#fem!tom riddle
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wives 💅
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Fem!Tomarry
I blame ya both. @monsieurclavier and @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger You're responsible for this. Seducing me with lesbian Tomarry and sexy ladies. *shaking my head*
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The rhythmic drips were a requiem of damned.
Scales glittered in the dull light of the expansive chamber; a guardian to her queen, the great basilisk coiled around a runic diagram, where a steaming cauldron simmered in the center with bubbling black liquid. Tom took a step back away from it and rolled down her dress shirt sleeves, revealing unmarred pale skin in the dim light. She opened the waistcoat of her uniform and unbuttoned her shirt, opening it enough to reveal the upper part of her breasts.
Next… she needed a bit of blood.
Well, a lot of it.
Her eyes were drawn to the sniveling, sobbing girl that lay a few feet away. The girl stared up at her from behind pitifully ugly glasses, wrists bound behind her back with conjured rope, and a gag shoved in her mouth. She thrashed on the ground, her screams muffled, and then sagged, her chest fluttering with her gasps.
“It’s a shame,” whispered Tom, her voice light and lyrical as she took a step forward. The bound girl hiccuped and sobbed in terror. She could almost taste it in the air. “You really shouldn’t snoop into other people’s business. Bad things might happen when you do.”
The girl wailed behind her gag.
“But it’s all right,” said Tom; her gentle tone was a dark constant to the gleaming knife she held in her hand. She stepped closer and knelt in front of her. The girl screamed some more, her glasses askew. “This will hurt, quite a bit. And when I’m done, I’m going to kill you.”
Tom smiled at the renewed sobs. She put a hand onto the girl’s shoulder and shoved her face down. The girl screamed again, legs kicking, body thrashing wildly, but Tom straddled the back of her thighs and grabbed her tied wrists. A lock of her short hair hung a few inches from her face as she hunched over the girl’s prone form. With a light caress, the knife brushed against the girl’s forearm.
It sliced through flesh with ridiculous ease, red blood blooming to life at the seam.
High pitched screams echoed through the Chamber of Secrets.
“There, there,” murmured Tom, but she couldn’t be heard over the cries. She dipped her fingers into the cut, coating them in blood. “Your blood is important to me. I shan’t waste a drop of it.” Tom painted runes, one by one, her right forearm. Though her runes weren’t drawn as steady, she did the same for her left forearm. Tom pried the cut open a little more, briefly jostled by the girl kicking in furious sobs of terror, and dipped her fingers with more warm blood. She drew another set of runes over her breasts and her heart. As she painted the final runes on her cheeks and forehead, she whispered, “Almost done now.”
Tom forced the girl onto her back. The girl continued to weep, but the life had been drained from her. Tom stood up and looked at herself, doubling checking the runes.
“I’m ready,” said Tom softly in parseltongue, a well of excitement bubbling up inside her. Scales slithered against the ground as the basilisk moved towards the lone girl on the ground. Tom lifted the diadem of Ravenclaw and gazed down at the girl. “Myrtle, you’ve been so good for me.” The girl let out a wretched sniffle. “Really, you’ve been a delight. But, sadly, this is where we part ways.”
Tom’s smile cut through the darkness.
“Kill her.”
“As you wish, Mistress.”
This was it. The moment she’d spent countless hours studying for, meticulously planning for - this was the moment she created her first horcrux, the first anchor to the mortal plane.
Except…
Multiple things happened at once. A flash of golden red light burst high above in the chamber, flames flickering on the stone ceiling. A bird cried, high and warlike, and more light illuminated the chamber. There was a girlish screech, a low curse, and a loud crash.
The cauldron toppled over, spreading out all over the stone floor and smearing the runic circle away. The basilisk shrieked in pain when it splattered her scales and reared back away from the spilled potion.
“Ew, ew, what is this?!” cried a new voice, a woman’s; though, it was a touch lower than the average girl. “Ouch, I think it’s burning me—shit, it’s definitely burning me—”
A rush of magic - wild, intoxicating, elysian - flooded through the entire chamber. There was another screeching, birdlike cry, mournful and powerful. The spilled, sizzling potion that had been meant to consume Myrtle’s blood and merge with the diadem vanished.
Months of work and preparation.
Gone.
Tom trembled with apocalyptic rage. The intruder—she’d have to die. Perhaps all wasn’t lost. She had two victims from which she could forge horcruxes from now. How long before someone noticed Myrtle’s absence? Tom could probably brew another potion in a shorter amount of time. She had the ingredients. Myrtle didn’t lose that much blood and she was still breathing.
Tom double checked.
Ah, yes. Myrtle was alive.
The intruder stood up, spluttering in such an undignified manner that Tom couldn’t keep the sneer from off her face. It was young woman, a girl who couldn’t be much older than Tom. Her strangely casual clothes were disheveled, messy, covered in dried mud, and she had a wild mane of black hair that looked as if it hadn’t been brushed a day in its life. A phoenix with feathers of a sunset landed on the young woman’s shoulder. It folded its wings and cuddled up against her hair, nipping through tangled strands.
But it was those eyes that captivated Tom the moment she saw them.
Hidden behind ugly circular frames, those emerald green eyes held an ethereal light to them, so unnatural that Tom had to wonder if they belonged to something supernatural.
Tom’s heart stuttered when those eyes locked onto her.
“Fancy meeting you here in the Chamber of Secrets, Tom Riddle.”
Coated in fresh blood, from her fingertips to her forearms, to the parted dress shirt and vest which revealed bloodied cleavage, Tom smiled up at the young woman in her most perfect, charming smile.
“And who might you be?”
“I’m Harry.” The phoenix trilled lightly, burrowing its beak into her hair. The young woman’s eyes never faltered. “Harry Potter.”
#harry potter#tom riddle#tomarry#fanfiction#fanfic#isa's writing#fem!harry potter#fem!tom riddle#f/f#well I guess this happened#I'm actually pleased with it#not bad at all#mywriting#lesbians#if you don't meet your future wife covered in blood are you even married
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Female Tom Riddle per a request for a genderbent rendition.
#genderbend#gender swap#female tom riddle#fem!Tom Riddle#tom riddle jr#tom riddle#tom marvolo riddle#tom riddle fanart#smccreaart#genderbent
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In fem!Tom Riddle fics many authors change Tom to a genderbent version of Thomas, i.e. Thomasina, Tamsyn.
Hot take: I think that if Merope had a girl she'd name her 'Tom Riddle' anyway because:
She sucks
She didn't call him Thomas, she just sent it with 'Tom' then died
HAHAHAHA TRUUEE.
(but i'm pretty sure tom marvolo riddle's father was also named tom and his grandfather was the one named thomas.)
#am i tweaking#im pretty sure#they weren't planning on having a son and naming him Also tom riddle#so yeah#anon.ask#tom riddle#voldemort#lord voldemort#fem!tom riddle
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[1-Глава];○Fem!OC reader [OC: fem!Harry [Potter] x Fem!Tom Riddle
[0]-Глава:/[0.5]-Глава/[1]-Глава/[2]-Глава(скоро)
А/Н: Предупреждения; Грамматические ошибки, возможно ошибки в текстах. Читайте на свой страх и риск, ведь если что-то случится, я не несу ответственность.
Том Марволо Реддл:— Тэмми Марволо Реддл
Гарри Джеймс Поттер:— Генриетта Энни Лопес
—♡ Fem!OC reader [OC: fem!Harry [Potter] x Fem!Tom Riddle
—Данное произведение происходит в молодости Воландеморта, где он ещё не Тёмный Лорд. А еще он теперь девочка, смиритесь с этим.
╔════▣◎▣════╗
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆°•✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽•*,☆.·͙*͙˚* ✩ *˚*͙‧͙˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.·͙*͙˚* ✩ *˚*͙‧͙
Pov: !•?ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
Женщина с раздражением на лице вышла из комнаты быстро и резко. А девочка по имени Тэмми, смотрела на Гарри с ожиданием, скрестив руки на груди.
Pov: Гарриˏˋ°•*⁀➷
Честно сказать, было даже очень тёплый приём! (Естественно это был сарказм). Я мысленно выдохнула и посмотрела прямо на Тэмми, и судя по выражение её лица, я ей не нравлюсь что было ожидаемо, не смотря на то что, смешно что маленькая и почти шести летний ребёнок, смотрить на тебя так строго что даже страшно. Я выпрямилась и ближе подошла к девочке, после остановилась в приличном расстоянии и протянула руку, слабо улыбнувшись закрыв при этом глаза.
Гарри: « Привет! Меня зовут Генриетта Энни Лопес, но ты можешь звать меня просто Гарри. »
Тэмми смотрела на меня с недоверием, и смотрела то на мою руку то на моё лицо когда я открыла глаза, все еще мягко и слабо улыбаясь. Девочка просто отвернулась и фыркнула.
Тэмми: «Тэмми Марволо Реддл...»
Хм... судя по её тону на её фамилию, она кажись презирает отца. Могу её понять в какой-то степени, мой был вообще отбитым, даже не смотря на то что иногда он и относился ко мне хорошо, но он все равно был жутким и ужасным. ЭТОТ ПРИДУРОК ДАЖЕ ХОТЕЛ ОТКАЗАТЬСЯ ОТ МЕНЯ ПОСЛЕ МОЕГО РОЖДЕНИЕ! После своих внутренних и быстрых мыслей, я убрала свою руку.
Гарри: «Рада знакомству леди Марволо, надеюсь мы с вами поладим.»
