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thefaefiction · 1 year ago

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In Too Deep. [Tom Hiddleston x Reader]

PAIRING: Tom Hiddleston x Reader GENRE: Smut !! WARNINGS: Age gap, teacher x student relationship, smut, daddy kink, praise, piv sex, choking, degradation if you squint, aftercare, fem!reader, written with a chubbier reader in mind but it's not obvious, also the beginning is rushed SUMMARY: After developing an intense relationship with your English professor Mr. Hiddleston, you both are in too deep to let it go to waste.

A/N: im not gonna lie i had no clue how to actually begin this fic because it's literally just an excuse for me to indulge in my delusions so sorry that the first couple paragraphs are weird and rushed </3 also the school email domain is fake idk if it's real don't pay attention to it LMAO

Your obsession with your English professor was no secret to your friends. Elio, your long term best friend and dormmate, has had to interrupt you from your delusions on more than one occasion which was already one too many -- whether that be purposefully failing a paper to see him after class, wearing a skirt far too short and dropping a pencil in a calculated manner in front of him, or staring at him a little too intently during lectures -- it was becoming a problem.

In the professor's multiple classes of forty-some-odd students, there really were only a few that were delusional enough to believe they could sleep with their teacher. The difference between you and them was that you were patient with your actions and the effects it had on him.

Ultimately your patience paid off, as one Friday you received an ominous email with the heading titled 'Make-up Work' from a particular '[email protected].' In the details, he simply requested your presence at a disclosed location only ten minutes from campus on Sunday. It was not an office nor a dorm, but a house.

It wasn't long before his intentions were made clear when you arrived; his eyes dark with lust and a half buttoned shirt upon opening the door.

"(Y/N)," He welcomed, cocking his head and shutting the door behind you. "Lovely to see you."

"Pleasure's mine," You reply, never breaking eye contact. You slide your coat off and he takes it in his hands, hanging it up for you. You knew where the night was going to end -- inviting a student to talk not just outside of office hours, but in the professor's home, is not something usual.

"I thought we could discuss an appropriate way to help get your grade back up in my class," He begins. His eyes look down for a moment, observing your obviously risqué attire. "Do you have an idea as to what way that might be?"

He was going to make you say it. There was no way around it. Still, you decided to entertain his antics until it was made painfully and obviously clear he was trying to get you to say what you know he wants you to say.

"I think," You start, voice beginning to shake. The confidence you had starting this endeavor was suddenly challenged. "I think one-on-one time is certainly needed." You press your lips together in a line.

He hums, taking an agonizing step closer. He looks down into your eyes, furrowing his brows and letting out a soft laugh. "I'm not dumb, (Y/N)," he retorts. "I know you're a smart girl. You're excellent, actually -- some of the best writing from all of my classes combined." The professor stops, taking a step back to his original position. "So why are you really here?"

A moment of silence.

"You know why," You sheepishly croak out.

"Flatter me by saying it, then." He raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms and waiting for you to speak.

"I want you to fuck me."

With the words already said, there was no going back. Your chest sunk, a feeling of embarrassment creeping up and beginning to eat away at your skin. All of those feelings were put to rest the second your professor spoke: "Was that so hard to ask, love?"

Professor Hiddleston turned on his heel, two fingers signaling you to follow him like a lost puppy. He led you down a long hallway in painful silence, finally twisting the knob to a door that revealed his bedroom. It was sleek and clean, covered in shades of black and gray with no mess dared to be left out.

He shut the door behind you and immediately began unbuttoning his shirt, holding your gaze with his light eyes. "Quickly," He commented. "I don't like waiting."

Your face flushed, embarrassed at his demand. You looked away and lifted the hem of your shirt-

"You will look at me," He orders, finishing the last button. "With how bold you are in my classroom I would've thought you'd take more control," He pokes, smirking. "Who would've thought you're just a shy little girl desperate for attention from her professor?"

Your thighs squeezed together, you're sure it doesn't go unnoticed as he grins the moment it occurs. You lift your top off as he watches, simultaneously beginning to unbuckle his belt. The sound makes you shiver.

"Good girl," He praises. You shiver in response.

As he tosses his belt to the side, you begin sliding your skirt off, letting it fall to the ground and pool at your feet. Your professor mimics with his slacks, walking closer and caressing your cheek. "Bed."

You obey, laying down on his duvet as he crawls up your body, sending shivers down your spine. "Professor-"

"Tom," He corrects. "No need for formalities at this point, yes?"

You blush before continuing. "Tom, are you sure?"

"I've been sure since the first time you tried to tease me in class," He replies. "I don't think you understand that I think about you every fucking night in my bed, about the things I would do if I were just able to have you."

You smile, your confidence returning almost instantly. "You have me, sir."

Tom grunts in the back of his throat, his body towering over you as he tears your underwear off, the cracking of the seams startling you. Immediately his hands find your sex, running his hands over it and around your thighs. His hands diligently run under your back, you arch, giving him easier access to remove your bra.

"God, you're stunning," He whispers before connecting his lips to yours. He pulls on your face, his teeth making contact with your lips and bruising their pink color in moments. As he pulls away, a string of saliva connects your mouths and you squirm beneath him.

Tom sits up and begins removing his boxers. The tent in them is noticeable -- and horrifying. You can tell he's big even without seeing it.

Not like you've thought about it before, though.

Now completely undressed, he puts his hands under your waist and drags you forward with a grunt. His hands dig at the fat of your hips and travel along your plush thighs, a moan escaping your lips as his fingers dance on your skin.

"Does my little girl need her professor's cock?" Tom provokes, sliding his shaft between your folds -- up and down, up and down, up and down.

You whine, nodding eagerly in hopes to get him to just put it in already, but your meek noise wasn't good enough for him. "Use your big girl words, darling." He puts his thumb and pointer finger against your chin, urging you to look at him him; eyes burning through your skull.

"Daddy," You spit out too quick, back arching. "Please, need you inside of me so bad!" The sheer volume of your pleas and the new title takes Tom aback, yet his cock ached with every sultry word you spoke.

"Good girl," He praises, grinning at you beneath him. You watch as he inserts himself, pressing just the head into your heat. You let out a guttural moan, eyebrows furrowing in a lovely mix of pain and pleasure. He begins slowly easing himself into you further, inch by agonizing inch, until he completely bottoms out; releasing a groan as his head lolls back. "God, you feel so good princess," He praises, "Taking me so so well, yeah?"

His words struck a chord within you, forcing a smile on your face. You whimper, brain not being able to form a complete thought at how deep he was inside you and how just damn good it felt. He was much bigger than anyone you'd taken before by a longshot. Your walls clenched around him and he laughed, cock twitching inside of you. He slowly slides back, leaving just the head in, and then pushes forward quickly, earning a loud, needy, moan from your lips. "Look at you, so drunk on me, hm?" He says, pulling back and then ramming himself deep into you, bruising your cervix. "Tell me what you want, doll. What is it you need from daddy?" He teases, never averting his eyes from your gaze.

"Please," You whine, "Need you to to move, need daddy to make me come!" And without hesitation, he picks up the pace, rapidly fucking you while his hands grip the headboard. You can hear it hitting the wall, and suddenly you're glad he has a house instead of an apartment. The noises you're making are obscene, something any practiced Catholic would need to cross themselves after hearing. "Feels so good daddy!" You spit, earning a groan from him.

Tom turned almost animalistic during sex; his grunts sounding more and more like growls as he fucks you brainless. "Fuck!" He moans, taking a hand off of the wood above you. He quickly puts his free hand on your throat, squeezing and forcing your eyes to meet his once again. "Like being choked by daddy, yeah? Like daddy to make you feel powerless, hm?" He smirks, observing the visual pleasure and shock on your face.

You're so close, you can feel yourself on the verge of your orgasm, and his dirty talk was pushing you even closer. The hand on your throat squeezed, and you clenched down on him, causing Tom to curse under his breath. "Want your cum daddy," You squeak out, "Pleasepleaseplease!" You mumble in strands of pleasure.

"Feel so good," He praises. "Come for me, be a good girl and come for daddy, yeah?" He was fucking you hard, and fast, and he still managed to pick up the pace. His skin slapped against your skin, filling the room with hard smacks and grunts and moans; endless strings of 'daddy' and 'good girl' running from both of your lips.

"Want you inside me daddy," You choke out. Your head lolls to the side and bounces against the pillow, a lazy smile forming on your face. "P-please!" You whine.

That pushed Tom over the edge. He was too far lost in himself, leaning down and growling into your ear. "Ask and you shall receive," he teases.

As if on cue, you both come together, the wave of pleasure rushing over you both. You could feel his warmth filling you up, leaking down your heat and spilling onto his bed. "Fuck, Y/n!" He grunts, "Took me so so well little girl."

You couldn't think, let alone speak. Tom stayed inside of you, helping you ride out your orgasm, not wanting the feeling of your sweet sex to leave him. He took his hand off of your throat and stroked the site, soothing the redness with a sultry kiss. You hummed in response, letting your body fall limp. After a few moments, he pulled out.

About three things Tom was absolutely certain: One, he should’ve never become romantically entangled with one of his students. Two, engaging in this behavior put his entire career in jeopardy due to it being wildly illegal. Three, he was, without a doubt in his mind, unconditionally in love with everything about you.

As you laid on his chest, foreheads drenched in sweat and bodies stuck together, you felt more at home than you'd like to admit. One hand messaged your back, drawing figure-eights on your skin, and the other pet your hair, occasionally drawing his lips close to kiss the top of your head. You burrowed your head into him, clinging onto his body. He grinned.

"I should've never let it go this far," Tom said, his voice raspy and deep with post-sex clarity, "but I'm afraid I'm in too deep to give it up now." He let out a low laugh, your head bouncing with his chest.

You smiled. "I'm afraid I wouldn't have been able to return to normal after this," You commented, "and, well, not to be dramatic but having sex with your professor twice your age does things to you." Tom chuckled, looking down at you and tilting your head up to meet his eyes.

"This is all so wrong," He mumbled, furrowing his eyebrows and pressing his lips together, "And yet I wouldn't have it any other way." He pressed a kiss to your lips, the kind of kiss that left a permanent stain of love and lust on your mouth. It was deep, meaningful, and romantic. Tom stared at you, taking in your features and basking in each and every one. "You are breathtaking, darling."

You hid your face in his neck, attempting to suppress the toothy grin you'd almost shown him, however he pulls your head up with his pointer finger and thumb, admiring your rosy cheeks. "Poor baby, so sensitive to my compliments," He jests, letting out a low hum.

