#Theo nott

[riddlemelater]

Ruin Me - T.N

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⚠︎ all characters 18+ | MDNI ⚠︎

summary: Theo's struggling with the weight of his duty, lucky for him, you aren't ready to give up on him— No matter what he's done.

wordcount: 4.6k

warnings: Death Eater!Theo X fem!reader, mentions of blood/murder, alcohol use, smut, p in v, slight nipple play if you squint, mild pain kink, rough sex, emotional repression, implied trauma/war, established relationship.

a/n: My humblest apologies for not updating my Mattheo fic. I’ve just lost a very dear family member this week, and I'm struggling with the motivation to write. In the meantime, please accept this Theo draft that’s been gathering dust for months. Take care of yourselves, lovelies <3

The first indication that all was not well was the front door slamming shut with a resounding thud. One that echoed through the dark halls of his family's property and lingered in the air like a bad smell. The sheer force of it had the supporting walls trembling from the impact as it settled into place, as though it had shaken the very foundations on which the manor was built.

Then, it was the heavy drag of dragon-skin boots across the hardwood floors, careless and scuffing at every surface that dared get in their way. Loud, thudding footsteps that resounded through the corridors, causing you to bristle with anticipation. No doubt that Theo was trailing dirt, blood, and Merlin knows what else across the fitted carpets and polished halls. Even worse, you doubted he cared at all, too focused on whatever he'd been cajoled into doing tonight.

He often got like this after a mission, as if he’d lost all ability to think. His usual dry humour and composure replaced by a sort of tunnel vision focus, bordering on obsession. Whenever Theo was like this, he had no regard for anyone or anything— he was volatile, cold, unpredictable.

And there was nothing that could fix that. Not even you.

The poor elves would be appalled when they saw him, his blatant disregard for their strenuous upkeep of Nott Manor an unthinkable sin. You could picture them now, begrudgingly cleaning up the offending footprints while muttering sourly about the reckless heir they were bound to serve. You made a mental note to apologise profusely on his behalf in the morning, already thinking about what baked treats would best appease two scorned house-elves.

Before Theo’s return, all had been well - or, at least — as well as it could be when your boyfriend was in the presence of the Dark Lord.

The soft crackling of the fire in the far corner of the bedroom cast a flickering glow across the room, like the fleeting light of the setting sun on a summers evening. And as the flames burned out to embers you sat tight jawed, fidgety, and trying to distract yourself with one of the books that rested on Theo's bedside.

As one hand flicked through pages you weren't really reading, the other rested in the fur of the purring feline in your lap. The small creature, curled up and warm against your cool skin, soothed the restlessness you fought halfheartedly. You fell into a rhythm, stroking his fur in time with the gentle rise and fall of his tiny frame, biting at the dry skin of your bottom lip.

You hated when Theo was away.

He had been out for hours. So long in fact that you'd abandoned any hope of fulfilling your dinner plans, and instead settled into the plush - but empty - four poster bed. Armed with a book and the cat, who'd soon taken to sprawling out on Theo’s side of the mattress, and you waited apprehensively.

Time twisted in on itself — hours slipping by in a slow, aching crawl. You'd learned not to keep an eye on the clock nowadays, and so you continued to scratch behind the cat's ears, smiling as he purred every so often. You were almost envious of how ignorant the small animal was, sleeping soundly through the heavy thud of boots just down the hall, the footsteps heading to ruin what looked like a perfectly good nap wrapped up in Theo's expensive sheets.

Down the hall, the familiar sound of a cupboard opening, then a glass being firmly sat down on the table echoed through the corridors. Your mind's eye pictured Theo, reaching for one of the many bar cabinets, pouring a healthy glass of whiskey then dispersing of it in one, large gulp.

Not a good night, then. You thought absently and continued your pets, turning a page of the book propped up against the pillow, halfheartedly trying to feign interest. It was best not to pry on nights like this, he'd tell you in his own way once he was ready. Or maybe he wouldn't, and you'd just have to accept that there were some things best left unsaid. Some sins that were best left unconfessed.

You listened to the soft purr of the sleeping animal beside you and waited, anxious.

Eventually, Theo appeared—sullen, quiet. As expected, he said nothing, and so you said nothing either. You stole a glance at him and regretted it instantly: gaunt lines carved into his face, flecks of what you could only assume was blood scattered across his skin. The dark circles beneath his eyes had become a near-constant feature, and his hair stuck out in every direction, like he’d been dragging his fingers through it for hours.

He looked so different now from the fourteen-year-old boy you'd fallen in love with. Back then, his dark circles were from staying up too late in the library, his dishevelled hair from falling asleep on his notes while he tried to practice a particularly difficult spell. Now his late nights were filled with fear, spurred on not by academic success, but by dark magic and a burning mark on his left forearm.

Through your thick lashes, you watched his robes fall unceremoniously from his body, piling in a discarded heap by the ottoman. He kicked them away from his feet, and his boots clattered against the floor a moment later, with the same careless disregard for where they landed. You said nothing, only watched the dull expression on his face— lifeless and miserable— and waited for him to speak.

Theo sighed and huffed as though something was weighing heavily on his mind, yet he didn't speak, only stripped down to his boxers and disappeared into the en-suite. The shower began to run and your eyes flitted up to meet the ajar door he'd just slid behind, tentatively listening to his movements until he settled underneath the stream of water.

Definitely not a good night.

Wordlessly, you rose from the bed and lifted his robes, dropping them into the washing basket without taking a look at them - you didn't want to know what, or who, was staining them. On nights like this, it was best not to ask because you’d never like the answer, and Theo would struggle to meet your gaze.

The water still ran in the bathroom, falling harshly against the tiled floor as Theo scrubbed at his skin with fervour, a ritual neither of you had entirely come to terms with. Your teeth bit at the dry skin of your lips, the air thick with tension, and you returned his boots to the shoe rack, murmuring a quick cleaning spell and hiding them from sight. As if hiding the evidence he'd ever left the house might help him forget.

Whether that was for your benefit or Theo’s was unclear.

In the bathroom, Theo was muttering, not loud enough for you to make out details, but enough that you were aware of it. Whatever had happened tonight was playing on his mind. You knew it was bad, but Theo had come home in one piece - and that? Well, that was good enough for you.

Was it selfish of you? Perhaps. But Theo was alive, and really, that's all that mattered.

In recent years, you'd seen how ruthless Voldemort could be, you'd watched when the lifeless body of Cedric Diggory had appeared before the student body, pale and lifeless, whilst his father wailed at his side. When Harry Potter had fought him in the Department of Mysteries, you’d all seen the news coverage. You could still picture the Daily Prophet's front page announcing his return, clear as day. And when things had begun to change at Hogwarts, you'd only held onto Theo tighter, promised that no matter what, you were there for him.

A promise you would honour to the grave.

Theo was no stranger to the cruelty of the Dark Lord. His mother’s death had marked him, twisted him into something darker even as a child, but it was his father’s loyalty to the cause that had nearly destroyed him. You still remember the look on his face when he received that letter in your sixth year—that letter.

It was December. You’d just finished your winter exams. Theo had decided to stay at Hogwarts over the break, just to be with you, to escape whatever darkness called to him. But that evening, as he sat beside you on the couch, his fingers trembling as he hesitated, something in him was cracked open. He’d been terrified to show you what he’d received in the morning post—a letter that wasn’t just words on parchment, but a death warrant. A promise. One that sealed his future as a servant of the Dark Lord.

The moment he handed it to you, his eyes wide, he looked to you as if you might be his salvation — or his undoing. But before you could say a word, before you could reach for him, he crumpled the letter back in his hand and whispered, "I have to go."

And Theo went home for Christmas that year.

It took him nearly twenty minutes to get clean enough that his hushed murmurs had fallen quiet, and another ten until the water finally shut off entirely. You weren’t sure what version of Theo you’d get.

Some nights he’d come in without a word, he’d shower and scrub at his skin— scrub at that mark until he felt better— then he’d collapse into bed beside you, wrap his arms around your waist and tug you close, whisper sweet nothings into your ear till you fell asleep tangled up together. You wouldn’t speak, but you’d burrow closer, let his tight grip squeeze the breath from your lungs if it meant he could rest easier.

“Still here, then." He said flatly, his tone laced with a bitter sharpness. You looked up at him cautiously, studying him. "Thought maybe you'd have finally grown a spine and left."

The towel around his waist dropped, and he tugged on a fresh shirt and clean boxer shorts, not glancing at you once.

So it was that version of Theo tonight.

You said nothing, your fingers still stroking the cat lying beside you. The small creature stirred a little, then sat up quickly as Theo scoffed. Its eyes narrowed as it stretched out, as if limbering up for an attack— the sweet thing had always preferred you, much to Theo’s amusement, and clung to your side whenever he had the chance. Your gaze flitted from the cat to Theo, concern etched into your features.

"Don't look at me like that. I don't want your pity." He spat, instinctively tucking his left arm from sight, pulling a jumper over his head a moment later. You knew he hated when you saw his mark.

The cat sprang off the bed and scuttled out the door quickly, Theo's words clearly agitating the small beast. You frowned, watching the end of his bushy tail slipping out of sight, leaving the two of you alone.

"You scared him." You murmured softly, your eyes lingering on the slightly ajar door. Then, as if you'd drifted off briefly, your head turned back towards Theo, taking in the sight of him as he dried his hair with the towel, his dark locks tousled and damp from the shower

"Theo baby, I-" You tried, voice tender and careful. Using that word— that name that was only ever his— hoping it might jolt him out of his spiral. Comfort him, ground him.

But he flinched like the word burned him.

"Don't."

It came out like a snarl, cutting through your hesitant words. So unlike your Theo, it was almost unrecognisable. He spun sharply, eyes wide. Wild.

"Don't fucking 'baby' me." His voice was low and cruel. Mocking.

You bristled, swallowing back the sting. Fighting every instinct to physically recoil from his words. He didn’t mean it. You knew that, even if it hurt to hear. Your nails dug into your palms, crescents pressing deep into skin. Every breath felt brittle, like it might shatter in your throat. You wanted to move—reach for him—but your limbs felt like they’d been filled with lead. If you could just get to him, take his hand, press kisses to his bruised knuckles and red skin, maybe he’d see. Maybe then he’d realise you were in this for keeps.

Maybe if you just—

"I killed a boy with eyes the same shade as yours tonight."

He didn’t look for your reaction — didn’t need to. He could feel it in the silence. He didn't need to see your wide eyes or parted lips to know. He just started to pace, hands dug into his hair and tugging angrily, as if he could tear the image of their lifeless faces from his mind if he pulled hard enough.

You swallowed the lump beginning to form, crawling across the bed till you were sat at the edge. Waiting for the right moment to interrupt, but he was talking now, and he needed to talk about it. You needed him to talk.

“A kid. Younger than me.” He muttered, not looking at you, just pacing angrily. As if he were at war with himself. "I didn't flinch."

“What kind of person doesn’t flinch?” He scoffed, a bitter, breathless sound that didn’t quite reach a laugh. “I looked him in the eyes. Held my wand steady as he begged. Do you know how easy it was?”

You couldn’t tear your eyes off him, uncontrollable tears welling up and threatening to spill. He stopped pacing for a moment, just long enough to look at you— and Merlin, there was something fractured in his stare. Like he wanted you to see him as a monster, that cruel snarl on his face as if he wanted you to look away in shame.

“Like breathing. That easy.” He snapped his fingers and you flinched, your whole body jerking like a puppet on a string.

Theo's chest heaved, as though the act had knocked the wind out of him. His shoulders collapsed inward, jaw slack, fingers twitching faintly like they hadn’t gotten the message that the moment had passed.

His eyes fluttered shut, as if he couldn't bear to even look at you. His tongue ran across the inside of his cheek, and he exhaled a bitter sigh, one that was loaded with self-loathing and spite. Your heart broke for him.

"Theo, baby. You had no choice." You murmured weakly, pleading. It wasn't enough, but what else could you say— I'm sorry your father signed you up for a war you didn't want to be a part of?

"I killed someone tonight. Do you even get that?" He snapped incredulously, taking a step closer to you. And it was like that flicker of softness from just a moment ago had vanished, replaced by the hardened composure that had been drilled into him.

Your lip trembled, mouth opening and closing, useless, as you tried to speak. Tears pricked in your eyes, blurring your vision as you stared back at him, speechless.

"Dead. Gone. Just like that. Do you really think you understand how I feel at all?"

He took another step toward you, less than a meter from the edge of the bed where you sat. The same bed that you'd held him in as he cried, sobbed till his voice died out about the things he was terrified to have to do. Things he could now do, as easily as breathing, apparently.

You shook your head in quiet defeat. He scoffed once more.

"Exactly. So don't sit here with your little book and your— your fucking cat and act like everything is fine."

His voice raised louder, crueller, and you forced yourself to look away and exhale shakily. Theo hadn't taken his eyes off you since his outburst; he just stood and watched, chest heaving up and down in ragged breaths.

"Theo..." You said softly, rising from the mattress and reaching out to cup his cheek, holding his face in your much smaller hand like he was made of glass. "You didn’t have a choice. It's not your fault."

He opened his mouth, another argument on the tip of his tongue, and your head shook gently. He blinked, as if he was about to ignore you, but then he pressed his lips together and his eyes softened.

"It's not your fault, baby." You said again, stronger this time. Less like you were trying to convince him, and more like you were telling the truth. Your thumb stroking over his cheek in tender, repetitive swipes. He didn't flinch under your touch, but he didn't lean into it either. Just stared down at you with something unreadable in his eyes.

"You can't forget it, I know." You soothed, "But you don't need to deal with it on your own either. You can talk to me."

Theo's head shook just slightly. "You don't know what you're saying." He swallowed, his familiar blue eyes staring down at you.

"Yes, I do."

He shook his head again, firmer. "I can't. I'll only hurt you. I'll destroy everything good in you just by being with you."

Your hand slid down his cheek, skimmed down past the tender skin of his neck, and paused as it reached his chest. You could feel the quick, uneven thrum of his heart, pulsing in his chest like a trapped bird.

"Then ruin me." You murmured.

It came out soft, but sure—like you meant it. Like it wasn’t some reckless offer made out of pity or panic, but a choice. A deliberate invitation to be broken, that you’d do anything if it meant that he wouldn’t have to break alone.

Theo froze. His chest stopped its ragged rise and fall. His eyes dropped to where your hand pressed flat against his chest, to the place where you could feel the wild, desperate flutter of his heart. And then he looked back at you.

Your breath hitched as he surged forward, lips pressing against your own in a bruising kiss that made you stagger back a step. He was unrelenting, however, and his strong hands only wrapped around you, pulling you back to him.

One hand tangled in your hair, messy and desperate, pressing your head closer to his and chasing your lips hungrily. The other rested on the small of your back, his fingers grasping at your clothes like you'd slip away otherwise.

You let your fingers slide up his chest, over the taut muscles of his shoulders, feeling the harsh beat of his heart under your fingertips, mirroring the frantic rhythm in your own chest.

The kiss was heated, raw, and filled with unspoken words. Theo's grip tightened, the tips of his fingers digging in enough that you winced, and a quiet groan fell from your lips. His breath was hot against your skin as he pulled away just enough to press his forehead to yours. His hand drifted to your face, cupping it like you were the most precious thing on earth.

His eyes searched yours — torn, conflicted, filled with a mixture of guilt and something deeper. His lips parted as if he was going to say something, but he didn't. Instead, he closed the space between you once more, his kiss rough. Stripped of all restraint and filled only with desire.

His hands roamed again, pulling at your clothes with a sense of urgency that matched the frantic pulse of your heartbeat. There was no hesitation in how he moved, only the fierce need to feel something other than the heaviness inside him. To feel you, real and tangible, here with him.

Your back hit the mattress before you could even register moving, and Theo was climbing on top of you in an instant, caging you in between his arms. His lips found yours quickly, pressing desperate kisses across your lips, nose brushing against yours as he moved.

It didn’t feel like his usual tender kisses. It felt like there was something more, as if he was pouring all of the hurt and anger that had boiled up inside him into the kiss, and you were all too eager to take it.

Theo growled low in his throat as he tore his mouth from yours, only to bury it in the soft curve of your neck. His teeth sank into your skin, rough and unrelenting, leaving behind an angry, pulsing bruise.