Лучше буду звать её так чем Реддл, и так видно что её фамилия от отца не нравится. Она снова на меня посмотрела и просто закатив глаза начала обращать своё внимание на книгу. Я пожала плечами и подошла к пустой кровати который находился в левой стороне комнаты, пока я устраивалась, Тэм заговорила.
Тэмми: «Слушай внимательно. Если ты сюда пришла, это не означает что я или кто либо еще в этом приюте будут с тобой хорошо относиться. Я здесь дольше тебя, и это комната моя, и я не стану чем либо здесь делиться. Если ты хочешь жить со мной, то старайся следовать моим правилам.»
Гарри: «Хорошо, как скажешь Марволо. Можно я сначала немного разберусь со своими вещами а правила ты мне после еды скажешь, идёт?»
Тэмми одобрительно кивнула и вернулась к своему чтению. А я, когда решила расставлять нужные мне вещи, начала мысленно успокаивать себя. Я конечно знаю что в 20х дети были... как взрослые, НО не настолько! Чтож, за то есть плюсы, Первое; девочка хотя бы может говорить внятно и понятно; Второе; Тэмми умна для своего возраста; и Третий; она просто очаровательная. Хаха, нет! Я не педофил... ну эм... Чёрт! Вот моё тело детское. И плюс ко всему, кажись и моя душа прилипает к детскому настроению. И практически и физически я ребёнок, ну и душевно немного наверное. Аааааагх! Я сама без понятии как работает эта реинкорнация! С одной стороны правильно и не правильно! Ладно! Это не имеет смысла!
Тэмми: «Эй! Ты хоть слышала о чём я тебе сказала?»
Гарри: «А? Что? П-прости Марволо, я не расслышала. Хехе.»
Тэмми лишь раздраженна выдохнула и закатила глаза что я до сих пор впечатлена её одновременно детским поведением а также взрослым жестом. Я начала нервничать из за того что меня будет отчитывать МАЛЕНЬКАЯ девочка! Тфу ты! Я аж покраснела от смущения!Тэмми встала с кровати положив свою книгу, и сказала мне когда завтрак, обед и ужин. И лучше нам обоим поспешить раньше всех, если не хотим остаться сегодня голодными. Я кивнула ей и быстро последовала за ней. И по дороге я начала расспрашивать её о разных мелочах. Например: Что тебе нравится? Какое хобби? И как живётся в приюте, да и прочее вопросы чтобы хотя бы знать часть того какие тут дети. Я даже умудрилась спросить её, знает ли она построение этого здание на что она немого удивилась посмотрев на меня. Но она с гордостью выпрямила грудь, будто на неё смотрят как на взрослую, и начала рассказывать где и какая комната здесь находиться. И скажу честно, это было слишком мило, я бы даже поспорила на то что я бы с радостью хихикнула бы. Конечно большую часть здании и какие там комнаты она не знала, но знала часть.
Она даже рассказала мне что она тут с рождение. Родителей она даже не знает, мать умерла при родах, а вот отец неизвестно где. И даже за едой я слушала что она рассказывала, но увы не успела она произнести продолжение как после еды у неё заворчал живот. Она была настолько смущенна что её некогда бледная кожа покраснела что отвернулась от меня.Я просто усмехнулась и придвинула к ней свою миску с едой.
Гарри: «Не надо смущаться Марволо. Можешь взять мою порцию, я не особо голодна.»
Тэмми посмотрела на меня с недоверием и аккуратно потянулась за миской. Я с улыбкой придвинула миске к ней поближе, она кажись даже подпрыгнула от моих действии что мне пришлось её успокаивать.
Гарри: «Успокойся Марволо, я ничего не сделаю, обещаю. Бери, не бойся.»
Тэмми аккуратно посмотрела на миску то на меня, а после начала аккуратно есть. Не смотря на мои сочувствия этого времени, я бы вряд-ли что могла изменить. А вот заботиться... ну... я даже не уверена, но я начинаю думать что, заботиться и помогать своей соседке будет хорошо.Но вот что меня на данный момент беспокоит, это её фамилия... Марволо Реддл...Чеееееерт! Я не хочу думать! И так была насыщенная неделя, а вот голову ломать ради фамилии думаю может и подождать, верно?
Pov: !•?ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
Гарри внимательно слушала то что говорила Тэмми, пока её не прервал грохот и громкого шума, которые исходил от поварешки об кастрюли которая держала М.Коул.
М.Коул: «Время в кровать! Пора спать, чтобы все были в своих комнатах! Если вы не успеете, будете спать на улице!»
В конце она прокричала и просто ушла. Все дети начали расходится а вот некоторые старшие дети ушли за пределы территорий приюта.
Гарри: «Она всегда такая шумная что даже дети сбегают?»
Тэмми: «Цыц... рано или поздно, это женщина будет гореть в аду...»
Гарри: «(Она такая мстительная... мне стоить волноваться?)— Ладно. Пошли в нашу комнату, не хотелось бы в свой первый же день нарушить глупые правила!»
Гарри усмехнулась и потащил за собой Тэмми в сторону дверей как им переградили путь, дети-хулиганы. Тэмми сразу напрягась, явно подозревала что задумали мальчики. Их было около пяти, Гарри посмотрела на них с пустым выражением лица, явно догадываясь что они хотят.
1-Хулиган: «Посмотрите ребята! Уродина нашла себе другую уродину, вы точно подходите друг другу, судя по вашим милым жестом~»
2-Хулиган: «Неужели нашла себе новое развлечение а, сорока?»
3-Хулиган: «Сорока как жизнь? Не думай что после тв��ей необычной силой, мы просто так отступим. Мы сломаем тебе руки а после ноги, ну или срежем тебе даже волосы! Заодно твоя подруга тоже может присоединиться.»
4-Хулиган: «Хэй, соседка сороки, давай лучше так. Держись подальше от этого монстра, и ты не пострадаешь, заодно останешся целой а мы предложим тебе защиту. Лучше присоединяйся к нам! С нами куда веселее!»
Все мальчишки посмеялись и давали друг другу пять. Тэмми сжала кулаки и стиснула зубы смотря на землю, Гарри вот не стала отступать и с нейтральностью смотрела на детей. Гарри сначала думала но усмехнулась делая шаг вперёд, Тэмми же просто стояла, смотря на Гарри. Она ожидала что её бросят и побьют, но что она не ожидала, это то что сейчас сказала Гарри.
Гарри: «Спасибо за предложение мальчики... но я думаю что компания Тэмми мне больше по душе. Знаете, вы мне очень сильно не нравитесь, а я девочка упрямая. Так что... лучше вам самим убраться отсюда, пока вы куски мусора не пострадали прямо здесь и сейчас...»
Все мальчишки вздрогнули а Тэмми с изумление посмотрела на Гарри, будто не веря своим ушам. Всё мальчишки начали злится и ближе подошли в сторону Гарри.
1-Хулиган: «Ты что-то сказала отребье? Можешь повторить а то я не расслышал.»
2-Хулиган: «Да, повтори лучше, а то ненароком муха пролетела мимо тебя!»
Гарри рассмеялась и убрала свои очки с лица, подойдя на шаг ближе к ним.
Гарри: «Оо~, так вы у нас не только тупые но и глухие! Эх бедные и жалкие дети, вам бы пора умытся, а то из за вашей жуткой вони, ваш мозг совсем перестал реагировать настолько, что вы выглядите как свиньи окупавшись в навозе.»
Гарри прищурилась на них, когда те залились красками, один из полных хулиганов потянулся за воротник девочки и начал кричать прямо ей в лицо что его слюны были разбросаны. Он начал оскорблять девочку, но Гарри хотела смеяться из за того что эти дети не умеют ругаться и внятно что-то произнести. Гарри вытащила платок с кармана и решила протереть вонючие слюны с её лица, после оттолкнула этого мальчика.
1-Хулиган: «Мы были к тебе достаточно добры соплячка. Ребята, пора её жестко наказать за её---»
Он был прерван одним ударом кулаком прямо в лицо. Тот отлетел на несколько метров и упал прямо в гряз, все мальчишки и включая Тэмми посмотрели на неё с изумлением, пока Гарри не ударила второго, а третьему вообще колено вывих, четвёртому было повезло меньше, ведь его лишили достоинства, вот пятый убежал. Гарри подошла к первому хулигану а Тэмми аккуратно последовала за ней. Гарри жёстко взяла его за волосы и подняла его лицо прямо на её уровне высоты.
Гарри: «Слушай сюда, ты жалкий полуфабрикат свиньи. Если я когда нибудь, увижу, узнаю о том что ты приставал к моей соседке, тебе не жить даже и половину своей жизни. Вздумаешь отправить своих скотов к нам, я без колебании отправлю тебя прямо в ад где тебе и место.»
Гарри последний раз сильно ударила прямо ему в лицо что тот лишился зуба и упал со страхом. Гарри выдохнула и вытерла свою руку своей салфеткой и кинула этот мусор прямо на этого мальчика. Гарри направилась на сторону дверей а Тэмми сразу за ней. У Тэмми было много вопросов, она хотела узнать Гарри ближе чем ей хотелось. Они оба шли по коридорам, но тишину прервала Гарри, которая остановилась и аккуратно подошла к Тэмми.
Гарри: «Ты как? В порядке?»
Гарри держала её руку что у Тэмми щёки порозвели, но быстро отмахнувшись, она повернула свою голову и выпрямилась.
Тэмми: «Я бы и сама справилась... и... в следующий раз предупреждай прежде чем начать драку. Ты дура! Ты знаешь это?! У тебя будут ещё больше неприятностей!»
Гарри: «И что с того? Знаешь, у меня нет желание быть побитым или стать предателем в первый же день. А ещё, мы же теперь сёстры!»