You roll your eyes at him. "It's not my fault that daddy somehow knows all of the words that light a fire in me," You emphasize on the word 'daddy,' which forces what sounded like a groan from the back of his throat. "I don't want to go," You admit, falling back into his embrace.

"I know love," He says calmly, stroking your hair and pulling you into him tight. "We can stay like this as long as you'd like, but eventually I'll have to bring you back."

You hum into just chest. "Just a little bit longer," you say to Tom. "I'm still recovering."

⟡

When you arrived back at your dorm, much later than you anticipated, Elio looked at you with an eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face. "Back so soon?"

"Shut up," You laughed, dropping your bag to the ground and kicking off your shoes. You wobbled into the dorm, legs still sore and threatening your balance. Clearly Elio had noticed this, as the first thing he said after greeting you was "Well aren't your movements suspicious," and your cheeks flushed red. "I do not need to explain my late night endeavors and my later night actions," You began, "But,"

"But..?" Elio lead, leaning forward in his seat.

"But." You ended, pressing your lips together with a hidden grin and nodding your head.

"No!" He gasped, smiling widely and clasping his hands, putting his chin on the top of his fingers. "Please tell me everything! Not that I need to know the gory details of your sex life but, like, was he..?" Elio put his hands in front of him, fingers forward, and spread his arms apart.

"Shut up!" You giggled, swatting his hands. "But yes. Yes he was. Very."

"I knew it." He said, shaking his head. "I knew he was packing."

"Not to ruin our gossip but I need to lay down with a heating pad or something because standing is hurting my body," You laughed. "I think that man busted my cervix."

"Okay, TMI," He said, rolling his eyes. "But honestly go get some rest, lord knows you need it for seeing him tomorrow."

You were confused at first, then realized that tomorrow you had Tom for English, and you had absolutely no idea how you were supposed to face him when the night before he had you moaning 'daddy' and railed you into oblivion. But that was an issue you could deal with tomorrow. Probably. Hopefully.

#🍇 -- thefaefiction!#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #teacher x reader #professor x reader #smut #tom hiddleston smut #plus size reader #tom hiddleston x plus size reader #professor!tom hiddleston #teacher!tom hiddleston #x reader smut

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incorrecthatchetfield · 1 year ago

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Tom, teaching shop class: You alright?

Ethan, holding a drill upside down: Yeah, I'm fine, Dad.

Tom, taking the drill away: Ethan, don't ever call me Dad again.

Ethan to Lex: How'd you think he'll feel about Mom?

Lex: Let me know when you're going to do that so I can run.

#source: criminal minds #im writing my own aus at this point #i love teacher tom houston #incorrect quotes #starkid #incorrect starkid #hatchetfield #incorrect hatchetfield #hatchetverse #incorrect blackfriday #starkid black friday #black friday musical #ethan green #tom houston #lex foster

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bumblingbabooshka · 17 days ago

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I hate when Chakotay is watered down to be Janeway's yes man because their disagreements are actually very interesting. [A lot of rambling analysis of this debate in particular below]

Chakotay in Parallax is very interesting in that he has to navigate a lot of different dynamics. Balance a lot of plates while being watched keenly by everyone around him. Immediately preceding this scene we see him ask B'Elanna for her opinion on the bridge - both as a chance to show her knowledge in his bid to make her chief engineer (because she wouldn't get a chance to otherwise as Janeway has clearly indicated that at this point she views B'Elanna as a troublemaker who won't be considered for the position) and because he just thinks she's a better engineer than Carey and wants the best possible chance of them succeeding. Janeway sees this as unacceptable. Carey is the chief engineer and so he should be called and Chakotay NOT asking for his opinion is an insult to Carey, Janeway, and might make the crew doubt Chakotay (and by extension the Maquis') loyalty to the Starfleet crew.

At this point it seems that to Janeway integration ["They're not your people"] means the path of least resistance, specifically tailored towards the Starfleet crew. She wants Chakotay by her side to keep the Maquis crew calm but also seems unwilling to consider them for important positions aboard the ship. Though she says that the Maquis are not Chakotay's people, not his crew, she certainly doesn't seem to consider them hers [Compare this to later instances where she stresses 'our' crew, here she simply says they aren't Chakotay's: Whose crew are they? Are they crew at all?]. This less leaves the impression of "We need to be a cohesive team" and more "You're not in charge here." She essentially accuses Chakotay of playing favorites. In her mind Chakotay's actions are not conducive to integrating the crews which would (again, in her mind) mean the Maquis being docile and accepting, obedient and content - not making trouble for the Starfleet crew. Chakotay counters Janeway's accusation with one of his own: That he IS trying to integrate them into the crew but her not allowing the Maquis any opportunity to prove themselves or succeed, not showing any trust in any of them (except, implicitly at this point, him) is making things difficult. At this point the Maquis crew are ready to mutiny on his word at any time. He knows this for a fact. Aside from that looming threat (the threat being that tensions are high and if nothing changes and they remain high there might be a mutiny even without his word) - Chakotay knows these people and trusts them. Though Starfleet and Janeway think of the Maquis as a violent bunch of criminal terrorists, Chakotay and a good number of the Maquis joined because they believed in the cause they were fighting for. These are people Chakotay knows WILL fight fiercely for what they believe in and conversely, AGAINST what they perceive as injustice. Even if they're not in the majority - they're used to picking fights which seem impossible to win. At this point Janeway admits that she ISN'T making it easy for Chakotay to integrate the Maquis - specifically talking about practical concerns; how she doesn't feel she can let Maquis crew have roles of importance on the ship because they lack the ability to hold them. "They don't have the discipline, they don't have the training," - asserting that they just aren't prepared for any such roles and it doesn't have to do with them being Maquis specifically. Ostensibly, she's treating them as she might treat anyone unqualified for the job.

Chakotay maintains that some of them, like B'Elanna, have the ability to be trained - challenging her point by saying that IF they're trained there's no reason for any Maquis member NOT to be given a more prominent role on the ship. He isn't suggesting they just unqualified people important jobs. If the problem is that they aren't trained, let's train them. These people have the ability to succeed if you give them the tools they need and a fair chance, he insists. Janeway then switches gears and her argument becomes not "The Maquis are untrained so they can't be given those jobs" but "The Maquis crew are unworthy of those jobs when compared to Starfleet personnel" saying that it'll cause insult and upset among the Starfleet crew if any member of the Maquis were to be promoted above them. Again, her idea of integration is based more on Maquis subservience to the Starfleet crew than it is the two crews working together. (Not that I believe she looks at it that way, it's just where her 'path of least resistance' leads) - though she accuses Chakotay of being too focused on "his" crew, she is admitting here that she believes her real crew are the Starfleet officers aboard, not the Maquis. She also admits here that the system she wishes to maintain (and is asking Chakotay to enforce) is one where there will ostensibly never be any chance of a Maquis crew member being promoted because no Maquis crew member will ever be more qualified, more worthy, than a member of Starfleet. We can see how it'd be difficult for Chakotay to convince his crew to remain calm under these circumstances. There's also Tuvok's behavior toward him at the beginning of the episode where the Vulcan nearly goes over Chakotay's head and when he doesn't do so (as Chakotay reminds him that HE'S the superior officer, the First Officer in fact,) Tuvok acts as if him backing down (partially) and conceding (partially) to Chakotay's authority is a favor to Chakotay.

Tuvok in this conversation is downright insubordinate to Chakotay. Despite Chakotay being the first officer, he doesn't take what he says seriously, argues that his own opinion on what should be done should be followed rather than Chakotay's, lectures the first officer about his conduct, and then almost seems to threaten him with a report. In Starfleet's rigidly hierarchical rules, acting like this to a superior officer (ESPECIALLY the first officer) wouldn't be tolerated and Tuvok knows this perfectly well. He isn't a rebellious character and clearly in other episodes adheres to these Starfleet hierarchies and codes of conduct very strictly. He values them highly. But Chakotay, a Maquis, shouldn't be First Officer. Why should he be given respect for a title he didn't earn? [Affirming Janeway's argument about how Starfleet officers won't be eager to follow a Maquis senior officer] Even though Chakotay tells Tuvok off for it ["I don't have to explain myself to you"] he doesn't threaten to put Tuvok on report or explicitly mention his insubordination. It's unclear if this is Chakotay's personality or if he just doesn't feel he CAN do that. Tuvok is one of the three most senior officers aboard and very close to Janeway. Chakotay has to think of the optics of any situation at all times - we see seconds after this conversation that rumors have already started swirling around B'Elanna being relegated to quarters that've fanned the flames of mutiny. Though we know Tuvok has personal reasons for behaving the way he does toward Chakotay (which he later admits), I really don't think it'd be out of the ordinary for this to be how most Starfleet personnel would treat the Maquis if they weren't outright hostile: Like they're only pretend crewmen. To a lesser extent we even see this with Janeway: In the following staff meeting, she clearly doesn't consider B'Elanna a viable option when Chakotay brings her up and almost ignores the suggestion entirely.

It also, again, leaves Chakotay in an impossible position. If he doesn't protect and fight for the Maquis crew, they won't ever be considered a true part of the crew and dissatisfaction will likely spread among them. Dissatisfaction which the Starfleet crew will then use to further label the Maquis as insubordinate, uncontrollable, unfit. Not to mention that if he doesn't advocate for them, he might lose their trust. However, if he DOES try to help the Maquis crew advance the Starfleet crew will view this as 'favoritism' and will further distrust him, won't respect the people he puts forth as worthy. Janeway seems to be intent on not advocating for any of the Maquis crew and also seems unwilling to ask that the Starfleet crew grant leniency. She implies that the Maquis crew need to learn to get in line and keep quiet and it seems almost like [we must remember the optics] she has Chakotay as the only Maquis in a position of power to facilitate that. Chakotay recognizes and pushes against that, saying that he won't just be her token Maquis - there only so she can point to him and say "See? We don't discriminate against the Maquis here." effectively a tool used to shut down any arguments of unfair treatment and a tool to quell the Maquis if any talk of mutiny DOES arise. In this model, Janeway can just tell Chakotay to calm them down and they'll listen because they trust him. She also doesn't have to really listen to anything he says: A token First Officer has no authority; his words don't hold weight. [Chakotay isn't Maquis anymore, they aren't his crew anymore - ok. What is he then? What are they? Nothing, without respect.] This plan seems untenable, as much as Janeway frames it as sensible: "I can't make it easy, Commander. Surely you can understand that," and alternatives as impossible "How am I supposed to ask them to accept a Maquis as their superior officer just because circumstances have forced us together?" - in the long run, how would this be sustainable? In any power structure, you cannot expect a group of people you're unwilling to grant trust or agency to obediently follow you forever. This proposed form of 'integration' in which the Maquis are kept on the bottom rung and told intermittently to stay there quietly by the only one of them granted permission to stand at the top would never be sustainable - especially with a group like the Maquis who again, were founded on the belief that its members should fight against inequity and are already on the verge of mutiny.