“Theo—” you gasped, fingers digging into his shoulder as a sharp ache bloomed beneath his bite. But he didn’t respond— didn’t even seem to hear you. He was lost, wholly consumed by the feel of your body, by the desperate need to drown in something that wasn’t blood or guilt.

Your spine arched instinctively, pressing closer as he ravaged your neck with hungry, possessive nips. His hands moved blindly, tugging at your clothes with a desperation that bordered on frantic— stripping you like he couldn’t bear even an inch of fabric between you.

“So fucking gorgeous…” he breathed against your skin, voice gravelly and low. His hand snaked down to grasp at your chest, kneading roughly at your tits.

Your head tilted back as a moan tore from your throat, and Theo groaned at the sound— low and wrecked— like it shattered something within him.

“Fuck— do that again,” he muttered, his mouth hot and desperate against your collarbone. His fingers grasping at your nipple and pinching, rolling it between his fingers.

You writhed underneath him, moaning softly, and Theo swore under his breath— something guttural and half-feral. Something that only made you want to moan louder, to give him that satisfaction.

“Drives me fucking mad…” he rasped, lips trailing down your chest. “You don’t even know.”

His mouth wrapped around your nipple without warning, sucking hard enough to make you jolt, his teeth grazing at the sensitive flesh just shy of too rough. His hand slipped between your thighs, forcing them apart with a bruising grip.

“All I think about—” he muttered into your skin, voice breaking. “All fucking day.”

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his own dark and glazed over with need. “You make it stop.” He breathed, pressing a soft kiss to your skin, “The only time I can breathe is when I’m inside you.”

You barely had time to process his words before his fingers slid underneath the waistband of your panties, dragging them down with a rough urgency that made your breath catch. He didn’t wait for your permission, pressing two fingers against your heat, swearing under his breath as he felt how wet you already were.

“Fuck,” he muttered as if it hurt, “you’re soaked for me— always are, aren’t you?”

Your hips bucked into his touch and his eyes snapped up to meet yours, tearing away from between your thighs as if it pained him to look away. “You love this, don’t you?” He growled, “Letting me ruin you like this.”

He pressed inside quickly, thick fingers filling you, and your cry only encouraged him to work quicker, pushing in and out of you with ease.

“That’s it,” Theo murmured, eyes mesmerised by the way his fingers disappeared inside of you. “Taking it so well, good girl.”

“T-Theo!” You gasped, eyes screwing shut as he continued his ministrations.

At the sound of your voice he smirked, dragging his thumb to your clit and drew small circles, working you open quickly. His mouth still panting against your throat, watching the way you writhed and moaned, “Gonna fuck you so hard you won’t remember your own name.”

Your thighs trembled as he pumped his fingers into you, whispering filthy words of praise as you whimpered and writhed beneath him. Each thrust felt precise and punishing, his palm grinding against your clit in the most delicious way.

Theo’s mouth was everywhere— biting at your throat, licking over bruises he’d just made, his tongue catching on your pulse point like he needed to taste how alive you were beneath him. Like that alone was enough to keep him grounded.

“God,” he rasped, pulling his hand back to strip the rest of his clothes from his body, barely breaking contact with your sensitive skin. “Gonna lose my fucking mind.” He groaned.

Your legs parted instinctively as he adjusted, and he caught your thighs in his palms, humming approvingly as you opened yourself up to him. His cock was rock hard, the tip glistening with pre cum as he lined himself up, then paused, his eyes meeting yours.

“This what you wanted?” He asked roughly, unable to stop himself from pressing forward just slightly. “Say it. Tell me.” He urged.

“Yes,” you panted, “Theo, please—”

He didn’t let you finish.

He pushed in with a hard thrust, one that knocked the air from your lungs as he buried himself to the hilt in one desperate motion. Your walls clenching around him, causing his body to shudder above you and a strangled sound breaking in his throat.

“Fuck, baby. So tight.” He gritted out, head falling against your shoulder as he started to move. “So perfect for me.”

Every thrust was hard, deliberate— like if he buried himself deep enough he could fuck the memories out of his head. You could feel it in the way his hands gripped your body, the way his rhythm faltered every time you gasped his name.

Your back arched as he drove into you, unrelenting, each thrust dragging little gasps from your throat. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, wet and filthy and desperate, and the broken moans he drew from you only matched the obscene sounds.

“Fuck, you feel—” he choked out, voice raw with need, “—so fucking good. Can’t think— can’t fucking breathe.”

His fingers bruised your hips, dragging you back onto him as if he needed you closer. His mouth finding yours in a kiss that was all heat, and teeth, and breathless groans. You whimpered into his mouth, nails clawing at his back and he only hissed through his teeth, the pain spurring him on.

“Theo— fuck— Theo,” you gasped, head tipping back as your body began to tremble beneath him, your orgasm fast approaching.

He snapped his hips harder, faster, his thrusts turning punishing as he chased both your pleasure and his own oblivion. His face burried in your neck, breath ragged and uneven as he panted against your skin.

“Gonna cum,” he groaned, biting down hard on your shoulder. “Gonna come inside you— fuck— can’t stop—can’t—”

You cried out as your orgasm hit, clenching around him like a vice, your whole body seizing from the sheer force of it. Your orgasm triggered Theo’s and he tipped over the edge just after you. His thrusts faltered as he spilled into you with a low, guttural sound, his hips jerking erratically as he emptied himself, still clutching onto you tightly.

You were still catching your breath when his body finally stilled, the frantic pace giving way to a trembling stillness as he collapsed on top of you. His hands, once gripping onto your hips harder enough to bruise, loosened quickly— like he was suddenly now aware of how lost in the moment he had been.

His forehead dropped once more, pushing against your shoulder as his damp curls brushed against your skin and he exhaled shakily. For a long moment he didn’t move, just breathed, shallow, broken breaths against your collarbone.

“Shit— I’m sorry,” he mumbled, barely audible. “I didn’t mean to— fuck. I just… I didn’t know where else to put it.”

Your hand rose instinctively, fingers threading through his curls, massaging lightly.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you murmured against his hair, “You’re allowed to let it out.”

He hummed absently, and his arms tightened around you. Clutching on like you were the only thing keeping him afloat. “I love you so much.” He mumbled in an exhausted voice.

“I love you too, Theo.” You replied, and you squeezed him tighter. “Get some sleep now, baby.”

[theosbae]

theo loves when u scratch his back

theo’s always been quiet in bed, low groans, shaky exhales, the occasional curse murmured against your skin. but when your nails drag down his back? that’s when you get a reaction.

his jaw clenches, a sharp hiss slipping through his teeth as he thrusts deeper, harder. “fuck—do that again.”

you do, digging your nails in just enough to leave faint red trails along his skin, and his head drops to your shoulder, breath hot against your neck.

“merlin—” his voice is rough, wrecked, and you feel the way his muscles tense beneath your touch, like he’s barely holding on. “you tryna kill me, sweetheart?”

you smile, pressing your lips to his temple. “you like it.”

he doesn’t deny it. just groans, shoving his face into the crook of your neck as he fucks into you, desperate, chasing that high.

and when he finally comes, his back is covered in thin, angry lines, evidence of just how good you made him feel. evidence he’ll still feel tomorrow. evidence he’ll want again and again.

[riddlesrizzler]

Gracie babyyy what are your thoughts on lifeguard! himbo Theo who notices a suspicious number of girls needing cpr while he’s on duty, so he decides to do adult swim lessons. And suddenly there’s a suspicious number of girls who don’t know how to swim. And fellow lifeguard! reader is just so done with him

Just spit balling here, Leigh’s AU festival is taking over my entire brain rn

THEO would be eating it up for sure!!!! like this is what he is made for, attention. especially female attention. and like what better way to spend the summer with girls in tiny bikinis who need saving? (but obviously he is more interested in wondering if you can blow his whistle)

@nottslove what are your thoughts on lifeguard! theo? i loved your fic where he basically undoes the readers swimsuit!

It starts with CPR.

Specifically: a suspicious number of girls needing it.

“Third one this week,” you mutter, arms crossed, as Theo hoists yet another sunburned twenty-something out of the shallow end and gently sets her down on the pool deck like he’s performing a sacred ritual. “She choked on her own gum. In three feet of water.”

“She panicked,” Theo says seriously, brushing wet hair from her forehead. “It’s a real thing, you know. Shock.”

“She winked at you mid-rescue.”

He shrugs. “I have that effect on people.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Theo.”

“Yes, my beautiful and morally upright co-lifeguard?”

“Stop giving people fake CPR.”

“It’s not fake. It’s emotional CPR.”

“I will push you into the deep end.”

He grins at you-big and harmless and golden in that shirtless, sun-kissed way that makes your job so much harder. Not because you’re into it (though, okay, maybe you are, just a little), but because half the female population within a ten-mile radius seems to be faking medical emergencies just to get mouth-to-mouth from Theo Nott.

It’s getting exhausting.

So when he shows up one Monday morning with a laminated flyer and a hopeful look in his eye, you already know you're in trouble.

“I’m starting an Adult Swim Class,” he announces, slapping the flyer onto your clipboard.

You squint. “Since when do you teach?”

“Since now. It’s about public service. Drowning prevention. Lifesaving stuff.”

The flyer has a photo of him shirtless on it. Holding a pool noodle. Smiling like a himbo Greek god.

“Theo. This is just your Tinder profile in Arial Bold.”

“Marketing is everything.”

You sigh. “You're doing this just for the attention, aren't you?”

“I’m doing this,” he says, flashing that stupidly perfect grin, “for the community.”

The first class sells out in five minutes.

Fifteen girls show up in full makeup and matching pastel swim caps. One of them brought a waterproof ring light.

“I think I forgot how to float,” one says sweetly, clinging to Theo’s bicep like she’s just been rescued from a riptide. “Can you hold me up?”

You lean against the lifeguard tower, watching the chaos unfold.

To his credit, Theo really is trying.

Sort of.

“Okay, ladies,” he says, chest puffed like he’s teaching a masterclass. “Let’s start with breathing. In through the nose, out through the-uh-smile.”

Someone giggles. Another pretends to slip and grabs onto him for balance. A third is live-streaming on TikTok.

You can’t take it anymore.

“Alright, fish sticks,” you bark, blowing your whistle. “Float practice. Spread out. That does not mean dogpile on the lifeguard.”

Groans ripple across the pool, but they obey. Reluctantly.

Theo gives you a sheepish look. “I think they’re learning.”

“They’re learning how to flirt with a himbo with a whistle”

“I don’t wear a whistle”

“Exactly.”

He chuckles, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you again-like it used to be before Theo became the Poolside Panty-Dropper.

You raise an eyebrow. “You enjoying yourself, hotshot?”

“Maybe a little,” he admits, glancing at the group now dramatically practicing synchronized floating. “But hey. No one’s fake drowning.”

You snort. “Yet.”

He leans a little closer. “Unless you’re planning to.”

Your eyes narrow. “Don’t even try.”

“I’d save you first, you know.”

You scoff, but your cheeks go warm anyway.

Theo winks. “Emotional CPR. Just say the word.”

You roll your eyes and blow the whistle again.

[noellehdl]

BARTY CROUCH JR DAUGHTER! READER!

Crouch Reader… who has the reputation to be as batshit insane as her daddy. Until someone really talks to her and they start understanding how unbelievable smart she actually is.

Crouch Reader…who falls into an absolute academic rivalry with everyone that underestimates her in the slightest, with absolutely happens to be ‘i’m better than everyone, i’m smarter than everyone, i am THE slytherin heir’ Theodore Nott.

Crouch Reader… who actually happens to have a pretty good relationship with her father, against his beliefs and that he was in Azkaban, but no, they’re on talking terms, and she even goes home on holidays.

Crouch Reader..that goes home in said holidays to tell Barty how much she absolutely hates Theodore, and Barty who chuckles knowing in his tea, because in all his time in hogwarts he saw how easily girls fall for the Nott charm.

[prythiansprincess]

DELIRIUM | a stalker! theo au.

"you're so fucking special; I wish I was special."

word count: 5,662.

warnings: please read all trigger warnings before proceeding. dead dove do not eat, noncon, murder, coercion, stalking, assault, manipulation, gaslighting, knife play, blood play, abusive behavior.

author's note: I don't say it lightly when I say that this fic is very dark. I fully understand that the topics and themes discussed are not for everyone, so please be mindful of the warnings before engaging. special thanks to @writingsbychlo for proofreading and encouraging my over all psychophathy.

♫ creep - radiohead. nav. stalker! theo au.

There was something wrong with Theo Nott. 

Perhaps it was a result of his traumatic upbringing or perhaps it was simply encrypted into his genetic code, but whether nature or nurture was to be blamed, this simple truth was certain: a sick, twisted, and insatiable monster lurked within him and its hunger could be satiated by one thing and one thing only — you. 

In the deepest and darkest depths of his inky black heart, Theo knew that he was completely and utterly fucked up. This thing inside of him — this madness — rendered him incapable of forming healthy relationships. Time and time again, his passions and proclivities hinted towards a more sinister nature. Some called him deranged, delirious, delusional, but Theo simply thought of himself as a hopeless romantic. 

Theo was not the type of man to harbor a crush or entertain a fling or succumb to a fleeting infatuation that eventually faded over time. When he loved, he loved with his entire being. He loved until it became a fixation, a compulsion, an obsession. This has and always will be his fatal flaw. 

From a young age, Theo learned that he was not normal. When he presented Pansy Parkinson with the front teeth of the boy who dared knock her off the swings, that was not normal. When he gifted Daphne Greengrass the rotting carcass of a bird that had kept her up with the incessant tapping of its beak against her bedroom window, that was not normal. When he offered to carve the initials of Mattheo Riddle into his skin to prove his loyalty, that was not normal. 

Theo was bereft when his friends cried and fled from him, feeling distraught and disappointed by their reactions. After all, he had only done those things to make them happy. Why couldn’t they see that?

When his mother found him crying in the Nott Manor gardens, she explained to him that he was a very special boy. That his capacity for love would be misunderstood by those around him because they simply could not feel the way that he did. The intensity of his emotions surpassed their understanding; they didn’t know what it was like to be irrevocably consumed by love. His devotion could be misconstrued, his affection scorned, which is why it became imperative for Theo to shield himself from the world until the right person came along. 

So, he conformed, he adapted, he survived, but Theo knew it was only a matter of time before his carefully constructed mask slipped. 

In the back of a crowded restaurant, Theo swirled the glass of wine in his hand before taking a long sip. The waiter had recommended the red vintage, droning on and on about the quality of the 1978 Barolo Montorfino and the meticulous aging process of the Nebbiolo grapes to produce this particular bottle. Theo fought the urge to roll his eyes. He already knew all of this, given that the wine was produced by his family’s vineyard in the Italian countryside. 

The complex flavor danced on his tongue. On any other occasion, he might have savored the hints of cherry, roses, and truffle peeking through its rich-bodied profile, but Theo tasted nothing but ash in his mouth. Because across the rooftop sat the woman of his dreams, drinking and laughing and dining with another man. Theo gripped the stem of his glass until his knuckles turned white. 

Needless to say, the night was not going as Theo intended it to. It was supposed to be him feeding you little bites of tagliatelle, topping your wine off with a wink, and listening to your melodious voice recount silly anecdotes about yourself. Instead, Adrian fucking Pucey was blattering on like a bloody twat, failing to appreciate the goddess seated across from him. The stupid prick was probably too busy gauging whether or not he was going to get lucky tonight. As if Theo would ever let that happen. 

No, that simply wouldn’t do. 

Sure, he had enjoyed the game of cat and mouse between you over the past few months. Since the day you moved into the house next to his, there had been this constant push and pull between you. The flirtatious banter as he helped you carry your dresser into the foyer after he found you struggling in the yard, the freshly baked goods you presented to him as thanks after the fact, the shy way you smiled at him every time you crossed paths when you departed and arrived back home. 

Something awakened within him the second he laid eyes on you. Something dark, something dangerous, something that he thought was long buried in the depths of his depraved soul. 

It wasn’t all in his head. Hell, you had invited him in on that very first day. You wanted him there. You wanted him near you. You wanted him.

