Theres a major lack of nsfw alphabets for the twst characters.. so i decided to make my own!
Feel free to use this post as a reference for your own writing, i know nsfw/sfw alphabets used to help me write certain characters (`･ω･´)ゞ
If you want a certain character next u can request it! not doing a specific order, only doing 18+ chars though.
a/n: not proof read, sorry for any grammer mistakes or just bad english (╥﹏╥) Also might be ooc. This is just how i view Leona. Apologies if the writing honestly sucks, its been a few months since i've last had time to write (also notice how my post layouts are getting prettier and better? im improving heh.)
nsfw, minors do not interact.
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
He's very attentive to your needs, buutt… he would make ruggie get whatever u need or want wether it be a bottle of water or a towel. Can you blame him though, he wants to stay in bed and cuddle you. even if you're both sweaty and sticky. i mean he would also stay in bed even if you get out, i imagine he gets very tired and sluggish after sex.
But if you insist he shower/bathe with you, who is he to refuse. Would prefer bathing over showering tho, especially if it means ur back will be pressed tight against his chest, he seems like the kind of guy to find comfort in skin to skin contact.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
His favorite part of himself are his arms, the way he can hold you down, manhandle you when you act all bratty. The way you flutter around his cock when he flexes them and you notice, he loves all of it.
His favorite part on you is either your belly or your thighs, he cant choose. He especially loves it if your belly is a little (or alot) pudgy, he loves kneading the flesh, feeling the softness of your skin. He also loves biting and kissing your thighs and belly, i can definitely see him being a chubby enjoyer (im saying this for me tbh…)
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
His favorite place to cum on you is your stomach and thighs, but if you let him he'd definitely cum inside of your pretty tight hole.. He loves making a mess of you, and in you.
His cum is a little thick and sticky, tastes quite bitter too. He also cums, alot. Breederballs™
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
He would never admit this himself, but.. getting his tail pulled or tugged at gets him so hard. Do it enough and he even cums. This'll most likely be the only time you see him so.. submissive. All that can leave his mouth while u do it are pathetic moans and whimpers. You are never allowed to speak of it afterwards though, he'd get so embarrased.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
He has alot of experience, has probably slept with one of his servants back home, or has had some one night stands. He DEFINITELY knows what he's doing, he pays attention so well and learn what you like and dislike.
I don't imagine he was very good with his hands or mouth before he met you, he seems like an entitled prince, just laying back as his former partners did all the work.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
mentioned here!
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Its a mix of both, sometimes he's extremely focused on pleasing you, on holding back even. But other times he can be quite playful, tickling you and even occassionally cracking a joke.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
im fully convinced he has a full on forest down there, he doesnt bother to shave or trim. (just how i like it..) But if his herbivore says something about it he's trim it for you, definitely wouldnt say something to you if u have a full bush tho.. he likes you hairy. The carpest do match the drapes, though i imagine his pubes are a slightly darker brown then his hair is, very messy too. (i have to say, he has a happy trail.)
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
When in the moment, he can be very into it. he can be very romantic when he feels like it, your first time with him was romantic atleast. He focuses on you, your facial expressions and how your body reacts to him and what he does. He prefers to make you cum atleast one more them then he does.
On some days when he's especially pissed off he can be pretty selfish, its not that he doesnt care about your needs all of the sudden, its just he focuses a bit more on his own.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
He doesnt masterbate alot, not when he has you atleast. If really necessery he'll whack one out quickly, mostly when he wants to nap but that pesky little (big) thing in his pants is keeping him up. When he misses you and you've been away for a few days he can't help but masterbate with his nose pressed against your hoodie, taking in your scent.
I also cant see him masterbating alot even before you, maybe once a week. I can imagine he likes doing it with a tighter grip and slow movements, if the mood strikes him maybe fast and rough.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Breeding kink, what more do i say. Its a popular headcanon for a reason, though i dont imagine he'd actually want kids. i think its more of a claiming thing. He also loves biting you, marking you. so people know you're taken, that you're his. A bit of a master kink, hell he even gets turned on when you call him "my king". Would definitely be into roleplay too, him as your master and you as his servant, maybe even a role reversal..
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
his favorite places to do it are definitely his bed and the botanical gardens. The privacy of his bedroom allows you both to be perfectly comfortable and be as loud as possible(i mean.. what are his dorm members gonna do about it..) but he definitely likes it best in the botanical gardens, its his favorite nap spot afterall. He enjoys how its in public but not to out in the open, he gets kinda turned on by the thought of getting caught with you. It feeds his pride for sure.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
smelling his scent on you, it gets him going crazy. Especially because, if he can smell it so can others. It gives him a sense of satisfaction, others know you're his and only his. I also mentioned earlier how he gets easily turned on by getting called "my king" by you, yah. i stand by that. It gets him so hard.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Threesomes, he wouldn't willingly have a threesome. He doesn't like sharing you, you're his and his alone (unless you're in a consensual poly relationship with him and another. He just doesnt want to share you with someone you arent officially dating) I also dont think he's willing to cuck. He wouldnt want to do anything that includes another person.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
He prefers receiving so he can lay back and enjoy the view of his cock stuffed in your mouth, it has to be his 2nd favorite sight. He doesn't mind giving though, he loves it but he still prefers to receive.
He's lazy and sloppy when giving, very good at it though. He has a bit of a barbed tongue, so it felt a little odd at first when he first gave u oral. But its definitely a sensation you can get used to. one of the kings of oral if u ask me. He's best at giving when you sit on his face! do it! he loves it.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Depends completely, most of the time he's slow but rough. Definitely also sensual alot of the time. But when he's feeling particularly jealous and possessive (after u talk to a certain lizard for a while..) He'd definitely be more fast and rough, his hips snapping hard and fast against yours.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
He quite likes them, he'd probably prefer taking his time with you but wouldnt deny you if you asked for it. He loves it when you come up to him during classes and drag him off to a closet of sorts or an empty classroom just for you to beg him to fuck you.
I dont think they happen very often but it depends on your sex drive, he isnt quick to come up to you and drag you away to a secluded area but that doesnt mean he doesnt! After seeing you talk to malleus and standing to close to him he has to put you in your place.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
People might disagree but… i personally think he's a bit vanilla.. definitely game to experiment but i still think he prefers more vanilla stuff. Most i can see him use is a vibrator on you and maybe handcuffs when he's in rut, but not always. He loves how you scratch up his back.
He does love taking risks though, wether its going at it in the botanical gardens or him sneakily teasing you under the table in class. He loves the faces you make when you try to stay as quiet as possible. He also kind of wants someone to catch you guys, he wants people to know that you're his and his alone.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
he can usually last up to 2 rounds, he does have to take a little break between rounds though. When you ride him he can last even longer, most he can handle is 4 rounds.
When he's in rut though he'll go for as long as his body lets him. He cant get enough of you then.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
He doesnt own alot of them, maybe a cock ring here and there and a pocket pussy he hasnt used since he got with you. he doesn't see the point in toys if he has you, though he doesnt mind using the ones you own.
if he's feeling particularly lazy he'll ask you to fuck yourself with one of your dildos or vibrators for him, it own last so long though. Watching you squirm and listening to you moan like that
he's not opposed to using toys on himself, but i dont think he'd do it on his own. and probably only if you beg him to, he's not quick to be submissive.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
oh he teases you so much.. He can also be so unfair, edging you, making you beg for it. This happens whenever he's feeling more dominant, or just whenever he's feeling kinda mean.. so nearly always.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Most of the time he's pretty quiet, a few groans and grunts here and there. He WILL say the most dirtiest things ever in the blundest way possible, especially while you ride him. Will tease, degrade and praise you.
It's completely different while he's in rut tho. His usual low groans will turn into moans and whimpers, he's just so sensitive and you feel so nice around him.. not like he can help it!
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
He gets so turned on by your scent, especially when its mixed with his own. Whenever he masterbates on his own he buries his face in your hoodie or the pillow you sleep on, sometimes even wraps your panties around his cock to get your scent on him.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
oh he BIIIGGGG. Very well hung, big balls too. I'd say he's about 7.5 inch soft and 8 inch hard, not much of a grower he's more of a shower. Not only is he big length wise but he's also pretty thick, with barbs, goodluck taking him on a lazy morning without much prep.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
I feel like it's pretty average or even a little below average, idc what anyone says. But i also feel like it'll match yours, definitely won't say no to you if you come up to him all needy and stuff.
He just naps to much to be thinking about stuff like that. His drive is definitely higher the second he gets into rut though. Also after a good spelldrive game, he deserves a reward for good game does he not?
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
If it were up to him, he'd fall asleep almost immediately. But he obviously has to take care of his beloved so he stays up a bit longer to make sure you're okay, happy and satisfied. Right after that he'd be snoring away, holding you close to him.
a/n: i wrote it all randomly.. i started losing my motivation at certain ones and it might also be ooc. I havent actually written anything like headcanons or fanfics since may so im a little rusty, i apologize!
synopsis. a lesson on amortentia right before valentine’s day sets off an unfortunate chain of events once you realize tom riddle had set his sights on you.
𑣲 content. MDNI, fem!reader (she/her pronouns), smut, dubcon/noncon (you’re under the influence of amortentia), oral (fem!recieving), p in v at the end, drugging aka use of love potions, slughorn is lowkey a scheming mf lmfao, you reject tom, it’s love day!!, reader lives on white chocolate (cause i do lol), she also appreciates tom’s pretty face, tom riddle is and will always be his mother’s son, slight homophobic themes (era accurate), you’re very woke for the day and age (you’re a good person with morals), kinda angsty (bad ending? you still get dicked down on the floor of the astronomy tower during a storm though), virginity loss, on the nose religious themes.
𑣲 word count. 13.9k (sorry)
𑣲 author’s note. this just in folks: tom riddle takes advantage of local chocolate lover on valentine’s day. my first long fic with smut eek i’m nervous! i hope you guys like it and happy hearts day dearests <3 based on this headcanon i wrote ;) also, new graphics for long fics. i’m in need of a little something different. and i may or may not have given reader’s bsf the same name as my fav character from my little pony… i pull the strings here (rubs hands together like a mischievous fly). not proofread. i suck at writing smut so bear with me if it isn’t tasteful. finally finished, i will go devour banana pudding now. | lordlist.
Potions class had started as it always did in Professor Slughorn’s dungeon — humid air heavy with the scent of herbs and simmering cauldrons, glass clinking softly as students returned with their ingredients from the storeroom. The room felt warm and sticky, as usual, from all the steam curling towards the ceiling. It clung to your robes and on your hair, making a sheen of sweat appear on your skin before class had even begun.
Outside remained a similar gloom as February rain tapped faintly against the windows of the castle, the sky a familiar sight of grey as if foreshadowing a coming storm. And the day after tomorrow would be Valentine’s Day — a muggle holiday that had somehow infected the wizarding world enough for Professor Slughorn to make a spectacle of it.
A wise choice? No.
One that would prove to have interesting outcomes right before Valentine’s Day? Yes. And Horace Slughorn liked to see results.
“Now, now,” Slughorn drew the attention of students just walking in with barely concealed excitement. “A special lesson, just in time for the season of romance! Today, we’ll be studying the most powerful love potion—,” a ripple of giggles spread across the room, “—in existence,” he finished with a grin.
“Purely academic, of course,” Slughorn had declared, lip twitching along with his mustache in delight as he presented the shimmering contents of his cauldron he had prepared himself before the beginning of class. “One must understand the theory of such things in order to defend against them. Amortentia, my dears — the most powerful love potion in existence. Banned to distribute in Hogwarts, naturally, but perfectly permissible to brew under supervision according to the curriculum.”
As if that was a plausible excuse.
The potion glimmered like liquid mother-of-pearl on the wooden workbench, spirals rising from it in hypnotic coils. One by one, the students (mostly consisting of girls) leaned over to inhale, unable to help but be pulled in — as was the nature of the brew. Amortentia carried a different scent to each person. You watched some of your classmates continue to crowd around it eagerly, faces flushing, expressions turning curious. Some laughed whilst some went oddly quiet in consideration.
You didn’t think much of it personally, staying in your seat, wafts of clean linen and chocolate drifting in your direction. Love potions were rather grotesque things — manufactured obsession masquerading as affection. There was something fundamentally wrong about them, no matter how pretty they looked or how good they smelled. You still felt it was wrong that they weren’t outlawed, or that they were sold in shops at all, making them accessible to the public.
Knowing how reckless some teenagers were and how insidious the minds of some worked, it made itself an easy solution in order to prey on the vulnerable. It was — “naturally” — a recipe for disaster.
Completely and utterly barbaric, in your opinion.
Now, the classroom buzzed with chatter and the scrape of ladles against cauldrons as students got to work. Your peers talked over one another, arguing over measurements or comparing notes in low voices.
The potions professor wandered around the room, observing each student at work and complimenting a few on his way through. His waistcoat strained over his stomach as he waddled between tables. “Observe the pearlescent sheen — yes, exactly! That’s what we’re aiming for. And the steam should rise in spirals. Spirals, Mister Avery, not— oh dear.”
You wiped your hands on a cloth and leaned over your own brew. The cauldron in front of you shimmered faintly, the surface of the Amortentia swirling with a soft, luminous glow. It was beautiful in a way that made your skin crawl. You leaned in closer despite yourself. The steam brushed your face, warm and sweet with notes you were very pleased with.
Decadent and creamy white chocolate, the scent of cleanliness, your favorite perfume, sugar, and obviously more sugar. Your mouth curved slightly, both in satisfaction at your successful potion making skills and amusement at the predictability. You liked simple comforts. You liked things that made you feel safe.
You swallowed and straightened at the insidious prospect of that.
“I bet you smell a candy shop,” your best friend, Cadence, murmured from where she stood beside you, leaning over your shoulder.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“I’m saying,” she smirked, “that anyone who ends up giving you sweets may have a chance,” she sang.
“Or they could try a conversation,” you shot back lightly, throwing Cadence an unimpressed look and an arch of the brow.
“Ah, yes. Conversation. How revolutionary.”
You rolled your eyes. Around you, students were murmuring and nudging one another. Giggles broke out near the Hufflepuffs. A Ravenclaw boy turned pink to the ears as he stirred quietly. Even a few Slytherins were smirking more than usual as they hovered close near their cauldrons, unable to resist the temptations. No one seemed particularly concerned about the fact that what they were brewing was so dangerous that it was prohibited to use inside of these walls. There were different types of love potions, but Amortentia was the most potent.
“Honestly,” muttered a flushed Gryffindor, stubbornly, in hearing range. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she peered into her cauldron, “what possessed him to teach this now? It’s practically Valentine’s.”
