The ocean had grown monotonous, the same storms, the same waves, the same lonely men driven by lust. It had become dull and unsatisfying, with each victim becoming more and more mind-numbing. Even the thrill of hunting those with stronger willpower had subsided, the taste of sea salt on terrified lips had lost its value, though it was the only way to stay sustained.
As the tide receded, she lifted herself on the peaking sand dune, her tail submerged in the seal-infested waters. The swim to the coast of the Outer Banks had been smooth, the currents pushing her to the destination faster, and with each mile passed, the waters became colder. In the midst of late May, the waters were a soothing sixty degrees, the cool waves tranquilizing despite the incessant need for more.
She pressed her palms against the wet sand, the breeze warm against her wet skin, almost muggy. The bright sun had subdued her vision somewhat, for her eyes had been used to the darkness of the ocean, only breaking the surface at night to feed. Vainly, she preened at the sight of her skin almost glowing against the sunlight, soaking up the heat.
It was easy to see how humans found the land beautiful, with its white beaches and lush, green grass. From her position on the rising sand dune, she could see it all, the division between wild and civilized, where the calm ocean met manicured sand, and the sand to her food. Beyond the beach lay land too polished, too evenly trimmed to be natural, with small, white flags flying in the air. People swung metal clubs on the ground, abusing the Earth as dirt flew up with each swing. The laughter grated her ears, the urge to childishly veer them away overwhelming as the sounds of old and young men chattering filled them.
A fleeting thought later, and she finds herself propped fully on the sand, tail out for anyone to see if they so glanced over. Perhaps they’d think she was a seal, such as the ones they so eagerly wanted to rid of.
The hunt on land would be slightly harder, she thinks, eyes roaming the golf course. With senses dulled and instincts dampened, she would have a harder time lunge on her prey. But the meal would be so much more savory and delectable. She couldn’t pass up the hunt of her life, even if it meant disconnection with the sea.
The ocean made everything too easy: a single sentence to lure them out, a flick of her hair to show off the creamy skin hidden underneath, and men would salivate, willingly throwing themselves into their early graves. On land, she’d have something new, an exciting experience.
A group of young men laughed too loudly, dressed in pressed, pastel polos, moving from hole to hole, bodies relaxed and oblivious to the danger lurking in the waters. One bent at the waist, lining up a shot, another sitting in a golf cart nursing a drink, the last standing behind him, offering useless advice. All too boorish and aggravating.
An easy kill would make the trek on land redundant, something she was trying to swim away from. Her attention drifted past them, uninterested.
Then she saw him.
He stood a little away from the others, glaring down at his phone with furrowed brows and thinned lips, club leaning against his leg. Buzzed dark blond hair, tension-filled blue eyes, sun-kissed skin, and a jawline that would make her sisters fight to feed on. Her gaze lingered, slowly tracing the tension in his posture, the way his fingers flexed around the phone as if resisting the urge to throw it.
Making her decision, she submerged herself back into the water, swimming closer to the long stretch of sand, where very few people were scattered across it. Once close to the shore, she pushed herself into a sitting position, dragging more of herself out of the safety of the sea and hidden behind the large dunes of sand and beachgrass.
Her tail shimmered in the sun, as if begging her to rethink her choice, and the sudden dryness almost made her reconsider, but she pushed on. Bones cracked softly beneath her dark blue scales, protruding against her skin as the scales receded like the ocean waves. She bit her tongue in pain; the feel of her tail being broken into two separate limbs was unlike anything the ocean had ever demanded of her.
The ocean screamed in her ears as the bones shifted, cracking back in place, feeling each bone as it moved, knees bending where none had been before, joints forming with a sickening crunch that joined the agonizing music in her ears. Her scales receded, dragging against her nerves as they dissolved into her new flesh, leaving behind hypersensitive skin that shivered under the sun and wind.
Her spine arched violently as something deep inside her shifted, a loud splintering sound filling her ears, her spine tearing itself from her tail, splitting her tail at its root, before slowly settling, growing back steadily. Muscles seized, forced to relearn their purpose, her tail splitting as the fleshy skin holding her new legs together gleamed in the sun.
