your love is deadly ♡

𝜗𝜚 ⁺‧₊˚ ♰

[softerthansatinn]

❥ don't talk to strangers or you might fall in love

rosie. 19. she/her. writer. reality shifter. steve harrington's brooklyn baby ♡

currently writing for... rafe cameron & steve harrington

𓆩♡𓆪 about me. rules. masterlists. previously @hapinesbuterfiy

© softerthansatinn est. 2024

[sweetproclivity-deactivated2025]

bsf!rafe begging you to let him fuck you.

ᥫ᭡. based on this ask! 18+, smut!

"rafe, stop." you giggled, gently pushing against him. you weren't actually trying to get him to stop. truthfully, you didn’t want him to stop. you two had been playfully arguing, wrestling each other until it turned into.... this. his hands on your hips as he kissed and nipped at your neck.

rafe's fingers wrap around wrists, guiding your hands up where he pins them to the mattress. he leans back down, trailing kisses down your neck. "please, baby." rafe murmured softly against your skin. his lips were like fire against your skin, each kiss felt like fire, your skin tingling.

you let out a soft sigh, your fingers running through his hair. your resolve was crumbling, like it always did with rafe. hearing rafe beg and say please was like music to your ears and he knew that. anytime rafe wanted anything, he'd immediately start begging, knowing you couldn't say no. and he also knew how much you loved to hear him beg, which just fueled his motivation to do it.

"rafe..." you trail, your voice tinted with warning as his lips continued on your neck. "come on, baby, please. i'll make you feel so fuckin' good, i promise." he whimpered, his head tilting as he switched sides, kissing along the other side of your neck. "you know i'll take care of you."

── .✦

"shit, you're so fuckin' tight." rafe grunted, his hips snapping against yours as he drove his cock in and out. you mewled beneath him, already too cock drunk to form any coherent sentences. "gettin' fucked dumb by your best friend, huh? shit — you like that, don't you, princess?"

"you like your best friend fucking your tight little pussy, huh? you like your best friends cock stretching you out?" rafe smiled down at you, your eyes rolling back in your head as he continued to fuck you with slow, deep strokes. rafe's hand reaches up, gently brushing back some of your hair that had gotten on your face. he leaned down, his lips hovering over your ear. "you look so beautiful like this... with my cock buried deep inside you."

rafe guided you through three orgasms, with you finally tapping out after the third, spent and practically crying. "uh uh, baby. i want more. god knows the next time i'll have your pretty little pussy wrapped around me again." rafe's large hands reached down, pressing against the back of your thighs. using his weight and muscles, rate pressed your thighs back until your knees were touching your chest. balancing himself with a hand on the back of each thigh, using that as leverage to pound into you. his cock was driving deeper than before, his tip kissing your cervix with each thrust.

the sounds of his skin snapping against yours and your loud cries of pleasure filled the bedroom. you gripped the bedsheets for dear life as you felt your fourth orgasm of the night coming up. rate's thrusts were relentless, the squelching sounds of his cock driving into your soaked pussy was like music to his own ears. rafe looked down at where your bodies connected, a loud moan escaping from his lips. his large muscles flexed with each thrust, only spiraling you closer and closer to your next orgasm.

rafe took one hand from one of your thighs, using it to reach down and press his thumb against your clit, rubbing tight circles. your back arched off the mattress, a loud cry of pleasure leaving your lips and filling the room. "that's it, baby. come on. come for me." and that's all it took for your orgasm to rip through you, your body shaking and rafe's name leaving your lips like a mantra. "that's it, come all your best friends cock." rafe moaned. the way your pussy squeezed him like vice was all rafe needed to go over the edge, spilling his seed deep inside you.

"you've got the best pussy in all of outer banks. don't think this was our last time, princess."

[starkeymeow]

plot ── stranded on a desolate beach in morocco after the storm, you and rafe, exes bound together by circumstance, sit in the aftermath, surrounded by wreckage both around you and between you.

content ── LYRICS from we hug now by sydney rose!! exes-to-something, rafe as the ex obvi, heavy emotions, angst, post-storm aftermath, some swearing, no real plot just feelings

authors note ── hi ik this isnt ‘waking up to you’ or anything but THIS SONG has been STUCK in my HEAD for the last week its sooo ughhbbrbrbhhendnejd, i also had a whole plot story to this n had to cut like 70% of it so it wasnt too long to read omg

the fire crackles, sending embers into the air that flicker for a moment before disappearing into the dark. it’s small, but enough to keep everyone warm, enough to make it feel like they still have something to hold onto.

you’ve sat next to kiara, eyes distant, barely focused. the silence stretches, heavy, before john b speaks again.

“maybe they just washed up further down the beach,” he says, voice strained, raw. he’s referring to sarah and jj, who none of you have seen since the storm. “we just gotta keep looking.”

a beat.

he’s holding onto everything before he lets himself believe that sarah and jj are gone. you don’t blame him.

“we’ll look at first light,” kie says, determined, like she refuses to think otherwise.

you believe it too. or maybe you just need to.

the firelight flickers in rafe’s eyes as he stares into it, his expression unreadable, but you know he’s feeling everything the rest of you are. after everything, after all of this, he’s part of this now. he always has been.

“i’m gonna, uh . . . try to get some shut-eye,” he murmurs, voice low, uncertain. he knows no one will really care, knows the others will probably stay up because they can’t sleep. he wants to at least try. try to sleep it off and not have to think about his sister being gone.

but when he pushes himself up, brushing sand off his hands, you gather your jacket and move too. “me too,” you mumble, though it’s not really about the sleep.

you don’t know what you’re looking for, not exactly. but you know that wherever rafe goes, that’s where you’ll settle too.

he chooses a spot just a few feet away from the fire, still close enough to feel the warmth but lower, on the slope of the beach where the sand is softer. at first, he doesn’t lay down. just sits, staring out at the dark, endless stretch of sand.

you pull your jacket on, the sleeves slightly damp still, and lower yourself beside him. knees pulled to your chest, arms draped loosely over them. the fire crackles behind you, but all you hear is the ocean. relentless, constant.

you shift your gaze away from him, staring down at the sand between your boots. your thoughts are too loud, crashing into each other in a way that makes your head ache, but still, you speak, “you think they’re still out there?”

the words leave your mouth before you can second-guess them, before you can stop yourself from making the air even heavier than it already is.

rafe doesn’t move at first. doesn’t even blink. his eyes stay locked on the dark horizon, but after a long moment, he exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head.