What possessed him indeed. Slughorn was clearly having way too much fun with this lesson, doing rounds and asking each student what they smelled, smiling knowingly at the flustered ones who stumbled over their words as if this all had been a ploy, a gentle nudge to some to confront their feelings for a special someone right before the holiday of love — which he would deny and deem it was for research purposes only, of course.
“I think it’s romantic,” the Gryffindor girl’s seat mate sighed almost dreamily.
You almost snorted. Romantic wasn’t the word you would’ve chosen. Your potion reached completion faster than you expected. You glanced up, searching for Slughorn to signal that you were finished. The man was currently bent over another station, fussing over someone’s “almost adequate” consistency before going to the next batch, circling like a pleased bee.
Your gaze wandered mindlessly now that you were done with your brew, and you knew it’d be a while before Slughorn made his way over here. So, you slowly dragged your eyes over the students around you before they collided directly with another’s.
Across the room, through rising steam and flickering torchlight, a boy stood at his station. His sleeves were neatly rolled to his forearms, revealing pale skin and long, steady fingers guiding the ladle through his potion. His Slytherin tie was perfectly knotted, robes immaculate as always. There wasn’t a single fleck of ingredient out of place near him. Even here, in the damp heat of the dungeon, he looked composed — untouched by the chaos around him.
And he was staring at you.
Tom Riddle was staring at you.
His expression was calm, almost blank, a void that sent shivers down your spine. It was unlike any expression you’ve ever seen him make, completely unnatural on a face as handsome as his — not that you’ve watched him much. His eyes did not falter even when you met his unblinking gaze, not flustered whatsoever at being caught gawking so noticeably.
Riddle didn’t look away. The steam rose between you like a thin veil and still — he held your gaze.
The noise of the classroom seemed to dull, your pulse stuttering. For a moment, you forget to breathe, his dead stare like a hand on your throat.
This look wasn’t one of interest in the way other boys sometimes looked at girls. There was something unnerving there unlike the easy charm he wore so well, the one that he showed professors and students alike.
This felt almost… predatory.
Creepy.
Your fingers tightened and whitened around the edge of your desk, body frozen from the uneasiness that washed over you. Then, just as quickly, his gaze flicked away. Riddle adjusted the flame beneath his cauldron with a smooth, unwavering movement as if he’d merely been lost in thought, face now taut in concentration.
Heat rushed to your cheeks, though you weren’t sure why.
He probably zoned out, you told yourself. People stare without realizing it. It doesn’t mean anything, right? Why would he be looking at you? It was easy to drift in a class like this. And you had never spoken more than a passing word to him. You weren’t one of the girls vying for his attention. You didn’t trail after him in corridors or sigh when he walked into a room.
If anything, you made a point not to. You barely paid him mind beyond the general awareness everyone had of him. It was impossible not to at least notice someone like him. Riddle was top of every class. Professors adored him. Students either worshipped him or resented him for numerous reasons.
And yes — he was handsome. Painfully so. Anyone with functioning eyes could see that. But admiration from afar was one thing; interest was another. You preferred to know someone before you decided how you felt about them.
Even if he had dark hair that fell just slightly yet perfectly over his forehead. Blessed with sharp, aristocratic cheekbones and tiny beauty marks on pale skin that added to his devilish looks. Pink lips that seemed permanently on the verge of a polite, measured smirk that made girls swoon. Riddle was the kind of boy that had them whispering and preening and inventing foolish excuses just to brush arms with him in corridors.
But at that moment, he looked like he was out for your blood. Like you were nothing more than an animal in the wild and he was the hunter, pinning his sights on you.
You had better things to think about. So, you forced your attention back to your station, exhaling slowly and capping the flame beneath your cauldron. You willed your shoulders to relax with the release of breath before you frowned faintly to yourself.
You wondered, annoyingly, how long he had been staring before you had even noticed.
Across the room, Professor Slughorn beamed, hovering near Riddle like always.
“Splendid, Tom! Simply splendid. Textbook perfection. A natural talent, as always. Twenty points to Slytherin!”
Different reactions swept the room — admiration and heart eyes from some, irritation and jealousy from others. Riddle only inclined his head modestly, unbothered by all the attention. “Thank you, sir.”
His voice was smooth, distinct from everyone and anyone else’s, and positively heart throbbing in itself. You risked another glance at Riddle, just to reassure yourself that you’d been mistaken.
He was no longer looking at you, thankfully. Slughorn stood at his side while Riddle wore that soft smile that made people melt. He nodded his head at precisely the right moments, listening attentively as the professor praised the clarity of his brew of Amortentia, how it was the perfect viscosity and shade. He didn’t even seem all that delighted, more so expectant like he was used to it and confidently knew he would’ve had the best one in the room before walking in; like clockwork.
Nothing about his demeanor suggested he had just been staring at you like he wanted to devour you alive. You felt faintly foolish for thinking like that. Perhaps, you hadn’t seen him properly? After all, the abundant amount of steam in the room did make it rather difficult.
Lost in your thoughts, you briefly think about what Riddle must have smelled. Tom Riddle had never shown any interest in dating anyone in all his time at Hogwarts, much to the dismay of many pretty girls. Maybe he had a muggle girlfriend outside of school?
You remembered, faintly, a memory from a few months ago.
A girl you knew, Wendy, had asked him out and like always, he politely let her down. He had declined each and every love confession he had ever received with courtesy. And yet, people still had the audacity to be slighted, as if they were entitled to him and his feelings.
She had regaled to you and a few other girls the story in the library. You were all supposed to be studying, but the topic eventually drifted, like always — to boys.
“And then he said, “Thank you, but I’m afraid I’m occupied.” Occupied with what?!” Wendy scoffed, clearly hurt that she decided it’d be better to gossip badly about Riddle, red in the face.
“Honestly, he acts like he’s above everyone. It’s exhausting. And not natural.” Then, her eyes widened in realization. “You don’t think he’s… you know?”
It had bothered you, what she said.
You don’t know why to this day. Maybe it’s because you imagined a boy talking about you like that just because you didn’t feel the same way, and how it wouldn’t sit right with you, how it wouldn’t be fair for them to speculate. That you shouldn’t be forced to like specific people because that’s what was socially acceptable.
So, you defended him without thought.
“Or maybe he just doesn’t want to go out with you specifically,” you mutter, flipping a page.
Three heads turned toward you.
“That’s not the point,” Wendy scoffed, offended by your words but trying not to show it. “It’s rude. He acts like no one’s good enough for him.”
“Or,” you started, “he isn’t obligated to entertain you.”
“You defending Riddle now?” A familiar voice asked in an amused tone after a moment of silence — your best friend, you realized, when looking up from your book at last.
“I’m just saying, you can’t call someone arrogant for having boundaries.”
“We’re just talking,” another one of them snapped, some girl you didn’t know the name of to this day.
“So talk,” you replied calmly. “Just don’t act like he owes you his attention.”
A few of them exchanged glances. One shrugged. Then, the conversation shifted.
You shook your head faintly, dismissing your thoughts. It wasn’t your concern.
The bell chimed faintly in the corridor beyond the door just in time — five minutes to the end of class. Slughorn clapped his hands together to get everyone’s attention. “Time, my dears! Cap your potions, label them, and leave them on this table right here. And remember — no sneaking a sample. I’ll know.”
That resulted in a few groans and bits of laughter.
Students began tidying their stations, including you — corking bottles and wiping spills. Slughorn’s back turned as he hurried to inspect a few remaining students brews of the love potion. In the chaos — with robes swishing, chairs scraping against the floor, chatter rising — no one paid attention to Tom Riddle.
His back was angled toward the class, body shielding his cauldron from view. Slughorn was still preoccupied, none the wiser.
Tom moved with hurried precision, covered by the ruckus and cluster of students. One hand slipped into the inner pocket of his robes. The other lifted his ladle. A small, glass vial appeared between his deft fingers. He tilted the utensil ever so slightly and a thin ribbon of pearlescent liquid slid into the container. Not enough to be obvious and change the level in the cauldron, the right amount for him to take.
He corked it carefully and quietly before it vanished into his robes. By the time Slughorn turned back around, Tom busied himself with packing up his things unhurriedly; entirely innocent. He gathered his books neatly, cleaned up his area with a flick of his yew wand, and stood waiting for dismissal like the exemplary student everyone believed him to be — even bidding a polite farewell to the Professor like he does at the end of every class, receiving an oblivious smile from the man in return.
Slughorn clearly did not know.
Soon enough, you’re next to step out into the corridor with your friends.
As you walked with them, curling a strand of hair behind your ear whilst complaining about your next class — behind you, footsteps followed at a distance.
Tom Riddle was staring at you again.
And you walked away, unaware.
Valentine’s Day arrived like a fever spreading inside Hogwarts.
The dormitory had been awake before dawn. You awoke to whispers around you and the rustle of tissue paper. The sharp, sweet scent of perfume clouded the air. Ribbons were tied, taken down, and then retied into hair to perfection. Girls were already sitting cross-legged on their beds in silk nightgowns and perfectly brushed hair, opening velvet boxes and parcels tied in satin ribbon. One girl squealed while another flushed and tried to pretend she hadn’t been waiting for this day all week when opening her package. Someone even shrieked when an owl tapped the window with a parcel of sugared candies.
You rolled onto your back with a sigh, lying still for a moment, staring up at the canopy above your bed as you listened to the excitement around you.
It wasn’t that you cared about today or longed for a boy. It was your decision, countless times, to not have a boyfriend. And you wouldn’t want just any boy approaching you today with trembling hands and a rehearsed declaration of love. In fact, the thought of a public decree made your stomach tighten since you would have to gently decline — and that was humiliating enough for one party. You had no desire in entertaining feelings you did not share like some of your acquaintances.
Still.
It would have been… nice. To be chosen.
You smiled when appropriate as other girls showed off their Valentine’s gifts; a small, traitorous pang in your chest. Ridiculous. You weren’t interested in anyone. You shook it off, rising from the mattress to wash up in the restroom and get dressed for classes that day.
Your uniform was pristine like always, white blouse pressed and colored tie straightened. You smoothed your skirt over your thighs, stockings reaching just below the knee, shoes polished. You brushed your hair until it shone and left it down before fastening your cloak. You dabbed a faint touch of your everyday perfume on your wrists because for you, it was just another day.
When you made your way into the common room, you saw girls clutching bouquets of all different types of colors and chocolates wrapped in boxes.
The corridors were no different, buzzing like a beehive. And by the time you reached the staircases, the castle was alive more than it has ever been — even during the Christmas holidays. Enchanted cupids flitted about and abundant laughter echoed against the stone walls of the castle.
You adjusted the strap of your satchel and eventually met up with your friends at your usual spot, walking towards the Great Hall together, their chatter echoing around you about the latest drama: who got what and from who or who hadn’t gotten anything and ended up splitting on today of all days. You tuned them out until a different name cut through the noise.
“Did you see him?” a pair of Slytherin girls hissed in hushed excitement as you passed. “With a whole bouquet of flowers, I swear! And chocolates too — the expensive kind.”
“Who?”
“Tom Riddle.”
Your steps faltered before you could stop yourself.
The other girl gasped. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not! He was coming up from the dungeons. He had them transfigured so it wasn’t obvious, but I know what I saw.”
You didn’t turn your head. You kept walking before you could linger too long and appear obvious. You had no right to be curious. You barely spoke to him. And you most certainly were not one of the girls who trailed after him like moths to a flame.
Tom Riddle with roses.
With chocolates.
It was almost absurd.
It sounded absurd.
You truly hadn’t meant to listen, truly. Riddle had never shown interest in anyone publicly. He seemed the private type and further more, was single to the point he had never even been rumored to have dated anyone because everyone would know it to be untrue in a heartbeat. But, perhaps he did have someone this entire time. Someone worth keeping a secret of.
You found, to your irritation, that you were curious. It must be someone in school, then.
But who? Who had finally stolen his heart and had the Tom Riddle so enamored?
The Great Hall doors opened to an alive spectacle of owls swooping low through the high windows and dropping parcels into waiting hands, charmed doves fluttering between floating hearts that drifted lazily beneath the enchanted ceiling which had been charmed to a pale pink sunrise with pearly light despite the real one outside being dull and grey like it had been for the last few days, anticipating a storm.
The House tables were louder than usual, scattered with unwrapped sweets and floral arrangements that clashed with everything else in a nearby vicinity.
You scanned the Slytherin table without meaning to.
Riddle wasn’t there.
You exhaled harshly through your nose, annoyed with yourself for searching.
You took your usual place at your table — the same bit of bench you had claimed since first year with your friend group, the same place anyone could find you in the mornings. Predictable. Safe. Like everything you choose. You spooned whipped cream onto your waffles, adding sliced strawberries and a drizzle of syrup on them.
Cadence lightly nudged you with her elbow, a mischievous gleam in her eye. “If someone asks you to be their Valentine today — hypothetically — you’re saying yes, aren’t you?”
“I would hypothetically decline,” you retort dryly, cutting through your waffle.
“How cruel you are to every boy who would be lucky to have you.”
You lifted an unimpressed brow. “I have standards.”
She laughed. “You’ll end up alone at this rate.”
“I’m not afraid of being alone.”
That much was true.
You were about to take your first bite when a shadow fell across your plate.
You looked up, pulse jumping.
A Slytherin boy stood there. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him before. Cute, but not your type. And he looked… nervous. His fingers flexed at his sides with a kind of strained urgency. For a fleeting, mortifying second, you imagined him clearing his throat and announcing — loudly — that he would be honored if you would accompany him today. In front of all these people.
Your heart gave one uncomfortable thud.
Please don’t let him do this here.
“Yes?” you asked slowly, lips drawn in a tight line, already preparing the polite apology on your tongue.
He swallowed. “Er— sorry to interrupt.”
“It’s fine,” you said, your fork hovering midair, frozen like a statue as you wait for the inevitable.
“Professor Slughorn would like to see you.”
Relief washed over you instantly, your features softening and shoulders relaxing. Thankfully, it wasn’t a love confession. Still, your brows knit together. “Now?”
“Yes. In the courtyard.”
You glanced instinctively towards the staff table. Slughorn wasn’t there. Though, a flicker of doubt continued to brush against your mind.
“What for?” you asked, turning your head back to the boy.
He hesitated. “I-I don’t know. He didn’t say.”
Your friend chimed in. “That’s odd.”
You agreed.
Still, there was no obvious reason to refuse. You hadn’t done anything wrong. And if it were truly important, you couldn’t very well ignore it. Maybe it was about schoolwork. You set your fork down with visible reluctance, eyeing your plate with mild mourning and a pout. The whipped cream was already softening into the waffle, syrup pooling at the edges.
A waste.
“If I’m not back in ten minutes, eat that,” you told your friend, gesturing with a tilt of your chin.
“So selfless,” one of them replied solemnly.
“I know.”
