MDNI! Headcannons on how the Bay!turtles (separately) hatefuck.
This one's a doozy so strap in
Tags: Bay!tmnt x reader, fem reader, PIV, no protection, oral- f!receiving (Leo), size diff (Raph), creampies, overstim, mating press (Donnie), nasty smut, dw it ends well, atrocious punctuation, not proofread
Mikey
The two of you never got along well, for some reason the orange turtle’s excessive energy and insistence that you join in on ridiculous things just irked you. He equally disliked you downing on his fun, finding the way you rolled your eyes at his antics and your sarcastic quips irritating beyond belief; he felt like you were judging him for every little thing he was doing, whether that be eating or playing a game or training.
Mikey is utterly frustrated by your lack of amusement with him. The intensity of your gaze makes him feel perceived, and he hates it. You dislike his disregard for cleanliness on occasion, the messiness he’s prone to pisses you off, especially when you don’t particularly enjoy sitting on crumb covered surfaces. Mikey loathes the way you’re so friendly with his brothers, but seem to have an issue with him and only him. Deep down it’s based on insecurity, he’s afraid of being perceived as creepy or gross and constantly tries to put himself in the ‘harmless’ role; Mikey tries to be the one all about fun and if people dislike him he feels a weird sort of anxiety about it.
Despite trying to disregard it, Mikey is affected by the idea and gets into his head to the point where it amplifies the perceived negative feelings you have towards him. The tension bubbles up and eventually, you’re put in a very charged situation…
Mikey stormed into the room after you, huffing in frustration. You weren’t even listening to him. You took one look at him and dismissed him as beneath you, as though he were something you’d found on the bottom of your shoe and you wanted to throw away the pair.
“Mikey, quit fucking following me. I told you, I don’t need you accusing me of shit.”
“Accusing? Dude, I’m literally trying to have a conversation like a normal person. You’re the one making it hard to.”
“You’re so- no I’m not!” You scoffed at him, crossing your arms and glaring at him with that look he despised so much. Mikey took some steps closer, throwing his arms up to emphasise his irritation and his helplessness. He pointed at you.
“See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You never liked me from the start, you suck the fun out of everything. I’m just trynna chill and you come along and-and- make that face at me. Well. Forgive me if my kinda fun is not to your liking, your highness.” He sarcastically titled you, putting on a mocking accent. You groaned, looking at him with such disdain that he took another step forward to get right in your face and glare back.
“This is what I hate about you. You make everything about the way you see things. A look? Really? I mean, seriously, how the fuck is that a reason to hate me?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know what you’re doing, brah.”
“Shut up. Could you just shut it for a single second? All you do is get in my face and get in my way and make shit up about some sorta look. You’re so annoying. God, I didn’t find you that annoying at first but lately you’ve been driving me up a fucking wall.”
Mikey took another step closer. Both of you were breathing hard. Somewhere in his gaze he looked wounded, like your words had struck a sore spot. You hadn’t hated him at first. Fuck. The way you were looking at him now made him feel heady and stupid and annoyed and sad and suddenly he was kissing you, pushing you up against the wall and caging you in. You were kissing back.
Mikey rolled his hips, the thick stretch of his cock stirring your insides and producing the most obscene squelches. You were on your back on top of his bed, sheets crumpled beneath you. The tension between the two of you had built to a point where it had bypassed angry sex. Mikey was whimpering at the feel of your warm, tight pussy clamping down around the length of his dick, his arms were shaking and he could barely hold himself up on top of you. You were moaning into the crook of his neck. He’d been dribbling precum from his tip before he’d even pushed an inch into you and you could feel the creamy swab of his head hitting deep each time he pushed his hips down. Your pussy was soaking, you’d never known you were capable of getting this wet; the pearly semi-translucent liquid had long since coated the insides of your thighs and smeared onto Mikey’s thighs too. And not just his thighs, you were dripping onto his sheets with each slow thrust, shuddering at the feeling of a thousand nerve endings firing at once. You were certain you couldn’t form words if you tried, twitching and bucking your hips up to meet the way he fucked into you.
“Ah- fuck. Pretty. Look at me, pretty. Please, please look at me.” One of Mikey’s hands slid down to cup your face, looking down to watch the way his cock stretched you out as he sank into you before looking back up to your face with a pleading, helpless expression.
“Mi-key- Ohmygod, I” You were slurring your words, drunk off the delicious way his dick filled you up and made your gummy walls squeeze down to glue him to you.
“You don’t hate me now, right? You’re not- not- mad?” Mikey pressed his forehead to yours, screwing his eyes shut and gasping out a moan as he felt your legs try to wrap around him and keep him close.
“No ‘m not mad. ‘M sorry. I wasn- ohhh fuck, I didn’t mean to.” You had tears at the corner of your eyes, clutching onto him for dear life as you felt the pleasure building up in your lower stomach. Mikey felt the way you tensed and your words brought him to the edge so quickly he felt winded. He increased the pace of his thrusts, pounding into your poor, spasming pussy in desperation. You don’t hate him, you didn’t judge him, he hadn’t done anything wrong. You even felt sad about the way he’d held such a negative view of you, sniffling as he fucked you so messily. You didn’t even care about the messiness, too focused on the way his plastron was brushing against your nipples and the sound of his desperate groans. Without warning Mikey slammed right up into you, the friction breaking the delicate tension that had been building in your lower gut and making your walls clamp down hard as you came. He thrusted once, twice, frantic little convulsions. His cum overflowed, dribbling out around where his flushed base was balls deep and onto the sheets below. Panting and tuckered out, he nuzzled into you and kissed the corners of your eyes. It was safe to say the hate had dispersed a little.
Leo
Leo had been skeptical of you ever since you’d been roped in on one of their missions. It had been an accident, but to him you’d handled it recklessly, choosing to fight instead of run and hide the second they’d been able to cover you.
In Leo’s eyes everything about you is just wrong, you talk back to him, have attitude for days and seem to want to get on his nerves on purpose. He’d even caught you laughing about how uptight he was with Raph, and you hadn’t even had the courtesy to stop when he’d made his presence known with a more than unimpressed look. You had just smirked, tilting your chin up with a smug, amused sort of expression that drove Leo crazy. You never listen.
You hate the way Leo acted like he had a rod permanently up his ass. He had told you off the very first day you’d met, and you’d felt embarrassed and anxious and that humiliated feeling had stuck with you. You hadn’t even done anything wrong. Leo’s pretentiousness pisses you off. Leo finally gets fed up with your brattiness and decides you need some teaching…
“Fuck- you!” You squealed at the way Leo flicked his tongue and latched onto your clit, the leader in blue had been eating you out for the past thirty minutes. You were gushing, unable to move to squeeze your thighs together with the way his heavy hands pushed your legs apart without effort. Leo pulled away, spit soaking your already soaked pussy. Your wetness had dripped down his chin and it glistened, mocking you with its vulgarity.
“Ah-ah. That’s not how you talk to me. Try again.” Leo dipped his head back down, kitten licking your folds before shoving his tongue in your pulsing cunt. The way he slurped at you, attempting to gouge out your insides with his tongue, forcing your thighs apart and stilling even the idea of movement made you whimper and try to wriggle your hips to get him to fuck you with his mouth. You had tears at the corners of your eyes with how long he’d denied you orgasm, your pride had been thoroughly shattered and you were whining his name.
“Leo, Leo, please! You’re so- so mean. You’re always so mean, I hate’t” You clawed at his hand on your thigh, trying to hold it, to get him to be sweet to you for once, to stop being so fucking stern and apologise. Leo spat into your pussy, licking once more to spread the wetness around. He pulled away when he heard your babbling and the way you sounded so teary, brow furrowed in confusion at your words; not once had Leo heard you sound like that, not once in the last half hour had you cracked like this.
“I’m mean? What happened to all the times you’ve treated me like a joke? I’m trying to be a good leader and you…” Leo blew a thin stream of cool air onto your hot, messy pussy as if to try to soothe the overstimulation you were feeling “…you try to argue with me on everything. You do it on purpose.” Leo sounded a little bitter, but he focused on slowly kissing the wet insides of your thighs. He couldn’t be petty. That was so stupid. He was meant to be the mature one, the one in control and yet bitterness bubbled up uncontrollably. You shivered when he blew at you, tendons in your thighs twitching under Leo’s hold.
“You were- were mean first. You got mad at me for- fuck- no reason.”
Leo pressed a sloppy kiss to your clit, causing your hips to buck up as best they could. He frowned. “I did, huh.” He pushed up, slowly kissing up your lower stomach, up your abdomen, in the valley between your tits. A teardrop had broken and rolled down your cheek, you sniffled and squirmed under his firm hold, needy and overwhelmed. Leo breathed out, feeling a little twist in his stomach and not just from the raging hard on he’d been sporting since he tasted you. His dick was throbbing, he’d dropped the second he pried your legs apart and had been painfully hard as he finger fucked you to get you dripping down his wrist. Leo felt his irritation dissipating at the way you looked so vulnerable, and he knew you weren’t lying with how out of character it was for you to act like this. He reached down to slap his cock against your clit a couple times, groaning lowly at how good it felt. You whimpered. He leaned down to kiss your cheek, kiss your temple and find your hand so he could hold it. “I’m sorry. If you were just- ah- acting out in retaliation I can’t blame you. It’s my duty to look out for everyone. I didn’t mean to hurt you, sweets.” You sniffled, wiggling your hips to try to get him inside already. You pulled him close, eyebrows pinched up wantonly as you pressed your lips to his in an open mouthed, heated kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue. Leo slid his tip along your folds, wetting himself with your slick and catching his head in your hole a few times; you both simultaneously moaned as Leo’s reddened, swollen tip slipped in. You gasped when he began to push his hips in, grinding your own in little circles to attempt to fit his length in your sopping pussy. He involuntarily thrusted, accidentally pushing himself all the way in and snapping his hips to connect his base to the hot, sticky mess that was dripping at the base of your cunt; you gasped and moaned into him, tears slipping down your cheeks at how good it felt.
“Oooohgod- Leo-“ you scratched at his arm with your free hand. He held your other hand in his own, an innocent gesture compared to the utterly depraved filth going on where your bodies connected. You gripped his hand tight when he began to move. “I’m shooo- fuck! sorry. I’m sorry for being so difficult, I’ll be good. Gon’ be so good.” Leo just whimpered in response to your words, feeling himself prematurely spurt a little. Yeah, all was definitely forgiven.
Raph
Raph is a hothead and a hardass for the most ridiculous of situations, and your rivalry started when you disagreed on how Leo needed to arrange the patrol rotas. In the end your schedule won out and Raph was left fuming over it. In his mind, you’re just an annoying little obstacle, something that needs to be weeded out. He finds any and all reason to argue with you, hating the way you walk and assert your ridiculous opinions and just you in general.
You find his irrational thinking infuriating, you both argue about the smallest of things. You glare at him more often than not and he tries using his height and size to intimidate you, looming over you and getting all up in your face when he’s angry. You especially hate when he does that and flaunts his size and strength in comparison to you, like he’s trying to make you feel small and weak. You both reach boiling point and things get heated…
Raph had been driving you up the wall all day. All week. All month- in fact, he’d been doing so for more than a month and hadn’t let up. He was petty, rage filled and seemed to think you were his outlet. You hated that. So why were you letting him now drive his dick deep into your guts, your face smushed against the pillows and ass up for him to grab onto? You couldn’t even remember how you got here, one minute you’d been yelling at one another and the next Raph had thrown you onto the nearest bed and pushed you into it. Raph was completely lost in the tightness of your pussy, stuffing you full with his stupidly big dick. He was so big inside you that your gooey walls were struggling to squeeze around him, fluttering helplessly to accommodate the sheer size of him. The red turtle had needed to prep you for god knew how long to even get to this point, and you’d been thoroughly fucked out before he’d even swiped his cock against the flooded mess between your legs. You were drooling into the pillow beneath you, helpless little ‘ah, ah’s torn brokenly from your throat every time Raph moved a centimetre. Raph groaned.
“Look at you. Makin’ me- shit, makin’ me have to go easy, sweetheart.” Raph pushed until the base of his cock was flush with the soaking, stretched entrance of your cunt. You let out a choked half-whine, scrabbling to clutch at something, anything that would ground you.
“Raph!“ You were whimpering. “You’re so big. I hate how you jus’ do that. I hachyou.”
Raph slowly pulled out until his tip was the only thing in your hot pussy. He looked down at the creamy ring around the base and the way his shaft was glossy with your wetness and almost came then and there. Cursing, he sloppily fucked back into you.
“You hate me. Yeah, I h-hate you too. Cocky lil’…” His words were cut off by the way your combined fluids dripped down onto the sheets. He slid one of his large, warm palms to your stomach to stabilise you and in the process felt the outline of his dick. He groaned, eyes wide and thighs shaking. “Fuck, you feel that? Me inside you. Not so high ’n mighty now, are we?” Raph’s hips stuttered and he slid his hand further down to rub at your clit as he rolled his hips into you again.
“I’ve got you right here.”
You were convulsing, two thrusts away from cumming on him. Your stomach felt weird, you reached back to clutch at him. He’d been trying to be gentle so as to not hurt your smaller frame but something in your gut was twisting in an unfamiliar way. “Raph, wait, pull out, I wanna- lemme- lemme sit on it. ‘Feels weird like this.”
Raph immediately complied, completely forgetting about any anger he was supposed to feel at the way you said ‘sit on it’. He repositioned so he was leaning against the headboard, large hands almost encircling your waist, thick fingers rubbing circles as you slowly sank down on him with a gasp. You began to grind your hips down the second he filled you to the hilt, tits bouncing as you tried in vain to ride him. He bucked his hips up in tandem, meeting your movements with his own little thrusts and stirring you up. His thumb moved to press to your clit and as he circled it you felt something similar to a dam breaking and a flood of cum. You spasmed, flopping forward on his plastron and squirting hard all over his lower half; you soaked the bed and his dick in the process. Raph fucked up into you the second he felt the gush of your pussy, stuffing you full of his thick, sticky cum immediately. It leaked out from you as you lay twitching atop him, and the two of you panted heavily. “Fuck- I didn’t know I could-“
“Guess you ain’t opposed to how big I am now, huh?” Needless to say with that Raph learned to be less of a brute and you learned to not mind how he used his size.
Donnie
Donnie is the most stubborn fool. He hated you the second you pointed out a flaw in one of his prototypes and took your constructive criticism as just criticism. What did you know about the kind of tech he dealt with? Nothing, and still you’d discovered an issue with his work. Donnie abandoned that project after that since he didn’t have an alternative go-around other than what you’d suggested, and he refused to use your criticism to improve his work.
He feels enormous amounts of disdain towards you after that. You equally hate his pompousness, he’s so condescending towards you without realising it. He throws shade left and right if you step a toe into his territory and you find it so frustrating. Eventually, you both can’t take the way your witty arguments bring up all kinds of pent up feelings…
“Again… just one more time…” Donnie’s glasses were askew and slightly cloudy, he was biting his lip as he looked down at where his cock filled your sloshing cunt. A nasty milky mixture of his and your cum had splattered across your thighs and he was struggling to keep his composure. He fucked into you, pushing your legs up so you were forced into a mating press of sorts. The stretch of his fat head probing your sticky insides was immeasurable, you were whining desperately. One of his tridactyl fingers moved down to your clit, teasingly rubbing in slow circles and building you up. You couldn’t even think, rocking your hips up to try and chase the feeling of him stuffing you.
“Ohmyfuckkk god- Don,” You babbled mindlessly, tensing up at the familiar feeling of your approaching orgasm. Donnie whimpered, groaning and panting in a way that made your pussy clench hard and flood once again. You squealed at the force of his dick hitting the spongy spot deep inside you, attempting to squirm up away from how good it felt, but Donnie wasn’t letting you move. He used his height to his advantage, tugging you down to meet his heavy, desperate thrusts as he rutted into you.
“Don’t- ah- don’t run. Can’t handle it?”
You whimpered, brow furrowing and eyebrows knitting together in frustration and arousal. “S-Shut up! Fuck, you’re so annoying. Self-important-“ you came before you could finish your sentence, convulsing and moaning into his shoulder. Donnie pulled out immediately, trying not to mourn the loss of your warm pussy clenching around him, angling your hips so he could watch your hole flutter around nothing. He watched, fascinated and struggling to not drool at the sight. His cock was twitching. It hit his lower plastron with a wet sound, a string of sticky arousal connecting from his tip to his stomach. You gasped as you came down from the sensations, weakly reaching up to try to grab hold of him; your nails dug into his forearm as your head lolled. Donnie cursed quietly, other hand reaching down to stroke himself with wet schlick sounds that made your face flush. You whined. “Donnie. Just. Fuck me properly.” He just nudged his precum-covered tip against your sensitive folds, mask ties resting on his chest and dropping down over you when he leaned over to get close again.
“You’re always telling me what to do… Shit, you’re so bossy. Think you know hahhh fuck- better than me?” Donnie’s voice cracked as he asked the question. He was gazing at how your pussy oozed when he pushed the head of his cock in. You whimpered, unable to respond with anything other than a shake of your head as Donnie eased himself back into your heat. You locked your legs around his hips; you were adamant on him staying inside this time, you’d had enough of the teasing and torment he’d been subjecting you to for the past hour and could only think about what it’d feel like to have him lose his already far gone composure if he came in you. He’d held himself back the last time and settled for desperately jerking his cum out onto your cunt rather than in it. He’d rambled something vaguely about refractory periods and used his fingers until he could fill you all the way up with him again. “Donnie, wan’ your cum. Please just stop teasing.” You had barely finished your sentence before the tall turtle slammed his hips to yours, thrusting into you with frantic plap-plap-plaps that had you moaning obscenely and clenching around him. You were still sensitive from your last orgasm and his needy thrusts were making your lower stomach tense and relax incredibly quick; you felt like he was trying to push you over the edge again. Donnie could feel the wetness coat him and he groaned as he clutched onto your hips and fucked you deep. He was wider at the base and it stretched you out each time his pelvis came into contact with yours; he bit his lip to keep from whining as he moved one of those huge, warm hands to your tits to pinch at your nipples and get you to buck your hips. You felt the second he started getting close, and tried squeezing him with your walls. Donnie cursed, creaming in you and completely crushing you into the mattress as he did so; he was utterly fucked out of his mind and the aftershocks sent little spasms through his body, he swore he went blind for a second. You had squirted, the overstimulation and feeling of him filling you up had made you leak pearly fluids all over Donnie’s lower stomach. He panted, half smiling and leaning down to kiss your forehead. He was so taking your advice more after this.