“jesus, y/n,” he mutters, his voice rough, edged with something unreadable. “can we not?” he doesn’t say it with anger, but there’s something firm in the way he says it, something final.

your throat tightens, and you press your lips together, inhaling slowly through your nose. he’s right. all you’ve done today is think and talk about it. but stopping, letting it go, even just for a second, feels impossible. still, you don’t argue.

you want to say something, anything, but your mind feels empty, exhausted, useless until you remember earlier. the closet. the way his wrists were tied. the way his eyes burned into yours when you placed the food in front of him, like he didn’t know whether to thank you or hate you for it.

the way he spat those words at you like he’d been holding them in for months. your stomach twists at the thought, and before you can stop yourself, you glance at him again.

“you meant what you said earlier?” your voice is quieter this time, careful.

rafe finally turns his head toward you, brow furrowing slightly, “when?”

“back in the closet.”

his jaw tightens. you can see the way his fingers flex against his knees, the slight shift in his posture, like he already regrets looking at you.

you swallow, steadying yourself before continuing, “you said it looked like i just left you behind.” your voice wavers, but you push through it. “like you weren’t anything to me anymore.”

a sharp exhale leaves his nose. he rubs a hand across his temple, shaking his head. “yeah, well, i did mean that,” he mutters, voice lower now, strained. “doesn’t mean i wanna fucking talk about it.”

you look down, biting the inside of your cheek. but you don’t drop it. “but you just said you meant it,” you press, watching the way his knee bounces slightly, a restless habit he’s always had.

he doesn’t answer right away. his throat bobs as he swallows, his fingers twitching like he wants to reach for something but doesn’t know what. “what’d you expect me to think, y/n?” his voice is rough. “you look at me like i’m nothing. like i’m not even worth thinking about.”

his words cut deep, but there’s no real anger behind them. just exhaustion. and your breath catches slightly, but you don’t look away from him.

“you were something to me, rafe,” you say, and there’s no hesitation this time. “you still are.”

his head turns fully now, his eyes locking onto yours, searching. but he doesn’t say anything, and then he exhales, long and slow, shaking his head as he looks back at the sand, “doesn’t feel like it.”

the silence between you stretches, but there’s more to say. you know it. he knows it.

rafe exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face before settling his elbows on his knees again, fingers twisting together. you can feel the tension radiating off of him, the way he keeps shaking his head slightly like he’s trying to physically push the thoughts out of his head. but he can’t.

so you shift slightly, pulling your knees tighter against your chest, and before you can second-guess yourself, you whisper, “just say it.”

rafe’s head turns toward you, brow furrowed. “what?”

you swallow, watching him carefully. “everything you’re thinking about. everything you haven’t said. just—” you gesture vaguely, feeling the exhaustion pulling at you, but pushing through it. “get it out.”

rafe scoffs under his breath, shaking his head again, eyes flicking back toward the fire. “doesn’t matter,” he mutters. “not like it changes anything.”

“maybe not,” you admit, voice softer now. “but you’re gonna lose your mind if you keep it all in.”

he doesn’t say anything for a long moment. just stares at the flames, his jaw tight, his knee bouncing slightly. but then, he breathes, shaking his head as his voice drops lower.

“it just— it feels like everything got fucked, y’know?” he mutters, his hands twitching against his knees. “all of it. like, one second, we’re—” he gestures vaguely between you, his voice almost bitter, probably referring to when you two were together, “—and then the next, you just see right through me, like i was never anything to you. and now sarah a— and jj,” his voice catches slightly, and he drags a hand through his hair, “i don’t know how the fuck we’re supposed to come back from this.”

you watch him, feeling your chest tighten, feeling your fingers dig into the fabric of your jacket. but you don’t interrupt, you just let him talk.

“you’re supposed to trust the people who give a shit about you,” he continues, but it’s like it’s physically hurting him to say it. “but it’s like, i don’t know. i don’t know where i stand anymore. and it’s fucking exhausting.”

he exhales again, shaking his head, muttering under his breath. “and maybe it’s selfish,” his voice cracks slightly, but he pushes through it. “but all i can think about is how much i fucking hate feeling like this. like i’m—”

he stops.

presses his lips together.

but you already know the words sitting on the edge of his tongue.

like he’s alone.

like he always has been.

your throat tightens.

your fingers twitch slightly against your knees.

and then, quieter now, almost like he’s afraid to say it,

“i have a feeling you got everything you wanted,” he mutters, his voice raw. “and you’re not wasting time stuck here like me. you’re just thinking it’s a small thing that happened.”

he exhales sharply, his hands clenching into fists as his gaze drops back to the sand.

“the world ended when it happened to me.”

the words settle between you, heavy and unshakable. you stare at him, your breath caught somewhere in your throat. because for the first time, rafe isn’t just angry. he isn’t just bitter or frustrated or hiding behind sharp words and sharp edges. he’s just hurt. and for the first time, he’s actually letting you see it.

he won’t look at you now, his jaw tight, his hands still curled into fists against his knees. his shoulders rise and fall with each slow, uneven breath, like he’s trying to keep himself together, like he’s afraid that if he doesn’t, he’ll unravel completely.

and you get it.

because you feel it too.

you shift slightly, your fingers twitching against your jacket, your chest tight with something that feels dangerously close to regret. you don’t know how to fix this, how to make up for everything unsaid, for everything broken between you. maybe you can’t. but you can at least try.

you inhale slowly, pressing your lips together before speaking, voice barely above a whisper.

“it wasn’t a small thing.”

rafe’s head turns slightly, but he doesn’t look at you. his jaw clenches, like he’s waiting for you to say something else, like he’s expecting an argument, but you don’t argue. you just exhale, gaze flickering to the horizon.