Тэмми вспыхнула от смущения, ей было одновременно очень приятно и одновременно не доверяла своей соседке, она на мгновение начала считать что девочка слишком глупа и прямолинейна, и ко всему прочему безрасудная, наивная и глупая девочка. Она начала задумываться а после возмущённо спросила.
Тэмми: «Чего? С каких это пор мы стали настолько близкими?! Ты не забегаешь вперёд?! Не думай что после твоей жалкой помощи с теми мальчиками, это улучшить отношение!»
Гарри: «Оу! Забыла что нужно время чтобы узнать друг друга поближе! Ладно, пойдём уже в нашу комнату змейка.»
Тэмми: «Не смей придумывать для меня прозвище!»
Гарри: «А вот уже поздно~ змейка!»
Тэм: «(Ты у меня заплатишь Лопес!!!)»
Тэмми с недовольством прорвалась вперёд, почти надувая губы, а Гарри просто смеялась сзади неё почти приобнимая её и без проблем увернувшись чтобы её не толкнули. Единственное что поняла Тэмми, это то что Генриетта Энни Лопес была самой раздражительной девочкой в её жизни. Она надеется что в будущем она уговорить её и сделает её своей пешкой в жизни.
•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•
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｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆°•✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽•*,☆.·͙*͙˚* ✩ *˚*͙‧͙˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.·͙*͙˚* ✩ *˚*͙‧͙☆▪︎¤
《Продолжение следует!》○●———>
А/Н: И так! Что ты думаешь о Потте---... эээ! Т-точнее о Лопесе Тэм?
Тэм: Она самая раздражительная девочка! Хоть она сильна, но вот ей благоразумие не хватает.
Гарри: (Мне Чёрт возьми 27 лет в душе! О каком благоразумие идёт речь! Обидно даже... хмпф!)
Тэмми: (Я же не стану признаваться что я немного ею восхищаюсь! К тому же... ей повезло просто, что, она мне немного понравилось!)
А/Н: (Они оба догадываются что прямо сейчас большинство читают их мысли? Может сказать им?)
#tomarry#harrytom#harry potter x tom riddle#fem!harry potter#fem!tom riddle#fem!tomarry#fem!reader#oc#Fem!reader x fem!Tom Riddle#fem!harry james potter#harry potter#tom riddle
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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.”
#bunny writes ͟͟͞☆#Tom riddle#Tom riddle x reader#Tom riddle x fem! reader#Tom riddle smut#Tom riddle fanfic#young! Tom riddle#Harry Potter#Harry Potter and the chamber of secrets#harry potter franchise#Harry Potter blurb#Harry Potter fanfic#Voldemort
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NO ONE LIKE YOU // t. riddle
RATING: R / 2.1K WORDS
Tom Riddle x Fem Reader Insert
+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* (Thank you to @orphicmortala for the request!) After having a very difficult meeting with his followers, Tom decides to take some frustrations out on you. He ends up getting a little too enthusiastic. (Smut, Angst)
+ WARNINGS - SMUT! (For the first part), piv - no protection, hair pulling, oral - m!receiving, mention of blood, Tom is kind of mean, rough sex, (very slight) pain play, dom!Tom, Reader eventually uses safe word, language, not fully proofread, fem reader (lmk if I missed anything)
+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -
Animal - Troye Sivan
- - -
The final light of day flashed through the Head Boy’s dorm room. It cast a honeyed glow around you for only a moment before pitching the whole world into blackness. When the sun disappeared behind the mountains along the edge of Hogwarts, it was always a very quick descent to dark. It wasn’t very gradient, just sudden.
Almost as soon as the light had dissipated, the door flew open, nearly hitting the stone wall behind it. You shot up from the bed you were lounging on. A chilled wind blew in from the hallway, sending wild flickers through the fire in the corner.
“Tom,” you breathed.
The man in question stood in the doorway, fuming silently. His jaw was clenched and ticking, his eyes dark and frenzied. You swallowed thickly at the animalistic energy pouring off of his body. What had happened?
He slammed the door shut behind him, a slight flinch shocking through your body at the loud sound. He stomped across the room, barely paying you any mind. He came to a stop in front of the blazing fireplace. His hands began roughly ripping some papers. You got to your feet.
“Tom?” you called gently, waltzing over to him. Your hands reached out to press a comforting touch to him when he turned abruptly.
“What?” he growled. You stepped back, dropping your hands immediately. He had never looked at you like this before. The fire in his eyes nearly reflected the blaze within the stone in front of you.
“I–I’m sorry, I was just…”
“Darling, I’m sorry,” he sighs, blowing air through his nose. “It’s been a rough day.”
“What happened?” you asked, stepping closer to him again. You wanted to comfort him. A small groan leaves him as he tosses the remains of the shredded papers into the flames. Your eyes flickered to the fiery confetti, wondering what it once had been.
“What was that?” you ask, finally coming to place your hands on his shoulders.
“Nothing, do not worry yourself with matters of the Knights,” he whispered.
“What can I do to help?” you ask, staring up at him with such quiet adoration. His eyes found yours, basking in the innocence pooled within them. He could hardly bear to see you so concerned with him, especially when his anger came from such a vile source. Those pathetic boys tried to impress him by insisting they’d found new information for him and presented it before the whole group. They’d laid out more information of his lowly bringing-up, discussing new details about his mother they may have found.
He’d slammed his fists on the table, demanding to know why they’d been looking into his family history. They had immediately snapped their jaws shut, unsure how to respond. Perhaps they’d thought he’d be happy with them for finding more information on his parents. He couldn’t care any less about his worthless parents. All he cared about was his plans. He thought that had been obvious, but apparently, these boys had thought otherwise. He was in a mind to completely expel them from the group and obliviate them.
“My love,” he whispered, placing a gentle but firm hand beneath her jaw. He’d never loved, and he never would. You knew this well and accepted it for what it was—you and Tom weren’t ‘dating,’ but he was yours, and you were his. It wasn’t necessarily love, but it was in your own way. You couldn’t really explain it, but you both felt it.
“I need you, darling,” he whispered against your ear, placing his lips to the skin there. You felt the electricity humming beneath his flesh. Your lips shuddered a bit in anticipation. You nodded, accepting him into you.
That was all he needed to roughly grab your face and press hot, fast kisses to you. He satiated his every need against your tongue, taking what he wanted. You sighed against his lips, feeling the way he shattered you and held you together.
He walked you back to his bed and let you fall down against it. He kept you pinned beneath his weight, his hands hungry and wanting. They gripped and spared you, leaving hard, peppered bruises in their wake. He was always rough with you, fucking and biting and choking. He didn’t make love, and you didn’t want him to. You’d come to him for the dark passion he exuded through his body. If you’d wanted something gentle, you’d have looked around Hufflepuff. That wasn’t an insult to your house, of course. You just knew exactly what you wanted.
His hands came up to rip the front of your shirt open, ignoring the way a button or two flung across the room. He’d get you a new shirt later. A low groan sounded in his throat as his fingers tightened around your breasts, kneading them with his long, deft fingers. He placed his face against your chest, inhaling deeply and pressing painful bruises on you. You whined at the feeling, beckoning him away from your pained skin.
“Shut up. I’ll do what I want,” he growled, continuing to mark you as painfully as before. His sharp teeth seared into your flesh, pulling blood to the surface and occasionally past it. When he finally pulled away, a small drop of bloodied saliva dripped from his lips as if in slow motion. You sighed at the visual, the heat beginning to pool rapidly between your legs.
He crawled up your body, quickly unbuckling and pushing his belt through the loops in his trousers. When it was free, he slid the button through its slit and shoved his pants down to his knees. He dropped his bottoms and released himself against his stomach. The hot skin was reddened and beating with his heart. You gasped at the sight, wanting to feel him within you so desperately.
“You know what to do,” he groaned. He curled fingers into your hair, roughly shoving your face toward him. You glanced up at him through your eyelashes, watching as he panted in anticipation. His pupils were blown wide, and his lips were parted, a hint of your blood still tattooed over his perfectly white teeth. Fuck, he looked gorgeous.
As your tongue came forth to swipe over his length as slowly as he’d allow you to, you realized you wouldn’t be finishing with him anytime soon. He intended to go as far as you could and then some. The anger built up in his chest was enough for seven men, and he loved nothing more than taking it out on you.
“Ah, you perfect fucking girl,” he groaned as you took him completely into your mouth. Despite his size, you did your best to push him to the very back of your throat, allowing him to caress you in places you’d never been touched before. His hands were tight against your scalp, forcing you to stay completely still as he bucked his hips into you. It wasn’t comfortable at all, but the feeling of being able to please him had you staying planted in place.
“You always take me so well,” he sighed, head angled toward the ceiling. Your thighs pressed so tightly together you thought they might combust. He was so perfect. “No one like you, no one like you, no one like you…” He mumbled endlessly, pushing those words into your brain.
You wanted him so badly—all you could think about was him. All you could see, smell, hear, taste was him. He surrounded you, forcing you to take him in every way you could. Every sense was blinded by him. And that was just how he liked you—drowning in him.
He pulled you from him before he could finish. He wanted to finish within you, just as he always did. You knew him well enough to turn yourself around and ready yourself to accept him. He tended to follow a bit of a pattern when fucking you, one you’d started to catch on to. He never had to ask you for anything anymore; you just did it.
He flipped your skirt over your ass, revealing the lack of bottoms beneath. Another groan left his lips as he placed his fingers over you, working every part of you apart like clockwork. He moved you open, lathering you in your arousal, marking your insides with his claim.
