Tom Riddle hated everything about you. Especially your astounding stupidity that seemed to have no bounds. He was staring at you while trying to study at the library where a few tables seated with students separated you from him. He should've been studying, he had a lot of assignments to work ahead on, but instead, here were you, for no other reason but do distract him. Tom had no idea why you even came, it's not like you were going to learn anything. You were the weakling in your year, and he had no idea how you managed to pass all the classes enough to get to Seventh Year. Whenever professors asked you a question in class, you only blinked at them in confusion, and instead of answering you chewed on that ridiculous bubble gum that was always in your mouth. Tom had never tasted it and he had no intention to indulge in muggle things like that, not only because it reminded him of you, but because wanted to separate himself from mudbloods like you as well as he could.
That's what you were — a mudblood. That was enough of a reason to hate you. But of course, as everything with you, being a dumb mudblood was not the only sin of yours. He hated your hair, your clothes, your bubbly personality, your Hufflepuff house, that silly pink bubble gum always making you slur your words. Tom could swear you never did any of the schoolwork yourself, you had some smart friends who were always there to help you out. Why would anyone want to be your friend was also a mystery to him.
You were incredibly annoying. Even now, at the library where everyone was supposed to be working you were whispering something into your Hufflepuff best friend's ear, then laughing when he whispered something back. Your laugh was quiet and barely audible, but he was looking at you, and he knew you were laughing, he saw the way your breasts wiggled under your uniform shirt. He sneered at the sight, his eyes involuntarily lingering on the rest of your body, starting with those plump breasts that the buttons of your shirt seemed to barely hold up, moving to your scandalously short uniform skirt—Tom had no idea why none of the professors ever pointed out to you that dressing like a whore was inappropriate—ending with your light pink tights and hot pink high heels. The only thing you weren't that stupid about was the dress code — you knew it and still decided to break the rules every day. Wearing pink wasn't prohibited, as weren't high heels or that childish pink bow that held your hair away from your face, but it didn't go well with your Hufflepuff-yellow tie or scarf, and yet you didn't seem to care. You loved pink. You were a stupid little mudblood who wore pink and chewed bubble gum and made him crazy mad. He hated you for that too. He felt his jaw clench to the point of breaking when you leaned into the friend you came here with to whisper something in his ear too, and as you did, the first button of your shirt popped open.
Tom stood up, his chair scraping the ground. He gathered his books and scrolls in record speed. He passed your table as he found his way to the exit, and when you saw him, you beamed up at him as if you've never been happier to see anyone else. You were so unbearably nice to everyone, greeting and helping everyone out and thanking for every little thing someone did for you. It was only a matter of time before someone decided to exploit that mix of kind and dumb that you unfortunately were an embodiment of. Your lush body and skimpy fashion were of no help to your cause.
"Hi, Tom!" you cheered, eyes going wide, teeth grinding on that sodding bubble gum. Your exclamation was so loud that the four people at your table and a few behind you tried to shush you, but you didn't seem to realize you did something wrong — you probably didn't even know you were at the library, and that's how you got here.
Trying to gather himself when all he wished was to curse that foolish smile off your face, Tom answered calmly, "Hello." He couldn't show how much he hated you, he couldn't cause any suspicion, so he treated you just like everybody else — politely, indifferently.
Your smile widened even more—was that possible?—when he answered your greeting.
He was a lot of things, but indifferent when it came to you was not one of them.
The quidditch game was supposed to start in fifteen minutes, and you had lost your wand.
It was an accident, you didn't mean to lose it, you were walking to the quidditch stadium, crossing the bridge, when a small bowtruckle caught your attention. You stopped, ran to the side of the bridge, and beamed at the tiny green creature. It looked almost the same as the spring grass around it, but you were good at spotting the little things, at least that's what you thought about yourself, so when you saw this bowtruckle, you couldn't help but greet it, "Hey, little guy, what are you doing down there?"