You rose, smoothing your skirt, adjusting your cloak over your shoulders before leaning down to grab your bag from the wooden seat and hook it around your shoulder. The boy stepped aside at once to let you pass, relief evident in his posture — as if he had been afraid you might refuse. Though, you can’t imagine what was so frightening about Slughorn that made him tremble so.
The corridors beyond the Great Hall were quieter now, the morning frenzy thinning out as you stepped out into them.
Chatter faded behind you, replaced by the echo of your own footsteps against the stone hallways of the castle. Light filtered through the high windows as best it could with dark skies as you walked further down. When you made your way to the courtyard however, your steps slowed at the sight that greeted you.
You stepped through the arched doorway into the open space. The cold bit at you at once, stealing the warmth from your cheeks. The fountain at the center trickled faintly as water spilled over marble into its basin. Grey clouds sagged overhead, heavy with unshed rain, the stones beneath your shoes damp.
It was completely vacant.
There was always a student or two loitering around, but now, it was unnaturally silent. Not like the peaceful kind you preferred. And there was no Professor Slughorn bustling about. You frowned, uneasiness coiled low in your stomach and sliding beneath your ribs. The courtyard was never empty — even on a day like this.
You shifted your satchel higher on your shoulder, glancing toward the archways as if the professor might appear from behind a column.
You found yourself almost turning back. For reasons you couldn’t explain, you wished you were still at your table in the Great Hall, surrounded by your friends, scarfing down sugary waffles. Thunder clapped overhead like a bad omen.
“I’m glad you came.”
You startled violently despite yourself, breath catching, spinning around too quickly. It unsettled you more than you cared to admit that you hadn’t heard him approach at all.
That voice was unmistakable.
Tom Riddle stood a few paces behind you as though he had always been there. Your heart leapt traitorously in your chest.
Riddle looked striking and flawless as always. Dark hair combed neatly with a curl falling deliberately over his forehead. His Slytherin tie was perfectly knotted, robes falling straight and sharp along his lean, slightly muscular frame. The faintest flush from the cold touched his pale skin, but he did not seem to feel it.
In one hand, he held a box of chocolates wrapped in ribbon. In the other — a bouquet.
Your favorite flowers.
Your breath caught.
It could be coincidence, you told yourself. Flowers were flowers. Anyone could like them. Perhaps he had chosen them at random. Perhaps he was waiting for someone else and you had merely wandered into the scene by accident. Your mind scrambled for reasons because you had a feeling this situation was headed a certain direction that you weren’t sure how to deal with.
Riddle held your gaze steadily, as if he could see each frantic thought as it passed through you.
“I’m waiting for Professor Slughorn,” you said too quickly, the words tumbling out before he asked anything. “He sent for me.”
Why were you explaining yourself?
You avoided his eyes, studying instead the collar of his robe, the way his fingers curved around the base of the bouquet. You felt awkward and absurdly aware of how alone you were with him. Riddle’s gaze rested on you, assessing. There was something faintly amused in the curve of his mouth — and not the warm kind. More like, he knew something you didn’t.
“I’m afraid,” he started gently, “that Professor Slughorn will not be joining you.”
The words prickled at your skin like a bite.
You blinked, looking up at that.
“What?”
“I asked Nott to fetch you.” He tilted his head slightly like he had a habit of doing, studying your reaction with dark brown eyes, ones that felt too intense on you. “I wanted a moment alone.”
For a second, you could only stare at him.
“You lied?” The accusation left you before you could soften it.
Riddle did not falter. If anything, that faint amusement deepened on his gorgeous features, dark and unfairly perfect brows lifting a fraction. “Would you have come if I had asked you myself?”
Your lips parted automatically, ready to retort with something sharp or clever, that he didn’t need deception or to intimidate someone enough to do his bidding — but the truth remained stuck in your throat.
Because no. You wouldn’t have.
You didn’t know him. Not really. You had exchanged perhaps a handful of words in passing. If Tom Riddle had approached you openly in the Great Hall, with half the school watching, you would have declined out of instinct alone.
You pressed your lips together in defeat.
Riddle’s smirk deepened with satisfaction.
“I thought not,” he murmured. He stepped closer, not enough to invade your space, but enough that you could feel his intensity.
Then, “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said suddenly.
It wasn’t a stammering confession you had braced yourself for from some nervous boy. His voice was steady, like a statement rather than a request. He extended the bouquet and chocolates toward you, waiting.
The gesture was immaculate, private, considerate. Exactly the sort of confession you would have preferred without a spectacle or an audience.
The courtyard felt even quieter. Somehow, you couldn’t even hear the single chirp of a bird.
You were acutely aware of the space between you. The way Riddle’s eyes did not leave your face, as if he was deciphering your every thought just from your expressions like how a snake would assess its meal before lunging. He seemed entirely certain of himself.
Then, it hits you that he must have been the one to clear the courtyard. Of course. Who else could have that type of power? Your pulse thudded in your ears, heat creeping up your cheeks. He had orchestrated this entire thing.
And he had done everything right.
For a tiny moment, you imagined accepting. You imagined walking back into the castle at his side, flowers in your arms. You imagined the looks. Too many looks. Too many whispers. Because Tom Riddle was always being watched. Either out of admiration or envy. If you stepped into his orbit, you would not be permitted anonymity again. There would be jealous girls, speculation, and endless scrutiny from every direction. The resentment from those who had tried and failed to get close to him. Your life would no longer be quiet at school.
And beneath that practical reasoning, there was something else — the simple truth being that you did not know him.
And under that, the memory of that look in class — the way he had stared at you through the steam as if claiming something that did not yet belong to him.
And Tom Riddle did nothing without purpose.
So, why you?
You were not one of the girls who trailed after him in corridors. You didn’t blush when he entered a room. You didn’t whisper about him.
Perhaps… that was precisely why.
“Tom,” you began carefully, fingers tightening around your bag’s strap like a lifeline as you swallowed. “Riddle, I mean,” once you realized how familiar you sounded unintentionally. You noticed he straightened a little at that. “I-I’m sorry.”
And you truly meant it. But the next few words caught in your throat when you saw the flicker of the same expression from the dungeon — the one that had frozen you in place. His cold eyes sharpened with displeasure and something possessive. A chill shot down your spine. But, then it was gone, vanishing almost instantly — as if it’d never been there. The polite mask slid back into place so seamlessly that you almost doubted you had seen his other face at all.
“I can’t accept this,” you finished softly. “I didn’t know… I mean, we’ve never even—” You huffed, frustrated with yourself. “It wouldn’t be right.”
A silence so deafening stretched between you.
You couldn’t meet his eye. Riddle hadn’t moved at all from your peripheral. But then, he spoke at last, “I see...”
Surprisingly, he hadn’t looked embarrassed or wounded. There was not a hint of a tremor in his voice or a trace of bitterness — and somehow, it unsettled you more than pure anger might have.
“I appreciate your honesty.”
He sounded thoughtful. So, you found your shoulders loosening.
“I hope there aren’t any hard feelings,” you added carefully, brows furrowed.
“None,” he assured you with a flutter of his dark lashes, polite and unbothered as ever like the proper gentleman he was. Then, almost as an afterthought, Riddle lifted the box slightly to you. “At least take these.”
You hesitated.
“I know how fond you are of them,” he continued, tone mild. “It would be a shame to let them go to waste.”
Your brows drew together faintly. “How did you—”
He gave the smallest shrug. “It isn’t a secret.”
It wasn’t. You were rarely without something sugary in hand. Anyone observant enough could notice. And Tom Riddle was observant. You studied him one last time before slowly reaching out and accepting the chocolates, the edge of the box cool against your sweaty fingers.
“Thank you,” you said, offering a small, apologetic smile. “Truly.”
His gaze dipped briefly to your hand as it closed fully around the container of chocolates, a small smile on his lips.
“You’re welcome.”
“And… I am sorry,” you added once more for great measure.
Riddle smiled reassuringly. “There’s nothing to forgive.” Then, he adds with a tone that sounded innocently hopeful, “But, if you do happen to change your mind, I’ll be at the Astronomy Tower this evening. I hear the stars will be rather exceptionally beautiful tonight.”
The statement seemed so casual that it hadn’t even hit you that it’ll be storming all week, that the skies wouldn’t be visible for the next few days. But, you nodded anyway just to be nice. You had just rejected his feelings after all…
With a step back, hands folding neatly behind him, the bouquet remained there, hidden from your view. He inclined his head with quiet courtesy. You nodded in return, already turning, eager for the warmth and noise of the Hogwarts corridors. With each step away from him, your lungs seemed to fill more easily. You slipped the chocolates into your satchel and adjusted the strap over your shoulder. By the time you reached the archway, you had almost convinced yourself the entire encounter had been harmless. Unfortunate, perhaps — but civil.
You were lucky Riddle was so understanding.
As you walked off, behind you, Tom did not move. He watched you until the stone walls of the school swallowed you from sight as if he could still see you through them.
The polite expression dissolved the instant you disappeared. His jaw tightened, broad shoulders becoming rigid beneath his robes. And behind his back, his fingers tightened around the stems of the bouquet until his knuckles turned white. They bent and snapped under his unforgiving grip. The pretty flowers blackened at an unnatural pace right at the edges before gradually bleeding inward at an alarming speed. The delicate petals wilted, reduced to something lifeless and small.
Tom’s remained eerily calm other than that. A petal fell soundlessly, and he watched as it reached the wet stone at his feet.
He smiled.
Then, he threw the bouquet to the ground like dirt before turning, his cloak sweeping behind him.
Thankfully, the rest of the day passed by in a haze.
The castle’s Valentine’s fever broke slowly but surely. By afternoon, the romance had dulled. Very few couples still walked too close in the corridors, smiling and holding hands. Girls with broken hearts huddled with blotchy eyes while their friends stroked their hair and whispered assurances. The enchanted decor had long since tired themselves out.
You drifted through it, lost in your own head as your mind wouldn’t stop circling back to him.
Tom Riddle had wanted you.
It still felt crazy, but you knew it now. That in Potions, he must have smelled you.
“Are you even listening?” A friend hissed at you during Transfiguration, nudging your knee under the desk.
You blinked, snapping out of your daze, quill hovering uselessly above parchment, dripping ink from the tip in large blots and ruining your work. “What?”
She stared. “Professor Merrythought just asked you a question.”
Heat flared in your cheeks, eyes darting around the class and then apologetically to the Professor.
“Right. Sorry.” You forced your attention forward, ignoring the low ripple of snickers.
Your mind felt like it was moving through syrup, and you kept it all to yourself. In Arithmancy, you lost track of numbers you usually handled with ease. In History of Magic, you stared through Professor Binns as if he were smoke.
You had never truly noticed how many classes you shared with Tom Riddle before today. Now, it felt excessive. Potions, Transfiguration, Defense, Ancient Runes. He had always been there — but you had never catalogued the frequency of his presence until now. Riddle always sat with his back straight. His quill moved with elegant strokes as he took notes. He answered every question asked of him and was always correct.
And he did not look at you once.
Not even once.
A part of you bristled.
It bothered you more than if he had glared across the room because he was unbothered as ever. It was as if the courtyard had not happened. As if he had not offered you your favorite flowers and waited for your answer. Why ask if he did not care?
You caught yourself watching the side of his face during Transfiguration, tracing the sharp line of his cheekbone, the faint hollow beneath it, the way his long and skillful hands worked his wand. You noticed he liked to fidget with it a lot — running his fingers along the side, caressing, holding it delicately like it was an extension of himself. Riddle suddenly shifted slightly in his seat, and you looked away at once, heart pounding madly in your chest.
You should be grateful. This is what you wanted, you reminded yourself. You would have hated his scorn. You would have hated whispers and pointed stares. This was the better outcome. You didn’t want to be known as the girl who rejected Tom Riddle even when your chest tightened unpleasantly each time he gathered his books without so much as glancing your way.
So, why did it feel like something was terribly wrong?
By the time late afternoon crept in and you finished your classes for the day, you were already making your way to the Hogwarts library.
It was quieter than normal. Valentine’s Day had drained the castle of its usual studious population. Lamps glowed in warm, cozy pools of gold across long wooden tables. The smell of ink and old books welcomed you like an embrace. The tall windows were darker than they were before now. And most of all, it was silent in the way you liked. The library had always been your refuge.
You passed a few stragglers who also had nothing better to do on Valentine’s Day as you made your way to the back of the huge reading area, shrugging off your cloak and draping it over the armrest before sinking into a wooden chair.
As the minutes passed, books started to accumulate around you on the table. You diligently studied for your next exam, burying yourself in the library as evening settled over Hogwarts. The light outside the tall windows dimmed so slowly that you hadn’t even noticed until you took a glance and realized how much time had passed. You rolled your shoulders, flexed your aching fingers, and leaned back over your notes. You read the same line three times, finding yourself unable to focus as hunger gradually gnawed at your stomach.
It hit you that you had not eaten at all today.
Your plate at breakfast had gone unfinished, and you skipped lunch entirely to come here. The dining hall would be closing soon. You considered getting something from the kitchens later. Though in truth, your appetite had vanished after the encounter with Riddle, your mind preoccupied with other things.
Then, you remembered.
The chocolates.
You stilled, hand hovering over parchment. A small feeling of guilt bloomed in your chest. You had nearly forgotten about them.
At least I won’t starve, you thought dryly.
Thanks, Riddle.
When you reached into your satchel, your fingers brushed against something smooth and rigid. After a second of hesitation, you drew out the box. It was elegant, with dark packaging and a perfectly tied ribbon. It felt nice and cool against your warm fingers that had been working for hours.
You set it on the table, undoing the carefully knotted bow, and lifted the lid almost excitedly. You loved chocolate, and you were always curious about the taste of different ones. A container like this would surely hold varying types that you were interested in trying. Some could have a filling of jam, or caramel, or a different flavor chocolate inside. The possibilities were endless.
Where others sought spontaneity in their real lives, you found it in chocolate. Because chocolate was the one thing that could never hurt you.
When you set the top aside, you saw that inside lay neat rows of white chocolates, each one ornate and delicately crafted, faintly glossy under the light. Your breath caught at how stunning they were, and you inhaled. A smile curled onto your lips despite yourself, giddy in your seat like a child.
They smelled exquisitely divine. They looked like the sweet and rich type, very expensive — just as the Slytherin girl from this morning had claimed. Too pretty you didn’t even want to eat them. You didn’t question how he knew of your preference. Because you rarely went a week without white chocolate; anyone paying enough attention could have noticed.
And Tom Riddle paid attention.
Your stomach gave a sudden, sharp pang at the enticing scent.
With the grace of an eager child, you picked one up and brought it to your mouth. The smooth chocolate melted instantly on your tongue, silky and decadent. A soft, pleased moan escaped from your lips before you could stop it. Embarrassed heat rushed to your cheeks, and you glanced around.