A/N I hope you guys like this! I'm not used to writing smut sooo yeah I have no clue how this turned out. Any interactions w the post are appreciated!(๑>•๑)φ
I realised I have not kept up with G W A reddit for a while and what has been going on? More Ghost, some König and Soap too! So here’s for your enjoyment :3 I have included both link to the post on G W A and straight to audio, since not everyone has Reddit, but please go give the artists some praise and comments if you like the audio! All audios are M4F, so male voices for female listeners. Have fun (as long as you’re an adult, MDNI!)
Simon “Ghost” Riley
Caught by Ghost by Badjhur (audio) (Mdom, dubcon)
Zero Hour by Badjhur (audio) (Mdom, squadmates to lovers)
Ghosting the Party by Badjhur (audio) (Mdom, interrogation)
Testing the Perimeter by Badjhur (audio) (Mdom, squadmates to lovers)
Only a Specialist’s Touch by Badjhur (audio) (Mdom, keep quiet, squadmates to lovers)
Training a Military Brat by Badjhur (audio) (Mdom, brat taming duh)
Clouded Conscience by Badjhur (audio) (Mdom, friends to lovers)
Lesson in Biochemistry by Badjhur (audio) (Mdom, sex pollen, dubcon)
Ghostly Comfort by AmbroseKincaidVA (audio) (Mdom, comfort sex)
Riling up Riley by Badjhur (audio)
This Town Ain’t Big Enough by mowhispers (audio) (AU, Sheriff Ghost is after wanted listener, Mdom)
Ghost Stories - Prisoner of War-Games by Badjhur (audio) (M4A, Mdom to Msub)
You’re Mine, I’m Yours by lostintheblaze (audio) (Mdom, spit and size kink, exhibitionism)
Ghost Stories - The Mask Stays On by Badjhur (audio) (MDom, rough sex)
This Town Ain’t Big Enough by SouthLandTale (audio)
König
Doktor’s Orders by Badjhur (audio) (Msub König, established relationship)
Trapped in a cave? by Helloworld1337 (audio)
Taking Care of König by wagnerfirst (audio)
Taking care of König by Helloworld1337 (audio)
A Night with König by cover_immortality (audio) (impro, msub)
What are you DOING under there? by Badjhur (audio) (blowjob, plus sized listener)
‘Interrogated’ by 141’s Teutonic Titan by Badjhur (audio) (CNC, Mdom, bound)
CoD Stories - Warm Sentiments by GermanRaidenASMR (audio) (Gentle Mdom, allies to lovers)
A Lazy Morning with König by GermanRaidenASMR (audio) (BFE, gentle Mdom)
I Make it Up to You Schatz by GermanRaidenASMR (audio)
John “Soap” MacTavish
Coming Clean by touchshriek (audio) (Mdom, enemies to lovers, manhandling outdoor sex)
Late Hours by ScotsLibrarian (audio) (Mdom, interrogation)
Late Hours by Touchshriek (audio)
Brats Get Punished Like They Deserve by ScotsLibrarian (audio) (Mdom, puppy sub, rough)
Captain John Price
Bravo Six Going Dark - When the Lights Go Out by Badjhur (audio) (Mdom, listener is a mother, neighbors to lovers)
Price of Punishment by Badjhur (audio) (MDom, impact play, brat taming)
Multiple characters
Let us fuck your brains out and relieve that stress by Badhjur (audio) (Ghost, König, Soap, foursome)
Your Little Fantasies Are Out Of Control by hfoaudio (audio) (Ghost AND König, mdom, love triangle)
gonna post some stuff that i've had in my drafts for a while! im gonna make some hcs for readers w male genitalia but this is what i have for right now
18+ content below MDNI
Snotlout
Oh he's in it for the love of the game
You couldn't tear him away from you even if you tried
Messy and inexperienced at first but boy is he confident!
He's trainable so that's the good news
Reallyyyy likes eating it while you're sitting down on a chair or something with him in between his legs, using his shoulders as leg rests
He can really get to work that way
Looks up for approval every now and then but mainly keeps his eyes focused between your legs
He wants to make sure he's doing everything perfectly for you so he is locked in
Will eat it night and day, breakfast, lunch, dinner, anytime, anywhere
Y'know that video of the guy that's like “wake up, eat it. go to work. come home from lunch. eat it. go back to work. leave work again just to eat it.”
That's Snotlout
Will beg for it
“Babe, I'm just saying - why wouldn't you want your super hot and talented boyfriend to eat you out right now?”
“Do we really have to show up to training on time? I can make it fast, I promise! They won't even realize we're late.”
Fishlegs
Fantasized about it for sure but never realized how sensual and intimate it was until he tried it
Soooo shy about it
You will have to talk him through it and give him directions
He wants it to be good for you but he's never done this before so the pressure is on
After getting used to it, he turns out to be pretty gentle and very attentive
Pays attention to your face and your body
Observes how your eyebrows furrow, your leg twitches, your stomach contracts - all of that
Uses that information to guide his next moves and drive you closer and closer to the edge
Not a certified eater like Snotlout but most certainly a certified pussy enjoyer
Loves making you feel adored and worshipped yk
Wants you to cum every single time and if you don't he will be very disappointed in himself
“No, it's not okay! I'm supposed to make you feel good. Just, show me what to do!"
Poor boy takes it personally even if you're just having a mental block day
He'll eventually understand not to take it too hard on himself
Wakes up craving it but he gets too shy asking for it
It's so obvious though
You'll just have to straight up ask him to go down on you
He will go so red but he definitely won't deny your request
"O-Oh, you mean right now? Well, I mean, sure, of course!"
Plays it cool but you can tell he wants it bad
Astrid
Knows what you like even before she tries it
Somehow naturally gifted at it
Service top vibes for sure
The first time she tries it she keeps asking you “is this okay?”
Will absolutely talk about how good you taste and will talk you through it in general
“Tell me how it feels, babe. How does my tongue feel on you?”
“So sweet and all for me. All mine, isn’t that right?”
Absolutely throws in a “Didn’t know you could get more beautiful” after you cum
Unless you ask her to she likes to keep things like this in a private setting
But very rarely she gets the urge to just push you up against a tree and get on her knees to taste you
It's rare though
Besides she can just make you wait until you both get back to her hut and spend all that time teasing you
Loves the build-up to it for sure
Like i mentioned earlier she’s nervous the first few times because she doesn’t want to give bad head
But after experimenting and seeing how you react to different things she has a game plan every time she goes down on you
Is a yearner in her own way and shows that though her lips and tongue
The type of head that leaves you breathless, sweaty, legs shaking, face flushed, and gripping onto her
I don’t think she has a preferred position
Whatever is most convenient or comfortable for you works for her
Tuffnut
Another trainable guy
Jokes about you letting him eat it but never expects you to actually let him
The moment you let him he's like “Wait, really? Like, really really? You'd let me?”
I don't know if i see him being super enthusiastic about it at first
He's mainly just trying to hype himself up because his jokes were all bite and no bark
He has no idea what he's doing
Will absolutely ask you questions during it
“Am I doing it right?” “So…I can put my tongue inside, too?”
Such a curious man
He would totally ask some of the other dragon riders for tips on giving head
He'll slowly start getting the hang of it after a little bit
As soon as you grab his hair to help guide him through it is the moment he starts seeing the appeal of it
He's in it for the taste and the being controlled by his girlfriend part
Will drop hints that he wants to eat it at the most inconvenient times
“So like, I was thinking after we finish this raid we could hang out at your hut, maybe show me some new moves or something?”
All the while you're in the middle of fighting off two hunters
The type of guy to literally eat it whenever and wherever
Will literally eat it behind a bush in the forest
Not even for the thrill of getting caught
He's just impatient like that
Ruffnut
Similar to tuffnut but definitely has more of an idea of what to do
I think she’d actually be kinda shy about it
To the point where you’d have to have one hand on her head guiding her while you tell her what to do and what feels nice
I think the first few times she might get frustrated since she’s not getting it
But she’s not a quitter
All she needed was a moment to regroup (and ask Astrid or one of the other dragon riders for some tips)
And boy does she come back swinging
She takes it slow and steady but confident
Still doesn’t quite know where to put her hands so she wraps them around your thighs
I think she’d have some wandering hands
She would melt if you pull her hair to guide her
After gaining some confidence, I think she would love having you sit on her face
I don’t think she’s super talkative but would occasionally throw in some comments when you pull her hair
“S-Shit, you love playing dirty, don’t you?”
If anything, I think she’d be the one responding to your dirty talk
“Fuck, Ruff. You always get me so wet and messy.” “Believe me, babe. I can taste it.”
All the while her mouth and chin are covered with your wetness
Hiccup
Again, another trainable man
Comparable to how Fishlegs is but with a tad more confidence
Will actually ask to try it instead of you bringing it up (points for initiative)
Wants it to be absolutely perfect but spoiler alert it isn't
No natural talent so he's kinda just fumbling around trying to figure out what to do
He'll be a bit stubborn at first and won't accept guidance but after some insistence he'll let you guide him
Alittle upset that he can't figure your body out himself
But puts his pride aside so he can make you feel good
He aims to make you cum every single time and is pretty good at doing so
Mentally keeps track of how many times he's made you cum and what you respond to most
Prefers eating it in his or your bed, classic style yk
On your back with him between your legs, maybe one hand holding your leg up
Not very sexually adventurous so he'll keep it limited to somewhere private and romantic
Maybe by a lake under the moonlight if he's feeling extra romantic and adventurous
I think he's a little talkative but not excessively so
He doesn't like to talk with his mouth full, yk?
But he also does want to tell you how amazing you taste, how beautiful you look - the whole works
"You're so gorgeous like this. Oh baby, I would keep you like this for hours if I could."
"You just taste too good. Can't get enough of you, never can."
I think he'd overstimulate you a little bit but nothing crazy
He'd like to see you squirm and jump at the feeling but wouldn't go much further (unless you asked)
Dagur
He and Snotlout are tied for the top eater in httyd
Both embody the “wake up. eat it.” dude
The difference between them is that Dagur has natural skill
He is naturally talented with that tongue of his and those fingers
Seesaws between nice soft dom and a teasing little jackass who somehow still has you melting in his arms
Will absolutely tell you to “cum for daddy” even if you don't have a daddy kink
Force of habit yk?
Likes being on his knees while he's eating it
You could be leaning against a tree with him in between your legs or on the edge of a bed with him between your legs
Encourages you to grab onto his hair
Intense eye contact that only mildly reminds you that he's slightly mentally unstable
Talks you through it every single time
If you guys are just chilling and he gets the urge, he'll definitely beg to eat it
But most of the time he just gives you a certain look
And you know what that look means
“Well, we have the next hour to spare. Whaddya say we go somewhere, just the two of us, so I can show you something special I learned with my tongue, hm?”
warnings ; german joke, german language, slight dubcon, hair pulling, 18+, smut, slight breeding kink, hyperspermia
it had started with a stupid comment about his nationality. you both were arguing about american foods, about how könig thought this place had no culture of its own, and much— much more. he thought it was funny, but even though you had your own problems with your country, it didn’t mean you liked lies and propaganda to be spread. ESPECIALLY about the culture.
“yeah? well you’re fucking german!”
you didn’t even register what you said, just said the first thing on your tongue. könig made it a point the moment you two started dating that he was austrian. not german.
two separate things. and he genuinely takes offense to it, even if the language is the same. he turned to you, stone wall of a body moving in one quick step, neck tilted like he didn’t quite hear you right, “say that again?”
he made you pay for your insolence, grabbing you by the hair— balling it up in his fist to drag you over to the kitchen table. not enough to cause extreme pain, but enough to tug at your roots, urging your feet to follow.
“wieder?” könig had you bent over the table, elbow digging into the middle of your back as he kept that same grip on your hair. his voice was steady, low and vibrating in your ears.
“didn’t mean it like that…” you tried to whimper out, legs kicking the table, wanting to get out from under him— but the wetness gathering in your panties said otherwise. it was like he could smell it leaking out of you, groping at your puffy pussy with a rough hand, giving it a good squeeze before gathering his fist in the hem of your pants. he pulled them down in one quick pull, letting the tight material bunch up at your thighs— keeping them together.
könig pulled the thin fabric of your panties down, putting your pussy and ass on full display.
“sollte dich immer so haben” he spoke through gritted teeth and jutted his elbow into your spine, a warning, a command not to move from this position. in the dead silence of your shared house, you could hear the metal clicking of könig’s belt, shivers running through your body when you heard the sound of it being whipped out of his belt loops. “Du lernst es einfach nie, oder?”
“Ihnen beibringen, woher Ihre Kinder kommen werden” the tip of his cock forced itself past your tight folds, struggling to fit into the awkward position— wishing to just spread your legs. “Vielleicht hörst du dann zu.”
“I don’t even know what you’re saying!” you cried out in genuine confusion, choking up as könig reached your cervix, threatening to go further if given the room.
“mein armes Mädchen” he was breathless as he bottomed out, thickly calloused hands coming to rest on your hips— using them as an anchor. “Du wirst nicht mehr so viel weinen, wenn ich fertig bin.”
he dragged his cock back, making you feel every curve and vein against your slick walls, hissing when your warmth refused to let him move. “Scheiße, Mädchen” your pussy looked absolutely divine from the back, clinging to him, both holes fluttering from the intrusion.
there was no sympathy for your poor pussy. he immediately started drilling into you, rocking your body against the table, making the legs squeak on the floor. all you could do was press your lips together and take deep breaths, suppressing your moans. könig always hurt a bit when he got carried away. he didn’t even care when he pulled your first orgasm, simply fucking around your pitiful liquid— nothing compared to his thick cum.
he spread his legs wider, pulling you back to meet him halfway, finally giving up with the position— you were too fucking short for it. könig wrapped one thick forearm around your abdomen, lifting you up higher onto the table, keeping your ass up and face smooshed to the wood. “com’on baby, talk to me”
“c-can’t take it anymor-” a harsh slap to your ass made you cry out instead of finishing your sentence, feeling his hand immediately grab at the flesh, pulling your cheeks apart, thumbing dangerously close to your other hole. “in deutsch, stupid girl”
“ja, herr” you mumbled out, speaking in the only german words you could remember. eyes starting to close as könig continued his assault on your pussy, making it and the back of your thighs turn all red. when he did finally cum, you could feel it fill your womb, oozing around his cock and dribbling down your pussy— no doubt already taking. sure to be round with his kids soon. his austrian kids.
just a little funny smutty blurb thing idk :b came to me while i was at the ethel cain concert !! actual convo i had w my german friend once just not the uh pure smut
SUMMARY: Y/N is a transfer student to her new college where her last year is about to start and she needs one more good night out. Going to a bar two towns away changed her fate of the night, having an older man in her arms by the end of it. What she wasn't expecting is that she would see him a few days later - teaching the class.
WORDCOUNT: 3,429
WARNINGS: 18+, age gap, cursing, smut
Part 1
<><><>
Who knew a drive home could drive a young woman insane? You had the quintessential man of your dreams in the back of a taxi with you. In the next hour you know clothing will be discarded and you’ll have one hell of a story to tell Marina.
Impatience was your vice and it was raging right now.
“Chaos theory- where’d you learn that?”
“Oh, I went to the University of Texas at Austin to study mathematics and it was my concentration. My specialty, if you will. What’s your specialty?”
Wouldn’t you like to know my specialty?
Biting your tongue was a must. You also had to bite your tongue about how you were studying your said specialty at the moment. You were starting to realize if he could tell you were in college or not. Those around you have said you look older than what your age was and now you are seeing what they mean in real time.
“I’m a bioenvironmental engineer.”
“Beauty and brains, I see. All while knowing Latin?”
“I have a soft spot for the humanities. I read about ancient western studies in my free time.”
“And a huge nerd!” you laugh and lightly hit his arm, which causes him to escape some giggles.
The taxi slows down and comes to a stop in front of a small house. It’s quaint and you can already tell it’s going to have a cozy feel to it. Ian pays the driver and leads you out of the car and into his house.
“Now, I apologize for the somewhat organized mess. I moved in around a week and a half ago, so the process of unpacking has yet to be completed.”
“Oh, don’t worry. You still kept it neat, that’s all that matters.”
Ian makes his way into his kitchen to fetch two water bottles for you two. You stand in his dining room, admiring the pieces of furniture he picked out for his humble abode.
“So…according to you, the only way to show me what cubitum eamus means is by having us both on a bed, hm?” Ian says smoothly while handing you a water bottle.
“Perhaps. Or on a couch. Or a table. Even the floor,” you inch closer to him and when you look up at him, you finally realize the small distance between you two. All he had to do was lean down and his lips would be on yours in no time.
“And where exactly would you prefer it?”
“Wherever there’s going to be the most room.”
“I would say floor then, but I don’t want those knees of yours getting too much in pain.”
Impatience has become you in many instances, some not so pretty moments. Right here, on the other hand, what perfect timing to have quite the vice.
You close the gap between Ian and you with a soft kiss, but it was him that brought the kisses to a level of hunger. Your arms slip around his neck while his tongue slips in your mouth. Hands on the familiar territory of your waist. You could’ve just spent the whole night standing right there, making out with him.
Ian knew you had other plans and took those matters into his own hands.
With one swift motion, you were hoisted up. A quiet, little yelp came out and you were carried to his bedroom.
You honestly couldn’t believe this was happening. One night stands were not a thing you did nor leaving the bar with random men for any reason. It was fun to look at them, but to do anything about it? Taking action was never on your radar.
Meanwhile, action was in motion as Ian kissed you hard, then laid you down on his bed. You knew if you went home with some college guy the experience would not live up to this. Seeing the nice headboard Ian had, you mentally noted to use that in the next few minutes if the sex ends up where you’d need to hold on.
Not cutting eye contact, he gives you his bedroom eyes with a smirk while taking off your shoes. After placing them down, he heats things up by giving kisses on the inner part of your legs. His fingertips lightly rub your thighs, damn near ticklish for you.
Your chest visibly rises up and down as the nerves build up in the pit of your stomach. Excitement, shyness, all of it crumple up together to hit you. A first for you, but you couldn’t imagine it any other way. The only downside was that there was a good chance you wouldn’t see or hear from Ian after tonight. Might as well make the most of having him in your possession.
He climbs on top of you and your lips’ immediately make their way back on each other. Your fingers find his curls, admiring the softness of his ringlets while feeling your core get wetter by the second.