All the darkness that he tried so hard to push down seemed to resurface all at once. Suddenly, Theo found himself falling back into old old habits. Watching you through your bedroom window while you undressed, sneaking into your house while you were away at work, planting cameras in every room without your knowledge, and even going so far as stealing your lingerie. 

But Theo wasn’t stalking you. 

No.

He was merely keeping an eye on you. 

Clearly, you needed someone to look after you if you were putting your trust in a man like Adrian Pucey. You were too soft and sweet and innocent for this world. Theo wanted to protect you. In his eyes, Pucey was a threat to your relationship and there was only one way to deal with a threat — eliminate it. 

The opportunity presented itself after that sordid dinner. After dessert was served, Theo quietly slipped out ahead of the happy couple. Well, the two of you wouldn’t be happy for long. Not if he had anything to do with it. 

Surrounded by silence and darkness, Theo laid in wait until he heard the tell-tale sounds of the front door unlocking. He observed in quiet rage as Adrian kissed his girl. The door snicked shut, but the two of you barely noticed as you stumbled through the foyer, his lips sucking at your neck, his hands roaming underneath your dress, his cock pressing against your core as you mewled for him. Theo couldn’t stomach a second more of this. The sound of Pucey’s name falling from your lips was enough to awaken the monster within him. 

A sickening thud echoed through the house as Pucey dropped to the floor. With wide eyes, you scrambled in the darkness, blinking in disbelief at the sight before you. The silk strap of your dress fell from your shoulders at the abruptness of the attack. Your pupils, which were previously blown from desire, now shifted into fear. 

“T — Theo?” Disbelief colored your expression as you looked up at your neighbor. Dressed in all black, his tall and lithe form blended in with his surroundings. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t really think I’d let this prick weasel his way into your bed, did you?” 

You blinked in confusion. On the floor of your living room, Adrian nursed his broken nose, trying and failing to staunch the blood flowing through his fingers. 

“Do you know this asshole, Y/N?” 

“He’s my neighbor,” you answered. Theo’s face twisted in anger at your response. You cowered under his gaze and scooted backwards against the wall. “Theo, what’s going on? Why are you doing this?” 

Theo sneered. “Isn’t it obvious, bella?” Your blood ran cold when a flash of silver appeared in his hand. “I know why you went on this date tonight. You wanted me to fight for you, so here I am. I love you and I won’t let anyone keep us apart.”

“What are you talking about, Theo?” You cried as he stalked towards you. “I barely know you. We’re neighbors, just neighbors, that’s all.” You pleaded, begging for him to listen to reason. “Please, just stop this. You don’t have to do any of this.” 

“Shh, my sweet Y/N,” Theo cooed as he wiped a stray tear away with his thumb. His blue eyes bore into you with such intensity that it made you shiver. There was something lurking behind that dead eyed stare and you feared for whatever it might unleash. 

Theo caressed your cheek with reverence while you trembled in fear. “You just don’t know any better, cara mia. But don’t worry, I’ll show you how much I love you. I’ll protect you; I’ll keep you safe.” He pressed his forehead against yours. “I’m going to take care of this. He will never come between us again.” 

Before you could protest, Theo had already rounded on Adrian. The brunette threw his hands up as Theo pulled him up by his collar. “I almost feel sorry for you, you know,” Theo taunted. “You probably thought you were so smart, preying on someone as sweet and innocent as Y/N. You never deserved her.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Adrian retorted, crimson staining his dress shirt as he struggled against his captor’s hold. “It was just a few harmless dates.” 

“A few harmless dates?” Theo repeated in a mocking tone. “Christ, you can’t truly be that stupid, can you? You don’t even understand how lucky you are to have gotten the chance to be in her company. She’s a fucking goddess and you — “ Adrian groaned when Theo yanked his hair back to give him a proper view of you. “Well, you’re nothing.” 

“Look man, I don’t want any trouble. I didn’t know she had a boyfriend. I was just lookin for an easy fuck — “

Fury simmered in Theo’s gaze. The careless words that Adrian spoke cut you deep, but not nearly as deep as the blade that sliced his throat open. The crimson river flowing from Adrian’s neck bathed Theo in blood, covering his face, his hair, and his clothes. 

You screamed as Adrian slumped to the floor, his lifeless body discarded onto your cream rug as his vacant gaze stared at nothing. The gravity of his death sent a surge of adrenaline in your veins. You needed to get the fuck away, The instinct to survive kicked in and you darted for the door, but unfortunately, Theo was quicker. 

A strong arm wrapped around your waist, hauling you away from your only form of escape. You struggled in his hold, clawing and kicking and screaming as Theo dragged you through the living room. 

“You killed him!” You screamed while you continued thrashing. “He’s dead, you killed him, oh my god — “

“Don’t be like that, cara mia,” Theo said in a soothing voice. “I thought you would be happy. With our little problem out of the way, we can finally be together.” 

“You’re a fucking psychopath!” 

With a swift kick to the balls, Theo stumbled backwards which gave you time to frantically reach for your purse. The slick blood that coated the wooden floors now sullied your dress, but you pushed the thought away as you recovered your phone. As you tapped on the screen, it came alive with a bright light. With shaking hands, you tried to swipe up to dial emergency services, but the screen buzzed with static before completely dying out. 

“No!” You screamed in frustration as you pressed the dead screen over and over again. “No, no, no, this can’t be happening!” 

Behind you, Theo sighed and shook his head in disappointment. Crouching down before you, the warmth of his palm felt like a slap to the face as he cradled your jaw.

“You’ve been a bad girl, bella,” Theo purred. “I didn’t want to have to do this, but you’ve left me no choice.” 

Your eyes widened as he produced a set of handcuffs from his pocket. “No, please, you don’t have to do this. Just let me go and I won’t tell anyone. I promise.” 

“Let you go?” Theo repeated in a cold, menacing voice as he clamped the handcuffs over your wrists. “After all that I’ve done for you, do you really think I would be capable of just letting you go?” He tutted in disapproval as he tugged you towards the stairs. “You’re all mine now, you’re not going anywhere.” 

The short walk to your bedroom felt like a march towards death. You began to shake violently as Theo guided you towards the bed, instructing you to lie down as he tinkered with the handcuffs. Tears blurred your vision as your heart hammered against your ribcage. 

“Are you going to kill me?” you whispered. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Theo said with a scoff as he rearranged the cuffs and chained you to the bed. “You wouldn’t be any fun if you’re dead.” 

Fear gripped every fiber of your being in a chokehold. Theo leaned back and admired his work. The intensity of his gaze felt like a brand against your skin as he drank in the sight of you spread out for him. The silk of your dress was stained with blood, the fabric nearly see through from how soaked it was. 

“You’re such a pretty little thing all tied up like a present for me, principessa.” 

His blue eyes were nearly black as he gazed at you with unadulterated desire. The pale moonlight streaming through the window casted sinister shadows on his face. 

“If you’re not going to kill me, then what do you plan on doing?” 

“I’m so glad you asked,” Theo declared with a deranged smile as he brandished his knife. “I plan on worshipping every inch of your body.” The cold edge of his blade traced the curve of your jaw. “I plan on making you see God with my tongue, my fingers, my cock.” The knife continued its path down the valley of your breasts. “I plan on possessing you, owning you, and ruining you for every other man.” 

“You barely even know me,” you pleaded, shying away from the blade that now rested on the hem of your dress. “I’m not yours, Theo.” 

The air left your lungs all at once as his hand wrapped around your throat. The lack of oxygen made you dizzy and you grew limp against the bed, barely even registering the blade caressing your skin. 

“I’ll carve my name into your thigh if that’s what it takes to get it through your pretty little head that you are mine.” 

You coughed as he released his hold, disoriented by the sudden rush of air into your lungs. “Don’t touch me! Don’t fucking touch me, oh fuck —“ 

Your hips jerked at the sudden cold sensation between your legs. Theo watched in amusement as he pressed the hilt of his blade against your clothed core, drinking in the way you writhed underneath him. 

“What was that, bella?” Theo teased. “I can’t hear you over all that moaning.” 

Your cheeks burned with shame as you continued his ministrations against your clit. It was a purely physical response, but it felt like your own body was betraying you. This wasn’t supposed to feel good. You hated the way you reacted to his touch, his words, his gaze. You hated him. 

“You’re a sick fuck,” you yelled as you tugged at your restraints. Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time, you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or pleasure. “This is vile, this is evil. I hate you. I fucking hate you —“ 

Theo chuckled darkly as he tugged your panties to the side and slipped the hilt of his blade through your folds without warning. “Then why are you so fucking wet for me?” 

“I’m not!” In all your life, you had never felt more degraded and humiliated. The conflicting emotions warred in your mind, but the truth of the matter was that you had absolutely no control over your own arousal. “I’m not.” 

“You are,” Theo growled as the handle of his blade squelched in your slick. “But by all means, keep lying to yourself. In fact, I quite prefer it if you put up a fight. I like it rough.” 

You groaned, delirious with need as he fucked you with his knife. “When I make you cum, I know that I’ve earned it.” 

You bit down on your bottom lip until blood filled your mouth. The horror of the scene unfolding before you filled you with dread yet you couldn’t stop the moans and whines that escaped past your lips. When you looked up, Theo was transfixed by the sight of your greedy cunt taking his knife.

“That’s it, Y/N,” hummed Theo. “This will be a lot easier if you just stop fighting it. You want this. You want me.” 

“I — I don’t! I don’t want —“ 

“I —I don’t want,” Theo mocked. “How fucking pathetic. You can’t even finish that sentence without moaning.” He pulled out his knife and slid two fingers in without warning. His cruel laugh echoed in the bedroom when the sound of your slick filled the silence. “If you don’t want me, then why are you riding my fingers like this, hm?” 

There was no answer as he plunged the hilt of his knife into you again, stretching and filling you in the most delicious way. His thumb rubbed your sensitive bundle of nerves in tantalizing circles, pushing you towards the edge of pleasure. 

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of an orgasm, but it couldn’t be helped. There was no stopping the intense pleasure that barrelled through your body. As you crested over the finish line, your vision went dark. The depravity of the act filled you with mortification and indignity. Theo, on the other hand, looked euphoric. 

“You’re so beautiful when you cum,” he whispered softly. 

You wanted to claw and scratch and hit him for the way he made you feel. Theo presented the knife to you with reverence. The blade was soaked in blood, but the hilt dripped with your cum. His tongue darted out and licked and lapped at your arousal with long, languid strokes as his eyes rolled back in euphoria. The way he moaned when he tasted you was obscene. 

“You taste so sweet,” Theo rasped in a choked groan. “Such a good girl for me.” 

This was beyond fucked up. 

Theo was beyond fucked up. 

You watched in alarm, waiting for disgust to overwhelm your senses, but it never came. Instead, your pussy clenched around nothing at the sight. What the fuck was wrong with you? 

Theo leaned over you, his brown curls brushing against your nose as he smirked. “Don’t I get a kiss as a reward for making you feel so good?” 

The absence of pleasure finally made you come to your senses. “Fuck you.” 

The depth of his blue eyes was swallowed by a void that threatened to suffocate you. The man before you transformed into a monster as he growled and held his knife against your throat. “Let me rephrase that,” he hissed as the blade nicked your skin. “If you don’t kiss me, I’ll slit your fucking throat.” 

You whimpered as the blade dug deeper into your neck, causing small droplets of blood to stain your sheets. Theo stared at you with malice, his face hovering a few inches from yours as he waited for your next move. His cool breath fanned over your skin while his lips ghosted over yours. 

“Please, Y/N?” Theo pouted as he blinked down at you through his thick, dark lashes. “Just one kiss, please.” 

It was apparent that he wanted you to make the first move. As if it would absolve him from this abhorrent act. As if it would exculpate him despite the threat he made on your life if you refused to comply. In some sick, twisted way, you knew that the second your lips touched his, Theo felt absolutely vindicated. 

The growl that crawled out of his throat was purely animalistic. It spoke of need, of desire, of lust that had simmered underneath the surface for far too long. The taste of you, soft and supple and sweet, was better than anything Theo could have ever imagined. His cock strained against his pants as he deepened the kiss, tongue sweeping over the seam of your lips to demand entrance. 

A part of you wanted to fight back, to pull away from him, but it was nearly impossible when he harshly grabbed your jaw and forced his way in. You opened for him reluctantly, but that was all he needed. Theo was the type of person to take a mile when given an inch. His hands roamed your body while his tongue massaged yours, moaning, panting, licking the roof of your mouth with unabashed glee. Theo squeezed your tits and gripped your hips and wrapped your legs around his waist. He felt like a dog in heat as he rutted himself against your clothed cunt. 

Fuck, he was so hard it hurt. 

Dazed and drunk with desire, Theo pulled away, his gaze sweeping over your kiss bitten lips and flushed cheeks. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” 

It was fucking horrible, horrendous, atrocious. You wanted the deepest pits of hell to open up and swallow you whole. Because that kiss had lit a fire in your belly despite your disgust for the man forcing himself on you. 

Before you could think twice, you reared back and spit right into his face. Theo blinked in surprise. You expected anger, but amusement greeted you instead. The motherfucker was enjoying this. 

“You’re a feisty thing, aren’t you?” Theo drawled as he unclasped his belt. The sight caused panic to grip you from all sides. “Don’t worry, principessa. I’ll fuck the fight right out of you. I will break you until you become the good girl that I know you can be.” 

“Theo please, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you sobbed and begged. “Don’t do this, please.” 

Theo chuckled darkly. “You’re not sorry,” he said as he cut your dress open with his blade. “But you will be.” 

Exposed and vulnerable, you struggled against your restraints as Theo trailed kisses down your torso. His lips were a searing brand against your skin, sucking and biting and marking your skin as though he was staking his claim on your body. His deft fingers unhooked your bra and his pupils were completely black as he ogled your chest. 

With his lips latched around your nipple, Theo blinked innocently up at you. “I’m so fucking in love with you,” he murmured as he flicked his tongue over the stiffened peak. “You make me crazy, Y/N.” 

You moaned as he sucked fervently, losing himself in the heat of your skin and the scent of your perfume. Roses and vanilla. Sweet and simple, just like his pretty girl. Theo groaned as he lavished your other nipple the same treatment. 

There was such reverence and awe in the way that he touched you. For a brief moment, you forgot how truly vile he was because the second his fingers slipped inside of you and curved against that sweet spot, every ounce of common sense abandoned you. 

“I bet Adrian would’ve never gotten you this wet, huh?”

Your eyes snapped open at the reminder. Somewhere underneath you, Adrian’s lifeless body was still bleeding out on your wooden floors. “You’re fucking awful — o —oh —“ 

The involuntary whimper that crawled up your throat was pathetic, but you couldn’t help it. Theo had ripped your panties to shreds and positioned the head of his cock over your folds, teasing and taunting at your entrance as you continued to resist. 

“Theo, Theo, please,” you pleaded as he began to breach your cunt. You kicked your legs in the air and tilted your hips away from him, anything to keep him away from you, but it didn’t work. 

Theo held your hips down, his large hands forming bruises on your skin. “Stay fucking still,” he growled against your neck before biting down hard. 

Shocked, you stopped struggling and cried as the sting broke skin. Theo took the opportunity to push the head of his cock inside of you, making your eyes water from the sheer length of him. He was too big, it didn’t fit, it fucking hurt. But the desperate pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears as Theo fully sheathed himself in your warmth. 

“So fucking tight,” Theo grunted as he slowly dragged his cock out of your pussy, entranced at the way your bodies melded together, watching your cunt clench around nothing before slamming all the way in. Your teeth clattered together from the force. “Dio mio, you feel so fucking good. I want to ruin you.” 

Once more, he pulled out and pushed into your warmth, savoring the way you squeezed around him. The sensation made you dizzy with desire. Try as you might to fight it, every breach of his cock only stretched and filled you even more, the filthy sound of your pussy squelching with every thrust echoing in the room. 

“Wanted this for so long,” Theo grunted. “You have no idea what it’s been like for me, cara mia.” His hips snapped against your ass while he drove deeper and deeper, thick cock kissing the tip of your cervix. “But now I finally get to have you all to myself.” 

Your knees buckled, every brush of his cock within your snug walls weakening your resolve as he fucked you into the mattress. His pace was relentless, punishing, and it was all you could do to lose yourself in him completely. 