I specifically find the statement "How am I supposed to ask them to accept a Maquis as their superior officer just because circumstances have forced us together?" to be interesting because personally I'd say that being forced together for the rest of almost everyone's natural life is a pretty good reason to ask people to adapt and Janeway does understand this but only applies it to the Maquis - the Maquis are the ones who have to adapt, not Starfleet. The only thing the Starfleet crew have to do is tolerate their presence on board.

At this point Janeway again claims that if Chakotay can show her a 'qualified' Maquis candidate she'll consider them. I believe this is true but we already know that Janeway's standards for qualification will likely not fit the vast majority of the Maquis and Chakotay ignores the claim in favor of putting forth B'Elanna again, firmly. Janeway predictably dismisses her as unqualified and Chakotay disagrees, arguing that he knows her. He's worked with her. He KNOWS that B'Elanna can excel at the job even if she doesn't meet Starfleet/Janeway's qualifications. He doesn't value those qualifications over what he's observed about her - just as he didn't value Carey's title over what he knew about the gap between his and B'Elanna's abilities. Then, Chakotay switches gears. He admits that Janeway's right - he does view the Maquis as his crew but that's because Janeway (almost self admittingly) doesn't and if he doesn't, who will they have? [What kind of captain, kind of man, would he be?] "You're going to have to give them more authority if you want their loyalty." "Theirs or yours, Commander?" Janeway frames Chakotay's words pointing out the flaws in this plan which I outlined earlier, as almost a threat (if she doesn't have Chakotay's loyalty it'll most definitely mean mutiny). Chakotay asserts that it wasn't a threat, he's only trying to help by telling her how the Maquis crew will react to what she's telling him. "I'm sorry you can't see that" - not an apology for what he said but that she isn't willing to budge, not willing to listen to him and acknowledge that she might be as biased towards her crew as he is towards his. Chakotay is trying his best to acclimate his crew but if Janeway isn't willing to do the same, to talk to her people as he's talking to his, then this will not end well and that isn't a threat. It's just the reality of the situation. He then asks permission to leave, showing he is willing to observe Starfleet protocol (just as when he asked permission to speak freely), and Janeway lets him go, exhaling at the intensity of their debate when alone in her ready room.

#J/C is not interesting to me when they're strifelessly playing house or Chakotay is her lovesick yesman who'll do whatever she says #Kathryn Janeway #Chakotay #I really wish they'd kept up this kind of tension between the crews and used Tuvok/Janeway/Tuvok as like a microcosm of that tension #it'd be so good!!#Tuvok #<- he's there too #chara analysis #star trek voyager #st voy #Is this the only episode they call the ship 'The Voyager' ??#Also hearing Harry call Tom 'Mr Paris' is funny - early seasons voyager you have my heart early seasons voy supremacy #ANYWAY - that's beside the point #I do like how the maquis v starfleet tension is handled in this episode #I love how we see everyone start working together and relationships begin to form #How once B'Elanna shows her stuff Janeway is almost immediately intrigued and excited & how B'Elanna feeds off that excitement #The Doctor: -annoyed annoyed complaining complaining snarky comment- ugh I can't believe I have to help with something STUPID #Kes: You're very sensitive aren't you~? /gen /pos #The Doctor: ???? um ..... haha. idk. anyway I'm glad I could help :)#'how can we be seeing a reflection of something that we hadn't even done yet?' Voyager I love you MWAH #Tom Janeway B'Elanna: -temporal mechanics- / Harry: .... so how do we get out???#SUUCKS that in later seasons B'Elanna & Chakotay's relationship isn't focused on anymore but I mean. Every poc is pushed aside in later #seasons. But here you can see how much Chakotay believes in her and wants her to succeed!!! No wonder she likes him so much #He was probably one of the first people to really believe in her and SHOW IT and now Janeway's doing the same thing <3 #My above post may paint Janeway somewhat negatively but it's only in the 'character flaws and being wrong about things means you have #a chance to grow' way - as soon as B'Elanna shows her potential Janeway wants to encourage it #God B'Elanna's so pretty #I forgot Seska was on the bridge!#'many of your teachers thought you had the potential to be an outstanding officer' SOMEONE SHOULD HAVETOLD HEEEER!!!!!!!!#WHY DID NO ONE TELL HEEER!!!!!

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ohthewh0rror · 11 months ago

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Professor!Tom AU but you’re also a professor and think you’ve made a new friend even though he actively tries to avoid you.

No matter how hard he tries you always manage to find him and talk to him about whatever nonsense you overheard the students talking about.

He acts like he hates it but really he finds you to be great background noise as he grades papers and goes over lesson plans. <3

#this is an AU I think of often #I love a good ‘Tom never went insane and just became a teacher’ AU #tom riddle #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you

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localgardenweed · 6 days ago

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If i don't make random gifs then it ain't me im dead

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stackofstories · 10 months ago

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as a kid i don’t think i really understood the gravity of PJO being about kids. stripping down all the supernatural stuff, it’s so easy to see that the kids are surviving and responding to their environment. As an adult, I think about Ares’s kids being so angry and bloodthirsty and so mean and you can blame domineering rage filled Dad for that one. I think about Athena’s kids where nothing is ever good enough for their perfectionist mother so of course they overcompensate, they are a know it alls, they can’t tolerate failure, how rigid and fixed they are in perspective. I think about Hephaestus’s kids and good they are with their hands, how witty and defensive they are, how shy they are with compliments, how they let their work speak for them because everyone calls their father ugly, a mistake, a laughingstock. I think about Aphrodite’s kids and their feigned incompetence when it comes to battles and logic, how they choose partners based on adoration, how they trade secrets on looking the best, how they struggle to say no because Mom says love is enough and you’ll only matter if everyone thinks you’re pretty. I could go on… idk, I just think all these kids deserve a break because they’re doing their best and moving forward in the world the best way they know how.

#yes even Luke deserves empathy #he’s no Tom Riddle #actually I think Bryce Lawerence is the only kid that is like unhinged w/o any redeeming qualities #I think the books really show that RR is a teacher at heart and he really understands the diversity of the children #their needs and wants #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #ignore me

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moonyeyedstar · 10 months ago

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Teacher's Pet- Professor Tom Riddle x Reader Smut

*18+*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your cheeks flushed.

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

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

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

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

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

“Because of me?” he teases.

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

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

“God yes,” you practically moaned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How is this, Sir?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hogwarts student #hp fandom #hp smut #rough kink #smut #teacher x student #harry potter #moonyeyedstar #tom riddle #Professor!tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #professor tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle smut #slytherin #tom riddle x you #tom riddle imagine

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voukkake · 11 months ago

Text

Another dreamling AU

#ferdinand kingsley #dreamling #the sandman #tom sturridge #alternative universe #dreamling au #teacher's pet #grrrr bark woof #Tom is such a twink

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saintsenara · 1 year ago

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pls can we have your takes on what dumbledore gets wrong/doesn't understand about tom riddle tysm

thank you for the ask, pal :)

i have received a flurry of asks about my main lord, lord voldemort, which form a neat triad, so this is part three of a three part meta on him:

1. what is interesting about voldemort's role in the series? [here] 2. how do i write voldemort in my own work, and why? [here] 3. what does dumbledore get wrong about voldemort?

i want to be clear that this isn’t intended as dumbledore bashing - i love that old man and i’ll defend him from a lot of the charges levelled against him in fanon [and, to be honest, canon].

it's just an analysis of how dumbledore, as a flawed human being like all of us… kind of fucks up in how he relates to voldemort. many of his mistakes are caused by personality traits which i think are fascinating: his ivory-tower detachment from reality; his projection of his own guilt and grief onto others; his tendency towards inaction in the face of the status quo; his own tendency towards being secretive and ruthless; and so on.

and, while i don’t think he can be blamed for voldemort choosing to become a terrorist kingpin, his attitude towards voldemort doesn’t entirely help the anti-voldemort cause, and perhaps he should have tightened up.

so...

what does dumbledore get wrong about voldemort?

in we go under the cut:

that voldemort is an unsympathetic victim of childhood trauma, but he is a victim nonetheless

there are no two ways about it, dumbledore and voldemort’s first meeting is disastrous and, even though voldemort doesn’t acquit himself particularly well in the proceedings [maybe don’t boast about all the children you torture?] the power differential in the relationship [dumbledore is at least in his late fifties, voldemort is eleven] means that responsibility for conducting himself fairly lies entirely with dumbledore.

however, i am going to begin this section with some dumbledore defence. i see a lot in fanfiction the idea that the young voldemort is profoundly traumatised by dumbledore setting his wardrobe on fire, which of course does seem like an incredibly cruel thing for dumbledore to do to a child who presumably has basically no worldly possessions [which is what harry immediately thinks].

the voldemort of canon, however, doesn’t seem to care that much:

Riddle jumped to his feet; Harry could hardly blame him for howling in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must be in there. But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged. Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. "Where can I get one of them?"

as we can see, any upset voldemort feels over the wardrobe disappears the minute he appraises magic’s ability to frighten, destroy, and control. similarly:

“All in good time,” said Dumbledore. “I think there is something trying to get out of your wardrobe.” And sure enough, a faint rattling could be heard from inside it. For the first time, Riddle looked frightened. “Open the door,” said Dumbledore… Riddle took down the quaking box. He looked unnerved. “Is there anything in that box that you ought not to have?” asked Dumbledore. Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. “Yes, I suppose so, sir,” he said finally, in an expressionless voice. [...] Riddle did not look remotely abashed; he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he said in a colourless voice, “Yes, sir.” [...] It was impossible to tell what he was thinking; his face remained quite blank as he put the little cache of stolen objects back into the cardboard box. When he had finished, he turned to Dumbledore and said baldly, “I haven’t got any money.”

while dumbledore’s behaviour here frightens and unnerves voldemort, he gets over it pretty quickly - and he then transitions into being unabashed at having been caught and planning his options for how to proceed [i am wedded to the headcanon that the "clear and calculating look" is him deciding not to return the stolen objects, and to test whether dumbledore will indeed know if he doesn’t], chief of which is his need to solve his money issues.

which is to say, dumbledore’s behaviour in this meeting undoubtedly establishes voldemort’s later dislike of him - although i think it’s worth noting that the voldemort of chamber of secrets treats dumbledore as a mere annoyance, rather than someone for whom he harbours a profound, traumatising hatred [voldemort's dislike of dumbledore transitions to hate, i think, following the fake job interview] - but i don’t think it’s the misstep many interpretations of voldemort and dumbledore’s relationship make it.