You thought it might want to climb up, but it was too small, so you decided the best thing to do was to use your wand and pull it up. You took out your wand, pointed it at the bowtruckle… and your wand fell! You panicked, ran down the bridge to the spot where you saw your wand fall wand and started searching for it. But neither your wand nor the bowtruckle were anywhere to be seen…
None other than Tom Riddle found you on your knees on the grass, desperately trying to find your wand. You didn't hear him come, so when he said, "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at the game?" you gasped, flinching, and turned around to see him right behind you. His gaze was dark and focused on where you were kneeling. You smiled at him, as you always did, although this time a little nervously, turning your full body to him and pulling your pink skirt down that had ridden up in the search for your only tool for magic. "I lost my wand," you said.
He shook his head, as if it was hard to believe something like that could've happened to a wizard, although everyone who were your friends knew this wasn't unusual. You saw the corners of his lips lift into a crooked smile. "And how did you manage that, huh?" he asked.
You explained to him what had happened. Tom chuckled when you finished telling that story, and something dark in his voice, something you couldn't name and would never even dare to—something in that laughter made you shiver.
"It fell somewhere here…" you mumbled, patting the grass that was still damp from the morning dew.
Without a warning, Tom grabbed your forearm and pulled you to your feet, saying, "Accio wand," as your wand came flying to his hand from under the bridge you lost it on.
You sighed in relief, then giggled, reaching out for your wand in Tom's hand. "Oh, thank you… I lost it for good…"
But when you tried to take your wand, Tom pulled it away. Your frowned in confusion. He leaned into you, all the while keeping your wand at a distance you couldn't reach, and whispered, his dark eyes piercing through you, "And what will you give me in return for your wand?" he demanded.
You blinked. "Whatever you want…"
Something glinted in his eyes, the sharp edges of his face grew severe. Then he chuckled again. "A very dangerous suggestion, little one."
You frowned again, blinking a few times. "I'm not little," you said. "We're the same age."
Instead of answering, Tom put your wand in your unsteady hand and stepped away, as if only now composing himself. Whatever confusion you felt evaporated, and you joyfully smiled at him again. "Thanks!"
He looked your outfit up and down again now that you were standing at full height. In your own opinion, your pink outfit today was really nice – since it was the weekend, you could take more freedom in your fashion. Today you decided to wear a glittery crop top with straps and a short velvet mini skirt with very high heels, but you were short so even they didn't help your height case with Tom standing right next to you.
"You're going to wear that to the game?" he asked, cocking one eyebrow.
You grinned at him, "Yes!" turning around to show off all angles, even though you had a feeling he had already seen more than enough while you were on your knees. "Do you like it?"
A muscle twitched in his jaw. He didn't answer your question.
"You know that the stadium will be full of boys – both fans and players alike?" he asked.
You blinked. "Uhm, I guess so… There will be both boys and girls…" you trailed off.
"And you don't think your clothes are too provocative for that occasion?"
You frowned. "I think they're nice…"
He stared at you, then chuckled again. "Of course, I forgot who I was talking to. Yes, they're nice."
His admiration brightened your mood immediately, putting back the smile on your face. "Are you going to the game too?"
Tom once again ignored your question, his eyes never leaving your body and your face. But now he looked around as if searching for someone. "Why are you here all alone?" he asked. "Where are your friends? It's not safe for you to be walking around all by yourself, little one. Someone might… get the wrong idea."
You blinked, but decided to ignore the name he called you. He probably called every girl that, to be nice, the same way you smiled and helped everyone. This time he was the one who helped you.
"Oh, Hogwarts is the safest place in the world!" you said. "Nothing bad could happen to me here."
A strange smile adorned Tom's face. He seemed to be thinking something through.
"Oh, I got an idea!" you exclaimed. "We can go to the game together!"
As a real gentleman, Tom accompanied you to the game while you were trying to understand the meaning behind his strange words.
There was a party at the Slytherin common room, and your best friend dragged you there, not that you had any objections—you loved dressing up, and this was the perfect chance to do so. You opted out for a bubble pink colored dress with short sleeves, deep V shape neckline and flowy short skirt. Underneath you added baby pink tights with decorative bows on top. Your outfit wouldn't be finished without another pair of bows in your hair that held up two ponytails and glittery pointed pumps.
