grateful. The diary, now again hidden in the bag, seemed to be a source of great concern for him, and his answer indicated that he was starting to open up a little more.

As you walked away, a feeling of satisfaction and relief mixed with the awareness that distrust was still present. Every step towards Harry's trust was a victory.

[...]

The next day, Hogwarts was immersed in an atmosphere of expectation. A timid sun filtered through the windows of the Great Hall, casting soft rays of light on the students' tables. The murmuring conversations and the usual clamor were interrupted when an urgent announcement echoed through the corridors.

Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were summoned to the Flitwick professor's room due to an unexpected situation: the House's Academic Performance Report was severely outdated and there was an alarming discrepancy in the grades of several students. Hermione, known for her perfectionism and dedication, was immediately involved in solving the problem, while Ron, although initially reluctant, was dragged into the task due to his friendship with Hermione and his desire to help her.

The situation was carefully orchestrated by you. A quick manipulation in the academic records and a subtle error in the calculations had been enough to create a distraction that involved Hermione and Ron for several hours. The confusion generated and the need to correct the data urgently caused them to focus intensely on the task, leaving Harry Potter alone and unprotected.

With Hermione and Ron busy, you saw the perfect opportunity to get closer to Harry. The day was clear and calm, and the library was almost deserted. Harry was sitting at one of the tables, studying alone, his concentration interrupted only occasionally by looks of concern.

In the following hours, you adopted a meticulous surveillance strategy, remaining discreet and observant while following Harry Potter's movements. At every moment, you him through the corridors of Hogwarts, keeping a safe distance so as not to raise suspicions. His goal was clear: to wait for the right moment to intervene and ensure that he could follow Harry's footsteps for Tom Riddle's diary.

The library, where you were often nearby, became your observation post. On some occasions, you infiltrated the common areas and spent time in strategic corridors, always with a watchful eye on any sign that could indicate the boy's plans.

It was on a particularly quiet afternoon, while you were leaning discreetly against one of the walls of the corridor near the women's bathroom, that something caught your attention. Harry was alone, his hesitant steps echoing down the deserted corridor. He seemed to follow a voice that no one else could hear, an expression of curiosity and confusion on his face.

The scene aroused your interest immediately. Harry approached the women's bathroom with a fixed look, almost hypnotized, following the inaudible sound. This place, in particular, carried an emotional weight for you. It was the same bathroom where you and Tom Riddle had spent intimate and secret moments during your youth. It was also the entrance to the Secret Chamber, a vital place for his plans.

You hid in the shadows, watching carefully as Harry stood in front of the bathroom door. He hesitated for a moment, looking around as if trying to understand the origin of the voice that called him. His heart beat faster when he saw his interaction with the family environment. The old walls and dusty mirrors looked like silent witnesses of the past, preserving the secrets and history of his love with Tom.

Harry entered the bathroom, and the door closed smoothly behind him. You knew that could be the moment you were waiting for.

With your mind boiling with excitement and a renewed desire to achieve your goal, you waited patiently. The anticipation of finally being able to recover his beloved Tommy and the certainty that the moment was approaching filled his heart with a mixture of hope and anxious expectation.

After a few minutes, you decided to follow Harry. Entering the women's bathroom, nostalgia enveloped him when he remembered the moments shared with Tom there. Each step he took brought her closer to the achievement of his goal. Harry's presence there meant that something important was about to happen, and you were determined to ensure that the plan to bring Tom Riddle back was realized.

You moved forward, your breathing controlled, moving with the grace and caution of a predator. When he entered the bathroom, he saw Harry standing in front of a sink, murmuring words that activated the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. A smile of satisfaction appeared on his lips. The way was open, and you were ready to follow Harry and recover the diary that meant so much to you and Tom.

Harry looked around one last time, then disappeared through the secret entrance. Without wasting time, you followed him, descending through the depths of the Secret Chamber, each step bringing you closer to your final goal.

Nothing could stop you from bringing your boyfriend back, not even the famous Harry Potter. After all, you had promised Tom eternity together, and you were willing to do anything to fulfill that promise.

With the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets open, you followed Harry carefully, keeping yourself in the shadows so as not to be detected. The narrow passage widened as they advanced, revealing a path of stones flanked by statues of imposing snakes. The air was humid and cold, and the smell of mold impregnated the environment.

The tension increased with each step. The statues of snakes, with their eyes fixed and mouths open, seemed to watch you as you advanced. The dim light reflected on the damp stones, creating a gloomy and mysterious environment. In the background, an immense sculpture of Salazar Slytherin's face dominated the space, his stern gaze seeming to judge anyone who dared to enter that sacred place.

You stayed in the shadows, watching as Harry approached the center of the chamber. His heart beat faster when he saw Gina Weasley lying on the floor, apparently unconscious. Harry ran to her, kneeling next to her and trying to wake her up with evident despair.

- Gina! Wake up, please! Gina!

You saw the frustration and fear in Harry's eyes as he insisted that Gina wake up. He shook her slightly, trying to resuscitate her. But before he could make any progress, a familiar voice echoed through the walls of the chamber, making his heart jump.

- She's not going to wake up.

You recognized the voice instantly. It was Tom Riddle, or rather, a projection of his youth. He emerged from the shadows, his imposing presence and cold look fixed on Harry. Time seemed to stop as you watched the scene unfold, the presence of Tom filling the camera with a sense of power and authority.

Harry stared at Tom with a mixture of confusion and determination.

- Tom... Tom Riddle. - Harry stuttered. - What do you mean she won't wake up? Is she...?

- She's still alive, but by a thread. - Your acquaintance and beloved Tom Riddle was finally there.

Tom's footsteps approached Harry, who stared at him with a certain fear.

- Are you a ghost?

- A memory preserved in a diary for 50 years. - Slytherin corrected it.

Tom noticed Harry's wand fallen and picked it up. Harry still seemed worried about Gina, a little distracted to realize.

- She looks cold. Tom, and the basilisk? - Harry looked up and noticed his wand in Tom's hands. - Return my wand, Tom. - The boy used an authoritarian voice.

- Why? You won't need it. - Riddle replied simply.

