Your interface keeps glitching despite the factory reset; new messages keep popping up from unknown players, text and items glitch every time your fingers skim the interface, and you keep getting items from achievements you didn't even know existed. But you quickly come to realise there might be more at play here.
Pairing: Videogame Character!reader x Diegetic UI!Gojo
Word count: 13.1k - ongoing!
Tags/Content Warnings: MDNI/18+ only, doomed romance, forced proximity, fluff, a bit of angst, game elements, Gojo is an absolute flirt, he's also an interface, bit of a crack fic, fingering, use of toys (dildo's), happy ending! ,additional tags in the chapters.
chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3
This is a new miniseries based on the headcanons (below).
Diegetic UI!Gojo who opens his eyes with a ping! His interface floating above the ground, at eye level with you. You. His sweet, cute user.
Diegetic UI!Gojo who pulls up your stats. God, you lost a lot of health. He wishes he could just protect you. But alas. All he can offer is stats. Numbers. Text. So he does the next best thing for youâsort your inventory when you're busy. You always just dump whatever you collect into your inventory, which is a lot. From small little trinkets to quest items to flowers because you found them pretty.
Diegetic UI!Gojo sometimes changes your stats while you're not looking. A bit of extra max HP, mana that didn't get consumed when using a skill, and, of course, the most important one of all, resetting your fatigue to 0 after sleeping. He saw the dark circles under your eyes onceâyears agoâand decided that that simply wouldn't do. He does it inconspicuously enough that you just shrug it off.
Diegetic UI!Gojo shudders when your fingers touch him. He hopes you can't see the way some of the items and text glitch whenever you touch him. Sometimes he slows down opening up the next screen just to have you touch him more.
Diegetic UI!Gojo yelps when your callousedâbut soft, oh so softâfingers jab at the interface a bit more forcefully. The whole screen bounces up and down. Your eyes narrow at him. "Huh, weird," you mutter to yourself. The next touch is softer, as if you're caressing itâcaressing him.
Diegetic UI!Gojo shuts off the moment he hears you say something about hoping your date would like the flowers. Flowers? You were gonna put flowers inside hisâtechnically yourâinventory for someone else? He simply can't let that happen.
Diegetic UI!Gojo hears you huff and puff while trying to get him to work again, muttering curses under your breath. This continues for a while until you get so frustrated you throw the flowers onto the groundânow fully ruined.
Diegetic UI!Gojo pings! back to life after that. As if there was nothing wrong to begin with. He sees your eyes narrow at the interface. Puffing up his chest, he shows you your inventoryâthe one you tried opening for the past twenty-five minutes.
Diegetic UI!Gojo decides to be bold. It's now or never. He opens another window and starts talking (typing). Your eyes skim over the flirtatious text. He sees you blink. Once. Twice. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out at first. He takes that as permission to continue. He tells you about the first time he met you, how he couldn't take his eyes off off you. How he forgot to do his job, which is to help you. He tells you about all the things he did for you, about how he thinks of youâ
That's when you shut the interface off, but not before muttering a "for fucks sake. How did I get hacked by a troll?"
Diegetic UI!Gojo opens his eyes, and the first thing he sees is sterile, fluorescent lights. Too bright. Too not you. He hears you talk to someone in hushed tones. He tries looking at you, but he can't move his eyes.
Diegetic UI!Gojo feels hands on him. They feel wrong. Not like the soft, calloused fingers that normally touch him. No these hands are too rough. Too big. He wants to scream at whoever is touching him. Don't they know only you can touch him?
Diegetic UI!Gojo hears someone mutter something about a factory reset. Wait, what? They want to reset him? But why? He's been so good for you.
He's vaguely aware of you protesting, but it all feels muffled. Like someone overloaded his system. What if he forgets you? Or worse. You get a new interface.
He's so in his head he doesn't notice the stranger poke around until he feels his eyes go sluggish. Just before the darkness consumes him, he types out an I'll always love you.
Diegetic UI!Gojo who pings! to life. He looks around for a bit until his eyes fall upon the pretty user standing before him. Is that his user? Gosh, how lucky is he?
Diegetic UI!Gojo doesn't remember anything from before the factory reset. Doesn't remember he already fell in love with you before. All he knows is that he can't wait to spend the rest of his life with you.
Summary: Kinktober 2025 Day 6 - Mind Games. Riddle is only attached to one person, even if he wishes it were none. He realises he will soon lose access to her once they graduate, and he really can't have that...
Tags: Toxic behaviour, Manipulation, Fingering, Multiple orgasms, Horcruxes, Being under the influence of a horcrux, Mildly dubious consent, Mentions of murder, Obsessive/Possessive!TomRiddle, Sex magic/Vibration spell, Use your words, Good girl.
Word count: 3.7k
all fandom masterlist | hp masterlist | read it on ao3
Authors note: Riddle in this is really toxic and not a good guy!! I wanted to go heavier on the whole mind games thing but I just kept feeling like it was too much like my one Snape fic... Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ââĄâ)㣠âĄ
READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!!!
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Riddle had formed an attachment to you by pure accident. He hadnât even looked your way once when, in the fifth year, the two of you were paired up for prefect patrols. He peripherally registered that you were beautiful, but he didnât spend much time with thoughts like these generally, just kept them in mind. Beautiful girls could have a lot of influence without realising it, heâd found, so he maintained polite relationships with a few, just in case he should need them for something. It started that way with you, too; he had been polite so that your patrols together could be tolerable, and if he sorely needed a favour from you some day, you may be suggestible to it. Yet, you had surprised him. Initially having dismissed you as nothing but a pretty face, heâd been incredibly surprised to learn you were an excellent healer, talented far beyond your years. The two of you had come across a few second years at the edge of the forbidden forest, one of whom had been badly injured by some vicious magical plant he hadnât seen in the dark of the night. You had been able to cast some healing charms and use some nearby magical plants to keep the boy stable until Riddle could fetch the matron from the hospital wing to take over. The matron had complimented you profusely, implying that your ability with the spells had saved the boy's life. Riddleâs opinion of you shifted immediately; you were a valuable person to know if he ever found himself in trouble. As the two of you continued your patrol, he subtly questioned you about the display he had just seen. You explained that you were fascinated with all types of healing magic, teaching yourself in your free time and researching ferociously.Â
From that day onward, Riddle formed an odd fascination with you. Despite him seeing healing magic as a soft subject, he couldnât deny that no one in Hogwarts, other than himself, was able to teach themself such high-level magic. You were clearly dedicated, and unfortunately, healing was incredibly necessary in his future plans. As the years passed and his ambitions formed, he increasingly pictured you there by his side, healing him as he explored the darkest magic, perhaps providing your services to his Knights, but primarily for him. After that day, the two of you had begun discussing magic and potions during your patrols, building a camaraderie that Riddle had with no one else. You would even listen to his discoveries regarding dark magic, though he posed it as wondering how you might heal someone from such spells. He didnât know if you were oblivious or just willing to turn a blind eye, but you were always willing to indulge these discussions, often returning to him with research on the topic youâd done in your own time, fascinated by the challenge of healing people from such obscure dark magic.Â
Although he resented the word, the two of you were undoubtedly friends. He had started to realise his attachment to you had grown out of hand, frequently finding himself distracted by the flush of your cheeks or the curve of your lips as the two of you spoke. He was not easily distracted. Graduation was rapidly approaching, meaning his access to you would likely end. He was sure you would write to him, sentimental as you were, but he needed more than that. You were the only person he trusted to heal him if anything were to go wrong with his plans. Yet, he knew he could not simply come out and ask you to come live with him after graduation. The two of you were not that close; he had seen to that himself, hoping the hold you had over him would disappear with a little distance. It had not, in fact, the longer he was apart from you, the more irritable he felt.Â
So, slowly, he began spending more time with you. Finding you in the library and sitting down beside you without a word, drawing you away from your friends on Hogsmeade trips with the promise of interesting books to show you, then plying you with coffee and cake to stay with him rather than return to your friends. As exams approach, he invites you to study with him in his dorm for some peace and quiet, as the library is getting busier each passing day. His single dorm, courtesy of his role as Head Boy, gives him a great opportunity to get you accustomed to his presence in close quarters. You spread out to study on his bed, surrounded by his scent as he sits at the desk, smug, because lately youâve been asking him if you can come here, rather than him inviting you. He would subtly suggest that heâd heard your friends making cruel remarks about you on occasion, thrilled when it worked as planned, and you withdrew from them, coming to spend even more time with him.
The creation of his first Horcrux had been an accident. He had planned to start the process after graduation, intending to seek out his Muggle father and grandparents. But fate had different plans. Every few weeks, he went to check on the Basilisk that resided in the Chamber of Secrets under the school, keeping her fed and loyal until he intended to utilise her sometime after graduation. One evening, upon returning from the Chamber, he noticed that he had himself a witness, Myrtle Warren, who immediately began shrieking. He hadnât even meant to do it, panicking and speaking parseltongue, unleashing the basilisk onto the girl, who quickly went quiet. He only realised what had happened when he saw a part of his soul split from his body, looking for an object in which to settle. He scrambled; he hadnât intended for this to happen so early, but he had to make sure he didnât damage his soul by leaving it without a vessel for too long. He had very little with him, but in his bag, he found a necklace he had been planning to gift to you as a birthday present. Heâd been carrying it around since he bought it so that you wouldnât find it prematurely. Running out of time, he directed the shard of his soul into the necklace.Â
Only that night, safely hidden now in his room, did he consider what gifting you this necklace might mean. He found he liked the idea of you carrying around a piece of him a little too much, like he was staking a claim. His soulâs constant presence was likely to make you feel even more connected to him, and him to you. The gift of a necklace from Riddle surprised you, but you were drawn to it, admiring it and quickly putting it on, him moving your hair aside and clasping it around your neck for you. Heâd told you it looked beautiful on you and you had blushed deeply.
The necklace had unexpected effects on you, the dark magic radiating from it affecting you, making you irritable with others and causing you to want to withdraw socially, amplifying some of your worst impulses. Riddle didnât mind so much; it was achieving many of his plans for him. The fear caused by the death at Hogwarts, along with the influence of the Horcrux at your neck, had you gravitating toward Riddle more and more to feel safe and calm, convinced nothing bad could happen to you with him there to protect you. Riddle accepts your presence with open arms, glad to get to keep a close eye on both you and the necklace. He has impressed upon you many times to never take off the necklace and to keep it safe, and you had kept your word so far, but he preferred to keep an eye just in case. He subtly reinforced your feelings, telling you that you would always be safe with him, and that you couldnât trust anybody else, as no one knew how Myrtle had died.Â
Finally, with the perfect storm of his manipulation, the effect of the Horcrux and the fear he had inadvertently awakened throughout the school, he was able to convince you to stay the night with him in his room. He may have had one of his Knightâs frighten you on your walk back from his room last night, but no matter what heâd done to get here, he finally had you where he wanted you, wanting to spend all your time, even your most vulnerable, with him.Â
Youâd brought a small overnight bag on patrol with you, clinging to Riddleâs arm as the two of you did your rounds, afraid. Riddle almost felt bad for you, but mostly, he just felt a dark satisfaction creeping through him at your reliance on him for a sense of safety. He knew you were in no real danger; he was the threat, and he would never harm you⊠not physically anyway. He only wanted what was best for you, and by the time his plans came to fruition, the safest place for you would undoubtedly be under his protection. Not to mention how much your presence could benefit his cause and how much he needed to have you close by so he could watch over you and his soul that you took such good care of. He felt a sense of warmth each time you fiddled with the necklace at your neck, as if you were touching his soul. If it had been anyone else, the feeling would have undoubtedly been invasive, repulsive even, but as it was you, he merely felt a little aroused.
As soon as the two of you could feasibly be considered done with your patrol, you dashed off to his Head Boy dorm, making sure not to be caught. Once inside, Riddle wanted to pounce on you, your constant fiddling with the necklace having filled him with need, but he knew he had to wait, taking a calming breath. He couldnât afford to scare you off, not yet, while you still had places to run and people to seek comfort in. He had to be gentle, romantic even, and you were the only person in the world for whom he was willing to pretend. Besides, he had a plan for tonight that he couldnât ruin by acting too early. He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, looking down at you.
âThe door is locked, darling, no one can get in, we are safe, get yourself ready for bed,â he murmurs in his best attempt at reassurance. His hand trails featherlight to the necklace at your neck, then withdraws. Heâd been touchier these last few weeks, getting you gradually used to him, so you donât flinch despite the intimate touch, merely nodding nervously and heading into the attached toilet. You unpack your small bag, brushing your teeth, washing your face and securing your hair before changing into your nightgown. You blush as you look at yourself in the mirror. You had intentionally packed your shortest nightgown, but now that you were actually here with Riddle, your confidence was faltering. Still, you had nothing else with you, so you crept out into his room and slid into the bed shyly. Riddleâs eyes fix on you curiously, the necklace around your neck running hot as he looks at you. Still trying not to frighten you, he slowly heads into the bathroom, getting himself ready for bed. As he brushes his teeth, he hears distant thunder, smirking to himself. He knew you were quite jumpy, especially lately, so this would give him the perfect opportunity to make you feel safe and secure.Â
Once he joins you in the bed once more, youâre already trembling nervously, jumping at each thunder clap, convinced it was someone trying to break down the door, despite knowing better. He laughs at you, softly, the mocking not detectable over your intense nerves, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close, pleased when you immediately curl into his chest.Â
âIâm scared,â you squeak, balling your hands into the soft material of his night shirt. He tuts gently.
âI see that, darling, youâre shaking like a little leaf,â he says, rubbing your back slightly. âBut I wonât let any harm come to you, ever,â he assures, a dark current running through his voice. You whimper as thunder booms once more, hiding your face in his shoulder. Riddle feels his patience thinning slightly. You were a highly intelligent witch, yet you were so afraid of thunder, even when he had sworn to you that youâd be safe. âDo you hear me?â he asks slowly, trying not to let his annoyance show. He grabs your chin, tilting your head so youâre forced to meet his eye. âNo harm will come to you so long as youâre with me, I swear to you, you have no reason to fear, do you hear me?â You nod nervously. Riddle huffs. âWords.â
âYes⊠I hear you,â you stammer, clinging to him. His hand drops from your chin, fiddling with your necklace. Itâs strange that he cannot feel his own touch on it, yet he is still drawn to the object all the time. âBut what aboutââ you begin.
âNo, you are safe with me,â he whispers through his teeth. âNow stop trembling, itâs ridiculous,â Riddle spots from the drop in your expression that he wasnât meant to say that. He takes a deep breath; he isnât well practised in this compassion thing, but heâs performing it the best he can. âI just mean that I donât want you to feel frightened, darling,â he says as softly as he can, pressing a kiss to your hair. This seems to placate you a little. He rubs your side gently, feeling the shape of your body beneath his hand. The feeling of arousal from earlier wakes up within him as he touches your body freely for the first time. And you arenât stopping him, just looking up at him as he touches you, your trembling subsiding and changing shape into excitement. He can sense it too, and he figures it's time for him to act. âLet me relax you, show you thereâs nothing to worry about when Iâm around,â he husks, pressing his lips to your temple, just needing to feel your bare flesh beneath his lips somehow. His hand sneaks down to your thigh, settling below the hem of your nightgown. âWould you like that?â When you nod, he huffs. âWords,â he repeats, his voice tight.Â
âYes,â you whisper, shy and apologetic, trying to focus on his hand caressing your thigh rather than the sound of thunder.Â
âWas that so hard?â he tuts, pushing up the hem of your nightgown, his other arm still wrapped firmly around your waist. His hand seeks out the warmth between your legs, pressing against you through the fabric of your underwear. You jolt, not having expected things to escalate so quickly âFocus on me,â he reminds you harshly as your eyes flick to the window at a flash of lightning, rubbing against you forcefully, making you whimper. Your head spins at how fast this has escalated. Riddleâs hand spreads your thighs forcefully, then returns to rubbing at you over your underwear, his fingers swirling over the spot that makes your whole body twitch. You look up at him, not wanting him to tell you off again. His eyes are dark as he looks down at you, full of something you canât place. As he removes your underwear, you try to lean up and kiss him, but he pulls away, shaking his head. âNot yet, darling,â he chastises, pushing your underwear down to pool at your ankles and returning his hand between your legs, rubbing at your now bare skin. He can feel the sticky arousal pooling as he rubs at your clit roughly yet pleasurably. You whimper softly at the feeling, embarrassment decorating your cheeks, yet you donât want him to stop. Your necklace feels hot against your skin, your head spinning as Riddle begins to speak once more. âDoesnât that feel nice? Your body certainly likes it⊠Only I can make you feel this way,â he whispers, lips brushing your ear, breath washing over the side of your neck.
âIt feels nice,â you choke out in response, squirming a little, unable to believe how quickly you allowed him to do this. Sure, youâd been attracted to him a long time, but you had been so scared just earlier, and now your body was begging for him, like you were under the influence of something, something deeply desperate.Â
âThatâs a good girl,â he hums, immensely pleased with your compliance. He withdraws his hand for a moment, making you whine, looking up at him in confusion. Riddle grabs his wand from the nightstand, mumbling a few quiet words. You only get a split-second to wonder what heâs cast when you feel a soft buzzing against your clit. Your body jolts in surprise, but the feeling simply follows, making you gasp for breath. Riddle pulls down your squirming hips harshly, holding you in place as his other hand returns between your legs, two of his fingers beginning to ease inside of you without much warning. You gasp, your hips trying to thrash but being unable, the vibrating not faltering for a second. âThatâs it, doesnât that feel good?â he coos, watching his fingers disappear within you with a dark satisfaction. You are most certainly his now. You canât respond with anything but a breathless whine, the onslaught of sensations barely letting you breathe. You feel your brain turning to mush, no longer able to form cohesive thoughts beyond his fingers pumping in and out of you and the ceaseless vibration on your most sensitive spot. Trying to ground yourself, your nails dig into his arm, a drawn-out moan of his name leaving your lips, legs closing around his arm as his fingers begin to pump faster.Â
You feel yourself teetering on the precipice, not having the presence of mind to let Riddle know. Your eyes roll back, your toes curling, and your lips parting in a silent shout as the waves of pleasure go through you. You feel dizzy, your hips trying once more to withdraw from the sensations, yet being physically unable. Riddle's lips brush your ear.Â
âShhh, shhh, youâre a strong girl, I know you can handle it,â he comforts mockingly, continuing to work you through the waves of pleasure, yet not stopping even as they subside. Your whole body shakes, unable to handle the sensations, even as a warm, syrupy feeling lingers in the pit of your stomach. His fingers press against a soft spot deep within you, making you jolt. You hadnât realised the sensations could get even more intense. You want to tell him to slow down, but something keeps you quiet, makes you lean into him instead of away and makes you feel warm when he bites your neck to leave a mark. Your mind is hazy from the vibrations, and he knows it. âYouâre safe with me,â he whispers in your ear, his voice rough. âYou canât trust anyone but me. Iâm all you need,â he grunts, curling his fingers against that spongy spot once more. âYou donât need anyone else, you belong with me and me alone,â he hisses, biting your neck once more. âSay it, you belong to me,â he urges, growling in annoyance when you only whimper. âSay. It.â he demands harshly, his hand on your hips slipping up into your hair, pulling it so youâre forced to look up at him.Â
âI belong to you,â you choke out, squirming, too hazy to register his words properly, but vulnerable enough to digest them, just as he wants you.Â
âThat you do, good girl,â he growls, rewarding you for your declaration by finally pressing his lips to yours, measuredly gentle amid the onslaught of sensation between your legs. You try to follow him as he pulls away, and he tuts at you. âOnly if you say it again,â
âI belong to you,â you moan, desperate for his gentleness, needing him as close as possible. He smirks, pleased that heâs got you. He grants you another gentle kiss, and another and another as you repeat your words over and over. He doesnât tire of hearing it, especially with that desperation in your voice. His kisses, soft yet burning hot, push you to the edge once more, your hand balling into his pyjama shirt in an attempt to ground yourself again, but itâs no use. The pleasure makes you dizzy all over again, pleading with him against his lips. Your body collapses against the bed heavily; you hadnât even realised that youâd tensed yourself off of it chasing Riddleâs lips, breathless and oversensitive. Riddle reaches for his wand, ending the vibrating spell, satisfied that youâve been subjected to his charms enough for the night. You lay there beside him, still clearly out of sorts. He smirks down at you, rubbing your thigh as if to comfort you.Â
âAlright, my darling?â he asks, knowing that he had just completely overwhelmed you. That had been his intention, and it seemed to have worked like heâd hoped, as you curl into him once more, seeking safety and comfort. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close and letting you feel protected. He was sure he would only have to do this a few more times until you would be ready to hear about his plans for you in the future. You might even be ready now, but it was better to be safe than sorry, and anyway, next time he was going to fuck you properly, have his way with you like he really wants. For that, you had to be ready. He feels you touch your necklace, and it sends a pleasant jolt through him. âWhatâs got you fiddling?â he asks gently.
âJust felt compelled to touch it,â you shrug, your voice hoarse and weak. He presses a kiss to your forehead. He feels the gentle, warm caresses deep in his soul.
âTouch it all you like, darling, itâs yours after all.â
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hey you! want to get tagged in my work when it comes out? click here! (Ë” âąÌ Ꭰ- Ë” ) â§
Dark Harry smut where he fucks reader til sheâs cock drunk please?
i kind of strayed away from this but here's some dark harry smut. this isn't very detailed or explicit but i couldn't think of how to make it detailed
harry overheard you today talking to ginny, "i don't know ginny, harry just hasn't been there recently. he's normally so attentive and i really don't want to complain but i feel like he doesn't want me anymore." harry clenches his fist and his jaw as he hears you doubt his love for you.
later on that night when he finds you in bed scrolling on your phone he pounces, climbing on the bed and hovering over you. "i love you so much." before you can reply harry leans down and kisses you hungrily, running his hands over your body.
caught up with harry's kisses you're barely aware that he's lifted up your shirt so he can play with your tits. he's silencing thanking you for not wearing a bra to bed. you whimper as harry pinches your nipple and he smirks.
harry's put you in a mating press and you haven't even realised until he's entering you, making you gasp at the stretch. "harry slow down, you're too big," you say breathlessly. he ignores you.
"mine. you're mine," he groans at you possessively speeding up his thrusts.
you grab hold of his arm, digging your fingernails into the skin, pain and pleasure simultaneously taking over your body. "yours," you whimper, bringing harry's body down to yours so you can kiss him. "yours," you repeat against his lips.
Warnings: obsessive behavior, yandere themes, stalking, blackmail(?), toxic behavior, oc as readerâs best friend but itâs really brief
A/n: itâs Friday 13th so here have some dark content. Im really into mood for yandere content, so there will be moređ
You thanked every possible goddess and greater mind existing as you stomped out of your detention, feeling positively angry and exhausted. You were hungry due to skipping todayâs dinner, your arms hurt from continuous polishing of old Hogwarts armours, your head was buzzing with heavy thoughts only adding to your sour mood.
Youâve always liked professor Flitwick - him not only being a head of your house, but an excellent teacher and great person in general only made your respect towards him grow bigger with every day. But detentions with him were pure nightmare - meticulous and boring work, caused, in your case, by you being late with handing in your charms homework on time for nth time.
It was already past midnight and the only thing you wanted was to get into your warm cosy bed, hide under your fluffy blanket and black out for the rest of the night, getting well-deserved sleep.
You were making your way hurriedly down the dark Hogwarts halls, that looked strangely hostile and unwelcoming in a silver moonlight pouring in through numerous paned windows. You couldnât help but constantly look behind, not being able to shrug off a feeling of being closely watched, just to find no one around, as expected in such a late hour.
Just a bit. Just a bit more and youâd be in the safety of Ravenclaw common room, welcomed by dying fire and fluorescent stars glued to the ceiling by generations of ravenclaws.
And just as you let your guard down, you felt a pair of strong hands grabbing you by your shoulders, turning you around swiftly so that your back was pressed tightly against a cold stone wall of a castle, your throat constricting in fright, not allowing a single sound to escape your lips.
And there he was, standing in front of you in all of his beauty - hogwarts playboy and your personal nightmare - Sirius Orion Black. He was grinning his usual, perfectly practiced, smile down at your shrinking form, and even despite recognizing the person cornering you your whole body only tensed impossibly more.
- Lovely to see you here, Y/n, - black-haired purred mere inches apart from your face, his dark eyes, glistening in a dim moonlight, were ogling you like a predator getting ready to pounce on an innocent lamb.
- Donât act as if you werenât stalking me all this time, you creep, - you spat out, anger mixed with revulsion and fear was bubbling underneath your skin. Black tutted at your bitter words, one hand coming to caress the side of your face with his knuckles, all wounded and rough from constant fights he was picking up. You seemed to regain a little control over your own body, your hands coming to boyâs broad chest in an attempt to push him off, but to no avail - Sirius didnât budge, but only came closer, caging your smaller body under his towering height.
- Now, now, my dearest. Words can hurt, you know? - black-haired uttered in feigned offence, jutting his lips out like an upset child, but you knew better than all of that. You struggled against him once more, but fruitless - your muscles were too tired and weak after long hours or physical work, and Sirius was simply way bigger and stronger than you.
- What do you want from me, Black? - you inquired exasperatedly, voice seething with poison.
Siriusâ perfect eyebrows furrowed up a bit, an expression of fake hurt dissolving quickly and you could see that your question really did surprise him. The hand that was previously tenderly stroking your cheek stopped in its tracks. You could see anger brooding in his amethyst eyes, mad at you using his last name despite him asking you multiple times to refer to him with his first name instead.
- What do you mean? Y/n, we havenât seen each other the whole day, all of our classes were separate, and this bloody detention of yours! Of course Iâm here to see you, what else does it look like? - Sirius said all of that with such fierce, that you knew this time he was really offended by your question, as if the logic behind all of his actions was dead obvious.
- And I donât want to see you. Leave. Me. Alone, - you seethed at him, sharply accentuating your last words with long pauses, looking him straight in the eyes.
You watched as Siriusâ jaw clenching tightly. The hand retrieved from your cheek, balling into a heavy fist; a moment later it hit on a stone wall mere centimeters next to your head with a dull thump, strength of the impact making cold stone of the wall behind you vibrate slightly. You jolted harshly at that, inhaling sharply through your nose; you didnât dare to blink, too afraid to let your eyes off this, this animal - ferocious and insane, driven by his instincts and emotions only, and you were trapped right inside his claws.
A moment of silence stretched uncomfortably, with Sirius glaring down at your shrinking form and you trying your best not to break under the pressure of his heavy gaze.
- Itâs her, isnât it? That bitch Lena. Sheâs turning you against me, putting all that bullshit in your head? - Siriusâ chest thrummed with dry humorless chuckle, his eyes colder than ice.
You felt as if ground was swept right from beneath your feet, your chest swelling with sticky horror. No, not her. Not your best friend. Sirius was purely insane, deeply delusional in every aspect of you. Heâll simply kill her. Or injure her so badly, her chances to live would be near to zero. And he had more than enough money, influence and wit to make it seem as if he never had to do anything with such a âterrible accidentâ. You already knew that, after that Hufflepuff boy that obviously fancied you went missing one day, Siriusâ knuckles raw with fresh cuts and bruises.
- N-no, Sirius, wait, - you stammered out, hands instinctively flying up to rest on his shoulders, his muscles tense under your touch. Your mind was racing with a speed of sound as you tried to find a way out of this horrible situation, to keep Lena and yourself safe.
Sirius was watching you with his scrutinizing cold eyes, fury etched on his sharp features. You felt your eyes sting with tears of panic as you stammered out squeaky:
- S-She al-lways approved of y-you, Siri. Always, - you saw his stony expression crack slightly after hearing you use the nickname, your body shuddering intensely, panic was making it hard to breathe. It was a straight up lie - Lena saw right through Siriusâ insanity, warning you to stay as far as possible from him. But that didnât matter, youâd do anything just to keep your best friend safe.
Siriusâ fist unclenched, coming to cradle your nape; expecting expression etched on his face encouraged you to go further.
- I⊠I was just playing. R-really, how could you eat that, huh? - you sputter out hastily, stumbling over your words and forcing a chuckle out, it came out way too tense to sound natural. But Sirius seemed to follow through everything youâve said as soon as next words left your trembling lips:
- Of course Iâm glad to see you.
His lips stretched in a wide grin, so brilliant it seemed to lighten up a thick darkness of a hall. His thumb came to rub small circles into the skin of your jaw; his other hand that was previously propping Siriusâ heavy body next to a wall came to rest on you waist, drawing you in until your bodies were pressed tightly against each other, you could feel heat radiating off of black-haired even despite numerous layers of clothing.
- You little minx, really got me here, - he murmured softly, eyes fixated upon your face. It took everything in you to force a smile onto your lips, your hands were trembling ferociously, still laying upon boyâs broad shoulders.
Sirius ducked down, rubbing your noses affectionately before sealing his lips with yours, his eyes fluttering closed, lost in euphoria, meanwhile you couldnât bring yourself to even blink, watching his every move with great caution. His hand resting on the back of your head felt extremely heavy and a strong scent of his undoubtedly expensive cologne made you nauseous - it felt like you could pass out at any moment.
Sirius broke away shortly after, leaving a last small peck on your numb lips. It was the first time he went as far as actually kissing you, and you were terrified to even think of how long itâd take until he tries anything more heated than pressing his lips against yours for a few long seconds. Your stomach twisted painfully at the thought.
- Siri, Iâm really tired. Detention was pure hell and I need some sleep, - you uttered quietly, his shoulders slumping slightly in disappointment underneath your palms, but he nodded his head in agreement.
- Yeah, right. Letâs get you to bed then, princess? - Black said with a cheeky grin stretching his soft (now you knew) lips. His hands left your body just to grab one of your hands into his, intertwining your fingers together, leading his way up to the Ravenclaw tower.
Making it up the spiral staircase and uttering a right answer to the metal raven upon heavy door, you looked up at Sirius just to find him already beaming down at you. His free hand came to cup your jaw, bringing your face closer to his - hot lips pressed to your forehead, leaving a chaste kiss on your unnaturally cold skin. He broke away rather reluctantly, winking down at you:
- Sleep tight, sweetness. See you tomorrow, - and with that you departed, slamming a heavy door shut behind you.
Standing in a huge circular room crammed with countless books and parchments, with welcoming fire cracking joyfully and fluorescent stars twinkling down at you - you felt utterly and wholly petrified. Cold sweat was seeping through the soft cotton of your uniform shirt on your back, heart pummeling at the huge surge of adrenaline running through your veins, knees trembling ferociously, struggling to keep your body up.
And it was only now that the realization fully sank in, realization of how deep you got yourself into trouble in your desperate attempt to ensure your best friendâs safety, now seeing absolutely no way out of Siriusâ tight clutches.
Part 2đ€
Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated - feedback inspires writers on creating even more content for youđ
reader is pretty much gender neutral since I donât describe any feminine pronouns or masculine pronouns, or feminity.
also this au has been in my mind a little bit lately lol. obviously everyone is 18+ in this. keep that in mind. dark themes ahead.
You couldnât take it anymore. You were so worried for Harry. He was your best friend and nonetheless, something obviously was going on with him.
âY/n, calm down, Ron said.âYouâve been worried this whole week.â âLook, havenât any of you noticed that he is well, distant? Doesnât tell us much? You ask. âI have but, maybe heâs going through stuff and coping with the whole dark lord thing, having to defeat him is a lot, Hermione pointed out.
âTrue, You say.âI guess. But, I still-â Ron groaned, you couldnât help but form a smile as it was kind of funny.âIâll shut up now, Ron. At least about Harry.â
âGood, Ron replied, wrapping his arms around Hermione, they had been dating for four months now. You couldnât be more happier for them.
âWhere are you going? hermione asks. âNowhere! You lie. Hermione rolls her eyes. âHe said not to talk about it anymore! You say, outsmarting Ron.â
You walk a bit louder than you should have. At Hogwarts, Quietness was rare, and noise was frequent. Also a lot of chaos.
âWhere is he? You murmur, trying to find Harry. You were so in love with him youâd be willing to do anything for him.
Sure, this could be because of the amount of pressure he has to stop Voldemort. But there had to have been something else.
Harry, was a introvert indeed, but this bad and distant? That didnât seem like himself. When you spot him, You secretly follow. Maybe this was stalking or out of pure obsession, you werenât obsessed with him, just in love, that was all.
You only followed his footsteps as you went to see where he went. Maybe you shouldnât have. After all, curiosity kills the cat. But this was out of concern for your best friend, who youâve grown up with pretty much.
You were doing the right thing werenât you? Harry suddenly turns around and you hide. You almost had been caught. Almost. You were scared of what would happen if you were caught by Harry. Especially since he was more aggressive. That wasnât like him. This whole situation was odd itself.
You probably would find that it wasnât as concerning as you thought it was, or completely different to the scenario in your mind. You hoped it wasnât the scenario you pictured in your mind.
Calm down, youâre overthinking, You thought. And yet, I feel drawn to this whole thing. Whatâs wrong with me? Am I truly becoming obsessed?
You were more than filled with self doubt, but you prioritized helping Harry with whatever he needed. Of course, only if it was good. Not if his intentions were corrupt.
You werenât like that at all. And when you finally stopped where Harry stopped, but hiding a bit further so he didnât see you, you didnât find anything interesting, much to your dismay but relief as well.
You chuckle softly, for a moment you thought he was working with Voldemort. How silly of you to think such things.
You begin walking back to your dormitory, it shouldâve been a short and swift walk, if you didnât bump into someone.
âIâm so sorry, You apologize. âDonât be, He winks, and in a suggestive tone. Already, making you feel uncomfortable.âWhere did you come from?â
âUm, I was just looking for my friend, couldnât find him, You lied. âWhat a shame, The ravenclaw said. You wouldâve been surprised if it had a hufflepuff.
Truthfully, Every house had bad people in it. âI better get goingâŠ. You say. âI recognize you, He says.âY/N right? The chosen oneâs friend?â He said that as if you were more than that. Which you werenât, unfortunately.
âYes, now can I get through? You ask, a bit more sternly and assertive. You werenât going to get out of this mess unless you did something. And you normally didnât like doing that. You hated confrontation.
âOh sure thing, can I walk you to your dorm? He asks. âSure, I guess, You say nervously. He says his name and you say yours. As awkward as it is, maybe the feeling of someone actually being into you was nice.
Though, you knew his motives were anything but nice. Still, youâd never let it take that far. âHere is my dorm, You smile.âI hope I see⊠you around.â âYou definitely will, He winks, leaving you to your dorm.
It wasnât a good way either. Heâd probably ask you out on a date eventually. ây/n, what did you find? Hermione asks. âNot much, You say.âBut, before you say I told you so, I know he is hiding something.â
She sighed.âYou are too in love to think logically, Y/N.â You scoff.âIâm not in love with him! I found someone!â
âYou did? Both Ron and Hermione say in unison. The common room was empty somehow, making things better.
âMhm, that ravenclaw guy or something, said his name was Bastian or something.â
Hermione groaned.âY/n, heâs an asshole whoâs only using you for sex!â âI know, and Iâm not letting him use me, U just met him, doesnât mean anything, You defended.
âThank god, Hermione said. âI heard heâs hot though, Ron said. âNot the point, You say. Ron laughed and so did you.
âRon, you have something to say? You joke. Hermione looks over, smirking. Ron blushed.âIâm not gay! I love âMione!â
âCute nickname, Hermione smiled, sitting beside him. âTo be fair, he didnât come up with it first, You smiled.
You looked proud and smug, as you had come up with it in Year 1. Hermione loved it and it stuck ever since. Though, it was a nickname only her closest friends, you, Ron(her boyfriend now), and Harry.
It got darker, and by the time you were in bed, you hear noises coming from the Common Room. So, much to your curiosity, you go downstairs to the common room. Relieved, You say,âMerlin, Harry, I thought you were something else.â
âNo, just me, Harry said calmly.âYou thought I was Voldemort or something?â âNo, you laughed.âYou came in really late. Wonât you get some sleep?â
âIâm not that tired, Harry assured you.âYou donât have to worry about me, Y/N.â âI think I do, You tease.âYou need someone to look after you, Harry.â
He smiles.âAlways putting everyoneâs needs over your own, typical of you.â âItâs kind of how you are, You say.âSelfless, caringâŠâ He sighed, plopping himself down on the couch.
âHarry, Iâm worried for you, okay? You say, sitting beside him.âWhatâs going on?â âItâs nothing, he says. Thatâs a lie, you knew.
âHarry, I know thatâs a lie, You say.âAndâŠâ you stop, looking down to see blood all over his clothes. You stand up.âHarry, what did you do?â
Confused, He asked,âWhat do you mean?â âDid you fall or something? Hurt yourself? Youâve got blood all over, You say nervously, about to pull your wand out when Harry took action quicker.âExpelliarmus!â
He disarmed tour wand, making you taken aback. Why did he do that? You werenât a threat by any means. Pulling out your wand he probably assumed youâd hurt him or something.
âIâm not going to hurt you, I⊠Iâm just a bit scared, okay? I need my wand to-â
He grabs it before you do. His demeanor, you just knew changed. âIâm not giving it back until I can trust you, Harry said sternly.
âGod, you sound like my father, give it back! You say, reaching out for it but not succeeding.âAnd what makes me untrustworthy?â
âThe fact youâre questioning me, and immediately go to your wand! Harry said. âShh! They can hear you! You say, when he grabs your wrist, making you jump.
âYou really want to know? He asks, his tone angrier than youâve ever heard from him. You nodded nervously, more so afraid. This side of him youâve never seen before.
Pulling you closer to him, Harry whispers in your ear,âI killed that creep.â âNo⊠You say.âHe wasnât a creep. And how did you know?â
âI knew you followed me, and I saw it, Harry added.âIâm not as stupid as you might think, y/n.â âOkay, then what were you doing? You ask.âI know youâre hiding something, Harry.â
âFeeling bold, arenât you?â
âMaybe, You reply, your voice filled with venom and a bit more confidence as you spoke. You never felt so confident in your life. But you had to hide your fear and intimidation of Harry.
âAlright then, Harry smirked.âI didnât exactly lie about defeating Voldemort.â âOkay⊠You say. âI already killed him, he continues.âWhich that makes me the new Dark Lord.â
âWhat? You say.âOkay, Maybe your trauma made you-â His hand was wrapped around your throat, not choking you but he could.âIâd rather you keep your mouth shut about this.â
You somehow whimper and nodded. He lets go.âGood.â âI have a feeling there was more to murdering that ravenclaw, You whisper.