Merlin.
You hope no one heard that.
You swallowed quickly, your hunger starting to satiate bit by bit, before your fingers reached for another without thinking. The second tasted even sweeter. A warmth like no other continued to spread in your chest, like something had been wound tight and was now loosening itself. You leaned back slightly in your seat, tilting your head and humming in satisfaction as your eyes shut for just a moment.
Tom’s face suddenly surfaced in your mind with startling clarity, but not with the typical unease that came with it before.
You only remembered the charming curve of his soft, pink lips. The single, adorable curl that always falls over his forehead like it’s dying to be tamed, fixed back into place by your gentle hand. His strong, broad shoulders and the confident, attractive way he carried himself. The way his voice had dipped almost sensually, eyes smoldering when he told you Happy Valentine’s Day.
Your fingers tightened around the edge of the box.
Why had you said no?
You were confused.
Tom had been awfully considerate earlier today. He had known exactly what you would prefer. He had arranged everything so carefully. The lie, the empty courtyard, the timing to give you peace of mind.
Your pulse quickened.
Tom had looked at you like you were the only person in his world.
A soft, almost aching pressure built beneath your ribs. You could picture him so vividly now that it made your breath shallow. He was extraordinary. Brilliant in every class. Admired by professors. Feared, even, by some. There was something absolutely magnetic about him — something no one else had.
And he had chosen you.
A sharp wave of regret washed over you, sudden and consuming. How foolish you must have seemed. How cold. You had rejected him without even trying to understand him. You wanted conversation, you told yourself. You wanted to know someone first.
Tom had been trying to give you that chance.
And you had hurt him.
The realization struck with surprising force.
He had stood there — perfectly composed — while you rejected him. Tom had offered you your favorite flowers and you felt a pang of regret now at not taking them when you had the chance.
Your heart began to race in earnest, a dizzying rhythm that made your fingers tremble slightly. The warmth in your chest deepened, spreading into your throat and then to your limbs like fire. You felt unsteady and lightheaded. The thought of him alone somewhere in the castle, alone because you had sent him away—
No.
The idea of it twisted painfully in your heart like a knife.
“But, if you do happen to change your mind, I’ll be at the Astronomy Tower this evening. I hear the stars will be rather exceptionally beautiful tonight.”
You glanced toward the tall windows of the castle library. The sky outside was darkening rapidly, clouds thick and dark grey. It might storm soon tonight. Tom had said the stars would be beautiful. But perhaps he had only meant it as an excuse. An offering. It didn’t matter.
You had been so careless. Of course you had feelings for him. How could you not? Every glance he’d ever given you now felt charged in retrospect. Potions class — earlier, you figured out he had smelled you. That was why he’d stared. Tom was drawn to you. He hungered for you.
You released a soft gasp, your heart thudding harder.
Better yet, he understood you like no one else did. You were sure of it now. He had watched quietly, learned your preferences and your habits. The thought of him doing just that, of staring at you for long periods of time without you even realizing just to understand you made your heart soar, a flush blooming on your cheeks. Taking his time, he had waited for the right moment to confess. You pressed your fingers lightly to your lips, trying to steady your rapid breathing that sounded almost like panting.
You needed to see him. A need that felt important above all else.
You needed to go. You needed to fix this. Not tomorrow. Now. He must have thought you didn’t care. He must have believed you dismissed him as easily as the other boys who tried.
Standing abruptly, your chair scraped loudly against the floor. A few students glanced up from distant tables, annoyed — you even earned a soft shush from somewhere to your right — but you barely registered it. Your pulse hammered in your ears now, loud enough to drown out reason. Every thought circled back to him — his voice, his eyes, the way he had said your name.
How had you not seen it before?
Tom was perfect.
Handsome. Intelligent. The very idea of him made your stomach flutter and your pulse quicken. Of all the girls who trailed after him, who whispered about him, who would have fallen at his feet if he so much as glanced their way — he had only looked at you.
A soft ache spread beneath your ribs. You had mistaken him. He hadn’t looked unbothered today because he didn’t care. Tom was giving you space.
Your throat tightened.
Tom was waiting for you.
He had said he would be at the Astronomy Tower this evening. It was evening. He might leave. The idea filled you with an unreasonable urgency. What if he thought you truly meant your refusal? What if he decided you were not worth pursuing? What if someone else—
No.
Your stomach twisted at the notion.
Your books and parchment lay forgotten as you close the lid of the chocolate box with careful, trembling hands and slipped it back into your bag, clutching it close as though it were something precious. You didn’t even bother with your cloak. The thought of missing him made your chest constrict. He would understand. He always seemed to understand. Tom was always so understanding.
You loved him.
The realization felt less like a question and more like an admission of truth you had been avoiding. It explained the awareness of him and the irritation at his composure. You had been afraid of wanting him. But he wanted you.
And you wanted— needed to see him desperately. If you didn’t, you think you’d die. You may have wasted the day, but you won’t make the mistake of wasting the night. You belonged with him. And you would not let him slip away.
The staircases seemed endless.
You didn’t remember leaving the library. You barely felt your feet striking stone as you ran, the slap of your shoes against stairs you nearly missed, fingers clutching freezing stone banisters to swing yourself around corners. Students cursed with startled protests as you shoved past without apology; one boy nearly dropped his books.
Someone may have called your name. You weren’t sure. The only thing you were sure of was Tom. Nothing mattered in the moment except him.
The castle was extremely chilly after sunset. Cool wind slipped through narrow slits, raising goosebumps along your bare arms through your thin blouse, yet heat pulsed under your skin — feverish and burning. You had left your cloak draped over the library chair. It did not occur to you to go back for it. So, you had forgotten it. Forgotten your books. Forgotten everything except him.
Tom.
Every minuscule and unimportant thought curved back to him. Your mind whispered his name like a prayer. Your breath tore in and out of your lungs as though you had been running for miles. Up spiral staircases. Through corridors and past suits of armor. The storm had begun outside; you could hear it building — wind battering the windows, distant thunder rolling like a warning.
None of it mattered.
There was only one fixed point in the world, and it was at the top of the Astronomy Tower.
You took the final staircase, breathing shallow in uneven gasps, heart rate frantic and desperate — fingers gripping the metal railing to steady yourself. The tower door loomed ahead, iron latch glinting at you mockingly. You shoved it open with strength you weren’t even aware you possessed just to get to him.
The wind struck you fully at once, brisk and furious, carrying the faint scent of rain washed stone. It whipped your hair around your face, but you paid it no mind. The sky was ominous and frightening, nothing like what he had promised.
Yet, amidst it all was your North Star. Your guiding light. Funny, wasn’t it? That he was in the Astronomy Tower of all places.
The clouds hid the heavens, but Tom glowed as he stood in the dark of night at the balcony’s edge, facing the horizon with his back to you, hands resting lightly on the railings. The storm swallowed the sky, but in your vision he was lit from within. The only thing illuminated. The only thing that mattered. His dark robes stirred with the breeze, the fabric clinging and releasing against his lean frame. You could only see the elegant line of his neck and the sharp angle of his jaw. He looked carved from shadow and pale marble, perfectly still against the raging weather.
You could only stare in awe.
He looked like he belonged to the night.
The beauty of what lay in front of your eyes made your breath catch in your throat.
“Tom.”
The name left you with reverence and breathlessness, almost disbelieving — like you had stumbled upon something sacred.
He turned.
At that moment, thunder cracked overhead. Lightning split across the sky in a violent flare of white, bathing Tom in a sudden light. For a heartbeat, your world froze with that flash. He looked like an angel. The light carved his high cheekbones, hollowed shadows beneath them, kissable lips curved in something that was not quite surprise.
His brown eyes found yours instantly before the faintest smile touched his lips — and somehow, you felt like you could breathe again. Like your entire world had rightened itself under your feet. Because Tom looked so happy to see you.
Rain began to mist in the air, cool against your flushed cheeks.
“I wondered how long it would take,” he finally spoke, voice carrying easily through the harsh winds. Your heart trembled at the melodious sound.
The implication in his tone flew right over your head. You only heard his voice, smooth like velvety chocolate on the tongue. It wrapped around you like warmth which you were in desperate need of.
Tom knew you would come. And he waited, so patiently. He knew you better than you knew yourself.
You stepped toward Tom before you even realized you were moving, like he was a magnet. Then again. And again. The distance— the separation between you felt unbearable.
And Tom watched closely the entire time, tracing over you slowly in a way that made you shudder from the intensity. He took note of everything, studied you. The lack of a cloak and your thin blouse which did nothing against the chill as if you had rushed over here. The flushed cheeks and your heaving breasts. The wild shine in your eyes. The way your hands trembled slightly at your sides.
Tom’s gaze darkened with something akin to pleasure.
“You’re cold,” he observed, though his voice carried no real concern.
“I don’t care,” you whispered.
Every step closed the space and yet it was never fast enough. The wind tangled your hair across your face, but you did not brush it away. You could not look anywhere except at him.
“You were right,” you choked out, your voice unsteady. “About the stars.”
Tom paused for a moment, faintly confused before his lips tugged at the corners in amusement at your state of delirium. It was, after all, an effect of the Amortentia he put in the chocolates you took from him this morning. It was also the last thing he had said to you in parting, and so, it wasn’t surprising you would be fixated on it.
“I’m usually right.”
You know that now, down to your marrow.
“You’re beautiful,” you breathed instead, unable to help yourself from commenting on it. Up close, he was overwhelming. And that smile on his face was devilishly handsome. It gave you butterflies. Satisfaction flickered in his eyes — eyes like dark chocolate. You loved chocolate and you loved Tom.
You reached for him to steady yourself as though you had been falling all along. And the second your fingers touched the fabric of his robes, the world narrowed to that single point of contact. He was real. And he was yours. Tom stood at the center of your universe — like the stars, burning and eternal.
“I—” Your voice trembled suddenly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see it,” your words tumbled over one another. “I didn’t understand earlier. I was foolish. I thought— I thought I didn’t know you. But I do. I must. I just— didn’t want to be… like the others.”
A huff of amusement came from Tom.
“You are nothing like the others.”
By the look on Tom’s face, he seemed to be telling the truth, so sure of himself and what he had spoken to you. Of course he was. Tom would never lie to you. He did earlier today, but that was because he knew you’d be too stubborn to listen then. Again, an example of how well he knew you.
Another roll of thunder swallowed your words.
You closed the final, treacherous inch between you and collided into him like a supernova, fingers fisting into the fabric of his robes, pressing yourself against his chest as though proximity alone could steady the storm inside you. Your arms wound around his waist, clutching him tightly as though he might vanish into a black hole.
Tom went rigid beneath your touch.
A subtle tension rippled through him as if your unrestrained contact took him by surprise. But it was gone almost instantly. His arms came around you with one hand settled at your lower back, the other sliding possessively at your nape, fingers threading lightly into your hair.
You melted into his burning touch. His hands felt like a furnace on a cold night. You took advantage of the situation, inhaling the scent off his clean clothes. And God, he was the best thing you ever smelt — better than chocolate. Better than the ones he had given you that tasted sweeter with every bite you took. You wondered if Tom’s lips tasted the same.
“I thought I didn’t need anyone,” you continued, your voice breaking as hot tears streamed down your cheeks. “But when I left you this morning, i-it felt like I couldn’t breathe.” Your fingers tightened in the fabric at his back. “It felt like something was crushing my chest.”
Tom’s hand at your neck flexed with subtle pressure, guiding you closer. His chin lowered slightly — so tall, so tall — resting against the crown of your head. He did not hush you. He only listened. Oh, Tom. He was perfect in every way.
“Did it?” He murmured softly in return, voice near you ear. His thumb brushed upward along your spine in a slow, absent movement. Safe. You felt safe in his arms. You only nodded against him hysterically, fingers clutching at his robes, wrinkling the immaculate fabric.
Tom’s gaze lifted to the stormy, dark horizon in the background as you spoke into his chest. He had known you would come. The amount of love potion he put into the chocolates were enough to tilt you gently in the direction you were meant to face. Toward him.
“I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t think. I kept seeing you. And I realized…” Your breath hitched. “I realized I can’t be without you. I don’t want to be. I need you,” you finally confessed, cheeks hot, fisting his shirt. The words trembled as they came out of you, but they were certain. You were afraid for him to leave you, to be alone.
“I need you like I need air, Tom.”
The wind howled faintly around the tower, tugging at your hair and at his cloak with fiercer ferocity. The storm clapped mercilessly above, rain starting to pouring heavily into the balcony which you both stood near at an angle. Tom stepped closer inside to avoid being hit much by it, leading you backwards with him.
You barely noticed, eyes locked on his face like you couldn’t look away; entranced.
Tom tilted your chin up with two fingers. You looked at him through tear blurred vision, cheeks flushed, lashes wet, lips parted and wobbly. Devotion was written plainly across your face. Worship and unwavering loyalty. Tom’s gaze swept over you slowly, drinking you in. He couldn’t help but swallow, pale throat bobbing.
Perfect. You were… perfect like this.
“You want me? You need me?” He repeated very quietly, voice raspy as he cupped your cheek. It sounded like gospel to your ears. You leaned into his hand. Honestly, you could hear Tom speak all day. You almost hated yourself for having to respond because he went silent just to hear you. But Tom wanted you to talk to him, and you would do anything to make him happy.
“Yes,” you gasped, your response immediate and absolute.
Tom’s thumb brushed beneath your eye, catching the edge of a tear as he collected it onto his finger. He examined the moisture on his skin briefly before letting his hand fall.
“I don’t give my attention lightly,” Tom hummed. “You know that.”
“I know.”
“And when I decide something belongs to me…” His eyes held yours, unblinking. You inhaled sharply. “I do not let it go easily.”
A shiver ran down your spine.
“I don’t want you to,” you whispered.
Tom’s hand slid from your jaw to the curve of your waist, fingers spreading there as though testing the shape of you, claiming you. You leaned into him further. He drew you impossibly closer than that, your body pressed against his fully now. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your palm. It wasn’t beating erratically like yours.
Your fingers slid higher along his chest, curling near his collar. He doesn’t stop you.
“I want you.”
The statement hung in the air as Tom simply looked down at you.
“You have me,” Tom said at last, and your heart swelled painfully at that. He understood. He always understood. You buried your face against his chest again, tears barely dampening the front of his rain soaked clothes. His hand moved to the back of your neck once more.
“And you won’t run again,” he murmured, and it sounded like seduction.
“No.”
His thumb pressed lightly at the base of your throat, just enough to feel the frantic pulse there, tilting your head back up ever so slightly to meet his eyes.
“Say it.”
You swallowed, and he felt it against his finger. You were completely vulnerable in this position. And yet, your breath shook wildly, eyes dilated.
“I won’t run from you.”
The faintest hum left him, almost content.
“Good girl.”
