#voldemort x harry potter

[bpdmanor]

mutuals were talking about og movie concept of voldy moldy so heres a doodle

[consumedshadow-mysticmc]

Behold the 2012 cringe

“Hey, I just met you and this is crazy; but I’m your horcrux, so shag me maybe.”

[faithsoneluv]

i want sb to look at me the way tom looks at harry.

(/j i know the context yada yada BUT HHHHWNW CHRISTIAN'S SMILE??)

[twhos-fests]

Gothic Fantasy Fest 2024: Day 5 Reveals

Today's GFF highlights are focused on the submissions we received that were inspired by or based on gothic poetry. Poems such as “I felt a funeral, in my brain” by Emily Dickinson and “My Heart is a Cathedral” by Segovia Amil. Mind the tags & Happy Reading! 🦇

Anabiosis @lee-bella

"He could hear a sound in his head, a strange knocking as though someone were chiseling a coffin in his brain...."

Warnings: Dead Dove | Voldy Wins AU | Obsession | Grief/Mourning |

Rating: Explicit

Character(s)/Ship(s): Harrymort

Word Count: 3,736 words

Summary: In their final moment together, they had eyes only for each other as was ordained—it was love at the final sight.

I felt a funeral by @alyceofthetogas

"A horrible feeling was clawing at Blaise's chest..."

Warnings: Family Secrets | Madness | Grief/Mourning |

Rating: Teen

Character(s)/Ship(s): Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini

Word Count: 1,609 words

Summary: Blaise's mother requests he visit.

Like Falling by @i-dream-of-libraries

"Thick clouds of steam obscured all around him; he was afloat in an ocean of white..."

Warnings: Hannibal Vibes | Obsessive Behavior | Manipulation |

Rating: Explicit

Character(s)/Ship(s): Tomarry

Word Count: 3,176 words

Summary: Auror Harry Potter had a much nicer ring to it before he was sitting in an interrogation room across from his childhood friend, Tom Riddle. Their past haunts him with every look, every memory of touch, and the reality of the glass that now separates them in this world. Maybe not in others.

Complete fest information under the cut!

Fest Disclaimer

Due to the darker subject material of the prompts, please mind every tag of the submissions you choose to read and engage with from our fest. Some fanworks include triggering and taboo content. So, take care of yourself, honor your limits, and enter at your own risk.

Fest Information

Gothic Fantasy Fest is a Harry Potter fanworks fest dedicated to and centered around our love for the gothic horror genre!

The inspiration to host this fest came out of our desire to see more fanworks in the fandom where the darkness within us all is celebrated, embraced, and reveled in.

This fest is hosted by The Writing Heirs of Slytherin Discord Server.

Important Links

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Discord Server

[secretshipgirl]

No, because I don't think people realize how lucky we are that Voldy doesn't have emotions.

I mean, imagine what would have happened if Moldemort had empathy? He still would have killed Lilly and James bc they disobeyed him, but. Harry. He did nothing wrong.

If he had taken him in, changed his last name to Riddle, it would been over. Like, he would have all the best things, would know spells and parseltoung by 9, and would probably act like a quiet version of Draco, just waaaaaaaaay more dangerous and intimidating. He'd never know about the prophecy, he wouldn't trust Dumb as a door, he'd be sadistic and cruel, and the Wizarding world would have been doomed. Their savior was already practicing unforgivable curses at 10, how would he save them from his own father? The person that raised and cared for him his entire life? Answer, he wouldn't. He'd rule over muggles and mudbloods along side him, happy as can be.

And if you want to make it REALLY fucked, Voldy may just decide to marry him. Make him his officially. Make sure Harry didn't know how wrong it was. Groom him. And watch as the whole Wizarding world lost hope completely.

I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT THIS, OKAY!?

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Idea #55: Harry Potter, but make it Roaring Twenties

In what is possibly my most terrible idea yet, I've been contemplating all those HP fics which insist that if only Tom Riddle had been raised correctly, he'd never have become Voldemort - or would have at least gone about his goal in a more sane fashion. I tend to agree with this idea, as the idea that anyone is born evil seems incredibly naive.

Yet if I was a time traveler desperate to save my society, I don't know if I could take that same position - yes, I sincerely believe that no one is born evil, but am I willing to risk the future on the chance I'm wrong? Or: what if a female!Harry Potter traveled back to the 1920s to prevent Tom Riddle's birth?

aka the Mother Dearest fic

Just imagine it:

Female!Master of Death!Harry Potter has witnessed the end of British Wizarding society. Voldemort is not solely at fault for it - magic has been declining for generations, as Dark and Light become unbalanced, but he definitely speeds the process along. Hyacinth (as we shall call her moving forward) decides to travel back in time to 1925 with the intent to prevent Voldemort's birth, which should hopefully provide Wizarding Britain time to restore the balance.

Hyacinth takes on the identity of 16-year-old Hyacinth Peverell, the only survivor of a fire at the Peverell Estate - and thus heiress to a grand fortune, but for the moment in the care of her paternal grandmother's brother, a retired professor living in Greater Hangleton.

The Riddles, being rampant social climbers, encourage Tom Riddle Sr to get close to her - which she somewhat bemusedly allows on the basis that keeping this Riddle close will prevent Merope from getting the chance to drug him with love potion.

