#slytherin boys x oc

[nevereverthem]

HP one-shot : 😳 [Theodore Nott x OC] 😳

Warnings : smut!, dirty talk

Length : 3k

One nice angle...

Mirror, my beautiful mirror

They’re sitting on Theodore’s room floor. Sarah’s straddling him, frantically bucking her hips over the bulge forming in his trousers. The little chat they were having quickly turned into a make out session that got quite out of hand…

Theodore runs a hand on her head, grabbing a handful of hair. He yanks her head back to have a look at her face. Her cheeks are flushed, pupils dilated, she’s panting. Her eyes meet his and she doesn't shy away. She’s staring right at him, lips parted, no intention of stopping her movements. When Theodore bucks his hips up a little more roughly, she lets out a high-pitched whimper, head tipping back and eyes closing.

This vision drives him madly hungry for her. He forcefully pulls her lips to his, kissing his woman with all the fervour he has in him.

She is incredible! The way she gives in her pleasure with such confidence, with such trust in him. She’s beautiful! He’d like to fulfill all of her desires for the rest of eternity if it meant seeing her like this every time. An eternity of sexual slavery to this woman would be the heaven he’s dreamed of for as long as he can remember.

The kiss is sloppy due to their frantic motions, though they capture each other’s mouth with lips, teeth, tongue, anything to get some contact.

When Sarah manages to bite and pull at his lower lip for one long moment, they lose themselves in each other's eyes. His piece of flesh goes back in place as it escapes the cage of her teeth. Time seems to stop, just like their movements. They’re frozen in the instant, staring at each other with loving gazes, eyes filled with passion and lust.

Theodore lifts a hand up to her cheek, slowly sliding it on her skin until his fingers brush against her ear, catching it in between his fingers. His breath blows on her lips, which he can't stop looking at.

_ I love you.

At his words, Sarah leans closer, capturing his lips in the softest press of lips.

When they part, they join foreheads, both sighing in contentment.

_ I love you too.

They both can't help but smile childishly. Whenever they say these words to each other, it makes them want to kick their feet, even in this particular situation.

They kiss again, softly, exchanging their mutual feelings through skin and saliva.

A few seconds later, it’s hungrier, more fervent, passionate…

Sarah passes her fingers through Theodore’s brown locks, scraping his scalp with her nails. A low groan escapes from the man’s lips, satisfying the possessive instinct of the woman who starts grinding on him again. When her motions become rapid, she pulls back from his lips, resting her head on his shoulder, breathing heavily.

The friction is so good that she forgets where she is and what’s happening. She’s absentmindedly grinding on his member, arms lazily wrapped around his neck, panties damp. She rubs her clitoris on his shaft through the fabric, bucking her hips at a steady rhythm. She lets out a moan each time their hips meet. She doesn't care how ridiculous the sounds she makes can be. All that she cares about is the pleasure she’s getting from that sole action.

Every single one of her cries makes him lose his mind. He could come just by hearing her voice, perturbed by the waves of pleasure she’s experiencing. Fully clothed, rubbing against each other… Theodore wants more, always more. He’s burning under his robes. He needs to take them off, take hers off…

_ Stop.

Sarah hardly hears his voice, responding with just a sound, her head buried in the crook of his neck.

_ Honey, stop.

_ Nnnoo…

She tries to grind harder against him, a warm sensation building inside of her. Disappointedly enough, strong hands grip her hips to keep her still. She leans back, brows furrowed in annoyance.

_ I was close…

Her whining complaint almost makes him feel pity for her, though he can't hold back the grin that forms on his face. Edging wasn't part of his intentions, but he gets satisfaction from the result all the same. Theodore grabs her chin in between his fingers, pulling her face to his, just a few inches away. His steel gray eyes pierce through her emerald ones.

_ I’ll make you cum as hard as you want, my love. Don't you worry about that…

He talks in an authoritarian voice, his other hand leaving her hip to caress her bra-lees nipple through the fabric of her shirt.

_ … I’d like you to be naked though…

Sarah breathes shakily, trying to focus on his sentences. The feeling of his fingers playing with her breasts, and his burning gaze take all the free space of her mind. She tries her hardest to keep from grinding back on him. She can feel him getting harder with each second passing and she’d just want to use it appropriately.

Theodore innocently tilts his head to the side, still staring into her eyes.

_ …Can I have that?

He glances at her lips, her eyes, then her lips again, holding back the urge to lap at her reddened flesh.

_ I love seeing you enjoy yourself. It’s hot…

Images of her play in his mind and he gulps at the memory. The sound reaches Sarah’s ears, and it strangely wets her underwear even more.

_ … but I wanna touch you, the real you, not with all of this fabric hiding your beauty.

Rolling her nipple in between his middle and index finger, he pulls a little, earning a silent moan coming from the woman’s throat.

The desire displayed in the tone of Theodore’s voice makes it all worth the loss of release. She quickly gets rid of her robes and starts attacking her shirt’s buttons. She’s cut short by Theodore gripping her wrists.

_ Tut tut tut. Don't rush it.

His voice is now only a whisper. He’s learned only a few weeks ago that inflicting himself with frustration gets him the best hard-ons. Patience, holding back from devouring her whole… It’s infuriating, but so damn arousing at the same time…

He observes her face for a while, her confused expression softening when he finally runs a finger over her visage, his eyes following his movements. He then slides down on her throat and chest area, caressing the exposed skin resulting from the unbuttoned part of her shirt.

_ I want to unwrap you like a gift.

Sarah shivers at the thought, goose bumps forming on her arms.

_ You're the gift destiny’s given me. I’m taking good care of it, of you.

Saying the last part, Theodore’s gaze moves back to hers. She’s got a desperate look on her face, eyes pleading for touch. Her breathing is ragged from all of his talk. Her clitoris’ throbbing, her knickers are ruined and the feeling of his erection twitching against her entrance is just too much for her.

_ Theo… do something, please. Anything.

The desperation in her voice is enough for him to finally grant her wish.

_ Up.

She obeys immediately, getting to her feet, knees sore from staying bent a bit too long.

She doesn't have time to worry much since she’s being lifted from the floor by hands grabbing her thighs. Theodore leads her to the nearest desk, stopping just in front of it.

He puts her down, turning around to face the mirror on the other side of the room.

_ I want you to see how beautiful you are.

He slowly starts unbuttoning the rest of her shirt, eyes focused on his work.

Sarah can't take her eyes off the mirror, watching him undress her with gentle touches. Her shirt’s fully opened now. Her boyfriend tugs on the fabric to pull it out of her skirt. He slides it down her shoulders, removing it completely. He then does quick work of his own shirt, pressing his chest flushed against her back. His gaze back up to their reflection.

_ Look at you…

He stares at her reflected body with burning eyes, his erection brushing at her back. His hands slide from her shoulders to grab her breasts, twisting her nipples with wanting fingers. Theodore nuzzles at the nape of her neck, inhaling her scent. Sarah’s head falls back, low moans escaping her mouth.

_ Nuh uh. Eyes open, sweetheart.

She looks back at the mirror, facing her man’s devoted stare. Her chest is heaving under his touch and she starts grinding behind, trying to get some friction from the hard-on pressing against her ass. He lets her, joining her movements, eliciting louder moans coming from her throat. She wants more…

Without any prior warning, she turns around to grab his trousers, unbuckling his belt. She’s carefully slow in her movements, hoping to please her boyfriend’s desire of “gift unwrapping”. The pace of her motions seems to be satisfying since he patiently watches her work with a look of adoration on his face.

When she unzips his trousers, Theodore stops her. She looks up at him with a worried expression. She doesn't want to be denied, not now, not again…

Luckily for her, the man slides a hand in his boxers to free his hard member from the torture of underwears. Sarah instantly grabs his sex with her hand, firmly closing around it.

Theodore releases a relieved breath of satisfaction, automatically bucking his hips up, jerking himself off in the warmth of her hand.

Sarah can't help but giggle at his reaction, an amused smile growing on her face.

_ I thought you wanted it veeeery slow…

Theodore freezes a second, shaking his head disapprovingly. He grabs her neck with both hands, eyes dark, pulling her into a rough kiss. She is not using his own words against him! He nibbles her bottom lip, moving to her neck to suck dark marks on her skin. One of his hands leaves her neck to lift her skirt up and grab her ass, digging his nails into her cheek. Sarah lets out low moans, melting under the sensations. She rubs her thighs together, trying to get some friction. Her knickers are soaked. She has stopped masturbating him.

_ That's what I thought.

Theodore has made his point… She can't argue with him in this situation. He pulls back.

When she comes to her senses again, he gently slaps her hand away, making quick work of unzipping her skirt that falls to the floor. He then grabs her by the hips, approaching his mouth to her ear. He whispers a spell and in a snap of a finger, both their bottom clothes disappear and a condom appears on his penis. She has no time to be shocked since she’s being turned around to face the mirror again. She’s fully naked, her naked boyfriend also pressed on her back. His arms are wrapped around her middle. He’s peppering kisses on her shoulders, worshiping the gift offered to him. He reaches her neck, licking the parts where he left hickeys. She likes it but she’s got enough softness. She needs more…

Sarah bends forward, hands on the desk. She arches her back to rub her ass against his shaft.

_ Theo…

The man in question looks up at her through their reflection, a mischievous grin on his face.

_ Eager?

She nods, her juices already dripping from her cunt,

_ You promised me…

The sound of her pleading voice makes his member twitch against her beautiful ass cheeks. He doesn't answer. Instead, he grabs his member and aligns it with her entrance, coating it with her wetness. He pushes a few times to rub himself against her clitoris. She lets out low whimpers. Theodore is fighting the urge to fuck her stupid since they started making out, and now’s the time… Satisfied by her wanting pleas, he finally pushes inside of her, hands locked on her hips. Sarah lets out a shaky sigh of discomfort. He lets her get used to him before slowly pushing further until he’s fully inside.

_ I always keep my promises.

One hand grabs Sarah’s breast and fingers brush against her sweet spot. The remnants of pain are long forgotten. She moans in pleasure under his touch.

When Theodore feels her push against him, he takes it as permission to start thrusting in her. He starts slowly then picks up the pace.

Sarah’s head falls forward, breathing heavily, high-pitched moans leaving her lips.

Theodore can't take his eyes off of her, but there's a little detail bugging him. His hand leaves her breast to grab her chin, lifting her head up to the mirror.

_ Look at me.

He stares at her face. Her cheeks are flushed, mouth open, half-lidded eyes. Her breasts’ bouncing in rhythm with his thrusting. That’s definitely his favourite angle of hers.

_ Fuck, you’re hot.

Sarah can't help but moan louder at her boyfriend’s comments. She's not one to dirty talk, though being on the receiving end is so exciting to her.

Theodore keeps a steady rhythm, eyes focused on their reflection in the mirror. He blesses the day he decided to rearrange the furniture in his room.

_ You feel so good, baby... I promised to make you come. You want it?

It’s not even a question to Sarah. She pushes back harder, taking him in further. She whines in frustration. His sex feels good in hers but she needs more friction on other parts…

Theodore knows exactly what to do. His hand slides back to roll her nipple in between his fingers, his other hand rubbing circles on her clitoris.

His girlfriend’s breathing fastens, her moans louder. Theodore presses harder on her sweet sport, thrusting languidly inside of her. Her head falls back, eyes closed. For some funny reason, slow movements tend to make her go crazy. Frustration?

_ Fuck fuck fuck fuck… aah! Don't stop. Don't you dare stop!

Her shameless whimpering pleas make him lose his mind. He holds back from pounding into her. He wants to see her break before getting his way with her. The contractions of her walls around his member make low groans escape his mouth. He lets some of his animal instincts take over.

_ You’re a slut, you know that? You’re a filthy little slut, fucked stupid, thirsthy for my cock and desperate to come.

Just a second, his hand leaves her nipple to brush a strand of her hair away, licking the helix of her ear. Sarah shivers, responding to his words and action with a strangled moan.

Theodore tries again.

_ Slut…

His woman moans again…

The realisation makes a wicked grin grow at the corner of his mouth. He wasn't sure of the response she’d have to degradation. He’s glad he discovered a new kink of hers.

_ Aw, you like that? Bad words make you cry?

He presses harder on her clitoris.

_ FUCK-

Sarah cries out, her head tipping back on his shoulder. She can't stop whimpering, she's so close to her release… She concentrates on the sensations, clenching around his cock.

Theodore can't help but moan as loud as she does.

_ Keep clenching around me like that and you’ll make me come, baby.

His fingers play with her nipple, while his others rub against her sweet spot in the best unholy way. A few more strokes, and she finally comes around him, mouth agape, a final moan leaving her lips.

Theodore doesn't stop, he’s close and wants to come inside of her. Sarah’s overstimulated. Her legs shake uncontrollably, she whines under the overwhelming sensations. Theodore’s heart aches at her sobbing complaint…

_ Just a little more…for me...

He presses even harder on her clitoris, earning a whine coming deep from his girlfriend’s throat.

_ I know, I know, baby.

Her walls clench around his member yet again and she can't stop whimpering.

_ Just like that-

The tightness around him and the sounds she's making are what get him to his breaking point… One more thrust and he’s coming in a shaky groan, emptying himself in the protection. His head jerks back before falling forward in exhaustion.

When he looks back at her, he notices a few tears running down her cheeks. He instantly feels bad, his high fading…

His right arm wraps around her middle, hand caressing her side. He rests his chin on her shoulder, steadying his breathing. He gently kisses her shoulder, eyes narrowed with concern.

_ You’re okay?

Sarah can only nod, not enough strength to speak.

Theodore wastes no time, immediately lifting her from the floor, bridal style. She instinctively crosses her wrists behind his neck, suddenly feeling sleepy.

He walks them to the shower, putting her down on the tiling, leaning against the cold wall. The fresh sensation calms her.

Theodore starts the water, which wipes away her remaining tears. He pulls her in a tight embrace, gently caressing her back. He feels her relax in his hold, reassuring the voices in his head.

_ I…

Sarah looks up, her gaze is far from hurt or accusation. She seems at peace, enjoying the feeling of her man's skin against hers. She runs a finger on his chest, playing with the drops of water running down his stomach.

_ I don't really think you’re a slut.

The precision he felt the need to add makes her giggle. She wraps her hands around his neck, pulling him in a tender kiss.

_ I know.

She smiles bright at him, resting her head on his chest, eyes closed, listening to his heartbeat.

It’s all the reassurance Theodore needs. He hugs her tighter, planting a kiss on her forehead. He has no idea how he managed to get her in his life. He can never be sure if he deserves to be with her, but he’ll do everything and anything in his power to make her happy.

He’s never letting her go. That’s lucky. She has no intention of ever leaving.

The End.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi,

Today's July the 17th and it's my 25th birthday!

I wanted to write a little idea I had and it ended up being a 3k long story... Anyway 🙄

Honestly, I didn't edited much and it might be full of mistakes weather it's grammar or vocabulary or whatever... BUT, I just wanted to damn post. x)

I hope you enjoyed it. ~

Feel free to drop likes and comments ~

Also, if you have requests... 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Harry Potter Masterlist

[lovingxe]

im working on a fic thing of like my previous years at hogwarts leading up to my 7th (which is whn i shift in) and its completely based on my dr and will be oc bc its me duh but im totally interested if anyone is into me posting it somewhere (probably not here bc id hate to find oc x character on tumblr) but i might post it to AO3 or wattpad if anyone is interested in reading it 🫶🏻

[bab3tte]

Tempus

𓆩II𓆪

Part 𓆩I𓆪

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x OC

Summary: In a wizarding world, it is a rare event when a witch is born with the ability to manipulate time. These witches are known as Tempuses. The last known Tempuse was born in the 16th century, but due to her powers, the Ministry of Magic became scared and imprisoned her in Azkaban. After her release from Azkaban, she experienced much pain and suffering. Out of fear, they burned her alive. one thing is certain: when one Tempuse is killed, another will be born.