Your breath hitched at the praise. Good girl. You wanted to hear it again and again until it was etched into your bones. Your lips parted instinctively as if asking for more without words. Lightning flashed again, closer now. The harsh breeze mauled at your damp hair, whipping it across your face again. He reached up and smoothed it back with unsettling gentleness.
“You belong with me,” you practically begged. “Don’t you see? I belong with you.”
“I was hoping,” he started carefully, pausing to look over your expression, “that you would come to that conclusion on your own.”
Your heart seized at that. He had believed in you. He had waited.
“I love you,” you hiccuped, the words tumbling out without hesitation.
Silence followed. Droplets of rain striked the stone around you.
“You couldn’t live without me?” Tom asked.
You shook your head helplessly, enamored with him and hanging onto his every word.
“No.”
A faint exhale left him — almost a laugh, but not quite. For all his contempt of love potions, Tom could not deny their elegance.
He had always despised them — weak little instruments for those too pathetic to command any type of devotion on their own merit. The irony of his own conception had burned that hatred into him early. A foolish girl from a crumbling line, infatuated with a filthy Muggle, desperate enough to drug him into counterfeit affection. A love potion slipped into a drink. A Muggle man ensnared. And from that humiliating farce — him. His mother had begged for love. And when it slipped through her fingers, she had withered.
Lord Voldemort would never wither.
Lord Voldemort would never be weak.
He would never beg a filthy Muggle to stay. He would never cling to someone who did not choose him freely. He would never lose control of himself the way his mother had. Tom did not feed you this potion because he lacked control over you. He brewed it because power — which was neither good nor evil — meant using every bit of magic available.
Tom Riddle was nothing like his stupid mother.
Merope had dosed Tom Riddle Sr because she feared he would leave. Tom had dosed you because you would not have the good sense to stay. Because you were stubborn in that infuriatingly, principled way. Because you required… encouragement.
And now?
His hand tightened subtly at your nape, thumb pressing into the pulse at your neck just beneath your skin as if testing it. You trembled for him. You burned for him. You had run through the castle, abandoned dignity, abandoned sense, abandoned warmth — because you needed him.
A memory flickered through his mind.
It would be months ago from now. He had not meant to linger in that aisle longer than necessary, running a simple errand for a professor before he heard his name. Now, Tom was by far not an uncommon name, he admitted to himself with bitterness. But, he recognized the voice. Out of pure instinct, he peeked through the shelves, curious and silent, gaze sharp through the narrow, emptied out spaces between spines of ancient books in the castle library.
Tom saw one of the girls who he had turned down the day before. Clearly, she was not as okay with it as she had pretended to be and would gladly tear him apart for sport in front of her pathetic friends. Not that he cared about such trivial matters. The concept of love was the least of his concerns. He knew what to expect. Tom could read people like an open book. Resentment and hurt; he had grown accustomed to nurturing it in others every time he said the word no.
But then, he heard you.
Defending him.
You hadn’t known he was listening. You had no idea he stood on the other side of that shelf, watching you. You had simply said what you believed to be true. That he owed no one his affection. That boundaries were not arrogance. You had sounded sincere, not a single trace of want in your tone.
It had stuck with him.
At first, he assumed it was typical teenage girl pettiness. A little rivalry using a clever remark to wound another for competition… until he realized you never once looked at him in class or in corridors. You did not smile at him shyly. You did not linger near in hopes of getting his attention. You did not even seem to care that he existed.
It wasn’t always obsession.
That was when curiosity took root.
Then, curiosity became irritation.
Tom Riddle was accustomed to being watched. To the whispers. To the desire and lust in other people’s eyes. But you — infuriatingly — refused to orbit him. Never preened. Never sought him out. You rejected boys without hesitation, as if their offers were minor inconveniences. Including Tom too, apparently.
What did you want, then? What standard did you hold that so many failed to reach? He couldn’t figure you out as easily as anyone else. And ironically, Tom Riddle hated riddles.
After closely watching you for months, he had figured out plenty about you. You lived quietly, guarding your privacy like treasure. You liked silence, he did too. But not the eerie kind like Tom did. You preferred the type that consisted of at least some natural noise. You disliked spectacles, stiffening at anything that would draw attention to you. Like him, you valued control. In some ways, you and him were not so different.
You tucked your hair behind your ear when irritated. You frowned faintly when concentrating, a look he’s seen many times when you never noticed him staring right at you. You were kind. Tom first saw it in the way you protected his name in conversations that did not concern you and he hasn’t forgotten it since.
And then, there was the chocolate — always white chocolate. It was your weakness. He had catalogued it months ago, when you unwrapped one absentmindedly. The faint smile you wore when you thought no one was looking, how you so easily lost yourself in it, brain going numb — the sight made him hungry in a way he never was growing up as a poor orphan. It made him want to ravish you where you stood. He had been looking. He was always looking at you. And you were blissfully unaware.
Tom had known you would eat what he gave you. Your sweet tooth was abominable. How could something so simple bring you so much joy? You lacked restraint when it came to sugar. He had measured the dosage of Amortentia carefully — enough to turn the tide of your stubbornness, not enough to dull your mind completely. He did not want a puppet. He wanted something that felt real, that sounded real — as real as a love potion can get.
Tom had given you the illusion of choice; in a manner of speaking. And when you still rejected him in the courtyard — just as part of him knew you would — cold fury had flared inside him, bright and violent, beneath his composed exterior. You had dared to believe there was someone better suited to you than him? How dare you find him insufficient? Who could possibly surpass him?
No one.
No one would have you.
He had orchestrated every detail to make you comfortable.
And still, you said no.
How ungrateful you were.
He had even planted the seed with Slughorn weeks before, during a late Slug Club gathering. It was a casual suggestion, an offhand remark about the curriculum timing what with Valentine’s Day approaching. Wouldn’t it be amusing to align love potions with the season? Slughorn had beamed at the brilliance of it, utterly unaware he had been maneuvered.
The pieces had arranged themselves beautifully. As they always did, the stars shone in his name — for he was the universe’s favorite. Everything would work out for Lord Voldemort in the end.
As you clung to him now, pliant, Tom felt no guilt. Only confirmation that you were not like the others — he had been right about that from the beginning. You had defended him when you owed him nothing. You had shown him something dangerously close to loyalty before he had even asked for it.
And loyalty deserved to rewarded.
In all honesty, your trust had always been your flaw. You defended him when you did not know him. You believed in goodness where others would not. You believed in him.
You were too good for your own good.
And goodness, in this world, required protection. He would be that protection. Deep down, even a god like him craved to be seen as a man from time to time. So, you would love him like one. Tom would show you how. And you would never stop.
Tom’s lips crashed onto yours with bruising force, a hand fisting in your damp hair. Deep and claiming, his tongue swept into your mouth like he was starving for the taste of you. Like he’d been starving for weeks, months, years. Like this was his first taste of life and death all at once. You gasped against him, overwhelmed — and Tom took the opportunity by deepening the kiss, your body arching instinctively into his chest, a hand gripping your waist hard enough to bruise.
He backed you against the stone walls of the Astronomy tower, thigh nudged between yours, pressure settling exactly where heat pooled most desperately. You whimpered, a broken sound swallowed by another searing kiss.
Tom’s hands were everywhere — rough, impatient, possessive. He shoved your skirt up past your hips without breaking the kiss, wand calloused fingers dragging over bare skin before finding your panties soaked with slick. He growled into your mouth at the feeling. A dark, satisfied sound that made you even wetter.
Tom didn’t let up, your whimpers going straight to his groin. He fed off every breathless sound you made, every tremble that ran through your frame at his touch. When he finally pulled back an inch, his brown eyes burned down at yours, flashing red almost. They were feral.
“So wet,” he rasped against your lips, tone thick with something between disbelief and satisfaction with you. “For me?”
You could only nod frantically as his thumb circled once over swollen flesh like a loving caress one would absentmindedly give an animal, a slow tease, before taking them away. Before you could complain however, without warning, Tom dropped to his knees before you on those cold stone floors drenched by windblown rainwater pooling near your feet and gently pushed up your soaked skirt once more. The second his cold, powerful fingers brushed your inner thigh, you shivered.
Tom looked up at you through dark lashes. Droplets of rain streaked down his pale face. His hands were steady, skillful— too calm for a prodigy that was about to do something so filthy on a magical tower where anyone could find them.
But then again, Tom had never cared about rules when it came to getting what he wanted.
And right now?
He wanted you.
With deliberate slowness, torturous, he hooked one long finger under your soaked panties before he pulled them aside. A cool gust of wind swept over your exposed heat just as his warm breath ghosted across sensitive skin. A soft gasp left your throat at the sensation before your lips parted further in surprise.
Tom had licked once — a long, slow drag straight up your slit — and groaned like it was honey on his tongue, the sound making you clench around nothing. He was starting to understand why you lost control of yourself when it came to sweet things.
All you could focus on was the mouth suddenly sealing over your core like a man possessed. His tongue worked in ruthless circles, relentless and straight to the point, plunging inside before licking back up again with just the right pressure to make your knees buckle.
You cried out, a high pitched and desperate sound as one hand fisted in his hair while the other braced against damp stone wall behind you. You wanted him. You wanted all of him. Anything he’d give you, you’d take in a heartbeat. The wind continued to howl around you, drowning out your noises, rain slashing sideways onto your faces — but neither of you cared.
All that existed was Tom’s mouth devouring you like ripe fruit offered to a god — the wet sounds obscene as he sucked at your clit between sharp nips of his teeth — a low growl vibrating from his chest and against your folds, sending shocks through the sensitive flesh every time another whimper escaped your lips.
Everything about this was borderline animalistic, something you never expected from Tom.
Tom.
Tom.
“Tom, Tom, Tom—!”
Your voice was a broken melody as you worshipped his name like it was the only word left in your world, dazed and drunk from the love potion’s magic. He was the only thought in your head. It confused you how you could love someone so much so suddenly. But you guess that’s what it meant to love someone so great. Each utterance of his name dripped with reverence, laced with the love potion’s haze and raw pleasure as his tongue worked magic between your thighs. And though he despised that name — Tom Marvolo Riddle — hearing it fall from your lips like this? Like you were praying to him?
It undid something in him. Tom reveled in it.
His eyes stayed locked on yours even as he feasted on you, dark pools of hunger and possession flashing with each clap of lightning outside. Rain slicked every inch of his face. His cheeks dusted faintly pink from exertion — but it hadn’t compared to how utterly wrecked you looked above him.
Fingers tightening further at your hip while the other curled under your thigh, lifting it effortlessly so he had a better angle. Tom was relentless. Every lick, every suck — each one was born to ruin you. His tongue dragged up your slick folds with agonizing slowness, the tip playing with your tiny clit just enough to make you whimper before pulling away completely and doing it again. And again; like he had all night.
It was just them, like it was always meant to be — the breeze whooshing around their bodies that were pressed together — and Tom was worshipping at the altar of your cunt like it truly was sacred ground only meant for him.
Tom groaned against you when you ground down harder onto his mouth, hips rocking helplessly as pleasure coiled tighter in your belly. One hand shot out instinctively to brace against his shoulder while the other still clung desperately to his hair — pushing his face deeper without meaning to.
The vibrations of another low growl rumbled through his lips straight into your throbbing bundle of nerves. You were so close, rutting against his pretty face in tandem.
“Tom,” you whined pitifully. Tom knew. He always knew.
He could feel it, from the way your thighs tensed to how your breaths turned into frantic little gasps that dissolved into moans. From the moment you tilted your head back, baring that delicate throat to the sky, breaking eye contact with him although he knew it pained you to do so. Because all you ever wanted to do was look at him now.
Without breaking rhythm, his tongue circled your clit while two fingers suddenly pushed inside you without warning, long and deft, finding that spongy spot deep within instantly, filling you up deliciously.
“Tom— oh! Oh God—”
Tom smirked up at you. Your back arched off the wall while thighs shook around his invading hand. It burned, stretched you too fast — but god it was good, especially when Tom curled them upwards just right. He sucked hard on your puffy little nub and the combination of everything all at once was too much.
A scream tore from your throat, his name ripping out of you in a sob as the orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. You didn’t even recognize your own voice.
Your back arched violently off the wall. Your hips jerked against Tom’s mouth and fingers like a delightful seizure as pleasure washed through every nerve ending in your body. You could see it behind closed eyelids — flashes of light, stars bursting across your vision just like he’d promised.
Tom didn’t stop.
He let you ride out your high, feeling every pulse of your pussy as you clenched tightly around his fingers, slurping gently now to prolong it while his digits kept pumping inside you at an achingly slow pace meant to wring every last drop of ecstasy from your trembling body. You let out a shaky breath, hands carding through Tom’s wet strands endearingly, the wet look making him look even more attractive.
From the rain or your juices, you didn’t know. All you could do was gasp for air and whisper his name again between shuddering gasps as Tom kept going until the last tremor had faded from your body, ignoring the strain in his trousers for now.
Only then did he finally pull his fingers free with a wet pop — lifting them to his lips and licking every drop of you clean without breaking eye contact. Your cheeks grew hotter, eyes glassy and dazed as you peered down at him, pupils dilated and practically the shape of hearts. His expression was pure sin, dark eyes heavy lidded and mouth glistening with your slick and cum.
“Delicious.”
You were still slumped against the wall, legs weak and breath ragged, completely wrecked.
But Tom was far from done with you.
In one fluid motion, he stood up — towering over you again before he yanked off his soaked cloak in one impatient tug. The fabric hit the wet floor with a heavy splash as rain dripped down every sculpted inch of him. His thick cock already painfully hard beneath his pants. Your gaze devoured him, tracking his bulge specifically as he begins to unbuckle his belt without breaking eye contact.
You barely had time to acknowledge how your back ended up on the cold stone floor, or how your clothing now lay torn in shreds, exposing your entire body to him — Tom looming over you like a predator about to claim its prize. His eyes looked wild and free. Your heart skipped a beat.
The cold stone bit into your bare skin but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating off of Tom’s body when he blanketed yours, even when his clothes were soaked and you lay entirely bare in contrast before him. Rain pounded down harsher than before as he positioned himself between your thighs. His cock, his beautiful cock already glistening at the tip from precum, pulled out from between his zipper. It tapped against your soaked entrance before circling it almost teasingly. You don’t remember seeing him taking it out.
One hand gripped your hip tight while the other braced beside your head. Tom’s breath came ragged now too, control fraying at every second spent not inside you.
Tom didn’t give you time to overthink as his hand guided himself between your slick folds already swollen from his earlier attention. His mushroom tip pressed hot and heavy against your hole and you clenched involuntarily, eager to suck him in. It leaked precum onto your sensitive skin. So close. You could feel how big he was, thicker than your wrist, longer than expected — and a pit grew in your gut before it went away like it had never existed.