- Look, we have to go. We need to save her. - Potter insisted.

- I don't think I can do that, Harry. - He paused. - While Gina gets weaker, I get stronger.

It was at that moment that you decided to get out of the shadows. Harry, surprised to see you there, tried to position himself to protect her.

- Y/N, get out of here! He's dangerous! - Harry shouted, the concern evident in his voice.

But you just smiled and took a few steps towards Tom, ignoring Harry's warning. Her eyes fixed on the familiar and beloved face, Tom's expression softening slightly when recognizing her.

- Y/N? - Tom murmured, a mixture of surprise and recognition in his voice.

You nodded, the emotion evident in your eyes.

- Tom... Finally. - you said, the voice choked. - I spent 50 years looking for you, waiting for this moment.

Harry watched the scene, just shocked and confused.

- Y/N, what are you doing? He's trying to hurt Gina!

Tom reached out, and you took it without hesitation, feeling the familiar warmth of your touch.

- Y/N... my dear. - Tom said softly, his eyes fixed on yours. - I missed you so much. Every second away from you was an eternity.

- You have no idea how long I waited for this. - You answered, the emotion overflowing as I hugged you.

Harry, still processing the revelation, was trying to find a way to save Gina and prevent Tom's plans. But Tom's presence by your side and his growing power made it clear that you would not let anything or anyone interfere in your reunion.

Tom held his hand firmly, his dark eyes full of determination. Harry, still trying to understand what was happening, took a step forward, desperate to save Gina and understand the situation.

- Y/N, that's crazy! He's dangerous! - Harry begged.

You looked at Harry, without showing regret, just firmness. Tom, with Harry's wand in hand, turned to you, a cold smile on his lips as if admiring her.

Harry, confused and distressed, continued to look at you and Tom, paralyzed next to Gina's unconscious body. His expression was a mixture of shock and despair.

- Why, Y/N? How can you do that? - Harry managed to murmur, his voice full of frustration.

Tom gave an enigmatic smile.

- Harry, you can't understand. Y/N and I share a past that transcends any notion you may have. We were colleagues at Hogwarts, and our love was something deep and immortal. We made a promise of eternity that nothing and no one can undo.

Harry looked at Tom in disbelief.

- But... how did she not appear in the memories I saw? - Harry questioned, still trying to understand.

This time you answered coldly.

- Tom showed you only what he wanted you to see. There are many things you don't know, many hidden truths. I've always been by your side, even when you couldn't see it. - You pause, but then it continues. - Thank you for making things easier, Harry.

Tom began to resume his complete physical state, his presence solidifying as he again became an imposing and real figure. Harry, paralyzed next to Gina, watched feeling the failure on his shoulders.

_______________________________

masterlist

xoxo, bee 🫶🏼✨

[doremimosasol]

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Theodore Nott

Tom Riddle

Lorenzo Berkshire

[rotthepoet]

Come Home (Dark!Mattheo Riddle x Reader)

Notes; DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Dark!Matty has been plaguing my mind and I need an outlet omg. I lowkey rewrote some lore for this, so essentially the battle of Hogwarts takes place but Voldemort's influence still lives on through Mattheo, who basically runs the new Knights of Walpurgis(The slytherin boys). Everyone is evil, all good business. 

Warnings; again, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Dark!Mattheo, Murder/death/gore, stalking, kidnapping, mattheo might highkey be ooc but its fine, dubcon(reader REALLY wants him but like.. morals?), oral(F! And M!), mention of fem masturbation, predator/prey dynamic, spitting, degradation, lowkey breeding kink?, piv, lowkey porn with plot, Stockholm syndrome if you squint, at least he kinda gets a redemption arc

This one goes out to my beautiful @nottswitch i hope dark!mattheo comes to life and fucks us both <3

Word count; 6.3k

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

The bitter breeze in the frigid air pricks through my thin shirt as the diner door swings open and shut again as a customer disappears into the icky black of our winter night. I stare out after him, a farewell unspoken on my lips as I cast my gaze towards an orange, flickering lamp post lining the parallel street, and I realize how truly cold it is inside the shabby eatery. 

As I tug the embarrassingly short, mandated skirt I'm forced to wear, I can only think of the comforting and safe walls of Hogwarts, my home only months ago, yearning for the soft crackle of a fireplace and the ambient chatter of portraits lining the walls. The muggles had nothing as interesting, nothing as familiar as the light of the silver moon passing through the large windows of the great hall. Nothing as comfortable as my own home back in England, with my mother and fathers smiling faces. Nothing as comfortable as the safe, unscarred arms of the once-kind boy I loved what feels like so long ago. 

Being on the lam for about a month now, I've been skipping towns and laying low where I can. It’s not often, but when I'm able to stay in a town for longer than a week, I take pitiful muggle jobs, my current being to take orders at a local diner, “famous for their milkshakes”, although fame must mean four regular visitors in this nowhere town. 

Jean, the gray-haired woman who owns the diner I work at, leans over the counter and points at the analog clock hanging on the wall. It reads almost 1:30, and it finally sets in how tired I am. She hums and looks me up and down, standing in the middle of the floor, standing stiff as a board while holding a broom. She clicks her tongue and shakes her head, a small smile gracing her aged face. 

“I’m sorry, I zoned out.” I apologize, leaning the non-flying broom against a nearby booth, and smooth out my wind-swept hair. 

Jean just shakes her head, “Go on and head home. You did good today.” she hums in approvement, tossing me my room key that was previously hanging on a hook in the kitchen. “Be careful out there, the papers said another storm is coming.” she warned, but a storm is the furthest thing from my mind as I push open the door. Silver light flashes across the street and my heart nearly stops beating, a pit forms in the bottom of my stomach. My eyes squint, finally adjusting to the lack of light, catch the face of a mannequin in the window of a shop. I let out a breath I don’t realize I’m holding and relax as I realize the moon had simply caught the silver details on the faux person. I turn on my heel and carry on down the dimly lit pavement towards my motel. 