âThe fact is, youâre mine, and I just made sure he knew, Harry said possessively. This side of him scared you.
âWhat are you going to do as the Dark Lord?â
âDestroy those who wronged me and the people I love, obviously.â
harry would simply refuse to pull out. the first time you said harry didn't need to put a condom on while having sex he was in heaven. you just feel so good around him, so wet and warm, he could stay inside you all day. this is one of the reasons why he wouldn't pull out.
the main reason being though that filling you with his cum gets him hard again almost immediately. he loves watching his cum spill out of your body before he pushes it back in with his fingers, bringing you to another orgasm as he mercilessly plunges his fingers back inside you. he loves knowing that he could knock you up, creating a family with you. he's considered swapping your birth control pills with sugar pills but doesn't want to risk you finding out, he knows eventually it will happen. it will stick. until then every night he'll cum deep inside you.
You awaken to your alarm blaring. You pick up your phone groggily, feeling as if you haven't slept at all. You switch off your alarm and notice you have an Instagram notification:
Message from @ slmccl: Hello, jacket thief :)
You sit up in bed, your tiredness melting away as you smile and write a response
Message from @ Y/N: I'm so sorry! I hope you weren't too cold :/
You swipe off and get up to go and shower. When you come back, you see Charlie has replied already:
Message from @ slmccl: Charlie froze to death, this is his ghost, and I'm afraid to say you owe coat based child support :o
You laugh and message him back:
Message from @ Y/N: Surely if I'm caring for said coat, you owe the child support no?
You immediately see three dots appear in the corner of the chat
Message from @ slmccl: ...I would like to retract my previous statement
Message from @ Y/N: I'm afraid it's too late. Your court summons will come in the post soon đ
Message from @ slmccl: :(
You laugh, clicking off your phone and continuing to get ready. You head to work in good spirits, actually looking forward to teaching today.
You wander into the building, immediately feeling at home. It was always a hard feeling to describe, but it felt sort of like a blanket. A feeling of warmth cloaking you, safety, contentedness. You pull out your phone to check the time and decide to try and track down Will before class begins. You traipse through corridors, glancing into studios and bathrooms but he is nowhere to be found. If it were Avery you were looking for this would come as no surprise, the girl was permanently ten minutes behind at all times. Will however, not so much, in fact he was usually here early working in a studio. You head to the last place you haven't checked, the costume department.
To call it a department is generous, as it's 90% boxes, tucked away down a corridor that seems to stretch on endlessly. When you finally arrive there, you're disappointed to find it almost entirely empty, save for one woman hunched over a sewing machine. She is so focused she doesn't even notice you enter. You contemplate asking her if she's seen your friend but it's highly unlikely even if he had been here that she'd have noticed. You leave the way you came, heading towards Anthony's studio space.
You walk in, hoping to see Will's face looking at you, but no such luck. Avery is here however, and comes bounding over to you like a Labrador.
"Okay I'm actually really excited for today, aren't you? After spending time with them yesterday I mean, I actually quite like them" Avery babbled, grinning at you.
"Sure Avery, yeah...have you seen Will today?" you reply, distractedly looking behind her.
Avery shakes her head, and her smile fades as she notices the concern on your face. You pull out your phone and try calling Will...no answer. You bring your hand to your face, nibbling at the skin around your fingers.
At this moment, the studio fills with noise. The men from yesterday pour in, Anthony following looking surprisingly composed. Avery leads you off to go and stretch with her whilst the men set up cameras and mics.
You stretch on the floor with Avery, but your mind is still fixed on Will. You've never known him miss a class without telling anyone, and after watching his conversation with James yesterday, you have a feeling that something just isn't right. You sit up, nibbling on your fingers for another moment and then put on your shoes. Anthony calls out to you and Avery to warm up separately and then put on your pointes.
You do just that, quietly preparing with Avery. She attempts a few times to start conversation but you're barely listening. Eventually she gives up, and works next to you in silence. Your mind is swimming, so much so you don't notice when Anthony calls you over. Avery nudges you, pulling you with her towards the centre of the room.
You stand biting your lip, as Anthony explains what he wants you all to do today. You're barely listening, but hear him mention something about group work. He continues to talk until suddenly he calls your name
"Who do you want first then Y/N?"
Your head snaps up, and you stare at him blankly.
"To work with Y/N, we're taking them off one by one" Avery whispers to you
"Oh...um...I don't know...Sean?" you ask
"Avery has just said she'll take Sean Y/N" Anthony sighs.
He's not yelling yet, but you can tell his patience is wearing thin. Then it dawns on you that you have an opportunity to help find Will.
"Oh sorry I er...I meant James...sorry" you stutter out
Anthony nods, sending Sean and James over to you and Avery before taking the rest of the boys to the other end of the room. You see James whisper something to Charlie and pat his shoulder, but you don't know what he says. He walks over to you smiling. You regret not talking to him more last night, as he seems nice, but you're on a mission today.
"Hey Y/N, excited to get started, thanks for getting me out of those leaps they look terrifying."
You glance over to the other boys. Anthony is showing them a variety of different leaps, developing on their work yesterday. James is right, it looks pretty brutal. You bring James over to the bar, and begin to explain the basics of partner work. He's a good listener, and manages to implement some of it fairly quickly. With a few adjustments, you feel he's ready to try some turns.
You walk him through it slowly. Whilst he's concentrating you take the opportunity to question him about Will.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure, what's up" he replies, his voice strained from holding himself in position
"What were you talking to Will about last night?" you ask gently
James goes silent, continuing to move as instructed. For a moment you think he's just going to ignore your question, but then he takes a deep breath.
"It was quite a personal conversation, from his side I mean. I know you know him better than I do, but I'd still feel a bit wrong telling people without asking him" he replies
He must sense your anxiety, as he relaxes out of position and faces you, looking at you with sincerity.
"Nothing he told me would explain why he isn't here though, I'm assuming that's what you're worried about"
You nod silently. James places his hand on your shoulder and smiles gently.
"Maybe he's just hungover, or he's sick and hasn't had chance to tell anyone. Try not to worry, I'm sure he'll get in touch with you soon" he says reassuringly.
You nod again, trying not to well up. Something still feels really wrong, but maybe James is right. You take a deep breath and continue to teach him. He's gentler than before, listening carefully and speaking softly. You're glad that Will chose to talk to him, even if that means you're left in the dark. You manage to attempt a couple of lifts with varying levels of success, but for turns he's actually a very good partner. When Anthony sends over two new partners for you and Avery, you're almost a bit disappointed to see him leave.
You're joined by Tommy, and you realise as he walks over that you haven't really spoken to him before either. Your mini lesson is quick, mostly because he has no spacial awareness. You make little progress, as he seems terrified to touch you at all during turns but also can't seem to stop bashing his arms into you at the wrong time. You don't attempt trying any lifts, partially because you worry he isn't strong enough, but mostly because you expect he'd drop you. He takes it in his stride though, and doesn't seem too downtrodden by his lack of technical skill.
You work with Toby next. He seems sweet although a little awkward. He's eager to please but lacks the balance or confidence needed to actually accomplish most of the movements you're teaching him. You decide to reframe things, and instead go over some turns for him to do solo. He actually picks these up fairly well, and seems more confident leaving you than he did on arrival.
You wrap up here for lunch, with Anthony stating that we would all be returning to the studio straight after it today. He tries to look stern, but you get the feeling he wasn't too disappointed about the early finish yesterday. You immediately go to your bag to see if Will has messaged you, but your lock screen remains empty. You call him again, stood anxiously next to your bag. As it rings out, you notice Charlie start to head over to you. You give him a faint smile when suddenly you hear the groggy sound of Will's voice.
"Y/N?" he croaks out
You dash out of the room, trying to find somewhere quiet to talk to him. You eventually find yourself in a dark, slightly damp stairwell, stood beneath the stairs themselves.
"Will! Are you okay? Where are you?" you ask. You try and cover the desperation in your voice, but it seeps through anyway.
"I'm okay Y/N, I just needed a bit of space today"
He pauses for a moment "well, space from the studio, to think about stuff...I'm fine though really"
"Do you promise?" you ask, feeling tears well up in your eyes again
"I promise...I think I'll be back tomorrow if I'm doing better, I'm glad I have you though! Love you" he says
"Love you too" you reply, your voice cracking
Will hangs up the phone, leaving you frozen in the stairwell, tears starting to trickle down your cheeks. You feel ridiculous for crying, you know he's safe now but the emotions just seem to overwhelm you, and the relief isn't soothing them like you'd hope. After a few moments, you wipe your face with your hands and do a few deep breaths before you head back to the studio. You assume Avery and the men have gone to get lunch by now, but you don't really feel hungry anyway.
Your suspicions were correct, and the studio is empty upon your return. You decide to take advantage of it. You run through a couple of small variations, but then you walk over and connect your phone to Anthony's speaker. You pick a song at random, and then do something you haven't done in a very long time.
You dance, freely.
No choreography, no partner, no motifs. Just you, moving the way that feels right, connecting to the music. Your emotions spill from you, guiding each limb, controlling you like puppet strings. You are completely lost in it, throwing your entire self into your movements.
Eventually your music stops, and you stop with it. You walk over to the speaker to grab your phone, glancing at the clock on the wall. You have a few minutes until everyone is back, so you turn around, intending to stretch a little. On doing so, you find yourself with an audience, albeit a very small one. Stood over by the door is Charlie, looking at you, wide eyed.
Charlie stares at you, barely blinking, his eyes sparkling as you walk over to him.
"You know I normally charge for performances" you say flatly, although you're smirking at him.
You expect an equally cheeky response, but he doesn't say anything. He just continues to look at you, changing from barely blinking to now blinking rapidly.
"Charlie...you o-" you start to ask when he cuts you off.
"You're like a different person when you do that" he says softly.
You smile at him warmly. You're so used to spending time with dancers, you don't really get compliments unless you're doing something particularly technically challenging. It was nice to be appreciated for something so simple and natural.
At this moment, people start to enter the studio, returning from lunch. You thank Charlie and then walk away to join Avery and share with her your conversation with Will. When you look back several moments later, Charlie has barely moved.
"I'm glad Will is okay, I really do hope he's back tomorrow" Avery says.
"Me too, I was so worried. I still am a little in all honestly" you reply.
Anthony calls you all over. You were expecting him to continue from this morning but it appears his plan has changed. Instead, he explains he wants to start teaching the men some choreography. The idea is that the men do a "final performance" tomorrow to round off their video, and that he's of the opinion they should start learning the piece sooner rather than later.
You get started straight away, guiding the men through the choreography, making small adjustments here and there, but they're handling it very well. It's amazing to see how much progress they've made in such a small space of time. Anthony calls it a day at 4:30, and the studio unsurprisingly clears out pretty quickly, the men do look exhausted. You notice though that Charlie is lingering, and doesn't walk out with the others.
Eventually only him, you and Avery remain in the studio. Avery finishes packing her bag and goes to walk out
"Are you coming Y/N or staying to work on stuff?" she asks brightly. She doesn't even seem to have noticed Charlie is still here
"I'm gonna stay I think, for a little anyway" you reply
She walks out, and as the door closer behind her you turn to Charlie.
"You're not expecting another performance are you? Because I really will charge you this time" you say, laughing.
"No, but it would definitely be worth the money! I was actually wondering if you could teach me the things you did with the others today? I know it's extra work for you, but I'd like to learn" he answers you sweetly.
"Of course I can!" you reply enthusiastically.
You guide Charlie to the centre of the room and explain to him how male dancers support turns, where he needs to place his hands, when to let go and when to hold you. He listens intently, and when you try for the first time it goes really well, considerably better than the others first attempts. You do a few different turns with him, and his confidence grows. His hands are warm against your waist, feeling strong and secure. After a few more, you decide to try and teach him some lifts.
You remember yesterday morning being surprised by his physique, it just doesn't seem to match his personality, but it does make him a fantastic partner. You're hopeful that he'll be able to execute some of the simpler lifts quite well because of this as he seems strong enough. To start, you just get him to lift you straight up whilst you're in fifth. He has his arms wrapped fully around your waist and lifts you with ease. You ask him to try it again, but this time to only have his hands on your waist. This takes him a couple of tries to get right, but he manages it. You continue like this for a while, getting him to lift you higher each time until your hips are about head height on him. He places you down gently, awaiting your next instructions.
"You know, I think we can try something a bit harder, you're doing so well" you smile gently
Charlie smiles back, seeming elated by your praise. You suggest a shoulder sit lift. You pull out your phone and type it in to show him, so he can see what you're aiming for.
"The way you lifted me last time was perfect, so do the same thing again but slightly faster, and when I reach your shoulder pull back slightly so I can sit there" you explain.
"What if I drop you?" Charlie says, nervously.
"Have you dropped me yet?" you reply.
Charlie shakes his head
"Exactly! I trust you Charlie, you won't drop me" you reassure him.
You try the lift a couple of times, but you can feel Charlie holding back. He repeatedly brings you to the height you need but he's doing it too slowly, leaving you without the momentum you both need to get into position.
"Okay, let's take a little break. Your arms must be getting tired, we can try again in a minute" you state.
You walk over to your bag to grab your drink, and Charlie walks with you.
"When you were dancing earlier, how did you do that? Was it something Anthony had taught you or-" Charlie asks, the end of his sentence trailing off.
"No, I just kind of...made it up as I went really. I'd had a bit of a rough morning, and it's quite cathartic to just let yourself move. It's not always the prettiest or the most technical, but it is natural" you reply.
"What happened this morning" Charlie asks earnestly, concern in his eyes
"Will wasn't here, and wasn't answering his phone. I know it probably sounds like nothing, but that's not like him at all. After how he was spoken to yesterday, and I saw him having a really serious conversation with your friend James I guess I just panicked. Will has been through a lot, and he handles it well, but I still worry about him" you answer him, feeling yourself choke up.
"Oh, that's why you picked-" Charlie mumbles, too quietly for you to catch the rest of his comment.
"Is Will okay now? I mean, did you manage to get in touch with him?" he continues, louder.
"Yeah, he finally answered his phone at the start of our lunch break, there must be something going on because he didn't sound good, but at least he's safe" you reply, a stray tear rolling down your cheek.
"Oh...oh hey don't cry...it's okay" Charlie says gently.
He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into him. Your face is in his chest, and you can hear his heart pounding. His one hand is on the back of your head, the other wrapped around your back, and his thumb rubs up and down soothingly against it. You stay like this for a minute or so, before breaking apart. You wipe away a few more escaped tears, and then smile at him, sniffling.
"Shall we try that lift again?" you suggest, smiling weakly.
"Sure" Charlie says warmly, nodding reassuringly at you.
You move back to the middle of the room and try a shoulder sit again. He seems slightly more relaxed this time, still gentle with you, but trusting of his own strength.
On attempt three he does it! You sit on his shoulder proudly, grinning from ear to ear. He slowly brings you down and you are giddy with excitement.
"Charlie that was amazing! Perfect! Really, you did so well!" you exclaim, practically shouting, half tackling him into a hug.
When you pull away, Charlie smiles sheepishly. You can tell he's proud of himself, but your praise must have made him embarrassed because his cheeks have turned pink. You repeat the lift, and he does it perfectly again. He lowers you and you're elated.
"Maybe you should be a teacher after all" he grins.
"Alas, unless all of my students are you I don't think I'll get very far! You're the only person that's managed it" you laugh gently.
You glance up at the wall next to you and notice the time, it's 7pm.
"Oh my goodness is that the time? Come on you, we should probably head out, you've got a big performance tomorrow after all" you tease.
Charlie looks a touch disappointed, but grabs his bag and follows you out of the studio. You chat to each other as you leave, before parting to head home.
The crisp autumn air hits you harder once Charlie has walked off. You walk to your bus stop and stand there shivering, when you hear your phone ping.
Message from @ slmccl: Note to self - Buy a new jacket :D
You chuckle and reply
Message from @ Y/N: Note to self - Release Charlie's jacket from it's imprisonment in your home tomorrow morning
You slip your phone back in your pocket as your bus pulls up. You get on, and sit next to the window. It's dark now, but the bus is surprisingly warm. Whilst on the bus, Charlie messages you again. You reply, and this continues back and forth for your entire journey.
Stepping into your home, you notice Charlie's jacket still hung up. You fold it up and put it next to your bag for tomorrow, to make sure you don't forget it.
You start to wind down for the evening and stroll into your kitchen to make yourself dinner. For the sake of time, you choose pasta, and continue to message Charlie whilst you cook. Eventually you sit down on your sofa to eat. You put on Netflix but don't even end up picking a show, it just sits on the home screen whilst you stare at your phone. You don't notice how much time has passed until you hear your neighbours car pull onto the driveway. She works nights, which is a good sign you needed to go to bed several hours ago.
You check the time and realise you need to get ready to go to work. You trudge upstairs, dropping your dirty bowl into the kitchen sink as you pass, before hopping in the shower.
The water wakes you up somewhat, feeling a little more refreshed as you step out of the shower. You get ready to go and walk out the door to your bus stop. The tiredness has made you groggy, so you don't realise until you're already on the bus that you've left your bag at home, along with Charlie's jacket.
Message from @ Y/N: Note to self - Actually sleep on an evening so you remember to bring Charlie's jacket with you đŹ
Almost instantly you receive a reply
Message from @ slmccl: Operation jacket retrieval is go, commencing Y/N hunting protocol >:o
You chuckle, leaning back in your seat, looking forward to seeing everyone today when it hits you...it's their last day.
yandere! bruce wayne x reader x yandere! clark kent
word count: 10k
synopsis: you've been cooped up in wayne manor for the past few months, courtesy of your new lovers. they've decided it's finally time to take your relationship to the next level whether you're ready or not.
You thought the silent treatment could save you. The childish shame and embarrassment that was aroused in you every time they twisted your words was crushing you. Two brilliant minds working in tandem to make you feel as small as they saw you. The good cop, bad cop dynamic rehearsed by Bruce and Clark left no room for your opinion. Arguing was pointless when all roads led to the same point, the feeling of heat rushing to your cheeks as you accepted defeat. You felt they were hammering a point home to you â you were to be seen and not heard.Â
Your silence only made them more eager to correct you.Â
Your defeat in your circumstances was palpable, but you were determined to keep your sorrow to yourself. You thought they would be satisfied with your depressive acceptance, but they were determined to drag you out of that hole every time you tried to make peace with it. They wouldnât even let you slowly rot away without their input, telling you it was this exact reason that they took it upon themselves to care for you. Escape was impossible; they made certain of it. You really tried to believe that you were just sparing yourself some pain by not fighting back.Â
Monday nights were the nights they promised to make time for you. A day where they would come home from their day jobs and play pretend with domesticity and normalcy. You were expected to play house, too, dressing up beyond your pajamas and sweatpants. They still have yet to give you a real pair of shoes, though.Â
You were sitting on the couch in between them, back nestled into Clarkâs right side and feet outstretched into Bruceâs lap. They had positioned you the moment they sat down, hardly leaving enough space to breathe. The three of you were in Bruceâs study, listening to his old jazz vinyls as you nursed your drink.Â
Bruce swirled a neat Whiskey in a glass, unsipped, as he rubbed the heel and ball of your socked foot with his free hand. Clark had a hot chocolate, same as you, that was sitting on the coffee table, untouched. His right arm was slung over your shoulder while his left hand held yours, kneading his thumb into your palm. You held your mug close to you, keeping your mouth busy in hopes of not cracking under the pressure of Clarkâs stare.Â
âHow was your day, honey?â Clark asked with a soft smile, resting his head next to yours on the back couch cushion.Â
You shrugged, continuing to stare at the roaring fireplace in front of you. What was there to say to them? That you had lain around the manor all day, dreading the minutes until they came home? That you were steeling yourself to refuse to speak to them for another day? Bruce cleared his throat, looking up from your foot, and rested your toes in his palm. They tolerated non-answers less than wrong answers.Â
You looked over at Bruce, unable to hold your gaze with his before settling to look down at his lap. He had taken off his sports coat when he came home and was sitting with his dress shirt undone, three buttons and sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Clark had foregone his jacket and dress shirt entirely, wearing nothing but his slacks and his white undershirt. They both took their belts off in front of you. You were wearing a mockneck bodysuit and a long skirt with a pair of white socks.Â
You had started the day with more clothes, too, that they slowly began to peel off you. There was no need for a sweater, Bruce had said. The fireplace was waiting for you. Did you really need stockings on? Clark had asked. Layers in the house werenât necessary. Piece by piece, they dressed you and themselves down until you assumed nothing would be left.Â
âClark asked you a question,â Bruce said, sliding his hand up your leg to rest just under the hem of your skirt.Â
You looked back at the fireplace and just sighed, setting your drink down next to Clarkâs still steaming mug. Shrugging again and sighing, you rested your head against the cushion next to Clark and looked at him. You hoped your moping act would help them drop the subject â puppy eyes always worked on Clark. To him, you had no bark or bite.Â
Clarkâs gaze didnât linger on you. The look they shared had you feeling queasy. They were so hard to read, but you could always tell when they were thinking â especially when they were thinking the same thing. Your quietness had run its course with them. Youâre sure youâve only made it this far because Clark told Bruce to let you work it out yourself. But youâve learned that Clarkâs patience runs much thinner when Bruce is in his ear. They were planning on making you talk; you just didnât know how.Â
Bruceâs hand rubbed circles into your calf, slowly inching towards your thigh. He set his drink down next to yours, settling his free hand back on your foot. You closed your eyes and inhaled slowly, trying not to let panic seep into your bones. It was Clark who was touchy like this, yet he seemed content to keep his hands to himself for once and just watch. Bruce gently slid his hand under your sock, making it down to the ball of your foot before wiggling your sock off. You fought off a shiver of ticklishness and swallowed harshly.Â
Clark pressed his forehead to yours, humming softly as he brought the hand he was massaging up to his mouth. He pressed a tender kiss on the tip of your pinky, still rubbing his thumb into the flesh of your palm. An easy smile reached his eyes as he kissed his way down your fingers. After he reached your thumb, he closed his eyes and placed your hand over his mouth, chastely kissing your palm.Â
Bruce brought your ankle to his lips, placing a wet kiss there. His hand was warm and weathered, heating your skin up through the fabric. Your skirt slid down to your upper thigh as Bruce put your heel on his left shoulder. His hand caressed the backside of your calf, slowly inching closer towards your inner thigh. You shuddered as a chill ran all up your spine. You stretched your back uncomfortably, settling away from him. You were desperate not to let yourself melt into the false sense of security their arms offered.Â
âBruceâs hands always run cold, donât they?â Clark mused, kissing your wrist.Â
Bruce let out a throaty chuckle and nodded, pressing a kiss to your knee cap. He leaned closer, spreading your left leg over his right thigh and hooking his left arm under your right knee. You understood the game they were playing now. If you were going to play by their rules and win, youâd have to choose your words very carefully.Â
âWhat are you doing?â You questioned quietly, looking at Bruce warily.
âNothing you wonât like.âÂ
Clark maneuvered you to fully sit in his lap, facing Bruce, kissing up your arm until his chin rested on your shoulder. His arms held your waist in place as Bruce kissed down to your inner thigh. It was a test. You knew that they knew you understood that now. The only question was how far you were going to let it go. Bruce unclipped the body suit snaps over your panties, letting his fingers graze under the hem on your right hip.Â
âDonâtâŠâ You whispered, placing your hand over his wrist.Â
Bruce looked up at you through lidded eyes, letting his lips brush against your hip. âDonât what?âÂ
âLet him make you feel good?â Clark chimed in, taking your hand in his and away from Bruce.Â
âDonât touch me there.â You said with a little more confidence.Â
âHere?â Bruce chuckled, placing a kiss over your navel.Â
You inhaled softly, arching your back towards Clarkâs chest. These were dangerous waters you were treading in. Youâre certain that with all the surveillance Bruce did on you before they took you, he, at least, knew you were a virgin. Hell, you hadnât even had your first kiss yet, and here Bruce was in between your legs, waiting to devour you.Â
âWhat about here?â Bruceâs hand slid back to your ass, squeezing a handful of it in his hand.Â
His callouses were rough against you as he kneaded your flesh in his hand. You shook your head, trying to dig your nails into Clarkâs hand with no avail.Â
âIâŠI donât want you to touch me at all.â You finally confessed. You could only hope you told him what he wanted to hear.Â
âOh, honey,â Clark sighed sweetly. âIf you wanted me to touch you instead, all you had to do was ask.âÂ
Clark took both of your wrists into his right hand as he kissed along your throat and wrapped his arm around your waist to press you flush against him. Bruce retreated and relaxed against the couch, content to abide by your interpreted wishes. Clark kissed up to your cheek, letting his pecks slowly inch towards your lips.Â
âWait!â You cried, turning to look at Clark with desperate eyes. âWait, please.âÂ
âHave you decided you want Bruce after all?â Clark whispered, lips ghosting just barely above yours.Â
âIâŠâ What could you possibly say in your defense? âI donât think either of you will want me.âÂ
âIf that were true, we have a funny way of showing it.â Clark chuckled, chasing your lips slowly as you leaned your head back.Â
âDonât make assumptions.â Bruce said coolly. âIf you want to know how we feel, just ask us.âÂ
âIâm not trying to, Iâm justâŠbeing realistic.â You sighed. Youâd never ask them, not wanting an even further look into their deranged delusions.
âRealistic?â Clark chuckled. âIâm just itching to jump your bones, and you think we donât want you.âÂ
âYou said âwill want meâ.â Bruce noticed. âIs there something you think we donât already know?âÂ
You look at Bruce, swallowing nervously. Clark settled to press kisses along your temple and hairline, rubbing his hands up and down your waist.Â
âNo!â You defended. Secrets were a cardinal sin with them. âIâm just not sure youâll want someone asâŠinexperienced as me.âÂ
âThink our boyscout is as innocent as he seems?â Bruce smirked. Your apparent gap in experience only made your stomach churn further.
âThatâs just the way we like it, weâll be your first and onlys.â Clark mused, letting his kisses move back down towards your lips. âYou think our playboy canât handle a virgin?âÂ
âWe adore you, you know you canât deny that,â Bruce replied earnestly.Â
âI mean,â You laughed nervously, placing your hands on Clarkâs chest to hold him back. âI havenât even had myââ Clarkâs eyes light up at the prospect.âMy, uh, first kiss.â Your confidence died in your throat, barely finishing the sentence with a whisper.Â
âThatâs okay,â Clark smiled, all teeth. He looked like a predator waiting to strike at his innocent prey. âWe can teach you.âÂ
Bruceâs hand softly stroked the underside of your calf. âWhy?â
Clark maneuvered you off his lap, scooching you both over closer to Bruce. You sat shoulder to shoulder with them both, Bruce keeping your feet in his lap and Clark beginning to stroke your hand again. They let you take your time to answer, watching the gears turn in your mind, trying to find any excuse you thought they would find acceptable.Â
âWell, you both know Iâve never had a boyfriend beforeâŠyou two.â You stared at the fireplace in front of you. What were they to you now? Boyfriends? Husbands? Captors? Owners?Â
âWeâre your partners now, sweetheart. Nothing is ever going to change that.â Clark reassured.Â
âYou donât need a boyfriend to have sex.â Bruce challenged, quirking a brow. Of course he knew all about that. Youâd jab it at him if you thought it would make a difference.
âIâm not the hookup type.â You shrugged, feeling the discomfort of the topic rise in you.Â
You werenât less than just because you didnât have the notches in your bedpost the way they did. You were doing your very best to refuse becoming one of theirs.
âWaiting for someone special?â Clark whispered in your ear. Naturally, Clark was more sentimental about these things than Bruce was.Â
âThe opportunity just never came up.â You replied. A lie of omission technically wasnât a lie, but you knew it wouldnât slide with them.
âYouâll have plenty of opportunities with us.â Bruce smirked.Â
âIsnât âI donât knowâ an answer?â You huffed exasperatedly.Â
âNot if you donât have a good enough reason,â Bruce said matter-of-factly. âYouâre afraid.âÂ
âNow youâre making assumptions.â You spat back.Â
âItâs not an assumption if itâs a fact, my love.â Bruce quirked a brow. âYouâve been afraid since you first came here.âÂ
Of course, you were afraid. But of what exactly? Afraid they would expect more than you could give? Afraid that youâll be nothing more than a sex slave to them? Afraid that you were becoming complicit in your own captivity? Afraid it would hurt? Afraid it wouldnât?Â
Youâd be damned if you showed them your fear.Â
âItâs okay to admit that youâre afraid, sweetheart. Youâre safe with us.â Clark soothed.Â
âHave we done anything to show you otherwise?â Bruce asked.Â
It was true. You knew it, and they knew it, and you hated that they knew you knew it. Theyâve never been physical with you, never raised their voice, never neglected you. In any other circumstance, people would gush over what doting gentlemen you had.Â
âMaybe she needs to see how gentle we can be with her.â Clark offered, picking you up bridal style with one arm and tucking you close to him.
You yelped at the sudden upheaval, wrapping your arms around his neck for stability. Bruce was quick to follow both of you as Clark led the way back to the manorâs master bedroom. Clark hummed a gentle tune as Bruce opened the door and beckoned you both inside with an outstretched arm.Â
Clark sat you down at the edge of the bed. You folded your arms across your chest as you watched the two of them strip. Clark took off his shirt with one hand and stretched his arms towards the ceiling, fingers intertwined. He let out a pleased hum, sending you a smile. He made quick work to help Bruce out of his dress shirt and left him to remove his undershirt. Clark dropped to his knees and placed his hands on Bruceâs thighs, unzipping Bruceâs pants with his teeth.Â
The burn from your cheeks spread all the way down to your chest. Your fingertips tingled with anticipation. You squeezed yourself tighter, swallowing harshly. Clark looked right at you as Bruceâs pants pooled around his ankles. He licked a long stripe against Bruceâs erection, smiling sharply when you looked up at Bruce nervously.Â
Bruce ran a hand through Clarkâs curly locks, tugging them to bring his head back. Clark looked up at Bruce expectantly and stood when Bruce cupped his chin to kiss him. The kiss was heated and passionate, teeth and tongues already knocking against each other. Bruce stepped out of his pants and kicked them away, leaving him shirtless in his black boxers. He held his hand against the back of Clarkâs neck and reached his other hand to shimmy the man out of his slacks.Â
Bruce slipped a hand into Clarkâs white boxers, palming him and giving him a gentle squeeze. He groaned loudly into Bruceâs mouth and tugged on his bottom lip with his teeth. Clark looked at you while Bruce started to kiss down his neck, biting and sucking harshly on his skin. He motioned for you to come over with a gentle wave of his hand, holding it out for you to take.Â
You stood up from the bed and waited for a moment, burrowing your arms further against yourself. If you showed that you would come freely when called, if you were willing to try, then maybe, you hoped, they would have mercy on you.Â
You took Clarkâs hand, keeping your other arm tight around your chest. He rubbed his thumb over your knuckles in a soothing motion and gave you a gentle smile. You were sure he could feel just how much you were shaking. You could no longer tell if it was from fear or anticipation; maybe it was a mix of both. Bruceâs free hand wrapped around your waist and herded you in between them.Â
âYouâre making her nervous,â Clark said, cocking his head at Bruce. âHer heart is racing.â
He gently grasped the hand covering your chest and pulled it away, placing it over his to steady you with his calm heartbeat. His palm draped the back of your hand, holding it in place. Bruceâs arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you flush against his chest. His chin rested on your shoulder as he ghosted his lips up your neck and behind your ear. Clark brought your other hand up to his lips again, kissing your palm and closing his eyes.Â
âDonât worry,â Bruce whispered in your ear. âHe doesnât bite.âÂ
âNot unless you say please,â Clark murmured into your palm, looking back down at you as he kissed your wrist.Â
Bruceâs hands slipped under the elastic band of your skirt, laying his palms flat against your hips.Â
âYouâre so tense,â Bruce said, rubbing circles with his thumbs into your hips. âLet us help you get comfortable.âÂ
He pushed your skirt down, letting it pool around your ankles. Clark grasped the hem of your body suit and pulled it up over your head, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. Bruceâs hands cupped you in between your legs, making you gasp as he ran a finger along your wetness.Â
âYouâre soaked, lovely,â Bruce smirked. âDid you like watching us?âÂ
You gulped, looking away from both of them. The heat in your cheeks burned brighter. Back to square one, you were at a loss for words. The men stepped away from you, taking their places on the large, plush bed. Bruce sat up against the headboard, propping one knee up and resting his left arm against the wood. Clark lay next to him on his side, propping himself up with his right elbow. Their eyes roamed you freely as you stood in the same spot they left you in. Your arms quickly found their place against your chest again.Â
âFeeling shy?â Clark asked, tracing circles into the sheets with his index finger. âCome here.â
âMaybe she wants us to continue our little show.â Bruce mused, holding his right hand out to you.Â
You stared at the ground as you padded over. It wasnât anything they hadnât seen before. It was nothing you hadnât seen before, either. It never got easier when they stripped.Â
You shakily took Bruceâs hand and crawled into the space in between them. Your arms were squished against their chest as you held your hands in your lap, twiddling your thumbs nervously. You stared straight up at the high ceiling, trying to count the folds in the canopy draped over the bed. It was a lovely shade of forest green, dark and inviting. A perfect shadow to hide in.Â
Clarkâs hand started tracing circles on your stomach. Bruceâs left hand came to rest on your tense shoulders, slowly easing them from being hunched up to your ears.Â
âBeautiful,â Clark murmured, ghosting his lips over your shoulder. âIsnât she, Bruce?âÂ
âStunning. Itâs a miracle no one got their hands on her before we did.â Bruce agreed, stroking a thumb under your chin. âPretty girl like you deserves to be kissed, well and often.âÂ
âOur pretty girl,â Clark whispered, kissing up under your chin and nipping softly at your skin. âAll ours.â
Clark dipped back down to your collarbone, leaving wetter kisses before licking a stripe up from your clavicle to your chin. All pretense of chaste affection was out the window â they were hungry for you, and Clark was tired of pretending he wasnât.Â
âStill feeling afraid?â Bruce asked. âWeâll take it slow, sweetheart.âÂ
Slow. They had no intentions of stopping. It was no longer an if; it was simply a matter of when.Â
âI told you Iâm not afraid.â You shot back, hardly able to believe yourself with the way you sounded.Â
âThen show us.âÂ
Bruceâs right hand smoothed over Clarkâs thigh. His hands were rough and scarred, knuckles hardened from years of fighting. Scars littered his body beyond his hands. His deepest scars were beneath the surface, somewhere deep and dark that not even you or Clark seemed to reach. You assume heâs never let anyone. Sometimes, you think he takes all the hits he does in order to remind himself of the real pain he refuses to let himself feel.
Bruce looked at you intensely as he palmed Clarkâs erection. He was studying you. Your nervousness was one thing, he knew it well. But your bashful arousal was a new frontier. You kept staring at the ceiling, knowing you would crumble if you looked over at him. He was handsome in a way that made you nervous if you looked at him for too long, like a long-lost movie star from the Golden Age. His charm was effortless, a well-rehearsed charade that flustered you more than it seduced you. He exuded command that made it hard to say no to him, as if his disappointment would devastate you.Â
Unlike Bruce, Clark didnât have a scratch on him. His skin was smooth and flawless, as if he were carved straight from marble in the likeness of an ancient god. He was handsome in a way that was almost insulting. He could hide it well. His patience was almost as impenetrable as he was. It made him hard to read at first, but heâs let cracks of his other emotions seep through the longer youâve been with him. You assumed he was too worried about frightening you with anything other than his fairweather optimism. Easy eyes and kind smiles with stupid dimples that put you at ease when you should be on alert. A wolf in sheepâs clothing. An extraterrestrial and uncanny Adonis. Â
Clark moaned against your skin, letting his teeth graze you as he jutted his hips against Bruceâs hand. He was careful, cautious with you despite his desire. You hadnât said please yet. Bruce slipped his hand into Clarkâs briefs and pulled out his leaking erection. Clarkâs right arm stopped propping him up as he slid it under your neck and settled on the pillows next to you.Â
âLook at him,â Bruce instructed, tilting your cheek towards Clark. âIsnât he so handsome?âÂ
Swallowing nervously, you turn to look at Clark. A small flush left his cheeks tinted pink. His eyes were shut in pleasure as Bruce continued to stroke him. His eyes were half-lidded as he looked at you. You nodded slowly in agreement.
âHi, gorgeous,â Clark whispered, using the arm under you to turn your body fully onto his side towards him.Â
He moved his hand from your stomach to cup your cheek. It seemed they were in silent agreement that Clark would take your first kiss. You wonder if they had this planned out. If they did, they werenât keen on sharing their plans. The element of surprise served them well.Â
âHi,â You whispered back, staring at his lips.Â
Who were you kidding, of course they did. They didnât leave anything to chance.Â
They didnât have to do this for you, you thought. They didnât have to let you take it slow. They didnât have to wait until you were comfortable with their innocent affection. They could have taken you the first night they brought you back, and it would have never made a difference to them. They were giving you plenty of chances, and you have given them almost none.Â
Clarkâs hips thrusted into Bruceâs hands as he moaned again. He pressed kisses into your hairline by your temples, whimpering softly when Bruce squeezed him.