(Not, of course, that Merope is around anymore. A quick spell or two saw Marvolo and Morfin kill each other off in a "drunken" altercation and the underage Merope taken away by the Ministry. But Hyacinth is covering all her bases.)

Meanwhile, Tom Riddle does his best to seduce Hyacinth Peverell, which results in the pair being wed in early 1926 and a pregnancy announced not long after.

On December 31, 1926 Hyacinth gives birth to their son - Thomas Tristian Riddle. Though it takes Hyacinth a few months to realize it, her son bears the soul of Voldemort from her original timeline, with his memories largely locked away until he's old enough to process them, circa 7-11 years old.

This is originally where I thought of ending a short one-shot... but then I thought, why not lean into the unhealthy, creepy element that would surely arise between a Voldemort obsessed with a witch who was once his prophesied downfall and who is now his loving mother? I'm not just talking codependent here but full-on Electra Complex, with a heavy layer of Child Supplants Parent directed toward Tom Sr for abandoning Merope in the original timeline.

Hyacinth becomes pregnant with a daughter in 1931? She's suddenly widowed when Tom Sr dies in a car crash with his mother. Tom Sr's father makes a drunken pass at Hyacinth while morning his wife and son? He's found to have committed suicide a few days later, leaving Tom Jr heir to his estates. Hyacinth gives birth to a daughter, Daphne? Well, Tom Jr restrains himself to keeping most of his mother's attention on him, but the threat is always there.

For added terrible fic factor, Hyacinth should be aware of what her son is doing and subtly encouraging it, having been almost as obsessed with Voldemort in the original timeline as he was with her and not realizing how much she'd miss her beloved enemy after he was gone. Perhaps she should have even ensured she'd get pregnant with Tom Jr at the precise time he would have been conceived originally, having decided that she couldn't bear not to have him in the world despite that being her whole raison d'etre for coming to the past. Hell, perhaps her whole marriage to Tom Sr should be a way of trying to fill the void Voldemort left in her life to begin with.

That's all I really have - just the idea that what could have been a very creepy one shot could easily evolve into an incredibly creepy full-length fic depending how hard one wants to develop and explore the layers of obsession and unhealthy mother-child relationship. Depending on how twisted you make Tom Jr as a child with a whole soul and Hyacinth after how many centuries of being the undying Master of Death in a dying magical world... well, there's a lot of room to play.

Bonuses include: 1) Tom Sr's father being the result of an affair between his mother and Marvolo Gaunt's father. He's unaware of the relationship, but it's enough for that thread of magical heritage to pass down Tom Jr in his new body regardless; 2) While we're at it, let's make Tom Sr's mother the third-generation descendant of a cast-out Black squib; 3) Hyacinth pretending to be your average 1920s upper-class housewife by day while secretly moving through magical circles by night, subtly pushing a pro-Grey, pro-greater secrecy agenda at the great and powerful of the magical world; 4) The suggestion that Voldemort's madness came as much from his muggle father's family as his inbred mother's: Tom Sr's father should express psychopathic tendencies, Tom Sr himself should be something of a sociopath, and Tom Sr's mother should be as much a Black as it's possible to be without magic; and 5) As much I can't believe I wrote this as the author can humanly manage.

And that's all I have. As always, feel free to adopt, just link back if you ever do anything with this genuinely terrible fic idea.

More Terrible Fic Ideas

[dresyreads]

Chapters: 14/14 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle Characters: Harry Potter, Tom Riddle, Other Character Tags to Be Added, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Teddy Lupin Additional Tags: Serial Killer Tom Riddle, Crime Scene Investigator Harry Potter, Murder, Gore, Gift Giving, Tom Riddle is His Own Warning, Tom Riddle is besotted, harry potter needs a break, a long, long break, Writing this when I'm bored, be gentle I'm fragile and this is just for fun, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, I apologize in advance, someone gets set on fire so uh, Tom practically cock-blocks himself, lots of inaccuracies probably, Something that could be considered non-con happens between Bellatrix and Tom, Hedwig is a long haired dalmatian ;w; Summary:

Tom Riddle is a serial killer, and Harry Potter is the object of his affections. He kills people as gifts for Harry, and leaves a card for him with each "gift".

Harry Potter is a crime scene investigator, and he most definitely does not appreciate the gifts. --- DO NOT TRANSLATE WITHOUT PERMISSION

[ninthofthermidor]

after like 3 years im back in my harry potter phase sooo

does anyone have any tomarry fics with a dynamic like the one in this ? it’s such an amazing oneshot and i just love the classic ‘harry travels back in time/harry and tom attend hogwarts together and tom is just enamoured every time harry acts up’ trope

[reggieblk]

Chapter 8. Horcruxes (of 16) of equals in life (partners in death) is out ! 

Fic summary :  

When Sirius died Harry's whole world crumbled.

Amidst grief and anger, one may find that hope and love can be found in the most unexpected places.

For Harry, that came in the form of Voldemort offering him a home.

-

A story of grief, healing, learning and magic. But most importantly, this is a love story.

