#theo nott hcs

[nottslove]

I was thinking “Sports car” by Tate McRae reminds me of Theo so much 👀

okay so my song requests for my mini-fic series are actually closed right now as i have SO MUCH to write, but i LOVE this song, and it really is theo, so i had an idea to write something little small... tags: @dracosprettygirl, @nottsstar warnings: slightly suggestive content, mdni.

THEO WITH A SPORTS CAR theo's filthy rich, and he most definitely owns a sports car because why not?

he LOVES driving...

he often likes to turn up the music high leave the windows down as he zooms down the streets waaayyyy faster than the speed limit without even bothering to wear a seatbelt.

however, after your insistence, he does eventually wear a seatbelt, eyes constantly drifting sideways to check on you, his precious passenger princess.

he drives with one hand most of the time, the other is resting on your thigh, it's designated spot. he will allow you to control the music sometimes, and when you put on your girly music he complains, but secretly, he doesn't mind it.

in fact, even when he's alone, you'd find him listening to your girly music, and when you'd confront him about it, he'd merely give the excuse that those songs were already playing and he was lazy to change the playlist.

(he also hums these songs in the shower.)

his car is his baby, and you're the only thing more precious than his car. he will let you drive it sometimes, but he's constantly telling you to be careful and teaching you how to drive.

"i don't see why you need to learn how to drive when i'm right here to drive you around wherever you want..."

of course, during long car trips, he will finger fuck you whilst driving, or if he needs a little break, he'll take you in the backseat... maybe eat you out as well if there's time..

profile; nav;

©nottslove 2025. do not copy, steal or claim any works/graphics as your own.

[rafesthroatbaby]

very possessive but is surprisingly open to threesomes— as long as it’s with one of his friends and not a stranger

THAT‘S US BABY 😭😭😭🥰 ahh you really nailed it so perfectly.. was literally gasping with every line 🐱🪦 god, it’s the Italian mixed with english for me.. like imagine him saying all the sexy shit with his sexy ass voice ?! swear haven’t been the same since last night.. we need him in our guts till we breakkk 😏 messy hours 💦 love it so much, back like we never left 💕 high & horny with youuu 🤤 MY BITCHHH

Theo Nott nsfw headcanons

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

warnings: smut 18+, dirty talk, spanking, praising and degradation, choking, hair pulling, oral and vaginal sex

nav. // m.list // blurbs m.list

obsessed with making out with you. he’d pull you onto his lap, grab your face and kiss you for hours

dirty talk in italian!!!!

“si, ti piace, piccola?”

mostly a dom. he likes having control and wants to take care of you

but also a very passionate lover. treats you like a princess even though he can be rough

lots and lots of praising (also in italian mixed with english)

“so beautiful, amore mio”

loves eating you out and he’s insanely good at it too. could have his head buried between your legs for hours and will hold your hips down until you’re shaking from overstimulation

neck kisses!!!!!!!!!

very possessive but is surprisingly open to threesomes— as long as it’s with one of his friends and not a stranger

horny 24/7. like seriously. this man craves sex every second of the day and could go for many rounds. insane stamina

he’s loving and passionate but he can be very rough and mean!

especially after losing quidditch game or when he’s jealous. he will degrade the living shit out of you, pull your hair and fuck you so hard until you’re crying and shaking

“aww, is it too much for my dirty little slut? so pathetic.”

falls asleep right away after sex while his arms are wrapped tightly around you

kinks

choking. his strong hand will be wrapped around your neck tightly most of the time as he pounds into you

spanking. has an obsession with your ass and will have you bent over his lap when you’ve pissed him off or made him jealous

edging. just loves hearing you beg. he also wants to make your orgasms as intense as possible so you scream his name for everyone to hear

cockwarming. will have you sit on his lap while he’s studying. firmly grips your hips when you’re trying to move up and down because he is a patient man and will fuck you after he has finished his work

praising. praises you so much during sex. tells you constantly how good you’re doing for him and how pretty you look. loves seeing you get all shy

face sitting. would let you sit on his face literally any time of the day. moans into your cunt while he firmly grabs your ass and fucks you with his tongue

favourite positions

missionary. like i said, he’s a passionate lover. any position where he is close to you with lots of eye contact is his favourite

cowgirl. occasionally he likes to just lie back and watch you ride him as your tits bounce up and down. the sight alone could make him cum on the spot. sometimes smokes a cigarette while he enjoys the show

spooning. he gets to be lazy but still feel you close to him. perfect position for him to wrap his hand around your throat or rub your clit

reblogs and comments are very appreciated !!

taglist (join here): @xolaylaxo @one-direction-harry-potter1 @whoslunaaa @kayleiggh @daddysfucktoyslut @tellenically @lady-of-love-beauty-and-death @gardening-tool-for-sebby-stan @vintageirene @leelizzz @shxwty43 @heartthc @abaker74 @royalchickens @anahcruz15 @jasminejandee @stillinski25 @droplikeconfetti @burningdesirebby0 @oliviastrakerrr @itzliyalupin @hvgwartss @bunnyweasley23 @watersquirtpewpewboomm @liqvidlvvck @loveeharrington @demirunner @saturnmoonyy @nyctophicbtch @usuck @bigtiddywench @jac1ndaa @iluvweasleys @mih-velaryon @juletaylorsversion @scrletletter @ecliqwze @le000xxgrd @dramaticals @thepotatopigeon @etolies-garden

+ tagging my girls @drewstarkeyslut & @rafesthroatbaby 💘

[stqrgirlie0]

⋆boyfriend!theodore⋆

⊹ ࣪ ˖ boyfriend!theodore who only has two moods in terms of music: either pnd or the nbd🙏🙏🙏 when you’re not around he’s always listening to music any chance he gets

⊹ ࣪ ˖ boyfriend!theodore who writes you little love notes during class because he knows you get so cringey and embarrassed about it

⊹ ࣪ ˖ boyfriend!theodore who is all over you alll the timeee. he needs to be close to you and touching you at all times, even if it’s just your pinkies interlinked

⊹ ࣪ ˖ boyfriend!theodore who has a strange addiction to your collarbones, gets him going at any moment in time, such a pervert always looking at your neck (or even down your blouse🙂‍↔️)

⊹ ࣪ ˖ boyfriend!theodore who eats 24/7 ,even in lessons, and always forces you to go down with him to the kitchens for a lil midnight snack

⊹ ࣪ ˖ boyfriend!theodore who always falls asleep in your lap when you force him to study or read with you

⊹ ࣪ ˖ boyfriend!theodore who let’s you accompany him on a late night walk around the school when he’s smoking because he knows you need your downtime from socialising with all the others

⊹ ࣪ ˖ boyfriend!theodore such a goofball and always pulling pranks on you, you’ll always see him snickering with lorenzo, thinks it’s so cute when you act all angry at him after

⊹ ࣪ ˖ boyfriend!theodore who loves you and trusts you so much that he willingly talks about his mum in front of you whenever it’s just the two of you up at the astronomy tower talking

⊹ ࣪ ˖ boyfriend!theodore who is soooo observant, if he sees you looking at a book at the bookstore or a dress at the boutique for too long, you’ll find it wrapped up in tissue paper on your nightstand the next morning

#another one since you guys liked the mattheo one so much🫡 #if you guys have ideas drop me a few!😚 #enjoy xoxo

[pizzaapeteer]

pieces of life - Mattheo & Theo

I’ve been imagining what it would be like to see Theo and Mattheo just around the castle….