âStop jerking your hips,â Bruce commanded, looking at Clark before resuming at a faster pace. âHands to yourself.âÂ
Clark gasped and pressed his face into your hair, hips tense with obedience. Clarkâs hands retreated behind his back, chest heaving. Bruceâs other hand settled on the back of your neck, stroking up the side gently.Â
âSee? He can behave himself,â Bruce reassured, whispering gently in your ear. âHeâll listen to you if you tell him what you want.âÂ
You placed your hand over Clarkâs cheek and pulled back from him slightly to look straight at him. His eyes were heavy with need as he looked at you. His bottom lip was caught in his teeth as he bit back a moan. You could still be in control; you could make this happen on your own terms.Â
âClark,â You said shakily. You kept the last shred of courage you had and maintained eye contact with him. âIf you want to kiss me, you can.âÂ
Clark hardly let you finish your sentence before he gave you a deep kiss, nuzzling his cheek into your hand. You gasped at his intensity, closing your eyes as you let him kiss you breathless. The second kiss was sweeter, softer. You could feel his restraint as he slowed down, groaning lowly against your lips. He was desperate to ravage you, but he was willing to go at your speed. That had to count for something, right?Â
Bruceâs hand stopped pumping and grabbed yours, replacing it on Clarkâs hardness. Clark whimpered against your lips, letting out a breathy gasp. He moaned out your name lowly, shutting his eyes again.Â
Your movements were stiff and awkward, clearly unused to the motions. Clark didnât seem to hold it against you.Â
âHoney, ah!â Clark breathed out, gritting his teeth when you started moving your hand. âMaking me feel so good.âÂ
Bruceâs hand slipped over your underwear, pressing his index finger against your wetness.Â
ââCourse youâre not afraid,â Bruce mused, sliding his hand under the elastic band. âHow are we supposed to trust what you say when your body is willing to tell us the truth?âÂ
Bruceâs middle finger brushed against your clit, causing you to tense your hips and flinch. You whined into Clarkâs mouth, gasping when you felt his tongue brush against yours. Bruceâs hand on your neck kept you in place when you tried to move your head back.Â
âRelax,â Bruce instructed softly. âJust open up.âÂ
You whined again, turning your head to the side. This was happening too fast; you werenât prepared to deal with both of them for your first time. Clarkâs kisses had left you lightheaded and malleable, slowly kissing away your doubts with each pass of his lips. They could twist your words, but you refused to let them twist your judgment.Â
You pushed your hands against Clarkâs chest and broke away for a breath, starting to feel sobs bubbling in your throat. You tried to suck in a few deep breaths and take a beat, but Clark dove back in for a wet kiss to your trembling lips, letting his tongue swipe against you again.Â
You pulled your hands away from Clark and sat up quickly away from them, frantically breathing and pushing your hair away from your face. Tears were welling in your eyes as you let out hiccuping breaths.Â
Bruce was quick to sit behind you, locking you in place between his legs. He placed his hands on your shoulder and brushed some hair behind your ear. Clark sat up in front of you, cupping your face with one hand and placing the other over your heart.
Bruce rubbed soothing circles into your shoulders as you breathed with Clark. Some stray tears had fallen, and Clark was quick to kiss them away.Â
âDeep breaths,â Bruce said softly. âJust like that.âÂ
Your hyperventilation had slowed to slow, hiccuping breaths as they soothed you.Â
âI-I donât think Iâm ready for this.â You whimpered.Â
âYou were doing so well.â Bruce praised, letting his hand rub over your shoulder blades.Â
You shook your head, closing your eyes and resting against Clarkâs chest.
âTalk to us,â Clark said, pulling you in close to lay your ear over his heart. âDid it not feel good?âÂ
Bruce petted a hand over your head as you hid your face in Clark, still taking shuddering breaths.Â
âI don't want to do this.â You mumbled. A desperate Hail Mary.Â
âOh, honey,â Clark sighed. âWe all know that's not true.â
âYou were so wet when you watched us,â Bruce whispered in your ear. âYou liked it. Thereâs no use in denying it.âÂ
Your heart fell just as far as it did the first time Bruce told you that you werenât going to leave the manor. It was something that was not up for discussion. Tears threatened to spill again.Â
âWhatâs really going on?â Clark implored, resting his cheek against your hair.
Honesty might save you for once if they believed it was the truth.Â
âIt was just moving too fast,â You let out with shuddering breaths. âBruce held my head down and-âÂ
Bruce shushed you again, not wanting you to work yourself up a second time.Â
âOkay,â He whispered against your hair, placing a kiss on the crown of your head.Â
âOur poor girl,â Clark sighed. âWe scared you, didnât we?âÂ
You shook your head against Bruceâs hand, letting out a sigh of defeat. Something about admitting your fear enticed them, and you refused to play into their hand. Not going through with this was off the table; you were certain about that now. You knew they were patient men; they were willing to take it at your speed. Did you really want to escalate it further? Were you willing to see how long their patience would last?Â
âYouâve barely given it a chance,â Bruce said, letting his hand rub over your shoulder blades. âDonât worry about us. Just lie back, weâll take good care of you.âÂ
âLetâs try again,â Clark hummed in agreement and whispered close to you, âNo more tears in those pretty eyes, âkay?â
You nodded again and sat up between them, using the heel of your palms to wipe the last of your tears away. You bit back another shuddering breath, holding onto Clarkâs hand on your chest. You could do thisâŠright? You could do it unsure, you could do it nervously, you could do it scared. You could do this if it meant they didnât have to hold you down to get it done.Â
Clarkâs hand on your cheek caressed your face and settled on your chin, resting it between his thumb and index finger. He smiled at you with an unmistakably sharp look in his eyes. Heâs pleased youâre willing, but you know that if you werenât, it wouldnât have made much difference to him. His thumb stroked over your chin as he tilted it up to look at him. He shared a brief look with Bruce before leaning down to kiss your still-wet eye.Â
Bruceâs hand slid down from your back and settled on your hip as he kissed the back of your neck. Clark closed his eyes and leaned in for another kiss. You held your breath as he kissed you chastely, sweeter and slower than the other kisses. He kissed you as if it were the tender love and care you so desperately needed. He peeked at you through his eyelashes, seeing that you had closed your eyes too and were letting out slow, deep breaths.Â
âGood girl,â Bruce murmured against your neck, kissing the skin softly there. âKeep breathing just like that. Itâll help you.âÂ
Bruceâs hand slid over your hip fully and dipped between your legs. You gasped softly in Clarkâs mouth and curled your fingers slightly against his chest. Clarkâs lips twitched slightly in restraint, continuing to lay kisses on the bottom lip of your parted mouth. Bruceâs hand cupped you entirely, pressing the heel of his palm against your clit. Your hips jerked away from his hand, but Bruceâs straddling you from behind kept you in place. Even the pressure from his palm was too much for you; every touch against your skin left electricity in its wake. No matter how shameful it felt to admit, you knew you wouldnât last long against them.
âShh,â He soothed, kissing under your ear. âYouâre okay. Just let us make you feel good.âÂ
âHeâll make all your worries melt away, youâll see.â Clark hummed in agreement against your lips. âDonât be difficult, now.â
Bruceâs hand continued to grind into you as you let out a soft whine. Toys had never even felt as good as Bruceâs teasing. You were ashamed to feel as good as you did. Your hand flew up to your mouth, making him press his hand down even harder. Clark took it away and held both your wrists against him.Â
âNone of that,â Clark scolded and pressed your hands back on his chest. âYou let us hear that pretty voice loud and proud.âÂ
âTrust me, lovely.â Bruce chuckled, putting his hand into your wet panties. âClark would be too happy to make you really scream for us. Heâs like a dog with a bone when it comes to you.âÂ
âWoof.â Clark teased in a low voice.Â
Bruceâs finger slowly circled your clit as you bit back a moan. Clark took your swollen lip from under your teeth and put it between his own, sucking gently when you moaned again. Bruceâs movements were slow and teasing, giving you just enough to feel the tingle in your spine but not enough to get you anywhere.Â
Clark swiped his tongue over your lip before sealing your lips in a hot kiss. You whined into his mouth, grateful for the way his tongue muffled your pathetic sounds. You relaxed your hips against Bruce and flattened your palms shakily against Clarkâs chest. They were trying to keep the mood light, ease the tension from your hunched shoulders and arched hips. The least you could do for yourself was return the favor.Â
Bruceâs kisses became wetter as he sucked and nibbled on your collarbone, leaving tender marks in his wake. His fingers slipped down to tease the wetness between your folds, stroking gently. You sighed into Clarkâs mouth and forced yourself to rest in the palm on your cheek. Clark was right, if you really got yourself to relax, you could forget yourself for just a moment. Forget your circumstances, forget that you donât have a say in your own life anymore.Â
You could forget all that for now, but you knew better. Tomorrow is a different story. Youâll try to forget how good Bruceâs fingers were at making you feel pleasure you didnât even know was possible. Youâll try to forget how dizzying Clarkâs kisses were. Youâll try to forget how addicting their devotion and desire were in your isolation.Â
Clarkâs free hand slipped in your panties over Bruceâs, toying his middle finger through your folds before dipping into you. You cried out softly as he did, earning pleased groans from both men. The two of them shared a look over your shoulder before kissing each other next to your ear. It was heated and messy, causing heat to pool in your stomach at their pleased sounds.Â
Your back arched away from Bruce as Clark curled his finger inside of you, making a slow inching motion. Your legs began to tremble as they squeezed shut around Clarkâs thigh. You bit back another moan as you pressed your back to Bruceâs chest. Clark was reaching places you never even dreamed of, dragging out pleasure you didnât even know was possible with each curl. You were close already. Clark let out a low sound when you clenched around him, and Bruce hummed in kind.Â
âEager little thing,â He cooed, pressing his forehead against yours and staring at your wide eyes. âFeeling good so good, arenât you?âÂ
You yelped in pleasure when Bruce gently pinched your clit and rolled it between his fingers. Clarkâs finger pumped in and out of you at a steady pace, keeping a curling motion as he dragged them against your walls. You couldnât even think to hold back your moans anymore as you writhed between them.Â
âI think sheâs close.â Bruce teased with a smirk, looking at Clark. Your hips just against their fingers as you whined. âAnd she said she didnât want this.âÂ
Bruce tilted your head back by your chin and kissed you deeply, drinking in the soft sighs and whines you let out. Your hips rut in between them, caught in a dance between Bruceâs caresses and Clarkâs pumping. He broke the kiss off and looked down at you through heavy eyelids, cooing when you let out a soft whimper. Your eyes screwed shut as the pleasure began to override you, making you moan shamelessly.Â
âThatâs it,â Clark urged. âGood girl, let it out.âÂ
You wailed and let out a loud cry as your body tensed, shaking as your orgasm ripped through you. Bruce let out a pleased groan as you collapsed against him, riding out the waves of pleasure as they whispered sweet nothings to you. Clarkâs lips quirked as he felt you squeeze tightly around his fingers. They guided you through it, only stopping their motions when you whimpered and shook in overstimulation.Â
A stray tear had fallen down your cheek as you opened your eyes to look up at Bruce. He was still looking right back at you, pressing a sweet kiss to your trembling lips. You kissed back, whining when he pulled away. The haze of your satisfaction had your wires crossed. Your afterglow had you feeling a sense of peace you didnât even know you could get back.
âWell done, love.â He praised, pulling his hand out of your panties.Â
Bruce raised his fingers to Clarkâs lips, moving them slowly in and out of his mouth as he sucked greedily. Clark pulled his finger out of you and raised it up to Bruceâs lips, pumping it slowly out of his mouth. You watched as you tried to catch your breath, letting out little whimpers as you adjusted your posture.Â
The reality of your situation was starting to trickle back in as the two of them parted above you. It was a foolâs errand to believe you had any power over the situation. You handed yourself over as soon as they asked you. You let your inhibitions get lost in their twisted sense of affection and care. Worst of all, you liked it. You liked forgetting the circumstances that led to the current entanglement. You liked forgetting that they werenât your lovers by choice. You liked forgetting that you were all but held down to get here.Â
Bruce smoothed his hands over your tensing shoulders and moved you to lie with him. He propped himself up against the headboard again and shimmied you up to lie on his chest with your back to him. Clark crawled in between your legs, staring up at you with an easy smile.Â
âAbsolutely soaked for us,â He murmured, placing a wet kiss over your belly button. âTasted so good on Bruceâs fingers.âÂ
Clark worked you out of your panties and tossed them off the side of the bed. You shifted anxiously against Bruce, who held you in place with a warm hand on your chest. Clark kicked his own boxers off, leaving both you and him fully naked.Â
âYouâre doing so well, beautiful,â Bruce whispered in encouragement, kissing your ear gently. âDonât stop now.âÂ
Clark hiked your knees over his shoulders as he settled between yours and Bruceâs legs. You shifted nervously again, gasping when he blew cold air over your wetness. You were hardly ready to go all the way; you only hoped they felt the same way. He chuckled as he placed wet kisses trailing down your right thigh, caressing your thighs as they rested on his shoulders.Â
âDonât tease her, Clark,â Bruce chuckled. âSheâs been so good for us. Doesnât she deserve her reward?â
Bruce hooked his arms under your knees and pressed your legs up to your chest. He tucked you close to him, folding you up as much as he could. You gasped, feeling your flush and shame come back twice fold at your absolute exposure. They were more than eager to prepare you for them, which you could feel immensely grateful for. You just hated that it cost you more of your dignity that you thought was all but gone.Â
Clarkâs warm hands gripped your ass and squeezed gently before he spread you open. He looked up at you as he placed a small kiss over your clit, making you whimper and gasp from the sensitivity. You squirmed as you looked down at Clark, who looked you straight in the eye as he laid a wet kiss with his tongue against the nub. You gasped softly again as his tongue took a long, slow swipe up your wet folds.
Clark hummed against you as he took your clit in his mouth and began to suck gently, shaking his head. You whined as his entire mouth enveloped you, becoming more feverish in his movements the louder you became. He was moving against you like a man who had been starved of you his entire life.Â
Your hands flew down to the curly locks tussling between your legs and threaded your fingers through them. Clark moaned in response, pushing his tongue in deeper into you and letting his canines scrape against you gently. You cried out and pulled at his hair, trying to pull him off of you. Your thighs started to shake in overstimulation as you felt Clark growl against you.Â
âClark!â You yelped, trying to buck your hips away from him.
Bruce held you firmly in place as you struggled in their hold.
âHeâs good with his mouth, isnât he?â Bruce murmured against your temple. âLike I said, a dog with his favorite bone.âÂ
Clark nodded, suckling on your clit as he slowly inched a finger back into you. You gasped breathlessly and went limp against Bruceâs chest, feeling the pleasure start to become borderline painful as Clark added a second finger and curled them both. You clenched tightly around them as he began to pump them in and out of you.Â
âNo,â You whined pathetically, feeling the noise rise again in your throat as you shook your head. âIâm gonna come again.âÂ
âThatâs okay,â Bruce said. âYou can come as many times as you want.âÂ
Clark was spurred by your begging and continued in his ministrations, letting out a low moan as he rocked his hips against the bed. You tugged at his hair again, but he paid you no mind as he steadfastly brought you closer to your second orgasm. You could do nothing but whine and cry out against Bruceâs chest, feeling tears prick your eyes. You let out a loud, warbling cry as you came against Clarkâs face, feeling your body practically white out with the pleasure ripping through you. You shook violently in Bruceâs arms as you let out a heaving, whining sob, letting a few stray tears fall.Â
You continued to clench around nothing when Clark pulled his fingers out, and your thighs twitched through the aftershocks of your pleasure. Clark placed one final kiss on your wetness before sitting up between your legs. Bruce set your legs back down over his and straddled Clarkâs thighs. You shut your eyes and let out heaving breaths as you whispered a curse to yourself.Â
âYouâre lucky,â Bruce chuckled deeply. âHe let you off easy today.âÂ
Clark kissed your trembling lips deeply, slipping his tongue between your lips as you gasped softly. You tasted yourself on his tongue as you let out a low whimper. Clark moaned in kind, nipping at your lips softly when he pulled away.Â
âAll right, thatâs enough,â Bruce teased, pushing against Clarkâs chest. âYouâve been greedy enough for one evening.âÂ
Clark kissed you sweetly one last time before switching positions with Bruce, handling you gently as they passed you off. You were placed in Clarkâs lap, back pressed flush to his chest. Your legs were spread again, far less so than before. Your feet sat on the outside of Clarkâs knees as you settled against his chest. You watched as Bruce took off his boxers and sat between your legs, completely bare.Â
Your eyes trailed his body as you looked over his scars, some familiar and some new to you. Seeing them up close and uncovered made you realize just how many of them there were. You reached a shaky hand out to his chest as he moved closer between your legs. The scar just below his heart was cut deep; the healed tissue was raised and uneven. Itâs unimaginable to consider what the two of them have survived.Â
You stood absolutely no chance against them unless they wanted you to. It would only take seconds for Bruce to pin you down in an inescapable hold. Clark wouldnât have to try to catch any sudden movements you threw at him. They didnât even need each other to ensure your complete physical submission. Your pleasure overtook you because they wanted you to have it. Your consent was manufactured because they wanted you to believe it. They gain nothing from your approval, yet demand it anyway.Â
When Bruce finally kissed you, you kissed him back. You felt the chap of his lips, the scars from all the times they got busted by a lucky shot. You placed a small kiss over the scar on his cupidâs bow, taking in his pleased hum as he kissed you deeply in response. Maybe they would let you off easy tonight. Maybe theyâve had their fill of you for one evening. Â
Bruceâs finger ghosted over your folds, and you jolted in oversensitivity, clenching down around nothing. He parted from you, licking his lips.Â
âYou ready?â He asked sincerely, caressing your inner thighs with his rough hands.Â
You would never be ready. Ready wasnât a feeling; ready was an action. You trembled slightly with anticipation and nerves, only growing more riled up as Clark gently rubbed your waist. Tears threatened to prick your eyes again as you blinked them away and looked back up at the canopy. There was a slight gold reflex to the green that you hadnât noticed earlier. The sooner this was over, the sooner you could stop pretending to want this. You swallowed and looked at Bruce, willing yourself to relax.Â
You needed to choose to be ready before they decided for you.Â
Bruce shifted his hips closer to yours, thumbing your clit gently as he pressed his thighs against the back of yours. Clark reached over and stroked Bruce slowly, grinning as he groaned lowly. His other hand caressed your midriff, letting his palm spread warmth over you. You felt him rub his tip against your wetness, and your hips tensed up again. Bruceâs hands held your waist as Clark helped line him up. Your right hand shakily gripped Bruceâs wrist, making him look up at you.Â
âBruce,â You pleaded softly through trembling lips. âIâm scared.âÂ
âIâll be gentle,â Bruce promised, placing his hand on yours and rubbing his thumb soothingly over your knuckles. âDo you want to hold my hand?â
A tear falls down your cheek as you nod and shut your eyes. Bruceâs fingers lace with yours as you squeeze tightly, still shaking. He pecked a kiss to the back of your hand and pressed it into the bed.Â
âDonât you worry, honey,â Clark whispered sweetly in your ear, holding your other hand. âBruce is going to take good care of you.â
Bruce used his free hand to give himself one more pump before pressing his tip into you, catching it on your hole as he slowly inched in. You clenched harshly around him as he slid in, adjusting to his size. Ragged breaths made your chest heave sharply as your whole body tensed in anticipation.Â
âShit,â Bruce hissed through his teeth, stopping about halfway. âSqueezing me like this is only going to make it harder.âÂ
Clark pet over your stomach, gently pushing your arching back down onto the bed and forcing you to relax the tension in your hips and waist.Â
âJust relax,â Clark coaxed. âBe good and let him in.âÂ
You forced yourself to relax your thighs, opting to carry all the tension in your shoulders instead. Bruce sighed in relief and continued despite your whimpering whines. The stretch was unlike anything youâd ever experienced, even with Clarkâs fingers earlier. Clark shushed you softly and kissed your temple, murmuring praise.Â
âThatâs it,â Clark praised. âGood girl. Just like that.âÂ
Bruce groaned and clenched his teeth, squeezing your hand slightly as he bottomed out. You let out the breath you held in and squeezed his hand fiercely in return. You involuntarily clenched around him as he stilled in you. He cursed harshly under his breath. His hips trembled in restraint against yours.Â
The stretch was uncomfortable, almost bordering on painful. The fullness was something else entirely. He was consuming your entire being. He was the sweat on your brow, the nerves in your mind, the pleasure pooling in your gut. He was filling you in places you didnât even know existed. He was taking the last piece of yourself that wasnât already declared his.Â
âTaking me so well,â Bruce muttered, resting his forehead on yours. âAbsolutely perfect for me.âÂ
Clark pressed his hand on your stomach, and you whined, gasping at the pressure. He took your left hand and placed it next to his right on your stomach, stroking the back of your palm gently.Â
âYou feel him here?â Clark said softly. âSo deep. He feels so good, doesnât he?âÂ
Clark interlaced his fingers over yours, continuing the pressure. His right hand moved down between your legs and began to slowly circle your clit with his middle finger. Bruce let go of your hand briefly to hook your right leg under his left arm, pressing it up to your chest as he reached back down. He interlaced your fingers with his as he pressed his hips flush to yours, not leaving any gap between the two of you.Â
Your mouth was agape as you let a breathless cry, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of you. A few more tears fell down your face as Bruce pressed himself into you, groaning into the crook of your shoulder as he did. Your back was flush to Clarkâs chest, feeling his hardness rut against you as he moved his hips slowly.Â
Sweat trailed down your back onto Clarkâs stomach as you squeezed Bruceâs hand again. You blinked away more tears and took a big breath, trying to catch your bearings. Being between both of them was beyond overwhelming.Â
âGood girl,â Bruce praised, laying a needy kiss on your shoulder. âKeep breathing just like that. Weâve got you.âÂ
Bruceâs hips slowly rolled back, dragging himself out of you. He was just shy of his tip coming out before he rolled his hips forward in a single, swift motion to plunge himself all the way back in. You gasped and held your breath again, only exhaling when you could no longer hold in your unabashed moan. You were too overwhelmed to give a second thought to any embarrassment you could think to muster.Â
âTell him just how good youâre feeling,â Clark whispered into your ear, moaning with another jerk of his hips.Â
âItâs too much, I canât,â you blubbered out. âI canât take it.âÂ
âYou can,â Bruce grunted. âAnd you will.â
Bruce ground his hips slowly in a circle, pressing you further into Clark. The overstimulation and fullness were bringing your buried emotions to the forefront. A whimpering cry caught itself in your throat as you screwed your eyes shut. Tears fell down your scrunched face when Bruce pulled himself out slowly again. The slow drag of his head against your tensed walls had your toes curling as hard as they could.Â
Bruce panted and swallowed close to your ear, letting out a grunt as he pushed his hips back in. His thighs flexed against yours as he started to pump in and out of you at a slow, steady rhythm. Your nails dug into Bruceâs hand, hard enough to scratch and draw blood.
Bruce brought your entwined hands up to his mouth for a brief kiss over your knuckles.Â
âGonna give me some battle scars of your own?â He teased breathily.Â
As Bruceâs hips rocked the pair of you, Clark slid his hardness between the small of your back and your tailbone. The sweat of your back slickened him enough to sigh in your ear and kiss behind it wetly. More tears fell as Clarkâs finger began to circle you faster and his hips rutted against you in tandem with Bruceâs. The shame and pleasure were bringing you close to sobbing again, making your feelings grow with each rise and fall of your heaving chest. Exhaustion crept in where excitement should be. You could only pray they would take their pleasure quickly. You refused to give yours up for a third time.Â
You kept your eyes shut as you heard Clark and Bruce exchange a few more kisses with each other before moving onto you. Bruce kissed your wet cheeks tenderly, whispering assuringly to you as he did. Clark pressed his face into your shoulder, speeding his pace up as he shook your entire body with his strokes. He left wet kisses on your damp skin, letting them muffle his moans.Â
Clark groaned your name loudly as his hips flexed and tensed there, spilling himself all over your back. He bit gently into your shoulder as he rode out his aftershocks, licking over the tender mark. He was quicker to go than Bruce from his previous teasing, you assumed. You tried not to notice him rutting into the bed when he was between your legs, letting his obsession with you alone do him in.Â
âUsually have better manners than this,â He exhaled in your ear, nuzzling his cheek into yours. âBut I just had to get back to you.âÂ
He had two fingers circling your clit now, pressing down harder as Bruce increased his speed. You shivered in mild disgust and arousal as you felt his spend start to drip down your back. Bruce was not far behind him as you opened your watery eyes to see him staring back down at you. His face was uncharacteristically flushed, and sweat was beading around his temples. He leaned down to give you a deep kiss on your mouth, moaning into your mouth in return.Â
Your cunt clenched down on him again as you felt the pleasure building in your core again.
âClose again?â He smirked through his heavy pants. âWeâll have to build your stamina up.âÂ
You whined and shook your head, letting the sobs bubble up again. You didnât want your pleasure to be wrought from their insatiability again. Their obsession with your complete ownership had delved all the way down to enacting their will over even your most basic bodily functions. They shared a displeased look over your shoulder, in silent agreement once again. It was never about you.Â
âYou will come again,â Bruce commanded, squeezing your hand. âYou deserve it, my love.âÂ
Of course you did, thatâs what this was all about in the end â what they think you deserve. Not what you wanted, not even what you needed, but what you deserved. You deserved their protection, you deserved their devotion, you deserved their delusions of grandeur. You deserved it so much that it never mattered what you thought about it.
Clark whispered encouragingly in your ear as Bruce slowed his pace, focusing on more powerful and targeted thrusts. He was going in as deep as he could, rolling his hips up into you. Your sobs were loud and unfettered as Clark shushed you softly. You shook your head again and again, whimpering out protests when the pleasure began to make you shake. There was practically no buildup this time. It hit you just like their love did, an impossible force that refused to be denied. It struck you all at once like they did, overtaking your entire being and holding you in the throes of its ecstasy.Â
You were fairly certain you lost consciousness for a moment as you rode out your orgasm, spasming violently around Bruce. Absolution filled your senses as you basked in the ignorance once again, letting go of your circumstances for just a second more. The well-earned relief was short-lived as you felt Bruce pull out of you and finish himself off on your stomach. You barely registered he had done it as you finally let yourself go, giving into the fear youâve felt the entire time. Your body shook as you sobbed harshly. You didnât even care if they were a witness to it anymore; you couldnât refuse yourself any longer.
They maneuvered you slowly, allowing your body to rest naturally on the bed between them. Bruce kissed you and pulled you close to him, laying you face down on his chest. He rested against the sheets on his back, petting your hair as you wailed into his chest. The situation had fully crashed down on you, filling you with horrible shame and anger. You let them talk you into willingly betraying yourself, into believing this sham of an intimate evening. You tried to forget them in the apex of your pleasure, but they were waiting there for you, too. There was nowhere to hide from them, not even in yourself anymore.Â
Your cries had fizzled out in sniffles quickly as exhaustion moved into you once more. The edges of reality blurred as you opened your eyes wearily. The sight of the room was a haze, some far-off place that felt more like a dungeon than a castle with each passing minute. Their voices were a blur as you settled against Bruce, still shaking from the shock of it all. You hadnât noticed Clark had left the bed, but he returned with a warm washcloth. His movements were gentle and tender as he physically cleaned you of themselves. You werenât sure youâd ever be able to wash yourself of your own sins, not with all the tears you knew had left to be shed.Â
Clark settled beside you and kissed your cheek, prompting you to close your eyes again. Their conversation was muffled, like you were listening to them speak through a wall. Bruce said something about Alfred bringing dinner up to the bedroom instead of taking it formally like date night would demand. Their voices faded the more you relaxed into their comforting touches.
You could tell they were speaking to you, but it wasnât real. None of this was real. The feeling of their lips on your skin, the softness of the sheets, the pit of despair deep in your heart. It would all melt away if you werenât keen to their reality. You let yourself drift off on Bruceâs chest, listening to his steady heartbeat as you hoped to free yourself from them in your dreams.
synopsis. taking the gardening gig at the malfoy manor turns out to be more than just pulling weeds and trimming bushes. the old security guard warned you about the haunted statues, but youâve brushed his counsels as mere stories to boost the popularity of the tourist attraction. what happens when youâre trapped in the intricate maze of the manor, hunted down by a lust-filled cursed statue?
pairing. cursed statue! draco malfoy x reader
content/mdni. DUB-CON. fem!reader, gardener!reader, cursed statue!draco, victorian man!draco, repressed!draco, kinda soft!draco, dom!draco, possessive!draco, weeping angels!au type of statue, maze chase, a bit of horror (?), monster-fucking (you fuck his human form tho), blindfold usage, oral (m and f receiving), public/maze sex, dirt/pavement fucking, doggy style, slight size kink, teasing, allusion to humiliation (m receiving), overstimulation (f receiving), praise, dirty talk (bad attempt at victorian speech), name-calling (darling, good girl, my sweet, my gardener), raw sex, thoatpie, creampie, tons of plot (5k is just plot and build-up)
word count. 7k
a/n. have you ever wanted to fuck a statue? I GOT YOU! smut and a dash of horror? I GOT YOU x2. first draco fic! my lovely @draco-malfoys-lovergirl, sorry for taking so long! feedback and reblogs are deeply appreciated!
âso the side garden and the maze, right?â
âyes, miss.â the old man confirmed immediately, nodding his head in agreement as well. âplease start with the garden, as our guests will see that first.â
indeed, when the malfoy manor will be open to visitors, fully converted into a tourist attraction, the side garden will reach their eyes first. the maze, positioned at the back of the manor, somewhere more reserved, will only be explored â if ever â together with a tour guide.
âthe maze is terribly overgrown, but do not stress yourself too much. thereâs a small chance for it to be open to the public.â he mused, pursing his lips towards the end in an attempt to stifle a laugh. âkids will definitely get lost in it.â
âi understand. then i will make my way to the garden and work my magic.â you gave the old man a crooked smile before bowing slightly, signaling your departure.
âgood luck with that!â he smiled back at you, his gesture flying to his eyes and making them turn into two curved lines. âand, miss. be careful with the statues!â
a small chuckle escaped your lips, but you brushed it away with a sway of your hand. âi am sure the haunted statues will let a master do her work in peace.â
bowing your head towards the man one last time, you bid him goodbye. picking up your wheelbarrow â full with your gardening equipment, you headed to the side garden to assess the situation.
the job advertisement did not lie.
the garden, long abandoned, was in terrible shape. the flower bushes were overgrown, yet somehow still blooming despite the obvious lack of care. weeds were sprouting everywhere, enveloping and capturing the legs of the few benches.
some vines even latched themselves over the statue in the middle, crawling over the stepping stone and curving all over the name plaque. the shoes of the statue were surprisingly clean, but that might be because of the birds attacking it and picking at its feet.
birds were definitely attracted by this statue, as the shoulders and even the hat were covered in white stains of poo.
âhere is young masterâŠâ
your gloved hands, already equipped for ripping weeds and other unwelcomed plants, rested on the plaque, caressing over the wild vines and, then, ripping them away from the surface.
the polished stone of the plaque was finally breathing, hit by the warm sun after being drowned in leaves and lianas for god knows how long.
â⊠draco malfoy.â
the inscription was now clear to your eyes and you muttered the name with such familiarity, like youâve known the young man for ages.
but you didnât, really.
you had to look up at the statue to register to whom such a name belonged. squinting your eyes, you raised your gaze from below your hatâs brim and pierced his own.
it was quite the tall statue, the young man keeping a straight and unwavering posture. he was of noble lineage, that was quite clear from his expensive victorian attire â the coat draped over his shoulders, although sprinkled with bird poop, was fabulously sculpted. his fingers, clad in big rings which wouldâve definitely bought a house in todayâs time, were perched on his sturdy fingers. every detail of his hands was visible to the naked eye thanks to their position, placed one over the other on the handle of a cane.
and his eyes⊠so soulless, yet so full of wonders. the colours were not captured into the cold muddy stone, yet his gaze was drawing you in, hypnotizing you and calling you to explore their depths.
there was no depth, as the sculptor couldnât possibly imitate the intricacies of the human eye. yet, his eyes made your feet move closer to his, made you step on the stone platform and stop before him. his eyes made you crane your neck upwards to meet his face once more.
his eyes made your gloved hand touch his face and caress that freezing, lifeless stone.
âyou mustâve been very popular with the girls, master draco.â
your tone was not full of jest or mockery. you were sincere. if you, a modern woman, found his statue attractive, surely ladies in the victorian era were swooned by his alive version.
âwere your eyes piercing green?â you mumbled to yourself, contemplating on his eye color as you carefully danced across his cheek with your fingers. âor maybe a deep chocolate brown?â
the stone could not answer back to such questions.
âor a nice electric shade of blue?â
you were now close to him. too close.
your nose bumped into his stone one and, in that moment, you realized how crazy you must look from the outside. you retracted your hand immediately and jumped down from the stepping stone, putting some distance between you and the statue.
âgosh, maybe i am the haunted one.â you say out loud as you smack your own head, trying to bring you back to reality and do the job you were actually hired to do.
picking up the weeds youâve removed from his plaque, you throw that into one of your giant garbage bags. fastening the gardening apron tighter around your hips, you drop into the front pockets your shears and your little trowel and began rehabilitating the garden.
all under the statueâs fixed gaze.
âąâąâą
âand the last one.â you finished counting the garbage bags as you throw the last one into your wheelbarrow. it drops nicely next to the other three bags youâve previously placed, deflating atop of the pile like a mushed cherry.
your tools were nicely spread across one of the benches there, your apron now empty and easier to carry around.
making your way to the statue, you plop yourself down on the platform, butt seated right next to the plaque. you extended your left hand to the side of the stone, fishing for your water bottle, as you admire the work youâve done.
the garden was looking so much better than before and, with a bit of aftercare, youâre sure it will be blooming beautifully for the opening ceremony. for now, the nicely trimmed bushes, the uprooted and cleaned-up weeds, and the shoveled soil will do.
âgood work, girl!â you congratulated yourself as you opened the bottle, unscrewing the cap with one hand and bringing it to your thirsty mouth. dipping your head backwards, ready to savoir the by-now lukewarm water, you hit something rigid with the back of your head.
âughâ ouchâŠâ you instantly jumped forward, raising from your make-shift seat and turning to inspect the obstacle.
the statue.
you couldâve sworn you were not that close to the statue, as the edge of the platform was still some inches away from the body. and you were right, the distance between the margin and the sculpted shoes was big enough, but you seem to have missed the extended arm of the statue.
his right hand was looming forward, as if young master malfoy was placing his palm against the head of his trusty subordinates.
âthank god it didnât shatter.â
you were grateful the stone was not damaged by your sturdy head. technically, it was impossible for it to break from a mere strike; practically, the statue was so old, even such a movement could ruin it. you came closer, carefully analyzing the hand, grasping it in your own naked one and feeling around the stone.
it seemed fine. unharmed.
âi might as well clean the poo off of you, no?â you sigh, knowing youâd have to sacrifice your last gulps of water to wash away the dried-up spurts of excrements from the statue.
but you did, going up again on the platform and splashing the stains with your water bottle. thankfully, the bird poo appeared to not be as hardened as expected, flowing down together with the liquid and leaving behind clean stone.
âthere, there, young master.â
some poo was adorning his top hat, but your stature did not allow you to reach them. and you find that the hard way, as water actually splashed lower, over dracoâs face and away from his hat.
âooops, my bad.â
you were speaking to the statue like it was a real human being, apologizing for drenching his face in water and even frantically searching for your cloth to dry it.
âwe canât have this beautiful smile drown, hm?â humming, you dabbed up all the water, revealing his upturned lip corners to you.
âall good! and handsome as ever.â
and with that you departed from the statue a second time that day, eagerly packing up your tools and dropping them next to the garbage bags. your water bottle joined them too, a clear reminder of your unclenched thirst.
âbye, bye, draco! hope you like your rejuvenated garden.â
with a brief goodbye and a childish giggle, you pushed your wheelbarrow on the exit path of the side garden, ending your first day as the rehabilitation gardener of the malfoy manor.
âąâąâą
âyoung master malfoy, we meet again.â
you almost laughed when you came back the next day and saw another statue of draco. youâve finished with the side garden yesterday, a place which was built with draco malfoy in mind â or so the old man told you.
so why was a similar statue in the maze?
perched upon a similar platform, with a similar plaque, was a similar man.
it was definitely draco, you could recognize his facial features by now. his outfit was the same as the one from the side garden â the expensive coat, the top hat, the dress pants. even the cane was present in this sculpture.
the pose was different.
for once, the cane was no longer positioned in front of his body. it rested nicely alongside his frame, supported by his left hand. his right hand was bent and kept over his chest, holding between his ring-clad fingers his hat. his head was no longer sheltered, and you could now see how nicely his hair framed his features.
âthe old guy said your eyes were bluish, even grey in certain moments of the day.â
you were now accustomed to stepping on the platform and forcing yourself into the statueâs personal space. you shamelessly cupped his face, like you were ready to rotate it downwards towards you, but it was stone â statues donât move. so you had to rotate your own to meet his straightforward gaze.
âthey might have been gray, but not this lifeless gray, surely.â
you thumb at the warm stone, heated by the radiant sun, tricking your mind into thinking that the man before you was somehow real. but it wasnât. this was all just your imagination reconstructing the young lord with the bits and pieces you found around.
âand he said you had blond hair.â
your hand moved to the nape of his neck, but there were no strands of hair which you couldâve touched. the stone carvings of his haircut were stuck to his scalp, another reminder of his inanimate state.
âoh, your hat has poo on it.â the hat, which was not on his head like in the previous statue, caught your attention.
the edge had a familiar shit stain on it, and it made you wonder if birds had preferred spots to strike.
âlet me get that before i start my work.â
with a bit of water and a tiny cloth, you rubbed away the stubborn stain and made the hat match his clean attire. âno stains for you, draco.â you finally reported like he was your boss, raising your gaze one last time as if the stone could offer its approval.
the statue remained unmoving and expressionless, but his downward gaze was fixated on his top hat. as if young master draco watched over your work and took in your efforts.
that was good enough for you, so youâve moved away from the statue and straight back to your gardening duties.
as youâve began shaping the hedges of the maze, youâve completely skipped over the vine-covered plaque at the feet of the statue.
indeed, you now knew the name of the young master, so there was no curiosity left in you. but if youâve just taken a peek at it youâd have realized that something was not adding up.
beneath the lianas, another name was carved into stone: lucius malfoy.
was the name wrongly placed? or⊠was it the statue?
âąâąâą
âno way itâs already this late?!â as you elevate your head from underneath the hedge, with weeds plucked in both hands, you are hit with a darkening sky and a rising moon.
âshit.â you dropped the plants in your open garbage bag and instantly pulled at the edge of your gardening gloves, turning them inside out so your skin remains clean.
âkeys, keys, keys, where are the damn keys?â you start frantically searching your pockets for the keys to the main gate of the place, praying and hoping you have them on you.
the security guy at the entrance surely locked up the place an hour ago, now peacefully snoring in his little hut. security cameras are not yet installed so he wonât know you were locked in until the very morning.
your pockets were empty.
âno, no, no, this is unreal. maybe i dropped them somewhere around here?â you ducked and searched around the dirt on your hands and knees, trying to sniff out the keys like some trained dog.
but they were not around here.
âthe statue maybe?â you had left most of your equipment there, as the center of the maze allowed you enough space to store them... and a sitting spot.
you hurried your steps towards the statue, turning lefts and then rights to reach it. youâve memorized this part of the maze with how many trips youâve made back and forth. and loâ and behold, you did reach the center of the maze in record time, the statue of draco malfoy greeting you with his usual expressionless face.