“Breathe,” he murmured, not unkindly. He must have sensed you were nervous. But, Tom was also impatient as he proceeded to press the tip inside without warning.
As his cock pushed in, stretching you impossibly wide — a groan, deep and guttural, was wrenched from his throat. You were tight. So tight it nearly stole his breath.
“Mmnn—”
You whimpered at the burn. Every inch of him was slowly sheathing itself in your slick heat, gooey walls fluttering around him like a heartbeat. Virgin cunt untouched until now. Until him.
His glorious cock speared into you further like a divine sword until he bottomed out inside you fully. Full. Your lips parted in a silent scream, brows furrowed and eyes fluttered shut. You never felt this good, this full, even though it stung a little in comparison, when you ate chocolate.
You were delirious, lost in your head. On top of you, Tom didn’t move again right away.
Couldn’t.
Just braced above you with trembling arms, your nails digging crescents into his pale skin, drawing a hiss that sounded unnatural for a human to make but it made you clench around him all the same. His forehead pressed to yours as rain dripped from his face onto yours like holy water. His hips twitched involuntarily — a shallow grind that dragged a whimper from your lips.
Then slowly. So. Fucking. Slowly. He pulled back, your head tilting as your eyes rolled back to your skull, toes curling, until just the tip remained before pressing in again.
Thunder and lightning clapped in your ears, splitting the sky in jagged bursts that lit your upturned face for a few seconds. The world above was chaos, black storm clouds swallowing the sky as the heavens raged. Rain hammered down mercilessly, turning the stone floor beneath you into a slick mirror. Your soaked hair splayed across the stone floor like a halo.
You stared up at that upside down horizon with hazy eyes, each thrust from Tom rocking your head back further against wet rock as he rutted into you.
And yet, all you could think about were those stars that you saw behind closed lids whenever pleasure crested too high — the ones only he had shown you.
i "forgot" to say i love you...with jamil and jade!
synopsis: will this prank work on your boyfriend? ...let's see about that...! (it sure is a cute effort!!)
tags: established relationship, fluff n def not as sad as the title suggests lol, pretend jamil has his own dorm room xd, jade really got the heart eyes for you here I Guess...
wc: 900 something for snek & 1,000 something for fih
hi to my first work on tumblr...revealing my baby TO THE WORLD!!! #yolo
“Hey, be a bit more gentle, will you?”
“Sorry. I got carried away…your hair is just so long and pretty, hehe.”
Doing Jamil’s hair care had become a weekly routine between the both of you. It just happened one day while you were bored, lounging on his bed. After seeing him come back from the washrooms, you asked him all about his hair routine – which has now led him to sit in between your legs while you apply his hair oil.
The night usually ends with you sleeping in his arms, but you decided to play a prank on your (seemingly) unsuspecting, sleepy boyfriend while his guard was down. After all, he was too perceptive in his usual state, so you don’t think you could pull it off then…
After sifting a comb through his hair to clear out any knots, you set it down and stroke his hair one last time before getting up. Thinking you were both about to head to sleep, Jamil looks up at you, confused. “Where are you going, baby? Washroom?”
You fight back the smile threatening to appear on your face and maintain a neutral look, eyes meeting Jamil’s inquisitive ones, “Hm, no. I think I’m gonna head back to my dorm tonight.” Jamil cocks one eyebrow, but sighs, “It’s late. I’ll walk you to your dorm." Huh, that was easier than you thought. Still, you’re mildly disappointed that he accepted your excuse so quickly…
Nonetheless, you move on to the second phase of your plan! “No, it’s alright, I’ll call you if I need anything.” You move to gather your things, and slowly move to the door, waiting for his response. Looking from where he’s lying on his bed, “If you wish. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
You set your hand on the doorknob, and bid him goodbye one last time, “Okay, I’m off Jamil!”
“Mm, take care. Quiet on your way out, you might wake Kalim.” He stands up from the floor to move to his bed, getting himself ready to sleep. However, you aren’t satisfied with his response, because you couldn’t even execute the last part of your prank! “Jamil, I’m going now.”
“Are you forgetting something?” Oh, is he falling for your bait? You turn around and meet his eyes once again, “No, I think I have everything I need.” Despite your words, Jamil switches his gaze to his table, where your phone is lying. “You have no more need for your phone then?” He smirks, amused by your forgetfulness. You, on the other hand, are utterly…flabbergasted. No way I actually forgot something?? So he didn’t fall for anything then???
You still make an effort to look composed, but Jamil notices how red the tips of your ears are getting, “Ah, that, I didn’t need it, but thanks for reminding me.” He chuckles at your indifference, “So, how were you planning to ‘call me if you needed anything?’ Did you plan to send me a message by pigeon?” Jamil smirks at you teasingly, his handsome features making your heart skip a beat…but no! You mustn't lose sight of your goal!
“Aha! I was just testing you, you know…” you walk over to grab your phone from his desk, “Okay, I’m going for real this time. See you tomorrow Jamil!” You send him a little wave bye, before facing the door yet again. “Be safe, see you.” This is the third time he’s telling you goodbye, and his usual “I love you” is missing. Pranks aside, you feel like you’re the one getting tricked because he genuinely just forgot to say it three times…or so you think.
Deciding to give up on teasing your boyfriend, you fold, saying, “‘Kay see you, I love you Jamil!”
“Yes, sleep well. Don’t run into trouble on your way out.”
“Mhm, love you~.“
This time, he doesn’t say anything, and only hums in response. Now you just feel like you played yourself. You’ve already said it, so why isn’t he saying it back!
“Jamil, why aren’t you saying it back?” You walk to stand in front of where he’s lying on his bed. Your boyfriend sits up, his face holding a neutral expression. However…you notice a mischievous glint in his eyes when he speaks, “Hm? Say what back, baby?”
Ugh, he knows!
“How did you find out?! I literally just thought of pranking you minutes ago, right before I faked my exit!!” Exasperated, you violently sit yourself at the edge of his bend, arms crossed. Jamil is tempted to push your buttons a bit more, but decides to end this. “Prefect, I knew the moment you stood up that you were up no good. Might I remind you that you have no choice but to sleep here, since Grim blew up Ramshackle the other day?” Thanks to your blue-flamed cat, Ramshackle had to be closed down for repairs for a few days, and Jamil offered his room for you to stay in for the time being…so…how’d you overlook that vital fact again?
“Blah, blah, just say you don’t love me anymore!” You huff, move your head away from him in an over-the-top manner, playing up the theatrics to cover up your embarrassment. When you peak an eye out to look at him, he’s already sitting next to you. “Don’t act angry with me now, you started this. Now that you’ve had your fun, let’s go to bed, hmm?”
You look away, continuing to ignore him, but the hand on your chin forces you to meet his gaze again. He sighs, clearly tired from the day's events, but still chooses to indulge you, “Won’t you come to bed now, baby? I love you~” he teases, crooning into your ear.
Hm. You can always try pranking him next time if it ends like this.
You: Jade, are u there?
I wanna make truffle pasta, do u have extra?
Jade: Hello, Prefect.
It appears I do have some at hand.
If you’re free, I can drop by your dorm and give it to you tonight.
You: YAY
You’re a lifesaver Jade!!
Jade: Fufu, it is no problem, my dear.
I’ll see you later, I love you ~
Seeing his last reply, an idea pops into your head. It’s rare for him to tell you he loves you in words, but the opportunity to prank him has already presented itself…is it so wrong to plot against the master schemer?
You close your phone and begin prepping the ingredients to cook the dish. Unbeknownst to you, your phone buzzes.
Jade: Prefect?
It’s unusual for you to leave him hanging, seeing as you usually return his affections without another thought. It‘s no matter, Jade thinks, if you’ve forgotten, he’ll just have to get a response from you in person.
He smiles to himself, thinking of the adorable expression you make whenever you tell him you love him. He finds that he looks forward to hearing it from you again.
At the appointed time, Jade prepares the mushrooms and makes his way to Ramshackle dorm, unaware of the little scheme you’ve made against him…
Your plan was simple, pretend to forget to tell Jade “I love you,” and act clueless towards his affections. It shouldn’t be too difficult if you set your mind to it, you’ll just have to somehow muster the resolve to defend yourself from his attacks…(read: one pout from your eel and you fold).
Hearing him knock on your door, you welcome him in as usual, “Jade! Thank you again for the mushrooms–I can try a new recipe now, hehe.” Seeing as he makes no move to come in or be on his way, you tell him, “Well, I’m sure you’re busy, so I’ll see you later.” You stand on your tiptoes to plant a kiss to his cheek, leaving him stunned.
Eyes wide open, Jade composes himself and sets a hand to his chin. “My, Prefect, you’re acting rather bold this evening. However, there is one thing you’re forgetting,” he muses, taking a step towards Ramshackle’s lounge. “It seems you’ve left our last exchange…unfinished.”
Smiling to yourself, you look at him with innocent eyes, “Hm? Is there something I missed? I’m sorry, I got caught up with cooking the pasta…”
“It is quite alright, it only presents me an opportunity to hear it from you now, fufu.” Jade hides behind his hand as he chuckles, looking at you expectantly. You didn’t expect him to be so direct, but that’s Azul’s right hand for you, you guess. “Hear what exactly? Do you want me to sing you something? Lalalalala–” you begin, but your boyfriend quickly presses a finger to your mouth.
“Oh, how you wound me, my dear. It seems that you haven’t picked up your phone, I presume?” He takes a step closer toward you, “I love you, dear Prefect~.”
“Aw Jade, that’s so sweet of you!” you smile, moving away and entering the kitchen, “I’m not sure what you want, but would you like to cook with me tonight?” you offer, placing the mushrooms on the counter.
Somehow, Jade winds up at your side, acting as your sous chef for the evening. Using his skills from managing Mostro Lounge, you find that the truffle pasta is done without a hitch. Setting the food on the table, the both of you sit down to enjoy your masterpiece. However, by the way he’s looking at you, it seems like this eel still wants something…
“Prefect, wouldn’t you say that we’ve done quite a wonderful job this time? I myself am looking forward to tasting the fruits of our efforts. Don’t you think so?”
“I know, this looks so good!” you twirl your pasta around your fork and feed it to Jade, “Here, try some!” Used to your antics, your eel opens his mouth to try the dish.
“Mm, I might have to tell Azul to add this to Mostro Lounge’s menu, fufu. As always, I do love your cooking, Prefect.”
“Hehe, I’m just glad you like it!”
“I must say, I also love the way you look tonight. I find you in your loungewear utterly adorable.” You don’t know how he’s saying this was a straight face, but it makes your heart race a little…
“And Prefect,” he adds, “I do have an appreciation for your skill. It seems I find myself falling in love with you more after this evening.”
You respond with a very elegant,
“AHAK–” choking on your pasta, you look up to see Jade smiling down at you, leaning on his palm. Why is he being so honest this evening, did Azul make him drink a truth potion?!
He gently pats down on your back, handing you a glass of water, “My dear, are you quite alright? I apologize if I have burdened you with my confessions…I just simply love you, is all.” He makes an apparent effort to look pitiful, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes downcast, but you know better than to believe his act.
Gulping down the glass of water he offered you, you breathe out, “Jade? Is there something you want to tell me?” you meet him in the eyes, and he smiles at you politely, “Why are you being so sappy all of a sudden?”
His eyes crinkle up in amusement, “Oh, it’s nothing, my dear. It just seems that you’ve been forgetting something this whole time…”
The jig is up, you think. Admitting defeat (or victory, seeing as how far you pushed him?), you sigh out, “Okay, okay. I love you too, Jade.” Hearing your words, his face visibly lights up, his smile widening by 0.676767 millimeters.
“Well I’m glad to hear that you still return my affections, Prefect,” he takes an obvious glance at the lounge’s grandfather clock and sees that it’s already half past ten, “It seems that I may have overstayed my welcome, I believe I should be on my way.” Standing from his seat, he smoothens out his uniform and gives you a little bow, “I shall see you tomorrow, my dear.”
So, this whole time…Jade was stalling long enough to hear you say “I love you” back? And successfully baited you into it as well?!
No fair…well, at least you know how desperate he is to hear those words from you, despite how collected he seems on the outside.
Before he takes a step out of the lounge, you wrap your arms around his middle, “Jade, you always tell me this, but between the two of us, you’re the one who’s cuter here~”
“I have no idea what you’re referring to, my dear,” Jade turns to you and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “Goodnight, I look forward to seeing you in the morning,” he smiles. He opens your door and makes his way back to Octavinelle.
As soon as he steps out of your gate, however, his phone lights up. He looks at it to see a message from you:
I was just kidding the whole time, I love you too Jade!
also it's like one of the first things i've ever written kinda just wrote this and threw it to the wind #hope it makes sense (i made one for riddle too but lowk wasn't Feeling it but if u would like to see Lmk ty gang... muwhahha
synopsis: after overhearing a conversation from the tweels, you think that jade's tired of you. because you're withdrawing from him, jade resorts to one thing: woo you once more.
“Jade~! I think I’m done now, how did I do?” Sitting up on his bed, you show your boyfriend the homework you sort-of-but-not-really desperately asked help on.
“Are you, now? Let me have a look, then,” Looking up from his desk, he wears his signature smile–though he holds a little more fondness in his eyes whenever it’s directed at you.
Nights like this were common. Sprawled out somewhere in his room you’d lie around going on Magicam, messing with Jade’s hair (who knew your eel could look so cute in pigtails?), or on nights like this, swinging by to ask help for Potions class…with a secret agenda of wanting to sneak in a kiss and embrace your boyfriend.
“Hm, it seems you’ve successfully evaded a scolding from Sir Crewel, my dear,” Jade sits beside you where you sit, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “Though I do look forward the times you come running to me after a failed experiment, the troubled look you give me is always quite amusi–adorable.”
Before you could retort, Floyd breaks into the room with a BANG!, clearly demanding something from Jade. The sky has gotten dark, so it’s probably your cue to leave before you can get squished by a certain someone…
Closing the door behind you, hearing yourself mentioned by Floyd makes you pause.
“Hey Jade, don’tcha ever get tired of Shrimpy coming here so much? I don’t know how you aren’t bored yet.”
“The Prefect came to visit to ask questions on Potionology, but I do admit that it has become a routine for us to have my room as a meeting place after class.”
“Eh, so you aren’t tired of it?”
There’s a beat before Jade replies, “While I do enjoy the Prefect’s company, it does seem that our meetings have become quite redundant. It might prove to be a bit tiresome, yes.”
At that moment, you don’t know if you should have stopped in front of Jade’s door. Have you been intruding in his personal space? Has he simply been tolerating your presence, and simply doing what he thought would make you happy–to be the “perfect” boyfriend for you?