It’s just as run down as everything else in this town, water stains stretching across the ceiling like swatches of muddy paint, and the hideous carpet crunches underneath my feet. It isn’t much. It is nothing, in fact, but a roof over my head and sanctuary from the ruthless dangers outside. 

I drop each article of clothing from my body onto the yellowing tile of the bathroom floor, stepping into the freezing cold water of the shower. I shudder, goosebumps racking through my body as I allow the water to wash away the grease and sweat, I collected today. I run a baby blue loofa over my skin, suds washing away with the now lukewarm stream. I close my eyes, and take a deep breath, and the smell of metallic rust from the old pipes fills my nostrils. 

Blood. So much blood. It covers my hands, and my knees, my face, and my clothes. I practically wade through a pool of it, the dark hallways of that god awful manor stretch on infinitely, and the smell of rot and decay suffocates my senses. My heart nearly beats out of my chest as his strong arms wrap around me as I collapse to the floor, and I'm hyper aware of the many motionless bodies lying at my feet. His lips brush against my neck, rough and wet, and I wonder if they have blood on them too. I wouldn’t put it past him. Malicious is not a word I thought I would ever use to describe my lover, the man I thought I was going to marry one day, but like many other things before, he proved me wrong. His warm hands caress the soft fat of my thighs, slipping underneath the loose fabric of my shorts, and he leans into my ear. “They’re all gone now… Let’s go take a shower.” 

I release a shaky breath and turn off the water, letting it drip from my head and down my face, mingling with salty tears. Wiping my face with my wet palms, which did nothing in retrospect, I sigh. I can’t go back there; I can never go back there. It isn’t safe anymore. He isn’t safe anymore. Come on, I can’t keep feeling bad for myself. This is ridiculous, and as I step out of the shower and dress myself, I feel a newfound sense of determination. Sleep, for the first time in months, finds me easily with her warm embrace. 

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

As most things in my life do, my high spirits came to an abrupt end. Smoke fills my lungs, but there's a strange taste to it. It’s not a fire, no, it was tobacco. A smell I was all too familiar with. I sat up in bed, and my eyes met the inky black eyes of his silver, skull mask. My breath catches in my throat, only for me to cough out the smoke from his cigarette.

He couldn’t have found me this easily. It’s a bad dream, it has to be. Merlin forgive me, God save me, tell me this is just a dream! The mask on his face shifts a little, clearly amused at my coughing fit. “Have anything to say?”

Say anything. Stop gaping at him like a fish, you are a powerful witch, almost top of your class in DADA. Almost. Second place, notably. Right behind him.

Mattheo Riddle.

A sob racks through my body, tears falling down my cheeks before I even realize, and I’m paralyzed in place. Half of me wants to crawl into his arms, to beg for forgiveness, to beg for him to take me home. Home to that wretched, dark house, with blood seeped into the wood. With blood-stained grout on the kitchen tile. With blood-stained walls. So, so much blood. The other half of me screams at me to run. To run, to run, run, run, RUN! For god's sake, run! 

I push myself out of bed, fast enough to catch Mattheo by surprise. He flicks his cigarette to the side, letting it roll along the carpet floor. My hand reaches for my wand resting on a table beside the door as I duck out of his reaching arms, and I stumble to my feet as he lunges after me. I throw open the door, pulling it shut in his face as he screams for me.

“You bitch! Come back here!” he screams through the wood, struggling with the now sweat-slick doorknob. 

The door splinters open with the blast of, “Bombarda!”, but I scramble down the wet, cold streets, my bare feet scratch against the rough pavement as I sprint, thankful that it had been just warm enough to not freeze. I duck down another street, pulling out my wand to apparate elsewhere. I rack my brain for a safe location. Hogwarts? I might be able to, but I don’t want to risk splinching. My job? It might separate me long enough to get my shit together. 

Air is knocked out of me as a heavy body slams into mine, knocking my wand out of my hand. A heavy, black boot pins my wrist to the ground, and a silver mask that was not Riddle’s leans over me. He laughs under the mask, but I can’t tell which of his mentally fucked goons had caught me. I reach for my wand, but another set of boots kicks it out of my reach. Leather gloved hands grab my hair and lift me up to face the group now circling me. 

“She looks pitiful, really. Like an angry kitten.” An Italian accent draws next to my ear with a mocking snicker, and I thrash to kick Theodore Nott anywhere I can, luckily landing a solid blow to his shin. He curses in pain, and hisses something inaudible underneath his mask as he throws me back to the ground. The rough concrete scratches against my exposed skin, drawing blood from the soft flesh. I yelp in pain, landing at the feet of someone else. A black, steel-toed boot presses against my cheek, pushing my head to the side as I watch another figure ominously approach. I would recognize my Mattheo’s casual amble anywhere, and he peered down at my stray wand laying at his feet.

I don’t even have time to protest as he steps his boot onto the wood, sparks fizzing out around the magic object as it snaps under his weight. A choked sob escapes me as he approaches, my eyes wide with horror and betrayal.

“Enough of this, love. It’s time to come home,” He drawls, kneeling down to my level and lifting my chin to meet his empty gaze. “Be a good girl and come back to me, I’m tired of this little game of yours.”

“Fuck. You.” I spat on the silver of his skull-like mask, noting the wild look in my own eyes as the saliva slips down its reflective surface.

Mattheo groaned and tugged off his mask, and my breath caught in my throat. What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t think this awful man who betrayed me, threatened me, hunted me down, can still be attractive. Then again, he was still the man I had loved–part of me still does love– all those years ago. The handsome face I fell asleep looking at, the doe eyes I found comfort in. He looked roguish now, his brown curls were longer than the last time I had seen him, and he had a new scar running across his cheek from our last encounter. My mouth goes dry as he leans into my face, his breath hot against my lips. 

“I’ve missed you, love,” He practically purred, pressing his dry lips against my trembling ones. I whine against him, wriggling my body underneath the heavy weight of whoever was holding me. 

Mattheo groaned, gripping my chin harder, “You used to be so obedient, pet, but don’t worry. I’ll fix you.” he mumbled, kissing my forehead as I felt his wand pressed to my temple. He mumbled an incantation against my skin, and I felt my body go limp before my eyes closed themselves, and sleep consumed me. 

