Tom Riddle - Blog Posts

trying to find these fics again

So, I know that both of them are on ao3, but I can’t find them anywhere

1- James is the man who lived, and he’s still Harry’s father; he married again and I believe he has other children, he sends Harry to live with the Dursleys after he is sorted into Slytherin. Harry is captured by Voldemort, and already accepted his fate, but Voldemort ends not killing him and accepting him into his side. Harry meets James again under the belief that Voldemort is giving his body back.

Not sure if it’s a Harry/Voldemort fic

2- Harry is captured and kept in a glass coffin in a very cold place after, I believe, Voldemort finds out that he’s a horcrux. Voldemort visits him through his dreams until Harry pisses him off, and then Harry is kept there awake without being able to sleep and totally motionless. Harry is able to possess Trelawney and say some stuff to try and help himself. Snape ends up saving him and they fake their death with a fiendfyre just in time Voldemort arrives at the scene

Harry/Voldemort fic

Requests

I am now officially taking requests for the following characters/ships and am not opposed to dark proposals. I do NOT write smut.

HARRY POTTER

Tom Riddle

Draco Malfoy

Tomione

MARVEL

Steve Rogers

Loki

WWE

Seth Rollins

Roman Reigns

Finn Bálor

Randy Orton

“The Fiend” Bray Wyatt

VAMPIRE DIARIES/THE ORIGINALS/LEGACIES

Niklaus “Klaus” Mikaelson

PEAKY BLINDERS

Thomas “Tommy” Shelby

Arthur Shelby

GOTHAM

Jim Gordon

REVENGE (ABC)

Daniel Grayson

Desecration

Tom Riddle x F!Reader

18+ MDNI

HEAVY TRIGGER WARNING

Tags: p in v, loss of virginity, creampie, non-con, use of Imperio, necrophilia, murder of reader, bloodlust, dead dove do not eat

just a note before reading, please please please dont read this if youre squeamish at all, its pretty violent so yeah. but if youre into this kinda thing, please enjoy(?) and let me know if i should write more unhinged shit like this. it was a whim i got at 4am like "what if tom fucked a corpse" dont hate me im just a slave to inspiration

Word Count: 2.1k

The fresh, warm tea slid down your throat, warming your very soul on such a cold winter day. It tasted of ginger and cloves, and the heat and spice of it seemed to radiate throughout your body to fuel your evening of reading. Ever since Hogwarts, your interest in the dark arts has only grown, leading you to purchase several tomes and textbooks on the subject. The old parchment of the page made a crackling sound as you turned it, as did the fire that burned brightly in the hearth nearby. 

You were combing through the ancient spells and their effects, sipping your hot, spiced tea as you read, when your mind strangely started drifting elsewhere. The image of your room and the book in front of you seemed to grow cloudy and twisted into a very different image. The cozy, warmly lit room contorted into one much bigger, and darker as well. It was a bedroom, well decorated and lavish, clearly belonging to someone decently wealthy. Black floorboards and wall paneling, and rich emerald drapes and wallpaper to match it, not very unlike the Slytherin dormitories back at Hogwarts. The hearth stood out starkly, a green flame within to shroud the room in a certain cold hue that left you feeling slightly uneasy. A floo flame, but for what purpose?

Your eyes fell towards the bed, where two figures appeared to be engaging in something…intimate. Still mostly clothed, their lips were locked tightly, hands roaming wherever they pleased, and it seemed that they were the source of the only heat in the cold, eerie room. Upon closer inspection of the couple, you recognized yourself, a perfect mirror copy. And as your eyes darted to the man whose hand was currently gripping your waist, you quickly recognized who it was.

It was Tom Riddle, whom you fancied for quite a time during your school years together. The curly black hair, the pale skin, the handsome features; there was no mistaking it was him. But why was he suddenly in your fantasies again after years, and why did this feel so real? The two of you continued your throes of passion before Tom turned his head away from your lips (or rather, your copy's lips) to look straight into your eyes with his piercing gaze. Your copy did not seem to notice as he spoke firmly:

"The Riddle Manor, in Little Hangleton. Take the floo, and don't tarry. I do not like being kept waiting."