I hope you all like it! I know this was a long awaited topic in this fic! :) xx

[megwritesriddles]

I Despise You ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Fem!Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 1 - Angry Sex. Reader is the Head Girl and Riddle is the Head Boy, Riddle likes to push Reader's boundaries until it all boils over. Minimal plot but a smidge anyway.

Tags: Angry sex, P in V, Fingering (fem receiving), Unprotected sex, Magic as birth control, Enemies with benefits, Arguing (which is badly written oops), Attempt at angst, Tiny bit of sexism from Riddle, Reader is wearing a dress (I imagined one of those Sabrina Carpenter babydoll dresses lol), Head boy Riddle, Head girl Reader, Historical inaccuracy.

Word count: 3.4k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: First installment of Kinktober and first post on tumblr!! woo!! please show me some love if you like it!! I am terrible at writing arguments because I hate confrontation irl oops!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

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Being appointed as Head Girl was supposed to be the best thing to ever happen to you. You’d been working toward it since at least the third year and it was all you ever seemed to hope for. It was meant to be an achievement that you and your friends would all celebrate, perhaps head down to the Three Broomsticks and spoil you with free drinks for the night in honour of your achievement. But, life wasn’t so kind.

When your position as Head Girl was announced all you had received from your friends were pitying looks, all due to the pesky little detail of who had been announced as Head Boy to serve alongside you. Tom Riddle. Tom. Fucking. Riddle. Of course, Professor Dippett had had to announce his name first, meaning you hadn’t even gotten a second of enjoyment from your appointment. He had stood up smugly at the Slytherin table, basking in the cheers from his house, flashing a charming smile to the room as he made his way to the front of the hall. For the first time in your life, at that moment, you had prayed that Head Girl would not be you. It was. Your name was called, your house applauded and your legs carried you over to Riddle’s side. He grinned down at you, that little glint of mockery in his eye that you could only see from this close. You wanted to punch him, that would surely lose you the Head Girl position and solve this problem, but you had your future to think of. You had repeated that to yourself all that night as you and Riddle had been whisked off to the staff room to be briefed on your positions and given your badges. Riddle was the picture of charm, laughing with the various professors that came to speak with you, you just sat there, smiling falsely, looking a little like you’d just been hit over the head with a plank. You felt like it too. Your lifelong dream had just been turned into something poisonous. Really, you thought to yourself as Slughorn guided you through the corridors to the Head’s quarters, you should have seen this coming. They weren’t supposed to appoint two students from the same house, so logically, if you were picked for Head Girl, it was only ever going to be Riddle at your side. You wondered why you hadn’t considered this before, it was so obvious with hindsight. You scowled at the back of his and Slughorn’s heads as you ascended some stairs, them chatting together jovially, making your blood boil.

Slughorn shows you the small common room, enough seating for about four people, a fireplace, and a little kitchenette with some stools, decorated with opulence. It would all have been very nice if it hadn’t been for Riddle standing there commenting on the lovely brass crests. The separate rooms were your biggest comfort, both off of little halls from the common room in different directions. You could hide in there from him, you told yourself over and over. You didn’t have the headspace to be impressed by the beautiful ensuites with golden-tapped baths, just wanting Slughorn to leave so you would no longer have to listen to Riddle’s disgustingly smooth voice. Eventually, Slughorn did leave the two of you to go to bed. As he shut the common room door, you could see Riddle’s mouth opening from the corner of your eye. You darted to your room before he could get the words out, slamming the door, relieved to find all your things already there. You collapsed onto the bed and sighed. The nightmare was only beginning.

The hands on the clock point to 3:30 am. It’s a Monday morning, you have a meeting with Dumbledore in just a few hours, but sleep is impossible. He has friends over again. The deep bass of their voices reverberates through the walls of the common room. They’re chatting and laughing like always, most likely drinking too, you’ve spotted them with whiskey a few times. You seethe with anger in your bed, just last week you had kindly approached him, and not for the first time, about this issue. You had emphatically asked him to be considerate of you and your time. He had placated you like always.

“Yes darling, I didn’t realise we were being so bothersome, won’t happen again,” he had soothed, but of course, it was happening again right now. You kept somehow getting caught in his charms, the very ones you had been immune to for so long. It had to be the sleep deprivation he was causing, that was what was making you melt a little whenever he called you darling or smiled just so, in the way that used to make you feel sick. In the dark of your room, you lie on your side and curse inwardly. Reporting him had crossed your mind many times, but you knew he would just charm his way out of it, like he did with everything. Your ears rumble with another deep laugh from the group of men in the other room and you’ve had enough. Throwing off your duvet and stomping to your bedroom door, you fling it open and head into the common room. He sits reclined leisurely in an armchair by the fireplace, his sleeves rolled up and tie loose. His ankles are crossed, resting on the coffee table in front of him, he chuckles at something, you couldn’t care less what, the firelight dancing over his face. He hasn’t noticed you, but across from him on the opposite armchair, his friend, Avery, straightens up and grins at you. His eyes drift over you, you realise instantly that you stomped out here in only your nightgown and socks and flush lightly, but stand your ground.

“Riddle!” you bark, surprising even yourself with the viciousness of your tone. This brings his attention to you effectively. His other two friends turn to look at you over the back of the sofa, Riddle doesn’t even straighten up when he looks up at you, smirking in a self-satisfied way that makes your insides twist oddly.