These pumps were very high heeled, and you kind of regretted putting them on because now you were sitting on a green velvet sofa next to a Slytherin boy who claimed to be your friend's friend and gave you a second drink of the night— and you knew you'd fall if you tried to stand up; whatever was in that first drink must've been strong because your head was already dizzy and everything around you seemed blurry.
"Hey, do you see my friend that I came here with?" you asked the Slytherin boy who had put his arm over your shoulders while you tried not to vomit. You were chewing your gum, and it made the dizzying feeling less intense. "I'm afraid he'll have to carry me back to the Hufflepuff common room… I don't think I can stand up…"
There were more guys sitting all around you and one more beside you on the sofa, and they all laughed. You giggled with them. It was funny how drunk you got so fast.
"I can take you to the common room," the Slytherin boy who gave you the drinks said.
You smiled. "Really? That would be great! I really don't want to bother my friend, he always has to carry me when I get too drunk…" you trailed off.
The boy leaned closer to you. You felt his breath on your lips. "Sure, love, but first, finish your drink."
You looked down at the cup in your hands. You didn't want to finish it, you were afraid to vomit all over the boy, but he was so nice to get you a second drink, you didn't want it to go to waste, so you started slowly sipping on it.
The Slytherin boy shifted in his seat, taking a vial of pink liquid out of his pocket. You eyed it as he inquired, "You know what this is, love?" You shook your head, which made you even more dizzy. "This is a potion that can make you feel really good." You frowned. "I can put it in your drink, and if you drink it, it'll make you feel as light as a feather. See? It's pink, love. You like, pink, don't you?" Your eyes lit up at the word pink. The potion was beautiful. It couldn't be poison, and it looked like it would taste delicious.
You chewed on your gum and nodded. The boys around you laughed. The boy that talked you into this opened the vial of the potion and poured its contents into your cup. He reached out his hand to your face then, his thumb brushing over your lower lip that had puckered out.
"Drink up, love. You'll feel so good, I promise."
You looked down at the drink that now turned a bit pink. You were ready to drink it because you wanted to feel very good, but before the edge of the cup touched your lips, someone grabbed your hand, forcing you to spill the drink on the carpet. That same someone pulled you up from the sofa. You smiled when you saw Tom's face. You were always happy to see him, but you were even happier that he was at the same party as you were.
"Hi, Tom!" you said.
He wasn't looking at you, though. He was gripping your forearm to the point of pain, but his darkened eyes were on the boy who gave you the drink.
"Are you fucking crazy, Avery?" Tom spat at the boy whose eyes had slightly widened, but he soon regained his composure.
"What'd you mean? It's all consensual. She wanted it," he said.
"You think you're so funny?" Tom said. "Will it still be funny if I tell the headmaster you tried to feed love potion to one of your classmates?"
You frowned, trying to blink away the film of blurriness that was distorting your vision. You had no idea what was going on.
The Slytherin boy sneered, cackling, "Fuck, man, have this stupid bitch all to yourself if you want to."
The other boys around laughed, echoing the first one.
Tom's grip on your arm tightened as he dragged through the sea of bodies, lights, and music, and up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. He let you go only when he opened the door to the bedroom with only one bed. He pushed you inside and closed the door behind. You looked around, taking in the dark gray and green interior. You confusedly remembered that Tom was a prefect. Prefects had separate rooms. This one must've been his.
"Hey, Tom, why did you bring me here—" you began.
When he turned to you, the anger was gone from his face; he chuckled darkly, shaking his head to himself.
"You're a real stupid bitch, do you know that?" he said. "Do you have even the slightest idea how fucking dumb you are?"
You flinched, hugging your shaky arms around yourself. There were marks of Tom's fingers on the forearm he grabbed.
"Why are you calling me that?" you whispered.
He stepped closer, towering over you. "Because you are. Do you know what those guys would've done to you after you took that potion?"
You swallowed, chewing on your gum. "The potion would've made me feel good."