Warnings: None

Wattpad: Bab3tty

Pattern Banner from: @cafekitsune

The first few days are always weird, but trust me, it can not be weirder than mine. First, I bumped into a group of friends, accidentally poured pumpkin juice on Blaise, and then stairs took me somewhere else. Finally, the Potions class. I have to say this class is very gloomy, I kind of like it. It has greenish stone walls. Few desks filled with potion equipment. Walls have the most commonly used ingredients overall it's beautiful. I was observing a room when suddenly the door opened.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class as such I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle sense and exact art that potion-making is" To be honest I thought that was quite obvious since the subject is called potion. When Elizabeth took out her parchment and started looking at stuff around Snapes mind suddenly went elsewhere.

The year 1971

Lily was looking around the classroom, smiling at everything that made her fascinated. She nudged "Look at that flower. It's beautiful" you could sat that Lily was very observant cause that jar was sitting behind a big cauldron "that's asphodel, it is a type of lily but has a bad meaning" Who would've thought Severus snape was interested in such flowers. "it's still beautiful".

End of flashback

Snape definitely does not like my brother. The way he looks at him makes it quite obvious. As expected, Harry already got in trouble.

"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" asphodel sounds... Oh wait it's a type of lily, and it's associated with death and graves. That behaviour is pure evil. How dare he remind us of our dead mother?

"Respectfully professor, I don't think it is right to ask first-year student questions which you know he won't be able to answer"

"And why is that Miss L'orange?"

"Because he grew up without magic, Plus that potion is an advanced one and Is not taught until the sixth year"

"Looks like we got miss confidence here, 5 points to Slytherin for your bold actions, now back to our first lesson"

Months have passed since I stepped foot into Hogwarts, and I have to say that Hogwarts is very pretty during every hour of every day.

"Hey, L'orange or Potter, which one do you rather?" Turning around, I saw the same blond boy the one that was in Olivanders.

"Whatever you rather, we've met before haven't we?" he is very familiar looking but I don't know why

"Yes back in Olivanders. My name is Draco, Draco Malfoy."

"Elizabeth L'orange but you already know it"

"Malfoy! Are you coming?" snape was calling him from the classroom

"I got to go, private lessons, since I am so good in potions I study many advanced things" With that Draco walked off, is this boy mental? When I walked into the great hall Harry, Hermione and Ron were waving at me so I sat at Gryffindor's table.

"We need your help, Eli," Harry said in a confused voice

"So Eli I heard you are pretty good at history of magic we need help, have you heard anything about philosopher's stone?"

"No that kind of topic is not in Hogwart's normal library, you have to look through the restricted section, now I have to go back to my table I promised to meet Pansy, see you later?" I met Pansy on the first day, turns out we are roommates, all other dorms were full except ours, and there are only us, while in other dorms there are four people so I consider myself pretty lucky. After dinner, I was wandering around in the dungeons when I heard some weird sounds "White, Time, change, prove" It was like a ghost was speaking, and when I followed the sound I came to a wall. Seriously? A wall. Looking around a bit on one brick I can see there is something white "Lumos"

ᚾ . . . ᛈ . . . ᛞ . . .

"no, no, no don't disappear, where is this parchment" I started scribbling what I saw onto a parchment, if anyone walked by they would think that I was crazy. Looking at them I recognized them as ancient runes, but slowly they disappeared and just as I was about to touch the wall voice called me

"L'orange what are you doing out of the dorm" Great timing Malfoy.

"I was going to a common room" I started walking while eyeing the wall "By the way Malfoy, you shouldn't point out one's mistake while you are doing the same thing, good night". Moron Is probably thinking no one is allowed to give him any kind of insult. As soon as I walked into the dorm I went towards Pansy

"do you know anything about runes?"

"no, why?"

"oh I was just interested I like the thought of knowing ancient runes"

"Oh I don't know a lot but I know most of the books that have full information are in the restricted section" I desperately need to speak with Harry, we could go into the restricted section together he will get his job done I will get mine.

"thank you goodnight pansy" Slytherin dorms are very pretty in calm colours, only sound you can hear is of the lake it is especially nice when it rains droplets going into the lake and hearing those sounds while fire cracking is quite nice, helps me get a good sleep.

Morning, at the dinner hall

"Harry! Are you guys staying over during Christmas break?" I said as I sat around the trio, making my sandwich.

"Only me and Ron are staying" Harry said with a sad face.

"Okay I have an idea. While Hermione is at home, we can go into the restricted section, I need the ancient Runes book, and then I will help you find stuff about philosopher's st Deal?"

"Deal. "three of them said at the same time. Okay, Christmas is in 15 days, so that gives me time to do my Hogwarts assignments these days, so I will be completely free during Christmas break. Elizabeth turned out to be an amazing student, outstanding everyone in almost all subjects, which made Hermione quite annoyed. As professors said, she had quite a passion for a potions DADA and the history of magic. So good that she also went to private lessons, The only one who refused it was Snape, saying that they should not make her think like she is some kind of good wizard as he said to himself "Maybe Lily gave her some talents but no daughter of potter would be good enough in potions". As days passed, she became better and better, dealing with every challenge Snape would give her.

Finally, the day Elizabeth was desperately waiting for came 25th December. She was alone at her dorm since Pansy went back to her home, alongside her friend group. When she woke up she found a few presents that surprised her as she looked through the present she found a few tags, "from Molly – it was a knitted sweater, from Pansy, I know this is your favourite flower, and also peace of your mother can be with you – a necklace of lily of the valley, from harry and ron, - sweets and chocolates From hermione- A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot, exclusive version"

she smiled sweetly at the present before running off to breakfast.

"So tonight we will meet up near the library, I will bring my invisibility clock, and we will find books and leave" Harry said as Ron nodded his head.

"invisibility what?"

"oh I got it this morning. The note did not say who it was from, but I know it belonged to our dad" My dad is cool.

"I will go to Hagrid's hut to pass the time" It was snowing outside, and I couldn't believe how beautiful Hogwarts can be in every season "Hagrid!"

"ei hello Eli" Hagrid's hut was very warm on this chilly day "I just baked e' " they taste real badly, but I have to eat it

"thanks hagrid, can I ask you something?" As soon as I said that, Hagrid's face became stressed. "is there a possibility you know anything about runes appearing on the walls of Hogwarts?" hagrid turned around.

"um, er, no... er... I don't think so" he stated while patting his dog. "Hagrid please I need to know it..." Plus, I have some good pumpkin seeds to gift you"

"er... okay... okay... there was a time when Tempuses were walking around Hogwarts, it was their sign, their language of contact with each other, usually tempus ghosts contacting one and... that's all"

"what's a tempus?

"I can't tell ya a lot, Eli. Found that out yourself "I gave him his pumpkin seed and made a mental note to find information about tempuses in the restricted section.

"thanks hagrid" We spent a few hours talking as usual he was telling me about dragons and animals in the forbidden forest. The time finally came.

"Harry, Ron, where are you" I whispered

"over here" they were under an invisibility cloak... wow that's cool, I went under It, oh god, I can't wait to get this thing off me. "here we are" looking around sections "A, B, C, D, E.... R here it is "Runes and their meaning" and I need T... T.... T... "how to find tempuses, what are they and how to deal with them" Looking through the pages, I finally found my answers

"ᚾ - necessity, the rune of fate, symbolizes need, patience, and determination at the same time. You have a pressing task ahead of you... ᛈ -  Perthro is considered very mysterious, The rune says that something new will come into being...ᛞ - The process of concept becoming realized, paradoxical truth" Okay I guess this will make more sense after I read about tempuses...

"Eli quick someone is coming" I did not have any choice so I stole a book about Tempuses and ran off with them, I accidentally took a different path, but I got to the dorm safety. Now I finally have time to uncover the truth.

© bab3tte 2023

[leviosatothestars]

I’m trying to not rush into posting things related to my fanfic, but sometimes I’ll just lay down and listen to one of my like 20+ playlists I’ve created for this fanfic and then my mind just starts working on where I had last left off in my writing.

I’m currently listening to a playlist I’ve created inspired by one of the ships and like it’s so angsty I just refuse to be an emotionally healthy bitch 😬👍.

Also, for the most part the fanfic is canon compliant (aside from a couple things), and at least four of the Slytherin boys are in it, as well as Pansy, but Draco is very much his canon self (i.e. a dickhead) through most of it. Sense we don’t know much of how Theo is supposed to be canonically, I kind of went with my own interpretation of him using canon information and some common headcanons. I won’t spoil what other Slytherin boys play a role, but I will leave it at this- there’s other Slytherin’s from the Golden Trio Era in my fanfiction and it might make you dislike one even more.

[incorrectquotesharrypotterv]

Theo: I cut my finger

Y/n: I can kiss it, so it'll get better

Theo: That works?

Y/n: Yeah, my mum used to do it when I was little

*later*

Theo: I need you to punch me in the mouth

Draco: Fucking finally

[slytherinslut0]

tom riddle. | this is your punishment

PAIRING: tom riddle x fem!reader

SUMMARY: prefect tom riddle catches you breaking the rules again, and this time decides to provide a different type of punishment he’s certain you won’t soon forget.

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

TAGS: 18+, SMUT MDNI, dubcon (entirely consensual), dom!tom, brat!reader, BDSM (light), intense humiliation kink, sexual punishment/ forced orgasm, inappropriate use of magic/spells, clit-stim orgasm, begging.

You had thirty minutes.

Thirty minutes to dance with disaster. Thirty minutes to dodge destruction. Thirty minutes to descend into the depths of the library, infiltrate the restricted section, slip the book on occlumency you clandestinely borrowed back into its rightful place, and ascend back to your dormitory before the harbinger of your nightmares—Head Prefect Tom Riddle—emerges from the prefects' bathroom and winds his way back down to the dungeons.

Thirty minutes felt like both an eternity and a heartbeat. The weight of impending doom pressing down on your chest as you crept through the darkened corridors, each shadow a lurking menace, each creak of the ancient floorboards a deafening scream that could betray your presence.

And though the stakes were disastrously high, you weren't entirely worried; you knew Tom Riddle's schedule as intimately as the lines on your palm, and he was nothing if not a creature of habit. But of course, there was always the chance. The slim, terrifying possibility that he might deviate from his usual routine. And being caught by him was the absolute last thing you needed right now.

Every second felt like a blade poised above your head, ready to drop at the slightest misstep. It was no secret that Tom Riddle had it out for you. By now, it was practically etched into the very stones of Hogwarts, a fact as immutable as gravity. Everywhere you went, every step you took, he was always there—watching, waiting, eager to catch you in some transgression.

The relentless scrutiny was exhausting. The number of detentions you'd served was staggering, the punishments you'd endured endless. Not to mention the droning, entirely condescending lectures and disappointed yet gleeful stares he always made sure to give you as he personally hauled you to Dumbledores office.

It was all bullshit, and certainly had nothing to do with your frequent rule-breaking or constant sneaking around. No, of course not. You most definitely never toed the line. You were as innocent as they come. As pure as the driven snow. In your mind it all boiled down to the fact that Tom Riddle had it out for you, plain and fucking simple. A personal vendetta written into the fabrication of his identity.

Because even if he did. Even if he did somehow manage to track you and uncover your clandestine activities by just being the perceptive cunning bastard that he is, there are certain things that simply defy logic. Some occurrences that just don't add up.

There are just some instances that can't be explained, save for the simplest conclusion: Tom Riddle has been inside your mind for months.

And that was precisely why you sought out the book on Occlumency—you needed it. Needed to learn how to block Tom out because if he wanted to play mind games, you were determined to play better. You were determined to keep up.

You knew Tom took pleasure in continually getting one step ahead of you, and as much as it utterly ticked you off—perhaps a twisted part of you enjoyed being caught by him—savoured the banter you shared including his threats that next time he'd take matters into his own hands, since even Dumbledore was growing tired of your antics. Perhaps you revelled in provoking him, in defying him like no other student dared, relishing the thrill of the chase.

Perhaps you simply loved to hate him. Because he was always so goddamn good at everything, always in control. It was maddening, intoxicating, and you couldn't deny the rush it gave you. His perfection was a thorn in your side, and yet, you craved it, sought it out like a moth to a flame, even if you'd never admit it.

Not to yourself, and most definitely not to him.

As the night droned on, you managed to make it to the library unscathed, slipping into the restricted section unseen. Everything was going according to plan, not a soul around to forsake you. And yet, just as you slipped the book back onto its origin shelf, you heard a distant yet distinct voice, accompanied by the determined clacking of perfectly polished dress shoes.

"—ah, yes. I believe I informed him that I would have an answer by tomorrow evening."

That voice. You could never fucking mistake it.

"—well, yes, Mr.Riddle—but he said—"

"No matter." The footsteps ceased. "You'll both await my determination until tomorrow's eve. Continue pressing and I will see to make you wait two more."

The bile rose in your throat, threatening to spill over onto the floor beneath you. His arrogance had always been a towering monument, casting shadows that seemed to suffocate all reason. Sure, he was the brightest star in the firmament, undeniably brilliant with features rivaling the gods themselves—chiseled jawline, captivating dark eyes—practically born to bask in his own glory.

Yet, for all his outward perfection, his self-assurance bordered on the verge of the grotesque.

"—yes, o-of course, Mr. Riddle..." you stifled a distasteful scoff. You weren't sure how that individual was even standing with such lack of spine. "—t-thank you, sir."

You didn't stick around to hear a response or the lack thereof. The voices were far enough to keep you breathing but close enough to damn near make you faint because you knew he was most likely just outside the iron gates. You couldn't afford to ponder the improbability of his presence or the surrealness of your predicament. You had to move—deeper, further out of sight.

Which was going perfectly well until you rounded a corner with a little too much intensity and collided directly into a small round table. The sharp screech of wood against wood cutting through the thick silence like a blade, echoing ominously in the vast, dim library. Panic seized you, every nerve electrified, as if the table's cry had been your own.

And it was roughly ten devastating seconds after this that you heard the creak of the iron gates opening behind you, and those same polished footsteps drawing forward with haste.

Fucking hell.

You'd spent enough time in the Forbidden Forest to know how to keep your calm, to know how to effectively avoid being noticed—how to silence your footsteps and slip around obstacles without leaving a trace, how to mask your scent with earth and leaves, how to blend into the shadows to avoid becoming prey to the creatures that lurk in the depths. Yet, the only predator you'd never been able to successfully evade was the one you were currently running from.

Tom Marvolo Riddle.

A shadow that clung to you, a hunter whose senses were always sharper, whose instincts were always keener. No matter how well you hid, he always seemed to find you, as if he could sense the very beat of your heart.

Tonight—to your naive surprise, was no different.

"Think you can hide from me, do you?" Tom's voice slithered through the narrow gap between the shelves, smooth and dark as midnight. "Not quite stealthy enough, I'm afraid."

You pressed your back against the cold wood, trying to steady your breathing, but his words seemed to wrap around your throat, squeezing the air out of your lungs and replacing it with something dizzying.

