fictional men who have the “it’s okay to murder people but it’s never okay to disrespect women” energy>>>>>>>>

Tomione au: Movie Poster

-Paracusia-

Hermione had always heard voices. 

She’d always heard His voice. It was quiet at the start, like a small child, poking its head out every so often. Waiting to see when it could come to play. Waiting to fully reveal itself. Her mum thought it was just a ‘phase’, that she would grow out of it. Little did she know, it grew with her.

It morphed and changed until it grew more prominent in her thoughts, as potent as poison. It pushed and fought its way into her brain, whispering, caressing, tempting her with ideas of murder and chaos. How sweet the idea of blood would feel on her hands. The sound of bones cracking, followed by pleas of mercy. Seeing the life leave someone’s eyes. It was getting stronger and Hermione knew that soon it would take over and that she wouldn’t be stronger enough to stop it.

She woke up covered in blood. A body had been gruesmoley mangled on the ground and there was a handsome man hovering over it. He turned around.

“I think Tom Riddle has a nice ring to it. Don’t you agree?”

Hermione had always heard voices.

She’d always heard His voice. 

Now everybody else could too.

I‘ll finally start working on this after 5 years lol

Paracusia: Tomione fanfilm

Paracusia- by sometomioneshit

Hermione had always heard voices.

She’d always heard His voice. It was quiet at the start, like a small child, poking its head out every so often. Waiting to see when it could come to play. Waiting to fully reveal itself. Her mum thought it was just a ‘phase’, that she would grow out of it. Little did she know, it grew with her.

It morphed and changed until it grew more prominent in her thoughts, as potent as poison. It pushed and fought its way into her brain, whispering, caressing, tempting her with ideas of murder and chaos. How sweet the idea of blood would feel on her hands. The sound of bones cracking, followed by pleas of mercy. Seeing the life leave someone’s eyes. It was getting stronger and Hermione knew that soon it would take over and that she wouldn’t be stronger enough to stop it.

She woke up covered in blood. A body had been gruesomely mangled on the ground and there was a handsome man hovering over it. He turned around.

“I think Tom Riddle has a nice ring to it. Don’t you agree?”

Hermione had always heard voices.

She’d always heard His voice.

Now everybody else could too.

It's BEEN 5 YEARS SINCE I CAME UP WITH IDEA FOR A FIC… which ended up just being a draft on my laptop for years. But I feel like I could finally write and do it justice maybe.

Atom trails By Nofootprintsinsand ;

Warpaint by Provocative_envy ;

Dimmuborgir by Nofootprintsinsand ;

Jörmugandr by Honeyskeleton ;

Murderers maze by ibuzoo

Chapter Twenty-One: Sorry, Baby

The gun was within arm’s reach, but she didn’t bother with it. Leaning down, she extracted a Bowie knife from her boot.

Moonlight glinted off the ebony handle, across its swept false edge. Such beauty and craftsmanship, enough to make even the hottest flame shiver. Certainly, anyone who considered a diamond a girl’s best friend had never felt twelve ounces of Japanese folded steel balanced perfectly atop their fingertip. That saddened her.

Twirling her beloved, she started for the cabin, blowing a kiss to the security camera. She was delighted by their stupidity, eager to get the main event underway, but first, she had to set the right mood.

It called for something personal, something romantic.

Something with a splash of red.

Tom Riddle: Moodboard

“Not all demons are born to the dark. And not all angels seek the light. Sometimes our circumstance demands a fusion of both. There is no good and evil. Only the time spent between both heaven and hell, where we find our peace. And love. Even the vilest of monsters deserve to be loved.”

New Tomione Something

Not sure how I ended up started messing with this tonight, but this was prompted over a year ago by @ellesjourney. It’s a Tomione Muggle AU/Modern AU/Sugar Daddy AU. 

She clutched the pillow to the side of her and ripped it over her head. The sun was streaming through the white curtains Daphne had purchased, spouting nonsense that white made the room feel more open. ‘Light’ and ‘airy’ had been her exact words, Hermione recalled. 

Why couldn’t she have made it to her own bedroom before passing out? Hermione moaned as her head ached. 

Muttering under her breath, she reached for mobile. Her fingers met the smooth glass of the table first, and she fumbled around until she felt the edge of her phone. It vibrated against the table. Forcing herself to sit up, she glared in the direction of the sun before laying the pillow across her lap. 

Thirty notifications. 

What in the fuck? 

Swiping her finger across the screen, she was horrified to recognise the red and white background of the website. “I did not.” She muttered. “I did fucking not.” Judging by the thirty messages she’d received, Daphne had indeed convinced her to sign up for a sugar daddy website. 

She pressed on her name, almost sick at what she might find. The night before was a blank. She’d drank so much at the pub, challenging Charlie Weasley to a drinking contest while he was in town because she was already so fucking drunk. A sigh of relief left her when she saw that her profile was semi-tasteful. At least she hadn’t taken a naked picture of herself, and uploaded that, as it seemed that other woman had. 

It was only a picture of her from behind, digging her fingers into her hair while leaning her head back. There were two bottles of wine on the counter, uncorked, and now empty since they’d continued drinking. 

Hermione clicked the envelope that had a red thirty sitting in the bubble above it. 

She was not impressed with the first message. You need your car fixed? Why do that when I could give you a monthly allowance to buy a new one? The profile had several pornographic pictures, several of a cock that left something to be desired, and Hermione deleted the message. 

Another asked how big her tits were, which she deleted. 

Another asked how she felt about anal, which she was open to trying, but not with that sort of delivery. 