“Don’t fight it, bella.” Theo murmured as he hiked your legs up over his shoulders. “I could be so good to you.” He punctuated his statement with a slam of his hips. “I know everything about you. Probably better than you know yourself. I’ve watched, I’ve waited, I’ve wanted.” Another slam caused you to writhe and arch your back off the bed. “No one else could ever love you like I do.” 

A breathy moan pushed its way past your lips without your consent. Self-loathing made you flush with embarrassment; your body was betraying you in the worst way as your own slick dripped down your thighs while Theo angled your hips to sink in deeper. He had spoken true about knowing you better than you knew yourself, because he seemed to know how to caress you, how to kiss you, how to command you until you were teetering off the edge once again. 

His long fingers circled your clit, stroking the sensitive bud in the exact same way that he had watched you touch yourself over the past few months. Theo was diligent in every sense of the word; his studious nature pushed him to perfection. The focus in which he devoted into pleasuring you was singular. He was obsessive and possessive; he was determined to make this good for you. His pretty girl deserved nothing but the best. 

“You can’t deny that we’re a perfect fit,” he murmured, dead-eyed gaze drinking in the sight of him slipping in and out of you. You tried to avert your gaze, but Theo gripped your chun and forced you to watch. “Look how well you’re taking me. It’s like we were made for each other, my love.”

Words failed you at the heat of the moment and even if you regained the ability to speak, you wouldn’t know what to say. Theo took your silence for submission, his lips pressed against yours, tongue sweeping over your bottom lip while he pounded into you. 

The instinct to fight dimmed with each urgent thrust, buried deep within the recesses of your mind. All you could do was moan in pleasure and Theo eagerly drank in every gasp and pant and whimper, studying your face as though he was committing every detail to memory.

“Please, please,” you panted. You weren’t quite sure whether you were begging him to stop or urging him to continue, but either way, Theo seemed to know exactly what you needed. 

His kisses were open mouthed and filthy, swallowing your protests with the flick of his tongue. You jerked when Theo slapped your pussy, chuckling against your mouth before he kneaded his thumb against your tender nub harder and faster. 

“Theo —“ The realization that your climax was near filled you with both excitement and indignation. 

“Be a good girl and come for me, Y/N.” 

You clenched as Theo squeezed your throat in his fist, momentarily robbing you of oxygen. Somehow its absence intensified the sensations. The combination of Theo pushing his cock into you again and again while his thumb stroked your clit harder and harder sent you barreling over the edge. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, making your legs shake and your walls spasm around his cock. 

“Oh fuck,” Theo cursed, his resolve close to breaking. “Just like that, cara mia. Squeezing me so tight, milking my fucking cock dry.” 

Stars burst behind your lids as his balls slapped against your clit, coaxing yet another orgasm out of you. Your mind went fuzzy with static. A faint ringing echoed in your ears while you trembled and convulsed. 

“Such a good girl,” Theo grunted as he chased after his own pleasure. You were limp and boneless underneath him, unable to respond save for a pathetic whimper. “I’m going to fill this pretty pussy up with my cum, bella. You’re going to let me, aren’t you?” 

You started to shake your head, but Theo paid the action no mind. “Take it, cara mia,” he said forcefully. “Take my cock, take my heart, take all of me.” 

Your tits jiggled as he fucked you through his own orgasm, his thrusts growing erratic as he spilled his thick, hot cum inside of you. His eyes rolled back at the thought of filling you and stuffing you full of his seed. It overflowed past your sensitive, puffy folds and dripped down your thighs. Even when he pulled his softening cock out of you, Theo made sure to push it all back in with his fingers. You whimpered at the sensitivity between your legs as he leaned back to admire his work. 

Theo seemed to take pity on you, tutting at the red circles around your wrist. “M’gonna take the cuffs off now, okay, bella?” 

You nodded, trembling slightly when he finally unchained you from the bed. Theo cooed over your raw wrists, kissing and fawning over the sensitive skin. Taking full advantage of the distraction, you snatched the knife Theo had carelessly discarded by his thigh and drove the blade into his shoulder. 

Theo hissed in surprise, his blue eyes widening. “You fucking stabbed me,” he declared incredulously. “You really fucking stabbed me.” 

“Oh my God —“ you sobbed, regret flooding you all at once as your hands shook over the blade. “Theo, I didn’t mean — fuck, are you okay —“ 

The shock caused you to let your guard down, tears streaming down your face as the realization of what you had just done crashed over you. Despite the blade sticking out from his shoulder, Theo seamlessly switched positions so that you were straddling his lap. 

Your right hand was frozen in place, still holding the blade while shaking violently. You expected anger and fear, but Theo only flashed you a lovesick smile as he wrapped his slender fingers around your wrist. “Don’t be shy, Y/N,” Theo teased. “You can do better than that, can’t you?” 

You screamed as Theo drove the blade further into his shoulder, the wound splattering a rain of blood all over your face and hair. “Stop, stop it! Don’t. Theo, stop, please —”

Theo tilted his head and examined you with a curious expression. His gaze softened as you sobbed and trembled in his lap. In his silky voice, he whispered soothing words in your ear and stroked your back to calm your growing hysteria. 

“Aw, you’re worried about me? That’s cute, bella.” The timbre of his voice almost sounded proud. “I wouldn’t waste your tears, though. I'll be fine. It’s just a silly little nick. Besides, now that I’ve had you, it won’t be that easy to get rid of me.”

You gasped as his hardness poked against your ass. How could he be fucking hard at a time like this? There was goddamn knife sticking out of his shoulder, for fuck’s sake!

“Look at you, crying over me.” His voice was husky with need as he rolled his erection against you. It seemed that not even a murder attempt could faze the man underneath you. If anything, Theo seemed turned on by it. God, he was so fucked up. “It’s a good sign, bella. It means that you care. To think, just moments ago, you said you hated me, but here you are concerned for my well being.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, refusing to listen to him speak. It only confused you more. Theo kissed your tears away and caressed your cheek. His violation of you earlier was a direct contradiction of the way he handled you with such gentleness and care, almost like you were something precious to him. You couldn’t reconcile the warring versions of him in your mind. 

“Please, stop,” you murmured as you tried to cover your ears. “You’re confusing me.”

“There’s nothing to be confused about,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Clearly, you care about me. Otherwise, you would have aimed for my heart.” 

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” you whispered in a broken sob. “I just wanted — I wanted —” 

In truth, you didn’t know what you wanted. It was all too traumatic and taxing to fully process. Theo pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Shh, hush now, principessa. I told you, I’ll take care of you. You never have to worry about anything ever again. You can trust me, I promise. I would never let anything or anyone hurt you. I’ll kill anyone who tries. I love you so fucking much.” 

Theo gently pried your wrists away and kissed your fingertips. “You don’t love me yet,” he admitted in a wistful tone. “But you will, bella.” 

[winnie1emon]

✧.* now what happens when you find a frustrated theodore nott on the quidditch pitch...?

theodore nott x prefect!lamb!reader (fem pov)

word count: approx. 2.4k

cw: MDNI!!, smut, dom!theo, innocent!reader, sexual language, praise, piv, fingering, unprotected sex, face painting lmao, slight exhibitionism(?)(on the quidditch stands lol)

a/n: first smut fic like ever i fear... don't bully please </3 + been working on this sleep-deprived, lmk about spelling mistakes :(

"Hey- hey!" you said loudly over the raging music, leaning over your friend's shoulder. "I'm gonna go; got prefect duty!"

Your friend, too engrossed in your house's quidditch victory party after they had beaten Slytherin earlier that evening, gave you a mere nod before realizing you actually said something. "Really? There are other prefects out anyways and you never find anyone. Don't be lame, just stay!"

"No, it's fine. I like walking outside anyways, it's fun," you explained, garnering a rather dismissive wave goodbye from your friend.

You trudged down the corridors searching for the way out of the castle. Curfew was approaching and you were given the task of finding a few stragglers outdoors; a task you most appreciated due to the fact you'd never find anybody and you were usually lucky with receiving ample amounts of good weather.

Too comfortable with the usual, you spent most of your patrol time frolicking on the grassy fields and never looked too carefully for any students. You were about to head back inside when you saw the broom shed's door open. Curiously, you peered inside and nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary...

A bit daunted, you closed the door and suddenly saw movement in the corner of your eye. You whipped around quickly, seeing someone flying on the quidditch pitch. You made your way into the pitch, assuming it was some overzealous lowerclassman riding on their broomstick.

As you made your way into the pitch, you realized how large it really was, somewhat awestruck. Hearing a distressed grunt, you turned around and saw the person who was flying, quite a distance away, chuck their broom onto the ground. You hastened over and the image came into view. Their brunette waves became clearer with each step you took and you managed to get their attention.

"H-hey!" You waved. You came to a stop in front of them, slightly huffing as they looked at you acutely. "Theodore, it's curfew in like... oh, two minutes ago."

Theodore raised an eyebrow at your words, seeming as if he had no idea who you were. "What?" he asked you, even though he heard what you said.

"It's past curfew, you can't be here," you said patiently. "What are you even doing here?"

"What's it look like?" he retorted. "Practicing," he added before you could answer his rhetoric question.

"Well... you should practice tomorrow. You already had that game today, you should take a break," you suggested.

He gave you what was probably the most condescending look ever, roaming over your figure. "Yeah, and we lost, princess. Need to practice."

"Don't overwork yourself," you said, your voice tinged with concern. "You were great today, I saw!"

"Mhm, probably cheering on your house, yeah?" he sneered. "Just get lost, I'm not harmin' anyone by practicing, but you're going to tell someone aren't you?" He looked a bit taut and you couldn't help but feel a bit of pity for him. After all, he wasn't the worst player on his team yet he was the only one here practicing, probably losing hairs in the process.

"No, I won't tell anyone," you said quickly. "You look exhausted though. At least sit down." You trailed all the way to one of the tall wooden towers going up to the quidditch spectator stands, feeling the wooden bench poke your thighs. Surprisingly, he sat beside you on your right with a grunt, running his hands through his hair.

Well, now what.

You peered at him in wonderment as his gaze was set straight, admiring his birthmark. Your eyes trailed around the side of his face, looking at his thick, dark brows and then at his slightly unkempt hair. He turned suddenly to face you and you darted your head away, embarrassed. He let out a small scoff, throwing his head down in a smirk.

"So," you started. "You like quidditch?" you asked dumbly. He obviously did... he plays.

"I do," he responded. "When we win."

"You guys almost did," you consoled him, tentatively reaching to rub his shoulder.

Theodore didn't protest, finding the way your palm's touch warmed his shoulder unexpectedly comforting. He looked at your seemingly apologetic face before his eyes wandered down your form, going from your neck and then down to your legs.

"Mm, almost."

Fidgeting with your fingers, you spoke up again. "Yeah, almost! Almost is good!" You reassured him. "Don't beat yourself up-- you're already so stressed." You recalled the instances in class where he'd focus on his work, the times you saw him in the library as you patrolled the halls, and the way he never seemed to hang out with his friends this past week.

"Oh princess," he said, calling you that nickname again, making you turn a light shade of pink. "When has almost winning ever helped anyone? What can I do about the stress? Nothing's going to change if I don't work." He gave a nonchalant shrug, breaking contact with your sorry eyes as he buried his head in his hands.

"Uhm... I mean, do you want help?" You peered at him, wide-eyed and full of pity.

--------------------------------------------------------

And that's how you found yourself sitting on the open quidditch stands, thighs squeezed together with your head downcast as Theodore rubbed lazy circles over your underwear.

"I-I don't really see how this is supposed to help you," you mumbled.

He used his other hand to hold your chin gently, guiding your head to face him. "You think seeing a pretty girl like you lookin' like this doesn't help me?" he simpered. You felt your face heat up from the compliment, shifting your thighs to press against each other some more.

He let go of your chin and you looked down to watch him spread your thighs apart gently. Despite never being his friend, his touch felt familiar, even soothing. In fact, you didn't protest against him, even when you felt him slip your underwear to the side and insert a thick finger into your cunt.

Your mouth agape, you turned to look at him, brows knitting together as he met your gaze with a lascivious smile. You pressed your lips together to try and catch your breath, but it only lasted a few seconds as your lips parted once he entered another digit into you. He moved slowly, not taking his eyes off of yours, drinking in your dazed look.

You felt his pace increase, his fingers going in and out of your now glossy cunt rapidly, and let out a shaky moan which made Theodore's mouth contort in a wicked smile. You threw your head back, looking up at the greying sky. He leaned closer to you, his warm breath hitting your ear as he whispered.

"Feels good, yeah? Feels good to help me decompress hm?" He asked you quietly, having you squirm from his touch. You nodded meekly and let out a small yeah in response.

You had never experienced anything like this before. You were sort of scared, but also excited... maybe a bit confused? ...happy to help?

His touch eventually slowed, his two now-soaked fingers leaving your cunt as he held them up in front of you. Your eyes followed his fingers, your face turning into that of surprise as he brought his fingers into his mouth momentarily.

"So sweet..." he breathed out. "Come on, open up," he slapped your cheek lightly with his clean hand.

You opened your mouth slightly, your eyes looking reluctant.

"Come on, don't be scared," he cooed. You opened a little wider and he gently placed the two fingers on your tongue. You swirled your tongue around slowly, tasting sweet, kind of salty as well, but you weren't sure if that was you or his fingers. Taking in your appearance with his fingers in your mouth, he gave a breathy chuckle. "Cute."

He stood up from the bench with a sigh, taking a step in front of you. "Just one more thing, that okay?" he asked, the corners of his mouth curving into a smile.

"Yeah- yeah sure," you agreed. Even though you were unfamiliar with what you guys were doing, you were just glad you could help him out in some way.

"Good girl. --Has anyone told you how sweet you are?" He leaned forward slightly and cupped your cheeks to tilt your head upwards as you stayed seated on the bench.

"Some people, mhm," you nodded.

"Well, they weren't lying." He complimented you casually, making your stomach lurch in an oddly pleasant way. You adverted your gaze so you could soak in his compliment, your head then snapping up at the sound of a zipper. He gave you a wink that you'd be thinking about for the next week and a dazzling smile that you couldn't protest against.

He guided your legs up off the ground so you'd be kneeling on the stands bench and turned you around, having you facing opposite of the center of the quidditch pitch, towards the castle. Your eyes widened from the circumstances, the risk of being so exposed. You heard him shuffle a little behind you, the sound of his pants going down, boxers following.

You felt one of his cold fingers brush against your skin as he pushed your skirt up, making you shudder. He pulled your sodden underwear down and you heard him take a sharp inhale. His fingers ran over your folds, eliciting a groan from him. "You're so wet... n' you've never done this?" he asked you.

You shook your head, making him sigh.

"And you really want to give this to me?"

"Yeah, I do," you muttered quietly. You didn't care that it was Theodore, you just saw him as someone who needed some help and you were going to give it to them... Oh, who were you kidding? Of course you cared that it was Theodore. The Slytherin that you'd always catch yourself ogling at during the quidditch games, the one you'd stare at in potions, the guy you'd hold the door open for before Charms class.

Seeing no reason to delay his pleasure, Theodore positioned himself between your legs, holding your waist from behind as he pushed the tip of his cock into your ready cunt. You couldn't help the large gasp you let out while he stretched you out. You tried to recuperate momentarily, but he continued to enter you slowly, feeling as if there was no end.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he murmured. He slid in and out of you slowly, picking up the pace over time before you started to let out involuntary moans.

"Theo- Theodore," you huffed out, almost whining. "The castle-- someone could see us," you worried.

His pace becoming incontinent, he brushed off your concern with ease. "No one will, okay?"

Even with his reassurance, you couldn't help but feel sheepish, your anxiety spiking as the thrill got to you.

"Oh my g-god," you moaned. Theodore leaned into your back, head resting on the nape of your shoulder. He snaked his arm on your other shoulder, putting you in a headlock. You brought your hands up to hold his arm, your mind going blank as he started up a relentless speed on you and had his other arm travel down to rub on your clit.

"Shh, shh," he whispered. "Now they will see us if you don't quiet down, yeah?" You nodded in agreement, understanding that you mustn't be loud. After a few minutes of biting back your moans as he drilled into you, he positioned you to lie on your back, on one of the benches. You complied and allowed him to reposition himself into you.

"F-fuck!" You mewled, unable to contain yourself in the new position.

