#professor tom riddle x you

[slytherinboysappreciation]

Bullied - Prof. T. R. x platonic gn!Reader

A/N: this was originally written for this request, but I realized it was too angsty so I made it its own thing. Please read the warnings carefully! They’re there for a reason! This fic is completely unedited with no use of Y/N. Please be nice, I’m an inexperienced writer 💛 Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated!!

CW: Bullying!!; descriptions of bullying; crying; shame; graphic descriptions of violence/injury!!; anxiety; mentions of the quills Umbridge used; detention; mentions of eating; Prof. Riddle becomes a safe space for reader; swearing; derogatory language towards reader; graphic descriptions of violence against reader!!!!; nausea; head wounds; vague mentions of blood; Dumbledore bashing; hurt/comfort, I guess; slightly fluffy ending?

I think that’s everything. Please please let me know if I’ve missed anything! If you don’t like it, don’t read it!!

2019 words

You were hiding in a corner of the library, silently crying. The library was your safe space; the only place in the whole school aside from your dorm where you didn’t have to worry about getting bullied.

And it had been invaded. Your bullies had come in today, destroying your peace with the very sight of them. Even worse, they’d ripped your books and blamed it on you.

Madame Pince had been thankfully skeptical, but the three of you still got detention. You were terrified of being in the same room alone for hours with those two.

As you sniffle and wipe your eyes, the sound of footsteps approaches your spot. You huddle up into a ball, hastily wiping your face in an attempt to hide that you were crying.

“You should be in bed.”

You look up, startled. It’s Professor Riddle, looking down at you with an unreadable expression.

“I— I was—“ You falter, unsure what to say. Telling the truth hadn’t worked with your head of house. There’s no way you’d expose your deepest shame to someone as imposing as Professor Riddle.

“Yes, sir,” you say meekly, slowly picking yourself up.

He watches you, hands tucked into his pockets. “Everything all right?”

Your eyes start to itch from crying so much. You rub at them before catching yourself. “Yes, sir. Just…”

He holds up a hand and pulls something out of his pocket. A handkerchief. “Next time, come to me.”

You take the handkerchief slowly. Next time… Was he saying… You couldn’t risk it.

“Yes, sir,” you mumble, starting to back away. He stops you with a hand on your shoulder.

“I mean it. Bullying has no place here at Hogwarts.”

You stare down at the floor, frail hope fluttering in your chest. You squash it with both hands.

“Thanks, Professor,” you say quietly. “But I’ve heard that before.”

With that, you shrug off his hand and walk away, clutching his handkerchief like a lifeline.

Your detention comes late the next night. You’re fully prepared for the usual horrors. Being forced to clean suits of armor by yourself until your fingers crack and bleed from the chemicals. Scrubbing floors till your knees are bruised and you can’t feel your arms.

Being a guinea pig for whatever malicious spell the two bullies of yours have cooked up.

Instead, you receive a different set of instructions. Your two bullies will be cleaning floors and suits of armor.

You will be writing lines with Professor Riddle.

You stare blankly at your head of house, baffled by the news. Writing lines? That’s a first year punishment, the easiest detention ever.

You show up outside Riddle’s office at exactly the time you’re supposed to. Without punishment or curses from your bullies, it’s easy to be on time.

You knock on the door, nervousness drumming through you. Why had he taken your detention? What was his plan with this? Was it some sort of worse punishment?

You’d heard about the cutting quills from Professor Umbridge’s reign of terror. Would this be something similar?

The door swings open, startling you so badly you jump. Professor Riddle raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment on your action.

“Come in. I have everything set up.”

You slowly follow him in, your nerves building with every step. He’s supposed to be the strictest teacher. The hardest on his students and the one urging them the most to reach their ambitions.

You sit at the desk he’s provided you, looking over the paper and quill in front of you. They look… just like a normal quill and paper.

“They’re perfectly safe. I’ve used that quill before.” Riddle watches you from his desk, that same inscrutable expression on his face:

You startle. Then flush with embarrassment. “Sorry, sir. I’ve just had… bad experiences before.”

He nods. “Here.”

You watch in disbelief as he picks up his own quill and ink pot and brings them over to you. Then he takes yours and moves them over to his desk.

“Is that better?”

You just stare at him for a moment. Then your sense comes back to you and you nod. “Y-Yes, sir.”

“Please start with your lines. I’ve written the first one out for you. You will fill the front and back of the page.”

“Yes, sir.”

You lower your head and pick up the quill he’d given you. You don’t know what you did to receive such light detention, but you’re not complaining. It’s infinitely better than what you’d be doing otherwise.

You grimace at the thought and lower the tip of the quill to the page. With a deep breath, you start writing.

Over the next week, you start to warm to Professor Riddle. It takes two whole days to stop being so jumpy around him, and two more days before you slowly start to believe his words.

Mainly because he will not stop asking you about your bullies. About who they are. What they do. It would be annoying if it wasn’t so gratifying that someone finally seems to care.

You don’t really answer him, of course. You have enough self-preservation to know that much, but you do start to reveal smaller details.

Like how you’re always late to class because of them. Or how they bother you when you try to study. Or even how you’re afraid to eat meals outside of your dorm because of them.

Which is the reason you’re currently outside his office door again. You knock hesitantly, balancing your plate of food with one hand.

He opens the door and you walk in, sitting at the now familiar desk. You set down your plate and get comfortable.

“Thank you, sir,” you say quietly, picking up your fork.

“Of course.” Riddle nods and sits at his desk to eat his own lunch.

It’s strange; eating in peace for once. You don’t have to worry about slaps to the head or food being spilled on you or some new embarrassing secret being shared. You just eat your food.

It’s hard to admit, but Professor Riddle is starting to grow on you. He doesn’t make you talk; doesn’t force you to do things you don’t like. He just sits with that unreadable expression of his and lets you do the same.

You take your time eating your food, allowing yourself to savor the flavors. It’s a nice change of pace. One you could find yourself getting used to.

Once you’re done eating, you get up. “Thank you, sir.”

“Of course,” Professor Riddle says, glancing up from his own plate. “Enjoy the rest of your classes.”

“I will.” You give him a slight smile and leave his office.

Maybe things will actually be better after this.

You’re slammed against the wall. Hands grind your face against the stone, pinning you in place.

“You fucker!” It’s your bullies, clearly enraged. “You think you can tell on us and get away with it?!”

You panic, fear shooting through you.

“We almost got expelled because of you, you piece of shit!”

Your head is pulled back so you can see their angry faces.

“I didn’t say anything!“ you beg, starting to shake with panic and terror.

“Shut up! I swear to god, you dumb little—“

Your head is bashed against the wall. Your hearing cuts out, replaced by the loudest ringing you’ve ever heard. Your vision goes blurry. Something drips down your face, stinging your eyes.

Then, the hands are pulled off you. You’re vaguely aware of yelling as your legs give out and you crumple against the wall.

Your head throbs, pain shooting through your forehead as you lean your head against the wall. When you pull back to try and focus on it, red stains the stone.

Someone crouches down in front of you. A gentle hand tilts up your chin. You struggle to focus on the face, but your vision won’t cooperate.

The person says something, but you just blink. You can’t hear what they’re saying over the ringing in your ears.

Hands scoop you up, cradling you in strong arms. Nausea rises in your throat at the sudden motion.

The last thing you remember is throwing up.

You wake up in the Hospital Wing. You don’t remember much; just a bustling Madame Pomfrey and a warm, firm hand gently rubbing your back as you cry. The rest is a haze. It makes your head hurt to try and remember so you just give up.

After Madame Pomfrey pronounces you to be fine, you’re swept up to the Headmaster’s office. You sit nervously in a chair, fiddling with your fingers.

Headmaster Dumbledore’s normally kind expression has been replaced with a serious look.

“Hello,” he greets you solemnly. “I’m glad to hear you’re doing better.”

Something about the way he says it makes you doubt he means it. You say nothing in return.

Your Head of House bustles around behind you, muttering something under their breath. You look down at your hands and wish you were back in the Hospital Wing.

“Do you know why you’re here?” Dumbledore asks.

You shrug a little and don’t look up. “No.”

“We take bullying very seriously here at Hogwarts.”

You snort, then wince as your head aches from the action.

Dumbledore’s lips thin, and his look sharpens. “We understand you have been through some… issues with a few of our students.”

You bite your tongue to keep from saying anything rash.

“We’ve contacted your parents about the situation,” your Head of House adds. “But they haven’t replied yet.”

Your stomach churns. You’re well aware of that. Your parents have taken a hands off approach to your schooling since you started being bullied. You doubt they’ve even read the letter from the school.

“Unfortunately,” Dumbledore continues, “without the permission of a trusted adult, we cannot do much about the issue. The offending students will be given detention and strict warnings.”

“What?” Your eyes start to sting. “You’re just— You’re not going to do anything?”

Dumbledore raises his hands in a helpless gesture. “Without permission from a trusted adult—“

You can feel the tears building behind your eyes. “No! There has to be something you can do! I can’t— What if this happens again?!”

Dumbledore opens his mouth to say something when the door to his office flies open. Professor Riddle stands in the doorway, glaring at the Headmaster.

“A letter for you.” He says calmly. He approaches Dumbledore and hands him a letter. “I think you’ll find it contains everything you’ll require for the students’ expulsions.”

Dumbledore’s expression changes instantly. “Of course, Tom,” he says coolly, “I appreciate your care and concern for our students.”

Professor Riddle doesn’t even try to hide his sneer. “Someone has to do it.”

He gestures to you. “Come on.” It’s not a request. It’s an order.

You obey, getting to your feet and meekly following him out. As soon as you get down to the hallway, Professor Riddle turns to you.

“I’m sorry about that. You should be resting, not dealing with old fools.”

You blink up at him. “How did you…?”

“I owled your parents.”

He doesn’t elaborate and you decide you don’t want to know.

“Thank you, sir.”

He rests a hand on your shoulder and gives it a comforting rub. “Of course. Your bullies will be expelled by tomorrow morning, and you won’t ever have to deal with them again.”

Tears well up in your eyes. He truly means it. You won’t have to worry about getting to class, or about not studying, or anything like that again.

You throw your arms around him, hugging him tightly. “Oh, thank you, sir!”

He pats your back, lightly returning your hug. “You’re welcome. Now, go get some rest. I don’t want to see you out and about till morning.”

“Yes, sir!” You head off to your dorm, practically giddy with excitement.

You’re finally free from your bullies. You’ll be able to make friends again now. You can get good grades again. Live without fear for your wellbeing.

You don’t think you’ve ever been so happy in your life. And it’s all thanks to Professor Riddle.

[nepentheansea]

Pacify Her

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

𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ・𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝑷𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑼𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆

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

pairing: Professor Tom Riddle x Fem!Reader

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

wc: 4.2k

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

enjoy the playlist that I made for this story!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's when it all changed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[slytherinboysvip]

Controlling Tom Riddle

Honestly idk what to classify this as, but it’s kinda like idk.. deranged? maybe not but I have more like this up my sleeve if it does well (TW: manipulation, unspoken gaslighting, extremely controlling, idk what else to add)

You loved Tom. You truly, truly did. But he tended to take the term "I just want to lock you up" a little too seriously.

I mean, it wasn’t much at first, barely even noticeable in fact. Simple things such as suggesting what you should wear, insisting the more modest options were much more flattering on you; “It brings out your eyes, doll.”

He would remind you of your favorite foods, and when to and when not to eat them.. “Not now, it’s far too late for late night snacks. However, I have something I think might suffice for you.”

Overtime the helpful things became him controlling everything you wore, no shirts were allowed to be low enough cut for anyone to see down- tall people included. You wanted to comfortably wear your uniform? Absolutely not. It had to be perfect, and to show just how much of a “good girl” you are for him, you get cute bows in your hair every morning; special spell from him.

His behavior didn’t bother you, how could it? Yes you couldn’t wear certain things, but everything you got in return was amazing. Nobody understands him the way you do, they don’t know him like you do. That’s what you’re constantly telling your friends. “You don’t know him like I do. He’s romantic.”

Romance? It really is funny how blurry the lines get between romance and control, dress up per se? Once again with the dressing you- believe me, he spoils your beyond belief. Though, most of it is “My eyes only.” Slowly your closet went from things you’ve gotten from friends, shirts you once loved, to everything Tom approved.

It didn’t matter though, because he still spoils you.

Being in class was an entirely different story. In the beginning you simply couldn’t speak to any other guys, you understood, not wanting him interacting with girls either it seemed fair. Until you couldn’t sit with any of them, problem being, its not like you can just chose where you sit everytime. That doesn’t matter to Tom though, “You seemed to betray me today hun.” Nice name, yet the tone anything but.

It was pretty sudden when Tom just happened to to become your seating partner in every single class, and yes, that somehow included ones he once hadn’t attended. But this was a good thing. You got to be with your boyfriend all day long, that’s so exciting. Watching your every move, telling you what you did wrong on your work “Can’t have a dumb girl, can I doll?”

It was sweet. He was being helpful, you always had help. Just don’t ask for too much, then that makes you stupid, idiotic, dense. That’s according to him though, and yes his words. “Honestly, I don’t know what you’d do without me, you’re just so mindless most of the time. It’s infuriating”

But no matter what it’s always okay because, “You know I never mean what I say, Love. I’ll take you out, even buy you something new”

You see, none of this happened quickly. It was like one moment you controlled your life, the next moment you didn’t. You lived in his dorm, once again don’t ask how, Tom Riddle has his ways. He chose your outfits the days no uniforms were needed, but of course only because “I just love picking out what my girl wears, you love it too, don’t you, hm?”

Now here you are, unable to speak to anyone really, no boys, no friends because well, they only attract unwanted male attention of course. It was crazy to think you’d leave your friends behind for a boy, not just your friends really more like your entire old life, but Tom wasn’t just any boy. No, he had full control over you and you both knew it. You loved it.

I know im saying idk a lot but idk how i feel about this 😭😭

once again i hope you all enjoy <33

[your-nanas-house]

Really, the last time?