"Why don't you come out, little snake?" He purred, his footsteps drawing closer, each one a death knell. "We both know how this game ends."

Little snake. Two words that rooted you to the spot. It was impossible, inconceivable that he could know it was you. Yet the nickname, the venomous familiarity of it, left no room for doubt.

You slipped around the corner, the two of you making calculated moves like chess pieces. Your board was one of evasion, his one of domination. The gates were in clear view now as you paused to determine his position, silently mapping the space between here and there, certain that if you ran fast enough you could make it—if you moved quietly enough he wouldn't know which direction you were heading.

"You're only making this worse for yourself, darling." Arrogance so thick you weren't sure how he wasn't choking on it. And as much as you detested it, something about it sparked heat between your thighs. "You know I always win."

With the desperation of a cornered, wounded animal, you decided you were done playing and began making a silent yet brisk path toward the gates. You knew you could get about three shelves deep before you needed to take cover again. The silence was deafening, urging you to move faster.

And just as you were about to reach your next hiding spot, just about to duck back in between the shelves, a sudden sensation of pressure coiled around your ankle, cementing you to the spot.

"What the f-"

It was as if the very air had turned to iron, suffocating you with its weight. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared down, disbelief flooding your senses. The once innocuous carpet beneath your feet now glowed with enchantment, its fibres twisting and contorting, snaking around your ankles and climbing steadily up your calves.

"There she is." It was an echo from behind you, deep vocal inflection choking you with its pride. "Always so deliciously predictable.”

The fibres wound tightly around your upper calves, constricting tighter against your leggings as you squirmed, struggling to free yourself. Tom appeared beside you with a leisurely saunter, his smirk so smug it seemed almost tangible.

Your frustration bubbled over into a groan of disbelief. "You charmed the fucking carpet?"

"Of course," Tom replied. "Why do things the hard way when magic can do it for you?" He stepped closer, his eyes roaming over you, drinking in your entirety, running the tip of his wand up your arm. "You should know, little snake, I always find a way to catch my prey."

You watched as two dark eyes dipped low, lingering over the thickness of your thighs, fighting against the tendrils of the enchanted carpet that had now crawled tightly around them. You certainly felt like captured prey, tangled in a web of his making, awaiting his next move—and he certainly didn't miss how tantalizingly prepared for him you were, like a gift waiting to be unravelled.

"Impressive, Riddle—you've really outdone yourself this time," you spat the words through clenched teeth, fighting the urge to smack his wand away, battling the unwanted heat pooling in your core. It was the way he was looking at you. The way you wanted him to keep doing it. "Guess you can add 'carpet tamer' to your long list of accolades now, huh?"

Tom huffed, a glint of amusement dancing in his dark eyes as he forced them up to meet yours. The corners of his lips curled upward in a smirk, every pore radiating control. He looked at you as though you were a puzzle he had already solved, a game he had already won.

"Now now, darling, no need to be so dramatic." His free hand reached up and grasped your jaw, kinking your neck back as he stepped closer to you. "Though, I think 'little fucking brat tamer' might be the more notable achievement to add to the list."

Your stomach leapt, your teeth sinking into your tongue for a moment as you fought to gather your sanity. Your defiance was draining like sand in an hourglass.

"Hm." You huffed, the grip on your jaw firm as steel. "Quite the mouthful."

"So I've been told," he shot back, his eyes glinting like shards of glass under the dim light. "You'd know all about mouthfuls, wouldn't you?"

"You fucking wish." You hoped he did.

His smirk deepened, his fingers digging into your skin like iron claws. You could tell he was amused by you, as though you'd just delivered the punchline of the century, as though you were the world's most revered stand-up comedian. It was maddeningly infuriating and dangerously captivating all at once.

"Still wielding that weapon of a tongue, even when you've so clearly lost." He remarked with a click of his own tongue, releasing his grip on your jaw. Stepping back, his eyes devoured the sight of his spell tangled around your thighs. You caught the tension in his jaw before his eyes snapped back to yours. "Tell me, little snake, do you know why I admire this spell so much?"

Your gaze remained fixed on him, anticipation crawling over your skin like a colony of ants as he scrutinized you. You offer him a shake of your head, a scowl etched deep on your features. "Can't read your mind, Riddle. Not everyone is a skilled Legilimens like yourself."

Tom's chuckle rang out, swallowed by the thick tension in the air, suffusing the oxygen you desperately tried to gulp down. He moved to circle you, and you felt his presence looming behind you, his body brushing against yours like a whisper in the wind. One hand found your hip, however softly, as though he was reluctant to touch you.

"It's a very versatile spell, darling," he dismissed your sass, his voice stripped of all emotion as his lips hovered closer to your ear. "The best part being...I know exactly how to manipulate it to get you to listen."

Words withered on your tongue, attitude wilting in your lungs, and oxygen fleeing from your veins—never to return. Tom's looming presence behind you was enough to make your chest constrict, but his words—his words were a different beast altogether. In the countless times he's caught you, never once did you imagine yourself here, like this, with him.

And never once did you imagine yourself enjoying it this fucking much.

"One might describe it as remarkably adaptable, catering to a multitude of desires..." his hand floated away from your hip, his fingers subtly dancing—the coils responding to his ministrations and slithering higher up your thighs. "And you, little brat, have a plethora of desires at this moment, do you not?"

Your jaw nearly smacked the floor as you watched him command the spell without the aid of his wand. You felt your stomach twist into an iron knot, something heating your blood to flame. Perhaps you underestimated him, perhaps you-

"F-fuck-" you gasped as the charmed fibres slithered between your thighs, coiling higher and higher, wrapping around your waist and ensnaring your arms at your sides. The pressure on your cunt sent your head reeling, your entire body quivering. "Tom...what..."

You know Tom is just beaming with satisfaction, the tremor in your voice eliciting a low growl from deep within him as his hold on your hip resumes, his lips teasing the sensitive skin behind your ear.

"Speak up, little doll, articulate your thoughts," he murmured, his words dripping with cunning like poison. "I know you possess an abundance of them."

You suppress a groan, squirming in a futile attempt to free your wrists, to move against the relentless hold. The heat of Tom's presence behind you has your senses in a frenzy. Your head spinning, your body silently yearning for more. You despise how much you're enjoying this, whatever this even is.

You whimper, lids fluttering. "This...this isn't fair..."

"Neither is disobeying the rules every fucking chance you get—but here we are," his hand brushed against your thigh, fingertips barely grazing, his voice drifting further from your ear. "You should understand, this is all your own doing...the charm merely responds to your desires, adapting to fulfill them.”

That insufferable bastard. The list of descriptors you'd use to paint his portrait would stretch longer than the very library you're standing in, and then some. Every time you think you've unraveled his mysteries, he unveils another layer that exposes just how brilliantly twisted he truly is. How charming. How intoxicating.

You loathe him, relish in despising every fiber of his being. Yet you can't deny the fact that he outmaneuvered you, in the most tantalizing manner imaginable.

But still, you attempt to deny it. "That's...that's not..."

He muses. "Isn't it?"

Tom withdraws his hand from your thigh, and almost immediately, you ache for its return, the absence of his touch leaving you yearning. Caught off guard by the tendrils of the charm exerting pressure against your core, teasing over your clit, you squeeze your eyes shut, teeth sinking into your lip to stifle any sounds.

"It appears you have a penchant for challenging me..." his voice is a certain murmur. "It seems the charm knows precisely why.”

All the smugness of a deity himself, a walking, talking colossus among mere mortals. As inevitable as the sunrise each morning. It made you want to bare your teeth at him, but instead, all you could manage was a groan, struggling against the pleasure his charm inflicted upon you.

"I'm not quite certain what you would deem a fitting punishment..." he continues, voice as deep as the depths of your desire. As dark as an all encompassing black hole. "—given the countless ones you've endured in the past months, which have clearly taught you nothing."

You groan again, your head bowing as you gaze down at the tendrils of the enchantment, ensnaring you in the clutches of a man with teeth of diamonds, fingers like razor-sharp claws. It'd been a relentless dance of dominance between you for years, a battle of wills that always seems to end in his favor.

You despise how he effortlessly wields his power over you. How he has so easily read between the lines of your story—knowing precisely the effect he has on your body, knowing exactly what you crave.

You fight back a moan. "Mmmff—fuck..you..."

Tom maneuvers his mouth to your ear, his presence pressing against you from behind, the ghost of his breath caresses your skin as he whispers;

"You wish you could."

Beautiful, insufferable bastard.

"Fuck," you huff through gritted teeth, sweat gathering behind your neck, fingernails biting into your palms as you clench your fists, still battling against the overwhelming pleasure. "Get out of my head.."

You feel a low chuckle resonate against your back, its vibrations stirring something primal within you, his fingers grazing against your side.

"Do you truly believe this is mere manipulation, little snake?" Tom's touch begins to ascend, feather-light and elusive, barely registering against your clothes as he presses closer behind you. "I am intimately acquainted with your desires, darling. I've been privy to them for months." You can almost taste the smugness in his voice. "The truth is fairly simple—you crave me, and you despise yourself for it."

Tom takes a deliberate step back, circling around to stand before you, his gaze sweeping over your disheveled form. Your breath comes in rapid gasps, your skin flushed with desire, and you find yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him. You yearn for more of him, yet you resist acknowledging it, even to yourself.

It's as though he can see your thoughts, his eyes darkening as he drinks you in. "You'd go to any lengths to avoid admitting it, wouldn't you?"

"Gods—" he's right, and you hate him for it. “Mmmf.”

Tom hums softly, his lips barely suppressing a smirk as he steps closer to you. He reaches up, his fingertips brushing against your skin as he tilts your chin, compelling you to meet his gaze.

"How about we try a simple question?" His dark eyes bore into yours, their depths ablaze with a devilish glint. "Do you wish it to stop?"

You're rendered speechless. The egotistic side of you wants you to say yes—while the other, larger part is consumed with an insatiable hunger for more, for him. The charm swirls over your clit, applying increased pressure against your leggings, causing you to bite down on your bottom lip again to stifle a desperate moan. You couldn't answer him if you tried.

Tom's eyes roam over your face, not willing to miss a thing. "Use your words...tell me what you need..."

The sensation against your clit intensifies further, as if dancing to the rhythm of his words. You can feel his gaze boring into you as the heat between your thighs surges, and you realize you're on the brink of climax. And Tom knows it.

"Fuck..." your hips twitch involuntarily—torn between craving more friction and fleeing from it—your mind a whirlwind of uncertainty. Tom brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, his gaze fixed on his own movements, and you feel yourself unraveling, succumbing to the scorching intensity of his eyes—two dark pools of permanent ink. "Tom...please..."

His grip tightens. His jaw clenches. "Say it."

Shame courses through your veins, searing your skin like molten lava, the prickling sensation drowning you. You're on the verge of climaxing from an enchanted carpet, a manifestation of his spell, and the humiliation threatens to consume you.

"I need you-" you gasp, the words tumbling from your lips in a pitiful plea, desperation sinking its claws into your soul. So close...too close. "Please—please, I—I don't want to cum from this—I..."

Oh, but you do. You most certainly fucking do though the mere thought of admitting it feels like a dagger twisting in your gut. Tom's eyes glint with amusement, his head cocked slightly as he regards you with a faux expression of pity, as artificial as the plastic plants in the common room.

"I've truly made a mess of you, haven't I?" His hand glides down from your face, tracing a path along your neck, lightly grazing over your collarbone. "Tell me what you want from me."

Gods, you ache to strike him—yet crave to kiss him and cry out his name with equal fervour. Your defiance lies shattered, a broken relic at your feet.

You peer up at him, pleading. "Please, Tom, please touch me—I need you..."

A smirk toys at his lips, his fingers slipping under your jaw once more to hold you steady as he leans in closer.

"Touch you?" His voice is like a loaded gun, his fingers the bullets—intent cocked and ready to annihilate, but instead he taunts you, keeps you on edge, pressing the barrel against your temple just to see the look in your eyes. "You want me, the man you so madly fucking detest, to touch you."

You lack the strength to command him to go to hell, but oh, how you wish you did. Just to witness his reaction, to see what he’d do next. Despite his appalling self-assurance, you can see behind the mask—see how he is genuinely taken aback by your submission, as though he never expected you to surrender, to confess your desire for him.

"Tom, please..." you beg, trembling with anticipation, your impending climax a rapidly swelling tide. "I want you...I want you to make me cum—you-you win."

Tom pulls back from your ear to regard you, his gaze fully focused this time. He takes in the sight of you—trembling, panting, wide-eyed before him—his expression conveying complete contentment in simply observing you as you struggle to persuade him to touch you.

That familiar taunting grin lingers upon his lips, uncontainable, and you know he's relishing this moment far too much.

"I know," he says softly, his thumb tracing your jawline as his hand falls to your neck. "I always do, don't I, little doll..."

His voice drifts over you like smoke, thick and intoxicating, wrapping around you in a dizzying embrace. The intensity of the charm wavers slightly, granting you a momentary reprieve to catch your breath as Tom leans in, so close that you can feel his exhales caressing your lips. Your head spins, every sense overwhelmed by his presence.

"But you deserve this—" he continues, his voice a rumble like thunder through your veins. "—you deserve to be humiliated like this, to break for me without my hands ever touching you." His mouth hovers just millimeters from yours, taunting you with its nearness. "This is your punishment, little doll...and you're going to take it."

The pleasure between your thighs swells once more as the charm resumes its sinuous movements and you can't suppress the moan that escapes your lips, mingling with the groan of utter frustration. All you can do is stare at him.

Tom hums, amused. "Because you revel in it, don't you? Being a little disobedient brat..."

Your eyes glaze over, your pulse soaring as Tom's breath once again brushes against your parted lips. The ache for him is almost unbearable, as if he's injected something into your veins, rendering you unable to function without him. It's maddening, in the most exquisite way imaginable.

"You're-ohh-fuck.." your voice comes out as a moan, low and breathy, the words trailing off as the charm adds pressure to your clit, stars dancing at the edges of your vision. "Gods..."

"There we go, just as I like you,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing over your jaw. "Unable to unleash that pretty little mouth. Perfectly shattered for me."

You clench around nothing, yearning to scoff. "Mmmf—never..."

Tom chuckles at your feeble attempt at defiance, though the sound carries a hollow, half-hearted quality. You both know you've passed the point of return. His fingers trace along the edge of your jaw, until his palm cradles your face, his thumb brushing gently across your lips.

"Is that so?" He murmurs softly, his dark eyes locked onto yours. "Well then, go ahead...let that pretty mouth run wild...prove that your defiance is more than just an act..."

The way he wields his power has you teetering on the brink of madness, and you despise the fact that you've revelled in every torturous moment of it. You long to snap back, to wield your tongue, to curse him—anything to grasp onto even a shred of control. But every fucking word is a struggle, every moment not focused on your breathing is an achievement.

You squeeze your eyes shut, channeling all the energy you have left. "You...you're such an...arrogant—mmf—I...I hate you..."

"Mhm. You hate me." He cooes. "And yet, here you are..." his voice is as soft as feathers, as warm as the morning sun, the unmistakable taunt laced within. His thumb presses against your bottom lip, slipping between your teeth. "...falling apart for a mere spell, begging for me, for my touch..."

You feel Tom's thumb pressing against your tongue as you whimper. You attempt to speak, to convey something, but instead, you find yourself instinctively sucking lightly against his thumb in response.

"Mm." Tom's brow lifts slightly, amusement dancing in his eyes. He seems pleased with your reaction. "A much better use for that mouth."