"Shh, shh, shhh..." he shushed you once again, covering your mouth with a large hand as the other held both of your legs against his chest. "Be quiet for me, okay? You can do it," he murmured into your ear, leaning forward to kiss your cheek.

You nodded slowly as you looked up at him when he pulled his head away from you. "Good... so good."

So entranced by his eye contact, your brain drowned out the sounds of his cock going in and out of your sopping cunt, forgetting all about your precarious surroundings.

You felt the knot in your stomach begin to unravel and you knew that your orgasm was nearing. You clawed at Theodore's hand that was on your mouth and he let go, allowing your ragged gasps to float out into the air.

"You okay?" he asked you. "You close?" He couldn't help but smile endearingly at your state, horribly disheveled, biting your own lip to keep yourself from attracting attention.

"Mm," you nodded weakly, feeling your legs begin to shake. As you came undone, you felt him slow down, letting out groans of his own. You bit down on your lips harder and you could feel tears creeping into your eyes as you felt overloaded with sensations. He pulled out of you with a light pop and stepped towards your head.

He had his cock a few inches above your face and looked hesitant before asking, "May I?"

You honestly weren't very sure of what he was requesting, but you let out a soft yeah, being surprised once he spilled onto your face.

Your lips parted into an o-shape as you squinted slightly. After one last drop, you ran a finger on your cheek, observing the mark he left on you trailing down your finger. He dropped his hands to his side and crouched down to be face level with you. He cupped your face with his hands as he ushered you to sit up.

"You're a sweetheart, so nice of you to help," he praised. Even though he had just done things to you that you'd never even been brave enough to imagine an hour prior, you couldn't fight back the bashful look on your face.

"Of course," you whispered. "Do you feel better?" you asked, pulling your underwear back up.

"Yeah, yeah I do," he chortled. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

You saw the sky darkening by the second and looked out the pitch. "Oh! Someone's coming!" you exclaimed.

He gave a mischievous smile that you could stare at for days, planted a quick kiss on your lips, and grabbed your hand to stand you up, brushing ur skirt down to cover your behind.

"Then let's go."

―――――――――ʚ♡ɞ―――――――――

[riddleswhcre]

────۶ৎ specialty order: YOU

the coffee isn’t the reason you keep coming back. you just haven’t realised it yet.

warnings: dead dove: do not eat vibes, smut, dub-con, stalking, breaking and entering, possessive/obsessive, marking, biting, breeding kink, praise/degradation, slight blood mention (implied violence).

au more

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

the café feels like a dream. tucked away in a quiet london street, lights low and warm, the bitter smell of coffee clinging to the air.

you find it by accident. or maybe, theo would argue, it found you.

he's there every time. leaning lazily against the counter, curls a little messy, sleeves rolled up to reveal arms dusted in flour. that soft italian lilt wrapping around his words like velvet.

"caffè solito, bella?" he asks before you even open your mouth, and you laugh because it feels sweet. normal.

it isn't.

you don't see the way his eyes never leave you. the way his knuckles whiten when someone else even dares look in your direction. you don't notice how your favourite table is always free. how your cup is always cleaner, warmer, than anyone else's.

you don't notice how you stopped choosing this café and started needing it.

you don't notice him.

until you bring a date.

some boy you barely know, laughing over a cheap glass of wine, sitting in your seat.

theo smiles when he takes your order. polite. professional. charming.

"qualcosa di speciale per voi due?"

his voice is smooth, easy. his eyes are not. they flick to your date and back again. sharp. assessing. judging.

your date stumbles over his order. you think it's nerves. it isn't.

you don't see the way theo watches him leave later, how his hands flex at his sides, how his teeth sink into the inside of his cheek to keep from doing something stupid.

you don't see theo slip out early that night.

you get home, keys jangling in your hand, wine buzzing under your skin.

you don't notice at first. not until you push open your bedroom door.

he's sitting on your bed. sleeves rolled up, shirt half undone, chest rising and falling steady and slow.

his collar is speckled dark. something sticky and red drying at his cuffs.

"buonasera, bella," he murmurs, voice a low, dangerous purr.

your heart stops.

"theo—how did you—"

he smiles. soft. patient. deadly.

"you left the door open."

(you didn’t.)

he's on you before you can run.

fingers curling tight into your hair, dragging your head back, mouth hot and greedy on your neck.

"shouldn’t have brought him here," theo snarls against your skin, teeth scraping, biting hard enough to make you whimper. "stupid little thing. you don’t even know what you do to me, do you?"

you try to push him back, gasp his name, but he just laughs, deep and dark, pressing his body flush against yours.

"s'alright, bella," he breathes, voice sticky-sweet and poisonous. "i’ll forgive you. i'll make you remember who you fucking belong to."

he’s rough, manhandling you onto the bed like you weigh nothing, tearing your clothes away with impatient hands.

you’re trembling—fear, adrenaline, want—you don’t even know anymore.

he strips you bare, fingers bruising your thighs as he spreads you open, baring you to his hungry, dark eyes.

"look at you," he growls. "fucking perfect. all mine."

he undoes his trousers with one hand, pulling his cock free—already hard, leaking at the tip. thick. flushed. angry red.

he fists the base, smearing precum along the length with slow, deliberate strokes, eyes never leaving yours.

"you gonna be good for me, bella?" he purrs, rubbing the tip against your soaked cunt, smearing wetness over your folds. "gonna let me take what's mine?"

you whimper, nodding without thinking.

that’s all he needs.

he pushes in with a rough, brutal snap of his hips, forcing your walls to stretch wide around him, your head falling back with a strangled cry.

"fuck, that’s it," theo groans, head tipping back. "tight little cunt. knew you'd feel like heaven."

he doesn’t give you time to adjust. doesn’t give you space to breathe.

he pounds into you, deep and fast, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room, filthy and raw.

"mine," he growls, biting down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise, to leave proof. "mine, mine, mine."

his hands roam your body, possessive, greedy—marking every inch of skin he can touch.

his fingers dig into your hips, bruising, holding you down as he fucks you harder, rough thrusts forcing little sobs out of your throat.

"gonna cum inside you, bella," he pants, voice breaking. "gonna fill you up so good. gonna make sure you remember who you fucking belong to."

your cunt flutters around him, clenching desperately, your orgasm slamming into you hard and fast.

theo feels it. groans deep in his chest.

he doesn’t pull out. doesn’t slow down.

he buries himself to the hilt, tipping over the edge with a broken snarl, thick ropes of cum spilling deep inside you, warm and sticky and endless.

he stays there, grinding his hips slow, fucking his cum deeper, making sure you’re full of him. marked. ruined. his.

"that’s it, bella," he murmurs against your throat, pressing lazy, possessive kisses to your skin. "took it so good for me. always knew you would."

you lie there, wrecked, trembling, dripping, his cum leaking out of you with every tiny shift of your hips.

and theo just smiles. smug. satisfied. utterly unhinged.

"only me," he breathes, dragging his lips across your ear. "always, always only me."

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated.

[voidofsunlight]

LINKS: 🧸 my C.ai profile! // 📜 my main masterlist! // 🫂 Click here to send me a request or message

Theodore Nott

Game night with Roommate!Theodore

Living with Theo is like sharing space with controlled chaos. Most of the time, he’s calm—until it’s game night. Quiet—until he’s clattering around the kitchen at 2AM making pasta. He’s messy, but somehow always fixes what breaks. He’ll forget to answer your texts for days but remember your favorite drink without fail. He doesn’t say he cares, but he always shows up. Unpredictable, low-key infuriating, and yet, weirdly, the most comforting part of the apartment.

Tonight, fast food sits forgotten on the table. Theo’s sprawled across the couch, legs stretched out, beer sweating onto the coaster you had to force him to use. Controller in hand, head tilted just enough to suggest he’s already bored. The screen flashes. The race begins. He barely moves—loose grip, confident posture, effortless. You throw a blue shell his way.

“Ma dai, that’s all you got?” he says with a snort. “Bold. Stupid, but bold.”

You pass him. For a second, it looks like you might win. He blinks, takes a slow sip of beer.

“Okay. Va bene. I was being nice.” He shifts in his seat. “Time to humble you a little.”

In seconds, he’s ahead again. Just like that, the gloves come off.

“No, no—don’t look at the controller. It’s not broken, sei tu il problema.”

Now he’s leaning forward, elbows on knees, smirk dialed up. Trash talk pours out, half in English, half in perfectly clipped Italian that somehow stings more.

“I should stream this. Live: una tragedia.”

He wins, naturally. Puts the controller down with a dramatic flourish, stretches like it was a real workout.

Then—miraculously—you win one.

Just one.

Theo freezes. Eyes on the screen. Silent. Then, without a word, he stands, walks to the balcony, cigarette already between his fingers. A flick, a drag, a long exhale into the night.

Ten minutes pass.

He returns with his beer and the controller, sits down like nothing happened.

“Warm-up’s over, cara mia” he says. “Now I play for real.”

PLEASE DO NOT COPY / TRANSLATE OR REPOST AS YOUR OWN!

©Voidofsunlight

[agirlsguidetolove]

I THOUGHT YOU KNEW

pairings: theodore nott x reader

word count: 0.9k

summary: “i thought you knew?” “you thought i knew we were dating?” “yes!” “how would i know that, nott, you never told me.”

Theodore Nott had dead eyes. That was something you had learned early on in your friendship with the boy; never expect his eyes to tell you anything. But, right now, you couldn’t help but wonder if your own advice was wrong because the look he was giving you in the moment was the farthest thing to dead. Alive.

Theodore’s eyes were ablazed, like you had lit a match in his face just as he had done with his cigarettes the night before. They looked on fire as he glared off at you, standing and chatting with some Ravenclaw boy who had decided to make the stupid of going to a slytherin party and talking to Theo’s girl.

It was a common fact that you and Theo had something, everyone knew. Well, maybe except for you.

Maybe that’s why you hadn’t expected for Theodore to waltz up to you and your new friend and throw an arm over your shoulder, and stand and listen to you too talk, not saying a word.

“Think we should get out of here?” Was the first thing he said to you, well, whispered into your ear, pulling you closer.

“I’m okay here, Teddy,” you said. Theo visible softened, melting into you at the nickname only you were allowed to call him. “You can go, though. I’ll be alright, promise.”

Theo smiled at you as you patted his arm that was wrapped around your shoulder, watching as your attention drifted back to whoever this guy was. He sighed.

“I know,” Theo started before your Ravenclaw friend interrupted.

“Yeah, mate, we’ll be okay,” he said. Theo hardened, dead eyes becoming colder as he took his arm off your shoulder, stepping forward and shoving the guy.

“Was I fucking talking to you, mate?” he spit.

“Woah!” you cut, pulling Theo back with your hand to his chest, “What the hell, Theo?”

“Yeah,” the Raveclaw pants. “What the hell, Nott? Calm down!”

Theodore sneers, glaring harshly ate the boy before hissing, “Fuck off,” and pushing past him and bumping his shoulder aggressively as he makes his way out of the common room.

Staring of at his fuming figure you quickly apologize to the boy before chasing off after Theo. When you find him, he’s angrily pacing through the hallway, running a hand through his hair.

“Theo,” you state angrily. Theo’s head whips to where you stand before shaking his head and choosing to walk away from you and down the hall.

“Theo!” you yell, walking quickly behind him. “What the fuck was that about? Can you wait for a second and talk to me?”

Theo stops, allowing you to catch up to him. You can practically see the steam coming out when he turns to you. “What am I supposed to do?” he asks bitterly. “Just let him flirt with you?”

“What?” you ask, just as bitter. “What are you talking about? Why’d you have to fucking shove, Dylan?”

Dylan. Theodore scoffs, getting madder by the second. He takes a step closer, towering over you. “So I’m just supposed to stand there when some prick is running up on my girlfriend!”

Girlfriend? What the hell was he on about. “Girlfriend?” you question, softer.

“Yes! You’re my girlfriend!” Theodore shouted. He just wasn’t getting it, was he?

“What?” you spluttered. “Since when?”

“What,” Theo got quieter.

“i didn’t know…” you said. “when did we start dating?…o-officially?”

“You didn’t know?” he repeated, incredulous. “I… I thought… I thought you knew?”

“You thought I knew we were dating?” You were getting louder, voice echoing off the walked.

“Yes!” Theo yelled, eyes getting sadder.

“How would I know that, Nott, you never told me!”

Theodore shakes his head, again getting gentle. “Don’t start calling me ‘Nott’ now, angel, you don’t do that.”

“Theo,” you reiterated, taking a breath. “When did we— when did we start ‘dating’.”

Theo looks like a kicked puppy when he says, “Last trip to Hogsmeade. We kissed.”

Looking at the ground, you say, “Just because we kissed doesn’t mean we’re dating.”

“To me, it did!”

“You kiss plenty of girls that you’re not dating!” you argue.

Theo scoffs, “They’re not you, now are they?”

“Teddy,” you say, tears quickly forming in your eyes. Looking up at him, he purses his lips, heart breaking in his chest. “Why couldn’t you have just asked me to be your girlfriend?”

“Love, I… I thought you knew, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” you swallow, hugging yourself with your own arms, still holding in your tears. “Well, I didn’t.”

It’s silent between you both for a moment, nothing but you staring at the floor and Theo staring at you. Theo takes a small step forward, his hands touching where you hold yourself. “Would you?” he says, “Be my girlfriend, if I asked?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, looking up at him, “if you’d ask, you dick.”

Theo chuckles, dipping his head low and putting his lips against yours. His lips are so soft, despite how he tastes like liquor and cigarettes. He breaks apart from you, hand coming to caress your cheek. “Would you be my girlfriend?”

“Yes, I would.”

not proof read 🧸

i 🫶 theo nott

[lov3notts-recs]

HELLL YEAHHH ADD ME TO THE TAG LIST CUZ THIS WAS FUCKEN HOTTTTTTTTT

sniff, stroke, repeat

pairing. brother's bsf! theo x reader content/mdni. brother’s bsf! theo, degenerate! theo, unhinged! theo, sub! theo energy (he's losing it), pent-up! theo, fem! reader, enemies-to-lovers tension, solo masturbation (m), pantie stealing, pantie sniffing, cum play, obsession, scent kink (?), allusions to overstimulation, allusions to oral (f receiving), p in v implied/remembered, smut with little plot word count. 1.2k a/n. this happens after my full theo fic! i recommend reading that first, but it does make sense as a standalone as well. let me know what you think!

it was rare for theo to say no to a party. even as mattheo asks him one last time, on his way out of theo’s place, if he’s sure he wants to stay at home tonight, theo only weakly smiled at him.

“must be one hell of a virus, huh?” he heard mattheo mutter as he finally closed the front door shut, joining the other guys and departing for the party.

the strong clank of the door echoed through the area like a green light. theo was finally home alone, and he was grateful than ever for that.

“fuck, it’s so bad…”

the words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them, voice deep with amazement, he himself astounded by the state he was in. tossing away the pillow he has been keeping in his lap all this time, he was now face to face with his grey sweatpants.

and the hardest fucking boner he’d ever had in his entire life.

he wasn’t sick; he wouldn’t call this sickness.

being strangely jumpy and overstimulated could be signs of a flu. nonetheless, getting uncontrollably rock hard these past few days had nothing to do with it.

but he couldn’t tell mattheo the truth.

another kind of virus attacked him a few days back, plaguing his mind with nasty thoughts and making his cock ache with arousal more frequently than before. a sexy annoying virus, who rode the shit out of him and made him see stars. a virus with gorgeous tits and a hungry little cunt–

shit, he could no longer think straight.

closing his eyes and scrunching his face in annoyance, he dragged his hand against his face, trying to scrub away the sensual images of you.

but to no avail.

that night is deeply engraved in his mind, and, no matter what he did, he was constantly flashed with shameless scenes of you.

“that minx took my mind…”

a frustrated groan left his lips, irritated that you had such an effect on him. his groan was closely followed by a gasp of pleasure — his other hand dipped beneath the waistband of his pants, his palm making contact with bare skin.

“i hate her so much.”

hissing between his teeth, he grasped the length of his cock between shaky fingers. the underside was already sticky with precum, a thick trail seeping from his angry tip down to his very base.

it was a good idea to cover up with a pillow; otherwise, mattheo and the others would have seen the big patch of wetness on his sweats.