“it never was,” you continue, quieter now. “not to me.”

rafe is silent, but his fists loosen slightly, his shoulders drop just a little.

you shift again, your knee brushing against his, and you don’t move away. you don’t pull back like you normally would, don’t let yourself retreat into the silence. instead, you let it happen. you let the warmth of his skin ground you, let the steady rise and fall of his breath remind you that, after everything, you’re both still here.

his fingers twitch against his knee. and then, so quietly you almost miss it,

“then why did it feel like i was nothing to you?”

your breath catches. finally, rafe looks at you. his eyes are dark, but there’s something else there now. something raw, something unguarded. he’s not just asking because he’s angry. he’s asking because he needs to know. and you owe him an answer.

you wet your lips, fingers curling around the fabric of your jacket as you search for the right words. “i don’t know,” you admit, voice small. “i don’t— i didn’t mean for it to feel like that.”

rafe exhales through his nose, tilting his head back slightly, staring up at the sky like he’s trying to find answers in the stars. “then what did you mean for it to feel like?”

you swallow. “like i was scared,” you whisper. “like i didn’t know what to do. like— like everything was changing too fast and i couldn’t keep up.”

rafe doesn’t say anything for a long moment. but then, after what feels like an eternity, “yeah,” he mutters, voice low. “i get that.” and you believe him.

because despite everything, rafe does get it. he knows what it feels like to lose control, to feel like the ground is shifting beneath you faster than you can catch your balance. he knows what it’s like to be left behind.

and maybe that’s why he doesn’t pull away when you shift closer, when you let your shoulder press lightly against his.

maybe that’s why he sighs, just barely, and leans into you, too.

the fire crackles softly, casting warm light over the both of you, over the quiet understanding that settles between you.

you don’t say anything else.

you don’t need to.

because for the first time in a long time, the silence between you doesn’t feel like something broken.

it just feels like peace.

a/n: crying cs i didnt know how to end this honest LMFOAOA

[rafesbows]

pls pls do rafe with reader who literally won’t shut up. like she just yaps all the time and so he has her give him head and she’s trying to talk through it so he makes her gag on purpose rip

"jesus christ, do you ever shut up?"

rafe's voice was heavy with amusement, his head tipped back against the couch as he palmed lazily at the bulge in his sweats. you were kneeling between his legs, nails tracing up his thighs as you continued running your mouth.

"i'm just saying, i don't get why you're always acting like you don't love hearing me talk," you pouted, tilting your head. "i mean, you're the one who always—"

"yeah, yeah," he cut you off with a smirk, dragging a thumb over your bottom lip. "you know what would really prove your point?"

you blinked up at him. "what?"

he grinned. "put that pretty mouth to better use."

before you could fire back, rafe was already tugging at the waistband of his sweats, pulling his cock free, thick and heavy in his grip. your lips parted instinctively, tongue darting out, but even as you wrapped your hand around him, you still had something to say.

"you know, i feel like you never ask me to—"

rafe groaned, shaking his head. "jesus, baby."

he didn’t give you time to finish the thought, just gripped your hair and guided you down until your lips wrapped around the flushed tip. you gave an experimental suck, swirling your tongue, but, of course, you tried talking again.

"mmf—i was saying—"

rafe huffed out a laugh, watching the way your lips moved against him. "are you seriously—" he groaned as you mumbled something around his cock, the vibrations shooting straight up his spine. "fucking hell. you really can't help yourself, huh?"

you looked up at him through your lashes, batting your eyes innocently.

"alright, baby," he murmured, tightening his grip in your hair. "guess i gotta make you stop talkin'."

before you could react, he thrust forward, forcing himself deeper into your mouth. your eyes widened as he hit the back of your throat, your hands flying up to grip his thighs, nails digging in.

"mmf—"

"what was that?" rafe taunted, his tone dripping with mockery as he gave another sharp roll of his hips. "you were saying?"

your throat constricted around him as you gagged, tears pricking your eyes, but rafe only groaned at the sensation.

"fuck, baby," he rasped, holding you there for a moment, watching the way your lashes fluttered. "s'what i thought."

he loosened his grip just enough for you to pull back, sucking in a breath, your lips slick with spit as you glared up at him.

"asshole," you muttered, voice hoarse.

rafe grinned, thumbing at your bottom lip. "keep talking, baby," he challenged. "see where it gets you.

you knew exactly where it would get you.

and you still didn’t shut up.

@ rafesbows

[amourane]

hate the way you smile

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

genre: fluff, angst, comedy, e2l + childhood enemies??

w/c: 4.7k

summary: from the second you met theodore nott you knew that your life would be torturous and that the boy would never leave you alone but maybe forever isn't so bad with theodore nott.

warnings: none just a lot of bickering

a/n: omg this one is a bit long but i finished it!

From the moment that you met Theodore Nott at the bright age of five you knew you would hate him forever. Maybe it was the way he would sneer at you with distaste or the way he would mock you for being a big crybaby whenever he took your toys. All you knew was that you simply loathed his presence.

Your families had been friends and they had initially thought that you and Theo would get along since you were both the same age. What they didn’t expect was the young boy to rip the heads of your dolls and proceed to mock you for crying your heart out. Yet even with all of your constant bickering your families still met up every holiday, bringing the demon child with them to torment your life.

Since that day your childhood was filled with cruel laughter and the mischievous eyes that would watch wherever you went.  At age seven, Theodore Nott found it appropriate to fill your bathtub with toads causing you to shriek out in terror when you opened the bathroom door, and him, to run away with glee at your horrified face. At age nine, he thought it would’ve been funny to surprise you by dumping a bucket load of pumpkin juice all over you and he cackled at your expected screams of anger. What he didn’t expect was for you to retaliate by smashing a tray of cauldron cakes into his face. 

Needless to say the war between you two started way back then and it had continued, the only difference being that now you both were more mature and civilised and there was no room for childish pranks.

“Suck my cock you mangled prat, I hope you trip and fall to your death you insignificant shit goblin!” 

At least so you thought.

You made a move and lunged for Theodore Nott’s throat as anger flared in your eyes. No one paid mind to the scene that was unfolding before them afterall it was a common occurrence for the last six years. 

“You enchanted my hair green!” You shrieked as you shook the brunette violently. “Are you out of your mind Nott? I thought we agreed we wouldn’t mess with each other’s appearances, what happened to that?” 

Theodore simply smirked and you felt your fury bubble inside you. He tilted his head to the right and acted as if he was actually pondering your question. If you could you would have been breathing flames as you felt yourself grow more livid as every second went by. 