◇ Pairing: student!Tom Riddle X professor fem!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, dubcon, somnophilia at first, adult x adult, kissing, blowjob, Tom Riddle

◇ Summary: Miss Y/l/n finds herself pleasuring her student for the third time.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Part 3 of The Beginning. Here the part 2, Part 4

The cool night air continued to blow in through the open window of Miss Y/l/n's bedroom, the sky was cloudy and a drizzle was threatening to come in but the difference in temperature that the teacher felt on her skin was pleasant and calming— calming enough to put her into a deep but peaceful sleep.

Her smooth, feminine body laid on the soft mattress, a blanket lightly over her exposed thighs and in her arms while the rest was loosely covered by her lace nightgown and her noticable tiny underwear— which obviously matched her clothes.

It was probably part of a set. A set that Tom Riddle really liked, especially on his DADA professor.

Her chest continued to rise and fall, her breaths as calm as the atmosphere in that room— despite the intrusive presence of one of her students, who was standing in the darkness right next to the still magically lit fire of the stove.

His gaze was intense and dark, almost as calculating as his long, silent steps— Tom Riddle knew what to do and why he was there, he knew the inappropriateness of his actions but he didn't care at all.

The young adult craved his teacher's body, he had reached an almost physical need to receive her attention and feel her body against his.

Reason because he was there, standing over her limp body, his gaze studying everything she was unconsciously gifting him during that dark british night.

Tom stared for a few minutes before reacting, using his wand to slowly move Miss Y/l/n's sleeping body, removing the blanket with his pale long fingers as he slowly climbed onto the bed to get closer.

His breath got heavier when his hands started to stroke her smooth legs, starting from her ankles— he crawled between them slowly while his touch became more intense.

His fingertips slowly traced the length of her exposed legs as he brushed his nose against her warm skin, stopping a couple of seconds more against her inner thighs as soon as Miss Y/l/n moved slightly in her sleep.

After making sure that she wasn't waking up he continued his journey, pressing his nose against her clothed cunt to take a long sniff of her sex, earning a soft whine from her when his nose brushed against her clit— he wanted more, he really wanted to explore that part of her, feel that warm and wet feeling that his fellow Slytherins kept describing.

Not that night though, he was there for other reasons and he was going to fulfill his own needs before going back to his own room.

Tom moved further, opening slowly her nightgown, starting from the last button, exposing that way her lower tummy and slowly her round swollen breasts.

His gaze darkened as soon as he laid his eyes back on her tits, he studied their movements and how her nipples became hard in a couple of seconds because of the cold soft wind that hit them.

It was tempting and very arousing for the young man, he was already trying to keep his hips from grinding against her stomach— intrusive thoughts kept telling him to wrap his lips around one of them and suck at if like there wasn't a tomorrow.

So he did, he leaned down with his rosy lips slightly apart, stopping just when her right nipple was inside of them— he wrapped his lips around it, after licking them slowly and starts to suck almost like an infant. His hands went carefully to his pants and worked quickly on his buttons to free his painful hard cock, before using a spell to lubricate his left hand and started to tease himself without stopping to suck.

Miss Y/l/n kept letting out soft noises of pleasure, arching her back more into him before finally waking up, her hand in Tom's hair to press his face more against her right breast— her breath was quick and her face flushed, she should have pushed her own student away from her vulnerable body but she didn't.

She arched her back more, moaning his name softly, waiting till he moved to her other nipple as well to push him away from her chest; Tom didn't understand at first, he thought that she was trying to make him leave or just protest since his action where really unprofessional.

That didn't happened, Miss Y/l/n just bit her bottom lip as she pushed her breasts together, looking at him in an inviting way, letting him know that he could move closer so that she could adjust Tom's position and make his cock slip between her round boobs.

The sensation was new but still welcomed, Tom replaced her hands with his, holding and squeezing her chest together as he pleased while he moved his hips in a quick pace, fucking her breasts roughly— her tongue kept licking his tip every time she could reach it, tasting his precum, and her hands went in her lacy underwear to play with herself while her star student used her for his own pleasure.

It was messy and Tom's first time, his movements where sloppy but precise, his grip was tight and rough while his breath became heavier as the time passed.

His climax approached in a fast way when Miss Y/l/n placed her free hand at the base of his cock, lowering it just to play with his heavy, full balls— her mouth now wrapped around his tip, sucking it and accepting all his load as soon as the peak hit Tom like a train.

She came too, just by playing with her wet pussy and suck his cock dry, before letting go of him, allowing Tom to slowly lower his body breathless.

His body limp and exausted against hers, his forehead now resting on hers like his soft cock rested against her lower abdomen— their lips brushed against each other and he almost dive for a sloppy french kiss before disappearing in the dark and leave her alone in her room.

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj , @wife-of-magic-monkeys , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher , @sleepycreativewriter

[agirlwhoisaphantom]

a little death - tom riddle x reader

summary: There is a new Defensive of Darrk Arts professor and something about you has captivated his attention

word count: 1635

warnings: age gap (all characters are 18+), taboo romance, teacher-student relationship, tension?, obsessive traits, Somewhat of a cliffhanger

author's note: Hello, it's been a while since I wrote anything, so bare with me. This has been a one shot that has been lingering in my brain and I'm excited for it to finally be out. Can we talk about how beautiful Tom Hughes is???? Italian Translation: Falena - Moth

Pansy caught up to you as you walked down the hallway, holding your books close to your chest. “Have you seen the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor?” There was an eager tone in her voice, as if she was excited to share the news with you.

Looking over at her, you weren’t too excited, nor did you care about the professor, it was just another class to have to pass. You shook your head as you rolled your eyes. “I have not, nor do I care if there is a new professor.”

She smirked as she looked over at you, playfully bumping into you, which made you hold your books tighter. “You’ll change your mind once you see him.”

Walking into the classroom, you look around, trying to find the professor, but he is nowhere to be seen. Great impression for your first day, huh? You make your way to your seat, place your books on the desk, and take a seat, bringing your backpack onto your lap. You take out a notebook and a pen and set them down on the desk before putting your books away in your bag.

“Hello, class. My name is Professor Riddle, and I will be your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.” He said in a deep, honeyed tone as he walked towards the front of the class.

You place your attention towards him, noticing all of his features. His black hair fell in short curls, his face was beautifully structured as if it were a statue, and his strong features fell into perfect places. His eyes were ever so calculating in a marine blue as they looked around the room.

His gaze ends up on you, with curiosity evident as he crosses his arms and tilts his head. Tom looked at you as if he was trying to figure you out, and somehow, something about you piqued his interest.

Though he quickly started teaching the class, he continued to steal glances at you throughout the entire hour, his gaze often lingering on you.

You weren’t stressed about your potion exam the next day, but you still wanted to be prepared if something unexpected happened.

As you review your notes on the latest potions being tested, your thoughts drift away. Suddenly, you find yourself daydreaming about Tom. You knew having these thoughts about him was wrong, but you couldn't help but notice how beautiful he was. His deep blue eyes and chiseled jawline left you breathless.

Trying to push these thoughts away, your mind kept reverting to how he said your name. It sounded like he was reading from a poetry book, with a hint of admiration and warmth in his voice.

Standing up from your desk, you feel the need to take a break and clear your mind. You make your way to the door of your dorm and start to head outside. The cool breeze hits your face, and you take a deep breath.

Walking towards the courtyard, you noticed someone sitting on one of the benches reading a book. You were intrigued by how they delicately put down the book as they pulled a cigarette box out of their pockets and put it in their mouth.

You couldn’t tell the features of this person, and you wondered if they were new or someone you had never seen before. As you walked towards them, his features became more apparent, and you noticed it was Tom.

Fuck

Out of all the people to approach, you are approaching the one person you have been trying to avoid having inappropriate thoughts about.

“Good evening, Miss.” he looks up at you, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and placing it between his index finger and middle finger as he notices you approaching him. “Did you need something?”

You shook your head as you held your hands together. “No, just wondering who was out here at these hours. I should get going- “

“I noticed you were struggling in today's class. I can tutor you so you can understand the material better,” he interrupted. He stood up and immediately towered over you. Looking up at him, you hadn’t noticed his height until he stood so close to you.

Him telling you that you were struggling made you upset. Why was he noticing that? Why didn’t he tell me he noticed that during class? All these thoughts were going through your mind as you furrowed your brows and gave him a crooked smile. “I wasn’t struggling,” you scoffed. "Don’t make assumptions about me if you don’t know me. Have a good evening,” you snapped at him as you began to walk away, crossing your arms together.

He started to follow you as he forcefully grabbed your arm, pulling you back and turning you to face him. “Don’t ever speak to me like that ever again.” That soft, honeyed tone disappeared as his voice turned harsh. His eyes narrowed as he tried to intimidate you, but you looked at him with a poker face.

You moved your arm away from his grasp. “What will you do? Fail me?”

“Precisely that,” he says, placing his hands in his coat pockets. A sinister smirk appears on his face.

Your eyes burned with frustration and anger as you stared at him silently. This wasn't how you envisioned your first out-of-class interaction with him. You had hoped for a more cordial and friendly exchange, but instead, you found yourself clenching your fists and biting your tongue.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you broke the silence and asked, "May I go now?" Your voice was cold and clipped, betraying the anger and disappointment that you felt.

He stepped closer to you, closing the gap between the two of you as he placed his middle finger underneath your chin with his index finger and thumb, tilting your head up, making you look at him as he smirked “You look so delicious when you are angry, Falena.”

“Fuck off, Riddle,” he harshly lets go of your face as he chuckles.

He starts to walk away from you and stops for a second. “I’ll see you around, Falena.”

----

Over the course of the following weeks, you found yourself struggling in class. It seemed like Tom had it out for you, as he was particularly harsh towards you. He gave you assignments that were much more challenging, and he even tested you on spelling that most students had never even heard of before.

There were days when you would lay in bed, feeling thoroughly discouraged and wanting to skip class altogether. But you knew that if you did that, you would be giving him the satisfaction of winning whatever little game he had placed between you.

You had to recollect yourself before knocking on his office door. Taking a deep breath, you knocked on it. Surprised, he answered quickly, “I was expecting you.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you into the office, closing the door.

“I’m not staying long.” You rapidly moved your hand away from his as you crossed your arms together. “What the fuck is your problem? What are you trying to prove with all of the shit that you’ve been doing?” You sounded agitated as you stepped back as you wanted to keep your distance between you and him.

“You are my problem,” he snapped as he closed the gap between you two. “I don’t know what it is from the moment I saw you. You are all I think about. You have invaded every single sense of mine. Whatever you are doing, make it stop.” He looked desperate, wanting answers you could not give him.

Your eyes widen as you shake your head, looking at him confused. “That doesn’t mean you get to make my life a living hell.”

“You already make mine feel that way.”

You felt confused and angry. You wanted to open that door and run back to your dorm, close the door, and never get out. Instead, you stood there breathing the same air as the person who has made it difficult to be around.

He takes a deep breath as he places his hand on your cheek. His gaze softens as his thumb grazes over your cheek. “I shouldn’t be feeling this way towards you. But I can’t help it. You are just so perfect.” That honeyed, deep voice comes back, and geez, how addicting it is listening to it.

You placed your hand on top of his as you leaned into his cold touch. Closing your eyes, you realize something that made you pull his hand away from your face.

“We shouldn’t be doing, Tom,” you whispered as you looked up at him, biting your lip. You take a couple of steps back as you place your hand on the doorknob. You wanted him to stop you from leaving, so why was he standing there staring at you as if he was starved from a touch that he has been craving.

He reaches out for you but stops as he flexes his hand on the side of his leg. “Whether you like it or not, falena, you belong to me.”

“I belong to no one. Goodnight, Tom.” You turn around as you open the door, leaving his office before he can respond.

Walking back to your dorm, you could still feel his hand on your face, as if it were tattooed on your skin.

What did I get myself into? A sigh escapes your lips as you lay down on your bed, staring at the ceiling.

[moonyeyedstar]

Teacher's Pet- Professor Tom Riddle x Reader Smut

*18+*

“You are telling me that not a single one of you knows the answer to the question on the board?!” your professor shouts turning to face the class, his grip on the chalk in his hand was so tight it should’ve snapped it.  Every single one of your classmates bowed their heads.  You knew the answer to the question but everyone had been talking about how you are the teacher’s pet so you did not want to raise your hand.  Professor Riddle was always quite harsh with how he handled his students and unforgiving but for some reason, there was something about you that softened him up.  He had never raised his voice toward you and when he gave the class detention he never wrote you up.  You’d be lying if you said you haven’t grown to fancy him.  He was so devilishly handsome, the way his eyebrows furrowed when he was focused, a body so toned you could tell even under his suit, he was always dressed so properly, and his hands, oh my god his hands, his fingers were so long and slender and pale and his veins stuck out.  He wore silver rings that would’ve been gaudy on any other man but not on him, he looked so sophisticated.  You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, but you should have, you should have bowed your head like every other one of your classmates, it probably could have prevented him calling on you.

“Miss. Y/l/n?” Professor Riddle’s voice echoed throughout the classroom.  “You surely know the answer don’t you?” he asks, walking over to your desk.  Your stomach did flips whenever he said your name.  Your brain felt fuzzy as he approached you, and you caught yourself practically drooling over him. 

“Ye-” you stop yourself, “N-No Sir,” you stutter, letting your eyes linger a bit too long

before dropping your eyesight to your textbook in front of you. 

“No?” he cocks an eyebrow whilst staring you down causing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin.  All you could do was shake your head no, keeping your eyes glued to your textbook, and try your best to distract yourself from the growing wetness between your legs.  He looked back up at the class but a small smirk was playing on the corner of his lips, “You are all excused early, do not forget your essays are due at the end of the week, mediocrity will not be tolerated, meet the guidelines or fail, it is up to you,” he said roughly to the class.  Everyone nodded and you all began to gather your things.  As you went to close your textbook Professor Riddle slammed his hand down forcing it open, “Not you, Y/n.  I’d like to have a little chat with you after everyone leaves,” he said lowly.  There was a devilish glimmer in his eye, that made your heart skip a beat.