Gritting her teeth, she grabbed a nearby rock, too impatient to deal with the slow change, feeling as if hours had passed, though the sun overhead told her otherwise. It looked as if she had a grotesque birth defect, she thinks unamusingly, disgusted with the wet, sagging skin holding her new limbs together.
She takes the sharp rock, using the edge to slice the extra flesh off, blood gushing down her legs with each cut and dripping onto the sand. With each second, the skin grew weaker, drying up enough for her to painlessly cut it off her legs. Tossing the now dried, flaky skin beside her, she looked at her new, bloody legs. They were raw, streaked with blood, and trembling slightly from the transformation.
── .✦ a spell gone wrong binds you to tom riddle ... you have fun torturing the torturer ⭑.ᐟ
・❥・one
tom wasn't sure how much longer he could take before killing you.
he never had time for sex, the slight curiosity of it waning after a handful of wanks, and he moved on to pursue important stuff, world domination and the likes of it. the thought of it felt human, mundane and it disgusted him the few times he touched himself.
you had taken a liking to torture him using your atrocious feelings, knowing he could feel the same as you did. tom riddle had never been so hard and horny as he did during potions!
it didn't help that his sleeping position on the floor after begrudgingly agreeing in front of the headmaster to appear a gentleman, was atrocious and did nothing to soothe his distress. his nights were spent getting unwillingly hard whilst he grits his teeth, listening to your breathing. tom had to remind himself every night that suffocating you with a pillow would end with him in azkaban. it did little to ease his loathing.
both of you had given up communicating with each other, expressing irritation and anger by scowls, eye rolls, and loud sighing. tom had gotten used—but not unaffected—to your perverted feelings, irately ignoring his penis when it twitched.
he had gotten so used to his hatred for you, he nearly forgot about his distaste for dumbledore. the deputy headmaster catching him off guard during transfiguration, surprised by the young man's less than perfect behavior. tom had tried, so hard for the past few weeks, to not show his disdain towards the situation and you in public, but there was only so much a man could mask.
"tom," dumbledore had asked him after class, with you waiting patiently outside. for the first time since he had visited him in the orphanage, the man hadn't looked at him as if he were a threat. "how is the arrangement holding up? any issues that need to be addressed?"
"no, sir." tom gritted his teeth, smiling a pinch too hard. "everything is alright ... well, as much as it can be. has there been any development towards a solution to fix this predicament?"
dumbledore had the decency to act disheartened, though tom knew better. the longer he was attached to you, the less dumbledore had to worry about his schemes. "i'm afraid not. not to worry, the headmaster and i are looking at other sources. i give you my word we'll find a way."
tom nodded, leaving the room feeling nothing but vexation.
"i think we should kill longbottom," you said casually one night, your voice slightly echoing in the dark room.
he froze, weighting your words. was it a test? to see if he was the monster you suspected he was? perhaps an order from dumbledore to weed him out? but he felt no deception, no genuineness, but no deception.
"are you making a joke?" tom asked, sitting up from his makeshift bed on the floor.
you arched a brow, staring down at him. "am i not allowed to?"
tom kept his eyes on you, only laying back down when you turned your back to him. he took the olive branch, mentally tired from the psychological—-and physical—torture.
"i know this spot in the dark forest." offered tom, the corner of his lips quirking up at the thought of feeding the idiot to the wolves.
"of course you do," you scoffed, and tom felt unexplainably pained. "how uncreative."
he scowled, the olive branch felt hollow, as if disguised as fireplace poker to incinerate him. "what do you suggest, then?"
by the morning, tom had gotten no sleep, and laid on his lap was a list of ways to rid of elias longbottom. ways a lot more innovative than his idea. he wondered if he was going mad at the thought of inviting you to his group of knights.
another week passes, fallen snow sticks on the ground, and christmas decorations are thrown around the castle. tom continues to read, trying to calculate how to severe the magical bond without killing himself in the process; he'd be more than delighted if you died. a bonus.
slughorn had asked for volunteers for a new project he was supervising, and ever the perfect student, tom had offered himself as a participant. you had snickered beside him as slughorn revealed it was to decorate the great hall christmas tree during hogsmeade weekend. your laughter came to an end when you realized tom had indirectly volunteered you.
his genuine smile was a lot scarier than his evil smirk, you thought. but more handsome.
tom stared at the towering pine in front of you both, decked in exactly two ornaments so far, one placed by you, one placed by him, and both of you had glared at each other the entire time.
you found it easy to get into christmas spirit, twirling the tinsels around the tree whilst christmas music blared in the great hall. the castle was empty of students, and slughorn had shown up to gloat about his star students working together, babble about his legendary parties, and dip before the elves had dragged the christmas tree in.