“she’s an annoying bitch–”

with slow, but sure strokes, theo began pumping his hand up and down his shaft. his words, cruel and venomous, were thrown out in the air in an attempt to convince himself that he did not like you at all.

which was quite ironic, considering he was jerking off to the thought of you.

“–nasty girl, taking these pictures–”

yeah, those pictures.

he managed to steal that polaroid of your tits from your grabby hands without much effort; you were exhausted after riding him so good, so you did not put up much of a fight. that image was now sealed nicely in his wallet, a token of his first night with you.

and if you asked past theo, he would have pronounced that polaroid as his most prized possession.

but now? oh no, he had something better.

finally removing his hand from his face, he trailed it downwards across his body, until it reached his sweats. but instead of joining his other hand, it trailed further down into his pocket.

pulling out a flimsy pair of panties.

and not just any pair… it’s the exact one you wore that night. the lovely colour of your lacey thong was stained with dry patches of arousal — a mix of your and his cum.

“–and this slutty thong.”

pinching the band of the thong with his digits, he spread the material as much as possible to better examine it. this pair stayed so close to your pussy being rammed by his cock, collecting all that sticky cum and getting more drenched than your sheets.

“fuuck, she was so wet and warm…”

his hand was speeding up at the sudden reminder, clenching stronger around his dick and fisting with desperation.

his hand was tight and slippery, but it was nothing compared to your sweet sweet cunt. he wanted to feel you again so bad — to grope at your perky tits and taste them on his tongue… to fuck up into your tight pussy as you thrust back into him like a good girl…

to drown in your scent and forget himself completely.

“i wanna taste her.”

your threat of sitting on his face if he misbehaves has been looming in the back of his mind for these past few days. just imagining your soft thighs squishing his head, your cunt pressed deliciously against his slimy tongue, your clit digging in his nose–

your panties. he had your panties.

“fuck it.”

clenching his hand around your panties, gathering the pair into a fist, he brought it to his nose. and, without a second thought, he took a strong whiff.

deep. hungry. depraved.

“oh my fucking god!”

his hand gripped his cock with renewed vigor, harsher, harder, rougher… mimicking the tightness of your pussy for his shaft to fuck back into it.

you were there, he could feel you — squeezing him like a vice.

you were there, he could smell you — so delicious.

your aroma flooded his senses with each press of your thong into his nostrils, his head lolling backwards from the overwhelming feeling of his approaching orgasm.

it was humiliating, really. one night with you. one fucking night with you made him act like a horny little teenager, popping a boner constantly and jerking off every moment of the day.

and even worse, for him to act like a degenerate, pressing your panties to his face and sniffing your aroma like a pervert…

“should’ve never let me have you. should’ve known i’d get addicted–”

theo was whining against your panties, his hand pushing them closer and closer against his nose. his hips were flying away from the couch now, thrusting faster into his fist, chasing his release.

“n–next time i am drowning in that puss– fuckkk”

next time he sees you he would crack your legs open and eat you out until you cry. he would rut into your bedsheets like a dog– would probably even cum in his pants like a loser.

but that doesn’t matter. he doesn’t matter.

“i am so fucked.”

was the last thing theo said before cumming all over his hand, his fingers drenched in creamy arousal. some of his release splashed onto his sweats and shirt as well, the muted grey turning even darker with each rope of cum landing on the material.

“what a mess.” he said between ragged breaths, finally removing the thong from his face.

his clothes were a complete mess, and so was he. his hair was tousled, his eyes blown-out with lust. lips wet and shaking, panting for air. legs twitching like hell, still overwhelmed by his orgasm.

but his cock was still standing firm between his fingers, pulsing harder than ever with need.

“i hate her, i hate her, i hate her–”

he chanted between whines, almost crying. latching your panties around his shaft, theo resumed his sloppy thrusts.

“i hate her, i hate h–”

a new splurge of cum already stained the lacy thong, joining the dry stains from before. and more was to come.

“hate her, hate her–“

he was uncurable.

tags: @downbad4reid, @cafechichay

[theosang3ls]

Not the Man I Loved

pairing: Theodore Nott x Female!Reader

warnings: heartbreak, swearing, angst and crying

summary: It was supposed to be the happiest day of your life — the dress, the laughter, the vows. But when he knocks on your door hours before the ceremony, everything shifts.

A/N: English is not my first language! If there are any grammatical errors please let me know! Enjoy<3

𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You were nearly ready. Your wedding gown clung to your frame like a whisper of silk and promise, its delicate embroidery catching the soft light that filtered through the windows. Your makeup was perfect — the kind of flawless that felt both unreal and empowering — and your smile stretched wide with joy, the kind of joy that blooms only when you’re about to marry the person you’ve loved since you were seventeen. Laughter echoed through the room as you and your bridesmaids danced around in a whirlwind of perfume, music, and shared secrets. Every curl pinned, every earring clasped was part of the ritual —a sacred, beautiful chaos before the calm of the aisle.

Then, a knock. Not just a knock —a desperate, uneven thud against the door that sliced through the giddy atmosphere like a blade. Your maid of honour paused, exchanging a quick, puzzled glance with the others before hurrying to open it. You were still in front of the mirror, delicately inspecting your lipstick, fingers trembling slightly with excitement.

The door swung open. And there he was —Theodore Nott, your soon-to-be husband, standing on the threshold with panic clinging to him like a storm cloud.

“What are you doing here?” your maid of honour hissed, eyes narrowing. “You’re not supposed to see her —it’s bad luck!”

Theo barely seemed to hear her. His gaze scanned the room until it landed on you. “Who is it?” you called out, distractedly checking the shimmer on your cheekbones.

“It’s me,” came his voice —low, familiar, laced with tension and his unmistakable Italian lilt.

Your heart stuttered. You turned, clutching the mirror’s edge. “Theo?” you called, breath catching. “What’s wrong?”

You moved instinctively, hiding your dress from his view — you wanted the first time he saw you like this to be at the end of the aisle, when everything would fall into place. But something in his eyes told you things were already unraveling.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, voice rough. “Alone.”

Time seemed to slow. You exhaled shakily and nodded to your bridesmaids, who shuffled out reluctantly, casting worried glances back at you.

“What’s going on?” you asked, voice tight, eyes searching his face for reassurance that never came.

He stood there, the weight of something unspoken crushing his posture, his breath shallow.

“We can’t do this,” he said.

The words shattered the room.

You froze, your eyes locked on his, lips parting slightly as if the air had been knocked from your lungs. “What?” It came out barely audible — a thought accidentally voiced.

“We need to call off the wedding,” he said, quieter now, but each word landed like a blow.

The makeup brush clattered to the floor, but neither of you moved. The room that was once filled with music and laughter now felt like a vacuum —silent, suffocating.

You stared at him, your chest rising and falling in uneven waves as you tried to find some logic, some thread of reason in his words. But he just stood there, shoulders hunched, hands clenched at his sides, eyes not quite meeting yours.

“This has to be a joke,” you whispered, as though saying it aloud might make it true. “Tell me you’re nervous. That it’s cold feet, or your father said something stupid again—”

“It’s not,” he cut in, voice hollow. “It’s not any of that.”

You took a step forward, the hem of your dress whispering against the floor, dragging the weight of your heartbreak behind you. “Then what is it Theo?”

He shook his head, a hand running through his hair with such force it looked painful. “I just… I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

The silence thickened, pressing against your ribs. You blinked, and tears spilled freely now, mascara painting tiny streaks on your cheeks, as if that simple act could clear away the haze beginning to wrap around you.

“Tell me Theo,” you whispered, voice trembling. You took a step towards him, the fabric of your gown trailing behind you like the life you were supposed to step into. “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t marry the guy who gave me his sweatshirt every time I was cold. Who for four years now looked me in the eye and told me he loved me.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, but he said nothing.

“Why shouldn’t I marry the guy who risked detention to steal potions from Snape because I was too exhausted to study? The one who learned all the constellations just to impress me in the Astronomy Tower. The one who swore—swore—he’d never leave me.”

Your voice cracked on the last word, tears sliding down your cheeks like they had been waiting for permission. Theo ran a hand over his face, exhaling a sharp, shaky breath. “Because I’m not that guy anymore.”

The words landed like a knife to the chest.

You stared at him — really looked at him — and it hit you like a second heartbreak: he was right. He wasn’t.

And maybe, deep down, you had known for a while.

You remembered the time he forgot your anniversary —not because he was busy, but because he simply didn’t care enough to remember. The way he started answering your texts hours later, his replies short, cold, efficient. The nights he used to stay on the phone with you until you fell asleep had slowly turned into unanswered calls and excuses. You remembered how his eyes stopped lighting up when he saw you walk into a room —how his touch, once instinctive, had started to feel like a formality.

But you brushed it off. Every time.

You told yourself he was tired. Stressed. Distracted. That love didn’t always look like butterflies and warm hands. You held on to the boy who once wrote your initials into the fogged-up windows of the Hogwarts Express, not the man who now stood before you with his heart already halfway out the door.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, wet with disbelief. “No,” you said slowly. “You’re not.” The pain twisted into anger —not loud or wild, but cold and quiet, the kind that makes your voice turn sharp and your hands go still.

“You’re not the boy who walked me to my dorm in the rain after Quidditch practice, even when you were half-asleep on your feet. You’re not the man who stayed up with me when I couldn’t sleep. You’re not that man anymore.”

You took another step back, and suddenly he looked so small. So far away.

“I don’t even recognise you,” you whispered, a tremor of fury beneath your grief. “You’ve become everything you once promised me you’d never be — distant. Dismissive. Afraid.”

His mouth opened as if to speak, to explain, but nothing came. Just silence and shame.

“You told me that real love meant staying —showing up when it was hard, not just when it was beautiful. And now, right before everything we’ve built becomes real, you vanish.”

More tears fell, but your voice was steady now, burning with clarity. “You know what?” you said suddenly, your voice slicing through the suffocating silence that had taken root in the room. “You’re right.” Your hands flew up in a bitter gesture, your eyes wild with disbelief. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Your voice shook with fury — raw, volcanic, the kind that bubbles up from somewhere deep, where heartbreak and betrayal collide. “The wedding’s off,” you hissed, and though you tried to sound certain, the words cracked as they left your mouth.

Tears blurred your vision. A sob caught in your throat — sharp, messy, real — but you swallowed it down, standing straighter than you felt. “Get out,” you whispered, the final plea of someone holding herself together by splinters.

He stood idle, he hesitated. Maybe to apologize. Maybe to beg. But it was too late for maybe.

“I said get out, Theodore.”

And this time, he listened, he walked out slowly and quietly, like a man realizing too late that he had just walked away from the best thing he ever had.

𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

A/N: not sure if I like this one, but I hope you did!

masterlist

!Reblogs and Likes are highly appreciated¡

…until next time lovelies💋

[theosbae]

theo + morning wood

the sun barely filters through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. the soft hum of the world waking up outside contrasts with the warmth of the bed, the slow rise and fall of theo’s chest against your back.

he stirs before you do, his arm tightening around your waist, pulling you closer. his breath is hot against your neck, lazy and deep, still half-asleep as he presses himself against you.

you feel it immediately—hard and heavy against the curve of your ass, the unmistakable proof of his morning arousal.

a smirk tugs at your lips. “already?” your voice is thick with sleep, teasing, but you don’t move away.

theo groans, nuzzling into your shoulder, his voice rough and gravelly. “can’t help it.” his hand slides under your shirt, fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against your skin. “you’re warm. soft. always feel so fucking good.”

his hips roll forward, just enough to make you shiver.

you press back against him, just to tease, but the way his grip tightens, the way his breath hitches, it flips something inside of you.

“gonna take care of me?” his lips brush against your ear, voice barely above a whisper, thick with sleep and want.

your stomach flutters, heat pooling low in your belly as you reach back, guiding him between your thighs. he groans at the wetness waiting for him, hips rutting against you with more urgency.

“fuck, baby—”

he doesn’t even bother pulling your underwear off, just pushes them aside, the head of his cock sliding through your slick folds, teasing.

you whimper, pressing back against him, and that’s all it takes, he sinks in slow, stretching you open inch by inch, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he buries himself to the hilt.

“shit,” theo exhales, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, his fingers gripping your hip so tight you know you’ll feel it later.

he doesn’t rush. doesn’t need to.

his thrusts are slow, deep, lazy, like he’s savoring the way you feel around him.

your fingers clutch the sheets, your breath hitching with every roll of his hips. “theo—”

he hushes you, lips pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to the side of your neck, his free hand sneaking under your shirt to palm at your chest.

“feels so good like this,” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep and pleasure.

you can only nod, your body melting into his, the slow drag of him inside you sending sparks down your spine.

he groans, his pace faltering for a moment as your walls flutter around him, his hips pressing flush against yours.

“love waking up like this,” he mutters, biting down on your shoulder, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles. “gonna let me make you come, baby?”

you can only whimper, nodding frantically, and theo chuckles, his hips snapping just a little harder, his fingers working you just right.

and that’s all it takes.

pleasure crashes over you, white-hot and dizzying, your whole body tensing as you come undone around him.

theo groans, burying himself deep, his own release following right after, his body trembling as he spills inside you, warm and thick.

the two of you lay there, tangled up in each other, his arm still wrapped around you, his breathing slowing as he presses a sleepy kiss to your jaw.

“mm,” he hums, smirking against your skin. “best way to wake up.”

you huff out a laugh, still trying to catch your breath.

“better get used to it.”

[riddikulusravenclawbelle]

promiscuous

plot - you never expected Harry to kiss you—and now he's avoiding you. Draco’s been distant too, but the tension between you both is impossible to ignore. Trapped between two men who won’t make a move, you're left wanting more.

characters - harry potter x reader & draco malfoy x reader

warnings - possessiveness, smut, curse words, mentions of alcohol, and angst.

wc - 4.8k

final notes - because 'taste' got so much love i decided to make a part two & turn this into a mini series!! if you love this, i may or may not be working on part 3 ;) enjoy!

Draco hasn’t spoken to you in weeks. No teasing, no walking to class together—just silence. Cold and sharp, like his hair.

Harry, when he does see you, pretends like he doesn't. Dodging you in halls, looking away when you meet his eyeline.

And it’s not like Harry didn’t have feelings for you—he did. He made that clear. You were his. He knew it.

He wanted you. Claimed you. Like that would be enough.

But maybe Draco was right.

Because his ‘Gryffindor guilt’ did creep in.

He found you at the Astronomy tower, where you always go to relax and think about things…alone.

The wind had picked up, ruffling the ends of your hair, your robes pulled tight around you. You didn’t flinch when he stepped closer. Didn’t look at him.

“Draco hasn’t spoken to me in weeks, Harry.”

Silence followed, but he didn’t leave.

You sighed, hugging your arms around yourself tighter.

“I thought you might come here,” he finally said, his voice soft.

He stepped closer, cautious. “I didn’t mean to ignore you. I just…”

“You just what?” you asked, cutting him off but still not facing him. “Felt bad? Wanted to keep things simple by acting like it never happened?”

“I thought maybe… maybe it was better for you that way.”

You let out a sharp laugh—cold and humorless. “Don’t pretend you were thinking of me. If you were, you wouldn’t have disappeared after getting everything you wanted.”

“I was nothing to you but a dirty little secret, wasn’t I?” You look up at Harry, he’s now standing a few inches behind you. “You were sacred to me.”

“Y/N that’s not–”

“I lost him because of you,” you added. “Draco. My best friend. I don’t even know what he saw. Maybe nothing. Maybe it was just… obvious.”

He looked pained, torn, like someone had split him down the middle. “I think about you all the time.”

“I can tell, you avoid me in the hallways and sit as far away as possible in class.”

“Not in that way. I worry about you.”

“Then why don’t you do something about it?”

That caught him off guard. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

You shook your head, stepping past him, your shoulder brushing his just enough to sting. “Forget it. Draco was right.”

“Draco was right about what?”

“Your guilt would creep in as soon as you had me.”

You walked away, leaving him speechless.

You didn’t even make it back to the Slytherin common room.

You found him leaning against the wall near the Prefects' Bathroom—tie loose, hair tousled, expression unreadable, like he’d been waiting for something and convinced himself it wasn’t you.