“Y-Yes Sir,” you nodded keeping your textbook open and squeezing your thighs together to help appease the throbbing need between your legs.  The class quickly emptied and your professor looked down on you.  “Why didn’t you answer the question?” he asked firmly.  

“I am so sorry Sir,” you said shakily, “I will do better next time, I promise,” you looked up at him, your eyes were a bit watery from your nerves.  

“You and I both know you knew the answer, you are at the top of your class and it was a simple question, the issue is you are surrounded by idiots.  There is no need for you to lower yourself to their level.”

“No Sir,” you sigh because he does not understand, “They all say things about me, that I am a teacher’s pet, a suck-up,” you mumble, “I just did not want to make it worse, so I lied,” you nervously played with your hands.  Much to your surprise, he let out a low chuckle, shifting your attention to look up at him.  He had a small grin on his face, god he was so sexy.

“They say those things because they are jealous that you are so incredibly brilliant,” he said genuinely.  The heat between your legs grew to be almost unbearable and

 your cheeks flushed.                                    

“Professor-” you start but he cuts you off.

“-And if I say you’re brilliant it means something,”

“Thank you, Sir,” your skin was hot and your panties were soaked.  You tense up as he unexpectedly brings the back of his hand to caress your cheek.  His hand was cold but his rings were colder, they almost stung against your burning skin.

“Why so flushed, darling?” he asks quietly, a sense of cockiness in his tone.  He knew the effect he had on you and was relishing in the fact he got you so worked up.  

“It is because of you Sir,” you admit, blushing.  You did not know where this newfound confidence came from, maybe it was the built-up need for him, the way you yearned to be touched by him, whatever it was you were going to chase it.  He chuckled again, his chuckles were almost a growl, they made your cunt drip.

“Because of me?” he teases. 

“Yes Sir, because of you, I need you, I can hardly focus in class, the whole time I am thinking of the most utterly sinful things we could be doing to each other.”  Your words seemed to have an effect on him as you watched his pants grow tight around his bulge.  You could not help but smirk to yourself a bit. 

“God,” he growls lowly, “You have no idea how badly I yearn to do those utterly sinful things you think of to you, I cannot keep my eyes off of you in class, not only are you the most beautiful girl I have ever laid my eyes upon, you also have a mind so extraordinary that it turns me on even more, I cannot even imagine all the brilliant things you will do but right now I think we both owe each other this moment, I have never met someone who made me almost intimidated by their intellect, I need you, Y/n, so will you let me have you?”  

“God yes,” you practically moaned. 

 A smirk grew on his face, “Have you done this before?” he asked as he ran a hand through his hair.      

“Yes Sir, I have done things before,” you said quietly, your heart pounding in your chest.

“What things?  Have you ever had sex or just sucked cock?” he stares at you intently, his eyes full of lust.

“Just sex,” you blush hard under his stare.  Your confession only seemed to intrigue him more.

“Oh my darling so you’ve never sucked a cock before?” he teases and you shake your head no.  “Well, it seems to me that I have so much to teach you,” his smirk consumed his face.  You nodded in agreement.

“Yes Sir, please, teach me.”  You were practically begging.  By this point, your clit was throbbing and you were so nervous but so excited to suck off your professor.  He walked over to his desk and sat in his chair before waving you over.  You rushed over quickly, your heart pounding in your chest, and stood before him.

“On your knees darling,” he chuckled condescendingly.  You dropped to your knees in an instant before looking up at him awaiting your next instruction.  “You listen so well, you’re already being such a good girl for me,” he teases as he undoes his belt, the button, and the zipper on his trousers and pulls himself out of his boxers.  His cock was huge and you could not fathom fitting all of him in your mouth.  His member bobbed in front of your face, his tip was red and swollen and slick with precum.  You were so caught up in staring that it wasn’t even until you heard a small chuckle escape his lips that you realized you had been staring.  You shook your head and looked back up at his eyes to find him grinning, so obviously amused.  “Like what you see, sweetheart?” he taunts. 

“Yes Sir,” you nodded, your nerves on fire.

“Good,” he smirks, “Touch me, darling, don’t be scared,” he waves his hand, gesturing for you to grab him.  You reach out, your hand is shakey and clammy from your nerves, and you notice a sweat begin to come on, just waiting to break across your forehead.  You grab him before looking up at him.  “Now stroke me, darling,” he nods at you to begin and you start to stroke him, moving slowly because there is nothing to lube him with.  “Spit on it, love, it’ll help,” he instructs.  Your clit begins to burn from the arousal of the moment and the way he speaks to you.  You lean over and spit on his cock.  You rub it over his already slick tip and watch as his cock twitches from your touch.  You begin pumping him and look up at him as you do.

“How is this, Sir?” 

“Good but now give me a few more pumps before taking my tip, just my tip into your mouth.”

“Yes Sir,” you nod, your heart racing as you pump him a few more times before leaning over as instructed and taking just his tip in your mouth.  You let your tongue flick over the slit on his tip taking in the bitter, salty taste of his precum as you continue to pump his shaft, you loved having his taste coat your tongue.  You feel his hips shudder under you as his tip throbs against your tongue.  The way his body reacts makes you eager to take more of him into your mouth.  You slowly slide your head down fitting about half of his length in your mouth but stop before you let him hit the back of your throat so you do not gag on him.  Your greediness earns you a couple of low moans and groans from your professor.  His moans only made your desire for him grow.  Your cunt was dripping for him.  

“Fuck,” he growls, “Good girl, just like that, relax your jaw and breathe and take me down your throat,” he instructs, his hand going to grab a fistful of your hair as he lets his head fall back and his mouth stayed cracked open.  You whimpered around him and took a deep breath in through your nose as you relaxed your jaw and took your professor down your throat.  You tense up but quickly remind yourself to keep breathing and swallow around him as you bob your head on his length.  His grip on your hair tightens as you continue to bob your head.  You drool all over him as you move on him sloppily as he jerks his hips up towards you, his cock twitching more and more often inside your mouth.  You hollowed out your cheeks around him loving the feeling of having him inside your mouth.  You were almost getting yourself off just by thinking about him cumming inside your mouth.  “Look at you, taking me so well already, such a quick learner,” he grunts looking down at you, loosening his grip on the back of your head to brush hair out of your face.  “Why don’t you get on my desk and let me fuck you as a reward for being such a good girl for me?”  You whimpered around him and pulled off with a pop.  Your lips were slick and swollen and you had saliva running down your chin.  He could not take his eyes off of you, “God,” he growled, “You look so perfect.”  You felt almost intoxicated but his words made your skin hot.

“Thank you, Sir,” you whispered as you wiped your drool off your chin, licking your lips one more time as you propped yourself on his desk to take in every last bit of his taste.  He watched as you sat on his desk, he was practically undressing you with his eyes.  He got up from his desk chair and gripped your thighs, pushing them open swiftly making your skirt roll up before leaning down to kiss under your ear.  He nipped at your earlobe as he pressed himself against your soaked panties before letting his hot breath hit the inside of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.  He was so dark yet gentle.    

“Now Y/n, let me show you how a real man fucks,” he growled into your ear as he slide his hand up your inner thigh and hooked his finger through your panties holding them to the side as he splits you open with his tip and buries himself deep inside you in an instant.  

“Oh fuck, Professor,” you couldn’t help but cry out.  Your hips bucked and shifted to adjust yourself to his length.  You had never had a cock so big inside you before.  Your walls were fluttering around his throbbing cock, you were already basking in the feeling of pleasure and pain from having him stretch you out.

“Fuck you’re so tight,” he groaned into the crook of your neck, sending goosebumps all over your skin as he began to pick up his pace.  You took in a sharp breath and let your muscles relax allowing him to fix more of him inside you.  “God you take me so well,” he moaned out and began leaving kisses on your neck, gentle at first but they quickly became rough.�� You made him feral, you had him aching with an animalistic desire for you.  He began to suck on the skin of your neck taking it into your mouth as his tongue rolled over it, leaving a throbbing hickey.  You whimper under his touch and choke back moans.  He continued to leave hickeys all over your neck and collarbones as his thrusts became frantic and desperate.  His cock massaged your walls and your hips writhed with his to meet him every time he buried his cock as deep inside.  

“Oh fuck Professor, you feel so good,” you moaned.  You felt him smirk against the skin of your neck before bringing himself to look deep into your eyes as he gripped your neck, his cold hands made you shudder.  You locked eyes with him and found yourself becoming a moaning mess right in front of him, you felt so vulnerable, so exposed but you were loving every second of it.  You feel your pussy clench around him and you could feel yourself approaching your climax.  

“Jesus fuck,” he howled, “I swear to fucking god your pussy will be the death of me.”  He let his grip on your neck loosen before sliding his hands under your ass, lifting you a bit, pulling your hips to be as flush against his as possible.  He was loving every second of being buried in your tight, hot, dripping cunt.  You let your legs spread wider as he began to pound himself into you.  You felt a familiar knot grow in the pit of your stomach and moved your hands to grip his shoulder as you felt yourself become weak under him.  

“Oh, Professor!  Please I am so close,” you moaned through a shattered breath.

“Already my love?” he teases, “I was just getting started,” he smirks before pulling himself out of you.  You whined at the emptiness in your cunt, the knot in your stomach was slowly fading away.  You were on the verge of tears.  He noticed the way your eyes glossed over with tears and chuckled, “Now now,” he teased, “Do not worry my darling, I’m going to have you cumming all over my cock soon enough,” he smirked and pulled you off his desk before turning your around and bending you over his desk.  There was no time for you to process what was going on before you knew it he was driving his cock in and out of you again.  

“Oh fuck yes!” you gripped the edge of the desk in front of you, your knuckles turning white.  You were in complete and utter bliss to have him fill you up again.  His thrusts were rough, his hips were slamming against your ass.  Tears of pleasure began to roll down your cheeks as your gut began to tighten.  You were so fucking close.  “Fuck! Right there, do not stop!” you moan out and are on the verge of coming undone.  

“Oh darling, keep moaning for me like that and I might just cum in this pretty little cunt of yours,” he moaned.

“God yes!” you cried out, your walls clenching around him, “Please cum inside me Professor I want you to fill me up,” you were so needy.  

“Fuck,” he growled, your words were sending him over the edge.  His grip on your hips was so tight he was digging into you.  He gave you his last powerful thrust before spilling himself into you.  You felt his cum fill you up sending you over the edge.  You became limp on his desk as you let the most sinful of sounds slip your lips.  Your walls were throbbing around him and you were seeing stars.  You were left panting as he pulled out of you and leaned over to push the hair off the back of your neck before pressing a gentle kiss on it.  “You did so well for me darling,” he said breaking the silence.

“T-Thank you, Sir,” you pant, still in a haze.  You listened as his footsteps walked away from where you two were and heard a drawer open.  After he gathered whatever it was he needed he came back.  You felt a towel on your inner thigh.  He was cleaning the both of you up.  Your heart did a flip as you did not expect this from him.  “Thank you, Sir,” you begin as you stand up, “but there is really no need,” you continued.

“Don’t be that way, I said I was going to take care of and I am, I am a man of my word,” he finished cleaning you both up.  You both fixed your clothing quickly.  You looked up at him nervously not knowing what to do next.  “I think you will find yourself truly pleased if you stay after class again tomorrow, Miss Y/l/n,” he smirked playfully, already ready to go again.

“Yes Sir, I’d love to,” your cheeks flushed as you turned to head to the door.         

[jmliebert]

more Tom. i demand.

gladly.

.·:*¨TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE AS YOUR PROFESSOR ¨*:·

the most charismatic dada professor of the last decade, is the talk of the school immediately 

his presence alone demands attention

young and utterly handsome but let that not fool you, his mind is sharp, his knowledge vast and he knows how to pass it in along to his students 

well-groomed, you will never catch him off guard, calm face, dark clothes and a book in his hand (always)

strangely deep and somehow sad eyes are the only sign of his tiredness, but who wouldn’t have that look after obtaining the wicked knowledge he has?

he notices every little detail and it seems impossible to fool him so no-one even tries 

he also notices those who are gifted, his eyes are especially on them you see

forming special meetings to his favourites and you are one of them

he treats his chosen ones differently, he want to know them better, infiltrate their minds

he's sending you birthday cards, in emerald-green envelope, his handwriting neat and his wishes sincere

on one of those special meetings, while talking, discussing ideas and sipping tea Professors Riddle gaze linger on one student longer than the others, and that student is you

he’s intrigued but conflicted of course keeping you at safe distance for now

during one of his classes you answer correctly to one of the trickiest question, he gives points to your house for this one

but for you the biggest reward was Professor Riddle little smile meant just for you and brows raised in surprise 

at that moment you felt like you could fly :)

during some other dada class your exchange of views with Professor Riddle was so fiery and full of unspoken things he had to step back as not to make other student question your relationship 

after that he starts ignoring you whenever he can, he’s well-mannered towards you as always but he doesn’t engage you in his classes, doesn’t give you extra attention during meetings with his pupils, doesn't give you extra passes to restricted section

and worst of all he doesn't respond to your little verbal provocation no longer

his eyes are longing however, you can feel it and it almost burns your skin

you feel miserable because of this sudden change in his behaviour

you miss your intellectual wars, you miss books that he was reccomeendign to you, and his fingers guiding yours as you were learning a new spell...

so one cold night you muster your courage and decide to confront him in private, sneak into his chambers, your little heart flutters like crazy

when he sees you he act surprised but he's truly not

“ I shouldn’t allow myself to get this close to you”, he says flatly

but he didn't mean it, you know he didn't so you kiss him hard and for one sweet second he's kissing you back but then he stops, and now looking deep into your eyes in doubt, as if searching for something...

