#tom riddle drabbles

[rxsilabeth--er]

let's inagurate this blog with a good note shall we? >:3

Hear me out- on the line of the bullying Tom Riddle agenda Tom's boggart in DADA class is actually the reader about to ruin his whole career because that would be hilarious

☎ Now Calling......Author: "Hello? Hai, yes, thank you for requesting this Hazel, I will surely not disappoint you and hopefully you enjoy reading this, I love bullying Tom as well! Okay, talk to you later! Bye!!"

☎ Now Calling......Synopsis: "Hello! Hai..okay!!...Hmmm....Tom, the prince of Slytherin and feared and admired by many of his fellow peers and students at Hogwarts....find out his worst fear at Defense Against the Dark Arts call with a boggart...but..one second! Why is there a Hufflepuff tie being shown in the human figure of the boggart???"

☎ Now Calling......Warnings: "...nothing...other than Tom Riddle himself as a whole! Anyways....crack..kind of fluff???? Don't know..Bye!! I'm not a funny person!! I know, sorry! I tried my best..."

Scarily Cute Boggart...

Tom didn't really want to move to class, but he still did...He was the Head boy! Of-course he would!!....and because he didn't want you to bully him into doing it... as he sat down Tom was also trying his HARDEST to not put the cruciatus curse on his classmate as he scribbled something in his diary..Waiting for the professor to come as it was their practical...Abraxas beside him gossiping about something...to which Tom definitely wasn't paying attention to..

Finally the professor entered the room, pulling a large rack behind him which seemed to shake and move, making everyone curious...Tom closed his diary and walked ahead to understand things..

"....Good morning! So...today's topic is...can you guess it???" of-course no student could, "..Okay..so in this shoe rack....we have a boggart!" The students then all murmured a bit worriedly, as the closet gave a huge jolt

"Can anyone tell me what a boggart is???" of-course Tom's hand stood up before a few others, "..Boggart is a creature which lives in dark spaces and takes the form of whatever a person fears most."

"..Good job Riddle! 5 points to Slytherin!" the professor said as he explained the boggart's personality, habitat, living conditions, etc. before finally explaining how to repel a boggart.

"Riddikulus!"

"Riddikulus!!" the students repeated even Tom did, he was starting to feel a bad vibe coming from the cupboard and he didn't know how to explain it but he felt as though he would forever be embarrassed after this class...

"..Alright, now Riddle!! Do come forward boy!" the professor said as Tom stepped ahead brushing his worries aside, he can't have that! As the professor held his shoulder and pointed his wand at the rack door,

"..Alright, now..1...2...3" the professor did a spell as the rack knob moved and it flew open, the rack was dark inside and nothing could be seen, but a crouched figure of a person was seen, they straightened their back though still crouched and the sunlight hit their shirt....

a Hufflepuff tie...

A Hufflepuff tie...Tom....the heir of Slytherin, the head boy....Tom Riddle...was scared of a Hufflepuff!? That sounds like the biggest joke anyone has heard...or seen in this case...

Tom on the other hand stood there frozen..His cheeks red and his angrily glaring at the boggart...his wand pointed at the boggart who was now slowly moving forward, the sunshine now fell on it's Hufflepuff tie and mischievous grin...

"..Oh Tommy~ " a similar voice said in a teasing voice..it wasn't even cruel....but instead endearing in a way?

Don't know, but Tom began to shake in either fear or anger and pointed his wand at the boggart...who was still hidden in the shadow, only it's grin and tie showing..

"...Ri...Riddi..Riddkulus!!"...TOM RIDDLE STUTTERED?! and suddenly the boggart was switched into a tiny jack-in-the-box...

"..Good....good job... Good job Tom! fifty points to Slytherin!" the professor said forcing the boggart in as he patted Tom's shoulder..Tom was still frozen turned around and walked away embarrassed for life as Abraxas followed him with a grin asking, "..So...Tommy? What was that???" Abraxas's grin dropped from his lips when Tom glared at...Abraxas left and Tom moved to Slytherin dormitory. Tom walked up the stairs to his dorm to find you already sitting there grinning at a couldron mixed with some type of potions...

Oh god...everyone knew the boggart...and maybe they understand why you were his boggart...if they have experienced your words..even though you're a Hufflepuff....

© This writing work belongs to me, rxsilabeth--er, Aurelia, Rosilabeth, Cerine. Reblogging is appreciated, but plagiarizing or copying my works is forbidden, thank you for reading this and if you like this check out my blog!

[leona-hawthorne]

bfb!mattheo who hears/sees tom fucking u and makes up a whole scenario where he can one up his brother while he staring from the crack in the door?

⊹ ࣪ ˖ boyfriend’s brother!mattheo watching you and tom through the door

warnings ; 18+ mdni, p in v, voyeurism, swearing

₊⊹ navigation ; bfb!mattheo ; au’s ; m.list

he shouldn’t be here. 

he knows that. knows it in the way his fingers curl into fists at his sides, in the way his chest tightens with something worse than anger, something uglier than hate. knows it in the way his breath is fucking shallow, standing there like a goddamn ghost outside tom’s bedroom door, the sliver of space between the wood and the frame just big enough to see you.

and fuck—he wishes he couldn’t. wishes he could turn around, pretend he never heard the first telltale sounds, never saw the way your body moved beneath his brother, never had to watch you like this, spread out, panting, moaning his fucking name. tom. like you meant it.

his jaw clenches as he watches, eyes narrowing, assessing, criticizing. tom's movements are too stiff, too controlled, too fucking careful, like he’s handling glass instead of a girl who needs to be ruined.

his fingers twitch at his sides. tom’s grip on your waist is all wrong. it’s tight, but not tight enough—like he doesn’t even fucking realize what he has in his hands. your hips don’t lift high enough, your legs aren’t spread the way they should be. you need to be tilted forward just a little more—just enough to hit that one spot that makes your breath hitch and your fingers claw at the sheets. tom won’t do it. tom doesn’t know. mattheo wants to fucking kill him for it.

pathetic.

he drags his tongue across his teeth, biting down on his cheek so hard he swears he tastes blood. he could do it better. he would do it better. he’d ruin you. have you trembling, crying his fucking name instead. make you feel it in your bones, make you crave him like sin.

his nails dig into his palms. tom’s voice is steady, collected, not even a goddamn growl in his throat. not desperate. mattheo hates him for it. he hates him for touching you without the kind of obsession that would drive a man mad.

he exhales sharply, his hand dragging down his face, trying to fight off the sick, burning jealousy twisting in his gut. it’s embarrassing, really, standing here, watching, but he can’t help himself. because the thought won’t leave his head—how much better he could make you feel.  

he wonders what you’d sound like if it was him instead. if you’d gasp the same way, if you’d arch the same way. if you’d look back at him with that dazed, hazy expression, lips parted, cheeks flushed, body trembling. he bets you would. he bets you’d look even prettier falling apart for him. bets he could make you shake, make you cry, make you forget every single fucking thing about his brother.

his cock throbs at the thought, and he lets out a sharp exhale, pressing his forehead against the wall, trying to will the heat away. he should leave. he should fucking leave.

but then he hears you whimper, soft and broken, and he sees the way tom barely reacts, the way he doesn’t even acknowledge what a fucking gift he’s been given, and something inside him snaps.

fucking tom. doesn’t deserve you.  

he licks his lips, dragging his teeth over the lower one, and exhales slowly. 

one day, he tells himself, he’s going to ruin you. one day, he’s going to show you exactly what you’ve been missing. and when that day comes, you’ll forget tom riddle ever fucking existed.

© leona-hawthorne 2025. please do not copy, translate or repost any of my writing.

[viperify]

AU | ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ!ᴛᴏᴍ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𖤝 bite marks.

Vampire!Tom, who messily drinks from your thighs until you’re on the verge of passing out—just to reward you with the most mind-blowing, toe-curling orgasm you’ve ever had.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.

warnings: 18+, blood kink, biting, marking, oral f!receiving, fingering, slight dub con ig, vampire tommy who can’t get enough of ur soft thighs ;)

Tom is very serious about taking his time with his favourite meal—you.

Fangs lazily dragging over your already hypersensitive skin, drawing weak whimpers and whines from your bruised lips.

Bite marks here, bite marks there—you are certain both of your thighs are fucking covered in them. Small drops of blood trickle onto your once white bed sheets, staining them a crimson color—your beautiful, expensive satin bedsheets you spent a fortune on—and yet, the dizzying effect of his bite keeps you from complaining.

“Tom— no more, please, can’t— can’t take it,” you breathe shakily, palm half-heartedly trying to push him away.

But you aren’t there yet, and he knows it. He knows you can give him more, you can take more.

“Don’t lie to me, sweetheart.” He purrs, voice still thick with the same hunger as when you just started—and it’s then that you know you are in for a long night.

And so, he finds a spot that he hasn’t tried, hasn’t bitten.

Although they are getting rare.

A single tear falls down your cheek as his sharp teeth sink into your flesh once more, groaning as he tastes the coppery flavour of your sweet, sweet blood—his favourite.

Fingertips digging into your thigh, pinning it to the soft mattress beneath you as though you were his last meal—greedy gulps filling the air, tongue lapping over the fresh wound.

And you can do nothing but take it.

When he finally withdraws—blood staining his lips and chin crimson—his eyes meet yours.

Scarlet eyes, burning through the darkness of the room. You look back with half-lidded eyes, ears ringing, fingertips tingling, dizzy because of how much blood he’s taken from you. Your eyes blink slowly, vision blurry, almost too blurry to notice the satisfied smirk plastered on his face.

“Did so well for me,” he drawls, moving to lean over you—without ever breaking eye contact.

His lips brush against yours in a tender kiss, the metallic taste of your own blood flooding your senses as soon as his skin touches yours. And what he does to you—whether it’s a side effect of his many, many bites, or the sweet sting caused by them—you cannot deny the aching feeling building in your lower stomach.

Legilimens, vampire— you should know better than to think he isn’t aware. Almost ready to drift off to sleep, you don’t immediately notice him between your legs again. Tom offers a raspy hum against your thigh when he feels the wet patch on your panties, gently swiping over it with his thumb—and suddenly, reality crashes down onto you.

A soft mewl leaves your lips, instinctively pressing your thighs together—only for Tom to spread them further apart.

“Look at you, all needy for me.” He purrs, pushing your lace panties to the side, revealing your glistening cunt to his hungry eyes, flickering briefly. “You have done so well. Now let me give you something back, hm?”

A soft nod from your side is all it takes before his tongue delves between your folds, groaning as he tastes your arousal—a deep, low sound you usually only get to hear whenever he’s greedily gulping down your blood.

