#dark Theo

[ksbbb]

Liam’s lost. Lost in the scent of Theo, the touch of his hand, his voice, the dark side of the chimera, and the uncontrollable attraction that he has for him.

His hands are sweaty, and the hand resting on his leg has his pulse quickening the more Theo keeps his hand firmly on Liam’s thigh, pulling him further into whatever game that he’s playing.

A game Liam’s itching to play.

He gulps, his throat dry, and the music is blaring from the speaker as they drive through the city, closer to Theo’s house and closer to where the chimera can get his hands on him.

Theo did tip the bartender. He gave him a stack of cash, sliding it into his pocket as he winked at Liam and placed his hand on his shoulder, gently leading him out the door and into the dark night.

[devilslxd]

“What’s your favourite scary movie?” Theo asks, just as he comes to a stop in front of her front door. This is definitely one of his favourite parts of the whole night.

Ever wondered what Theo and Liam would be like if they were Ghostface killers?

THE LONG AWAITED SCREAM AU 😤

Sorry it took so long, I’ve been really busy. Which sounds like a brag but it’s really not 😅

[prettybabybaby]

¡ 18+ only ! ¡ minors do not interact !

pairing: theodore nott x reader

content: noncon, intoxication

theodore doesn’t care.

theodore doesn’t care.

it had been his idea to break up to begin with. you were left with no choice but to accept it. you sobbed in his chest that night, clinging to his t-shirt as he simply sat there and let you. he let you slip away hours later, embarrassed and hot to the touch, nose running and breath uneven. he had even sighed in relief to see you go, envisioning how good the new women would look in his bed, legs spread for him. he was happy to see you go.

until he saw another man’s fingers graze your shoulder, trailing up the slope of your neck before curling around it. theo saw the excitement flash in your irises as he squeezed the sides, hips swaying against yours as the vibration of bass-heavy music shook your frame.

an ugly feeling settled in theo’s stomach when the other man’s lips hovered over yours, extending in what felt like slow motion. theodore glared to no avail, only met with one singular shit-eating grin from the man. theo felt his nails dig into his palm as he curled his fists in an attempt to keep him marching over there and taking back what was rightfully his. you.

seeing you wandering around alone, roaming empty halls of the dungeons with a sway in your steps, unconsciously making your way to theo’s dorm made him unable to resist.

you looked so sweet in your dress, tight and dark red, clung to every curve and dip. theodore would have never let you out in such a short dress, especially when he knew just how disgusting men’s thoughts could be. including his.

you jumped as his heavy hand landed on your shoulder. but a faux sugary sweet tone and charming grin was all it took to get you to follow him inside. leading to where he is now. grunting and tracing his finger down the familiar line of your spine as you lay limp against the edge of his mattress. threats of mattheo pushing past the unlocked door of their shared dorm at any given moment pushed theo to thrust harder, faster.

theo bent over your frame, nuzzling his nose into your hair that smelled more like alcohol than your shampoo. he nosed at your neck, licking the salty sweat-coated skin. his hips moved against yours, pushing his cock inside you until it stretched your walls and prodded at the spot deep inside you. you weakly whined, throwing a hand behind you in a feeble attempt to get your ex-boyfriend off of you.

but theodore couldn’t care less. he relished in the tight and familiar squeeze of your velvet walls around his cock, the warmth of your skin, and the curves of your body melding with his own.

[metamorphesque]

— Vincent van Gogh, from a letter to Theo van Gogh

[text ID: So often, in the past too, a visit to a bookshop has cheered me and reminded me that there are good things in the world.]

[flimsy-spine]

damn bitch, we get it already

[edwardian-masquerade]

"I often think that the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day."

-Vincent Van Gogh; "To Theo van Gogh. Arles, Saturday, 8 September 1888"

[machiavellli]

Some spicy Theodore Nott headcanons˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Notes: this was like driving: I don't have a driver license. Seriously like, you absolutely hyped me up for writing this and now I feel like I need to go touch some grass and drink some holy water.

Btw we shouldn't feel ashamed, like the first people ever to write in a language that is more similar to ours, literally wrote about about two nun fuck1ng him 108 times (yes that's what he says) in a week bc they thought he was mute. Like women in the 700 were DYING bc of novels, bc they couldn't never have enough of it and the majority developed a masturbat1on add1ction. We can't be worse, that's just humanity at its core: we are h0rny creatures.