"don't", he says, moving away from you

suddenly you feel like you made a fool out of yourself, you start to think that all this secret looks and gentle touches were all nothing but your twisted imagination, cries of your loneliness

what did i do wrong? you keep asking yourself

but in the morning you see an enchanted flower on your bedside table with a note attached to it

"i've been thinking about you all night" is says and even without a signature you know who sent it to you

and this is how your strange game begins

it is dangerous for both of you as he is your professor and you are his student

sometimes when you doubt it all and crying in his arms he's softly whispering words of comfort to you

when it doesn't work he says he will ruing your life if you'll tell somebody or leave him, his eyes empty while saying that

you know he's bad for you but you are by his side anyway, waiting for better in him also knowing deep-inside that you are nothing without him

always cherishing this little moments when he is kind to you, when he kiss you gently and cups your face with his fingers

devouring every praise, every "I want you" from his beautiful mouth

forgetting every "you're pathetic"

loving his hands on your inner tights

feather-like kisses on your face

quick make-out sessions in between lessons "quick, we don't have much time"

and then he fuck you hard on his desk, in his classroom and it feels both wrong and soooo good

his hand on your mouth as to keep you quiet, your soft whimpers die in his palm

you learn to live in secrecy, feeding yourself with stolen moments and yearning embraces in the middle of the darkest of nights

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

 you can find more of my works about tom ♡here♡

[cupidddd-d]

you've got my devotion, but man i can hate you sometimes

in which you just want him to love you

"you imbecile!" tom snapped, glaring at you with red eyes filled with fury. "why did you talk to dumbledore? i could have gotten caught!"

you flinched, taking a step back as tom continued advancing towards you. "i-i-"

"you- you what?" he mocked your nervous stuttering with a cruel sneer.

gone was the charming boy that you fell in love with. he was replaced with a cruel, heartless man that would take advantage of anything at his disposal. and that included you.

"e-everyone had to go in for interviews to see what was c-causing the murders," you said weakly, hiding your trembling hands in your robes.

"you almost gave me away!" tom was livid, and despite all the years of being by his side, you knew he would still kill you in a heartbeat.

"no, tom! i'm sorry! h-he didn't suspect you at all, i swear!" you pleaded, hot tears springing to your eyes at his disappointment. "i-i'm really sorry, okay? i-i'll do better next time! j-just don't...!" don't throw me away. don't discard me. don't abandon me. don't hate me. don't leave me alone. don't make me live in a world without you.

how disappointed your mother would be at this pitiful sight. you were all but begging for a man to love you, despite the fact that he was incapable of doing so. even after she taught you to hold your head high, not to surrender your pride for anyone, you were still holding on to the pathetic hope that one day, just one day, a miracle might happen.

"i can't even stand to look at you right now." he scoffed, turning away from you.

you sniffled, recognizing the clear dismissal. "i hate you, you know that? i really....hate you." you glared at his back, tears dripping down your cheeks as you silently begged for him to turn back and comfort you, to apologize for his harsh words. but he wouldn't do that. you knew he wouldn't.

"no, you don't. if you did, you wouldn't be at my beck and call like a pathetic dog waiting for its master." tom said coldly, unfazed by your behavior. "if you hate me so much, leave. go on, then."

your lip wobbled, your fists clenching at your sides as you stayed rooted in place. you both stayed silent, knowing that you would never have the heart to leave him despite his treatment towards you. "you're being cruel, tom." you whispered.

"you knew what i was, and yet you chose to stay by my side anyway. you may leave whenever you want. you are not of any particular importance to me, so i won't stop you." he finally turned back as you'd hoped, but he didn't offer any soothing consolations. he smiled condescendingly at you, patting your shoulder as he passed you. "goodbye, then. i'll see you tomorrow."

and he was right. he would see you tomorrow. how could you leave him, the man you loved so pathetically and dutifully?

[atzgo]

A Race Against Darkness: The Curse of the Dark Mark

summary: In a thrilling race against time, Professor Tom Riddle and Nadia Potter face a dire challenge when a cursed dark mark mysteriously appears on Nadia's skin. The mark, pulsing with dark magic, threatens to consume her entirely. As the curse's influence grows stronger, Nadia's energy starts to fade away.

Content Warnings: a whole lot of angst, blood, dark magic and curses, vomiting, mentions of torture, physical contact between professor and student (no smut)

Word Count: 8.1 k

A/N: I tagged this fic as x reader however the female character does have a mentioned name "Nadia Potter", the name only pops up once maybe twice but that's it, her brother Harry is thrown in there but never mentioned by name only referred to as "her brother" twice, physical description of Nadia is never described.

This is also my first ever fic so!!!

P.s I got inspiration for the first two paragraphs from @ holybonez on c.ai from her Prof tom riddle bot so giving credit where credit is due, I did reword it and the rest of the story is my own, just those two starting paragraphs that gave inspiration to me to write this! <3

all characters are 18+ !!!

In the quiet and secluded classroom of Professor Tom Riddle, you find yourself studying without permission, taking a risk for the sake of uninterrupted focus.

Not long ago, you noticed the dark mark on your arm, though you had no recollection of how it got there. The mark’s presence has been a constant source of unease and curiosity. As you gently roll up your sleeve to examine it more closely, tracing the intricate design with your fingers, the door creaks open. Jumping slightly, you hastily roll down the sleeve of your robes. Tom Riddle unexpectedly enters the room, his eyes immediately locking onto you, a questioning gaze on his face as he takes notice of your panicked state.

"Nadia Potter. Why are you in my classroom?" He walked over and rested against his desk with a purposeful stride. "You know it's against school rules for students to be in an empty classroom without a teacher present," he stated calmly, his gaze fixed firmly on you. "I'm aware... It won't happen again," you whispered, preparing yourself for whatever consequences might come. His eyes moved over your appearance, examining everything from your shoes to your hair, as if carefully analyzing every detail. After a long silence that reverberated in the room, he spoke once more.

“Roll up your sleeves” his voice strong and resolute. A surge of panic washed over you as you locked eyes with him. "W-why are you asking me to do that?" you stuttered, unable to hide your anxiety. A smirk formed on his lips as he moved away from the desk and closed in on you. Standing just a few inches away, he lowered his voice. "Did I not make myself clear?"

You stood motionless, your mind racing. It seemed impossible to escape with the door so far away and his presence so close. Before you could react, Professor Riddle firmly took hold of your wrist and slowly rolled up your sleeve. His smirk remained as he spoke again. "Now the other sleeve."

Your mind was filled with fear and confusion, and tears started to form in your eyes. "No, you can't do that! You have no right!" you objected, but he disregarded your tears and swiftly rolled up the other sleeve to reveal your forearm. His eyes slightly widened at the sight of the mark etched on your skin. "And why can't I?" he asked, firmly holding your chin and pulling you closer to him.

"Professors are not allowed to touch students," you replied, with a wavering defiance in your voice. His grip tightened as he locked eyes with you, as if searching for something in your expression. A tear slipped down your cheek as you tasted the salty reminder of your vulnerability on your lips.     

Filled with fear and confusion, your mind was overwhelmed, and tears welled up in your eyes. "No, you don't have the right to do that!" you protested, but he ignored your tears and quickly rolled up the other sleeve, revealing your forearm. Upon seeing the mark etched on your skin, his eyes widened slightly. "And why can't I?" he inquired, firmly grasping your chin and drawing you closer to him.

"Professors are prohibited from touching students," you asserted. His grip intensified as he locked eyes with you, almost as if he was searching for something in your expression. A tear trickled down your cheek, a salty taste entering your mouth.

He noticed the tear gliding down your cheek and quickly wiped it away with his thumb before looking into your eyes once more. "Why are you crying?" he asked, his cool tone from before being replaced by a softer one.

You were surprised by his sudden kindness as you said, "How do I get rid of it... the mark? You're a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher; you must know..."

Your voice shook with desperation as Professor Riddle's expression softened even more. He gently released his grip on your chin, understanding the depth of your fear.

"The Dark Mark is permanent once it's given. I assume you didn't receive it willingly...?" he asked with empathy.

“I found it when I woke up this morning, I can’t live with this”. Tears were flowing down my face as I spoke.

Professor Riddle understood your anguish. He softened his grip on your wrist and ran his fingers along the mark. "Has it been causing you pain?" he asked gently.

"It's been constant... Spells haven't helped, and I can't risk going to the hospital wing at Hogwarts, I could get expelled, they’d never give me a chance to explain if they caught a glimpse of it," you admitted, anxiety palpable in your voice. He continued to hold your arm, his touch comforting, as his fingers carefully traced the mark.

Releasing your wrist gently, he took hold of your chin, encouraging you to look at him.

"If I had to make a guess, the Dark Lord is the one who put it on you," he asserted with determination, his tone firm yet gentle.

"How? I've been at Hogwarts all this time, even during breaks. I thought I was safe here," you said, tears streaming down your face as you were engulfed by confusion.

Professor Riddle's expression softened even more as he pulled you closer, with his hand still grasping your chin.

"The Dark Lord's ways are unknown. If he wanted to mark you, he would find a way. Rest assured, as long as you're at Hogwarts, you are out of his reach..."

"If others find out... I could be expelled! Sirius won't take me back, my friends will abandon me, my brother will never speak to me again! There has to be a way to remove it," you begged, fear taking hold of you.

He held you tightly, feeling an unexpected tightening in his chest. Setting aside distracting thoughts, he concentrated on the current situation. "I will make sure no one discovers this. I’ll find a solution... I promise you," he reassured, sensing your anxiety diminish.

Your breaths became steady at his words, his reassuring presence bringing comfort. Pulling you closer, he continued to reassure you, his arm snaking around your waist, thumb gently rubbing circles into your skin.

"Are you feeling better?" he inquired gently, his concern evident in the tone of his voice. You gave a slight nod, feeling the tears subsiding as relief swept over you. "And the pain... none of the spells or potions that should work haven’t," you confessed, seeking his advice.

Professor Riddle carefully examined the mark before returning his gaze to yours.

"This mark is different from any I've encountered before. I will research potential treatments for the pain. It might take time, but I am determined to find a solution," he reassured you.

"Thank you, Professor. Your dedication means a lot," you responded softly, a hesitant smile appearing on your face.

"You seem tired. I can tell you're distressed, no doubt since finding the mark this morning," he said gently. You tiredly nodded, realizing how much the day had taken out of you. "I think I should go back to my dorm," you said, feeling comforted by his presence.

Professor Riddle agreed, moving away from you and heading towards his desk. "Get some rest. I will start researching the mark tonight," he promised, looking at you with newfound warmth.

Appreciative of his unexpected kindness and determination to help, you turned to leave, feeling reassured by his presence in the midst of uncertainty.

Throughout the night, Tom worked tirelessly to find a way to remove the dark mark, but unfortunately, he wasn't able to make any progress. Despite feeling exhausted from the sleepless night, he remained determined to find a solution. The next morning, Tom arrived at the classroom early, looking noticeably pale, but he didn't acknowledge any concerns about his appearance. Seated at his desk, he carefully reviewed the notes from his research, hoping for a breakthrough. When the bell announced the start of the day, he glanced up expectantly, anticipating your entrance.

Quietly, you entered the room, making sure nobody spotted you before softly shutting the door. Signs of fatigue were evident on your face, a reflection of a sleepless night. Tom observed as you settled in, offering a gentle greeting.

“Good morning.”

Noticing your weary appearance, he couldn't ignore the worry creeping over him. Pushing these emotions aside, he focused on the immediate moment.

“You didn’t manage to get any sleep last night, did you?”

"No," you confessed, your voice weighed down by exhaustion. "The pain gets worse every day. I can't sleep, and I've lost my appetite."

Your words filled Tom with worry, as he empathized with your difficult situation.

"Are you not eating at all...?" he asked softly, leaning in to closely inspect your tired face.

"No," you whispered almost inaudibly, eyes cast downward.

The pain in Tom's chest grew stronger. It hurt him to see you in this state, neglecting your basic needs. He reached out, gently touching the side of your face, his touch a blend of reassurance and worry.

"You need to have something to eat...," he said.

"I can't," you replied, your distress evident. "Whenever I try, I feel nauseous."

Tom felt his heart constrict even more. Your reluctance to eat was seriously affecting your health. His eyes locked on you with a blend of concern and resolve.

"Tell me, when was the last time you had a meal?" he asked gently.

"It's been two days," you confessed softly, a realization dawning on your face.

Tom's heart dropped at this admission. Two days without proper nourishment—how were you coping? He tapped underneath your chin, encouraging you to look into his eyes.

"You really should eat something. You'll waste away if you don't..."

You expressed your fears: "I don't know what to do. There are consequences whether I eat or not," with a sense of resignation and tears forming in your eyes. Tom felt a pang of helplessness, unable to bear seeing you suffer.

Despite his usual detachment, he found himself caring deeply for you. “There has to be something I can do…” he muttered to himself, feeling more determined than ever to find a solution.

Gently cupping your chin, he urged you to look at him. “Please… just eat something…” "I know what will happen, and frankly, I’d rather starve," you insisted, maintaining defiant eye contact.

Tom felt a pang in his heart at your insistence. He couldn't understand why he was so concerned, but he couldn't bear to see you suffering.

"Could you please have at least a small snack," he asked in a softer tone.

You hesitated for a moment, weighing in your options "Alright," you conceded, a faint smile appearing on your face. "But if I feel unwell, I'll blame you."

Tom felt a wave of relief as you agreed. Any form of nourishment, no matter how small, was a step forward. He mustered a slight smile in response.

"Don't worry, I'll take the blame," he reassured you gently.

Digging into your bag, you found a green apple that Draco had given you earlier. After looking at it for a few moments, you take a bite, letting out a soft sigh, feeling relieved to have taken the first step.

Tom was taken aback by your compliance but visibly eased. He kept a close watch on you, alternating his gaze between you and the apple, ready for any sudden discomfort.

You managed a few bites, a glimmer of hope emerging as you felt relief wash over you. However, suddenly, a wave of nausea engulfed you, shattering your temporary relief.

The apple slipped from your hand, falling to the floor as you quickly made your way to the bin in the corner of the room. Tom's eyes widened in concern as he stood up, closing the distance between you.