"that's hideous." tom scoffed, studying the golden tinsels puked on the evergreen tree. "it's as if you allowed a pack of cornish pixies to have an orgy on it."
after a month of your era inappropriate, foul language, tom had taken to using your own words against you. he no longer had qualms about a woman speaking so abrasively.
you hold up an ornament, a fake silvery icicle. "here. this should replace the stick up your ass."
with narrowed eyes, tom snatched the ornament from your hand, hanging it up on the tree. his decoration box was filled with silver and green, suspiciously slytherin.
"why is everything in your box monochrome? does the concept of color and festivity offend your bland taste?" you arch a brow, carelessly throwing red tinsels onto your part of the tree.
"your lack of color coordination offends me deeply," he replied, glaring at the messy gold tinsels tangled with red ornaments. "it's disgustingly gryffindor."
you glare back at the slytherin, watching him carefully hang a snake ornament on the tree. "red and gold are christmas colors, you cunt."
tom takes a physical step back, eyes widening slightly at your words. he hates how you can surprise him so easily, he hates it even more that he found amusement, albeit shock, with how you express your emotions.
christmas music continues to swell as you both glared at one another. tom reaches for the gold tinsel wrapped around the tree and rips it off, golden tinsels floating in the air and landing on your hair.
with a scoff, you grabbed a red ornament from your box and threw it at his chest. it bounced off his robes and rolled down to his feet. tom's brows furrowed, his hand snaking into his own box.
tom lifted one silver ornament, one of those ridiculous, delicate, blown‑glass serpents he'd procured specially for this project, and held it between two fingers like a weapon.
you raised your chin. "don't you dare."
he dared.
the ornament arced through the air, glittering ominously, and thunked harmlessly into the tree beside you. you blinked. tom blinked. he had clearly meant to hit you, but would rather die than admit his aim had betrayed him.
you laugh, leaning against the tree for support whilst tom raged in front of you. "your aim is so ass."
"can you not!" he seethed, fighting the urge to stomp his foot like a petulant child. "use such repugnant language? you are a harlot!"
you gasped mockingly, pure glee pumping through your veins at the future dark lord throwing a tantrum at your choice of words. "as if you could afford me."
tom grits his teeth so hard he's positive you heard one of them chip. he turned back to the barren tree, three ornament hanging on and half a tinsel scattered across one side. "i will not let you turn this into a circus. this tree will be ... exemplary.”
you snorted. “riddle, the only exemplary thing here is your reality‑defying belief that you’re good at this.”
he ignored you and drew his wand and flicked it at a box of silver ornaments; they obediently levitated into a perfect grid formation, each one precisely equidistant from the other.
you snorted. "you're arranging them by angle.”
“they must be symmetrical,” tom huffed, as though it was obvious. “otherwise it looks deranged.”
you grabbed a handful of red ornaments and chucked all seven at once toward your side of the tree. they thudded in, bounced, tangled, and one lodged itself squarely into the tinsel gordian knot you had created.
“fixed,” you declared.
tom inhaled sharply, a long, violent, suffering inhale. “why do you insist on being feral?”
“because you hate it,” you answered sweetly.
he did. he absolutely hated it. hated how your emotions punched through the bond and rattled around in him like loose change in a dryer.
he reached for one of his fragile glass serpents to hang it precisely at eye level, only to feel your eyes on him.
“why snakes?” you asked, leaning forward. “are you overcompensating for something?”
tom froze mid‑hang. “do you ever intend to stop speaking?”