His hands are firmly wrapped around your thighs, keeping you all spread open for him while he takes his time with you.

No haste.

As if you haven’t already lain sprawled out in front of him for what must be hours.

When his lips finally wrap around your puffy clit, two of his fingers slipping inside of you, stretching you perfectly, curling just right—you feel like you might actually not fucking survive this.

Your hips involuntarily buck against his face, telling him even without words you need more, need to come.

“Greedy girl. Come on, do it. Break for me.”

Tom knows what you like, what you need. Pointy teeth gently brushing over your clit, fingers pressing against your most sensitive spot with each deep, rough thrust.

And then you do break.

Orgasm crashing over you in waves, walls clenching down tight around his digits. All the pent-up pressure releases at once, and for a moment you swear you see stars.

Even with your thighs shaking, broken moans spilling from your lips, he doesn’t stop—drawing out your high for as long as he can. It’s as though he enjoys this as much as you do.

Fuck, he probably does. At his complete mercy.

“That’s it— good girl.”

Only when you whimper in overstimulation does he slow down and finally sit back.

Looking at the mess he’s made of you.

Covered in his bite marks, blood mixing with the leaked arousal on your thighs, chest heaving as you lay boneless on the soft mattress—entirely spent.

“You are art like this, darling. My very own canvas—all for me, forever.”

He takes care of your wounds, cleans the dried blood on your thighs and the sheets, wiping a strand of hair from your face before he places a kiss on your forehead, finally laying down beside you.

“Forever, Tom.”

thank you for reading! feel free to reblog and leave feedback <3 — masterlist. | AUs.

©2025 viperify. please do not copy, translate or claim my work as your own.

[riddleswhcre]

.ᐟ just thinking about tom whispering sweet things

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

“you don’t even know what you do to me, do you?” his voice is quiet, just above a whisper, but there’s a rasp to it, the kind that makes it impossible not to listen.

you’re curled against him, your face half-buried in the pillow, your back pressed against his chest, one of his arms wrapped firmly around your waist. his other hand brushes against your back, slow and deliberate, like he’s tracing patterns only he understands.

he shifts a little closer, his nose brushing against the side of your neck, warm and soft. “you’re always so oblivious,” he murmurs, his lips grazing your skin just barely as he speaks. “do you even realise what it does to me? the way you look at me like i could give you the world… like i’m anything close to deserving of you.”

his hand moves lower, resting against the curve of your hip, holding you in place like he’s worried you might disappear. for someone so composed, so untouchable, there’s a quiet desperation in the way he holds you now—like this is the only time he lets himself unravel, where no one else can see.

“you make me soft,” he admits, his tone dropping lower. “and i hate it.” there’s no malice in the words, though. if anything, there’s something almost bitter in how he says it, like he can’t decide if loving you is his greatest weakness or his greatest strength.

you fight the urge to move, to respond, to let him know you’re awake, but something tells you he wouldn’t say any of this if he thought you could hear.

his lips press lightly against your shoulder, lingering like he’s waiting for the world to collapse beneath him. “but i’d take it, you know. all of it. every soft, pathetic part of me… as long as it means i get to keep you.”

for a moment, he doesn’t move, his head resting against you, his breath warm on your neck. then, just as you think he’s done, he whispers, softer now, “mine,” and presses a kiss to the back of your neck. it’s fleeting, barely there, but it sends something down your spine all the same.

he shifts again, pulling you even closer, and for the first time tonight, he seems at ease. you stay still, heart racing, and wonder what he’d do if he knew.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

𓏲 ࣪₊ ❥ 𓂃 more

soft tom has me in a chokehold rn. thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated.

[animasola86]

SMUT DRABBLES*: Belly Bulge

A/N: So. You may or may not know this about me, but I have a size kink. One of my favorite tropes to write and read is tiny woman/big man. And with that information in mind, I give you something called Belly Bulge. Pretty self-explanatory, right? // As with my other Smut Drabbles (*we're still under 1k, baby, this is a drabble!), you can imagine any character here, or just keep it neutral/anonymous, whatever you like! Warnings for this one are: (obviously) size difference, unprotected sex, choking and I guess breeding kink if you squint.

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! // WORDS: 825 // AO3

She stares at the little bulge with childlike fascination.

Moving her hands over her flat stomach, fingers shaking slightly, she presses down gently. A gasp escapes her when he moves behind her, his big hands on her small breasts, cupping them completely, squeezing, kneading, calloused palms rubbing over her hard nipples. His wide body beneath her, her cushioned rear squished to his lower stomach, shoulders pressing into his chest, his cock so deep inside her she can feel it prodding against her soft skin, literally stretching her limits.

The couch creaks beneath them as he starts thrusting upwards, his strong thighs moving against her feet that are tucked under his legs, her own spread almost painfully wide to give him better access. She watches him slide in and out, her hands rubbing down her mound, fingertips brushing against her clit, sending jolts of pleasure through her body, her folds parting wide with every deep plunge.

She moans, throwing her head back against his shoulder, when his thick cockhead scrapes over that sweet spot, almost rams into it in that position, before slipping deeper, denting her belly from within. She feels it against her palms, the constant nudging that drives her crazy. And the stretch. How he carves his way into her small body, presses between her tight muscles, molding her to his size.

When he had put his length onto her stomach to show her how far he would reach inside her, she had thought it was impossible to fit all of him into her tiny pussy, but he had made it work, inch by hard inch, with shallow snaps of his hips, as he went deeper and deeper, and while she thought the pain would split her in two as he pushed hard against her resisting muscles, she had adjusted, surprisingly quick. Mostly because of his whispered words, his hot breath on her ear, as he encouraged her.

“Shh, it'll be alright, baby. It'll fit. I'll make it fit. You were made for this. You were made for me! Look how well you can take me, all of me... every... single... inch...”

His voice has lulled her, and now his rapid breaths and quiet groans fill her head, his clenched jaw rubbing against her temple as he keeps groping her chest whilst ramming up into her, finding space within her, stretching her, filling her, taking root inside her. He grunts when she presses down on her stomach, meeting his tip as it dents her from within, and it encourages him to move faster, his thigh muscles tensing while he pushes harder, maybe even deeper, slam after slam, nudge after nudge.

She howls and whines, mewls and moans, the sensation almost too much for her to handle. His hands leave her breasts, letting them bounce with every upward thrust; his long fingers move to her throat, curling around her slender neck, applying just enough pressure that she gasps while her eyes roll back; his other hand moves down to join hers, one large palm pressing down hard, forcing her to feel more of him through her soft flesh.

Hammering into her with fervor, his breaths grow ragged while her own quiet down, silenced by how he squeezes her throat. She's seeing stars now, her mouth wide open, saliva gathering in the corners, some dripping down her chin, as he holds her, pushing her towards the edge and far beyond, and she feels her body convulsing, thighs twitching, that tension in her stomach, hot and tight, pushed aside by his large cock hitting all the right spots.

She's already floating, but then his hand leaves her stomach and teases her clit, rough fingertips rubbing hard and fast circles as he keeps pounding into her from beneath, skin slapping against skin, every rapid plunge causing her wetness to squelch out, obscenely loud, a cacophony of sounds that make her head spin even more.

And then she comes, muscles contracting, clamping down on him hard, the wet heat that has built up within her forcing out of her. She cries out soundlessly, eyelids fluttering open, body contorting into an arc that lifts her slightly off him, causing him to sink deeper, making the bulge even bigger, and he stills, an animalistic growl leaving his parted lips as he follows her over the edge, cock twitching, balls tight and pumping, and he grabs her hand and presses it onto her stomach, feeling how he fills her up with spurt after spurt of hot cum.

His other hand eases its grip on her throat, and she gasps, falling against him, panting, head completely empty, while her belly feels so full. His warm lips brush against her sweaty forehead, a tender kiss to calm her down even more. She smiles tiredly before she closes her eyes, her palm over her womb as he pumps it full of him, marking her, breeding her, finding a place for himself deep within her.

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

MORE SMUT DRABBLES:

A steamy shower

Toy

Car Inspection

Tension Relief

Sleepy

On the edge

[girllblogging777]

𝑠𝑙𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛 𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐𝑡 ༉‧₊˚.

↳ to the “heather” trend

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑜 𝑟��𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒

☆ matt is a little cocky about the whole thing. when he realizes you want his sweater for the trend, he’ll make a big show of teasing you.

☆ “oh, so you’re one of those girls now, huh? fine, but if you’re wearing my sweater, everyone’s gonna know who you belong to."

☆ despite the teasing, he hands it over with a grin and won’t stop smirking every time he sees you in it. he might even demand a photo for “evidence.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑡

☆ theo is quiet but observant, so he’s already aware of the trend before you even mention it.

☆ he wordlessly hands it to you on december third with a soft smile. “it’s yours, amore. you know that, right?"

☆ he enjoys the understated intimacy of you wearing his clothes, and if anyone comments on it, he just gives them a knowing smirk.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑧𝑜 𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑘𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑒

☆ enzo is all for it, no hesitation. as soon as he hears about the trend, he’s practically throwing his sweater at you.

☆ "here, babe. take it! honestly, you should’ve asked sooner."

☆ he’s the type to brag to everyone about how good you look in his clothes, and he’ll probably try to convince you to keep it permanently. bonus points if he later steals it back just for fun.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑓𝑜𝑦

☆ draco is not a fan of trends, but when he realizes this one involves you wearing his sweater, he suddenly gets on board. he shrugs off his sweater and hands it to you, acting like it’s no big deal.

☆ "here. you might as well wear mine. can’t have people thinking you belong to someone else."

☆ he pretends to be indifferent, but seeing you in his sweater makes him proud, and he'll walk a little taller all day.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑠𝑒 𝑧𝑎𝑏𝑖𝑛𝑖

☆ blaise catches on pretty quickly, though he pretends not to care at first. when he realizes you're expecting his sweater, he smirks, takes it off, and drapes it over your shoulders with a dramatic flair.

☆ "you didn’t have to start a trend just to get my sweater, love. but I’ll admit, you look better in it than I do."

☆ he makes it seem like he’s doing you a favor, but deep down, he loves how proud you look wearing it.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : happy december third everyone, here’s a sweater for you in honour of “heather” day !!! please like, comment & reblog <3

tell me if you wanna be added to the tag list ! @redeemingvillains @leona-hawthorne @shiftingwithmars @tateshifts @rose-of-the-grave @clar2aa @iris-qt @sp7-mr @deadghosy @deadsnakey @helendeath @jolly4holly @larmesdevanille @dexoq @shiftingwithleah @sunkissedscribbles @chelawrites @myunperfektstorys @yikesitslush @slut-for-fictional-men @romantasyreader28 @witchsrecs @mattiesgf @reidol0gy @kenjikishimotoswifey @2dloveshp @riddlesgrl @nottsangel-recs

[juliet-017]

Kisemis - T.R.