You're beyond caring about the way he's taunting you, how he's systematically humiliated and debased you, stripping away every ounce of defiance without ever even touching your skin. Tremors wrack your body from the overwhelming sensations, rendering coherent thought nearly impossible.

Your head lolls to the side, constrained by his hand, as waves of pleasure crash over you, your climax approaching rapidly and dangerously.

"Fuck-I'm..." you manage to squeak, his thumb still nestled in your mouth. "Mmmf-"

Tom's eyes darken with satisfaction as he watches you unravel, his thumb pressing deeper into your mouth, a silent command for you to keep sucking. The enchantment continues its relentless assault—tightening around you, swirling over your clit and amplifying the pleasure until it's almost unbearable.

"Go on," he murmurs, his voice a blend of silk and steel. "Let go for me. Show me just how much you need this."

Your body trembles violently, your muscles tensing as the climax rips through you. You can't hold back the moan that escapes around his thumb, your entire being consumed by the intensity of the release that you've desperately fought off for so long. Tom's grip on your jaw tightens, keeping you in place, ensuring you can't escape the exquisite torment he's orchestrated.

"There it is," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "Perfectly broken, just for me."

Your eyes are squeezed shut so tightly it's almost painful, his thumb buried in your mouth muffling any sounds of pleasure that threaten to escape. The evidence of your desire pools between your thighs, your embarrassment stripping you raw as you slowly begin to return to reality, the spell gradually losing its grip around you.

You struggle to find your breath, your thoughts, your sanity, but Tom doesn't grant you much reprieve before he's tugging your head back towards his, forcing you to focus on him.

"You should see yourself." He withdraws his thumb from your mouth, trailing the remnants of saliva over your cheek as he assesses you. "You're a vision."

You try to summon the strength to argue, to reclaim some semblance of defiance, but the attempt dies in your throat, unable to comprehend the fact that those words sounded like a fucking compliment. Your body is trembling with the aftershocks of your climax, and you can only manage a soft whimper. He looks at you as if you are his masterpiece, perfectly crafted and beautifully ruined.

"Remember this, little snake," he whispers, his breath ghosting over your lips. "Remember how easily I can break you. How much you crave it."

You exhale slowly as you feel the charm dissipate, the carpet settling back into its rightful place at your feet. Tom's hand falls away from your face, but the tension between you remains palpable, neither of you daring to make a move.

"And as for the book," he adds, his eyes flashing to the bookshelf behind you, the one home to the Occlumency text you borrowed. "You may want to keep it. You're not nearly as skilled as you think you are."

And with that, he smooths out his uniform and strides past you without a second glance.

thank you to my babies @doremimosasol and @pizzaapeteer for proofreading this. means the world to me🖤

[cruxxio]

How The Slytherin Boys Hold Your Hand

(don't ask why theo's ring is in a different finger and how many rings in mattheo's finger during yk)

[slytherinsprincesss]

Sebastian: Hey MC, are you busy Saturday around 3?

MC: No? Why?

Sebastian: What about you Ominis? Are you busy Saturday at 3?

Ominis: No Sebastian, I’m not.

Sebastian: Perfect, because I am! You two go ahead to get butterbeer without me. Enjoy your date ;)

MC: did he just-

Ominis: yes, he did just set us up.

**I feel like Sebastian would be a great wingman to Ominis (when he really tries)**

[houseofceline]

My Pretty Girl - T.N.

Foreign Touches and Breakfast in Bed

Pairing: Ravenclaw and sort of ditzy but talented Reader x Slytherin notorious playboy Theodore Nott

Warnings: Asshole Theo?

Summary: You wish you never woke up.

Author's Note: Hey guys! It's been a while, sorry for the wait but here it is!

< 6

__________________

“How much did you even drink last night?” Cho cringed holding your hair back as another round of vomit spewed out of you and into the toilet. You could feel your head pounding as you sat on the bathroom floor trying to calm yourself down. Waking up to a hangover and your period may be the worst combination known to man, or really women. Thankfully there were no classes today. 

“Too much,” you breathed in and out, making sure there was nothing else coming up. 

“Come on, we need to go to breakfast, you need to eat something.” Cho tried helping you up as you gripped onto the sink for support. 

You were not ready to go out in public like this. Bed hair, snippets of last night makeup look in the form of smothered mascara on your cheek, and a million knives stabbing your uterus. Definitely not a pretty sight. Plus, you did not want to see any of the boys after last night incase of something embarrassing you might’ve done while out of it. 

“I don’t wanna go,” you groaned as you flopped on your bed and curled up into a fetal position. 

“You have to eat something Y/n,” Cho spoke softly as she ran her fingers through your hair, trying to flatten it. 

“I’ll eat later.” You grumbled closing your eyes, menstruation already tiring you out. 

“I’ll be back,” Cho said as she left the room, but you were too tired to say anything as you slipped away to dreamland.

___________________

A foreign touch on his chest causes Theo to stir awake in confusion. 

What the hell.

He blinked a few times, allowing his vision to clear up.

Seeing the fake blonde from last night he groaned. 

“Why are you still here?” He mumbled, swatting her hand away from him as he scooted further away from her. 

“What do you mean baby? We don’t have classes today silly,” Hannah replied as she sat up, still nude from late night activities. 

“Right, so the last thing I want on a free day is to see your face. Get out.” Theo mumbled hoping she’d leave so he could sleep so more.

“Theo baby, don’t be so mean,” she spoke, reaching out for him again causing Theo to sit up in a huff. 

“You know the deal, you were supposed to be out before I even woke up,” he ignored the nasty feeling of her calling him cringey pet names. 

“Theo we don’t have to be like this.”

“My name is Theodore,” he stated as he got up and got dressed. 

He sighed as he picked up her clothing items off the floor and threw them at her. 

“I’m leaving since you won’t. But I advise you to wake up before Malfoy does, you know he doesn’t like you.” Theo said as he walked out, ignoring the gasps of surprise when her bra landed in her face. 

What an annoying girl. 

He walked to the Great Hall, deciding that he might as well grab breakfast since he was awake. 

“Did you fuckers seriously eat all the sausages?” Theo scoffed as he took a seat in front of Mattheo. 

“What the fuck did you want me to eat? Those nasty ass muffins?” Blaise replied as he passed a goblet of orange juice to him. 

“HEY! They’re not nasty,” Lorenzo spoke up with crumbs falling out of his mouth. 

“Buddy you’re getting it all over me,” Mattheo shoved the boy next to him with a scoff before glancing over at Theo. 

“Fun night huh?” Mattheo raised a glass towards the bruise-like mark on Theo’s neck. 

“Fuck are you serious?” Theo groaned as he rubbed the side of his neck. 

“I knew I’d regret it, she’s been so possessive lately,” Theo rolled his eyes as he continued eating breakfast. 

“Well I mean you’re always going back to her, maybe she thinks something will happen between the two of you,” Mattheo responded while Theo laughed in response. 

“She’s a Hufflepuff, you know only Slytherin girls are worth dating.” 

Mattheo frowned as Lorenzo looked up from his breakfast.

The whole table fell silent as Lorenzo finished chewing his muffin, “Y/n’s a Ravenclaw. I don’t think she lacks anything compared to Slytherin girls.” 

“Yeah in fact I think she looked better than any Slytherin girl last night,” Mattheo mumbled, causing Theo to look up in surprise. 

“She was there?” He gaped, suddenly feeling like he was going to throw up. 

Lorenzo rolled his eyes knowing that Theo had no right to even care if she was there or not. Mattheo and him had begun to care for the girl as if she was their baby sister and at first they were rooting for Theo, but now they weren’t so sure anymore. They had thought that she could be the one to make Theo better. After all it was him who had shown interest first, it was him who had begun to change because of her. She was the first girl Theo had ever described without using compliments that didn’t mean anything. Never spoke about how hot her body was instead ranted to the two boys about how angelic her face looked while she studied and how she smelled like flowers and vanilla. Not only cared about what was on the outside but on the inside as well, bragging to the boys about how talented she was and how cool her nail designs were. That is the same boy who had his eyes set on someone else last night, and the thought of it even made Lorenzo want to either cry or punch him. 

“Yeah but don’t worry, she didn’t need your company,” Lorenzo scoffed as he continued to eat his breakfast again. 

Lorenzo isn’t the type of person to show any resentment or hold any grudges, so Theo definitely knew he might’ve messed up. 

But before Theo could say anything, a familiar face approached up behind Mattheo and Lorenzo. 

Following Theo’s gaze the two boys turned around and greeted the girl. 

“Chang! What’s up?” Lorenzo greeted happily, a complete 180 switch in tone. 

“Hey boys, I’m grabbing breakfast for Y/n since she doesn’t feel well and I thought seeing your faces would cheer her up,” Cho explained as she showed them her plate of chocolate chip muffins. 

Theo furrowed his eyebrows, “Is she okay? Is she sick?” 

Cho rolled her eyes at the boy who caused her best friend to come back to the dorms sobbing her eyes out. She didn’t even know Theo that well but as she watched Y/n clutch her heart as she cried in her arms, she felt as if the boy had broken her heart as well. 

“She's fine as if it’s any of your concern,” Cho brushed Theo’s questions away as she avoided any eye contact with him. 

Lorenzo and Mattheo didn’t bother coming to his defense but instead got up and grabbed some juice and fruit before following Cho. 

Theo looked down at his plate and suddenly didn’t feel very hungry anymore. Blaise sighed before patting his mate’s back in comfort while Theo pushed his food around. 

Maybe he deserved that. 

[beegomess]

They dreaming about you || Slytherin boys

Summary: The boys being surprised by hot dreams with you, even without being in a loving relationship. These dreams take them by surprise, but maybe not so much, since you had been noticing some stealthy looks from them for some time on your body. Warnings: A little spicy, +18.

Requests open!

materlist here

Blaise Zabini

That scene seemed too good to be true, but it was. At least in Blaise's head it was...

His body lying on the sheets with his skirt raised and legs open gave him the view of paradise. What only improved with the fact that your fingers slowly went in and out of you while your face squirmed in pleasure and your mouth spilled a few moans, from time to time, with his name.

In the dream, Blaise just looked, almost as if waiting for the right moment to touch you, and it was certainly wonderful to see you in that position.

However, Zabini's brain was awakened thanks to the roar of the bathroom door being knocked by his roommate who had just entered. His eyes opened slowly, feeling a violent frustration taking over his body followed by shame of himself. In addition to, of course, having something he had to solve in the shower before class.

At breakfast, you were there, laughing with Pansy. As soon as Blaise's brown eyes hit you, an embarrassment was felt. However, this embarrassment was soon replaced by a desire and vivid memories of his dream, which made him ignore you during the following days, because the dreams did not stop. They even happened in naps during the day. It was crazy for him, his time in the bath had to increase considerably in the last few days. Blaise didn't know what else to do with himself.

Draco Malfoy

Oh, no. Draco really didn't use to be that kind of boy. He, in fact, was used to receiving this kind of report from other girls. So when, at his sleep, he found himself dreaming of you with his lips around him, this lit an alert in his mind.

You were the sister of one of your friends, that wasn't right. He could swear that he consciously never wanted you that way, but in fact, he was only in the phase of denial by Theo's constant warnings not to look at his beautiful sister that way.

He avoided you as much as possible for the rest of the day, you two didn't really use to be very close, but you were almost always in the same places.

The attempt to avoid you during the day worked, but during dinner he couldn't do the same. What made you look the most lascivious way at your mouth while you ate dessert and talked to your friend. It was then that he realized that maybe he was not as calibrated in relation to you as he imagined.

Lorenzo Berkshire

Enzo saw you in your pajamas several times throughout your childhood, this was common among best friends. However, something seemed to have changed in you lately, he was starting to notice more about what his body looked like now. However, he thought he had stopped there, just a common physical attraction.

Good, but that's not what happened. One morning he just woke up with a big problem in his pants thanks to a dream in which you simply kissed him on his lap.

In the dream, you were wearing those very short pajamas that you loved to wear, but that Lorenzo hated because it made him look like any pervert. His body was on his lap, using the friction between the two of you to satisfy yourself in some way. His low moans muffled by his lips caused Enzo's smiles during the dream.

However, he woke up at some point with you, already dressed for class, knocking on the door of his room. His body that was hot and thirsty freezes immediately when he hears his voice calling him and he jumps out of bed in despair.

- Enzo, is everything okay? - You ask because of his delay in opening for you.

He answered anything, just to mislead you for a few hours. It was almost impossible to avoid you during the day, you surprised him, he was always with you and suddenly he was full of commitments that didn't include you.

Enzo just didn't know what to do, since whenever he saw you, he received scenes from his dream.

Mattheo Riddle

His body was beautifully folded over a table in some classroom, his hands grabbed the wood tightly while his skirt was raised and his panties were slightly dragged to the side to give him passage. Mattheo smiled as he hit his hips against his own and saw his face, pressed against the wood, writhing with the moans and sensations he gave you.

Everything was perfect, really everything. Until he simply woke up, without any interruption, his brain simply turned off the most beautiful scene he had ever seen and woke him up out of nowhere.

He opened his eyes and began to fall for himself about the dream. Why was he dreaming that about you? You didn't even talk, nor did you have friends in common besides Astoria, who was not exactly his friend, just a friend's girlfriend.

But that's okay, he did what he had to do so he didn't have to show all his tight pants and went on with his day. For him, that was unusual, but not a total astonishment. Mattheo really liked to see his body whenever he could, but he never did more than that.

Riddle's day went on normally. Girls throwing themselves at him, Draco complaining about his father, Theo agreeing and telling about his... Until you passed next to his table to yours ahead.

Coincidentally, you were wearing the skirt of that dream, the exact same skirt. All right, it was the uniform, but you were wearing that specific model, with pleats and more round and a little shorter.

Mattheo felt warm up, not with shame, but with a sudden desire. What only got worse when he realized that his dream happened in that same classroom. The class simply dragged on to Mattheo, who decided to go out in the middle of it to be able to relieve himself minimally and try to ignore you for the rest of the day, getting frustrated about the way he felt close to you from that day on.

Theodore Nott

Theodore's night had been great until he lay down, he had lost sleep and went to the Astronomy Tower to smoke, in an attempt to fall asleep again. And when he got there, he found you doing the same as him. You two talked and laughed at nonsense while smoking, something that became common over the weeks, it was something that happened coincidentally, until Theodore started going whenever you went.

He always slept better after hearing his laugh and that day was no different, he lay down and fell asleep quickly, and everything only seemed to get better when an image of him invaded his dreams: his hands leaning on Nott's chest while his breasts shook as you slid over him, his suggestive smiles and moans filled Theo's eyes, making him think he was finally in paradise for having her.

Anyway, his paradise was quickly interrupted by Mattheo's noises when leaving the dorm. Theodore was face down, but as soon as he turned around, it was visible to see his condition through the sheet itself, which made him rub his eyes in frustration, but not out of shame but out of necessity.

Theo was the kind of boy who was not ashamed of things like this, in fact, it only encouraged him to look for you, even if it meant having to deal with the insistent scenes reappearing in his mind.

Tom Riddle

You were simply stunning with your ankles hitting Tom's shoulders as he increased the pace of the beats on you. It was almost angelic for him to see you that way. The way he got lost in you in his own mind seemed like a weakness when he woke up.

Tom thought he was bewitched by you, after all, he was the one who should get into people's minds and not the other way around. So, when this happened, he was intrigued and obsessed with you. The two of you were not close, much less had already talked more than a brief question about school subjects. And that's why his obsession with you.