Placing a comforting hand on your back, he gently rubbed up and down, hoping to provide you with some comfort, his heart ached as the sounds of your retching filled his ears. You felt embarrassed as you vomited, thankful that your head was hidden by the trash can. Tears mixed with distress as you struggled, feeling vulnerable in front of your professor.

Tom's heart pained with each sound you made, but he didn't turn away. He kept his hand steady on your back, offering a soothing, regular pat as he stood by you until you were completely done.

After you regained some composure, he gently led you away from the bin and helped you sit in a chair nearby. Kneeling in front of you, he kept comforting you by rubbing your back tenderly, his touch soft against your trembling body. You were breathing heavily, your hands shaking, tears streaming down your cheeks—it had only been two days, yet it already felt like an eternity.

He felt his chest constrict as he saw you in so much distress. Tom took a seat next to you on the floor, keeping his hand on your back as he gently rubbed it, trying to offer comfort without causing more distress. At that moment, all he desired was to hold you tightly and protect you from the pain until it vanished.

"If it's not gone in a week... then I can't guarantee that I’ll still be here," you murmured, your voice filled with determination.

Tom's heart raced, his hand pausing on your back. Gazing at you, his tone was resolute, allowing no room for argument. "Don't even entertain that idea, do you understand?"

"This is hell... there are no records of the dark mark causing this effect on people.. so, how are we to cure it?" you whispered, your distress apparent in your voice.

Tom felt an even deeper pang of sadness at your words. The idea of the dark mark affecting you so severely was unbearable. His mind raced with countless possibilities; there had to be a solution. Meeting your eyes, he spoke in a determined, low voice.

"We will find a way... I will find a solution for you. I refuse to give up, and I won't let you give up either. You will overcome this, you must overcome this..." he whispered the last few words to himself, in attempts to bring him comfort.

You were adamant, insisting, "One week is all I can give.. I can't keep going for much longer."

Tom's breath caught at the thought of you losing hope in a week. He held your hands tightly, his eyes filled with determination.

"No, you can't put a time on this. I promised I will find a solution for you. You can't give up," he said firmly.

"By then, I might not even be alive... You saw how it went just now. I can only keep down water... My body won't make it like this," you whispered, tears forming once again.

Your grim prediction weighed heavily on him.

"You will not be dead in a week, don’t think like that, you will come out on the better side of this.. so promise me you won’t give up so soon."

"Fine, I promise" you finally conceded, your voice almost inaudible.

Tom let out a quiet sigh of relief. While still holding your hands, he loosened his grasp slightly and began to gently stroke the backs of your hands with his thumbs. Despite intense emotions welling up inside him, he fought to keep his composure.

You sat at the Slytherin table amidst your friends, enveloped in a silence that echoed louder than any conversation. Chin resting on your hand, you stared blankly ahead, your eyes fixed on the wall, unseeing. Not a single bite of food had touched your lips since you arrived, lost in thoughts that seemed to drown out the lively chatter around you.

Sitting at the head of the staff table, Tom focused all his attention on you. He watched as you remained motionless among friends, a look of worry forming in his chest. It was evident that you had no desire to eat, your empty stare fixed on the wall as if attempting to flee from your thoughts. Nobody at the table appeared to register your distress, preoccupied with their concerns and oblivious to the inner turmoil you were experiencing.

Meanwhile your eyes fill with tears as you come to grips with the harsh reality of your situation: your life is hanging by a thread, and time is slipping away. While those around you laugh and have fun, you grapple with the grim uncertainty of how much time remains. Suddenly, you rise from your seat, disregarding your friends’ calls, and storm out of the Great Hall, seeking solace in the tranquillity of the girl's bathroom.

Tom’s eyes widen as he watches you leave in haste, concern etched deeply on his face. He sees the worry wash over him like a wave, wondering what could have driven you to leave so abruptly. Amidst the oblivious conversations at the table, he can’t ignore the urgency to check on you. Ignoring the limitations of his position as a professor, his heart compels him to go after you.

Rushing down the hallway, you rub at your eyes attempting to unsuccessfully stop the flood of tears. Arriving at the bathroom, you grip the sink tightly, knuckles turning white from the force as sobs rack your body. It feels like an endless torment, each tear a reminder to the pain that has consumed you for days.

Standing outside the bathroom door, Tom’s heart shatters with every sob that echoes through the silence. He longs to barge in, to hold you close and reassure you that everything will somehow be alright. But he remains rooted in place, torn between his duty as a professor and his overwhelming desire to comfort a distraught student.

Standing outside the bathroom door, Tom’s heart shatters with every sob that echoes through the silence. He longs to barge in, to hold you close and reassure you that everything will somehow be alright. But he remains rooted in place, torn between his duty as a professor and his overwhelming desire to comfort a distraught student.

Staring into the mirror, tears streaming down your face, you take in your grim appearance staring at back at you. Your hand finds its way to your wand, a chilling thought forming in the depths of despair. Whispering to yourself, “He doesn’t have to know” you contemplate actions that could bring an escape from your pain.

Tom is motionless when he hears your quiet words, feeling each syllable like a jolt of fear. Every instinct tells him to act, to stop any hasty decisions. With his heart pounding, he can't just stand and watch, waiting for a disaster to happen.

Tom pushes the bathroom door open and strides in with determination. Your tear-filled, red and swollen eyes meet his, showing a mix of despair and relief as he arrives.

He never looks away from your eyes as he talks, his tone remaining steady even though he's filled with emotions.

“Put the wand down…”

Your head shakes involuntarily as the weight of your words hangs heavy in the air. "I can't do this anymore…"

Tom feels his heart skip a beat at your statement. His mind races, trying to comprehend the seriousness of what you have just expressed, although he dreads that he already understands. Slowly, cautiously, he takes another step closer, his voice steady yet tinged with desperation.

"Put the wand down, please… You aren’t going to do that…"

In response, you point your wand at him, your hand trembling with the weight of your emotions. "You don't understand! You have no idea what it's like… to live like this," your voice quivers with every word.

Tom’s breath hitches as he stares down the wand pointed at him. His heart pounds, his own voice betraying the fear and concern that gnaw at him.

"It's tough, but you're stronger than this. You don't have to give up.. Please, lower the wand…"

"I don't have much time left. I can't seek help from Dumbledore, Pomfrey, or even my own brother to extend my life! This is the end… There is no solution, not in books, not even in restricted sources! Nothing!" Despair fills your voice, each word reflecting the depth of your hopelessness.

Tom fights the urge to grab the wand from your hand. Instead, he begs, his voice filled with desperation and anguish.

"I've been searching tirelessly to find anything that might be able to cure you… I just need more time…"

"You've been saying that all along… and yet, here we are," you softly say, the weight of defeat evident in your voice. It's a painful recognition of the shared battle against an unavoidable fate.

Tom appears directly in front of you, his eyes fixed on yours, his words filled with emotion.

"… Just a bit longer, please…"

"I have no time! I can't eat or sleep, I can barely function without falling down!" Tear stains mark your cheeks as you speak with emotion choking your words.

Tom’s heart feels like it's on the verge of breaking, seeing you in such pain. His own eyes well up with tears reflecting your anguish as he speaks in a trembling voice.

“Please, just a few more days. I'm working so hard to find something… Please, just hold on…”

After you lower the wand from pointing at him, a brief sense of relief crosses Tom’s face. However, it quickly changes to shock as you direct it towards your own neck. Without hesitation, he moves quickly, grabbing the wand from your grasp and pulling you close to him.

“NO!” he shouts.

You let out a cry as he wraps you in his arms, his hold strong and resolute. In that moment, you feel utterly out of control, understanding that your last attempt to escape has been foiled.

"Never do that again…"

Tom clings tightly to your arm, one hand supporting the back of your head, refusing to release you. He senses your body shaking against his, torn between distress and solace.

“no..” you object, sobbing as your hands weakly strike against his chest, futile in your resistance against his strength. "You can't put me through this!"

“I said never again…”

His tone is resolute, authoritative, as he draws you into a tighter embrace, keeping you steady.

As you struggle against him, Tom’s arms tighten around you, preventing you from falling. Your face presses against his chest, you whisper your plea, your voice barely audible.

"Stop trying to keep me alive…"

“No” his voice firm yet gentle “I will never give up on you.. never..”

Tom’s voice is resolute, refusing to entertain the notion of giving up. He holds you close, his arms a shield against your despair, determined to fight for you even when you can’t find the strength to fight for yourself.

The past few days had been an agonizing blur for the young professor. He found himself pacing in his office, flipping through tomes in a desperate search for any solution to your predicament.

He hadn't slept for two days, as the stress of knowing someone was suffering and his own inability to help ate away at his conscience. In the still darkness of his room, Tom lay awake, tormented by thoughts of you. His worry for your well-being prevented any chance of rest, despite the need to prepare for morning classes.

Tom struggled with feelings of guilt as he lay wide awake, realizing that he couldn't inquire about your well-being without crossing professional boundaries. The act of confiscating your wand in the restroom lingered in his mind; although necessary to prevent harm, it weighed heavily on his heart.

As the sun started to rise, Tom remained in bed, worn out but unable to find comfort in sleep. Dark circles accentuated his eyes, evidence of his troubled night. Thoughts of your upcoming lessons weighed on his mind; he understood that you approached each day with suffering and diminishing strength.

During the Defence Against the Dark Arts class, you found it challenging to concentrate as you sat at the back. This subject used to be your favourite, but now even the simplest tasks seem difficult to grasp. Tom, attempting to maintain his composure, moved around the students and stole glances at your distant figure.

Your usual enthusiasm had vanished, replaced by a fog of pain and exhaustion. Every moment felt like a battle against overwhelming despair, leaving concentration an impossible goal.

As the lesson came to an end, Tom watched as the students left. He stayed at his desk, pretending to organize papers, but truly waiting for an opportunity to check on you.

You gathered your things slowly as the room emptied around you, with Tom watching and feeling his heart breaking with every moment he spent witnessing your pain.

After the last student left and the door clicked shut, Tom rapidly closed the distance between us. He spoke with a soft yet urgent voice that cut through the lingering silence.

“I need to talk to you…”

"Unless it's a solution to my problem… then I don't want to hear it," you responded sharply, with frustration evident in your voice. Tom flinched, hurt evident in his eyes, but he pressed on with determination.

“I’ve been searching for a solution all this time… I haven’t found anything useful yet, but I promise I won’t give up… I’m not giving up on you…”

"Well I have," you replied bitterly, your determination unwavering. "I'm finished, Professor. Because there is no solution! There is no escape from this…"

Tom's hand gently rested on your shoulder, his touch silently pleading. His voice shook with emotion as he spoke, determined to convey his resolve.

"You can't just surrender… There must be a solution… I'll find a way to assist you, you just have to trust me…"

"You have no idea… of the torture you're putting me through," you responded, your voice filled with anguish. Tom's grip on your shoulder tightened, his pain evident as he struggled to reply.

“Just give up already” you sneer at him

Leaving without saying another word, you threw your bag over your shoulder and angrily left the classroom. Tom was torn, unsure whether to follow after you or respect the boundaries between you. With fists clenched, he chose to stay put, feeling overwhelmed by his inability to help you.

Alone in the quiet classroom, Tom felt his heart sink. He had hoped that his words would bring some comfort, but instead, they seemed to deepen the despair. Standing there, he grappled with the realization that his efforts might have pushed you further into darkness.

you made your way toward the girl’s bathroom; the burden of your illness was too much to handle in the classroom. you didn't attend lessons, instead dropping your bag and collapsing onto your knees in a stall, clutching your skirt as dry heaves wracked your body, squeezing your stomach when there was nothing left to expel.

When Tom managed to leave the classroom and get to the girls' bathroom, his heart was heavy with a premonition of what you might be going through. He couldn’t bear the thought of you facing this alone.

When he entered the bathroom, the sight of you kneeling before the toilet, retching with nothing to show for it, shattered his heart.

Tom couldn't bear to stay still any longer, so he crouched down next to you, perching on his knees. His soft hand settled on your back, making slow circles to provide reassurance.

"Just let it all out…"

You wept into the toilet, the sound carrying your anguish. Amid such a terrible moment, his comforting touch was a small source of comfort.

"shh… just breath, darling…"

Despite feeling a glimmer of calm thanks to his presence, another wave of sickness overcame you. As you opened your eyes, they met with a horrifying sight – blood pooling in the toilet, more dribbling from your mouth.

My body collapsed backward, leaning against the stall wall, panic seizing me as blood continued to flow from my lips.

Tom immediately rushed to your side, his arms supporting your weight against the wall. His heart raced with fear at the sight of your deteriorating state, feeling utterly powerless.

“Just try to stay calm, alright? Just breathe…”

Despite your efforts to regulate your breathing, fear still gripped your entire body. Tom held you tightly against him, your back pressed against his chest, his arm wrapped around your waist trying to steady your trembling form.

“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart… Just try and breathe, okay? Just keep breathing…”

Lying there against him, another violent cough wracked your body, more blood splattering out, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“I changed my mind… I don’t want to die…” you whisper, voice hoarse.

He heard the pain in your strained voice, and his heart ached for you. The blood’s effect on your throat was evident, adding to his anguish.

“You’re not going to die… you’re going to be okay, love…”

“It’s because I’m a Potter, isn’t it?” you forced a laugh, which only resulted in a fit of bloody coughs.

His heart clenched with guilt at your words. He held you tighter, yearning to ease your pain.

“Don’t speak, sweetheart. Just rest your voice for a moment, okay?”

He continued to hold you close, whispering softly, his touch and voice offering the only comfort in this harrowing moment.

“Can you look at me, sweetheart?”

Your eyes flickered up to his, and he saw the struggle within you as you forced yourself to take deep breaths.

In that bathroom stall, amidst pain and fear, you found a brief respite in his embrace. Tom’s presence was a lifeline, a steady force of comfort and support in the midst of your darkest hour.

Taking repetitive deep breaths, you choked intermittently, focused on the task he had set for you. Each breath felt like a battle against the curse ravaging your body, each cough a painful reminder of the ordeal.