Prefect!academicrival!Tom Riddle x prefect!fem!reader

Minors dni!

Warnings: Dumbification?, oral m!reciving, throat fucking/deep throating, face slapping, hair pulling, begging?, exhibition, few uses of y/l/n, degradation, I tired to make it house neutral the best I could but it might allude or lean to diff houses with diff lines I write so apologies (+ Gryffindor bias), Let me know if I missed anything

Synopsis: Being a prefect whilst holding an academic rivalry with another is excruciating, constantly at eachothers throats, witty banter back and forth. Until one night you find yourselves alone, causing for new feelings to trickle in, only causing more anger and confusion.

a/n: I've been writing so many smuts so fast so I hope this one's up to par as well! Also first time writing oral so hopefully this is good! Also I might write a part two to this piece, it feels deserving plot wise. & apparently the title derived from homestruck, I am not in that fandom at all so uhm if anyone in it is problematic I am not apart of that!

Wc: ~2.3k

Masterlist

The library air was warm and dry, a strict contrast to the damp and cool air from the majority of the castle. You were exhausted, your third night in a row, having volunteered to take the spot of another prefect or two who were feeling unwell.

It was a mistake. A terrible mistake.

You took to sitting up against a table, leaning back against it, and closing your eyes. A chill runs up your spine, the feeling of being watched, unable to spot a person you blame it on a ghost.

Pushing off the table you continue your search, a faint glow from your wand illuminating the space ahead of you. Heading towards the restricted section first, deciding that most unruly students would take advantage of the night to explore those forbidden scrolls before even touching a book that's out in the open. Besides - most in the library after curfew would've fallen asleep whilst studying and they deserved some grace… right?

While heading deeper into the restricted section you hear whispers. Just one voice.

The aroma of sandalwood and spices hits you, alongside a woodsy scent. The signature scent belonging to none other than Tom Riddle. It's easy to hate how fast you pinned that. Hesitantly, you linger around a bookcase, trying to figure out if he's alone or scolding a student.

“Show yourself,” He speaks up before you can even make a decision, wondering how he heard you. “I know you're there so might as well make it easy on yourself.”

With a breath - as if you can get in trouble for patrolling - you round the corner. “Ah, y/l/n, on patrol duty again tonight are you?”

“Couldn't say the same for you, Riddle. I’d’ve thought you'd be busy catching up on your beauty sleep.” You snub, crossing your arms and glaring up at him.

“Hm, could say the same for you. You need it after all.” He hums coldly, his usual smirk playing on his lips. “Now go on, I'm sure you have a student to catch and scold.”

“Well, I’d like to know what you were doing yourself, Riddle. Can't you study in your dorm?” You retort, taking on a quizzical look while approaching him, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. You blame them on anxiety, after all, he has a few inches on you and his way to stock for your liking. Emotionless, to put it simply.

“Well, I could, but here's the fun in that?” He replies, almost amused in his tone as he closes the book when you get closer, sliding it into his bag. “There's no risk in that.”

You eye the book as he bags it, brows furrowing. It's stupid to question him, he’ll just lie, or tell you to shove him off. But what's the harm in trying? “What were you reading?”

“Oh please, like I'd still you.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes and putting the strap of his bag on his shoulder as if to depart.

“Did I say you could go anywhere?” You ask, voice sharp as if you're scolding a first-year. You immediately regret it, but decide that there's no going back now. “I'm the prefect on duty tonight, not you.”

Tom's brows raise, shaking his head and chuckling in amusement as he sets the bag back down. “Well looks like someone decided to be a bit brave tonight.” He remarks, looking you over like a piece of meat.

It makes you squirm.

“Did a Professor even give you permission to come in here?” You press, tilting your head to the side, deciding to just fake it. Hoping that feigning enough bravery will give you some.

“Like you'd actually tell Slughorn I'm in here.” He drawls, swiftly moving and standing right in front of you, forcing you to tilt your head back. “Go on, love,” he taunts. “go on and tell old Sluggy.”

Your expression sours, trying to figure out how to word your response. “I won't be telling him, because you have him wrapped around your finger. I can go straight to Dippet, you know.”

“Oh but you wouldn't do that, would you now?” He presses, reaching back and coiling some of your hair around his finger. “You know that I have the majority of the faculty in my favor.” He hums.

You glare ignoring how the proximity makes you shift, how him playing with your hair makes you want to either push him and run away or drop to your knees and-

“Got you there, didn't I y/l/n?” He taunts, an amused huff escaping him.

“No. I'm just..” You start, biting your lip momentarily. “Am I not allowed to bide time?” You ask rhetorically, trying to keep up the farce. “After all if I won't be getting an answer to my question I should be allowed to give all the silence I want. So what were you doing?”

“Studying.” He hums, tugging on the strand slightly. You wonder if he does this with.. everyone, or something like this to manipulate people, make them unsteady and easy to guide.

“Studying what?”

“None of your business.”

“C’mon, I'm just curious.”

“You just love sticking your nose in everyone's business, don't you?”

“I just want to know what you're studying for Riddle. Is it the next Herbology exam? Perhaps arthrithmaticy, or potions?” You blabber, knowing damn well what you're doing but enjoying pushing his buttons, watching him tick, drawing actual emotion out of him. “Am I not allowed to ask questions?”

Quickly, his hand goes to the back of your head, grappling your hair tightly. “No. But you should learn when to shut your mouth.” He growls, towering over you with ease.

You flinch, looking at him with wide eyes, trying to ignore the fire in your lower abdomen. Your throat runs dry, you have half the mind to come up with an excuse to flee.

“What are you doing out alone anyways? Prefects are supposed to patrol in groups.. aren't they?” He tsks, looking down at you and taking in your expression.

“Hughes said it would be faster this way,” You reply quietly, a whisper, looking anywhere but at his face.

“Eyes on me.” He grumbles, his free hand grabbing your cheeks and squishing them together, demanding eye contact. “Who would've known it just took this to shut you up.”

“You just caught me off guard,” You reply, words muffled, barely audible.

“Hm, what was that?” He taunts, letting go of your cheeks, his hand moving to your shoulder as he forces you down. You resist for a moment before the pull on your hair burns to a point that you have to comply. “Couldn't hear you while thinking about my cock down your throat.”

And that? Perfect, cold, calculating, Tom Riddle talking about fucking you? That shut you up even more, looking up at him with wide eyes as you try to think of a response, a slick growing between your thighs.

“You like the thought of that, don't you? Putting your mouth to better use?” He continues mockingly, unbuckling his belt and looking down at you, his eyes searching for an answer.

You nod, looking up at him, tempted to just undo his trousers yourself. “Please,” You murmur, looking up through your lashes.

Brows raised he huffs, undoing his trousers with his free hand, pulling his boxers down as well. His cock already hard, slapping his lower abdomen. Tom strokes himself, only making himself harder as he looks down at you. “Open, tongue out.” He instructs, watching you with a hungry gaze.

You comply, pathetically soaked at how he's treating you, looking up at him as he taps his tip on your tongue. Tasing his salty precum before he pushes into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag.

He starts with a steady pace, using a table to support him as he takes to fucking your throat, using his leverage and grip on your hair to hold you still while he thrusts. “Throat’s so bloody tight,” He groans, stalling and holding your nose up tight against his pelvis, making you gag before going back to his former thrusting motion. “You look so much prettier with my cock down it.”

You groan around his cock in protest.. or maybe pleasure, brain desperate for oxygen. Tom’s thrusts grow sloppier, desperate. It's almost worth the oxygen deprivation and occasional degrading comments. He speeds up again, his expression contorted, the lewd sounds of your gagging and his frowning filling the library.

You're shocked when he pulls out of your mouth, having thought he'd make you swallow every last drop. The shock subsides when he cums on your face, the thick white substance covering your cheek, running down slowly and dripping onto your robes.

“What the fuck, Riddle!” You hiss, voice a bit dead from the assault on your larynx. “This is brand new!”

A slap to your face shuts you up, making you whine. “Need me to fuck your face again? Clearly, I didn't do it well enough if you're still running your mouth.” He asks, tugging your hair. “Maybe I should, after all, Hughes doesn't seem to care about his fellow prefect's safety.”

“I told you, I agreed-” Tom takes his chances, pressing his tip against your lip when you speak.

“There's better uses for that mouth than witless conversation.” He spats, tapping his cock on your lip prompting you to open it.

You comply, feeling him fuck your throat even harsher, this time making it more painful by bobbing your head with no regard. “Look at you, such a good girl when it comes to cock.” He praises mockingly, speeding up as you gag and choke, finishing in your mouth this time. “Swallow,” He instructs, slowly pulling out of your mouth while watching you do so.

You comply, swallowing it all, looking up at him and not daring to speak. This time, Tom pulls you up harshly by your hair, pinning you up against a bookshelf. His chest to your back, he delivers wet kisses to your neck.

Whining at the sensation you wiggle your hips backward, chasing some pleasure, and Tom complies just enough. Reaching around his hand travels under your skirt to toy with your clothed clit, feeling your wetness through your panties. “Look at you, finally shutting up, all dumb from my cock, aren't you?”

You nod weakly, moaning softly whilst feeling your underwear being pulled down, pooling at your ankles. “Should've thought of this sooner.” He mutters, palming himself before teasing your entrance, growing hard once more. With one slow thrust, he pushes into you, making you feel as if you're being split in two, grabbing onto a self on the bookcase.

You barely have time to adjust before he sets a ruthless pace, a bruising grip on your hips as he thrusts in and out of you reducing you to a moaning and whimpering mess.

“Look at you, finally shutting your mouth. Being such a good slut,” He grunts into your ear, biting at your neck now.

“I hate you.” You whine, the old bookcase shaking as he continues his assault on your cervix.

He scoffs, reaching around with one hand to lightly hold your throat, the other bracing himself on the bookcase. “Sure didn't feel like it when you were letting me use your throat, and she doesn't feel like it now. All wet and willing.” He spats, quickening his pace.

A book falls, and you whine and make a weak attempt at an escape, ceasing when you realize how trapped you are. “What? Scared someone's going to hear? That a ghost or the librarian is going to pop around the corner?” He taunts, continuing.

