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lenaswritingandstuff · 6 months ago

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Dating the Slytherin boys (+ Harry) ▪ HEADCANONS

Requested: No

Characters: Mattheo Riddle, Tom Riddle, Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Regulus Black, Harry Potter (+ y/n)

Warnings: NSFW mentions, English is not my first language

A/N: I'm not sure I like this but here we go. However I have to say I like Regulus' one so I might turn his version into a one shot one day (when uni won't be killing me slowly). This will include also the pre-dating/flirting stage as well. SORRY FOR THE TYPOS. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Enjoy! ^^

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus

Tag list for this story: @anawritez-posts @pumpkinchee @alwayslatetothefandoms

Mattheo Riddle:

His feelings for you probably confused him at first

If he falls first, he either won’t let you know or will do everything to get your attention (‘Hey, y/n, come sit here, the seat is free!”, “y/n, do you mind helping me with the homework for Snape? I can’t bloody do it”, “How about we go to Hogsmeade, just you and me?”, “you look beautiful, y/n”)

Your love for him always calms him when he gets anxious or when he’s upset, especially after his father comes back

Will tell you things he never told anyone

Would rather spend time with you than with his friends

Is terrified something will happen to you because of his father

VERY jealous, but trusts you

Despite easily getting angry, he can’t get mad at you. Even during arguments

LOVES sleeping in your arms or when you just hold him

He's crazy about your body

Loves showering with you, and we both know how it often ends

HOT, passionate sex

Will randomly eat you out without expecting anything in return (doesn't mind if you return the favor, though)

100% calls you "baby" or "love" all the time

Doesn’t care about what anyone thinks of him as long as you love him

Your love makes him feel lighter and stronger

You're his whole world

Feels bad when he hears someone criticize you for dating him

Always makes sure you don’t overwork yourself, and makes sure you get enough sleep, water and food, and comforts you when you're anxious

Holds your hands when he's anxious or stressed

Will listen to anything you have to say

Crazy about your perfume

Theodore Nott:

Struggles to express his love or feelings in general, at least in the beginning

Has never done serious relationships before, and it may cause some trouble in your relationship, as you end up believing he doesn’t care about you

It causes many fights, and the last one will be the first time he says ‘I love you’

Always goes to you for comfort

Loves sleeping with you in his arms, or cuddling, and with time he can’t sleep without you

Loves watching you sleep

Loves having you on his lap

Always gets you great gifts (even randomly)

“Well, it thought it was pretty, and…it reminded me of you.”

Will fight any guy who is rude to you or acts like a creep

Very jealous (trusts you, doesn’t trust others)

Doesn’t mind PDA at all, will gladly hold your hand or kiss you in public

Always has a hand on your waist or his arm around your shoulders

Very supportive in everything you do, even when he doesn’t understand it/isn’t really interested in it

Isn’t very good with comforting people (mostly because he's not used to it), but will hold you and listen to you as long as you need, can even give you advice/reassurance

Every compliment/'I love you' you say melts his heart and means much more to him than he shows, same goes for anything you do for him

Loves doing fun things, even if it’s just throwing snowballs at each other during winter (which ends in loving kisses, just savouring the joy of being together)

Love getting in a pool with you and playing "childish" games during summer

Any form of intimacy means A LOT to him

He's used to hooks up and "fucking" but it takes him a bit of time to have sex with you (despite being crazy about you and your body) because you mean everything to him and with you it's really making love instead of just "fucking"

The first time is loving and slow yet passionnate (eye contact at all times, hands holding, desperate kisses from him), and it gets a bit rougher and passionate the next times (but aftercare, which he isn't used to, is always on point and keeps getting better)

Is secretly very insecure, and is terrified you will leave him (especially for another “better” guy)

Craves your touch and your love but won’t admit it

His boggart is probably you being dead alongside his mother

Will tell you sweets things in Italian

Very clingy in private - and also in public with time

With you he learns to be happier and discovers a happier side of himself he didn't know he had

Loves you much more than he actually shows at first

Will often say you're all he has (and means it)

But with time, you have no reason to doubt his love and he’s the perfect boyfriend

Blaise Zabini:

Probably will court you like the gentleman he is

He doesn’t trust people easily and might be a little distant (while always polite and kind) in the early stages of your relationship

But with time he becomes very warm and smiles a lot

Always kisses the top of your hand or your forehead

Doesn’t do much PDA except for holding hands and kisses on your forehead

However in private he’ll 100% cuddle you and hold you

Dates in parks or restaurants

Get you flowers at least once a month

Will always defend you against others

One of his love languages is acts of service

Lorenzo Berkshire:

You either were friends before dating or he fell in love with you at first sight, there is no in between

Takes you on fun dates (arcade, funfair, theme parks)

Can be shy at the beginning, which will make it a bit hard for him to talk about how he feels about you

Movie nights where you two eats lots of snacks and sweets while cuddling

Always smiles when you enter a room

So supportive

Loves when you're on his lap

He has no problem with PDA

Quickly willing to meet your family if you agree

He’s a great listener and mostly gives good advices

Loves taking naps with you

Always makes you sure you get enough sleep, water and food

Won’t let you get yourself into dangerous situations

Loves to go anywhere with you, no matter the activity and even if he just follows you around

Many pet names

If you're Muggleborn or grew up among Muggles, he will totally ask you questions about the muggle world

Passionnate sex, will get rough if he hasn't seen you in a long time or if it's angry sex after he got jealous

His aftercare is the best, and he's always thankful you trust him enough to have that form of intimacy with him

Draco Malfoy:

Won’t flirt at first with you but keeps wanting your attention

Tries to seduce you with expensive gifts, and is a bit taken aback when you say it doesn’t work

Continues to get you gifts, but will make sure they match your interests/tastes, and keeps expensive gifts for your birthdays and Christmas (even though he’d like to get them all year for you)

At first he doesn't show any weakness in your presence

With you he’ll learn patience and to focus of more positive things, and also to stand up to his father

Takes you on dates every chance he gets

Will ditch his friends to spend time with you

Probably makes Crabbe and Goyle carry your bags or do things for you

So proud to be dating you, it might even make him more arrogant

Gets grumpy when jealous but after a kiss on the cheek he’s back to his normal self

Will invite you to his home and write you nearly every day during holidays

Hates it when Harry or any Gryffindor boy tries to talk to you

Surprisingly has no problem with PDA

Loves when you come to see him play during Quidditch matches

Tom Riddle:

Oh boy

It started with him admiring/watching you from afar, for a reason he can’t understand

SUPER confused by what he feels for you and why

Will probably try to get closer to you through homework or through books if he sees you read one

Will know everything about you, and will secretly follow you, saving you if you’re in danger with you never knowing who saved you

Crazy about your perfume, so much so that it makes him steal one of your clothes just to be able to smell it anytime he wants

After a while, he’ll spend most of his time with you without ever admitting he likes it

Will probably let you know his feelings for you after he cast a spell on a guy for being a creep with you

Won’t let another man touch you

Will ask Mattheo for advice to be better or to make you fall in love with him

Will do your homework without hesitation, even if he pretends that he hates it, and will leave explanations so you understand his answers/his work

No PDA except for holding hands or your hand under his arm, but will make sure to stay close to you at all times

Is a surprisingly good listener

VERY jealous, but surprisingly isn’t mad or suspicious at you

“Did you enjoy having his attention? Do you wish for me to show you how my attention is better?”

He doesn't stress over homework or stuff like that, so he finds it ridiculous when you do (learns with time to be more understanding)

Will let flowers in your room with a note on it

Pretends to not care about the gifts you get him for his birthday or Christmas but it actually means so much to him as no one ever got him any gifts before

Nothing the others say about him gets to him, but he gets angry when he hears someone say that you deserve better than him

As book!Tom who grew up in an orphanage: he's secretly insecure about his background and the fact that he’s poor, and thinks you deserve better

As Voldemort: Might be torn between continuing his goals for power or spending a simple life with you; is aware you’ll leave him if he gets on a darker path

As Voldemort’s son: would do everything to protect you from his father, and if he’s forced to get the Dark Mark, he will makes sure you don’t know

Possessive kisses

Would hurt anyone who does you wrong

Borrows money from Draco to take you on dates or to get you gifts, as he feels like you deserve the nicest things, even though you keep telling him his mere presence is enough

May feel a little bit guilty that he can’t properly show you his love like “normal” boyfriends do

Won’t admit it but considers you the only good thing in his life, and if he ever lost you he’d get on a dark path

Won’t cuddle at first, but if you wake up first you’ll find him sleeping close to you, with at least one of his hands touching you

Always notices when you don’t eat, sleep or drink enough

You’re the first (and only) person he will feel romantic love for

He has a bit of sexual experience before, but with you it's completely different - once you guys have sex for the first time, he becomes obsessed with your body and how it makes him feel

Loves fingering you

"You like it, dove?"

Even if you guys don’t work out, he won’t ever be with somebody else

Would ask your parents for you hand in marriage, but honestly it's just out of politeness, the only answer that matters to him is yours

Regulus Black:

Like Blaise, he was raised the old fashioned way

Acts coldly towards everyone except you, his tone and eyes gets warmer and kinder when talking/looking at you, and you’re the only person he’ll smile at

You were his best (and only) friend and he has been in love with you for years

He hides his feelings very well, but one day you start dating someone else (thinking Regulus doesn’t share your feelings) but he can’t bear it and confesses his feelings

Always defends you

He’ll take you on restaurants or picnics dates, always bringing flowers

Mostly fine with PDA (holding hands, hands on your waist)

Thinks he’s very lucky to have you

Probably already starts thinking of marrying you during your last year at Hogwarts

A bit jealous, but can’t stand it when Sirius tries to talk to you

Will gladly do your homework with/for you

Loves it when you sleep in each other’s arms, loves feeling you close

Loves it when you call him “Reggie” (only you is allowed to)

Will literally do everything you ask him to

You’re everything to him

Can’t stay away from you for long

Will get worried if you’re five minutes late

Always calls you “sweetheart” or “love”/”my love”

Slow, romantic sex most of the time but sometimes he needs to be rougher

Thanks to you he’ll feel lighter and he will become kinder

You’ll even make him change his views on blood purity and stand up to his parents, and with time he gets closer to Sirius thanks to that (and you)

If that doesn’t change and he still joins Voldemort, he’ll leave you a letter before going to the cavern, saying how much he loves you and how much you mean to him

Harry Potter:

Don’t expect any pet names from him, but he might create a nickname with your name (like he calls Ginny ‘Gin’ in the Cursed Child)

His love languages are fierce protectiveness, loyalty and a patience he didn’t knew he had

Has no problem with PDA because he doesn’t care about what other people think

Loves cuddles

Rarely gets mad at you, and feels guilty when he does

Mostly gets mad at you when you hurt yourself (for example during Quidditch) but it's also because he was scared for you

Hot kisses in private

Will be jealous if he sees you with another guy

He’s passionate in a lot of things he does, and it includes you and everything you do

Will fiercely defend you again anyone, can even throw hands

Gets FURIOUS when Umbridge hurts you during detention, and will cuddle you for hours and do everything he can to make the pain disappear

Knows people are mean to you during fifth year because you're dating him and he hates it

During that year the only peace he feels is when he's holding you or when you sleep in his arms (it's also the only time he doesn't get nightmares)

Very supportive

Loves getting you gifts

You make him feel SO happy, he’ll just keep smiling for no reason

Gets more and more clingy with time

Always write to you during the holidays (you always invite him to come to your house)

I'm not sure about sex while you guys are at Hogwarts but he 100% feels lust for you, there will definitely be hot making sessions when you guys are alone in a dark corner of the castle and it often ends up with you against the wall with your legs around his waist while he kisses your neck and caresses your legs

However sometimes he just can't stop himself and will eat you out (even maybe finger you at the same time), and will be proud when you come

Any act of service you do for him means a lot

You're always worried about him when he's at the Dursleys but he reassures you that he's fine

Comes to you in the middle of the night if he has a nightmare and generally comes to you for comfort or to rant

Needs you more than ever after Voldemort comes back and after Sirius’ death

Misses you like crazy during his quest for Horcruxes, and he can’t bear the thought of something happening to you

Might struggle to show it, but he knows and is thankful of how patient and comprehensive you are with him, and that makes him want to be the best boyfriend he can be

Terrified Voldemort might hurt/kill you

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riddleswhcre · 3 months ago

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────۶ৎ a whisper of serpents

tom riddle’s hissed parseltongue isn’t just words—it’s a spell, coiling around your throat, your thighs, and your will.

warnings: smut, parseltongue, slight enemies to ??, public sex.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

cool air in the slytherin common room whispered along stone walls, and the green light of the magic lamp flickered. you sat in your usual place in the corner by the fire, scratching your quill on your potions paper. the air was filled with the smell of black and sand, a smell that reminded you of tom riddle struggling with essays and exams.

tom riddle. a name that evoked both ire and admiration in equal measure. the boy was brilliant—too brilliant, you thought, the instant his black eyes darted across the room to you over the desk. he sat at his desk, posture precisely straight, lips curving in triumph, as though he knew he would best you in tomorrow's potions.

“enjoying the thrill of inevitable defeat?” he breathed, his voice cutting as effectively through the silent room like a knife.

you looked up, decided not to let him bug you. “i’ll let you know after i see the marks. should i save a seat for you in second place, riddle?”

a dark light glittered in his dark eyes, and his smirk deepened. “confidence suits you. shame it’s misplaced.” the rivalry had always been this way—sharp, laced with an undeniable tension that neither of you acknowledged. still, tonight you noticed a difference. the second time tom spoke, his voice was softer and his rhythm was more even. he muttered something very quiet and soft that you couldn't really hear.

you froze.

it wasn't english. it was something ancient, something primal.

your eyes narrowed as you leaned forward. “what was that?”

“hmm?” he looked up, feigning innocence, though the curl of his lips betrayed him.

“that. just now. what did you say?”

he shrugged, turning back to his parchment. “nothing you'd understand.”

it clicked then, the penny dropping in your brain—you'd heard rumours, of course, among quiet whispers, huddled as your classmates were on hushed subjects. tom riddle spoke parseltongue, a gift said to be rare enough that not only did they not live alongside muggle-born witches or wizards, they would think those with parseltongue came from gods. of course, you didn't, though: a tingle down the back of the spine was left as well, it seemed.

in the following weeks you became increasingly aware of him. it wasn’t just his flawless academic credentials or the ruthless intellect he wielded as a weapon. it was also the way he moved, the way his voice slithered into that serpentine language when he thought no one was listening.

finally, one night, you stepped up your game and decided to confront him late at the library. the two of you were all alone in the room, and the silence was often broken by just the sound of a flipping page.

“you know, i’ve been meaning to ask,” you said, doing your best to sound casual, “how does it feel to be a walking myth?”

tom didn’t even look up. “you’ll need to be more specific.”

you rolled your eyes and moved to stand beside his table. “don’t play coy. parseltongue.”

this time his head cocked, slight but a glimmer of interest on his face. “what about it?”

“i’ve been listening to you,” you said, your voice lower now. “in the common room. during herbology, when you thought no one was listening. you do that on purpose, don’t you?”

"maybe,” he said slickly, leaning back in his chair. your eyes met his dark eyes, and for a single moment, you forgot how to breathe. “does it bother you?”

“no.” words came out a little too fast. you cleared your throat. “well, it's unusual, but no…”

suddenly his gaze became sharp.“unusual,” he repeated, his voice lowered a shade. “that's one way to put it.”

something seemed to shift in the air between the two of you. it was slight, so fine as to be almost imperceptible; but the weight of his attention pressed against your skin, and you found yourself unable to look away.

“you like it,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.

“i didn’t say that.”

“you didn’t have to.”

from then on, tom appeared to seize every opportunity to taunt you, slipping into parseltongue during your arguments or mumbling it just close enough that only you could hear. every time, your pulse raced, your cheeks flushed, and you hated how easily he unravelled you.

one evening, you’d reached your limit.

you knew you’d find him alone in the common room. and there he was, his long fingers expertly flipping through the pages of the thick, ancient tome. he didn’t look up as you approached, but you knew he sensed you there.

“do you enjoy torturing people, or just me?” you demanded.

a corner of his mouth lifted. “you make it so entertaining.”

“you’re insufferable.”

“and yet, here you are.”

you were about to shoot back a retort, but the words failed you when he spoke again.

“come closer,” he said, in parseltongue, the words coiling around you like a corporeal touch.

your knees weakened. you hated him. you hated how much you needed him.

“what did you say?” you said, though you knew perfectly well.

tom stood, the motion smooth, predatory. he moved closer enough that there was hardly space between you, breath ghosting against your cheek.

“do you really want to know?” he said, reverting to english.

“yes.”

a certain tension crackled between you, thick and unrelenting. tom’s dark eyes were locked onto yours, the corner of his mouth twitching in the ghost of a smirk. his presence was magnetic as if he had a gravitational pull, and while all logic and reason screamed at you to step back, your feet remained rooted in place.

“tell me what you said,” you ordered, but your voice didn’t follow you with the tone.

tom cocked his head and examined you as though you were some especially intriguing puzzle. “why?” he wondered, his voice silky smooth.