but dumbledore does make some decisions in their first meeting which i think are worth exploring more critically than they often are:

dumbledore’s failure to inform mrs cole that the young voldemort is a wizard makes his existence in two worlds impossible

we know that the families of muggleborn students are normally informed about the magical world during this visit by hogwarts staff in which their letter is delivered - and that this was the case even in the late 1930s, since myrtle warren’s parents are able to come to hogwarts after her death.

dumbledore’s decision not to mention voldemort’s magic to mrs cole means that voldemort - whose sense of belonging to a family unit is already non-existent - must, then, become the only student at hogwarts whose legal guardian knows nothing about where he goes all year. potentially there are magical-legal reasons for this, but i can’t think of any particularly convincing ones.

dumbledore projects his own self-loathing onto the child voldemort and chalks his personality traits up to malice rather than neglect

dumbledore handles himself pretty well in the initial moments of his meeting with voldemort, keeping calm while he freaks out about whether he’s a doctor [as i’ve said in the previous part of this series of meta, voldemort’s fear of doctors - and especially whether it implies some deeper traumatic experience - is something worth thinking about].

his attitude changes when voldemort accepts easily that he is a wizard:

His legs were trembling. He stumbled forward and sat down on the bed again, staring at his hands, his head bowed as though in prayer. “I knew I was different,” he whispered to his own quivering fingers. “I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something.” “Well, you were quite right,” said Dumbledore, who was no longer smiling, but watching Riddle intently. “You are a wizard.”

dumbledore will tell harry later in the chapter this is taken from that he thought voldemort’s immediate pivot to believing himself special was a red flag, indicative of the arrogance which will define his adult self.

his discomfort, although we don’t know this yet in half-blood prince, is evidently triggered by the fact that voldemort’s breathless awe at the potential - and especially the sinister potential - of his magical powers reminds him either of grindelwald or of himself.

but.

the young voldemort - a magical child surrounded by non-magical people - can do things which are objectively different and special. as he tells us:

“I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to.”

the obviously violent implication of the last two sentences aside, these abilities would be understood by anyone as so bafflingly unusual that special is a reasonable word with which to describe them, particularly for a child who has only just been given the language to explain an aspect of his personhood he has clearly always been aware of, but never understood the cause of.

dumbledore’s immediate negative response to this statement, however, is the cause of his later assessment of the child voldemort as like his adult self:

“His powers, as you heard, were surprisingly well-developed for such a young wizard and - most interestingly and ominously of all - he had already discovered that he had some measure of control over them, and begun to use them consciously. And as you saw, they were not the random experiments typical of young wizards: He was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control…his ability to speak to serpents did not make me nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination.”

but, while the child voldemort’s cruelty is absolutely something dumbledore should have been made uneasy by - although, of course, he does nothing about it once voldemort starts at hogwarts, deciding to take a hands-off approach that harry clearly thinks is idiotic - his criticism of voldemort for being secretive [and also, later in this chapter, self-sufficient, independent, and friendless] is a bad-faith reading, based on his own loathing of the fact that these traits also describe him, of habits which are obviously caused by childhood neglect.

voldemort is secretive - as harry is - because he doesn’t have any trusted childhood confidants. he’s self-sufficient and independent - as harry is - because he has to be. he’s friendless as much because he’s a strange child with magical powers raised around other children who don’t have them - as, the text implies, is the case for hermione - as because he’s cruel.

dumbledore’s failure to have any sympathy for the fact that voldemort’s institutionalised childhood drives these characteristics - instead ascribing them entirely to deliberate choices made by an eleven-year-old in order to assert malign dominance over his peers - is a failing. indeed, it is one he will repeat with harry.

but the most egregious of dumbledore’s cock-ups in this bit of the story:

dumbledore completely fails to understand the way voldemort’s childhood grief manifests itself

voldemort - in one of the few bits of this chapter in which he actually appears childlike - asks dumbledore:

“Was my father a wizard? He was called Tom Riddle too, they’ve told me.” “I’m afraid I don’t know,” said Dumbledore, his voice gentle. “My mother can’t have been magic, or she wouldn’t have died,” said Riddle, more to himself than Dumbledore. “It must’ve been him.”

dumbledore seems to handle this quite sensitively. on our first reading.

but when we get deeper into the text, two things emerge which make this interaction - in my sincere opinion - the cruelest thing dumbledore does to the child voldemort.

firstly, when discussing with harry the teenage voldemort shedding his father’s name, dumbledore refers to merope as voldemort’s "previously despised mother… the woman whom, you will remember, he had thought could not be a witch if she had succumbed to the shameful human weakness of death."

but there is no implication in the above - surely the only conversation he and dumbledore ever have on the topic - that voldemort despises his mother. his statement reads like the magical thinking of any bereaved child - that his mother could have lived if she’d had supernatural powers, or there had been some sort of magical intervention, and so on. [a friend who's reading spare pointed out to me recently that prince harry was convinced for years that his mother had managed to fake her own death to escape a life she disliked, and that she would pop up any day to take him with her into her new reality. what voldemort is doing here is basically the same.]

dumbledore’s negative reaction to voldemort's words reflects his own relationship with death as ever-present - the spectre of ariana is clearly hovering constantly on his shoulder - rather than something which magic can dismiss or overcome, but voldemort choosing to think the opposite isn’t the behaviour of a pre-teen psychopath. it’s an entirely expected reaction for a grieving child, and dumbledore's response to it is unfair.

even worse though is this. when dumbledore is speaking to mrs cole, it is very clear that he realises that the child he is about to meet is half gaunt:

“And then she told me he was to be named Tom, for his father, and Marvolo, for her father — yes, I know, funny name, isn’t it? We wondered whether she came from a circus.”

dumbledore must react physically to hearing the name marvolo - who, since he can be presumed to be already on the wizengamot at this point, he is aware was sent to azkaban for defending his son's involvement in an anti-muggle attack - significantly enough that mrs cole notices it. in deathly hallows, voldemort himself is worried that dumbledore knew about his heritage from - since when else would he have learned voldemort’s full name - their first meeting:

An old unease flickered inside him. Dumbledore had known his middle name... Dumbledore might have made the connection with the Gaunts…

the child voldemort will then tell dumbledore that he is a parselmouth, a trait the gaunts must be known to possess, since marvolo and morfin both openly speak parseltongue in front of bob ogden. and yet dumbledore doesn’t mention at all that he might be able to identify a bereaved child’s - who we have no evidence at all even knows his own mother’s name - family line.

dumbledore overlooks voldemort’s grief at other points in the series - he doesn’t notice, for example, that the murder of hepzibah smith [who insults merope by suggesting she stole the locket] is clearly one of revenge, rather than gain - but it’s this sin of omission [later one of his most frequent missteps when dealing with harry] that always gets me.

that voldemort doesn’t just change his name because of his father

within five years of their first meeting, voldemort has stopped going by tom when with his friends. dumbledore will claim to harry that his decision to shed his birth name was caused by two things: his discovery that his father was a muggle and his desire to be seen as special. voldemort himself will emphasise the former in both chamber of secrets and goblet of fire - the latter of which also features his odd conviction that his father was the one who insisted on the name tom riddle.

dumbledore evidently believes that voldemort’s decision to no longer use the name tom is contemptible, and he - and later harry - will refer to him as tom whenever they come face-to-face. the narrative presents dumbledore as being unambiguously right to do this:

He raised his glass as though toasting Voldemort, whose face remained expressionless. Nevertheless, Harry felt the atmosphere in the room change subtly: Dumbledore’s refusal to use Voldemort’s chosen name was a refusal to allow Voldemort to dictate the terms of the meeting, and Harry could tell that Voldemort took it as such.

i am sympathetic to the idea that dumbledore should not be expected to refer to voldemort as "my lord" - although i don’t actually think that’s what voldemort is asking here - and i should say that i myself have written "voldemort" as being a mask the adult tom takes on and off at whim, and i think there’s space for those interpretations in fanfiction. but the evidence of canon is that voldemort lives exclusively as voldemort from the mid-1950s onwards and that he considers tom to be, without question, his deadname.

the name clearly doesn’t feel right to him even as child - he twitches "irritably" when dumbledore points out that he shares it with tom the landlord - even at a point in his life when he still feels positively towards the father whom he believes is a wizard as well. while dumbledore may be correct that he dislikes the name at this point because it’s not special enough, wanting a more unique name is not, in and of itself, a moral failing. voldemort calling himself voldemort is a completely neutral act. it is what he does under that name that’s the problem.

that dumbledore thinks it is a moral failing, however, can be explained by the backstory we learn in deathly hallows. elphias doge and muriel prewett both make clear that percival dumbledore’s arrest and imprisonment and kendra and ariana dumbledore’s deaths brought sufficient press attention that the dumbledore name was immediately recognisable and attached in the mind of the wizarding public to the various scandals which befell the family. dumbledore, who blames himself for much [or most] of what happened, clearly carries his name like a penance, and regards it as a dereliction of duty to try and escape the weight of one’s family drama by taking a new identity.

and this drives, i think, something which the doylist text doesn’t think is an issue, but which i think dumbledore is mistaken in when it comes to voldemort: that his background can be nowhere near as secret as dumbledore assumes, meaning that the only thing he rejects is a name which no longer belongs to him.

a significant number of death eaters clearly went to school with voldemort, the malfoys cannot be the only ones who have seen his teenage possessions, hagrid is seemingly aware that voldemort attended hogwarts alongside him, and dumbledore himself says in half-blood prince that people know what voldemort was once called and what he was like as teenager, but are just too scared to provide information about his life to the anti-voldemort cause.

this leads to my belief that many of the death eaters are aware of voldemort’s blood status - lucius malfoy in order of the phoenix is clearly unsurprised to hear harry say voldemort’s a half-blood; bellatrix is furious, of course, but maybe that’s what over a decade in azkaban does to you - and are also aware that his political aims, as described in the previous meta in this series, are not the establishment of a pureblood oligarchy, but what we might term magic-supremacy. indeed, dumbledore’s interpretation of voldemort as lying to his death eaters that he’s a great pureblood champion always sits uneasily in canon alongside the fact that voldemort is shown to have enormous support among non-human magical creatures and - given how lacking the resistance to the the government of deathly hallows is - swathes of the majority half-blood population as well, which suggests that his closest supporters accept that his concern is getting the magical of any stripe behind him in order to take on the muggle world.

which is to say, dumbledore thinks that lord voldemort is a mask a half-blood man called tom riddle uses to hide his true self from his pureblood supporters. in reality, lord voldemort is just that half-blood man’s name.

that voldemort thinks the job interview is real

voldemort doesn’t lose his temper in the interview scene until dumbledore reveals the meeting - which voldemort has travelled some distance for and apparently indicated his intentions for in advance - is fake.