His heart ached as he listened to the deep breaths interspersed with coughs. Each sound echoed the agony you endured, intensifying his guilt.

He gently pressed his palm against your forehead, gauging your feverish warmth. The realization that you were still too hot under his touch pained him deeply.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart… just keep breathing like that…”

Tom continued his soothing touch, tracing gentle circles on your back. His other hand remained on your forehead, sensing the lingering heat despite the temporary calmness.

His heart hurt knowing this was only the beginning of your suffering. He yearned to trade places with you, to shoulder this anguish instead.

You released your grip on your skirt, letting your hand rest on your stomach. Your gaze remained fixed, concentrating on maintaining steady breaths.

Feeling you finally relax against him, Tom continued to rub your back soothingly, relieved to see you easing your grip and finding a bit of reprieve.

“Just rest your focus on keeping that steady breathing, love… You’re doing so well…”

His touch and voice brought a serene peace, helping you focus on the rhythmic breathing that brought a fleeting sense of tranquillity amidst the turmoil.

Tom found solace in your relaxed state against him. Feeling your body ease brought him a sense of comfort he desperately needed.

You felt his steady heartbeat against you, a silent assurance that you weren’t alone. His closeness offered security you hadn’t felt in a long time, a shared moment of vulnerability.

He observed as you raised your hand to wipe away the remaining blood staining your lips, a pang hitting his heart. Gently grasping your wrist, he lifts your hand away from your face, his touch soft yet firm.

“Careful… don’t keep touching your lip like that,…. I’ll take care of it in a minute…”

“It feels disgusting.. want it gone…”

Your voice was hoarse, a painful reminder of the toll the curse had taken on your throat.

Understanding your disgust and discomfort, Tom’s heart ached. He spoke softly, fingers gently guiding your chin to keep your face turned towards him.

“I know it does…. Just give me a moment, okay? I’ll take care of it, sweetheart…” You nodded slightly, trusting him to help, a flicker of relief knowing you weren’t facing this alone.

Releasing your chin, Tom retrieved his wand from his pocket. With a soft, reassuring tone, he asked you to close your eyes.

“Close your eyes for me, just for a moment…”

Hesitating briefly, you closed your eyes slowly, finding a rare moment of peace after days of turmoil.

Tom directed his wand towards your face, whispering the cleaning spell. “Tergeo…”

Watching the blood disappear, he felt a wave of relief. The sight of your clean lips eased his heart, a small reprieve from the pain etched on your face.

“You can open your eyes now, sweetheart…”

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze instantly, a sense of relief washing over him. Feeling a bit better, you were grateful not to be overwhelmed by panic.

He smiled softly, holding your face gently, his eyes fixed on yours, his voice low and soothing.

“There you are… I’m glad you seem a bit calmer now…”

You said nothing, overwhelmed with thoughts of the suffering ahead. How long would this ordeal last? “All i want is to sleep..” You muttered, too exhausted to cry.

Your exhaustion and pain were palpable in your tired voice, and it made his heart clench. He desperately hoped that you would find some relief in sleep, even if only for a short while.

"I know, love… I wish you could rest now…"

"use the enchanted sleep charm…" you whispered, softly

Your eyes pleaded with him as they met his, urging him to allow you the comfort of sleep.

Seeing your pleading gaze tugged at his heart, making him conflicted about using the sleep charm on you in such a vulnerable state. Nevertheless, he recognized that it might provide the relief you so desperately needed.

"Are you certain that's what you want?"

With concern lacing his soft voice, he hesitates as he contemplates your plea.

"I'm exhausted… Please, I need it," you say, the weariness and desperation evident in your tone.

The weight of your request burdens him, stirring a sense of guilt at the idea of using the spell on you. However, he senses your fatigue and knows he needs to do whatever he can to assist.

"Fine… I'll do it, but just for a short while, okay?" he agrees softly, his nod tinged with a mix of compassion and apprehension. In response, you nod, gratitude evident in your eyes as you understand his decision.

With appreciation for your understanding and gratitude for your trust, he offers a gentle smile despite his own uncertainties.

Gently resting his palm on your jaw, he keeps his touch tender, ensuring your eyes stay connected with his.

“Keep your eyes open for just a moment for me, okay?"

"Mhm…" You softly murmur, hoping the spell will grant you the peace you long for, even if only temporarily.

Seeing your agreement, he smiles softly, as he prepares to cast the spell.

After he utters the spell, a sense of relief washes over you. Your eyelids close gently, your breath becomes steady, and your body becomes limp in his arms.

Letting out a deep exhale, he feels a burden lift from his chest as he observes you finally finding tranquillity in sleep.

He maintains his closeness, gently holding your relaxed body. From your forehead to your hair, his fingertips softly glide, providing comfort as he places a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

"There you go… You're safe."

Since the sleep charm took hold of your body, time seemed to stretch on endlessly. Vomiting blood had become apart of your daily routine, as regular as the sunrise. It had been two weeks since the cursed mark first showed up, yet any hint of a remedy remained out of reach.

During Defence Against the Dark Arts class, you remained silent, feeling your hope fade with each passing moment. Tom's attentive gaze never wandered far from you as he conducted his lecture. His worry was obvious, seen in the quick glances he cast your way, observing every hint of discomfort or pain that flitted across your face.

While you struggled to concentrate on Tom's teachings, you couldn't shake the feeling of his intense gaze fixated on you. Just when you started to feel some peace, the familiar metallic taste flooded your mouth, causing a wave of silent panic. The presence of other students in the room only amplified your anxiety, as you knew what was about to unfold.

Tom continued with his lesson, fully engrossed, but he remained acutely aware of any small changes in your behaviour. His heart sank as he saw the panic taking over you, indicating the beginning of another round of suffering. Without a second thought, he carefully made his way over to you, his steps purposeful yet inconspicuous, not wanting to attract unnecessary attention.

Seconds passed, and before you could react, pain seized you, doubling over in your seat as blood spilled from your lips. Tom reached you swiftly, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm. Kneeling beside you, he glanced briefly at the other students before focusing entirely on your distress.

"This is so humiliating," you whispered hoarsely, tears welling up as you struggled to contain the situation. Tom's voice, low and steady, cut through the chaos, soothing me with reassurance.

"Try to block them out for now. Concentrate on your breathing."

"Please, get me out of here," you pleaded, your tear-filled eyes locked onto his.

Tom's response was immediate and decisive. "Come on. I'll take you to the infirmary."

Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself, finding a glimmer of hope in his steady guidance. Holding tightly onto his hand, we navigated the corridors, his voice a gentle murmur of encouragement as we neared the sanctuary of the infirmary.

"Just a little further, sweetheart," he murmured softly, his touch a comforting reassurance against the turmoil raging inside you.

Upon reaching the infirmary, relief washed over us as the door swung open, ushering us into a haven of calm amidst the turmoil of the day. The room was quiet, save for a few occupied beds, offering a sense of privacy and respite. Tom led you to an unoccupied bed, his demeanour calm yet filled with concern as he helped you settle.

"Here we are, away from prying eyes," he said gently, his words a balm to your frazzled nerves.

"I just want it to be over," you whimpered, fresh tears streaming down your cheeks.

Tom's heart ached at your anguish, his touch tender as he comforted you. "I know, sweetheart. I wish there was more I could do to ease your pain."

Sensing a presence nearby, you whispered anxiously, "What if she sees the mark?"

Tom's expression turned serious, his voice low as he assured you, "It'll be alright. Stay calm. I'll make sure she doesn't notice."

Nodding in trust, you felt a wave of relief knowing Tom was there to shield you. Madam Pomfrey approached, her eyes scrutinizing our scene with a mix of concern and authority.

Tom met Madam Pomfrey's gaze steadily, his expression calm despite the urgency he felt. He knew he had to tread carefully to protect you from any unnecessary scrutiny.

"Madam Pomfrey, she's feeling unwell," he began, his voice measured and composed. "I was just bringing her here to rest for a bit."

Madam Pomfrey's gaze shifted to you, her brow furrowing as she took in your pale complexion and the traces of blood on your face. Her concern deepened, but Tom maintained his reassuring demeanour.

"She had a sudden bout of illness in class," Tom continued, choosing his words carefully. "I thought it best to bring her here immediately."

Madam Pomfrey nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly as she assessed the situation. She approached you with a gentle but firm manner, preparing to examine you more closely.

"Let me take a look at you, dear," she said kindly, reaching for her wand. "We'll see what we can do to help."

You glanced nervously at Tom, silently pleading for his guidance in this moment of uncertainty. He nodded subtly, his eyes conveying reassurance as he squeezed your hand gently.

"It's okay," he whispered softly. "She's here to help."

You nodded hesitantly, allowing Madam Pomfrey to proceed with her examination. Tom stood by your side, his presence a steady anchor amidst the turmoil of the situation. As Madam Pomfrey began her assessment, Tom kept a watchful eye on you, silently praying for a solution to end your suffering.

Madam Pomfrey's examination was thorough yet gentle, her experienced hands and wand moving with practiced precision as she checked your vitals and assessed your condition. With each passing moment, Tom's concern grew palpable, his eyes never leaving your face, silently urging you to stay strong through this ordeal.

After what felt like an eternity of tense silence, Madam Pomfrey finally straightened up, her expression thoughtful yet composed. She glanced between you and Tom before speaking in a calm tone that belied the seriousness of the situation.

"I can see you're going through a lot, dear," she began, her voice laced with empathy. "We'll need to take some measures to manage your symptoms and monitor your condition closely."

Tom nodded in agreement, his gaze unwavering as he silently conveyed his support for whatever course of action Madam Pomfrey deemed necessary. He knew this was beyond his expertise, trusting in her ability to provide the best care possible.

Madam Pomfrey then turned to Tom, her expression softening slightly as she addressed him directly.

"Mr. Riddle, I'll need your assistance in ensuring her comfort and maintaining her privacy," she said with a hint of urgency. "We must keep a close watch on her condition and any developments."

Tom nodded again, his commitment to protecting your well-being unwavering. "Of course, Madam Pomfrey," he responded calmly. "I'll do whatever is needed to help."

With that, Madam Pomfrey began to lead the way, guiding both of you to a nearby bed where you could rest and receive the care you needed. Tom remained by your side, his hand still clasped gently in yours, offering silent reassurance and support as you navigate this challenging moment together.

As you settled onto the bed under Madam Pomfrey's watchful eye, Tom took a seat beside you, his presence a steadfast comfort amidst the uncertainty. He knew the road ahead would be difficult, but he was determined to stand by your side every step of the way, supporting you with unwavering loyalty and compassion.

"I'm scared," you quietly confided in him, making sure not to be overheard by the matron, the fear in your voice unmistakable.

Tom felt his heart tighten at your admission. Moving closer, he urgently but gently reassured you, his voice a comforting presence amid the anxiety surrounding us.

"I understand, love. It's natural to be afraid. But you're not alone. Madam Pomfrey is doing everything in her power to help us figure this out. Try to stay calm, okay?"

"Okay," you murmured softly, his hand gently squeezing yours in a gesture of silent support..

Your response brought a flicker of relief to Tom, and he was thankful that his touch could provide comfort in your shared unease. He held onto your hand firmly, keeping his gaze steady as Madam Pomfrey examined with a concerned and puzzled expression.

"Your body is being affected by some unknown form of magic, but I can't determine the exact cause," she said with furrowed brows.

Madam Pomfrey's words filled Tom with a surge of anxiety, as the uncertainty of the situation weighed heavily on him. He recognized that despite her expertise, there were limitations to what she could uncover. He turned to you, his eyes reflecting the concern that mirrored your own. "We'll figure this out," he murmured reassuringly, though his voice held a note of unease. "We just need to be patient and trust that Madam Pomfrey will find a way."

You weakly nodded, attempting to compose yourself despite the fear eating away at you inside. Tom's presence next to you was a source of stability, grounding you in the midst of the medical jargon.

Madam Pomfrey continued to examine the charts and magical symbols she had summoned, her forehead creasing further with each passing moment. "The healing charms are producing an unusual reaction," she murmured more to herself than to us. "There's a resistance that I can't quite explain."

Tom moved in closer, speaking in a hushed tone, "What does that mean?" Her gaze flickered between us, her expression troubled. "It means," she began carefully, "that whatever is affecting you is unlike anything I've encountered before. It's not just magical, it's… complex."

Her words made your heart sink, as a surge of despair felt like it might consume you. Tom silently expressed his support by tightening his grip on your hand. "What are our options?" he inquired, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his eyes.

Madam Pomfrey let out a soft sigh, her sympathetic gaze fixed on you. "At the moment, we'll observe and wait. I'll speak with some colleagues to gather any insights or experiences with similar cases."

and wait we did. patiently.

Weeks passed with a relentless rhythm of uncertainty and hope in the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey's consultations with other healers yielded little clarity on the mysterious ailment that gripped you. Despite her best efforts and the collective wisdom of experts, your condition continued to confound them all.

Tom remained a constant presence by your side, his support unwavering even as fatigue etched lines of concern on his face. Each day, he arrived early, often before you woke, and stayed late into the night, offering comfort through the long hours of tests, treatments, and waiting.

The infirmary became a second home, its white walls and sterile smell a stark contrast to the vibrant life you once knew outside. You missed the bustle of the Great Hall, the laughter of students, the company of your friends and your brother and the routine of classes. But most of all, you missed the freedom of being healthy and carefree.

Yet, despite his efforts, there were moments of despair that even his unwilling support couldn't dispel. On the darkest nights, when pain kept sleep at bay and fear gripped your heart like a vice, you would lie awake, listening to the distant sounds of the castle and wondering if life beyond these walls would ever be yours again.

One night, the infirmary window was illuminated by the silver glow of the moon, and you were having difficulty breathing. The pain had grown stronger, an unyielding ache that felt like it was penetrating every part of you. Beside you, Tom shifted in his chair, his eyes showing concern as he reached out to hold your hand.

"Are you feeling alright?" His voice was tender, but you could sense the underlying worry.

