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zelcii · 6 months ago

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Can i have Tom riddle X Hufflepuffreader angst

anyway I love your writing so muchh 💗🫶🏻

unnatural | tom riddle

she knew she was playing with fire when they met, so she couldn’t blame him when she got burned.

it was always there, that dark allure about him, the way he moved like he knew secrets about the world no one else could fathom.

tom riddle wasn’t supposed to be loved, and yet, she loved him. she couldn’t help herself—couldn’t help the way her heart quickened when he was near, the way she melted under his gaze, the way she lost herself in his cold touch. she was never like him; in more ways than one. she was a hufflepuff, kind-hearted and warm, everything that he was not. tom was distant, calculating, and colder than the stone walls of hogwarts, but he was magnetic. no one could deny that.

they started as a secret, a quiet whisper amongst stolen glances.

tom never promised her anything, and she never expected more than what he gave. but you have to understand when i say he gave her his all.

tom was supposed to be a fighter. a man with no weakness. but as he watched her get sorted, feelings started brewing, though he supposed he should’ve expected it.

he tends to want the things he can’t have.

so for months—for mere months was all he needed—he spent his every day pining for the hufflepuff girl in a very calculated manner. and once he had her, there was no way he’d risk throwing away the only chance he had at love. true love.

he tracked the routes she took to every class to increase his chances in initiating conversation. he observed her eating patterns, reserving her favourite desserts so he could be the one to serve them to her. he even tracked her cycle to act accordingly.

she once thought she was prepared for the inevitable. early into their relationship, she was nothing but cautious, never putting in enough effort to regret it once he would obviously eventually break her heart.

after all, tom was born for something far greater than a fleeting romance.

tom riddle was perfect, composed, and intelligent beyond measure, but the cracks were there—if you knew where to look.

she could see it every time he read a letter from his mother, the hint of disdain mixed with nothing but sadness towards her desperate words. she could see it when he held his breath, awaiting a grade for his exams, the way he both expected nothing but perfect yet continued to dread over the possibility of something lower (although it was a chance slim to none).

tom riddle was a puzzle of fractured pieces, all sharp edges and hollow spaces. there was an emptiness in him, something so profound it made her ache. and yet, in the quiet moments, when he let his guard slip—just for a breath—she could see something else.

he loved her. both of them knew it. there was something different about the way he looked at her. there was something raw and fragile churning in his merciless heart that he feared, and it held him back from ever truly keeping her.

he wanted her out of his life because it couldn’t have been natural. tom had fully convinced himself that he was utterly unloveable and that he himself, a product of a blatant breach in all magical and natural laws, shouldn't have been able to love someone so much. yet he knew that what he felt for the girl was pure, unadulterated love.

at sixteen, tom killed his father.

he never felt more free.

it was clear then that the longer he held onto the notion of love, the harder it would be to achieve the very things he believed he was born to do.

so he pushed the girl away. his girl.

it broke him how she held on to every string that tied the two of them together. she held on because love was meant to be messy, wasn’t it? love was supposed to hurt. but oh, how it hurt.

he left after two short years—no words, no explanation—at the ripe age of seventeen. he had said that he had plans for a greater future. plans for a life worth living. and after all is done and every prophecy is fulfilled, he would come back to her, his only love.

then tom had simply walked away, leaving nothing but the cold space where he’d once stood and an empty promise of “one day.”

she cried. but not because she was surprised. no, this was very much expected if not inevitable.

she cried because, in that moment, she realised just how far gone tom was. she cried because he had lost himself in the heat of what he believed to be his destiny.

in the dumbledore’s office, harry stood idly by the pensieve watching as the old wizard spoke to him, explaining to him to find the one memory that recalled the very moment in which the dark lord decided to devote his life to his violent cause.

“it is time, now that you know what prompted Lord Voldemort to try and kill you fifteen years ago, for you to be given certain information,” albus mumbled as he stirred the magical liquid, beams light dancing above.

“whose memories will these be?” the boy asked, watching the light dance around the bottom of the basin.