When he removed his hand from you and placed both of them on your hips, you bit your arm, preparing for him to split you down the middle. No matter how often the two of you had sex, you seemed to never adjust to his size. He always had to move as slowly as he could to work you apart gently. Perhaps you were a bit more sensitive down there than others, but he was always patient. Except for today, it seemed.
With little more than a brief hesitation at the start, he slid himself into you all in one go. A strangled gasp left you at the feeling. He wasted no time beginning to pound himself into you. He cared nothing of the pathetic whines and screams coming from your lips. Your hands white-knuckled the sheets as you begged him to slow down, to be gentler, anything. He didn’t fucking care. He wrapped a hand into your hair, using it as a bit of leverage. He was going to take out every bit of pent-up frustration on this tight cunt.
“Fuck, Slytherin!” you shrieked, the tears beginning to roll down your cheeks. He stopped immediately, his hips halting inside you. As if he was in a daze, Tom blinked rapidly and shook his head a bit. It felt as though he had been under a spell, the way he had been fucking into you.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he whispered. He gently pulled himself out of you, a pitiful whine leaving your lips. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
Hearing him say those words alone was enough to convince him how serious the situation was. Tom didn’t say sorry unless it was to a professor or to generally get someone off of his back. Usually, it was fake. This time, it wasn’t, and it rushed out of his lips before he could stop it.
He gently wrapped himself around you, slowly turning you and laying you back against his pillows. He kicked his pants down the rest of his legs and slipped the both of you beneath his comforter.
The cool green satin pressed softly against your hot skin, softly soothing it. He laid himself down behind you, his soft breath barely tickling the hairs on the back of your neck. Hesitantly, his hand slid over your stomach. It seemed as though he wasn’t sure exactly how to comfort you, but was trying his best.
“Darling?” he whispered against your back.
“I’m sorry, I just—”
“Don’t ever apologize to me,” he said. “I’m sorry that I…I shouldn’t have been so rough with you.”
A soft sigh left you. You’d never had to use your safe word with Tom before—had never even wanted to. Every aspect of the way Tom fucked had always intrigued you. The ways he handled you as if you were nothing to him but an outlet for his pleasure, the way he insisted on doing everything, the way he was genuinely concerned about your pleasure, despite himself. It often left you breathless.
Tonight, however, had been different. You felt less than you usually did when beneath him. Usually it was a nice feeling; like you were smaller, something for him to take care of. But tonight you’d felt pure hatred coursing through his body. You were scared that it was directed toward you.
“It’s not that, Tom,” you sighed. “I was worried that you were angry with me.”
His hands gently wrapped around you and helped you to turn toward him. His eyes watched you sternly. He wanted to put any affection that had built up inside him completely into you.
“I have never been angry with you—I was angry with my worthless fucking followers, always insisting they ruin my life in the most embarrassing ways possible.”
“Why would they do that?” You gasped, shocked that they’d even think of doing such a thing.
“They think that they’re helping or something,” he scoffed, jaw clenching. You could feel the anger radiating off of him.
“I’m so sorry,” you sigh, slipping your eyes shut. “I hope I didn’t upset you further—it was just a bit too much, I suppose.”
He nods understandingly, saying nothing more. The quiet and safety you felt when with Tom had you falling into a particularly deep sleep. Though you tried to fight it off, you could feel Tom’s eyes on you, watching as you slowly drifted off.
The last thing you remembered before slipping fully into sleep was Tom’s hand gently against your cheek, his cold thumb caressing a hair away from your face.
*Tag List: @lilymurphy03, @mypolicemanharryyy, @angelfrombeneth, @clairesjointshurt (if you would like to be added to the tag list, please comment on this post, send me a dm, or message in my inbox. Thanks!)
#fanfiction#creative writing#fanfic#writing#reader insert#harry potter#harry potter fanfiction#oneshot#slytherin#harry potter smut#tom riddle#tom riddle smut#tom riddle x reader#fem reader#request#requests are open
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Sugar - (tom riddle x fem!muggle!reader)
Summary: Perhaps it was an accident. Or perhaps the fates were mocking him. He had not meant to venture into the little coffee shop and he had most definitely not meant to return. But he kept coming back and the waitress kept putting sugar packets near his coffee every damn time.
Warnings: Tom gets possessive halfway through so it's pretty tame for him. not proofread. oh also self-indulgent crime & punishment debate (got a lil carried away).
A/N: 5.5k words but it's kinda mehh. to the person who requested this, i hope you enjoy it at least a little <3
⋆⋅☼⋅⋆
Tom felt as if he was a solitary figure in a world hushed by the winter's harsh embrace. With each step he took away from the desolate building of grey against the pristine canvas of winter, he felt lighter. He did not cast a look back towards the orphanage looming behind him, instead focused on the sound of the snow crunching beneath his feet as they led him further into the dark street cloaked in a thick layer of snow.
The wizard knew if he spent another moment in that cursed place he would have lashed out and killed someone, so he had hastily thrown his coat and emerald scarf around himself before slamming the door shut behind him.
Two more years. He thought to himself. Then he would be out and would never be obligated to return again. Perhaps he would even burn the place to the ground if his plans worked out in his favour.
The air was crisp, and his breath materialized in front of him with each exhale. His eyes quickly scanned the narrow empty alley for a suitable quiet place where he could pass his time. There was nothing interesting, except for the tiny bookstore nestled in the corner of the street that emitted a warm, golden light through its window. Tom quickly decided it would do, and he strode towards the place with purpose. A small bell chimed as he entered the place, which he quickly realised was a bookstore with a cosy coffee shop tucked inside.
He inhaled the pleasant aroma of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the scent of weathered books. Before he could lose himself entirely in the intoxicating symphony of scents, a sudden, loud thud echoed from behind the counter, jolting him from his reverie.
"Blimey!" someone cursed, their voice slicing through the tranquillity. Tom found himself rooted to the spot, curiosity piqued, as a figure suddenly emerged from underneath the counter.
It was a girl. Unabashedly, his eyes traced the lines of her features, noting the delicate curve of her jaw and the cascade of hair that framed her face. He assumed she was around his age if not younger and he stared at the girl as she rubbed her head, wincing when she hit a particularly soft spot before she realised that she was not alone in the shop. She froze like a deer caught in the headlights and he watched as her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red.
Tom, still an observer, saw more than just the blush; he discerned the subtleties of her response, the way her eyes momentarily widened before seeking refuge elsewhere, fingers fidgeting with the edges of her knitted cardigan.
She attempted to compose herself and met his eyes. "Oh! Sorry, sir. How may I assist you?" She asked cheerfully, resisting the urge to duck her head down to avoid his intense stare.
He crossed the small distance to the counter. "I'd like a coffee. Black."
"No sugar?" she inquired, to which Tom raised a single brow. Her blush deepened as she quickly averted her eyes from his face.
"Right, of course. You may take a seat while I prepare this for you." With a nod, she hurried to fulfil his request, leaving Tom alone with the lingering scent of coffee and old books that were now intertwined with a pleasant smell of vanilla and sweet—
It was her perfume, he realised with a start.
He hastily removed his coat and scarf before plopping down on the nearest armchair. His gaze remained fixed on the girl, absorbed in the rhythm of her practised motions as she prepared his drink, her movements seemingly both effortless and comforting. There was an almost lazy grace to her actions and he continued to watch as she sang under her breath so softly if he had not been staring so intensely, he would not have picked up on it.
He wondered how he had never noticed this place before. He had been passing through this little street for as long as he could remember but for some reason, he had only stumbled upon it today. His sharp eyes darted around, instinctively searching for traces of magic, half-expecting the discovery of a hidden passage to the wizarding world but he quickly realised the place was undeniably, disappointingly muggle.
Muggle.
He tore his gaze away from the girl at the mental reminder of what she was. He fished out a book from his bag and opened it to occupy his mind.
The subtle shuffle of her approaching steps drew his attention back to the present, and he met her gaze as she placed the steaming cup of coffee before him. A sugar packet sat innocently beside it. His eyes lingered on the packet for a moment before lifting coldly to meet hers.
She, however, was undeterred by the intensity of his glare. “In case you change your mind.” She smiled at him softly before turning on her heel and walking back.
His gaze lingered on her retreating figure, and then, almost involuntarily, it dropped to the innocuous sugar packet.
⋆⋅☼⋅⋆
Tom did not know why he had returned. Truthfully, he had not even noticed his feet had led him here until he was in front of the familiar wooden door that led into the coffee shop. Perhaps he had thought more than he should’ve about the disgustingly soft smile of that girl for the last five months. She was an insolent muggle, yet here he was, walking into the place as if he had never left.
The seasons had blurred since he had last been here. Winter had long surrendered to the warmth of summer. He had to spend at least a month in the orphanage, and he was hoping Malfoy would invite him over for the rest of the summer.
The place was just as he remembered it. The only difference was the lack of Christmas decorations. He faltered only slightly when he took notice of the girl behind the counter, already staring at him. She had not changed much. Her face was the same, less pale perhaps, but the same, nonetheless. The oversized knitted sweater that once enveloped her had been replaced by a little white sundress, and his gaze involuntarily lingered on the exposed smooth skin.
“Welcome back!” She greeted him cheerfully, and he was not surprised she remembered him. “What can I get you?”
“Black coffee,” he replied curtly
She nodded as if she was expecting it. "Coming right up." Gently shutting her book, she gracefully moved towards the coffee machine. Tom's eyes couldn't help but trail to the volume she had been reading, and to his pleasant surprise, it was Dostoyevsky. He had not pegged her as someone who would enjoy Russian literature, with its weighty and morally morbid themes. In his mind, she seemed more likely to be a Jane Austen enthusiast, with her intricately written romances and flowery prose.
