Ophelia ━━ tom riddle ✓

003. | her religion

      Tom had apparated him and Ophelia to a place, she did not recognize. It seemed to be a small village, though it appeared to be very empty, almost abandoned. As they walked down the cobblestone streets, Ophelia noted the lack of light and people as a whole. It was like a ghost town. "This is where my family lived," Tom admitted as he grasped Ophelia's wrist, carefully guiding her.

      "Little Hangleton," he muttered. Ophelia nodded and continued to admire the rotting architecture of the village. Eventually, the two came to a stop, in front of a great manor. Though it was nowhere near the same size as the Malfoy manor, it was still quite large. The manor stood on top of a hill, overlooking the rest of the village. With fine detailing and large lavish windows, it appeared to be the only thing in the village that looked decent. The manor had ivy growing on its walls, and its windows were damp from any light. Ophelia wondered if anyone occupied the home.

      "Riddle Manor," Tom announced and pushed open the grand doors. Ophelia stepped inside the manor cautiously.

    "Your parents live here?" Ophelia looked up at Tom as she questioned him. Tom quickly shook his head in response.

     "My parents have been long dead, love," he answered and led her to what seemed to be a living room. With a wave of his hand, Tom ignited the magnificent fireplace. As the flames spread warmth throughout the room, Ophelia found herself sitting down beside Tom on the lavish sofa. The two sat in silence for quite some time, watching the blazing flames, faces illuminated with its light.

    "Why are we here, Tom?" Ophelia turned to face him with a curious face.

     "You wanted to know where I've been all this time, no?" he answered and ran his hand through her blonde hair. "I've been here for the majority of the break, planning," Tom went on.

    "Planning what?" she asked with a shaky voice.

     "You'll find out soon enough, you'll even feel it," Tom's answer was vague, but Ophelia couldn't be bothered to pay attention to his words when his lips found their way to hers. 

      Tom kissed Ophelia, deeply, roughly like he was a dog that had been left out to starve. He kissed her like she was filling in the gaps of his soul, as though she was the only thing keeping his black heart pumping, as though she were the key to keeping blood pumping through his veins. 

     Ophelia responded just as quickly, though she kissed him with a far different emotion behind it. She kissed him with love and a brain polluted with the idea of spending the rest of her life with him for eternity. 

     Her lips were soft and reddening as Tom kissed her with lust and obsessiveness. Tom Riddle was Ophelia Laurent's religion, he gave her life. She would get on her knees in front of an altar and pray for the blessing of his love. 

      She needed his love, his lips, mind, body, and soul, without it she feared for her heart. She feared what would happen if she stopped knowing what it felt like to have his cock sliding in and out of her, to not be able to feel his lips traveling down the valley of her breasts. 

     Ophelia was scared of not being able to hear him whisper meaningless words in her ear as he fucked her, not with love but with obsession, lust, and greed. 

    Though at the moment, Ophelia did not pay attention to the way he was fucking her, but rather how euphoric it felt when she climaxed, how beautiful he looked as he came down from his high.