As much as you love having your fingers in his hair, you love it more when they are unbuttoning his shirt. Sitting up on his knees, he threw the shirt on his floor and was about to go back down to you, but you stopped him by placing your hand on his chest.
“Everything alright?”
“Oh- oh yeah, I just wanted to get a good look,” you say as you trail your hand down to the waistband of jeans.
“Want to do the honors?”
“Don’t gotta ask me twice,” and you went to work undoing his belt and his jeans. Ian looked down at you, your eyes’ meeting as you finally pulled down the zipper.
He gets off the bed and fully discarded the pants, leaving him in his boxers. Now seeing him in all his glory, you were astonished. He was toned, particularly big in his back and shoulder area. No wonder he was able to pick you up like it was nothing. He could’ve been one of those models for Calvin Klein, for God’s sake.
“Enjoying the view?”
“Well, I did say I wanted to get a good look.”
Ian chuckles and shakes his head while he places his hands on his hips. “Yes, but something’s off…your clothes aren’t off.”
“Yet.”
“Ah, there’s that magic word,” and Ian’s hands found the hem of your top real quick. To his surprise — and yours too since you honestly forgot — you weren’t wearing a bra. With the way your Levi jeans were hugging you in all the right places, hair done just right, it was picture perfect to him.
“Can’t have a staring contest all night with my chest, sweetheart.”
“Who are you calling sweetheart?”
“I can call you baby, but that requires more than just this.”
Ian was baffled. He always had the upper hand with flirting and seducing women. Hell, he even got Dr. Sattler to blush a few times from his harmless flirting and she was seeing Alan. Ian was just one of those men that women would bend for, even if they had someone already.
But this was an entirely different beast he has yet to encounter.
“Alright, but that means you have to finally show me what exactly the phrase meant.”
A smirk finds its home on your lips after those prophetic words fell from Ian’s lips. He helps take off your jeans, leaving you in just your underwear.
“Yeah, I think you have a feeling what it already means.”
“You sure about that? I’m more of a visual learner anyway,” and then your underwear was off and tossed to the floor. You wanted to shy away under a blanket with how Ian was looking at you. Such amazement, such hunger, it was a look that was entirely foreign to you when you were the one before the stare.
“I can rest assured you that I am as well,” and you return the favor by pulling down his boxers. You were trying to keep your cool, but by the looks of it, you had a feeling the sex was going to be a tad painful if it got rough.
You stand up from the edge of the bed and close the gap again to continue the kissing. His hands roamed your bare skin and the goosebumps couldn’t control themselves. God, you were nervous as ever, but wanted to be the one to take the lead somewhat since he seemed to be letting you. You had Ian fooled, thinking you were comfortable and confident in this situation, meanwhile your pulse felt like it was going to burst.
With your hands on his hips you turned him around so he was the one to lay on the bed. Ian already liked where this was going.
“Well this is a first.”
“What?”
“The woman going on top first,” he says with a cocky smile.
“You know what they say,” you climb onto the bed and straddle his lap. “Ladies first.”
You align the tip of his cock to your entrance and slowly make your way down back onto his lap. Euphoria captured the both of you, your eyes fluttering close and Ian muttering a “fuck” under his breath.
You were fucking him. The steady pace you had had your mind somewhere else, the pleasure giving you a high you weren’t used to. Ian was helping with that since his hands were feeling up your body, particularly your tits. Occasionally, he would pinch your nipples, knowing it would drive you crazy.
Ian could feel you about to reach for your climax as your moans were making that apparent. Him being the way he is, he wanted to mess with you a little to edge you on. He grabs you and flips you two over with him now on top. You looked at him in shock and were a little upset that he had just ruined your build up.
“You needed a break. Why don’t I take care of you for a bit, hm?” he kisses you and starts thrusting. He found out fast you weren’t one to take it slow, so he ramped up his speed to the point of you moaning out his name.
Considering how large Ian was, there was no actual pain like you thought there was. Then that little idea came to you. While he was fucking your brains out you lift up your legs for him to hold onto, but your smirk sent him the message you had another idea.
He repositioned himself a bit to be able to push your leg back, showing off your flexibility. You could feel how deep he got – and how well he was hitting your g-spot.
“Holy fuck- yes!” you were gripping the duvet, knuckles turning white and you couldn’t contain your moans. Every conscious thought you had was whisked away to some corner of your brain for the time being. All you could focus on was the feeling of Ian on top of you, moaning from his own overwhelming pleasure, and the way his voice sounded with your name rolling off his tongue.
Ian has had many one night stands in his lifetime. It’s a dance he knew all the steps to with years of practice. Some underwhelming while others were just right. You kept him on his toes the entire night since meeting him and it surprised him how well you were able to match him with everything. He was convinced you were going to be some shy, easily swayed woman. But the fact that you went home with him was your idea, he was experiencing his own firsts tonight too.
“You feel so good,” Ian moans, then gives you a sloppy kiss as he continues to pound into you. You felt hazy, brain empty. That’s how you knew the sex was good as hell. You could stay like this the entire night and you had a sneaky suspicion Ian is feeling the same way.
“Ian, don’t stop- please!” before you knew it the coil snapped and you came undone. Every ounce of your body could feel it. He could feel you coming and kept at the same pace that got you there in the first place.
“That’s right, baby, ride it out.” he said while watching your eyes roll in the back of your head. Feeling you tighten around him, your pretty moans, everything about you in this moment – Ian finally snapped.
His moans alone could’ve made you come a second time. Your legs finally got to fall onto the bed and the achiness caught up with you. You try not to let it show, but when he pulled out you winced.
“You okay?”
“Oh yeah, I’m just a little sore.” Ian put up his finger and went into the bathroom to clean himself up. You grabbed your underwear along with your top to cover yourself. Everything that just happened starts sinking in and you can’t help but be a bit in disbelief.
“I think it’s time for me to get going.”
“You sure? You’re more than welcome to stay the night and I can drive you in the morning.”
You were really debating it. It’s not a terrible idea, especially getting to be held after sex like that.
“Fine. Twist my arm, why don’t you,” and Ian cracks a smile and gets in bed with you. He instantly puts an arm around you and your head finds its way to his chest. With a reach of his arm, he turns the lamp off.
“Is it bad that I’m debating on proposing a round two?” he says aloud in the dark.
“As much as I would adore getting fucked like that again, I don’t think my body could handle all that again,” you mumble with your eyes closed. You both chuckle and he tightens his hold of you.
“Fair enough,” and you two drift off to sleep.
<><><>
Your eyes shot open. The light from the window is the first thing in your view. Your back is pressed against Ian and his arm is draped over your waist lazily. You thank your lucky stars that he doesn’t have a grip so you can squirm away from him.
As quiet as you can, you get dressed and go to the living room. Once you find his phone, you dial the one number that you knew would come in handy in a situation like this.
“Hello?”
“Marina, get a pen and paper. I’m about to give you Ian’s address. He’s still asleep and I need you to come and get me.” you whisper into the phone.
“Jesus, is everything alright?”
“Yeah, I’m completely fine, but after all, this is a one night stand.”
You give her the address and Marina realizes that he only lives about five minutes from her house.
“I’ll be there in no time. I suggest you leave his house and start walking towards Delafield Street.” you both hang up. Before flying out the door, you decide to find a paper and pen to leave your name and number. Just in case he decides he wants that round two.
<><><>
Two days later…
The campus was buzzing. The weather was immaculate, which meant that the campus green was littered with students hanging out on blankets and chairs.
Everything just felt fresh for you. You could feel it that you made the right decision coming back home and becoming a commuter student at a nearby college. Ironically enough, this school is harder to get into than your previous institution, so that definitely helped with your confidence.
It was so warm you got to wear denim shorts and a tucked-in-bloused-out baggy top. You were glowing – Saturday night being part of the reason as to why.
Yet, Ian hasn’t called you.
It’s not that it’s upsetting you, but you kind of were hoping for at least one call. You knew not to get your hopes up and reminded yourself that you were the one to run out in the morning.
Your first class of the day was a 10:30 a.m. math class. With the complications of switching over to a new college, you didn’t get your schedule until the last minute. While at the school bookstore, you check your paper once more to see what book you needed for your math class.
It’s a chaos theory based mathematics class.
You saw the name of your professor.
“No no no no no no,” you whispered to yourself. When the worker came over, she handed you the book and told you to have a good day. You faked your polite smile and went off to class.
A freak out was in order, but it was at the worst possible timing.
When you entered the class, you took your seat in the second row. Immediately, you got yourself situated to distract yourself from the fact that the man you slept with two days ago is at the front of the class, about to teach.
Ian’s back was facing you as he was writing the name of the class along with his full title. There was low chatter going on from fellow students, but you kept quiet as a mouse with your arms crossed in front of your chest. The anxiety was working overtime with your morning coffee and a trip to the bathroom didn’t seem so bad right now.
That was until Ian turned around and started class.
His eyes landed on you. You held the stare with a “I’m trying to act like what happened never did” look.
“Welcome, everyone,” said Ian. “I’m Dr. Ian Malcolm and I’ll be the one torturing you with chaos theory for this class.” Low chuckles erupted through the class.
You stayed silent with a resting face.
<><><>
After leaving the bathroom after class, you knew a decision had to be made. To either just go to the library and chill or walk up to his office door and face reality.
Knock knock knock
Ian looks up from his paper work. His eyes softened with a flash of panic. He motioned for you to come in.
With the click of the door closing and the sound of you plopping in the chair, it was the start of a conversation you weren’t sure you were ready to endure.
“You had me fooled,” Ian starts.
“Look, I just want to say I’m really sorry about not telling you that I’m 22 and a student-”
“Oh, that would’ve changed the entire trajectory of that night, I can tell you that much.”
You sat there with your head down, eyes taking more interest in your lap than Ian’s face.
“But I don’t regret it.” Your eyes shot up to meet his face. A smile started to slowly spread across his face while his arms were crossed.
“Me too,” you say, barely above a whisper.
The silence that followed was all knowing, all comforting.
“So…you’re not mad at me?”
“Miss Y/L/N, the only thing I’m mad at is how much I enjoyed it, how much I want to do it again with you, and that I woke up without you in my arms.”
You felt the air leave your body and you were ready to choke on your own spit.
“Oh so now we’re doing formalities?” you nervously joked. Ian did a low chuckle that was starting to ruin your underwear. “Well…now with that out of the way,” you stand up and grab your bag. “I hope you have a good rest of your day, professor.”
“Wait.”
You snap your head back towards him. Your hand was on the doorknob, but it quickly left it when you watched Ian motion with his finger to come to him. Thank goodness the only window in that office was one that gave a view of the back of the building.
“Yes?”
Ian stands up, towering over you like he did Saturday night. The smell of leather and his expensive cologne was slowly entrancing your brain.
His hands come to the side of your face and your breath hitches.
“Is this alright?” he asks in a low tone.
“Yes,” you breathe out and Ian wastes no time with getting his lips back on yours. For the past 48 hours this is all he’s been wanting.
“And with that,” he gives you another kiss, softer this time. “I bid you farewell, miss Y/L/N. Have a lovely rest of your day.”
You could’ve fucked him again right on his desk.
Instead, you leave his office, poker face on.
On the inside, you were shamelessly plotting how to have that man again and happy dancing.
Strange Attractors - The Lost World (4423 words) by WizardToad
Summary: After recovering from the events at Jurassic Park Ian Malcolm signs an NDA, reserving himself to the somewhat quiet life of teaching. When you show up, however, you turn his life upside down. Giving into desires you both know you shouldn't, while a man called Richard Levine keeps pestering him about a so-called Lost World. (Smut in chapter 3)
Chapter 1: That’s Plagiarism, Young Lady
His lips make their way over your shoulder as his hair tickles your neck, sending shivers down your spine. His hands roam freely over your curves. The aroma of his cologne mixed with the coffee on his breath envelops you. He grips your waist and lifts you up, setting you down on his desk. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him flush to your core as your lips meet once again. His hands squeeze your thighs at the sensation. Your hands slide over his black shirt, almost ripping the buttons open-.
You manage to shake out of your chaotician-induced hypnosis just in time to see the one and only Dr. Ian Malcolm squinting at you in the bright sunlight. Shit, the whole auditorium is looking at you, he must’ve asked you a question. He knows he caught you daydreaming and a self-satisfactory grin appears on his face. A single ray of sunshine creeps in through the window, shining right on the man in front of you. Paying attention to Professor Malcolm's lectures was never easy, but the way the golden rays reflect off the stray gray hairs on the side of his head is making it entirely impossible today. You haven't heard a single word the man has said, too sucked up in your daydream.
“If you recall, miss (Y/L/N), we were just talking about the ways in which self-organizing behaviours of complex systems are of interest to the study of evolution.” He gestures with his hand, urging you to continue.
Fuck, you really should’ve been paying attention. You were a good student, you really were, but he had caught you off-guard now. He loved tormenting you like that. Dr. Malcolm had been talking your ear off about this a few nights ago when you were reading some papers from a freshman course. Racking your brain for something to spew out, you remember a bit he said about adaptation and the way complex systems seem to strike a balance between the need for order and the imperative to change, locating themselves at the edge of chaos. He raises his eyebrows and smirks, satisfied with your answer. You mentally wipe the sweat from your forehead as he continues his lecture.
Malcolm’s is the last class on Friday evening so the students practically storm out of the auditorium the second it's over. You, however, still have TA duties to fulfill. You deeply regret agreeing to spend the evening working on some stuff in his office. It seemed like a good idea at the time, the two of you alone. You've had a major crush on your professor ever since you stepped foot in his class. Hell, it's the whole reason you applied to become his TA. But now it just felt silly, and you’d rather be in a bar getting shit-faced with your roommate.
As the others stampede out like a herd of buffalo, you saunter over to his desk at the front. He’s still packing away his papers.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice you copying me word for word. That’s plagiarism young lady” He teases, sending you a lopsided smile
“Well you did put me on the spot, I had to say something” You lean against his desk, cracking your back. If they’re gonna make people sit in them for two hours, they really should make those damn chairs a bit more comfortable.
“Or maybe you should just pay attention to the lecture next time” He closes his bag and you roll your eyes. He pauses for a minute, thinking. The curiosity kills him, he has to ask. “What were you so preoccupied with?” He comes around the desk and leans next to you, the height difference even more apparent now.
You feel your ears burning red, recalling the daydream you’d had earlier. You couldn’t tell him the truth, obviously. You scramble for something to say, managing to come up with “Oh, just this assignment for Dr. Thorne’s class. He’s making us solve one of his impossible engineering mysteries again, you know how he is.” You laugh awkwardly, hoping he doesn’t inquire further about the non-existent assignment. He nods “Yeah, typical.” he hums. You let out a soft sigh of relief, he bought it. He swings his bag over his shoulder and ushers you toward his office “C'mon, we've got a lot of work to do tonight.”
As Dr. Malcolm’s TA, you were usually tasked with doing the shitty jobs he didn't want to do. You sometimes wonder why he even has a TA if he barely needs help with anything useful. So now you were stuck in his office, entering research data into the computer on his desk while your roommate was out partying.
He paces the office with long strides, focused on the papers in his hand. He stares at them with a frown. "Can you believe this shit?" You look up from the computer, finger on the paper in front of you to keep track of the number you were just about to enter.
"Douchebag" he mutters.
"Everything okay Dr. Malcolm?"
He looks up at you, a glint in his eyes. He loves it when you call him Dr. Malcolm. He’d never admit it of course, but it made him feel strong and authoritative. For years after the park, he couldn’t go anywhere without his cane. He used to be known as the rock star scientist, and now people just looked at him with pity. Having to rely on others had made him feel weak, the way they looked at him as they helped him up, or held the door open for him, it drove him crazy. Everyone treated him like a sick puppy, except you. You still looked at him with that sense of wonder in your eyes, as if you couldn’t believe that you were standing in front of the great Dr. Malcolm, and he eats it up every time. It makes him feel like his work is still worth something.
He appreciated that you never asked about this injury either. After the park, everyone involved signed an NDA, forced to keep quiet about what really went down in Costa Rica. Ever since then people haven’t stopped pestering them with their crazy conspiracy theories, some more accurate than others. Regardless, he had to keep to his story, and lie to the masses. Lie to you. His leg had been much better these days, though. He didn’t need his cane anymore, but he felt his reputation had been tarnished anyway.
"Remember that uh- scientist who interrupted my lecture last week? What's his name, uh- Levine. He's convinced there's a real Lost World somewhere."
The Lost World hypothesis was one of the many theories scientists had come up with to try and answer the never-ending questions regarding the K-T extinction event. The hypothesis states that dinosaurs may never have fully gone extinct and that somewhere in the world, there's an isolated haven where there are still living, breathing dinosaurs. It's absurd, but then again most scientific theories are.
"What? But that's just a theory. It's a fantasy."
"You don't have to tell me" he runs a hand through his hair sighing. You can tell he's bothered by it, maybe more than he should be, but you decide not to press it.
"He wants me to help him research it. Find the supposed island, go on an expedition, the whole works. He's been bugging me about this theory all week but I didn't think he'd go this far."
"He's completely nuts." You shake your head.
"He's a pain in the ass is what he is" he grumbles, walking up to the desk and throwing the letter in the trash can. He leans on the back of your chair, hands nearly touching your neck making you shiver from the near-contact. You sigh audibly as you enter in the last data on this page, just seven more to go.
“You know what?” He suddenly exclaims, slapping the back of your chair ”We’ve done enough for tonight. We shouldn’t be holed up here all night. Go on home (Y/N)” You lean back in the chair, tilting your head all the way backward to look at him. “You’re the best, Dr. Malcolm. I think my fingers are about to fall off.” You sigh, your brows knit together. He laughs, turning the chair and shooing you out the door.
“Go on, go out and have fun or whatever young people do. See you Monday.”
“See you Monday Dr. Malcolm.” You wave him goodbye as you walk to your dorm. Your roommate had let you know which bar she was going to, and it was still early enough to quickly change and meet up with her there. Easy peasy, your Friday night could still be saved.
Thoughts on ferret hybrid reader with larger predator hybrid 141, cause I think its hilarious  🤣
Oh my stars, yes
(fist-fought demons to get this out, smh)
-=-=-=-
Picture this: the 141 are a task force made up of entirely large predator hybrids- creatures you wouldn't want to tango with even without factoring in the human intelligence and possibility of holding a grudge
I'm thinking Tiger Soap, Alligator Price, Grey Wolf Gaz, and Polar Bear Ghost; each of them strong, regal, and terrifying in their own right
So when they got you added to the team, a small(er) and springy Ferret Hybrid, they had absolutely no clue what to make of it.