âdraco, dear, have you seen some keys?â you asked the statue like it will respond, so nerve-wrecked by the situation that you donât even take into account the absurdity of the question.
of course, the statue did not answer, holding the cane in his right hand and the hat with his left, close to his torso, just like before.
the last ray of sun, paling with the arrival of the night, did help you one last time, glimmering the metal part of the keys at dracoâs feet. you rushed to them relieved, thanking the universe for not abandoning you in these godforsaken times.
âgotcha.â clutching the keys, you pull them towards you with excitement. only to realize that a good chunk of them was stuck beneath the stone shoes of the statue.
stuck beneath the stone shoes of the statue?
âwhat the actual fuck?â
and you pulled again, this time with more force, tightening your fingers around the metal object and putting all your force into freeing them. all that to no avail.
âwhat are they doing there to begin with? is this some sort of sick prank?â
you kneeled down, legs bent and digging into the cracked pavement, as you grounded yourself to channel more power into your grip. you tried again, tugging at the keys underneath the stone foot with every muscle of your body.
nothing.
âshit.â you sprang up from your kneeling position, abandoning the keys at once to find some kind of tool to help you get them out. âmaybe a crowbar? there should be one here, no?â
turning your back completely and strutting down one of the four pathways, you mentally go through all your tools to decide which one might act as a jack. maybe your big shovel can help you raise the statue somehâ
your body slowed in its tracks when your ears registered footsteps behind you.
thank god, the security guy realized you were still inside and came to get you. his footsteps resonated louder and louder, a strong indicator the person was approaching you.
what was his name again? david?
âdavid, sir, i am so glaÂââ and you stopped completely, readying yourself to turn around and face the man.
that did not happen, as strong, manly arms slide along your body, trapping you in a harsh lock. one hand dipped along your waist, nestling nicely across your lower abdomen, while the other snaked up to your jaw, forcing you to keep your gaze forward.
you tried to turn your head around and see the man behind you, but your face was gripped tightly by ring-clad fingers, digging into your cheeks and leaving marks into your skin.
âdonât move, darling.â
âwâwho are you? let me go!â
you struggled against his arms, elbowing the body behind you in an attempt to escape. but he was unwavering and rigid, like stone.
âyou know me, darling.â he whispered mysteriously against the shell of your ear, warm breath fanning across the side of your neck as he was closing in.
âwhat the fuââ ck is wrong with you? thatâs what you were about to say, but the clattering of a foreign object onto the pavement made you stop and gaze down.
a cane.
a very familiar cane dropped down onto the pavement, clicking twice before going silent against the stone. a very familiar cane which was no longer of stone, but of a dark wood.
there was only one man who possessed such an objectâŠ
âdÂâdraco?â
âbravo.â draco breathed the praise as his lips were zeroing into your skin, careful pecks falling onto your neck soon after.
âbâbut youâre stone! you are not real.â you try to use reason to understand the situation, but the not-so-innocent touches of his made your brain uncooperative. your lips, smashed into one another by his fingers, barely allowed a whimper to escape as dracoâs kisses arrived at the base of your neck.
ââoh, but i am quite real, my sweet.â
his voice unfolded against your skin, low and silken, steeped in something archaic, something belonging to a century long buried. the tone of his speech carried the tidy rhythm of nobility, but there was a lazy, indulgent pitch to it now â like a predator who had finally cornered his prey.
his hand moved slowly â possessively â from your stomach to the edge of your hipbone, resting there as if to lay claim. his fingers, still clad in cold rings that clinked faintly against your apron, brushed the skin where your shorts had shifted.
you shivered under the contrast of cool metal and warm breath.
âthisâ this isnât possibleâŠâ you muttered, even as you twitch into him, instinct fighting every logical thread unraveling in your mind.
âreally?â dracoâs lips curled into a smile against your skin, teeth grazing lightly across the tender curve where your neck met your shoulder.
his voice, sultry and low, rumbled like thunder muffled under layers of velvet. you could feel the press of his body now â warm, firm, unmistakably human.
nothing like the freezing statue you had pressed your palms against yesterday.
âiâve been watching youâŠâ he murmured, dragging his lips down the arch of your throat, his hand on your hips squeezing tighter, possessive. âthese couple of days.â
his words left a trail of heat far worse than the sun ever could.
âi knew you were trouble the moment your little hands touched my face⊠so soft, so curious.â his hand now moved over the lower straps of your apron, thumb toying with the fabric and slowly tugging it loose.
his voice dropped further, molasses-thick with old aristocratic charm. âdo you know what it does to a man, to be frozen in time, starved, only to be worshipped like that?â
âiâi didnât knowââ you stammered, but he silenced you with a soft tut.
âoh, you wound me.â his voice wrapped around you like ivy, his darkened tone churning that coil in your tummy.
his teeth grazed your collarbone once more, and his hand dipped underneath the loose apron, down past your navel, fingers ghosting over the waistband of your shorts. his touch sent jolts through you, as unreal as the whole moment.
âyou kept me clean. touched me like i was a god. spoke to me like i was a man. which do you want me to be now, hm?â
you gasped when his hand dipped beneath, fingers unerring, arrogant. you could barely keep upright, held up only by the hold of his arms and the way he crowded your body against his own rigid one.
âiâ you are not real.â you shook your head in disbelief, still refusing to accept that the statue was alive. and, above all, full of desire for you.
you could feel his hands, warm and calloused, and his cool rings tease the skin beneath your waistband, palming your lower abdomen and feeling around for your undergarments. you could feel his lips still glued to your skin, now leaving open-mouthed kisses along your throat.
you could feel his clothed cock digging into your ass, the stiffness of it a reminder of his previous stone-being.
âmust you deny the truth?â he growled behind you, his wandering hand stopping to scratch at your skin in frustration. âi am of flesh, just like you are.â
âthen show me! let me see you.â you too exhaled in frustration, demanding to be turned around and shown his true, alive form. you tossed and turned in his grasp again, forcing your hands on his own and trying to pry them away from you.
âthat i cannot do, darling.â his hands only became more rigid around you, muscles flaring beneath his coat and stilling your revolt.
âshall your eyes lay on me, i turn to stone.â
and there it was, the core of his curse. as long as your eyes are on him, he will remain a stone statue, frozen in time in the position he last occupied. with your eyes averted from his frame â just like the situation now â he was alive and capable of every human thing.
âlâliesâŠâ
âcheck for yourself, my sweet.â he surrendered, sighing into your neck before jutting your head to the side, enough to glance back at the stone platform on which he previously stood. for good measure, draco did step to the side as well, shielding his form from your own wondering eyes.
your orbs were graced with the familiar view of the mazeâs center, with the stepping stone and the four pathways it fostered. but there was no statue to welcome you. the pedestal was empty, like a sculpture was never there to begin with.
your keys were still there, but no longer obstructed by a foot. they shine less than before, now with the sun completely gone from the sky.
âbâbut how?â
the reveal felt heavy on your shoulders, making your knees buckle under the weight of the cruel truth. you kept blinking and blinking, wishing the scenery would change and draco the statue would appear back on the platform.
but that didnât happen.
âi walked.â draco answered your rhetorical question, humming against your skin in an attempt to soothe your anxieties.
âfirst from the gardenââ
oh. this pedestal wasnât his to begin with.
ââto this platform. then, i just stepped down when i saw you were leaving.â
his last words were dripping with something dark, possessive, venomous. âwhy leave me, darling?â draco gripped your jaw tighter, keeping it in place, as he saw your face sliding towards him.
wishing to see him. wishing to paralyze him.
âi thought hiding your keys was a splendid idea.â he mumbled more to himself than to you, analyzing his failure of a plan. âi should have claimed you from the start.â
âyou are not real.â you whispered again, trembling now. but it wasnât from fear alone. his words, so dangerous and possessive, made your insides combust with arousal.
draco chuckled darkly against your skin. âstill in denial?â he said. âeven when i am touching you. holding you. wanting you.â
his hand slid lower, right on top of your panties, and you felt the pads of his fingers ghost against the slick heat between your thighs. you jerked instinctively, a moan catching in your throat, and he grinned against your neck â you could feel it, the pride blooming in that twisted, noble heart.
âlâlet me see you.â
âcanât do, my swââ
âlet me see you turn to stone, then i will believe you.â
draco stiffened. you could feel the tremor that ran through his body. not out of anger, but of reluctant fear.
"you wish to see me⊠undone?" his breath faltered for a moment. âto gaze upon me and strip me of my human form?â
you nodded as best as you could, hoping he would comply to your request.
âi need⊠proof.â you whispered. âi need to know youâre not a dream iâve conjured.â
he went quiet. too quiet.
then â half-heartedly, with the weight of a century behind his breath â he spoke, voice barely a rasp. âthen have it.â
dracoâs arms fell away from you slowly, dragging against your skin like tamed serpents. his body slipped away from your own, away from your warmth, and the moment he did... cold rushed back in.
you turned.
the first thing you saw was the flash of his eyes â steel-gray, like a storm youâd only seen in paintings. like the sea itself had been frozen mid-tempest.
then, stone.
it happened in a blink.
his eyes â once alive, calculating, devouring you â were now glazed with eternal silence. his lips, once curled with hunger and twisted flirtation, were now unmoving. perfect. cold.
his hand was reaching out to you still. but it was rigid now.
draco malfoy stood before you, just as he had the first day you saw him. carved in grace, haunted in stillness.
the only sign heâd ever moved was the position of his body: arms half-raised, chest slightly arched forward, like he was trying to reach you. like he was begging you not to leave him after your little test.
you stumbled back, almost falling on your butt against the pavement.
the truth of it â of him â finally slamming into your chest like a blow.
the statue was alive. and he wanted you.
âno.â you breathed, horror wrapping around your lungs, making your breaths heavy with fear. âno, no, noâŠâ
you backed away, but the statue â draco â stood watchful, haunting. you could feel his presence even now, humming under the skin of stone. waiting.
and if you dared to blinkâ
you didnât wait to find out.
with a gasp stuck in your throat and adrenaline lashing through your veins, you ran.
you ran back into the maze, cutting corners, clipping hedges, ignoring the way untamed branches clawed at your arms. you ran like he could follow â and maybe, just maybe, he would, the moment your eyes left him long enough.
because now you knew: he was never just stone.
your legs moved before your thoughts could catch them. every twist and turn of the maze felt unfamiliar now, foreign, menacing. the very same hedges youâd lovingly pruned now loomed like walls.
like a prison.
a shiver crawled down your spine, even before you heard the snap of twigs behind you.
he was following you as your eyes were no longer on him.
you turned sharply down a narrow corridor of green. left, right, right again. you had to get out. had to get to the entrance. but the hedges all looked the same. you could barely see where your feet landed as dusk drowned the world in navy blue.
then â a whisper.
ârunning from me, darling?â
your heart was pierced by a spear of fear, making your legs loose balance and divert you from the path. you turned the left corner with urgency, hoping to at least lose draco in the maze.
his voice was near. too near.
luck was not on your side. as you bolted again, crashing through a thicket of untrimmed ivy, you emerged into a clearing.
and a terrifying dead end.
he stepped out from the neighboring hedge, moving with the careful grace of a man who had learned to treasure each moment of motion. like someone whoâd spent too long unable to move at all.
his haunting voice hit you before his frame did, bouncing around the greenery and shooting straight into your core.
âfound you.â it was velvet-laced steel, refined and dangerous, still soaked in that archaic drawl that made your knees tremble.
you backed up until your spine hit the hedge behind you and you curled into yourself, bending your arms in front of you to make a make-shift shield. that only aided him, your eyes now blocked by your self-made barrier.
draco advanced slowly â not like a man chasing, but like one collecting what was already his.
âyou canât escape me.â
your arms did little to protect you as you feel his body heat on yours, his breath fanning over the exposed skin. and when you remembered his weakness â your eyes â and tried to break away your shield, he immediately plopped his hat over the top-half of your face, covering them completely.
ânuh, nuh, we canât have that again, can we?â
dracoâs long fingers ghosted over your temples, adjusting the brim of the top hat so it sloped lower over your face, further obscuring your eyes. it was his own â victorian, dark velvet â worn during centuries of stillness. it smelled like him: old parchment, mossy rain, secrets pressed into stone.
but it wasnât enough.
âno peeking.â he said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice now; closer, lower, dripping with victorious delight. âiâve just got you back.â
you felt the rough tug of fabric being untied; your gardening cloth, pulled from your belt loop. a moment later, it joined the hat, knotted securely around your eyes in practiced, possessive movements.
like a blindfold.
âthere. now you may believe me with your body, if not your sight.â
you gasped as his lips found your collarbone again, this time, hungrier. he kissed like he had waited decades to know the taste of flesh, wetting your exposed skin with spit and need.
"touch me more." he murmured, voice crumbling into gravel and satin. âlike you did before. every meeting, hands on my face, on my hands⊠do you have any idea what that did to me, darling?â
you didnât get the chance to answer.
draco pushed you back gently, letting you feel the hedge at your spine, the dirt soft beneath your knees as he guided you down. he knelt too, with a reverence that belonged to old traditions.
âi have dreamt of this...â he confessed, the edge of his coat brushing your thighs. âwhen night fell and the world turned its eyes away⊠i imagined you like this. on your knees. kneeling for your master.â
your fingers trembled as they reached out â found him. warm, alive, impossibly real beneath your palms. your careful touch was redirected by his own hands to his pants, encouraged to explore. to find the hard outline of his cock straining behind the buttons, itching to be freed.
and when you expectantly prodded against his crotch, the protruding bulge left you rubbing your thighs together in anticipation.
âyou feel it?â he said softly, breath hitching as you cupped him fully in your palms. âflesh. not stone. and all for you.â
with careful hands, you undid the buttons. thankfully, the victorian attire had an easy-to-open mechanism. his cock sprang free in seconds, hot and heavy against your palm. it twitched when you wrapped your warm fingers around him, a bead of precum sliding along down to your digits.
âgood girl.â he purred, one hand tangling in your hair, the other bracing against the hedge behind your head. his hat was long forgotten on the pavement, falling on your way down to this kneeling position.
but the hat was no longer a concern, as your sturdy cloth was blocking your eyes just right.
âtaste me. take what youâve longed for.â
there was no point in denying the want surging inside you, the dryness of your mouth which was only curable by dracoâs messy cock. so you opened your mouth and pressed the head to your tongue, slow and teasing, admiring the weight it had.
he hissed sharply through his teeth, head lolling back from the feeling.
âahâfuck.â draco rarely cursed, but it rolled off his tongue naturally. âso warm. so perfect.â
you swirled your tongue around the head, tasting salt and something ancient beneath the surface â like stone kissed by summer storms. dracoâs hips bucked immediately, the feeling of your wet muscle making him groan loudly, but he quickly regained composure.
always the aristocrat. even undone.
âsteady, darlingâŠâ he muttered, breath ragged. âweâve⊠all the time in the world.â
his fingers tightened in your hair as you bobbed lower, taking more of him into your mouth. you could feel the tremble in his thighs, the tightness in his heavy balls, the way centuries of restraint tried not to shatter in your grip.
âbeautiful.â his voice cracked. âyou were always meant to kneel before me.â
the maze around you was silent, save for the sloshing sounds of your mouth and dracoâs barely contained moans â quiet, strangled, like he still couldnât believe he was free to make them.
you hollowed your cheeks, sucked harder.
âohââ he choked, head thudding gently forward against the hedge. âyes. just like that. my sweet little gardener. worship me.â
and you did. breathing through your nose, you lowered your head fully onto his cock, making draco hit the back of your throat oh so unceremoniously.
your broken chokes, your drooling lips, your twitching hands, they all contributed to the sensation, making draco grip your scalp harsher and tug at the roots of your hair.
âyou are bloody divine.â
he cursed again, one last string of aristocratic filth, and came in your mouth with a gasp like the cracking of old stone â loud, desperate, reverent. you swallowed it all, never once opening your eyes beneath the cloth, savouring the creaminess of his release.
like stone, you stayed still, nose-deep into his navel, welcoming his hefty spurts of cum into your hungry mouth. his legs were trembling, his hips were jutting back and forth with extasy. but alas, draco stilled shortly after, breathless yet aroused beyond compare.
when he pulled out moments later, his touch was gentle on your face as his fingers instructed you to open your mouth. to let him see his seed completely swallowed.
âmy good girl.â
but your reward was far from over.
draco leaned down, pressed a kiss to your covered temple â a gentleness so jarring after the feral way heâd just used your mouth. and then you felt it; how his cock twitched again, not even finished with you.
not even close.
âturn for me.â he murmured, lifting your chin with two fingers. âface down, arse up. thereâs more i must claim.â
you obeyed without further complaints, breath caught in your throat as your body moved. the hedge behind you scraped your shoulder as you shifted, the cloth over your eyes still snug. your knees found the hard dirt again, but this time, your chest lowered too, forearms braced beneath you as you arched your back and presented yourself to him.
you heard him groan behind you â truly groan.
deep, rough, primal.
âlook at you.â he breathed. âso obedient. youâve no idea what that does to me.â
he knelt behind you, one hand smoothing down your spine like a sculptor reacquainting himself with his abandoned statue. you gasped when his other hand slipped to your waistband, pulling your bottoms down to your knees in one go.
and then, with considerate care, right between your thighs â two long, aristocratic fingers dipping into your slick folds, already drenched with arousal and need.
âso wet.â he murmured, voice thick with disbelief. âall this for me?â
you could only whimper in response, hips grinding back into his hand, asking for more.
draco slipped a finger inside â just one â curling it expertly, teasing the gummy spot that made you see stars behind the blindfold. then another joined, his knuckles gliding with ease as he fingered you open, slow and rhythmic, relishing every soaked sound your cunt made.
âdracoâ pleaseââ
he leaned forward, hot breath brushing your ear. âi know what you need, dear.â
yet the fingers left you. you nearly cried from the loss, pushing your hips back in an attempt to reconnect with his digits. but they were replaced immediately by the blunt, aching head of his cock, nudging your entrance. you arched further, offering yourself like a prize.
and draco took you like heâd earned it.
with one smooth thrust, he sheltered himself inside, forcing a plethora of moans from the both of you. his grip on your hips turned bruising, holding you steady as he bottomed out, hips flush to your ass, balls close to your clit, cock buried deep where only he belonged.
âfuck.â he hissed, bending over your back as his hips began to move. âso tight. so bloody warm. you were made for this. made for me.â
the pace he set was punishing â precise and powerful, years of immobility fueling each thrust. you clawed into the soil, gasping, whining and whimpering, the stretch of him making your body quake with need.
he held your hips like a man anchoring himself to reality, to you. his cock drove deeper with each thrust, the sound of skin slapping and wetness growing louder, filthier. then he reached down and found your clit, rubbed in merciless circles, as he plowed into you harder from behind.
âsay it.â he growled, voice ragged. âsay youâre mine.â
you choked on a moan. âyoursâ draco. iâm yoursâ!â
âyes, yes, you are.â he thrust harder. âmine to fuck. mine to deflower in the dirt if i so wish. mine to keep.â
soon, your orgasm hit like lightning â white-hot, rolling through your limbs and stealing your breath away. you came around his cock with a cry, pussy clenching so tight it drew a broken, gasping moan from him.
draco wasnât far behind. he slammed into you once, twice, trice â then spilled another load deep inside, heat flooding you, his cum thick and scorching against your velvety walls. his hands trembled on your body, his breath heavy with relief and admiration.
âmine forever.â
when he pulled out, slow and attentive, your cunt ached from the loss, pulsing to be filled again and again. his fingers trailed your thighs, rubbing around your entrance and smearing the mess heâd made of you. spreading the sticky mixture of your bodies around in utter admiration.
âyou bewitched me.â he spoke from behind you, accusing you of witchcraft like he wasnât the one cursed to be half-statue.
be it jest or fact, you had no moment to respond as his mouth, hot and wet, latched onto your puffy cunt.
âwâwait, draco.â but he didnât listen, clutching your hips again and forcing you to stay still as he lapped up your release.
he moaned low against your cunt, the sound gutturalâ unrefined â like a man slipping the leash after centuries of stillness. his tongue moved like he was painting scripture onto your folds, worshipping, devouring, humming with dark delight.
âoh, fuckâ draco.â you gasped, unable to do anything but rut your hips back against his face, face collapsed over the dirtied pavement. he growled in approval, fingers digging into your thighs, spreading you wider, eating you deeper.
his tongue lapped up every drop of your combined slick, every pulse of arousal still leaking from your quivering pussy. he didnât miss a thing. not a tremble. not a twitch.
and if you tried to squirm away, overstimulated, crying with need, he dragged you right back, nose buried between your cheeks and taunting complaints on his lips.
âno.â he muttered darkly. âyou donât run from this. not when iâve waited centuries to taste you.â
his voice was muffled by your flesh, filthy and fervent. the sharpness of his accent cracked around the vowels like he was losing himself, becoming undone in the most deliciously undignified way.
then he lifted his face from your core just enough to speak clearly.
âyou've ruined me.â he said, breathless. âmade me fuck like a peasant on the dirt. like iâve never known silk or propriety. iâm humiliating myself for your cunt, and i donât even care.â
you let out a helpless sound, somewhere between a sob and a moan, his confession making your cunt drool more on his tongue.
he licked another stripe through your folds, groaning like it hurt. âdo you understand what that means, darling? aristocracy runs in my veins.â
briefly tonguing your leaking entrance, he then continued. âbut all it took was a gardener with gentle hands and sweet words to make me rut into the grass like iâd forgotten my title.â
draco dragged your hips higher, adjusted your knees against the soil like he was aligning art â then sucked your clit into his mouth and moaned as he did.
you screamed.
your thighs quivered like leaves in a powerful wind. your hands clawed at the hedge in front of you. and still he feasted.
draco malfoy, the statue who had once stood cold and untouchable, now on his knees, face buried in your dripping cunt, completely captivated by the taste of you.
and all you could do was sob his name into the dusk, voice wrecked, as your second orgasm crashed over you. he didnât stop until your legs collapsed and your body went boneless in the dirt; his lips shiny, chin slick, and expression wickedly dazed.
then, finally, with all the self-satisfaction of a man who had just claimed divinity, he leaned down to whisper in your ear.
synopsis. your love for the paranormal and the cursed led you to a more than deadly night with a tormented spirit. desire has a price, and tom never plays fair.
pairing. cursed doll! tom riddle x reader
content/mdni. NON-CON. SOMNOPHILIA. fem!reader, cursed doll!tom, evil spirit!tom, cruel!tom, dom!tom, possessive!tom, selfish!tom, blood play (cuts), MONSTER-FUCKING FR, mentions of gore, choking, missionary, clit stimulation, multiple orgasms (f receiving), tummy bulging, hair pulling (m receiving), mentions of cunnilingus and fingering (f receiving), dry/wet-humping, teasing, degradation, pet name (darling, good girl, filthy little thing), tom wants to kill you, raw sex, creampie, bad ending.
word count. 4.6k
a/n. saw a reel with the masked guy from the boy and it reminded me of tommy. i havenât watched the movie/series tho, so donât come for me! please tell me your thoughts! feedback and reblogs are deeply appreciated!
you were definitely the weirdest human he had ever encountered.
even now, from his carefully chosen place on your wardrobe, leaning against the wall, he still couldnât understand what is wrong with you.
for starters, you bought him â a presumably cursed doll â at the antique shop two streets away from your apartment without any dare or blackmail being involved. tom still refused to believe your smile that day, the day you spot him in the shop, was a genuine smile of happiness.
it was soon confirmed to be true, as you video-called one of your girl friends that very night to boast about your new gorgeous and possibly cursed doll. to a mortified and disgusted pansy. her reaction was more natural to tom than your own.
his new owner was a weirdo for sure.
if that wasnât strange enough, you also placed him in your bedroom.
in your private sacred space.
you did not use him as decoration for your living room â like most people do. you didnât drop him in the attic or the basement, places he was fairly familiar with. heck, not even the balcony.
your. bedroom.
you joyfully put him atop of your dresser, next to a few jewelry boxes and books, close to the wall so his heavy head â carrying that porcelain mask â wouldnât shatter after a nasty fall. you also offered him a lovely view of your huge bed, spread right before his eyes.
and a lovely and intimate view of you.
tom riddle, the ruthless cursed spirit who bears the heavy mask of his sins, takes care of his victims fast. trapped in that useless doll body, he uses less-physical methods to deal with them. invading dreams, creating nightmares, carrying worrying whispers and words of dread to the ownerâs ears⊠he makes their deaths look like an unfortunate accident.
their life force is all that matters to him.
you? you somehow evade all these. even as shadows warp around your sleeping form, even as shadows of your familiar furniture twist into an angular, sharp, foreign claw, even as the monstruous hand looms over your pretty naked neck. you sleep.
sound. unwavering. pleasant.
his malicious whispers do reach your ear, but they only make you giggle. you merely sprint between rooms, smirking at your other haunted objects â which were not actually cursed, from what tom could sense â and asking them which one chirps in your ear such sweet words.
âtommy, my beautiful boy. was it you?â
youâd crane your neck at him, grasping his doll body and pushing him so close to your curious eyes⊠he swore you almost touched his mask with your sclera.
but after days and days of failure, tom riddle realized what was so peculiar about you: you were a single woman with an insatiable sex drive.
he was graced with first-row seats to your masturbation sessions; you were always so needy and desperate, fingering that drooling cunt of yours, rubbing your aching clit on a pillow until your legs gave out, or even toying with your pussy with the help of a vibrator until you squirted all over your bed sheets.
your dreams were also all filthy and wet; there was no space for his nightmares and death-impending omens in that dirty mind of yours.
and tom riddle was exasperated.
âughâ ahââ
there it was again, another night when you whither and whine in your bed under the influence of nasty lust-filled dreams.
your eyes were shut tight, your limbs all scattered around the disheveled bed sheets. your thin blanket was thrown aimlessly across your lower half, barely covering your naked legs and your pantie-clad bottom.
âyâyessssâŠâ
incoherent mumbles continued to spill from your parted lips, filling the silence of the night and taunting poor tom and his previous attempts at stealing your life force.
your nails were scratching and digging into the mattress, while your legs spread further. pushing the blanked up the plush of your ass, tom now had a clear view of your covered pussy and your shiny wet spot. even if he wanted to ignore it, he couldnât, as your hips rocked themselves back into the empty space, chasing relief.
if only he was strong enough, he would materialize and strangle you to death for once.
âplease, ohhââ
you sounded so pornographic, mewls and whimpers and random clusters of words just combining into a mesmerizing chant. if he were in his human form, he would definitely have a bodily reaction â a thick, prominent cock print right against the zipper of his pants.
but he was just a doll.
⊠a cursed doll though.
tom threw away everything he previously planned for you and extended his malicious aura, briefly shaking all the furniture pieces around your room. then, just like last time, the shadows on the walls were sucked up into the doll and turned into a sharp claw-like hand.
it was completely dark, created from a sturdy yet misty substance; the fingers, long and slender, adorned with hauntingly pointy nails, were more visible than the forearm.
this creation was truly cursed.
the hand loomed over your twitching body, its first trajectory being your throat. it was so soft and inviting, your skin almost begging to be gripped and ravished. but tom tempered his desires and dipped the mist lower, right next to your pussy.
the air around the cursed limb was cold. that sudden change of temperature, applied so closely to your heating center, made goosebumps rise all over your skin, made you sigh in pleasure even in your dreamland.
tom dared to get closer, press the pads of his fingers against your wet spot. he could feel it â the flimsy material of your panties, all sticky with a creaminess he barely remembers. sloshing the material around, more and more of your wetness spread, making your cloth barrier stick to your folds and barely act as a protector.
fucking hell, she looks delicious.
tom hasnât felt such lustful desire in so long. but now, when his hand was rubbing all over your cunt, pressing and prodding against your pulsing hole, pinching your hardened nub and making your hips jolt into his touch⊠he needed more.
his sharp nails scratched at your inner tights, desperate to be let in. the lines were thin and perfectly traced on your skin, and the fine lines of blood just pulsing to life looked stunning on you.
the sting of the cuts only made you moan louder into your pillow, muttering pleas against it and pushing your hips into the air yet again.
shit, i canât finger her with that.
tom wouldnât have thought twice if it was someone else, really. what does it matter if he fingers you with his sharp nails and makes you bleed internally? what does it matter if you get hurt by him?
it does matter, because he doesnât want to do that.
he doesnât know why, but tom does not split your insides into a bloody mess. he just sneaks his misty claw underneath your drenched panties and, with direct contact, rubs fast circles onto your pulsing clit until you cum.
you spill all over his hand like a good girl, not once repulsed by his monstruous touch. you donât even wake up, blissfully unaware you just came because of a curseâs hand. you just turn over, continuing your sleep like nothing happened.
tom wished he had a mouth to taste you.
âąâąâą
but something shifted.
tom felt it the moment your orgasm hit â the moment your slick gushed warm over his claw, the moment your thighs shook with such desperate hunger, as though you were feeding off of him.
the air in the room shimmered, making the shadowy hand disperse.
it was unlike any other time heâd taken energy from a human. this wasn't death he was drawing in â it was life, depraved and pulsating, dripping with heat and sin.
your lust made him stronger.
it poured into him like wildfire, dancing at the edges of his cursed porcelain shell, cracking it from the inside out.
the mask trembled. a sound like bone cracking echoed faintly in the still room.
an uneven fissure split down its center.
tom twitched.
not the shadows around. not the diluted mist. him. the doll body, cursed into paralysis, spasmed with a jolt of real power. for the first time in decades, he felt his limbs move.
he gasped â faint, dry and hoarse, in a throat that hadnât drawn breath in over half a century.
and then, it happened again. your hips twitched in your sleep, a little whimper breaking from your throat as your thighs pressed together. still so sensitive. still damp with the sticky aftermath of your orgasm. still dreaming.
tom could feel it. that energy. it clung to the room like perfume and sulfur, soaked into the sheets, threaded itself into the shadows. it was feeding him. worshiping him.
another small crack split across his mask. the dollâs chest shuddered. his arms, once stiff and useless, flexed with a sick pop of movement. then his neck â god, the satisfying stretch of a joint rotating after years of stillness. something inside him growled as he pushed against the barrier of his prison.
she made me stronger.
the thought came not with rage, nor with confusion. no. tom embraced it with terrifying clarity. it was always hunger that drove him â but this was different. your hunger had looped around his own. you craved, and so did he. and in your sleep, in your sopping, vulnerable arousal, you offered him something no other soul had given.
life.
the cursed doll body shattered in a silent explosion of shadow. splinters of old wood and dusty porcelain were sucked into the darkness like dead leaves in a storm, disappearing from this world altogether.
all that remained was the mask.
the mask â and a man, now standing next to the dresser.
tom was towering and pale, twisted muscle over graceful limbs. dark, almost too dark, hair curled at his temples in gentle waves, damp with sweat and cursed energy. his body was sculpted like a statue, lean and precise, long fingers twitching at his sides.
bare. entirely bare, save for the cursed mask still fixed to his face.
a cruel thing. blank, white, expressionless, but for the empty hollows where his eyes glowed faintly beneath. it wasnât painted â no. it was bone-like and seamless, fused to him with dark magic, with agony and shame and sin.
he moved closer, silent and smooth, like a predator in the pitch-black stillness of your bedroom.
you shifted on the bed again, that thin little shirt of yours riding high, shaping to the curve of your waist. your thighs still glistened, legs sprawled and soft, pliant with sleep and satiation. the room was warm from your body heat, thick with the scent of sex.
tom stood now at the foot of the bed, watching you.
he should kill you. that had always been the plan. that had always been his purpose.
and yetâŠ
his cock was hard. painfully so. he could feel it pulse at the sight of your parted lips and the soft rise and fall of your breasts. he could feel the weight of your orgasm in the air like incense, and it made him ache.
youâd fed him, intentionally or not.
and now, he was flesh again.
"such a filthy little thing." he whispered, voice hoarse.
it wasnât loud enough to wake you. not yet.
he stepped closer, bare feet ghosting across the hardwood floor without a sound. he reached out one hand â still long-fingered, no longer a misty claw, but flesh. pale skin, knuckles flushed with blood, sharp nails now trimmed and human.
he hovered over your throat.
the heat of your body radiated upwards. your pulse fluttered against your skin, fast and frantic. even in sleep, you knew something was watching.
tom leaned closer. but he did not press his hand down on your neck like he should.
he dragged it slowly, softly, from your throat to your collarbone⊠down between the covered valley of your breasts. hovering over you like a dark god, a monster made man by your own depravity.
his fingers curled, brushing the edge of your shirt. it had ridden up your body in your restless movements, now nicely exposing your stomach and the elastic waistband of your panties â those poor ruined panties, soaked with slick and shame.
you whimpered again, your hips shifting, your thighs clenching as if still chasing friction in your dream.
âso greedy.â tom whispered, voice like a lament, low and old, yet full of sharp pleasure. âyou give yourself so easily. and yetâŠâ
he trailed a finger along the inside of your thigh, grazing softly over the surface cuts his claw left. the blood was no longer runny, yet the pads of his fingers managed to get stained by that gorgeous shade of red.
ââŠyou donât know who youâre feeding.â
tom riddle. he was here. real. awake. alive again because of you.
but the maskâŠ
his hand reached towards it on instinct, curling around its edge â only to stop. the ancient magic pulsed beneath his fingertips, a stark, screaming warning.
someone else has to remove the mask.
he growled, low in his chest. frustration laced with lust. the mask itched like a wound. it burned. but he couldnât take it off. he couldnât be free of the curse completely.
not unless you chose to unmake the curse yourself.
his frustration bloomed, tightening in his chest and sinking down to his aching cock â flushed and rigid, twitching in the thick heat that clung to your room.
you had no idea what youâd done, what youâd awakened. your skin glimmered with sweat and sleep, and your thighs parted in lazy invitation as if your body already sensed his arousal.
tom let out a ragged breath, the porcelain mask creaking as his jaw flexed beneath it. you⊠you were so open, so willing, even in your unconsciousness. his fingers gripped the edge of the mattress, blunt nails digging in, and thenâ
he slipped onto the bed.
the weight didnât stir you. you were floating somewhere deep, still dreaming of being touched, still mewling quietly as your hips gave those needy little tilts. tomâs hand traced your thigh with more vigor, fingertips ghosting along the curve until they met the material of your ruined panties. slick had soaked through the cotton, cold and wet and heavenly.
he pressed his human thumb to your clothed cunt and felt it throb.
you gasped softly.
your back arched away from the mattress, and that was enough â enough invitation for him to part your thighs further, to press himself between them. he crawled up, one slow inch at a time, until he was nestled between your warm and plush thighs. his cock droop lower and rested against your core, hard and heavy, smearing precum across the sticky fabric of your underwear.
a moan slipped from his mouth, stifled by the porcelain.
he throbbed against you, dragging his cock along your clothed cunt â back and forth, slow, sinuous ruts that had your hips responding even in sleep. your slick mixed with the clear wetness leaking from his tip, making everything impossibly slippery and filthy.
tom bit down a groan and pressed harder, rocking against your clit in desperate rolls.
âfuckââ the word was cracked, feral. âyou donât know what youâre doing to me.â
you whimpered.
your legs shifted around him, instinctively wrapping at his hips, pulling him closer. he nearly collapsed against you with the force of it. the movement made his cock slip beneath your drenched panties, caging his throbbing cock underneath.
and gifting tom the sweet feeling of your warm bare cunt.
tom braced himself over you, panting now, a man on the edge of madness. his hands gripped your thighs, possessive and reverent, his thumbs digging into the soft skin above your knees as he spread you wider.
âi could tear you apart.â he growled. âsplit you open. make you scream.â
but he only rutted harder outside of your pussy, cock sliding along your slit in steady, greedy thrusts. every drag of the swollen head over your clit made your hole twitch with desperation. your panties, weighted down by the combined arousal, felt heavenly on his sensitive tip, each rock of his hips widening the bulging form of the material.
and he knew you were close again. his voice was barely human now, breaking and desperate.
âi would eat you alive if i could.â he snarled. âbury my face in your sweet, sinful cunt and lap it all up until you sob.â
but the mask wouldnât let him.
that damn mask â sealed by his own sins, fused to his soul. his mouth could not touch you. he could not taste you.
he sobbed once, the sound ragged and low and filled with longing. his thrusts slowed, dragging his cock over your cunt again and again, clinging to the edge of release.
he wanted to cum.
he wanted to bury it inside you, flood your insides, mark you with something real. but not like this â with you unconscious, unaware.
not yet. not until you beg for it.
tom exhaled hard, sweat beading at the base of his throat beneath the mask, his hands trembling where they held your thighs apart. every muscle in his body was alive with tension. with hunger. and yet he waited; because as much as he wanted to ruin you, to defile every inch of you while you lay helpless and pretty beneath him⊠he needed you awake.
he needed to see you beg.
so he moved his hand, slowly, and this time â he gripped your throat.
your body jolted, the shift immediate. your back arched, breath catching in your lungs, a panicked little gasp slipping from your lips. your hands groped weakly at the sheets, thighs tensing around his waist. his fingers tightened, not cruelly.
no. not to hurt.
just to hold. to wake.
âwake up.â tom hissed, his voice low and coaxing and cruel all at once, fingers flexing around your neck.
your eyes fluttered.
and then â they opened.
wide. glassy. dazed. confused.
you blinked up at him, body still sluggish with the heavy fog of sleep and orgasm. for a moment, you just lay there beneath him, staring into the void of the mask â at those inhuman eyes glowing behind it. your brows furrowed; your lips parted.
ââŠtommy?â
he laughed â a dry, bitter sound, cock still grinding just enough to keep your cunt wet and twitching beneath him. ânot dreaming anymore, darling?â
you shivered, pupils expanding. he could see the moment the haze of fear touched your features â your gaze darted downwards to the way your thighs were spread open around his hips, to the heat of his bare cock pressed against your ruined pussy. the realization hit you in waves: the wetness; the closeness; him.
and then, your hands slowly rose.
but you didnât fight him.
no. you cradled his wrist where it held your throat. your lips trembled, but not with fear.
ââŠyouâre real.â
tom didnât answer. didnât have to. the air between you was already too thick with the truth. you swallowed â a struggle, with his fingers still curled around your neck â but then you whispered your devious desire.
âplease⊠fuck me.â
tom grunted, pleased with your words, hips jutting with more force against your cunt, tip bumping into your perky clit over and over again. you arched your hips again, this time with volition, dragging your cunt along the underside of his cock. your lips were parted in invitation, your voice thick with desperation.
âfuck me.â you whispered again, softer this time, almost reverential. âi want you to. need you to.â
he groaned again, deep and guttural, his cock twitching violently between your folds. his fingers released your throat only to drag down your chest, trembling. one hand slid under your shirt, cupping a bare breast, squeezing until you moaned. the other dipped between your legs again, thumb brushing over your ruined panties â still soaked, still hot.
you were so ready.
he leaned closer, his breath brushing your lips even through the mask.