You curse the bookshelf for being so old and weak as another one falls, moans escaping you as Tom picks up the pace as if willing someone or something to hear and investigate. You dig your nails into the wood, desperate as you start to rock your own hips, meeting his own in an attempt to get more pleasure. “Greedy girl,” Tom chastises, his hand that was previously on your neck traveling down to draw circles on your clit.

“Gonna cum on my cock,” Tom pants out, you're not sure if it's a question or a demand but you nod anyway. The circles become messier, heat forming in your lower abdomen as you start to clench around him.

Before you know it white hot pleasure courses through you, knees buckling slightly as your hips weakly still rut. Shortly after, Tom finishes as well, cumming deep inside of your walls, panting.You barely register your ankles being lifted, feet moved.

You look around, noticing the books that fell, shame coming to your face when you realize what just happened. Who you were just with. Quickly you turn around to look at him. “You bastard, Tom Riddle, you-” You start, walking towards him as he heads back to his bag.

He stops turning and glaring at you, smirking, eyes shimmering with amusement. “What. Are you upset I showed you the night of your life?”

You open your mouth to argue before he hushes you. “I'd be careful with your words, doll. Last thing you want is for your throat to be even more raw tomorrow.”

You cross your arms, pouting. “Now if you'll excuse me I have to get to my dorm. Some of us value our sleep.” He remarks before brushing last you to leave.

You sulk for a moment, trying to figure out what just happened. How you let it happen. It's not till you're actually settling your robes to depart and continue patrolling till you realize you're missing something.

The prick took your underwear.

Edit: uhm okay so this fic is blowing UP anyways if you want tagged for future parts please comment so! Thank you so so much for all the support!! 🩷

[iamgonnagetyouback]

Hiiii! May i have 🍂 Enemies to lover trope with Tom riddle please? (possible hufflepuff reader where she's the opposite of Tom, cheerful, sweet, she's naive, but snaps at him one day because she's tired of him being passive agressive.. if that makes sense) thank you so much my love!

COME TO AN UNDERSTANDING.⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ●ㅤㅤ��� ㅤ ㅤ T. RIDDLE

SUMMARY ৎ୭ you finally snap at tom riddle in potions class, tired of his constant belittling—only to find yourself confronted by him afterward. but instead of more cruelty, he offers something unexpected: respect

WARNINGS ಇ. emotional distress, reader overwhelmed A/N ಇ. hey angel ♡ thank you so much for requesting! <3

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 1,137

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you tucked the letter from your parents into your robes, trying your best to push the weight of its words aside. They meant well, you knew that, but it didn't stop the sting from settling in your chest. Your brother was always the top of his class. We expect nothing less from you.

You bit your lip, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay as you made your way to Potions class. You had always been the type to keep a smile on your face, to greet everyone with a cheerful demeanor—even when things felt overwhelming. But today… today was different.

As you slipped into the classroom, you spotted your potions partner: Tom Riddle. His sharp gaze flickered toward you briefly before returning to the textbook in front of him. His usual cold and indifferent expression never wavered.

Great. Of all days…

Professor Slughorn began the class, instructing everyone to pair up and begin the day’s assignment—a tricky potion that required precision and teamwork. You glanced at Tom, hoping for some semblance of civility between the two of you. But of course, it didn’t take long before his usual comments began.

“You do know dragon blood isn’t part of this, right?” Tom’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he watched you with narrowed eyes, clearly unimpressed by your every move.

You gave a forced smile, trying to maintain your usual upbeat attitude. “I know that, Tom.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying how much he was getting under your skin. “And those roots—don’t chop them. Crush them. Honestly, do you even pay attention in class, or are you too busy making friends with everyone?”

Your hands trembled as you crushed the roots, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Not today, not today, you chanted in your head, trying to keep calm. But he just kept going.

“I don’t know why Professor Slughorn keeps pairing us together,” Tom muttered. “It’s clear you’re more suited to Herbology than Potions. Or perhaps Charms—something simple enough for a—”

“Enough!” You slammed the pestle down onto the table, your voice shaking with emotion. “I’ve had enough of your stupid comments, Tom!”

"I’ve had enough of you!" you burst out, voice breaking. "I might be cheerful and positive, but that doesn’t mean I’m weak. I’ve been trying my best, and you—" You jabbed a finger at his chest, "you don’t get to tell me what I am!"

Tom blinked, momentarily taken aback. It was rare for anyone to stand up to him, let alone you—the ever-smiling, ever-naive Hufflepuff. But you weren’t finished.

"You think you know everything, don’t you? You think being cold and calculating makes you superior, but guess what? Being kind takes strength too. And maybe if you weren’t so consumed by your own darkness, you’d see that!"

The room went silent, every student turning to look at you. Even Professor Slughorn paused in his lecture, his eyes wide with surprise. You never yelled. You were the happy, positive one. The sweet Hufflepuff who always had a kind word for everyone. But now, the tears you had been holding back were threatening to spill over.

Tom stared at you, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. But he quickly masked it with his usual disdain.

Without another word, you grabbed your bag and stormed out of the classroom, ignoring the whispers that followed you. The second you were out of sight, you let the tears fall, your pace quickening as you hurried through the empty halls.

You had tried so hard. Your parents' expectations, your constant need to prove yourself, and then Tom—the boy who always seemed to find a way to belittle everything you did. It was too much. You couldn’t take it anymore.

You found yourself in an empty corridor, leaning against the cold stone wall as you tried to steady your breathing. The tears still flowed, but you didn’t care. For once, you let yourself feel the weight of everything.

“Running away isn’t going to fix your mistakes.”

You turned to see Tom standing a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest, that same infuriating smirk on his face. How had he found you so quickly?

“Leave me alone, Tom,” you whispered, wiping at your eyes.

“Why should I?” he replied, taking a step closer. “You’re the one who stormed out like a child.”

Your temper flared again, and you shot him a glare. “Because I can’t stand you!” The words came out harsher than you intended, but they were true. “You think you’re better than everyone else. You constantly belittle me, make me feel like I’m useless, and I’m tired of it!”

For the first time, Tom’s smirk faltered. He took another step toward you, his voice quieter this time. “You’re not useless.”

You blinked, surprised by his sudden change in tone. “What?”

Tom’s jaw clenched as if he was struggling with what to say next. “You’re… infuriatingly cheerful, yes. And naive. But…” He paused, his dark eyes locking with yours. “But you’re not useless.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. This was not the Tom Riddle you were used to—the one who constantly mocked you.

“I only criticize you because you could be better,” he continued, his voice low. “You have potential, but you waste it on trivial things.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “So, what? You’ve been insulting me because… you think I have potential?”

Tom let out a frustrated sigh. “You’re not as dull as the rest of them. That’s all I’m saying.”

You stared at him, unsure of how to respond. The tension between the two of you was palpable, the air thick with unspoken emotions. You could still feel the sting of his words from earlier, but there was something else there now—something softer, almost vulnerable.

“Tom…”

Before you could say anything else, he stepped closer, his gaze intense. “I don’t hate you. But your optimism—it’s infuriating.”

You let out a small laugh, despite everything. “I’ve noticed.”

There was a long pause as the two of you stood there, the silence between you heavy but not uncomfortable anymore. Finally, Tom spoke again, his voice softer than before.

“Perhaps… I could tolerate it. Your cheerfulness.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. Was he—was this Tom Riddle trying to make peace with you?

“And maybe,” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips, “I could tolerate your endless criticisms.”

Tom’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile, and for a moment, you thought you saw a glimmer of something warmer in his cold demeanor.

“Well then,” he said quietly, “it seems we’ve come to an understanding.”

You nodded, the weight on your chest finally lifting just a little. Maybe things between the two of you weren’t so hopeless after all.

©iamgonnagetyouback౨ৎ please refrain from copying, translating, or reposting any of my work

[nottswitch]

⋆˙⟡♡ VENUS IN SCORPIO

venus in scorpio keeps their walls up at all times, not letting anyone past the cold, unfeeling facade. but beyond the mask lie raw passion and power. if a scorpio venus lets you in, but you end up toying with their emotions instead, you can expect yourself to end up on the receiving end of their… displeasure.

tom riddle x reader

warnings: 18+ mdni, brat taming, face slapping, choking, hints at oral (m receiving)

nav // event / more

"on your knees."

"no."

you stand defiantly, arms crossed on your chest as you regard tom with narrowed eyes. you see the slight clench in his jaw, and the little movement fills you with pride. it’s not often that he reacts to all the bullshit you seem to be constantly pulling, but this time, you might’ve gone too far – and you’re enjoying it far too much for your own good.

"i could make you," he says calmly, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow, yet there’s an undeniable strain to his voice. no one else would notice, but you’ve known tom for far too long not to. "i will make you."

you scoff, lifting up your chin to look more confident, even though tom’s intense gaze is doing a great job at pinning you down. "you can try."

tom doesn’t have to be asked twice. with two long strides, he walks up to you, his eyes flicking up and down your body for a split second. next thing you know, his hand is wrapped around your throat, fingers tightly curling into your tender flesh as he tugs you down. your knees give out without much resistance, roughly thumping against the floor – would’ve hurt more, but a rug provides a cushion.

"you just love being a brat, don’t you?"

your breath gets stuck in your throat as you take a sharp inhale, yet your defiance doesn’t seem to fade away just yet. you look up, taking in tom’s features, pulled together in a small scowl. good, you think, you’re getting a reaction.

"how did you know?" you ask, letting a smirk tug at the corner of your lips – you just know it will irritate him more, which is exactly what you want.

tom tilts his head to the side a bit, bringing his free hand to your face. his thumb glides over your bottom lip, the gesture almost tender, before it’s suddenly pulled away. a sharp slap lands on your cheek, but his hand on your throat doesn’t let your head fall to the side. you hiss, biting your lip to stifle a sound, but the effect can’t be ignored – heat starts coiling low in your stomach, and you clench your thighs together, searching for friction.

"stop that." tom’s foot shifts, pressing at your knee to stop your legs from getting any closer to each other. you try again, but his stance is firm, his foot firmly on the floor, unmoving. his fingers dig further into your neck, tugging you closer to his crotch. you can see the bulge that’s starting to form there, and a smirk is back on your lips, your eyelashes fluttering as you look up at him again.

"what if i don’t?" you ask, your voice just a little shaky, just a little treacherous of your own arousal. tom’s expression doesn’t change, but you can feel his hand moving before his palm connects with your cheek again, leaving a budding yet strangely pleasant sting in its wake.

"then i’ll make you. over and over again."