Was it an elaborate prank from Laswell? Were you secretly a super soldier? They had no clue what to expect, especially since none of them had ever been around anyone who owned a pet ferret
So once you had gotten settled in, Soap had excitedly dragged you to the gym, demanding a spar as the other three just shook their heads in exasperation. They expected to later hear all about how he took you down in two seconds flat, or maybe get a report that you've been landed in the infirmary after the scot got carried away again. Instead, a few hours later, they found him laying on the couch of the rec room, looking baffled as if someone had just proven that the sky was actually green.
"They just.... flipped out- one sec'nd we're gearin' up, tae next they're all over tae place an' I'm flat on mah back, I dunno wha' tae fook happened," He sounded confused about his own words even as he spoke them, hands gesturing about as if trying to mold invisible clay like it'd make anything make any more sense.
At the time, the rest of the men had just laughed it off. Soap getting taken down by a little ferret like you? Had to have been some kind of joke, or Soap was just off his game that day
At least, they thought that up until they finally had a team training session, with each getting paired up and sent onto the mats to spar and get their forms critiqued, whatever the hell excuse they fed to the higher ups to justify getting to clobber eachother for a bit and get paid for it
They paired you up against Gaz first, the wolf shaking out his limbs and readying up, trying to hide his cocky little smirk- no doubt thinking it'd be over fairly quickly as you readied up across from him
With a glance between the two of you, Price called to begin, and-
Before Gaz got a chance to move, you were darting up to him, light on your paws as you got right up in his space. Gaz reared back, going to take a swipe at you, his fist meeting empty air as you ducked and rolled under his swing, bouncing back up onto your paws and darting up into his space again
Gaz backed up, trying to get space, but you just kept bouncing around, ducking and rolling and doing spins- at one point he swears you did a spin like a breakdancer, only to do a roll back onto your feet and immediately spring into a cartwheel
It left him baffled, his logic and training flailing with eachother over what the hell he's supposed to do about this-
Then your tail hooked around his knee and pulled, and you were right there, grabbing his arm and wrenching it over your shoulder, a startled yip! escaping him as the rest of his body quickly followed
his chin slammed into the mat, and before he got the sense to get up, you were already planted on his back, knee leaning your weight on his trapped wrists and pinning him down
Gaz blinked.
What just happened
Price called the match, amusement barely kept out of his voice in favor of professionalism, but Ghost and Soap had no such reservations
"SEE? SEE?! AH FOOKIN' TOLD YE BELLENDS BOUT TAE FLIPS BUT NOOOO NO'ONE WANTED TAE LISTEN-!" Soap bellowed, nearly drowned out by Ghost's explosive laughter, the arctic hybrid almost curled clear over as he absolutely lost it, breaking into a coughing fit as Soap spun to point at him with an accusatory point, "YOOU SHUT YER GOB YE FUCK"
"30 Seconds; Match goes to [Name]" Price called, and you hopped off of Gaz's back with a happy little dookdook
"What, the hell, was that???" He questioned, getting back to his feet like he was worried you'd start doing backflips if he moved too fast
You just grinned, a single snaggletooth poking over your lip
"War dance! Only effective a third of the time, but it works" you shrugged, trotting your happy ass over to the rest bench to swipe a granola bar like you didn't just rattle Gaz's skull and give Soap the vindication he's needed all month
These links all contain NSFW content, everything is 18+. All X/Twitter links (you have to be logged in before viewing)
Cw: size difference kink (Ron's), oral (fem!Receiving), assisted masturbation (?), creampie, breeding, implied public sex, car sex, double penetration, rough sex (Oliver's maybe)
A/N: Honestly Twitter p*rn is so ass at this point. I hope the following videos are to your liking! I tried to find videos with no weird tags. Theres one account used below that I'm pretty sure is questionable..but the videos themselves have nothing wrong and the caption is fine too.
Ron Weasley :
Big cock is used for filling
Keeping you in place, does size matter?
A proper munch
Harry Potter :
Having his reward after saving the day, again
Stroking him because he just NEEDS it
Just a little fun before class
Fred Weasley :
Breeding you because he's a family guy
Having breakfast in the burrows, out in the open
Riding in the Backseat of the car
George Weasley :
Rather be taking care of you then watching TV
Riding till you're full
You looked so sweet grinding on his cock in your panties
Twins together :
Two at once?
Jerking them off<3
Two holes for a reason
Oliver Wood :
Tasting you before a match, the sight of you spread out gives him luck
they love messing with you. love how easy it is to slip into each other’s roles, how seamlessly they weave deception into pleasure, leaving you dazed. the teasing starts innocuous enough—fred whispering the same filth word-for-word in your ear that you swear george had said just yesterday. catching a glimpse of a hickey beneath george’s collar, a mark you’re sure you left on fred this morning. half the time you don’t even know which one’s between your legs until it’s too late to care.
and they love it. almost as much as they love you.
you just don’t realise, not at first, anyway. or maybe it’s just easier to pretend you don’t. the twins think it’s sooo funny. well—fred thinks it’s how you hesitate before moaning out a name, and george just enjoys the privilege of getting to bend you over the nearest surface whenever he likes.
“y’alright, love?” one of them drawls, leaning against the wall, arms folded loosely over his chest. “look a bit peaky.”
you glare at him over your book, unimpressed.
“gee, i wonder why.”
his grin only widens.
“haven’t the foggiest!”
you don’t believe it for a second. but before you can fire back, fred (or maybe george, you’re not sure anymore) is plucking the book from your hands, flipping through the pages idly.
“good read?” he muses, thumbing through the text “can’t imagine it’s half as entertainin’ as last night.”
your cheeks burn. “oh, piss off.”
but he doesn’t. obviously. instead, he leans in, tucking himself into your space. he smells likes like butterbeer and ink, which made you decide he’s fred.
“actually,” he murmurs pensively, “was thinkin’ we ought to have a bit of a repeat performance.”
“again?”
he grins. and it made your stomach flutter. “reckon so, yeah.”
“fred,” you whine, half-exasperated. “i can barely walk.”
“right, right. s’pose we should give you a break.”
and then—
“good thing i’m george, then, innit?”
your stomach drops.
“what d’you say, love?” he sniggers, fingers skimming the inside of your wrist. “gonna let me have my turn, or am i gonna have to start convincing you?”
wait. wait. your eyes narrow in suspicion.
“hold on.. i thought you had your turn.”
“oh, i did,” he agrees. “but you’re so accommodating.”before you can so much as protest, he’s already hoisting you up, making his way toward the nearest empty classroom.
“you two are the worst.”
“yeah, but something tells me you love it,”
you don’t answer. you can’t, really—not when he’s already shoving you up against the desk, tilting your chin up so he can kiss you properly, swallowing whatever pitiful excuse you might have left.
Being best friends with Ginny Weasley was the easiest thing in the world. Or, at least, it had been at the start. The two of you had three simple rules.
#3. Always save each other a seat.
#2. Never lie to one another.
#1. Ginny’s brothers were off-limits.
It was rule #1 that you found yourself currently in contempt of. But how were you meant to know when you’d made that promise that a few years down the track everything would change?
———————————————————————
You had been best friends with Ginny Weasley for as long as you could remember.
It had started sometime in first year, when you found her crying in the girls’ bathroom after throwing a book at moaning Myrtle. You didn’t ask questions. You just sat next to her, pulled a Chocolate Frog from your bag, and said, “You don’t have to tell me. But if you want to, I’m here.” That was the moment it began. Since then, your friendship had become a constant in both of your lives. Like the hum of the Hogwarts Express, or the steady whistle of the wind through the trees by the Black Lake.
And there were rules. Unspoken at first, but eventually written down during a sleepover at the Burrow in a notebook charmed to sparkle and float around Ginny’s room. The most sacred of them all: “Don’t fall for one of my brothers. Ever.”
You remembered the moment it was written with almost photographic clarity. Ginny had been sitting cross-legged at the foot of her bed, face twisted with frustration as she doodled angry lightning bolts in the margins.
“Honestly, it’s like every girl who’s ever spoken to me suddenly wants to be my best mate the second they lay eyes on one of them,” Ginny muttered bitterly, tossing her quill down. “Lavender started cozying up to me last year and I thought maybe she actually wanted to be friends. But no. She just wanted to ask if Ron was ‘as tall in person as he looked from across the Great Hall.’ Gross.”
You laughed back then, genuinely amused and a little horrified. “You’re joking.”
“I wish I were,” Ginny huffed, brushing her hair back with a quick, irritated flick. “Then there was Marietta. She was practically joined at my hip during dinner and the whole time she was working up the courage to ask if I’d introduce her to George. George!”
“She didn’t even pretend to care about you, did she?”
“Not for a second,” Ginny snapped. Then her expression softened as she looked at you. “That’s why I like you. You’re not here for any of that rubbish.”
Back then you had smiled and laced your pinky through hers, swearing on it.
Now, whenever it was even remotely brought up - like when Angelina tried to hangout with the two of you to get a date with Fred - you had to force yourself to smile. Even as your heart twisted.
You hadn’t intended to fall for one of Ginny’s brothers, but sometime in the past four years, you had. Something about Fred’s clever jokes, his chaotic grin, and the way he always found time to check in on you had chipped away at your resolve. You had fallen slowly, helplessly, painfully. And you had said nothing. Because of the rule.
Because you loved Ginny.
You remembered her smile that night, soft and genuine.
“If I ever find out someone’s only here to get to one of them,” she said. “I’ll never forgive them. Promise me you’ll never do that.”
“Of course,” you had sworn.
You meant it, back then. You couldn’t have predicted you would genuinely fall for one of them. And you still meant it now, in your own twisted way. You had no intention of doing anything about your feelings. Loving Fred from a distance didn’t count. Did it?
But lately it had become harder to look away. He was noticing you. Not the way he noticed everyone else. Not with the performative charm or cheeky quips he tossed around like fireworks. No, he was watching you when he thought you weren’t looking. Catching your eye across the dinner table. Sitting closer than he used to, finding reasons to touch your arm when he laughed. Or maybe you were imagining it.
But you and Ginny had rules.
And you were already breaking rule #1.
———————————————————————
The Burrow was chaos, as usual.
The second you stepped through the crooked front door with Ginny, the scent of fresh bread and stewed onions wrapped around you like a warm blanket. The air was humid with the smell of summer earth and something sugary baking in the oven. A breeze drifted in from the open kitchen window, carrying laughter from the garden and the sounds of someone - probably Ron - grunting as he lugged trunks upstairs.
“Welcome home!” Molly was fussing as she grabbed each one of them by the face and planted a big kiss on their cheeks.
“Gross, mum!” The boys groaned and wiped their faces with their sleeves as they came into the house.
“My darling girls!” Molly greeted the two of you, pulling both you and Ginny into a tight hug.
“Hey, Mrs Weasley,” you greeted with a warm smile. You’d spend so much time here that the Burrow had come to feel like your second home, and the Weasleys like a second pair of parents.
“Oh, how you’ve grown up since the last time I saw you!” The stout woman patted your check affectionately, then stepped back to gesture to the already set table.
“Lunch, everyone! On the table, NOW!” Molly Weasley’s voice thundered through the house with such maternal command it could’ve made a mountain walk.
You hadn’t even had time to protest when Arthur took your trunk before you were swept up in the current of Weasley children charging into the kitchen like a herd of hippogriffs. Chairs scraped. Plates clattered. Elbows jabbed for better positioning. It was always a game of survival when it came to getting a good seat at the Burrow’s table.
Fred emerged from seemingly nowhere at your side, grinning like he’d just won something. “Well, well,” he said in that voice of his - low and amused, with just enough of a lilt to make your stomach flip. “Guess this seat’s mine, yeah?”
He reached for the chair to your left, the one you’d secretly been hoping he’d take, and yet, also dreading he would. It was instinct. Panic. Self-preservation.
You placed your hand firmly on the back of the chair before he could pull it out. “That one’s taken,” you blurted out a little too quickly.
Fred raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. “By who?”
And before your mouth could catch up with your thoughts - before you could invent some excuse or redirect him to the other side of the table - Ginny shoved past Fred, bumping him with her hip.
“By me, you great big git. Rule #3, remember? Now move!” she snapped cheerfully, shooting you a triumphant smile as she slid into the seat beside you.
Fred snorted, placing a dramatic hand over his heart like he’d been wounded. “Betrayed. By my own blood.”
He dragged himself to the far end of the table with a theatrical sigh, collapsing into a chair beside George. You watched him from the corner of your eye as he stole a bread roll before the basket had even hit the table, catching you looking just in time to shoot you a wink.
You felt heat rise to your cheeks.
Ginny leaned over, scooping potatoes onto your plate. “Honestly, you’d think they’d learn by now that we always sit next to each other. I think he did it on purpose just to mess with us.”
You forced a laugh, stabbing at a carrot with more force than necessary. “He’s insufferable,” you said weakly.
But your heart was thudding too loudly in your chest to believe it. You had wanted him to sit next to you. Just a little.
You could still feel the ghost of where his arm would’ve brushed against yours. How his knee might’ve bumped yours under the table. You could imagine it far too easily. Close enough to smell the spice and smoke of his cologne, to hear every stupid joke murmured just for you.
But then you looked at Ginny, happily chatting to her mum about the drive there, glowing with sun and freckles and trust. And the guilt returned with full force, crashing like a wave over your ribs.
You weren’t going to mess this up. Not this.
You promised yourself right then and there: You would stay away from Fred this summer. No matter how many times he winked at you. No matter how charming his smile was. No matter how much your hands itched to reach for his under the table.
He was Ginny’s brother. And you were Ginny’s best friend. And those two things could never, ever mix.
———————————————————————
Your first few days at the burrow passed without a problem. Ron kept to himself mostly, sending letters back and forth to Hermione and Harry in between practicing quidditch with the twins. When the twins weren’t out in the field zipping about on their broomsticks, they were locked in their room. No one quite knew what they were up to in there, except for the intermittent explosion that shook the house and earned a few lectures from Molly. Percy was off on some sort of internship at the Ministry of Magic. Which of course left you and Ginny to your own devices.
Your plan of avoiding Fred had been going splendidly. The only times you would see him were during meals, and with the buffer of the whole family present there were no issues that had arisen. He’d not tried again to steal Ginny’s chair by your side. You’d worked to memorise his and George’s schedule, knowing what times to avoid the bathroom or the kitchen for snack break. You’d even taken to using the bathroom at the latest possible time, once the house had gone uncharacteristically quiet and you knew everyone else was in bed.
Hence why you were there now. The bathroom mirror was fogged with steam from the shower someone had taken earlier - probably Ron, based on the trail of damp footprints leading down the hall to his bedroom. You stood at the sink in your pyjamas, brushing your teeth, the tap running low to mask the silence.
You leaned closer to the mirror and wiped a clean patch of glass to check your reflection. Your hair was a bit of a mess from a full day of hanging about the garden. Your skin a little tinged by the sun. The dim golden light from the hallway behind you spilled in from the half-cracked door, soft and flickering like candlelight.
The door creaked further open. You flinched, mid-brush. And then you nearly choked on your toothpaste.
Fred stood in the doorway, shirtless, rubbing a towel over his wild and wet hair, a pair of well-worn pyjama bottoms slung low on his hips. Water glistened on his shoulders. His freckles were more pronounced under the soft bathroom light, and his grin was…absolutely illegal.
You turned back to the sink immediately, hoping the toothpaste foam in your mouth would distract from the fact your pulse had just shot up like a firework.
“Evenin’,” he said casually, like this was completely normal.
You didn’t answer - mostly because you couldn’t speak with a mouth full of mint and panic.
Fred moved behind you, stepping inside without hesitation and reaching for a comb that sat on the bench. You could feel his presence, radiating a warmth that pulsed just inches away from your spine. The tension twisted tighter with each breath. You were practically vibrating.
“You always brush your teeth this dramatically?” he asked, his voice low and amused. “Looks intense.”
You spat your toothpaste into the sink and grabbed your cup to rinse. “Just thorough,” you muttered, praying your voice didn’t sound like it was shaking.
Fred leaned on the counter beside you, one arm braced as he turned his body toward you. “Right. Very serious business, dental hygiene. Sexy stuff.”
You gave a tight, nervous laugh and tried not to look at his collarbone, or his chest, or the single drip of water trailing down his sternum. You tried. But Merlin, you were failing.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” you asked, drying your hands quickly, your eyes fixed anywhere but on him.
“I was,” Fred said, tilting his head. “But then I remembered the bathroom gets much more interesting around midnight.”
You blinked. “Excuse me?”
He smiled, cocking a brow. “You’ve been sneaking in here late every night like you’re hiding something. Thought I’d investigate.”
“I’m brushing my teeth, Fred. Hardly a great mystery of the universe.”
He leaned a little closer, and your breath hitched before you could stop it. His voice dropped an octave, teasing but edged with something heavier. “Well, maybe I’m the one with secrets.”
You hated that your stomach flipped. That your legs felt suddenly unsteady. That this was exactly the kind of moment you’d dreamed about for years, and yet now it was the last thing you could afford.
You cleared your throat, stepping back. “You’re ridiculous, you know.”
“And yet here you are,” he said. “Cornered. In a bathroom. With me.”
He was still smiling. But his eyes - those hazel eyes - searched yours with something more than just mischief. There was a weight in them. A question. A hope.
“Oh for Merlin’s sake, Fred, put a bloody shirt on!” The moment shattered like glass.
Ginny appeared in the doorway, her eyes narrowing immediately as she took in the scene. Fred shirtless and grinning, you red-faced and stiff near the sink.
Fred didn’t move. He just glanced at Ginny over his shoulder, as if annoyed to be interrupted.
“What?” he asked, unbothered.
“You’re disgusting,” she snapped, elbowing past him. “You can’t just wander around half-naked like some trollop!”
Fred looked delighted by that. “Trollop? Really, Ginny? You wound me.”
She made a face. “Honestly, you’re like a feral cat.” Then, without hesitation, she wedged herself firmly between you and Fred, standing like a barrier. Completely oblivious to the electric tension that had just been vibrating in the room.
Fred smirked at you over her shoulder, lips twitching, like he knew exactly what he’d done.
Ginny turned to you, unaware. “Ready for bed?”
You nodded mutely. Behind her, Fred gave you a lazy wink and finally retreated, tossing his towel over his shoulder as he strolled out of the room like he hadn’t just flipped your entire emotional state upside down.