Even though he was a different boy, in a more focused and studious feeling than worried about girls, he can't help but perceive you in the libraries and how the dim lights contoured his body and curves perfectly. He didn't avoid you the next day, in fact, as the days went by, Tom approached you. He never ran after girls, but he seemed willing to watch you from afar whenever he could.

He felt like an idiot, futile to say the least. But he couldn't take away from himself the curiosity and the desire to see you really squirm under him.

_______________________________

xoxo, bee🫶🏼✨

[theosbaby]

lost in the fire

theodore nott x fem!reader x pansy parkinson

masterlist

summary; you said you might be into girls, you said you're going through a phase... well, maybe you can bring a friend.

warnings; reader is bisexual, sub!reader, dom!theo, dom!pansy, SMUT, threesome (fmf), tribbing, oral sex (male and fem receiving), p in v, praising, dirty talk, unprotected sex. this is the first time i write a threesome, hope it doesn't suck.

author's note; english isn't my first language, so you might find mistakes. first time posting here, hope you like it!

inspired by 'lost in the fire' by gesaffelstein, the weeknd

it was a friday night. slytherin party night. best fucking night of the month. the common room was crowded, everyone was there, including some students from other houses, and you were dancing with pansy in the improvised dance floor. both of you were sweaty and a bit drunk as you rubbed your bodies together to the rhythm of music, teasing and seducing each other.

meanwhile, a couple of hungry eyes watched you from afar; theo nott was sitting in one of the couches, glass of whisky in hand, as he analysed every movement you both made. theo had been trying to get in your pants for months now, but you kept rejecting him because you had been having some doubts about your sexuality since you started being friends with pansy and you realised that you liked her as more than friends. "i'm going through a phase" you had told him, but theo wasn't going to give up that easily; he was determined to fuck you.

seeing you dancing so provocatively with his best friend ignited something in him, so he finished the rest of his whisky in one gulp and stood up from the couch, deciding to approach you confidently.

"hey there, beautiful," he whispered in your ear, pressing his body to your back while you kept dancing with pansy.

you jumped slightly at theo's touch, surprised by his sudden appearance. you turned around slightly to face him, still holding onto pansy's waist as you said, "oh... hey, theo..." your voice was breathless, and you glanced over at pansy, who grinned back at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

theo and pansy were childhood friends, so she obviously knew about the guy's feelings for you. and she also knew that those feelings were reciprocated, even though you had never admitted it out loud. they both liked you and you liked them back, and she had no problem with sharing, so she pushed you against theo's body, sandwiching you between their bodies while she winked at her best friend.

you felt theo wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him, his free hand running through your hair. he leaned down to whisper in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

"you look incredible tonight," he said softly, before kissing your cheek gently.

he couldn't help but notice how well you and pansy complemented each other, the contrast between your personalities creating a perfect balance. and he wanted desperately to be part of that.

"dance with me," he asked you.

you hesitated, but nodded slowly, biting your lip nervously as you kept holding onto pansy's waist. you felt a thrill of excitement run through your body when you ground your ass against theo, moving sensually to the music. your eyes were fixed in pansy's green ones the whole time, feeling the heat emanating from their bodies as the three of you started dancing together.

the air became thick with desire in no time. pansy ran her fingers through your hair, pulling it back lightly to kiss your neck gently. at the same time. theo's hands roamed over your curves, feeling every contour of your body underneath your tight black dress. he could see the way your pupils dilated as you turned slightly to look at him, and he knew you were getting aroused. he pressed himself even closer to you, feeling the heat of your bodies melding into one.

"i wanna fuck you so bad," he whispered in your ear, pressing his hardening erection against your ass, "and so does pansy, you know?"

you blushed deeply at theo's words, feeling your heart rate increase as you tried to process what he was suggesting.

"you have us wrapped around your pretty little finger, love..." he kept talking, making your body flinch at his words.

"do i?" you inquired with faked innocence as you fluttered your eyelashes at him.

"oh you know damn well, baby."

you looked at pansy almost instantly when you heard her soft voice and you saw her smiling playfully back at you.

"so what are you gonna do about it?" you asked teasingly, looking between them with doe eyes full of curiosity and anticipation.

pansy reached out to stroke your cheek affectionately, before standing on her tiptoes to press a passionate kiss to your lips. you gasped in her mouth as you felt her lips against yours.

theo watched you both closely, his cock stirring in his pants as he imagined the three of you naked and tangled up between his bedsheets. he could hardly believe his luck; you were finally willing to have sex with him... adding pansy to the mix just made him harder.

"why don't we get out of here so we can make you feel good, love?" he suggested, his voice low and grave with need. "would you like that?" he asked you, placing some wet kisses on your neck as you kissed pansy.

you pulled away from her kiss reluctantly, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through your veins. you glanced at theo, biting your lip as you thought about what he was suggesting. you didn't want to make things awkward between them, since you knew they were such close friends, but at the same time you couldn't deny the thrill of being with both of them at the same time.

"yeah... i want that," you answered, your voice barely above a whisper as you stared deeply into his eyes.

"my dorm," theo replied simply, leading the way towards the boys dormitories without any further discussion.

when you arrived at his room, he unlocked the door quickly, pushing it open and gesturing for you and pansy to enter ahead of him. once inside, he closed the door behind him and locked it before turning back to the both of you, finding you already kissing again. "fucking hell," he muttered under his breath, watching closely as he started approaching you.

you felt theo's body pressing against your back as pansy devoured your mouth, slipping her playful tongue between your parted lips. his hands started roaming over your body and you moaned softly against pansy's lips, your own hands exploring her slim body while you pulled her closer to you.

after a few seconds you broke the kiss and turned to face theo, not wanting to make him feel left out; you grasped his neck and pulled him into a kiss too. he fucking moaned at the contact and the sound made you feel weak on the knees as you tangled your fingers in his soft wavy hair.

pansy started lifting your dress over your hips slowly, placing wet kisses on your shoulders and neck while her fingers caressed your thighs. when she exposed your black lace thong, she started toying with the hem of it teasingly, making your breath hitch.

theo pulled away from you reluctantly, gripping your dress to take it off completely. you stood almost fully naked and flushed in front of his hungry gaze, which wandered all over your bare form.

he grasped your jaw, lifting your head so that your eyes met his as he pressed against your body, muttering, "so fucking beautiful."

he captured your lips in another filthy kiss as pansy cupped your pussy over your soaked underwear, causing you to gasp in surprise.

"oh my god," you whined in between kisses.

you parted your legs to allow the brunette to touch you as she pleased.

"she's so wet," she said in a whisper that the both of you could perfectly hear and theo groaned.

"bed, now," he ordered, pulling away from you.

while you made your way towards his bed, you could hear the rustling of their clothing as it hit the floor. you sat on the edge of the mattress and pansy was the first one to approach you, already naked.

"You have a beautiful body, pans," you complimented her, opening your legs for her.

you saw her smiling as she positioned between your spread thighs, placing a little peck on your lips. you grabbed one of her breasts, toying with her perky little nipple until it hardened and she let out a soft moan, her eyes closing and head falling back.

pansy shifted slightly, intertwining your legs with hers so that your pussies were pressed against each other, and she ground against you, grasping at your hips to hold you close. you moaned softly, feeling a surge of pleasure shoot through your body as your cunts rubbed together through your underwear. immediately, your hips bucked against pansy's, wanting to create more friction between your clits.

"mmm... feels so good," you said breathlessly, getting wetter by the second.

your gaze drifted to theo, who was watching you both intently, his cock straining against his boxers as he listened to your breathy moans. you watched him approaching you, unable to hold back any longer. he kneeled on the bed next your body, taking his thick and long shaft out of his underwear; your eyes widened at his size.

"gonna be a good girl and suck me off, love?" he growled lowly, his voice rough with desire.

he brushed the tip of his cock against your lips, while pansy and you kept tribbing, and you nodded eagerly, opening your mouth and taking theo's cock in your mouth greedily.

you wrapped your hand around his base and squeezed him tightly, taking him as far as you could without gagging. then, you started bobbing your head up and down while you used your tongue to tease the sensitive head of his dick.

you looked up at him with a playful expression in your eyes and theo groaned at the sight, feeling his cock slide inside your warm, wet mouth. he ran his hand through your hair, pulling at it slightly to guide your movements.

"that's it, love," he whispered hoarsely, "such a good girl."

pansy moaned loudly at the sight, grasping hard at your thigh, and also praised you, "you look so pretty sucking theo's cock, baby."

theo glanced over at pansy, seeing her grinding slowly against your pussy, your panties damp with your combined juices. he couldn't help but think how incredibly erotic the scene was.

you hummed around theo's shaft, feeling a tingling in your core as pansy pulled your panties to the side and kept grinding against your bare pussy, her hand moving to caress your swollen clit.

"mmm... i want to see you come, baby," she whispered seductively, "i want to watch you cum for us."

theo groaned louder, feeling his own release approaching as he took in the sight of your soaked cunt pulsing with need; he was so close to cumming, but he managed to hold back.

your cheeks hollowed as you continued to suck theo's dick, despite your need to pull back and moan freely, feeling your climax building up inside of you. you kept sucking him until your breathing became so uneven that you felt like couldn't breathe with his dick on your mouth and you released it with a loud pop.

"so close... i'm gonna cum" you warned, your walls contracting around nothing.

theo leaned in to take one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking at it and making you moan. you looked up at pansy with a pleading expression in you eyes and she smiled, rubbing her thumb harder against your clit until your were coming.

"that's it, let it out, love," theo whispered with his mouth pressed to your breast, his fingers caressing the other one.

you came hard, letting out a loud drawn-out moan while you gasped for air, feeling your pussy spasm violently and your whole body trembling from pleasure. pansy came right after you with a loud cry, her back arching as you both tried to keep the movements of your hips to ride out your orgasms, finally, she collapsed onto your chest, her breathing ragged and her heart racing.

theo watched closely, his cock throbbing at the sight of two beautiful women writhing in pleasure beside him. he leaned in to press a kiss on your lips, you returned it lazily as you recovered from the aftershocks of your climax.

"gonna fuck you now," theo muttered between kisses, "you want that, pretty girl?"

"yeah." you nodded eagerly.

you reached for pansy's face, cupping her cheek to pull her into the kiss too, the feeling of both of their tongues and lips brushing against yours made you whimper. you couldn't help but smile, pulling back to watch them kissing while you caressed their faces; the sight only made you wetter.

it was theo who broke the contact after a few seconds, pupils dilated while he grabbed your hips and placed you higher on the bed, your head falling against the pillow. you spread your legs wider instinctively to make room for him as he positioned between them. his hands moved up your thighs, slowly caressing your skin, until he reached your thong and started pulling it down; you lifted your hips and closed your legs momentarily to allow him to take it off.

"such a pretty little pussy," he said, sliding the head of his cock between your slick folds.

you whimpered softly at the action and bit your lower lip, your hips buckled.

"you gonna eat pansy's cunt while i fuck you, yeah?" he commanded in a tender voice, still rubbing his tip against your puffy clit.

you couldn't form any coherent sentence, so you limited yourself to nod in agreement. then pansy approached you, placing a brief kiss on your lips before straddling your face. you grasped at her thighs, lowering her until she was sitting on your mouth and you sucked her pussy greedily, making her moan as your tongue lapped at her clit. you felt theo slipping one finger inside of you slowly and you hummed against pansy.

"so tight and wet for me, huh." his words made you tighter around his digit. "gonna fuck you so good, sweetheart."

he inserted another finger next to the first one to stretch you out, curling them to rub your g-spot. his actions had you moaning repeatedly as you practically made out with pansy's pussy.

"please," you begged, growing inpatient; you could feel your juices dripping onto his bedding.

the sound of your voice was muted by pansy's flesh, but he understood you perfectly and decided to comply. you felt him slowly pushing his cock inside your tight pussy, stretching you out until he was fully seated in your wetness; you heard him moaning loudly.

"god, your pussy is fucking heaven..." he groaned.

you whimpered against pansy's flesh and grasped hard at her thighs, licking a long stripe from her entrance down to her clit, capturing it between your lips to suck on it. she kept moaning and squirming and you knew she was close.

"doing such a good job eating pansy out, love," he muttered as he started thrusting into you, setting a slow pace at first. "gonna make her cum on your pretty face?"

you hummed in delight as you felt his cock hitting all the right spots, your hips bucking to try and match his rhythm.

"fuck yes!" you heard pansy moan while she ground her hips faster against your tongue, her legs started shaking underneath your touch.

you couldn't see anything since her body was blocking your view, but you could hear the sound of wet kisses and theo's skin slapping against yours as he quickened the rhythm.

pansy came with a series of moans while she rode your face, body trembling and head falling back. then, she collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily; her cheeks were flushed.

you looked up at theo, lips swollen and glistening with pansy's juices as you took in the sight that was thedore nott towering over your body while he fucked you. you wrapped your legs around his hips and he leaned in to press a passionate kiss to your lips, tangling his fingers in your hair.

"i've wanted this for so long..." he groaned in your mouth, breaking the kiss.

he left a trail of wet kisses down your jaw and towards your neck. your bodies were so close together that his pelvis rubbed your clit with each thrust, sending shivers down your spine. you grasped at his hair strands, forcing him back up to keep kissing him.

"fuck," you whimpered between kisses, "wish i've let you fuck me sooner."

he chuckled at your admission. "yeah?" he bit your lip teasingly, looking into your eyes with a playful gleam in his. "well, guess we'll have to make up for the lost time."

you nodded eagerly, moaning loudly when you felt pansy's hand slipping between your bodies to start toying with your swollen clit; for a moment, you had forgotten she was there too.

your orgasm started building up due to combination of the stimulation on your clit and his dick rubbing your g-spot.

"i'm gonna cum," you told him, your pussy clamping around him like a vice.

"go ahead, love," he encouraged you, "cum all over my cock."

he watched closely as your pussy engulfed his dick and the sight almost sent him over the edge, but he managed to hold back until you were coming around his cock with a loud cry, muscles tightening and legs shaking. the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing him was all it took for him to spill inside you, filling you with his cum as he let out the prettiest whimpers.

"fuck, theo." you panted out, falling limp onto the mattress.

he placed a series of kisses on your forehead and temple as you both came down from your highs.

"yeah, i know." he chuckled while he pulled out, laying down next to you.

the three of you laid there in silence for a few minutes, completely spent and satisfied, as you cuddled.

"hottest thing i've ever done," you whispered, your gaze wandering between them both, "we should make this a habit."

you heard them laughing affectionately at your comment... they couldn't help but agree with you, though.

[nevereverthem]

HP one-shot : partners / friends

🫱 [Mattheo Riddle × Draco Malfoy] 🫲

Warnings : none.

Length : 2k

We need to talk...

It's your decision

Imagine if Mattheo Riddle, the son of Voldemort, was studying at Hogwarts as a young ‘spy’. Nobody knew about his real identity, except from the insiders. Draco, being a newbie death-eater, was now aware of his classmate’s status. He already respected the guy, but it got ‘worse’ when he learned who he was.

Today, Mattheo sent him a note to meet in an abandoned part of the castle. When the clock ticked, Draco was exactly where he was asked to be, anxiety crippling in his chest. He knew the dark lord had a mission waiting for him, and he feared the time had come, that he had sent his son to deliver the message.

Mattheo was standing right next to a window, gazing outside, observing the night sky. “You came.”