“because—” your words abandoned you as he closed the distance, the faint scent of parchment and dark spice encircling you. “because i want to know.”

he smiled a little wider, a little deeper, and he tilted his head down just enough that his lips almost brushed against your ear. “do you?” he said in parseltongue, the syllables curling through you like a forbidden spell.

a shiver surged through your body, involuntary and ungovernable. heat rushed to your cheeks, and your breath caught. the language was intoxicating, the sound of it vibrating in a place you didn’t know existed.

“stop,” you gasped, although your hands betrayed you, the fingers curling into the edge of the table behind you for support.

“stop?” tom echoed, half mockingly, half in wonder. his hand lifted, lightly sweeping a single lock of hair away from your face, deliberately slowly. his touch was cold, his fingers grazing your cheek before retreating. “you don’t want me to stop.”

you opened your mouth, but you couldn't deny it: the words died on your tongue; and before you could think of anything to say, he spoke again, soft and low.

“do you know what i’m saying?” he asked, his tone nearly tender now. “do you feel it?”

“i can’t understand it,” you confessed, voice barely at a whisper.

“but you like it,” he whispered, his lips brushing so close to your ear you could sense the warmth of his breath. “you like how it feels.”

your knees buckled a bit, tom’s hand flying out, gripping your waist, steadying you. his grip was solid and his fingers sprawled over the curve of your hip as though staking a claim.

“you’re flushed,” he observed, his voice nearly clinical. “your breathing is uneven. your pupils are dilated. all from a few words.”

“shut up,” you said, not without heat, but there was a tremor running through you.

“why should i?” he dared, the grip tightening just enough to get your adrenaline-fuelled. “you’re mine to unravel, aren’t you?”

the audacity of his words sent a surge of defiance through you. you threw your hands up and pushed against his chest, though it was a half-hearted attempt at best.

“you’re insufferable,” you hissed.

“and yet,” he drawled, his lips twisting as he leaned in closer, “here you are, trembling in my arms.”

he didn't waste any time; it was almost startling intense when his hand caught your chin before his lips crashed into yours, fierce and unrelenting. the kiss was searing and desperate, like a starved man. his other hand found its place at your waist, tugging you closer until even the air dared not to linger between your bodies.

his lips were demanding, his movements precise but passionate. the hand on your chin moved in your hair and tangled in such a possessive way while tilting your head to kiss deeper. an involuntary sound came out of your mouth; it was a soft whisper surrender, which tom devoured greedily. his tongue teased the seam of your lips, coaxing, commanding, until you parted them to let him inside.

he was dark and heavy, sweet and dangerous like stolen wine tempered with poison. his body pressed against your own—firm and unforgiving. his hands moved with unerring confidence, tracing the curve of your waist, the dip of your back, as if he had memorised every contour. it was a heady contradiction between precision and raw need, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

the next you know, the edges of the common room table were cutting into your thighs as he turned you with a masterful grip while manoeuvring effortlessly; books and parchment flew in a frenzy, pages whispering against the stone floor, but it seemed like tom had no time nor paid any attention to it. the dark glint in his eyes promised that he was completely absorbed in you.

he bent you over the table, leaving you no time to protest or think. the cold surface was nothing like your flushed skin. you gasped when he started to push your skirt up with deliberate, unhurried hands. the sound of impact between his palm and your skin broke the weighty silence, leaving a swift sting and warmth behind with it.

the sensation sent a jolt through you, heat pooling, making your folds wet and insistent as his touch lingered. tom’s presence was overwhelming, his control absolute, but there was something in his movements—some barely contained intensity—that betrayed just how deeply you unravelled him.

“t-tom… what are you doing?” your voice trembles, a mixture of nervousness and anticipation slipping through as the words escape your lips. your body betrays you, shivering under the chill of the room’s air, your bare skin prickling with goosebumps. the vulnerable position you're in only heightens your awareness, thoughts swirling chaotically in your mind. tom noticed. of course, after all he’s very skilled at legilimens.

tom’s breath brushes against you, sending an electric charge down your spine. “so eager for me,” he murmurs, his voice dark and laced with something primal. the unfamiliar hiss of parseltongue wraps around the words, a forbidden melody that makes your body react instinctively. your core tightens in response, a flutter of sensation you can’t suppress.

“what… what does that mean?” you stammer, craning your neck to catch a glimpse of him. your breath hitches as your eyes meet his—a smouldering gaze fixed on you, devouring the sight of your exposed pussy. his tongue darts across his lips, slow and deliberate, his expression one of barely-contained hunger.

tom doesn’t falter. every movement is deliberate, exuding raw confidence. in one swift motion, his trousers fall to the floor, pooling at his ankles. his eyes stay locked on yours, dark and smouldering with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. the air between you is electric, charged with unspoken tension.

his hands find yours, firm but not harsh as he guides your wrists behind your back. his grip is unyielding yet measured, a silent promise that he’s in control, but not without care. there’s no cruelty, only purpose.

with a sharp, deliberate tug, the material of your tights gives way, the sound of tearing loud in the charged silence. he doesn’t flinch at the destruction; it doesn’t matter. he can just get you new ones later.

the other hand grips his cock, his hard cock at the sight of you like this. with deliberate slowness, he rubs it along your wet folds, blending his precum with the heat of your arousal. his lips curve into a dangerous smirk as he leans close, the whisper of his breath ghosting over your ear.

"be quiet for me, sweetheart," he murmurs, the words curling like silk, dark and intoxicating as they spill from his lips—in parseltongue.

a shiver courses through you, a mix of the forbidden magic in his voice and the wickedly possessive way he moves. your moans escape, unbidden, half driven by the sinful pleasure of his thrust, half by the raw power that drips from every syllable of the serpentine language.

he thrusts into you, rough and unrelenting, his desire consuming him like wildfire. pain and pleasure blur together, and you feel the force of his need—not just a craving, but a deep, primal hunger that won't be denied. his movements claim you completely, leaving no room for anything but him.

a low moan escaped your lips as the sharp mix of pleasure and pain surged through you, his thick cock stretching you in ways you never imagined. the absurdity of it all struck you briefly—getting off to tom riddle speaking parseltongue, of all things, while he fucked you so thoroughly. this felt like a fever dream, surreal and all-consuming. you turned your head to look at him, needing to see the man unravelling you so completely.

tom reached for the hem of his crisp white shirt, tucking it between his teeth as he pulled it over his stomach. the fabric bunched at his chest, revealing the sharp ridges of his abs and the defined cut of his v-line. the sight alone made you clench involuntarily around him. his piercing gaze snapped to yours, and the subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth set your pulse racing. you hated that smirk—hated how smug he always looked. but merlin, he looked devastatingly good right now.

a muffled groan left his lips, raw and unrestrained. "f-fuck, yes. just like that," he rasped, his voice breaking as the shirt slipped from his teeth, falling to obscure his torso again. his tone dipped, sliding into parseltongue as his hips began to piston into you with relentless precision. "you take me so well," he hissed in that serpentine tongue, each word coiling around you like a spell.

your cheek pressed against the cool, unyielding wood of the table, a faint sheen of drool escaping from the corner of your mouth as you lost yourself in him. "tom, please," you begged, voice trembling with need, arching your back in a desperate bid for more.

his response came swiftly, cutting through the haze of your mind. "such a filthy little whore," he growled, the final word spilling from his lips in parseltongue, each syllable dripping with sinful allure. "so greedy for me." his hands gripped your hips firmly as he withdrew his cock, leaving you unbearably empty.

a whimper fell from your lips at the sudden loss, only to be silenced as tom flipped you effortlessly, laying you back across the desk. his dark eyes bored into yours, a dangerous glint of control and desire reflected in their depths. he didn’t waste a second, shoving his cock into you with a maddening slowness.

it was torturous—the deliberate pace, the teasing stretch that left you gasping and clawing for more. "tom," you whined, the word escaping as a desperate plea. he chuckled lowly, a sound rich with amusement and wicked satisfaction. "shhh, darling," he murmured in parseltongue, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke.

you didn’t understand the words, but they set your nerves alight nonetheless. the cadence alone sent a shiver racing down your spine. unable to resist, you reached up, cupping his face gently with trembling hands and pulling him closer. your lips met his in a searing kiss, your desperation pouring into it. tom responded in kind, his hips snapping forward with sudden force, tearing a moan from your throat.

tom seized the moment, sliding his tongue into your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless. his kiss was relentless, consuming, leaving no room for thought. one of his hands snaked up to your neck, his fingers curling around it. he felt the heat of your pulse, the rhythmic throb against his fingertips igniting something dark and primal within him. his grip tightened, just enough to make your breath hitch—a perfect blend of restraint and domination.

it was all you needed. tom riddle, his hand firm on your throat, his lips devouring yours, sent your mind spiralling. a delicious haze clouded your thoughts, a mix of the airlessness and the intoxicating way he kissed you. he pulled back briefly, his piercing gaze sweeping over you, satisfaction flickering in his dark eyes. then, he leaned in, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth.

the sharp sting of his bite made you gasp. you tasted blood, metallic and warm, as his tongue swept over your lip, soothing the pain while claiming every part of you. the sensation of him inside you was overwhelming, each thrust sending shockwaves through your body. his free hand drifted from your neck, trailing lower with purpose. when his fingers found the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs, the pressure made you cry out.

“tom…” you moaned his name, the sound drawing a deep groan from him. his lips curled into a smirk as he watched you writhe beneath him.

“i’m close,” you gasped, your body trembling. the way his fingers moved, the rhythm of his hips driving into you, was pushing you to the edge.

“do it, whore,” he commanded, his voice low and laced with parseltongue. “come on my cock.”

the forbidden, guttural language sent you over the brink. ecstasy ripped through you, your muscles tightening around him as waves of pleasure crashed down. you cried his name, your legs wrapping around his waist, trembling as the aftershocks hit you.

tom’s control faltered, a guttural growl escaping his lips as he drove himself deep, holding your waist tightly as he cums inside of you. his hips moved in slow, deliberate motions as he rode out his climax, his weight pressing into you.

when it was over, he collapsed onto you, his breath ragged, his forehead damp with sweat. for a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of your shared breathing. slowly, your hand drifted to his back, tracing soft circles until the rhythm of your breaths aligned.

after a while, tom pushed himself up, his expression unreadable. he muttered a spell, cleaning himself with a flick of his wand. without a word, he dressed with practiced precision, his movements calm and calculated. then, with another spell, he tidied you up, fixing your dishevelled appearance as if nothing had happened.

you adjusted your skirt, tossing your ruined tights onto the chair nearby before running your fingers through your hair. when you glanced at him, he was already watching you, his intense gaze locked on yours.

with a surprising tenderness, tom reached out, his hand resting on your cheek, thumb rubbing against it slowly. the simple gesture sent warmth rushing to your cheeks. you blinked, startled—not by his touch, but by the realisation that tom riddle, of all people, had just done something so unexpectedly intimate.

“i suppose i should speak parseltongue in front of you more often,” he murmured, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

you couldn’t stop the blush that deepened as he stepped back, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

with a flick of his wand, he summoned your discarded tights into his hand. “a souvenir,” he said smoothly, tucking them into his pocket before striding out, leaving you stunned.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated.

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fvckuiloveu · 11 months ago

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god i love pathetic men

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cruel-seduction · 3 months ago

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Tom Riddle Headcanon || 18+

(୨୧) 6’3 | Tall, intimidating, and he knows it. He’s tall, but not towering—it’s the kind of height that lets him loom over you just enough to make you uncomfortable in the best way. His presence is magnetic, commanding, like he’s taking up more space than he actually does. (You think you can hold eye contact with this man without second-guessing your life choices? Good luck.)

(୨୧) Lean, but it’s that sharp, calculated kind of lean. Like he was sculpted out of pure ambition and dark magic. His cheekbones? You could slice your finger on them, and his jawline looks like it was chiseled by Salazar Slytherin himself.

(୨୧) He doesn’t have He’s not bulky—oh no, Tom believes muscles are for people who need to physically overpower others. His strength is in his mind, but don’t mistake that for fragility. He’s all sharp edges and taut sinew, like a blade just waiting to cut. Tom has power. Subtle, unassuming strength that hits you when he casually pins someone to the wall or clenches his fist during an argument, making every vein in his forearm pop. (And suddenly you’re wondering if you enjoy being terrified of a man.)

WE LOVE A MAN WHO COULD STRANGLE US WITH ONE HAND AND STILL LOOK PERFECT DOING IT!!!!

(୨୧) Abs? Oh, he has them. But they’re not flashy gym-bro abs—they’re carved out of years of silent rage and perfectionism. You’d only see them under candlelight, the shadows teasing you just enough to make you question every moral fiber in your body.

(୨୧) Tom doesn’t work out. Ever. He’s too busy reading ancient texts and rewriting the definition of “overachiever.” Yet somehow, he has the kind of body that looks like it was sculpted by dark magic itself. His posture is impeccable, every movement deliberate and precise, like he’s constantly two steps ahead of everyone else.

(୨୧) Long fingers, veins visible, nails always perfectly kept. These are the hands of someone who can cast a killing curse with chilling accuracy—or caress your skin like you’re the most fragile thing in the world.

(We LOVE a man who could both destroy and cherish us with the same hands!!!)

(୨୧) His face? The blueprint for the resting evil smirk. He doesn’t even have to try to look dangerous. One glance, one slight quirk of his lips, and suddenly you’re doing whatever he wants without thinking twice. (You: “Why am I holding this cursed object?” Tom: “Because I asked nicely.” …And now you’re smiling like an idiot while the Horcrux slowly sucks away your soul. Love that for you!)

(୨୧) Hotness Level: Nuclear

Tom doesn’t just walk into a room—he owns it. His hotness isn’t in your face; it’s insidious, sneaking up on you until suddenly you’re wondering how you got trapped in his web.

His energy? He doesn’t need to ask for your soul. You’d willingly hand it over while thanking him for the privilege.

And when he’s angry? Oh, you feel it. That piercing stare, the slight tilt of his head, the way his voice drops an octave just to let you know you’ve made a very, very big mistake.

THERE’S HOT, AND THEN THERE’S TOM RIDDLE HOT—THE KIND THAT MAKES YOU WANT TO APOLOGIZE FOR BREATHING TOO LOUDLY.

(୨୧) A Walking Manipulation Manual Tom doesn’t ask for things. He makes you want to give them to him. Every glance, every word is carefully calculated to pull you into his orbit. He’s not just charming—he’s dangerously compelling. (One conversation with him, and suddenly you’re questioning your entire moral compass. Like, “Oh, you want me to help you break into the Restricted Section? Sure, Tom. Anything for you.”)

(୨୧) Validation is His Drug Let’s be real: Tom craves approval like it’s oxygen.Tom will deny it to his last breath, but he needs to be the best. He doesn’t just want to succeed; he wants to be the only option. It’s not enough for him to win—everyone else has to lose. (And don’t get me started on how he reacts to praise. Compliment him in the right way, and you’ll see that flicker of pride in his dark eyes before he schools his face into that unreadable mask again. We love a secretly vulnerable king.) He’s spent his whole life proving he’s better than everyone else, and it’s not just for pride—it’s because he doesn’t know how to not seek validation. He thrives on being the teacher’s pet, the top student. Maybe it’s because he never got his parents validation. But trust me when I say he is a bitch for teacher’s validation. (But let’s be clear: the second you start overshadowing him, he’ll knock you down a peg faster than you can say Avada Kedavra.)

(୨୧) Control Freak Everything about Tom screams precision. His desk? Immaculate. His spells? Flawless. His plans? Perfectly executed. He doesn’t just like control—he needs it. Chaos makes him itch, which is ironic considering he’s the embodiment of quiet destruction. (And He will make sure you’re oriented too)

(୨୧) Manipulative but Subtly Possessive He doesn’t say you’re his. No, Tom makes it clear in subtler ways—like the way he rests a hand on your back just as someone else looks at you too long. Or the cold, sharp glare he gives anyone who dares speak to you without his permission. (A man who makes you feel like a queen while also terrifying everyone else around you.)

(୨୧) Unyielding Ambition Tom doesn’t just want success—he wants power. He wants to be remembered, revered, and feared. He’s the guy who’ll smile sweetly at a professor while planning to steal their research for his own gain. He has a goal. He will do anything to get there. Anything can include from threatening someone to killing someone. He is, as poet says a psycho.

Tom Riddle | The Duality

(୨୧) The Charm is a Weapon His voice? Silky smooth, with just enough edge to keep you on your toes. He’s polite, refined, and utterly disarming. But behind that charming smile is a predator watching his prey. (You’re falling for him, and you don’t even realize it until it’s too late. And honestly? You don’t even mind.)

(୨୧) Dark, Brooding, and Mysterious Tom’s the guy sitting alone in the library, surrounded by ancient tomes, quill scratching quietly against parchment. He’s untouchable, aloof, and yet somehow you can’t stop staring. (You just know he’s plotting something, and you want in on it. Even if it’s dangerous. Especially if it’s dangerous.)

(୨୧) The Possessive Gentleman He’ll hold the door open for you, pull out your chair, and offer you his arm as you walk. But don’t be fooled—this isn’t just gentlemanly courtesy. This is Tom Riddle subtly marking you as his. (Imagine him offering you his coat and then hexing anyone who dares comment on it. THAT’S the energy.)

Tom Riddle|| Personality

(୨୧) He’s the Most Dangerous Kind of Asshole—Polished and Calculated Tom isn’t like Mattheo, who might yell across the hallway for a laugh. No, Tom is refined, cold, and deliberate. When he doesn’t like you, you won’t hear him shouting about it—he’ll make you feel it. He’ll dismantle your self-esteem with just a few carefully chosen words delivered with a sharp smile. (“A shame you couldn’t understand the assignment. I suppose not everyone’s meant for greatness.” Translation: You’re an idiot, and he’s better than you.)