Right after he said that, the vision began to swirl as it did when it came about, and after a time, your room came back into view. The warm hearth, the spiced tea, the dark arts book. Home. But all of it was also accompanied by a dull headache and slight nauseous feeling. You slugged back the rest of the tea, which settled the sick feeling, before setting the book down on the table beside your chair. Something strange was happening, yet you felt compelled to comply with imaginary Tom's orders all the same. You strode over to the fireplace, grabbed a pinch of floo powder, and tossed it into the fire, watching the bright orange flame turn a sickly green hue. As you stepped in, you wondered if this was all a big mistake, that maybe you would intrude on some poor family's evening. But all the same, the words came out of your mouth:

"Riddle Manor."

Instantly, you were transported to the bedroom from your daydream, feeling much better now that you didn't see any strangers or hear any shrieking at your appearance in the fireplace. However, that relief was quickly diminished as your eyes landed on Tom Riddle, standing by the bed, in the same place where he had been entangling with you in your dream. No, his presence here proved that that was no mere daydream. It was a vision. It finally clicked: Tom had planted that in your head by means of legilimency. But why?

He strode towards you, his gaze and demeanor making you feel cornered even though you were in the open middle of the room. But before you could fully process what was happening and mull over your questions, his hand firmly gripped your shoulder, his long bony fingers digging into the flesh. He was different than he had been at Hogwarts. Sure, he still carried himself well and was still handsome, but his eyes and cheeks were sunken further into his face, and he was a little more twitchy now, looking as though he had been in a room full of dementors for weeks. The eyes that once held a perpetual air of cool composure now burned with something far more sinister. Tom seemed more raw now, a little more unhinged.

"Don't ask me why I brought you here, and don't ask me how I've been over the years. I am not interested in catching up. Just get on the bed." He commanded, his voice wavering slightly.

Your face twisted up into one of confusion, wanting some answers first. Not even a letter in years, no interaction or correspondence whatsoever, and now he brings you here simply to have sex with you? Absolutely not. Sure, you had fancied him, but you still had self-respect enough to stand your ground.

"Tom, wait, why did-"

A frustrated groan emanated from his throat, promptly cutting you off. He sounded and looked manic; clearly something had happened just before he summoned you here. But before you could inquire about anything, Tom pulled out his wand and pointed it at you, and muttered out an incantation that neither you nor anyone else ever wanted to hear.

"Imperio."

Suddenly, your mind was cleared of all inhibitions and inquiries, and you felt as if you were floating. His wand remained pointing toward you, but you could not care less in that instant. In your world, there were no cares at all. Tom's voice reverberated throughout the silent room as he commanded once more:

"Get on the bed."

And so you did, laying down on the plush emerald blankets, hands at your sides and obediently awaiting his next command. Tom took no time in hovering over you, pinning you in place and hiking up your skirt, not even bothering to fully strip you. Curiously, he noticed that you were wet between your thighs. Not overly so, but enough for him to know that you were somewhat enjoying this. He contemplated a moment before deciding to lift the curse, putting his wand down on the nightstand close by. Yes…it would be much more fun to break you himself. 

Just as you were coming back into consciousness, you felt your underwear being harshly ripped away from your body and something hard being aligned with your core. Tom spit in his hand and stroked himself a couple of times before pushing the head in.

"Tom, wait-!"

Tom placed that same hand tightly over your mouth, feeling your lips moisten with the remaining saliva coating his palm.

"Quiet. If you resist, it will end badly for you. Just do as I say."

You nodded, and Tom started roughly pounding into you, painfully stretching you out and making it sting from the lack of proper lubrication. A tear fell down the side of your face from the unbearable pain, but also from the shame of knowing that you also secretly took pleasure in him using you like this. You wished he had taken more time with preparing you first, but that was simply a silly fantasy. Of course, you knew that Tom was never one to really consider the comfort of anyone but himself.

Soon enough though, the pain started to become pleasure as you fully took in what was happening. Tom hovered above you, relentlessly ramming his cock in and out of you, sweat forming on his face. Or had it always been there? Compared to the vision of heated passion he had shown you before, he was completely different in reality. There was no warmth, no desire, no savoring of stimulation, none of what she truly wanted. The only thing in Tom right now was a dull lust, and even then, it was brought about by stress, and not out of any longing for her personally. He was clearly strained and rather wired, but why? 

Tom was nearing closer and closer to his release, urged on even more so by the way your body slowly began opening up and accepting him into you. But it really wasn't you that had gotten him this riled up and raring to go. You were only an afterthought, someone he remembered from Hogwarts, and likely the most willing to come. No, Tom had been spurred on by the scene in the dining room just below the room they were in.