- walking around chatting as they have their hands in their pockets, their hair disheveled and uniforms slightly untucked, loose ties

- arm wrestling, thumb wars, head locking one another over the breakfast table in the great hall, being obnoxiously loud esp to Blaise trying to just read the daily prophet

- standing out in the transfiguration courtyard people watching with their dead stares while they smoke cigarettes and bitch about classes

- both of them always being competitive in their fitness but both struggling to climb up the astronomy tower stairs because of their shitty lungs

- the random times Mattheo has over bursts of energy and jumps on Theo’s back for him to give him a piggyback, often resulting in dragging them both down

- the two of them hanging out in the Slytherin common room into the early hours, drinking and having a deep and meaningful chat as well as pointing out how good the pranks the Weasley pull

- the two of them getting distracted in study session in the library and breaking into fits of laughter when Blaise and Draco shoot them synchronized looks to shut up right before they get all of them kicked out

- anytime one of them accidentally blows something up both equally blaming Seamus and never take the fault

- snickering in the hallways when they fling shit at first years of other houses with slingshots (literally standing up on the ledge like where Ron and Harry are in the 6th movie)

- theo trying to tackle mattheo at the beginning of quidditch practice on the ground, before Mattheo purposefully aims the bludger a little to close to theo

- purposefully luring any girls cat over to the dungeons so they can have furbaby cuddles, and make girls chase after them

- sneaking into the kitchens when Theo complains about being homesick and needing to steal some bread

- both of them always interrupting Draco whenever he tries to make a move on a girl, taking the piss and bringing up random facts about Draco as a child

- beer pong partners 100%

- throwing fake spiders at ron 24/7

- silent facial communications

- insults to one another, specifically to do with something psychical eg: Theo being called a stick and Matt being called a dirty scoundrel

- both sitting at the back of the class but often get separated

- fucking around at the beginning of DADA with stupid spells

- drawing cocks on anyone who falls asleep in the common room with a permeant spell

- whipping their towels at one another in the locker room; and trying not check one another out 👀

- taking advantage of Draco’s prefect roles to sabotage the prefects bath, sneaking girls in there to act like it’s a hot tub

- getting pent up energy before a quidditch game and yelling ‘LESGO’ ‘FUCK THESE BITCHES UP’

⤷ navigation. ⤷ masterlist. ⤷ theo masterlist. ⤷ mattheo masterlist. ⤷ divider. All work is my own and is not to be copied, claimed or stolen. ©️pizzaapeteer 2025. this is so random and has been sitting in my drafts forever, it’s kind of just a random shit thought post :)

[piastappies]

˗ˏ` THEODORE NOTT HEADCANONS! ´ˎ˗

NATIONALITY. i truly believe that this man is half polish from his mother’s side and half scottish from his father’s side.

his maternal side of the family settled in northern scotland during the world war two to escape the german occupation. at first it was supposed to be temporary — to stay there until the war ends, but they settled down in the outskirts of inverness, though they never forgot about their heritage, speaking their native language, remembering the history and making sure that their descendants wouldn’t forget about their family’s past.

his mother would continue the tradition, speaking to her only son in her family’s mother tongue. due to the lack of conversation with his father, he barely spoke any english, when he first got to hogwarts, he understood lots of what was said to him, but communicating back was troubling for him at first.

back when his mother was still alive, she would take him to poland, to show him their family’s hometown. after she passed away due to suicide, combined with her progressing schizophrenia around his tenth birthday, he hasn’t returned to his mother’s country until post-war.

FRIENDS. he didn’t have too many friends at first nor wanted to make any in the first place. the first person he spoke to was daphne greengrass.

his poor english with a rough accent, mixed of polish and scottish, made it hard for him to be understood by his peers in the train, making theo seem as an arrogant and egocentric twelve-years old boy, who thought he was better than the others that approached him. theo felt alienated, but couldn’t speak his mind, because his peers would make fun of the way he speaks.

back in the first term of first year, his roommates weren’t speaking to him. thanks to daphne, who let him took his time to figure out what he wanted to say, he met his gang and switched dorms with one of them, which resulted in sharing a room with mattheo and lorenzo.

even though he had a small group of friends, his closest were daphne and mattheo. the alienation he felt earlier was lifted off his shoulders, knowing that there were still people that would be there for him. ever since his mom died, he felt like his world was shattered into pieces, the feeling only intensifying, when his father forbid him from seeing the side of the family he grew up with, the good side that let him be a boy.

his friendship with daphne was strong throughout years as she often invited him to the countryside, where her family’s mansion was, often disappearing into thin air at the crack of dawn till the late evening, wandering around the streets of a muggle towns nearby her house, causing troubles with the rest of their friends.

PERSONALITY.

it wasn’t a surprise for anyone that learnt about his background that despite coming off as an extrovert, theodore was really quiet and perceptive guy, who kept lots of things to himself. not a lot of people knew about his mom’s life and the way it ended as his father made sure that everyone thought she died of an unspecified illness.

seeing his mom’s schizophrenia progressing in his early years, leading to her suicide had taken a toll on him. he believed that it was his father’s fault for everything bad that happened to the person he loved the most as he tried isolating her from her family, and when that didn’t work out the way he wanted, abusing her mentally and physically. after her passing, the abuse continued, this time, theodore was at the end of the stick. his father’s behaviour making theo distrustful and hostile towards male figures in his life, especially authorities.

despite his quietness, lots of girls at school were falling in front of him to get at least an ounce of his attention for themselves. it might be the brooding state he’s often is in. he, as well as his friends, is often the subject of interest of people in his year and below. usually, he attends the parties in the common rooms to keep up with his reputation.

theo’s really indifferent towards things that don’t matter much to him, like said reputation, or for example his grades. though, he doesn’t care about his academics as much as he does about quidditch, he’s exceptionally intelligent and talented, picking up things in a speed of light. he’s not one to refuse helping others (=his friends) and he often tutors mattheo before exams to make sure they both pass the year.

he gets angry, whenever someone compares him to his father, what happens when someone hears his last name. during this time or immediately after, he can get outbursts of anger and needs a smoke (preferably a joint) to numb his mind. if he doesn’t have anything on him, which rarely happens, then if you’re in a line of fire, a visit to hospital wing is the only way out.

whenever he comes back to school from the christmas break, his panic attacks are more frequent, usually accompanied by the image of his dead mom. the panic attack that he would never forget was during his third year, when his boggart showed him his mom’s lifeless body, triggering something inside him.