“a hufflepuff’s,” the professor answered curtly.

harry stood with his hands on either side of the stone basin, before dunking his head into the liquid light.

the first thing he recognized was the astronomy tower, stars dancing just outside the large arched windows of the building.

the next thing is tom marvolo riddle. he looks young, a little younger then he’s used to seeing him, though familiar. his eyes droop, heavy but his jaw is clenched tightly, a subtle anger that he rarely wore on display.

but then a girl, no older than tom, entered the room from the long, precarious staircase. harry had never seen her before.

“tom,” she uttered breathlessly.

“love, i told you, we cannot meet like this,” he whispered firmly, his tone reprimanding. but harry could see the way his eyes softened at the sight of her. he saw the way the tension in his jaw faded, the way his brows knitted ever so slightly in concern, and the drowse in his eyes melting away in an instant.

not to mention the warmth in the way he called her love with such ease.

after all, the hufflepuff was still tom’s love; he was simply setting her aside to focus on things he found far more important.

"but i need you," she said, frustration creeping into her tone. "i know there are… other things you care about, but i can’t shake the feeling you don’t want anything to do with me anymore—"

"now, i never said that," tom replied, placing his hands on either side of her face, eyes calm. "i only ask for time, my love."

it took her a moment, searching his eyes for a meaning that went on deeper than his words.

"your love?"

"my only," he confirmed with a steady nod.

she took a breath, but her brow stayed furrowed.

"your only?" she repeated, a mix of disbelief and exasperation slipping through.

before tom could answer, she shook her head, letting out a frustrated huff. she knew there was always something else that held his heart just a little more tightly.

“hey, no. what was that?” tom asked firmly, his hands moving from her face down to her squared shoulders. he was referring to the way her eyebrows knitted together, tempting him to lift his hand up to smooth out the creases.

harry watched, feeling a strange pang in his chest as he witnessed the tenderness in tom's touch—something he never could have imagined coming from voldemort.

the girl, however, wasn’t easily soothed.

“tom, i hate this," she admitted, her voice quieter now, laced with something close to desperation but grounded in stubborn strength. "i hate that i have to compete with your... obsession. am i even enough for you? really?"

tom hesitated, his gaze flickering, and for a moment, harry thought he saw a hint of doubt cross the future dark lord’s face. tom’s fingers tightened slightly on her shoulders. harry could tell the girl noticed it, too. all three of them knew tom wanted more.

"you are, my love," he replied, though there was a rare, unsteady note in his voice. "i promise you—no matter what happens, i will make it out of this alive. i’ll come back to you, and then we’ll have everything. together.”

she held his gaze, a glimmer of belief in her eyes, but there was a lingering sadness, too, one harry could feel even through the distance of a memory. her fingers slid down his forearm, clasping his hand tightly, almost as if she were grounding herself in his touch.

harry’s heart sank as the memory faded, his mind already piecing together what it all meant, feeling an inevitable, dark realisation set in.

for tom to get her back, harry would need to be removed from the equation. tom’s only way to keep his promise, to return to his “only love” was by ending harry’s life.

#tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle #tom riddle angst #tom riddle x reader #harry potter x reader #x reader #marauders #marauders x reader #maybe in another life #fanfiction #fanfic #harry potter #half blood prince #lord voldemord #angst #fiction #fandom #hp fandom

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sativariddle · 1 month ago

Text

USING YOU? ꒰ t.r. ꒱

ㅤ────── ❝ over before it even started. ❞

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ navigation.

warnings: mentions of foul language, sub!tom, riding, heavy smut. fingering. read at your own risk or whatever.

author’s note: if you don’t enjoy my content, there’s no need for you to stick around. i’m not responsible for what you choose to engage with. like, do you wanna get slutty or nottt?!

TOM RIDDLE NEVER ASKED. he simply made his intentions known in that direct, summed up way of his — the kind of way that left you questioning if he’d truly meant it or if you’d simply imagined the entire interaction.

everyone in the godforsaken castle knew about your little crush on riddle, with whispers and teasing smirks following you down every corridor. you prayed the rumors hadn’t reached his ears - but judging by the way he was looking at you now, they definitely had.

it had been late, the library nearly empty. he’d slid into the seat next to you, dark eyes lazily tracing the curve of your neck, the hollow of your collarbone beneath your uniform. he always had this way of looking at you; like he knew exactly what thoughts were running rampant inside your head before you’d even thought them. knew you’d let him ruin you if he asked.