[he handles dumbledore deadnaming him pretty magnanimously, for example.]

dumbledore’s decision to lure him to hogwarts simply to assert his dominance over him is clearly the final nail in the coffin of their relationship, and it's another example of how dumbledore’s automatic bad-faith reading of decisions and desires which are clearly more complicated than just "i love evil" [after all, dumbledore himself acknowledges that voldemort regards hogwarts as the only place he has ever truly felt at home] is the cause of voldemort’s hatred of him, rather than that hatred being the result of voldemort being afraid of dumbledore’s goodness or perspicacity or skill, as the pre-deathly hallows text likes to imply:

Voldemort sneered. “If you do not want to give me a job -” “Of course I don’t,” said Dumbledore. “And I don’t think for a moment you expected me to. Nevertheless, you came here, you asked, you must have had a purpose.” Voldemort stood up. He looked less like Tom Riddle than ever, his features thick with rage. “This is your final word?” “It is,” said Dumbledore, also standing. "Then we have nothing more to say to each other.”

that voldemort has a very strange - but very pronounced - sense of honour

as i have noted in the previous meta in this series, voldemort has a remarkably well-defined sense of honour. for a murderer.

his often-repeated hatred of liars, hypocrites, and cowards appears to be genuine and - for narrative reasons, since he's often required to provide exposition for harry’s benefit which dumbledore and snape can’t if they are to maintain their characterisation - he is rarely shown outright lying himself in canon, even if we’re told he's a pathological liar by other characters.

that he considers dumbledore in particular to be a hypocrite is clear in many of their interactions, especially this - which i always like - from order of the phoenix:

Dumbledore flicked his own wand. The force of the spell that emanated from it was such that Harry, though shielded by his stone guard, felt his hair stand on end as it passed, and this time Voldemort was forced to conjure a shining silver shield out of thin air to deflect it. The spell, whatever it was, caused no visible damage to the shield, though a deep, gonglike note reverberated from it, an oddly chilling sound... “You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?” called Voldemort, his scarlet eyes narrowed over the top of the shield. “Above such brutality, are you?” “We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom,” Dumbledore said calmly, continuing to walk toward Voldemort as though he had not a fear in the world, as though nothing had happened to interrupt his stroll up the hall. “Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit — ”

at this point in the story, the reader doesn’t know that dumbledore is taking this merciful approach because he is aware he can’t kill voldemort.

we do, however, already suspect that dumbledore’s dishonesty with harry about the prophecy is a direct cause of the chain of events which has just led to sirius’ death - as dumbledore himself will shortly admit to and as the death eaters are evidently aware of [lucius malfoy pointing out that voldemort is baffled that dumbledore didn’t tell harry about the prophecy always sends me].

voldemort’s statement - "above such brutality, are you?" - is ironic, and is a criticism of what he evidently believes to be dumbledore’s hypocrisy in performing mercy in public while regarding his men as expendable in private [and, especially, as expendable to protect harry - who he maintains right up until the end of deathly hallows has been hidden and pampered from the reality of war by a procession of cannon fodder].

it’s worth saying i think this is unfair from voldemort - dumbledore makes decisions which any general has to, and they will of course be messy and difficult; and voldemort’s characterisation of harry is always unnecessarily harsh - but it is indicative of a belief expressed by voldemort at other points in the series that dumbledore is a hypocrite, that he is a coward, that he is dishonourable, and that he is dishonest. and he isn’t entirely wrong, as the conclusion of the series reveals.

dumbledore obviously thinks exactly the same things of voldemort. and, of course, he’s not wrong either. but, as always, there is projection from dumbledore of his discomfort with the performance and concealment his own life requires onto voldemort. and voldemort clearly picks up on it.

that his view of love as sacrificial can’t be understood by someone who has nobody to sacrifice anything for

what it says on the tin, really.

dumbledore’s past - especially his profound guilt and grief over the fact that his embrace of desire, carnality, and other "selfish" aspects of love caused his sister’s death - is the cause of his view of love as, in essence, something defined by sacrifice and loss. dumbledore always discusses love in terms of the nobility of suffering, and he never throughout the canonical series [except maybe, obliquely, at king's cross] suggests that love can be comforting, self-indulgent, restorative, uncomplicatedly pleasurable, and fun.

we see, after all, that harry has to give up a love which is all of those things - his relationship with ginny at the end of half-blood prince - in order to pursue dumbledore’s version of the concept.

harry’s own pathology - especially his enormous saviour and martyr complexes, as well as the circumstances of his own orphanhood [as i have had voldemort point out on several occasions in my writing, harry’s mother could be bothered to live long enough to die for him, voldemort can’t relate] - makes him amenable to the concept of love-as-sacrifice.

voldemort, in contrast, fears sacrifice and vulnerability because he fears powerlessness - and he fears powerlessness because he’s an orphan who would have nothing without his power [under which umbrella, of course, comes his immortality].

this is what he means by:

“The old argument,” he said softly. “But nothing I have seen in the world has supported your famous pronouncements that love is more powerful than my kind of magic, Dumbledore.”

and:

How stupid they were, and how trusting, thinking that their safety lay in friends, that weapons could be discarded even for moments.

and:

“Is it love again?” said Voldemort, his snake’s face jeering. “Dumbledore’s favourite solution, love, which he claimed conquered death, though love did not stop him falling from the tower and breaking like an old waxwork? Love, which did not prevent me stamping out your Mudblood mother like a cockroach, Potter — and nobody seems to love you enough to run forward this time and take my curse. So what will stop you dying now when I strike?”

and:

To tell Snape why the boy might return would be foolish, of course; it had been a grave mistake to trust Bellatrix and Malfoy: Didn’t their stupidity and carelessness prove how unwise it was ever to trust?

as he tells us in philosopher’s stone, there is only power and those too weak to seek it. everything can be done on one's own. it is foolish to rely on other people.

sacrifice is a concept which cannot exist within this world view.

but i think voldemort could be made to understand the idea of love-as-pleasure. after all, he is clearly someone who enjoys things - when harry is able to pick up on his moods in order of the phoenix he is happy as often as he is angry - magic chief among them. he likes shiny objects and, therefore, presumably understands sensory pleasure. he conceives of himself as someone who is generous and who gives gifts.

his relationship - whether you see it as sexual or not - with bellatrix in canon is surprisingly tender: he allows her to be physically very close to him a lot of the time, to touch him, to talk to him in a way which undermines his sinister vibe, and to be visibly pregnant with his baby [if you accept that, and i understand why basically nobody does]; and he is clearly known to spend a great deal of time in her company by the other death eaters.

he appears to genuinely like several of his minions, particularly snape. he obviously misses his mother, but nobody external to him ever acknowledges that grief. he is obviously as lost as all orphans are in a world which places a great deal of emphasis on lineage, and that is again never acknowledged.

he is someone who had a childhood which was sufficiently lonely and deprived that the concept of giving up anything he has for himself is something he can’t compute. but perhaps he could have hoarded bits of love in his little shoebox. if dumbledore could have seen why that wouldn’t have been such a bad thing...

#asks answered #asenora meta #albus dumbledore #tom riddle #lord voldemort #i'll defend that old man #but i'll tell him off too #basically self-loathing isn't a great trait for a teacher to have

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avianii · 1 year ago

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sometimes you just gotta draw a *friendly* arm wrestle between two of your favorite fighter pilots

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generallyhux · 1 month ago

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Extra Lessons • Professor Tom Riddle

Summary: Professor Riddle gives his favorite student a lesson in Occlumency

A/N: NFSW, originally posted to AO3

Enjoy! :)

*******************************************************

October 1955

Grading papers was Tom Riddle ’s least favorite task as a professor. If these were the students that were to go out and become the next generation of the Wizarding World, they were all doomed. Hardly any of them could comprehend the difference between the Expulso and the Reductor Curses, and their attempts at describing hexes were laughable.

His original design in getting the position was, of course, to seduce Hogwarts’ young minds and accentuate the power of dark magic. Instead, he found that there was not one single specimen in this castle that he would even consider worthy of his time and expertise.

Except for her.

Riddle looked down at the essay he was currently reading. The penmanship was elegant, letters looping together in a way that was just begging to be read. Her essays were the only ones worth reading, the only ones that would ever receive his praise.

Everyone called her Kitty, though she always used her full name on his assignments - Catherine Carr. A seventh-year in Ravenclaw and the top of her class, she excelled at everything. Her knowledge on most subjects was beyond those above her in both experience and age.

He, however, had much he wanted to teach her. He knew that she could be useful to him someday, but to ensure she was up to par, it wouldn’t hurt to mold her into the witch he needed by his side. Riddle had to test her - prove that she was truly made of sterner stuff.

He knew just the way to do that.

At the conclusion of his next lesson, he waited for most of the class to exit. Kitty still sat at her table near the front, gingerly placing her books into her bag as she often did.

“Miss Carr,” Riddle said, “would you mind staying? There’s something I have to discuss with you.”

She nodded, “Of course, Professor Riddle.”

He led the way to his office with Kitty following a few paces behind, ringing her clammy hands behind her. To her understanding, Professor Riddle had never asked for a student to stay behind.

Entering the small office, he offered Kitty a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. The room itself was dark, lit by a few candles, but the young witch could make out some titles of the books that littered the room and stuffed the shelves against the walls. She was only a little surprised to find most of the material covered in these books was very dark magic.

Now seated at his desk, Riddle looked at the girl across from him, but her eyes couldn’t seem to meet him.

“You are a very bright girl,” Riddle started. “Perhaps more intelligent than anyone I have taught before.”

“Thank you, sir,” Kitty said. Her pale complexion turned slightly pink at the compliment.

Riddle continued, “Your OWL scores were impeccable and it is my understanding that upon your graduation, you wish to work for the Ministry.”

Kitty nodded, unsure of where this was heading.

“As a seventh-year, you are preparing for your career and I want to aid in that preparation.”

“In what way?” Kitty asked.

“Are you familiar with Occlumency?” Riddle replied. He paid special attention to the way her eyes lit up at the word.

“It’s the act of closing your mind against external forces,” she stated. Kitty had read many books on the subject, but performing the mental block was something beyond her capacity.

“Not only is it useful, it is a rare and difficult skill. It is not a part of the curriculum, but I believe you to be an inquisitive witch and would prefer to teach you in a way I see fit.” Riddle’s words rolled smoothly off of his tongue.