MISCELLANEOUS.

theo’s super tall, making him stand out from the crowd. when he was measured by miss pomfrey in year five, she told him that he’s around six foot five. he used to be a short kid, but once he started growing, he couldn’t stop — stretch marks on his stomach has fainted over the years.

he doesn’t like mixed alcohol. as a teenager with polish genes, theodore doesn’t mix his alcohol with any juice or soda to make the bitterness go away faster. when he drinks, he does it neat, no matter the type. whether he drinks tequilla, vodka, whiskey or wine, he never adds anything. and when he does want to make the taste go away faster, he eats pickled cucumbers.

has bad anxiety. as i said earlier, theo’s bad anxiety and with each year passing, it only gets worse. his panic attacks are more frequent and it often goes in a pair with any contact from his father.

music taste. the music he listens to is dependent on his mood. whenever he’s alone in his dorm, he blasts polish songs and bands, especially dżem, because it was his mom’s favorite rock-blues band. he’s also a big fan of the smiths and simple minds.

blood status. he doesn’t care about any of it, mostly because that’s what his mom taught him — blood status doesn’t define a person, their actions do. even if she didn’t, he would probably still pretty much indifferent to the blood status of people around him, just to do the opposite of what his father wants.

substances. he’s go to substance is weed. he doesn’t smoke as much as people think, he likes to smoke a joint on a chilly summer morning or after a stressful day. he definitely drinks much more, but not to the point, when he can’t live without it. it’s not a secret that once in a while, he pops mdma at parties.

AS A BOYFRIEND. or more specific, your boyfriend.

possessive. as much as he doesn’t like admitting it, he doesn’t like sharing too much. he’s an only child, who grew up alone most of the time, so sharing never came easy to him. he tries to fight it though, knowing that being super possessive isn’t something healthy. he knows how to read people, so when there’s a guy hanging around you, who’s clearly interested in you, he makes sure to be somewhere around you to shift your focus from the annoying prick to him, while still being gentle with you. he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his side to leave a kiss on the top of your head, before glaring expectantly at the boy.

communicative. being able to communicate his feelings and thoughts with others weren’t a bother to theodore, he hardly ever spoke to anyone about his troubles, bottling everything up until it popped. but when it comes to you? this guy makes sure that you know he has nothing to hide from you. he’s upset? you’re the one he talks to. he’s angry? you’re the only one able to calm him down. he wants you to know that you’re the one he cares about the most.

protective. this guy loves you to bits and loves everything you do, so when you show him the outfit you plan on wearing, he doesn’t comment on it in any way that could come off as negative, not that he wants to but forces himself to shut up, no, theodore couldn’t even think of something else to say that comolimenting the way you look or telling you all the things he’d love to, and will do to you later. back, when the two of you started dating and you went out somewhere, he always repeated the same thing, wear whatever you want, baby, i can fight. and he definitely would fight for you if you ever asked (what probably will never happen, because no matter how hot he looks sometimes, you hate seeing him hurt). or fight anyone, who does as much as look at you funny, and knowing his friends? they wouldn’t pull him away from the fight, no, they would jump right in to help him.

love language. his love language is acts of service and physical touch. his hands always have to be somewhere on your body, whether it’s his arm slung around your shoulders or wrapped around your waist, his hand on your hip, thigh, his thigh touching yours. it’s not only that he likes to touch you, but he hates when you’re next to him, but not close enough to calm his mind that he might lose you. also, theodore is not the best with words, so he won’t write you a few pages long letter, but what he will do is remember small details of what you tell him, like your favorite brands of sweets, crisps, your favorite flavor of cakes or cookies to always have at least one of those in his bag. he’s the guy who would drive from inverness to the south of england if you ever needed him. you’re sick? one message and theo’s there to take care of you. you like a book, but have no one to talk to about it? he’s gonna read the book just to hear you ramble.

[govnder]

TARNISHED — THEODORE NOTT

⋅ WHERE THEODORE NOTT received the dark mark.

⋅ warnings: suicidal thoughts, drinking, mention of death, mention of self harm.

heavily inspired by @artytaeh's bots. you should really check them out: here and here. her bots and character.ai account are definitely a favorite, and if you haven't seen them yet, you definitely should! 🤍

He had only just left Draco’s house, and yet the world already felt heavier, suffocating in its silence.

Now seated on the edge of his bed at Nott Manor, Theodore stared at his left forearm with something beyond loathing—something primal, corrosive. The black ink twisted there like a curse, stark against his pallid skin, and surrounded by angry welts as though even his body rejected what he had done. It throbbed. Gods, it burned—like someone had poured fire into his veins, like his blood itself was protesting, begging to be released from the burden. For a moment, he considered cutting it off entirely. That would be easier, wouldn’t it? Just take a blade and remove the evidence, the guilt, the weight. He gritted his teeth.

The truth settled on him like dust in a long-abandoned room: he was a Death Eater now. Just like Draco. Just like Mattheo.

He couldn’t bring himself to face a mirror. He was terrified of what he’d see. He didn’t feel like Theodore anymore, and he feared that if he looked—really looked—he would find not a boy, not a man, but a monster staring back.

His thoughts wandered, as they so often did, to his mother.

Phoena. He remembered her voice through half-closed doors, whispering urgently into the flames of the Floo, her words intended for Ariadne Zabini, but overheard by her curious son. He remembered the fear in her blue eyes, soft and sharp at once, as she murmured of the Dark Lord’s rising power, of a gathering storm with no date, no time, only inevitability. Back then, Theodore hadn’t understood. He’d been seven. He hadn’t known what “war” really meant. He hadn’t known who Harry Potter was, let alone what he represented. He certainly hadn’t imagined that he would be caught in the undertow of a war he couldn’t name—and suffer because of it. He’d stopped listening and gone to play in his mother’s enchanted garden, among topiaries that danced and flowers that sang.

But now? Now he understood everything.

The war had arrived, and the wizarding world was unraveling thread by thread. The Ministry had been hollowed out, overtaken by Death Eaters in Slytherin green and black. Hogsmeade, once charming, now wore the expression of a ghost town. Shops shuttered. Signs smeared in red and black bled hatred: Blood Traitor. Dirty-blooded Filth. Those who resisted were made examples. Those who survived fell silent.

And Theodore had witnessed it firsthand—with you.