“if you’re going to keep staring at me like that every day, you might as well make yourself useful.”

you’d blinked, heat crawling up your spine, but he hadn’t flinched. he’d simply leaned back in his chair, fingers intertwined against his chest, waiting for your response - as if the result was already decided.

you hadn’t even said yes. but he’d known you would. and that’s when it started.

that’s when he leaned in, lips brushing yours like it was unavoidable — like he’d been waiting for you to finally catch up. that’s when you kissed back, hesitant at first, until his hand tangled in your hair and pulled you closer. that’s when he deepened the kiss. that’s when his hand slid up your thigh, fingers trailing beneath your skirt in lazy, unhurried strokes. that’s when his touch dipped higher, knuckles brushing against the damp heat between your legs, making you gasp into his mouth. that’s when he moved your underwear aside; so smooth, so practiced - like he’d known exactly what he’d find there.

that’s when he slipped a finger in - a single, slender finger that left you trembling against him. that’s when his mouth found yours again, swallowing the sounds spilling from your lips as if he’d planned to silence you all along.

after that day, that was when he became obsessed.

it shocked you at first - the pleasure unraveling through your body so effortlessly. tom riddle had never once left you unsatisfied, his touch intentional and precise, like he knew exactly how to unravel every inch of you. what surprised you most was how selfless he was, always ensuring your release came before his own. you never imagined he could be so… giving.

it was almost laughable - everyone in the castle was convinced riddle only sought his own release, leaving his partner to fend for themselves. if only they knew how utterly wrong they were.

“-ugh … riddle,” you whisper, his name tumbling from your lips - fragile, breathless, and utterly wrecked. the sound seems to unravel something in him, dark eyes flickering with something primal. his fingers dig into the plush flesh of your thighs, keeping your legs spread wide as he thrusts deeper, dragging along your walls until he finds that perfect spot hidden inside you.

a broken cry escapes your throat, vision blurring as white hot pleasure sears through your body. “yeahhh,” he murmurs, voice low and dangerous, his breath ghosting across your parted lips. “you feel me there, don’t you?”

he sets a brutal pace, hips snapping forward with exactness — figured, like he’s taking you apart piece by piece. the headboard creaks behind you, and the scent of sweat and sex clings to the air. your blue nails rake down his pale back, leaving faint red marks in their wake, but it only seems to spur him on.

each thrust echoed through the room, wet and obscene, the friction between his cold skin and your warm, aching cunt sparking an unbearable pleasure. your knees were tucked tightly to your chest, leaving you completely at his mercy. his pale, rigid dick dragged in and out of your heat, every movement sending shocks through your overstimulated body. your breasts bounced with each forceful snap of his hips, and your mouth hung open, spilling the filthiest sounds he’d ever heard - each sweet little broken moan only fueling his desire.

his name continued to fall from your lips over and over, each breathless moan a symphony to his ears. the pressure coils tighter inside you, threatening to snap, and the faint smirk tugging at his lips tells you he knows exactly how close you are — how completely he’s unraveling you beneath him.

a shaky hiccup escaped your lips, breaking through the soft, wrecked moans filling the dorm. his cruel chuckle echoed in your ears, dark and teasing.

“so full of my cock it’s making you hiccup,” he murmured, voice dripping with satisfaction. his fingers traced along your trembling thigh, the possessive touch sending a shiver through your overstimulated body. “poor little thing - can’t even handle it, can you?”

“i can… ah—” your breath caught in your throat as tom’s dick slammed into that devastating spot inside you, making your pretty eyes flutter shut. “you can what?” he taunted, his voice dark and smooth, fingers tapping your cheek twice in mock encouragement. “didn’t finish your sentence.”

your mouth hung open, but no words came - just broken squeals and helpless moans spilling from your swollen lips. the pleasure was too much, mind fogged and body pliant beneath him. “that’s what i thought,” he murmured, smirking down at you. “too dumb on my cock to even speak.”

weeks blurred together, and somehow you’d become his. though he never called you that - never labeled whatever strange, consuming thing was happening between you. he didn’t have to. the way his hand would find your wrist beneath the table in class, the way he’d tug you into dark corners when no one was looking, the way his mouth would brush over yours in heated silence - it was enough.

it should’ve been enough.

until your friends started whispering.