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

It was cold, damp, and reeked of copper and mold. My body laid on the floor, sore and unresponsive to my will to move. As my senses came back to me, I tried climbing to my feet, but a chain tugged my ankle back to the floor. I tumbled to the stone floor, scraping my hands against its rough surface. I whimper in pain, and only as I go to wipe my hands on my pants do I realize I’m completely nude. Horror racks through my body as I take in my surrounding and own appearance. I know I'm back in that old house, that old, disgusting, horrible house of horrors, and tears fall from my stinging eyes again.

I don’t know how long I laid on that floor, shaking from the cold as I sob into the air, screaming and cursing with conviction, damning Riddle’s name to an eternity in hell. I scream, and wail, and cry until I tire myself out, my voice breaking into nothing but a hushed plea for freedom. 

I fight sleep, sitting myself against a wall near my chain, breathing deep into my burning lungs. My eyes drift closed, but I will them open as the loud creak of a door alerts me. It’s only then that I notice a stairwell, casted in a white light with the newly opened door, and my heart nervously skips a beat as a tall shadow approaches the stairwell. The stairs creak under his weight as he descends to what I can only infer is a basement, and I stare up at his form.

Mattheo wasn’t nearly as scary like this, dressed in black slacks and a loose white shirt. Had he not been so threatening, and the reason I was chained to the basement floor, I would have swooned over the top buttons being undone. Perhaps I still do get butterflies in my stomach, but that may just be nausea. 

He looks down at me with an expression I can only describe as mock sympathy, clicking his tongue softly. “Down here for less than three hours and you’ve already managed to hurt yourself,” he scolded me, shaking his head in disappointment, “My clumsy girl, what am I going to do with you?” 

The smile he cracked made me want to claw his eyes out, or kiss him, and I worry that he may have slipped me a love potion. My ears ring, and my head suddenly aches with a mild pain, and Mattheo smirks.

“Like the shirt, do you?” He teased, kneeling down to my level. I curse under my breath, face heating up with anger (Or embarrassment, I can’t really tell), of course I forget he’s a legilimens. “Drop the act darling, I know you’re going to crack eventually. Save us both the trouble so I can finally bring you back to bed.” His warm hand tenderly caressed my cold cheek, and I fought the urge to lean into the comforting touch. “I hate seeing you down here like this, but you need to remember your place.”

My eyes snap back to his, and I whip my head to the side to bite his hand. He scowls and rips his hand away, reeling it back and back-handing me across the face. It knocks my breath out of my chest, and the rings on his fingers cut my cheek. Metallic blood drips to the floor. 

“Fine. Stay down here and bleed out for all I care.” He snaps, rubbing his sore hand as he turns on his heel and storms up the stairs. The door slams loudly behind him, and I’m engulfed in sudden darkness.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

My cheek and hands had long stopped bleeding the next time he came back, staining my skin red with its slick. My head lifts as the door opens again, and light makes my eyes dilate painfully. Mattheo trudges down the stairs, his head hanging low, and a small white box hanging from his hand. He approaches me and kneels at my level. I meet his gaze, glaring into his soft eyes.

“Darling, you know I didn’t mean to hit you, right?” He mumbled, holding my chin to twist my cheek towards him, his rough actions bringing tears to my eyes. “I was just so worked up, and you were pushing too many buttons, you’ll forgive me, right?” He asks hopefully, but I don’t answer him.

He sighs in defeat, opening the little box and retrieving a cloth and bottle full of a clear liquid. My eyes go wide, and I scramble backwards as far as the chain allows me to. “No, No, Mattheo please don’t-” I plead, heart racing as he looks at me with confusion.

A smile breaks across his face, “Oh darling, no, no, it’s just alcohol.” he laughs a bit, a deep sound that makes pleasant shivers run down my spine and too an embarrassing heat between my legs. What the fuck is wrong with me? He approaches me again, dousing the cloth with the solution before taking my hands. He shushes my soft whines as he presses it to my scraped palms, which makes me hiss at the burning sensation. “Good girl, there we go. That’s much better, isn’t it?” he asks as he takes a roll of gauze from the box and wraps each of my hands. He lifts my palms to his lips, pressing a storm of soft pecks and kisses to the gauze and skin. My face heats up at the gesture, and I force myself to look away. He was always so chivalrous for a monster, though it hurt to call him that even after everything.

He presses the cloth to my cheek next, his thumb tracing calming circles into the opposite cheek. “Such a pretty girl, my pretty girl.” He whispered, placing a bandage over my skin. Just like my palms, he kisses my cheek, though much slower and intimate this time. “I don’t want to hurt you, you know?” he promised, leaning over my trembling body. He looked down at me, eyes drifting past my collarbone, and he whistled softly. “A sight for sore eyes… and It’s all mine.” He smirked, leaning down as he supported his weight on his forearms. His chapped lips press suspiciously soft kisses to my neck. A loud thud coming from upstairs makes Mattheo groan and pull away. He looks down at me, wide eyed beneath him, “I’ll be right back, love, don’t worry your pretty little head.” He hummed, patting my cheek as he stood up. 

He casts me one last yearning glance before he shuts the door again, much softer this time. I lean back against the stone, releasing a breath I didn’t know I was holding, and try to ignore the wetness between my thighs as I drift off to sleep.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

I’m startled awake as the basement door slams shut, and heavy footsteps descend to my prison. Mattheo storms into view, and before I can even get a word out, he grabs me by the hair and pulls me up to my knees. He sneers down at me, and my head is spinning from the sudden switch up.

“Incompetent assholes. Have to do everything myself around here,” He mumbled, not really speaking to me rather than himself. He doesn’t loosen his grip on my hair as his other hand tugs apart the button of his slacks. 

My eyes go wide with shock, and he pulls my hair, forcing my chin up to look at him. “Open your mouth,” He demands, his voice lacking his previous warmth, and I'm reminded that this is not my Matty. My lip quivers and I shake my head slightly. Mattheo pulls his half-hard cock from the confines of his black briefs and pulls me by the hair to his tip. “I don’t have time for this attitude, I said open your mouth.”