“It’s 'Crime and Punishment'." He suddenly heard her soft voice declare, and he looked away from the book to give his attention to the girl. Then feeling as if she had said something silly, she blushed and looked away quickly. "Though I'm sure you figured that. I just wondered why you look so surprised."
He replied before he could tell himself not to. "I did not imagine you as someone who would enjoy this."
Emboldened at his words, she turned to face him, a hand casually resting on her hip as she sported a cheeky smile. "Am I to presume you imagine me often?"
His sharp inhale was audible as he absorbed the unexpected shift in her demeanour. He had not expected this shy, timid girl to tease him so boldly. She was a little vixen.
But he did not give her the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of him. A lazy raise of his brow was the extent of his acknowledgement before his gaze wandered towards the rows of bookshelves, feigning indifference. "Do you have another copy? Perhaps I shall like to reread this evening."
She frowned, walking over towards the table he had occupied last time to set his coffee down. He grimly took notice of the sugar packet placed near it. "I'm afraid not. But you can have mine."
"No, that is quite alri—" He began to decline but she had already crossed the small distance between them and was holding out the thick book. He hesitated for a moment before his fingers closed around the object, careful to avoid touching hers.
The girl smiled and walked away before he could even say thanks. Not like he was going to.
Settling back into the soft armchair, he opened the book only to freeze at the sight of a name scribbled on the front page and he knew it belonged to her. The wizard rolled the name around in his mind and determined that it suited her. He stared at her name for a minute longer before turning the page and delving into the content of the book.
He had been so immersed in the story that he had not noticed how the time had passed. The gradual hush of the coffee shop's ambient sounds finally penetrated his concentration, and he distinctly heard the girl approaching him.
"I'm sorry to disturb you but we're closing in five minutes." She looked at the book in his hands. "You may return it once you're done."
He hummed and looked down at where he had stopped.
"We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken."
He wondered if the universe was trying to tell him something.
Tom found himself caught in the silent narrative of this stranger's presence.
⋆⋅☼⋅⋆
He returned the next day.
She looked up to see him enter, the sleeves of his button-up shirt rolled up.
Tom placed the book on the counter.
"You finished it in one day?"
He shrugged. "I'm a fast reader."
She gave him a small smile, turning to make his black coffee before he could ask for it. "Every time I reread it it takes me a few days." She paused for a moment, turning to look at him over her shoulder. "The usual?"
He nodded. "The usual." He debated whether or not to voice his next question, and decided one conversation with the girl would not hurt.
"Why do you read it so often?"
"Each time I find new details that make Raskolnikov's character more complex. Each time I discover these small little things I missed the last time I read it becomes so much better. Plus I enjoy his moral dilemma."
He hummed, his curiosity piqued. He took his usual seat and watched as she brought his coffee and set it down in front of him. "Enlighten me." He gestured towards the seat in front of him. She hesitated only for a second before taking a seat.
"Raskolnikov is obviously a complex character. His actions are driven by a desire for power and superiority, a belief that he is exempt from conventional morality. However, one could argue that his internal struggles and eventual remorse suggest a more nuanced exploration of morality."
Tom furrowed his brows. "I see him as a product of his environment, a desperate man driven to extremes by the harsh circumstances he faced. His morality shifts to the other side of the spectrum."
She cocked her head to the side, and he could see her getting slightly frustrated. "But morality is not just a spectrum; it's a complex interplay of values, societal norms, and personal convictions. Raskolnikov's guilt stems from the clash between his actions and the intrinsic moral compass within him. It's the consequence of recognizing the weight of one's choices."
He scoffed before he could stop himself. "Morality is subjective. What is right for one may not be right for another. Raskolnikov was weak and he was an idiot. Guilt is a useless emotion and it is for the weak."
Her expression remained unwavering. "But perhaps it's that recognition of guilt that separates the morally discerning from those who lack empathy. The fact that you can't comprehend his guilt doesn't make it foolish. It makes it human."
Tom's eyes narrowed a glint of impatience in his gaze. "Human or not, guilt is a hindrance. It's a sentiment for those too feeble to rise above their actions. If I were to make a difficult choice, I would do it without hesitation, without remorse."
He only realised the slip of his tongue after the words left his mouth. He stilled, gauging her reaction yet her response was measured but firm. "Raskolnikov's guilt is a testament to his humanity, his ability to grapple with the consequences of his choices. It's what sets him apart from those who operate without remorse."
"But—"
"So what you're saying is you would kill and feel no remorse?" She cut him off.
Yes.
"You do not understand." He did not intend his tone to be so harsh, yet the words left his mouth coldly. She visibly withdrew and nodded stiffly. "Right. Enjoy your coffee."
He opened his mouth to say something but realised for the first time in his life he did not know what to say.
He was left staring at the cursed sugar packet she had left near his coffee again.
⋆⋅☼⋅⋆
He did not return the next day. Nor the day after. Or after.
⋆⋅☼⋅⋆
Two weeks passed with no sign of him.
And then she saw him step into the coffee shop. He walked in with determination. He walked up to the counter, meeting her gaze with an intensity that mirrored the unspoken tension between them. "I'd like a black coffee," he said, his tone even, though a hint of something lingered beneath the surface.
She nodded, her expression composed but guarded. As she prepared the coffee, the air seemed charged with unspoken words. Her usual cheerful smile was notably absent. The absence struck him, and he realised he had enjoyed her smiles.
When she placed the coffee in front of him, there was a palpable pause. He glanced at the sugar packet, a subtle acknowledgement of the lingering disagreement. Without a word, he took it, his eyes meeting hers briefly before he poured the sugar into his coffee.
She looked at him, her gaze unwavering, before a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
⋆⋅☼⋅⋆
He returned the next day. And the day after that. And for the rest of summer.
⋆⋅☼⋅⋆
The next time he stepped into the familiar place, winter had covered the city with a snowy blanket once again. It had been a year since he first discovered this little place. And he had not seen his little waiter since he left for Hogwarts in September.
When he walked in, her eyes lit up visibly. "Hi!" She waved at him with a bright grin.
"Hello." He greeted as he unwrapped his scarf and settled in his usual seat. In a matter of minutes, she was bringing him his usual order. She was back to wearing her warm knitted sweaters. "How did you enjoy the book?"
"Oscar Wilde never disappoints," he said. She hummed in agreement, pleased at his words. He watched as her hands dropped to fidget with the bottom of her sweater. "You wish to ask me something." He stated. "Ask."
"Do you study in a boarding school?"
Tom hesitated only for a moment before replying. "Yes."
"Oh. Well, that explains the months of not showing up."
"Were you expecting me?" He teased her with an amused smirk, taking delight in the way her cheeks reddened.
"I was just wondering that is all," she admitted, a hint of curiosity peeking through. Tom observed her, noting the return of the timid, shy girl from their first encounter. It amused him how a few teasing remarks could momentarily whisk away her fiery boldness. He couldn't help but wonder what it would take to awaken it once again.
"And do you wonder about me often, little vixen?" he added, a playful glint in his eyes.
She blushed harder at the nickname but then as if a thought had struck her, she straightened and Tom watched as she visibly mustered up her courage. "I actually was wondering your name."
He bristled, but she must have not noticed because she continued. "I suppose I have not given you mine either." She mused out loud and announced her name to him. "But I thought it bizarre that considering all the time we've talked we never got around to that. Friends who do not each other's names." The girl laughed at the last notion and only then she realised that Tom had remained unnervingly quiet throughout the exchange. She raised her eyes from the frayed edges of her sweater, and the sight almost made her take a step back. His eyes had darkened, and she could have sworn she saw them flash red. There was no warmth, no familiarity in his gaze.
"Are you alright?"
Suddenly, he rose from his seat, an ominous tension permeating the air as he advanced towards her with every word. "We are not friends. You dare to think I would be friends with the likes of you?" His words were sharper than the keenest of blades, cutting into her with merciless precision. "Foolish, little girl," He spat out before grabbing his things and storming out of the place. As the door closed behind him, the little coffee shop seemed to exhale, the echoes of his harsh words lingering in the hushed aftermath.
She stood frozen in her place, helpless against the storm of emotions and the tears that began to veil her vision.
⋆⋅☼⋅⋆
Tom fumed for months after their last encounter. How dare the ignorant muggle insinuate that they were friends? He scarcely considered his Knights of Walpurgis as his friends, and she thought she would just appoint herself the title? Who did she think she was?
"Mate, you alright? You've been unresponsive for a while." Malfoy nudged him slightly, attempting to draw his attention back to the present.
Tom made a noise of acknowledgement before mentally shaking the image of his little waiter— no, not his, he berated himself— from his mind.
But no matter how he tried, he could not. He could not just banish her from his thoughts. He knew a part of him, a rather embarrassingly large part of him enjoyed her company, her passion, her conversations— just her.
And there, tucked away in the recesses of his trunk, lay her damned book— a taunting reminder of her. The temptation to burn it, to obliterate any remnants of her from his life, danced on the edge of his thoughts. He had shoved away, out of sight if only just to save himself the fury, the anger, (the longing).
He wondered if she was going through the same turmoil as him. He hoped she was. She had no right to make him feel this way and get away with it unscathed.
But she was too enticing to give up. He did not know what it was about her. She was a muggle, an ordinary, plain girl working at a forgotten little cafe. Sure, she liked books, but so did a lot of other people. Yes, she was pretty, but so were a lot of other girls. But none could even come close to stirring his emotions as she did.
Perhaps it was the ease with which she conversed with him. Or the entirely too cheery smiles. Or her endearing knitted sweaters— though he secretly favoured the sundresses.