(୨୧) He’s Addicted to Control Every aspect of Tom’s life is planned. His work is immaculate, his appearance is flawless, and his ambitions are unshakable. He thrives on structure because chaos reminds him of what he came from—something he’s desperate to leave behind. Don’t ever try to surprise Tom; he’ll take it as a personal offense. He hates unpredictability because it’s the one thing he can’t manipulate.

(୨୧) A Master of Masking His True Self Tom can charm anyone. Teachers adore him. Classmates admire him—or at least pretend to, because who wants to get on Tom Riddle’s bad side? He wears his “perfect student” persona like armor, and it’s nearly impenetrable. (But let’s be real, you know he’s sneaking into the Restricted Section at 2 a.m., whispering spells under his breath like it’s his birthright.)

(୨୧) Unhinged Beneath the Surface Tom doesn’t snap in loud, dramatic outbursts. No, his anger is a quiet, simmering thing, so much worse because you never see it coming. He’ll stare you down with a look so cold you’ll swear the temperature dropped, and then suddenly— “I suggest you choose your next words carefully. You won’t like what happens otherwise.” (And when he does lose it? You better pray you’re not in the blast radius because that’s some “destroy-everything-in-sight” level fury.)

Tom Riddle | Relationships and Obsession

(୨୧) Emotionally Unavailable, But Intensely Possessive Tom doesn’t do feelings. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself. He views relationships like he views everything else in his life: something to control. But when he does fixate on someone? It’s all-consuming, suffocating, and terrifyingly intense. He won’t shout “you’re mine” from the rooftops. Instead, he’ll show it in the way he glances at anyone who gets too close to you, the subtle squeeze of his hand on your waist, the icy calm he maintains when someone dares flirt with you. (“You’re being watched, princess. I’d think twice before entertaining fools like that again.”)

(୨୧) Manipulative in the Most Beautiful Way Tom has mastered the art of making you think his darkest ideas are your idea. He’ll twist your words, your emotions, until you’re second-guessing yourself and believing that he’s the only one who truly understands you. (“You don’t need them. They’ll only disappoint you. I’m the one who’s always been here, haven’t I?”) (Yes, it’s toxic, but are we complaining? Nope. Absolutely not.)

(୨୧) Softness is Reserved for You and You Only Tom is cold to everyone—except you. When it’s just the two of you, he lets his walls down just enough to show you glimpses of the boy beneath the monster. He’s still composed, but his voice softens, his touch gentles. He’ll sit beside you in the library, his hand brushing yours as he murmurs, “You’re brilliant, you know. Far more than they deserve.” (That’s right. You’re his weakness, and we’re eating that up like it’s our last meal.)

Tom Riddle | Dark Habits and Quirks

(୨୧) Obsessive Overachievement If Tom gets less than perfect marks on anything, he’ll lose sleep over it. He’ll re-study every detail of the assignment until it’s engraved into his mind. (If you try to comfort him, he’ll glare and say, “Mediocrity is unacceptable.” …Okay, Tom, calm down.)

(୨୧) No Time for Fun or Friends Tom doesn’t “hang out.” He doesn’t do parties or casual drinks with the boys. His version of “fun” is solving an ancient magical riddle or perfecting a spell no one else has dared attempt. (Though I imagine he secretly finds your mundane activities fascinating. He’ll pretend he’s annoyed, but he’s watching you decorate a cake like, “How… how does one enjoy this?”)

(୨୧) Petty in the Most Refined Way Tom won’t call you out in public, but he will ruin your life in ways you don’t even realize until it’s too late. (“Oh, did you fail the test? Strange. I suppose all that time gossiping didn’t leave you much room to study.” Cue his perfect grade plastered on the board.)

(୨୧) Refuses to Eat Like a Normal Human Being He’s the type to skip meals because he “doesn’t have time for such trivialities.” When he does eat, it’s methodical, quiet, and eerily polite. (You could be scarfing down chips, and Tom’s over here delicately slicing his food into perfect pieces. Honestly, it’s infuriating and hot at the same time.)

(୨୧) When Tom Realized He Was in Love Tom was the last person to admit he was capable of love. He didn’t need it. In fact, he despised the very idea of vulnerability. At first, he simply enjoyed the control, the power he had over you, the way you seemed so easily ensnared in his web. But then something changed.

It wasn’t dramatic. No hearts aflutter, no sudden epiphany. Instead, it was little moments—the way your laugh made his heart tighten, the way his thoughts lingered on you when he was supposed to be focused on his next conquest. It started to feel like something deeper. The first sign? He found himself doing small things for you, things that felt personal—that were not for his image, but just for you.

Like when you were late for a class, and Tom “accidentally” got your notes for you—notes he knew you didn’t need but knew you’d appreciate. Or when he made sure the books you wanted were always ready for you in the library, despite the fact that he despised wasting his time on “mundane tasks.” He would act as if it was no big deal, but his eyes would linger on you a moment too long, watching you with a touch of something he refused to name.

(୨୧) When He Realized He Loved You

Tom didn’t have some grand epiphany. It was a slow, torturous process of denial. But the moment he knew? It was after you smiled at him after a particularly heated argument about something inconsequential. You stood your ground, refused to back down, and still looked at him like he wasn’t the monster he feared he was. He walked away, but later that night, when the castle was silent, he whispered the words into the dark, testing them out as if saying them aloud would make them feel less… dangerous. "I love her."

(୨୧) His “Confession” Was Terrifyingly Intense

Tom doesn’t stumble through his words like Mattheo might. No, when Tom confesses, it’s calculated and deliberate—but still deeply unsettling.

“You’ve done something to me,” he said, his voice dangerously low, his gaze piercing. “I don’t know what it is, but I can’t stop thinking about you. And I won’t. So you’re going to stay by my side, because that’s where you belong.”

(Translation: We are gonna stay together forever. And we belong with each other. )

(୨୧) Tom’s Denial and “Caring” Moments When Tom started feeling what people call “love,” he fought it. He refused to let himself admit it, convinced that emotions were a weakness. He never said “I love you”—not in the way that other people did. Instead, it was subtle. Insidious. He’d show his affection in the smallest, most frustratingly subtle ways. He wouldn’t bring you flowers or offer grand gestures. No. Tom’s “love” was found in the way he’d drag you into the darkness of the restricted section when no one was watching, the way his fingers brushed yours for a split second before he pulled away, pretending he didn’t want to touch you.

And he definitely wouldn’t say “I love you” unless absolutely necessary. He didn’t need to. His actions spoke louder.

But then, one evening, it just… slipped out. You were sitting together in his private little corner of the library, your laughter echoing in the otherwise silent space. Tom, for once, seemed genuinely relaxed, his usually tense frame at ease. He was looking at you, his gaze dark but softened—something that wasn’t there before.

“You... make everything easier,” he muttered, almost to himself. When you raised an eyebrow, he didn’t immediately elaborate. Instead, he just leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he added, “It’s ridiculous how much I care about you.” and you just smiled and pecked his lips.

There was no "I love you," not in so many words. But you heard it, and it made your heart do something strange—flutter, maybe? But you weren’t sure if you were imagining it because Tom's voice was still so casual. Like everything he said was just... a matter of fact.

(୨୧) Praise Where It Matters Most

Tom doesn’t throw compliments around lightly. When he says something nice, it’s like being struck by lightning. His words carry weight.

“You’re brilliant,” he’d murmur, his voice low, his gaze intense. “More than anyone else here. Don’t ever let them make you think otherwise.”

(And yes, you’d be a puddle on the floor because Tom’s version of praise feels like a rare, precious gift.)

(୨୧) Tom’s Trust and Relationship Dynamics Here’s the thing: Tom doesn’t get jealous. He’s above it. It’s not in his nature. If you’re his, you’re his, and no one dares to get in the way. He doesn’t need to question your loyalty, because in his mind, the moment he chose you, he is gonna trust you more than anyone. For him you’re never at fault but the other person is gonna die. It’s not that he’s insecure—it’s that he knows you would never cheat on him. Why would you? You have everything you could ever need in him.

He doesn’t even feel the need to keep tabs on you, though don’t get it twisted—he is watching, but he does it from the shadows. If you’re not at his side, he trusts that you’ll come back. You always come back. And if you don’t, well… that’s where things get a little interesting.

He’s not showing you off like Mattheo might; he’s staking his claim.

If anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, you’ll feel the shift in his demeanor immediately.

“Do they think they’re worthy of your attention?” he’ll whisper, his tone deceptively calm. “They’re not. Let me remind them.”

(Spoiler: He will. And it won’t be pretty.)

(୨୧) Acts of Service, But Darker

Tom will do things for you, but it’s always with a hidden motive. Did someone upset you? He’ll “take care of it.” Did you want something rare or hard to find? He’ll get it for you, no questions asked.

“Consider it handled,” he’ll say with a ghost of a smile. But you know better than to ask how he handled it.

(୨୧) The Gaslighting Is Unreal

If you ever try to put distance between you and Tom, he’ll make you question everything.

“Why would you leave? After everything we’ve built together?” His voice will crack just enough to make you hesitate.

And when you falter, he’ll pull you back in with a kiss so intense it leaves you breathless, murmuring, “I can’t lose you. Don’t you see? You’re my weakness.”

(୨୧) First Kiss

It happened in the library, of course. You were studying, lost in your notes, and he was pretending to read while stealing glances at you. He didn’t plan it, but you looked up and caught him staring.

“What?” you asked, tilting your head with that infuriatingly perfect smile.

He leaned in before he could stop himself, his hand cupping your cheek as his lips met yours. It wasn’t soft or tentative—it was intense, consuming, like he was staking a claim. When he pulled back, his expression was unreadable.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he murmured before returning to his book as if nothing had happened.

(୨୧) The Reality of Tom Riddle’s Love

With Tom, everything is earned. He doesn't just give his heart away, and certainly not without demanding something in return. But for you? You’ll always have his trust. You’ll always have his attention. You’ll always know that beneath that cold exterior, he’s obsessed.

Tom Riddle | Intimacy and the Smut

(୨୧) With Tom Riddle, intimacy is an art—meticulous, calculated, and suffused with a dark intensity that leaves you trembling in its wake. He isn’t one for rushed encounters or fleeting passions. No, when Tom takes you, it’s deliberate, almost ceremonial, like he’s claiming something he already knows belongs to him.

(୨୧) The Build-Up Foreplay with Tom is a slow burn, a game of control that he always wins. He knows exactly how to make you crave him without even laying a finger on you. His voice, low and commanding, is enough to send shivers down your spine. He has this way of leaning in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs things that are simultaneously a praise and a promise.

“You look exquisite when you’re begging, darling,” he whispers, his hand ghosting along the curve of your neck, stopping just short of touching you fully.

Tom thrives on anticipation. He’ll spend what feels like an eternity trailing his fingers across your skin, watching your reactions with a sharp, almost predatory focus. Every gasp, every arch of your body—it’s all cataloged in his mind, stored away for when he decides to unravel you completely.

The way he kisses you is enough to leave you breathless. It’s not hurried or frenzied; it’s controlled, methodical. He tilts your chin up with a single finger, his lips slanting over yours with a precision that makes your knees weak.

When he finally touches you, it’s overwhelming. His hands are strong, commanding, but there’s a certain reverence in the way he holds you, like he’s savoring every inch of your skin.

(୨୧) The Act Tom is not gentle, but he’s not reckless either. He knows exactly how to toe the line between pleasure and pain, how to push you to the edge without ever letting you fall. He’s all about control—his control over you, your body, your mind.

His stamina is almost otherworldly. Where others might falter, Tom thrives, his focus unwavering as he pushes you past your limits. He doesn’t stop until you’re completely spent, your body trembling beneath his, your voice hoarse from calling his name.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his tone laced with dark amusement as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. “Falling apart so beautifully for me. Are you even aware of how perfect you are?”

He loves to whisper things into your ear, things that make your cheeks flush and your heart race.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his voice rough and commanding. “Every part of you. Do you understand that?”

And when you nod, he smirks, his lips ghosting over yours.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, his voice soft but firm.

(୨୧) Pet Names and Praise Tom isn’t overly creative with pet names, but the ones he uses are potent.

Darling: His go-to, spoken with a dark edge that makes your knees weak.

My love: When he’s feeling particularly possessive, usually whispered against your skin.

Good girl: Said in a way that makes your heart race and your mind spin.

Perfect: Because to him, you are, and he never lets you forget it.

(୨୧) Roughness and Domination Tom doesn’t shy away from being rough. His hands grip your hips hard enough to leave bruises, his teeth graze your neck in a way that makes you shiver, and his pace is relentless. He loves the way your body reacts to him, the way you cling to him, desperate and needy.

“You can take it,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. “I know you can. You’re stronger than you think, my love.”

And when you finally break, when you can’t hold back the cries of pleasure that spill from your lips, Tom smirks, his satisfaction evident in the dark gleam of his eyes.

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispers, his lips pressing against your temple. “Always so perfect.”

(୨୧) Aftercare Despite his roughness, Tom isn’t cruel. Once the heat of the moment has passed, he softens ever so slightly. He doesn’t say much, but his actions speak volumes. He’ll run his fingers through your hair, his touch surprisingly tender, and press soft kisses against your forehead.

“You did well, darling,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. “Rest now. I’ll take care of everything.”

And he does. Because while Tom Riddle might be a lot of things—manipulative, calculating, and intense—when it comes to you, he’s nothing short of devoted.

#tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle x y/n #fanfic #tom riddle #tom riddle fic #tom riddle x you #tom riddle smut #hp smut #smutty smut smut #smutty fanfiction #tom riddle x reader smut #slytherin boys

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beegomess · 8 months ago

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What is your relationship like? || Slytherin boys

Summary: We saw how other people see you in the previous chapter. Here we will see how things really are.

Warnings: A little spicy on some topics, but nothing so explicit.

Requests are open!

masterlist here

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Blaise Zabini

Your relationship with Blaise is really amazing, he is almost the perfect boyfriend;

You've known each other forever, but love only flowed when you got closer in recent years at Hogwarts;

Dating Blaise is knowing that he thinks about marrying you;

He's the kind of boy who plans to have a family with you;

His family has always loved you, and your parents love you as a child;

Of course, he has his flaws. Sometimes he can be a little anxious about the things he wants to do with you;

Never, ever disrespected you in any way;

He would understand if you chose to wait to have any physical intimacy after getting married;

At the beginning of the relationship you were the type who were always together, but over time you were respecting each other's individuality;

He will always be a gentleman with you;

You never had to worry about anything in relation to fidelity, Zabini never left doubts that he loves you more than anything;

He always imposes limits when a girl gets too close. Having colleagues is fine, but it won't get past it;

Blaise is not ashamed that others see how much he loves you;

He is the boy of every girl's dreams, as if he had come out of a romance book.

Draco Malfoy

His problems with Lúcios would certainly splash on you at one time or another;

You would certainly support him in facing his father if necessary;

Draco grew up with you, he has always seen you as a safe haven;

There is no doubt that he loves you, but his insecurity sometimes affects you;

Somewhat possessive when it comes to any Gryffinory;

Although he admires his kindness, he prefers not to exercise his. Something you can't change, but you certainly repudiate;

Narcisa loves you, always praising you and thanking Merlin for her son having found someone so good;

Draco tends to be stubborn, which is sometimes stressful for you;

He would buy you gifts whenever he wanted to apologize;

The fact that he has a slight shame in showing his love for you in public is something that bothers you a little;

Sometimes he exaggerates the jokes in front of his friends, but when you turn back, he stays in a continuous silence until the end of the conversation;

However, he loves to show that you are his when he feels minimally threatened;

You were surprised when you saw that he liked you to guide him during sex;

The golden trio just doesn't like you, even if you didn't do anything to them;

There is no way to blame them, even if you give a sermon on Draco whenever you learn of your insults to others.

Lorenzo Berkshire

Enzo was a sensitive boy, which made him listen to you as much as you needed;

His kindness certainly captivated you;

However, he tends to be too kind to some people in his opinion;

The girls didn't seem to mind flirting with him, it was as if he left them;

He certainly wouldn't betray you, but it was quite easy to put him in some frame like this;

His family didn't like him so much, always very demanding, they wanted someone like Malfoy or Nott;

Too romantic in your mother's opinion;

He was not jealous of anything, or anyone;

We need to tell the truth here, the total absence of jealousy was something you didn't like so much;

He was your best friend;

He certainly wouldn't yell at you, nor would he offend you;

Enzo was not ashamed to shout to the four winds that he loved you;

He has always been completely yours.

Mattheo Riddle

Mattheo approached you little by little. Being the sister of one of his best friends didn't make things easier for him;

Discussions were quite common, almost always resolved in sex;

Jealousy definitely existed on both sides;

A lot of jokes, you would create wrinkles from laughing so much at the silly things he says;

Always protecting you from his family as much as I could;

Your parents are definitely not Mattheo fans, but that just made everything more fun for you;

Mattheo was intelligent, he just didn't try very hard;

You encourage him to do the lessons of the class correctly;

The parties were definitely more fun with him;

The language of his love was certainly a physical touch;

He loved your body, it was as if nothing was more beautiful than you;

Even if other girls risked flirting with him, it was all in vain, Riddle never cared to look at them back;

His love for you was incalculable, completely devout;

If you wanted and were of this kind of person, you could manipulate your boyfriend easily, he believed in you a lot;

Flitting with you was completely out of the question for other boys, Mattheo was aware of that;

He takes care of you when you cross the line with alcohol;

The first time you had sex was in a broom closet, it was definitely not romantic, but it was wonderfully pleasurable;

Quickies were very common.