He had taken your hand on what had begun as an ordinary day, only to find the streets turned cold and cruel. He saw the signs, the symbols, the fear. And worst of all, he saw what might happen to you. That thought was enough to twist his stomach, to choke him. So he pulled you away.

He missed you. You had been gone all summer, traveling abroad with your parents. He hadn’t seen you, hadn’t held you, hadn’t breathed you in. And now… now he dreaded the moment your eyes would meet his. Would you pull away? Leave him? Would you be afraid? The mere possibility that you might look at him with revulsion—fear—kept him awake at night. The thought of you hating him devoured him from the inside out. And truthfully? He wouldn’t stop you. He hated himself. He was a Death Eater now. A threat. A danger. And yet, Merlin help him, he would sooner die than harm even a strand of your hair.

His mind wavered between thoughts of you and the ghost of his mother. He could almost hear her voice, soft but sure, the way it had sounded when she told him—not once, but again and again—that blood meant nothing, that no name was enough to make someone better than another. It had taken him time, but her words had taken root. Even now, they were the heartbeat behind his thoughts. And now? He had betrayed all of them. Her. You.

How could he possibly honor Phoena Nott when he had joined the very cause she had feared most? When he bore, on his own skin, the mark of the monsters she’d tried to keep him from becoming?

It shattered something inside him. The thought that his mother might look down on him with disgust was a cruelty too sharp to name. It was the kind of pain that made him wonder—truly wonder—if it would be better to follow her into the stars than remain here and be forced to carry out orders that turned his stomach. It wasn’t the first time he had thought about it. Since her death, the darkness inside him had only grown. It spread quietly, like ink in water, staining everything. She was probably watching him now. With those same eyes. Sad. Heavy. Perhaps even grateful she wasn’t alive to witness what her son had become.

And with each passing day, it got worse.

He ignored all your letters, your owls, your calls. He was terrified you would know. You always knew. It drove him mad sometimes, the way you could read him in a sentence, in a silence. If you heard his voice, you’d know, and if you knew—you’d come. You’d apparate straight to the manor and see the wreck he had become. That image alone was enough to send ice through his chest. So he ran from you, the only way he knew how.

But summer didn't last forever.

The train to Hogwarts arrived like a slow, cruel inevitability. He saw you on the platform. His heart screamed. He wanted nothing more than to fall into your arms and cry like the boy he still felt he was. To tell you everything. To let your warmth pull him back from the edge. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t. So he kissed you, quick and careful, as if the taste of you might ground him. Then he turned and entered the compartment, with you just behind him. Of course, you noticed. You always did. Your eyes searched his face, but he only said he was tired. He sank into the seat by the window and pulled you into his side with the arm not marked. The other he kept hidden—buried, shamed, burning. He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. Because that, at least, was something he still knew how to do.

The silence stretched for seven long, aching days.

You noticed it in the way he smoked—cigarette after cigarette, like he was trying to fill his lungs with anything but truth. In the way he drifted through the halls like a ghost, always a few steps ahead, always out of reach. In the way he touched you like he was afraid he’d shatter—quick, hollow kisses that held no warmth, no weight. When you asked him what was wrong, he offered that same tired smile and murmured, “Nothing. Just adjusting to the rhythm of Hogwarts again.”

But you knew better.

And you were hurting.

You thought, perhaps, there was someone else.

Three months apart—how easy it must have been. Somewhere far away, he had met someone prettier, someone with sharper magic, with a purer name. Someone who made more sense under the legacy of Christian Nott. Someone easier to love than you. What else could explain the silence, the coldness, the absence where once there had been fire?

But it was none of that. And you only found out after nights spent unraveling.

It was Friday when Blaise threw his welcome-back party in the Slytherin common room—an open invitation to all houses. You hadn’t wanted to go. Joy felt like a foreign language your body had forgotten how to speak. But your friends insisted, and so you dressed up and crossed the threshold like a stranger in your own skin.

He was there.

You saw him, but you didn’t speak. The ache inside you was too raw, too swollen. So you kept your distance, until the night twisted into something else entirely. Until you found him on the floor of the boys’ bathroom, slumped against the wall like a broken thing, eyes red, lips trembling, drunk and crying. The image knocked the breath from your lungs.

Theodore drank, sometimes. But he didn’t cry—not like this. Not in public. Not in pieces. And in that moment, every suspicion you’d ever had sharpened into clarity—something was deeply, dangerously wrong.

Mattheo helped you—oddly composed, steady beneath the chaos—and together you carried Theodore back to your dormitory. His weight sagged between you, his steps uneven, his words slurred and soft. Once there, you became caretaker and quiet savior: cleaned him up, cradled his head, pressed cool cloths to the feverish pulse at his neck.

“You’re going to be okay,” you whispered, again and again, not knowing if he could hear you, or if you even believed it yourself.

Then came the shower.

He resisted. He wouldn’t let you touch his shirt, wouldn’t meet your eyes. But he was too far gone to hold you off, and his hands fell limp as you peeled the soaked fabric from his body. And that’s when you saw it.

The mark.

The Dark Mark.

Swollen and red and monstrous, crawling across his forearm like a wound that refused to heal.

You stared. Time collapsed around you.

It all made sense—the silence, the distance, the way he couldn’t bring himself to touch you. He wasn’t unfaithful. He was in agony. He hadn’t betrayed you—he had been broken, carved into something he never wanted to be. You felt the shame bloom hot across your chest for ever doubting him.

Theodore followed your gaze. His lips quivered, and then the sobs returned—louder, messier, uncontainable. He wept like a child, and you reached for him without thinking, pulling him against you beneath the pounding water. The sound of it filled the room—rain without mercy, mixing with his cries and your own, salt and sorrow flooding every seam. “I’m sorry,” he gasped against your chest. His voice cracked, and his body trembled. “I didn’t want to—I swear I didn’t—I was forced—”

But the sentence fractured in his throat, and you didn’t make him finish.

You held him tighter.

The rest of the night blurred like a dream unraveling: the two of you curled together, drenched in grief, hearts bleeding quietly in the dark. Eventually, the alcohol stole him away—his body went limp in your arms, breath soft and shallow as he collapsed into his bed. You didn’t sleep. You watched him, every rise and fall of his chest a quiet ache, wondering how this moment would ripple into the rest of his life.

How it would ripple into yours.

When morning broke, you hadn’t so much as drifted. Sleep had eluded you entirely, slipping through your fingers like mist. You’d exchanged your own clothes for one of Theo’s hoodies, soft and clean, carrying the faint scent of him. He lay naked beneath the blankets, his back pressed to your chest, your arms wound around him in a quiet desperation to keep him together—to keep yourself together.