“not when you react like that, no.”
he shoved the ornament onto the tree a bit too hard and nearly cracked it. the frustration flared in him, yours answering it, overlapping like two badly tuned strings. he hissed under his breath and stepped back, trying and failing to regain composure.
“you've mangled the entire left side,” he accused.
“you've sterilized the right side. it looks like a hospital ward.”
“this is a christmas tree, not—”
“an altar to your ego?”
tom's glare was cold enough to put frost on the ornaments. "i despise you and your entire wellbeing. i despise your bloodline for creating such a vile, rude, obnoxious, sinful, tantalizing, voluptuous monster."
both of you stop to think about his choice of words. you smirk as you realize he indirectly called you sexy. "you think i'm pretty?"
he glowers, but an undeniable shade of red flushes across his cheeks. "i think you're wicked and incredibly depraved—what are you doing?"
you made your way towards him, leaning close to him as he leans back. you grab an ornament from his box, shaking the hogwarts crest between your fingers. "just perusing your assortments."
tom feels your breasts against his chest, and he stumbles back against the table, unable to move away. "must you do so so close to me?"
you felt slight panic from him along with a shot of lust. heat pooled around your stomach at the thought of having sex on the slytherin table. you smile up at him, biting your lip. you wonder what it would be like to kiss his.
reaching further into the box, you pull out green tinsels and wrap it around the future dark lord's neck. you heard his breath catch as your nails grazed the side of his neck, and the tension quickly felt heavy.
to ease it, you leaned back an inch, tightening the tinsel around tom's neck. when he doesn't immediately rip it off, you can't help yourself. "it seems as if the bond has helped you enjoy choking as i do."
it's enough to break any man, and tom riddle was a horny one at that.
he smashes his lips against yours, bending his neck to capture your lips. it's clumsy and overwhelming for someone who's whole facade is being perfect, though he can't be faulted for never having kissed anyone.
it catches you off guard, your lips still against his frantic ones as you try to make sense of the situation. you vanish your thoughts as you guide him into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his tinsel-covered neck.
his lips are surprisingly soft against yours, and you slow down the rhythm, moaning into the kiss as you push him to sit down on the table. without breaking the kiss, you climbed onto his lap, his hands immediately gripping your waist.
you grin smugly as tom riddle whimpered against your lips.
one of the most unintentionally funny moments of criminal minds is when jj says garcia didn't want them to talk to her as if she was a victim and the next scene is hotch saying "so, victomology. why garcia?"
── .✦ a spell gone wrong binds you to tom riddle, forcing you both to stay within ten feet of another ⭑.ᐟ
・❥・two
you were going to murder elias longbottom.
being stuck in 1943 with no way to get back was harsh enough, but to get bonded to tom riddle was the cherry on top of a bad month. all because longbottom couldn’t control his wand, nor understand the spell he casted.
seething with rage, you lunged at the wide-eyed student, only to be caught by the waist by a much younger—but still as irritating—dumbledore. betrayal flashed in your eyes and he directed you sit down on the chair, practically pushing you down on it.
he sighs your name, giving you a look. “it was an accident, dear. i’m sure someone knows the counter spell, and soon enough you two will be free of this accident. for now, let’s take a breath and try not to attack poor, mister longbottom?”
you seethed, barely acknowledging the man beside you, feeling both his amusement and his hidden anger. not only had the curse bonded you physically together, but emotionally as well. you’d had been more than glad to blame your homicidal tendencies directed toward’s neville’s great uncle on riddle, but even you knew your temper was as short as your patience.
“you idiot!” you opted to scream at the shameful boy, standing from the chair. instead of lunging for him again, you paced around the room, though not far from riddle.
elias tried to apologize again as dumbledore sighed. you throw a silencing spell on longbottom, stomping out of headmaster dippet’s office with tom riddle right on your heel. unwilling.