“Hmm…I like your hair L/n, really suits the whole vibe you’re going for, don't you think bella?” Theo flashed you a wicked grin as he reached out to twirl a lock of your hair between his fingers. You slapped his hand away.

“And what vibe am I going for Nott? Please enlighten me since you apparently are the one making decisions for me.”

You should’ve just walked away. You really should’ve just cursed him out and gone to Madam Pomfrey for some sort of remedy instead of staying and entertaining whatever shit-faced idea he had come up with. The moment you saw the smug smirk that spread across his face and the dangerous twinkle in his eyes you knew he was going to spew some absolute bullshit. And you were right.

“Well obviously it’s a statement declaring that you’re mine, why else would you dye your hair to match my house?” The Slythering feigned disbelief, clutching his hands to his chest innocently. “But Salazar, I didn’t know you would be so bold about your feelings towards me bella.”

You felt heat rise and settle on your cheeks as you tried to come up with a colourful comeback to wipe the stupid smirk off his face but the words die in your throat. It was against your will but you could feel your face growing hotter as he continued to stare at you with that flirty glint in his eyes. Your brain spluttered to a stop and you scrambled desperately for something to say.

“Fuck you Nott.” You seethed before storming away with your hands balled into fists. You could hear the whispers of students and you could feel their stares as you stomped to the infirmary, determined to find some way to get your hair back to normal. 

Theodore Nott was the biggest pain in the arse you knew and he had never stopped being one. You still remembered when you had received your letter to Hogwarts and he had scoffed at the sight asking why Hogwarts would want a half-wit like you. Needless to say your parents weren’t surprised at the cries that erupted a second later from both you and him.

Throughout your years the two of you had become known for the obvious tension and pure hatred you harboured for each other though it did seem to lean on your side a bit more than it did to his. It had been the same for the first three years, bickering, pranks and whatnot. Then fourth year came and the scrawny boy you once knew had magically grown much taller and his face had lost a lot of the baby fat it once had. All at once Theodore Nott became one of the most sought after boys in Hogwarts and it only made you loathe him more. It made his ego triple in size and it made him much more flirty towards everyone but you seemed to be his number one target. All you wanted to do was to take your wand and puncture that bloated head of his.

Though his appearance changed he still was the boy you knew since you were a child and whenever he smiled you could see the same boyish grin he had way back when he was five. He had always been the same but now he just had a much more pretty face to disguise the fact he was a blithering idiot.

Theo watched as you stormed off, his smile never once leaving his face. He loved to mess with you purely to see the visceral anger that radiated off you every single time. The way you would try to stare him down but the action proved useless as he was much taller allowing him to simply look down smugly. It amused him to see how your reactions never changed. 

Ever since you were five you held the same expressions: whenever you were mildly irritated by him you would chew on your bottom lip, whenever you were pissed your eyes would double in size and you’d look like a fire-breathing dragon, and whenever he made you upset you would stare blankly without a word. He’d only ever made you truly upset once and when seeing your face he knew he would never do it again because even if the two of you bickered and fought he would never hurt you.

“Sometimes I think you’re secretly dating because you should see the way you’re daydreaming hopelessly while staring at L/n’s retreating figure Nott, you look like a bloody imbecile.” Draco slapped Theo’s back startling him out of his own thoughts. He scoffed after realising what his friend was implying.

“Oh Salazar’s balls I think I’m going to regurgitate my breakfast. You’ve gone insane if you even think for a second there’s a chance I fancy that creature.”

Laughter erupted from his friends and they continued to mock and tease him obviously not being mature enough to handle the situation with grace.

“I would rather shag the giant squid than date L/n and I’m sure the feeling is mutual.”

Mattheo hummed to himself and smirked. He placed his arm on Theo’s shoulder. “Well then can I ask her out? She’s real hot and I think she’d be interested.”

“L/n might be stupid Riddle but she wouldn’t ever go out with you or even give you the time of day. So don’t even think about doing it.” And with that he left and his friends exchanged knowing glances before bursting into another fit of laughter at their friend’s own obliviousness.

//

This was so not your day. 

Never in your life had you forgotten to hand in homework yet one silly slip up had cost you to spend your free afternoon in detention. It wasn’t your fault you had mixed up the dates on when the transfiguration homework was due. 

You begrudgingly opened the classroom doors, finding a seat to sit down for the next hour. At least you were able to catch up on some other classes while you were in detention otherwise you thought you would’ve gone mad. You looked around the classroom save for Professor McGonagall who had already greeted you when you walked in there was no one else there. 

It hadn’t even been a minute when the doors burst open to reveal a very tall and very smug Slytherin.

“Mr Nott, glad for you to join us, find a seat please.”

Theo's grin faltered as his eyes locked onto yours, a flicker of confusion dancing across his features before it was swiftly replaced by his trademark smirk. He made his way toward you, closing the distance until there were mere centimetres separating you from him.

“Now L/n, Nott, I have important business to tend to so I assume the both of you are mature enough to sit through this detention. I hope that I don’t hear about any incidents when I am gone.”

It was as if your nightmare had all of a sudden come to life as you watched McGonagall leave the classroom. You tried to protest but it fell upon deaf ears as the professor had already left the room, leaving you stuck with your nemesis.

You whipped your head to face the brunette, irritation flashing in your eyes. Why had he chosen to sit next to you when there were plenty of other seats available? The classroom was far from crowded, yet here he was, invading your personal space with his mere presence

“Why are you sitting next to me Nott?”

“Why can’t I? Do you happen to own every seat in this classroom?” He teased. “I didn’t think you did, so I’m going to sit where I want.”

You grumbled under your breath at his stubbornness, getting up to pack your things. “Fine, but then I’m moving.”

Before you could make your move, Theo reached out and grabbed your arm. “Hey slow down, I have a perfect seat right here.” Your irritation flared at his audacity, and you shot him a scathing glare as he gestured to his lap with a smug smirk. “Why don’t you-”

“Nott, if you seriously propose that I sit in your lap I will hex you to oblivion.”

“Okay!” Theo held his hands up in mock surrender, his expression feigning innocence as he cocked his head to the side, the smirk never once leaving his face. “Stay here, I won’t bother you, I swear.”