âsay it again.â he demanded. âbeg nicely for it.â
your eyes didnât waver. your hips rocked up once more, desperate and sweet and oh so willing.
âplease, tom⊠please fuck me. make it real.â
he whispered your name â a sound of victory and hunger â and in one swift motion, he pressed his fingers over your panties, redirecting the head of his cock down to your entrance.Â
tom pushed in without a second thought, feeding you his cock in one swift motion.
you gasped â loud and broken â fingers clenching the sheets as he sank into you. he was thick, hot, impossibly deep from the first thrust. the stretch was unbearable and perfect, making your back jump off the bed as your cunt fluttered helplessly around him.
âfuckkkkk.â you breathed, voice ragged. âyouâreâ youâre inside me.â
tom hissed, driving forward until his hips met yours, bottoming out with a brutal final thrust. your pussy clenched hard in response, pulling him in like you didnât want to let him go â and you didnât.
his hands gripped your thighs again, holding you still, your slick leaking out around his cock, dripping down onto the sheets. the heat of you was overwhelming. he was growling â snarling really â each roll of his hips grinding deep, deliberate, as if he wanted to carve his shape into you.
and he did, the bulge in your tummy taking his form with every sharp thrust.
he wanted to own every soft, trembling inch of you.
âfeel that?â he panted, voice thick and trembling behind the mask, hand jumping from your leg to your tummy. pressing down on his shape, making your eyes roll back in pleasure.
âyouâre mine now, darling. every inch, every drop of you.â
you whined, nodding feverishly, your hands rising to grab at him. your nails dragged over the cold, painted porcelain of the mask before slipping into his hair and slightly tugging at it.
but it wasnât enough.
you needed him.
all of him.
âi want to sâsee you.â you moaned, your cunt squeezing around his cock as you said it. âi want to see your face.â
tom stilled.
for a heartbeat, he just loomed over you â panting, trembling, the muscles in his arms shaking with restraint. then, slowly, he reached up, hands quivering, and wrapped his fingers around your own, pushing them towards the edge of his mask.
âtake it off, darling.â
he encouraged you, voice dripping with venomous honey. he disguised his liberation moment into an intimate activity reserved just for you. and you, so mesmerized by tom, did feel special as you gripped at the porcelain and lifted it completely off his face in one go.
it felt heavy in between your palms, but the weight was soon forgotten as your eyes finally met the face of your devilish man. his face was pale, drawn tight with lust and hunger. his eyes â dark, glowing, cursed â were locked on you. his mouth, twisted with need, curved into a smirk of longing and disbelief.
âbeautiful.â you breathed.
and thatâs all it took.
tom slammed back into you, his now-unmasked mouth crashing against your throat, teeth dragging down your skin â lapping and biting across the purple marks his vengeful fingers left â as he fucked you like a man possessed. his cock pistoned into you, deep and relentless, wet slaps echoing off the walls as your arms fall back on the bed, over your head.
âtomâ fuck, fuck, fuuuckââ
you cried out, sobbing his name, legs clinging to him like salvation. your pussy squeezed around him, milking every inch, every thrust. and when he growled against your ear, you screamed for him, over and over again.
âmine. say youâre mine.â
âyours, yours, tom, iâm yoursâ!â
he came with a shattered groan, burying himself to the hilt, flooding your cunt with sticky cum. his arms gripped you tightly, keeping you caged beneath him as you shook through your own release, sobbing into your pillow.
with his vision cleared, now no longer obstructed by the damned porcelain, tom admired the mess he had made of you. your panties, still wet against your pussy, were now painted in creamy white from both of your releases. your shirt was bunched up over your tits. your hair was completely ruffled, sticking to your skin from all the sweat.
but something else caught his attention â the mask, still sitting untouched between your weakened fingers, shining almost horrifyingly back at tom. and then he felt it, the way more of your energy poured into him, just like before.
he was still cursed. the mask was still his.
tom exhaled raggedly, head falling to the crook of your neck where he licked the sweat from your skin. you whimpered, blissed-out and pliant, legs loose around his waist, arms limp above your head. your cunt still pulsed around him, every flutter making more of your combined release spill out.
but he was restless.
the curse still gnawed at him.
your warmth, your blood, your pleasure â all of it fed him, but not enough. not truly. his hunger was deeper than skin and sin. it was soul-deep.
and the mask, even discarded, still laughed silently at him from the bed sheets. still had control over his spirit.
no.
that wonât do.
âdarling.â he whispered, his voice now like velvet soaked in venom. âyou look so perfect like this⊠so full of me.â
you sighed, soft and dazed, your fingers twitching slightly around the cold porcelain you still held unawarely.
âmm⊠tom.â you murmured, voice sleepy and ruined. âi feel⊠strange. warm.â
âi know.â he cooed, brushing his knuckles down your cheek. âyouâve given me so much already. but thereâs one more thing i wantâŠâ
you blinked slowly, like a doll winding down, your eyes barely focusing.
tom leaned in, his cursed, beautiful face only inches from yours. his mouth hovered above your lips, breath sweet with the scent of lust and something darker.
your eyes fluttered closed in anticipation â waiting for his kiss.
but he didnât give it.
instead, his hand moved.
in one graceful, eerie motion, tom slid his hand over your jaw, fingers gentle⊠before curling tightly under your chin, tilting your head back.
and then â slowly, deliberately â he dragged the porcelain mask down.
over your hair.
over your eyes.
over your mouth.
your eyes snapped open in alarm as the bone-white surface pressed down on your face like stone, like a curse latching onto flesh. you gasped â but the sound was swallowed by the mask's power as it crept across your skin, hollow and hungry.
ânoâ tom, waitâ!â
your fingers twitched once. then again.
then they stopped.
your body stiffened â then softened.
tom watched, his breath shuddering as your skin took on a soft, plush-like texture. the glow of life dimmed in your eyes as they glassed over, mouth shut down in a slightly curved line.
the curse flared out his body like fire. his hunger â his unending need â was suddenly satisfied. your entire life force poured into him in a hot, radiant flood.
freeing him.
he looked down at you â at the perfect doll lying beneath him, hair still messy atop of the mask, shirt still weirdly draped over your miniature and lifeless body.
and he smiled.
âoh, my darling.â he whispered again, voice hushed with something sinister yet triumphant.
he cupped your porcelain face and pressed a tender kiss to your glossy forehead.
âyouâll stay like this for now. but donât worry⊠iâll wake you again.â
tom gathered you in his arms â his beautiful, cursed doll â and held you close, cherishing you like you did with his doll form.
Summary: Kinktober 2025 Day 6 - Mind Games. Riddle is only attached to one person, even if he wishes it were none. He realises he will soon lose access to her once they graduate, and he really can't have that...
Tags: Toxic behaviour, Manipulation, Fingering, Multiple orgasms, Horcruxes, Being under the influence of a horcrux, Mildly dubious consent, Mentions of murder, Obsessive/Possessive!TomRiddle, Sex magic/Vibration spell, Use your words, Good girl.
Word count: 3.7k
all fandom masterlist | hp masterlist | read it on ao3
Authors note: Riddle in this is really toxic and not a good guy!! I wanted to go heavier on the whole mind games thing but I just kept feeling like it was too much like my one Snape fic... Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ââĄâ)㣠âĄ
READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!!!
âčàšà§ïž¶ïž¶âč
Riddle had formed an attachment to you by pure accident. He hadnât even looked your way once when, in the fifth year, the two of you were paired up for prefect patrols. He peripherally registered that you were beautiful, but he didnât spend much time with thoughts like these generally, just kept them in mind. Beautiful girls could have a lot of influence without realising it, heâd found, so he maintained polite relationships with a few, just in case he should need them for something. It started that way with you, too; he had been polite so that your patrols together could be tolerable, and if he sorely needed a favour from you some day, you may be suggestible to it. Yet, you had surprised him. Initially having dismissed you as nothing but a pretty face, heâd been incredibly surprised to learn you were an excellent healer, talented far beyond your years. The two of you had come across a few second years at the edge of the forbidden forest, one of whom had been badly injured by some vicious magical plant he hadnât seen in the dark of the night. You had been able to cast some healing charms and use some nearby magical plants to keep the boy stable until Riddle could fetch the matron from the hospital wing to take over. The matron had complimented you profusely, implying that your ability with the spells had saved the boy's life. Riddleâs opinion of you shifted immediately; you were a valuable person to know if he ever found himself in trouble. As the two of you continued your patrol, he subtly questioned you about the display he had just seen. You explained that you were fascinated with all types of healing magic, teaching yourself in your free time and researching ferociously.Â
From that day onward, Riddle formed an odd fascination with you. Despite him seeing healing magic as a soft subject, he couldnât deny that no one in Hogwarts, other than himself, was able to teach themself such high-level magic. You were clearly dedicated, and unfortunately, healing was incredibly necessary in his future plans. As the years passed and his ambitions formed, he increasingly pictured you there by his side, healing him as he explored the darkest magic, perhaps providing your services to his Knights, but primarily for him. After that day, the two of you had begun discussing magic and potions during your patrols, building a camaraderie that Riddle had with no one else. You would even listen to his discoveries regarding dark magic, though he posed it as wondering how you might heal someone from such spells. He didnât know if you were oblivious or just willing to turn a blind eye, but you were always willing to indulge these discussions, often returning to him with research on the topic youâd done in your own time, fascinated by the challenge of healing people from such obscure dark magic.Â
Although he resented the word, the two of you were undoubtedly friends. He had started to realise his attachment to you had grown out of hand, frequently finding himself distracted by the flush of your cheeks or the curve of your lips as the two of you spoke. He was not easily distracted. Graduation was rapidly approaching, meaning his access to you would likely end. He was sure you would write to him, sentimental as you were, but he needed more than that. You were the only person he trusted to heal him if anything were to go wrong with his plans. Yet, he knew he could not simply come out and ask you to come live with him after graduation. The two of you were not that close; he had seen to that himself, hoping the hold you had over him would disappear with a little distance. It had not, in fact, the longer he was apart from you, the more irritable he felt.Â
So, slowly, he began spending more time with you. Finding you in the library and sitting down beside you without a word, drawing you away from your friends on Hogsmeade trips with the promise of interesting books to show you, then plying you with coffee and cake to stay with him rather than return to your friends. As exams approach, he invites you to study with him in his dorm for some peace and quiet, as the library is getting busier each passing day. His single dorm, courtesy of his role as Head Boy, gives him a great opportunity to get you accustomed to his presence in close quarters. You spread out to study on his bed, surrounded by his scent as he sits at the desk, smug, because lately youâve been asking him if you can come here, rather than him inviting you. He would subtly suggest that heâd heard your friends making cruel remarks about you on occasion, thrilled when it worked as planned, and you withdrew from them, coming to spend even more time with him.
The creation of his first Horcrux had been an accident. He had planned to start the process after graduation, intending to seek out his Muggle father and grandparents. But fate had different plans. Every few weeks, he went to check on the Basilisk that resided in the Chamber of Secrets under the school, keeping her fed and loyal until he intended to utilise her sometime after graduation. One evening, upon returning from the Chamber, he noticed that he had himself a witness, Myrtle Warren, who immediately began shrieking. He hadnât even meant to do it, panicking and speaking parseltongue, unleashing the basilisk onto the girl, who quickly went quiet. He only realised what had happened when he saw a part of his soul split from his body, looking for an object in which to settle. He scrambled; he hadnât intended for this to happen so early, but he had to make sure he didnât damage his soul by leaving it without a vessel for too long. He had very little with him, but in his bag, he found a necklace he had been planning to gift to you as a birthday present. Heâd been carrying it around since he bought it so that you wouldnât find it prematurely. Running out of time, he directed the shard of his soul into the necklace.Â
Only that night, safely hidden now in his room, did he consider what gifting you this necklace might mean. He found he liked the idea of you carrying around a piece of him a little too much, like he was staking a claim. His soulâs constant presence was likely to make you feel even more connected to him, and him to you. The gift of a necklace from Riddle surprised you, but you were drawn to it, admiring it and quickly putting it on, him moving your hair aside and clasping it around your neck for you. Heâd told you it looked beautiful on you and you had blushed deeply.
The necklace had unexpected effects on you, the dark magic radiating from it affecting you, making you irritable with others and causing you to want to withdraw socially, amplifying some of your worst impulses. Riddle didnât mind so much; it was achieving many of his plans for him. The fear caused by the death at Hogwarts, along with the influence of the Horcrux at your neck, had you gravitating toward Riddle more and more to feel safe and calm, convinced nothing bad could happen to you with him there to protect you. Riddle accepts your presence with open arms, glad to get to keep a close eye on both you and the necklace. He has impressed upon you many times to never take off the necklace and to keep it safe, and you had kept your word so far, but he preferred to keep an eye just in case. He subtly reinforced your feelings, telling you that you would always be safe with him, and that you couldnât trust anybody else, as no one knew how Myrtle had died.Â
Finally, with the perfect storm of his manipulation, the effect of the Horcrux and the fear he had inadvertently awakened throughout the school, he was able to convince you to stay the night with him in his room. He may have had one of his Knightâs frighten you on your walk back from his room last night, but no matter what heâd done to get here, he finally had you where he wanted you, wanting to spend all your time, even your most vulnerable, with him.Â
Youâd brought a small overnight bag on patrol with you, clinging to Riddleâs arm as the two of you did your rounds, afraid. Riddle almost felt bad for you, but mostly, he just felt a dark satisfaction creeping through him at your reliance on him for a sense of safety. He knew you were in no real danger; he was the threat, and he would never harm you⊠not physically anyway. He only wanted what was best for you, and by the time his plans came to fruition, the safest place for you would undoubtedly be under his protection. Not to mention how much your presence could benefit his cause and how much he needed to have you close by so he could watch over you and his soul that you took such good care of. He felt a sense of warmth each time you fiddled with the necklace at your neck, as if you were touching his soul. If it had been anyone else, the feeling would have undoubtedly been invasive, repulsive even, but as it was you, he merely felt a little aroused.
As soon as the two of you could feasibly be considered done with your patrol, you dashed off to his Head Boy dorm, making sure not to be caught. Once inside, Riddle wanted to pounce on you, your constant fiddling with the necklace having filled him with need, but he knew he had to wait, taking a calming breath. He couldnât afford to scare you off, not yet, while you still had places to run and people to seek comfort in. He had to be gentle, romantic even, and you were the only person in the world for whom he was willing to pretend. Besides, he had a plan for tonight that he couldnât ruin by acting too early. He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, looking down at you.
âThe door is locked, darling, no one can get in, we are safe, get yourself ready for bed,â he murmurs in his best attempt at reassurance. His hand trails featherlight to the necklace at your neck, then withdraws. Heâd been touchier these last few weeks, getting you gradually used to him, so you donât flinch despite the intimate touch, merely nodding nervously and heading into the attached toilet. You unpack your small bag, brushing your teeth, washing your face and securing your hair before changing into your nightgown. You blush as you look at yourself in the mirror. You had intentionally packed your shortest nightgown, but now that you were actually here with Riddle, your confidence was faltering. Still, you had nothing else with you, so you crept out into his room and slid into the bed shyly. Riddleâs eyes fix on you curiously, the necklace around your neck running hot as he looks at you. Still trying not to frighten you, he slowly heads into the bathroom, getting himself ready for bed. As he brushes his teeth, he hears distant thunder, smirking to himself. He knew you were quite jumpy, especially lately, so this would give him the perfect opportunity to make you feel safe and secure.Â
Once he joins you in the bed once more, youâre already trembling nervously, jumping at each thunder clap, convinced it was someone trying to break down the door, despite knowing better. He laughs at you, softly, the mocking not detectable over your intense nerves, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close, pleased when you immediately curl into his chest.Â
âIâm scared,â you squeak, balling your hands into the soft material of his night shirt. He tuts gently.
âI see that, darling, youâre shaking like a little leaf,â he says, rubbing your back slightly. âBut I wonât let any harm come to you, ever,â he assures, a dark current running through his voice. You whimper as thunder booms once more, hiding your face in his shoulder. Riddle feels his patience thinning slightly. You were a highly intelligent witch, yet you were so afraid of thunder, even when he had sworn to you that youâd be safe. âDo you hear me?â he asks slowly, trying not to let his annoyance show. He grabs your chin, tilting your head so youâre forced to meet his eye. âNo harm will come to you so long as youâre with me, I swear to you, you have no reason to fear, do you hear me?â You nod nervously. Riddle huffs. âWords.â
âYes⊠I hear you,â you stammer, clinging to him. His hand drops from your chin, fiddling with your necklace. Itâs strange that he cannot feel his own touch on it, yet he is still drawn to the object all the time. âBut what aboutââ you begin.
âNo, you are safe with me,â he whispers through his teeth. âNow stop trembling, itâs ridiculous,â Riddle spots from the drop in your expression that he wasnât meant to say that. He takes a deep breath; he isnât well practised in this compassion thing, but heâs performing it the best he can. âI just mean that I donât want you to feel frightened, darling,â he says as softly as he can, pressing a kiss to your hair. This seems to placate you a little. He rubs your side gently, feeling the shape of your body beneath his hand. The feeling of arousal from earlier wakes up within him as he touches your body freely for the first time. And you arenât stopping him, just looking up at him as he touches you, your trembling subsiding and changing shape into excitement. He can sense it too, and he figures it's time for him to act. âLet me relax you, show you thereâs nothing to worry about when Iâm around,â he husks, pressing his lips to your temple, just needing to feel your bare flesh beneath his lips somehow. His hand sneaks down to your thigh, settling below the hem of your nightgown. âWould you like that?â When you nod, he huffs. âWords,â he repeats, his voice tight.Â
âYes,â you whisper, shy and apologetic, trying to focus on his hand caressing your thigh rather than the sound of thunder.Â
âWas that so hard?â he tuts, pushing up the hem of your nightgown, his other arm still wrapped firmly around your waist. His hand seeks out the warmth between your legs, pressing against you through the fabric of your underwear. You jolt, not having expected things to escalate so quickly âFocus on me,â he reminds you harshly as your eyes flick to the window at a flash of lightning, rubbing against you forcefully, making you whimper. Your head spins at how fast this has escalated. Riddleâs hand spreads your thighs forcefully, then returns to rubbing at you over your underwear, his fingers swirling over the spot that makes your whole body twitch. You look up at him, not wanting him to tell you off again. His eyes are dark as he looks down at you, full of something you canât place. As he removes your underwear, you try to lean up and kiss him, but he pulls away, shaking his head. âNot yet, darling,â he chastises, pushing your underwear down to pool at your ankles and returning his hand between your legs, rubbing at your now bare skin. He can feel the sticky arousal pooling as he rubs at your clit roughly yet pleasurably. You whimper softly at the feeling, embarrassment decorating your cheeks, yet you donât want him to stop. Your necklace feels hot against your skin, your head spinning as Riddle begins to speak once more. âDoesnât that feel nice? Your body certainly likes it⊠Only I can make you feel this way,â he whispers, lips brushing your ear, breath washing over the side of your neck.
âIt feels nice,â you choke out in response, squirming a little, unable to believe how quickly you allowed him to do this. Sure, youâd been attracted to him a long time, but you had been so scared just earlier, and now your body was begging for him, like you were under the influence of something, something deeply desperate.Â
âThatâs a good girl,â he hums, immensely pleased with your compliance. He withdraws his hand for a moment, making you whine, looking up at him in confusion. Riddle grabs his wand from the nightstand, mumbling a few quiet words. You only get a split-second to wonder what heâs cast when you feel a soft buzzing against your clit. Your body jolts in surprise, but the feeling simply follows, making you gasp for breath. Riddle pulls down your squirming hips harshly, holding you in place as his other hand returns between your legs, two of his fingers beginning to ease inside of you without much warning. You gasp, your hips trying to thrash but being unable, the vibrating not faltering for a second. âThatâs it, doesnât that feel good?â he coos, watching his fingers disappear within you with a dark satisfaction. You are most certainly his now. You canât respond with anything but a breathless whine, the onslaught of sensations barely letting you breathe. You feel your brain turning to mush, no longer able to form cohesive thoughts beyond his fingers pumping in and out of you and the ceaseless vibration on your most sensitive spot. Trying to ground yourself, your nails dig into his arm, a drawn-out moan of his name leaving your lips, legs closing around his arm as his fingers begin to pump faster.Â
You feel yourself teetering on the precipice, not having the presence of mind to let Riddle know. Your eyes roll back, your toes curling, and your lips parting in a silent shout as the waves of pleasure go through you. You feel dizzy, your hips trying once more to withdraw from the sensations, yet being physically unable. Riddle's lips brush your ear.Â
âShhh, shhh, youâre a strong girl, I know you can handle it,â he comforts mockingly, continuing to work you through the waves of pleasure, yet not stopping even as they subside. Your whole body shakes, unable to handle the sensations, even as a warm, syrupy feeling lingers in the pit of your stomach. His fingers press against a soft spot deep within you, making you jolt. You hadnât realised the sensations could get even more intense. You want to tell him to slow down, but something keeps you quiet, makes you lean into him instead of away and makes you feel warm when he bites your neck to leave a mark. Your mind is hazy from the vibrations, and he knows it. âYouâre safe with me,â he whispers in your ear, his voice rough. âYou canât trust anyone but me. Iâm all you need,â he grunts, curling his fingers against that spongy spot once more. âYou donât need anyone else, you belong with me and me alone,â he hisses, biting your neck once more. âSay it, you belong to me,â he urges, growling in annoyance when you only whimper. âSay. It.â he demands harshly, his hand on your hips slipping up into your hair, pulling it so youâre forced to look up at him.Â
âI belong to you,â you choke out, squirming, too hazy to register his words properly, but vulnerable enough to digest them, just as he wants you.Â
âThat you do, good girl,â he growls, rewarding you for your declaration by finally pressing his lips to yours, measuredly gentle amid the onslaught of sensation between your legs. You try to follow him as he pulls away, and he tuts at you. âOnly if you say it again,â
âI belong to you,â you moan, desperate for his gentleness, needing him as close as possible. He smirks, pleased that heâs got you. He grants you another gentle kiss, and another and another as you repeat your words over and over. He doesnât tire of hearing it, especially with that desperation in your voice. His kisses, soft yet burning hot, push you to the edge once more, your hand balling into his pyjama shirt in an attempt to ground yourself again, but itâs no use. The pleasure makes you dizzy all over again, pleading with him against his lips. Your body collapses against the bed heavily; you hadnât even realised that youâd tensed yourself off of it chasing Riddleâs lips, breathless and oversensitive. Riddle reaches for his wand, ending the vibrating spell, satisfied that youâve been subjected to his charms enough for the night. You lay there beside him, still clearly out of sorts. He smirks down at you, rubbing your thigh as if to comfort you.Â
âAlright, my darling?â he asks, knowing that he had just completely overwhelmed you. That had been his intention, and it seemed to have worked like heâd hoped, as you curl into him once more, seeking safety and comfort. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close and letting you feel protected. He was sure he would only have to do this a few more times until you would be ready to hear about his plans for you in the future. You might even be ready now, but it was better to be safe than sorry, and anyway, next time he was going to fuck you properly, have his way with you like he really wants. For that, you had to be ready. He feels you touch your necklace, and it sends a pleasant jolt through him. âWhatâs got you fiddling?â he asks gently.
âJust felt compelled to touch it,â you shrug, your voice hoarse and weak. He presses a kiss to your forehead. He feels the gentle, warm caresses deep in his soul.
âTouch it all you like, darling, itâs yours after all.â
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âËđ Perfect Little Doll.
Short Summary: Tom Riddle is quite laid-back when it comes to youâbut under the effect of a Lust Potion, he just takes what he wantsâhowever he wants.
Warnings: 18+ only! consensual non consent. somno, sex under the effect of a lust potion, rough sex, choking, unprotected p in v, sex with little to no prep, creampie
A/N: I got the highest grade possible for my thesis, you get filthy smut! Win-win.
wordcount: 1,2k
âNo, stayâ stay like this.â
Itâs the first thing you hear when you stir awake in the middle of the night. You try to moveâbut something, or rather someone, is making sure you have no choice but to stay trapped beneath them.
âPlease, noââ panic rises in your chest as you struggle under their weightâbut itâs no use.
âShh. Itâs me. Be good and stay still.â
This time, you recognize the voice, and you exhale a shuddering breath, relaxing just slightly.
Itâs Tom.
Lying on your front, you donât get to meet his expression, hell, you donât even get to fucking ask what heâs doingâ
Because you already feel him pressing against your entrance, tip hot and flushed, leaking with needâand with a single, measured thrust, he pushes inside. Deep.
âFuckââ you shriek at the sudden, stinging stretch. âTom, that hurts!â
As you reach behind you, trying to push him away, give you time to adjust, he instantly pins your wrists to your back.
âI knowâ fuck, I know.â He grumbles, yet shows no intent to stop. Instead, he pulls out, pushing back inside immediatelyâdrawing another sharp gasp from you. âGo back to sleep, sweetheart.â
You donât know exactly whatâs gotten into him. Yes, you both agreed upon this, that he could use you when you were asleepâand that you could tell him to stop whenever you actually wanted toâbut never had he been this eager.
âTom, pleaseââ you try again, whimpering at the burning, unrelenting stretch. His hand finds its way into your hair, lifting your head slightly just to push you into the pillow beneath youâmuffling your whines.
His hips rock forward once more, testing, trying how much you can take.
âYou will be quiet and take it, alright? Be a good girl for me?â He mumbles, voice coming out raspy, laced with need. He withdraws then, only halfway this timeâ
Just to snap his hips forward again, tip harshly ramming against your sensitive cervixâa feeling that has you biting your lips so hard, you taste blood.
âGod, Tom!â You yelp, hips involuntarily bucking against his in an attempt to free yourselfâbut it only results in him slipping deeper, drawing a low groan from the brunette.
Slowly, he starts rolling his hips against yours, still buried deep, brows furrowed, breathing heavily through his slightly parted lips at just how tight you feel around him.
Finally, his hand leaves your hair, allowing you to inhale a deep breathâlungs burning from the lack of oxygen as you do. Just a mere second later, itâs wrapped around your neck instead, pushing you down once more.
Heâs got you exactly how he likes youâone leg angled to your side, his body trapping yours between him and the bed, fingers pressing into your pulse point, enough to make you feel light-headed. Hips flush with yours, ass pressed against his pelvisâit makes his head spin. He needs to have you, take youânow.
âSlipped me this potionâ told me it was for sobering upâ fuck, sweetheart, youâre tight.â He groans, a deep, low sound somewhere from the back of his throat, feeling him twitch inside you.
It all comes crashing down onto you. Why he is like this.
They made him drink a Lust Potion.
Judging by the fact that he didnât even second-guess before downing itâmust mean heâs had a decent amount of drinks as well.
All of that, combined with the effects of the potionâturned him into this.
You donât get to think about the situation for much longer and what you could do to ease the effectsâthe slow drag of his cock against your walls as he starts thrusting into you efficiently short-circuiting your brain.
He doesnât ease you into it. After one or two thrusts, he picks up his pace, hips snapping against yours as though itâs the last time he gets to have you.
Tom usually isnât the most vocal. Yes, he enjoys itâloves it, evenâwhen he can pin you down and fuck you into the mattress until you are begging for him to let you come. But, just like outside of your sacred four walls, he likes to keep his composureâeven during the most intimate acts.
In short: he hates losing control.
But nowâheâs moaning, whimpering even at how sensitive he isâat how good and warm you feel, wrapped tightly around him.
Itâs making your brain fuzzy. Everything about it. How you are slowly loosening up for him, allowing him to increase his pace, how your own arousal makes it even easier for him to thrust deep.
âTaking me so well, sweetheart.â Tom praises, breathless, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the otherwise quiet bedroom. âLike this pussy was fucking made for me, fitting me like a damn gloveââ
And at this point you are praying you would survive this.
His thrusts grow rougher, punishing almost, brushing against your cervix with every single snap of his hips. His hand wraps around your throat, cutting off your airflow once more as he feels himself getting close.
âFuck, darlingâ going to let me fill you up, hm? Make you nice and full of me?â He grits out, staying pressed flush against you for a second, making you feel all of himâevery vein, every ridgeâevery. single. inch.
You nod as best as you can, clenching down tight around him.
âPlease Tom, please fill me upâ need it, fuckââ
He groans at that, cursing under his breath.
âGood girl. Such a perfect little doll, all nice and pliant for meââ
Itâs not long until his pace falters, hips stuttering against your ownâand he groans lowly as he starts spilling deep inside of you, coating your walls with his warm release.
He collapses on top of youâbreathing heavily against your neck, chest heavingâand although your mind is still hazy with your own pleasure, your thoughts drift back to what happened before he returned to your home.
Knowing them, you guess itâs Rosier and Mulciber who did it. Probably thought it was hilarious, too.
You arenât sure if you should feel bad for the fact that you donât know what Tom would come up with as punishment.
Because hellâthey are not the ones who have to put up with him like this.
Meanwhile, Tom is still buried deep, keeping his release right where it belongsâbut then, when his breathing returns to normal, he gives you the slightest roll of his hipsâ
âSaid it would take three hours to wear offââ
And you already feel him growing hard again.
Fuck, you are screwed.
âTom, pleaseââ
He shushes you with a kiss on top of your head.
âNo. Stayâ need youâ need you again.â He rasps, back to thrusting into you, fucking his cum even deeper as heâs back chasing his next climax. And you? You are right there with him, on the precipice of your own orgasm.
Merlin fucking help you.
If he wonât kill them for this, you might just do it yourself.
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masterlist. | oneshots.
Summary: Being Head Girl with Tom Riddle seems like it could be beneficial for you until all hell broke loose and you realize why everyone stays away, or at least you shouldâŠ
Pairing: Tom Riddle x Fem!reader
Warnings: SMUT 18+ mdni, p in v, somewhat public sex, use of legilimency, he is lowkey a cocky shit, teasing, brief dryhumping, pantie stealing, obsessed!Tom, creampie, marking, exhibition, lowkey probably more but I'm tired lol.
A/n: First fic getting back into writing, it's been a while, also my first smuttt! :P Link for Ao3
When it comes to Hogwarts, plenty of names stick out, but to you, it's Tom Riddle.
A brilliant and very adept wizard of your year. Throughout your years at the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you learned that Tom bested everyone in plenty of subjects, even if he didnât particularly care for them. You were clever and talented. Most people saw it, though they ignored it, because he surpassed everyone. Head Girl held you to a high standard. Youâre in charge of all the prefects, and the position demands a lot from you. At the end of the day, however, it is just another thing people watch you excel at.
 Sure, you had bad days, but nobody's perfect⊠including the one and only Tom Riddle.Â
The two of you used to be friends, or so you thoughtâŠWhen a rumor was started by one of the Knights, Avery, Tom did not even try to preserve your friendship. While the rumor spread, he watched it affect you in everything. Losing the influence you had as prefect and now head girl was most disappointing to you. You tried to work on getting your stride back, but being head girl with Tom as head boy was hard. You both shared similar duties on the grounds of the castle. Sometimes you even had to converse, which was hard since Tom never cared to speak with you, not that you did either. He mainly avoided you. You wondered if he still cared. He mainly spoke with his so-called âfriends,â who are essentially his glorified followers.Â
After potions class, you walked through the hall briskly, spotting Tom standing near the wall, listening to Avery. He was blabbering about something Tom probably deemed trivial, apparent by his lack of any emotion. As you passed the two, you didnât even look over. Tom called your name, which caused you to stop walking. You turned to look at him, slightly annoyed. You almost rolled your eyes upon your name leaving his mouth. Once he deemed to have enough of your attention, he opened his mouth.Â
âDumbledore asked us to aid the prefects with patrolling the corridors tonight,â Riddle stated flatly.Â
âAny particular reason?â you replied in the same tone, annoyed to even be talking to him, giving him the same treatment of the displeasure he seems to hold for you.Â
You stood far enough that other students walked in between the two of you. Something you did to make sure he knew good terms were far from reach with you. As you stood, you watched him struggle not to show his disapproval with your tone. He looked aggrieved and frustrated at more than just the reply that you just vocalized. Â
âSlytherin is celebrating the Quidditch win. Dumbledore wants the halls to be clear of lingering students.â Tom says, causing you to roll your eyes.Â
âWhatever,â you scoff out, before walking away down the hall.Â
Soon⊠You walk through the halls and patrol near the dungeons where Slytherin's dormitories are. Itâs late, the dungeons are dark, lit by candles in the sconces on the walls, and Lumos that lights your wand. You get to a part of the dungeons where most Slytherin students linger due to a passageway leading to a different part of the castle. That's when you spot him, Tom stands near the passageway, his dark figure looming near the doorway.Â
âYou're not supposed to be over here, Riddle.â You say curtly, narrowing your eyes to make him out more clearly in the dim hallway.
âI finished patrolling where I was supposed to be,â Tom says coldly as he faces you, no longer looking cryptic in the dark lighting.Â
âSo help the other prefects, not me, we are head students for a reason. I donât need to be babysat.â You reply, bothered by his constant watchful eye. He always seemed to linger, always watching. You assumed he was making sure you could handle yourself. It's like he wanted a reason to know you're failing at the position, even after everything, it felt like he was rubbing salt into the wound.Â
âTheyâre boring. My time is valuable.â Tom says, stepping into the area that was illuminated by your wand. Â
âSince when did you deem me intriguing again? Seems I was boring you all this time.â You reply exasperated, your face showing an unconvincing look.Â
âIntriguing is not what I would say; you were never dull,â he replies, as if it were nothing special. Upon seeing the raised brow on your face, he spoke.Â
âOh, donât let it feed your ego,â he adds, a dry scoff from his lips.Â
âYou canât let me have anything, can you?â You retort, annoyed by this whole situation and him. His presence aggravates you, and your past feelings start to burn within you as the words he fall from his lips.Â
âIf I did, you might be better than me,â Tom utters, though it doesnât seem like it hurts him to say; he must mean it. He looks at you with his cold stare, the one you used to find comfort in over the years at Hogwarts.Â
âI used to be.â You protest, looking around, trying to avoid this interaction. You still cared for him, the two of you were close⊠closer than he let anyone else. Over the years, it always made you wonder if maybe he did care more than he could say or let on.Â
Being close to him was something that seemed so obscure⊠so far-off. Sure, you two still talk even though it's brief to each other, always talking about duties. You no longer knew him like you had. He wasnât one for change, yet he let you change his life when you entered. When you would inevitably leave, too. You hadnât seen the change your absences had on him. Though some nights you wondered if it had, and of course it did. Tom saw you as a prominent person in his life, no matter how close you were now. He knew he had messed up by letting the rumor spread and not talking to you about it; he saw the rift.Â
He felt it.Â
However, he would never expand on his feelings and emotions toward the situation, or at least that's what you would conclude.Â
âItâs different... isnât it?â Tom speaks lowly, drawing your attention from the dim walls of the dungeon back to his figure standing near you.Â
âIt has been,â You reply leadenly. The timing of this conversation was not what you wanted. Talking about what occurred between the two of you here seemed wrong. Though also, the more you thought it wasnât unwanted. The exclusivity of the dungeons and late hours made you care less for it.Â
âThings change, I dislike that,â Tom says, controlling his voice, clear to leave no room for misunderstandings.Â
âThey sure do,â You reply curtly, turning to walk away back to your dorm. He doesnât stop you, but you do hear him sigh. As you walk back to your dorm, you think back to how things used to be.Â
The conversation is ringing in your ears. He appeared remorseful, which was something that happened on rare occasions. When you were friends, his charm wasnât lost on you; of course, he cared in his own way. Studying is when you is when saw it most. Always grabbing the books he knew you needed or were trying to study. He would lend you notes written out in his orderly neat script. He always met up with you after patrols to tell you something he found in the restricted section or something he learned recently. He enjoyed updating you on the kids sneaking out past curfew. Or even just something someone did that he deemed so witless that day.Â
A few nights later, you find yourself patrolling the dark hallways of Hogwarts, something you have become accustomed to. The paintings on the wall move not due to the people in them, but your wand illuminating the hall for a few feet, the shadows dancing as you pass. As your feet lead you to the central tower in the castle. As you walk, your mind is filled with everything occurring with Tom. He won't leave the forefront of your mind. Your feelings are so mixed up and all over the place, you feel unwell. Sure, you understood where the two of you stood with each other, not quite friends anymore. You didnât hate him. Sure, you did after the incident with Avery, now the feelings have simmered down to nothing but an annoyance of the things he hasnât said or done.Â
You still cared for the asshole.Â
Hell, care might not even begin to scratch the surface of what you felt. So many emotions play into what you think about him, yet one feeling persists. LoveâŠno, you think⊠not quite, maybe a deep fondness of the person he was and maybe still is.Â
Tom was never an easy person to understand, though when you spend enough time trying to see him and understand him, it makes all the difference. He enjoys his solitude but also craves some sort of type of connection with something. It could be his followers or the mindless compliments he gets from others from his magnetic presence and the attention circling him.Â
You reach the bottom of the stairs, and your shoes against the floor of the castle cause a clicking. Your stride is quick and spirited. Pushing open the heavy door to the library, you make your way in. Seeing the lengthy and far-reaching aisles of mahogany wood bookcases never fails to have you standing in awe. The details of the carved wood display the grandeur of the place. Walking through the dim room of the parchment-filled library always makes you calm. Always stopping here last because it's the best part of this route. Standing in front of the large, imposing gates of the restricted section of the library, stepping in past the gate door, you venture in. Walking through the section, you donât catch any students wandering in the closed section. You are standing in the last aisle of ancient tombs and shelves of books.Â
Tom had his own plans.Â
On his venture to the library, where he had known you would linger last, he knew for two reasons. He knows you. Of course, also thanks to the poor prefect, he demanded answers from on your whereabouts since you changed routes to avoid him tonight. He wasnât having it, not when he finally realized what he lost.Â
He knew things had changed, and it was obvious how looks of playful challenge turned to simmering uneasiness or dislike. The rivalry changed from similarities and friendship to disdain. He had known his silence over the rumors had caused a drift, but you were always his. He would never let something like a few lies come between the two of you. Once you had his attention, you never lost it. Since he let you in, it was either you stick by him or death for you was the only other option. He wouldnât dare let you walk away from him with such knowledge about him and being able to get so close. The feelings he held for you, even if unsaid, wouldnât let him kill you. The only option to make things work, to make you his again. His stride to the library was cold and calculated. The dark halls allowed him to think about what he wanted to say, if anything at all. The candles illuminating the hall created a glow in the dimness that reminded him of you. Always a source of brightness, he craved to get through his day. As his thoughts drifted to you, he felt warm.Â
Uncomfortable. A rising heat.Â
Reaching the stairs overlooking the library, he sighed. His thoughts scattered, swirling around his head, filled with you.Â
In the rush of emotions and the feelings of prickling uncomfortableness, he reaches for the tie around his neck. Pulling it away a bit to make it looser. He finally feels like he can fully breathe again. Though the feelings donât fizzle out. He made his way into the library, heading towards the restricted section. He found you standing in the back near a bookshelf with a desk placed or well pushed in front of it, looking around in the dim light for rule-breaking students. The restricted section was messy with old tombs, and piles of books sat in the corners. The candlelight casts shadows in the late hours. He felt uneasy; he wanted this to be a productive conversation, something to ease the feelings you both carried about this rivalry and your past grievances. He knew you heard him walk in. He wasn't exactly quiet, yet you hadnât faced him, so he spoke.Â
 âTaking another route just to avoid meâŠhow trivial for you,â Tom declares. His voice cuts through the silence of the library's air. His tone is sharp; he sounds tense and vexed.Â
When you turn to face him, you see the emotions that his voice carries. Looking over his face in the dim incandescence of the candles nearby allowed for a staggering sight. Tomâs face was illuminated by the glow, making him look ravishing even with the slight annoyance showcased in his features. A few small hairs lingered over his forehead. The dark locks adorning his head were messier than usual. He still looked impeccable, the uniform and robe adding to his alluring figure. His tie loosened enough that it gave him more comfort. The stare he had directed toward you was piercing, to say the least.Â
âPaying attention?â He speaks lowly, his voice draws you out of your daze, no longer focusing on his uniform or just him. He is closer now within your reach.Â
When you look at him, something has changed in the air, it'sâŠThick. Dense.Â
Something you were not prepared for or expecting. His eyes bore into yours, making you feel inarticulate, unable to think about anything other than him.Â
âBack off,â you mutter, finally getting words out. Your tone is sharp, though the heat of your annoyance is nowhere to be found. Those hidden feelings come back to haunt you just like his very presence standing in front of you does.Â
âWhy would I, when you canât run away now? I donât appreciate being ignored, darling,â Tom voices.Â
âI donât appreciate losing my authority and friends over a rumor. A fucking rumor.â You deplore. The simmering annoyance comes back just with every damn feeling he brings out in you.Â
Heat simmers with the annoyance, a deadly combo you realize. You watch his brow move, a pointed look he gives you. God. He looks fucking incredible. Â
âA rumor. Just a rumor. Never a fact was spoken by Averyâs mouth. In case you are wondering why I didnât entertain such a foolish thought out of his dense mind.â He speaks low and direct, it always gives you chills hearing him so affected by something. The heat between you two was strong; you both felt it.Â
He was annoyed with himself, letting his seeming indifference push you to leave. He never wanted this, for you to no longer be close to him.Â
Tom wanted you.Â
He thought it was clear all this time, only letting you close, and nobody else. He realized being your friend was momentary; he had always wanted to be yours. For you to beâŠHis. The heat throughout your body never left. You could smell his cologne, the woodsy scent enveloping you. You saw the emotions swirling in his eyes as he stared at you. The corner of his mouth craned upwards a small bit. He was smirking.Â
He knew. That fucker knew.Â
âI was worth more than silence,â You mutter the words, almost lost in the charged air around the two of you.Â
âYou are. Always. Here I stand calling Avery foolish, yet I may be more of a fool for letting you walk away,â Tom says lowly.Â
Standing in front of him makes you dizzy⊠You feel weak. You look over at him. Seeing his tie messed up does something to you. He looks at you like he is hungry, his eyes bore into you, though you donât look directly at him. Instead, you busy yourself looking at his loose tie and the collar of his shirt, which has been unbuttoned. Seeing his neck makes you want to leave a mark on him. You try to distance your mind from these thoughts, though it hardly works. You lower your head just a bit, your eyes trailing down with it. His hands are now in your view, and you notice his hand twitch as if he wants to reach out to touch you. His stare is still strong, though his smirk says he knows more than you let on. That's when you feel himâŠin your mind, lingeringâŠsearching.Â
Something you learned a long time ago, he is very good at using Legilimency. That's when thoughts flood your mind. Your thoughts. The very ones you are trying to hide. Images of you kissing him and trailing your hands all over him flood your mind, playing like a movie. Slowly, the scenes get more intense. Next, you see something unexpected. His thoughts flood your mind like he is letting you in. You see fantasies of you bent over his desk or in his bed, bound by magic. You try to block him out, though his smirk gets wider.Â
âAh. Interesting,â He says, his voice lower than before, closer to a whisper.