Ginny looked at you and scrunched her nose. “Honestly. He’s so weird sometimes. Sorry you had to see that.”
You managed a smile, small and tight. “It’s fine. I’ve seen worse.”
But as you followed her down the hall toward the room you were sharing, your heart was still racing. Your skin still buzzed from his nearness. Your mind - traitorous thing - kept replaying that moment when he’d leaned in, eyes soft, voice low.
And you knew then, with a certainty that made your stomach sink, that this summer was going to be really, really difficult.
———————————————————————-
It had been five days since The Bathroom Incident - a title you’d privately christened it with during your increasingly dramatic internal monologues.
And for five blissful, tormenting, nerve-fraying days, Fred had been…good.
No more shirtless intrusions. No surprise appearances when you were alone. No wandering conversations with too much eye contact and not enough space between your bodies.
Just casual, everyday Fred Weasley. Joking with his siblings, tinkering with George, throwing fruit across the kitchen, absolutely no more cornering you against a sink like he wanted to eat you alive.
You’d convinced yourself it was over. That he’d gotten bored of teasing you and moved on. That maybe you were in the clear.
Until this morning.
You’d just woken up, sunlight stretching warm fingers across your face through the open window, when you heard it.
“We’re going into town for the Sunday market!” George’s voice rang out through the hallway. “Come on, grab your shoes!”
You sat up, blinking sleep from your eyes as Ginny barged into the room already half-dressed, tying her hair up with a ribbon. “You’re coming too,” she declared, tossing your shoes toward the bed. “It’ll be us and the twins.”
Your stomach turned. Just the four of you. On a sunny day. Walking into town. All together. You, Ginny, George - and Fred.
Before you could argue, Ginny had already bolted back out of the room, mumbling something about losing her favourite jacket.
You took less than five minutes to pull on a cute outfit and brush your teeth before you waked into the hallway, trying not to look like you were internally screaming. At the bottom of the stairs, Fred was waiting.
He leaned lazily against the railing, arms crossed over his chest, dressed in a sweater rolled at the sleeves and worn jeans. Casual. Comfortable. Dangerous.
The second he saw you, a slow grin unfurled across his face like a cat who’d spotted a cornered mouse.
“Well, well,” he said, voice soft enough that it felt like it was just for you. “Didn’t think I’d be lucky enough to get you all day.”
You blinked. “What?”
He pushed off the railing and took a step closer. Close enough that you caught the familiar scent of spearmint and gunpowder. “I mean, I’ve barely seen you all summer. I was starting to worry I’d developed a contagious rash.”
You folded your arms. “Maybe you have. Have you checked?”
“Oh, thoroughly. I’m in top condition.” He winked, words dripping with innuendo.
You rolled your eyes, but your lips betrayed you with a small smile. He saw it - of course he saw it - and leaned in just a little more.
“You know,” he murmured, “I’d accuse you of hiding from me if I didn’t already know you were.”
Your heart thudded too loudly in your chest. Before you could deliver a scathing comeback - or worse, blush - Ginny’s footsteps thundered down the stairs.
Fred stepped away with impeccable timing, shoving his hands into his pockets and grinning innocently as Ginny reappeared with a cropped jacket and her hair now tied in a messy ponytail.
“All right,” she said, tossing her eyes toward Fred. “You better not make me carry everything again.”
“No promises,” he said, already leading the way out the door.
The walk into town was bright and breezy, the gravel path crunching beneath your shoes. Fields blurred gold and green beside you, and wildflowers nodded gently in the tall grass. Ginny was by your side for the most part, until she got into a long conversation with George about quidditch and the two walked ahead, occasionally darting into little bursts of sibling bickering. It left you and Fred side by side more than once, though you always kept just enough space to pretend it wasn’t wanted.
The Sunday market stretched along the village square in a mismatched quilt of tents and booths. The air was thick with the scent of fresh bread, honeycomb, spiced nuts, and something fried you didn’t dare question. Laughter floated above the hum of shoppers and merchants calling out their deals.
You kept close to Ginny, using her as a human shield against Fred’s increasingly amused glances. The two of you stopped at a table of handmade jewellery, and your fingers drifted toward a delicate pair of crystal earrings shaped like intricate flower clusters. They caught the sunlight just right. Clean, simple, quietly beautiful.
You picked one up, turned the tag over. Too much. Not outrageous, but more than you could justify. You set them down gently.
“Cute,” Ginny said, glancing over your shoulder. “But you’d probably lose them in, like, three days.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Ginny laughed and moved to the next booth, where a ridiculous plaid hat caught her eye. George followed, already pretending to model one for her.
And suddenly, it was just you and Fred again. You glanced up. He was already there, hands in his pockets, eyes locked on yours. He nodded toward the earrings. “Those were nice on you.”
You blinked. “I didn’t try them on.”
“I imagined them on you,” he said easily, his voice low and teasing. “I have an excellent imagination. In fact, I can picture anyone, anywhere in just about any position.”
You rolled your eyes. “You really never turn it off, do you?”
He stepped closer, the crowd bustling around you like a river splitting. “You’re one to talk. You’ve been flirting with me all morning.”
You snorted. “I have not.”
Fred tilted his head, mock-thoughtful. “Okay. Not flirting. Actively ignoring me. Which is basically the same thing, just in reverse. It has the same effect.”
You laughed despite yourself, cheeks warm. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet you’re still here talking to me.” He leaned in, voice dropping, “What does that say about you?”
You opened your mouth to retort, but then Ginny reappeared, holding up a hat so absurdly shaped it looked like a squashed owl. “Do I look insane or fabulous?”
“Both,” George said immediately.
“Perfect,” she grinned.
Fred stepped back again, and just like that, the moment dissolved.
The walk home was slower, the sun dipping lower in the sky. You carried a small paper bag of sweets Ginny had insisted on buying, and Fred whistled absently as he kicked pebbles down the lane. You didn’t speak again. Not really. But you felt his presence the entire way.
Back at the Burrow, the house had returned to its gentle, midday hum. You’d taken a shower first, and Ginny had waited until she heard the water stop before swapping places.
By the time you stepped out, dried off, and slipped back into your clothes, it was nearly time for afternoon tea.
You returned to Ginny’s room, searching for a brush to untangle your wet hair. And there, sitting neatly on Ginny’s bed, right where your pillow had been, was a small white box tied with a black ribbon.
Your heart stopped.
You looked around like someone might leap out from the closet yelling “Gotcha!”
But no one did.
You approached slowly, eyes wide, and lifted the box. Inside - tucked in soft tissue paper - were the earrings from the market. Delicate. Dazzling.
With them was a folded note in crooked handwriting: Couldn’t let them get away. Thought you might wear them next time you’re trying so desperately not to look at me. - F.
You clutched the box like it might combust in your hands. Footsteps creaked from the hallway. Ginny.
You moved fast - heart hammering - shoving the box into your trunk, the tissue and ribbon crumpled in your fist. You nearly tripped getting the top shut before the door opened.
Ginny strolled in, towel around her hair. “Whatever you do, don’t touch the blue shampoo bottle. I think one of the boys messed with it.”
As she unwound the towel, her usually ginger locks dropped around her shoulders in a curtain of green. You forced a smile, heart still galloping, hands still tingling.
“Oh Gin,” you said, covering your mouth, every nerve in your body on high alert. “Let’s get that fixed up. I’m sure your mum will have something to help.”
You took her by the shoulders and led her out of the room, mind still stuck on what you were leaving behind.
The earrings were hidden. The note, too. Your secret was safe. Though now, you were technically at risk of breaking another rule.
#2. Never lie to one another.
———————————————————————
The kitchen of the Burrow smelled like butter, thyme, and the kind of warmth only a Weasley home could conjure. The windows were fogged slightly from the heat of the cooking. You stood at the counter beside Ginny, a cutting board in front of you and a particularly potent batch of onions halfway sliced beneath your trembling hands. Your eyes stung fiercely.
“I swear, I think I’m going blind,” you sniffled, blinking rapidly as tears dripped down your cheeks.
Ginny laughed, pointing her wooden spoon at you. “Oh come on, don’t be dramatic. It’s just an onion!”
“I’m not being dramatic, my eyeballs are melting—” You let out a soft, strangled laugh, wiping at your face with your sleeve and slicing again.
The two of you had been helping Molly for the past hour, peeling vegetables, shelling peas, and listening to Celestina Warbeck crooning softly from the wireless. The afternoon sun cast long strips of light across the warped wooden table, and despite the heat and chaos of the kitchen, it was cozy. Familiar. Safe.
Or at least, it had been, until the back door suddenly burst open with a crash.
“—AND HE SCORES! WHAT A MOVE FROM THE LEGENDARY BEATER!”
“OH, SHUT IT, YOU OVERGROWN GNOME—”
Fred and George exploded into the kitchen like a pair of firecrackers, both sweaty and flushed, yelling in Quidditch commentator voices as they barrelled through the doorway. George had a quaffle tucked under one arm. Fred was lunging for it like a seeker gone mad.
Molly spun around from the stove. “Boys! Absolutely not! Not in my kitchen!”
But it was too late. Fred dodged Ginny, slipped on the corner rug, and stumbled directly into you. You barely had time to gasp before the impact jolted your arm. The knife in your hand slipped.
“OW! bloody hell!” You recoiled instinctively, dropping the knife and clutching your hand. Blood was already rising fast to the surface of your finger, running in a hot, red line down your palm and onto the floor.
“WHAT did I just say?!” Molly’s voice could’ve curdled milk.
“Fred!” Ginny shouted furiously. “You idiot!”
“Oh, shit, you’re crying!” Fred’s eyes widened as he saw your tear-streaked cheeks and the blood on your hand.
You glared at him, though your vision was blurry. “It’s the onions, you twat!”
But your voice trembled. From the pain. From the sheer overwhelming chaos of it all. And - fine - maybe from Fred being way too close again.
Fred looked properly horrified now. “Merlin, I didn’t mean to. I was just…George was…right, c’mere. I’ve got something that’ll help. C’mon.”
Before you could protest, he was already gently but insistently guiding you toward the stairs, his hand warm on your back. You wrapped a kitchen towel around your bleeding finger, trying to keep the pressure steady as you glanced back at Ginny.
“Go, go,” she called, exasperated. “Before you bleed into the mashed potatoes.”
George had dropped the quaffle and was already picking up the knife from the floor, apologizing to Molly in the most unconvincing tone possible.
You followed Fred up the stairs, your heart pounding harder with every creak of the steps. You told yourself it was just because of the injury. The adrenaline. The pain. Not because you were heading into Fred Weasley’s bedroom for the first time.
The door clicked open, and he stepped aside to let you in.
His room smelled faintly of parchment, broom polish, and something warm and boyish and entirely him. It was surprisingly neat for a Weasley. Trunks were stacked in a corner, shelves cluttered with joke prototypes, and Quidditch posters pinned crookedly across the walls. There was a pair of socks hanging off the end of his bedpost. A sweater crumpled on the floor. But it felt lived in, personal. Like stepping into a corner of his world you were never supposed to see.
You froze awkwardly in the doorway.
“You can sit,” Fred said, waving a hand at the bed. “I promise my mattress doesn’t bite.”
You managed a weak laugh and perched on the edge, careful to keep your hands to yourself.
He crouched in front of a trunk and rummaged around. “Right, here. We just finished a batch of this last week. Might sting, but it works miracles.” He pulled out a small tin with a garish orange and purple sticker slapped across it.
You squinted at the label. “WWW? What’s that stand for? ‘Weasley’s Weakest Work’?”
Fred grinned, tossing a towel over his shoulder. “Close. Thirty-three percent correct, actually. Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. George and I, we’re starting a joke shop. After Hogwarts.”
Your eyebrows lifted. “Wait, seriously?”
He nodded, pride sneaking into his voice. “We’ve been designing products for years. We’ve got a whole trunk full of prototypes. Salves, candies, decoy spell crap. You’d love it. You’re basically our ideal test subject - easily injured and highly opinionated.”
“Charming,” You snorted. “So is that what the hexed shampoo fiasco was all about? Ginny was furious. Her hair was green for days.”
“No, that one was just for fun,” Fred sat beside you now, close enough that you could feel the heat of his arm. He gently peeled the blood-soaked towel from your hand, and you hissed.
“Sorry,” he murmured, his voice suddenly soft. He dipped his fingers into the tin and dabbed the salve onto your cut.
It was cool and tingly and smelt like peppermint. Within seconds, the pain dulled, and you watched in shock as the raw skin knitted itself closed.
Your mouth fell open. “That’s…actually brilliant.”
“I know,” he said smugly, wrapping a thin bandage around your finger. “And, don’t worry. It won’t scar. Just reapply twice a day.”
“How are you not rolling in money already?”
He laughed and you smiled, until you realised you were still holding hands. Neither of you moved. And the silence that settled between you wasn’t casual anymore. It buzzed. Tense and breathless.
Fred’s eyes lifted to meet yours, his thumb unconsciously brushing over the inside of your wrist. “Why’ve you been avoiding me?”
You blinked. “I haven’t.”
He tilted his head. “You have. You’ve been dodging me like I’ve got dragon pox. Why?”
You tried to smile. To brush it off. “Maybe I just don’t like you, Fred.”
He leaned in, his voice low and serious now. “Or maybe it’s the opposite.”
Your breath hitched. He was so close you could see the golden flecks in his eyes. Count each of the freckles dusting the bridge of his nose
Before you could answer - before you even knew how to answer - the door burst open.
George stood there, eyebrows raised. “Alright, you two, break it up. Dinner’s ready. And Mum’s not in the mood to wait.”
You yanked your hand back, your face going hot.
Fred sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “Cheers, George. Great timing.”
George grinned knowingly and stepped aside. You stood quickly, muttering a thanks under your breath and rushing out the door, heart hammering, head spinning.
This summer was going to ruin you. And you finding it a lot harder to mind at all.
———————————————————————
The attic smelled like dust and old wood, warmed faintly by the day’s leftover sun and lit only by a string of enchanted fairy lights that twinkled like stars overhead. The ghoul in the corner moaned softly to itself, chewing on what remained of Fred and George’s bribe - a sticky handful of Drooble’s gum and a crumpled chocolate frog box. For now, it was satisfied. Mostly.
When you climbed through the attic hatch behind Ginny, the stale air hit your face like a wave. Ron, Fred, and George were already sprawled across the mismatched rugs and floor cushions in a circle, a deck of enchanted cards floating lazily in the center.
“There you are,” Fred said as you and Ginny slid the hatch shut behind you. His eyes flicked to yours briefly and he smirked like he had been waiting specifically for you.
You tried not to react, though your stomach was already betraying you with its little flip. He looked far too smug for someone sitting crisscross in moth-eaten socks and a Quidditch tee.
“About time,” George chimed.
“Don’t push it,” Ginny said, elbowing her brother before tossing a pillow to the ground and flopping down.
You settled in beside her, your knees brushing the woven edge of the rug, directly across from Fred. Unfortunately, he was watching you. Still. And you knew he hadn’t stopped.
The bottle of firewhisky came out shortly after. Fred uncorked it with a flourish, holding it up like it was some ancient treasure.
“Compliments of the cabinet behind Dad’s broom collection,” he announced.
Ginny laughed. “Mum’s going to have your head if she finds out.”
“She won’t,” George assured her, “unless someone blabs.”
“Ron,” said everyone at once, and Ron flushed beet red.
The bottle made its way around the circle, and eventually it landed in your hands. You hesitated only a moment before lifting it to your lips. The whisky burned hot, sharp, and smoky as it slid down your throat. You exhaled, eyes watering slightly.
“Easy,” Fred said from across the circle. “Don’t want to fall asleep before the game starts.”
You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, cheeks flushed, and passed the bottle back, straight to Fred. His hand brushed yours as he took the bottle from your grip. But instead of drinking right away, he rotated it slowly and deliberately in his hand, fingers lingering around the mouth of the bottle. Then he placed his mouth right over the spot your lips had touched and drank without breaking eye contact.
The burn in your throat came back tenfold, but for a completely different reason.
He licked a drop from his bottom lip and grinned. “Tastes better this way.”
Your breath caught. Ginny, completely oblivious, was already giggling at something George said. The cards were floating again, but your world had narrowed to that lazy, firewhisky-laced smirk and the way Fred’s eyes lingered just a beat too long.
Goosebumps erupted down your arms.
The moment passed too quickly. You tried to pretend it hadn’t affected you, that you weren’t wondering what it would feel like to close the distance between you, to feel that heat not through shared glass, but skin.
The shuffled deck split evenly amongst them and a chaotic, barely-rule-following game of Exploding Snap ensued. There were chips of lightning, minor burns, and raucous laughter as the ghoul muttered irritably in its corner. A slightly scorched card flew past Ginny’s head and she ducked with a cackle.
Eventually, the ghoul grew bored. With a loud metallic CLANG, it started knocking on the pipes behind it, clearly unhappy that its stash of goodies had run out.
“Right, time to clear out,” George said, already grabbing the cards and stuffing them into the pocket of his pajama bottoms.
“I’ll bring more sweets tomorrow,” Fred muttered toward the ghoul, who let out a pitiful moan in reply.
George and Ginny were the first down the hatch. You were about to follow when Ron knocked over an old crate, sending it crashing into a pile of dusty cauldrons.
“Shit,” Fred hissed. You all froze.
Footsteps echoed below. Heavy ones. Then the creak of a bedroom door.
“Mum,” George whispered, eyes wide. “And Dad.”
There was no time to think. There was only enough time for Ron to jump down before George scrambled to shut the attic hatch. Ginny looked back at you from below.
“We’ll come get you when it’s safe,” she whispered, and then, click. The hatch was sealed.
You and Fred were completely alone.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the soft flickers of the fairy lights and the distant, irritable tapping of the ghoul’s fingernails on wood.
Fred let out a breath. “Well, I guess we’re trapped.”
You tried to laugh, but it came out more like a nervous exhale. He held up the bottle of firewhisky. “Still got this. Want to play truth or dare while we wait?”
You tilted your head. “Really? That’s what we’re doing?”
“We’ve got time. And no escape.” He patted the floor beside him.
Despite your instincts yelling at you not to agree, you sat. Not too close, but close enough to catch the cinnamon-heat smell of him, firewhisky and warmth.
“Fine. But I go first,” you said. “Truth or dare?”
He leaned in, elbow resting on one knee, still holding the bottle between two fingers. “Dare,” he replied, too fast.
You rolled your eyes. “Predictable.”