He laughed again, just like those boys in the common room. "That was a love potion, you stupid girl. They would've raped you, gang fucked you on that very carpet and you would've liked it because you wouldn't know how to hate it!" he shouted through gritted teeth.
"No…" you said quietly, feeling tears prickle in your eyes.
"Yes, Y/N, they would've hurt you! And you're fucking crying because I saved you from them?" You shook your head, tears running down your cheeks as you stared at the ground. Tom grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him. "You're so fucking nice to everyone but not everyone is that nice, Y/N."
You sniffled. "He was nice to me…"
Tom laughed. "Because he wanted to fuck you."
Your eyes widened. "But—you're nice to me, Tom…"
He leaned in. You felt his hot breath ghost over your lips. "Maybe because I want to fuck your stupid brains out too."
He didn't give you enough time to think over his words as his lips crushed to yours. His tongue invaded your mouth as his hands roamed over your body. His tongue fished out the bubble gum out of your mouth, transferring it to his. His roaming hand grabbed your hair by one of the bow-tied ponytails as he ripped your face off himself. He looked down at you as you breathed heavily from his attack on your mouth. His half-lidded gaze focused on you as he chewed your gum once, twice, then spat it out on the floor beside you. He pulled your ponytail back, the burning pain in your scalp making you stumble back as he walked into you until you reached the edge of his bed and fell on top of it.
"You think those guys were laughing with you, Y/N? You think they liked your jokes? No, they were laughing at you, because you're so fucking stupid it's ridiculous."
You sobbed, more tears falling from your eyes, but he didn't stop.
"But they also wanted to wet their dicks in all your holes, to rip off these slutty clothes—"
He illustrated his words with actions when grabbed the top of your dress and ripped it in half, exposing your breasts and forcing a gasp out of you. Only the skirt was left in one piece. His eyes focused on your breasts as he twisted your nipples painfully, making you sob.
"Shh, don't cry, little one," he said quietly, even softly, as he fondled your breasts pushing you to lie down on the bed with his body on top of you. "Those guys would've taken you tonight one by one. But they don't deserve you to be nice to them. Only I do."
He took your torn dress off you in one swift move and now you were half-naked before him. Diverting his attention from your breasts, which made you feel the cold air of the room and shiver from it, Tom grabbed one of your ponytails while he unbuckled his belt and undid his trousers with the other.
Your eyes widened when he freed his cock. Your throat went dry at the sight of it, hard and pulsing, the head of it angry red, glistening with precum. Tom grinned at you, guiding the head of his cock to your lips and forcing your head forward. "Open that stupid mouth of yours," he commanded quietly.
You did as he said, you wanted to taste him after all. The moment your mouth open, he thrust the full length of his cock past your lips until it reached your throat, making you gag. He grabbed the other ponytail with his free hand and controlled the movements of your head on his cock, bobbing it up and down ruthlessly. More tears ran down your cheeks, and you didn't know if they were from the crying, from the pressure in your throat or the lack of air.
"Fuck, do you have any idea how many times I've wanted to stuff my cock in your mouth whenever something stupid came out of it? Just to shut you up, little one?" You didn't answer, only gagged as he rhythmically fucked your throat.
Tom was going to say something else but got too overwhelmed. A few more thrusts, and he finally pulled out of your throat. You gasped, trying to catch your breath, as the hands that still held your ponytail took out the bows out of it. Your hair fell free on your shoulders.
You swallowed when Tom pushed at your shoulders until you lay flat on your back.
"Tom, please—" you whispered.
"Shh," Tom silenced you, ripping off your tights. "Getting fucked by me is all that you're good for."
You were wearing only your bright pink knickers. When he was them, he stopped the animalistic tearing of your clothes. He touched your privates through the fabric of your knickers softly, even tenderly. Then he slid them off down your legs unhurriedly, hissing at the sight of your exposed pussy. Tom brushed his fingers over your folds, and his cold touch to your burning core made you whimper.