His father's side of the family, dead in their seats, their dinner and their bodies probably still a little warm.

The way their faces contorted with fear, the empty look in their eyes, permanently in the state of terror a mere moment before their deaths; all of it had been exhilarating to execute, quite literally. Tom's bony fingers dug into your hip as his left hand held you steady, while his right remained over your mouth, muffling the moans that simply begged to be released from your lips into the frigid air of the room. However, instead of relishing in the sounds of your pleasure, he only became annoyed. He didn't care to perceive your shameful and sickening display of lust, and as you both grew closer to your releases, you grew louder, and he only grew more aggravated until he finally snapped.

"Quiet, I said!"

He released his hand from your mouth, only to wrap it around the handle of his wand, and he pointed it at you once more. You were so cock-drunk at this point, that you didn't even hear the incantation fall from his lips before seeing a flash of green light blind your vision.

And then, nothing.

Your body was completely limp now, and your face carried the same expression as the occupants of the dining table downstairs. The sheer terror, the microsecond where you realize you're going to die, the horror of it all. Tom, however, just soaked this in, not even wanting to pull out. In actuality, his pace only increased, the gruesome nature of the act only fueling the fire within him further. Only now, after you were completely unable to perceive anything anymore, did he indulge in what you had really wanted. His hands ripped open your shirt so he could take a look at you completely exposed, for only him to see. The hand that was previously pressed over your mouth now kneaded at the mounds of flesh, relishing in the softness of them. His teeth sunk harshly into the flesh of your throat, feeling the skin break and the taste of copper flowing over his tongue. With one more incantation, Tom pointed his wand at your chest to truly complete his work of art.

"Diffindo."

The flesh of your chest was cut deeply in three strokes, as if you had been ravaged by a rabid animal. And, in a way, you had been. Tom licked his lips before dragging his tongue over the bleeding cuts, savoring the thick, metallic tasting fluid in his mouth before letting it go down his throat. 

Tom had never felt more powerful than in this moment. And upon realizing that, his cock twitched and the dam within him broke, spilling his seed within your slack cunt, furthering the humiliation and desecration of your lifeless body. He liked you better this way, without thoughts or wants or autonomy. Simply a tool, a doll he could use for his own satisfaction whenever he wanted. But sadly, you would decompose, and all his fun would end once you got too cold. But for now, he pulled out and fixed himself back up, as if nothing had just happened. 

~~*~~

Your dead body remained on the bed for a couple of days, cold and pale from the lack of circulating blood. Tom knew that this would be his last time with you before it became unsafe for him to keep you around. He tucked himself back into his trousers, watching the last couple of days worth of his seed leak out of your cold, dead cunt. The scene was sick and disgusting, truly, but Tom found a bizarre beauty in it. The juxtaposition of the seed of life being planted into something cold and dead that could never grow it filled him with a sense of disturbing satisfaction that he just loved the rush from. 

However, the body would start breaking down soon, and he needed to get rid of it. After a few moments of contemplation, he had decided to transfigure your body into something small and simple: a teacup. A teacup which, when drinking from it, would remind him of most likely the best day he had ever had. He had taken revenge on his filthy muggle relatives, and had his first go with a woman all in one night.

What's not to love?

Uprising

Tom Riddle x F!Reader

================

MINORS DNI 🔞

hi this is my first time writing for tumblr, and im starting off with a whopper. i dont know what all the trigger warnings are supposed to be but i tried my best to be accomodating. also my ass did NOT research but hopefully my memory should suffice and i did my best to keep characters and stuff accurate or at least adjacent. im on mobile btw so im sorry if any formatting is weird but yeah, this one is uh...pretty dark so yeah, hope you enjoy :)

TW: smut, oral (m receiving), master/slave dynamic, bloodlust, bodily harm, very very kinky Tom

PROMPT: This takes place in the infancy of his rise to becoming the Dark Lord. Y/N has been the only one to manage to get somewhat close to Tom, being his first real devoted follower, but does he really love her or is she simply a tool for power and pleasure?

Word count: 1.8k

The stone floor was cold and dry, just like the rest of the manor that had been the base of operations for Tom Riddle, or as his followers know him, Lord Voldemort. The only warmth in the room came from the hearth, which bathed the room in an eerie, orange glow. The light of a fireplace would usually be calming and comforting; yet when juxtaposed with the topic being discussed with the Dark Lord and a table full of his followers, it was as if it filled the room with an ironic coldness.