“Hello darling,” he speaks smoothly. “You look a picture tonight,” he lets his eyes drift up and down your figure without shame. You go red with anger and embarrassment.

“Doesn't she just?” One of his friends, Rosier, comments with a mocking chuckle. This sets you off.

“Out!” You screech. All the boys look taken aback by the intensity of your outburst. “Out, out, out!”

“Fine,” Riddle hisses in an infuriatingly calm tone. “You lot should go, you heard the Head Girl,” you hear the mocking tone in his voice, suggesting he thinks you’re hysterical. You stand there with your fists clenched, staring the men down as they get up and head for the door, feeling ridiculous but not wanting to show any weakness. Once they all leave and shut the door behind them, the two of you fall into silence for a moment. He’s watching you, but not in the leering way from earlier, he almost looks impressed with you. You avert your eyes from the closed door onto his face, he’s leaning forward now, with his elbows on his knees. Just when you’re considering simply turning to leave, he speaks up. “Happy now, darling? You’re really no fun, we were only talking,” his eyes fix on yours, burning deeply. You scoff indignantly.

“It’s nearly 4 am Riddle, you know I have a meeting in the morning, I have brought this up to you countless times and–”

“Yes, but you don’t seem to understand that I simply don’t care to keep you happy, darling,” he grins. You let out a frustrated yelp.

“You are unbelievable! How were you ever chosen for Head Boy when you're this insidious? You don’t deserve it!” You snap. This stirs something in him. His eyes darken and he stands up from the armchair.

“And you do, do you darling?” he asks slowly, stalking toward you. “You’re the picture of perfection, aren’t you just?” You’re not sure what to say to this, any answer seems wrong like it’ll give him reason to dig into you further. Your mouth opens and shuts for a moment before you settle on a shrug. Your hands flex in the fists they’re tightened into as a smirk spreads over his face. “You don’t seem so high and mighty from here,” he chuckles, stopping in front of you. He has several inches on you and you’re forced to look up at him. “You look lovely in this little nightie,” he comments with a grin, reaching out to trace the lace at the strap with the tip of his finger. You jolt away instantly, glaring up at him.

“Don’t you dare touch me! And don’t you dare comment on my looks!” You hissed, smacking his hand away. His eyes darken even more at this.

“And don’t you dare smack me,” he growls. “I was merely paying you a compliment,”

“Like hell you were!” You scoff. “You’re trying to make me feel small,” he rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

“If the shoe fits,” he grins. You scowl, shoving at him without thinking about it. He stumbles back slightly, looking momentarily bewildered. When he realises what you just did he surges for you. He grabs you by the shoulders and pushes you into the wall. You let out a small oof sound as you collide with the wall, surprised it didn’t hurt more than it did. For a moment, you wonder if he had avoided hurting you until you look up and see the fire in his eyes, then you wonder if he wishes he had just killed you. “I would have rather had literally anyone as Head Girl than you, you are the bane of my existence,” he snarls, gripping your shoulders hard.

“I’m the bane of your existence? I don’t have friends over until the small hours of the morning! Imagine how I feel!” You spit back. You can tell he’s barely listening to you.

“You are insufferable! You’re the only person who doesn’t fawn over the sight of me and it’s you that I get stuck with for the whole year!” he scoffs. “I will not let you control my lifestyle!” he adds angrily. “I will not bend my life to make you happy! I am not subservient to anyone and I never will be!” you roll your eyes exaggeratedly.

“You are ridiculous,”

“I despise you,” he hisses venomously. “You’re always everywhere I am, you’re always following me around, tailing me in every subject, you had to go for this position when I’ve had my sights locked on it since first year!” He pushes you back into the wall again. “Are you happy now darling? You got Head Girl and now we’re both miserable! You must be thrilled!”

“You think I’m following you around?” you sneer. “How full of yourself are you that you think me going for Head Girl was about you? You seem to think you’re the centre of everything, but in my life Riddle, you are just an inconvenience, you are nothing,” you seethed. Something flashes in Riddle’s eyes, his jaw working.

“I am nothing?” he demands. “I am nothing?” he’s shaking now and you’re sure he’s about to hex you or punch you, his eyes flick between yours, his whole body coiled tight and ready to pounce. Instead, his lips are suddenly on yours, thrusting your head back against the wall. You yelp in surprise, your eyes wide, the back of your head hurting from being pressed into the hard surface. He kisses you without a single hint of affection, kissing you like it’s a punishment, a way of muzzling you, but Merlin, somehow it feels good. He’s grabbing at you, taking fistfuls of your nightgown in his hands. You find that you’re kissing him back, that you have been practically since his lips met yours and that you’re doing so eagerly. Your head is spinning as his arms wrap around you and he pulls you harshly to him, the hard planes of his lean body pressing against you. Your arms snake around his neck and he lets you yank at his hair. He’s kissing you so hard that you’re practically tipping backwards. Your tongues rub against each other as you kiss frantically. He’s leading you to the sofa, throwing you down and then settling above you. He props himself up, his hands on either side of your head. You both take this moment to catch your breaths, staring intensely at each other as your chests rise and fall rapidly. “Am I still nothing?” he growls, a little breathless. Once again, you don’t know what the right thing to say is. One of his hands moves down and starts to push up the hem of your nightdress, revealing your thighs to his devouring eyes. You grab him and kiss him again instead of talking, just as hard and unforgiving as before.