[glowinstone]

Your Tom Riddles Girlfriend

a head cannon that makes you giggle

ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ tom who always is squeezing your thigh or ass any chance he gets. He quite literally has to be touching you at all times. Your his lifeline

ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ tom who will kiss you good night every night but it’s not really a kiss… it’s a full on make out and his hand is always somehow on your neck…

ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ tom who shows his love by getting into fights for you… he knows you secretly love seeing blood on him despite your protests. Having a man who fights for you is somewhat… hot.

ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ tom who has a hand on the back of your neck as you walk through the halls. To class, to the library, to meals, and hell yeah even to hogsmead. You love when he takes control and you’re definitely not shy about it.

ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ tom who buys you everything because he loves seeing you in items he’s bought. He likes knowing your taken care of and he absolutely loves spoiling you. And fine, he likes everyone knowing your his and his only.

ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ tom who quite literally hates everyone besides you and no one understands how or why. He doesn’t either and that’s the one thing he’s fine with.

ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ tom who has maybe-just a little bit- corrupted you and now your his favorite dark witch who he’d get on his knees for. You two are going to rule the world some day…

ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ tom who hexes anyone and any boy who even slightly looks in your direction. He does this when you’re angry at him for getting in fights.

ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ tom who at this point doesn’t leave your side.. and maybe your okay with that…

︵‿୨♱୧‿︵

Yes another tom riddle blurb because i love a toxic man who is obsessed with his girl. SUE ME

[obxsluts]

Saints & Sinners - T.R.

!warning!minorsdni, bdsm, drugs/alcohol use, violence

word count: 2.9k

Pairing: Tom Riddle x you

Slytherin’s annual Saints & Sinners party was the only night of the year where indulgence wasn’t just encouraged—it was expected. And you were in the mood to sin.

The lace clung to your thighs, the delicate garters stretched taut as you adjusted the clips, breath hitching when Bellatrix pulled the corset strings even tighter. “Fucking hell, Bella—”

“Oh, shut up,” she snickered, giving the laces one last vicious tug. Your tits nearly spilled over the top. Perfect. You weren’t one for dressing up. Even on a good day, your tie was loose, your uniform skirt wrinkled from the way you constantly tucked your legs under yourself in class. It wasn’t that you didn’t care—it was just that other things mattered more.

Like staying up all night with a certain someone, legs spread over his lap, lips bitten raw, thighs trembling.

Tom fucking Riddle.

It was stupid, honestly. The way he occupied your thoughts, the way he got under your skin. How he acted like he owned you but refused to say it outright. And you let him—again and again and again—because you liked how it felt, let him hurt you.

The mirror reflected a version of yourself you barely recognized. Lips slicked with gloss, a dark kohl rim lining your eyes, skin glowing under candlelight. You looked fucking dangerous. Bellatrix stepped back, admiring her work before smirking at you. “Merlin, you’re a whore,” she teased, smoothing the fabric over your chest.

“you love it,” you mused, smacking your lips together before turning to grab the bottle of Firewhiskey off your desk. You poured two shots, handing one off to Bella. “To bad decisions.”

“Only the best kind” she grinned, clinking her glass against yours before throwing it back. The burn in your throat was nothing compared to the way anticipation curled in your stomach.

The boys were waiting. And he would be there.

Not that you were dressing like this for him. Of course not. It wasn’t as if you were picturing the look on his face when he saw you like this. Or thinking about the way his fingers would tighten around his glass, his jaw going rigid. It wasn’t like you wanted to drive him mad, to make him jealous—totally, absolutely not.

“Alright,” you said, grabbing the bottle of Firewhiskey from the desk. “One more before we go.”

Bell laughed, biting her lip. “Oh, you are trying to die tonight.”

Maybe. But if you were going to Hell, you were going in lace and stilettos.

Bellatrix linked her arm through yours as you both stumbled through the corridors, the alcohol already making you lightheaded. You barely noticed when you arrived at Malfoy and Nott’s dorm, pushing the door open without a care.

The boys were already there, draped across the sofas in tailored black, a haze of smoke curling in the air—every last one of them looking like sin incarnate. But one was missing.

Tom Riddle was nowhere to be seen.

Where the fuck was he?

Bellatrix, unfazed, made a beeline for Malfoy’s stash. “Abraxas, give me the strongest shit you’ve got. No downers.”

You laughed, watching her dig through his collection of illicit substances. Your mind wasn’t on whatever poisons she was about to ingest. No, your mind was on Tom, and how utterly ravenous you were for his attention.

Oh. You had spoken too soon. A presence at your back. The heat of a hand on your waist, firm fingers moving you aside. And then—his voice, dark and smooth as ever.

“You’re in my way, princess.”

Your breath caught. His touch was fleeting as you swallowed hard, turning to watch him stride past you as if you weren’t even there. He greeted Nott and Rosier, taking a drink from Bellatrix without so much as a thank you before sinking into the sofa. His eyes flickered up at you, dark and unreadable.

And then, as if daring you—he dragged his gaze down, lingering shamelessly on the curve of your hips, your tits, the garters at your thighs, the sheer stockings hugging your legs.

Why that arrogant bastard.

You strode toward him, your heels clicking against the floor and You plucked the drink from his grasp without asking, bringing it to your lips. The burn of whatever the fuck it was nearly made you choke. Definitely not firewhiskey. Maybe absinthe. Maybe something worse, you had to keep yourself from gagging.

“That drink is filthy,” you muttered, handing it back.

Tom looked up at you lazily, his gaze trailing from your lips, down your throat, lower, lower—until it settled exactly where you wanted it to.

“Yeah,” he murmured, tilting his head. “I wouldn’t say that’s the filthiest thing in here.”

You didn’t let your smirk falter. Oh, if only he knew how much that pleased you instead of pissing you off. Instead of answering, you turned on your heel and walked away. You knew he was watching. Knew he was drinking in the sight of your ass, barely covered by the sheer lace of your dress, the same one he’d bent you over just last week, fingers buried in your mouth to keep you quiet while he ruined you.

He couldn’t do shit about it.

And that? That was the best fucking part.

The party was in full swing, the air thick with the scent of firewhiskey, expensive cigars, and the underlying electricity of debauchery. The Saints & Sinners party was a tradition as old as Slytherin House itself—an exclusive, unhinged, beautifully depraved event where only the elite were welcome.

And you? You were made for it.

Everywhere you turned, Slytherins and their carefully selected company indulged in the wicked excess of the night. Mulciber and Avery had a table littered with shot glasses and cigarette ash, their laughter curling into the heavy, perfumed air. Lestrange was already drunk, leaning too close to some Ravenclaw girl who looked both delighted and terrified. Realizing you didn’t see Tom again was irritating, whatever, you had better things than to wait for him.

Instead, you turned your attention to Orion Black, the heir to one of the oldest, wealthiest pureblood families—gorgeous, arrogant, and so desperately in love with the idea of you. He had been since your fifth year, and despite his best efforts, the boy couldn’t hide it for shit. He was the type of man who thought he was subtle, but the way his gaze would drop to your lips, the way he’d adjust his robes every time you so much as breathed in his direction? Pathetic, really but useful nonetheless.

You leaned in closer to him, your lips barely brushing his ear as you reached for the bottle on the table, pouring yourself another shot. You could feel his sharp inhale, his knuckles going white around his glass.

Orion wanted you. Always had.

But he wasn’t the one you wanted to suffer for it.

Tom Riddle was.

Orion stares. His hand hovers at your waist like he’s debating whether or not he has permission to touch you. The answer is no. But he doesn’t need to know that just yet.

“You look—” He swallows hard. “You look fucking insane.”

You tilt your head. “Yeah?”

His jaw is tight, fingers flexing at his sides. He’s trying so fucking hard to act like he’s not losing his mind over you, over the way you’re looking at him like he might actually have a chance.

It would almost be cute if it wasn’t so fucking pathetic.

“Yeah.” His voice is rough, “You know you do.”

You smile. Sweet, slow, your eyes looking up at him through your dark lashes. Then, just because you fucking can, you reach out and drag your fingers along the collar of his shirt, adjusting it like you actually give a fuck about the way it sits against his throat.

You didn’t let it linger for too long. Pulling your fingers away, you felt his body stiffen, eyes widening in disbelief.

And then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him. Tom Riddle.

He was standing a few feet away, lent against a green marble pillar. The moment he saw you looking, his expression darkened, lips curling into that sly, twisted smile that always made your pulse race. There was no hiding the way you felt about him, no pretending like you weren't aching for the chaos he brought.

All the while, Orion had been talking—what about, you weren’t sure. Something about how he could drink more than anyone else, something about how Mulciber had nearly passed out last year after five shots. You let him, pretending to listen, nodding along as the alcohol warmed your stomach, making you feel light, untethered.

Orion, ever the oblivious fool, hadn't caught onto the shift. His eyes darted from you to Tom, confusion flickering over his face.

“Riddle,” he said, his voice caught somewhere between confrontation and panic, trying to get Tom’s attention but clearly nervous about how he might react. "What the hell are you staring at?"

You knew it wasn’t Orion Tom was watching. His eyes were only on you, and that was exactly where you wanted him. But that’s when Tom spoke, his voice cold and laced. “Really, Black? This is what you’ve been reduced to? Bragging about alcohol tolerance to impress a girl who isn’t even listening to you?”

Tom didn't look away, his lips twisting into something darker, amused. "You're out of your depth, Black. You might want to sober up before you start making a fool of yourself."

Orion’s jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists. "Fuck you," he spat.

You rolled your eyes, trying to intervene. “Tom, come on, don’t start. It’s not that serious.”

But Tom had already made up his mind. He smirked, eyes flashing with amusement, and spoke low, just for you and Orion to hear. "No, it’s not serious, is it? Just a drunk idiot thinking he can impress someone who doesn’t want him."

Orion wasn’t having it. His face flushed red as he moved to shove Tom, anger and alcohol clouding his judgment. The movement was so fast, so reckless that you barely saw it coming.

And then, everything happened at once.

Orion’s fist swung toward Tom, but with a speed you could never hope to match, Tom, sidestepping with perfect reflexes. You should’ve been paying attention, but you weren’t. You were too focused on Tom’s eyes, the way he moved.

The next thing you knew, you were staggered by the force of a punch hitting your cheek. Pain shot through you, sharp and stinging. You blinked, disoriented, blood trickling from the cut on your face. You barely registered the explosion of anger on Tom’s face as he turned on Orion.

"You fucking moron," Tom hissed, stepping forward, his fist connecting with Orion’s face with a sickening crack. "Get the hell out of here before I make you regret it and next time, try hitting the person you were aiming for."

Orion, groaning from the impact, staggered back, but it was Abraxas Malfoy who appeared next, ready to diffuse the situation. He didn’t seem surprised by what had happened, but he stepped in, pulling Orion away with a knowing look in his eyes.