The table that stood starkly in the middle of the room sat only around ten people. Some belonged to the Black and Malfoy families, as they had the power, wealth, and influence to help spread the message of their uprising. The rest, however, were friends that Tom had made during his time at Hogwarts. He had promised them glory and power should they choose to side with him. And he had the power of the Blacks and Malfoys at his side, so why would they ever question him?

"Remember what we have discussed today, and we shall put our plan into action. This will take much care and caution to execute, lest we wish to be exposed and our movement snuffed out. You may go, and I will call upon you again when need be."

The voice of the Dark Lord reverberated throughout the room, cold and authoritative. With every word that came from his lips, it felt to his followers that he was speaking snakes into existence, coiling around their throats and threatening to squeeze if they so much as spoke a word out of turn. Tom Riddle was a handsome man, with curly, jet black hair that he made sure was always neatly maintained. His brown eyes always seemed to see right through people as if they were ghosts (and depending on who he's looking at, they soon would be). The way he carried himself and strode about the halls with his head high simply screamed that he was entirely fit to be a Dark Lord. The very perception of him was perfect, like someone you would see in a painted portrait hanging in the hall of a lavish castle.

But of course, those thoughts stayed in Y/N's mind as the occupants of the table stood and made their way to the hearth to take the floo network back to wherever they needed to be. The floo flame now bathed the room in a green hue as the Death Eaters made their exit, while the Dark Lord remained seated at the head of the table with his most faithful servant at his side.

On her knees, at his side, as he preferred. Y/N was his queen, yes, but he also still saw her as his inferior. This was commonplace at these meetings; Y/N on her knees at his side as the Dark Lord gave his orders, her head and arms draped across his lap, and a collar around her throat. The leash, of which, he kept a firm hold of. It was all a display of power and of status, complete ownership of another living soul. She had been the first one to bear the Dark Mark on her forearm, and with that, comes special treatment. Y/N was permitted the place as his right hand, able to give orders so long that they do not undermine his own. She was also given the privilege of warming his bed and knowing just enough of his plans and secrets to make her feel special and more complicit in his plots. Little pieces, crumbs of information to make her feel like she was his most trusted confidant.

As the last of the Death Eaters disappeared into the emerald flames, the Dark Lord pulled Y/N to her feet by the leash he always kept a tight hold on. Now that they were alone, he was free to slip on his other mask: the mask of the lover. Now, he was simply Tom.

"Come now, my dear, let us retreat to my chambers for the night. You look exhausted, and I don't say I blame you. Listening to that lot blabbering on about their imbecilic ideas exhausts me as well, at times."

"Of course, my Lord."

Y/N knew exactly what he was implying, as it had become a nightly occurrence. Tom would want to be pleasured by her and, to his credit, he would pay the favor back in kind. He opened the door to his chambers, which were always kept spotless and neat. The emerald blankets that adorned his bed were crisply tucked in and smooth, and there was scarcely a drop of wax on the nightstands on either side from the lit candlesticks. But Tom took a seat on the side of the bed regardless, though Y/N swore she saw his eye twitch as he saw the sheets crease underneath the weight of him. He gave a sharp tug of the leash, pulling her closer to him, and almost making her stumble.

"Kneel."

He did not have to tell her twice. She had learned the heard way that it was unwise to make him tell her twice. Y/N dropped to her knees in front of him, patiently awaiting orders. This was what life was like for her now, and she was perfectly happy with it. When it came down to it, she was still Tom's queen, and truly the one that he respected most. The thought gave her warmth as he thoroughly debased and degraded her every night after the business of the day had been dealt with. All of his frustrations, his tension, his stress, it all went into her. His queen, his pet, his slave.

"You know what to do."

Tom said flatly, in the sardonic and authoritative tone that always coated his words. And as Tom ordered, Y/N did. Her hands moved to unbutton and unzip his trousers, pulling the fabric of that and his undergarments down only enough to free his member, which stood proudly at attention just as the rest of him did every day. That was the only degree to which Y/N was allowed to undress him; Tom had always preferred to do any undressing himself, if he even did at all. But something about witnessing how eagerly and desperately his queen wished to free his cock from its cloth prison aroused him, so he had kindly allowed her that privilege.