Theodore Nott

He saw you for the first time when they were still children. You ran away to the Nott Mansion library during a very boring dinner between your families;

They grew up together, he was always in love with you;

Completely devoted to your relationship;

Prefer to spend the nights with you than to go to noisy parties;

When you go to parties, it was always with you by the side. Never alone;

You admire him so much, all the things he did were great;

Theodore used to help you with schoolwork, always very focused on classes;

Not ironically, the first cigarette he smoked was with you in the astronomy tower;

Your families already had everything planned for their future, but you only thought about what it would be like to escape and travel together;

Formal dinners during the holidays suddenly became more interesting;

His mother would certainly be proud of who he became;

Theo's face was almost always expressionless, but with you he was almost always smiling;

The gifts he gave you were always significant;

He was jealous, even if he didn't show so much not to seem too possessive;

He may seem quiet, but make no mistake, the sex was definitely hot;

Nicknames in Italian always melted his heart;

Provocations were quite common, but very discreet.

Tom Riddle

You had more in common than it seemed;

Tom was quite obstinate in what he wanted, he wouldn't let anyone get in his way;

He didn't use to demonstrate in public, that was a fact, but he wasn't a completely cold boy either;

His favorite moments were when he lay down on his body and heard his heart beat at a comforting pace;

His family loved him from the beginning. He knew how to be polite and charismatic when he needed to;

He seemed so respectful of you in front of his parents, they barely knew that you had already been completely corrupted;

Teachers used to keep an eye on you and your interests;

He was the darling of the teachers for his apparently interested and innocent way, but some teachers did not let themselves be fooled by this manipulation, distrusting him and you;

Tom was determined to take you with him wherever he went;

Even if people didn't gossip clearly about you, there were buzz about what it would be like;

What attracted Tom to you was how he saw himself in you;

You weren't as innocent as you seemed to be, and he loved it;

There were only two things he would never give up in life: Power and you.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

A/N: Guys, I'm running out of ideas, please send me ideas for imagines or headcanons. 😭😭

xoxo, bee✨🫶🏼

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shyamanuensis · 1 month ago

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Professor!Riddle - t.r

Professor!Riddle that comes by your desk during class to see if you need help with your work. It’s an innocent enough gesture - that’s what professors are meant to do; but it isn’t a shock that the offers to help become more frequent over summer when the top few buttons of your shirt are left open, giving him a perfect angle into what you’re hiding underneath.

Professor!Riddle who on occasion finds himself glancing over at you while he finishes a cold cup of coffee before class is to commence. Often he’s propped up resting cool, calm, and collected by a statue near Central Hall with graded papers and notes for the days' lesson grasped firmly in his hands; but given the opportunity of you standing there - chatting away with your friends; he makes the most of the way he can commit your silhouette to memory so well that the way you move, the way you stand, the way your head tilts back when you laugh plays in repeat all day in the back of his mind.

Can we talk about how Professor!Riddle clears his throat with a double cough every time you cross your legs in class; skirt flirting up at your thighs as you shift in your seat to get comfortable. That paired with the way you tuck your hair back behind your ear whenever you’re trying to focus in class has his throat run dry. Thank Merlin for that caramel hard candy that he constantly sucks on which smells strangely similar to the perfume that you wear.

“Excuse me, Professor?” Your voice is like angelic music to Professor!Riddle’s ears. Oh, how he wants to correct you and just say “Tom’s fine.” but can’t due to the strict student/faculty relationship you both share. He knows it is wrong - an absolute disgrace to think of you as anything other than a pupil but he’s sure by the way you and your friends giggle in class before you chew at your bottom lip - making it swell ever so slightly while you gaze at him means more than just a simple school-girl crush.

Professor!Riddle who has found notes left after class between you and your friends; on purpose? Who knows. But they’re about how good you all think his head would feel between your thighs and how you imagine he’d taste - mouth full, uniform creased, tears trickling from the corners of your eyes – oh fuck he’s got a boner only minutes before his next class starts. Merlin!

As you stand at his desk after class, a picture-perfect portrait of naivety and vulnerability asking about when his next set time for office hours is, Professor!Riddle can’t help but smirk and confirm that yes, he’ll be available on Thursdays between 10am and 11am for any questions or clarification you require on the class material studied today. “Perhaps you could quiz me, Professor…” Oh, how he wants to; two of his fingers buried deep inside your cunt and a single thrust of them whenever you answer a question right.

That creaking noise coming from his office that is barely audible? It’s the sound of wood scraping against stone floors as Professor!Riddle has you bent over his desk; a hand firmly holding your skirt up at your hip while the other comes down with a teasing smack against your skin every time you deny him the fact you’ve purposely tried to get his attention in class. Every flirtatious glance, the way your eyelashes bat in his direction when he calls your name, the way you fold your arms across your chest and rest them on your desk; perking your tits up in that god-forsaken tight white shirt as part of the uniform you’re forced to wear… he knows, fuck does he know; and the smile on your face, tells him everything.

Does Professor!Riddle fix himself up after your little private rendezvous sessions? Sometimes. A quick comb of his fingers through his dark hair and the straightening of his shirt is usually all he needs; but sometimes, not often though, his tie won’t quite sit as flush as it’s supposed to around his neck, and his collar may be stained by the pepper of lipglossed kisses you’ve left down the side of his neck but no one dares to say a thing. Curious students and faculty alike - if only they knew of his dirty little secret.

i'm going through a riddle withdrawal phase - so sorry in advance, but you'll all be traveling down the rabbit hole with me. a thank you to @tabithasmashkittymoonblossom for her recent professor riddle fic that inspired all this. if you haven't read it yet - I highly recommend it and you can find it here xoxo

#hp fandom #tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle headcanon #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle smut #dirty slytherin bois #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader

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hp-hcs · 1 year ago

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i didn’t realize the riddle brothers were a "buy one get one free" type of deal, but alright — simp! overprotective! yandere! riddle brothers x gn! oblivious! bullied! slytherin! reader

requested by 🎀!

2.5k words, not to brag 😌

i love writing the bros’ interactions with each other as like, actual sibling-core yk? they r just so cutie patootie

the reader's patronus makes an appearance in this, but i tried to make it as accessible to everyone as possible, so it's never explicitly stated what animal it is. it is implied that it’s able-to-fit-under-a-table sized though

also this is totally just pre-slash nothing that interesting happens

warnings: couple mentions of blood, mild descriptions of wounds, implied violence, implied bullying, murder

not edited!! this is my first like, really long fic so constructive criticism is welcome!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A well-timed shove to the small of your back sent you tumbling down an entire flight of moving stairs.

You groaned as you hit the bottom, sprawled out on your back on the cold stone floor. You laid there for a moment, winded. You could hear the occupants of a nearby painting titter at your gracefulness (or lack thereof), so you rolled your head to the other side to give them an award winning smile and an unabashed middle finger.

You could hear them all grumble about kids these days and how I never would’ve treated my elders this way. You just rolled your eyes at their pettiness.

“Uh…what are you doing?” A decidedly alive voice interrupted your momentary satisfaction.

“Ah- evening, Riddle!” You said cheerily as soon as you recognized the speaker, scrambling to your feet and dusting off your uniform. “Nothing! Just…tripped. Couldn’t see very well in the dark, that’s all.”

Tom blinked, his lips twisted into a frown. “.....Fine. But don’t let me catch you out of bed past curfew again. You’re a Slytherin, for Salazar’s sake. Act like it.”

And that was it. Tom turned on his heel and continued down the hall without another word. Tom Riddle: prefect, teacher’s pet, and obnoxious hardass extraordinaire—he just...let you go, with no threats of detention or loss of house points.

Huh.

~~~

Tom, having just returned from a full night’s shift of prefect hall duty, flopped face-down onto his bed, his cheeks aflame as he let out a muffled shriek into his pillow.

His brother, in the process of getting dressed for the day, paused at the scene in front of him.

“Dude, what’s your deal?”

“L/n,” Tom said by way of explanation, kicking his feet as he shrieked into his pillow again. “They acknowledged me. And they know my last name.”

“Most people know our last name, Tom,” Mattheo rolled his eyes.

“No- you don’t understand,” Tom said emphatically. “L/n is like…the cutest person to ever exist. And they’re so sweet, and smart, and funny, and-”

“And terrified of us?”

“Well…”

Mattheo rolled his eyes, putting his hands on his hips. “You talk about them too much. It’s getting insufferable.”

Tom just scowled and flicked his fingers to cast a wandless spell that straightened Mattheo’s tie and neatened his uniform. “The way you dress is insufferable. Slob.”

Mattheo stuck out his tongue at his brother before ruffling Tom’s hair to purposely mess it up. “Dick.”

“Idiot.”

~~~

Mattheo glanced up at you as you hovered uncertainly by the corner of his desk.

“Can I sit here…?” You mumbled shyly, your cheeks flushing as the pretty dark-haired boy in your year smiled up at you.

“Course!” He grinned brightly before realizing that might have been too enthusiastic of a reply for eight in the morning and quickly tried to cover up his slip. “Uh…Y/n, right? I’m Mattheo.”

“Yeah, I know who you are.”

Mattheo’s stomach dropped.

Fuck, that’s not good.

“You let me copy your homework in third year for that essay on the properties of wormwood, or whatever.” You said offhandedly, like it wasn’t batshit insane to remember that pointlessly tiny detail. “Thank you for that, by the way. Potions sucks ass.”

Before Mattheo could even think, the words left his mouth. “I could tutor you if you want.”

You looked at him oddly, but grinned after a second. “Yeah, sure. That’d actually be really helpful. Snape hates me, man.”

“Really? Even though you’re in Slytherin?”

“Mhm, his baseless nepotism only extends so far.”

Mattheo barked out a startled laugh as your deadpan humor caught him off guard. You just grinned at him in response, causing the tips of his ears to immediately burn bright red.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, ducking his head in embarrassment. “Um…do you wanna meet in the library after school today? For our tutoring session,” Mattheo hurriedly added.

“Sure, alright.” You shrugged. “See you there.”

He beamed, giving you that stupidly adorable grin once more. “Awesome! Yeah- yeah, cool. Awesome. See you there then.”

~~~

You were still shit at potions.

It had been six weeks of tutoring, and you’d learned pretty much nothing. Although, that wasn’t an issue on Mattheo’s part, but rather on his annoyingly hot older brother’s.

Tom Riddle was surprisingly funny. For someone who gave off almost exclusively stoically austere bastard vibes, he enjoyed cracking jokes and enlisting your help in pulling pranks on his brother a bit too much.

It became your routine. Every Tuesday and Thursday after school, you would meet the two brothers in the library, waste like three hours joking around and getting absolutely no work done, and then going back to your dorm and ranting to your roommate about how fucking cute they are and how you would gladly pay for the opportunity to make out with one- no, both of them.

(Your roommate is so fucking tired of hearing about the Riddles. You’d better buy them a latte and a cake-pop as an apology.)

~~~

You struggled to get up, your legs giving out. You cursed under your breath, putting a hand to your forehead as it throbbed in pain.

It came away sticky with blood.

This wasn’t going to work, you realized belatedly. With what remained of your strength, you were able to reach out and grab your wand, murmuring a quiet, “Expecto Patronum.”

A spectral creature formed in front of your eyes, remaining motionless as it stared at you.

“Go find Riddle,” you mumbled to the Patronus, your eyelids growing heavy.

You barely registered the wispy glowing animal immediately bounding off at your instructions, your vision doubling before your body went completely slack, the wand slipping from your fingers and hitting the tile floor with a clatter.

~~~

Mattheo doodled mindlessly in the margins of his parchment as his brother droned on and on about the properties of willow bark in potions and really, this is important, Mattheo. Pay attention.

“Why isn’t Y/n here yet?” Mattheo asked his brother for the third time.

Tom rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, Matt. Just like how I didn't know when you asked me five minutes ago. Maybe they just don’t want to see your stupid face any more, huh?”

“What if they’re in trouble? Or hurt?” Mattheo worried, chewing on his thumbnail and ignoring his brother’s insult. “They’re never late, Tommy.”

Tom wrinkled his nose at the use of the dumb (albeit endearing) nickname Mattheo gave him when they were children, but the sinking feeling in his gut at hearing his brother’s distressed tone didn’t help to ease the niggling worries at the back of his mind of maybe they are in trouble.

As if on cue, Mattheo shivered as something icy cold brushed against his ankles. He glanced down. A glowing spectral creature nudged his leg, looking up at him expectantly with unnervingly empty eyes.

A Patronus.

Y/n’s Patronus.

~~~

They followed the Patronus down the deserted hall, the animal occasionally pausing to make sure the boys were both still following it before bounding forward again.

The Patronus stopped in front of a bathroom door, giving them both that same unnervingly hollow-eyed stare of expectancy.

Tom gulped and pushed open the door, fearing that he might find the worst.

He did.

~~~

Your eyes cracked open slowly, and you winced at the multitude of stinging and stabbing pains that wracked your body.

You had to blink a couple times for everything to come into focus. You were in a small room with white walls and white flooring, and the gentle dawn illuminated the quiet space with soft rays of light. The steady beep of a vitals monitor faded into the background as you stared down at yourself.

You weren’t wearing a shirt, for one, or even a hospital gown. Pretty much your entire upper torso was wrapped in bloodstained gauze. The jagged edges of a brutal slash across your chest peeked out of the top of the dressings, and you had to close your eyes and hold your breath for a moment to keep from throwing up. Once you’d calmed back down, you opened your eyes, startled to see that you weren’t alone.

Mattheo had pulled up a chair to the side of your hospital bed and crossed his arms on the mattress, using them as a makeshift pillow. His dark lashes fanned across his cheeks, his breaths slow and even. He looked so peaceful and...unguarded in his sleep. You reached down to brush a loose curl away from his forehead.

“Having fun?”

You startled, jerking your hand back.

Tom leaned against the doorframe of your room with an amused expression, quirking an eyebrow and wiggling his fingers in a wave.

“Shut up,” you hissed back in a whisper, your cheeks flaring red.

Tom’s amused grin only grew at your dark blush as he invited himself into your room fully, closing the door behind him.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” He jokingly winked, tapping the side of his nose.

“You’re insufferable.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“What am I doing here?” You quickly changed topics, refusing to even look down in Mattheo’s direction.

Tom sighed, any amusement on his face rapidly vanishing. “You sent us a Patronus, thank Merlin. Pomfrey said you would’ve bled out if you hadn’t.”

You had no memory of casting the Patronus charm at all, but you trusted Tom’s recollection of events better than your own jumbled and spotty one. “Bled out?” You questioned, your heart hammering in your throat as your voice climbed an octave in anxiety.

Tom nodded, his face carefully schooled into a blank and neutral expression. “You were hit with the Sectumsempra spell. You've been out for three days now.”

Your brow furrowed. “Malfoy got hit with that last year though—and was in and out of the infirmary in less than a day.”

“Snape knew the counterspell and found ‘im just in time last year,” Mattheo mumbled sleepily, his eyes still closed as he tuned into the conversation at hand. “But whoever hit you with it just left you there to die.”

“Charming.” You mutter under your breath.

“Regardless of what happened in Malfoy’s instance,” Tom interrupted briskly. “You were on the brink of literal death. So I’ll ask you this one time and one time only. Who did it, Y/n?”

~~~

“I brought you a cookie from the Great Hall,” Mattheo grinned widely, climbing into your hospital bed next to you and unwrapping the napkin in his hand. “And the notes from today’s Charms lesson, but those’re boring and we both know you won’t actually read ‘em.”

“Aww, you know me so well.” You teased, breaking the cookie in half and handing him one of the pieces.

Mattheo cupped the cookie fragment in his hands like it was a priceless treasure, staring down at it in unrestrained awe.

You just shook your head at his antics and brushed the odd reaction off.

~~~

You woke up this morning and just felt like shit. You were nauseous, and dizzy, and felt borderline faint. Tom’s voice, usually soothing and comforting to hear, sounded like nails on a chalkboard right now. He rambled on and on about the delicate process of making the temperamental Felix Felicis potion.

“Tom,” you interrupted, your voice scratchy and quiet. “Can we take a break? Please?”

He blinked, surprised at being interrupted, but nodded slowly. “I suppose…? Why?”

“Don’t feel good,” you mumbled, setting your textbook down and rubbing your eyes.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Madame Pomfrey said brusquely as she bustled around your hospital room, shooing Tom out of the way to stand by your bedside.

(Poppy Pomfrey remains the only person who can and has shooed Tom Riddle III and lived to tell the tale—and all without a single ounce of fear.)

“I’ve raised your dosage so that you can be out of here in time for your N.E.W.T.s.” Pomfrey elaborated upon seeing your confused look.

“Fantastic.” You mumbled dryly, grinning sleepily up at Tom as he grabbed onto your hand and interlaced your fingers together. He ignored the way his heart skipped a beat in favor of letting you hold his sweaty palm.

“Go to sleep, L/n,” Tom muttered under his breath. “Potions can wait.”