“will you please not do that?” he hissed, his legs reluctantly pulling him towards you. “or at least tell me when you move. if you don’t remember—“
you turned to glare at him, stopping in your tracks. “i remember, you ogre! i’m stuck with your whiny, huffy a—self until they find a counter spell. how could i forget?”
riddle’s jaw clenched, amusement no longer lingering. he hadn’t taken kindly to the news and even while he pretended to be understanding when the headmaster had told them, you felt his anger, his annoyance. “i don’t want to be stuck with you just as much as you don’t want to be with me. i’m trying to make sure you’re not gonna drag me around like i’m some kind of dog—“
you turn on your heels, practically sprinting down the corridor, half hoping if you ran fast enough, the spell would break, and half amused that the future dark wizard had unexpectedly yelped at the bond dragging him back towards you.
when you stop just before the great hall doors, you turn around, a smirk dancing on your lips as you witnessed riddle stand up, his fingers twitching for the wand in his robes, brushing the fabric.
he glared at you, hostility rolling off of him. “can you not do that?”
“i will if you stop being a little bitch.” you spat back at him, somewhat regretting your words when you felt his shock, scandalizing the teenage dark lord.
i guess calling a man a bitch in this time period isn’t the norm, you thought, amusement in your eyes as you watch him huff, brushing off the dust on his robes and ego.
“i loathe you.” he fumed, his ears reddening.
you felt his anger, and while the thought of his future self scared you, you couldn’t help but laugh in his face. tom riddle looked like a toddler throwing a tantrum, red ears and standing as if he was ready to stomp on the ground.
fury filled him as he watches you laugh in his face, his hand gripping his wand as if to remind himself he couldn’t kill you outside of the great hall. instead, he walks quickly down the hall, pulling you with him.
you immediately stop, standing up as soon as you could. you glare at him, his mirth dancing back as you mirrored his earlier actions.
“i loathe you.” you fumed back, eyes narrowing.
“i loathe you more.” he takes a step forward, only stopping when his nose touches yours, his lips curled into a snarl.
you reach forward and punch him, right on the jaw.
his groan and yours harmonize as he clutches his jaw, stumbling back and you, cradling your hand from the impact. riddle stared at you in disbelief, eyes wide from the audacity.
later, you had accompanied him to the infirmary. you had broken riddle’s jaw and had the satisfaction of witnessing him bite his tongue as madam ashworth made him drink skele-gro.
the next week was filled with screaming matches and uncomfortable silence when studying was needed. a private room was handed to you both by the headmaster, a temporary solution and a gift, a bribe to stop cursing at each other during meal times and class.
riddle complained about how long you took in the bathroom, nose flaring when you made fun of him for not showering every day, calling him stinky. you whined when he intentionally stayed behind class to flatter professor slughorn. you couldn’t believe someone educated could fall for his load of shit.
the only moment of silence came from sleep and the rare times in the library where work would get done without hostility between you both. it was tense, sitting right beside future wizard hitler, and it took you multiple nights to actually rest.
two beds had been provided, but you made him sleep on the floor. and like the perfect 1940s gentleman he portrayed himself to be, he begrudgingly agreed.
as you sat in potions, you glanced beside you at your partner. his face was too pretty, it irritated you that his beauty was used for evil. evil, evil, evil.
an intrusive thought emerged in your mind and rather than grimacing at the thought, you tap your quill against your lips, focusing. if you could feel the other was feeling, amusement, anger, homicidal urges, surely it meant everything.
pursing your lips, you conjured up an image in your mind. sweaty, whimpering riddle laid beneath you, his hips bucking up as you slowly sat on his face. his tongue reached up, tasting your dripping pussy before you could properly sit down.
you squirm slightly in your chair, feeling the familiar sensation between your legs. out of the corner of your eye, you saw riddle clench his jaw, his grip on his quill tightening. you could feel his frustration.
grinning, you began to imagine the noises he’d make as you rode his tongue, grinding your pussy against his eager mouth. he would reach up to hold you down as you came all over his face, his tongue lapping at your clit as you soaked his face.
tom cleared his throat softly beside you, scribbling down hard on his paper and pushing it towards you.
what the fuck are you doing?
you held back a giggle. oh, this was going to be fun.