You eyed him cautiously, your scepticism evident. You weighed the options before you reluctantly sat back down. “Fine.”

A quiet hush befell the classroom and all that could be heard was the scratching of quills on parchment. That is until you were interrupted by a persistent poking sensation that disrupted your concentration, each jab of the quill more annoying than the last. You clenched your jaw as you tried to ignore Theo but you knew he wouldn’t stop until you gave him attention and there was no way you were giving him the satisfaction of reacting. So he continued to poke and poke and poke. 

His incessant poking finally pushed you over the edge, prompting a sharp hiss of irritation from your lips. "What?" You snapped, unable to contain your frustration any longer.

“What are you doing here?” 

If there was a competition for incompetence Theodore Nott would sure have won first place.

“Detention obviously.”

“Oh you know what I meant, why are you in detention? Did you do something stupid? Wait, you do that all the time I forgot.” You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to roll them right out of your skull. "Tell me, bella," He continued, his voice laced with faux innocence. "I don't bite."

“Forgot my homework.” You reluctantly mumbled under your breath, feeling all too claustrophobic at how close he was to you. “Not that big of a deal.”

“Oh but it is.”

“What does that even mean, Nott?” Your eyes narrowed. Theo’s face twisted into a playful smirk and he was so close that you could practically hear his heart beating.

He chuckled, undeterred by your hostility. "But it's not like you to forget your homework," He teased, leaning in closer. "There must be something distracting you. Perhaps... thoughts of me?"

As if on instinct your hands reached out to push the unbearable boy away from you and you immediately got up at his incredulous words. You saw the way laughter bubbled and slipped from his lips, mocking you which only added more fuel to the evergrowing fire.

"In your dreams, Nott," You retorted, your voice laced with venom as you rose from your seat, your movements quick and determined. "I would sooner volunteer for a Dementor's kiss than waste a single thought on you."

Theo’s smirk only widened and his eyes gleamed with mischief. "Oh, believe me, the feeling is mutual," He quipped, his voice dripping with amusement as he rested his chin on his palms, his gaze never wavering from yours.

You huffed out an angry breath before picking your stuff up and stalking to the opposite end of the classroom. Luckily, he didn’t follow and you were left in peace for the rest of the detention.

//

It had been a week and a half since your detention yet Theodore Nott hadn’t approached you once since. In fact, you hadn’t seen him around school a lot, not that you were paying attention of course. It was just weird. Usually his face would pop up in front of you multiple times a day yet he was nowhere to be found. You had even lingered around the Slytherin table at lunch to see if he would show up but he never did. 

There was this sick feeling in the pit of your stomach. Even though you did despise Theo you had known him since he was a kid and he never was one to skip lessons much less disappear for over a week. Even his Slytherin friends didn’t know where he went.

That is until today. The moment you had walked into the dungeons ready for your Potions lesson you spotted him. There was a part of you that hoped you would see him today, after all he was your Potions partner. But there was something wrong. His face looked gaunt, pale, sapped of life and his eyes were merely blank as he sat unmoving. His usual demeanour was replaced with one of hollow emptiness.

“Where have you been Nott?” No response. You frowned as you looked at him, he seemed to not even hear you. “Nott? Have you suddenly become deaf?”

“It’s none of your business.” He snapped voice obviously laced with malice as the words cut through the air. The sharpness of his tone caught you off guard, a twinge of hurt gnawing at the edges of your consciousness despite the fact you both had said worse to each other.

You chose to ignore the fact that Theo was obviously in a sour mood and sat down beside him, unpacking your things. There was nothing special about the lesson, nothing that you needed to particularly pay attention to. Not that you did since you were too focused on trying to figure out what was wrong with your partner. Theo didn’t look okay, not in the slightest. He seemed exhausted and his sluggish movements proved you correct as he diced the various ingredients. 

You were in the middle of stirring the cauldron when Theo dropped a dandelion root in the mixture causing it to bubble and spit. The concoction spilled onto your hand and you shrieked at the sudden burning sensation that seemed to consume your hand in flames. The sensation is unbearable, a sharp, burning agony that seems to penetrate deep into your very bones. By now the whole class had stopped to look at you not fully registering what had happened. You turned to Theo, tears threatening to fall from your eyes at the pain but he stood there frozen, an expression you couldn’t decipher on his face.

“Theo-”

"Fucking hell, L/n." He spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "Would it kill you to not be such a clumsy moron? You could've hurt me as well. How can you even call yourself a witch?"

His words were sharp and spiteful. Through the many years of knowing Theodore Nott he had never blamed you for something he did. He might have been an incorrigible prick but he would still apologise if he had ever hurt you genuinely. But as you looked at him you couldn’t recognise the cold harsh look he gave you and you bit back your tears. You wouldn’t cry in front of him. 

Despite the fact your hand was in pain you felt something tighten around your chest and it made the air around you feel thick as if you couldn’t breathe. You stood up angrily, opening your mouth to snap back but your vision starts to fade, black spots invade your senses and that was the last thing you remember before you tumbled to the floor.

You woke up a few hours later as you felt the sun shine on your face. You blinked, disorientated, as you tried to get used to your surroundings. The familiar walls of the infirmary materialised and you felt some ease at knowing where you were. Confusion still gnawed at your mind as you struggled to piece together what had happened. How had you ended up in the infirmary? And why did everything feel so hazy, as if viewed through a foggy lens? 

Your gaze drifted to your hand, the source of the searing pain. And there, wrapped in a pristine white bandage, lay the answer to at least one of your questions. The memory flooded back in fragments, disjointed and incomplete.

Theo's careless mistake, the scalding mixture splattering across your skin, the sharp cry of pain that had torn through the air, all of it came rushing back with startling clarity.

“Miss L/n you’re awake!” Madam Pomfrey’s voice cut through your thoughts and you saw the woman make her way towards you hurriedly. “That was a terrible burn you had, lucky I had some burn-healing paste on me otherwise you would have had an ugly scar.”

You were still a bit dazed, trying to piece together how you even managed to make your way here. You distinctively remembered collapsing to the floor but that was where your memory stopped and it refused to give you any more.

“Sorry Madam Pomfrey but do you know how I got here? I really can’t seem to remember.”