You quickly make your way to Ramshackle, fearing that any more talk would continue to break your heart. That night, you steel your resolve to give Jade what he wants–space, so that he wouldn’t grow bored of you, or worse, break up with you. He may claim to love you now, but with the eel’s nature of becoming quickly infatuated with something, you believe he could also drop it without hesitation as soon as it becomes mundane. You’d rather delay that outcome, if possible.
The next day goes off without a hitch–it’s like the conversation between the twins never existed, because as soon as your class is over, you see Jade standing by the door, patiently waiting for you to come out and walk you to your next class as usual.
For some reason, you wince at the sight of him and think, is this all an act? Still, you stand by his side and greet him. He leans in to smoothen your uniform for you, “Fufu, Prefect, I assume you were in a rush this morning? Your collar is askew, but there, I’ve fixed it,” He holds out his arm to you, “Shall we walk to your next class?”
You stretch out your arm to link it with his, as if by muscle memory, but stop yourself midway, remembering his words from the night before. Instead, you choose to position your hands behind your back, grinning up at Jade. His usual smile doesn’t falter, but you notice the slight twitch of his eyebrows at your decision to withhold physical contact, how unusual, he thinks. Despite the tension in the air, your eel still walks you to history next. Still, he doesn’t stop his attempts at growing closer to you.
“Would you allow me to hold your things for you, my dear? I see you’ve forgotten to hand me your books.”
“Well, I just feel like carrying them myself today. Also, I’ll just see you at Mostro Lounge later, you don’t have to walk me to flight class anymore. I have to grab something from Deuce in between.”
Ouch. Met with another rejection, and plighted with the news of you meeting with another boy (though that boy is a certified goofball), clearly avoiding him. What could you possibly ask from that Heartslabyul boy that he couldn’t provide for you? Besides that, you were always delighted to be by his side. It made no sense to change your routine even if you did need to pick up something. He’d simply accompany you. What caused you behavior to go amiss? He wonders, and catches on that something is wrong, fast.
Not wanting to act without being certain, your wounded eel accepts your words for now. “I see, I’ll be awaiting your presence at the lounge tonight, then.”
Little does he know, you take his lack of objection as further confirmation that you’ve been too clingy, and your chest feels a bit tighter.
As you two part, Jade somehow comes to the conclusion that he must woo you–again.
But now, you fully believe he’s grown tired of you.
“Hiya Shrimpy~ are ya lookin’ for Jade? He’s in the kitchen makin’ a special meal for ya, or so he says,” Floyd shoots you a lazy grin and slings his arm over your shoulder, which earns a nasty glare from Jade standing by the counter. Why are you accepting his touch, but not mine? It turns out that your eel is a bit more dramatic that he lets on.
When you approach him, he lays out a meal he prepared for you, along with your favorite tea. Freeing you from Floyd’s grasp, he places his hand on your shoulder as he guides you to one of the booths at the center of the Lounge. You notice that his grip is a bit firmer than usual, and that his smile towards you seems a bit strained.
Once you’re seated, you expect Jade to go on with the rest of his shift and serve the other customers pooling in, but he instead takes the seat beside yours, leaving almost no space between the two of you, and grabs a bite of the food and…turns to you?
“Prefect, I’ve made your favorite today, now if you would just open wide and say, ‘ahh’,”
You feel Jade’s cold fingers on your chin that move to make you face him. With his eyes meeting yours, you notice that his features seem more relaxed now compared to earlier–the strain in his smile is now replaced with a look of fondness. Why was your eel acting extra sweet today?
However, you feel the looks you’re getting from the other students dining in at the lounge. You remember that to them, it seems uncanny that the ever so intimidating, cold, and scary Jade Leech is looking at you like you hung the moon–not to mention feeding you a bite of his cooking!
You have no choice but to play along to his whims, and move to taste the food. It’s cooked to perfection–perfectly adjusted to your tastes. You can tell Jade’s spent time trying to cater to the flavors you enjoy, but you can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness gripe at your heart knowing this could be the last time you’ll ever try it. Instead of responding with praise, as you normally do, you silently chew on your food, with a neutral look on your face.
“Hm, is something the matter, Prefect? I believe I’ve cooked the meal to your liking, or perhaps your tastes have changed?” Jade presses his eyebrows together and pouts to give you a look of feigned hurt, which you’re familiar with by now, but for some reason his tone seems to hold genuine concern. All this over food, Jade? At the moment, you can’t tell what he’s thinking anymore. “Is it perhaps the position we’re sitting in that makes you uncomfortable? I did try to reserve the best seats in the lounge for you, I thought you might enjoy a change from where we usually sit.”
What kind of stunt is this eel trying to pull? Is the extra sweetness part of the act?? Does he know that you overheard him and Floyd last night???
You offer Jade a flushed look, half because of how cute his concerned face looks and the other half being that you have no idea what to think anymore. Distracted by your adorable reaction, Jade believes his plan is working.
What really sends you into overdrive, is when he walks you home from Mostro Lounge. Instead of offering his arm to you once again, he silently intertwines his gloved hands with yours as you make your way to Ramshackle dorm–leaving you no room to refuse his touch.
“Prefect, please send me recipes you’d like to try in the future, I’ll try to recreate them for you if today’s cooking was not to your liking. Perhaps you’d like to have a dish with shrimp in it, fufu,” your eel teases you about your earlier lack of reaction. While he may jest, he secretly worries that his efforts haven’t reached you. After all, his main goal of the night was to please you, and remove the doubt in his mind that you were distancing yourself from him.
Reaching the gate of Ramshackle dorm, you speak up, “Jade, I can go from here. Thank you for cooking for me, it really was good,” for some reason, it sounded like the last time he’d cook for you, Jade thought. How curious.
Of course, what kind of gentleman would he be if he allowed that to happen? “My dear, do you think I don’t have the decency to walk you to your door? You wound me, Prefect,” the grip he has on your hand feels tighter as he walks the path leading to your home, “Come, I’ll even make some tea for you inside, if you’d like.” But as he expected, you take the chance to refuse his effort of spending any more time with you.
So your beloved eel resorts to one last thing as you approach your door, “I shall brew you a drink another time then, Prefect,” he slithers his free hand around your waist to pull you closer, enough for you to pick up on his comforting scent. Then, he brings your hand up to place a kiss inside your palm, looking up at you with his smile, “Have a good night, my dear.”
You find yourself surprised at his sudden display of affection, he must still be toying with me, huh? Either way, you still feel an overwhelming sense of giddiness being on the receiving end of such love from your eel, whether or not the reason behind it is actually what you think. Not wanting to let your feelings show, however, you simply nod and wave him goodbye.
Jade can’t help but feel the distance between the both of you grow, despite his efforts. However, little does he know that how you watch him leave all the way until his figure disappeared from your sight. His actions confuse you, but it doesn’t stop you from longing the times you could indulge yourself in his sweetness.
The following week was the same–you were under the impression that Jade had grown bored of you, and that he was toying with your feelings at this point before dropping you eventually. You rejected his advances as physical affection, spent more time with Grim and your friends, and rarely dropped by his room to hangout. On the other hand, Jade was working harder than ever to get on your good side again. He was unfamiliar with the feeling of being unsettled by one person, a human at that. However, your boyfriend mistakes the feeling of missing your active presence for being unsettled.
He had been needlessly sweet to you the past week. He began appearing at your doorstep in the morning with a drink in one hand and offering to carry your books in the other, but not without taking your hand to place a chaste kiss on it first. He also started acting more physically affectionate with you too, which wouldn’t be weird if not for where he’d do it. In the past, Jade preferred to show your affections in private, but now, he’ll bring you close and lay his head on your shoulder in the middle of the courtyard, claiming that he needs to rest! What a sneaky eel you have.
Deciding you’ve had enough of this confusion, you gather in the big leagues to ask advice. Certainly, you’d consult those seasoned in the area of relationships, with mature minds and words of wisdom. Surely, maybe someone like Vil or Trey, an experienced senio-
In your living room, you sit across Ace and Deuce.
Not that you had a choice, because they noticed how lovey-dovey you and your boyfriend have been lately and decided to make it their problem because surely something MUST have happened!
Click clack…Jade opens the gate to Ramshackle, holding a container of sweets you mentioned the other day, hopeful to gain an excited reaction and maybe a little praise coming from you.
“Okay guys, the truth is, I overheard Jade and Floyd talking about me the other night and….”
Oho? By now, Jade’s reached your door and is about to knock, a polite smile on his face, but he pauses when he overhears you mentioning his name. The Prefect is chatting about me even in her private time, how adorable.
“What did that bastard say about you??? Does he need to be taken care of???” Ace exclaims loudly, clearly carried over by emotion. Deuce aggressively shakes his head in agreement.
“Wait! I didn’t even get to that part yet…you see, he said that I’m too tiresome to be with….”
Hm. Jade wasn’t expecting that. In fact, he was a little hurt at the fact that you could even consider he’d think that of you.
“--and I think the reason he's being so much sweeter towards me these days is because he knows I overheard them. Is it all an act? I can’t tell anymore, but I don’t have the heart to ask, in case I’m right…”
Jade stands still in front of your door, his smile intact, your sweets still in hand. But to his surprise, he almost drops them.
Clutching them a little harder now, he takes a step backwards and decides to retreat. He takes big strides over Ramshackle’s lawn. How odd of me, he thinks. He’d usually take the chance to scare first-years and amuse himself with their reactions when they find out he’d been listening in, and of course, he’d like to soothe your doubts right then and there–but a big part of him doesn’t realize how much he actually treasures you. He needs to corner you talk to you privately. It’s all an excuse, because he needed to compose himself lest he breaks down your door.
Jade hates how you ever thought of those things in the first place. How could you doubt this eel’s sincere heart that only wishes to win your affection once more? With a new resolve, he concludes that he must seek you out directly.
How direct? Well…how about eel appearing in your kitchen first thing in the morning?
Waking up to the smell of your favorite food is something you haven’t experienced since coming to Twisted Wonderland. There go the ghosts, messing with the kitchen. But wait, why does it smell…really good? Like the kind only Jade would make you?
Dragging yourself out of bed and hopping down the stairs, still in your pajamas. You see the tall figure of your boyfriend brewing some tea, and you’re met with his signature smile when he turns around. You can’t decide if you’re ecstatic to see him so early in the morning or afraid because he’s now spreading his antics to your dorm, wondering what’ll happen next.
“Have you slept well, dear Prefect? Come, I’ve prepared you your favorite meal–I especially foraged the ingredients for this dish.” Jade takes hold of your arm and leads you to sit on the dining table, occupying the space next to you. He’s already dressed in his uniform, his black strand of hair straightened, and gloved hand already pouring out tea for you to drink.
“Jade…this is really sweet and all, but can I ask you one thing?
Here it comes, “Of course. By the looks of it, I assume it’ll be quite a fun discussion, fufu.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” You don’t mean for it to sound so blunt, but you’ve only just woken up, after all. It’s the one thing that’s been weighing on your mind since that night–is he just acting the part of a “perfect” boyfriend, when in reality, he finds your company to be quite meddlesome? Why does he still keep you around, or rather, actively seek you out more than ever now, if you aren’t amusing to him anymore?
“Ah, is it so unusual of me to want to treat my beloved so well? I must say, I am a bit hurt that you would doubt my actions toward you,” his eyebrows knit together, forming that worried expression of his, “On the contrary, dear, might I ask you why you’ve been acting differently as of late?”
Now he’s turning this on you, huh? Well, you decide, there’s no other choice but to come off clean, and end your worries once and for all. You take a deep breath, before telling him, “Okay, the truth is…I overheard you and Floyd talking the other night. Remember when I came by to ask help on Potionology?”
“Of course, I remember that you followed my tutoring so well–it seemed that asking for “help” was just an excuse to seek out my affection that night, though~”
You laugh dryly, wondering why he was acting fond of your physical touch, “Jade, I think it’s time to end this. I heard you tell Floyd that I come to your room too much, that it’s tiresome to always be with me. I’ve known you long enough to expect that you’d eventually grow bored of me.”
“I tried to keep my distance from you and give you a chance to break up the routine of being with me, but why are you acting this way? Why are you suddenly being more…romantic, sweet, than normal?”
On the outside, Jade maintains a neutral expression. But internally, he feels a foreign feeling of disappointment. Not at you–never at you. But at himself, for not relaying his true emotions toward you. Was that truly what you thought of him?
“Prefect…I believe you have a wrong idea of how the conversation went on. Would you like me to tell you the full details?”
Huh???
“While it is true, Floyd did ask me if I had gotten tired of…our time together, my response was referring to the fact that we usually meet at my quarters. I was considering the option that you’d appreciate if we had a change of pace, and go someplace else for a change. I was thinking of other ways to please you. I never thought that you would interpret our conversation in that way.
Extending his hand to place on your cheek, he continues, “On the contrary, I thought I had done something amiss, and my behavior the past weeks has been an attempt to court you once again. To you, I extend my deepest apologies–I find it difficult to imagine that I would ever get tired of you.”
“If you would allow me, I would like to take care of the perpetrator of the issue,” Jade grins, his eyes uneven. The way his eyes glimmered, you knew that a certain twin would be on the receiving end of his wrath. He made a move to stand up, possibly to make his way to Octavinelle and beat up talk to his brother, but you quickly pulled him back down to his seat. You’d rather have your eel intact so he could hear what you had to say.
“Oh Jade, I’m sorry too–I can’t believe I…” Now you just felt mildly embarrassed, and a bit angry at yourself for letting your thoughts consume you. After a beat, you found yourself in a fit of laughter at how badly you misunderstood the conversation. Jade looks down at you with a fond smile, seemingly content with the outcome of your discussion–how long had it been since he saw you so carefree around him?
You wrap your arms around his and lean your head on his shoulder, and look up at him, “So…you don’t mind it if I do this, after all?” A sly grin occupies your face, your eyes crinkling at the thought that Jade might love you more than you thought.
“Not at all, instead, I do wish you would show your affections toward me more freely. Seeing how much you’ve rejected my advances toward you in past weeks, you have a lot to make up for, Prefect, fufu,” Jade gives you a chilling smile, but now you know his words are genuine–your eel simply missed you.
“Now then, while I admit that you look quite…adorable in your sleeping attire, shall I offer you my assistance in getting ready for the day, my dear?”
Now that you’ve resolved your grave misunderstanding with Jade, you thought that you two would go back to normal–but it seems your eel had other plans. It seems his attempts to woo you haven’t ceased, as you walk down Ramshackle’s rickety stairs to see Jade cooking you breakfast once more. He’s been at it since the first day he came.
You come up from behind to embrace him, but sensing your footsteps, he turns to face you. “Prefect, you’re awake. I’ll be finished in a bit. ” He ruffles your bedhead and leans in to kiss your forehead, “Fufu, or would you rather join me and prepare our meal together?”