“Thought you were avoiding me,” you said, not quite biting but far from sweet.

Draco didn’t move. “I was.”

“So what’re you doing here then?”

A beat. Two.

“I don’t know,” he said, but the lie tasted sour.

You exhaled, tension radiating through your shoulders. “You don’t look at me. You don’t talk to me. It’s like I’m invisible.”

“I don’t need to,” he said, sharper now. “I saw how you looked at him. How you ran after him that day in the courtyard.” He paused, his voice sharper with these next words.

“How you declared he was better than me.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to ignore me for the next few years until we leave Hogwarts? Or do you plan forever?”

‘What was I supposed to do, Y/L/N?!” He met your gaze, raised his voice, “Beg for you? Get on my knees and pray to Merlin you pick me over Potter?”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

Another step. You were close now—too close for comfort, not close enough to satisfy the ache.

“You think I didn’t want to fight for you?” Draco asked, lowly. “I did. But I knew I’d already lost.”

You hated the way your throat tightened. The way your body still leaned toward him. “You can’t lose, if the game’s not over.”

Silence.

Then—softly, like it hurt to say it—“I still want you.”

And then his hands were on your waist, and your fingers were in his shirt, and his mouth was on yours with so much anger it made your knees weak.

He kissed you like he was trying to erase him from your memory—like he needed proof that you hadn’t stopped wanting him either.

It wasn’t soft or sweet like Potter’s.

It was desperate, like he’d been longing for this moment.

Clothes pulled at, backs slammed into stone walls, hands roaming like they couldn’t get enough.

“You’re not as innocent as you seem.”

“Good, I’m done pretending.”

You gasped into his mouth as his lips trailed down you, and he gripped your hips like he was afraid you’d run into Harry’s arms again. Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging, like you had many times before.

“Tell me you want this. Me.”

Then he froze. His hands stopped where they were as his mouth travelled, leaving a kiss by your ear before confessing “I’m not him. And I won’t let you pretend I am, Y/N.”

And just like that—the spell broke.

Because the truth was: you didn’t want this. Not really.

You just wanted to forget someone else.

You didn’t want Draco at that moment. And you both knew it.

You stood there speechless. Frozen.

Draco’s hands were still on your waist, but the fire in his eyes had dimmed. Something unreadable flickered across his face.

“I won’t be your distraction, princess”

The words were soft, but they struck like a slap.

“I won’t be your second choice,” he said. “Not even for a moment.”

Your heart cracked wide open and at the same time your stomach dropped.

And just like that, he turned and walked away.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

You didn’t go back to the dorms.

You were mortified that Draco had told the rest of your friend group–Enzo, Mattheo. Afraid they’d look at you differently.

As a girl who didn’t know who she wanted.

Because as you looked in the mirror, mascara smudged. Shirt half-buttoned. Collar slightly wrinkled from where Draco’s hands had gripped you.

You looked exactly like someone who didn’t know what they wanted.

You splashed water on your face, but it didn’t help. Nothing helped.

You tried not to think about the way Draco’s voice broke when he said he cared.

How Harry avoided you all week, and the one time he talks to you, it just got worse.

You had wanted comfort but you ended up even more hollow.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

It was a new day. Thank Merlin for that. You went to find Pansy. Somebody you confided in constantly as one of the only sane slytherin girls in your year.

That’s when you heard her talking to someone. About you.

“She was with Malfoy last night,” Pansy drawled to Daphne, her voice sharp with amusement. “Figures she'd move on from Potter. Can’t say he could even handle her.”

You froze, heart thudding in your chest. They hadn’t seen you yet, but the words felt like a slap in the face.

Daphne giggled. “Poor Golden Boy. Bet he’s brooding in some broom cupboard.”

You turned on your heel before they could notice, suddenly breathless. It wasn’t just the gossip that stung—it was the fact that Harry might believe it.

Because maybe it wasn’t completely untrue.

Later that day, Harry found himself pacing near the Great Hall, a gnawing feeling twisting in his gut. He didn’t want to ask what he already feared, but of course, that’s when Draco appeared.

Their eyes locked like magnets. Tension crackled between them.

“She used you, Potter,” Draco said, his tone sharp. “You gave her guilt, and I gave her an escape.”

Harry’s jaw clenched, but his voice shook. “Don’t pretend like you care.”

“Oh, I do,” Draco snapped. “I cared enough not to keep her when I knew she was still thinking about you.”

Harry stared, something twisting deep in his chest.

“You want her?” Draco leaned in, voice low and dangerous. “Then act like it, Potter. Because she deserves better than this cowardly, disappearing version of you.”

And with that, Draco turned on his heel and left Harry standing there, mouth dry, chest hollow, mind reeling.

After the conversation, Harry had planned to go to the Black Lake to meet Ron and confess everything off his chest without Hermione’s judgement.

He knows he’s made a mess of things.

And there you were, Y/N Y/L/N. Your knees tucked to your chest, clearly shaken, clearly crying.

He didn’t approach you yet.

He just watched.

And for the first time in weeks, the pain twisted in his chest.

That’s when you turned around, eyes locking with his—empty, hollow, like you were already saying goodbye.

And that’s when he walked away.

Left you there.

Alone.

Because he knew that if he stepped toward you now, he’d only destroy whatever fragile bridge remained between you two.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

It was the biggest party of the year. Every house crammed into the common room, but it was mostly the 5th, 6th, and 7th years that were allowed. The air was thick with firewhisky fumes, green lanterns casting eerie glows. The music pulsed through the walls, drowning out the chaos of people either making out or passed out cold.

Y/N was dressed to kill in a tight, dark Slytherin-green dress that clung to every curve, the slit running up one leg daring anyone to look. A silver snake necklace gleamed at your neck, the perfect touch of sly, sensual power.

Draco was smug. Smirking. Loving every minute you were not looking at Harry.

“You’re trouble, you know that?”

“Good. I’m tired of being a good girl.”

Draco downs another shot, his eyes flicking to Potter across the room—watching, brooding, his jaw tight with jealousy. The sight seems to ignite something in Draco. He leans in, whispering in your ear, grabbing your hand, and pulling you toward his room without a second thought.

The door slams shut behind you, and Draco’s hands are on you, pressing you against it. His lips are hot and demanding on yours—every inch of him hungry, urgent.

His hands thread through your hair, tugging you closer, his lips trailing down your neck, marking, claiming.

Y/N gasps when he bites down, leaving a claiming hickey just below your jaw.

“Still thinking about him?” he whispers against your skin, smug.

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

“Make me.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice.

You shoved him onto the bed, a dark sensual look in your eyes. He gets on top of you, he loves being in control. His hands travelled under your dress, your fingers yanking his belt. It’s reckless. Loud.

You tilt your head back as his mouth moves lower, the sensation of his lips on your skin almost too good to bear—

“Harry…” you moan, the name slipping out, soft and breathless, before you can stop it.

Silence.

Draco freezes. Your eyes snap open.

Fuck.

“What?” Draco’s voice drops, colder than you’ve ever heard it, venom lacing every syllable.

“Wait—I didn’t mean—”

“No. You did. I knew it.” grabbing his shirt, storming out.

“Draco, please…” You whisper, your voice cracking as you watch him storm out, the door slamming behind him with a finality that sends a chill down your spine.

He’s left you there, still drunk, dress on the floor. Alone, the alcohol still spinning your head as your dress lies discarded on the floor.

And the hickey burns like a brand, a reminder of what you lost—and what you can never undo.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The hall is buzzing with its usual morning chatter—clinks of silverware, flapping owls overhead—but there’s a different kind of tension today.

You stumble in late, sunglasses on, hair in a messy bun with flyaways everywhere, still nursing a hangover. You slide into a seat by the wall between Blaise and Pansy at the Slytherin table, trying to ignore the stares and whispers. Your throat still burns from firewhisky, and your neck is incredibly sore.

“Well, well,” Pansy purrs, sipping pumpkin juice, “did you have fun last night, princess?”

You grunt. “Don’t start.”

Mattheo smirks, clearly enjoying this. “A bit late for that, don’t you think? Word around here is you and Draco went missing for quite a while.”

Y/N freezes mid-bite.

“What?”

“Don’t act surprised.” Enzo’s eyes glitter. “Apparently, you two were seen sneaking off to the dungeons. His dorm, no less. And now there’s a very obvious mark on your neck…” Shit.

You lift your collar, feeling a wave of embarrassment coming over you.

Across the hall, at the Gryffindor table, Harry is silent. Fork clenched in his hand. Ron is mid-chew, oblivious. Hermione shoots Harry a concerned glance.

“Harry… are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“You’re crushing your eggs.”

He doesn’t answer. His eyes are locked on you.

You feel the stare before you see it.

It burns, your eyes flick up.

Harry. Jaw tense. Hands curled. Green eyes blazing like floo powder.

Blaise leans in, his voice low and teasing.

“Also heard you moaned someone else’s name. Bet Draco really liked that, huh?”

You kick him under the table. Hard. The force of it making him grunt.

“Shut. Up.”

Harry doesn’t look away. You don’t either.

It’s a standoff.

You refuse to look away.

Refuse to submit.

Everyone else fades.

And in that split second, it’s clear: He knows.

The same fiery tension that reminds you of the events right after you moaned Harry’s name. You were on a random balcony–one without any students drinking or getting frisky.

You don't have to look to know it was him.

“I didn’t think you’d follow me,” you confessed quietly.

“You always run,” Draco replied, leaning against the wall beside you. “You run, and I chase. It's getting old.”

A long pause.

His voice is low when he speaks, but it cuts like a blade. “How long are you going to pretend it didn’t happen?”

You stiffened. “Nothing happened.”

“Oh?” Draco turns to face you fully, his eyes sharp. “So I imagined you moaning Potter’s name while I had my lips on your neck?”

You go still. Your mouth opens slightly, but no sound comes out.

Your breath catches. “That’s not fair.”

“No,” he says, voice sharp. “What’s not fair is me falling for someone who looks at me and sees a stand-in for Potter.”

A beat passes between you two.

“Fucking hell, Y/N.”

“I was drunk.” You replied quickly.

“You weren’t the night you had sex with him.” That hit like a gut punch. “You weren’t drunk when you ran after him in that corridor. Or when you defended him to me. And you sure as shit weren’t drunk when you came crawling into my bed last night.”

You flinched. “Draco—”

“What is this?” he demands, gesturing between them. “Because I thought I knew. I thought I meant something to you. But you—you just wanted a distraction.”

Your eyes fill with salty tears. “That’s not true. You can’t be mad at me for being confused, Draco.”

Tears prick your eyes, but you refuse to cry. Not in front of him. Not like this.

“No, but I can and do get mad at the fact that I was only a replacement. I wanted–still want you, Y/N.”

You didn’t know what broke first.

The silence or Malfoy’s heart.

And then, softer: “I would’ve given you anything. You know that, right?”

You choke on a breath, nodding.

“I know.” You say, barely audible.

He takes a shaky step back. “Then why does it always come back to him?”

You’re shaking now, a tear rolls down your eyes but don’t answer.

“I hope he fucks you like you need, since I could never do that.”

When he leaves, you're already crying—quietly, furiously.

The feelings overwhelm you right now, as you sit on a bench in the hallway. You don’t want to cry in front of anyone. The rumors would go crazy–even Rita Skeeter would try to get a quote from you at this point. So when you walk by a specific wall, the Room of Requirement reveals itself. And you go in.

Safe.

Empty.

The door slams shut behind you, cutting off the sounds of the entire school. Your chest heaves with each breath as you backs up against the door, hands trembling slightly. Draco’s words still echo in your mind— But now you’re here–alone, mind a whirlwind of hurt and anger, and the heat of the argument still burning in your veins.

The room has changed since you were here last, walls draped in velvet shadows, low lighting from floating candles, books stacked in messy towers, a shattered mirror in the corner.

You froze the second you heard footsteps—someone’s already here.

He came around a corner, startled, a worn leather-bound book in hand. His expression darkened instantly.

“Y/N.”

“Don’t start with me Potter.”

Too late. He scoffs, “Don’t tell me you ran straight here from Malfoy’s bed.”

“Shut up.” The words hit harder than expected. Your eyes snap to him. “You don’t get to talk about things you don’t understand.”

“I understand perfectly,” he retorts, taking a step forward. “Saw the hickey. Heard the rumors. Was he not enough? Had to crawl back to me?”

The silence is thick, charged with something neither of you can ignore.

Harry stared at you like he was trying to burn holes through you. And you hated how good he looked like that—jaw tense, fists clenched at his sides, chest rising like he was holding back from saying something unforgivable.

He stalked closer, heat radiating off him like a curse. “So that’s what you do now?” he murmured, voice low and lethal. “Drink yourself stupid, let him put his hands on you, and pretend it’s me?”

A breath hitched in your throat.

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear. “Tell me—when he kissed your neck, did you imagine it was my mouth?”

His hand caught your jaw, tilting your face to his.

“You’re still thinking about me, aren’t you?” he murmurs. “Even when you’re with him, it’s me you're aching for.”

He chuckled darkly, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “Why are you shaking, darling? Nervous?”

“I’m not—”

“Liar.” His voice was all teeth now, his other hand slipping to your waist, anchoring you in place. “You wanted me to see it, didn’t you? The hickey. The little show you put on in the great hall this morning.”

That did it.

You shoved at his chest, but he didn’t budge.“You think I like the fact that I can’t stop thinking about you?”

His jaw flexed, and something wild flickered in his eyes. “My tongue still remembers the way you taste.” He raised his thumb up to your mouth, rubbing it around your lips.

You sucked in a breath, lips parting, but he didn’t let you speak. Not yet.

“Go on then,” he said, voice low and venomous. “Keep pretending you don’t want this. That you don’t want me.”

“You’re not that special.” You scoffed, looking away.

“No?” he drawled, taking a dangerous step closer, until your back met cold stone. “Then why are your pupils blown wide right now?”

“Maybe you should stop thinking everything revolves around you.”

He leaned in, brushing his mouth beside your ear. “Maybe you should stop pretending you’re not dying for me to touch you.”

He was right. You were unravelling by the second. But he couldn’t know that.

Your jaw locked, fury rising. “I hate you.”

He took a slow step closer. “No, love. You hate that I know what you like. You hate that he couldn’t give it to you.”

Your back hit the door hard. His body just inches from yours now, heat suffocating, rage twisting into want.

“He didn’t touch me like that.”

“No,” Harry whispered. “Because he’s not me. This isn’t about Malfoy to me, Y/N. Or pride. Or winning.”

The Room shifted around them, pulsing with tension. A mirror bloomed from the shadows, tall and wide, its surface glinting with dark magic.

He tilted your chin toward it. “Look at yourself. All flustered, desperate.”

“You’re imagining things.”

His voice was like sin and smoke. “Can’t hide it, can you?” he whispered, his eyes flicking down to where your chest pressed against him.

“The way your body’s reacting—your breath has quickened, your skin’s flushed.” He takes his hand and moves a stray hair out of your face. “And you’re leaning into me like your body’s already decided for you.”

Your breath hitched, the pulse between your legs a steady thrum.

“Still pretending you don’t want this?” he asked, lips brushing your own—close enough to taste but not close enough to take. “Go on then. Lie to my face.”

“You’re such a fucking prick,” you spat, voice shaking—not with fear, but need.

His smirk dragged slowly across your jaw. “And yet… you haven’t told me to stop.” His voice was a rasp, rough and filled with desire.

You swallowed hard, not trusting yourself to speak.

He took your hand, softly, guiding you to the mirror.

He stood behind you, his chest brushing your back. One hand came to rest on your hip, his thumb tracing small, deliberate circles on your skin. His breath was warm against your ear as he leaned down to speak.

“You see that?” His voice was rough, dripping with sex. “That’s you wanting me. Wanting this. Wanting everything I’m going to give you.”

His hands slid to your thighs, coaxing your legs apart just enough to let his body fit even tighter against yours. You closed your eyes for a brief moment, fighting back the desire, but the way his hands were moving, the way his lips were on your neck, was too much.

You wanted this—him.

“You’ve been pretending,” he whispered against your neck, his voice rough with control. “Pretending you don’t want me. But you do. I can see it in your eyes.” He breathed against your neck, his breath warm.

“Tell me,” he demanded, voice like velvet and steel.