Your mind wouldn’t still. Thoughts circled like vultures. You wondered how this would change him—how he’d be forced into things that stained the soul, things that bent the spine and broke the heart. He, who hated the path they now demanded he walk.

But of one thing you were sure: this would never change the two of you. Your love for Theodore ran deeper than blood, more certain than fate, untouched by any mark. No darkness etched into his skin could ever unravel the thread that tied you to him. Now, more than ever, he needed gentleness. He needed to be held, loved, cared for—needed someone to shelter him the way no one had since Phoena.

And when he stirred awake, you didn’t let him speak. You didn’t let the doubt take root. You only held him tighter, as if your body alone could shield him, and whispered what he needed to hear: that you loved him. That nothing had changed. That you were here, and you weren’t leaving.

That was when he cried harder.

Sober now, the world had returned in sharp edges. And in a single, reckless lapse, he had let you see the most monstrous part of him—the one he kept buried beneath layers of silence and steel. He was certain it would drive you away. But you didn’t recoil. You weren’t afraid. You held him. You soothed him. You whispered sweetness where he expected silence or scorn. If you had been disgusted by him—by his touch—you wouldn’t be there, wrapped around him like he was still worth something. Right?

So he unraveled in your arms. Between broken sobs, he gave you everything—told you how the branding had happened, how his father hadn’t even looked at him after, how he’d feared your reaction more than anything. How he felt he had failed his mother. How he was sick with himself, hollowed out, unfamiliar. How he wanted it all to stop. Just stop.

And you cried with him. You held his grief as tightly as you held him, and whispered into the ruin that he was still loved. That it was okay. That Phoena would never—could never—be disappointed in him. That you loved him beyond measure, beyond reason, beyond repair. And somehow, though the ache still burned, your voice made it bearable.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you,” he murmured once the sobs had finally quieted. His gray eyes were swollen and rimmed red, but they found you—really saw you—for the first time in days. “I was so scared, bella. So scared you’d leave. And the worst part is… I wouldn’t even have tried to bring you back.” He brushed a kiss to your cheek, reverent. “You deserve better than that. But now, i just can't let you go.” His lips wandered from your cheek to your jaw, your neck, your chin—and finally, your mouth. The kiss began slow, a tentative question, but grew hungrier with every second. He caught your lower lip between his teeth with a tenderness that trembled, asking permission, and when you opened to him, he wasted no time. His tongue moved with need, like he was trying to memorize your taste, like your mouth was the only place in the world that still made sense.

You kissed him back with everything you had.

Soon, your bodies were entangled in the most intimate, wordless conversation known to man—one of skin and sighs, of release and return. And after, when the storm of touch had passed, you lay there breathless, limbs heavy, hearts still stuttering.

For a moment, he forgot the world. Forgot the mark. Forgot the weight. There was only you. And in that stillness, he realized something had shifted—not the pain, not the truth, but something quieter. Lighter. Because you were there. Because you stayed.

Even with the wreckage still smoldering inside him, even with the ground so fragile beneath his feet, he knew now—if he fell, you would catch him.

And maybe—just maybe—a fragile thread of hope stirred inside him, trembling and pale, that in the end, somehow, it might all be okay.

[realsp1ke]

my genuine reaction when a writer i love interacts w me

[ginevrapng]

I just want to put an idea in your head that’s been living in mine.

George Weasley x reader x Theo Nott

Smut and all I just feel like a 3sum with them would be nice 😭

thats a good idea omg! i've been ruminating about this concept since i got this ask a couple months back! so i've got a couple of headcanons about them (readers hogwarts house isn't specified) i hope you enjoy this bestie<3

- both are very house proud people. george is much more louder about being a proud gryffindor whereas theo doesn't talk about how much better slytherins are but likes to prove it.

- because of this sex with them together would be super competitive, they both want to give you more pleasure than the other one and love hearing you say their name out of the two of them.

- theo would smirk after you move your hips upwards and arch your back while he's eating you out, trying to get more from him. "who's making you feel this good princess? tell weasley how good you feel."

- george would chuckle as you grab hold of his forearm trying to ground yourself as he fingers you. "that feel good sweetheart? yeah i bet it does. you keep holding onto me tight baby and moan my name."

- theo prefers anal and fucking your thighs, george prefers blowjobs and vaginal sex

- they're definitely not into each other... they don't find each other attractive... if they constantly makeout with each other every time you're sandwiched between them that's no one's business and they won't bring it after.

- if theo will make goading comments to george about how george left hogwarts early and he personally has always been more academic all while wrapping his hand around his throat or pulling him down by his hair so he can help you suck his cock then that's no one's business.

- theo will stay away from teasing about topics that he knows will actually upset george though or make him feel insecure in anyway.

- for example he never brings up fred, even after sex or in a joking matter, knowing that it makes him anxious and insecure about his self worth. all the time you're unknowingly making george feel one of the most amazing men in the world as you babble about how perfect he is, and how he's so hot and big and feels so good as he's thrusting into you. all either you or theo care about is george, neither of you have time for any other weasley or any other gryffindor and george has no other time for any one that isn't the two of you.

- if george teases theo about how he's sleeping with a weasley of all people, a blood traitor and a gryffindor while kissing his neck and leaving love bites across his collarbone and chest that only the three of you to see then that's no one's business. if he's telling knott that he's the only slytherin he knew back in hogwarts who he could ever stand that's no one's business.

- both were serial dating hoppers before they met you, george more than theo though. they both liked being with a new girl every couple of weeks and having one night stands but then you came into both of their lives. before you neither of them had been with a man either.

- definitely have all said 'i love you' in the heat of the moment but never actually talked about it.

[suugarbabe]

theo never really liked smoking. growing up his dad would always smoke really expensive tobacco in a pipe or the fanciest cigarettes. the ones people usually coveted and were hard to get. theo and his dad never got along. theo was always doing something wrong in his dads eyes. too weak. too shy. overall not what mr. nott ever pictured for a son. the smell of tobacco made theo think of his father. so theo hated smoking.

then his mom died the summer before year three.

and theo found himself at the counter of a muggle corner shop, the cheapest pack of cigarettes he could get with the bills he found on the pavement when he went off exploring one day. He smoked one on his way back to diagon alley. The first inhale burned his lungs, but it was a nice distraction than the pain that usually sat in his chest lately.

[ashisgreedy]

The Slytherin Guys HC - Taking off your bra

⚠︎ Suggestive content MDNI | Everyone is over 18+

Mattheo | Theo | Enzo | Draco | Blaise | Tom

Mattheo Riddle - *pop* You’re making out and you wrap your arms around his neck but.. your bra is loose. You have no idea when he reached back and unclasped it, but he was skilled and quick about it.

Theodore Nott - He’d tease his finger along the edge of the bra, cupping your breasts while pushing your bra out of the way. It takes him a few moments, but he manages to get the bra off with both his hands at work on the clasp.