~~~

Tom lay in your hospital bed beside you, running his thumb over your knuckles. “Please? We promise we won’t do anything.”

“Yeah,” Mattheo chimed in from the other side of your crowded bed, one arm tossed over your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Or at least, nothing we’ll get caught for.”

You sigh, tired of their ceaseless pleading. “Alright, alright, fine. I’ll tell you who it was.”

Both boys leaned in close.

You sigh again and roll your eyes at their overprotectiveness. “Alright, it was-”

~~~

Tucker Thompson and Devin Dobbs: Gryffindor Sixth Years Found MURDERED at Hogwarts! Dumbledore: “No comment at this time.”

You tilted the newspaper so Madame Pomfrey could read the article over your shoulder as she replaced your IV bag.

Pomfrey just sighed and rolled her eyes. “I don’t understand how Skeeter is still employed at the Prophet.”

“Cause shock value will always hold weight in the media?” You answered dryly around a mouthful of depressingly plain infirmary wing toast. “And Skeeter’s good at nothing if not coming up with bullshit shock value titles.”

“That may be true,” she began, snatching the paper from your hands. “But patients shouldn’t be reading about such dark subjects, and certainly not while under my care. And don’t talk while eating. I rather like your company, and would hate to see you choke.”

You rolled your eyes at her suffocatingly motherly behavior. “So are they? Thompson and Dobbs; they’re really dead?”

Madame Pomfrey hesitated.

You let out a relieved breath of air that you tried (and failed) to hide behind a cough. “That’s…terrible.”

She narrowed her eyes and studied you for a long moment, her fingers mindlessly worrying the deckle edge of the newspaper in her hands. “It was them, wasn’t it? Your boys.”

“My boys?”

“Yes, yes, Riddles one and two. Your boys.”

“Oh- we’re not…”

She raised an eyebrow, pursing her lips as she tried to hold back a laugh at the utter obliviousness of teenagers. “Do they know that, dear?”

You spluttered out a half-assed rebuke to her statement, but Pomfrey quickly interrupted you.

“They’ve been staying here for hours every day for the last month. They want more than just your friendship, hon.”

“No way. We’re just friends.” You insisted firmly. “That’s all.”

Madame Pomfrey rolled her eyes. “Uh huh. Friends. Keep telling yourself that.”

You stared after her, open-mouthed in bafflement, as she rolled up the Prophet, tucked it under her arm, and turned around without another word—leaving you with zero reading material and a million questions.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

you have to love how pomfrey could not give less of a fuck that the riddles murdered two students as long as she gets her ot3 absolutely iconic behavior

pt 2

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incorrectquotesharrypotterv · 2 years ago

Text

Y/n: Just… Apologize to each other on the count of three.

Y/n: One, two, three.

Tom:

Mattheo:

Y/n: Well, now I'm disappointed in both of you.

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evergone · 1 year ago

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Hey!! Idk know if you are taking requests right now but can you write a Theo x Hufflepuff reader imagine where the reader is always telling him to make friends from other houses. He finally does make friends but with a beautiful Ravenclaw and starts spending more time with her. The reader starts feeling insecure and ignores Theo. He soon realises that she is ignoring him and talks to her.

Btw I love your writing and can you please tag me if you do write it?

Too Friendly

Theodore Nott x reader

Warnings: Swearing, allusions to sex but no sex.

Description: The reader wants Theo to make more friends but when he does, she becomes insecure about their bond.

Sorry this took so long to get out, I'm in the middle of my final exams of high school so I don't have much time. I enjoyed writing this one. Thanks for the request @orphicmortala

“It’s sad, Theo, you’ve got, like, no friends!” You said as you tried your best to remember how to tie your yellow tie.

“What do you call Malfoy, then?” Theo asked from the bed.

“An accomplice,” you replied with that unique snark that Theo loved about you, “You need friends from other houses— Friends that aren’t just me.” You added those final words hastily before he could open his mouth in protest.

Theo rolled his eyes and beckoned you over. His hands glided over the folds of your tie with expertise, undoing the mess of a knot you’d created in order to do it up properly and perfectly. When he was done, he looked up at you with his gorgeous, oceanic eyes and the corners of his mouth where both his beautiful lips connected turned upwards. You uttered your thanks quietly as you resisted the primal urge to just not go to class at all and instead spend the whole day with him. Your mind wandered off to imagine being stuck between Theo’s checkered emerald sheets, but you brought it back to reality.

Fending off your lustful desires as well as a nun would, you bid adieu to Theo and hurried out of his room and the Slytherin common room. On your way out, you dodged the teasingly crude jokes and names that Theo’s friends tossed towards you and told Pansy that she was no better than yourself (you’d seen the way she snuck out of that empty classroom after Draco a couple days earlier, her hair and clothes all dishevelled and her thighs rubbing together uncomfortably).

The whole day, Theo dwelled on your words. While you weren’t exactly dating or in a relationship, he always found himself bound to your every word and every whim. You seemed to dictate his life in a way that you certainly shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help but listen to you. So, in Arithmancy, he didn’t sit next to Blaise as he usually did, instead electing to sit with Lisa Turpin, a Ravenclaw girl he’d seen you talk to a few times.

She looked at him in confusion, “Did you need something?”

He withheld the instinct to say some snide remark and instead replied, “I thought I’d make a new friend today.”

“On some random Tuesday… in our Sixth year?” Her face contorted to expose her obvious disgust.

“Merlin’s cock and balls, I’m trying to be nice, Turpin!” Theo frowned and picked up his bag to go sit elsewhere.

Turpin grabbed his wrist as he stood up and her lips made a thin line as she pulled him back down to the seat. Her brows knitted together like a homemade sweater and she breathed out a sigh of defeat.

“No, it’s okay, sorry,” she said, “Sit here if you’d like.”

Over the next week, Theo made some serious efforts to get to know Turpin despite his friends’ obvious, loud verbal opposition. After that first Arithmancy class, Blaise had practically torn him to shreds with his massive speech on house loyalty and the horrible impact that you were clearly having on him. Daphne had recited the same speech her mother had given to her on her first day of her first year at school about how interrelations with students from the lesser houses was a gateway drug to blood sympathy (she’d given him the same speech when he started his little thing with you). And Pansy, Merlin’s beard, Pansy was furious.

Pansy had constructed this whole idea in her mind that you hated that Theo was talking to Turpin. She called it “cheating” which Theo had adamantly disagreed with. He wasn’t having sex with Turpin, in fact, he had absolutely zero romantic interest in her. He barely even liked her. The only thing the two had in common was Arithmancy and every time they hung out they talked about it until there was no more Arithmancy to talk about. It was, quite frankly, boring. Turpin was boring.

“It’s emotional cheating,” said Pansy in a huff as she and the others started towards the Great Hall for Monday breakfast.

“Emotional cheating?” Theo asked skeptically.

“Yes, Nott, emotional cheating,” she nodded, “And it’s hurting Y/n’s feelings. That’s why she hasn’t spoken to you all week.”

His gaze snapped to focus on Pansy whose black eyes were ablaze with the feminine rage of a girl’s best friend, “How do you know she hasn’t spoken to me all week?”

Pansy smirked, her honey red lipstick bright against her pale skin, and shrugged. She knew you hadn’t spoken to him all week because you wouldn’t shut up about it. In Divination on Wednesday afternoon, you’d all but assaulted Pansy with questions about Theo’s newfound interest in Turpin. All of which Pansy had no helpful responses to.

“Is he flirting with her?” You asked.

“Maybe, I don’t know, it’s not like they sit with us,” said Pansy, struggling to focus on the crystal ball with all your chatter.

“Why not? Why don’t they sit with you? Are they trying to be private?” You pushed almost frantically.

“Uh, possibly? Honestly, I just think he knows we don’t like her,” she explained.

“Why don’t you like her? Is she a bitch?” You frowned and then quickly added in a judgmental tone, “Or are you just being blood supremacists?”

“Is she a mudblood?” Pansy stopped working to stare at you.

You smacked her hand and she hissed, “I don’t know her that well. Don’t say that.”

When Theo and his friends finally arrived at the Great Hall, he searched the tables for your face. While most people usually stuck to their house’s table, you were a social butterfly and loved to flutter from table-to-table to talk to all of your many friends. Sometimes he wondered how you weren’t a prefect despite your popularity and the respect the younger years gave you. His eyes found Turpin first and she beamed and waved him over, but he blatantly ignored her. Pansy and Daphne watched on with delight as the girl cringed with embarrassment and turned back to her meal with bright red ears.

A spot of h/c hair floated above a robe lined with yellow and he abandoned his friends to go to you. You were standing at the end of the Hufflepuff table (not an unusual place to find you, but your favourite table was always the Slytherin one), and you were utterly consumed by a tale you were sewing for your housemates Hannah Abbott and Justin Finch-Fletchley.

“Y/n,” Theo spoke and his deep, smokey voice tore you straight out of your conversation, “Can we talk?”

Your eyebrows quivered and your blinking sped up as you took his appearance in for the first time all week. You hadn’t gone so long without speaking to him in at least three years (you got into an argument in your third year about the petrifications) and hearing his voice and seeing him so close was like throwing a former alcoholic into a sea of wine. There was nothing you wanted more than to indulge in him. But Hannah and Justin were glaring at him like hawks, or guard dogs, whichever was more intimidating.

“Um,” you glanced back at your friends and Hannah shook her head slightly, she’d never much liked Theo, “Sure.”

Hannah rolled her eyes and whispered something barely audible to Justin. Something about a “love-fucked pushover.” You ignored her. Theo took you to a pair of seats far from any prying ears and held your hands in his.

“You know I don’t like Turpin, right?” He said quietly.

You scoffed, “Yeah, right. And that’s why you spent all week with her.”

“I spent all week with her because you told me to!” He laughed with salt that spread itself over your wounded heart.

“Did I just? Because I really don’t remember saying ‘Hey, Theo, you know how I like you so much? I actually want you to go talk to another girl,’” you said sarcastically.

He held back a grin as best he could but the amusement glistened in his eyes and on his rosy, mole-spotted cheeks. His hand came up to your brow and massaged the frown out from between your eyebrows as you fluttered your eyelashes at him in the way you knew made him melt inside.

“I wanted to make friends for you,” he told you with that soft, romantic tone he used in bed.

“Don’t,” you ordered, “You’re Theodore Nott, you aren’t supposed to be friendly.”

For the first time in a week, he got a good look at you. He hadn’t realised how much he missed the sight of your h/l h/c hair and the way it framed your stunning face so perfectly that you appeared to have stepped right out of a portrait. He hadn’t realised how much he missed how your eyes, an elegant e/c and perpetually glossy as if always on the verge of tears, examined every centimetre of his face. He hadn’t realised how much he missed doing your tie up for you until he saw it tied like a bow around your neck.

“I’m friendly to you,” he said as his hands pulled at the end of the tie and it fell apart over your chest.

“And that’s all you need, I think,” you whispered pleasantly and pressed a loving kiss to his lips as he looped the tie around itself twice and pushed the end through the gap, tying it perfectly.

#theo nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theodore nott x reader #hp fandom #theo nott x y/n #slytherin x reader #draco malfoy x reader #harry potter x reader #theo nott imagine #theodore nott imagine #theo nott fanfic #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader #regulus black x reader #tom riddle x reader

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inksoakedparchment · 3 months ago

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SLYTHERIN BOYS REACTING TO THEIR GIFTS + WHAT IS IT

THEODORE NOTT:

༯ you put on your new blood red sexy underwear and you lay under tree. you shout his name to come out of your room because his present is here. he comes out and when he looks at you, his jaw drops. then he grins and quickly undress himself but when you see his goofy christmas boxer, you start laughing. but the laughter immediately stops when he captures your lips with his. it was the best christmas present he’s got in his life.

MATTHEO RIDDLE:

༯ you put some hot pictures in an envelope and you give it to him. Matt opens it and his jaw drops, then he bites his lower lip. he’s giving side eyes then he rips your clothes off and buries his head between you thighs. christmas dinner is readyyy!

LORENZO BERKSHIRE:

༯ you made him a memory book, with all of your cinema, opera and theatre tickets, some pictures of you two and lot of lyrics from your fav songs. he opens it and a huge smile appaers on his lips. Enzo kisses you but it’s getting heated and what you can say? the whole neighbourhood knows your boyfriend’s name now.

BLAISE ZABINI:

༯ you got him concert tickets to Måneskin and he did his little happy dance then he takes you to the bedroom and he shows you how thankful he is.

DRACO MALFOY:

༯ you bleached blonde a lock of your hair for him and bought a poison green suit for him because you finally make him to meet your family. it’s the biggest gift for him because his exes didn’t introduce him as a boyfriend when he met their family. now he’s happy. he feels loved finally.

TOM RIDDLE:

༯ he told you that he wants you to be naked for a whole day when you started dating but you refused. now you give him that. he wakes up finally and you’re cleaning and decorating when he comes out of your room. he stops and ha asks you why are you naked, you answer him. don’t have to mention that he showed you how much he loves you everywhere in the house.

collab w @sunkissedscribbles

taglist: @sunkissedscribbles @kandis-mom @idkkkkkkk123lgb @nottslvttt

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lenoraslament · 10 months ago

Note

slytherin boys + edging/orgasm denial!!!

Thanks for the request!

Slytherin Boys React: Edging / Orgasm Denial

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, piv, oral (male and female receiving), degradation, orgasm denial, edging, smut with no plot.

Mattheo Riddle

“Add Ashwinder egg to a cauldron, then add horseradish and heat” Mattheo’s voice sounded strained as your head bobbed down on his cock. The sound of your gagging muffled his words so you pulled away as he groaned.

“What kind of egg?” Your eyebrow raised as he tried to grab your hair and pull you back. You smack his hand as he gives you a desperate look.

“Ashwinder…baby please” he mutters and you lick the head flicking your tongue over it.

“What’s next?” You asked as your tongue moves down the length.

“Anemone?” Mattheo asks as he grabs the bedsheets, his head falls back as he groans. You sit straight up and he panics. “Thyme? Occamy?” He grabs your wrist trying to pull you back, he’s aching and he bites your lip. Your head is shaking as you hop off, “Rue!? IS IT FUCKING RUE!?” He calls after you but you’re already walking towards his door giving him a devilish smirk.

“You really should study” you tease leaving him panting helplessly on the bed as he reaches for his potions textbook to find the recipe for Felix Felicis hoping he could still get lucky.

Theodore Nott

Your thighs burned, it was quite a workout. Theo’s head was thudding on the headboard as your rocked your hips back and forth on him. Your ministrations were slow and teasing. His knitted brow, mouth hanging slack as another low groan escaped his lips was worth how absolutely spent you were.

Just when you felt his legs begin to tighten you pulled away giving him a little slap on the cheek.

“Ah fuck” he muttered his eyes nearly rolling back as you ripped another climax away from him. He licked his lips as he looked at you half lidded, “No more teasing, let me fill you up” he muttered in his low voice.

“No” you said haughtily, “why don’t you ask Astoria to?”. Your cheeks were flushed with defiance. You caught them talking, no flirting in the common room.

“I don’t want her baby, I only want you bella” he said in nearly a whiny voice that made you grin.

You sunk back down on his aching, rigid cock as his lips let out another moan.

“Then say my name, and maybe I’ll let you come” you say and snap your hips forward to see if you can chase your own high before you take away his.

Lorenzo Berkshire

Enzo is flattered, tickled even when you tell him you want him to edge you. What the hell were you thinking? This boy researched. For hours. Reading articles, watching porn, asking his friends.

Your legs are tied to his bedposts, Enzo lays between them observing your impossibly wet pussy. It’s been nearly an hour, your back arches as you desperately seek out a means to an end. His fingers swirl around your swollen clit, eliciting a loud moan from you.

Enzo chuckles and dips two fingers into your cunt, listening to how loudly you cry out from barely any movement. The past hour he has edged you so badly, you nearly begin to beg when he pulls away again.

He ghosts his finger over your sensitive bundle of nerves and you come. Hard. You clench around nothing as your body finally gives in at the faintest touch.

“Holy shit,” Enzo says in a low voice. He didn’t mean for you to finish so soon, although just the sight of you letting go is enough to make him want more.

“Let’s do that again” he says.

Draco Malfoy

“Don’t be so impatient love,” Draco whispers as he slides his cock over your aching pussy.

“Once…Draco I said it ONCE,” you whine and your eyes roll back as you bite your bottom lip. Earlier in the day he had tried to pull you away from a conversation with Enzo. You made the mistake of rolling your eyes and telling him to “stop being impatient”.

You try and grind yourself up to meet him but he is quick to shove your hips down and onto the bed as he tuts.

“Baby please” you plead as he brushes a strand of hair out of your face.

“So needy for me pretty girl,” he says and shoves himself forward making you gasp. A few strokes and he’s gone again leaving you nearly clawing at his back for more.

Blaise Zabini

It was time for revenge. After he made you fall apart in the Great Hall you knew you had to get your boyfriend back. It was Friday night and another party in the Slytherin common room was in full swing.

You had on a short, black bodycon dress, no panties. There was work to be done. When you spotted your boyfriend he was laughing with Draco, already a few drinks down.

“I need you baby…now,” you muttered in his ear. He stood nearly immediately and began to lead you to his dorm. You shake your head and pull him down the hall, the sight of the broom closet makes him even more excited. Nothing gets him going like the taboo.

He’s ravaging your lips, neck, chest. When his hands reach your thighs and he realizes you aren’t wearing panties he groans loudly. You hitch your leg up on his waist as he fumbled with his belt. The two of you combined feverishly, he pushes into you with eager strokes.

It’s not long until you hear his breath hitch and you pull away so quickly he is breathless with confusion. You pull away with a wink and open the door, he scrambles to cover himself.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” He asked loudly.

“Save it for later I guess” you call back grinning.

Tom Riddle

“You think,” Tom snapped forward making your hips bite into the desk, “you’re so damn….” He pulled your hair making you flush to his chest, “funny”.

To be fair it was funny. Tom was in the common room, talking to Mattheo and Draco when you sauntered over. You sat on his lap, your lips moving to his ear, “I’m so wet right now,” you mumbled to Mr. No PDA. Tom’s eyes widened as Draco and Mattheo smirked at you straddling his lap.

He dragged you to his room shortly after, immediately bending you over his desk. His hands yanking your panties to the side as he pushed into you at a punishing pace. You weren’t mad about it, in fact it’s what you wanted.