He, of course, knew what it was. He had tried to deny the idea to himself, but there was no escaping it. Tom had never been able to be unequivocally authentic with another individual before. From his early childhood, he refused to allow anyone close to him. He never lowered his walls and rejected anything that would yield a genuine connection. It was refreshing with her. He had no cause to uphold a curated facade.
Had she not been a muggle, he would entertain the thought of her bewitching him. He would have been convinced the girl put some spell on him or slipped a potion into his drink.
It was maddening.
She was maddening.
He sighed upon realising that he had spiralled again thinking of her. He needed to return the book, and maybe that would ease his mind. Perhaps once he was rid of her possession, she would not haunt him anymore. (Though he knew he was only trying to reassure himself with the last thought.)
As summer loomed around the corner, it felt both too distant and too imminent, mirroring the paradox of his tangled emotions.
⋆⋅☼⋅⋆
The sound of her laugh rang out before he could even close the door behind him. His head snapped up so fast it was a wonder he did not get whiplash. But there she was, his little waiter, chuckling delightfully as some boy spoke lowly from behind the counter. Chuckles escaped her lips, and she bit down on her lip in a futile attempt to stifle the laughter, her hands deftly at work preparing a drink. Despite her efforts, laughter bubbled forth once more, forcing her to set the cup down to avoid any potential spills.
An immediate surge of anger coursed through him. Who was this boy? What business did have with her? What right did he have to elicit such genuine laughter from her? (Most importantly, how dare she replace him?)
Tom swallowed the lump in his throat, attempting to gather himself into some semblance of a composed, unaffected man that he most definitely was not at that moment. With a loud, purposeful cough, he sought to catch her attention.
She spun around, the practised smile reserved for customers settling onto her face as she readied herself to serve him. However, the smile swiftly vanished the moment her doe-like eyes locked onto him. She looked like a deer caught in headlights as she stared at him, wide eyes roving over his face as if to confirm that he was really standing there, in front of her, and was not a figment of her imagination.
Because despite their last encounter, despite the anger, and the hurt she had felt, she kept hoping he would return. She kept imagining him standing there, with his ridiculously fancy scarf as he spewed out an apology. She had delved so deep into her fantasies involving him that now that he was actually there, she did not what to do or to say. Her tongue was tied, and her brain was fogged. What was she supposed to say?
It seemed he decided to grant her mercy and be the first to break the tense silence.
“Hello.”
“Hi.”
He shuffled closer, though his steps were unsure, unlike his usual confident strides that she was used to seeing. “I wished to return your book.” He declared yet made no move to reach into his bag for the said book. He allowed his eyes to drink in the sight of her, her eyes that always seemed to glisten, her hands that were always fidgeting, her little sundress that he was afraid would drive him to insanity, (and her lips that he wished he could press against his own just so he could find out what they felt like, tasted like.) He shoved the last one into a drawer in his mind and locked it away. He could not fantasise about her. She was a muggle. He could not stoop so low as to hold affections for a muggle girl.
“Did you enjoy it?” The girl asked tentatively as if afraid one wrong word would set him off, have him spitting more harsh words that would dig deep into her skin and remain there.
“As always.” He replied. Because every book she gave him held another meaning. She was a clever girl, choosing the ones that she knew would have him coming back with a strong debate prepared in his mind. They always seemed to stand on opposite sides of every argument that the books posed, ensuring that their discussion would get heated, exciting, and thrilling.
While Tom vehemently disagreed with her views, he found pleasure in the way her mind worked. He admired her quick-wittedness, her ability to counter every argument he posed. No one else had engaged him in such stimulating conversations. She was a breath of fresh air, a captivating force he wanted to inhale and never release. He yearned to suffocate in the essence of her being, to be consumed and to consume in return. He wanted to own her— that irrational desire to keep her for himself was always there in the deeper parts of his mind that he was scared to venture into.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She responded but he could detect the subtle undercurrent of uncertainty in her voice.
He hesitated. “May I have one black coffee?” He was extending an olive branch, and while it was not an outright apology, coming from Tom, it was a whole declaration.
“It’s five minutes until closing time.”
She would not be swayed so easily then.
Fine. Tom thought. He would make her come to her senses.
The boy who he had forgotten was still there suddenly came to stand next to him. Tom eyed him with disdain, his features curling into an unimpressed sneer, raising a lazy brow.
“I’ll help her close up, mate. You can leave now.”
“Daniel, that is not necessary.” She muttered, glancing between the two men nervously. Daniel? Tom clenched his jaw, enraged. In his absence, it seemed she had gotten on first-name basis with a boy. His mouth soured with the taste of betrayal at her blatant ignorance. How could she discard him so easily? Had she not suffered all these months at the mere thought of him? Had he been alone in his suffering?
“No,” Tom stated flatly. “You will leave.” He told the boy then turned to face his waiter. “We will talk.”
“Tom, I do not think—”
He cut her off with a hiss. “It was not a request.”
Daniel seemed wholly displeased. He opened his mouth to argue, but his girl beat him to it. “It’s okay, Daniel. I will see you some other time.”
“Whatever he has to tell you, surely he can say in front of me.”
She shook her head gently, trying to dissuade him. “It’s a matter between him and I. I would rather talk privately.”
Tom looked smug as he faced Daniel again, struggling to contain his smirk. He could see the indignation clear on the boy’s face as his eyes flickered dubiously between her and Tom. He knew the wizard was no ordinary acquaintance of her, he could feel the palpable tension in the air like a wolf.
Tom, of course, wished to push his buttons further, just to have the last word. “You heard her. Leave.”
Daniel scoffed. “I will see you tomorrow then.” He muttered and with one last long look, he squared his shoulders and left the café with as much dignity as his wounded pride could muster.
As the door shut with a final thud, they were left in pregnant silence, both unsure of the dynamics at play between them. The air in the café hung heavy with unspoken tension as if the silence itself had taken on a weight, pressing down on them both. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed louder than usual, each second echoing in the quiet space.
She was the first to cave. "Well? You wished to talk." Gesturing towards him with a hand expectantly. "Talk."
Tom inhaled sharply, and for the first time in his life, he did not quite know what to say. How to proceed.
"Who is he?" The question tumbled from his lips before he could stop it.
She raised a brow. "Seriously? After how you walked out of here last time I would think your choice of words would be different."
"Different? I hardly think the question was unfair."
She huffed impatiently, discarding her apron as she turned from him to put everything away for the night. "Of course. How foolish of me to assume that you have no business inquiring about my life when we are not even friends." She chuckled bitterly. "You made the notion quite appalling if memory serves me right. You wish to know who is Daniel? For all you know, he could be my fiancee. Would it matter? No. Because you and I are hardly acquaintances."
An unfamiliar feeling began coiling in the pit of his stomach, and he suddenly felt sick. She briefly turned to fix him with a pointed glare and froze at the look on his face. The dancing flames of the candles seemed to mirror the flickering emotions in Tom's eyes—flames of irritation, discontent, and an unexpected pang of jealousy.
Tom could scarcely believe his fate. How was it that he— the most powerful wizard of his generation— had succumbed to the pathetic disease of— what was it? Desire? Lust? Infatuation? Such mundane urges were beneath him, he had no wish to pursue anyone or anything that was not remotely related to his quest for power. Yet there she was. In her infuriating fucking dress and those innocent eyes. Did she even know what sort of turmoil she had caused him?
All of a sudden he felt exhausted, defeated. His shoulders sunk visibly as he ran a hand through his hair. He would use a hundred of her sugar packets in his coffee if it meant she would just grace him with her bubbly smile again and just— just what? Leave him be? He did not want that. Treat him as if nothing had happened? Maybe. Release him from whatever enchantment she put him under? Yes.
"What do you want from me?" He asked at last, frustration clear in his voice.
She regarded him with disbelief as she rounded the counter to stand directly in front of him. "What do I want from you?" She repeated incredulously. "I want an apology! I want an explanation! I want—" she sighed, cutting herself off before she could finish the thought. "You cannot just show up here demanding things and ordering people around after how you treated me last time. If you wish to continue this conversation, you will apologise to me."
"You want me to say sorry?" He took a step towards her.
"Yes!"
"Fuck your apology."
Before she could register what was happening, Tom closed the minute distance between them and caved into his desire. He grabbed her face, fingers threading through her hair, and pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was not gentle; it was a collision of pent-up tension and bottled-up desires.
Tom's lips moved fervently against hers, pouring his frustration into the act. It was a silent declaration that transcended the boundaries of his complicated inner turmoil. Tom knew that. But he could not pull away from her— not after having tasted how her lips feel like.
Her hands, which had hovered hesitantly in the space between them, found their way to his shoulders, fingers gripping the fabric of his coat, pulling him closer.
She felt—tasted like God's favourite nectar, sweet and addictive and he knew he would never get enough of it. She might not have been a witch, but he was bewitched by her.
As they broke apart, breathless, the air between them hung heavy with the residue of their shared kiss. He dared not to ease his hold on her, only stared at her with darkened eyes, taking delight in the way her lips were bruised, and puffy, all because of him. But it was not enough. He needed to mark her for all to see.
He dove into the tender skin of her throat like a man starved, teeth sinking into her flesh with no warning, and a sick sort of satisfaction washed over him at the muffled moan that escaped her mouth. He sucked on the skin until he was sure there would be a purple mark blooming on the spot before running his tongue over the flesh to soothe the sting. He did not waste any second before moving to mark another spot.
"I do not even know your name." She managed to choke out in between her whimpers, hands moving of their own accord to tangle in his hair, and a particular tug had him growling deep in his throat.