────────────

“he’s just using you.”

“tom riddle doesn’t date - he collects.”

“have you ever even talked about anything… real?”

────────────

you’d tried to brush it off, but their words wormed into your brain like a sickness - festering, gnawing. the thing about tom was that he never gave too much of himself away. he always held something back, just out of reach, tucked behind that perfect, composed mask.

but maybe that’s all you ever were to him - a quick little fuck, a convenient toy to play with whenever the weight of the world pressed too heavy on his shoulders. he never even asked you to be his girlfriend - never promised you anything. but he didn’t have to, did he? tom riddle didn’t need to spell things out - not when he could wrap you around his finger with a glance, not when he’d grown up learning how to survive without softness.

still… you didn’t want to make excuses for him. not when the ache in your chest refused to be silenced. not when you couldn’t tell if he’d ever really wanted you - or if he’d simply known you’d give yourself to him without question.

and once the doubt settled in, it wouldn’t leave.

that night, your body was pressed against his - straddling him in the glow of the firelight, your palms splayed flat against his chest. he was cold beneath you, shirt half unbuttoned, shadows carving out the sharp lines of his collarbones.

his hands traced lazy circles against your thighs, but there was no urgency - like he was waiting for you to break.

“you’re thinking again.”

his voice was low, bored.

you tensed. “no, i’m not.” tom’s mouth curved into that familiar half smirk - the kind that made you feel like he’d already won some game you didn’t even know you were playing.

“don’t fucking lie to me.”

his fingers slid higher beneath your shirt, brushing feather light along your ribs - but you flinched.

barely. but he noticed. he always noticed.

his hands stilled.

“talk.”

you shook your head quickly. “it’s nothing.”

a dangerous flicker crossed his face - gone as quickly as it came. his fingers flexed against your hips, holding you in place, not hard but firm.

you weren’t going anywhere until he got what he wanted.

“speak.”

it was a command - cold, direct.

your throat felt tight. the silence stretched out, pressing against your ribs until the words finally cracked free.

────────────

“he’s just using you.”

“tom riddle doesn’t date - he collects.”

“have you ever even talked about anything… real?”

────────────

“i feel like you’re using me.” you paused. “for sex.”

the second it was out, you wished you could take it back. tom didn’t move. didn’t blink. he just stared - dark eyes pinning you down like a knife pressed against your throat. he could have denied it. he could have called you paranoid, laughed it off like the cruel bastard you knew he was capable of being. but he didn’t.

he just sat there - silent.

and somehow that was worse.

“say something,” you whispered, voice barely holding steady. his fingers dug into your hips just enough to hurt.

“use me.”

you blinked, the words slicing through the thick tension.

“what?”

“you think i’m using you.” his voice was infuriatingly calm - icy, cutting through the haze between you. the cold detachment in his tone made your heart ache, a sharp twist beneath your ribs. your breath caught, lips parting to argue, but he leaned in, dark eyes burning into yours.

“so use me.”

the command hung heavy in the air, daring you. confusion flickered across your face, but he only pressed closer — his voice dropping lower, rougher. “use me… and you’ll see the fucking difference.”

“that’s -”

he leaned in slowly, his breath warm against your jaw. “punish me for it.”

it was cruel - the way he handed himself over like that. like he was daring you to break him the same way you think he’d been breaking you for weeks. your heart clenched, but the anger flickered beneath the surface - hot and reckless. he wanted you to prove something, wanted you to lose yourself trying.

so you did.

he hadn’t denied whether it was true or not, letting a blend of hurt and heartbreak swirl into one bitter, filthy smoothie.