This was not true, but she would never know; this was for purely selfish reasons. Catherine Carr was the first student in his five years of teaching that displayed signs of dedication to the craft. Perhaps she was a little too innocent at the given time, but he could mold her into the witch she ought to be.

He was aware of the impact he had on these young students - the female ones in particular - and Miss Carr was no exception. Riddle noticed the way her lips formed a small smile when he called on her to answer challenging questions and how a tinge of pink dusted her pale complexion when he praised her swift responses.

She was rendered speechless at her professor’s offer, but hastily accepted the opportunity with a graciousness that almost made Riddle feel something like guilt. But nothing she could have done would stop his efforts now.

He sent Kitty on her way with some mind-blocking exercises to work on and scheduled their first session for the following week. Tom’s eyes followed her down the corridor until she turned from view.

Lust was not a trait Riddle had though he possessed. In his post-Hogwarts years, he had found himself in the company of a few young witches that turned into little more than one-night stands. He considered his wild oats to be sowed; the presence of Miss Carr stirred something deep within him, however.

It disgusted him to think he was no better than any other man, desiring a younger woman clad in a short skirt. But she was different. She was rather plain, he thought, but her intelligence made her incredibly desirable.

A week later he was sitting at his desk when the soft knock came at the door.

“Come in.”

Kitty entered the office, fidgeting slightly with her wand. “Good evening, Professor.”

“Good evening, Miss Carr. You may have a seat,” Riddle motioned to the armchair in the corner of the room by the bookshelves and the young witch sat down.

He continued, “I hope you have been working on the exercises I taught you, they’ll prove very beneficial as I begin prodding into your mind.”

At that, Kitty shivered slightly. Prodding into her mind? She knew what Occlumency entailed, but what if he found… those thoughts?

Yes, she was the brightest witch in her class and yes, she thought herself above the dating scene of Hogwarts, but who hadn’t had a crush on their teacher? And who hadn’t had thoughts of doing scandalous things with their very young and attractive professor?

“Let us begin,” Riddle said. “Legilimens!”

Unsurprising to Kitty, he was able to perform the spell wandlessly and therefore she was taken off guard when she felt him flood into her mind. All attempts to clear her thoughts were thwarted by his presence.

An 11-year-old Kitty sat on a stool in the Great Hall as the Sorting Hat was placed on her head. Almost in an instant the hat cried out, “Ravenclaw!” The Hall erupted into cheers and the young girl giddily made her way to her house’s table.

A few years later, she was seated in the courtyard working on homework when a gaggle of girls in her class scurried by. They were giggling quite loudly over something Kitty was not privy to. However, any question she had was answered when the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor crossed the courtyard and the girls were once more wracked with squeals and red faces. Kitty, too, found the appeal, but she did her blushing in private.

The scene shifted forward to her sixth-year where Kitty found herself in the library scribbling out the final sentence in her essay with a sigh. She rubbed her bleary eyes, careful not to transfer any of the ink from her hands to her face. Suddenly she felt a pair of eyes on her and looked up to meet Professor Riddle staring deeply from across the way. She was slightly taken aback from the attention, causing her breath to catch in her throat and her cheeks to flush a dark shade of red. This was not lost on her professor who began to smirk before swiftly exiting the library.

Once more her surroundings blurred around her and focused on the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Kitty was sitting at her usual spot near the front hanging on to every word spilling out of Professor Riddle’s mouth. Her head rested in her hand, eyes not moving from Riddle ’s form. She didn’t notice she was gawking until her friend sitting next to her gave Kitty a quick nudge to her arm and her attention shifted to the exam on her desk.

Riddle was jolted back to his dimly lit office and in an uncharacteristic move, he leaned back on his desk for support. Clearly Kitty had not done her best at blocking him from her mind, but after viewing the last memory, she had forcefully casted him out.

Kitty appeared out of breath and flushing a deep shade of crimson. While she had never mastered eye contact, Riddle noticed she refused to look up at him.

Feeling he needed to exploit the poor girl even more, he pressed on. “I could feel you shutting me out near the end which is a step in the right direction. This time, I’m going to push even further.”

“Please, sir,” Kitty said quietly, “I don’t think I can do any more.”

Riddle smirked, “Why ever not, Miss Carr? What else would I see if we continued?”

Kitty’s mouth went dry. What was he insinuating?

He continued, “That last thought was very interesting. May I ask why that was significant to you?”

“Erm - I don’t remember what it was,” she lied. Abruptly standing up from the chair, she slowly walked towards the door. “Thank you, Professor, for the lesson, but I really should be going now.”

As she reached for the handle, Riddle silently flicked his wand and the door locked before she had the chance to open it. In two strides he was across his office and facing Kitty which prompted a squeak from the girl.

“I think we have something to discuss.”

“P-Professor Riddle,” she stuttered, flushing even deeper.

Riddle grabbed her wrists and held them above her head. He was usually much better at composing himself, but seldom was he in a position of such control; he was beginning to feel something stirring within himself. Something that would not be contained for much longer.

“What’s wrong, Miss Carr? Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?”

She was trying to respond, he noticed, but nothing was coming out. He was a great deal taller than her and when he looked into her eyes, he saw how dilated her pupils were. Kitty was aroused and there was nothing she could say that would deny it.

The young witch let out another pathetic mewl, but it only strengthened Riddle ’s desire for her.

“Please, sir.” It was barely a whisper, but he clung to her words.

“Please what?” Riddle asked. His empty hand was now cupping Kitty’s neck, thumb rubbing against her pulse point slowly. Her heartbeat was rapid.

“I need… I need…”

“What do you need, Miss Carr?” Riddle practically purred in her ear.

“You, sir.”

That was all Riddle wanted to hear. Within a second his mouth was on hers, parting her lips with his tongue. She tasted sweet - bubblegum. He was briefly reminded that she was barely seventeen. And his student.

The most wonderful noises were escaping Kitty’s throat and melodically filling the dim office as his mouth traveled to her neck making sure to suck hard on the most sensitive parts. Riddle flicked his wand once more, wordlessly placing a silencing charm on the room to keep her sounds from getting out. Perhaps it was juvenile, leaving the trail of dark purple marks on her previously unblemished skin, but the thought of her looking at them and being reminded of who made them was exquisite.

Riddle led them back to his desk. As if she were a doll, he picked her up by the waist and placed her on top, nudging himself between her legs. His mouth was attacking hers now with such force that when they broke away, her lips were red and puffy. Kitty’s eyes were wide - frightened, almost, as if her mind was catching up to what was happening, but Riddle, sensing her discomfort, simply stroked her cheek with a warm hand.

“What’s wrong, kitten,” he tutted, “I thought this is what you wanted?”

At that, her hips practically bucked forward, making contact with his throbbing member. His hands snaked down to grab at her exposed thighs. He hadn’t noticed how far her skirt had ridden up during their interaction and he couldn’t help but let out a groan at the sight of her exposed milky-white thighs gripping his waist.

“Please, sir! I need you inside of me,” Kitty begged as her professor continued to grind into her warm center.

Riddle silently agreed with the girl, but he wasn’t done playing with her just yet. He wanted to hear those sweet sounds spilling from his favorite student’s lips a little while longer - wanted to hear her whine and beg for him.

“Oh, my sweet little kitten,” he moaned, “you’ve been so patient - so good for me. Perhaps you deserve a treat.”

Slithering up her smooth thighs, his fingers latched around her panties, slowly dragging them down until they fell to the floor at his feet. He leaned down to inspect her core and felt his stiff cock throb even more than before. A dusting of hair covered her swollen folds which were covered with a sheen of arousal. He gave her a quick kiss to the mouth before gently laying her down on his desk.

He parted her lips and lazily rubbed circles on her mound with his thumb, causing Kitty to release another explicit moan.

“Oh, Professor,” she whined.

Looking up at her he raised his eyebrow quizzically, “What do you want, my pet?”

He began to make quicker loops around her pulsating clit. All she could get out was, “More!”

As he himself wanted a release, he obliged her request and got to work. Replacing his thumb with his mouth, he sucked and licked at her center, his supple tongue moving in rhythmically. Once again, the sounds coming from the young witch were obscene, causing Riddle to keep at his pace.

After a few minutes, he let his tongue slip into her tight entrance, groaning at the thought of being inside of his favorite student - his little pet. Hungrily he lapped at the wetness gushing out of her.

“You’re being such a good girl, aren’t you?” Riddle hummed into her and spread her legs even further, “Keep those legs open for me, kitten.”

“Oh, sir, I’m gonna - I’m gonna-”

Riddle removed himself from Kitty’s center which elicited a cry of displeasure from the girl.

“Not yet, my pet,” he chastised. “Not before I’ve had my fun.”

He made quick work of removing her blouse and skirt before undressing himself. His large member sprang free from its constraints making Kitty’s eyes to widen in disbelief and her face reddened.

Her small hand reached out to take a hold of his cock and the contact alone made Riddle’s hips jerk involuntarily.

Riddle stroked his student’s cheek once again before slipping a thumb between her still swollen lips. Her tongue swirled around the digit and she looked up at her professor unsure.

“That’s right, my kitten,” Riddle nodded, “Get on your knees for me.”

The young witch obliged, kneeling in front of him and tentatively opening her mouth to let him in. Riddle hissed at the contact from her warm, velvety mouth. His fingers tangled themselves into her hair and he brought her head further down on his cock.

He continued to pound into Kitty’s throat mercilessly, relishing the slight choking noises that came with it and the tears that formed at the corners of her eyes. He felt himself getting close and pulled out before he could spill into her.

Riddle pulled Kitty up from the floor and unceremoniously bent her over his desk, exposing even more of her pale and unmarked flesh which he quickly palmed with a groan. Her whining was getting louder and her legs parted as an invitation, thighs wet with her slickness.

“What do you want, my sweet pet? Hmm?” Riddle cooed into her ear, giving her earlobe a nibble.

“You, sir,” she whimpered, “I need you.”

Riddle let out a chuckle, “And what do you need me to do?”

“I want you to - I need you -”

“C’mon, you can say it,” he murmured.

Her voice was barely a whisper, “I need you to fuck me, professor.”

That was all Riddle needed to hear. He reached down to collect Kitty’s juices and pumped his pulsating cock a few times with her slick. Lining up with her entrance he gave a tentative thrust, but her entrance was so tight he wasn’t able to get more than the tip in.

“So tight for me, kitten,” Riddle growled in her ear. “Is this your first time?”

She squeaked out an answer that Riddle took as an affirmative.

“I need you to relax for me, alright? Can you do that?”