"Tom." He whispered, pulling away from her neck only to return his lips to hers. "Say it. Say my name." He murmured in between the kisses, pushing her back until her back was pressed against the counter. He easily picked her up to place her on the surface, his fingers trailing along her thighs to her knees to nudge them apart so he could stand in between them.
"Tom." She breathed out in a daze, and he smirked in delight.
She was his. He had already branded her, and he would do much more to ensure she knew it was him she belonged to.
He leaned to brush his lips against the shell of her ear. "I hope you know there is no going back from this. From me." He whispered, fingers slipping under the strap of her dress and dragging it down her shoulder slowly. "You are my dirty little secret now. Mine."
She shuddered under the weight of his words but he was already snaking his hand around her throat as his lips found home on her own once again.
No going back.
⋆⋅☼⋅⋆
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Not A Gentle Lover
Tom Riddle x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Smut, pure smut, rough sex, p in v, fingering, praising
Summary: Tom pulls you away from what you're doing to have his fill of you...again.
Soo this is my first time trying to write smut, it's not the best and my punctuation is probably messy but I'm still posting this anyway~ Minors DNI 18+ (hides away in shame)
Tom Riddle was not a gentle lover.
He was possessive, obsessed even, when it came to how good your fucking cunt felt when he was buried so deep inside of it. This was the fourth time this week the head boy had sought you out, always without a single sentence uttered. Just those dark eyes boring into yours as he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you away from whatever it was you were doing. You followed behind wordlessly, trying to keep up with his pace as he nearly dragged you to his private chambers.
Once the doors were locked his hand had already snaked its way up inside of your skirt, sliding one finger inside your folds while his thumb plays with your clit. Hissing at how wet you are from just the mere touch he’s burying his head into your neck as he’s pushing you backwards, both of you stumbling until you fall back against the mattress of his bed and he’s towering over you. He slides a second finger inside of your cunt making your back arch up as he begins to pump his fingers in you. The way your walls squeeze around his fingers is maddening, how can something like this feel so damn good? He shows no mercy to your clit, rubbing it till the point he knows you're overstimulated. Your whines turn into cries as tears prick at the corner of your eyes threatening to spill over, until your hips buck against his hand begging for release.
But Tom Riddle wasn’t a gentle lover
Instead of giving you your orgasm, he rips it away, leaving you nearly sobbing as he pulls his fingers out and shoves them into your mouth, and you hopelessly suck on them as he’s using his other hand to unbuckle his belt and get his pants down. The way he moves is like a man starved, so desperate and in need. When he’s free from his restraints he’s leaning over you as he pulls his fingers out from your mouth. His hand pulls your skirt up until it’s resting over your hips. There’s no foreplay, no easing into it, he unceremoniously shoves his cock deep inside of your cunt and growls at the sensation of you taking him in. He moves his head burying it into the side of your neck as his hands move down to your thighs gripping them tightly as he spreads you open more.
“Good Girl.”
Two little words, yet they can carry the pleasure of the entire world in them with how he says them when he’s with you. This was his way of praising you. You were such a good girl for taking his cock in the way you did. Such a good girl for letting him fuck you stupid, and such a good girl for never pushing back with him. Tom Riddle was not a gentle lover, this man was the definition of rough. His hand found its way to your throat as he began to mercilessly thrust himself deep within your cunt, not stopping when you whine or whimper because he knows his good girl can take it.
And boy do you ever.
You’re left writhing beneath him, hands fisted into the sheets as words escape your head and all that comes out of your pretty little mouth are cries of pleasure mixed with pain. Tom has the skill to fuck you so hard that you’re left sore and wanting more. You already know tomorrow is going to be a rough day for you from the grip he’s got on your thigh and the way it’s making its way slowly toward your hip. With each thrust his hips seem to find more prowess, more power as he rails into you with such an intensity it makes the bed beneath you two shake. He’s growling against your neck, the sensation of his lips vibrating against your skin drives you mad as you can barely make out what he’s saying…is that parsletongue? You wonder if in his state he’s trying to summon the basilisk in the chamber of secrets, or if he’s merely trying to will his own basilisk deep inside of you to stay strong long enough until he’s had his fill.
It was the latter.
Tom proceeds to fuck you like this for hours, in that time the rest of your clothes find their way strewn across his room and with every orgasm he gives you he fucks you right through it. This man is like a tom cat in heat, unable to stop himself until one final grunt escapes him and he cums deep inside of your cunt one last time collapsing onto the sheets beside you. Things stay like that until you both pass out, and when you wake up hours later on your side, and you are sore all over. Your mind is reeling over the events that just happened, you’ve done this with Tom many times now and yet every time you guys finish you end up waking up wondering ‘what have I done?’ ‘Am I just a plaything?’ ‘What does this mean?’
And every time this happens you feel an arm slide underneath your head, and another wraps its way around your waist. Your mind has been so loud that it wakes Tom up hearing the way you’re spiraling inside your head. He presses his body against your back and his lips press against your neck, his touch almost like a feather as he presses a kiss against it making his way up to your ear where you hear his voice rasp out something that shuts your mind off immediately and you relax into him.
“My Good Girl.”
Tom Riddle may not be a gentle lover, but he knows his way to keep you wanting more.
#slytherin boys#Tom Riddle smut#tom riddle#harry potter#tom riddle x fem!reader#tom riddle x you#tom riddle x reader
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tom eating you out with his parselmouth skills ♡.
18+ mdni
Tom’s tongue game is unmatched. Him being a parselmouth gives him a leg up when it comes to controlling his tongue. He can manipulate and move it around in ways no one else has before. His tongue can flick against your clit so fast it almost becomes a vibrator, he can make you cum so fast without really putting in any effort.
#natti’s 18+#tom riddle x reader#tom riddle x reader smut#tom riddle x fem!reader#tom riddle x you#tom riddle x y/n#tom riddle smut#tom riddle#harry potter#harry potter smut
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Mary Riddle (named after her grandmother)
#no its not an oc its the fem version of tom riddle#tom riddle#tom marvolo riddle#tom riddle fanart#tom riddle jr#tom marvolo riddle fanart#tom marvolo riddle gaunt#lord voldemort#tom fem#tom riddle fem#lord voldemort fanart#tomarry#harry potter fanart#harry potter#harrymort#digitalart#digitalartist#digital illustration#fanart#illustration#artists on tumblr#doodle#sketch#digital sketch#digital doodle
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Tom Riddle x Reader x Mattheo Riddle Love Triangle Headcanons
Warnings/Includes: Tom & Mattheo are brothers, Fem!Reader, nsfw, toxicity, mentions of drugs and drinking, love triangle
There's no doubt that their both overprotective and possessive over you.
Tom likes to keep your company to himself when it comes to dates. He'll take you down to the chamber of secrets. You both have study dates where he tutors you on whatever class your having a problem with. He also likes to sit by the Black Lake with you.
Mattheo also likes to have dates with you at the Black Lake, and likes to swim in there rather then sitting around like Tom. He takes you to parties and likes to dance with you at them. You both also have study dates, but it's with you tutoring him instead because he was either high during the lesson, slept in, or he just wasn't paying attention during class.
Tom doesn't like to show that much physical affection in public, but might put his hand on your thigh when your both sitting down. But Mattheo loves having you sit down on his lap when you're both in the Slytherin common room, making out at parties, and usually has an arm around you when walking with you.
Mattheo loves seeing you wearing his shirts, whereas Tom likes to see you wearing his family ring.
Mattheo loves making Tom jealous and tries to get a rise out of him. Since they both share a dorm, Mattheo will purposefully be shirtless around Tom to show the scratch marks you left on his back after spending a night with you.
They'd both try to get you to admit that they're better than the other. Mattheo would fuck you hard, trying to get you to admit that Tom can't fuck you as good as he can, and Tom would focus on your pleasure, trying to get you to admit that Mattheo doesn't make you feel as good as he does.
They're both really jealous of each other. Mattheo is more sensitive out of the pair and may come to you for reassurance. But sometimes he may try to start a fight with you, flirting with another girl and then when you get jealous he'll get angry at you. Telling you that you have no right to be angry when you're fucking his brother. You'd got to Tom afterwards to vent and Tom wants to be angry at his brother for upsetting you - and he is -, but he also thinks about how you fighting with Mattheo can make you and Tom closer.
They both don't trust each other with you. Mattheo is scared that Tom will make you get the Dark Mark, and if Tom does, it might result in the biggest fight these two brothers have been in.
Between the drugs, partying, and drinking, Tom believes that Mattheo is a bad influence on you, that Mattheo won't take care of you like he can.
You'll have to choose between them both at some point, because their jealousy and paranoia over the other will get to them, and neither one of them will handle rejection from you well.
A/N: I haven't read the fic that Mattheo is from, so his parts were all based off of what information I could find online😭😭
#tom riddle x reader#tom riddle#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo x you#mattheo riddle#harry potter x reader#x reader#tom riddle x fem!reader#mattheo riddle x fem!reader#harry potter#tom riddle x you#slytherin boys x reader
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Fem tomarry shirt cut meme! ♥️
#hp#tomarry#tomarrymort#harry potter#tom riddle#fem tomarry#my art#fanart#*shania twain plays ominously in the bg*#this was so fun to experiment with!#ignore that fact that three of these aren’t even really shirt moments 💀
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this is probably such a stupid observation, but why is it that in majority of fem!tom depictions, she’s a lesbian, but canon!tom is mostly depicted as gay?? like, literally why? Make up your mind people!!!
#also canon tom is aroace you can’t change my mind#tom riddle#fem!tom riddle#also wtf happened to bisexuality??