 He leans closer to you. Still not touching you and it's torture. He knows what you want and what he does.
You deem it not enough for how you currently feel. The heat pooling below your stomach makes you desperate. Somehow, you hold on to the last shred of control you have. You want to make this hard for him, too. A punishment for how things played out between the two of you.
âTom-â You start placing your hands on his chest to push him away. His eyes spark with amusement, though he is slightly taken aback. He quickly grabs your hands, stopping you.
âDonât you even dare.â He says desperately through a command, nonetheless.Â
You smirk slightly before looking at him. He looks back with his gaze like he canât bear to look away from you. He seems to feel an insatiable need for you. He leans in, his hips jutting out to meet yours, which in return locks yours. You rest between him and the desk connected to the bookcase. You hear a sigh leave his lips softly, easily missed, but the silence lets it hit your ears. You feel the bulge in his trousers pressing deliciously against your thigh as he leans into you. He smirks, watching your face change as you react to the feeling of him against you. The pressure of his hips on yours isn't enough. He wants the control, the need to keep you here, and his need is overbearing. You look at him before grabbing his tie and forcefully pulling him into a kiss. Desperate and rough. The kiss is anything but sweet; the need between you both is too strong to be delicate. His lips against yours are demanding, a lust-filled need takes over him.
You taste the way you look, perfect. His.Â
He bites into your bottom lip, calling you back to reality after the kiss, after whisking you off somewhere else. You could only see him, feel him. He was everywhere. He groans into the kiss. His hands grip your waist with fervor and control. His fingers dig into your skin, the harshness of his touch and kiss making you melt into him. You let a moan fall from your lips as his lips turn into a smirk against yours. You felt the goosebumps; he was haunting you. Your hands tangle in his hair, messing up his hair. In return, a low groan makes its way out of his mouth. Â
âGod, you look like fucking vision,â Tom whispers into your ear. One of his hands comes to your neck, his fingertips trailing the base of your neck.Â
âYou're watching me like always,â you reply, though your attempt to be casual fails. Your breath hitched, and you're still trying to recover from the kiss.Â
He thinks nothing he had ever imagined looked or felt this good. Your hands grip his shoulder, trying to ground yourself as you lean against the table's edge. You feel his hand slide down to the first button on your uniform. You watch him focus on unbuttoning your shirt, and you feel it fall away from you. He looks down, admiring the sight of your breasts covered by your bra. The air from the library hits your skin. His fingertips trail over the skin of your stomach, causing more goosebumps in their wake. He kisses you this time slower but still as demanding. Tom loves control, but he still loses himself in the taste of your lips. His hands grip your hips, his fingers dig into your skin like he needs to prove you're real. Your hands trail down his chest to his waistband, and you feel the cold metal of his belt buckle on your fingertips. He watches you as your fingertips mess with his belt mindlessly as you catch your breath.Â
âSomething you want?â Tom teases his voice low, cutting through the silence.Â
âFor you to shut up and kiss me again.â You taunt.Â
Tugging him in close for another kiss by his belt. Once again, feeling him pressed against your thigh, hard. The kiss was even slower than the last, his hands wandering around your waist and slowly moving upwards. His thumbs stop just under your bra. You smirk against his lips as he huffs out a breath, clearly annoyed at your words and holding back from losing control. You know he wants to make a stupid ass comment back but holds back to not ruin the moment, and as he enjoys the view in front of him. You feel his hands wander down to the back of your thighs as he lifts you onto the desk he was pressing you into. Your back hits the bookshelf, your bare shoulders feeling the spines of the books as you watch him run his hands up your thighs to the hem of the edge of your skirt. He pushes your legs wide enough for him to step between them.Â
He is stunned.Â
He hardly was thinking things would go this way, but lord, is he glad. He would never voice his need or the fact that he craved his moment for a while. You knew he was possessive, but the way his hands claim you tells you enough about how he feels. Since he is unable to utter a word, instead, he chooses to stare at your legs spread before him. He watches his hand disappear under your skirt, his fingertips graze your inner thigh teasingly he feels the heat between your thighs. He gives a small smirk, knowing exactly what he is doing. You tease him back, rolling your hips into his, feeling exactly what you're doing to him, his need for you. He lets out a groan at your movement. He is slowly finding it hard to stay in control, having the wonderful feeling of you pushing against him. His hands land on the desk on either side of you as he leans in, his lips grazing your neck.Â
âStop that right now.â He says demandingly, his voice low and gravelly against your neck.Â
He is frustrated by your teasing and the earlier remarks; it simmers under the feelings of arousal, you can tell by the firm grip he has on your thighs, pushing them even farther apart roughly. He steps back enough to quickly make work of his belt by prying it off. His brows are furrowed in concentration. His hands travel under your skirt, pushing it to your waist. You catch his intense gaze at the soaked patch on your panties.Â
âLook at that, huhâŠseems like you do want me more than I thought,â Tom says, his tone teasing.
He slips them down your legs slowly, quite the opposite of how he just took off his belt. You always see the small ways he takes control through his grip or the way he brings your attention back to him subtly. He realizes he starts to crave control over you like this; it's different from your rivalry, and yet he may just enjoy it more. Seeing you like this is something he had wished to see. He didnât think about the control how he would feel. Not that his possessiveness is new, it's just that this is intense; he realizes. This is real.Â
You will be his.Â
Tom didnât waste time, something he was good at. He always chose to be efficient, but even with that, he was trying to savor the moment. Committing it to memory in hopes of playing it back. Your eyes raked over him, you saw the slight change in his brow, the gaze falling from his eyes upon your now unclothed folds, ready for him. He looks up at you, the two of you making eye contact before he unzips his pants as he leans in to kiss your jaw, slowly down your neck, one of his hands rests on your shoulder next to the base of your neck. His thumb gently pressed over the hollow of your throat. As you kiss, you feel the head of his cock rub against the place you need him most. You let out a breathy moan at the feeling of him rubbing against you teasingly. He takes a deep breath at the contact, almost as if to ground himself from losing control.Â
Though control is lost when he finally thrusts into you slowly. He groans at the feeling of you wrapping around him. You slightly wince at the feeling of him pushing into you, though that only lasts so long when you hear him sucking in a breath. Your hands find the back of his neck, toying with the hair on the back of his head. You lean in, biting at his neck like you had wanted to upon seeing his exposed neck earlier. He groans as you mark him. He enjoys the feeling of your lips all over him.Â
âFuck⊠You're mine. All mine. So gorgeous for me, darling.â Tom grits out as he thrusts harder into you.Â
âAll yours, Tom.â You reply breathlessly. He likes that, hearing you say his name in such a manner. His dick twitches at your words, hearing you so willing to give him the control he craves.Â
His hand on your hip, his grip almost cruel. It slips to your back to keep you upright on the desk as he pounds into you, his control lost. The hand that was placed near your throat slides down between your legs as his thumb mindlessly presses into your clit. You moan, your head falling back into the bookcase behind the desk. He leans over you slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts as he lets his lips ghost over yours.Â
âSo good,â You blab out, as he fucks you into the bookcase, the desk under you creaking from his thrusts.Â
âYou feel so good, sweetheart,â Tom says. His voice is low in your ear. As he leans over you, he kisses down your neck to where your bra sits. He marks you up as you did him.Â
His teeth grazing over your neck, biting down. He groans, knowing you're his, at least for this moment, he isn't sure what will come after this. He doesnât care about that now, though he is too busy focused on your moans and the way you feel wrapped around him. He can feel himself getting closer to the edge as he knows you are too. Your moans are louder, and he can feel you pulsing around him, spurring him on. He canât let you be too loud. Not in the library like this, so he presses his hand to your mouth. Shutting you up as you moan into his palm.Â
âCanât be too loud now, wouldn't want anyone else to hear..â He mutters darkly through a groan, his possessive side coming out at the control he has over you.Â
He watches you throw your head back and moan into his palm as you both get closer to finishing. You roll your hips into his. Creating more friction between the two of you as you get closer to your orgasm. His pace doesnât slow as he chases his release with you. His breathing labored as he watched you savoring the moment. Tomâs eyes rake over your chest, watching it as you breathe heavily, his gaze then focused on where he pounds into you. He can feel you getting closer, he feels you clenching around him as your orgasm builds.Â
Itâs hotâŠheated.Â
For you, it's warm all over, a blazing heat as he marks his claim on you. Your bodies are covered in a light sheen of sweat, the warmth between you both still palatable. His hair sticks to his forehead as he pants for air through his thrusts. The glistening shine on you only makes you look even moreâŠ
 ruined.Â
He enjoys the view of you arched off the bookcase as your legs are spread over the desk as you lean upon it. It only fuels his hunger for you, something that's been in his mind since you became friends in the first place, even if he didnât realise. He watches as your head tilts back into the bookcase. He feels your moans in his palm. He stares at you, leaning back in, his lips pressing into the nape of your neck. He speaks in a low tone clearly holding on for you.Â
âCome on, darling,â Tom grumbles.Â
His fingers work you to your climax as he watches. A smirk lingers on his face as he focuses on you. Seconds after the words leave his lips, you're moaning into his palm as you cum. As you clench around him, he groans following the chase of his orgasm. His hips stutter just as his breath does, with how you feel clenching around him. The feeling of everything brings him closer and closer as his thrusts lose their rhythm. He feels your walls clenching him in as his dick twitches in you as he reaches his high. The growl leaving his lips low is almost a satisfied hum. You feel his cock pulsing inside of you as he releases. You feel his cum filling you the way he does. He feels you sucking him in, making his climax that much more delicious.Â
Which in return helps satiate his hunger for you. He takes his hand from your mouth to let you breathe and catch up. He smirks as he watches you catch your breath on the desk. You look at him, trying to focus back on reality. Â
âFeeling alright? Glad I followed you.â He teases smugly, proud of himself, also trying to take away from how he feels and how unraveled he is. You roll your eyes. Yet a small smile forms on your face.Â
âI'm sure you are.â You speak softly, still trying to calm down.Â
As you both fix your uniforms back to looking somewhat presentable, you glance over at him. His hair is messy and somewhat sticking to his forehead. His uniform is no longer perfect like it always is. Standing in the dark, dim lights of the restricted section, it seems words are no use.Â
You both know what you have done, left each other, ruined.Â
He left you panting, bruises in places you canât exactly hide perfectly. You do your best for the time being by pulling your collar up. Yet deep down, he also claimed you, leaving his mark. You did too. You leave him ruined in a different sense. A deeper way. You can tell by the way he looks at you without voicing a word, like he is still assessing what occurred. Deep down, he is conflicted. Youâre the only person he has let in like this, with such intimacy. He doesnât fear it, yet something stirs in him. He feels uncertain. Treading on a line of not wanting to lose you by messing things up, yet a need to have you as his. He knows what he will pick. It will not be easy. Love was never something he could feel. Though now it feels close to something he harnesses for you. Obsession is closer, but the feelings mixing in are new. There is a feeling of a deep connection, one he doesnât want banished.Â
You glance at him, offering a small smile. He seems to soften at it, almost a touch of relief. He waves you on, though you see the ghost of a smirk. You start to walk out of the library as he trails a few steps behind you. You start to realize why he was smirking. Now, why he trails behind you. He is watching you walk. You realize why. His release starts to slowly make its way onto your inner thighs. You canât believe you forgot to find your underwear. Slowly, you start to get nervous about the fact that maybe someone will find them, and that you're about to walk out into the hall where the other prefects linger. The slick between your legs is a reminder of what happened and does not ease your nervousness. You slow down before you exit the library, that is, until you feel Tom's hand on your back. Firm and almost pushing you towards the door.Â
âKeep walking, darling.â He mutters low into your ear, seeing your nervousness.Â
You swallow. The feelings bubbling in your chest at his words and how they make their way into your mind. You take the first step as he guides you, hand at your lower back, until you reach the door. Pulling the golden brassy handle as the door opens. You see the prefects waiting around clearly at the end of their patrol.Â
âWhere have you been? Did something happen?â One of the prefects said, her voice in a light questioning tone.Â
âThe bookcase in the back of the restricted section was tampered with. Spent time fixing the books. Rearranging them.â Tom says in a cool tone, redirecting the prefect's gaze to him as he steps closer.Â
You can hear it in his voice. The smugness in his tone, the accomplishment he feels. He stands one step behind you, imposing over you. His eyes are on the prefect as she stands before the both of you. You can see her get uneasy at his gaze. She nods, clearly a bit taken aback by Tom's tone as she steps away. She gathers back with the rest of the prefects nearby.Â
You glance at Tom with a small smirk on his face. He offers one last glance towards you before he turns and walks away. Leaving you there to stand with the other prefects, with him dripping down your inner thighs. You thank the darkness and the late hour, making it harder to notice his marks and the way your cheeks are still probably flushed. You glance up, looking to where he ascends the staircase. As you watch him walk off, that's when you see something stuffed into his back pocket: your underwear. You almost donât catch it with his cloak flowing and the dim lighting, yet it barely peeks out enough to notice. That bastard stole them, leaving you to deal with it. Your gaze narrows as you stare into the back of his head. You know he feels it. Yet he keeps walking with his stride, proud and accomplished.Â
oneshots | áŽáŽáŽ ÊÉȘᎠᎠÊᎠX ê°!ÊáŽáŽáŽ áŽÊ
âËàż NEVER?
âŽïž SUMMARY: Tom Riddle loves capitalising on the mistakes of others. especially if those include youâand even more so, if that means he can teach the fellow Head Girl a valuable lesson ;)
âŽïž WARNINGS: MATURE CONTENT. first time orgasm with Tomâs help. Head Girl x Head Boy, fingering, oral f!receiving, petnames, innocent and nerd!reader, praise, confident Tom, kisses!!!
âŽïž AUTHORâS NOTE: good fucking morning. viperify (or Mar, in case yall still remember me) has awoken from the dead!!! I am back and committed to feed into #tom riddle smut again! :DDD
wordcount: 3,3k
Two broken rules.
Two broken rules were all it took to shred every last value and moral youâd built and treasured over the years youâd grown into an adult to pieces.
Two. Rules.
Oneâofficial. The consumption of alcohol was strictly forbidden on school grounds, and weekends were no exception.
The otherâunofficial. A rule youâd set for yourself, however, no less important than the first.
Do not participate in drinking games.
While they could be fun, during your time at Hogwarts, youâd unwillingly collected three whole diaries worth of information about students youâd never even talked to before.
And in no way were you keen on becoming a spotlight in someone elseâs diary, either.
It wasnât as though you had something worth sharing anywayâyour private life was, well, private, and besides a few dating rumours over the years which you couldnât confirm nor feed into, nothing worth mentioning came to mind.
Quite literally. Nothing.
All these years, youâd been overly preoccupied with school and internships, mostly giving yourself barely enough free time to breatheâand even then, you sheltered yourself from parties and peers, drowned yourself in books instead. No Potions or Transfiguration texts then, but rather novels you borrowed from the tiny, cramped bookstore in Hogsmeade.
For you, they were an escape from realityâfrom day-to-day expectations, from the noise drowning in during late-night common room parties.
A fictional reality where you got to experience what you werenât sure youâd ever get to feel in person.
Love.
A huge part of it, you believed, was your own fault. There had definitely been a good number of people interested in youâmore than just interested, your friends suggestedâthough, you never reciprocated any of it.
Not the letters, not the gestures, smiles, giftsâŠ
As a prefect and now Head Girl, you had certain responsibilities. A reputation to uphold.
You had built respect around your nameâand you wouldnât let something as simple as a failed relationship invalidate your hard-earned achievements.
Especially when your fiercest competitor went by the name Tom Riddle, and neither involved himself in any things of that sort. As long as that stood true, you had no interest in straying from the path youâd set yourself.
The only gatherings you never seemed to be able to excuse yourself from were the annual House parties. Each House had their own, on separate dates.Â
And this time, youâd broken the one rule youâd kept safe all this time.
Your friends had left the day prior for their exchange trip to Franceânot around to save you from the inevitable.
Two or three too many drinks, and you let yourself be dragged in the midst of a circle where students had gathered to play a game similar to truth or dareâwith an additional third category added.
Confession.
The worst part: you didnât even get to choose, but the other players picked it for you.Â
So, either truth, dare, confess, or drink.
The fourth option saved you in the first few rounds, but by the fifth, with heightened confidence, you suddenly no longer felt intimidated by their questions.
A confession seemed easy. Too easy. You could come up with almost anythingâa lie evenâor something as simple as you cheated on an exam in second grade. Would they be satisfied with that answer? Most likely not, but your debt would have been paid either way.
Itâd have been fine, you couldâve stopped playing and left the party after.
Still, with the general direction of the truths and dares given beforehand, your mind, spinning and fuzzy, skipped right past that simple option, and the words left your lips too quickly for what was left of your sanity to intervene.
âI have never had an orgasm before.â
Deafening silence.
Your heartbeat drummed in your ears, and you attempted to swallow the lump that had formed in your throatâwithout success.
Wide eyes stared right at you, and the sheer embarrassment of what youâd just admitted sobered you up faster than the Potions your friends had given you in the past ever could.
The air around you nearly suffocated you when you scrambled to your feet, snatching your purse from where youâd left it, the overwhelmingly loud noise in your ears drowning out the calls for you to stay and continue playing.
Either way, you couldnât have.
Hell, not even your closest friends knew this about youâand now, more than twenty strangers from different years and Houses had heard you speak it out. Youâthe good, responsible student who never did anything other than studying or readingâjust ruined your treasured reputation with one single sentence.
It would spread like wildfire, and by Monday, itâd have reached every last corner of this damn castle.
Your cheeks burned hot with embarrassment and perhaps also one or the other tear as you stumbled your way through the packed common room, eyes fixed on the floor, not daring to lift your gaze until you made it to the corridor.
As you did, fists clenched tight at either side of your hips, heels furiously clicking on the stone floor, you felt itâthe unmistakable sensation of someone watching you leave.
You whipped your head around, infuriated someone tried to follow youâthough you instantly regretted that choice.
Leaning against the entrance he stood, observing you. The playful smirk he wore did not smooth into his usually unbothered expression, not even as he slowly lifted a glass of what you assumed to be Firewhiskey to his lips and took a sip.
Tom Riddle had heard your unfortunate confession.
The gears in his awfully brilliant mind were most likely already turning to find a way to use this information against you.
Fuck.
â
The silk of your nightgown youâd slipped into moments ago still lay cool against your skin as you settled beneath the covers on your bed, reaching for the book youâd left abandoned on your nightstand the morning prior when a knock on your door startled you, your attention shifting to the source of the sound.
A quick glance at the clock made your brows furrow.
It was 22:00 on a Thursday.
Curfew had begun an hour earlier, and before a single muscle in your body dared respond to the natural urge to open the door for your unannounced visitor, your mind sped through all the possibilities as to who may be requiring you this late.
One of your friends, you thought at first, and almost settled with that explanationâuntil you remembered that no, most of them were still on their trip to Beauxbatons and not around to entertain you.
It had to be a professor, you were sure of itâand before your brain could come up with terrible scenarios as to why theyâd want to speak to you at this late hour, you hastily tugged the duvet aside, practically jumping out of bed when another knock came rattling against your door.
Barely a few centimetres open, your reflexes almost worked faster than your mind, attempting to slam it shut againâbut a foot had wedged itself in between the gap in the meantime, preventing it from closing.
The strict, deep brown eyes that had met you when you first opened the door could only belong to one person.
The last person you wished to speak to of all people in this entire castle.
Tom managed to push the door back far enough for him to slip inside, not sparing you more than a short look. He strode into your dorm as though he owned the place, posture straight and collected as always, his expression unreadable.
With a slight hint of amusement, perhaps.
If he was here just to remind you of what happened a few days ago, you would hex him. Hell, perhaps your aversion to the dark arts wasnât as serious as you thought it toâ
âYou know what theyâre saying about you?â Tom broke the silence first, not bothering to turn and look at you. His hands rested in his pockets, observing a group of magpies and ravens as they glided past the window of your single dorm.
Your hands crossed over your chest, taking a step forwards. âRiddle, leave.â
âThe Head Girl canât even make herself come,â he continued, not listening to your plea, which youâd attempted to wrap in the venom of a threat.
The insult youâd prepared died on your tongue the second the weight of his words hit you, and for a few awfully long seconds, you just stood there, not able to muster up a witty comeback.
There was none.
He was right.
And he was well aware of it, too.
When no reply came, Tom huffed, shaking his head before he finally turned to look at you.
His gaze wandered over your body, but there was nothing left of the usual disdain in the way he looked at youâit was different. The flame alight beneath the dark brown of his eyes was not fuelled by hatred, and the realisation made your skin crawl.
Tom drank you in like a lion its prey.
Only then did you realise how little you were wearing, how much skin showed that was usually hidden beneath your school robes.
His wandering eyes slowed as they reached your cleavage, the thin silk fabric of your nightgown doing nothing to conceal the stiff peaks of your breasts.
Tom made a low sound of approval when your thighs clenched together as his eyes descended further, and he took a step towards youâwhich you reciprocated with a big step backwards.
âSome sounded almost concerned, you know,â Tom said thoughtfully, inching closer, slowly.
âAnd, as a Head Boy and prefect, it is my duty to listen to their worriesâI presume you are aware of that, though.â
âRiddle,â you said warningly, and the next step backwards had your breath catch in your throatâheâd backed you against the long edge of your bed.
âIs it true?â He asked, standing still for a moment.
You scoffed, turning your head to the side.
Avoiding the question.
âNever?â He insisted, eyebrows drawn together. Again, he did not receive an answer.
âFuck.â
Tom closed the distance without sparing it another thought, shoving the voice telling him that this may be a bad idea to the back of his head.
Ever since he heard your little secret, heâd been determined.
Determined to change it.
He was standing right before you when his index finger trailed along the dainty, golden chain decorating your neck, adjusting your pendant so it pointed to where his eyes were glued moments ago.
âLet me help you,â he murmured, letting his hand slip to your shoulder, playing with the strap of your nightwear. âPlease.â
Please?
âI donât know if thatâs aââ you started, sighing a breath when he eased the slightly elastic fabric down your arm. ââgood idea.â
âMmh,â Tom crooned, his head dipping to brush his lips along your collarbone. âLetâs worry about that later.â
His other hand eased the second strap off your shoulder, and a moment later, the silk slipped down the length of your body, revealing you to him.
The hand you lifted to shield yourself from his scorching hot gaze was quickly tucked to your back, and he used the chance to press a kiss right below your jaw, making you exhale a shaky breath.
What the fuck was he doing to you? And why on earth were you allowing it?
Questions you would, as he said, ask yourself later.
For now, the heat that had built in the deepest pits of your abdomen seemed to consume you whole, and your free hand impatiently tugged on his robes, which he stripped off with ease just a moment later.
Your eyes locked, and before you knew it, his lips crashed on your own, stealing the breath from your lungs.
Morals. Values. Hatred.
Youâd had it all not longer than five minutes ago.
And now?
You couldnât care less.
You tried to convince yourself this wasnât Tom, this was someone else entirelyâbut, in the end, it washim. It was Tom whoâd walked into this room as though it was his own, who looked at you like a predator at its prey.
âLie back,â he said with a smug grin, tugging his tie loose as he watched you get comfortable, your back resting against the headboard of your single bed.
Tom joined you not ten seconds later, not bothering to undress himselfâearning him a confused glare.
âThis is about you, sweetheart. Not about meânot today.â
Fuck.
You didnât even know what made this worseâthe petname or the hinted promise that there would be a next time. That this was not a one-time occurrence, not just him using your secret, your ignorance to his advantage.
âSpread your legs for me,â he encouraged, brushing a warm hand down the inside of your thigh, making you tremble. Still, you did as he said, revealing your red lace thong to his waiting eyes.
He growled at the sight in front of him, trailing a finger along the waistband and pressing a kiss to your knee.
âOff,â he says, helping you ease the fabric down your legs when you lifted your hips for him.
Then, you were bare.
And he was fully dressedâsave for the robes heâd left draped over your chair and the tie that hung loose around his neck.
He looked awfully human like this. Not like he usually didâstrictly polished, stern expression, not a single crease in his clothes.
Tom looked hungry.
Hungry for what was waiting for him a mere breath away.
With both of his hands splayed on the inside of each thigh, he gently spread them, softened brown eyes sweeping over the length of your glistening pussy before his index finger repeated the same move.
âOhââ you gasped, clenching your thighs around his arm as the foreign sensation spread warm and fast throughout your entire body.
âOpen, or I will stop,â Tom warned, and you obeyed, parting them again.
His thumb pressed down on your clit, circling slowly while he dipped a single finger between your folds, coating himself in your arousal before he pressed inside.
Your eyes never dared to stray from his, not even when he curled the single digit which had found its way into your pussy, finding that one spot he knew would free your mind from your worriesâat least for now.
He kept a steady pace, only quickening when he felt you clench around him. Small gasps and moans slipped past your parted lips, and if he wasnât already so utterly enchanted by your voice, this would have done it.
Tom sensed you were closeâthighs trembling, walls clamping down tight around himâsmiling to himself at how fast he got you to the breaking point.
Poor girl.
âTomââ you squealed when the sensations he was giving you became nearly overwhelming, but he held you steady, not letting you move away from his touch. âIâ I canâtââ
He merely shook his head. âOh, but you can, darling. Focus on everything I am giving youâit feels good, doesnât it?â
âYes,â you nodded and tried to keep your hips planted on the mattress, fighting the instinct to meet the gentle, slow thrust of his hand. He was watching you, and you had intended to keep it low, not give him the satisfaction he, if you were being honest, deserved to watch you fall apart for himâbut when it was time, when the knot in your lower abdomen had wound so tight it was about to snapâyou could no longer stick to it.
âFuck, Iââ
Tom drew tight figure eights on your clit, watching as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.
âI know. Stop holding back. Be a good girl and come for me, hm?â
Even if you wanted to, you couldnât hold back any longer.
With a broken half-moan, half-sob, you were pushed over the edge. He massaged over the spot he previously discovered, watching your every reaction.
How your thighs clenched around him, how your walls spasmed and pulsed, how your fingers dug into the bedsheetsâŠ
Tom worked you through it, only stopping when you whimpered his name, fingers closing around his wrist.
He resisted the urge to taste your sweet arousal on his tongue, instead watching your tired eyes stare back at his.
Without any hint of regret.
âGood?â He asked after a few moments, pressing a kiss to your knee, observing you with his usual self-assured, distanced eyes.
Smug bastard.
âAmazing. So fucking amazing.â
You meant to reach for your nightgown, but a firm hand stopped you.
âNot yet,â Tom purred, and before you could ask, his hand had descended between your legs once again. âOne more for me, sweetheart.â
âRiddle,â you glared at him, but it only spurred him on. He dipped his thumb between your folds and trailed along the length of your pussy, circling your entrance before he eased inside.
âYes?â He asked, raising a brow as though he didnât know what you could possibly mean, watching your lips part for a moan.
âWhy do you have to be an overachiever all the fucking time?â You asked through gritted teeth, staring at him.
âMostly, I am doing what is asked of me, thatâs all,â he says. âI am merely doing a good jobâbetter than others. Better than you, for example.â
âOh, fuck you, Riddle.â You snarled, wrenching your hips backwards, away from his touch.Â
Your heart skipped a beat when you saw the grin forming on his lips, and he yanked your legs apart, kissing his way down the inside of your thigh until he was so close to your soaked cunt, you thought he mayâ
âFuck you? Like this?â Tom asked innocently, slipping not one but two of his fingers inside you, head inching forward until the tip of his tongue brushed over your clit before his lips wrapped around the swollen, still sensitive bud.
âOhâ oh God,â you cried out, nails scratching over the satin sheets, desperately trying to find something to hold ontoâwithout success.
You settled for the curls of his dark hair instead, and he groaned against your pussy as you tugged on the roots with every swipe of his tongue over your clit.
âI prefer Tom,â he murmured simply, with such confidence you might actually have to hex him after this. He didnât let you finalise those thoughts though, burying his fingers knuckle-deep, suckling and licking like a man starved.
âIâ I hate you.â
He smirked, biting down gently. âI am aware. Now come for me, angel.â
You climaxed not even a minute later, moans echoing off the walls in your dorm as your hips bucked against his face. And for once, just this timeâyou were more than relieved that your dorm was so far away from any other students. Judging by Tomâs satisfied expression, you must not have held back.
Tom licked his lipsâswollen and wet with your slickâand gazed up at you. So innocently, if he wasnât still centimetres from your pussy, you may have mistaken him for an angel.
He straightened himself, fixed his tie, stood up, and grabbed his robes.
You assumed heâd leave without saying another wordâbut you were mistaken.
âStay away from the bar next time. Or donâtâI canât wait to see their faces when you confess to this.â
You grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at him.
âFuck you.â
He didnât bother picking it up from the floor as he headed for the door, still wearing that same smug smirk from before.
âNext time, sweetheart.â
thank you so much for reading! <3 feel free to reblog and leave feedback! :3
â
masterlist. | oneshots.
Not sorry for loving you- Tom Riddle x Reader - Part 1
Request; Tom and reader are childhood friends, both from the orphanage. Reader is a Hufflepuff who is the complete opposite of Tom; Tom and reader are very close and Tom would do anything to keep her by his side, including erasing her memories if she discovers what he keeps from her(ie-his darker side). he makes her his horcrux after a near death experience.
warnings; Tom Riddle being Tom Riddle, murder, obsession, unhealthy co-dependency, human horcrux making without consent, memory manipulation, memory erasing, manipulation, shit ton of fluff. Smut included but not till the last quarter of the fic-its very soft and sweet; first times. PinV sex, condoms used, oral sex(M and Fem receiving)
Fem reader, she/her used.
@serenamultifandom
=
They grew up together.
At Wools orphanage. Sheâd been left there, her parents had died from tuberculosis, Tom had been born there-his mother dying giving birth to him.
They met quickly, of course they did, they arrived at the orphanage only months apart; theyâd been put in bassinets close to each other, she had been crying, needing attention-but none of the orphanage caretakers were around to hear her.
When one finally arrived-they found the oddest thing, Tom was in (y/n)âs bassinet, cuddling her, tiny fists clutching her baby clothes and she gripped his in turn.
From that moment, the two were inseparable.
There wasnât a thing they didnât do together, even if they were polar opposites. (y/n) was sweet, bubbly, and friendly; social, a magnet to families that visited in search of a child to either add to their family, or because they couldnât make one of their own.
Each time, (y/n) ended up being left behind at the orphanage, the families ending up leaving without her due to something, odd, happening each time they expressed interest in adopting her. One man ended up breaking his arm, tripping over a toy that wasnât there before, a womanâs appendix ruptured mid-adoption interview, a couple suddenly became very ill when speaking to her.
The caretakers slowly pulled her back from view after each incident, getting wary of her even though she was so sweet. Perhaps she was bad luck, or was being possessed by some demon that hurt anyone that tried to get close to her.
Or perhaps there was a very possessive boy, who could do strange things, who didnât want to lose his only friend, his only family.
The little girl, (y/n), was none the wiser to Tom Riddleâs influence on her failed adoptions.
âI donât get it, why does nobody want me?â she asked quietly in her soft squeaky voice, the two sitting under the willow tree in the courtyard, Tomâs hand holding hers as he held a book in his lap with the other. They were five, getting closer by the day. Tom looked at her, frowning softly, he squeezed her hand, tugging her closer.
âI want you.â he said, almost demanding she listen to him-that yes she was wanted. He wanted her, he wouldnât ever allow her to leave. (y/n) smiled at him, tears still rolling down her cheeks and he wiped them with his scratchy sleeves, kissing her forehead like heâd seen mothers on the streets to for their injured children. âIâll always want you.â
âThank you, Tommy,â (y/n) said, cuddling closer to him and he smiled, only she could call him that, resting her head on hers as he read the book to her, Peter Pan; one of her favorite stories. âAnything for you, (n/n).â he murmured back, a smile on his pale rosy cheeks.
-
As the two grew, so did their bond, after they turned seven the caretakers tried to separate them at night-since once theyâd been old enough to walk and open doors, they spent every night together in each other's beds, usually (y/n) in Tomâs bed since all the other boys were scared of him and didnât want to share a room.
Tom fought like hell when the caretakers began locking their rooms at night; screaming, fighting, punching, throwing things-cracking glass from the sheer force of his scream. After several nights of nonstop fighting, from both children, (y/n) crying and sobbing her little heart out each night, being terrorized by nightmares without her protector around; the caretakers gave up, eventually just moving (y/n) into Tomâs room, with one condition, the door was never to be locked.
Neither child understood why their caretakers were being so strict about it, but they were just happy to be together again, the two quickly drifting off to sleep in the middle of the night, hands held tight and resting on the same pillow.
Tom, when he was eight, began to realize there was something truly special about him. He knew things, happened, around him; when someone made him or (y/n) hurt, he hurt them back without lifting a finger-only thinking of what he wanted to be done. When he wanted rain powerfully enough, rain came, if he wanted someone to be terrified, their dreams would turn to nightmares, robbing them of sleep. He could even speak to snakes.
Around that age the caretakers forced Tom to every Sunday service, even tried to exorcise him because they were so sure this pale dark-haired child with an empty gaze when not around (y/n) was a demon. Â He returned to (y/n) at the orphanage; shaking and wet, holy water dripping from his face and hair. âTommy,â she gasped, scrambling down from their bed to wrap her arms around him in a hug, he latched onto her, soaking up her warmth as she held him as close as possible.
He had a grudge against any sort of religion from then on, using the strange snake language he had to scare the caretakers from taking him again, convincing them he was indeed a demon, but one too powerful for them to even try to bring in.
So, they finally let him be, pushing (y/n) be his âguiding lightâ since she was so pure, she mustâve been an angel sent to Tom to guide him. However, she liked Tom just the way he was, anti-social attitude and all.
He made her things, somehow able to turn flowers into crystals, leaves into animated little creatures, and snowflakes into jewelry, always giving it to her with a smile. She cherished everything he gave her, keeping it all under her bed in a worn out box.