Lorenzo Berkshire - Makes a whole show of having you turn around, kissing your neck and shoulders while teasing the strap of the bra. He slowly unclasps it and then pushes the staps down your shoulders. He loves to do it while you stand in front of a mirror so he can watch as your breasts come into view while the garment slips off you and drops down to the floor.

Draco Malfoy - He’d try (and succeed) by just pulling your bra up and over your head like he did your blouse. His mind is mush since he's about to get laid and he doesn’t have time to think about tiny clasps or how bras work in general. Just get it off!

Blaise Zabini - He reaches one hand back and uses just two fingers to skillfully pinch and unhook the clasp. Your bra is loose in a nanosecond. Then he’s pushing you onto the bed and tossing the garment over his shoulder.

Tom Riddle - He would mostly ignore it in lieu of trying to get into your panties first. You’d have to remove the bra for him and only then will he pay attention to your chest. It's not that he doesn’t care, he’s just in feral mode and desperately wants to be inside you.

[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.

[snetofed]

Cigarettes after sex

WARNING_(Sex, male to female, penetration, moaning, orgasm, jealousy, possessiveness)

The Slytherin Common Room was unrecognizable.

The usual darkness had been broken by hundreds of small green lights floating in the air, spells clumsily cast by a half-drunk Theo and an overly competitive Blaise. Wizarding music played softly, and bottles of Firewhiskey—obviously smuggled—were passed around.

Elizabeth Custer sat in an armchair, her legs elegantly crossed, a glass in hand, surveying the elegant mess with an amused smile.

Mattheo Riddle was at her side, one arm casually draped over the back of the chair behind her, but his body clearly leaning toward Elizabeth, as if subconsciously wanting to keep her close.

"Are you going to stare at me all night, or are you going to kiss me right now?" she murmured without turning around.

Mattheo smirked.

"Don't tempt me, Custer. I don't want to put on a show in front of these idiots."

"Idiots?" "Theo said, walking right past them, two glasses in hand. 'That's offensive, Riddle! I demand an apology… and one of those biscuits Blaise stole from the kitchen.'

'They weren't biscuits, genius,' Blaise sneered from across the room. 'They were brownies… very suspicious.'

'Why suspicious?!' asked Lorenzo Berkshire, who had just arrived, his shirt half-tucked into his trousers, his hair still wet from a hasty shower.

'Because the kitchen elves looked at me strangely when I asked for them,' Blaise shrugged.

Draco Malfoy, leaning against the fireplace with an elegant glass in his hand, rolled his eyes.

'Everything you do, Zabini, is suspicious.'

Pansy Parkinson, sitting on Draco's lap (because, obviously, there weren't enough "decent" seats), let out a high-pitched laugh.

"Half of us are going to end up in St. Mungo's tonight. How exciting."

Mattheo leaned toward Elizabeth, lowering his voice as if they shared a secret.

"If Zabini starts seeing dragons dancing on the ceiling, we're out of here."

Elizabeth laughed softly, her laughter vibrating in her throat, and Mattheo looked at her as if there was nothing else in the world.

"Stop looking at me like that," she whispered, somewhat embarrassed.

"I can't." Mattheo took the glass from her hand and placed it on the coffee table. "You're much more entertaining than these idiots."

Elizabeth was about to reply when Theo dramatically launched himself into an armchair opposite them, spilling part of his glass.

"I propose a game," he announced, waving his wand to summon a spinning bottle. "Or are we too mature for that?"

"Definitely not," Lorenzo said, already pouring himself another glass.

"Perfect!" Theo rubbed his hands together. "Truth or dare. And whoever doesn't want to answer or do his dare…" He smiled like an evil genius, "takes off an item of clothing."

"What are we, Gryffindors?" Draco growled, but slumped down beside Pansy nonetheless.

Blaise raised his glass.

"I'm in. But be warned: I have no dignity to lose."

Everyone laughed, and Elizabeth felt Mattheo slide his hand slowly up her thigh under the guise of "getting settled." Slytherin, after all, knew how to play it his way.

The bottle spun in the center of the table. It went round and round, making everyone sneer at each other. Finally, it stopped, pointing straight at Elizabeth.

"Oooh!" everyone shouted.

"Truth or dare, Custer?" Theo asked, with a wolfish grin.

Elizabeth glanced at Mattheo out of the corner of her eye. He raised an eyebrow, as if challenging her.

"Dare," she said fearlessly.

Theo clapped his hands as if he'd just won the House Cup.

"You have to sit on the lap of someone other than your boyfriend for three minutes."

Mattheo, sipping from his glass, stopped.

"What kind of idiotic Gryffindor dare is that?" he snarled, glaring at Theo.

Theo just grinned.

"What's up, Riddle? Don't you trust your girl?"

Elizabeth stood up with all the theatricality she could muster, walking slowly through the laughter and catcalls. She looked at Draco. No, that would be too awkward. She looked at Blaise. Nah, it would be fun, but Mattheo would kill him. She looked at Theo. Too easy.

Finally, smiling, she sat quietly on Lorenzo Berkshire's lap, who nearly choked on his drink.

"I'm honored, truly," Lorenzo said, not daring to move a muscle.

Mattheo looked at her as if he were recording the scene in his memory… only to get revenge later.

Three endless minutes later, Elizabeth returned to her place next to Mattheo, innocent as an angel.

"Everything alright, love?" she said with a sweet smile.

Mattheo didn't respond. He just put his arm around her waist, pulling her roughly against him.

"We'll talk later," he murmured in her ear, his voice heavy with dangerous promises.

The night continued amid ridiculous challenges, stupid bets, belly-aching laughter, and looks that burned hotter than Firewhiskey.

Slytherin knew how to throw parties.

But Elizabeth knew better: Mattheo Riddle was hers. And when the party was over… it would be all his too.

As the green lights began to dim and the laughter turned to murmurs, Mattheo Riddle grabbed your wrist.

"Come here," he said softly, leading you out of the Common Room with a firm stride.

Without protest. You knew this was coming. And, deep down, you wanted it.

You went up to your room. He closed the door, and before you could say anything, he had you against the wall, his hands on your hips, his body pressed against yours.

"Did you have fun, Custer?" His voice was low, dangerous.

You smiled innocently.

"With what part? With the game? With Lorenzo?" you joked, challenging him.

A low growl escaped his throat.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

His lips descended to your neck, marking his territory with fiery kisses that made you arch against him. His breathing was heavy against your skin.

"Don't ever sit on anyone's lap again," he murmured through gritted teeth. "You're mine."

"What if you provoke me again?" you whispered, amused.

Mattheo lifted his head; his gray eyes burned.

"Then I'll have to remind you… again and again."