Kitty gave a shaky nod, “Yes, sir.”

Gently pushing in further, Riddle bottomed out in her tight hole. His hands were grabbing her waist so hard he knew there would be bruises. He couldn’t believe how wet she was; the wet squelching noises and their loud moans that echoed in his office was like a symphony to his ears.

His hand slithered up from her middle to clutch her throat, forcing her to look up and make eye contact. Her mouth opened to let out a moan and he spat in it; her eyes rolled back in her head from pleasure.

“Oh - fuck - you’re being so good for me,” Riddle panted. He was teetering on the edge of coming and while he may be taking advantage of his young student, he wanted to at least make sure she came first.

She was clenching on his cock, getting close to the edge as well. While he wanted to savor her a little longer, he wanted to fill her pussy with his seed.

“Your cunt is so tight,” Riddle grunted. His free hand went to cup her sex and started to rub circles around her clit once again.

“Professor,” she cried, “I’m gonna come.”

“Come for me, kitten. Come on my cock.” Riddle’s thrusts quickened, helping her get to the point of release.

Within seconds her orgasm took over and Riddle felt her spasm all over his cock which sparked his own peak. Together their fluids mingled together and he collapsed on top of her, peppering light kisses on her shoulder.

He removed himself from her center and magicked them clean. Conjuring up a glass of water, he sat Kitty down on the armchair and helped her drink from it as he stroked her hair.

Riddle was the first to break the silence, “You were wonderful, Miss Carr.”

Though he had seen every part of her and had just been inside of her, she still had the decency to blush at the notion.

“Erm - thank you, Professor,” she mumbled, “for the lessons.”

“I think we may need to cover more material next week,” he smirked. After a few moments of letting the young witch catch her breath, he led her to the door, hand on the small of her back. “Have a good evening, Miss Carr.”

“Goodnight, Professor Riddle,” she smiled before leaving for her dormitory.

The young professor sat back at his desk, staring down at the surface where moments earlier he had been defiling his even younger student.

Riddle let out a sigh and went back to grading papers. He supposed if she was unwilling to turn to the Dark Arts, she would at least be a pleasant companion to keep around

#tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle #fanfic #professor tom riddle #professor riddle #harry potter #original character #student teacher #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #defense against the dark arts #occlumency #smut

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psuedochakra · 2 months ago

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Hot for Teacher - 1

1986, Miramar, CA

As far as naval air stations went, Maverick only had good things to say about Miramar. And the only good thing was that Commander Metcalf didn't bounce Mav as soon as he did something stupid. Oh, wait. No. He wasn't a commander anymore. Fancy pants admiral over there.

When your favorite admiral asks you to fill in as an instructor, you accept. Especially when Maverick’s other option was a questionably long deployment in the Mediterranean. Normally, Maverick wouldn’t mind. But he had just finished up [redacted] months doing [redacted] . Maverick deserved a break. Teaching at TOPGUN had to be easier than [redacted] .

Mav even came to base on the weekend. Only because Viper had asked because Mav needed to meet the other instructors. He waltzed his way to the offices. Maverick would even have an office. He’d have to dig out some photos to put up.

“Pete Mitchell,” a voice called as he walked toward the offices, “You’re still kicking?”

“Charlie Blackwood,” Maverick smiled. “You’re still slumming it with us naval aviators?”

Charlie laughed. She had a lovely laugh. Sparkling, warm. She also belonged to the list of powerful men's daughters that Mav kept track of in his head. He definitely didn’t need another family mad at him. Between the Blackwoods and the Benjamins, the Blackwoods would be the worst option. At least what happened with Penny Benjamin was a misunderstanding. Admiral Benjamin wasn't very understanding of it, but Penny smoothed it over. Somehow.

“Where’s Viper?” Maverick asked.

“At home. It’s Sunday,” Charlie replied with a shrug. “Here’s your office.”

The little sign by the door labeled it as Jester’s office. The office was pretty big considering there were two desks shoved in there. The windows overlooked the tarmac.

“I thought I was filling in for Jester,” Mav tapped the sign as they entered the room.

“You are. Talk to Viper if you want your name on there,” Charlie shrugged. “I’m down the hall by Viper’s office.”

“I’m intimately familiar with Viper’s office,” Mav joked.

Charlie laughed again.

“You get Jester’s office to yourself, since he’s out,” Charlie carried on. “I’ve been handling theoreticals and the boring physics parts. You and Hammer will do the practicality and exciting application parts.”

Maverick groaned, “Hammer like Chester Cain?”

Charlie nodded, frowning slightly.

“I hate that guy.”

“He’s not a fan of you,” she informed him. “Especially since you get an actual office and he has to use a section of the classroom.”

“What did he poison Jester for his office?” Mav rolled his eyes.

“Maverick!” Charlie scolded with a giggle.

He knew better. Jester had an unexpected surgery (appendix) and was out for the foreseeable future. At least for this TOPGUN class. They were two weeks into the course. Maverick could suck it up for three weeks and work with Cain.

“Charlie, what’s Cain doing here anyway?” Maverick asked her. “He’s been singing praises of the Air Force’s UAVs for years. Teaching literal humans doesn’t seem like his bag.”

Charlie frowned. She started chewing her lip, a nervous habit. Blackwoods ran deep in DC. Cain could be here to curry favor with her for something. It could just be a run of the mill assignment for Cain too. Or, the secret third option, Cain could have requested it. Not unheard of since TOPGUN was a pretty cushy position. Fly and teach all day.

“Between you and me?” Charlie raised an eyebrow.

“Of course,” Maverick nodded.

She closed the office door and stood closer to Maverick.

“Word back home is that some defense contractor wants to sell more remote controlled toys,” Charlie said quietly, “Air Force is interested, but the Navy won’t buy so long as Viper and this program are effective.”

“Huh,” Mav clicked his tongue, “Think he’s here to snoop?”

“Best case. He did request it.”

“Worst case?”

Charlie shrugged. “Why do you think you’re here?”

“Because Jester had his appendix taken out?”

“Use your brain, Maverick,” Charlie tapped his skull gently. “Out of everyone Viper could have recalled?”

“Charlie, you’re better at this game than I am,” he told her.

Charlie sniffed at him and gave him a look.

“Ensure success,” Charlie explained, “And look good doing it. For you and Viper. The Navy's Maverick wrangler wrangles him again. You prove you can sit still for at least three weeks.”

“See, you’re so much better at this,” Mav praised. “Now, be honest. Do I have to meet up with Cain now? Or can you just catch me up?”

Charlie laughed, “No, sorry. I’m just the liaison today. He’s in his classroom office. I’ll grab your housing keys and meet you over there.”

“Great. Lucky me.”

At least Cain was equally unhappy about their situation as Maverick. He wasn’t outright hostile, at least. They commiserated about having to be there together on a Sunday. They lamented about Viper bailing on them. Cain glossed over the pilots and their backseaters. Charlie hadn’t joined them yet, so Cain complained about her teaching style. All substance; too complex. Everything she said belonged in a textbook. Nobody could possibly apply her theories, but a computer sure could.

Maverick nodded absentmindedly as he flipped through personnel files and lesson plans. Jester left him a bunch of things from TOPGUNs past in their office. Mav could cobble together something from Jester’s old plans and notes from this class.

“They’re all Tomcat duos?” Mav asked.

“Hmm?” Cain looked at him.

“The students.”

“Oh, yeah. All in F-14s.”

“What are we chasing them in?”

“Skyhawks.”

Maverick whistled, “Haven’t flown one of those in a long time. I’ve been in F-5s lately.”

“We can probably find you one,” Charlie announced as she approached the two men.

“What are they like?” Mav continued.

“The pilots? Cocky fucks,” Cain shrugged.

Charlie looked at the personnel folders over Mav’s shoulder.

“These two,” she pointed, “Chatterboxes. This one just had a kid. He came from the birth here. Little distracted, but his RIO keeps him focused. Oh, he's a sweetheart. Tests really well. His pilot does too. Both physics degrees, I think. These two, top of the class in points.”

“For now,” Cain interjected.

Charlie clicked her tongue quietly in Mav's ear. She handed Maverick his housing keys. The trio went over possible lessons. How to best integrate the boring physics with the exciting physics. After a few hours, Maverick excused himself. He still had to check out his house and unpack. He scooped up his paperwork and left.

The on-base housing wasn’t terrible. Especially compared to a shitty little bunk he had to share with someone else. Mav’s place had two bedrooms, one and a half baths, an attached garage, and was completely furnished. All shitty navy issue furnishings, but he didn’t care. He tossed his duffel into a bedroom, left the paperwork on the dining table, and picked up the phone.

“Bradshaw residence,” the other line greeted him.

“Hey, honey! I’m home,” Mav said cheerfully.

The phone exploded in his ear. Mav held it away and winced. He could clearly hear the loud and frantic chatter from one of his favorite Bradshaws with the phone a few inches away still.

“PETER MAVERICK MITCHELL, THIS IS HOW I FIND OUT YOU’RE STATESIDE?! CAROLE! MAV’S STATESIDE!!”

There was a click of a second phone being picked up.

“Petey!?” she exclaimed.

“Hey Carole,” Pete grinned. “Putting that bedroom phone to good use, huh? And you said it was a stupid idea.”

“I said it was stupid when you wanted us to put a phone in our room so you and Goosey could talk until he fell asleep,” Carole snorted. “It’s perfectly practical for this.”

“Where’re you at now, Mav?” Goose chuckled.

“Miramar,” Mav answered. “Viper called me for this TOPGUN class. Jester’s out. You remember Jester?”

“Yeah, yeah. No fun. S’why he didn’t like us, honey.”

“XO on that carrier, right?” Carole asked them.

“Yeah.”

“Mhmm.”

“How long you stateside for, Petey?” Carole kept on.

“Three weeks at least. I’ve got loads of leave I can take, and Viper will probably grant it,” Mav said.

“I’ve got vacation time too. We can fly out closer to graduation,” Goose hummed. “Bradley doesn’t start college until September.”

“How’s he?”

“Oh, you know,” Carole giggled, “Embarrassed by everything we say and do.”

“Teenagers, Mav, fucking teenagers,” Goose lamented.

“He’s goin’ to UT Austin. Go Longhorns!” Carole cheered. “Got a hefty baseball scholarship and everything.”

“Hey, that’s great,” Mav smiled.

They chatted until Maverick’s stomach rumbled. Carole scolded him for not eating. Reluctantly, the Bradshaws hung up. Left, finally, to his own devices, Mav ordered pizza and went back over the pilots’ personnel files again.