Draco kept a fair distance from him. “Of course I did!” He sounded way too scared for his own liking. He cleared his throat. “I mean… Why am I here?”

“I would like you to help me.” His monotone voice prevented the blonde from guessing his intention.

“Anything!” Again, a bit too loud. “Hum… whatever he wants me to do.” Deep down, he wished it was just some stupid teenager drama that he honestly missed. It was all so trivial and comforting compared to the shit tone of terror it was to live with a mad man creeping around in his house.

Mattheo continued. “The request is not from my father. It’s from me.”

Draco’s brows furrowed in confusion. He hesitated a second. “I… what’s the matter?”

“I’m in a relationship.”

The blond let out a slight huff, relieved and intrigued by his declaration. “And..?” When Mattheo revealed the name of his lover, Draco could not believe it. His eyes grew wide. “But she’s-”

“Muggle-born?” His eyes finally met Draco’s. They were dark, filled with a dozen feelings that the blonde couldn't distinguish. “Don't you dare give me the mud-blood speech, or I'll rip your tongue out!”

Draco pressed his lips together, shutting his mouth. He gulped loudly, freezing in place.

“You’re not allowed to judge me for something you don't even believe in yourself.”

Draco tried to argue but he was cut short. “Oh please, quit your shit! I noticed how you look at Granger when you think no one's watching. You’re like a child fighting the urge to eat the snack his parents forbade him to.”

The boy looked utterly offended, a false expression of disgust tore his face “I don't like HER! She’s-”

“What!? Smart, pretty, sassy and powerful? The last time I checked, it sounded like your type of girl!” Draco was silent. “She’s also reasonably wealthy for a muggle. If her parents were born with magic you would already be dating her.” The blond opened his mouth to intervene. “Maybe not… but you’d be a bit nicer to her.”

“That’s not-”

“It’s easier to destroy the things you want, rather than admit it hurts to know you can never have them, right?”

Draco held his gaze but he just couldn't speak. Memories of the few past years appeared in his mind. He saw the day Potter refused his handshake. When he first mocked Weasley, and picked on Granger… He felt powerful. That got him allies to mess with other students, laughing at them and causing trouble. Now that he was in all this… he couldn't even tell them… It wasn't fun, it wasn't what he wanted anymore… Did he ever want it? Yes, he did… but it didn't feel right anymore…

As if Mattheo could hear his thoughts, he continued. “I ignore people. It doesn't mean I do them wrong. You, on the other hand, did a pretty great job at being a jackass. I heard bullies are just bastards who want attention. That may be the case for you. Although, I’m sure witnessing a bunch of murders cured you. Am I right? It doesn't feel as right to pick on the weaker as it did before?”

Draco looked away. His body itself refused the discussion.

The dark-haired continued his monologue as if he was by himself. “Muggles aren't that bad. You may think I'm crazy or brainwashed by ‘love’, but don't get mistaken. It's not because you’ve been told to hate some kind of people your whole life that it’s right to do so. They're okay. Some are kind, others are egotistical assholes. It’s just like our own world! I must say, you wonder how they manage to live this old without magic, knowing how clumsy they can be. It's pretty impressive.” He seemed lost in his thoughts, info-dumping about an interesting subject of his. “You’re one of the best students here, right? You enjoy learning.” The blonde looked back at him, frowning in confusion. “If you just took the time to learn a few things about them, you’d realise how mistaken we all are…”

Draco huffed, faking exasperation. “Are you trying to recruit me on Potter’s side, or is it a way to test my loyalty? If that’s the case I-”

“Maybe I'm like him. I’m hateful and cruel… but I won't fight for the same shit as my father does!” Draco was lost at this point, lost between fear, disbelief and incredulity. “You think I enjoy watching him kill innocent people? Never have, never will.” Draco’s nails digged in his palm. “I know you don't either. I saw the expression on your face. You tried hard to be a total jerk. You definitely succeeded, no problem with that. But I know you're not a murderer.”

Draco tried to remain composed. “If I have to-”

“Could you kill her? The muggle-born you supposedly hate!”

Picturing Hermione, badly injured, struggling in a pool of her own blood… He felt his throat close on itself, restricting the oxygen’s entry…

Mattheo didn't stop. He had to make his point, had to make him understand. “Could you even kill Potter, or the Weasley? Could you look them in the eyes and tear the life out of them? Could you actually cast the spell and end their life with your own wand?”

That sole idea made panic increase his breathing. A strangled sound slipped out of his lips “I-”

“It’s no use lying to me. I'm not asking you if you have to, or if you sometimes want to. Could you actually do it?” He needed an answer.

Draco held his gaze again. He didn’t want to be perceived as weak. He was not. But he knew Matt was right. As much as he grew to hate the trio and their little lot… he couldn't go that far… he probably went already too far… but there was a line he would be incapable of crossing… mur- just the thought of the word made him sick to his stomach. Tears gathered in his eyes when images of professor Burbage being executed right before his face passed in his mind… He shook his head the slightest that he could, a subtle movement that Mattheo caught.

He nodded in return, noticing the reflection in the boy’s shining eyes. “You can call me weak if you please, but I do think the girl I'm with makes me stronger every day. She makes me so strong that I'm ready to turn against my own father for the first time…” Draco was thoroughly listening. “We’ve shared a whole lot of things, but she's never seen me cry.” At that remark, the blonde tried his best to blink his own tears away. “I can tell or hear the most heart-wrenching thing in the wizarding world, and I wouldn’t shed a single tear. I physically can't.” Draco wished he had the same ability. It would have saved him a lot of sleepless nights. “I know you do. You’re not as discreet as you think when you sneak into the bathroom at night. Some may think you’re going for a midnight wank or something, but we both know that what we’re in suppresses this kind of fancy from our body.”

Draco raised his eyebrows, nodding in agreement.

“So, please do. Do cry all you can. You're feeling something important and I don't want you to push it away.”

Draco received the advice and didn't add anything. No response. No comment. He wasn't planning on crying more than he already was, but maybe this would help him feel a little less ashamed the next time he did. Strangely enough, Mattheo also went mute. Maybe his mouth felt dry from all the talking. The boy just went on a full monologue about rights and wrongs…

After a moment, it was Draco who broke the silence. “You… your girl, she doesn't fear for her life?”

Mattheo was pulled out of his thoughts. “About?”

The blonde sighed heavily. “I’m sorry to remind you but… you're the dark lord’s son.”

Mattheo looked away. “She doesn't know…”

“But-”

“I know. I’ll have to tell her. She's gonna know anyway. It’d be better if I'm the one breaking the info…”

“I wouldn't say ‘better’. It’s a shock when you find out.” Draco reminisced about the day he first saw Mattheo at a death-eater meeting. He was across the table, sitting right next to his father, Volde-...

“Yes… I just hope not to sound like a manipulative muggle-hunter traitor if I tell her myself…”

The mutual understanding floated in the air…

“What will you do if she… rejects you when she knows?” Draco asked.

The boy responded with no hesitation. “I’ll leave her alone.” Draco felt the need to object but Mattheo was faster. “Wouldn't you have doubts about your partner if you just learned they were actually related to a dangerous association led by a genocidal monster who’s actually their own father?”

The blonde’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. He couldn't deny it. Then he asked. “...What are you gonna do?”

“I don't know. I’ll prove myself to her. I’ll stop him. Whatever I have to do…” He sounded determined and sure of himself. He had nothing planned for now, but the sheer resolution that emanated from him was enough to believe he would never go back. “Will you help me?”

Draco was shocked when he heard the question. That was his request then… the reason they were standing in a dark corridor in the middle of the night…. Was he ready to switch sides? Was Matt asking him to join Potter’s little group or what? Absolutely not! The implications were making him nauseous, but… Was he actually gonna make it on this side? Would he be able to do whatever the dark lord was to ask him?... He already knew the answer… His parents? His dad was far long lost when Draco was just a child… When he learned about all of this… he remembered conversations he eavesdropped that didn't make any sense at the time… now everything was perfectly clear. His mom… She was sucked into the same beliefs and probably was doomed to the same path… though he was certain he had noticed something… He wished he could know… know what to do… know they were all gonna make it safe and sound… One particular moment lit up in his mind. It was a Christmas Eve night, when he was only 9. He remembered it perfectly as if it was yesterday. His mom was actually baking, the muggle way, now that he thought about it, while his dad was casting spells away to decorate the manor… He knew things could never be this way again… but he would do anything to feel this relaxed and carefree just for one second. He had to try… He would also prove stupid Potter that he was no better than Draco Malfoy! And that detail was non-negligible.

Mattheo was waiting for his answer. They were not going to dethrone his father, just the two of them, that was for sure. However, he knew that Draco could have sensitive information. The boy was the embodiment of ‘walls have ears’. Plus, obsessed with Potter as he was, he would be able to gather information on the other side’s intentions.

Draco lifted his head, staring into Mattheo's eyes with the same determination he displayed a moment ago, a hopeful glint in his eyes. “Where do we start?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi,

This is a little idea that I had and wanted to share. ~

I never expected it to be this long, but here I am with a 2k random idea. 😌

I hope you enjoyed it. ~

Feel free to drop likes and comments. ~

XO

Update : Do you want a sequel?

Harry Potter Masterlist

[thecharacterchronicler]

Bloodline (Part 1) || Ominis Gaunt x Reader || Smut

Outline: Your family arranged for you to marry Marvolo Gaunt. Fortunately, your best friend Ominis steps up and makes sure to save you from such a fate.

Word count: 4’515

Warnings: English isn’t my first language so possible misspelled or misplaced words, arranged marriage, abusive families (mentioned), first time s*x, friends to lovers and explicit smut.

(( Part 2 - Please )) - (( Part 3 - Heirloom )) - (( Masterlist ))

The familiar flip-flap of owls entering the great hall through the windows resounded in Ominis’ ears, excited chatter rising from the students sitting at the tables as, one by one, they received their mail. The sound of paper falling on a wooden surface nearby piqued his curiosity, he didn’t receive letters often, nor did you or Sebastian but an envelope had unmistakably landed in front of one of you.

Your clothes rustled as you moved to take the paper in your hand, tearing apart the top of the envelope as your owl took flight again, its wings almost grazing Ominis’s hair on its way back to the owlery.

Despite the noise of other students all around, Ominis distinctly heard you take a sharp inhale of air, your silence as you read the letter addressed to you feeling somewhat tense.

“Is everything alright ?” He asked you, but you didn’t reply right away, too focused on whatever you were reading.

He waited a few more minutes, noticing the way your legs grew restless and your movements became agitated. You were sitting at the opposite side of the table from him and your foot bumped into his a few times as you nervously readjusted your posture.

He was too polite to insist and didn’t want to push you to share something you might want to keep for yourself, so even though he was dying to question you about the mysterious letter you had received and why its content seemed to upset you, he simply cleared his throat to remind you that he was waiting for an answer to his question.

“It’s a letter from my family.” You explained, with a slight tremble in your voice. “They say that they arranged a partnership for me, effective immediately after graduation.”

“A partnership ? You mean some kind of professional training ?” Sebastian asked, before biting into an apple.

“That would be an internship.” Ominis corrected him, shaking his head. “I think she meant something more intimate than that.”

“Like… A relationship ?” Sebastian inquired, still munching on his fruit.

“A marriage.” You stated, defeated.

“I didn’t know you were dating someone.”

“I am not.”

“It’s common for wealthy and powerful families such as hers to arrange weddings, especially if it’s a matter of keeping their bloodline alive and pure.” Ominis explained, a shiver running down his spine. That was something his family did too, they were obsessed with maintaining the quality of their bloodline, suitable matches were carefully chosen, sometimes within their own family members.

“It’s more of a business contract than a marriage.” You added, with a sigh. “And my parents are making it very clear that I don’t have any say in the matter.”

“Do you know who’s the lucky fiancé, though ?” Sebastian asked, seemingly taking such terrible news lightly. Way too lightly. It was a tragedy, really. You deserved better than to be forced into a loveless marriage under the pretense of keeping a bloodline going, securing the pride and superiority of the worst kind of wizards to exist. Maybe Sebastian couldn’t quite grasp the gravity of what you had been asked to do but Ominis knew all too well how you must feel, being robbed of your free will and freedom by a controlling and corrupted family.

“It’s Marvolo Gaunt.” You answered, bluntly, before getting up from your seat on the bench and leaving the great hall in a rush. Although Ominis couldn’t see, he felt the intensity of your gaze piercing right through him, until you were no longer in the room.

His chest tightened and his body tensed at the sound of his older brother’s name. Marvolo probably was the most cruel wizard he knew, aside from their father. Although they shared the same blood, the same family and the same education, Ominis wasn’t afraid to say that his brother was immensely deranged and should have been locked up in Azkaban a long time ago, like the rest of his family actually. The only reason rules didn’t apply to them and they were free to commit the most vile and cruel crimes without facing punishment was because they were Gaunts, descendants of the great Salazar Slytherin and held more power and wealth than any other family of wizards in the country.

And now you were going to be one of them.

He couldn’t imagine you, taking part in the cruel acts his family committed for fun. And if you didn’t, they would find a way to punish you for it, just like they had punished him in the past. The Gaunts were dangerous, and you needed to stay away from them, no matter what.

Ominis stood up, reaching for his wand to guide his steps through the corridors and halls of the castle. He needed to find you and he knew his wand would know exactly where to take him. He was racking his brain, trying to find a solution to save you from such a doomed fate as he followed mindlessly the path his wand indicated. Eventually, he found himself outside, in a narrow courtyard. Wind rustled through the leaves of a nearby tree and caressed his face, sending a cold shiver through his body. He couldn’t feel any rays of sunshine warming his skin, meaning it must be a rather cloudy afternoon. He could hear the sound of water moving in the fountain at the center of the courtyard, birds singing in the sky… And soft muffled sobs. His wand twitched, tugging him in your direction.

“I’m sorry this is happening to you.” Ominis told you, once he was standing in front of you. He could hear the sobs shaking your body as clear as day but still felt compelled to bring his hand to your face, wiping the warm teardrops away from your cheeks with his thumb. “Marvolo really isn’t a suitable match for you.”

“It’s alright, I knew this day would come eventually. I was just hoping my parents wouldn’t force me into this as soon as I was done with school.” You replied, another teardrop falling from your lashes and rolling down your cheek..

“There must be something we can do about it.” Ominis said, instinctively brushing off the fresh tear from your face. “What if you were engaged to someone else ?”

You laughed although you didn’t find anything amusing about the situation.

“During my seven years here, no one ever courted me, no one attempted to ask me on a date, I have no other prospects. And you know as well as I do that my parents shouldn’t risk angering the Gaunts.”

Ominis furrowed his brows. You were right, if your parents broke their promise to marry you off to one of his siblings, they might not make it out alive. If his parents had arranged for you to be wed to Marvolo, it meant they considered your blood pure enough to perpetuate their dignified bloodline. It was a rare occurrence, usually no one was deemed worthy enough so chances were that they’d do everything in their power to ensure that you’d become a Gaunt now that they had approved of you.

If you broke the arrangement to be with someone else, a wizard of lower class and reputation, his father would take it as an offense and you’d have to pay for such a daring act. If you married Marvolo, then surely he would take advantage of you and of your obligation to satisfy your family and his, he’d be cruel and violent, he wouldn’t care about you and would never treat you with the respect you deserved… There was only one option left.

“Marry me.” Ominis stated, determined.

“What ? What are you saying ?” You spoke, dumbstruck by the sudden suggestion.