“sit on the chair and take off your clothes.”

he obeyed without question, dark eyes locked on yours as his hands reached behind him, grasping the fabric of his shirt. in one swift motion, he peeled it off, the lean muscles of his torso flexing beneath pale skin. he didn’t break eye contact - not even as his fingers moved to the waistband of his trousers, pushing them down along with everything else until he stood bare before you.

heat licked at your spine as he took a slow step back, lowering himself into the chair. his legs spread wide, confidence dripping from every movement - daring you to look, daring you to take.

you left your clothes on — only slipping off your panties, letting your skirt and blouse remain in place. his eyes tracked every step you took, dark and uncompromising, as if he hadn’t blinked once. the air felt heavier as you reached him, the heat between you crackling. slowly, you lifted one leg over his, straddling him. hands twitching at his sides, but he didn’t touch you: not yet. he just watched, gaze burning into you like he was memorizing every inch of your body.

you kissed him hard - teeth scraping against his bottom lip, nails dragging down his chest hard enough to leave red streaks behind. he let you. he wanted you to. his breath pitched when you pulled at his hair, when your mouth found the hollow of his throat: but he never touched you.

not unless you guided him.

not unless you asked.

you trailed your lips down his neck, pressing firm kisses that quickly turned into biting marks. your teeth scraped against his skin, leaving dark bruises in their wake. you coated him in your saliva, marking him, claiming him with every touch, every kiss that grew more critical and possessive.

he hadn’t made a sound yet; his breathing was quickening, but otherwise, he was keeping it together.

you shifted your hips, your entrance teasingly grazing against him as you positioned yourself, but you held off from sliding down just yet. his breath hitched. "you want to stay quiet? that's fine, but when i’m fucking you, i don’t want any touching from your end, or i’ll stop," you said, locking eyes with him.

he tilted his head up to meet your gaze and nodded in agreement. "use your words." his lips parted as if to respond, but he collected himself. "yes. yes, i'll make noise when instructed, but otherwise i’ll remain silent."

“good,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “good,” you repeated, this time placing a gentle kiss on his other jaw.

you lifted yourself slightly, glancing down at him with a teasing smile. “help me out, yeah?” you whispered, your voice a seductive murmur that sent a shiver down his spine. he was utterly captivated, powerless to resist your request. with a deep breath, he wrapped his fingers around himself. you took a moment to align yourself perfectly, feeling the heat radiate between you.

you began to slide down slowly, the sight before you was mesmerizing, his face contorted in a mixture of pleasure and surprise as you took him fully, inch by exquisite inch. you reveled in the way his head tilted back against the chair, chin raised high as if to savor the moment entirely, his eyes locked onto yours with a look that made your heart race. mouth hung agape, breath coming in shallow gasps yet no sound escaped his lips - such an obedient and attentive listener, utterly captivated by you.

“good?” you asked playfully, a soft, teasing squeal escaping your lips as tom inhaled deeply, the air catching in his throat. the movement shifted you slightly in his lap, and you felt the unmistakable brush of him against that oh so sensitive spot, sending a rush of pleasure coursing through you. you arched an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in your eye. “answer me, or i’m leaving."

"'s good," he said, swallowing hard as you began to move. both of your hands gripped the back of his chair, pulling yourself closer to him, causing your breasts to press together right in front of his handsome face.

you rode him slowly, hips rolling in gentle circles. his hands gripped the arms of the chair tightly as you used him for your pleasure. the sight of your tits bouncing in his face was driving him wild. he leaned forward, catching one of your nipples between his teeth and biting down lightly.

“-ugh…” you grunted, your body stiffening as you paused on top of him. “thought i told you, no touching,” you said, the words coming out sharp. you pushed yourself off him, and you heard him mutter a curse under his breath, barely audible.

“i won’t do it again, i swear to you -“ he hesitated, his words faltering as he reevaluated what he was about to say. he seemed to reconsider once more, letting out a frustrated sigh. his voice dropped so low, a quiet plea that made you stop for a second.

“…please.”

how could you possibly say no? how could you resist the sight of tom riddle, a pleading mess before you, legs spread wide. his eyes, typically sharp and commanding, were now filled with a raw, desperate yearning, a blend of lust and pleading that sent shivers down your spine.

rather than straddling him again, you stepped away and turned around. “when i say no touching,” you said firmly, “i mean no fucking touching.” with your back to him, you tilted your head just enough to lock eyes, catching the small nod of his head in response.

you lifted your hips and lowered yourself onto him, the slickness of your body and the pre cum on his dick making it effortless to ease in. with both hands gripping the armrest of the chair, tom's own hands held tightly onto the chair as well, while your back remained turned to him.

you began to bounce energetically, gathering your hair to the side so he could have a clear view of your bare back.