You feel your nightdress being bunched at your waist and hear the faint sound of a zip being pulled down. You kiss him harder, nipping at his bottom lip harshly and scrunching your eyes shut. He just groans in response, pushing down his slacks haphazardly, his other hand keeping him propped up above you. You’re suddenly awfully overheated, both from lying on the sofa in front of the blazing fireplace and from the realisation of what he’s planning to do to you. Are you really going to do this? Are you really going to let him fuck you on the sofa in the common room? Riddle? The man you’ve hated for years? The man who has been deliberately antagonising you for the past several weeks, and especially tonight? Your hands are resting on his stomach, and you connect the dots in mild horror that you’ve been unbuttoning his shirt without even realising it. You feel completely out of control of yourself, you’ve never acted this way before. You gasp in surprise when you feel his fingers pressing against your core through the fabric of your underwear. His fingers rub roughly, sending jolts of pain and pleasure through you. You whine slightly, feeling him smirk against your lips. You scratch at his chest a little in retaliation. He grunts, you can’t tell if he likes it or not and it bothers you. His fingers hook into your underwear and start to tug down. This is your last chance to back out, to throw him off of you and run away, but you find yourself unable to do anything but writhe and cling to his shoulders. The underwear is discarded on the floor and he is using his free hand to spread your thighs open, you flush deeply as he pulls away from the kiss to look down at you. You can feel how wet you are and you hate that, based on the smug little grin on his face, he knows it too. Your cheeks are burning as he reaches down, using two fingers to spread your folds. He lets out a needy sound by accident and it’s your turn to gloat. He flashes you a glare and plunges a finger into your tight heat in revenge. This makes your back arch and your lips part and he smirks back at you.

“So wet…” he comments, self-satisfied, his finger creating obscene squelches as he pumps it in and out of you slowly. You snarl at him, lashing out in embarrassment. You grab at the tent in his boxers, feeling him rock-hard under the fabric. He frowns in embarrassment, withdrawing his finger from you which makes you whimper a little. “You’re asking for it now, darling,” he growls. He’s scrambling to rid himself of his boxers. His tip is quickly prodding at your entrance and you gasp and arch slightly. He glides against you for a moment, his tip rubbing deliciously at your clit, seeming like he’s waiting for something. Then, he’s plunging into you. You let out a pathetic little cry and he grins. “Does that feel good?” he coos mockingly as he fully seats himself inside you. You both gasp for breath as your tight heat embraces him. It does feel good, torturously so, but his mocking tone irks you.

“I hate you,” you growl up at him as he lowers himself onto his elbows, his face right above yours. He scowls, panting slightly.

“I hate you too, believe me,” his arms wrap around your shoulders, keeping you in place. He buries his face in your neck and starts to nip as his hips begin to rock harshly. His thrusts are hard and punishing, slow, withdrawing almost completely and then slamming forward, just short of painful. You whine and grab at his back, letting your nails dig into him, he doesn’t seem to mind. He speeds up, grunting loudly against your neck. He pulls back to watch as you move along with his thrusts, your eyes scrunched shut and lips parted with desperate whines. He pants, his hot breaths washing over your face. He speeds up even more, growling like a crazed animal. “Look at you, falling apart under me, what would your friends think?” he taunts. Your eyes squeeze tighter shut, a wave of shame passing through you that somehow heightens your pleasure.

“Shut the fuck up,” you whine. You hear him laughing mockingly. You muster your strength and clench your walls around him. His laugh morphs into a choked groan at the sensation, his hips stuttering. He was more affected by this than you expected, his pace now brutal as he fucks into you, clearly desperately chasing release now, rather than focusing on playing mind games on you. His lips meet yours again and you kiss back. It’s clumsy and sloppy, given how fast he’s moving, but it just heightens everything you’re feeling. “You gonna come already?” you mock as you feel him faltering in his thrusts. He groans angrily against your lips.

“I despise you,” he hisses shakily, propping himself back up so he can thrust into you more relentlessly. You return the sentiment, but it’s a little half-hearted now between whines. You cry out when you feel his thumb on your clit, rubbing hard. He seems oddly determined to have you orgasm before he does, perhaps to humiliate you, but it feels so good that you can hardly complain. He grunts loudly, you can tell he’s trying to goad you, but his speech is incoherent between sounds of pleasure and the slapping of skin against skin. You feel it building up and you can’t deny yourself the pleasure, you don’t try to hold back. However, he still falls apart first. His hips stutter then stop entirely and he groans loudly, you feel his seed spilling deep into you, warm ropes painting your inside. His thumb doesn’t let up its rubbing and it allows you to also reach your release. You pulse around his oversensitive cock and he gasps and whines pathetically, but continues rubbing you through it until all the aftershocks are over.