He kissed you then, madly, claiming you in a way that left no room for doubt. His hands ran over you as if every inch of your body was rightfully his.

"See how you want me…" he said, separating his lips from my chest and smiling wickedly.

I didn't respond, then he leaned closer to my face and kissed my lips again. Every now and then, we had to break the kiss for a second because we were short of breath.

Suddenly, I noticed Mattheo lower his hands to my thighs and begin to drag my thong down my legs, causing it to fall to the floor. Then, I grabbed his pants and unbuttoned them with great enthusiasm. I could see him smiling as I did so.

When I unbuttoned them, I also pulled down his boxers and began to caress his member with my hands. I could see how big and hard it was.

"Look how you've got me, slut," Mattheo told me, looking down at his member. While I was masturbating his member with my hands, Mattheo took a condom he had stashed away from his pocket. Then, he opened the packet and took it out.

"You put it on me," he ordered, showing me the condom. "But with your mouth…" he added with a seductive smile, looking at my lips.

I stood still, staring into his eyes for a few seconds. I could see his eyes, desperately wanting me to do it.

So I obeyed him and slowly bent down, dropping to my knees on the floor.

Mattheo handed me the condom, and I grabbed it with my hand. Then, I placed the tip of the condom over my lips, holding it.

I began to bring his penis toward my mouth and opened it slightly to let the condom in.

I slowly inserted his penis into my mouth, sliding my lips until I was almost completely inside.

Mattheo gasped as he felt my mouth touch his member, and I felt myself getting more and more choked and almost nauseous, but I finally managed to put the condom on him and pulled my mouth off of it.

"That's my bitch," he said, looking down at me.

He immediately grabbed me by the neck and lifted me back up to face him.

He then grabbed my legs and lifted them so he was holding me in his arms, and I wrapped my legs around his waist and held onto his shoulders. Suddenly, he began to penetrate me, and I moaned softly. This time, it didn't hurt as much because I was already very wet.

At first, he started slowly, but as the minutes passed, he began to thrust harder and faster. We both moaned with pleasure and breathed heavily. It was the first time I heard Mattheo's moans, and I won't deny that they were very gratifying sounds, and they made me get wetter and wetter.

I closed my eyes as I grabbed Mattheo's hair and bit my lips in pleasure. He seemed to like it because every time he did, I gasped and he pounded me harder. The position we were in was truly exhausting, especially for Mattheo, since he had my legs wrapped around me, holding my entire body up, so it was increasingly difficult for us to stay upright and breathe.

"Mattheo… I-I can't take it anymore…" I moaned. Hearing that, Mattheo didn't say anything, but instead, he began to speed up his thrusts.

I felt a release of hormones and moaned carelessly as I felt I finally reached my climax. Mattheo came after me, and we both released all the moans we were hiding inside. It was the best feeling…

That night, between whispers, bites, and desperate caresses, Mattheo Riddle not only punished you… I adored you.

As only a Slytherin in love could: With intensity. With madness. With everything

[sailorgoon13]

Theodore Nott

Basics:

Full Name: Theodore Nott

Nickname: Theo

Gender: Male

Date of Birth: 4 November, 1979

Heritage: English/ Italian

Blood Status: Pure Blood

Wand: Blackthorn, Unicorn hair, 11 3/4", Slightly Flexible

Appearance:

Hair Color: Dark brown, a bit fluffy

Eye Color: Striking baby blue

Skin Tone: Olive

Height: 6'

Body Type: Lean and athletic. Tall, well proportioned

Style: Well-fitted jeans or chinos paired with a crisp button-down shirt or a cashmere sweater. Accessories are key to his look, with luxurious touches like leather loafers, silk scarves, and perhaps even a designer watch or cufflinks. His color palette leans towards darker tones like charcoal, navy, and deep burgundy

Features: Confidence, Mysterious aura, Sharp wit, Distinctive voice, Leadership

Personality:

Traits: Reserved, Loyal, Manipulative, Intelligent, Emotionally Complex

Likes: Privacy, Fine literature, Refines tastes, Debates, Chess

Dislikes: Arrogance, Lack of ambition, Betrayal

Hobbies: Quidditch, Reading, Playing Piano

Fears: Vulnerability, Rejection, Turning to the Darker side

Family and Friends:

Father: Mr. Nott

Valued Pure-Blood status

Supporter of Voldemort's cause/ Death Eater

Mother: Mrs. Nott

Died when Theo was young

Instilled his love for literature and fine art

Taught him Italian

Friends: Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Lorenzo Berkshire, Mattheo Riddle

Magic:

Special Abilities: His father taught him darker magic when he was young, though he doesn't like to use any of it. Particularly good at charms and hexes

Boggart: A memory of when he witnessed his mother dying

Patronus: Fox

Polyjuice: Would look velvety black with sparkling flecks of gold and silver. Smell like earthy Italian herbs and leather books with a hint of roses. It might taste like dark chocolate infused with hints of espresso and blackberry, with a subtle undertone of smoky oak and vanilla

Amortentia: Bergamont, Sandalwood, Freshly Brewed Coffee, Dark Chocolate

Backstory:

Theodore Nott was born into a prestigious pure-blood wizarding family, his childhood filled with the enchanting landscapes and rich cultural heritage of Italy. His mother, a talented witch with a passion for art, literature, and music, imparted upon him a love for the finer things in life. She taught him how to speak Italian, play the piano, and appreciate the beauty of the magical world around them.

However, Theodore's childhood took a tragic turn when his mother passed away, leaving him with a profound sense of loss. Compounding his grief was the revelation that his father, though also deeply devoted to his family, had been a follower of Voldemort. With Voldemort's downfall, Theo's father met his demise, leaving Theo with conflicting emotions and a sense of isolation.

Despite his father's past affiliations, he distanced himself from his family's dark legacy, choosing instead to honor his mother's memory by embracing the values she had instilled in him. He found comfort in the company of his friends, particularly during Christmas vacations and over the summer, when he would often stay with classmates Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Mattheo Riddle, and Enzo Berkshire.

Throughout his years at Hogwarts, Theodore excelled academically and athletically, distinguishing himself as a talented and ambitious student. His keen intellect, strategic mind, and refined tastes set him apart from his peers, earning him both admiration and envy. Despite facing teasing and discrimination for his softer side and Italian accent, Theo remained resilient, drawing strength from the bonds of friendship that sustained him.

He discovered a passion for Quidditch, becoming the star keeper for the Slytherin team. With each dive and save, he felt a sense of freedom and exhilaration, leaving behind the weight of his worries and losses, if only for a moment.