Fred raised a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” you said, drawing your knees up, “you’re always the first to take risks. Always the showman. But when it comes to being genuine? You flinch.”
A beat of silence. Fred’s smile dropped an inch. Not gone, just softened. “You think I can’t be genuine?”
You shrugged, heart hammering. “Prove me wrong, then. Pick truth.”
“Fine,” he said. “Ask me a truth.”
You studied him. The freckles, the messy hair, the too-confident posture covering something far more careful underneath. “Why haven’t you told anyone about the joke shop?”
That made him pause. The flicker in his eyes changed, turning sharper. More focused.
Finally, Fred sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Because Mum thinks it’s a waste of time. Childish. She wants us to join the Ministry. Be ‘respectable’ like dad. But I don’t want that. George doesn’t either. This—” He held up the firewhisky like it was part of the dream. “—this is the only thing I’ve ever felt is really mine.”
Your chest swelled at the honesty. “I think it’s brilliant,” you said quietly.
He looked at you, something unreadable softening his features. Then he smirked again. “My turn. Truth or dare?”
You panicked. “Truth.”
“Do you like anyone?”
Your mouth went dry. “Yes.”
His eyes glittered. “Who?”
“That wasn’t your question,” you shot back quickly, hiding your fluster behind a smirk of your own.
Fred chuckled. “Alright. Touché.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Truth or dare.”
He yawned dramatically. “Truth. And see, I didn’t even flinch.”
“Are the rumors true about you and Angelina Johnson?” you asked, voice just slightly sharper than intended.
Fred let out a bark of laughter. “What? No. That wasn’t me.”
You raised a skeptical brow.
“It was George,” he said, dead serious. “They got caught snogging in the common room, and everyone assumed it was me since I took her to the Yule Ball.”
You blinked in surprise. “Wait, really?”
“Yep. She’s more into sensative gits than charming ones, apparently.” The air between them grew charged. Thicker. He sat up straighter. “Truth or dare?”
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Then answered, “Truth.”
He leaned closer. “Who do you fancy?”
Your stomach twisted, pulse thudding loud in your ears. “I change my mind,” you blurted. “Dare.”
He grinned like he’d won. “Thought you might. In that case…I dare you to kiss me.”
The world stopped.
“I’ll take a drink instead.” You offered, reaching for the bottle.
Fred turned the firewhisky upside down and a single drop ran from the lip of the bottle.“We’re out.” He clicked his tongue in mock sympathy. “What a shame.”
You were frozen in place, mind trying to come up with a fourth option that didn’t seem to exist.
Then, slowly - so slowly - he leaned forward. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it easy for you.”
You couldn’t breathe. His hand came up, brushing a strand of hair gently behind your ear. His fingers lingered, tracing the edge of your earring - the ones he had bought you from the market. You watched him realise it, watched his lips twitch upward.
“These suit you,” he murmured.
You swallowed hard. He was so close now. Close enough that you could see the flecks of amber in his eyes, the faint red in his lashes, the faint smell of firewhisky and citrus and boyish heat.
Your cheeks burned. The world felt like it was tilting slightly sideways.
Fred said softly. “All you have to do is give in.”
You wanted to. Oh Merlin, you wanted to. Your lips parted. Your eyes flicked to his. But then the attic hatch creaked open.
“Oi,” George called, voice echoing. “Coast is clear.”
You jumped apart like lightning had struck. Your skin still buzzed where his hand had touched you.
Fred stood slowly, offering you a hand. You took it before you could think better of it.
Nothing had happened. But it had almost happened. And you didn’t think you’d ever stop thinking about that almost.
Neither of you said a word on the way down the ladder. But your ears were still ringing, and yu couldn’t shake the ghost of his voice murmuring, ‘All you have to do is give in.’
———————————————————————
You never usually woke up this early, but sleep had been impossible after last night.
The attic. The firewhisky. His voice, low and teasing, asking if you fancied someone. The way he dared you to kiss him, and the way your body had wanted to obey more than it ever had anyone. You’d never felt anything like that before. That tightrope between longing and fear, between want and wariness. Between what you craved and what you shouldn’t want.
You’d almost done it. Almost leaned in. Almost let yourself fall.
The early morning air was soft against your skin as you walked through the garden behind the Burrow. The grass was cool and damp with dew, the sky still tinted with pale grey and lavender. There was a hush to the world here, like it was holding its breath, just like you were.
You moved slowly between the rows of wildflowers and gnarled trees, trying to clear your head. But all you could think about was him - the fire in his eyes, the way his gaze flicked to your mouth, the smell of firewhisky.
You shook your head, willing the memory away, when a low voice broke through the quiet. “What are you thinking about?”
You nearly leapt out of your skin. “Bloody hell—” you gasped, spinning around. But before you could scream, a hand clamped over your mouth, warm and strong. His hand.
“Shhh! It’s just me,” Fred said, his voice low and urgent as he pulled you further into the field.
You struggled instinctively, swatting at his arm until you were both well out of view of the house. He released you the second you were far enough away, and you whipped around, shoving his chest hard.
“What on earth is wrong with you?” you hissed, your heart thundering in your chest.
He raised his hands in mock surrender, but there was tension under the smirk. “I needed to talk to you. Alone. And you’re a lot harder to pin down these days.”
You crossed your arms. “So you thought sneaking up on me and dragging me into a field was the best option?”
“It worked, didn’t it?”
You glared, but the corner of your mouth twitches before you catch yourself. “What do you want, Fred?”
He exhaled, the teasing edge dropping as he takes a step closer. “Last night. Why didn’t you kiss me?”
Your throat went dry. “We’re not playing truth or dare anymore. I don’t have to answer that.”
“I’m not playing either,” he said. His voice was low now, and earnest. And he was closer. You could smell him again - cinnamon and something warm and boyish, still clinging to his skin.
He stepped forward again and gently took your arm, his thumb brushing the inside of your wrist. It sent a flicker of heat up your spine.
“I wanted you to kiss me,” he confessed. “So why didn’t you?”
You swallowed thickly, knowing this was a dangerous game. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”
“Maybe not. But I think I deserve one.”
You stayed silent, your heart in your throat, body humming like live wire. His fingers tightened ever so slightly on your wrist.
“You want to know what I think?” he asked, and you looked up at him, caught in that impossible gaze. “I think you’re just as interested in me as I am in you. Tell me if I’m wrong.”
You opened your mouth, but your voice barely came out. “You’re wrong.”
It was shaky. Unconvincing. Pathetic.
Fred lifted a brow, unimpressed. He leaned in until you could feel his breath brush your cheek. “No, I’m not.”
You didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. You couldn’t. Your whole body was screaming to close the distance, to surrender.
“Why won’t you just say it?” he whispered. “I’m standing right here, telling you that I…” His voice faltered for the first time, softens. Vulnerable in a way that made your chest ache.“I care about you. I want you. I have for a while now.”
It hit you like a punch to the ribs. The tenderness, the honesty in his voice. Your chest tightened. “I do too,” you admitted, your voice betraying you. “But I shouldn’t.”
Fred frowned, still not understanding what was holding you back. “Why not?”
“Because of Ginny,” you said, the words ripping from your mouth. “Because she’s my best friend. Because I made a promise. Rule number one. Her brothers are off-limits.”
Fred blinked, then let out a sharp breath and laughed under it, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Are you kidding? That’s what’s stopping you?”
“It matters.”
“Not to me,” he said, stepping closer, impossibly close now. “And Ginny doesn’t have to know.”
Your breath stilled. “Fred…”
“All you have to do,” he murmured, brushing your hair back from your face, his fingers grazing the earring he gave you, “is give in.”
You shivered as his thumb traced the shell of your ear. His touch was so soft, so gentle, it was almost unbearable. You should have pulled away. You knew that.
But you didn’t. Instead, you leaned in. Just the smallest tilt of your chin. Just enough. But that’s all he needed.
Fred cupped your face in both hands and kissed you. It was everything you imagined and more. It was hungry and hesitant all at once. Warm and desperate, like you’d both been waiting too long. His lips melded into yours like he’d somehow already memorised the shape, and you melted into him without thinking.
The world fell away. There was only the sun-drenched field, the soft birdsong in the trees, and his hands anchoring you like he never wanted to let go.
And for a single, breathless moment, you didn’t want him to.
———————————————————————
The grass was still wet with dew as you and Fred made your way back to the Burrow, your fingers entwined with his, warm and certain despite the slight chill in the air. The morning was quiet. Hushed and golden in a way that made it feel like the world had agreed to keep your secret, if only for a little while.
You couldn’t stop smiling. Neither could he.
“I can’t believe that just happened,” you murmured, voice still breathless from the high of it - of him.
Fred glanced sideways at you, that lopsided grin tugging at his lips, his eyes still lazy with affection. “I can,” he said simply. “Been a long time coming, don’t you think?”
Your heart fluttered helplessly. “Have you really felt like this for that long?”
Fred nodded, squeezing your hand. “Since you called me insufferable for making that potion explode in the common room. You had ink on your cheek and told me I was going to fail out of Hogwarts.”
You laughed, a quiet sound that felt like summer. “That was third year.”
“Exactly,” he said. “I didn’t stand a chance.”
You bit your lip, glancing down at the way your hands fit together so naturally, like they’d always belonged there. “I wish it didn’t feel so complicated.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” he said gently.
You didn’t respond right away. You just walked with him, each step soft and heavy all at once, and the closer you got to the crooked silhouette of the Burrow, the heavier your chest became.
As the back door came into view, you felt Fred’s fingers twitch against yours. You both knew what had to happen. You dropped his hand, carefully, reluctantly. Like letting go of a lifeline.
You reached the back door first and stepped inside.
Ginny was at the kitchen table, flipping through the Prophet, but her eyes flicked up the moment she heard the creak of the floorboards. They landed on you. Then on Fred. Then back to you.
She looked suspicious. “Where were you two?” she asked, casual, but not really.
You didn’t miss the way her eyes lingered too long on the space between your hands. Your stomach twisted.
“I, uh…I couldn’t sleep,” you said quickly. “Went for a walk.” You shrugged as if it meant nothing. “Fred must’ve had the same idea.”
There was a beat of silence. The paper in Ginny’s hands crackled as she slowly turned the page. Her gaze didn’t waver.
“Uh huh,” she said, noncommittal. Then she looked back down at the paper.
You forced a laugh and stepped past her into the kitchen, your heart thudding wildly as Fred moved behind you without a word. You felt his eyes on you, heavy with unspoken questions. Ones you didn’t want to answer.
Because now it wasn’t just Rule #1 you’d broken. You’d lied to her face.
Rule #2. Never lie to one another.
You told yourself it was just a little white lie. A protective one. A harmless one. But it didn’t feel harmless. It felt like the beginning of something you couldn’t take back.
———————————————————————
You’d spent the whole day glued to Ginny’s side. It wasn’t like she noticed. She just thought you were in a good mood, maybe a little extra chatty, a little too agreeable. But every time she laughed, or looped her arm through yours, or offered you a bite of the plum she was eating on the porch swing, your stomach twisted tighter and tighter.
Because she didn’t know. She didn’t know what you’d done that morning. That you’d walked into the garden one person and come out another. That Fred had kissed you like he meant it. And worse, that you had kissed him back.
Worse still: you had liked it. You had wanted it.
And now, you couldn’t look Ginny in the eye without feeling like your whole skin was buzzing with guilt.
So you stuck close. You did the dishes with her. Helped her weed the vegetable patch. Laughed too hard when she told you that joke about Seamus Finnigan and the exploding butterbeer. You didn’t so much as glance in Fred’s direction during dinner, even though you could feel him looking.
It was late now. Everyone had gone to bed. You were brushing your teeth with heavy limbs and hollow thoughts, the kind that came from trying too hard to act normal. Your eyes were tired. Your mouth still ached faintly from the press of his.
You reached for the towel when suddenly a strong hand clamped over your mouth. You gasped, but before you could scream, you were pulled backwards, into the tiny shower room, the door snapping shut behind you with a soft click as it locked.
You shoved at the hand, heart racing, until it dropped away. You spun around, your back to the wall, and saw him.
Fred. He was slightly out of breath from the effort, hair mussed, eyes bright.
You glared at him, even as your pulse stuttered. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”
He grinned like he’d been waiting all day to see you. “I missed you today,” he said simply.
And then he kissed you. There wasn’t any teasing this time. No playful smirk. Just heat. Sharp and overwhelming. His hands framed your face, and yours found his shirt and fisted there, like maybe you could anchor yourself to him and forget what you’d done.
You kissed him back like you hadn’t been thinking about anything else since sunrise. And for a moment, there was only him.
But then, your hand slid up and brushed against the chain around his neck and your chest cinched tight.
You broke the kiss, breathless. “Fred—”
He looked at you with dazed affection, lips parted. “What?”
“I can’t,” you whispered, voice shaking. “I feel so guilty about Ginny.”
His brows drew together slightly, but he didn’t let go of your waist. “I really don’t think she’d be upset.”
You shook your head. “You don’t know that.”
“I know she loves you,” he said. “And I know if she thought we made each other happy, she’d be glad for it. I think we should tell her.”
You felt the words land inside you like tiny, cruel promises. “No! We can’t tell her,” you said, voice firmer now. “We can’t tell anyone.”
Fred’s hands loosened. “No one?”
You nodded. “Promise me, Fred. Please. You can’t say anything.”
He looked reluctant. “Even George?”
You hesitated, because of course George already knew. He probably knew before either of you did. “Even him,” you said anyway. “If he knows anything already, then you need to make him promise not to say a word.”
Fred exhaled, then nodded. “Alright. I promise.”
You stared at him, heart thudding against your ribs. He reached up, brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, and smiled gently.
You kissed him one more time. Slow and lingering and filled with the quiet ache of knowing this wasn’t going to get any easier.
And so it began. The start of something you couldn’t name yet. A kiss in the garden. A locked door. A promise made in whispers. The beginning of a secret.
———————————————————————
You’d gotten so used to hiding it, you almost started believing you could keep it hidden forever.
It became a rhythm. A dance you and Fred had perfected over the past few weeks. A series of glances and touches and moments stolen between the cracks of your everyday life. You lived for the quiet thrill of it. The way your heart leapt when he leaned in just a little too close in the hallway, or the way your pulse skittered when he brushed your pinky with his under the table at dinner.
Sometimes, he’d manage to sit beside you, his thigh pressed against yours beneath the tablecloth, warm and steady like a secret only you were allowed to keep. His hand would rest casually on his knee until it inched over to yours, fingers tapping, tracing lines across your skin no one else could see.
And when he couldn’t sit beside you, he’d claim the seat directly across, his foot nudging yours under the table until it became a full-on game of footsie that had you biting your lip and looking anywhere but at him. Every time your eyes accidentally met, he’d grin like he was proud of himself. Like he was daring you to keep playing.
You were hopelessly smitten. And for the first time in a long time, really happy.
Fred made you laugh when things felt heavy. He kissed you like he meant it, even in the briefest snatched moments. He told you you were brilliant, and brave, and beautiful in all the ways no one ever had before. And you believed him.
It was dangerous, yes. But it was yours. Until the day it wasn’t.
It was late afternoon, the sky hanging heavy with sun and heat, and most of the Weasleys were outside flying or napping or doing chores. Ginny had been reading on the porch when you told her you needed to grab something you’d forgotten in the backyard.
That was a lie. Fred had told you to meet him in the broom shed.
You slipped away quietly, past the rose bushes and around the back of the house where the old wooden shed waited beneath the trees. The door creaked as you opened it and there he was, leaning against the wall, arms folded, eyes lighting up the moment he saw you.
You didn’t even make it two steps before he pulled you in.
His kiss was warm, familiar, and tasted like the honey biscuits Molly had made for tea. You melted into it, hands sliding into his hair, your body fitting against his like it belonged there.
“I’ve been waiting to do this all day,” he murmured against your mouth.
You smiled into the kiss. “What if someone finds us?”
“They won’t.” He pressed a kiss to your jaw. “George is on Ginny duty. We’ve got time.”
You were about to respond - about to tell him you’d missed him too - when the shed door flew open.
You jolted back like you’d been burned. Ginny stood in the doorway, eyes blazing, lips parted in silent disbelief. Behind her, George winced and muttered, “Shite.”
“I knew it,” Ginny said, her voice low and trembling. “I bloody knew it.”
You stared at her, frozen. Every part of you was suddenly cold.
“Ginny—” Fred started, stepping forward.
She didn’t even look at him. Her eyes were locked on yours, betrayal carved into every inch of her expression. “How long?” she demanded. “How long has this been going on behind my back?”
You opened your mouth but nothing came out.
George stepped forward. “Sorry mate, I tried to stop her—”
“You knew?!” she rounded on George like a storm, her fists balled at her sides. “You knew and didn’t say a word?!”
“I only found out recently,” he said, holding up his hands. “And it’s not my business—”
“Not your business?!” she shouted. “She’s my best friend, Fred is my brother, and you’re my other brother! How is this not our business?!”
“Ginny, please,” you finally managed to say, your voice soft, cracking. “I wanted to tell you. I swear I did.”
“But you didn’t!” she shouted. “You lied to my face. Every single day. Do you think I’m stupid? Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
“No, Gin, I never—” You stepped toward her but she stepped back.
Her face was red with fury, her eyes glassy with tears she refused to let fall. “I trusted you. I trusted you more than anyone.”
Fred reached for her, voice low. “She didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Don’t.” Her voice was sharp enough to cut. “Don’t defend her. Don’t pretend this was nothing.” She looked at you again, and it nearly broke you. “You broke our rules.”
And then she turned on her heel and stormed out of the shed. George gave Fred a grim look, then jogged after her.
And just like that…it was over.
The warmth, the secrecy, the giddy, fluttering joy that had filled you so completely. It all shattered in the space of ten seconds.
Fred turned to you, hands raking through his hair. “Bloody hell.”
You were shaking. “I didn’t know what to say. I froze.”
He pulled you into his arms, held you like it might fix things. “She just needs time.”
You nodded against his chest, but your heart wasn’t so sure. Because you hadn’t just broken the rules. You’d broken Ginny’s heart.
———————————————————————
You tried for days. Tried to talk to her, to explain, to say something, but every time you got close, Ginny slipped away like smoke.
You followed her into the garden the next morning, calling her name as she picked harshly at the overgrown mint leaves along the back fence. She didn’t turn around. When you got close enough to speak, she stood up and walked inside without a word.