I don’t even have a moment to react before his leaking tip is pressed against my mouth. He pushes his way past, groaning as my wet lips engulf his mushroomed tip. He pulls on my hair again, forcing himself further into my warm hole. “There you go, not so hard, was it? Now suck.” He orders in a tone I’ve never heard him use in bed before, and as he bucks his hips towards my face, I whine in protest while the ache returns to my lower stomach. My jaw relaxes on its own, familiar with the girth of his hung cock. An almost inaudible whine slips through my throat, and he groans at the tightness. One more tug lets me know his patience is running thin, and I reach my bandaged hand up to stroke the rest of him while I focus on his tip.

Mattheo bites back a moan, his hips stuttering as I descend further down onto his length. His leaky tip presses against the back of my throat, and he holds my head in place while he rocks his hips further into me. My nose presses against his groin as he slips down the back of my throat, and his grip moves from my hair to my throat, feeling my neck bulge with every movement. Saliva drips past him and down my chin, dribbling to the floor in thick droplets. He shudders as my throat tightens around him, nearly swallowing the head. 

“Yeah, yeah… Fuck baby. Keep going for me, almost there,” He mumbles, rocking his hips faster than before. I whine around him, my own hand slipping down to the ache at my core. My fingers gingerly brush against my clit, and the soft moan I try to let out makes Mattheo’s head roll back. Hot spurts of his seed shoot down my throat and my glossy eyes go wide at the feeling.

“Swallow,” Is all he says, and obediently, I do. He pulls my head off of him, his cum mixing with the drool in my mouth when it drips down my chin. He grips my face between his index finger and thumb, collecting the mess with a swipe of his finger and pushing it back into my sore mouth. “All of it.” 

When I satisfied him, he pushed me back to the ground, and I yelped in pain as I collided against the stone surface. “When I come down here, I want you on your knees waiting for my dick. Understand?”

I nod weakly, and he smirks down at me. “Good girl. Keep it up and maybe I’ll bring you back upstairs.” He says, before pulling back up his pants and running a hand through his hair. 

When he leaves again, I’m left with an unbearable, wet mess.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

With nothing else to do in my makeshift prison, I sleep a lot. And when I wake up, I force myself to sleep again. I sleep God knows how long before the door opens again, and Mattheo trudges down the stairs. I scramble to my knees, honestly fearing what might happen if I disobey him, and when Mattheo catches sight of me, he smiles. 

“There’s my pretty girl.” He hums, holding a platter with a bowl of something steaming, a slice of some sort of bread, and a bottle of water. My stomach growls as its divine aroma fills my senses, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve eaten. 

Mattheo sits down in front of me and puts the tray between up. He rests his elbow on his knee and leans into his palm. “Eat,” he orders me, gesturing to the platter with the wave of his free hand. “Or would you prefer I feed you myself?” He asks with a smirk, watching how I shift from my knees to rest on my hip. I grab the water bottle first, chugging half of it in one go, before I subconsciously offer him a sip. What’s mine is his. Was his. Was. I look up at him, taking the water and sipping from it. I tore my gaze away before he noticed.

“I don’t want to stay in the basement anymore,” I mumble, dipping the bread into the soup before taking a bite, shivering at its deliciousness. Mattheo sighed and shook his head. “You know I can’t do that yet. You ran away, darling. I can’t trust you won’t do that again,” He explained, reaching his hand across the way to rub my knee soothingly. I sigh and push the tray away, my appetite gone. Mattheo frowned and moved the tray away, leaning over me. “Princess, c’mon, don’t be this way.” he hummed, pushing me onto my back. My heart rate quickened, and he definitely noticed. “But you’re right. I’ve been neglecting you… That’s why you ran away right? My poor girl was lonely and scared.” he hummed, pressing his lips to my collar bone. “Not anymore. My attention is solely on you, I promise.” 

My head rolled back a little, lolling onto the floor as he trailed his kisses down my sternum, stopping at my breasts to gently knead them. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I reached for his hair, tugging gently on his loose curls. He groaned in response, his lips finding my perked nipple and taking it into his warm mouth. His other hand slipped down my soft stomach, dipping between my thighs. Out of reflex, I squeezed them together, and Mattheo parted from my tit. He sat back on his haunches, using his strong, scarred hands to pull apart my thighs and admire my glistening, needy cunt.

“It’s been all about me, huh? Need to show my girls some love.” He mumbled, before dipping his head down. His warm breath fanned across my puffy lips, and I shivered at the breeze. He didn’t waste a second more, drawing a long, needy moan from my lips as he licked a long strip from my hole to my clit. My hands tangle into his hair again, and my mouth falls open with pleasure. “Fuck, Matty–” the nickname fell from my lips without a second thought, and he practically purrs against me. His hands grip my thighs, pulling them over his shoulders as he dives nose deep into my pussy. My back arches off the floor as a string of curses flies from my lips. I feel his wet appendage push against my hole, and I clench at the feeling as his nose brushes against my sensitive bud. I tug on his hair again, “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!” I mewl, my edge fast approaching as Mattheo swirls his tongue over my clit. He sloppily makes out with my lower lips, pulling me closer to the edge with each passing second, and I’m in near tears when there's a loud crash up above us. 

Mattheo practically roars in anger, pulling his soaked face away from my aching cunt, the knot in my stomach loosening at the sudden separation. I whine and sit up, trying to pull him back down, but he stops me with a firm hold on my wrist. “Stay here and don’t make a sound.” he ordered, “I need to take care of this, and I promise as soon as I’m done, I’ll come right back.”

Anger flashes through me, and I bite back my cries. “Don’t you dare leave me like this, Riddle.” I snap, and he gives me a warning look that makes goosebumps prick at my skin. He leans in, pressing a wet kiss to my lips, and I can feel him shiver as I lick my own arousal from his lips. “I’ll be right back, princess. Be good for me, and we can talk about a reward.”

And with that, he left yet again.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

I was starting to get sick of his mind games, switching up his attitude, finally giving me relief before ripping it away from me. Fuck. What am I saying? I watched him murder dozens of people; I watched lives being taken right in front of me. I shiver at the memory and try to focus on anything else before it becomes too much to bear. 