Y/N's tongue ran up the underside of his length and swirled around his tip before her lips wrapped around it and moved back and forth. Tom was an impatient man, and did not like to be teased or kept waiting. Soon enough, his hand was tangled in her hair, almost as if he was petting her, before grabbing a tight fistful of it and forcing himself further down her throat. This meeting had been particularly grating, and he needed a release now. He moved the head of his lover back and forth on his cock, reveling in the feeling of her hot, slimy throat clenching around him. Y/N would never get a single moan out of Tom; only heavy and labored breaths, if she was lucky.

Soon, he felt he was on the edge of his release, and his hips bucked a little to fuck the throat of his queen. His queen, no one else's. Y/N was his property, his object, and no one would be able to take her from him. Tom let out a long sigh as he spilled his seed down Y/N's throat, which he had sheathed himself fully into, and with her dutifully swallowing every drop. After it was finished, Tom released his hold on her hair and allowed her to pull back and breathe for a moment.

"Tonight is going to be a little different, my pet. Strip completely and lay down on the bed."

"Yes, my lord. How will tonight be different, though?"

"Do not question me, you shall see soon enough."

Tom commanded coldly, though his voice was laced with a sadistic hunger. Y/N conceded to her Lord and master with a nod, making quick work of her clothes as she let them stay in a pile on the floor. Tom pulled her by her leash to the bed, where she laid comfortably on her back, hands at her sides.

"Now, we are going to try something a little different. It will only bring you pain, no pleasure, so be forewarned. The only pleasure now will be had by me. I must please ask you not to squirm or scream, or else it will end badly for you. Understood, my pet?"

Y/N nodded as he tucked himself back into his trousers and made himself proper again. Tom was now completely dressed, and had stated that Y/N would be receiving no pleasure, so what did he plan to do? Every question running through her head was soon answered as he pulled a dagger from the drawer of his bedside cabinet, studying it carefully. His eyes, which still were even sharper than the dagger he held in his bony hand, darted to the chest of his lover, eyeing the flesh hungrily.

Leaning down, his eyes never leaving the spot above her right breast he had fixated on, he slowly dragged the blade across the soft skin, down her chest, leaving a trail of red in its wake. Y/N hissed in pain, but did not dare move out of position. The blade stopped in the middle of her chest, below her breasts, before mirroring the mark he made on her right side to her left. On complete impulse, Tom laid the bloodied dagger on the nightstand and ran his tongue across the mark he just made. He did not cut deep enough to cause major injury, though it would definitely leave a scar, from the way it was weeping blood. The Dark Lord relished the metallic taste of her essence, letting it rest on his tongue, and letting it drip down his throat. The taboo and unnatural act he was performing was almost euphoric, and it made him feel powerful, as if he was a dementor sucking the very soul out of her body. When Tom was satisfied and Y/N's bleeding had ceased, he sat back up and gazed hungrily down at the chest of his queen, at the work he had done.

Now, Y/N was perfect to him.

Cut across her chest, was the letter V. V for the new name he had chosen for himself. A V to mark his property, a scarlet letter emblazoned upon her body so that she may never forget who she serves. And if ever she does forget, Tom would make absolute certain to remind her.

I’ve seen some people say that Remus deserved to get fired from his job because he put the students in danger when he forgot to take the Wolfsbane potion, which is sort of true.

However, I don’t think it’s a valid reason to fire him because when has Hogwarts ever given a flying fuck about student safety?

In Harry's 1rst year, he was forced to go to the Forbidden Forest AT NIGHT as a punishment for sneaking around at night. there was the Devil's Snare, Chewy, a chess board that nearly killed them, and the DADA Professor had Tom on the back of his head.

Then in 2nd year, Tom possessed Ginny, a Basilisk was going around petrifying students, and Lockhart was going to erase Harry and Ron’s memory and let Ginny die.

In 3rd year, there were dementors flying around the school 

Don’t even get me started on Quidditch, because that game is a safety hazard as a whole. I mean whose idea was it to invent iron bludgers to hit people, while they’re flying mid-air. And who thought it was okay to let children play that sport?!

And let’s not forget that Tom literally killed a student and he still wasn’t expelled.

I don’t think I need to explain anymore…

Everyone thinks I chose computer science and became an engineer because I'm a genius.. nobody suspects that I actually chose it so I could spend more time reading cool weird things on the internet