Later, you found her in the kitchen, arms folded tight, back resting against the counter as Molly spoke to her in a low voice. You hovered in the doorway, unsure, heart thudding against your ribs. Ginny met your eyes for a second - just one second - and then looked away like it hurt.
You tried again on the stairs, whispering her name as she passed. She didn’t even glance at you.
You hated this. You hated how silent everything felt. How your chest ached with things unsaid.
By the time the sun dipped beneath the hills on the third day and the Burrow settled into its evening hush, you were exhausted from trying. And Ginny still hadn’t said a single word.
You crept up to your shared bedroom slowly, quietly, like maybe she’d be soft again if you just approached the right way. You reached for the doorknob, turned it gently.
Locked.
You knocked. “Ginny?”
Silence.
You knocked again, a little louder this time. “Ginny, please. Can we just…can we talk? Please?”
Nothing. Not even a shuffle from the other side. You pressed your forehead to the wood, eyes stinging.
After a long minute, you sighed and padded back down the stairs. The Burrow was quiet now. Most of the lights were off, save for the soft, golden glow from the living room. You curled up on the couch, wrapping yourself in one of the worn knitted blankets, tucking your knees to your chest. This was where you’d been spending your nights lately, not wanting to bother Molly or Arthur about other sleeping arrangements.
The silence felt louder than Ginny’s anger. It echoed. You must have sat there for almost half an hour before you heard soft steps on the stairs.
Fred. His hair was a mess, like he’d been lying in bed unable to sleep too, and his eyes found yours with immediate concern.
“You okay?” he asked gently, already knowing the answer.
“She locked me out again,” you murmured. “She won’t even look at me.”
Fred’s brow furrowed as he sat beside you, draping his arm over your shoulders and tugging you closer. “I’m sorry.”
You let your head fall onto his shoulder. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve never seen her this mad. She’s not even yelling anymore. She just…won’t see me.”
Fred let out a breath, warm against your temple. “She’ll come around. Ginny’s stubborn, but she’s not heartless. She just needs space.”
You nodded, letting the quiet settle between you again. It wasn’t the happy silence from the shed, or the secretive warmth you were used to with him. It was heavier. But his presence still helped. Still steadied you.
He rubbed circles into your arm, resting his chin lightly against your hair. “We’ll figure this out.”
You closed your eyes. “I hope so.”
And then the bottom step squeaked. You both turned.
Ginny stood in at the bottom of the staircase, holding an empty glass. Her eyes landed on you curled beside Fred. You saw the moment it hit her. The twist of disgust, the flick of her lip curling as she scoffed softly.
She didn’t say anything. Just rolled her eyes, and turned on her heel.
You threw the blanket off and jumped up. “Ginny, wait!”
She was already halfway up the stairs, empty glass still in her hand.
“Please, can we talk?” you called, following her up.
She didn’t even pause.
“Ginny—”
She reached the bedroom door, yanked it open, stepped inside. You made it just in time to catch the door slamming in your face. The sound echoed through the Burrow like a curse.
You stood there for a moment, fingers resting on the closed door, throat tight, heart cracking a little more. You didn’t even knock this time. You just turned and walked back downstairs.
Fred was waiting. His expression softened as he saw your face. “She slammed it again?”
You nodded. You didn’t trust your voice not to break.
He opened his arms. You walked straight into them. And for the rest of the night, the two of you stayed curled up on the couch. Not saying much. Just holding on.
———————————————————————
The next morning was unbearable. You sat between Fred and George at the breakfast table, the tension thick enough to slice with a wand. Ginny was across from you, lips pressed into a thin line, her toast untouched. She didn’t look at you. Not once. She didn’t even speak. Not to Fred. Not to George. Not even to Molly when she asked if she wanted more pumpkin juice.
Fred’s knee bumped against yours under the table. You didn’t move. But you didn’t lean into him either. You were ashamed. It hurt, having Ginny’s silence weigh this heavy on your chest.
After breakfast, Ginny stood without a word and disappeared up the stairs, her braid swinging sharply behind her. The door to her room slammed moments later.
You didn’t follow this time. You knew better now.
Fred glanced at you, eyes soft. “Come on,” he said. “Walk with me.”
You let him lead you outside into the warm morning light, the sun stretching long and lazy over the Burrow’s messy backyard. The garden was overgrown in the loveliest way. Wildflowers sprawling into vegetable patches, vines curling along the fenceposts. Fred brushed his fingers against yours as you walked, and when he caught your eye, his smile was crooked and bright like he was trying to make things better without saying it out loud.
You stopped in front of Arthur’s old work shed.
Fred pushed the door open and gestured inside with a dramatic bow. “Milady.”
You rolled your eyes. “What exactly am I meant to be admiring in here? The rusted rake or the giant spider in the corner?”
He grinned. “Neither. Just trust me.”
You stepped inside cautiously, brushing past hanging tools and stacks of flower pots, turning just in time to see him still grinning at the threshold.
“Fred?”
“Sorry,” he said in a singsong voice, and with a swift flick and a slam, the door shut. The lock turned with a click.
“FRED!” You pounded your hand on the wood. “This is not funny!”
But footsteps were already retreating. You waited - furious - for him to open it again. But the minutes passed. The shed was warm and full of the smell of soil and sun-dried wood, and you were trying to decide whether you were more angry or confused when the door creaked again.
You stood quickly, hope flickering. “Finally.”
But it wasn’t Fred. It was Ginny. She stepped in with a suspicious scowl, looking over her shoulder. “What—?”
Before she could finish the thought, slam. Click.
You both lunged for the door.
“FRED!” Ginny shrieked. “GEORGE!”
“LET US OUT!” you yelled right behind her, slamming your fists against the wood.
But their voices were muffled and maddening on the other side.
Fred called, “Not until you talk!”
George chimed in, “Properly! No hexes, no storming off!”
“Absolutely mental,” Ginny muttered, crossing her arms as she turned her back to you and marched to the far end of the shed. She plopped down on an overturned bucket, staring hard at the dirt wall.
You stayed near the door, arms folded just as tightly, silence stretching between you like a curse.
It must’ve been hours.
The heat in the shed grew heavier, sun filtering through the tiny window above. Your legs began to ache from standing, but sitting felt too vulnerable.
And then, finally, Ginny broke it. “If you wanted to snog my brother that badly, you could’ve at least warned me,” she said coolly, not looking at you.
You bristled. “It’s not just snogging.”
“Oh, please.” She barked a laugh. “You’ve been sneaking around like a pair of teenagers and I found you in a bloody broom cupboard. What else is it supposed to be?”
“It’s real, Ginny.” You stepped closer. “We actually care about each other. It’s not some fling, this means something.”
She turned sharply, fire in her eyes. “And that’s supposed to make it better?”
You blinked. “What?”
“It’s worse,” she hissed. “It’s worse because you didn’t just hook up with him. You fell for him. And then you hid it from me. Lied to me. Every single time I asked where you were or what you were doing—”
“Okay, did lie,” you interrupted, chest tightening. “I did…and I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you. I just didn’t know how.”
“You knew exactly what you were doing,” Ginny snapped. “You just didn’t want to deal with the fallout.”
“And I was right, wasn’t I?” your voice rose. “Look at how you’re reacting! You won’t even listen—”
“Because you went behind my back!” she shouted. “I told you everything. Every crush, every stupid thought I had about Harry or Michael, or whoever, and you were pining over my brother the whole time!”
You stared at her, stunned by how deep her voice cut.
“I just…I thought…” Her voice cracked. “I thought we were friends.”
That one hurt the most. “We are,” you said, stepping forward. “Ginny, I love you. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to lose that. I didn’t want to risk you thinking this was some betrayal. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“But you did.”
“I know,” you said quietly. “I know I did. I just…I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t want to fall for him. It just happened. And for years I kept it a secret because I refused to act on it so what was the point? And then it just got worse. And I hate that I made you feel like this. I never meant to. You mean too much to me.”
She looked at you for a long time. Then she sighed, sitting down heavily on a crate. “So…how long has it been happening?”
You hung your head low. “Since last week.”
She raised a brow. “Seriously? That’s…actually not as bad as I was expecting.”
You nodded. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, but he was so persistent, and…I gave in. And it’s been…honestly, it’s been amazing.”
Ginny pursed her lips. “And he’s serious?”
“Completely,” you said. “He treats me like I’m the most interesting, maddening person he’s ever met. He actually listens. And he makes me feel—” you paused, blushing a little, “—happy. Really happy.”
She let that hang in the air. Then she exhaled. “Okay.”
You blinked. “Okay?”
“I mean,” she shrugged, “I still think you’re an idiot. But I can live with it.”
You smiled, hesitantly at first, and then fully when Ginny rolled her eyes and opened her arms. You nearly knocked her over hugging her.
“I’m still mad,” she warned into your shoulder.
“I deserve that,” you admitted. “Completely.”
You stayed like that for a long moment. Then Fred’s voice piped up from outside, smug and singsong: “So! All good now?”
Ginny shouted, “If you ever lock me in a shed again, I swear I’ll turn your ears into flobberworms.”
George snorted. “We’ll take that as a yes.”
The door clicked open. You and Ginny stepped out, blinking in the afternoon light, shoulder to shoulder again.
Fred looked at you like he’d been holding his breath the whole time. You gave him a small smile and nodded.
All was not perfect, but it was healing. And that was enough for now.
———————————————————————
Dinner at the Burrow felt normal again.
The clinking of cutlery, the smell of roasted vegetables and gravy, the soft hum of conversation. It was like everything had fallen back into place. You sat beside Ginny again, your shoulders occasionally brushing. She’d even nudged your arm when you reached for the salt before her, and when you made a joke about Ron’s plate being stacked like a tower, she actually laughed.
It was subtle. Soft. But genuine.
From your other side, Fred was watching you with that familiar twinkle in his eye. His foot tapped yours beneath the table like it couldn’t stand not touching you, and when you glanced at him, he gave you a slow, knowing smile.
Molly glanced between you and Ginny, her eyebrows lifting ever so slightly as she set down a fresh loaf of bread. “Well,” she said, voice light, “I must say it’s nice to see you two getting along again.”
Arthur looked up from his stew and nodded. “Things were a bit frosty there for a while.”
Ginny gave a dramatic eye roll and stabbed a potato. “Yeah, well…I got over it,” she muttered, shooting you a sideways smirk.
Ron frowned and pointed his fork between the two of you. “Wait. What were you even fighting about in the first place? You’ve been whispering to each other all evening. Did I miss something?”
Fred, sitting beside you, let out a soft breath - part exasperation, part amusement. Then, without warning, he reached beneath the table and gently laced his fingers through yours. His palm was warm, calloused and familiar. It made your chest tighten, just a little.
And then, just as Ron took another bite of chicken, Fred lifted your joined hands into the air. Like some kind of victory signal.
Everyone froze. Ron choked. Ginny groaned. Molly gasped, then squealed so loudly that even the ghoul in the attic probably heard her.
“Oh! Oh, I knew it! I just knew it!” she cried, practically launching herself out of her seat. Her chair scraped back as she rushed around the table, arms outstretched like she might hug the both of you into oblivion. “You’re together?! You’re really…! Oh I’m just so happy!”
“Mum,” Fred muttered, ducking his head as you laughed and tried to brace yourself for impact. “Breathe, yeah?”
She didn’t listen. Her arms were around your shoulders in a second, pulling you into a tight, motherly hug that somehow managed to be both suffocating and comforting.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she said to you, eyes misty as she cupped your cheek. “I always hoped it would be you.”
Your throat tightened. You hadn’t realized how badly you’d wanted her approval until that very moment.
Across the table, Ron raised his eyebrows at Fred and gave him a slow, impressed nod. “Well, you actually pulled it off,” he said, clearly trying not to smirk. “Didn’t think you had it in you, mate.”
“I aim to surprise,” Fred said, squeezing your hand gently under the table again.
You leaned into his side, heart fluttering. Ginny rolled her eyes again, but this time…she smiled.
“To make myself clear, rules two and three are still applicable,” She pointed between the two of you with a warning glare that held to real heat behind it.
“And rule number one?” You clarified.
“To hell with rule number one. It was stupid anyway,” she shrugged, and you beamed.
———————————————————————
Tag list: @vivianette @ellouisa17 @wisp1q @divineani @cattleray @billieeilishkisser @lupinsweater
Summary: You only asked Fred Weasley for one thing — a quick lesson in kissing before your date with Cedric Diggory.
But the moment his lips touch yours, the “lesson” slips completely out of your control… and his.
Warnings: Mild sexual content / sensual kissing / Suggestive themes / Some flirtatious teasing / Light language
The Gryffindor common room hummed with late-evening chatter, firelight flickering against old stone walls. Someone had smuggled in a bag of Honeydukes sweets, someone else debated which Quidditch captain was the most dateable, and the conversation had drifted—inevitably—toward relationships.
“…and apparently Cho Chang kissed him behind the owlery,” Lee whispered dramatically.
Fred gasped. “The owlery? Risky. A bit smelly, but it adds character.”
Laughter broke around the circle. You sat cross-legged on the sofa, pretending to focus on the Exploding Snap cards in your hands, but the conversation kept tugging you in.
“And Cedric Diggory?” Angelina smirked. “Did you hear he likes girls who are… confident?”
Fred shot you a look—one eyebrow raised, trouble already sparkling in his eyes. “Confident, huh? Y/N, you might want to take notes. That Hufflepuff hero isn’t just going to fall into your arms.”
Your face went hot. “I never said I liked Cedric!”
“No, but you blushed when his name came up, love,” Fred teased, bumping your knee with his.
More laughter. You tried to smile it off, but the teasing lodged somewhere deeper, sharper. Cedric Diggory. Confident girls. Kissing behind owlery walls. Merlin—how were you supposed to even go on a date with someone like him when you’d never kissed anyone?
The thought followed you upstairs later, gnawing at you until it turned into something else. A terrible, brilliant idea.
Which was how, twenty minutes later, you found yourself standing in the doorway of the Weasley twins’ dormitory, heart thundering.
Fred looked up from his bed, wand in hand, clearly working on some new disaster.
“Y/N? You planning on joining us for a late-night prank or did you lose a bet?”
You swallowed. “I need your help.”
His grin was instant and dangerous. “Always happy to assist.”
“No, I mean—help with something… specific.” You stepped inside, closing the door behind you. Merlin, why did it feel suddenly hot in here?
Fred sat up, curiosity sharpening. “Alright. What’s the mission?”
The words came out in a tumble. “I need you to teach me how to kiss.”
Silence.
Then Fred’s eyebrows shot so high they nearly left his forehead.
“You—what?” He laughed under his breath. “Very funny. Good one.”
You didn’t smile. “I’m serious, Fred.”
His grin faded—slowly, carefully—replaced by something unreadable.
“Why me?”
“Because you… know things.” You cringed at your own wording. “And if I’m actually going to have a chance with Cedric, I need to not be a complete disaster.”
Something flickered across his face. Not amusement. Not mockery. Something deeper.
He leaned back on his hands, eyes dragging over you, assessing.
“So you want lessons.”
You nodded. “Just… the basics.”
Fred chuckled softly. “Nothing about this is going to stay ‘basic,’ sweetheart.” But after a beat, he patted the space beside him. “Come here.”
You sat beside him—close enough to feel the warmth of his body, close enough that your knee brushed his.
Fred noticed. Fred always noticed.
He angled toward you, one arm draping casually over his knee, posture relaxed but eyes… not. His gaze skimmed over your face with a focus you’d never seen from him before.
“Alright,” he murmured, voice low and almost annoyingly gentle, “first lesson.”
His hand came up slowly—giving you time to pull away if you wanted to. You didn’t.
Fingers brushed your cheek. Soft. Warm. Almost careful.
Then he tilted your chin up with his thumb, and your breath caught.
“Just follow me,” he whispered.
Fred leaned in and kissed you—soft at first, like he was checking if you’d spook. But you leaned in.
The kiss deepened when you did, his lips warm and sure, guiding yours in slow, patient movements that made your stomach twist in hot spirals. His thumb stroked along your jaw, steadying you, coaxing you.
When he finally pulled back, just enough to look at you, your cheeks were burning.
Fred smirked.
“Don’t blush, love.”
Your breath stuttered. “I— I’m not.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You absolutely are.”
The teasing should’ve embarrassed you. Instead, it made something snap in your chest—something bold, reckless.
Fred saw it. You watched his expression shift, eyes darkening with a heat that stole the air from the room.
“Not bad for a first kiss,” he murmured, voice low and sincere in a way you weren’t prepared for. His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth. “Actually… you kiss better than not bad.”
Your heart hammered.
“Really?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Fred breathed. “Good enough that I need… another sample. For research.”
This time, he didn’t wait.
His hand slid into your hair as he kissed you again—deeper, slower, with a warmth that spread through your chest and curled into your fingertips. You kissed him back, instinct guiding you more than thought, and Fred made a soft sound against your mouth, a pleased one, like you’d surprised him.
Your fingers curled into his shirt. He smiled into the kiss—mischievous, delighted—and tugged you a little closer by the waist.
“That’s it,” he whispered against your lips. “Just like that.”
He kissed you again.
And again.
Each one steadier.
More sure.
More Fred.
His other hand slid around the small of your back, steadying you when you swayed forward into him, pulling you deeper into the kiss without even thinking.
You weren’t thinking about Cedric anymore.
You weren’t thinking about anything except the way Fred Weasley kissed you like he was teaching you and losing himself at the same time.
And when you pulled back for breath, cheeks warm, lips tingling, Fred looked at you like he’d just discovered something dangerous.
“Merlin,” he murmured, eyes flicking to your lips, “you’re going to be the death of me.”
For a moment, neither of you moved.
Then you did.
You leaned in—hesitant for half a heartbeat, then with surprising certainty—your fingers sliding into his hair before you could second-guess yourself. Fred inhaled sharply, a sound that hit you low and deep, and you kissed him again, firmer, bolder.
“Oi—” he murmured into your mouth, amused and breathless all at once. He pulled back just enough to look at you properly. A slow, wicked smile unfurled across his lips.
“Is that how you want to play?”
You didn’t even have time to form a thought.
Fred’s hands caught your waist, warm and sure, and in one smooth motion he tipped you backward, guiding you onto the mattress with such ease it made your breath catch.
Your back hit the blankets softly, and before you could blink, Fred was above you—braced on his elbows, knees sinking into the bed on either side of your hips, holding himself just close enough that you felt his breath against your cheek.
The world shrank to the inches between you.
Fred’s eyes swept over your face, slow, deliberate, hungry in a way that made your pulse stumble.
“You look better like this,” he whispered.