I hate how he makes me feel. Sometimes he’s my Mattheo, and sometimes he’s nothing but a parasite attached to a face I can’t help but love. My back hits a wall, and I can’t count how long he’s been gone. I miss his warm, familiar touch, but anything was better than the cold, dark basement. I close my eyes, my lip trembling as I reach my hand down, fingers hesitantly spreading my folds. Cold air hit my wet lips, and I gasp at the feeling. I brush my fingertips against my hole, whining softly at the pleasure that coursed through my body. Maybe I'm sick in the head, maybe I hit my head too hard one day on the run and never recovered. Maybe I never really hated Mattheo. 

What is wrong with me?

I don’t move when the door opens again. I glare at him, anger coursing through my veins. This was not ‘right back’. As Mattheo’s black boot lands on the stone floor, my mouth goes dry. He’s weaning that stupid mask again, and that stupid costume, tilting his head stupidly at me. He approaches me in a way that makes my heart race in fear, like I'm nothing but cowardly prey between the jaws of a large wolf. 

He knees down, retrieving his hand from his pocket. Wordlessly, he unlocks the chain around my ankle, and he looks up at me. With another wave of his wand, I’m dressed in a loose tank top and shorts. It’s not much at all, but it’s better than naked. A rush of emotions rushes through my chest, and I almost gratefully throw my arms around Mattheo, but he stops me. 

“Go. Run,” He orders, stepping aside. I stare up at him in confusion, mounted to my spot on the ground. “I said run, little pet, like you want to.” He pulls me from the ground, pressing my cold body up against his comforting warmth. “Run, and if I catch you,” he leaned down into my ear, and through the skull mouth of his mask I could feel his breath fanning across my ear. “Well, I think you know what’s going to happen.”

I still don’t move, wondering if he would be less harsh if I stayed with him, but he only laughed. “Such a good girl, don’t worry,” he pulled his mask up just enough to expose his pearly white teeth. They sunk into the soft flesh just beneath my ear, “I’ll always find you. Go, now.”

I don’t know what possessed me, but my feet started moving on their own. I raced up the stairs of the basement and pushed past the door. The house was just as I remembered, dark with walls that were too tall, black cloths hung over the complaining portraits. I was disoriented in the dark, but my feet carried me through the house until I found the overtly large entrance. I pushed open the doors and ran out into the cold, snowy night. 

Frost nipped at each of my limps, and my lungs found it harder to breathe the frigid air. I ran anyway, out towards the woods surrounding the manor. I cast a glance over my shoulder, finding Mattheo staring back at me through the blacked-out eyes of his mask. I ducked into the tree line, just as he started his casual stroll towards me. Cocky bastard. 

I run for as long as I can before my lungs give out. I leaned against a tree, walking slowly into a clearing. I take a deep breath, pulling my arms behind my head to breathe deeper. Just as I find a moment of peace, a branch snaps behind me. I whip my head around, my heart racing as Mattheo approaches me. He doesn’t run, only walks towards me with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He ditched that awful mask, and I can see the smirk pulling at the edge of his lips. I stumble backwards, falling into the fresh snow. He continues his pace, unbothered by my racing heart as I scramble away from him and finally back to my feet. I don’t get one leg in front of the other before strong arms are wrapped around my waist, slipping under the loose fabric of my shirt.

“I win,” He mumbles in my ear, voice dark and raspy. It sends a chill down my spine that pools in my underwear. 

Mattheo throws me over his shoulder, ignoring my flailing lips as he walks back to the manor. “Didn’t even get a mile, love. Lost your talent it seems, or maybe you knew you’d miss me too much.” he teased, running his warm hands up my thigh, pressing a kiss to my exposed skin. 

It isn’t long before we’re back at the manor, and I thank every god I'm in good ties with when he walks past the basement. He takes me to his room instead, our room, the room where I've fallen apart under his touch more times than I can count. 

I breathe in his familiar scent as he deposits me on the bed, and I roll over to bury my burning face in the pillows. Mattheo chuckles at me and grabs my hips, pulling me back against him as he grinds his hardening bulge against the plushness of my ass. 

“You’ve been extra obedient, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice dripping with a tone I could quite place. Lust? Possession? Love? It all blurred together as he rutted his hips against me. “Good girls deserve a reward, don’t they?” he asked, before hooking his fingers at the hem of my shorts. He pulled them down to expose my glistening cunt. He spread me out along his fingers, admiring the way my pussy pulsed around nothing. He leaned in, pressing a possessive kiss to my clit, holding my hips as I try to buck away from him. 

His warm fingers trace along my thighs, sleeping between my legs and collecting the arousal that pooled there. I release a shaky breath into the pillow as his finger circles my clit, and I arch my back to present myself further. He hums in appreciation, trailing his finger further up to my dripping hole, slowly pushing his middle finger inside of me. I gasp at the intrusion, not being able to remember the last time something so long had been inside of me. I keen under his touch, gripping the sheets for stability as he slowly pumps his finger in and out of me. A moan escapes me as he curls his finger, and his thumb brushes against my needy pearl again. Mattheo adds a second finger, spreading out my tight, gummy walls. I crumble under his touch, mouth falling open and eyes going half lidded as he pulls his fingers from me. 

I hear him dropping his pants, and the bed dips behind me yet again as he leans his body completely over mine. His arm wraps around my neck, pressing me close to his chest while his breath fans across my face. The tip of his cock presses against me, and I whine at the sensation, pushing my hips back against him.

“Needy girl, thought you didn’t need me anymore.” He teased, pushing just the bulbous tip into my hole. It’s enough to make the knot in my stomach tighten, and I shake my head. “Need you, Matty, Need you so bad.” I admit, face flushed with embarrassment as he smirks. “Gonna run away again?”

He doesn’t let me get an answer out before he’s pressing further inside of me, the stretch burning pleasantly while my eyes roll back. His arm around my throat tightens, “I asked you a question, darling.” He teased, licking away the stray tear that fell from my eyes. I gasp as his cock brushes against a gummy bundle of nerves, and my head drops to the pillows. He tugs me back against him, pushing even further until he balls slapped against me. “No! No, never gonna leave again,” I promised, involuntary whines spilling from my throat. 