“Oh dear.” The nurse frowned at your condition. “Mr Nott brought you here. He’s been here the whole afternoon. He's only just popped to dinner. I'm sure he’ll be back. Merlin, the boy did look worried.”

You resisted the urge to scoff at her words. Theodore Nott, worried. Not a chance. He probably only brought you here because Slughorn insisted, and he couldn't risk getting on the professor's bad side. No, you highly doubted he cared about what had happened to you.

The memory of his harsh words repeated in your head like an echo that refused to go away, a reminder of his indifference to your situation. And yet, despite your efforts to brush it off, a bitter laugh escaped your lips. Why were you even upset? After all, the two of you were experts at hurling mean insults at each other. It was practically a pastime. 

Rather you should have been mad at the fact he was the one who caused you to get this injury anyway. If it wasn’t for his stupid mistake you wouldn’t be in this predicament. Then again, you remembered his movements, how his usual nimble fingers were fumbling the ingredients, how he stared at the pages of his book as though they were in a foreign language. Something wasn’t right.

“You’re awake.”

The words startled you and you spotted the Slytherin boy approaching your bed as his face held the same blank expression as before. He sat down beside you and your eyes narrowed. You shuffled away, not wanting to be near him.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured quietly and the words caught you off guard. “These past few days just haven’t been the best and-”

“That’s your excuse?” You bristled at his pathetic apology, hoping that you had misheard what he had said. “You mess up our potion resulting in me getting hurt and then hurl insults my way trying to blame me for what happened. And you think simply saying ‘I’m sorry’ is enough? Using the excuse of having a few bad days as your way out?”

He stayed silent allowing you to continue.

“Theodore Nott, you always were an idiot.” You spat, the words tinged with disappointment. “But I never expected you to be such a heartless prick.”

As the final syllable fell from your lips, a heavy silence settled over the room, punctuated only by the shallow rise and fall of your breath. You held Theo’s gaze and as you studied him you noticed something you had failed to notice before. The dark circles that marred the skin beneath his eyes, the redness that rimmed their edges. The weariness that had been etched into his features. 

“I went home.” He finally said, breaking the silence with his words. “Father sent a letter saying it was urgent, that I needed to return home at once.”

You felt yourself deflate and your gaze softened. Theo and his father had never been on the best terms and ever since his mother died they drifted apart even more. Suddenly his attitude made sense and you felt the guilt seep into your senses.

“Turns out his urgent matter was that he found himself another potential wife. Some poor woman to endure his torture and he wanted to happily announce it to his son. He burnt all of my mother’s belongings and if I hadn’t stopped him he would’ve gotten rid of her grave as well.” Theo scoffed bitterly and you saw the way he was trying to stop the tears from falling. “That bastard calls himself my father but not once in his life has he ever cared about me.”

A heavy silence enveloped the both of you as you sat not uttering a word. You knew that he had always struggled with the strained relationship with his family. The death of his mother had resulted in Theo being distraught for weeks as he relived the nightmare whenever he closed his eyes. 

“I’m not going back there. I’m never setting foot in that house ever again.”

You placed your hand on his shoulder as you tried to offer some sort of comfort. His eyes locked with yours and you saw how his tears glistened as they fell silently. You felt ropes tighten around your heart and you squeezed his shoulder gently. It had been a long time since you saw Theodore Nott cry. It was a rare sight but that was what made it that much more painful.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” You whispered. “I honestly…I’m so sorry Theo. He really doesn’t deserve a son like you. You’re incredible, you know that? You might be irritating and loud and downright infuriating at times but he doesn’t deserve you because you’re amazing Theodore Nott. And, Merlin, if I’m saying that then it must mean a lot because we both know my word is golden.”

You offered him a small smile and your heart warms when you see one tug at his lips too. He looked away for a second and you saw his eyes land on your bandaged hand and he winced.

“I really am sorry for messing up our potion. I didn’t mean what I said, you’re a brilliant witch Y/n, you always have been. I was just being a prat, I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s honestly nothing bad. My hand will probably already be back to normal, I heal quickly you know.” You paused as your smile faltered and you chose your next words carefully. “If…if you don’t want to return to your house, you can always go to someone else's.”

Theo chuckled as he shook his head. “No one is going to accept me into their house without turning me into my father.”

“I will.” 

Silence. Theo looked at you, confusion clear on his face but your gaze was strong and he could tell you had meant what you had said. You felt yourself flush at his stare and you realised your hand was still on his shoulder and you quickly removed it.

“Accept you into my house I mean. My parents love you and you know they haven’t been on good terms with your father ever since what happened. We would be more than willing to take you in.” You watched as his face contorted into expressions that you couldn’t formulate. “That is if you promise not to fill my bathtub with toads again.”

Laughter fell from his lips, cascading like a melody. He lifted his hands to wipe away his tears that had been streaking down his face. His eyes no longer held the blank emotionless look but rather a certain warmth that you had missed seeing. Your grin widened upon hearing the sound and you found yourself joining in.

“At least you look pretty-”

Your words were cut off abruptly as Theo leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a sudden and unexpected kiss. You froze, unable to comprehend what exactly was happening as disbelief rippled through your body. His hands found their way at the back of your neck and you feel his thumb caress your cheek tenderly. You were still in shock when he pulled away and the last few words of the sentence you were about to say tumbled out of your mouth.

“-when you cry…”

You blinked as your mind tried to grapple at what had just happened. Theodore Nott had just kissed you. Theodore Nott, the boy you had despised since you were five, had just kissed you. He kissed you. Kissed…you. Immediately, your body erupted into flames and you felt your face flush hot at how close the both of you were.

“Your body temperature has risen extremely quickly.” Theo teased and you felt yourself grow even hotter.

“Shut it.”

“Like you’re actually a human radiator.” He continued undeterred by your glare.

“Nott if you don’t want to lose your head I would advise you to shut up.”

Theo grinned and you felt your heart stutter at the sight. “Oh so now I’m back to being Nott? What happened to Theo?” He said his name in a high pitched croon in an attempt to mock your voice and you smacked the backside of his head which only encouraged his laughter.

“You’re actually going to be the death of me.” You groaned as you slumped back down the bed, pulling the covers over your face as a feeble attempt to hide yourself from the pretty Slytherin.