Tom’s eyes were on you, though. The anger that had surged through him now simmered into a possessive kind of fury. He reached out to you, his hands gentle but firm as he cupped your face, inspecting the cut that was already starting to bleed.

“You alright?” he asked, voice now soft.You blinked up at him, the alcohol still fogging your brain, the sharp sting of pain mixing strangely with the warmth in your veins. “M’fine,” you muttered, then frowned when you saw his hand. “Your knuckles.”

Tom let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he studied you. “You just got punched in the face, and you’re worried about me?”

You hummed, barely registering when his arm slid around your waist, steadying you as your balance wavered. “I mean…it looks bad.”

He rolled his eyes, but the amusement didn’t leave his face. “You’re ridiculous.”

He paused, “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

The hallway was quieter, only the distant pulse of music vibrating through the walls. His hand never left your waist as he guided you down the corridor, fingers pressing firmly, possessively. When he pushed open the bathroom door, he pulled you inside, locking it behind him with a sharp click.

“Sit,” he ordered, and before you could protest, his hands gripped your hips and lifted you with ease, setting you on the counter. The cool porcelain kissed your thighs, and only then did you realize how exposed you were—your dress had ridden up, bunching at your waist, baring the delicate lace of your lingerie. The only thing keeping it from rising higher was the corset cinched tight around your torso.

Tom didn’t react immediately. His expression remained impassive as he grabbed a clean towel, wetting it under the tap. It wasn’t until he turned back that you noticed. He wasn’t looking at your face.

You smirked, the alcohol making you bold. “My eyes are up here, Riddle.”

His jaw twitched, but he said nothing as he stepped closer, dabbing gently at the cut on your cheek. You winced at the sting, but it was nothing compared to the heat burning through you. His free hand trailed down, fingers along the inside of your thigh, barely brushing where you needed him most. The contact made you whimper softly, shifting forward, desperate. “Something the matter princess?”

You didn’t answer, just bit your lip and rocked your hips toward his hand. He slipped his fingers beneath the lace, running two along your slick folds, groaning at how wet you already were.

Grabbing your chin as he kissed you softly, not preparing you for when he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them in just the right way to make your back arch, a broken moan spilling from your lips. He fucked you with his fingers, slow and deliberate, dragging it out, making you squirm. You moaned against his mouth, your own hands tangling in his hair, tugging hard. His cock pressed insistently against your thigh through his trousers, and you were suddenly desperate. Your hand fumbled for his belt, desperate, tugging, and he smirked at your impatience. But he didn’t stop you. If anything, the sight of you like this—drunk, needy, desperate for him—only made him harder.

You barely registered when you slid off the counter, sinking to your knees before him, yanking at his trousers until you freed him. He was thick, hard, and already leaking at the tip, and fuck, you wanted him.

You wasted no time, licking a stripe up his length before taking him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked. A sharp inhale above you, and then his fingers were in your hair, gripping tight guiding your movements as you sucked, licked, let saliva spill down your chin. He watched you with that same unreadable intensity, his own breath ragged as he fought to keep control.

“Look at you,” he grunted, voice strained.

You moaned around him, taking him deeper, the feeling of his cock stretching your throat making your thighs clench. He pulled you off him suddenly, yanking you to your feet before spinning you around, bending you over the sink.

The sound of fabric tearing filled the small space, and you gasped as cool air met your bare skin. He had ripped your corset clean off, along with your panties, leaving you completely exposed.

“Fuck, Riddle—”

A sharp slap to your ass made you whimper, and then he was lining himself up behind you, teasing you with the head of his cock. You tried to push back, but his hands gripped your hips, holding you still.

“So impatient,” he murmured, amusement laced with something darker.

You turned your head, meeting his gaze in the mirror, eyes burning with frustration and need. “Then do something about it.”

His grip tightened. And then he slammed into you, stretching you wide, knocking the breath from your lungs. You cried out, fingers gripping the edge of the sink, barely able to hold yourself up as he set a brutal pace, fucking you hard enough that the mirror shook. His hand wrapped around your throat pushing your head up to look at yourself in the mirror. Seeing him behind you, the way he moved your body as he thrusted into you, his biceps flexing as he tightened his grip on your waist. The only sounds in the bathroom were your moans, his grunts and the filthy slap of skin on skin. He reached around, fingers circling your clit, pushing you closer, closer—cunt clenching as you came hard around him, crying his name out loudly. Tom groaned, thrusts turning volatile before he buried himself deep, cumming inside you.

For a moment, the only sound was your ragged breathing. As his lips ghosted over your shoulder, almost gentle, soft. A contradiction to everything he was, or at least tried to be.

“Saints and sinners indeed,” he said, voice still thick with pleasure.

You laughed, breathless, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “Guess we know which one you are.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

a/n: attached to him like a whorecrux

ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀ ᴄʀᴇᴅ: @ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ

MASTERLIST

[leona-hawthorne]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ riding boyfriend’s brother!mattheo with tom at the door

warnings ; 18+ mdni, fem!reader, unprotected p in v, face slapping, choking, dirty talk, finger sucking (?), cheating

₊⊹ navigation ; bfb!mattheo ; au’s ; m.list

mattheo's fingers dig into your thighs, the heat of his palms branding your skin as you grind down on him, the weight of what you’re doing lost somewhere between the haze of arousal and the sharp edge of knowing you shouldn’t. knowing this is wrong. knowing you’re on top of your boyfriend’s brother, his hands gripping your ass like he owns it, his cock buried so fucking deep you can barely breathe.

"you should be fucking ashamed of yourself," he murmurs against your skin, voice dripping with mockery, his breath hot where it ghosts over your jaw. his fingers are bruising into your hips, keeping you where he wants you, dragging you down onto his cock at a pace that has your nails digging into his shoulders, useless in stopping him.  

"shut up," you hiss, even as your thighs shake from how deep he is, even as your body betrays you and clenches around him like it’s starved for it. mattheo chuckles, low and taunting. 

and then it happens. a sharp knock at the door.

“love?” tom’s voice is right there, on the other side of the wood. “why is the door locked?”

your heart slams into your ribs, your body going rigid as mattheo smirks up at you, completely unbothered. he’s still inside you, still hard, and now his hands are sliding up your waist, like he’s daring you to move, daring you to react.

tom knocks again. “are you in there?”

mattheo fucking smiles.  

you barely register your own voice when you respond, breathless and high-pitched. “y-yeah! just—just changing, tom, one second!”

mattheo’s amusement is damn near palpable. you can feel the low laugh rumbling in his chest, the way he’s seconds away from ruining you, from saying something that will have your entire life crumbling at your feet. without thinking, you slap a hand over his mouth, the other wrapping around his throat in a desperate attempt to shut him up.

“don’t,” you whisper with wide eyes, your voice just loud enough for him to hear, just soft enough that tom won’t.  

his lashes flutter. he fucking moans. it’s quiet, muffled against your palm, but you hear it. you feel the vibration of it against your skin, the way his adam’s apple bobs under your fingers as his smirk deepens, those dark eyes gleaming with something downright depraved.

and then his lips part, his tongue flicking out to drag wet heat against your palm.  

your stomach twists.  

"you don’t want him to hear, huh?" he mumbles when you pull your hand away, smug and cruel, eyes dark with something lethal.  

"obviously," you snap, but you already know you’ve fucked up, because mattheo's grin stretches wide like a predator who’s caught its prey, head tilting against the pillows as he watches you, eats up the way your chest rises and falls, the way you’re still fucking seated on his cock while your boyfriend stands just outside the door.  

"gag me then," he taunts, his voice nothing but pure sin. "if you’re so desperate to keep quiet."  

it’s the way he says it. so easy. so casual. like he isn’t already pushing every single fucking limit. like he isn’t already unraveling you piece by piece. you snap before you can think twice, shoving your fingers into his mouth, pressing down against his tongue in warning.

his reaction is immediate. his lips wrap around them, a hot, wet heat as his tongue swirls, slow and deliberate, teasing like he has all the fucking time in the world, making a show of it just to watch your face twist in something you refuse to name. your thighs involuntarily twitch where they’re straddling him.  

his lashes flutter, gaze hazy as he watches you, eyes so fucking smug it makes you want to slap him.

so you do.

your palm collides with his cheek, the sharp sound of it echoing through the room. mattheo groans, half-lidded eyes darkening as his hips jolt up into yours, dragging a choked noise from your throat. his hands tighten on your waist, his nails biting into your skin as his smirk deepens.

“oh, you little minx,” he murmurs around your fingers, voice rough, wrecked.

“you’re fucking sick,” you hiss, but your thighs are trembling and he fucking knows it.

“oh, i know.” his hands slide lower, squeezing your ass, dragging you forward until you can feel every inch of him pressing into you. his breath fans against your skin, words thick with satisfaction. your saliva covered fingers draw out of his mouth. “but i also know that you fucking love it.”

your breath stutters. your chest tightens. because he’s right. you do. and when his grip tightens and he pulls your hips down again, forcing you to move, forcing you to keep going, your resolve shatters completely.

“tell me, baby,” mattheo purrs, rocking into you slow, teasing, dragging the pleasure out until your fingers are curling against his jaw. his smirk is still there, lazy, smug, victorious. “are you sick too?”

© leona-hawthorne 2025. please do not copy, translate or repost any of my writing.

[rafesslxt]

tom riddle headcanons with a reader who is bubbly, likes to wear too much pink, is naive etc (she could still be a slytherin, just not the evil sterotype yk) this is my first time requesting something i really liked your headcanons<:

PRETTY IN PINK

warnings: fluff, some tears, mention of sick family member

note: english is not my first language + this is a little rushed so excuse me pleeease

❀ y/n loves pink since she was a little kid. it almost came naturally

❀ when Tom first met her, he felt like he was in a feverdream. you crushed against him and stumbled backwards a little, his right arm wrapping around your middle to catch you while his body didn‘t even budged. "oh! hi! thank you so much wow uh i guess i didn‘t really see you. I mean you‘re really tall so i guess it‘s my fault for not seeing you since you couldn‘t be taller right? I‘m y/n by the way, I‘m a Slytherin too! You‘re Tom, right? I heard a lot about you and –" "Do you even breathe?"

❀ since that day you wouldn‘t get out of his head. he always catched your sweet perfume - matching your whole aesthetic in the hallway no matter which time or day it was. It lingered around him like a spell.

❀ he always had such a poker face no matter what his emotions deep down were – he never showed them. He only smiled out of formality or to be charming. Then there was you - always smiling, laughing, giggling at everything. There was nothing and no one that wasn‘t able to make you smile.