Mattheo pulls his hips back before drilling them back into me, “Good girl,” He grins as he sets a punishing pace, watching my face contort into pleasure underneath him. “Who owns you?” he asks, and I push back against his hips desperately. “You! You do, God, you do!” I moan, feeling my head go light from the lack of airflow. 

“God isn’t here, Love, It’s just me now.”

He drills into my pulsating hole, my back arching at his every thrust as my brain goes mushy from the pleasure. The arm around my throat pulls away, slipping down my stomach to find my pearl. His fingers are just as fast as his pace, and I can’t fight back the whorish moans in my throat. His lips attach to my shoulder, biting a possessive mark into my skin as he fucks me good, better than he ever had before. 

Tears fall from my eyes, and my hand grips his desperately as I’m worked to my edge. “Matty, Matty please…” I trail off into a string of moans, and Mattheo adjusts himself behind me. He bucks his hips into me once more, and I fall apart all over him. My pussy flutters around his cock, and he rides out my orgasm with a few last thrusts of his hips, before he spills his hot seed deep into my womb. Mattheo collapses on top of me, still deep inside as he pins my body to the bed. He hums into my neck, burying himself in my skin. 

“That’s my good girl. Let’s go take a shower.”

[bunny-1111]

Dating Matteo Riddle - moodboard

[deadghosy]

𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐍

pair: stalker!mattheo x fem!reader

genre: headcannons

Warning: slight suggestive, might be dark themes, murdering, kidnapping, and killing mentions.

inspired by @blondwhowrites 🫶🏾

Stalker!mattheo who sneaks into your dorm taking your underwear. He stuffs them in his pocket to feel closer to you

Stalker!mattheo who would kill any guy you date just so you can focus on him soon.

Stalker!mattheo who would kidnap you, break your mind into thinking he’s your savior and the only one you need.

Stalker!mattheo who could just rant about how you are his goddess and divine piece to his heart towards his friends. His friends are slightly concerned.

Stalker!mattheo who would never try to steal from your dorm room if you were sleeping. He may be a good stalker, but not the best stealthy person in the slightest.

Stalker!mattheo who does smell your underwear, clothes, sheets. You name it. The more he smells your perfume and natural scents. The better he is to track you down…

Stalker!mattheo who goes insane at the thought of someone else claiming you. He breaks down mentally, chewing the side of his mouth. He can’t help but what to break the person’s bone and their entire body.

Stalker!mattheo who would kill for you. He would die for you. Anything for you darling.

Stalker!mattheo who is obsessed with you to an extent where he may collect your toothbrush. Don’t ask what he does to it.

Stalker!mattheo who does smile when you look at him. He has a goofy smile to his face.

Stalker!mattheo who likes to think of the dynamic between you two is Hunter and prey.

Stalker!mattheo who has millions of pictures decked out in a hidden chest he bought so he can store the pictures.

Stalker!mattheo who had one time murdered a guy because he was being a douche. He can’t have that near you, not even the slightest chance.

Stalker!mattheo who watches you from afar. Breathing heavy at how beautiful you look from afar.

Stalker!mattheo who wouldn’t dare to hurt you. He can’t possibly think of hurting his princess.

Stalker!mattheo who always rushes to sit by you but never talk to you.

Stalker!mattheo who does lay in your bed when you aren’t there. Sniffing your perfume that drives him wild. He’s a sick bastard

Stalker!mattheo who could just ask you out after stalking your for years. But he gets all into a nervous wreck. You’re so gorgeous.

Stalker!mattheo who follow you from afar. Making sure you can’t see him in the shadows.

Stalker!mattheo who does pray on the downfalls of your so called “crushes.” But he might as well be the downfall when they show up missing to classes

Stalker!mattheo who watches you sleep. Your sleeping face would be the face he would wake up when he gets you one day.

[prettybabybaby]

stepdad! tom riddle would go so hard ngl

rating: ¡ 18+ only ! ¡ minors do not interact !

content: stepcest

wait you’re right…

stepdad!tom who doesn’t particularly like you, in fact he finds you irritating and spoiled rotten. he still finds himself overly involved in what you’re doing, fearing that you’re reckless behavior will impact his reputation. you appear so bold and strong but the lack of a father figure makes you want his approval even though you’re not the biggest fan of him either. he’s so cold and controlling towards you, giving you orders he expects you to obey without questions and setting rules that are nearly impossible to follow without upsetting him in some way.

when he finds out about your sexually deviant behavior his treatment only gets worse. he feels incredibly possessive over you, telling himself that he only felt that way because of your role in his plans and boy because of his sexual attraction towards you. he starts to punish you, cursing the men who dare step foot into your bedroom alone and claiming that they were only interested in you to get an inside look at what tom is going to do next.

you grow more and more sexually frustrated as time goes on, resorting to rutting against your pillow or pushing your fingers inside of yourself to get off. tom can hear you and he loves hearing how needy you get. he makes comments about his disgusting you are, telling you he heard you through the walls or he could smell your scent as soon as he opened the door to your room.

he secretly hopes that one day you’ll ask him for help.

[jaythes1mp]

Escapism

You often dreamt of them. Of how they would come and sweep you away from reality, taking you into their incredible world, where you'd fit in seamlessly among the chaos of their everyday lives. How perfectly you’d fit into their little family.

But it was all just one big vivid daydream, an illusion created by the pixels on your screen. The characters, as captivating as they were, existed only in the realm of fiction. You longed for connection, for belonging, for them. But each chapter read, each game played, each show watched, served as a poignant reminder that they weren’t real.

It hurt.

Escapism, she had called it.

They were your escape.

Perhaps it was for the best. Those who advocate for moderation have always preached that too much of anything can ruin the experience.

After all, the allure of the fictional worlds was derived from the fact that they were fictional. The very absence of reality was what made them so exhilarating, so tantalising. If you were to suddenly be thrust into that universe, the magic would be ruined. The illusion shattered. They say, after all, that nothing ruins things more than familiarity.