⚠️: The blue parts are from a poem, from the author Giacomo da Lentini and it's called "Meravigliosamente" (| put a translation at the end, because it's ancient Italian and you can't translate it with a normal translator). It's one of my favorites poems ever, it's one the best incarnation of what love feels like. Yeah now the poets are cursing at me from above.

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! 18+!!Breeding k1nk, p in v, ora1 f receiving, pregnant! reader description, nak3d people in general (idk what to put, BUT YOU HAVE BEEN ADVISED). English is not my first language, therefore you could find some mistakes, please report them to me!

With all being said: enjoy<3

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

Theodore Nott, your Italian Slytherin guy:

Theo loves to love as we already established.

He loves to give, he would let his blood dry for you.

Therefore he likes to take care of his dear ones, especially you, il suo tesoro.

I also already told you about how he will think about your future together, how he would love to have a proper family with you.

He just wants to have what his family wasn't capable of giving him.

So when the seventh year it's over, it also means that his only obstacle, the one that used to keep him away from his dream, is also over.

Something changes inside of him, un istinto primario prende il sopravvento. He knows that now it is actually possible.

«Meravigliosamente

un amor mi distringe

e soven ad ogn'ora.»

Maybe the first few months it wouldn't be so evident, he would probably keep it for himself.

He wouldn't like to put pressure on you, he couldn't.

But every time you get intimate, tutte le volte che fate l'amore, he can't help but think what it will feel like letting himself go completely.

Letting it happen.

Letting himself have a proper release.

Letting himself paint your inside white.

His warm finding the embrace of your core.

Planting a life, creating it with il suo tesoro, la sua diletta.

That's the ultimate dream e cazzo quanto lo vorrebbe.

«Com'omo che ten mente

in altro exemplo pinge

la simile pintura,

cosi, bella, facc'eo,

che’nfra lo core meo

porto la tua figura.»

But for now he still has to curse within himself, "cazzo, cazzo, cazzo.", imprisoning that release, that dream.

Simply wishing he could stay inside, saving every drop for you.

It's so hard for him to distract himself from the heavy daydreaming.

His mind as pregnant with thoughts as he wish you were.

You would just look so gorgeous round with his child.

And he would easily do everything under the sight of your new silhouette.

(As he wasn't already totally lost in this love, this passion per la sua bella)

This particular scene keeps repeating in his cursed mind:

You, full and completely bare before him sitting on your shared bed, nonchalantly putting cream on every inch of your skin after a shower.

He might be at the doorstep looking from afar or already on the bed

But it always ends with him interrupting you, taking your hands with devotion, already giving you passions with just his eyes, just for him to say: "dimmi quello che desideri e sarà tuo"

And he would literally do anything.

«Al cor m'ard'una doglia,

com'om che te lo foco

a lo suo seno ascoso,

e quanto più lo'nvoglia,

tanto arde più loco

e non po star incluso»

He would let you exploit his tongue in favor of your pleasure, savoring every drop coming from down there.

Growling just at your moist sight

And he would taste you like a starved man.

Over and over again.

On the bed,

On the Couch,

At the dinner table.

Sempre e ovunque.

Holding you still with one of his firm hands on your now round stomach.

Non è mai stato così facile inginocchiarsi e predicare da quando la sua religione, la sua donna angelo, sei diventata tu.

You look like a miracle to him.

And he would absolutely get lost in this strong trance filled with amore, passione e lussuria.

He would delicately lay your figure on the bed, like the most precious Greek statue of a goddess.

But the softness of your skin will make him realize that you are not a vision, but his blessed reality.

Your fullness getting in the way would quickly become the most delicious sight ever in his eyes.

His dead stare penetrating your soul along with his physical body.

He would tell you that his eyes look gone because he is convinced to be already dead and already in Paradise.

So lost in the haze, so convinced of the woman under him to be an angel.

And now, he is making her la madre dei suoi figli, sua moglie, la sua fiamma, da qui all'eternità.

Your legs, now afar from each other, looking like the most rare prophecy.

The softness of your skin feeling like the salvation from every sin.

Your swollen breast moving along his movements in you, rhythmically, like a fine melody.

And if by chance a single tear of your product falls from them, his eyes would shine like the sun during August.