You didn’t trust your voice enough to answer.
He didn’t wait.
Fred dipped down again, kissing you—deeper this time, stealing the breath right from your lungs. His hand slid from your waist to your ribcage, stopping just beneath your arm, a warm anchor that held you exactly where he wanted you.
Then his lips left yours.
Not far.
Not for long.
They brushed the corner of your mouth.
Your cheekbone.
The line of your jaw.
“You drive me mad, you know that?” he murmured against your skin, voice lower than before.
He kissed the spot beneath your ear—slow, lingering—and your breath hitched.
It was tiny. Barely a sound.
But he heard it.
Fred smiled against your neck.
“Oh, I felt that,” he whispered, amused and pleased and something else entirely.
He pressed another kiss, lower now, just at the curve of your throat.
Your hand slid instinctively into his hair—fingers tightening for balance, for him—and the quiet sound that escaped you wasn’t a gasp, wasn’t a moan, just—
“…Fred…”
His name.
Soft.
Unplanned.
Pulled straight from somewhere you didn’t know existed.
Fred froze for a heartbeat.
Only a heartbeat.
Then he lifted his head just enough to look at you, eyes darker than you’d ever seen them.
“Say that again,” he breathed.
You shook your head, mortified—and that made him laugh under his breath, a low, warm sound that rolled right through you.
“Sweetheart,” he whispered, brushing his nose against yours, “you’re going to ruin me.”
And before you could protest, before you could hide your face, before you could think—
Fred’s lips were back on yours.
Not careful.
Not soft.
But sure.
Certain.
Like he’d finally stopped pretending this was just a lesson.
His hand cradled your jaw, tilting your face up to him as he kissed you again and again, each one warmer, deeper, pulling you under and holding you there.
Like he never wanted to stop.
His hips nudged yours—accidental, unplanned, but unmistakably intimate.
The breath rushed out of both of you at the same time.
Fred tore his mouth from yours with a sharp inhale, bracing himself harder on his forearms, because if he didn’t he might—
“Bloody—” he whispered, blinking hard. “Right. Okay. That’s—Merlin.”
He swallowed, like he was trying to drag himself back to reality—
But reality didn’t wait.
“FRE-EED? YOU IN HERE?” George’s voice echoed up the hallway.
You froze instantly.
Fred didn’t move. His chest rose and fell steady. His eyes flicked once toward the door, then back to you—dark and smoldering. A faint, amused smile tugged at his lips. Calm. Collected. Watching you panic like it was the most entertaining thing in the world.
He leaned in, brushing his lips once more against yours in a quick, soft kiss—a last, deliberate contact.
You pushed him off yourself, cheeks burning, heart still racing. “Move,” you whispered.
You stood, smoothing your skirt, brushing back your hair, trying to regain composure. Fred’s eyes followed every movement.
Then another voice joined—Lee’s. “George, wait—no, listen! It wasn’t my fault the mannequin exploded—”
The footsteps stopped.
You exhaled shakily, turning to Fred. “Well… wish me luck, then,” you murmured, trying to sound casual, still flushed.
Fred blinked slowly, that faint, mischievous smirk lingering. “For what?”
“My date,” you said softly, brushing your hair back. “…With Cedric.”
The moment shifted instantly. Fred’s eyes darkened, posture tightening slightly. “After that?”
You tried to scoff, trying to sound nonchalant, though your pulse raced. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
You turned to leave.
His hand caught your wrist firm and certain. “I’m not being ridiculous. You’re not going anywhere with Cedric Diggory.”
You glanced back. Fred’s gaze held you, unwavering, impossibly steady, chest rising slowly, smoldering eyes fixed on you.
Before you could respond further, the door swung open.
George came in. “Fred, Mum wants—oh, hi, Y/N. Didn’t know you were up here.”
“I was just leaving,” you said quickly, wiggling your wrist free from his grasp and steering yourself toward the door.
Fred was still watching you.
You stepped into the hallway, heart racing, breath uneven—
but just before the door closed, you heard him behind you.
Soft. Low. Certain.
“Y/N… I’m serious.”
The door clicked shut.
And suddenly you weren’t sure whether you were walking toward your date with Cedric—
or straight into something much, much more dangerous.
In celebration of beating Borderlands 3, I’m posting this lil thing. My friend gave me the prompt; ‘your f/o giving you a gift you dislike’ so I went on a weirdly fluffy route with Fl4k LOL
Enjoy this lazy drabble
Warning ⚠️ ; mentions of dirty things, kiddies look away
this is in the "141 and john price's wife" universe. still gn pronouns. i also don't think price texts that much- old man syndrome.
the 141 absolutely have a group chat dedicated to pictures and information (porn) about their little wife.
it starts, as many silly things do, with johnny and a picture of you asleep on the couch. cuddled into the armrest covered in the tortilla blanket he'd gotten you as a gag gift, and it was just too good not to share. (although he only sent one of the thirty he actually took, he's gotta keep as much of you to himself as he can.)
then it was kyle with you in the yard, laying in the grass after cutting down branches in the sweltering heat (something john would never let you do if he'd know about it, but he appreciates the flush of your cheeks and the angle of the photo makes it seem as if you were under him doing another strenuous activity.)
and it continues like that for months, cute little pictures of you gardening with price, walking with simon, watching tv between kyle and johnny- just sharing the daily life of their pretty bird.
but the real nature of the group chat doesn’t start until simon sends a picture of you bent over, putting something in the oven, in the tiny, red daisy duke shorts that are only just long enough to be considered inappropriate for the public.
sr: fuckin' lucky that shit only takes 10 minutes to cook or we'd be in the kitchen all day.
soap: fuuuuuuuuckin' hell
kyle: don't rub it in simon, we'll be home in two days
sr: don't worry, i'll warm 'em up for you
price: Behave yourselves.
and it all just unravels from there.
john's the next culprit. he has loads and loads of less than decent pictures of you, perks of being the first husband, but he's not reaching into the stash for this one. he has a point to make: if anyone's getting off to pictures of his wife, he's gonna be the one sending them.
it's barely two hours after the other three left that something is sent into the chat. face down, ass up, cunt dripping with cum as price uses his thumb to keep your pussy open to the camera, the rest of his hand palm down on your ass, the ring on his finger glistening in the flash.
sr: fuckin' filthy captain
soap: BRING ME BACK, PUT ME IN CAPTAIN
kyle: tell 'em i said thank you
it's not surprising that the minute he comes back, johnny's on you. methodically placing the camera, making sure it captures all of you and his face buried between your thighs. it wasn't the first video sent into the chat but it's definitely one of the best ones.
your head thrown back, hands in his hair, gripping what you can so you can grind your pussy on his tongue. his phone is just close enough to hear your small pants and groans as he sucks on your swollen clit.
soap: i could spend the rest of my life right there
sr: you let 'em fuck yer face like that?
soap: lt i'd let 'em gag me
soap: then step on my dick
soap: then leave me on the floor to rot
*kyle, price, and sr disliked three messages*
soap: like you fuckers wouldn't
and kyle is not a man to be left out, but he is also not as keen on sharing his private time with you as johnny is. so there aren't videos coming from him, instead he has 4k close ups of your tits after he spent almost an hour sucking hickeys into every part of your chest he could reach.
and kyle is like an artist, he makes sure your hair is splayed out perfectly, and that you're just fucked out enough to give him a bright smile. he also makes sure that the locket they gave you, the one that's has their names engraved on the inside, sits perfectly above the swell of your boobs. and goddamn is he proud of his pictures. (it's not hard for you to look pretty in pictures because you're already pretty but kyle thinks he's the best at actually capturing it).
soap: another two things i would put my face between until i suffocate
*sr, price, and kyle disliked a message*
soap: go fuck urselves
and simon is just mean, fingers peaking under your panties, finding your clit just to sit there, finger pressed on your bud, only moving for a few seconds before falling still again; his other hand hold your hips down so you can't do anything but wait for him to move again. and he does it the entire length of the manchester game until your panties are completely soaked through.
soap: stone cold, lt. stone cold.
but before he can do anything, he has to take his picture so the other fools can remember what a whore you are for him. and because it's between games he'll let you sit on his dick and grind into him during commercial breaks. maybe he'll even film in and send it to the guys, let them see you drip all over his lap whole stretching to fit him in your cunt.
but whether his team loses or wins, he'll flip you over and fuck you into the couch cushions, so at least you get that!
then they're all away on a mission, and you know about their little chat (it's hard not to when suddenly they have a camera out every time you're in their vicinity.) so you take it upon yourself to give them their fix. and why not play around with them well you're ar it?
it starts when you go shopping merely three days after they left. they tear up your bras and underwear so obviously you would need to buy more eventually. but usually when you go shopping one of them is with you to share their opinions, but since they're away, you just have to send pictures instead!
a whole catalog, in facts. you've got angles, dressing room lighting, and a whole lot of time on your hands.
*you sent 22 photos to 'the bird house'*
you: i can't choose :(((
you: help me out?
kyle: give me 6 hours to fly home and i'll help you with anything
price: Looks great. But I can't tell from the pictures, you'll have to try them all on again when I get home.
soap: licking the screen isn't working, captain i think i need to go home.
*sr saved 22 photos to Camera Roll*
kyle: smooth riley, real smooth.
and of course it doesn't end there. you have a chance to torture them a little bit with zero consequences and you're going to take it.
but it takes a while for you to send videos, usually you send your outfits, or the tiny bathing suit top you wear while tanning, even one of you in the kitchen in nothing but your tiny apron. (it's the only one that john does not appreciate, popping a boner between briefings as a captain is not hie proudest moment.)
but as the months go longer and longer, you get more and more desperate. your toys are reserved for times like this, a small bullet vibrator and a thick 8-inch dildo. it's nowhere near as nice as fucking your men but it'll have to do for the time being.
and you know them being away is not their fault and they'd be home in an instant if they could choose to be; but if you have to deal with your pent-upness, so do they.
so you set up your phone, leaning it on the lamp that sits on your bedside table, so it captures your entire body, covered only by sheer light-blue lingerie and your locket, as you sink down the length of your dildo, vibrator pressed to your clit. you send four different videos, one for each of them, in the order they came into your life (you think it's cute, they're one picture away from firebombing the whole country they're in and flying home).
you: just something to hold you over until you get back!
kyle: so good for us babe.
soap: yer evil bonnie.
soap: my arm can't keep up with this
sr: birdie thinks it's real funny now
you: i do
sr: not gonna be so funny when we get home, yeah? might have to give you a refresher about what happens teasing birds.
price: 6:30am tomorrow, get everything you need in order because you aren't moving for the foreseeable future.
so you know that stupid tradition of the groom sticking his head under the bride's dress at the reception to pull the garter off? yeah that but every single one of the 141 would kiss your pussy while doing it.
johnny's full on making out with it over your underwear, leaving it sticking to you from a mixture of his spit and your arousal.
simon's got it pulled to the side so he can plant one directly on it and you can hear the deep rumble in his chest when you gasp in surprise.
kyle would place a kiss right over where your clit is under your underwear before running his tongue up the length of it.
and john would stuff his fingers in you while he gives your clit a harsh suck before letting go with an audible pop, comes out from under there with the garter in his teeth and licking his fingers.
Author's Note: I’ve been trying to upload for two days, Tumblr wouldn’t let me… hopefully this finally works again😭
Summary: You’re caught and chained by a notorious pirate crew. They want your power to find something ancient and buried beneath the sea. But you’re more than bait. And they’ll learn that, the longer they keep you breathing.
Masterlist
MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+
The sea screamed for you as they pulled you from her arms.
Steel netting laced with aetherroot coiled around your body like a serpent in heat, biting through your skin with each struggling thrash. Blood bloomed in the water, darkening it to crimson wine. You shrieked until your throat tore, water erupting like glass as you broke the surface—dragged up by grizzled hands and cruel ropes, your magic hissing against metal.
They threw you aboard like you were driftwood.
The deck was slick under your spine, wood sun-warmed and stinking of oil and rust. Boots closed in—four shadows, towering and dangerous. You glared up, chest heaving, hair clinging to your face in wet tangles, rage boiling in your veins hotter than sunlight on salt.
Captain John Price stood over you, silhouetted by the burning sky behind him. Smoke coiled from an unlit cigar tucked into his teeth. His jaw ticked. His eyes—sea-glass cold and hard—dragged over your form like a verdict being passed.
“Well,” he said, crouching beside you, voice rough as broken coral. “Ain’t you something.”
You hissed, lips curling back. The magic in you surged, snapping the puddle beneath your body into a whip of water that cracked across the deck—just before it fizzled uselessly against the iron cuffs at your wrists.
Chains.
You were already bound.
Price’s lips curved into a knowing smirk.
“You’ll guide us,” he murmured. “Or I’ll teach these bastards how to skin a siren.”
Behind him, Johnny MacTavish laughed, foot propped against the railing, dagger spinning carelessly between gloved fingers. “I vote we start with the tail. Bet it twitches real pretty.”
Your eyes burned. “Try it, and I’ll drown you in your own bile.”
Johnny only grinned wider. “Now that’s the spirit.”
The hold was dark and rank, brine seeping from the planks, the distant creak of the hull like the bones of a dying leviathan.
You hadn’t spoken in three days.
Kyle Garrick was the first to try kindness. His tone was gentler than the others’, eyes warm despite the cutlass on his belt. He approached with a flask and a smirk that might’ve passed for friendly—if not for the lingering glint of pity behind it.
“We could make this easier,” he said. “You help us, we treat you better.”
You stared at the chains at your wrists. Then at him.
“I hope you get torn apart by reef sharks.”
Kyle blinked. “Right. So. The hard way.”
The hard way came in the shape of Simon Riley.
He said nothing as he stepped inside, the door groaning behind him. His mask—bone-white and featureless—caught the lantern light like a ghost. He set a bucket of seawater beside you and leaned against the far wall.
You watched him in the silence.
“What are you here to threaten me with?” you spat eventually. “Knives? Fire? Torture?”
He tilted his head. “I don’t threaten,” he said calmly. “I wait.”
“For what?”
“For the moment you realize you’re not as in control as you think.”
He left before you could curse him.
And it made you sick, the way that truth nestled inside you like a splinter under skin.
You were starting to learn their routines. That terrified you more than the chains.
On the sixth night, it was Johnny who visited. The lantern he carried painted him in firelight, shadows dancing across his freckled skin. His grin was slow and sharp as he crouched beside your barrel, the gleam of his knife flashing.
“This?” he said, tapping it to your chin. “This isn’t for slicing. It’s for carving.”
You bared your teeth. “Go ahead. Maybe I’ll bite off your fucking wrist.”
His laughter echoed down the hall, bright and wicked.
“I like you,” he said. “Mean little thing. Full of fire.”
He rose, took a step toward the door. Paused.
“But fire’s only good,” he added, glancing back, “if you know when to let it burn.”
You stared long after he left. Jaw clenched. Blood pounding.
You were beginning to fear you knew exactly when you’d burn.
When Price returned, the room shifted.
The air thickened, like the sea before a storm. He dropped something beside you: a map. Ancient parchment, threaded with silver ink, edges curling from age. The sigils on it glowed faintly in your presence.
It reeked of dead gods.
“The tomb of the Sea King,” Price said, kneeling. “You know where it is.”
You looked up, lip curled. “I’m not helping you desecrate his grave.”
He didn't blink. “I don’t need your help. I need your obedience.”
He leaned in. The lantern light caught the gold in his beard, his eyes like jagged glass.
“You’ll guide us,” he said softly. “Or I’ll have Soap cut out your tongue and Simon peel off your scales. One by one.”
Something in you cracked.
Not in fear.
In rage.
“I hope you drown choking on your own greed.”
For a second—just a second—Price’s jaw tensed. Then he smiled.
They brought you above deck for the first time under a sky bruised purple.
Your tail was weak, aching. Salt dried on your skin like ash. You stumbled when the ship lurched, caught yourself on the rail.
Eyes followed you—men whispering, staring, spitting old curses. One made the sign against evil. Another dropped his rum.
Simon stayed at your side, silent as a sentinel.
Johnny didn’t joke.
But Kyle passed by and whispered, “Don’t die today.”
You didn’t answer. But your eyes found him again—lingered too long.
Later, curled in a half-filled water barrel to keep your strength from fading, you found Price at your side again. Watching the sea.
“You’re not weak,” he said.
You stared up at him.
“You’re just stubborn.”
You snorted. “You’re not a captain. You’re a coward who hides behind teeth.”
He huffed a laugh. It didn’t reach his eyes.
“We’ll see,” he said, “who ends up begging first.”
You led them to the trench.
Chains gone—just for the dive. You dove first, magic blooming like wings behind you, lighting the dark. They followed, armed and wary, through the cold spiral of the deep.
The tomb of the Sea King rose from the ocean floor like a cathedral of bone and coral. Pearls the size of skulls lined the arches. Statues wept seaweed. And in the center—a throne of obsidian, untouched for centuries.
They stared.
Not at the treasure.
At you.
Simon hovered behind you, eyes unreadable. Kyle’s breath fogged his mask. Johnny’s fingers brushed the hilt of his blade.
You turned.
“What now?” Kyle asked quietly.
“Do you kill us?” Simon murmured.
You could’ve. Should’ve.
Instead, you said, “Leave. You’ve done enough.”
Johnny stepped forward. “And you?”
“I stay.”
A long pause. Only the water moved.
“You’ll die here,” Price said. His voice, for once, held no command.
“Maybe I want to.”
Silence again. Then—
“We should’ve been enemies,” Price murmured. “But I don’t want to hate you anymore.”
You froze.
He stepped closer. Didn’t touch you. Just watched.
“You don’t forgive people like you,” you whispered.
“No,” Price said. “You fall for them. And hope it doesn’t kill you.”
You surfaced with them.
You told yourself it was strategy. Survival.
But when Kyle pressed a dry towel into your hands and whispered, “You’re not alone,” something tugged at your chest.
When Johnny flopped beside your barrel with an apple and said, “Want half, fishcake?”—you didn’t spit in his face.
When Simon watched you bleed and stitched your side without a word, you didn’t flinch when his fingers brushed your skin.
And when Price came to you, hours later, moonlight slick on the deck, and said:
“I don’t want a prisoner anymore. I want you with us. By choice.”
You said nothing.
You just reached up—pressed your palm to his chest—and didn’t pull away.
Maybe it wasn’t love yet.
But it was salt and softness. It was trust.
And it was enough.
Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜
I'm just here for the vibes. @rasputins-spaghetti - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