“I am funny,” you tease defiantly. He pulls away turning you to face him. His eyes are pure rage, the quiet kind that actually makes you nervous. Tom lifts you onto the desk, he spread your legs and dropped to his knees, surprising you.

Under a vicelike grip on your thighs, he flutters his tongue softly, almost delicately. Tom does not usually go down on you, even though he is absolutely phenomenal at it. Within minutes you’re trembling, eyes rolling back so close to your orgasm you can nearly taste it.

Then he pulls away, wiping his mouth as he observes at your shocked face. Before you can protest he grins.

“See, I can be funny too”.

—————————————————

Actively taking requests!

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lenaswritingandstuff · 4 months ago

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Home • Mattheo Riddle x bff!fem!reader

Requested: No

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x f!reader

Summary: y/n wants to make something special for Mattheo's birthday, but little does she know how special it is about to get.

Word count: 3.1K

Warnings: Fluff; English is not my first language.

A/N: Thank you guys so, so much for over 300 followers, love y'all!! That said, I don't think I like this one lol. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Sorry for the typos. Hope you enjoy it! xx

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus @wolfyychan @blocked-zombieartist

Tag list for this story: @lilloves-34

“Aw, how lovely it is to see you two!”

“Hi, mum.”

Your mother held you warmly before turning to the person next to you.

“You’ve grown taller, Mattheo, dear.”

“As always, Mrs. y/l/n.”

She held him too, and Mattheo did his best to return the hug. His dark eyes turned to you and you offered him a small, affectionate smile. He suddenly looked more comfortable and smiled at your mother when she let him go.

“Leave your luggage here, dears, it can be unpacked later. Come, I’ve made you two some snacks.”

You and Mattheo follow her into the kitchen, and you can’t help but look at Mattheo. Partly because, well, it’s not like he wasn’t the most handsome boy you’ve ever seen, but mostly because you know he’s not always comfortable in your mother’s house, despite having living here for over two years now.

Mattheo and you had been best friends since your first year at Hogwarts. But as the years went by, knowing Mattheo was alone at Hogwarts during the holidays made you feel so upset that you started asking him if he wanted to spend it with you, which he accepted with a gratitude he had a hard time hiding. And, naturally, you also asked him if he wanted to come for summer break here as well. From the day Mattheo met your mother, she adored him and soon considered him a full member of the family, sending him sweets and gifts while at school just like she did for you, offering him gifts for his birthdays and Christmas as well, and he started coming every holiday without you asking him. You knew Mattheo was thankful for your mother’s hospitality and affection, as he always made sure to let her know, but you knew - despite him doing his best to hide it - that he felt that he somehow didn’t deserve the kindness and care you mother had shown him. It broke your heart to know he felt like that, but Mattheo wasn’t the kind to easily speak about his feelings so you never dared to bring it up, only sometimes telling him how happy you were that he was here, and that this house was his home.

But what your mother - or anyone else for that matter - didn’t know was that now having Mattheo around at all times was bittersweet for you. You absolutely loved having him in your house, where you knew he was finally loved and cared for, but it also made you two closer and made feelings for him grow - feelings you didn’t know were shared or not. It was slowly breaking you from the inside, and you didn’t know how to deal with it. Of course, you could talk about it with Pansy, who was your other best friend, or your mother, but you perfectly knew what they would both tell you: “tell him how you feel.” Merlin, no. You just couldn’t. Not only because if Mattheo didn’t feel the same way, your friendship would never be the same at best - or completely destroyed in the worst case scenario - and in both cases, you knew it wouldn’t take long for Mattheo to decide to leave your house. If I ever do tell him how I feel, it’s better to wait until we’re both out of Hogwarts and have our own places.

You walked in the kitchen to find your favourite snacks on the table.

“Aw, thanks, mum.”

“Yes, thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re more than welcome. Come, sit.”

The three of you sat around the table, you being next to Mattheo on one side and your mother on the other. You and Mattheo started eating while your mother asked about yours and Mattheo’s lives at school. You and Mattheo took turns in making conversation and even had a few laughs as you recalled some of the funny memories you had. After both your stomachs were full, you decided to go unpack your luggage. Mattheo had the same idea, and went to the bedroom that was now essentially his. You both finished at the same time, and found yourselves in the corridor of the second floor.

“I’ll go take a shower,” Mattheo said quietly. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.”

He walked to the bathroom, but before he came in, you called for him. “Matty?”

He turned to you and you continued, “As always, this is your home.”

He gave you a single nod before quickly turning away and going into the bathroom. Letting out a small sigh, you went down downstairs in the living room and found your mother reading a book.

“Mum?”

She raised her head from her book, “Yes?”

You sat on the sofa next to her, a small smile on your face.

“You know Mattheo’s birthday is coming up?”

“Yes,” she nodded, “I already got his gifts and have everything I need to make his favourite cake. Why?”

“Well,” you said, “I thought that we could do something else for a change. We usually have quiet birthdays and it’s nice but I’d really like to do something for Mattheo this time.”

Your mother frowned, “Like what?”

“A surprise party?” you answered. “I could write to the boys and invite them to celebrate?”

“That’s a good idea, darling. I’ll soon go to Diagon Alley to buy some decorations and, well, more food and drinks.”

You smiled and went to give her a quick hug. “Thank you, mum. You’re the best.”

The evening was nice and quiet, spent playing chess with Mattheo on the ground in the living room like you always did, with your mother playfully cheering on the one winning from the sofa. Mattheo and you laughed a lot while playing, and it warmed your heart to see him relaxed and happy. You knew he was usually shy in the first days he came here, and while you perfectly understood it, you couldn’t wait for him to be his warm, chill, funny self again. The Mattheo you knew and loved. After dinner, your mother went to bed and soon after, Mattheo and you decided to follow. You both went upstairs, and you then went into the bathroom to take a shower and put on your pyjamas. Mattheo had his own bathroom, and he was likely getting himself ready to go to bed. Once you were done, you went to your bedroom, and you weren’t surprised to see Mattheo casually laying on your bed. You went to close the shutters, and when you got in bed, Mattheo’s arms immediately wrapped around your body, and you put your head on his chest. Mattheo and you had taken the habit of cuddling to sleep since the first night he spent here, where a discussion before going to sleep ended up with you guys falling asleep and for some reason waking up in each other’s arms. You found that you slept way better in Mattheo’s arms, so much so that this situation continued in Hogwarts - and it was made easier by your roommate Pansy essentially spending all her nights with Blaise. At first, you just enjoyed the feeling of warmth and safety Mattheo’s embrace gave you, but as your heart started to feel more than friendship for him, cuddling, just like his perpetual presence, became bitter-sweet. You still loved cuddling with Mattheo, in fact you didn’t even know if you could even sleep without him now, but you wondered if it was a good idea to continue like this. But even if I decided it was better to stop, how do I tell him?

“You alright?” you whispered, raising your head to look at him.

He nodded, “Yeah. Why?”

“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable here. This is your home, Matty. And it will always be. But if you’re feeling something different, I want you to tell me.”

“I’m fine, y/n, really. I’m grateful for your mum and you, you know that. Don’t worry your pretty little head over me.”

He kissed your hair, his hands started gently caressing your shoulder and the middle of your back. Soon after, you felt yourself going to sleep, and thought you heard a voice saying “sleep well, princess.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The next following days, Mattheo and you spent all of your time together. Every meal, every activity - playing Quidditch in the garden, reading, studying, taking a nap - was done with him. You loved it, but it made it harder to write to Mattheo’s friends to invite them to the surprise party or to prepare the said party without him knowing, but you still managed to do it while he was reading a book in the living room. Thankfully, all the boys answered your letter and said they would come, and thankfully also, your mother had time to buy what was needed and had the idea to hide it in her room, where you and her knew Mattheo would never dare to go.

On the day of his birthday, you woke up once again in his arms, and kissed him on the cheek as he was slowly waking up.

“Happy birthday, Matty.”

“Thank you, pretty girl.”

You had managed to get Mattheo agree to go to Hogsmeade in the beginning of the afternoon to get his favourite sweets from Honeydukes so your mom could prepare everything for the party and welcome the guests. You spent some time here, and once you knew everything was likely to be ready, you and Mattheo got back home, and you had a hard time not smiling. But you also suddenly worried about how Mattheo would react. Last year, Theo had a surprise party and Mattheo was happy to help prepare it. But does that mean he wants one for himself?

You opened the door, and entered the silent house. Mattheo looked around the corridor, and put his bag full of sweets on the floor in order to take off his jacket.

“Is your mom here?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Let’s check the living room.”

Mattheo remained silent and approached said living room, and you had the biggest smile on your face when he suddenly stopped.

“Happy birthday!”

There was some cheering and applause, and Mattheo turned to you as you approached him.

“What-”

“It’s a surprise, Matty,” you couldn’t help but laugh at his confused face. “You deserved to have your friends and your brother with you today.”

He stared at you for a long minute, and you felt your heart beat faster, and he finally smiled at you.

“Thank you, y/n.”

You smiled back at him and gestured for him to go say hi to his friends, who were quick to wish him a happy birthday and greet him warmly, and his brother Tom, who was colder and more silent than the others. You looked around the room, and what your mother had done to decorate was incredible: there were numerous small fireworks up in the air alongside big golden letters saying “happy birthday Mattheo”, small decorations all around, and the long wooden table, usually bare, was also very much magically decorated. Mattheo hugged your mother to thank her while Pansy came closer to you.

“Well done, dear. If you’ve put it together for a friend, I can’t wait to see what you will do when you’ll be dating him.”

“Don’t start,” you warmed her. “Mattheo and I have always been friends and will always be.”

“We’ll see,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes and went closer to Mattheo. It was now time for him to blow out the candles and make a wish, and everyone was gathered around him as your mother brought his favourite cake decorated with whipped cream and full of magic candles.

“Happy birthday again, dear,” your mother smiled. “Make a wish.”

Mattheo closed his eyes for an instant and then blew out the candles. You applauded alongside the others, and everyone gave Mattheo their birthday gifts - books on Quidditch or history or wizards, Quidditch equipment, special quills, a watch - and then came your turn. Feeling your cheeks becoming red, you handed him your own gift, scared he might not like it. He unwrapped it and then saw the book.

“It’s, um, a photo album with some pictures we took along the years and, well, I wrote down some of my favourite memories with you.”

You heard some whispers among Mattheo’s friends - his brother Tom remained silent - but your only focus was on Mattheo’s reaction. He turned some of the pages, smiled at some of the pictures and read the memories you wrote down - and the note you had also written him about how much he meant to you and how special you genuinely thought he was. After a moment of apparently being lost in thoughts, he gently put down the book on the table near the others books he got and looked at you to give you a half-smile.

“Thank you, y/n.”

He gave you a quick, strange hug, and then turned to his plate. Feeling confused, you wondered if he truly liked the gift. You went to sit between your mother and Lorenzo, and as you ate the cake, you looked sometimes as Mattheo, who was now the center of attention, and as time went by, you saw him switching from his usual, funny self to a more quiet, uneasy self, barely listening to what Theo was saying to him. You guessed he was feeling overwhelmed, and as the others finished their plates and went to sit on the sofas, you saw Mattheo mumbling an excuse before leaving the room to go to the garden. You wanted to follow him to make sure everything was fine, but you knew he probably needed some time alone. After a while, you finally went outside, and found him sitting in the grass, lost in thoughts. You approached him slowly before sitting down next to him.

“Are you okay, Matty?”

He nodded, “Yes. Was it your idea to have this party?”

“Yes,” you said quietly. “Why?”

“Thank you, y/n. It means a lot,” he looked at the grass before shaking his head.

“You deserve it,” you said with a gentle voice.

“Actually, I’m not sure,” Mattheo said in a low voice, his head now down.

You frowned, confused. “What? Why?”

Mattheo turned to you and had a small sigh.

“Honestly, y/n. You and your mum have already so much for me. Letting me live here, giving me gifts, being there for me, and now this…What did I ever give you back? Nothing.”

You opened your mouth, but it took a few seconds to answer. “Mattheo, have you not read what I wrote in the photo album?”

He didn’t answer, still looking at the grass.

“Well?” you insisted. “What did the text say?”

“That you deeply cared about me,” he said, almost mumbling. “And that you thought of me as caring, and kind.”

“I meant it, alright?” you said in a more serious voice, wanting him to understand. “You’re the most exceptional person I know. You’re kind, gentle, funny, and caring. You’re a great friend to the boys, and you’re doing your best to have a good relationship with Tom, even when it’s not easy. You’re always there for me, you're always ready to spend time with me no matter the activity, and I know I always count on you whenever I need help or need comfort. You always know what to say, and you always listen to me when I have something to say. You’re also smart, and a damn good Quidditch player. I know you’re scared of becoming like your father, but I know you won’t. Because you two couldn’t be more different. And even if you started to be like him, we both know I’d smack some sense into you.” He had a hint of a smile and you went on, “Yes, sometimes you’re annoying and I think you love to fight too much, but nobody’s perfect, and I wouldn't want you to change for anything in the world. You’re the best person I know, Mattheo, and that’s why I’m in love with you.”

He whipped his head towards you, and that’s when you realised what you just said.

Oh, no. Oh, no. Merlin, no.

“I…Just…Forget what I said.”

You quickly rose up and almost ran back to the house, but you suddenly felt a warm hand on your wrist.

“Wait!” Mattheo said, “What the hell, you can’t leave like that after saying that to me.”

“Yes I can,” you retorted, panicking, “and that’s what I’m doing, just…forget it happened, alright?”

Mattheo let go of your wrist to run a hand through his dark curls.

“But, y/n, I can’t forget,” he said, frowning, as if it was obvious, “and I don’t want to. Did you really mean it?”

“Mattheo, I…”

“y/n, please,” he cut off more severely, both his voice and eyes now pleading. “Please, answer me.”

Doing your best to not look at him, you hesitated before nodding, feeling the need to disappear. He looked at you in a strange way, and you wondered what he was going to say.

“Look, Mattheo,” you started, “I know our f…”

“I love you too.”

It was now you turn to look at him with confusion. “What?”

“I love you too,” he whispered. “You’re…all I want, and all I need. You said this house is my home, but the truth is, you’re my home.”

All of a sudden, he stepped closer to you and brought his hand to your face, slowly caressing your cheek with all the gentleness in the world. You wondered what you should do next - put your hand on his? Put your own hand on his cheek? - but he made the decision for you, suddenly lowering his head towards yours.

“Fuck, y/n…”

And after that whisper, he pressed his lips on yours. It took you a few seconds to kiss him back, but when you did, he immediately grabbed your waist to pull you closer before putting a hand on the back of your neck. You let out a moan, and he deepened the kiss. You had a hard time believing what you had been dreaming for years now was actually happening but at the same time, Mattheo’s lips on yours and his hands on your body was all you could feel, all you could think about and all that mattered. When he finally pulled away, you were both out of breath.

“Does you saying that you love me and this kiss count as two more birthday gifts?” he suddenly asked.

“If you want,” you laughed.

“Then, it really is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

You both smiled at each other before he kissed you again before taking you into his arms, holding you as if he died if he let go. You held him as well, feeling that, wherever you were, Mattheo was also your home.

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riddleswhcre · 3 months ago

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────۶ৎ riddle's temptation

you're playing a dangerous game with tom riddle—sharp words, stolen touches, and a tension so electric it burns. he's unravelling you piece by piece, and the worst part? you don’t want him to stop.

warnings: smut, characters are 19+, p in v, fingering, spanking, age gap.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

the dining room shone with opulence, a sort of grandeur that appeared to be the property of the old money and of long lineages. crystal chandeliers cast soft shards of light across the walls, while the grand tablecloth lay over a table covered in ivory fabric with golden appliqués. in the ambient soft murmuring of people, conversation trailed into the noise, punctuated by the clinking of utensils against porcelain.

there you were, on the edge of the table, poised, yet paying careful attention to the fellow across the table. tom riddle.

it wasn’t just his presence—though he commanded a room effortlessly with his sharp cheekbones, dark hair slicked immaculately, and a piercing gaze that seemed to strip bare anyone it landed upon. no, it was the posture that he inhabited, languorous yet always master of himself, with a charm that was irresistible. your father had always been telling stories of his intelligence, charm, and cleverness. a trusted confidant, a man of remarkable intellect.

but he was far more than that to you.

the first time you had met him, you were barely out of school, just turned 18. and there was something about the fact that his dark eyes always lingered and, meaning to be critical, knowing and utterly smug, that was just off-putting enough. you had caught him looking at you on more than one occasion, his gaze burdened with a feeling you had the temerity not to reveal.

and tonight, right there next to each stolen look, tucked under the cotton of his every crisp piece, all felt like a game of roulette.

"you've really gone all out with this evening's meal," tom drawled softly to your father, his rich voice piercing the background a smooth surgeon's blade cutting through steel. “the perfect balance of indulgence and refinement.”

your father laughed, pride shining in his crinkles. “coming from you, tom, that’s quite the compliment.”

you tried to pay attention to the conversation, the flow of other voices in the background. but tom shifted in his chair, his arm brushing yours ever so slightly, and suddenly the air felt stifling. your pulse quickened, though you fought to appear unaffected. he looked at you and then, his lips gave a slight tilt into a smug smile and he spoke to you, in a low voice, barely audible.