You let out a satisfied huff, and ask, “Jade, why do you still come by everyday? Not that I’m complaining, but you don’t have to do all this after, you know…”
“I must admit, Prefect, that I have been wishing to act this way for a while. The situation simply provided me an opportunity to act on my desires and pamper you, fufu,” Jade gives you the smile you know so well, and you can’t help but bury your head on his shoulder, “Ah, Jade…why are you so cute…”
“I don’t know what you mean, Prefect, I’d say you’re quite adorable yourself,” He gently smoothes down your bedhead once more. The both of you stay standing in the kitchen, embracing one another and enjoying each other’s company.
After a while, you look up at your boyfriend. “Jade…I think something’s burning.”
Unfazed, he gently lets go of your arms and turns off the stove. “It seems I lose track of time when I’m you, my beloved. Your touch is too tempting for me to resist, fufu.”
“Just admit you forgot!!”
i eat this trope up everytime i see it and i wanted to write one with jade !! sothis is actually the first thing i've ever fully written before anything else lol please be very kind with me lol (Not that edited either we ball or it'd never see the light of day !!!)
inspired by "an affection anthology" by twstyturny and "jade leech and the three breakups" by schoenpepper (graciously reblogged by twstyturny as well) !!! i <3 the hurt comfort these fics have hihi this has been living in my head rent free since i read it its so so good i love it love it
imagine having an argument with Idia's tablet in the middle of a hallway, and he's getting annoying so you just press the "end call" button and walk away.
. . . 💬 when leona finally got some time to spend with his little herbivore, he couldn't miss the opportunity to pounce.
— pairing: leona kingscholar x you
— warnings: breeding king, reader has a pussy, dirty talk, beastman cock, sex, exhibitionism, mentions of pregnancy (nothing major), leona being a meanie, dumbification? kinda, overstim, denied orgasm
A/N: wrote that one with my pussy ngl
For someone so lazy, Leona got quite the energy when it comes to you.
“Fuck” he hushed on your ear. Hips moving and cock drilling your cunt as you pathetically blabbered, pleading to whoever pitiful deity the sevens knows for what. It never ceased to amuse him how much you got lost when he hammered inside of you. ”Fucking missed that greedy cunt” Leona whispers while he bottomed out, draggin his cock agonizingly slow all the way inside you, caressing a handfull of your butt, a small gesture of tenderness while his barbs scratched your gummy walls. All the stress after so many Magical Shift practices now buried deep in his mind while he pounded on you. Leona let a low grunt when felt how good and snuggly fit he was inside of you, looking at your precious juices that coated that all over his tan skin, girthy cock streching your poor cunt wide.
Leona took a little peek again and had to hold himself to not cum, his cock twitched at the pretty sight of your pussy holding him in like a vice. ”Oh, look at you” he coos “someone missed me that much?” he punctuated his words with a deeper thrust making your choke on your own spit and muffle your moan on his hand. The smell of your arousal tickled his nose, his mind full of you. The arrogant lion put a hand in between your legs to rub your clit, being mean enough to grab a hold of your mound and let a cauculated slap that made you tighteen around his dick, letting a low noise between a hum and a moan, a cocky smirk adorning his lips.
Your hands rasping at the trunk of one of the trees on the botanical garden, legs parting just for him, his pretty little herbivore. Every sharp and deep thrust making that knot inside of your loins tighten so much to the point it would snap anytime soon, tears prickled your eyes at the overstimulation, but you loved, how couldn't you?
”Ah, ah, we don’t noises coming out do we? So be quiet. Unless you want to get that mouth working.” he mutter rocking his hips harder this time. You should be ashamed of how sloppy you were, really. If anyone was closer they probably would’ve heard the slick sounds of your dripping pussy by now.
”Gonna get a bit mean now love, be prepared” He muttered and kissed your hair, holding your arms for leverage as he started to piston his hips again, the sound of his hips slapping against your asscheks was music to his ears, he almost felt bad for not recording it. Anytime now the bell would ring and your little time together would be over, so he had to be fast. Leona bottomed out again letting you take a breath and started to fuck you harder and faster, one hand travelling to your midsection to steady you while other grabbed your chin towards his direction, kissing your to muffle down the desperate and boderline pornographic sounds that leave your mouth.
He part the kiss and hisses out, eyes closed and his hips dont fucking stop, and he swear he can almost taste your release in the air when he lick his lips, the knot on your tummy is about to snap, your abdomen twitch, your toes curl, and it feel so, so good and its almost there… just a little bit more and—
Leona get his cock out and grunt, breaking your orgasm and you look behind almost growling while he hold he base of his beastman cock, angry tip swollen and letting globs os precum falling on the ground.
”Leona what the fu—?” You rasp and he grab your face interrupting you and kissing your sloppy. His tongue making your legs tremble as he part the kiss and grab a hold of your thighs lifting you up, his face is some tones reddish, his pupils blown and his fangs rasps dangerously on your neck as he inhales your scent, aligning his cock on your entrance again.
Thinking about the Octavinelle trio being fascinated by their partners human legs...
Floyd is the most vocal about his fascination. Whenever you're simply relaxing- wether that be in public or private- he's quick to put his hands on your legs. He's unashamed about his curiosity, poking and prodding the appendages like they don't have any sensation. The first time you allowed him to just play with your legs he dug his fingers into your calves like he was trying to tenderize meat.
The only plus side to the jabbing was that it could occasionally act akin to a wonky massage.
He especially likes your thighs and the curve of your bum. They're just so squishy and soft, unlike anything he had ever squeezed in the sea. Sometimes when you're wearing shorts he randomly places his head on your thighs, tracing little coral shapes into your skin. It's one of the few serene moments Floyd enjoys.
The more time you spend with him the bolder he gets with his gestures. The two of you could be sitting in the courtyard, middle of broad daylight, when he suddenly decides to grab onto your thigh and squeeze it with his overly large hands. The unceremonious squeal you let out certainly turned a few heads.
He begins to gnaw on your supple skin, sharp teeth digging just deep enough to leave marks but not break through skin. Safe to say, you can not wear anything that shows off your legs.
Although, its honestly cute how into your legs of all things he seems to be.
Jade is less outright about his interest in your legs, however he makes it very clear that the appendages fasinate him. If you even show the slightest sliver of skin around him he'll stare. He doesn't comment on the bare nature of them but you can tell that they have an affect on him with how quiet he becomes. His eyes go a little wide, admiring the limbs natural movement.
It's so strange too, considering its only your legs that seem to intrigue him so. Especially weird since he now has his own pair of legs as well.
However when the two of you are in private he is all up on your legs. He likes holding them in his lap, examining them like they're a recently discovered species of mushroom. He especially loves the texture your thighs. The way they contort under his fingertips is so extremely different compared to the slick of a merfolk's tail. They're tender and moldable, unlike anthing he had ever encountered in the depths.
How in the Coral Sea could you blame him for being curious?
As your bond grows Jade also becomes increasingly more captivated by your human parts. If you are ever laying on his bed he'll act like your legs are his property. He'll sit in between them, twirling around your ankles and knees with awe in his eyes. Its as if he's trying to see how far your limbs will bend without causing discomfort. He makes comments on how enthralling it is to see how much a human body can endure.
You think he's just trying to measure your pain level. Alas, you wouldn't love this leech otherwise.
Azul doesn't want you to know that he's practically in love with your legs. He finds it shameful, admiring something so mundane in the grand scheme of things. Your legs have been with you since you were born, yet he's out here entranced like a young mermaid longing for the human realm. So when the two of you begin to date he does not let any of his fascination show.
Yet, Azul cannot hide his desires for long, and he begins to subtly show appreciation to your legs of all things.
Whenever you wear anything that shows off even a sliver of your lower limbs your boyfriend is quick to compliment you. He'll continuously comment on them, saying how lovely you look and how you should wear clothing like this more often. It seems he doesn't even realize how enthusiastic he is about it either, with how his eyes sparkle and gaze lingers on your legs.
Eventually though, he outright begins to fond over your legs. If you two are ever seated on a couch together he'll put your legs on his lap and massage them, free of charge. It confuses you at first, but you come to realize this was an intimate moment for him. Being so close to something so unfamiliar to him.
Azul loves to lay on your legs. He finds the plush flesh to be softer than any sea bed he has ever laid on. He places his head on your thighs, fingers wrapping around your calf and lightly- soothingly- scratching the muscle. Before bed he always makes sure to press small, lingering, kisses to the tender skin, thanking him for allowing him to do this before drifting off to slumber. He's so gentle with your legs it could make you cry.
Adore me, hold me and explore me | Minajael Tealrajah
A/n: now and then when I write smut I’ll lock myself in my room and get the inner demons out, so what you’re reading now is likely the product of what happens when you let your inner thoughts win :) <3
Warnings: smut (duh), dom! minajael, written in fem!pov but gender of reader is unspecified, some are not rlly nsfw, a bit ooc, wattpad ahh use of words, not proofread
Again, this is SMUT
i. minajael is a man in love with control
He’s obsessed with the way you say his name during the do, it’s like a sweet melody he’ll never get bored of
His hands are incredibly large, perfect for hand holding or wrapping his fingers around your neck if you’re into that
Loves to edge you, often slow down mid thrust. His girth stretching you to fullest and filling you up again with an agonisingly slow pace as he watches your expression with a smug smile
“You love it, don’t you, Habibi? I’m just getting started, don’t worry…”
Tell him he’s making you feel so good, maybe he’ll speed up a bit and give you the time of your life
ii. minajael loves to finger you, quickies are a must in the relationship
He is a busy man, but mina makes sure that you’re feeling loved!!
Sneaking into the janitor’s locker, fingering you while he let you suck on his fingers or muffle your moans against his hand
Teases the shit out of you when you make a noise too loud, purposely curling against that spot to make you crumble
iii. minajael makes use of toys
There’s likely 2 vibrators he keeps somewhere in his dorm or his bag
Mf will not be subtle about it
“Oh, what is this?” He’d say, pulling out a bullet vibrator when you two are on your way back dorm, then you’ll get flustered and whisper yell at him to put that away
However if he does listen then it’s not Minajael
Since he’s busy with housewarden duties, he’ll make you play with the vibrators while he works, “hearing your voice” encourages him, he says
iv. this man loves your ass
Basically he loves anywhere that he can grope, the only reason he prefers ass is that it’s the easiest target for him
You’re waiting in line at the cafeteria? Smack.
You’re in the library studying? Squeeze.
When you’re in bed? Spank.
It’s not until your ass has redden that he’ll stop, watching them shake just turns him on so much, he just couldn’t resist touching them
But don’t worry, he has some ointment for the redness and gives you excellent aftercare afterwards
v. enjoys watching you get dolled up just to ruin you the next minute
Mina will absolutely gift you necklaces and watch you do your makeup while he sits on the bed observing in silent
The second you’re done and turn to him? He’s more than ready to pounce on you
Say, your boyfriend is like a tiger, he never tells you his next step, when you know about it you’re already being hunted
“Wait Mina-“
“Shhh, hayati, let me love you right.”
His tongue shoved into your mouth next second, cutting off any words that was about to fall off your tongue
“So pretty…all mine,” he mumbles, hands wandering to your neck and fidgeting with the necklace.
“Knew it would suit you,” he smirks
vi. he’d steal a panty or two
Minajael is more than a pervert if we’re being honest
With how busy he may get, poor guy sometimes gets no time to see you for half a week
However every time he comes over he seems to take his sweet time in the bathroom
You always asked yourself what’s wrong
One time when you gave him an impromptu visit you finally got your answer, with Minajael laying on the bed, curtains drawn and a damp fabric pressed against his nose
After that time, whenever he misses you, he’d send you a video of him rubbing his shaft against your panties, or giving a nice, long lick to the already-damp fabric
With the captions: I prefer you anyways
Can you blame your boyfriend for missing you so much?
vii. loves leaving marks on your body that lasts for at least 2 days (tiger ahh)
He’s possessive, to start off
A Prince would never allow his most valuable treasure to get wrongly stolen by the others
Minajael knows your heart is only for him and trusts you with all his heart, yes, but that doesn’t stop the other students from looking at you during lunch hours or trying to flirt with you between classes
Minajael decided that maybe he could use some…marks
“Baby? This is the third one of the week”
You said to your lover, who is sitting behind you, chest to back and his arms wrapped around your waist.
“Not enough, nour eini,” he mumbled against your neck, leaving a wet trail of kisses along the way.
“You know how hard I have to fight myself to not snap at that guy for looking at you that way? That was disrespectful,” another hickey is left on your collarbone, while the man works on the third one on your shoulder.
“How about you leave the first two buttons open tomorrow, love? We should let them see that you’re taken…”
viii. aftercare at max
Said it once, will say it twice: King at aftercare
Always make sure you’re comfortable before he cleans himself up
He knows that getting sweaty and sticky may not feel good to you so he always run you a bath afterwards, and he’ll join
We’re not talking about how sometimes bath time will turn into round2
He gets that you may be tired, so unless you’re initiating it, he wouldn’t do anything
The royal families often raise spoiled bastards but the Scalding Sands’ raised a fine gentleman
ix. dirty talks with the straightest face during morning assemblies or any occasions like it’s nothing
“Your thighs look so delicious in those stockings,”
“Mina, you’re giving a speech in 3.”
His bluntness is something not shown to everyone, and you really like how he’s honest with you, really, but this kind of honesty…
“Baby, you think the waters could hide our little secret?” He’d say to you during swimming class, you two were supposed to be practicing arm stroke no less
“Silly, if you continue getting the yogurt all on your lips I might think you’re hungry for something else.”
Said that during lunch with all the other housewardens watching. By the way.
“Mina, please stop,” you hid your face in your hands, while Minajael leaned closer, whispering in a voice that only you could hear, “so…are you hungry for dessert later?”
“…janitor’s closet?”
“Mhm, that works-“
“Can you two keep it down?(￣ ￣|||)
x. get you a lingerie that matches with the colours of his dorm outfit
Why? Because he can, and matching turns him on
Seeing how you two are wearing matching clothes just makes him think that you’re his to claim
Prefers having sex in clothes during these occasions
“My gosh, I should buy you more of these…” his fingers played with your bra strap before letting go, the band snapping against your plump skin.
“You’re so cute like this, hayati…” he pressed kisses on your bare neck, hips never stopping his ministration. He often thrust to the hilt just to hear a gasp or two from you.
“Mmhm, let me hear you, princess” there he goes, sinking back in with a slow, deep thrust, you could feel the stretch make you lose the last sense of sanity, leaving your mind blank and clenching onto his arm tightly.
“I think blue matches your skin tone as well, should we get those lingeries with lace?” He talks as if he’s not 8 inches in you, fingers moving up to flick your nips, earning a gasp again.
“Baby, use your words, I can’t have you falling apart now,” his smirk widens