There were four sets of aviators and RIOs. They were all young . Late 20s, but that still felt so young. Their official Navy photos looked even younger. Maverick wondered if the photos were from flight school. Their records were pretty good, of course. TOPGUN was for the best of the best.

Chipper and Sundown out of NAS Key West; VF-101 Grim Reapers. They were part of a replacement squadron. It sounded like those two were the permanent fixture, training other, newer aviators before they moved on.

Hollywood and Wolfman out of NAS Oceana; VF-41 Black Aces. Mav had heard of a Prowler crashing on the deck of their carrier a few years ago. They lost three F-14s and three crew. Other than that, they were terribly efficient.

Cougar and Merlin also out of NAS Oceana; VF-143 Pukin’ Dogs. A lot of reconnaissance. If Maverick’s memory served him correctly, VF-143 were the first to do combat reconnaissance in F-14s.

Iceman and Slider out of NAS Jacksonville; VF-102 Diamondbacks. Maverick frowned as he skimmed. They had just gotten back from [redacted] a few months ago. A lot of the information was blacked out. He made a mental note to ask the aviator and RIO after the first class.

Class started at 0800 with Charlie’s lectures. After, Jester would give the practical applications of her fancy physics talk. Cain took over that for the first day. Next, the first set of hops before lunch. They’d run simulations after lunch, maybe have a test, and finally the last set of hops in the afternoon.

All the students flew, in some combination. Four in the morning; four in the afternoon. Jester had been shot down once by Iceman and Slider. Cain had been at least once by everyone. That lended credibility to Maverick's developing “here to sabotage TOPGUN” theory.

“We’ve been going up separately,” Cain explained as he put on his flight suit. “Jester wanted us to start going up together in week four.”

“Fine by me,” Maverick nodded.

“I’ve got Cougar, Merlin, Sundown, and Chipper for day. You can take the other four for afternoon.”

The two superior officers had their own locker room. Brand new too. Viper had made a lot of updates to Miramar since Maverick's last stay. The fancy commander-and-higher locker room was by the offices. Which Maverick thought was hilarious because Cain still had to go all the way back to the classrooms if he forgot something at his desk. Because he didn’t have an office on that side of the building. Maverick, per Viper’s orders, avoided the classrooms that Monday. He was a surprise for the afternoon hops victims. Participants. Same thing.

While everyone played with computers, Maverick went up in a Skyhawk. It wasn’t quite as lithe as he liked, but it would do. Eventually, his two sets of duos were in the air with him. He waited while they searched for him. Comms were on between all three planes (and the base).

“I didn’t even see Hammer go up,” someone said.

“I swear he was still running sims with Blackwood when we left the room,” another one added.

“Maybe they found an extra instructor? Or maybe Jester recovered sooner,” the first person again.

“You think it’s Viper?” the second person laughed.

“No way. Guy hasn’t flown since Korea,” first person.

A third voice chimed in, “Can you two shut up and focus.”

“Eyes peeled,” the fourth and final voice.

Maverick grinned under his mask.

“Sorry Ice,” the first two voices said together.

He could see the two Tomcats searching for him. Maverick had never flown a Tomcat; he’d have to ask Viper if he could get up in one. He wasn’t sure how well it would maneuver against the Skyhawk. He knew from the spec sheets that the younger aviators would have him on speed.

“Slider?” It was the fourth voice again. Iceman, Mav deduced.

“Nothing,” Slider, Mav assumed, answered. The source of the mysterious third voice.

“Maybe Hammer hasn’t launched yet?” Hollywood or Wolfman suggested.

“He couldn’t have if he was still in the classroom,” the other one added.

Mav got bored. He clicked his comms on and soared past them.

“Fight’s on, gentlemen,” he announced.

There was a chorus of “who the fuck was that” over the radio. Maverick chuckled to himself. The aviators, for safety purposes, couldn’t switch to a private channel. Their CO, Maverick in this case (how weird was it he was someone’s CO), had to be able to hear them in case of emergencies. So Maverick got to listen as Iceman and Slider immediately took control.

Iceman took point; Hollywood on his wing. Slider and Wolfman may as well have been speaking a different, backseater language. Mav guessed it was for his location. They’d say a position; their pilots would immediately fall in.

“Wood, got a shot?” Iceman asked.

“Almost, almost, almost,” came Hollywood’s response.

The Skyhawk didn’t have the speed of the Tomcat. It more than made up for it with handling. Mav tipped his nose until the momentum forced the plane up vertically. He braked, he had to, and flew past Hollywood and Wolfman.

“What the fuck!?”

“What happened?!”

“Ice?”

“Hmmph.”

Mav leveled out and got tone.

“That’s tone, gentlemen,” he said.

Hollywood and Wolfman swore as they broke off.

“Then there were two,” Mav tried a joke.

No response over the radio. Mav scanned the skies, but he couldn’t find the second Tomcat. He must have lost them after his cobra maneuver. With all this newfound silence, Maverick wondered how the two aviators were communicating. Their records showed they had been together since flight school. They both attended Annapolis; same graduation year. More deduction, but Mav guessed they knew each other back then too. Spend enough time with anyone, and you could convey a lot without sound.

He saw their shadow by pure chance. Mav probably couldn’t pull off the same stunt twice. Especially not in a plane that wasn’t designed for it. Iceman was good, but Maverick had been flying at least as long as that kid had been alive. Which was to say “but Maverick was better.”

He pulled right but didn’t brake. The Skyhawk curved around and down; the Tomcat followed after a beat. A very brief and unnoticable pause, but a pause nonetheless.

“Ice?”

“Fuck.”

Flying a Skyhawk was like riding a bike apparently.

Maverick was giddy as he announced, “Tone, gentlemen!”

Maverick had a terrible idea. Terribly hilarious. Iceman’s file had been nothing but commendation after praise after praise. Nary a punishment, penalty, nor penance to be found.

“Iceman. Kazansky, right?” Mav put on his best senior officer voice, “I want to see you in Jester’s office after this.”

“Yessir,” there was no hesitation in the younger man’s response.

Mav took his time landing. He contemplated buzzing the tower, but thought better on his first day. Favor for Viper and all that. Maverick figured it would take the younger pilot some time to work up the nerve to actually report to his office immediately. So he showered, blissfully alone, and changed.

Kazansky was still in his flight suit. He stood outside of Jester's/Maverick's office door. He'd probably been there minutes after he landed. Maverick pursed his lips but didn't say anything. He unlocked the door and gestured for Iceman to enter. Mav sat at the empty desk; Kazanksy stood there. Awaiting further instructions.

He was hot; it was unfair to have such a hot student. Kazansky looked like a catalog model. Sharp features, blue eyes, soft lips. His hair was plastered down from sweat and his helmet. The sleeves of his flight suit were pushed up, showing off his thick, tanned arms. Maverick felt his mouth go a bit dry, and he tried not to stare too much.

“You could have showered,” Mav said with a grin.

“You said you wanted to see me, sir,” Kazansky replied.

“I did, didn’t I?”

No response.

“Commander Pete Mitchell, callsign Maverick,” Maverick extended his hand, “I’m filling in for Jester, as you’ve probably guessed.”

Kazansky looked… Confused for a second. Mav guessed he was used to saluting, but the lieutenant shook his hand and introduced himself.

“Have a seat,” Mav pointed to Jester’s desk chair, “I wanna ask you about some things in your file.”

“My file?” Iceman raised an eyebrow. He moved the desk chair and sat.

“Yeah, it’s all blacked out because of Charlie’s clearance I’m guessing.”

“By all means, sir. I’m an open book.”

They chatted. Eventually, Kazansky appeared to relax. Mav tried not to let his gaze linger too long on him. He really did try, but… Well, Mav always had a problem with self control.

Iceman and Slider had also been in the Mediterranean (Mav was unofficially there, but he didn’t say anything about that) aboard the America . They had been on patrol when they were fired upon by Libyan surface-to-air missiles. And again not even a month after that while escorting other jets for another mission. No casualties; impeccable flying. Their CO recommended them for the next TOPGUN class; they flew in a few days before it started.

“Damn, so you really haven’t had a breather,” Mav whistled.

Kazansky shrugged, “Part of the job, sir.”

“I guess.”

Mav couldn’t think of a reason to keep him there. He was about to dismiss the lieutenant when Kazansky started asking him about his own service record. Maverick’s reputation apparently preceded him. Time flew by. Before long, Maverick finally noticed the sun setting over the hangars.

“Shit, kid. It’s getting late,” Mav remarked.

Kazansky flushed, “Sorry, sir.”

“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind. You probably want to shower.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Here,” Maverick scribbled his address and number down, “Whenever you wanna pick this back up. I’m here until graduation.”

Kazansky took the scrap paper and thanked him. He hesitated before saluting and leaving. Maverick hated to see him leave but enjoyed watching him go. Christ, he was depraved. Kazansky was a student. His student. His well toned student with a small waist. Deep eyes… Birthmark in the perfect spot to kiss… Perfect lips… Wonder what sounds he could pull from those lips…

Okay, yeah.

Maverick was definitely in trouble.

No.

He’d be fine. Mav was a professional. He could keep his hands (and everything else) to himself.

Iceman

Iceman was definitely in trouble.

The new instructor looked like he stepped right off a movie set. Gorgeous smile, gorgeous eyes, gorgeous everything. The way his eyes crinkled when Maverick laughed? Gorgeous. His slightly crooked nose? Gorgeous.

He’d heard of Maverick, but he hadn’t had a face for the name. He was a legend, of course; a thorn in the brass’ side. Ice had a million more questions for the commander.

Slider was waiting for him in the locker room. Everyone else was long gone. The RIO continued waiting until his pilot was ready to talk. Ice shucked his flight suit. He desperately kept his thoughts off Maverick as he stood under the water. Slider leaned against the wall, waiting and watching. He wasn’t necessarily watching Ice shower. His gaze drifted past Ice, to the wall behind him.

“You didn't have to wait,” he tried telling his friend.

“I'm your ride, Ice,” Slider replied.

“Oh. Yeah, right.”

“Who even was that? It wasn't Cain. Cougar and them said Hammer was in the classroom.”

“New commander,” Ice willed his tone to be light.

“Jester's replacement?” Slider asked.

Ice nodded.

“What’d he want?”

Iceman shrugged, “Chat, I guess.”

“About what?” Slider raised an eyebrow.

“Prairie Fire and Canyon.”

“Weird.”

“It was alright,” Ice said, “Maverick’s alright.”

“Like Maverick Mitchell?” Slider let out a low whistle. “He’s our new instructor?”

“Guess so.”

Index Next Chapter

#top gun #top gun fanfiction #icemav #fanfiction #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #hot for teacher (psuedochakra)#cross posted on ao3

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