Academics:

Best Subject: Charms

Favorite Subject: DADA (But he won't tell you its really Astronomy)

Favorite Professor: Flitwick

Worst Subject: Ancient Runes

Least Favorite Subject: Divination

Least Favorite Professor: Slughorn

Student Life:

Academically excels in his studies, particularly in subjects like Potions and Charms

A regular fixture in the Hogwarts library, spending hours poring over ancient texts and refining his magical skills, teaching himself a new language, (Or really just hiding behind a romance novel)

Respected by his classmates for his intellect and admired for his cool demeanor, though some may find him enigmatic or intimidating.

He enjoys spending time in the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch, honing his skills as Keeper

He also indulges in his love for art, literature, and music

Girls at Hogwarts are drawn to Nott's confidence, intelligence, and refined tastes, finding themselves mesmerized by his cool demeanor and mysterious aura

While he remains discreet about his romantic interests, there is no shortage of girls vying for his attention and affection.

Template: @hazyange1s

[volturissideslut]

𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖔𝖉𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖙

It's 7am so here's drop number 7

The cold crisp air of Scotland pierces through your skin, even on a warm day like today. Sunlight wafts through the curtains and you can almost smell the dewey grass from your place in bed. Not that you’re going to leave, anyway. The warmth sucks you back in, as well as your human radiator of a boyfriend who has his arms wrapped around you, keeping you safe and secure, pulled against his chest.

The rise and fall from his breathing has you entranced in your bleary morning state, and while you would love to stay and keep cosy and work you really, really, need to pee. However, one slight predicament is that your squirming in attempt to get out of his hold is doing absolute nish. 

“Theo, theo please” you tap at his arm incessantly, getting nothing but a tired hum from him. Fine, if that’s how he wants it to be time to pull out the big guns. With one forceful gesture you sit up straight, not that he's bothered, and then loudly announce that you’re headed back to your own common room  to ‘study with Charlie from potions’, a shy guy with an obvious crush on you according to Theo.

Now he’s up.

“Oh, no your not,” his voice is deep from the morning “I’m top of class, you’ll study with me” his arms wrap around your sides and tug you closer. Not so gracefully, you fall back and your head hits the pillow. If your darling boyfriend had opened his eyes and saw then he would definitely be smirking right now from how that was just meant to be.

“You won’t have a girlfriend to study with if you don’t let me go to the loo Theo!”

With a dramatic huff and a fake whinge he lets go, sitting up with a dopey smile to watch you scurry off. 

When you get back you just straight back into his bed, huddling close and stealing his warmth. A welcome change from the cool air. Theo sits back, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. Teasingly, he pokes your side. “Thought you had to leave and study with good old Charlie?”

“I lied” you cling to him, physically moving his arms for him so that they wrap around you like earlier.

"I know" he chuckles.

[pizzaapeteer]

theo nott has a record player and listens to while he reads

[govnder]

i've been thinking a lot about some darker theo, and this idea came to my mind. is usually not what i write, but i had so much fun thinking about this that i might do it again!

tw: obsession, mentions of fight and masturbation, stalking, possessive!theo.

c.ai inspired bot!

likes and reblogs are appreciated <3

stalker!theo who hadn’t truly seen you until fourth year—until that ill-fated tuesday in potions, when your hair, by some misstep of alchemy, blossomed into a vivid, electric blue. He had seen you before, of course—ghosting through corridors, seated rows ahead in lecture halls—but never with intent. Never with interest. But that day, as you cursed your failure under your breath, eyes gleaming with a frustration that was almost incandescent, something in him shifted. There was beauty in your rage, in the way you clenched your jaw against incompetence, and Theodore Nott, for the first time, stared.

stalker!theo who began to notice you in unbearable clarity. The way your teeth toyed with your bottom lip when your mind wandered. How that single, disobedient lock of hair refused to stay behind your ear, despite your stubborn refusal to tie it back. How your eyes sharpened into something deadly when Snape dismissed your question with typical cruelty—and how you restrained yourself, just barely, from lashing back.

stalker!theo who orchestrated a collision outside divination, knocking your books from your arms in a deliberate, well-rehearsed stumble. He knelt, gathered your belongings with dramatic courtesy, expecting—no, knowing—a moment. But you only offered a dismissive “it’s nothing” and walked away briskly, as if unaware of who he was. The thought that you might not know him—him—was insulting in a way that thrilled him.

stalker!theo who watched you go, jaw tight and unbothered, and found himself smiling. You had intrigued him. And now that he’d noticed you, he couldn’t seem to look away.

stalker!theo who created small moments to weave himself into your life. Who crushed your quill beneath his boot while you were gone, only to offer his own with a shrug when you returned. Who warned you against over-floured pasta in the Great Hall, because his italian roots would never forgive such culinary disrespect. These subtle threads he spun daily, until you were quietly wrapped in the beginning of a web.

stalker!theo who paid a boy to bother you, just enough to warrant a rescue. And he was there, of course—emerging from the shadows like a scene from a poorly written romance. His fists met the boy’s face with controlled violence, and he made sure you were watching. That you saw how fiercely he could protect what was his.

stalker!theo who wove a careful friendship around you like silk. Who now walked beside you between classes, laughed with you over pumpkin juice, and accompanied you to Hogsmeade, where his fingers would brush yours on warm mugs of butterbeer.

stalker!theo who realized one morning that you had become the first thought in his mind. And then, late that night, the last.

stalker!theo who noticed how his blood simmered every time another boy looked at you for too long. The urge to break noses, crack ribs—it was always there, curling under his skin like smoke.

stalker!theo who watched the lines blur. Interest had long since soured into obsession. Quiet, consuming, and absolute.

stalker!theo who crept into your dormitory after dark, silent as shadow, just to watch the rise and fall of your chest as you slept. Who smiled at the small glisten of drool at the corner of your mouth, the way your body curled beneath your sheets like something soft, something his. Who touched himself to the sight of you—biting down on his knuckles to keep quiet, to not wake you.

stalker!theo who sent veiled threats to your friends from untraceable numbers, demanding private information they had no right to share. Most of them obeyed.

stalker!theo who messaged you too—anonymously. 'That dress made your waist look divine.' 'That little pajama set was sinfully adorable.' 'You should lock your window at night, sweetheart.' Each message a whisper down your spine.

stalker!theo who watched the fear bloom behind your eyes, and held you when you trembled. Who whispered against your hair that no one would hurt you again. That you were safe now. With him.

stalker!theo who left gifts—absurd, expensive things. Velvet boxes holding delicate necklaces or lace underwear with handwritten notes that said, 'Wear this for me. Only me.'

stalker!theo who stayed with you one night, your body curled into his, arms looped around your waist like a shackle made of warmth. You sighed into sleep, thinking you were safe. You had no idea.

stalker!theo who lay awake that night memorizing the cadence of your breathing, realizing he had never wanted anything as much as he wanted you. Who no longer cared what was right, or sane, or real. Only that you remained his. Entirely his.