❀ one evening when everyone was outside the castle to watch a quidditsch game, ravenclaw against gryffindor, Tom decided to walk into the library. It was even quieter than usual when the room was full of students. He sat down in his usual spot pulled out some homework. After a few hours of reading, he heard a quiete giggling coming from a few bookshelfs behind him. His curiosity got the best of him and he searched for the source of the disturbing sound. he walked around the bookshelf and looked right at you with your owl next to you. "oh hey tom!" your voice sounded high pitched as you waved at him. "I didn‘t see you when you walked in! How are you? What are you doing he-" again, he intereupted you. "Can you be quiet?" "oh sorry!" you whisper yelled at him realizing he might wanted to study and needed a quiet place.

❀ you were good with almost everyone in school. everyone in your year greeted you like you did too. helping everyone felt natural to you since you were so caring and loved being there for your friends and even strangers

❀ one night tho, you felt as alone as you never did before. Tom found you sitting alone at the astronomy tower on the wet ground in your light pink floral dress, while it was pouring. and even tho he wasn‘t able to see your tears during the rain on your face, he could see your puffy lips, red eyes and nose. oh, and the heartbreaking look ln your face. "what are you doing out here?" he opened his umbrella and crouched down in front of you, holding the umbrella over you both

❀ you tried not to sob to loud and looked away. "i came outside and uh - it started pouring but–" "i asked what you‘re doing here, y/n." you took a deep, shaky breath before you answered his question properly. "my dad wrote me today and.. my mom is sick.. it‘s not getting worse bit also not better and i‘m so scared that sonethings going to happen to her- i mean-" another sob leaves your throat. "she my mom.."

❀ tom didn‘t know what do do or say, to make you feel better. so he just helped you stand up and took you back inside into the warmth of the castle. he folded the umbrella together before he took of his jacket. "here.. put this on." he says, wrapping it around your shaking body before you could even grab it by yourself. he guided you through the floors and walls, until you both were in your common room. he sat you down on the couch in front of the fire to dry up again.

❀ "thank you tom.." you whispered after a while as you two sat there next to each other in silence. his presence alone comforting enough.

❀ that night was the start of your friendship. you sat next to each other at breakfast and dinner, in class, went studying together, visited hogsmead on the weekends. that night was the start of a very long friendship and the start of a very deep bond.

taglist | masterlist

tags: @supernaturaldawning @belle-blue @cardibre91 @rriddlexx @aussiehufflepuff @aegonsslxt @helendeath @theblogformydeluluself @juliet-017 @lilith28zero @delacourdarling

xoxo sarah <3

[riddleswhcre]

────۶ৎ hoe

tom riddle doesn’t know how to be gentle. good thing you don’t want him to be.

warnings: smut, degradation, choking, dom!tom, creampie, mild dumbification, brat-taming.

ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: inspired by i love you hoe by 9lives & odetari. enjoy <3

𓏲 ࣪₊ ❥ 𓂃 more

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

"you love it when i fuck you like this, don’t you?"

his voice is silk and venom, curling around you like a curse, like a promise. tom riddle isn’t gentle. tom riddle doesn’t know how to be gentle.

his fingers are wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to make you dizzy, just enough to make you feel owned. he’s got you bent over his desk, robes bunched up around your waist, legs shaking, drooling over his cock as he bullies his way deeper, harder, rougher.

"oh, look at you," he purrs, his free hand sliding down to slap your cunt, sharp and wet and obscene. you jolt, moaning high and desperate, and his grip on your throat tightens.

"you’re fucking soaked," he chuckles, dragging his fingers through the mess he’s made of you, bringing them up to his lips, tasting you like it’s nothing, like it’s casual, like it doesn’t make your head spin.

"such a desperate little whore," he breathes, teasing the tip of his cock over your slit before pushing back in, slow and deep, too deep, stretching you wide around him.

you can’t think, can’t breathe, all you can do is take it, take him, take the way he ruins you over and over again.

"bet you’d let me fuck you in the great hall, wouldn’t you?" his smirk drips arrogance, teeth grazing your ear. "right on the dining table. let everyone see who you belong to. let them watch while i split you open on my cock."

he pulls out just to slam back in, knocking the air from your lungs. you sob his name, clutching at the desk, but he only laughs, cruel and beautiful, fucking you through it.

"say it," he orders, voice dark, dangerous. "say you’d let me use you however i want. say you’d let me fill you up in front of everyone, let them see my cum dripping out of you."

your moan breaks, body clenching around him, and he groans, low and wrecked.

"fuck—" he snarls, hips snapping against yours, pace brutal. "filthy little thing. you love it, don’t you? being fucked like a whore. being used."

his hand snakes down, fingers finding your clit, rubbing messy circles, dragging you closer and closer and closer—

"come for me," he growls. "make a mess on my cock. prove you’re mine."

your body obeys before your brain catches up, pleasure ripping through you, white-hot, blinding, your cunt fluttering around him, sucking him deeper.

his hips stutter, a low, guttural moan tearing from his throat as he buries himself to the hilt, filling you, claiming you, making sure you’ll be dripping with him for hours.

he stays there for a moment, breathing heavy, forehead pressed against your shoulder, before he’s moving again, already hard, already ready to ruin you all over again.

"oh, you thought i was done with you?"

his fingers tighten in your hair, jerking your head back, his smirk sharp, wicked.

"think again."

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated.

[belovedenzo]

hearts/wires // mattheo riddle

summary; the riddle brothers had agreed to share you until tom gets too jealous and makes you choose. while you may have chosen him- your desire for his brother still burns beneath you. mattheo burns for you just as much and wants to make sure you know who you truly belong to.

warnings; language, cheating, poly themes (?), angst if you squint. SMUT 18+

words; 1.9k

notes; aaa I hope you guys like this one, i'm a bit nervous about it. @shyamanuensis ty so much for this idea, I hope I did it at least a little bit of justice. this is for my mattheo lovers.

Sibling rivalry has existed since the beginning of any time line- including this one. It had all started when you realized both Riddle brothers had a crush on you. How could you choose, really? How could you pick just one when they both want you just as bad as the other? The Riddle brother’s- two of the most handsomely feared in your year, maybe even out of the whole school. 

 Sharing seemed to work for a while. After it was decided that you just couldn’t choose they agreed that sharing is caring- it was no big deal. You were also quite excited with this idea, both Riddle brother’s completely smitten and devoted to only you? That sounded like a seraphic dream before you realized how emotional the two can truly be.The nature of both relationships began to heavily differ as time went on- causing a rift in the balance of said emotions. 

 All of your mate’s said there was no way this would happen, but it did, Tom fell in love with you. First it was a glimmer of jealously in his eyes as he watched Mattheo run his hand down your back from the other side of the common room. Then it began to escalate- leading to Tom dragging you out of rooms and falling apart in front of you.

 “Really, I can’t stand watching him touch you like that. He doesn’t need you the way I need you.”

The line was drawn once a punch was thrown- leaving Mattheo with a busted lip and a bruised ego. You had never seen the red hot fire you saw in Tom’s eyes that night anywhere else before. Part of you felt fear and the other part of you actually felt loved. 

 “I’m tired of sharing! You have to choose y/n. Me or Mattheo?” 

  This decision was harrowing… but in the end you chose Tom. Not because you didn’t like Mattheo, but because you did. Mattheo has never been the sort for emotional connection and ‘love’, everybody knows that- including you. As Tom fell for you, you fell for his even more cold hearted brother. The farther you got from Mattheo, the easier it would be to get over him. As far into his brother’s arms as you could go. 

 At first this really did seem like the best choice and Mattheo actually took it pretty well, or so you thought he did. In your mind all you were to him was a good fuck but over time you really did become more than that. Out of any girl he’s toyed with, you were his favorite and he didn’t plan to actually stop playing with you. 

 He left you alone to be ‘content’ with Tom- or at least for a while. Deep down the brunette knew that he could please you better than his uptight sibling. Before he knew it, you would be crawling back behind closed doors just for him. It was just a matter of time before you’d give in. 

 ‘Giving in’ took you longer than he truly desired. His poor sweet angel tried to be loyal to his poor naive brother- he oddly liked that. Mattheo lost count of how many disposable girls he used to get your attention but it would be worth it. None of them mattered- simple, miniscule pawns to make his queen jealous as she sat in the throne of a phony king. He was the true king- the ruler of this entire relationship and you would soon figure that out.

 Once you did figure that out, you were putty in his hands. The idea of the one you truly wanted in the arms of these girls began to bother you more than the idea of cheating on Tom. He had successfully broken you to do rapacious acts behind the back of his competition. 

 Tom was sweet with you, it was hard to deny. But what Tom couldn’t do was satisfy the animalistic desire you hid inside. The animalistic desire to get fucked so hard you meet god. A good boyfriend, a scholar, an intellect- Thomas Riddle is a lot of things. The one thing he is not is a better lover than Mattheo Riddle. 

 It wasn’t all that hard in the end to get you here, under him in his dorm while Tom is gone- studying in the library. All it took was a few reminders of how good he made you feel. Whispers and subtle touches through the day- really any time Tom was none the wiser.

 “You missed me huh, baby?” 

  You whimper against Mattheo’s lips as he asks the question against you. His two fingers dug deep into your core at the knuckle, pumping you at a painfully slow pace. He had been at this a while, hovering over you and teasing every crevice of your heat. 

 The weak sound you made wasn’t an answer, his hand movements coming to a halt. “Use your words, don’t be shy.” His tone was laced in sickly saccharine venom, causing a lump to get caught in your throat. He had complete control of you from this position, making you feel feeble and pathetic to his touch. 

 A sound of disappointment ripped through you before your eyes met his. He watched you struggle against him for more friction with a smirk on his face. “I missed you.” Your voice came out weak and strained, desperately wanting him to resume his movements. 

  This response satisfied him for now as he began to give it to you just like you wanted, this time faster and deeper. “Oh yeah? I knew you would. My sweet brother just can’t make you feel this good, can he?” 

  This time you learned your lesson and made sure to give him and actual answer in fear of him stopping again. “No… not like you Matty. No body feels as good as you.” You mewl, hands gripping the fabric of his jacket like a plea- a promise even. 

  He chuckles, leaning in to give you a small kiss on the lips- the last shed of mercy he has for you. “Good girl.” He knew all the right spots and angles to get you to your high fast with just his fingers alone. His soft praise took the edge off and made your mind float in fulfillment. 