── .✦ tom riddle crashing out in his dorm after finding out his crush didn’t use amortentia on him ⭑.ᐟ
abraxas malfoy was beyond perplexed as he watched his dark lord lay face down on the dorm floor, groaning continuously into the cold marble. for a previously composed, moody, and intelligent heir of slytherin, tom riddle was … difficult for the past two months. ever since she arrived.
he hadn’t blamed his lord when he wanted to get to know the girl, after all she was breathtakingly beautiful, a pureblood, and had appeared whilst in the middle of ancient runes fighting a cloaked man, killing him with a spell unknown to any wizard. of course, tom riddle would want to know her after hearing dumbledore beg the headmaster to allow her to continue her studies at hogwarts.
no, abraxas knew that was what his dark lord would want need to do. anyone who’s whole future was to become powerful and immortal would be clawing at the opportunity to get to know a mysterious, devastatingly beautiful, kissed by the gods, woman.
what he didn’t understand was how far riddle had taken his “research” on the girl. how he had went from walking her to her door—“i’m a prefect, malfoy, it makes sense and courteous of me to do so.”—to accompanying her on picnics with gryffindors. gryffindors for god’s sake! from pairing up with her for projects—“i’m keeping an eye on her, see what she knows.”—to sneaking out to watch the stars at the astronomy tower with her.
rosier had once made a pass at her, and when she had flirted back, riddle had called the knights for a meeting where he crucio’d rosier until the sun had came up. the rest had to clean up the blood pooling around their fellow friend.
his lord had came to them, yelling as he clutched at his chest. “she poisoned me! she must’ve drugged my tea with amortentia when i was not looking!”
everyone exchanged glances, malfoy suffering from constant whiplashes with his master’s mood swings.
“my lord, she’s smart, but i don’t think she would have the—“ nott started, shutting up as soon as riddle had focused his anger at him.
avery jumped in, not wanting to spend another day cleaning up blood like muggles. “surely she couldn’t have used amortentia without you noticing, my lord. you don’t miss such things!”
the group nodded, half terrified, half anxious.
“she’d had to!” riddle had yelled, pacing around the dorm. “i feel—these revolting emotions surface when she comes around, she plagues my mind, and even my body, my body, reacts to the scent of her perfume!”
the knights had taken turns being crucio’d that night.
abraxas knew his master had been investigating the girl, so he had been more than aghast to find his lord groaning on the floor. for half a second, he wondered if the girl had done something to him, but quickly dismissed it when he saw riddle’s wand in his hand.
he stepped slowly into the room, clearing his throat. “my lord? … are you alright? have you been harmed?”
tom stopped groaning, though stayed face down on the floor as the other knights came into the door, dumbfounded by the sight.
“ ˢʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ’ᵗ ᵘˢᵉ ᵃᵐᵒʳᵗᵉⁿᵗⁱᵃ “ riddle mumbled into the marble floor, body limp and unmoving.
rosier tilted his head, brows furrowing. “my lord, what did you say? nott could not hear.”
nott threw him a glare before turning back to their master, concerned and frightened.
abraxas watched as his lord stood, taking a deep breath, casting a silencing charm before screaming into the room. it was raw and fervent, as if he was letting out years of pain into it. everyone flinched, waiting for a crucio to be casted, whether on them or the other.
the knights had reached new fears when their master waved away the silencing charm and laid back down on the floor, staring at the ceiling.
“she didn’t use amortentia.” riddle repeated, closing his eyes briefly. “i watched her for days, every movement, my eyes never left her. i’ve looked at her wand, looking for an intimacy spell but found none. i’ve searched her belongings, nothing came to fruition other than her love for pearls.”
everyone stayed silent, lestrange on the verge of cracking a smirk as he watched his feared lord have a crisis over a girl.
tom riddle didn’t have to say the words out loud for everyone to understand. they all witnessed as their lord stood back up, took an usually long shower, and exited the dorm without another word.
meetings became less and less until they longer happened. abraxas observed as riddle spent more and more time with the girl, knowing the look in his eyes as he’d seen in many couples before. he studied how his master had spent the next years courting her, witnessed when riddle had asked for her love in the astronomy tower.
abraxas and the rest attended their wedding, surveying how their master pledge his allegiance and love to her.
riddle had disbanded their group when they graduated, and though the knights had been disappointed, abraxas couldn’t find it in himself to feel dismayed when she and tom asked him to be the godfather to their daughter.
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