He won't esitate to collect it with his mouth, tasting yet another one of your miracles. He wouldn't hold back the raw attitude taking over his mind, he simply couldn't.

«Assai v'aggio laudato,

madonna, in tutte parti

di bellezze ch'avete.»

When you two got together he thought he couldn't love you more, the same on your wedding day, but now he would simply let this love tear him apart he would still and always pray in your name.

In the morning he would wake you up gently, caressing you cheeks, watching as the eyes that caught his soul slowly open.

He would prepare breakfast for you, taking it directly in bed.

And every day will only be about you and you only.

Need a bath? Already prepped and warm amore.

You have swollen feet? A massage from him is mandatory.

Need to put the nursery together? Consider it done.

And don't get me started on the amount of stuff that he would buy for your unborn child.

He just wants to make sure everything will be ready for the big day.

But that's just a dream, playing tricks with his mind.

«Canzonetta novella,

va canta nova cosa;

lèvati da maitino

davanti a la più bella,

fiore d'ogn'amorosa,

bionda più ch'auro fino»

"Theo, darling, are you still here?" you ask him after two solid minutes of him staring at you, to the point that you were starting to feel suffocated by his gaze.

His pupils blown, and as his breathing increase, he finally snaps back from daydreaming.

But now, now it's been months of this agony, della sua mente completamente offuscata dal desiderio.

He just can't help himself anymore, he is a direct and honest person, he can't continue to keep this away from you.

And with the most serious expression known to mankind and his eyes firmly buried into yours, he doesn't hesitate anymore:
"Facciamo un figlio amore, facciamolo adesso, non ne posso più d'aspettare, non posso più nemmeno aspettare che er mondo faccia n'altro giro" he would tell you in one breath.

You kiss him delicately, "Allora non esitare, non aspettare che la luna fugga Mr.Nott"

"Ai suoi ordini Signora Nott"

"Ti amo tantissimo" the last thing he would tell you before finally letting himself completely go, completamente perso in questo amore, si che possa ammirare te, te sospirare e te amare, te soltanto.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

Okay so here's the translation of the poem, the canzonetta, which as I said it's called "Meravigliosamente", in English “Wonderfully":

My ask box is open!✨🥂

<- part II

-> part III?

[kissedmeinsane]

the goldfinch (2019) // nietzsche // the goldfinch (2019) // the goldfinch (2019) // eurydice // fabritius, the goldfinch // fyodor dostoyevsky // euripides // the wedding date (2005) // richard siken // the goldfinch (2019) // richard siken // donna tartt

[theartofperishingslowly]

Donna Tartt 🤝 gay youth with glasses who like doing drugs

[grizzcore]

♥️ Happy new year from our little family ♥️

[ksbbb]

WIP STUFF

“We could use Liam as bait?” Stiles offers, earning a frown from Scott.

“Me? Why me?” Liam complains, not too happy with the way his name was so easily thrown out into the mix.

“Well if Theo is unhinged it’s more likely he won’t kill you as opposed to the rest of us. “ Stiles points out, nodding his head in agreement at his own statement.

“He’s not wrong.” Corey says, humming softly in thought.

“Corey.” Mason frowns, apologetically smiling at Liam.

Apparently what Liam has learned from all of this is that everyone else seems to be sure that the only thing that they can rely on is Theo’s care for Liam to help them buy some time.

How fortunate for Liam.

“Thanks. I guess I’m just going to approach a coyote in the middle of the woods like some lunatic and hope that you’re all right about this.” Liam sighs, bitterly biting back a smart response to Stiles previous statement.

“Glad we had this conversation.” Stiles says, patting Liam’s shoulder.

Theo better be easy to find because what in the actual fuck.

[mattodore]

theo’s bedroom is slowly coming together

[hampdenwisteria]

when theo decker said “I didn't know why I felt so tainted, and worthless, and wrong— only that I did” in The Goldfinch

and when richard papen said “In short, I felt my existence was tainted in some subtle but essential way” in The Secret History

[clairedaring]

THE GOLDFINCH (2019) dir. John Crowley 

[metamorphesque]

— Vincent van Gogh, from a letter to Theo

[text ID: but the sunflower is mine in a way.]

[mcversipellis]

The Goldfinch

“What if our badness and mistakes are the very thing that set our fate and bring us round to good? What if, for some of us, we can't get there any other way?”

― Donna Tartt