He remains propped above you, catching his breath for a while, his head hung low. You both whine slightly as he withdraws from you slowly, leaving you with a pop. He takes a shaky breath, staring at his essence that trickles out of you. You just stare at the ceiling, unsure what to do now. You feel the sofa dip as he reaches down to the floor, his chest touching yours as he lowers himself gently. He grabs his wand from his trouser pocket and props back up. He mumbles a spell, cleaning you of his essence and eliminating the chance of pregnancy. It pleases you a little that he took care of it, rather than leaving it up to you. He moves, sitting back on his haunches between your legs, lowering the hem of your nightdress to cover you back up. You stare at each other silently for a moment as he tucks himself away.

“This changes nothing between us,” he asserts, narrowing his eyes at you. You want to laugh at that, as clearly everything has just changed in some way, but you know what he means.

“Yeah, it changes nothing,” you repeat with a sigh. He glances over at the fireplace for a moment, before his eyes flick to the clock on the mantelpiece.

“Now chop chop, don’t you have that meeting with Dumbledore?” he grins. Your eyes widen and then you kick at him in frustration, realising what he’s done. He just laughs. “You better figure out a way to cover those hickeys quickly,” he smirks. You whine indignantly, burying your head in your hands.

“I’m going to kill you!”

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xoxoxo

[coryosbaby]

Mascara || T. Riddle

Fandom: ‘Harry Potter’

Pairing: Young! Tom Riddle x fem! Ravenclaw! Reader

｡.｡ ♡ Content warning . Public sex, praise & degradation, cum play, sub! Reader, dom! Tom

Notes: set in modern day Hogwarts. I never thought i’d want to fuck Voldemort but here we are.

Your feet patter softly against the tile floors of Hogwarts, a book clutched tightly in your arms as you make your way towards the school’s library. It’s a rainy night, incredibly quiet and empty. The other students are at dinner, and you’ve decided to skip out to study for your OWLs. When you open the big wooden doors to the library, the smell of printed ink and old pages invites you further in.

The first thing you notice, when you close the doors behind you and take sight of the room, is that the librarian, Madam Pince, is no where to be found. She must be on her break.

The second thing you notice is the boy sitting in the darkest corner of the room.

You know of the familiar brunette— of course you do. Who wouldn’t? Tom Riddle is a popular slytherin well known for his cunningness, his intelligence, his ability to speak native tongues— and sometimes, his temper. A ravenclaw yourself, you try to steer clear of him. Slytherins usually don’t take politely to anyone outside of their house. Not to mention the fact that you scored the top of your class, with him coming in close second. You suspect that he hates you for that.

He catches your gaze, brown eyes with the resemblance of a serpent. He looks back down at his book, seeming bored.

You let out a breath of air.

You slide your book into the return bin, timidly moving to the shelf about Potions. Snape has been really hassling you lately on your grades, and you really need to turn your B+ into a perfect A. Your fingertips skim over the leathered binds, reading title after title. A voice behind you makes you jump.

“If you’re studying for Snape’s final, I’d recommend ‘Advanced Potion Making’. It will tell you all you need to know.”

His voice is an angelic lilt, though you know that is not in any way what he resembles. The fact that he’s helping you stumps you into utter confusion, and heat creeps up your neck. You nod to him as you begin searching for the book.

To no avail. Your eyes search every bind, every word, but your focus has been diluted because of Tom speaking to you. He sighs, almost annoyed.

He appears beside you, much to your surprise. You nervously bite your lip as he finds the exact book he recommended and pushes it into your hands.

“Chapter nine. I would’ve thought a girl of your ranking in our class would know this already.”

Your brows furrow, embarrassment coursing through you as he sits back down and resumes his tasks. You nervously fumble with the book.

“Thank you.” You reply, because you had been taught proper manners. He scoffs, flicking through the pages of his book. You can’t read the title, though the cover is quite off put ish and dark. Perhaps he had snuck into the restricted section.

“Don’t.”

You frown, though your mind is peaking with curiosity. He seems rude, but he was trying to help you. Maybe there’s something nice under there, after all. Your body is stiff as you sit across from him at the table, silently pleading to God that the boy across from you won’t put a nasty hex on you.

“You don’t have to be rude, you know.”

It slips out of your lips, quiet and unsure. Tom’s eyes narrow at you.

“And as well as that, you don’t have to sit across from me.”

“Perhaps I want to. Perhaps you need a friend.”

“A friend?” He chuckles dryly, his gaze travelling down to your robes. You try to ignore the heat creeping between your legs. “We aren’t going to be friends.”

His insinuation is thick, dangerous. Your heart pounds out of your chest at this unexpected turn of your study hour. You gulp, looking down at the pages.

“Very well then. But since I’ve already sat down, I might as well continue my book here.”

“Or we could continue this conversation in my dorm room.”

He says it smoothly, with no fear or utmost insecurity.

“What?” You blanch, stuttering on your syllables. Tom smirks.

“A smart girl like you, and you can’t even comprehend a single sentence,” he says, his body beginning to move out of his chair. “‘S pathetic, really…”

You breath hitches as his tall form towers over you. Your fingertips grasp the sides of your chair as he leans in close.

“Tom,” you start, warningly. He quirks a brow.

“No?” He questions, and then after a moment, staring into your doe eyes, it dawns on him. His mouth forms into a grin. “Oh, you want it here, don’t you? You want it right here.”