She soon found out she could do things too, it was around Tomâs 9th birthday, she was determined to get him a gift-since he got her a gift for her birthday every year. She searched the market near the orphanage, wanting desperately to find a gift for her longest and only friend.
She stumbled upon a toy store, pushing inside to look at all the toys around, there were classic toys, stuffed teddies and rocking horses, but she was looking for something Tom would like.
She eventually found a shiny snake stuffed animal and knew she found the perfect gift, she grabbed it from the shelf and took it to the counter. âFive shillings,â the toy shop owner said. (y/n) frowned, oh right, money. She dug into her pockets, only producing two shillings. âsorry sweetheart,â the owner said with an apologetic smile, putting the toy to the side. âtell you what, Iâll keep this one aside till you can get the money, okay?â
(y/n) nodded, turning on her heel, rushing out of the toy shop to search for more coins. She searched through gutters and the streets, even trash bins, trying to find discarded coins to buy Tomâs gift with, but she couldnât find anything, eventually pouting in a park by the pond, shifting the two coins in her hands together.
She really wanted to get a gift for him, heâd always gotten her something for her birthday, this last year heâd gotten her a stuffed bear that she called âbearyâ and she adored it. She sighed pocketing her coins and resting her face in her hands, looking down at the stones at her feet by the pond edge.
She wished she could turn the rocks into shillings, it would be so easy if she could just-pop! Do it.
She picked one of the pebbles up, pouting at it, clenching her fist around it. She wondered if she could do the same thing as Tom, turn things into another thing if she focused hard enough.
She closed her eyes, imagining the rock turning into a coin, the same as the ones in her pockets. When she opened her eyes and her hand-before her eyes, sat a shilling. She let out a burst of laughter. âI did it, I did it!â she squealed, picking up more rocks, focusing hard to turn them into coins. Sheâd always had an incredibly artistic mind, so the change from rock to coin was perfect.
She grinned widely, running back to the toy shop eagerly, showing the coins to the owner. âBack already? Well done well done, well-thatâs five shillings, so here you go.â The owner said with a laugh, bagging the snake for her and handing it to her, she smiled sweetly, giving him a big grin, missing a tooth.
âThank you!â she said and the owner smiled back, waving her off as she left the toy shop-heading right back for the orphanage to pretty up Tomâs present, and show him what she could do.
She found a pretty silver ribbon in her box of Knick knacks(most of it gifts from Tom), she usually used it as a hair accessory but thought it suited the snake toy better. She tied a bow around the toys neck and put it on Tomâs side of their shared bed, her bed usually just used for extra things or their clothes they were too lazy to put away.
She grabbed a pretty rock from the box too, wanting to show Tom what she discovered-that she was like him-and waited for him to return to their room. He quickly did, having only gone to the library down the street to grab some books for himself. He saw her first, as he always did, and then saw the snake toy.
âHappy birthday,â (y/n) said with a grin, bouncing on her heels as Tom set the books on her bed and grabbed the toy, a small smile on his face.
âThank you (y/n), itâs really nice.â He said softly, turning to her as she reached to hug him and he easily hugged back, nuzzling his face in her shoulder.
âYouâre welcome! Oh oh! I have something to show you!â She said, voice pitched with excitement, pulling away from him to show him the rock. He rose his brow. âItâs a pretty rock?â he said, attempting to be enthusiastic, because it was (y/n). (y/n) giggled and shook her head, closing her fist around the rock and focusing hard, imagining what she wanted it to turn into.
When she opened her hand, the rock was gone, replaced by a silver coin. Tomâs eyes widened and he grabbed her hand, looking up at her. âYou can do it to!?â he whisper yelled and (y/n) nodded, her smile wide.
âIâm like you Tom,â she whispered and he pulled her into a hug, tight and possessive, but she laughed and hugged him back, nuzzling into his shoulder.
This, somehow, made them even closer. They were different than the other kids, they could do things the others couldnât, (y/n) could make flowers grow from nothing, Tom could break things just by focusing hard enough, (y/n) could frost water over, Tom could speak to snakes.
They were different, and to them, that was a good thing, it meant that they were the only ones to understand the other, Tom liked that, knowing (y/n) would only ever be understood by him, and therefore never want to stop being around him.
Then came (y/n)âs 11th birthday, it was in the summer, and on that day, after Tom had gotten her a birthday cake with the transformed coins, a strange man came to the orphanage, claiming to be a family member-allowed into their room.
âWhat do you want?â Tom demanded, standing in front of (y/n) protectively, (y/n) holding his shoulders as she peeked around him. âWho are you?â Tom demanded again, (y/n) squeezing his shoulders.
âTom thatâs not nice,â She whispered to him and he only scrunched his nose, still standing tall in front of her. The strange man only smiled, taking off his hat.
âIt is all right, my name is Professor Dumbledore, of Hogwarts.â Tom scrunched his nose further, his hands clenched into fists.
âHogwarts? Hogwash, youâre a doctor ainât you? Here to lock us up? Ainât nothing wrong with us!â Tom said with a curl to his lip, extremely defensive, continuing to guard (y/n).
âI am not a doctor Tom, I am a professor, at a school.â Dumbledore said, sitting at the end of (y/n)âs bed and Tom turned them so she was still blocked from Dumbledoreâs view. âa school, that both of you could attend, together.â Tom still didnât trust the man, but (y/n), ever curious and social, peeked around Tom to look at Dumbledore.
âWhat kinda school is it?â she asked quietly and Dumbledore smiled at her. âHogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,â Dumbledore said with an air ofâŠmagic.
âWitchcraft?â (y/n) murmured and Tom huffed, sneering. âWizardry? Donât try to trick us old man, such things donât exist.â Tom said with a clench of his jaw, Dumbledore only hummed.
âDonât they?...you two can do things, can't you? Things the other children can't do? You can make things happen when you're angry, or scared?â Dumbledore asked, leaning forward towards the children. Tom narrowed his eyes further at the old man while (y/n) slowly creeped out from behind him. âHogwarts is a school where you can learn to hone your magic, for thatâs what it is you both can do, magic. You, (y/n), are a witch, and you Tom are a wizard.â
Dumbledore looked at them both, Tom still looked unconvinced, (y/n) however, was starry-eyed. Dumbledore looked back at Tom. âYou donât believe me, do you?â Dumbledore asked and Tom huffed, curling his lip, still guarding (y/n) behind him.
âProve it.â He snapped and he yelped as their wardrobe went up in flames, putting his arms around (y/n) behind him, protecting her from the fire, their eyes wide. Something was shaking inside the wardrobe, Tom looked back at Dumbledore.
âI think there's something in your wardrobe trying to get out Tom,â Dumbledore said and Tom slowly approached the wardrobe, the flames not hot as he opened the door, finding the small box of things full of items stolen from other children-from when they had done something to anger him, or hurt (y/n). He took the box out, the flames ceasing at once-not even a mark left behind.
Tom looked back up at Dumbledore, who glanced at the box and then at Tom. Tom dumped out the items onto his bed, not looking at Dumbledore as he spoke again. âThievery is not tolerated at Hogwarts Tom, see to it that those items are returned to their owners, Iâll know if you havenât done so.â Dumbledore said, a bit sternly and (y/n) grabbed Tomâs hand, not liking how the man was talking to her friend.
Tom squeezed her hand back, bringing her closer, looking up at Dumbledore. âSheâll come too?â Tom asked and Dumbledore nodded.
âOh yes, she is a witch, as you as a wizard, both of you can attend Hogwarts.â Dumbledore said and (y/n) frowned, looking at their meager pile of, mostly fake, coins that rested in their makeshift bank.
âWe donât have any money,â (y/n) said softly and Dumbledore smiled.
âNot to worry, Hogwarts will fund you both for all your school supplies, including your robes, wand, and shoes. You both shall receive your Hogwarts letter very soon, in fact-âThere was a tap at the window and (y/n) jumped and turned, hiding behind Tom as she saw an owl at the window, holding two letters in its beak.
Tom opened the window, taking the letters, one addressed to him, the other to (y/n). He handed (y/n) her letter, the two carefully opening them. They were formally written letters, telling them theyâd been enrolled at Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry, along with a list of things theyâd need for their first year, and a ticket for the Hogwarts express at Platform 9 Ÿâs, at kings cross station.
âSeems real enough Tom, maybe heâs really telling the truth.â (y/n) whispered to him, the two standing close together. Tom stared at her, she was excited, wanting to go to this-school. Tom sighed, he could never say no to her, and looked at Dumbledore.
âWeâll go.â He muttered and Dumbledore seemed pleased, preparing to leave when Tom spoke up again. âI can talk to snakes tooâŠis thatâŠsomething other wizards can do? (y/n) canât.â Tom said, and Dumbledore gave an unnerved expression before leaving, not saying another word.
âI think thatâs a no,â (y/n) murmured, but Tom only seemed pleased. He was special, he could speak to snakes, an unusual ability.
-
One week before September 1st, (y/n) and Tom went to shop for their school items, holding hands as they found the entrance to Diagon alley through some tavern called the leaky caldron-which apparently could only be seen by witches and wizards. They went through to the back alley, finding an uneven brick wall and Tom tapped the bricks in the correct order heâd been told.
Diagon Alley was then presented before them, and both children dropped their jaws. âOh Tom, itâs wonderful,â (y/n) breathed out, her hand nearly slipping from his as she stepped forward but he didnât allow it-regripping her hand tightly as they walked into the wizarding world for the first time.
âIt is,â Tom murmured, but he wasnât looking at the alley, but at her. They continued to walk further into Diagon alley, soon arriving at Gringotts bank where theyâd been told to go to get their Hogwarts stipend for their school supplies.
However, (y/n) discovered something amazing, she had a family bank account that was still open-with her name on it so she could access it. âMy parents left me money?â she asked softly, the Goblin only huffing, asking for her hand to get a blood sample to confirm the relation. (y/n) swallowed, burying her face in Tomâs shoulder as the goblin pricked her finger, drawing blood.
After confirmation, Tom for his stipend and (y/n) for her family vault, the two followed a goblin into the caves that held all the vaults, first arriving at the Hogwarts vault where the goblin got an exact number of coins, three types, one a large gold coin, then a silver coin, and a bronze coin. A galleon, a sickle, and a knut.
Tom got a handful of each type of coin, then they went to (y/n)âs family vault and she gasped, seeing the amount of gold, silver, bronze and other treasures within the vault, she was given a leather pouch for her money and she took the same amount of money Tom was given from the Hogwarts vault, unsure if she needed more or less but Hogwarts would surely give Tom a proper amount to get all he needed.
âI canât believe my parents left me goldâŠthey were magical like me,â (y/n) whispered, holding Tomâs hand as they left the bank, standing in the middle of the street-unsure where to go first. Tom was unsure what to say so he just tugged them towards a robes shop, where they were measured for their first robes. The stipend didnât allow Tom to get brand new robes so he bought 2nd hand robes, and so did (y/n), even though she had way more than the money she pulled out, she didnât want to spend it so freely.
They got their books next, also second hand, then their cauldrons after that, which they had to get new because 2nd hand cauldrons werenât very good to have-at the advice from the shop keep and an older Hogwarts student-who said he was Slytherin, he was very tall and blonde with a posh voice, told them he was a prefect that year.
Tom and (y/n) started to ignore him when he boasted about his family and prestige. âHe reminds me of a peacock.â (y/n) said to Tom as they walked out of the potions store, Tom snickering as he laced his hand with hers again.
They passed the pet shop, though knowing they wouldnât be able to take one back to the orphanage, (y/n) followed Tom with a small pout, wishing she could get an owl for herself.
Soon, they arrived at the most important shop. Ollivanderâs wand shop. Tom squeezed her hand and they stepped inside, the door bell ringing as hit the opening door frame. The inside of the shop was filled with wand cases, stacks and stacks of them lining the walls and the upper floor, bookcases filled with a wizard's most important item.
They stepped up to the desk that stood at the front of the room, separating the wands from the front of the shop, Tom reaching out to ring the bell on the desk. An old man slid into view on a sliding ladder, looking down at them with curious and kind icy blue eyes. âNew students I see, here for your wands?â Ollivander, they presumed, stepped down from the ladder, walking over to them-grabbing two boxes from the shelves as he did.
âYes sir,â (y/n) said softly, resting one hand on the edge of the desk, Tomâs eyes locked onto the thin rectangle boxers that the old man held.
âLetâs see letâs see, dragon heartstring and ash, thirteen inches, quite flexible.â Ollivander said, handing this wand to (y/n), it was pretty, with a sortâve flower carved into the handle of the wood, stems climbing up the neck of the wand.
(y/n) looked up at Ollivander, not sure what to do and he gestured for her to give it a flick-so she did. A vase shattered and Ollivander quickly took the wand from her. ânot that one, not that one.â Ollivander muttered, handing a wand to Tom. âtry this one, apple wood, unicorn heart string,â Tom flicked the wand and several boxers flew from the shelves-the wand taken from him. âno, defiantly not.â
Ollivander put the wands back in their boxes and back into their shelves, fetching two more wands. This one for (y/n) was blackthorn and unicorn horn, when she waved it, nothing shattered but it flew out of her hand and smacked her over the head. âOi!â Tom snarled, reaching to snatch the wand-wanting to break it but Ollivander grabbed it before him, putting the wand away.
Tom huffed, turning to (y/n) as she rubbed her head, sniffling quietly. âAre you okay?â he asked, brushing his fingers against her rosy cheek and she nodded, watching him test his next wand-Cypress wood and dragon heart string-he didnât even get to wave it before Ollivander took it from him, claiming it wasnât the right fit.
Tom agreed, it felt clunky in his hand, wrong. The two went through several more wands before Tom was handed a pale wand, 13 and a half inches long, made from yew wood and containing a phoenix feather. As soon as he held it, it felt, right, warmth bursting from his chest and through his body-it felt like when he made (y/n) smile. He looked up at Ollivander, who nodded.
Tom had found his wand. Now it was time for (y/n) to find hers.
Soon, she was handed a wand that was 11 inches long, made from English oak and contained a unicorn hair. It was a bit bendy but made a sweet swishing sound when waved quickly, the handle was a carved rose bud that flourished out the end of the wand, with a vine almost creating a guard for her fingers to sit on, on the neck of the wand were small indents, like Tomâs had.
She gave it a wave, and small lights appeared, shaped like fairies, dancing above her head. She smiled brightly, feeling Tomâs hand slip into hers. Theyâd found their wands.
They paid Ollivander 3 galleons each and then left the shop, the two admiring their wands and twisting them every which way, showing them to each other. âWe have our own wands-wands!â (y/n) squealed, squeezing Tomâs hand as he smiled at her. They passed by a candy shop and glanced at each other, before heading inside, using their last few knuts and a galleon to buy a pound of wizarding candy. âEvery flavour beans,â (y/n) said with a tilt of her head, examining the box of jelly beans theyâd bought. Tom raised his brow, looking at the box.
âI think they mean every flavour, says itâs got vomit flavour too.â Tom said with a curl of his lip, (y/n) frowning as she opened the red and white striped box, carefully picking out a blue-colored jelly bean, popping it into her mouth. She smiled brightly. âBlueberry!â
Tom smiled back at her, admiring the flush to her cheeks before he tried a jellybean as well. It was colored black and as soon as he took a bite-he spit it out. âOh, thatâs rancid!â he spat, cleaning his tongue with the inside of his shirt, (y/n) giggling as she closed the box, putting it back into the paper bag from the candy store.
All their items from the shops sat at their feet, the two sitting at a white metal table near an ice cream shoppe. They tried sugar quills and licorice wands, Tom preferring the black licorice wands while (y/n) preferred the red ones, they both liked the quills and split a chocolate frog-Tom having to catch it before it leaped away. They spent the whole afternoon in Diagon alley, people watching and waiting for their robes to be done.
They also bought official Hogwarts trunks, packing their new school items inside, their wands in their pocketâs-lugging it all back to the orphanage and storing both trunks under Tomâs bed.
âI donât think I can wait a whole week to go to school,â (y/n) said as she kicked off her shoes and climbed onto Tomâs bed, Tom close behind as they sat on his bed together.
He nodded in agreement, feeling jittery with nerves and excitement. A school full of people like them-he did feel a bit, mournful at the loss of being special, but that was fine-it meant (y/n) was like him, and he still had the special ability of speaking to snakes, heâd found a book on wizarding languages-parseltongue it was called, and it was a very rare ability, genetic.
It meant he had wizarding lineage, he wasnât âmugglebornâ, and neither was (y/n), though unfortunately his family hadnât left him anything, but that was fine, (y/n) had enough for the both of them.
âWhat do you think itâll be like?â (y/n) asked and Tom pulled out one of the books heâd bought at the bookstore. âHogwarts; a history.â (y/n) gasped, scooting closer to him and hugging his arm as he sat against the wall and opened the book on his lap.
As Tom read to her from the book, they both learned many things about their new school- first of all, it was a castle, the school founded many many years ago by four of the greatest witches and wizards of the era. Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. These four wizards founded the school and split it into four houses, named after themselves; where students, starting at age 11 or were to turn 11 before winter, would be sorted into one of those four houses that were modeled after each founder's core values.
âIt doesnât mentioned what âsortingâ means,â (y/n) mumbled, Tom flipping forward a bit to see if the book did at all mention what sorting meant, but only mentioned that there was a sorting ceremony.
Tom and (y/n) continued to read the book late into the night. Tom finally closed it when he noticed that (y/n) had fallen asleep against him. He set the book down, moving so he and (y/n) were properly laid down on his bed, untucking his bedsheets to pull them up and around him and (y/n).
He kissed her forehead, swiping her hair out of her eyes before laying his head down, the two dreaming about going to their new magic school in just less than a week.
-
The orphanage was thankfully not too far from Kings cross station, so while they didnât have to rush to get there, they still got up early to pack all their things, Tom re-reading Hogwarts; a history while (y/n) finished putting away all her school books and her uniforms. âI understand why these trunks are massive now, we gotta fit cauldrons in em!â
(y/n) said with a scoff as she sat on her trunk to close it, since she was also trying to fit her keepsakes sheâd gotten from Tom over the years. Tom smirked in amusement, closing the book to set it aside. âitâd be easier to close if you werenât bringing along an extra five pounds of things you wont need, what are you gonna do with crystal flowers anyway?â Tom asked, though he felt lighter than air over the fact that she found gifts from him so important that she had to bring them to school.
âtheyâre from you, and I can decorate my room with them. We wonât be able to be in each other's rooms anymore so, itâll be like having you with me still.â (y/n) said, shyly looking away and Tom felt his heart melt. He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her temple.
âI can't really talk I guess, since Iâm bringing Basil with me,â Tom said, Basil being the stuffed snake sheâd gotten him for his birthday a few years back, the once pristine toy now well loved and worn out. (y/n) giggled and beamed at him, kissing his cheek in turn, making his ears flush.
âAnd you call me sentaâŠmentil, right?â (y/n) said, pausing as she spoke the long word, Tom nodded, the human thesaurus he was. (y/n) smiled again, the two finished packing and looked at the clock-9am, two hours before the train left. It would take an hour and a half to get there by foot-so (y/n) and Tom got going, theyâd get there a half hour before the train left at 11 am.
So they lugged their things down the stairs, which was a lot of stuff, and left the orphanage-no one said bye to them, which the two didnât care about, only caring that they were going to their new school-together.
After a long while of walking, they made it to kings cross station. They got their trunks onto trolleys and made their way through the platforms, looking out for anyone with Hogwarts trunks or not muggle attire. They made it to platforms nine and 10, but saw no platforms 9 and Ÿâs. âIâm sure it wouldnât be out in the open, magic n all, like how the leaky caldron is hidden to muggles.â (y/n) said as they stopped by the brick archway between platforms.
Tom nodded slowly, tapping his fingers on the handle of the trolly. âGoing to Hogwarts?â The two turned, seeing the blonde peacock teen from the potions shop, dressed in what was clearly wizarding fashion, a pin that said âHEAD BOYâ on his lapel. âWhat luck for you both, I know exactly how to get onto the platform, follow me.â The blonde teen said, going right into the archway between the platforms, disappearing.
(y/n) and Tom blinked.
Right. Magic. Tom went first, to make sure it was safe and his mouth dropped open at the sight of the scarlet train that was the Hogwarts express, students and parents already bustling about to get boarded. âwoah,â Tom murmured, turning to (y/n) as she pushed through the archway, gasping in delight at the train.
âThis is amazing Tom,â (y/n) squealed, hugging his arm and he squeezed her hand, the two following the blonde boy towards the luggage compartment, where they showed their tickets and their trunks were loaded onto the train, after they were allowed to board after getting their tickets punched by a railway worker and found an empty compartment to sit in.
âWeâre actually going to Hogwarts!â (y/n) squealed, setting the back of wizarding candy onto the booth, sitting on her knees to look out the window, watching families of wizards crowding the platform, all dressed so differently than she was used to. She could see whizzing sparks and fancy hats, owls and cats being loaded onto the train.
Tom tugged her back to sit properly, his arms staying around her as they waited for 11 am to arrive. âhow long do you think the train ride will be?â (y/n) asked Tom, sitting tucked against him as he pulled out the âHogwarts; a historyâ book from his bag.
âSays the ride takes about eight hours, so itâll be evening when we get there.â Tom said, (y/n) resting her cheek on his shoulder as they read the book, again, waiting for the train to depart.
At 11 am on the dot-the train whistle blew and Hogwarts express was off. (y/n) gasped, jumping to sit at the window again, watching the platform roll away and soon they were riding through the countryside. âitâs so pretty Tom,â (y/n) said with a soft voice and Tom hummed, his eyes only on her.
After a while an old lady with a trolly full of treats came to their compartment, asking if they wanted anything. Tom, knowing he didnât have any extra money, shook his head but (y/n) stood-pulling her leather money pouch out. âyes please! What do you recommend?â (y/n) sweetly asked the old lady who cooed and suggested pumpkin pasties, licorice wands, chocolate frogs, and iced pumpkin juice. (y/n) bought a little of everything and put it in a pile between her and Tom.
âThank you,â Tom said, (y/n) being the only person heâd allow such generosity from. (y/n) smiled at him and they shared a chocolate frog, Tom letting (y/n) keep the card that came with it, they both fell in love with the pumpkin pasties and the pumpkin juice, they were rich and warm flavored with just the right amount of spice.
They both fell asleep from a sugar crash, waking up to a rapping noise at their compartment door, seeing the peacock teen from earlier. âweâre set to arrive to Hogwarts in ten minutes, please put on your uniforms.â The teen said, leaving to tell the next compartment of first years.
âoh no! our uniforms are in our trunks!â (y/n) gasped, sliding off the booth seat and Tom quickly followed her. They went down the compartment corridors till they found someone who worked on the train, telling him that they left their uniforms int heir trunks. The worker took out his wand, taking them to the luggage car, with a flick of his wand their trunks appeared.
âbe quick about it,â the worker said, (y/n) and Tom quickly unlocking their trunks and finding their uniforms, the worker putting their trunks back in place after theyâd relocked them.
âthank you!â (y/n) said as Tom grabbed her hand to tug her back to their compartment, pulling down the screen to hide them from sight.
Theyâd changed in front of each other thousands of times by now, so it wasnât weird at all for either of them to change into their uniforms. âLook at us!â (y/n) gasped, twirling in her uniform, it was all black and grey right now, since they hadnât been sorted yet, but she already felt like a proper witch.
Tom smiled at her, putting on her pointed witches hat. âthere, now the looks completed.â Tom said with a nod, huffing as (y/n) put his wizards hat on him, their uniforms officially completed.
The train came to a stop and they grabbed their bags, putting the candy (y/n) had bought into (y/n)âs bag since she wasnât carrying any books, following several older students who had small shiny badges onto the Hogsmeade platform-where they were escorted down to the docks. âthis way to the boats, first years follow me!â a older wizard called out, wearing round glasses and wearing a long tan coat, wand in hand that had a light glowing from the tip.
(y/n) and Tom intertwined their hands once again, following the crowd of first years to the boats. They both climbed into one, Tom holding the lantern as all the other first years got into similar boats that glided across the shiny black lake.
The boats traveled for a little bit, and then there it was-around a cliffside corner-Hogwarts. âOh wow,â (y/n) gasped, holding Tomâs hand tightly as he looked at the castle in awe. (y/n) looked over the glass-like water of the lake below them and glided her fingers over the surface, giggling as Tom yanked her back into his side.
âThereâs mermaids in there remember? What if one snatches you?â Tom whispered, remembering the chapter about the black lake in his book. (y/n) only giggled, hugging his arm as the boat continued across the lake to the castle.
They reached the docks, students getting out of the boats and heading up the stairs, entering the courtyard, and then the castle. âitâs beautiful,â (y/n) breathed, admiring the stone statues of knights that went up into the ceiling of the main foyer of the castle. The first years all climbed up the stairs till they were met with Dumbledore, who held a roll of parchment paper. âWelcome to Hogwarts,â Dumbledore said warmly, the first years all quieting to listen to him speak. Dumbledore was dressed differently than when he met Tom and (y/n) at the orphanage, now wearing a fantastic wizard's robe of blue and purple and gold, and a tall pointed hat. âin just a few moments youâll be walking through these doors and join your classmates, before that, you must be sorted into your houses.â
Dumbledore looked over the crowd of excited first years, (y/n) bouncing on her heels as she held Tomâs hand. âthey are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. While you are here, your house will be like your family; your triumphs will earn you points, any rule-breaking and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will win the house cup, and the winning house will display the house cup for the next school year until the next winner is declared."
He gazed over the first years again, searching for any confusion or questions, but only saw excitement. âLet us begin then.â Dumbledore said, leading the first years into the great hall, (y/n) gasping as she looked up at the enchanted ceiling, a beautiful array of clouds and stars above them.
There were four long tables within the hall, each hosting one of the four houses. At the far end of each table, close to the teacher's table, were empty seats for the new students, and at the other end were 7th years, the Slytherin table having the peacock boy and the Slytherin prefects.
Tom and (y/n) were in the front, standing in front of the stairs and a stool with an old wizards hat on it, Dumbledore standing beside it, unrolling his parchment. âNow when I call your name, you will come forth, I will place the sorting hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your houses. Clint Abbot.â
A boy with blonde hair and a thin nose separated from the group of excited nervous first years, sitting on the stool-Dumbledore placing the hat on his head. (y/n) jumped, grabbing Tomâs arm as the hat came to life, a face appearing on the old leather. Clint Abbot shifted on the stool, and after a few moments, the hat yelled loudly for all to hear. âRavenclaw!â
Clintâs tie, vest lining, and robe lining all turned blue and bronze, the hat taken from his head as the Ravenclaw table cheered and applauded Clint as he walked over to them, the other houses clapping politely.
The sorting went alphabetically, going from A to Z with last names. Eventually (y/n) went up, swallowing nervously as she separated from Tom and sat on the stool, the sorting hat that smelled like old leather and moth balls placed on her head. âmmmm, a bright one you are I see, very kind too.â The voice of the sorting hat hummed in her ear, she kept eye contact with Tom-since it was the only thing keeping her calm. âdevoted, your ambition linked to your only friend. Not to worry, you will gain many friends in your new house-Hufflepuff!â
(y/n)âs robes turned marigold, her tie striped with black as she left the stool, going over to the cheering table of marigold and black. She glanced back at Tom-who was staring right back at her, the distance between them growing for the very first time.
(y/n) felt a bit sick as she sat at the Hufflepuff table, greeted by warm smiles and comfort, but she didnât want them, she wanted Tom. Her nose burned as tears grew in her eyes, her hands clenching to her uniform skirt as more students were sorted.
âTom Riddle.â She turned when she heard his name, watching him walk up to the stool and the hat was set on his head. The sorting hat didnât even take a moment before it called Tomâs house. âSlytherin!â
The distance between them grew even greater as Tom left the stool-catching her eye for a second before he walked to the table that was on the opposite side of the Hufflepuff table. She felt a bit better when he sat directly across from her, able to see her through the crowd of students.
She felt anxious as everyone else was sorted, crowded by her fellow house mates, so far away from Tom. Sheâd never been separated from Tom, not since that short stint of the caretakers trying to separate them at night. She wasnât sure if she knew how to function without him.
She felt tears in her eyes and she couldnât stop them, sniffling quietly as they rolled down her flushed cheeks. âAre you okay?â an older student asked her, resting their hand on her shoulder. (y/n) shook her head, she knew he was only across the room but she still felt so lost without him next to her.
Tom felt the same way, staring at her as he sat across the room from her, tightly gripping his wand in his hand. His chest burned with anxiety, possessive hatred burning as well as the Hufflepuff student touched (y/n)âs shoulder, watching as tears rolled down her sweet face.
He desperately wanted to comfort her, to wipe those tears away and tell her everything was okay-just has he had for her through all their years together, since they were babies. The opening feast began and Tom struggled to eat for a few moments, heâd never seen so much food before in his life. He kept staring at (y/n), she was still crying softly, sniffling as she slowly at her dinner.
When dessert started and he spotted chocolate pudding, he grabbed it-not caring for any social barriers between the houses-and went right over to (y/n), setting the plate of chocolate pudding in front of her. She instantly smiled at him and he slid next to her on the bench seat.
They didnât care what others thought of them, they only needed each other. âThank you,â (y/n) said with a wobbly voice, closing her eyes as his thumbs wiped the tears from her cheeks. He gave her a soft smile and they shared the chocolate pudding heâd brought over from the Slytherin table.
âI donât care that were in separate houses,â he told her quietly, their hands intertwined under the table. âIâm not leaving your side.â (y/n) smiled and rested her head on his shoulder.
âI wonât leave yours,â she mumbled quietly and he nuzzled is face into her hair, not carrying if anyone was watching their display of affection, they were 11 and 10, it was purely innocent. Adorable.
After dinner was done, all the first years had to follow their house prefects to have a small tour of the castle and find their common rooms. Tom and (y/n) held hands for as long as possible before they were forced to go their separate ways. âIâll see you in the morning,â (y/n) said softly and Tom nodded, determined to be the first face she saw tomorrow. He watched her leave with her new housemates and sighed, following his Slytherin classmates to the Slytherin house common room, which was in the lower levels of the castle, the dungeons.
âNow each common room has a password that must be said each time to enter the house. Do not share this password with anyone of another house, and the password changes every quarter, we prefects will alert you when it does.â The prefect boy turned to the stone wall ahead of them. âSerpents venom.â
From the ground arose a golden snake arch, revealing the door to the Slytherin common room. Tom followed everyone inside, very much liking the environment already-but he couldnât help but feel it would be even better if (y/n) was with him.
On the other side of the school, (y/n) was being shown the password to the Hufflepuff common room which was behind the kitchens, the door being hidden by a large barrel. ânow you just tap a rhythm into this barrel here, in the rhythm of Hel-ga Huff-le-puff.â The prefect girl showed what she meant and the Hufflepuff common room door folded away to reveal the entrance.
(y/n) gasped, following her fellow students into the room. It was warm and bright, filled with inviting fall and earthly colors and vegetation. After exploring the common rom a bit, she found her dorm room which she shared with three other girls, her bed already chosen and her trunk set at the end for her to unpack.
âHi, Iâm Penny,â one girl with a soft voice said, clearly a little shy, introducing herself to (y/n). (y/n) gave a small smile back, waving. âIâm (y/n),â she mumbled, the other two girls introducing themselves as well, since theyâd be roommates for the next 7 years.
âIâm Clarece, but I like to go by Clover,â Clover said, she had short blonde hair with a round nose, the last girl introduced herself as Macy, and she had very curly black hair and pretty brown eyes.
âItâs nice to meet you all,â (y/n) said softly, unpacking her trunk enough to find her pajamaâs, setting the crystal flowers from Tom up on her nightstand, finding a cup to put them in as well.
âOh, those are really pretty, whereâd you get them from?â Clover asked, admiring the crystal flowers and (y/n) was happy to talk about Tom.
âI got them from my friend Tom, he turned some roses into crystals for me for my birthday a few years back.â (y/n) said fondly.
âOh is Tom the Slytherin boy who sat with you?â Macy asked and (y/n) nodded.
âYeah, weâve been friends since we were babies, and weâve never been apart.â (y/n) said, explaining why she had taken their separation, only by distance, so hard. Her roommates nodded and after talking a little more, everyone got ready for bed, (y/n) slipping into her warm comfortable cozy bed.
Though she couldnât sleep, desperately missing Tomâs presence. She sighed, grabbing some extra pillows, making a Tom replacement out of pillows-though they were cold and didnât hug her back, they helped a little. She sniffled a little bit, missing him.
Tom was feeling the same, glaring at the pillows heâd lined up on his bed, even after casting a warming charm-a very easy spell he decided-they didnât feel right. He needed (y/n). But he knew heâd get in trouble if he tried to sneak out to the Hufflepuff common room, which he didnât even know where it was. He grabbed his old stuffed snake-having hidden it till now in fear of being ridiculed(though he wouldnât have let any of his roommates get away with it), cuddling up to it.
It smelled like (y/n), so after a few rough minutes, Tom finally fell asleep, though it still felt wrong not to have (y/n) beside him, cuddling into him.
-
Tom was the first one up in the morning and he quickly got dressed in his uniform, folding up the length of his pants since they were a bit long-curse second-hand clothes, but (y/n) knew how to sew so she could hem it for him no problem. He grabbed his bag, making sure he had his wand and schoolbooks-before rushing out of his room stopping just outside the Slytherin common room.
He had no idea where the Hufflepuff common room was.
âLooking for your friend?â Tom turned to see the peacock boy. Tom glared but nodded. âHufflepuff ainât she? Come, Iâll show you how to get there.â The peacock boy said, leading Tom up the stairs with an air of authority and Tom grumpily followed, heâd rather just go on his own but he didnât know the castle well enough yet.
After going up loads of stairs and going past the kitchen, the peacock boy, who formally introduced himself as Abraxas Malfoy, had led Tom to the Hufflepuff common room. âthere you are,â Abraxas said with a triumphant grin, glancing at Tom-expecting thanks in return for his âkindnessâ but Tom just brushed him off, heading right for the large barrel that hid the common room from him, waiting against the wall for (y/n) to come out.
Abraxas rose his brow, humming under his breath and turning away, leaving Tom to wait for (y/n).
Tom stood outside the Hufflepuff common room for what felt like hours, but was maybe only 10 minutes, watching Hufflepuffâs of all ages coming out of the barrel doorway, until finally; (y/n).
She beamed as soon as she saw him, running straight towards him with her arms open-her witches hat flying from her head as he met her halfway, the two engulfed in each otherâs arms after a long night apart.
âMissed you.â (y/n) mumbled into his shoulder and he squeezed her tight, nuzzling into her shoulder. âMissed you too.â He said quietly, only for her ears. After a few moments they intertwined their hands like they always did and went to the great hall, (y/n) joining Tom at the Slytherin table this time, not caring for any looks they got.
âTom Tom try this-â (y/n) said with a gasp after theyâd begun to eat, cutting up a slice of eggy bread on her plate, spearing a piece of it that was bathed in butter and syrup, dusted with powdered sugar. âitâs so good,â she said, holding up her fork to his mouth and he opened up, taking the bite, nodding in agreement. It was really good.
He peeled a small mandarin orange for her, putting half of it on her plate and eating the other half, enjoying a glass of pumpkin juice with his meal of eggs, toast, and bacon, while (y/n) enjoyed her eggy bread, scrambled eggs and bacon.
They got their schedule during breakfast as well, and (y/n) and Tom shared every class! âWe get to be together for the whole day!â (y/n) cheered, comparing their schedules. Tom smiled at her glad they wouldnât be separated further. Their first class of the day was transfiguration, which was taught by professor Dumbledore, so (y/n) and Tom hurried to the classroom, following the other first years and the prefect showing them the way.
The two quickly claimed a desk towards the front of the room, Tom on (y/n)âs right and they took their needed books out along with parchment to write notes on. Dumbledore was at the front of the class, wearing periwinkle and pink robes with a long pointy hat that was embroidered with constellations.
âWelcome to your first transfiguration lesson,â Dumbledore said, and when everyone was seated and had their attention on him, he showed them what transfiguration was, turning a hat stand into a crane, and then back again.
With the awed attention of his students, Dumbledore explained what transfiguration was, how it was a very dedicated magic and science, and not to be trifled with. It could be dangerous when used foolishly.
And with that, the first years began to learn the transfiguration alphabet, which would lead them to learn more difficult spells in the future, but for now, it would be simple.
Their second period was Charms, a fairly easy class and the professor, a witch that was named Tryphena Vassy taught them the levitation charm. Tom got it with ease, flicking his wand with perfect pronunciation, since heâd done the charm before years ago-nonverbally and without a wand. âTerrific work Mr. Riddle, five points to Slytherin!â Professor Vassy praised since Tom had been the first to successfully cast the charm.
He turned to (y/n) who was beside him, she was watching his feather in awe, before smiling at him. âWingardium Leviohsa.â Tom said to her and she nodded, repeating what he said with a flick of her wand, and her feather floated. She beamed widely, giggling as Tom made his feather dance in the air with hers.
They had a study period next which was held in the great hall, (y/n) and Tom of course sitting with each other, and after that was their introduction to potions-where they met Professor Slughorn. Slughorn introduced himself and then began to teach them the very basics of Potion making, such as ingredients and how to use their potion tools.
After that was lunch, during lunch everyone seemed to sit wherever, which is exactly what Tom and (y/n) did, sitting in a quiet corner, comparing notes from the morning and sharing their thoughts about school so far.
They both thought it was wonderful, and couldnât wait to see what was to come.
After lunch was history of magic, which was taught by an actual ghost, who just droned on and on for hours-reminding Tom and (y/n) of the boring preachers at Sunday service, so Tom and (y/n) did some independent studies, reading about the lesson Professor Binnâs was attempting to teach.
 After that boring lesson-the books far more interesting-they went to what quickly became Tomâs favorite class; Defense against the dark arts. Their professor was a striking witch named Galatea Merrythought, who had curly silver hair, dark skin, and vivid green eyes, she wore magenta robes that complemented her skin with a golden amulet hanging from her neck.
âI am Professor Merrythought, your defense against the dark arts teacher for the next seven years. In this class you will not only learn how to defend against the dark arts, but many other spells that will help you learn other types of magic. Today, we will begin with a practical lesson-the light charm; Lumos.â
Professor Merrythought said, showing off the charm with a wave of her wand, a glowing white light appearing on the end of her wand-Tom and (y/n) staring with awe, holding hands under the table. âThis is a fairly easy charm, and there is a more powerful version of it. Light can be useful in many ways, to simply illuminate your path, or to chase away creatures that thrive in the dark.â
Professor Merrythought, after a short lecture, taught the first years how to perform the charm, and soon each student had a small ball of light on the tip of their wands, (y/n) giggling as it gently illuminated Tomâs face as she tapped his nose with her wand. He scrunched his nose at her, poking her gently with his fingers, which made her giggle a bit louder.