Her head continued to pound as she sifted through the messages, most of them ridiculous. Really, she should just delete the profile, take aspirin, and move on with her morning, but she was curious. It struck her then, how had all of these men known about her car? 

The answer was found on her profile, in a small box that was meant to be used for likes, and dislikes. Hermione dragged her hand down her face, groaning. Yo, I just need to fix my car. 

There was no question. Daphne had written that since Hermione have never said yo in her life. Only one message remained, this one from a man who’s picture resembled her own. It was a back shot, and he wore a well-tailored suit. 

How much is it to fix your car? 

He was the only one to ask, and not follow it up by a crude remark. The message had been sent just before she woke up, and Hermione really didn’t know why she replied. 

Five hundred pounds. 

Hermione held her phone and made her way into the kitchen A bottle of aspirin already sat on the counter, a glass of water next to it, and she saw that Daphne’s keys were already gone. Her shirt was stained by booze, and she doubted it would come out in one wash. Grumbling under her breath, she settled for a bowl of cereal.

Her mobile vibrated, inching across the counter until it nearly tipped over the edge. Swiping her finger across the screen, she almost dropped it into the bowl of milk. 

Would you like to have dinner with me? 

Her lips parted. I’m not interested in fucking for money. 

I’m not interested in paying you to fuck me. I’m asking if you’d let me pay for dinner, in which you sit across from me. Can you hold a conversation? 

Yes. 

Fuck! What was she thinking? 

You could have fooled me. Eight o’clock? 

Wait, are you offering to fix my car if I have dinner with you?

Well, I’m not going to fix it myself. 

She couldn’t breathe. Dinner? Just dinner? 

Are you going to believe me if I tell you yes? It’s just dinner. You don’t ever have to see me again afterwards if you don’t want to. 

Okay. Yes. 

Make me choose anon asked: Tom Riddle or Hermione Granger

Tom/Hermione Blackmail AU 1

Sharing the first part of this here because I don’t have self-control, but I’m holding back from posting on AO3 until I’m ready to write it steadily. Onto the info/warnings. 

I don’t have a summary, sorry to tell you. But I’ve got tags, which will probably give you a pretty good idea of what this story is about. 

Tags: blackmail, co-workers, D/s elements, dub-con leaning more toward non-con depending how you feel about blackmail, degradation, humiliation. Most of these come out later on, but there’s a blanket warning. 

Now onto the dirty stuff. Admittedly, there is no real smut in the first part, but there is so much sexual tension. It’s about 3k so it’s under the line. It hasn’t been edited, so sorry for the typos. 

I would super love to hear what you think, whether that’s on the post, in my messages, or ask box! 

Keep reading

Tom/Hermione snippet

Her brows shot up, nearly taking a new home in her hairline. “Spare me the bloody dramatics, and give me my mail.”

He didn’t hand it over, but he pulled the contents from inside and let them fly across her desk.

A knot formed in her stomach, tying itself over and over again. They were all photos of herself in various states of undress—some of them showed her completely nude—and she recognized the hands on her in some as her husband’s. “What the fuck—” Hermione began, but she struggled to take a proper breath. “You’ll hand these over immediately, Riddle.”

He clicked his tongue. “I think I’ll pass, actually.”

“Would you rather be arrested?” Hermione all but snarled it. She’d set them on fire, if it weren’t for the parchment under them. They’d catch fire just as well, but perhaps it would be worth it. A final resort, if Riddle didn’t come to his senses.

Gone was his former irritation, and all there was now was his amusement. He didn’t bother to hide it at all. “Unless you’d like for me to tell them how you blackmailed Cassius Parkinson into voting for your bill last summer…”

Her throat could have closed up with how she couldn’t breathe. I have no idea what you’re talking about. That was what she should have said, but it was nowhere near what fucking came out of her mouth. “How do you know about that?”

The photos were still staring up at her, and he was staring at them too much for her liking. She couldn’t recognize him anymore when he did, or that way his eyes darkened when they lingered. “I have quite a few acquaintances, Granger. His daughter was in our year, you must remember, and when Cassius is pissed, he likes to rant.”

“And I was his most recent topic.”

He shrugged. “A few weeks ago, you were. Now that I have not one, but two things I’m able to hold over that pretty little head of yours, I think you’ll be much more agreeable.”

Voices grew louder as footsteps sounded on the other side of the door, and Riddle came around her desk. Hermione took an involuntary step back, and hated the way he smiled when she did. “Why would you want that?”

He’d foregone his dress robes today, but she wished he hadn’t. The way his trousers fit him were even more distracting, and his sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms. Riddle leaned forward, placing a hand on her desk—on the photo, over her bare breasts—and smiled like he knew exactly where his palm had landed. “You’re a quick study, Granger. I think you’ll figure it out.”

She thought she already had with he way he was staring at her. “Please, just let me take the photos. I’ll give you money, or—”

“I don’t want your money.”

Hermione swallowed. “Then what do you want?”

“Right now,” He shifted his stance, and lifted his hand so he could drag his fingertip across the photo. “I want you to tell me why you took these photos and what’s happening in them. You can manage that surely, hmm?”

100 Palette Challenge | Tomione in #84

you: happy new year

me, an intellectual: happy tom riddle’s birthday

all fanfiction is funnier and sexier and vastly better-written when you read it at three in the morning, in the dark, lying on your side, tucked into bed, with screen rotate turned off. that’s just how it works. that’s just facts.

I’m sorry but the idea of Tom Riddle having to enter the Chamber of Secrets going down a slide is so funny to me