His lips brush just inches over your pouty lips, and you wonder how in the hell you got into this situation and why this slytherin boy is making such a sudden move on you. But knowing Tom, it’s probably out of boredom. Out of the desire for a hook up.

You don’t mind it. Not really, not anymore, because all your protests are ripped away from you when he presses his lips to yours. It’s not tender or sweet, it’s full of sharp teeth and unfiltered lust. His hands rest on your chin, gripping your head so you can’t escape his kiss— can’t escape him.

Your tongue is about to graze his lips when he pulls away. His fingers grasp your shoulder and pull you up to your feet. You stumble, your legs shaky from just a couple of kisses. You gasp when he spins you around and presses your face against one of the nearest bookshelves. His big hands wrap around your wrists and hold them behind your back.

“I don’t want to hear any complaints from you. Do you understand me?” He whispers, his hands reaching down to lift up your robes. “If I do, I’ll leave you here drenched, your clothes gone, with your holes freshly fucked and on display for the entire school to see. Do you understand me?”

You nod instantly. You know that these aren’t empty threats; when Tom says he’s going to do something, he’ll do it.

When he pulls up your robes, taking in the sight of your pretty pink thong, he lets out a sharp breath.

“Prepared, weren’t you?”

You let out a whine, knowing that no, this wasn’t intentional. Tom just caught you on a specific type of day. But looking on it now, maybe the universe was being in your favor when you decided to pick out the flimsy undergarment.

Tom slips the hem of your robes into your hands.

“Hold it.” He commands, and you’re quick to comply.

His hardness presses against you, clothed still but his robes are lifted so he can rut against you in his briefs. It isn’t long before he’s pulling them down past his thighs, his cock sprinting up into the air as he places himself against you once again. You can’t help but drip with need, canting your hips back against him. His cock presses in between the seam of your ass, and you rub against him like a bitch in heat.

And just like a bitch in heat, you purr.

“Tommy..” you let out, and his grip on your hips tighten. “Please?”

He scoffs at the nickname, though his bottom lip is caught roughly between his teeth and he’s trying to contain himself. He wraps his hand around his awaiting length, parts your thighs with the other, and slides his dick up against your throughly aroused pussy.

He’s warm, sticky. You wish you could’ve seen him before this, seen that thing that feels oh so heavy between your legs, but it’ll have to wait. Hopefully, there will be a next time.

When he slides in, it stretches you obscenely. This isn’t your first time, but there’s a burning sensation as he enters you. He’s got the perfect amount of thickness and length to pull a moan deep from your throat.

He doesn’t start slow. His hips smack against yours at a rapid pace, small grunts leaving his silky lips as he uses you like a common whore. Your hands grip your robes and the bookshelf at the same time, trying to keep steady as Tom fills you to the brim. He noses along your jaw and leaves wet, open kisses there. You mewl when he bites down harshly and sucks a mark into your skin.

“Such a tight little cunt you have,” Tom breathes, his fingertips bruising your hips. “Look at you, such a slut for my cock. Does it feel good? Tell me, tell me how it feels.”

Your thighs squeeze him, your mouth gaping open in utter ecstasy. Your words are caught in your throat, but Tom is quick to force them out of you with a spank to your ass. You moan, your forehead pressing against the bookshelf’s wooden edge.

“Yes! Yes, it feels so good…” you slur, entranced by the spice of his cologne and the feeling of his girthy length splitting you open. He grunts, bucking his hips into you with vigor.

“And I bet it’s the best you’ve had, isn’t it? All those other boys can’t do it for you. I’m the only one that fucks you this good.”

It’s true, and when his cockhead hits a spot deep inside you that has you keening, your legs quiver and your brain turns to jelly. Tom’s fingers place themselves around your neck and squeeze so hard that your vision blurs at the edges, and you’re enthralled by the fear that courses through your veins. He’s playing your life in his hands like it’s a shiny new toy.

He fucks you like a madman as you gasp and beg for air. Tears spill out of your eyes, salty and wet and Tom takes notice.

“Crying?” He sneers, pounding you so hard that you’re sure the bookshelf will leave bruises as it presses against you. “You’re pathetic. A pathetic, filthy little girl.”

“Mmmhhh..” you cry out. Your eyes roll back as you utter incoherent sounds. He growls.

“Do you want me to cum inside you?” And then, with a harsh grip on your hair, “I want to hear you say it. Beg me. Beg me to fill you, whore.”

Your eyes shut tight, and your hands clasp around his wrists as he loosens his grip on your throat.

“Please,” your voice is a gasp as you finally get oxygen unto your system. “Please, Tom, f-fill me up. Cum inside me.”

A small, throaty groan escapes his lips, and with one last desperate thrust he’s spilling balls deep inside your drooling cunt. His cum spills over the cusp of your used entrance, and when he’s done fucking it into you he pulls out with a sharp exhale.