Maybe, in some twisted way, this was better.

It sounds amazing, it feels incredible, you want it, you crave it, and it will be all you can think about... but if you had it... you'd only wish for more.

It's a never ending cycle of want, wish and hope. A never-ending quest for a perfection that doesn't exist. You yearn for it, but at the same time, a part of you knows that if you were to gain it... you'd only be left with an insatiable desire. Because once the initial amazement and shock wears off, the reality of things would sink in. The novelty of it would fade, and you’d be left with, well, just another life.

And then what would you do?

Flee back to reality in search of the comfort of familiarity?

Search for respite in another fictional being?

What you have will never be enough.

Even when given everything you think you want, you'll still be left with that hollow feeling inside. Because when reality sinks in, you discover that what you had built up in your mind was just an illusion. A dream.

You feel full for a little while, satisfied even, but then again, the hunger pangs start, and you're back to square one, chasing that next 'high' to fill the void inside.

It's a vicious cycle. So why bother wishing for things? Why not just content yourself with the life you've been dealt?

Because at the end of the day, you're only human.

And although we often like to say that more doesn't equal better, we all yearn for that extra bit that makes life worth living. We crave those more special moments. We're not just content with the ordinary, we aspire to be extraordinary. We want to live.

We want that little bit extra. And that's not a fault.

It's human nature.

「Is it not?」

Comments, reblogs, asks, and messages are all very appreciated and encouraged!

Currently working on new fic called ‘Shallow’. Anyone want to guess what it’s about?🦖🦖

[lenoraslament]

Masterlist

Hello! Welcome to the Masterlist!

My name doesn’t matter. Insatiable Slytherin gal. Pisces ENFJ. Morally ambiguous characters are ✨

I am now taking requests. I write for Slytherin boys mainly but I can also write for Bridgerton and Gilmore Girls.

One shots are at the bottom

First are posts related to my three part Tom Riddle Fanfiction. All three parts are on my Wattpad

* indicates smut

^ indicates romance

+ indicates dark themes/angst

Lenora was cold, smart and cunning. Until. Until that night. Two mudbloods stole something from her, a piece of her she couldn't get back. She finds solace and healing in the unlikely ally of her longtime acquaintance Tom Riddle.

Wattpad Link

Chapter 9 Excerpt: Insolence +

Chapter 12 excerpt: Moment in the Library ^

Chapter 16 excerpt: Apparating ^

Chapter 20: Pleasure *^

Chapter 23 Excerpt: Malfoy Ball ^

Chapter 28 Excerpt: Good Girl ^ (*in the Wattpad chapter)

Chapters 33&34: Revenge and Satisfaction *^+

Chapter 35: Aftermath ^*

Chapter 36: Make Me Forget *

Chapter 38: Punish Me *+

Book 2 Lenora’s Love:

Lenora was Tom Riddles everything. Until he had to Obliviate her memory. Now they are brought together for the summer, as he continues to build his dark legacy the death eaters. Their love is inevitable; even with Cygnus Black trying to intervene. Will the truth out?

This book whole chapters cross posted to Tumblr but if you want to read on Wattpad

Part 1 Summary / Say Yes to Heaven ^

Lenora arrives at the Malfoy Lakehouse and leaves Tom breathless

The Rose Garden ^

Tom watches Lenora from afar much to the chagrin of Abraxas

Why Not Tom Riddle

Lenora wonders about the change in Tom Riddle not realizing she was obliviated

Hard to Resist^

Cygnus grows closer to Lenora

Firestarter +

Lenora accidentally reminds everyone just how powerful she is

Worth It +

Tom and Cygnus duel, Abraxas confronts Lenora

Flawless ^

Tom continues to confuse Lenora, Delia appears for the first time since the Malfoy Christmas Ball

Strumpets *^

Lenora catches Tom doing something unsavory, she pushes to be a deatheater

Overprotective

Lenora tries her best to be respectful and discovers something useful

Lust Potion *^

Delia gets revenge on Lenora, Tom tries his best to resist Lenora

Despair +

After being humiliated by Delia, Lenora wants to prove herself as a deatheater no matter the cost

I Love You ^+

Tom nearly loses Lenora for good.

Pain is a Price +

The long term repercussions of Lenora’s potion are discovered

High and Mighty

Tom proves his leadership while being absolutely faded.

Flowers for a Lady ^

Lenora is made a deatheater but isn’t sure what to make of this new side of Tom.

Dowries and Dark Marks +^

Tom tries to figure out how to get Cygnus Black out of his hair as they both chase after Lenora

Pillow Fight +^

Cygnus Black wishes Lenora goodbye, making her lash out at Tom Riddle

Tawdry ^

Lenora forgives Tom and then is forced to play the temptress

Make Me ^

Tension finally comes to a head between Tom and Lenora at the lake

Cozy^

They simply can’t stay away from eachother.

Crash Into Me^

Tom and Lenora continue to push and pull, Abraxas catches them

Tom Riddle the Romantic ^

Tom Riddle goes way out of comfort zone

A Proper Date ^

Tom and Lenora finally have a real date

Anchored*

Lenora wants more from Tom than his horcrux

How it Always Should Have Been*^

Tom and Lenora make love

Time Doesn’t Bow^

A snapshot into 6 months of bliss as Tom and Lenora stay together

Lying *

Cygnus Black returns, Lenora catches Tom in a lie

Disillusionment +

Lenora learns the truth of everything that happened before Tom obliviated her

I Lost You+

Tom’s proposal goes awry, Lenora gets revenge

I Hate You+

Lenora broke Tom’s heart but he gets the last word.

One shots

Tom Riddle

Hot Mess Part 1

Hot Mess Part 2 *

Infatuated

Careful What You Wish For *

Mattheo Riddle

Careful What You Wish For *

Theo Nott

Some Plumber ^*

Lorenzo Berkshire

Finally Requited pt 1

Slytherin Boys React

Perfume Preferences

How they would Overstimulate You*

Edging Orgasm Denial *

You took Lust Potion *

Romantic Moments ^

Free Use *

Dance with Me ^