“My parents want you to ensure the purity of our bloodline, your parents want you to earn the status and power that come with my last name… So marry me instead.”

“Ominis, you don’t have to. I can’t ask you to do that for me, that’s…” You argued, shaking your head.

“It’s a matter of time before my parents arrange a wedding for me too. I think I’d much rather be married to someone I consider a friend than a stranger they would have picked for me. So really, you’d be the one doing me a favor.” Ominis continued, his heart beating faster as he spoke. He knew it was a good idea, it would save you from Marvolo, from his family and, despite being a Gaunt himself, he would do his best to treat you well. He would never hurt you, never mock you, never give you any reason to regret choosing him instead of his brother…

So please, say yes.

His mother adjusted his tie. She told him that the all black suit she had gotten tailored made for him suited him better than anything he ever wore. She said it brought his blue eyes out, and that everyone would be able to tell that he was one of the heirs of the Gaunt name. Ominis wasn’t sure what was meant to be a compliment and what was meant as a jab, but he simply nodded at everything she said.

By the time he walked down to the garden of the imposing manor, his mother’s arm looped in his, he felt dizzy with anxiety. His heart was pounding in his chest, threatening to burst out at any minute. His ribcage felt so tight around his lungs that he could barely breathe correctly, and the more time went by, the more sweaty his hands became.

He could hear the chatter of the numerous guests his parents had invited as they took place around the lectern that had been placed at the very center of the garden. The familiar smell of roses tickled his nose, meaning the white rose bushes must be in full bloom in this season. He could feel the sunshine on his face and the warm summer air on his skin. It was a beautiful day on the gloomy manor.

His mother let go of his arm, leaving him standing on his own in front of what he imagined was an impressive audience of grumpy wizards. He still couldn’t quite catch his breath and, the moment the ambient chatter died down, his throat instantly felt constricted and his body tensed up.

He heard the whispers among the crowd and the footsteps approaching in his direction. It was unmistakably the way of walking of a man, confident and determined while the lighter steps next to his were more hesitant. In the past seven years, Ominis had memorized the sound of your steps. He also could recognize your smell in a crowd and knew exactly how soft your skin felt under his fingers. He could tell if your hair was up or let down from the way you touched and played with it and he knew that the quiet, almost imperceptible breaths you let out meant that you felt nervous. He knew all of this and more yet, he had no idea what it felt like to kiss your lips or hold you in his arms and that felt awfully wrong, considering what you both were about to do.

The man that had accompanied you walked away, leaving you standing with Ominis in front of prying, curious eyes. You didn’t say anything to each other, too busy trying to not pass out from how anxious you both felt. The contract was written and placed on the pupil in front of you, its tricky clauses oozing with dark magic.

It wasn’t just any contract. It was a cursed one, meant to bind you together forever. The words til death do us part took a different meaning as you signed your name at the bottom of the page, knowing that if you ever tried to leave him, you’d most likely be instantly killed by some kind of dark spell that probably was forbidden to cast. The promises you made by signing this contract were definitive and the consequences if you failed to hold them were deadly. At the very least, you both could feel thankful that you weren’t making such vows to a complete stranger.

Ominis signed the parchment too, the ink dripping from the quill dark red like blood. The contract was sealed with applause and illegal magic, making you his wife. For the rest of your lives.

The dinner that followed the ceremony was dull and mostly boring, a display of Mister Gaunt’s power and a lecture on his narrow views about muggles and mudblood wizards, as the guests listened quietly to his speech, nodding in agreement every once in a while. Eventually, Ominis took his leave, pretending that he was exhausted from the events of the day. You excused yourself too, glad to find him waiting for you in the hallway.

He knew the manor he grew up in in details and could navigate it without the help of his wand. He guided you upstairs, through the dark corridor that led to his bedroom. He opened the door for you, letting you step inside first before following you in and shutting the door behind him. He had never had any guest in his bedroom before and that realization made him feel uneasy. He knew that the servants kept his room neat and tidy - just how he liked it - but he wasn’t sure of what you were going to think about the ancient desk he sat at to write his letters to Sebastian, or the books that lined the shelves of bookcases that reached the ceiling. And what about the four poster bed he slept in, he had always found it large and comfortable but suddenly he worried it might be too small to share with you.

“Once we move into our own home we’ll be able to sleep in separate rooms. But for now, I think it’s better if we share mine.” He said, hoping that you wouldn’t feel too uncomfortable here until then.

To convince his parents to let him marry you instead of his brother, he had pretended he was madly, irredeemably in love with you. At first, they didn’t like it, saying that love made men foolish and pushed them to their demise but, eventually, they came to the realization that him wanting you so badly would serve the purpose of continuing their bloodline. Many heirs could be born from such desires.

Now that you were here, in the intimacy of his bedroom, he couldn’t help but think about it. How amazing it would be to kiss you, touch you, make you his as everybody expected him to. But he wouldn’t do it. Mainly because he was a gentleman and had promised himself that he would never, ever, disrespect you. And also because he was determined to not give his parents the satisfaction of having any heirs from him. The Gaunt bloodline was poison, corrupted with dark practices and immorality. Sooner or later, one of them would cause unforgivable chaos in the world, so he was determined to prevent it from happening anyway he could.

“I’m sorry that you had to do this.” You told him, taking a closer look at the books on his nightstand. You sounded sincere, as if you felt guilty that he now had the privilege of calling you his wife. “You should have been able to marry someone you love.”

Ominis had never felt anything remotely close to what was described in the books he read for someone, nor did he experience the crushes Sebastian so often had on a random person every once in a while. The only woman that had somehow interested him was you. He cared about you. And maybe it was an acceptable foundation for a marriage.

“You should have been able to do that too.” You sat on his bed, your wedding dress crunching up above your legs. He approached, heart hammering in his chest. “But for what it’s worth, I consider myself lucky to call you my wife.”

You smiled and reached out to take his hand in yours. His palms were sweaty, as per usual when you were around, but you didn’t seem bothered by that, pulling him so that he’d sit on the bed next to you.

“Do you mind if I try something ?” You asked him, a bit hesitantly. He took a sharp inhale of air, his body straightening up with sudden tension. In appearance, he seemed quite uncomfortable to be sitting so close to you, and even more now that you had asked him such a question, but he nodded despite hating being unsure of what to expect.

You moved closer, slowly. Your scent tickled his nose, he knew it by heart, he had fell asleep more than once to the faint perfume you left on the common room’s couch pillows, usually prompting him to dream of you. He felt your soft, warm breath caress his skin, indicating that your face was inching impossibly close towards his. He held his breath as you pressed your delicate lips to his, giving him a chaste kiss to seal your union, far from prying eyes.

He kept his eyes closed when you moved away, conflicted emotions passing on his face. He wasn’t expecting to feel so many tingles in his stomach after such a light and short kiss, yet even now that you had moved away, he still felt millions of butterflies tingling under his skin. He left out the breath he had been holding, taking just enough air to say your name, softly.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to know what it felt like.” You apologized, and he knew from the sound of your voice that you must be blushing.

He had wondered what it would feel like to kiss you too, more than he’d like to admit. A friend shouldn’t be curious about such things, it felt wrong to him, like he was betraying you by having such intimate thoughts about you. He hated how conflicted he felt whenever he woke up with an erection because he had spent the night dreaming of you touching him, and he hated how his primal instinct sometimes took over and he’d end up brushing against your chest or your back under the pretense that he couldn’t see what he was doing. He shouldn’t feel so desperate for his friend to kiss him again, and surely he shouldn’t want to be given permission to explore the body of his friend in details… But perhaps, if such desires weren’t acceptable between friends, they could be considered reasonable ones to have for his wife…

“Don’t apologize, we’re married now after all.” He gulped, feeling the temperature of his body rising. “Kissing is one of the many things that will be expected from us.”

You moved, suddenly growing agitated next to him. He could hear the rustle of the fabric of your wedding dress, the sound of clasps being opened and knots getting untied. He didn’t dare to move, not even breathe, as he carefully listened for a clue as to what you were up to. Then, he felt your hands on his chest, slowly undoing the buttons of his vest, one by one.

“What are you doing ?” He asked, his breath catching in his throat when his hands, resting on his lap, brushed against your bare thighs.

“Another thing that is expected of us.” You simply replied, now dragging his vest down his shoulders, before repeating the same actions to remove his shirt. He heard your surprised, yet quiet, gasp and the way your breathing became labored at the sight of his chest. He felt your fingers tracing the lines of his abs, brushing against the blond hair under his navel and grazing the elastic of his pants.

He said your name in a whisper, wanting it to be a warning but coming out like a desperate plea. You shouldn’t be touching him like this, not because it was what your families required of you. You should only do it because you wanted to. So he knew he had to stop you before it went too far, before he wouldn’t be able to refuse, before his body was set ablaze by his repressed lust for yours otherwise, there would be no way of stopping him anymore. He would consume you. Worship you. Devour you. And his promise to never disrespect you would be just a distant memory already, because none of the things he wanted to do to you were respectable.

But you weren’t making it easy for him to keep his word. Your hand was still tracing the lines of his chest like he was some kind of sculpture you were admiring, taking in every detail like he would. And when you moved to sit on his lap, straddling him and trapping him between you and the bed, he tensed up and groaned.

He brought his hands to your hips, telling himself that he’d gently guide you off of him so that he’d be able to remain a gentleman and not take advantage of the admirable loyalty you had for your family with your determination to complete your marital duties right away, but when he felt nothing but your warm skin under his fingers, when you leaned forward to press your naked chest against his and plant another soft kiss on his lips, the remaining of his will power to resist you dissolved.

“We shouldn’t be doing this, we’re friends.” He said, because that was what he usually told himself whenever he thought about you while rubbing himself in the shower. Except he wasn’t the one gripping on his erection this time. You had easily opened up his pants and now the evidence of his desire for you was held tightly in your hand. Your thumb stroked the tip of his erection, spreading the clear drop of precum that had escaped from it over the sensitive pink skin.

“We’re not friends anymore, Ominis. We’re married.” You corrected him, your words destroying the only argument he had to convince himself to not behave like some kind of wild animal as he couldn’t seem to stop his hands from exploring your naked body. “I wasn’t allowed to organize my wedding, chose my dress or invite my friends… Don’t rob me from having a beautiful wedding night. Please.”

His erection twitched in your hand. You were asking so nicely, so politely, for something so intense and passionate, it made him even harder. He put his arm around your waist, securely holding you as he removed you from his lap and laid you down on his bed with a strength you never expected him to have.

“Are you sure this is what you want ?” He inquired, holding himself above you with his hands gripping the headboard, his pants and underwear down to his knees.

“Absolutely.” You confirmed, with a shudder of excitement.

“Very well.” His voice was low, revealing just how badly he wanted this too. He placed a hand on your knee and followed the path all the way up to your core. He could feel the wetness and warmth coming from your center, begging for his attention. He traced the slit between your legs a few times, making you gasp with anticipation. Then, he pushed a finger passed your entrance, your whimper resounding in his ears. He moved his hand in a back and forth motion, not really aiming to pleasure you this way but trying to memorize a path he couldn’t see.

He took his finger out, bringing his hand back to his impatient cock. He wiped your wetness over his tip, mixing it with the fresh drops of precum that coated his skin. Once most of his hard length was slick and sticky, he brought his tip exactly where his finger had been, rubbing it between your wet folds to gather even more moisture before finally pushing it inside you. He heard you gasp loudly and he did too, the tightness of your cunt taking him by surprise.

He easlily managed to slide even deeper, burying his entire length inside of you with a satisfied sigh. He could hear your panting breaths, your soft cries in reaction to his movements inside you and the way you moaned his name, encouraging him to rock his hips against yours a few times.

It was nothing like he had thought it would be. His hand had never made him feel as good as you did, your warmth, wetness and tightness around him were intoxicating. The most wonderful thing he had ever experienced.

He slowly pulled himself almost all the way out, only to shove himself back in with more force. He could feel his tip hitting deep inside you, pleasure building in his abdomen with each of his quick pushes.

The sounds you made were music to his ears, the way you reacted to each of his thrusts was delightful, better than what he had imagined in his most vivid fantasies. He never expected you to be so loud, perfectly showing him how good he was making you feel. He increased his speed and you moaned even louder, practically crying out his name.

He felt your legs closing around his waist, keeping him close while your nails dug into his back, the whole bed shaking in rythym with his movements. Was he too rough ? How could he not be ? It was impossible to be more gentle when the pleasure he felt with each thrust kept intensifying, he was going to lose his mind, chasing the feeling, building it up until he couldn’t take it anymore.

You cried out one more time and your body tensed up, tightening around him so viciously that he finally reached his climax, instantly filling you up with his release. You kept your legs around him, your body spasming with intense pleasure as he struggled to catch his breath for a moment, his thoughts slowly coming back into order.

He waited until your body stopped twitching to remove himself, feeling your shudder as he pulled his spent erection out of you. You still were softly panting, your chest rising and falling under his hand while the other still clasped tightly the headboard. He leaned over, easily finding your lips from which breathless gasps still escaped. He kissed you, gently, as a way to apologize for losing control of himself and felt relieved when you returned his kiss even more fervently.

He moved to his side, lying down next to you to give you enough space to catch your breath but you inched closer, nuzzling your naked body against his in a cuddle that felt even more intimate than what he had just did to you.

“Thank you.” You said softly, sounding truly happy. Ominis smiled, his fingers absently caressing your back, playing with strands of your now messy hair. “I’m glad to have you as my husband.”

Husband. The word turned in his head, reminding him that you now were officially a couple. Mrs Ominis Gaunt; his best friend, his wife, his lover… His.

(( Masterlist ))

Next in this series;

[cravingcoldoreocake123]

Birds of a feather - SMAU

ur.username

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tagged dracopurebl0od, nottheonott, mattheo.r, enzo_berkshire, fwpansy, tomriddle_, whosblaise

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Edit 📸 thanks to whosblaise

mattheo.r

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whosblaise trynna be like them ahaha fwpansy i will literally kill you whosblaise mb 💔

[incorrectquotesharrypotterv]

Y/n: I don’t really like people, but you’re okay, I guess.

Theo: I'm your boyfriend.

Y/n: Huh, so that's why.

Theo:

[slytherinslut0]

tom riddle. | everyone has their vices

summary: tom riddle tells you he jerks off (and more) to relieve stress. just….in typical tom fashion.

word count: 2k

tags: 18+, suggestive content, so much tension you’ll choke on it, frustrating subliminal tom riddle (though reader is just as stubborn), flirting, masturbation insinuation, make out sesh.

"But how?”

Tom inhaled sharply, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he prepared to reexplain for what felt like the hundredth time. "Because, the slightest distraction or doubt can result in consequence—as I said previous. A momentary lapse in any of the areas we covered will result in splinching."

You blinked, staring at him like he'd spoken an alternate language. The late night and the relentless focus on Tom's face for the past four hours had blurred everything into a haze and dulled his voice into a monotonous hum, blending with the soft rustle of parchment and the distant lapping of the lake against the window. He could see it—your disconnection, the way his words slipped past you like water through fingers.

He exhaled, slumping back in his chair, a hand raking through his dark hair in frustration. "Should we call it a night?"

"Probably," you muttered, your gaze drifting to the window behind him, the surface of the Black Lake rippling under the moonlight. "You've overloaded my brain. I stopped comprehending two hours ago."