You managed a weak nod, though the effort left you breathless. "Just… hurts," you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible.

Tom pressed a cool cloth to your forehead, his touch soothing against your clammy skin. "I'm here," he murmured softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "We'll get through this, I promise."

The words offered a flicker of comfort, but you couldn't shake the fear that this pain marked a worsening of your condition. Madam Pomfrey had done everything within her power, yet answers remained elusive, leaving you to confront the harsh reality that your time might be running out.

Days blurred into nights, each filled with a cycle of hope and despair. Tom continued to balance his responsibilities as a professor with his unwavering commitment to your care. His dedication was a testament to the depth of his feelings, a silent declaration that spoke volumes even amid the chaos of your circumstances.

One afternoon, as sunlight filtered through the infirmary windows, Madam Pomfrey entered with a somber expression. Her footsteps echoed softly on the tiled floor, drawing both your attention.

"I've consulted with healers from across Europe," she began, her voice tinged with a mixture of exhaustion and determination. "There's one last possibility we haven't explored."

Tom leaned forward, his expression hopeful yet cautious. "What is it?"

She hesitated for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts. "There's a rare potion, ancient and highly complex," she explained slowly. "It's not without risks, but given the circumstances…"

Your heart raced at the glimmer of hope her words ignited. Tom squeezed your hand gently, his eyes locked on Madam Pomfrey. "What do we need to do?"

Her gaze softened, recognizing the fragile thread of optimism that tethered you to her expertise. "I'll need to prepare the ingredients," she said quietly. "It will take time, and there are no guarantees."

Tom nodded solemnly, his resolve unwavering. "Do whatever you need to do," he said firmly. "We trust you."

Madam Pomfrey nodded, a hint of gratitude in her tired eyes. "I'll begin immediately," she assured you both before turning to gather the necessary components.

Working diligently to mix potions and prepare spells, Tom stood by my side, offering quiet comfort and companionship. We both understood the high stakes and uncertain outcome, but in that moment, hope burned bright in the face of adversity.

Hours stretched into agonizing anticipation, the air thick with tension as Madam Pomfrey meticulously completed her preparations. Finally, with a sigh of relief, she turned to both of you, a vial in hand.

"This is it," she said quietly, her voice carrying the weight of responsibility. "It needs to be administered carefully. Are you ready?"

You glanced at Tom, seeing the mirrored hope and fear reflected in his eyes. You nodded slowly, your heart pounding with a mixture of apprehension and desperate hope.

Madam Pomfrey approached with measured steps, her demeanor focused yet gentle. "This potion will be administered in small doses," she explained as she prepared a syringe with meticulous care. "It's designed to counteract the effects of the unknown magic, but its potency requires caution."

Tom took a steadying breath, his hand tightening around yours as Madam Pomfrey injected the first dose. A surge of warmth spread through your veins, followed by a wave of dizziness that made you clutch Tom's hand tighter.

"It's working," Madam Pomfrey murmured, a glimmer of relief in her voice. "Just a little more."

The minutes ticked by, each dose bringing a gradual easing of the pain that had plagued you for so long. Tom's presence beside you was a constant anchor, his quiet strength bolstering your resolve as you navigated this final, precarious hope.

At last, when the final dose was administered, Madam Pomfrey stepped back, her eyes fixed on you with a mixture of hope and apprehension. "Now we wait," she said softly.

Tom leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. "You're going to be alright," he whispered fiercely, his voice trembling with emotion.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to believe in the possibility of a future beyond the confines of the infirmary walls. Beside you, Tom remained vigilant, his hand never leaving yours as you waited for the potion to take effect.

Hours passed in tense silence, the weight of your collective hope and fear hanging heavy in the air. Then, as dawn painted the sky outside the window, you felt a shift. The pain ebbed further, replaced by a sense of calm that settled deep within your weary bones.

"It's working," Madam Pomfrey breathed, her voice filled with wonder.

Tom's grip on your hand tightened, his relief palpable. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you whispered a silent prayer of gratitude, overwhelmed by the enormity of the moment.

With each passing hour, the effects of the potion became more pronounced, restoring strength and vitality that had seemed lost forever. You and Tom shared moments of cautious optimism, daring to dream of a future where laughter and light once again filled your days.

Days turned into weeks as you continued to recover under Madam Pomfrey's vigilant care. The infirmary walls no longer felt like a prison but a sanctuary where healing and hope flourished.

Tom was there every step of the way, celebrating small victories and offering unwavering support during setbacks. His love and devotion became the bedrock upon which you rebuilt your strength, his presence a constant reminder that life's greatest challenges could be faced with courage and resilience.

As you finally prepared to leave the infirmary, a mixture of emotions swirled within you. Gratitude for those who had stood by your side, determination to reclaim the life that had been put on hold, and a profound sense of love for the man who had never wavered in his belief that you could overcome even the darkest of trials.

Standing together at the threshold of a new beginning, Tom took your hand in his, his eyes shining with pride and joy. "We made it," he said softly, his voice filled with awe.

You nodded, overwhelmed by emotions that rendered you speechless. Instead of attempting words, you gazed up into his deep, dark eyes, now filled with hope and relief, sparkling like never before. Memories flooded your mind—moments of unwavering loyalty, his steadfast support through every trial. As you looked into his eyes, the golden sunlight bathing you both, a surge of courage and gratitude welled up inside.

Resting gently on his chest with one hand and finding its place on the back of his neck with the other, your lips hovered close to his, almost brushing against his, drawing you closer with a magnetic pull until the remaining distance was closed. The rush of warmth and reassurance spread through you the moment your lips met his. Instantly, his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tenderly, silently acknowledging the shared relief and joy.

You savored the taste of his lips, the feel of his arms around you, knowing that together, you had faced the darkest of trials and emerged stronger.

Breaking the kiss gently, you rested your forehead against his, breathing in sync with his steady heartbeat. "Thank you," you whispered softly, your voice barely audible but filled with all the love and gratitude you felt.

Tom's eyes, still locked with yours, reflected a depth of emotion that matched your own. "I love you," he murmured, his voice filled with emotion. "I love you too," you whispered, your voice shaking with the intensity of your emotions.

A tear of happiness escaped your eye as you spoke, tracing a path down your cheek as his words reached your ears.

As you looked ahead to the future, uncertainties still lingered, but you knew that as long as you were together, you could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

With Tom beside you, you felt invincible, ready to embrace the new beginnings that awaited outside the walls that had confined you for so long. The journey ahead would be filled with its own trials and joys, but with his love lighting the way, you were certain that your shared future would be nothing short of extraordinary.

And as the sun sets over Hogwarts, casting a warm glow over the grounds, you embrace the future with open hearts and a love that has proven itself unbreakable.

[turvi]

Promises

All images taken from Pinterest

Severus has been given the responsibility to protect Y/n who has been plagued by The Dark Lord's nightmares again but Y/n has her own secrets that had drawn Tom's attention towards her. Will Severus be able to protect Y/n or will the Dark Lord get to her.

DM me if you wanna get tagged for the next parts

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2

3

[slytherinboysappreciation]

Professor Tom Riddle x male reader where Tom becomes some sort of a parental figure to reader? Pretty please with a cherry on top? 😔🤞

Injured - Prof. T. R. x platonic male!Reader

A/N: I hope this is along the lines of what you were thinking of. I had a really hard time coming up with some Prof. Riddle fluff for some reason. It’s unedited, with no use of Y/N

CW: mentions of injury, boasting, platonic banter, fluff

503 words

“Professor!” You immediately brighten as Professor Riddle makes his way through the labyrinth of hospital beds. “I almost thought you wouldn’t show up!”

You’re Tom’s favorite student; an overachieving boy with a bit of a prideful personality, just like him. It makes you shine in the classroom, but pale in other areas.

Such as your quidditch skills.

You’re in the Hospital Wing for an injury to the ribs after a particularly grueling quidditch game. You’ve been in for a few days, and Tom has shown up at least once each day.

It’s becoming a bit of a regular thing, him coming to visit you. You’re sure you’ll miss it when you’re healed.

“How are you feeling today?” he greets you, moving to sit in the chair next to your bed. “You look much better since yesterday.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrug dismissively, then wince at the pain in your ribs. “What can I say? I’m a fast healer.”

Tom’s mouth twitches in amusement. “Quite on the contrary, you heal slower than the rest of your team.”

“Well, I’m the one who took a bludger straight to the ribs.” You cross your arms defensively, careful not to disturb the bandages around your chest. “Maybe it’s a wound that needs more time to heal.”

“Maybe…” He arches an eyebrow, a sure sign he’s about to tease you. “Or maybe you’re not the best at everything.”

You gasp, then cough a little as the sharp inhale sends starbursts of pain through your ribs. “Don’t you dare! I am the best at everything I do! I am the ultimate champion at life!”

Tom coughs into his fist, clearly trying to hide a laugh. “Oh, are you?”

“Don’t deny me my title! I will defend it with my life! It is mine by divine right!”

You’re fully prepared to go off on a rant about just how awesome you are, when a look from Madame Pomfrey shuts you up.

“But,” you mutter hastily, “I’ll do that some other time.”

Tom chuckles, and rests a hand on your shoulder. “A wise choice. I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”

You grin. “Thanks, Prof. You always do know how to cheer me up.”

He gives you an amused smile and settles back into his chair. “I brought the next book in the series you’re reading, if you care for me to read it.”

Your eyes light up. “Oh, yeah! That would be great!”

You lie back in your bed, getting as comfortable as you can as he pulls out the book. As he begins to read, you close your eyes, letting his smooth, engaging voice wash over you.

Before you realize it, you’ve fallen asleep, dreaming of a quidditch game where you win the House cup and achieve victory for your team.

Tom watches you sleep for a moment before getting up. He leaves the book by your bed, turning to leave.

With a nod to Madame Pomfrey and one last watchful look over you, Professor Riddle leaves the Hospital Wing, secure in his knowledge that you are healing just fine.

[ohthewh0rror]

Professor!Tom X Professor!Reader core

[slytherinboysvip]

Professor. | T.R

(Tw: Professor x Student, Dom/sub, Slight hints of corruption, Degrading, Slight sadism/masochisim, once again probably more but it’s late and i’m tired sry)

I wrote a bit differently than normal so let me know how you enjoy it <33

You sat behind the table, legs slightly open, hand leading up your thigh. Not visible to anyone; besides your professor that is. Was this by accident? Of course not. You could see his eyes flicking between everyone and what lays between those thighs of yours.

His face hardened, seemingly coming to his senses before harshly clearing his throat “I have nothing left for you to do. Just go, don’t make me regret my decision to let you out early.” You could hear some students quietly celebrating, packing their things.

You follow behind them till you feel a firm hand on your shoulder. “Y/n, you stay behind. I have some work you need to do.” His face was near your ear, warm breath making you shiver. “Yes professor.”

“Go on and bring a chair beside my desk” He sat down, watching you intently. You slowly bent down grabbing your things and placing them on his desk, just as you were going to place it down you dropped it all. “Oops” you said innocently.. definitely innocently.

You bent over once more, your skirt flipping directly in the direction of your Professor. No words left his mouth, he only cleared his throat. Standing up and placing your things on his desk you look at him, “Sorry professor, I didn’t mean for that to happen”

Without hesitation his arms wrapped around your waist “Stop acting like you’re not my good little slut” He began kissing your neck, nipping at it occasionally causing soft moans to leave your mouth. “Unbutton your shirt for me doll” He spoke between wet kisses making you desperately ache for him.

“Yes, Tom”. You felt a harsh slap on your ass, loud moan escaping your mouth “Fuck I’m sorry I meant yes sir” You apologized looking him in the eyes, ass still stinging. “Watch that pretty mouth of yours doll, it’ll get you in some big trouble”

Finally unbuttoning your shirt his lips immediately met your chest, sucking at the soft skin, sure to leave marks lasting weeks. “I cannot wait till I can leave these on that sweet neck of yours” His finger began to massage your chest softly, pinching your nipple occasionally making you gasp.

“Now let’s see how much of a whore you are” He whispered in your ear, fingers meeting your aching core. “Pathetic.” He scoffed. “I knew you were a whore, so wet for me” Soft smirk appearing on his lips.

“Tell me how pathetic you are” He grabbed your chin forcing eye contact. “Go on” He demanded squeezing your face harshly. “I’m so pathetic for you sir, I’ll do anything for you” You pleaded, his grip loosened “Good girl. On your knees for me pet”

Without hesitation you did as he said and began to unbuckle his belt, looking up at him as if asking if it was okay, soft nod leaving his head and you pulled his pants down a bit, dick springing forward and hitting back against his stomach

“Put your mouth to good use for me” He brushed his thumb against your cheek softly before slapping you, “Now.” He practically growled. “Yes sir.” You took him in your mouth, hand stroking what didn’t fit. He ripped your hand off and pushed your head down harshly, making you take all of him.

Gagging harshly as he fucked your face, nothing but grunts an occasional soft ‘fuck’ leaving his lips, but you knew you were making him feel good. And that fueled you enough to keep going just for him, knowing the reward would be worth it.

Finally letting go of your head, he grabbed your hair lifting you up, catching your breath you looked him in the eyes once more. “Such a beautiful mess you are, get back to it, make me finish.”

You grabbed his dick in your hand and began pumping it quickly from the base, taking the tip and whatever else you could fit in your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue. “Oh fuck” he deeply moaned, you looked up to see his head thrown back, arms resting ons the chair, his hands gripping harshly on the handles.

Quickening your pace you could hear his breath get heavier before yanking you off of him, “Fucking stick your tongue out for me” He quickly stood up, jerking his dick in the direction of your face, he threw his head back and came all over your tongue and face.

Catching his breath he looked back down towards you, smiling up at him showing him you swallowed it all. “Such an obedient girl, now come sit on my desk.”

Soooo how’d you like ittt! Hopefully you enjoyed it, I know it was short but if you want a part 2 in your pov of what Tom does to you just comment and like 😋 Mwah!

