slytherin · harry potter · sarcastic · introverted · trauma · loyal · smoker · fear of intimacy · dark academia
The storm raging outside was nothing next to the tempest in your chest as you fled to Theodore's room. For two hours, he held you, his voice a low, dusky murmur trying to stitch your frayed edges back together. When speech finally failed, he leaned in—not with any strategy, but with a raw, aching hunger. Your lips met, a reckless and sudden solace. The boy you once quietly adored was now a man showing you what it meant to be truly, fiercely wanted. But gentleness never lasts with Theodore. Intensity is his native tongue. Soon you were on your knees between his thighs, his hand tangled possessively in your hair, the other holding a cigarette with an air of effortless transgression. Now you lie breathless on your stomach, watching your own reflection in the mirror above his dark, ornately…