Staking Claim ༊*·˚
18+ MDNI !!!
Pairing: Tom Riddle x Fem! Reader / 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 ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡
READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!!!
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Riddle had formed an attachment to you by pure accident. He hadn’t 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 didn’t spend much time with thoughts like these generally, just kept them in mind. Beautiful girls could have a lot of influence without realising it, he’d 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, he’d 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 hadn’t 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. Riddle’s 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.
From that day onward, Riddle formed an odd fascination with you. Despite him seeing healing magic as a soft subject, he couldn’t 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 didn’t 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 you’d done in your own time, fascinated by the challenge of healing people from such obscure dark magic.
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.
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 you’ve been asking him if you can come here, rather than him inviting you. He would subtly suggest that he’d 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 hadn’t 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 hadn’t intended for this to happen so early, but he had to make sure he didn’t 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. He’d been carrying it around since he bought it so that you wouldn’t find it prematurely. Running out of time, he directed the shard of his soul into the necklace.
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 soul’s 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. He’d 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 didn’t 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 couldn’t trust anybody else, as no one knew how Myrtle had died.
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 Knight’s frighten you on your walk back from his room last night, but no matter what he’d done to get here, he finally had you where he wanted you, wanting to spend all your time, even your most vulnerable, with him.
You’d brought a small overnight bag on patrol with you, clinging to Riddle’s 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 couldn’t 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 couldn’t ruin by acting too early. He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, looking down at you.
“The door is locked, darling, no one can get in, we are safe, get yourself ready for bed,” he murmurs in his best attempt at reassurance. His hand trails featherlight to the necklace at your neck, then withdraws. He’d been touchier these last few weeks, getting you gradually used to him, so you don’t 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. Riddle’s 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.
Once he joins you in the bed once more, you’re 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.
“I’m scared,” you squeak, balling your hands into the soft material of his night shirt. He tuts gently.
“I see that, darling, you’re shaking like a little leaf,” he says, rubbing your back slightly. “But I won’t let any harm come to you, ever,” 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 you’d be safe. “Do you hear me?” he asks slowly, trying not to let his annoyance show. He grabs your chin, tilting your head so you’re forced to meet his eye. “No harm will come to you so long as you’re with me, I swear to you, you have no reason to fear, do you hear me?” You nod nervously. Riddle huffs. “Words.”
“Yes… I hear you,” you stammer, clinging to him. His hand drops from your chin, fiddling with your necklace. It’s strange that he cannot feel his own touch on it, yet he is still drawn to the object all the time. “But what about–” you begin.
“No, you are safe with me,” he whispers through his teeth. “Now stop trembling, it’s ridiculous,” Riddle spots from the drop in your expression that he wasn’t meant to say that. He takes a deep breath; he isn’t well practised in this compassion thing, but he’s performing it the best he can. “I just mean that I don’t want you to feel frightened, darling,” 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 aren’t 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. “Let me relax you, show you there’s nothing to worry about when I’m around,” 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. “Would you like that?” When you nod, he huffs. “Words,” he repeats, his voice tight.
“Yes,” you whisper, shy and apologetic, trying to focus on his hand caressing your thigh rather than the sound of thunder.
“Was that so hard?” 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 “Focus on me,” 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. Riddle’s 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 can’t place. As he removes your underwear, you try to lean up and kiss him, but he pulls away, shaking his head. “Not yet, darling,” 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 don’t want him to stop. Your necklace feels hot against your skin, your head spinning as Riddle begins to speak once more. “Doesn’t that feel nice? Your body certainly likes it… Only I can make you feel this way,” he whispers, lips brushing your ear, breath washing over the side of your neck.
“It feels nice,” you choke out in response, squirming a little, unable to believe how quickly you allowed him to do this. Sure, you’d 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.
“That’s a good girl,” 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 he’s 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. “That’s it, doesn’t that feel good?” he coos, watching his fingers disappear within you with a dark satisfaction. You are most certainly his now. You can’t 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.
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.
“Shhh, shhh, you’re a strong girl, I know you can handle it,” 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 hadn’t 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. “You’re safe with me,” he whispers in your ear, his voice rough. “You can’t trust anyone but me. I’m all you need,” he grunts, curling his fingers against that spongy spot once more. “You don’t need anyone else, you belong with me and me alone,” he hisses, biting your neck once more. “Say it, you belong to me,” he urges, growling in annoyance when you only whimper. “Say. It.” he demands harshly, his hand on your hips slipping up into your hair, pulling it so you’re forced to look up at him.
“I belong to you,” you choke out, squirming, too hazy to register his words properly, but vulnerable enough to digest them, just as he wants you.
“That you do, good girl,” 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. “Only if you say it again,”
“I belong to you,” you moan, desperate for his gentleness, needing him as close as possible. He smirks, pleased that he’s got you. He grants you another gentle kiss, and another and another as you repeat your words over and over. He doesn’t 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 it’s no use. The pleasure makes you dizzy all over again, pleading with him against his lips. Your body collapses against the bed heavily; you hadn’t even realised that you’d tensed yourself off of it chasing Riddle’s lips, breathless and oversensitive. Riddle reaches for his wand, ending the vibrating spell, satisfied that you’ve 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.
“Alright, my darling?” he asks, knowing that he had just completely overwhelmed you. That had been his intention, and it seemed to have worked like he’d 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. “What’s got you fiddling?” he asks gently.
“Just felt compelled to touch it,” you shrug, your voice hoarse and weak. He presses a kiss to your forehead. He feels the gentle, warm caresses deep in his soul.
“Touch it all you like, darling, it’s yours after all.”
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