“why...?” tom inhaled sharply as you gently tightened around him, drawing him deeper into you. “why did you say you feel like you’re being used?”

you barely processed the question, lost in the pleasure that kept you swaying to that familiar rhythm, your eyes closed as soft moans and whimpers slipped from your lips. “...my friends,” you murmured, the words hardly registering in your mind. “they said you — ohhh.” tom began to thrust gently, mirroring your motions.

you attempted to continue, “they said you were just using me... got in my head and - ah.”

you arched your neck to watch him from behind, your mouth still slightly open as you drew back completely before sinking down again, causing his right leg to lift ever so slightly. the sweet pleasure clouded both of your minds. “ — and i began to wonder myself…”

he let out a soft mix of a hum and a whimper in response, sensing the way your thrusts slowed down. he instinctively thrust his hips to assist you, the lift of his leg allowing him to hit a spot that made you cry out in pleasure. “ah - ah - ah.”

he was finding that ideal spot, a place even more enchanting than the infamous g-spot. “right there. right there,” you urged, and he complied, not just because you asked, but because the sounds you were making were driving him to the brink of oblivion.

your head was thrown back so far that the tips of your hair brushed against riddle's stomach. unable to touch you directly, he settled for your hair, twirling the strands around his cold, slender fingers.

with one final thrust of his hips, a wave of ecstatic release washed over you, bringing tears of pleasure to the corners of your eyes as tom felt your warmth envelop him. he continued to ride the wave of your high, savoring every sound you made.

"where do i come?" tom's voice cracked, desperation evident. "please tell me where - where -“

"inside. please, inside." the words made him melt, and as he filled you up, you managed to lift yourself, settling back down and riding him through his climax while his eyebrows furrowed and his legs twitched.

by the time you both reached the end, the room was heavy with the scent of sex. the moment it was over - when your heart began to slow and the fog of desire lifted - you sensed it. the shift.

tom sat up, dragging his shirt back over his shoulders. his face was utterly blank - distant.

you reached for him without thinking, but his hand caught your wrist mid air. his eyes flicked to yours, dark and endless.

“it’s over.” the words struck like a slap - sharp, final, leaving no room for argument. “whatever this was… it’s done.”

your breath caught in your throat.

“what?”

tom’s grip loosened. he stood, buttoning his shirt with those long, steady fingers. “you wanted to know if i was using you.” his voice was as smooth as ever. “now you do.”

confusion flickered across your face, prompting him to sigh. “if i were just using you, i wouldn’t be walking away right now. but if you feel like that’s the case… suit yourself.”

he’d always had a little crush on you - you were smart and didn’t pester him like most people did. since you had a habit of avoiding people you liked, he just assumed you weren’t particularly fond of him, and he was fine with that. he never once tried to make a move, held back by the rumors of you dating other blokes. but the second he overheard a fourth year claim you supposedly had the fattest crush on him, he didn’t let a single flicker of emotion show. “i simply have more important things to worry about,” tom told them coolly — though beneath the surface, he was fighting off the ugly rosy pink creeping up his pale neck.

he never used you just for sex - he could have any girl on her knees with nothing more than a glance. what he wanted was you - your presence, your company, even if he had a strange way of showing it. but the second you doubted him, it was over. he’d never thought he’d beg for anyone - not in this life or the next - until now. and hearing you accuse him of using you cut deeper than he’d ever admit. if that’s how you felt, then so be it. he’d leave: whether you wanted him to or not. whether you changed your mind didn’t matter - you still thought it. and to him, that was enough.

your chest caved in on itself, the ache spreading through every inch of you.

“i didn’t -“

“next time,” he cut in sharply, gaze flicking up to meet yours, “don’t believe stupid lies your friends tell you.” and then he was gone: slipping out the door without another word. leaving you alone in the dark - with the taste of him still on your tongue and the hollow ache still blooming in your chest.

idk how to feel about this lwk.

#*ੈ🍃 ݁༉‧₊˚.sativariddleworks.#tom riddle #harry potter #hp fandom #fanfic #hp marauders #hogwarts houses #hp smut #theodore nott #voldemort #tom marvolo riddle #lord voldemord #smut

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