“you’re unusually quiet tonight, sweetheart.”

the epithet sent a tingle up your back and you grabbed for your wine glass, wishing for something to anchor you. he was always like this, weaving a spell of subtle provocations and leaving you teetering on the edge of composure.

dinner flowed, laughter building up as mutual acquaintances reminisced and told tales. you kept a veneer of polite nods, and would get in on the conversation from time to time, but your thoughts drifted far and wide. each moment spent near tom felt like a tightening string, the tension building with every passing second.

the tablecloth covered much, draped thick fabric over thighs and knees. your hand rested in your lap, idly sketching patterns into the napkin that laid out before your thighs. tom moved forward a little closer, confiding in your father about a future business plan. his hand moved under the table edge as he talked.

at first it was only a very faint stroke, as light as, almost, you thought to be hallucination. but then his fingers pressed firmly against your knee. you stiffened, glancing sharply in his direction. he didn't stare at you, not even comment on what he was doing. his expression remained perfectly neutral, his tone measured as he engaged in casual conversation.

but his hand moved higher.

your breath caught in your throat, and you reached down from under the table and put your hand over his hand, in vain effort to stop him. his fingers did not slide, but stroked along in a focused manner on your thigh. you felt the chill of his ring on your skin, amidst the heat building up in your abdomen.

"darling," he murmured under his breath, tilting his head just enough so his words reached your ear alone. “relax.”

relax? was he serious? your father was only inches away, chuckling over something one of the others had said. you were surrounded by people, yet tom’s touch made the entire room fade into irrelevance.

he squeezed your thigh gently and your stomach churned. his hand didn’t wander further—he wasn’t reckless, not tom. no, that was computed, a bait to unseat you little by little. his thumb drew small circles against your skin, maddeningly slow, as if testing how far he could push you before you broke.

you turned your head to glare at him, your cheeks burning. at last, he locked his eyes with yours, his face unapologetically serene, yet his dark eyes sparkled with smugness and an even deeper, something unsettling, something that set your heart racing.

“careful, he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent heat flooding your cheeks. “you wouldn’t want to cause a scene, would you, doll?

the endearment trickled from his mouth like honey and your hand around the glass of your wine became tighter. he smirked, victorious, before finally withdrawing his hand. it was almost as negative not to have his feeling of touch in comparison to having it, as it left your skin with a feel of pricking and your mind in chaos.

tom leaned back on his chair, perfectly relaxed and went on discussing as if it had never occurred. but when his knee brushed against yours under the table, a silent promise lingered between you.

this wasn’t over.

the rest of the dinner felt like a fever dream. you responded when spoken to, nodded when required, and kept your eyes fixed on your plate far more than necessary. but tom, in contrast, was infuriatingly rational, and could be very sweet as he spun both jokes and personal stories. he looked just how the upstanding fellow your father worshipped would appear, but you knew better.

at long last the dinner came to an end and the guests made their way down to the adjacent drawing-room to have drinks. your father went out to chat with a friend by the fireplace, and left you briefly by yourself. and you sighed happily, able at last to let out a full exhalation. but the reprieve was short-lived.

“sweetheart.”

instantaneously, the voice was unmistakable, deep and resonant, making a quivering shiver run up your back. you swivelled round to find tom behind you, his countenance inscrutable, yet his dark eyes flashing with something you dared not to acknowledge.

“i believe we need to talk," he said softly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

you glanced around, your pulse quickening. the room was filled with people, yet none paid you any mind. he put out his hand and although you knew you should refuse, an entirely unspoken push moved you to accept it.

his hold was strong, his palm was warm as he led you through a narrow passageway to the side of the crowd. the noise of laughter and clinking glasses faded with each step, replaced by the pounding of your own heart.

he came to a halt in front of a door of heavy oak construction, and slid the door open with no effort. the room beyond was dimly lit, a study or library of some kind, its walls lined with shelves of leather-bound books. the air smelled faintly of aged paper and mahogany.

with the door shut with a click, the silence went on and on and on. you faced him, your throat tight, every urge pushing you back a few paces. but tom stepped closer, his movements unhurried, deliberate.

“you’ve been avoiding me all evening," he whispered under his breath, amusement mingled with a deeper, darker tone. “was it something i said? or perhaps something i did?”

you opened your mouth to speak, but the speech failed to get out. he took another step forward, his presence overwhelming, and suddenly he was close enough that you could see the faint shadow of stubble along his jawline, the cool glint of his signet ring.

“you shouldn’t have touched me," you managed, though the words came out far weaker than intended.

he cocked his head, his mouth forming the infernal smirk. “no? then why didn’t you stop me, darling?”

your breath caught as his hand went up and rubbed a stray piece of hair out of the way across your face. the sensation was warm, almost tender, yet it set your nerves on fire.

what do you think you are doing to me? he intoned, as his eyes lingered at your mouth for only a second before returning mine. “sitting there, looking so lovely, so untouchable. it’s maddening.”

“tom—”

he covered the gap between you in one smooth movement and his arms came to rest on your waist.

your protestations, tentative and feeble, became nothing more than mumble on your tongue as his thumb grazed against your hip, his caress both possessive and forlornly tender.

"tell me to stop" he choked, his breath a hot caress on your cheek. “if you want me to, tell me now, doll.”

but you couldn’t. the sentences just wouldn't appear, caught in the middle of your brain reels and the tingling, heady draw of his figure. he watched you very closely, his gaze searching, and when you did not answer, he came closer.

his lips brushed against yours, feather-light, testing. it wasn’t enough to claim but enough to ignite. when you didn’t pull away, he deepened the kiss, his movements slow and deliberate, as though savoring every second.

his fingers then went from the very centre of your waist to the lower part of your back, pulling you closer and you gave in, every grammatical notion melting away under the power of his hand.

"sweetheart," he whispered into your lips, his tone husky with control. “you’re going to ruin me.”

the words sent a thrill through you, a dangerous mix of exhilaration and fear. but you didn’t pull away. intead, you moved in closer, your fingers grasping the material of his suit jacket as if to tether yourself.

the sound of footsteps in the corridor pulled you back into the real world. you pulled away suddenly and breathlessly. your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. tom stared at you, his expression unreadable, though a flicker of frustration passed through his dark eyes.

“go back,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “before someone notices.”

he paused, his eyes meeting yours for only a beat longer before backing away. he adjusted his suit, composure returning with disconcerting rapidity.

"this isn't over," he murmured, his voice hushed yet promising.

and as you got out of the room, your heart beating, you realized he was right.

the laughter of the living room enveloped you as a wall when you turned back into the happy crowd, the cheer conflicting with the storm inside you. your father stood near the fireplace, engrossed in a story that had everyone around him roaring with laughter. there, to the side, tom was waiting.

a woman hovered near him—a brunette in a sleek, emerald dress that clung to her like a second skin. she was beautiful, poised, and entirely too close. her fingers brushed against his forearm as she giggled at some joke he made, a laughter which was, clearly, far too rehearsed and too predictable.

your stomach twisted.

tom looked unflinching, his dark pupils bouncing for a split second to hers then back to your father's group. however, there was a certain ease in his stance that set off a shock wave of anger in your heart.

you locked eyes on him, and for just a moment, something undecipherable came across his expression. then his lips quirked into a faint smirk, as though the scene unfolding between him and the woman meant nothing. however, it told a different story when her fingertips brushed against the fabric of his sleeve.

disgusted, you contort your expression—pain mixed with rage—while you make eye contact with him. his smirk faltered ever so slightly. good.

“i’m not feeling well," you announced, directing your words to your father but loud enough for the others to hear. “i’m going home.”

your father glanced at you with concern. “are you alright? do you need someone to escort you?”

tom moved confidently to the side, his voice a silky caress which gave your skin a tingle. “i’ll take her. it’s no trouble.”

you made a sudden right turn, forcing him off before he could get in the position to finish the closing distance. “no, thanks, you said coolly, letting your gaze dart pointedly to the woman lingering near him. “i’m sure you’re busy with far more important matters.”

the silence stretched for just a moment too long, but you didn’t care. ignoring the response, you turned on your heel and walked away from the room, the pressure of tom’s eyes burning your back.

when you got there, it was dark in the manor, the imposing hall in shadows illuminated by moonbeams streaming in through the window arches. your footsteps silently led you to the study, where you had to retrieve a book left there some time ago.

you heaved the massive door open and the smell of old leather and paper welcomed you. but as you stepped inside, you froze.

tom riddle sat in the chair near the fireplace, cloaked in shadows, his posture relaxed yet commanding. with one hand resting on the armrest and with the other hand holding a glass of brownish dark liquid that sparkled down in the dim light.

“what are you doing here?" you demanded, your voice sharp as you flicked on the nearby lamp.

the light revealed his face, his expression unreadable but his eyes gleaming with dark amusement. “you left so abruptly. i thought it best to check on you.”

you crossed your arms, refusing to let him see how much his presence unsettled you. “how considerate,” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “shouldn’t you be with your date? she might miss you.”

tom chuckled quietly, a reverberant, resonant sound only added to the annoyance. he swirled the glass in the palm of his hand, staring into you, maddeningly. “she means nothing," he said, his voice calm but edged with finality.

his indifferent manner just made the fire in your chest grow bigger and bigger. "you expect me to believe that?" you snorted as you took another step towards her. “after she practically threw herself at you all night?”

“you’re jealous," he said simply, as if stating a fact.

your anger surged, hot and unrelenting. instinctively, you lifted your hand to hit him, driven by the strongest, consciousness of that infuriating smirk of revenge retaken. but he moved faster.

his hand shot out grasping hold of your wrist with a firm grasp before your hand could get hold of it. the force of it jarred you off balance, and he sprang up from the chair in a single contoured turn, towering over you.

“careful, doll,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “you don’t want to test me.”

"release me," you snarled, struggling to break free from your armrest.

your chest visibly strained to maintain your composure, yet your gaze never wavered. “you’re insufferable,” you hissed.

a dark smile spread across his lips. “and you’re in need of a lesson.”

before you could answer, he got back in the chair, pulling you back in a single fluid, easy movement. as you yelped, you saw yourself lying across his laps, your belly against his thighs.

“tom!" you protested, trying to push yourself up, but his hand pressed firmly against the small of your back, holding you in place.

"you've had a quite a bit of attitude tonight," he remarked, deceptively neutral. his free hand rubbed against the backof your hip, his contact intentional and provocative. “it’s about time someone corrected it.”

“let me go,” you demanded, though your voice wavered.

he leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. “not until you’ve learned some respect, sweetheart.”

his words gave a chill on the back of your neck, a peculiar feeling between anger and an unexplainable type of emotion. he moved just so, his hand sliding up your back in a slow, steady swipe, and his touch set off every nerve it crossed.

“you can fight me all you want," he murmured, his voice low and smooth, “but we both know how this ends."

tom's hold on your waist squeezed a little tighter against his lap as you wriggled, your heart pounding in your ears.

"stay calm," he said, his voice quiet but bearing an imperative tone. it wasn’t a shout—it didn’t need to be. the implied control in his voice caused your suffering to fail, your breath to become faster in the freeze.

“tom, this isn’t—” you started, your voice wavering.

“isn’t what?" he interrupted smoothly, his hand resting just below the curve of your hip. the heat from the inside of his hand flowed through the fabric of your gown and set even your already frayed nerves on high alert. “isn’t appropriate? isn’t deserved?”

your jaw clenched, refusing to answer. that provoked a barely audible chuckle from him, a sound that was both irritating and seductive.

“i’ve let you push me too far tonight," he said, his hand sliding lower to rest on the curve of your thigh. his fingers pressed gently, a feather-light touch that sent a jolt of heat racing through you. “but that ends now.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you spat, though your voice lacked conviction.

“am i?” he mused, tilting his head slightly. or are you just terrified that you enjoy it when i run the show?

his words were like a spark to dry tinder, and you twisted in his hold, attempting to wriggle free. but his strength was implacable, his grip firm but not painful, a silent reminder of just how much he held the upper hand.

“stop squirming,” he murmured, his voice like velvet. “you’re only making this harder for yourself, sweetheart.”

your face burned from the double meaning, and you stared at him over your shoulder. “you’re insufferable.”

"and you," he said, putting his free hand gently on top of your thigh, stroking it in a disturbingly slow cadence, “deserve a bit of a lesson.

before you could think of a comeback, his hand lifted and came down in a sharp yet measured smack against the soft curve of your ass. it wasn't a painful sensation at all, that's more of a shock than such, but it sent a jolt of heat flooding through you nonetheless.

you gasped, twisting to glare at him. “tom!”

he smirked, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement. “that was for your attitude earlier,” he said simply.

“you can’t just—”

another light smack silenced your protest, his touch deliberate but not rough, as though testing your reaction. "i can and i will," he said, voice even, uncanny and unsettlingly composed. “unless, of course, you’d like me to stop?”

your heart beat frantically against your ribs in a conflict between outrage and something completely inexplicable. his question floated in the space, a proposition as much as a call.

when you didn't reply, this hand lingered on top of your thigh, his finger grazing in repeated deliberate circles onto your skin. the emotional weight of the movement ran through you, your body saying the millions of words the should be silent.

"nothing to say right now, hm?" he mumbled, lowering himself to where his lips grazed the hair of your ear. perhaps, after all, i've finally found a way to tame that sharp tongue of yours.”

you tightened your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. however, when his hand ascended further and his fingers spread across your upper thigh, a soft gasp escaped your lips before you could stop it.

"careful darling," he said in a low voice, his voice sibilant, combining threat and seduction. “i might start to think you’re enjoying this.”

your head snapped up, and you twisted again to face him, your cheeks flushed with indignation. “i’m not.”

“liar," he said simply, his lips curling into a smirk that was equal parts infuriating and devastatingly alluring.

his hand settled on your thigh, his grip firm but not cruel, holding you in place as though daring you to challenge him further. his weight on your hand sparked your thoughts to fly into a dizzy spin and every prick of his fingers faded the border between rage and something far more threatening.

the room was silent save for the sound of your ragged breathing and the faint crackle of the fireplace. his gaze bore into you, intense and unyielding, as though he could see every thought racing through your mind.

"tell me to stop," he said, for a second time, in a soft but insistent tone. “and i will.”

but you didn’t.

you remained silent, your breath shallow and uneven as his words hung in the air. his challenge was clear, yet you found yourself paralyzed, unable—or perhaps unwilling—to end this dangerous game.

tom’s smirk deepened as the seconds stretched, your silence speaking volumes. "that’s what i thought," he said, in a tone red with contentment.

his hand, still soft against your thigh, shifted a bit, his thumb moving in slow, deliberate strokes higher and higher. the motion was maddeningly light, his touch both comforting and infuriating, and you hated how your body responded despite your better judgment.

“look at you," he said softly, his voice low and intimate. “so defiant, so determined to push me away. and yet…" his thumb pressed a fraction harder, a small movement that sent a jolt of sensation racing through you. “…here you are. perfectly content to stay exactly where i want you.”

your breath hitched, and you struggled to muster a retort, but the weight of his hand, the steady cadence of his voice, unraveled the edges of your resistance.

"you’re insufferable," you hissed.

tom chuckled, the voice a low, resonant and smooth rumbling vibration through the air in between the two of you. “you’ve said that already, darling," he replied, leaning down so his breath ghosted across your ear. “it’s almost like you’re trying to convince yourself.”

his other hand then settled flat on the small of your back, pressing you down harder against his lap. the shift in position left you breathless, the heat of his body seeping into yours, and you felt every inch of his cock hard beneath you—his strength, his control, his relentless presence.

"do you know what i see when i look at you?" he asked, his voice a low hum that made your spine tingle. “a spoiled little girl who’s never had anyone dare to put her in her place.”

your eyes flashed with indignation, and you twisted in his hold, trying to push yourself up. “and you think you’re the one to do it?”

his grip tightened slightly, keeping you firmly in place. “oh, sweetheart,” he drawled, his tone laced with amusement, “i know i am.”

before you could argue, his hand went up once more coming down with another smack against the curve of your ass. the sound was sharp in the quiet room, but the sensation was more surprising than painful—a mix of heat and pressure that sent a flare of something unfamiliar coursing through you.

you gasped, your fingers curling into fists as you turned to glare at him over your shoulder. “you’re out of your mind.”

“perhaps,” he admitted with a faint smirk. “but i think you like it.”

his hand had evened over the point where he had landed as if to comfort it. the contrast left you reeling, your body at war with your mind as every nerve seemed to come alive under his ministrations.

“admit it,” he murmured, his voice soft but insistent. “you crave this. someone who won’t back down, who won’t let you hide behind that pretty little mask of yours.”

you tightened your jaw, refusing to provide him with a response. but the way your body betrayed you—the flush in your cheeks, the quickened rhythm of your breath—was answer enough.