"Fucking pink…" he hissed through his teeth, gathering your arousal on his fingers. His eyes briefly found your face. You felt blush crawl up your flesh. "Do you have any idea how many times I fantasized of bending you over and stuffing your pussy with my cock? Making you scream my name?" He looked down at your core, fingers suddenly rubbing violent circles over your puckered clit and the sensitive flesh of nerves around it. You whimpered, flinching under him from the overwhelming stimulation.
He pulled back slightly and positioned his cock at your entrance and grabbed a fistful of your hair, stretching your upper body closer to him, putting you into an unnatural position.
"No, Tom, you're too big—" you cried.
He slapped your cheek, silencing you abruptly with unexpected violence. No one had ever hit you before. No one ever handled your body like this, no one ever caused you pain this way. Your cheek was burning.
"Quiet," Tom commanded, squeezing your cheeks together, inducing more painful tears.
He watched your expression. "You're gonna be a good little slut for me and take it, right?"
You sobbed. "Please—"
He slapped the other side of your face, and you went silent, choking on silent whimpers. "You want me to slap your face, is that how to shut you up?" he inquired, tugging at your hair painfully. "You'll feel good, little one. Eventually. I promise."
He thrust his cock inside of you in one go. His other hand held your left leg wide open while he rutted into you mercilessly. Your eyes fluttered shut as liquid heat coursed through your body.
"You're so fucking wet…" he gritted through his teeth. "Gripping me like vice…"
You whimpered when he pulled at your hair as he used your body any way he wanted. The pain and the pleasure mixed inside of you and made a concoction that forced your entire body to shudder. All you could do was close your eyes, let the tears run free and whimper when his cock reached that sensitive point deep in your womb.
That fog caused by all the overwhelming sensations was briefly interrupted by another chuckle coming from Tom. "That's what you needed, wasn't it, little slut? You needed me to fuck your stupid brains out, that's how to shut you up, huh?"
You didn't answer, only bit your lower lip. You were scared to speak in case he decided to slap your for it again. Your teeth nipped at your own lip from the movement of Tom's relentless fucking.
"Tom…" you whimpered.
He groaned at that.
You felt him let go of your hair, and when you opened your eyes, you saw and felt him lean into you until his body practically dipped you into the mattress. He grabbed your neck and began choking you. "Again. Say my name again," he demanded, speaking into your open mouth.
"Tom…. Tom… Tom…" you kept repeating even when it was hard to speak. You had to choose between saying his name and breathing air. You chose the first one.
The new angle made your eyes water as he picked up his pace.
"You look at me when I fuck you, Y/N," he groaned. Something deep inside you was uncurling, you felt it, and in that moment, you could've told him anything if only that meant he wouldn't stop what he was doing. You wanted to nod frantically but his grip on your throat was too harsh. Luckily, he got the message. "Good girl," he praised for the first time. "Taking my cock so well… No one else gets to fuck your pussy, understood? No one else gets to see you like this…"
"Yes, Tom, yes…" you mumbled.
He kissed you again, no, devoured you whole. His kiss was punishing. He bit your lips, your tongue, making you taste your own blood.
When he let you go, you whimpered. "I'm gonna… I'm gonna…"
"You're going to come, huh? Go on, come all over my cock, little one…"
When you were at the precipice of a climax, he slapped your face again, four times, on both cheeks. The blinding white pain unlocked whatever was hidden inside you. You came, screaming and thrashing under him as he fucked you through your orgasm with his jaw tense as he tried to keep himself at bay a few more seconds. His hips collided with yours even after you came, and soon you felt his hot seed spill inside of you. Tom's movements slowed and he kissed your forehead, pulling his cock out of you but still holding you down by your throat.
"You're mine now, Y/N," he claimed. "I'm going to fuck you in my bed every single night. And every single morning you'll go from class to class with my come spilling out of you. And if I see you talking to any other guys, even if it's that Hufflepuff best friend of yours, I'll fucking kill them, is that clear?"
A lot of things were hard for you to understand, a lot of concepts needed additional explanation to you, but right now, one thing was clear as day: Tom wasn't kidding. He wouldn't take no for an answer.
"Yes, Tom…" you said.
He grinned, covering your body with his, and gifted you another bruising kiss for your obedience.