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[0.5-Глава];○Fem!OC reader [OC: fem!Harry [Potter] x Fem!Tom Riddle
[0]-Глава:/[0.5]-Глава/[1]-Глава/[2]-Глава(скоро)/
А/Н: Предупреждения; Грамматические ошибки, самоубийство, возможно ошибки в текстах. Читайте на свой страх и риск, ведь если что-то случится, я не несу ответственность.
—♡ Fem!OC reader [OC: fem!Harry [Potter] x Fem!Tom Riddle
—Данное произведение происходит в молодости Воландеморта, где он ещё не Тёмный Лорд. А еще он теперь девочка, смиритесь с этим.
•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•
Прошло около 3 месяца с тех пор как женщина стала матерью а мужчина стал отцом. Имя ребёнку давно подобрали и назвали её «Генриетта Энни Лопес». Поначалу отец холодно и с презрением относился к ребёнку но со временем начал исправлять негативные эмоции и стал улыбаться чаще как и жене так и ребёнку. Но вот Генриетта или просто Гарри, как её любит называть отец, была странной. В отличии от других детей которые еще плакали, кричали и ко всему прочему которых было тот еще трудом понять их, она была спокойнее, часто принимала пищу и редкость кричала и плакала. Она кричала лишь тогда когда у неё заполонялись пелёнки, плакала когда хотела есть. Мать на мгновение подумала что возможно на её дитя повлияла какая-то магия, но она как ведьма из волшебного мира ничего не могла найти из своего ребёнка. Она благодарна Мерлину за такого легко понятного ребёнка а вот отец… отец был наоборот противоречивым. Он считал своего ребёнка жутким на что он поправился языком от своей жены. Она не была довольна что её муж ведёт себя противно с её, или точнее с ИХ общим ребёнком. И вот и года не прошло как родители начали спорить друг с другом. Затем девочке наступило пять лет. В этом возрасте все играли, кричали то на площадке прыгали и бегали, а вот девочки играли в куклы по большой части. Но не Гарри, она скорее всего больше походила на мальчишку, у неё был такой же хулиганский характер, она предпочитала бегать, прыгать и лазать по деревьям. Вместо платье предпочитала шорты, брюки. Мать конечно поначалу была в шоке от этого в отличии от отца который просто усмехнулся. Отец был в какой-то степень доволен, ведь не придется тратить лишние галеоны на пустые розовые шмотки как он считает. Гарри была весёлой девочкой хоть и большинство девочек её опасались, а мальчики лишь смеялись над ней. Единственное что Гарри делала на оскорбительные комплименты, лишь показывала им язык и строгое лицо. Её зелёные глаза сияли, а тёмные волосы лишь добавляли жуткости в ней. Отец все же решился обращаться с ней также, как он хотел бы обращаться со своим сыном (но его нет) а вот мать старалась учить её манерам и этикетку, что на удивление та быстро усвоила, а мать гордилась этим.
◇Предупреждения, начинается не самая приятная сцена◆
Все было в семье спокойно до тех пор, пока не случился инцидент…
Родители девочки Генриетт Энни Люпес были мертвы. Один из тёмных волшебников решил пробраться в дом семьи, но его поймали. Отец был обычным маглом и единственное что он сделал, он начал биться по магловски. Стрелял прямо на тёмного волшебника и когда мать решила помочь своему мужу отбиться от преступника, внезапно отец ненанороком попал прямо в мать, а та уже успела своим заклинанием убить тёмного волшебника. Весь этот ужас и скандал увидела Гарри, та с страхом и со слезами на глазах смотрела перед собой. Прямо перед её лицом мать упала на пол намертво, без маленьких частей живота, а отец был сломлен, и он упал на колени и с ужасом смотрел на свою дочь и бормотал разные вещи перед носом. Девочка с дрожью подходила к отцу но тот сильно оттолкнуть девочку что та ударилась об комод. Отец был в панике, не выдержав столько эмоции он решил…Прикончить себя! Он безумно смеялся, подошёл к своей мёртвой жене из которой торчали её внутренние организмы, он на последнем противно и грязно поцеловал её и застрелил себя, не думая о своей маленькой дочери…
｡･: *: ･ﾟ★, ｡･: *: ･ﾟ☆°•✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽•*, ☆.·͙*͙˚* ✩ *˚*͙‧͙˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.·͙*͙˚* ✩ *˚*͙‧͙
Прошло около недели с тех пор, как Гарри осталась сиротой. К её удаче, ей досталось все пособие и наследство как и от матери так и отца. Она сможет получить их полностью как и какой-то дом по документам когда ей исполнится 15 лет. А сейчас девочка сидела в карете с её багажом, и ехали они по шумной улице.
Гарри: «(Боже… хоть внутри я и взрослая женщина, но меня все равно трясёт от этой картины…)»
Девочка задрожала и крепко схватилась за свою левую ладонь до посинения. Этот день, этот момент, она будет помнить очень ярко и чётко… и возможно это станеть её кошмаром…
□__________●__________□
Наконец-то карета остановилась около страшного и почти разрушенного приюта. Везде было грязно на территории, дети кидали друг другу камни и дрались за мусор. Кто-то был спокойным и прятался.
??? : «Мы приехали маленькая леди. Вам помочь отнести багаж?»
Гарри: «Если можно, пожалуйста.»
Когда девочка вышла из кареты, она внимательно осмотрела здание и ворота. Девочка прищурилась от название, в ней было что-то такое знакомое но и отдельно близкое, что было странным. Приют носил название: «Приют Вула». Что-то внутри девочки подсказывало что ей лучше быть очень осторожней. Хотя и без интуиции понятно что ей лучше бы быть осторожней. Почти никто не обращал на них внимание, разве что любопытные и внимательные дети. Гарри и в правду выглядела необычно. У неё были зелёные яркие глаза, круглые очки на носу и тёмные волосы заканчивая темно-коричневыми на кончиках, а волосы были короткими, но можно было собрать из неё конский короткий хвост. Шрам на лбу в виде природной молнии/грозы, что можно было увидеть во время страшной серой погоды. Некоторые мальчики смеялись над образом девочки и даже думали к ней приблизиться, но Гарри игнорировала их и даже посылала что было необычно для взрослого мужчины сзади неё. Оба подошли к двери и открыли его, открывая им самый отвратительный зал который можно было с трудом назвать столовой. Они поднялись на второй этаж и наконец-то встретились с воспитательницей.
Воспитательница: «Очередная мелкая крыса в захолустье? Тц… нам будто и других мало.»
Гарри проигнорировала её оскорбление, и дальше смотрела ей в глаза.
Воспитательница: «Ещё и зыркает вы поглядите! Слушай сюда соплячка, это уже не твой тот самый любимый дом где ты можешь устанавливать свои правила. Помни что здесь закон в этом здании, это я! Если ты не будешь следовать правилам этого приюта, то я без колебаний могу тебя выгнать отсюда! Я ясно выражаюс?»
Гарри: «Конечно мадам.»
Женщина просто усмехнулась над девочкой, будто она явно дала понять что она здесь самая главная. Она провела их обоих в самый верх здании и это оказался этаж ниже чердака. Она показала им комнату и объяснила кто в этой комнате живёт. Мужчина поклонился девочке и быстро убежал со здание как мог, унося прочь свои ноги. Воспитательница которой узнали её имя; "Миссис Коул"– лишь покачала головой и дальше показывала, рассказывала как и что устроено. А Гарри пришлось не отставать, багаж был тяжёлым хоть их и две.
М.Коул: «Слушай сюда спиногрыз! Я говорю это в первый и последний раз, чтобы не творили твоя соседка по комнате это будут твои проблемы. В приют возвращайся в 8 вечера не поздно, завтрак, обед и ужин приходи вовремя! И третье; старайся быть сильнее! Знай, я не буду тебе помогать, даже если попросишь! Ты меня поняла?»
Гарри: «Да миссис Коул.»
М.Коул: «Отлично, хоть не тупая.»
Она сразу постучала в дверь и открыла его. Она быстро зашла в комнату и осмотрелась, её взгляд остановился прямо на девочку, которая сидела на кровати и читала книгу… что удивительно было ей в первый раз. Девочка которая читала книгу подняла взгляд. У неё тоже были тёмные волосы а размер доходил ниже плеч, а кончики заканчивались тёмно-синего цвета. А тёмные глаза будто готовые смотреть на тебя прямо в душу, посмотрела перед собой с раздражение на лице.
М.Коул: «Тэмми, знакомся! Это твоя новая соседка по комнате.»
•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅
•○○○Продолжение следует●●●
╚════▣◎▣════╝
А/Н: Хм... и как тебе на данный момент живётся?
Гарри: Нормально, не смотря на тот что мне пришлось поначалу терпеть издевательства от отца, пртом от окружающих а после увидеть смерть... причём в конце ужасно грязный. Так и ещё отвратительное отношение от М.Коул, так ещё-‐
А/Н: Ок поняли! Встретимся в следующей главе! Предупреждаю! Обновление очень медленные! Не забудьте оставить комментарий!
#tomarry#harrytom#harry potter x tom riddle#fem!harry potter#fem!tom riddle#fem!tomarry#fem!reader#oc#Fem!reader x fem!Tom Riddle#fem!harry james potter#harry potter#tom riddle
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f!tomarry from Shiver, Lustre, Skin by @monsieurclavier because I am head over heels obsessed
#tomarry#harry potter#tomarrymort#hp fanart#fem!tomarry#female tom riddle#female harry potter#but if you haven't read this fic yet gogogo#the amount of times i had to walk away from my phone because i was dying lol
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