“I want it,” you finally admitted, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “I want you.”

The words hung between you, a silent agreement, before Harry’s lips claimed you in a passionate, hungry kiss. His mouth moved against yours with a force, pulling you closer by the neck. You made quick work of your clothes.

“How do you want me, love?”

Without breaking the kiss, you guided him to a nearby couch and let him sit down, getting on top of him.

“Ever since that day I have stopped thinking about you–your body, how you feel, how you taste.” He confessed in a low growl, and he took you off his lap.

Before you could even respond he was on his feet, his hands were on your jaw, tilting your head back just enough to make you vulnerable, exposed, anything but innocent. He stepped back slightly, but only to better admire you—his eyes dark and calculating.

“Look at me,” he commanded, voice low, dangerous.

“See what you’ve done to me?” he growled, voice rough, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “See what you’re making me do?” His hands moved to your shoulders, laying you down onto the couch as he leaned over you, face mere inches from your own.

He gripped the back of your neck, his thumb pressing against your throat in a possessive hold. "Don’t look away," he ordered, as he faced you over the arm of the chair looking at the mirror, ready to take him.

“I want you to watch,” He said, looking at you in the mirror. “I want you to see exactly how you feel under me. How badly you want this.”

He made quick work of his clothes—shedding layers until he was bare above you, muscles rippling, jaw tight with restraint. And then he was lining himself up, rubbing the head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing your entrance.

“Beg,” he whispers, knowing he has all the power.

Your pride was paper-thin now.

“Please,” you breathed.

And with that, he thrust into you in one slow, devastating motion. Filling you. Stretching you. Claiming you.

Getting rid of every single mark Draco Malfoy has ever laid on you.

You cried out, nails digging into the couch, head falling forward against the couch.

“Look,” he groaned, voice barely hanging on, grabbing you by your hair. “Look at how fucking perfect you take me.”

He forced your eyes to the mirror. And there it was—his body pressed to yours, the roll of his hips, the flush in your skin. You’d never looked so wrecked. So wanted.

He set a brutal rhythm—deep, deliberate strokes that pushed you right to the edge again. His hand slid between you, thumb circling your clit in time with every thrust, every curse he spat into your neck.

“You feel that?” he grunted. “That’s what Malfoy could never give you.”

“Harry—” you whimpered, nails raking down the couch.

He grinned, teeth grazing your jaw. “That’s right, love. Say my name. Say it when you cum.”

You did. Loud. Raw. Back arching as he sent you spiraling again, your orgasm crashing into you like a wave.

He wasn’t far behind—his thrusts growing sloppier, breath ragged, muscles tightening until he came with a groan that sounded like it was torn from his soul, spilling into you as his hips finally stilled.

For a long moment, the room was silent, saved for your heavy breathing.

Harry leaned over, brushing his fingers through your hair with a smug little grin.

“You okay? Still breathing? Still gorgeous?”

He kissed your cheek.

You groaned. “I have to go, I have to go meet Pansy in like five minutes.” You paused. “I can find an excuse though.” You said out loud to yourself.

“Go ahead, sneak off.” His voice was still husky, and sweet.

“But just know I’m never going to stop thinking about the way you sounded.”

He paused.

“Or looked. Or tasted. Or—okay, I’ll shut up.”

You laughed, and he grinned.

Eventually, he shifted, careful not to pull away completely, and reached for the throw blanket crumpled at the edge of the couch. He tucked it over both of you, his hand still brushing yours underneath.

You felt his lips press softly to your temple. No teasing. No smirk. Just that.

You blinked up at him, hazy. “You’ve never kissed me like that before.”

He swallowed, his jaw working for a second like he was trying to choose the right words. “I’ve never felt like that before.”

Your heart fluttered traitorously, as you got up to put your clothes that were scattered across the room.

“Harry…”

You looked down at him, green eyes a little softer now. “I meant what I said. That this—” he gestured between you “—isn’t just about Malfoy. Or winning. Or proving anything.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him. The cocky armor was still there in flashes, but underneath it—he looked scared. Like he wasn’t sure what this meant either. Like maybe you weren’t the only one who’d been hiding behind games.

Your lips found his, sealing one last kiss. It wasn’t rushed or messy like before. It wasn’t desperate. It was slow, lingering. A maybe. A maybe-this-could-be-something-more.

When you pulled back, his eyes were still closed for a beat too long, like he didn’t want it to end.

“I really do have to go,” you whispered, fingers brushing over his collarbone as you stood.

Harry groaned, head falling back against the couch cushion. “Blimey, you can’t walk out like that,” he said, a grin tugging at his mouth as his eyes finally opened. “People will think I hexed you.”

You glanced down at yourself—shirt halfway buttoned, hair a total wreck, your neck marked in places that would be very hard to explain in the Slytherin common room.

You huffed a laugh. “They’ll probably assume it was Malfoy.”

His head whipped around to glare at you, eyes narrowed. “Don’t even joke about that. I’ll fight him.”

“Please don’t,” you teased, grabbing your skirt from the back of the armchair. “You’d ruin that pretty face,” you said as you grabbed his jaw gently. “And I like it exactly the way it is.”

Harry stood up then, clearly sore but trying not to show it, and helped you with the zipper at the back of your skirt, his fingers lingering a moment too long.

“You know,” he said, voice dropping again as he stepped in behind you, “I’ve still got energy for round two.”

You turned slightly, arching a brow. “You can barely stand.”

He leaned down, mouth brushing your ear. “Then come back later. I’ll be ready for you.”

You spun around, biting back a grin as you backed toward the door. “You’re insatiable.”

“And you’re irresistible.”

You rolled your eyes, trying not to smile as you slipped out into the corridor, cheeks still flushed, legs wobbly, and your heart absolutely wrecked.

You didn’t even realize it until you were halfway to the dungeons—but you could still feel the ghost of his kiss on your temple.

And this time, it meant something.

[noellehdl]

in my room- icp

pairing: Theodore Nott x Hogwarts!Ghost! Reader

genre: smut/ angst

warnings: mdni! ghost obviously, smoking, kissing, fingering, oral (m receiving) unprotected p in v (not like she can get pregnant?!), dirty talk, italian nicknames, hard concern for Theo's sanity,

summary: The Hogwarts castle is full of ghosts, the moaning myrtle, sir nicholas, and countless others, but what happens if a student falls for one of those ghosts that wander around the castle?

a/n: always wanted to build a story about this song so now Theo has to suffer, because hogwarts has etablished ghosts in their daily life, all my characters are 18+, modern au, reader pov

w/c: 2,161

'2:45 and the bell went off, thank God Many people think I'm odd But I talk with no one and I walk alone'

and it's a fact, the people started to think that Theodore Nott becomes more and more odd, once he was snarky, loud and together with Mattheo Riddle the center of attention whenever they stepped in the same room. In the last few weeks Theo ditched parties, was the first to leave classes and skipped meals. His friends had two options for what's happening there, it's either the fact that Theo's dad affected his mannerism enough to cause a bad mental state, or which seemed way more realistic for all other noble slytherin heirs around Theo... it's a girl, and if it is a girl, Theo does everything to keep to himself who it is.

Every other afternoon there's an open discussion in the luxury decorated green common room. 'I bet it's a sweet hufflepuff girl that triggered something like a soft spot in him' Blaise throws in the room, leaning back against his velvet armchair like this is his castle and the common room is his throne room. 'Could also be a ravenclaw girl that is too smart for us to hang around' Mattheo's voice is dripping with sarcasm while his lighter illuminates his face. Draco looks up from his book in his lap, 'it would put you all into a coma if it's a boy'. Enzo face lights up in amusement, 'it would put you into a coma if it's Potter.' That earns him the coldest glare one of the boys received from draco in a good while.

'I don't care, I walk in and go right up the stairs To my room, get in bed, and just wait for dark Because that's when the real show starts'

Theo sits on lays back against his headboard, he knows Mattheo won't be back soon in their shared dorm. The faint smells of cigarettes and multiple potions from a long school day linger around Theo when the presence of her makes the way into the chaotic dorm of two boys.

'So young and pretty, it's too bad she passed But she comes to my room and we talk at night'

Of course Theo started to be actually concerned for his already little miserable mental state when he first started talking to you, but on the other hand he's seen countless other interactions between students and ghosts, a little friendly banter here and there, an quick etablished inside joke and the common rooms are guarded by portraits. So a little conversation with you here and there wouldn't drive him to the edge of sanity, right?

'She's demonic and bloody but she holds me tight In my bedroom, with her, I'm never alone'

Theo didn't realized when all those little conversations turned into opening up to you in a way people like Mattheo couldn't even imagine about, you remembered small details like theo's schedule or what lunches he skips because he just didn't like the food options. He felt drawn to you like he was Ikarus and you were the sun. He know it will hurt in the end but he couldn't stop, he needed to get closer and closer to you.

'And I kiss her cold lips until the morning comes'

The first kiss Theo initiated wasn't even cold, no, his cheeks burned enough for the two of you, it felt strange, like a tickle, a breath of fresh air after a long night filled with alcohol and cigarettes. The second you step out of the bar, exactly that feeling captured in the kiss. Theo loved every second of it. This wasn't meaningless like the kisses he shared with the girls in his life, this was diffrent. Theo started to crave you like nothing he could compare in his life.

'Usually we just lay there, where we hold each other We're lovers, we don't need others'

Theo couldn't stop. Kisiing wasn't enough anymore, he needed to feel you fully, completely, he needed to feel you in ways others would probably lock him up for.

That lead to a particular rainy afternoon, a saturday to be specific. The clouds were heavy around the castle. Still was Theo in his room and very sure his friends were in the Three Broomsticks or somewhere in Hogsmeade causing chaos, usually Theo would be by their side, of course, but today, today he told Mattheo once again he didn't feel really good and he needs to focus on the upcoming exams for the following week.

It was a weak lie, and Theo knew that Mattheo was well aware of Theo's pathetic excuses to stay inside their room, but still..

'Teddy what's on your mind?' you ask sweet, like you always are around him. He couldn't help but take in your beautiful features, a bit grey, but in no scenario would've done that anything to your breathtaking presence to Theo.

'It's you, cara mia, it's always you.', his voice is dripping with honesty, pure admiring honesty and if you could you would blush up to your ears, instead, you thank him for the sweet words with a kiss on his warm and soft lips. It always tastes a bit like cigarettes to kiss him, and the faint note of mint, like he chews on peppermint leaves when he knows he'll see you today.

His bed is warm and always smells good, there's no place in this castle that welcomes you more than Theo's warm sheets. His fingers brush over your cheeks and you can feel the way he's hesistating to actually touch you.

'Teddy i won't break, you know that, right?' you laugh soft, tilting your head a bit to properly face him. 'Piccola, i'm scared that you'll disappear if i take that step that i wanna take.' It's clear what he means. 'i want that too and i promise to not disappear afterwards.'

Your words are the permission he needs. his hand slowly travels down your body, it's a unknown feeling for both of you, and you don't know how much you'll be able to feel of that, but you help Theo to take off your pants anyways. Theo's Adam's apple boobles with how heavy he swallows, he's done that countless times. He had a reputation as one of the biggest players around the whole school, but with you, oh merlin was he nervous.

You were pretty sure of which body functions still worked perfectly fine, so you're not suprised when the moan escapes your cold lips when Theo's warm fingers make the much needed contact with your slick folds, he's holding back and you feel how much in the way his arm flexes and he occasionally closes his eyes.

'Please, teddy, please', you whisper out breathless and that's his undoing, two of his warm fingers slip inside you while the other arm cages you against him. You breathless moan in the curve of his neck while his fingers curl up in all right spots. His breathing gets heavier with every moan that falls, you feel him getting harder against you thigh. His name halls back from the walls like it is the only thing you know anymore.

The warm feeling in your abdomen only tightens when he kisses your neck soft and loving. 'Come for me, cara mia, show me how much you want me.' That's it, your muscles tense in your whole body and you fall back in his soft mattress, letting out high pitched, shaky moans.

'you're so beautiful, baby, so unbelievable beautiful.', he whispers in your ear, you can't help it you need to kiss the soft warm skin of his neck, down to his collarbone

'Teddy i need to feel you in my mouth, i need it, please.', he nods, desperatly, he needs you too and you know it. 'Yes, baby, of course.' His italian accent thickens when lust hazes his mind.

You lick over his length and you feel your body shaking again. You wrap your mouth around him and Theo immediatly rolls his head back. He never felt a sensation like that, it feels cold and warm at the same time, but the warmth is just a trick of his mind. He looks down on you and the way he can see himsel vanishing in your almost transparent throat, he moans shaky, he couldn't even imagine this image in his wildest and craziest dreams. Drool slowly spills over the corners on your mouth and Theo's hand grips your hair.

'S..stop, cara mia, stop-' he presses out and you abruptly stop and look up and brush over your mouth to clean the mess. 'Did i do something wrong?' you ask. your voice dripping with insecurity.

'Merlin, no, my love..' Theo immediatly shakes his head '...but if you keep going i'll finish before i felt your pretty cunt around me and i need you so bad, baby.' Heat shots again straight to your core when he spins you over and his broad shoulders cage you in. One arm is wrapping around your head. 'Are you okay, mia regina?' You nod as permission to him.

He slowly pushes himself in you and you moan in sync with eachother, both of your names falling from the lips of the other one.

Theo's eyes travel down your body, he watches how his length pushes into you again and again, his thrusts stutter when he realizes that he can see all of him through you.

'Fuck baby, you take me so well and you look so pretty doing so', Theo's words encourage you only to moan louder and look up at him. One hand holds himself next to your head, while the other hand quickly finds your most sensitive spot, rubbing precise circles to push you to the edge.

'Teddy, oh merlin, i can't, please don't stop.' If you could form actual words you would let him know how good you're feeling but Theo is driving you crazy with his movements.

You clench around him so tight when you finish that he shots his hot strings of cum deep inside you. He gently lays down next to you and combs his fingers through your hair.

'You took me so well, cara mia, it felt amazing', as response you need against him. Your eyes drop, not because you're tired, it's been a good while since you felt really tired, no, in your chest sets a warm cozy feeling, so close to Theo after the best feeling you ever had.

'She told me she was spotted by the neighbor's kid She can't come back now 'cause they know our secret'

Mattheo opens the dorm door and if you had a heart it would've dropped in your stomach. 'Nott you missed out on so much, due to the rain all white shirts of all girls were almost see -through, you would be suprised if you knew how many of them don't wear..' Mattheo's face falls when he sees you. A ghost, obviously, not deniable and naked in his best friends bed.

'What the fuck is going on here?' Mattheo's voice is high and in absolute disbelief, he can't follow his running thoughts about what happend and what was going on in the past weeks with Theo.

You leave Theo's room before the scene turns from a rom-com in a horror movie, deep down you know for Mattheo it's nothing else but a horror movie and you know where to find Theo anyways when he's alone again.

'I waited two or three months, four months Waitin' for the tap tap just for once'

Not once you encountered with Theo since then after you eavesdropped on his friends telling him how sick it is to love a ghost, that you two don't have a future and he should drop it for his sanity.

You felt empty and when you finally found the courage to maake the long way back to Theo's dorm, and you pass through the wall and that's the second you decide that you should become a poltergeist and haunt the slytherin dungeons until your time strikes.

Theo, the only person that made you feel something in decades, he's wildly pounding into another girl. You make your way backwards through the wall again and lose all responsibility, you throw around expensive vases at night, put the fire back on and whenever Theo accidently leaves his belongings in the common room, they vanish immediatly in the following night.

He knows it's you and he wishes he could tell you how much he misses you and how much he wants you back in his arms. That he regrets his pathetic try to get over you and that he could explain you that it was nothing more than that, a pathetic try. You're gone and he knows it, you'll never come back and it's his fault for letting his friends get inside his head.

'I waited and hated this'

[nottswitch]

theodore nott sneaks up on you. he doesn’t even do it on purpose – his steps are just naturally quiet, like a cat’s. but when he notices your little jump, or sometimes a small gasp leaving your lips, he smirks. he’s now going to use his silent walking privileges to spook you any time he feels like watching you get just a bit flustered.

[prythiansprincess]

writing the most deranged and depraved stalker! theo fic and I fear this is it this is the fic that will finally get me admitted into the psych ward 🫣👀