Theo poked your arm and you peeked out to find him staring at you with a bright grin on his face. 

"Don't worry." He reassured you, his voice light and teasing. "I'll make sure to stay by your side forever and ever, like a blood-sucking parasite."

“How romantic.” You drawled as you rolled your eyes, trying to maintain a facade of annoyance as you retreated under the covers once more.

“Aren’t I just?” 

You ignored Theo’s playful whines for you to let him see your face. Your heart threatened to break out of your chest as you tried to calm yourself down. But even so, you were unable to stop the grin that spread across your face. Maybe, just maybe, forever wouldn't be so bad with Theodore Nott by your side.

[patrophthia]

hi babes!!!, I saw your 1K follower event!! ( CONGRATS BTW!!! ), and I was wondering if I could get a fic based off of promise or bewitched by laufey for Theodore nott!!, I don’t really care which song you pick I literally love them both sooooo much!!, I was also wondering if you could make reader like a sunshine personality!, you don’t have too dew about it!!, only do it if you wanna!! <33, anyways that’s it please and thank you!, once again congratulations!!!!🫶🏻🤍,

( made this pink so it matches your theme! )

thank you sweetheart!!! for making it pink and everything and yes i love writing sunshine!readers and love love laufey,,, i went with bewitched bc promise makes me bawl my eyes out but here it is!!

you’ve bewitched me | theodore nott

pairing: theodore nott x reader

genre: fluff, new relationships!!, domestic fluff, it’s so sweet your teeth will rot, reader is mentioned to be shorter than theo

part of my 1k celebration event !

Theodore Nott is well aware of magic and Wizardry alike, he knows of charms and potions like the back of his hand. He knows the effect it might have on a person, how long it can last, and how it tastes —trust him on this, he’s had people slip love potions in his pumpkin juice countless of times before (he tried reaching out to the Professors for assistance but Snape only ended up putting students who looked at Theodore too weirdly into detention, didn’t really work though, seeing as he got slipped another potion a week later). 

But, since he knows it oh so well then why was he having the hardest time trying to come up with why he feels so drawn to you? Why he so incredibly desires you? And why does he miss you so much even when you’re still here, next to him, as you’re bidding him goodbye? 

You’re smiling at him, and it’s soft; it’s so sweet, you’re so sweet to him, it hurts his heart. He doesn’t want to let you go, and neither do you. But it’s getting late, and he knows you have an early class tomorrow —so does he. Your hands are in his; the both of you standing in front of your common room. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You say lowly, not wanting to disturb the sleeping painting. You’re caring, and Theo loves it. You’re good to the people around you, you’re good to him; and he wonders if you’ve casted a spell on his heart and head to make him think so highly of you. “Breakfast?” 

“Mhmm,” he hums first, nodding. “Breakfast,” he repeats after you, his hand not loosening its grip on yours. “I’ll see you at breakfast.” 

“You will,” you murmur. “Oh! And before I forget,” you say, slipping off your (well, technically his) jacket of your shoulders. “Thank you for this.” 

You nudge it over to him and Theodore doesn’t  make any move to take it. “Keep it,” he says, the position of the jacket is awkward —uncomfortable even, laying between your joint hands as it fell pathetically to the floor. He’s not letting go of you anytime soon, and neither is he accepting his jacket back either. “It looks better on you.” 

“But it’s yours,” you tell him and he’s stubborn, still not accepting it, “and if I keep it then it won’t smell like you anymore.” 

He tries to think straight, to stand his ground on how the jacket is yours now; but when your reason is so so (what’s the word?) endearing, how could he ever say no to you? 

So he finally lets go of your hand, picking the jacket up and tossing it over his shoulder as he hopes that you don’t notice just how badly he’s falling for you, how he’s practically falling apart as he stands before you right then and there. 

And when you smile at him, even brighter this time, with you going on your tippy toes as you did so. “Goodnight, Theo,” you say first, then you kissed him, so quick and so chaste that he barely get to savor you before pulling away. And when you tell him: “I promise to dream of you.” 

He can’t help but press his lips back onto yours, one, two, three, more times before finally letting you go. 

It’s when he watches you leave when he finally understands why he feels so completely drawn to you. You’ve bewitched him; through and through, and he could only hope that your curse will not wear off anytime soon. 

— from bee: theodore nott makes me SICK to stomach,,, i want him so bad

[artytaeh]

𓆸 ֗ ˳ DRABBLE : [ meschinità ostinata ] 𔓘

theodore is a man of patience, or at least that's what his reserved behavior hints at. obviously, everyone has a limit; if you made your moodiness his problem, then he'll make his annoyance yours. it's only fair, right?

taglist : p in v, hinting towards theodore being a brat tamer. no further descriptions because i don't ruin surprises. obvious +18 content; read at your own risk.

"you're not stopping, are you?" the thick italian accent doesn't cover for the clear tease within his tone, a breathy chuckle leaving theodore's lips, as his hand smacks another slap to your asscheeks: "come on, tesoro; you have a lot to apologize for, don't you?"

one would have thought that, from the way theodore seems oh so patient with his girlfriend, that any annoyance would be sucked up, forgiven and forgotten. although theo is a good boyfriend... he's also a slytherin, and slytherins rarely forget resentments without a good bribery, you know? like a serpent, theo cunningly waits for the right time to strike.

in a more rational part of your mind — since everything else seems to become too blurry and white out.from the pleasure that keeps poking on that sweet spot, again, and again and again —, you ponder about regret.

should you have been impatient this afternoon? no, it wasn't fair to push your pettiness and moody behavior onto theodore, especially not when the italian was just trying to smoke his afternoon cigarette, hopefully to expel some accumulated stress, from this week's assignments.

do you regret it? not exactly.

how can anyone regret anything, if the outcome is theodore nott under you, blue eyes piercing into your soul with the cockiness of who knows what he's doing — gaze dispersing from your fucked out expression, only to stare in marvel at the way your chest bounces with every. single. movement. of your hips? oh, he's loving this.

theo loves your bratty side.

it's not a secret either. why do you think he likes the sassy ones? the comebacks make him laugh, and theo definitely laughs harder when he gets you so tired and fucked out of your attitude, that not even a huff of annoyance he gets out of you.