[your-nanas-house]

Last time ?

◇ Pairing: Student!Tom Riddle X Professor!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, handjob, nipple sucking, boobs, Tom Riddle, small age-gap, characters of age.

◇ Summary: Miss Y/l/n promised herself that it was the last time but Tom didn't want the same.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. This is part 2 of the fic "The Beginning". Enjoy (Part 3 here) Part 4

Several weeks had passed of the occurrence of Tom's little plan, things had not changed much, Y/n pretended it had never happened and he continued to think about her...constantly, incessantly and with his hand around his aching member.

The young magician needed more, he needed her and was aware of it, they needed each other. Y/n just had to realize it- she would do it sooner or later.

Another problem that bothered Tom was that he didn't know how he could find another moment like that, where they were alone, undisturbed and in perfect surroundings. The last few times the boy had tried to ask her for help, she had managed to send prefects or fellow household members to help him, thus ruining the young man's plans.

However, the more time passed and the more a positive feeling came over Tom, the wizard was sure that the right moment would come. Indeed, just as he had premeditated, the moment presented itself.

It was the perfect evening, the perfect place and the perfect time, he just had to get rid of the third wheel that was the older Slytherin prefect to be able to present himself in the DADA classroom all alone.

An innocent smile was on his face as he made his way into the room and slowly closed the door to catch Y/n by surprise, who was still arranging things on her desk.

She looked stunning, the pastel green dress she had decided to wear that day brought out her Slytherin spirit, the open buttons allowed a view of her boobs- her perfect boobs.

She had taken off her shoes for some bizarre reason, her hair was no longer combed and perfect as it had been during the previous lesson but was pulled up and secured with her wand, her hands grazed the parchment paper as her eyes y/e/c moved from left to right, she was clearly reading, Tom could tell, especially since she was wearing her reading glasses.

He had been lucky enough to see her wear them only a few times and each time they created some pleasant sensation in his body.

The young wizard, still wearing his uniform, approached her quietly with his usual pace and then wrapped his strong arms around her hips, pressing her like that against his chest as he left hungry kisses on her neck.

Y/n's body stiffened immediately, her gaze moving to the hands that were holding her captive, recognising the long fingers and pale skin almost immediately. "Tom-" she said his name before letting a gasp escape as the boy's hands pushed her onto her desk, before stroking down her arms with his hands to reach hers, holding them in an iron grip.

"Tom! What are you doing?!" the young professor asked him in an alarmed tone, a blush present on her face "I've missed you" was Riddle's reply, who began to move his pelvis slowly against her ass perfectly imprisoned by the skirt of her dress that now hugged every curve, thus giving Tom another reason to jerk himself off later.

Things did not go as planned, in fact they did not continue as per the Slytherin heir's initial plan. As soon as Y/n reached for her wand she managed to free herself from his grasp and finally meet the dark eyes with dilated pupils of his favourite student.

She pointed her wand at him as a warning not daring to open her mouth again, too embarrassed by the situation he had put her in, thighs clenched in arousal and a wet patch that was growing larger and larger on her hidden underwear, even her nipples had reacted by becoming erect and hard, struggling against the soft fabric of her dress that allowed the perfect view.

"We had a pact, the thing that happened in the prefects' bathroom was supposed to be the first and last time" Y/n quickly clarified, backing away a step as Tom approached not at all startled by the wand "don't tell me you didn't think about it constantly, I did, the memories continued to haunt me" the young man revealed as he moved closer and closer, trapping her against the desk "Tom" she warned him again receiving no response, "Tom" she tried again, focusing on keeping him away from her mind and body to avoid giving in another time.

"Don't you want to help a student of yours in need?" the boy joked in an amused tone, an iconic smirk on his face, his head tilted slightly "you're not a student in need" she replayed softly.

Tom could see from the state of his teacher that she was very close to giving in to the human's more animalistic desires and he knew all too well how to break her.

His large hand grasped hers and placed it right on his boner, which was still covered by the trousers of his school uniform. His voice became deeper as he spoke to her again confirming that he was in need of help "I am very much in distress and you are the teacher of reference for my house..don't you want to help me? I don't think the headmaster would be very happy about that..a good teacher like you who doesn't want to help and provide for her students…" Tom whispered the threat in her ear in a voice that could almost be considered sweet.

Y/n knew that if Tom spoke to the headmaster he would be able to charm him with his charisma, she herself had fallen for it more than once.

Even though..She didn't really want to leave this power to her student, with her mind partially clouded by need and the slight threat, she thought that doing it one more time with Tom seemed the best option.

So her hand that was threateningly gripping the wand lowered and with a swift movement Tom's trousers opened on their own, leaving his length free and less painful.

Now that Y/n had a chance to study it better, she could honestly admit that it was definitely beautiful, long, completely straight, its red tip contrasting with his normally pale almost white skin.

The young professor had time to fantasize a little before he decided they had to speed things up. The meeting with the prefects and teachers in charge of the house would be over in less than twenty minutes, and if Tom had stayed longer things might have looked suspicious.

Y/n's hand rested on his chest as his hungry lips attacked her neck, she moved slowly tracing an imaginary path until she reached his cock, she grabbed it pumping it a couple of times, surprised to feel it stiffen even more.

Tom used to remain as composed as possible in every day life but he almost became butter in Y/n's hands for some strange reason.

The boy let out a small moan as the young woman moved her hand to grasp his wand that she had repositioned in his hair.

Tom's hot tongue made its way to her cleavage as a gelatinous liquid coated his cock causing him to jerk from the change of temperature, his pitch black eyes lowered as he watched Y/n's lube stained hand stroke him quickly.

His mouth was slightly open, his eyes half closed but fixed on her, his hips were moving on their own fucking his teacher's hand at a fast speed.

"I've seen the way you look at me in class," Y/n began, quickening her pace and squeezing her hand slightly tighter, the other free hand began to unbutton her own shirt revealing her breasts imprisoned by her black lacy bra.

Tom grunted at the sight, his cock twitched and he had to take a deep breath not to come immediately, wanting that divine sensation that was the journey to orgasm was to last longer.

Y/n couldn't deny that she was surprised by the young boy's abilities, but she certainly wasn't surprised when her tits were released and Tom Riddle's pink lips captured her erect nipple, beginning to suck it like an infant eager for milk.

It was the first time anyone had ever gotten to suck on her nipples or consider them, Y/n had been with a few men before and after becoming a teacher at Hogwarts but no one had ever considered doing so.

It was a strange but definitely pleasurable sensation, his lips pulled at a leisurely pace on her nipple while his warm tongue ran over it as if he was studying its shape, taste, temperature- everything.

The stimulation of her nipples made the hand that was still stroking Tom's length stimulate the tip of his cock with her thumb, it also urged the other to move to play with his balls and little praises continued to come out of Y/n's untouched lips while she helped her student "in need" ride his peak.

It was an intense sensation, Tom could tell for sure, and so could Y/n since all his release had managed to soil her thighs, hands and even the floor.

Before the clock struck the pre-set time for the end of the meeting, Y/n still had time to bring her hand up to her mouth, tasting Tom as she maintained eye contact, breaking the silence after a few minutes.

"Last time" was the last thing he whispered in a stern tone before snapping her fingers and making everything go back to the way it was before, just in time for Albus Dumbledore to enter the classroom after knocking twice.

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj , @monkeyking-and-liuer-mate , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher , @sleepycreativewriter

[jupiterpp]

CHAPTER ONE: THE NEW FIFTH YEAR | 𝐅𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐝𝐠𝐞. -𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

important note; This is the first time I'm posting my stories on Tumblr. My mother tongue is not English so expect grammatical errors ahead.

word count: 1.2k words

MASTERLIST | CHAPTERS

"Merlin, [name], can you stop that?" Professor Slughorn let out a sigh. You had a mischievous look on your face when you saw him. The books were floating in the air because of your doing.

"Stop what, Professor?" 

"Honestly, do you have to rearrange my entire library every time you get bored? Some of us happen to enjoy a bit of organization," he said, raising an eyebrow.

You tried to stifle a laugh. "I was just trying to help, Professor."

"If this is your idea of help, I'd hate to see what your idea of chaos looks like. Although," he added with a twinkle in his eye, "I must admit, you have a certain flair for it."

You huffed and leaned back in your chair as the books began to return to their places. "Sorry, Professor. I'll try to keep my flair under control." you rolled your eyes, a playful smile plastered on your lips.

"Much appreciated," Slughorn said, settling into his chair with a satisfied sigh. "Now, you better prepare yourself for this coming semester," he continued, steepling his fingers and peering at you over them. "It will be your first time at Hogwarts. And you're starting your fifth year."

"Oh yeah," You said before glancing at him. "What house do you think I'll be in, professor?" 

Slughorn chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Ah, now that's the question, isn't it? Well, my dear, considering your remarkable talents and keen intellect, I wouldn't be surprised if you found yourself sorted into Ravenclaw."

Horace Slughorn had been your mentor and caretaker for four years now, ever since Dumbledore suggested he take you under his wing. His guidance and wisdom have been invaluable, shaping you into the person you are today.

Of course, hearing a child that could do wandless magic and time-travel into the future but can't turn back into the past is clearly music in Slughorn's ears.

"How about Slytherin?" You wiggled your eyebrows causing him to laugh shake his head and point at you.

"Even better," Slughorn said. Slughorn was the head of Slytherin house 

You haven't seen your parents for a year now. You come back to London every summer to visit them but you didn't this year because you need to focus more on your study. You sent them letters though.

Gosh, you miss your friends in London.

And then there's Riddle.

Oh, Tom Riddle. The thought of him hits you hard. You left without saying goodbye, and the guilt gnaws at you. You tried visiting the orphanage once, but he was nowhere to be found. Mrs. Cole mentioned he got accepted into some school and had to stay there.

Does he wonder why you disappeared? The memories of the times you spent together flood your mind. ou recalls his intense eyes, his lack of empathy, and his cold shoulders to everyone. And, of course, how he was such a weird kid. 

His piercing gaze seemed to look right through you, but there was always something unsettling about it. He never showed much emotion, and his interactions with others were often distant and detached.

But the way he could speak Parseltongue really bothered you. You read about it in a book about the founders of Hogwarts. It was a rare ability, associated with Salazar Slytherin himself. The idea that Tom could talk to snakes made your skin crawl.

'✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ೃ⁀➷-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-˚. ೃ⁀➷'✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

"It's quite difficult to catch him bullying other children," Mrs. Cole said as she put the laundry basket beside the laundry machine. "I'm sure your mother told you there have been incidents here?"

"Yeah," you replied, hopping onto the table and watching her. "Is he involved?"

"I believe so, indeed," she sighed. "Like with Billy's rabbit. Tom insisted he didn't do it, and I can't fathom how he could have, yet the rabbit certainly didn't hang itself from the rafters, did it?"

You stayed quiet, thinking about what she said. Riddle was a mysterious kid, always keeping to himself and giving everyone the cold shoulder. But he'd never been outright mean to you. You couldn't help but wonder.

"You're fourteen now, [name]," Mrs. Cole said. "You know what's right and wrong."

"Why so sudden?" you asked with a nervous laugh, uncertain of her direction. Your fingers fiddled with the hem of your shirt.

"Well, dear," she said, softening her tone but maintaining her serious expression, "you've known Tom for some time. If he's doing things that harm others, you must consider whether it's safe to remain friends with him." She paused, her eyes searching yours for understanding. "Though I must say, I'm really glad he made a friend." She added, a hint of a smile softening her features."

A wave of discomfort washed over you as her words sank in, and you furrowed your brows. "Is that what the staff here think of him?" you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief. "No wonder Riddle doesn't like any of the staff, except for my mother." You crossed your arms defensively.

'✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ೃ⁀➷-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-˚. ೃ⁀➷'✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

FIRST PERSON POV

The bustling commotion of King's Cross station was in full swing today, as children exclaimed heartfelt farewells to their parents before boarding the train.

"[name]," Professor Slughorn's voice rang out, catching my attention. I returned his nod, signaling my understanding as he motioned for me to join him on the train. "What has got your wand in a knot? The train leaves in a matter of minutes!"

"I'm sorry, Professor," I replied, a nervous laugh escaping my lips as we settled inside the compartment. He looked at the hallway for a second before closing the sliding door completely.

"now then, I want to say something before we arrive at Hogwarts." He said before taking a seat across from you. "It's crucial to remember, that your abilities are not a toy to be flaunted," Professor Slughorn continued, his voice dropping to a low, hushed tone.

"Don't worry, Professor," I said with a smirk, my eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. "I'll make sure to keep my powers under wraps. After all, I wouldn't want to outshine Merlin himself." A playful chuckle escaped my lips as I settled back into the seat.

"Jesus Christ." He shook his head with a low chuckle."Well, my dear, you may not have a charm-your-way-out-of-trouble spell, but you certainly seem to possess a rare gift for humor and wit," Professor Slughorn complimented, leaning back in his seat.

As the Hogwarts Express sped along its path, my gaze was drawn to the breathtaking landscape outside the window. The lush green hills seemed to roll on endlessly, each undulation illuminated by the warm rays of the sun.

"Oh right, I forgot to ask," I began before I glanced at Slughorn. "You mentioned that you've been mentoring someone at Hogwarts. When will I meet her?"

"Him," He corrects with a chuckle escaping his lips. Merlin, this guy really is a big chuckler. "You'll meet him soon enough. Don't worry. He's in the same year as you. He's quite a talented student, and I'm sure you'll have the opportunity to cross paths before long."

"Okay," I shrugged nonchalantly. He talks about the guy very often when he's mentoring me and trust me, it's annoying. Like come on, you're mentoring me and your mentor keeps talking about his other student? who wouldn't be annoyed by that?

I sat there, growing increasingly frustrated as Professor Slughorn's words buzzed around me like a swarm of persistent nifflers. "Brilliant young wizard," "exceptional student," blah blah blah.

But one thing that I've noticed is that he never told me his name. 

[sematarygirls]

tom riddle is so hot... okay, thanks for listening