You can feel his cum spill out of your raw fucked hole, the creamy fluid dribbling down your thigh and dripping onto the carpet below. Your clit throbs mercilessly, still devoid of any attention, but Tom is quick to put a stop to that. He drops to his knees, then, and it’s a surprising gesture that you didn’t expect. He doesn’t seem like the type to get on his knees for anyone, let alone you. But his tongue lolls out of his mouth as he spreads your knees and catches his cum into his awaiting mouth. He licks up your hole, circling your clit with practiced precision. You let out a guttural sound when you hear the obscene noises of the cum spilling out of you, along with Tom’s mouth slurping at your cunt vigorously. He works at you over and over, and you clench when you feel yourself nearing your high. It’s almost embarrassingly quick, but you’ve been denied so long that you need to do it and you need to do it now.

“I’m going to…” you gasp out, as he rubs circles into your clit. He lets out a loud grunt against you, his mouth working harder. “I’m cumming—god, I’m cumming!”

Your orgasm washes over you, hits you like a tidal wave in the middle of an incredibly large ocean. Tom works his tongue and lets you ride out your high, and he sighs and pulls away from your pussy when you come down.

He’s gathered enough arousal to fill his mouth generously, and he kisses you flat on the lips. His tongue slides against yours and you can taste your shared arousal on him. You whimper, licking desperately at his salty spend, and it’s messy and sloppy and absolutely depraved. His teeth nip at you as you swallow it all down.

You’re dizzy, on shaky legs. You turn around, finally getting to see Tom’s face coated in your slick and his cum. He grins at you, and something twists in your gut so primal you feel you might burst.

“Better get to studying, Miss Y/L/N,” he says. “It’d be a shame if this missed study session made you fail your OWLs.”

[larallott]

Being Tom Riddle's girlfriend includes:

Possessive: Tom has an intense need to claim what he considers his, and you are no exception. He keeps you close and makes sure everyone knows you belong to him.

VERY jealous: Tom’s jealousy runs deep, even though he tries to hide it. The mere thought of someone else trying to get close to you drives him mad.

Very protective: He’s always alert to any possible threat. Even if you don’t ask for it, he’s there to ensure no harm comes your way.

He won't admit it, but he likes lying on your chest because it relaxes him: Even though he would never confess it, in moments of intimacy, he enjoys resting his head on your chest. It brings him a rare sense of peace.

He likes when you run your fingers through his hair: He finds an unusual calm when your fingers play with his dark hair, though he would never admit it openly.

He doesn’t show affection in public: In public, he avoids displaying affection. He doesn’t want anyone to see him vulnerable, as it would ruin his image and make him seem weak.

He helps you with your exams: Even though he’s reserved, his intelligence is something he shares with you when needed. He guides you and ensures you excel in your studies.

He likes you sitting on his lap while he reads: When he’s absorbed in his books, he invites you to sit on his lap. He enjoys your closeness as he immerses himself in his reading.

Forehead kisses: His kisses are subtle and soft, especially on your forehead. They are his quiet way of showing affection and protection.

He wraps you in his cloak when it’s cold without saying anything: On cold days, he silently wraps you in his cloak, letting you feel his care and protection without a word.

He watches you sleep (tenderly): Although he would never admit it, in the quiet moments while you sleep, he allows himself to watch you with tenderness. His face softens, and for a brief moment, he looks almost human.

He loves leaving hickeys on your neck, collarbone, or anywhere: Marking you is his way of ensuring everyone knows you belong to him. He leaves hickeys as a visible reminder of his claim.

His kisses are slow but gradually become possessive: At first, his kisses are slow and deliberate, but they quickly turn more intense and possessive, as if each kiss is a reaffirmation that you belong solely to him.

[butternutt613]

Just Tom Marvolo Riddle casually corrupting Harry

[faithsoneluv]

i don't think people understand how hard it is not to ship tomarry / harrymort because what do you mean they're borderline canonically soulmates. what do you mean they're PROPHESIED to each other. what do you mean they're literal parallels, had the same childhood circumstances but turned out the exact opposite. what do you mean harry's the embodiment of the light side and tom's the embodiment of the dark even though they're so, so similar. what do you mean they both have common names even though they themselves are anything but common. what do you mean they have uncountable amount of bible references that apply strictly to them, what do you mean harry makes sure to mention tom's the handsomest in the room whenever he sees him and apparently likes their connection. what do you mean their wands share the core of the same phoenix and therefore literally can't kill each other even if they wanted to. what do you mean harry wanted to give him another chance despite everything he's done, what do you mean tom offered him his hand, what do you mean harry killed tom at the same age except the order of the numbers is reversed. what do you mean harry's eyes are the same colour as tom's favourite unforgivable (avada) AND the colour of his house, what do you mean TOM'S eyes are the colour of harry's favourite defence spell (expelliarmus) and the colour of his house. WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY ARE EACH OTHER'S OTHER HALF. WHAT DO YOU MEAN HARRY IS LITERALLY TOM'S SOUL??? 😭

NOT TO MENTION THESE THINGS AREN'T EVEN FANON LIKE...? lmk if i missed something though.

[sherbet-powder]

happy (belated) birthday, lord voldemort!!

(I spent so many hours slaving away for this I swear)

[reine-de-la-lune]

tom: *speaking in parseltongue* SSsSsSsS harry: take that back! *starts to fight in parseltongue* tom vs harry: SsSsSsSSSSSssss sssSsssSSS walbura: what the hell are you guys talking about? orion: i have no idea abraxas: they're flirting