𝐀𝐩𝐨𝐝𝐲𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - [𝐓.𝐑.]

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Lyra laid on her bed as she thought about the brunette, Tom. How his hands fit so perfectly on her throat, though she'd imagine them elsewhere. Lower. She wanted to pull on his curly dark hair until he hissed her name. Out of breath from him ramming himself into her. She wanted bruises on her neck and down her chest. Even lower if possible. She wanted to feel the delightful pain he would bring to her. She wanted him to bite into her shoulder as they reached their peak. She wanted her daydreams to become existent.

Lyra flustered herself thinking of Tom. She needed relief from the heat that was pulsating. She slowly removed her skirt, and her blouse, leaving her in her under garments. She trailed her fingers down from her chest, to her stomach. Then to her clit. She rubbed her fingers against her heat, closing her eyes, and imagining his tall figure. A moan escaped her lips as her finger began to circle her clit faster. Her breath hitched as she stuck a finger inside her pussy.

"Mmm..fuck." Delirious moans fell out of her mouth as she imagined the brown haired man pumping his fingers in and out of her. His white teeth nipping at her skin. His large hand cupping her breast, and squeezing as she squirmed underneath him. With another scream she put another finger in, her head tipping back in pleasure.

"Fuck- Riddle." She found herself yelling. Her moans grew louder as her sensitivity grew weaker. She bit her lip to help stifle the moans, but it wasn't as strong as her imagination. Lyra had already submerged herself into another world. A parallel universe where she could submit herself to Tom. A universe where Tom devoured her, where she screamed his name while he was in the room.

As she increased her speed, rapid moans escaped her mouth. She bucks her hips at her own fingers, earning closer to her high. With a few final thrusts of her trembling fingers, she released. Her liquid spewed over her fingers, drenching the sheets under her. She took her fingers out of her pussy, and walked to the bathroom to clean herself.

Meanwhile, in the other room, Tom overheard everything. The drowning sound of her delicious moans. He wanted nothing more than to destroy her himself, especially when he heard her scream his name. He wanted to storm into her room, push her down onto the bed and fuck her until she screamed. Every thought that roamed his mind was sinful. In multiple ways. Tom envisioned the girl, naked, clothed, screaming, silenced. Nothing helped his eagerness. He had to remind himself to focus on what he was supposed to do. Kill her and her mudblood friends. And he ought to do it, it was planned. Thought the girl would be an appetizing addition to his plan.

After Lyra cleaned herself, and her room she left to meet with the other prefects, and hopefully the Head Boy. As she walked down the halls she couldn't help but continuing to imagine getting pinned to each wall, and how the cold stone would send shivers down her spine. How painful the bruises- bruises. She looked down at her chest to see her whole neck was covered in purple splotches. She sucked in her breath, and nibbled on her bottom lip. She quickly ran back to her room and found a scarf on the dresser. How could she have left without one? Imagine if someone saw, market as a harlot before the first day. Though she didn't mind if she was a whore for Tom.

She walked into the Great Hall and sat with all the other prefects that sat neatly at the Slytherin table. She sat next to Dorea, who smiled at Lyra. Lyra gave a soft smile in return and listened to the conversation.

"But out of all of us, who would you fuck?" Ethan asked Lucille, a quick glance was passed between Charles and Dorea, that only Lyra and Priscilla caught onto.

"Well he just made his way in." Lucille looked over at the doors of the Great Hall and in walked Tom. Lyra felt a tinge of jealousy, but let it slide. He's not yours...yet, she reminded herself.

Tom made his way in and sat down on the farther end of the Slytherin table, isolating himself from the rest of them, but not far enough that he couldn't hear their conversation.

"What about you, Lyra?" Ethan looked at Lyra. This is my chance, she thought.

"I'm sorry, what was the question?" Lyra quiered, looking back at Ethan.

"Ahh, distracted by my good looks I see." He chuckled, Lyra made a quick glance to see Tom's expression, but his head was still buried in a green journal. "The question was, who would you do?"

"Well, unlike Parkinson, I'd take Nott. Seeker for Slytherin." Lyra smiled when she saw Tom's head slightly perk up.

"Oh, I should've been more specific. The group here." Ethan clarified. "I see your type though. You could go for Charles here, who has the same hair but a little bit lighter, and he's also a seeker. Or there's Tom over there, who's got the looks, just not the personality."

"Noted, Ethan. Thank you." Lyra laughed, as she looked around at her options, avoiding Tom.

"Oh, what about poor Reginald here." Lyra reached across the table in front of her and ruffled Reginald's hair. Tom gripped his pencil tighter, a jealous person he was.

"So you like blondes?" Ethan's smile shone bright.

"She's not interested, Abbott. Take the hint." Tom's rough voice boomed, as he slid back towards the other prefects. Tom stared deeply into Lyra's, giving her a look filled with rage. A look that spoke, you will regret that.