 He watched from above as you fell apart- clenching around his digits and holding onto his shoulders for dear life. You chanted his name like a mantra- and just from his fingers alone, what an addicted little slut you were for him. He didn’t give you long to recover before he was flipping you over onto your stomach. “I’m gonna give you what you want but we have to be fast- unless you want your boyfriend to watch.” 

  He drops his pants and lines himself up at your entrance like second nature, proving further that he knew your body better than anyone else does. Within the first few slams of his hips against yours- your a drooling mess against his pillow. Sounds that you never knew existed in your lungs escaped out of your mouth into the silk fabric. 

 “You take me so good- this pussy is mine.” He groans beneath his breathe as he uses all his force to ram into you. If it wasn’t for the firm grip he had on your hips you may have went flying across the bed from the vehemence of his fucking. Just like always- he fucked you like an animal, like a depraved sex demon. 

 One of his hands snake to your clit, rubbing it much more gently than the rate he’s thrusting at. This brings you closer and closer and the edge again, a knot forming in the bottom of your belly. 

 His movements become erratic and ridged- his breathe getting faster, meaning he’s close as well. His hands line back up to grab your hips, pulling you impossibly close to achieve a new deeper angle. Mattheo has always loved seeing just how deep inside of you he can go before he’s slamming into your cervix. 

  You both fall apart, his body waning over you to bring your figure close to him. For just a short moment it felt slightly deeper than transactional as he came deep inside of you. But just a moment later he pulls his body from yours like it was nothing to him- even if it secretly was. His fingers drag against your sides- soothing your second climax as you begin to come down. “Now you go in that bathroom and make yourself presentable for Tom.” His hand quickly comes back to smack your ass, your body jutting forward in surprise at the sudden contact. 

  Your hands let go of his sheets and at the speed of light you were hopping off Mattheo’s bed and rushing to the bathroom to get ready. You spent time in the mirror- checking for markings of bruises of any kind. Using Tom’s hair brush you quickly fix your hair before tossing it next to the sink. Your fingers dabbed around your face, fixing the light make up you had worn over to the Riddle brother’s dorm. 

 That’s when you heard it- a framilar voice, “Mattheo… where is y/n.” 

 “I don’t know she’s your girlfriend isn’t she?” His voice was coated in bourbon flavored honey- sardonic sweetness, scornful. 

 Within a second you were exiting the bathroom, trying to come off as nonchalant. A faux smile sat on your lips as your eyes met Tom’s. Your sweet boy didn’t seem to think twice of any of this.

 “You could have just told me she was in the bathroom.” His eyes rolled to the back of his head, clearly already tired of Mattheo’s presence. All this did was cause a silent smirk to appear across Mattheo’s face- sly and untelling. 

 He stood up as you made your way over to Tom and took his arm into yours.  “I wouldn’t wanna interrupt the couple’s alone time.” He knew what he was doing as he watched you snuggle into his brothers side innocently. 

 Tom’s arm pulled out of your grasp and threw it’s way around you watchfully. There was an odd moment of silence before Mattheo snuck out the door of the dorm- but not before glancing in your direction. 

 The room fell even more silent, leaving you alone with the one that’s supposed to be yours. Though he is yours- but you aren’t quite his. As your eyes meet, you feel the back of your mind wander to the boy that just previously left after doing unspeakable things to you. “I love you.” He said, an affirmation.

 You listened to him talk about his day and all of the things vexing him just to make him feel untroubled. However, Mattheo had left a slit in the sky when he left. You were his- till the very end. Tom just doesn’t have to know that. 

love, spell

[girllblogging777]

𝐹𝑅𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐹𝐿𝐼𝑅𝑇𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁

↳ mattheo riddle x fem!reader (best friends, flirting)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 1.4k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : exploring a haunted house isn’t very pleasant… except when your flirty best friend mattheo is with you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

you never should’ve let the boys convince you to sneak out after curfew.

the slytherin common room had been buzzing with energy earlier, filled with laughter and stories about the supposedly haunted house at the border of the forbidden forest. you’d been reading your book, half listening to what your friends were saying as they argued about whether or not they believed in these rumours, or if it was just another one of the castle’s unsolved mysteries.

“it’s not even that far,” theo had said casually, grinning. “we’ll be back before anyone notices.” and of course, you didn’t wanna be the only one to back out. not when you were the only girl in the group, always trying to prove yourself to them. not when you wanted to keep that confident and fierce image you had. and especially not when mattheo riddle was watching you with that usual smirk of his, his dark eyes practically daring you to say no.

✩✩✩✩

so here you were tonight, standing outside some old crumbling building that once had been called a house. the full moon hung high in the sky, casting eerie shadows around you and the boys. the air was colder here too, sending shivers down your back and under the knitted sweater you were wearing. but, of course, you weren’t gonna let anyone know that.

enzo and blaise were already thrilled when they pushed open the door, making plans and chatting excitedly about the little nighttime adventure you were having. draco and theo strode confidently behind them, following them inside and leaving you standing next to mattheo, who was staring at you with crossed arms, looking calmer than you’d even seen him.

“scared yet ?” he asked, his voice low and teasing. you rolled your eyes and scoffed, pretending you didn’t notice the way your heart rate sped up - from the alluring boy or the frightening house next to you, that you didn’t know. “please. this place is barely standing. the only thing i’m worried about is the roof caving in.”

he chuckled at your answer and leaned closer “don’t worry. if it does, i’ll protect you.”

your stomach flipped, and this time you knew it had nothing to do with whatever ghosts were inside that house. the brunette boy was the only human being who had such an effect on you, and you hated it. “ghosts be damned,” you muttered, shaking your head as you followed the others inside. “i don’t need your protection.”

“that we’ll see, love” mattheo said behind you, barely above a whisper.

inside, the house was somehow creepier than you’d imagined. there was dust everywhere, and when the floor creaked beneath your steps, you understood why all these rumours had been invented in the first place. despite the darkness, you could see the faded paintings on the wall, following you as you walked down the narrow hallway. at some point you could’ve sworn one of the figures on the portraits moved, but when you turned to look at it, nothing.

a couple of feet away, blaise was laughing at something draco had said, but you were too busy scanning the dark corners of the house to listen to their conversation. theo was already taking about splitting up, which of course, only managed to make the anxiety tighten in your chest.

“everyone, make groups !” the boys declared, clearly excited and proud of their idea. “makes it more fun”

before you could protest, mattheo was at your side again. you’d been hyper aware of his presence behind you for the past couple of minutes, and now there he was, grinning down at you as your shoulders brushed. “well, looks like we’re partners, then.” you shot him a look. “convenient.”

“hey, you’ll thank me later,” he said with a wink, and it took everything in you not to make another sarcastic remark. still, you couldn’t help but feel a little relieved now, knowing you wouldn’t walk through this scary place alone.

the two of you silently ventured down another hallway, away from where the others were heading. the floorboards creaked with every step you took, the shadows of your tall figures stretching out against the wall as you moved deeper into the house. it was unnervingly quiet, but the sound of mattheo’s steady breaths and confident footsteps reassured you a little.

the brown eyed boy glanced at you, his pupils gleaming with amusement. “you’re quiet, getting nervous ?” you muttered a barely audible “i’m fine” though you couldn’t ignore the quickening of your pulse. you hated haunted places, or even darkness in general, but you’d rather get crucio-ed than admit that to him.

he moved closer, his warm breath hitting your neck, and you found yourself unconsciously leaning towards him when he spoke, “you can hold my hand if you get scared.” you glared at him, grateful the obscurity of the scene hid the blush on your cheek, “in your dreams.”

he laughed softly but he didn’t push it, still, his presence was oddly comforting. it made you feel a little less like something was about to jump out from the shadows, and a little more like you wanted him even closer.

somehow, the air in the house seemed to grow colder the further you walked. every once in a while, you’d hear something : a creak, a whisper, maybe just the wind, but it sets your nerves on edge.

suddenly, a loud bang echoed from one of the rooms down the hall and you jumped, grabbing mattheo’s arm without even thinking. your heart raced, and you cursed under your breath when you realised what had just happened.

“told you” he said, a grin slowly spreading across his face as he looked down at where your hand gripped his hand. you scowled, quickly letting go. “that was just instinct.” still smiling, he nodded “sure, sure…” but then his gaze softened, and his voice dropped. “don’t worry, i’ve got you.”

something in his tone made your breath catch, and for a second, you forgot where you were. the haunted house, the cold, the creepy portraits, all of it faded as you stared up at him, trying to figure out if he was being serious or if this was more of his usual flirting.

before you could say anything, another loud sound echoed from upstairs. this time, it wasn’t just a bang. it was footsteps. slow, deliberate footsteps moving across the ceiling. you froze, every muscle in your body tensing as you looked up. riddle stepped in front of you, his usual playful expression gone and replaced by something more serious.

“stay close,” he whispered and you nodded as you followed him up the creaky stairs , ignoring the tightening in your throat. each step felt heavier than the previous one and the closer you got to the top floor, the louder the sound became. you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone, or something, was watching you.

mattheo’s hand brushed against yours again, and this time you didn’t pull away. you were too focused on the shadows that seemed to move on their own, on the way the cold seemed to press in on you from all sides.

“do you trust me ?” he asked quietly. you looked up at him, surprised by the seriousness in his voice. he’d always been flirty and playful when it came to you, blurring the lines between friendship and more. however, tonight, things felt different. despite everything, you nodded “yeah…”

he squeezed your hand lightly, his hand never leaving yours. “good, because i’m not letting anything happen to you.”

“oi !” theo’s voice echoed through the hall, startling the both of you and shattering the blissful bubble you were in. you quickly dropped mattheo’s hand and stepped back, but it was too late.

theo was grinning, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, looking far too amused for someone in a haunted house, and for your liking. “well, well, well… look at you two getting all cozy up here.” your face heated up immediately, but mattheo just smirked, clearly unfazed. “jealous ?” theo proceeded to snort, “of you ? never.”

he glanced between the two of you, and the teasing look in his eyes made you wanna disappear. “we’re heading back, this place is more boring than we thought it would be. meet us downstairs and don’t get lost… or, you know, distracted.”

with that, he turned around and disappeared back down the dusty stairs, leaving you and mattheo standing there in awkward silence. you could feel your chest thumping as you tried to figure out what to say, looking at the old wallpaper that was falling apart instead of meeting his gaze.

“see ?” he whispered, leaning down just enough for you to hear. “told you i’d protect you. even from theo’s terrible sense of humour.” you groaned and pushed him slightly, the banter between you settling back down, “shut up !”

you may have hated haunted houses, but the truth was, you kind of liked the way his hand felt in yours.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : hey ! this is me making my weekly appearance on this app, cause i just HAD to write about this request

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