tom's hand moved up higher, gliding over your waist, the feeling of his touch both possessive and calculated. "you can try to win this fight the way you see fit," he said, his voice dropping close to a hush. “but we both know the truth.”

he bent down and his lips grazed the shell of your ear. “you belong to me.”

the words sent a shiver through you, your resolve wavering as the weight of his presence threatened to consume you entirely. yet, as your physical body did so, your mind refused to yield to that defeat with debilitating obstinacy, refusing to be taken down easy.

you turned your head, meeting his gaze with a glare that was equal parts anger and vulnerability. “you don’t own me," you said, your voice trembling but firm.

his eyes darkened, his expression hardening ever so slightly. “don’t i?”

the challenge hung between you, heavy and charged, as his grip on your waist tightened imperceptibly. he didn’t strike again—he didn’t need to. the mere appearance of his was quite enough to make you gasp, every caress, every utterance, a preconceived manoeuvre in this ceaseless war of minds.

he shifted his hand, pulling your panties aside. his fingers hovered just inches from where you needed him most, but he didn’t touch—he lingered, waiting.

"i'm not moving my fingers until i hear you say you need me," tom said, his voice cold and controlled, his dark eyes burning with an intensity that left no room for refusal. he talked in a sharp, calculating tone, as if he enjoyed having the power over you.

your arousal was evident, as he could perceive your glistening form illuminated by the soft light in the room. you were undeniably wet for him, though reluctant to acknowledge it. "tom, please…" you uttered.

"please, what?" he whispered, his fingers drawing closer to your arousal.

"please, just touch me," you said, having reached your limit with his teasing.

that was all it took. tom's fingers brushed against you ever so lightly, trailing down your folds and gathering your arousal. "look at me," he commanded, as he brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting the evidence of your desire.

you gasped when his fingers trailed up to his lips, tom's gaze held yours as he tasted you, evoking a tingle through your cunt.

he withdrew his fingers from his mouth with a soft pop, then tipped them towards your aching pussy. "if i'm doing this, i need to make sure you're ready for me, sweetheart," he mumbled. softly, he began to slide a finger in, and with a soft whimper, he stretched your cunt.

he cautiously moved his finger, testing your response to gauge if it was too much for you. you wriggled a bit, not accustomed to the sensation, and your cheeks flushed with shame as a gentle moan slipped out of your mouth.

"don't be shy, sweetheart," tom commanded. "let me hear it all." you could feel him growing harder beneath your stomach.

he added another finger, curling them both inside you. that sensation induced a maelstrom of bliss, churning your guts in ways you hadn't even imagined were real. the slow, deliberate movements of his fingers inside you set your body on fire, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through you. as your moans grew louder, he quickened his pace, each motion bringing you closer to the edge.

"tom… that feels incredible," you whispered, your voice trembling with the intensity of the moment.

you wanted to look at him—at his face—feeling slightly insecure about the unfamiliarity of it all. turning your head awkwardly, you tried to catch a glimpse of him, despite the compromising position of being sprawled on your stomach across his lap. his fingers moved inside you, pushing you closer to the edge of your climax.

"not so fast, sweetheart," he drawled, pulling his fingers back and leaving you whimpering in rebellion. come on, get up," he said softly, and you complied, rising with a few hesitations to your feet.

"come here, doll," he coaxed, pulling you closer by the waist as you straddled his lap. "taste this for me—taste how wet i make you feel." he raised his fingers to your lips. you hesitated, looking up into his eyes. the focus of his stare challenged you to disobey him. at last you parted the rim of your mouth and allowed his fingers to enter your mouth.

"that's my good girl," he whispered, a proud grin crossing his lips. tom's fingers slid out from under your mouth, and a warm sensation that wouldn't go away remained on your jaw as he delicately held your chin. his was a firm but gentle pressure that led your face toward his and his lips captured yours in a lusty, passionate kiss.

he got to his feet and held you tight with his strong arms around your thighs, supporting you while your legs instinctively encircled his waist. your lips stayed closed, lips and breaths commingled into a sensual kiss increasing in depth with every passing moment. with careful precision, he carried you to the couch, lowering you gently onto the soft cushions. his body moved seamlessly between your legs, drawing you closer as the intensity of the moment surged.

"you're so perfect," he murmured, his voice low and filled with awe as his eyes traced every feature of your face.

your eyes shifted down to his lips, and a soft heat emanated up to the tops of your cheeks.

"thank you, tom," you said, your voice a bit shaky, but full of sincerity.

he shivered at the sound, his breath hitching. "say my name again," he pleaded, his tone raw with longing.

"tom," you murmured, the sound a feather against his ear as you brushed your fingers through his strands. gently, you got entangled in the silky fibres and pulled him towards you until without a space between the two of you the breath of your lips collided in a shorthand of passion and longings.

his lips gently but intensely travelled the whole of your face, never leaving unmarked. he creeped down to your neck, bouncing between quiet, wet kisses and playful, teasing bites that produced chills up and down your spine. each kiss ignited a flutter of butterflies in your stomach, a sweet ache of longing and excitement. as he continued his journey, his teeth and lips left a trail of delicate bite marks, little symbols of his possessive affection—marking you as his in the most intimate way possible.

he murmured something under his breath, his voice low and unfamiliar, laced with a power you couldn’t comprehend. even as you were processing it, clothes were vanished, perfectly stacked to the floor, like they'd been conjured up by some force unseen. a shiver ran through you as the cool air caressed your now-bare skin, your mouth falling open in both shock and awe at the sudden display of magic—magic he performed effortlessly, without so much as a wand.

"how–how did you do that?" you stammered, your voice shaking from both excitement and shock.

"shh," he mumbled, lips grazing yours as he kissed his way slowly down your chest. his hand tightened about your waist, possessively, a feeling impossible to shake, a promise of the marks you’d find in the morning—a reminder of this moment, of him.

his warm lips wrapped around your sensitive, hardened nipple, his teeth grazing it gently before his tongue soothed the spot with slow, deliberate strokes. the sensation sent a delicious shiver racing down your spine, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes, surrendering to the pleasure coursing through you. his eyes lifted, locking onto your face with an intensity that felt almost tangible, tracing every curve, every nuance, as if memorizing you in that fleeting moment.

your breath caught in your chest as you sensed the heat and pressure of his strong cock pushing hard against your wet little cunt, a sensetion that made a shiver run up and down your spine. his lips broke away your taut, sensitive nipple with a wet plop, leaving it it throbbing and wet from his focus.

unbroken, his mouth moved on down, the scrape of his teeth grazing your skin as he left a trail of bite marks blooming across your tender flesh.

the sight of his handiwork—of tom staking his claim in vivid, undeniable marks—made your pulse quicken, a wave of need pooling deep within your pussy. the thought of his mouth exploring every inch of you, claiming you so intimately, pulled a soft, involuntary moan from your lips.

“enjoying yourself already, doll? his voice was low and teasing, dripping with cocky confidence as his eyes locked with yours. there it was, that signature smug grin on his face, in part arrogant and part intoxicating. “i haven’t even started yet.”

you rolled your eyes, biting back a sarcastic remark, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. “i hate that stupid smirk of yours," you muttered, unable to stop the small hitch in your breath when his thumb brushed across one of the marks he’d made.

“sure you do,” he drawled, the grin widening as he leaned in closer.

he paused, taking a deep, steadying breath, his body pressed close to yours, radiating heat. his hand brushed against your hip, grounding you as he lined himself up with your entrance. slowly, he pressed forward, the slickness of his precum mingling with the evidence of your arousal. the head of his length stretched you in the gentlest way, teasing you as he slid just the tip in and out, building an unbearable tension.

then, in one swift motion, he pushed all the way in and burying himself to the hilt. the sudden fullness wrenched a soft scream from your lips, your body arching instinctively in response.

the stretch was overwhelming, the sensation brought tears to your eyes, hot streaks rolling down your cheeks, unbidden, as you tried to catch your breath in the midst of him filling you completely.

tom's face fell into the hollow of your neck, his breath hot and deep on my skin as a deep, booming groan echoed from tom. the tightness of your pussy around him made him lose composure for a moment. “you’re so tight," he murmured, his voice thick with need.

instinctively, your pussy clenched around him, and he let out a low chuckle, though his tone was edged with warning. “if you keep squeezing me like that, darling, i won’t be able to stay gentle,” he said, his teeth grazing your neck in a teasing bite that sent a shiver through you.

when he pulled back slightly, his gaze met yours—softened now as he caught the pained grimace that flickered across your face. you felt stretched, almost impossibly so. his brows furrowed with concern, and he leaned in to press a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as he whispered soothingly, “it’s okay, shh… it’s alright. i’ve got you." the reassurance was a mantra, spoken over and over as his thumb stroked your hip, grounding you.

“t-tom, it’s too big. i can’t,” you whimpered, your voice trembling with uncertainty. his lips closed into a subtle little smile, and tilted his forehead against yours while his eyes held forth deep quietness. "yes, you can," he whispered, voice firm and resolute, a vow in the incantation. slowly, carefully, he moved, his actions deliberate and measured, letting you feel every inch of his patience and devotion.

“i’m going to move now," tom murmured, his voice low and husky as he drew in a steadying breath. his gaze met yours, darkened with desire, as he crashed back into you. the sensation tore a sharp moan from your lips, the sound echoing in the charged space between you.

“oh, fuck, tom." you gasped, your voice trembling as his slow, deliberate movements made every nerve in your body ignite. the initial sting began to fade, melting into a swelling warmth that coursed through you, each thrust drawing you deeper into a haze of pleasure. he moved with an almost reverent tenderness, as though afraid to hurt you, and the care in his actions tightened something sweet and aching in your chest.

but soon, restraint gave way to raw need. his pace quickened, each thrust sharp, deliberate, and impossibly deep. instinctively, your arms wrapped themselves around his back, grabbing hold of him, and created faint indentations in his flesh.

“shit,” tom hissed, his breath hot against your neck. he gasped softly as your nails made their mark upon him, his urge to resist falling apart. then, with a muttered curse, he grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head. before you could object, the smooth fabric of his tie wrapped them around you, binding you with a grace that made your heart thud in your chest like a drum.

"as soon as you move your arms i’m stopping," he warned, growling voice. his gaze burned into yours, challenging and tender all at once. he shifted slightly, his hand slipping to your throat, the pressure firm but not unkind. his thumb brushed along your jaw as his eyes roamed over you, drinking in the way your body responded to him.

"fuck," he mumbled, rolling his head back as he thrust into you again, the impact rippling up his body. every time he went inside you, you could sense him straining, feel him getting harder, feeling the sensation of himself being consumed by sight and touch of you.

“you look so damn good taking me, princess," he rasped, his voice thick with reverence and need. his movements became almost frantic now, a primal rhythm driven by the way your body welcomed him so completely.

the way he moved, the way his intense gaze locked onto you, and the way he made your entire body hum with pleasure—everything about him was pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

your breaths came shallow, your body vibrated with the anticipation of the tightening of the coil of your climax within you.

tom noticed instantly, his sharp eyes catching every telltale sign. a slow, knowing smirk spread across his face as he shook his head, a dark chuckle rumbling from his chest.

“not so fast, doll,” he murmured, pulling out of you suddenly. the emptiness was unbearable, drawing a desperate whine from your mouth. he chuckled at your response, a deep, teasing sound that only deepening the ache in your core.

“tell me, darling,” he croaked, the sound a grating rasp as he drew in and out sharply. he was losing himself, you could feel it—the deliberate control in his movements betrayed by the way his breath hitched when he looked down, captivated by the sight of him disappearing into you. “are you going to misbehave again?”

“no! i won't, i won't—i swear", you choked, your words choked out into a whisper as the need consumed you. “please, tom, please…” you uttered with desperate pleading, almost a gasp, with every syllable wet with yearning.

that's my good little slut," tom snarled, his voice dripping with dominance as he thrust into you with unrelenting force. the impact sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, pulling a moan from your lips that carried his name like a prayer. your back arched instinctively, offering him more, needing him to take everything you could give.

"yes—please, just like that,” you gasped, your voice trembling with desperation. his hands gripped your hips, strong and possessive, his fingers digging into your flesh as he guided your body to meet his every thrust. the wet sounds of your connection filled the room, each movement driving you both closer to the edge.

his pace quickened, every stroke hard and deliberate, his breathing ragged and shallow as he neared his limit. without warning, his palm cracked against your ass, the sting sending another wave of heat pooling in your cunt.

“just like that," he snarled, through gritted teeth, the strain in his voice revealing how close he was. “such a good girl for me.”

you could feel his control slipping, as his movements became less controlled, more desperate. wanting to push him further, you tightened around him, squeezing him with every ounce of strength you had.

fuck," he grunted in a low, breathless tone, barely a human sound. suddenly, a spark of magic pulsed through the air, unseen but unmistakable. a new sensation bloomed at your most sensitive spot—an invisible force rubbing precise, deliberate circles. the pressure was overwhelming, dragging you to the precipice with dizzying speed.

a scream tore from your throat, his name spilling from your lips as the climax hit you like a tidal wave. your body shuddered uncontrollably, your release spilling over him, coating him in your ecstasy.

tom followed moments later, his grip on your waist tightening as he thrust deep one final time. his body quivered, a deep groan pricking through him as he came, his warm cum filling you. his pace slowed, his each shallow thrust until he finally collapsed against you, careful not to crush you beneath his weight.

his breath fanned against your neck as he rested there, the rise and fall of his chest soothing you as the aftershocks coursed through your body. he cradled you as if you were a treasure, bringing you back into the calm feeling of intimacy that remained after.

after a few moments, he slipped off of you, his movements unhurried but purposeful. stooping to the desk, he reached for a few tissues, putting himself in order first, before returning to clean you with the same meticulous care he always seemed to embody.

you turned onto your side, your gaze drawn to him like a magnet. tom riddle was many things—terrifying, enigmatic, commanding—but in this moment, as you watched him, he was utterly human. his usually immaculate composure had unraveled. sweat beaded on his skin, his dark curls plastered to his forehead. his chest rose and fell with deep, steady breaths, and there was something undeniably intimate about seeing him like this—disheveled, undone, because of you.

he returned to your side and knelt down, his sharp eyes softening as they met yours. the shift in his expression made your pulse quicken, your breaths shallow with a nervous kind of anticipation.

“hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low, intimate. “open your legs for me, just a little.”

you complied, the shivering in your body unmistakable as you spread your legs apart. his caress was soft and his fingers touched you with utmost care when he was cleaning you. there was no rush in his movements, only a quiet tenderness that made your chest ache.

unable to help yourself, you stared at him, the perfection of his features more striking than ever in the dim light. before you could think better of it, the words spilled from your lips “you’re beautiful.”

he came to a halt, his hand stilling as your sudden confession hung in the air between you. his gaze snapped to yours, and for the briefest of moments, tom riddle looked genuinely surprised. his cool veneer cracked, revealing a hint of vulnerability that you hadn’t expected to see.

your cheeks flushed in embarrassment, and you turned your face away, wishing you could take it back. however, at that moment he smiled—a guttural, deep laugh quite different from the crisp, parsimonious chuckles you'd heard before. it was a genuine laugh, warm and unguarded, and it made your stomach flutter.

“thank you, darling,” he murmured, his tone laced with humor but also with something heartfelt. he finished cleaning you with the same deliberate care as before, then rose to his feet. bending down, he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips warm against your skin.

as he turned to dispose of the tissues, you couldn’t help but smile, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you like a cocoon. in the silence, the truth of it all settled in: tom riddle wasn’t just beautiful—he was devastatingly so, in ways he probably didn’t even realize.

with a soft hum of magic, he made sure you were clean, the warm tingle of his spell a gentle caress over your skin. he went and grabbed something soothing out for you to wear, his actions relaxed, as if utterly at peace with the silences that surrounded him. carefully, he carried you to your bedroom, his arms steady and protective, and tucked you beneath the blankets with such tenderness it made your chest ache.

as he turned to leave, your hand shot out to grab his wrist. your grip was weak, but your expression said everything—you didn’t want him to go. a shadow of guilt flickered across his features before he gave you a small, almost apologetic smile.

“sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and edged with a wry humor, “your father would kill me if he found out about this." he paused, brushing a thumb over the back of your hand, his gaze softening. “how about i stay until you fall asleep?”

exhausted and too tired to say anything you could only nod, relief flooded through you. at that moment, a smile crept across your mouth as he crawled into the bed next to you and embraced you. his warmth enveloped you, the steady up and down of his chest relaxing you into a feeling of tranquility. he kissed your forehead, the press of his lips lingering for a beat too long, and whispered soft, unintelligible words that carried you into a dreamless sleep.

the next morning, there was quiet as soon as you got out of bed. you hadn’t expected him to stay, but his presence lingered in subtle traces—the scent of him still clinging to the pillow where he’d rested. it was heady, a blend of deep, sweet notes of sandalwood and amber, with a subliminal, bracing quality of cedar. you couldn't help but bury your face right into the pillow and take in deep breaths. the smell was unmistakable, his—a mixture that was all its own, as mysterious and alluring as the man was.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated.

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