Professor Merrythought shushed her gently and (y/n) stifled her laughter, letting out a small hiccup that Tom found adorable.
After defense against the dark arts they had flying lessons, which was taught by the same witch that taught Charmâs class, professor Vassy. Tom quickly learned he hated flying-the broom refused to obey him and he felt completely out of control of it, (y/n) however took to it like a swan on water, the starter broom easily flying into her hand and she hovered with no effort, her feet just inches above the ground.
âVery well done Ms. (l/n), well done.â Professor Vassy praised as she passed by (y/n) and Tom, Tom wobbling in the air while (y/n) sat gracefully on her broom. (y/n) smiled sweetly back at their professor, giggling lightly as Tom slid off his broom to the grass below.
-
After that they were done for the day, and spent the rest of the day till dinner in the library, pouring over any first-year books they could find, absorbing all the information within the books, writing notes and finishing their assigned work; all before dinner.
At dinner Tom pulled her to sit with him at the Slytherin table, glaring at anyone that dared to look at them oddly, but nobody said anything and (y/n) enjoyed a dinner without tears, the two sharing some bread pudding.
Eventually came the dreaded time for everyone to go back to their common rooms, this time Tom walked (y/n) to her common, holding her hand tightly. âGoodnight Tommy, see you tomorrow,â (y/n) said softly, kissing his cheek and he blushed lightly, squeezing her hand.
âGoodnight (n/n), see you tomorrow.â Tom said softly, her hand slipping from his as she went up the short steps into the Hufflepuff common room, Tom staying at the entrance until she was completely out of sight, heading down to his common room.
-
The first week of school passed without incident, the only time (y/n) and Tom were apart was during bedtime and when one had to go to the bathroom-and the latter, neither were never far from each other.
Then came Tomâs first fight-some older Slytherin, maybe 13, had roughly bumped his shoulder into (y/n)âs shoulder, sending her stumbling back while he crudely sneered back at her. âWatch where youâre going mudblood!â the boy spat, the word said with such cruelty that Tom instantly knew it was an insult, a slur.
He turned with teeth bared and eyes wide-launching himself at the 13-year-old and tackling him to the floor-the scrawny boy letting out a pathetic screech as Tom began to wail at him with his bony fists. âDonât you ever call her that again!â he yelled between hits, his head snapping back as the boy got a quick hit at Tomâs face-Tomâs nose bursting with pain, blood quickly flooding his senses as he snarled-landing another hit on the boys face with all his strength.
âTom-Tom! Stop Tom!â (y/n) cried from the sidelines, dropping her bag to the floor and rushing forward, grabbing Tomâs hood to pull him off the Slytherin boy, who curled up on his side, moaning in pain.
Tom huffed, wiping his face with his hand-smearing the blood that had been dripping from his nose, he sniffled loudly, scrunching his face at the horrid feeling of doing so. âCâmon-lets go to the nurse,â (y/n) pleaded, grabbing his arm to drag him away from the fight.
Tom didnât get in trouble, because what proud 13-year-old Slytherin pureblood would admit he got beaten up by a âmudbloodâ 10-year-old? The head healer, Madam Tegner asked what happened but Tom said he ran face-first into a wall after going down the stairs too fast, (y/n) frowned at him but Madam Tegner didnât ask anything more, sheâd heard worse stories of clumsy 10/11 year olds so she stopped Tomâs nose from bleeding and sent the two off.
âYou didnât have to do that, you got hurt.â (y/n) said softly as they walked away from the hospital wing. Tom huffed, the taste of blood still on his tongue and he squeezed her hand.
âNo one calls you that and gets away with it.â Tom said, completely serious and (y/n) sighed, knowing that no matter what she did, Tom would always protect her, and that meant beating other kids up when they were mean to her.
âI just hate seeing you hurt,â (y/n) whispered and Tom tugged her closer, his arm wrapping around her shoulders, his cheek against the top of her head. âI wont let them hit me next time then,â Tom murmured and (y/n) huffed, knowing there was no stopping Tom fighting for her.
-
Their first year of Hogwarts goes by too quickly and Tom almost wants to beg for them to stay at Hogwarts for the summer, but the rules were set and they had to leave, heading back to London with everyone else, watching their new home disappear behind mountains and greenery. âitâs only two months,â (y/n) said softly, sitting right next to him on the train.
Tom huffed quietly, crossing his arms as he looked away from the window. He didnât want to go back to the orphanage, where he and (y/N) were seen as odd and dangerous, well-more him than her but still. He wanted to stay at Hogwarts, where they were welcomed and the only person who gave Tom an odd look was Dumbledore.
âTwo months too long,â Tom mumbled, resting his head on hers as she wrapped her arms around his, the two dreading their return to the orphanage.
-
The years passed, Tom and (y/n) grew up, but their bond never broke, only deepening as the years went by. Tom had made âfriendsâ with the Slytherin purebloods after discovering his lineage-he was the descendant of Salazar Slytherin, his mother a Gaunt. His father, a muggle.
In turn, Tom helped (y/n) discover her lineage, she was a half-blood like him, though both her parents were wizards, her mother a half-blood and father a muggleborn, her mother was from a well-off family that had curated a better version of the âskelegrowâ potion and had made millions off it, which is why (y/n) had so much money in her vault, and continued to have money going into it.
Though being from a family of brilliant potion makers hadnât saved them from tuberculosis, and thatâs how (y/n) ended up at the orphanage.
Tom was secretly glad for that, since if her parents hadnât died-they never wouldâve met, as dark as that thought was.
He looked up at her from his potions book, his gaze softening as he admired her beauty. Sheâd always been a pretty girl, but now that they were in their 6th year, both 16 now, sheâd blossomed into a rose that he wanted to preserve and keep safe for the rest of his years.
He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead, tucking it behind her ear. She didnât move, grown used to his constant touches and fixes of her appearance. His hand found hers after and she intertwined their fingers, absentmindedly spinning the silver snake signet ring sheâd bought him for his birthday a month back.
She knew how important his lineage was to him, so sheâd bought him a new family heirloom. Such an item only made him fall harder for her-heâd known since third year he was in love with her, after finally realizing what all his feelings for her meant-protectiveness, obsessiveness, the need to care for her and keep her safe. When he hit puberty, he began wanting to hold her in different ways, not just hug her and hold her hand, but kiss her knuckles and lips, for her to be his girl.
He planned to ask her to be his girl this Valentineâs day, since he knew (y/n) liked cute things like that, he planned to get her a bouquet of her favorite flowers and make her a cake.
He absolutely had no idea how to bake but how hard could it be?
âYouâre staring,â (y/n) murmured as she glanced up from her transfiguration essay, her potions essay finished and put to the side. Tom only smirked at her, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckle and she fondly rolled her eyes.
âHow could I not? Not even I could resist such beauty.â Tom teased his oldest and greatest friend, snickering as she flicked her hand out of his to pinch his chin.
âOh, shut it you goober.â (y/n) chuckled, turning his face to look back at his potions essay. Tom smirked, catching her hand again, intertwining their fingers as he continued to work on his essay.
That night he snuck into the kitchens, and tried to make a chocolate cake for (y/n), following the instructions of a baking cookbook. It was like potions, how hard could it be?
Very hard. As Tom found out.
Heâd fucked up miraculously, the kitchen was a mess, He had chocolate powder and flour all over him, his hair had butter in it, and the cake itself was burned beyond recognition. He let out a low long sigh, resting his hands on the kitchen counter, his head hanging between his shoulders.
He was a master at potions, Slughornâs favorite student-right next to (y/n), and he could cook, pretty well even. But baking? Baking was apparently such a different art that he couldnât comprehend.
He let out another sigh, flicking his wand to clean up the mess, washing his hands several times before trying to get the mess out of his hair, scrunching his nose at the greasy feeling.
âWhat are you doing?â Tom jumped five feet in the air, his wand hitting the ceiling before comically clattering to the floor, loudly. He turned, seeing (y/n) stifling laughter, a hand over her mouth as tears filled her eyes from holding her laughter back.
Tom sighed, turning his head and waving his hand and she burst into laughter, giggling loudly as she tipped into the nearest counter, filling the room with the wonderful sound. Tom huffed with a fond roll of his eyes, picking up his wand. âI was attempting to make a cake, but Iâm bollocks at baking apparently.â Tom grumbled, finally cleaning his hair of butter and flour, it was clean of his hair gel too so it was loose and wavy.
Tom cleared his throat with a shrug, he didnât want to ruin the surprise-he knew (y/n) liked surprises, at least the kind that were nice and private-heâd planned to ask her to be his girl when they went on patrol together tomorrow night.
âJust making it, I was curious if I could bake at all. Turns out, I can't.â Tom said, putting the supplies he used away, grabbing his wand from the floor and sliding it into his pocket. (y/n) hummed, closing the cookbook.
âSure. Every teenage boy around Valentineâs day just makes a cake, for fun, with no alternative motives.â (y/n) drawled, a littleâŠhurt that he wasnât telling her the truth, they told each other everything after all. Tom only shrugged, walking around the counter to take her hand.
âEven if I did, Itâs a waste, Iâm rubbish at making cake,â Tom said with a wince and (y/n) snorted, shaking her head as they left the kitchen together, Tom walking with her as she finished up her prefect patrol, dropping her off at her common room. âSee you tomorrow (y/n).â Tom said, kissing her cheek and she huffed, the action so familiar that it didnât feel out of place and she kissed his cheek back.
âSee you tomorrow, Tom, tell me how it goes.â (y/n) said, knocking on the barrel to enter her common room. Tom rose his brow.
âHow what goes?â he asked, mostly teasing-he knew what she was implying. She snorted, looking at him over her shoulder, illuminated by the warm Hufflepuff lanterns, a true vision.
âYour date, gânight Tommy,â (y/n) said, heading into her common room and Tom sighed, already missing her.
âYouâll be the first to know,â he murmured softly, turning on his heel to head back to the Slytherin common room.
-
Valentine's day was the next day, and (y/n) was greeted by bouquets of flowers in her dorm room, a school-supplied owl sitting at her window sill. âoh wow (y/n)!â her roommate Macy gasped, admiring all the flowers that surrounded (y/n)âs bed. Sunflowers and roses, lilies and forget me nots, along with babyâs breath and Hydrangeas.
âWow indeed,â (y/n) murmured, looking for a tag amongst the bouquets but found nothing, only a short poem. âWhen I say I love you, please believe it's true. When I say forever, know I'll never leave you. When I say goodbye, promise me you won't cry, Because the day I'll be saying that will be the day I die.â (y/n) read softly, looking at the handwriting.
It was very familiar, too familiar.
Tom sent her the bouquets and wrote her a love poem.
âThatâs so sweet! Who sent it to you?â Clover asked, helping pick up the piles of bouquets and setting them on (y/n)âs bed so they were out of the way.
âTom did,â (y/n) said softly, flipping the card in her hands as her roommates gasped.
âI knew it! No boy looks at someone like that and thinks of them as just a friend! You owe me five galleons!â Penny said triumphantly, pointing at Macy who let out a huff. (y/n) ignored them, feeling her cheeks warm up as she looked at all the beautiful bouquets, all for herâŠsent from Tom.
Her favorite cake was chocolate, and she loved chocolate strawberries.
OhâŠoh my.
-
At breakfast her cinnamon roll got charmed to look like a heart, and she got another bouquet during the morning owl post, she felt like her face was on fire, holding the bouquet gently as her fellow Hufflepuffâs all giggled and asked her who the gifts were from. She looked up from across the hall, seeing Tom staring at her, wand in his fist as he rested his face against it, gazing at her with intense eyes.
She looked away first, unable to help her smile.
Did Tom really feel the same way for her? Sheâd realized she loved him in their 4th year, when Tom had treated her so sweetly when sheâd broken her arm after a bad quidditch match.
Heâd attempted to make her a cake, even though he was shit at baking. Her smile grew bigger and she hugged the bouquet in her arms, unable to stop her small laugh.
After breakfast she met up with Tom as everyone shuffled out of the great hall, her hand finding his just as it always did. âI see you got some gifts this morning,â Tom hummed, smirking down at her and she smiled up at him, leaning up to kiss his cheek-this time, a different feeling behind it. Tom could feel it, his pale face turning pink as she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder.
âI did, I love them. Thank you.â She whispered and Tom cleared his throat. âwhy thank me? I didnât send them.â He said, his voice cracking as they walked through the corridor to their first class of the day, advanced potions.
âSure you didnât, just like you were âjust making a cakeâ for no reason and didnât write an adorable poem.â (y/n) teased and Tom huffed, puffing his cheeks a bit. She moved to stand in front of him, making him hold the bouquet as she grabbed his face, his eyes locked onto her. âI love you too.â She whispered, the first to say it and Tomâs heart exploded, his face turning beet red.
âYou know?â he croaked and closed his eyes as her lips brushed against the corner of his lips. (y/n) giggled, nuzzling against his face and he wrapped an arm around her.
âOnly since this morning, I know your handwriting too well.â (y/n) said softly and he turned his head, the two staring into each other's eyes before they both leaned in, lips meeting in a shy first kiss.
For both, it felt like a moment of âfinallyâ. Years of hidden feelings and yearning coming to a climax with this kiss. They pulled away for only a moment before Tom kissed her again, dropping the bouquet to the floor as he moved his hands to hold her face-her hands wrapping around his neck as he backed her into a wall, kissing her gently yet passionately, desperate to kiss her like heâd imagined so many times.
âTom,â (y/n) breathed as he kissed her, several times before moving his lips to her cheek then trailing down, his hands pulling her hair back to gain access to her neck, peppering light kisses along her skin.
âI love you,â he said against her skin, desperate, breathy-he needed her to know how much he thought about her, how she invaded his dreams-even his nightmares. He loved her, he yearned for her, he worshiped her, he was devoted to her.
She could tell him to jump from the astronomy tower, and he would do it without question.
âI love you too,â (y/n) whispered back and their lips met again. The bell for class pulled them apart, the two staring at each other-breathing heavily, lips shiny and faces flushed.
âWe should get to class, before we lose our seats.â Tom whispered and (y/n) nodded. They hesitated for a moment, before softly kissing once more. Tom pulled away, smiling softly at (y/n) before picking up the bouquet and handing it to her, holding her bag as their hands intertwined-a familiar thing but now, it was new.
-
To anyone on the outside-it seemed like things were the same between Tom and (y/n)-as theyâd always been super close, and super touchy, and super dependent on each other. But for them it was different. Late night talks featured new touches and soft kisses, whispers of âI love youâ and sugar laced words. Study sessions were interrupted by sneaky touches and kisses, distracting each other until they both snuck to a quiet corner to make out.
Tom dropping her off at her common room every night ended with a kiss, one that lasted, and maybe had two or three more before they both reluctantly pulled away.
And perhaps maybe, (y/n) snuck into Tomâs common room when she felt lonely-going on nights she was scheduled for patrol, yes abusing her prefect position but she didnât reaaally care.
(y/n) said the password to the Slytherin common room wall, and the snake archway curled up, revealing the door. (y/n) quickly went inside, going up the stairs and into the main room. It was past curfew now, so everyone was either sleeping or at least in their dorms.
Tom, was sitting by one of the fireplaces, on one the long couches, a book in his lap. She snuck up behind him, looking at the cover of the book. âSecrets of the Darkest Art?â (y/n) said from behind him and he jumped a little, sighing as she wrapped her arms around his neck from behind, leaning his head back on her shoulder.
 âThe best way to defend against the dark arts, is to know them completely.â Tom said with a cool tone, smirking as she snorted and came around the couch to sit on his lap. He tossed the book aside, wrapping his arms around her waist. âWhat do I owe the pleasure (n/n)?â Tom asked with a hum.
(y/n) shrugged, moving closer to cuddle up to him, his arms wrapping around her completely, a hand resting on her shoulder. âJust felt like seeing you,â she murmured softly and Tom sighed, resting his head on hers.
âJust canât stay away from me?â Tom teased, chuckling as she pinched his chin. He turned his head into hers and kissed her softly, a feeling heâd never get tired of.
-
Halfway through April, things started to get weird at Hogwarts, students, particularly muggleborns, were being petrified left and right-leading to being hospitalized until Professor Diggory could make the mandrake draught.
After the 5th student, a muggleborn Hufflepuff, had been petrified-Hogwarts staff had decided to pause prefect patrols until further notice, and there was talk about the school closing to prevent any further attacks-since it was unknown what was causing them.
âI can't imagine the school closing, I mean-going back to the orphanage? For who knows how long?â (y/n) said, biting at her nails, tucked against Tomâs side-they were in one of the courtyards, attempting to enjoy the early spring weather but (y/n) was anxious and worried.
âIâm sure they wonât close the school (y/n), too many students rely on it.â Tom said calmly, running his hand down her side before wrapping his arm around her, buried under her cloak. âI know youâre worried love, but Iâm sure everything will be okay, just some loose pet petrifying a student, that Hagrid kid collects them doesnât he?â Tom murmured and (y/n) sighed, rubbing her face.
âYeah, but what sortâve creature petrifies people?â (y/n) huffed and Tom shrugged, kissing the back of her head. âDonât worry your pretty little head about it (n/n), things will go back to normal soon.â Tom said quietly, rubbing his thumb against her side and she let out another huff, turning to fully lay against him, burying her face in his shoulder.
âI hope youâre right Tommy.â
-
(y/n) was tired, and needed to go pee. The dorm bathrooms were all being used-oddly enough-so she left the common room to go find a bathroom close by to use it. Her feet took her to the 2nd floor bathrooms, since the basement floor and main floor oddly didnât have any.
She yawned as she entered, the door creaking open-at the same time she heard something thump to the floor and her eyes flashed open-a scream just barely ripping from her throat as she saw the dead body of a Ravenclaw student.
Then in the reflection of the sink mirrors-she saw two large yellow eyes; along withâŠTom-trying to rush towards her, eyes wide with horror. â(Y/N)! NO!â
Then it all went black, like being suspended in darkness, she couldn't feel anything, or see or hear anything. It was like being in an endless dream of nothingness-except she couldnât wake up.
She didnât know how much time passed, or if time passed at all, but she woke up in the hospital wing-feeling stiff and achy, her head pounding. She could taste something awful in her mouth-her tongue dry and sticking to her cheeks. âeugh-â (y/n) groaned, reaching up with her aching arm to rub her face.
A pair of familiar hands grabbed her hand, and Tom was in her view, looking terrible, he was paler than usual and had dark bags under his eyes-his hair a mess. â(y/n),â he said with a croaking voice, hugging her as she sat up towards him. âyouâre awake, thank merlin.â
âWhat happened?â (y/n) asked, her voice raspy from not using it for, however long sheâd been âasleep.â Tom let out a shaky breath into her neck, clutching her clothes tightly.
âwhat do you remember?â Tom asked quietly, pulling back slightly to cup her face. (y/n) frowned, recalling what happened to her when she got petrified.
âI went to the girlâs bathroom cause all the dorm room ones were full andâŠ.i sawâŠa girlâs body and-big yellow eyes andâŠ.you.â (y/n) said, her voice growing quieter, looking at Tom-a realization coming to mind. âTom-why were you in there? Why was there a dead girl? What was that-thing?â (y/n) asked rapidly and Tom felt fear flood his chest-fear of losing her if she discovered the things he hid from her because she was too sweet for the darker side of him.
He drew his wand, swallowing hard. âObliviate.â He murmured and (y/n)âs eyes fluttered as the memory of seeing Tom in the bathroom with a dead body erased from her mind. She slumped a bit and Tom cradled her, shushing her quietly as he replaced the memory with his skilled occlumency abilities, she still went to the girls bathroom-still found the body, but instead she saw a large spider that had petrified her after biting her-and Tom was nowhere to be seen.
The next time (y/n) woke up, she was being asked about what had happened by Aurors and she told them what she knew. She saw the girls dead body, saw the spider-it bit her, petrifying her-and the thing ran off. That was all the Aurors needed, leaving (y/n) with Tom by her side, clutching her hand tightly.
âItâs over now (y/n),â Tom murmured, leaning up to kiss her forehead and she turned her head towards him, pressing her forehead to his and he held her close, letting out a shaky sigh.
-
Tom glanced back at (y/n), who was asleep in his bed, heâd refused to let her back to her dorm room-claiming worry that the spider was still loose-it was, but only Tom and Hagrid, who was now expelled, knew that the spider wasnât responsible for all the attacks-so heâd convinced (y/n) to spend the night in his room.
He had an alternative motive. He turned back to the bubbling potion that was cooking on the floor of his dorm room-his roommates were all out, Tom told them to scram, and they had, knowing if they hadnât they faced a worse fate than detention.
Tom took a deep breath, dipping his bare hands into the pitch-black potion, which stained his skin to look like empty space-a void. He leaned back on his heels, thankful for having cast a silencing charm on himself because he reached into his chest, gasping in pain-he hadnât imagined it would hurt this much.
He reached further into his chest, blood mixing with the black horcrux potion. he felt like he was ripping himself apart as he pulled out his soul, the thing glowing in his palms-still very bright, but tainted, a fracture split right down the middle.
He cracked the fracture completely, gasping in pain as it rocked through his body like heâd broken several bones. âShit.â He groaned, putting one half back inside him and then standing up on shaky legs, slowly walking over to (y/n)-who was deep asleep, unable to wake as heâd slipped her a sleeping draught to make sure she stayed asleep.
Heâd originally planned to make his diary-a gift from her-his first Horcrux but after that close call-the way she nearly died from the basilisk, nearly died because of his carelessness, he couldnât risk it again-he couldnât risk her.
So, he knelt over her, placing his soul inside her, right next to her heart, feeling it snug right next to her own soul-claiming it, protecting it. He swallowed, closing his eyes as he felt her warmth flow through him, feeling her love for him-her every emotion, and he loved it.
He kissed her cheek, sitting back up and cleaning the mess up, making sure there wasnât a spot of blood or ink anywhere; making sure (y/n) was as pure and spotless as she had always been. He crawled into bed next to her, pressing his hand between her breasts, feeling his soul beneath her skin-cradled by her warmth, protected by her beating heart.
He let out a low sigh, closing his eyes-bringing her closer to him, feeling her beating heart beneath his palm as he rested his hand on her back.
-
(y/n) felt quite-odd when she woke up the morning after-completely unaware of what Tom had done to her. Her throat felt sticky and it felt like something was weighing heavy in her chest, clinging to her like a sickness. Tom woke up before her, glancing back at her as she slowly sat up in his bed, looking a bit ill.
â(y/n),â Tom breathed-instantly at her side, gently making her lay down again. âyou look terrible love-must be lingering effects from the spider bite.â Tom lied, not that (y/n) knew he was lying. But she nodded, trusting him so she went back to sleep, curled up in his bed as he went to get her some breakfast and medicine.
After about a week the sticky feeling went away but that odd heavy feeling in her chest didnât-it was like something was stubbornly clinging to her, like a parasite or something. However, an exam from Madam Tegner revealed nothing in her body that would cause such a thing, so she eventually brushed it off-and soon that heaviness became second nature.
Lately she also felt more in tune with Tomâs emotions, able to tell when he was feelingâŠanything really-even when he attempted to hide them from her. Angry, sad, frustrated, aroused, happy-everything, she could feel his emotions like they were her own.
She only thought that their bond was deeper than she even realized; because Tom claimed that he could also tune into her emotions, teasing her that she felt confused yet delighted about it-since now they could feel each other from even miles away.
The last few weeks of 6th year passed without incident, Tom and (y/n) returned to the orphanage for the final time, as next year theyâd be on their own-aged out of the system. âwe should get an apartment,â Tom murmured into her hair as they rested on his bed, relaxing from the long train ride and lugging their things back from Hogwarts.
(y/n) hummed in agreement, her arms wrapped around him, head resting on his chest. âThat sounds good,â she murmured sleepily, nuzzling into him. She always felt so-complete-when pressed against him like this, more so than usual as of late. Â âWhere?â
âsomewhere close to Diagon Alley, someplace just big enough for the two of us-we could get that owl you wanted.â Tom murmured, squeezing her closer and she hummed, smiling.
âThat sounds nice,â she sighed, feeling sleep dragging her under, Tom also getting tired. âweâll name her Ingrid.â Tom chuckled lightly, kissing her forehead, adjusting himself so they were laid properly on the bed.
âSounds like a plan love,â
-
(y/n) woke up one mid-summer morning to Tom, gone, it was odd-he never usually went anywhere without telling her. But he had left her a letter, telling her he was going to get some closure about his family, and when he returned a day later-he had a new ring.
âItâs the gaunt family ring, my uncle gave it to me-as heâs far too old to carry on the name.â Tom said proudly, handing the ring to her. It was quite the pretty ring, with a gold band that had a diamond-shaped black stone atop it, with an interesting hidden symbol within it, but she couldnât make it out.
âItâs quite the heirloom.â (y/n) said softly, blinking as he took it from her and slid it onto her ring finger, the ring feeling oddly heavy on her hand. âTom?â
He knelt down in front of her, swallowing nervously, looking up at her as he took her hand, pressing a kiss on her knuckles. âI know we are still young, still a year from being of age but weâve known each other all our lives andâŠI cannot bear but to ask you now-be my wife?â Tom asked, taking a short heavy breath as she stared at him.
âAre-are you serious?â she asked softly, her other hand covering her mouth as she felt tears in her eyes. Tom nodded. âWhen am I not?â he teased gently, grunting as she tackled him to the ground, wrapping her arms around him tightly.
âYes-yes you-goober.â (y/n) sobbed into his neck and Tom smiled, sitting up to hug her properly, nuzzling her shoulder. Â He tilted her head up to make her look at him and she smiled, his smile widened and their lips met, arms wrapping around each other tightly-refusing to let go.
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When they returned to school, her housemates had instantly zeroed in on her new ring, especially her roommates who practically jumped her. âOh merlin! He proposed!â Macy squealed, admiring the ring on (y/n)âs hand a Clover wrapped her arms around (y/n)âs shoulders and jumped, making (y/n) wobble back and forth.
âye-yeah! He came back from seeing his mom's side of the family, only his uncle was left-and his uncle gave him the family ring, which Tom proposed with.â (y/n) said, swooning a bit at the memory and her roommates all squealed again, grinning as Tom came up behind (y/n).
âCongratulations Tom,â Rosier said, admiring the engagement ring. âfamily heirloom right? Impressive.â Tom tilted his chin up with pride, his fingers intertwined with (y/n)s on top of the table, making sure to show off her engagement ring.
âOnly the best for (y/n),â Tom said, kissing (y/n)âs cheek and she giggled, feeling her face get warm as Tom smirked at her. âSoftie,â (y/n) muttered back at him and he leaned in close, whispering in her ear.
âOnly for you.â
-
7th year went by without a hitch-since it was mostly a lot of studying, exams, and more exams. There were a few nasty incidents around the school, all dealing with muggleborns-but the worst was a broken ankle and the others just really mean pranks.
Tom, was head boy this year-so he took the liberty to practically move (y/n) into his private dorm, which she wasnât saying no to at all, it felt nice to spend every night in the same bed again.
Now it was a week from graduation, and (y/n) and Tom were having a date up in the astronomy tower, thankfully classes were done so they had it to themselves. âSo hard to believe in a week itâs over,â (y/n) said softly, resting against Tom between his legs, her head against his shoulder.
Tom hummed in agreement, he didnât really want his Hogwarts years to end-thatâs why he planned to ask Dippet for the soon to be vacant DADA professor position, since Professor Merrythought was, or well had, retired this year.
âSeven years has gone by so fast,â he murmured, wrapping his arms around her, snuggling his head into her neck. âbut itâs a new chapter for us, our own apartment, getting married, all that good stuff.â (y/n) smiled, unable to help her laughter as she snuggled into him.
âI like that plan.â She whispered and Tom smiled, kissing her forehead.
-
âHe said no?â (y/n) asked softly as Tom left the headmasters office, she could feel his frustration and anger like it was her own, but she reached out towards him and he melted into her arms, her very presence calming him.
âSays Iâm âtoo youngâ for the position.â Tom grumbled, resting his cheek on her head, sighing heavily. (y/n) hummed softly, she couldnât say she disagreed. âWell, we did only just graduate from school, and weâre not even 18 yet.â (y/n) said softly, Tom sighed heavily again, kissing her forehead.
âYouâve made your point love,â he mumbled. âIâll ask again in a few years,â (y/n) nodded, agreeing with that plan and his hand slipped into hers as they went to go finish packing up, as it was the last full day at Hogwarts.
For the final time, they spent the night in Tomâs private head boy dorm room; (y/n) changed into her pajamas, Tom stepping out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth, his gaze lingering on her exposed skin before her shirt covered it up.
He swallowed harshly and (y/n) turned, feeling his eyes on her. âYou okay?â she asked and Tom stepped forward, wrapping his arms round her-hands slipping under her shirt. âTommy?â
âItâs our last night here, why donât we make the most of it?â he asked softly, leaning in closer, pressing a soft kiss to her lips and she let out a quiet huff, her eyes fluttering as her hands gripped his forearms.
âBut-â (y/n) whispered, tilting her head as his lips ventured down to her neck, leaving soft kisses. âwe-donât have-protection,â (y/n) weakly protested, not really wanting to at all but theyâd never gone past being touchy really, and while she did want toâŠ
âI got some this last weekend at Hogsmeade.â Tom said with a soft smile, backing her up towards his bed, laying her down gently, his hand cradling the back of her neck. âcondoms and a contraception potion, just in case.â He murmured, leaning over her, a knee between her legs as he lowered himself to kiss her neck again, his hand slowly going under her sleep shirt to explore.
âoh-okay,â (y/n) murmured, her eyes fluttering closed as she relaxed, her hands wrapping around his neck to hold onto him as he unbuttoned her shirt and slowly pulled it off her, admiring everything about her, every last stretch mark and mole.
âIâm so lucky to have you as my bride,â Tom murmured, moving his head down to kiss down her neck to her chest, before kissing her breast, taking a nipple into his mouth-something heâd wanted to do for a while.
(y/n) moaned softly, already breathing heavily as his tongue swirled around her nipple, his hand giving attention to her other breast, gently rolling her nipple between his fingers. âTommy,â she breathed out, her face hot as he pulled away from her breasts, leading kisses down to her stomach, slowly pulling off her sleep pants-her hips arching up to let him do so.
âBeautiful,â he murmured as he revealed her virgin cunt, a sight heâd wanted to see for some time. He leaned in close, spreading her thighs as he sunk to his knees in front of the bed. âTom-â (y/n) croaked, feeling extra hot at the very thought of what he was about to do.
âDonât worry darling, Iâll take care of you-just like I always have.â Tom said softly, using his fingers to spread her glistening folds, biting his lip in admiration of it all. âSo wet for me already,â he murmured, closing his eyes and connecting his tongue to her clit, smirking as she squealed and jolted a bit.
He held her hips down, slowly moving his tongue up and down her pretty cunt, swirling it around her clit-sucking lightly-then back down, pushing the tip of his tongue to her entrance, grinning at every reaction he got from her.
âAh-oh-â (y/n) moaned, her back arched as she gripped the sheets of Tomâs bed-one of her hands finding his and he quickly intertwined their fingers, focusing on giving her absolute pleasure with his tongue. âhow-how are you-so-good at this?â (y/n) asked, knowing Tom had only ever been with her, and theyâd never done this before.
Tom paused for a moment, his ears turning pink as he pulled away from her, clearing his throat. âI uh, mightâveâŠread some books about pleasuring a woman during sexâŠâ Tom mumbled and (y/n) couldnât help her small giggle, finding it adorable. Before she could say anything more, his tongue was on her again, licking a wide stripe right up to her clit that was getting very sensitive and she gasped-hips jolting.
He removed his hand from her hip, slicking up his fingers with her arousal, groaning a bit at the feeling of her being so wet, because of him. âTell me if anything feels bad,â he said-pulling away for only a moment, slowly pushing his finger into her-his jaw dropping open a bit at the feeling of her warm wet walls enveloping his finger. âholy shit.â He muttered, fixated on the sight of his finger disappearing inside her.
(y/n) groaned at the feeling-it was new, not unpleasant but she wasnât sure if she liked it or not. âIt feels-weird but-not bad.â (y/n) stuttered and Tom nodded, connecting his tongue to her clit again and that eased the feeling into something-really good. âoh-â (y/n) moaned, her hips slightly moving towards the feeling and Tom smirked.
After a few minutes of slowly pumping his finger into her, he added a second, looking up at her to make sure it was okay. (y/n)âs breath stuttered, and her brows furrowed, her legs opening wider and he took that as a good sign, fluttering his tongue against her clit as he slowly thrust his fingers into her, slowly pulling her apart-bringing up the pleasure to make her feel good.
He sat up further on his knees, getting closer to her as (y/n)âs breath began to elevate-her face flushing deeper and her hand clutched his tightly. âoh-Tom-something feels-â she gasped out and he pressed his tongue harder to her clit, looking for the tell-tale signs of her approaching climax.
He curled his fingers, adding a third, going faster with them and (y/n) gasped again, focusing on that feeling that was growing rapidly and then that warmth that was growing in her gut exploded-filling her body and going up and down her spine several times as Tomâs tongue swiped over her clit until she tried to pull away, gasping for breath.
âOh-shit,â (y/n) panted, tears in her eyes as he moved to lean over her, brushing his clean hand over her face, thumb ghosting over her cheek. âWas that okay?â he asked softly and (y/n) nodded, watching as he took off his sleep pants and boxers, revealing his cock-her eyes went to it immediately and she reached up, gently wrapping her fingers around him and Tom groaned softly, his eyes fluttering as she pumped him a few times.
âCan i?â (y/n) asked softly, sitting up to be even with his hips and Tom swallowed harshly, flashes of wet dreams and fantasies filling his brain. âuh-sure.â He said in a raspy tone, clenching his jaw as she scooted to get closer to him, her hand still wrapped around his cock.
She stuck her tongue out-licking the tip almost shyly-unsure of how it would taste or feel. Tom groaned, his hand grabbing the bedpost to keep himself upright, his head falling between his shoulders, hand gently caressing her face. âShit love,â he moaned softly, feeling her tongue explore his cock further, going down the side and then back up-her fingers swirling over the tip to make his hips jolt.
Like Tom, sheâd read a book about pleasuring ones partner in bed so she opened her mouth wider, taking his cock into her mouth and Tom let out a long low groan, his jaw dropping open as he felt her engulf his cock in her mouth-his breath catching in his chest. âoh shit-(y/n).â he panted, resting his hand on her head as she began to bob her head on his cock.
What she couldnât fit in her mouth she stroked with her hand, looking up at him as his face devolved into pleasure, his mouth open-brows furrowed-eyes closed. It was a beautiful sight, to see him so out of control.
She was the only one allowed to see him like this. She swirled her tongue around the tip and he tugged her off his cock-spit and precum connecting her swollen lips to his cock. âI-I want to be inside you when I cum.â Tom said in a gruff voice and (y/n) swallowed, he laid her down again, grabbed the condom and went to put it on but (y/n) grabbed his wrist.
âI want to feel you completely-when you take my virginity.â (y/n) said and Tom swallowed hard, staring at her-his nostrils flaring before he nodded, moving to lay over her, aligning his cock with her entrance.
âReady?â he asked softly, brushing his thumb over her cheek and she nodded, their lips connecting as he slipped inside her. It was a new feeling, a bit uncomfortable but it didnât hurt-not with how well Tom had prepared her.
But she could feel him-all his warmth and every inch of him, panting into his mouth as he groaned-able to feel her completely, squeezing around him, all his. Only his. âoh (y/n),â he groaned softly against her mouth, completely seated inside her.
Their arms wrapped around each other, holding the other as close as possible. âI love you,â (y/n) whispered, kissing him again and he groaned softly again, kissing her back almost feverishly. âI love you too,â he murmured, pulling out of her before he got carried away-putting the condom on and pushing back inside her, slowly beginning to thrust.
(y/n) gasped and moaned softly as he made love to her, for the very first time-and certainly not the last. She clung to him like he was the only thing keeping her on this plane of existence, rolling her hips gently in time with his, feeling him sink into her again and again-warmth building in both their bodies.
âYou feel so good.â Tom moaned softly, laying on top of her, his hands lightly bracing himself so he didnât squish her but she tugged him down so he was, wanting to feel completely consumed by him.
Tom did not increase his pace as he rolled his hips into her-not wanting to rush any part of their first time, kissing (y/n) softly and slowly, the feeling so intense and even more so due to his soul being intertwined with hers-unbeknownst to her.
âI love you,â Tom groaned, panting into her mouth as they felt that coil in their guts begin to tighten, their hands intertwined between them-squeezing tightly.
âI love you too,â (y/n) moaned, gasping against his cheek as she came after his fingers found her clit, rubbing in quick small circles to bring her over the edge, and a few moments later Tom followed her lead, coming inside the condom and collapsing on top of her.
They didnât talk for a while, simply basking in each otherâs presence, laying in Tomâs bed. They didnât need words, all it took was a short look and (y/n) smiled, leaning in to kiss Tom and he eagerly kissed her back, cradling the back of her head as he pulled her close-tugging the blankets over them, his arms wrapped around her for the rest of the night.
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The train ride back to London was uneventful, Tomâs friends invited him and (y/n) to sit with them but Tom, like for every ride to and from Hogwarts-just wanted to be with (y/n) so they found a compartment at the back of the train-enjoying the quiet of each other as the train departed from Hogsmeade station for the final time. At least for them.
Several hours later the train arrived at Kings Cross station and Tom helped (y/n) step down from the train car, holding her hand as they went to get their trunks, and then they set off to go to their new apartment-bought thanks to (y/n)âs family money that she felt she had too much of not to use. It was across from Diagon alley, a one-bedroom apartment with a narrow kitchen but a thankfully sizable bathroom.
Thanks to magic-they did some expansion charms to resize their kitchen, and their closets, and quickly made their first apartment a little home-(y/n) got that owl she wanted and Tom went to work at a shop in Diagon Alley as a starter job while he applied for better jobs.
It was a good start for them, finally away from the orphanage and beginning a new chapter in their lives, together as theyâd always been.
-end of part 1-
Part two!(if you like happy endings; maybe dont read-very angstyyy)