and he's working in that direction.

well, it's more accurate to say that he's making you work for that.

his hand lazily settles on your hip, caressing the skin already tainted with darkening fingermarks; so what? it feels so damn good to be inside you, it always has theodore muttering in italian—cursing and praising, depending on his tone, you've learned from pure experience. the other one, as if to taunt your attempts of scolding his unhealthy habit of smoking, holds a cigarette between his index and ring finger.

you know, the ones he used to impatiently prepare you for his cock, still wet with your slick. theo loves to feel you drooling for him, already fidgety and sensitive when he slips inside you — or, in this case, having seen you sink onto his painfully hard erection. the heaven's view, he swears.

taking a drag from his cigarette, theodore ponders whether you deserve an incentive, or to have him being mean with you. weren't you so smart earlier?

his fingers bruise the skin on your hipbone yet again, this time thrusting up for a harsh thrust, contrasting with this slow rhythm you're providing. theo scoffs, "seriously, is this your way to apologize for your bitchy behavior? dai, amore, non deludermi."

as if it's that easy to make your body work faster; it's already uncomfortable to be in this position, especially overwhelmed from his fingers!

not that theo cares about that, anyway.

another harsh slap to your asscheeks; a raise of his left eyebrow, and you know that he's losing his patience: "don't make me do it for you, dolcezza. i'll rip manners out of you."

and as delightful as that sounds, you're not sure if you could take that sort of overstimulation today. not when you're already like this, even less when theodore is savoring the idea of bullying your pretty lips and sensitive core.

so, hands falling for support on his abdomen, you do your best to ignore the aching on your thighs — perhaps you should do this more often or exercise? — you force yourself to lift your hips, only to slam them again until theodore is so deep inside you, that your clit makes a wet mess of his groin. theodore fucking loves that, expelling the smoke from his lips with a breathless chuckle, head tilting back to the headboard.

yeah, mattheo is probably sleeping in the common room tonight.

not appreciating the lack of response, zero empathy towards the effort you're already doing, theodore sneaks his free hand amidst the mess of your hair. his fingers tangle between your locks, until his nails lightly scratch over your scalp and tug you closer to him; a demand from him that feels ridiculously good to you. his free hand moves the cigarette away from his lips, and taking the chance of your gasp from the extra tug on your hair, theodore blows the burning smoke to your lips; inside your mouth. taunting how much you dislike this vice of his.

nicotine swirls between your tongues as they meet; that, however, isn't the reason why you crawl back to him everytime.

theodore nott is a drug of his own.

perhaps he decides to be nicer now, sloppily exchanging slow kisses with you, letting his hips roll upwards to pursue his orgasm.

"non puoi nemmeno essere una vera troia," theo is so close to you, that the movement of his lips, pronouncing each foreign word, brush against yours, creating a tingling sensation that only adds to the notion of being cursed and insulted—at least, that's what your intuition tells you.

his hand blindly abandons his cigarette on the ashtray, keenly aware that you can feel—and taste—that acid smell of tobacco and cigarettes, less considerate than he usually is about your irking over it. his fingers grip your jaw, his thumb squeezing your cheek as his other fingers do the same, not even letting you moan from each sharp thrust that kisses your cervix.

"cazzo, it makes me want to laugh at you. you talk, talk, talk my ear off," even breathless, theo seems to have too much to say; it should be embarrassing, really, if his disdain didn't make your inner walls clench tighter around his thickness. "and can't even own your bitching afterwards. didn't even properly apologize; maybe you don't deserve this, huh?"

it takes a moment for you to understand the implication there, too distracted by the toe curling sensation of being repeatedly filled up. it's when theodore stops, resting on the mattress once more and giving up on the fluid movement of his hips, previously bouncing you on his groin, that your eyes widen with disbelief. seriously?

at first, you think about calling him out for his pettiness.

but it's the smug look and smirk that makes you want to sob instead, dignity crumbling to ashes, reborn as despair to finally cum. please, please.

his hand lowers to your neck, fingers curling around your throat, even though there's not much of a threat there. it's a loose grip; not even properly holding it, a simple squeeze that feels rather gentle, more like he's mocking you, in a way.

the worst is that theodore isn't even being mean. no, this is him having fun; if he was being mean, he'd be teasing you about the first semblance of frustrated tears, and you'd have to cry for it.

picking up the pieces of any strength left, the smartest choice is to surrender yourself, hopefully calming down the fire that burns within theodore's temper to slowly sneak into his good graces again. your hips move — unable to exert the tired muscles of your thighs — grinding helplessly against the firm muscles of his groin, the movement enough to rip out a low groan from theodore, appeased that he won't listen any whines from you, for now.

"brava ragazza," comes as a praise; before the compliment gets over your head, his free hand slaps your thigh, "go on. use me like a toy, carina, cum on my cock."

yeah, this would be a long night.

[softerthansatinn]

send in steve harrington thoughts<3 i've had SO much to say about him recently...

[softerthansatinn]

hi angels it's rosie (prev @hapinesbuterfiy) ! i've rebranded & also added new characters to my writing list<3 please send me reqs or chats, i've missed u all so dearly... very very excited to be back! 𝅄 ♡ ׁׅ

[softerthansatinn]

making my comeback this year...

[cameronsprincess-deactivated202]

wait… oh fuck me… WAIT. i just fell to my knees.

[softerthansatinn]

i was js thinking abt ur acc the other day! hiii, wb!!

hi!! im so honored that you were thinking about me omg!!

[softerthansatinn]

s4 brought all of us back 🤭

literally. i missed this blog❤️❤️❤️

[softerthansatinn]

im literally so back send me asks as i revamp

[softerthansatinn]

wait hey im back

[softerthansatinn]

hi my loves, so sorry for the inactivity. i've had a week from hell hahaha!! i hope to be back this week love you lots<3

[maybanksangel]

Do you have any account recommendations for rafe fan fics?

of course I do !! 🩵

tagging. @starkeyisthelastname @rafescokewhore @rafescurtainbangz @rafesmuse @devinedoll @rafesthroatbaby @stxrslut @hanasnx @rafesveryrealgf @hapinesbuterfiy @drudyslut @venuscameron @rafeysbafey

[softerthansatinn]

THANK YOUU