You felt Tom's eyes narrow slightly as he studied you—you must have looked a mess. Strands of hair had fallen out of your ponytail, your uniform shirt was half undone, and there was a dullness in your eyes that spoke of more than just exhaustion. A week bedridden with the flu had set you back, and now, despite Tom's best efforts, you felt like you were drowning.

He knew you were stressed beyond measure—you were normally not like this.

"You need to relax," he said, the words landing with the flatness of an undisputed fact. "You won't retain anything in the state you're in."

"How can I relax when I'm two weeks behind? And exams are next week?" Your voice cracked with the weight of your frustration as you leaned your elbows on his desk, burying your face in your hands. "I'm helpless, Tom. I know you know it."

"Would I be sitting here wasting my time if I thought you were helpless?" He watched you, almost clinical in his intensity as he spoke—tone matter-of-factly, devoid of any false comfort. It cut through your despair with ease. Tom Riddle never did anything without purpose; if he was here, it meant he believed you were worth the effort. "My suggestion is that you reset your brain," he continued, his voice steady like his fingers as he shut the textbook between you. "Take a walk. Have a cold shower. Jump in the lake. Whatever you need to do to decompress."

The simplicity of his suggestions almost made you laugh, but it was the kind of laughter that would easily turn into tears if you let it. Tom had a way of stripping everything down to its most basic form—of cutting through your stress and chaos and presenting you with a simple, unvarnished answer.

You were a mess, and he was telling you to fix it—no coddling, no pity, just a clear-eyed assessment of the situation. And somehow, that was exactly what you needed to hear. You appreciated him for it.

"Decompress, huh. I don't believe I've ever done such a thing." You leaned back in your chair with a lopsided grin, arms crossed. "Is that what you do? Jump in the lake?"

Tom let out a huff, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in what was almost—almost—a smile.

"Something like that."

Interesting—Tom Riddle, always so composed, every inch of him meticulously put together, as if the mere idea of stress was a foreign concept. You couldn't imagine him spiralling, not the way you did—frankly, you couldn't imagine him ever feeling overwhelmed at all.

The curiosity gnawed at you, wondering what he did to unwind—what rituals or habits did the untouchable Tom Riddle indulge in when no one was watching?

"Something else, then?" You pushed it further, gently, your eyebrow arching just slightly.

For a moment, his gaze flickered, something dark and inscrutable passing behind his eyes. You knew he was considering your words, debating whether to indulge your curiosity or keep you at arm's length. Such a fascinating creature he was—all brick walls and boarded windows—you had a feeling he was going to shut this down.

Until, he leaned forward.

"If you're asking if I have habits—I suppose I do," he said, your eyes drawn to the way his lips moved, the way his voice curled around each syllable. "Habitual things I do to—relax, let's say."

You hummed and pulled your lower lip between your teeth as you considered him—fighting to hide your amusement. That was the biggest personal moment you've had out of Tom Riddle since the day you met him in first year where he told you his name.

"Well, isn't that a revelation," you teased, toying with the edge of your skirt. "Just the mere insinuation that Tom Riddle has to do something to relax—as though he's not always cool, calm, and collected like he lets on."

His lips curled slightly at your words, his gaze dipping briefly from your eyes to your mouth, trailing lower in a slow, deliberate sweep that brushed over your chest before landing back on the desk.

Your brain buffered, tingles in the wake of his wrath. He picked up his quill, spinning it idly between his fingers. 

"Everyone has their vices—if they don't, they end up like you," he said, his tone laced with an ambiguity that made you wonder just how deep his ran. "Perhaps it's time you found some."

You scoffed, leaning further back in your chair, the fabric of your shirt pulling tighter across your chest. You forced yourself to ignore the visceral reaction your body had as you caught the brief flicker in Tom’s gaze—the way his eyes darted up to the movement before he quickly masked his expression.

For a moment, you thought you might be imagining things, but the tensing of your thighs betrayed a reaction you couldn't quite shake.

"And what are yours?" You asked after a moment, your voice softer now. Tom Riddle was many things, but he was not a conversationalist—and yet here he was, indulging your curiosity instead of shutting it down. He was humouring you, and you intended to make the most of it. "Decompressing with bland tea and ancient tomes? Sneaking into the Restricted Section when no one's looking?"

“Mm, no.” Tom let out a snort, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips— "I’d say my vices are less...pedestrian, than all that."

The quill in his fingers stilled—the change in his demeanour was subtle, though you felt it in the air—electric, making your pulse quicken. He traced the edge of the feather with the tip of his thumb, the motion slow and deliberate, and you found yourself inexplicably distracted, fighting the urge to shift in your seat.

Why in Merlin's name was that so damn captivating?

"Less pedestrian?" You echoed, curiosity at an all-time-high. "What do you do, then, Tom? Dance naked by the light of the full moon?"

"I should hope not," he laughed—a low, rumbling sound that resonated in the pit of your stomach as you giggled alongside him. The quill twirled again in his fingers, the motion languid, almost hypnotic. "No, I'd say my vices are more...private. Less suited to polite company. Perhaps I should let you guess since the mystery of it seems to fascinate you so."

The look he gave you made you stiffen, a challenge—no, a dare—clear in his deep, dark eyes. Your thighs involuntarily reacted again—less suited to polite company?

"I believe I've already made several guesses," you tried to compose yourself with a shallow inhale. "I'm quite at a loss."

He shook his head, stifling his grin. "Clearly, you lack imagination."

"Clearly, you enjoy being cryptic." You shot back, unable to stifle yours.

At that, he hummed—it was obvious your stubbornness was as entertaining to him as it was aggravating. Perhaps you could say the same. He set the quill down, his eyes on yours as the fingers of his free hand began to tap idly on the desk—and then his gaze dipped again, tracing the curve of your lips before drifting lower, a slow, deliberate path that made you tense.

For a moment, you wondered if the tension in the air was all in your head. Was he always this adventurous with his eyes?

"When the mind is under strain," he began, his voice smooth, clinical, "it's a result of an excessive influx of neural signals. Synapses misfire, disrupting cognitive function. A basic physiological response." He watched your reaction closely, as though gauging the impact of his words. "To address such a state, one must reestablish control over these neural pathways. To be direct, I find the most efficacious methods involve tasks that stimulate the senses without being emotionally or physically taxing. A simple, repetitive action can suffice—something arbitrary enough to encourage the subconscious to lose focus."

You fought the urge to scowl at his change in speech—Tom knew damn-well just how overwhelmed your brain was—and then continued to recite scientific jargon as if it were his full-time occupation.

You’d almost be mad if it weren’t for the fucking words that stuck to the inside of your ears—stimulate, repetitive, lose focus—

"You're a walking textbook, aren't you?" You continued to play it off—you didn't want to make assumptions—you hated the way he danced around the edges of things, never quite saying what he meant. "Be specific."

Tom's grin grew as he leaned in slightly, his fingers stilling on the desk between you. "I find tasks that involve the hands particularly useful. Something that can be repeated in a smooth, steady rhythm, with little conscious thought required. The ability to lose oneself in the pattern is key."

Merlin help you—the atmosphere in his dorm had changed with those words; the air turned viscous, cloying, each breath sticking in your throat like syrup—hands, steady rhythm, lose oneself—the words pulsed with implication, even if it was buried under layers of his typical, infuriating ambiguity.

He was absolutely referring to—no—no assumptions—

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. "So...knitting?"

The words tumbled out, a weak attempt at humour to cut through the tension, but they hung lifeless in the air—as hollow as the chuckle that rumbled from Tom's chest.

His eyes traced over you, lingering in a way that made your skin prickle. "Not exactly."

"Hm. A different kind of needlecraft, perhaps." You shifted in your seat, trying to inject a semblance of nonchalance into your posture.

But you weren't fooling him—you never had—

"How much longer are you going to play coy?" He murmured, the amusement clear from light-years away.

Heat surged up your neck, the flush burning across your cheeks, betraying you—"how much longer are you going to continue holding your tongue?"

Your voice came out sharper than intended, laced with a challenge you barely felt capable of meeting. You and Tom had always been cordial, the slight suggestive comment here and there, mostly from your end. But this—oh, this was different—this was uncharted territory.

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr. "Would you prefer I do something else with it?"

Oh, fuck yes you would—

"You're being obtuse," you practically choked out, though the words lacked the bite you intended. "Entirely vague."

"I'm being clear," he countered, his gaze never wavering. "But you're being obstinate—willfully ignorant to my meaning because you refuse to acknowledge it without me saying it outright."

The air between you dissipated—you tried to grasp for a coherent thought, something to regain your footing, but your mind faltered, stumbling over the implications of what he was saying. His eyes never left yours—and you watched them deepen in colour, black pupils eating away the rich brown of his irises, darkening with something that made the room feel unbearably small.

You could feel the heat rising in your body, pooling low in your belly. How did he do this to you? How did he turn you inside out with nothing more than words and that infuriating, knowing smile?

"Tell me," you breathed, hating how desperate the words sounded, "what do you do with your hands, Tom?...how do you use them to relieve...stress?"

The second those words left your lips you realized what was truly happening here—Tom Riddle never did anything without intent—every word, every pause, every smirk, was a thread in a web he was weaving, intricate and inescapable. He'd led you here, gently, subtly, with the barest hint of force, and now that you were caught, you realized that you wanted this.

Needed it.

And it was clear he did too. Otherwise you'd never have gotten to this point—he wanted you to push, to dig deeper—your stomach twisting as you watched Tom wet his lips, but there was no smirk on them this time.

Only something intense—jaw set, eyes focused—

"I think we both know what I do with my hands," he whispered, the double entendre clear in every syllable— "you knew exactly what I was insinuating the moment this started."

Your breath snagged in your throat, a tremor running through your entire body as the warmth pooling in your belly began to spread, sinking lower, threading through every nerve. Your vision narrowed, centering entirely on him—his eyes, the curve of his lips, the way his presence seemed to devour the room, leaving no space for anything else.

And then, you nodded, the movement barely there—a subtle acknowledgment of your understanding.

"Do you touch yourself, Tom?..." the words escaped you, a soft, breathy whisper that you could hardly believe were your own. "Or do you touch someone else?"

For a heartbeat, everything seemed to freeze, suspended in the intensity of those questions.

The world narrowed to the point of his gaze, the sharp line of his jaw—the reality of where you were, what you were doing, almost seemed to blur—trapping you both in a moment that felt surreal, like a scene caught in the still frame of a film. Never—never—had you imagined a conversation like this with Tom Riddle, hardly your acquaintance, the untouchable genius of the school.

And yet here you were, heart pounding, every nerve on fire, and Merlin help you, you were going to wring every drop of this out for as long as you could.

He swallowed, and you watched the movement, entranced. "Depends on my level of stress."

Tom's expression was unreadable—except for the subtle tension in his shoulders as he leaned back, spreading his legs a fraction wider, the fabric of his dress shirt straining against the flex of his biceps—

"...and how stressed are you right now?" You whispered, reckless, without a trace of restraint.

Tom's throat bobbed with another swallow, a gesture so simple yet so charged that it sent your pulse roaring in your ears.

"Quite," he murmured, his voice taut, stretched thin. "The past four hours have been rather taxing—wouldn't you agree?”

A nervous laugh bubbled up, escaping before you could stop it. You tried to steady yourself, drawing in a slow, shaky breath. You had never felt so intensely aroused and frustrated in your life, and you knew, without a bloody doubt, that he was perfectly aware of it.

"Are you trying to imply l'm the cause of your stress?"

"On the contrary," he said, his gaze raking over you, his eyes dark and hungry, as if you were something to be consumed, devoured whole. "I'm saying you've exacerbated it. Though I'll concede a fair share of the responsibility—as it is mine, after all."

"How kind of you," you whispered, voice trembling with the effort to maintain composure. "To admit your own fault in the matter."

"I'm a kind man." His voice was a low purr, the kind that seeped into your bones, making your blood thrum with anticipation. "I like to take responsibility for my shortcomings."

Yes, yes—so very kind—

"Then take it."

The words left your mouth before you could second-guess them, a challenge thrown into the thick, suffocating air between you. The tension was a living thing now, colled tight, ready to snap, turning your insides into a churning mess of want and need.

Tom arched an eyebrow.

"Take it?" He echoed. "And what exactly do you want me to take, sweetheart?"

Sweetheart.

The pet name rolled off his tongue with a casual ease that sent a flush of heat straight to your core— the simple word wielded like a weapon, striking you down with its intimacy. There was no denying the power that name held over you, especially when coming from his lips.

"The responsibility..." you whispered, the words trembling as they left you, barely more than a breath. "…for your..." you hesitated, your eyes locked onto his as you finally said, "…shortcomings."

For a moment, everything hung in the balance—until, oxygen extinct, Tom leaned forward, closing the space between you until he was so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, mingling with your own.

Curse this fucking desk between you.

"My shortcomings," he repeated, his eyes flicking to your lips. "Is that all I should take responsibility for?"

"Are you suggesting..." you leaned in as well, the distance between you shrinking to a breath—your gaze drawn to his own mouth—the plush of it, how bad you wanted to feel it against yours, "...there's something else you wish to take responsibility for?"

Said mouth curled into the faintest hint of a smile and witnessing the shift this close felt dangerously religious—as though you'd experienced something sacred not many have before—part of you knew you did.

"Many things," he whispered, the sound soft as velvet, dangerous as a blade. "The list is long and varied..."

The heat in your body was painful—you had never been this close to him, never felt the full weight of his presence bearing down on you like this. His cologne—faint, rich, and so distinctly Tom—overwhelmed you, the same scent he'd worn since you first met him.

It was infuriating, how everything he did was so subtle, simple—yet so fucking intoxicating, so irresistible.

"...I'm not quite sure where to start." His eyes flicked back to yours.

Every word that fell from his lips was a new form of torture, his dark eyes pinning you in place, searing into you. The heat radiating from his body made you want to retreat, to find air, to find space—but the thought of putting any distance between you was unbearable, the need to be near him overriding everything else.

You'd rather lose consciousness than pull back.

"Why don't you start..." you whispered, tilting your head, your teeth grazing your bottom lip. "By fixing the insatiable ache in my curiosity...the one you created when you mentioned how you use your hands...to relieve stress..."

He exhaled, the sound rumbling from his chest like a growl and you could almost imagine that if he parted his lips, you'd glimpse fangs behind them right now—you'd never seen him like this—his gaze predatory, fucking ravenous, and it was as though he could devour you whole if he so chose to.

But you knew better. Tom Riddle would never be so crude. His methods of torment were deliberate—Methodical. A slow depletion of your senses until you're gasping for something only he can give you.

Then, in a voice that was all gravel and silk, he whispered, "is that all that's aching...your...curiosity?"

"Gods no—"

But you never finished that thought—because in an instant, his hand was tangled in your hair, pulling you forward with a force that sent you careening over the desk and into him—Tom Riddles lips crashed against yours, and it was like drowning, his tongue invading your mouth, stealing your breath and dragging all ounces of your cognitive ability along with it.

You were half out of your chair, caught in the gravity of him, unsure if your legs were even working, or if it was his grip alone that held you upright. His free hand found your wrist, pinning it to the desk as his mouth worked you with a fervour that made your head spin. The kiss was incendiary, a wildfire scorching its way through every nerve in your body, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake—the intensity of it, the sheer, unrelenting pressure of his lips on yours, made you wonder how you survived this long without it.

All the heat in your blood pooled low, deep between your thighs, an ache so profound it threatened to consume you. Tom Riddle was about to show you precisely how he used his hands to relieve stress, and Gods, if that wasn’t the only thing you’d ever needed right now.